by M. A. Church
“Jolak was not taken, Hamza,” Neo said. “Not like my dad. There was no lottery system like there was on Earth. Dayo told me how his dad, Chad, was literally hauled out of his own home. So was Dale. And Dabba is right. Jolak didn’t experience that kind of terror.”
“There is a difference. Trust me on this, because I was there, Hamza. I saw what it did to John. And while I’m proud you’d offer me such a position, I don’t feel qualified to assume the role of a blood general. Please allow me to say no.”
“Of course. I’m disappointed, but I understand. Thank you for being honest with me. I never want to force you into something you’re not comfortable with.”
“Hold on to that mentality.” Doc leaned forward, tension lining his face. “You’re going to face many trials and tribulations. Don’t lose yourself to the darkness that is war.”
Uncomfortable, Hamza quickly turned the conversation to lighter subjects. They were laughing when the door swished open, and Jolak and John returned. Soon after, Doc and John bid everyone good night and left. Jolak also retired to his room.
Hamza, still sitting on the couch, leaned his head back. “That didn’t go as I expected. I wonder if Gibor and Malk will refuse also.”
“I don’t think they will.” Curling his leg under him, Neo rested against Hamza. “They spent much more time on the Bridge. My dabba’s territory was Medical. Engaging in war is not his area of expertise. Treating the bodies affected, now that’s where we medical types excel.”
“Excel, huh?” Hamza rubbed his hands over his face. “Gods, there’ll be more death if I do this.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have a choice, though. You know that, right? Even though I don’t want more killing, this can’t be ignored.”
“I know that, yes. Doesn’t mean either of us have to like it. War should be the last resort, not the first. Bloodshed can be addicting. That sense of power over life and death….” Neo pressed his lips together. “Dad called it the god complex, something doctors can fall prey to, but it can extend to others who hold a position of power.”
“God complex. Interesting.” Hamza yawned. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to just go to bed.”
“Why don’t we?”
“Because I need to meet with the Onfre. I can’t afford to put that off any longer and inadvertently insult them, especially since they sent aid.” Wearily Hamza sat up and moved away from Neo. “Don’t worry about waiting up. I have no idea when I’ll be back.”
“You don’t want me to join you?”
Hamza cocked his head. “I assumed you were ready for bed.”
“I’d like to be there, as a show of support.”
“I’d appreciate that. It’s settled then. Come with us.”
“Us?”
“Keyno will need to be there—as my warlord, as a male with more experience, and finally, as someone I trust. He has experience dealing with the Onfre. Plus, he’s friends with Ti.”
“Comm him then.”
STANDING ON the transportation pad of the Beylord II, Hamza secretly prided himself on the fact he was one of just a few ever allowed on an Onfrevian ship. Keyno was off to Hamza’s right and Neo to his left. Before them was Ti. Even though Hamza had grown up around Takeo, Hamza never truly adjusted to how different the Onfre were in appearance to him.
Ti was just as tall and muscular as a Tah’Narian male, but his skin was silvery-white. Dale had once compared the color to snow from Earth, and then had to show them all what snow actually was. It was a marked difference from the tan skin of the Tah’Narians.
Ti’s eyes were shaped like diamonds with red vertical pupils. His fangs, when showing, were wickedly pointed and sharp. Many times Hamza had seen Ti’s forked tongue flick out to taste the air. And the Onfre had a tail like Tah’Narian males, but it was much broader and thicker.
“King Hamza, welcome aboard the Beylord II,” Ti said, bowing slightly. Another Onfrevian stood beside Ti. “King Consort Neo and Captain Shou, welcome also.” Then Ti grinned, exposing his fangs. “Be at peace here, my friends. I welcome you as honored guests.”
Keyno stepped off the platform and threw his arms around Ti. “Thank you, my brother.”
Ti hugged Keyno back. “Once more we seem to be the catalyst of change, my brother.”
Hamza swallowed hard. The love between the two was noticeable, but it was not sexual. No, it was more spiritual, created in the searing heat of betrayal, unfailing trust, and the bonding of males of a different species who once hated one another. It was the love of brotherhood.
“True,” Keyno laughed, ending the hug. He studied the transporter room. “Very nice.”
Ti nodded proudly. “Only the best for the second generation of the Beylord.”
“Impressive.” Hamza joined them, Neo standing with him.
“Didn’t you captain a ship called the Beylord?” Neo asked.
“I did indeed. History was made on that ship, thanks to an attack by space pirates.” Turning, Ti presented the other Onfre male. “My friends, this is Captain Iscar of the warbird Beylord II.”
Captain Iscar bowed his head. “King Hamza, King Consort Neo, and Captain Shou, I bid you welcome. Be at peace on my ship. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, your Majesty, although I regret the occasion. I never met King Duran, but he was respected by many of the Leaders of my planet.”
“Thank you, Captain Iscar,” Hamza said. “And thank you on behalf of the people of Tah’Nar for coming to our aid.”
“We are allies, King Hamza. Your enemy is our enemy.” Iscar suddenly struck his fist against his chest and extended it out toward Keyno. His long tail thumped behind him. “Many of my people still speak of the warrior Captain Keyno Shou. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Thank you.” Keyno thumped his fist against his chest then extended it out toward Iscar. “And thank you to your Leaders as well.”
Unlike Tah’Nar, the Onfre didn’t have a planetary ruler. Instead, their world was divided into tribes, and each tribe had a Leader. The Leader from each tribe was responsible for his or her territory, which was enormous. Anything that affected the planet as a whole was discussed by the Leaders and voted on in a centrally located building for such discussions. It was called the Sa-Ka, and it was in neutral territory.
Originally there were ten tribes. But due to Ti and Keyno’s friendship—which precipitated the first ever Tah’Narians coming to Onfre—some Onfre opposed the visit. The ten tribes who made up their political system had split. The two who had boycotted the visit by the Tah’Narians and their mates broke away. There were only eight tribes now. The other two moved to an uninhabited part of the planet and became isolationists.
“The captains from the other warbirds are waiting for us in my personal quarters. Refreshments await you there too. Shall we?” Captain Iscar asked.
TOO MANY unit hours later, Hamza finally completed his official duties. The Onfre had sent five warbirds. It still amazed Hamza. Especially when he saw how technologically advanced they were compared to Tah’Narian starships—something he planned to rectify immediately. Thank the gods the Onfre were not only willing to share their technology but help install it.
The trip back to their room was a blur. Tired beyond reason and with a head stuffed full of information, Hamza was more than ready for bed. He never felt the bed shift when Neo lay down next to him.
“Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred. Ready or not, here I come!” Hamza dropped his hands from his eyes and searched the garden paradise.
Explosions of color ranging from the deepest of purple to the palest of pinks were everywhere, from flowers to shrubs to trees. Pebbled paths ran this way and that. A warm breeze fluttered his hair, and the pungent scent of newly blooming flowers tickled his nose.
He entered the maze constructed from dark purple bushes, listening carefully. One ear flicked toward a noise, but it wasn’t the one he was actually searching for. He stalked forward, hopping over a small limb across the p
athway.
It took time, but he checked every conceivable hiding spot. So far, no luck. The heat from the sun annoyed him, and he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. With his cat-like reflexes, climbing trees posed no problem for him. And if it didn’t for him, it wouldn’t for Neo, so he had to look up high and down low.
But still, he couldn’t find Neo. Hands on his hips, he studied the area. He’d searched everywhere! And it felt like he’d been hunting for unit days now, but there was no sign of Neo. No footprints to show if he had come this way. No broken stems on plants to show if Neo accidentally brushed up against them—and there were a whole lot of plants around here.
His atat really loved his private garden.
Hamza’s tail slashed behind him. So, where was Neo? He sniffed the breeze, but there wasn’t anything to suggest Neo had come that way. Irritated, he turned back. Stupid hide and seek game. He’d been sure he’d find Neo with no trouble at all.
No one had told him it was going to be this hard.
A constant splashing drew him. It had been ages since he’d had something to drink. Hunting was hard work, after all. And besides, he hadn’t yet checked that area, so being the proud Tah’Narian warrior he was, he crept that way until he reached the middle of the garden and its bubbling fountain.
A bench was positioned so someone could sit and enjoy the scenery—which was what his atat was doing, while reading on a hand-held comm. Next to the fountain was a container that held food for the fish in the nearby pond. Music played softly in the background.
“Atat? Where’s Neo?” Hamza demanded. He was hot, tired, thirsty, and so over this game.
“I can’t tell you. According to Dale, that would be cheating. You’re supposed to find him on your own. You know that.” Jolak grinned at Hamza’s look of frustration. “You look a bit flushed.”
“I’ve searched everywhere! In trees, in holes in trees, in tall grass, in the many, many sitting areas you have around here… and he’s gone. Poof! He could be lost. Maybe in danger. He, ah, he might be thirsty too.”
Jolak laid the comm down. He tapped a finger against his lips. “I see. Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I brought water bottles.” Jolak pointed at a small container.
Scrambling over to it, Hamza jerked open the top, grabbed a bottle, and twisted off the cap. Within moments he downed half of it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think you should tell me where he is. It’s been unit hours since I stopped counting, Atat! I’m concerned.”
“Uh-huh. My young, it’s been less than twenty unit minutes.”
Hamza goggled. “No way!”
“Hehehehe!”
Whipping around, Hamza searched for the sound. On silent feet, he prowled toward some bushes off to the right. Bright blue eyes peered out of the lavender foliage, which, okay, the color might have been overlooked, but not that red hair Neo got from John.
He glared at the shrub, with its silly amount of plate-size flowers that were a brilliant shade of purple-blue, which brought even more attention to that blinding redness hiding amongst them. Hmmm. There were a lot of flowers. Like, a whole lot. Grinning mischievously, Hamza flung himself at the shrub where Neo hid. Laugh at him, would he? Hamza would shake that bush until Neo was covered in those flowers!
“Hey! What are you—stop that!” Neo swatted at the blooms falling all around him. And on him. “You aren’t supposed to…. Why are these things sticking to me, and—oooof!” Neo sprawled on the ground, Hamza sitting on his chest.
“Found you! I win!”
Neo shoved at Hamza, and together they rolled out from under the foliage, mock fighting.
Snickering, Hamza pinned Neo again. There were flowers stuck all over Neo—in his hair and on his clothes. Where they’d touched skin and fell off, they’d left bright purple tracks. It was the funniest thing Hamza had ever seen.
“You look silly!” Hamza smirked at the flower-covered Neo. He was kind of cute too, but Hamza wasn’t going to mention that.
Neo snarled, baring his teeth.
Hamza plucked a flower off Neo and shoved it in his mouth.
Neo yowled. Or tried to.
“That’s enough, you two.” Jolak stood over them, shaking his head. He pulled Hamza off Neo and flashed Hamza a look.
Hamza dropped his gaze to the ground. He knew that look. He was going to get a talking to, as Neo called it, later, he just knew it.
“Of course you young ended up in my rare purple-blue double-petalled Hibisceae.”
“Sorry, Atat.”
Neo stood and edged closer to Hamza. He kept rubbing at the streaks of lavender on his body. “Rare? Oh no. I’m sorry too, Jolak. Are they okay? We didn’t damage them, did we?”
Hamza bit his lip. The color wasn’t coming off Neo, and it was everywhere.
“No, they are a hardy plant. Very resilient. I wish I’d seen where you were hiding. I would’ve told you to pick another spot if I had, because unfortunately, the flowers can stain the skin. It may take a few unit days for the, um, streaks, to wash off.”
“What! A few unit days? But, but, there’s purple everywhere on me! I’m covered in—” Neo wailed, shoving Hamza. “You big jerk!”
Hamza stumbled back. He planted his feet and glared at Neo. “Hey! You picked that place to hide, not me.”
“Aaargh!” Neo flung himself at Hamza.
Down Hamza went, taking Neo with him. Once more they rolled across the ground.
Hamza opened his eyes. What had triggered that memory? And did it matter? Not really, but by the gods, he appreciated it. He needed something happy to hold onto right now. He flipped onto his side. Neo lay next to him; a strand of hair clung to his face. Hamza gently brushed it aside.
Neo had been so mad, and the color did take a while to wear off. He’d picked on Neo endlessly during that time, but Neo gave as good as he got. Gods, they’d been… what? Around seven or eight in human years, maybe.
Looking back now, it occurred to him picking on Neo had been the only way at the time he knew how to express what he felt, even though he hadn’t realized what that feeling was exactly. My mate. My love. Mine for always. Bound to me by love even before birth.
He grinned in the darkness. Oddly enough, the purple-blue double-petalled Hibisceae was Neo’s favorite flower.
Chapter Ten – Neo
BEFORE NEO had managed to even pry open his eyes the next morning, Hamza was up, dressed, had already eaten, and was halfway out the door. There were no morning kisses, quick cuddles, or even a brief hug goodbye—just a distracted wave as Hamza rushed away.
Neo buried the small seed of hurt and reminded himself Hamza had a lot on his shoulders. The rebuilding, preparations for war, and the upcoming coronation were just a few things demanding Hamza’s attention.
Still.
He wanted to support Hamza. Be there for him. He just needed Hamza to stay in one place long enough for him to actually do that. It also bothered him Hamza hadn’t truly grieved yet. Oh, the anger was there, and there was plenty of that emotion. But the pain he knew lived in Hamza was bottled up. It bothered him, both medically and personally.
Neo shoved the covers off and climbed out of bed. After a quick shower, he dressed and made his way to their temporary small kitchen. He scowled at the plain walls. He was past ready to get back to their own place. It was just so impersonal and barren here.
“It’s a shelter. Of course it sucks,” he muttered, slightly ashamed. “Be glad you have somewhere to go, at least.”
“That’s true, but I agree. It does lack a certain something.”
Neo jerked around. Jolak, wrapped in a long dark-purple robe, crossed the room. He stopped by the counter, towel-drying his hair.
“Jolak!” Neo fought not to cringe. Here he was crying about the aesthetics of the place, while Jolak had had his life turned upside down. He really needed to get a grip on his priorities. “I’m sorry you heard that. I, ah, I didn’t know you were up.”
“Not t
o worry, dear.” Jolak patted Neo on the cheek. “I agree with you. It’s ugly, soulless, and thank all the gods we have somewhere to go during this time.”
“Yeah.” Desperately wanting a change of subject, Neo grabbed at the first thought that entered his head. “So, are you hungry? I’m hungry.”
“Yes, but coffee first.”
Neo wrinkled his nose but hopped to it. “Coming up.”
A few unit seconds later, he removed Jolak’s cup from the reduplicator. “Here you go.”
Jolak took it and sat. “Fill me in on what’s going on.”
That certainly wasn’t a request, but unfortunately, Neo didn’t know that much. What little he did, he related to Jolak.
“This simply won’t do,” Jolak said once Neo had repeated the embarrassing lack of information he did have. “As the King Consort, you have certain obligations you must attend to, and to do that, you must have the data needed to do so.” Jolak tapped his comm.
In a few unit seconds, Hamza appeared. “Atat? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfectly fine. Well, mostly fine. I need access to all status updates, reports, any and all transmissions from other planets about the… the death of Duran, any condolences… everything.”
“You don’t need to be worrying about—”
“But I do,” Jolak snapped. “Actually, Neo is the one who needs this, and he needs this information so he may do his job as King Consort, which I am going to help him with. So yes, I need it. Give me access. Now, Hamza.”
Neo hiked his eyebrow. Jolak was in rare form this morning.
“Yes, Atat. Give me a few unit minutes to access everything you asked for, and I’ll send it. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about this.”
“I know, and that’s fine. You have a job to do. But so does Neo.” After signing off, Jolak rubbed his temples. “He’s so like his dabba. Yes, rebuilding and seeing to our fleet is important, but so are perceptions. We must show other races we are on top of this, that we are okay as a people. Now is not the time to appear disorganized or weak. And that’s your job, Neo, and one that I’m damn good at.” Standing, Jolak picked up his mug. “I’ll dress then be right back. We have a busy unit day in front of us, so get ready.”
