by A. C. Katt
“I may be qualified to administer the Challenge, Dr. Bane, but I refuse,” Juraens stated unequivocally. Mark watched the Sarrans and fought to keep his mind free of the new intruder. He tried reasoning. ::Look, I need all of my faculties, right now. Give this up, and I swear I’ll deal with you later.::
::You will deal with me later.:: The mind voice oozed testosterone, dominance and tenderness at the same time. It drove Mark nuts. The haze eased.
Commander Saxon addressed Juraens. “Officer Juraens, this is an unusual situation. As much as I agree that this is neither the time nor place for a Tribunal, the Codex dictates that these circumstances give Flagen a hearing within a rising.” Saxon’s words came to an immediate halt and his eyes opened wide as he looked beyond Juraens.
“I believe I am qualified to head a tribunal, Dr. Bane.” The new Sarran Warrior said, stepping out.
Mark was done with the bullshit. “Who are you? What are you doing on the Bridge?” Mark demanded. ”And why have you lurked in the shadows despite the fact that you arrived with Officer Juraens near the beginning of this farce?”
“High Prince TeZarron, Lord…”
Mark watched as Bane tripped over himself in obeisance. He shook his head in self-disgust. How could I have gone there?
::Love, they drugged you. You couldn’t know the difference between what you felt and a real Bond. Bane drugged you almost as soon as you came aboard.::
::Who are you? Get out of my head!:: For an instant, he let his iron control slip and rested his head against the back of the chair. He opened his eyes and Saxon was addressing the Chief. It felt as if he had acquired double vision, Chief Kassan, a barrel chested humanoid with huge arms, was superimposed over a Sarran Warrior of indeterminate age and aristocratic bearing. This is the incognito Elder with the offspring, who has enough psi to employ suggestive illusions. He has the talent, but he’s not the one making my knees quake.
::You’re right, love, it isn’t TeZarron. He is the youngest elder on the council and BondMate to TeBron. Hi-Psi count, literally off the chart. Only four talents like his on Sarran. Now with you, there are five. And only I can make your knees quake.::
::Look, just tell me who the fuck you are. I feel you in this room.:: His icy control spent; Mark longed to give it all up to this Sarran and he didn’t even know who he was. Mark gripped the chair until his knuckles were white. The mental hoops through which his mind had leaped took only parsecs. He hadn’t missed a line of dialog from the drama on deck.
“Why certainly, Lord, I’ll just get my kit…” Bane said to TeZarron.
TeZarron doesn’t seem to buy that, Mark mused. His repugnance for his former “Bonded” revved up with each word Bane uttered.
“That will not be necessary, Dr. Bane. I have my own,” TeZarron answered.
“Why wait,” Bane persisted. “You could use my kit and my brother’s case would suffer no prejudice from lost or gained opportunities to complete the Ritual?” Bane slithered closer to Mark’s chair. Mark tried to push up and away from the command console. His mind shouted in revulsion. I will not have him near me.
Juraens closed the distance between Mark and Bane, placing his face inches from his Bane’s and using his greater height as an advantage. “Your kit will be confiscated, Dr. Bane, so no one can tamper with it or switch it for Lord TeZarron’s. As for you, you are meeting my challenge, for my Bonded, Mark Stern.”
Another wave of dizziness passed over Mark. “You? Juraens,” Mark whispered. The Admirals had enormous respect and confidence in this Warrior, but at this point, he would trust his fate to no one but himself.
“Lord High Prince TeZarron,” Mark spoke in a firm but hoarse voice. “I wish to ask for the Rite of Dissolution…Mark suddenly lost his voice, and the last part of his plea was silent.
And you will remain silent on this issue until you obey. Codex has been invoked. Speak to this at the tribunal, not before, he finished the phrase in his mind.
::You are strong, Mark, but I am well trained and for the moment, at least, stronger.::
Mark felt Juraens willing him to silence. The heat and the overwhelming feelings of malaise began to subside as soon as Juraens broke into his mind. Mark continued, “Since Drs. Flagen and Bane are both challenged, I would propose that the Medical Bay become my temporary Quarters with no access save my own,” TeZarron said.
“Wait a son…” Bane shouted. “This new challenge is a ploy by the Admirals’ cronies to enable them to conveniently overlook my brother’s request. Officer Juraens still holds my brother responsible for a trivial, ancient incident. My brother, though cruelly beset, was innocent. Officer Juraens did not accept judgment. Here, he uses his friendship with the Admirals as revenge. I might also remind those present that Dr. Stern injected the contents of the vial into his own vein and became fully Sarran as a result. He recognized and accepted our Bond. There are no grounds for this outrage. Mark, for Goddess sake, tell them.”
“Rape of a femspring is not trivial, no matter how ancient a matter, even if unproven,” Juraens said. “There was enough evidence for your fathers to pull you out of lineage and deny you the courtesy title of Marquisate. As it happens, Bane, I have no issues with Flagen. I never suspected Flagen of the rape and murder of a femspring of only six risings. I knew it was you. You set him up.” Juraens visibly trembled, his hands clenched. Mark could read his body language. If he didn’t separate them now, Bane would be dead in an eye blink.
“Juraens.” The officer stopped and turned at the sound of Mark’s voice. Juraens was just as vulnerable to Mark as Mark was to him.
Mark spoke aloud to TeZarron, Juraens, and Bane. “Gentlemen, both Admirals Jonal and Tonas noted in their respective logs that the circumstances under which the vial was administered were not ideal. There were no other Warriors present, nor was there a witness. I think we need to follow the Codex, so that there are no future questions.”
Bane moved as if to grab Mark and protest. Juraens countered by stepping in front of Mark.
“Dr. Bane, cease!” TeZarron commanded. He looked at Bane with disgust, “Legally, I could just declare the Bond void and allow both you and Juraens to court Dr. Stern. I am being considerate of the Bond you claim to enjoy by letting Juraens challenge it, instead of declaring it null. Do you understand me?” TeZarron voice thundered.
“Yes, Lord,” answered Bane, his voice dark.
“Juraens, wait in Security until I give you leave,” TeZarron ordered.
“Yes, my Lord,” murmured Juraens.
“We are four risings out from Sarran. I want all of this cleared up before we land. In consideration of Dr. Flagen, you will move Dr. Anya Forrest of EarthClan to suitable Quarters with chaperonage. Since we will be short medical staff because of these proceedings, Doctor Forrester may resume her profession, if she so desires.”
“And what of Tonas,” asked Flagen. “With a pending challenge, would you leave Tonas with a BondMate who has been challenged, Lord High Prince?”
“Yes, Dr. Flagen, I will. As Commanders Saxon and Lunas must serve on the Tribunal, someone needs, as noted by Dr. Stern, to take charge of this bucket. It is their bucket, so I’m putting them in back in charge. They have been together for ten cycles, Dr. Flagen, certainly one more night will not cause you undue dislocation. The matter is closed.”
“A word, Lord,” Mark asked.
“Go ahead,” TeZarron said.
“Might I suggest, sir, that Anya be placed with Syn.”
“Syn, Dr. Stern? You refer to that somewhat archaic Earthen notion that humanoid behavior is rewarded or punished by inhuman means?” TeZarron asked with one raised autocratic brow.
Mark laughed, almost at ease for the first time since viewing the security holo. “No, High Prince TeZarron, Cynthia Sinclair, an Earthen fem with the nick name of Syn. Fem Sinclair has a feline companion, Duchess, a pure white, longhaired Beast. If you are familiar with Dr. Forrester’s Tigger, you may have also noticed The Duchess. The Chief had a f
ondness for the two of them.”
“It shall be as you say, Dr. Stern. Gentlemen, the tribunal of Dukes Saxon and Lunas and Baron Sepsis will convene at 09:00 tines to begin to review evidence. I will state for the record that I would prefer this matter resolved without resort to drugging any of the Earthen involved.” TeZarron began to bark out orders.
“Dr. Stern, call your Security Second to organize a party to remove Dr. Forrest from Admirals Quarters. I will accompany that party as I imagine it will take a position of my weight to accomplish that feat. I will give you one tine to organize that party for me.” Mark watched as TeZarron turned to Bane and Flagen.
“A tine, High Lord…” Bane’s protest died a sudden death as the High Prince’s face contorted in anger. He and Flagen saluted and left the Bridge. With Bane removed from the area, Mark’s breath came a bit easier. Although still in the throes of what he now recognized as true BondStir, the burning pain had left once Juraens made his declaration.
“Permission to leave the Bridge, sir.” Mark intended to use some of that tine’s reprieve that TeZarron had given him to warn Jonal and Tonas what they faced. The WarriorPair were stalwart friends in this new environment and he would help them, using any means necessary.
“A moment of your time, Stern,” TeZarron laid his hand on Mark’s arm thus preventing any exit. TeZarron led Mark toward the small security office Mark left an eternity ago. They stopped at the door. “Juraens is waiting in Security for you on my order. I wish you to give him fifteen mots of your time.”
“Is that honorable, High Prince, given the circumstances?” Marks prior thoughts of his friend’s pain infused his question with more sarcasm than he intended.
“Mark, you are now a Sarran, but long before you became one of us, you were a Warrior, a silent Warrior. You served your time in much the same manner as Officer Juraens and I have served, in cold, dark places, away from the light of family and friends and most of all, away from the comfort of love, because you couldn’t afford it. On Sarran, usually that burden is lessened because it is a burden shared. This is the first mission I have ever undertaken without my Bonded, TeBron. He stays with Nafer, our offspring. TeBron and I lost our fem and our femspring to the Ipz. There was a reason for the partial block back in your Central Park. We are engaged in a battle for our existence, not just Sarran existence, but the existence of the humanoid genetic type—thinking sentient individuals rather than swarms. You must know what is at stake here.”
“I could have been more fully briefed, sir, and permitted to accompany you without the Bonding. To allow Bane that kind of entry into both my psyche and my personal space, while letting me believe it was real, was a dishonorable act that is unworthy of your race, Sir.” Mark emphasized the Sir with all the contempt he could spill into one word. “I am aware I agreed to the block, but I didn’t give anyone permission to screw with my emotions.”
“Morgan told me you were a rogue. He didn’t approve of you. He said you wouldn’t blindly follow orders, and you thought too much. Fortunately for you, Stern, Sarran needs more Warriors like you, not less. Warriors who think are Warriors to whom honor is real and glory is secondary to justice. I’m going to remove that block now. You are here on your own insistence. You volunteered for this duty, Dr. Stern. It is your right to reconsider your position once we remove the block. Sarran needs you and so does your BondMate. As I said, you are Hi-Psi, untrained, but the potential for greatness is there. To join in a true mating with someone as honorable as Juraens would enrich both your life and the lives of all around you. May I place my forehead against yours and my hands to your skull?”
“Yes, Lord.” Mark said, abashed at his lack of control. He centered himself using techniques he had picked up while stationed in the Far East. TeZarron pulled Mark to him and placed his forehead against Mark’s own. Large hands circled his skull and applied intense pressure, but TeZarron wielded it as precisely as he used a surgeon’s scalpel. Mark felt the slip, a knot came undone. He sank back into the chair. Like the cascades of a raging river, memories churned around him, loosening heretofore sunken and solid rocks now carried in a cleansing flood, leaving bare the truth below.
* * * *
It struck him now. The scene played out before his eyes. At the hospital, he had been attracted to Bane, physically, that much was true. When he agreed to accompany the Sarrans, it was not Bane that drew him. The night of the evacuation, he had sensed more from the Sarran entourage. He recollected the voices in his head, first one and then many. Mark thought at the time that he was losing his mind. Since he had left his parent’s custody for the governments, he had never heard another mind voice. The others enrolled in the program could only send or receive pictures and impressions. Once he realized he was different, even among the unique, Mark was quick to hide any further progression of his abilities. It was the conscious realization that the voices he heard in the ER the night of the evacuation were actual conversation and not his imaginings that put him on the Bridge of the Brightstar.
Mark chose freely. Yes, he had blacked out on the floor of Manhattan General ER’s ambulance bays. He had fainted from the overwhelming tide of emotional need and sexual heat caused by the arrival of his true mate, Juraens. When he awoke, Juraens was at his side. They had only a few short tines together to cement a rather fragile Bond, the first in history cemented between Sarran and an off worlder. They Bonded, in form and fact, with TeZarron as witness. In those few tines, Mark and Juraens spoke mind to mind. The meld was so strong that Mark was became aware of the import of the Sarran mission to the survival of humanoids. It was Mark’s idea to use himself as bait. A non-Sarran humanoid with an off-chart psi rating would tempt traitors as quick as beer-lured slugs. Anti-Sarran Council, Zyptz collaborators, and Sarran traitors would drown in a vat of their own brew like the slugs they imitated.
The plan appealed to the maverick in Mark, but it required the block. Juraens had argued against the plan. However, when consulted, TeZarron had agreed that the chances for success would increase exponentially with Mark’s participation. Juraens, with the example of TeZarron sacrifices, did as honor required and acceded. His last sight of his lover and BondMate of only seven hours was Juraens taking his hand and turning it to kiss his wrist, at the pulse. He said, “Please, my love, try to remember this and not hate me when it’s done. I would forbid the use of you and kidnap you away from them all, if only it wouldn’t damage my honor in your sight.” The tent flap shut as Juraens left and Mark felt more empty and alone then he had since he left his family behind twenty-six years before.
Sometime later, he woke up for what he now knew was the second time. He remembered his head felt cleaved in two. Robert James Morgan, a man Mark wished he had never met, appeared at the side of his stretcher.
“You passed out, son.”
“I’m aware of that. Too much information, delivered too quickly,” Mark answered.
The flat eyes of the man who headed United States Military Research Projects on psychic phenomena peered back at Mark like he was an insect on a pin. He hadn’t acknowledged Morgan at Manhattan General and did not intend to play games with him now. ”Yes, they’re telepathic,” Mark answered the unspoken question in Morgan’s eyes.
“You’re going back with them.” Morgan stated this as fact. “Don’t get your ass in a crank, Mark. I have approval from the highest level.” Morgan chuckled, ”Since you were nine years old, you always got that look on your kisser when you were about to get ornery. Just listen to what the man has to say. You know you already decided to go. It wouldn’t hurt to show a little loyalty to the government that fed, clothed and raised you.”
“I owe you nothing. I owe this government nothing. You found me, took me away from my home, and educated me for a purpose, yours. I worked my ass off for the government from the time I was nine. I participated in all of your experiments and later, worked the field. No more, Morgan. Made the movie, bought the T-shirt. There are no sequels. Done.”
“Gener
al Morgan, may we have a few mots with Dr. Stern?”
It was at that moment in the instant replay of memory that the inherent weakness in his grand scheme hit Mark full force. Initially, Mark was unaware of the true nature of a WarriorBond. In the last few tines, he learned that losing Juraens would cut out his heart; by his agreement to the mind block, he condemned both himself and Juraens to a hellish half-life. If they were separated and the block remained, they would lose their minds.
TeZarron was the only person outside of his BondMate who could verify the true nature of Juraens' relationship. Mark’s mind played back his supposed initial Security Briefing with Jonal and TeZarron. They discussed the Ipz, the Plague, and their reservations about Bane. He gave them his fully informed consent to the block. He had embraced the chance of a new life away from Morgan and his cohorts and a future with Juraens. He longed for the life where he could settle and be just one of many who had talent. The Military controlled Mark by using those he loved as collateral against his good behavior. When his parents had finally passed, he left the agencies and vowed never to give them ammunition to use against him again. Once the block formed, Mark’s agile mind used logic to fill in the blanks.
He thought it had only taken Morgan to make up his mind and when Bane came straight to his side as soon as Mark had recovered; he saw as a bit of a sexual bonus. He saw clearly now that Juraens was the reason he felt no compulsion for completion with Bane. His feelings for Bane were complex. He was protective, like an older brother and unbeknownst to all but he and his would be lover, they had kissed, petted a bit, but never so much as exchanged fluids. Between them, there was always a reason why it wasn’t time. Now he knew why.
Mark’s head cleared, situated wholly in the present. He broke away from TeZarron. “You were there with Juraens and me. You were our witness. And since we’ve been on board, I’ve scarcely seen him. He’s deliberately avoided me, hasn’t he? You always knew Bane was a liar. And you knew, because of my Bond with Juraens, that Bane would not be able to violate me. Jonal warned me. He said that I wouldn’t be able to control my reaction if the Bond was real. And here, on deck, I couldn’t. Yet Juraens has, for tides. How?”
