Joining of Lines

A Drath Romance Novel

Meyari McFarland

MDR Publishing

Contents

1. Con-Man Hustle

2. Stiff-Necked Fool

3. Panic Attack Revelations

4. Alarmingly Dangerous

5. Old Rivalries

6. Hidden Faults

7. Warnings Heeded

8. Hidden History

9. One Step Forward

10. Facing Fears

11. Two Steps Back

12. Escape Run

13. Drathanni Pride

14. Drath Laughter

15. Power of the Drath

16. Strohkirch's Secrets

17. Secrets Within Secrets

18. Begin Again

Other Romance Books by Meyari McFarland:

Author’s Note: Clash of Lines

1. Chance Encounter

2. Battle Worthy

Afterword

Author Bio

Other Romance Books by Meyari McFarland:

Matriarchies of Muirin:

Coming Together

Fitting In

Following the Beacon

The Solace of Her Clan

The Manor Verse:

A New Path

Following the Trail

Crafting Home

Finding a Way

Go Between

Like Arrows of Fate

The Drath Verse

Clash of Lines

You can find these and many other books at www.MDR-Publishing.com. Sign up for our newsletter to get the latest news and special offers!

Copyright ©2016 by Mary Raichle

Cover image

© Surpasspro | Dreamstime.com - Young Urban African American Male Shirtless Photo

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be emailed to me_ya_ri@yahoo.com

This book is also available in TPB format from all major retailers.

Created with Vellum

This story is dedicated to my Uncle Pat and Wayne, his lover of 40-some years for being my first example of a truly dedicated gay romance. Not the last but forever the first and closest to my heart because until I met them, rather too late in life, I didn't realize that gay romances were just as enduring as straight ones.

1. Con-Man Hustle

The flyer was silent, vibrating slightly as Jing pushed it to the limits of its engines. Threats to the Ceelen, come home immediately. The message Jing had received had been sadly lacking in details and mysteriously urgent in demanding his return home. Odd from his cousin Nthanda Ceelen, Lord of the Ceelen. Generally, Nthanda took great care not to give direct commands to Jing as they held very close to the same rank. Jing was older by nearly a full year but slightly lower in rank.

Had Nthanda not been born, the sole child of his uncle to survive, then it would be Jing who was Lord of the Ceelen. Three generations of increasing difficulty in having children had convinced Jing's father and his uncle that mechanical means were better than natural ones. Every natural pregnancy had failed before the baby reached even the bump stage in their mothers' bellies. Thus they had fought with the baby chambers that the Ceelen had commissioned in a mostly forlorn effort to create heirs to the line.

Not that the baby chambers had succeeded any better. Only Jing and Nthanda survived out of dozens of attempts. Sometimes Jing suspected that Nthanda wished that he had not been born. The man was horrifically stubborn about allowing bodyguards and he threw himself into dangerous situations with no regard for what that would do to the people dependent upon him.

Jing had given up scolding Nthanda for his lack of bodyguards over a decade ago.

His nose was still rather flatter and more bent to the right than it should be. Nthanda did have an excellent left hook. As well as a nasty flying kick and his temper was a legendary thing while Jing's temper was a slow burning coal that only rarely flared into active flame.

What worried Jing as he flew all speed across the system was that there had been no further messages from the Graceful Swan, great blocky flagship of the Ceelen that it was. Normally he would have gotten follow-up messages from Lee, commander of the Ceelen Guard, or Imani, Nthanda's chief of staff. They understood Jing's desire to have full information on the situations he was entering. Most of the time, Lee would give him a briefing ahead of time on what physical threats there were. And Imani's rants about Nthanda's latest failures to follow protocol while risking life and limb did a lovely job filling Jing in on the rest of the situation.

He pondered sending a message to request confirmation, explanation, even a comment to Nthanda that this dignified silence was unlike him but quite becoming of the Lord of the Ceelen (even though he knew it would make Nthanda punch him again once he arrived), but he didn't.

It would give his unwilling passenger entirely too much ammunition for whatever new con he was brewing.

There was a faint smell of scorching, not from the flyer's stressed engines, of course, but from his very unwelcome passenger. Iman Hogarth sat in the copilot's seat with his hands firmly clasped in his lap. The man was tall and muscular, skin the shade of new copper wiring and hair dyed blond, green and brilliant neon blue in cascading stripes down his back. He was as attractive a man as Jing had ever seen but the illusion was destroyed every time Iman opened his full-lipped mouth.

Iman smiled, bright and frenetic, as soon as Jing's eyes slid his way. "So we are getting close, yes? We must be. I don't see a ship but don't the Ceelen usually paint their ships black? I never knew why anyone would do that. Doesn't it make the ship blend into the background? I suppose that could be useful but truly, how do you find it? Especially if there's a battle going on. Oh, but if there's a battle going on there would be weapons going off so you might see them. I guess that makes sense."

"Stop talking," Jing snarled at Iman.

Iman pouted, sagging back in the copilot's seat only to jerk as Raven snarled at him and tapped her blaster against his shoulder.

And that, likely, was where the smell of scorching came from. Raven liked Iman even less than Jing did. Considerably less as she regularly threatened with all seriousness to space Iman if he opened his mouth. Her blaster was fully charged, ticking slightly with the heat of it in the quiet of the cabin.

The rest of Jing's bodyguards were getting their weapons recharged, replacing damaged armor and probably complaining, very quietly amongst themselves, that life would be easier if Jing didn't have a fondness for tall, muscular men with very quick minds. Certainly, it would be better if he could fall in love with one of his bodyguards, all lovely women with quick minds and beautiful muscles yes, but he had never found women interesting.

Not that he was in love with Iman, either. The man just had a damnable gift for getting into trouble and then drawing Jing in after him. Jing would have left him to his well-earned fate years ago if it weren't for Iman's encyclopedic knowledge of rich, powerful and thoroughly law-breaking people in the human sphere. As well as many outside of human space.

Nearly anything that Jing wanted to know, Iman could tell him. For a price. If the man were any less accurate and any less attractive…

But he wasn't and Jing's new cloak was burnt to a crisp back on Tasma, along with Jing's barely fledged hopes of finding out who was behind the never-ending war between the space-faring families, the Ceelen most definitely included. Raven had saved Jing's life, gotten Jing out, and then cursed a wide streak when she realized that Iman had gotten out of the casino/brothel with them.

"Oh, there it is," Iman breathed. "I hadn't realized that it was so large. Ten thousand in staff? No, it must be closer to twelve. And I'd guess that you could hold at least twenty thousand more on a temporary basis. It's practically a moon on its own, just with such lovely large engines. Must be able to travel between stars in a matter of days with those engines. How interesting that it stays in the Melin system all the time. One wonders why. Eep! Raven, light of my life and terror of my loins, that blaster is very hot. You're going to set off the fire suppression systems if you don't ah, well then, no need to turn it down I suppose."

His voice trailed off as Raven moved to press the nose of her blaster against his neck. The smell of scorching switched to one of burnt flesh.

"Don't kill him," Jing said as he pointed the flyer towards the main landing bay. Which, oddly, had battle scars around the entrance. "Raven. When did we last hear of battle for the Graceful Swan?"

"Oh dear," Iman breathed. He leaned forward to peer at the view screen, eyes wide as he studied the blaster marks. The burn on his neck was already healing. "That looks bad."

"Three years ago, my Lord," Raven said. She poked her blaster into the small of Iman's back. "Shut up and sit back, you. I don't know why you're not dead already."

"The blessings of the Lady Luck and that your wonderful Lord Jing adores me," Iman said so brightly that Jing groaned. "Or, perhaps, just luck. Ahem. I'll be quiet now. Truly I will. I do know how. Just rarely feel the need to silence myself, you know. The tension gets to one when its too quiet and then I find words just flying out of my mouth and I'm off on another terrifying adventure. It's quite horrifying, really. I'd far rather raise beans and write poetry than live this life."

Beans and poetry. Every single time the man babbled about what he wanted to do with his life it was beans and poetry. Jing glared at Iman who, finally, snapped his mouth shut. Probably more for Raven's snarl than Jing's glare but at least the man shut up at last.

The landing bay was, in fact, a barely cleaned up battle field. No bodies but plenty of scorched marks where people had been vaporized. Jing frowned as the tractor beam deposited them in their landing cradle and then gestured for both Raven and Iman to follow him.

"I would appreciate you keeping your mouth properly shut," Jing told Iman. "This is official Ceelen business and I do not need it complicated by your plots, cons, flights of fancy and babbling."

"I don't plot," Iman protested with wide eyes and a hand over his chest as if he was truly hurt by the accusation. "My dear Lord Althuis, I never plot these things. They just happen. Probably because yes, I do tend to babble when I'm nervous. Ah, Raven, darling? Jabbing me in the spine with a fully charged blaster makes me very nervous indeed. Not conducive to following his orders."

"Stop it," Jing ordered Raven. "There's been a battle. Focus. Who knows how long ago it was or if it's even over? We've already taken Hogarth's weapons. No need to fuss over him."

Raven gritted her teeth but she did back off enough that Iman breathed an extravagant sigh of relief. It loosened the man's shoulders, put a little bounce in his step that made that rainbow hair wave enticingly, and set him to smiling far too brightly. Damn the man. If he weren't such a con-man Jing would throw him down on whatever flat surface happened to be available and ravish him but Jing couldn't hope that he'd come out of the encounter with his credit line intact, his reputation unsullied and without a knife decorating his shoulder blades as Iman left.

"Shall I take him to the brig?" Raven asked. Neutral, quiet, utterly vicious as she glared at Iman.

"No, I won't inflict him on any of the captives Nthanda may have," Jing said. "Besides, he might team up with them and take over the ship. Best to keep him close."

Iman huffed, bottom lip pouted out. "I saved your life. Three times today alone. And this is how you repay me?"

"My life needed saving because you drew me into your mess," Jing snapped at him. "You're the one who shouted at me from across the casino floor. You're the one who was in trouble. I wasn't."

"You have no idea what you were walking into," Iman snapped right back. "Truly, at times I wonder why I bother. It must be your lovely face, Jing, because sadly your personality can be as dry as a lifeless desert planet sometimes."

Which, of course, was when Lee arrived. With, oddly, a beautiful young woman from Melin by his side who stared at them both before cocking her head and beginning to tap at her pad as if she knew Iman from somewhere and was trying to place him.

"Lee," Jing said with a proper nod.

Iman attempted to duplicate the nod but promptly turned it into a florid bow complete with a swirl of his extravagant coat tails which were as rainbow-bright as his hair. At least the outer layer of his coat was properly black but every time he moved the rainbow lining was exposed.

"Lord Jing," Lee said. One eyebrow went up but he didn't ask about Iman. Thankfully. "Lord Nthanda and King Ru asked that you be brought to them immediately. There is much you need to know. Shall we escort your… guest… to quarters?"

"No, I'd prefer to keep him with me," Jing said. "He excels at finding trouble. What happened? I heard of no threats of battle before I departed."

"This came from within, Lord Jing," Lee said as grimly as Jing had ever seen before. "It is part of what Lord Nthanda wishes to discuss with you."

"And King Ru?" Iman said in that bright tone that always meant his mind was running a thousand times faster than his mouth. "Odd. I hadn't heard of a king named Ru. I should have thought that I would have. Newly installed? Oh, he'd have to be, wouldn't he? And really, there's only one family lacking a king. So very strange though. Why is he here, on the Graceful Swan, when your families are such enemies?"

"What family would that be?" Jing asked because he might as well make use of Iman's gift of babbling his every thought once his mind ran away with him.

"Why, the Hyun-Ju, of course," Iman said. He frowned at Jing as if he was being horribly thick-witted. "They call their leader 'king' and they, as far as I know and I do tend to know a great many things about the bloodlines of the human sphere, are the only ones in this area lacking a proper leader. No offense, of course," he waved towards the young woman who was staring at Iman with her mouth open, "though you don't look to be Hyun-Ju. Su Carran, the regent? You do know who their regent is, don't you, my dear Jing?"

"Yes," Jing sighed and did his best not to blush at the way Lee stared at them both now. "I do."

"Ah, good, good," Iman said brightly and cheerfully though he did throw a worried look over his shoulder at Raven who was gritting her teeth again. "Su Carran has done a lovely job leading the Hyun-Ju on a never-ending search for a lost scion of their ruling family. I take it they finally found one? He must be quite competent to be declared King so quickly. I had thought that they intended to have trials for their kingly candidates if one was ever found. Warrior bloodline, you know. There are standards that must be maintained, just as Lord Nthanda and you, my dear one, are the only ones who fit the requirements of the Ceelen line."

The casual endearments had Jing's ears burning as first Lee and then his female friend staring at them. Then the guards behind Lee started staring and Raven growled so loudly that Iman clutched Jing's arm as if Jing would protect him from Raven.

"Raven."

"A gag would help," Raven grumbled.

"Who… is this, Lord Jing?" Lee asked.

"It's complicated," Jing said, waving away Lee's open mouth and raised eyebrows. "What did Nthanda need me for? I was… busy with something."

Something that might have led him to the people behind the family's troubles if only Iman hadn't interfered. Lee frowned and grumbled much like Raven always did when Jing ordered her to back off. Not very surprising given that Lee was Raven's full brother. Nearly a decade older so they'd not spent much time around each other growing up.

"Lord Nthanda is contemplating stepping down," Lee said, swallowing as audibly as Jing did. "He will explain why. You will be required to take his place as Lord."

"Oh goodness, that's a terrible idea," Iman said and then huffed when Jing hissed at him. "Darling. Beautiful boy. Really now. It's an absolutely horrific idea. There's no possibility of it working out well for you, your cousin or the Ceelen. Simply cannot be done. No. We'll have to have a good solid talk with him, convince him of the foolishness of the idea."

"Iman," Jing sighed and desperately wished that he could haul Iman off to a private room with proper soundproofing so he could find out exactly what was going through that mind.

"Who is he?"

Lee's shout made Raven flinch, Jing sigh and Lee's lovely young lady snort a little laugh. Before Jing could muster an explanation, as if there was any explaining the chaos demon that was Iman Hogarth, Iman smiled his brightest, most manic smile.

"Why, I'm Jing's fiancé, of course," Iman said. "So really, I do know what I'm talking about when I say that this plan of Lord Nthanda's just won't work. Do be a dear and lead us there so that we can discuss it properly like civilized people, won't you?"

2. Stiff-Necked Fool

Seriously, another fine mess that Jing had drawn Iman into. First, walking straight into an assassin's den with two bodyguards and only the lightest of body armor, then utterly destroying the deal that Iman had been working to delve into exactly who was manipulating the various space-faring families of human space, and now this. One of these days Iman was going to let Jing bumble his way right into one of his messes and not haul him back out again.

Except that no, of course he wouldn't. The man was entirely too honorable and stiff-necked to survive the messes he created. Sometimes Iman thought that Jing really didn't know just how much trouble he sowed striding about asking questions that cannot be verbalized.

And then other times he was utterly certain that Jing knew exactly what he was doing and did it on purpose just to make Iman's heart stop.

"Your…?" Lee Dirk, chief of the Ceelen's guard, spluttered. His face went very pale and his knees wobbled, as well they might. A sudden engagement of one of the highest people in your bloodline would do that, especially given that Iman wasn't very well known. At least in these circles. "My Lord!"

Jing stared at Iman, face frustratingly blank while Raven looked halfway to blowing Iman's head off. Terrifyingly competent woman. Someday soon he would have to sit down and ask her precisely why she let Jing do the things he did. She had to know that he was risking utter destruction. Didn't she?

"I thought you didn't want to tell anyone," Jing said so yes, Iman had been right that Jing's arm going hard as steel had been him panicking over the thought of taking over the Ceelen.

"No, darling, I wanted to wait until we were a bit more certain of things," Iman said. He tucked his fingers more firmly around Jing's bicep, frankly enjoying the feeling of all that lovely muscle. "But needs must, I'm afraid."

"Now I know you," Athaliah Faust breathed. She waved her pad at Iman, laughter behind her eyes because if anyone knew exactly who Iman was it was Bala and her right hand woman Athaliah. "I almost didn't recognize you with that hair. I don't like it. It's quite horrible."

Iman huffed at her, one hand over his heart specifically to make Athaliah roll her eyes. "Liah, my sweet darling child, you know nothing of Tasma fashion. This is the latest style and quite a becoming one if I do say so myself. Though I am thinking of adding purple tips to my hair. I think it would be the perfect complement, don't you, love?"

He looked at Jing who shook his head and frowned at Athaliah. Jing jerked his chin at her, the question clear even though Jing, as he so frequently did, didn't state it out loud.

"This, my wonder, is Athaliah Faust," Iman said. She snorted at him. "Brilliant young woman, truly, quite gifted with that pad of hers. No computer system she can't coax into working for her instead of against her. She works at the right hand of the Crystal Consort, Bala…" He stopped and stared at Athaliah who frowned and clutched her pad to her chest as if Iman might steal it. As if. It would probably blow up in his hands. "Bala Wirnhier. Who has a half-brother by the name of Ru. Ru Sashi. The new King of the Hyun-Ju, I take it. How very amazing. How did they manage to meet? Last I heard Ru was working exclusively as a delivery boy in the Undercity."

He stopped and looked at Lee with enough indignation that Lee bristled at him. Good. Distraction always was one of his best weapons for getting people to stop asking inappropriate and inconvenient questions. Until he had a chance to allow Jing to drag him into a private room, distraction seemed a very good idea.

"You didn't allow Lord Nthanda to wander off without his bodyguards again, did you?" Iman asked with his very best scolding tone of voice. "The boy is going to get himself killed doing that!"

"I didn't 'allow' him to do anything of the sort!" Lee shouted only to grit his teeth when Athaliah, annoying woman, put a hand on his arm. "Hmph. You have terrible taste, Lord Jing. Terrible!"

"Agreed," Raven snarled and well, there were better ways to distract people than by getting the back of his head blown off by an irate Raven. Which she certainly was. Irate, that is.

Jing shook his head and sighed, gesturing to Lee to taken them to his relatives. Good. Very good. Hopefully people wouldn't continue asking questions. Iman needed to think and he thought better when people weren't peppering him with ridiculously slow-witted questions about things that he'd figured out ages before.

And this, most definitely, was a situation that required very quick and very clear thought. As much as it pained Iman, he might have to bail on Jing. The battles between the Hyun-Ju and the Ceelen were legendary across this sector of the galaxy. They'd been enemies for two or three generations, competing for the same trade routes, fighting over imagined slights and generally behaving like toddlers slap-fighting over a toy. That one or the other of them had broken a while back, no less.

That said, those fights were not natural ones. They had been choreographed by another power, one hidden in the shadows that Iman had been tracking and carefully surveilling for quite some time. Most of his life, really. If they had suddenly put that battle aside, it was likely because the hidden puppeteer of the galaxy had decided to change the game.

Iman didn't want to be caught in the middle of that. He very much wanted to be well and away from it. Perhaps he could go visit the Drath or spend some time out on the Gemini worlds at the fringes of human space. The puppeteers, whoever they were, rarely exerted power out there. It would be far safer.

And yet, Jing allowed Iman to keep his fingers tucked around his arm, to walk so very close to his side as if Iman belonged there. It wasn't trust. At least Iman didn't think it was. So hard to read, Jing. He kept his emotions so firmly inside that only flickers ever showed in those beautiful green eyes. Mostly Iman had learned to read the minute quirks of his lips up or down, the slight pursing of that lush bottom lip, the appearance and disappearance of wrinkles at the corners of Jing's eyes.

He seemed grateful if confused right now. A good place to start. Hopefully they would get that chance to speak privately and then…

The elevator disgorged them onto a hospital level, white and antiseptic enough that Iman found himself shaking. Horrible places, hospitals. If he never had to set foot in one, it would be far too soon. Worse still, they were led straight into a treatment room where a man very much of the same mold as Jing sat with someone running a nanites diagnostic tool over his chest. Upgrades? Sensible. Insufficient if Iman was right.

"You!"

Iman jumped and then hid behind Jing whose choked little laugh was probably inaudible to everyone but Iman. He found himself staring at Bala who had bruises around her throat, fading yes, but bruises, and cuts on her cheeks that were at least scabbed over. What in the world has happened that the Crystal Consort herself had gotten injured? Strangled, even.

"What are you doing here?" Bala demanded.

"Oh great, you brought the fop," a young man that Iman only recognized as Bala's brother Ru after a moment of staring. He'd grown nearly six inches since the last time Iman saw him six years ago. "That Jing, yeah?"

"Yes, he is," Nthanda said, staring at Iman and then at Jing who was going redder and redder while remaining sadly silent. "Who is he?"

"A con-man," Bala said.

"Fop and a fool," Ru said.

"My fiancé," Jing said, of his own free well no less, and then sighed when Iman impulsively hugged him. "It's a long story. What in the names of the hundred thousand gods happened here?"

"You can't marry him!" Bala and Ru said at the exact same time in the exact same tone of voice.

Which was, thankfully for Iman, the exact tone of voice that always got Jing's back up. He hated to be told what he could and could not do so yes, Jing stiffened and glared at them completely forbiddingly. Having Jing defend him almost made up for having to be in a hospital.

"I can and will do exactly what I wish to do," Jing snarled at them both. Wonderful man. Beautiful man! He had such a gift for making Iman's heart turn flips and his underwear become a mess. "You haven't answered the question, Nthanda. What happened?"

Nthanda sighed, waved at Ru, who back down frowning, and Bala who snarled and glared and only backed down when Jing put his hand on his weapon. Same old Bala, holding grudges for things that Iman didn't do. It would be nice if she'd actually listen to his explanations once in a while but so few people did. Even Jing didn't truly listen to him more than once in a great while.

When Nthanda stood, one hand on Ru's shoulder, it was to lead them further into the phobia-triggering hell that was the antiseptic hospital. To a room with five identical women with copper skin and glaring hazel eyes that Iman took one look at and then hauled Jing right back out of the room, down the hallway and away from them

Away from the women, away from the antiseptic, away from the shouted questions from Nthanda and Ru and Lee and Athaliah, though her question was far quieter and more respectful of the panic attack that Iman was attempting to push away. Raven followed. So did the rest of Jing's body guards. Nthanda and Ru did as well.

Jing finally pushed Iman into a room. Nice, a lovely little conference room with a big table for four in the middle, room for pacing which Iman immediately did and lovely soft chairs that Ru, Nthanda and Jing settled into. Raven, bless her cranky violent soul, took up post outside the room so he didn't have to worry about being shot for his panic.

"Words," Jing said after Iman had paced exactly one thousand, two hundred and eleven steps back and forth across the room.

"Darling, as much as I love you," Iman said, hands shaking and voice shaking worse, "I'm afraid I may have to break up with you. I just realized that I forgot an appointment. With a Drath. Yes, a Drath on the far side of the galaxy. Somewhere near their home world. Indeed. Very important, that appointment. Might take decades to complete."

"Why?" Jing asked and the slow drawl of the world was calm, not at all judgmental. Bless him all the way down to his oblivious little heart.

"Those women," Iman said. He waved back towards the hospital and did his best to ignore Ru and Nthanda's sudden alertness. "Do you know who they are?"

"No, but I assume you're about to tell me," Jing said. He smiled with just a hint of ruefulness, a hint of amusement in those beautiful dark eyes. "In great detail."

"Oh no, not great detail," Iman said.

Laughed and then had to sit with his head in his hands because damn it, there was the panic attack he'd tried to hold off. Not even counting his paces had calmed him enough. He shuddered and did his best not to whimper as the fear clawed inside of him. Rather too much like that time he'd gotten infected with parasitic lice that had burrowed under his skin and attempted to eat him from the inside out. Much too much like it, really, as Iman's skin itched and burned with his sweat, his breath caught and his whole body felt as though it was about to fall to pieces right there.

But then Jing pulled him closer, let Iman put his head against Jing's chest and no, the foolish man wasn't wearing heavy body armor under his lightly armored coat. Only a light chest piece, nothing else. It did let Iman hear his heart beat, steady and grounding as so little was when Iman was in the throes of a panic attack. That plus the hand rubbing over Iman's back, the warmth of Jing's breath rhythmically spreading over Iman's cheek, and the panic began to recede.

Slowly. Incompletely. But better than Iman had any right to expect. He really would hate leaving but there was no way he could stay and face them.

"Who are they?" Jing asked and his voice, wonder of wonders was still gentle, comforting, not at all demanding.

"They call themselves the Collective," Iman said, shutting his eyes because he couldn't face reality where he was in their sights. "I know very little about them. They are… assassins. Thieves. Spies. Always for hire. Always lethal when crossed." He raised his head and looked at Nthanda, at Ru. "Please say that none of them have been killed. Please. I desperately need to know that they're not going to be coming here to kill everyone. Especially me."

"Can't say that," Ru said slowly, wincing when Iman whined. "Sorry. Athaliah apparently blew the head off of one."

"Please give Bala my condolences for the loss of her aide," Iman said, leaning more firmly against Jing as the shakes started up again. "I grieve for her loss. And I strongly recommend that we get married right this instant and take a very egregiously long honeymoon to the far reaches of the human sphere. For the rest of our lives. Because that's the only way we will survive, my dear Jing. I don't want to die. I don't. And you keep drawing me into these disasters one after another. I always knew you'd be the death of me but I didn't expect it to be so very literal. The least you could do is take me to bed properly first."

Jing's hand clapped over Iman's mouth which was probably a good idea because he really couldn't stop the flow of words without assistance right now. Fear and worry and the annoyingly uncontrollable anxiety that had always made focus so very hard were making him feel like he was about to fall to pieces.

Though Jing's arms and his warmth and the smell of spices, cinnamon and cardamom from the meat bun he must have had for lunch before attempting to die by assassin den, did help. So very much.

He would miss Jing when he was dead. He would miss life when he was dead.

Because this was going to kill him and there was absolutely nothing that Iman could do to stop it. One didn't stop the Collective. It simply wasn't possible. So death was coming and Iman was going to have to submit to it, as much as it made him tremble in fear and regret. At least he got a proper hug from Jing at last. It was better than he'd thought it could be. Iman wished it could go on forever.

3. Panic Attack Revelations

Iman smelled of smoke, scorched hair and, very faintly, rosemary. Odd. Jing had no idea what he might have eaten back on that gods-forsaken casino station to smell like rosemary. But he did. And he trembled like a child after a nightmare, clinging to Jing as if Jing was the only thing keeping him from curling into a ball and sobbing.

Was this the real Iman?

Was there a real Iman? Hard to tell given that Iman was a con-man of the highest caliber. It was, at the very least, a completely real panic attack and Jing was relatively certain that Iman's desire to run for the far side of the galaxy was real, too.

Strange that he seemed determined to take Jing with him but it was probably another version of Iman's overuse of endearments. At least it aided in the illusion that they were engaged, perhaps even lovers. They'd certainly been as close as lovers over the last few years though only when people were trying to kill them.

Nthanda frowned at Jing, not Iman, slowly rubbing his bruised and cut arm. Which, surprisingly, was healing at a magical rate.

"You upgraded your nanites?" Jing asked. He made a point to keep his grip over Iman's mouth light. No reason to get bitten. Again.

"I insisted," Ru said. "You know he's a con-man."

"Oh yes," Jing said. "And he knows more about the people I've been hunting than even your… sister?"

"Half, yeah," Ru agreed with a little nod and casual shrug as if being siblings with the Crystal Consort, she of the galaxy-encompassing information network, was minor.

"He knows more than your sister does," Jing finished. "Which is very helpful indeed for me. Even if he does drag me into danger on a regular basis."

Iman gripped Jing's wrist, tugged his hand down, all without opening his eyes or stopping shaking. "I beg your pardon. You drag me into trouble. I was in no danger whatsoever. I was, in fact, in the midst of a highly lucrative deal that would have netted me some very valuable information along with some lovely little baubles that would have paid for my lifestyle for the next year or two."

Jing snorted, amused. "You had assassins after you."

Iman stopped shaking, pushed himself up so that they were nearly nose to nose. His eyes were deadly serious, exhausted, yes, but as serious as Jing had ever seen. They always shifted color with the light in the room and the clothing he wore. Right now, Iman's eyes were hazel-gold with flecks of blue. Sometimes they were nearly pure grey. Other times they had looked ice-blue.

"The assassins were after you, darling," Iman murmured. "Your penchant for asking inappropriate questions has put quite the mark on your head. I only called you over because you were about to walk into an execution with only two bodyguards, a lightly armored jacket and," he tapped Jing's chest, "the lightest body armor available. I'm not sure your shields were even fully charged given how the fire fight went."

And that was a bit of a revelation, now wasn't it?

Jing stared into Iman's eyes, seeing nothing but exhausted truth there. A chill ran up Jing's spine. Iman was still shaking, very slightly, so Jing pulled him back into his arms where Iman sighed and relaxed like a cat finally getting the cuddle it had wanted.

It had been a trap. Not good. Worse still, Jing, Raven and all his bodyguards hadn't been aware that it was a trap. The news tempted him to reassess the many interactions he'd had with Iman over the last six years but no, not with Nthanda and Ru watching. And especially not with the argument that Jing knew was coming hanging over their heads.

"He's as bad as you are," Ru said to Nthanda.

"I most certainly am not," Jing protested while Nthanda groaned dramatically. "I have the best bodyguards on the market. He goes about by himself as if he was invulnerable. Where did you meet, Nthanda? I know it can't have been at a proper function."

"Undercity," Ru said, eyes suddenly dancing with amusement. He really was attractive in an insanely dangerous and sharp-edged way. No wonder Nthanda looked at him with such devotion. "By himself. No armor. No watch. Nothing. Almost took a knife to the neck."

"He is as bad as you are, beloved," Iman mumbled which…

Really now.

Jing shook his head and decided not to open that old, old argument, not when Iman still trembled in his arms and there were assassin-spies in the hospital magnetically chained to the floor. He really didn't want his nose broken yet again. Nthanda looked as though he wanted to argue the point but Ru raised one thin eyebrow and Nthanda sighed and slumped in his chair.

Goodness, that was a shift. Nice one to see. Nthanda had always needed someone who could stand up to his stiff-necked determination. Jing hoped that Ru would continue it for the rest of their lives. It would do very well for the Ceelen. And perhaps the Hyun-Jun, too?

"All right," Jing said in his 'no more banter' tone of voice that usually managed to make Nthanda stop dancing around subjects. "Tell us what happened, Nthanda. Lee said something about battles from within and babies and me taking over the Ceelen. None of it was coherent. A detailed explanation, please."

Nthanda sighed, rubbed his hand over his hair and then nodded. "It will take some time."

"We have it," Jing said with a nod of his own towards Iman cuddled in his arms.

"I suppose we do," Nthanda said, lips quirking upward as he stared at Iman and then dropping back down again as he began to talk, Ru interrupting frequently to remove the studied formality and careful downplaying that Nthanda attempted to do.

It was quite the explanation, starting in the Undercity of Hexal City where Ru and Nthanda battled thugs and Guards, saved each other, and then, over the course of twelve hours, discovered that Neelam Garcia, the chief of accounting for the entire Ceelen Line, was not only a spy and a traitor but that she and her clone-sisters (who might not actually be clones but could instead be identical litter-mates) had kidnapped Nthanda's children straight out of the baby chambers they'd been growing in. All for some grander plot that tied the Ceelen's troubles having children with the Hyun-Ju's loss of their leading family a generation and a half ago. Of which Ru was miraculously the only survivor.

Every bit of it tied into the troubles and plots that Jing had been quietly tracking. Or perhaps not so quietly if Iman was telling the truth that he had been about to walk into an assassination. So many pieces fit together with the bits of information he'd found. Disturbing, that. He'd thought that he was chasing a small conspiracy but if this tied together as Ru and Nthanda believed then what he'd seen was only the edges of a much larger problem, a much larger effort to destroy all the space faring families who had been the first to capitalize on the faster than light Wave Drive engines once the Drathanni provided humanity with the key to their creation.

"Perhaps we should go to that meeting of yours with the Drathanni," Jing said once Nthanda and Ru finally finished their story.

Iman snorted a little laugh, rubbing his cheek against Jing's chest like an oversized cat. Damn the man for being so attractive when he was so utterly untrustworthy. And damn Nthanda for grinning at Jing as if he thought the two of them were adorable while Ru just snickered at them both.

"Oh shush, you," Iman said to Ru, changeable eyes still shut. "I've seen you in pigtails."

"You have not," Nthanda breathed, eyes going wide. "No."

"Oh yes," Iman said and he finally opened his eyes so that he could grin at Ru who was as red as if he'd been splashed with blood. "Six years ago. He was a chubby-cheeked lethal teenager who threatened to what was it?"

"Cut your balls off and fry them for dinner," Ru said. Despite his blush, Ru looked amused by Iman. "Because you're a con-man and a cheat and I know for a fact that you were counting cards."

"Darling, I don't need to count cards," Iman said in the exact same lofty tone he'd used the first time Jing accused him of cheating at dice. "There just aren't that many of them. The possibilities are clear. And you don't pay attention to the cards, you focus on manipulating the other players. Really. Learn gambling. It's quite a useful skill."

"You proposed to him?" Nthanda asked.

His voice quivered with laughter that didn't quite come out. Jing shrugged because really, he'd threatened to marry Iman specifically so he could divorce him messily and violently on the second firefight. And then threatened to hang him on the fifth. Which had been within six hours of each other.

Iman snickered. He rubbed his cheek against Jing's chest and sat up once more. Thankfully, he looked considerably calmer if completely exhausted so perhaps they would get more information about the so-called Collective from him now. Not likely but sometimes Iman was helpful without threats of violence and payments of large sums of money.

"Who proposed first?" Iman asked.

"I can't remember," Jing said with a little sigh. "Do we count firefight proposals or only ones made while running away?"

"Ah, a good question," Iman said so thoughtfully that he might actually be taking it seriously. Perhaps Jing should take it seriously given that Iman could, hopefully, be his ticket out of being Lord of the Ceelen. "You did propose very quickly indeed if we count firefight proposals. Personally, I was only counting the ones made while lying down together."

"Hmm, then you proposed first and I threatened to shoot you if you didn't shut up immediately," Jing said. He grinned at Iman's surprised look. "On the ah… station. You know. With the rats."

"Oh, the rats!" Iman groaned and shuddered. "Beloved man, please don't remind me of the rats. That was horrible. I developed quite the phobia of them because of that entire situation."

"And here I thought you already had the phobia given how grateful you were to me for killing them," Jing said.

He couldn't help but laugh at the arch look Iman leveled on him. And the stunned confusion on Nthanda's face. It was very rare to see Nthanda look that discomfited since they're reached the age of majority. Years ago, when they were both young and the only Ceelen heirs, they'd played together constantly and been the best of friends. Pity growing up had meant growing away.

"This," Ru said as he waggled one finger between the two of them, "is real. It's real. I can't believe it. Iman in a real relationship. The universe is broken."

"I beg your pardon," Iman huffed with real enough outrage that Jing raised an eyebrow. "I'm perfectly capable of relationships. Just… only with people who can keep up with me."

"And here I thought you had a hard time keeping up with me," Jing said in his mildest tone of voice specifically to make Iman glare at him.

He got the heart-stopping (and groin-waking) glare he wanted, plus a swat to his stomach that startled Jing into laughter. It really shouldn't be this easy to pretend to be married to Iman. They'd spent all their time together since first encountering each other getting shot at and fighting. Sometimes with other people, frequently with each other.

Jing hadn't realized that he'd memorized the way Iman's eyes flashed when he was angry, the way they went wide in surprise every time Jing did something unexpected, or the way his faint freckles disappeared into a short-lived blush when Jing stared at him. When had he started doing this memorization thing?

Honestly, Jing didn't know.

Every moment he'd spent around Iman had been another opportunity to memorize bits and pieces of his person, his behavior, the rare hints of his past mixed into the non-stop banter and blatant lies that fell from his lips. And the endearments. Used for everyone and everything as constantly as cosmic radiation flowing through the universe.

Odd to realize that Jing wished that Iman would only use them between the two of them.

This entire charade of being married was going to get Jing in much deeper than he expected. Yes, it might save him from taking Nthanda's place as leader of the Ceelen but at what price? Giving his heart to Iman, even secretly, was a stupidly foolhardy thing to do. Because no matter how smart and handsome and talented Iman was, he was a con-man.

Loyalty was not something Jing could ever expect from Iman and thus a real marriage wasn't something that he could ever have. The realization hurt. Jing wanted it. He wanted Iman. He wanted a home and family and Iman by his side drawing him into and out of trouble.

Sadly, Jing rarely got what he wanted so he might as well brace himself for disappointment from the outset. This was a ruse and nothing more. He'd just have to remember that when Iman's eyes softened and his cheeks flushed. Damn the man for being so impossibly attractive!

4. Alarmingly Dangerous

Iman pursed his lips against a dozen different replies. Certainly, yes, he'd tripped and nearly been killed as they ran for Jing's ship today but most of the time it was Jing who was running after Iman as they escaped from whatever explosion and infuriated people had happened. Still, the entire conversation seemed to have soothed Ru's suspicion. That was good. And Nthanda looked absolutely delighted by the two of them which was better.

"I'm going to ignore that," Iman said, sniffing and lifting his chin when Jing laughed, low and dirty, at him.

"You'll make wonderful rulers of the Ceelen," Nthanda said.

"No!" Iman snapped as he stabbed a finger towards Nthanda's sadly unbroken nose. No character at all compered to Jing's. "You are Lord. You will continue to be Lord. What sort of nonsense is this? No, no, don't tell me. Let me guess."

Nthanda opened his mouth, glowering until Ru put one hand on his arm. They exchanged looks, apparently holding a conversation through their individual systems except that Iman had thought that Ru had no cybernetic upgrades at all. With his nanites, the change could be recent and still be invisible but he rather doubted that.

The Collective were still chained in the hospital and that was a good place for them to stay. They couldn't, physically, have been chained that way for very long. It would cause too much damage to their bodies and frankly the batteries behind the magnetic systems would fail after six hours of continuous use.

That meant that the final battle against the Collective had been sometime in the last four or so hours at most. A reasonable amount of time. Thus the message they'd received during the firefight had been at the peak of the trouble on the Graceful Swan or very near to it. Less than three hours had passed. Insufficient time for cybernetics to interface with Ru's personal neural net and with his nanites.

Thus they were having one of those married people conversations where people talked without words just by knowing each other so well. How sweet! He glanced over at Jing and grinned at the way Jing raised an eyebrow. His eyes danced, though, so yes, he thought they were cute, too.

"Oh goodness, darling," Iman groaned.

"What?"

"We're doing it, too," Iman complained. He waved one hand at Nthanda and Ru who stared at him. "The married person silent conversation thing. They were just doing that. And we do it, too. Gracious. I hadn't realized that I'd fallen so far."

Jing snorted a laugh and grinned like the wild thing he was under his stolid exterior. It faded far too quickly but it was still nice to see him smile that way. Iman would have liked a much longer smile but that wasn't to be, not with the subjects that needed to be discussed and certainly not when Iman felt rather like he'd just stayed up for six days straight, all the while running for his life. Not something he ever wanted to repeat if possible.

"So guess," Ru said. He jerked his chin at Iman as if he didn't believe Iman could know what was happening.

"Certainly," Iman said.

He smiled at Nthanda's grumpy little frown, the nice big smile that always made people twitch. No reason to make this easy when Iman truly wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Or be hauled off to a private room with a bed so that he and Jing could ravish each other. Or at least have angry sex. He'd settle for angry sex. Perhaps after a good long nap but angry sex would be lovely.

"The battle against the Collective ended, oh, two and half hours ago," Iman said. It couldn't have been less given the time it took to reprogram dedicated nanites and couldn't have been much more than three given that Nthanda's injuries were only just healing now.

"How the hell?" Ru asked. His eyes went very, very wide.

"Logic, dear boy, logic," Iman said, waving away the stunned look on both their faces. "That means that the rest of the Collective will learn very soon that their members have been captured. You should expect an attack within the next half hour to hour. No more than that. Now, you, not knowing who or what the Collective actually is, probably assumed that the worst of the battle is over. It isn't. Not even vaguely. The worst is yet to come. So, given that Lee Dirk, the lovely Raven's ever so intimidating brother, stated that your children have been rescued, I'm assuming that you decided that you could retire, raise children together and… oh!"

He wagged a finger at Ru who slowly went bright red and squirmed.

"Naughty boy!" Iman huffed. "You can't make Nthanda abandon his duties here. Have you no idea whatsoever how much chaos that will cause in the Ceelen? They're quite dedicated to the idea of Nthanda as their leader. The instant he steps aside there will be strife, massive amounts of internal and external strife. Even if Nthanda made an open announcement of it, said that it was to marry you and raise children with you, the effects would be horrendous. People will assume that Jing was behind the attack, that he hired the Collective. It will play right into your enemies' hands."

"He does have a point," Jing said mildly enough that Iman suspected that he was trying to deflect any disapproval that might head for Iman. "People don't trust me the same way that they do you, Nthanda."

Nthanda groaned as he sagged back into his entirely comfortable chair. If, of course, it was as comfortable as Iman's. Seemed likely. At the same time, Ru cursed under his breath while glaring at the door as if he expected them to be attacked at any second. Which he should, frankly, but it didn't appear to be a real alertness to attack, only a foul mood.

The both of them needed to stop thinking that the world was a kind and gentle place. That either of them could, at all, was a shock. Iman wouldn't have thought that Ru in particular had any faith in the goodness of humanity left. He'd been a delivery boy in Hexal City, running legal, shady and outright illegal goods from one place to another for years, basically from the time they first met. Iman couldn't imagine just how many truly terrible people he'd met. But then Ru always had been a remarkably determined and myopic young man, seeing only what he wanted to and not necessarily what other people could.

From what he'd learned about Jing's family, Nthanda was a hugely open-hearted and trusting person who trusted instantly, was fiercely loyal and who would never trust you again if you betrayed his trust. Exactly what the Ceelen needed leading them and exactly what the Hyun-Ju would need if there was to be an alliance between the two families.

"Now," Iman continued before Ru and Nthanda could muster objections, "you are, I presume, planning a proper wedding? Uniting the Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju?"

"Yeah, we are," Ru said and there was that defiant determination that Iman had seen when Ru was still chubby boy trailing after Bala's heels. "You got a problem with that?"

"None whatsoever, dear boy," Iman said. He snorted at Ru's narrowed eyes and tapping fingers. "You're obviously smitten with each other. It's quite sweet. Marriage makes sense. Raising children, also quite logical. But the marriage and the alliance between the families will collapse if the two of you are not the leaders. The Ceelen would not follow Jing telling them to trust the Hyun-Ju. And frankly, if Jing was the ruler of the Ceelen I don't know that he would tell them to do anything of the sort. I fear that the Hyun-Ju may decide not to follow you even if you are their king."

Jing opened his mouth, left it open for a second and then sighed as he slowly shut it and leaned back in his chair as if distancing himself from the very concept. Very good. The man could learn not to speak every excessively blunt thought on his mind. Or perhaps he could do it when there were no blasters going off over their heads. He certainly excelled at it when they were facing death together.

"I didn't think of that," Ru admitted.

"Neither did I." Nthanda sighed. "I had wanted to just have it be the two of us. Well, us and the babies."

"A sweet image but not at all practical at this time," Iman said.

He would have liked to wave his hands, explain the shape of the disaster he saw if they backed away from their positions of power but he knew that his hands would shake far too much after that panic attack. As it was, he was barely staying upright and his exhaustion was going to get to the point that Iman wouldn't be able to stay awake very, very soon. It always happened after panic attacks. At least he was coherent after this one. Losing the ability to communicate was always horrifying. Granted, it was a brief reprieve. His body would win in the not at all distant future. Maybe ten minutes. Possibly fifteen.

"Back to the more important issues," Iman said. "The Collective will attack. Soon. You must be ready for it. They will attempt to rescue their sisters and they will be very upset that one is dead. Athaliah, the poor girl, is almost certainly going to die. I don't know what you can do to keep her alive at this point. You might want to let Bala know. She's so wonderfully creative when it comes to making people learn not to attack her people."

Both Ru and Nthanda stiffened at the news that Athaliah was doomed. Ru stood, stomped to the door and then stopped when Nthanda shut his eyes and communicated through his system. Interesting that Iman couldn't hear it. Most of the time his own cybernetic implants allowed him to listen in on everything around him, even private messages between individuals, but not this time.

Which meant that some very serious upgrades had to have happened already. Good to know.

"Can you access the system, darling?" Iman asked Jing. "No, I am not being difficult. I'm attempting to ascertain if the system on the Graceful Swan has been upgraded enough to fend off the Collective."

"...Yes," Jing replied with his customary reluctance to use electronic methods of communication. "But my access is limited."

"Oh, good," Iman said, smiling at him. "We might actually survive the next twelve hours then. Bala is wonderfully talented with computer systems. A bit predictable, perhaps, but very talented indeed. Do remind her to throw in some twists and turns suitable to Ru in a snit. That should help."

Jing frowned as he nodded. When he turned to Nthanda it was with such an intensely disapproving frown that Iman was rather shocked. Truly, upgrading the computer systems was a very good idea. Admirable, in fact. The sooner, the better. Goodness knows, Jing's flyer's systems were so rudimentary that Iman could have taken over and flown the thing with his eyes shut and his hands tied behind his back. And had that time that Raven and the other body guards had been gassed when Jing had a concussion.

Anything that made the Graceful Swan and thus Iman more secure was a lovely thing in his opinion. Apparently Jing didn't agree.

"What are you doing with the computers?" Jing asked.

"Upgrades," Ru answered before Nthanda could. "Major freaking upgrades. Damn things are as old as those stupid couches. Which, just so you know, are be reupholstered."

Iman frowned, confused, until he realized that Jing looked as delighted as he had ever seen. Wide eyes, mouth open, a grin so wide that it exposed his molars. My word. That was a sight that Iman did his very best to memorize because it made his heart beat faster for good reasons and his stomach turn flips.

"The couches will be comfortable?" Jing asked. He laughed and lightly tapped a fist to the tabletop three times. "Finally! I've been telling you to fix those damned things for years."

"Fine, you were right," Nthanda complained. "They'll have the same leather, just new stuffing and springs. Which is irrelevant compared to the threat against the Ceelen."

"And the Hyun-Ju," Iman said. He tapped the tabletop automatically counting the impacts until he realized that his hands were shaking violently again. Damn it. He was running out of time and his brain hadn't slowed down in the slightest. Those were always the worst crashes. "This isn't a threat only to your people, Nthanda dear. It's a threat to all the spacefaring lines. I was very close to getting a critical bit of information on the ones behind this when a certain cousin of yours decided to commit suicide by assassination."

"I didn't realize they were assassins," Jing groaned. "I thought they had information for me about all of this."

"Beloved man, darling, sweet heart of mine," Iman said, gripping Jing's knee tightly and then shaking him ever so slightly, "you really must learn the difference between asking reasonable and safe questions and inviting someone to blow your head off. I can't even count how many times I've had to save you from someone who decided it would be safer if you were no longer among the living."

Jing, stunningly, put his hand over Iman's. He even squeezed gently. Iman stared at their joined hands, stared into Jing's eyes, and then frowned at the concern there. Looked at Nthanda who was also frowning as if something was wrong. Ru had his head cocked to the side as well.

"You've gone mumbly," Jing explained. "I think the panic attack's taken its toll. Nthanda, let me put Iman to bed and then we can talk about what both of us have been up to. I think we need to share information before things get worse."

"Agreed," Nthanda said. "We'll be in the command center with Bala making sure the systems are updated and that the ah, Collective can't get in."

And that, apparently, was that. Both Nthanda and Ru left, leaving Iman alone with Jing for the first time in… well, years, actually. Raven made a point of not leaving them alone most of the time so he'd only had a few precious opportunities to be in private with Jing before.

"I did save you," Iman said, enunciating carefully so that Jing would understand him.

"I got that," Jing said. He stood and helped Iman stand up, supporting him when Iman's legs wouldn't cooperate with him. "I understood all of what you said. And we need to talk about it when you're not falling asleep. This engagement thing, too."

"Yes," Iman agreed. "Soon."

It came out more like 'yesh' and 'oom' so yes, he really was crashing. Now if only his brain would slow down at the same time when his body did. Such an annoyance, really, the way his mind sped up as his body slowed down. Someday he'd find a cure for that but it certainly wouldn't be today. The feeling of Jing's arms around him, his strong body pressed against Iman's, only made Iman more aware of just how little physical control he had at the moment.

At least he got another hug and a secure bed. Worth it just for that.

5. Old Rivalries

Iman asleep, curled up peacefully in a bed, was a wonder. Long lashes dark over his cheeks, full lips parted as he snored ever so quietly, one hand curled up under his cheek and the other held close to his chest. He slept on his side, in a loose fetal curl.

Honestly, Jing had expected a sprawl across the bed. For a person so very expressive, so dramatic, this quiet contained ball of Iman in his bed was a shock. Jing had to force himself to step away from the bedside. He made a point of closing the force-field curtains around the bed to protect and shelter Iman.

His rooms were exactly as he'd left them: Sparse, austere and uniformly undecorated. Jing had never understood Nthanda's fascination for keeping worn out clothes, furniture and decorations. Instead of keeping all of his old toys, Jing had thrown them out years ago. His bed was new. So was the desk and lounging chair across the room that Nthanda sprawled in.

"I can't believe you never told me about him," Nthanda murmured, softly out of respect for Iman's sleep.

Jing didn't bother. Once Iman was out, he was out. He could and had slept through explosions going off a couple hundred yards away. Annoying given that Jing woke up at the slightest little thing but Iman did have a terrible time falling asleep so it balanced out.

"Most of the time I've known him I've been half convinced I'm going to strangle him in a second or two," Jing said, completely honestly. "Besides, Raven loathes him. It's… an issue."

"It would be," Nthanda agreed. He shuddered. "I don't know what I'd do if Lee hated Ru. I can't see sending either of them away."

When Jing headed out into the living room of his suite Nthanda followed. Which was good. Jing found himself feeling profoundly reluctant to leave Iman alone. Not because of the damage Iman might do. He was asleep. But because he wanted to sit and stare at Iman and figure out exactly when this… thing between them had become something more than annoyance.

His living room was exactly as Jing had left it, too, down to the stack of paperwork on his desk that had not been filed. Jing shrugged and settled in to scan and file it, recycling each sheet as he went. Busy work of the highest order as the paperwork was nothing more than comments and suggestions from various people around the Graceful Swan for how to refurbish the garden level to make it more welcoming. The discussions were over. People had reviewed all of these. He could have just thrown them away but…

Work helped.

Nthanda snorted at him, arms crossed over his chest. "So, why didn't you tell me about him? You can't have possibly believed that I would disapprove."

"Nthanda, Iman is quite literally a con-man," Jing said. He finished the last sheet and then sighed as he turned to face Nthanda. And the frown that had bloomed. "He has, as far as I know, been arrested forty-seven times in the last eight years for various cons he tried to carry out. Yes, he's smart. Yes, he's very talented. Yes, he's phenomenally lucky or he wouldn't still be alive. The one thing he isn't is an appropriate match."

"You couldn't introduce him," Nthanda murmured. He sat on Jing's couch, a simple one with a sparse black twill cover that was easy to wash and simple to replace as necessary. A moment later Nthanda glowered at the couch and stood again.

"Your instance on uncomfortable furniture baffles me," Jing said with a grin that Nthanda rolled his eyes at.

"Your insistence on ignoring all our old traditions baffles me," Nthanda countered.

"I don't…!"

Jing stopped himself before he could start that old argument again. No. Not today. Not when there was apparently a huge threat looming over their heads. And especially not when Nthanda was seriously contemplating stepping down as Lord of the Ceelen. No matter what everyone else in the Ceelen believed, Jing had never wanted that job. He'd watched it kill their grandfather, then his uncle and his own father. It had already begun to kill Nthanda long before he took the reins of the Ceelen.

And that was part of why Jing had left. Why he stayed away most of the time. He was Ceelen to the core but he couldn't watch Nthanda get worn down like a knife sharpened until it was a hair-thin shadow of what it should be. More importantly, he couldn't allow that to happen to himself.

So apparently he'd decided that he would find another way to die for the Ceelen because if Iman was right about the assassins, and there was no cause to doubt it, then Jing had been tempting death to claim him ever since he flew away from the Graceful Swan on his quest for knowledge. Jing sighed and stood, gesturing for Nthanda to precede him.

"You can walk by my side," Nthanda grumbled.

"I know," Jing said. "And it reassures people somewhat more if I walk at your back. If I am trusted at your back. Ru is the one who should be by your side, Nthanda, not me."

He expected a glare. Instead he got a blush and a shy grin. Jing, lightly, pushed Nthanda out of the suite and smiled as Lee and Raven settled in behind them both. He gestured and then glared until Raven assigned two of his bodyguards to stay and watch over Iman. No reason to tempt fate. Leaving Iman alone with his computers was bad enough. Allowing him to wander through the Graceful Swan would be foolhardy.

The command center was a hive of activity, far worse than normal. Technicians had panels open, working under the feet of the crew to upgrade the system. Everything appeared to be working properly but Jing found that he could only access the highest levels of the system, not anything deeper.

"I'm locked out, you know," Jing murmured to Nthanda whose eyes were locked on Ru and a beautiful young woman who had to be Bala Wirnhier, the Crystal Consort.

To his surprise, Nthanda immediately blushed hotly and looked ashamed. It took Jing a moment to realized that Nthanda had suspected him of being behind the attack. Perhaps of being the one responsible for his children's apparent deaths. The pain of that struck Jing to the heart, driving the breath from his lungs and the confused joy from his mind.

He was suspect. Jing Althuis, heir apparent to the Ceelen Lines Lordship, was suspect of trying to destroy his cousin. After spending years trying to find who was behind their troubles, after risking death over and over. Rage battled with hurt only to have them both extinguished by the realization that Nthanda was only reflecting what everyone else had told him. And, very likely, what they had told him were things that had been whispered into their ears by Neelam's people, by the people behind Neelam and her Collective.

"I do not see Yaroslava," Jing murmured once he could trust his voice once more. "Is he locked out as well?"

"At the moment, yes," Nthanda admitted with a shamed little sigh. "It seemed… wiser."

"A lovely job they've done dividing us in our time of trial," Jing said, low and soft so that truly only Nthanda, Lee and Raven could hear it. "Rumors, suspicions, and then an attack and we fall upon each other with glee. Had I not spent so much time with Iman and his never-stopping tongue I think I would have reacted angrily. Now. Not so much."

Nthanda's shame slowly faded as Jing spoke. Behind them, Lee and Raven both shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other before putting on their stiff professional faces. After a moment Nthanda turned to stare towards Bala and Ru who were quietly but viciously arguing with each other about something. The techs were snapping at the crew who looked rather annoyed by the disruption to their affairs.

All quite understandable given the stress of an imminent attack and yet Jing wondered when their internal discipline had collapsed to the point that they were no long each other's best friends. When they were young, Jing and Nthanda had been the best of friends. Sometime around their teen years they had grown apart, their respective duties and the stresses of their parents pulling them away from each other. Raven had commented once, during a long flight to a different system, that she had never felt as though she was allowed to be friends with her brother Lee. She had admitted that she found it sad that Nthanda and Jing had not remained close friends.

"What line was our tutor from?" Jing asked, easily loud enough for people to overhear him but not so loud that it would seem deliberate. He frowned at Nthanda who blinked rapidly.

"Ah, I believe she was… a Garcia, actually," Nthanda said and there, yes, his voice was at just the right level, too. "I had forgotten that. I wonder if she was one of this Collective, too?"

"It seems likely," Jing said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "When she came on to teach us was when we began to drift apart. Whenever we had our private lessons she would emphasize how 'sad' she was that I was not the heir. I had to order her outright to stop telling me that I would have been a better ruler of the Ceelen than you."

"She did what?" Ru and Bala asked at once, both with horrified expressions.

"Father and Uncle both had aides that… argued extensively with each other," Jing said. He deliberately didn't meet anyone's eyes, instead staring at the view screen that showed absolutely nothing of note outside. "They were twins, both of Hispanic extraction. Just like Neelam. And our tutor."

Nthanda gritted his teeth, hands clenched into fists. Good. He was thinking instead of just reacting. That was what they all needed. Jing looked at Bala who was frowning at him so disapprovingly that he knew she had to be thinking of Iman, her rival for information acquisition.

"Did Iman give you that?" Bala asked.

"No, I noticed it on my own," Jing said. "Who told you that Iman was untrustworthy?"

"I didn't need anyone to tell me," Bala snarled. "He's a con-man!"

"Then why hasn't he been convicted any of the forty-seven times he's been arrested and charged?" Jing asked. "Every single time he's been released with no restrictions."

He kept his tone as mild as milk, not prepared to go to battle against Bala's fury. As little has he'd had to do with her, he'd still heard about her legendary ability to destroy people with well-timed bits of information and usage of her connections.

Bala opened her mouth, shut it again, shook her head. "That's not proof of anything. He probably had information on the judges or politicians. I certainly do."

"You live in luxury, oh Crystal Consort of Hexal City," Jing said and yes, there was a good bit of sharpness in those words. Justified though. "Iman has the clothes on his back and occasionally the money for his next meal. There appears to be a disconnect between his con-man status and his financial success."

"He gambles!" Bala said, throwing up her hands. "Of course he's losing it."

"Except…" Ru paused, glancing towards Jing with a troubled enough expression that Jing nearly cheered. "Bala, he cheats. If he wants to win at gambling, he does. Doesn't matter what he's playing, he wins. He could be richer than you if he was…"

"Truly a con-man," Jing finished for him. "Which, actually, only feeds into my point. I believe Iman. He says that the Collective will be coming to attack us. He says that the computer system is vulnerable to them. And yet when I look at the screen and the monitors there is no sign of anything approaching us."

He turned to Nthanda who looked truly alarmed. Lee and Raven both looked the same, hands on their weapons and identical snarls on their faces.

"Has anyone attempted to call our other ships?" Jing asked. "To ask them to confirm their position matches what's in our system? Or has anyone actually looked out any of the view ports on the leisure deck? Eyes can sometimes see more than expected."

The command center was frozen for five very long, very tense seconds. And then the techs who had been working on the computer systems erupted off the floor, charging Nthanda, Jing and Ru. So. He wasn't wrong. Reassuring.

Jing's shield took the first three blaster blows without a problem. By that point Ru was moving, knife and blaster in hand, while Bala pulled a vicious little needler from somewhere. Nthanda fired on one of the techs at the same time that Raven did. Behind them, Lee whirled and took down several techs charging from the rear.

Jing waited. He stayed still. Techs dropped, one by one, and then there was panting silence in the command center. All remaining eyes were on him as he went to the scanner control panel, kneeling to see what damage had been done inside.

Several years of treading close to the wrong side of the law had taught him the look of blockers. Two were obvious. One was not. Jing tossed all three to the side. He delved deeper and grunted when he found what he had feared, deep inside, would be there.

"Raven, do be so kind as to go wake Iman," Jing said as he carefully withdrew from the console. "We have a ticking time bomb and he has such facility with them. I would prefer that he come right away, tired or not. Perhaps Lee could help? He did have a rather terrible panic attack. I imagine he won't be very steady on his feet."

"Fuck!" Ru cursed. "They hell are they up to?"

6. Hidden Faults

"Wake up!"

Iman shouted and tried to shove the jailor away. His grip was too strong though and Iman couldn't break free. He whined and tried harder, trying to strike the jailor's throat only to strike…

…well armored breast.

He blinked, nightmare slowly flaking away like peeling paint over rotting concrete as he realized that it wasn't the jailor of his childhood. It was Raven, harried, angry, Raven. With her brother Lee behind her twitching as if he wanted to pull Iman straight out of the bed and then run across the ship.

"Is there a bomb or a spy?" Iman asked as he nodded to Raven and pushed the blankets back.

"How do you do that?" Raven snapped. "We didn't say anything."

"Well, Jing wouldn't wake me for anything less urgent," Iman said. "He knows how exhausted I get after panic attacks. So it has to be either a bomb, which I know a great deal about having designed them in the past, or a spy that he wants me and Bala to identify. Logic. Truly, you darling terrifying woman, what else could it be?"

His hands shook terribly as he pulled his pants back on. Lee had to help him with his boots and then hold his coat before Iman could get into it. At least Jing hadn't stripped Iman naked. That would have taken far too long to fix.

"Is he always like that?" Lee asked Raven.

"Yes," Raven sighed. She hauled Iman to his feet and then pushed him towards the door. "Always. No matter how many times I tell him to stop it."

"For heaven's sake," Iman huffed at them, "I don't understand what the problem is. I'm excessively polite. And, for you in particular, Raven, excessively honest. It's not a natural thing but you're far too terrifying for me to twist the truth at all."

Which made Raven scowl and Lee frown but then Iman was quite used to people failing to take him seriously. Sadly, there seemed to be little to do about it. Everyone presumed that he was guilty before he did a thing. After a certain amount of time one decided that it was just as easy to do as everyone expected rather than swim against the tidal wave of judgement.

The hallways were busy, far too busy. Goodness, could the Collective have already attacked? No, he hadn't slept that long. His knees were rather jelly-like and his eyes kept crossing. So he'd had less than an hour's sleep when he truly needed more than eight hours. Life did seem to take great joy in kicking him when he was down.

Maybe someday he'd get a few minutes, maybe even a day, when he was actually up and could avoid the metaphorical kicking.

Unlikely.

When they arrived at the command center, it was a battlefield after the shooting had stopped. Bodies littered the floor, almost all of them technicians which meant that yes, it was a bomb, not a spy. Ru and Bala jittered by one console. Nthanda had one hand on Ru's back but it didn't seem to calm Ru at all. No surprise. Ru wasn't the sort, from what Iman had seen of him, to be calmed by simple physical touch.

The odd thing, at least as far as Iman was concerned, was that none of the dead had Jing's mark on them. His blaster was a special design with a high-powered beam that cauterized a half an inch more flesh around the wounds than most blasters did. Iman was rather pleased with the design. He'd spent weeks on it before giving it to Jing. It also tended to fill the air with the stink of ozone and cooked flesh. At least Iman's overstressed stomach had been spared that stench.

"Sorry to wake you," Jing said. He stood in the center of the command deck, arms crossed over his chest, face as blank as it was possible for it to be. "We have a bomb and you're the best I know at handling them."

"Well, you'll have to be my fingers, dear heart," Iman said. He held out his hands which shook violently. "I am afraid I haven't recuperated yet."

"I can do that," Jing said. "It's over here."

Both Ru and Bala moved aside with enough reluctance that Iman sighed. Seriously, Bala knew his skills when it came to bombs. She'd had him defuse a number of then when she was establishing herself. And Ru, well, one would think that he would want Nthanda to get as far away from the bomb as possible.

Not that it was likely to make the slightest bit of difference. If the Collective had gotten one bomb onto the Graceful Swan then they more than likely had gotten dozens on. Depending on how long they'd had access to the ship, they might have rebuilt certain sections of the engines to be bombs with no outside explosives.

Jing sat on the floor and then helped Iman lie down next to him, their heads inside the console. He smelled like temptation, pure and simple, warm musky male scent mixed with the scorched smell of Iman's poor coat.

"Ah yes, a lovely little bomb," Iman said as he eyed this node of the bomb cluster. He sighed. "You do realize that the entire ship will need to be checked. This is a cluster bomb, star of my soul. It's linked to dozens, perhaps hundreds, of others spread throughout the ship. If one goes off all the others will as well."

"They sabotaged the ship," Jing sighed. "I thought that they had to have. They've had access for decades."

"In that case it was probably designed to blow up on command," Iman said. "Adding cluster bombs seems excessive. You must have truly annoyed them somehow. I expect it must have been one of those instances recently. This is a new design, only about four years old, so perhaps that time with the prostitutes."

"Don't mention that one," Jing groaned. "That was a disaster. So we have to find all the nodes or the ship is doomed?"

"Oh yes," Iman said. "They have to be defused correctly or they'll all go off. Someone earnestly desires your death, sun of my life, yours and all of the Ceelen's."

The cursing and choked gasps outside of the console were expected, if a little disappointing. Bala should have figured this out the instant she identified the bomb. Or Ru did. Whoever did. Bala was even more paranoid than Iman was. That was part of what had driven him out of their lives six years ago. Constant mistrust was far too wearing for Iman to stay, even though he had been quite fond of both of them.

Jing sighed, eyes troubled as he looked at Iman. The worry was, surprisingly, directed towards Iman more than towards the situation. How odd. Iman made a face and nodded towards the bomb node. It truly should be removed.

"Tell me what to do," Jing said.

It took ten minutes for Jing's skillful, confident fingers to remove the bomb from the console. Iman stopped him before he could pull it free entirely. He beamed and shifted a little, utterly delighted in a sick sort of way by the trap the Collective had placed underneath.

"Oh, those twisted little monsters," Iman cooed. "Yes, go ahead. Pass that out. There's a secondary bomb system underneath designed to notify the Collective when this one is defused. Sneaky, sneaky! And so nicely integrated into the computer system, too."

Any attempts to shut it down would send signals through the computer system to set off the others and to send messages to the Collective of what had happened. Iman shifted so that he could see how it was connected and then chortled that it was a simple contact-link, siphoning electricity off the computer system instead of being wired into it.

"Can you stop it?" Jing asked with much more alarm.

"Yes, indeed," Iman said. "It's a simple fix."

He gripped the little blue box, barely as big as his thumb, and jerked it free of its mounting. Jing shouted, sitting up so abruptly that he smacked his head into the casing for the console. Outside, people shouted as well, someone wailing, which, really now. Excessive. As Jing groaned and rubbed his head, Iman shimmied out of the console and sat up with the lovely little thing in his hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Iman said to Bala who groaned. "So much effort to ensure the system couldn't be stopped and they made their failsafe as simple to pull as a fuse."

"No," Bala breathed.

She snatched it out of his hand, stared at the back of it, and then started snickering. Jing slipped out of the console as well, lump forming on his head, and stared as Bala showed the box to Ru who showed it to Nthanda who showed it to Lee and Raven, both of whom cursed quite floridly about it. Iman leaned against Jing's side. One down, as many as ten thousand to go.

"How many?" Jing asked.

"No less than a hundred," Iman said, "and no more than ten thousand. It has to do with the way a cluster bomb is designed and actuated. Any less than a hundred and it won't go off. More than ten thousand and they're unstable."

Jing slid an arm around Iman's back. It felt…

Safe. Comforting. Like a trap. So much of his life comfort had been a trap and safety was an illusion that led to Iman dropping his guard. Nothing good ever came from that. Despite that, Iman leaned into Jing's embrace. As tired as he was, the comfort was a balm to his soul. And frankly there was nothing Iman could do at the moment.

He was trapped on the Graceful Swan with no way off other than staying in Jing's good graces. No ship, no way to buy passage and no way to earn money with which to buy passage had it been available. Pity that he hadn't gotten to close that deal. Things would be so different. Iman would have the leverage he so needed to ensure his own safety instead of being completely dependent on Jing's assistance.

The cursing died down as Iman lay curled against Jing's side. He looked and then sighed at the glares leveled at them. At him in particular.

"You could be doing something," Bala said so scathingly that Iman, by pure perverse instinct, rubbed his face against Jing's shoulder. "This is serious!"

"Quite so," Iman agreed. He shut his eyes. "And I am exhausted to the point that my hands are unstable and I cannot stand, Bala. Were I to attempt anything I would kill us all. You, on the other hand, are awake, energetic and standing there instead of running a simple electrical bleed off analysis of the Graceful Swan's system. Given that they gave the blue boxes a bleed off power system…"

"That would show where the bombs are!" Bala gasped.

"More than likely," Iman agreed. He smiled as she darted to the computer system, her own personal system flaring into life around her. "I wouldn't guarantee that it was all of them but it should show the majority. And someone truly does need to check the design of the engines. If the Collective has been targeting the Ceelen for years--"

"Decades," Jing said. "Nthanda and I can almost conclusively confirm that."

"Then they will have influenced the construction of the ship's engines," Iman finished with a tired little sigh. "So that's a danger as well. And there's very likely contamination of the food and water supply to worry about, potential dangers in the air control systems. Virtually any system of the ship, of all the Ceelen ships, could be affected."

He shut his eyes as silence fell over the command center. As tired as he was there was little he could do physically to deal with the threats. And if they chose not to follow up on his advice, well, that was nothing that he could be blamed for. Except that he knew he would be. He always was. So aggravating and yet Iman had never figured out what he could do to stop people from doing that.

Jing's arm tightened around Iman's back, taking on a protective feel as well as a comforting one. How odd that their little ruse of an engagement had made such a dramatic change in Jing's behavior. His distance, disbelief and outright distrust seemed to have melted away.

It wouldn't last. Iman knew that. And yet his heart clung to it in the desperate hope that he would finally have someone who trusted him, who believed him, who backed him up against the travails of life.

He'd been alone for so very long.

7. Warnings Heeded

Iman fell asleep against Jing's shoulder. The trust in that was stunning. He'd never seen Iman relax that much before, especially in a public place like the command center. Granted, everyone was focused on Nthanda and Ru as they snapped orders and set to work finding and eliminating the threats to the Ceelen. Still, it was a public place and Iman never lowered his guard that much in public.

"We can put him back in bed," Raven offered, eyes dark with conflict, mouth twisted to the side.

"Hmm, come with me, yes," Jing said after a moment's consideration of Iman, the situation and his own profound reluctance to leave Iman alone.

He barely managed to heft Iman in his arms but the man was a dead weight, too exhausted to wake without extreme motivation. And, apparently, being slung over Jing's shoulder like an old rug wasn't sufficient to do the task.

"Back to bed?" Nthanda asked, lips twitching with amusement at them or perhaps at Jing's rather possessive arm firmly gripping Iman's hips.

"He's no good to anyone like this." Jing nodded towards the door. "We need him awake and capable of dealing with everything. There really is no one else with his breadth of knowledge about our opponents and their weaponry."

"Because he designed them," Raven grumbled. "And then sold them to our enemies."

"Our weapons came from him, too," Jing reminded Raven. "My blaster in particular. Yours. The big guns on the gunnery ships. He's a weapon designer, or he was until it became too deadly for him."

That, surprisingly, made Nthanda rear his head back. He murmured something to Ru which made Ru snort and nod, then he followed Jing to the elevator and down to Jing's suite. Raven and Lee waited out in the living room. Nthanda came in and, once again, helped Jing put Iman to bed.

Once back out in the living room, Nthanda stared at the bedroom door with a troubled frown.

"He had been designing weapon systems for whoever would pay," Jing explained even though Nthanda had not asked. "But a consortium three customers… took exception to that. Iman was kidnapped, held captive and briefly tortured before we found him and got him out. He has refused to design weapons ever since and made it clear that he would commit suicide rather than design weapons ever again."

"I had not heard that before," Nthanda said with enough reluctance that Jing found himself staring, especially as Nthanda sighed and Lee looked away. "Or, more accurately, we did not believe that torture was involved. We were led to believe that it was simply a matter of Iman deciding that he deserved more money."

"Well, that was true enough," Jing said. "Iman has never had more money than was necessary for day to day survival. Frequently, not even that."

Jing blinked as Nthanda whirled to glare at him as if Jing was a liar and traitor. Odd. Even when they were the worst at odds Nthanda had never truly seen him as an enemy. Both Raven and Lee had their blank faces on, Lee with his shoulders square and legs at parade rest. Raven's lips were pressed tight together.

"What?" Jing asked her.

"I… may have been reporting on Iman's behavior," Raven said.

"I'm sure that your reports were completely impartial," Jing said. He didn't bother to keep the acid from his voice. "You are, after all, the best of friends with Iman."

That won a hard flinch from Raven and a confused frown from Nthanda so hopefully they were Nthanda was thinking properly again. Who knew how long he'd been fed inaccurate information and prompted to misinterpret the little accurate information he received? Not that Jing was completely certain that Raven's information was inaccurate either. Iman did not share information easily or happily. What little Jing had learned and confirmed was a bare fraction of Iman's life.

"If her information was not accurate then what do I need to know?" Nthanda asked. Arms crossed over his chest but not with that skeptical sneer that said he would not listen no matter what Jing said.

"Iman is one of the most intelligent people alive," Jing said immediately, "and he has… an amazing talent for getting himself into trouble that threatens his life and eats his money. I have never seen him to have money for more than a day or two at a time. I don't know where the money goes but he is not a gambler. He wins too readily for them to allow him to play."

"He cheats," Raven grumbled.

"Not truly," Jing disagreed. He snorted at the way Raven rolled her eyes. "He's so intelligent that he can predict the cards and he's incredibly talented at reading people. All the Gods know that he has played you like an instrument a thousand times and then apologized for it afterwards. He does the same when he gambles. That is still not cheating. It is intelligence and skill."

Nthanda sighed as he sat on one of the couches only to stand and pace on the other side of the room. Both Raven and Lee stared at him while Jing wondered just how deep the distrust between the two of them went after all these years of manipulation, miscommunication and distrust.

After a couple of minutes, Nthanda stopped and stared into Jing's eyes. It was so much like the Nthanda that Jing had known when they were boys together that Jing's breath caught in his chest. Nthanda looked towards the bedroom, then back at Raven who slowly went red, and then turned to Jing who waited for whatever Nthanda wanted to know. At this point, Jing would be more than happy to explain whatever he could if it meant that they moved past this place that they'd ended up.

"You trust him?" Nthanda asked.

"With my life," Jing replied. "I've done so many times, actually. Several times today alone. The only person that I trust more at my back is Raven and I know for a fact, and have always known, that she does not truly work for me."

Jing had known that when he hired every single one of his bodyguards. They did not work for him, personally. They worked for the Ceelen, guarding the presumed heir to the Ceelen Line until such a time as Nthanda managed to have children. Which, since he now had six viable heirs growing in baby chambers, might mean that Jing needed to think of hiring new body guards.

He pointed one slowly rotating finger at Raven who stiffened and then frowned when Jing only opened his mouth. When he pointed towards Nthanda and then towards himself, still cycling that finger, Raven snorted a laugh.

"I still serve you," Raven said, amused and surprisingly fond. "You're the presumed heir. We can renegotiate once Nthanda announces a change in the chain of descent."

"What?" Nthanda asked so sharply that Jing raised an eyebrow at him. Surprisingly, Lee looked equally confused and alarmed.

"My contract specifies that I serve the presumed heir of the Ceelen, currently identified as Jing Althuis," Raven explained, stiff and formal with her most erect posture straightening her spine and raising her chin. "If someone else is named the heir then my contract specifies that I, and my entire crew, will switch to guarding them."

"I actually would recommend them highly," Jing said even though Nthanda's jaw had dropped open. "They're all incredibly talented, very skilled in multiple disciplines and absolutely dedicated to the Ceelen. I can always hire my own bodyguards as I do actually keep bodyguards around me at all times unlike certain other people we all know."

Nthanda collapsed onto the couch, face in his hands as he groaned and then cursed under his breath in six different languages. Surprisingly he seemed more upset with himself than with Jing or Raven. Odd. He wouldn't have expected that. Jing had intended the teasing to lighten the mood rather than intensifying it.

It took Lee rubbing the back of his neck for Jing to realize that this was yet another layer of mistrust and misdirection that had been sown in their midst. Lee's look was pure apology as he gazed at Raven who stiffened and then turned to look at Jing as if she needed confirmation of what she was seeing.

"Who told you that I'd stolen them?" Jing sighed as he sat opposite Nthanda.

"Yaroslava, Imani, Neelam which was obviously plotting on her part," Nthanda said so readily that Jing snorted. "Most of my staff. Most of our more distant relatives. Visitors and clients. More or less everyone."

"And you… never bothered to check their contract," Jing said.

He groaned when Nthanda nodded sheepishly. They had been played for absolute fools for years. A decade and a half. Longer, perhaps, if one included their fathers and the rest of the Ceelen. Jing stared at the ceiling, counting rivets in the cream tiles as a thought percolated in the back of his mind.

Delicate things, percolating thoughts. The least little thing might kill them and then you were left to laboriously rebuild them like Jing apparently had to rebuild his relationship with Nthanda, his little brother in all but name. Once they had been so very close, never parted and always plotting their next adventure together.

But the Collective and politics had forced them apart until now they were strangers sitting in the same room but not understanding each other any better than baseline humans from Old Earth understood their far-flung colonial descendants.

Jing froze.

Earth.

"We need… to track," Jing said, still staring at the ceiling tile rivets.

"All right," Nthanda said in that slow drawl of his that meant he knew that Jing's mind was slowly lifting a percolating idea out of the thick stew that was his unconscious mind. "What are we tracking?"

"How long it's been since Old Earth returned to the space lanes," Jing said as he sat up and stared towards the bedroom door and Iman, "versus how long we have been set against one another. Not just us, individually, but the Hyun-Ju against the Ceelen. All of the space faring families. We control, you see. We control the space lanes and Old Earth is…"

"…all about control," Nthanda breathed. His eyes went wide. "They would keep their own people from fleeing, force them to pay prohibitive rates for everything including leaving, if only the Drathanni would allow it."

"And the Drathanni have made it clear that they would not allow it because other groups of humans," Jing said with a dramatic gesture worthy of Iman at his most sarcastic, "have freedom of movement and commerce at a much lower rate. They judge human systems against human systems. If all of the space lines charged a high rate and kept tight control, then Old Earth could justify their actions sufficiently to lock down on their people and keep them from leaving."

Nthanda bolted to his feet, chest heaving as he all but vibrated with outrage. He gestured towards the door and Jing smiled, waving for him to go. That was all Nthanda needed in terms of encouragement because he and Lee were out the door moments later, Nthanda already snapping orders to Lee and probably sending them through the system that Lee still couldn't access properly.

Raven stayed.

Jing raised an eyebrow at her.

"I still do not trust Iman," Raven said.

"I am aware," Jing replied. "I do trust him. Far more so than I realized until today."

Raven shook her head. "Sir, you don't understand what he is. Yes, he is a con-man. Yes, he is terrifyingly intelligent. But that isn't want matters."

She glared at Jing as if willing him to understand. But he didn't. Jing wasn't sure that he could understand whatever it was. Raven pursed her lips and snorted at him, hands in fists and up on her toes as if she was getting ready to attack someone. Anyone. Except, perhaps, Jing.

"He's poor," Raven said, pronouncing the words as if they carried all the weight in the universe. "Money flows through his hands, I know not where, but it marks him, that flow. He is desperate for security, for safety, and money is his only path to it. If someone offers him more money, he will take it and then be so terribly sad about betraying you. You cannot trust him!"

Jing shook his head even though something deep inside of him understood what she said. Accepted it. Believed it. He had seen, so many times, the difference between his sheltered and privileged childhood and that of those around him. Not the Ceelen servants and guards. Other people. Ground-pounders who would never leave the grinding hells they had been born into.

Desperation shaped your mind, your soul.

Jing knew it.

"I hear you," Jing said as softly and gently as he could. "I understand what you say. But I do trust him. If he betrays me again I will still trust him when he comes back. I cannot be other than what I am, Raven, just as you cannot. There is more to security than money. I believe… that I can give him that. More importantly, I believe that he may be the Ceelen's only hope of survival. Not just our survival, all of the space lines depend on Iman. Nthanda is listening now. Learning. But there is so much that we do not know. That we cannot find out on our own."

Raven snarled and turned her head away in a move that was part fury, part flinch at the gentleness of his tone. "He can."

"Yes," Jing agreed. "Iman can. So we must trust him."

"I hope that you are right, sir," Raven said. She glared at the door. "Because if he does betray you again I will kill him no matter what you say."

8. Hidden History

Someone pressed against Iman's side.

He jerked, striking towards whoever it was, attempting to kill them before they could harm him. There was a grunt. Hands caught his wrists as Iman drew in a breath to scream.

"This is my bed."

The calm words snapped through Iman's instinctive fear better than anything, even a hard slap, would have. Iman blinked, nightmares and memories clearing away so that he could see Jing sitting on the side of the bed in nothing more than creamy pale sleep pants. He swallowed as he deliberately relaxed his arms even though he truly would have preferred to press closer. Or run away. Both were quite appealing options.

"Awake now?" Jing asked. He released Iman's wrists but was clearly on guard for another attack.

"Yes," Iman said. "My apologies, you stunningly beautiful man. I'm afraid I was caught in dreams and nightmares for a moment there."

"Understandable," Jing said. He grinned, white teeth flashing against his luscious dark skin. "You've been asleep for almost eight hours. Better?"

Iman stared at him. Eight hours. He'd slept for eight hours? Without waking? Without the nightmares sending him out of bed to pace and invent and ask endless questions of the people around him so that he wouldn't think about all the issues he had hidden away from as best he could?

"Truly, eight hours," Jing said. His grin was even wider now. "I, on the other hand, have stayed awake and helped Nthanda deal with the looming threat of the Collective. We have moved the individuals we have to as secure of a cell as we can manage. The cluster bomb has been reduced, hopefully, to less than the number needed for detonation. Bala said that she was going to sleep while the Hyun-Ju aid Nthanda and Ru in tracing the systems for any nodes that escaped detection. I doubt she's actually gone yet, though. They drew here back into another long-winded discussion as I left. Oh, and you were quite right about the engines of the Graceful Swan. They are designed to explode on command but we believe we've found the trigger codes and signals so that shouldn't be an issue. Probably."

"They listened to me?" Iman whispered, stunned. "No one ever listens to me, Jing. No one at all."

"I do," Jing said. "I always have. Though I am rather… stolid. I don't say anything… effective, I suppose."

Iman huffed, taking one of Jing's hands and clinging to it. "You are far from 'stolid'! Strong and intelligent, gentle beyond all understanding and so very handsome. I do not believe that you understand just how distracting you are with that face and those eyes and your body should never be unclothed this way. It's far too distracting."

Jing leaned closer, his grin shifting toward impish. "It's my bed."

It took a second for Iman to start laughing but once he did the laughter was a thing alive, eating away at Iman's ability to stop, to speak, to do anything other than to submit to the endless giggles and chortles that shook him until tears welled up in his eyes. He allowed Jing to pull him close, to lay them both down in the bed where it was warm and safe.

Safe.

Never in his entire life had lying in a bed with another person been a safe action but Iman found himself relaxing into Jing's embrace despite the giggles and the tears and the old, old terror that wailed inside of him. Jing's hand rubbed over Iman's back, strong and comforting against those terrors. Truly, the man was so horribly dangerous to Iman's survival. When the betrayal came, and it would, Iman was going to be broken into a million tiny pieces.

"You can sleep more," Jing murmured once the giggles finally died down.

"Would that I could, beloved man," Iman replied with a tired sigh and absolutely no effort to get up to get out of bed. "But I rarely sleep eight hours in a stretch. I doubt I could fall asleep again and, well, it is your bed. You should have the right to sleep in it undisturbed by my muttering, reading or fidgeting. Which I most assuredly will do if I remain."

Jing snorted a little laugh but he pressed a kiss to Iman's forehead. Horribly temping person. He truly should get up but it felt so good to lie there with Jing's arms around him. It had been so terribly long since he'd had anyone hold him, much less someone with no overt malice or ulterior motives.

As Jing's fingers drifted lazily over Iman's spine, Iman allowed his eyes to drift shut. Warm. Comfortable. Safe.

How odd to feel safe here. He'd been at odds with Jing for so very long despite his best intentions. Frankly, he would have climbed into Jing's lap the very first minute he met the man if it hadn't been for the firefight around them and the gun Jing leveled on him. Such a terribly cheap and ineffective gun it had been, too. Finding out later that Jing simply hadn't wanted to spend the money for a better one had all but knocked Iman from his feet.

"That was the worst gun ever," Iman mumbled against Jing's neck.

"Are you still on about that?" Jing asked. His shoulders shook with silent laughter. "That was years ago."

"You wouldn't buy a better gun because it was 'too expensive'," Iman huffed. He leaned up on his elbow to frown forbiddingly at Jing, not that the frown worked. Jing just grinned at him.

"Well, it was too expensive," Jing said.

"You're heir to the Ceelen." Iman shook his head. "One would think that you had access to all the funds you want."

"One would be quite wrong about that," Jing said so grimly that the quiet comfortable thing growing under Iman's breastbone skittered away, terrified. "I've never had free access to our funds. There's always been a very tight budget. Right now I don't even have full access to our computer systems. Should have asked Nthanda about that."

Iman stared at him. After a few seconds Jing raised an eyebrow. After a few more, he sighed and shrugged with such a resigned expression that the snarling angry thing inside him that had kept Iman alive through his childhood in prison and through every battle that had followed reared up and howled its fury at the world.

Jing. Jing was hobbled, trapped by the plots of the Collective and their employers. Kept from his proper place and his proper power. No. That was not appropriate. Iman tolerated a great many indignities in his personal life but he would not allow Jing to go through the same stupidity.

It took scrambling over the top of Jing's entirely too tempting body to get out of bed, which was harder than it should have been, but Iman did it. He found his pants, his boots, and dressed, all the while muttering about the stupidity of the people around him.

"Did you have access before you left?" Iman asked Jing who had rolled so that he could lean on an elbow while watching Iman.

"Yes," Jing said. "I believe that it was Bala who cut off my access. I'm actually not sure who beyond Nthanda has full access to the system currently."

Iman huffed. "I will be speaking with her. Most sternly."

"Iman," Jing said and the tone was sharp enough that Iman's outrage stilled into wariness and fear that he would be denied the right to do this for Jing. "Nthanda and I believe that Old Earth is behind the attacks against the space faring lines. We have no proof but it fits. Once you're done yelling at people I'd appreciate it if you'd talk to Raven and Nthanda about it. Between you and Bala we can probably put together most of what's happened."

Iman nodded, heart in his throat. The lump was large enough that words weren't truly possible. Not that Iman had the slightest idea what words he should say. Other than that Jing and Nthanda were quite right. Utterly right. Terrifyingly right.

So instead he nodded a second time before slipping out of the bedroom and leaning against the very sturdy and practical sofa in the common room. A very nice sofa, the upholstery fabric soft and comfortable under his fingertips while the bones of it hidden under padding felt as solid as Jing himself. Except that he wasn't solid. Not at all. He felt rather like that horrid gel they brewed out of organic garbage to make food rations for the poor.

Shaking again. Iman sighed and shut his eyes so that he could focus solely on breathing. In and out, slow and steady when he wanted to scream and run away from even that brief hint of his childhood hell. No one knew. Iman hadn't allowed anyone to. He'd learned entirely new speech patterns, changed how he looked, how he dressed, how he ate and walked and gestured. Not to mention all the changes he'd made physically with the help of nanites and predatory surgeons along the margins of society.

Perhaps someday it would be enough that he didn't fear being returned to Old Earth.

Today was not that day.

It took six minutes, thirty-seven seconds before Iman managed to still his shivers. He needed to be confident, in control and at least somewhat clear-headed. Not that he was certain he would be able to maintain even the slightest level of calm once he entered the hospital which hopefully he wouldn't have to do at all. Terrible places. Horrible people, those doctors, always poking and scanning a person and asking probing questions.

"And that is quite enough of that line of thought," Iman said to the empty room. "Time to work, not ruminate. Or gibber in a corner."

He opened the door to the hallway, always stunned when he had the access to do so on a ship that was not under the control of someone he trusted, and then smiled brilliantly to find Raven standing by the door with her eyes shut.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Raven asked.

"I would have thought that you would be asleep, oh terrifying one," Iman replied. He grinned even more brightly when her eyes flew open so that she could glower at him. "Jing is, I believe, going to sleep for a time. One never knows just how long he'll actually slumber but he is making the attempt. I was, somewhat forcefully, requested to go speak to Bala about computer access."

"You are not getting access to our systems," Raven snapped.

"Oh no, that would be quite unlikely," Iman agreed as he stepped out of the common room and into the hallway. No alarms sounded so apparently he did have the ability to wander around about with only Raven as his escort. "Not to mention completely foolish. No, you see, Jing has limited access and he wanted me to go talk to Bala about that. It's new, since she began working on the system, so perhaps she just wasn't aware that his command access levels had been dropped inappropriately. Perhaps. Though I doubt it. Bala rarely changes things like that without cause and well, I do wonder if Nthanda ordered it or if someone else did it to cause problems. You know our dear Jing. He probably didn't wish to cause a fuss by bringing it up."

Raven cursed, quite beautifully in three languages. She had quite the talent for stringing invective together, especially when mixing phrases from multiple languages. He wouldn't have thought to call Bala an electron sucking black hole of a street walker but the phrases worked quite well when mixed in those particular languages. It even flowed gracefully off her lips and sounded quite delightfully hostile to the ear.

"What?" Raven snapped as one of her crew, the lovely young Motya Paquet, arrived at a run with her shirt open, pants unzipped and weapons at the ready.

"You have such a talent for invective," Iman said with as open of admiration as he dared with Raven's temper obviously at the fraying edge. "I quite admire it. That was lovely. You really must teach me how to do that someday. Or not. As you wish."

Both Raven and Motya leveled their blasters at Iman. He held his hands up, doing his best not to grin or tremble, either. They were his designs, clearly, and thus more than capable of blowing him into his component pieces. Not a fate Iman would wish on anyone, especially himself.

"The hard part is that I'm never sure if he's actually being complementary," Motya grumbled to Raven as she zipped her pants, closed her shirt and then nodded towards Iman, all done one-handed.

"He isn't," Raven grunted.

"Actually, that was intended to be a complement," Iman said and made sure that his hands were still in the air. "Quite the graceful insult and the languages rolled off your tongue so beautifully. Swearing is something of a talent, I believe, and you're very good at it. Jing is, well. Not gifted that way."

Motya turned away, lips pressed together as she tried not to laugh out loud. Raven shut her eyes, her normal fury transformed into instant amusement. My word. Such a change. She looked beautiful and young and quite amazing when she wasn't scowling. The moment of divine gorgeousness disappeared the instant she opened her eyes.

"I'm on duty here," Raven told Motya. "Take this one," with a jerk of her chin at Iman, "to the command center. Something's wrong with Jing's computer access."

"Mine was lowered, too," Motya said.

"I noticed it as well," Raven said and now her scowl was so ferocious that there was no way that Iman would put his arms down without permission. "Find out what happened and get it fixed. You, get out of here and do something good for once."

"I do attempt to do so frequently," Iman said. "If you will be so kind as to lead, my dear Motya?"

He didn't put his arms down until Raven nodded the okay to Motya. Even then he was nervous until they were in the lift and almost to the command center level. Which was fine. Motya had never had the same level of hostility towards Iman that Raven did. Most of the rest of Raven's crew of bodyguards didn't. Which was a relief, truly. It was quite wearing to be on one's guard all the time and Raven always somehow ratcheted up Iman's fear by several degrees of magnitude.

"You know the reason she doesn't like you is that you talk like a text book, don't you?" Motya said just before the command center doors opened.

"No, I hadn't realized that," Iman said with a little sigh. "Frankly, all she ever does is threaten to kill me so I had no information to go on. I suppose I could attempt to work on that but she'd just find that suspicious, too."

Motya grinned and nodded.

The command center was much better than the last visit Iman had had. The dead bodies were gone. All of the consoles were closed up and working correctly. It was a different crew working, appropriate give that Iman had slept for so long.

But Bala was there, looking as tired as Iman had ever seen her, along with Ru and Nthanda and, shockingly, a very calm and content looking Su Carran, defacto leader of the Hyun-Ju. He gazed at Ru and Nthanda leaning against one another as if it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Which stopped when Bala spotted Iman and scowled.

"What are you doing here?" Bala snapped.

"Carrying a question to you and Nthanda, dear woman," Iman said. He bowed properly, no florid gestures at all, to Su Carran. "An honor to see you once more, sir."

"What question?" Nthanda asked before Bala could snarl anything or Su Carran could ask questions of why Iman was there. The suspicion was in his eyes, as always happened, but he didn't appear defensive. Or ready to kill Iman so that was good.

"Jing finds that his access to the computer system is substantially less than it had been," Iman said. "Raven and Motya here report the same. Jing wondered whether that was a deliberate choice on your part, action taken by Bala in her set up of the much improved systems or, more likely, action by those who wish to make things go poorly here."

It took twenty-seven seconds before Bala began cursing. Nthanda and Ru did likewise while Su Carran sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. Iman sighed and shrugged to Motya who shrugged back. Yet another problem to be dealt with. Hopefully it would be a relatively quick fix.

Not that Iman actually believed that. The Collective simply weren't that sloppy.

9. One Step Forward

The hallways of the Graceful Swan echoed with people shouting when Jing left his suite four hours later, Raven lurking at his heels. He raised an eyebrow, stood still as various staff members ran past with only the barest sketched salutes for him. From the echoes he could hear, most of which wouldn't carry very far due to the way the hallways and walls were constructed, the Collective had completely destroyed the command control center somehow.

Which meant that command had been transferred to the secondary comm down on the engineering level. Jing went that way, stopping to let people run past him with welding torches, saws, hammers and, once, a very large bucket full of fire suppression foam. It was enough to make Jing a bit twitchy but when he got there he found Iman in the center of the chaos shouting orders and doing that amazing thing he did where completely ridiculous phrases and orders somehow turned into a coherent plan that saved everyone's lives.

"You cow-tongued Johnny-raw zounderkite!" Iman snapped at one of the engineering managers who'd been working for the Ceelen for over forty years. "Did I not specifically say to put the unit into the foam? Not set it on top, down into it, the very center. Do you want to kill us all?"

"That doesn't make any sense!" the manager shouted back at him.

"He called you a lying novice whose stupid conduct results in ridiculous mistakes," Jing called from the doorway even though ice had formed in his belly when Iman cursed that way--Iman didn't look as though he'd been stabbed. In fact, Iman beamed at him as though Jing was the most wonderful person in the world for explaining it. "Though I don't know why it needs fire suppression foam?"

"Because we're about to overload it horrifically as we wrest control of the computer system from the Collective," Iman said so reasonably that Jing waved for them to do what Iman wanted.

Jing stayed where he was, watching for that moment when everything started to spark and short out. It normally happened when Iman did things like this. The bucket of foam went first, fizzling and popping as the connector unit inside it began to sizzle. Then sparks shot from a dozen different consoles, followed by a loud crack from the center console that Iman bent over.

Grabbing Iman by the seat of the pants and wrenching him back kept Iman from getting burned badly. It also got Jing an elbow in the stomach, a stomped foot and Iman cursing at him in his ridiculously bizarre terminology.

"Nyargle!" Iman snapped at him. "Quit being a munz-watcher and help me get this fixed."

"What's a nyargle?" Jing asked as he helped hold sparking wires away from the console so that Iman could work lightning-fast fingers over the console.

Alarms went off. The fire suppression system came down out of the ceiling, stuttered, and then retreated back up into its wells as the sparking abruptly stopped. Silence descended. The scorching hot wires in Jing's hands cooled. He set them down and then sighed with relief as Iman nodded.

"Done," Iman said. "Well, that was rather simple, all things considered. We didn't even have an explosion. And a nyargle, you darling gammerstang, is a foolish man fond of disrupting the work of the people around him."

"I need to download an esoteric dictionary," Jing sighed as the staff around them started snickering. "Gammerstang was someone tall and awkward, wasn't it?"

"Oh yes." Iman didn't meet his eyes for a bit. He was too focused on the console and whatever programming issues he was fixing. "Which you most certainly are."

Bala ran in, a pad in her hand and Athaliah on her heels. Behind her was Lee who looked as though he'd taken a small grenade to the face. He was covered with scorches, cuts and a nasty looking burn along his chin.

"It worked?" Bala said, staring at her pad and then at Iman. "You fixed it?"

"Oh, certainly, yes," Iman replied. He sighed and stretched, smiling ruefully at Jing as if that was something to apologize for. "The computer access issue was rather more of a problem than we suspected. There was a secondary system installed into the Graceful Swan that was feeding it false data while sending all of the Ceelen information to someone else."

"We have yet to discover where the information is going," Lee said, stiff and formal but not at all reluctant to report to Jing. That was an improvement. "Nthanda and Ru have gone to sleep."

"Mostly because I threatened to drug them," Bala grumbled.

"Then you need to sleep as well," Jing told Bala. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "I got four hours of sleep and a shower, Bala. Have you slept or eaten in that time?"

She shut her eyes, shoulders slumping. "No."

"Go. Sleep. Eat. Shower." He stared at her patient and flat-faced until she nodded. "Athaliah can fill your shoes quite well, especially with Iman here. Don't be… what would you say?"

He turned to Iman who started laughing.

"A zounderkite!" Iman declared, grinning at Jing. "Don't be a zounderkite and trip us all up with your mistakes."

"Whatever," Bala grumbled.

She murmured something to Athaliah who nodded and then patted Bala's shoulder as she passed. Good. They certainly couldn't afford to have everyone exhausted if they were going to succeed. He looked at Raven who raised her chin and glared at him.

"Did you sleep?" Jing asked her.

"Of course."

"Lying down in a bed?" Jing asked, this time with a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic tone because he'd learned early on that Raven considered dozing at attention to be sufficient sleep.

"…No."

"Go to bed," Jing ordered. "One of the others can take over for you. I told you to get proper sleep, Raven."

She went but it was with grumbles, a silent order through the system that Jing could properly hear now for four of his bodyguards to come take over, and a glare at Iman that could have stripped bonded paint from the hull of the Graceful Swan. Not what he would have wanted with her but at least he could access the systems properly now.

And there was so very much that needed attention.

Sensors were offline, the main weapons were hobbled by programs that reduced their efficiency and power by more than fifty percent. The engines were fluttering towards instability, purely because of random adjustments to the power and vector controls that weren't ordered by anyone on board. More worryingly, the artificial gravity and environmental control systems were completely compromised.

"All of these areas need work," Jing said, bringing those problem areas into focus for Iman and the rest of the staff. "We have less than two hours before the Collective or their employers may attack us."

"Always providing they don't have agents and ships on Melin," Iman interrupted. He shrugged at Jing's raised eyebrow. "They probably do."

"Point taken," Jing said. "I would like to have the engines, gravity and environmental controls fixed before Nthanda and Ru are wakened by the inevitable attack. We need something cobbled together on sensors immediately or we will be helpless against the attack. Move, people."

The staff stared at him for three very long seconds and then erupted into frantic speech that quickly translated into action. Jing watched, listened, and only offered suggestions when people became too frantic or mono-focused to be effective. In twenty minutes there were teams working on all of the projects and Jing was able to pull Iman out of the Engineering command center. He came willingly enough, if with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Are you all right?" Jing asked very quietly once they were in the hallway.

"Me?" Iman asked, staring at Jing. "Yes, of course, you darling man. Why?"

Jing looked back at the door to the command center, then studied Iman's face. Not too pale, no shaking. No sweat, either. He seemed to be fine. And yet his behavior wasn't the norm that Jing had gotten used to over the last few years. The Iman he knew would never have used those sorts of curses. And Iman's accent while saying them had been different as well. Less studied, thicker, somehow more real than his very cultured accent normally.

"You…" Jing paused as several crew members ran by, putting one hand on Iman's cheek. His four bodyguards turned their heads, stepping back to allow them the illusion of privacy. "You spoke differently, Iman. Rather like the time when you nearly bled to death."

Now Iman went pale. He swallowed, clutching Jing's wrist. His fingers shook badly, so badly that Jing could have pulled free with almost no effort.

"Hey," Jing whispered, putting his other hand on Iman's cheek. "It's all right. I'm just worried about you. You never curse like that unless something is very wrong."

"I'm, I'm not hurt," Iman whispered back, eyes shut as sweat beaded on his forehead, under his eyes. "I should leave. I should. This is, is dangerous. You, this place, these people. It’s not safe. I know that. But they trusted me and listened and did what I said and then I just, just…"

Jing let out a slow breath, heart lurching. "Relaxed your guard."

Iman nodded. The shaking was terrible now so Jing pulled Iman into his arms and held him tightly. Exotic curses and an accent that one really only heard from one place: Old Earth refugees. And wasn't that a horrifying concept? Everything that Jing had heard about Old Earth was the stuff of nightmares. Not that Iman looked anything at all like the refugees he'd seen. No pale skin, no barcode tattoos, and no signs of torture.

Except for his behavior. His determination to run away from everything that might threaten his survival. The way he always had to be armed and have multiple ways to flee from any situation. Not to mention Iman's broad familiarity with everything on the wrong side of the law.

He would have needed that to escape Old Earth. And to change his appearance. Wouldn't that make sense of his perpetual lack of money? It was all going to doctors who altered him until he couldn't be identified and forced to bow to Old Earth's demands.

"Don't ask," Iman hissed at him. "Please don't ask."

"I was going to ask if there was anything I could do to make sure that you were fully secure," Jing murmured into Iman's multicolored hair. "Our doctors are… much better."

"Only if you can make nanite-crafted changes permanent," Iman said with a little snort. "At the genetic level."

"Let's find out," Jing replied.

Iman jerked back to stare at him, mouth open and eyes wide. So shocked. It was adorable. Jing grinned at him before pressing a quick and completely inappropriate kiss against Iman's lips. Which made Iman turn blazingly red before he smacked Jing in the middle of the chest.

"I don't believe I consented to that," Iman snapped even though he clung to Jing's shirt so that Jing couldn't do more than step back half a foot.

"My apologies," Jing said with as much of a mockingly formal bow as he could make in such close quarters. "You were too cute for me to resist. I shall have to try harder in the future. But, for the record?"

Iman glared at him with narrowed eyes and a shy smile on his lips. "What?"

"You have but to ask and I will gladly give you many more kisses of many types," Jing said.

He caught Iman's hand when Iman started to smack him in the chest again. Iman seemed to hold his breath as Jing brushed a feather-light kiss over Iman's knuckles. When Iman let the breath out it was in a deep groan that made Jing's pants tighten at the groin and his heart lurch. Maybe, possibly, there could be more? But no, this was only a ruse and perhaps not a very effective one given the looks Jing's bodyguards gave the two of them.

Except that they looked as though they believed the fake engagement and were disturbed by it far more than not being fooled by it. Jing pushed that thought down along with his fears for what was coming at them. It was more important to ensure that Iman was safe and happy, thus able to focus on saving the Ceelen, than it was to figuring out exactly when he'd fallen for Iman.

Because he most certainly had.

The question was whether anything could come of it when there was so much facing Jing and the Ceelen. And when Iman had so many secrets that could be so very deadly to them all.

10. Facing Fears

"This really isn't necessary," Iman whispered to Jing. "Truly. We don't need to bother with this. I swear, it will be fine without bothering your doctors at all."

Jing's arms tightened around Iman's waist, holding him in place as the very nice, very nonthreatening but still terrifying little old woman of a doctor scanned him. Her frown made his heart pound as if it was trying to explode. When she scanned him a second time, she grunted and then shook her head.

"Whoever worked on you previously made an absolute muddle of you, young man," the doctor, Esme Keen, said. "Contradictory programming on your nanites, messed up hormone levels, and the changes to your skin tone are absolutely horrific. I'm surprised you're not all over pimples and rashes."

"That's… fairly common, actually," Iman admitted. His voice shook horrifically but Doctor Keen didn't seem to mind that. "I avoid a great many foods because of my skin."

She snorted, still staring at her scanner. "You shouldn't have to. The nanites you have should take care of anything you introduce into your system but their programming has been muddled with so many times that there's no telling exactly how they were set up initially. Frankly, I think we should just wipe their original programming and install a new set of directives."

Iman groaned and turned his face into Jing's neck. Not in time to keep from seeing Motya's concerned frown or Doctor Keen's surprised blink. Every single time he'd had the programming adjusted it had been torture. And now she wanted to do it all over again?

Jing nuzzled Iman's forehead. "How long will that take?"

"Hmm, about ten minutes to strip the old programming out," Doctor Keen said, "and then another ten or so for the new to upload. I'd expect the new programming to take effect over a two hour span of time. Any genetic issues that need to be included, young man?"

"What?" Iman asked. The pounding of his heart had transformed to a sort of empty feel where the whole room floated just out of reach and his body felt like it was made of the most delicate glass possible.

"Genetic issues," Doctor Keen asked again.

She blinked at him and then sighed as she ran her scanner over him. Something beeped quietly and then there was a wave of intense peace through him. Calm. Quiet. Relaxation that made Iman stare at her scanner.

"Drugged me?" Iman asked and no, he didn't actually slur the words even though he should have given how he felt.

"Not at all," Doctor Keen said. "I had your nanites trigger an endorphin wave in your brain. Just a brief one. It countered a great many of the excess stress hormones loose in your body. Not a long-term solution but we'll definitely program in that they should watch for inappropriate stress responses so that they can reduce the hormone levels when you don't need to be on high alert. So. Genetic issues?"

"Ah, well, um…" Iman stared at her before turning to Jing whose worried frown turned into an amused grin. "Stop that, you distracting man. I don't know how to answer that."

"Set his genetics to match his physical appearance," Jing told Doctor Keen. "Given how badly the nanites were programmed previously there's no point to trying to go backwards in time."

"Easier to do, certainly," Doctor Keen agreed. "You've got heart issues, several ulcers, clear signs of chronic sleep deprivation, patterns in your brain suggestive of PTSD, probably chronic, and a huge number of broken bones that need to be smoothed at the cellular level. We'll give them that as the first round of work. I'll want to keep working on the rest of the issues. Your skin's going to be difficult until everything settles down. And I don't want you making any dramatic changes to your appearance, young man! Not anytime soon at any rate. You've a perfectly serviceable face, better than Jing's with that nose of his, so leave it be."

"I like his nose," Iman protested, mildly, cautiously because Doctor Keen was still a doctor even if she appeared to be a miracle worker of epic proportions. "It gives his face character."

Doctor Keen grinned at him and winked as if she approved of that sentiment. Iman sat still for her for ten minutes as she laid a scanning device against his chest. The silence was deafening but at the end of it she nodded her approval.

"All clean," Doctor Keen said. "Good. Now, we have a scan of Ru's nanites and Nthanda, bless his heart, has directed us to upgrade everyone in the Ceelen to have the same level of healing. Gensyn healing, that is. So. This marriage you two plan. Is it a sure thing or something that might not happen? Outside of the problems, of course."

She waved a hand to dismiss the Collective as if they were a gnat buzzing around her ears. Which. Well. Iman thought he could be forgiven for starting to giggle hysterically at that. The Collective as gnats. What would the universe come to next?

He curled into Jing's arms, more than happy to allow Jing to comfort him for any reason at all. Hospitals, doctors, the complete up-ending of his life and every one of his dreams of freedom with a path that didn't involve spending huge amounts of money on doctors that abused him and then didn't deliver what they promised. Not to mention the surety of death coming for him and Jing in the very near future.

"Do it," Jing ordered. "On me and the others as well."

"I already got your girls," Doctor Keen said sternly enough that Iman swallowed down his hysterical giggles at last. "Not that Raven. Stubborn woman wouldn't stand still long enough. But the others did. There's just you and your boy left now. I'll be tracking Raven down as well."

Jing sighed, bowed his head slightly, and then nodded. "I sent her a direct order to report to you the moment she wakes up. So expect her to be cranky, unfed and un-showered but she will report in. Raven's very good about direct orders."

Doctor Keen snorted a little laugh. Her sly grin was wicked and just the right side of wild. Surprisingly, Iman found himself relaxing as she programmed her scanner and then held it on his chest again for ten minutes.

There was no pain, no electrical discharge. Nothing to show that anything was happening other than a stead series of little beeps and the increasingly approving smile on Doctor Keen's face. Finally, after ten minutes she stepped back and waved for Iman to move to the side. Which he did, somewhat reluctantly, so that Doctor Keen could do the same to Jing. Who kept craning his neck to see what the scanner said even though there was nothing much to see besides a little progress bar that beeped every few seconds.

"All done," Doctor Keen said with a firm nod. "Now, you two go eat something and drink at least ten ounces of water. You're both dehydrated and the nanites need more fluids in your bodies. I will want you to come back tomorrow, young man, so that we can do a review of your current condition and plan out future treatment for your issues."

"He will," Jing said before Iman could open his mouth to protest. "You will. Even if I have to carry you here over my shoulder."

"Beautiful man," Iman said in his loftiest tone even though he was scrambling to get into his coat and out of the hospital as quickly as possible, "you should carry me properly in your arms."

"Too tall," Jing replied, completely unrepentant the annoyingly perfect wretch. "Over the shoulder."

They left with Doctor Keen's snickers following on their heels and Motya chuckling in front of them. She led them onwards to the closest cafeteria where Jing insisted on Iman eating a full meal and drinking the requisite ten ounces of fluids. He rather felt as though he'd slosh when he moved but he had to admit that he felt better once he'd eaten. It had been rather a while since his last meal.

Surprisingly, Motya and her crew gave them enough space so that they had the illusion of privacy in the large cafeteria. It was late in third shift, edging towards the start of first shift, not that the ship's time coincided at all with Melin's time below. Orbital trajectories made that quite ridiculous to arrange. Despite being in the heart of the Graceful Swan, there were several view screens around the room showing the planet below.

It was quite lovely, oceans dark and oily black and land crisscrossed by city lights. Quite the heavily populated planet, Melin. Iman wrinkled his nose as he sipped the last bits of his drink, a simple coffee syrup mixed with a milk-based product. Such an ugly thing, covering a planet with city. Tasma was much better. Its cities were all in orbit, in space stations, while the planet below was as natural as could be.

So many lovely places to hide on and around Tasma. And so few here on Melin.

"You do realize that you don't have to run quite so hard now," Jing murmured. His dark eyes were intent behind the rim of his cup.

"Beloved man, I always have to run," Iman said. "That is just the way the universe works. I would have thought that you knew that. This entire situation will be resolved soon enough. There's no need to make this into anything more than it is."

"And if I want to make it into more?" Jing asked.

He set the cup down, stared at Iman. Jing's knuckles were quite pale from the power of his grip on the cup. And his mouth turned down at the corners with desperation and hope battling in his eyes. Iman stared at him, frankly stared when he should have laughed and joked and looked away because this wasn't something that would work.

"I almost believe you're serious," Iman whispered.

"I am," Jing said. "I'm almost convinced that you mean all those endearments you throw at me."

"Why does no one ever believe me when I say thing?" Iman asked and the question was far more serious than it normally would be. "Of course I mean it. Your Raven is the most terrifying woman I have ever met, short of the Collective. You are stunningly handsome and amazingly beautiful and that nose of yours only adds to your attractiveness. Which, just so we're perfectly clear, should be illegal. Your effect on my attention span is quite appalling. Especially if you dare to take your shirt off."

Jing started grinning.

"I'll admit that I do tend towards the florid," Iman continued even though his cheeks were burning, "but that doesn't mean that my words are false."

"No one talks that way," Jing said.

"I do," Iman said.

And that brought him right back to the things he couldn't talk about, his past and his escape and the terror that kept him running all the time even when he didn't really need to. Like now. Just brushing up against the fact that he'd learned his speech patterns as an attempt to set himself off from the people back on Old Earth made his heart rate spike.

Only to have it begin to fall again moments later.

Iman blinked, rubbing his chest. "How very odd."

"What?" Jing asked.

"I was… skirting the edge of a panic attack with this conversation," Iman said. He stared at Jing. "And my heart began to pound, as it always has. But…"

"It stopped?"

"Yes," Iman said. He laughed, a little shaky and a lot stunned. "How very incredible. I wouldn't have thought that nanites could do such a thing. Even though Doctor Keen did calm me down quite dramatically back in the hospital."

"I did tell you that our doctors are much better than the ones you'd dealt with before," Jing said.

He was smug enough that Iman laughed at him. Truly, what a thing to take pride in. Except that yes, Iman could actually understand pride in fixing something this momentous. Rather than say anything, especially when Iman wasn't at all sure that the nanites could continue to short-circuit his panic attacks, Iman looked at the view screens.

Then looked again.

Then bolted to his feet because there was a hoard of small fast very deadly looking ships coming up off Melin right at the day-night dividing line. Jing looked and then they were both running for the door, Motya and her crew on their heels. The attack had begun.

Now to see if they would survive the day as they had the night.

11. Two Steps Back

Three hours.

Jing cursed under his breath as he worked with Nthanda to direct their ships. The crippled computer systems did not make it easy. Heavily armored shuttles slipped through their defenses every minute or two, darting towards landing bays that were already badly damaged. Very soon they wouldn't be able to keep the Collective off the Graceful Swan.

He was completely certain that the moment they did board was the moment that they all died. The engines were still faulty, responding to commands that came from outside the ship instead of inside. Bala and Ru were working desperately with the Hyun-Ju to find the source but so far they'd failed. Iman was working just as desperately to ensure that their weapon systems didn't shut down unpredictably.

"They're going to get through," Nthanda murmured to Jing. Sweat sheened his forehead, soaked his shirt.

"I know," Jing agreed in a normal tone because everyone could see what was coming. There was no reason to hide from it. "It's inevitable."

"They want their sisters," Iman said from the console on the other side of the room. "We could turn them over. Minus one, of course, but it might slow them down."

"No," Jing said at the same time Nthanda did.

"I will not submit to these terrorists!" Nthanda snapped. "Nor to their employers."

Iman sighed as he blew another wave of the attackers out of the sky. He looked resigned, almost philosophical, an odd expression on Iman's face. Normally in a situation like this he would be frantic and panicky. Apparently the change to his nanites had worked wonders for Iman's unpredictable and difficult moods.

Still, despite Nthanda's fury, Iman had a point. They were not going to win this battle. It simply wasn't possible. If they could somehow draw the attackers away it would give Bala, Ru and the Hyun-Ju time to wrest control over the engines away from the Collective. At which point they could depart the system, go somewhere safer. Perhaps even to the Drathanni who would surely be happy to snap at whoever paid the Collective off.

"Idea," Jing said and then shook his head as it came out in that particularly mild tone of voice that made every single head whip around to stare at him. "Focus people. We don't want to die."

Most heads went right back where they should be. Even Iman's did but he never had needed to focus on you to listen to you. Nthanda side-eyed Jing, shoulders stiff but lips curling upwards in a little hopeful smile.

"We do not wish to free the Collective," Jing murmured to Nthanda.

"Most certainly not," Nthanda agreed.

"We need time and breathing room," Jing continued, doing his best to prevent another of the interminable waves from breaking through. It was not easy at all.

"Very much so."

"Iman and I could take the Collective to the Drath," Jing suggested and then immediately hissed when Nthanda straightened up, abandoning his duties despite the next wave approaching.

It would work. They wouldn't even have to go all the way across the human sphere. There had been a large contingent of the Drath on Tasma when Jing and Iman had run back to the Graceful Swan. They would very likely be delighted for the chance to assert their power over humanity. Better still, it would draw attention to the attacks against the Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju, something that was sure to win them allies.

Of course, it would take Jing straight back to the place where he'd nearly been assassinated but hopefully the situation would have changed enough with Nthanda's recovered babies that it wouldn't be a problem.

"I hate that idea," Nthanda admitted but his shoulders were slumped and his lips a mere thin line slashed across his face.

"Iman will likely punch me for it," Jing agreed.

"That I will, beloved man, that I will," Iman said with an amused snort. "Unfortunately at the moment I see no other options. We cannot hold out much longer."

Which was how Jing and Iman ended up running through the hallways of the Graceful Swan with all of Jing's bodyguards. It took all of their efforts, plus the help of half a dozen Hyun-Ju warriors, to transfer the Collective to Jing's flyer. Thankfully it was fully armed, the fuel tanks topped off and ready to go when they got there.

Jing took several head butts as he shoved the last Collective member, the one with the most bruises who seemed to believe that biting was a weapon of first resort instead of last, into her cell and secured her. It didn't do much. His nose was already flattened and the upgraded nanites ensured that his nose only bled for a few moments.

"You'll all die for this!" the woman shouted.

"Everyone dies," Jing said. He smiled at the startled look in her eyes. "Simple fact. Everyone dies."

She cursed at him so viciously that Jing chuckled. Iman sighed and shook his head. So determined to appear fierce when there was so little to gain. It reminded him of being younger and made him wonder just how old the Collective members actually were. Which truly didn't matter at this moment. There was so much that they needed to do and so many threats against the Ceelen but at least he would have Iman by his side. That made all of it bearable.

"If you don't turn us over you'll all be killed!" the woman shouted as Jing and Iman walked away. "We'll kill every single one of you."

"Once again," Jing said, "everyone dies."

The brig, such as it was given that it was a series of small cargo holds for goods that needed special care rather than a proper prison facility, echoed with the avalanche of cursing directed at his back. By the time he arrived in the control room, Iman at his side, the flyer's engines were humming and the shields were at the ready.

Jing paused, looked at Iman who blushed, and then laughed that he'd ever thought that Iman was truly helpless when surrounded by technology. Of course he had the modifications to be able to interact with the flyer. It was a logical change given how desperately Iman needed to be able to bolt at any moment.

"I thought it would be best to expedite our departure," Iman said.

"Thank you. We should leave as quickly as possible."

Iman flinched away from Raven's sudden gasp of outrage as she realized what Iman had done. Jing waved for her to stand down. Then glared at her when she drew her blaster. Yes, he'd allowed it in the past but it wasn't appropriate now and Raven knew better than that. There were more important issues than her hated of Iman.

"Leave him be," Jing ordered, not just to Raven but to all of his bodyguards over the system. "I don't want you to bully or harm him."

"He's a con-man!" Raven shouted. "You know this! Sir, you can't actually trust him. He's absolutely not reliable."

Jing studied her for a long moment, something like rage battling with the doubts that he'd spent the last few years cultivating. Not just doubts about Iman, of which there were many, but also doubts about his own judgments. His validity as the heir to the Ceelen. Ever since he was small he'd been told that he was second best, that his opinions didn't matter.

But they did. Nthanda had far too much to deal with at the moment. He couldn't focus on the wider picture when he was fighting for the lives of all the Ceelen. Someone needed to focus on this mission, this threat, and that someone was Jing. And Jing trusted Iman.

"Report to Lee for reassignment, then," Jing said, staring into Raven's eyes as she gasped and stepped back. "If you will not take my orders then I cannot take you into the field. Iman is my ally in this. Given that your distaste for him has overwhelmed your ability to do as you should, you're no good to me. Motya can take over for you."

"Sir," Raven whispered. The blood drained from her face, leaving her ashy and shaking.

"You're the best bodyguard I've ever encountered," Jing said, patting Iman's hand when he clutched Jing's elbow, "and I am glad to have worked with you. But I will not take someone I cannot trust into this battle. You either accept Iman by my side or you leave."

Raven shook her head, mouth open though no words came out. She straightened, staring at Jing with confusion, horror, and then resignation. When Raven nodded it was a nod of goodbye, not acceptance. Which hurt but Jing couldn't say that he was surprised. There had never been any peace between Raven and Iman, from the very beginning.

"You're turning them over and then coming back, yes?" Raven asked.

"The Collective?" Jing asked, nodding when Raven jerked her head once. "I'm taking them to the Drath, asking that they intervene and then, probably, attempting to find out who is behind the Collective. This battle is only a skirmish, Raven. The war won't end until we know who is targeting us. Both us and the Hyun-Ju."

"All of the space faring lines," Iman murmured. He flinched away from Raven's snarl. "It's not only the Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju. It's all of the lines, oh most terrifying one. I was close before Jing nearly walked into his own assassination. I believe I can still get the information if I try. I just have to return to Tasma and contact Strohkirch."

Raven huffed but she swallowed as she stared at Iman as if seeing him for the first time. It made Iman cringe and hide behind Jing. Understandably given that most of the time when Raven stared it was because she was planning out a dozen or so ways to kill you. This time seemed different because Raven didn't snarl or snap anything. She sighed as her shoulders slumped.

"I can't trust him," Raven admitted.

"I didn't say that you had to trust him," Jing said, laughing softly when Iman huffed against the nape of his neck. "Only that you have to take my orders in the field. We cannot afford to delay any longer, Raven. Either accept that he will be by my side and that I trust him or leave."

Raven looked to Motya who bit her lip and shrugged. Then she nodded once, mouth twisted in a sour expression as she put on her most professionally blank expression. Jing's heart skipped a beat to see it when he hadn't expected that he would ever see it again.

"Your orders, sir?"

Jing smiled. "Man the guns, all of you. We're blowing our way through the line and running for the Wave. I'm taking us to Tasma by the quickest path possible so you'll need to be strapped in and ready for it. Make sure someone is available to secure the captives if they somehow break free."

"Sir, yes sir!"

They all, Raven and Motya included, whirled and ran to the gunports. Jing waited until they were gone to allow himself the shudder he'd been holding back. Iman's arms snaked around his waist, hugging tentatively. Jing smiled, turned his head and kissed Iman's cheek.

"Let's go," Jing said. "Any magic you can do to make the guns more effective, the Wave drive come online sooner or just to keep us alive would be welcome."

"I shall do my best, my beautiful gammerstang," Iman whispered. "Just… keep us alive if you can."

Jing nodded. He glanced back towards the hallway once in the pilot's chair. There was so much that he had to work out, not only with Iman but also with Raven and her crew. So many issues that had to be dealt with. The problem was that Jing wasn't at all sure that he would have the time to do that.

He disengaged the docking systems, sent a message to Nthanda and then then let out a long slow breath. Another step forward or several steps back, it didn't matter. Better to be moving than sitting still. Come what may, they would face this battle and find a way to win.

It was that the Ceelen did.

What Jing did.

At least he could do it with Iman by his side, this time without coercion. As Jing spun the flyer so that they could blast out of the docking bay as quickly as possible, Jing found himself praying to the hundred thousand gods of the Ceelen. Let this work. Let it buy Nthanda and Ru time.

And most importantly, let them survive it. Everything else could be worked around as long as they survived.

12. Escape Run

"Shields at forty percent!" Iman shouted as Jing piloted the flyer in such wild swoops and curls that there was no possibility of plotting out how to make the run to engage the wave drive. "I can't plot a course!"

"Don't bother," Jing said. "I've got that."

"How?" Iman gasped as they spiraled even harder, corkscrewing across the solar system with blasts rocking the flyer side to side.

One blast missed the nose of the flyer by yards, scorching the sensors and blinding them for precious seconds. Iman heard Raven shout and curse, heard Motya's sobbing prayers as they and the other guards fired at everything that got close to them.

Jing's ruse had been entirely effective. The instant they left the Graceful Swan their attackers had broken off to chase Jing, Iman and the imprisoned Collective. If Iman allowed himself he could hear the Collective cursing and laughing in their cells. More laughter than curses but then Iman hadn't, yet, turned off the artificial gravity. Very soon he would have to if he was to preserve the shields and nothing Jing did gave Iman any confidence that they'd be able to make the Wave drive engage.

"Brace yourselves!" Jing shouted both verbally and through the system. "We're going!"

"What?"

Iman's scream was matched by Raven's shout of horror and Motya wail from her gunport. But the next moment the flyer bucked so hard that Iman was flung against the restraints and then the world… shifted.

The Wave.

A warping of time and space where the curve of spacetime built up behind the ship and dropped in front of it, creating a shifting that allowed a ship to move faster than the speed of light. Iman knew, academically, that it was perfectly safe. Hundreds of thousands of ships traveled on the Wave every year. More as the Wave Drive spread through the human sphere.

But it was a 'gift' from the Drath who did not think or act at all like humans. While the Drath had no side effects from using the Wave Drive, humans most certainly did. And the harder you pushed the Wave the greater the effects could be.

"Jing…!" Iman whispered, struggling against the lethargy and distraction that came from a Wave Drive pushed to its absolute maximum. His lips felt fuller, softer somehow, while his hair brushed over the nape of his neck like the scratchiest wool ever. The color of the screen distracted him from the not-quite shifting shape of the letters displayed there. Iman found himself staring at a tiny glint of light at the corner of the console rather than reading, working, doing what he should be doing. He'd never felt a Wave this strong before…

"Hush," Jing said and wonder of wonders the man sounded as though he was doing nothing more challenging than walking up a hallway with a platter of overfull glasses. "I'm concentrating, Love."

Lethargically turning gifted Iman with a view of the screen showing the Wave that Jing had crafted. It was a tunnel, almost a wormhole, wrapping around the flyer in a powerful curl that made Iman start laughing. How could he not?

"The Wave," Iman laughed, "oh goodness, you're riding the curl of the Wave!"

"Mmm, I did study that link you gave me of surfers," Jing said. He kept his eyes on the instruments, on the Wave, for which Iman could only be thankful. "It was… inspirational. Now hush. Or attempt to get everything sorted out. The exit might be…"

"Abrupt."

"Yes."

Abrupt was a good word for it. Calculations flitted through the back of Iman's mind as he struggled to focus on recharging the shields, rearming Raven, Motya and the girls' weapons between getting distracted by the feeling of his tongue against his teeth and the smell of scorching still rising from his coat.

A Wave this strong, this tightly curled, would send them to Tasma incredibly quickly but their exit from faster than light travel was likely to be a horror. If they arrived outside the Ort cloud they'd careen into the icy bodies. Inside? They might smash straight into the closest planet. Too far away and they might not have the fuel left to get to the Drath or the Collective might intercept them before they could get to safety. So many things might go wrong and there was so little that Iman could do. His mind kept betraying him, flitting away from his tasks to bat around other concepts better left alone.

Love.

Jing had called him 'love'. It wasn't the first time. But those had been public, pursuant to their ruse of being engaged. This was private, just the two of them alone in the cockpit. Not even Raven and Motya would listen in right now. They were likely struggling just as Iman was to focus on coordinating their fingers and eyes so that they could make sure that their guns were working properly.

Jing loved Iman.

When had that happened? How had that happened? Certainly, Iman had been in love with Jing for years but there'd been no sign of that being returned until the last two days. How could a simple ruse have changed things so utterly?

"Ready…" Jing said, pulling Iman's mind back from his awed, panicky, frantic rambles.

"Close or far?" Iman asked.

"Close as I can get it," Jing answered.

Iman didn't have the time to gasp or scold him or even brace himself because the next moment Jing cut the Wave and they tumbled, quite literally, into normal space. The gravity controls gave out instantly. The force of their tumble flung Iman against his restraints hard enough that he felt ribs snap. There was screaming from the cells, honestly terrified screaming, and Raven's cursing interspersed with grunts.

A flash of station passed Iman's eye and he gasped, flinging his mind into the flyer's systems so that he could determine their position, the danger level, what they had to do. Too close, too close, much too close! He flung on the stabilizers, jerked hard on the engines to slow them down. Jing cursed and then took his hands from the controls.

"Do it!" Jing shouted to Iman.

Iman stomped hard on the urge to curse, just as hard as he stomped on the engines, slowing the flyer until their tumble shifted into a lazy loop that sent them past the docking bays of the station. Tasma Orbital Station 19. Not the one they wanted, perhaps, but good enough. Strohkirch was here, not on 17 where the casinos were, so it might be better.

"Distressed ship," called the station, "do you require assistance?"

The tractor beams engaged before even Iman could reply. Which. Yes. Good. Needed. Iman cut engines, pulled his mind back into his body, and then whined at the pain in his arms, legs, neck and poor broken ribs. That appeared to already be healing.

"Yes," Jing said. "We do require assistance. Do you have Drathanni on board?"

"Uh, yes?"

Iman snorted at the obvious shock in the station's voice. Justified, certainly. Very few people actively sought out the Drath unless they had to. But they did have to so it was as it was. Jing smirked, shrugging and then wincing as if he'd pulled muscles, too.

"Good," Jing said. "I need to speak to whoever is in charge of the Drathanni and will definitely need a Drathanni security detail. It's urgent."

"Um, they'll be, ah, waiting for you when you dock."

Which very likely meant that the Drath contingent had been in the control center when they arrived and was now ferociously curious about what they were up to. Iman rather hoped that it wasn't a contingent of warrior class Drath. They were always so very intimidating. But then any Drath was moderately terrifying. Something about their appearance always made him shudder.

"Thank you," Jing said. "I appreciate it."

Jing signed off and sagged back into his seat. Iman was tempted to do the same but cataloging the swift healing of his various injuries distracted him. So did watching the vicious bruise on the back of Jing's hand heal as if it was wax being melted by a blowtorch. How odd. Wonderful but odd.

"Do you think they're calling for help?" Iman murmured.

"The Collective?"

"Of course."

"Yes, I'm sure they are," Jing said. "That's why I want the Drathanni there to claim them. It's the only chance we have to survive this, I think."

Iman sighed, turning so that he could stare into Jing's tired and then suddenly amused eyes. Survival. He honestly didn't think that there was much of a chance of surviving this. But it was a pleasant concept nonetheless. Not that Iman was at all certain what he'd do if he did survive all of this.

His nanites were reprogrammed to something approximating stability. There was no need for him to go have them adjusted by those, he could see it now, hacks that he'd been to before. No more torture, no more fear, no more dreading the regular visits to the illegal and underground hospitals he'd always visited.

But he also wasn't sure that it was enough. Doctor Keen had said that he needed more treatments. And Jing seemed to believe that Iman would be able to get those treatments. That Iman would stay by his side.

"You're thinking too hard," Jing whispered.

"Not possible," Iman replied in a quiet murmur, one hand resting on his progressively less painful ribs. "One should always think about the future lest one be unprepared for it."

"I would prefer that your future be with me," Jing said.

He raised a hand, the bruised one, and set it against Iman's cheek. The bruise didn't seem to bother him. Jing's thumb brushed over Iman's cheek, moving a lock of hair that had been flung into Iman's face without his being aware of it. Honestly, Iman probably looked a fright but he didn't move to straighten his clothes or hair.

Jing's eyes, his broad hand, pinned Iman in place. There was far too much honest desire there for Iman to move away. He'd had people gaze at him with desire before but it had been the desire to rape, to own, to take and not give back. Iman thought that Jing's expression was something entirely different.

Want, yes, but not to take. To give. To share. To help.

Had Iman ever had anyone what to actually help him? Without incentives?

He didn't think so.

"I'm not…" Iman whispered. Stopped when Jing put his thumb over Iman's mouth.

"I know," Jing said. "And that's fine. I am not asking for decisions now, Iman. I only want you to know that you have a place by my side."

"And if the Ceelen object to that?" Iman asked, his voice a tiny whisper so weak that he couldn't believe that Jing heard it.

Jing smiled, shrugged. "Well, they hardly need another heir now that Nthanda has his sons. I can remove myself from the line and travel with you. It would be… nice… not to have the weight of my duties keeping me back."

Iman shook his head, dislodging Jing's hand. As if he had any idea what it was like to be truly homeless. To travel and struggle and search for the least little bit of security. But it was Jing, wasn't it? Nthanda would likely ensure that Jing had his own ship, that he could come and go from the Ceelen at will. For all Iman knew Nthanda would have Jing work as a small freighter or passenger liner, taking people and goods to less active worlds that rarely had reliable space service.

And truthfully, Jing would excel at that, wouldn't he? Yes, he would. It was a tempting little dream, one that Iman could almost see himself in, if only it weren't for the absolute truth that Jing didn't know. Iman could never stop running.

Old Earth would have him back, one way or the other. Anyone and anything in the way would be destroyed. Iman couldn't allow that to happen to Jing, especially not when he looked at Iman like he was the center of Jing's universe.

They both jerked apart as the flyer thumped into its docking berth. Time to deal with the Collective and the Drath. Not a combination that Iman would have chosen but beggars could never be choosers and if they were very, very lucky this might save the Ceelen from the waves of attack.

Might.

He had his doubts. No reason to verbalize them as the Collective began shouting at them and Raven appeared, nose bleeding, to order her women to bring the Collective along. Iman stayed firmly behind Jing, firmly away from both Raven and the Collective who looked considerably more battered by their arrival than anyone else. Bruises, black eyes, bloody noses and limps were the order of the day for them.

"You'll pay for that," one of the Collective said, spitting blood at Jing.

"Your people were shooting to kill," Jing replied completely calmly. So calmly that you might have thought that nothing was wrong. "You'd have died if I hadn't taken an extreme Wave."

Every single member of the Collective stopped cursing to stare at him. The 'lead' one who'd spit at Jing stared at Iman. All Iman could do was shrug.

"If you're familiar with the concept of surfing," Iman said, "then you'll understand when I say that we just surfed the most extreme barrel the galaxy has seen, perhaps outside of certain military couriers whose pilots are completely insane."

"In this thing?" the 'lead' Collective gasped. "You're lucky the ship didn't fly apart!"

"Once again," Jing said, lips twitching with amusement, "your people were shooting to kill. I will always take a chance at life over certain death. Bring them. The authorities are waiting."

Which started the cursing and struggling but to Iman's amusement the Collective didn't struggle quite as hard now. It looked to him as though they wanted to get off the flyer and away from Jing's particular brand of madcap piloting. Jing let them be pushed out of the flyer first. Iman let Jing precede him down the ramp.

They were alive.

Now they just had to survive interacting with the Drath.

13. Drathanni Pride

The landing bay was packed. Ships, crews, technicians, all of them obstacles between Jing and his goal of getting the Drathanni's assistance. Station security was waiting by the end of the ramp. They started out grimly determined, shock rods at the ready, but their eyes went wide when they saw the condition of the Collective women and then their lips trembled against smiles when they heard the cursing.

Not what Jing wanted at all.

"Keep control of the Collective," Jing ordered Raven and her crew. "I don't know who on the station might have been paid off. I won't risk losing them now."

"Understood," Raven replied.

She waved for her crew to block station security from taking control and then glared at them until they formed a sort of honor guard around their group so that Raven could lead the Collective to the Drathanni. Better. Not what Jing wanted. Raven's shoulders were as tight as high tension steel but at least she was following orders properly.

Iman, no surprise, lurked behind Jing. He looked utterly spooked but he wasn't sweating or shaking, nor was he babbling, so the nanites must be doing their job keeping him from panicking unnecessarily. Jing rather thought he might panic by the time this was over. He'd never dealt directly with the Drathanni before. The one time the Drathanni had interacted with the Ceelen it had been Nthanda's father who handled all contact. Neither Nthanda nor Jing had seen or spoken to them.

An oversight to be sure.

The Drathanni stood, lurked really, near the doors to the rest of the station. They were bigger than Jing remembered, their shoulders a Jing's eye level. When he was younger, Jing had thought that Drathanni looked like dogs, very large and heavy-brained dogs that had extra-long prehensile tails with a modified hand on the end. These Drathanni looked like nightmare versions, huge, burly, covered with rough dark coats covered in stripes and spots. Their eyes were gold and red and their teeth, easily seen because every time a dock worker got within a handful of yards their lips curled, were as long as Jing's whole hand.

"Oh lovely," Iman breathed. "Warrior caste. Exactly what I didn't want."

"You know about the Drathanni?" Jing asked, stunned.

"Mm-hmm," Iman said, shivering and then clutching Jing's arm. He smiled when Jing patted his hands. "I do. They're… well. Do not treat them like dogs. They are not dogs. They are nothing like dogs. Except for all the ways that they are like dogs but those are not enough ways for it to be effective."

"Clear as a blast shield, Love," Jing said and then chuckled when Iman glared at him. "We'll cope. I'd rather have warriors given what we're dealing with."

"I'd rather have lovely svelte diplomats who aren't prone to biting heads off when they're annoyed," Iman said with such seriousness that Jing's stomach did a slow roll of nervousness.

Jing looked back at the Drathanni and shivered. At least until he noticed that the biggest and fiercest Drathanni's tail curled in loops every time someone cringed away from it. Her? Him? He had no idea how to tell. The way the Drathanni's ears twitched was too much like Imani's little lap dog when she was amused. And one of the smaller Drathanni huffed, jaw dropped open, lips loose and soft.

Amused. The Drathanni weren't angry. They were amused by the way everyone reacted. Probably. It didn't mean that Jing wouldn't get his head bitten off. It was at exactly the right height for the Drathanni to snap at him if they wanted to.

He let out a breath, patted Iman's arm and then strode over to bow properly to the biggest Drathanni.

"Thank you for your assistance," Jing said. "I greatly appreciate it. The Ceelen have a major problem and we request your assistance."

"And why should we interfere in internal Human affairs?" the smaller one who'd been huffing asked.

Jing linked, looked at the big one, and then bowed to the smaller one instead. Bodyguard? Perhaps. Probably, even.

"Because this is related to Old Earth's efforts to keep their people enslaved," Jing said.

Anything that he or the Drathanni might have said was drowned out by the Collective's screams of outrage, fury. They cursed, screamed and spit at Jing, called him everything under the stars. Including, oddly, a 'moldy scrap of orange peel' once. As they screamed, the Drathanni's lips curled, hard and tight. Their tails went rigid on the third closest to their bodies and the hair stood up over their shoulders. The hands at the ends of their tails flexed strangely enough that Jing had to swallow down nausea.

"Oh, do be quiet," Iman finally bellowed. "Raven, you beautifully dangerous woman, do please silence them."

"Gladly," Raven said.

Her voice carried easily because every single one of Jing's bodyguards, Raven included, had already slammed the Collective into the decking and then kneeled on their backs until they wheezed into silence. It took two to silence the member of the Collective that Jing thought of as the leader but two big burly women kneeling on her back while Raven rested her blaster against the woman's temple did finally shut her up.

"My apologies, beloved," Iman said, "but they were giving me a terrible headache with that nonsense."

"You are… mates?" the smaller Drathanni asked, sniffing the air.

"I hope that we will be," Jing said. He smiled at Iman's blush. "He hasn't said yes, yet."

"Odd that he wouldn't given the way he smells," the smaller Drathanni said. Their tail looped when Iman huffed at them both, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or not. The chase is the best part."

Jing laughed. "It's been quite the chase. I could do with fewer explosions and near-death incidents but that's what we've been given."

"I believe I could do with fewer assassins," Iman said. He lifted his chin and glared when Jing raised an eyebrow at him. "You tempt fate every time you open your mouth in public, beloved. Do attempt some level of discretion."

Jing swallowed a laugh but it wormed its way out immediately when he saw that all the Drathanni tails were looped so tightly that the looked like springs. So. Drathanni had senses of humor and they might like banter. At least among humans aiming to be 'mates'. So noted.

The Collective leader snarled at him but she couldn't get enough air to breathe. The smaller Drathanni sniffed at her, at the other Collective members. Her, if she was a female, ears went floppy, one to the side and the other halfway back towards her neck.

"They smell very satisfied with themselves," the Drathanni commented. She snorted. "And now quite alarmed. I would guess that they weren't expecting that we actually do think and communicate outside of our own species."

"A thing I'm quite grateful for," Jing said as he stared at the Collective thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps I'm wrong about who their particular employer is but I do believe that this all ties back into Old Earth's efforts to isolate themselves. I would like to transfer them into your custody. They are members of a group called the Collective. They are, we believe, clones and litter-mates and they are directly responsible for the fighting between the Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju, the apparent death of Nthanda Ceelen's offspring, the actual deaths of Nthanda's unborn siblings, and a huge attack on the Ceelen today."

The Drathanni stared at Jing for a long moment, her tail uncurling. When she stepped closer Iman gasped but Jing stood firm. Noses were apparently quite important to the Drathanni so letting her sniff him to smell the truth of his statements was mandatory.

She smelled so much like faintly rotted meat and unwashed dog that Jing had to hold his breath. There was a sort of heat around her that made him shiver. The Drathanni seemed to generate more heat than a human of similar size would so there was an impact of hot against his face before she even breathed on him.

When she stepped back, tail trashing, her ears were plastered to her skull and her hackles were up. Even though she was substantially smaller than the other Drathanni she looked as terrifying as anything Jing had ever seen. He swallowed, struggled against the urge to rub his hands over his thighs to wipe away the sweat, and then stiffened when she glared at the Collective.

"That was truth," the Drathanni said.

"Rritia," the biggest Drathanni huffed only to flinch when Rritia snapped at him.

"I may be the only male here, Trrema," Rritia snarled, thus flipping Jing's automatic assumptions about genders among the Drathanni, "but my nose works just as well as yours does. He told the truth. They are under attack and this… litter… has attempted to destroy them."

"Not… your… business!" the lead Collective woman managed to say despite Raven smacking her head into the decking several times.

"You're quite wrong there," Trrema said with an annoyed little snort. "It is our business. We Gifted the Wave Drive to the Ceelen. You're trying to destroy them. That was lovely piloting, by the way. Commendations are due to your pilot."

"Thank you," Jing said so smugly that he laughed when Iman swatted his shoulder and Motya rolled her eyes. "I'll need to check the flyer before I try to go out again but it was vital to get here before the Collective's other members could move to secure them from questioning. I truly do only trust the Drathanni to adjudicate in this matter. I do not trust human authorities to do so. There is simply too much power and money involved."

That made the Collective snarl and the Drathanni nod. A few tails wagged. Rritia's tail looped once so obviously he found the entire situation at least somewhat amusing. Jing had no idea why. Perhaps it was an alien thing. Aliens would think differently one would assume.

Before Rritia could ask anything further, the station head came in, puffing and red-faced from running. He had twenty or so guards at his back, all with shock rods and riot gear that obscured their faces entirely. That was exactly what Jing had expected and apparently what the Collective had hoped for because they immediately began whimpering and begging for help.

Every single Drathanni snarled. Trrema bristled so dramatically that she appeared three times as large. Her toes curled, revealing stubby fingers on her forepaws that Jing wouldn't have expected on a four-legged species. But they did need some way to manipulate objects and one tail would be insufficient wouldn't it? He stepped back, straight into Iman's arms, unaware that he'd moved until Iman embraced him. Trrema's fury was so intimidating that it had been an instinctive move.

It stopped the station head and his guards, too. They skidded to a stop, panting and then the guards eased backwards as if they refused to get any closer to Trrema.

"We, we've come to arrest these people," the station head said, swallowing audibly. From the sound of it his mouth had gone entirely dry.

"They have been turned over to Drath jurisdiction," Trrema growled, the words nearly incomprehensible given her accent and the rumble of anger in her barrel chest.

"You're not needed," Rritia said, blithe and casual as he flipped his tail hand at the station head to shoo him away. "This isn't a human matter, not truly. It's a challenge to the Drath Empire and we will not stand for that. It's been a very long time since anyone challenged us. I imagine the Drath High Council will be very interested to hear about this… situation."

Iman's arms tightened convulsively around Jing's stomach. "High Council" was apparently something that they needed to worry about. So was the briefly visible but quickly hidden fury on the station head's face. He pasted a look of concern on before bowing very carefully towards Trrema and Rritia.

"We can offer our cells for their ah, holding," the station head said. "If ah, it's needed?"

"It isn't," Trrema snapped, actually snapped with teeth flashing and spittle flying, at the station head.

He flinched and a bloom of moisture appeared at the groin of his pants. Jing nearly did the same. Snapping heads off looked like a very real possibility, especially with Trrema. The station head backpedaled, bowed and then urgently waved his people away. Even the ones who'd waited at the dock backed away, looking frightened to be too close to the Drathanni.

Trrema snorted as she tugged something from a pouch that Jing hadn't noticed was there, hiding under the fur at the base of her burly neck. She touched it to the floor and the Collective jerked, eyes wide. Raven also jerked but she was the only one of Jing's bodyguards to have both knees and one hand on the deck.

"Raven?" Jing asked.

"Mngh…" Raven moaned.

She slowly slid down to the deck, breathing slow and steady but clearly unable to move.

"My apologies," Trrema said. "Should have warned your woman there. She'll be fine in a couple of hours. Your pack can let them up now. They won't be able to move either."

"Do it," Jing said. "Thank you very much for your help… Diplomat? Guard?"

"Just Rritia." Rritia laughed, his tail looping incredibly tightly. "You can't smell our proper ranks anyway and they don't translate into human languages very well. So names are sufficient. And our… tasks here have very little to do with either diplomacy or guarding. So yes. Names will do. I will need to speak in great detail with you about what has happened, Jing Althuis of the Ceelen. I will also have questions for you, Iman Hogarth of Space, Adventures and General Mischief Making. Oh, and I have several messages to pass onto you as well."

Jing turned to stare at Iman whose golden cheeks had gone flamingly red. He tried not to laugh as Iman nodded graciously. Motya didn't bother. She snickered as she helped Raven to sit up so that Trrema's people could grab the Collective and drag them away by their heels.

Messages from the Drathanni. And a title that sounded like Iman deciding to be humorous at the wrong point in time. This promised to be a very interesting discussion. Jing hoped that it would help them secure the Ceelen's safety. He also hoped that it would involve a great deal less fearing for his head being bitten off.

Somehow he doubted that he would get either.

14. Drath Laughter

There wasn't a single second where Iman could warn Jing what to say or not say. The Drath didn't leave Iman a moment. Which was both completely normal for the Drath and very, very nerve-wracking. At least with the adjustments of the nanites to Iman's moods he didn't spiral straight into a panic attack. There was an edge of panic to his thoughts as he followed the Drath into the Station to one of the conference rooms which had been stripped of all its normal furniture.

Instead of tables and chairs there were a dozen or so scattered Drath lounging pillows, a table-top devoid of legs which had been covered with bowls, mugs and several hundred disposable pads filled with information that Iman couldn't sort into a logical pattern even though he scanned the exposed ones as he waited for Rritia and then Trrema to choose their resting places. After which he nudged Jing into selecting one which Iman promptly settled on as well.

Sitting together sent a message and frankly? Iman needed the support of Jing's arm around his back and his warm chest to lean against.

He'd never expected to have his association with the diplomats on Rose Station to bear fruit. Yes, they'd certainly been amused by Iman. They'd enjoyed bantering with him and he had enjoyed it, too. But messages? Several of them? The thought boggled his mind and sent him scrambling back to his childhood where attention equaled punishment.

"Breathe," Jing murmured in Iman's ear as Rritia sorted several pads out of the stack on the table with his paws and tail, tossing one aside after a snort of amusement that made Trrema's ears go backwards. At least until she looked at the pad and then her tail looped in belly laughs, too.

Iman nodded because words now would lead to a flood that would embarrass them both. And possibly get them killed. He didn't want to die. He never did. But now that Jing was so attentive, so intent on a relationship with Iman, well. Death was even less of an option.

"Here we go," Rritia said, passing four pads over to Iman who blinked when he saw that all the pad held was those single messages. "What?"

"Ah, are you aware that these can be used for more than one thing?" Iman asked.

"Yes," Trrema said, her tail kinking even further. "It calms the station head down when he can give us things. So we keep asking for more pads. Ridiculous but the man reeks when he's frightened and he's frightened all the time around us. Odd that you two aren't."

Iman's stomach lurched at the sniff Trrema directed at them. He certainly felt afraid. Not, perhaps, as afraid as he would have been with a full-blown panic attack on him but definitely afraid. When Iman looked at Jing, he was so calm that Iman huffed at him.

Jing grinned. "I'm too curious to be that afraid. I've never spoken with your people before. My uncle and grandfather did but my cousin Nthanda and I were deemed too young for direct contact. So I'm rather at a loss and quite curious what I should know. As I know nothing it seems to be everything."

Which was as right a thing Jing could have said. Both Rritia and Trrema's jaw dropped open in broad smiles while Rritia nodded approvingly. Iman relaxed a tiny bit, just a bit, against Jing's side. The man truly was too intelligent for his own good. And for Iman's good, too. As much as he liked the idea of a relationship with Jing, Iman couldn't see it actually happening.

Old Earth had too much power for Iman to ever inflict them on Jing and the Ceelen.

At least Motya and her crew had agreed to wait outside of the conference room with the rest of the guards supplied by the station master. Iman rather thought that it was to keep those guards from doing anything inappropriate, like attempting an assassination, but it gave Iman much less to focus on and blessedly less to worry about.

Rritia nodded towards the pads. "You can take them with you if you wish. Or read and delete, I suppose. I do know that they'd like replies but I didn't bother giving them any assurance that they'd ever get those replies. None of us knew where to find you."

"Good," Iman said. He snorted at Jing's start of surprise. "Beloved man, just because you're especially talented at finding me doesn't mean that the rest of the universe shares that skill."

"I don't know that I am," Jing said, lips twitching with amusement as he hugged Iman with that one arm. "I thought it was that you were stalking me and always showing up where I intended to get work done."

Iman snorted. "Quite the opposite. You follow me, get yourself into trouble and then I have to save you. It's obvious."

He looked away from Jing's wrinkled, highly amused eyes only to laugh when he saw that both Rritia and Trrema were laughing as hard as a Drath could laugh: dropped jaws, ears loose and floppy, tails wound into corkscrews that had to hurt. Goodness, he usually didn't get that response so quickly. But then normally he didn't have Jing right there being his normal charmingly impossible self.

Jing saw it, too, cocking his head to the side. "That's laughter."

"That is the look of a Drath laughing so hard that their belly aches and they're crying," Iman said. "Well, if they were human, that's how they'd respond. Instead it's making their tails hurt and their ears go slack."

"I suppose I shouldn't say that it's cute?" Jing asked. He grinned when Trrema mock-snapped at him. She flopped on the cushion, shaking with her silent laughter. "Oh, no. Obviously shouldn't say that."

"Terrible person," Iman mock-scolded Jing even though he rather wanted to laugh, too. "You've broken them. Rulers of the Galaxy and you've broken them. Well, not these individuals in particular but in general."

"You're both horrible." Rritia snorted, shook himself and then breathed deeply for a moment. "And sadly, I must ruin the mood to ask difficult questions."

"I'll gladly answer anything that I can," Jing said. "Unfortunately I don't know terribly much. Just enough to know that both the Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju have been targeted for over a generation and a half, perhaps for two and a half generations, by people who want to destroy us."

That brought Iman up short just as much as it did Rritia and Trrema. Certainly Iman had known that the Ceelen and Hyun-Ju had been targeted for the last fifteen years or so. But for it to have gone on longer than meant that it was something that had started almost at the moment the Wave Drive was distributed to the far-flung colonies of Old Earth as well as Old Earth herself.

But the more Iman thought about it the more likely that seemed. He'd seen over his lifetime how the politicians in charge of Old Earth had become more violent and reactionary with time. When the Wave Drive and the Drath first arrived, they'd been greeted openly, welcomingly. Iman's mother had said as much and the records he'd found after escaping said so. But by the time Iman was born things had changed.

Old Earth's leaders had sensed their loss of control. They'd fought tooth and nail to keep it, battling on the planet and in the solar system to ensure that no one could possibly escape. That was how he'd ended up in prison as a child. His mother and grandmother had arranged for Iman to escape and then been killed protecting him when they were discovered. He'd been thrown in prison for his 'crimes' even though he'd been barely six years old when it happened.

He'd been one of dozens of children in prison when he first arrived. By the time he escaped he'd been one of tens of thousands torn from their families by the tyrannical government.

It was an unbearable situation that couldn't continue forever but Iman didn't see any way that he personally could change that. He'd certainly suggested that the Drath might investigate a bit more closely into Old Earth's activities, that they might want to check on the young and fragile of Old Earth, but he wouldn't risk himself by telling anyone outright where he came from.

Even telling Jing as much as he had made Iman's skin crawl.

"That would place it when we gifted the Wave Drive to humanity," Trrema said as she growled low in her chest.

"I believe so, yes," Jing said. "That was when people began to drive my grandfather from his family, and then later the same happened to my father and uncle. That was when the battles with the Hyun-Ju began as well. Our version of FTL wasn't as efficient or as safe as the Wave Drive but it was beginning to be stabilized among the various space faring families. The Ceelen and the Hyun-Ju had worked the closest together on it. Then within ten years of the Wave Drive's introduction we were at war with each other and all our close association was forgotten. The Collective certainly played a part in that. They appear to have been influencing the highest levels of the Ceelen since before I was born. We have evidence that they were sabotaging our efforts to have children."

That, predictably, made both Rritia and Trrema snarl. The right to bear children where and with whomever one wished was one of the most precious to the Drath, one that they fought for and over with the greatest viciousness. Iman shivered in Jing's embrace, wondering just how things between them would change if Jing was called upon to have children. He should. It would be best for the Ceelen if he did but Iman couldn't help but hate that thought.

"You two truly should just mate," Rritia said, snorting a little laugh as his tail curled. "You both smell of lust and love. It's thick in here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Iman said in a properly lofty tone even though he couldn't help but grin as Jing blushed and laughed silently. "Human noses can't detect that so it can't be real."

Which sent both Drath into belly laughs, if somewhat sardonic looking ones. Jing kissed Iman's cheek, prompting Iman to blush brilliantly. Damn the man for his dark cheeks hiding the blush that Iman could feel radiating off him. It barely showed that he was as red-faced as Iman.

"There a reason why you haven't given in?" Trrema asked Iman.

"Oh, so many reasons," Iman sighed, seriousness descending like a lead weight on his stomach. "Not the least of which is the huge number of assassins threatening to kill Jing and me for various, generally unnamed, reasons. Politics, in the form of Jing's family not trusting me. Politics in the form of my not wishing to inflict my past on Jing. Politics in the form of Jing being the heir to the Ceelen and needing to form a proper alliance rather than sleep around as he wills."

"That one I don't care about at all," Jing declared. He raised an eyebrow when Iman glared at him. "I don't. Nthanda has six children now, growing in baby chambers. He and Ru will be having more together. I don't have to have children unless and until I choose to and when I choose to it will be with someone I love, not with a politically chosen mate. That's all there is to that one. The others are quite valid, though. Sadly."

Iman sighed. There were so many other reasons but none of them needed to be explained. Not now, probably not ever. What did need to happen was getting the Drath to do something about the people attacking the Ceelen and Hyun-Ju. Rritia's tail uncurled as he pushed his amusement aside. His mood seemed to affect Trrema because she sat up, forepaws braced so that she was sitting as erect as any guard standing at parade rest.

"You believe it is related to Old Earth's efforts to control their people?" Rritia asked both Iman and Jing.

"I believe that it relates to their efforts to regain control of all their descendants," Jing corrected and then blinked at the way Iman stared at him. "Old Earth has stated that they believe that they have the right to determine what the various colonized worlds do. Many times. It's an object of ridicule, certainly, but I have no doubt that they believe it."

All Iman could do was nod his agreement with that. He knew for a fact that it was true, not just from his own experiences but also from the information he'd gathered since meeting Jing. That was part of what he'd tried to gain proof of before Jing had his near-miss appointment with assassination. Frankly, the surprise was that Jing, and presumably Nthanda, were aware of it.

So few people took Old Earth's leaders seriously.

"There isn't much we can do about that," Rritia said, slow and serious enough that Iman had to believe him even though the other Drath he'd interacted with had implied that the Drath could and would land in full power on Old Earth's leadership if things got worse. "Our leadership has decreed that they are Baseline and as such are recognized as the true form of humanity. They do have, in the Drath High Command's opinion, the power to control everyone else."

15. Power of the Drath

A shiver went up Jing's spine. That wasn't possible. Old Earth had the right to command everyone else? No. Not acceptable. Definitely not!

Iman seemed as horrified as Jing was, though less furious. His jaw dropped open as he stared at first Rritia and then Trrema who nodded calmly even though her tail was twitching like a cat who had spotted a favorite toy.

"That's not true!" Iman said. He turned to Jing. "It's not. They're not the baseline for humans, not anymore. The Ceelen and Hyun-Ju are far closer to baseline than they are."

"They are," Rritia said. He jerked backwards when Iman huffed at him.

"I'm telling you that they're not!" Iman all but shouted which made Trrema's lip curl threateningly. "Don't you curl that lip at me. I won't have that, not from you. I know perfectly well that you're a bodyguard and nothing more. Don't you dare try that on me. I allow it from Raven and Jing's other bodyguards but that's only because I love this headstrong, foolishly beautiful man. You don't get to do that to me."

"Easy," Jing said as he hugged Iman properly. "No need to yell at them."

"Of course there's a need to yell," Iman said, vibrating in Jing's arms. "They're being ridiculous. Old Earth systematically modified all their people four generations before the Wave Drive was gifted to humanity. They standardized people's coloration, heights and weights so that there 'wouldn't be discrimination anymore'. Your people are as close to baseline human as it's possible to get. All you did was give yourself a little bit of radiation resistance. For heaven's sake, you only just implemented full healing programs in your nanites! You look like you just stepped off the plains of Africa, unlike the people from Old Earth who all look alike, deliberately."

That rocked both Rritia and Trrema back on their haunches. They stared at Iman, then began sniffing in Jing's direction. Rather than let them continue it, Jing pulled one of the pads off the table and opened a new window. Pulling up an evolutionary table off the station's system was the work of an instant. It was a lovely one with pictures of the various evolutionary ancestors of humanity.

And there, right in the middle of the tree, was humanity's ancestor: a man as dark as Jing with the same long limbs and kinky-curled hair.

Iman took it and expanded the diagram into a hologram somehow, apparently interacting with the Drathanni's technology because Rritia's ears went flat against his skull in shock. Once he was done the diagram showed all the branches of humanity that had been discovered so far. There were certainly more than the three hundred or so worlds. Generation ships had expanded across their sector of the galaxy like dandelion seeds drifting on the wind for almost five thousand years before the Drath came. Nthanda had speculated, once when he and Jing were young and bored, that they would be finding 'lost colonies' for thirty or forty thousand more years.

"The first humans evolved in Africa," Iman explained. "They expanded outwards from there, in many waves, across the planet. Wherever they settled, they adapted. Skin colors changed. So did eye and nose shapes, relative body fat and the like."

"The Ceelen are the true baseline," Trrema whispered, fur poofed out. "The historic baseline."

"Not because of skin color," Iman said and then glowered when Jing cleared his throat. "Beloved, please resist your attempts to be a nyargle. Truly. I'm explaining things."

"Very well," Jing said, laughing quietly as he hugged Iman and made him blush.

It was a lovely color on Iman's golden cheeks. Which seemed to be even more golden than before though that could be the effect of the lights in the room. Good to see if it wasn't the lighting. It had to mean that Iman's nanites were settling his genetic changes so that he wouldn't have as many problems anymore.

"Humanity altered ourselves genetically," Iman continued, huffing at Jing but smiling too. "The Ceelen and Hyun-Ju did very minimal changes, only increasing their bodies' ability to resist radiation damage. A minor change to the RNA's accuracy in making repairs. Other worlds implemented huge changes such as adding scaled armor or, like the Gensyn, becoming a synthesis of genders. The important thing is that Old Earth, before the Drath arrived, altered every single person on the planet. They rewrote everyone's genetics to impose a single universal look. The same skin color, same hair color and texture, same eye shape, elimination of wisdom teeth and enforcement of specific weight and height requirements. It isn't natural that all humans from Old Earth look the same. It's manufactured. Any child who doesn't meet the standards is summarily altered so that they will fit in. They can only claim to living on our home world, not being 'baseline'."

Both Rritia and Trrema stared at Iman and then at Jing who could only nod. It was truth. Every human knew it. Frankly, Jing had always found interacting with people from Old Earth mildly unnerving because of their extreme similarity to each other. They tended to talk and walk and hold themselves the same, as if they had a group mind instead of individual brains. It seemed to take years for people who had escaped from Old Earth to shake those ingrained habits of sameness. Some never did.

Trrema snorted and shuddered, shaking herself so hard that fur flew around her. Rritia yawned, grimaced, and then caught his tail-hand in his forepaws as if attempting to keep it from trembling. Which it was. Quite badly.

"We don't have the authority to deal with this," Rritia admitted after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Then don't," Jing said. He grunted at Iman's elbow to his belly. "Send a message to your, ah, High Command?" He kissed Iman's cheek for the nod of confirmation and then grinned at his huff of annoyance. "Send a message to the High Command and let them decide how to handle it. We only wanted you to take control of the Collective. You're not likely to be targeted the same way that we were."

"And what will you do?" Rritia asked, head cocked to the side.

Jing breathed in, out, and then caressed Iman's hip just because he could. He might not be able to once this was all dealt with but he could now.

"We… need to talk to someone," Jing said. He smiled at Iman's blink of shock. "You had a meeting, Love. It's rude to cancel that way. I'm sure we can rearrange the meeting and finish the deal you were working towards."

Iman stared at him, mouth open in such blatant shock that Jing's heart fluttered a bit. Really, the man shouldn't be allowed to be so attractive, especially when they were in company. His hands clenched on Jing's as Iman trembled and then bit his lip.

"Might actually say yes now," Trrema commented. She snorted and laughed silently when Iman's head snapped around in a glare at her. "Or not."

"You could just stay silent," Jing commented with his best attempt at mock-annoyed. It came out quite amused instead. "I don't need your help."

"I'm ignoring both of you," Iman declared. "Entirely. Because it has nothing whatsoever to do with the conversation at hand. Rritia. The Collective may or may not be working for Old Earth. I don't know yet. I had a meeting that should have given me information to confirm it once and for all. Unfortunately, Jing had a small assassin issue that resulted in some explosions and the need to flee rather quickly so it didn't happen."

Rritia nodded, tail curling slowly even though he kept his face and ears remarkably attentive and alert.

"Either way, the Collective has attempted to destroy the Ceelen," Iman continued while Jing nodded his confirmation. "We formally request that the Drath High Command look into their efforts to destroy at least one, perhaps more, lines which received the direct gift of the Wave Drive. Anything which you can find out about Old Earth's efforts to control all the colonies would be appreciated, especially if they're related. But the immediate enemy is the Collective."

"That I can do," Rritia said. He glanced at Jing, ears sliding backwards for a moment before he forced them back to a quivering upright position. "And I will report your information on human baselines. We'd assumed that the similarity was the result of a genetic bottleneck after the generation ships left Old Earth."

"Not at all," Jing said. "There's no genetic bottleneck there."

Rritia sighed, sagging a little. "We will take care of this matter. I suggest that the two of you have your meeting and then do some mating. The scent of lust is rather thick around the two of you."

Jing choked while Iman huffed and then whined when Trrema nodded sagely. Three minutes later they were out the door with Iman's messages clutched to his chest. Five after that and they were back on the flyer where Raven had yet to return to herself. She lay on her bunk, moaning quietly. Every few seconds she would try to move, to lift her hand or wiggle her foot. Jing patted her shoulder when Raven's whine became a frustrated growl.

Whatever Trrema's weapon had done, it was remarkably effective in taking down kneeling entities. Or, perhaps more accurately, entities with three or more limbs touching the floor which was probably what it was designed for. That would be correct for Drath.

"Just rest," Jing told Raven. "I need to check the ship and then Iman and I will be meeting with Strohkirch. We won't go without you, I swear. You have time to recuperate."

Her eyelids fluttered but apparently opening them was beyond Raven's control at the moment. Jing sympathized with her miserable expression, gesturing for Motya to stay with her. Being completely helpless was one of the more horrifying experiences there were.

It did mean that Jing and Iman had as much time as they wanted for checking out the damage to the flyer. And damage there was. Nothing was insurmountable though nearly every system had pieces shaken loose and broken connections. It was a credit to Iman's ability to control the ship that they hadn't been blown up on emergence from the Wave.

Thankfully, those same abilities allowed Iman to quickly and efficiently identify what was wrong with the flyer so that they could fix it. Jing paused as they worked to repair a stabilizer together, staring at Iman. Who stared back, one eyebrow raised towards the grease smudge that adorned his forehead. A forehead that was decidedly more towards the brown than the golden now. The color suited him nicely. His eyes were less changeable and more a hazel-green. Jing rather liked it.

"What?" Iman asked.

"Why didn't you do this on the Graceful Swan?" Jing asked. "Directly interface with the systems?"

"Because I was locked out and didn't wish to alienate anyone when I had no way to escape, of course," Iman replied, snorting a little laugh. "Darling man, do think things through. I do not ever risk punishment if I can possibly help it. There was no way that I would offend Nthanda, Ru, Bala, or, most importantly, Raven, by hacking their systems. Your flyer? Nonsense. It saved our lives. I'm quite fond of living. I rather want to continue doing it for a very long time."

Jing grinned. "I'm rather fond of watching you live. I want you to continue for a long time, too. So what should we expect from Strohkirch? He's Altered, yes?"

"Oh goodness, yes," Iman said as he went back to work, lovely agile brown fingers deftly working the stabilizer back into position and hooking it back up. "He's from Grazzt so he's a 'dragon'. Quite lovely, really, all iridescent scales on a background of green and purple. Very long claws, fangs that curl past his lips. Oh, and he's quite venomous. Do be careful not to offend him as he can spray the venom over thirty feet if he's infuriated."

"…I'll remember that," Jing said, more than a little horrified. "And he has information we need?"

"Very much so," Iman agree. He sighed, straightening up and wiping his hands on a rag before stretching. His back popped audibly. "Goodness, my whole body feels odd."

"The new nanite programming, probably," Jing said. "Your skin's a lovely shade of brown now. I quite like it."

Iman stared at him, mouth open. A moment later he dashed across the room to the little wash station with its sink, emergency shower and tiny mirror. Jing followed, laughing quietly at the way Iman stared at himself, tugging at his ears, examining his lips and then carefully parting his hair as if he would have grown new colors in the last few hours.

After a bit Iman stopped and just stared at himself as if he was memorizing his own face. One hand rose to run over his sharp cheekbone, to trail across the tip of Iman's pointed nose and then drop down to his full bottom lip.

"My eyes are green," Iman whispered.

"Mm-hmm, and quite beautiful, too," Jing agreed.

"You think so?" Iman asked, not meeting Jing's eyes at all. He was too busy staring at himself.

"I do. You're gorgeous. You always were but I rather like the mellowness of this skin tone over the brassiness of the copper tone you had before. There's a warmth to your skin now rather than a sort of yellow-green undertone."

"You're blue," Iman murmured, finally turning to stare at Jing with those beautiful, stunned, green eyes. "Your hair, your skin, you have blue undertones. I always wondered if you wore jewel tones to complement that."

Jing shrugged. "They look good, that's all. I never paid much attention to it. Do you like it? I'm sure Doctor Esme could adjust the color if you wanted something less dramatic."

Jing jerked back as Iman started laughing, hollow and broken with tears suddenly blooming in his eyes. Iman's eyes screwed shut and the shaking started. Damn. So apparently there were still things that would set off panic attacks.

Rather than let Iman suffer, Jing pulled him into his arms and cradled him until the tears, the shaking, the hysterical laughter faded. There wasn't much that Jing could do other than comfort Iman, much as he wished he could. Nanites couldn't change memories. And trauma remained trauma no matter how much care a person got, not that Iman had gotten much care at all until today.

A thing for Jing to make up to him in the future, certainly. He should have seen that Iman needed help. Jing liked to think that he was a caring person despite his general lack of outwards displays of emotion. But a truly caring person would have seen through Iman's façade of total confidence and complete control rather than having been captured by it.

"Sorry," Iman whispered twenty minutes later when he sagged in Jing's arms.

"Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for, Love," Jing said. "Come on. Let's get some rest. Then food and we'll set up your meeting with Strohkirch. Maybe by the end of the day we'll have an idea of just who is behind all of this."

16. Strohkirch's Secrets

Strohkirch's lair, such as it was, stank to high heaven. The musty stink of rot mingled with the smell of mold and dampness. It had never bothered Iman before, visiting Strohkirch. He'd actually rather enjoyed all the masses of greenery that Strohkirch kept around the entrance to his lair. It was rather like a jungle, if a rather abbreviated one.

Because Strohkirch had set up his home close to the rotational center of the station which meant that it was very nearly without gravity. The world his people had settled on, Grazzt, was a very light gravity world, light enough that Strohkirch's people had altered themselves to be able to deal with everything from zero G all the way up to 3G without any issues. Iman still wasn't sure why they'd decided to retain their mass and strength but then he'd never been to Grazzt because it was supposed to be a terrifically dangerous place.

Which, frankly, probably answered his idle questions.

Either way, the smell was horrific today. Jing and Motya both looked rather nauseated. Raven didn't look affected at all though she did curl a lip when her boot slipped ever so slightly on the slime-covered decking.

"This is where he lives?" Jing asked.

"Oh no," Iman said, gesturing towards the dimly lit interior of Strohkirch's lair, "that's where he lives. This is just the entrance for lowly people seeking his wisdom and power."

Jing's eyes wrinkled minutely though his face didn't change otherwise. At least until Iman grinned at him and then Jing chuckled quietly. Still so very odd to realize that Jing truly did want him. Iman would have to consider proposing that they spend a very energetic and sweaty night together in bed. The results would likely be quite satisfactory.

Later, of course. There were more important things to consider, both his long-delayed trade for the baubles and the information that Strohkirch may or may not have for them. Iman gingerly pressed the comm button mounted on the wall by the entrance. Three seconds later someone roared inside the lair. A second roar, short and barked followed, with a long questioning warble at the end.

"Strohkirch!" Iman bellowed back, rocking everyone including Raven back on their heels. "I need to talk to you! Four people total!"

A series of short barking laughs echoed to them, followed by two short roars. Iman smiled.

"We're allowed in," Iman said. "Do follow closely and attempt to remain on the path. The gravity decreased the further in we go so you will have some difficulty with that."

Iman didn't wait for questions about that. He had none. Instead he carefully made his way into Strohkirch's lair, staying very firmly on the dimly lit but nicely wide path. Took rather more concentration that Iman wanted as his feet didn't want to stay connected to the path and he felt constantly as though he'd drift away if he stepped just a hair too hard but that was microgravity. It didn't help that the path was a bit slimy, not surprising given that the further they went the wetter the environment got, but it wasn't so bad as to be impossible.

Strohkirch would have considered that inhospitable.

Really.

The heart of the lair was a globular ball of water the size of eight or so of Jing's flyers carefully maintained in microgravity with careful efforts of pumps, jets, fans and the surface tension of the water itself. Iman studied the ball with its drifting clumps of seaweed, schools of fish and pockets of phosphorescent algae. It was holding together far better than it had been before he'd worked on the system. Good to see that his modifications had helped.

Jing came to stand next to Iman, one hand resting tentatively on Iman's back. When Iman glanced at him there was only wonder in Jing's eyes. Not even a wrinkled nose for the abnormal stench of the place. Really, he should mention it to Strohkirch and ask if there were problems. That might gain them a bit of assistance beyond the minimum.

"He lives here?" Jing murmured.

"Oh yes," Iman replied. He smiled, waved a hand at the bubble of water. "Strohkirch prefers watery environments so of course he crafted one here. He actually farms a huge amount of the protein grown on the station. It's where he earns the significant portion of his wealth."

"A crime lord who's a farmer," Jing said, shaking his head in obvious amazement. "I wouldn't have imagined it."

"You chose a mate."

The rumble echoed out of the bubble of water like the song of one of the long-extinct whales on Old Earth. Jing started badly while Iman huffed and put his hands on his hips. He couldn't see where exactly Strohkirch was but that hardly mattered. Strohkirch could obviously see them clearly.

"I most certainly have not," Iman snapped.

"Yet," Jing countered and then grinned when Iman glared at him. "I'm still working at it."

Iman rolled his eyes. Impossible man. It really was terrible that he was damned attractive. Did awful things to Iman's ability to concentrate.

Something large swooped through the bubble, scattering the schools of fish. Iman stayed where he was but Jing stepped back as Strohkirch erupted from the bubble and settled gracefully onto the path. The scattered bubbles of water floated back into the ball, propelled by automatic jets of air while Strohkirch walked closer as if he was in full gravity. Such skill with microgravity. It made Iman rather jealous though he'd certainly never alter his feet to have claws to cling with that way.

"I didn't realize when you said he was a dragon that you were being literal," Jing whispered.

Strohkirch laughed. It was a low rumble like a flyer revving its engines. Even in the dim light of the lair, Strohkirch gleamed as iridescent as a peacock's tail. His scales were as fine as freckles over his face, as big as Iman's thumb over the majority of his chest, arms and legs. On his back, he had scales that looked rather like spines. Iman had never confirmed whether or not they were venomous but he suspected that they must be. A 'mane' of longer quills cascaded over his scalp and down his neck while Strohkirch's fangs had grown long enough to extend past his chin.

He never bothered with clothing. Strohkirch personally and most of his people as a race felt that clothing was ridiculous. So his entire body was on view other than a water-tight pouch wrapped around his right arm, a spear gun draped over his back and a belt with many tiny pouches, certainly all water tight, around his waist. There was no penis to be seen as Strohkirch's people had modified themselves to have internal testicles and an armored penis pouch.

"You look good," Iman said, nodding his approval. "The modifications to the water systems did well, I take it?"

"They did," Strohkirch agreed. He sniffed at Iman, dripping slightly but not excessively over Iman's shoes. "You've improved as well. Not so fragile. Recent. Smells like you finally found a good doctor to work on you."

"I believe so," Iman said as his cheeks went red. "We'll see how it goes over time. I'd be more than grateful to stop spending my money on hacks."

Strohkirch rumbled a laugh. He looked at Jing who stiffened, Raven who snarled and Motya who licked her lips as though she was more than slightly interested in taking a very naked swim with Strohkirch. Tempting to be sure but not a safe or healthy idea for a baseline woman. Iman knew the shape and size of Strohkirch's penis and it most definitely wasn't compatible with someone like Motya.

"These?" Strohkirch asked, jerking his chin at Jing and the others.

"Ah, well," Iman said, considering how to explain it. "Jing Althuis of the Ceelen, of course. He's… hmm. He has some issues he needs assistance with."

"He wants to fuck you until you scream," Strohkirch said. He grinned at Iman's glare.

"His bodyguards Raven--"

"Thinks you need to die painfully," Strohkirch commented, lip curling up to snarl at Raven who snarled right back just as the impossibly vicious woman she was.

"--and Motya," Iman finished as if Strohkirch hadn't interrupted.

"Cute but clueless, competent though," Strohkirch finished.

"She's never seen your penis," Iman agreed. "You are quite attractive until that comes out of the pouch."

Which, predictably, made Motya frown and Strohkirch roar a laugh that sent all the schools of fish fleeing to the far side of the bubble of water. Truly, most of the people from Grazzt were equipped with penises that were average, quite human if you made allowances for the different coloration. Strohkirch, not so much. Between the scales that would lock him inside of a compatible partner and the forking tip, he wasn't at all suitable for Motya even leaving out the issue of his quills and potentially venomous spikes on his back.

"Darn," Motya said, bottom lip pouting out.

"Ah, not clueless, just too hopeful," Strohkirch said. He laughed again at Raven's glower in Motya's direction and then gestured, droplets flying from the tips of his fingers, for them to follow him.

The sitting area he used as a conference room was little more than gently rounded rocks, thankfully minus the moss and slime, set in a circle in the midst of a grouping of huge sword ferns. Iman took his place directly opposite Strohkirch and then prompted Jing into sitting next to him. Both Raven and Motya chose to stand. Thankfully, at least for Iman's poor scorched coat, Raven took Jing's left shoulder as her post rather than looming behind him.

Strohkirch sprawled, sitting on the ground and leaning against the rock. That put his head approximately at eye height when he slouched a tad. Quite polite of him. Iman blinked when Strohkirch produced the baubles he'd been negotiating for from the wrist pouch.

"I heard of your arrival on the station," Strohkirch explained as he passed them over to Iman to examine. "Nice Wave."

"Thank you," Jing said, smirking at Iman's frown. "I flew. You landed, Love."

"We wouldn't have survived if we'd had to depend on your landing," Iman grumbled but his cheeks were warm and he couldn't help but smile as he studied the little data baubles.

Tiny, like jeweled broaches, they could hold enough data to download the entire library of Old Earth in a few moments if only Iman could get access to it. He'd wanted a couple of them for years to make it easier for him to do his work while on the run but he'd never been able to get them at a reasonable price. Fixing Strohkirch's water systems had been part of the deal to get them.

"What other work do you need done?" Iman asked.

Strohkirch blinked at him, cocked his head to the side and then waved one clawed hand idly. "None. It all works perfectly."

"But the smell…" Iman started to protest only to stop and turn to stare at Jing.

Who only shook his head and raised an eyebrow in question. The smell wasn't horrific. Motya shrugged, too. Even Raven looked like Iman was quite crazy when he dared a glance into her eyes.

So. The nanites were fixing far more than he'd thought.

"We should have clarified exactly what Doctor Keen was going to fix, my beloved gammerstang." Iman sighed as he rubbed his nose. "I believe the nanites have fixed my sense of smell. How horrifying. It was rather nice not smelling all the terrible things that make other people ill."

Both Jing and Strohkirch stared at him. They started laughing at the same time, Strohkirch with a bellow of delight which opened his triple-jointed jaw so wide that he could have bitten the top off of Iman's head with ease. That startled Raven's hand towards her blaster and Motya to step forward as if she would pull them off their rocky stools. Jing pulled Iman into a hug, kissing his cheek while chortling.

"She did say that we should check back in, Love," Jing said. He grinned, displaying those molars for far longer than Iman had any right to expect. "At least you know they're working."

"I suppose so," Iman said. "So no more work?"

"None," Strohkirch said. His eyes gleamed. So did those wickedly long fangs. "More questions?"

"Just the same one," Iman said. "Though now it's more a matter of confirmation than of investigation. The Collective rather opened things up with their attack."

Strohkirch hummed, low and rumbling. It sounded almost like a purr. A very deep, very scary purr from a very, very dangerous creature. A dragon, in fact. His eyes glittered again as he studied Iman. The sniff was completely expected. Strohkirch had commented once that while his eyesight was perfectly adequate out of the water his sense of smell was the true method he used to interpret the world.

"I can only give you one thing," Strohkirch said after a few moments of quiet study. "The enemy of the Ceelen is not Old Earth at all. They are being manipulated much the same way that the Ceelen are. More effectively, I believe."

17. Secrets Within Secrets

Jing stiffened.

The information Iman had been seeking was who was targeting the Ceelen? Not information he could use or sell to the highest bidder? That… Jing stared at Iman who barely even seemed to notice Jing's eyes on him. Iman's face was pale, his hands clenched tight in his lap, so tight that the knuckles were bleached.

Jing swallowed down the need to demand answers that he suspected he already knew. Iman had not recently fallen for Jing. This was something that he must have been working on for quite some time. Just becoming familiar enough with the crime-lord Strohkirch to be allowed in here, to be able to bring other people with him, that took time and the establishment of trust. And to be trusted enough to fix Strohkirch's environmental controls?

They knew each other very, very well.

"He has asked this information for you, Althuis," Strohkirch confirmed when Jing looked at him. "Not your family, not the rest of the lines. You. Heart sick and moon-eyed over you from the moment I met him. Too stubborn to say it, of course."

"Well, it's not as though I can actually do anything about it!" Iman snapped, now red and glowering at Strohkirch who didn't seem to give a damn. "You know perfectly well what will happen if I'm caught."

"Won't recognize you now," Strohkirch said. He flipped the knife-like claws tipping his fingers in a gesture that looked gently dismissive but which could have probably disemboweled Jing had he been in the wrong place. "Too different."

Iman rolled his eyes only to frown when Jing caught his arm in a grip that was certainly too tight. They'd had the nanites stabilize Iman's genetics. As they were currently. Which meant that instead of having his RNA continuously working to return him to his birth genetics, he was effectively being altered to be something new. Awkwardly, certainly, but it might have worked well enough to keep Iman safe.

"You can smell the difference in his genetics?" Jing asked slowly enough that Iman's frown intensified only to fade into pale-faced shock.

"Of course," Strohkirch said. "My people can smell to the parts per trillion. We designed ourselves that way. He's stable, getting more stable by the moment. A genetic test now would show that he's… not who he used to be. Currently he smells like a mix of Hyun-Ju, Ceelen and a bit of Tasma Wanderer. Certain to the eight-seventh percentage and rising that he'd… not be identified as of his original home world. In twenty-four hours or so he'll be at the ninety-ninth plus. They couldn't tell who he was now."

"Free?" Iman whispered.

He started shaking, no surprise to Jing who pulled Iman into his arms. If Jing had suddenly been given his childhood dream of being free to travel where he wanted with none of the responsibilities of the Ceelen he'd have shaken too. Not that he wanted that anymore. No, Jing wanted the power of the Ceelen.

Not for himself but for Iman who curled into Jing's arms and trembled his way through another panic attack. It seemed like a lesser one, shaking and sweating but not at the level of intensity of the ones that had knocked him so flat over the last couple of days.

"Pity he still gets those," Strohkirch grumbled. "Wanted that information for you alone, Althuis."

"So I gathered," Jing said, rubbing Iman's back. "Which, one hopes, explains some of his eccentricities, Raven."

When he glanced over his shoulder at Raven, she was wide eyed and pale, mouth open as if she couldn't believe it. Perhaps she didn't. Raven had never been particularly good at believing things which contradicted her assumptions. That had been his one objection to appointing her head of his bodyguards. Otherwise she was as perfect as she could be.

"Do you know who is behind it?" Jing asked Strohkirch. "Even in a vague way?"

"You expect me to just give you the knowledge?" Strohkirch asked with a sneer that exposed so much fang that it would be threatening if only Jing couldn't see just how lazily the man held himself. No tenseness, no shift of position. No threat other than the exposed fang.

"Of course not," Jing replied. "It's enough for me to know if you have an idea or not. Everything else can be negotiated. And, frankly, I'm sure Iman will begin working on finding out who it really is no matter what I want or say."

Strohkirch roared a laugh, one hand casually thumping the rock closest to him and chipping off a fragment as big as Jing's fist.

That was terrifying. He'd never imagined that someone could open their mouth that wide or that their jaw could gape open that far. Strohkirch seemed completely alien when he laughed, far more terrifying and dangerous than the Drathanni. The human body underneath that distorted head made it all the worse.

"Good, you do feel fear," Strohkirch hummed. The ferns behind his head shivered with the rumble of his hum. So did Jing. "No, I don't know. Won't investigate, either. They're not my enemies, Jing Althuis, horny little lordling. They're yours. Take him. Let him rest. And feed him. His body needs more food and water to finish the change."

That appeared to be the end of the meeting. Strohkirch rolled to his feet and strode back to his giant ball of water, completely unconcerned about exposing his back to Raven and Motya's hastily drawn blasters. Jing watched him dive into the water, one eyebrow going up as gills fared open on Strohkirch's ribs. That explained how he breathed in there. And the jaw explained how he ate, one whole fish at a time.

"Let's go, Love," Jing murmured to Iman. "I'd feel better out of this place."

It took a moment for Iman to nod but he did eventually. Getting back to the flyer too rather longer than Jing would have liked but they made it without any unfortunate confrontations or explosions. Something of a record for the two of them. Jing snorted, amused, once the flyer doors sealed behind them.

"What?" Iman asked in something very close to his normal tone of voice even though he was still shaking and too pale.

"I think that's the first time we've calmly walked through a station without a single assassination attempt, explosion or blaster battle breaking out," Jing said.

Iman, as well as Raven and Motya turned to stare at the door of the flyer. After a moment Motya started snickering. Raven punched her in the arm and then raised her fist as if trying to smother her own laughter. Which, predictably, made Iman glower at the both of them.

"Maybe he did accept after all," Motya mock-murmured to Raven. "If the explosions are their way of courting?"

"Stop it!" Raven snapped but she was laughing too hard for it to be convincing.

Jing rolled his eyes at both of them. He supposed they deserved it after all the stress, fear and danger of the last few days but they were both ridiculous. When Jing threw up his hands it made both of them laugh harder.

And it made Iman shake his head while smiling shyly. He led the way to the control center, flopping dramatically into the copilot seat. Jing settled more calmly into the pilot's. Iman's color was better than Jing would have expected, not too pale, and he didn't look quite as exhausted as he had before when he'd had a panic attack.

"Do you think the nanites are learning how to tone down the panic attacks?" Jing asked.

"No," Iman said with the saddest, grimmest smile that Jing had seen out of him. "But I know how to control the attacks to a degree. The nanites do help reduce the effect somewhat. Free. I never thought that I would be, you know."

"We can confirm it," Jing offered. "I know that Doctor Esme would be glad to do whatever analysis you wanted."

"No," Iman repeated, this time with a much more gentle smile. "I trust Strohkirch. If he says that I'm free, then I'm free. Frankly, I'm not sure what to do next. Certainly, I'll want to discover who's targeting the Ceelen but that's… hmm. I'm not sure where to look next."

"Bala?" Jing suggested, more because he couldn't see any other options than because he thought she was the correct choice.

"As if Bala would work with me," Iman groaned. He slouched even further down in his seat, his coat bunching up over his shoulders. "She's convinced I'm nothing more than a cheat and a munz-watcher, sneaking about to discover things about her loves so that she'll pay me money to shut up."

Jing blinked several times. There was definitely some history there. He wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to delve into it. Especially with Bala being half-sister to Ru, Nthanda would favor her over Iman. And that would just drive more wedges between the two of them.

Of course, if Iman was unsure of what he wanted to do, frankly, Jing was worse. There were still the same threats against the Ceelen, plus the damage to the engines of the Graceful Swan, the possibility of new attacks against the Graceful Swan. The Collective would almost certainly attempt to attack them somehow even with the Drathanni poking their furry noses into the problem. Jing had no doubt that the Collective would, rightfully, blame both Iman and him for the loss of their sisters.

"What's that term?" Jing mused as he stared at the dark, silent controls of the flyer.

"For what, beloved?" Iman asked. His eyes were shut, his brow furrowed, but he seemed quite aware and alert. Just thinking hard as he tapped his fingers against his seats armrests.

"A novice," Jing said. He grinned when one of Iman's eyes opened. "Because that's how I feel. Like a novice with no clue of what needs to be done when or how or by whom."

"Johnny-raw," Iman answered, his eye drifting back shut. He smirked. "And yes, that's about where we are. I have no idea how to cope if we don't have assassins and explosions filling our time. Though at least with my little baubles I'll be able to work wherever I find myself."

Which explained what they were. Jing nodded. He turned to look back towards the hallway to the rest of the flyer. They should return to the Graceful Swan. They should call Nthanda and explain what had happened, not that Jing was at all certain that any communication channels they had available were sufficiently secure for such important discussions. They almost certainly weren't.

Instead he thought about Tasma Orbital Station 19's restaurants and casinos, the bookstores and curio shops that filled the broad concourses and many levels. They could spend some time. Search out information. Ask inappropriate questions in dangerous places and then run for their lives together.

He found himself chuckling as he rolled his head to study Iman. Both of Iman's eyes were open now, open and quite aware that something massively inappropriate was going through Jing's mind.

"What are you pondering, beloved?" Iman asked so warningly that Jing laughed out loud. "Oh, now I know it cannot possibly be good. Tell."

"I was thinking that we really should head back to the Graceful Swan," Jing explained. He waved his hand towards the controls that were just waiting to be turned on, called into use once more. "But I find myself very reluctant to do so for some reason. So. I remembered that Strohkirch said that you needed to eat and drink. And well, the station is known for its excellent restaurants. I know a very lovely one just outside one of the casinos on the station. Such good food. And there's a very nice bookstore close to it, plus some lovely weapon and curio shops. I thought we might go indulge ourselves a bit."

Iman grinned at him. Sat up and then forward so that their lips were very nearly touching. The moist heat of his breath made Jing shiver.

"And perhaps… ask questions while we were about?" Iman suggested.

"Oh, certainly," Jing agreed. He licked his lips and nearly licked Iman's as well. They were that close. "You know how I am, Love. I have this habit. Questions must be asked. Preferably where other people can hear them. Sad that they seem to object to that with bombs and blasters but it is a habit, you know. Very hard to break a well-established habit."

Iman started laughing. He sat up again, grinning down into Jing's eyes. "Your ideas of flirting leave much to be desired, beloved."

Jing shrugged. "Do you have something better to do at the moment?"

When Iman stood, Jing did as well. It took a moment before Iman offered his hand to Jing. Despite the panic attack earlier, Iman's grip was strong. Certain. More than a little bit affectionate though that could be wishful thinking on Iman's part.

"I am a bit peckish," Iman said. The mischief in his eyes made Jing's heart speed up. "I suppose I could eat."

Jing pressed a kiss to Iman's knuckles and then bowed, gesturing for Iman to precede him. "Then by all means, Love. Let's go have some fun before we head home."

18. Begin Again

The concourse was quiet. Unusually quiet. Too quiet.

Even at this time of night, nearing midnight by the station's clock, the hanging bridge over the hydroponics garden was usually busy. It was a lovely spot with wide open spaces, beautiful views of the display garden below and the smell of growing things so lacking in the rest of the station. Iman hadn't noticed the smell before, his nose never had worked that well due to a childhood broken nose, but now it was intoxicating enough that he understood the attraction to the place.

Despite that, virtually no one was there.

There was a small group of technicians working on a light close to the emergency blast doors. Another group of teenage tourists, all girls with wild violet, orange and purple hair, peering over the rail towards the hydroponic gardens below. And a final group of rather grim looking men with poorly concealed blast armor guarded the far emergency blast door.

All the techs were women, forty-five to fifty years old, blond hair, coppery skin. All the girls were sixteen to eighteen with coppery skin of the exact same shade.

"Collective?" Jing murmured as he took Iman's hand and lifted it so that he could press a kiss on Iman's knuckles.

"Oh certainly," Iman agreed. He blushed but also grinned at the sly look that Jing gave him. "I think Raven may blow my head off soon."

"I might," Raven complained in a properly low voice from behind Jing. "Those are assassins by the other door."

"Mm-hmm," Iman agreed. He grinned as both Raven and Motya rolled their eyes and glared at the two of them.

Dinner had been quite delightful. Jing's chosen restaurant truly did serve the best cocktails around Tasma, short of that one little hole in the wall bar on Station 09 that had the pineapple and mango concoction. Delicious that, if designed to render one unconscious in minutes. They'd had stuffed pizza with every sort of meat and vegetable available, all drenched in a wonderful white sauce. Motya had moaned and shifted position as if unbearably turned on every time Jing or Iman took a bite of the pizza. And had had half a dozen surreptitiously sent back to the flyer so that all the bodyguards could indulge once this lovely little dinner date was over.

Dessert had been tiny little dark chocolate mousse cups dusted with white chocolate and bits of finely chopped pistachios. That had been sinful enough that Jing had stared, spoon drooping in his fingers, while Iman ate and all the bodyguards refused to look at the two of them. So had the waitress who'd walked away fanning herself when she collected their empty cups.

Then they'd shopped at the book store, which had real paper books plus some truly amazing digital books that Iman had been more than happy to spend Jing's money on. The curio shop had a delightful little interface for his new baubles. It was broken but ten minutes in a machine shop, available on the Graceful Swan, would fix that. And all of them, Jing included, had spent a huge amount of money in the weapon shop next door.

Buying knives, blasters, needlers. Raven had taken a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher that Iman knew was supposed to sold nonfunctional. Between the two of them it had taken thirty seconds to remove the locks on it. Beautiful little shop. The owner had been overjoyed by their purchases at first and then gone pale and shaky as they bought more and more. Whimpers had started up when they'd cleared out his ammunition entirely. He'd shut the shop up and brought down the blast doors once they left, activating highly illegal force shields that had to be independent of the station's power system.

Which led to the four of them slowly promenading along the concourse and waiting for their various assassins to decide who got to take the first attempt. There did seem to be some sort of precedent to sort out. Every time the assassins in their blast armor moved a hand towards their weapons the two groups of the Collective turned and glared at them. But in the same way the assassins looked infuriated whenever the Collective looked like they were about to take a turn.

"This is driving me insane," Motya murmured. "They've been hovering for an hour now. What are they waiting for?"

"I suspect that they're waiting to hear that the Drathanni went to bed," Jing replied, in his normal voice, with a brilliant grin for the younger members of the Collective who turned acid glares on him. "Well, it does seem to be the most logical reason for the lack of fighting."

"True, true," Iman agreed and tried not to laugh at how his voice carried in the far too quiet concourse. Practically designed to make things echo. "They're quite ruining our date, beloved. How can we possibly have a proper evening if no one tries to murder us, kidnap us or blow someone up?"

Jing nodded sadly but his eyes were wrinkled and his grin grew until Iman could see his back teeth. Oh. Such a lovely smile! So wild and…

There. That was what they'd been waiting for.

All three groups whirled and drew their weapons. At first they pointed at Jing and Iman but then they started shouting at each other. Surprisingly, the younger group of the Collective snarled and aimed at the older group while they pointed at the assassins. Odd. Perhaps they weren't as united as Iman had thought. The assassins in the meantime had apparently decided that the young group was more dangerous than the older, a stupid decision given the tools that the older group held and the open control panel by their sides.

"Get down!" Raven bellowed.

She whirled the rocket launcher up onto her shoulder as Jing caught Iman's wrist and pulled him close. Jing's shields flashed into place around them. Mildly inconvenient but not too troublesome. He could still reach out into the station's systems to send a quick message to Trrema that there was a nice little battle brewing on the concourse. He got an immediate response from her that they were on their way, accompanied by a lightning fast image of her entire pack howling with delight.

Raven's rocket launcher worked perfectly, sending a grenade towards the other end of the concourse. The assassins shouted and hid behind their blast shields but the grenade, one that Iman had altered out of a riot suppression round and a sabot made of rags, exploded into a rapidly growing ball of foam that flowed right through the shields and enveloped the assassin's feet. Stuck them in place and quickly foamed up to their necks.

"Ha!" Raven shouted, grinning with delight.

She hit the deck a moment later when Motya kicked her feet out from under her. A knife flashed over her shoulder and then arced down to the hydroponics below. Nasty. Not too surprisingly. Iman flung a knife back at the Collective member who'd attempted to kill Raven and then they were running back towards the flyer.

Jing laughed as they ran, lip curled up in a sneer that was more joy than disgust. It took a moment for Iman to realize that he was grinning so widely that his face hurt. Blasters and needles flew around them, just barely stopped by Jing's shields. There were knives, too, and the howl of the Drath as they charged to the battle with all speed. And behind that was the sound of alarms, shouting and that monotone feminine voice that every station across the human sphere used for both bland and emergency announcements. That droned on about staying indoors and not going out into the hallways. And that the blast doors would be closing soon.

"Can you stop them?" Jing shouted as he laid down a rapid pattern of cover as Raven and Motya sent off a series of the foam grenades, catching half the young Collective members and one very angry older member.

"The doors?" Iman asked as he fired straight up into the fire suppression system over their heads. Foam sprayed down like huge snowflakes, covering everything and everyone with its viscous gel. "Of course, beloved. I did that ages ago, before they even started firing. But I do think we should flee with all due speed. The technician batch seems to have left a bomb. I believe we might wish to be behind at least one, perhaps several blast doors in the very near future."

"…a bomb?" Jing said, staring at Iman for a moment, blaster slack in his hand. "Let's go!"

They ran, slipping around corners and then flying past Trrema whose personal shield was a thing of knives and electrocution to Iman's systems. She howled with joy and didn't appear to be even the slightest concerned about the foam or the blasters, the needles or the potential bomb.

More power to her. Iman ran, laughing with delight as Jing tripped him and they rolled underneath a table with Raven and Motya over the top of them just as the bomb went off and rocked the entire station.

The explosion ran the station like a bell.

"Beloved," Iman murmured once the ringing in his ears declined enough that he thought Jing might hear him. "We may have worn out our welcome."

Jing snickered. "Marry me."

"This is not the time!" Raven snarled at them both.

She and Motya hauled them back to their feet, shoved them towards the long winding hallway that led from the commercial and recreational levels of the station towards the stairs, not the lifts, to the docking bay. A wise woman, their Raven, truly a very wise woman.

Three more attacks happened as they ran across the station, well, more like a quarter of the way across it. They defeated all three, depleting much of the extra ammunition they'd purchased. The little knife shop was still quite shut and very well shielded when they ran by. So was the bookstore and the restaurant, both of which looked as though they'd decided to have an impromptu early closing tonight.

By the time they made it to the landing bay, the people chasing them were station security, not assassins or the Collective.

"Better shots," Jing commented as he casually picked off three in as many seconds.

"The others?" Iman asked. He took down four on the catwalks overlooking the flyer, allowing them to run for it.

"Of course," Jing agreed.

"They really aren't very well trained, beloved," Iman said.

They dove into the flyer. Raven dove after them and then Motya slapped the trigger to speed-seal the door. Together, Iman and Jing ran for the controls. He worked to get them released from the docking system, already triggered to keep them there at all costs, while Jing brought the flyer on-line and then lifted them off so that they could escape.

"If we keep this up we may run out of stations that will allow us to visit, Love," Jing commented. "Oh, very nicely done! I thought I'd have to blast the doors open."

"That was not me, beloved," Iman said.

He laughed quietly at the cursing coming from the weapons pods. It sounded as though Motya was rather annoyed that no one had thought to restrain her precious pizzas. A moment's thought engaged the stasis system in the kitchen, ensuring that nothing would move until they were safely out of combat.

"Thank you!" Motya yelled.

"Get us out of here!" Raven bellowed. "No more dates! No! None, ever, at all, either of you, damn it I'll blow both of your heads off, I swear I will!"

"That would cancel your contract," Jing called back to her.

The silence that fell felt like death stalking closer but they were out of the landing bay and into open space. Very busy open space full of dozens upon dozens of small flyers and a handful of large ships come to trade at the station but still, open space. Jing piloted them through with his customary skill, a feral grin stretching his lips.

The Wave, when he engaged it, was a gentler one, a more reasonable one, that barely made Iman's eyes cross. He reached out and caught Jing's wrist, squeezing until Jing glanced over at him. Whatever Jing saw there made his eyes go wide and his breath catch. Jing's wrist trembled under Iman's fingers.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" Jing asked, blinking and frowning delightfully at Iman.

"Yes, I'll marry you, you nyargle of a man," Iman explained. He laughed and laughed and laughed some more as Jing's eyes went wide and then his breath whooshed out as if Iman had punched him in the gut. "It's insane. It's dangerous. We'll probably end up dead but I don't think I want to be anywhere else than by your side."

Jing jerked Iman close enough that their lips crashed together. He heard Raven start cursing again, perhaps for the kiss, more likely for the comment about her contract. That faded away. Everything faded away into the taste of Jing's dinner on his tongue and the feeling of Jing shaking under his hands.

"You're crazy," Jing whispered against Iman's lips.

"As are you, my beloved gammerstang," Iman agreed. "We make a good pair. Perhaps we can make a difference for everyone if we keep at it, hmm?"

"Let's try," Jing said, kissing Iman lightning quick and feather light. "After we get back to the Graceful Swan. Thank you."

"No, thank you," Iman said, heart beating faster for joy instead of panic this time. A whole new life that wasn't all that different from his old one. But now he was free, with Jing by his side and the chance to make a difference for the first time ever.

The universe had better look out. Between the two of them, it wouldn't know what hit it.

The End

Other Romance Books by Meyari McFarland:

Matriarchies of Muirin:

Coming Together

Fitting In

Following the Beacon

The Solace of Her Clan

Debts to Recover:

The Nature of Beasts

Assumptions of Debt

The Manor Verse:

A New Path

Following the Trail

Crafting Home

Finding a Way

Go Between

Like Arrows of Fate

The Drath Verse

Clash of Lines

You can find these and many other books at www.MDR-Publishing.com. Sign up for our newsletter to get the latest news and special offers!

Author’s Note: Clash of Lines

Joining of Lines is the second of my Drath series. The first, Clash of Lines, takes place literally hours before this one starts. It focuses on Jing's cousin, Nthanda and his new love Ru Sashi. Since they're so closely tied together I thought you might like a sample of the book. Hope you enjoy!

1. Chance Encounter

Ru dove into the alley, slid behind the huge black slime-covered vent stack and froze, face tucked as close to the slime as he dared. His rucksack of belongings, too small and light but it was all he had, pressed against the base of his spine. The hiding spot was the best he could do, the darkest spot available at the moment. Better now than before he made his delivery. Hiding with that big box would have been impossible.

If he was very, very lucky this spot would be enough. And if it wasn't enough then he'd be dead and that would be that. But he wanted to live.

The alley stank of rotting garbage and piss, no surprise in this part of Hexal City. No sane garbage bot would come down here. They'd end up jacked and resold, half their parts missing and most of their gears replaced with crumbling ones. Their parts would be worth more than they were intact. Besides, garbage rotted and went away. Drained down the sewers by the endless rain that came from the upper levels.

He shivered when voices came closer, shouting, angry, but didn't move. This wasn't Ru's problem. It never had been. The only reason the Bangers were looking for Ru was that he'd managed to walk by one of their fights just as it ended. Ru hadn't even seen who was down when the shouts went out of 'witness!' and 'get him!'

So he'd run and now he'd hide and hopefully they'd miss him and it would be all right. They hadn't had any closer a look at his face than he'd had at theirs. Face rec notwithstanding, Ru was pretty sure they didn't really know who he was. Skinny kid in worn leathers with his hood up, hair hidden and eyes behind glasses? There were a million of those out there in Hexal. More like fifteen million, really, and Ru was just one of many.

If he could get away from the search.

That was the important part, the part that had him standing still despite the water dripping around and over him, despite the stink of black slime in his nose and the rumble of hunger in his belly. Two days since his last real meal. Food tablets didn't count even if they did keep you from starving and passing out. The bread had been old and dry, the soup thin and watery with just beans and random shreds of algae in it, but it was real food so he'd savored it while 'listening' to the preachers selling their tales of heaven and hell.

Stupid to believe them. They didn't live here. Hexal's under city was hell already. He was supposed to think that there was something worse than what he saw around him day in and out? Get on with that. There wasn't anything worse that the things he saw every day.

"That way!" a Banger shouted as he ran through the puddles at the end of the alley. "Saw a hood! He's that way!"

The pack of Bangers howled and ran past the alley, shivs out and claws splayed. Ru glimpsed fangs and slitted eyes, pumping arms and legs open to the rain that were covered with tattoos and gene-spliced stripes of fur, then they were gone. Their howls, mostly awkward and weak compared to the howls of true Engineered, drifted through the street, up the little alley and to Ru's ears. Only once they'd been gone for a full five minutes did Ru carefully untuck himself from his hiding spot.

He peeked into the street and sighed with relief that no one was there. Then he ran the opposite direction, heading towards the lifts. One advantage of being a delivery boy was that he knew the entire Undercity like the back of his hand. Right now the lifts were his best bet of getting to safety. Not what he'd wanted to do, spend money on a trip upwards, but if the Bangers were prowling then he couldn't get home on this level of the city. And to get to a level where he'd be safe he had to go higher than his legs could carry him.

Ru made a point of letting one of the cleaner downspouts of water from Above wash over him before he got a ride on a lift. Sure, he dripped in his corner of the lift but he wasn't covered in slime or dirt and the other people on the lift, other than one tall, muscular man who really, really, really didn't belong down here, were equally wet so they'd done the same.

And that man was wet, too, just the sort of wet that said he'd gotten rained on, not the wet of 'gotta wash off the worst of it before I try to be respectable'. Gorgeous. Skin dark as deep shadow, hair trimmed so short it was a bare fuzz on his scalp, the man stood like a one-man army even though Ru couldn't see a single weapon on him.

Didn't mean a thing, not when the man was obviously from the Surface. Maybe from Beyond, outside of Hexal City entirely. Not too many people here had skin that dark. It spoke of deep space and exposure to the raw radiation out there. The poise said off world, too. He stood so tall, so straight, that he seemed to suck the air out of the lift compared to everyone else who carefully slouched so that they wouldn't brush up against anyone else.

Especially him.

As the lift reached the next stop, Ru's stop, the man's eyes swept around the lift. They lit on Ru, caught him staring fair and clear, which made Ru blush and flinch. The man's eyes, ice blue and shocking against that dark, dark skin, suddenly twinkled with amusement. Ru nodded to him, got a raised eyebrow and nod back.

Then the lift open and Ru slipped out. With the man on his heels.

Damn it.

Ru let out a breath and set off across the plaza. Nice plaza, only a little dampness from the rain above, some scrubby bushes in big concrete pots five times as heavy as Ru was. People were nicer dressed, not rich but nice enough, with boots that had no holes and hoods that'd actually keep the rain off their hair. Most of the stores in the plaza were shut up, blinds sealed and steel shutters down, but there was enough traffic that Ru didn't stick out too badly. Give it another hour and he'd be arrested for loitering just because he was there.

Up here you had to be different. Stand straighter, walk confident but not swagger. Putting on a swagger would get you arrested up here, just on suspicion. Wasn't like the High City where Ru would be arrested for not having proper ID chips but you couldn't be cocky here. So he worked on lowering his shoulders and using the walk his Ma had called 'places to go and things to do' when she'd taught it to him when he was tiny.

Worked, mostly. Ru got some looks but every time he got one he'd look at the signs pointing towards the next lift station, count on his fingers, nod and then stride onwards. Places to go and things to do, that was Ru, just making his way to the right lift station so he could go do his things. Which was get home, back to his squat, eat some food tablets and then curl up to sleep for a few hours before his next shift. All things to do, important things, yes sir, very important things.

He was just about far enough that he could get back down to the right levels when the man from the lift grabbed Ru's shoulder and hauled him backwards.

"Don't," the man hissed at Ru.

"What?" Ru hissed right back only to backpedal right into the man's chest as he saw the Guard coming straight at him. "What'd I do? I didn't do nothing!"

"They're not after you," the man murmured. "They're after me."

Ru stared at him and then cursed under his breath as the Guard spotted the two of them and shouted. First Bangers and now the Guard, just what this day needed. He jerked free of the man's grip, spun and ran at right angles to the Guard. Not away. That's an easy shot and Ru wasn't about to be an easy shot. Right angles took him through six big concrete pots who's bushes had gotten big. Another turn, right this time, and the Guard shouted.

He didn't look. Didn't dare. The man's footsteps were right behind Ru and that was all he needed to know. One man army like that could protect himself. All Ru needed to do was get away so that's what he'd do.

"Down," Ru gasped as he turned left into a broad street full of people hurrying home that his heels skidded on the wet pavement.

"Up!" the man countered. "I have allies. They will help."

"They're not here," Ru snapped at him as he wove between bodies, people, shouts piling up behind him that turned into screams as the Guard turned the corner too. "Down means Bangers. They're hunting tonight."

"Ah."

There was enough approval in that one word that Ru looked and yes, there was admiration in the man's eyes. He nodded, scruffed Ru so that he didn't smash into another concrete pot, and then they were off running towards stairs that led down one level. They needed ten levels to get to the bangers but there was no lift close enough, safe enough, for them to use.

"Hold on!" the man shouted as he picked Ru up and slung one arm around Ru's waist.

Ru screamed 'what?' as the man jumped straight down the center of the stairwell, not down to the next level like a smart if reckless man but the center, the pace where there were no stairs at all. He managed not to scream for more than a few seconds but damn, he wanted to as they fell. Just as Ru was convinced that he was going to die the man hugged him close and then grabbed a railing, swinging them like they were on a cable onto the stairs.

"Oh fuck," Ru gasped. "How many levels?"

"What?"

"How many levels did we fall?" Ru asked, looking up where the Guard were cursing and firing randomly down the stairs as they ran after them. "We need ten levels."

The man looked, still as stone for a second, and then nodded. "One more level down."

"Stairs," Ru said as sternly as he could only to get a blindingly bright grin out of the man.

They ran. Down the stairs and out onto the slimy street where the howls of the Bangers were far too close for Ru's comfort. The man stiffened at hearing it, lip curling up on one side. But he nodded and then gestured for Ru to lead. Ru shook his head, waited twitching until he heard the Guard's voices clearly, most of them cursing and swearing to beat and rape their dead bodies.

"You owe me food," Ru said to the man, wagging a finger at him.

"I shall be glad to provide," the man replied with that brilliant grin.

His teeth were so white, white and perfect and even. Ru shuddered, bit his lip, and then nodded before taking off straight towards the howls of the Bangers. He was going to regret this. He just knew it. But the man was gorgeous and Ru still wasn't home yet. If he had to be trapped between Bangers and the Guard, well, there were uglier people to be trapped with.

And if he was right that the man was off world then he might have some very good surprises for both the Guard and the Bangers. All Ru had to do was keep his head, run and then stay alive when the fighting started.

He could do that. He would do that. It was something that Ru'd gotten very good at since Ma died four years ago. And if there was potential for a meal in there, well, Ru would take that up, too.

"Keep close," Ru panted as the Guard shouted and fired towards their backs. Missed for some damn reason which probably had more to do with running out of breath after the chase than anything else but hey, Ru would take his luck where he got it. "The Bangers are nasty, not the worst but they'll still stab you if you give them a chance. Or claws. Or bite. Or beat you. They don't care."

"Do they in fact hate the Guard worse than either of us?" the man asked. He didn't sound winded at all. Lucky or very healthy, Ru didn't know.

Ru barked a laugh. "Man, there's no one the Bangers hate worse than the Guard. We just gotta set them on each other and then run like hell."

The man hummed, smiled a wicked wild smile that might have made even the craziest of Bangers step back and away. "Good. I can use that. I will get you to safety, I swear it. You will not be harmed."

It was a promise so formal that Ru nearly stopped to stare at the man. Stupid promise to make right now when there was a pitched battle about to happen but hey, maybe that was how off worlders rolled. Ru didn't know. Didn't care.

"There!" Ru gasped. "That's them!"

He didn't point, didn't dare throw off his stride. Instead Ru ran straight for the pack of Bangers howling and shouting as they beat someone to death. If he was very, very lucky he might save whoever it was and his life, too.

Ru ran, focus narrowing. Time to fight.

2. Battle Worthy

Nthanda Ceelen, you are a fool. You spot a person with dark, bright eyes peeking out from under his heavy black hood, full lips and skin as golden as the sun rising over the bow of the ship and you lose all sense. Whoever the youth was, he was not someone who could help with the quest. At best, he was a distraction, a dangerous distraction.

The Guard were quite determined to kill Nthanda before he could find what he needed to save his family. This youth was not a solution to that problem. Nor to his family's immanent fall. Even if his shoulders were strong and wide, his hips narrow and ass the sort of thing that would draw Nthanda across solar systems. Much too dangerous, this youth, and much too distracting.

Still, Nthanda ran with the entirely too comely youth straight at the thugs who were apparently titled 'Bangers'. This entire trip had been a fool's errand and one that threatened not only his life but the stability of the entire Ceelen family. If he had a sibling or better yet offspring, then this would not be so foolish. Battle with strangers on a world the majority of the galaxy decreed to be worthless would not be the end of his line.

As the sole survivor of the Ceelen line, Nthanda had a duty to continue his bloodline. The problem was finding one whose bloodline did not have conflicting modifications or mutations. The Ceelen were among the first to take to space and thus had a host of latent medical problems. Technology kept them from damaging Nthanda but they were lethal to all the children he'd attempted to sire and bear so far.

The only solution that the doctors had come up with inside the confines of the law was finding a bloodline that had none of his markers. And sadly, that was a difficult task indeed. Three lines existed. None of the scions of those lines could be found though it was believed that they still existed. The trail had led him here to Hexal City on Melin only to go cold as a dead comet once he arrived. Even going down to the actual records offices in the lower levels of the city where physical records of births, deaths and marriages were kept had revealed nothing of use.

Nothing other than the determination of the Guard to keep him from succeeding. Someone had paid them off. Someone rich and powerful which meant one of Nthanda's circle was a traitor. A problem to be sure, perhaps a deadly one if he didn't keep his head in the battle.

But here he was, charging into battle with an unknown youth as his sole companion. A fool indeed. At least his shields had held against the Guard's blasters. He would have been most displeased to see the youth crumple, holes burnt through his perfect body.

The Bangers looked up as the youth charged straight at them. They grinned like the predators they were, displaying altered fangs in the place of teeth and claws on their fingertips. The youth didn't slow, didn't hesitate, didn't even attempt to shout a warning to the Bangers.

"Guard!" Nthanda shouted as he ran at the youth's side. "Coming quick!"

The Bangers' eyes widened and then they howled very much like the animals they sought to become. Thankfully, their focus shifted past Nthanda and the youth towards the Guards who screamed at them the stop, to drop their weapons, or who simply shouted obscenities as they, too, charged the Bangers.

Promising.

The youth crashed straight into the line of Bangers, shoving his way through them. Nthanda followed through the gap and then cursed under his breath as he realized that this was no small pack of humans trying to pretend to be predators. This was a rape gang with their prey on the ground. The boy, only twelve or thirteen, sobbed and scrambled to get up as the Bangers let him go. Bloodied, bruised, barely able to move one arm and clothes half torn off, the boy still tried to live.

Admirable. Nthanda gasped as the youth grabbed the boy and hauled him, one handed, up to his feet. The youth kicked hard at the knees of the Banger closest to him, knocking the Banger to the ground and opening another gap for them to surge through.

Nthanda took it. He seized the youth in one arm, no squawk from him this time, and the boy in the other. The boy screamed and clutched at Nthanda's shirt. The youth slung an arm around Nthanda's shoulders, grunting loudly, but he kept his poise, riding Nthanda's strength as if he had done it a thousand times.

His shield surged, knocking Bangers left and right, and then they were out of the gap, through the Bangers and running towards the next street. The boy jerked in Nthanda's arm, pointing urgently done one alley. Nthanda took him at his word and ran straight into it.

It was narrow enough that he had to shift the youth to his feet in front of Nthanda so that he could carry the boy in his arms.

"Where?" the youth called to the boy.

"Up," the boy said, the single word half a sob, half a gasp of shock as the youth scrambled for a hanging railing.

The youth's weight pulled that railing down, exposing a battered, slimy rusting stairway that led upwards. Nthanda grinned and followed the youth. So fast, so smart, so wise, this one. The stairway retracted behind them, hiding their pathway from the potential pursuit by either Bangers or Guard. Six flights of stairs later they emerged into a different level of the city. The youth followed the boy's quiet directions, leading Nthanda to a block of decrepit rooms built out of miscellaneous junk into the crevices between heating ducts and air vents.

"Close enough to home?" the youth asked the boy.

"Yeah," the boy said. He tried to stand, flinched when his foot touched the ground but managed to support himself on his own feet. "Thanks. I um."

"I know," the youth said. "They almost got me earlier. Couldn't leave you."

The boy shuddered, nodded to them both and then shuffled away as quickly as he could. Another wise one, that child. Nthanda breathed, looked around himself, and then frowned as he had absolutely no idea where he was or how to get back to the upper levels.

The youth grinned. "Lost? I'm Ru."

"Quite," Nthanda admitted with a grin of his own that became a laugh when the youth, when Ru, snickered. "Nthanda. I do still owe you food. Perhaps we could do that now? I do need to return to the upper levels quickly. There are those who will be quite upset with my ah, absence."

"Slipped your watch, huh?" Ru said. His nose wrinkled adorably. "Okay. I'm not exactly dressed for high levels but hey, food is food, especially when it's free. The lifts are this way but you're paying. I already spent my fare for the day."

"I am more than happy to…"

Nthanda stopped. He stared at Ru's arm, at the line of golden skin peeking through the sleeve. At the blood dripping down Ru's arm to stain the sleeve a darker shade of black. Ru frowned, looked at his arm and then shrugged as if the wound was nothing at all.

Instead of evidence that Ru had saved Nthanda's life.

That spot on Ru's arm was exactly where Nthanda's jugular would have been. Ru had taken a death blow for Nthanda. He reached out, fingers shaking despite his efforts to control them, only to pull his fingers back when Ru glared at him.

"Just a graze," Ru said as if he thought Nthanda was being a fool.

"No, that knife would have struck my neck," Nthanda replied. "It bounced low, did it not? Off your arm and then into my jacket. The jacket is armored but my neck is not. It would have cut my jugular, Ru. Do not pretend that it would not have."

Ru's face went red as Nthanda spoke. He wrapped his hand around the wound as if to hide it, shrugged while looking away. Such a valiant person and yet Ru seemed to view himself as having no worth. A by-product of living in the lower levels of Hexal City? Nthanda wondered and yet did not.

"Still just a scratch," Ru grumbled. "Not that important."

"I like to think that my life is quite important to me," Nthanda said, grinning when he was rewarded with a lightning glance and an amused smirk. "I believe I owe you more than just a meal, Ru. Please. Let us walk and we can discuss it."

"Discuss what?" Ru said. "It's still just a scratch."

He looked around and started walking to their left so that must be the way to the lifts. When Nthanda opened his mouth to explain, Ru held up a hand, waved it at the surrounding tiny homes and then scowled while tapping his head where his ears hid under the hood.

So. Listeners who would take advantage. Logical. Nthanda nodded. Their return to the lift was accomplished in silence, Ru in the lead and Nthanda following him closely. This level of Hexal City was constantly wet, covered with black slime that Nthanda did his best not to touch. The stuff was toxic. They'd all been warned extensively about touching it before they disembarked on Melin. Ru didn't seem to have problems with it, though. He laid cautious fingerprints on a patch of the stuff when peeking around a corner and only brushed them against his thigh afterwards.

Good strong genetics on him. Nthanda watched Ru, considered his options and decided that he truly only had one choice. As much as he would love to take Ru to his bed as a lover, Nthanda had to keep himself for the scion of the lines he found, should he ever find one. That meant that Ru must be considered a sibling, not someone to bed.

Nthanda almost cursed at the universe for denying him the right to claim Ru that way. He would chew his own limbs off when those around him began to court Ru because one as beautiful, strong and intelligent as Ru was destined to be instantly popular.

Still, he would offer Guardianship. As Ru's Guardian, Nthanda could bring him home, back to his flagship. He could train, educate, guide and, more importantly, add Ru to the Ceelen line. A new branch, strong and bright, was exactly what the Ceelen needed. It would also allow more pairings as Ru would not have Nthanda's difficulty in breeding. He was not a space-traveler, after all.

"That's the lift," Ru finally said half an hour later. "It's a rickety one, goes nowhere useful, but it'll get us up to the higher levels. From there we can move onwards, take back routes, to whatever level you need."

"Get us to the surface and I will take it from there," Nthanda promised.

"You're taking me to the surface?" Ru hissed at him. "Have you seen me?"

"Yes," Nthanda said. He struggled not to smile in the face of Ru's disgusted expression. "I see a brilliant young person, a powerful warrior and a good heart in you. That is what I wished to offer you. My family, my line, is dying. I was here to search for a mate whose genetics would produce healthy children instead of stillborns or spontaneous abortions. I did not succeed in that. However, I would offer you Guardianship. I will be your Guardian which will make you of my bloodline. My sibling as it were. You will inherit after I do and your children will carry the Ceelen name. Hopefully, your children will play and grow with mine, should I ever find the scions I seek."

"…You want to adopt me?" Ru hissed, eyes wide under his hood and golden skin pale. "Me?"

"Yes," Nthanda said. "You have every trait the Ceelen value and you saved my life, Ru. It is proper and, well, I have been alone my entire life. Having a sibling to carry the burdens of my position would be… welcome."

That he wanted so much more than a sibling was irrelevant at this moment. Ru could not be the mate Nthanda needed. He would take what he was allowed and he would not complain. Nthanda's certainty rocked Ru back on his heels. He set one hand on the wall, ignoring the black slime that coated his palm, and then stared at Nthanda for the longest time.

"Ceelen," Ru finally said. "You said that you're of the Ceelen line. The ones who run the Ceelen Shipyards. Ceelen Spaceliners. Ceelen Industries. Those Ceelen."

"Oh yes," Nthanda said. "My father was the head of the family until he died three years ago. It fell to me to take his place. I… well. It is lonely, Ru. Please. Your path will be your own, that I promise you, but can it be much worse than this?"

He gestured to the slime and ever-falling rain, the dark hallways and looming levels of the undercity. Hunger and no light and the eternal struggle for food which had to be bad for Ru to so willingly take the offer of food from Nthanda. Though he probably had expected a bag of food from a small shop and the immediate parting of ways with no words ever spoken between them again.

Ru's eyes went wide. He looked around, frowned and then put one hand on his bag, discrete little black thing slung across his back. After a moment, his thoughts hidden along with his eyes because Ru bowed his head to allow his hood to hide his face in shadows, Ru nodded.

"I accept," Ru murmured. "No sex. No pain if it can be avoided. I don't bleed for anyone against my will. And you don't set up any damned matches for me. I want someone then I'll seduce them myself. You'll have my back, right?"

Nthanda's heart lifted so high that it felt as though his feet left the ground. "I will have your back in every way, Ru. This is my promise to you. Were you younger I would raise you as my own child. Instead, you will be as my sibling in every way possible for as long as you want. If you have family, I will bring them as well. You need but ask."

Ru's intent stare, lips twitching as if he was amused, crumbled. "They're all dead. Sorry. Ma died four years ago and it was just us. She claimed to have relatives off world but they never answered any messages so I think she just made them up. Gave her the illusion of security, I guess. So yeah. It's just me. But thanks. I appreciate it. Now come on. We shouldn't stand around down here. You get any slime on you?"

"Inevitably," Nthanda said with a tired sigh for the decontamination he would endure once back to the Graceful Swan.

"Quick shower and we'll go then."

Ru didn't explain where he would find a shower facility down here. Instead he strode into a downspout of water from above, bowing his head under its stream until his clothes were soaked and any visible signs of the black slime were gone. When Ru gestured for Nthanda to follow suit, well, Nthanda hesitated for a moment. An odd method but if it worked perhaps he would be able to avoid full decontamination?

Which it did seem to do, surprisingly. The streaks of black on his coat washed away. While he was soaked, head to toe, and desperately grateful that his personal electronics were sealed against all impact and water damage, he was cleaner than he had been. It would suffice for the moment. Ru grinned at Nthanda's attempts to shake the excess water off. Then he gestured grandly towards the lift.

"Indeed," Nthanda said, chuckling. "Do let us depart. There are lectures to endure and papers to sign."

"And food to eat," Ru said so challengingly that Nthanda burst out laughing.

"And food to eat," Nthanda agreed. "The best food I can arrange at short notice."

"Gotta be better than what I'm used to," Ru replied. "Gotta be a lot better than what I'm used to."

As the lift doors shut them in and the lift began is jerky rise towards the surface, Nthanda considered that very likely it would be the best food that Ru had ever eaten in his entire life even if Nthanda himself viewed it as marginal at best. What a life his new… brother… had lived. The entirety of the Ceelen would not know what to do with Ru.

Nthanda found himself looking forward to it even as he dreaded it. If only he could keep Ru to himself and never have to share.

Clash of Lines is now available at all major retailers in ebook and TPB format.

Afterword

When I wrote Clash of Lines I didn't expect that I'd get into the Drathanni. I thought they wouldn't show up until the third or the fourth book. Trust Jing and Iman to drag them straight in and make them a part of the story. Neither of them seemed willing to do anything that I had planned.

Not that I mind.

The Drath are hugely important in this 'verse. As the first spacefaring race and the only one that actually seeks contact with other alien species, the Drath are a perfect complement to curious, adventurous humans. I didn't get to spend too much time with them in this book but it was a pure joy to bring them in at all.

This entire series, because book three is on the way to being published, is a joy to write. I started building this 'verse in high school shortly after discovering Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series. It was the first time I saw positive renditions of queer characters in books. Or anywhere else for that matter. I hadn't realized until then just how starved I was for characters that were more like me.

So of course I started building this verse with the Drath who have so much history and power but feel so like imposters. The humans who have spread across their sector of the galaxy, changing and evolving to match their environments. Humanity is, after all, infinitely adaptable when survival is at stake. And the many worlds, space stations and ships that form the backdrop for these stories.

It's all changed and deepened over the last twenty-some years. I don't think I could have written these stories before now. Not only were my skills just not up to it, I think I needed to mature a good bit too. Still, I'm so glad to be writing this series now and I truly hope that you enjoyed reading it.

Meyari McFarland

August, 2016

http://meyari.wordpress.com/

Author Bio

Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from adventures appropriate to children to erotica but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way.

Meyari has been married for twenty years and has no children or pets. She lives in the Puget Sound, WA and enjoys the fog, rain and cool weather that are typical here. When vacation times come, she and her husband usually go somewhere warm like Hawaii or they go on their own adventures to Japan and other far away countries.

Her life has included jobs ranging from cleaning motel rooms, food service, receptionist, building and editing digital maps, auditing and document control.

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