Perdix's Lament
Title: Perdix's Lament, Part II
Author's Name: frostian
Artist's Name: 3whiteroses
Genre: RPS, AU
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Main character deaths
Summary: Humanity is at the brink of war as the relationship between the two major ruling parties disintegrate under bloody assassinations and accusations. Representatives from both sides, desperate in the hopes of avoiding annihilation, meet in secret, trying to stave off a conflagration that would set back humanity into the days before space travel. But neither party knows that there's a third group keen to see war explode across all systems. (Conclusion to Three Grams.)
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Manti, Capital of Terra II
Senator Dunrea felt his years as he watched his grandchildren play a rousing game of bounce-light. Nevertheless, the doting grandfather managed a hearty cheer when Deidre, his only granddaughter, kicked the glowing oblong-shaped ball into the goal as it careened off one of the gravity boards embedded in the walls.
“Children always make the game look so easy,” a gravely voice said from behind the Senator.
Dunrea’s smile was genuine as he turned around to greet his lieutenant. “Good morning, Jeff.”
Lieutenant Jeffrey Morgan sat down on the empty seat next to Dunrea without invitation. He already knew the Senator expected him to join for breakfast.
“I finished reviewing the intel Governor Murray sent over for the meeting,” Jeff said. “I must admit - he’s a very thorough man.”
“Everyone else is dismissing him as a political aberration,” Dunrea said, “because they believe he won due to his familial lines.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with that?” Jeff asked, a hint of a smile painted on his lips.
“I thought I might have to,” Dunrea confessed. “But, as it turned out, my involvement wasn’t necessary. Young Murray is as resourceful as his father, and twice as devious. He had the throne before the previous governor even vacated: all he needed was to make it official.”
“Don’t you think his friendship with the second Padalecki son to be … well, questionable?”
“No,” Dunrea answered. “It’s a childhood friendship, and those can form between very different personalities.”
“I met the late Doctor Padalecki once,” Morgan revealed without a drop of caution. “I liked him.”
Dunrea looked at his captain in surprise. “When?”
“It was during my walkabout days,” Jeff said. “Their hybrid child, Jensen, was kidnapped.”
“By whom? And why?”
“By Eben Noah, actually.”
Dunrea closed his eyes as his face spasmed in pain and regret. “So, it’s true. They did kill Joshua’s son.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Jeff said. “But they were adamant about getting the hybrid back. Paid a huge sum to make it happen, actually.”
“So, you met the artificial consort?” Dunrea looked interested. “What’s he like? I heard he’s very retiring.”
“I didn't interact with him so I couldn't tell you,” Jeff said. “He was unconscious when we rescued him, but I have to admit - the hybrid’s a masterpiece, even among his kind.”
“But I saw vids of the creature: he’s disfigured, isn’t he? I remember seeing scars, even facial discoloration.”
Jeff grinned widely enough to show crinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Freckles, they’re called freckles, Senator.”
“Really? I didn’t know there was a word for the medical condition.”
Jeff’s grin got bigger. Due to cosmetic advancement, such discolorations and unsightly blemishes were eradicated long ago.
“It used to be very common,” Jeff explained. “But, yes, the hybrid has such a condition. It’s not severe, and actually makes him look a bit more approachable. I’d imagine without such faults, Jensen Ackles might seem too inaccessible to humans.”
“I see,” Dunrea said. “Do you think he’ll attend?”
“Wherever Jared Padalecki goes: his hybrid follows. That might cause a problem.”
“Why? Does the doll have special needs?”
“No, I fear that any slight against his consort will be felt by Padalecki. And the situation is volatile enough already without adding that particular problem.”
“Do you honestly believe the colonists will want their do … hybrids to be declared autonomous beings?”
“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jeff answered. “They don’t see them the way you do. To them these creatures are equals in every manner. And should they want such evocation on behalf of their hybrids: I can’t see how we can refuse.”
“It would be a very sticky matter,” Dunrea said, considering the number of dolls owned by the rich and the powerful who would abhor the idea of their toys being suddenly declared free beings. “But I guess that’s why theirs live so much longer than ours.”
“Any news as to how long it will take Beaver to replace the malfunctioning parts?” Jeff asked.
Dunrea quirked an eyebrow. “Why? Are you thinking about acquiring one?”
“Of course not,” Jeff said. “But I’ve been getting steady complaints from my men who do own one of the recalls. They’re not too happy right now, and unhappy soldiers make for sloppy ones.”
“From what I understand, it’s the entire cortical complex that needs to be replaced. Otherwise, the dol … hybrids would not last any longer than the initial date on the contract.”
“So, I guess I better tell my men to just to sit tight and wait patiently,” Jeff groused. “This is another function of my job I detest.”
“Regret donning your cap again?”
Jeff looked at the flat-brimmed hat sitting in his hands: the red and white waves denoting his rank. “No, but I have to admit I was surprised to hear you wanted me to return. Especially after the way I left your unit.”
“Nonsense,” Dunrea said. “Jeff, you were angry - we all were. The way the war began, the way it ended. It was all a bloody mess. I was only grateful to find out that you survived.”
“You do know that I fought for the colonial side, right?”
“Yes, I am aware,” Dunrea said dryly. “But you did it for the right reasons. And the fact that I asked you to re-enlist should tell you how much I respected your decision.”
“The funny thing is I haven’t returned to Ogden,” Jeff said. “Ever since the war ended. I thought I did it all so I could go home with my head held high.
“But I can’t. Even after so long … I can’t.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Dunrea said. “I didn’t know. Maybe after this meeting, you will be able to start your journey back home.”
“Do you think it will go well?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Dunrea confessed. “But I fear more of what is ahead if we do not.”
Jeff pulled out his personal comm and spread the four corners until its screen dominated most of the small breakfast table. “Nerum is going to be almost impossible to secure. The area they had chosen as the meeting site used to be its capital.”
“Asaph was a beautiful city,” Dunrea recollected with sadness. “I visited it twice in my youth: its natural beauty struck me as ethereal. And the people there were just as gentle and kind as I was told they would be.”
“What happened to them?”
“Exile for those who survived the incursion,” Dunrea answered. “They were driven out of their homes without warning, so they were able to pack only what they could grab at a moment's notice. Most of them were reduced to paupers when they arrived at the refugee camps. They died longing for their home.”
“Save for the Everhauers.”
“Yes, they were the exception,” Dunrea said. “But it was because they were off-world when the Lament occurred. Lady Grace Everhauer was a famous artist in her youth, and she and her husband were touring with her latest exhibit when their homeworld was destroyed.”
“I can’t determine if they were lucky or damned.”
“Probably both to varying degrees,” Dunrea said. “It is rather poetic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know anything about poets, but I do know you chose a nightmare for this summit.
"General, are you sure you want Nerum?”
“It’s a symbolic gesture, Jeff, but a powerful one. Don’t underestimate people’s love of symbols. Besides, if anyone wants to know what the end result of a war looks like - all they have to do is take a look outside. They’ll have an eyeful of what could be ahead for all of us if we decide to take up arms instead.”
“All right, I can see the attraction,” Jeff relented with grudging admiration. “But it’s still pretty much impossible for us to build a defensible position.”
“Whatever gaps you have, they will fill,” Dunrea said. “No offense, but the colonials will have better luck arranging security in that terrain.”
“What makes you think they’ll be honest?”
“I don’t trust them per se, but I do trust Jared Padalecki,” Dunrea answered. “And the colonials will do nothing to embarrass him, and they will most certainly do nothing to jeopardize his safety.”
“You don’t think for a moment they’ll try to kill you even if it means they will end up killing him?”
Dunrea shook his head emphatically. “No. After his father’s death, Jared has become the undeclared heir to his legacy. And most of the whispers I’m hearing tell me they are expecting great things from the second son.”
“So, he’s going to continue his father’s good work?”
“Yes, and more importantly, the colonials need his ingenuity. You have to understand, he’s producing results just like his father. And I believe the colonials fully expect him to fulfill his father’s vision for them.”
“Don’t you wonder what kind of world that might be?”
“No, not at all,” Dunrea answered. “Whatever the answer, it’s not important to the summit: do you understand?”
“Sir, for these people, their past influences their behavior very, very much. They’re not like us. And the quicker you understand that fact, the faster you’ll see this summit is going to cause a lot of problems. Maybe even more than any good that might come out of it.”
“We have to take that risk,” Dunrea said. “Unless you wish to train another generation of recruits to go to another war just like you did when you were little more than a boy.”
Jeff deflated. “Of course, I understand.”
“I knew you would,” Dunrea reached over and grasped Jeff’s arm. “Make sure this summit goes through.”
“I will, sir.”
Jeff left the breakfast table with its drinks cooling in the morning air. He made his way to the bottom of the hill abutting the mansion and entered a small doorway cleverly hidden from view.
There were many corridors branching off from the entrance but there was only one that interested the lieutenant. He passed through various checkpoints, not once stopping for the security system manning the underground bunker, which recognized him the moment he entered through the main door.
He hit a large hall, Spartan in decoration but luxurious in what little there was. Jeff saw his second-in-command writing a private letter on his comm. He looked very invested in whatever it was, but Jeff knew better.
Chris had already identified his superior the moment his sharp hearing caught Jeff’s footsteps as he walked down the hall. And was probably notified by the security system since Chris hacked into it in order to inject a code that would allow him to access it whenever he wished.
“How did the meeting go?” Chris asked. “Did the good General ask for the moon and the stars?”
“Worse, he wants the meeting to go off without a problem."
“That’s not going to happen,” Chris said. “How can Dunrea expect it to go smoothly? People are dead. The Padaleckis’ assassination has been playing in an unending loop amongst the colonial vid networks.”
“Dunrea has to believe that peace is possible,” Jeff said. “Otherwise, the Senate will be responsible for the war that is looming on the horizon.”
“He thinks they’ll be blamed? What about Noah?”
“Noah’s dead: the people will want live targets and the Senate will do just as nicely.” Jeff looked around before asking, “Where’s Steve?”
“You’re not going to believe this but Steve found something during his research in the Archives,” Chris answered. “It’s called ‘sausage’: sounds appetizing, doesn’t it?”
“And what might that be?” Jeff asked, genuinely curious.
Chris handed over his personal comm. “It isn’t a joke: people actually ate this stuff.”
Jeff read the small passage, his eyes growing wider. “Well, during times of famine I guess people had to make do with whatever was around.”
“Not at all,” Chris said with malicious gleefulness. “This was considered normal foodstuff, even a delicacy in certain cultures.”
“I’ll be the first to admit I’ve gotten desperate but never that bad.” Jeff tossed the comm back to Chris. “Personally, I think it’s incomprehensible, but whatever. So, what is Steve exactly doing?”
“Trying to recreate this ‘sausage’ thing.”
“That’s not possible,” Jeff countered. “Half of the ingredients aren’t available and the other half’s illegal.”
“Wouldn’t stop Steve,” Chris said with a knowing grin. “If it’s not bad maybe I’ll save you some.”
“I’d rather chew the grass I just trampled on,” Jeff said. “Did you finalize the list?”
“Yeah, the records are sitting on your desk,” Chris answered. “Counting me and Steve, we’re going to need four men on planet-side, and that’s not including the pilots.”
“I’ve already chosen the pilots: Samson and Tang.”
“Good men,” Chris readily agreed. “They can take the pressure.”
“You heard about what happened to Samson in St. Helen?”
Chris nodded. “I’ve got one word for that mess: gruesome.”
“Then you know how he’ll react,” Jeff said.
“Sounds like a good choice.”
Jeff heard some clatter and turned just in time to see Steve enter the room, his grey uniform half-doused in blood, but that didn’t present half the bizarre sight as a clump of bags he was carrying: some of which were translucent enough to reveal their dubious contents.
“I got lucky,” Steve said breathlessly. “I found someone who had what I needed.”
“Lucky?” Jeff managed to croak out. “That’s debatable from where I’m standing.”
Steve shrugged and rushed out of the room, heading towards the mess.
Chris watched the dripping bags leave a trail of blood and mucus and something else unidentifiable. “I’m not cleaning that up.”
“I’ll send someone,” Jeff said, looking slightly queasy at the aftermath.
Chris gave a nod of approval and sank deeper into his bed, his attention riveted back to whatever he was writing before Jeff interrupted him.
Jeff went to his small but private room and sat on his anti-grav chair. He closed his eyes as the personal massager and heater turned on, their settings already notched to his preference.
I have to finalize soon, because things are going to happen very quickly. No matter what Dunrea actually believes, I must succeed. Otherwise, there will be endless war.
And that can’t happen. Must not happen.
Air Space above Nerum
Hardeol System
Jared stood still, watching the stars come into focus as the cruiser came out of travel speed. He felt the initial jolt when the ship’s main engines shut down, then the soothing hum when the weaker second engine took over as the cruiser started approaching Nerum and her gravity pull.
Jensen entered the observatory room and approached Jared until he was standing next to solemn man. “It used to be blue,” he said.
“I saw the archives," Jared said. "Ninety-two percent of this planet was covered in water. Fresh water, not salt, but water nonetheless.
“No wonder the Everhauers loved it so much.”
“Most of their cities were built on water,” Jensen said softly. “And the main mode of transportation used to be boats. People used old-fashioned sails to steer them.”
“That must have been beautiful to see,” Jared said, eyes softening as he imagined the vista. But the happy moment didn’t last long. The barren thing that was now Nerum was a grim reminder of what happened when anyone decided to go against the wishes of the various corporate entities and private syndicates that held tight-fisted control over the governing powers.
Jensen, sensing his darkening mood, gently clasped Jared’s hands with his. He placed a light kiss on the shoulder and said, “We must do this.”
“I know,” Jared said. "But I can’t help but feel we’re walking into a trap.”
“It is a trap,” Jensen said. “But the question is whose it is: ours or theirs?”
“You trust Chad, then?”
“I wouldn’t trust Chad with a bowl of poisonous twigs,” Jensen said. “But that’s because he’s a glutton. However, when it comes to his ego - Chad is most certainly trustworthy. He won’t let anything damage his pride, and his pride hangs on this meeting ending peacefully.
“Whether there will be any resolution is another matter altogether, of course.”
“Of course,” Jared echoed dryly. “Do you know who Chad hired as security?”
“He wouldn't tell me,” Jensen answered, sounding miffed. “But Chad trusts the man, so I do. Besides, I have no … connection with that world, Jared. I wouldn’t know who would be a trustworthy mercenary and who’s not.”
Jared grinned. “That’s true.”
“Why are you smiling?” Jensen looked at Jared. “You’re the one who bought that atrocious rug from the merchant who claimed it was a genuine relic from the Holy Land.”
“It passed the screening!” Jared protested.
“Of course it did,” Jensen replied. “He corrupted the database so all his wares would pass screening. An apple would’ve passed screening as the Chalice of Eosphorus.”
Jared smiled, but it soon disappeared when Nerum caught his attention once more. “So, we’re about to hold a meeting on a dead planet, with a group who’d likely to kill us as to make peace, and protected by people we’ve never met.”
“How could it possibly go wrong?”
Jared felt a little better at Jensen’s serene and supremely sarcastic conclusion. The two men continued to study Nerum until the pilot personally told them the shuttles were ready.
Jensen studiously ignored the man’s surreptitious glances of his features and followed Jared without hesitation but two steps behind, as Jensen was well aware of outsiders’ perception of his position in Jared’s life.
However, he was too busy with helping Jared that little slights, political or social, rarely affected him anymore.
Not that they had any real power over him, but when it became clear that Jared wasn’t going to marry a PBE-cleared female, the social pressures on Jensen became unmanageable. He withdrew from society and focused instead on helping Jared who was too busy to notice at the time. So, when Sandy came up with the idea of carrying Jared’s child, Jensen couldn’t help but feel greatly relieved.
Sabine went a long way to ease the tension between Jensen and Praides’ noble society of which Jared was a reluctant member. And after the Sabine was declared a healthy child, Jensen slowly began showing up once more by Jared’s side on various social occasions, mainly because his name also started reappearing on the invitations.
Jensen fervently hoped that Jared and Sandy would have a second child. That way, Jared’s unspoken social obligation would be paid in full, and they could live out the rest of their lives in peace. Or as much as possible with Jared being who he was, and his position of immeasurable power in the Pickler System.
The shuttle began slicing through Nerum’s airspace but halted for a moment as the pilot pointed out Dunrea’s cruiser. Jensen sourly noted even in space, opulence and grandeur was not impossible.
Jared sighed a little and leaned back into the sparse seat. “I wonder what they’re thinking right now.”
“Whether it’s possible to rehabilitate Nerum and make profit from it?”
Jensen’s cynical retort only elicited a smile from Jared who turned to study him. “I had no idea you could also read my mind.”
Jensen waited until the shuttle landed before answering, “It’s not too hard to see what the High Council would want to do with a place like Nerum. There may not be any water, but that can be corrected, and within few years this planet may be habitable again.
“Especially if you consider the fact that the buildings were left intact.”
“I’d be genuinely upset if they did that,” Jared said.
Nerum, a member of the original earth’s charter, was quite sympathetic to the plight of the mining planets to the point their position in the Senate was being actively undermined. This later allowed Council Leader Barnes to order the forced exodus of Nerumens from their homes.
When they stepped off the shuttle, the scene that greeted them was grim yet beautiful. Tall, thin buildings spiraled into the blackened sky. Though the dust and rain of ashes had ceased long before, the sun was still hidden by constant cloud cover.
“This is a grave,” Jared said after he finished looking around. “The largest grave we’ll ever see, hopefully.”
“Dunrea knew what he was doing when he chose Nerum,” Jensen said. “It’s a very good reminder of what will happen should we fail to reach some agreement.”
“I wonder how much of an impact this will have on them,” Jared said.
“As much as their imagination will allow, I think.”
They saw a man exit a dome and approach them. “Looks like militia.”
As the stranger got closer, Jensen frowned; he couldn’t recognize the man but the familiarity he was feeling was alarming. And the stranger exhibited little hesitation when he spotted them.
He extended his hand in the traditional greeting. “My name is Jeffrey Morgan.”
Jared stiffened visibly before whirling towards Jensen who looked at both men with confusion.
“I’m sorry - have we met before?” Jensen asked.
“This is the man who saved you from the pirates,” Jared explained.
“Oh, your father told you about me?” Jeff looked genuinely taken back. “I didn’t think he would.”
“I … pestered him until he did,” Jared admitted reluctantly. “But I want to personally thank you for what you did for all of us.”
“I wish I could accept your gratitude, but I can’t,” Jeff said. “I was just … I was a merc back then, do you understand? And your father paid very generously. But I have to admit, it felt nice to do something right and get paid,” Jeff looked at Jensen and his face softened. “You look much better. Not that that should be a surprise to me. But you also aged.”
“We do that,” Jensen said. “We being hybrid children.”
“No, but that’s not what I usually … see,” Jeff confessed. “The hybrids I’ve seen get old to a certain age but tends to stay young. You, on the other hand, are the same age as … as your … I’m sorry, I was about to say owner.”
Jensen shook his head. “No need to apologize. May I ask - are you without rank? Because if you work for Dunrea, then I believe you aren’t just a civilian.”
“I’m not,” Jeff said. “Dunrea was my commanding officer during the Conflict: when I worked for the Central Planets. I switched sides after my first tour and went over to the colonials.”
“And Dunrea didn’t hold it against you?” Jared asked, shocked by the revelation.
“He had no say, I left my unit without a word,” Jeff answered. “I was floored when Dunrea reached me. I had no idea how he found me.”
“The man’s connections are far and wide,” Jared said. “Look at the fact that we are here, in Nerum.”
“True,” Jeff said. “I was wondering if you know what happened to your security team?”
“They’ve landed some time ago,” Jared answered. “I’ve gotten word that they’ve secured their location.”
“Any chance I’ll meet them? Because I am head of security for Dunrea and we need to discuss a few things.”
“I’ll see to it that our representative meet with you as soon as possible,” Jensen replied, earning a hard look from Jeff.
“Well, then, follow me,” Jeff said.
The two men walked few steps behind Jeff who didn’t look back to see if they would do as he asked. The lieutenant led them into the dome and into a section clearly marked off for personal usage.
“What was this place?” Jared asked. “Our information was spotty.”
“It was a temple,” Jeff answered, “dedicated to a goddess named Heth.”
“Heth,” Jensen said. “The goddess of life and childbirth. It was a small faction, very closely tied with the medical sector. She was a combination of various female deities from Original Earth.”
“Mostly female worshippers?” Jared guessed, studying the walls and the many decorative carvings.
Jensen nodded. “They weren’t very widespread even at their height of popularity; from what I understand, small pockets still practice in the outer colonies where medical ships don’t reach on usual basis.”
“Not surprising,” Jeff said. “But goddess of childbirth? That part I haven’t heard of.”
“Not an idea that would be well received,” Jensen said, “if you consider the laws regarding childbirth.”
“You think settlers on the outer systems are having children against regulations?” Jeff asked.
“What do you think?” Jensen asked.
“If I had a wife and she wanted a child, I’d laugh at whoever told me I couldn’t have a baby: not after what I paid to be considered a ‘citizen’.”
Jensen gave a small nod of understanding: silent, elegant, but telling.
Jeff studied Jensen as the consort traced a carving with his fingers. “You admire it?”
Jensen smiled. “You mean do I have the capacity to appreciate art in its purest form?”
“Something like that.”
“Yes, I do,” Jensen answered. “I can appreciate a thing of beauty like any human being. It’s not hard, actually.”
Jeff pointed to a hallway to his left and said, “Everything’s arranged for you in there. If you need anything else, the comm system will link you directly to me.”
Hard footsteps tore their attention from each other. They turned in unison to see a man enter the temple. He was tall, and just as broad as Jared - perhaps even more athletic. And his stance, his walk, all spoke of harsh training and a life-long tradition in the martial field.
“Identify yourself,” Jeff said.
“Name’s Justin,” the stranger said. “I’m head of security for Dr. Padalecki’s contingent.”
“You have something to back that up besides your tongue?” Jeff challenged without malice.
Justin turned to Jared and handed over a stack of write-sheets: a thin, encrypted pad designed to resemble ancient paper but with enough hardware to be its own server.
Jared read through the stack and said, “He’s legitimate. By the way, this is Sergeant Justin Hartley.”
“May I?” Jeff asked.
Jared handed four out of seven of the write-sheets and pocketed the rest. Jeff raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He scanned through the sheets and frowned.
“How long have you been here?”
“We arrived three days before you did,” Justin answered. “We’ve watched you set up base camp. Looks like you brought a lot of luxuries for a simple two-day summit.”
“The Senators like their comforts,” Jeff said. “Where are you camped now?”
“Up on the ridge,” Justin said, pointing out a window and to the highest hill on the horizon. “We’re packing up now. You should expect us by sunset.”
“How did you get up there without leaving trails?” Jeff asked. “We scanned the airspace but there wasn’t any trace of ship ionization.”
“We terra-jumped,” Justin said.
Jared looked at him in shock. “What?”
Even Jeff was rendered speechless by Justin’s explanation. Terra-jumping was banned outright by the High Council only few years after its debut. Soldiers were equipped with suits that allowed them to jump from ship while it was still in space. This made it possible for the terra-jumpers to enter the planet’s airspace without leaving ionization trails like shuttles would. However, the failure rate of the suits was extreme: so extreme that the military asked the program to be scrapped.
As this type of request hardly ever appeared, the High Council agreed and banned terra-jumping. Not even in the last Conflict was the practice allowed by either side.
“Where did you learn to terra-jump?” Jensen asked.
“On Moiren IV where I grew up,” Justin said, facing beaming in pride. “It’s a sport there.”
“Are you serious?” Jeff looked at the young soldier. “A sport?!”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and we’ve developed gear to make it safer … relatively, that is.”
“It must be incredibly dull on Moiren IV,” Jared said dryly.
“The fact that we took to terra-jumping as a form of entertainment should tell you how boring it is,” Justin said. “So, any other questions?”
“Please check in with me when you arrive, and that goes for all your men,” Jeff said. “We need a head count. That way we don’t kill any of your people by accident.”
“Will keep that in mind,” Justin said.
Jared looked up at the ridge that Justin pointed. “That’s pretty far, how are you going to get up there?”
“I modified a pack from terra-jumping,” Justin explained. “It eats up a lot of energy but allows me to move quickly.”
“That can’t be good for your bones,” Jensen said as he mentally calculated the pressure against Justin’s frame if he traveled above-recommended speed.
“So is terra-jumping,” Justin said. “My men and I will be here, soon.”
Jeff gave a smirk and left them, obviously busy with his own schedule. Justin waited until he couldn’t hear the captain’s footsteps before approaching them.
“I don’t know if Governor Murray told you, but never take off your transmitters,” Justin cautioned his charge.
Both Jared and Jensen glanced down at the rings on their fingers. To any casual observer the jewelry resembled commitment bands.
“If anything happens, we’ll know,” Justin said. “It’s tagged with your genetic signature, so any fluctuations will raise an alarm.”
“Considering what this meeting’s about, wouldn’t that set off the alarm every five minutes?” Jared asked humorously.
“We’ve calculated stress levels also,” Justin said. “Also, there’s a safe word you can use as a trigger: Christmas.”
“What’s … Criss-mas?” Jared asked, confused. He looked at Jensen who shrugged in ignorance.
“C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s. An amalgamation of ancient holidays, mainly celebrated by Christians of Original Earth,” Justin answered. “It carried for a while when humans achieved space travel, but died because of lack of cohesive faith structure when families were initially isolated during deep space exploration and mining. Some of its traditions could be found in Festival of Lights.”
“Like candles and such?” Jared asked.
“Yes, the single candle by the window is from the ancient tradition,” Justin said.
“But how are we suppose to incorporate that word in a sentence and not get noticed?” Jensen asked. “It’s a very strange term to use.”
“Christmas was also famed for the gift-giving part of the celebration,” Justin replied. “People used to give presents during this particular holiday.”
Jared looked at Jensen. “I think we could find a way to wedge the word in if we need to.”
“Christmas?” Jensen said softly, rolling the word with his tongue. “What a fascinating tradition.”
“I will check in with you first when my men and I arrive,” Justin said.
“You know they probably tagged you the moment they were alerted to your presence,” Jared said.
“And I’ve got a scrambler to make them very unhappy,” Justin replied with a roguish smile. “I’m not here to make friends or impress people. I’m here to make sure everyone on your team stay safe and exit alive.”
“Sounds like a respectable plan to me,” Jared said. “Go get your men before Morgan becomes angrier.”
Justin gave a snappy salute then exited the building, looking all of eighteen in spite of his demeanor and bulk.
“Do you know anything about him?” Jensen asked.
“No,” Jared answered. “Chad told me next to nothing because he didn’t want the security team compromised. But he did tell me one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“That the security leader would use the word ‘Christmas’ in our first meeting.”
“Very clever,” Jensen said. “Very clever indeed.”
“I saw the look on your face: you were puzzled as to why we were having an in-depth discussion about such an arcane word.”
“I was, actually,” Jensen said. “But I thought it was one of your quirks.”
Jared leaned over and gave a light kiss on Jensen’s lips. “Thank you for your patience.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. He then looked at his right hand and examined the ring on his thumb. “It looks just like ours.”
“Chad probably had them custom-made,” Jared remarked as he studied his. “This is fine craftsmanship.”
Jensen wasn’t worried that Jared was talking so freely. Before they left Praides, Jared had created a type of scrambler that guaranteed them privacy whenever necessary. Jared had it embedded in his groin, guaranteeing that it would be overlooked if there were a full-body scan performed on his person.
Jensen was horrified by Jared’s idea. However, Jared convinced him that he was the safe choice. Since Jensen was a hybrid, Dunrea’s security team would know any signatures Jensen would create, and a single deviation would be more than enough for them to detain Jensen until the summit was over.
Of course, Jared had to ask Jensen to perform the minor surgical procedure. And, to his credit, Jensen performed it perfectly.
Jared had later joked that Jensen had to perform flawlessly, as he had vested interest in Jared’s nether parts. Jensen did not reply with his usual wit, but instead winced before hurrying out of the room under a flimsy excuse.
Jared decided wisely not to tease Jensen any further.
As he'd promised, Justin arrived with six men, one woman, all resembling their Sergeant with their athletic but lean build and sun-burnt blond hair. And though they gave due respect towards Jared, it was Jensen they were fascinated with. One of them, Abraham Bollmar, actually approached Jensen and engaged him in a conversation.
Jensen was agreeable enough, but when the question turned rather personal, he immediately put a stop to it. Jensen wasn’t offended: humans who had limited to no contact with hybrids had very little idea about their need for privacy and what constituted personal data. His refusal was politely given and was received with equanimity.
Bollmar returned to his compatriots and seemed to eagerly share whatever meager information he managed to eck out of Jensen.
Having gone through this cycle many times, Jensen dismissed them as a threat.
Jared invariably came to a different conclusion.
Most men were curious to meet Jensen: a hybrid who lived an open existence as Jared’s consort, and the main reason why he never married a woman. Their curiosity was mostly innocent, but there were always a few who were interested because they were attracted to Jensen.
Jensen learned how to deal with such offers but Jared had harder time. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found it especially hard when the men were from the militia. Maybe it was because of their frank appreciation of Jensen and all his attributes; maybe it was because they were uniformly in great shape and had a lifestyle that guaranteed their lovers relative safety and comfort. But whatever the reason, Jared couldn’t easily dismiss them as he could when the admirers were draped in ridiculous layers of silk and cotton.
Jensen continued to read his comm, typing in whatever came to mind as Jared talked with the men responsible for their safety.
Justin, as if sensing Jared’s discomfort, shortened the meeting and left with his unit.
Jared looked at Jensen and once more wondered why Jensen decided to age himself. As tactless as Jeff was earlier, he was correct about one thing: hybrids didn’t age much. They usually reached early adult years and remained so until they were deactivated or recycled.
Jared appreciated the fact that Jensen knew him well enough to realize that Jared would prefer him to continue as his ‘older’ consort. But he wondered what would happen as he continued to grow old.
Would Jensen follow suit? Would he, too, continue to be four years older?
Jared looked down at his worn hands. He hadn’t really taken care of himself. Though he lived a privileged existence, Jared did most of the necessary manual labor because he was wary of hiring a complete stranger to enter his rather insulated existence. The crowlines around his eyes were getting deeper every year, and he knew there were more than few gray strands now highlighting his hair. But, unlike other men of wealth in Praides, Jared did nothing to take care of these minor cosmetic details.
His hands were encompassed by Jensen’s. Jared noted they were as worn and lined as his was. With a tiny smile, he leaned down and kissing them.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jensen whispered. “That after you become old, I would somehow miraculously become younger and seek other men.”
He knows me so well. Better than I know myself. How many times have I wondered if that’s a good thing.
“Maybe,” Jared admitted. “Bollmar reminds me a lot of myself when I was young and able to beat you in a footrace.”
“Really?” Jensen’s tone was light and teasing. “Because he reminds me nothing of you. He’s taller, more handsome…”
Jared laughed. “The insults I put up with.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Jensen said. “Now, let’s stop with these ridiculous thoughts and focus on more important things.”
“Such as?”
“Why in sanity’s land Dunrea likes his tea cold,” Jensen muttered. “In fact, both Senators like their food as cold as possible.”
“It’s harder to poison cold food,” Jared answered. “With modern pharmaceuticals, that idea is completely passé, but the practice is still very popular.”
“Seems like too much of a sacrifice for so little benefit,” Jensen answered, frowning.
“Why are you worried about the temperature of Dunrea’s tea?”
“One of my duties is to oversee the kitchen,” Jensen said. “Personally, I think they were desperate to try and give me something to do so I would be unable to escort you to the summit itself.”
“Because you’ll be a detriment to the meeting?” Jared mulled over the idea. “But how?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Jensen said. “But my presence makes them uneasy for some reason.”
“I wonder if they received some intel that makes them behave in such a manner,” Jared said. “And, if so, who passed it to them.”
“Whatever they may think, I am not in the habit of being banished to the kitchen because some senator doesn’t like what he reads.”
Jared took serious account of Jensen’s anger about the duties he’d been relegated to and mentally noted to ensure Jensen’s presence was necessary in the meetings by any means. He didn’t know why the Senators wanted to segregate Jensen but Jared wasn’t going to bow down to their wishes. Because if they could successfully bully him in such an important matter, it would make for a bad precedent: one Jared dared not set.
Part I * Part III
Author's Name: frostian
Artist's Name: 3whiteroses
Genre: RPS, AU
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Main character deaths
Summary: Humanity is at the brink of war as the relationship between the two major ruling parties disintegrate under bloody assassinations and accusations. Representatives from both sides, desperate in the hopes of avoiding annihilation, meet in secret, trying to stave off a conflagration that would set back humanity into the days before space travel. But neither party knows that there's a third group keen to see war explode across all systems. (Conclusion to Three Grams.)
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Manti, Capital of Terra II
Senator Dunrea felt his years as he watched his grandchildren play a rousing game of bounce-light. Nevertheless, the doting grandfather managed a hearty cheer when Deidre, his only granddaughter, kicked the glowing oblong-shaped ball into the goal as it careened off one of the gravity boards embedded in the walls.
“Children always make the game look so easy,” a gravely voice said from behind the Senator.
Dunrea’s smile was genuine as he turned around to greet his lieutenant. “Good morning, Jeff.”
Lieutenant Jeffrey Morgan sat down on the empty seat next to Dunrea without invitation. He already knew the Senator expected him to join for breakfast.
“I finished reviewing the intel Governor Murray sent over for the meeting,” Jeff said. “I must admit - he’s a very thorough man.”
“Everyone else is dismissing him as a political aberration,” Dunrea said, “because they believe he won due to his familial lines.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with that?” Jeff asked, a hint of a smile painted on his lips.
“I thought I might have to,” Dunrea confessed. “But, as it turned out, my involvement wasn’t necessary. Young Murray is as resourceful as his father, and twice as devious. He had the throne before the previous governor even vacated: all he needed was to make it official.”
“Don’t you think his friendship with the second Padalecki son to be … well, questionable?”
“No,” Dunrea answered. “It’s a childhood friendship, and those can form between very different personalities.”
“I met the late Doctor Padalecki once,” Morgan revealed without a drop of caution. “I liked him.”
Dunrea looked at his captain in surprise. “When?”
“It was during my walkabout days,” Jeff said. “Their hybrid child, Jensen, was kidnapped.”
“By whom? And why?”
“By Eben Noah, actually.”
Dunrea closed his eyes as his face spasmed in pain and regret. “So, it’s true. They did kill Joshua’s son.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Jeff said. “But they were adamant about getting the hybrid back. Paid a huge sum to make it happen, actually.”
“So, you met the artificial consort?” Dunrea looked interested. “What’s he like? I heard he’s very retiring.”
“I didn't interact with him so I couldn't tell you,” Jeff said. “He was unconscious when we rescued him, but I have to admit - the hybrid’s a masterpiece, even among his kind.”
“But I saw vids of the creature: he’s disfigured, isn’t he? I remember seeing scars, even facial discoloration.”
Jeff grinned widely enough to show crinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Freckles, they’re called freckles, Senator.”
“Really? I didn’t know there was a word for the medical condition.”
Jeff’s grin got bigger. Due to cosmetic advancement, such discolorations and unsightly blemishes were eradicated long ago.
“It used to be very common,” Jeff explained. “But, yes, the hybrid has such a condition. It’s not severe, and actually makes him look a bit more approachable. I’d imagine without such faults, Jensen Ackles might seem too inaccessible to humans.”
“I see,” Dunrea said. “Do you think he’ll attend?”
“Wherever Jared Padalecki goes: his hybrid follows. That might cause a problem.”
“Why? Does the doll have special needs?”
“No, I fear that any slight against his consort will be felt by Padalecki. And the situation is volatile enough already without adding that particular problem.”
“Do you honestly believe the colonists will want their do … hybrids to be declared autonomous beings?”
“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jeff answered. “They don’t see them the way you do. To them these creatures are equals in every manner. And should they want such evocation on behalf of their hybrids: I can’t see how we can refuse.”
“It would be a very sticky matter,” Dunrea said, considering the number of dolls owned by the rich and the powerful who would abhor the idea of their toys being suddenly declared free beings. “But I guess that’s why theirs live so much longer than ours.”
“Any news as to how long it will take Beaver to replace the malfunctioning parts?” Jeff asked.
Dunrea quirked an eyebrow. “Why? Are you thinking about acquiring one?”
“Of course not,” Jeff said. “But I’ve been getting steady complaints from my men who do own one of the recalls. They’re not too happy right now, and unhappy soldiers make for sloppy ones.”
“From what I understand, it’s the entire cortical complex that needs to be replaced. Otherwise, the dol … hybrids would not last any longer than the initial date on the contract.”
“So, I guess I better tell my men to just to sit tight and wait patiently,” Jeff groused. “This is another function of my job I detest.”
“Regret donning your cap again?”
Jeff looked at the flat-brimmed hat sitting in his hands: the red and white waves denoting his rank. “No, but I have to admit I was surprised to hear you wanted me to return. Especially after the way I left your unit.”
“Nonsense,” Dunrea said. “Jeff, you were angry - we all were. The way the war began, the way it ended. It was all a bloody mess. I was only grateful to find out that you survived.”
“You do know that I fought for the colonial side, right?”
“Yes, I am aware,” Dunrea said dryly. “But you did it for the right reasons. And the fact that I asked you to re-enlist should tell you how much I respected your decision.”
“The funny thing is I haven’t returned to Ogden,” Jeff said. “Ever since the war ended. I thought I did it all so I could go home with my head held high.
“But I can’t. Even after so long … I can’t.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Dunrea said. “I didn’t know. Maybe after this meeting, you will be able to start your journey back home.”
“Do you think it will go well?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Dunrea confessed. “But I fear more of what is ahead if we do not.”
Jeff pulled out his personal comm and spread the four corners until its screen dominated most of the small breakfast table. “Nerum is going to be almost impossible to secure. The area they had chosen as the meeting site used to be its capital.”
“Asaph was a beautiful city,” Dunrea recollected with sadness. “I visited it twice in my youth: its natural beauty struck me as ethereal. And the people there were just as gentle and kind as I was told they would be.”
“What happened to them?”
“Exile for those who survived the incursion,” Dunrea answered. “They were driven out of their homes without warning, so they were able to pack only what they could grab at a moment's notice. Most of them were reduced to paupers when they arrived at the refugee camps. They died longing for their home.”
“Save for the Everhauers.”
“Yes, they were the exception,” Dunrea said. “But it was because they were off-world when the Lament occurred. Lady Grace Everhauer was a famous artist in her youth, and she and her husband were touring with her latest exhibit when their homeworld was destroyed.”
“I can’t determine if they were lucky or damned.”
“Probably both to varying degrees,” Dunrea said. “It is rather poetic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know anything about poets, but I do know you chose a nightmare for this summit.
"General, are you sure you want Nerum?”
“It’s a symbolic gesture, Jeff, but a powerful one. Don’t underestimate people’s love of symbols. Besides, if anyone wants to know what the end result of a war looks like - all they have to do is take a look outside. They’ll have an eyeful of what could be ahead for all of us if we decide to take up arms instead.”
“All right, I can see the attraction,” Jeff relented with grudging admiration. “But it’s still pretty much impossible for us to build a defensible position.”
“Whatever gaps you have, they will fill,” Dunrea said. “No offense, but the colonials will have better luck arranging security in that terrain.”
“What makes you think they’ll be honest?”
“I don’t trust them per se, but I do trust Jared Padalecki,” Dunrea answered. “And the colonials will do nothing to embarrass him, and they will most certainly do nothing to jeopardize his safety.”
“You don’t think for a moment they’ll try to kill you even if it means they will end up killing him?”
Dunrea shook his head emphatically. “No. After his father’s death, Jared has become the undeclared heir to his legacy. And most of the whispers I’m hearing tell me they are expecting great things from the second son.”
“So, he’s going to continue his father’s good work?”
“Yes, and more importantly, the colonials need his ingenuity. You have to understand, he’s producing results just like his father. And I believe the colonials fully expect him to fulfill his father’s vision for them.”
“Don’t you wonder what kind of world that might be?”
“No, not at all,” Dunrea answered. “Whatever the answer, it’s not important to the summit: do you understand?”
“Sir, for these people, their past influences their behavior very, very much. They’re not like us. And the quicker you understand that fact, the faster you’ll see this summit is going to cause a lot of problems. Maybe even more than any good that might come out of it.”
“We have to take that risk,” Dunrea said. “Unless you wish to train another generation of recruits to go to another war just like you did when you were little more than a boy.”
Jeff deflated. “Of course, I understand.”
“I knew you would,” Dunrea reached over and grasped Jeff’s arm. “Make sure this summit goes through.”
“I will, sir.”
Jeff left the breakfast table with its drinks cooling in the morning air. He made his way to the bottom of the hill abutting the mansion and entered a small doorway cleverly hidden from view.
There were many corridors branching off from the entrance but there was only one that interested the lieutenant. He passed through various checkpoints, not once stopping for the security system manning the underground bunker, which recognized him the moment he entered through the main door.
He hit a large hall, Spartan in decoration but luxurious in what little there was. Jeff saw his second-in-command writing a private letter on his comm. He looked very invested in whatever it was, but Jeff knew better.
Chris had already identified his superior the moment his sharp hearing caught Jeff’s footsteps as he walked down the hall. And was probably notified by the security system since Chris hacked into it in order to inject a code that would allow him to access it whenever he wished.
“How did the meeting go?” Chris asked. “Did the good General ask for the moon and the stars?”
“Worse, he wants the meeting to go off without a problem."
“That’s not going to happen,” Chris said. “How can Dunrea expect it to go smoothly? People are dead. The Padaleckis’ assassination has been playing in an unending loop amongst the colonial vid networks.”
“Dunrea has to believe that peace is possible,” Jeff said. “Otherwise, the Senate will be responsible for the war that is looming on the horizon.”
“He thinks they’ll be blamed? What about Noah?”
“Noah’s dead: the people will want live targets and the Senate will do just as nicely.” Jeff looked around before asking, “Where’s Steve?”
“You’re not going to believe this but Steve found something during his research in the Archives,” Chris answered. “It’s called ‘sausage’: sounds appetizing, doesn’t it?”
“And what might that be?” Jeff asked, genuinely curious.
Chris handed over his personal comm. “It isn’t a joke: people actually ate this stuff.”
Jeff read the small passage, his eyes growing wider. “Well, during times of famine I guess people had to make do with whatever was around.”
“Not at all,” Chris said with malicious gleefulness. “This was considered normal foodstuff, even a delicacy in certain cultures.”
“I’ll be the first to admit I’ve gotten desperate but never that bad.” Jeff tossed the comm back to Chris. “Personally, I think it’s incomprehensible, but whatever. So, what is Steve exactly doing?”
“Trying to recreate this ‘sausage’ thing.”
“That’s not possible,” Jeff countered. “Half of the ingredients aren’t available and the other half’s illegal.”
“Wouldn’t stop Steve,” Chris said with a knowing grin. “If it’s not bad maybe I’ll save you some.”
“I’d rather chew the grass I just trampled on,” Jeff said. “Did you finalize the list?”
“Yeah, the records are sitting on your desk,” Chris answered. “Counting me and Steve, we’re going to need four men on planet-side, and that’s not including the pilots.”
“I’ve already chosen the pilots: Samson and Tang.”
“Good men,” Chris readily agreed. “They can take the pressure.”
“You heard about what happened to Samson in St. Helen?”
Chris nodded. “I’ve got one word for that mess: gruesome.”
“Then you know how he’ll react,” Jeff said.
“Sounds like a good choice.”
Jeff heard some clatter and turned just in time to see Steve enter the room, his grey uniform half-doused in blood, but that didn’t present half the bizarre sight as a clump of bags he was carrying: some of which were translucent enough to reveal their dubious contents.
“I got lucky,” Steve said breathlessly. “I found someone who had what I needed.”
“Lucky?” Jeff managed to croak out. “That’s debatable from where I’m standing.”
Steve shrugged and rushed out of the room, heading towards the mess.
Chris watched the dripping bags leave a trail of blood and mucus and something else unidentifiable. “I’m not cleaning that up.”
“I’ll send someone,” Jeff said, looking slightly queasy at the aftermath.
Chris gave a nod of approval and sank deeper into his bed, his attention riveted back to whatever he was writing before Jeff interrupted him.
Jeff went to his small but private room and sat on his anti-grav chair. He closed his eyes as the personal massager and heater turned on, their settings already notched to his preference.
I have to finalize soon, because things are going to happen very quickly. No matter what Dunrea actually believes, I must succeed. Otherwise, there will be endless war.
And that can’t happen. Must not happen.
Air Space above Nerum
Hardeol System
Jared stood still, watching the stars come into focus as the cruiser came out of travel speed. He felt the initial jolt when the ship’s main engines shut down, then the soothing hum when the weaker second engine took over as the cruiser started approaching Nerum and her gravity pull.
Jensen entered the observatory room and approached Jared until he was standing next to solemn man. “It used to be blue,” he said.
“I saw the archives," Jared said. "Ninety-two percent of this planet was covered in water. Fresh water, not salt, but water nonetheless.
“No wonder the Everhauers loved it so much.”
“Most of their cities were built on water,” Jensen said softly. “And the main mode of transportation used to be boats. People used old-fashioned sails to steer them.”
“That must have been beautiful to see,” Jared said, eyes softening as he imagined the vista. But the happy moment didn’t last long. The barren thing that was now Nerum was a grim reminder of what happened when anyone decided to go against the wishes of the various corporate entities and private syndicates that held tight-fisted control over the governing powers.
Jensen, sensing his darkening mood, gently clasped Jared’s hands with his. He placed a light kiss on the shoulder and said, “We must do this.”
“I know,” Jared said. "But I can’t help but feel we’re walking into a trap.”
“It is a trap,” Jensen said. “But the question is whose it is: ours or theirs?”
“You trust Chad, then?”
“I wouldn’t trust Chad with a bowl of poisonous twigs,” Jensen said. “But that’s because he’s a glutton. However, when it comes to his ego - Chad is most certainly trustworthy. He won’t let anything damage his pride, and his pride hangs on this meeting ending peacefully.
“Whether there will be any resolution is another matter altogether, of course.”
“Of course,” Jared echoed dryly. “Do you know who Chad hired as security?”
“He wouldn't tell me,” Jensen answered, sounding miffed. “But Chad trusts the man, so I do. Besides, I have no … connection with that world, Jared. I wouldn’t know who would be a trustworthy mercenary and who’s not.”
Jared grinned. “That’s true.”
“Why are you smiling?” Jensen looked at Jared. “You’re the one who bought that atrocious rug from the merchant who claimed it was a genuine relic from the Holy Land.”
“It passed the screening!” Jared protested.
“Of course it did,” Jensen replied. “He corrupted the database so all his wares would pass screening. An apple would’ve passed screening as the Chalice of Eosphorus.”
Jared smiled, but it soon disappeared when Nerum caught his attention once more. “So, we’re about to hold a meeting on a dead planet, with a group who’d likely to kill us as to make peace, and protected by people we’ve never met.”
“How could it possibly go wrong?”
Jared felt a little better at Jensen’s serene and supremely sarcastic conclusion. The two men continued to study Nerum until the pilot personally told them the shuttles were ready.
Jensen studiously ignored the man’s surreptitious glances of his features and followed Jared without hesitation but two steps behind, as Jensen was well aware of outsiders’ perception of his position in Jared’s life.
However, he was too busy with helping Jared that little slights, political or social, rarely affected him anymore.
Not that they had any real power over him, but when it became clear that Jared wasn’t going to marry a PBE-cleared female, the social pressures on Jensen became unmanageable. He withdrew from society and focused instead on helping Jared who was too busy to notice at the time. So, when Sandy came up with the idea of carrying Jared’s child, Jensen couldn’t help but feel greatly relieved.
Sabine went a long way to ease the tension between Jensen and Praides’ noble society of which Jared was a reluctant member. And after the Sabine was declared a healthy child, Jensen slowly began showing up once more by Jared’s side on various social occasions, mainly because his name also started reappearing on the invitations.
Jensen fervently hoped that Jared and Sandy would have a second child. That way, Jared’s unspoken social obligation would be paid in full, and they could live out the rest of their lives in peace. Or as much as possible with Jared being who he was, and his position of immeasurable power in the Pickler System.
The shuttle began slicing through Nerum’s airspace but halted for a moment as the pilot pointed out Dunrea’s cruiser. Jensen sourly noted even in space, opulence and grandeur was not impossible.
Jared sighed a little and leaned back into the sparse seat. “I wonder what they’re thinking right now.”
“Whether it’s possible to rehabilitate Nerum and make profit from it?”
Jensen’s cynical retort only elicited a smile from Jared who turned to study him. “I had no idea you could also read my mind.”
Jensen waited until the shuttle landed before answering, “It’s not too hard to see what the High Council would want to do with a place like Nerum. There may not be any water, but that can be corrected, and within few years this planet may be habitable again.
“Especially if you consider the fact that the buildings were left intact.”
“I’d be genuinely upset if they did that,” Jared said.
Nerum, a member of the original earth’s charter, was quite sympathetic to the plight of the mining planets to the point their position in the Senate was being actively undermined. This later allowed Council Leader Barnes to order the forced exodus of Nerumens from their homes.
When they stepped off the shuttle, the scene that greeted them was grim yet beautiful. Tall, thin buildings spiraled into the blackened sky. Though the dust and rain of ashes had ceased long before, the sun was still hidden by constant cloud cover.
“This is a grave,” Jared said after he finished looking around. “The largest grave we’ll ever see, hopefully.”
“Dunrea knew what he was doing when he chose Nerum,” Jensen said. “It’s a very good reminder of what will happen should we fail to reach some agreement.”
“I wonder how much of an impact this will have on them,” Jared said.
“As much as their imagination will allow, I think.”
They saw a man exit a dome and approach them. “Looks like militia.”
As the stranger got closer, Jensen frowned; he couldn’t recognize the man but the familiarity he was feeling was alarming. And the stranger exhibited little hesitation when he spotted them.
He extended his hand in the traditional greeting. “My name is Jeffrey Morgan.”
Jared stiffened visibly before whirling towards Jensen who looked at both men with confusion.
“I’m sorry - have we met before?” Jensen asked.
“This is the man who saved you from the pirates,” Jared explained.
“Oh, your father told you about me?” Jeff looked genuinely taken back. “I didn’t think he would.”
“I … pestered him until he did,” Jared admitted reluctantly. “But I want to personally thank you for what you did for all of us.”
“I wish I could accept your gratitude, but I can’t,” Jeff said. “I was just … I was a merc back then, do you understand? And your father paid very generously. But I have to admit, it felt nice to do something right and get paid,” Jeff looked at Jensen and his face softened. “You look much better. Not that that should be a surprise to me. But you also aged.”
“We do that,” Jensen said. “We being hybrid children.”
“No, but that’s not what I usually … see,” Jeff confessed. “The hybrids I’ve seen get old to a certain age but tends to stay young. You, on the other hand, are the same age as … as your … I’m sorry, I was about to say owner.”
Jensen shook his head. “No need to apologize. May I ask - are you without rank? Because if you work for Dunrea, then I believe you aren’t just a civilian.”
“I’m not,” Jeff said. “Dunrea was my commanding officer during the Conflict: when I worked for the Central Planets. I switched sides after my first tour and went over to the colonials.”
“And Dunrea didn’t hold it against you?” Jared asked, shocked by the revelation.
“He had no say, I left my unit without a word,” Jeff answered. “I was floored when Dunrea reached me. I had no idea how he found me.”
“The man’s connections are far and wide,” Jared said. “Look at the fact that we are here, in Nerum.”
“True,” Jeff said. “I was wondering if you know what happened to your security team?”
“They’ve landed some time ago,” Jared answered. “I’ve gotten word that they’ve secured their location.”
“Any chance I’ll meet them? Because I am head of security for Dunrea and we need to discuss a few things.”
“I’ll see to it that our representative meet with you as soon as possible,” Jensen replied, earning a hard look from Jeff.
“Well, then, follow me,” Jeff said.
The two men walked few steps behind Jeff who didn’t look back to see if they would do as he asked. The lieutenant led them into the dome and into a section clearly marked off for personal usage.
“What was this place?” Jared asked. “Our information was spotty.”
“It was a temple,” Jeff answered, “dedicated to a goddess named Heth.”
“Heth,” Jensen said. “The goddess of life and childbirth. It was a small faction, very closely tied with the medical sector. She was a combination of various female deities from Original Earth.”
“Mostly female worshippers?” Jared guessed, studying the walls and the many decorative carvings.
Jensen nodded. “They weren’t very widespread even at their height of popularity; from what I understand, small pockets still practice in the outer colonies where medical ships don’t reach on usual basis.”
“Not surprising,” Jeff said. “But goddess of childbirth? That part I haven’t heard of.”
“Not an idea that would be well received,” Jensen said, “if you consider the laws regarding childbirth.”
“You think settlers on the outer systems are having children against regulations?” Jeff asked.
“What do you think?” Jensen asked.
“If I had a wife and she wanted a child, I’d laugh at whoever told me I couldn’t have a baby: not after what I paid to be considered a ‘citizen’.”
Jensen gave a small nod of understanding: silent, elegant, but telling.
Jeff studied Jensen as the consort traced a carving with his fingers. “You admire it?”
Jensen smiled. “You mean do I have the capacity to appreciate art in its purest form?”
“Something like that.”
“Yes, I do,” Jensen answered. “I can appreciate a thing of beauty like any human being. It’s not hard, actually.”
Jeff pointed to a hallway to his left and said, “Everything’s arranged for you in there. If you need anything else, the comm system will link you directly to me.”
Hard footsteps tore their attention from each other. They turned in unison to see a man enter the temple. He was tall, and just as broad as Jared - perhaps even more athletic. And his stance, his walk, all spoke of harsh training and a life-long tradition in the martial field.
“Identify yourself,” Jeff said.
“Name’s Justin,” the stranger said. “I’m head of security for Dr. Padalecki’s contingent.”
“You have something to back that up besides your tongue?” Jeff challenged without malice.
Justin turned to Jared and handed over a stack of write-sheets: a thin, encrypted pad designed to resemble ancient paper but with enough hardware to be its own server.
Jared read through the stack and said, “He’s legitimate. By the way, this is Sergeant Justin Hartley.”
“May I?” Jeff asked.
Jared handed four out of seven of the write-sheets and pocketed the rest. Jeff raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He scanned through the sheets and frowned.
“How long have you been here?”
“We arrived three days before you did,” Justin answered. “We’ve watched you set up base camp. Looks like you brought a lot of luxuries for a simple two-day summit.”
“The Senators like their comforts,” Jeff said. “Where are you camped now?”
“Up on the ridge,” Justin said, pointing out a window and to the highest hill on the horizon. “We’re packing up now. You should expect us by sunset.”
“How did you get up there without leaving trails?” Jeff asked. “We scanned the airspace but there wasn’t any trace of ship ionization.”
“We terra-jumped,” Justin said.
Jared looked at him in shock. “What?”
Even Jeff was rendered speechless by Justin’s explanation. Terra-jumping was banned outright by the High Council only few years after its debut. Soldiers were equipped with suits that allowed them to jump from ship while it was still in space. This made it possible for the terra-jumpers to enter the planet’s airspace without leaving ionization trails like shuttles would. However, the failure rate of the suits was extreme: so extreme that the military asked the program to be scrapped.
As this type of request hardly ever appeared, the High Council agreed and banned terra-jumping. Not even in the last Conflict was the practice allowed by either side.
“Where did you learn to terra-jump?” Jensen asked.
“On Moiren IV where I grew up,” Justin said, facing beaming in pride. “It’s a sport there.”
“Are you serious?” Jeff looked at the young soldier. “A sport?!”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and we’ve developed gear to make it safer … relatively, that is.”
“It must be incredibly dull on Moiren IV,” Jared said dryly.
“The fact that we took to terra-jumping as a form of entertainment should tell you how boring it is,” Justin said. “So, any other questions?”
“Please check in with me when you arrive, and that goes for all your men,” Jeff said. “We need a head count. That way we don’t kill any of your people by accident.”
“Will keep that in mind,” Justin said.
Jared looked up at the ridge that Justin pointed. “That’s pretty far, how are you going to get up there?”
“I modified a pack from terra-jumping,” Justin explained. “It eats up a lot of energy but allows me to move quickly.”
“That can’t be good for your bones,” Jensen said as he mentally calculated the pressure against Justin’s frame if he traveled above-recommended speed.
“So is terra-jumping,” Justin said. “My men and I will be here, soon.”
Jeff gave a smirk and left them, obviously busy with his own schedule. Justin waited until he couldn’t hear the captain’s footsteps before approaching them.
“I don’t know if Governor Murray told you, but never take off your transmitters,” Justin cautioned his charge.
Both Jared and Jensen glanced down at the rings on their fingers. To any casual observer the jewelry resembled commitment bands.
“If anything happens, we’ll know,” Justin said. “It’s tagged with your genetic signature, so any fluctuations will raise an alarm.”
“Considering what this meeting’s about, wouldn’t that set off the alarm every five minutes?” Jared asked humorously.
“We’ve calculated stress levels also,” Justin said. “Also, there’s a safe word you can use as a trigger: Christmas.”
“What’s … Criss-mas?” Jared asked, confused. He looked at Jensen who shrugged in ignorance.
“C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s. An amalgamation of ancient holidays, mainly celebrated by Christians of Original Earth,” Justin answered. “It carried for a while when humans achieved space travel, but died because of lack of cohesive faith structure when families were initially isolated during deep space exploration and mining. Some of its traditions could be found in Festival of Lights.”
“Like candles and such?” Jared asked.
“Yes, the single candle by the window is from the ancient tradition,” Justin said.
“But how are we suppose to incorporate that word in a sentence and not get noticed?” Jensen asked. “It’s a very strange term to use.”
“Christmas was also famed for the gift-giving part of the celebration,” Justin replied. “People used to give presents during this particular holiday.”
Jared looked at Jensen. “I think we could find a way to wedge the word in if we need to.”
“Christmas?” Jensen said softly, rolling the word with his tongue. “What a fascinating tradition.”
“I will check in with you first when my men and I arrive,” Justin said.
“You know they probably tagged you the moment they were alerted to your presence,” Jared said.
“And I’ve got a scrambler to make them very unhappy,” Justin replied with a roguish smile. “I’m not here to make friends or impress people. I’m here to make sure everyone on your team stay safe and exit alive.”
“Sounds like a respectable plan to me,” Jared said. “Go get your men before Morgan becomes angrier.”
Justin gave a snappy salute then exited the building, looking all of eighteen in spite of his demeanor and bulk.
“Do you know anything about him?” Jensen asked.
“No,” Jared answered. “Chad told me next to nothing because he didn’t want the security team compromised. But he did tell me one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“That the security leader would use the word ‘Christmas’ in our first meeting.”
“Very clever,” Jensen said. “Very clever indeed.”
“I saw the look on your face: you were puzzled as to why we were having an in-depth discussion about such an arcane word.”
“I was, actually,” Jensen said. “But I thought it was one of your quirks.”
Jared leaned over and gave a light kiss on Jensen’s lips. “Thank you for your patience.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. He then looked at his right hand and examined the ring on his thumb. “It looks just like ours.”
“Chad probably had them custom-made,” Jared remarked as he studied his. “This is fine craftsmanship.”
Jensen wasn’t worried that Jared was talking so freely. Before they left Praides, Jared had created a type of scrambler that guaranteed them privacy whenever necessary. Jared had it embedded in his groin, guaranteeing that it would be overlooked if there were a full-body scan performed on his person.
Jensen was horrified by Jared’s idea. However, Jared convinced him that he was the safe choice. Since Jensen was a hybrid, Dunrea’s security team would know any signatures Jensen would create, and a single deviation would be more than enough for them to detain Jensen until the summit was over.
Of course, Jared had to ask Jensen to perform the minor surgical procedure. And, to his credit, Jensen performed it perfectly.
Jared had later joked that Jensen had to perform flawlessly, as he had vested interest in Jared’s nether parts. Jensen did not reply with his usual wit, but instead winced before hurrying out of the room under a flimsy excuse.
Jared decided wisely not to tease Jensen any further.
As he'd promised, Justin arrived with six men, one woman, all resembling their Sergeant with their athletic but lean build and sun-burnt blond hair. And though they gave due respect towards Jared, it was Jensen they were fascinated with. One of them, Abraham Bollmar, actually approached Jensen and engaged him in a conversation.
Jensen was agreeable enough, but when the question turned rather personal, he immediately put a stop to it. Jensen wasn’t offended: humans who had limited to no contact with hybrids had very little idea about their need for privacy and what constituted personal data. His refusal was politely given and was received with equanimity.
Bollmar returned to his compatriots and seemed to eagerly share whatever meager information he managed to eck out of Jensen.
Having gone through this cycle many times, Jensen dismissed them as a threat.
Jared invariably came to a different conclusion.
Most men were curious to meet Jensen: a hybrid who lived an open existence as Jared’s consort, and the main reason why he never married a woman. Their curiosity was mostly innocent, but there were always a few who were interested because they were attracted to Jensen.
Jensen learned how to deal with such offers but Jared had harder time. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found it especially hard when the men were from the militia. Maybe it was because of their frank appreciation of Jensen and all his attributes; maybe it was because they were uniformly in great shape and had a lifestyle that guaranteed their lovers relative safety and comfort. But whatever the reason, Jared couldn’t easily dismiss them as he could when the admirers were draped in ridiculous layers of silk and cotton.
Jensen continued to read his comm, typing in whatever came to mind as Jared talked with the men responsible for their safety.
Justin, as if sensing Jared’s discomfort, shortened the meeting and left with his unit.
Jared looked at Jensen and once more wondered why Jensen decided to age himself. As tactless as Jeff was earlier, he was correct about one thing: hybrids didn’t age much. They usually reached early adult years and remained so until they were deactivated or recycled.
Jared appreciated the fact that Jensen knew him well enough to realize that Jared would prefer him to continue as his ‘older’ consort. But he wondered what would happen as he continued to grow old.
Would Jensen follow suit? Would he, too, continue to be four years older?
Jared looked down at his worn hands. He hadn’t really taken care of himself. Though he lived a privileged existence, Jared did most of the necessary manual labor because he was wary of hiring a complete stranger to enter his rather insulated existence. The crowlines around his eyes were getting deeper every year, and he knew there were more than few gray strands now highlighting his hair. But, unlike other men of wealth in Praides, Jared did nothing to take care of these minor cosmetic details.
His hands were encompassed by Jensen’s. Jared noted they were as worn and lined as his was. With a tiny smile, he leaned down and kissing them.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jensen whispered. “That after you become old, I would somehow miraculously become younger and seek other men.”
He knows me so well. Better than I know myself. How many times have I wondered if that’s a good thing.
“Maybe,” Jared admitted. “Bollmar reminds me a lot of myself when I was young and able to beat you in a footrace.”
“Really?” Jensen’s tone was light and teasing. “Because he reminds me nothing of you. He’s taller, more handsome…”
Jared laughed. “The insults I put up with.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Jensen said. “Now, let’s stop with these ridiculous thoughts and focus on more important things.”
“Such as?”
“Why in sanity’s land Dunrea likes his tea cold,” Jensen muttered. “In fact, both Senators like their food as cold as possible.”
“It’s harder to poison cold food,” Jared answered. “With modern pharmaceuticals, that idea is completely passé, but the practice is still very popular.”
“Seems like too much of a sacrifice for so little benefit,” Jensen answered, frowning.
“Why are you worried about the temperature of Dunrea’s tea?”
“One of my duties is to oversee the kitchen,” Jensen said. “Personally, I think they were desperate to try and give me something to do so I would be unable to escort you to the summit itself.”
“Because you’ll be a detriment to the meeting?” Jared mulled over the idea. “But how?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Jensen said. “But my presence makes them uneasy for some reason.”
“I wonder if they received some intel that makes them behave in such a manner,” Jared said. “And, if so, who passed it to them.”
“Whatever they may think, I am not in the habit of being banished to the kitchen because some senator doesn’t like what he reads.”
Jared took serious account of Jensen’s anger about the duties he’d been relegated to and mentally noted to ensure Jensen’s presence was necessary in the meetings by any means. He didn’t know why the Senators wanted to segregate Jensen but Jared wasn’t going to bow down to their wishes. Because if they could successfully bully him in such an important matter, it would make for a bad precedent: one Jared dared not set.
Part I * Part III