Earth
Palace of Queen Rafflesia II
More precisely… her bedchamber.
Cleo ran her hands along the broad, muscular back of the man poised above her, bracing his hands alongside her shoulders, until her fingers found the sensitive skin in the dimple at the base of his spine. The contraction that stimulated sent him deeper inside, and she arched her back to take him. She smiled into dark brown eyes that were almost - though not entirely - obscured by a tousled fall of golden hair, a dramatic contrast to his turquoise blue skin.
'Wicked, wicked wench,' he said softly, leaning closer to capture her lips with his. 'I should just haul you back to my harem…'
'Try it,' she replied dryly, 'And just see how quickly your diplomatic overtures fall apart…'
He laughed, and the effort brought them both to a swift conclusion to the leisurely hour they'd spent. Unlike a lot of men she'd known, he didn't uncouple immediately, but took his time, murmuring something incomprehensible in his own language as he eased free of her, still trailing light kisses and playing a symphony with his fingers on her pale skin. 'If only all diplomatic missions were so pleasurable…'
'I think your particular area of expertise would be somewhat wasted on Promethium,' Cleo said with a bell-like laugh. 'Or that pompous, sadistic green bastard with the furry eyebrows. I, however, will not yield my requests for aid in your galaxy simply because you are a delight in both the bedroom and around the dinner table.'
'Your description of Zworder might just make Talan's day... ' he replied with a smile. 'I must remember to quote you on that.'
That smile had a way of making his handsome face seem innocently boyish. He could - and frequently did when it suited him - pass himself off as a man in his late twenties or early thirties, but could add at least two decades onto that that she knew of, and she suspected the truth was somewhat higher. He was, however, a man who liked to keep everyone - even friends - guessing, and his playful demeanour hid a ruthless determination often only tempered by a fierce loyalty to those friends, and to his own people. 'Ben… whilst I appreciate the personal visit, you could have conducted this over the warp - or sent a representative.'
'Promethium gets a representative,' he told her, cupping one small breast in a large blue hand, then rolling the nipple gently between finger and thumb until it peaked, taut and needy. 'You, my dear Cleome, deserve my full and undivided attention… Besides - it amuses me that it winds Talan up to breaking point when I go wandering. Last message he sent over the warp he was almost babbling… in between dire warnings of insurrections and rebellion if I didn't head back home instantly, and warnings of assassinations and other dark deeds aimed at my imperially majestic person.'
'Is he right?'
'He over-reacts. It's his only flaw. I've got three body-doubles for personal appearances, and a highly competent staff who know how to handle things. I pay all of them an extortionate amount, and in all honesty Talan could do the job just as well if he were so inclined. Besides, since they never know when I'll be back looking over their shoulders, everyone tends to behave themselves.
'So trusting…'
Since he wasn't sure if she meant him or his advisors, he went with the former on principle. 'I reward loyalty and competence. The penalty for everything else isn't worth it. Besides - I'm adorable, I take care of my people, and would - and have - put my own life on the line for them and they know it.' At her raised eyebrow he smiled enigmatically. 'Oh. You're thinking I must be horrendously naive…?'
'I'm thinking you're either that, or so terrifyingly good at what you do, that your confidence isn't misplaced… and if that's the case, I'd really hate to be your enemy.'
'Funnily enough, I get that a lot.' He kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off the bed, reaching for his pants, where they'd landed on the floor earlier. 'I learned the hard way how not to rule.' He handed her a length of blue chiffon.
'And now I'm wondering where you learned your negotiating style,' she teased, taking her chiton from him. She stood gracefully, and let him arrange it around her with as much care and attention as any of her handmaids.
'That,' he said, placing a kiss on the base of her neck, 'is entirely self-taught.' He took the hairbrush from her side table and began to brush her waist length hair with delicate, well-practiced strokes. 'How effective it is remains to be seen once we leave here and adjourn to the negotiating table.'
'A pity,' she said lightly. 'Once we leave this room we have to become Rafflesia and Dessler again…'
'Always give the audience what they expect to see,' he told her. 'Even the Mazone are not immune to the civilised niceties. The fact that we're both capable of reaching an amicable agreement without the mindless tedium and fluttering of various committees around to clutter up the sordid business seems to pass said committees by…' He coiled her hair into a simple but elegant wreath around her head. 'There. Though I have to admit, I rather like the idea of my cabinet having to deal with yours... '
'I'd put my money on mine, to coin a human phrase,' she replied with a cheeky smile.
'So would I - the rampant testosterone generated by my generals wouldn't last five minutes when faced with that sea of smart, beautiful women. In fact, if you ever want to swap…' he continued, plastering a soulful look on his face. She rolled her eyes.
'Your bed, you lie on it,' she told him. She sat back down on the edge of the bed and watched with unashamed interest whilst he finished dressing. A powder blue silk shirt contrasted beautifully with both his dark blue breeches and his turquoise blue skin. Having pulled his boots on he reached for the dark blue cloak that went over the ensemble, and she helped him with the heavy folds, clipped into place over his left shoulder. She noticed he left the stiff, military jacket over the back of the bench it had landed on, in favour of allowing that light shirt to expose an impressive amount of muscular chest. Playing to an audience indeed... She snorted silently and handed him his gunbelt, fastening it around his waist and settling it against his slim hips. The gun in the holster she recognised with a start as one of the Arcadia's Cosmo Dragoons. 'I'm amazed he let you keep that,' she said.
He smiled wolfishly. 'Actually he sent it after I went back home. Not, I should add, without a good deal of bitching about me playing him for a fool for several years…' He plucked a flower from the tall plant next to the door and sniffed. 'Fragrant.'
'A rose.'
He placed it in his cloak's shoulder pin with a smile. 'I thought they were extinct.'
'They will be if you keep pulling off their genitals and using them for decoration,' she replied tartly. 'Harlock's here,' Cleo told him as they walked towards the curtain of water which separated her private quarters from the rest of the newly established nemeton.
'I know.'
'Were you planning…'
'Not especially. He can get a little… tetchy… when my name comes up in conversation. I'm not sure what his problem is - I didn't lie to him as such, and I did make myself useful…'
'...whilst you used the Arcadia as a way of mopping up a major trafficking operation that was kidnapping and selling your citizens in other galaxies?' she finished sweetly for him. 'Ben - on a personal level, I like you a lot. But there are times you excel at - as Harlock put it - being something of a manipulative dick.'
'Part of my charm,' he replied, and took her hand, bowing over it hand lightly brushing his lips over first the back, then turning it over and doing the same to the palm, causing her to take a sharp breath. He offered his arm. 'Shall we?' The curtain of water parted as they passed through, to be met on the other side by a breathless little epimeliad, red-haired and applecheeked.
'My queen.' She curtseyed. 'There's a message on the intergalactic warp feed for His Majesty…'
Dessler sighed. 'Work, work, work… Can it wait?'
'It's from someone called "Blaze" - he says it's urgent…'
He patted the sweet little mazone on the cheek. 'Never known him to make a mountain out of a molehill. I suppose I'd better take it. Can you…?'
'I'll give the delegation your apologies. I think we can allow you to be fashionably late.'
Her aide, Zinnia, sidled up to her as she watched him walk away, keeping his strides short so as not to cause the little messenger to scurry to keep up. 'Is it really wise to be so intimate with that one?'
'Wiser than not,' Cleo replied dryly.
'He plays a deep game… sometimes I'm not sure where that affable rogue stops and the emperor begins,' Zinnia replied sharply.
Cleo smiled. 'Sometimes, I think he's played both roles for so long, that neither does he…' She faced Zinnia with a smile. 'Come. It won't do for both of us to keep the delegation waiting.'
It took the Arcadia's communications officer five minutes to put him through to her captain. Whether that was standing orders, or she simply had to get him out of bed, was a tossup.
'Harlock.'
The man on the other end of the 4D commlink folded his arms across his chest covering the skull and crossbones emblazoned on the navy blue jacket. 'Ben.'
Dessler inclined his head slightly, not even trying to hide the smirk that played around the corners of his generous mouth. 'I thought you'd be pleased to see me…'
'I'm not sure why, you lying, duplicitous, blue-faced bastard.'
'I thought we were over that?'
Harlock glared at him.
'I didn't lie.'
'You didn't exactly tell the whole truth.'
'Technically…'
'To hell with technically, "Ben". I thought… we all thought, and you damn well encouraged it… that you were just some minor playboy princeling, not entirely welcome at court, slumming it on a gap year.'
Dessler shrugged. 'It was true…'
Harlock's hologramme leaned towards him. 'Ten years before we met!' He yelled into Dessler's impassive face.
The Gamilan Emperor raised a hand and waved off the accusation. 'Details, details… you know as well as I do that people will leave the envoy - or crewman - alone when they fear reprisals from either the emperor - or Captain Harlock. You do it all the time. You're just pissed it took you so long to figure it out.' He smiled wistfully. 'Besides, I rather enjoyed being just Ben. It was rather refreshing being liked for just being myself…'
'Hah. Hardly yourself…' Harlock pointed out. But he unfolded his arms and leaned on the ship's wheel. 'Is there any particular reason you felt the need to plant your smug visage in front of me after more than a year without a word? You never write, you never call…'
Dessler was hard pressed not to laugh. Harlock was too much like himself; he felt he had to make a point but wasn't going to hold a grudge for long over the trivial matters. He'd genuinely enjoyed his on-off adventures aboard Arcadia, and yes, very fleeting though it was, that was a pang for not being honest with the man from the start as to his real identity that wafted past his atrophied conscience...
Harlock sighed and shook his head. Behind him someone was stomping up the stairs to the Arcadia's main gantry. 'Is that Ben?' a familiar voice asked. A tall man, middle aged, with short fair hair and a permanent scowl stuck his face into the camera. 'Oi! You still owe me a hundred credits, you lying ponce!'
'Well if it isn't my old friend Ali... I think I'm good for it.' Dessler grinned at his former crewmate. 'Nice to see you too…' he called out as Harlock pushed his growling crewman out of the way.
'Don't bait him,' Harlock warned. 'You're not the one that has to live with him. Now what the hell needed you to use that emergency frequency l gave Cleo?' A beat. 'Why are you in her quart…. You know what - I can live without knowing that.'
'Because you weren't answering anyone's calls, and Layla Shura has been trying to contact you. Blaze's temporary setup didn't have the range, so he called the ship I've got waiting near Barnard's Star, and they called me. And since you weren't taking my calls…' Dessler leaned back in his chair and saluted with the goblet in his hand before taking a drink. 'Still sulking after your spat with the lovely commander?'
'Hardly a spat.' Harlock didn't elaborate. 'Just taking the opportunity to do some research whilst we're here, without interruptions. What does she want this time?' He peered at the bottle on the table. 'Is that one of my Bordeaux?'
Since the man owned the only store of pre-Homecoming War liquor this side of his own family's hoard, and had in fact gifted Cleo with the case, Dessler chose to treat that as a rhetorical question. 'Two ships have gone missing. Something to do with one of those little systems that float around between our galaxies.'
'So? They have an entire fleet at their disposal. I'm not Layla's lapdog. Outlaw, remember?'
'Now who's splitting hairs on the truth?' The Alliance wanted Harlock's head on a plate, as did the Machine Empire. The SDF? Tended to regard him as a bit of a nuisance but good to have around in a fight, since he tended to take an even dimmer view of actual piracy than they did and they could take the credit and dodge the blame for the results… 'The system disappeared about ten years ago, after a dark matter wave hit it. And one of the ships was the rescue mission, or so I gather.'
'Still not my problem.'
Dessler placed the goblet on the side table. 'Blaze's message was short, and it was a poor connection. He says it's a ship called the Sirius…' He genuinely did like the pirate - the convenient identity of Arcadia's "blue pirate" wasn't the only reason he'd spent so much time travelling with the man when business took him into this galaxy, so watching Harlock's normally implacable mien slip as his face lost any colour it did have under his space's pallor gave him no pleasure, and a momentary pang for being a dick. 'Harlock?'
'That's the ship Wataru was assigned to - his class were on a milk run…'
He was on his feet before Harlock had finished his sentence. 'That I didn't know. Whatever you need…'
Harlock looked at him sharply, and he replied with one short nod.
'I might take you up on that.'
'Do. I can bring a substantial portion of the Imperial Fleet to bear if you need it.'
'You'd do that?'
It tested his patience a little that Harlock needed to question that. 'For a friend? Yes.' He cut the connection before the pirate could reply, and turned to see Cleome watching him from just outside the projection area. 'I think I need to suggest a little recess for our conference,' he told her.
'You're going with him.' It was a statement, not a question.
'This planet's about halfway between our galaxies, so if there's dark matter activity there that needs my attention, I need to know, and he does have the best ship for the job.' Knowing full well she didn't buy it he smiled warmly at her. 'He is a friend, one of the few people who doesn't take any shit from me. I know where I stand with him, and he's saved my life more than once. I owe him. Also - I know those kids. It's not just Wataru on board - Rick's son Guy is in the same class.' He placed a kiss on her forehead, leaning down to do it, since he towered over her. 'I am sorry, but I will make sure Talan knows to proceed with the negotiations via warp. Just don't flirt with him too much - I don't want to come back and find he's been charmed out of half our empire…'
'I might,' she told him sweetly, 'take that as a challenge.'
'Well if you do, be prepared for me to be excessively charming when I try to persuade you to give it back.'
Watching him go she smiled to herself. 'It might even be worth it…' she murmured.
Arcadia.
Somewhere near what was once Heiligenstadt in Oberfranken, Earth
Harlock paced the length of the upper gantry of the Arcadia's main bridge and swore under his breath. 'Just how long does it take to get those engines back online?'
'I had to take the entire system offline so Maji and I could take a proper look at the systems,' Yattaran told him bluntly. 'I can't start them from cold. The dark matter feed needs to come back online slowly. It's been a month. We've got the bloody galaxy to cross. A couple of hours won't make that much difference…'
You know… there's a reason Harlock used to spend so much time in the Central computer room… Tochiro's mellow voice murmured inside his head. Pace all you want in there: no-one has to know…
'Thanks, my friend. I think they all know I'll be wearing a groove in the floor.' He looked round as the comm system chimed. 'Is that someone outside the main hangar slipway?'
From the lower bridge his newest recruit checked the feed. 'We've got someone wanting to come aboard. He has a valid crew ident… though it's an old one.'
'I thought I told you to purge that from the system?' Harlock muttered at the empty air.
Must have slipped my mind, Tochiro replied glibly over the speakers. My bad. Do we leave him outside or let him on board?
Harlock sighed and ran a hand through his already unruly hair. 'I'm tempted to send a couple of beefy ex-SDF marines to bring him to the bridge in handcuffs… Open the door, and tell him he knows the way. Knowing him he'd probably treat an escort like a bloody honour guard…'
He didn't have long to wait before Dessler… Ben… arrived on the bridge, striding up the stairs and onto the gantry and dropping into the captain's chair without so much as a by-your-leave, sweeping his cloak out of the way with studied elegance. A gloved hand reached up to stroke the bird's beak, as it stretched down from the creature's perch on the back and cawed softly at him. 'Hello there, you daft thing. Still putting up with your cranky captain?'
'You're in my chair.'
Ben looked down at the plush red upholstery, and ran an appraising hand over the skull carving under his right hand. 'It was empty. I thought I'd save you the trouble of offering me a seat. Though you could offer me a drink…'
Yattaran spluttered, saw the look on his captain's face, and decided that staring at his console was the better part of valour.
'I offer guests a drink. Not former crewmen who turn up out of the blue expecting to be let on board after going awol for five years…'
Silence. Even Yattaran held his breath, waiting for one of them to break first.
It was Harlock who gave in, scowling at the beatific amusement on the other man's face. 'This isn't a passenger liner.'
'I know. I'm more than able to work my passage.'
On the lower bridge someone choked back a snigger.
'Do you really think I can treat the ruler of half the Greater Magellanic Cloud like a common pirate?' Harlock asked. Ben shrugged.
'It's not without precedent.'
'When I thought you were an unfavourite younger son with daddy issues…'
'None of which,' Ben replied amiably, 'may I remind you, was a lie.' He stood up and offered his hand. 'If I want to be treated like an emperor, I can get that back home. Don't you start, Harlock.'
He waited, watching the flickers of different emotions cross the other man's face. Harlock could do impassive with the best of them, but that was a hard-earned skill, and for those who had the eyes to see, underneath it he was still a man whose emotions ran closer to the surface than many people guessed.
'Oh for fuck's sake captain - will you two just kiss and make up already?' Ali took the last three steps onto the gantry in one noisy leap, and leaned on the railing to stare at the tableau. 'Hell… I could sell tickets to that…' he grinned at the two men who stared at him and sighed in unison.
Harlock took the offered hand, and then pulled the other man into a quick, but heartfelt hug. 'Bastard. You have been missed.'
'Not by me!' Ali called out, waving a hand in the air. Ben pulled free of Harlock's grasp and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a small pouch and tossed it to Ali, who caught it just before it went over the edge of the railing. 'Ooh - with interest I hope?' He peered into the little bag and came up grinning. 'Good to have you back, Benny-blue!' He eyed the man from head to toe and whistled approvingly. 'Planetary despot suits you, and business must be good… nice threads…' He clicked his tongue against his teeth. 'Though… cloaks? Really? So passé these days…'
'Because holey sweaters and leather pants with unknown stains on them are de rigueur?' Ben deadpanned back.
Ali looked down and pulled a face. 'Oh man… clean on this morning…' he tugged at his green sweater, and frowned as the yarn unravelled even further.
Knowing this could go on for hours given half a chance, Harlock slapped Ben on the shoulder. 'Let's just take this one privately, shall we?'
'Does this mean I'm forgiven?'
'It means I might be persuaded to bring out something palatable instead of the paint stripper my predecessor used to save for unwanted guests… assuming Hannibal didn't launch a raid on the remaining cases.'
As a crewman he'd rarely spent any time inside the captain's private quarters, and Ben looked around with interest at the opulent expanse. 'It's a little overwhelming…'
'This from the man who lords it over half a galaxy?' Harlock gestured to one of the richly upholstered chaise-longue and busied himself at a tantalus on a heavy, baroque antique sideboard.
'I've seen your quarters on Deathshadow Island. Those… are you. Modern. Comfortable, plain but expensive. This…' He waved a hand expansively, snagging the thick crystal tumbler out of his host's hand on the way, 'is not you.' He took a sip and sighed appreciatively. 'That desk alone is over fourteen hundred years old or I'm no judge of valuable antiquities. The rest of the wooden fittings aren't far behind. It's the room of a man steeped in the past, not the here and now or the future. But you've had this ship for over twenty years, and you've never changed anything in here, have you?'
Harlock took the seat opposite and leaned back, sipping at his own goblet to savour the whiskey. 'Trying to analyse me, Ben? You told me your academic expertise was archeology and anthropology, not psychology...' he paused and narrowed his eye. 'On the other hand it turns out you were my age, not the twenty and change you let us think…'
'Can't help great skin. And the psych and anthro studies complimented each other. Really, it's not that hard to read you. You're not a man who spends his time navel-gazing and longing for the past. Even if this room was empty, you'd only have to look at the view from the windows there to see this is the room of a man who spends more time looking behind him, than ahead. The furnishings are just gilding that lily.'
'Funny… Kei said the same thing when we first got together.'
'Where is she?' Ben looked around as though expecting the tall, lovely XO to walk into the room on cue.
'Dealing with some last minute issues with the research we're conducting.'
'And once again, so economical with the truth.' Ben raised his glass. Harlock raised his visible eyebrow. 'Don't worry, I don't intend to ask what you're really up to all the way out here, incommunicado off and on for the past couple of years.'
'If you think you can finesse the details out of Cleo with your cock, forget it.'
'I'm saddened that you think I'd be that obvious. I can usually get what I want long before I need to bring out the big guns….' He smiled beatifically and Harlock snorted.
'Save the tongue jokes for the crew. Did Blaze add anything in his message that you didn't mention over the holo?'
'It was necessarily brief… technically my ship isn't supposed to be in this galaxy. I'm surprised he knew…'
'Don't be. He has the full resources of the Millennial Thieves at his disposal now.'
'So it's true? The old man finally hung up his gunbelt?'
'I wouldn't go that far. I'd call it a long overdue vacation. Cards on the table, Ben - why are you here? You didn't need to be here in person to help me out, and I'm not exactly short of deckhands. So what are you up to?'
Ben settled back in the chaise longue and took another sip of the hundred and fifty-year plus whiskey. 'Firstly, I really do care about those boys of yours. I remember the last time you had to go haring across the galaxy to find them, and I won't forget what Rafflesia did to them in a hurry. You have great kids, growing into fine young men and if Wataru's in danger, I want to help.'
'I also have a daughter…'
'I rather thought you'd prefer me not to notice?' He hid his smirk at the sharp look that earned him from Harlock's hazel eye behind the cut glass. 'But this planet is fairly close - in cosmic terms - to my backyard. The dark matter waves could be a natural phenomena, but if they're not, I'd like to know about it. And I can't send a ship to investigate because that doesn't just violate my treaty with the SDF, but could also alert anyone watching in my galaxy. And believe me, you do not want either of my two resident pains in the backside strolling over for a look…' He took another long sip, finishing the glass. Without being asked, Harlock reached for the bottle and offered a refill. 'I've got two expansionist, aggressive empires constantly nibbling away at my borders. Ones who think their green skin makes them some kind of superior race, and that my people exist for their pleasure, their amusement, and to do the work they're too proud to do. If the mechanoids are involved, I do not need an equally aggressive, expansionist and bigoted alien race squatting a short hop off the front door, as it were.'
Harlock leaned back again in his chair and stared at him. 'You don't trust me to tell you?'
'I haven't seen these things for myself yet, Harlock. Not up close and personal.'
'That's what you have advisors for… isn't it supposed to be good to be the king?'
Ben laughed harshly. 'Not so that you'd notice. Most days it's a ballache.'
'Because you don't delegate enough?'
'Neither do you.'
Harlock drained his glass in one long swallow. 'The difference is, I'm only in charge of one spaceship and a couple of hundred people at most. Anything happens to me when I go walkabout, it's no big deal except to the handful of people who care. Something happens to you, and those expansionist arseholes you're keeping occupied in your galaxy would quickly steamroller over your forces and turn their attention here. And although both the SDF and the Alliance have expanded rapidly since the Machine Wars, they couldn't fight off the Bolar Empire, The Illumidas and any shit Promethium would pull once she saw an opportunity… Not to mention I'd have Talan putting a target on my back so big even I'd have nowhere to hide.'
'And you think this universe is big enough to save me from Kei if anything happened to you because of me?'
They toasted each other silently. This time Ben refilled the glasses. Harlock regarded him over the rim of his glass not wholly unguardedly. 'You know… it might be a little embarrassing for Wataru to have his father come running to his rescue. I'm not sure his self-esteem would survive the Gamilan Emperor as well…'
'We aren't rushing to his rescue. We're answering a call for help to rescue two missing ships and their crews, plus checking out a potential metanoid base between two galaxies.'
'Excellent sophistry,' Harlock drawled. 'Now I know how you sleep at night.'
'Actually that would be a choice of twenty-five very lovely young women and six very handsome young men.'
Harlock's spit take at least landed on the rug. 'Even I can work that one out without taking my shoes and socks off. That's one from every colony…'
Ben smiled enigmatically and nodded.
'Your harem is made up of your hostages?'
'Tribute,' Ben corrected him. 'Volunteers only, I only take the best and brightest, and they only serve for two years, after which, if they prove worthy, the rewards include full citizenship, and postings suited to their talents.'
Harlock's headshake could have indicated either admiration or disbelief. 'Great Gaia, Ben… I've heard of gunboat diplomacy, but you conduct it from your damn bed?'
Ben allowed a spectacularly feral smile to stretch the corners of his mouth. 'It has been known. There was a delightful aquatic girl a couple of years ago… could hold her breath for the best part of half an hour. The Illumidas ambassador hadn't a clue what was going on beneath the covers…'
'Oh sweet Earth, Ben. You really are a degenerate!'
The speaker was a tall, slender woman with long golden hair, who walked into the room through the massive, heavy oak double doors and sashayed towards them, a vision in red leather and black thigh boots. Behind her walked an ethereal creature of mist and shadow, pale skinned, with silky pale green hair and large round, vertically pupiled eyes.
'Kei!'
Ben sprang to his feet and strode over to greet the human woman, pulling her into a bear hug and then kissing her soundly - but chastely - on the lips. 'You look as lovely as ever.'
'So do you,' she told him. Her tone was bright, but brittle, and he could see the lines of strain at the corners of her lovely cobalt blue eyes.
'My harem always has room for one more,' he told her. It earned him a punch on the arm.
'No thanks. I've got more than I can handle right here.'
He smiled warmly at her, gave her another hug and released her, to turn his attention to the delicate alien woman behind her. 'Mimay.' He bowed low, making a leg with flamboyant grace, before taking her hands in his and bowing over them, kissing the back of each one in turn.
'Ben.' She inclined her head gracefully, and accepted the kiss on the cheek he offered. She reached up to trace the lines of his face with long, attenuated fingers. 'You've been working too hard.' She didn't wait for him to reply, but walked over to the chaise longue he'd vacated, accepted the glass Harlock held out to her and dropped elegantly into the seat, leaning casually against the raised back, the diaphanous folds of her overdress sweeping the floor.
'You don't offer me a drink?' Kei asked Harlock.
'You don't drink,' he pointed out. She grabbed a tumbler from the table, picked up the bottle and filled it half full. 'I do today.' Chairs being in short supply, she sat on Harlock's knee. 'Any more news?' she asked of Ben, looking hopeful.
He shook his head. 'I'm sorry. Nothing yet. The only thing I can bring you so far is myself, for what little it's worth.'
'It's worth a lot,' she replied, ignoring the little jab in the side Harlock gave her. 'Ignore him. I know you don't have to be here in person. And I'm glad you were in the right place to find us.'
'Don't encourage him,' Harlock told her. 'He'll only follow us home…'
She jabbed him in the side with her now empty tumbler. 'He already did, remember? When you bought him at that dreadful auction…' She smiled sadly at Ben and stood up. 'I need to get back to work. The flight prep…'
'Can wait,' Harlock said softly. 'Get some rest, the crew can actually get this behemoth off the ground without you waving a clipboard in their faces…'
'I can take a break once we're en route…'
'I'll make it an order…' He gave her a push in the direction of the bathroom, ignoring her mulish face. 'And I recommend a shower… you smell like a foundry…'
'Yes, well, we had a couple of problems in the tectite extrusion plant…' she broke off, and gave Harlock a guilty look. 'Good point.' She practically scuttled into the adjoining bathroom, with a backwards glance at Ben, who just smiled at her discomfort and prepared to take his leave.
'You have a berth for me?'
'I should put you in with Ali… But I'm not that cruel. There are plenty of rooms free, since we're not running with a full crew. Pick one.'
Ben nodded. Before he left he added: 'Many still here who I know?'
'Just the regulars this time out, so yes. But Ben…' he paused. '...some of them were not too happy when your real identity came out.'
'I imagine not,' he replied dryly. 'Makes me wonder why you kept my secret for so long.' He strolled out, cloak slung casually over one arm and didn't look back, and so missed Harlock's wry smile at being caught out.
Mimay reached for the remains of the bottle, emptied it into her goblet and then drained it in one smooth swallow. 'You knew?'
'Mmm. For a couple of years before he finally left us permanently. What?' He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. 'Plenty of the crew have things in their past they'd rather forget, or hide. I don't usually pry. But I am not, and have never been, a complete idiot. All those long absences... Different hair, clothes, manner… the lighting on the warp feed whenever I had to deal with "Dessler" was always low, or he kept his face shadowed, and his voice was deeper. I could have put it down to a family resemblance, but he slipped up a couple of times. I know a player when I meet one, and he gave a command performance.'
'You liked him.'
'Despite everything… I still do. But I'll be damned if I'll let him off the hook anytime soon.'
'It wasn't completely an act, I think,' Mimay said softly. 'That is, for all his power, a lonely man.'
'And a manipulative bastard of truly historical proportions,' Harlock reminded her. 'Do not underestimate him. His enemies can't testify to the lengths he'll go to protect his people and his person, for the very simple reason he rarely leaves any alive…' He paused. 'He reminds me too much of myself… an object lesson in what I could become if I had his responsibilities resting on my shoulders.'
'Then why allow him back on board?'
It was Kei who answered, walking back into the room clad only in a white towel. 'Because like Harlock, he'll walk into hell for a friend. Emperor Dessler of Gamilas just walked onto the Arcadia and basically offered to be just another crewman, to help our son.'
'He also wants a lift because he wants to stick his nose in without someone spotting the annoying protuberance,' Harlock pointed out. Kei perched on his knee and kissed the end of his nose.
'And you know damned well that he'd help anyway.'
'The trouble arises,' Harlock pointed out, 'Because he'll use his enemies and his council as an excuse to me, and use me as an excuse to them.'
'What you keep missing,' Kei replied with a laugh, 'is that he doesn't have to give anyone an excuse.'
The corner of his mouth twitched. 'Oh. I don't miss it at all. It's that playful duplicity that annoys me more than anything else about him.' The commlink on his desk pinged. 'Saved by the bell,' he quipped, before she could reply. 'Harlock.'
'Captain?' Franz's voice was tinny over the link. Kei made a mental note to sort out the settings. The Arcadia's systems had been shut down for so long, several systems needed an overhaul and a reset. 'Yattaran says can Mimay come to the bridge? We're ready for the restart.'
'I'm fairly sure he wasn't that polite,' Mimay murmured as she rose gracefully to her feet.
'Missing the old days?' Kei asked. The nibelung woman just smiled enigmatically - although anything else was difficult given her tiny mouth and otherwise impassive features, and headed for the bridge.
Alone at last, Harlock gave Kei's towel a tug. 'You need to unwind a little, your bottom is rigid.'
'Yama…'
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. 'He's a grown man now, Kei. We can't panic everytime he goes out. He chose the life. Sooner or later they have to fly the nest.'
'And yet…' she murmured into his ear. 'Here we are…'
'It's bigger than Wataru, and in this case, although I don't like dancing when Layla pulls on a string, we are the best - the only - ship that can help the Sirius.'
'So if it wasn't a possible dark matter or metanoid incident…'
'Oh hell, I'd still go running. But like Ben, I'm happy to cling on to the fiction that I've got an out for not making my son feel like he's still nine and papa will come running to haul him out of the lake.' He kissed her cheek. 'We protect our own.'
Her answering smile was wan. 'And Project Thanatos?'
'Daiba's capable of handling the liaison with the Nibelung until we get back. He speaks the language better than anyone else as it is. We'll leave Maji with him - the two of them get on well enough, and only Tochiro knows the systems better.'
She nodded and stood up, walking to the desk with an enticing sway of her bare bottom. Before she hit the hololink's on button though he decided a little more captainly discretion was in order. 'Kei?'
'Hmm?'
'I'm loving the view but you might want to put some clothes on…'
As she dashed over to where she'd folded her flightsuit earlier, Tochiro cleared his throat. You're being a little too calm, aren't you? I mean… this is Wataru we're talking about… two left feet and a tendency to charge headlong into trouble…
'I can't affect anything that's already happened or that will happen before I get there,' Harlock pointed out. 'We taught him as best we could and the SDF does turn out some fine officers. I guess we'll see if it paid off. I also know the captain of the Sirius - he served under Dantetsu for a while, he's got a good head on his shoulders. Anything they can't cope with, no-one can. I just have to hope we're in time.'
It was hard to know if the electronic gurgle in reply was sympathy or agreement.
