Work Text:
The sickeningly sweet smell of e-cigarettes hits Damen as soon as he opens the door. The lights are meek, just enough to illuminate the reflecting surfaces of the tables below them, but so faint that people’s faces blur into anonymity. Nobody looks directly at the door as he steps in but he can feel their eyes assessing him before turning away.
Before, Damen used to come to a places like this often; places buzzling at the edges of respectable society, full of thieves, smugglers and pirates – and sometimes worse. He has mostly avoided them for the last two years because he has no desire to get himself killed – no matter what Nikandros says – but here, on one of the moons of Isthima that is so insignificant it only has a number and not a name, he figures it’s unlikely he’ll run into anyone who’d recognise him.
He orders a glass of a-bit-better-than-the-cheapest wine to celebrate having made a decent sum of money from fixing the local smuggler gang’s ship and settles into one of the corner tables. He glances at his watch; his meeting time with Nikandros is still three earth hours away.
A figure appears at the end of his table, silently like a ghost. Damen’s hand goes to his gun, but then the figure – a young man – slides onto the bench opposite of him, and Damen relaxes. It’s obvious that he is a prostitute. His face is ornately painted with golden swirls and dots and his blue eyes are heavily framed. On a single ear dangles an earring that looks like a genuine sapphire, echoing the colour of his eyes. He has a lovely hair too, long and golden blond. Damen would love to run his fingers through it – and why not; he has time for a quick rendezvous.
The young man smiles coyly from under his lashes, though there is something in his eyes, hard confidence maybe, that entices Damen almost more than anything else.
“Are you interested?” he asks, with a purring foreign accent that goes straight into Damen’s groin.
Damen takes a gulp of his wine – it might be better than the cheapest one but it’s still goddamn awful – and says: “Have you got a room ready?”
~*~
As soon as the door closes behind them Damen pushes the prostitute against the door of the dark room and kisses him, deep and sloppy. Instantly, the man goes rigid against him and Damen stops, frowning. Then there is the bite of metal at the base of his throat, a click of the light switch and the room floods with light. There are three gun barrels aimed at his head and the prostitute – not a prostitute, Damen concedes – is holding a switchblade against his pulse point.
Damen makes some quick calculations. Taking a hostage is his best way out of the situation and he tenses readying himself to turn the knife against his would be captor.
“Before you do anything hasty –“ the not-a-prostitute says without any hint of the earlier accent – “we have a proposition for you, Damianos of Akielos. One that involves clearing your name and bringing my brother back from dead.”
Damen’s first thought is Shit, I’m dead and then Wait, what?!
Laurent of Vere, who has sworn to kill him for killing his brother, smiles at him with cold-hard determination, and removes the blade from his throat. “What do you say?” The not that you have any choice is left hanging, unsaid.
“I wasn’t aware that Laurent of Vere was delusional enough to think the dead can be brought back to life.” He probably shouldn’t have said that.
“How dare you!” snares the youngest and prettiest of the men pointing a gun at him, and takes a step closer. A rookie – he is now in the range for Damen to grab his gun and disarm him easily.
“Stand down, Aimeric,” Laurent snaps.
“But –“
Laurent’s eyes narrow and Aimeric slinks back, visibly deflated.
“As it happens –“ Laurent says – “the death is more metaphorical than literal in this case. Auguste is alive.”
For a moment the words refuse to make sense. Everything that has happened to Damen during the last two years is because Auguste is dead, his ship blown apart before Damen’s own eyes. Kastor accusing him of destroying their whole clan with his reckless actions, refusing the hear Damen’s denials – The ship’s logs show that you were there and fired, Damen. Stop lying. Nikandros telling him that Kastor was going to hand him over to the Regent of Vere and their desperate flight. The world shifts. He can prove his innocence.
And yet – “I saw his ship exploding.”
“By that time my uncle had already spirited Auguste away. I suspected he was responsible from the start, but I thought you were working with him to pave a way for my uncle’s rule in return for his support.”
Damen makes an affronted noise; while Vere is famous for its backstabbing ways he would never take part in such an underhanded plot.
Laurent waves his protests away. “That is until I learned that my uncle’s plan was much more devious than that. He has hidden Auguste away so he can use him against me in case I turn out to be a too difficult puppet to control. Doubtlessly he plans to dispose both of us once he can devise a suitable demise for me.” He chuckles humourlessly, puts a hand into his hair and strokes through a few strands. “Maybe he plans to pin that on you too, or hopes that I get myself killed all on my own on my quest for revenge. I’m afraid I’m planning to disappoint him though.”
“And for that you want my help,” Damen says slowly. “Because knowing this I would never betray you to your uncle.”
Laurent regards him coolly, and then very deliberately waves the two remaining men still pointing their guns at him to stand down. He steps past Damen, across the floor and sits to the edge of the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room.
“I need more men. I also happen to need your very particular skillset. My ship is ready to go, but I assume you will insist on explaining the situation to your men.”
“I’m not leaving without Nikandros and Pallas.”
“For someone renowned as a genius technopath you seem remarkably dumb.” Damen curls his hands into fists and focuses on how extremely bad idea it would be to punch Laurent in the face. “We need to keep my uncle thinking I still believe that you killed Auguste. I think galloping around the galaxy with a bunch of your friends is going to stretch that a bit thin. They will be more useful on the outside anyway.”
“And how are you planning to explain working with me?”
Laurent’s face is transformed by a devious smile and Damen is once again hit by how attractive he is. “Why, you have been kidnapped to be my slave. After all, what could be better revenge?”
~*~
“Damen, this is madness!” Nikandros pleas. “You have no proof that he is telling the truth!”
Damen shakes his head. “He could have killed me in that room and he didn’t. He needs me alive.”
“For now,” Nikandros adds darkly.
“For now,” Damen concedes. But he thinks back on the determined set of Laurent’s shoulders and the look in his eyes and he has no doubt that whatever else Laurent plans his first priority is saving his brother. And with Auguste freed Damen’s honour will be restored. “Nikandros, you saved my life by convincing me to flee before Kastor could hand me over. But I can’t keep hiding for the rest of my life. This might be my only chance to clear my name.”
“And this has nothing to do with Laurent’s pretty blue eyes and blond hair?”
Damen frowns at him, and Nikandros averts his eyes. Pallas, who has been letting Damen and Nikandros to do the arguing mutters “Wouldn’t blame you because hot damn.”
Damen almost chuckles, but part of him is also annoyed. There is no denying that he is attracted to Laurent, but this is business. To imply otherwise is insult to both him and Laurent.
“These are my orders as your captain.”
Nikandros freezes. Pallas lifts an eyebrow. Damen doesn’t remember the last time he has pulled rank, but they are running out of time.
“As you wish. Sir,” Nikandros says, voice chipped. Pallas throws in a lazy salute, but continues to look mostly amused.
Damen walks out to find Laurent, only to find him leaning on the wall opposite of the door. He cocks his head and Damen nods in answer. Laurent’s smile is beautiful and slightly terrifying.
“The game is on, then.”
~*~
“Unfortunately,” Laurent says, “the Regent sent me here on a mission, which I have to complete before we can free Auguste.”
He looks completely different, standing on the command bridge of his ship. His hair is shorter, though still long enough to be pulled back on a ponytail, and his black smartsuit is a model Damen has never seen and is itching to get his hands on. He is not distracted enough to not get a bad feeling about Laurent’s words though. He knows very well what trade Vere’s pirate clan specialises in and the idea is abhorrent.
“A mission?” he asks when Laurent doesn’t elaborate.
Laurent nods, but he is looking into the horizon instead of Damen. There is no reflection in the window to let Damen see his face.
“It’s no concern of yours. All you need to do is to stay in the ship and to make sure it’s not bugged.”
Laurent had made Damen sweep the command bridge the first thing when they had stepped onto the ship, no-one had said single word before that. Damen thought Laurent had appeared almost surprised when he had come up with nothing.
“Who’s the mark? I’ll have no part –“
Laurent’s head snaps around. “I don’t want you to have a part. Who I assassinate is none of your business.”
Damen’s lips curl in disgust. “You Veretians treat lives like they’re goods for you to rob.”
“Perhaps,” Laurent says breezily. “And yet while we simple snap up one corrupt politician here and there, the weapons you have trafficked have destroyed civilisations.” Suddenly, there is a harsh, accusing edge to his voice.
Damen bristles. “What happened on Marlas would have happened regardless. We gave the Delphans a chance to defend themselves.”
“A fool’s chance that made you a fortune – but enough. If you don’t find a single bug on this ship I’m going to start to wonder whether there’s anything to your reputation after all. I’ll send my uncle a transmission informing him that I’ve captured Auguste’s killer and that I plan to torture and humiliate you until you wish you were dead.”
He gives Damen a final glance, then taps his com, and turns his back on Damen. “Jord, how long until we’re there?”
Once again Damen imagines how good it would feel to punch Laurent in the face and break through his holier-than-thou attitude. Instead he turns around and walks out of the bridge.
The ship is not big; it’s built for stealth and speed and not for the carrying of large quarries. Laurent has his own small cabin, while Damen has been assigned to share with Aimeric and Jord, another of the men who had ambushed Damen on Moon I2. Orlant, the third man shares with Lazar, Laurent’s mechanic, who to Damen’s slight surprise had seemed neither jealous of his ship nor overly curious about Damen’s skills.
He lets the fingers of his left hand scan across the surface of the walls. The power circuits implanted into his arm whirl to life, scanning the hull as he touches it, transmitting the image to Damen’s brain via the neurons connected to them. Everything in the nearby structures checks out; there is nothing suspicious standing out from the structures of the ship and everything seems to be feeding it as expected. Damen can sense no active external transmissions either.
Maybe Laurent is simply paranoid. From what he had told Damen the Regent had no reason to suspect his loyalties, and Laurent had said he always kept his ship under guard.
He scans through the washroom, the small kitchenette, the cabins, until he finds himself standing outside Laurent’s door. Damen doesn’t think Laurent is in but he presses the buzzer outside anyway. After a moment the intercom tells him that Laurent is not in but offers to make a call. Damen tells it not to. Laurent had told him to search the ship so he simply places his hand against the doors. He nudges the circuits into the positions; the system is simple with no added security, and manoeuvring it takes barely a thought. He considers whether he should tell Laurent to upgrade his security, but then simply makes a few quick modifications to the software himself. It’s nothing impressive, but should keep every child with a bit of technical know-how from opening Laurent’s door on a whim.
The doors open, and Damen steps in. The room is maybe half the size of the ones the crew shares. There is a bed, neatly done, and under it there is some built in storage. At least Laurent is not one to surround himself in extravagance on the expense of his crew.
The walls and the air vent, the obvious place for hiding a bug, are clean. Damen focuses on the bed – nothing, he thinks, except – something catches his attention. It’s not actively transmitting, but there’s enough something going on that Damen’s senses catch it. It’s not directly connected to the metallic bed frame, but insulated by something poorly accessible to Damen’s electric senses. He pulls open one of the drawers and tries to find the source of the sensation.
Damen feels the switch on the doors behind him just before they open. Laurent’s eyes narrow “What –“ Damen misses the rest. As soon as Laurent speaks, it’s like an eye has snapped open to stare at them. Suddenly, Damen has no problem following the signal that now shines like a beacon.
He turns his palm towards Laurent to silence him, and dives through the drawer filled with Laurent’s clothes until he finds it. It’s the button of a casual looking shirt – not the one Laurent wore as a part of his prostitute disguise, Damen notes gratefully – and rips it off. Laurent makes a noise of affront, but Damen focuses on shutting down the audio receivers. It seems to be utilising some kind of quantum technology, Damen notes with interest, but with Laurent staring down on him he doesn’t think it’s the best moment to examine it in detail.
He turns to look at Laurent and holds the button up for his inspection, though to naked eye it looks no different from normal button. “I found a stowaway,” he says, maybe a little bit smugly.
Laurent stares at the button in Damen’s hand for a moment. Then suddenly, he snatches it, drops it to the ground and violently crushes it under the sole of his boot. The crunch seems to echo in the room. “That bastard,” Laurent hisses, voice laced with so much hatred that for a moment Damen’s protests die in his throat. Then Laurent seems to collect himself, his face smoothing over to perfect neutrality while he carefully pokes the cracked pieces of the shell with the tip of his boot.
Damen can tell that the device is irreversibly broken. “That was stupid,” he says. “We could have found out who placed it there and when.”
“We already know,” Laurent says, looking away from the pieces under his boot to Damen. “The Regent is sparing no effort in making sure he is going to be the next king. Did you find anything else?”
Damen shakes his head. There is something desolate in Laurent, in the way he had hidden the flash of anger like it had never been there in the first place. A few strands of hair frame his face and Damen catches himself with an impulse to push them behind Laurent’s ear.
He is a murderer, he reminds himself.
Laurent looks to the shirt in Damen’s hands. “It makes sense,” he mutters. “Now, if my room is clear I would like to get ready in peace.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any help getting out of that?” Damen says against his better judgement, his eyes resting on the curve of Laurent’s extremely lovely arse.
“Touch me and that’s the last time you’ll see your hand,” Laurent says mildly. “Now. Get. Out.”
~*~
The food is standard long haul stuff; compressed and flash frozen. “Fresher than fresh” the brand proclaims nonsensically. Their fresh is quite chewy, though Damen has definitely had worse. The view outside the small windows of the hull is stunning though.
Laurent has refused to tell him anything about the mission apart that he’d be in an out within few days, Damen would wait on the ship and then they’d be on their way. He knows where they are though – the view of the Stoneblade forest of Vask is unmistakable. The giant, flat mountains rise to the heights of several kilometres, while their sides, only dozen or so metres wide, curve into sharp edges. It was said the Vaskian pirate clans had hideouts inside the forest, but as far as Damen knew the people who had confirmedly walked in had never been confirmed to have walked out.
Laurent’s business is unlikely to have anything to do with the forest or the pirate clans, though. On the other side of the ship, away from the forest, over rolling grasslands spreads the city of Skarva. It is said to have been fashioned after the cities of Old Earth, lots of grey concrete mixed in with gleaming glass skyscrapers. Damen had done some business with the Empress, the AI hivemind collective formed by the digital profiles of all the citizens. It had been a big deal and he had been only sixteen, and it had made him a favourite to succeed his father after he retired.
Jord puts his plate opposite of Damen and sits down. “How’re you settling in?”
Damen likes Jord. He seems like a straightforward man of action without all the double speak Veretians are infamous for.
He shrugs. “Well enough. Though I don’t like all this sitting around. Have you heard anything from Laurent?”
Jord strokes his stubble. “Aimeric called earlier and said they’d gained entry and were expecting to be back tomorrow morning.” He grimaces apologetically. “That’s all I can tell you, sorry.”
“It seems a bit pointless to keep me in the dark.”
Jord shrugs. “The Captain never volunteers more information than he has to. Says every crumb of information you let slip is a knife waiting to stab you in the back.”
“I can’t imagine living like that,” Damen says and gulps down some of the vitamin supplemented water.
“Before Auguste –“
“Why are you whispering like a bunch of teenagers gossiping about their crushes?” Lazar asks from the doorway. He takes a one look at their surprised faces and grins. "Ah, you were talking about the boss. He wouldn't like that."
Damen sighs. "So Jord told me. He trusts you guys though."
"As much as he does anyone, I suppose,"Jord concedes.
While he looks slightly resigned Lazar seems fiercely proud. "We've earned it. Once- "
"Lazar," Jord interrupts with a significant look. Damen almost feels resentful. They have no reason to distrust him especially after they have already placed so much trust in him. He misses Nikandros and Pallas keenly.
~*~
"There has been a complication," Jord says tersely as Damen steps onto the bridge. "Laurent is returning."
Outside, the star of the planet is sinking behind the Stoneblade forest – Laurent is almost half a day early.
"What happened?"
"I don't know, Laurent cut the communications."
That means he is most likely being chased.
"How far away was he?"
"He should be here in twenty."
The ship has been essentially launch-ready the whole time, but in silent understanding they double and triple check every setting. They are ready to fly the moment Laurent reaches them. What about Aimeric? Damen doesn't ask.
After twenty two minutes the scanner picks up Laurent's signature and he materialises onto the bridge. He staggers as his body fully materialises and the ships gravity field hits him. His face is bloody and he is holding his body in place with forced tightness. He is wearing knee-high boots, black shorts, and a white shirt – also splattered with blood – like he has been dressed up as some kind of kinky waiter, and his hair is tied back, but most of it has slipped free.
"Go!" he snaps out from between his tightly clenched teeth.
Damen expects Jord to protest. He has been on the ship for a few days and already he knows how protective Jord is of Aimeric. Instead, Jord has them shooting into the sky so quickly that the ship's artificial counter balance field struggles to keep up and Damen has to grab the nearest wall for support.
They only slow down inside a nearby dust cloud with the ship's cloaking technology working on full power. Damen can tell it's doing a good job though.
"What happened?" Jord asks before Damen can voice the same question.
Laurent wipes blood away from his mouth. "Aimeric clearly thought that punching the target's elderly racist mother would be a good idea. It was not." Laurent's voice is still as a frozen pond surface, but his fists are tightly clenched. "I had to take the target down there and then before we were both dragged off to a detention centre. I managed to escape in the confusion while he didn't."
"The Empress is not going to let him go, right?" Jord asks.
The Empress was a work of genius, an AI that was a collective entity of perfectly balanced value judgement of their people with a super computer's ability to calculate the statistically best solution. They'd come up with personal, highly effective rehabilitation programs for criminals, but when they judged someone too dangerous or calculated their risk to profit ratio be too low they took them out without hesitation.
"Aimeric has no value to them. Simply risk and wasted resources with no reward," Laurent says, grimacing lightly. "Jord, send transmission to my uncle that the target has been eliminated, but that we are delayed. I'm going to get cleaned up."
Laurent turns to the doorway and Jord to his command port. Damen watched incredulously, and before he can think better of it he speaks: "How can you abandon him like this?"
Jord's head whips towards Laurent so fast it's a miracle he doesn't get whiplash. Laurent, however, stops in the middle of a step but doesn't turn.
"Thank you for your input, Damen," he says, voice dripping with honey. "Perhaps you could to contribute further to my plan for saving Aimeric after I have washed this blood off me? Unless you would prefer to yell more uninformed opinions at me straight away?"
Somewhere behind him Lazar sniggers and to his horror Damen feels his cheeks heating up.
Laurent glances over his shoulder. "No? Didn't think so."
~*~
To Damen’s surprise Laurent had actually involved Damen in the planning and the plan itself. Which is why he is standing in the sewers of Vask together with Laurent, trying to deactivate the alarm on the maintenance shaft leading into the correction facility without cluing in the Empress.
Laurent waits quietly, hand resting on his gun, but Damen can feel his tense attention at the back of his neck. He is glad Laurent is not rushing him though. Five minutes is all he should need to do this properly.
The malware forms quickly inside his mind and he double checks the code before feeding it into the alarm system. The hatch at the end of the shaft lets out a faint click as the lock opens.
“Shall we?” Damen says, turning to Laurent. His voice comes out slightly muffled through the mask he is wearing.
Laurent doesn’t say anything, just climbs straight into the shaft.
“Excellent job, Damen. Very impressive, Damen. Thank you, Damen.” He mutters petulantly as he squeezes in after Laurent. He thinks he hears a faint snicker from Laurent, but it could be his imagination.
~*~
No humanoids work in these kinds of places. Why would they, when everything can be done by AIs much more efficiently and securely – unless someone like Damen comes along anyway.
First few times a robot rolls past them Laurent tenses, but Damen knows his shit. He even managed to find out Aimeric exact location from the system so they head directly to the second floor hallway and count the doors. Aimeric should be in room 225, but there are no numbers on the doors. The map Damen has is quite good though.
Finally, they come to the room that should be 225. The doors are white, with no handles or keypads – the robots are part of the same network as the building so they can communicate with it directly. Damen presses his left palm against the door, looking for the locking mechanism.
“Can you see inside the room?” Laurent asks.
“No. I only get a sense of electronic circuits and transmitting devices. If there was a camera inside there I could probably hack into it as long as it was receiving and transmitting, but I don’t think there is one.”
“Then we better hope this is the right door, and not where their reinforcement troops are kept.”
The door slides open. “It’s the right door,” Damen says.
Aimeric is sitting on the floor, legs curled against his chest, wearing the same dainty outfit Laurent had had on earlier. The room is painted with geometric shapes that make the surfaces look uneven and full of sudden drops. The blueprint tells Damen the walls and floor should be straight, though, even if the illusion is convincing.
“Psychological torture; how lovely,” Laurent observes dryly. “Get up, Aimeric.”
Aimeric stares at them eyes wide for a moment, then hops to his feet and crosses the floor, seemingly unbothered by it. Laurent hands him a smartsuit wristband that Aimeric clips on and activates, the gleaming fabric spreading over his body.
As soon as Aimeric steps out of the door Damen feels something going wrong in the main system that his malware is connecting him to.
“Shit, there’s some kind of backup alarm system in place that got activated by the loss of your signature in the room.” He is speaking while simultaneously trying to feed more into his code, countering the signal and turning it into a system malfunction error.
“Can you handle it?” Laurent asks.
“I’ve prevented a full alarm,” Damen says, mind still half working inside the system. “But it’s too late to fully prevent any flags from going up. Someone will check soon, so we should hurry.”
“Well what the fuck are we waiting for then?” Aimeric asks, twirling the gun Laurent had given to him in his hand.
“Indeed,” Laurent says and Damen thinks it sounds like he is smiling, even if Laurent’s mouth is hidden by the mask. His eyes seem to be shining brightly, though.
They take off running, Laurent leading them down the same way they had come from. The robots still ignore them, but Damen doesn’t think it’ll be long before they have a full scale military response chasing after them. Hopefully they’ll be long gone by then.
They reach the maintenance shaft and Laurent stops, motioning Aimeric and Damen to go first. Aimeric slides in, but Damen hesitates; it makes more sense for him to go last – Laurent points his gun at Damen and then to the shaft, lifting an eyebrow. Damen is not sure how seriously he takes the threat but he goes anyway. Ultimately, this is Laurent’s mess.
After a small delay Laurent also climbs in and Damen re-activates the alarm and sets his program to self-destruct.
Aimeric squints at Laurent. “What did you do?”
“I left them a note,” Laurent says, and this time Damen has no doubt that he is smirking.
~*~
They take off as soon as they have all climbed aboard the ship and as Damen pulls his mask down it moulds back into his suit. Laurent does the same, while Aimeric simply sinks down to the floor, clearly exhausted. Jord looks like he wants to go over, but something is holding him back, the something probably being the icy look on Laurent’s face as he looks down on Aimeric.
“Next time you pull something like that I’ll shoot you myself,” he says.
Aimeric looks to the floor and taps his wrist so his whole suit retracts. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, barely audible.
“I don’t care if you’re sorry or not. What I care about is that you won’t pull shit like that ever again.”
Jord finally comes forward and puts a hand on Aimeric’s shoulder, interrupting whatever reply he had just been formulating. He glances up at Jord and sighs. “I won’t.”
Slowly, Laurent smiles. “Good. I’d hate to lose you.”
Aimeric takes Jord’s hand and pulls himself up. “Thanks, I’d hate to lose me too.”
Laurent huffs, then lets out a short bark of laughter that he suppresses with his hand. Damen rather wonders what it would take for Laurent to truly laugh openly.
“I don’t know why I put up with you. Go and get changed and get some food, you must be starving.”
“Aye, captain.”
Jord practically pushes Aimeric out even as Damen tries very hard not to smile, especially when he notices that Laurent is watching him. Their eyes meet and for a moment they just regard each other. Laurent is not what he expected. He had gone back for Aimeric without a moment’s hesitation, even though the smart thing would have been to leave, and Damen appreciates that kind of loyalty. He would do the same for his men, after all.
Laurent’s eyes are very blue even from few feet away where Damen is standing, and his face is striking. He is one of the most gorgeous people Damen has ever seen, and Damen has seen a lot of gorgeous people.
“Thank you,” Laurent says finally.
Their eyes hold.
“Good job, man,” Orlant says and claps Damen on the back with unnecessary force that makes him stumble half a step forward.
“Cheers,” Damen mutters. When he looks up Laurent has looked away. He glances at Orlant who is smiling at him widely, but perhaps a bit too knowingly.
~*~
Damen doesn’t knock when he opens the door to their room and instantly regrets it: Jord is lying on the bed and Aimeric is sitting on top of him, back arched and head thrown back, his hips moving rhythmically, while Jord’s hand is – Damen hastily averts his eyes and backs out, closes the door and tries very hard not to think about what he just saw.
He considers going to Orlant’s and Lazar’s room and stealing some blankets from them, but decides against it and heads to the kitchen to get a coffee.
The lights have already dimmed to simulate planetary light conditions, improving sleep cycle stability, and the cycling blue light of the drinks machine seems almost too bright even as the refreshing smell of coffee drifts into Damen’s nostrils.
He grabs a lid for the cup and heads towards the bridge, thinking he might just as well enjoy some peaceful alone time with the stars. It’s funny how the knowledge that the others have headed for bed and the dimmed lights create illusion of a night even in the outer space where no such a thing exists. Everything seems more quiet; even the ship seems to be cruising more softly – only his footsteps seem to echo louder than usual.
As the door to the bridge slides open a figure – Laurent – startles and turns towards him. “What are you doing here?” he asks, but for once it’s simply mildly surprised, not barbed.
Damen shrugs awkwardly. “My room was occupied.”
“Ah, you were sexiled.” For some reason the thought seems to amuse Laurent. He sits down on the floor and motions Damen to join him; Damen goes. He settles next to Laurent, almost touching, but mindful of the little cursory distance separating them. Laurent seems relaxed and the last thing Damen wants to do is to ruin that by being pushy and making Laurent uncomfortable.
“They think that I don’t know they’re fucking,” Laurent says, looking up to the stars flying past them. “It’s almost insulting, considering how obvious they are. Even you had clued in that there was something going on there.” He glances at Damen.
Damen gives a little half shrug and sips his coffee before answering. “Even me? I’m pretty sure that was an insult.”
“A simple statement of a fact.” Laurent eyes Damen’s coffee cup with obvious jealousy. “I wish I’d gotten some.”
Damen takes another sip and hums contently, perhaps mostly for Laurent’s benefit. “It’s why I had drink machines installed on the bridge of my ship as soon as I got my first captaincy.”
Laurent lifts an eyebrow. “I shall add that on the top of the list of urgently needed upgrades.”
He looks away from Damen again, eyes tracking the horizon. They are flying through a relatively empty zone, with even the closest stars burning relatively small. A comet is hurling past towards one of them, close enough that its tail can just about be seen by naked eye.
Wordlessly, Damen offers his cup to Laurent.
For a moment Laurent looks at the offered coffee like he is not quite sure what to make of it. Then, he lifts his eyes to Damen’s and smiles – Damen thinks there is something shy and sweet – or perhaps simply unguarded – about it. When Laurent’s fingers close around the cup their fingers brush and the touch lingers for a moment. Damen thinks how much he would simply like to hold Laurent’s hand and just sit here, side by side, looking at the stars.
Laurent takes the cup, breaking the contact, and takes a slow, savouring sip, and sighs contently.
Damen half-expects him to say something but he doesn’t, simply gazing up into the vastness of the space surrounding them. Every crumb of information you let slip is a knife waiting to stab you in the back.
Damen refuses to believe that. “I know you found me because I’m your best bet at freeing Auguste, but thank you. Once Auguste is freed Kastor and the rest of Akielos will see that my honour is still intact and that I didn’t almost recklessly drive us into an all-out war. I can finally go home.”
“Even if –“ Laurent swallows the word- “when we have freed Auguste I doubt it’ll be that easy. If I recall correctly Kastor was quite eager to sell you out to my uncle.”
The languid peace that had filled Damen just moments before evaporates as soon as Laurent’s words leave his mouth. Damen had been hurt that Kastor hadn’t believed and defended him, wouldn’t have believed it if Nikandos hadn’t played him the recording of the holo-conversation between Kastor and the Regent, but Kastor is his brother.
“He was doing what was necessary to prevent all-out war and preserve the honour of Akielos. All the evidence pointed to me.”
Laurent stares at him, eyes narrowed. “If it had been you in the explosion, and Auguste the one who had been framed, I would have torn down the whole galaxy without question to find proof of his innocence.”
“It’s not –“ It’s not the same, he wants to say, but the words die on his lips. Why is it not the same? The circumstances are different, he decides stubbornly. He and Kastor had never been emotionally overly close, due to their large age gap and the awkwardness between their mothers. And Kastor had had the entire weight of their clans future on his shoulders. It doesn’t mean he won’t welcome Damen back with open arms once he has proven his innocence. He opens his mouth, trying to find the words, but suddenly Laurent’s communicator beeps loudly.
As Laurent reads the message his whole body tenses and even in the dim light his face suddenly seems ashy and pale. His eyes are wide when looks to Damen. “My uncle has summoned us to Arles.”
~*~
They all sit quietly around the meeting table as Laurent explains his plan that as far as Damen understands comes down to “pray to every bloody god you have ever heard of that the Regent doesn’t realise that something is going on”.
When Laurent finishes talking they all sit in the silence for a long moment. Aimeric drops his head on the table and groans. “We’re going to fucking die.”
Damen briefly, though not very seriously, entertains the idea of calling Nikandros to pick him up and going back into hiding.
“As much as I hate to agree with Aimeric on anything he’s got a point,” Orlant says, shrugging.
Laurent draws up to his feet in one smooth, graceful movement and then tilts his head back, looking down on them very deliberately insultingly. “My uncle has no idea that I know that Auguste is alive or that Damen is anything else than my prisoner. We’ll respond to his summons and then fly out again, which we have done approximately –let’s see – thousands of times. So unless you have all suddenly lost your spines and want me to wheelchair you out of the airlock, you better stop acting like a bunch of wussies and go to prepare for our arrival in Arles.”
~*~
Vere is a small exoplanet a two weeks travel away from Vask. A post-earth colony had once inhabited part of the plains, but had eventually been abandoned due to the inhospitable and unpredictable surroundings. The ruins of the colony have long since been looted, but in the protection of the vast forests another city has been born: Arles, the heart of the pirate clan of Vere.
Damen has heard stories – free smugglers and other independent entrepreneurs liked to brag about having been everywhere – but his imagination has failed to get even close to reality.
It’s hard to say whether the white curtain is low hanging clouds or mist as they descend through its layers. The trees, as they emerge from the mist are giant, with thick, long trunks and umbrella like crowns that they dive under. And then finally Arles, built around the trees in a dizzyingly elaborate network of carved stone and stained glass.
Over the radio Laurent gives his authorisation code. Damen memorises it, though Laurent gives him a knowing look that suggests Damen will have no use of it. They are standing next to each other, Laurent in his smartsuit, Damen in his casual gear. But around his neck is a slave-collar. It’s a nasty piece of technology, capable of tracking, giving him electronic zaps, rendering him unconscious and even inhibiting his free will by influencing certain neural signalling pathways. It would take him very little time to hack in to even a fully protected version but Laurent had let him to programme a direct back-gate into this one, ensuring that he is essentially in control of its function.
At least unless he was going to be completely taken by surprise, but he trusts Laurent not to abuse the power. The ship docks, and a figure wearing a black smartsuit and a deep red cloak appears from the main door, flanked by guards. Damen has no difficulty guessing the man’s identity even before Laurent by his side tenses.
He looks to Laurent and their eyes meet. “In and out. Easy.” Damen says, and Laurent gives him a ghost of a smile. “The game is on,” Laurent says, “let’s play.”
Laurent leads the crew out of the ship, with Damen flanked in the middle. The regent is wearing an expression of benevolent concern and widens his arms to hug Laurent. Laurent, however, skilfully grabs his hands into his own and kneels.
“Uncle, I have captured Damianos of Akielos. Auguste will finally be avenged!” his voice seems to burn with emotion. Damen can’t see his face, but he seems to be staring directly up at the Regent.
The regent pulls Laurent up and places a hand on his shoulder and his expression is regretful. “Your brother will surely rest in peace now, nephew,” he seems shockingly sincere, and Damen wonders whether Laurent could be wrong after all. “Alas, there are other matters we must discuss for the good of Vere. Like the botched mission in Vask.”
Laurent doesn’t lower his gaze. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean, uncle. The target is dead and no evidence was left behind.”
For a moment the regent’s face looks strained. The leaves above rustle in the wind, and sounds of people chatting can be heard beyond the docking area. One of the regent’s guards, carrying a ceremonial spear of all things, sneezes.
The regent drapes his arm around Laurent’s shoulder. “Laurent, you know I don’t blame you. It must have been very emotional time for you after just capturing Damianos. There is some fallout, but we will discuss it tomorrow with the council. Now I’m just happy to have you back home, safe and sound.”
“You’re too good to me, uncle,” Laurent says and stiffly extracts himself. “Please excuse me while I take care of the crew and get cleaned up.”
“Of course,” the regent concedes with a nod. “I will see you all at the dinner. I hope your new slave can also join us. I think it will be excellent for the morale.”
He leaves, the guards at his tail and Laurent turns to them, eyes burning with fury, even as his voice is perfectly even and pleasant. “You heard the Regent. Orlant and Jord, bring Damianos to my room. Lazar stay on the ship. Aimeric, go visit your mother or she won’t forgive me. I will see you at dinner.”
Aimeric makes a small, playful bow, and then strides off. Laurent motions to them, and Damen, flanked by Jord and Orlant, follows him.
They come across almost no-one along the short walk through winding hallways, just two women in smartsuits who salute Laurent as he walks past, and two boys and a girl who hide behind a corner and peek at them as they walk past.
They stop behind a large door made from bulletproof stained glass depicting the sunburst insignia of Vere. The glass is completely opaque, though Damen tries to peer through it.
“Check the hallway,” Laurent instructs Jord and Orlant. “Slave.” Laurent nods towards the door.
Damen places his hand against the door. It is a work of true art – the technology is completely hidden from naked eye, while the whole construct is actually a true triumph in engineering rather than art. The entry logs show last person to enter and exit was Laurent, matching the times he had given Damen. There is no sign of tampering.
Damen gives Laurent a nod, and Laurent places his hand on the door. Fascinatingly, Damen follows how the door scans Laurent’s fingerprints, his face and whole body in a second before opening.
For a moment Damen forgets himself. “I would love to meet whoever designed this, it’s –“
Laurent kicks him in the shin. Hard. “Quiet, slave.”
Damen glares at him, but follows Laurent inside. There is a little sitting area with a sofa, an open plan kitchen, two doors leading to what must be the bedroom and the bathroom and large double doors opening up to what seems to be a small indoor garden. It is not a big apartment for one that is on a planet and though the furniture is luxurious, with paintings on the walls, Damen’s own rooms had been much bigger, with indoor pool and personal gym and a VR theatre.
At Laurent’s gesture he sweeps the room but they seem to be all clear. Laurent seems mildly perplexed by this. “I suppose we can speak freely then,” he says and slumps down on the sofa.
“You seem surprised,” Damen observes. He eyes the chair across from the sofa Laurent is on and the sofa. Laurent catches his eye and tilts his head, then curls his legs, making room to Damen. Damen goes and sits down, Laurent’s gaze hot on his skin.
“I am,” Laurent says and frowns slightly. “It makes no sense. He bugged my ship and by all accounts that should have been way harder than bugging my rooms.”
“Maybe he thought the risk of discovery was lower this way?”
Laurent purses his lips. “My uncle rarely does anything without a good reason.” He lets his head fall back. “But I have no idea what that reason might be.”
They sit in silence for few minutes. Damen keeps scanning their surroundings for any suspicious signals, but his senses catch nothing. He doesn’t think he could have missed anything – suddenly, Laurent’s feet are on his lap. Surprised, Damen’s eyes snap to Laurent, but his eyes are closed and he has sunk deeper into the sofa.
“So, uh.” Laurent shuffles into a better position, one of his legs coming to rest against Damen’s torso. Surely this is Laurent flirting, Damen thinks a bit desperately and tries to will the heat starting to gather between his legs away. Or he could just be fucking with you, Damen’s rational brain reminds him.
One of Laurent’s eyes cracks open. “Yes?”
“Um,” Damen starts again. “The dinner?” He hopes that’s enough eloquence.
Laurent sighs. “Just a gathering of the crews that are on-planet right now. It’s an annoyance, nothing more, as long as we keep the act up. You’ll see.”
~*~
Damen has seen. Far too much. The dinner hall is an arrangement of small tables, behind which the guests lounge on cushions. In the middle of the floor, where all the tables face, is the evening’s entertainment. The first number had been a skilfully arranged dance choreography with dizzying flips and spins. Now, however there’s a pair of young women, wearing nothing but body paint, dancing and writhing against each other to the tunes of slow string music. Damen is starting to feel exceedingly uncomfortable, while the others in the room seem to be largely unbothered, chatting quietly while throwing some appreciative glances to the performers from time to time.
Laurent doesn’t look appreciative or bothered, but rather seems to be completely blind to the display. Instead he is relaxedly greeting the trickle of people swinging by his table. Each time someone mentions Auguste – which happens a lot – his smile turns sharp and he gestures towards Damen, kneeling next to the table, on the hard floor, unmoving as instructed.
“He was very rebellious at first,” Laurent is currently saying to a bald man with mouse like eyes. “But there are ways to chip away at even the strongest of minds. He is still there, of course, suffering at the face of this humiliation. His suffering is very important to me.” From the corner of his eye he can see Laurent smiling exceedingly nastily. Then, he exceeds his foot towards Damen. “My feet are tired. Massage them, slave.”
Their eyes lock. Damen grits his teeth and glares at Laurent, but carefully removes his boot and starts massaging. The man who had been talking to Laurent lets out a little yelp of delight.
“You have such talent, Laurent. I cannot wait to see what you’ll come up next.”
“Oh, me neither,” Laurent says and nods goodbye to the man who backs away.
As soon as the man’s back is turned Damen stops massaging and goes to retreat back to his knees.
“Did I say you could stop?” Laurent asks sweetly. Freely falling hair is framing his face and his eyes are dancing with devilish delight. Damen contemplates ignoring him, but it does occur to him that two can also play this game.
With great care he places Laurent’s foot on his lap and starts massaging it again. This time, he takes his time, letting his fingers linger. Slowly, he lets his fingers run upwards on Laurent’s calf, sweeping sensuously. Damen has had many erotic massages in his life and has given a few as well – he knows what to do.
Laurent’s breath hitches a little. Damen steals a glance – Laurent’s lips are slightly parted, his eyes burning on Damen’s skin.
Suddenly, faster than Damen has time to comprehend, Laurent moves and strikes Damen across the face. He stumbles backwards.
“How dare you!” Laurent hisses, then turns to look at the two people who have just arrived to greet him, staring at them in mild bewilderment; Aimeric, and an older woman in a long, flowing dress. Damen, shocked, lifts a hand to his stinging cheek.
“Loyse, how lovely to see you,” Laurent says, like nothing had just happened, and stands up to kiss her cheek. “My apologises you had to see that, it appears I haven’t managed to break him completely quite yet.”
Loyse, who is presumably Aimeric’s mother, smiles understandingly. She has a sweet face and friendly eyes. “For him to make advances on you, perhaps you have simply broken him too well. It’s good to see you safely home as well, Laurent. And thank you for bringing my son back as well.”
Aimeric looks down, visibly embarrassed. “Mum!” He says quietly but insistently. Loyse gives him a knowing smile.
“I’m simply doing my duty as the captain,” Laurent says.
Loyse nods. “That you are.” She turns to leave, but a shadow flashes over her face and she stops for a moment. “Be careful, Laurent. There have been whispers.”
“Always. Thank you.”
A few more people come by while Laurent largely ignores Damen. The erotic dancers are replaced by what seems to be an insanely complicated play with no words. The actors appear in multiple costumes and Damen has trouble discerning whether these are the same or different characters. The only thing he is relatively sure about is that several people have been murdered, by the end only one person is standing up, holding a knife and silently weeping over a body of someone that Damen thinks was either their brother, arch-enemy, lover or father. The music fades away, and from the end of the room a clear cling cling sounds out. The Regent is standing up, holding a spoon against the rim of his wine glass. A complete hush falls over the room.
“Loyal friends,” he starts. Damen thinks he can hear Laurent’s teeth grinding against each other. “Today we have a special reason to celebrate. Two years ago our leader, my own nephew Auguste, was cowardly murdered through trickery by Damianos of Clan Akielos!”
The room boos.
“Now, finally, Laurent has brought him to justice!”
Cheers break out. Laurent is smiling, but his left hand is clutched into a tight fist under the table.
“Thus, I propose we finish today’s celebrations with his public execution!”
The cheers are even louder. Someone is banging their table with their fist. Damen glances the entrance from the corner of his eye. He might make it out, but he doesn’t think he’d make it out of Vere.
Laurent stands up. As people notice him, they quiet, waiting in electric silence.
“Uncle,” Laurent starts. His voice is like steel. “Auguste was my brother. And nobody here wants to avenge him more than I do.” He pauses, like challenging anyone to disagree. Nobody utters a sound. “Damianos of Akielos does not deserve the mercy of quick death. He deserved to suffer, have his pride stripped away by him piece by piece, and have his mind unravel until all that is left is a whimpering, drooling shell.” Laurent’s hate is there, in every word, and briefly Damen wonders if perhaps this has indeed been some elaborate trap after all. If perhaps he should have listened to Nikandros. But when he glances up Laurent is staring straight at the Regent, eyes burning.
Someone – Aimeric – starts clapping, and slowly the whole room joins him.
“No mercy!” a voice screams over the applause.
The Regent glances down hiding his face in shadow, but for a moment Damen sees his expression and he can’t quite tell whether it’s a grimace or – strangely – a smile. When he looks up again his face is one of neutral benevolence. Damen wonders if Laurent has learned to control his face from his uncle.
Cling. The room quiets once again.
“You’re right, of course. Damianos must suffer. But must you insist on keeping him by your side? He might be dangerous. “
“Thank you for your concern,” Laurent says, and leans down, hooking his fingers under the collar on Damen’s neck and tugging their faces close. “But I have this savage safely on the leash.” Damen glowers at him. Mostly for show.
“As you say then,” the Regent concedes. “His punishment is your responsibility then.”
Laurent lets go of the collar, and Damen, who has been pulling against it, drops down.
“Thank you, uncle. I won’t disappoint you.”
Damen wonders if the others really fail to hear the underlying threat in his voice.
~*~
The feast crawls past, but finally Laurent stands up to retire, and Damen rises to follow.
“He doesn’t deserve to walk, why not make him crawl?” asks an unpleasant voice from behind them. A weasely man is standing behind them, smirking widely.
“Guion, what an unpleasant surprise,” Laurent says mildly. Damen chokes a little and has to suppress a cough. “I haven’t seen you since Loyse stole your ship and crew and divorced you. I was under the impression she left you on some unoccupied moon to die.”
Guion pales a little. “Loyse will get what’s coming for her. As for the rest, I do still have some loyal sons.”
“A shame,” Laurent says. “You do have a point, however. Slave, crawl.”
Damen stares at him. Laurent narrows his eyes and his hand goes to the collar’s remote on his belt. “Crawl.”
Damen glances at Guion. He contemplates not doing this. Laurent can’t actually force him, after all. Two years ago he would never have even considered obeying; his pride had been his shield. He believes he knows better now. Slowly, he drops to his knees, already sore and bruised from the night of kneeling. He hates Laurent.
“Good night, Guion,” Laurent says, and strides to the door. Damen crawls after him on all fours. The titters following him seem to echo in the room.
~*~
As soon as the door to Laurent’s chamber closes behind them Damen springs to his feet and crowds into Laurent’s space.
“Too far, Laurent,” he says. He considers lifting his fist.
Laurent doesn’t back away. He lifts his head and leans forward so that their noses almost touching. Though the light is dim, and Laurent’s pupils have swallowed most of his iris Damen can still make out the icy blue in them.
“I went exactly as far as I needed to. And for Auguste I would go further still.”
Their noses brush. Outside, the wind is howling, but the rush of blood in his ears is louder and Laurent’s breath on his skin tickles.
Slowly, Damen lifts his hand to Laurent’s waist. Laurent is wound tightly as a string and doesn’t even seem to be breathing under Damen’s hand. He tugs, even so gently, and momentarily loses his breath when Laurent comes and presses their bodies together. Damen doesn’t think he has ever felt so electrified.
Laurent’s nose brushes against his cheek. “This is foolishness,” he whispers and his lips graze against Damen’s skin. His eyes have fluttered closed.
“I don’t care,” Damen whispers back, lifting his other hand to trace Laurent’s jaw.
Laurent’s breath stutters, and his hand comes up to clutch Damen’s. For a moment he rests his head against it. Then he sighs, and opens his eyes, pulling his head back.
“But I do.” He drops Damen’s hand. “You can sleep on the sofa. Good night, Damen.”
He steps out of Damen’s arms, and walks to his bedroom, closing the door. Damen’s chest feels empty.
It’s for the best, he tells himself, staring at the closed door. He shouldn’t endanger everything for sex, no matter how hot Laurent was. It’s just sex. And it’s not like you haven’t been rejected before.
He can almost see Nikandros’ disapproving look.
~*~
Damen wakes with the barrel of a gun pointing straight at his head. The man is wearing a mask.
“Just stay still,” the man whispers. “Once Laurent is dead we’ll drop you off to some distant corner of the galaxy with a handsome reward.”
In Laurent’s bedroom something falls to the ground and shutters. For a moment the man above Damen looks towards the sound and Damen doesn’t waste time. He slams the man’s hand aside, and grabs the gun, even as the man presses the trigger, firing uselessly to the ground. He brings his knee up and kicks the man in the stomach, securing the gun as the man’s fingers loosen with surprise and pain. He turns the gun to the man’s head and fires, the sprints across the floor through Laurent’s open bedroom door, pointing the gun inside.
A man and a woman are lying on the floor. One of them has their throat slashed open, the blood spreading across the floor. What seems to have been an original Chinese Ming-vase from Old Earth has evidently been shattered over the woman’s head.
Laurent is wearing an oversized T-shirt spattered with blood and his right hand is holding a small stiletto and is starting at two assassins, a nakedly shaken expression on his face.
“Are you alright?” Damen asks and strides over, scanning Laurent’s body for injuries.
“I didn’t think he would go this far,” Laurent says, almost absently. “It’s a good plan.”
“Laurent, we need to go,” Damen says urgently.
There is a sound from behind them – Damen is not sure what it is, but he acts on instinct, slamming on Laurent and tumbling them over the bed. A blast fires at the wall behind the spot where Laurent’s head had been a moment before.
Damen doesn’t hesitate. He shoots the woman who had been stunned with the vase, but is now pointing a gun at them before she can take another shot.
“Are they dead?” Laurent asks. He is lying under Damen, hair messy, and is trying to crane his neck to see. “You’re crushing me,” he says a bit petulantly, and Damen almost laughs.
“Sorry,” he says and looks down to Laurent. “They’re dead.”
“Good. And don’t be sorry for saving my life.” For a moment Laurent looks almost conflicted, but then his eyes narrow with determination. Damen starts to move to let Laurent up, but suddenly Laurent’s arms surge up to his neck and he is being kissed.
Laurent’s mouth is hot, his lips soft and Damen’s whole body seems to instantly respond to his touch, lighting on fire. He pushes back, opening his mouth and finding Laurent’s tongue, eagerly engaging him.
His heart feels like it’s bursting in his chest and he never wants to forget the tight grip of Laurent’s fingers in his hair.
Laurent pushes him to the side and rolls on top of Damen. He pulls back, no more than an inch, and places his forehead against Damen’s. “We need to go.”
Damen recognises the importance of the words, but part of him refuses to contemplate letting Laurent go.
“We do,” he concedes, even as his fingers tighten around Laurent’s hips
Briefly, Laurent’s lips brush against his and then his weight is gone and he is standing above Damen, offering him a hand up. Damen takes it.
He surveys the room; part of the woman’s brains are decorating the wall. “Romantic,” he observes, slightly delirious with shock and adrenaline.
Laurent lets out a surprised giggle that he suppresses by slamming a hand over his mouth.
“Let’s run,” he breathes out. “I told the rest of them to sleep at the ship just in case.”
“Why didn’t we do that?” Damen asks, frowning.
“Appearances,” Laurent says, as he opens one of his drawers. “And I didn’t think he’d try to assassinate me in Arles.”
Laurent pulls his own gun from the drawer and activates his smart suit bracelet. Damen is a little bit sorry to see the suit cover Laurent’s legs.
They dash into the hallway, Damen half expecting to be greeted by gunfire, but Arles is dark and quiet. The floor is cold under his bare feet as they slap against it, the sound loud in the oppressive silence.
They stop outside a small service door leading to the ship dock.
“There are guards,” Laurent whispers.
Damen peers through the small window on the door. The dock’s only dimly lit, but he can make out a few shadows moving about.
“We need a distraction. Unless you just want to kill them.” Damen would prefer not to, but he is not as confident as he’d like to be that Laurent won’t simply go for it.
“I’d rather not. They’re my people and they’re simply doing their jobs.”
Internally, Damen sighs with relief, though their problem is still not solved. “Can you not just pull rank?”
“Technically, but we don’t know whether my uncle has given any special orders.” Laurent peeks through the window. He has to rise to his tiptoes to do it.
“Can you set things on fire?” Laurent asks thoughtfully.
Damen blinks at him. “What?”
“With your technomancy powers? Or with a lighter if you have one, but I assume you don’t.” He gives a significant look to Damen’s pj bottoms and bare chest. Damen thinks his gaze definitely lingers on his pecs.
Damen contemplates for a second – he has never done that but – “Yes.”
“Great,” Laurent says and fishes a key out of his pocket. “We sneak in from this door and go left. There is a fuel pump there that has got pretty good cover – make it blow up. With small delay if possible.”
“Fuck me,” Damen whispers even as Laurent is already opening the door. Quietly they sneak out into the shadow of the building and the cold night air.
Damen can make out four guards moving near their ship as they creep by the wall, behind crates and broken ship parts.
Laurent stops and gestures. There, in front of them is a small space fuel pump. Thankfully it seems to have its own, separate fuel tank not linked to the central storage, because blowing that up would probably destroy good part of Arles.
Damen places his hand on the pump. It’s simple tech, but in this case it’s a disadvantage, because making it overheat and short-circuit requires some near-impossible engineering acrobatics. Damen excels at those though.
It feels like it takes forever, and Damen feels like his toes are freezing off – he really needs to get one of the smartsuits Laurent’s crew has for himself. Finally, it all clicks together.
“Run,” he mouths to Laurent, who without hesitation takes off, still in the shadow of the wall. Damen follows, crouched. He calculated it should take about twenty seconds for the explosion to happen, but twenty seconds pass. He tugs Laurent to stop.
“It should have gone off, maybe –“ With a deafening explosion a pillar of fire rises up to the sky. The wave of heat instantly melts Damen’s frozen toes.
There are shouts, and the guards attention is definitely captured by the fire. They nod at each other and sprint.
To get to the ship they have to run across a much more heavily lit open area. As they enter it Damen half expects to hear gunshots, but they make it over without being shot and then they are climbing into the ship.
Damen’s heart is beating in his ears and the final steps feel dizzying. The cold and hot air are both burning in his lungs. As soon as the door closes behind them he just wants to collapse on the floor, but Laurent doesn’t wait, continuing to the bridge. Damen runs after him, panting, mentally promising to add more cardio to his workout routine.
The controls are already lighting up under Laurent’s touches. As the engine warms up Laurent opens the intercom.
“This is your captain speaking. Wake the fuck up and buckle in, because we are about to make an extremely hasty exit. “
He glances at Damen. “You too.”
Damen hesitates for a brief moment, then goes and buckles himself to the chair next to Laurent. The engines are burning at full power, and on the rear camera’s Damen can see a guard pointing towards the ship and yelling.
“Exiting at 0.6 light speed in five seconds, crew.”
Damen whips to stare at Laurent. “We are going to burn up in the atmosphere at that speed!”
“Trust me,” Laurent says and grins. Damen does not trust that grin.
“Three. Two. One.”
The g-force feels like punch in the gut despite the ships excellent stabilisers working on full power. The heat shield warning lights start going off. The ship shakes and creaks in a way that it’s definitely not meant to.
CRITICAL FAILURE proclaims a big red flashing light in front of Damen.
The ship shudders. Outside, the grey nothingness changes as they break out of the mist clouds, though they’re going too fast for Damen to make out any details. And then, as they leave the atmosphere, the shaking eases, and the ships stabilisers catch up.
REPAIRING, announces a yellow light on the screen.
“I feel sick,” Damen whispers faintly. “You’re insane.”
Laurent looks annoyingly composed and smug. “I know my ship.”
He speaks to the comm. “Everyone check in.”
“Jord in. Lazar is puking.”
“Aimeric in.”
“Orlant in.
“We have taken course towards Auguste. The final stage of operation Sunburst has been initiated. Meet me on the bridge as soon as Lazar has finished throwing up.”
In half an hour or so the crew is on the bridge and caught up on the assassination attempt and their escape. Unsurprisingly there is no mention of their make-out session.
“Summoning us back because of what happened in Vask was just an excuse to get us back to Vere. When my uncle heard I had found Damen he realised that the risk I’d find out the truth was too great, so he decided to frame Damen for my murder as well. The he could have happily executed him while pretending to be heartbroken about my death and then finally crowned himself as the king.”
“Fuck that bastard,” Orlant mutters. Damen finds himself agreeing vehemently.
“It’ll take us twenty-three hours or so to reach the fortress where Auguste is being kept, so rest and prepare accordingly. Dismissed.”
Laurent waves them away and the others go. Jord throws Damen a questioning look over his shoulder, but he shakes his head.
“You’re taking privileges,” Laurent observes, a bit tiredly.
“I was never part of your crew.” A moment ago Damen had thought that as soon as the others were gone he could simply wrap his arms around Laurent, but now he is not so sure.
“That’s true,” Laurent looks down to his hands. “I’m –“ He stops and swallows.
For the first time during their brief acquaintance Laurent looks young and lost. Damen makes a decision, goes over, and takes Laurent’s hand.
For a moment Laurent stares at their joined hands, almost surprised, and then he squeezes Damen’s hand and looks up.
“We’ll save him,” Damen says, gathering all his conviction.
Laurent studies his face. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Let’s go to bed. To sleep.”
Damen grins. Laurent shakes his head and stands up, but doesn’t let go of Damen’s hand, tugging him to follow.
They burrow into Laurent’s bed, Damen’s back against the wall and Laurent burrowed against his chest. Damen, for the first time in two years, find himself feeling at peace. He breathes in the scent of Laurent’s hair and thinks that for this it might be worth it to give up Akielos and his legacy.
~*~
Damen stares at the huge construction hanging in the horizon, and then to screen of numbers in front of him suggesting that it is not there at all. “That’s the lost Fortress of Old Artes,” he says to the numbers, slightly numb.
According to the legend old Artes had been almost a small artificial planet, a fortress travelling through space and even time. But the King of Artes had betrayed his Queen and when she had found out he’d been forced to flee her wrath. But controlling Artes required the blood of both of the families and though she hired the best engineers and technopaths across the galaxies they could not override the source code and Artes became adrift, and started decaying away. Eventually, the Queen was forced to take her people and flee.
The Akielons said she had been the first Pirate Queen of Akielos, while the treacherous king had founded Vere. As far as Damen understood the Veretians claimed the opposite. Damen had always thought it was nothing more than a story.
“It is,” Laurent confirms.
“How did you find it?”
“I didn’t,” he says and lifts his hand to silence Damen’s questions.
“Prince to the Praying Mantis, do you copy.” Laurent sends out the beacon, though the radar is dark with no ships detected in the vicinity.
The radar beeps, a ship appearing where there had just been empty space. Damen stares at the radar; he knows that ship. It’s his.
“Incoming transmission,” Jord announces.
“Put her through.”
“Hello, Laurent.”
Damen recognises the voice instantly. He can see her in his head, with her challenging smirk and blonde hair. It’s Jokaste. Jokaste who had broken up with Damen after three years of dating and had hooked up with Kastor within the same week. There had been rumours that their affair had started much earlier, though Damen refused to believe it.
Laurent is looking at him, his face unreadable. “Hello, Jokaste.”
“Is Damen there? I bet his face is priceless right now.”
None of this makes any sense, he thinks desperately. This is a nightmare.
“Quite,” Laurent says, still completely emotionless. “Jokaste has been working with me for some time,” he says to Damen.
“He means I’ve done some spying for him in exchange for extremely handsome payments.”
“You’re making this worse,” Laurent says, and finally his voice sounds a bit annoyed. Damen’s hands curl into fists.
“Fine. Damen. I left that recording of Kastor and the Regent for Nikandros to find so he could save you. You’re welcome. I’ve helped Laurent to find his brother, which by the way will also help you to clear your name, so you’re double welcome.”
Damen is quiet. Thinks. It makes sense; Nikandros should never have been able to accidentally discover a confidential discussion like that. But –
“Is that why you slept with Kastor?”
“Men and your fragile egos.” Jokaste sighs theatrically. “I dumbed you for Kastor because he was more useful than you were.”
Internally Damen reels. Useful.
“That’s enough!” The voice coming over the coms belongs to Nikandros.
“Nik?” Damen asks. He is pretty sure he has never been more confused in his entire life.
“Are you alright, Damen?” Nikandros asks. Damen can hear Jokaste grumbling something in the background.
“Yes? What the fuck is going on?”
“Laurent sent us a message to pick her up and she gave us these coordinates.”
Damen turns to stare at Laurent, who is staring back, unblinking. Damen thinks back to Laurent’s lips on his – if that was also part of some elaborate plan to ensure Damen’s trust. He imagines punching Laurent, forcing him to react.
“Jokaste found out where Auguste is. That means Kastor knew. That he really worked with your uncle to frame me.”
Laurent nods.
“The Regent and Kastor locked Auguste in the Fortress of Old Artes.” Then, finally, the revelation: “You don’t need my technomancy, you need my blood to open the Fortress’s defences.”
Damen looks away from Laurent, away from the looming shadow of the fortress, to the faces of the crew. Aimeric is staring Laurent open mouthed. Lazar and Orlant look bewildered. Jord seems to be trying to calculate a very complicated equation in his head. Laurent had told none of them.
Every crumb of information you let slip is a knife waiting to stab you in the back.
“You should have told me,” Damen says. He hears the accusation and bitterness in his own voice. That morning he had woken up with Laurent’s limbs wound around him, Laurent’s face buried in his neck. Laurent should have trusted him. He had thought Laurent trusted him.
“I’m telling you now,” Laurent snaps. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to trust you straight away when we met? The man who I had spent two years believing killed my brother? The man who facilitated the massacre of Marlas? Never mind that you would’ve also thought that I was straight up insane if I had showed up and announced that I needed your blood to free my supposedly dead brother from the legendary Fortress of Old Artes.” He stands up and speaks to the coms.
“Jokaste, I’m leaving it to you to guard our backs while we go in.”
“Of course, your highness.”
Laurent cuts the link.
He turns, looks Damen straight into eye. “Are you with me?” He extends his hand to Damen.
Damen wonders what would happen if he said no. He has no doubt Laurent has a plan for that scenario, one that would force him to cooperate regardless. But for now Laurent is asking, and there has been only one answer ever since Laurent had first sat down at his table, disguised as a prostitute.
Damen takes his hand, and something cracks on Laurent’s face, a tiny hopeful smile fluttering at the edges of his lips.
~*~
The ship is gliding slowly towards the gates of the fortress.
“There is some kind of force field around it,” Laurent explains. “Impenetrable to matter while also making the whole thing impossible to detect by any standard sensors. We know Kastor and my uncle entered through the gate –“ he points to the circular opening in the ring surrounding the fortress – “so there must be some kind of lock there.”
“Some kind of lock,” Damen repeats.
Laurent gives him a sharp glare, but then sighs. “It’s all we know.”
Damen nods. “We’ll figure it out.”
The ship sails into the archway. Bizarrely it seems to be made of stone. Damen can just about make out strange symbols carved onto the surface. Just beyond, there is a floating platform where modern docking system has been attached.
Damen points and Laurent nods, nudging the ship to the dock.
The ships sensors indicate that they have entered a breathable atmosphere, but they still suit up, Damen finally receiving one of the smartsuits. He thinks he will appreciate it more later, when he is not boarding a legendary fortress.
In the middle of the platform stands an obelisk. Though impossible to miss by naked eye, it’s practically screaming at Damen’s technomancy senses in a language that he doesn’t understand.
“It’s a computer,” he breathes out.
“Computer that works with our blood?” Laurent asks.
“Yes? I mean it’s working all the time, but we need to open some kind of lock or encryption to access it. Maybe.” Damen can’t help but gravitate towards the obelisk. It’s black surface seems to be completely smooth and shiny. “I think our blood will open the encryption, allowing us to operate it.”
Laurent pulls out a knife, then slices his thumb open without even wincing. He holds the knife hilt first to Damen, who takes it. There is a fine smear of Laurent’s blood on the blade as he runs his across his own thumb. It stings.
Side by side they step up to the obelisk, look at each other and press their bloody thumbs against the obelisk. Damen can feel the effect immediately. It is an encryption, he thinks triumphantly as the code rearranges itself in his mind. Simultaneously, the surface of the obelisk lights up with more of the strange symbols that adorned the archway. Their bloody fingerprints seem to be absorbed into the structure.
Damen studies the symbols. “I think we should leave the shield intact and just let ourselves through. I should be able to manage that.”
Laurent cocks his head, thinking. “It is a risk if we run into significant resistance, but I think that’s unlikely. It’s a perfect prison exactly because nobody knows about it. They wouldn’t have wanted to risk it or waste the resources.”
Damen touches three of the symbols. The programme aligns. Though the language is strange, he still understands its intent.
“There,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Yet they both hesitate for a moment. They are separated from the fortress by no more than half a kilometre of empty space, and the structure looms over them both enticing and threatening. Laurent eyes it.
“And you are sure we are not going to be incinerated as we approach?”
Damen lifts his chin, mock affronted. “Of course.”
They turn their backs on the Fortress and climb back to the ship.
“All good?” Jord asks as they step onto the bridge.
Damen nods.
“Forwards,” Laurent says. Damen wonders if the others heard the small tremor in his voice.
Slowly, the ship sails forwards, and for a long moment it feels like they’re all holding their breaths – but nothing happens.
“Not so impressive after all, really,” Aimeric comments, but his voice is a bit shaky.
There is a large docking area visible on the lower levels and Jord steers in between large pillars and parks the ship in the middle of the vast empty area.
As the door opens to the ground Laurent stands there for a moment, staring out. Carefully, Damen places his hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently.
“We’ll find him,” he says quietly.
Laurent smiles at him briefly, almost absently, and steps out from the ship. Damen follows at his heel.
The floor is made from slates of brown stone, covered by layers of unbroken dust. The large docks are broken up by arching pillars ascending to the high ceiling hidden by the darkness. Beyond, Damen can just about see several doors leading further into the structure.
He draws an arch on the dust with the tip of his shoe. “We should search for footprints,” he says to Laurent and the rest of the crew who have gathered behind them.
Laurent, who has been staring up to the invisible ceiling, nods. Damen wonders what is going on his head now that they’re this palpably close. Looking at Laurent’s face he thinks it might be fear.
After some aimless wandering Lazar calls out: “Here! I found fresh footprints!”
Laurent practically dashes over and Damen jogs after him. There, on the ground, are clearly several pairs of footsteps. Even now, at this stage, it feels slightly unreal.
“Jord and Lazar, stay at the ship. Aimeric and Orlant with us.”
They follow the footsteps into a curving hallway, built from the same brown stone tiles. The light of their torches bounces off the wall. There are few doors, leading to small rooms and other hallways, but the footsteps lead them straight to a stairwell and up, and then – outside.
It’s almost blindingly bright – an artificial sun shines brightly above them, illuminating the garden opening up in front of them. Once, it had clearly been well maintained and ordered, with banks and sections, but it has long since grown wild and escaped its shackles.
On a bridge crossing a small stream stands a man, staring at them in palpable astonishment. His long blond hair is flowing gently in the breeze, and his face is covered in uneven stubble.
“Auguste!” Laurent’s voice breaks as he rushes towards his brother. For a moment Auguste remains frozen, and then he is running too, all the way until Laurent slams against him and wraps his arms around him. Damen pretends not to hear Laurent’s sobs as he hides his face into Auguste’s neck.
The light of the artificial sun gleams on the golden hair of the brothers, and the scent of the wild flowers surrounding them is sweet. On the branch of a nearby tree a bird is signing.
A happy ending, Damen thinks.