The Cold Wind (Ch 01 - 04)
#1 of The Cold Wind 1
Chapters 1 - 4 of my sci-fi novel The Cold Wind. This is a proper, novel-length story that while not furry per se, features sexy, demonic looking vaguely reptilian aliens and their interactions with humans :-) Cover art by Subomouse on DA - http://subomouse.deviantart.com
Preface
In order to make this whole novel more readable and so that you can concentrate on the story and the characters, I have endeavored to blend as much of the technobabble into the background as possible. Rather than coming up with lots of alien measurements, names and terms and confusing the crap out of both myself and my readers, I felt it was actually better for the flow of the story to render them in their English equivalents. So, while an alien civilization would obviously measure distances, time etc. in a different way than we would, you won't find any of that in The Cold Wind. Any American and British readers in the audience will, no doubt, be annoyed by my use of metric measurements. But I'm sure you'll cope and hopefully you will end up joining the rest of us in the 21st century, eventually. Remember 2.54 centimeters to the inch and you'll be just fine, I promise! All alien names, object descriptions and locations have been rendered in conventional English, including the names of the alien species themselves (Vanguard, Arbiters, etc) and for much the same reasons as the measurements. While I could come up with some complicated imaginary names for various characters, races, technology and the like, at the end of the day would it really add anything to the story? Besides, I'm kinda fond of the names I came up with for my Vanguard boys and girls; just strikes me as being practical to name someone after a trait/habit they have, or even something to do with their appearance. This one's name is Short-And-Ugly and he is pleased to meet you :-) I have taken a lot of liberties with both biology and physics in this story, although much of it is based on real science underneath it all. Although, if you look hard enough you'll no doubt find lots of inconsistencies and holes in many of the concepts and ideas that I've written about. If so, ssssssh, pretend you didn't see them. It's all about suspension of disbelief, people! Any left-over tech-talk is related to the story-line, so just bear with it, it's usually there for a reason (even if that reason is just for my own amusement or self-indulgence). Please note that there are events and conversations in this story that some may find "triggering". Although some of them are intended as light-hearted comic relief I understand that such issues are serious and should not be taken lightly in real life. So be warned going in that there are both serious and not so serious situations presented that may offend some viewers - discretion is advised. However, all that stuff aside, you will find plenty of space-opera goodness here because this is a genre very close to my heart. I grew up reading this kind of material from many talented, mainstream, big-name authors and while I may not be quite up to their standards I still hope I've done it justice in my own unique, twisted way. Here are, finally, the gay characters I always wanted to read about having adventures out there amongst the stars...- Kane (Waikato, NZ - 2005/Oslo, Norge - 2008)
Prologue
In the cold, dark expanses of interstellar space, near the edge of the Milky-Way Galaxy, an, automated listening post began to receive faint radio signals. Of lower power and subtly different from the background roar of naturally occurring radio emissions, the onboard systems calculated to a high degree of probability that these signals were of intelligent origin. Obeying the instructions programmed into its system, the listening post hunted around until its sensors locked onto the signal source and began to record them.After several years of collecting and analyzing the increasingly complex signals, the listening post relayed the information to the nearest Vanguard colony on a world orbiting the star that humans knew as Tau Ceti. The data were carefully studied by the engineering clans in order to verify the legitimacy of the signals. Over the following decades, the signals grew in strength and number. Eventually, the colony elders decided to send a vessel to investigate and observe the species responsible.As with past exploration missions, a decision would quickly be made by the pack-leader whether or not the new species constituted a threat. Suitable military action would then be taken to neutralize it, if deemed necessary. Or they could invade if the species or planetary system offered anything that the Vanguard Empire felt it required. In these troubled times it seemed as if the Empire demanded more and more...Intelligent life was a rare phenomenon and very few other intelligent species had been discovered by the Vanguard during the exploration of their Galactic sector. Most of those they had discovered had turned out to be dangerous, unstable, or primitive and most of those species had been preemptively destroyed, leaving the formerly living worlds barren, lifeless and littered with shattered, empty ruins.Only one of the species they had discovered had turned out to be close to their equal. Little was known about this species, other than that they called themselves Arbiters. A violent and aggressive race, they had a tendency to ignore any peaceful overtures, instead preferring to exterminate everything that came before them. In many of the outer planetary systems of the Empire where the two species had clashed, vast battles had been fought to a stalemate. While technologically inferior to the Vanguard, the Arbiters had overwhelming strength of numbers.After studying the signals from this new species, the engineering clans were cautiously optimistic. Nothing indicated that they were particularly technologically advanced or that they would pose much of a threat - or challenge for that matter - to the Empire. Mission specialists were selected and an old, converted freighter was out-fitted for the voyage. The military had decided in their wisdom that they couldn't spare one of their more powerful vessels; there had been reports of increased Arbiter activity in the region and the pack-commanders were taking no chances of weakening the fleet, if only by one vessel.
I Chapter One
It was one of those stunningly clear, crisp, Winter nights and the stars hardly even sparkled in the still, frigid air. Tainui Rauwhero lay wrapped up in a large woolen blanket, staring up at the spray of stars overhead. One hand was down the front of his trackies, the other tucked behind his head while he idly contemplated a star... although the 23 year old Maori roadie wasn't thinking about the stars in the sky. The star he had in mind was a rather attractive 19 year old pop-star who was, unknown to him, determinedly climbing up the back of the truck on which he was lying... A few months back, Tainui had been making his way around the world on what he called his 'big OE' (Overseas Experience). He had been hitch-hiking across the Mid-West and was just about out of money when he heard about a job going as a roadie for some popular new band. He'd applied for the position having no idea who they were at the time. It was only after he found out that he realized how lucky he was. Custom Nightmare: A four-piece electronica/rock group consisting of two guys, a girl and...Andrej Hannan. The fickle public was becoming more than a little jaded with all the monotonous sounding crap being spewed from the cookie-cutter rap and R'n'B groups. Custom Nightmare had come out of nowhere and captured the public's imagination with the catchy riffs and meaningful lyrics. They seemed to really strike a chord with people across many different demographics, rapidly shooting to the top of many charts and staying there. Not that it hurt that they were all young and attractive, either; the group quickly built up a foaming, rabid fan-base of dedicated teenagers. Although the work was hard and the money wasn't that great, he had leapt at the opportunity anyway - not only was it a way out of his financial difficulties but it also gave him the chance to see a bit more of the world on someone else's dime. While he wasn't normally a fan of the sort of music Custom Nightmare played, even he couldn't help but be impressed. The band rocked hard and the attractive lead-singer rocked even harder... Initially it had been a superficial attraction; who hasn't secretly lusted after someone young, sexy and famous at some stage in their lives? But as the weeks wore on he had come to realize that Andrej Hannan was more than just a pretty face; the young guy was actually a seriously talented artist. To his surprise, the fame and fortune hadn't turned him into an ego-monster, either. In fact Andrej often appeared a little overwhelmed by the frenzied attention of the public and media. On the few occasions when he actually met him face-to-face, the singer had appeared friendly, if somewhat shy. It had taken a lot of his self-control on these occasions to prevent himself from dragging the singer kicking and screaming into a secluded location where he could then proceed to rip off all their clothing and devour him like a starving animal... One event which stuck vividly in his mind had been at one of the recent concerts in a tightly packed, invitation-only nightclub in Berlin. There was a hot, seething mass of bodies, writhing and gyrating in the darkness while the music flowed and the band poured their hearts into the performance. Earlier in the day while he and the other roadies had been assembling the speaker towers and setting up the other equipment, he'd seen Andrej and the other band-members being interviewed by a local TV news-crew. Despite the fact that he was (supposed to be) fairly busy with his own work, Tainui had taken as many opportunities that he could to look over at what was going on. Andrej had seemed quite preoccupied during the interview, staring over in his direction several times, enough to make the roadie self-consciously turn around to see if there was something happening behind him that he hadn't noticed. When the interview wound up, he'd caught the singer staring in his direction again and he smiled and gave a little nod, unsure whether he could even be seen from his position near the front of the club. And when Andrej's face had suddenly split into a broad smile he'd turned away and busied himself with some cabling, suddenly embarrassed despite the reality probably being that the singer had just said something funny in the interview. Probably. Unfortunately when he'd approached the stage to ostensibly check out the positioning of some of the lighting pods - but actually just get closer to the object of his desires - the band had been whisked away for some publicity shots around Berlin before he managed to get close. Later that night he'd sat up in the large DJ's booth near the back of the club with the lighting and sound guys, watching the performance over the tops of the crowd of mostly under 30's men and women while they bumped and ground against each other. Custom Nightmare had been on top form. Andrej was obviously putting his heart and soul into the performance, making Tainui's heart almost break when he'd fallen into the lyrics and was carried away by the music. Not to mention the almost constant state of semi-arousal he was in because the singer had ripped his shirt off and flung it into the crowd, performing topless almost the entire night with the multi-colored lights shimmering on his taut, sweat-slicked torso. When Andrej had reached the final haunting chorus of a song they had performed for the first time that night, he slid to the front of the stage on his knees with one hand held up in front of him as if reaching over the heads of the crowd. Tainui had been absolutely transfixed when he'd locked eyes with him - And Andrej was looking... Right. At. Him. The crowd, the crew and the rest of the band had all just faded away in his mind until there was nothing left but Andrej, yearning, reaching toward him in the spotlight... And then the crowd virtually exploded, smashing the moment forever when they'd rushed the stage and the young singer had to scramble backward to avoid getting torn to bits by the adoring masses. It seemed that the crowd had picked up on something of the emotion that was being poured into the performance and were reacting to it. So for the rest of the evening Tainui had just stood there, hoping for another moment of connection with the subject of his desires. Like earlier in the day, the band had been whisked away from the nightclub after completing their last set to some party with various industry big-names and famous socialites. Tainui had been crushed when they had left because he was willing to do almost anything he could to try and see Andrej in person. Instead, he had to work his frustrations off by disassembling and carting around heavy sound and lighting equipment, along with what appeared to be kilometers of tangled cabling. By the early hours of the morning he had pretty much dismissed the entire moment as nothing more than a flight of fantasy on his part. He had let himself get all steamed up over nothing, some imaginary fling. Would the lead singer of an internationally famous, popular group really be flirting with some Hori no-name roadie that he didn't even know existed? The young man was constantly surrounded by lusty young women who threw themselves and various (usually sopping wet) undergarments at him everywhere he went. Kicking himself for allowing his imagination get the better of him, he'd vowed to rein in his expectations and be content with merely fantasizing from a distance. So Tainui just watched the band's practices and performances from afar. And when Andrej sang he continued to fantasize that the attractive young guy was singing to him and him alone. Little did he know that Andrej had been equally frustrated at being dragged out to yet another after-gig party full of complete strangers where he'd been forced to smile and mug for the media and make nice with all sorts of mind-blowingly shallow, uninteresting people. All he'd wanted to do was retreat back to his trailer, or hotel, wherever they happened to be staying that night and collapse, exhausted, into bed. Preferably a bed containing a certain sexy roadie he'd been attempting to catch the eye of for some time now. The new song he had performed that night had been written for him specifically by his friend and the band's bassist, Liz. She knew how much he liked the dark-skinned young roadie in their crew. During one of the earlier numbers, she'd spotted the roadie sitting up in the booth at the rear of the club and had surreptitiously pointed him out to Andrej. So when they began performing the new song 'The Bond', he had blocked out everything; the gyrating crowds, the lights, the noise, even the rest of the band. Almost in tunnel-vision he harnessed the music and passion inside himself and had eyes for no-one but the roadie, sitting up in the booth staring straight back at him, their eyes connecting and locking..."My life is yours for the taking, my soul calls out to you... __I call to you across the gulf that lies between us,_ My life is yours for the taking, my soul calls out to you... It's a leap of faith I take, I have no choice, I must! My life is yours for the taking, my soul calls out to you..." Pouring everything of himself into the words, he slid across the stage and reached for the one he desired so much across the top of the anonymous heaving mass, just able to make him out through the glare of the spotlight. Unfortunately the crowd had then gone completely ballistic and he'd been forced to scramble back from the front of the stage when they surged forward in one solid mass of shrieking, incoherent humanity. He had managed to survive through the rest of the night in one piece, attempting to keep up eye-contact with the object of his desires at the back of the club as much as he was able. Their touring schedule had been so hectic that Andrej had very little time to himself and hadn't had much of an opportunity to do much in the way of a follow up. Although, if he was going to be completely truthful with himself, he had also been _afraid. There were no guarantees that the roadie was even interested in the slightest, beyond being associated with the band in some way. Chances were he was just some straight guy who worked hard for a living and liked the music. And that he was barking up the wrong tree in the wrong forest... So he continued to sing; continued to pour as much of himself into his music that he could and continued to keep an eye out for the roadie at the back of the crowd. He continued to sing to the attractive man who had captured his heart, continued to be afraid of the likely rejection he would face should he ever follow through.
Chapter Two
Abruptly jolted from his reverie, Tainui heard a muffled impact from the rear of the truck, followed by some barely audible cursing. Startled by the sudden noise, he whipped his hand out of his pants and spun around, squinting in the darkness at the vague shape of someone unsteadily scrambling up the dew-slippery ladder attached to the truck's tailgate. "What the hell do you want?" he hissed at the shape, annoyed at the interruption and unable to recognize the person who winced at the tone in his voice while he hesitantly approached him in the obscuring darkness. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to disturb you. Just wanted to get some fresh air and get away from the others for a while." Tainui's heart skipped a beat when he recognized the intruder's sultry voice; the very person he'd just been fantasizing about. "Shit! Mr. Hannan! Sorry, I didn't recognize you," he stuttered and swiftly rearranged the blanket to conceal the bulge in his trackies. The last thing he wanted was for the young man who was effectively his employer to know what he had been up to. Andrej sat opposite him on the cold metal and crossed his legs, straining to make out the roadie's features in the darkness. He remembered back a few weeks to the time when he had first noticed Tainui when they were touring around Eastern Europe - home of Andrej's ancestors. The Maori was one of several roadies they had acquired on the American leg of their tour to lug the band's gear, setting it up for the various concerts they performed around the world. Tall with black hair, olive-brown skin and stunning green eyes, Tainui had stood out like a beacon compared to the rest of the roadie gang who faded into utter insignificance. Quite often working shirtless while he labored with various heavy equipment, the roadie had no idea that Andrej had been watching him performing on many occasions. The singer had been a very appreciative, if unnoticed, audience. At one point and attempting to appear vaguely disinterested Andrej had casually questioned some of the other roadies to see if they knew much about the new guy. "His name's Tainui Ralphy-something. From that Nooooo Zeeeeland country," he remembered a nearby voice drawling in an exaggerated Texan accent. Gary Fielding, the band's manager and promoter, had been standing nearby, noisily chewing on a wad of chewing-tobacco; an obnoxious and disgusting habit the man had taken up after the band became popular and the big money began rolling in. Andrej really disliked the arrogant Southerner but had never said anything since Gary was the family friend of one of his band mates. He also harbored suspicions that the man had been cooking the books, defrauding them out of quite a bit of money. So far he had not located any hard evidence of this but, just to be on the safe side, had hired an independent accountant to look into the accounts more closely for any evidence of wrong-doing. Give the bastard enough rope to hang himself with... After watching Tainui disappearing up onto the top of one of the trucks to watch the stars - something he had observed the roadie do on many occasions - Andrej decided that it was time he actually did something about the tension he felt when he was near him. If he didn't find out, one way or the other, it would just end up eating him alive. This time there would be no interruptions, no crowds, crew, agents or even any of his other band-mates. Just him and the roadie; alone. Putting on a brave face he didn't actually feel, he looked over at the Maori and chuckled nervously. "You don't have to use that mister crap with me. Please, just call me Andrej. It's Tainui, isn't it? Your name, I mean?" He immediately cringed, wincing in the darkness at what he had just said. 'Way to go, moron. Can you possibly sound any more eager and pathetic?' he thought with more than a little self-loathing. "Call me Tai. I was just up here watching the stars and relaxing," Tainui tipped his head back and looked up at the stars again in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant toward the singer. He sat there, wrapped in the blanket and blushing furiously, profoundly grateful for the darkness. After several long, awkward moments of silence he lowered his gaze back to the shape of the boy in the darkness. "Strange kinda place to come and get fresh air, isn't it?" "Sorry, I'll leave you alone then -""No! Uh, no, that's okay. Please stay, it would actually be kinda nice to have some company tonight. I'm just a little surprised you're not spending time in your trailer. It's not exactly warm or comfortable up here," Tainui said reasonably, unable to see the relieved look on Andrej's face in the dark. The young guy shrugged at him. "Sometimes I just like a bit of space, you know? These trailers are a bit pokey, goddamn that tightwad manager of ours," he muttered venomously. Tainui nodded at him in the dark, thinking briefly about the cramped, stinking trailer he shared with the other roadies. "Speaking of warm, though...I don't suppose you want to share the blanket do you, Tai? You're right about it being a bit cold," he laughed softly, teeth chattering slightly while he shivered in the chilly Winter air. Tainui quickly unwrapped his blanket and offered it to him. "Here. It's all yours." Taking the offered blanket Andrej cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. "What about you? Won't you get cold?" "Nah, I'll be alright, aye," Tainui grinned, eyes gleaming at him in the darkness. Andrej wasn't convinced and motioned for him to move closer. "Be warmer if you joined me. I think it's big enough for the both of us to share." He giggled nervously. "Don't worry, man. I don't bite." When Tainui hesitated for a few moments Andrej mentally kicked himself; if he kept up at this rate, his metaphorical ass was going to be one great big foot-shaped bruise by the end of the night. 'Oh just fucking wonderful. Now you just sound like a desperate idiot,' he thought. 'Oh well, fortune favors the stupid and you've been pretty damned stupid already...' Andrej shuffled over and wrapped part of the blanket around his shoulders. Tucking the offered blanket around himself, Tainui sighed gratefully. He was having difficulty in believing that he was now sitting shoulder to shoulder with the object of his recent sordid and sweaty fantasies. Glancing at the young man from the corner of his eye, he smiled to himself. It was quiet for several minutes while they both sat there and stared at the sky in companionable silence. When Tainui turned to look at him again, he was startled to see tears on the singer's face, shimmering faintly in the starlight. Throwing caution to the wind, he instinctively wrapped one of his big arms around the young man and pulled him closer. Trembling slightly Andrej laid his head on Tainui's broad shoulder and closed his eyes, savoring the warmth and quiet strength of his presence. From this distance, he was able to smell a faint scent of clean sweat and he breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of someone who worked a hard, honest job for a living. Tainui heard the indrawn breath and turned his head slightly. "What's wrong, bro?" he inquired, softly. Andrej shook his head and said nothing. Out of his depth at the sudden, strange turn of events, Tainui continued to listen to his instincts and shifted so he was sitting behind Andrej and nestled up against his back. Spreading his legs, he pulled the blanket around them a bit tighter, then wrapped both of his arms around the boy, pulling him against his chest and stomach. He rested his face against the back of Andrej's neck, heedless of the fine hairs that tickled his lips. While they sat there, Tainui wondered about the situation he now found himself in. That the young man had something on his mind was obvious, but he was reluctant to pry and break the mood. So he remained silent, waiting for Andrej to speak when he was ready; he didn't have to wait long when he felt the singer's shoulders slump. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, "I get so lonely even though I'm surrounded by people all the time. But they're all strangers to me. And they all want something. It's hard to find someone...someone just to get close to. Someone who doesn't have a selfish agenda. Does that make sense?" Hah! You must think I'm a real fucking loser now. Poor little popular-boy, oh woe is me. He laughed bitterly at himself. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to dump all my emotional crap on you. I'll take my drama back to my trailer and leave you in peace." He attempted to free himself, stand and walk away from the inevitable rejection, however the Maori refused to let him go. Andrej hung his head and closed his eyes. The way Tainui was reacting toward him gave him hope that he might be safe in opening up his heart and soul a little. "I've seen the way you look at me, Tai. Not like the fans do. They're just bat-shit insane. They're not interested in me - they just want the image of me. All they see is a famous, 'pretty' face. They don't give a shit about the person behind it," he smiled sadly and decided to throw caution to the wind. "Besides, I'm not exactly down with the girls..." He tensed his body for a few moments and waited to see if there would be some sort of negative reaction to what he had just admitted. When there was no reaction either way, he let out his breath in a rush and relaxed a little, somewhat relieved. Tainui leaned his head forward slightly, his voice muffled slightly while he nuzzled the back of the young man's neck. "You could have anyone you want, bro. But here you are, out in the cold and dark, spending time with me, instead. You're one crazy white boy." Another few minutes passed in companionable silence. "So, what's your story, Tai?" Andrej asked eventually, laying his head back so that it was resting on Tainui's shoulder. He could feel the slight stubble on the Maori's cheek rubbing scratchily against his own. Something about casual intimacy of the sensation filled his stomach with nervous, delighted butterflies. The roadie shrugged. "Not much to tell, aye. What you see is what you get; just another Kiwi living a long way from home." "Aww c'mon, man," he jabbed his elbow into Tainui's stomach, prompting an amused grunt from him. "I spill out my guts to you and you leave me high and dry. Not fair!" Nodding with one side of his mouth set in a crooked grin, Tainui relented. "Alright. Whaddya wanna know?" Now it was Andrej's turn to shrug. "I dunno - oh! Wait a minute... Why don't you tell me what you're doing over here, so far from home. Are you running away from something?" When he felt Tainui's body abruptly stiffen behind him, he realized that he'd just hit an emotional sore point. He tried to lean forward and turn around, but the firm and almost possessive grip around his chest and stomach prevented him from moving much. "Ah, crap. That was a pretty dumb thing to say. Sorry Tai, forget it -" "Nah, it's okay," Tainui interrupted him and forced himself to relax. "Might as well give you the full tour of my life. Just tell me to shut the fuck up if you start getting bored, alright?" He paused and waited for a response to his question. When none was forthcoming, he cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, in a Galaxy far, far - OW!" Andrej's jabbing elbow found its way into his ribs again. "Everyone's a critic," he sighed melodramatically. "Alright, alright. Point taken, mate. Anyway. I never did very well at school, dropped out when I was 15 or so. The only subjects I did well at were phys-ed and art." "Fizz-edd?" "Physical-Education. You know - sports and stuff. 'Specially rugby. Now that is something I was bloody good at. And it's not like that 'Grid-Iron' rubbish that you silly yanks play either; biggest bunch of poofters I've ever seen. Fancy running around a field wearing armor when you're playing rugby," Tainui giggled. The Maori's laughter was a sound that was almost musical to Andrej's ears; it made him smile. "Hey, watch who you're calling a poofter, man - I played a bit of that at school I'll have you know. And anyway there's something I have to ask you. Since you're all over me now and didn't run away screaming when I mentioned about the not liking girls thing...?" He left the question hanging, but felt the young man pressed against his back nod his head. "Yeah, yeah. Kinda figured it out when I was a lot younger. Had an older cousin that I used to muck around with whenever he visited the farm where I grew up. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after we got busted one time, I got kicked outta home." "I'm sorry -" "And I'm not," Tainui snorted, interrupting him. "It's one thing to be Maori with our long, proud, warrior heritage and all the rest of that bullshit. But if you're gay - Damn! Suddenly, you're somehow less of a man. Fuck 'em, anyway. Their loss," he said, the sound of pride evident in his voice, despite the hardship this had obviously caused him in the past. Andrej gently squeezed at the arms wrapped around him in a show of silent solidarity. Tainui puffed out his chest, with a big smile on his face. "Hey! I'm surprised you didn't call me out on studying a girly subject like art at school, being the big, butch kinda guy I am. You pick holes in my sporting prowess, but leave my interest in art alone? You're a fussy little bugger, you know that?" While he continued to talk about his life Andrej enjoyed the vibrations from Tainui's voice against his back and closed his eyes while he listened. For the first time in many months he felt comfortable enough to let go of the stress and tension he'd been carrying for all that time and just be himself. It was a delicious and liberating feeling. "Didn't take me long to figure out there wasn't a lot left to hang around for. So I saved up for a bit then started traveling. I managed to get a job coaching a corporate rugby team in Japan, of all places. Life can be strange, aye. It was about this time that I met a guy in a bar one night. His name was Carlos. He was in his late 20's, from Argentina, and had a job teaching Spanish to some spoiled brats at one of the local private high-schools. We got to chatting and ended up buying each other quite a few rounds." Tainui stopped speaking and stared with unfocused eyes into the darkness, his thoughts lost in another place, another time. "What happened...?" Andrej gently prompted him after a minute or two. The Maori started slightly, blinking his now dried-out eyeballs. "Yeah, sorry. Anyway, they ended up kicking us out of that bar before closing time," he chuckled quietly at the memory. "Apparently, the owner didn't like us razzing the karaoke singers. Well, let's just say they weren't quite up to your standard, bro." Shuddering theatrically Andrej elicited another giggle from him. "Ugh! I'll be doing 20,000 RPM in my grave the day they murder our songs with fucking karaoke," he grumbled. "Sorry. Please, carry on." "Heh, well he invited me back to his flat...well, more of a closet really. You know what it's like in Japan. So, we went to his place for a 'nightcap' and I never left. Ended up staying there with him for the next 18 months or so. Carlos is the only guy I can honestly say that I've ever loved. Best 18 months of my life." He shrugged. "But you know what they say about good things not lasting forever, aye." Andrej heard the breath catch in Tainui's throat momentarily. "It's alright, man. You don't have to tell me if it makes you upset," he squeezed at the hands wrapped around his chest in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Nah, it's sweet, bro. I don't mind. But I still remember the day my heart was torn from my chest..." Tainui's voice became noticeably strained. Mistaking the strain for another emotion Andrej spoke into the silence. "Was it an accident?" "Was what an accident?" the Maori asked him, confused. "Um, whatever killed Carlos." "Killed him? Nah, bro! He wasn't dead." Tainui shook his head, angrily. "I sometimes wish he was, though." Andrej blinked, completely lost. "But when you said...?" "I came home early one day and caught him boning one of his 14 year old male students. In our bed too, the filthy little prick." "Ouch," Andrej wheezed painfully when the Maori unconsciously acted out his anger. "Issues, much?" "What? Oh - oh shit! Sorry bro!" Tainui jerked his arms away, allowing the younger man to breath freely, again. "You alright?" "Nothing that a new spleen won't fix...no, seriously, I'm okay. Damn, Tai, that's some fucked up shit, though. What did you do?" Tainui shrugged and tentatively wrapped his arms around Andrej's stomach again, carefully watching for any sign that the contact was making him uncomfortable. "I left. I ran away." He leaned his head forward, resting his chin on Andrej's shoulder and pouted slightly. "And I guess I'm still running, even now." "Man, I don't blame you for being angry. I would've decked the sleazy -" Tainui laughed softly, interrupting him. "Believe me, I wanted to! Problem was, at the time I was just too stunned and simply walked out, not sure what to do with myself. Ended up wondering what the hell I'd done wrong for a while as well, how fucked up is that? But you live and you learn. Swore I'd never fall in love again, though." Although Andrej sympathized with him, hearing him say that last sentence still made his heart miss a beat - no chance of love with this guy, then? He caught himself and frowned, pissed off for letting those sorts of thoughts enter his head about someone he had effectively only just met. That sort of hopeless romantic rubbish only existed in movies and shitty romance novels, he knew. After a bit more small-talk they both lapsed into silence again, enjoying each other's company while they watched the stars. Overhead, a small pin-point of light brightened while speeding across the sky. It quickly developed a long tail as it sped across the starry expanse. The sudden increase in light made them both shade their dark-adapted eyes. "Hey, a shooting star. Make a wish!" Andrej whispered. "No need; got it already." Laughing Andrej leaned back quick and hard, pushing him onto his back. He managed to flip himself around and straddle the Maori's waist and could see teeth gleaming whitely up at him in the darkness when Tainui grinned, vastly amused. "That's a terrible chat-up line, Tai." "Yeah, isn't it just? So, tell me something... You going to keep flapping those talented lips of yours all night, or are you going to shaddap and kiss me already?" He reached up and grabbed the singer's shoulders, pulling him down toward him. "Help, rape..." Andrej joked, his heart suddenly beating quickly in his chest when he felt something hard pressing back against his own straining member. He gave up fighting against the inevitable and surrendered to his long-suppressed desires. "Tasty, tasty, rape..." he sighed, attacking Tainui's lips hungrily with his own. Unnoticed above them the shooting star slowed when it neared the horizon, the fiery re-entry trail fading away when it abruptly changed direction. It reached a point above a small, nearby mountain range, then sank down and disappeared from sight.
Chapter Three
Stares-Into-Space closely monitored the sub-space breach drive control panel while the portal gantries extended in front of their whimsically named ship, the Victorious-Hunting. The whole vessel vibrated disconcertingly when the gantries reached their proper positions and locked into place. Sliding her talons over the control panel, she increased the power output to the singularity generators. She had difficulty in hiding her eagerness when a star-speckled section of space in front of the ship materialized; the very fabric of space-time was being ripped open by the titanic gravitational forces acting upon it. She made no secret of her r_elief at leaving behind the peculiar gray _nothingness that was sub-space and patted the control console in an almost affectionate manner. The sensory-disturbing region had been their home for the past few weeks of near Faster-Than-Light (FTL) travel. And she was not alone; many of the crew shared her sense of unease at spending extended periods of time in the strange universe that was sub-space. There were stories about vessels mysteriously disappearing from time to time and then being discovered again, perfectly intact but with no sign of the crew. No sign other than every surface inside them liberally coated in blood and unidentifiable gore... Victorious-Hunting slipped back into real space with a burst of blue Cherenkov radiation which quickly dissipated when she powered down the generators. The violation of conventional physics quickly blinked out of existence behind the ship while it coasted through space, away from the exit point. An obtrusive buzzing noise startled Stares-Into-Space and she watched with wide-eyed dismay when the control console came alive with blinking holographic alarm indicators. The vessel shook alarmingly when the output of one of the large breach drive singularity generators spiked during its shutdown phase and an uncontrolled wave of gravitational shear buckled the support gantry, jamming it solidly in its rails. The engineer dove to the deck, half-expecting the jury-rigged control console to explode in a raging fireball from the electrical backlash. Instead, there was a miserable little_«pop»_ and a small plume of smoke spat out the back when some delicate component inside expired messily and with great vigor. Steadying himself against a bulkhead, Swift-Death, the expedition pack-leader, swung his head around and looked over to where Stares-Into-Space was lying on the deck, cursing loudly. He first eyed the smoking console, then the engineer speculatively. 'It cannot be too serious', he thought to himself. They still appeared to be mostly undamaged and the engineer wasn't running, screaming, for an escape-pod. Not y_et_, anyway. Given the age of their vessel he wasn't overly surprised that it was beginning to fall apart. Not to mention that the quality of Victorious-Hunting's retro-fit was rather suspect. Burying his simmering anger, he vowed there were going to be some engineers wishing they were dead when they eventually returned to the Tau Ceti ship-yards. "Quit cowering like an Arbiter and provide a damage report," he growled, glowering at the nervous engineer. Although he would admit it to no-one, he also shared the feeling of many aboard in his sense of relief at their return to normal space again. He had heard stories about vessels in sub-space. Horrible stories... Stares-Into-Space scrambled to her feet and self-consciously looked around the bridge before she lumbered over to the engineering control console. None of the other Vanguard present met her gaze. "Hrrr, gantries one, three and four have retracted and are secured," she called out. "Gantry two has remained in a position of deployment. It has jammed. Again. It will not prevent us from continuing the mission. However, it will take some time to repair and this means the breach drive is no longer operational in its current state." "Very well. Proceed with repairs immediately; I do not feel comfortable being trapped in this planetary system without a ready means of escape. It is time to discover what these miserable little...creatures that we have traveled so far to observe, are like. Carry on, engineer." Swift-Death turned and departed from the bridge, warily giving the smoking console a wide berth.
Chapter Four
Another appreciative if unanticipated audience, Tusker also enjoyed the music performed by Custom Nightmare while he listened to a transmission from the planet they were approaching. A big fan of Vanguard tribal music, some of the music made by this strange new species reminded him of the music from his home world. Although they were beginning to make some discoveries about the new species, deciphering their language wasn't one of them, yet. That didn't stop Tusker from idly swinging his tail to the primitive beats while he replaced the power supplies in the pile of shock-lances stacked on his workbench. Slash-To-Kill looked up from the partially disassembled heavy assault rifle on his own workbench and narrowed all four of his eyes, giving the grooving young warrior a disapproving glare. "Damned spawnlings," he muttered in irritation. Fleet-Of-Foot, working beside the grumpy old warrior, turned to him with a questioning look. "Hrrr, leave him be. You were also young and foolish at one time. Do not tell me you never stamped your feet to tribal rhythms when you were his age." Slash-To-Kill snorted dismissively and returned his attention to the stripped-down sections of the weapon. Grabbing an oiled cloth he polished the magazine interlock with a bit more vigor than was absolutely necessary. Stopping for a moment, he looked up at the other warrior with a small smile on his craggy features. "I was never that young. Hrrr...I am done with this make-work. We should investigate whether the engineers have made any significant discoveries regarding these aliens." They lumbered out, leaving Tusker rumbling quietly to himself, having pointedly ignored the barbs directed at him by the other two while he listened to the alien music being piped through one of the small control consoles nearby. Waiting and hidden in a side corridor nearby, another particularly well-built Vanguard watched with a predatory smile when the two older warriors departed. Tusker was completely unaware he was the subject of the violent and perverted attentions of a stalker. The preoccupied young warrior purred along to what the stalker considered Ancestor-cursed noise that the aliens called music, while he worked on the shock-lances. The stalker crouched in the doorway until the coast was clear then sprang with all four of his arms spread-eagled, crashing into Tusker with a roar and sending them both tumbling into a writhing mass of arms, legs and tails on the deck. "Got you!" he hissed, pinning the startled, wide-eyed young warrior to the deck, before clamping his jaws around his neck and biting down hard.
* * *
Crater was standing in front of a console on the astro-observatory, a look of bemused puzzlement etched into his face while he watched a rather peculiar-looking transmission on one of the view-screens. Although occasionally washed out by static, the transmission displayed two groups of the rather odd looking aliens having a battle in some sort of arena. They appeared to be fighting for possession of something small, dark and egg-shaped, with many thousands of enraged onlookers surrounding them in the stands. Although several groups of the aliens attacked others, it didn't look as if any permanent damage was being done; they usually got up and continued running around after being grappled. This was accompanied by the excited babbling of the high-pitched alien language. 'Most peculiar', he thought to himself. He swung his head around when he noticed movement from the corner of his eyes. Two warriors entered through the hatch, lumbering purposefully toward him. "The aliens refer to themselves 'humans' according to what the translation routines have been able to ascertain," he rumbled, juggling the unfamiliar term on his tongue before he returned his attention to the view-screen when the warriors halted beside him. "The majority of their broadcasts appear to be what passes for entertainment, I believe. It is the only logical explanation given my observations so far." The three of them stood around and watched the view-screen for several more minutes until the picture changed, showing what appeared to be a series of disjointed mini-stories. Various unidentifiable objects being subjected to improbable looking situations accompanied by excited alien babbling. Humans were weird... "They are the dominant intelligence on the planet. Hrrr, although I hesitate to use the word intelligence when it refers to these creatures. Biologically, they have at least two sexes that I have discovered so far." When Fleet-Of-Foot raised several eyebrows, the engineer snapped his jaw shut . "Indeed, much like we do. There are several minor species variations, each with differing skin pigmentation and languages. However, I do not believe there are any major biological differences between them." Crater gave the Vanguard equivalent of a shrug. "They probably evolved from a single ancestor type." "Have you have discovered something useful, hrrr? Perhaps some information regarding their military capabilities?" Slash-To-Kill grunted, not expecting much of a useful answer from a mere engineer. Crater wilted slightly under the warrior's withering scorn. "We have a requirement to exercise caution. From my limited observations, they are somewhat warlike and territorial." He turned slightly and tapped his talons on another nearby console, bringing up a spectrographic display on another view-screen. "The planet has a highly contaminated Nitrogen/Oxygen/Carbon Dioxide-based atmosphere. This indicates an early stage of technological development. I have also detected low levels of radioactivity. They may be experimenting with nuclear energy, or primitive nuclear weapons of some type." Swift-Death, who had meanwhile joined the small group, considered this information for several moments. His tail snaked back and forth in agitation while he weighed their options. "Very well. The priority now is to decipher one of the more common languages as much as possible." He turned to face Stares-Into-Space who had also joined them in the astro-observatory. "If these humans observe our approach we will be required to depart from this system rapidly. This means you will accelerate repairs to this miserable garbage-scow. I have a requirement that we are prepared for any surprise. Hrrr and you know how much I dislike surprises," he growled. Stares-Into-Space snapped her jaw shut nervously, almost sprinting from the room to put as much distance that she could between herself and the moody pack-leader. It took a great deal of willpower not to blurt out that you couldn't prepare for surprises because they were, by their very nature, surprises. 'Stupid warriors,' she grumbled to herself. "You two," Swift-Death said, pointing a talon at Fleet-Of-Foot and Slash-To-Kill, "will lead a landing expedition. Crater will accompany you to collect samples. I recommend you take Tusker for backup. The real-world experience such a mission will provide should do him good. One last thing; there is to be absolutely no contact with the aliens, understood hrrr? If this mission is compromised I will abandon you on that miserable planet to rot amongst the aliens."
* * *
Tusker moaned, all four eyes closed while the pressure increased, the other Vanguard's sharp teeth piercing through the softer scales and skin on his neck. He also felt a spearing pain from his ass where he was being forcefully taken by the larger Vanguard who held him pinned to the deck. Losing himself to the sensations, he tipped his head back until his horns were scraping against the metal deck plating. The thumping electronic noise of the strangely attractive alien music in the background played almost in counterpoint to the violent thrusting of the large Vanguard on top of him. Only barely able to get enough air, the whole experience was taking on a dream-like quality while he writhed around, only half-heartedly struggling against his aggressor. His own member, erect and jutting out of its sheath, was being crushed between their two bodies. It oozed strings of slick fluid, the smell of it permeating the air with the scent of rutting Vanguard youth. Completely losing track of time, Tusker dimly felt his attacker climax and collapse on top of him. At some stage he had also blown out, the delicious friction between their two bodies driving him over the edge. The jaws around his throat released him and he felt a warm sensation when the other Vanguard licked gently at the black blood flowing sluggishly from the mostly superficial wounds. When he opened his eyes, he locked gaze with the other Vanguard who stopped licking and stared back at him. "You should not have done that, you know very well I am currently on duty," Tusker tried to look reproachful, but failed. He partially closed all four of his eyelids and sighed, weary and sore. But satisfied. Two-Talon rolled off the warrior and onto his back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before he turned his head and stared at his bond-mate. "Duty, duty, duty! Ancestors curse you, lover! You are always on duty!" Snarling out his complaint, he snapped his jaw shut with irritation. "You are correct; I know that duty is important to you. However, I require your assurance that I am also important to you. It is not much to request, correct hrrr?" Tusker sighed. Here we go. Again. "Of course you are important to me. However, you also knew there would be sacrifices we would both need to make. Hrrr, I cannot - must not - allow pleasure to interfere with my role -" "You did not attempt to prevent me from rutting with you with much vigor," the medic interrupted him with a grumble, still feeling put out and annoyed. Grabbing his skinsuit that had been roughly torn off by the medic a few minutes earlier, Tusker growled, but said nothing while he struggled back into it. He was proud that he had been chosen for this exploratory mission. Many other warriors had applied and been denied; the elders in their wisdom deciding that including at least one pair of bond-mates would be good for the stability of the crew. As much as he loved his bond-mate - and he did so with all of his hearts, he despaired of the differences that were beginning to drive a wedge between them. On more than one occasion, Two-Talon had come dangerously close to attracting the attention of the military internal security with his outspokenness about the way the Vanguard Empire conducted its business. True, there were aspects of Vanguard culture that left much to be desired but there wasn't a lot you could do about it. Some of Two-Talon's outrageous ideas were seductive, but that only made them all the more dangerous. If his bond-mate didn't begin to wise up to the peril he was putting them in he would likely end up taking them both down. It was easier and safer to conform... When he had finished squeezing his muscular bulk into the tattered remains of his skinsuit, he stood and regarded Two-Talon who had beaten him to the post and was already dressed. Although he felt sticky and abused, he had to admit that he had enjoyed the surprise rutting. It was fortunate they hadn't been observed, he thought somewhat relieved. Reaching out, he laid two of his hands on his bond-mate's shoulders. "I realize you dislike what the Empire has become. However, for better or worse, we are both components of that Empire. You know I love and respect you and I know you love me - can you at least attempt to respect me_,_ hrrr_?_ Before you respond; you are correct, I did enjoy the experience. Are you not able to tell?" Tusker asked with a slight smile, indicating the juices that stained the front of his tattered skinsuit and were no doubt now dripping down the underside of his tail. Two-Talon slipped out from under his hands and lumbered toward the hatch, turning just when he arrived. He gave Tusker a look that was half pitying and half something else the warrior didn't recognize. "I will see you when - if - you ever get off duty," he rumbled coldly, ignoring the olive branch of peace being offered to him by his bond-mate. He turned and departed, deliberately pushing past the two older warriors who were returning from their briefing. The two warriors gave each other a questioning glance when they turned and watched the medic storm away down the corridor. When they entered the weapons store, Tusker had turned away and began attacking the pile of shock-lances still to have their power supplies replaced. Slash-To-Kill picked up an assault rifle and oily rag from his workbench but stopped and swung his head around, sniffing at the air suspiciously. When he glanced at the deck and saw smeared blood as well as other, less readily identified fluids, he snapped his head up and glared at Tusker. He slammed the partially assembled rifle onto the workbench, making Tusker and Fleet-Of-Foot spin around and stare at him, startled. "What have you two filthy little Sirian mud-worms been doing in here?" he roared at the young warrior, scuffing his foot in the offending evidence. His look of disgust turned to genuine anger when he noticed the state of Tusker's warrior-issue skinsuit and the damning stains on the front of it. "I...hrrr...we were -" "Actually, I understand exactly what you were doing," Slash-To-Kill spat angrily, interrupting him. "I am just having difficulty in believing you were doing that here. You are on duty, hrrr? Does that mean nothing to you?" Tusker tried to take a step back, away from the older warrior's fury, however his back was already pressed against his own workbench, preventing his retreat. 'Oh Revered Ancestors,' he pleaded silently in his mind, 'I could really use your wisdom now!' Unfortunately, the requested wisdom was not forthcoming."You are unfit to wear that uniform, spawnling. Get out of my sight and do not return until you appear respectable, impossible as that may be." If the warrior had been almost anyone else, Tusker would have challenged him on the spot. But this warrior intimidated him something fierce and he was afraid that the naked anger being displayed would quickly turn to violence if he were stupid enough to challenge him. That was a fight he could not survive. So, wisely picking his battles, he departed, giving Slash-To-Kill a very wide berth. "You should go and see the medic for that limp of yours, spawnling. Hrrr!" Fleet-Of-Foot jeered at him when he passed. Tusker thundered down the corridor to the quarters he shared with Two-Talon in order to get cleaned up and changed. Furious with himself and with his bond-mate for putting him in this position.
* * *
Several hours later the Victorious-Hunting coasted in toward the Moon, slipping into a parking orbit inside a Lagrange point, out of direct line of sight from the Earth. Shutting down the sub-light drive, Stares-Into-Space collected a bag full of small datapads lying around nearby and made her way to the rear of the vessel where the shuttle hangar was located. In between repairs to the various sub-space breach drive systems, she had managed to partially decipher several of the more common human languages and had cobbled together a basic translation database. This had taken several days, even with Crater's assistance and she wasn't convinced that it would hold up very well if they actually had to end up talking to any of the humans. However, given that one of their mission objectives was to just observe, rather than interact with any of the peculiar looking aliens, she really didn't give a shit. Not that she mentioned this to the pack-leader... Vanguard physiology meant they wouldn't be able to speak any of the human languages themselves; their vocal cords, vocal range and mouth structure just wouldn't support it. Stares-Into-Space handed the datapads loaded with the language database to each member of the landing party. "Given that you are not to have any contact with the aliens, the limitations of the translation database should cause minimal disruption to your mission. Remember, the atmosphere is breathable, albeit filthy and contaminated. You should limit your exposure to no more than seven hours," she rumbled, thankful she hadn't been asked to accompany the landing team herself. "It is Winter in the Northern Hemisphere countries, so you have several hours of darkness that should be sufficient for your initial scouting mission." The assembled warriors turned to Two-Talon, when he took over from the engineer. "You will not be required to concern yourselves regarding native micro-organisms. Our physiology is sufficiently alien so that they should have little or no effect. However, I would recommend that you avoid eating or drinking any native consumables as they may have unpredictable results." "Will we be required to submit to decontamination procedures on our return?" Fleet-Of-Foot asked, remembering the last time he had to do so; it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. "Hrrr, not unless you specifically want to," Two-Talon leered at him, ignoring the annoyed and vaguely jealous look Tusker directed at him. The medic huffed with laughter when Fleet-Of-Foot shuddered and looked extremely uncomfortable while he shuffled from foot to foot, looking everywhere but back at him. While activating the hatch on the small ship-to-surface transport shuttle, Swift-Death again reminded the landing party about the requirement for caution on the mission. "You will avoid the natives - this is imperative. However and most importantly, do not allow yourselves to be compromised. Crater has rigged the shock-lance power-packs to overload if required. This will cause considerable damage and ensure that there will be little remaining of you, or anything nearby, for their engineers or medics to examine. You are expected to avoid any situations where that becomes necessary, however." Fleet-Of-Foot clambered into the cramped interior of the small shuttle, followed by Slash-To-Kill and Crater. Tusker was about to enter, when he was stopped by his bond-mate. He stepped back and turned to face the medic, a slight frown marring his craggy features. "Hrrr, you know I that I have been unhappy about how things have been between us recently. However, I do not desire for you to depart without the knowledge that I still love you with all my being," Two-Talon reached out and ran a single talon along the length of Tusker's bottom jaw. "It is a long flight home and I have no desire to spend it alone." Tusker blinked at the unexpected show of emotion and snapped his jaw shut softly in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to say anything. He leaned forward and briefly licked Two-Talon's face, before he ducked into the open hatch and secured it behind him. Stares-Into-Space and Swift-Death followed Two-Talon from the shuttle-bay, sealing the large hatch behind them. The engineer tipped her head back, exposing her neck to the pack-leader in a show of respect before striding away, back to repair the breach-drive generator gantry that she'd been putting off. Swift-Death stood beside Two-Talon in a small armored plexiglass viewing blister, not far from the shuttle hangar. The pack-leader stared at the mottled gray and brown moon floating serenely in space, occasionally stealing a glance at the young medic from the corners of his eyes. "Your warrior is young, however I believe he is quite capable. I would not have selected him for this mission if I had any doubts about his abilities," he rumbled in a reassuring tone. 'You are the one, however, that I have serious concerns regarding', he narrowed his eyes slightly and kept his attention focused on the scene outside. There was a small jolt when the hangar depressurized and the shuttle emerged into view, small puffs of reaction gas visible from the maneuvering thrusters while its pilot put some distance between the two vessels before activating its gravitic sub-light engines. Still giving the medic surreptitious glances, Swift-Death had major misgivings about having Two-Talon on this exploration mission. Although his credentials were impeccable and there was no doubt he was one of the most highly-rated medics that their colony world possessed, there was something about him that he just didn't trust. There were increasing problems on many of the Vanguard worlds. The younger generations were becoming discontented and mistrustful of their leaders. Even the philosophy behind their entire culture was coming under more scrutiny and attack. Cultural progress had been stagnating and the Empire was now reaching a size where it was becoming increasingly difficult to manage as a cohesive whole. The colony world of Tau Ceti had only recently been settled after a massive amount of resources had been deployed to terraform it from something that had only been marginally habitable. To the pack-leader's mind, it appeared that a significant number of the settlers were young idealists, desiring to escape from what they perceived to be the more restrictive and repressive Core-Worlds. _Unfortunately, it seemed that t_he medic had all the hallmarks of being one of these idealistic trouble-makers and he was concerned about the effect this might have on Tusker, an impressionable young warrior who showed much promise. The last thing he needed, on this far-flung mission, was unrest in the crew. He was going to be keeping a very close eye on Two-Talon in the future.