"They don't trust you."
"No. They don't."
Jason leaned his head against the back of the couch. "Ferran, I don't want to make returning to Perelan hard for you."
His lover shook his head. "It was always going to be hard. The tour is more than a gift to keep us content; it is a trial of our character. Not everyone can return to Perelan and reintegrate into society."
"What happens to those who can't?"
"They usually kill themselves. My older brother was one such."
"What!" Jason was shocked out of his exhaustion. He sat up and stared at Ferran. "Why did he do that?"
"He said he missed the stars."
"You have to go." Jason's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. "You have to leave. Right now."
"No, no..." Ferran extended a hand towards him, his voice soothing. "I am not like him. I will not hurt myself. The only thing that will damage me is being forced to leave you earlier than I must."
"Ferran..."
"Please, trust me. Trust me to know this much about myself." Ferran pulled his hand back to his chest. "Unless my staying hurts you. I never want to cause you pain."
"It's too late for that," Jason murmured. "You know, don't you? You can feel it."
"Yes. I love you, too."
"Damn it."
"Jason..."
"Come here," he said tiredly. Ferran came immediately into his arms and curled around him, almost protectively. "I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"For this, for us. I should have known better than to get involved with you. I did know better, in the beginning."
"Don't be sorry for us," Ferran whispered. "Would you really rather we never meant anything to each other? You are worth every challenge being with you brings me. I hope I'm worth it to you."
"That's not in question," Jason replied. "I'm just... hell. I'm just sorry. This is going to get very difficult."
"I know."
They stayed curled together on the couch for the rest of the night.
The final few days to Perelan were subdued for Jason. He didn't give Ferran up, to the obvious discontent of his cousins, but he didn't lose himself in him like he had before, either. He couldn't. He was too busy mapping his lover's body, fixing it in his memory and trying not to think about what he was heading back to on Perelan. An arranged marriage. So he could be a glorified servant. That was probably unfair, but then Jason wasn't feeling like being fair. He felt like taking the ship to Jacksonville and shutting the two of them away in his house forever. He felt like showing Ferran all the places he'd never been to, of taking him back to the home system. He felt like staying in bed and never having to get out again. All lovely thoughts, and all completely impossible.
Their last night together was incredibly tender. Jason spent hours making love to Ferran, teasing him and opening him and taking him, and then he gave himself for the first time. He hadn't bottomed often, not even with Blake, but Ferran had been slow and cautious and so, so gentle, and it had been wonderful. Ferran had curled around him like he always did afterward, but this time his grip was tight, and he murmured muffled words in his language into Jason's hair. Jason wanted to ask him to translate, but he refrained. It probably wouldn't help him to know.
The next day, the Silver Star docked at the trading station in orbit around Perelan. The station's manager came to meet them, and welcome the three wayward travelers home. Jason was on hand to greet her and farewell the Perels.
He had already said a more emotional goodbye to Ferran that morning in bed. Neither of them had slept for more than an hour, and his lover's eyes were dilated and slightly panicked. "Not like this," Jason said firmly. "You have to pull it together and convince me you're going to be okay or I'll never forgive myself."
"I am sorry," Ferran said. "It's harder than I thought it would be."
"Yes." Jason didn't have to say I told you so; he got no satisfaction out of it.
Ferran shut his eyes briefly, and then unclenched his hands from Jason's pillow and relaxed some. "I'll be fine."
"Better."
"I miss you already."
There was nothing Jason could really say to that. He pulled Ferran into his arms and held him close for a long time, breathing in his lover's exhalations and pausing every so often to kiss him.
He couldn't do that now, at the gate, not if he wanted to maintain any sense of dignity. The manager was a Perel, and undoubtedly empathic enough to know what was going on, but he felt no desire to break down in front of her. Jason shook hands with Neyarr and Parrel, and then it was Ferran. Eyes down, Ferran leaned in and touched their temples together, and then clasped his face in a lover's caress. Jason did the same, ignoring the offended yip from one of the other Perels, and then pressed a kiss to Ferran's cheek. They parted, Jason looked at him one last time, and then he turned and walked back into the ship.
Jason turned command of the Silver Star over to Florence, who, for once, didn't have anything to say. He took a small passenger cruiser to Hadrian's Rock, where his personal ship was berthed, loaded it with supplies, and then made his way back to Jacksonville. It took less than a week, but it felt like much longer to Jason. He barely slept, keeping himself alive on stimulants and vitamin injections and flying constantly. He was fortunate that there were no storms on the surface when he touched down inside his compound, because he probably wouldn't have navigated them very well.
Jacksonville was remote, a dying community on a deadly planet. Those who stayed did so because they had the means and they'd found something to love in the beautiful savagery of the place, not because it was in any way convenient. For the first time since he left Perelan, Jason started to feel again. It wasn't comfortable. He moved through his rooms, exhausted feet hitching slightly on the hardwood floors, his hands moving over everything he owned, as though trying to convince him that it was enough to have things and not Ferran.
Jason stayed out of the greenhouse. He couldn't go in yet and see the butterflies. He went onto his deck instead, little more than a strip of concrete and a foot-thick metal railing, and watched an electrical storm move in. All the storms of Jacksonville were dangerous, but the electrical storms were something special. They combined the power of thousands of lightning bolts with the beauty of royal purple clouds, cerulean skies, and the pale green mist of the crashing ocean. It was suicide to stay out during one of them, but Jason felt oddly detached from his body. The rain poured down, hitting him like nails, but his face was already wet. It rained, and it thundered, and the sky broke into a million bright and jagged pieces above him, and all he could do was mourn.
When the hail came, he felt himself begin to bruise, and reluctantly reentered the house. A few moments later, his deck was inundated with enormous hail, splitting into slush against the concrete until enough was built up so that every new piece was cushioned on the bodies of its brethren. Jason stayed and watched, soaking wet and shivering, until the storm let up an hour later. His shoulders and head stung with the hail's impact, and he reluctantly headed into the shower.
Jason had done something similar when Blake left him, deliberately given himself over to the fury of a storm. It seemed like a fitting way to say farewell to a piece of himself, and the last time he'd done it, he'd felt... different. Better, a little more at peace. This time, he only felt sore, tired, and the need and the anger inside of him were still there, not exorcised like he had hoped. When sleep came, it was like it had been before, filled with Ferran, and he woke up to a bleakness that clenched his heart tight and wouldn't let go.
People very rarely visited Jacksonville, and no one had ever visited specifically for Jason before. He couldn't quite believe his ears when the colony's control tower hailed his home's com. "Who wants to meet with me?"
"It's a Federated Colonies diplomatic cruiser, sir, currently registered under Ambassador Giselle Howards."
Jason's lungs froze for a moment. "She's assigned to Perelan.
"
"Yes, sir."
Too many scenarios began to spin through his mind, and none of them were optimistic. "I'll open my compound for her cruiser."
"Yes, sir, thank you."
Jason closed the com and opened his compound's personal shields. Moments later a sleek, elegant cruiser was touching down twenty meters from his front door. It held ten people at most, but it held them in absolute style. He slipped on his sandals and went out to meet his visitors.
The Ambassador was a tall woman, taller than him by several inches, with dark brown skin and white hair trimmed very close to the scalp. She wore a blue silk pantsuit and a white silk scarf around her neck, and if Jason had possessed the energy to feel self-conscious about being seen in his simple cotton house clothes, he would have.
"Captain Kim," she greeted him, shaking his hand.
"Ambassador Howards," he replied. "Would you care to come inside?"
"Please." She followed him inside and took his invitation to sit down at the table. "No tea, thank you," she continued when he offered. "What we have to discuss hopefully won't take long."
"What exactly do we have to discuss?" Jason asked as he sat across from her.
"There's a situation on Perelan. A good situation," she quickly reassured him after seeing him pale. "For the first time in our combined histories, Perelan is considering opening itself up to new alliances. Formal alliances, requiring diplomats and negotiators. They are considering diminishing some of the tariffs that make trading so difficult, and allowing aliens with the right qualifications access to places on their planet that we've never seen before." She paused, clearly expecting a question.
"How does this concern me?"
"You, Captain Kim, happen to be the only person who is considered provisionally qualified by the Council of Matriarchs."
There was only one thing she could be referring to, but Jason wasn't sure he believed it. "Why, because I slept with a Perel?"
"No, because you're in love with a Perel," Ambassador Howards replied calmly. "Or so I've been assured. Your character was fully investigated before the Council would approve my coming here on their behalf, of course. Your first officer, Florence Zerenkal, speaks very highly of you. Your superiors with the Shimona Cartel say you're an exemplary captain, and the Perels who have personally interacted with you were impressed. One in particular."
Jason's throat felt dry. "Ferran."
"Yes. Matriarchs are strongly devoted to family, and they would never have considered letting one of their offspring go for more than a proscribed tour without a strong emotional commitment from their partner."
"Partner?" Jason mentally shook himself and tried to catch up. "This is about Ferran becoming my partner?"
"Yes." The ambassador pulled a document and a pen from her briefcase. "The Council is only willing to open their borders to someone who is as dedicated to them as they themselves are. In essence, you would be agreeing to an arranged marriage, Captain. You and Ferran would spend a year together under observation on Perelan while he learned the art of diplomacy, and, afterward, you would be responsible for accompanying him on all his missions on Perelan's behalf. You would have to give up your current job, of course, but you would be offered a position within the FC's diplomatic corps. It would mean a raise in salary and a dedicated cruiser and staff for the two of you." She tapped the film beneath her hand. "All the details are here. This is a chance to open new doors for an entire world, Captain."
"This is... Ferran and I knew each other for less than a month."
"If, after the year was up, you wished to end the marriage, it would be ended." She pointed at another line on the sheet. "You don't have to do this, Jason," she said kindly. "It's very irregular, rather archaic by Terran standards, and would greatly restrict your freedom for at least a year. If you chose to remain married, it would be considered a permanent bond. Divorce is unheard of on Perelan except in rare, pre-negotiated situations similar to this or in relationships that have devolved into abuse."
"And Ferran wants this?"
"Both he and his matriarch. He's to be a test case. The Council has apparently been waiting for years for someone to fit their requirements, and he actually approached them about the possibility right after he returned. There was some question as to his fitness due to familial issues, but he was evaluated and approved. Now, all you have to do is sign."
Jason looked down at the film on the table, words that would shape the rest of his life if he agreed to them. "I want to talk to Ferran."
The ambassador shook her head. "One of the requirements is that you sign before discussing it with him, as proof of good faith. Please be assured that this proposal wouldn't be here if he wasn't wholly dedicated to you." She sat back and folded her hands. Jason looked around and thought of everything he would be giving up in order to have Ferran. Then, he pictured Ferran, and a moment later he signed the contract.
"Excellent." Ambassador Howards signed her name below his as a witness, and then beamed at him. "I suppose you want to see Ferran now."
"Well... as soon as possible. Can we leave immediately for Perelan?"
"No, that's not necessary yet. He's here on my ship."
"What?" Jason felt the blood rush out of his head. "He's here, now? I could have discussed this with him?"
"No, you couldn't have. Good faith, remember? He was sure you would sign. The Council agreed to give the two of you some time here alone before sending you to Perelan. Shall I ask him to disembark?"
"Yes." Jason stood up from the table and walked quickly to his door, back outside into his compound. The door to the ship was already open and Ferran was running through it and toward him, and in another second, he was in Jason's arms, holding him desperately close.
"I knew it, I knew you would, I knew it, I knew," Ferran whispered, his voice catching roughly. "I love you, I'm sorry, I love you... have I ruined everything else?"
"No," Jason said. "Nothing's ruined." He cupped Ferran's face in his hands and kissed him. "Are you sure about this?"
"So sure," Ferran replied, kissing him back. "And it's... it's only for a year, if you decide you don't want me forever."
Jason smiled. "We'll see. It was a good safety measure to add, but I don't think we'll need it. I think forever suits us better."
Ferran beamed and kissed him again. "So do I."
I was seven when Mama married the human. Not married, exactly, because constructs can't marry. But they stood together in front of an old preacher who believed anyone that spoke had a soul and said forever. I held Mama's hand the whole time, wishing Daddy Frank could see me smile.
I'd liked him for a couple years. Mama was singing and waiting tables in a restaurant when he came in the first time. He tapped his way to his booth with a cane and then listened, rapt, the expression on his face like a man who had just witnessed a descending angel.
He came back a lot. Not every night, true. There were times when he was gone for a week or a month or two. But he always came back. I'd look up from where I was rolling silverware or just watching Mama, and he'd be there, his face turned toward her and that look of pure adoration on his face.
Mama went and sat with him when she could get a break. He knew she was a construct almost from the first. She told him a very abbreviated history of escaping the lab and finding work, not the easiest thing for a bear-construct. He told her about being a guitar man and traveling with shows most of the year. Her being a bear didn't frighten him like it might a sighted man. Mama made sure to play up the cuddly, care-taking mama-bear aspect at work. The humans found her to be something out of a storybook, with her blue dress and apron and sweet smile.
He let me sit at his table and tried to teach me to handle the guitar. But even with opposable thumbs, I still had bear paws.
Mama left the restaurant, and we went on the road with Daddy Frank. He owned a truck with a hand-made wooden vardo on the back, even though he couldn't drive it. He said his peopl
e had been gypsies in Europe so he used a gypsy wagon here. Mama sent in the money to get a driver's license right after we were free, so she told the kid he'd hired to go ride with the rest of the acrobats and took over driving herself.
Life was good with Daddy Frank. We traveled a lot of places with several different carnivals. He always had a nice little place to sing and play for tips. Mama joined him, and the money just rolled in, he said. Mama hushed him, saying it was bad luck to say so. We ate regularly, and I never had to roll silverware again.
I was sixteen the first time I saw another construct. He was about my age, slim and graceful, his long cat-tail balancing him as he danced. Long black hair poured down his back, like a mane against his tawny skin.
Daddy Frank had sent me off on an errand down the midway of Consolidated Shows, the carnival we were with that year. It was a bad operation, with every joint rigged, paper hangers and dips all over the midway. But they had good, solid rides and a terrific freak-show. Mama had let me join that one this year. They billed me as "The Teddy Bear Boy." I made about six dollars a week, sitting in a chair, dancing a little to some Big Band, and selling pitch cards along with tiny teddy bears in pants.
I saw the construct and stopped there on the midway, not remembering my errand, not caring that we were ten minutes until opening. He danced on that stage like a wisp of golden flame. I wanted to watch him forever. I wanted to talk to him, to get ice cream with him, to watch him dance, to dance with him, although my great clumsy bear paws wouldn't match his grace. I wanted to kiss him.
The thought surprised me, and I dropped the bucket. I'd never wanted to kiss anyone except Mama and Daddy Frank. I sure didn't want to kiss this boy that way. I picked up the bucket and hurried off for the radiator water Daddy Frank had sent me for.
I thought about him all the way to the water pump, wondering how his hand would feel in my paw. Maybe all smooth and velvety like paws of the kitten the Siamese twins had. They were pretty girls, and they had a little smoke-gray kitten that was part of the act.
Wild Passions Page 20
