Wild is the Blue

by Cecilia Randell

  Trevon had been making wonderful progress in his courting. It was tricky. He had to plan for not only Blue, but the clansman, Forrest, Levi and that damned mercenary. He’d even factored in Jason. The Ministry agent did have his own spot on the shelves of penny jars after all.

  Has there ever been a courtship like this in all of Martika? The idea pleased the rebel inside him.

  He ran his fingers over each of the items arranged in the packing shreds: Chocolate, of course. Three bars of milk and three of extra dark. A small bin of peanut butter cups for Forrest. Licorice for Levi. Teriyaki style beef jerky for the clansman—Trevon grimaced, but who was he to judge the other man’s tastes—and candied almonds for Felix. Trevon had personally stood in the store and picked out all the pale pink treats, bagging them up special for the mercenary. Data cards filled with Blue’s and Forrest’s favorite music, which he may or may not have obtained by breaking into their homes and riffling through their rooms. Five new movies, which he hoped to be able to watch with them soon. A bunch of carrots for Beast and blueberries for the piquets, packed into a mini cooler.

  And those letters.

  The day Trevon had learned he’d need to travel to Earth, he’d made Forrest and Blue write notes to any of their friends and relatives they wanted to hear from, and instructed them to include some tidbit so that whoever read it would know it really was from them.

  Duri had delivered the notes. Other than Trevon, he had been the one to spend the most time with Blue and her men. Unlike Prin, he had an air of bashful eagerness under his stoic demeanor, which would put his little star’s family at ease.

  Trevon was not ready to meet his future “in-laws.” He wanted to do that with Blue by his side.

  He wished he could be there when she opened the box and saw the letters. He’d instructed Duri to take pictures, though, of both her’s and Forrest’s reactions.

  Worry niggled at him as he thought about the boy—young man, he corrected himself. Forrest was no longer a boy.

  It was not a sensation he was used to. Trevon did not worry. He calculated, he planned, and then he executed that plan. He did not worry.

  By all reports Forrest was stable, but no one knew exactly how Miyari’s drugs would affect any given person, and the results seemed to vary based on the amount given as well as who they were given to. Forrest was now on an untravelled path. All Trevon could do was watch over him.

  Him and Blue, and to a degree the rest of them.

  I’m like the fairy-fucking-godfather. Maybe when he got back he'd show up in a tux with a red rose...

  He picked up the lid of the gift box and put it in place. Perfect. He pressed the intercom.

  "Sir?"

  "Send in Duri, please."

  A minute later there was a soft knock on his office door.

  "Come."

  Duri pushed it open. "Sir."

  Trevon waved a hand. "I told you not to call me that. I've given up on Prin, but you're young enough, you can change."

  Duri swallowed. "T-trev," he stuttered out.

  "That's not too hard, is it?"

  Duri swallowed again and held his silence.

  Trevon grinned. "It's ready." He waved a hand at the box. "Don't forget to take pictures."

  "Of course, s— Trev." The guard picked up the box, cradling it in his hands as though it held the most precious of treasures. "Are there any other instructions?"

  "Just be sure to get video. And the other thing?"

  "Arranged. I have spoken to the exhibition coordinator, and he will have the piece ready for transportation as soon as the show ends."

  Trevon’s chest swelled in something he would have called pride if he allowed himself to feel such things. Forrest's first piece, and it was his. Sure, the boy—young man, you have to stop thinking of him as a boy—had collaborated with another student, but that didn't matter to Trev. The sculpture was remarkable. Trevon had snuck peeks at the original sketches, and he knew the concept was straight from Forrest's own mind.

  "Tell them to send it directly to the residence on Martika."

  Duri nodded, avoiding having to call his boss anything. Smart man. The guard turned and headed for the door. Hand on the knob, he paused. "What should I say if she asks about you?"

  Would she? He hoped so. At times he didn't know what his little star thought of him, and others it was all too clear on her face.

  How long had it been since he'd seen her? Three ten-days? Longer?

  "Tell her I miss her." More than anything else, he suspected that simple message would sway her.

  Duri remained by the door.

  "Is there something else?"

  The guard turned around. "I would like to request the assignment of becoming her guard once more." The words were formal, and if Duri had not been holding the box, Trevon was sure he would have made a formal gesture of supplication.

  Trevon crossed his arms over his chest and studied his guard. "Why?"

  Duri kept his gaze down. "She looked tired. And Elaina hinted that... there was some trouble at the Academy."

  Trevon's muscles locked. "This was not part of your report." Trevon's tone was ice.

  "It was not... Elaina's words were not clear. I only recently realized what she could have meant. I believe she was trying to be subtle, as Blue was standing beside her, but she is not the most skilled at, umm, subterfuge."

  "What, exactly, did Elaina say?"

  "I inquired about the girl who used to be after Master Peterson. Elaina informed me that she was no longer a problem."

  Trevon instantly picked up on the emphasis on the word “she.” "So someone else is a problem."

  "I believe so, sir."

  Trevon let that, “sir” go. "Who?"

  "I will report to you as soon as I have that information."

  Was there really a question of what he should do? If he was truthful, and he tried to be, at least to himself, he'd been itching for a reason to send Duri back to her side, especially since he couldn't be there himself. "Stay with her. Do not allow the others to deter you."

  "Of course. Thank you sir." Duri slipped out the door.

  Trevon shook his head as a sardonic grin spread across his face. He wasn't sure if Duri wanted to be close to Blue to guard her, or to be near her little friend.

  He returned his attention to the other items on his desk. Now that the next steps in his courtship were handled, he had business to attend to. Unfinished business, to be precise, from the debacle that was Miyari and Falass.

  As he'd known he would, he had finally picked up traces of the larger picture behind Miyari. Most remained unclear, but there was a thread that had particularly interested him, and it led him here, to Earth. To Denver, Colorado.

  But that was where it ended.

  He pulled the folder to him and flipped it open to study the data once more.

  Nothing new would pop out at him, he knew. No, he was missing too many pieces of the puzzle. Not for the first time he wondered if it was time to share what he'd found. And not for the first time he pushed aside the thought. The Alliance, outside of Martika, had already proven its weakness when it came to the temptation of this type of research and advancement. He needed to be the one to find it—and destroy it completely.

  Before him sat a photo of a man named Pakesh. He was the liaison to the Mercenary Guild's Medical and Development Divisions, was a previous associate of Miyari's, and he was standing on a street corner in downtown Denver. Not a place a man of his station and position should be found. Trevon's man had captured the shot as Pakesh exited a coffee shop. They’d pulled the footage from the shop, and Pakesh appeared to be meeting with someone, but whoever it was had stayed turned away from the camera.

  Probably knew it was there.

  Trevon's man who'd taken the photo had done so accidentally. He'd actually been tracking the new Ministry agent—one Jason Peterson. Trevon liked to know the movements of friend and foe alike, and had been pleasantly surprised to find that the new agent
for Denver was one and the same.

  Oh, who are you kidding? He's all foe. There is no friend there. Don't get ahead of yourself just because he has a penny jar in Blue's apartment.

  Trevon made a mental note to have a care package sent to Jason. There were a few items the other man could find... useful in his time here on Earth. A new thought occurred to him. Should he tell Duri to swing by the agent’s apartment and collect a letter from him as well?

  Or would that be tipping his hand too early?

  Oh, but his face… he’d have to instruct Duri to take pictures of that one as well.

  Trevon indulged himself a moment longer with picturing the befuddled and disgruntled twist that would no doubt come to Jason's features, before sighing and returning his mind to his next steps—finding Michael Pakesh.

  It was time he stepped out of the all too confining role of Family Head and got his hands dirty once more.

  Leaning back in the wooden chair set at a small round table near a front corner of the coffee shop, Trevon stared out the storefront window. Trees lined the street, and mountains peeked above tall buildings. People hurried past as they headed for their jobs. A young man pushed into the shop, bringing with him a draft of near freezing air and burning leaves. His piercings glinted as he strode for the counter.

  Trevon’s own jewelry was in place and his suit jacket had been replaced with leather. The change was freeing. It was no longer a struggle to draw in a full breath. His tongue came out and played with the silver ring on his lip. A woman two tables away slid her gaze to him. The man across from her did as well, and that look turned to a glare.

  He ignored them both.

  Pulling out his phone, he pretended to study it. He didn’t need to see the pictures again, he’d already memorized Pakesh’s face as well as his known associates, both in the guilds and in life. Not that Trevon had much hope of running into one of them here, but it was a place to start.

  Hell, maybe he’d get lucky.

  A woman entered the coffee shop. There was nothing about her to draw attention. Her medium-brown hair was bound back in a loose bun, she wore sensible shoes and a conservative pantsuit. A black purse hung off her shoulder.

  Why had she caught his eye?

  He returned his attention to his phone but tracked her as she approached the counter, placed her order, and moved to a small round table to wait. Taking a sip of his mocha, he shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, keeping her in view.

  The woman set her purse on the table and riffled through it.

  That’s when he spotted it. A small thing, really, and nothing to catch an Earthling’s attention, nothing to tell an observer this woman was anything other than the mid-level employee she appeared to be.

  Not unless you knew what you were looking at.

  It was a transponder. The same thing he’d left behind in his office, the same one he issued to each of his men while they were here on Earth, and the same item used by the Alliance, the Ministry, and the Order to facilitate communication between the open worlds. It utilized barely understood tech salvaged from the Nemico Wars to open mini-portals and connect to relays placed in strategic areas.

  He knew the face of every agent in his territory. This woman had either fallen through his net, or she was not an agent—Order, Ministry, or otherwise.

  He’d have Prin send someone in tonight to capture the footage, and go back over what they’d already copied. See who else this woman may have been meeting with.

  In the meantime, he’d follow her.

  “Fuck.”

  He’d lost her. That never happened. Trevon did not lose people.

  Union Station was teeming with people. A light-rail train pulled in on his right and even more people spilled onto the platform.

  “Young man, are you listening to me?”

  Trevon stared down at the gray haired lady who blocked his path. Her baggy sweater and flowing skirt swirled with contrasting colors. He gritted his teeth. “What did you want?”

  “This petition.” Papers were shoved in his face. “Did you listen to me at all?” Watery hazel eyes glared up at him.

  He glared back. “You are in my way. Move.”

  The elderly lady huffed. “At least take this.” She shoved a flier in his hand. “We have an on-line version. The website is on there. When you’re not busy,” she spat, “maybe you could look beyond yourself and open your eyes to what’s happening in the world today.” With another huff she turned away and moved on to her next victim.

  Paper crinkled in Trevon’s fist and he shoved it into his pocket as he scanned the crowd.

  Nothing. The mystery woman was gone.

  But at least they had another thread to tug upon.

  His thoughts turned once more to Jason. Did the Ministry agent know something? He had been at that very coffee shop when the image of Pakesh had been captured.

  Was Trevon simply being stubborn by not using the Ministry agent? Was he missing out on an opportunity here?

  He groaned, turned around, and made his way back to the street. He was going to blame these circling thoughts on Blue. She had infected him with that dangerous thing called friendship. He had urges to cooperate now, where he never had before.

  Cold sunlight glared into his eyes as he stepped outside, and he raised a hand to shield himself. What would Blue do? It was a question he’d found himself asking more and more.

  He sighed. Blue would point out that there were too many times in history when death and war could have been prevented if people just talked to each other. Then she would point out that sometimes secrets were stupid, and sometimes everyone could benefit from un-complicating things.

  Trevon pulled out his phone and made a call. Looked like he was going to personally pay a visit to a certain Ministry agent.

  Chapter 7

  JASON

  “Hold on!” he shouted as the pounding continued on his apartment door. Pulling on a shirt, he flipped the lights on in his small foyer and peered through the peephole.

  Bright blue eyes, silver piercings, and a shit-eating grin met his gaze.

  He groaned.

  Why me?

  He flicked the deadbolt and unhooked the chain. Yanking open the door, he glared at his intruder. “What? And are you insane? You know I could arrest you for even being here, right?” Jason spun on his heel and retreated back into his dim apartment. He was currently working the night shift at a bar near the university, and didn’t have to wake up for another two hours.

  “Good almost-morning Jason Peterson of the Ministry. Tracked any felons lately?” The reply was all too cheery for before caffeine.

  "Bastard," he muttered as he headed for the kitchenette and the coffee maker he'd set up the night before.

  "I see Earth is treating you well," Zeynar said as he surveyed the apartment.

  Jason knew the family head wouldn't find much. He kept his place neat. All the information he gathered was in a safety deposit box, along with the data cards. The only thing that could possibly tell him anything was...

  "Put that down, Zeynar."

  The family head had spotted Jason's phone on the coffee table where it had been set the night before, and scooped it up. He pressed the screen, typed something, rolled his eyes, and raised a brow at Jason. "Really? You used 'blue' as your password? Even Forrest could do better than that."

  Jason flushed. "Shut up." He strode forward, snatched his phone away and went to his bedroom to grab pants.

  Didn't look like he was getting back to sleep today.

  One pair of pants, a duck of his head under the faucet, and a whole cup of coffee later, and Jason turned to Zeynar once more.

  "Not going to offer me any?" The family head smirked at him.

  Jason waved a hand at the coffee maker. “Help yourself.”

  Zeynar searched the cabinets until he found the mugs and poured a glass. Taking a sip, he grimaced and set the mug aside. "That's disgusting."

  Jason shrugged and took a sip of his
own tar-like coffee. "Again, why are y—" the words died in his throat and a hard ball formed in his chest. He could think of only one reason Zeynar would come and find him, and it had to do with a certain blue-haired girl.

  "Chill, Ministry. Other than dealing with an asshole at the Academy, she's fine as far as I know. I've sent Duri back to her." Zeynar wandered around the apartment, nudging a cushion here, running a finger over a piece of furniture there. He looked like a cat stalking out and marking its territory.

  Jason's shoulders slumped in relief. It had been... a month and a half since he'd seen her. The night before he was to report to his new permanent assignment, he'd gone to the apartment for a movie night. It was the only one he'd been able to attend. They'd watched Pitch Black. He'd seen it before, but he wasn't there to see the movie.

  No, was there to see Blue, and to reassure himself that Forrest and Levi were recovering well after Falass.

  Forrest had said a few weird things, but other than that he was his normal irreverent self. Jason was never so glad to hear a mutter of "asshole" as he had been that night. He'd even smiled at the younger man, and gotten one in return.

  Maybe Blue was right. If he could open up a little, he'd find a new friend in Forrest.

  That is, if he hadn’t missed the opportunity when the Ministry sent him back to Earth.

  "They going to let you go home on leave this time?" Zeynar asked, as though he'd read Jason's thoughts.

  "Of course." The Ministry were not monsters. All agents had the option of returning home every few months for a small leave. Back in Austin, Jason had elected not to use that option. He'd had no real reason to return home.

  Now he did.

  "You decide?"

  "About what?" Jason asked.

  Zeynar's brow rose again, the low light glinting off of his piercings.

  Averting his gaze, Jason concentrated on pouring his third cup of coffee. He knew what Zeynar referred to. He was asking if Jason had decided his feelings for Blue, and what he would do about them.