A/N: As Brigidforest commented after the last chapter: So close, and yet, so far.

I mean, we all know where this ends up, right?

It's my job to tell you how it gets there, and we've only scratched the surface of that tale. In other words, we aren't even up to the eyecatch and the commercial break yet.

I promise not to bore you if you promise to stick with me... 'Cause as far as I'm concerned, this is the fun part. Thanks, as always, for reading.

***

XI. The New Guard

The last of the red Martian sunset faded to gray as Spike waved farewell to Julia. He couldn't get past Annie on the way back to his room – even though he came in through the kitchen entrance, she called his name in a tone that brooked no refusal. He opened the storeroom door, and she turned on her stool to look him up and down.

"What've you got there?" She eyed the hangers he held over his shoulder.

"New suits. Got shot through all the other ones."

She frowned at him. "You should stop that."

"Well, according to the Van, I'll have more need of nice clothes than ammunition."

"I heard about that from Mao this afternoon," she replied. "He promoted you. That's wonderful."

Spike stopped to think. "I hadn't considered it that way, but I guess you're right."

"You hadn't considered it that way? Spike, come down to the planet with the rest of us. You're commanding a team beside Vicious, directly under Mao. You've leapfrogged a half-dozen older men, you and Vicious both."

He smirked. "Always knew it would happen. It's in my blood."

"Spike." Her tone was grave, and it gave him pause. "There are a lot of things in your blood. Remember them, so you don't have to live through them all yourself."

"Annie, you worry too much," he said lightly. "This is the new Syndicate. We sit around and make deals and drink tea."

She didn't reply.

"And it's going to bore me insane," he added, turning to go.

"Is that why you're inventing more trouble for yourself?"

He stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Vicious came looking for you and Julia about an hour ago. You should call him."

He faced her, and she saw the shadow of worry cross his features. "What did he say?"

"You know Vicious. He never says what he really means. He just asked if you two had come back, and when you left."

Nodding, he turned again. "I'll talk to him."

He hung the new suits and shirts in the closet, admiring them not only for their quality, but because Julia approved. He was eager to get the fifth one, to wear it when he saw her. He felt an almost adolescent thrill that she'd know he did it for her, tempered immediately by the thought of calling Vicious. No use stalling, he thought. Get it over with.

When Vicious answered, Spike could see he was at Julia's apartment. He offered only a curt "Hello?" Spike took a deep breath and said, "Annie said you came looking for me."

The gray eyes narrowed. "I wanted to talk to you about our selections for tomorrow morning."

Spike was about to say he agreed with Britt as a choice, but thought better of letting on that he and Julia had discussed it at all. "I'm meeting Lin tonight," he finally said. "He's a good marksman and cool-headed. Plus, he's got that air of aristocrat that's usually your shtick."

Vicious didn't react. "I've chosen Marcus Britt; I spoke to him this afternoon. I believe we should all meet before we make our announcements tomorrow morning, to make sure everyone is prepared to work together."

"Have you talked to Mato?"

"No. I thought you could."

"Why me?" Spike asked, but he knew.

"Mao will be less suspicious if the invitation comes from you."

Spike cocked an eyebrow at the camera. "What would he have to be suspicious of?"

"Haven't you heard anything he has said in the past few days? He leaves decisions to you without direction, but he gives me orders as if I were the most junior of all of us." The bitterness was evident in his voice.

"You don't think that has anything to do with you constantly wanting to do an end-run around the Van's orders?"

Vicious shook his head. "No, I do not."

At that moment, Spike longed for a cheaper comm., one without a camera. He did his best to keep the cold in the pit of his stomach from showing on his face. If Vicious knew he'd spoken to Mao about Julia, he would see it as betrayal, and Spike couldn't help either the guilt or the dread that welled up at the thought. "You challenged him this morning," he finally said.

"He seems to think my judgment is clouded. Why would my having a different opinion than the Van make him think I would be a liability?"

"Do you hear yourself?" Spike asked, glad to still be on the subject of politics. "You can't disagree with the Van and be loyal. They're mutually exclusive."

"Disobeying the Van would be disloyal. But I did not rise to my position by having no opinion, or by keeping it to myself," Vicious shot back. "Something has given Mao the impression he needs to keep tabs on me."

Spike frowned. "We just got a promotion," he began cautiously, trying to think a few sentences ahead. "That hardly suggests he questions either of our judgment. In fact, I'd say he just wants to be sure you aren't going to take the added power and run with it."

"And we both know you side with him on that point."

"We both know that's only half true." With a sigh, Spike tried to head off the fight that was brewing. "I don't like this assignment any more than you do. I don't like being a drug dealer. I'd rather be kicking the asses of street thugs who step out of line than helping them spread filth."

"This is a late hour for you to grow a social conscience," Vicious replied, but the jab seemed half-hearted.

"It's nothing new, damn it. Why do you think I let you handle the buying and selling? My job has always been to protect you and the rest of our people."

Vicious nodded. "Well, now our job is to enforce the agreement. Are you saying you do not want the assignment?"

Spike groaned, leaning back on the couch. "Did those words come out of my mouth?"

"No," Vicious replied, "But if you are thinking them, perhaps you should say them."

"Don't take your problems with Mao out on me," Spike snapped. "I'll talk to Lin and Mato and get back to you with a time to meet."

"I'll be waiting." Vicious seemed about to say something else, but shook his head and disconnected.

***

Vicious could feel Julia watching him throughout the conversation, and although he didn't mind her being privy, he hoped she wouldn't ask about it. He had so far been unable to put his suspicion to rest - that Mao knew about the night at Henshai's, and what followed after the battle. What Spike said made more sense than he wanted to admit, but the feeling that everyone knew what he was thinking simply would not go away.

Worst of all, he didn't know which of his closest confidants might have broached the subject. Spike was closer to Mao, but Julia seemed more likely to seek his counsel, especially after she'd drawn the real purpose of Spike's visit out during the flight home from Ganymede. He cursed himself again for letting anger at Spike get the better of his instincts. Now he'd have to try and draw information out of Julia, and he knew it would not be simple.

He decided on an indirect approach, and smiled up at her as she came back from the kitchen. "Mao sends his regards. I told him about your skillful handling of Manfred. He was most impressed."

She sat beside him and nodded, but took the opening far from the direction he'd intended. "Really? Did you tell him I outwitted you as well as Manfred?"

"I... did not tell him that I expected you would go through with what Manfred was promised."

"Or that you promised it to him, I suppose?" Her tone was conversational, but Vicious found himself in the distasteful position of being the one interrogated all the same.

"I thought we had resolved this," he countered.

"To my satisfaction, yes. But if he's figured out that you set the mission up as you did, and that I had to find my own way to accomplish it, that might explain a few things."

Vicious willed himself to match her calm. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Not in a week. This is the first I've heard he knew the details. I have no desire to talk to anyone about it, myself." She took his hand. "You included. Look, I'm sure Spike is right. Mao just wants to be sure you're going to do what he's asking, since he recommended you."

"Why would anyone think my actions would reflect poorly on Mao or anyone else in the Syndicate?" He glowered at her, but she just shook her head.

"I think Spike and I both have good reason to keep an eye on you, but perhaps the fact that you've done plenty without the Van's permission lately is making you feel more eyes on you than there really are."

Her words cut to the quick of his fears, and he lashed back. "Did you enjoy your outing with Spike today?" He didn't hide his dark expression as well as he intended, and Julia gave him a hard look in return.

"Yes, I did. Mostly because we didn't discuss any of this. It's not like I have a gaggle of girlfriends to pal around with. I had fun going shopping like a normal person, for once."

"We are not normal people, Julia." Vicious let go of her hand and stood. "The sooner you stop playing at it, the easier it will be for you to accept."

She folded her arms across her chest. "If you're going to order me around, you'd better have an assignment for me. Otherwise, what I do with my time is my choice."

"Don't be a child," he snapped as he collected his coat.

"Don't treat me like one," she retorted.

He gave her a scathing look, hand on the doorknob, and opened his mouth twice before settling on saying, "I have business to attend to," and storming out.

***

Spike put his boots up on the glass coffee table and settled back in his armchair. "Go on," he told Mato, "Make yourself comfortable. They didn't give me an office, so I took this one."

Mato laughed longer and louder than was necessary. He, Spike, Lin and Lao waited in the dim light of the Syndicate library for Vicious and Marcus to arrive. Spike barely knew Lao; he was the son of Sou Long and ten years older than the rest of them. He suspected Mato had received even more guidance than Vicious when it came to the selection of his second.

Lin watched the group from an ottoman close to the fireplace, his body relaxed and his expression blank. Like Spike, he was a trained fighter and a third-generation Red Dragon, and they'd talked about their roles and intentions before anyone else arrived. He stood when the door opened and Vicious came through, followed by Marcus.

"Lao!" Vicious bowed and shook his hand; Spike admired the restraint he showed, since he'd expected a bit of an explosion when Mato's partner was revealed to be another son of the senior leadership.

With pleasantries out of the way, Lao turned to Spike. "For what purpose have we gathered this evening?"

Spike waved a hand at Vicious. "The guy who wanted the meeting can answer that."

Vicious shot him a sideways glare and then pointedly ignored him throughout the rest of his speech. "I wanted all of us to meet, to be certain we all understand what we are expected to do, to ensure we are all comfortable with our positions, and to prevent any surprises amongst ourselves tomorrow morning when we meet with the Van.

"I feel certain all of us have misgivings about this assignment, whether they be concerns about the configuration of the group, or the nature of the agreement between the Red Dragon and White Tiger, or the involvement of the ISSP in the affairs of the Syndicates. We must all function as a unit, regardless of those misgivings. You must begin with the core of your loyalty to the Red Dragon, and build your actions upon it."

Lao held up a hand. "You sound as though you are trying the hardest to convince yourself, Vicious."

Spike looked from one man to the other, knowing that Lao's family name and age were the only things keeping him from the sharp end of a katana. He was surprised when Vicious gave a single nod and responded.

"I have made no secret of my desire to shut down the White Tiger, and this course of action will prolong its life. All the same, if we must lessen the violence in order to ensure we can strengthen our business holdings, I understand the validity of the assignment."

Spike switched his crossed legs to keep his knees from going numb. "Looking around here, I think it's obvious Mato and Lao will be the 'speaking mouth' most often," he interjected. "Vicious and I, as well as our seconds, are better suited for keeping the peace, if you know what I mean."

Marcus spoke for the first time that evening. "This sounds like a whole lot of down time."

"Provided both Syndicates stick to the plan, it will be," Lao replied. "The job we all have, I believe, is to keep our eyes and ears open and make certain the White Tiger does not attempt to form alliances with landowners or other factions who previously felt no loyalty to any side."

Spike looked over at Lin, who was staring out the window. He tried to stifle a smile, and then a yawn, while all six men sat in silence.

"Hey," Spike offered, "Let's make this quick. Anybody want out?"

Glances were exchanged, but no one moved or spoke.

"Good. Anybody have a problem with anybody here?"

"I..." Mato stood, and they all rounded on him. "I just want to say that I am in the best company of any assignment I've ... had."

Spike laughed, thinking it was the only assignment he'd ever 'had', but knowing better than to say it. "The last thing I want to know is, did anybody get a raise for taking this bullshit project on?"

They all looked at him, then around at each other – but no one seemed to know what he meant. He raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Well, I just wanted to make sure I didn't get the short end of the stick."

Vicious stood. "We will convene with the Van at eleven tomorrow morning. If they have more specific instructions for us, we will receive them then. Thank you for coming."

***

Spike trudged down the sidewalk, taking a detour around the building before he headed back to Annie's to allow the other men time to disperse. He still clung to the last vestiges of his pleasant afternoon with Julia, and after the meeting, he feared any more conversation with Syndicate men about Syndicate business would erase that altogether.

Lost in thought, and assuming he'd distanced himself from the others, he jumped when a voice called out, "Mr. Spiegel!" He had his Jericho out and had dropped to a crouch without thinking, looking around with the sight of the pistol as his guide until he spotted a figure in an overcoat and hat standing on the other side of a chain link fence. He couldn't remember what the locked lot was, and rose cautiously, weapon still aimed, as he crossed the alley.

"Nobody calls me 'mister'," Spike replied as he sidestepped, relaxing only when he had his back against the brick wall of the building where the fence attached.

The man in the overcoat spoke clearly, but did not turn. "I do not know you well enough to simply call you 'Spike'. But I have recently completed half of a business transaction with you."

Spike raised an eyebrow warily. "The financial half, I assume?"

The hat nodded. "An advance payment. A token of our appreciation, for your willingness to overlook a greater quantity of Red Eye in circulation than the Red Dragon has seen fit to make available."

"How did you get into my bank account?" Spike moved closer to the man, hands back in his jacket pockets with the Jericho's safety off and the trigger half-depressed.

"I did not. A Red Dragon arranged the transfer for me."

"Bullshit." Spike turned, trying to see the man's face, but the hat cast a sharp shadow over it in the harsh streetlight.

"An irrational response. You have the additional funds, do you not? How else would you have gotten it?"

"Well, it was a waste of your money," Spike replied. "I had plenty of it before you gambled on me."

"You do not understand. You may face serious repercussions at the hands of your own family members if you do not complete your half of the transaction."

Spike pushed off of the fence, noting the man tensed at the movement but still did not turn so he could be seen. "Look. There's nothing you can give me that I want. I have no interest in helping out the White Tiger, but I'll take the money as payment for what your Syndicate already owes me. Go on home and tell your handlers you made a lousy patsy, before I kill you."

"My Syndicate is the supplier of the funds. It is your Syndicate that authorized the payment. To my knowledge, we owed you nothing."

Without taking his hands from his pockets, Spike fired a round into the cement at the man's feet. "Careful," he said as the figure retreated into the shadow of the locked parking lot. "I could have put an eye out with that."

He laughed to himself, in spite of the strange situation, as he made his way on down the sidewalk toward Annie's. He'd wanted to say that to a White Tiger for years.