This Work Is Part Of A Series (The Messenger Archive Book 2)

by DC Bastien

  [Sianor: That works. I'll tell you when I'm done.]

  [Sianor: Done.]

  [Ashroe: Almost.]

  [Ashroe: OK... 3.]

  [Ashroe: 2.]

  [Ashroe: 1.]

  [Ashroe: My baby isn't dead! That's my first thought. Even though you said you'd tell me, I still worried they'd kill him and you wouldn't tell me because you didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. So. PHEW. Secondly: there is no way those two didn't screw. I'm realising our headcanon now is a bit off, because they definitely had a break-up. And it wasn't pretty. Thirdly: Saidhe stop being mean to Ithon! Fourthly: I love glorious bastards. Fifthly: It was a bit of a cliché ending, but whatever. It was campy, but fun. Sixthly: The Vaidhe shippers are going to be happy. In conclusion: Yes. I loved it. It wasn't quite as sharp as his first episode, but they didn't screw his characterisation over, so that pleased me. And there's scope for more, and maybe more backstory. Fin.]

  [Sianor: Why didn't I love Ithon before writing the last fic? Why? Why could you see his fabulousness but it took me time? I don't know, but I'm glad I love him now. He was as snarky and wonderful as ever and I want to squish his cheeks and feed him smores. And HOW slashy was it? Like, any more and they'd need lube. Saidhe is utterly jealous of their Past. Which deserves a capital. I thought the story-line was alright. Nothing awful, but nothing special. If it didn't have Ithon's sharp wit in, it might have been a bit less punchy. And if more people don't ship Vavery soon, I'm going to SCREAM.]

  [Ashroe: We're never going to be a big pairing, you know that, right?]

  [Sianor: Yeah, but a few more shippers to squeal over and reblog from wouldn't go amiss.]

  [Ashroe: I don't dare look at the Avery stuff if you don't post it in case it's hate.]

  [Sianor: Yeah, what's with that? Why hate on a character? I mean neither of us liked Amita, but you don't see us cursing her out, or writing her as a date-rapist, or anything like that.]

  [Ashroe: Some people can't work out that people with differing goals aren't always 'evil'. Hell, even the devil was once an angel.]

  [Sianor: Oh, you're not going to make me sympathise with the devil, are you?]

  [Ashroe: Not in this fic. Maybe in another fandom. He is a very maligned character, a victim of circumstance and necessity, though. Tragic.]

  [Sianor: Let's not get onto the subject of religion.]

  [Ashroe: Oh? Touchy subject?]

  [Sianor: A bit. Yes.]

  [Ashroe: My bad. No problem. I'm not anti-religious, before you worry. But I'm not religion-or-atheism-pushing, either.]

  [Sianor: Good to know. Just... another time, maybe?]

  [Ashroe: Sure thing.]

  [Sianor: The urge to write that historical thing of their break-up is becoming impossibly, impossibly strong.]

  [Ashroe: You will CRY.]

  [Sianor: I know.]

  [Ashroe: Doesn't mean: don't do it. Just... have tissues ready.]

  [Sianor: Would you... want to write it with me? I'm not sure if I could get Ithon as good as you can. I could write it from Kip POV, but...]

  [Ashroe: We could interlace. Like, have sections from either character. Just for a bit more variety, if you'd like.]

  [Sianor: Oh, so we'd round robin it instead of role-play?]

  [Ashroe: Yes! I do like playing about with narrative styles.]

  [Sianor: But... when we've finished this one. Maybe between this and the next one.]

  [Ashroe: You realise it likely won't be short, don't you?]

  [Sianor: I'm counting on it. You are my word-coach. My... muse. In the traditional sense, not in the 'voice in my head cray-cray' kind of way.]

  [Ashroe: That is without a doubt the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Ever.]

  [Sianor: It's true.]

  [Ashroe: I'll gush! I will! I'll get up and give an award-style thank-you speech!]

  [Sianor: You can't cope with sentiment, can you?]

  [Ashroe: Does it show?]

  [Sianor: A little.]

  [Ashroe: Shit. I'll try to hide my sociopathy more efficiently.]

  [Sianor: Can I psycho-analyse you, now?]

  [Ashroe: I'm... afraid? And vaguely aroused?]

  [Sianor: I don't want to upset you.]

  [Ashroe: Damnit, woman. I'm curious. Curious like a cat. You can't dangle carrots like... okay, bad analogy. You can't dangle cat-nip like that and expect me not to bite.]

  [Sianor: You don't open up enough. Not to me. I mean to other people.]

  [Ashroe: True. What makes you say this, though, Doctor Freud?]

  [Sianor: I think you love what you love, but you hold it inside because you don't want to be bullied about it. I think you would rather present a work-face, than face possible taunting. And I think it's why you spend so much time with me. Not that this is a bad thing, but because... because you feel freer sharing when you know the rules already, and when you can back away or don't have to hide your facial expressions, and worry that they will give you away.]

  [Ashroe: Interesting. And you know this isn't projection and transference because...?]

  [Sianor: Because I do it, too. Because we both do it. It's why we get on so well. We're creatures of words on screens. Like some people want subtitles on the television, or other people can't work with the radio on... we communicate best when we're typing.]

  [Ashroe: Which is... true. Does that mean I am a high-functioning technopath?]

  [Sianor: That's one way to look at it, yeah.]

  [Ashroe: Does that mean ALSO that when we hook up - meet up - whatever - that we'll be emailing one another in the same room?]

  [Sianor: Some of the time, I think we will :) Especially if we're writing.]

  [Ashroe: And you wouldn't think it was weird?]

  [Sianor: No. I like talking to you like this. It might be weird if we never spoke aloud at all, but if we were both messing about online and chatting, it would be fine.]

  [Ashroe: I think my mind just exploded.]

  [Sianor: In a good way?]

  [Ashroe: In a very good way. I... I really do care a lot about you, you know?]

  [Sianor: I know. I do too <3]

  [Ashroe: I suck at saying it. But you... you make me smile. I get up and go to work because I know I can come home and talk to you. I bounce behind the wheel of my car because I've thought of some evil thing to do to our babies. I have a bad day, or I see a stupid post, and I... I can talk to you about it. This... okay this sounds like I value our relationship based purely on things I get out of it.]

  [Sianor: So? It's not like it's parasitic. A relationship should give both of you things.]

  [Ashroe: Why is someone a fraction of my age schooling me? Ugh. I feel so useless.]

  [Sianor: Hey, I only came to these conclusions by talking to you. I think if we hadn't met, I'd still be awkwardly saying 'hi' in class and then vaguely commenting on others' works and not interacting much more at all.]

  [Ashroe: Score one for me.]

  [Sianor: Score well more than one.]

  ***

  "I have to contact my father," Kre insisted. "I have to speak with him, and convince him to stand down."

  "And speaking to him will help... how?" Nessin asked.

  "If this is his attempt to blackmail me into accepting his offer, then I will tell him it won't work, and that he must release my friends."

  The Hleen tapped the stylus to her lips, mulling that over. "What if he won't? What if he keeps them as hostages until you accept?"

  "A forced succession won't work, and he would know that. As soon as I was in power, I would abdicate."

  "Even if Eru were out of the picture?"

  "Yes," she said, but her voice wavered slightly.

  "The hesitation, right there, says otherwise," Nessin replied. "And let's not forget he could outright lie and say he doesn't have them, or he truly might not have them."

  "If he does not, then I will address Eru."

  "And if talking to him gives the game away?"

  "What do
you expect me to do?" the Sianar asked, throwing her paws up in the air in a gesture of frustrated defeat. "I do not want to be the Za! I will want it even less if it is forced upon me! And by now, the fact I have been missing for years will mean that no Sianar will trust me as their new leader!"

  "True. There's also the part where you'd be bargaining for a Roq's life. Even if there's nothing between you, people will pick up on that. Make... assumptions. Insinuations."

  "What?"

  Nessin shrugged. "Your love of Roq might well be taken as a love for... specific Roq. And your single status would also indicate that you're not interested in providing an heir."

  "So they would assume I am in love with Loap simply because I wanted to save his life?"

  "If you were willing to gamble with the future position of Za over him, yes." Nessin's voice was utterly matter-of-fact. "Your leadership will be cast into shadow. You may never recover."

  "I thought you wanted me to take the mantle?" Kre asked. "Isn't that what this was about?"

  "I didn't know all the facts, then," Nessin shrugged. "I've looked into it more. Eru would seem to be a more stable force for your people. She has the strength, the drive, the cunning."

  "So why don't you tell my father that?"

  "Because she's also very... dangerous. She's unpredictable. She will always act in her own best interests. Perhaps we can't manoeuvre you into position... unless you take a stance."

  "A stance?"

  "Yes. Build your image up the right way. Make a bold, public statement. We could put a spin on your sabbatical as you learning about the universe on your own. Finding your way, discovering what it meant to be you. Exploring how the modern Sianar lives, so you can act as the voice of your people... yes. Yes, I like it."

  "Your opinion changes as often as the wind does."

  "So does the public opinion," Nessin replied, aloof. "But that's not a problem. If you have the right image pushed out there - by the right people - you win. You win."

  "But I don't want to!"

  "Listen, my dear, if Eru gets in, do you really think she'll be progressive? No. She'll push the Sianar back generations. You... you'd have to get in and get the people's loyalty first, but when you did? Then - then - you could make a difference."

  "Do I even have a choice?" Kre asked, her heart breaking even as she asked.

  "Yes. You do: you, or Eru."

  ***

  "I still don't know why we're not going after the people who got shot at," Vadim grumbled.

  "Because: a) we don't know where they're going and b) because we don't know if we'd get them shot at some more."

  "How about: c) if we don't go, maybe they get shot at real good, and there's no d) find them eventually because e) they're dead."

  "You've got this whole multiple choice thing wrong, Kip," Avery pointed out. "Now: focus."

  "When my crew wind up dead--"

  "I will happily listen to you say: 'I told you so' and spank me three ways to Sunday-next. Alright?"

  The Captain grunted, and kicked at the chair some more. He was perched on the edge of the table, where Avery was playing with building blueprints.

  "Captain," Mes said, quietly. "I am not programmed to understand the intricacies of such situations, but I believe that the Enforcer is correct. According to our intelligence, Kre and Biann are simply held by a corporation. Saidhe and Loap may well be held by a head of state."

  "A head of state that made us both his Amanuensis...es..."

  "...'Amanuenses'," Avery supplied. "But that's not correct. I'm his Amanuensis. You're simply my spouse. Sort of... a diplomat's wife."

  "I am so not the wife."

  "And I am?"

  "No! Neither of us is the wife."

  "You were the one who brought up traditional gender roles, Kip. Are you compensating for something? Is it sublimation? Is there a secret love of transvestitism you're hiding from me?"

  "No! Not that there's anything wrong with that, or being straight, just-- would you stop putting words in my mouth?"

  "I could put something else there, if it would shut you up."

  "Avery!"

  "What?"

  Vadim nodded in the direction of the hopper, trying to indicate 'Mes' without saying her name.

  "Captain, I assure you, I am not prudish," the ship said, reassuringly.

  "Not the point."

  "Are you going to be this prudish whenever we make out, Kip? If it makes you feel better, we can find some completely shielded, underground--"

  "Let's stop with the sexy talk and get back to the plan talk," Vadim said, sulkily. "No nookie until my crew is back. Oh for the love of... not like that!" he added, to Avery's arched, coy look.

  "Fine. No kissing in front of the kids: got it."

  "So we're trying to infiltrate the Tuadan Corp... why? Why can't we just go up and knock on the front door and ask if they've seen our missing friends?"

  "For one: you have a warrant out for your arrest. For two: do you really think that would work?"

  "Dunno. Sometimes the shock tactics do."

  "How are you still alive?"

  "I assume it's my stunning personality, and my charming face."

  "...yes. Well."

  "This is when you encourage me politely, you dick."

  "You do have a nice dick."

  "I'm afraid I cannot comment on the aesthetic value of his genitals, even though I have witnessed them," Mes added.

  Vadim put his hands over his crotch, as if it would help. "Hey! You're not supposed to look!"

  "I cannot 'not' look, Captain. I am passively subjected to all surveillance material."

  "Well, it's rude!"

  "I am non-organic. Your body is simply a matter of physical reality. I witness all of your bodily functions, Captain. If I were to watch you--"

  "Stop! Stop right now! I don't want to think about it! I'll piss out the airlock if you keep this up!" He had his hands on his ears, talking overly-loudly.

  "Mes, I don't mind you watching," Avery smirked. "So long as you don't report back on what we do to others. Or tell us about them. I really don't want to know what gets Loap's Roq-rocks off."

  "It would be unethical of me to share," Mes agreed.

  "So we're going to somehow finagle our way in? And when we're in there, how exactly are we going to find the missing furball and purple-eyes?"

  "We'll go in under the pretence of being there as staff, or potential interviewees. And then we'll assess the situation."

  "That does not sound like a good plan."

  "That's because it's not the full plan."

  "And the full plan?"

  "I'm not telling you."

  "Ith! If you're not telling me, it's because it's a shitty-ass plan!"

  "No, it's just that you're a very negative person at times. Isn't that right, Mes?"

  "Statistically speaking--"

  Vadim jumped up from the table. "No! No using science against me! I have enough of that from Kre. And you're not to gang up against me, Mes. He's not even crew!"

  "He has spent a significant amount of time aboard me, and his goals frequently align with your own. And you are - as you regularly state - 'mates'."

  "Just... fine. Plan. Whatever. Tell me when it's ready," he grumbled.

  "It already is," Avery assured him.

  "Then what are we waiting for?"

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Mission: Infiltration

  "This is the dumbest thing I have ever done." Vadim tugged at the stiff collar around his throat, wondering how long it would take to suffocate him. It felt like not very long. Why did anyone wear something so constrictive? How could it be considered fashionable? Why would anyone want to openly display their liking for pain to appear 'hip'?

  "I somehow doubt that," Avery replied, smoothly.

  The bastard was wearing a similarly pricey get-up, but he looked better in it than Vadim thought he did. It was all sharp, tailored lines that accentuated his broad shoulders, his
narrow waist and his pert little ass. The trousers made his long legs seem taller still, and he stared maybe a tad too long at Ithon as a result.

  "I told you the outfits would work."

  "We're not there yet."

  "No, but you're already ogling me. Imagine what eligible, frustrated singletons will do when they see us?"

  "Assume we're secretly boning?"

  "And wish they were in bed with both of us at once."

  "I was joking!"

  "Of course you were."

  "How am I supposed to stay in character in this role if I don't know what we're doing?"

  "That's your character."

  "It's a sucky character."

  "You're a sucky person. Fictionally speaking, of course."

  Vadim narrowed his eyes, but Avery wasn't looking. He felt ludicrous covered in so much makeup. He wasn't a makeup kind of a man, but his face was caked in a fine powder and several gels and the offshoot of something Ithon called 'pearls' but which looked like you should eat them instead, and his eyes were ringed like a panda's, or like Eru's. It was horrible. Ithon also said that the artistic impression of 'a man' on his face was meant to both blend them in to the high society, and conceal his true, law-breaking self. If the Ur could be fooled by a little bit of lipstick, though, maybe he should have turned to crime instead of legal means of earning a living wage a long time ago.