Clan and Conscience

by Tracy St. John

  Ospar grabbed Rivek beneath the armpits, hauling him up on his feet. Rivek screamed at the explosion of agony that ran the length of his body, but he forced himself to stand. He outweighed Ospar by a significant amount. He was sure the Dramok couldn’t carry him. He had to do what he could to save himself.

  They’d advanced no more than a step towards the door when a syndicate Nobek burst into the room. His gaze went straight to Ospar and Rivek. He leveled his blaster at the Dramok.

  No! Ancestors, not Ospar!

  Rivek used the strength he had left to shove Ospar around, to put himself between his lover and the weapon. The last thing Rivek knew was a roaring torment that ripped through him, eclipsing all other pain that had come before.

  Ospar’s ears rang with Jol’s maniacal shrieks and the close range of the thug’s shot. He could hardly believe he was still alive.

  He was afraid to find out if Rivek had been as lucky. As he fought to keep the Imdiko from dropping to the ground, he screamed, “Jol, help me!”

  His Nobek couldn’t hear him. Jol had sprung from the man he’d slaughtered to tackle the shooter. It was clear from a glance that Ospar’s clanmate had won that match as well. He was beating the hell out of the syndicate brute, his fists flashing in a relentless tattoo against the other. Ospar was positive Jol had already killed him. The bloody figure he pounded on wasn’t moving anymore.

  Between Rivek’s shove and Jol leaping on the syndicate heavy as he’d pulled the trigger, Ospar hadn’t been harmed at all. However, the glancing percussive power had knocked Rivek out. Maybe killed him. Ospar didn’t know, and he didn’t have the heart or the time to find out. Syndicate men were scattered all over the former headquarters of the defunct Pladon, and they would be racing in Ospar’s direction. He had to get Rivek to the shuttle.

  He struggled to gain a better grip on the bigger Imdiko. If Ospar could lift Rivek across his shoulders, he’d be able to carry him out. Desperation gave him strength, and he managed the feat, though he staggered under the priest’s weight.

  “Don’t die. Don’t die.” Ospar sobbed the chant as he lurched out into the empty reception area. He could hear firing going on elsewhere in the building. It gave him hope that Axter, Golas, and Talu were alive.

  It occurred to him he was leaving Jol insensible in his mindless rage, bashing what had to be a corpse by then. The thuds of fists hitting flesh hadn’t abated for a second. Hadn’t the crazy Nobek emerged from his killing fury yet?

  “Jol, get your ass out here and help me!” Ospar yelled. He turned to Urt’s old office to shout at his feral clanmate. “Damn it, Nobek—”

  Twisting around had been a mistake. With Rivek’s muscular bulk unevenly distributed across Ospar’s shoulders, the Dramok lost his balance. He tilted and fell onto the floor, taking the priest with him.

  Ospar absorbed the brunt of the impact. He grunted, Rivek heavy over his upper back. Cursing at the top of his lungs, Ospar wriggled out from under the Imdiko. As he lifted himself up to kneeling, Rivek groaned. His eyes fluttered. They opened.

  “Thank you, Mother of All. Rivek, you’re alive!” When Rivek failed to answer, staring at the ceiling instead, Ospar grabbed his chin. “Hey. Hey, are you with me?”

  Rivek’s gaze sharpened, focused. His soft voice sounded ragged, but he smiled. “Ooh. Ospar has a twin. I’ll take both. Yes, please.”

  “Shit. You’re seeing double? You have to go to the hospital.” The Dramok struggled once more to lift Rivek, but at that point, it proved beyond him. “Fuck, I’ve been sitting on my ass in my office too much and not working out. Isn’t adrenaline supposed to be giving me extra strength?”

  Rivek shook his head, as if to clear it. He maneuvered his legs under him and stood, hissing with torment. He couldn’t maintain his balance, and Ospar grunted as the Imdiko fell against him, his heft threatening to knock them both down again. They clung to each other, wavering like a pair of drunks.

  His tone too happy for the situation, Rivek said, “I think I’ve got this. Just don’t let me walk into stuff.”

  You do not have this. Not even close. Ospar didn’t say it. He was too busy trying not to collapse under Rivek’s weight, fighting to keep the priest from jerking them into walls and dust-covered desks.

  “This way. Towards the shuttle bay,” he huffed instead.

  He did his best to steer his bigger companion down the hall. Rivek’s legs were wobbly, alternating between attempting to spill him to the ground and twisting them in the wrong direction. He lurched, crashing Ospar into the wall. The Dramok grimaced and shoved them back on course.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’re making progress.” By the inch.

  They’d managed a few feet when the sounds of the fighting, which had been coming ever closer, ceased. Blood-curdling howls of triumph drifted through the corridor. Ospar exchanged a terrified glance with Rivek.

  The Imdiko said, “My vision is blurred, but I can tell you’re as scared as I am. Is that not our team?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what’s terrifying me. We’d better be ready for anything. Jol! Damn it, get your psychotic, murdering ass out here!” Ospar was going to thump his bloodthirsty Nobek if they lived, even if he could understand Jol’s desire to beat Rivek’s attacker to mush. He lowered Rivek to the floor, leaning the Imdiko against the wall. “Sit down in case it’s not our side that’s won. I’ll be able to shoot straighter if I’m not holding you up at the same time.”

  Rivek nodded. “I’d ask if you have an extra blaster, but I doubt I could hold it straight.”

  Ospar did not have an extra blaster. He aimed his down the hall, waiting to discover which group of silent, deadly Nobeks showed up.

  Jol was abruptly at their sides. Ospar’s clanmate appeared unhurt, though he was splattered with blood and gore. “The firing has stopped.”

  Ospar was too glad to have his protector next to him to give him hell for wasting time destroying their enemies. He breathed. “Thank you, Mother of All. If it’s not our team, you’ll be able to hold them off better than I can.”

  Jol’s blaster was out and pointing too. He glanced at Rivek. “How are you? You look terrible.”

  Rivek, forever the calm priest, beamed at Jol. “I’m happy to see you. But I think something in my skull has been knocked loose.”

  Movement pulled Ospar’s attention from Rivek. He braced himself as three Nobeks rounded the corner. They halted and held their blaster-wielding hands up as they saw the Dramok and Jol aiming at them.

  Ospar’s legs went as weak as Rivek’s for a moment. Talu, Axter, and Golas were alive and as fiercely Nobek as ever. With a flash of fangs, they dropped their arms and came running.

  He didn’t bother to greet them or ask if other members of the syndicate were on their heels. “Rivek needs a doctor. We’ve got to get him out of here.”

  Talu leveled a glare at the two law officers. “We should all go, at least until we can alert the Global Security detail.”

  Ospar and Jol heaved Rivek to his feet once more, supporting him between them. The others ranged around them defensively as they hurried to escape.

  The officers argued as they went. Golas told Talu, “We’re enforcers of the law. There are criminals in this building, not to mention a great deal of evidence to be protected. Leaving the scene of a crime would not do our careers any good.”

  “Neither would being killed by whoever on your force is in Lanjur’s pay. Who do you think will be the first on the scene when you com it in?”

  Axter snarled. “You had to make that point. About fucking time!” he continued as his com buzzed for attention. “Global Security? Yes, I’m aware you didn’t find Master Rivek there. If you’d kept somebody available to answer my com, you’d know where he is. We’re pulling him out of Pladon headquarters, with a shitload of syndicate heavies surrounding us and district enforcement due to arrive within minutes. Send someone out here, stat!”

  Ospar huffed and puffed as he and Jo
l hurried Rivek as much as they could to the conveyance system. It was a relief as they all crowded in and commanded it to transport them to the shuttle bay.

  Though Jol didn’t sound winded, he said, “I never appreciated until this second how big you are, Rivek. And most of you is muscle.”

  “He is a large fellow,” Talu agreed. “Ospar looks ready to collapse.”

  The bloodied Imdiko uttered a noise between a moan and a laugh. “It’s a pity I don’t have your training, Jol. It would have been nice to put my size to some use in defending myself.”

  “Let me take your place, Ospar,” Talu offered.

  As wiped out as Ospar felt, he refused. He wouldn’t let go of Rivek for all the world. “I can do it. Besides, I prefer your superior abilities on the blaster.”

  “I’ll carry him, my Dramok.” Jol braced to lift Rivek.

  “No, be ready in case you have to let go and fight again.” Ospar scowled at his lack of battle skills. “I’m going to spend an hour a day on the shooting range from now on. And working out.”

  The conveyance door opened. Talu, Axter, and Golas went out first, to ensure the shuttle bay was clear of enemy fighters.

  Meanwhile, Rivek said, “I’ll remind you to stay in shape. I’ll learn to fight too. You’re not sending me away again.”

  The Nobeks gave the signal for Ospar, Jol, and Rivek to venture out. As they hurried to Ospar’s shuttle, the Dramok gasped, “Is that so? Maybe I should go with the tide and clan you.”

  “Absolutely. Especially while I’m seeing pairs of you and Jol. Let me enjoy the fantasy of having four of you for the rest of my life.”

  Ospar wheezed breathless laughter. His legs were jelly, his back was killing him, and he was certain he’d torn something in his shoulder. Killers could descend on them at any moment, but his heart was alight. “Any objections, my Nobek?”

  “No. Ask him quick before you pass out, my Dramok.”

  The Nobeks guarding them still appeared fierce, but they were also chuckling. “Trust Dramok Ospar to get hitched in the middle of a fight to survive,” Axter laughed.

  “I am the center of chaos too often, aren’t I? The very thing Rivek said he couldn’t deal with,” Ospar pointed out, despite wanting to shout the proposal and secure Rivek’s assent before the Imdiko regained his senses.

  They reached the shuttle. Jol and Ospar got the battered Imdiko seated and secured as Talu manned the cockpit. Jol’s father barked a laugh as they took off. “Syndicate operatives are just showing up. There must be three dozen of them, at least. I wish I could hear them explain to Lanjur how they let five of us rescue a priest!”

  Meanwhile, Ospar stared at Rivek. His poor lover was a bruised, swollen, bloodied mess, yet Ospar would have gazed upon him forever. How he loved him. He would always love him.

  He told the Imdiko none of that. He had to know this was what Rivek wanted. “What changed?”

  “Everything.” The serene expression, so out of place on such a beaten visage, was all Rivek. “Me. My outlook. The needs of my soul. I was on the wrong path until you came along.” He glanced over at Jol and amended, “Until both of you came along.”

  “Then who am I to deny you your paradise?” Ospar winked as Jol groaned. “Rivek, my wonderful lover, friend, and advisor, the only person capable of reasoning with me, will you consent to joining my clan?”

  “I do consent, Ospar.” Rivek’s eyes, not quite focused on the Dramok’s face, shifted to the side. “And yes to you too, other Ospar. And that Ospar too. Yes to all of you.”

  Over Axter and Golas’ laughter, Jol called to Talu. “Fly faster, my father. Straight to the hospital. I can’t handle three Ospars. Hell, the entire Empire can’t handle three Ospars.”

  Chapter 27

  Ospar was having a drink in his clan’s common room, standing between the bar and the lounger, when Rivek and Jol returned home from fight training. He was glad to note they’d both already showered and dressed. A celebratory dinner was in order, and he knew where he planned to go after a stop at his campaign headquarters.

  The pair laughed at him, no doubt because they’d caught him watching election returns on every vid monitor. Jol couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Gloating, Councilman Ospar? How uncouth of you.”

  Ospar gave him a narrow glare. “You never know. I don’t like to assume anything.”

  Rivek, devastatingly handsome and fitter than ever, hurried over to hug him. “It was a given that you’d win the council seat from the moment Global Security arrested Lanjur. With all the information Axter’s operative gathered on the syndicate before they murdered the poor soul in that warehouse, Lanjur’s hold on the territory is over.”

  “Which inspired all the other candidates to come out of the woodwork when Lanjur was indicted.”

  Jol pointedly gazed at the list of candidates and the percentage of votes cast for them. Ospar’s was at the top of the list, with the other half dozen candidates in the low single digits. The Nobek snickered. “Nearly ninety percent have chosen you, with all districts reporting in. I’d say that’s a good indication we can call this won.”

  “Our Ospar is a charmer.” Rivek beamed at him.

  The Dramok wanted to believe he’d won the seat due to more than sheer charisma. “I’m also a valid candidate for the post.”

  “Absolutely. I say we break open that bottle of leshella and toast our new territory councilman. A private celebration will be nice before we go to campaign headquarters for the formal shindig.”

  Ospar thought about putting the rare vintage off, of protesting it was too soon to revel in his victory. Yet it was false modesty to insist that his election was anything but a foregone conclusion. He said nothing to stop Jol from unsealing the bottle. Rivek poured, and his clanmates congratulated him on his well-deserved victory.

  With conscious effort to not have everything be all about himself, Ospar asked, “How was the training?”

  Jol beamed at their clanmate. “Our Imdiko continues to improve at an impressive rate. He’s not only a natural, but dedicated to a fault. In fact, we should find someone more advanced than me to continue his work.” The Nobek narrowed his eyes at Ospar. “You could learn from his example.”

  “I practice my defensive tactics. Don’t I wake up half an hour early most mornings to do so? And I’ve hit the target range every day I wasn’t campaigning, as I said I would.”

  “I have far more opportunities to train than Ospar does,” Rivek broke in. “You’re doing well to fit in what you can, my Dramok.”

  Ospar’s heart warmed to hear Rivek address him as his clanmate. It was a title he delighted in since the Imdiko said it with such care—though the idea of being addressed as councilman had a nice ring to it too. “Thank you. I admit, I wish I had half your motivation.”

  Rivek chuckled. “Fending off your foes is all the inspiration I require. However, I enjoy the discipline fighting demands. It has many advantages beyond staying safe.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “I’d be delighted to show you.” With that, Rivek moved in a flash.

  Ospar didn’t have a single second to react before he found himself bent over the back of the lounger. The mass of his newest clanmate draped over him, pinning him to the furniture. The thick steel of Rivek’s cocks pressed against Ospar’s ass.

  The Dramok kicked and wriggled, trying to dislodge the Imdiko, to no avail. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” As if he didn’t know.

  His clanmate’s smooth voice in his ear made him shiver. “I’m rewarding you for a well-run campaign, my Dramok.” He reached beneath to cup Ospar’s groin, discovering his clan leader was as avid about the matter as he was.

  Except Ospar had other ideas about what he wanted. “If you wished to reward me, it would be you bending over.”

  “Are you sure about that? I’m surprised I have to remind you how good I am when I’m in command. Allow your priest to teach the lesson again.” With that, Rivek’s fangs bite into Ospar
’s neck, releasing intoxicant into the Dramok’s bloodstream.

  Fuck. Though he does have a point. Losing control to my clanmates has never been a real defeat.

  Not when Rivek opened Ospar’s trousers and released his clamoring shafts. The Imdiko’s tight grip, encircling Ospar’s primary and rubbing up and down, was more a convincing argument than the venom turning him helpless to Rivek’s commands. It was a disadvantage Ospar didn’t mind much at all.

  Rivek released the bite and licked the wound. “Be a good clanmate and stay put until I tell you otherwise.”

  The words burned into Ospar’s skull, sinking deep into his brain. Yes, he would remain there in that position until the end of eternity if that was what Rivek desired. Nothing in the world could convince him to move.

  From his position, Ospar saw nothing but the curtain of his own black hair falling over his face. The drone of the news vids were his only companions beyond his sense of touch. Rivek’s weight lifting off him was a real loss.

  “He’s dressed for the party, but I do prefer my Dramok naked,” the priest said.

  “It would be for the best.” Jol was cheerful with agreement. “We don’t want him showing up in wrinkled clothes—or would we? I’d enjoy trotting him around looking like a well-loved trophy.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Ospar groaned. “That’s no way for a Dramok councilman to present himself.”

  Their laughter filled his ears. “Don’t worry, lovely Ospar,” Rivek said as he pulled his clanmate’s pants down. “Your dignity will remain intact.”

  “What we can protect of it. Anything you do to make yourself look bad, I accept no blame for.” Jol tugged the Dramok’s shirt off.

  “What do we have here? Stand up, my exquisite leader. Let me ogle this magnificence I’m about to indulge myself in.”

  Ospar straightened, glad to be out of the humiliating pose, at least. He hoped his clanmates wouldn’t place him in a far worse one.