Chapter Three
Tyr dropped his gaze from the high window and paced the small room quietly. "You must take pains not to behave so much...like yourself while we are here. The slaves here are absurdly quiet, subservient, and-"
"Well, no shit, Sherlock, they-"
"And you must NEVER raise your voice!" Tyr warned. "Some of the whites have been put to death for that. They forgave you before because you were so ill." Tyr turned to look at Harper now, his eyes troubled. "Don't look anyone in the eye, except me and the other slaves. Don't speak to anyone except me and the other slaves, and then only when you're spoken to. And do not do anything unless I tell you."
"Why can't I-"
"Just shut up and do as I say, Harper." Tyr let out a heavy, shaky breath and leaned against one wall. "You've done more distasteful things before to survive, and you'll do it again."
Harper turned a little in his billowy pallet and tugged at his pillow. Tyr was right. Harper would just have liked to have forgotten about it.
"You will not try to escape again," Tyr said. "I thought taking your clothes away would stop you after the first time, but I seemed to have forgotten how stubborn you are," There was a hint of joviality in Tyr's tone. Harper allowed himself a small smile.
"Where are my clothes now?" He asked, quietly.
"They were...soiled beyond use."
"Oh."
They remained silent for a little while, Tyr staring at one wall, Harper staring at his pillow. Then Tyr said: "You have to understand this is a burden for me, as well." His voice was soft. Harper looked up at him with interest. "The Kodiak did not own slaves. We had kludges do our labour sometimes, yes, and it was harsh- but we did not keep a title on them. We'd let them have families, they were free to go if they had a place to go to. A true Alpha does not...need...a slave." There was pure disgust evident in Tyr's voice. "The men downstairs make me...they make me want to be ill."
"I'm...sorry," Harper said softly, fingering the pristine white sheets a little.
"I must go," Tyr said. "They think I am a General, and an honoured guest. We must keep up the facade until you are well enough to travel- then we'll get the hell out of here and figure out a way to get back into space." Tyr paused at the door. "After that, if you wish to go look for your fallen comrades, I'll not stop you."
It was the smallest little offer of comfort, a reinforcement that Tyr did not take any of this personally, a reminder that if, in the future, he were beaten again- Tyr didn't mean it.
"Thanks," Harper said.
"I will have someone bring you another meal. Then you will go back to sleep. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
Tyr raised an eyebrow and waited.
"Yesss...s-sir," Harper forced it out of himself.
It was a start.
Tyr smiled his approval briefly, and then disappeared into white on white.
--
It was beginning to darken outside. Harper lay in his pallet for about ten minutes, staring up at the ceiling and the high, open window, watching the light on the ceiling and the opposite wall change and dimmer.
He had just about nodded off, managing to forget about the tightening in his otherwise upset stomach, when the door opened softly and the girl from before entered, carrying a similar tray to the one before.
"Well," She said, and he did notice a faint accent in her voice, but he couldn't place it. "His Highness is awake."
Harper scowled a little, but tried not to let his annoyance show too much. The girl entered the room, her little white feet almost silent on the stone floor, and set the tray down by Harper's pallet. There was another bowl of soup that didn't look particularly attractive, some bread, something that looked like cheese, and a glass of what could have been water. The girl produced a spoon and set it on the side of the tray. There was also what looked like a little cake, small and round, on the end.
"Thank you," Harper said softly.
She looked up at him, startled. "What?"
"Thank you," He said again. "For...bringing me this. I don't like being a hassle."
"It's not a hassle," She shrugged. "It's not like I'd be doing anything better."
Harper struggled to get into a seating position, up against one wall. The girl lifted the tray and placed it on his lap. "Did you make this?" He asked, feeling weird about to eat while she sat on his floor, staring up at him from under painfully straight and clean black hair.
"No," She said. "It was leftovers. Except the little piece of cake. They're serving it downstairs and your master asked me to bring you some."
"He did?"
The girl nodded unsmilingly, her unattractive puke green eyes boring a hole into him. "There was more, but...I sort of ate it."
Harper smiled faintly, his head still aching a little. "That's okay," He said, knowing that if he were in her place, he probably wouldn't have served the food at all.
"Your master is very kind," She said, wistfully.
"I...guess so."
"He's not like the men here," Harper tensed up a bit. "He's so much taller, and stronger. Cunning."
Harper stared at her and wondered what the hell was wrong with this planet. "What's your name?" He tried to change the subject.
"Panga," She replied, casually. "What's yours?"
"Harper," he said, and added, before thinking: "Seamus Harper."
"You have two names?"
"Yeah."
"Which one do I use?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do I call you Zaymus or do I call you Harper?" Her accent twisted his name and Harper could barely recognize it.
"You could call me either, I guess. Most of my friends call me Harper."
"What does your master call you?"
"Boy."
She smiled at this. "I'll call you Zaymus. I like that."
Harper was too tired and hungry to care either way. "Okay," He said, after taking a spoonful of soup, which wasn't as bad as he remembered it.
"...My mistress really likes your master as well."
Huh.
"Who's your mistress?" Harper had eaten almost all of the cheese on the bread. He was holding it down pretty good, considering.
"I work for one of Okasha's sisters, Lady Geeia."
"Work for?"
Panga only looked at him. "You broke your leg," She said, dropping the gaze of her ugly green eyes.
"Yeah," Harper's voice was a little bitter. "I was trying to get out to see the ocean,"
Panga smiled again, and there was laughter in her accented voice. "You were trying to escape," She disputed. "You've done it before. You shouldn't, you'll never get out of here if they don't want you to leave."
Harper shrugged and finished off his soup, looking suspiciously at his water. "If I don't try, what good am I?"
Panga cocked her head and looked up at him again.
Harper sniffed at the water a bit. It smelt a little metallic, a little like silver. He took an experimental sip. Tasted like water. Not particularly clean water, but he wasn't complaining. He had drunk water from here before- but Tyr had brought him that.
Oh, well. He drank it.
"You're dangerous," Panga said softly when she took the glass from him, and picked up his tray.
"What do you mean?" Harper asked, suppressing a yawn. His room had darkened quickly.
"Well, if I'm right..." Panga stood in the doorway a little while longer, not looking at him. "We'll see what I mean." She gave him one last little smile, half comforting, half mocking, and left him alone to sleep.
--
Harper had a nightmare that night.
It was a jumbled conglomeration of vague memories and cartoonish super horror, if Harper had been paying close enough attention.
First, he was back on Earth, back in suburban Boston, and in his dream he was too stoned to think or act clearly. He huddled in a sewer tunnel, the one where he always went when...
In his hands was a plastic bag full of industrial glue solvent that he held giddily to his mouth and nose, breathing in the burning fumes and feeling it split open the tiny tears in the back of his throat. He had a pretty good drip going on, and his eyes watered and he smiled, shaking ever so slightly, at the ray of light shooting through the manhole to the opposite side of him.
He was eight. The sewer tunnel was in Quincy, on the coast of what was once a nation, alongside what was once an ocean.
In the sewers were hot water pipes, still in use for the factories and the homes of the Nietzscheans deemed low enough to live on Earth with the kludges. Over two of these pipes was a pile of old rags and several young humans, including Harper's father, who was only twenty-one, huddled upon.
Harper looked at the snoring mass and smiled queasily. He struggled to his feet; the plastic bag in his hand deflated a little bit and some of the industrial solvent slipped out and burned his delicate little fingers. He didn't care.
He didn't know where he was going as he traipsed down the messy corridor, swinging his acidic little bag in front of him, singing a tuneless, off-key diddy. He heard laughter behind him, but was too stoned to care.
Then they were on him. And Harper screamed and kicked and they yelled back and no one tried to help him, and he was too stoned to wonder why.
Then he was lying on the floor of the Maru, face down, feeling like he'd just drank his weight in vodka, and possibly his weight again in gin.
He looked up, the world spinning, and Trance, his old, original, purple princess Trance, was standing before him, smiling gently.
"Pay attention." She said.
"Wuh?"
"You got high, didn't you?"
"Drunk, maybe. High? ...Maybe."
"Clear your head." She smiled again, a little sadder this time. "Pay attention."
Then there was pain, and blinding lights, and screaming, and fire, and things falling out of the sky like a biblical plague.
Then Harper woke up with a violent struggle in the billowy white pallet, Tyr standing over him looking like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Tyr?" Harper said, nervously, his voice small and frail. He shook a little, sweating, the images of that of which he was not quite sure he wanted to know still fresh in his mind's eye, along with dark shadows lurking in the Quincy sewers- stop it!
Tyr visibly flinched when Harper twitched, which made the boy even more nervous.
"It was just a dream, Tyr," Harper smiled weakly. "Got lots of those. I'm not sicker or nothing."
Tyr nodded, solemnly, his stony face hiding the softness in his dark eyes. He moved forward slightly. The sunlight shooting in through the high window lit the white wall ablaze, making Tyr seem darker than the eternal spotty walls of deep space. "Do you think you feel well enough to go outside?"
Harper hesitated, looking down at his bruised up self. "I don't know. Besides my leg.I guess so. You'd have to." He scowled and bit the inside of his cheek, too stubborn to say it out loud.
"Yes, I know," Tyr came to stand near Harper's pallet now, slinging a white garment over his shoulder. "If it helps you to recover faster, and thus improves our chances for getting back offworld, then I am not adverse to-"
"Fine!" Harper said, not unkindly, staring at the ceiling while Tyr un- manacled his good ankle. He didn't want to hear anything that reminded him of his present situation. Whatever the alternative may be.
Tyr took away some of the pristine white sheets slowly, carefully, with a gentleness that surprised Harper. They must get it from taking care of all those kids. He thought, and then scowled and wondered where the hell that thought came from.
He didn't resist when Tyr helped him to his feet, slowly, painfully, tactfully looking pointedly at the top of Harper's head. He let Harper steady himself across his chest and slipped the flimsy, simple white garment over the little human's head.
"Ugh," Harper said, without thinking, when the garment was finally on him.
"Indeed," Tyr agreed, the disgust evident in his voice as he secured the garment along Harper's slim back.
It was a simple tunic, made of something cottony and breathy and soft that felt good against Harper's bruised and sun burnt flesh. It fell to just above his knees, and the pure virgin whiteness of it made him even pastier in colour and look very vulnerable, blending in neatly with the white background. If he weren't so sun burnt he would have been invisible.
Maybe that's the point, Harper thought bitterly. Tyr was still tying the tunic in the back in such a way that Harper was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to get it off himself. Oh well. He'd just have to live the rest of his life without ever taking off this tunic. Better than being dressed by someone else.
Tyr helped him back to sit on the low, billowy pallet. Harper yawned and stretched, and several of his bones cracked wincingly, loudly, and Harper flinched. If Tyr noticed, he didn't respond, for which Harper was thankful. The boy looked up miserably as Tyr undid the straps on a pair of complicated looking sandals.
"You don't have to-"
"You want to try it yourself?" Tyr said, flippantly, holding out one of the sandals expectantly. Harper flushed furiously and looked away.
"Didn't think so," He thought he heard Tyr say, as the big Nietzschean knelt at Harper's feet.
It was a weird feeling, possibly weirder than anything Harper had experienced on this planet thus far. Tyr's big hands held Harper's relatively dainty left foot gently, easing it into the mould of the strappy softwood sandal kindly, his warmth emanating into Harper's morning-cold toes like sunlight on frost. The straps went up to Harper's knee, criss- crossing, the beige of the soft wood standing out against Harper's pale, bruised, and sun burnt skin. Harper tensed minutely, almost a shiver, at the feel of Tyr's arm against his sensitive calf. The Nietzschean didn't appear to notice it, but that, of course, was a lie.
Harper hissed, barely, when Tyr touched his right foot.
"Does it pain you?"
"Not really."
"The truth."
"A little. Ow!" Tyr slid the sandal over Harper's right foot, which was a little swollen, very quickly. Harper winced as he gently secured the straps over the aching flesh, and over the splint. It secured it nicely in place, as well.
Before he was done, Tyr's head lifted a fraction of an inch. Then he turned to look at the white on white doorway, and Harper cocked an eyebrow.
The door opened and a tall dark man leaned casually against the doorway. He wasn't nearly as tall or big as Tyr, but the engineered elegance of his costume spoke volumes. He was as black as the ocean night, at least, as black as ocean nights on Earth should have been.
"Representative Okasha," Tyr started, with a meticulously crafted casual air, not getting up.
"This was the last place I thought to look," The other man said jovially, smiling. He had a small goatee and kind dark eyes. "I never though that such a feared war commander like yourself could be such a gentle master."
"That's." Tyr seemed to be measuring his words, as he stood up slowly. "Kind of you to say." The big Nietzschean looked down at Harper and nudged the boy's good leg with his foot ever so slightly. Harper realized he had been staring at Okasha's face. He bit his lip hurriedly and dropped his gaze to his swollen foot.
Harper would swear to the Divine he heard Okasha chuckling. Chuckling! He scowled at the floor and tried not to flush.
"So this is Zaymus," The local aristocrat said, not unkindly. "He must have slept like a baby after yesterday's.excursion."
Oh, you can go and fuck right off, Harper thought cruelly.
"Does he say hello?" Okasha went on, like a bemused uncle.
"He's shy," Tyr said quickly, his hand brushing up against Harper's cheek slightly.
You bastard.
"Lim tells me he is always hungry," Okasha went on, stepping into the room a little bit.
Harper made a face and forgot to keep staring at the floor. Who the hell was Lim?
As if on cue, a teenaged boy as pale as a cloud, with raven black hair that flopped playfully into his eyes, stepped into the room, smiling. He was carrying a simple porcelain tray and Harper wondered fleetingly where Panga was.
"You are an extremely kind Master, General," Okasha went on, like it was some great joke. "He is dreadfully spoiled." He chuckled again when Harper realized he had been staring up at the man's face.
"I am...not without my weaknesses," Tyr managed to make it sound like he had a sweet tooth for chocolate.
"Oh, come on, Tyr, you don't have to proove anything to me." Okasha laughed outright at the stony expression on Tyr's face. "It couldn't kill you to smile, you know. After your little one is done his breakfast, Lord Amasai would like a word with us. Come outside with me and have some tobacco, leave the boys to their gossip. They are not without their lives, you know." Okasha was still chuckling irritatingly as he led Tyr out to the stucco white terrace. As he left, Tyr threw a glance over his shoulder at Harper that warned of volumes of pain should any cover be blown.
The door closed to white on white and Harper could still hear the Representative's good natured laughing.
As soon as the door closed, Lim's body transformed and he slouched, leaning against one wall.
"So you're Zay," he said with a smile, as good natured as his master.
"Yeah..."
"I'm Lim."
"So I see." Harper said, irritably. He stared down at the tray Lim had dumped on his lap, trying to shift his aching legs without upsetting the same drab soup and cup of water. "It's the same as last night," He said dejectedly, his voice low.
"Well, dur," Lim said, picking at his nails impatiently. "Leftovers. Sor- ry, your royal fucking highness," Then he flashed a white smile and Harper knew it was in jest.
Harper smiled back, weakly, and dipped some of the stale bread into the putrid green broth.
"That's pretty fucking sweet, what you did, yesterday." Lim went on like he was discussing the weather. "We were all watching from the kitchens. The way you just walked out of there."
"You told on me?" Harper wasn't angry, really, his situation was surreal enough that he couldn't be.
"I didn't," Lim scoffed distastefully. "Aza, one of the cooks, she did. She's old, though. You can't blame her."
"How old are you?" Harper asked, for curiosity's sake.
Lim stood up off the wall proudly. "I'll be sixteen in a month. I think." He shrugged. "Sometime next month. Around sixteen. Anyway." He flicked floppy black hair out of his eyes. "By then I'll be able to go with my master back home. He always said it was too dangerous before."
Harper ruffled his brow. "Why?"
Lim shrugged. "Master represents one of the...poorer districts here." He said slowly. "He says that there aren't many whites there, because the people are too poor to take care of us. I'm a luxury, he says," Lim smiled proudly at that, too. "In fact, a lot of the work that the industry in his district is based on is labour that, normally, a slave would do. But actual people have to do it, 'cause they're so poor. You know, black people." Harper blinked. Lim didn't notice. "So I've never left this compound."
"So...what do you do all the time?"
"Oh, I'm supposed to help out with the kitchen staff. Usually me 'n Panga just fuck around." Harper blinked again, but he kept staring at his rapidly diminishing soup. For such crappy soup, he sure did eat it quickly. "Master has lots of other help, at his home, but he doesn't have any valets but me, and he wouldn't let me travel with him like you and the General." Lim leaned his head to the side a bit. "Does the General have lots of other slaves? At his home?"
"Uh...no."
Lim smiled lasciviciously. "Not even girls?"
"He has-" Harper bit the inside of his cheek, stopping himself. "You know, I'm still really sick and hurt and...I'm not even sure I can remember where home is."
Lim's dark, almost feminine eyes widened. "Ooh...fuck, Zay, you're in it bad!"
"What?"
"I would die if I were like that. Seriously. I would." Harper suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Lim was as melodramatic as teenagers anywhere.
"I'm fine, Lim," He said firmly. "I'm just...confused right now. Could you help me?"
"With what?"
"Where are we?"
Lim rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. We're in Lord Amasai's summer home. On the coast."
Harper's eyes glowed. "Near the ocean?"
"Of course, dumbass."
"Have you seen the ocean?"
Lim rolled his eyes again. "No," He said sarcastically. "Never."
Harper scowled. "You're not helping!"
"'Course I've seen the ocean. We have bonfires down there, every month. We...oh. You're from the mountains, aren't you?"
"Ye...yes?"
"Right. Okay. Yeah, I'll take you to the beach when you're better, if your master lets you. To a bonfire. If you promise to show me the mountains one day."
"I can't-"
"Well," Lim shrugged. "My master likes your master. Probably after you've gone home, and after I've had my birthday, we'll come and visit you. And you can show me around." Lim smiled, and Harper was reminded of himself on Earth at that age.
"Oh...kay." He said, and slowly smiled back.
The door opened without warning and Okasha popped his starkly dark head in. "What are you doing in here?" He said with mock severity. "You're filling his simple little head with your tales of revolution, aren't you?"
"No, master!" Lim said, but there was laughter in it. Okasha came in the room, a stony-faced Tyr behind him. "Take those trays and get them clean. Don't dawdle." His voice was still free from severity or anger, and Lim obeyed with a smile on his face. Once the boy was gone Okasha lingered in the doorway. "Hurry down," He said to Tyr. "And bring Zay with you." He left the door open to the breezy sound of the lazy morning.
Tyr remained looking at the open door for a moment longer, his eyes troubled.
Harper faked a yawn. "I'm tired, Tyr." He said. "I thought I could...have a nap."
"No," Tyr said firmly, coming to stand in front of the boy. "They requested your presence. I cannot risk their anger."
Harper scowled. "They seem like a pretty friendly bunch, you know," He said, and quickly added: "without all the slavery and everything."
"Okasha is an exception," Tyr lowered himself to sit beside Harper on the low, billowy pallet. "You've made friends here. So have I. Let's not ruin those alliances by refusing their requests."
"Makes sense," Harper conceded softly. He stared down at his splint. "I'm sorry I tried to run away. I didn't realize-"
"I know." Tyr sighed and rubbed his face. "Don't bother yourself with things like that. Just be quiet and do as you're told. I..." He sighed again. "I will try to take care of the rest." He didn't turn to face Harper. "I'm afraid I may have prolonged our stay here."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Beyond your healing."
"How?"
Tyr's face darknened and his fingers twitched and Harper bit his lip. "General Anasazi...the real General Anasazi...was a war leader. A fierce commander. Sought after. Apparently he was just coming home from a triumph when...we...landed. Usurped his name. He lives in a mansion in the mountains in the south. Apparently, he has no family. No wives." Tyr scowled again. "I am beginning to doubt he had much of a household at all. They were surprised that I didn't leave you for dead. They are surprised that I stayed to wait for you to heal."
"But they don't seem all..." Harper stopped when he remembered the young men in the forest the day before. "Why are we staying longer than we have to?"
"I...somehow made a deal with Lord Amasai. Inadvertently. Apparently someone else had mentioned my name...General Anasazi's name, anyway, and by the time Lord Amasai got around to me, the rumour was that I had made him an offer to deal with a separatist rebellion. I couldn't...refuse. I do not know how these people would react."
"I see." Harper didn't, really, but it made sense in a Tyr-ish sort of way.
Tyr's face darkened a bit more, and Harper was about to ask what was wrong, when Tyr stood suddenly. "Enough of this," He said brusquely. "We are here now, we must deal with this as it is. Come." He bent and lifted one of Harper's arms around his head.
"Tyr, I don't think," Harper winced when he was hoisted up, barely able to keep balance on one leg, leaning against Tyr like a big black tree.
"You're right," Tyr said. "I'll have to carry you." He lifted Harper onto his hip like a child again, and Harper had learned enough not to complain too loudly. Chapter Four
"Fine. We'll go over this again." The menacing, dark, well, let's face it, bitch said with a sigh.
Barrister Wilkinson answered with his own long suffering sigh. "We won't go over it again. We've been over it a thousand times already. You're not going to get any more new information right now."
"That's exactly the problem, isn't it!" Beka thought that the tall, angry woman was supposed to be a prosecutor of some kind. The blonde pilot's lip curled up a little as she cocked her head. What a bitch. Really. "If your client isn't offering us any new information, this is a complete waste of time." Ms. Fowler, the prosecutor, started gathering up her papers and files in a flurry. The lab technician who had hired her rolled his eyes and got up from the table, ready for their swift departure.
"You had better get your story straight," The prosecutor glared acidly at Beka, "Or they are going to put you away for a long time."
Beka only looked up at Ms. Fowler serenely, sucking slowly on the small malt chocolate candies she had been sneaking from the shared bowl on the table.
With one last huff, Ms. Fowler left the room, the lab technician trailing in her angry wake.
Wilkinson sighed, a heavy, weighted sigh. Beka snuck another malt chocolate.
"I'm sorry for that," The barrister said, looking older than she was told he was. "She's impossible. Had a hate-on for me since high school."
"No worries," Beka said, flicking her hair slightly. She blinked a little, forgetting momentarily about the heavy bags under her eyes, about the nightmares that plagued her.
"We're going as quickly as we can," He went on, his eyes still closed to the soft, polluted light that fell in sideways through the shuttered window. "To get you out of here. Out of that lab. It's horrible conditions to hold someone."
"I've been through worse," Beka said casually. Wilkinson opened his eyes and regarded her. "Seriously, I have. I'm tough." She narrowed weary blue eyes slightly. "Don't you believe me?"
"I believe you." He said, soft brown eyes unblinking. "I have to. Don't I." It wasn't a question.
Beka smiled weakly as he opened the door and waited for her to exit before him. The guard was still standing outside, sullenly, waiting, not particularly big or heavy. He had, however, some impressive weaponry hanging from his belt, and Beka's neck still stung from it's tease on her neck at her first escape attempt. She had tried twice after that, despite her knowledge in it's futility. She was stubborn.
Beka suddenly missed Harper very much, and a familiar deep ache nestled into her stomach.
"I have a room set aside and everything," Wilkinson went on as the light handcuffs were fastened around her wrists again. The plain, loose white plastic garments nestled stiffly around her as they walked down the long, plain corridors to her lab cell. "A few more days, I promise. I know it's taking long, but I have to get the papers in order. They're.they're not being cooperative."
"I know," Beka said, unsmiling, as she stepped inside the door of the lab. "I.it's fine. Don't stress about it. I don't have anywhere to go, anyway."
Wilkinson smiled sadly and held out one weary arm, stopping the door before it the guard could shut it. "Three more days. Tops. Then you'll be in a real room with real meals and everything."
"Sounds like heaven." Beka smiled again, and it didn't reach her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably, her bare feet cold against the lab floor. "You.could they find.what I asked for?"
The last time Beka had seen Dylan, he had been impaled on a large shard of one of the slipfighter's broken seats. Then they had stormed her and taken her away. And here she was.
"I have the ashes," Wilkinson said bluntly, not unkindly.
Beka blinked and looked away. "He.they're."
"When you're out of here, would you like to have a ceremony for him?"
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." Beka looked up again, trying to smile, the uncertain little girl long gone.
Barrister Wilkinson smiled and nodded again, closing the door ever so softly. "Everything's going to be fine, Beka." He said. "Get some sleep."
With that, he closed the drab grey door and Beka could hear his soft footsteps down the hall.
The lab was dark again, with only a few lights on the sides over desks light up, glowing eerily in the corner of Beka's eyes. Well. At least she had windows, even if they were small.
The windows were low in the wall, dirty, the glass cold to the touch. The lab was located in a skyscraper, hundreds of stories off the ground- at least, that's what she could gather. She spent most of the day huddled in one corner, ignoring the technicians as they went about their work ignoring her, trying to suppress the uneasy quivering in her stomach, trying to forget the sound of Trance gasping and the horrifying beauty of her last slipstream jump. Beka would stare down at the city, big and dirty, at the thousands, millions of hovercars that sped past in an hour, the changing billboards and neon ads, scrolling words in a kanji system that looked vaguely familiar.
It had taken her a long time to get used to the accent and.offish vernacular that these people spoke with. She reacted with violence, at first, of course. They had just as hard a time understanding her, so they locked her up in this lab until they figured out that she really was sort of harmless, outnumbered and without weapons. They still wanted to make sure she wasn't part of some bigger external threat.
The city now was dark, black, light up on the edges by neon lights and flashing billboards, headlights and taillights and reflective clothing. It glowed from the center, and when Beka couldn't sleep she would huddle in the same corner and stare at the glowing center of the massive city, far below her, until she got lost in it's murky yellowness and snapped back, suddenly engulfed with the same fear that had spiked in her when the Andromeda was.
There was a glass mug on the counter, the counter that was usually spotless and immaculate. A scrap of paper lay next to it, scribbled with a message in a runic, almost ancient looking script. Beka could read it, anyway.
Missed you today, Bek. It read. Thought you'd be done by the time I got in, but I guess those suits are even longer-winded than I imagined.
Beka allowed herself a genuine smile. At least, in Casey, she had one honest friend here.
Barrister Wilkinson is awesome, tho, Casey went on in her note. He's gotten me out of more trouble than you can imagine being in. Believe me. I hope I'll get to see you tomorrow, we can chat then. I left you some herbal tea, it'll help you sleep. Use the Bunsen burner to heat some water. Later- Casey.
There was a small blackish teabag inside the mug and Beka filled a large beaker with water, turning on a small flame and allowing it to boil. She stared at the flame and wrapped her skinny arms around herself, let out a long, shaky breath, and tried not to think of the Andromeda.
---
The stucco white corridor and courtyard outside his room looked so much more spectacular now that he wasn't so fevered. A small smile almost graced Harper's face when Tyr carried him out into the open hallway, a light breeze caressing his not-too-sweaty hair, ruffling through his breezy white slave garment.
"Remember what I told you, boy," Tyr almost growled.
"What?" Harper retorted, irritated.
"About being humble. Not making a scene. You're already making a fool of me."
Harper scowled and, without realising it, rested his head against Tyr's shoulder, still perilously tired. "I'm still sick, you know." He said softly.
"I know. But we do what we must to survive." He propped Harper up a little, more violently than was necessary, and Harper bit back a complaint. "That is Lord Amasai," Tyr pointed quickly at a man standing in the centre of the group of dark people congregating in the center of the courtyard, a plethora of pale ghosts lurking in the shadows, literally. "He is the people's elected leader of this country." Tyr said the sentence with disdain, like the mundane politics of such a primitive planet were beneath him. "Casiija has several enemies, mostly to the north. Which, incidentally, is where they raided all their slaves from." Harper would've flinched if he had the energy. Tyr sounded more and more angry every minute he had to spend in this distasteful rule of slave-master, and he sounded like he was trying very hard to keep a tight rein on it.
"Elected leader?" Harper tried to keep up. After his exhausting breakfast with Lim, he wasn't up for an entire day of waiting around on Tyr. Bleugh.
"There is a King, who lives in a palace in the town not far from here. He is only a child." Surprisingly, Tyr didn't spit it out this time. "Somebody has always had control of the land in his lieu, since he was a baby, when his father died. It was another lord before Amasai. A few months later, he was murdered. And Lord Amasai has been leader ever since."
Oh.
"How is that elected?"
Tyr sighed and, if it were possible, rolled his eyes. "Don't even bother worrying about it. It's none of your concern."
Harper's lip curled a little at this. While it was true that the inner scandals of politics were probably the last thing he should be concerning himself with - especially when he still forgot not to look his betters in the eye - he hated to be treated like such a simpleton.
Tyr stopped and stepped towards the edge of the corridor, leaning so that Harper was almost sitting on the banister overlooking the courtyard. "That is Lady Geeia." He said, pointing again at a tall, elegant lady in the centre of the proceedings. "She is Okasha's twin sister. She is very much.like him."
"She likes you," Harper said with just a hint of teasing in his voice.
Something that could have been a sigh left Tyr's body. "So the slave gossip has already reached you," He said wearily. "It's.purely physical."
Harper laughed. "What the hell else did you think it was?"
Tyr glared up at Harper. "She's not going to hinder our leaving this place." He said with conviction.
"I know," Harper said softly, dropping his gaze and staring at his splint and swollen foot. "I was just.having some fun."
There was a long, weighted pause. "Good," Tyr said, eventually, and Harper wondered what that could mean.
There was an outside staircase that they took down into the courtyard, huge, green, ethereal blossoms coming up to greet them, pink and yellow flowers blooming and fragrant and lighting up the courtyard with colour.
The sky was a staggering blue and went on forever, and endless stretch punctuated only by the quivering white sun high in the center.
As soon as Tyr stepped out of the shade of the white stucco walls, Harper felt like he was going to die. Sunlight hit his skin directly and he screwed his eyes shut, burying his head again, unashamedly, into Tyr's dark shoulder. His entire body spiked out in gooseflesh in the heat, hot shivers, he stared sweating almost instantaneously and he honestly didn't know how long he could hold out. He had gotten used to the heat radiating off the shaded white stucco, but this was unbearable.
It was the sort of heat you could see rising off the ground and on the skin of others, the heat you could breathe into your body and wear on your back. Drawing from experience, Harper knew if he spent more than five minutes in this direct sunlight, he was going to be felled for a long time coming.
"I know," Tyr said comfortingly as Harper whimpered unconsciously. He turned quickly and Harper found himself in the starkly cool shade, sighing contentedly. "Remember to stay out of the sun. In your condition, it will harm you greatly."
Harper almost gave Tyr a snide remark, but he looked at the older man's weary, commanding face and bit the inside of his cheek. He sighed and carefully leaned against the cool white wall so he didn't fall right over.
"I know you are tired," Tyr continued. "I want nothing more than for you to heal properly so we can leave this godforsaken rock. I do not want you to exert yourself too much while we are out here."
"Well, if that's the case, couldn't you just-" Whatever Harper was about to suggest, it was cut off when Tyr clamped a hand down over the boy's mouth.
His eyes were wide with warning as he muttered: "What did I tell you? Silence."
Tyr dropped his grip of Harper's mouth and the boy bit his lip a little, and then dropped his gaze, if only to stop staring into those troubled dark eyes, trying to forget the feel of the Nietzschean's hand splayed across his face.
Representative Okasha had come up behind Tyr at some point, with is sister Lady Geeia. He made a big show of introducing Harper as "The General's spoilt little pet," and the Lady absolutely loved it.
"Oh, he's adorable!" She said, pinching Harper's cheeks. Pinching! Harper, at Tyr's pantomimed cue, smiled weakly and tried to look away as quickly as possible. "And how do you like your master, little one?"
"He's shy," Tyr supplied again, thankfully.
"Aww.leave it to you, General Anasazi, to take such a shy little thing under your protection."
Oh, this was too good. Harper risked a glance through lowered lids at Tyr's uncomfortable reaction.
"That's.kind of you to say." Tyr took one involuntary step back from the wealthy woman's gaze.
Representative Okasha broke up the uncomfortable scenario when he laughed heartily and presented Harper with a crude crutch he had just cut down from one of the trees in the courtyard. He made a show of the bruises he obtained on his arms and back when he fell out of the tree, amid his sister's giggles.
"This is so you no longer have to burden your master carrying you around like a black prince," He said, jovially, not realising just how much his words offended the engineer.
"Th-thanks," Harper said slowly, remembering that he was supposed to be shy, looking determinedly at the ground and not at the Representative's face.
"Polite, albeit spoiled." Okasha said with laughter in his voice. "Come, Tyr, the Lord Amasai wishes to speak to us." He said the state leader's name with just the slightest hint of bitterness. Harper barely heard it, so intent was he with studying the green, green grass that stuck out from under his flimsy sandal.
Tyr gave Harper one last warning, not unfriendly glance, and followed the Representative and his sister slowly to where Lord Amasai was seated near a grove of trees with several other highly decorated individuals.
Lord Amasai was the colour of rum in coffee, and his skin shone in the heat but did not gleam with sweat. He was by no means a big man, but emanated a power in his slenderness and impressive height. He was just as tall as Tyr, if not taller- Harper couldn't judge from this distance.
Panga, her black-black hair swept back into a loose half-ponytail, was laying a wide chart over a table on the grass. So pale was her skin that Harper couldn't tell where she ended and her slave garment began. She looked like a little pearl rolled in from of the ocean, nestled into the green, pink, and yellow courtyard, outnumbered and dwarfed by her dark counterparts in their lavish costumes.
She looked up, as if she felt Harpers eyes on hers, and looked back at him for just a second. He almost thought she was going to give him a friendly smile but there was something else there- pity? -and then she turned back to her work, working her jaw unconsciously like she had just seen something that disturbed her.
Then Harper made the mistake of letting his gaze wander to the whisky eyes of Lord Amasai.
So startled was the skinny Earthen engineer that he didn't realize he was committing the previously proclaimed grave offense of looking directly into the nobleman's face. Lord Amasai smiled faintly, his eyes hard and bitter, and a shiver ran down Harper's spine. It wasn't until Lord Amasai blinked, almost laughingly, that Harper realized what he had been doing and dropped his gaze to the ground, again.
It occurred to Harper that he had a crick in his neck from staring at the ground. He sighed miserably and rubbed his neck ineffectually.
"Hey!" A friendly voice spooked him out of his already spooked reverie, and he looked up to see Lim in the shade next to him, playing with his fingertips in the same way he had half an hour before. "What are you doing right now?"
"Standing here talking to you, why?" Harper was suddenly very tired, if it was possible on top of the exhaustion he felt before.
Lim rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Don't be a smart ass. I mean does your master need you for anything? Because I'm done with the dishes and there's something I want to show you."
Harper hazarded a glance back to the small congregation near the grove of trees, and thankfully the Lord with the hard whisky eyes wasn't looking at him this time. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "I'm still sick. I'm just supposed to stay here."
"Oh, where's the fun in that?" Lim went around to Harper's left side, where the crutch wasn't, and took his arm the way Beka sometimes walked with Trance.
Out of blue, Harper was very homesick. He closed his eyes and only opened them again when he felt Lim's tug on his arm.
"Come on, it's totally wicked," Lim said, and he took Harper towards one of the inconspicuous entrances in the courtyard wall.
When Tyr had a chance to look up from the charts and check to see how Harper was doing, the boy was gone, and Tyr wondered when he would realize that Harper never obeyed instructions.
--
Harper was tired and aching, but it didn't matter how many times he protested, Lim didn't stop leading him up and down through the estate's impressive kitchens until they had found Panga, who had gone back to her own quarters and was looking sadly out the window when they entered.
Then the excitable boy had led both of them, arms linked, one on each side, out the estate on the opposite side of the forest and ocean, opposite of where Harper had tried to escape earlier. He simply walked out of the building nonchalantly, chattering constantly the entire time.
The heat affected Harper almost instantly, and he saw the sweat drenching down the slave garments of his companions. He started to lag almost right away, and when he did gather the strength to look up at Panga, she rolled her eyes and jerked her head at Lim, and stopped walking.
"Lim, slow down. Zay's still too sick for this."
"Oh, what?" Lim turned around and scowled, crossing his arms. "Come on, Zaymus. You can fool your master but you can't fool me."
"Who's fooling? I'm seriously sick." Harper scowled. "It's fucking hot! How can you stand it?"
"Come on, Lim." Panga went on like Harper hadn't even opened his mouth. "Let's just go back. We're going to get heat fever."
"Oh, come on, you guys, you have to see this! Please? It'll be totally worth it!" Lim actually stomped his foot at the beginning of that sentence, clasping his hands and looking up at Panga with soft, impressionable eyes. "I promise, when we get back home I'll make you both coconut ice."
"Fine," She had said, and Harper had sighed, but while Lim skipped ahead, still talking on and on about nothing, she lingered back with him.
After a long while, she said: "Do you need help?"
"With what?"
"Walking. Can you use that leg at all?"
"No."
"No, you can't use that leg, or no you don't need help?"
"No to both," He smiled up at her, but the effect was lost with his sweaty, red, still-bruised face. "I have a crutch, I'm fine. It's just..it's hot. Is all."
"It gets hot during the day, we're not..we shouldn't be out this close to noon. I'm going to burn." She sighed, and Harper looked at her sidelong, but it wasn't a pouty, self-centered sigh. "My mistress is kind, though. She won't care. Will the General?"
"Huh?" It took Harper a while to remember he was supposed to be playing the part of slave. "Oh. Well.I'm sick. So."
"Yeah," Panga undid her hair and ran her hands through it a little, and Harper was struck by the void blackness of it, and she quickly straightened it did it up again, all without taking her eyes off the beaten path in the grass before her.
The rolling fields stretched on forever in all directions. On the horizon, one could see the low homesteads of farmers, and their fenced off chunks of land. On the other side, behind them, was Amasai's impressive estate and beyond that, glimmering, past a small forest of dark green trees, was the ocean.
The vegetation on this side of the estate was sparse, sandy, sharp blades of grass here and there, and very low shrubby bushes. A low, twisted, misshapen tree spotted the land here and there, and Harper thought he saw a pride of golden animals in the distance, but it was too far to tell. The heat rising off the land made everything wavy. Harper lagged behind even more.
"Come on, you guys!" Lim called from where he knelt by a low tree a distance from them. Eventually they caught up and Lim wrung his hands giddily, staring down at the little hole dug in at the base of the tree.
It was full of four, scrambling, mewling little animals, something that looked but didn't quite sound like kittens.
"Oh." Panga let out a low sound, barely audible, and probably not voluntary. Harper collapsed in the tree's shade and sighed, not caring about the little animals at all.
"Aren't they cool? I found them last night when I went looking for my ball." Lim held one up to Panga, and she took it in her hands, her unattractive green eyes unblinking.
Harper watched the kitten scramble about on Panga's undelighted hand with disinterest, too tired and hot and sick to care.
"Do you think my master will let me keep them? In the kitchen or something?"
"I don't think so," Panga said, not unkindly. "They must have a mother or something."
Their mother was mauled by the bigger cats out here, Harper heard a familiar voice. He looked up, snapping his eyes open, confused. Trance?
Geez, it was hot! He must be mental-miraging or something. He was tired.
"I think their mother must've abandoned them," Lim said. "Well, I don't care. I'm taking at least one." He looked up at Harper. "Do you want one, Zay? I bet your master would let you have a pet."
Harper was going to answer, but instead, he coughed. He curled up a little in the shade and thought about having a nap here.
"Are you all right, Zay?" Lim asked, but he was more concerned with the mewling kitten in his hands.
"M'fine," Harper said tiredly.
"Well, if you guys are taking one, I'm going to take one," Panga said, and Harper managed to crack his reddened eyes open to look at her. "I think I'll name this one Kusmin."
You could name yours after me! Harper could almost hear Trance say, and he almost smiled, until he realized just how delusional that was. He struggled to sit up, but right after he saw the most amazing thing- Panga smiling gently at her kitten- the heat got the better of him and he passed out with a hard *thud*.
---
When Harper woke up, he was cradled in Tyr's arms, hot beyond uncomfortable, and whimpering like mad. It felt like his skull was imploding. He wanted to die.
"Disrespectful, stubborn," He barley heard Tyr rambling. He saw the dizzingly blue sky spinning above Tyr's dark head. In the distance, Lim's protesting voice could be heard backgrounding Okasha's angry reprimands. The world refused to stop whirling. Harper almost retched but he really didn't want to do that all over Tyr.
Tyr grumbled something about impossible companions and ridiculous expansionism, but Harper couldn't follow his train of thought. His quarantine room was remarkably cool and breezy, and Harper sighed audibly when they got inside there, the oppressive heat of the outside finally lifted. His skin was already blistering anew. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
Tyr undid the complicated ties of Harper's garment and sandals, and helped him out of the virgin white gown with surprising gentleness, laying Harper's abused, burned body down in the pristine sheets, propping his splinted leg up again. He was about to go off on another tirade of verbal abuse when he realized Harper had already fallen into a fitful sleep.
The Nietzschean rubbed his face and leaned his elbows on the billow white pallet, and allowed himself a moment to rest and think and listen to Harper's laboured breathing. Then they would be expecting him in the dining hall for the noon meal.
He gaze Harper one last lingering, almost protective, gaze before he closed the door on the cool white room. He almost stepped on the underfoot slaves who were waiting outside.
The boy, Okasha's servant, stuttered and wrung his hands nervously. The girl, Geeia's servant, who was holding a small bowl full of what could have passed as ice cream, rolled her eyes and looked right up into Tyr's eyes, defiantly.
"Lim promised that he'd bring Zay coconut ice," She said, simply.
Tyr didn't respond right away, there was something in her unattractive green eyes that demanded his full attention. "He's asleep." He said, finally. The girl nodded. She tugged at the boy's gown a little and they scampered off, silently.
Tyr took another moment to gather his thoughts, curse his luck, and then he walked down to the dining hall.
Tyr dropped his gaze from the high window and paced the small room quietly. "You must take pains not to behave so much...like yourself while we are here. The slaves here are absurdly quiet, subservient, and-"
"Well, no shit, Sherlock, they-"
"And you must NEVER raise your voice!" Tyr warned. "Some of the whites have been put to death for that. They forgave you before because you were so ill." Tyr turned to look at Harper now, his eyes troubled. "Don't look anyone in the eye, except me and the other slaves. Don't speak to anyone except me and the other slaves, and then only when you're spoken to. And do not do anything unless I tell you."
"Why can't I-"
"Just shut up and do as I say, Harper." Tyr let out a heavy, shaky breath and leaned against one wall. "You've done more distasteful things before to survive, and you'll do it again."
Harper turned a little in his billowy pallet and tugged at his pillow. Tyr was right. Harper would just have liked to have forgotten about it.
"You will not try to escape again," Tyr said. "I thought taking your clothes away would stop you after the first time, but I seemed to have forgotten how stubborn you are," There was a hint of joviality in Tyr's tone. Harper allowed himself a small smile.
"Where are my clothes now?" He asked, quietly.
"They were...soiled beyond use."
"Oh."
They remained silent for a little while, Tyr staring at one wall, Harper staring at his pillow. Then Tyr said: "You have to understand this is a burden for me, as well." His voice was soft. Harper looked up at him with interest. "The Kodiak did not own slaves. We had kludges do our labour sometimes, yes, and it was harsh- but we did not keep a title on them. We'd let them have families, they were free to go if they had a place to go to. A true Alpha does not...need...a slave." There was pure disgust evident in Tyr's voice. "The men downstairs make me...they make me want to be ill."
"I'm...sorry," Harper said softly, fingering the pristine white sheets a little.
"I must go," Tyr said. "They think I am a General, and an honoured guest. We must keep up the facade until you are well enough to travel- then we'll get the hell out of here and figure out a way to get back into space." Tyr paused at the door. "After that, if you wish to go look for your fallen comrades, I'll not stop you."
It was the smallest little offer of comfort, a reinforcement that Tyr did not take any of this personally, a reminder that if, in the future, he were beaten again- Tyr didn't mean it.
"Thanks," Harper said.
"I will have someone bring you another meal. Then you will go back to sleep. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
Tyr raised an eyebrow and waited.
"Yesss...s-sir," Harper forced it out of himself.
It was a start.
Tyr smiled his approval briefly, and then disappeared into white on white.
--
It was beginning to darken outside. Harper lay in his pallet for about ten minutes, staring up at the ceiling and the high, open window, watching the light on the ceiling and the opposite wall change and dimmer.
He had just about nodded off, managing to forget about the tightening in his otherwise upset stomach, when the door opened softly and the girl from before entered, carrying a similar tray to the one before.
"Well," She said, and he did notice a faint accent in her voice, but he couldn't place it. "His Highness is awake."
Harper scowled a little, but tried not to let his annoyance show too much. The girl entered the room, her little white feet almost silent on the stone floor, and set the tray down by Harper's pallet. There was another bowl of soup that didn't look particularly attractive, some bread, something that looked like cheese, and a glass of what could have been water. The girl produced a spoon and set it on the side of the tray. There was also what looked like a little cake, small and round, on the end.
"Thank you," Harper said softly.
She looked up at him, startled. "What?"
"Thank you," He said again. "For...bringing me this. I don't like being a hassle."
"It's not a hassle," She shrugged. "It's not like I'd be doing anything better."
Harper struggled to get into a seating position, up against one wall. The girl lifted the tray and placed it on his lap. "Did you make this?" He asked, feeling weird about to eat while she sat on his floor, staring up at him from under painfully straight and clean black hair.
"No," She said. "It was leftovers. Except the little piece of cake. They're serving it downstairs and your master asked me to bring you some."
"He did?"
The girl nodded unsmilingly, her unattractive puke green eyes boring a hole into him. "There was more, but...I sort of ate it."
Harper smiled faintly, his head still aching a little. "That's okay," He said, knowing that if he were in her place, he probably wouldn't have served the food at all.
"Your master is very kind," She said, wistfully.
"I...guess so."
"He's not like the men here," Harper tensed up a bit. "He's so much taller, and stronger. Cunning."
Harper stared at her and wondered what the hell was wrong with this planet. "What's your name?" He tried to change the subject.
"Panga," She replied, casually. "What's yours?"
"Harper," he said, and added, before thinking: "Seamus Harper."
"You have two names?"
"Yeah."
"Which one do I use?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do I call you Zaymus or do I call you Harper?" Her accent twisted his name and Harper could barely recognize it.
"You could call me either, I guess. Most of my friends call me Harper."
"What does your master call you?"
"Boy."
She smiled at this. "I'll call you Zaymus. I like that."
Harper was too tired and hungry to care either way. "Okay," He said, after taking a spoonful of soup, which wasn't as bad as he remembered it.
"...My mistress really likes your master as well."
Huh.
"Who's your mistress?" Harper had eaten almost all of the cheese on the bread. He was holding it down pretty good, considering.
"I work for one of Okasha's sisters, Lady Geeia."
"Work for?"
Panga only looked at him. "You broke your leg," She said, dropping the gaze of her ugly green eyes.
"Yeah," Harper's voice was a little bitter. "I was trying to get out to see the ocean,"
Panga smiled again, and there was laughter in her accented voice. "You were trying to escape," She disputed. "You've done it before. You shouldn't, you'll never get out of here if they don't want you to leave."
Harper shrugged and finished off his soup, looking suspiciously at his water. "If I don't try, what good am I?"
Panga cocked her head and looked up at him again.
Harper sniffed at the water a bit. It smelt a little metallic, a little like silver. He took an experimental sip. Tasted like water. Not particularly clean water, but he wasn't complaining. He had drunk water from here before- but Tyr had brought him that.
Oh, well. He drank it.
"You're dangerous," Panga said softly when she took the glass from him, and picked up his tray.
"What do you mean?" Harper asked, suppressing a yawn. His room had darkened quickly.
"Well, if I'm right..." Panga stood in the doorway a little while longer, not looking at him. "We'll see what I mean." She gave him one last little smile, half comforting, half mocking, and left him alone to sleep.
--
Harper had a nightmare that night.
It was a jumbled conglomeration of vague memories and cartoonish super horror, if Harper had been paying close enough attention.
First, he was back on Earth, back in suburban Boston, and in his dream he was too stoned to think or act clearly. He huddled in a sewer tunnel, the one where he always went when...
In his hands was a plastic bag full of industrial glue solvent that he held giddily to his mouth and nose, breathing in the burning fumes and feeling it split open the tiny tears in the back of his throat. He had a pretty good drip going on, and his eyes watered and he smiled, shaking ever so slightly, at the ray of light shooting through the manhole to the opposite side of him.
He was eight. The sewer tunnel was in Quincy, on the coast of what was once a nation, alongside what was once an ocean.
In the sewers were hot water pipes, still in use for the factories and the homes of the Nietzscheans deemed low enough to live on Earth with the kludges. Over two of these pipes was a pile of old rags and several young humans, including Harper's father, who was only twenty-one, huddled upon.
Harper looked at the snoring mass and smiled queasily. He struggled to his feet; the plastic bag in his hand deflated a little bit and some of the industrial solvent slipped out and burned his delicate little fingers. He didn't care.
He didn't know where he was going as he traipsed down the messy corridor, swinging his acidic little bag in front of him, singing a tuneless, off-key diddy. He heard laughter behind him, but was too stoned to care.
Then they were on him. And Harper screamed and kicked and they yelled back and no one tried to help him, and he was too stoned to wonder why.
Then he was lying on the floor of the Maru, face down, feeling like he'd just drank his weight in vodka, and possibly his weight again in gin.
He looked up, the world spinning, and Trance, his old, original, purple princess Trance, was standing before him, smiling gently.
"Pay attention." She said.
"Wuh?"
"You got high, didn't you?"
"Drunk, maybe. High? ...Maybe."
"Clear your head." She smiled again, a little sadder this time. "Pay attention."
Then there was pain, and blinding lights, and screaming, and fire, and things falling out of the sky like a biblical plague.
Then Harper woke up with a violent struggle in the billowy white pallet, Tyr standing over him looking like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Tyr?" Harper said, nervously, his voice small and frail. He shook a little, sweating, the images of that of which he was not quite sure he wanted to know still fresh in his mind's eye, along with dark shadows lurking in the Quincy sewers- stop it!
Tyr visibly flinched when Harper twitched, which made the boy even more nervous.
"It was just a dream, Tyr," Harper smiled weakly. "Got lots of those. I'm not sicker or nothing."
Tyr nodded, solemnly, his stony face hiding the softness in his dark eyes. He moved forward slightly. The sunlight shooting in through the high window lit the white wall ablaze, making Tyr seem darker than the eternal spotty walls of deep space. "Do you think you feel well enough to go outside?"
Harper hesitated, looking down at his bruised up self. "I don't know. Besides my leg.I guess so. You'd have to." He scowled and bit the inside of his cheek, too stubborn to say it out loud.
"Yes, I know," Tyr came to stand near Harper's pallet now, slinging a white garment over his shoulder. "If it helps you to recover faster, and thus improves our chances for getting back offworld, then I am not adverse to-"
"Fine!" Harper said, not unkindly, staring at the ceiling while Tyr un- manacled his good ankle. He didn't want to hear anything that reminded him of his present situation. Whatever the alternative may be.
Tyr took away some of the pristine white sheets slowly, carefully, with a gentleness that surprised Harper. They must get it from taking care of all those kids. He thought, and then scowled and wondered where the hell that thought came from.
He didn't resist when Tyr helped him to his feet, slowly, painfully, tactfully looking pointedly at the top of Harper's head. He let Harper steady himself across his chest and slipped the flimsy, simple white garment over the little human's head.
"Ugh," Harper said, without thinking, when the garment was finally on him.
"Indeed," Tyr agreed, the disgust evident in his voice as he secured the garment along Harper's slim back.
It was a simple tunic, made of something cottony and breathy and soft that felt good against Harper's bruised and sun burnt flesh. It fell to just above his knees, and the pure virgin whiteness of it made him even pastier in colour and look very vulnerable, blending in neatly with the white background. If he weren't so sun burnt he would have been invisible.
Maybe that's the point, Harper thought bitterly. Tyr was still tying the tunic in the back in such a way that Harper was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to get it off himself. Oh well. He'd just have to live the rest of his life without ever taking off this tunic. Better than being dressed by someone else.
Tyr helped him back to sit on the low, billowy pallet. Harper yawned and stretched, and several of his bones cracked wincingly, loudly, and Harper flinched. If Tyr noticed, he didn't respond, for which Harper was thankful. The boy looked up miserably as Tyr undid the straps on a pair of complicated looking sandals.
"You don't have to-"
"You want to try it yourself?" Tyr said, flippantly, holding out one of the sandals expectantly. Harper flushed furiously and looked away.
"Didn't think so," He thought he heard Tyr say, as the big Nietzschean knelt at Harper's feet.
It was a weird feeling, possibly weirder than anything Harper had experienced on this planet thus far. Tyr's big hands held Harper's relatively dainty left foot gently, easing it into the mould of the strappy softwood sandal kindly, his warmth emanating into Harper's morning-cold toes like sunlight on frost. The straps went up to Harper's knee, criss- crossing, the beige of the soft wood standing out against Harper's pale, bruised, and sun burnt skin. Harper tensed minutely, almost a shiver, at the feel of Tyr's arm against his sensitive calf. The Nietzschean didn't appear to notice it, but that, of course, was a lie.
Harper hissed, barely, when Tyr touched his right foot.
"Does it pain you?"
"Not really."
"The truth."
"A little. Ow!" Tyr slid the sandal over Harper's right foot, which was a little swollen, very quickly. Harper winced as he gently secured the straps over the aching flesh, and over the splint. It secured it nicely in place, as well.
Before he was done, Tyr's head lifted a fraction of an inch. Then he turned to look at the white on white doorway, and Harper cocked an eyebrow.
The door opened and a tall dark man leaned casually against the doorway. He wasn't nearly as tall or big as Tyr, but the engineered elegance of his costume spoke volumes. He was as black as the ocean night, at least, as black as ocean nights on Earth should have been.
"Representative Okasha," Tyr started, with a meticulously crafted casual air, not getting up.
"This was the last place I thought to look," The other man said jovially, smiling. He had a small goatee and kind dark eyes. "I never though that such a feared war commander like yourself could be such a gentle master."
"That's." Tyr seemed to be measuring his words, as he stood up slowly. "Kind of you to say." The big Nietzschean looked down at Harper and nudged the boy's good leg with his foot ever so slightly. Harper realized he had been staring at Okasha's face. He bit his lip hurriedly and dropped his gaze to his swollen foot.
Harper would swear to the Divine he heard Okasha chuckling. Chuckling! He scowled at the floor and tried not to flush.
"So this is Zaymus," The local aristocrat said, not unkindly. "He must have slept like a baby after yesterday's.excursion."
Oh, you can go and fuck right off, Harper thought cruelly.
"Does he say hello?" Okasha went on, like a bemused uncle.
"He's shy," Tyr said quickly, his hand brushing up against Harper's cheek slightly.
You bastard.
"Lim tells me he is always hungry," Okasha went on, stepping into the room a little bit.
Harper made a face and forgot to keep staring at the floor. Who the hell was Lim?
As if on cue, a teenaged boy as pale as a cloud, with raven black hair that flopped playfully into his eyes, stepped into the room, smiling. He was carrying a simple porcelain tray and Harper wondered fleetingly where Panga was.
"You are an extremely kind Master, General," Okasha went on, like it was some great joke. "He is dreadfully spoiled." He chuckled again when Harper realized he had been staring up at the man's face.
"I am...not without my weaknesses," Tyr managed to make it sound like he had a sweet tooth for chocolate.
"Oh, come on, Tyr, you don't have to proove anything to me." Okasha laughed outright at the stony expression on Tyr's face. "It couldn't kill you to smile, you know. After your little one is done his breakfast, Lord Amasai would like a word with us. Come outside with me and have some tobacco, leave the boys to their gossip. They are not without their lives, you know." Okasha was still chuckling irritatingly as he led Tyr out to the stucco white terrace. As he left, Tyr threw a glance over his shoulder at Harper that warned of volumes of pain should any cover be blown.
The door closed to white on white and Harper could still hear the Representative's good natured laughing.
As soon as the door closed, Lim's body transformed and he slouched, leaning against one wall.
"So you're Zay," he said with a smile, as good natured as his master.
"Yeah..."
"I'm Lim."
"So I see." Harper said, irritably. He stared down at the tray Lim had dumped on his lap, trying to shift his aching legs without upsetting the same drab soup and cup of water. "It's the same as last night," He said dejectedly, his voice low.
"Well, dur," Lim said, picking at his nails impatiently. "Leftovers. Sor- ry, your royal fucking highness," Then he flashed a white smile and Harper knew it was in jest.
Harper smiled back, weakly, and dipped some of the stale bread into the putrid green broth.
"That's pretty fucking sweet, what you did, yesterday." Lim went on like he was discussing the weather. "We were all watching from the kitchens. The way you just walked out of there."
"You told on me?" Harper wasn't angry, really, his situation was surreal enough that he couldn't be.
"I didn't," Lim scoffed distastefully. "Aza, one of the cooks, she did. She's old, though. You can't blame her."
"How old are you?" Harper asked, for curiosity's sake.
Lim stood up off the wall proudly. "I'll be sixteen in a month. I think." He shrugged. "Sometime next month. Around sixteen. Anyway." He flicked floppy black hair out of his eyes. "By then I'll be able to go with my master back home. He always said it was too dangerous before."
Harper ruffled his brow. "Why?"
Lim shrugged. "Master represents one of the...poorer districts here." He said slowly. "He says that there aren't many whites there, because the people are too poor to take care of us. I'm a luxury, he says," Lim smiled proudly at that, too. "In fact, a lot of the work that the industry in his district is based on is labour that, normally, a slave would do. But actual people have to do it, 'cause they're so poor. You know, black people." Harper blinked. Lim didn't notice. "So I've never left this compound."
"So...what do you do all the time?"
"Oh, I'm supposed to help out with the kitchen staff. Usually me 'n Panga just fuck around." Harper blinked again, but he kept staring at his rapidly diminishing soup. For such crappy soup, he sure did eat it quickly. "Master has lots of other help, at his home, but he doesn't have any valets but me, and he wouldn't let me travel with him like you and the General." Lim leaned his head to the side a bit. "Does the General have lots of other slaves? At his home?"
"Uh...no."
Lim smiled lasciviciously. "Not even girls?"
"He has-" Harper bit the inside of his cheek, stopping himself. "You know, I'm still really sick and hurt and...I'm not even sure I can remember where home is."
Lim's dark, almost feminine eyes widened. "Ooh...fuck, Zay, you're in it bad!"
"What?"
"I would die if I were like that. Seriously. I would." Harper suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Lim was as melodramatic as teenagers anywhere.
"I'm fine, Lim," He said firmly. "I'm just...confused right now. Could you help me?"
"With what?"
"Where are we?"
Lim rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. We're in Lord Amasai's summer home. On the coast."
Harper's eyes glowed. "Near the ocean?"
"Of course, dumbass."
"Have you seen the ocean?"
Lim rolled his eyes again. "No," He said sarcastically. "Never."
Harper scowled. "You're not helping!"
"'Course I've seen the ocean. We have bonfires down there, every month. We...oh. You're from the mountains, aren't you?"
"Ye...yes?"
"Right. Okay. Yeah, I'll take you to the beach when you're better, if your master lets you. To a bonfire. If you promise to show me the mountains one day."
"I can't-"
"Well," Lim shrugged. "My master likes your master. Probably after you've gone home, and after I've had my birthday, we'll come and visit you. And you can show me around." Lim smiled, and Harper was reminded of himself on Earth at that age.
"Oh...kay." He said, and slowly smiled back.
The door opened without warning and Okasha popped his starkly dark head in. "What are you doing in here?" He said with mock severity. "You're filling his simple little head with your tales of revolution, aren't you?"
"No, master!" Lim said, but there was laughter in it. Okasha came in the room, a stony-faced Tyr behind him. "Take those trays and get them clean. Don't dawdle." His voice was still free from severity or anger, and Lim obeyed with a smile on his face. Once the boy was gone Okasha lingered in the doorway. "Hurry down," He said to Tyr. "And bring Zay with you." He left the door open to the breezy sound of the lazy morning.
Tyr remained looking at the open door for a moment longer, his eyes troubled.
Harper faked a yawn. "I'm tired, Tyr." He said. "I thought I could...have a nap."
"No," Tyr said firmly, coming to stand in front of the boy. "They requested your presence. I cannot risk their anger."
Harper scowled. "They seem like a pretty friendly bunch, you know," He said, and quickly added: "without all the slavery and everything."
"Okasha is an exception," Tyr lowered himself to sit beside Harper on the low, billowy pallet. "You've made friends here. So have I. Let's not ruin those alliances by refusing their requests."
"Makes sense," Harper conceded softly. He stared down at his splint. "I'm sorry I tried to run away. I didn't realize-"
"I know." Tyr sighed and rubbed his face. "Don't bother yourself with things like that. Just be quiet and do as you're told. I..." He sighed again. "I will try to take care of the rest." He didn't turn to face Harper. "I'm afraid I may have prolonged our stay here."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Beyond your healing."
"How?"
Tyr's face darknened and his fingers twitched and Harper bit his lip. "General Anasazi...the real General Anasazi...was a war leader. A fierce commander. Sought after. Apparently he was just coming home from a triumph when...we...landed. Usurped his name. He lives in a mansion in the mountains in the south. Apparently, he has no family. No wives." Tyr scowled again. "I am beginning to doubt he had much of a household at all. They were surprised that I didn't leave you for dead. They are surprised that I stayed to wait for you to heal."
"But they don't seem all..." Harper stopped when he remembered the young men in the forest the day before. "Why are we staying longer than we have to?"
"I...somehow made a deal with Lord Amasai. Inadvertently. Apparently someone else had mentioned my name...General Anasazi's name, anyway, and by the time Lord Amasai got around to me, the rumour was that I had made him an offer to deal with a separatist rebellion. I couldn't...refuse. I do not know how these people would react."
"I see." Harper didn't, really, but it made sense in a Tyr-ish sort of way.
Tyr's face darkened a bit more, and Harper was about to ask what was wrong, when Tyr stood suddenly. "Enough of this," He said brusquely. "We are here now, we must deal with this as it is. Come." He bent and lifted one of Harper's arms around his head.
"Tyr, I don't think," Harper winced when he was hoisted up, barely able to keep balance on one leg, leaning against Tyr like a big black tree.
"You're right," Tyr said. "I'll have to carry you." He lifted Harper onto his hip like a child again, and Harper had learned enough not to complain too loudly. Chapter Four
"Fine. We'll go over this again." The menacing, dark, well, let's face it, bitch said with a sigh.
Barrister Wilkinson answered with his own long suffering sigh. "We won't go over it again. We've been over it a thousand times already. You're not going to get any more new information right now."
"That's exactly the problem, isn't it!" Beka thought that the tall, angry woman was supposed to be a prosecutor of some kind. The blonde pilot's lip curled up a little as she cocked her head. What a bitch. Really. "If your client isn't offering us any new information, this is a complete waste of time." Ms. Fowler, the prosecutor, started gathering up her papers and files in a flurry. The lab technician who had hired her rolled his eyes and got up from the table, ready for their swift departure.
"You had better get your story straight," The prosecutor glared acidly at Beka, "Or they are going to put you away for a long time."
Beka only looked up at Ms. Fowler serenely, sucking slowly on the small malt chocolate candies she had been sneaking from the shared bowl on the table.
With one last huff, Ms. Fowler left the room, the lab technician trailing in her angry wake.
Wilkinson sighed, a heavy, weighted sigh. Beka snuck another malt chocolate.
"I'm sorry for that," The barrister said, looking older than she was told he was. "She's impossible. Had a hate-on for me since high school."
"No worries," Beka said, flicking her hair slightly. She blinked a little, forgetting momentarily about the heavy bags under her eyes, about the nightmares that plagued her.
"We're going as quickly as we can," He went on, his eyes still closed to the soft, polluted light that fell in sideways through the shuttered window. "To get you out of here. Out of that lab. It's horrible conditions to hold someone."
"I've been through worse," Beka said casually. Wilkinson opened his eyes and regarded her. "Seriously, I have. I'm tough." She narrowed weary blue eyes slightly. "Don't you believe me?"
"I believe you." He said, soft brown eyes unblinking. "I have to. Don't I." It wasn't a question.
Beka smiled weakly as he opened the door and waited for her to exit before him. The guard was still standing outside, sullenly, waiting, not particularly big or heavy. He had, however, some impressive weaponry hanging from his belt, and Beka's neck still stung from it's tease on her neck at her first escape attempt. She had tried twice after that, despite her knowledge in it's futility. She was stubborn.
Beka suddenly missed Harper very much, and a familiar deep ache nestled into her stomach.
"I have a room set aside and everything," Wilkinson went on as the light handcuffs were fastened around her wrists again. The plain, loose white plastic garments nestled stiffly around her as they walked down the long, plain corridors to her lab cell. "A few more days, I promise. I know it's taking long, but I have to get the papers in order. They're.they're not being cooperative."
"I know," Beka said, unsmiling, as she stepped inside the door of the lab. "I.it's fine. Don't stress about it. I don't have anywhere to go, anyway."
Wilkinson smiled sadly and held out one weary arm, stopping the door before it the guard could shut it. "Three more days. Tops. Then you'll be in a real room with real meals and everything."
"Sounds like heaven." Beka smiled again, and it didn't reach her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably, her bare feet cold against the lab floor. "You.could they find.what I asked for?"
The last time Beka had seen Dylan, he had been impaled on a large shard of one of the slipfighter's broken seats. Then they had stormed her and taken her away. And here she was.
"I have the ashes," Wilkinson said bluntly, not unkindly.
Beka blinked and looked away. "He.they're."
"When you're out of here, would you like to have a ceremony for him?"
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." Beka looked up again, trying to smile, the uncertain little girl long gone.
Barrister Wilkinson smiled and nodded again, closing the door ever so softly. "Everything's going to be fine, Beka." He said. "Get some sleep."
With that, he closed the drab grey door and Beka could hear his soft footsteps down the hall.
The lab was dark again, with only a few lights on the sides over desks light up, glowing eerily in the corner of Beka's eyes. Well. At least she had windows, even if they were small.
The windows were low in the wall, dirty, the glass cold to the touch. The lab was located in a skyscraper, hundreds of stories off the ground- at least, that's what she could gather. She spent most of the day huddled in one corner, ignoring the technicians as they went about their work ignoring her, trying to suppress the uneasy quivering in her stomach, trying to forget the sound of Trance gasping and the horrifying beauty of her last slipstream jump. Beka would stare down at the city, big and dirty, at the thousands, millions of hovercars that sped past in an hour, the changing billboards and neon ads, scrolling words in a kanji system that looked vaguely familiar.
It had taken her a long time to get used to the accent and.offish vernacular that these people spoke with. She reacted with violence, at first, of course. They had just as hard a time understanding her, so they locked her up in this lab until they figured out that she really was sort of harmless, outnumbered and without weapons. They still wanted to make sure she wasn't part of some bigger external threat.
The city now was dark, black, light up on the edges by neon lights and flashing billboards, headlights and taillights and reflective clothing. It glowed from the center, and when Beka couldn't sleep she would huddle in the same corner and stare at the glowing center of the massive city, far below her, until she got lost in it's murky yellowness and snapped back, suddenly engulfed with the same fear that had spiked in her when the Andromeda was.
There was a glass mug on the counter, the counter that was usually spotless and immaculate. A scrap of paper lay next to it, scribbled with a message in a runic, almost ancient looking script. Beka could read it, anyway.
Missed you today, Bek. It read. Thought you'd be done by the time I got in, but I guess those suits are even longer-winded than I imagined.
Beka allowed herself a genuine smile. At least, in Casey, she had one honest friend here.
Barrister Wilkinson is awesome, tho, Casey went on in her note. He's gotten me out of more trouble than you can imagine being in. Believe me. I hope I'll get to see you tomorrow, we can chat then. I left you some herbal tea, it'll help you sleep. Use the Bunsen burner to heat some water. Later- Casey.
There was a small blackish teabag inside the mug and Beka filled a large beaker with water, turning on a small flame and allowing it to boil. She stared at the flame and wrapped her skinny arms around herself, let out a long, shaky breath, and tried not to think of the Andromeda.
---
The stucco white corridor and courtyard outside his room looked so much more spectacular now that he wasn't so fevered. A small smile almost graced Harper's face when Tyr carried him out into the open hallway, a light breeze caressing his not-too-sweaty hair, ruffling through his breezy white slave garment.
"Remember what I told you, boy," Tyr almost growled.
"What?" Harper retorted, irritated.
"About being humble. Not making a scene. You're already making a fool of me."
Harper scowled and, without realising it, rested his head against Tyr's shoulder, still perilously tired. "I'm still sick, you know." He said softly.
"I know. But we do what we must to survive." He propped Harper up a little, more violently than was necessary, and Harper bit back a complaint. "That is Lord Amasai," Tyr pointed quickly at a man standing in the centre of the group of dark people congregating in the center of the courtyard, a plethora of pale ghosts lurking in the shadows, literally. "He is the people's elected leader of this country." Tyr said the sentence with disdain, like the mundane politics of such a primitive planet were beneath him. "Casiija has several enemies, mostly to the north. Which, incidentally, is where they raided all their slaves from." Harper would've flinched if he had the energy. Tyr sounded more and more angry every minute he had to spend in this distasteful rule of slave-master, and he sounded like he was trying very hard to keep a tight rein on it.
"Elected leader?" Harper tried to keep up. After his exhausting breakfast with Lim, he wasn't up for an entire day of waiting around on Tyr. Bleugh.
"There is a King, who lives in a palace in the town not far from here. He is only a child." Surprisingly, Tyr didn't spit it out this time. "Somebody has always had control of the land in his lieu, since he was a baby, when his father died. It was another lord before Amasai. A few months later, he was murdered. And Lord Amasai has been leader ever since."
Oh.
"How is that elected?"
Tyr sighed and, if it were possible, rolled his eyes. "Don't even bother worrying about it. It's none of your concern."
Harper's lip curled a little at this. While it was true that the inner scandals of politics were probably the last thing he should be concerning himself with - especially when he still forgot not to look his betters in the eye - he hated to be treated like such a simpleton.
Tyr stopped and stepped towards the edge of the corridor, leaning so that Harper was almost sitting on the banister overlooking the courtyard. "That is Lady Geeia." He said, pointing again at a tall, elegant lady in the centre of the proceedings. "She is Okasha's twin sister. She is very much.like him."
"She likes you," Harper said with just a hint of teasing in his voice.
Something that could have been a sigh left Tyr's body. "So the slave gossip has already reached you," He said wearily. "It's.purely physical."
Harper laughed. "What the hell else did you think it was?"
Tyr glared up at Harper. "She's not going to hinder our leaving this place." He said with conviction.
"I know," Harper said softly, dropping his gaze and staring at his splint and swollen foot. "I was just.having some fun."
There was a long, weighted pause. "Good," Tyr said, eventually, and Harper wondered what that could mean.
There was an outside staircase that they took down into the courtyard, huge, green, ethereal blossoms coming up to greet them, pink and yellow flowers blooming and fragrant and lighting up the courtyard with colour.
The sky was a staggering blue and went on forever, and endless stretch punctuated only by the quivering white sun high in the center.
As soon as Tyr stepped out of the shade of the white stucco walls, Harper felt like he was going to die. Sunlight hit his skin directly and he screwed his eyes shut, burying his head again, unashamedly, into Tyr's dark shoulder. His entire body spiked out in gooseflesh in the heat, hot shivers, he stared sweating almost instantaneously and he honestly didn't know how long he could hold out. He had gotten used to the heat radiating off the shaded white stucco, but this was unbearable.
It was the sort of heat you could see rising off the ground and on the skin of others, the heat you could breathe into your body and wear on your back. Drawing from experience, Harper knew if he spent more than five minutes in this direct sunlight, he was going to be felled for a long time coming.
"I know," Tyr said comfortingly as Harper whimpered unconsciously. He turned quickly and Harper found himself in the starkly cool shade, sighing contentedly. "Remember to stay out of the sun. In your condition, it will harm you greatly."
Harper almost gave Tyr a snide remark, but he looked at the older man's weary, commanding face and bit the inside of his cheek. He sighed and carefully leaned against the cool white wall so he didn't fall right over.
"I know you are tired," Tyr continued. "I want nothing more than for you to heal properly so we can leave this godforsaken rock. I do not want you to exert yourself too much while we are out here."
"Well, if that's the case, couldn't you just-" Whatever Harper was about to suggest, it was cut off when Tyr clamped a hand down over the boy's mouth.
His eyes were wide with warning as he muttered: "What did I tell you? Silence."
Tyr dropped his grip of Harper's mouth and the boy bit his lip a little, and then dropped his gaze, if only to stop staring into those troubled dark eyes, trying to forget the feel of the Nietzschean's hand splayed across his face.
Representative Okasha had come up behind Tyr at some point, with is sister Lady Geeia. He made a big show of introducing Harper as "The General's spoilt little pet," and the Lady absolutely loved it.
"Oh, he's adorable!" She said, pinching Harper's cheeks. Pinching! Harper, at Tyr's pantomimed cue, smiled weakly and tried to look away as quickly as possible. "And how do you like your master, little one?"
"He's shy," Tyr supplied again, thankfully.
"Aww.leave it to you, General Anasazi, to take such a shy little thing under your protection."
Oh, this was too good. Harper risked a glance through lowered lids at Tyr's uncomfortable reaction.
"That's.kind of you to say." Tyr took one involuntary step back from the wealthy woman's gaze.
Representative Okasha broke up the uncomfortable scenario when he laughed heartily and presented Harper with a crude crutch he had just cut down from one of the trees in the courtyard. He made a show of the bruises he obtained on his arms and back when he fell out of the tree, amid his sister's giggles.
"This is so you no longer have to burden your master carrying you around like a black prince," He said, jovially, not realising just how much his words offended the engineer.
"Th-thanks," Harper said slowly, remembering that he was supposed to be shy, looking determinedly at the ground and not at the Representative's face.
"Polite, albeit spoiled." Okasha said with laughter in his voice. "Come, Tyr, the Lord Amasai wishes to speak to us." He said the state leader's name with just the slightest hint of bitterness. Harper barely heard it, so intent was he with studying the green, green grass that stuck out from under his flimsy sandal.
Tyr gave Harper one last warning, not unfriendly glance, and followed the Representative and his sister slowly to where Lord Amasai was seated near a grove of trees with several other highly decorated individuals.
Lord Amasai was the colour of rum in coffee, and his skin shone in the heat but did not gleam with sweat. He was by no means a big man, but emanated a power in his slenderness and impressive height. He was just as tall as Tyr, if not taller- Harper couldn't judge from this distance.
Panga, her black-black hair swept back into a loose half-ponytail, was laying a wide chart over a table on the grass. So pale was her skin that Harper couldn't tell where she ended and her slave garment began. She looked like a little pearl rolled in from of the ocean, nestled into the green, pink, and yellow courtyard, outnumbered and dwarfed by her dark counterparts in their lavish costumes.
She looked up, as if she felt Harpers eyes on hers, and looked back at him for just a second. He almost thought she was going to give him a friendly smile but there was something else there- pity? -and then she turned back to her work, working her jaw unconsciously like she had just seen something that disturbed her.
Then Harper made the mistake of letting his gaze wander to the whisky eyes of Lord Amasai.
So startled was the skinny Earthen engineer that he didn't realize he was committing the previously proclaimed grave offense of looking directly into the nobleman's face. Lord Amasai smiled faintly, his eyes hard and bitter, and a shiver ran down Harper's spine. It wasn't until Lord Amasai blinked, almost laughingly, that Harper realized what he had been doing and dropped his gaze to the ground, again.
It occurred to Harper that he had a crick in his neck from staring at the ground. He sighed miserably and rubbed his neck ineffectually.
"Hey!" A friendly voice spooked him out of his already spooked reverie, and he looked up to see Lim in the shade next to him, playing with his fingertips in the same way he had half an hour before. "What are you doing right now?"
"Standing here talking to you, why?" Harper was suddenly very tired, if it was possible on top of the exhaustion he felt before.
Lim rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Don't be a smart ass. I mean does your master need you for anything? Because I'm done with the dishes and there's something I want to show you."
Harper hazarded a glance back to the small congregation near the grove of trees, and thankfully the Lord with the hard whisky eyes wasn't looking at him this time. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "I'm still sick. I'm just supposed to stay here."
"Oh, where's the fun in that?" Lim went around to Harper's left side, where the crutch wasn't, and took his arm the way Beka sometimes walked with Trance.
Out of blue, Harper was very homesick. He closed his eyes and only opened them again when he felt Lim's tug on his arm.
"Come on, it's totally wicked," Lim said, and he took Harper towards one of the inconspicuous entrances in the courtyard wall.
When Tyr had a chance to look up from the charts and check to see how Harper was doing, the boy was gone, and Tyr wondered when he would realize that Harper never obeyed instructions.
--
Harper was tired and aching, but it didn't matter how many times he protested, Lim didn't stop leading him up and down through the estate's impressive kitchens until they had found Panga, who had gone back to her own quarters and was looking sadly out the window when they entered.
Then the excitable boy had led both of them, arms linked, one on each side, out the estate on the opposite side of the forest and ocean, opposite of where Harper had tried to escape earlier. He simply walked out of the building nonchalantly, chattering constantly the entire time.
The heat affected Harper almost instantly, and he saw the sweat drenching down the slave garments of his companions. He started to lag almost right away, and when he did gather the strength to look up at Panga, she rolled her eyes and jerked her head at Lim, and stopped walking.
"Lim, slow down. Zay's still too sick for this."
"Oh, what?" Lim turned around and scowled, crossing his arms. "Come on, Zaymus. You can fool your master but you can't fool me."
"Who's fooling? I'm seriously sick." Harper scowled. "It's fucking hot! How can you stand it?"
"Come on, Lim." Panga went on like Harper hadn't even opened his mouth. "Let's just go back. We're going to get heat fever."
"Oh, come on, you guys, you have to see this! Please? It'll be totally worth it!" Lim actually stomped his foot at the beginning of that sentence, clasping his hands and looking up at Panga with soft, impressionable eyes. "I promise, when we get back home I'll make you both coconut ice."
"Fine," She had said, and Harper had sighed, but while Lim skipped ahead, still talking on and on about nothing, she lingered back with him.
After a long while, she said: "Do you need help?"
"With what?"
"Walking. Can you use that leg at all?"
"No."
"No, you can't use that leg, or no you don't need help?"
"No to both," He smiled up at her, but the effect was lost with his sweaty, red, still-bruised face. "I have a crutch, I'm fine. It's just..it's hot. Is all."
"It gets hot during the day, we're not..we shouldn't be out this close to noon. I'm going to burn." She sighed, and Harper looked at her sidelong, but it wasn't a pouty, self-centered sigh. "My mistress is kind, though. She won't care. Will the General?"
"Huh?" It took Harper a while to remember he was supposed to be playing the part of slave. "Oh. Well.I'm sick. So."
"Yeah," Panga undid her hair and ran her hands through it a little, and Harper was struck by the void blackness of it, and she quickly straightened it did it up again, all without taking her eyes off the beaten path in the grass before her.
The rolling fields stretched on forever in all directions. On the horizon, one could see the low homesteads of farmers, and their fenced off chunks of land. On the other side, behind them, was Amasai's impressive estate and beyond that, glimmering, past a small forest of dark green trees, was the ocean.
The vegetation on this side of the estate was sparse, sandy, sharp blades of grass here and there, and very low shrubby bushes. A low, twisted, misshapen tree spotted the land here and there, and Harper thought he saw a pride of golden animals in the distance, but it was too far to tell. The heat rising off the land made everything wavy. Harper lagged behind even more.
"Come on, you guys!" Lim called from where he knelt by a low tree a distance from them. Eventually they caught up and Lim wrung his hands giddily, staring down at the little hole dug in at the base of the tree.
It was full of four, scrambling, mewling little animals, something that looked but didn't quite sound like kittens.
"Oh." Panga let out a low sound, barely audible, and probably not voluntary. Harper collapsed in the tree's shade and sighed, not caring about the little animals at all.
"Aren't they cool? I found them last night when I went looking for my ball." Lim held one up to Panga, and she took it in her hands, her unattractive green eyes unblinking.
Harper watched the kitten scramble about on Panga's undelighted hand with disinterest, too tired and hot and sick to care.
"Do you think my master will let me keep them? In the kitchen or something?"
"I don't think so," Panga said, not unkindly. "They must have a mother or something."
Their mother was mauled by the bigger cats out here, Harper heard a familiar voice. He looked up, snapping his eyes open, confused. Trance?
Geez, it was hot! He must be mental-miraging or something. He was tired.
"I think their mother must've abandoned them," Lim said. "Well, I don't care. I'm taking at least one." He looked up at Harper. "Do you want one, Zay? I bet your master would let you have a pet."
Harper was going to answer, but instead, he coughed. He curled up a little in the shade and thought about having a nap here.
"Are you all right, Zay?" Lim asked, but he was more concerned with the mewling kitten in his hands.
"M'fine," Harper said tiredly.
"Well, if you guys are taking one, I'm going to take one," Panga said, and Harper managed to crack his reddened eyes open to look at her. "I think I'll name this one Kusmin."
You could name yours after me! Harper could almost hear Trance say, and he almost smiled, until he realized just how delusional that was. He struggled to sit up, but right after he saw the most amazing thing- Panga smiling gently at her kitten- the heat got the better of him and he passed out with a hard *thud*.
---
When Harper woke up, he was cradled in Tyr's arms, hot beyond uncomfortable, and whimpering like mad. It felt like his skull was imploding. He wanted to die.
"Disrespectful, stubborn," He barley heard Tyr rambling. He saw the dizzingly blue sky spinning above Tyr's dark head. In the distance, Lim's protesting voice could be heard backgrounding Okasha's angry reprimands. The world refused to stop whirling. Harper almost retched but he really didn't want to do that all over Tyr.
Tyr grumbled something about impossible companions and ridiculous expansionism, but Harper couldn't follow his train of thought. His quarantine room was remarkably cool and breezy, and Harper sighed audibly when they got inside there, the oppressive heat of the outside finally lifted. His skin was already blistering anew. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
Tyr undid the complicated ties of Harper's garment and sandals, and helped him out of the virgin white gown with surprising gentleness, laying Harper's abused, burned body down in the pristine sheets, propping his splinted leg up again. He was about to go off on another tirade of verbal abuse when he realized Harper had already fallen into a fitful sleep.
The Nietzschean rubbed his face and leaned his elbows on the billow white pallet, and allowed himself a moment to rest and think and listen to Harper's laboured breathing. Then they would be expecting him in the dining hall for the noon meal.
He gaze Harper one last lingering, almost protective, gaze before he closed the door on the cool white room. He almost stepped on the underfoot slaves who were waiting outside.
The boy, Okasha's servant, stuttered and wrung his hands nervously. The girl, Geeia's servant, who was holding a small bowl full of what could have passed as ice cream, rolled her eyes and looked right up into Tyr's eyes, defiantly.
"Lim promised that he'd bring Zay coconut ice," She said, simply.
Tyr didn't respond right away, there was something in her unattractive green eyes that demanded his full attention. "He's asleep." He said, finally. The girl nodded. She tugged at the boy's gown a little and they scampered off, silently.
Tyr took another moment to gather his thoughts, curse his luck, and then he walked down to the dining hall.