Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You're not serious."

"Lady Sheryl, would I lie about anything this juicy?"

Lady Sheryl Goodspeed sat back in her plush chair to consider. No. Her companion might exaggerate at an outrageous rate, but generally only passed on rumors and gossip that had some truth to them, especially when it hit this close to home. Not quite able to slump due to the stiff lacings of her fitted jumpsuit, she took a moment to glance at the portrait of her husband adorning the wall of her boudoir. It was an old-fashioned painted portrait, and the artist had done an excellent job of capturing the warmth and humor in his eyes and that square, square jaw she loved so well. Sir John Goodspeed, Captain of the Guard, responsible for peace and security here in Tera Con Prime, capitol of the Tera Con Empire. Somehow, despite Sheryl having been a spy and assassin, they had managed not only to meet and fall in love, but to stay together, build a strong relationship and even trust, and have a son.

It was this very son she was contemplating as she returned her attention to the other person in the room. Spinach green, six-eyed, and panache that was the envy of every fashionista this side of the Lesser Magellanic Cloud. Tribore was a professional gossip monger, one of the best in the city, perhaps the whole empire, with an informant network that shamed every spy guild in operation. Male or female, it didn't matter, Tribore could charm and amuse just about anyone into spilling their secrets – and everyone else's, too.

"You're saying my son, my Gary, the man we've been trying for years to get to settle down, is in a secret relationship?" she pressed.

"Am I saying that? Oh, I am! Even better, a courting relationship," Tribore corrected, all six eyes wide with excitement. He poured them both more tea, slipping a dainty little cookie onto Sheryl's saucer as he handed her cup back. "We're beyond the casual dating stage, my lady. This is serious."

He wasn't wrong. At this echelon of society, there were rules for everything. Sheryl thought it was all a pain in the ass, but it had its uses and was easily weaponized. To openly court someone meant that several preliminary relationship stages had been passed, so courtship almost invariably led to an engagement and marriage. So what did it mean to secretly court someone? Sheryl sipped her tea, pondering this news and mentally checking off possible candidates.

She and John had been trying for years to get Gary into a steady relationship. It was a good way of forging alliances with other powerful families and the right spouse aided social and military advancement. Gary could definitely use the structure and stability. Though she loved him dearly, even Sheryl had to admit that removed from his rank as wing commander, her son hadn't amounted to much outside of being an excellent dancer and good at cards. Both were typical pursuits for any young noblemen. His armature entomology interests were usually left off the relationship resume, at least to start, to avoid instant turn-offs. He had attended the military academy as expected, graduated towards the top of his class, and was a daring and respected pilot for the Guard. Gary didn't seem inclined to do much else, but he was far too restless for his own good and capable of so much more. What Gary needed was someone to prod him into action – and by prod, she meant cattle prod. It took a bit, but once roused, he was unstoppable. This mysterious romance might just be the catalyst they were looking for.

However . . .

"Is he courting or being courted?" she asked, studying Tribore over the rim of her teacup. There was a difference when one pursued or was the pursued. These nuances mattered when it came time to negotiate a marriage contract. In general, being the pursued gave the negotiator a bit of an edge, but honestly, at this point, she'd take whatever she could get.

Suddenly coy, Tribore helped himself to another cookie. "Somebody who's not me but wants to be, stop me or I'll eat all of these." Even though he knew Sheryl had sent the servants away, he still glanced around as if to be sure they were alone. "I haven't read all the fine print yet, but I rather think he's courting."

"Oh?" Subtlety not being in his vocabulary, Gary tended to be a bit too aggressive with his attentions and spilling . . . no, vomiting his feelings for the world to see. He'd spent years pining after Captain Quinn Airgon, younger daughter of Commander Airgon. Sheryl and John's brief surge of hope for a daughter-in-law and, heaven help them, grandchildren, had ended with a black eye, a broken heart, and months of dramatic moping.

"Something about a declaration of love and he'd marry them if he could. That sort of thing."

"Really?" Sheryl's eyes narrowed, her suspicions on edge. This was almost too good to be true, but Gary tended to fall madly in love at the drop of a hat. What was more, she trusted Tribore. He was a close enough friend to be taking tea in her boudoir, after all, and his information was reliable. "So . . . do I know who this lucky individual is?"

"Well." Plainly, Tribore had been anticipating this moment all along. "You know the name and the face, but I don't know if you've ever met."

Her patience was wearing thin, but she knew Tribore was just making the moment last for his own enjoyment. "Tribore . . .Who is it?"

He took a breath, watching her expression as he relished every word, and dropped the bombshell.

"If rumor serves, it's Lord Avocato, captain of the Silverwing."

Lady Sheryl stared.

And stared.

There was silence.

Silence.

And yet more silence. Then, a twitch, and Sheryl Goodspeed finally managed to grind out:

"Whuuuut?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"John? We need to talk. Now."

Chapter Text

Bored out of his mind after an entire day of inactivity, Avocato closed his eyes and tried to ignore the ache in his leg as he rested in the sun. He was convinced the physical therapy he'd just completed was worse than the actual injury he'd sustained, and the injury – a blaster stun shot to his shin at point-blank range – was all the more annoying because his favorite uniform boots had been ruined. Some things he could forgive, but being forced to break in a new pair of boots was not one of them.

If it had been an actual battle, he would have minded less, but no, two days ago he and two of his lieutenants had been waylaid by a pack of Goodspeed's lackeys as they were walking home from a club exclusive to officers of the deep-space fleet. Cowards that they were, the Infinity Guardsmen only traveled in large packs and only attacked when their opponents were outnumbered. No matter. Ventrexians were a match for anything that wanted to come at them, and Goodspeed's goons needed the support. Three Ventrexians against six Infinity Guard, and Avocato the only casualty (and that being the highly rude and improper but unsurprising maneuver of drawing a blaster during what had started as - and should have ended as - a purely physical confrontation) was not so bad a record, especially since the Infinity Guardsmen had not escaped cleanly. They were going to need stitches and bandaging and sick leave, same as Avocato.

And just like Avocato, they were not going to say a word to the authorities about what had happened. Too many questions would be asked, and anyway, Avocato and his men hadn't lost the fight. The Infinity Guard was based here in Tera Con Prime, the city was supposed to be neutral territory. Theoretically, Avocato and his men should be able to move about at will.

Theoretically.

Conflicts between rival factions within Tera Con Prime's capitol city weren't exactly unexpected, and the constables and enforcers tended to turn a blind eye to small infractions, but outright violence was forbidden. Shooting an officer, and worse still, an officer's boots, was violation enough to make all rivalries lay low for a few weeks at least. Long enough for Avocato's leg to fully heal, he hoped. He very much wanted to pay back the Infinity Guard, but he had to be fit for duty first. Luckily, he didn't have to report to anyone while he was here, unlike the Infinity Guardsmen. Four solar days ago, he had been recalled to the capitol by the Lord Commander himself, and though he had arrived a day later, Avocato had not seen him, nor did he know what the Lord Commander wanted with him. That it was to be done in person spoke of its importance, and Avocato was glad of the break in near-constant battle (against the Goodspeeds and their obnoxious minions for the most part, occasionally alongside them against enemies of the Tera Con Empire). Plus, it gave them needed time for refits and upgrades on his ship, the Silverwing.

"Ah! Is that our fearless leader? I can hardly recognize you without your boots."

Standing at the arched entrance to the small garden was his first officer and best friend, Nikos. Short, sharp of claw and wit, and an outstanding officer, Nikos had been at Avocato's side since their academy days. With the possible exception of Nikos' wedding night and honeymoon, they had gone through everything together since they were seventeen, and while they often joked they could not function apart, the truth of the matter was that they almost couldn't.

"Shut up and tell me the latest," ordered Avocato, opening his eyes. As long as they were in the city, he was living in the apartment his parents maintained. Elegant and airy, it was so far removed from his cramped quarters on the Silverwing that Avocato couldn't get used to unfiltered air and having to walk more than five seconds to reach the refresher.

Nikos smiled and claimed the chair closest to Avocato's lounge, handing him a steaming cup of coffee. One of few decent things the Infinity Guard had brought to Tera Con Prime from earth was the beverage coffee, in all its various forms. Much as they hated to admit it, the drink was extremely appealing to Ventrexians, and both Avocato and his first officer consumed obscene amounts of it whenever they could. Of course, Nikos knew exactly how Avocato liked his coffee, and from which shop, and felt it his duty to keep his captain well supplied as he recovered. The thermal cup he handed over smelled heavenly. Avocato eyed him as he settled into his own cup. Nikos was a little too smug for something not to be up. He also knew his first officer was going to make him work for the information he wanted.

"So. How are you feeling?" began Nikos. He was far, far too innocent to be trusted.

"Suspicious," admitted Avocato carefully, studying him.

Feigned shock and wide eyes answered. "Whatever of?"

"You."

"You wound me, my lord."

"Better you than your boots."

"Oh, you're not getting over that anytime soon, are you?"

"My favorite boots! Would you get over it?"

"Let that be a lesson to never, ever be comfortable on the streets of Tera Con Prime. You or your feet."

Avocato let out a grumble. "How are the repairs on the ship going?"

"Splendidly, considering we weren't damaged. The refit is right on schedule."

"Why do I tolerate you?"

"I ask myself the same question every day."

"I remember when you were shy, quiet, and agreeable."

"And I remember when you didn't know how to make your bed or sew on a button." He saluted with his cup. "And don't say it. I know you still can't sew without getting injured. Have you figured out yet why the Lord Commander recalled you?"

"No. Have you?"

"Not quite, but in this case, rumor might serve."

"Oh?" Avocato frowned and sipped his coffee. It was perfect. "What rumor?"

"It's all over the city, but I'm not surprised you haven't heard anything laying low in here. Tell me, Avocato. We're friends, are we not? Brothers-in-arms, comrades, sworn somethings or other? You trust me, don't you?"

"Goddess Ventrexia help me, but yes, I do."

"So, much as I told you when I fell in love, you would reciprocate that trust and tell me if you happened to meet someone who set your heart racing and made your tail bushy with desire?"

"What are you going on about?" Avocato sat up, grimacing as he moved his injured leg. Medgel didn't work in cases like this, so recovery was just a matter of time. "You sound like a bad romance vid. Are you asking if I've fallen in love with someone? Of course I'd tell you, but I haven't. When the hell would I find the time?"

This was the moment Nikos had been driving towards. "Are there good romance vids? See, that's the allure of it." He waited for Avocato to take a mouthful of coffee. "According to rumor, you're in a secret relationship."

Avocato choked. He cast Nikos a vicious look and struggled to swallow without spewing his coffee across the patio.

"What?" he squawked, horrified.

"With Infinity Guard Captain Gary Goodspeed."

The horror intensified. He'd never even met that pasty-faced, humanoid trash. He stared at Nikos and gasped, "WHAT?"

"Oh, and there's been a communique. Your mother will be here next week."

The horror was real.

"WHAT?"

Chapter Text

"Derek! Doctor Bluestein! Take a load off. Want some coffee?"

Before his friends could answer, Gary was pouring coffee into three of the mugs lined up by the coffee urn. Shoving a doughnut into his mouth, he scooped up the mugs and lead them to an empty table in the officers' mess.

"You're plenty happy today, Gar," observed Derek, claiming one of the cups. He was a swarthy, rugged-looking man with dark eyes, olive skin, and a killer smile that made women sigh – the dead opposite of his commanding officer. Gary Goodspeed was fair of hair and skin, with bright blue eyes and a boyish, almost silly grin. Bluestein, nicknamed 'Doctor' for the precision of his targeting, was as typical a Chenguk as one could hope to meet – solid blue, with large teeth and a single yellow eye. Chenguks tended to have a limited range of facial expressions, but once you could read their body language, they were very animated. The three of them had served together for years, and been through a lot of battles. Despite vastly different backgrounds, they were tight friends.

Dropping into a chair, Gary pulled one of the mugs close and took the doughnut out of his mouth to enjoy at a leisurely pace, mindful of powdered sugar by a black uniform. He flourished the pastry as he said,

"Hey, it's as beautiful and sunny a day as it can get on Tera Con Prime and I'm standby pilot all week. Plus, we've got that party tonight for Curabbe's promotion. Life doesn't get much better." He was two bites in when he finally took a good look at his gunner and wing man, and he choked down his mouthful to demand, "Who the heck happened to you? I hope she was worth it!"

Both his friends were worse for wear. Derek's jaw sported four scratches, the tender new flesh shiny with a layer of medgel. Bluestein's skin was mottled with fading green bruises. Both wore the hangdog look of men who had not come out on the winning end of a fight.

"We got in a dust-up with some of the spacers," said Bluestein, hedging.

Not fooled for a moment, Gary frowned. "Please. I can read the writing on your face, Derek. You taunted the Ventrexians, didn't you?"

"Maybe. A little."

"And you found out the hard way you need an electron microscope to detect their senses of humor." Despite his words and tone, Gary wasn't really upset. How could he be? His family had been at odds with one of the foremost Ventrexian families for two generations now. He shook his head. "Guys, I'm the one inheriting this war, not you."

Derek gave him a look like he was crazy to think they wouldn't take up this flag. They served his father, and therefore his family, with pride. "They walk around like they own the city, Gary! This is Infinity Guard turf. Our home. Our turf."

Overlooking the fact that Ventrexia was part of the empire, Gary gestured at their injuries with his half-eaten donut and said, "I told you not to mess with Avocato, and this is why. Ventrexians scratch. They bite. They have zero concept of losing. My dad's not here. Don't stir stuff up we can't finish."

"Funny you should mention Avocato," Derek said, suddenly cagey. He cast Bluestein a significant, side-eyed look.

"Why?" asked Gary, glancing between his friends, who were clearly up to something. "He's the ranking Ventrexian officer on Tera Con Prime right now." He put his mug down as a thought struck. "Don't tell me he's the one you guys were fighting with!"

"Maybe," Bluestein admitted, equally evasive. "You seem pretty agitated, Gary."

"Of course I am! Tell me you guys didn't start it."

"They started it just by coming here."

Gary shook his head as he took a mouthful of coffee. "The Lord Commander called Avocato in from the front lines a few days ago."

"Begs the question why he wants a teal hairball back here," mused Derek.

Quirking his eye ridge at Gary, Bluestein observed, "And suddenly you're keeping track of Avocato's schedule. Why do you care?"

He stared at them. "I gotta explain it? Because you can get in trouble for fighting! It's not allowed in the capitol."

"For getting caught fighting," corrected Derek.

"Okay," Gary allowed. "Semantics do matter. Take a point for that. So . . . were you? Caught?"

Bluestein smirked. "Would we be here if we had?"

"No. You'd be decorating the brig if you had been caught, so good job, guys! Don't do it again."

He saluted with his drink, and his curiosity got the better of him. "So how's Avocato in a fight?"

"You tell us," Bluestein replied.

"Huh? I've never fought him. Never even met him."

Derek leaned in towards toward his crony. "I don't think fighting is quite the verb you're looking for, Bluestein. Now, wrestling Avocato might be more like it."

Gary frowned as Bluestin wheezed a laugh, his confusion complete at the insinuation. "Wait - what are you guys talking about?"

"You."

"Me?"

"And Avocato . . . ?"

"Avocato?!"

Bluestein went in for the kill. "Courting in secret."

"And here I thought we were friends, Gar," teased Derek, thoroughly enjoying his wing commander's reaction.

He gaped in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Wh-what? Avocato? And me?" Gary demanded. "What? No!"

"We figured you'd say that," Bluestein said, lifting his mug. "Gotta maintain that cover. Secret courtship is secret and all. You can tell us. We don't squeal."

"I – no! No! There's nothing to tell! Seriously! Honest, I've never even talked to Avocato!"

"Uh-huh. You need to be more convincing than that, Goodspeed." It was Derek's turn to drop a bombshell. "The rumor throughout the whole city is that the two of you are secretly courting and one of you –you - is on the verge of asking the other –Avocato - to get married."

They could practically hear Gary's whole brain come crashing to a stop as he stared at his friends in speechless incredulity. It was like front row seats at a train wreck. For the better part of a minute he just sat there with his mouth agape and his eyes unblinking as he tried to process what was happening.

"There . . . what . . . who . . ."

"It's worse than we thought, Blue," said Derek.

Bluestein shook his head sadly. "He's got it bad. For a Ventrexian."

"I . . . I . . ."

"Have some standards, Gar."

"At least he's an officer and a noble," allowed Bluestein, "even if Avocato is an uptight prick."

"Who sheds."

Gary felt his face twitch. "I - no, I - I'm not asking Avocato to marry me!"

It burst out in a rush, louder than he meant. They stared at him in disbelief. Derek recovered first.

"So . . . Avocato's asking you?"

A wheeze leaked out of Gary's throat.

"You at least going to invite us to the wedding?"

A thunk! echoed off the table as he faceplanted, wrapping his hands around his head in a feeble attempt to hide from the world. Uncertain whether crying, screaming, or fainting would be the best course of action, Captain Gary Goodspeed was silent for a long span. Finally, he said the one phrase he never thought would pass his lips:

"I want my mom."

Chapter Text

"General Viro, what have you found out?"

"My Lord, sources have not been able to confirm or deny the rumor that Captain Gary Goodspeed is courting Captain Avocato. This information has only recently come to light, and if they are in a relationship, they have been extraordinarily discreet up to this point."

With a little harrumph of frustration, the Lord Commander sat back on his throne and brooded harder, glaring at Viro's one large eye as if the general was somehow to blame for every inconvenience he had to suffer. Why had he thought that hideous cyborg would be a good candidate for rooting out a possible romantic liaison?

He knew Viro wanted to discuss issues on the very fringes of the empire, a resurgency of piracy and slavers, rumors of unrest and rogue governments. In other words, nothing new. The Lord Commander would just do what he always did, and throw more generals and ships and troops at them than his enemies had and wipe them out. Simple, really. Not even worth discussing, because unlike developments here at the heart of the empire, they weren't an imminent threat.

Under normal circumstances, the relationships between the Lord Commander's officers were of no interest to him. In fact, the less he knew, the better. But these were anything but normal circumstances. The officers involved happened to belong to the two most powerful families in the empire. Both families had served the Lord Commander with troops and ships even longer than they had been at war with each other. The Catos and the Goodspeeds represented the two largest factions after the Tera Con empire's fleet. Each side had their own version of events of what had sparked this fierce generational war – petty insults and stolen glory and violent duels that had cascaded into pitched battles – but what mattered to the Lord Commander was that these two powerful blocs were too busy fighting each other to stand up to him. He didn't care if they pounded one another to dust all day, every day, so long as they set aside their differences when he needed them to work together. And they did, forever determined to outdo one another in terms of loyalty and performance.

But this . . . this was an unauthorized, unasked-for truce. It has sprung up of its own accord the moment word circulated of the courtship. Commanders on both sides supported it. Days had passed and the truce seemed to be expanding.

This could be dangerous.

Correction. This was dangerous. Combined, the Ventrexian fleet and the Infinity Guard – House Cato and Goodspeed loyalists to a fault - were a match for the Tera Con space fleet.

More than a match.

Unacceptable.

That a pair of hotheads like Avocato and the Goodspeed boy had managed to keep this under wraps long enough to reach the pending marriage stage was nothing short of remarkable and did not bode well. Avocato knew how to keep his mouth shut, but the Gary certainly did not. This had to be a serious and tight relationship if Goodspeed managed to keep it even from his busybody mother and her gossip-mongering friend. Avocato's parents, at least, had the decency to live on another planet. Viro was right. Extraordinarily discreet.

How had they met? Avocato's visits to Tera Con Prime were few and far between, and as a pilot in the Infinity Guard, the Goodspeed boy rarely left and always returned promptly after each mission. No gadding about, no delays, no side trips. There had been that fleet action at Pangist III last year . . . Sir John Goodspeed had brought a good number of his imperium cruisers to back up Ventrexia's General Cataloupe. Avocato's ship, the Silverwing, had been so heavily damaged in the battle that the Infinity Guard had towed it to the spacedocks at Jual Psi. The Lord Commander had invited John to join him for taquitos and beer when he returned so he could hear about the battle. The Captain of the Guard had a good laugh as he described Avocato's indignation not just at being towed, but being towed by the Infinity Guard. Cataloupe had been forced to issue a direct order to the overly-proud young officer to accept the help.

Had the Gary's and Avocato's paths crossed then? Had they been communicating in secret for over a year? These things mattered, because who knew what they were scheming as they fell in love. Were they in love? They certainly were in something together, even if it was just cahoots. The real problem was the lack of violence between the forces and retainers loyal to each family since this rumor had circulated. It had only been a few days, and already there was a noticeable difference in the attitudes of the citizens and soldiers here. Was it hope he sensed? Ugh. Peace within the Tera Con Empire was the last thing the Lord Commander desired. Even if they weren't courting, this lull in hostilities could give them ideas.

What else hadn't his general found out?

"Pull and analyze all the records and communications for Captain Lord Avocato and Captain Gary Goodspeed dating back to Pangist III. I want to know if there are any overlaps or direct communications between them."

Viro stared, managing to convey shock on an otherwise expressionless visage. All the records was a staggering amount, especially given how many forms of communication were available and how many inane messages young men sent. The Goodspeed son was a known chatterbox to boot. Knowing better than to question, the general managed to wheeze out, "Yes, Lord Commander."

"Recall Sir John Goodspeed. And send word to both captains. I want to see them tomorrow at noon. See to it yourself, General."

"Yes, my lord."

Chapter Text

"Mooooom!"

For all he'd gone to the best schools, was a decorated officer, and had been raised in a genteel household, poise and self-control in the midst of emotional upheaval had somehow eluded Gary Goodspeed over the years. He burst into the Goodspeed mansion and took the stairs two and three at a time, his long legs pumping up the entrance hall's grand staircase. He paused at the landing where the staircase split right and left, panting slightly.

"HUE!" he called, his inside voice forgotten. "HUE, where's my mom?"

The house's AI, ever calm, ever annoying, came back immediately. "No running in the house, Gary. You know better."

"I'm not nine, HUE!"

"No, you're twenty-four and you know better."

Gary glared at the chandelier, knowing HUE had numerous cameras hidden amidst the crystals. "My mother, HUE. Now."

"Lady Goodspeed is in her boudoir taking tea with Tribore."

"Tribore!" exclaimed Gary. "That makes total sense. I bet this is her fault!"

"His."

"His fault," corrected Gary. "Wait! Is it June already? Crap, it is. This is his fault!"

He took the stairs to the left, unconscious of the tasteful and luxurious surroundings. To Gary, this was just home. When he wasn't on duty, this was where he lived. Thick carpeting muffled his boots as he hurried down familiar passageways to his mother's sitting room, and once there, just as when he'd been little, he knocked on the door rather than use the bell or intercom.

"Mom!"

"Come on in, Gary," came Sheryl's voice over the intercom. She and John had long ago given up trying to break any lingering childhood habits, of which Gary had many, and just adapted. It was easier that way.

"The man himself," announced Tribore as Gary entered the bright and comfortable sitting area.

"Tribore, did you start that rumor about me?" demanded Gary, putting on his toughest face. He blew it a moment later as his inner child surfaced. "You have cookies? Can I have a cookie?"

"You don't have to ask, Captain," reminded Sheryl, handing off the plate with the remaining cookies.

"Much as I'd like to take credit for this one, I don't start rumors," Tribore said smugly, tossing back his scarf with a flair. He cast them a sly smile. "I just spread them."

"Good point," said Gary, recognizing the truth. Clutching the plate of cookies, he sank down on the sofa as Sheryl sent for more tea. "So . . . you guys heard, too?" He tried and failed to hide his unease by eating a cookie.

Sheryl smiled knowingly, reaching over to pat his arm. "It's okay to have secrets, Gary. You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to." Her look said otherwise, but having been a secret agent, she was remarkably good at extrapolating information from shreds of evidence.

"But there's nothing to tell! We're not a thing!"

"Who's not a thing?" pressed Tribore.

"Me and Avocato!"

"Uh-huh," said Sheryl, completely unconvinced. "Don't worry, Gar. It's a bit to get used to, and it will take us time, but your father and I have talked -"

"Dad knows?" asked Gary in a very small, very horrified voice. He'd just found out and his father already knew? In an act of self-preservation, he shoved a cookie in his mouth so he couldn't talk for a little while.

"- and we want you to know we love you and you have our full support even if you decided to fall in love with the most dastardly, worst poss–" Sheryl caught herself, cleared her throat, and quickly amended, "What I mean is, we just want what's best for you."

"Well, if it's the best, Avocato fits the bill nicely," added Tribore, shoveling fuel on the flames for all he was worth. Plainly, he was loving every moment of being front and center to the hottest news since the Tryvuulian ambassador's wife had an affair with General Urstu in order to blackmail him. "Noble blood, old money, good connections, and much as I know you hate the Catos, hot lady mama, you have to admit Avocato is one dashing specimen of a Ventrexian."

Gary chewed the cookie and considered Tribore's words and his mother's lack of argument. More tea and snacks arrived, brought by a SAMES, and to buy himself time to think, Gary poured fresh cups for everyone and added a few more cookies to his plate. Well. What did he know about Avocato? He was very young for a ship's captain – a year or two older and more accomplished than Gary. While nepotism might have helped him along, everyone knew Ventrexians did not tolerate bad leadership. Bad Ventrexian leaders very quickly developed illnesses that required early retirement from the military lest said illness rapidly become fatal. So. He was a capable leader. Also, Avocato had to be super smart because he was a captain of a starship and because he was known for kick-ass strategies that seemed to work every time. Okay, so he was a show-off, but at least he seemed to have earned that right. What else? An old family, very noble, intense, confident, and, according to the friend of a friend who met him once, arrogant and a total bore. He was also handsome as hell.

Wait – where did that come from?

Well, it was the truth. For someone fuzzy, Avocato was a looker. Even Gary could give him that much. That stern scowl might hide a total lack of personality, but if they were swimming in the shallow end of the dating pool and based on nothing but looks, Avocato was going for a perfect score. He was very tall for a Ventrexian, slim, graceful, and he employed what had to be the snappiest tailor this side of Hooblo because his uniforms fit like they were painted on. He also had a reputation as one of the foremost fighters in the empire. While Gary had never met him, he had seen Avocato from across the room a time or two and as his mother would say, Avocato was gentle on the eyes.

Thank the stars neither Derek nor Dr. Bluestein were empaths or telepaths, or they'd roast him for such a confession. Hell, he might just roast himself just because.

The question was, how did this courtship rumor start? Where had it started? Why and, most importantly, who started it? Certainly not Gary or anyone in his family. His family was small, though, and there were a hell of a lot of people out in the universe. It must be a Ventrexian ploy.

Gary started, derailing the handsome Ventrexian thought-train, and took another cookie as he realized his mother was still talking. He got to work on the pastry and gave his attention to Sheryl.

". . . ordered our troops to stand down for as long as the Catos did, since if you do intend to get married, Gary, it would be boorish and awkward to be seen fighting our almost-in-laws. The Ventrexians are holding their line at the Orm Nebula, but they haven't fired a shot for over a solar day and they're allowing our transports to access the Mandat Spaceport."

"Very sporting of them," prattled Tribore.

"John thought so, especially since they were running low on supplies, and morale was suffering. They needed the break and a chance to rest."

Definitely a Ventrexian trick. They were sneaky little furballs. What did they gain by ruining Gary's life?

"Have you researched Ventrexian wedding and mating rituals?" Tribore abruptly asked, turning to Gary. "I hear they're very particular and feral in all the best ways."

Gary inhaled crumbs and started choking at the suggestion. He wheezed for a moment, gulped the tea Sheryl handed him, and managed to gasp, "We are – this is not – I'm not courting Avocato! I don't even know him!"

"Too bad," Tribore replied. "You'd make a nice power couple, and everyone in the capitol can't wait to see what happens next."

"Much as I hate to say it, kiddo, he's right," agreed Sheryl wryly. "This is the first truce we've had with the Catos that lasted more than five minutes since . . . oh, before you were born. Your father says troop morale is soaring. I've got to admit, it's nice not having to worry for a moment. Well, at least, not about the Ventrexians."

"I bet a lot of mothers on Ventrexia are saying the same thing," agreed Tribore, who was himself a mother and therefore knew what he was about.

That gave Gary pause, and he sat with a cookie midway to his mouth for a long moment as he considered. The personal and highly charged I hate the Catos! aside, Tribore and his mother had a point. This truce was a good thing, and as the one poised to inherit this family feud, Gary was obligated to the people serving his father to do everything he could to preserve this peace, even if it meant getting married to a pompous, arrogant, holier-than-thou wannabe supermodel with a tail. He might not want to, but his wants weren't exactly important when the lives of thousands were at stake, including the lives of his friends. Gary tried to imagine life with a Ventrexian and finding teal hair all over his uniform. Ugh. He bit into the cookie.

Tribore rose to take his leave. "Well, it's been fabulous, as always my sweet, but I must get-"

Their tea was interrupted by a chime, and HUE said, "A courier from the Lord Commander, Lady Goodspeed. It's General Viro."

"-the dirt," finished Tribore, throwing himself back into his seat and snatching up his half-finished tea.

"Viro?" She frowned and cast her companions a warning look. "Send him up, HUE," said Sheryl, brushing non-existent crumbs off her lap and arranging herself just so on her sofa. Gary automatically set the plate down and moved to stand at his mother's side, hastily chewing and straightening his uniform as he went. Tribore lounged harder.

KVN, their insane service droid which they could neither destroy nor give away (Gary had tried repeatedly) appeared moments later, bobbing in the air before General Viro and pointing out the features of the crown molding, the carpet fringe, and other details the general absolutely did not care about. Viro was a strange-looking being, a cyborg of unknown race, built for battle and strength. He was strangely disproportionate, as if large chunks of his anatomy had been sacrificed to make him a cyborg. Long arms ended in clawed hands, a pot belly, rounded helmet, and weirdly jointed legs finished off the unappealing package. His burnished metal armor gleamed, making him look like some expensive and weirdly specialized kitchen appliance. His single eye, large and red and unreadable, took in the domestic scene in a swift, assessing look. He could not have been more out of place amidst the poufs and frills if he tried.

Lady Sheryl Goodspeed did nothing to alleviate his suffering at KVN's presence. If anything, she made him feel even more out of place. Reaching out a gracious hand, she almost purred, "General Viro! This is an unlooked-for pleasure. It's been far too long since you've visited us here in the manor. You know Tribore, of course, and Sir John's son, Gary. I was saying to Tribore just yesterday it's not fair of the Lord Commander to keep you so busy. I was so disappointed you couldn't make the ball Ambassador Barnt threw last week. I trust you're doing well and haven't overworked yourself too much."

She was laying it on with a trowel, Gary could see, but Sheryl knew what she was doing. Firing the first shot in the exchange gave her every advantage and forced Viro to match her tone when, in reality, he just wanted to deliver his message and escape with as few words and social graces as possible. Gary had to give it to his mom – not many people dared go head-to-head with the likes of the empire's top military officer, but she made it look effortless.

"Lady Goodspeed," Viro rasped, clearly ill at ease with the frivolities of etiquette and forcing himself not to bark orders. He bowed slightly over her hand. "The pleasure is mine."

"Tea? Cookies? Oil?" offered Sheryl. "We can have brunch if you have the time."

"Nothing, Lady. I cannot stay long. I'm here as a messenger."

Tribore perked up, not about to miss a word. If Viro was the messenger, this was Big News.

"The Lord Commander thought you would like to hear he has recalled Sir John from the front," Viro said, his voice and expression devoid of emotion. "He should be back in three days."

"I'm thrilled, of course, but John wasn't due back for a month. Is there a problem?" pressed Sheryl, knowing perfectly well the problem was blond, stuffed with cookies, and stood right beside her.

"I believe the Lord Commander is in the mood for taquitos," Viro replied with a degree of diplomacy few would have attributed to him.

"He's not alone," Sheryl said. "Thank you for coming so far to tell me in person. That's remarkably kind and thoughtful of you, General. Are you sure I can't offer you a refreshment?"

"I also have a message for Captain Goodspeed," said Viro, focusing his eye on Gary.

Gary stood a touch straighter with a crisp little, "Sir!"

"The Lord Commanders requires your presence tomorrow at noon, along with Captain Avocato. He wishes to speak with you together."

"Yes, sir," said Gary, though in his heart he was quailing. Sweet Grabthar's Hammer, did the Lord Commander know too? He must. What the hell? "I'll be there. Present. Noon. Tomorrow. Thank you, sir."

"I'll take my leave," said the general. With a final nod to Sheryl, he swept out of the room, his heavy, clawed feet muffled by the carpet and KVN's voice rambling again as he escorted the general out.

Staring at the door, Gary finally broke the tension and the silence. "Well, crap." He slumped where he stood.

"That was interesting," murmured Tribore.

"That was something," agreed Sheryl. She looked up at Gary, concerned. "Watch your step, kiddo. I'll have your dress uniform prepped."

"Thanks, Mom." Needing time to think, he took his leave and the cookies. He was almost at his room when KVN came zooming up.

"Hey, Gary, can I have a cookie?" he asked, taking one anyway.

"No. Put that back."

"But I'm your best friend!" wailed the robot.

"You're not my friend and the only thing you're best at is being annoying. Go away."

"Do you think the Lord Commander knows you're in love with Avocato?"

"No, and I'm not in love with Avocato! I'm at war with him, remember? Our families are at war. We have been for years."

"Isn't there a saying about that?" rambled KVN, crushing the perfectly good cookie to crumbs with his pincer and making a mess on the carpet. "Almost only counts in love and war?"

Gary let out an exasperated sigh and stepped around the hovering, evil beach ball. "Go throw yourself in the incinerator, KVN. That's an order."

"You sound like a man in love, Gary."

"You sound like you want my squad to use you for target practice, KVN."

"Hey! I found my infinity ball! It was in my butt. Want to go play-"

He slammed his bedroom door in KVN's face and locked it before letting his forehead bump on the wooden surface. If he ever found out who started that damned rumor about him and Avocato, he'd murder their face off.

Chapter Text

"If my mother is coming here, she knows," growled Avocato, waving his hand to indicate this ridiculous situation. "Damnit! Why does rumor travel at lightfold speeds?" He paced on the small patio, trying to work through the pain in his shin without limping. He failed.

Nikos sipped his coffee and watched Avocato do his best to wear a rut in the flagstone. With his injury and in bare feet, his captain couldn't get very far. "She may have been coming anyway," he said, trying to be reasonable.

Avocato made a face. "If she was, that means she's finally arranged a marriage for me."

"That might save you from the rumor mill!"

He shook his head. "She's been trying to marry me off for the past six years. She's on a mission."

"And still, you resist like it's a bad thing. You want to be married, Avocato. You said so yourself."

"I do," he admitted. "I just . . . hate her choices for me. All giggles and parties and flawless, plastic perfection. You have no idea how lucky you are to marry into a noble house." He paused and gave his friend a wry look. "You got the only perfect, non-plastic woman in the capitol."

As always, Nikos smiled at the mention of his wife. "You're right. She is perfect."

"Show off," grumbled Avocato, though there was no malice in it. A thought hit him. He paused, eyes wide with fresh alarm. "What if - what if my mother really thinks the rumor is serious and that - that humanoid trash is about to propose? Nikos, what will I do if she likes the idea? Or Goodspeed?"

When it was a question of battle and tactics and ruthlessness was called for, Avocato was without peer. When emotions and romance got dragged into it, he was a disaster with feet and a tail. Nikos set his coffee down and raised his hands to calm the savage beast.

"I've got your whole command crew, minus me, out looking for information right now. Give them a little more time and don't do anything stupid until they report in."

"Then do something stupid?" he asked desperately.

"Mmmmmaybe. We'll decide then."

They both started when the Hooblot housekeeper rang the chime, alerting them to her approach. A moment later, the plump, ever-cheerful, three-eyed Mrs. DeWinter peered into the garden.

"Captain," she said, handing him a padd, "you have a dispatch from General Cataloupe and caller at the door. A General Viro."

"Viro!" yelped Avocato. He frowned, turning on the message from Cataloupe. "What the hell could he want?"

"Oh, my," whispered Nikos with a grimace, not liking either development. "What does The Mustache say?"

Whatever you're doing, proceed with extreme caution, Captain, wrote Cataloupe after the usual greetings. Your father approves the results if not the party involved, as do all the troops.

What? His father approved? Was Cataloupe referencing this Goodspeed rumor? The Ventrexian fleet knew? And why was Viro here? He handed the padd off to his first officer, giving Nikos his chance to frown at Cataloupe's cryptic message right along with him. If nothing else, Avocato was capable of swiftly processing a lot of information and taking action, and he did so now. Grabbing Nikos' coffee, he shoved both cups into Mrs. DeWinter's hands.

"Hide these, then show General Viro in."

She had been with the Cato family too long to be disturbed by the antics of their youngest child. "Yes, sir. Will you need refreshments?"

"Doubtful. I'll call if we do."

She hurried away and they scrambled to straighten their uniforms. Nikos hid the military padd under a pillow on the lounge.

"What the hell can he want?" muttered Avocato. He despised Viro for a bloodthirsty thug, knowing full well Viro returned the favor for Avocato being a spoiled snot.

"Maybe whatever you were recall – Avocato! Your boots!"

"I – damnit!" He looked down at his bare feet, realizing he was out of uniform and time to remedy the problem. This would not do. He could not give Viro any ammunition.

"Um . . ." Nikos cast around the garden, then, hopping about to keep balanced, yanked off one boot, then the other. He had just pitched them into a bush and darted to Avocato's side when General Viro entered.

Tall and gleaming, the one-time mercenary and arena fighter looked completely out of place in the formal little garden as he returned their salutes. If he even noticed their bare feet, Viro gave no sign. Avocato noted the general's clawed feet with relief, and decided should their lack of footwear be commented upon, he could say it was a Ventrexian tradition to match a guest's appearance to make them feel comfortable. He was betting on Viro having no idea of details from a Ventrexian uniform, or even caring what they did or didn't wear.

Viro glanced around swiftly as if expecting something or someone to pop out at him, and Nikos and Avocato couldn't help but scan the surroundings as well. If he thought Ventrexians in bare feet was an odd sight, Viro kept it to himself.

"General Viro, you honor my family's house with your visit," said Avocato formally, careful to avoid saying he was honored when he wasn't.

"Captain Avocato," rasped Viro, ignoring Nikos' existence and getting right down to it. "You are summoned, with Captain Goodspeed, to the Lord Commander's presence at noon tomorrow. He wishes to speak to you together."

Avocato steeled himself not to react. The Lord Commander knew? Had this blasted rumored courtship somehow landed him in trouble? Well, if nothing else, he might get a few answers. At this point, details were so thin, he'd take anything he could get.

"Noon tomorrow, sir," he repeated. "I will be there."

"See that you are."

Avocato nodded, annoyed by the petty intimidation but betraying no emotion. "Sir."

Out Viro swept like the tide, his cape a swirl of color behind him. Nikos finally let out the breath he'd been holding and edged closer.

"That's it? The commander of the empire's fleet came here for two sentences and a passive-aggressive threat?"

Avocato stared at the archway where Viro had left. His sensitive ears caught the sound of Mrs. DeWinter bidding him a good day and the door closing. He let out a breath of his own. Good riddance.

But this was a case where the messenger was as important as the message. By sending Viro, the Lord Commander was essentially telling Avocato to obey or die. Why would he think Avocato might disobey in this case when he'd never done so in the past?

"The Lord Commander is worried," concluded Avocato softly, knowing he was right. "Maybe even afraid."

"Of a rumor?" asked Nikos in a whisper. He fished out the padd and handed it to Avocato.

He reread Cataloupe's despatch. "No. By the possibility of it being true."

One of the things he loved best about Nikos was that his friend knew what he was thinking almost all the time. One glance could speak volumes between them. He didn't need to explain what it could mean if two of the most powerful houses in the Tera Con Empire not only got along, but had cause to unite.

"Hmm. Perhaps you should fall in love with Captain Goodspeed."

Avocato would have glared, save that, Ventrexia help him, the same thought had already occurred to him. Not that he had any intention of falling in love with a primate or a sworn enemy, but he definitely needed to have words with his so-called romantic interest before the Lord Commander dug into them. For a long moment he just thought, while Nikos waited in anticipation for the call to action.

He sighed, looking down at his toes. "Get me a pair of dress boots. Then find out where Goodspeed is going to be tonight," he ordered, erasing Cataloupe's message. "Whatever he's doing, we're crashing it."

Chapter Text

Despite the anxieties tomorrow promised, Gary Goodspeed was in a mood to celebrate and he was determined to enjoy the evening. Curabb, Bluestein's gunner, was being promoted from half to full lieutenant. In true Infinity Guard tradition, that called for toasts, overeating, the occasional burst of song, and dancing until the bar threw them out, and getting the new full lieutenant so drunk he had to be carried out.

He squared his black-and-white uniform just so, liking what he saw in the mirror. Tall and slim, he had his mother's blond hair and his father's square jaw. The boyish grin was all his own, and he could not contain it as he looked down at the Infinity Guard pilot emblem on his chest and the Dragonhawk patch on his sleeve. He'd worked long and hard to reach the rank of captain, and as a flight commander, his squadron was the best one stationed here on Tera Con Prime. He had a good crew, a cool and loving family, and a fun evening of dancing and celebrating ahead. Life really couldn't get much better.

His gaze fell on his full dress uniform in the closet behind him. He hadn't closed the door – he never did, so when it was closed he knew the SAMES had been in to clean. Hanging in isolated glory to avoid any wrinkles or dust, his full dress uniform was similar to what he was now wearing, but with more bells and whistles and shinier boots and a short, trim jacket bearing the ribbons and one medal he'd earned. He turned the jacket to consider the medal, awarded to him for gallantry at Pangist III. He wondered – briefly – what sort of medals and ribbons Ventrexia's military awarded her soldiers, and how many Avocato had.

"Guess I'll find out tomorrow," Gary muttered, letting go of the uniform. For once, he closed the closet door. He didn't want to think about Avocato anymore. Not tonight. He wanted to party.

Once last glance in the mirror, and he smoothed his unruly hair down. Firing a finger gun at his image, he winked at himself and smirked. "Clk! Lady killer mode: engaged!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The party was rocking. They had a block of tables at the Launch Pad, which, while not the swankiest bar in the capitol, was close to the Infinity Guard base and very popular with the pilots and crews. It had a decently-sized dance floor and the DJ, a Galangi named Nod, played a range of music old and new. The drinks were good, the music wasn't too loud, the staff knew them all and were used to their antics, and the pilots mostly behaved themselves.

The Dragonhawks had turned out in force, flight and ground crew alike. Even some of the administrative and medical crew showed up. Any excuse to party. Curabb was hopelessly sloshed and singing at the crowded table, which had been the plan from the start. Considering how much alcohol you had to get into a Suia Carm to get them drunk, the pilots had made good time. Bluestein and Derek sat with him amidst the ground crew and the rest of the squadron, rocking and singing along to the song playing over the speakers, even though none of them knew the words.

Gary had already had his stint at babysitting Curabb and plying him with shots, matching him drink for drink for a while, all while being teased mercilessly about the courtship rumor. Tired of defending the truth, boring as it might be, he drew back from the party for some space, finding a quiet and dark corner where he could watch unseen for a few minutes. He'd definitely had too much to drink, but still was of a mind to dance. He scanned the bar's dance floor for a likely partner, always hoping Quinn would show up but knowing she wouldn't. The lights dimmed, meaning a slow song was about to start. Nod was nothing if not predictable as a popular love ballad that was sure to reduce Curabb to sniffling tears started playing. Gary spotted a pretty, orange-skinned Kachino by the bar, and plastering on his best you want this, baby face, he stepped off to ask her for a dance when a powerful hand clamped down on his wrist and yanked him around.

He slammed chest-to-chest with what felt like a wall of solid muscle and uniform buttons. He gaped, astonished, and found himself staring into smoldering yellow eyes set in a teal face.

"A-Avocato!"

The man himself. He was here, his face inches away from Gary's, in all his unmistakable glory. And goddamnit, but why did Tribore have to be right? Dashing? He was off the charts gorgeous, sharply tailored uniform and all. Gary found himself so fixated on that small, pink nose set against the white blaze running from between his ears to his chin, that he almost missed the scowl on the Ventrexian's face. A long tail lashed the air and he felt Avocato's free arm move to his back, effectively pinning Gary where he was.

"That's 'captain' to you," Avocato snapped softly, his glare intensifying and his impressive teeth on display. "We need to talk. Alone."

Well, he wasn't wrong. If Avocato wanted to talk, Gary would give the man what he wanted. With a deep voice that was like music to his ears, Avocato could talk all day and he would listen. But it was night now, and Gary was still in a dancing mood. Surrounded by his squadron and friends, he also had the upper hand. He cast Avocato a sly grin and said, "Bold of you. Kinda hot. I've got the perfect spot, Captain."

He twisted his wrist to seize Avocato's hand and slid his free arm around that narrow waist before he took a long step backwards, dragging Avocato onto the dance floor and taking the lead.

A collective gasp swept through the Launch Pad as together they stepped out of the shadowy corner and confirmed every rumor that had been circulating through the empire. People scrambled off the dance floor and lined the perimeter of it to gape. Save for the music, total silence fell as everyone stared in undisguised shock.

For one moment, just long enough for it to register with Gary's alcohol-addled mind, Avocato froze in place on the dance floor. It was like being held by a statue. It was as thrilling as it was intense. Gary's heart was pounding, and he smirked with pleasure as he waited to see what Avocato would do. It was like being in the heat of a dog fight, only more dangerous.

"Well, shit," came Derek's stunned voice, breaking the spell. A second later an excited buzz ran through the crowd and every comm unit with a recording device in the building was aimed right at them.

Gary had to give Avocato credit - after that initial shock, outside of the grip on Gary's hand tightening and a smoldering look, his partner seemed completely unfazed by this development and moved with him like they had been dancing together all their lives. He supposed that in a way, with their families at war, they had.

"So much for a secret courtship. This is your idea of alone?" criticized Avocato. Just short of violent, he shifted his hold, yanked them about right on the beat, and took the lead, maneuvering Gary back across the floor.

"We're here. Let's make the most of it. This is as alone as I plan on getting with you, Mr. Whiskers."

"Call me that again and I'll kill you," promised Avocato with a soft voice and a smile that showed all those sharp, sharp teeth.

"Sensitive!"

"Too well bred for childish name calling."

"But not too well bred to threaten me over it?" Gary challenged, laying on his best flirty expression.

"I'm a Ventrexian. Almost our entire culture is geared towards fighting. This little maneuver of yours already has me pissed off. Keep pushing if you want a lesson."

Gary smiled. It was a surprisingly spirited and enjoyable exchange. "I might take you up on that one of these days, but not tonight." Reaching behind, he peeled Avocato's arm off his waist, then twisted about so his back was to Avocato's chest and the Ventrexian's arms were wrapped snugly around him. He lay his head against the crook of Avocato's neck, closing his eyes and asking,

"Don't you like dancing?"

"I happen to love it – when it's not putting my life in danger the way this one is."

Gary scoffed in disbelief. "Rein it in there, cowboy. What did you want to talk about?"

A deep-throated grumble, as much vibration as sound, reached his ears. Avocato bent his head close and rocking to the music with him. A thrill trembled through Gary as he thought about those teeth right next to his neck. The danger of it had its own appeal. Avocato was so close, his lips brushed Gary's ear as he whispered,

"I don't know if it's occurred to you, Captain, but we are in a world of trouble. Whoever started this damned rumor is either suicidal or a genius." He spun Gary out a few steps, then pulled him in so they were facing one another. Gary was acutely aware of those hips right up against his. "I can't decide if they want me to kill them or they're planning on a coup."

"Those are some weirdly specific extremes. Ever think there might be some middle ground between?"

"It's possible we're being used as a distraction."

"I thought it might be you behind this, but . . ."

"It wasn't," snapped Avocato, tapping Gary's foot with his own to let him know he was about to get dipped. Playing the part of a lover to the hilt, Avocato lowered Gary in a long, sensuous move that was equal parts grace and provocation, his gaze never shifting from Gary's. Damn, but he was good, and willing to lay the romance on as thick as Gary was. Gary . . . actually didn't mind feeling those hands on him. Not like this, while they were dancing. A dip like this took a lot of trust, and in this instant, he trusted his dance partner. He knew Avocato did it to make it appear as if they'd been together for a while, had been dancing together from the start, had confidence in the other's strength and control. That, or he was showing off he was as good a dancer as Gary. They stopped talking for a moment, focused on the difficult move, staring at each other like no one was watching, and between them making the move look effortless.

"If I ever find out who did this, I will destroy them," swore Avocato, an intense look on his face as he set Gary back on his feet.

"I'm in. Save a piece for me." He stepped closer, full length right up against Avocato, and took the lead back. They were almost the same height, he noted with satisfaction, and they fit together quite nicely as they drifted in sync to the music and each other. Another slow song began. Clearly Nod was ready to drag this out all night. That was fine. The dance floor stayed empty, so Gary kept dancing. "I think word started here in the capitol pretty recently."

"Everyone seems to know. Even the Ventrexian fleet and probably my whole planet at this point."

"I hear ya, pal. Gossip travels fast here. I just found out this morning."

Avocato sighed. "Same."

"So what do you mean by a coup?"

"This is why I wanted to talk alone."

"Nothin' doin'." He let out a little snort and lay his arms over Avocato's shoulders, crossing his wrists behind the Ventrexian's neck and facing him with a fond smile. He did not resist the temptation to playfully run his fingers through the fur on the back of Avocato's head and neck. Surprisingly soft. He wondered if Ventrexians purred. They look like they should. "This is going to have to do."

"Fine."

Avocato's hands rose to hold Gary around the waist, letting his partner feel a sharp touch of his claws for a moment. Gary's smile widened. Spicy. But he stopped teasing the scruff. If he was getting shredded tonight, he wanted it to be from alcohol, not talons.

"If our family forces united under any banner, we'd be a threat to the Lord Commander," Avocato whispered tightly. "He'll never tolerate anything that would jeopardize his power and that's exactly what a marriage between the two of us would represent. This rumor has planted that seed."

"You're reading a hell of a lot into a rumor, Avocato."

"Am I? It's not a rumor anymore thanks to you dragging me out here. There's no way we can deny it now. Maybe you're not looking at the situation hard enough, Goodspeed, or maybe you're too comfortable where you are. I don't know about the Infinity Guard, but Ventrexia's forces are 100% behind a truce. And for Ventrexians to be tired of fighting, that's saying a lot. Cooperation between our parents over our supposed unsanctioned courtship could oust the Lord Commander. He knows it, our parents know it, the other factions in the empire know it, and our enemies know it. That might not be the intent of whoever is behind this mess, but I promise you, that's exactly how the Lord Commander's going to look at it. How can you not see that? He'll see the two of us dead before he allows peace between our families."

Gary laughed, his humor genuine. "What? No!" He moved back, moved in, and spun Avocato around, amused at such paranoia. "Uncle Jack would never. I've known him all my life. He and my dad are best buds. Heck, he called Dad back here just to get taquitos."

Avocato paused, stepping away a bit and dropping Gary's hands. He stared at Gary not as part of the facade they were presenting, but out of incredulity. "Do you actually believe that?"

Did he? Or did he just not want to admit another possibility? Hearing it out loud kinda made sense, but . . . it just seemed blown all out of proportion. That had been the mother of all info dumps. There was too much to process right now, especially after more than his daily recommended dose of alcohol, but it was all just a stupid rumor that made for an awkward situation. Wasn't it? He needed to think. To weigh what Avocato had said. To talk to his mother and maybe even his father - wait, no. Jack, the Lord Commander, was his father's best friend. Sir John would never listen to ill about him. Avocato had to be overreacting, blowing everything out of proportion. He was . . .

But what had Tribore said? You'd make a nice power couple. He stood still, looking back at Avocato. Beneath those good looks and intensity and intelligence, there was a young man desperate to be believed. It was almost as if . . .

The question escaped his lips before he could consider the entirety of the situation, but he was completely sober and serious. "Are you afraid, Captain?"

Avocato frowned, shaking his head. Then he leaned in, and Gary could feel the brush of his warm breath on his cheek as he challenged, "The question is, why aren't you?"

Then he strode away off the dance floor without looking back. A dozen or so Ventrexians, unnoticed until now, broke free of the crowd and followed their captain. One of them deliberately bumped Gary as he passed, then paused to look back. Gary had to look down to see who accosted him so. The commander was short even for a Ventrexian, with dark points against creamy fur and blue, blue eyes that gave Gary a look of absolute death. Gary knew he was being judged - harshly - and he did not measure up.

And in that moment, for some inexplicable reason, he cared.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Can I assume that didn't go according to plan?"

"Not even slightly."

"An interesting take on proceeding with extreme caution, Avocato."

"Not my idea." A faint growl escaped Avocato. "He dragged me out there before I could stop him. It would have looked worse if I put up a fight."

"I suppose. So?" pressed Nikos, jogging to catch up with his captain. It wasn't difficult; Avocato was moving at a crawl.

Avocato's shin was burning and he struggled not to limp in the new boots. He shook his head. "I don't know if I got through to him. He seems pretty married to his beliefs."

"Not to mention inebriated. There's no going back from that display," Nikos said. He gestured at one of the officers with them. "If you weren't before, you are officially courting now. Or you'd better be. Fann says it's already on the news feeds." He shrugged, completely unimpressed with Captain Goodspeed. "If nothing else, you two dance well together."

A sigh that was not quite a gasp of pain escaped Avocato. Nikos waved at him to stop walking, then ordered one of the officers to bring the transport to them. They were silent until the vehicle pulled up, and Nikos hastened to open the door and help him inside.

"With any luck, maybe he'll actually think about what I said before tomorrow," said Avocato, sliding over to make room for his crew. He leaned back into the cushioned seat and closed his eyes, trying not to think of smooth skin and gold hair and a laugh like music. Nikos was right – if nothing else, the captain could dance.

A little snort escaped his first officer. "Goodspeed will have all the time he needs. The rest of his friends will be too indisposed to bother him."

He cracked his eyes open a slit to give Nikos a look. "You spiked their drinks."

Completely unrepentant, confident Avocato wouldn't care, Nikos shrugged. "They turned their backs on a Ventrexian."

Chapter Text

Not having to report anywhere until noon, Gary slept in the next day. Or, at least he tried to.

He had crawled home soon after Avocato had left him on the dance floor, suddenly desperate to escape prying eyes. He'd stripped down and flopped face-first into bed, but sleep didn't come instantly as expected. Oh, no. His mind replayed Avocato over and over again. And he couldn't even focus on what had been said. Gary's so-called brain zeroed in on the little details, like the press of buttons into his chest, and the feel of a skilled dancer responding to his every motion. Grinding against him. Or, okay, him grinding against Avocato. Strong arms. Deep voice. Goddamnit, Tribore.

The first disturbance was outside his door at some ungodly hour of the morning. HUE and KVN were going at it – something about markers and mustache wish fulfillment – and he heard his door lock. Gary sighed in relief, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

The next interruption was his comm unit pinging with so many messages it sounded like an alarm. Normally it was on silence until his usual, non-workday wake up time of 8 am. He'd forgotten to shut it off last night. Natural, non-stop communicator that he was, Gary loved a good ping and getting messages. This was excessive, however, and he frowned at the device, wondering if it was busted. He frowned harder when he realized quite a few calls were on his squadron's channel. It looked as if everyone but him was out sick. That was weird even if they had gone out with the intent of getting wasted. How late had they been out drinking? The major was going to kill them all, Gary included. Gary, at least, was safe until after he met with the Lord Commander. He threw the comm unit across the room, hugged his pillow close, and went back to sleep.

Not ten minutes later, a beautiful light doze had just claimed him when the door chimed.

"Gary," Sheryl called. "You want to get up."

"Not really, Mom," he whined, his voice muffled by pillows and blankets.

"It wasn't a question, Captain," she replied. "Up! Breakfast in half an hour. Get a move on!"

He moaned. He groaned. He got up. He showered. He put on the uniform he'd dropped the night before because it was the first thing he saw. He took it off, turned it right side out, and put it back on. Pulled on his boots. Combed his hair. Nothing helped. Everything ached, especially his head.

Funny enough, though, the ache wasn't exclusively from alcohol. It encompassed everything that had happened, including what amounted to a homework assignment from Avocato to rethink damn near everything he believed.

Half an hour later (give or take), he found his mother taking breakfast in the solarium. As he dropped into his seat, Sheryl gestured for a servant to pour him coffee. It wasn't until he'd swallowed a few gulps that he realized they had company.

"Professor Van Newton!" exclaimed Gary, finally waking up enough to form sentences. He laughed with pleasure to see his old tutor. Van Newton had changed little from the last time Gary had seen him - still gray haired, beard game going strong, eyebrows out of control, with a ready smile and a few new wrinkles around the edges, and that crazed gleam in his eyes. "How are you? What brings you here?"

"I'm well, thank you, Gary. I understand congratulations are almost in order," said Van Newton. Gary was not caffeinated enough to catch the mischievous tone.

"What?" he asked, then realized. "What, you mean the whole Avocato thing? No, no, that's just a stupid rumor that got started. It's not –"

"HUE, give us a newsfeed," interrupted Sheryl, though it was uncharacteristic of her to do. "Any one will do."

"News – what?"

A 3-D image, almost life size, was projected close to the table, and Gary was treated to a front row seat for last night's dance fever. The clip was just in time to show Avocato dipping him. A flush started at his toes and made its way all the way to the part in his hair as he watched. From his vantage point in Avocato's arms, Gary hadn't had a chance to appreciate the sheet grace of the man. His intent had been to throw Avocato off balance, but as it happened, the reverse had occurred. Gary had not expected such a skilled, adaptable partner, and to his critical eye, their form was spot-on. From this angle, the looks on both their faces was really easy to misinterpret as desire, which was exactly what the freaking squad of newscasters did as they picked apart and analyzed every aspect and move.

A tiny, little, "Ohhhhh," of pain and realization escaped him. He slumped in his seat.

HUE flashed through dozens of different news feeds. All of them seemed to be speculating on Gary's love life.

"As of eight o'clock Tera Con Prime time, there has been sixty hours total of vid coverage, seventy-four articles published, plus two hundred and sixty-eight additional fanfictions and innumerable pictures and fanart posted to social media and fan sites."

"Additional?" gaped Gary.

The AI made a scoffing sound, as if this should be obvious, and Gary knew he was being judged. "As soon as the rumor broke, the fanfic started. GaryCato is trending, with most pings attributed to the Infinity Guard."

Those skunks. "Please tell me I'm in an alcohol-induced coma," he begged.

"I had to wade through three ranks of reporters to get in," commented Van Newton, passing Gary the toast.

"Dancing Mania has asked you to guest star," added HUE.

"Is it too late to hide under the table?"

"Gary," said Sheryl, setting her coffee down. "If you aren't courting, how do you explain this?"

He peeked back at the image. His arms draped around Avocato's neck, playfully stroking his fur above that high collar. This was . . . oh, crap. This was not what he had intended. He had wanted to tease Avocato, not put on a show for the GaryCato fandom. Dancing that close, that well together, like they'd been at it for ages, with those flirty looks and soft words . . . this was a scandal brewing . . . boiling over . . . exploding.

If he and Avocato weren't courting before this, they sure as hell had to get on it ASAP. Avocato was right – there was no going back.

"I . . ."

The channel jumped to a different news team and a different clip - Gary twisting so he was held snugly in Avocato's embrace, and Avocato bending his head close. He knew better, but it looked a hell – a hell of a lot like Avocato kissed him. On the neck. In public.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Sure, it was sexy hot as all get out, but oh, crap.

"Gary . . ."

His heart rate was rocketing. He done screwed up. Stepped in it up to his knees. "I . . . it's not . . . Avocato and I are . . .n't . . ."

The news clip showed the dip again, from a different angle than before. Avocato's hands on him seemed so confident, so familiar, so . . . gentle. Gary didn't want to look away.

"Kiddo," Sheryl said, "this has been all over the news since last night. There are people with signs at the front gates. The capitol is going nuts. Half of them want to hang you, the other half wants to throw you a parade. Every news outlet in the sector has called at least twice for interviews. Your commanding officer called me to tell you to get this sorted fast. You and Avocato just became the single hottest item in the empire. Everyone wants to see what happens next." She shook her head. "What were you thinking?"

I wanted to dance, thought Gary with a pang. Aloud he said, "Avocato found us at the bar. He wanted to talk alone. I didn't want to get separated from my crew, so . . . I see how it looks now, Mom."

Like no one existed for Avocato but Gary Goodspeed.

Craaaaaaap.

Pressed Sheryl, "Sure there's nothing you want to tell me, Gar?"

The image shifted to show him wrapped in Avocato's arms, making Gary wish there was something he wanted to tell her.

"Sure, Mom," he said faintly, wondering how Avocato was handling this.

"So, what were you talking about?"

Straight for the jugular. His mom, Lady Sheryl Goodspeed, folks. He knew by her tone that his answer hadn't convinced her, but she wouldn't press with guests and a busy day ahead. Gary buttered a muffin to give him something to focus on besides that steely-eyed gaze hitting him from across the table. "He's trying to figure out who started the rumor."

"It wasn't him?" wondered Van Newton, ever shrewd.

"According to Avocato, no. In fact," he said, deciding to gloss over all talk of a coup and overthrowing the emperor until he had a much better handle on things, "he wants to kill whoever did start it."

His teacher smiled. "What do you think?"

"I think he's a hell of a good dancer," Gary replied, and bit into the muffin.

Chapter Text

Sheryl left them once breakfast was over and they started talking about insects. Much as she supported her son's interests, she had no desire to listen to the excited ramblings of two enthusiasts going full throttle. She'd seen it before and knew perfectly well it was a ploy to drive her away so they could talk freely, but she let it work rather than endure gushing about antennae and thoraxes and exoskeletons.

Once they were alone with the coffee pot and what was left of the fruit salad, Van Newton spent a moment looking off to the side, as if listening to someone not there. Used to the old man's eccentricities, Gary waited and picked the strawberries and avocados out of his salad to eat first.

"So your mother asked me over because she thought you might need to talk after last night, Gary," the professor abruptly said, focusing bright blue eyes on him. "I take it events have rather gotten away from you?"

He sighed, slumping in a very un-noble-officer-esque way. He suddenly felt rather trapped by the situation. "You could say that. I mean, some rumor about me and family enemy numero uno being an item crops up, and suddenly everybody wants a say in something that doesn't exist."

One of those wild eyebrows lifted, saying more than words.

"Okay, didn't exist until I screwed up last night."

Fortunately, Van Newton was well acquainted with Gary's though processes and understood exactly what he meant. "So, there's nothing between you two?"

"Last night was the first time I even met Avocato."

"Quite a first impression all around, I'd say. Why dance?"

"He wanted to talk, I wanted to dance."

"And the cocktails told you it was a good idea."

"My wing man's gunner got a promotion. We were celebrating. Avocato crashed the party."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Ah."

"What else did our young friend want to talk about?"

Gary hesitated, but he trusted Van Newton, and owed him a great deal. Sure he was a bit of a crackpot and the universe had him to blame for the existence of Satan's beach ball, aka the KVN Units, Professor Van Newton was also the first and only teacher Gary had who had taken the time to figure out how Gary learned, and channeled all his lessons in that direction. If young Gary learned maths by adding millipede legs or figured out percentages by how much of a leaf one ant could eat, then that was how the professor taught him. If Gary was too excited about a new toy or entertainment vid or video game to focus on school work, Van Newton found a way to incorporate the interest into the lesson and thus get his student to follow with enthusiasm. The results had paid off, because Gary went from struggling to get through school to doing well enough to get into the Imperial Academy on his own merits.

In the absence of Sir John, the professor was Gary's first choice as a stand-in for fatherly advice.

With a quick glance around, Gary quietly said, "HUE, privacy lock on this room until we leave."

HUE didn't acknowledge the order - he couldn't, since he'd already locked himself and all other electronic and mechanical devices in the solarium. A chime would alert them if anyone approached from any direction.

"Avocato's scared," Gary admitted softly, leaning closer. "He thinks we're in danger."

"A wise young man," Van Newton said, casually pouring them more coffee. "You are in danger. More than you seem to realize."

"It's just a rumor, Professor!"

Van Newton shook his head. His voice was pitched just as when he wanted Gary to pay attention to something particularly complex or important. "It's a lot more than that, Gary. More than you're seeing, especially after last night. It's a possibility of peace."

"But . . ."

"The two most powerful families in service to the Lord Commander are endlessly squabbling over . . . what? What can you or House Cato possibly win in this war of yours?"

"It's . . ."

What was it? What did they want? The Catos out? What good would that do since they could not spare the Ventrexian fleet and if House Cato was vanquished or Ventrexia destroyed, there would go a huge chunk of the Tera Con Empire's fighting capability. They might be devious furballs, but even Gary had to give it to them - Ventrexians knew how to fight, and they were really, really good at it. But why fight? It wasn't as if either side needed territory or trade routes or resources. Suddenly, his family cause seemed so pointless, really.

". . . a habit," he finished in a small voice, realizing.

"Your family warring with the Catos is a form of peace, but only for the Lord Commander. Why do you think it's gone on for so long?"

Another light bulb went on in Gary's head. It was getting pretty bright in there. Stuffy, too. His mother would rap his hand for this, but he leaned his elbows on the table and inched closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Because it benefits him to keep us at each other's throats, doesn't it? Neither side can make a move if we're always fighting. Things were almost settled a few times between my dad and Lord Catomar, but something always happened, and things flared up again. Avocato said if we ever united our families, we'd be a threat to the Lord Commander, and he would sooner see us dead than allow that."

"A wise young man," Van Newton repeated sagely, saluting with his cup.

Was Avocato right? He seemed to think Gary was insane for trusting the Lord Commander, for putting any faith into ties of friendship. The Lord Commander - Jack - was a good friend to John Goodspeed, but didn't hesitate to throw his friend to the front lines, and made no effort to stop fighting on any front. If he would sacrifice John, he'd sacrifice Gary. And Avocato. And countless other Infinity Guard and Ventrexians and anyone else caught in the crossfire. And for what? The empire was huge and powerful, rich, fairly secure, and lacking nothing but peace within its own borders. Until this moment, it had never occurred to Gary that this war could just stop.

Would it be so bad not to have to defend his people, his faction, his family, from fellow citizens of the empire? What if he and Avocato actually gave life together a shot? What would happen? What could happen?

Civil war. Not just between two families, but among every faction in the empire. Sides would be chosen. The Tera Con Empire would shatter.

No wonder Avocato was afraid.

How far would the Lord Commander go to stop them?

"Yeah," Gary said thoughtfully, his mind going at lightfold speeds. "Yeah, he is."

"You've lived all your life at the heart of an empire. You haven't seen the territories beyond this system. Here, all is calm and clean. There's wealth and prosperity. If you go out much further than Hooblo, however, things are not so ordered. Skirmishes, pirates, even slavery can be found. Avocato has seen it, which is why he has a more cynical view of the empire than you." The old man smiled and mimicked Gary's pose. "Gary, whether you realize it or not, whether you want it or not, you and Avocato have become the embodiment of hope across the empire. You're both in a precarious and powerful position, with many important decisions ahead of you that will have far-reaching consequences for a lot of people beyond your two families. You have to decide if you're going to follow orders or your heart."

Gary was silent for a long time, pondering all these revelations and what they meant for him and the universe at large. "Professor . . . why didn't you ever tell me any of this before?"

Kind and gentle blue eyes regarded him fondly. "Because, my boy," Van Newton said, reaching out to give Gary's hand a pat, "some truths need to be discovered for yourself, or they're not truths."

Chapter Text

"Avocato?"

Silence.

"Avocato!"

"Mmmm?"

Nikos had two steaming hot coffees in hand, both for his captain. He stood next to Avocato's bed, looking anxious as he nudged the mattress. Avocato was little more than a long lump of pillows and blankets with just the tip of his tail showing.

"I have coffee."

"Mmmm."

"And pain killers."

That got a reaction. Avocato stirred, rolling over and shoving the blankets off his face to blink up at his first officer.

"You look awful. Bad night?"

"How could I possibly have a good one?" rasped Avocato, yawning.

"Fair." He held out one of the cups. "Sit up. Drink this. I can't promise you'll feel better, but at least you'll have coffee in you."

Avocato did as directed, letting out a long breath. He felt terrible. His head and leg both ached, he was famished, and he'd slept very poorly. The coffee, at least, was hot and delicious. He drank it quickly before Nikos swapped it out for the full cup and a handful of pills for Avocato to wrestle down.

"I asked Mrs. DeWinter to make you some breakfast. She'll set it on the patio." Schooled by years of habit, Nikos delivered a full report. "It's half nine in the morning. Your full dress uniform is prepped and ready for your appointment. I contacted Goodspeed's commanding officer about the general's order to appear with Goodspeed. The captain has called for transport, but Major Eevik has arranged for the driver to pick you up on the way to the Goodspeed estate. The transport will be here in an hour fifteen. I'll be on standby in your family's transport to pick you up after."

"Thank you," mumbled Avocato. He handed over the cup of coffee before he gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and set his feet on the soft carpet. He hissed as his injured leg was jarred slightly. Damn the Infinity Guard! He reached both hands out to rub the painful spot.

Even though they were alone, Nikos still leaned close and lowered his voice. "I have to warn you, Cato. Last night's . . . show has generated a lot of attention."

Nikos' tone betrayed his nervousness. Years of practice and exposure enabled Avocato to read volumes into his best friend's agitated state. Avocato stilled, then looked up, waiting for the ax to fall.

"What kind of attention?" he demanded.

Bracing himself, Nikos said, "Media attention. All of it. As in, every news feed running footage of you and Captain Goodspeed on the dance floor." He finished with a wince.

Avocato stared, hardly comprehending the implications. For a Ventrexian noble, few things were worse than having one's name picked up by the news, especially anything that smacked of scandal. They were a class who prided themselves on discretion and understated achievements. Even Nikos, who was a noble only by virtue of having married the daughter of a great lord and being adopted into her house, shared this sentiment. Being in the  cross-hairs of some bottom dwelling gossip columnist was the equivalent of torture, and seeing one's name printed in a tabloid was a fate worse than death.

"What?" he asked in a dead voice.

Nikos hesitated. "And . . . apparently you and the captain have something of a fan following."

"A what?"

"Fans," squeaked Nikos. "They've dubbed your relationship GaryCato and . . ."

"What?"

"There's fanfic."

Avocato knew his mouth was hanging open, but he lacked the strength and focus to close it. He looked away, shock settling upon him like a weight, and finally looked back at Nikos. His friend wore a grimace, knowing full well what this sort of thing cost Avocato. Reaching over, Avocato took the two cups of coffee from Nikos' hands and set them on the nightstand. Then he passed him one of the pillows off the bed.

"Here. I'm going to lay down again. As soon as I'm asleep, I want you to take this pillow and smother me."

Nikos whapped him over the head with it instead."I'll do no such thing, Avocato!"

"I thought you were my friend."

"Your mother would never forgive me if I did."

"I'll never forgive you if you don't," he countered. And for the briefest moment, he meant it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

An hour before noon, a military transport with tinted windows pulled up to the service entrance at the rear of the Goodspeed estate.

Gary had called ahead, letting his commanding officer know he'd been summoned by the Lord Commander. Since this was official business, the transport was authorized, but not before the major gave Gary an earful about the ruckus he was causing by existing. Gary couldn't blame it. The whole situation was out of the blue, and now half of the Dragonhawk Squadron was out of commission.

His mother met him at the rear door to see him off. Lady Sheryl made a show of adjusting his uniform jacket before softly saying, "Keep in mind it's the Lord Commander who summoned you, kiddo, not Uncle Jack. You can't rely on old friendship here. This is business."

He forced a smile and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Got it, Mom."

"This side, sir," said the driver as Gary exited from the mansion's kitchen. He directed Gary to the far side of the vehicle and held the door for him. A touch confused, Gary nonetheless complied without comment and piled in, automatically settling into the seat and securing the safety belt before looking up.

Avocato sat next to him.

A little yelp of surprise escaped Gary. Avocato took a slow, deep breath before turning to glare at him. The teal Ventrexian was resplendent in his full-dress uniform, complete with rows of shiny buttons and a chestful of medals. Show off.

"Done?" asked Avocato.

Just to be annoying, Gary let out an extra squeak, then said, "Am now. What are you doing in my ride?"

"I was instructed to report with you," Avocato said, sounding supremely unhappy about it.

"Lucky you," said Gary, realizing he hadn't interpreted Viro's instructions quite so literally. Well, this could be a test, so kudos to Avocato for saving the Goodspeed bacon. "Ready to stand around waiting for hours?"

Avocato went back to staring straight ahead. "Yes."

"Been through this before too, huh?"

"Yes."

The transport started moving, its ride smooth and soundless. Luckily, the press couldn't access the back way into the mansion.

"So . . . I was thinking about last night." Gary leaned into the padded seat, imitating Avocato's posture.

"While you were sober or drunk?"

Ouch. "Mmm . . . both."

His disgust was evident. "The dance or the conversation?"

"Both, actually, and the company."

"Got any more stunts like last night's to pull?"

Double-plus ouch. Actually contrite, Gary said, "Okay. Not the smartest move I ever made. I admit it."

"I shudder to think what constitutes a 'smart move,' then."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I wasn't taking this seriously enough. I've been corrected."

Avocato waited in silence, seemingly confident Gary would rattle on. He was right.

"I don't agree 100% with everything you said, but you do have some good points. So, now that we're in this situation, how do we get out? Can we get out?" He looked at that elegant profile and hesitated a split second before asking, "Do we even want to get out?"

Avocato raised his hand for Gary to wait a moment. Pushing his uniform sleeve up slightly, he activated a device on his arm.

"What's that?" asked Gary.

"Privacy shield. Ventrexian tech. No one will be able to eavesdrop on us," said Avocato, smoothing his sleeve again.

"Huh. A mobile privacy lock. Cool," said Gary, choosing not to mention Avocato had clearly anticipated this exact conversation happening. At this point, their ride would definitely be bugged, by their nosy superiors if not the Lord Commander. Gary got to business, knowing their time was limited since it wasn't a long drive. "You said last night that Ventrexia's fleet was all for peace in our time and all that. The Infinity Guard is loving it, too. The question is, do we – you and me – want to make us a thing to keep it going?"

"Do you even understand the entirety of the situation?"

"I understand as much information as I've got to work with, same as you, but we should still compare notes. There are a lot of gaps. What I don't have is who started this or why."

"Me either," said Avocato with a snarl.

"Should we tell the Lord Commander the truth? That it really is just a rumor?"

"Do you really think he'll believe us after last night's show and this truce that's broken out?"

Gary ran a hand through his hair, realizing that thanks to his impulsive actions, they couldn't backpedal. "No. No. Last night's on me. There are way too many lives on the line to stop now."

"Agreed. Much as I hate the situation, we'd be fools to waste this momentum. I don't know about you, but I have a lot of family and friends in service to House Cato and the Tera Con Empire. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them alive and safe."

"More friends than family for me, but . . . yeah. Okay. So, for the sake of our troops and their families and everyone else who gets caught in our crossfire, we present as an item. We need a cover story because the Lord Commander is definitely going to want to know details."

Avocato closed his eyes with a sigh, gritting his teeth as he asked, "Were you at Pangist III last year?"

"Yeah." He thought it best not to mention his father's stories about Avocato's ship being towed to the spacedocks and how funny the Infinity Guard found the situation. It was an understandably sore point for the Ventrexian, and they had more important fish to fry. Besides, Avocato had claws.

"We met there, in the shipyard at Jual Psi, after the battle."

It was a good choice. The Dragonhawks had docked there to refuel and for crew rest. The shipyard's security wouldn't keep any video recordings for more than a month, so there would be no evidence to confirm or deny them meeting.

"Didn't recognize one another under the sexy battle damage. Hit it off. Met for a drink."

"And realized after the fact who the other was, but emotionally we were both too committed and decided to give it a shot. Possible consequences were not considered until later."

"Which is why we kept it secret, even from our besties. We hardly get to see each other and communicate . . . how?"

"Multi-relay via private beacon. It's a different frequency for each use, so it's untraceable. We haven't discussed where this might end up going. How serious are we?"

"Dude," Gary said, trying to break the news gently, "rumor has it we're courting. That's huge in my circles. Like, I'm about to ask you to marry me courting."

"Please don't," begged Avocato.

"Have we had sex?"

Avocato looked horrified and ready to gnaw his own leg off to escape the very notion. "Goddess Ventrexia, no! We haven't had the chance. We are never getting the chance! Ever!"

There was no resisting the temptation to tease. "But given the chance . . . "

"Another word and you die here and now, Goodspeed."

Gary chuckled and rubbed the back of his head and neck, pulling a few faces as he forced himself not to say anything more. If anyone asked, he was totally going to say they had wild sex the night through that they met and woke up the next morning sleeping with the enemy. It was so much spicier and romantic than Avocato's vanilla pudding version of events. "We're pretty far in the deep end already, pal. When's your birthday?"

"July 8th, via the Tera Con Prime calendar," snapped Avocato, slowly lowering his hackles. "You?"

"June 11th."

"So I scheduled the refit of the Silverwing to be here close to your birthday. Great."

"Suck all the sarcasm out of the room, why don'tcha? Last night was you keeping your promise to take me dancing for my birthday, capishe? Best friend?"

"Nikos, my first officer. Yours?"

"Derek, my gunner, and Bluestein, my wing man."

"Do you play thimbles?"

"Badly. You?"

"Ventrexian Senior Elite Champion for singles and teams."

"Of course. I absolutely cannot wait to see you play."

"Favorite thing to eat?"

"Cookies. How do you like your steak?"

"Rare. What's your favorite music?"

"Anything by Kenny Loggins. What do you collect?"

"Weapons, and I like to garden."

"Really? Huh. Wouldn't have pegged you for the planty type. Any pets?"

"Not since I was a child."

"Same. I had a caterpillar named Mooncake. He was cool. Are we scared to meet one another's parents?"

Avocato favored him with a dark look and said in a voice as flat as a plane, "Terrified."

"Don't blame ya. My mom can be scary," agreed Gary, realizing it was quite true in every way possible. "Okay. Basic cover story: check. We'll have to improvise the rest and back each other up no matter how stupid. But . . . you were right, Avocato. We do need to talk. Alone," he added, glancing at the driver through the darkened screen separating them from the front of the vehicle.

"Once we're done with the audience, we'll find somewhere private and figure out a plan of action."

"We could-"

"No dancing."

"Spoilsport."

Chapter Text

After half an hour of standing in the grand hall leading to the throne room - Goodspeed had not been exaggerating that they'd be waiting for hours for the Lord Commander to get around to them - Avocato got fed up with the stares and pointing fingers and whispers and nosy questions, and requested (well, ordered, really) that he and Goodspeed be given a private waiting room. So many visitors and employees were jamming the hall just to gape at them that the chamberlain readily agreed, and so they found themselves shuffled off to a small, comfortable parlor just off the main hall. The quiet was welcome, but the tea service eventually sent up told them they weren't going anywhere soon. They were doomed to share company all day.

Goodspeed being Goodspeed, he could not remain silent or still. That left Avocato fulfilling multiple roles of captive audience, sounding board, and victim. Given how his day had started, Avocato was not in the best of moods. His leg was throbbing beneath his knee-high boots, and he would not admit that he could hardly walk. After last night’s exertions, he was in a world of pain and all he wanted was to sleep. The last thing he needed was having to contend with his companion's wellspring of verve, but here he was, stuck in place with a chatterbox. At least the loveseat was soft and there was a footstool for his leg.

If only humans came with volume control.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Avocato wondered after what felt like an hour of mindless blather.

"Not if I can help it. We could talk now-"

"No, we could not," Avocato insisted through clenched teeth, giving him a pointed look.

"Okay." Goodspeed glanced about, seeming to realize the room was monitored, probably pretty closely with them in it, and using the privacy shield would be too obvious. Seeing as how this was a waiting room to see the emperor, careful monitoring actually made a lot of sense. Goodspeed cast about for something to occupy himself and spotted the tea service. Pouring for each of them, he made Avocato a cup with sugar and just a touch of milk. It was probably how he liked because he prepared both cups the same. Balancing cups and saucers and cookies ("Oh, our chef makes waaaay better cookies!") he handed the serving off to Avocato, who frowned automatically. Then he settled in right next to Avocato and propped his booted feet on the footstool as well.

Avocato stared at the tea, taking a deep breath to keep from lashing out or surging off the couch to escape being in such close proximity to anyone, let alone a human. This human. He forcibly reminded himself they were supposedly in love. They had to act it. This was not inappropriate for appearance's sake regardless of how unwelcome it was to have an enemy almost in his lap. He was not going to let Goodspeed be better at this play-acting than him.

"I made it just how you like it," said Goodspeed.

Avocato feigned a small smile, forced himself to sip his tea, and blinked in surprise. He absolutely did not lie when he said, "Thank you. It's perfect."

Going for the cookie first, Goodspeed smiled and sought a neutral topic. "So, how's the refit on your ship going? Are you getting the L-7 upgrade to her drop drive this go-around?"

He seized upon the lifeline, surprised at how casual Goodspeed managed to sound.

"We got the L-7 last year, after Pangist III. She's in for new turret guns and a rail cannon."

"Sweet. Our fighters are slated for the F-class L-7's in a few months. Looking forward to it. So far we've had nice results in the simulators."

"My engineers find they take a bit more calibration than the L-6, but the tradeoff is quicker engagement, a 4% speed increase, and fuel consumption dropped by 8%."

"Holy hand grenades, that's awesome!"

So it went. Their conversation started gradually, a careful give and take as they sought to present a familiar and devoted front. They were skilled enough at small talk to avoid seeming stilted to any casual observer. Slowly, they meandered through topics, letting the discussion flow while avoiding anything too intimate or that could be mistaken as seditious. Both young men learned a great deal about the other at the same time. If Goodspeed learned that Avocato could say volumes with just a handful of words, and his body language said as much, if not more, than his spoken words, Avocato learned that when Gary Goodspeed loved a topic, he loved it fully. And stars, this man could talk.

Avocato had mentioned moving the three potted plants he maintained on the Silverwing to his family's apartment until he was deployed again, and his concern that they might pick up some native pests. Talk of insects set Goodspeed off on a tangent, and Avocato was about to shut the topic down when it dawned on him that this was the perfect cover. If they were supposedly on the verge of a betrothal, Avocato would let Goodspeed ramble on about something he obsessed over. Instead of changing the topic, Avocato settled in with his cup of tea, nodding and humming and prompting at the appropriate points to keep his companion going and to make it look as if he hung on every word. Anyone listening in would have been bored into a coma, and Avocato came close. It wasn't so much that the topic of insects was boring as hell (it was), but that Goodspeed's cadence and tone were surprisingly soothing to Ventrexian ears. Or, at least, Avocato's ears, and he was quickly lulled into a comfortable stupor.

He opened his eyes when he realized it had been silent for a while. Gary Goodspeed was sitting watching him and smiling smugly.

"Good nap?"

"Wasn't asleep," he muttered, not sure if it was true. He finished his tea. It was long cold.

"Yeah, right. You needed a recharge. You have been pretty cranky. Want some more tea? The pot’s still warm."

He glared, but Goodspeed wasn't wrong. Avocato hadn't slept at all well last night, being too nervous about this summons. Deliberately reaching right across Avocato to pick up his teacup, Goodspeed just grinned wider until he let out a little chuckle. It was as pleasant a sound as when they'd danced. As he watched Goodspeed rise and fuss over the tea service, it occurred to Avocato in all these years of being at war with this man's family that he had never considered what Gary Goodspeed was like as a person. He'd known Goodspeed was a decent pilot, a wing commander, and a popular figure here on Tera Con Prime. Those were just facts. But the person?

He was flippant. Charming. Inane. Annoying. Hyper focused on odd things. Handsome for a human, even in those silly Infinity Guard pajamas. The full-dress uniform was striking, at least, and he wore it well, with confidence and just a touch of swagger. He took responsibility for this mess he'd caused. He wanted to do what was right even if he didn't know what that was.

He seemed, in short, a good person. Better than Avocato wanted to admit even to himself.

It was surprising.

So, what did Goodspeed see when he looked at Avocato?

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Captain Avocato? Captain Goodspeed? The Lord Commander will see you now."

Over four hours after they'd arrived, the chamberlain entered the waiting room to find the two young men seated together and critiquing a thimbles match projected by a portable holo-vid on a comm unit. Palace security, under strict orders to watch these two closely, had already informed her that their conduct had been that of any nervous young couple. She had swiftly reviewed the recordings and agreed with security's assessment. Their conversation had been extremely general except for when the Goodspeed boy got on the topic of insects. At that point, he had talked passionately for over an hour until Avocato fell into a doze for a little while. Afterwards, they started bickering about thimbles while watching a game on Avocato's comm unit. In other words, they had played things very, very safely.

They hastily shut down the entertainment and rose. Avocato seemed to have trouble with his leg. He hid a grimace as he paused to stretch a bit. The chamberlain watched Goodspeed give his fellow captain a look that could only be described as anxious.

"Y'okay?" he pressed softly. He reached out, then hesitated and dropped his hand.

Avocato nodded, stranding tall and schooling his expression. "I'm fine."

"Good.” Goodspeed held both hands out to him. “C'mon - command readiness check! Get your gig line in order, Captain!"

In typical military fashion, they each took a moment to get their own uniforms squared just so before giving one another a swift inspection.

"Fix your hair," ordered Avocato.

"Right. Thanks." Goodspeed ran his fingers through his hair in a hasty attempt at neatness and made it worse. Avocato impatiently waved his efforts aside and, with a wicked little smirk, unsheathed his claws. Goodspeed froze in place, eyes wide, but a few quick swipes of Avocato's claws and the unruly mop was under control without so much as a flinch or a peep out of the human.

"Presentable?" he asked.

"As you can be," Avocato replied, producing a laugh out of Goodspeed.

"Hold still a sec," said Goodspeed, reaching for Avocato. The Ventrexian drew up shortly but made no protest as his epaulets were adjusted and a blond hair removed from his shoulder. "Not today, demerits. There. Looking sharp, Captain." He stepped back and pulled out a pair of spotless white gloves to match his uniform, making a show of pulling them on. "Where are yours?"

Avocato lifted a hand, splaying his fingers and showing off those claws again. "You can't do this with gloves on. Ventrexians don't wear them except for space or extreme environments."

"I knew that," Goodspeed mumbled sheepishly. He paused and looked squarely at Avocato. "Ready?"

"As I can be."

Goodspeed smiled at Avocato’s dry response.

"This way, captains," said the chamberlain.

In silence, they followed her to the entrance of the throne room. The guard there opened the door, rescanned them to be sure they were unarmed, and they were ushered inside. The chamberlain was still as the huge doors swung soundlessly closed, waiting a moment before General Viro joined her from down the hall.

"Did they arrive together?" he demanded without preamble.

"They did, General, though the driver reported he picked them up separately."

"Well?"

"I'm not familiar enough with Ventrexian non-verbal communication to come to a conclusion. I can't tell if the relationship is real or faked, sir. Their conversation centered on military service, plants, insects and thimbles. Nothing overtly romantic was discussed. At one point Captain Goodspeed's conversation seemed to put Captain Avocato to sleep."

Painfully familiar with Goodspeed's tendency to ramble on endlessly after scouring reams of communiques, Viro could actually sympathize with Avocato's response. "What was Goodspeed's reaction?"

"He seemed pleased, General. He laughed and said Captain Avocato needed the rest."

A little rumble escaped Viro.

"They give every appearance of knowing one another and getting along well. They sat together the whole time and freely touched one another and their clothing. They have been conversing, bickering, teasing, and showing concern."

"For what?" demanded Viro, his one eye intent upon her.

"It's possible Captain Avocato has a leg injury. He kept his foot propped up the whole time he was in here and he had difficulty moving when I came for them. Captain Goodspeed appeared concerned but didn't press."

Everything he had found out so far pointed to these two actually being in love and in a courtship. It was not what he wanted to hear. Viro made a note to check Avocato's medical records, then gave his attention back to the chamberlain as she finished her report.

"If they are in a relationship, sir, they have been extraordinarily discreet. Until last night."

Resisting the temptation to sigh at hearing his own assessment echoed back at him, Viro silently damned these two officers for causing such a crisis and such a headache on his watch.

Chapter Text

John Goodspeed had, on more than one occasion, told his son that fear was not a bad thing. So long as you control it and it doesn't control you, he said. Fear warns you of danger and keeps you sharp.

If that was the case, Gary was so sharp he was in danger of cutting himself right now. His mother's cautions replayed on a loop in his mind along with Professor Van Newton's council and Avocato asking him why he wasn't afraid. Well, he sure as hell was now. Terrified, in fact. This actually felt worse than going into battle. At least in battle, he knew the variables and had some control over the outcome. In battle, the worst that could happen was he could be killed.

Here, a dispute between families could cascade into civil war.

The throne room was stupid big, poorly lit, always cold, and echoed like a cave. Why the Lord Commander had gone for this underground bunker aesthetic when he could have quite literally had anything else in creation had confused Gary from the first time he'd stepped foot in here. His earliest memory of this room was thinking it was a dungeon, not a throne room. His father had once told him the whole room was carved from living stone – essentially, the chamber was one tremendous, solid hunk of rock. Because of this, as a child, Gary had assumed the Lord Commander was a troll. He ticked all the boxes – small, green, creepy, and he hung out in underground caverns. As an adult, Gary was starting to think that maybe eight-year-old him was on to something.

"Lord Avocato, captain of the Imperial Ventrexian Starcruiser Silverwing, and Captain Gary Goodspeed, wing commander of the Infinity Guard striker force team Dragonhawks," boomed a loud voice. So loud, it was almost hard to hear. Beside him, from the corner of his eye, he saw Avocato's ears twitch back in discomfort. With his rosy glasses off, Gary wondered if the volume had been set expressly for that purpose. That, and intimidation. Not that they were easily intimidated, but the fact that it was done at all was galling. Way to make your retainers feel welcome.

It was a long walk to the throne, and Gary knew how a bug on a plate felt. Avocato's boots clicked on each step across the stone floor - the only sound after they had been announced. Gary felt his tension increase with each step, each evenly placed click, and he forced himself to keep step and keep from fidgeting. Sheryl was right. This was business. This was a summons to the Lord Commander, not visiting Uncle Jack. Gary realized he'd never been so alone before the Lord Commander in his life. Normally he'd have his parents or his squadron or superior officers around him to absorb some of the cranky looks. All he had for backup was a guy he'd been taught to hate all his life, but he was discovering it was pretty hard to despise anyone who danced so well. He mentally lined up his hate for Avocato against his hate for KVN and immediately realized there was no contest. The Catos barely toggled the meter, whereas Satan's beach ball shot right into the red.

Gary knew he did not hold on to hate well. He never really saw the point. It was more like going through the motions for him, really. Having met and interacted (okay, danced) with Avocato, he was questioning the whole point of this conflict. He wondered if his mom and dad felt the same. Yes, the Goodspeeds were at war, but . . . they didn't want to be. That was clear by how the Infinity Guard had embraced this truce so readily. They wanted to back out, but just didn't know how.

Until now.

He slid his glance over to his Ventrexian companion. Fighting might be the bread and butter of Ventrexian culture, but, Gary realized, so too was dancing and sports and nurturing gardens. They were people, in other words, just like countless other cultures across the empire and the galaxy. Sure, they liked a dust up more than most, but so what? Ventrexians liked fighting, humans liked beer, Chenguks like saltwater baths, Hooblots liked elevator music. Everyone had their thing. They wanted peace, too. Avocato wanted peace. The fact that he'd met Gary halfway with this half-baked plan to convince the Lord Commander they were in love spoke volumes, but they really had to be out of their minds to think this would work. Was it desperation or hope?

". . . whether you realize it or not, whether you want it or not, you and Avocato have become the embodiment of hope across the empire . . ."

A small shift beside him, and a twinge crossed Avocato's face, gone as soon as it appeared. He started as if he'd received a shock, but never broke his stride. So, he was hurting. Damn. Gary drew a breath, not sure what he wanted to say or do, when Avocato shot a quick, side-eyed look at him that shut down any and all comments. Gary backed off instantly. Yeah, this guy was definitely the captain of a starcruiser. They didn't issue those killer glares to just anyone. And this wasn't the time or place for weakness. They needed every last shred of manly stoicism and strength they had. Tough. Inscrutable. Unshakable. In contro-

He tripped, seemingly over nothing but his own feet. Instantly a powerful hand steadied him. He gave Avocato a grateful smile. "Oops."

"Careful," was the entirety of Avocato's soft response.

Gary nodded, catching the nuances of Avocato's meaning. The Ventrexian held on a little too long, a little too tight, only releasing his grip when Gary took a step. Why was it reassuring to know Avocato was just as scared as he was right now? They finished the walk to the throne without incident or comment, and together they bowed to the Lord Commander, each in the fashion of their home planet.

Showtime.

"Well, well," said the Lord Commander, his voice falsely pleasant. "How nice to see the sons of my two most powerful retainers getting along so well. Welcome, Lord Avocato. Welcome, the Gary."

Still bent, Avocato blinked in confusion at the Lord Commander's notion of Gary's name. Gary mentally screamed for the Ventrexian to keep his mouth shut. Since the day he was born, the Lord Commander had slapped 'the' before Gary's name and as Sheryl so succinctly put it, You don't correct an emperor. John had laughed and told Gary not everyone was gifted with a nickname by the Lord Commander, so it was a special distinction. It wasn't until he was in his teens that Gary figured out no, it wasn't special, it was stupid.

"It's an honor to see you, my lord," Avocato said smoothly, and Gary sighed in relief.

"Rise."

They straightened and looked at the emperor, child-sized and egg-headed. Close by the throne stood a one of the Order of the Twelve, and Gary felt sweat break out on his neck at the sight. The Order members were freaky weird on a good day - skeletal and pale and otherworldly, with blank, featureless faces and a ring of detached 'eyes' hovering around their heads. One of those eyes came zooming over to look first at Gary, then Avocato.

"Ah!" she said, and Gary vaguely recalled her name was Hula, and she was a big cheese in the Order and one of the Lord Commander's advisors. She spoke in a breathless coo, as if she'd just run a race and had found something adorable waiting for her at the finish line. "The little lovers."

She smiled, and her expression was so vapid and sinister at once that Gary had to battle the instinct to run away screaming.

A small hand was waved at the secretaries and courtiers and officials clustered close by. "Leave us!" barked the Lord Commander. He looked up at the being beside him. "You as well, High Helper."

Fluidly, she bowed to him, unruffled by the dismissal, then turned her empty visage to Gary and Avocato to give them another creepy smile. Her high-pitched voice was very soft. "They are frightened, as is fitting, Lord Commander, but they are true."

Then she rose, noiselessly gliding away to a door behind the throne. When everyone had exited the room, the Lord Commander said, "I'm sorry you had to wait so long, but . . . pressing matters."

Pressing matters more than likely meant his favorite soap opera was on, or he wanted to give his security team more time to observe them in the waiting room. No matter. Gary couldn't think of anything they'd done that was inappropriate. A private session with the emperor, however, did not bode well. Seated on his elevated throne, the Lord Commander gazed upon them with what was presumably his interpretation of a benevolent smile, but all Gary saw now was sharp, interlocking teeth.

"I'll cut to the heart of the matter, Captains, and why I summoned you here. Rumors spreading throughout the empire say that you two, sons of warring houses, are courting. Is this true?"

This was it. Do or die - possibly literally. If they were committing to this plan, this was the time. Gary swallowed, wishing that for just one moment he could link minds with Avocato and know what the Ventrexian was thinking. He glanced at Avocato for reassurance and got a slow blink in reply which Gary chose to interpret as permission.

"Yes, Lord Commander," he said. "It is. We are. Courting. Each other."

He bit his tongue, seeing no other way to shut himself up.

A weighty silence followed. Neither officer dared twitch so much as a tail.

"In any other case, I would offer congratulations," the Lord Commander finally said. His voice was devoid of inflection, and he spoke slowly. "These circumstances are unusual and politically charged, and the repercussions of a betrothal may very well be felt throughout the empire. Well?" he demanded when they did not respond.

Avocato answered first. "We are not unaware of the impact our relationship could have, my lord-"

"And yet you selfishly chose to pursue it," snapped the Lord Commander, his eyes flashing.

"We are very much committed, Lord Commander," continued Avocato, sounding abashed at being called selfish for falling in love. "We were preparing to tell our parents in order to figure out the best course forward when, somehow, we were betrayed, and word got out."

"Whom did you tell about this . . . liaison?"

"No one, my lord. No one at all. Until this week, we kept it entirely secret. Neither of us was willing to endanger family or friend, or put them in a position where they would have to question their loyalties."

"What about your loyalties?"

Avocato looked at Gary with such an expression of devotion that Gary's knees actually went a little weak, and had this been for realsies, he would have totally fallen for the Ventrexian in that moment.

Avocato answered for them both. "We agreed from the start duty came before love."

Gary nodded in agreement. Then, refusing to let Avocato shoulder all the wrath, he interjected, "But it's not all bad! The consequences, I mean. I mean, look what happened when people found out! Peace broke out! Like, all over the place. For the first time in my lifetime - or Avocato's - our families aren't trying wipe each other off the map. We can finally have peace throughout the empire! Isn't that one of the coolest things ever?"

Sure, he was laying on the golly-gee-whiz pretty thickly, but given their situation, Gary felt it appropriate. He wasn't surprised when all he got for his efforts was a glower from a troll.

"I find it difficult to believe this situation wasn't calculated, given all the possible repercussions," the Lord Commander said. Perhaps because of his friendship with Sir John or greater familiarity with the Infinity Guard than the Ventrexian Star Force, but Avocato seemed to be the focus of his pissy intensity. "You're just lucky that this was the result, not something drastic. When did you meet?"

"A little over a year ago, following the battle at Pangist III," said Avocato, still composed.

Gary picked up the story. "I saw him struggling with some high-power cabling in the spacedock and gave him a hand getting them into the repair unit for delivery. We got to talking, got in the way, got hollered at by the dockmaster, and decided to meet up for a drink."

Pale yellow eyes narrowed sharply upon them. "And you didn't recognize each other?"

"I was in a borrowed space suit from the Ventrexian flagship Sabertooth," Avocato said, and it wasn't a lie. "Mine was damaged during the battle, and no one on my crew is tall enough that I could use theirs. Infinity Guard spacesuits don't have name plates."

"But he was clearly Infinity Guard," insisted the Lord Commander, seemingly bent on preserving the animosity between his forces.

"Who chose to help a Ventrexian," Avocato replied, his voice even. Gary had to hand it to him; Avocato was a cool, cool cat. "I couldn't ignore a kindness."

"Hmph." The Lord Commander's expression darkened as he turned his attention to Gary. "Why would you help a Ventrexian?"

This display of prejudice against his own retainers was shocking. Gary opted to take the high road.

"I helped a fellow member of the Tera Con military who needed a hand. The Ventrexian fleet took a pounding at Pangist III. He looked pretty tired and frustrated, and the last thing this guy needed was some rando being a jerk to him because of where we're from." He deliberately lightened his tone, even smiling a bit as the Lord Commander scowled. "We didn't figure out who we were until after we'd ordered drinks. It seemed a shame to cancel once we did. I mean, sure, it was a dive bar, but, oh, man! They serve a mean alcoholic beverage in a glass. We started talking and, well, I haven't stopped since."

"That I can believe," muttered the Lord Commander.

Gary recklessly plunged onward. "Turns out we have a lot more in common than we thought."

"Like what?" squeaked the Lord Commander in disbelief.

His brain froze into a solid lump. Oh, god, what had he done? What DID he and Avocato have in common?

"Uh, well, I like pink and Avocato has a pink nose. And we - we both like to dance. Like, a lot."

The Lord Commander stared.

Avocato, level-headed and articulate, saved Gary's bacon.

"We have similar upbringings, my lord, and military educations. We were both pilots at a relatively young age and love flying. And yes, we both love to dance. We play strategy games such as shadowblockers and thimbles -"

"Don't forget poker," Gary interjected, teasingly. He had played shadowblockers about three times in his life and had been slaughtered each round. But, still, he had played it, so Avocato wasn't lying.

Avocato smiled as if at a private joke, and even though he had no idea what poker was, added, "-and poker. While our hobbies are divergent, they are complimentary."

"Oh?"

"I like gardening. Gary has a wealth of knowledge of the local insects."

"Hmm." That little green face was bland in its expression, but Gary wasn't fooled. "It's my understanding Ventrexians don't take spouses outside of your own species."

"As a general rule, we don't," acknowledged Avocato. "There are exceptions, of course, and occasional arranged marriages to seal treaties. Inter-species relationships are gradually becoming more common and accepted, especially among military personnel since we're away from Ventrexia on extended deployments."

"Your parents haven't approved this match?"

Gary felt a twinge of alarm. They had already mentioned not telling their parents yet. Clearly, the Lord Commander was trying to trip them up.

Avocato was of a like mind, because they both spoke at once, talking over one another in their haste. "No, sire." "No, my lord."

"We haven't had a chance to speak to them about it," Avocato said. "We haven't seen each other in months, so we haven't had the time to sit down and discuss it between ourselves first."

"And what of last night's little public display of affection?"

"That's on me," Gary said immediately, raising a hand as if this was a schoolroom. Sheepishly he explained, "It's my birthday next week, and Avocato said we'd dance. With all the stress of word of us getting out and being so happy to see him, I kinda lost my head."

It might be a weak excuse, but Gary doing something silly and impulsive was not out of character in any way. He knew that about himself and was prepared to exploit that fact. It was impossible to tell if their story was convincing enough to do the trick.

The Lord Commander sank back into his throne, staring and glaring. "For the sake of the empire, I cannot sanction any engagement between House Cato and the Goodspeeds until I have spoken to your parents and learn their intents."

Gary slumped, and a moment later Avocato's tail noticeably drooped. They exchanged a look of disappointment, and Gary managed a feeble, almost-smile he hoped looked reassuring.

Avocato carefully said, "My lady mother has sent me word, my lord. She'll be here on Tera Con Prime next week."

"My father will be here before the end of the week, sire," added Gary.

"I know," he said to Gary. A moment later his expression darkened as he looked towards Avocato. "Very well. Inform your parents I will be summoning them and you together. In the meantime . . . no more antics. I expect that until the matter is decided among wiser heads than yours, there will be no more wild stories in the news feeds or rumors spreading through the empire. Dismissed."

They bowed, and had just turned to leave when the Lord Commander called,

"The Gary! One last question."

There was false innocence in that tone, and the Lord Commander was pretending to have just remembered what he wanted to know. Another trap. Great. How many could they avoid at this rate?

Gary turned and waited respectfully, trying not to feel too impaled by the piercing look he was receiving. "Lord Commander."

"Tell me . . . what is your pet name for Captain Lord Avocato?"

Oh, crap. Oh, crap, he was definitely trying to trip them up and shame them both. That was a tactic that would only work if Gary let it. He glanced at Avocato and smiled, trying to hide his panic and blush as he replied,

"Um . . . Mr. Whiskers."

Avocato froze. For a beat, there was no response out of their inquisitor and then they were graced with another frowny face, and the Lord Commander looked at Avocato to double check.

"What?" he demanded in disbelief. "Avocato doesn't have whiskers."

"It was initially meant ironically, my lord," said Avocato, sounding sufficiently embarrassed. "It stuck."

A little noise of disgust rose, and then, "And what do you call the Gary?"

Avocato was ready for it. He cast Gary another one of those knee-weakening looks as he said,

"Baby."

"Uck. I can feel the cavities forming," grumbled the Lord Commander, looking sorry he'd asked. "Get out. I'll see you when your parents arrive."

They bowed and fled.

Chapter Text

"Not here," whispered Avocato when Gary leaned close to talk.

With a quick nod, Goodspeed fell into step beside Avocato as they exited the throne room. The chamber seemed even bigger than before and Avocato's boots echoed off the walls. Back in the entrance hall, they took a moment to compose themselves before Avocato asked the chamberlain for an alternate route to leave the palace.

Irritated at the question, she gestured at the main entrance, a grand and elegant space crowded with visitors and servants and people of all sorts.

"The visitor entrance is there."

Avocato scowled, knowing full well reporters hovered there at all hours and knowing word of their visit had long since gotten out. The main entrance would be teeming with news crews. That was a beast Avocato was not inclined to feed even without the Lord Commander's order.

"We need a way to leave unobserved."

"The visitor entrance is there," she repeated slowly, as if he was an idiot, an accompanied her words with a smirk.

Goodspeed stepped back as Avocato moved in for the kill. Drawing himself up to his full height, Avocato took command of the situation and got right in the chamberlain's face, bearing down on her with all the force of a pissed off apex predator looking for his next meal.

"I will remind you that we are guests of the Lord Commander and sons of his primary retainers. We have been ordered by the Lord Commander himself to avoid any additional appearances in the news feeds. If we step outside those doors, the palace entrance will be overrun. I will make it abundantly clear that his servant is incapable of either fulfilling a simple request on my part or the express instructions of the Lord Commander. Now do your job, chamberlain, or find me someone who can."

Beside him, Goodspeed crossed his arms over his chest and added the weight of his displeasure to crushing the chamberlain. A quick glance to the side and Avocato had to suppress a little smirk of his own at the hearty glare on that boyish face. Still, the son of the Captain of the Guard was the wrong person to cross, and she knew it. A footman was summoned, and after a final glare and growl, they were escorted several floors down to a private entrance. Avocato made a call, and within a few minutes, Nikos arrived. They waited inside the palace until Nikos had the transport door open, then darted inside the vehicle.

"Well?" asked Nikos from the driver's seat.

"Brutal," said Avocato, and Goodspeed hummed in agreement.

"Did you think you convinced him?"

"It's hard to tell." He turned his glare at Goodspeed. "Really?"

"Sorry, dude, but it was the first thing that came to mind," he stammered. "I . . . didn't notice you don't have whiskers."

Avocato sighed and let his head fall back.

"Why don't you?" wondered Goodspeed, looking closer. He only sat back when Avocato glared again. "Nikos does."

"Genetics," he grumbled, refusing to delve any deeper.

"Well," Goodspeed reasoned, "if either name gets out, we might be closer to pinpointing the source of the rumor."

"You think the Lord Commander started it?"

"The only one I'm absolutely certain didn't start that rumor is me. Everyone else is suspect."

"Good attitude." He sighed again and asked, "So what's poker?"

"A card game. I'll teach you."

"Not tonight. Nikos, the Order of the Twelve are involved."

A sound of disgust emanated from the front of the vehicle.

"That was High Helper Hula," Goodspeed said. "She's the leader of the Order. Cult. Whatever they are. Members are ranked by how many of those gross floating eye thingys they can juggle at once. My dad can't stand her. Or any of them, really. They're . . . twisted."

"They definitely have their own agenda."

"Could she have started the rumor?" asked Nikos.

Goodspeed considered. "Hard to say. No one really knows what their goals are. They call themselves the eyes of the universe, but who knows what they're watching for?"

"Or whom," added Avocato. Gritting his teeth in anticipation, he leaned over, and with a grunt of pain, released the closures on his boot. "Ah!"

"Pain killers, medication, and drinks are in the side panel, Avocato," said Nikos. "Take them now or I'm telling your mother."

Goodspeed opened the panel beside him and found the items listed. He handed the bottles over and watched as Avocato took the medications. He needed them badly enough that he didn't even grumble.

"What happened?" Goodspeed asked softly.

"Your gunner," Nikos snapped, twisting to give Goodspeed his best worst look. "Stun blast at point-blank range. So very honorable."

"Nikos . . ."

With a growl, Nikos paid attention to their route. Goodspeed, meanwhile, looked stricken.

"I knew they got in a dust-up, but I didn't know you got shot, Avocato. I'm sorry," he said, genuinely contrite.

"You shoul-"

"Nikos." Avocato leaned back into the passenger seat, plainly weary and not in the mood for arguments. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain killers to take effect. For a few glorious minutes, Goodspeed managed to be quiet.

"Where are we going?" he finally asked, peering out the window. "Is this the spaceport?"

"We're going to the Silverwing," Avocato replied. "We need somewhere we can talk in private."

"Ah. Good thinking."

"I'm sure you're hungry, so I called ahead," said Nikos, sounding as if all choice was stripped away and they were now hungry whether they liked it or not. "The cook is preparing dinner. She thinks it's for you and me, but I told her no spicy food because of your medication."

Eyes still closed, Avocato chuckled.

"What's so funny about spicy food?" wondered Goodspeed.

"Ventrexian levels of spiciness would probably land you in the hospital," said Avocato. "And Nikos' levels would kill you." There was a pause, and then Avocato said in his best command voice, "Don't even think about it, Commander."

"Hmph," Nikos returned. "So what's the upshot, Captain?"

"He's clearly threatened at just the notion of our families uniting," said Avocato.

"It's been a while since I've seen him," Goodspeed added. "And I've never been alone with him before. Not that he's ever been a bundle of joy to hang out with, but he seemed on edge. I'd say he's spooked. And has he always been so biased against you or Ventrexians? He was giving you the death glare."

"I'm an easier target than you in this case," said Avocato, finally opening his eyes to look at the human beside him. "He's not best friends with my father, for starters, and I've only been in his presence a handful of times, unlike you."

"So . . ."

"Something bad's going to happen to me before it happens to you."

Goodspeed opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but seemed for once to have no words. He settled for gnawing his lower lip and looking thoroughly displeased and uncomfortable. The truth was undeniable. Here, at the heart of Tera Con Prime, seat of the Lord Commander's power, Avocato was far more vulnerable than the only son of the Captain of the Guard. Avocato couldn't help but press the issue.

"A week ago, you would have celebrated the Lord Commander eliminating me."

"Well, now it's now, not last week," snapped Goodspeed, folding his arms. "A lot has changed. I don't want to end you or House Cato. I want to end this damned war. It's stupid and . . . and we're being used by the Lord Commander."

"My father knows that," Avocato said softly, glad that Goodspeed recognized as much. "Does yours?"

Goodspeed shook his head. "I hope. I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet. But if he doesn't know it, he will."

"Sir John is no fool," Avocato allowed. And even though he knew he was right, he still winged a silent prayer to Ventrexia to make it so.

Chapter Text

Since he had never bothered to research what constituted mannerly conduct for Ventrexians, Gary was on his best behavior as he settled into his chair in the Silverwing's stateroom. Though not a large space, it was comfortable and handsomely appointed as befitted Avocato's status, with a view out the windows of the spacedock and intricate wall hangings made of various weapons by the door. Right now, the stateroom was pulling double duty as the captain's dining room, with an impressive spread of foods both hot and cold. Everything looked and smelled delicious, and as soon as they sat down and Avocato poured them each a glass of wine, Gary realized that he wasn't just hungry, he was ravenous.

Getting here hadn't been easy. There had been no avoiding the stares and whispers as they boarded the space elevator to reach the orbiting shipyards. Nikos leveled a few lethal glares at the Ventrexian crews, and Gary ordered some Guard mechanics to put their recorders away in a secure area, promising action if any footage from the base was aired but knowing full well it would get out anyway. In silence, he stood side-by-side with Avocato as the platform lifted them upwards at a dizzying speed through Tera Con Prime's thin, low atmosphere. There was a moment of lightness before the artificial gravity kicked in, and then they were in space, with a spectacular view of the ships being refitted.

"You know," said Gary thoughtfully, reaching for his wine, "If someone had told me last week I'd be sitting down to dinner with you, I would have called them crazy."

"Same here," admitted Avocato.

"Everyone I know is going to want to strangle me for walking right onto your ship."

A little huff of a laugh escaped Avocato at the idea of taking Goodspeed hostage. "All of Tera Con Prime knows where you are. This is the safest place on the planet for you." He shook his head. "It's been one hell of a week."

"Well, you'll be happy to know I'm afraid. Like, shivering in my booties, want-to-hide-under-the-covers afraid."

"I'm glad to hear it, though I'm more relieved than happy." He gestured at the food. "Please help yourself, Captain. I'd serve, but I don't know your tastes."

"You know, you can call me Gary."

Avocato nodded, but made no promises.

The food was as delicious as it promised to be, and for a few minutes they just ate in silence, savoring the food, getting some energy back, and trying to figure out what to say. They both broke the silence at the same moment.

"Okay, so-"

"Since we-"

They stopped, looking at one another across the table. Gary smiled.

"Go ahead."

"You first."

"You're the captain."

"And you're my guest," insisted Avocato.

Gary could not help but chuckle. "Okay. I was going to say, we might want to figure out what we're going to do if we start by outlining what we both know."

"My suggestion exactly. So. What do we know?"

As it turned out, what they knew didn't amount to much. Laying all his cards on the table, Gary detailed Tribore and Professor Van Newton's observations and his mother's worries. He even agreed that he hadn't taken the situation seriously enough, but recognized hot, hot water now that they were up to their chesticles in it. Avocato seemed equally honest, and he had even less information and no leads on the origin of the rumor.

"What do you think the High Helper meant when she said they are true?" asked Avocato. He hesitated, then poured them more wine.

"No clue." Gary watched the deep red liquid splash into the glass before him. "Maybe she believes the whole story that we're in love."

"I thought they could read emotions. She should know better."

"Dad says they can, but they have to be tight with the person and . . . he says the Order members can exist in several timelines at once. Sometimes it's a past or future version of the Helper from one second to the next. He says it can make for some confusing conversations and is a major contributing factor to everyone thinking they're so weird."

"Sounds like a headache. So, that could have been some Hula from an alternate timeline ten years in the future saying we're true?"

"Yee-up. dunno if it's something they can control. See why Dad hates them? Apparently, the only thing they never see is how and when they'll die."

"Good to know. Can they lie? Or be lied to?"

"Yes and yes, from what I know, though Dad says they like to act like the answers are no."

"Would they be served by the Lord Commander being deposed?"

"They seem pretty up in his business, so unless they know something he doesn't, I can't see it. Dad says they like to make it seem like they're some power behind the throne and pulling strings and stuff, but they don't have any more pull than any other faction and just manipulate propaganda better than the competition."

Avocato sighed. "If only we knew why this all started. Things would make so much more sense if we knew who did this."

Lifting his wine, Gary answered, and not without sympathy for Avocato's frustration, "Unless the answer drops out of heaven and into our laps in the next three seconds, we should probably aim our worry at the things we can effect, like popular opinion and keeping you safe."

"What do you mean?"

"You're absolutely right in that the Lord Commander will lash out at you before me, but he probably won't try anything until he talks to our parents. Both our families are popular and powerful enough that he won't want to risk pissing off one or the other. That buys us some time."

"For what?" By his tone, it was clear Avocato suspected Gary was scheming.

"People are already rooting for us and taking bets on who's going to ask who and when the wedding will be. With so much attention on us, that's automatic pressure on the Lord Commander to keep us alive and kicking. We can really get the empire on our side if we . . . if we feed into what they want to see."

Over the brim of his wine glass, Avocato cast Gary a look of disgust and disappointment. "You've been reading fanfic, haven't you?"

A laugh escaped him. "I might have glanced at a few stories." He raised both hands to fend off any judgement. "Exclusively for research purposes, of course."

With a pained groan, Avocato dropped his face into his hand. "I hate you."

"They think we're adorable. So we give them adorable."

Eyes closed, Avocato demanded, "And what about our direct orders not to stir up any more stories or rumors?"

"We won't be stirring anything," reasoned Gary. "We will be obedient soldiers in snazzy uniforms. We just keep on keeping on. We let our fans do the stirring for us."

Another groan. Avocato had yet to look up. Gary took the lack of protest as verrrry reluctant agreement and pressed on.

"Okay. Put that idea on the back burner for a few. How do you court on Ventrexia?"

He was rewarded with a hearty glare that had no heat behind it. "Why?"

"Need to know."

Pushing himself up straight, Avocato took a breath, took another slice of roasted meat, and plunged right into the lesson. "There's a tradition in noble houses called Gifts Given. To start, most noble marriages are arranged, and while many parents will give their children some latitude, not all do. So, it's considered very gauche to tell someone you love them prior to an engagement because up to that point, you could end up married to someone else."

"That's awful."

"No, it's not. How sound were your decisions when you were seventeen?"

Gary was going to argue on principle, then remembered he was still living at home and if he'd married her, Quinn would have divorced him inside of a year . . . a month . . . twenty minutes. "Point taken."

"It's a parent's duty to do what's best for their child, and if they do it correctly, their child will have a successful marriage and love will grow if it hasn't started already. Gifts Given is a way of communicating to a person – and their parents - that you're interested in them. It's a chance to get to know them well enough to know if you want to marry them or not. Anywhere between nine and twelve gifts are exchanged, culminating in an engagement which, for Ventrexians, is symbolized by a bracelet worn on the left arm."

"Huh. We do rings."

"You don't have fur."

"I'd look funny if I did."

"Most likely. If you did, you'd find rings can be very annoying. The gifts start small, but as time progresses they get more personalized and elaborate and often expensive. They're also meant to show the parents you understand and respect their child, and can hunt and provide for a family. Seeing it through to the end shows dedication and devotion, especially if the parents decide to make things difficult." Avocato gave a little laugh. "Things can get nasty if there are multiple suitors for one person. Poison isn't unheard of, though that rarely ends well for the poisoner. Sometimes learning a new skill or breaking an annoying habit is a gift. I know one girl who went to a speech therapist to change her accent, and a cousin who learned how to fletch arrows for a girl who loved archery."

"Is there anything you can't give?"

"Jewelry and severed heads are frowned upon."

It took a moment for Gary to realize Avocato was serious. He blinked. "I'll keep it in mind. What if you get something from someone you don't like?"

Avocato shrugged and poured them more wine. "You don't give them something back, or you return the gift."

"Ouch."

Avocato huffed a little laugh. "If you really hate them, you return it in pieces. One of my cousins once destroyed a suitor's heirloom necklace that had been in his family for over a thousand years."

"Whoa!"

"He didn't get the message the first nine times his gifts were returned."

"Sheesh. Persistent. The whole thing sounds way stressful."

"That's part of it. Parents won't consider someone who drops out just because things get intense."

"Have you ever done it?"

"No. I've hardly been home since I graduated the academy. I expect my parents to pick my spouse, and then I'll start. It's my mother's mission to see me married before I'm thirty."

With a sympathetic smile, Gary saluted with his wine. "You're probably wishing she was already successful."

"I just want the right person to marry. I don't care when it happens." He took his fork and picked at the meat on his plate. "How do humans court?"

Gary likewise served himself more vegetables. "Seems like we're a lot more relaxed about it, by the sound of it. We hang out, go out, do things together that help you to get to know someone."

"Are your marriages arranged?"

"Most times, no, but since my dad is the Captain of the Guard, I'm kind of expected to connect with someone of the same social standing."

"Have you?"

Gary gave his head a shake. "Let's say I did, and she didn't."

"Ah." Avocato smiled his understanding as he took another bite. "So . . ." He hesitated, clearly hating to continue.

"Spit it out."

Avocato blinked and frowned before realizing Gary didn't mean it literally. Recovering, he swallowed and said,

"As the son of a noble house, there are protocols I must follow. You said the rumor circulating is you're about to ask me to marry you. By Ventrexian standards, that would mean you did your research and initiated the Gifts Given, probably pretty very soon after we met, and I have reciprocated. Since we supposedly met only last year and rarely get to see one another in person, that means you are very serious in your resolution to wed. The fact that you, a non-Ventrexian, would go to those lengths just to declare your intentions is very telling of your devotion, and would greatly endear even you to the Ventrexian people. That alone could be your first gift."

"Yes, I am a very considerate boyfriend," Gary claimed in his best flirting voice. Sacrificing manners for playfulness, he leaned his chin on his hand and asked, "So, what would Captain Avocato give to Captain Gary Goodspeed in return?"

Avocato gazed at him with an expression not far off the knee-weakening look he had used in the throne room. That deep voice was surprisingly soft as he said,

"Permission to continue."

Gary froze, astonished, as much by the words as at the tone. His hand dropped to the table with a thud, and he stared at Avocato as the full impact of that statement hit. This was a return for straight-up lying to the emperor's face and setting them on this insane course. This was a promise to stand with him and see this through to wherever it ended. This was -

"Hope." He grinned, delighted because it also meant he'd have to get to know Avocato better. He might be out of his mind, but Gary was actually having fun despite the peril. The fact that Avocato had the best scowl he'd ever seen helped. "Nice. So . . . are the gifts public knowledge or are they hush-hush?"

"Both. Just because people ask doesn't mean you have to tell, but some things are difficult to conceal."

"Huh. We can get some mileage out of that." He picked up his glass, swirling the wine around. "So, like I said, we don't have to get all goo-goo eyed in public and be seen giggling in a cafe. But if I start contacting florists to see if they have any Ventrexian flowers or plants I can send you -"

Catching his drift, Avocato added, "And I pester merchants for recordings of - what was it again? Logging?"

"Loggins."

"-Loggins music-"

"We won't have to lift a finger because those businesses will spread the word for us. I'll just drop a few hints about Gifts Given and Ventrexian traditions and we can keep in the public eye while keeping out of the public eye."

"Should we be seen together?"

"Probably, but let's just let it happen." He shrugged. "I'm sure me coming to the Silverwing has spawned endless speculation and getting home is going to be a nightmare."

A little sound of disgust escaped Avocato as he wiped his face with his napkin. He sounded genuinely confounded as he asked, "How bored are the people of Tera Con Prime that something like this is a sensation?"

Gary laughed. "Very! But they're more interested in peace. And GaryCato."

Then he saluted his host and drained the wine down to the last drop.

Chapter Text

Permission to continue.

Avocato's words echoed and re-echoed in Gary's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the canopy and curtains overhead as dull sunlight started to fill the room.

Permission to continue.

Did that mean Avocato wanted to give them a chance? Like, see this through for real and not an act? He had said he wanted to marry the right person. He hadn't specified a gender, so it seemed he didn't care if it was to a male, female, or other, so long as it was a good fit. Well, that was an approach he could get behind. Sure, Gary thought Quinn was sizzling hot, but so were a lot of guys, including – if he was being perfectly honest and he may as well since he had to live with himself – Avocato.

Avocato had also said he'd do whatever it took to protect his family and friends, and as a captain, he would do anything for his ship and crew. Gary had to admire that resolve. He understood it very well, because he felt the same way about his parents and the Dragonhawks. If that included marrying out of his species, well, woo-hoo for alien sex and inter-species relationships.

If love could grow in arranged marriages – and Avocato seemed perfectly confident it could and would with time and effort put in – then if they followed through and got married to keep the peace . . . could he possibly grow to love Avocato? Sure, he didn't want to kill the guy anymore, and he had enjoyed the Ventrexian's company last night, but not wanting to murder a nice dinner companion was parsecs away from being in love with them.

Or was it? Was he reading too much into this?

Permission to continue.

Beyond permission, beyond hope, Avocato was giving him a chance. Whatever substituted for an olive branch on Ventrexia, Avocato had offered it. He had trusted and carried through. A Goodspeed could do no less.

Just like he tended not to cling to hate and carry grudges (notwithstanding being at war with House Cato), Gary loved easily. He knew this about himself. He'd fallen head over heels for Quinn the moment he clapped eyes on her. He'd gotten weak-kneed over one fake look from Avocato. Fight it as he might, he could see himself falling hard and fast and, yes, stupid, for Avocato.

Despite everything going against them, could love grow between them?

If they gave it their all for the sake of peace, how could it not?

Gary frowned, considering. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, remembering how gentle Avocato had been when he'd used his claws to comb Gary's hair yesterday. He'd emerged with a decent quaff and a nary a scratch.

If that look Avocato had given him in the throne room had any real emotion behind it, Gary knew he'd be enslaved for life and very happily so. Hell, it had been touch and go for a second or two until he got his knees back under his command. He'd caught a glimpse of the passion and drive in Avocato, and he found it as appealing as it was intriguing.

He wondered, what did Avocato see in him? Anything good?

Permission to continue.

Guess he was going to find out.

Gary lingered over breakfast, avoiding Sheryl's piercing looks and broad hints that she wanted to know what had happened yesterday. Well aware that she'd pester him until she got answers, he promised he'd tell all when Sir John arrived. Retreating to his study, he turned on a children's show for some background noise that did not involve talking heads analyzing his relationships and dance moves, did a bit of research on Ventrexian traditions, and waited until businesses started to open. As soon as they did, he contacted a dozen florists and exotics dealers, trying to track down a Ventrexian plant suitable as a gift. He deliberately called ones he knew wouldn't carry what he wanted first, just to get a buzz going. By the third shop he had something of a script worked out, introducing himself (as if they couldn't recognize him on the vid call at this point) and saying he was looking for a Ventrexian plant that could survive on a ship with artificial sunlight. As soon as the shopkeepers realized who he was, he got some very excited responses and gave coy answers when asked who it was for. When he finally did find a plant that would work (a very cool-looking bromeliad-shaped thing with curling, orange-tipped leaves and a spiky blue flower), he paid for it to be repotted in a fancier container and delivered to Avocato's apartment before he could second-guess this plan, or his mother could talk sense into him.

Even though he wasn't on duty, Gary was getting dressed, intending to head into the Infinity Guard base to check on the downed Dragonhawks and to let Major Eevik chew him out for a bit, when the first box arrived. HUE alerted him that a package had been delivered at the main gate for him, and a SAMES was bringing it inside. Excited, Gary grabbed his jacket and made his way to the mansion's arched entrance hall. The box was from a bakery, brightly wrapped and festooned with ribbons and gewgaws. He opened it to find a dozen assorted cookies, as beautiful as they were tasty. Five minutes and two cookies later, another box, equally elaborate but from a different bakery, was delivered. Then another. And another. By the time he was heading out to visit his squadron, no fewer than ten boxes had arrived from all the best bakeries and coffee shops and tea rooms across the city.

Gary didn't even look up when the front door opened again. He could briefly hear shouted questions from the throngs of reporters amassed there behind the front gates, which dropped to a muffled hum when the door closed.

"My, my," lisped Tribore a moment later, surveying the mound of wrapping paper and boxes of colorful treats in the mansion's entrance. He tossed his scarf over his shoulder with a flair as he leaned over the marble-topped table full of delicacies. "What a lovely sight. You're set for almost a whole day, Gary!"

He laughed and smiled, used to Tribore showing himself in. "Oh, hey, Tribore. Mom's expecting you. Yeah, it's, uh, a lot of cookies."

Astute and suggestive as always, Tribore gave him a little nudge. "What's the occasion, Captain? Early birthday present?"

"Uh, no, not quite," he said as a SAMES entered with another box. "Remember you asked if I'd researched Ventrexian mating rituals?"

Six eyes flew wide. Tribore put a hand to his chest and enjoyed a moment of speechless delight. If a full season of Edge of Madness had just dropped, Tribore could not have looked happier. "You sly devil! Are these from Lord Avocato?" His voice dropped and he leaned close. "Tell me that you two have initiated Gifts Given."

"Ha! So, you researched them, too," he said, opening the latest box. This one was straight-up chocolate chip cookies. Perfect and gooey and the way right to his heart. A little box of entry into heaven coins, not to be squandered on the unworthy. He closed the lid and handed it back to the SAMES. "Tango, take this and lock it in my closet. HUE, KVN is not allowed in my room. If these cookies aren't there when I get home, I'm dismantling you."

"Well informed is well prepared," said Tribore, helping himself to a cookie from the array on the table. "So?"

"It's . . . kind of complicated, but yeah? Pretty sure?"

"I thought you were protesting too much the other day. Look at you, walking right into the lion's den! I'm so proud. Just promise me a front-row seat the day you tell all. Oh, and by the way, you two didn't just make a splash with your dance, you caused a full-on tidal wave. Nicely done, Gary. The ripples are still spreading."

"Well, keep the Gifts Given thing on the down low, please. Really, Tribore. I'm not going to say what the Lord Commander said to us, but he doesn't want any more crazy rumors or breaking news."

Tribore smiled and side-eyed the front door as it opened for another SAMES with another box, this one with balloons. He looked back to Gary and easily promised, "My lips are sealed. But I can't talk for the rest of the city."

That was fine. Tribore wouldn't need to.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Do we need to stage an intervention here, Captain?" asked Derek, waving a cookie at him.

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"First of all, you 'never met' Avocato, and after one dance and one day, you're hanging out with him and he's sending you your favorite food. What the hell, Gar?"

He was sitting in the Dragonhawks' barracks, surrounded by his squad both bedridden and otherwise, and half a dozen boxes of cookies (minus the chocolate chips) that were rapidly being devoured. Gary had arrived half an hour ago and reported to the major's office to throw himself on Eevik's not-so-tender mercies. A box of cookies took the edge off of its wrath, and Gary gotten reamed for everything from the being in the news to being on the Lord Commander's radar to falling for some goddamned Ventrexian to letting his men get sick without him.

". . . a real leader would have gotten sick right along with your men!"

"Understood, sir," said Gary, opting not to point out half his men were women or otherwise. "I'll do better next time."

"See to it, Captain! Now get out! And leave another box of those cookies."

It hadn't been the worst chewing out he'd ever gotten, and really, it was almost all for show. Gary knew the major was more concerned about the squadron than anything else, and the colonel would want to know Eevik had spoken to him. With that business out of the way, he could relax a bit with his men and get an idea of how they were handling the Avocato connection.

Derek couldn't know it, but he'd just succinctly summed up the whole situation. As far as the Infinity Guard knew, Gary and Avocato's relationship was a lot older than three days. Clearly lots of research had been done on Ventrexian courtship traditions by the Dragonhawks for them to have pieced together so much. Unless they were totally off base, he was not going to correct any assumptions they made.

"Who said they were from Avocato?" demanded Gary, secretly delighted that their plan seemed to be working. Of course, it wouldn't survive its first encounter with a pissed-off Lord Commander, but he and Avocato hadn't done anything but add to the local economy. Any noise being made was generated by the local merchants.

"Seriously?" asked Bluestein from the next bed. "Gary, you and your fancy furball haven't been off the news since peace broke out. And for some reason, Ventrexian plants are suddenly in high demand and every bakery in town is out of cookies. So yeah, they're from Avocato."

"Okay, okay," laughed Gary, raising his hands. It was time for a bit of deflection. "There's a lot more to the situation, guys. The good part is we've got a kinda truce with the Ventrexians, we've got cookies, and you lucky bastards get to stare at my handsome face for a little while."

Groans and hoots from every side answered, and he was pelted with napkins and ribbons.

"The bad part is, you're dating Avocato!" exclaimed Derek. "And I'm stuck in the fighter with you! Where are your standards?"

"I'll be sure to share all the spicy details," promised Gary mercilessly.

Derek let out an overly dramatic groan and pulled his blanket over his head. "Don't do me any favors, Captain!"

"Yeah, well, no more shooting potential dates."

Gary hung out until all the cookies were gone, glad to learn they would all be released for duty that evening. They had, apparently, ingested something at the Launch Pad that caused a brief bout of flu-like symptoms, making for a day or two of discomfort but doing no permanent damage. The medics suspected an out-of-date mixer used in their drinks, or dirty hoses on the taps, but no one was willing to report their favorite watering hole to the authorities. Either way, they would be back to duty soon.

Back at the Goodspeed mansion, six more boxes of cookies were waiting for him. He had to hand it to Avocato - the man knew how to send a present. He sent three boxes down to the kitchen and carried three boxes to his study before sending for a glass of milk. Then he luxuriated in this bounty. It was too bad this was all just supposed to be an act, because from the look of things, Avocato was actually prime boyfriend material.

And speaking of acts, it was Gary's turn again. Turning on his computer, he started looking for dealers in Ventrexian antiquities, hoping to find some cool old weapon or shadowblockers set he could snag for the next round of Gifts Given.

Chapter Text

It was early in the morning, but Avocato's internal clock was still on stellar time. He was sitting out on the patio, enjoying the apartment's small garden and a cup of coffee and trying to ignore the pain in his leg. The wound wasn't getting better as quickly as he'd expected, and while he knew he needed to see a doctor, he also knew he couldn't go to just anyone. The doctor his family normally saw when they were here was on vacation off planet, and Avocato did not trust the doctor's associate to be as discreet as he needed in this case. His own ship's medic was on leave back on Ventrexia, and until he returned, the Silverwing's crew was expected to use the doctors at the Infinity Guard base. If he went that route, however, the wound would get recorded and investigated, and he and the Dragonhawks would get reprimands for fighting, discharging weapons, and not reporting injuries. He did not want to give Viro any excuse to put him on report. Technically, any discipline he received would have to be handed down from General Cataloupe, but Avocato knew full well little things like regulations would not stop Viro from trying to crush an inconvenience.

And he was very much aware of just how inconvenient he was for Viro at the moment.

Since Nikos was more than capable of seeing to the refit of the Silverwing and knew the extent of his captain's injury, he had banished Avocato to his lounge chair. Knowing the threat of time in the brig - not that the Silverwing had one, but they would improvise - was real if he showed up within three kilometers of the shipyard, Avocato let himself be kicked off his own ship. That left him with at least today free and loads to think about.

What had possessed him to give Goodspeed (despite being invited to use his given name, Avocato did not want to get in the habit of thinking of the human as Gary. Not at this point, anyway) permission to continue with the Gifts Given? He wanted to think it was desperation to keep their plan in motion, but Avocato knew that deep down, he wanted Gar - Goodspeed to court him. Every turn, every interaction with this man was a surprise, and Avocato found himself intrigued. He'd been attracted to people in the past, but this was the first time he found himself fascinated. A large part of that, he was sure, was because Goodspeed was a completely different race, but there was more. The inherent decency of the man himself drew Avocato in and held him.

Nikos would strangle him for his own good for seriously considering a relationship. His parents . . . Avocato could imagine his mother's initial shock before she got to business and started ferreting out every detail of Gary Goodspeed's existence. His father? Stoic silence until his wife gave her approval or not. Grand Lord Catomar was not so foolish as to cross his wife when it came to their children. It occurred to Avocato that if his father supported ending this war, he very well could be all for sealing the deal with a marriage.

Could he marry the likes of Gary Goodspeed? Well, that wasn't the question. He could marry anyone in creation. The question was, could he love Gary? Could they make a marriage work out? Could there be more to it than a false front and the preservation of peace between their families? Not that peace alone wouldn't be enough to make Avocato give it his all, but . . . could there be more?

Yes.

He could see it. Last night they had talked far into the night, discussing everything and nothing, and they never quite ran out of things to say. They had dined and laughed and enjoyed the company of an enemy together. That spoke a great deal about their characters and how far they were both willing to go. Goodspeed wanted peace as much as he did. Avocato was sick of lives and resources being wasted in this pointless argument. Granted, many families on both sides would be furious at being denied revenge, but that would be for his father and Sir John to sort out.

It was hard to gauge Gary's feelings on this, but the fact that they were collaborating and following through with their plan spoke volumes. Goodspeed had been the first to suggest a relationship. He had asked about Ventrexian courtship first. He was clearly serious. He wanted this to work.

Avocato could do no less.

With fresh determination, he scooped up the padd on the table beside him. He had watched Goodspeed devour almost a whole plate of cookies yesterday, and he had said the pastries were his favorite food. He pulled up a list of the high-end bakeries and pastry shops in the city. It was time to get to courting, Ventrexian style.

Three cups of coffee later, Avocato had spent the better part of a week's salary on over a dozen orders of the best cookies to be had on Tera Con Prime, with the fanciest packaging and most public delivery that money could buy. Avocato made it a point to talk to the sales person at each location and made it a show to work with them to pick out the most popular flavors and pretties cookies. Most of the people on the line did their best to remain professional, even though he could see they were bubbling over with questions, but a handful absolutely lost it when they recognized him from the news feeds and squeals in the background were common. He smiled at their gushing and squeaky voices and laughed at their nosy questions and silly flirtations, assuring them that no, he did not want to include a note and the recipient would know who they were from. There was a lot of swooning on camera when he gave the delivery address, and Avocato began to appreciate the power of a fan base.

He relaxed into his lounge chair, well satisfied. It had been a good distraction to take his mind off his leg and he was certain all those bakery shop employees would be talking up a storm. Good.

He heard the door chime, but didn't move from his seat. Mrs. DeWinter knew who could and who could not enter. Moments later, he heard her approaching.

"This just arrived for you, Captain," she said, and placed a magnificent koro plant on the table. "There was no note, but the driver said you'd know who sent it." She took a step back to admire it. "Oh, it's quite lovely. Is it from Ventrexia?"

"Yes, it is," he said, sitting up to appreciate the plant with her. He let his breath out in recognition of exactly how remarkable and healthy this plant was, and stood to get a closer look. "It's rare to see them blooming off world. Whoever raised this knew what they were doing."

He reached out to touch the spiky flower, awed by the rich blue. He'd never seen one with a blossom quite this dark. Gary must have paid a fortune for it.

"Do you know who sent it?" Mrs. DeWinter asked.

Avocato smiled, pleased and touched and . . . he wasn't sure what else, but he was feeling a lot at once, not all of it familiar. "I do."

"Well, you let me know if you want it moved anywhere. I'll leave you to enjoy it."

For a long few minutes, Avocato just admired the strong colors and sweet, citrus scent of the flower. He smiled, suddenly absurdly pleased. A more perfect gift for him could not be had, and he could not respond with less. Snatching up the padd, he got back online and spent the rest of his paycheck on cookies.

Chapter Text

"Your father will be here tomorrow around three, Gary," announced Lady Sheryl as they sat down to dinner.

"I'm on duty at ten and I'll be at the base the next four days," Gary replied, pushing her chair in before taking his own seat. "We're scheduled for some simulator time tomorrow, so I'm sure I can arrange a few hours of leave with the major," he said, confident Eevik would be happy to get rid of him. He waited until the servant made sure they had everything they needed to enjoy the meal and stepped out before saying, "I'd like to sit down with you and Dad. There's a lot I've got to tell you both."

"Yes, I know," Lady Sheryl replied, he tone betraying her annoyance. She wanted answers, and for once in his life, her son had not been oversharing every last feeling coursing through him. The habit had exhausted her patience in the past, and its sudden absence was doubly trying.

"A lot has happened really fast, Mom. I'm still catching up."

"You're still the hottest ticket in town and the uproar hasn't died down. What's with all the cookies? The news crews are interviewing bakers. According to Tribore, when word got out, some bakeries got upset they didn't get orders and just sent us cookies. Why, Gary? Why?"

"Tomorrow. I promise."

Lady Sheryl gave him a long, hard look. Then she drew a deep breath and nodded. "Tomorrow."

Once dinner was done, Gary retreated to his rooms to make sure the SAMES had prepped his uniform and kit for when he reported back on duty tomorrow. Since he had a residence in the city, he wasn't expected to live in the barracks all the time. For the stretches on duty, it was just easier to stay at the base. At least, as the wing commander, he had his own room, small and Spartan though it may be.

He found everything prepared as usual, boots and uniform and kit all hung up neat and clean, and so wrapped up the evening meal with a few chocolate chip cookies stashed in his dresser drawer. He had just thrown himself onto the sofa and grabbed the remote for the vid screen when his eyes fell on the sleek little gaming set on the low table before him. It was a beautifully made piece his parents had given him when he was ten or eleven, and it contained a lot of classic games from earth.

Including several packs of cards, replaced over the years when Gary wore them out with constant use. Stuffing a cookie in his mouth, he opened the wooden case and retrieved a pack of cards. He fanned them open, able to expertly manipulate them after years of practice. He glanced at the clock. It wasn't late. Just past dinner time.

And he had told Avocato he'd teach him how to play poker . . .

Surging out of his seat, he shoved the cards into his pocket and yanked open his closet, snagging his favorite jacket. "HUE, I'm going out. If my mother wants to know, I'm playing cards with some friends."

"Where are you going, Gary?" asked the AI, unconvinced by his tone.

"Out," said Gary. "I won't be too late."

"You're on duty tomorrow."

"Which is why I won't be too late," he replied impatiently, well aware he was bickering with a computer. One that could argue endlessly. "I'm not seventeen, HUE. I freaking know my schedule."

"Language, Gary."

"Bite me, HUE. And bite KVN, too. Make sure he stays out of my stuff."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Avocato was reading Nikos and the engineer's updates on the refit of the Silverwing (Nikos was satisfied with the progress, but nothing but perfection made Chief Engineer Pawlette happy) when Mrs. DeWinter entered the drawing room. She looked concerned.

"Captain, security at the entrance just called. There's someone here who would like to speak to you. His name is Captain Gary Goodspeed. I believe he's the son of the Captain of the Guard, Sir John Goodspeed," she finished in a warning tone.

Avocato blinked. This was completely unexpected. Gary had come here? Why? Mrs. DeWinter was well aware of the animosity between Houses Cato and Goodspeed, but he wondered how she was completely ignorant of recent developments. If so, she was the only one on the planet. "Correct, Mrs. DeWinter. Please show him in, and bring us a few refreshments."

She stared at him, astonished, mouth open and all three eyes wide.

"You haven't seen the news, have you?" he asked gently. "You may want to catch up with recent events when you're off tomorrow."

"I . . . I will, sir," she managed. "I'll . . . escort Captain Goodspeed here. You'll be alright alone? I can have some of the security guards come-"

"It's fine," he promised. "You don't have to worry."

Minutes later, a happy, boisterous Gary Goodspeed arrived. He made noise from the moment Mrs. DeWinter allowed him into the apartment all the way to the drawing room, and Avocato was almost laughing by the time he arrived, amazed that one individual could take up so much space.

"Hope you weren't busy with anything super import - no! Don't get up!" Goodspeed ordered, breezing in casually and waving Avocato to stay put, even though he hadn't moved. "Rest your - Aw, cool! You got your plant! It's bigger than I thought! Wow, that is one intense color!"

He walked right past Avocato to the double doors opening leading onto the patio to examine the koro blossom. He didn't touch it, but he leaned close to examine the spiky flower and colorful leaves from various angles. Finally, he looked back to where Avocato sat with his leg propped up on a footstool, grinning broadly at the surprised looks he was receiving.

"I hope you liked this as much as I liked my present. Those cookies are amazing!"

Avocato looked to where Mrs. DeWinter was gaping in shock. Clearing his throat, Avocato said, "Thank you, Mrs. DeWinter."

She jumped. "Yesss, sir," she managed to croak out before retreating to her pantry.

Nodding at the plant, Avocato said, "Koros rarely bloom off of Ventrexia, and I've never seen on this healthy off world. Whoever raised this is an expert. I've never had one before, but I'll learn how to tend it." He looked at Gary and actually smiled. "Thank you. It's a perfect gift and . . . I'll admit, it makes me a little homesick."

"Well, I'm going to be enjoying those cookies for days, especially the chocolate chip ones." Gary plopped onto the sofa closest to Avocato. "Since we're being honest, I'll admit I used a box or two to bribe my major not to chew my butt completely off."

Soldier to the core, Avocato understood completely. "You're sitting down, so I can tell it worked. Pastries well spent, it seems."

"Cookies are a coinage valued by all beings of good taste." Gary laughed. "Looks like we're both naturals at this Gifts Given thing. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm gate crashing your pad."

Small wonder this man was a fighter pilot. He was brash and loud and so many energetic things at once it was amazing he could contain them all. Downplaying the unexpected situation, awed at his vocabulary, Avocato replied, "Somewhat curious, yes."

Mrs. DeWinter arrived with a platter of fruits and cheese, glasses, and a decanter of wine. They were silent as she set the food out in easy reach.

"Would you mind closing the doors?" asked Avocato as she turned to leave. "To the garden, too."

A little surprised since it was a warm evening, the housekeeper obeyed, casting Avocato one last, nervous look as she shut the doors to the drawing room behind her. As far as she knew, she was leaving him alone with a sworn enemy of House Cato. Avocato waited a moment, then activated the privacy shield on his wrist. Shifting in his seat, he poured them each some wine as he asked,

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain?"

"Couple of things," said Gary, sitting back and getting comfortable like he'd visited countless times before and was assured of a welcome. "One, to thank you for my treasure trove of cookies and to make sure the plant got here okay." He took the glass Avocato offered, raising it in a salute. "Here's to this stage of our plan working out."

"I haven't watched the news much today. I've been catching up with reports and news from home. How furious is the Lord Commander going to be with us?"

"Pretty damned, going by the gossip channels. I called a dozen or so florists before I found your plantopus out there, and by the looks of things, you called every bakery in town."

"Close to," confessed Avocato. "I didn't even have to tell them who I was."

"Dude, you're a two-meter tall blue Ventrexian. That stands out even here. You're kind of hard to hide."

Avocato had no argument, and so returned the salute.

"Two," Gary continued, helping himself to a piece of cheese, "my dad is home tomorrow. I promised my mother I'd tell all. I just wanted to clear that with you. Is there any aspect of what's happened that you don't want me to relay to them?"

Avocato sat back, not focused on anything specific as his mind ran through the rapid-fire series of events that had landed them in this mess. Finally he asked, "You're going to tell them it's all a lie?"

There followed a very, very long silence as Gary Goodspeed regarded him with an intense scrutiny Avocato would not have thought him capable of. He set his wine glass down and drew a slow breath before saying, "I don't know. Is it?"

Avocato returned the examination, trying to take stock of the tone and body language Goodspeed used, looking for some hint in that smooth, boyish face and wide eyes. These were dangerous waters, but not without their appeal. How was it that in less than a week he had been faced with a series of the hardest decisions of his life, all of them revolving around the young man seated beside him? Clearly he had not been alone in soul-searching over this dilemma. If he didn't speak the truth now, though, if he said yes, it's all a lie, Goodspeed might accept it and there would be no going back.

But everything going forward would be based on a falsehood.

He gaze slid past Gary to the koro in all its glory, sitting on the wall of the garden. The pleasure it had brought him was real, as much for its own beauty as the thrill of actually being courted. Wanted. Cherished. Pursued. That had never happened to him. He'd never had the chance.

Here was his chance. If he wanted it, it was here, now, waiting for him. He just needed to reach out and take it. Granted, they were moving at the speed of light, but wasn't that how things worked out sometimes?

He swallowed, surfacing from his reverie, and focused on his expectant companion. Quietly, carefully, he said, "No. I don't think so. Not for me at least, and not entirely."

There was another pause as Gary processed this. Avocato was rewarded with another smile.

"I can work with that, and . . . yeah. Same. I'm not sure what to think about . . . all of whatever it is we've got, but we've definitely got something, and I honestly think it's worth the effort."

"Agreed."

"But it's not going to be easy."

"I can't see any way it could be, especially given the Lord Commander's withholding his approval."

"Which we shouldn't need because no one else does."

Avocato served himself a few slices of fruit, feeling himself frown. "Does he always make up the rules as he goes?"

"Yup," was the unhappy reply. "And always to his benefit. He's loads of fun that way."

"How is it he's friends with Sir John?"

"I'm actually beginning to wonder how much choice my dad has in that matter."

A pang of sympathy for Gary's dilemma seized Avocato. "That won't be an easy conversation."

"No kidding. And I'm looking forward to it probably about as much as you're looking forward to telling your mom."

"I'm going to try to have Nikos here when I talk to her. She won't kill me too badly with him present."

"Can I borrow him for tomorrow?"

They both enjoyed a little laugh. The tension of the discussion was dissipating.

"If I thought he'd leave the ship, I'd say yes," said Avocato.

"Naa." Gary sipped his wine. "I can handle Dad, and he can handle Mom."

"Will he be furious?"

"Doubt it. I know he's appreciating this peace. I think his concern will be I don't feel forced into anything I don't want to do."

"Do you feel that?"

Gary nibbled some fruit as he considered. "No. Probably not any more than you at this point. It's not a relationship I ever would have considered. You've got to admit, it's pretty far out there. But if we can make it work, make this peace stick for real, I kinda feel . . . "

"Obligated to see it through," finished Avocato.

"Yeah, but . . . not in any way that's bad."

Avocato smiled. "Agreed," he repeated.

It was a moment of understanding. Of trust. Few people would have understood it or what motivated it, but they did, and so nothing else mattered. After an extended silence, Gary stirred, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pack of cards.

"Third reason I'm here, Avocato, is I did say I'd teach you how to play poker."

"Yes, you did."

He expertly shuffled the cards against his knee. "So, you busy right now?"

"Yes," said Avocato, shifting forward in his chair. "I'm learning how to play poker."

Chapter Text

"So." Sir John Goodspeed settled onto the sofa next to his wife, accepting a cup of tea and another kiss from her. His brown eyes were as calm as ever and a faint smile was on his lips as he regarded his son. "You would not believe the stories I'm hearing. Talk to me, kiddo."

"I actually probably would believe them at this point, Dad," Gary replied, grimacing and running a hand through his hair. It was easy to be flip and snarky around Avocato, but this wasn't just his father, this was the Captain of the Guard, a man who had responsibilities completely removed from fatherhood.

Seeing Gary's hesitation, John called, "HUE, privacy shield on this wing of the house and advise all household personnel and robots to exit this wing until we give them leave to return."

Despite being in uniform, Gary let himself slouch a little bit. "Okay, so, things are a bit of a mess and . . . and I messed up and made them worse and now I'm wondering if my solution isn't a total recipe for disaster."

Knowing his son like he did, John quietly said, "Why don't you begin at the beginning, and tell us about it."

Comforted, knowing his parents would hear him through, Gary started with getting blindsided by Bluestein and Derek a few days back and, with numerous sidetracks and backtracks and questions, ended with staying a bit too late at Avocato's apartment playing poker last night. He very deliberately did not mention anything about his new attitude towards the Lord Commander, but he did include Van Newton's observations and Avocato's fears. And their decision to straight-up lie to the Lord Commander. He expected more reaction out of his parents than he got for that little detail, but they took it in stride along with the rest of the story. It took a long time to get it all out, but Gary felt better for having told someone the whole truth of the matter.

For a long moment after Gary had finished, Sir John sat in silence, holding Sheryl's hand, and pondering what he'd been told. Finally, he stirred and gave Gary a wry little smile.

"Your mother is right, Gary. This is business. This is the security of the empire. You're not dealing with Uncle Jack anymore, but the Lord Commander. You and Avocato are doing what you need to in order to survive, but so is he. There's a line Jack and I agreed to draw that separates the ruler and subject on one side, and the friends on the other. Yes, Jack and I can sit down for a beer and tacquitos, but the Lord Commander can order the captain of his guard into battle, and the friendship is never a factor. It can't be."

"If the Lord Commander wants a stable empire, shouldn't he be glad an internal war has been shelved?" Gary asked. "Honestly? I would not say no to marrying Avocato if that's what it takes to keep the peace. Avocato feels the same. Maybe even stronger since he's got so much family in the war. Getting to know him these past few days has actually been fun. Credit where it's due, he's not at all what I expected and a hell of a good dancer. But the Lord Commander is treating our . . . I dunno, I guess it's a relationship now that we're courting Ventrexian style, like a threat."

"Tell me again what he said," Sheryl asked. "About the rumor."

"I don't think he believed us when we said we didn't know who started it, or why, or that we didn't have some bigger plan, but we seriously don't. He said the repercussions of us getting engaged could impact the whole empire, and we were lucky that this was the outcome and not something drastic."

"I get your frustration. You didn't ask for any of this. It has impacted the whole empire," said John. "And it is pretty drastic. You're isolated, son, here on Tera Con Prime, and all you get to see here is the tip of the iceberg. All the factions have paused hostilities and plots and are watching to see what happens next. A lot is riding on this situation. If our house unites with House Cato, the balance of power would shift dramatically. Not just the various power bases like the great houses and the temples, but the planetary guilds and militias might change allegiances."

"Just because someone can do something doesn't mean that they will, Dad."

Sir John smiled. Despite being an experienced and decorated soldier, at his heart, his son was a gentle and loving soul, with an immense capacity for kindness and a desire to do what was right.

"Kiddo," he said softly, trying to ease the impact of his words. "Regardless of the other person's intent, the possibility that they can act is enough to make them a mortal threat when it comes to thrones and empires." John cast a swift look at his wife. "Could and possibly are the same as will in this case. We appreciate that you're willing to take this further with Avocato, but we can't let you do that."

Gary looked between his parents, shocked. "But . . ."

"Gary," said Lady Sheryl, completely serious, "we know you think it's a simple solution, but . . . it's not. There is no simple solution. Avocato was right. You'd both be dead before you could make an alliance between our houses."

"What is- what is he so afraid of?"

John and Sheryl exchanged a knowing look, and then John leaned far forward and, despite the privacy shield, dropped his voice to the faintest whisper as he said, "He's afraid of being helpless. Of being powerless again. Of being forgotten . . . or forgettable."

"But he won't be any of those things. He's the emperor."

"Again, if things continue down this path, there's a possibility he could be overthrown. Right now, the powers are balanced. Upset the scale and . . . things could get ugly. I don't want his position any more than Lord Catomar or General Cataloupe does, but that doesn't matter because any imbalance could open the doorway for someone else to step in."

"Ugly?" Gary asked. "You mean Viro?"

Sheryl made a sound of disgust and rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

"That won't happen. I can promise you," said John.

"What can we do? I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a war. Neither does Avocato or Ventrexia or the Infinity Guard."

John leaned forward on his knees, his voice soothing. "Listen. I just got home. Give me a few days to get my feet under me and get back in the groove of things here on Tera Con Prime. I'll find out what I can and see if we can't come up with a plan or compromise of some sort."

"What about Avocato?"

For a long moment, John gazed at his son, reading the hope in his expression. Though the relationship was still quite new and fresh, it was clear that there was some spark, some bond between Gary and the Ventrexian. While he didn't have to like it, John knew he had to accept it because this was his son whom he loved and trusted completely. This was such a strange way for people to come together, but he couldn't talk since his own wife had been sent to spy on him and ended up abandoning her mission to stay with him and Gary. He knew Gary fell in love easily, but he had never before resolved to fall in love. He had made love his mission, and so far, he was a success.

"He means something to you," said John, "doesn't he?"

"He's starting to," said Gary, understating his emotional commitment.

"I'll do what I can to keep him safe, but he's right to be afraid. He should take every precaution. It might be safer for him to stay on his ship."

Gary made a face. "What about this plan he and I have got going with Gifts Given?"

"I say keep it up. For now. Don't be in a rush with it. These things take time. Public opinion is important, so the Lord Commander won't want to make martyrs out of either of you. Just try not to piss him off any more than he already is, okay?"

Not exactly confident he could manage such a task, Gary drew a deep breath and promised, "I'll try."

Chapter Text

Gary's emotions were moshing away in the pit of his stomach as he returned to the Infinity Guard base. As glad as he was to see his father and have him home safe for a while, Gary was disturbed by John's response. He was also, well, disappointed by his parents withholding their immediate approval of a possible betrothal between him and Avocato. He knew it was asking a lot at this point. Hell, they hadn't even met Avocato yet and, sure, there was thirty-odd years of bad blood and hissing between their families, and this was a guy Gary had first crossed less than a week ago and was already courting, but still. Gary knew deep down that he wasn't going to recover from this crush anytime soon. Like, ever. It was too exciting, and he was totally invested.

As usual.

He was a broody moody when joined the other officers for a late dinner. They picked up on his temperament immediately, just because it was very atypical for him not to be constantly upbeat, and they backed off with the teasing. Gary was glad of that much, at least. He needed a chance to think and regroup. He also needed to have a talk with Avocato. Suddenly he could appreciate the Ventrexian's insistence that they talk in private last week. This stuff was all very anxiety-inducing.

This under-the-microscope thing sucked, especially since it was Viro and the Lord Commander looking through the microscope. Someone had signed him and Avocato up to be top dog – or was that top cat? No, he better not go there. Ventrexians were touchy when humans pulled out the cat jokes, and 'touchy' was usually literal and involved claws. Anyway, someone had gotten them into this mess, and he couldn't see a point to it unless they were, as Avocato suggested, being used. Even more used than just being suspended in a never-ending war by their emperor. Like, weaponized type of used. But to what end?

Dinner over, he retreated to his quarters where a box of cookies awaited. At least he got some cookies out of this. The room was small and plain compared to his suite at the mansion, but it was comfortable, and he had personalized it with a few pictures and brightly colored blankets and knickknacks. Dropping into the desk chair, he checked the time and then commed Avocato, hoping it wasn't too late.

To his relief, Avocato took the call. The projector on the desk displayed an almost-opaque image of the Ventrexian as he set a padd aside and gave his attention to Gary.

"Hey, Avocato. Sorry to bother you."

"You're no bother," said that deep voice, and with three words of reassurance, Gary felt better already even if Avocato didn't mean it.

“Are you busy?”

“Only if you consider research on Kenny Loggins albums busy.”

Gary smiled, feeling more himself each moment. "Heck chicklets, one of my favorite pastimes. Can we talk?"

"Is this line secure?"

He glanced around the familiar space, suddenly not so sure that he could trust they weren't being spied upon. "Um . . ."

His hesitation was enough answer for Avocato. The line might be secure, but there was no guarantee the room was. The Ventrexian thought for a moment.

"You said you were on duty for a few days. How about I join you on base for breakfast in the morning?"

Relief flooded Gary, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Yeah. Yeah. Breakfast sounds good. I can eat."

He was rambling, and clamped his mouth shut with an audible click. Avocato smiled at the sound.

"What time do they start serving?"

"Uh, five-thirty. I have to be in the simulator by eight."

"Is their coffee any good?"

"It's brown. It's dark. Hot. You know, basic."

"Meet me at six at the entrance to the officer’s canteen. I'll bring coffee. I'm sure we'll find plenty to talk about."

"It's a da –" He stopped, mouth agape. "Oh, my god. It is a date."

Avocato let out an amused huff. "Just remember, I asked you first. Avocato out."

For a long moment after Avocato's image vanished, Gary just stared at the space above his wrist. For once, he actually found a use for HUE's annoying habit of saying Facticulating followed by a dramatic pause. He needed the processing time, because –

A date. He actually had a date with Avocato. He hadn't had a date with anyone in literal years. He facticulated the criteria to be sure he had the details straight.

He had himself. Gary. Check.

Another person. In this case, Avocato. Check.

A time. Tomorrow. 0600. Check.

A place. Entrance to the officer’s canteen. Check.

A plan. Breakfast. Check.

Facticulating.

Sweet galaxies. He had a date. Like, a real date, not him throwing himself at Quinn and hoping she'd have pity kind of thing.

Actually, Avocato was right. He had asked Gary out. Pretty damned smoothly, too, because Gary hadn't realized it while it was happening. Damn. That suave bastard.

He grinned. Coffee was a good substitute for flowers, and if it was good enough (and he knew perfectly well it had to be better than the stuff served on the base), he might just count the coffee towards their Gifts Given tally.

Because date.

The word was wreathed in fanfare and laurels for him. Sure, at this stage in life he probably shouldn't be this hopelessly gaga over this, but Gary had never been asked out before by anyone. It was a whole new sensation, and it was kind of awesome. He was still for a while, lost in the feeling, before he saw how late it was.

Crap.

Feeling mildly panicked, Gary glanced around the room. Because he was so bad at mornings, there were four alarms in here. He surged to his feet to reset them all, the first at 0500 and the others at ten-minute intervals. Then he set the alarm on his computer. Then he called HUE.

"HUE, it's imperative that I'm up before 0530 tomorrow," he said before the AI could even greet him. "I don't care if you have to send the MP's to do a wellness check on me. Call until I'm up and moving and speaking in complete sentences. Got it?"

"What's going on, Gary?" asked HUE.

"Important stuff, HUE," Gary shot back, hanging up a clean uniform.

"Infinity Guard business?"

Was HUE programmed to argue with him, or just nosy?

"Infinity Guard wing commander none of your business," snapped Gary. "Just call me at five. And don't tell my parents. Or Tribore. Or KVN."

"That you're meeting Avocato?" surmised the AI, somehow infusing his voice with a wry tone.

"Shut it, HUE!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

“My lord, Captain Avocato intends to be at the base tomorrow.”

“I believe that's your problem to solve, General Viro.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Gary was up after four calls and three alarms. Mornings not being his thing, he stumbled around and tried to remember where he'd put his comm unit (the refresher, to force him to get out of bed) and how to turn off each alarm.

"Wake up, Gary," ordered HUE. "It's 0520."

"Nyaaa-agghh."

"That is not a complete sentence, Gary," HUE lectured. "Try again."

"Mehhhbuh."

"That either. On your feet. You need to meet Avocato."

"Guh- Shut it, HUE!"

"Huzzah. That is a complete sentence. Time for a shower. Make sure you brush your teeth."

"Hate . . . morning."

"You need a subject in that sentence."

"Hate is a subject," snarled Gary, heading for the shower. He slammed the door controls for emphasis.

"Go get 'em, tiger," said HUE to the empty room.

Half an hour later, he was fidgeting with his uniform as he waited at the entrance to the officer's canteen. He was early, but he was also nervous, wondering what he'd do if Avocato didn't show. Not many people were up and about yet, so he didn't draw much attention. He needn't have worried. It was easy to spot Avocato as he approached, looking sharp in his uniform and with two tall metal mugs of coffee in his hands. With a faint smirk, Avocato offered one of the mugs, saying,

"I made it just how you like it."

Gary grinned in return, recognizing the quote, and appreciating the humor behind it as he took the mug. It was newly purchased, probably at whatever coffee shop Avocato frequented, and undoubtedly expensive. It also matched Avocato's. Hoping there was some unsubtle message in that, he took a sip and closed his eyes to enjoy the rich flavor of coffee balanced with cream with a hint of sugar.

"Perfect," he sighed, meaning it. Looking at the faint smile of satisfaction Avocato wore, Gary suddenly wanted very much to lean in close and give Avocato a kiss of thanks. Right here. Now. On the mouth. A coffee-flavored kiss, as rich and sweet as the drink in hand. Gary's mind flashed forward to a scene worthy of a romance vid where they were passionately entwined and somehow it was raining indoors. Fearing he might say something extra stupid, he quickly took another sip to keep his lips otherwise occupied. Did Ventrexians kiss? On first dates, at least? Please? He cleared his throat, banishing all non-reality thoughts to the back of his mind. "Now this is a good morning."

"It'll be better with some food in us," said Avocato, gesturing. "Shall we?"

Without so much as a glance needed between them, Gary and Avocato mutually ignored the dead silence that fell as they entered the canteen, their attention only on each other as they quietly talked about nothing in particular. Since the fateful night at the Launch Pad, they had not once been seen together even though they had been at the forefront of every news company in the sector. What was more, despite being auxiliaries of the Tera Con military and the most formidable fighters serving, no love was lost for Ventrexians here in the heart of the Infinity Guard's greatest stronghold. Avocato in particular was hated as much as Gary was loved.

Their presence was so completely unexpected that they were halfway through the chow line before the handful of junior officers present thought to record them or take pictures. Since this was not a secure area of the base, they couldn't prohibit anyone from filming them. At least, not until they sat down to eat.

Faced by gawking awe from every quarter, it suddenly dawned on Gary that sending shock-waves was exactly what Avocato had intended by strolling through the base so brazenly. On the verge of laughing at such gall, Gary leaned in close to whisper,

"You did this on purpose."

Nodding his thanks to the Hooblot server handing him a plate of eggs and meats, Avocato smiled, his sharp teeth on display as he lifted his tray.

"Maybe," was all he said.

They sat in a corner against the wall, as removed as they could be in the cafeteria. Anyone who sat close by would stand out as an obvious gawker or eavesdropper.

"I take it Sir John made it home safely," Avocato said, removing the plates (including a full bottle of hot sauce snagged from the array of condiments) from his tray and setting it aside. Gary sat opposite him and followed suit. He didn't want to appear unmannered next to Avocato's polished self. The hour might be uncivilized, but he didn't have to be.

"Yes. I had a long talk with him and my mom last night."

In a subtle move, Avocato tapped the device on his wrist, granting them privacy from any electronic devices, cameras included. They still had to be careful, but if they kept their voices down they could talk pretty freely. Gary watched in surprise as Avocato doused his eggs in hot sauce, producing a smirk out of his date.

"Mess hall food is so bland," said Avocato, setting the half-empty bottle aside. "Did you tell him everything?"

"Almost," said Gary, tucking into his omelet. "I omitted a few, uh, personal misgivings. The ones not about you."

Avocato nodded his understanding. Doubt in the Lord Commander was not a safe topic.

"And what did he have to say?"

"He confirmed a lot of your opinions from when we went dancing. He says it's a complex situation, and there's no simple or easy solution. Including . . . " He gestured with his fork, looking for a way to explain it without saying it and confident that Avocato would grasp his meaning. "Well . . . us."

"They didn't approve?" asked Avocato softly.

"They can't. For a lot of reasons."

He was looking into those yellow eyes as he spoke, and Gary would have sworn he saw a flash of hurt disappointment cross Avocato's face. It was there and gone – if he hadn't been watching, he never would have seen it. Avocato looked down briefly, recovering from a hope dashed, and nodded, softly saying, "I anticipate my mother having similar misgivings."

A need to reassure prompted Gary to add, "I'm not saying it's completely off the table. It's not because I won't let it be. I can be as stubborn as both my parents combined. They're loving this peace, too, and they want it as much as we do. Maybe even more." He managed a smile. "Dad suggested we slow down the Gifts Given. Take our time. Build our fan base."

Avocato slowly cut a piece of steak, giving himself time to think. "The Silverwing's refit will take just a few more days. Then I'll be sent back on patrol."

"That reminds me. Dad thinks you might be safer on your ship."

"Probably," he agreed. "I can stay there tonight, but my mother will be here tomorrow. I can't leave her alone in the apartment."

"Damn," muttered Gary. "We'll figure something out."

Avocato smiled at being babied. "I'll be fine, Gary."

It took Gary a long moment to absorb what he'd just heard. Shocked, he fell back in his chair, gaping at Avocato in delight.

"What?" he squawked.

Amused at such an extreme reaction, Avocato gave a little shake of his head. "I said I'll be fine."

"No, no, no! After that! The 'I'll be fine' chaser."

Avocato blinked. "Gary?"

"Yes! My name! You said my name!"

"Yes," he confirmed with a frown. "Am I pronouncing it correctly?"

"You're pronouncing it at all!" cheered Gary. "I wasn't sure you knew how! Say it again!"

"It," said Avocato, deliberately obtuse.

"Oh," Gary exclaimed softly, his eyes narrowing. "Oh. Okay, Mister." The 'Whiskers' was heavily implied. He displayed his fork with a chunk of golden-brown potato on the tines. "If this wasn't crisp and delicious, I would so throw this home fry at you right now."

"I'd catch it," swore Avocato just as smugly, fighting to contain himself. "Baby."

They stared. They glared. They growled. They bristled. A second later, they both burst out laughing.

Abruptly, Avocato looked horrified. "Oh, no."

"Wh-what's wrong?" pressed Gary, alarmed. He reached out and gripped Avocato's wrist.

"We're giggling in a cafe," said Avocato.

Gary stared. Then he started laughing so hard he was wheezing and pounding on the table.

A murmur and a hiss of shushing whispers caught their attention. Gary and Avocato paused, then turned to blink at the cafeteria. A single ring of tables around them had been left empty, but beyond that, the canteen was packed to capacity with Infinity Guard officers, all of them fixated on the two captains and straining to catch a word of their quiet conversation. They had been so absorbed in each other that they hadn't noticed.

"Hey, Gary, louder for the people in the nose bleeds!" yelled a voice.

"Don't be so freaking cheap next time, Derek, and get a ringside seat!" Gary shot right back. He shook his head, wiping away tears and returning to his breakfast, as annoyed as embarrassed as amused.

Avocato lifted his mug of coffee with a smile. "To next time, then. Gary."

He froze. Next time. What a wonderful, new concept. A smile crept across his face.

"I'll drink to that," agreed Gary, lifting his own mug, and taking a sip. He sighed in appreciation of the hot coffee and the young man who had gotten it for him. "Ah. That's the good stuff."

Despite the situation, their audience, and all, this was the best date ever.

Chapter Text

They talked and ate (and laughed and flirted) for almost an hour and a half, keeping to their corner of the officer's canteen and ignoring all the gawkers. Finally, a colonel who wanted to enjoy his breakfast and didn't give a damn about Garycato chased their audience away, and the colonel, and Gary and Avocato, were able to finish their meal in peace.

"Walk me to the simulators?" asked Gary as they collected their plates. He knew it came out as silly and needy, but he wanted to make this moment last.

"If you'll carry my coffee while I get the trays."

The offer made him ridiculously happy. "Deal."

Avocato dropped the dishes off with a cleaning robot and followed Gary to the door. Gary's presence kept a lot of tongues in check. Gary knew perfectly well that most of the people in here would love nothing more than to beat Avocato flat if they could. Fortunately, they were smart enough to know they couldn't. Even in the Infinity Guard, Avocato had a hell of a reputation for his fighting skills. He was a top-notch martial artist, too, and even the Infinity Guardsmen had to admire his thimbles playing.

Holding the door, Gary watched as his Ventrexian date just sauntered through the crowd of haters as coolly as if he was walking through the Silverwing. Damn, that was hot.

Side-by-side, they walked slowly from the canteen to the hangar housing the simulators, keeping to the pathways and ignoring all stares. Mindful of his injured leg, Gary let Avocato set the pace. The day was cool and cloudy, and the breeze smelt of rain. Gary found he rather liked having such a tall, confident figure beside him. Suddenly he could understand why his mother was always so much happier and more animated when his father was home. A handsome powerhouse at his side was a definite confidence boost completely different from the swagger that accompanied being a fighter pilot.

He saw the hand reaching for Avocato's shoulder a moment after Avocato himself moved. Avocato's hand shot straight up, seizing the Delgan officer by the wrist before the bluish humanoid could touch him. Almost casually, Avocato bent the man's back towards him, his grip crushing tight as he held the Delgan in a wrist lock. The Infinity Guard officer staggered and hissed in pain, crouching low to relieve some of the pressure on his arm.

"Was there something you wanted, lieutenant?" Avocato asked, speaking slowly and clearly, as if to an idiot.

"You got a lot of nerve showing up here!" hissed the Delgan.

"Not as much nerve as you have for attempted assault on a superior officer," was the calm reply.

Furious, Gary stepped in, leaning close to the man. "Lieutenant Chorrie, isn't it? You're going right from here to your CO and putting yourself on report for assault on a superior and conduct unbecoming an officer. Then you're going to explain to your captain in detail exactly why you thought it was a good idea to cross an officer of the Tera Con Empire. If I don't see your name on the lists by noon, I'll be sending some MP's to arrest you. Understood?"

Chorrie looked defiant until Avocato stood straighter. The slight shift was enough to reduce the Delgan to the picture of compliance.

"Yes - sir," he gasped, writhing to find a comfortable angle. "R-right away. Sir."

Gary gave it a few seconds, then said, "Captain, please let him go."

With a shrug, Avocato complied. "For you," he said casually. Chorrie staggered, massaging his hand, and slunk away quickly.

"Sorry," said Gary.

Avocato shrugged again, unconcerned and unruffled, and gestured with his coffee for them to keep walking to the hangar. "I was honestly expecting worse than this in the canteen. I'm surprised I made it out without even one dust-up."

"Is that disappointment I'm hearing in your voice?"

Avocato was amused. "I'm Ventrexian, Gary. We live for action."

Gary swallowed, then struggled to clear his throat as his mind beelined for the gutter. "Um . . . care to define action?"

Amusement cascaded into wicked pleasure, and Avocato smiled. "Nope."

"Wait! Are - are you flirting with me? Is this, like, how you flirt on Ventrexia?"

"Do you mind?"

"NO!"

He clapped a hand over his mouth as he felt himself blush red. People stopped all around them at looked over, startled at the outburst. Gary took a second to orient himself again, and cleared his throat before addressing Avocato.

"I mean - no. No, I do not mind that you're flirting. In fact, I heartily encourage and endorse all forms of flirtation coming from you, directed at me."

"Good. I wasn't sure if it was working."

"Oh, it's working, pal. Believe me. Hell, just showing up in those boots is enough to send my blood pressure spiking."

Avocato looked down at his knee-high boots of gleaming black leather. "Good to know," was the smug answer.

"Oh, you are way too pleased with yourself."

"I could stop."

"Don't you dare."

"If we're going for verisimilitude . . ."

"Verisimilitude my ass! This is real! This is the real, raw Gary."

For a moment, Avocato blinked at him, clearly trying to figure out what the hell he'd just been told and how to interpret it. He had seen Avocato smile before in a variety of situations, but the look he gave Gary at that moment was something special, not for everyday use, but something earned. It was quiet, soft even, and completely genuine, a blend of amusement and pleasure and affection. Not part of their plan to preserve the truce, but . . . real feelings. The big, complex ones that made life messy. Gary was seeing the depths of Avocato's heart, not the polished facade he put on display for the rest of the universe. Tenderness shone in those yellow eyes, caring, and the sight caught Gary like a bolt out of the blue. He stopped mid-laugh to stare as his brain caught up to his heart and he realized what he'd said.

This is real.

It really was.

Crap.

He was in love with Captain Lord Avocato of House Cato.

Crap.

He'd known this was coming. It was him. It was inevitable. But why did he have to pick the least romantic spot on the planet fifteen goddamned minutes before he had to report for duty for the big reveal?

Gary had thought he'd put it all out there, but with one look, a hint of a smile, Avocato had spoken volumes without saying a single word.

And that look . . .

Was it possible that Avocato loved him, too?

"Gary?" Avocato questioned, his voice quiet and concerned at the sudden shift in moods.

Wait - he still had fifteen - fourteen minutes now. Gary gave himself a little shake, blinking rapidly. The situation called for less conversation and more action.

Because, apparently, Ventrexians lived for action. And Gary could totally get behind that stance.

"There's - there's something I gotta say to you, Avocato," he stammered, years of diction classes going right out the window in his haste. Knowing he couldn’t be late without risking the wrath of Major Eevik, he set the timer on his comm unit. Five minutes to get to the simulator ought to suffice. That left him nine minutes to get this off his chest. "Alone."

Avocato glanced around. No one was close by. "More alone than this?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Super alone. Just you and me. Fan club free zone alone."

Avocato, by this point, just rolled with Gary's unusual word choices. "You mean private? Is there somewhere we can go?"

Where could they go? Somewhere to hide from cameras and people and –

"Uh, this way."

He grabbed Avocato's sleeve at the wrist and drew him down a rarely used path to a side maintenance door on the hangar. The door opened for his ID, and he hauled Avocato inside and closed the door behind them. There was a supplies closet Gary knew about because once upon a time, Half-Lieutenent Goodspeed had been sent on a wild goose chase looking for a four-pack of reverse-action tittlepops, and he'd been too keen to prove himself to realize there was no such thing.

These back halls were dusty and saw almost no traffic. Still gripping Avocato's sleeve, Gary tugged him along to the supply closet. Luckily, it was open, and in they went. The room was cool and dark, with rows of dark shelves. The only light coming in from a small and grimy window set high on the wall in the corner. Not the ideal spot for what Gary had in mind, but at least he could lock the door and ensure they wouldn't be interrupted.

By now he figured Avocato was thinking he was about to be murdered or something equally exciting. In the dim light, he could see those sharp ears erect with curiosity and alertness.

Suddenly dry-mouthed, Gary swallowed as he faced Avocato squarely. His voice was a little rough as he said, "So, there's something I've got to say to you."

Avocato waited expectantly, intensity in every line of his stance as he kept his gaze locked on Gary's face. "Yes?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but ended up staring at Avocato's pink nose and those yellow eyes. Why did he have to be so handsome?

"I . . ."

There were no words.

"I . . ."

Screw it. No words. Just deeds.

He moved. Reaching forward, Gary laid hold of Avocato's uniform tunic and yanked him in, his mouth opening to meet Avocato's lips as he pressed his body close to the Ventrexian's. For one heartbreaking beat he thought he'd messed up, but then Avocato's arms were crushing him tight. Powerful hands slid up his waist, his back, a faint touch of claws teased his neck before Avocato was running his fingers through Gary's hair. Avocato's lips were hot against Gary's, and a faint smell like musk filled his senses.

For a moment, he just let himself feel. The hot, wet mouth pressed hard against his, the faint brush of fur against his lips and face. Strong arms, a comfortable weight, twined around his back and neck. Rock-hard body, long and lean. Heavy fabric and trim beneath his hands. Avocato was hot – literally, his body temperature was higher than a human's, and Gary could feel the difference in that burning hot kiss and in the solid frame beneath his hands. How had he not noticed that before?

Sweet galaxies, he was kissing Avocato. What was more, Avocato was kissing him back. Hard, hungry. They were trying to devour one another. Please . . .

Without releasing the kiss or his hold, Avocato twisted about, walking Gary back three steps to pin him bodily against the wall. It was like dancing without music. A wild, seductive dance that moved to the beat of their racing hearts. Dust showered down on them, but to hell with clean uniforms. The only thing that mattered was Avocato pressing full-length against Gary, grinding against him, desperate to get closer. And Gary was just as desperate to press every inch of himself against Avocato.

It was like jumping into space, suspended for a moment with all of creation spread out before him.

Only this time, Avocato had jumped with him.

His groping hand slid down Avocato's back. A jolt shot through Avocato's body as Gary's fingers wrapped around that fabulously long tail, and the ferocity of the kiss increased.

Now wasn't that interesting . . .

Gary opened his mouth to allow Avocato's probing tongue entry. Who cared about alien germs when he was making out with the sizzlingest thing on two feet? Bring 'em on. It was worth it to be French kissed by a Ventrexian, because goddamnit, that was a talented tongue. Could he return the favor? Without bleeding? Probably not, not without practice dealing with those razor-sharp teeth.

Challenge accepted. Something to look forward to. Practice made perfect, after all.

The caress drove him to a feverish pitch. Gary's hands had just drifted to Avocato's gloriously pointy ears when the alarm on his comm unit rang. They both jumped, having completely forgotten about the whole of reality beyond each other, and drew back but not apart, staring at one another in astonishment. Astonished at what they had done, at what they were doing, at whom they were doing it with, at what they were both feeling. Disheveled and panting, they gulped the stale, dusty air, neither man willing to move away. Avocato leaned in again, turning his head to kiss Gary when –

The alarm went off again.

"Damnit," hissed Gary, knowing he couldn't delay. "I – crap!" Flustered, he grabbed Avocato and planted a fast kiss on him, then held the Ventrexian at arm's length. "I gotta go. I – what I wanted to say before, Avocato-"

In a total daze, Avocato blinked, trying to ground himself. "That wasn't it?"

"No. No, I . . ." He looked down for a moment, collecting himself before looking back into those yellow eyes. It was now or never. Time to prove what he was made of. "I love you."

Avocato froze, eyes wide and staring and with a look of amazement on his face. Finally, in a soft voice, he said, "You do."

It wasn't a question.

Panic began to fill Gary as Avocato kept staring. Was this unwelcome? Somehow insulting? Was Gary totally wrong in his analysis of the situation? Was he –

Surprise turned to awe and gentle hands rose up to hold his face. "That's . . . more than I could ever have hoped," said Avocato, sounding as if his every wish had just come true.

A veritable tsunami of relief swept Gary right back into Avocato's hold for another kiss, their first real time, in-love ki-

"Crrrrrrap!" whined Gary as his alarm went off a third time. "For realsies, I have to –" He slapped a hand to his head, realizing. "Oh, god, gotta get you out of here, too. Um . . . come on."

Chapter Text

"Captain Avocato?"

Avocato stilled at the unfamiliar, computer-generated voice and the supremely unwelcome interruption. Since he was technically on duty, Avocato had gone to the base's comm center to access a secure channel to catch up on reports and administrative duties. The Silverwing's upgrades were almost complete, and then would follow the minor headache of resupply and a shakedown before they would collect their errant crew and be redeployed. Avocato was looking forward to getting out of the public eye and well away from the Lord Commander, but he was in no way looking forward to separation from Gary or a long-distance courtship.

That was his excuse. In reality, his mind was replaying the scene in the supply closet, kisses that tasted of coffee, and all the things that might have happened if only Gary wasn't on duty.

Because oh, the possibilities . . .

Gary had sneaked Avocato into the simulator room, so when the Dragonhawks filed in for a training session, their captain was already there, casually leaning over one of the simulators as he explained a few functions to Avocato. They looked up as if surprised, even though they had gotten there mere seconds before the fighter pilots and had thrown themselves into the roles. Gary had introduced Avocato to Major Eevik, and, familiar with Tokage etiquette, Avocato had managed to charm the major - who was clearly predisposed to hate him - by reciting their traditional greeting, along with the appropriate bows and honorifics. That had left the Dragonhawks, who had clearly been looking forward to the major lacing into Avocato, completely out of sorts and muttering amongst themselves in consternation, much to Avocato's satisfaction. His leg was still killing him, and these uniform boots would take months to break in. Gary's friends or no, Avocato was far from being in a forgiving mood, especially towards Gary's wing man, Derek.

Since the Silverwing's reports were his business alone, he closed the screen before turning to the speaker. A Tch*koor in an Infinity Guard lieutenant's uniform stood a respectful distance behind his chair. Her four wings shifted and fluttered nervously as Avocato rose, and her many-faceted eyes reflected the light at odd angles. He was easily twice her height, but he did his best not to be intimidating.

"Yes?"

"Captain Avocato," she repeated, her actual voice an indistinct buzz rendered into Galactic Standard by the translator she wore on her collar, "your presence is requested."

He could not help but arch an eyebrow at her, as if he'd just blithely follow her anywhere.

"And you are . . . ?"

Her wings moved so fast she actually rose into the air for a moment. "Lt. *Po," she clicked, then added, "Sir."

"And by whom is my presence requested, lieutenant?"

More fluttering, more buzzing, and she leaned forward to say, "The Captain of the Guard, Sir John Goodspeed."

He had to steel his expression to keep from reacting as his good mood vanished. He had not expected to face Sir John until the audience with the Lord Commander, with his mother and perhaps Nikos for support. He shouldn't be surprised. The Captain of the Guard was only doing what he had done when he surprised Gary at Launch Pad, or when he and Gary had been summoned by the Lord Commander - cornering the enemy and getting a feel for what to expect out of them.

"Requested or ordered?" he clarified.

"Requested, sir."

As if he could refuse, though he was tempted to try. Avocato very much wanted to sort through and consider his emotions after . . . after . . .

I love you.

He hadn't said it back. He should have. Because if what he was feeling for Gary now wasn't love, then love was overrated, and this was something far greater.

But he needed time, a chance to stop and think and gather his thoughts. He needed to ponder his feelings and understand everything that had happened. He had to wrap his brain around the fact that Gary Goodspeed loved him. And he loved Gary back. Why hadn't he said it aloud? What were they going to do? He also needed a chance to just be, to stop and catch his breath without being expected to perform for watchful eyes. His plan had been to return to his family's apartment and hole up until his mother arrived, but it looked as if his time for personal reflection was being put in a holding pattern again.

For a long moment, Avocato just stared at the lieutenant, not caring how anxious he made her. Tch*Koors were delicate insectoids, nervous by nature but even more so when faced by predator species. Finally, seeing nothing else for it, he suppressed the urge to sigh and said,

"Give me a moment, lieutenant."

He turned his back to her and activated his comm unit, switching to speak in Ventrexian as he said, "Nikos, I'm at the Infinity Guard base."

"Of course you are," was the thoroughly judgmental and instantly fed-up response. The image of his first officer frowned in displeasure at Avocato exposing himself so in what Nikos classified as enemy territory. "Alone, I assume."

Nikos knew him too well. "I met Ga- Goodspeed for breakfast. We had to talk."

"Of course you did."

"Quiet," he grumbled, knowing he deserved the dig and the glower and perfectly aware his conduct was pissing off his best friend. He was going to pay for this. "A Tch*Koor by the name of Lt. *Po is escorting me to meet with the Captain of the Guard. If you don't hear from me before noon, call Gary."

"You mean Captain Goodspeed?"

"Him, too. Avocato out."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I'm not unaware of the high degree of trust you've put in me by coming here, Captain."

"With all due respect, Sir John, you've given me no reason to trust you."

John Goodspeed conceded the point gracefully, able to see things from Avocato's point of view. An invitation from someone of his rank was as good as an order. Nonetheless, it meant a lot that Avocato had come to him. Getting here was a bit of a headache, with multiple checkpoints and security checks, and John knew his generals and admirals were thoroughly browned off at being put on hold so the Captain of the Guard could indulge in personal business. The ranking officers had their own informants and they all knew what this was about. John could not help but be impressed, however. Avocato had literally walked into the lion's den. To show up on the base alone, and then to stride into the Infinity Guard's command center took courage few men possessed, and he'd done it with his head held high and no outward sign of concern.

"Perhaps trust isn't the right word. Thank you for indulging me, then."

"I'm here because I've learned to trust your son," Avocato clarified shortly.

"Well, we have that much in common. Will you please take a seat, Captain?"

Avocato had declined the first two times John had offered a seat, but the 'please' was enough to sway the young nobleman. He took one of the plush and comfortable chairs in the sitting area by the windows and sat as stiffly as he had stood. The office was airy and elegant, and for anyone but the son of a grand lord and a princess, very intimidating.

"Please understand, I asked you to come here not as the Captain of the Guard, but as Gary's father. I would have preferred somewhere less official, but this is the only place on base I'm assured absolute privacy." As he spoke, John circled around the large desk and took the chair opposite Avocato. He had never met his enemy's son before, but he could not help but be impressed by Avocato's poise and bearing. John knew quite a lot about him, of course, especially his military service, which was impressive. Avocato was a good leader and a good captain, loved by his crew and his superiors, focused, intense, top of his class at Ventrexia's best military academy, and a decorated soldier. On a personal level, he was smart, handsome by any standards, and according to Gary, surprisingly personable, a great dancer, and not nearly as tedious as expected. He wished now he had asked Gary more about Avocato on a personal level. While he had wanted to meet the other party in this supposed courtship, this was far sooner than John anticipated or wanted, but he did not know when Avocato would be redeployed and could not afford to waste this chance. The situation brought about by the rumor was so overwhelming and immanent that he had ignored the smaller details.

And now the not-so-small detail was seated close by, a fiery, hair-trigger powerhouse of tooth and claw refusing to be ignored.

"Are you informed of every captain that comes on base?" asked Avocato sharply. "Or just every Ventrexian?"

John resisted the impulse to snap at such temerity from a lower rank and a Cato, but he deserved the hostility and the question, which hit a hell of a lot closer to home than John would have liked to admit. He had done absolutely nothing to earn this man's respect and trust, and he had started off this meeting by putting Avocato at a distinct disadvantage. The first move had to be his. "I asked to be notified if you came onto the base. I was hoping for an opportunity to speak with you. If you hadn't come today, I was planning on sending an invitation to your ship. I'm sorry if my request caught you off guard."

Avocato eyed him warily. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted," said John, bracing himself.

"You asked me here not as Captain of the Guard, but as Gary's father. We both know you're a lot more than that to me." You are my sworn enemy went unsaid but was understood. "I came to your base today because Gary needed to talk and had no confidence his quarters hadn't been bugged." He paused, letting the implication sink in that the Infinity Guard could not trust its own people. "What assurance of privacy do I have during this interview? How do I know my presence here now or anything I say won't be turned and used against me or my house? Or against your son?"

Oh, he was sharp, this young man. Sir John could not help but smile wryly. "Gary said you're as smart as a whole stack of Ventrexians. He also said you wear a privacy shield. Use it now, if you have it."

Without hesitation, Avocato activated the device on his wrist. Then he waited expectantly.

"As for the rest, I can only promise to keep what's said between us, between us. And Gary if you choose to tell him. I won't discuss this with him without your permission. Not the word of an officer or the Captain of the Guard, but the word of a knight given to the son of a noble house. And if that's not enough, the word of a father who would do anything to protect his son . . . and the one his son cares for."

John had no notion of what store Avocato would put in these assurances. Still, this Ventrexian had made one leap of faith with Gary. Even if the initial motivation had been desperation and fear, John could only hope Avocato had the courage and enough trust in Gary to take another leap now.

A very long silence followed as Avocato carefully considered the offer and his position. Finally, in a tone that clearly promised nothing, he asked, "What is it you want?"

"I want to talk about you about my son. How much of all this is real?"

Avocato frowned. "What do you mean? It's all real, Sir John."

"No, I mean . . . Gary told me and Lady Sheryl everything you two discussed and planned. I know you both agreed to present a front to preserve this truce. I . . . I just don't want Gary hurt when this is all over."

Avocato stared at him, his mind playing catch up with what John was trying to say. A look of sheer disgust crossed his face, and he rose to his feet.

"You presume a great deal about me and Gary, sir," bristled Avocato, fully offended and struggling to keep his fury in check. "Do not project your biased expectations upon me. He was the one who first suggested we put up a front, and I agreed to keep my family and friends safe! How dare you insinuate that simply because this relationship was hoisted upon us that I'm playing some sort of game with your son's affections."

He realized a moment too late that his question had come out completely wrong, and that he'd made assumptions based on personal history and not facts. That he had not taken the possibility of Avocato being hurt into consideration. Sheryl's voice, dripping with sarcasm, echoed in John's head: Nice one. Stepped right in it, Johnny. With both feet. What will you do for an encore? Insult his mother?

A groan escaped John Goodspeed. He closed his eyes and raised both hands, trying to placate the understandably touchy officer standing in his office. "I - I'm sorry, Captain. I chose my words poorly. That's not what I mean to imply at all."

His guest wasn't having that, apparently.

"Isn't it? Is it so distasteful and impossible to you that your son might have genuine feelings for a Ventrexian?" spat Avocato. "We are so reprehensible, after all. Just ask anyone on this base. In your son's squadron, even. What are some of the charming nicknames you use for us in the Infinity Guard? Pussies? Purr Patrol? Litterbox Legion? I won't even touch on the vulgar ones. That's how you allow your soldiers to treat their allies? Do you know what we call you on Ventrexia? The Infinity Guard. You're not worth our efforts to belittle."

"Cap - Avocato. Please. I apologize again. Please . . . let me . . ." He sighed. Avocato was not wrong. Thanks to the war between their families, Ventrexians in general were given little regard and less respect in the Infinity Guard. And John had to confess, he hadn't done anything to combat that attitude. But this was an officer who practically destroyed his own ship at Pangist III to save two damaged Imperium battle cruisers. And how had they thanked him? By mocking him because his ship needed to be towed. Avocato's ire was justified, and John knew the Infinity Guard had far to go to make up for their shortcomings.

"Let me try again." He could feel the glare burning through him. Yeah, he could definitely see his son falling for all that intensity. For Gary, it would be irresistible. John gestured. "Take a seat."

"Is that an order, Sir John?"

As sharp as glass, this one. He sighed again, suddenly tired.

"No, Captain. It's not."

Perhaps it was because he'd apologized. Or because he'd admitted to making a mistake. Or maybe Avocato really did care about Gary enough to hear what his father had to say. What mattered was, Avocato resumed his seat. He did not soften the suspicion in his eyes, however. John knew that if he wanted Avocato's cooperation - his respect - he had to do a hell of a lot better and not misstep again. He took a moment to regroup. Why the hell had he gotten so far off track so quickly? He'd sat down with enemies before. Plenty of times. Hell, he'd even sat down with Grand Lord Catomar, Avocato's father, without fumbling this badly.

But you never sat down with one who could steal your son, Sheryl's voice pointed out.

"Let me start again," he said.

Avocato cocked his head. "Would you like me to step outside and come in again?"

He bit back the reprimand that rose automatically in his throat at this snarky question. He had given Avocato permission to speak freely, and it was clear the Ventrexian intended to take full advantage of the privilege. He was pushing to see if John would go back on his word. That was fine. Avocato was young and touchy, but his self-control was iron clad. He was also pissed off and on the defensive, and rightly so, really. It was a dialogue John wanted, so he had to allow the barbs as well as the discourse. For projecting his prejudices onto this young man, for everything he had done and not done, he deserved everything Avocato dished out. Most of it, anyway.

"This situation is . . . rather unprecedented. Let me begin by saying how impressed I am by the way you and Gary have handled it thus far."

After a few long breaths, Avocato unbent a little. "Despite the complications, some of it has actually been enjoyable."

John smiled. It was an opening, and he took it. "I heard you two dance well together, and Gary said he was teaching you poker last night. He was really excited over all the cookies you sent, too."

"Poker is more nuanced than I anticipated," said Avocato. "I would avoid playing against him for anything more than fun."

"Why so?" asked John, genuinely interested.

"His scent changes depending on his hand. I couldn't help but notice it and it wasn't hard to figure out when he had a good or bad hand. That's part of the reason Ventrexians lean towards strategy and zero-chance games over something with odds like card games. Visitors to Ventrexia often complain our casinos have a sweet odor to them, but that's to overwhelm our sense of smell and keep us from cheating."

A laugh escaped him. "I never knew that!"

"So, I would not want to take advantage," concluded Avocato. "Though the game play and strategy are more interesting than winning. At least to me. And watching Gary make faces the whole time."

"Yeah, that always is entertaining," John had to agree. "I understand your mother is arriving on Tera Con Prime very soon. The Lord Commander is expecting both our families in an audience, but afterwards I'd like to extend an invitation to you and your mother to join my family for dinner."

"We don't know what the result of the audience will be."

He shrugged, deliberately doing a bad job of hiding his smile. "Nonetheless. I think some of the outcomes of this situation will be inevitable. I'm sure Gary has told you how enthusiastically the Infinity Guard and Tera Con forces have embraced this cease-fire."

"He has. Ventrexians, too, are for the most part very much in support of it as well. But it was my understanding that neither you nor Lady Sheryl supported the possibility of a union between our houses," Avocato said stiffly.

"Given the situation, as it's been presented and as my wife and I understand it, we can't. It's quite possible that stance will be up for revision after dinner."

Avocato was silent, giving him a long, hard look, hearing all that hadn't been said. Even here, in the one place they were assured of privacy, their conversation danced on the knife's edge of treason. Finally, he said, "I'm sure my lady mother will be delighted to accept your invitation, Sir John, and will be very happy for the opportunity to get to know Lady Sheryl."

Though he had never met Princess MewMew, Avocato's mother, John knew she was a force to be reckoned with, much like his own wife. He had the feeling that once the ladies got past the glaring, upstaging stage, they would get along quite well. An alarming thought, really.

"Just as I appreciate this chance to get to know you, if only a little." John sat back in his chair. "I don't know if Gary mentioned it, but he's coming off of a . . . one-sided romance that ended on a sour note."

"He did briefly mention that when he came aboard the Silverwing."

"Self-expression has never been an issue for Gary," John allowed wryly. He grew serious as he continued. "My son loves easily and deeply, and once he loves someone, he loves them forever. The feelings are sincere, and his dedication is complete. When I spoke to him yesterday, I could see something new in him, too: hope. I've never seen him invest so much expectation and enthusiasm into a relationship before, be it romantic or otherwise. That's something you've given him, Captain, so thank you."

Avocato was still, mulling on this bit of privileged information and wearing a thoughtful, distant expression. Nothing John said seemed to surprise the Ventrexian, and something told him these were conclusions Avocato would have reached on his own if he hadn't already. He wondered what the laughing, relaxed, animated Avocato was like, and how he and Gary communicated and flirted and argued. Most likely Gary started things and Avocato would end them.

Remarkable. Just a week ago, they had been mortal enemies. Now there was a possibility he was looking at his future son-in-law.

"I think . . . what I'm really trying to say is, please be kind to my son, Avocato. For all his faults, Gary is a good man with a good heart."

And they were becoming so rare in this galaxy.

Avocato stirred, then softly said, "I'll confess, this arrangement Gary and I have made has come to mean much more to me than just a truce between our families. As precious as the peace is, he is even more so. Not knowing what the future holds, I can only say to you that I will never deliberately do him harm."

For a long moment, John gazed at this handsome and composed young man who had somehow helped to bring peace and hope and, god willing, an end to this war. What Avocato had just offered was far more than Sir John could have expected at the start of this interview. When he spoke, his conviction was absolute.

"I believe you."

Chapter Text

"I believe you."

Avocato nodded in acknowledgement of Sir John's reply. He was grateful his words had convinced Sir John because he meant them. Gary was precious to him, and he wished once again he had said he loved him as well.

He'd get his chance. The next time they were together, he promised himself, even if it was in the palace before their families met with the Lord Commander. He would pull Gary aside and find some way to say the words. Considering how flattered and satisfied Gary's confession made him feel, Avocato could only imagine the effect those words would have on Gary, on their courtship. The very idea made him want to grin foolishly.

Sir John was talking, and with effort, Avocato refocused his attention on the Captain of the Guard.

"Before I stop monopolizing your time, Captain, I want to ask if you mind if I tell Gary we met."

Avocato considered, wondering what Gary's reaction would be to this interview. Pleased his father was making an effort, most likely. "Please allow me to tell him first, Sir John. I'll speak to him tonight once he's off duty. There are several things he and I need to discuss."

"I'm sure," smiled Sir John. "You'll probably have a chance to speak to him before I will, anyway. Thank you again for coming. I'm glad to have had a chance to meet you before we're summoned before the Lord Commander." As he spoke, he tapped his comm unit. A moment later, Lt. *Po entered the office and waited by the door, shifting anxiously. "Until next time, Captain."

Since it was not an official meeting, Avocato did not salute. Instead, he gave Sir John the short, formal half-bow Ventrexian etiquette required in this situation.

"Sir John."

"Lieutenant, escort Captain Avocato to the lobby." To Avocato he said, "You can pick up the transport back to the main gate or wherever you need to go on base from there."

"Thank you, sir."

*Po gestured, and Avocato followed her nervous flutterings back through several checkpoints and what seemed like endless halls. It wasn't until they were a few minutes into their walk that he realized he'd forgotten his coffee mug with one of Sir John's secretaries. No matter. He'd get it back eventually, or not. Gary could probably retrieve it for him since the odds of him being invited back here were slim. It wasn't worth going back for now. Remembering his orders to Nikos, he checked the time. It was an hour before noon. He would call Nikos but didn't want to risk anyone overhearing his first officer chewing him out, as he was sure would happen. When he got back to the apartment, he'd place the call. He'd still have time and Nikos could yell at him all afternoon if he wanted.

All thoughts of reassuring Nikos vanished and Avocato abruptly stopped in his tracks as he realized something.

"This isn't the way we came in."

*Po froze in place, not turning to face him as she said, "It's the most direct route, sir."

"To where?" he demanded harshly, his every instinct screaming. His hair was standing on end, and her refusal to meet his eye spoke volumes. "Not the front lobby. We didn't come this way earlier, Lieutenant. Where are you taking me?"

She was trembling, her breathing erratic and short, and still, she would not look at him.

He slowed a few steps behind her, alert to anything that might happen. The hall was plain, white on all surfaces like most everything else in this building, and there were no doors visible. A service corridor. Out of sight. Empty save for the two of them. The perfect place for an ambush. Avocato backed away from her, intending to go back and find a main hall where there were people about. His mind was awhirl even as he focused. Had Sir John set him up? Was the whole meeting with the Captain of the Guard a ploy to lure Avocato here, to make him complacent? Was he about to be captured? Killed? Arrested? He dismissed those concerns for later. His priority was getting out of here now.

He turned to run when fire doors slammed shut before him, sealing off the way they'd come. He whirled, activating the distress beacon on his comm unit even as he lunged after *Po. The treacherous little Tch*Koor was trying to escape through a narrow opening in a doorway, but he laid hold of her arm and snatched her back, his claws biting deep into her arm and side. She let out a squeal of pain and panic as she struggled to slip away. The door slid closed, returning to a featureless wall, so he slammed her bodily against it, pinning her with ease and leaving a smear of greenish blood on the white wall.

"Who's behind this? Who are you working for?"

She was trembling in terror, an untranslatable whine rising up from her throat. The lighting suddenly dimmed, casting the corridor into shadows. *Po looked towards the darkened end of the hall as something large moved toward them. Clearly she was supposed to have fled the scene by now, because she was scrabbling desperately to loosen his fingers. With a single, sharp motion, Avocato hurled her into the opposite wall, slamming her face-first into the hard surface. *Po crumbled to the floor, stunned, and he didn't care in the least what happened to her.

He faced the shadows, trying his comm unit but keeping his voice low.

"Avocato to Nikos. Nikos. Answer me!"

Nothing. Avocato took a breath, bracing himself as he changed frequencies. It was a long shot, but he had to try.

"Avocato to Captain Goodspeed. Gary, come in."

Static. His comms were being blocked. He needed help and it wasn't coming. Something was approaching him, though. He could hear movement in the far shadows. It didn't sound like steps per se, more like the rustle of the stiff fabric of a gown or robe. There was another sound in rhythm with it, a shuffling, dragging motion almost drowned out by the rustle. A strange heaviness filled the air, giving him the sense of something unnatural.

"Who's there?" barked Avocato. "Show yourself!"

"Ahh!" whispered a breathless, sing-song voice. "So fierce, the little lover!"

Avocato drew back, astonished as the eerie and skeletal figure of High Helper Hula emerged from the end of the hall. She was the last being he would have expected to see here in the Infinity Guard headquarters. Avocato had more right and reason to be here than she did. What was the head of the Order of the Twelve doing here? He bared his teeth, survival instinct driving him to aggression.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, jerking as if waking from a nightmare. "How dare you try to confine me!"

She glided forward, her hands slowly moving before her as she gracefully manipulated the ring of orbs encircling her. A small laugh, as amused as it was chilling, echoed off the walls and she said, "Trying, captain? We believe we have succeeded."

He hissed and spat, "What do you want?"

Another laugh, and her voice echoed with strange distortions as if the sound was being twisted. The orbs encircling her darted about like hovering birds, examining Avocato. It felt as if a sleepy weight was settling down upon him. "We want our masters to be free. We can only achieve this by feeding them the souls of the fallen. Yours is a strong spirit, captain. Stronger than most. You will help open the door to let the Titans pour in."

With a short huff of breath, Avocato snapped himself back to the moment. He looked at her in revulsion and disgust, shifting to face her squarely. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hula paused beside the crumpled form of Lt. *Po, serenity itself as she looked down at her and then gestured dismissively. "Do not concern yourself with this one," she said, speaking as if to someone with her, though Avocato could not see or sense anyone but the High Helper. "She does not have long before she joins her ancestors. She has served the highest purpose imaginable." As she spoke, she turned her featureless face to Avocato, casting him a rictus stretching of the skin over where a mouth would have been in gross imitation of a smile. "Another soul to feed their hunger. Their endless, burning hunger. They call to us for more, ever more." She reached towards him with a bony gray hand. "You will silence the voices for a moment or two."

He stepped back, shaking his head sharply. Hula's threat jarring him to alertness. He realized a moment too late that she must be manipulating his senses and mesmerizing him. They weren't the only two in the hall – someone was behind him. Hula started laughing at his futile effort to defend himself. Avocato twisted about with a vicious hiss, claws extended to rake who- or whatever was there. His strike came into contact with one of Hula's floating eyes, a gross, moist bubble that spattered warm fluid. She cried out in indignation and pain, but Avocato didn't hear. All he saw was a single red eye shining out of the gloom with a look of pure hatred and a battle-class domin blaster aimed straight at him.

It registered that Viro had intended to shoot him in the back.

A flash of blinding light engulfed him, and then -

Silence.

Chapter Text

Gary Goodspeed was having what was possibly the best day on record. First, and most obviously, was date successfully executed. Things could not have gone better as far as first dates were concerned. They'd met on time, he got excellent coffee and a sweet mug out of it, and he and Avocato had talked and laughed and eaten and enjoyed each other's company. And then, then came that epic kiss and that look of sheer desire on Avocato's face and then Avocato kissed him back harder. If there was anything sexier than being pinned full-length to a wall by a rock-solid Ventrexian in jack boots who was bent on devouring him, Gary absolutely could not imagine what it could be, because damn! That Ventrexian hottie knew how to kiss. What Gary wanted to know – and what his imagination provided in copious and highly detailed fantasies – was how far would they have gone if that damned alarm hadn't gone off.

And then, oh, this was beautiful, Avocato had totally defanged Major Eevik with an elaborate bow and a few words in Tokag. Suddenly, the major wanted to adopt Avocato and classified all the DragonHawks (with the possible exception of Gary, who'd apparently had the sense to court someone with civilized manners) as a pack of drooling boors incapable of saying hello. And following that, Gary racked up the highest score in base history on the simulators for the new F-class L-7 drop driver, leaving everyone in the dust by a long shot.

If he didn't get laid the next time he and Avocato were alone for more than five minutes, there was a good chance he was going to explode.

So, in a complete reversal from the previous night, he was in the best possible mood as he joined his squad during their afternoon lunch break. They piled into the officer's canteen, talking shop and laughing and sharing tips. It was a bit late in the day, but the whole squadron had delayed their meal to watch their captain rack up the points. Despite a huge breakfast, Gary was hungry and looking forward to a chance to eat. To say the least, it had been an active day. He had just set his tray at his usual table over by the windows that he normally shared with his wing man and their gunners when a hand slammed down on his shoulder. He was seized from behind and spun around in one move a moment before he was pinned against the pillar between windows. He gasped, shocked, as claws sank into his shoulders, and suddenly he was looking down at an enraged Ventrexian.

"Where is he?" demanded Commander Nikos, slamming Gary against the pillar again. Despite being a head or more shorter than Gary and seeming to weigh next to nothing, Gary had to stand on his toes and Nikos held him in place with ease. His blue eyes were hard and cold as ice, and his razor-sharp teeth were not nearly far away enough from Gary's throat for comfort.

The incursion of a second Ventrexian in a single duty shift did not go unnoticed, not to mention an assault on their wing commander. Shouts of "Hey!" and "What the beag?" rang out as the Dragonhawks rushed to their captain's aid. Someone reached for Nikos to pry him off, but a savage hiss and growl along with a gesture from Gary warned the pilot off. Despite his surprise and discomfort, Gary knew Nikos would never come here without a damned good reason.

"Where is he?" shouted Nikos again, not in the least concerned about being surrounded on all sides by Infinity Guardsmen.

"Avocato?" asked Gary, as if Nikos gave a damn about anyone else on this base.

"He met with you, then he met with your father, and now he's gone." Nikos was panting in anger. "Where is he?"

"My father – what?" stammered Gary. "Wait – gone? What do you mean?"

It was standing room only in the canteen as the commotion drew a crowd. Everyone was ready to lay into Nikos even though they all knew that small as he was, the commander would take out at least the first rank of attackers. Suddenly a hovering secretary droid, the supposedly useful and functional version of KVN, zoomed into the canteen, a pink light flashing atop its dome.

"Message for Captain Goodspeed! Message for Captain Goodspeed!" exclaimed the robot. "Captain, Commander Nikos of the Imperial Ventrexian Starcruiser Silverwing has been trying to contact you since noon today. There are a total of nineteen calls, five messages, and twelve text messages. He urgently requests that you call him immediately."

Groans all about. Almost two hours had elapsed since then. Typical bureaucracy. Gary glared daggers at the droid.

"Thanks for nothing, you useless pile of junk. Get the hell out of here."

Looking at the bundle of hair and fury that wanted to (and could) rip out his throat, Gary raised both hands and held Nikos' fingers.

"Nikos, talk to me," he begged. "What's going on?"

There was a pause where no one dared move or speak, and Nikos accepted the fact that Gary did not know what was happening. Slowly the Ventrexian stepped back, letting him down off his toes. Gary straightened his uniform, knowing he'd have some nice bruises tomorrow. Damn, this spitfire was powerful. Nikos was still smoldering, tension evident on every line of his body, and the least spark would reignite his temper. Gary had no desire to be in those crosshairs a second time.

"I have to keep my comm unit off in the simulator," he said softly, not looking away from Nikos, able to understand this wrath was fueled by fear. He glanced around at the circle of uniforms surrounding them. This was not the place. "With me, commander. Bluestein, take charge. Tell the major I'll be late."

He turned and exited towards the rear of the canteen, not bothering to look and see if Nikos followed. Fear was gripping him, and he fought to keep his emotions in check as he hurried down the steps. Avocato's warning after meeting with the Lord Commander was running though his head:

"Something bad's going to happen to me before it happens to you."

Crap, crap, and double crap. Had it? He hoped for a silly misunderstanding and overreaction, but in his heart, he knew that wasn't the case.

Nikos' hard boots echoed on the steps, and Gary held the door open for them to exit the building.

"Where are we going, captain?" demanded Nikos, keeping apace of Gary's long strides.

"Comm center," he said, not slowing down. He held up the comm unit on his wrist. "I have to message my dad and anything I send over this isn't private while I'm on duty."

A few minutes later, Nikos stood beside Gary as he logged into a computer in a cubicle set aside for officers to utilize. He paused, biting his lip a moment as he composed a hasty note for his father.

Dad, hate to do this, but this is a Code Hair on Fire. I need to talk to you right now, in private. Gary

Making no attempt to hide the fact that he was reading the message over Gary's shoulder, Nikos frowned at the colorful language.

"Interesting."

"That's the drop everything, come get me now signal," Gary explained softly. "Never had to use it before."

A tiny snort. "Let's hope it works."

They waited in tense silence. After an eternity of almost ten minutes, a message was returned from Sir John.

Gary, this is not a good time. What is this about?

Nikos hissed, but Gary responded immediately.

My boyfriend. He's gone missing.

A minute passed, and then,

Come to my office right now.

"Come on," ordered Gary, signing out and bolting from of the cubicle. When Nikos didn't move, he turned around and found himself on the receiving end of a flinty, assessing look.

Realizing Nikos had no reason to trust him, and that Gary was front and center of an organization and family that were at odds with everything Nikos stood for, Gary stepped back. Addressing the commander directly, Gary said,

"I know I've got a lot to prove with you, but a hell of a lot has changed in the past week, starting with my attitude. Meet me halfway. I want him back too, Nikos."

There was a pause, and then Nikos nodded, committing them both to this course.

"Let's go, captain."

They took the monorail transport that went directly into the command center, to be met with security demanding to know their business. Armed guards stood by the doors, and the staff was very much on edge as Gary explained their presence. There was a sizable stir at the reception desk since they did not have an appointment, did not have clearance, and Nikos was not in the Infinity Guard. Plus, Gary's companion was Ventrexian. While never popular with this crowd, Gary was sensing some outright hostility beamed directly at Nikos. Some heavy, heavy glares were being sent their way as they waited in the lobby.

"Something's happened," Nikos muttered, eyeing the guards with their hands resting atop their guns.

"I've never seen so many armed guards here before," confessed Gary.

"Whatever has them on edge isn't common news on the base." Nikos gave Gary a wry smirk. "These looks are a lot uglier than what I got at the main gates."

Gary swallowed, looking about with growing anxiety. He knew Avocato had to be involved. What had happened?

The elevators opened, and a handsome ensign with perfect uniform and flawless hair approached. He saluted smartly and said,

"Captain Goodspeed? I'm Ensign Flagg. The Captain of the Guard sent me to escort you to his location."

Gary returned the salute, vaguely wondering if the man realized he'd said he was Flag Flag. "We're right behind you."

Flagg hesitated, looking uncertainly at Nikos. "Sir, I have orders to escort you, not anyone else."

Digging his heels in deep, Gary stepped back to stand beside Avocato's best friend. "The commander comes with me, or I don't go, ensign. Go back to my father and tell him that."

"Uh, yes, sir. If you'll excuse me, sir. I'll . . . I'll be right back."

Flagg darted over to the reception desk to use the comm unit. They waited in silence, but Gary got the sense that Nikos' respect for him rose a tick, possibly even out of the red and into the black. After a few frantic calls, Flagg returned, trying not to appear nervous and agitated by the change.

"If you'll follow me, sirs."

Gary was familiar with the route to his father's office, though it had been over a year since he'd been here last. There seemed to be more checkpoints than he remembered, and at two of them the guards tried to start something with Nikos.

"What's another stinkin' 'Trexian doing here?" demanded a burly chief as they approached.

Using a combination of name and rank, Gary had already steamrolled one marine at the first checkpoint who thought it was her job to screen visitors to the command levels. He was quite prepared to do it again. He held out his ID, but the man was busy snarling at Nikos. Nikos, to his credit, just looked up at the man like he was an idiot.

"Way above your pay grade, chief. You going to do your job and check us in or are you going to keep wasting my time? I'm sure the Captain of the Guard will be delighted you made him wait."

The man saw the name on the ID, and, grumbling under his breath, checked them in. Gary watched carefully to be sure he did a thorough job, though the chief deliberately moved slowly and took a full minute to scrutinize Nikos' ID. By the time the ID was returned, Gary was completely fed up with the Tera Con attitude towards Ventrexians. First the Lord Commander, then Lt. Chorrie, and now this prize-winning jerk.

"Ensign, I want that man put on report for disrespect towards superior officers and deliberate insolence," Gary said as they walked down the hall. "Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Finally, they were escorted into the foyer to his father's office. There, three secretaries and a handful of messengers and aids were stationed. It was weirdly empty, what with Sir John back just a day, and the people present were quiet as they hurried about. Gary spotted a metal mug identical to the one Avocato had given to him hours earlier standing on the corner of one of the desks. Nikos followed Gary's gaze, and blinked, seeming to recognize it as well.

"Captain?"

He leaned close and softly said, "Avocato brought me coffee in a mug just like that this morning. He had the same one. That's got to be his."

"They're from a café close to his apartment. They put them on display just a day or two ago if memory serves. I think you're right."

Taking a slow, deep breath, Gary wrestled down the sense of panic that just took up residence somewhere between his heart and his stomach as Nikos said,

"I stopped by the café earlier when I went to check his apartment. They said Avocato had been there when they opened but hadn't returned." He paused, taking small, quick breaths through his nose, testing the air. "He was here."

Suddenly, it was as if Gary had hopped onto the Queasy Express. "You . . . you can smell him?"

"Mmm. And you, and your fear. Ventrexians aren't so in love with technology that we've lost use of our senses."

A new wave of extreme discomfort descended on Gary Goodspeed as his imagination filled in a few blanks. Still whispering, he squeaked, "So . . . can you tell . . . ?"

"That you've kissed?" Nikos rolled his eyes, letting his disgust shine through. "Yes, Captain, I can tell. But I don't need my nose for that." As he spoke, Nikos reached out and plucked something off the front of Gary's uniform, right by his collar. He held up a stiff, teal hair as proof, then flicked it away. "I can smell him all over you."

He stared, unable to close his gaping mouth or stop the little squeak of embarrassment at having been sussed out so easily.

Nikos gave him a look. "Get over it, captain. I've lived alongside Avocato since we were both seventeen, and I've looked out for him that whole time. We've shared everything from food to beds to court martials. Believe me, even if he doesn't realize it yet, he wants to do a lot more than kiss you."

The stupidest sense of happy filled Gary all the way to his toes as his emotions whiplashed from one extreme to the other. It was only a moment before anxiety invaded and took over again, but it was nice while it lasted. He looked down to find Nikos watching him, those intense blue eyes narrowed and . . . resigned. A sigh escaped the Ventrexian, and he looked away, as if accepting the fact that his stupid best friend was as stupid over this stupid human as this stupid human was over his stupid best friend.

"I suppose it's too much to hope you'll cancel one another out."

"Yeah, probably."

They were silent for a while, alert to the comings and goings of a busy office. Finally, Nikos murmured what they both were thinking.

"I thought he wanted to see you immediately."

Gary frowned. This was atypical for his father. "That's what he said."

But he'd also said this was not a good time. The whole building was acting as if they had ants in their pants. Avocato was missing, but only off of Nikos' radar. Avocato had been here, with Sir John, and then . . . somebody had to know where he was. Things weren't adding up.

One thing he did know was that this day was spiraling down from best day ever to some weird, best worst day ever hybrid.

Nikos checked his comm unit. "It's been two and a half hours since Avocato was supposed to call me."

"Crap."

He was about to start dropping names and making demands when they heard voices down the hall. Gary recognized his father's concerned tones as he argued softly with someone. A moment later, Sir John entered with Admiral Stone, two aids, a few officers, and three armed guards. They halted in surprise at the sight of – not Gary, a mere captain here in high command, but a Ventrexian officer.

Another Ventrexian officer.

"Put the whole base on lock down, admiral," ordered Sir John, his eyes on Nikos. His voice and his eyes were cold. "No one enters or leaves here or the space docks. Alpha protocols. Pull the manifests of any departing spacecraft and ground anyone even mildly suspicious."

Lock down? Gary felt himself frown. Whatever had happened was b-a-d bad.

"Oh it, sir," promised Stone. With a nasty glare at Nikos, he gestured for his aid and hurried off, one of the guards following him.

"Wait here a minute, Captain Goodspeed," ordered the Captain of the Guard, letting Gary know how things stood between them for the moment. He and the officers vanished into his office for a few minutes, while the guards stationed themselves in the hall. Gary glanced down, seeing that Nikos was increasingly annoyed and put out by all the foul looks and being made to wait when his captain was missing.

"We're gonna figure this out, Nikos."

"Sometime today, I trust," growled the commander. Gary could not blame him for his rising anger and frustration.

A few minutes later, the officers filed out and at a word from the last one, Gary and Nikos filed in. They found Sir John standing behind his vast desk, leaning on it with both hands with his head bowed, looking weary and troubled. Nikos came to attention, and Gary saluted. With a little growl of frustration, Sir John raised his head and sharply demanded,

"What the hell, Gary?"

Chapter Text

Crap. To the power of crap. His dad was pissed. At Gary, at life, at whatever situation had manifested itself on what should have been just another day at the office. And Gary was not here to help, but to compound the issue.

John took a breath, let it out, and pushed himself upright. "I was told you were accompanied by a Ventrexian officer. I assumed it was Avocato." He focused on Nikos, struggling to get over his error, and managed a fair imitation of manners. "I have not had the pleasure, commander."

Unspoken but heavily implied was Nikos had better identify himself immediately because the greater situation was anything but a pleasure.

Nikos raised his chin and returned the hard gaze he was receiving. As one partaking in the stress of the moment, he clearly chose not to feed it any more and opted for the safety of formality. He saluted in the Ventrexian fashion. "Commander Lord Nikos of House Cordon of Bharata, first officer and exec of the Imperial Ventrexian Starcruiser Silverwing."

Sir John nodded politely, saying, "Captain of the Guard Sir John Goodspeed, commander-in-chief of the Infinity Guard."

"Sir." Nikos returned the nod.

Gary glanced down at his companion, surprised to learn Nikos was a lord like Avocato. He'd gotten the impression that Nikos was a lot rougher around the edges, and he had an accent unlike any Gary had ever before heard out of a Ventrexian.

"Gary, what is this about?" asked Sir John, snapping his attention back to the moment. Gary fought the urge to bite his lip. He was easily distracted at the best of times, which this was not, and knew it was just a nervous habit and delaying tactic on his part. He still wasn't sure if he was talking to his dad or the Captain of the Guard, so like Nikos, he kept it formal.

"Sir, I spoke to Avocato last night, but I wasn't comfortable relaying what I wanted to tell him over comm channels," he said, watching his father closely. Somehow the suggestion that he felt he couldn't trust the Infinity Guard did not surprise Sir John. "He asked to meet me for breakfast today so we could talk. I told him about my sit-down with you and my mother, and what you said about him taking precautions. After breakfast, I showed him the simulators we're training on now, and when my shift started he said he was going to catch up some admin duties for his ship at the comm center."

Nikos shifted. "That tracks. The cafe by Captain Avocato's apartment opens at 0530, and they said he stopped in almost immediately after they opened to get coffee. Around nine I was notified some outstanding reports were approved, along with the ship's payroll and requisition forms I'd submitted. Avocato commed me half an hour later to let me know he was here on base and to say a Tch*Koor lieutenant named *Po had arrived to escort him to meet with Sir John. He ordered me to contact Captain Goodspeed if I didn't hear from him by noon. I did not hear from him."

"My comm was off and I forgot to turn it on when I went to lunch," said Gary, picking up the story and very deliberately glossing over the finer details of Nikos' arrival in the officer's mess. "When he got no reply to his messages, Commander Nikos came looking for me to see if I knew where Avocato was."

Sir John let out a long breath, closing his eyes, the very picture of a headache. "I did meet with Captain Avocato," he confirmed.

When no further explanation was offered, Gary bit the bullet. "Permission to know the nature of this meeting?"

"Denied," Sir John said. He quickly looked at his son and added, "The captain wanted to tell you himself that we had met, and what was discussed. I'll hold to that unless I deem it necessary to break that promise." To Nikos he said, "Rest assured, commander, our discussion was purely personal and has no immediate bearing on military matters."

"Understood, Sir John," was the clipped reply. "Now I ask you, sir, where is my captain?"

"I don't know. We're trying to find him." He braced himself to continue. "The lieutenant escorting Captain Avocato from my office is dead. She was found in one of the service corridors two floors down. Her skull was crushed. The last person seen with her was Avocato."

A few things happened at once. Gary felt his stomach drop all the way back to the ground floor of the building and suddenly his vision was dark around the edges. Besides him, Nikos let out an almighty hiss of fury and denial, instantly demanding,

"Are you suggesting Avocato is responsible?"

The extra security and dirty looks made sense now. Gary had to remind his lungs they were here to take in oxygen and prevent inconveniences, like fainting. This was genuine fear. Going into battle, he was more thrilled than afraid, training and confidence and a loyal squad around him lending courage. There was no training to prepare for instances like this. You went into it raw and did what you could to deal.

As if he expected this exact reaction, Sir John held up both hands for calm. "I did not suggest that, nor do I believe it."

Nikos wasn't done. "And do the people searching for Avocato share that opinion?"

There was a hint of frustration in the Captain of the Guard's voice. "I got an earful already from your captain on that topic, Commander Nikos, and it is being taken into consideration. The people presently searching for Avocato have detailed instructions from me personally. Anyone who harms him will face a court martial."

That seemed to mollify Nikos - a little.

"What time did Avocato leave?" Gary heard himself ask, surprised at how calm he sounded.

"Just before eleven," said Sir John.

"It's been three and a half hours, then," figured Gary. To Nikos he said, "Where would he have gone?"

"Home. His mother is arriving tomorrow. He'd want to be sure the family's apartment was prepared and stocked for her stay. I spoke to his housekeeper, Mrs. DeWinter. He hasn't returned. She's to call me immediately if he does." Nikos' blue eyes narrowed. "Sir John, may I see the hall where this happened?"

When his father hesitated, Gary said, "Sir - Dad - let him. He was able to tell Avocato was in your office, and with me. He might be able to help." When there was no immediate reply, he added, "Please."

Looking supremely doubtful, Sir John sighed. "This way."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The fire doors sealing off the hall had been left closed after the discovery of *Po's body, and Sir John had ordered Admiral Stone to limit the people accessing it to preserve the scene. The three investigators in full hazmat suits getting vids and stills of the scene were very reluctant to leave the task and their leader, even more reluctant to yield the territory to a Ventrexian, and finally had to be kicked out by Sir John. Promising they would disturb nothing and share anything they might glean, the Captain of the Guard turned to find Commander Nikos moving first down the hall, then towards the doors.

"Can you smell him?" asked Gary, eyes on Nikos. "Avocato?"

"He was here," Nikos said, intent on scanning the floor. He moved very slowly, like some predator on the prowl, smelling and tasting the air. "The Tch*Koor was panicking. There's something else. There was something over there." He pointed down the hall. "Something or someone . . . strange. Musty." He made a face. "Like, old, old dead."

"Old dead?" questioned Sir John, trying his best not to sound skeptical.

Nikos pointed at the still-tacky smear of blood left by *Po. "Fresh dead." He raised his other hand to point down the hall. "Old dead. I don't recognize it."

"Old dead." Gary frowned. "Like a reverse birthday? How old is old when you're dead? Like, last week or rotting corpse or mummy old?"

"Closer to mummy than rotting corpse."

A sound of disgust escaped Gary. "Ew. I think I grossed myself out with that one."

"A weapon was discharged," Nikos stated firmly.

"How can you tell?" demanded Sir John, alarmed.

Nikos looked back over his shoulder at him. "I can smell ozone."

By the look on the face of the Captain of the Guard, this was clearly new – and disturbing - information.

"Avocato wasn't armed," stated Gary, who felt authorized to say so, seeing as how he'd had his hands all over him. Not that Avocato would have been allowed on base without multiple scans. Off the firing range, the only ones allowed to be routinely armed were base security. Luckily, no one questioned Gary's statement.

"Are there sensor readings? Security videos?"

"We're looking into it still, but it seems all monitoring systems were jammed," Sir John replied. "Which is telling in itself. Commander, Avocato was wearing a privacy shield. Could it extend as far as the overhead cameras?"

Nikos shook his head, edging closer to the fire doors. "No. The field it emits only extends about two meters in each direction. It's for personal use and not strong enough to reach so far. He probably would have turned it off when he left your office to save pow-"

He froze, eyes wide and every line of his body on full alert as he sensed something. The Goodspeeds waited tensely, not daring to disrupt his attention or trail of thought. They could actually see the hair stand up on Nikos's neck and tail as he sniffed the air, then crouched low.

"Captain, over here. Move slowly," ordered Nikos, gesturing at Gary. "Can you smell it?"

Gary obediently came and knelt beside Nikos, taking a deep breath. He felt a frown crease his brow at the stench. Even faint as it was, it was highly disagreeable.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can. Something . . . sour." He frowned. "And dirty. Kinda . . . locker room-ish," he added, glancing at his father. "Is this the same as the mummy smell?"

"No. I've smelled this before, but I don't remember where," growled Nikos, frustrated with himself. He stood. "I would say there were four people here: the one who smells dead over there, the sour one here, my captain and the lieutenant between them. One of them discharged a weapon, presumably not Avocato or the lieutenant since neither would be armed, and the lack of blaster damage tells me they hit their target at close range. I don't smell anything burned, so it was probably set to stun. You said the lieutenant's skull was crushed, so presumably Avocato was the target."

"Oh, my god," breathed Gary, horrified. If Nikos' theory was correct, the attackers had gotten what they wanted - Avocato.

"Sir John," Nikos said, turning to the Captain of the Guard, "what is this hall used for? Where does it go?"

"It's just a service corridor for the building's storage. The hall only leads to the back stairwell. From there you can get to any level or out the rear exit."

"So Avocato – or these stinky people – could be anywhere," Gary said bitterly.

"Maybe," said Nikos, "but the more security systems you need to jam, the higher the odds you'll make a mistake."

Sir John was silent, thinking. Finally, resolved, he gestured for them to follow him back the way they had come, speaking as they went.

"Commander Nikos, I'm going to ask you to relay all of this, your findings and opinions, to the investigation team. Please give them your full cooperation. I'll send my son with you to make sure they don't try to give you any grief. Meanwhile, I'll have teams search the whole base and spaceport and have all data feeds and security systems reviewed for evidence."

"And then?" asked Nikos.

"Then . . . " Sir John steeled himself. "Then I'll need to speak to Princess MewMew."

Nikos looked up at him with a faint smirk and something akin to sympathy in his blue, blue eyes. "I can arrange that."

Knowing full well what he was signing himself up for, Sir John returned the smirk. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Chapter Text

Gary was running on little more than fumes and adrenaline by the time he and Nikos returned to Sir John's office. The three investigators had grilled them for every detail discovered in the hall. They were rather put off that Nikos had figured out at least one shot had been fired just by smell alone, while it had taken an analysis of the air for them to reach the same conclusion. Their grumpiness at being made to play nice with a Ventrexian gradually morphed into grudging respect, if not for Nikos, then at least his skills as a tracker. Using his senses, he had gleaned as much – if not more – information than they had with all their fancy equipment. They weren't even very upset when Nikos shot down the theory that Avocato could have crushed *Po's skull with a solid enough kick. Since Nikos had purchased the uniform boots Avocato was wearing, he was able to tell them the exact style and manufacture, plus the store that had sold them. The heel of the boots was neither large nor solid enough to match the blow to the lieutenant's head.

They had to wait again to enter Sir John's office – he was on a priority call, one of the secretaries told them. Gary noticed that Avocato's coffee mug was gone from the edge of the secretary's desk. Seized as evidence by the investigators, most likely. Well, it was probably just as well Avocato had forgotten it, Gary figured. The things were sturdy enough to count as bludgeons, and Avocato was accomplished enough at fighting to use anything at hand as a weapon.

There were no updates on Avocato. He had vanished from the security cameras the moment the fire doors in the service corridor closed behind him. Dread filled Gary at the possibilities. He could be dead. He could have been kidnapped. He could have been whisked off planet by one of factions who did not support peace and sold into slavery for all they knew. All they knew right now was that he was not here.

A small sigh beside him told Gary that Nikos was probably even more tired than he was. He jerked his head toward a waiting area set off to the side. "Let's sit."

He sat on a chair, Nikos sat on a couch, and a secretary brought them coffee. Wrapping his hands around the warm mug, Gary leaned forward, quietly asking,

"So, what is Princess MewMew like? I've only ever seen pictures of her."

Nikos gave him an arch look, and Gary gave it right back.

"Listen, until two weeks ago, I'd only ever seen Avocato in person maybe three times and always with a room full of people keeping us well apart. Never met him before the Launch Pad. Now the whole galaxy is waiting for me to marry the guy. Cut me a little slack, Nikos."

The commander relented. "Princess MewMew is the personification of graciousness. She is kind, well spoken, frighteningly intelligent, and incredibly devoted to her family, especially her children. She is also ruthless and has a heart of stone for anyone who would threaten them."

"Hmm. Sounds like the deluxe model of my mom. She's cool and smart and sassy. Guess that's the difference between old money and new, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he prattled on. "Do you think she'll talk to my dad? Like, really talk and not just nod politely at the right moment?"

"She will if I ask her. For the same reason, she will also take his words seriously."

"She trusts you."

"She has every reason to," Nikos replied. "Plus, we're related by marriage."

"Really? So, you and Avocato are cousins or something?"

"Or something. My wife is Lady Cordell of House Cordon of Bharata. Her half-sister is Avocato's third cousin on his mother's side, which makes us the same family by Ventrexian standards."

"Sounds like a nice, big family. You're lucky. So far as I know, I don't have any relations. No rich aunts, no deadbeat uncles, no creepy cousins."

Nikos smirked as he lifted his coffee. "Be grateful for no in-laws. Cordell's half-sister despises me."

"What's her beef?"

"Beef?"

"Issue."

"Ah. Cordata has never forgiven me for existing or catching her sister's eye."

"Sounds like a real prize winner."

"I'm looking forward to not allowing her anywhere near my future children."

Gary chuckled, sipping his coffee, and then grew serious as he softly asked, "Nikos, do you have any idea where Avocato might be right now?"

"Beyond my terrified imaginings? No. Even if he did attack *Po, he would have had an excellent reason to do so, and he would not have run. No. He was taken, though who and why are the most frightening questions."

He lowered his voice further. "This is feeling more and more like a setup."

"You think?" Nikos shot back. "Even before we got wind of this rumor, Avocato was ordered to return here and report to the Lord Commander. Tera Con Prime, where Ventrexians are hated even more than the slaver pirates of the outer rim. And we're your allies. No matter how innocent he is, do you actually think Avocato has a chance of fair treatment on a planet that's the Infinity Guard stronghold?"

Gary blinked, Admiral Stone's hate-filled glare and Von Newton's lesson hitting home. "Whoever's behind this is trying to break the truce."

"Yes. And hedging their bets by having all this happen on your father's watch."

"Crap. On. A. Cracker," he breathed, his brain just about exploding at this revelation. He held his head in both hands, dismayed as a bigger, uglier picture came into focus. Avocato accused of murdering an Infinity Guard officer. His father held responsible for Avocato's disappearance. So many things, and he'd only been looking at a tiny bit of it. "You're right. Everybody's got the perfect excuse to start fighting again."

Nikos leaned in close, his voice barely audible. "And if that doesn't work, Captain, your father can be discredited, and war declared on Ventrexia. If Ventrexia doesn't declare war first for the disappearance of one of her favorite sons."

"We can't let that happen, yo."

"No, we can't."

"We've got to fi-"

"Captain Goodspeed," said one of the secretaries, approaching. "You and the commander can go in now."

Gary nearly launched himself out of the chair. Nikos followed at a bit more sedate pace. They found Sir John sitting at his desk and nursing a headache.

"Da-sir?" said Gary, habit and military protocol at odds in his speech center.

Sir John raised a hand for a few more precious moments of quiet. Gary fell still and silent, studying his father. John Goodspeed was tired and frustrated and . . . worried.

Knowing part of the problem had to be hunger, Gary stepped outside and asked one of the secretaries to send for food service for three people, with emphasis on the meats and to include a bottle of hot sauce. There was an executive dining room in this building, and the kitchen for it was always staffed late into the night for occasions such as this. Gary had the feeling they were not getting out of here anytime soon, so he asked for some coffee as well. Returning to the office, he found Nikos studying a padd and his father shading weary eyes.

"The Lord Commander has been notified of the situation," Sir John announced quietly, eliciting sharp looks from both young officers. He sat back in his chair. "I have increased the number of guards around him and the palace, and this base is on lockdown until further notice."

Feeling it was relevant to their dilemma, Gary asked, "Did he have any reaction or comment to Avocato being missing?"

"Not that he voiced," his father replied. "He is highly displeased, of course. He extended his sympathy to Lt. *Po's family, hopes we find Avocato soon, and is confident I can resolve this quickly."

Gary grimaced. Easy for the Lord Commander to say.

"I don't share that confidence," admitted Sir John, "though I am resolved to see this through and find out exactly what happened and why."

"I just want my captain back," said Nikos.

"And I want a second date," Gary added.

"And I want to get my hands on whoever murdered one of my officers. Since all our goals align . . . Commander, I need to inform Princess MewMew what's happened."

"I'll call her now, sir," Nikos said. "Do you have a secure comm station?"

"Yes. There's a workstation in the adjoining office. Gary knows where it is."

Nikos nodded, looking to Gary to lead the way.

"None of the security cameras detected Avocato on the base after he entered the hallway where *Po was killed," Nikos informed Gary as he sat down at the comm station in the small, well-appointed office. He handed Gary the padd he'd been studying. The display on the padd showed various security feeds from around the base. "A disturbing number of cameras suddenly weren't working at key points."

"Shocking," was Gary's sarcastic response, scrolling through the information.

Still, it was comforting to be reminded they weren't the only ones working this problem. He very much wanted to be out there searching high and low and finding clues, but Gary knew he wasn't suited to the task. He was a pilot, not a detective. They weren't alone in wanting answers and getting Avocato back. If Admiral Stone was in charge, he'd run the problem to ground. Gary didn't particularly care for the admiral. Stone seemed to have forgotten he had ever held any lower rank than admiral, but he was methodical and very exacting. Gary just hoped he didn't try to bend the evidence to fit whatever pet theory he'd come up with to pin blame on Avocato. That look Stone had given Nikos was searing, almost threatening, so there was no way Stone would exonerate Avocato. At least, not without copious amounts of iron-clad proof of innocence or a gun held to his head. Or both.

Nikos was typing at an impressive rate as he called up the Silverwing's comm logs to pinpoint the channel of Princess MewMew's ship. A few more keystrokes later, he looked up.

"There. I've sent a request to her comm channel. It will take a little while to reach her ship and for a reply to be sent, but she'll know it's from me."

"Good. We'll have time to eat. I sent for some dinner."

"I could use it."

A small buffet of hot and cold foods had been set up, and they ate together in the sitting area. They took the opportunity to catch each other up on developments. Sir John detailed the latest report from Admiral Stone. Gary told his father what had happened with the investigation team. For the most part, Nikos just listened. They were almost done with the meal when a chime sounded, indicating a response to Nikos' message. They hastily rose and set their plates aside.

"Would it be prudent for us to be visible?" asked Sir John.

"My message indicated the request was on your behalf, Sir John," Nikos replied. "So, yes. Lady Cato is expecting you."

Sir John accepted the call at his desk with his son and Nikos flanking his chair. The image for the call sprang up at eye level, and Princess MewMew of Hiis, Grand Lady of House Cato, appeared before them. She was so still that for a moment, Gary thought it was a snap, not a video. Then she raised her chin, her golden eyes cool as she took in the Goodspeeds.

Gary could see where Avocato got his eyes and that tilt of his head. Avocato also must have gotten his capacity to intimidate from this woman, because she could give the Lord Commander a lesson.

Sir John knew enough about Ventrexian protocol to give her the first word and waited in silence. MewMew's gaze went to Nikos, and the commander raised both hands in some formal gesture and bowed. She gave him a nod, then returned her attention to the Captain of the Guard.

"Captain Sir John Goodspeed," MewMew said, and her voice was surprisingly sweet. "I understand you wish to speak to me."

"I do, Lady Cato, and thank you for accepting the call," said Sir John. He gestured. "Allow me to introduce my son, Captain Gary Goodspeed."

Another nod, smaller than Nikos', acknowledged Gary's existence, and then MewMew unleashed with a full broadside.

"I believe you know my companion," she said, and the camera panned back to show General Cataloupe standing beside MewMew's chair.

Nikos crashed to attention. Gary felt as if a lead weight dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Crap.

Chapter Text

"Captain Goodspeed."

Though he was confident his expression betrayed no emotions, a long moment passed before Sir John Goodspeed could trust himself to speak, even to just greet his peer. His first day back to the office after an extended deployment had already hit rock bottom low. He'd known today would be spent putting out fires and soothing egos that had gotten ruffled in his absence, but this was unprecedented. The admirals and generals all vying for his time, meeting Avocato and realizing his son really was in love, *Po murdered, Avocato missing, Stone on a rampage, the base locked down, the Lord Commander pissed off at John and Gary and the whole situation, Nikos setting the whole investigation on its ear, and now this. Being faced by two out of three of his family's primary opponents was just the crowning achievement of a record-breaking bad day. He wondered longingly if there wasn't some nice, pitched battle somewhere that needed him.

"General Cataloupe."

Like Avocato, Cataloupe was exceptionally tall for a Ventrexian. Stout of build, immensely powerful and with a mustache that was the envy of the Tera Con Empire, Cataloupe was an outstanding general with a reputation for clever, unexpected tactics and fairness on and off the battlefield. Jovial by nature, sharp of wit, generous when it came to giving praise and sharing credit, he was easy, almost a pleasure to work with when Ventrexia and the Infinity Guard shared a common goal. When they didn't, General Cataloupe was living proof that war was hell, because he brought it to the battlefield like few others.

"At ease, Commander," Cataloupe said softly, and Nikos relaxed a fraction.

Cataloupe was quite possibly the very last person in the universe John wanted to talk to at the moment, especially when he was teamed up with Princess MewMew. The tension radiating off the two young men beside him did nothing to help the situation as MewMew's golden eyes settled on Gary. She studied him in silence for a long moment, and John could feel Gary's struggle not to squirm.

"You are the one courting my son?" she finally asked, and her inflection as she asked was the harshest judgement of all.

"I am, Lady Cato," Gary replied, suddenly looking and sounding as if he'd been dragged over ten yards of pavement. He clamped his mouth shut to keep from saying more, afraid of rambling in front of her and the general.

Her expression was shrewd. "Where did you first meet Avocato?"

Before Gary could stammer out an answer, John spoke up, wanting to spare his son from having to spin another tale. Not only was Gary not good at lying - terrible, in fact -  but Cataloupe and MewMew would see right through any falsehood. Besides, lying to his potential mother-in-law would not be an auspicious start to their relationship.

"Lady Cato, General Cataloupe, that is a question perhaps best left for a setting more private than this."

She understood his meaning immediately, he knew, but still the princess bestowed an arch look upon the captain of the guard.

"As you will, Sir John. I reserve my question for now, but rest assured, Captain Goodspeed, I will be asking it again. Which leads me to my second question: where is my son?"

It was an even more loaded question than she knew, though she evidentially had her suspicions because her eyes bore into John like lasers.

"That is the reason I asked to speak with you," John replied. "I won't mince words. Avocato is missing."

Her cool turned to cold turned to ice. Next to MewMew, Cataloupe's eyes grew wide as red-hot fury filled him.

"One of my captains is missing and I wasn't informed immediately?" he demanded, his fur bristling. His steely glare moved from John to Nikos, whose ears went flat with remorse.

Not about to let Nikos get eaten alive but understanding his reaction, John again stepped in. "This base has been on lockdown since 1430 hours TC Prime time. Internal communications only are allowed. There's no way Commander Nikos could have reported this, nor could he leave the base to do so."

Cataloupe backed down – slightly. "Explain, Sir John."

It wasn't a request.

"There are some details I can't share and some I won't share over a comm channel," he began. "Suffice to say, our sons are in a courting relationship. The details and motivations behind this can wait until we're together to discuss. You're aware of the controversy this has stirred up, as well as the unofficial truce between our forces." John paused, collecting his thoughts. "Captain Avocato met my son here on the base for breakfast this morning. I'm newly back from a two-month deployment, and I took advantage of Avocato's presence to ask him to meet with me. I'll admit I am deeply concerned about the situation, as I'm sure you are, and intensely curious about the young man my son is so serious about."

This was not the time or place to detail Gary and Avocato's plan to present a front to preserve the peace. Especially since the front had become reality.

A tiny nod spoke volumes, as if MewMew understood this desire. John was sure she would have done the same in his place.

"You son impressed me greatly, Lady Cato. He's as formidable off the battlefield as on it."

"Of course he is," snapped the princess. "Where is he?"

John Goodspeed braced himself. There was no way this would go well, and no way to pad the blow he was about to deliver.

"After we met, one of my junior officers was escorting Avocato out when for some reason, they entered a service corridor off the main hall. An hour later, cleaners found the lieutenant dead in the corridor and Avocato was missing. We have been on full alert since and I have teams out in the base and city trying to find him."

Silence. MewMew and Cataloupe stared at him. No one moved or breathed until finally, MewMew blinked. Then she huffed a little laugh and exchanged an incredulous look with Cataloupe. Leaning forward slightly, she said,

"An Infinity Guard officer is dead and my son is conveniently missing? Am I to believe that you did not lure my son to your headquarters in order to accuse him of murder? Isolate him, send your son to entice him, and then arrest him? You ask me to believe he's simply disappeared from your base? This has been a ruse all along. So much for hoping the Captain of the Guard would be true. You disappoint me, Sir John."

"I-"

"The Infinity Guard is responsible for the safety and security of visitors to your base, civilian and military," Cataloupe interrupted. "You are the head of the Infinity Guard. You have allowed an officer in my service to come to harm, and you're preventing another officer from reporting as much!"

He grit his teeth in frustration. Given the Infinity Guard's track record with Ventrexians and the fact that their houses were still at war, the accusations were in no way surprising. Still, the conclusions the general and princess had come to were untrue, and that rankled even if he did deserve their ire right now. It was just his day to get chewed out by every Ventrexian he encountered. John took a breath, keeping his emotions in check. This was not the time to snap back no matter how tempting it may be.

"This is not a ruse, Lady Cato. Captain Avocato is not accused. We have evidence supporting his innocence and he is not under arrest. He is missing, and we are trying very hard to find him."

His words had no effect on their beliefs. Cataloupe looked to Nikos.

"Commander Nikos, until you receive word from me or freely return to the Silverwing, you are to consider and conduct yourself as a prisoner of war. You will not cooperate with or assist the Infinit-"

"Oh, come on!" exploded Gary, leaping to Nikos' defense as much as his father's. "That's uncalled for! The base is on lockdown because someone's been murdered!"

"Captain!" snapped John.

MewMew shook her head at this lack of control. "I suppose it's fortunate we're already at war, Captain Goodspeed. It saves us the trouble of declaring it again."

"You're being completely unreasonable!" Gary protested loudly, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"As you were, Captain!" John said with a growl, giving his son a hard look.

Things were deteriorating rapidly when, most unexpectedly, the lowest rank among them took command.

"Stop it!" snapped Nikos, taking a step forward with anger written on every line of his posture. He hissed a sharp word in Ventrexian that took MewMew and Cataloupe aback. "Quiet! All of you! This petty squabbling is not helping Avocato!"

He turned on MewMew first, sketching a brief bow. "Lady Cato. My lady cousin, your youngest son wants this peace enough to court and be courted by the son of his hereditary enemy. It's unprecedented, but so is this situation, and the emotions driving him are quite real. Avocato wants to be with this man as much as he wants peace. I just want my brother back. General Cataloupe. Sir. You told me yourself at the royal academy that the point of any argument should be progress, not victory."

Thus chastised, princess and general were silent. Nikos turned on the men beside him.

"Sir John, we have a saying on Ventrexia: half a truth is not the truth." Finally coming around to Gary, Nikos planted his fists on his hips before gesturing impatiently with one hand and almost yelling,

"What the hell, Gary?"

Gary made a face, but said nothing. Even if Nikos was well out of line, they all knew he was right.

Nikos let them all share in his glare. "How many times in the past have you been exactly here on the verge of peace, only to give in to your emotions or not question the situation deeply enough when something gets twisted? How many times? You all know this is exactly what the person behind Avocato's disappearance wants." He shook his head, looking between them helplessly. "Why are you giving it to him?"

Then he fell silent, leaving them to reflect on their own conduct – and misconduct. It was a daring choice of words and as close to an accusation of who was pulling the strings as any of them would risk over a comm line. The irony was not lost on John Goodspeed that the lowest rank present was the most mature of them right now. A few moments later, MewMew looked fondly at the young officer, her demeanor considerably calmer and warmer than before.

"Well said, dear cousin Nikos, and I thank you for the reminder."

"I think you speak for all of us, Lady Cato," said John. He glanced at Cataloupe. The general was not so easily mollified, but at least he wasn't offering any counters. Not yet, at least. John made a mental note to – hopefully – ensure Nikos faced no repercussions for insubordination and yelling at a general. Such well-timed nerve was to be commended, not punished, and even John could admit that they had all deserved worse than what Nikos had dished out. MewMew, at least, had seen fit to drop a hearty reminder to Cataloupe. General in the Ventrexian military though he may be, Cataloupe was still a retainer to House Cato.

"Sir John," MewMew continued, her determination evident, "what is our next step in finding my son?"

Chapter Text

Gary stood in one of the nicer sitting rooms outside the throne room, nervously fidgeting with closures on his full-dress uniform jacket. Now that he something to compare it to, he realized the room he and Avocato had occupied for hours had been about as upscale as a dentist office waiting room. Just one more example of the empire's prejudice game going strong and hard. That was definitely the chamberlain being a jerkface, but Avocato had gotten the last word in with her. So there.

Even the cookies were better this time, though still not as nice as the ones Avocato had sent. Gary couldn't bring himself to eat any. Not only was he too nervous to really enjoy anything right now, he was also spoiled. By Avocato, of all people.

Lady Sheryl had been waiting for them when they arrived an hour ago, looking lovely and gracious in a formal gown. She had brought their dress uniforms and boots, and a palace valet had helped them get ready before making a valiant effort to tame Gary's hair. That had killed all of ten minutes, and Gary was about to explode from impatience.

Sheryl was claiming a love seat to herself, sitting stiff and still with her skirts flared out around her. The men knew better than to approach and risk wrinkling the fine gown. Lady Goodspeed had often said that if she was going to be laced into this much fabric, she was going to look good until the end.

"Gary," she said, picking up her cup of tea, "will you please pace or do pushups or something? You're practically vibrating out of your boots."

He opted to pace. "Sorry, Mom. I'm just . . . super anxious for Avocato. . . and stuff."

"I know what you're feeling, Gar," she said, sympathetic to his state. "I feel the same thing every time you and your father go into battle."

He paused, realizing what she said the fact that he'd never really thought about it before. He turned to face her. "How do you deal with it?"

She gave him a fond little smirk. "I've got a bit of faith in your skills and your training and in you, kiddo. Maybe more than a bit. Give it a whirl. I hear your boyfriend isn't lacking in those categories."

He blushed, liking how casually she called Avocato his boyfriend. "I just feel like I should be out doing something – anything – even though I don't know what."

"Things wouldn't be moving any faster if you were helping the search," she reasoned calmly. "Take it from me - we need more of the blanks filled in before anything can get done."

She rarely referenced her career as a spy and secret agent, but when she did, Gary knew to listen. It occurred to him that maybe there was more depth to her words than anyone listening in would catch. A wave of relief crashed over him as Gary realized that Sheryl, with her skills and resources, must be on the case as well.

"Thanks, Mom," he said softly, and she hid her sly smile behind a sip of tea.

Not much later, the summons to the throne room came. Gary and Sir John squared their uniforms, Sheryl smoothed her skirts, and all three Goodspeeds drew a deep breath before taking the plunge.

That bomb shelter aura the throne room exuded was hard at work to be as hostile and unwelcoming as possible. A few more lights were lit than at Gary's last summons, but somehow the extra light just multiplied the shadows and gloom. It was just as cold as before, making him glad he wore gloves, and he realized now his mother had wisely worn a winter gown. They were announced when they were halfway across the floor, and a few moments later, the Cato party of three was announced as well.

Both Cataloupe and Nikos accompanied the princess. Under normal circumstances, Nikos would not have been allowed in the palace, but in Avocato's absence, he was the closest relation MewMew had in this sector. At least, that was the agreed-upon excuse to get him here. Sir John had arranged for Nikos' dress uniform to be delivered to the Goodspeed mansion, and he had arrived with Gary and Sir John after a night in one of the base's guest suites.

Both Gary and Nikos remained behind their elders as they all bowed to the Lord Commander. Gary finally glanced at the emperor and was a disturbed to see High Helper Hula standing beside the throne. Gary felt a twinge. He really did not want to be discussing his love life before anything that looked like a skeleton stuffed into a leotard. The Lord Commander was bad enough, but some eyeball-juggling mummy was somehow worse.

"Greetings, Lady Cato. It's a very great pleasure to have you back on Tera Con Prime," purred the Lord Commander. "I do wish the circumstances had not taken the turn they did. General Cataloupe, I'm surprised to see you so far away from your fleet."

Unruffled by the implied criticism, Cataloupe bowed again, graceful despite his size, and returned a salvo of his own. "I thought to take advantage of the lull in the fighting to accompany her ladyship."

As the general spoke, several of Hula's eyes swirled gracefully through the air, circling and swooping around the three Ventrexians like a swarm of flies. The uncalled-for move was disrespectful. Insolent. Rude. Taunting, even.

Suddenly Gary knew where the Lord Commander's attitude towards Ventrexians came from, and exactly how much of a threat Ventrexia would pose if they were not part of the empire. What did the Order of the Twelve have against Ventrexia? Or was it just House Cato? At this stage in the game, they were pretty much synonymous. This gross display said more than words. He was more than a little horrified and scandalized at this treatment, and he could tell by the tension in his father's shoulders that he felt the same. It was not his place, but Gary desperately wanted to say something, do something. He was just drawing a breath to say god only knew what, just something to end this even at the cost of attracting the Lord Commander's wrath, when Princess MewMew settled the problem.

Faster than a snake, faster than Gary could trace, MewMew's hand shot out and caught one of the eyes right out of the air. Her fingers formed a tight, clawed cage around the orb, and she held it up disdainfully.

High Helper Hula staggered and let out a little wail, recalling the orbs like frightened birds. The High Helper stared at MewMew in shock, a would-be bully whose victim turned the table on them. What had Hula expected from a Ventrexian? For her part, MewMew did not so much as glance at Hula as she demanded,

"Lord Commander, what is that thing doing in my presence?"

Okay, this was where Avocato got all that destroyer-class moxie. Gary was impressed.

Hula was clearly struggling to pull the eye back to her orbit, and just as clearly, MewMew was not having it because Gary could see her hold tighten the tiniest bit. Hula's strain for control pushed the eye against the claws retraining it in a desperate bid to escape, piercing its soft membrane. Thick, goopy liquid like mucus spotted the floor. A faint whine emanated from Hula or the eye, it was hard to tell, but the High Helper was clearly distressed and taken by surprise.

Screw around and find out, Hula, thought Gary, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. This encounter gave hairy eyeball a whole new meaning. He hoped MewMew shed black hair all over that disgusting blob.

The Lord Commander let the power struggle carry one for a few more seconds. It was clear who had come out on top, but MewMew was not going to cede an inch until she was declared the winner and the loser sent packing.

"Forgive me, Lady Cato. It's been so long. I had forgotten," the Lord Commander said in a faintly contrite tone no one bought. "High Helper Hula, you are excused. Lady Cato?"

Still without ever once having looked in Hula's direction, MewMew flicked the eye away as carelessly as she'd brush dust from her sleeve. The orb, slightly clawed and out of shape, dipped low enough to splat on the floor with a wet and weirdly satisfying sound. It left a smear of mucus and picked up a layer of dust and grit before it wove low and unsteadily back to Hula, who cupped it in her bony hands. Without a word, the High Helper bowed and backed away, into the shadows towards a door at the back of the room.

While they waited to be sure she was gone, Nikos stepped forward to offer a folded handkerchief to MewMew. The princess took it with a small nod of thanks, wiped her offended hand free of any eye goop, and returned the bit of cloth to Nikos. As he turned to resume his spot, Gary watched as Nikos' eyes grew wide with realization. Gripping the cloth tightly, he shot a swift glance at Gary in speechless warning before shoving the handkerchief into his pocket and resuming his place. Gary was careful not to react or look directly at Nikos, but he felt his heart rate pick up. He knew something terribly important had just happened and Nikos alone knew what it was.

Damn. What he'd give for like, five seconds to talk.

"Lady Cato, while I had hoped to speak to you and House Goodspeed about the unexpected liaison between your sons, a far more pressing and deeply concerning event has overshadowed that," began the Lord Commander. The distress in his voice sounded so out of place as to be forced.

Now that he had a better handle on the attitudes in play, Gary wondered how hard it was for the Lord Commander to keep his temper in check and not call him and Avocato out as a pair of traitorous whelps.

"Your Captain of the Guard has informed me that my son is missing from his base and one of his officers has been murdered," MewMew said, casting Sir John a hard look from the corner of her eye. "These events happened on his watch, under his very nose, and I heartily resent and reject his insinuation that Avocato had anything to do with murder." She turned her head to give John a look that could probably down an incinerator battleship if left unchecked.

Sir John interjected. "Lady Cato, Avocato was the last person seen with Lieutenant *Po. He is not a suspect, but a person of int-"

"I am not speaking to you, Captain," was her frigid reply, slapping him down with just a handful of words. "My son is a Ventrexian nobleman of impeccable lineage and breeding. He would not dirty his hands with anything so lowly as murder." She looked away from the Goodspeeds with obvious disdain, dismissing their existence. "Lord Commander, I want to know what steps are being taken to safely locate my son."

The Lord Commander, looking down from his slab of stone, said, "I understand both the Infinity Guard base and spaceport are on lockdown, and all outbound ships are being boarded and inspected."

"All that?" was her sarcastic reply, glaring at Sir John. "If your son was the one missing, is that all the effort you'd give this search?"

"All spaceports are on lockdown at present, my lord. We have teams scouring the city and surrounding areas, and every enforcement agency in the system is presently working to find where Avocato is, if he's injured or being held, and who is responsible for Lieutenant *Po's death," Sir John said, returning MewMew's glare. Gary saw Lady Sheryl expression tighten with suppressed anger.

"If you were trying, he would have been found," Cataloupe accused. "It is your headquarters, Sir John. Indeed, this whole planet is under your protection."

"General, Lady Cato," John Goodspeed said in controlled tone, fighting for patience and understanding, "Everything that can be done to find Captain Avocato is being done. I give you my word as Captain of the Infinity Guard."

Colder than the stone around her, Princess MewMew let out a little huff. "I believe you're aware of what your word is worth to me, Captain. Lord Commander, with your grace, I would like an opportunity to rest after traveling so far."

"Of course, Lady Cato," the pint-sized goblin replied. "I'll ask Sir John to keep you apprised of progress in the investigation, and we'll meet again soon to discuss developments."

Nikos gave Gary one last swift, warning look, before he bowed and followed his superiors as they swept from the throne room. Suddenly, Gary felt as if he'd been chewed up and spat out. He could only imagine how his dad felt. He listened as the last echos of the Ventrexians' footsteps faded to nothing. Somehow, the silence they left behind was a presence unto itself.

Chapter Text

"Lady Cato, if I hadn't known better, I would have been completely convinced you were about to renew hostilities," said Sir John as he refreshed her coffee.

"If we hadn't talked yesterday, I probably would have," she admitted quietly, taking another of the savory meat tarts Sheryl offered on a plate.

An hour after leaving the palace, they had assembled at the Goodspeed estate. Princess MewMew and her party had not gone to the Cato's elegant apartment but had waited in their transport at a popular shopping mall until an unmarked, non-descript transport with tinted windows had picked them up. It had been driven by Sir John himself, and he brought them to the rear entrance of the manor to avoid prying eyes. Now they were taking tea and coffee in the withdrawing room, working to figure out everything that had happened and what they would do from here. Sheryl had banned all robots and servants from this wing of the manor until she called for dinner and electronically sealed off the whole wing of the building, which was why she and John were serving their guests themselves.

The adults looked over as tight, whispered voices reached them from the arched doorway to the hall. Nikos had laid hold of Gary and yanked him off to the side the moment they arrived, and the two of them seemed to be going at it hammer and tongs.

"Should we step in?" wondered Sheryl, not exactly concerned.

"Let them sort it between them first," advised Cataloupe, sipping his coffee. "Commander Nikos is hot tempered but won't lash out at anyone he trusts."

"Well, it's nice to see them bonding," was Sheryl's wry response. A moment later, Gary let out a squawk of, "What? Seriously?" for all the world to hear and Sheryl softly sighed. "So long as he stays in one piece, I'm good."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It said something that Gary was getting used to being manhandled by Nikos. Before he could follow his mother and General Cataloupe into the withdrawing room, a hand clapped hold of him and yanked him just to the side of the doors. Recovering quickly, he got straight to business.

"What have you got for me, short stuff?"

"Claws if you ever call me that again," snapped Nikos, his eyes narrowing sharply. "High Helper Hula is the old dead thing I smelled in the hall yesterday."

Gary gasped and gaped. "What? Seriously?"

"A little louder, they didn't hear you at the bottom of the undersea salt mines on Tryvuul. Yes!" He dug into his pocket, pulling out the soiled handkerchief with one claw. He clearly did not want to touch it for a multitude of reasons. "I'd bet my next paycheck the substance on this matches the unknown organic matter the investigators found in the hall."

"Ew." Gary stared at the crumpled, yellow-stained cloth. "Avocato must have squished one of her eyes, too. Must run in the family." He was silent, thinking hard and fast and making a variety of faces as he pressed his palms together and held his fingertips to his lips. He gestured with his clasped hands. "My dad needs to hear this. Come on!"

It was his turn to drag Nikos around, and he did so with a bit of satisfaction, bursting into the withdrawing room with a shout of, "Mom!"

Lady Sheryl fought the urge to sigh again in front of royalty. "Manners, Gary," she softly reminded in a sing-song voice accompanied by a significant look.

"I'm sorry," Gary said instantly, sketching a hasty bow without losing his grip on Nikos. "I apologize for being super rude and interrupting, but Mom, how many eyes was High Helper Hula wearing today?"

"Seven," Sheryl said without hesitation.

"What?" exclaimed Sir John, shifting in his seat to face her. "You're sure."

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

"I knew you'd know," Gary said in triumph. Sometimes having a mom who was a secret agent was really useful. She noticed everything. "Nikos, so not taking that bet. Tell them!"

"High Helper Hula was in the service corridor where Lt. *Po was murdered," said Nikos. "She is the old dead that I smelled yesterday, Sir John." He displayed the handkerchief. "The fluid Lady Cato wiped off her hands after releasing that eye smells exactly the same."

Sir John was on his feet and already ringing for a servant. "Bring a clean, sealable storage bag to the withdrawing room right away," he ordered. He faced the people assembled. "The High Helper is usually attended by eight of those eyes. They're symbolic of her rank and authority within the Order of the Twelve, and she's very protective of them. You saw how she reacted when Lady Cato caught one. She was frantic. One of them must have been damaged or destroyed very recently."

"And who would have the reflexes and built-in weapons to do that?" was Sheryl's rhetorical reply.

"She had all eight eyes when Avocato and I were summoned to the throne room last week," said Gary. He looked at his parents and shrugged. "I was scared. I was in OCD counting mode."

"Not a bad thing in this case, honey," Sheryl reassured, patting his arm.

A servant arrived with the requested bag and a cart with fresh coffee and tea service. They were silent as he swiftly swapped out the old for the new and collected used dishes, closing the doors behind him as he left.

Sir John opened the bag and held it towards Nikos. "Commander, if you would."

Nikos deposited the handkerchief, now stiff and discolored as the goop dried, into the bag. John pressed the air out and sealed it close.

Cataloupe helped himself to another tart. "Sir John, is it usual for the likes of the High Helper to enter your base?"

"No, General, it's not. The Order of the Twelve has absolutely no legitimate business on the Infinity Guard base."

"The Order has the ability to mesmerize many species," MewMew observed. "Hula could easily have entered and left your base undetected. She could just manipulate the minds and memories of anyone she encountered."

"But how would she know to go there yesterday?" questioned Nikos. "How did she find out Avocato would be on the base?"

"I spoke to him the night before," said Gary. "We arranged to meet up for breakfast. We thought maybe my quarters were bugged."

"They aren't," Sir John said, "and your comm lines weren't tapped, either. The investigation team swept your whole barracks and pulled all comm logs as part of the investigation. There were no illicit listening devices."

Gary was glad there was no mention of any other type of illicit devices. You never could tell with pilots. Still, Hula knowing Avocato's moves meant that someone had betrayed them. Who and how would lead to a lot more answers and, hopefully, Avocato.

Sheryl poured more coffee all around, looking thoughtful. "Speaking from experience in a past life, something like a kidnapping is not a thing you scrape together at the spur of the moment with any hope of success. I'm sure you military gentlemen would agree that you don't throw together a battle plan or train for a dangerous mission in five minutes."

The two military leaders nodded sagely at this claim.

"But a night could be enough," said Cataloupe, looking to Sir John for confirmation. "If you were rushed."

"Especially if I had someone on the inside," agreed Sir John with a knowing look.

"And blessing from above," added the general.

"Captain Goodspeed," said MewMew, looking up at Gary where he stood beside his mother's chair, "do you know where my son was when you spoke to him that night?"

"It was kind of late, so I assumed he was at your family's apartment, Lady Cato," Gary replied. "He set a padd aside and said he had been researching Kenny Loggins albums. Uh, he's an old earth musician I really like," he added, blushing.

"He wasn't on the Silverwing," said Nikos. "The ship or the apartment are the only places he'd stay while on Tera Con Prime."

MewMew's cup was midway to her lips when she paused, realizing something, and for the span of several heartbeats she sat perfectly still. Then she set the cup down untasted and looked to her hosts.

"Sir John, Lady Sheryl, you'll forgive me I'm sure, but I need to go to my apartment immediately. It seems I need to have a word with my housekeeper."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter Text

". . . yeah, Dad, it was their housekeeper. Melanie DeWinter her name is. She deliberately eavesdropped on our conversation the other night."

The projected image of Sir John Goodspeed, though no more than a few inches tall, conveyed his disgust at such conduct. Gary shared the sentiment. Disloyalty rankled.

"Any idea why? Who she reported to?"

"Well, remember when we had our sit-down? Who Mom said won't step in?" said Gary, not about to name names over the comms but more than willing to borrow some dramatic hand gestures from Tribore to emphasize his point. "Toward the end."

"Yes," Sir John said. Behind his toneless voice, Gary detected growing anger. If *Po served Viro willingly or not, she had learned the hardest way possible you can't serve two masters.

"Right after we got a visit at the manor, Avocato got one here from that same party in a can. That tidbit jarred sneefer boy's memory because he was here for the whole thing."

A savage hiss sounded from the room across the hall, loud enough to carry over the comms. Gary spoke on like he hadn't just prodded an apex predator whose temper was comparable to a lit stick of dynamite.

"Next day, while Avocato and I were at the palace getting wrung out like old dishtowels, Mrs. DeWinter got a visit from a cute little Tch*koor who basically informed her she was now spying on Avocato."

"Or?" prompted the Captain of the Guard.

"Or her kids would be turned into blue smears on the street."

And now, having spilled all after Lady Cato asked just that one question, Mrs. DeWinter was accessory to murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy, among other things. Hooblots were not known as the hardiest or most loyal species out there, nor the smartest. Viro had set her up and used her and cast her aside like a snotty tissue. It was unfortunate, and accusing the general would lead nowhere, but she had still betrayed them and now had to face the consequences.

A long, slow breath escaped Sir John. "Anything else?"

"That sneefer boy memory jarring thing I mentioned a second ago? Yeah, we can confirm the sour one in the hall is the party in a can."

"And I can confirm the substance found in the hall matches the sample we acquired. I shouldn't have let you leave the house unarmed," said Sir John, closing his eyes as the enormity of these revelations hit home.

Gary gestured. "Dad, they're Ventrexians. There are probably weapons, like, every ten steps here."

"Seven," corrected Nikos sharply, still in the other room.

"Bite me, Nikos," he shot back automatically.

"Flirt with someone who cares, Gary."

"I'm not- shut up. I hate you."

"It's mutual. Avocato will be so happy we have something in common."

Gary realized his father was waiting on the call still and braced himself. "Sorry. Sir."

John cast him a wry look but didn't criticize for wasting time sniping or getting distracted. Instead, he shook his head. "Don't be, Gary. You're both under enormous pressure. A lot more than you realize."

"So, what now?"

He sighed and thought for a moment. "Keep the housekeeper – DeWinter you said was her name? Keep her there and safe for now. Isolate her. Don't let her leave or communicate with anyone. Since she's a civilian at a private residence, I have to speak with a judge to get a warrant for her arrest and arrange a protection detail for her family. She'll be taken into custody and held on base. I'll let you know who to expect before they arrive so you can alert security. If you'll let my counterpart know I have a number of things I'd like to discuss with him, I'll call on a private channel as soon as I have more information."

"Okay. The SAMES delivered the Catos' transport. I told them to wait in the garage by the private elevator for now."

"Good call. Stay there. I want you off base and mobile. Keep out of sight. I'll have your mother send you some clothes."

Gary looked down, realizing he was still in his full-dress uniform. "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

John's eyes softened, and he smiled reassuringly. "Ditto. Don't worry. We'll get this sorted out. I promise."

When the call ended, Gary lingered in the room, giving himself a few moments before he had to step out and deal with reality and the Ventrexians. In the span of less than two weeks, his world just hadn't been turned upside-down. Oh, no. Someone had picked up his world by the ankles and shaken it so hard its teeth rattled and all the change and lint had fallen out of its pockets and then dropped it on its head from about a meter up. Yeah. Life of Gary. Things had gone from smooth and ordered to claws and chaos.

But . . .

If all this upset meant he'd get to kiss Avocato like that again, so worth it.

His comm pinged just as Nikos stepped into the doorway. "I just sent you the menu of the restaurant where I'm getting our dinner. Order whatever you like. The chef recommends the grilled nerf steak. I've had it, it's excellent."

"Thanks, Nikos. You following all this?"

He frowned and let out a little snort, as if it was perfectly obvious and Gary should have expected as much. "Of course, Captain. I'm the XO. It's my job to be in my superiors' business."

Gary laughed, then grew serious. "So you heard."

"That the mummy and the passive-aggressive cyclops are in this together? Yes. Am I surprised? Not even slightly. In the end, though, all I want is my captain back."

He sighed. "Me, too."

After Nikos left to get an update on the Silverwing, Gary checked the menu and ordered a steak with salad. Pushing himself up, he went to the study, where General Cataloupe was watching news feeds and sending messages to the Ventrexian fleet. He relayed what Sir John had said about dealing with Mrs. DeWinter, presently incommunicado in her quarters by the kitchen, and the promise to call with more information. Then he went out to the garden where he found Princess MewMew admiring the koro plant.

"Was this from you, Captain?" she asked without turning.

"Y-Yes, Lady Cato," he said, stepping closer. "It was Avocato's second gift from me when we started the Gifts Given."

She touched the sharp blue flower. "I've scarce seen one so beautiful, especially off world. It's an unexpected treasure from Ventrexia."

"I wanted something that could survive on a ship, but it's bigger than I thought it would be. Avocato said it made him a little homesick."

"If I may, what was the first gift?"

Out of nervous habit, he ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, my being willing to court him on his terms."

"Oh? And what did he give you in return?"

"Permission to continue," he quoted, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

She finally faced him, a faint smile on her face as if his answer - Avocato's answer - pleased her. MewMew was petite and pretty, with solid black fur and eyes the same yellow as Avocato's. Though he didn't look like her, Avocato's gestures and expressions clearly stemmed from this woman.

"That sounds very much like my youngest son," she said. "He's a romantic, even though he'd deny it."

"That makes two of us, though I'm not in denial. Most of the time, anyway."

She laughed. Brief and quiet though it was, he realized this was the first time she had laughed since he'd met her. As with her son, it was a pleasant sound, and Gary could not help but smile at her. MewMew approached him, looking up as she studied his face and expressions.

"While you are not what I expected or the one I would have chosen, you are, nonetheless, the right choice for Avocato."

"Thank you, Lady Cato," Gary replied. "I . . . I never expected any of this. Never expected to fall in love," he admitted, as much to himself as the princess.

At her arched eyebrow, he realized he's stepped in it and hastily backpedaled, tripping over his own words.

"I mean - Avocato said on Ventrexia admitting you love someone before you're betrothed is in bad taste, but nobody ever said I tasted good and where I'm from we do say it and I don't know where this is going or how to stop, but . . . I do love him."

A small, warm hand on his arm calmed his anxious ramblings. Gary shut up and let her have her say.

"Rest easy, Captain. From all that Nikos tells me, Avocato returns your feelings. Don't be surprised if it takes him years to say he loves you out loud. He is a man of deep passions, but he's always been one to let his actions speak more than his words."

"I'll be happy to wait to hear it," Gary said, meaning it. "I just want him back."

"No more than I do," she said, looking down to cover her emotion.

Gary covered her hand with his own, sharing her distress. Her fear. Her suffering. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to wrestle down the panic that had taken up residence in his chest, his own thoughts screaming at his helplessness.

Where the hell was Avocato?

Chapter Text

He dreamed of falling, falling, falling, an endless, sickening drop into darkness. He could not scream, there was no saving himself. He was alone, beyond reach or hope, trapped in the blackness of space. Abandoned by all. Unwanted. Unloved. Forgotten-

Consciousness returned a split second before Avocato slammed onto a hard, gritty surface. The fall jarred him to his core, and he cried out in surprise. Instantly he was aware of brightness, screams and roars filling the air, dirt in his mouth and nose, pain exploding through him from landing on his side. A blast of furnace-hot wind hit him, carry the stench of blood and mud and carnage. He forced his eyes open and squinted in the light of a white sun. A hellish scene came into focus. It was as if he'd been dropped from heaven into a battlefield. Chaos reigned all around him as groups of assorted peoples fled from or tried to hold off monstrous, rampaging beasts.

Beyond the clumps of desperate people, past the plumes of reddish dust kicked up by their panicked moves, tiers of seats rose up all around, packed with cheering spectators. Avocato felt a rush of horror and revulsion. This was an arena. He had been dumped into the middle of some sort of blood sport. The fighters were from a variety of planets, as were the monsters attacking them. He counted four groups of fighters and at least a dozen different species.

He looked around. A score or so of people had been dropped here with him. One or two were dead or dying, but the rest were stirring and coming to the same conclusions as he. A female Zintabo staggered to her feet, screaming and running away in blind panic, only to be snapped up into the jaws of a brywulp.

Avocato struggled to stand, feeling stiff and off-balance and too numb to be horrified. He was towards the center of the enclosed field, and most of the fighting groups were towards the edges. Still, he would have preferred more space between him and all of those crowds. And some answers. What was happening? How had he gotten here? Why?

Then Avocato spotted him standing on an elevated viewing platform overlooking the arena, and he suddenly understood.

Viro.

That hideous form was unmistakable. Memory came rushing back like a wave: *Po, Hula, Viro. They had conspired to bring him here to be killed, either for their own ends or for those of their master.

Fury consumed Avocato, banishing any thought of fear. Leaning over, he seized the harness of a Korion sprawled close by and yanked him upright.

"Get up!"

The Korian let out a snort and a cough, getting his hooves under him and shaking his head to clear it. Like Ventrexians, Korians were renowned for their fighting skills. While Ventrexians fought for the love of it, Korians usually ended up in scrapes because of their remarkably short tempers. The bull beside Avocato looked a bit past middle age but not gone to seed, tall and muscular, his horns tipped with metal. A fighter. Good. He was also supremely pissed off.

That made two of them.

"What the hell is this mess?" demanded Avocato.

"Hell," grunted the Korian. "Ain't you never heard of the Deathcropolis?"

"Death-"

He shut his mouth, not wanting to betray his shock and ignorance. In Avocato's experience, the Deathcropolis was just a rumor, a whisper of gross and pointless slaughter on backwater planets. He'd heard of it, but until this moment, it had been nothing more than a word.

Now that whispered rumor was his reality, and he was getting a crash course. If he wanted to get out of here, he was in for the fight of his life. Well, fighting was what he'd trained for his whole life. Taking care of those oversized beasts was his first priority.

"I'll be damned if I die today," growled Avocato. He looked around at the Bedlam all around him. Some of the people had clubs and spears and bladed weapons. Most of them were using the weapons completely wrong.

"We need weapons," he snapped. "Is there anything around?"

"Hey, 'Trexie," called the Korian. "Know how to use one of these?"

He turned to see the Korian kick a few corpses aside. Beneath the bodies were several spears of various weights, a broken sword, and a knife. Avocato easily caught the spear tossed his way. It wasn't as long as the halberd he had been trained on, but it would do.

"Give me one of those broken ones, too," he called as the Zintabo-eating brywulp noticed them. Refusing to be an entrée for that hideous and hairy thing, Avocato caught the broken shaft and in the same smooth, swift motion, he whipped the short spear hard at the brywulp. The steel point planted itself deep into the shaggy predator's shoulder, producing howls of pain from the brywulp and wild shouts from the spectators.

"'Nother one?" called the Korian, thoroughly impressed with his new best friend. He pitched another broken spear at Avocato.

"Why not?" he returned, snatching the shaft out of the air.

The second projectile was not as heavy as the first, and while it stabbed the brywulp in the neck, it was not a killing blow. Annoyed, Avocato met the beast with the spear and a mighty shout, thrusting the point at its eyes and fighting to keep those teeth and claws well away.

The Korian darted up from behind, the broken sword in hand. "Get its head up!"

Avocato obliged, shoving hard on the spear to catch the brywulp beneath its horny jaw. Bracing the butt of the spear on the ground, he fought to hold the weapon in place a few moments as the Korian lunged in with the sword. The broken blade was no good for thrusting, but it sufficed to slice through the creature's neck. Avocato danced back as the spear shattered beneath the weight of the thrashing brywulp, but in moments, it was dead.

A great cheer rose up from the bloodthirsty crowd. Panting, Avocato looked away as bluish blood soaked into the hard-packed earth before him. He took no pride in this kill. Ventrexians had very strict codes when it came to killing, especially animals. This was a pointless death.

This whole arena, this Deathcropolis, was an affront to any civilized being.

Which explained Viro's presence. That thug was the furthest thing from civilized.

"What are the rules here?" he asked the Korian, picking up another spear. He hoped it served him better than the last person who'd wielded it.

The bull barked a laugh. "Just one rule here, Trexie: everything dies for the glory of the Order."

"Order? Order of the Twelve?"

"None other," said the Korion, and spat. "Bastards."

. . . feeding them souls of the fallen . . . endless, burning hunger . . .

"Live until sunset and you get to do it all again next time."

"Is that so?" Avocato asked softly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the field.

Time to beat the bastards at their own game.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I'll give you one million dropnoids for that Ventrexian. Right here, right now."

Standing at the rail of the canopied viewing platform reserved for the elite, Viro glanced behind him to where one of the sponsors for the Deathcropolis lounged on a couch, sipping iced wine, getting a manicure, and watching people get slaughtered for entertainment. The grayish little Foog was an unsavory and hedonistic bit of carrion, tolerated only because of his immense wealth and ability to persuade wardens to look the other way when he went shopping for pit fighters in the local prisons. Clarence Polkawitz was his name, and Viro knew that only because Helper Stevil had been fawning over him earlier.

"The Ventrexian is not for sale," rasped Viro, turning back to the arena. If Avocato died, he did not want to miss it. The Lord Commander would want a report . . . when Viro eventually 'discovered' the captain's fate.

"Everything is for sale, general," corrected Clarence, critically examining his nails. "Two million."

"He will die here. One way or another."

"Hmph. Waste of a perfectly splendid pit fighter. That man would be a champion. Three million."

"No."

He was aware of Clarence joining him at the railing to watch the last few skirmishes. Avocato and his Korian ally had managed to killed three of the four mega predators that had been released on the field, and the last one was dying from wounds after challenging the immature Zargon slug earlier in the melee. It was unusual for a Deathcropolis to score such accomplished fighters. Normally, the predators wiped out most or all of the smaller beings before turning on each other. Today, thanks to Avocato's efforts, the tables had been turned and almost a dozen individuals were left alive and fairly mobile. It was such an unexpected development that none of the crowd had left, and, indeed, more people had piled into the arena when news spread. The noise they made was remarkable, and in only a minute or two, the sun would set and the Deathcropolis would end until all the cells beneath the arena were refilled.

Even Viro had to admit that Avocato had put up an impressive fight. He had not killed anything or anyone that wasn't trying to kill him first, and when he had killed, it had been swift and precise. He had rallied some of the offerings to band together against the larger predators, showing remarkable stamina and leadership throughout the long, bloody day.

Clarence sighed dramatically. "Ugh! This heat! fine! You drive a hard bargain, General Viro. I admire that even if it is annoying. Four million dropnoids."

Viro watched Avocato as the Ventrexian, clearly exhausted and favoring an injured leg, leaned heavily on a spear and called assurances to the handful of people left alive. He had proven himself adept at a wide variety of weapons, extremely agile, and a fast thinker, and the survivors had quickly followed in his van. Avocato had earned the reputation he had as one of the most capable and formidable fighters within the Tera Con Empire. Too bad it ended here. If Viro had his way, no one would ever know.

"A most satisfying Deathcropolis," Helper Stevil announced breathlessly as he joined them on the covered platform. Eyeless, he somehow managed to know everything going on about him, and to see such a creature happy and excited was disturbing even to Viro. "An ocean of blood! Legions of dead! High Helper Hula will be most pleased! The carnage is almost complete." He paused, then turned and bowed as another tall and skeletal member of the Order joined them. "Holy Helper Knievel, welcome! How may we help you?"

The Holy Helper was accompanied by three floating orbs and a smaller, half-size blob that struggled to keep pace with the circling eyes. He glided forward, nodding politely. "Helper Stevil. General Viro. Trader Polkawitz. We came from below when we received news of what a remarkable Deathcropolis was ongoing."

"A handful of offerings remain," gloated Stevil, smiling out upon the arena. "All the beasts have given their lives to free the Titans and yet, that Ventrexian is the most dangerous of all."

"That Ventrexian must die here," insisted Viro.

"Five million dropnoids, then," said Clarence, looking to Knievel. "For the Ventrexian."

Fed up, Viro drew his blaster and took aim. He wanted that spoiled troublemaker to know he was helpless. Let him know who had the power of life and death over him. Let his arrogance turn to fear. With precise, rapid shots, he took the lives of the survivors who waited for sunset, shooting all around Avocato and ending with his Korian ally. Shocked, Avocato reacted in true Ventrexian warlord fashion. With an ear-splitting shout, Avocato hurled the spear still in his hand. It was a long shot, but Avocato had already proven his skill today. The spear's path was true and aimed right at Viro.

At the last moment, Viro was forced to twist away. The spear flew just past his face, close enough that he felt the wind of its passing, and caught Helper Stevil square in the chest, impaling him. The Helper was hurled back a few steps and dropped straight down, astonished as he stared at the spear shaft sticking out of his chest and the spread of yellowish fluid seeping into his robes.

"Oh. Oh. Apologies, Holy Helper." Stevil's regret seemed genuine. "We . . . we seem to be joining our ancestors."

"It was not foreseen," Holy Helper Knievel said comfortingly, kneeling beside him, "But you were chosen, and are blessed to light the way when the door opens for our masters. Stop!" he cried, pointing a bony arm at Viro as the general took aim again. "Stop! The Deathcropolis has ended with the setting of the sun! None may die in this holy place until we hold the next rite and give the order. The Ventrexian is ours! On your peril you will not shoot, General Viro."

"Six million," hissed Clarence, ignoring Stevil as he gasped his last.

Viro broke off, stepping back away from Avocato's challenging glare, annoyed by the lack of change in the Ventrexian's attitude. He knew what store the Order of the Twelve set by their foolish games, and if he shot Avocato now, Hula would be certain to complain to the Lord Commander. There was no way his master would not take Hula's side and find some way to punish him, possibly even hold him responsible for the whole situation that brought on this unwelcome peace. In this affair, at least, he knew Hula looked upon him as her subordinate, simply because she had agreed to help him make Avocato disappear. Somehow, she seemed to think that gave her some sort of leverage over him. She would learn better.

No. Viro could not kill Avocato, tempting though it was. He would not give Goodspeed the satisfaction of being able to blame him for Avocato's death.

Seemingly unaffected by the sudden demise of his fellow, Holy Helper Knievel strode to the railing and looked down at the sole survivor of the Deathcropolis. In the fading light, Avocato snarled up at him, his teeth bared and his eyes filled with fury. He had located another spear, but as he was taking aim, Knievel reached out, gesturing gracefully. The spear slipped from Avocato's hand and he collapsed where he stood, his consciousness snatched away.

"This one is steeped in blood," effused the Holy Helper, weirdly thrilled. "As each death in this sacred arena feeds our masters, so each life he sends them elevates him closer to the perfect offering. With the next Deathcropolis and his sacrifice, we shall surely be welcoming our masters."

"Ten million," ground out Clarence. "Final offer."

Knievel smiled and actually patted Clarence on the head as if he were a precocious child. "You are generous to be sure, Trader Polkawitz, but a destiny far more glorious than can be imagined awaits our little Ventrexian. Oh, yes," he said, watching as the keepers hauled Avocato to the cells beneath the arena. "He shall serve our masters well."

Viro unleashed the full weight of his authority into his tone. "Just make sure he dies, Holy Helper."

That sickly rictus of a smile did not fade from Knievel's face. "Of that, you need not doubt, general."

Clarence sighed, defeated, stepping over Stevil's body to retrieve his wine with a muttered, "Tch. Such a waste."

Chapter Text

The second time Avocato roused, it was considerably less shocking than the last time. To his disappointment, his earlier experiences in the arena had not turned out to be some fevered nightmare, but reality. He could tell because not only was he physically exhausted from hours of combat, but he was severely dehydrated. The whole time in the arena, there had not been a moment where they could rest or restore themselves, and no water had been available. This precise brand of headache was unmistakable, as was the cramping and soreness of all his muscles and a lingering nausea.

Thankfully, it was dim and cool when he opened his eyes. He did not think his head could have handled any light brighter than a candle, so the darkness was a relief. He could not quite tell if it was night or if he was confined indoors. Not that it mattered. It registered with Avocato that he was laying atop some rough fabric on a hard surface. Distant and indistinct echoes reached is ears, and he could smell dirt and blood and . . . roasting meat?

With effort he focused his eyes. He was in an arched chamber roughly hewn out of brown rock. No, not a chamber. A cell. About the same size as his quarters on the Silverwing. Across the opening was a barrier of heavy, close-set bars. One of many, most likely. Somewhere, a lamp or window allowed enough light to just make out his surroundings. Avocato lay on a pallet against one wall feeling all the weight of the past few days press down hard upon him.

Grimacing, Avocato made himself sit up, taking it slowly to give his head time to adjust to the change in position and easing his injured leg to a more comfortable position. His thoughts were weirdly clouded, and he figured it must be the aftermath of having one of the Order of the Twelve snatch his consciousness away. Again. That and a lack of water. Well, he'd wanted a chance to think. Odds were good he'd have nothing else to do for a while. That wasn't a bad thing. Not entirely. He needed to rest and recover. Granted, he'd rather recover anywhere but here, but his father had taught him to take advantage of every opportunity. Being here was far from ideal, but it was an opportunity. With a long sigh, Avocato sat back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Viro's single shot in the service corridor had dropped Avocato in his tracks. He had woken up once since then that he remembered, restrained on a prisoner gurney being loaded onto a Tera Con military aviso. Viro and Hula must have secreted him off the Infinity Guard base the same way they snuck on – if, indeed, they had snuck on at all and this wasn't some elaborate grand plan by the Captain of the Guard to dispose of him. It was hard to tell. Avocato had thought Sir John was being genuine, but it was quite possible his concern had been an act. Never having him met him before, Avocato couldn't judge.

Hula, horrifying and reeking of death, had been there to see him disposed of. Such a grotesque creature. She had leaned over Avocato as he tried to struggle and work loose the gag in his mouth, amused at his efforts as she whispered,

"Die well and open the doors, little lover."

She gestured with one bony hand, and that was the last thing he remembered before being dumped from a shuttle with the other sacrifices into the Deathcropolis arena. The others . . . Avocato felt a pang, especially for the Korian who had stood beside him throughout the day. He had been a fierce and daring fighter and deserved far better than to be gunned down after surviving the Deathcropolis. Avocato hadn't even learned his name, and thanks to Viro's petty need to prove himself, he never would.

And now . . . now what?

Clearly he'd been sent here to die. Secret him away, let him be killed by some nameless prisoner or feral beast, then blame someone else and mourn the tragedy when it was finally discovered where he had ended up. Very neat, very convenient for everyone except Avocato. Whoever was responsible – Viro, Hula, Sir John, the Lord Commander himself, or some other interested party – wanted this temporary peace to end on the worst possible note and for hostilities between the Catos and the Goodspeeds to resume immediately. With one officer dead and another missing, Avocato wondered how long Sir John and General Cataloupe could last before they unleashed again. They would know it was what was wanted of them, and hopefully resist the urge to try to kill one another.

And his mother! His mother would be on Tera Con Prime by now, quietly frantic for him and desperate for information. Princess MewMew of Hiis could more than hold her own against Sir John or even the Lord Commander, but for her son to be missing in questionable circumstances would put her at a disadvantage. At least Nikos was there and would take care of her. Nikos was family, after all, regardless of how little he capitalized upon his connections to the great houses.

What was Gary doing right now? Was he frightened or jubilant? No, that wasn't fair. Avocato could not bring himself to believe Gary Goodspeed had a single mean cell in his body. He might be quirky and downright odd, but there was no cruelty in him. And the passion they had shared in that kiss the other day had been very, very real. He loved Avocato. And Avocato loved him. He could not allow doubt to take root and overwhelm him. Gary was most certainly anxious and terrified for him right now, though it felt weirdly selfish to take comfort in that thought. Nikos, he knew, would tear down the whole empire to find him, if only to avoid having to take command of the Silverwing. Avocato had to believe his family and friends and suitor would find him and come for him.

It was his job to stay alive long enough for that to happen.

There came a sound of light footsteps on the gravelly floor. Avocato opened his eyes as a tray of food was slid into the cell through a narrow gap by the floor. A metal pitcher was set down outside as well.

"Terk figures you should have some since you're the one who killed it," said a soft voice. Male. Young. Hesitant. Avocato shifted, trying to get a better look at his little keeper. The figure was small and slim and wearing a hood despite being inside. He caught a glimpse of a yellow tunic and oversized boots and –

"There's water here, too. I can't put the pitcher in there, but you can reach through and pour yourself some more. I know you didn't get any today."

He stepped back and hurried away faster than he'd come. Avocato shifted, his voice soft and coarse as he called,

"Wait!"

The steps paused, and Avocato pressed against the bars to make sure of what he had seen. Yes, that was a tail. The child turned, his hood sliding back off his head. In the faint light, just enough to distinguish one shadow against another, Avocato could make out a pair of sharply pointed ears set high atop his head.

That silhouette was unmistakable. He was Ventrexian.

Avocato silenced the gasp that wanted to escape his aching throat. A thousand question sprang to mind. What was he, what was any child doing in this hellish place? How had a Ventrexian come to be here? Was he free? Safe? Alone? Did he have a family? A thousand questions, but he dared not ask a one.

"Thank you," rasped Avocato, afraid to say or do more lest he frighten this boy.

He was still for a moment, surprised, and then the boy yanked the hood up again and darted quickly away.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Avocato seriously doubted there would be many opportunities for a decent meal in his future, and so ate every bit of the food he had been served. Given the circumstances, it was a far better dinner than he could have hoped for, especially since he hadn't expected anything at all. It helped that he was famished, but the thick slab of tough, unknown meat was actually tasty and had been seasoned and the hunk of bread was fresh enough. Even the bread was hard to chew. He had eaten rougher fare in the field, though he had to eat with his hands. What Avocato appreciated the most, though, was the water in the cup and the stuff left for him. Pouring through the bars of the cage was a challenge, but worth the struggle even if the water had a metallic tang to it.

Eating slowly, Avocato didn't exactly savor the meal, but rather appreciated it. With food and water in him, his head felt clearer and the aches lessened. He took the time to consider his young keeper and how best to approach him if the chance arose. He would have to be very careful in dealing with that boy, whose loyalties were unknown but who could be of immense help.

He saved a bit of the water to wash his hands and the many nicks and cuts he'd sustained during the battle in the arena. There was nothing too bad, really. Avocato hadn't fought anyone he would have classified as an enemy, just a pack of unfortunates who had stumbled into the grasp of monstrous beings. His only real concerns were the cleanliness of the water and the stun blast on his shin. It should have healed by now, but it was being stubborn. He regretted not going to a doctor for it, but at the time it had seemed so minor. A hiss of pain escaped him as he eased the scuffed boots off, and he grimaced. His leg was swollen and sore. The injury had been rubbed raw during all his fighting, and in the wan light it now resembled a burn. A nasty one. Carefully, Avocato dabbed at it, wondering how he would keep it clean.

He sighed, casting aside the fouled water before returning the cup to the tray and sliding it into the corridor to be collected and, he hoped, refilled. Exhausted, Avocato returned to that miserable pallet and lay down. A very annoying thought hit him in that after this, he would have to break in yet another pair of uniform boots. If he survived to make it back to Tera Con Prime, he promised himself the pleasure of strangling Derek the next time he saw him.

Avocato did not expect to sleep, but for this night, at least, his exhaustion outweighed his troubles and he slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

He roused to the sound of the metal tray sliding over the grit. Avocato opened bleary eyes to see food – the same as the night before – delivered through the narrow gap by the floor. There was more light now, and he could see the skinny boy a bit better. Definitely Ventrexian, with orange fur and a bright blue crest of hair peeking beneath his hood. Avocato couldn't guess his age. Not only was he unused to dealing with children, but until their teenage years, Ventrexian children tended to be small. This little one could have been any age, really.

"Thank you," Avocato said again as another pitcher of water was placed within reach. His voice was still hoarse and the increased light did nothing to help his lingering headache.

The boy started, raising his head and pushing the hood back. His fur was dull and dusty, but his pale eyes were bright and too big for his face. Avocato suspected he could have done with more food and less work.

"I thought you were asleep," he muttered, standing straight to get a look at Avocato as the officer rose. He cocked his head, intensely curious. "What are you?"

Avocato felt himself smile at the innocent question. "I think what you really mean to ask is, 'What are we?'"

His keeper took a moment to mull over his counter-question before giving a nod. "Okay. Yeah. So, what are we?"

"We're Ventrexians, from the planet Ventrexia."

A frown came next. "I don't know what that means."

Avocato answered with care. "Ventrexia? It means a lot of things. It means us. Our planet and sun. Our people and culture and language. Ventrexia is the name of our primary goddess. She's the goddess of war, victory, the sun, history, and mothers. Ventrexia is you and me."

"I've never been there."

"Where you are doesn't change what you are."

That gave him pause. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I'm a captain in the Ventrexian military."

"Really?" The notion seemed to thrill him, and he perked up noticeably. "Have you seen a lot of battles?"

"Yes. In space and on the ground. Now, who are you?"

"Um . . . everybody just calls me Trexie."

Avocato had to steel himself not to react. By Ventrexian standards 'Trexie' wasn't a name, but an insult. Still, he had tolerated the Korian calling him the same thing all day yesterday, and this child most likely had no frame of reference to find offense. Hopefully, he never would. And hopefully, Princess MewMew never managed to lay hold of the first person who ever called this child by that rude nickname, because she would eviscerate them without a second thought. When it came to defending children, his mother was devoid of mercy. Most Ventrexians were.

"What do you call yourself?" Avocato asked, forcing himself to keep a light tone of voice.

It was clearly something he had never considered, because after a moment Trexie shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. Just Trexie. What do they call you?"

"I'm Avocato of House Cato."

Another frown creased the boy's brow. "What do you mean, 'of House Cato'?"

"Cato is the name of my family. A house on Ventrexia means that we're of noble blood. Noble families tend to include their house as part of their children's names, which is why I'm called Avocato. It combines my house with Avoca, which is the name of the spear the goddess Ventrexia carries."

"Is that why you're so good with a spear? I saw you yesterday during the Deathcropilis. That was amazing."

"I've been a soldier most of my life," he answered with a smile. "That's how I got good at fighting."

"Huh." Trexie nodded thoughtfully. "So, a house is like a clan? Terk says he's in a clan with his family and cousins."

"Yes. Do you have any family?"

He shook his head. "My mom died a long time ago. Terk and the others kept me around after that."

Was there any real affection involved, or did this Terk just keep a convenient slave? Seeing as how Terk couldn't even be bothered to give him an actual name, Avocato assumed the latter case. "I'm sorry you lost her. That's got to be hard."

A few moments passed, and then Trexie shrugged again, trying not to be affected by the reminder. "I have to get going. I'll bring you more food later."

Avocato glanced at the food on the tray. More of the same bread and meat, just cold this time.

"You hungry? Want a bit?" invited Avocato, remembering his own ravenous appetite when he was younger.

"You mean that?" was the cautious reply.

By the side-eye he was receiving, Avocato suspected many such promises had been broken to this child. "Cut a piece off. Go on. I won't tell. I'll stay over here while you do it."

He kept still as the tray slid out again, then back. A corner of the meat had been sliced off.

"See you later, little one," Avocato said softly as the boy hurried away to eat his prize. Avocato retrieved the tray and sat down to eat. Somehow, the simple meal tasted better for having been shared.

Chapter Text

"I have to get back to the base and follow up on the investigation," said Sir John, leaning over to kiss his wife. "I'll probably spend the night there, too."

"I'll keep you posted," she promised shrewdly.

She knew he understood her meaning and expression perfectly. The Infinity Guard were not the only ones capable of launching an investigation, and as a private citizen, Sheryl Goodspeed could utilize channels and resources unavailable to the military. She could also go to greater extremes, and with far fewer regulations or qualms than her husband.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied, giving her his most charming smile, the one that worked every time she saw it. He brushed her cheek with his hand, and she pressed his fingers close and warm for a moment, falling in love all over again. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Try to get some sleep tonight, John. You need it."

After Sir John left, late as it was, she chimed Tribore. The gossip monger was clearly ready for bed, wearing a feather-trimmed dressing gown, custom eye mask, and turban wrap on his head.

"Oh, you caught me, Hot Lady Mama," teased Tribore, ever flirtatious as he filed his nails.

With a knowing smile, Lady Sheryl replied, "Tribore, darling. I just got a new tea you simply must try. I think you'll adore it."

Tribore's six eyes lit up, and he whipped the scarf off his head, already moving. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Captain, I believe this is meant for you."

Gary looked up in surprise as Princess MewMew entered the library carrying a small, interstellar shipping case. Leaving off his scouring of the news feeds (GaryCato was still hotter than hot, thank you Tribore), Gary rose to greet her, taking the package with both hands.

It was addressed to Gary Godspeed and sent in care of Avocado. It had been shipped from earth, of all places – Philadelphia, PA, to be exact, which probably explained the misspelling. It had been sent express, and small as it was, had probably cost Avocato a fortune to ship. Already too tired and stressed to sleep, seeing this and knowing Avocato had gotten it for him, Gary suddenly felt as if he'd been carrying a water buffalo around on his back all day. A fat one.

"It arrived yesterday, apparently," she said. "Mrs. DeWinter signed for it. Do you know what it is?"

"No, I don't, Lady Cato. Do you want to open it, or should I? It is Avocato's."

"Or Avocado's," she replied with a little smile, eyeing the address.

Despite himself, Gary laughed a bit as he explained the error. "Well, it was sent from earth, so that's an easy mistake to make. You see, avocados, with a 'd' at the end, are a type of fruit. A really delicious kind of fruit, actually. One of my favorites. Whoever sent this probably just misheard his name. And mine."

"Ah." She seemed amused at the misunderstanding, or perhaps at the off human merchant who though she'd name her son after a fruit. "Well, it is for you, so why don't you open it?"

He opened the bag and pulled out the rigid plastic container inside. Breaking the shipping and import shields on the box, he opened it up to find another box. A small object was wrapped in layer upon layer of protective plastic, down, down, down all the way to a flat case. Gary's heart was beating faster with each layer as he began to realize what he held: an original Kenny Loggins album on CD. He turned it over, staring at the cover. Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow. How utterly fitting, given that – he glanced at the time displayed on the computer and yes, it was just after midnight - it was his birthday. The CD was perfect. Pristine. He had copies of copies of copies of this album, but not an original.

Floored, he dropped into the nearest chair to keep staring in comfort. MewMew regarded him with gentle, wide-eyed concern.

"Are you well, Captain?"

He gulped, desperate to come across as in control in front of his love interest's mother when in fact, all he wanted to do was bawl at how wonderful and thoughtful this gift was and how much it meant that Avocato had listened and heard and cared about his interests regardless of how little Avocato knew about earth culture.

"I – I, yeah – I mean, yes, I . . ."

I am desperately in love with your son.

The thought seemed to convey to the princess because her expression softened. She looked at the case clutched in his hands and seemed to recognize his difficulty.

"Is this music? You mentioned this artist's name earlier, didn't you?"

"Yes. Kenny Loggins. He's from earth. His music was popular over a century ago, but it's still really, really good." He swallowed again. "This must be my next gift."

"I was thinking the same thing. It would seem my son understands your likes."

"It's . . . it's more than that, Lady Cato. It's . . . Avocato hears me. He sees me. The person, not just the name or rank or idea of me."

She smiled. The expression was warmer this time as she said, "Such is love, Captain Goodspeed."

He kept staring at the album clutched in his hands. "Good timing, too. It's my birthday today. I'm twenty-five now."

"A very good age to be. Congratulations, Captain."

The moment was spoiled by an exasperated and upset Nikos striding into the library. "Argh! I don't believe - Captain, did you find any – oh! Excuse me, my lady." He stopped short as he realized he was interrupting, and sketched a quick bow. "I beg your pardon."

"Don't fret, Nikos," MewMew replied, the picture of serenity. "You seem newly troubled. What is it?"

Nikos made a hangdog face. "I've just come from speaking to General Cataloupe. He has . . . handed down my punishment for insubordination."

Gary blinked and gaped. "Punish – wait! For telling it like it is? Because you were totally right to raise your voice at all of us! We had it coming. My dad even told me he was going to talk to the general so you didn't get in trouble."

Amused at having the Captains Goodspeed defending him, Nikos gave him a wry look. "In trouble? No. Punished? Yes."

"Oh, Nikos," said the princess, all sympathy. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did."

"My dearest, I know it's the last thing you want, but you know, and I know, and the general knows there's no one Avocato trusts more."

Gary was lost. "Wait – what happened? How are you being punished?"

Nikos braced himself. "I've been put in command of the Silverwing."

He smiled at his tone. Nikos definitely sounded unhappy. "Not the worst punishment, pal."

"It is when your captain is your brother," Nikos said quietly, throwing the situation back into perspective. He recovered quickly, shaking his head. "It's a temporary promotion, fortunately. I'll revert back to commander as soon as Avocato is safely recovered."

"I pray to the Brightstar that is soon," Lady Cato said. "For all our sakes."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lady Sheryl had to give it to Tribore - he made an excellent audience when there was gossip to be had. Sitting in her boudoir, sipping herbal tea and nibbling delicate little tarts as if it was noon and not midnight, he listened with an intensity few could match. What was more, Sheryl knew he would be able to recall everything she said, her every tone and gesture. To those who didn't know him, Tribore might be come across as absent-minded, but that was only when something didn't interest him. What she had to tell him, however, was very, very interesting and he hung on every word.

And she told him everything. Everything. Down to the last, silly and snarky comment out of Gary. Tribore, gossip monger extraordinaire, needed to hear every detail in order to get her the information she wanted, and it was better that he understood the urgency of her request. Beyond that, he was shocked and thrilled at all the right moments, gasping at new revelations and gaping with delight at Ventrexian nerve. He held all questions until Sheryl brought him up to the point where John left an hour ago, and as expected, the interrogation began.

"I don't know anything about this DeWinter woman," Tribore mused thoughtfully. "You say she's on the base now?"

"Under arrest, yes. An accomplice to kidnapping, if not murder. Her family is under guard in case Viro tries to make good on his threat."

"Hmm. I'll have a dossier on her by brunch."

"She's not nearly as important as Avocato," Sheryl reminded firmly. "We have to find him, for Gary's sake if nothing else."

"And their fan base. Do I know that? Oh, I know," agreed Tribore, lifting a tart. "I just prefer to have all the dirt on all the players and I'm good at multi-tasking among many, many other accomplishments." He popped the tart in his mouth. "I take it Sir John pulled records on all departures from Tera Con Prime before he locked down the spaceport?"

"Yes, but it's possible all flights weren't registered."

Tribore blinked all six eyes in surprise. "Who can do that?"

"Only people with a lot of authority."

"How much authority?"

"I can think of exactly three," said Sheryl with a significant look, "one of whom wouldn't do that."

"Has General Viro been seen on Tera Con Prime since Lord Avocato vanished?"

"Not that I'm aware," Sheryl replied. "And I'd very much like to know where Viro is. I think if we find one, we'll find the other."

"Don't worry. As your ladyship knows, I have my people, and I'll get them on it right away."

"Do whatever you have to. I'll cover all expenses. Let me know if you run into any obstructions."

Delighted by this challenge, Tribore smirked knowingly as he saluted with his tea. "Oh, I don't anticipate much resistance."

Chapter Text

It was pretty surreal for Gary to be living with the sworn enemies he'd inherited at birth and two weeks ago he would have acting like a POW, but when he finally went to bed in one of the guest rooms of the apartment, he fell asleep instantly and his rest was undisturbed by any worries or nightmares. Indeed, nothing bothered him until he woke up to drool on his pillow and Nikos standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips and and the first frown of the day gracing his face, the personification of impatience.

"What the hell, Gary?" he exclaimed with a sharp gesture. "Are you going to sleep all day?"

Turns out it was only 7 am-ish, but apparently Ventrexians survived on about ten minutes of sleep, caffeine, and spite. It took a while for Gary to drag himself upright, find his clothes, do something to civilize his hair, and reach the kitchen. As soon as he arrived, that same short, hairy dictator handed him a steaming cup and a massive danish on a plate and pointed him out to the patio. Gary gulped his coffee as he let his autopilot take over and guide his steps. He paused, a pang going through him and jolting him awake as he recognized the same coffee he'd shared with Avocato two days ago. It was just as rich and delicious, and Gary knew that wherever he was right now, Avocato would kill for a sip of this brew.

General Cataloupe and Princess MewMew were seated in the garden enjoying pastries and fruit salad and talking. MewMew smiled in greeting and gestured at a chair. "Please join us, Captain."

"Thank you," he said, then added, "Good morning."

MewMew sighed and shook her head in sympathy. "Nikos should have let you sleep."

"He would have slept all day," Nikos declared like he was some type of authority on the sleeping habits of superior officers, which, all things considered, he probably was. Setting his own plate and coffee down before joining them, he inclined his head. "My lady. General." He turned to Gary. "What are the exact dimensions of your F75-A Hawk Interceptor? What is their overall volume? Do they require catapult launching or can they be dropped or take off from a surface under standard gravity?"

If Nikos had stood on his chair and warbled out a Zintabo mating song, Gary could not have stared at him with a blanker expression than the one he now wore.

"Whaaa?" wondered Gary finally, lacking focus enough to even blink as he got absolutely lost in the unexpected questions.

"Nikos," MewMew softly criticized, hastening to refill Gary's coffee cup, sensing his need.

"Perhaps let Captain Goodspeed wake up before you start interrogating him, Commander," advised Cataloupe mildly, amused at the communications lines they'd established.

"Fine," grumped Nikos, applying himself to his own pastry.

Gary made breakfast last in order to brace himself for the grilling Nikos had planned. With food and coffee in him, he felt better able to face the feisty little Ventrexian, though he called his mother first as a warmup. Sheryl Goodspeed looked a little weary, and he could tell she had used the good makeup today to cover her fatigue, but her eyes and expression were as sharp as ever.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," she said. "'Fraid your presents will have to wait until things settle a bit. Your father probably won't get a chance to call."

"That's okay, Mom. I was supposed to be on duty today, anyway. We can celebrate when the dust settles. Any word on anything?"

"I'm working on it," she promised, smiling her most vicious smile. He knew by her tone that asking for more information would be futile. "If you go anywhere, make sure you're armed and you call me when you leave and when you get to where you're going."

He nodded. The precautions were extreme, but they made sense in this atmosphere. "Elementary school protocols. Got it. I won't leave unless I have to. Thanks, Mom," he said, meaning it. If anyone could ferret out who had Avocato, it was Sheryl Goodspeed. Still, even that brief exchange left him feeling sufficiently chewed up to face Nikos. He tanked up on more coffee and went to seek his doom.

Nikos, whose clothes were still on the Silverwing, continued wearing his full dress uniform complete with a colorful row of ribbons and pins and medals on his chest which jingled musically now and then and frankly made Gary a little jealous and self-conscious.

"Okay, Nikos, why do you want the specs on my ship?" asked Gary as he finally submitted to the inevitable.

Nikos activated the worktable in the apartment's library, displaying a 3-D image of the Silverwing's schematics.

"I need to know how many of your fighters will fit into her hold."

Gary looked at him sharply through the glowing lines depicting the starcruiser. Hard blue eyes looked right back at him. Nikos had certainly stepped into the role of acting captain easily enough. It occurred to Gary that Nikos didn't have a higher rank than commander by choice, that he was exactly where he wanted to be. By remaining a commander, he remained at his best friend's side. Nikos wouldn't view it as a sacrifice, but a privilege. That said a lot, because for all his impatience and bossiness, Nikos was one hell of a good officer.

"Wha – what are you planning?" asked Gary.

"We're not sure yet," admitted Nikos. "Sir John and General Cataloupe are working on a plan independent of the Infinity Guard investigation. Something unofficial and with looser guidelines than standard deployment. Regardless, it will be a joint effort and I intend to be ready as soon as the word comes."

"As soon as we find Avocato, you mean."

"Precisely. Since we can't help with the search, we will be ready for the rescue. If Avocato is off world, the Silverwing is the most logical choice to send after him. We're not part of the Infinity Guard, so General Cataloupe can issue orders, and a shakedown as soon as the refit and restock is complete is the perfect cover. With several of our crew still on leave and not likely to return before the lock down is lifted, volunteer crew will be accepted." He made a face. "Even if we're forced to accept Infinity Guard volunteers, Wing Commander Goodspeed."

Gary smirked in reply. He was privately beginning to appreciate this Ventrexian brand of sneakiness. They were ruthless in all the right ways to get things done. Admiration and determination to match Nikos' filled him, and he surged to his feet, pointing at the bay doors opening in the belly of the ship and launching an interrogation of his own.

"Doesn't look real big, so it'll be tight. Like, super duper tight. Maybe two Hawks? How wide is that entrance? How high is the bay? The Hawk's upper stabilizer can be removed to fit. We don't do that too often because they won't be battle-ready, but they're designed to be quick and easy to fix. The only problem with removing the dorsal fin is you have to replace the gaskets and seals when they get put back together. Do you guys ship a decent engineer or mechanic? One that can work in space?"

"Oh," said Nikos in smug satisfaction, "she's more than decent, Captain."

"Good." He nodded thoughtfully, then gave the commander an assessing look. "So, how's your Tetris game?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"You want me to what?"

Chief Engineer Lt. Commander Pawlette gave Nikos what had to be the finest stink eye Gary Goodspeed had ever seen. She was tiny, calico-colored, and had a crest of hair atop her head that seemed to have its own agenda. She also looked harried and fed up and her coveralls were dirty, her pockets so stuffed full of tools and scanners and parts that she was probably carrying around her own weight in equipment.

Completely unfazed by her wrath, Nikos said, "I need you to familiarize yourself with the F75-A Hawk Interceptor, specifically the dorsal stabilizer removal and replacement."

"I am finishing the upgrades first."

"The upgrades are done. You're fussing," he countered. Clearly this was an old debate between them.

She made another face, matching his stubbornness. "My 'fussing' is what will guarantee the rail guns fire every time you give the order!"

"I know," Nikos ground out, willing her to get it. "So I need you to continue fussing and hold off on filing the final paperwork while you also familiarize yourself with the F75-A Hawk Interceptor dorsal stabilizer removal and replacement."

Narrowed eyes. Another glare. Gary could practically taste her suspicions and anger. Pawlette pointed a threatening wrench. "First this rumor about our captain. Now we're on lock down. Now you're acting captain and getting cozy with a Goodspeed? When you get back to this ship, you're explaining everything to me and you'd better have some damned good alcohol ready when you do, Nikos!"

He nodded once. "Depend on it. Call me later with your findings."

She made a noise like agreement and the comm ended. Nikos sighed, looking suddenly spent.

"Wow," said Gary. "Haven't seen that much sass since I met you."

"We were in the academy together. She's only mad because she's worried."

"I get it. What's your excuse?"

"I hate you," Nikos said with absolutely no conviction behind the words. He frowned and gestured with both hands. "I thought we established that already."

Gary smiled. "My mistake."

Chapter Text

"What is this place? What planet?"

Trexie sat against the empty cell across from Avocato's, knees scrunched up to his chest. The question pleased him, because it meant he knew something Avocato didn't. He perked up as he said, "The city's called Bith, I think. The planet is Yarno."

"Yarno?" Avocato frowned, running the name through his memory. Yarno. It was part of the empire, one of the fringe worlds on the very final edge of the Lord Commander's control. Small wonder they got away with something like the Deathcropolis on a regular basis. "I've never been here before. Ventrexian space is three parsecs away."

"Is that far?" wondered Trexie.

"Very," Avocato confirmed. "Clear on the opposite side of the galaxy."

"Wow."

It was late. Avocato had eaten long ago and the hall was dark but for a distant patch of moonlight on the floor. He had not been able to sleep from the throbbing in his leg. He was fairly certain an infection was taking hold. Without clean water and antibiotics, he was in for a rough time. Unless Gary showed up and saved him from this literal pit. Avocato would even stop complaining about being dubbed Mr. Whiskers if Gary would just come . . . right now.

He had not been surprised when he heard someone creeping down the hall. The light step and soft breaths had told him it was Trexie. The boy wasn't just intrigued by Avocato, he was starved for attention and approval and knowledge, all of which Avocato had to offer.

"That you, Trexie?" he'd asked softly.

"How'd you know?" was soft exclamation.

So, he'd told him. They talked in hushed tones, each of them learning from the other as the conversation wound this way and that.

"So is Yarno the home world of the Order of the Twelve?" Avocato asked carefully, still trying to piece together the puzzle of the rumor surrounding him and Gary. The situation was quite ridiculously complex and showed no signs of settling down to something easily explained. Avocato had wanted time to think, but now that he had all the time he could possibly want, it did him no good at all. In truth, he was bored silly and the only highlights were the twice-daily visits of his little keeper.

"You mean those bony things with the floating eyes? I don't know. They run the city . . . kinda, but there's only ever two or three of them here unless there's a really big Deathcropolis. I've only been outside the arena grounds a few times, and there are a lot of different peoples on Yarno. I think they like it because there's no one in control here."

Except the Order. And what did the Lord Commander care if his favorite advisor and top general claimed a backwater planet or two and set up death games? Avocato sat back, pondering.

"Why are you here?" Trexie asked shrewdly, and Avocato understood the depth of the question.

"Some very powerful people want me dead, but don't want to be directly responsible for killing me themselves."

"You mean that guy with the eye? Viro?"

"He's one of them."

Trexie made a sound of disgust. "He smells like machine oil. Terk told me to keep out of sight when he's here, or the High Helper."

"Listen to him. In this case, Terk's right. They don't like Ventrexians."

"There's some guy here who keeps trying to buy you to be a pit fighter. He's been by twice. Clarence is his name."

Avocato snorted at the notion. Though slavery was nominally outlawed in the Tera Con Empire, Avocato was not so naive to believe it didn't exist at every level.

"He'd be he first one I'd kill," said Avocato, meaning it.

Trexie, in proof that he was Ventrexian to the core, laughed. "That would be great! He's creepy. Sometimes he brings his kids here with him and he expects me to keep them busy even when I'm working. They're really annoying and almost as creepy. One is a Tryvuulian and the girl is a Serpentian. She treats me like I'm some sort of toy."

"I've run into that attitude," he said with a derisive snort. "Some species seem to think we're pets."

"What did you do?"

Avocato slipped his hand between the bars, holding his palm flat. "Shook his hand," he said, tensing his fingers and displaying his claws.

Another laugh of genuine amusement. It was sweet on the ears as it echoed down the stone corridor. Avocato wondered how often Trexia laughed this way. Certainly not often enough for his young life.

They both looked down the hall at a faint sound, though from where he was confined, Avocato could see nothing. Trexie stood.

"I better go," he whispered, then added, "We're getting more offerings soon, so things will get busy. I'll see you later."

On silent feet, he left. Avocato stood, sensing another presence in the hall. After a long moment, the person approached, boots scuffing the gravel underfoot. In the darkness, Avocato could make out the form of a Geltian male, three-eyed and scowling. Avocato looked him up and down, unimpressed and willing to let it show.

"You must be Terk."

"You shouldn't talk to that boy," snapped Terk, his voice raspy and deep.

"That child you work like a slave and couldn't even be bothered to give a name?" he countered, eyes narrowing.

Terk sneered, but there was a distinct air of discomfort about him as he muttered, "His mother owed me money."

"And you decided he's responsible for her debts? Tell me, how old will he be when it's paid back?"

A growl answered. "Stop giving him ideas."

"Ideas?" echoed Avocato. "Ideas or hope?" He shook his head. "Seems like a hell of a lot more than you've ever given him."

Terk took a menacing step towards him, but Avocato was anything but menaced by some seedy Geltian's intimidation tactics.

"You're nothing but an offering to the Titans," he hissed. "You're going to be killed in the next Deathcropolis and things will just keep going here."

Unaffected and unruffled, Avocato noted that for all his bravado, Terk did not get within an arm's length of the cell. Too bad. Avocato could think of six ways to kill him without having to take a step from this spot. It pleased him that even locked in this cell, he had gotten to Terk. The Geltian's presence here spoke volumes.

"Maybe," he said. "But you can't kill an idea."

Better people than Terk had tried.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Are you alright?"

Holding onto the thick metal bars for support, Avocato crouched down as far away from the opening at the floor as the cell would allow, doing his best not to appear threatening in any way and keeping his voice soft. Trexie pushed a tray of food – the same slab of meat, hunk of chewy bread, and cup of water – into the cell. His movements were stiff, and he kept his hood on, looking very downcast.

"Terk got mad at me," muttered the boy. "I asked if Trexie was actually my name or just what I was. He said there's too much work for me to waste any time, but until the next batch of offerings arrives, there's not really anything to do. He just doesn't like me talking to another Ventrexian. He doesn't want me to learn anything he doesn't tell me." He sniffed, swiping at his nose before setting the pitcher within easy reach for Avocato.

Had Terk beaten him? Threatened him? Abuse could take so many forms, and to the likes of Terk, a normal way of dealing with any inconvenience, such as a slave learning to think for himself. Avocato had come up with numerous fantasies about murdering Terk even before meeting him, and now he was revising them to maximize the pain and suffering inflicted.

"He's trying to control you," said Avocato. "You're probably the only thing in this universe he thinks he can control."

"Can't even control himself," mumbled Trexie.

A very daring thing to say, given the situation. "Most likely not. I understand if you want to keep your distance from me."

An indignant snort broke through the boy's misery. "No! You're the first grown-up who ever talked to me like I was worth something. And you kept your promise."

Avocato smiled gently, surprised a bite of food could mean so much. Then again, he had never known what it was like to be truly hungry. "The meat? You can have some more if you're hungry."

"You mean that?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

The tray slid out, then back minus a corner of the meat.

"Trexie's not really a name, is it?"

Had Trexie lingered in the hall to eavesdrop last night? It was hard to say. Avocato did not want to hurt this child in any way, but he would not lie. That would be worse, he sensed. "It's a nickname a lot of races use for Ventrexians, like calling humanoids primies, short for primates."

A little frown creased Trexie's face as he considered. He seemed at least familiar with the term primie. "So . . . it's not a nice name."

Avocato shrugged. "That depends on who uses it and how. The Korian who was fighting alongside me called me 'Trexie' all day. If he were still alive, he'd probably still call me that, but I think we would have ended up friends."

"But it's not a name on Ventrexia," clarified Trexie.

"We don't use it, no."

"So . . . I don't really have a name. Just a . . . just a nickname."

"Think of it as a code name," said Avocato, trying hard to salvage the situation despite a lifetime of Trexie answering to a disparaging name. He shifted to sit on the cool floor, leaning on the bars of the cell and stretching out his sore leg. "A call name. A place holder for now. You're in a unique position, little one, because now that you know, you get to pick your own name."

Pale eyes blinked in astonishment at this unexpected suggestion. "I do?"

"Yes. No one's better equipped than you are to know what works best for you. It's a big decision, because a name says a lot about you. Most people are given a name by their parents, so it's something someone else picked out."

"I don't know any Ventrexian names."

"There's no rush. These things take a lot of consideration."

"Do you have any nicknames?"

"I do." Avocato smiled. He squashed down the memory of Gary's voice and expression as he said 'Mr. Whiskers' and opted for something a hell of a lot safer and far less embarrassing. "My closest friends call me Cato."

"But that's your house name, right?"

"Yes. It's not unusual on Ventrexia to call someone by their house, but generally we only let people we really like do that."

Testing the waters, Trexie took a bite of the meat and slyly asked, "Can I call you that?"

He grinned. "Yes, so long as you promise me you won't do anything on my account that can land you in trouble with Terk or anyone else here."

Trexie moved closer to where Avocato sat nursing his sore leg, curiosity overcoming caution as he asked through a mouthful of meat, "Why do you care?"

Despite the thick bars between them, Avocato looked at Trexie squarely. Even if, as a Ventrexian, he hadn't been naturally hardwired to protect the young, he was ready to fight a war for this boy. He was innocent and charming and bold. "Because you're a child, and you deserve the chance to actually be one without being hungry or worried or afraid or always working. I care because I admire you. You're a survivor to have made it this far. You're incredibly brave for wanting to learn more about yourself and standing up to Terk. Not everyone could do that."

He didn't mean to upset Trexie, but it was instantly clear Avocato had struck a nerve. A deep one. Biting his lip, the boy fell back a step. For a moment he stood there taut as a bowstring, and then he darted away so quickly Avocato didn't dare call after him.

Fighting his own misery, Avocato wondered if he'd said too much or ruined the fragile trust between them. He'd answered honestly, and indeed, he could have said a lot more. He seemed to have overwhelmed his young friend.

Resting his forehead against the horizontal bars, Avocato closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, giving in to despair for a moment. Where the hell was Gary?

Chapter Text

Days passed for Avocato with so little variation that he lost track of them. His only companionship was Trexie, and the twice-daily visits were all he had to look forward to unless the boy managed to slip out after hours. The fascination had not waned any more than their desire to learn about one another. For Trexie, knowledge was worth the risk of Terk's wrath.

More offerings were arriving for the next Deathcropolis. Avocato found the term grotesque, but said nothing to Trexie. It was bad enough they had started a friendship, a bond that would most likely be violently severed in the coming days. The child did not need any more emotional attachments to the people who passed through here. Better for him to think of the victims as cattle, as things, than individuals, and spare his feelings. They were from all over - prisoners, slaves, captured soldiers, people whose circumstances made risking a bloody end better than facing their lives, and the occasional volunteer who actually believed whatever cult teachings the Order of the Twelve spouted and wanted to spill their blood to free the Titans.

One thing both Avocato and Trexie noticed was that Terk made sure Avocato was held in isolation, though Trexie couldn't say if the Holy Helper ordered this or it was Terk's initiative. He remained the only captive in this particular hall until the very end, and even then the offerings were crowded into the cells furthest removed from him. Probably Terk didn't want to risk Avocato rallying them into an organized resistance. It was a very real possibility, because Avocato had survived the first Deathcropolis on account of the alliances he'd made. He was not intended to survive another.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"It's tomorrow. The next Deathcropolis."

Avocato, still keeping his distance from the opening where Trexie was delivering the evening meal, softly asked, "You're sure?"

A little grumble sounded. "Creepy Clarence and his stupid kids are here being annoying, so yeah. I overheard Terk telling him about some of the hunter animals they got. It's weird," continued the boy with a frown. "This is really soon after the last Deathcropolis. Usually we have a lot more offerings and hunters."

"How many days has it been since I arrived?"

"Um . . . maybe twenty? Usually we have just four or five Deathcropolises a year. This is two in a month!"

"You can probably blame that on me," Avocato said. As far as he could tell, Yarno's daily rotations were a good five hours shorter than the standard solar day he was used to. So while three weeks may have passed here, not nearly that long had passed on Tera Con Prime. Better still, shorter days worked to his advantage if a Deathcropolis ended at sundown.

Trexie blinked in astonished realization. "Viro must really want to kill you!"

"He does."

"What about the Order?"

"Mmm." Avocato made a face, remembering Hula's last words to him. "They'd like to see me dead, too."

"Aren't you scared?" Trexie asked with as much concern as curiosity.

"Of Viro and the Order of the Twelve?" He shrugged. "The fact that they have to team up to try to kill one Ventrexian officer and still haven't managed it says a lot about their threat levels."

"And you said they won't even do it themselves."

"Tells you a lot about them, doesn't it?"

Trexie grinned in understanding, impressed by this bravado. "What about tomorrow?"

Avocato considered a moment before forming a reply. In truth, he was more worried about his leg than facing combat. He'd been in many fights before, but he'd never dealt with an infected wound. He could sense a fever was creeping in upon him. He would not say as much to this child, though. Instead, he smiled and said, "Not really. I'm a soldier, so it's a possibility I've faced ever since I put this uniform on."

Wide eyes gazed at him with genuine worry. "I don't know of anyone who's ever made it through two Deathcropolises before."

"You've never known a Ventrexian warlord before, either."

He spoke with courage because it was all he had. Tomorrow would prove if it was enough.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Agony.

Avocato lay trembling and writhing on the hard pallet in his cell, fighting the instinct to scream out in pain. His leg. His back. His head. His arm. Everything was agony. Waves of agony washing over him and dragging him under. He wasn't sure if the bleeding had even stopped. His throat was parched - shouting orders and encouragement, battle cries and releases of fury as dust and death swirled about him all day had torn his throat and taken his voice. He didn't even have the strength to lift the cup of water on the floor beside him and give his body some small relief.

Consciousness slipped away and crawled back, taunting him with fevered nightmares of this horrific day, this day of blood and death and anguish. So many killed. So much blood. Some of it Avocato's. He had lived, but what for? This? This overwhelming agony?

Worse still, people had died for him. They recognized him, Lord Avocato of House Cato, one of the catalysts who had brought a fragile, tentative peace to the galaxy. One Tryvuulian even sheepishly admitted to having read GaryCato fanfic, and many of the offerings expressed admiration and support for his supposed relationship with the son of House Goodspeed. They knew him and decided his life was worth saving, just as peace was worth fighting for. This was their fight, the fight they'd been handed, and Avocato represented the peace they fought for. In the arena, they followed his orders, defended him when one of the Tarshi crabs managed to slice his back, and they died to keep him alive until the sun set. Died for nothing . . .

No. He could not give in that way. He had to live. To honor the ones who had given their lives for him today. To spite the parties who wanted him dead. To hold on until Gary and Nikos found him. Because they would find him, and he was going to marry Gary Goodspeed and usher in the peace that would end the Tera Con Empire. The Lord Commander be damned. Let Viro and the Order of the Twelve be crushed, and with them this twisted notion of releasing Titans upon an innocent universe.

He woke with a start to someone warm beside him. Trexie crouched next to the pallet, anxiously checking him.

"Avocato? Shh. I'm not supposed to be in here, so I don't have much time, but I want to help. Can - can you sit up?"

Avocato nodded, knowing he desperately needed help. He pushed himself and Trexie steadied him gently.

"Here."

The cup of water was put into his hands, but he couldn't lift it. Realizing, Trexie held the cup for him to drink. He drank quickly, heedless of the dirty, metallic taste in his mouth from blood and dust. He felt a small part of himself relax as he took in the liquid, and his headache eased the slightest bit.

"I'll get you more in a sec, but let me get your back first. I think that's the worst part." As he spoke, he helped Avocato peel off his bloodstained tunic, bunching it up on Avocato's lap before picking up a bowl of water with a rag floating in it. "This is gonna sting. There's some disinfectant in here. Try not to make any noise, okay?"

He gripped the uniform and grit his teeth as Trexie carefully, gently cleaned the slice on his back. The Tarshi crab's steel-hard claw had left a jagged slash from his right shoulder to almost under his left armpit, and down his left forearm to the elbow. As he worked to tend the wounds, Trexie kept up a whispered dialogue, as much to distract Avocato as fill him in to events.

"Holy Helper Knievel is, like, stupid excited that you're still alive. I heard him tell Creepy Clarence that you were a chosen by the Titans to take part in three Deathcropolises, something that's only happened a few times before, so that makes you a perfect sacrifice, whatever that means. Clarence tired to buy you again, too. Said he had all these people who wanted to invest in you to be a pit fighter. He's gross. Anyway, the Holy Helper just told him to run along until the next time." He let out a little chuckle. "Clarence didn't like that, but at least he took his kids and left. His daughter kept trying to pet me. Uck."

He moved to cleaning Avocato's arm. Panting in pain, Avocato rasped, "Viro here?"

"No. Not today. He doesn't always show up. Busy being a general, I guess."

"He'll be here next time."

Trexie paused, catching Avocato's meaning a moment later. As soon as he found out Avocato had not been killed this Deathcropolis, Viro would be livid. Enraged. Rampaging. What would that mean for the Tera Con military? The Infinity Guard? Would Sir John know what such a tantrum was about and exploit it to the fullest?

He had to hope.

Trexie picked up a satchel of supplies off the floor. "I've got some medgel. There's not much, and it's on the old side, but if nothing else it'll seal the cuts. Maybe keep it from hurting too much. Got some bandages, too. Just don't tell Terk."

Helping where he could, Avocato let out a sigh of relief as the numbing property of the medgel kicked in, masking at least some of the pain. In short order he'd been securely bandaged, and Trexie helped him back into the ruined tunic that was drying stiff with blood.

"This'll cover the bandages if anyone comes by," said Trexie, gathering his supplies. He dumped the bloodstained water down the waste hole. Then he brought over a tray of food. Avocato's stomach churned at the smell of roasted crab meat. Hopefully the supply would run out quickly. Trexie handed him more water, watching to make sure he drank before refilling the cup again and setting the pitcher just outside the cell door.

"Wait," said Avocato, knowing he needed help with one last thing. "Can you help take my boots off?"

Moving quickly, realizing Avocato could not easily lean over, Trexie tugged off the left boot. When it came to the right one, Avocato gasped, biting back a shout of pain. Startled, Trexie was gentle as he helped ease the knee-high boot off, and he he sucked in his breath at the sight of Avocato's swollen, oozing shin beneath his form-fitting uniform pants.

"What happened?" he demanded sharply, versed enough in wounds to know this was bad.

There was no hiding it. "Stun blast. Point blank range."

"It's infected."

"Yeah."

"I thought you might have a fever." He looked up at Avocato as realization hit. "You came here with that. I'll see what supplies we have. Drink all the water, okay?"

"Promise," said Avocato, knowing he was moments away from collapse. "And Trexie?"

"Yeah?"

He leaned forward, closing his eyes to briefly press his forehead against the boy's in that most Ventrexian display of affection. "Thank you."

Trexie made a little sound like a whine then squeezed Avocato's hand tightly. "I'll be back."

Chapter Text

"Sir John, priority call on the secure line from General Cataloupe."

Though he'd been expecting a call today, John Goodspeed made a show of pretending this was an unwelcome surprise. He wanted his staff to think he was very much at odds still with House Cato. With a slow breath, he set his coffee down as if bracing himself and said in a flat, controlled tone, "Put it through. Make sure I'm not disturbed."

"Yes, sir," said the secretary. "Patching through now."

The well-coiffed image of General Cataloupe appeared over Sir John's desk. Over the past few days, he had come to know Cataloupe better and found himself liking the man as much as he had always respected the general.

"Sir John."

"General Cataloupe. Good day. I'm afraid I don't have much of an update for you."

"I may have something for you, Captain," Cataloupe said thoughtfully. "I just came from a meeting with General Viro about my fleet's participation in next year's war games. The meeting went as expected, and when we were done with the planning session, I brought up the subject of Avocato just as you suggested. You know Viro better than I, but if I had to give a quick impression, I would say he was enraged when I mentioned Avocato. I suspect the office where we met has since been destroyed."

"Most likely. I've known him to flip furniture in the past. What exactly did you say?"

"I simply asked if the Tera Con military had received any updates or heard any rumors about Avocato's location or fate. He turned on me as if I'd aimed a canon at him and demanded to know why I was asking him."

"Subtle." Sir John shook his head. "I'll see what I can do to stir the pot. He might let something slip. I can tell you that we managed to trace Viro's movements in the days following Avocato's disappearance. He took one of the fleet's newer, faster incinerators all the way to the Arith sector, Bru system, on the outer rim, by the most direct route possible. From there he took an aviso, but we lost track of him. He was back on Tera Con Prime four days later."

He was glad Cataloupe didn't ask how they'd tracked Viro. He didn't want to admit to having spies amidst the ranks of the Tera Con military, but he knew perfectly well they had spies in the Infinity Guard.

"That's fast and far to go for lunch," said Cataloupe suspiciously. "The fuel consumption for that would probably run this city for a year."

"Just about," agreed Sir John.

"I'm not familiar with the Bru system, but I know there's not a whole lot in Arith."

"It's right on the edge of the empire. One thing that's not there is any oversight, so the outer rim tends to get away with a lot that wouldn't fly closer to Tera Con Prime."

"I imagine so," Cataloupe said shrewdly, clearly able to imagine the lawlessness of the frontier.

Sir John called up a file, replacing their images with a map of the Bru system. It was pretty unremarkable – two suns, one a white dwarf, a few rocky inner planets, four planets in the habitable zone, two asteroid fields, six gas giants, one of which was large and hot enough to almost be a brown dwarf.

"The habitable planets are Yakko, Yugo, Yolo, and Yarno. None of the planets developed intelligent life independently before all four were colonized by various races. They don't do much, have no notable military, no exports, and they're not even convenient for supply depots."

"Smugglers and fugitives, then?" asked Cataloupe, his image reappearing over the desk.

"Smugglers and fugitives," confirmed Sir John.

"A good place to hide someone you don't want found."

"Very."

"I'll have Captain Nikos start provisioning the Silverwing immediately."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Henry! Thud! Richard! Talk to me, men! What have you got?"

Thud's old office chair - the one he refused to part with or oil - squeaked in protest as he spun to face Tribore. "Ever hear of a little blood-sucking weasel name of Clarence Polkawitz?"

Tribore looked thoughtful for half a second, holding his chin. "Have I heard of this vampire rodent? I haven't. Rings no bells. I'm sure he's heard of me, though. What about him?"

Richard held up a data padd showing a blurry image. "Seems he's got a thing for Ventrexians in uniform."

"Doesn't everybody?" questioned Tribore, taking the padd. He turned it this way and that until he found an angle he liked before actually paying any attention to the image. All six of his eyes grew wide at the sight of Avocato. "Oh. Oh, my. The man himself. He cuts quite the dashing image, now, doesn't he? Too bad it's blurry, this would be a great headshot."

"We all thought so, too," agreed Henry.

The zoomed-in picture showed Avocato – there was no mistaking that color or that blaze down his face or that distinctly Ventrexian fury – in the midst of either a battle-cry or a scream of pain, it was hard to tell. He was clearly alive, moving, and supremely pissed. Fighting, most likely.

"Oh, that is sexy. Once we get him back, your next assignment will be getting me the name of his tailor. Look at that fit!" Bringing himself back to the job at hand, he said, "How long ago was this posted? Any clue where he is?"

"Posted yesterday to Polkawitz's private social media account on SpaceFace," reported Thud. "He was apparently very upset he wasn't allowed to buy Avocato for pit fighting and . . . other . . . pursuits. Yeah. Seems he's tried a few times and thinks it's a crime such a good fighter is going to be wasted. He says, and I quote, 'Oh, for a whip and five minutes alone.' You can thank Henry for the hack. He had to join the VFU to access the pictures, but it turns out, it was worth it."

"VFU?" questioned Tribore, glancing at their resident Infinity Guard mole.

Henry let out a little moan that was muffled by his helmet, which he removed about as often as Thud oiled his office chair, and thunked his head on his desk in unspeakable shame. Bracing himself, Henry quickly muttered, "VentrexianFuckersUnite."

Tribore was so astonished that he sucked his tongue into his mouth, blepless for a rare, few seconds as he processed this information. "Well. They don't mince words. Get me on that mailing list and send any subscription fees to Lady Goodspeed."

"You can have mine," Henry instantly volunteered, not about to judge. "Can I bill my therapy, too?"

"Three sessions and open up about that guilt complex you have."

"No location tracer was attached to the images," continued Thud, ignoring the aside. "We think wherever it was taken is shielded to scramble location data. Scroll through. The images are cropped, but it looks like some sort of arena. You can see stone walls behind him here and what looks like the start of tiered seating. We've got Thunder at the imperial library trying to ID the weeds you can make out behind Avocato. It's a long shot, but she might get lucky. No one else has posted these pics, so we think they originated with this Polkawitz."

"Hmm." Tribore considered, his six eyes narrowing in concentration. "Get me everything on this vampire rodent. Everything he owns, everyone he knows, family, friends, pets, where he goes, when he goes, his favorite restaurant, shoe size – I want it all, I want it stat."

"You got it, boss," promised Thud, his chair letting out an unholy squeak as they all got back to work.

"Good work. Soon as you learn the least thing about the vampire rodent, let me know."

"Where you going?" asked Richard.

Tribore waved the padd. "I have to go make a house call."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Sir John, priority call on the secure line from . . . sir, it's from Lady Goodspeed."

"Put it through. Make sure I'm not disturbed."

Sheryl wore a look of such intensity and focus that John actually felt a sharp quell of something very close to fear. Her jaw was set, command mode was activated, and he knew she had found out something vital.

"John? Emergency meeting at the mansion. The Catos and Gary are already on their way."

"Now?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. His day was far from over. He had two more meetings to attend and reports to review, battle plans to devise . . . the list never ended.

Sheryl's blue eyes narrowed impatiently, and through gritted teeth she ordered, "Right. Now. Goodspeed."

God, how he loved this woman.

"On my way."

Chapter Text

When Gary escorted Lady Cato into the withdrawing room, he was surprised but not to see his mother had pulled in some big guns for the emergency meeting. Tribore, lounging and flirting as usual, was not unexpected, seeing as how he did freelance work for Lady Goodspeed when the need arose. Kevin Van Newton, however, was.

"Professor!" exclaimed Gary, unable to keep from smiling.

"Ah, Gary, dear boy," said Van Newton, standing to greet them. He was neatly dressed, though his hair was its usual chaos and his eyebrows had gone berserk. "Wonderful to see you again so soon, though I gather the circumstances are not ideal."

"Not by a long shot, sir, but I like our odds more with you in the loop," he replied. "Please allow me to introduce Grand Lady Cato, Princess MewMew of Hiis. Lady Cato, Professor Kevin Van Newton. He was my tutor through most of my schooling."

"Indeed," said MewMew, looking at Van Newton with interest as he bowed over her hand. "A pleasure, Professor."

Lady Sheryl, meanwhile, was introducing the general to Tribore. It came as no shock to Gary that Tribore almost fell over himself meeting Cataloupe. Gary knew the rumor monger swung every which way, and Cataloupe was tall, broad, in a sharp uniform, and owned the best mustache in creation. What wasn't to love?

"Sir John will be here soon," said Lady Sheryl, raising her voice slightly to get their attention. "We'll start then. Tribore has a great deal to share."

"Who is this Tribore?" asked Nikos, silently sidling up to Gary as the princess went to meet the six-eyed fashionista.

"Best gossip monger in the empire and my mother's top informant and good friend. He can find out anything about anyone."

"He?" questioned Nikos, confused. He frowned as he peered around Gary for another look at Tribore.

"Yeah, he just transitioned from she." Gary shrugged. "He swaps about every six months or so. It's easy to lose track."

"Ah. There are fish like that on Ventrexia." Nikos shrugged in turn and went back to reviewing reports and manifests for the Silverwing, which he'd been doing since getting orders from Cataloupe. He had been restocking the ship at a breakneck speed, much to the annoyance of his chief engineer, who, being next in command, found herself in charge of having to stow all deliveries. Perfectly aware that Nikos would just restow everything to his own system and satisfaction, Pawlette had made her displeasure known and had only been mollified by the promise of another bottle of alcohol. Gary, who was well aware of the value of a happy mechanic, had already told Nikos to buy plenty of whatever she wanted and to send him the bill.

Coffee and tea were served, and everyone's skill at small talk was put to the test that late afternoon. Gary was a little envious of Nikos, who had an excuse to hide in the corner. The acting captain alone had work to get done, and he removed himself to tap away at the padd he was working on. Van Newton distracted MewMew, Tribore tried to control himself, and Sheryl and Cataloupe discussed politics. Nothing deep or memorable was said, it was all just going through the motions to keep them from losing all couth. Gary hovered on the edge of things, waiting for Nikos to shoot him another sharp question.

They waited the better part of an hour for Sir John to arrive but given his status as Captain of the Guard and the situation (not to mention the nightmare of capital traffic), that was practically lightning-fast. The relief at being able to start was palpable, and while no one quite relaxed, the tension in the air eased a little.

"I reached out to General Viro a few hours after I spoke to you, General," said Sir John in a falsely pleasant tone as he accepted a cup of coffee from his wife. "He seemed rather on edge when I asked about the plans for the war games."

Cataloupe let out a small but derisive snort. "Did you ask about Avocato?"

"Not directly. I didn't want him to think we were on the same page in any way. I mentioned that the traders' guild has petitioned to have the lockdown on the spaceports lifted and asked how it was affecting his fleet. He said he hadn't noticed, which tells me he's simply ignored it, as expected."

"Speaking of Avocato," hinted Lady Sheryl, setting her coffee aside.

"You found something?" pressed Sir John, able to read her body language.

She looked to Tribore, who sat up straight and picked up a well-used padd from the table beside him. Gary smacked Nikos on the arm to get his attention and moved to stand closer, not wanting to miss a word.

"I had my team do a deep dive into social media trying to find any mention of Avocato," he said, enjoying their complete attention. "Since his coloring is distinct even for a Ventrexian and given the present popularity of GaryCato, I figured if anyone has spotted Avocato, they'd be bragging about it. Turns out I was right, but not quite the way I expected."

He turned on the padd and handed it to Lady Cato. Gary and Nikos leaned over the back of the sofa to see. All three of them gasped at the grainy image of Avocato's raw fury.

Lady Sheryl handed extra pads with the same information to Cataloupe and Sir John. Both men were horrified at what they saw as Tribore hastily explained.

"These images were posted almost two solar days ago on a private SpaceFace account belonging to a supposed merchant slash snake oil dealer by the name of Clarence Polkawitz. In his post, he was highly upset because the people holding Avocato wouldn't sell him so Polkawitz could make him a pit fighter."

Something coursed through Gary at Tribore's report, a jolt, a shock of unfamiliar emotion midway between panic and despair. Beside him, Nikos made a gasping little sound of pain that neatly expressed what Gary was feeling.

"There were no location tracers on the images," continued Tribore, all business now. "We surmise wherever they were taken was shielded from tracking. Captain Avocato appears to be fighting in an arena of some sort. I have one of my people at the imperial library trying to figure out where he is based on the vegetation you can see in the background."

Cataloupe and Sir John exchanged a significant look, but waited for Tribore to finish. Tribore called up an image of an unattractive little alien with gray-green skin and what might have been a hint of a mustache on his noseless face.

"I've got the rest of my team digging up everything they can find on this Clarence Polkawitz. He's a Foog, though he hasn't been to Foogatz in about fifty solar years as far as we can tell. Impossible to guess his age because it's different on every form and deed we've traced back to him. He's very shady and doesn't seem to care about collateral damage in his dealings, so long as he turns a profit. We basically haven't found anything he won't do for money. He owns what he calls the Interstellar Null Zone, which is essentially a planetoid-sized junkyard and recycling center over by Alpha Centauri. He has two teenage children, both adopted. The elder is a Tryvuulian male and the younger is a Serpentian female. He also owns a VX-9 Light Runner called the Crimson Light. He uses it as a grocery-getter, not for racing, which says a lot about his ego."

"Where does he travel most?" asked Cataloupe.

"We've tracked receipts from twenty-three different systems, from here in Sector Prime all the way to the outer rim."

"Arith?" pressed the general.

Tribor's six eyes blinked in surprise. "Yes."

"John?" Sheryl asked.

"Viro made a trip to the Bru system in Arith sector the day following Avocato's disappearance," said Sir John, not even bothering to give Viro the courtesy of his title. "He didn't return until four days later."

"What about the lockdown?" demanded Gary. "If he was on Tera Con Prime, he shouldn't have been able to leave!"

"There's not a whole lot I can do in that case, son," said Sir John. "He's got a few more ships than I do."

"Oh. Yeah."

"It may be for the best, anyway" Nikos said. "Are there any habitable planets in this Bru system? Any type of settlements?"

"There are four habitable planets, Commander, plus mining colonies on several of the moons orbiting gas giants in the system," Sir John answered. "It's on the very fringes of the empire, and pretty lawless."

"Sir John," said Van Newton, looking uncommonly focused, "What are the names of the habitable planets?"

"Their names are Yakko, Yolo, Yugo, and Yarno."

"Tribore," whispered Lady Sheryl in a tight aside.

"Already on it, hot lady momma," he replied softly, sending new orders to his team.

The professor rose. "If you could have me driven to the library, I believe with this new information, I may be able to give Tribore's researcher some assistance in pinpointing that vegetation."

It was a grossly understated offer. Van Newton's scientific reasoning and approach to the problem would be invaluable.

"Gary," said Sir John.

"On it, Dad," Gary said, already calling for a transport to be brought around to the back entrance and an escort to bring Van Newton there. Gary wouldn't put it past the old man to wander for days in the manor house. He looked at his tutor fondly, and said with heartfelt gratitude, "Thank you, Professor."

Van Newton smiled warmly. "The pleasure is mine, my dear boy."

"Her name is Shannon Thunder," said Tribore. "I'll have her meet you at the main entrance."

KVN arrived to escort the professor, and all three Goodspeeds fixed him with a lethal glare to just do as he was told. Van Newton hastily took his leave, aware of how annoying this particular unit could be.

"I've got my people researching the Bru system," announced Tribore, glancing up from his padd as soon as the doors closed. "Lawless is too kind a word."

"Tribore," said Sir John, "have your team look into any involvement of the Order of the Twelve on any of those worlds."

Cataloupe, meanwhile, was looking at the handful of pictures showing Avocato fighting. "Barbaric."

Closing his eyes, Nikos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was clearly bracing himself, and Cataloupe quirked an eyebrow at him. "Commander?"

"He's injured," confessed Nikos. "Avocato. A stun blast at point-blank range in his right shin."

"This wasn't reported," stated Cataloupe in stern tones.

"No, sir. Avocato, Lieutenant Yukidama, and I were walking back to our transport two days before . . . all this began when we were confronted by some Infinity Guard officers spoiling for a fight. They got what they wanted. Unfortunately, one of them drew a blaster and Avocato was shot in the leg."

"Did he get it treated?" asked Sheryl, concerned for this young man she'd never met.

"He refused anything outside of basic first aid. The Silverwing's medic was on leave on Ventrexia, the doctor the Cato family uses here on Tera Con Prime was on vacation, and if he'd gone to the base hospital, an inquiry would have been opened. Avocato did not want to give the Infinity Guard or General Viro anything to use against him."

"It should have been reported," Sir John insisted.

Nikos raised his chin. "My captain declined to do so, sir, since he could place no faith in the discretion or reliability of the investigators, given the prevalent attitude towards Ventrexians in general and him in particular."

Zing. Gary grimaced internally, but having witnessed the truth of Nikos' statement, he could only agree with Avocato's logic. Sir John looked as if he wanted to argue, but couldn't. Gary jumped in, hoping to diffuse a bit of the tension.

"Avocato's leg was really hurting by the time we were summoned before the Lord Commander," he blurted. "I think it was the boots."

"His others were destroyed by the stun blast." Nikos sounded perfectly miserable. "He was resting and tending to the wound, but it just wasn't healing like it should have."

"Do you know who shot him?" asked Sir John.

Looking at him squarely, Nikos simply said, "Yes." It was plain he was not going to name names without a direct order, and even then he'd probably ask for it in writing.

"John," warned Lady Sheryl, her tone telling him to drop it. Not bound by official channels, she was more inclined to let the young men sort the issue out on their own.

All this while, Lady Cato had not moved or spoken. She just sat there gazing at the blurry image of her youngest child held as a prisoner and forced to fight for his life in a dusty arena for the entertainment of others. Her beautiful, brave son who had somehow become the center of the universe.

"I will destroy the people who did this to my son."

They all paused and looked at her. The oath was all the more terrible for how calmly and how softly she spoke it, and no one present doubted that she wouldn't see it through. Fury seemed to settle down upon her like a mantle, and she wrapped herself tightly in its folds. Everyone present was reminded that even though she was not a soldier, Princess MewMew of Hiis was the daughter of an ancient line of kings, emperors, and warriors, and her word was her bond.

Nikos, with the closest ties to her, was first to speak. "I swear to you, my lady cousin, that I will do everything in my power to return him safely to you."

"Indeed," agreed Cataloupe, making it a promise.

"Same," swore Gary, "minus the cousin part."

"I think," said Sir John, "I can speak for everyone who has a stake in this, not just the people in this room, but everyone who supports this peace. We all feel the same way, and we will do whatever it takes to save Avocato."

Off to the side, Tribore smiled in sly satisfaction. "And don't ever underestimate the power of fandom."

Chapter Text

"You're not serious."

Derek stared at Gary with slack-jawed shock written all over his face as his wing commander dropped the mother of all bombshells on him.

"A top-secret mission," confirmed Derek, not looking away from Gary's face on the screen. "To the outer rim."

"Like I said," Gary replied. "And it's not just top secret. It's personal. So, before I tell you another thing, I need to know if you're in or not. If you commit to this, you can't back out, and not only can you not talk about it on base, even among yourselves, but you have to be ready to move the instant I give the word."

"You're going?" Bluestein asked, regarding him shrewdly. It was clear he was intrigued.

"Yes."

"Good enough for me. I'm in, Captain."

"Why us?" wondered Derek. "We're the home guard!"

"We're the Infinity Guard," Gary corrected. He knew Derek was arguing just to get some breathing space. "And like I said, it's personal. There's a reason it's me and there's a reason it's you."

"You know what I mean, and you don't have to ask, Gar."

"I need a verbal."

"Like I'd let you go without me. Count me in."

Bluestein and Derek looked at Curabb seated beside them before the screen. The Suia Carm shrugged.

"I got no plans for this weekend. I'm in, Captain. So, what's the mission?"

"We're rescuing Avocato."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Nikos looked up with a confused frown at the howls of disbelief and shouting rising from the comm unit Gary was using. He shook his head. Infinity Guard. He helped himself to another cookie and got back to work.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"What the hell, Gary?" wailed Derek, looking horrified.

Gary had the unit's volume down to a whisper after the initial outburst, and he just sat back and waited for them to tire themselves out. It took a minute, and he wasn't sure if this was a sign of their dedication to him and his interests or their hatred of Avocato.

"You done yet?" he finally asked when they seemed to have run out of steam.

Somewhat calm - or at least, worn out enough to express himself without screaming - Derek demanded, "Why Avocato?"

For the sake of his shell-shocked gunner, Gary counted off on his fingers, "One, because Avocato's the one who needs rescuing. Two, because he's the most fan-freaking-tastic kisser I have ever locked lips with and not only do I intend to go a hell of a lot further than just necking, I really, really want to perfect French kissing a Ventrex-"

"Okay, okay, a few too many details there, Gar." Bluestein held up his hands to get him to cool it with talk of swapping spit with the enemy.

"My ears are bleeding," groaned Derek, clapping his hands against his head.

They were almost as bad as Tribore with the high school dramatics. Gary shook his head.

"Shut up," he ordered without mercy for this sudden blush of prudishness, "You asked. I told you it was personal. And three, there's this thing called peace I'd like to try in my lifetime. We're getting a little sample right now. I'd like it to be permanent. We need Avocato to make that happen. Capish?"

Thus chastised by their friend and wing commander, the three officers fell silent.

"One more thing," he said, casting a quick glance behind him. Out of sight in the next room of Gary's suite, Nikos worked on his padd while working his way through a box of cookies. "There is to be no grumbling about anything. I mean that. No comments, no teasing, no digs, no joking, no snarky little asides. As pilots we get away with a lot, but in this case, I expect you to act like the Infinity Guard officers that you are, and to represent the best the Captain of the Guard has to offer. Spit and polish, gentlemen."

He was confident Nikos wouldn't hesitate to arrest any one of them. As hotshot pilots, the DragonHawks were used to being the focus of hero worship and awe. None of them had a clue about shipboard life outside of the odd fleet deployment. Being a planet-based unit, they rarely left Tera Con Prime's space. Gary strongly suspected the crew of the Silverwing would be anything but impressed.

"When we're together, I'll brief you fully. Until then, be ready. When I call, we've got to scramble."

"Yes, sir," they answered over one another.

"Thanks, guys. We'll talk soon."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

With the stab of a button, Derek powered down the comm unit. For a long moment, the trio of pilots just sat and stared at the blank screen before them.

"We're shipping out with the Ventrexians," Bluestein realized.

Derek's head hit the station keyboard with a loud thud and his muffled voice confirmed, "We're shipping out with the Ventrexians."

Curabb shrugged. "Guess we better pack."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Gary powered down the unit, then went to check on Nikos. The Ventrexian had set up shop on the desk in the study, looking far more at home there than Gary ever had.

"How are you getting along? Need anything?" he asked, trying not to sigh. He knew they weren't moving fast enough. Avocato could be hurt. Dead. Starving. Alone. Afraid. Afraid of being forgotten.

"Almost done," said Nikos. The fact that he looked up to speak reinforced his words, since for the past two days he'd only stopped working when absolutely necessary. Even then, General Cataloupe had to order him to stand down for sleeping and eating. "She'll be ready when the word comes."

"Good. How are the cookies?" Gary helped himself to one as he asked, trying to divert himself from his own grim musings. This was the last box of what Avocato had sent for his second gift. HUE had made sure to freeze them with Gary away for so long.

"I'm surprised at how good they are, especially with whatever type of milk this is the kitchen sent up." He picked up the cookie from the plate beside his padd, regarding it with interest before asking, "Do they make these with hot peppers, too?"

"What?" Gary felt his jaw drop in dismay at the very suggestion of mixing chili peppers with chocolate chips. He felt his grip tighten protectively on the innocent little pastry in his hand. "Okay - whoa! Whoa! Hard no. Time out, buckaroo! You're talking blasphemy there, Nikos. Like, one does not adulterate the purity and perfection of the chocolate chip cookie by mixing in . . . in . . ." He twitched and had to force himself to form the word. It came out in a hiss. "Vegetables."

"Why not?" was the sincere question. Nikos took another bite. He was looking way too cute and harmless to be real.

"Because that would make them good for you, and that defeats the purpose of a cookie. They have a sacred duty to be fattening and chewy, not healthy."

"Have you never heard of healthy snacks?"

"That's exclusively a Ventrexian thing."

"Liar. Have you tried these chocolate chip cookies with hot peppers?"

"No! And I don't want to! Ever!"

"So, you don't know if it's good or not."

"It's not! I can tell you now!"

"That's an unfounded argument."

"To an unnatural suggestion."

"Do you want to talk about it, Gary?"

"No! Go back to work!"

"I'm almost done here. I have time. We could talk it out."

"I'm not talking to you, Nikos!"

"You just did."

"No! No pepper cookie talk, yo!"

"I've hit a nerve."

"No! No! You threaten cookiedom with your vegetable additives!"

"Peppers are fruits on Ventrexia. Isn't the wheat used for baking a vegetable?"

Gary hadn't the least clue, but he wasn't backing down. "No! Wheat's a . . . planty plant . . . mcplant. Not a vegetable. Or a fruit. Some third, starchy thing."

"You're unreasonably passionate about cookies."

"What? I may be passionate, but I'm not unreasonable! Look up reasonable in the Encyclopedia Galactica and you will find a picture of Gary Goodspeed smiling and holding up a pepper-free cookie."

"Will this trigger nightmares? We can still talk about it."

"Not with you!"

"I think we should. It might help."

"You're the one who needs help! The only one I'm talking cookies with is the chef, and I'm going to order her to never, ever put pepper of any kind in a cookie."

"What if the recipe calls for it?"

"Then it's not a cookie."

"Then perhaps she'll be willing to make hot pepper chocolate chip not-cookies."

"I hate you."

"It's mutual." He glanced at the empty glasses on the edge of the desk, then at the half-filled box of cookies. "We're out of milk."

He'd noticed. He also noticed his mood was vastly improved. "Yeah, I'll send for more."

"Get some hot sauce, too."

"Hard no."

"Coward."

Chapter Text

The heavy trim of his cape slapped against the back of his legs as General Viro strode down the hall to headquarters office. He moved so quickly that his two aides almost had to jog to keep pace. Given his race's relative lack of facial expressions, at a glance it would have been impossible to tell that the general was furious to the point of wanting to erupt.

He had just come from a meeting with High Helper Hula. That in and of itself was enough to make anyone furious. The Order of the Twelve treated everyone with a superior condescension, as if they alone of all the people in the universe had any culture or understanding of higher ideals. Hula was undoubtedly the most pompous and arrogant being Viro had ever had the misfortune to deal with, and that list included both the Lord Commander and his Captain of the Guard and every Cato who ever drew breath. She treated Viro as if he were a child, and a stupid one at that. It was no comfort that she treated everyone like that, but it seemed the High Helper went out of her way to patronize Viro.

Today's infuriation had come in the form of an exultant Hula gleefully telling him that Avocato was not dead.

"We have the most marvelous and joyful news to share, General!" she had exclaimed. "A miracle of faith and devotion! The Titans have chosen a perfect sacrifice!"

An excited and happy Hula was more than enough to put Viro's every nerve on end and his every instinct on highest alert. She smiled that thin, grotesque, vapid smile that made him want to snap every bone in her body. Knowing she would tell him whether he cared or not, Viro just waited in stony silence while her visionary orbs darted about like an annoying swarm of gnats.

"You are overwhelmed, we see! We understand! Rejoice! Captain Avocato has survived the second Deathcropolis! He is thrice blessed to take part in the sacred battle of champions a third time and therefore has achieved perfection!"

Viro stared, refusing to believe he'd heard her correctly.

"What?"

Smug and superior, Hula let out a tinkling little laugh that even to Viro's sensors sounded wrong issuing out of an animated mummy.

"Avocato of House Cato," she said, speaking as if he'd just woken up from a decade in a coma and couldn't remember anything. "The little lover of the Goodspeed bo-"

"He's not dead?" bellowed Viro, sending all the orbs zooming away to hide behind the High Helper. His hands twitched in the desire to strangle Hula on the spot. How had that vermin survived not one, but two Deathcropolis battles? Ventrexians were resilient, but to persist this long, Avocato had to be receiving help. Was the Order going gentle on him, hoping for a third round for this ridiculous belief Avocato's death would release their precious Titans? "You swore he would die!"

"And so he shall, General, so he shall! Holy Helper Knievel reports that Avocato is wounded. Calm yourself. He will not soon recover. Not soon enough for the final battle."

Being told to calm down by this creature was the equivalent of shooting antimatter into the heart of a star. Lunging forward, Viro slammed her against the wall of the Order sanctuary, pinning her bony frame in place.

"Witch! Cease your patronizing! You promised me weeks ago the Ventrexian would die in the arena!"

"He will!"

Suddenly the thing he held in his grasp was hideous, a dark monstrosity with a spiky exoskeleton, as if Hula had morphed into something twisted and demonic. More twisted and demonic. Was it an illusion or her natural form? Viro didn't care. If it was real he wasn't intimidated, and if it was trickery, she probably expected him to release her. She would get no satisfaction from him.

"We have seen it," hissed this thing that was Hula.

"Liar!"

"No one can survive a third Deathcropolis. Not wounded as he is."

"You said he wouldn't make it through a second Deathcropolis! Don't underestimate him! He's a Ventrexian warlord! He's survived this far."

"Peace, General Viro," she said, her voice cloying despite her grotesque appearance.

He shoved her against the wall again for his own satisfaction. "Why should I believe you? You said weeks ago Avocato would die and you come back a liar! His allies are searching for him. If they find him . . ."

"Who can find him? Who is looking? You said the Captain of the Guard is scouring Tera Con Prime and the Ventrexian bitch is sharpening her claws to eviscerate him. Who is left? Young Captain Goodspeed? He may be in love with Avocato, but neither of their families approve. Avocato is cousin to Ventrexia's king and will never marry without the consent of his parents. There is too much animosity for it to be set aside so easily. Besides, if his people do find Avocato, they will be too late."

"If they find him," ground out Viro, "they will trace him back to us!"

She shook her head, slowly fading back to her usual skeletal appearance. "The Order has many acolytes who will be proud to take credit for his capture and death, just as we are sure you have many officers who will do the same."

Oh, how he despised her. She was mocking him again. She knew perfectly well how universally hated Viro was. His soldiers might follow him, but it was not out of love or respect.

"Nothing anyone says will matter if he's rescued!"

"Then they must not find him . . . alive." She slowly smiled, her cold hand peeling his fingers off her throat with a strength that surprised him . . . unless she was manipulating his mind to make him think she was so strong. It was impossible to tell. Just as it was impossible to tell if the idea that took form in that instant was his own or Hula's. Either way, it was the most terrible yet satisfying solution possible.

There was only one way to guarantee Avocato's death: do it himself.

Seething, Viro headed to his office for a scheduled call with General Cataloupe about upcoming war games. Of all the individuals involved with this whole mess, Cataloupe was actually the most easily tolerated of the lot. It wasn't saying much, but it was better than dealing with Sir John.

Twenty minutes later, their meeting was concluded and Viro was revising his opinion of General Cataloupe, reclassifying him as a Goodspeed-level aggravation. All had been going well and perfect neutrality had been maintained until Cataloupe had to start asking about Avocato. Having that damned Ventrexian thrown in his face again today was more than Viro could stomach. If he had a stomach. He though perhaps he had reacted too strongly to Cataloupe's questions to be very convincing. Snapping and raising his voice at a general, especially one in command of a fleet as powerful as the Ventrexians, was not the wisest course of action, especially when Viro was trying to act as if he knew nothing about Avocato's fate. Not that Cataloupe would have any reason to suspect Viro. Even if he did, who would dare accuse him?

The notion that his rivals might actually be on to what he had done burned in Viro's mind and would not let him rest. He let out a long, low, vented breath that did nothing to soothe his raging emotions. Damn Cataloupe! Damn Goodspeed! Damn Hula! But most of all, damn that miserable bastard Avocato for not dying the day Viro had dumped him in the Deathcropolis. And damn him again for surviving another round of the death games. Viro was being forced to take direct action again. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

Panting, Viro abruptly came back to the moment. His desk was smashed where he had flung it against the wall, breaking the comm unit there. Lights flashed as his secretary and aides tried to raise him. They must have heard his rampage, though it wasn't anything unusual. With a growl, his anger unabated, Viro threw off the cumbersome cape and exited by the rear door, the one that would allow him to leave the building undetected. He needed to go beat something. Something he could pretend was Avocato.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"The child. The Ventrexian."

It was highly unusual for Holy Helper Knievel to visit the lower levels of the Deathcropolis arena. Normally he resided in the open, airy, and clean upper levels with his handful of Order Helpers. For him to show up at the door of Terk's quarters was not a good sign, especially since he was smiling.

"Trexie," provided Terk instantly. "Has he bothered you, Holy Helper? He can be punished."

With annoying serenity, Knievel laughed faintly, brushing the suggestion aside with a graceful flick of his hand. He caught the immature eye bobbing about his head, cupping it and soothing it like it was some kind of pet. "No, no, nothing of the sort. Let the child be. He has a fascination with our Ventrexian offering, yes?"

"Yes," mumbled Terk, annoyed by the reminder. "I've told them both to stop, but they won't."

"Let the Trexie child be, friend Terk," the Holy Helper ordered, sounding unreasonably accommodating. It was evident he very much wanted the bond between Trexie and Avocato to continue. "His interest in his own kind is understandable and he helps the Ventrexian offering to survive. We of the Order are forbidden from direct interference, but it would be most distressing to lose a perfect sacrifice to something as insignificant as a few scrapes or an infection. Let the little one serve the Order in his own way."

An member of the Order of the Twelve being sympathetic to anyone was reason for fear. Terk nodded, understanding perfectly well that he was to turn a blind eye to Trexie's theft of medical supplies. Let them use the brat. Trexie had chosen his side, for all the good it would do him. "As you will, Holy Helper."

Another weird smile as Knievel released the eye, gently urging it to join the others about his head. "Do not concern yourself, friend Terk. In the end, his efforts will all be for naught."

Chapter Text

"I brought you something to help with the fever," whispered Trexie, crouching by the slot where he delivered the food. He poured water into a cup and set it on the tray alongside a small dish holding three pills. "They taste awful, but they work."

His body felt heavy and sore as Avocato slowly rose and moved towards the tray, his injured back protesting at every step. He could not help but feel a surge of affection for this boy. Trexie was clearly anxious for him and went out of his way to check on Avocato often throughout the course of his day. He had appropriated more blankets and refilled the water pitcher every time he came, urging Avocato to drink more.

"Take two now, and then the third one if they don't work in a few minutes, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

Avocato had not the least idea of what the pills were, but it didn't matter at this point. Infection had set in and without treatment, his chances were slim. Trexie's efforts were working to hold off the inevitable, but he could only treat the symptoms. The root cause was beyond Trexie's ability and resources. Avocato knew what would happen eventually. He only hoped that if he had to die, his death inconvenienced, pissed off, and exposed as many of his enemies as possible. In his heart, though, he knew he would never be allowed to live so long as to die of blood poisoning. The Order of the Twelve wanted him to be killed in the Deathcropolis, and they must be planning something special and spectacular to finish him off. His best bet was to show them up by dying first, but he couldn't do that to Trexie.

"Can I ask you something, Avocato?"

He grimaced as the pills dissolved slightly in his mouth, and he deliberately let Trexie see his reaction just to prove the boy correct. The pills were disgusting, and Avocato was rewarded with a suppressed smirk and a tiny snort as Trexie looked away to hide his amusement. Avocato quickly drank the cup of water and immediately held it out for a refill.

"Anything you want, Little One."

The diminutive earned him a wry but pleased smile. Trexie lowered his voice even more as he asked,

"Why does Viro want you dead so bad? What did you do?"

Avocato hesitated, not expecting that and not sure how much to tell. He had given a few brief facts in conversation, but perhaps he should tell all since so much had changed so rapidly. As circumstances developed, the rumor had become the truth. What had seemed impossible a month ago was now a fact. It might help his cause for his keeper to understand what had landed him in this pit. What to say?

"It's a long story."

Trexie shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I have nowhere to be."

"Alright, then," he said, and sat down on the floor closest to where Trexie waited expectantly, shifting to find a position that wasn't unbearable. "My family, House Cato, along with all our retainers, has been at war with House Goodspeed and their Infinity Guard since before I was born. Looking back now, the reasons for fighting are pretty foolish, but Ventrexians have tempers and humans are stubborn, so . . ."

So, he wound on softly, giving Trexie as thorough a history as he could, with occasional asides and tangents as his rapt audience looked for clarification on certain points. He told him about some of the battles their families had fought, the political maneuvering, the involvement of the Order of the Twelve, the quickly broken treaties, occasions when they managed to fight alongside the Infinity Guard for defense of the empire. It was a brief sketch of events spanning three decades, but knowledge was power. He told enough for Trexie to understand the impact the rumor had upon the galaxy and the dilemma a possible alliance between the Goodspeeds and the Catos posed for the empire.

"Wait!" Trexie laughed, delighted with this tale that sounded more like a soap opera than his friend's personal history. "Everybody thinks you and this human Gary are in love?"

Avocato found himself laughing along. The motion hurt the open wound on his back, so after a moment he had to content himself with a smile. It wasn't even forced in light of Trexie's shock. "They do."

"And you never met?"

"Not until he dragged me out onto a dance floor. That one move sent shock waves through the whole empire."

"So who started the whole rumor?"

He shook his head. That was still the biggest mystery. "We have no idea."

"Betcha it was Viro."

Trexie seemed to have a particular dislike for the general. Avocato couldn't blame him. Aloud he said,

"If it was, it backfired completely."

"Mmm. Yeah, I guess, if he was trying to get rid of one family or the other. So this peace has upset Viro's keeping the empire balanced?" asked Trexie, plainly enjoying nuances of the situation.

"It's the Lord Commander who keeps things in check. Viro just does his dirtier work so the Lord Commander can pretend he's not responsible. I'm sure that even if he didn't order Viro and High Helper Hula to kidnap me, he's fine with me disappearing off of Tera Con Prime and not knowing anything about it. He'd much rather have me dead than married to the heir of House Goodspeed."

"Do people really think Gary's going to ask you to marry him?"

"Yes."

"That's crazy!"

"Oh? Is it? Why?"

"WHAT? You never met!"

"Except everyone thought we were had and thought we were courting. You see, in human culture, they might date a number of people, but a courtship is exclusive and almost always leads to marriage. For a Ventrexian of a noble family like mine, the only acceptable outcome of being that deeply into a relationship with anyone would be marriage. These . . . cultural aspects were immediately understood by both sides of the war. Everyone assumed we were very serious about a relationship. We had to be, given our families have been fighting our lifetimes and our standing in society. So, as soon as people heard about the rumor, all the fighting stopped. Almost everyone wanted peace and cooperation. Thirty-plus years is a long time to be fighting, and everyone is tired."

"But didn't you say the Lord Commander wanted the war to keep going so neither family could get real strong?"

"Yes. So, if we stop fighting, then what?"

Trexie frowned, thinking hard. "You're dangerous."

"Exactly. And what would happen if Gary and I actually got along, fell in love, and united the two most powerful houses in the empire?"

Trexie's pale eyes grew round and his jaw dropped. After a moment he said, "Well . . . either you'd have no reason to fight a war or a lot more reasons!"

He hadn't thought of things that way. Avocato grinned at Trexie's earnestness. He was so animated, and his reactions were so entertaining that Avocato was able to forget his discomfort and fever for a while. It was something a relief to be able to tell someone new about Gary. Just talking about him was a comfort. "Well, that's exactly what we decided to do."

"How do you decide to fall in love?" was the incredulous question.

Viewing the situation from Trexie's detached perspective, it did seem far-fetched and hopelessly romantic. It was Avocato's turn for a shrug. "You make a decision and then you get to work. Just like being the captain of a starship. You make a plan, and then you make it happen. We decided Gary would court me by Ventrexian traditions. It's actually been a lot of fun."

"Well, are you?"

In love. Was he? As Gary would say, Oh, hell yeah!

"At first, no. I wasn't. Couldn't stand him. Now I have to say yes. I love him very much."

"Enough to marry him?"

"In a heartbeat. Gary is a very good person. He's kind and charming and he cares deeply."

"What's charming?"

"It means there are a lot of little things about him and what he says and does that not everybody is going to like, but I think is really cute."

"Cute?" squeaked Trexie, scandalized anew by the word coming out of his hero's mouth. "I thought you were a Ventrexian warlord! You don't say cute!"

"I am!" insisted Avocato in kind. "We're allowed to think our boyfriends are cute."

"I don't think that's one of the rules."

"I checked. It is."

Trexie pointed in mock accusation. "You just made that up!"

"So did you!"

They shared a laugh of genuine amusement and understanding. Listening to those soft giggles, Avocato found himself gazing at Trexie and suddenly seeing him in a new and different light. In the few weeks he'd been captive here on Yarno, this boy's welfare had become incredibly important to him. No, it was more than important. It was everything. It was a feeling that Trexie was different from a friend, more than a brother or cousin. Given the chance, there was nothing Avocato would not do to protect this child. He wondered if this adoring protectiveness was what it was like to have a son. If it was, it was wonderful and terrifying.

Leaning back against the stone wall behind him, Avocato pondered this revelation. Did Gary want children? He wasn't sure, but it seemed that Gary would enjoy being a father. It struck Avocato that Gary Goodspeed was himself an overgrown child, so odds were good he'd be able to relate to a kit quite readily. On Ventrexia, children were considered wealth. To have a child was to be entrusted with a treasure from the goddess Ventrexia herself. Generally, even noble families didn't much care where children came from, which was why they had such a wide definition of family. Surrogates and adoptions were common, and only in certain circumstances was legitimacy an issue. Even then, determination and creative genealogy could always skirt the issue. This was also why Avocato's mother was constantly hounding Nikos to give her grandchildren even though Nikos' offspring would be distant cousins at best. MewMew didn't care. She just wanted more children running about who she could spoil, and poor Nikos was her closest target.

He wondered what value humans placed on their offspring. Based on his discussion with Sir John and everything Gary had shared about his parents, it seemed the Goodspeeds, at least, loved their son dearly and indulged him while not being blind to his faults. Not unlike his own parents, actually.

Trexie had truly been a blessing to Avocato from the start. Caring for him, treating his injuries, and sharing information aside, his companionship had meant as much if not more to Avocato. Trexie had saved him, kept him sane and alive. Despite his hard and cold life and being forced to grow up far too quickly, Trexie was still an unexpected speck of warmth and light on this dismal planet. And watching him laugh, something he did . . . not often, but more freely now than he had when they first started talking, Avocato knew that if for no other reason, he had to live long enough to make sure Trexie made it off Yarno. It was the least he could do for what he owed this boy.

Besides, they had shared food from the same plate not once, but almost daily. On Ventrexia, that gesture was nothing short of sacred.

Trexie leaned forward, smiling and teasing as he said, "Well, if this Gary is cool enough to make you lose your cool, Cato, I hope I get to meet him some day."

"You will, Little One," promised Avocato, as much to Trexie as himself.

Chapter Text

"Any luck, Professor?"

Van Newton started, blinking in surprise as he yanked himself back from reading about Yolo's migratory flying fish (gigantic creatures which apparently weren't fish at all but a sub-species of scaled birds with teeth and a woefully understudied species) to the here-and-now of researching in the Imperial Library. His companion, Shannon Thunder, had figured out quickly that regular reminders of their mission were necessary since Van Newton was discovering a multitude of rabbit holes to fall down and he was shamefully easy to distract.

Clearing his throat, Van Newton outlined his latest theory. "The plants in the image appear to have a simple linear shape with a sheaf-type growth pattern not unlike the grass you see in the parks here on Tera Con Prime. It's one of the most common forms chlorophyll-producing plants evolve. I believe this rules out the second planet as a possible location due to its high gravity," he said, avoiding all mention of the planet names lest someone be listening in. "You rarely find this blade-type leaf as ground cover on high gravity planets. Spongy, spreading-type weeds like lichen are more common."

It was a broad statement that might be completely wrong, but with the flora of four large planets to sort through, severely limited information, and time being of the essence, they needed to narrow down the focus. Generalities had to rule the search. No official planetary surveys had been conducted that they could locate. Planet-wide surveys were expensive, time-consuming affairs and for a backwater system like Bru, hardly worth the empire's effort. They found some information, but its reliability was in question. Still, they went with what they had.

Shannon looked thoughtful, taking a seat beside Van Newton. They had found a private little nook well removed from most patrons and surrounded by high shelves containing everything from books to data chips. The table was stacked high with not just books and information on plants, but weather and insects and a few other unrelated topics like hover car repair and bead embroidery. Shannon had done that as a distraction in case anyone noticed their interest in the Bru system and had reason to report it. They made a surprisingly good team as they dug up information and bounced ideas and suggestions off one another.

"That leaves us three planets. What other factors can we rule out to speed this up? Gravity? Atmosphere? Temperature? Weather? Wind? Seasons? Populations?"

For a long moment, the old man was still, thinking. Finally, he said, "Populations? Hmm. Pull up the database and let's crack on, shall we?"

Her eyes narrowed, sensing an inkling of an idea was forming in his head. It was late and they were both tired, but there was no way she was going to leave without an answer and disappoint Tribore. "Let's."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Nikos closed and secured the lid on the case Sir John had just delivered to him with a satisfied nod. "Thank you, Sir John. General Cataloupe has instructed me to wait until we make the rendezvous to use this."

"I hope it proves unnecessary, but I'd rather you have it if needed."

"Agreed, sir. Thank you."

Thick carpeting muffled their footsteps as Sir John escorted Nikos through the manor. It was very early in the morning, and only robots moved about the house cleaning.

"The driver is coming around the back now," said Sir John. "He'll take you directly to the spaceport. Gary will be heading back to base inside of an hour to meet up with his team. Send word to General Cataloupe as soon as the Silverwing is ready. When I lift the lock down, there's going to be a lot of confusion and traffic. I'll see to it you're granted clearance to depart immediately. Get out of Tera Con's system as fast as you can. Gary's team is going to take advantage of the confusion to slip out as well. They should be just a few hours behind you, but they will need to refuel when you meet."

"We're ready for it. The ship is fully provisioned and I have orders for a shakedown cruise. My crew is aware they'll be getting some temporary crew mates."

Sir John suppressed a smirk. Ventrexians were not the most welcoming of shipmates, though their curiosity about Gary would catch all their attention. At the base of the stairs, a SAMES met them carrying a tray with a steaming travel mug full of coffee for Nikos. A sigh of appreciation escaped the Ventrexian.

"I figured you'd need it, Commander. As soon as Professor Van Newton gives us anything definitive, General Cataloupe will be in touch. Given the distance, the Ventrexian fleet won't have a chance to join us, but I've extended an invitation to the general to accompany me on maneuvers. As an unofficial observer, of course."

"Of course." Nikos smirked as he added milk to his coffee before they resumed walking. "I'm certain the general will enjoy that immensely. He always loved field exercises when we were in the academy, though he didn't have to sleep on the ground like we did." Bracing himself, Nikos added, "And while I know she is more than capable of defending herself, thank you, Sir John, for extending your protection to Lady Cato, and allowing her to stay here in your manor. I would have hesitated to leave otherwise, and right now we cannot afford hesitation."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you. Not unexpectedly, she and Lady Sheryl have found a great deal in common."

They had reached the rear entrance of the house where a transport waited. Setting the coffee down, Nikos stood straight and smartly saluted Sir John in the Ventrexian fashion. "Sir."

"Godspeed, Commander."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Meet me in Hangar 18 in thirty, in your speed jeans with travel kits. Got it?"

Loud groans and half-asleep wails and looks of pain answered Gary in the three-way chat he'd opened with his three volunteers. Derek looked particularly awful, unable to open his eyes more than a squint and sporting some world-class bedhead. Bluestein stared blankly at the comm unit. Curabb, Gary was fairly sure, was drooling.

"Today, DragonHawks," said Gary sternly - or as sternly as he could manage.

"Izzit today?" mumbled Derek, rubbing his face with his hand and yawing as he spoke. "Wuziz dark."

Bluestein faceplanted, leaving just the back of his head visible on screen, a small, blue lump. Curabb just stared into middle space. Gary suppressed a sigh. Such alertness. True steely-eyed rocket men and all that. Thank god Nikos wasn't here to see these spoiled, crack pilots yanked out of a sound sleep. He'd never let them on the ship. Or let Gary forget what a pack of geniuses he lead.

"Yup. Twenty-nine minutes now. Get a move on, gentlemen."

A series of noises and fumbling gestures, some obscene, followed as they all logged off the comm. Gary sat back in his seat as a SAMES drove him through dark and empty streets to the Infinity Guard base. It wasn't quite three in the morning. Nikos, he knew, was already aboard the Silverwing and probably chomping at the bit to get going. Half an hour was plenty of time for his team to get dressed and ready, seeing as how the hangar was a five-minute walk from their barracks. If they really hustled, they could squeeze in a quick shower, too, as Gary had. The small pilots' lounge at the hangar was manned round the clock and always had coffee brewing, so they'd be able to tank up.

Fifteen minutes later, Gary was being dropped off at Hangar 18 by one of the guards from the gate. He alerted the crew chief that he and his wing man had orders and would be leaving as soon as the lock down was lifted. Gary smiled to see the Kyrid's skin turn pink with relief at the lock down ending, and without a click of complaint or a single question, it set to work prepping the two Hawks for departure. In the locker room, Gary quickly donned his flight suit, setting his helmet atop his small bag of gear. He paused, remembering an exercise Professor Van Newton had taught him.

"Stop. Keep still. Breathe. Just be for a moment, Gary. Take in this feeling. You might never feel this way again, so even if it's frightening, appreciate it."

Closing his eyes, Gary took a slow, deep breath and held it for a few seconds. A nervous energy had laid hold of him, the kind of charge that would keep him sharp and alert. All the patience and planning was over with. Finally, they were moving. He let his breath out. Calmness settled upon him. Unable to suppress a little smirk, he slammed the locker closed with a very satisfying bang. Time to get going.

They were going after Avocato, and Gary wasn't returning without him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Report, Lieutenant Commander."

"We're ready. We've been ready. You know perfectly well we've been ready. And somehow, we've resisted the temptation of annoying other departments. Nikos." Chief Engineer Pawlette shook her head, both hands gripping a wrench to keep from shaking it at him threateningly. It was fortunate she was on the far side of the ship. "Now, are you going to tell us what's going on?"

"Soon," he promised. "I'll want full power on my signal."

A growl escaped her. "So give it already!"

"Start spooling the lightfold, Chief." Nikos smiled, turning to the comms officer. "Raise channel 9223.45."

Relieved to finally be doing something, even if it was just his job, the lieutenant obeyed. He was astonished when their acting captain immediately said, "General Cataloupe, this is Commander Nikos."

"Is she ready, commander?" came Cataloupe's crisp voice.

"Yes, sir!"

There was a brief pause, and then, "You are cleared for departure. Proceed with your orders for a shakedown."

"Received. We'll report back in, General. Silverwing out. Helm, full power! Take us out of orbit and engage drop drive as soon as we're clear of Tera Con Prime."

Nikos dropped into the command chair - Avocato's chair - as the lightfold engines hummed to life. It was a familiar, welcome sensation, as much a part of him as his pulse. A moment later, before the spacedock or the control tower could protest or process that the lock down was lifted, the Silverwing sped away from the empire's capitol at more than twice the speed of light, the starfield in her viewscreen turning to streaks of light. They were heading towards Ventrexian space, though they were not going home. Not yet, and not without their captain.

Chapter Text

By the time the two Hawk Interceptors rendezvoused with the Silverwing, Gary had talked himself hoarse as he answered about a thousand questions from his crew. He told them everything of the situation and about all the people involved. It was the small details, he felt, that really won them over, especially when they found out Lady Sheryl supported the relationship even without ever having met Avocato. All the DragonHawks loved, admired, and feared Gary's mother in equal measure, and her stamp of approval meant even more than their wing commander's.

The Silverwing had stopped at the edge of the asteroid field in the Psi Psi Tu system, ostensibly to test the new guns but in reality just waiting for their volunteer crew members to catch up. The rail guns were deployed and Gary could see several figures in spacesuits beside one of them, so testing must have happened already. As he keyed his mic, Gary took a moment to admire the grace and elegance of the starcruiser. She was typical of Ventrexian design, with sleek lines that spoke of speed and small, quick strikes. Though not very large and on the old side, the Silverwing was flawlessly maintained, her every surface mirror bright to reflect her surroundings in simple visual camouflage. Gary had asked about the name the night he'd come aboard. Avocato had told him silverwings were a type of bird of prey considered sacred to the goddess Ventrexia, and it was a tradition of the Ventrexian fleet since even before they'd gone into space to always have a ship of this name in service. This Silverwing was the 134th ship of that name in an unbroken line dating back almost two millennia, with another ten years of service before her before she'd be decommissioned and a new Silverwing launched. Gary could see the resemblance to a bird, and could understand the warmth and pride he'd heard in Avocato's voice as he spoke of his starship.

"This is DragonHawk Wing Commander Captain Gary Goodspeed hailing the Silverwing. Permission to approach and park two Hawk Interceptors in close vicinity."

"Permission granted, Captain Goodspeed," came Nikos' voice over the comms. "Lt. Commander Pawlette is presently outside the ship and will direct you."

One spacewalk later, Gary and his team were standing in the docking bay of the Silverwing, scrambling to get out of the way as the Ventrexian crew prepared to stow the two fighters inside. Everyone was bustling and pointedly ignoring the Infinity Guard pilots in their midst. Looking doubtfully around at the cramped space, Gary quickly decided he did not want to know how Nikos intended to pull off this maneuver because he didn't want to cry in front of the enlisted men. He was rather relieved when Nikos himself showed up, suited up for space but with his pointy-eared helmet in one hand and a large carrying case in the other.

"Permission to come aboard, Commander," said Gary, saluting the acting captain. The DragonHawks followed suit.

"Granted," Nikos said automatically. He glanced at Gary's team, asking, "Have you filled them in fully? They understand the situation?"

"Yes. They're onboard," he assured as his friends nodded.

"Good." He gestured for one of the crewmen to take their gear. "You'll be shown your quarters later. We'll collect your medical data then, too. In the meantime, I have a job for you."

"We're here for it," Gary said gamely, having no idea what Nikos might need for them to do but hoping it didn't involve jamming a pair of fighters into a shoe box.

With a jerk of his head, Nikos lead them to a corner of the bay that served as a storage and work area. He set the case on the table, and they all spotted the Infinity Guard logo on the lid before he quickly opened it, revealing a teardrop-shaped unit about twice the size of Gary's helmet.

"What is that?" wondered Derek.

"This is an echo drone," explained Nikos. "Sir John gave it to me before I left the Goodspeed estate this morning. It's designed to mimic a ship's electronic signature and follow a set course to throw anyone off your tail."

"Sneaky," Gary complimented, then asked seriously, "You think we're being tracked?"

Nikos let out a tiny snort at a question so naive. "This ship has been at the Tera Con shipyard for the better part of three weeks, Captain, getting upgrades and resupplying. Your father assured me there will be at least six trackers onboard at this point. If General Viro didn't have them installed, he believes your Admiral Stone did." Reaching into the case, Nikos withdrew two units that looked like hand-held games complete with buttons and screens. He held them out to the pilots, and Derek took one and Bluestein the other. "These are scanners calibrated to find said trackers. While we get your fighters stowed, I need you to do a full sweep of the ship, inside and out, focusing on the upgraded rail gun and turret gun housings, ammunition stores, and supplies. Once your Interceptors are safely onboard, you can check them and the docking bay. Remove any trackers you find, but don't destroy or deactivate them. If they're in someplace restricted or inaccessible, mark the spot and one of the officers will assist."

"You're going to put them all on the drone," reasoned Gary.

"Exactly," said Nikos with a wicked little smile. "We'll move the ship into the asteroid field when the drone departs, then we get through the field and head for Bru."

"Alrighty, then," Gary said briskly, herding his team along with shooing motions. "A'scanning we will go, yo."

It didn't take as long as Gary anticipated. For one thing, the scanners were pretty powerful, a little too powerful, and it took a bit of teamwork to narrow down locations. The next thing that worked to their advantage was that the Silverwing was a bit more than half the size of an Imperium Battlecruiser, and there was nothing fancy or surprising about its layout. Finally, most areas of the ship had been off limits while docked, limiting where the trackers could have been stowed by visiting repair crews. Nikos had actually called it when he told them to check the new gun housings and ammunition - they located a total of ten trackers, and Nikos let them borrow an engineer to pry the button-size devices from inside control panels and off caissons and other spots not easily reached. To Gary's unending disgust, two additional trackers were found on his Hawk Interceptor, DragonHawk V. There were none on Bluesteins' ship. Those Nikos allowed them to destroy, and Gary very happily ground one device to sparkly dust beneath his heel while Derek got the honors of killing the other.

The two fighters were wedged into the Silverwing's docking bay so tightly you couldn't slip a piece of paper between them. The upper stabilizers of both ships had been removed and were secured against a wall. DragonHawk IX had been stored inverted, allowing the angular wings to line up. It was unconventional but not unheard of to transport Hawks this way, and there was nothing in the ship gravity could affect. Still, seeing his wing man's ship upside down when not in use was a trifle unnerving.

"These are all of them?" asked Nikos, looking at the handful of trackers.

"Yes," said Gary. "We went over the ship twice."

Satisfied, Nikos retrieved the echo drone. Pawlette produced some sort of epoxy from hell to secure the trackers to the shell of the drone.

"We should let it cure for an hour," she announced in a tone of voice that told them it wasn't just a suggestion.

"Is the drone programmed for our signature?" asked Nikos, wisely not touching on the possibility of launching the drone immediately.

"Of course," was her impatient reply. "I did that first thing this morning. I programmed it for a course to Ventrexian space, and it's good for two brief light speed jumps, just like we've been doing for the shakedown. It should be out of range of Tera Con Prime's long-range satellites in two days. The batteries will die long before it reaches Ventrexia."

"Good," said Nikos. He gestured for one of the ship's crew still in the docking bay. "Escort these men to medical and then show them their quarters. Captain Goodspeed, with me."

Obediently, Gary fell in with Nikos. He was surprised when Pawlette joined them over by the work station. She was still carrying the epoxy and Gary suspected she was quite ready to use it if they got out of line. Visions of her gluing his hand to Nikos' fluttered through his brain and Gary resolved not to touch anything in her vicinity until he was clean on the other side of the ship and safely out of range. He did not need to figure out how to eat dinner with a wrench or Nikos permanently adhered to his hand.

"Under normal circumstances, Captain, Lt. Commander Pawlette is third in command of this ship as well as being her chief engineer and mecha-"

"Cut to the chase, Nikos. I need to get this place cleaned up," ordered Pawlette impatiently.

He threw her a smouldering look, but kept his attention on Gary. "She has argued - effectively - to maintain that status for the duration of this miss-"

"You looking for volunteers?"

That smouldering look times twenty. He'd have to check for a sunburn later. Gary realized his impulsiveness had soured the mood.

"Sorry, but all the dramatic build-up got me too excited and I jumped to the finish line," he said just a touch too flippantly. "Bad habit. Go on."

Nikos crossed his arms, supremely pissed at all the interruptions and not afraid to show it. "I was going to offer you the position, but now - no. As captain of this ship, I'm ordering you to assume the role of first officer."

Gary pursed his lips and finally admitted, "I deserved that."

"I'm glad you agree."

"Why me?"

"You're the highest rank aboard the ship and along with leadership and combat experience, you have intimate knowledge of the entirety of the situation we're facing. I'll need your input and I expect your full support."

"You got it. What's our next move?"

"We wait the rest of the hour, launch the drone, and then we get our tails to Bru. Hopefully by then, your Professor Van Newton will have more information for us."

"Yes. So . . . as your duly appointed, brandy-new acting first officer, what do I do?" He really had no clue.

Nikos frowned. "Whatever I tell you to do."

"Right. Uh . . . what don't I do?"

"Interrupt or argue."

Zing. He deserved that, too. "'Kay - I mean, understo- - I mean, yes, sir."

Nikos sighed, clearly forcing himself to be patient. Gary bit his lip. Oh, no way this wasn't going to go off without a hitch. Still . . . if being first officer got him an inch closer to getting Avocato back, he would give it his all.

Chapter Text

"Wake up! Wake up, I say! I didn't come all the way down in this cesspit here to watch you sleep."

A sharp jab to his shoulder roused Avocato, and he jerked awake with a little hiss of annoyance. Turning, he looked up to see a middle-aged Foog standing outside his cell waiting impatiently.

"Well? Get up! I want to have a look at you."

Avocato answered with a few choice words inviting the Foog to perform something anatomically impossible for most biped species before dropping his head back onto the blanket serving as his pillow. His mother would have been appalled that he knew such language, let alone used it, but he was a soldier first and foremost, and having a vocabulary that could shock was something of a requirement for field work.

Another poke. "Up! You've no reason to sleep right now!"

Just stress, wounds, fever, and infection. Of course, this animated slime wouldn't care about the discomfort of anyone other than himself.

"Touch me again and I'll break your hand off," promised Avocato.

"I'd like to see you try," invited the Foog, brandishing the stylus he'd used to prod Avocato in what he probably thought was a flirtatious and winning manner.

Avocato smirked, leveling a lethal glare at the short annoyance. Slowly he pushed himself up so his back was to the wall. "I'd like to see you try, Clarence."

The fact that Avocato knew who he was clearly took Clarence aback for a moment before he adjusted his goggles. Smoothing his fine clothing, he said, "Hmph. Avocato, is it? I shouldn't be surprised you know who I am. I'm probably one of the best-known, best-connected people on the planet," he said haughtily. "Everyone knows my name."

"Considering we're on Yarno, that's nothing to brag about. What makes you think I give a damn?"

"Because I'm your only hope of getting out of here alive."

Avocato didn't even try to silence the snort of disbelief that escaped him. He closed his eyes, trying not to feel his stinging back or his throbbing leg. "Don't flatter yourself. You might believe that, Clarence, but I don't."

"You know, it's been a while since I interacted with a Ventrexian. I forgot how overbearingly arrogant your kind can be."

"Don't forget smugly superior and dashing, too." He slowly opened his eyes only to find the creepy little Foog peering at him intently through the bars of the cell. "What do you want?"

"I've a business proposition. I'd have come sooner, but I had to make sure the Holy Helper was well away and preparing for . . . events. I've seen you fight. You're a natural. I know the Ventrexian penchant for battle. I could make you a champion pit fighter. You'd be rolling in money."

As if he didn't have enough already. "Until the day you find a new champion, at which point you'd sell me to the highest bidder or bet on me to lose and rig the match. No, thanks."

"You won't survive another go at the Deathcropolis."

"You don't know that. I haven't tried."

"Oh, but I do," Clarence said slyly, drawing closer as he lowered his voice. "It's all arranged. The Order will be arriving here in force in the next day or so, and it won't be a public Deathcropolis. You're to be pitted against just one opponent, and I promise, you can't win against him."

That sparked Avocato's interest. He shifted to face Clarence. "So Viro's finally going to face me himself? About time."

The question rather took the wind out of Clarence's sails for a moment as his big reveal was spoiled. Leaning in, he wrapped a little gray hand around the horizontal bars penning Avocato, never giving a thought of who he was approaching.

"You're injured, he's not. He's armored, you're not. You've got nothing but good looks and anger. Granted, you have both in abundance, but Viro has a domin blaster. Do you really want to risk those odds? I can get you off planet before anyone knows you're gone."

"So I can spend the rest of my life fighting for you and running from Viro and the Order of the Twelve? Not the future I have planned."

If Clarence really wanted to make a fortune off of him, he'd contact Ventrexia and let them know he was here on Yarno. The fact that a reward for his safe return wasn't Clarence's first thought told Avocato that he had something a lot more lecherous and obscene in mind than securing a potential pit fighter.

The Foog carried on as if Avocato had already agreed to his plan, as if the simple elegance of it would sway him. "All you have to do is persuade your little friend . . . Trexie, wasn't it? To unlock your cell tonight. He can even come along. He can be trained up as your protégé, plus my daughter has always wanted a pet -Agh!"

Clarence let out a scream of pain and surprise as Avocato surged forward and seized his hand, yanking him violently up against the bars. His face smacked hard against the metal barrier. Ignoring the pain he caused his back, Avocato reached his other hand out, sinking his claws into the back of Clarence's bumpy head and pressing him closer still, bearing his teeth and forcing Clarence to listen.

"You so much as look at that child, you think about him, you mention his name ever again, you slimy bastard, I. Will. Kill. You."

"My head!" wailed Clarence, gray blood streaming from the puncture wounds. He briefly tried to struggle, prompting Avocato to dig in deeper. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"What did I just tell you?"

"I – I'm not to look at the boy. Or use his name. Let me go!"

Avocato pulled the arm in his grasp harder, pinning it against his hip. "Or?"

"You'll kill me," breathed Clarence, real panic in his voice.

"Not just kill you," hissed Avocato softly. "I'll hurt you."

"Mmmmm."

"You're perverted and a blight on this galaxy and if you think for one moment I'd actually allow you to lay a hand on me, think again. I'm not your fighter and I'm not your whore!" He slammed Clarence's face into the bars again, twisting his other hand at the same moment and snapping the Foog's arm and wrist. A desperate wail rang out, a feeble "ahhh-ah!" as Clarence learned what pain meant. Releasing the broken limb, Avocato reached his hand through the bars, raking his claws down Clarence's face as he snatched away the goggles protecting his sensitive eyes. Avocato tossed them over his shoulder to the back of the cell.

"My eyes!" cried Clarence, squeezing them shut. Blood ran down his face and head, hot and sticky on Avocato's hands. "My arm! My head! Let me go! Let me go, please!"

Avocato grabbed his face instead, digging his fingers into those flabby cheeks and grinding the Foog against the rough metal bars. "Shut up, Clarence. How many people have you watched die in the Deathcropolis? It's never enough for people like you. Wealth doesn't make you blameless. You've caused a world of misery. What, you can't take it? You seem like the sort of degenerate who enjoys a little pain."

"This is a lot!" complained Clarence, struggling to move his jaw. Tears squeezed from his eyes. He tried to pull free but gave up quickly when Avocato's grip tightened like a vise.

Avocato barked a laugh at what passed for distress for this scum. "This is nothing, you coward. You tried to buy and enslave me. You would have sold me a thousand times over to anyone who wanted me. You want to turn a child into a killer. You do nothing that doesn't benefit you. And you have the nerve to call me arrogant? Who walked up to a predator and taunted it like your money and connections could actually protect you?"

In the hazy light, he studied Clarence closely, falling silent as he let the disgusting little Foog experience a bit of suffering, concluding it would do him a lot of good. He waited, knowing anticipation and pain would drive Clarence to speak sooner rather than later.

"Are you going to kill me?" whimpered Clarence, opening his eyes a crack.

"Can you give me a reason why I shouldn't?"

"I – I'm a father! I have children!"

Avocato found himself smiling. Clarence was close enough for his poor eyesight to see the expression, a sight which filled the Foog with terror. "Considering you want to make a Ventrexian into a pet for your daughter, I think they might be better off without you."

A long, low, groaning whine rose up in Clarence's throat at the notion of dying here and now.

"Still want me as a pit fighter, Clarence?"

Too afraid to speak, Clarence shook his head in that universal sign of negation.

"So, you can learn. Good." He released Clarence's face with a hard jerk to the side and without hesitation, landed an open-fingered strike to his stomach, punching his claws through layers of expensive fabric and planting them into Clarence's stomach muscles. "The next lesson for you is people are not property."

"Ooof! Oh! Oh!" gasped Clarence, gaping at Avocato in shock as he tried to draw a breath. Let him learn what it felt like.

"Final lesson: money doesn't make you better. In your case, it makes you worse. Do you agree?"

Too stunned and terrified to move, Clarence nodded the tiniest bit. He winced when Avocato closed his hands slightly. Gray blood dripped on the floor as he tried to nod harder.

"I'd rip your throat out right now, but Trexie would end up having to clean up the mess and get rid of your carcass. So you're going to crawl away like the worm you are and pray you can get far enough away from me that I can't find you. If I ever see you again, you're dead."

He shoved and yanked simultaneously, releasing Clarence. The Foog collapsed in a heap, weeping and groaning until Avocato ordered him to leave. Without the goggles Clarence was as good as blind, and he crawled away, groping along the floor, pausing now and then to check his wounds as if they were going to change over a minute or two. Every movement produced a pathetic mewl that grew tiresome after three seconds. It took a long time for Clarence to go away and leave Avocato in peace, a smeared trail of blood behind him. Avocato hoped he got lost in the maze of halls and cells and starved to death or got eaten by something unclean. He watched until the shadows swallowed Clarence, the whines of pain echoing long after he was out of sight.

Avocato sighed, resting his head against the bars. The encounter left him drained and filthy. Gray blood coated his hands and cuffs. Disgusting. He would have to ask Trexi for extra water to wash away all traces of Clarence. In the dull light, a gleam caught his eye. Looking down, Avocato spotted something long and shiny on the floor at his feet: the metal stylus Clarence had used to prod him awake. Leaning over, he picked it up. It was heavy and solidly made, tapering to a fine, rounded point. Not as useful as a knife, but still a good weight in his hands. He could think of a thousand ways to use it as a weapon. Avocato twirled it through his fingers, easily manipulating it. Without hesitation, he slid the stylus into his boot.

Then he slowly lowered himself back to the bunk, feeling every twinge and ache. He didn't expect to sleep, but fatigue and fever reclaimed him. Within minutes, Avocato was asleep.

Chapter Text

General Viro's heavy cape slapped at his heels as he strode down the hall of his headquarters. Robots and officers scurried out of his way, sensing something had their leader on edge. More on edge than normal. Viro was rarely in what could be described as a good mood. Perhaps a non-murderous mood was more accurate. Given that the general had command of exactly one facial expression, waking or sleeping (if he slept; his staff had no idea, but the odds were fairly neck-and-neck in the betting pool), gauging his mood was challenging to say the least. Even personality experts were stumped because as far as they could tell, Viro didn't have any personality. Just anger. Lots and lots of anger offset by an unhealthy dose of ambition.

Most of the time the people who served him had to depend on whatever vague aura he emitted at a given time and how heavily his footsteps fell to gauge his mood. And today, they sensed, was a bad day for General Viro. Word spread quickly through the military headquarters and people were extremely focused on whatever task they had been set to, avoiding eye contact and conversation as the cybernetic nightmare stalked by.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Talk to me, men. Richard said Shannon T. called. What have you got?"

Thud's chair squeaked in protest as he turned to face Tribore. With one word, he earned the whole team a bonus.

"Yarno."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Only one young officer dared accost Viro, and he only did so because it was his job and everyone smarter had already made themselves scarce. Standing by the door to Viro's office, the secretary clutched a padd in both sweaty hands and stammered,

"Sir, I have . . . updates."

He pronounced the word much the same way he would have read his own death sentence aloud, which was distinctly possible in this case since General Viro was not renowned for his patience or tact or ability to accept setbacks with any grace.

Today, however, that impatience worked in the secretary's favor, because Viro snatched the padd out of his hands and without a word, kept walking into his office. The door slammed and the secretary breathed a long sigh of relief, collapsing behind his desk.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Johnny? Remember that multiple choice question the professor was working on a few days ago? You want to pick option four."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The newly repaired door slid shut soundlessly. Even that annoyed Viro. He wanted for the door to slam. To boom. To announce to his entire headquarters that he was here, and he was not happy.

He had just come from a highly disturbing meeting with the Lord Commander, the Captain of the Guard, and General Cataloupe. The human and Ventrexian had made visible efforts to be civil and professional, tapping into their officer training to maintain a tense and frigid peace before their emperor. Their efforts had been amusing, at least to the Lord Commander, but Viro did not like that Sir John, finally snapping, had sarcastically suggested that if General Cataloupe wanted to be so critical of Infinity Guard tactics, he should accompany Sir John on his flagship when he took his fleet out for some training maneuvers later in the week. To the surprise of everyone, Cataloupe accepted, clearly embracing the invitation to rip the Infinity Guard apart from the inside out. For some reason he could not name, Cataloupe and Sir John together made Viro nervous. He knew the Lord Commander was looking forward to a showdown between them, and so made no effort to stop either man. The only comfort, slim as it was, was that Cataloupe was furious Avocato had not yet been located, and was clearly not going to let Sir John forget that fact for a moment, to the point where Cataloupe would let it interfere with his professional performance.

Viro dropped into the reinforced chair behind his heavy-duty desk, the surface of which was dented and cracked from the many times he'd slammed his fist down. It was almost time to replace it, something that happened about twice a year. He keyed the padd in his hand and started reading.

Shock and fury vied for supremacy as he read the report. Avocato's ship, the Silverwing, was gone from the spacedocks. Viro had not known Sir John intended to lift the lock down imposed on the whole of Tera Con Prime, but at some ungodly hour this morning, the ban had been lifted and apparently the Silverwing had taken advantage of the shifting situation and escaped. Almost scrambling to read the information faster, Viro learned only now that Commander Nikos, whom Viro knew he had seen in Avocato's company but never bothered to speak to, was in temporary command of the starcruiser. The trackers installed on the ship by Viro's agents - standard procedure for all ships in the spacedock since Viro trusted the Ventrexians even less than the Infinity Guard - showed the Silverwing had moved on courses and at speeds typical of a shakedown cruise and was now heading towards Ventrexian space. Without her captain. Would they do that? Perhaps this Nikos was ambitious enough to abandon Avocato to his fate if it meant he got command of the ship. Viro certainly would have, but would Nikos?

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Captain Nikos, how is the shakedown proceeding?"

"All systems are a go, General. Our new crewmen are . . . acclimating."

"Good to hear. I'm revising your schedule slightly. I would like to see how the Silverwing does on a long-distance run. Arith sector seems as good a destination as any. Why don't you visit Yarno in the Bru system and let me know how she does."

"Right away, sir."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

He could do nothing without giving the game away. Too much prying into Cataloupe's sphere might tip the general off that Viro had more involvement in the disappearance of Avocato than he ever wanted to admit aloud.

And then Viro reached the last few lines of the report.

The Goodspeed boy was gone? His ship, his wing man, their gunners - gone? WHERE? WHEN?

The tracker on Goodspeed's ship put his last location at the Psi Psi Tu system, right where the Silverwing had gone to test her new guns. After that, nothing. It was too much to hope the Ventrexians had shot that idiotic chatterbox clean out of existence. If that were the case, the two warring houses could get back to destroying one another and Viro would know a little peace.

Had Goodspeed joined the Ventrexians? Could there be some sort of alliance between them? That didn't explain losing all trace of the boy because he would have no reason to go to Ventrexia.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Wait - what? No hot showers? Just sonic showers on this ship? Are you kidding me, Nikos? I have to trust these perfect golden strands to sound waves? What is wrong with you people?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

This was not good. There were too many questions and loose ends for his liking, too many things that could go wrong. Viro needed to end this charade as soon as possible. And bringing things to a conclusion started with finishing Avocato permanently. There would be no slipping through the cracks again, no miracles of survival, no perfect sacrifices. Just a dead Ventrexian officer and renewed hostilities between the only rivals Viro faced.

Correction. He had another rival, but of a completely different caste, and she chose that moment to call.

"We sensed your unrest and need, General, and felt we might be of assistance," crooned the projected image of High Helper Hula.

"Save me your platitudes, witch," barked Viro.

Hula answered with that revolting, vapid rictus that was her notion of a smile, unfazed by his anger. "We thought you would be overjoyed to learn the fruit is ripe for plucking."

How he hated her. "Stop wasting my time and talk sense!"

A tinkling laugh answered and Hula waved a bony hand, sending the orbiting eyes swirling gracefully. "Holy Helper Knievel reports Captain Avocato is not recovering from his wounds. If he is to be properly sacrificed to the Titans, it must happen soon."

She was too smug, too certain everything would go her way. Viro gave in to the temptation to knock her off her pedestal. "Are you aware Avocato's ship left the space dock this morning? And that the Goodspeed boy and his wing man departed in their Hawks at the same time?"

Hula hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly and went on smiling that poisonous smile. Clearly this was news to her. "That changes little. Even if they find this place, your ships are faster."

"Meaning?"

She opened her hands in a gesture of supplication. "We thought we were clear, General Viro. We're simply offering you the chance to do what you've wanted from the start and end Captain Avocato in the next Deathcropolis."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Wha - what the heck?"

It was late afternoon at Avocato's best estimate. These short Yarno days were wreaking havoc on his sleep schedule, and he had not been awake for long. In the fading light Avocato could see Trexie, a pitcher of water in hand, gaping at the gray blood all over the floor. He looked up at Avocato, his pale eyes filled with confusion.

"What happened?" asked Trexie. He was too used to blood and gore and death to be horrified. It was more a case of surprise at finding blood here.

Avocato glanced at the tacky smears and pools staining the area in front of his cell and shrugged casually, hanging his hands through the horizontal bars and dangling Clarence's ornate goggles off one finger. "It was like that when I woke up."

Trexie jerked his chin at the goggles. "Where did you get those?"

"These?" He looked at the goggles as if he'd just noticed them. They were heavy with gold trim and taedanite crystal lenses - rather over the top and clearly the property of someone who had more money than taste and overpaid just to brag. "I found them in the back of my cell. Want them? They're yours."

Gingerly, Trexie reached for the goggles, frowning as he recognized them. He was silent as he did some quick math. "These are Clarence's."

"Clarence? Really? Guess he didn't want them."

"He left. Ash said he was sick, so . . . I guess not. Can I really take them?"

"They're all yours. Do whatever you want with them. The gold is real, so I'm sure they're worth something to someone with bad taste. Meantime, could I bother you for some extra water to wash up a bit?"

As he slipped the goggles from Avocato's finger, Trexie spotted the dried gray blood on Avocato's hands and cuffs.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Um . . . here." He filled Avocato's cup almost to the brim and slid it inside the cell, saying, "I'll bring extra when I come to clean this up." Then Trexie looked a final time at the goggles. "You're sure?"

"Goggles aren't my thing."

A tiny giggle answered, and then Trexie stashed the goggles deep in the pocket of his tunic and hurried away.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Not fifteen minutes after stomping into his office, Viro stomped out.

"Ready my ship! I'm departing immediately!"

His men scrambled to obey. Anything to be rid of him.

Chapter Text

"Avocato?"

He started awake at the soft voice right beside his pallet. It was testimony to how sick Avocato felt that he hadn't sensed Trexie so near to him. His head was pounding and his throat was dry and sore, and his leg had started to hurt worse than his back. Sleep was no longer the refuge it had been from the discomforts of his injuries and infection, and so he didn't mind being woken up.

"Sorry," whispered the boy, swiftly punching in the code to open the door to let himself into the cell.

Avocato roused, slowly moving as he shook off sleep. "Are you alright?" he wondered, squinting at Trexie.

"Yeah. I know it's late, but I had to hurry out and back so Terk wouldn't notice I left the arena. That's why I didn't bring more water sooner." As he spoke, Trexie set several items down – a plastic jug of water, a small glow-globe cranked down to its lowest setting, a plastic-wrapped bundle, and something wrapped in a paper sleeve. Avocato caught a whiff of spicy roasted meat.

"I sold those goggles," Trexie said, clearly pleased with himself. He retrieved Avocato's cup and poured him some water, watching a moment to make sure he drank some. "The first guy tried to tell me the gold wasn't real, but you said it was, so I tried another trader. He gave me a better price, then upped it when I said I'd just take them to the guy next to him, who was listening in while we dealed. He really wanted them."

"Nicely done," said Avocato, proud of such a bold move.

He gave a little shrug, beaming under the praise even as he tried to be non-nonchalant about it. "Even so, I couldn't get much with the dropnoids he gave me. Everything is imported here on Yarno except sand and biting insects, so everything is crazy expensive. I got more bandages and pills for your fever, and a little bit of medgel. There's not much, but it's fresher than the stuff I used before and might help your leg."

"You should have gotten something for yourself," Avocato protested gently, supremely touched by the generosity of this child who owned nothing, not even himself.

He could hear the smile in Trexie's voice. "I knew you'd say that, so I did. Well, for us both. I passed a food vendor who sometimes works selling stuff at the Deathcropolises. His food always smells so good, and last year I helped him by guarding some supplies he needed for the fights while he was setting up. He paid me with a few pieces of spiced meat. I never had anything so good, so I got some tonight. He remembered me, but there aren't many Ventrexians here." Without realizing it, he wiggled slightly at being able to give a name to his own species, happy and smug in his knowledge. "He gave me a bigger kabob than what I paid for. I thought we could share it after I look at your leg and back."

For a long moment, Avocato let himself be awed at this kindness, and his throat grew too tight to swallow. "Thank you, little one," he finally managed to say, his voice hoarse. "That means . . . more than you can know."

He wasn't exaggerating. Food was sacred and heavy with symbolism on Ventrexia. Though there was no way for Trexie to know it, sharing food, especially sharing with a child, created a bond, an obligation of responsibility. Children were not expected to offer food to adults, but when they did, it doubled the bond and meant the child accepted the elder's protection. It meant that they were family.

Avocato was silent as he watched Trexie, wondering what to say. How much to tell him. How to protect him. He knew Viro would come here with the intent of destroying Avocato in the most brutal way the cyborg could devise in the next Deathcropolis. In a fair fight, if Avocato was healthy and they were given similar armaments, he'd have a respectable chance of winning. Now, in his condition, unless the Order of the Twelve leveled the mother of all handicaps on Viro, there was no way. Besides, as far as he could tell, Viro had zero concept of fair play or adhering to the rules.

The general couldn't win otherwise.

He schooled his features to be blank when Trexie grimaced at Avocato's swollen, inflamed shin. If nothing else, the medgal relieved some of the pain even if it wasn't strong enough to combat the infection. His back was scabbing over, at least, though the wounds were sore and fragile and bled easily. His little conflict with Clarence had strained his back badly enough to make it bleed, and only now was it being treated.

He sighed with relief when the wounds were cleaned and freshly bandaged. At Trexie's insistence, Avocato took several of the pills before they both washed their hands. Avocato was glad to remove the last traces of Clarence from his fur. Nothing about that perverted Foog had been clean.

Then Trexie triumphantly unwrapped a long kebab with chunks of some sort of meat skewered upon it. Thanks to the fever, Avocato really wasn't hungry or up to eating, but he didn't let that show as he pulled the first tender piece of meat off the end. It was still warm, a juicy few bites that tasted of unfamiliar spices and tangy salt, and surprisingly delicious. Sitting on the pallet close enough to be touching, they ate slowly, savoring the treat and sharing the one cup between them.

"Is it as good as the last time you had it?" wondered Avocato when the wooden skewer was almost empty.

Trexie smiled. "Better," he said.

"Oh?"

"I'm not alone this time."

Avocato felt his heart melt. He would do anything to spare this child the pain that was coming. While he might not be able to save Trexie from the anguish of losing him, there was something Avocato could do for the future.

"You finish it," he said when Trexie offered him the kebab. There were just two pieces of meat left, and Avocato's stomach had gone into the meal already unhappy. So much spice after bland food and a fever was not sitting well.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so long as you finish the water."

It was the least he could do, and Avocato picked up the cup to salute his host before taking a sip.

They finished together. Trexie was rightly pleased with himself and he started to move to clean up the debris when Avocato stopped him.

"Wait a moment, Little One," Avocato said softly. "I need to tell you something. It's very important and I need you to remember this. A lot depends on it."

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Trexie sat down again, all of his focus on Avocato. His curiosity and concern were evident as he waited more or less patiently. In the wan light of the glowglobe, Avocato fixed Trexie with a steady look as he tried to inform and reassure at the same time.

"My friends are looking for me, I know. As soon as they figure out where I am, they'll be here. It might be Ventrexians who come, it might be Infinity Guard, or both. Either way, I'm confident they'll eventually find this place." He paused, collecting himself before plunging onward. "I also know that Viro is coming to face me alone in the next Deathcropolis."

"Whut?" breathed Trexie, horrified. His mouth fell open and his eyes were wide with almost-panic. His small hand reached for Avocato, then hesitated, unsure if he should touch his hero or not. Avocato took Trexie's hand in both of his, keeping his voice low and even.

"Listen. Viro's coming soon, which tells me my friends are probably close and he's frightened they'll find me. If that happens, he and the Order of the Twelve will be exposed for kidnapping me and murdering an Infinity Guard officer, so he's going to try to kill me the moment he gets here. Right now, I can't win against him. I'm too hurt and sick, which is the only way he could beat me anyway," he added wryly, refusing to give Viro even a theoretical victory over him. "No matter what happens to me, you must keep out of sight of Viro and the Order. All of them. Understood?"

"Yes," said Trexie in a very small voice.

"You know what a Ventrexian uniform looks like. Have you seen Infinity Guard uniforms? One piece suit with a white triangular panel across the chest?" He gestured with both hands. "Planet with two rings on the front?"

"Those are uniforms?" wondered Trexie with a frown. "Sure they're not pajamas?"

Avocato could not hold in a laugh. "The dress uniforms are better, at least."

"If you say so," was the unconvinced reply. "I've seen pictures. Never saw one here on Yarno."

"Outside of a Deathcropolis, whenever you see a Ventrexian in uniform, tell them you know me, you know what happened to me, and that you and I have eaten off the same plate."

"Huh?"

"Say it back. It's very important."

"Uh, I know you, I know what happened to you, and we ate off the same plate? What does that mean?"

"It means Ventrexians will protect you in my name, and they'll get you home to my parents on Ventrexia. It means my parents will take care of you. Say it again."

Stunned, Trexie repeated himself.

"Promise me you'll say that to yourself every night until it happens."

"I promise."

Satisfied, Avocato nodded. "Now, if you ever see someone from the Infinity Guard, tell them you have a message for Captain Goodspeed, and you'll speak to him only."

"Your boyfriend, you mean?"

"Well, Gary is a captain, but his father Sir John is Captain of the Infinity Guard, so whichever Captain Goodspeed you get, they'll want to know what happened."

"So tell them?"

"Only once they get you off of Yarno and in touch with the Ventrexian fleet. They are men of honor and will keep their word."

"What if they think I'm making it up?"

Avocato considered for a moment, then reached up and loosened the top button of his tunic. It took a bit of effort to remove the small pin securing it to his uniform, but after a little grunt he managed to pull a heavy, gold-toned button free. He placed it in Trexie's open hand.

"Show them this. They'll all recognize it."

Trexie held it close to the glowglobe to get a look at the button's embossed surface. "It's the same thing as on your belt and sleeve. What is it? It looks like . . . a head."

"When I was a cadet, we called it the holy helmet. It's a stylized drawing of Ventrexia. It's based on the earliest known art dedicated to the goddess, and it's the symbol of our military and our monarchy."

"How old is it, then?"

"Mmm . . . probably close to eighty thousand years."

"Whoa!"

"We are an ancient people."

"Huh. Do you believe in Ventrexia?"

"As a goddess, no, not really, but the idea of her, yes. I do believe in our people and the fighting spirit she gave us. And sometimes, especially when I'm frightened, it is nice to think that there's some being beyond time and space who loves me just for being what I am, and will guard me in this life and whatever is beyond."

"Like the Titans?"

He smiled. "No. Like a mother."

Pursing his lips, Trexie took a few long breaths, collecting his courage. Then he looked up. "Avocato, I don't want you to die."

"I know." He smoothed back the boy's spiky blue crest. "I don't either, but I'm not afraid. Granted, I'll be mad as hell if Viro does kill me and not someone who's actually possessed of some real skill, but it's enough for me to know you have a chance at safety. Promise me you'll take it."

"Promise me you'll try."

Leaning over, Avocato pressed his forehead to Trexie's. "Of course I will, Little One. I'll do everything I can to survive. Don't ever forget what I told you, and to keep well hidden."

Clutching the button tightly, trying to brave as brave as Avocato, Trexie squeezed his eyes shut, his voice a whisper as he said, "Promise."

Chapter Text

It was official. Ventrexians were weird.

If nothing else, this total immersion into Ventrexian culture for a few days was educational. Or maybe it was just Ventrexian military culture? Or a Nikos-as-exec/shipbound-dictator thing? Either way, Ventrexians were weird. Oh, they were professional enough and tolerant in their interactions, though they definitely looked askance at these flyboys in their midst.

They were all neat freaks, for starters. Not a bad thing, really, and typical of any military, but Ventrexians brought it to whole new levels. Gary looked, and he never saw a single stray fallen hair in the corridors or a stylus out of place. It did not occur to him for several days that with all the potential tribbles worth of hair that could happen, the ship had to have a kickass ventilation system. Okay. that part made sense. But they were fanatical about nothing being left out. If you used something, it went back the moment you were done, end of story, or you ran the risk of being shot straight out the nearest airlock. Even in their quarters, he discovered, everything was kept just so.

"Nikos, I don't think civilization is going to end if I leave the padd I'm going to use in an hour on the desk."

"Would putting it in the drawer right beside you cause you physical distress?" asked Nikos. "Is it too far to reach?"

"You guys are really extreme with the everything-in-its-place rule."

With a little sigh, Nikos turned to face Gary. "You're attached to a planet-bound unit, Captain. It shows. We have a completely different approach. We have to. You don't need artificial anything to survive, you have plenty of space and personnel, and if you run out of something, you just go get more. Those are luxuries we don't have on a ship. We don't have someone to clean up after us, so if you ever leave your socks on the floor again, I will incinerate them. The command crew does have a steward, but he has many more important duties than wiping the crumbs off my desk.

"As for keeping surfaces clear, if we hit a gravity sink during lightfold, that padd you left on the desk will hit the ceiling then the floor and probably the ceiling again before internal systems stabilize. Either way, it will be smashed, and it won't be replaced. And if it hits me and somehow survives the gravity sink, I'll smash it for you." He smiled threateningly and gestured toward the desk. "So much easier to just slide it into the drawer and be done."

"Okay. Point taken," said Gary, and set the padd in the drawer.

That conversation explained why so many surfaces were magnetized. Even the tables they ate off of, plates, utensils, and trays. Eating was a workout as Gary battled to free a spoonful of soup from the serving bowl his first day aboard the Silverwing. He was tempted to just drink it, but all around him the Ventrexians were managing. His struggles amused the crew mightily, and someone finally took pity on him and showed him how to balance appetite and magnetic fields. A whole conversation ensued, with officers and crew chiming in. After that, the crew seemed to warm up to him, if only a little, and Gary could appreciate the necessity of not having cutlery flying around the mess.

The next bit of weirdness was actually kind of nice. Ventrexians, like humans, were super social. Living on a ship together, they had to get along. They laughed a lot and poked of fun at one another every chance they got. Not even Nikos was immune. It had been discovered long ago by the Ventrexian military that morale, health, and discipline were vastly improved when the crew sat down together for at least one meal a day when circumstances allowed. On the Silverwing, that meant dinner with almost the whole crew every night, and the people on duty were rotated out to allow them to eat with everyone else before the meal ended. Everyone helped with that rotation, even the command crew. Gary really liked this rule, and he took advantage of the opportunity to mingle and get to know the crew that served Avocato.

The food was mostly fresh since they had just set out from Tera Con Prime. No pre-fab, freeze-dried field rations here. The meals were tasty, hot, and plentiful, and the cook and her assistant were able to produce a pretty astounding variety of dishes. No cookies, Gary learned early on. Disappointing but not too surprising. Besides, they probably would have had pepper flakes in them. Blech.

The real weirdness kicker, however, came that first night when it was time to sleep. Things went from weird to freaky to awkward and back in record time.

First off, Nikos and Gary were sharing Avocato's cabin. It was the largest of the crew's quarters, which wasn't saying much, and quite comfortable. Nikos had given his quarters to Derek and Bluestein (with strict instructions not to touch any of the artwork on the walls, having been painted by Nikos' wife). Curabb, being at the bottom of the Infinity Guard hierarchy, got an empty berth with two junior officers in a cramped cabin the size of a closet.

Second, they were exhausted and on edge. Both of them had had an incredibly long day filling unfamiliar positions. Neither was in the mood for the other.

Third . . .

"Okay, so, where do we sleep?" asked Gary, looking around the room.

Nikos pointed to the large bed centered against the back wall of the room. "On Ventrexia, we sleep on beds. Not unlike that specimen."

"Same, Mr. Smarty Pants, but I'm only seeing the one."

Nikos looked at him oddly. "That's because there is only one?"

Gary felt his jaw drop. "Do you actually expect me to sleep with you, Nikos?" he squawked, scandalized.

"I intend to sleep. I don't particularly care what you do, Gary. Just keep it quiet, please."

"I am not sleeping with you!"

"Suit yourself, but we're both on duty round the clock and need to sleep whenever we can. I am very tired."

"Do guys have cots? A sofa? Spare patch of floor? Sleeping bag?"

"No, no, no, and what?"

"Do Derek and Bluestein have to share your bed?"

"No. It's a standard size bed. It's too small for two. My cabin has another fold-down berth built into the wall."

"Does this room?" he asked desperately.

"No. The captain would never be expected to share his quarters with guests."

"But we have to share one bed?"

"It's a battleship, not a cruise ship." Confused, Nikos frowned and shrugged. "What of it?"

"What? I – I – no!" insisted Gary, feeling his face flush with embarrassment and indignation.

Nikos finally cottoned on to his issue and stared at Gary as if he'd never seen a bigger idiot in his life, which possibly he hadn't. "Do you actually think I entertain some sort of carnal interest in you, Gary Goodspeed, and this is some elaborate plot of seduction?"

He could not stop a little pout at what sounded suspiciously like being dumped. Preemptively dumped, no less, by a furball about a foot shorter than him. "It sounds really pathetic when you put it that way."

"Good, because it is. How fragile is your manhood? I'll have you know I'm happily married to a noble lady who is widely acknowledged as one of the most beautiful women on Ventrexia and the very suggestion that I have any intentions towards you is laughable. Unless, of course, you have intentions towards me? I understand you do find Ventrexians attractive."

"In your dreams, you little . . . little hairy thing, you!" snapped Gary, annoyed at these hypothetical Ventrexians laughing at him. "I find Ventrexian attractive. Ventrexian. Singular noun, pal! Tall! Blue! Shit hot! Everything you're not!"

"That's comforting. Have you never slept alongside your teammates? Camped out on a mission?"

"Well, yeah," Gary allowed reluctantly. "But camping is different! It's outside! It's . . ." Expected. Roughing it. Manly.

"How is this different just because we're on a ship?" asked Nikos with a tired sigh. "Didn't you hear me in your father's office when I told you I've shared a bed with Avocato? Sleep is all we did and all I intend to do now. What, did you assume I was in some sort of relationship outside of friendship with him?"

"Um. No."

Those blue eyes narrowed. "I'd call you a liar, but you weren't pay attention at all, were you?"

"I had a lot on my mind," Gary defended. He gestured feebly at the bed. "This is really . . . weird." He squirmed, then mumbled, "Tropey."

Disgust seeped into every line of Nikos' being, and he rubbed his head with both hands. "What the hell, Gary? Will you please stop reading fanfiction about yourself?"

"Some of it is really good!" he defended hotly, not sure why he felt the need to do so, followed by an intense feeling of unbridled foolishness and embarrassment because he'd just confirmed Nikos' suspicions. He realized this was the nearest thing he'd ever had to a domestic argument. He didn't like it or how it left him feeling out of sorts. It sucked.

Shaking his head as he gave up, Nikos grumbled as he yanked down the blankets on the bed and climbed in. "Lights off," he called to the controls. "Go to sleep, Captain. That's an order. I don't care where you do it."

Gary's stores of masculine stubbornness lasted only until he was sure Nikos was sleeping soundly. Then he crept onto the edge of the bed. He hadn't thought it possible, but he was asleep in record time, and he slept the night through.

Chapter Text

Day 3.0 of life on the Silverwing, and with the exception of Gary, the Dragonhawks had settled in as nicely as could be expected. Curabbe in particular was getting along swimmingly with his two roommates, mostly because they worked the opposite shift from what he had been assigned and so only saw one another in passing. Since as fighter pilots and gunners their skill sets weren't entirely useful aboard the ship, they helped wherever it was needed, from the kitchen to engineering. True to their words, none of them grumbled or groused (too much), though despite his willingness, Derek proved beyond useless in the kitchen and spent most of his day helping the steward.

Gary, meanwhile, followed Nikos around like a lost puppy, tried to understand what the daily reports were about, and stayed out of the way of the crew as best he could. Today, if he could have avoided Nikos as well, he would have. Last night he hadn't slept all that much, and for some reason his over-anxious and sleep-deprived brain just wanted to share, well, too much.

Just ask Nikos.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was their second night at being roommates. The only time before this that Gary had shared a room was when he was a cadet at the Tera Con Prime Imperial Academy of Military Science. (The only times before that Gary had shared a bed, there were no claws or sleeping involved. He also hadn't been unceremoniously dumped before even getting into bed. He wasn't counting that time with Quinn or the incident at summer camp with B'ay Leeb'th S'ndrs'nne).

Barracks life had not agreed with Cadet Goodspeed. Having to keep his own room clean for the first time in his life had resulted in utter failure, but he was trying his best now. And yes, when he'd hung up his spare uniform and civilian clothes in Avocato's closet, he had shamelessly shoved his face amidst all the neatly hanging garments just to get the musky scent of his boyfriend back in his nose. He didn't hug the uniforms for fear of Nikos taking one whiff and knowing exactly how silly - or was it weird? - he'd been acting, but he really wanted to.

The point was, Gary was totally trying to embrace the whole having-a-roomie thing. So far, so good, but unfortunately for Nikos, not only was Gary grossly out of practice with sharing a room, but he had questions.

Looking up from where he read a padd at the cabin's narrow desk, he softly asked, "Hey, Nikos?"

There was a long silence. The room was dark but for the glow of the screen in his hands and the chronometer built into the wall. Then the blanket-wrapped cocoon on the bed next to him stirred and asked in a muffled voice, "Whaaaat?"

"Does Avocato snore?"

Another long silence, then a disbelieving,

"Whutt?"

Clarification was called for. Nikos clearly wasn't at his sharpest when he switched to nighty-night mode.

"Does Avocato snore? Like, when he sleeps?"

Heavy blue eyes, barely visible in the dim lights in the room, opened a slit. Gary could feel the radioactive glare directed at him, feel the confusion and aggravation. And judging. Lots of judging going on over in that Ventrexian brain.

"Asking for a friend," Gary hastily improvised. "I figured if anyone knew, you would."

Because he'd slept with Avocato.

A grumble emanated from the depths of the blanket. "No."

"Oh, so he doesn't snore? Just glare if you're totally sure. Okay. Good. That's good. Good to know. Thanks, Nikos."

With a weary and put-upon sigh, Nikos resumed pupating. Gary leaned back in his chair, thinking some more.

"Hey, Nikos?"

"What?" hissed the cocoon.

"Do I snore?"

A dramatic hiss answered. "Seriously, Goodspeed?"

"Asking for a friend. Another friend. Not the Does-Avocato-Snore friend. This is the Hey-Gary-Do-You-Snore friend. A different friend."

The eyes were open for a full-frontal screw-the-ceasefire-bring-on-the-war-I'm-about-to-murder-you death glare. "I didn't believe I could despise you more. I was wrong."

Gary knew he was playing with fire, but curiosity (fueled by an intense envy of knowing Nikos, not Gary, had slept with Avocato, even though sleep was all that happened. What mattered here in Gary's brain was the sleeping with syntax) was keeping him from crawling into bed next to Nikos and trying to get some rest.

"There's always room to improve, Nikos. This is good. This is growth. Intellectual growth," he suddenly felt the need to clarify. "You're not getting taller."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Just tell me. It's important. Do I snore?"

"What does Avocato see in you?"

"He lusts after my unbridled awesomeness and shit hot bod with lips to match. So, do I? Y'know, snore?"

"If you do, I swear to Ventrexia herself that I'll smother you."

"Oh. Okay. So, I don't? Snore, I mean."

A groan.

"That's good. Good to know."

Silence.

"Hey, Nikos?"

"What the hell, Gary?"

"You don't snore."

Two screams rang out, one of fury, one of terror. Nothing more was said that night.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

So, yeah, indulging the 'ole curiosity hadn't earned him any friends last night, especially considering there had been exactly one friend candidate available at the time. Definitely topping the charts of Nikos' least favorite people after whoever kidnapped Avocato. Gary could see the error of his ways written in the hearty glare that was not thrown his way. No, Nikos wasn't quite ignoring Gary. More . . . clinging to extreme professionalism to avoid murder in the mess hall. As he collected his meaty breakfast, Gary got an extra mug of coffee (apparently the command crew had infected the rest of the crew and the coffee was really, really good) and set it in front of Nikos as a peace offering before silently assuming his seat next to his captain. For a moment Gary thought he might end up wearing said hot beverage, but it was too delicious to waste. One hard look and half a sigh later, Nikos picked up the mug, finished the sigh, and took a sip.

Gary let out the breath he'd been holding. They ate without talking, but at least it wasn't awkward. Well, not hideously awkward to the point where Gary though he might lose a limb reaching over when he offered to clear away Nikos' tray.

Nikos downed the rest of the coffee and set the mug on the tray. "Get us more coffee and come right back here."

That sounded promising. They were already in Arith sector, and the Bru system would be in range sometime tomorrow. Despite having to avoid the major routes for fear of being spotted by the Tera Con fleet, the feisty little Silverwing had made very good time. Of course, Pawlette had not stopped grumbling about the constant speed drawing heavily on the engines, but Gary suspected that was her particular method of bragging.

"Tell me, Captain, how trustworthy is Professor Van Newton's speculation?"

"More reliable than most people's facts," Gary said without hesitation, setting a steaming mug in front of Nikos.

Cool blue eyes regarded him for a long moment, weighing this response. When Nikos finally nodded and picked up the coffee, Gary counted it as his statement being accepted.

Nikos activated the padd he always seemed to have at hand, scrolling through the information displayed. "From the report Sir John sent, not much is known about Yarno outside of its existence and its lawlessness. I'm not interested in learning much more outside of where my captain is being held and how to get him free."

"Same, dude. I mean sir," said Gary. "Same, sir. I said sir."

Nikos ignored the slip. "We need to decide now who we'll send down and how we'll return to the ship. Furthermore, if the Tera Con fleet is here, we both know they won't take kindly to our presence so far from our usual areas of patrol."

"So we use the DragonHawks to scout," reasoned Gary. "Can Silverwing land?"

"Yes, but I want to avoid that except as a last resort. Ideally I'd like to keep her out of orbit and out of range. How many people can fit into a Hawk?"

Gary grimaced slightly. "The fighters are a bit more cramped than the standard scout ships, but there is a bit of storage space. Four, maybe, if they don't mind getting a bit intimate."

"Show me."

They were poking around the small compartment behind the gunner's seat in DragonHawk V (which, to Gary's relief, had been emptied of any food wrappers and magazines Derek might have accumulated) when the call came.

"Captain, priority message incoming for you and Captain Goodspeed," said the comm officer, his voice echoing. "It's an encrypted commburst, sir."

"Relay it to the state room," ordered Nikos. "We'll take it there."

The state room brought back sharp memories of good food, good wine, and good company as Gary and Avocato had set in motion this plan that had somehow seized the attention and hope of the known universe. While he didn't regret their relationship, Gary deeply regretted everything that had befallen Avocato. Tossed into an arena and forced to fight for his life was not how Gary – or Avocato, he was sure – had envisioned their breakfast date ending.

He took the same seat at the table as when he'd been Avocato's guest. While the Ventrexian who sat down at the head of table was not the one Gary wanted to see, he let himself once again be impressed with what a capable officer Nikos was. He could see where this little spitfire balanced Avocato nicely. He wondered what they'd be like in battle. Amazing. Unstoppable. Probably so perfectly attuned to one another that they didn't even need to talk. The kind of synchrony that comes from facing life and death and never being afraid because the person you trust most is standing at your back.

He realized he was staring only when Nikos cocked an eyebrow at him – and why Ventrexians had eyebrows was a Whole Other Topic which Gary needed to tackle some day when he had time for pointless contemplation – and asked,

"Captain?"

Gary blinked, jolted back to the here-and-now. "Before we get into the official stuff, can I ask you something that you asked me last night?"

Nikos blinked at that mess of a sentence. "Yes?"

He swallowed, bracing himself before quietly asking,

"What does Avocato see in me?"

He might have gotten snarky with his reply and remained perfectly within his rights, but to Gary's relief, Nikos seemed to sense Gary's genuine contriteness and curiosity and concern. Sitting back in his chair, Nikos considered for so long that Gary could not help but ramble.

"I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want, but I figured if anyone knew, it would be you because you're, you know, Avocato's best friend and - "

"Hope."

The word brought Gary up short. He had used the same word on Avocato, had it used on him by Professor Van Newton. Somehow, though, it seemed something far greater and more important than simple Gary Goodspeed.

"You encompass everything Avocato hopes for. Peace, love, a family, security, laughter, music," said Nikos without a hint sarcasm. "You give him all those things. Mind you, he's always had them, but in you, these aspects converge and are focused on him."

Gary could not find the words to form anything resembling an answer at this declaration. Nikos smirked, pleased to have silenced him.

"Stay the course, and what follows is trust, then loyalty, and finally, understanding."

"So . . . where are you on that chart?"

The smirk became a knowing smile. "Avocato and I passed understanding years ago."

Lucky bastard. A laugh welled up in his throat. "So why didn't you marry him?"

"I'm not in love with him," said Nikos, frowning at the very suggestion. "He's my friend. My captain. My brother. I love Avocato, but I'm in love with my wife."

"So what you're telling me is there's a Ventrexian alive who's hotter than Avocato?"

"Someday you'll meet Cordell, Captain Goodspeed, and you'll understand exactly what I mean when I say I married the most beautiful woman in existence. Now, have I answered your question? Can we get on to the message our superiors sent us?"