The Harvest Young- Bound by Love

by M. A. Church

  Giggling, Hamza jumped, and his dabba caught him. “Let’s track him!”

  “Fine idea, although I don’t know if that’s necessary. I bet he’s in the kitchens. And I bet Cook will have something tasty for a young who did very well in his training today.”

  “Will Atat get a treat too?”

  “I’ll make certain he does… later.”

  “Hamza?”

  He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. The refrain beat in his head, an endless cycle. He couldn’t lose his dabba. He depended on him, on his wisdom, on his thoughtfulness. There was still so much for Hamza to learn. He… oh gods, he wasn’t ready to rule. His chest tightened. The sound of harsh panting echoed in his ears.

  As king, his people would seek his guidance. But who was he to be giving out any type of advice? Sweat beaded at his hairline. Everyone would want something from him. Demand something. Or look to him for reassurance. How was he expected to handle all that? The thought alone sent his heart skittering.

  What if he screwed up? Or accidently made an ally mad? Or offended someone important? He needed his dabba to get off that fucking medibed and… and not be… be…. Darkness crept into his vision.

  “Hamza!”

  His chest hurt. His nose burned. If only he could draw a breath, then maybe he could… what? Make all this go away? Make it so his dabba was hale and hearty? Make it so his dabba was king, as he should be?

  “Love, please!”

  Hamza knew that voice, knew it as well as he knew his own. His mate was concerned, and he couldn’t stand the thought of worrying Neo. That was not acceptable. The raging panic backed off a bit. He gasped, air finally filling his lungs, and his vision cleared. Neo stood in front of Hamza, his face lined with pain. Sadness. And worry.

  “Neo?” He reached for Neo. An overwhelming sense of helplessness swamped Hamza, but the madness eased back. “Oh gods, Neo.”

  “Easy, love.” Neo glided into Hamza’s arms and pulled Hamza’s head to his chest. “Gods, Hamza. I’m so sorry.” Neo’s voice quivered. “So damn sorry.”

  Hamza whined quietly.

  “What about Jolak?” Neo tightened his grip on Hamza. “Should we, I don’t know, do something?”

  By all that was sacred, how could he have overlooked his atat? He’d lost his dabba, but Jolak had lost a mate. He pulled out of Neo’s arms, horrified by his self-centeredness, and flew around the medibed.

  Jolak’s cries continued as he rocked, still holding Duran’s hand. Only then did he recognize Jolak’s raw wailing was more than a painfilled racket. It was how his people sang loved ones on to the next plane of existence. Falling to his knees, Hamza grasped Jolak’s other hand, shoved his grief aside, and helped sing his dabba on to the afterlife.

  HAMZA HAD no idea how long they sang, but his throat was so dry it clicked when he tried to swallow. He’d lost feeling in his legs too. His atat slumped against him, finally silent, and Hamza wrapped his arm around Jolak.

  “Jolak? Can you stand?” Neo asked, hovering close by. “Can we…. Are you ready to leave now?”

  Jolak nodded, then closed his eyes.

  Neo’s anxious glance landed on Hamza, who watched as Neo helped Jolak up, then swept Jolak into his arms. Turning, he left the bleak room. Several royal guards fell in around Neo. Hamza remained on his knees, frozen. He had no idea where Neo was taking Jolak, which was something he needed to know, but his mind was heavy, and his thoughts moved like syrup.

  Keyno caught Hamza by the elbow and helped him stand. His legs cramped from being in one position for so long, but he ignored the discomfort. At least he felt something besides mind-numbing grief. Once he was on his feet, Keyno released him.

  A few unit seconds later, a cup of water was thrust in front of Hamza’s face. “Here. Drink.”

  After the first sip, Hamza chugged the rest. The sweet, clean taste on his tongue was refreshing. When he was satisfied, Keyno took it and returned with another full cup. Hamza downed it too and placed it on a nearby stand. “Thank you.”

  Keyno laid a hand on Hamza’s shoulder. “Go with them. Take a few unit hours to rest, to grieve alone, and to get your head back on straight. Go be with your family, Hamza. They both need you, and you need them.”

  “But, but… I should—” He waved at his dabba’s body. Wasn’t there protocol for this?

  “This is not something you need to do. Let me handle preparing his body.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.” But oh, he wanted to.

  “You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.” Keyno rubbed his hand up and down Hamza’s back. “He’ll have family with him during this time. He might’ve been my uncle, Hamza, but Duran was your dabba. Such memories will do you no good. I’ll contact you when Duran is… prepared. Please, let me do this for you.”

  Hamza rubbed his eyes. The warmth of Keyno’s hand seeped through his shirt. “I don’t know where Neo took my atat.”

  He couldn’t even keep up with his mate, how was he supposed to handle being king? Wildly he glanced around and noticed Gibor and Malk off to the side. How had Hamza missed them? What kind of Tah’Narian was he to be so oblivious? And where were the rest of his friends and family? “I don’t even know if everyone survived. Gods, I don’t know what happened to my own dabba!”

  “The guards will show you where to go. Also, Szin and Dayo are fine, as is everyone else. I promise. I’ll explain what happened after you’ve had a chance to rest. Go. I’ll handle things until the time you can take back over.”

  “That is permissible?”

  “I am of the royal family, so I can stand in your stead for a few unit hours. I have no desire to rule, you know that. You are the one who will take our king’s place, but for now? Go be a young mourning his beloved dabba. If anything should arise, if those females should dare to return, I’ll notify you immediately.”

  Hamza nodded. Right then it was all he could manage. “Thank you.” Fuck it. Maybe it wasn’t the Tah’Narian thing to do, but he flung his arms around Keyno.

  “Small steps, Hamza,” Keyno said quietly, hugging Hamza. “For now, small steps. We’ll….” Keyno cleared his throat. “We’ll get through this.”

  Hamza gulped at the hitch in Keyno’s voice. So lost in his own grief, he’d forgotten Keyno suffered also. His dabba was Keyno’s uncle. And gods above, he had no idea what Keyno had seen or had to do during the attack. “Are… are you okay?”

  “I am unharmed too. I promise. Now go.”

  Hamza couldn’t resist giving Keyno one more squeeze, then he moved away.

  Gibor joined them. “Your Highness, if you’re—”

  His stomach dropped, and Hamza grabbed Gibor’s elbow. “Oh gods, no. Not yet. Just… just Hamza. Just like always. I’m not ready for…. I can’t yet—”

  Gibor flinched. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Hamza. Come, I’ll take you to where Neo and Jolak are.”

  Grateful, Hamza let Gibor lead him away from that room full of death and heartache. Royal guards fell in behind them as they moved through narrow walkways. No one spoke, which relieved Hamza.

  The less he had to think, the better. Instead he focused on the drab walls. This part of the palace wasn’t used often since it was a bunker. Maybe that was why it was so cold. There were no polished floors, pretty draperies, or expensive knickknacks. If the royal family was here, then the cause was nothing good. Kind of like now.

  Gibor stopped in front of a plain door with guards standing in front of it, hugged Hamza, and left, taking the ones who followed them back with him. Hamza nodded to the remaining males and opened the door.

  The lights in the ceiling were set to low in the open living area. A simple couch and a small entertainment center graced the room. He stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with a swish. The floor was a stained hard surface covered with a rug to soften sounds. There were no pictures in gilt-edged frames. No windows to let in light. Off to the side was the kitchen area with a reduplicator for food and
other needs, along with a tiny table for dining. It was all very bare and so basic. And cold. So damn cold.

  Neo, sitting on the couch, unwound his legs from underneath him and climbed to his feet. He didn’t speak, just… waited. Hamza had never been so happy to see someone as he was to see Neo.

  He crossed the room, his feet moving of their own accord, and threw himself at Neo. Neo staggered but kept his balance. Wrapping his arms around Hamza, Neo held on tightly. One hand crept up Hamza’s back and buried itself under Hamza’s hair.

  The gentle grip on his neck helped ground him, but the screams of pain, of denial, stayed locked deep inside. How he wanted to cry, but there was nothing. Just nothing, except the black hatred growing within him.

  “I have you, love. It’s okay.” Neo rubbed his other hand up and down Hamza’s back.

  But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again. Hamza had lost his dabba, and nothing could change that.

  “I was worried about you.” Hamza forced the words past the tightness of his throat and burrowed closer, the heat from Neo’s body calling to him. Cold. So damn cold. Neo’s subtle scent wafted over Hamza, fighting the stench of death and fear, but it wasn’t enough.

  “I was scared stupid about you,” Neo admitted. “When I heard the palace and the Planetary Defense building were under attack, I damn near panicked. Hamza, I’m so—”

  “I can’t talk about dabba yet, Neo. It doesn’t seem real, and I can’t accept it, and gods above, how Atat wailed broke me, and what the hell am I going to do, and the palace took a major hit, and we must secure it, but so did other cities,” Hamza wheezed. It was hard to breathe. “And so many people are hurt or dead, and, and, and we’re at war, but we’ve been at peace since I’ve been alive, so how do I war against an enemy when I have no experience whatsoever?” He couldn’t breathe! “And, and, by all that is holy, everything is so, so—”

  “Hey, hey, I need you to calm down.” Neo let go of Hamza and leaned back. “You’re about to hyperventilate.”

  “I….” Hamza gasped. He started to shake. There simply wasn’t enough air in the room, and the walls were closing in on him. And fuck, why was it so cold? “I… it’s too much!”

  “Oh-kay, you’re going to sit down.” Neo pulled Hamza to the couch, pushed him down, and knelt beside him. He clasped Hamza’s wrist. “Too fast,” he muttered. “Your skin is like ice too. Damn.”

  “Where do I start?” Hamza jerked his hand free and leaped to his feet. Neo rose too.

  “Love—”

  “What about our fleet? What about our fighters? And what about the starships? How much damage occurred and how significant is it?” Sweat dripped into his eyes. How was that even possible when he was so fucking cold? He glared at Neo, who was now standing by the small dining table, digging around in a black bag.

  “The Onfre are here too. How could I have forgotten them? Do I need to officially greet them? I bet I do. How do I do that?” Hamza’s vison was going wonky again, but he plowed on regardless. “Fuck, I need Ti.” He jumped when Neo grasped his arm. “He’ll know what to do. He’ll tell me the protocol for—fuck! What… what did you just…. What was that?”

  “Sedative.” Neo placed the hydrosedative-spray on the table. “You’re on the verge of a panic attack and very possibly going into shock.”

  “How much of a sedative did you—well, shit.” Hamza swayed. Creeping fatigue washed over him. He blinked owlishly at Neo.

  “Time to rest, love.” Neo ducked under Hamza’s arm, wrapped an arm around his waist, and braced him. Together they stumbled toward another door off the living area. “Bedroom’s through here.”

  “You tranqued me,” Hamza accused. Holy shit was the room spinning now.

  “Sure did.” Neo opened the door and led Hamza to a bed. He eased Hamza onto it. “Down you go.”

  Hamza could barely keep his eyes open. All he wanted to do was sleep. “Not… not….” What was he saying? “Yeah. Not cool.” He sank into the bedding and groaned.

  Neo pulled off Hamza’s boots and then covered him with a blanket. “I know, but it was better than the panic attack you were heading for.”

  “Tah’Narians don’t have…. Tah’Narians don’t… um?” Hamza slurred. “What was I…?”

  “Oh bullshit. And as a doctor, that’s my medical opinion too.” Neo sat next to Hamza.

  “How’d it get so dark?”

  “It’s dark because your eyes are closed. Now, go to sleep, love.”

  “S-stay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  HAMZA LURCHED up in bed, his heart racing. Something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. The feeling nagged at him, refusing to be ignored, but he shied away. Whatever lurked at the edge of his mind was not something he wanted to think about.

  Off-kilter, he scanned the unfamiliar room. This was not his and Neo’s bedroom. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d never seen this place before. Where was he? Why was he here? And where was here?

  That nagging feeling turned into a tsunami of memories and images. Shit. Neo had knocked his ass out. How long had he been asleep? He swung his feet—where the hell were his boots?—over the side of the bed. Oh, wait until he saw Neo again.

  The door opened, and Neo leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “Before you start, I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again, just so you know. You were close to losing control, and that could be dangerous with your strength. So, if you must yell, go ahead and get it out of your system because I love you, and you needed help.” Neo paused, but Hamza only sighed. “No yelling then?”

  Hamza deflated. Yes, he was upset Neo had tranqued him, but how could he argue when Neo was right? “No yelling. You’re right. I wasn’t in control. But I reserve the right to do so later.”

  Neo grinned. “Sounds fair. Next, you’ve been asleep for three unit hours.”

  Hamza groaned.

  “Oh whatever. You needed it. I’ve kept an eye on Jolak too. He’s still asleep and probably will be all night. What I injected him with was stronger than what I used on you.” Neo came into the room, sat next to Hamza on the bed, and wrapped his arms around him. “I am sorry I sedated you without asking, but you were in shock and teetering on the edge of a panic attack.”

  “I know.” Hamza rested his head against Neo’s chest and allowed himself a moment to cuddle. A purr rumbled in his chest.

  He inhaled deeply. Neo’s citrusy scent calmed him, and the heat from his body seeped into Hamza, chasing the remaining coldness away. Those strong arms held him tightly and, for a brief moment, he allowed himself to take comfort from his mate.

  “And I do feel… well, not really better, but more in control,” Hamza said. “I’m not so cold either.”

  “That was shock, love.”

  “I figured. So, thanks.” Hamza squeezed Neo and pushed to his feet, taking Neo with him. “Update me on what’s going on?”

  “Keyno commed me right after I got you in bed and said he was handling everything. He asked me to let him know when you woke up, but they can wait a little longer. I want you to take some time to get yourself together first.”

  “I need something to drink. My mouth’s dry.”

  “It’s a side effect of the tranq, and I have water waiting for you in the kitchen. I put your boots over there.” Neo pointed. “I also fixed you food. And before you say it, I know you’re not hungry, but you need to eat. Doctor’s orders.”

  Hamza smirked. “You use that way too often when you want your way.”

  “You better believe it. Come on.” Neo took Hamza’s hand and lead him to the table. They sat, and Hamza sipped the water. Knowing Neo was trying to help, Hamza ate what he could.

  When he finished, Hamza rubbed at his eyes. “Just give me a few more unit minutes. I’m still a bit foggy.”

  “No rush. Would you like coffee? The caffeine would probably help.”

  “Gods, yes.” The delightful substance had been introduced to all of them by Dale. Not all of them liked it,
but Hamza had a weakness for it.

  A moment later Neo returned and set a mug in front of him. Hamza wrapped his hands around it, letting the heat warm his hands as he inhaled the aroma. “How did you know…. I mean, how did you know to come?”

  “The Royal Physician sent someone to get me from the hospital. We transported to the palace, but a guard met me. He brought me here.” Neo briefly explained what the hospital was dealing with when he got word and what he observed when he arrived at the palace.

  Hamza sipped from the mug. Neo wasn’t as fond of the drink as he was, but he still made a perfect cup of coffee. “Is my atat in there?” He pointed at another closed door. He wasn’t ready to think about the destruction awaiting him.

  “He is. Like I said, I’ve been checking on Jolak. He’s asleep. Would you like to peek in on him, though?”

  “Yes. I need to make sure he’s there, you know?” How could he explain the overwhelming urge to make sure his atat was alive, that he was still breathing? That he was whole, even if Hamza had seen him a few unit hours earlier.

  Neo stood and held out his hand. “I do.”

  Together they sneaked a quick look inside. Jolak was sleeping—just not soundly.

  Hamza closed the door. “Thank you.” He rolled his neck, popping it, and then followed Neo to the small living area. Neo sat while Hamza grabbed his drink, then he joined Neo, collapsing onto the couch. “Gods, Neo. I don’t know where to start. There’s so much to do.” What was it Keyno said? Small steps. Right.

  “I say we start by getting in touch with Keyno,” Neo suggested. Hamza dreaded to think what might be reflected on his face. “If you’re ready, that is.”

  The use of ‘we’ didn’t escape Hamza’s notice, and he appreciated what Neo was doing. It did help him feel not so alone, and right now, he needed that desperately.

  Hamza pressed his comm.

  Chapter Four – Neo

  IN ANOTHER room deep inside the bunker, Neo sat quietly as Keyno spoke to Hamza about the events leading up to the attack. He’d been at the hospital, so he’d missed what had transpired.