sensory overload story

[maderr]

One or two of the usual suspects might possibly recognize the 'verse in which the story takes place. For anyone not familiar, I hope nothing is confusing. I tried to write it that in mind. ^_^

I don't know how well I used my prompts, but I didn't force them in so that probably speaks well.

Off to write other things now ^_^



Put It On And Don't Say A Word


Planet 1058714 (Jorgan), doré private academy


“I mean it,” Zon said as an added caution. “Not one word.” The complacent ones always turned out to be the loudest and most aggravating. And this one was also a bit high on the ladder – that added to the instability. Whatever the report said, they never accounted for everything. He waited until the kid had put the anti-tracer on, double-checked it was on and working properly, then motioned to his men. “Let’s go.” He kept one hand locked firmly around the arm of their captive – to any passerby it would look as though he was helping along a sickly companion.

The teachers and headmaster had let them go with very little fuss – it was perfectly normal for Kideon Willow to be summoned away without warning.

Zon ignored the looks cast his way by the prim and proper individuals of Doré Academy. From top to bottom he was everything they were taught to distrust and dislike – at least he’d better be. He worked hard at it.

Ignoring them allowed him to examine the captive more closely.

Kideon Jaz-Willow. Only son and heir of Finnigan Jaz and Dorla Willow. Two people who somehow managed to have a kid despite their mutual loathing. Leaving their offspring caught in the middle, the inheritor of two distinctly separate worlds.

Dorla Willow was a Vrill – what his fellow humans liked to call a walking plant, in a world of sunlight and vegetation. His father was of the Krawl race – ‘cave dwellers’ to most of the universe. Before technology had risen, they’d been blind, adapted to living completely in the dark. Even in present day, they were born more or less blind. Many, like Finnigan and probably his son, had their eyes ‘repaired’ shortly after birth.

Their union had produced quite the specimen. Pictures didn’t do him justice. Kideon Jaz-Willow had skin that no doubt came from his father – completely and utterly white. Flawless. Not a single speck of color or trace of imperfection anywhere.

But he clearly wasn’t albino, because his hair and eyes were shades of green that could only come from his mother. His hair was fine, twisted into loose spiral curls falling down and around his head, just past his chin, dark green like the leaves on a healthy tree. Eyes the color of a young plant. He looked like a doll, one of the antique ones that had become so popular in the first quadrant. The school uniform, dark red with silver trim, did not suit him.

Though his blank expression also flattened him, which was a pity. The kid was far too pretty to ruin his features with such a solemn face.

Well, it wasn’t his concern. He was being paid to do a job. That was as far as his interest went. Zon didn’t loosen his grip on the kid’s arm as they entered his ship. “Get us out of here,” he ordered his men. “Don’t go too fast, but I don’t want to see any dallying either.” He tugged Kideon down the south hallway. “You come with me.”



Custom Class star ship 40811945, The Darkside


The Darkside was a small ship, but it was well-appointed inside and out, and fitted with a trick that made it perfect for the work Zon and his crew did. The only ship of its kind. His eyes moved to the anti-tracking bracelet he’d made Kideon put on – completely pointless now that they were aboard but extra precautions never hurt anyone.

His quarters – a bedroom and the small office in which they currently stood – were appointed in dark greens and gun-metal gray. As he tended to keep the prisoners with him, he kept it plain and largely free of personal effects. Comfortable but boring. Zon liked to think he could make any room a bit more interesting.

“I don’t recognize you,” Kideon said softly. “Oh – am I allowed to talk now?”

Zon quirked an eyebrow. On anyone else, that question would have seemed smart ass. But he sensed the kid was completely serious. “Yeah, go ahead. Talk away. What do you mean you don’t recognize me?”

“I thought I knew most of the people my mother employed to kidnap me. But I guess if I recognize them, so does my father. Still – she’s never sent a human before. She doesn’t trust anyone who isn’t magics capable.”

Zon laughed. “She mentioned that. Must be hard to completely distrust the race that controls the Infinitum Government. But I’m sure she’s not the only one.” He sat down and reclined in his chair, crossing his legs across the top of his desk. “Are you going to be troublesome? You certainly don’t seem like it.”

Kideon shrugged. “I used to struggle. But there’s no point. I’ll stay where my mother puts me for a few months and then my father will kidnap me again.” He looked at Zon with something…sad and hopeful in his eyes. It hurt to look at. “I…did my mother give you a message for me? A letter? …Anything?”

“No…” Zon frowned. “Should she have?”

“…I suppose not.” Kideon’s voice was little more than whisper. He looked at Zon. “Would it be okay if I sat down?”

“Go ahead.” Zon’s frown deepened. He’d expected a spoiled brat, or a moody one – some sort of spark. Lord knew the kid’s parents caused fires wherever they went. He wasn’t sure what to do with the sad, silent thing sitting cautiously at the edge of a chair.

Kideon started to speak again, then closed his mouth and looked at his feet.

“What is it?” Zon asked.

“What’s that strange scent?”

Zon grinned. “It’s called sandalwood. I grew up in the Nippon settlement on Mars – Settlement 9 to most. It’s famous for its exotic plants, especially sandalwood. Most use it for incense and the like. I like to have it onboard – keeps me from going stir crazy on the longer hauls.”

“Ah,” Kideon said softly. “Is that why your skin is so dark? Because you’re from Mars?”

“Yeah.” Zon was amused. He’d ‘retrieved’ more than a few people in his career and most conversations revolved around threats and promises of justice and whatnot. He’d never had a captive who was curious about the sandalwood and the color of his skin. Well, a few complained – quite loudly – about the ‘smell’ but that was different than asking about it.

Kideon looked curious. “I’ve never seen a human with your skin color. I’ve seen the ones that are almost black, and the red-skins from the second quadrant, and the pale ones normal for the first quadrant. But yours is…golden, sort of. Hard to describe.”

Zon laughed. “Do you want to touch it? Make sure it’s real skin?” He realized he was only half-joking.

“I’m sorry,” Kideon said, dropping his head. “I didn’t mean…I should learn to think before I speak.”

“Kid, you weren’t bothering me. I thought it was cute.” Zon hefted his feet down and stood up. “You’re the strangest captive I’ve ever had. Believe me; talking is a nice change from administering threats and the occasional beating.”

“My name isn’t Kid,” Kideon replied, displaying the slightest bit of spark – maybe he wasn’t completely lifeless after all. “Fr…” he fell silent. “Keon,” he said finally. “Call me Keon.” He looked up at Zon with eyes far too tired and old for his years – he couldn’t be much more than eighteen. “And after the first three, I realized it was easier to treat kidnapping just like normal travel. Everything is easier that way.”

Zon narrowed his eyes, unsettled by the words. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped?”

“Usually about twice a term,” Kideon replied. “Since I was twelve. Sometimes three a term, so…including this one, about eighteen times.” He laughed suddenly. “I think my parents take secret pleasure in hiding me from each other. Aren’t there children’s games like that?”

“Yeah,” Zon said. “I played one all the time growing up, got to be very very good at them. You’ve been kidnapped eighteen times? I had no idea the count was that high.”

Kideon nodded. “Yeah. Which reminds me – do you have my things? My Vrill needs polishing; I haven’t spoken it in five months.”

“Someone grabbed it, hang on.” Across Zon’s right eye flashed bits of light, as his In-lens communicated with the bridge. It stopped a moment later. “Someone will bring it right up. Can I trust you alone? I need to go up on the bridge for a few minutes.”

“Yes,” Kideon said with another polite nod, green hair tumbling around his face. “May I…get clean? If we’re going to see my mother…”

Zon grinned, understanding. “Vrill are rather fussy for a bunch of talking plant people.”

The ghost an answering grin flickered across Kideon’s face, but he hid it quickly with another polite nod.

“Go ahead. Somehow I really don’t think you’re going to be trouble.” At least, not of the usual sort. But if Zon wasn’t careful, the kid – Keon – would be trouble of an entirely different nature. He really was pretty, and all that melancholy just begged to be kissed away.

He really needed a vacation. Kavalerov was going to give him one if he had to beat him into signing the papers.



Keon let out a long sigh of relief when the Captain – Zon, he’d called himself – finally left. The room suddenly felt much larger without him swallowing it up. Much quieter. Even when he wasn’t talking, the man seemed loud – too loud. Stars, he was something else altogether. He’d had all manner of kidnappers, from the weird old man to the man who looked evil in every sense of the word – only fear of his mother, Keon had realized later, had kept the man behaving.

Zon was...totally different. Hair to his shoulders, some of it braided, other strands beaded, the color the purest black he’d ever seen. The boots, the tight pants, tighter shirt, short jacket; all of it black, bringing out the dark gold of his skin. And then there was all the gold jewelry. Two hoops and two studs in each ear, another gold hoop in his brow. A small gold ball in his nose. A thick gold band around his throat, another on each wrist, and rings with so many jewels he hadn’t been able to pick them all out. His eyes were so dark a brown they were almost black; the black pupil was barely discernible even up close.

He’d seemed nice for all that he was in the business of kidnapping. At least he hadn’t seemed to care about who Keon was. The ones who debated holding him for a higher ransom always scared him a bit. Luckily that hadn’t happened this time.

Keon played with the heavy metal bracelet around his wrist – an anti-tracker. Meaning that whatever track chems his parents had put in his blood, and there were more than most people could even think of, wouldn’t do any good. Anti-trackers were mostly illegal – only the Infinitum Government could use them. And the IG had precious few of them, according to most.

It took a hell of a…pirate? Is that what Zon was? It took skill and something more to obtain an anti-tracker.

Shoving the thoughts aside, Keon stood and moved to the bathing chamber, dropping his clothes to the floor and showering quickly. The hot water was soothing, relaxing, but he didn’t want to get in trouble by using too much of it. Climbing out again, he grimaced at his uniform. How many schools had he been stuck in over the years? At least as many as times he’d been kidnapped.

After the fourth, he’d stopped trying to make friends. A couple, way back at the beginning, he’d tried to stay in touch with. But it had been a fruitless endeavor.

So he read, and waited until his mother or father sent someone to kidnap him – though they each called it “getting you back.” Did they even remember who had started it? He certainly didn’t, not anymore.

He should have waited until he’d gotten his bags, so he didn’t have to put the uniform back on. Keon had just reached for his pants when he heard the main door open, and in his towel he stepped out into the main room.

Stars, there the room went feeling small again. Zon was supposed to be on the bridge, not holding his bags.

And not looking at him like he was an especially strange, unknown species of animal. “Um…could I have my bag?” Keon asked in a rush.

Zon blinked. “Yeah. Sure.” He tossed a faded, black duffel at Keon, who nearly lost his towel trying to catch hit.

“Thank you,” Keon said, and bobbed his head in thanks before vanishing back into the bathing room and rapidly changing. Why was it so hard to breathe when Zon was around? He’d only known the man, what? A little more than an hour. And in a few more hours he’d never see him again.

Thinking of what would occur in a few more hours brought Keon’s mind around to more pressing matters. He felt tired, heavy, thinking of his mother. Either of his parents, really. His mother rigid, unbending. So busy ruling the world she wouldn’t even greet him, just com him once he was safely ensconced in whatever hiding place she’d selected this time. Probably another school, his mother was especially fond of schools.

His father just figured he may as well learn something while he was in hiding.

Keon rubbed his eyes and finally got dressed, choosing a soft, dark green shirt made from delicate Vrill-spun cotton and brown pants made from a heavier, sturdier fabric.

On his right hand was a heavy gold ring set with a red stone. On his left was a delicate silver ring set with a green stone. The Heir rings of Krawl and Vrill; like many planets in the thirty-ninth galaxy of the third quadrant, planetary rule had been established since the intercession of the Infinitum Government. But the IG, while it could oversee much, could not directly interfere in the matters of planetary leadership. They oversaw the galaxies, the quadrants, and the universe in general where they could. But the planets, unless the problems threatened to extend to intergalactic proportions, were permitted and encouraged to rule themselves so long as they obeyed the IG General Codes.

And so far, his parents had. Vrill and Krawl had not gotten along for three centuries. Keon still wondered how his parents had gotten together long enough to even think him up. But the union had been a valid one, for the whole year it had lasted, and so he was the valid Heir.

They just couldn’t decide which planet he was to inherit. Nor could they have another Heir – he was legitimate until he was dead.

And the chances, Keon knew, of either getting a child as prize as he were pretty slim. All the magics capability of both parents, looks suitable enough for leading the notoriously vain Vrill and slight enough that the caves of Krawl would not trouble him.

Given his importance, Keon thought with glum resignation, he thought his parents would have bothered to remember his birthday. Only when he was a young child, living on a place mutually approved by his parents, had anyone remembered his birthday. And that had been his nurse.

His eighteenth birthday and not so much as a phone call. Just another kidnapping.

But…he was eighteen. Maybe his mother had a surprise planned? And that was why she hadn’t sent a message along with Zon? Keon nodded, deciding this must be the case.

And forcefully shoved away the voice in his head that knew it wasn’t true, that his mother wouldn’t remember his birthday until he was twenty-one and old enough to legally be declared her Heir.

Keon wondered what they would do if he died. But he didn’t linger too long on those thoughts – partly because he dreaded the answer and partly because back in the main room, and office of sorts, Zon was once more taking over the space around him, filling it with his silent, overwhelming noise.

“Hungry?” Zon looked up from the data screen he was scrolling through. “I’ve ordered food be brought up. What can you eat, by the way? Vrill don’t eat red meat, but I know Krawls aren’t terribly picky.”

Keon gave another ghostly smile. “I can eat red meat in small portions. Otherwise I’m not terribly picky.”

Zon grinned back. “Good to know. We’ve got a few days of travel ahead of us and only one or two stops, so picking up special foods would have been difficult. We brought some stuff, but not a lot as we didn’t want to stock up on stuff we couldn’t use.”

“A few days?” Keon frowned. “But it should only take a few hours to reach anything in the galaxy. A few days means…”

“We’re leaving the quadrant, yeah.” Zon smiled reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Keon nodded. “Is my mother just on edge because I’m getting older? That would make sense.”

“Getting older?” Zon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh – that’s right. When you turn twenty-one you’re legally old enough to be declared the acting Heir. So how old are you now?” He abruptly switched out of whatever was on his data screen, pulling up a file that Keon was startled to see had his picture. “I suppose I should have done more than skim this damn thing.” Zon read in silence a moment, then looked up at Keon with a deep frown. “Today is your birthday.”

Keon shrugged.

“…That’s why you wanted to know if your mother had sent a message or something.”

Not knowing what else to do, Keon shrugged again.

Zon pressed a button and his data screen vanished. “No wonder you look so sad. Do they ever do more than kidnap you?” Keon remained silent, stiffening in shock and uncertainty when Zon reached out to brush a few stray, damp curls from his face. “So what do you want for your birthday, Keon?”

“I…I don’t know,” Keon replied, voice a whisper. He felt strange, with Zon so close, and touching his hair, just brushing his cheek. Like he wanted to run away and lean in closer all at once. Like he was all knotted up and didn’t know how to untangle himself. “No one’s ever asked.” He ducked his head, immediately feeling like his words were inappropriate. Don’t say a word. Don’t speak. Be silent until I say otherwise. All his life he’d heard these words. He didn’t know when it was all right to speak anymore, unless he was in a classroom and reciting a lesson.

“You really need to stop looking like that, Keon,” Zon said, his tone of voice strange.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Keon asked anxiously.

Zon sighed. “Not in my book, you’re not.”

Keon looked up at him in confusion.

The sigh Zon gave that time sounded very much like defeat, and he dipped his head – Keon’s eyes went wide when he realized what Zon was doing, and he would have pulled back except for the arm suddenly around his waist, keeping him place—

And he didn’t really know what he was doing, but he tried to kiss back, because suddenly he knew why it was so hard to breathe when Zon was around. He knew he was clumsy, and doing it wrong, but Zon’s hair felt nice in his fingers, and he tasted as exotic and strange as the sandalwood that lingered in the air, and his hands felt nice where they moved along his back, up and down his spine.

“Mmm…definitely nothing wrong with you…” Zon nibbled at his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “Trouble on two legs, Keon, but everything right.”

Keon shuddered, again torn between running away and pressing close. “You’re the first kidnapper to try that.”

“Good,” Zon said, and kissed him again, slowly coaxing Keon into a deeper one, dragging him flush against Zon’s toned body.

He felt dizzy, worse than the time he’d drunk an entire bottle of Coni wine by himself on his fifteenth birthday.

“Now,” Zon said finally said, pulling a bit away. “As you’ve finally stopped looking so damn sad – what do you want for your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” Keon repeated. “I really don’t.” He was silent, too lost in thought to notice the way his hands remained on Zon’s shoulders, tangled in the fabric of his jacket. “Maybe to stop being kidnapped.” He gave an awkward shrug. “But I guess that’s not really possible.”

Zon laughed softly. “We’ll see.” He leaned down to give Keon another kiss when his door chimed and opened. He glared at the man who entered, but sobered when he realized his first mate was troubled. “What’s wrong?” he let go of Keon, turning back into the Captain of the Darkside.

His first mate spared them a curious look, but didn’t pause in delivering his message. “She’s figured it out already.”

“She can’t know where we are.”

“No, but it won’t take her long to share the news and you know what that means.”

Zon grinned. “Yeah, it means the boss is going to get to issue threats even sooner than he’d hoped.” He sobered. “Get back to the bridge and keep me informed. I’ll let the boss know.”

“Yes, sir.” The first mate vanished.

“Hang on, Keon.” Zon soothed his confused captive with a hand through his hair, then strode to his desk, punching a button and bringing up a large data screen on the far wall. A few more buttons called up a man Keon was shocked to realize was familiar.

A well-built, middle-aged man with short, white-blonde hair and piercing, pale blue eyes. He wore the formal black and silver uniform of the IG, the frogs fastening the robe closed at one shoulder shining in whatever light filled the room. He was handsome, solemn, and it was easy for Keon to see why he was unfailingly obeyed. “Yo-you’re High Chancellor Kavalerov.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Prince Jaz-Willow.”

Keon shook his head. “I’m not a prince.”

Kavalerov smiled, an expresssion made him look years young. “As you like.”

“Why are you…what’s going on?” Keon looked from Kavalerov to Zon and back again.

“I’ll explain in a bit,” Zon interrupted. “We’ve more pressing concerns.”

“What’s wrong, Horizon?”

“She’s onto us already, apparently.”

Kavalerov looked amused. “And that’s a problem? She’ll never find the Darkside. And that anti-tracker was made explicitly for the Prince – for Kideon I mean. They won’t get so much as a blip even when he’s taken off ship.”

“I’m not worried about us.” Zon scoffed. “The Darkside will keep us safe until we reach base. I was just letting you know because it won’t take her long to contact Jaz, and for them to contact the IG.”

It was the High-Chancellor’s turn to scoff. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Sometimes I worry about you.”

Kavalerov ignored him. “If they’ve figured things out already, you’d best get here sooner rather than later. Get to Bailar and you’ll have clearance to light jump home.”

“Thanks, boss.” Zon saluted him.

“Of course,” Kavalerov said dryly. He cast another look at Kideon. “Are you behaving?”

“Never.” Zon vowed, then turned serious. “Though I think I may be done playing.”

The High Chancellor rolled his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it. But that works fine for me, because he’s going to be under your care until this matter is resolved to my complete satisfaction. I’ll see you when you return.” With that, the screen went dark.

Keon stood in silence for a long moment, barely noticing as Zon approached. “So…” he looked up. “The IG is kidnapping me now? Why?”

“Not kidnapping…okay I guess it’s similar.” Zon shook his head, clearing his thoughts, beads clacking softly in his hair. “The situation with you and your parents went past ridiculous, past tolerable, a long, long time ago. We’ve been trying to find you for ages, but every time we got close your mother or your father had already beaten us. Finally we intercepted the latest thugs sent to relocate you and took their place, got the location from your mother and retrieved you.”

“So you work for the IG?” Keon was feeling like a Vrill left on a desert planet.

“Yeah,” Zon grinned and stepped back enough to salute. “Captain Horizon Calloway of the Darkside, - better known as the Ghost Ship.”

Keon started. “The Ghost Ship? The one that can’t be tracked or traced?”

“That’s my girl,” Zon said proudly. “Completely immune to any and all radar or similar such devices. Only one man knows how to track her, and I’m not telling anyone.” He grasped Keon’s chin and ducked his head to brush his lips softly. “Though you, I’d be sorely tempted.”

Keon flushed, but didn’t pull away. “Why does the IG care about me?”

“We care that Vrill and Krawl have gotten way out of hand with their treatment of you and the feuding between the two planets. They’re importing weapons and warfare experts from outside their galaxy and quadrant. Never mind all the people they’ve dragged into matters by constantly relocating you.” Zon released his chin to brush aside the curls that insisted on falling into Keon’s face. “We came to rescue you.” He grinned, “And I admit threaten your parents by keeping you on Zero until they behave – but I swear our first priority was you.”

“Rescue me?” Keon repeated wistfully. “I get to live on Planet Zero? How long?”

“As long as you want,” Zon replied. “At least as long as it takes for the feuding to stop, and that takes years usually. And if you want to stay longer…there’s no law in existence that says you have to assume either throne.”

Keon nodded, too stunned by everything he’d been told to comprehend it fully. He was leaving his parents…leaving all of it... A thought occurred to him. “Can I…can I still see you?” he asked in a rush, aware of his audacity.

“Didn’t you hear Kavalerov? You’re being placed under my care.” Zon winked. “No one knows how to hide better than me.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me all this right from the start?”

“Wasn’t sure how you’d react. We didn’t want you contacting your parents or anything.”

Keon nodded, his ghostly smile lingering a moment longer than it had before. “I used to daydream about being rescued, when I was little. I never noticed until now that being rescued is a lot like being kidnapped – even right down to the whole ‘put it on and don’t say a word’ bit. But I think I still like it more.”

“That’s good,” Zon wrapped his arms around Keon, one hand tracing up and down his spine. “But I think from now on, the concern is not going to be putting things on or staying quiet. Unless you object.”

“No,” Keon said softly.

Zon kissed him again, then reluctantly pulled away. “Let me tend to the matter of the light jump, and when we reach Zero we can give you a proper birthday celebration.”

Keon nodded again, and smiled.

“That’s more like it,” Zon said with an answering smile, then left to see that they got home properly and quickly.


Sensory overload prompts:

Sight: Horizon
Sound: Loud
Smell: Sandalwood
Touch: Damp
Taste: Blood