Things haven't been the same since Darien arrived on Tempus, bringing with him the past and a hope for the future.
He doesn't do it on purpose, but he makes us face who we are.
NavSta Methuselah's Dûm - Thyssalo System - Imperial Apilon Rift Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY NINE
Methuselah's Dûm was named with some irony after the Imperial warship naming convention, but there was little Imperial about with the pirates nest that lurked in the darkness of an asteroid belt in an adjacent system to Karin. Deeper in the Apilon Rift, it operated as a defensive outpost and a station for former commonwealth vessels and transports that made the arduous journey through the remote systems to the capital. Protecting those ships, now, from the kind of people it harboured before the rise of the Imperial order.
It remained dirty in Katz's mind. He was walking down an arched glass transit tube, heavy Plexiglas supported by rib bone struts connecting the docks to the main part of the NavSta ahead of him. There were beer cans strewn about, along with crates that had been ransacked and overturned. Methuselah's Dûm was now a haven for cockroaches.
Beyond the glass, the mushroom shaped facility sat in the darkness, glowing with red lights, rigged for war... like all of them were. He could appreciate the fact that the outpost had probably never seen peace, and had never been lit up the way it had been designed. It was a haven to shadows and secrets as well.
He crossed an airlock, noting the yellow and black chevrons that signified danger, ducking through and drawing a tight breath, looking back behind him to where the Excalibur was offloading. Her dropships were running in an endless stream evacuating survivors from Karin to the outpost as F-150 fighters of Vanguard and Reaper squadrons made the transit to reinforce the base's contingent of fighters.
They had retreated. The bitterness at the thought struck each of them, and Katz looked over towards Darien, who marching with a dark purpose ahead of the small collection of officers, heading towards the reception party at the far end of the second transit tube.
"Warlord Taine!" Captain Bastian Kingston, one of the first men to join Walker's resistance and instrumental in helping topple the Commonwealth and its Pirate Barons, greeted Taine grimly. The short man was wearing an ornamental kimono, dark but accented with gold. The black spectacles on his face hid his blind eyes as his hand searched the air, waiting for Taine to take it.
The two men shook hands warmly, "I am sorry to come here, Captain," Taine replied tiredly.
"Oh nonsense," Bastian said, coughing as he turned away, "after our own patrol ships tucked tail and ran the moment the Gorean turned up, any additional fire support is greatly appreciated."
"And a safe haven is welcome as well," Darien answered, "my ship is going to require resupply, but then its back to Karin. We have to..."
"Operate smartly," Bastian answered motioning back in towards the NavSta. "Is that the Highlady Kardiac's perfume I smell?"
Masconi reached out a hand to touch Bastian's shoulder warmly. "I'm here, Captain."
"Ah the touch of true beauty," Bastian replied with a smile. "You are welcome in my hall. Your father... I am sorry."
Masconi looked with a faint regret towards the glass, and towards space beyond, "he lived, and died, in the service of the Empire. We should all be so lucky."
"We may all get that chance," Bastian replied shaking his head, "that is, if the Gorean get their way. Damn pig-lizards. I hear they turn their victims into kebabs, is that true Taine?"
Darien sank his hands into the pockets of his great coat and gave his assent. "They overran Karin city in days, and are now turning their attention to pacifying the rest of the planet."
"Karin city is the planet," Bastian said, "There are what, a smattering of small towns and villages across the planet, a few game reserves. The Commonwealth preferred Karin remain profitable to them for recreation." His nose tested the air again. "There are others with you. Soldiers and pilots."
"Lieutenant Colonel Marty Mayfair, sir." Mayfair shook the former Pirate Baron's hand. "I have what's left of the field command staff from the defence of Karin city."
"Indeed," Bastian answered. "Major Littlington will see you are billeted, the marine barracks smell like an old gym locker, but they should suit your purposes... and the pilot?" He turned towards Katz, his nose testing the air again, looking mildly surprised at the scent, "I know that scent"
Katz shook his head, and realized Kingston couldn't see it, "Squadron Leader Alvin Katz."
"Ah," Bastian said, a troubled look on his face. "I should return to my office, I have preparations to make." He stopped, opening his mouth towards Katz, before shaking it and turning away. "So many preparations to make. Warlord Taine, the base is at your disposal, Operations is briefed and expecting you."
"Thank you, Captain," Darien called after the Captain, pausing to look at Katz, a heavy and thoughtful look on his face, mirrored on Masconi's.
Katz looked up at both of them, folding his arms about himself. "What?" he asked defensively. Bastian's strange behaviour was nothing to do with him.
"We should sort out the NavSta defences," Masconi said, finally giving up on trying to get an answer out of the stoic fighter pilot and turning her attention back to Taine. "There are a couple of air wings operating out of Methuselah's Dûm now, and I need to co-ordinate them."
Darien nodded. "Make yourself a Group Captain for the duration of the stay here, let's make sure there are no quarrels as to who commands what."
"Right," Masconi replied, looking towards Katz again. "He's ready for CAG."
"What?" Katz asked in surprise, looking up from where he was lost in his thoughts.
"You sure?" Darien asked Masconi seriously.
"He's a bit passionate, but isn't stupid in the chair, you know that," Masconi responded. "And out of all the pilots left on deck, he has the most combat experience."
Katz knew it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, so he stood there, watching Darien give him an appraising look, considering entrusting the Excalibur's air wing to the young man. There was a lot of history between the two men, a lot of trust. They'd survived Eisenhower and Skyella together, Arcanis, Haligonian Station, Ordessus, at least a dozen names of places where blood and tears were shed.
"Are you ready?" Darien asked cautiously.
"For what it's worth, Skipper," Mayfair chimed in, "the boy has my vote. He's always got it in a pinch, and we're in a pinch."
Darien inclined his head. "Right, you're CAG. You'd best get to Operations with Masconi and co-ordinate the integration of our squadrons with the NavSta's defence grids. Colonel Mayfair..."
HMS Excalibur - Tight Orbit of Methuselah's Dûm - Imperial Apilon Rift Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY NINE
"Jumping may not have been the best move." Edward walked around the Propylon chamber, stepping over the mass of cabling that connected the Excalibur's Nav computer to the interface computer they were using to operate the Propylons.
"How so?" Commander Durnham asked, standing at the far end of the chamber staring up at the array of scaffolding that supported the five alien devices suspended about the chamber. "They operated well enough to get the Excalibur out of the Karin system."
"Well," Edward said sitting down in the middle of the chamber and pointing to where the Amsus computer that had controlled the devices had once stood, "the Amsus actually had time to study these things, and even then they had Polian help to actually work them. What I rigged essentially used them like jump pods, a nav computer guesstimates our exit point in a system after a hyperspace jump... the difference was that the Amsus computer was accurately mapping and accurately computing an exit point that the Propylons could use. We're not exactly on the same level."
"Could we reconfigure one of our computers to do the same thing?" Durnham inquired, studying the interface computer.
"Well the fact that we were able to jump at all is a good sign but, then again, what do I know?" Edward scratched his head, "I don't know how this thing works, not really. I can guess, and Ashley got the system running the last time with my help. But we're not..." His hands balled. "We don't..."
to face Edward, "even before you became... what you are, you were one of the best engineers to ever serve aboard this ship. Excalibur trusts you, I trust you, and we know that you will solve this problem."
"That's just it," Edward said, rubbing his head. "I'm a techno-god... but these things aren't technology, at least not the way I define it. If I knew why they worked, then maybe I could suss them out. For the time being, I am going to have to create a computer program to map the entirety of known space. Every dust particle, every..."
Commander Durnham inclined his head. "You mean like you do?"
"It's similar, yes," Edward admitted. "I want coffee. Do you want a coffee?"
Commander Durnham smiled a fraction. "I think I will have to pass, Your Highness."
Edward blinked and smiled. "Sorry, wasn't thinking. At least not like that." There was a short pop as he willed a cup of coffee into existence, tilting it to sniff the mug and sighing blissfully as he drank. "We're not dissimilar, you and me," he said, curling his legs up under him wrapping his hands about his mug. "We're both made of energy, it's just that I can manifest while you're a product of light. We're still just as alive as regular people."
"I was a computer specialist long before I became Excalibur's Executive Officer," Commander Durnham answered, "and while I can't type, perhaps I can assist you in this? Quantum Computing was my specialty."
Edward grinned. "You do that and I'll find a way to let you drink coffee again. I cross my heart."
Commander Durnham shook his head at the eccentric engineer. "I am not sure what prospect scares me more, the thought of a hologram drinking coffee, or that you might actually find a way to make it possible."
"Hey," Edward answered as he sat down before the computer, opening the files he needed to start working on the Propylon drivers, "I'll try anything, except of course Darien's cooking. The last time he attempted a home cooked meal I ended up with a bum like a Japanese flag..."
Commander Durnham chuckled. "It's nice to have someone I can share old humour with."
Edward shrugged. "These neo-imperials don't understand half of what I say anyway, not like the two of us, trapped outside our own time."
Both men drew quiet again, the monumental gap in the years between the era they both shared and the current one weighing heavily upon them,
"I know a good priest and rabbi joke," Edward said suddenly, "and I know you know what a rabbi is..."
Methuselah's Dûm - Thyssalo System - Imperial Apilon Rift Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY NINE
The main concourse of Methuselah's Dûm was old, blinking advertisement billboards displayed ads for goods and services long since obsolete. Doctor Kyr noted that some went back a good hundred years or so, classic jingles that were taught in Orion schools as the greats.
He wished Edward was with him, a little of his unique charm would go a long way to making the grim place more bearable. But Edward was restricting himself to the Excalibur - the less exposure to Imperial citizenry who would recognize him, the better. Not that his little stunts in the Excalibur's sickbay and on Karin with the storm weren't a dead give away, but Kyr appreciated that Edward was at least trying to keep a low profile.
Recognizing something that approached a bar, he set off across the broad-decked concourse, dodging around a pair of drunks sleeping it off in a gutter as he pushed his way inside. He looked down on drinking as a general rule, but he often found that his crew mates enjoyed 'tilting one back' in such fine establishments.
Of course, the bar he was standing in didn't really count as a fine establishment. The packaging crates for stools, the thick clouds of smoke that smelled suspiciously like narcotics, and of course the dark-faced people lurking in shadows, definitely didn't add to the warm image of a pub in Kyr's mind.
He was somewhat relieved to see Masconi drinking at the bar, the hardened Highlady keeping one hand resting on her pulse pistol as she talked to the bartender, a unique character in and of himself. To Kyr he seemed strange, the toupee balanced upon his bald head was a good size too small for him, and looked like it was a small fuzzy animal that belonged on Kyr's plate next to some good sauces. He was smoking a cigarillo that was held precariously between two fingers and being sucked on with lips that caressed the butt a little too closely for comfort. He had more earrings than any one person should possess, and an anachronistic pair of spectacles were perched on his nose, through which he leered at Masconi before him.
"You have a puppy," the bar tender observed, making no move to talk to Kyr.
Masconi spared Kyr a look, before fixing her attention on the bar tender. "You're changing the subject. I need pilots. Are you going to help me or not?"
The bartender puffed on his cigarillo again, savouring the flavour of the smoke as he stared at her. "Mercenaries aren't cheap, not these days. And you'll find them... unmotivated for suicide missions. You're best sticking to your Imperial fighter pilots and making do. Most around here aren't that fond of the Empire to begin with, you were very bad for business the last few years. Darien Taine's great campaign to rid the Apilon Rift of the Pirate Barons certainly hasn't earned him many friends."
Masconi too a pull of her drink with her off hand, her other remaining on the butt of his pistol, refusing to move, her eye fixed on the bartender, though she seemed aware of the rest of the bar as well. "I have credits, we need pilots. And the Gorean are nobody's friends. You tell me which would you prefer, Taine or the Gorean cook pots?"
The bartender chuckled, the smoke coiling around him like a snake. "You really are optimistic, Masconi. You'd do better to hire Dar'shar out of the local Orion guildhall, and they owe Taine one, I hear. Didn't they give you a good smack on Karin?"
Masconi stiffened. "When the Gorean show up here, you're going to be begging for Imperial protection, and you are all going to be thankful it's Darien Taine and the Excalibur out there. Because," she dropped her voice, and snarled, "if it were me, I'd leave you all to them."
"I respect you," the bartender laughed, "you have some guts to try down here, but Mercs aren't in your happy little family picture. They don't fit next to your shiny boots and F-175 fighters; they'll clutter up your ship and make a mess. No, you Imperials should go find wide-eyed kids, offer them a lie and stuff them into a uniform, give them one of your shiny new planes and let them die a hero's death. There are no heroes here."
"Then Methuselah's Dûm is well named," Masconi fired back, slamming down her glass and catching Kyr by the collar, "because you'll find it is doomed."
She stormed out, taking Kyr with her as she seethed, marching back into the concourse. "What were you doing there, Doctor?"
"I've been in worse places," Kyr answered. "Normally Matt likes to drink in the seediest places he can find so I figured..."
"Go find Katz, have a milkshake," Masconi snapped. "Stay away from bars like that." She fished through her flight leathers, pulling out her TAC-link and flipping it open. "Excalibur, Ark-leader, no go."
There was a pause. "Sì, sì Angelina, signore Taine is ashore, but I will forward your message."
Masconi warmed a little at the sound of Alessandro's voice. "Thank you, Allie, tell him I tried but they aren't going to co-operate, we're going to have to find another way. Maybe if Captain Kingston will help."
"Buying Captain Kingston's help won't be easy," Darien said, stepping around the corner and joining the pair. "He's co-operative to a point, but I think he can smell the blood in the water, and without Walker and the Senate in power, the Empire is beginning to splinter. Everyone's trying to gather as many resources as they can ,to weather the coming Gorean storm. They aren't as willing to share them anymore."
Masconi closed her TAC-link. "What the hell do we do now?"
"Honestly?" Taine replied, biting his lip, "I'm not sure. We're in a fix, and without more firepower we're not going to have much impact against the Gorean. We could ask Matt, but..."
"He doesn't want to," Kyr interjected. "He doesn't want a repeat of Kardiac and the bishops' religion, and if he keeps acting that's going to be guaranteed. I can see his point, too. You two didn't see how people treated him in sickbay the day of the invasion."
"It is a valid concern," Masconi added. "There are already too many people that think he's a god, and we all know he isn't. Advanced human, sure. But god?"
Darien gestured for them to walk, heading away from the concourse and back into the rabbit warren of corridors that housed NavSta quarters and businesses. "The key has to be Kingston, he can act as a bridge for the Mercs, but convincing him to do more than simply offer us a safe haven is going to be tough. Walker used to keep him in line, maybe if we can re-establish contact with some elements of the Imperial government that..."
"You and I are what's left of the Imperial Government," Masconi pointed out, "the Matriarch and Walker are probably prisoners by now, if they are still alive. Chancellor Evans and the Senate surrendered. And if Prince Edward can't be the Immortal Emperor, then that leaves us and the regional governors."
"And the regional governors are who we need to convince," Darien concluded. "Damn this is a mess."
* * *
Katz paced the Operations centre of the base, TAC-link headset on, talking to his pilots as they ran a patrol through the asteroid field.
"This is boring," Lieutenant Pollo was saying over the channel.
"Keep your heads up and concentrate on your job," Katz scolded. "This area is dangerous."
"Fine for you to say CAG, you're safe and warm back at base," Pollo lamented. "I just want a warm bed."
"Shut it," Katz snarled, sitting down before a bank of sensor displays, watching the NavSta relays scanning the darkness for any sign of the inevitable Gorean search for the Excalibur. Intelligence had detailed that they had divided their fleet up into hunting packs to search the surrounding systems, trying to flush out the elusive warship, as if they were afraid of her disappearance.
Masconi was present in the Ops centre, keeping an eye on Katz running his first set of patrols and Katz hoped he was passing her test, he walked away from the monitors to join her side, looking over the tactical boards that displayed the Karin system and showed the last known distribution of the Gorean invasion forces.
"We're planning to go back?" Katz asked.
"Dee won't leave them behind," Masconi responded. "We lost a lot of good people down on Karin and we owe it to them to attempt a rescue."
"Then shouldn't we recall the fleet? There are what, a hundred or so Gorean ships, if Darien recalled a few Imperial battle groups, we'd drive the Gorean back and..."
"Lose our only shot at Earth," Masconi pointed out. "The Imperial forces are committed to their attack run. We passed the point of no return about six days ago. The Jump Nexus and the fleet are now showing up on Amsus deep space monitors and they are rushing ships back to intercept them. If Riley gets to Earth first then he may have a chance at taking it and digging in before the Amsus can arrive. Forcing them into the siege and not us."
"It isn't going to matter much without Karin," Katz observed.
"There is more to the Empire than just Karin," Masconi replied coldly, pausing when she saw the look on his face and thawing her tone compassionately. "I know it was your home, but Darien can deal with the Gorean. Have faith."
Katz sighed. "Okay, okay." He touched his TAC-link, looking back at his boards, confident there was no sign of the Gorean yet.
"Something else, Alvin?" Masconi asked, watching him lurking about.
"I... I wanted to ask you more about Alessandro..." Katz dropped his tone. "I..."
"You'd do well just to leave it alone," Masconi answered, sighing as she stared at the young pilot, who was obviously confused, "or talk to him about it. Just, don't go pinning your hopes on something he can't give to you."
"Yeah," Katz agreed. "I just..." He gave up, walking away to return to his scopes and to his work, at least that wasn't as confusing as his love life. Co-ordinating Combat Air Patrols was, at least, simple.
He remained there, working through much of the afternoon, sparing the occasional look towards Darien who had joined Masconi at the plotting board, the pair of them working with Colonel Mayfair, debating the future of the occupation, and how to deal a terminal blow to the Gorean. Captain Kingston offered his thoughts, but there was something unsettling about the man that made Katz keep a low profile, away from the strategy session.
It wasn't like Bastian wasn't aware of him. Every so often; the bald headed man would turn his head, testing the air, a phantom smile decorating his tight lips as if reassuring himself that Katz was close on hand.
Katz had his share of loonies in the past, people with eccentric tastes, especially when he had worked the streets of Karin, tastes ranging from leashes and barking through to baser desires. Katz knew that eccentricies meant more money and had played that angle when he'd been certain it would benefit him. But there was something unnerving about the way that Bastian approached it. And Katz chose to hide himself in his work, so deeply engrossed in maintenance reports on the grounded 175's that he was unaware that the strategy meeting had broken up and that Bastian was standing behind him.
"You work too hard, boy," Bastian said in his soft tone, a tone that was beginning to creep Katz out.
"There's kinda no choice," Katz said, noting that, aside from Bastian's men and Darien, he was alone in the Operations centre.
"There is always a choice," Bastian answered. "Join me in my suite later, I have something to talk to you about."
"No I don't..." Katz began.
Bastian's hand snaked out to catch Katz's arm, his thumb running across the tattooed barcode there, "There is boy, there is a lot to discuss. Does the name Jesse not convince you?"
Katz dragged his hand away, taking a step back as he cradled it against his chest. "I..."
"Will come, won't you Jesse?" Bastian smiled, "or should I call you Alvin now?"
"I'm not Jesse," Katz stated firmly. "You're mistaking me for..."
"The scents don't lie," Bastian said. "Be at my suite, boy, and we will talk." As he left, Darien stood back watching, holding up three fingers as he slipped on his TAC-link.
Katz complied, switching his own TAC-link to button three, a channel that held some significance to the pair. "What?" Katz asked, keeping his voice low.
Darien slipped his headset on, looking across Ops before he settled back into fiddling with the strategy board. "What was that about, Alvin?"
"Nothing," Katz responded, returning to his own scopes. "Just a freak being a freak."
"What he said unsettled you," Darien said, walking around to the coffee pot and fixing himself a mug, pointedly looking up long enough to lock eyes with Katz.
"I'm okay," Katz reassured. "There's nothing to worry about, I've dealt with his kind before."
"I know you can handle yourself," Darien said quietly. "You're one of the few people I have around me who I know can take care of himself. You're too much like me at times, which means I know when something's bothering you. Talk to me, Alvin."
"Bastian wants me to meet him in his suite later, he knows that I used to," uncomfortably, Katz rubbed the tattoo on his wrist, "well, you know."
Darien sipped his coffee across the ops centre, studying the screens. "There are close to fifty blockade runners and light raiders at this base, Mercs under Bastian's employ. We need those ships, Alvin; can you use this as a way to convince him to give them to us?"
Katz turned his head, locking his grey eyes on Darien's. "You want me to seduce him, and get the ships?"
Darien looked uncomfortable. "This isn't an order.. Hell, it isn't even a suggestion... Alvin, I can't ask you to do this."
"But you did," Katz replied. "Will the ships do any good?"
"Frankly?" Darien replied, looking across his board. "They'd buy distraction time and help us land troops at the right time, beyond that they're cannon fodder. But in the initial drop, they're invaluable."
"I-I'll try to get you your ships," Katz replied, turning uncomfortably back to his boards.
"Who was Jesse?" Darien asked softly.
"An old friend," Katz answered at length. "Older boy, coaching a younger boy on how to survive. Jesse helped me to stay alive after my parents sold me off, he died just before you freed us from the slave pits."
"You cared about him," Darien observed.
"As much as I could care about anyone," Katz answered truthfully. "Seems fated that people I love die. Jesse, Ashley..."
"I'm sorry," Darien offered.
"I'll get your ships," Katz vowed. "I'm good at what I used to do, one day, maybe you should try me and find out."
Darien stood across the ops centre, folding his arms, "I wouldn't do that to you..."
"You just did," Katz answered sadly.
* * *
Darien was troubled, returning to the Excalibur aboard a dropship. Sitting and looking at Marine Captain Hansen who was returning to head up the dragoons at Colonel Mayfair's request. There was a quiet between them as Darien sat contemplating his ship through the hatch window.
"Do you know anything about Peligia?" Darien asked after a long moment, looking across at the close cropped Dragoon.
Hansen nodded, "Dragoons are briefed when we're selected... that and I took some classes on Karin a few years back on the subject of ancient civilizations. What's on your mind your, Lordship?"
"We're being sidetracked," Darien replied. "There was an excavation site listed in the Peligian Diary I need checked out. If I put together an expedition team under your command..."
"Done, sir," Hansen responded automatically, offering his skipper a smile. "Your Lordship knows, anything that gives me a chance to stretch my legs. Who's on the team?"
"Doctors Casey and Murphy, they came aboard on Karin." Darien folded his arms, still staring out of the windows. "This could be a wild goose chase, but we need to make some progress after..."
"Lieutenant Galadriel's death kinda knocked the whole Peligian thing off track," Hansen nodded. "I miss her a bit as well, milord."
Darien turned his gaze at last. "Select the men you need and talk to the ships quartermaster about equipment. When you're ready, hopefully, Lieutenant Elias will have the Propylons operational."
"Roger wilco," Hansen said, looking meaningfully at Darien. "You can count on me, Lordship."
"I know," Darien answered, looking back towards his ship, surveying the damage done to such a graceful beauty, remembering Galadriel's smile over their morning coffee.
* * *
His dark blonde hair was swept back, carefully set with product so that it wouldn't get in the way of his sharp grey eyes. A casual hoodie was thrown over a grey-blue plaid shirt and a pair of beige cargo pants that complimented each other well. Everything seemed to come together with the well worked-in leather jacket, obviously well loved by its previous owner.
"Do I look okay?" Katz asked picking at the sleeves of the jacket anxiously.
"You look fine," the wizened old creature purred, his lips twitching from side to side as he stood across the open dining room partially in the shadows away from the flickering candlelight.
"Don't worry," Katz said straightening up a little, "I'm an old pro at this."
"I bet you are," Bastian murmured as the air-conditioned in the suite rattled and clattered up to speed. "You are so much like him. Different, but similar enough."
"How does this work?" Katz asked. "What am I supposed to do?"
"For now, just relax," Bastian replied, walking across the room and through the doors into the broad kitchen, the lights turning on as he went in a modern and well appointed room. It was furnished with a designer's flair, it smelled expensive, and yet there was a homey feel to it. The fridge had fliers and a to-do list upon it, an old schedule present as well with heavy pencil markings circling important dates.
Katz drew his hands up and into his sleeves as he hovered by the door. "Who was he to you anyway?" he asked, looking at the photos that decorated the walls.
"My son," Bastian answered, pausing by the stove to stir the pasta sauce that burbled happily and filled the air with the warming scent of roasted garlic and tomatoes.
"I didn't know that he had a father." Katz entered the kitchen, walking along the rows of photos, staring into the eyes of a happy and adventurous young man. There were numerous images of his skiing and enjoying the outdoors and Katz felt a pang of regret for the camaraderie he had shared with that boy. They were similar, in that Katz was now about the same age as Jesse had been in the pictures, but that was as far as Katz could distinguish a resemblance.
"He made mistakes," Bastian shifted, adding a touch of red wine to the pot, "and eventually those mistakes just caught up with him."
Katz glanced behind him, looking at the old man's black spectacles, it had to be scent, and he watched as Bastian ran his tongue down and over his teeth, a gesture Katz remembered that Kyr did often, a warning pricking the hairs on the back of his neck as he flexed his hands, wishing he'd brought a gun. It was a feeling that there was something malevolent about the old creature, something dangerous.
"So you just want me to be him?" Katz nodded to the photo. "Then you'll give us the ships?"
"All of them," Bastian said. "You will get your ships. Tell me about your day."
Katz shrugged. "I had a long trip," he said, understanding that he was supposed to role-play; he'd done it before for clients. Encounters with people looking to recreate memories, or act out fantasies with a conveniently willing partner. Money provided what their own skills and attributes had failed to attract, or keep. He'd played the father-son fantasy many times before.
"Which route did you take?" Bastian continued to prepare the pasta, adding salt to the second pot and bringing it up to boil.
"Long way round." Katz kept his answers vague, drawing upon the truth as much as he could. It would be more believable that way.
"How were your exams?" Bastian asked, pausing in his cooking and giving a broad and toothy grin. "Last time we spoke you were going to get tutoring for calculus."
"I still suck at maths," Katz conceded, still sticking to the truth. "I can't wrap my head around numbers, it's like they just don't make sense..." he looked at Bastian, who appeared to be waiting for an answer and Katz shrugged. "Haven't got my marks yet, but I tried hard."
"All I ever expect of you is your best," Bastian said fondly. "Who's the other boy you were travelling with?"
"Kyr?" Katz asked grabbing the first name that came into his head, trying to work out if he was still in the role-play, he decided to play that he was. "Med student, great guy, his mom's an actress."
"Really?" Bastian inquired, nodding. "That's good, you always needed more friends. Does he ski?"
Katz chuckled at the thought of Kyr on skis. "No, more like he chooses to hang around the lodge. I think he's a bit of a chicken..."
"Sensible," Bastian said, a note of regret in his voice. "I've missed you."
Katz shifted uncomfortably. "I've been busy."
Bastian nodded sadly. "I know, maybe I should have paid closer attention to you, and your mother."
Katz sat down in a chair at the table, resting his hands on the arms. "You had other things to do, your ship, your position."
"I wanted what was the best for you," Bastian said calmly, "you were always the most important thing to me. I just don't understand why you had to leave..."
Katz looked up, opening his mouth, remembering the long nights huddled together with Jesse, listening to half formed thoughts, remembering the anger. His own memories made his eyes grow moist as he thought about the boy that had loved him and taught him, keeping him safe in the brothel. Two boys, all alone, selling pieces of their youth.
"If you cared so much, why the hell didn't you come and get me?" Katz asked, his anger spiking. "Why the hell did you leave me in that place?"
"I..." Bastian faltered. "What place?"
Katz could smell the lie, and he stood, his anger boiling, "Some people in there didn't have a choice, they didn't have a Pirate-baron for a father, a pirate-baron who could find out where his son was if he really gave a toss," Katz swore loudly. "You knew where I was."
Bastian flinched. "S-stop this. This isn't what I want."
"Isn't it?" Katz asked. "You want to know why our scents are the same, Jesse and I? Guava, I wash in it. It was the only thing we could use to get the stink of sex off of our skin, of dirty old men that used us so that they could leach off of our youth and not feel so old. You want to know how old I was when he found me? You want to know how old I was when he started to take care of me?" Katz seethed, staring at the old man.
"I want you to stop this," Bastian began.
"I was too young," Katz snapped. "You left him there, you knew where he was. And if you recognize the Guava, then you had to have seen him in there. Seen me..."
"I haven't seen anyone in a long time," Bastian replied sadly. "Yes, I knew where he was and yes, I kept him there. I owned the brothel where you both were."
"You owned me..." Katz sounded pained, sitting heavily in his chair. "Jesse died in that brothel... I... Why, he was your son?"
"He was born to it," Bastian answered, "I tried to give him a home here, to be a father to him. But he was too much to handle, and his mother... I had to do something and it seemed natural. He was born to it, so he should return to it."
"You threw him away," Katz said calmly. "I was thrown away, too. Parents who couldn't give a shit what happened to me, finding the deepest, darkest hole to throw their mistake into. Seems to be the Karin legacy it's kind of fitting that the Gorean are there now, maybe we should just let that hole burn. It might clean away the past."
"I don't remember you, Katz," Bastian said softly. "I think I would have remembered someone so young."
"You didn't care," Katz said quietly, "that's why the brothel was closed after Jesse died, and why I was tossed back into the pits. You."
"How did he die?" Bastian asked, almost pleadingly.
"Unpleasantly," Katz answered maliciously. "D'you want to know, do you really want to know what happened? Or would you rather I lie?"
Bastian considered it, ignoring the pasta sauce that was starting to burn, his head sinking forward a little. "How did he die?"
"He had a client who was into weird shit, and it went too far," Katz said, rubbing the leather of the jacket, Jesse's jacket, remembering the bright smiles, the only happiness from a dark time in his life. And he stared up at the boy's father, realizing there were so many common features they shared, looks and mannerisms. Jesse wouldn't have wanted his father to suffer, no matter how much they had suffered as a result of him.
"He was my best friend," Katz said honestly, "he fought for me, protected me. Did things for me no one else would have done. He took care of me when I was sick. Damn him and those cans of soup, he used to hoard them in our room, said it was just in case." Katz tried his best not to let the tears come, but the first rebelled and slid from his eye, and once started he couldn't stop them. "He knew everything about everything. Smart, he taught me how to read from magazines, how to drive, how to play cards. He was great at cards, we used to earn extra money when he slipped out on our nights off to the casino."
"He got that from me," Bastian turned off the stove and began to dish the dinner, "I was always good at cards."
"He was short sighted too. He used to leave his glasses behind when he went on a date, said they always looked better in his imagination anyways." Katz wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "When he died it was like I lost a piece of who I was. Then I was sold to the markets, and then came the Excalibur and I met Kendrick and Darien and..."
"You made good for yourself," Bastian said as he set a plate of pasta down. "A hero according to your service record, five-time Ace, distinguished flying cross, Paladin-one..."
"I... I survived." Katz answered looking down at the simple food, "I've killed more times than I want to think about, but I survived."
"If he hadn't died?" Bastian asked.
"He might be sitting here, not me," Katz answered "He was always better than me at stuff, more in control."
Bastian nodded. "I'd like to think that he'd have been just like you."
"I try to be like him," Katz admitted. "Like Darien too, they're similar as well. Same concern about me."
"Taine." Bastian nodded. "Seems like the man enjoys bringing change. He needs ships; tell him he's got them."
Katz nodded. "I'll tell him."
"And you," Bastian said, pushing his fork into his pasta, "tell me about you."
"What's there to say?" Katz asked, fishing inside the leather jacket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. Taking one, he lit it. "You want to reminisce some more about my happy childhood?"
Bastian shook his head, "No, tell me what you've become afterwards?"
"I fly planes and I kill people," Katz answered, letting the cigarette dangle from the corner of his mouth as he talked. "I'm not sure what else there is to say."
"No relationships of your own?" Bastian inquired.
"No," Katz's eyes flicked away thinking of Alessandro, uncertain of who they were to each other now that he knew there was no future there.
"You said that with some finality," Bastian observed. "I take it there was someone."
"In my life," Katz answered sitting forward and flicking his cigarette ash into the tray, "it's always was. I don't pick winners."
Bastian chuckled. "Women are like Zero-point reactors, wondrous things but no one's quite sure how they work..."
"Women!" Katz chuckled. "You never paid a lot of attention to your brothels, did you? Women weren't exactly the number one clientele."
Bastian paused, his hand searching for his spoon, ladling himself some pasta. "I suspected. Guava isn't exactly a masculine scent."
"No that's more bathhouse chlorine, ganja and of course semen and sweat," Katz fired back. "I'll take smelling like a girl over reeking of that."
"You're still so confrontational," Bastian complained, "caustic and jaded. I have a feeling we could have been good friends in another lifetime."
"Reincarnation, resurrection, it's more common than you know," Katz said. "Except it's never the right people. Always..." He stopped, frowning across the table at Bastian, watching his face flowing, morphing into something else.
"Always the ones that least deserve it?" Bastian asked, staring back at Katz wearing the pilot's own visage.
"Oh, hell no," Katz said, a long drawn out sigh as he shifted in his seat. "This is the part where I ask what the fuck, you say something cryptic, and then try to kill me. Then you take my place and get close to Darien."
"On the contrary," Bastian/Katz answered, "my target is you, Alvin Katz, Paladin-one." He set his hands on the table before him, turning the palm of his right hand up to show the flat black stone set there. "The Lady Tagria wishes you dead and has offered a sizable sum for me to deliver."
"Who?" Katz inquired, his hand tightening around his fork. "Never heard of her."
"She considers you her enemy, and since you so conveniently blundered across my path, I considered this to be good for business," Bastian/Katz raised his palm, training it on Katz "Be a good lad now and die quietly."
Katz blew out some smoke as he stared across the table, looking at himself, shaking his head. When had he become so accustomed to the bizarre that the situation didn't surprise him?
"How long have you been Bastian?" Katz asked, sitting bolt upright. "Hours... days... weeks..." his voice dipped, "years?"
"I see this may give you some small measure of peace," Bastian answered, "I've been Bastian Kingston for many years now, perhaps too many years in a guise that I became my cover. I hear it is a common occurrence for those that spend too long lying in wait."
"What are you?" Katz nodded across the table. "You're not human..."
"Oh my race is near extinct," came the answer. "If any of my brethren remain I would be surprised. The Qalabarim choose the wrong side in a war long ago, and we paid for it. Not that it really matters much, my race weren't well adapted to flourish. In fact, I think we do better living in the shadows, scraping life where we can. Changing our faces, our lives depending on what our needs are. Maybe becoming a fighter pilot."
"You created my life and you're welcome to it," Katz answered, sinking back into his seat stubbing out his cigarette. "Trust me, it's not that great. You'd probably be better changing your face the first moment you get and be done with it."
The Qalabarim adjusted its weapon, raising an eyebrow. "You don't fear death, might explain why Tagria is so afraid of you. Desperate enough to offer a decent enough reward for you, anyway."
"So," Katz said, leaning back in his chair so that it tilted on its two back legs, "get on with it."
Bastian/Katz paused. "I'm sorry boy, for everything. My survival required that I rid myself of threats. People that could identify that I wasn't actually who I pretended to be."
"The truth at last," Katz observed. "Jesse was a threat, and I was just collateral damage on your road to survival. Nice." The bitterness in his tone matched the hollowness in his eyes.
"Remorse doesn't afflict me," the Qalabarim said, his voice tightening. "I had to survive, like you did."
Katz laughed emptily. "Yeah, I survived. I closed my eyes and found a little place in the back of my mind where I wouldn't hear the voice in my head screaming. You want to kill me now, after all that you put me through? Go for it, do me a favour."
The Qalabarim shifted, raising the palm of his hand. "This won't hurt."
"Good, you've done enough of that already," Katz said with a shrug, the fork in his hand sliding up towards his wrist. "You know, Jesse wondered what had happened to his dad. Why he'd suddenly abandoned him like that."
The Qalabarim's face flicked back to Bastian's visage. "Maybe, then, this would make it easier for you..."
Katz smiled coldly. "Yep," he answered, pushing backwards in his chair and throwing the fork. The blast from the Qalabarim's weapon roared through the air where he had been, crashing into the china cabinet and sending dishes cascading to the floor. There was a yelp of pain from the Qalabarim as Katz's fork sunk deeply into him, and he cursed as he got to his feet, watching Katz scramble for cover behind the kitchen island.
It tore the fork free, watching the wound knit together as it snarled, "You will pay for that, boy!"
"My rate was two hundred credits an hour," Katz called out from behind the island, dragging his TAC-link out and punching the emergency channel as he slid it away from him, under the stove, "but they liked me. I was young and young meant more money."
Bastian swung around the isle, keeping his palm weapon up as he sought Katz, swinging about again as he saw the boy dive through the kitchen door and into the living room of the suite.
"I bet you loved it," Bastian smiled, striding after the youth. "Somewhere deep down you have to miss the life. The satisfaction of knowing what you were good at."
Katz grabbed the back of the couch and flipped over it. Again the roar of the palm weapon blew the stuffing out of the couch pillows, a cloud of white down rained down over the living room like snow.
HMS Excalibur - Tight Orbit of Methuselah's Dûm - Imperial Apilon Rift Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY NINE
Darien, standing in the Propylon Chamber, looked across at Edward as Commander Durnham played the incoming transmission from Katz's TAC-link, complete with the sound of weapons fire...
"Aww hell!" Darien exclaimed, shakily getting to his feet and walking around the chamber. He looked across at Edward who, in turn, glanced back at him.
"You're going after him," Edward said quietly.
"I sent him there," Darien answered.
The Propylons were fully active, and Darien walked to the weapons locker, flipping it open and pulling out a Pulse Rifle, holding it loosely he caught his breath and blinked a few times. He was shivering again. He hated fevers, he was just glad he wasn't hallucinating.
He should get a coat, but his quarters were too far away so he reached into the equipment locker and pulled out a safety coat, one of the three quarter length bright orange hi-visibility things, it was the only thing in the locker with a fleece lining...
He swallowed again and wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he struggled to lock in the Propylons co-ordinates.
"They're not working at a hundred percent," Edward said warningly, "you could let a Marine boarding party go, or me go..."
"Ahh," Darien said with a smile, "that's just it Matt, this is my fault. You understand."
"Yeah, you're a dumb ass," Edward said, standing by the controls.
"I know," Darien said as he walked to the centre of the chamber, shrugging on the orange coat and cocking the Pulse Rifle. "Just do it."
He vanished into a column of light as the Excalibur transferred main power to the Propylons. Luckily it was inbound or he would never have survived the trip, as the Propylons flared again and error messages sprang up around the chamber. Edward sighed resignedly and slid a chair back towards him and set about repairing the damage Darien's impromptu trip had done.
The Propylon computer gave a whimper and exploded into a shower of sparks as the main power fed to it overloaded the delicate circuits. And Edward's face grew a little annoyed as he looked up, "I hate you sometimes Darien, I really do."
Darien rematerialized in the darkened bedroom of the suite and staggered a moment from the disorientation. That had to be the roughest ride he had ever taken through the Propylons.
He swallowed, stepping out onto the landing that overlooked the living room below and propping himself up against a support pillar to keep his footing, bracing himself. He looked down over the scene of carnage and destruction. Katz looked like he could use a hand. Darien smiled at that, and the whine of his Pulse Rifle powering up caused both Katz and the Qalabarim to look up at him.
"Evening, gentlemen," He said, keeping them both covered with the rifle. His head was swimming in a fog, but he did his best not to let it show. "You know, I was just sitting at home, wondering what I should do tonight, stay in and..." He swallowed again and shook his head to clear it, "...stay in and wash my hair or go out and find myself some action. This isn't the kind of action I was looking for, but hey I still get to enjoy myself."
Darien felt his strength ebbing, of all the times he didn't need this. He stared down at Bastian, his palm outstretched, looming over Katz, pinned back against a bulkhead. And he fired a warning shot between them. "Back, Captain Kingston, there's a good man."
Kingston spun, abnormally quickly, bursting out a series of shots that reminded Darien of a PKD set on rapid fire. He retreated back behind the pillar, pinned down by the alien's gunfire.
"Surrender," he called down, as a hail of blasts rained down around him, an ancient earth game, frogger, exploded across from him. He winced, that had to be an antique. He stood up to fire again, but stumbled, dropping to his knees, the rifle slipping from his hand.
He reached for it as Bastian sprang, leaping from the deck below to land on the upper balcony. His black boot came down across the Pulse Rifle, and he levelled his palm at Darien's forehead.
"Well I guess it's too late to wash my hair," Darien said, standing up and lifting his hands.
Kingston shook his head, looking down at Katz. "I underestimated you, boy."
"Meh," Katz shrugged his hands up as well, "happens all the time. I'm a young pretty boy, people think I'm useless."
Darien stepped back, his hands still raised. "There are security teams on the way, my ship knows where I am."
"Yeah," Katz called out, "and his boyfriend may be short, but he can pack a mean punch if you so much as mess with a single hair on Dee's head there."
Bastian hesitated. "I didn't want to involve you in this Taine. It is between me and the boy." He turned, keeping Katz covered with the palm weapon. "I have a right..."
Darien's hands dipped, falling to his side, closer to Ra's shard weapon, hidden from sight under the bright orange coat. "I can't let you harm him," Darien said evenly, "he's a part of my family."
"Funny," Bastian said with regret, "he was part of mine as well." He looked down at the boy.
Darien's hand swung up, and the shard weapon pressed neatly against Bastian's temple. A simple, fluid motion that caught the Qalabarim unprepared.
"Don't even twitch," Darien warned. "I'm not much of a shot these days, but this is point blank range and I am fairly certain I won't miss."
"And I am undone by a cripple?" Bastian inquired rhetorically. "There is something poetic in that, I guess." He moved, and Darien fired, the Qalabarim's body falling to the floor in a pile, his head taken clear off by the Polian shard. The weapon the alien was carrying clattering to the deck below, bouncing to Katz's feet.
"Are you all right?" Darien called down, looking across at Katz.
"I think I will be," Katz answered, kneeling to scoop up the black stone. "Thank you... again."
Darien nodded grimly, turning away as he lifted his TAC-link. "All secure here..."
The Qalabarim twitched, its hand curling around Darien's discarded Pulse Rifle, rising up as its head reformed.
The explosion of goo sprayed Darien from head to toe, causing him to almost leap out of his skin, spinning and falling back against the wall to look at Katz standing below, the Qalabarim weapon raised in his palm.
"Sorry," Katz said apologetically. "He was going to... well... sorry."
Darien scooped the goop off of the back of his neck, flicking it aside as he shook his head, "Typical..."