“I am.”
Ben tried to smile reassuringly. “The good news? I got me a girl now and you got yours back!” The older man’s satisfied expression annoyed Shayne. “Who would have ever thought? You’re fucking an alien and I’m fucking his cast off.”
Uneasy and nervous, Shayne quickly scanned the area. “Shhhhh. We need to keep it down.”
Big Ben read his mind. “Nobody heard. You need to get over that.”
“What?”
“The paranoia about being gay. Angie’s right. Everyone already knows.”
“Then, why are you whispering? And, I’m not gay. I don’t know what I am,” lashed Shayne. He couldn’t look at his friend.
Ben impatiently addressed this stubborn denial, “So that’s what you are today. Not sure. Boy, you are turning into one temperamental motherfucker. Whatever you are, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’ve got a big game tonight.” The florescent lights turned Ben’s skin purple. His eyes were bulging. Sweat began to shine on the big man’s chest.
“Forget me for a second. Does it occur to your pea-brain there might not be a basketball league after Hadrian’s mother lines up out there?” Shayne gestured to the great beyond. He continued, “Our nineteen-year-old is leading the defense of earth. Right, a nineteen year old will save us? That’s crazy shit. What happens if he loses?”
Shayne put his face in his hands. The two men heard someone snicker. Ben walked over to the offending individual, a bench player, and said, “Shut the fuck up or I am going to shit on you now.” The man cowered before the towering presence and slunk away.
Robbie Washington joined them with some friendly words and then asked for Hadrian. Shayne thought the young man showed class approaching them. He answered, “I think he is coming to the game tonight.”
“Hadrian can do that,” Robbie asked with eyes wide?
“Yeah, it’s hard to explain, but the prince can do a lot of things.”
Ben eagerly added, “Robbie, get this. We went up there and...” As Ben started to describe their trip to the spaceship, one of Radcliff’s minions interrupted, “Coach wants to see you now.”
Reluctantly and alone, Shayne made the journey to Coach Michael Radcliff’s office. The door was open. Shayne stood outside. The Coach looked up and grunted, “Come in.” The once great man was now on the verge of being viewed as a “has been” in the league. This job with New York was his last shot at leaving a proud legacy. Although New York finally made it to the playoffs, a poor showing in the homestretch would certainly call into question Radcliff’s future. His contract was up at the end of the season. Shayne avoided looking at the large beer belly stuffed behind the desk. Scattered around the office were photos, trophies and other memorabilia from better days. The room smelled of cheap, old-man cologne.
“You blew off practice yesterday.” The statement was barren of any feeling.
“Coach, were you watching TV?”
Radcliff gave Shayne a venomous look. A flicker of disgust passed across the older man’s features. Cold eyes didn’t move. Shayne acted distracted - bored.
“Look at me, asshole.”
Shayne picked up a framed photo on the desk. “Look at me Shayne, or you’re not playing tonight. We’ll both go down as losers. I’m fine with that!” The coach was roaring in the voice he used on court.
Shayne slowly put the framed-photo down. “You have my attention.”
Radcliff didn’t look healthy. The florescent lights gave his face a limish, shiny hue. “I’ll tell you, Shayne Wright - you’ve single handedly turned the playoffs into a sick circus. The commissioner wants to suspend you.”
“For what? For being one of the best players in the league? Look at some of the other guys you employ – criminals who carry guns and beat their women. I’m the one that goes to the YMCA to teach the kids basketball. I’m the one who’s at practice before everyone else shows up. Coach, I score the most points and generate the most assists!”
Radcliff scoffed, “Here’s the gist, Wright. We all know you’re a goddam fudge-packer.” He paused – almost gaging. “I can’t believe I am even having this conversation.”
He swiveled around looking at the wall and continued to speak, “You’re a sideshow. A distraction. For god’s sake, I just want to win tonight’s game. I don’t care if this fucking world is coming to an end.” His voice was almost pleading – trembling now.
Shayne looked at his feet. There was nothing to say to the man. The florescent lights loudly buzzed, filling the space. Radcliff swiveled back to face his star player with a softer expression.
Quietly, he finished, “For now, we’re going to overlook this bizarre affair of yours. But, I want you to fucking focus, please. No more missing practice. No more trips to the White House. None of it! You’re on notice Wright. Now get the fuck out of here.”
A Stich In Time
The battle preparations broke like a flock of starlings. Hadrian spent countless hours training earth pilots to fly the Termarian attack hover. The military drills reminded the prince of his former life in his father’s organization. The long sessions with men in their prime made him long for the advice of his old mentor. He was continually asking himself -“What would Cox do?”
When Hadrian stepped into the halo-suite, the smells of Teramar’s great state forest wrapped around the prince like a favorite riding cloak. Ahead was Cox with a long bow riding high on his back. He gave his pupil a hard stare that said hurry up.
Hadrian’s own bow lay before him. The prince snatched the kit and jogged after his teacher. Cox nodded and turned into the deep wood. Hadrian could hear the halo-door shush and the sounds of the forest close round.
Today, the two were hunting an ursan, a dangerous bear-like creature that roamed the rocky hills along the mountains. Ursan meat was not particularly flavorful, but the beasts were cunning animals and hunting them presented an engrossing odyssey. As these creatures moved about in coordinated packs, experience told any hunting party to have at least two well-trained men on hand. The prince thought it was amusing that Cox always chose the most treacherous creatures for these adventures.
After an earth hour or two on the trail, the prince found the weapons master’s relentless pace difficult to maintain. Although Hadrian continued to regularly train in the New York City gymnasiums, those sessions were nothing compared to an open run through the forest for miles on end. He was out of shape by Teramarian standards. Sweat poured in large rivulets down a pale chest that rarely saw the sun these days.
“My lord, what ails you? You are running like an old woman.”
Hadrian provided a grim smile. “I am getting older than you think, Cox.”
The weapons master gave a commanding tick of his head and then drove even harder. “Asshole,” thought Hadrian with a smile. The prince could tell they were close to their quarry’s true stomping grounds with a well-worn ursan trail and fresh droppings before them. Slowly, the path led up an incline where they had to scale a rock-face to another level of the great wood. At the summit, they found the dinner remains for a pride of ursan. Flying insects and carrion birds still picked at the bones. The ursan pack had moved on, but their kill looked fresh. The birds refused to abandon the premises, carefully watching the humans.
Ahead was a small pond with a waterfall. The cool liquid rolled into a large stream. Parched with thirst, Hadrian raced to the edge. The cool mist was invigorating. He cupped his hands and started to drink in large gulps. The weapons master put his gear down and did the same.
“Not so much,” advised the teacher. “I promise you’ll feel cramps.”
Afterwards, Hadrian sprawled on the sand. He continued to breathe deeply. Cox rigidly sat on a fallen tree that acted as bench. Hadrian wondered if his mentor was current on the state of affairs. He asked point blank, “Do you know of my plan to remain on earth and engage mother’s fleet in the earth system?”
“Of course. And, I wholeheartedly agree. Beat them out here and return
thereafter.”
“I’m glad you agree that it is the wise choice. I was thinking, Archie, what if after the battle, I don’t immediately return to Teramar?”
“My lord, you must return to Teramar.” The weapons master was hard as old wood. Silently, the shadow of a large bird passed overhead. The creature made an annoyed cry demanding the humans decamp.
“I can order Jessica’s return with the starship to free father. News of the defeat should break the back of the Uriah rebellion.”
“The mission to retake Teramar will require your physical presence to rally the surviving forces. They have had a tough slog fighting off your mother’s people.”
The weapons master wore a serious look. He always had a serious look but this one was more severe than usual. He almost appeared appalled that Hadrian was even considering this course of action. He added, “Do you think your father will be in any condition to lead an army after months of captivity?”
Cox’s opinion was an utterly rhetorical exercise. The man had spent a life serving the Capets. He loved the king and would never understand otherwise.
Hadrian muttered, “My sister would be a better ruler than I.”
“Sire, you can’t mean that,” Cox said with alarm and anger. “You are the only male heir. It is your duty to return.”
“But, I can’t.”
The weapons master gave the prince’s shoulder a shove as if to say, “Snap out of it.” His expression was utter disgust. “Learn how to deny yourself certain things, my lord. That is the real measure of a man.” There was a knowing look on his face.
Hadrian carefully examined Archibald Cox’s unflinching eyes. There was something not right here. The prince remembered where he was. This was a damn halo-character with Jessica as author and editor. Cox was a hard man but he knew his old mentor loved him like a son. The real Cox would deliver the message but not like this. “Door,” he barked at her.
All Along The Watchtower
“The playoffs” eagerly sprang from capitalism’s gilded gate despite the impending end of the world. Professional sports was big business and the fans quite simply wanted their basketball. After a heady three-day road trip, Shayne returned to New York where he had cleared his schedule for an evening with Hadrian.
While Shayne jetted about the country on his team’s airplane, Hadrian earnestly threw himself into the enormous preparations required for the defense of earth. From dawn to dusk, he trotted to all ends of the planet evaluating and recruiting earth pilots, then teaching them how to fly a Termarian hover in the required formations. He had only five hundred machines at his disposal and therefore sought the most talented pilots no matter if they were a man, woman or child. In fact, the ever-objective Jessica found and lured a set of champion video-gamers onto the squad. She truly believed these children had the feline reflexes and prescient ability to roll over the Uriah pilots. Without question, the president signed an order to draft the young Americans and over the objections of horrified parents. New sacrifices had to be made to save the planet.
Tonight however, the young men had a rare opportunity to be alone. The two had not been intimate for weeks and Shayne was more than ready. The coming night carried the unspoken threat of the last time.
For obvious reasons, the two friends found it difficult to enjoy a simple dinner at a neighborhood restaurant or bistro. Under normal circumstances, autograph seekers intruded and snapped photographs. After the event at the White House, an evergreen host of government people now followed them although Jessica kept most of this entourage at bay with force fields and other means. Tired of public settings, the two friends chose to spend their precious free hours holed up in Shayne’s penthouse apartment.
The prince lounged in his undershorts – the usual exhibitionist. For the big man, the prince’s plump ass was like a baby’s fat cheeks – squeezable. Playing it cool, Shayne casually glanced at the scantily clad young man as he carried another round of drinks on a silver tray. Hadrian appreciated how Shayne’s eyes reveled in the old mischief. “My queen,” Shayne said with a wry smile and a flourish.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Good. You’re going to have another drink now.” Shayne held a dripping shaker and poured generous shots in large tumblers. Without speaking, the two boys raised their glasses to each other. “Wow, tastes good. I’m already getting a little tipsy from the wine you left in the bathroom.”
“I like tipsy. Time for some serious business. No more talking.” Shayne slid his hand over the curly legs with the firm squeeze of ownership.
“What else is on that tray?”
“Simple endurance. We’re gonna repeat our famous night.”
“I don’t know about that. The morning after was horrible.”
“We’re doing some,” Shayne answered with a clip to his voice.
Hadrian felt an unprovoked chill run up his back. “That was almost voice command. Could Shayne have learned to copy me?”
The prince provided an appreciative smile. “Who gave you the coke?”
“That creepy guy who follows Miami.”
“I hate that guy. His sleazy woman is always rubbing up against you. She pissed the shit out of me last time they were here.”
Shayne’s spidery hand glided down a downy thigh. “I love these,” he whispered more to himself. The prince opened - maybe, a little too eagerly. Hadrian then nervously grabbed Shayne’s shirt. Both embarrassedly smiled. “Too fast and too gay?”
And yet, that’s what the athlete wanted. No inhibitions. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s do a little.”
Shayne clattered about the tray, refilling the half empty tumblers. Without waiting for permission, he then meticulously divided the cocaine into even lines. After an encouraging nod, Hadrian grabbed the plastic straw without hesitation. Immediately, the background music seemed to get louder. The alcohol was coursing. Hadrian gladly jumped into the instant rush of euphoria. He knew what to expect this time. Then without words, the two merged into a cautious adagio. Hadrian occasionally stole glances at his friend. Shayne’s eyes were always open - watching. Impatiently, the athlete removed the prince’s jockey shorts in one smooth move. Shayne hissed, “I don’t need any fucking foreplay.” Thereafter, the two glided for hours in easy laps around a warm pool.
Early morning, the drug had mostly worn off. A tiresome anxiety invisibly snuck into the room and curled around the bed. Hadrian moved away from the wall to get closer to the enormous human furnace. He required the comfort of warm skin. Quietly, he considered the coming days. Without the time to make music, the prince felt obligated to lend his Guarnerius to one of Dorothy Delay’s students. He hoped that when all this was over he would be able to return to Julliard. He knew that was pipedream, however.
Following the United States Congress official declaration of war, both Hadrian and Jessica hurriedly presented their plans to the generals. Initially, the grey hairs quietly refused to take the prince seriously. One almost used the word boy with him. None understood that as crown prince of Teramar, training begins day one, when parents throw the new born into a frigid tub of deep water for the first lesson in survival - “Swim or die?” The prince’s near twenty years of life were easily equivalent to a veteran’s career in the American military.
Retrofitting earth’s weapons was indeed a race against a turning hourglass. Hadrian admonished himself for not choosing a course of action at an earlier date. “What a selfish naive fool I was.” The only one who truly understood his crime was Jessica who remained silent on the matter. Naturally, they visited all the important earth geographies, which included the famous cities and environmental shrines like the Great Lakes or Amazonian Rain Forest. At all of these sites, they installed imperial-grade shield nodes and pulsar cannons. Holographically however, Jessica could accomplish much more than the prince. The computer was in a thousand places simultaneously delivering demonstrations and answering questions.
The prince found earth’s military to be tr
uly competent. Initially, he worried their permissive society might spill onto the field of war. In reality, he found plenty of hardheads and backbone within the ranks. And as a bonus, the entrepreneurial spirit born in these people drove a few good ideas. At first Hadrian was annoyed by the endless questions. He thought they bordered on insolence. When he fully understood their ingenuity, Hadrian welcomed the discussion. Also notable were the women pilots and officers. “Alian would have put herself at the front of the recruitment line here.”
All the preparations supported the main priority of keeping earth’s population safe. He wanted to push the real killing into deep space. Hadrian and the Joint Chiefs unanimously agreed that the enemy had only a few tactical options available to them. With limited information on earth itself, the Uriah admiral would be forced to take a cautious approach. They simply did not have the manpower to overrun a planet with millions and millions of armed residents, especially in the United Sates were weapons were most prevalent.
As dawn’s light crept into the room, the prince continued to endlessly ponder the coming week. The residual effects of last night’s drug turned this into a compulsive exercise. Hadrian knew he would have to permanently relocate with the fleet. “It will be hard to say goodbye today.”
The giant’s deep breathing stopped, signaling he was awake. Shayne whispered, “You asleep?”
“No.”
Softly, he asked, “Why do you have to personally lead the battle?” Sadness laced the voice.
“You know why.” Frustrated with a situation he could not affect, Shayne released a gallon of air like a wind god. Aeolus himself would be hard pressed to replicate the angry squall. The athlete then proceeded to generate a series of disparaging sniffs and snorts. Each noise carried its own form of disapproval.
“Shayne, I’ll be the most protected pilot. Jessica will watch my every move. Ouuuuch,” the prince softly exclaimed. The long black finger slid to the edge.
“Feel good?”
“Now it does,” Hadrian whispered.
Teramar: The Gathering Night Page 32
