by L. V. Lloyd
But Dane also knew it wouldn’t last, he simply wasn’t a one man man. Well, not for long anyway. He liked variety, and freedom, freedom to pick up a cute boy for a night, or more, without feeling guilty about it. He couldn’t understand how Callan could be happy limiting himself to just one man for a whole year, or even longer. The very idea made him feel claustrophobic. He knew they were better off as friends, not lovers but... He sighed again. Time for another drink. He turned and signalled to the bartender.
Then he caught sight of the stranger, hovering on the edge of the party. Dressed in black pants and a black shirt matching his night dark hair, his light brown skin was the only touch of colour about him. Dane stared open-mouthed. Luckily he took a second look before allowing himself to drool openly. Damn. Who would ever have dreamed the Lieutenant would scrub up like that? It wasn’t fair.
He’d met him briefly a day or two ago when Serra Yoshida had grabbed Dane by the arm and introduced them. Except then the other man had been in his uniform, just another Patrol officer that he wanted to avoid. Everyone knew the Patrol had a thing against oms. He’d heard people say oms weren’t even allowed to join the sacred ranks, not unless they lied about their sexuality. It gave Dane the creeps just thinking about it.
He wondered if Callan had met the Patrol officer yet. He didn’t think so, he hadn’t said anything to him about it. He looked around for his partner and was just in time to see Callan slip out of the room. Sneaking off for a smoke, he guessed. Smoking didn’t kill people any more like it had in the past, but it was considered an unpleasant habit, something to be done in the privacy of your own home and not in public.
A wicked thought popped into Dane’s head. He strolled casually over to Oliver. “Have you met our illustrious Governor yet?” he asked with a lazy smile.
“No. So far we’ve managed to miss each other,” the Lieutenant’s voice was dry.
“He’s just stepped outside for a minute if you want to catch him alone,” Dane offered, looking as innocent as possible. The other man nodded, politely. “Thanks.”
Time to confront that elusive Governor, thought Mike. He wove his way through the crowd and left the room. He looked around but there was no one in the reception area. Guessing the Governor had gone up to the roof garden for a breath of air, Mike stepped on the yellow disk and slowly ascended. The only man he could see was wearing a bright pink vest and purple pants, watching a curl of smoke drift up from a small pipe in his hand. Damn. He must have missed the Governor after all. Most likely he had just popped into the restroom downstairs.
Mike must have made a small sound of frustration because the smoker turned toward him. His face was rugged rather than handsome, but his full lips curled into a warm smile at the sight of him. The smile lit up his whole face.
“Aren’t you adorable?” murmured the stranger, stepping closer. “Were you looking for me?”
“No. Not unless you’re the Governor,” Mike smiled back despite himself. He had been so focussed on keeping celibate to protect his career he couldn’t remember the last time he had flirted with a stranger, even mildly.
“Don’t I look like the Governor?” replied the other man, still smiling, as if inviting Mike to share in the joke. “Did Dane send you up here?”
“You could say that.”
“Oh good. I don’t think I’ve ever had a birthday present like you!” Before Mike could move the other man put his strong arms around him, pulling him firmly against his body. The kiss was hard and completely unexpected. What the—! Was the man mad? He wasn’t a damn birthday present!
Mike wrenched his mouth away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m a Patrol officer! Let go of me!”
For a moment Callan froze. Then he laughed, a trifle thickly. “Of course you are! Gods you’re so hot. I don’t know where Dane found you and to be honest I don’t really care.” He tried to capture the stranger’s lips again with his own, unable to believe his luck. The hottest man he had seen in years was in his arms. Dane had promised him something “special” for his birthday, but could he possibly be that lucky?
The next thing Callan knew, he was flat on his back, winded. Well that was a surprise, he thought, trying to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had got the better of him like that.
Callan blinked up at the man in black towering over him. He looked absolutely furious. A cold tendril of unease wove through the happy anticipation caused by lust and brandy. Oh no! He couldn’t really be... could he?
“I see you’ve met then, Governor, Lieutenant,” Serra Yoshida’s amused tones floated from the garden behind them.
Chapter Four
“I’m sorry about that. My mistake,” Callan looked up ruefully at the man still glaring down at him. He was looking deeply offended, not at all ready for them both to have a good laugh about it. Was he an om or not? The way he had smiled at him earlier, he’d certainly thought so, but Callan was pretty certain they didn’t let oms into the Patrol. Whatever the stranger’s sexual orientation, they had definitely gotten off on the wrong foot.
Callan scrambled up hastily. “Let’s take this from the top again,” he suggested, brushing off his clothes. He held out his hand. “I’m Callan Rian, the current Governor of Asra.”
Still tight-lipped, at least the Lieutenant shook his hand briefly before dropping it as fast as he could. “Lieutenant Mike Oliver. Sir.”
Callan winced at the “sir” but didn’t protest. “Let me buy you a drink by way of an apology, Lieutenant,” he offered. “It’s my birthday, I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course, sir,” Oliver answered with chilly politeness.
The Governor turned to include Serra Yoshida, summoning up a smile. “Come on. Let’s all go and get a drink, this is a party!”
Dane watched the three of them re-enter the room with amused anticipation. He really hoped Callan had made a pass, ruffled those sleek black feathers. He would have given a month’s pay to have been an invisible witness to the scene above. He strolled over to them. “So you found the Governor then?” he asked Oliver, his eyes brimming with mischief.
If he was hoping for a reaction, he was disappointed. The Lieutenant’s face was blandly civil. All he got was a polite, “Yes, I did. Thank you.”
But Callan’s reaction more than made up for it. “I’ll kill you later,” he hissed in a low voice, a pleasant smile on his face as he shouldered past him to get to the bar. Dane buried his grin in his glass. Yes! That should stop any risk of a friendly relationship developing between the two of them. A man had to protect himself and his territory, after all.
Somehow Callan got through the evening, making an effort to be sociable to everyone and trying to stop flicking sidelong glances at Mike Oliver. Gods he was hot! Why did he have to be a damn Patrol officer? Callan watched Oliver circulating out of the corner of his eye, having a quick word with everyone, sipping his single drink for the night, before he took his eyes off him for a couple of minutes and the officer vanished. He scanned the room feverishly but he was gone, back to his room no doubt, without bothering to say good night.
Callan shook his head, trying to stop thinking about the Lieutenant. It was probably for the best, he wouldn’t have known what to say to him in any case. Obviously “sorry” wasn’t going to be enough.
Dane had been watching Callan for the last few minutes from his place at the bar. He came over, a glass in each hand, and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Forget him!” he ordered, pulling him close so he could murmur in his ear. “He’s not your type. Here, have this instead.” He thrust a glass into Callan’s hand. “If you want some company later tonight, I’m available.” He licked Callan’s ear and stood back, grinning, only half joking.
“Very funny,” said Callan grumpily as he took the glass. “I haven’t forgiven you yet, you know.” He took a gulp of his drink. “I thought he was one of your fancy men. Gods.”
Dane’s grin got even wider. “Oh no! Don’t tell me,
you made a pass and got slapped down?”
“Worse,” said Callan gloomily. “I kissed him.”
Dane paused for a second, his glass in mid-air. “And how did that work out?”
“About as well as you’d expect. He threw me to the ground, like I was a novice, some sort of fancy martial arts. I’ll probably have bruises in the morning,” he added, then winced. He could feel one starting on his hip now.
“Poor old man,” teased Dane, with false sympathy. “Let that be a lesson to you, never try and pick up guys in uniform, they’re simply not our kind.” He urged him toward the bar. “Come and drown your sorrows. I hear Serra Yoshida has opened a bottle of the really good stuff, let’s make sure we get some before the hordes discover it.”
Callan shrugged philosophically and followed him. It seemed like a good idea as any. After all he still had a few more hours to celebrate.
Mike Oliver lay on his bed in the dark, his arms crossed beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. He was still fuming. Callan Rian might be the fucking Governor of the fucking universe but he wasn’t going to apologise to him. Not when he’d just had the unmitigated gall to take him for a male whore. He ran through the events of that evening in his mind for the umpteenth time.
It was a long time since he had been kissed like that. The wayward thought slipped in, despite his efforts. Too long. For the first time, he wondered whether, if it hadn’t been for his profession, he would have taken the insult quite so much to heart. True enough, he hadn’t been in uniform at the time, but... he was a soldier for gods’ sake, not a pleasure toy.
What he really wanted to do was go back and find Rian, throw him to the ground again and jump on him. Hold his hands trapped above his head and teach him a few lessons, the main one being that he wasn’t a whore to be taken at his whim. He allowed himself an extremely indulgent few minutes, imagining in lurid detail exactly what he would do to him. Then he sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. It wasn’t going to happen in a million years.
As a Patrol Lieutenant, and the officer in charge of the station on Asra, he had to be on his best behaviour, above reproach. Keep an official distance between himself and everyone else here. He pictured the look of utter horror on Captain Foster’s face if Mike ever allowed himself to get personally involved with the flamboyant Governor of Asra. A man with purple hair and transparent clothes. He would never get a job on a space ship. He would be extremely lucky to stay in the Patrol at all. Mike sighed again. For the first time in years he almost wished he was a civilian. Maybe a cold shower would help.
Chapter Five
Callan Rian woke up with a splitting head and a sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t he just had this argument with himself a few days ago? When would he ever learn to treat brandy with the respect it deserved and not guzzle it like ale? He looked around the room through bleary eyes, double checking that he was alone. He had a hazy memory of Dane kissing him Happy Birthday rather passionately. Luckily they had both come to their senses and left it at that. It would have been too uncomfortable to wake up together after four years of being partners instead of lovers, just because they’d had too much to drink.
He got up and staggered into the shower unit and stood under the fine spray of cold water for ten minutes as it went through the recycle program five times. Eventually the unit beeped at him, signalling it was stopping to recharge.
Coffee. He needed coffee.
And as soon as he was sober and dressed he was going to call on Mike Oliver. He had dreamed about him all night. The more he thought about the way he’d smiled at him, before he had stuck both feet in his mouth, the more he was certain Oliver was another om. He didn’t know if he’d be willing to see him privately but he was going to try, more than once if he had to. Oliver had to forgive him eventually, didn’t he?
Mike was up bright and early, pacing through the small Patrol Station, checking what still needed to be done. It seemed to him that everything was pretty much finished. The small Reception area, painted the standard pale grey, contained a desk for the officer to work from and four chairs for people to sit on while they waited. A narrow archway opened to a passage behind and two small rooms where interviews could be conducted in private if necessary. A disk in the floor of the passage would transport people down to the two tiny cells below. They were for short term stays only, of course. Anyone convicted of a serious offence would be transported to Capella and from there to a suitable prison.
All he needed was a couple of officers to staff it.
Mike went into one of the interview rooms, sat down at the desk and opened up the console unit embedded in its surface. He’d just check the latest news and then he’d let the council know he was ready to start work. Capella was the nearest inhabited star system and the source of most of the news. There were reports of a huge tax evasion scandal on Moonta, a protection racket on Burra and rumours of illegal diamonds appearing in the city of Wallaroo. He spent a few moments skimming each story, checking that there was nothing of immediate relevance to Asra. Not that he was avoiding contacting the Governor of course, a few more minutes would hardly make any difference.
“Hallo? Anyone there?” Rian’s voice drifted in to him from the front room. Talk of the devil... He sounded more cheerful than he deserved to be after the night before.
Mike frowned. What did he want? “I’ll be out in a moment,” he called, getting up and going into Reception. He paused for a second, blinking. The Governor’s purple hair was much brighter in the light of day and he wore a vivid yellow shirt above faded jeans. The combination of yellow and purple was rather startling. He was already coming forward, hand outstretched, a smile on his face.
“I thought I’d just drop in and see how everything was progressing, Mike. Can I call you Mike?”
Mike shook hands briefly then drew back, his lips tightening. “It’s probably best if you stick to Lieutenant, sir.”
Callan faltered for a second. He had just been about to come right out and ask the man if he was an om, but perhaps he’d better not. Build up a bit of rapport first. One thing was certain, unless he was totally oblivious, there was no doubt the Lieutenant would know exactly what he was. He hadn’t hidden his sexuality since he was a shy teenager.
Hard though it was to believe looking at him now, Callan had been shy and awkward growing up. He’d dressed conservatively, trying to blend in and not be noticed, when he’d met his first lover. Full of life and laughter, Josh Xavier had swept him up, introduced him to his own flamboyant style and taught him confidence. ‘Flaunt it, don’t fear it’ had been his favourite saying. “Shy and timid is a red flag to bullies,” he’d told him. “Stand up for yourself, get right in their faces and they’ll leave you alone.” Mind you, it hadn’t hurt that Josh worked out regularly at the school gym. It wasn’t long before Callan found he enjoyed the gym for its own sake as well as the opportunity to hang out with Josh. There were a lot of benefits in having a strong, fit body.
“Oh sure. Right, if you think that’s best,” Callan murmured agreeably. He looked intently at the other man, suddenly serious. “I promise I won’t mention it again, but I really wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night. I didn’t intend to disrespect you or your position.”
Damn him, thought Mike. Now he felt like a pompous jerk. He supposed it was his turn to apologise. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for throwing you. I hope you weren’t hurt?”
“No I’m fine.” The Governor was perched on the edge of the desk, settling in for a chat, ignoring Mike’s stilted behaviour. “Interesting move that. Some sort of martial arts was it?”
Mike hesitated for a moment and the Governor raised his eyebrows. “Something like that.” He wasn’t going to tell the Governor that it was a move he’d learnt growing up in the streets on Burra. He didn’t know him and he wasn’t comfortable talking about his personal life. In distinct contrast to the man in front of him who was happily giving him a potted history.
“I learnt Gungfu when I wa
s in my late teens. Being an om I needed to defend myself.” He gave Mike a sideways glance, as if inviting him to comment, but Mike was silent. “Then I found I enjoyed defending others and got myself a job protecting a holovid star while he was on Moonta for a few months. One thing led to another and eventually I set up my own security firm here, ‘Asra Interstellar Security Services.’ We have two ships now and twelve staff, counting Dane and me,” he announced with pride.
“Dane Trenwith is your partner?” Mike hoped that sounded casual.
“Yes, we set up the business together. He’s chief pilot and I’m the security expert. We’re both oms and we started off as lovers,” continued Callan, making sure Mike was left in no doubt as to their relationship. “That part didn’t work out but we were lucky enough to keep our friendship going, to be able to keep working as business partners. That was four years ago now.”
Interested despite himself, Mike asked. “What sort of work do you get?”
“Mainly escort. Small ships which don’t have their own guards or want extra protection for a particular run. The big mining companies have their own fleets for bulk ore transport, of course, but you’d be surprised how many independent miners there are, working the small seams that aren’t worthwhile for the bigger companies.”
