Meant To Be 8 & 9
Jun. 2nd, 2007 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrHadn't realized I'd be working on this over the weekend, but I'll go with it ^___^
Chapter Eight
Planet 2154014 (Tredad), Settlement Four
Pyotr was going stir-crazy.
He could not remember the last time he'd had nothing to do. Perhaps those first few days upon his arrival on Zero, but even then everything had been a whirlwind of furious activity around him, everyone scrambling to get him settled.
That very first day, he'd been much like this. Sitting in a window, staring out into a landscape that was wholly foreign, nothing like the life he'd known before.
Except…Tredad wasn't foreign, merely loathed. None of his memories of this place were happy; even with time shrouding the details, the thick, oily feel of misery and fear coated those portions of his mind.
His parents meeting with scary people….his parents scary enough themselves…but every now and then his mother had seemed kind, offering candy or a new toy…
Though all he'd seen since that day was the blood. It had been everywhere, and his mother's face…back then, he'd not understood the expression frozen on her face. Only that it was her scary face.
Years later, looking back, he'd realized it was hate.
He'd never been able to bring himself to ask what she'd hated so much.
Sighing at himself, wishing vainly that he had something to do, Pyotr slid from the window seat in which he sat and padded across the chamber to the kitchen area, pouring a fresh cup of tea from the kettle kept on the stove.
He'd already prowled every last bit of the place in search of some form of communication – but had long ago been forced to concede defeat. He wasn't going anywhere unless Jade allowed it.
It was chafing to be so utterly at the mercy of another, when he was all too used to being the one in control. Hundreds of IA officials, not counting the very select group who'd dubbed themselves his 'Pets'. The Lower Chancellors, more officials than he could count.
Now – nothing.
He did not know what to do with himself. This would drive him mad.
Sitting down at the table, Pyotr sipped his tea and let his thoughts wander.
Back on Zero, the trial must be about to begin, if not well underway. That was more frustrating than having nothing to do – not knowing what was happening with the team he'd so meticulously put together over the terms. They were perfect, and would work perfectly together, provided a couple of the more temperamental elements did not make things too difficult.
Still, that was one of the reasons he'd hired Tresnor. Between him and Jundel, the team would be kept in order.
If he ever made it back, though, he did wonder what manner of revenge Bikendi would enact. He hoped the good doctor was not being too hard on Val…and Pyotr would have to apologize to the poor kid, for giving him one of the greatest burdens to bear in all this, and then throwing Bikendi at him on top of it.
Hopefully was as up to the challenges as Pyotr had always surmised.
Assuming the trials were only just starting…yes, one more of his delicate little pieces should be falling into place. Pyotr smirked briefly relaxing in his seat to think of the card that would so neatly be played. Constantly his opponents cheated, forcing him always to use methods less than orthodox himself. Where lives and the welfare of the IG's citizens were at stake, he would do what was necessary.
He would do whatever he could to prevent more victims like himself…like Jade…
Pyotr felt a pang, thinking of the second most awful night of his life.
The controller in him still wondered if there had been something he could have done to prevent it. Over and over again he'd gone back over that night, every single report, all the plans…everything.
All that could have been done had been done. Arkadii was the one to teach him such thoroughness, and he'd put the full weight of that sharp mind into the security measures of that ball. Everyone knew tensions were high, precautions had been taken.
But with the discovery of the assassin, the late Alexander's best friend…it was no wonder all the security measures had been useless. No one could protect against so deep an inside job.
Still Pyotr wondered if he could have done something. If he hadn't been distracted, maybe he would have seen…
He shook his head and drank his tea in one deep swallow, standing to fill it again, then wandered back to the window where he'd been sitting before.
After all these years, the guilt would not leave him – but his uncle had often pointed out with a sort of affectionate weariness that it was not in Pyotr's nature to let anything go, least of all guilt and his self-appointed mission to protect the stars.
Why should he, though? His training even then had been extensive to say the least. He should have been paying attention to his surroundings, to every last detail. It was the first and last time he'd been so careless.
It was also the first reason he'd always kept his distance from Jade.
Jade made it nigh on impossible for him to focus, until he'd learned to firmly keep Jade separate, to lock thoughts of him away.
Because he might have noticed something that night if he hadn't been watching Jade.
So very beautiful. Even as a small child Jade had been lovely. At only twenty Pyotr had noted Jade's remarkable beauty, how clever and sharp the delicate ten year old was. He smiled faintly to recall that even back then, Jade's nails had been carefully painted. A few boys had once teased him – then run off clutching their cheeks, slashed not quite to the point of bleeding.
That terrible night, Pyotr had vanished briefly to take some chocolate treats to Tau…when he'd come back, his eyes had strayed to Jade and been unable to look away. At twenty-six, he'd felt all manner of terrible guilt for lusting after the sixteen-year old Jade…the fact that he knew more than a few other attendees were doing the same thing had not lessened his guilt a bit.
Still, if he'd not been watching Jade and imagining all manner of inappropriate things…
Shaking his head, Pyotr sipped at his tea and abandoned the window to prowl the chamber for the millionth time. Beneath his feet, covered in soft wool socks, the heated floor was pleasantly warm. He remembered the floor of his parents' home, how it had been dead in so many spots. The house had always been chilly, and he'd hated it. Even back then he'd had no friends to whom he could go to escape from the cold which permeated his home. His life.
His uncle had been the first real warmth he'd ever known, and those first few months had been awkward for them both…neither had known what to do with the other, he recalled.
Pyotr grimaced, utterly sick of his own head. This was why he worked so hard – to shut himself up.
Settling on the bed, he retrieved the book he'd been attempting to read before. An actual book, an antique made of paper and ink. Here on Tredad, it must have cost a tidy sum. Such easily ruined items were not often favored.
He shifted to lay back to read more comfortably, and felt and heard his boot bump against something – something that clinked.
Beds on Tredad were generally low to the ground to be near the heat – but off the ground in case something happened and the floor went dead. Keeping them raised also created additional storage space. Stooping, Pyotr pulled out a small, heavy wooden chest which shone with the layers of special varnish which would protect it from the cold.
He recognized the chest; the protective coating was the only change made to it. It was old, well-worn, the wood slick-smooth with age. Only once had he ever seen it, when he'd needed to speak with Jade about something and had chosen to stop by the Alexander Estate since he'd been nearby.
Jade had been in his sitting room, sitting at a table in front of a window through which afternoon sunlight had spilled. The chest had been open, displaying bottle after bottle of colorful nail polishes.
Then, Jade had been meticulously painting his nails a dark aquamarine to go with the elaborate black and dark-aquamarine robe set on a settee nearby. Pyotr had apologized profusely for so rudely interrupting him, but he'd struggled to remember how to breathe, struck by the sight of Jade in so intimate a setting – his hair had not been braided, he'd worn only his underclothes, likely not wanting to risk mussing his bright, costly robe…
More than once on unbearably lonely nights Pyotr had recalled that image, and as he flipped open the chest to take in the bottles of polish, it came back to haunt him with painful clarity.
Gingerly he touched the bottles, picking up one here and there and recalling all the times he'd seen Jade with a particular color.
His fingers faltered as he pulled out a shimmering black – the color Jade's nails had been painted when he'd last seen the man, to match the black and silver of the IG's formal uniform. He hadn't liked it, not really. Though there was a stark, timeless beauty to Jade when dressed in so much black…Pyotr had always preferred him in his vibrant colors. A rich jewel green, matching nails tapping idly against wood, smoothing tucking a stray bit of hair out of the way, just brushing his hand as they exchanged datapads…
Swallowing, Pyotr shut the box and shoved it back beneath the bed.
He needed to get out of here before he did something extremely stupid. All his life, it seemed, he'd fought against his feelings for Jade. They were too far apart, in every way, to ever be together.
Except sometimes…especially when Jade's behavior did not match up with what he knew about the man…moments when they'd locked eyes, and he could see…
They'd made their choices though, and his current situation only made that perfectly clear. He had no idea what Jade intended for him, but Pyotr doubted it was anything good. Or anything he wanted, good or not.
For the millionth time he wished he had something to do – some scheme to begin, one to watch come to fruition, his teams to harass, Tau to speak with, his uncle…anything but this.
Perhaps he was finally getting his comeuppance after all these years.
Closing his eyes, Pyotr once more directed his thoughts to the trial, his team.
The greatest challenge with the trial was convincing the council. Code 19 could only be voted upon by the IG as a whole – that is, one official representative from each planet, typically the leader or an ambassador appointed as plenipotentiary, would submit the popular vote of his planet.
It had taken terms to gain the vote the first time Code 19 had first been used – and ever after it had been called Hearstone's law.
Pyotr had made certain, over the terms, that the Draconis issue became widely known, a popular topic of conversation everywhere. He had not been able to reach every nook and cranny of the IG, but he'd done his best. Those who didn't know them, knew of them or had heard about them by this point. All major locations talked about it constantly.
Then he'd carefully assembled all the best individuals he could to fight for the Draconis, from the finest lawyer to the sharpest political mind to the greatest scientist…and a Draconis that would prove irrevocably that they were meant to be.
His thoughts abruptly scattered as he heard the door unlock, but rather than swing fluidly up, the door started to rise, then faltered – then crashed back down.
Frowning, Pyotr stood and pulled up the handle sunk into the floor, then pulled hard.
He hissed in dismay, to see the crumbled, bloody mess lying at the base of the ladder.
Immediately he swung down, landing neatly on the ground beside Jade's body, carefully checking him, finding a shallow gash on his left side, another one along the forearm of his right arm.
No other injuries apparent, Pyotr carefully hefted Jade up over his shoulder, then climbed the ladder as swiftly as his awkward situation permitted. Once inside, he carried Jade to the bed and deposited him there, then ran quickly to the kitchen area, grateful when he found the medical supplies were indeed stored there.
Rushing back to the bed, he quickly cut away Jade's clothes, then set to work cleaning and bandaging, more worried by all the blood than he liked to admit even to himself.
They weren't the first wounds he'd ever tended – far from it. Nor were they even remotely the worst. But they were Jade's, and that made them all the worse.
When he at last seemed stable, Pyotr rifled through the med kit and pulled out two small pain tabs, pressing them into Jade's mouth. His traitorous fingers lingered on those fine lips, which were not nearly as warm as they should be.
Making sure Jade was as comfortably arranged as was possible, Pyotr moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out two thick blankets, arranging them over Jade's prone form. Once again his fingers betrayed him, reaching out to comb through strands of hair which had slipped free of the braid.
Sighing at himself, making certain the pain tabs had dissolved and been swallowed, Pyotr then moved to clean up everything, throwing out the ruined clothes, setting the medical kit on the table for easy retrieval, then finally realized from the chill in the air that he'd left the door wide open.
He knelt to close it – then realized suddenly that he could go. Jade had attempted to come inside, and fallen, leaving the door unlocked. It was unlocked still…and with Jade unconscious, he could take the man's communication devices easily enough.
Right now, right here, was his chance to escape. To go back to being High Chancellor. He had people waiting for him, relying upon him. Duties to attend, so many obligations, a race to fight for. All day long he'd yearned to be back in the fight. Back in the normalcy of his far from normal life.
But his eyes strayed to the beautiful man in the bed, whose great beauty was as nothing beside the sharp mind that was easily the equal of his own, the sharp eyes, the air of sadness that Pyotr had always understood.
Heaving a sigh, cursing his own selfish foolishness, Pyotr closed and locked the door, then moved to make a fresh pot of tea and some soup for when Jade woke.
Chapter Nine
Planet 00000000 (Zero), the Palace of Eternity
"I welcome everyone to Infinitum Government Special Trial…"
Val listened with only half an ear as the Grand Chancellor rambled through the long, formal opening speech. He clenched and unclenched his fingers nervously, wishing everything would just start.
Nearby, the rest of the team seemed perfectly calm. His eyes lingered on Tresnor and his strange assistant, whose metallic-like hair gleamed in the bright lights of the black and white grand courtroom.
Across the room, all the Councilors and Chancellors of the IG were assembled in their multi-tiered benches, stern and intimidating in the black and silver formal uniforms of the IG. At the top of the pyramid was the Grand Chancellor himself…and right beneath him the glaringly empty seat of the High Chancellor.
High above and all around on the balconies were the voting representatives for the hundreds and hundreds of planets within the IG. Above those, in the highest tier of seats, were the select few permitted to observe the proceedings under extremely severe strictures.
On the floor with the judges and two teams was a small group of other officials – most security; Auths were unmistakable in their weaponry and the menacing air about them. But there was another, sitting quietly off to the side at a small desk, typing furiously on a wide half-circle board while four datscreens flashed and moved in front of him. The speed and familiarity with which he worked was breathtaking – Val suspected he was the one in charge of recording the proceedings. He was not quite young looking, with black hair and lightly-tanned skin, and was probably one of the few officials in the room not dressed in the IG uniform – rather, he wore only black slacks and a white button-down shirt.The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, revealing a strange tattoo on one forearm– from a distance, it looked like a long string of letters and numbers. Val tamped down on his curiosity.
A shift in the Grand Chancellor's tone brought his attention back around to the speech.
"All planet representatives are present and accounted for," the Grand Chancellor said, "except for those of Vrill and Krawl. The dilemma rose only yesterday, when the officials for those planets were suspended until further notice, pending full investigation."
Oh. Val remembered everyone buzzing about that over breakfast.
He'd heard it before, it was hard not to keep up with politics when one was a Draconis.
For years the planets Vrill and Krawl had been at war. Their feud was one of the few things familiar to nearly the entirety of the stars. Few planets clashed in such a long, bitter struggle as Vrill and Krawl since they'd become aware of one another. Most said they doubted the planets even remembered what had started the feud.
However, what people talked about most was the latest scandal – that somehow the rulers of the planets – Queen Dorla Willow of Vrill and Emperor Finnigan Jaz of Krawl – had somehow managed to have a child.
Over whom they constantly fought. The rumors on his disappearance varied wildly – some said he'd run away, others said he'd been kidnapped, others said one parent was hiding him from the other.
Because both wanted him for heir, and it was against IG law for one person to rule more than one planet – too much power.
Recently, only in the past few days, had hard evidence – rather too suddenly, some said – appeared that put both planets in deep trouble with the IG for all manner of law-breaking pertaining to the ongoing feud. As there was no telling who was innocent and who was not, every last IG official involved had been suspended.
Including the ambassadors and plenipotentiaries for both planets. Without a complete array of representatives, the trial could not continue, and it would take terms for the mess to be sorted out.
Val's shoulders hunched, mulling over the other things he'd heard – all the discussions over which planets would likely side with them, which would not, who could be swayed how…
The Vrill, he knew, Tresnor believed firmly on their side. He and Jundel had both fretted over the Krawl, however. The race was notoriously rigid about such things, not trusting them in the slightest. Kreska and Fornar would also be difficult to deal with, but Tresnor had faith where they were concerned. Krawl was one of his greatest worries.
"As none of us wants to see this trial postponed indefinitely," the Grand Chancellor continued, "I call forth one whom can solve at least half the problem." His voice altered, booming out in a commanding tone. "I summon to the court Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow, heir presumptive of Krawl, official heir of Vrill."
The doors swung open amidst gasps and cries which were quickly silenced by looming Auths.
Val's eyes widened as he took in the young man who appeared, stunned that so many wondrous people could be in one place. Truly the man was beautiful.
His skin was pure white, a trait of the Krawl, but the deep green of his soft-looking spiraling curls was pure Vrill, as was his slender build. He was very nearly androgynous in appearance, only a touch of the harder Krawl making his features notably masculine. His hair, all those long, twisting curls, was pulled back in pure Vrill fashion – decorated with beads, twined with ribbon, pulled back from his face in such a way to accent every elegant line. He wore a dark green jacket with a short, stiff collar, opened to display the black shirt beneath, matching his dark, clinging slacks, tucked into matching boots. The ends of the jacket were edged with a bit of fine lace, something only a Vrill could ever manage without looking ridiculous. Jewels glittered in his ears, at his throat. 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.
"Prince Jaz-Willow," the Grand Chancellor intoned as the prince stopped in the center of the courtroom's check-tiled floor. "You have been investigated thoroughly, and your background comes up clean. Moreover, you have been in the safekeeping of the Infinitum Government for the past two and a half terms. I would hear from you directly however, that you have no part in the crimes – under serum, if you've no objections."
In reply, Prince Jaz-Willow stripped off his jacket and pushed up the sleeve of his clingy shirt, then held it out and looked up to meet the High Chancellor's eyes. "Before the court and honored guests, I declare I have no objections to stating my ignorance and innocence of these crimes under sway of serum."
"Thank you, Highness," the Grand Chancellor replied, then motioned to a man and Auths standing off the side.
The man made an elaborate show of opening the case he carried and readying a syringe gun with the oily-looking truth serum that was almost never used, generally regarded as a last resort.
Val felt sick just thinking about it, of having no choice but to answer all questions put to him. Stars, especially now that he had to try and keep so much secret.
As the serum was administered, conversation from above once more began to buzz. After a moment, an ugly yellow-green pallor overtook the prince's face, and an Auth quickly brought him a chair, courteously helping the prince to sit.
Quickly the Grand Chancellor went through a list of test questions, nodding in satisfaction after reading off only a dozen. "Prince Jaz-Willow, did you help either of your planets in the obtainment of illegal firearms?"
"No," Prince Jaz-Willow replied, voice thick and slow.
The Grand Chancellor nodded. "Did you in any way assist either planet in the obtainment of help outside their sector and quadrant?"
The Prince shook his head. "No."
Nodding again, the Grand Chancellor continued to interrogate him rigorously for the next hour. By the end of it, Val thought Prince Jaz-Willow looked as though he were going to be violently ill or pass out. Perhaps both.
"Enough," The Grand Chancellor said at last. "Lower Chancellors, Councilors, declare your vote – is Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow fit to assume the throne of the planet of his choice?"
A resounding unanimous vote rang out through the courtroom, and with a motion the Grand Chancellor ordered an Auth to give the prince the antidote.
Several minutes later, the prince slowly stood back up.
"Thank you," the Grand Chancellor said, bowing his head. "Prince, choose your planet."
Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow sketched a bow. "Grand Chancellor, I choose to assume the throne of Vrill."
The courtroom burst into excited chatter that even the Auths could not immediately control. Finally the Grand Chancellor rang the warning bell. "Very well," he said when silence fell. "Prince Willow of Vrill, will you stand as representative for your planet in the trial of the Draconis, or do you appoint a plenipotentiary?"
"By your leave, Grand Chancellor," Prince Willow said, "I would like to ensure this problem does not easily come up again."
Quirking a brow, the Grand Chancellor nodded. "Proceed."
"Thank you," Prince Willow said, then drew a deep breath. "I declare before the Grand Chancellor and the assembly that upon the circumstances of my death, abdication from the throne, or any circumstance which renders me unfit to lead my people, that my heir is one Teleyeveon Kao, acknowledged son of my uncle, the late Prince Rona. I submit to the court all pertinent documents of his eligibility and willingness to assume such responsibility."
The Grand Chancellor frowned. "Yes, the court is familiar with Lord Kao – it is well known he left home many terms ago."
"Which makes him fit to be my heir. I also bring to the court's attention that before his departure, he appointed his cousin the Lady Koria Mull as his plenipotentiary in all matters. The Lady Mull has lived in seclusion on Mars since Lord Kao's departure. She has agreed to be put to serum to assure the court of her innocence in all crimes of which Vrill has been accused."
Screens flashed as the Chancellors and Councilors all perused the submitted information. When the Grand Chancellor called a vote, it was again unanimous.
"Then, Prince Willow, the Infinitum Government accepts Lord Teleyveon Kao as your official heir to the throne of Vrill. Have you anything further?"
"Yes," Prince Willow said softly. "I surrender all rights and claims to the throne of Vrill, in favor of accepting that of my father's."
There was a pause – then everything positively exploded.
Val blinked, horribly confused.
Beside him, Tresnor abruptly buried his face in one hand. A moment later, Val realized he was trying not to laugh. He looked at the others, and realized that Jundel and a couple others were trying to restrain their own laughter.
"What…what just happened?" he asked softly, looking anxiously to Bikendi, who was glaring at everyone and everything.
Bikendi rolled his eyes, looking thoroughly disgusted – but Val was slowly learning to read the smaller signs that showed the emotions he struggled to hide. The slight curve of his lips, the glint in his eyes – something about the situation had earned Bikendi's begrudging approval. "Pyotr, you conniving bastard," Bikendi said with a shake of his head.
"Quite so," Tresnor said, grinning in triumph, reminding Val very much of the lizards back home after they managed to catch one of the fat birds of which they were so fond but could seldom actually snag. "Krawl was one of our biggest challenges, and Vrill we thought we had but now we definitely do – and all their allies with them."
Val frowned, feeling stupid. "I still don't get it," he said miserably.
It was Bikendi who answered him, voice gruff but oddly lacking in its usual sharpness. "That's because your mind isn't a dark and twisted place like that of every smug politician in here, present company included," he said, shooting Tresnor a look that only made the lawyer laugh. "Prince Jaz just assured that not only did Vrill get a stable ruler, but one who favors and supports the IG – with a plenipotentiary already appointed, who also is firmly on the side of the IG. That done, he promptly switched to taking the throne of our greatest threat. He has just handed our side two very fine allies, all but gift-wrapped. But that boy is far too young to be this politically savvy on his own."
Tresnor laughed again. "Yes, that entire scheme had our High Chancellor's name written all over it. Perfectly planned, beautifully executed – and I can see from the look in the Grand Chancellor's eyes that he knows it as well." He jerked his chin in the direction of the opposing team. "They're positively seething, I think I see steam pouring out of their ears." He smirked and sat back in his chair. "That is round one to us, and the game well begun indeed."
Chapter Eight
Planet 2154014 (Tredad), Settlement Four
Pyotr was going stir-crazy.
He could not remember the last time he'd had nothing to do. Perhaps those first few days upon his arrival on Zero, but even then everything had been a whirlwind of furious activity around him, everyone scrambling to get him settled.
That very first day, he'd been much like this. Sitting in a window, staring out into a landscape that was wholly foreign, nothing like the life he'd known before.
Except…Tredad wasn't foreign, merely loathed. None of his memories of this place were happy; even with time shrouding the details, the thick, oily feel of misery and fear coated those portions of his mind.
His parents meeting with scary people….his parents scary enough themselves…but every now and then his mother had seemed kind, offering candy or a new toy…
Though all he'd seen since that day was the blood. It had been everywhere, and his mother's face…back then, he'd not understood the expression frozen on her face. Only that it was her scary face.
Years later, looking back, he'd realized it was hate.
He'd never been able to bring himself to ask what she'd hated so much.
Sighing at himself, wishing vainly that he had something to do, Pyotr slid from the window seat in which he sat and padded across the chamber to the kitchen area, pouring a fresh cup of tea from the kettle kept on the stove.
He'd already prowled every last bit of the place in search of some form of communication – but had long ago been forced to concede defeat. He wasn't going anywhere unless Jade allowed it.
It was chafing to be so utterly at the mercy of another, when he was all too used to being the one in control. Hundreds of IA officials, not counting the very select group who'd dubbed themselves his 'Pets'. The Lower Chancellors, more officials than he could count.
Now – nothing.
He did not know what to do with himself. This would drive him mad.
Sitting down at the table, Pyotr sipped his tea and let his thoughts wander.
Back on Zero, the trial must be about to begin, if not well underway. That was more frustrating than having nothing to do – not knowing what was happening with the team he'd so meticulously put together over the terms. They were perfect, and would work perfectly together, provided a couple of the more temperamental elements did not make things too difficult.
Still, that was one of the reasons he'd hired Tresnor. Between him and Jundel, the team would be kept in order.
If he ever made it back, though, he did wonder what manner of revenge Bikendi would enact. He hoped the good doctor was not being too hard on Val…and Pyotr would have to apologize to the poor kid, for giving him one of the greatest burdens to bear in all this, and then throwing Bikendi at him on top of it.
Hopefully was as up to the challenges as Pyotr had always surmised.
Assuming the trials were only just starting…yes, one more of his delicate little pieces should be falling into place. Pyotr smirked briefly relaxing in his seat to think of the card that would so neatly be played. Constantly his opponents cheated, forcing him always to use methods less than orthodox himself. Where lives and the welfare of the IG's citizens were at stake, he would do what was necessary.
He would do whatever he could to prevent more victims like himself…like Jade…
Pyotr felt a pang, thinking of the second most awful night of his life.
The controller in him still wondered if there had been something he could have done to prevent it. Over and over again he'd gone back over that night, every single report, all the plans…everything.
All that could have been done had been done. Arkadii was the one to teach him such thoroughness, and he'd put the full weight of that sharp mind into the security measures of that ball. Everyone knew tensions were high, precautions had been taken.
But with the discovery of the assassin, the late Alexander's best friend…it was no wonder all the security measures had been useless. No one could protect against so deep an inside job.
Still Pyotr wondered if he could have done something. If he hadn't been distracted, maybe he would have seen…
He shook his head and drank his tea in one deep swallow, standing to fill it again, then wandered back to the window where he'd been sitting before.
After all these years, the guilt would not leave him – but his uncle had often pointed out with a sort of affectionate weariness that it was not in Pyotr's nature to let anything go, least of all guilt and his self-appointed mission to protect the stars.
Why should he, though? His training even then had been extensive to say the least. He should have been paying attention to his surroundings, to every last detail. It was the first and last time he'd been so careless.
It was also the first reason he'd always kept his distance from Jade.
Jade made it nigh on impossible for him to focus, until he'd learned to firmly keep Jade separate, to lock thoughts of him away.
Because he might have noticed something that night if he hadn't been watching Jade.
So very beautiful. Even as a small child Jade had been lovely. At only twenty Pyotr had noted Jade's remarkable beauty, how clever and sharp the delicate ten year old was. He smiled faintly to recall that even back then, Jade's nails had been carefully painted. A few boys had once teased him – then run off clutching their cheeks, slashed not quite to the point of bleeding.
That terrible night, Pyotr had vanished briefly to take some chocolate treats to Tau…when he'd come back, his eyes had strayed to Jade and been unable to look away. At twenty-six, he'd felt all manner of terrible guilt for lusting after the sixteen-year old Jade…the fact that he knew more than a few other attendees were doing the same thing had not lessened his guilt a bit.
Still, if he'd not been watching Jade and imagining all manner of inappropriate things…
Shaking his head, Pyotr sipped at his tea and abandoned the window to prowl the chamber for the millionth time. Beneath his feet, covered in soft wool socks, the heated floor was pleasantly warm. He remembered the floor of his parents' home, how it had been dead in so many spots. The house had always been chilly, and he'd hated it. Even back then he'd had no friends to whom he could go to escape from the cold which permeated his home. His life.
His uncle had been the first real warmth he'd ever known, and those first few months had been awkward for them both…neither had known what to do with the other, he recalled.
Pyotr grimaced, utterly sick of his own head. This was why he worked so hard – to shut himself up.
Settling on the bed, he retrieved the book he'd been attempting to read before. An actual book, an antique made of paper and ink. Here on Tredad, it must have cost a tidy sum. Such easily ruined items were not often favored.
He shifted to lay back to read more comfortably, and felt and heard his boot bump against something – something that clinked.
Beds on Tredad were generally low to the ground to be near the heat – but off the ground in case something happened and the floor went dead. Keeping them raised also created additional storage space. Stooping, Pyotr pulled out a small, heavy wooden chest which shone with the layers of special varnish which would protect it from the cold.
He recognized the chest; the protective coating was the only change made to it. It was old, well-worn, the wood slick-smooth with age. Only once had he ever seen it, when he'd needed to speak with Jade about something and had chosen to stop by the Alexander Estate since he'd been nearby.
Jade had been in his sitting room, sitting at a table in front of a window through which afternoon sunlight had spilled. The chest had been open, displaying bottle after bottle of colorful nail polishes.
Then, Jade had been meticulously painting his nails a dark aquamarine to go with the elaborate black and dark-aquamarine robe set on a settee nearby. Pyotr had apologized profusely for so rudely interrupting him, but he'd struggled to remember how to breathe, struck by the sight of Jade in so intimate a setting – his hair had not been braided, he'd worn only his underclothes, likely not wanting to risk mussing his bright, costly robe…
More than once on unbearably lonely nights Pyotr had recalled that image, and as he flipped open the chest to take in the bottles of polish, it came back to haunt him with painful clarity.
Gingerly he touched the bottles, picking up one here and there and recalling all the times he'd seen Jade with a particular color.
His fingers faltered as he pulled out a shimmering black – the color Jade's nails had been painted when he'd last seen the man, to match the black and silver of the IG's formal uniform. He hadn't liked it, not really. Though there was a stark, timeless beauty to Jade when dressed in so much black…Pyotr had always preferred him in his vibrant colors. A rich jewel green, matching nails tapping idly against wood, smoothing tucking a stray bit of hair out of the way, just brushing his hand as they exchanged datapads…
Swallowing, Pyotr shut the box and shoved it back beneath the bed.
He needed to get out of here before he did something extremely stupid. All his life, it seemed, he'd fought against his feelings for Jade. They were too far apart, in every way, to ever be together.
Except sometimes…especially when Jade's behavior did not match up with what he knew about the man…moments when they'd locked eyes, and he could see…
They'd made their choices though, and his current situation only made that perfectly clear. He had no idea what Jade intended for him, but Pyotr doubted it was anything good. Or anything he wanted, good or not.
For the millionth time he wished he had something to do – some scheme to begin, one to watch come to fruition, his teams to harass, Tau to speak with, his uncle…anything but this.
Perhaps he was finally getting his comeuppance after all these years.
Closing his eyes, Pyotr once more directed his thoughts to the trial, his team.
The greatest challenge with the trial was convincing the council. Code 19 could only be voted upon by the IG as a whole – that is, one official representative from each planet, typically the leader or an ambassador appointed as plenipotentiary, would submit the popular vote of his planet.
It had taken terms to gain the vote the first time Code 19 had first been used – and ever after it had been called Hearstone's law.
Pyotr had made certain, over the terms, that the Draconis issue became widely known, a popular topic of conversation everywhere. He had not been able to reach every nook and cranny of the IG, but he'd done his best. Those who didn't know them, knew of them or had heard about them by this point. All major locations talked about it constantly.
Then he'd carefully assembled all the best individuals he could to fight for the Draconis, from the finest lawyer to the sharpest political mind to the greatest scientist…and a Draconis that would prove irrevocably that they were meant to be.
His thoughts abruptly scattered as he heard the door unlock, but rather than swing fluidly up, the door started to rise, then faltered – then crashed back down.
Frowning, Pyotr stood and pulled up the handle sunk into the floor, then pulled hard.
He hissed in dismay, to see the crumbled, bloody mess lying at the base of the ladder.
Immediately he swung down, landing neatly on the ground beside Jade's body, carefully checking him, finding a shallow gash on his left side, another one along the forearm of his right arm.
No other injuries apparent, Pyotr carefully hefted Jade up over his shoulder, then climbed the ladder as swiftly as his awkward situation permitted. Once inside, he carried Jade to the bed and deposited him there, then ran quickly to the kitchen area, grateful when he found the medical supplies were indeed stored there.
Rushing back to the bed, he quickly cut away Jade's clothes, then set to work cleaning and bandaging, more worried by all the blood than he liked to admit even to himself.
They weren't the first wounds he'd ever tended – far from it. Nor were they even remotely the worst. But they were Jade's, and that made them all the worse.
When he at last seemed stable, Pyotr rifled through the med kit and pulled out two small pain tabs, pressing them into Jade's mouth. His traitorous fingers lingered on those fine lips, which were not nearly as warm as they should be.
Making sure Jade was as comfortably arranged as was possible, Pyotr moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out two thick blankets, arranging them over Jade's prone form. Once again his fingers betrayed him, reaching out to comb through strands of hair which had slipped free of the braid.
Sighing at himself, making certain the pain tabs had dissolved and been swallowed, Pyotr then moved to clean up everything, throwing out the ruined clothes, setting the medical kit on the table for easy retrieval, then finally realized from the chill in the air that he'd left the door wide open.
He knelt to close it – then realized suddenly that he could go. Jade had attempted to come inside, and fallen, leaving the door unlocked. It was unlocked still…and with Jade unconscious, he could take the man's communication devices easily enough.
Right now, right here, was his chance to escape. To go back to being High Chancellor. He had people waiting for him, relying upon him. Duties to attend, so many obligations, a race to fight for. All day long he'd yearned to be back in the fight. Back in the normalcy of his far from normal life.
But his eyes strayed to the beautiful man in the bed, whose great beauty was as nothing beside the sharp mind that was easily the equal of his own, the sharp eyes, the air of sadness that Pyotr had always understood.
Heaving a sigh, cursing his own selfish foolishness, Pyotr closed and locked the door, then moved to make a fresh pot of tea and some soup for when Jade woke.
Chapter Nine
Planet 00000000 (Zero), the Palace of Eternity
"I welcome everyone to Infinitum Government Special Trial…"
Val listened with only half an ear as the Grand Chancellor rambled through the long, formal opening speech. He clenched and unclenched his fingers nervously, wishing everything would just start.
Nearby, the rest of the team seemed perfectly calm. His eyes lingered on Tresnor and his strange assistant, whose metallic-like hair gleamed in the bright lights of the black and white grand courtroom.
Across the room, all the Councilors and Chancellors of the IG were assembled in their multi-tiered benches, stern and intimidating in the black and silver formal uniforms of the IG. At the top of the pyramid was the Grand Chancellor himself…and right beneath him the glaringly empty seat of the High Chancellor.
High above and all around on the balconies were the voting representatives for the hundreds and hundreds of planets within the IG. Above those, in the highest tier of seats, were the select few permitted to observe the proceedings under extremely severe strictures.
On the floor with the judges and two teams was a small group of other officials – most security; Auths were unmistakable in their weaponry and the menacing air about them. But there was another, sitting quietly off to the side at a small desk, typing furiously on a wide half-circle board while four datscreens flashed and moved in front of him. The speed and familiarity with which he worked was breathtaking – Val suspected he was the one in charge of recording the proceedings. He was not quite young looking, with black hair and lightly-tanned skin, and was probably one of the few officials in the room not dressed in the IG uniform – rather, he wore only black slacks and a white button-down shirt.The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, revealing a strange tattoo on one forearm– from a distance, it looked like a long string of letters and numbers. Val tamped down on his curiosity.
A shift in the Grand Chancellor's tone brought his attention back around to the speech.
"All planet representatives are present and accounted for," the Grand Chancellor said, "except for those of Vrill and Krawl. The dilemma rose only yesterday, when the officials for those planets were suspended until further notice, pending full investigation."
Oh. Val remembered everyone buzzing about that over breakfast.
He'd heard it before, it was hard not to keep up with politics when one was a Draconis.
For years the planets Vrill and Krawl had been at war. Their feud was one of the few things familiar to nearly the entirety of the stars. Few planets clashed in such a long, bitter struggle as Vrill and Krawl since they'd become aware of one another. Most said they doubted the planets even remembered what had started the feud.
However, what people talked about most was the latest scandal – that somehow the rulers of the planets – Queen Dorla Willow of Vrill and Emperor Finnigan Jaz of Krawl – had somehow managed to have a child.
Over whom they constantly fought. The rumors on his disappearance varied wildly – some said he'd run away, others said he'd been kidnapped, others said one parent was hiding him from the other.
Because both wanted him for heir, and it was against IG law for one person to rule more than one planet – too much power.
Recently, only in the past few days, had hard evidence – rather too suddenly, some said – appeared that put both planets in deep trouble with the IG for all manner of law-breaking pertaining to the ongoing feud. As there was no telling who was innocent and who was not, every last IG official involved had been suspended.
Including the ambassadors and plenipotentiaries for both planets. Without a complete array of representatives, the trial could not continue, and it would take terms for the mess to be sorted out.
Val's shoulders hunched, mulling over the other things he'd heard – all the discussions over which planets would likely side with them, which would not, who could be swayed how…
The Vrill, he knew, Tresnor believed firmly on their side. He and Jundel had both fretted over the Krawl, however. The race was notoriously rigid about such things, not trusting them in the slightest. Kreska and Fornar would also be difficult to deal with, but Tresnor had faith where they were concerned. Krawl was one of his greatest worries.
"As none of us wants to see this trial postponed indefinitely," the Grand Chancellor continued, "I call forth one whom can solve at least half the problem." His voice altered, booming out in a commanding tone. "I summon to the court Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow, heir presumptive of Krawl, official heir of Vrill."
The doors swung open amidst gasps and cries which were quickly silenced by looming Auths.
Val's eyes widened as he took in the young man who appeared, stunned that so many wondrous people could be in one place. Truly the man was beautiful.
His skin was pure white, a trait of the Krawl, but the deep green of his soft-looking spiraling curls was pure Vrill, as was his slender build. He was very nearly androgynous in appearance, only a touch of the harder Krawl making his features notably masculine. His hair, all those long, twisting curls, was pulled back in pure Vrill fashion – decorated with beads, twined with ribbon, pulled back from his face in such a way to accent every elegant line. He wore a dark green jacket with a short, stiff collar, opened to display the black shirt beneath, matching his dark, clinging slacks, tucked into matching boots. The ends of the jacket were edged with a bit of fine lace, something only a Vrill could ever manage without looking ridiculous. Jewels glittered in his ears, at his throat. 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.
"Prince Jaz-Willow," the Grand Chancellor intoned as the prince stopped in the center of the courtroom's check-tiled floor. "You have been investigated thoroughly, and your background comes up clean. Moreover, you have been in the safekeeping of the Infinitum Government for the past two and a half terms. I would hear from you directly however, that you have no part in the crimes – under serum, if you've no objections."
In reply, Prince Jaz-Willow stripped off his jacket and pushed up the sleeve of his clingy shirt, then held it out and looked up to meet the High Chancellor's eyes. "Before the court and honored guests, I declare I have no objections to stating my ignorance and innocence of these crimes under sway of serum."
"Thank you, Highness," the Grand Chancellor replied, then motioned to a man and Auths standing off the side.
The man made an elaborate show of opening the case he carried and readying a syringe gun with the oily-looking truth serum that was almost never used, generally regarded as a last resort.
Val felt sick just thinking about it, of having no choice but to answer all questions put to him. Stars, especially now that he had to try and keep so much secret.
As the serum was administered, conversation from above once more began to buzz. After a moment, an ugly yellow-green pallor overtook the prince's face, and an Auth quickly brought him a chair, courteously helping the prince to sit.
Quickly the Grand Chancellor went through a list of test questions, nodding in satisfaction after reading off only a dozen. "Prince Jaz-Willow, did you help either of your planets in the obtainment of illegal firearms?"
"No," Prince Jaz-Willow replied, voice thick and slow.
The Grand Chancellor nodded. "Did you in any way assist either planet in the obtainment of help outside their sector and quadrant?"
The Prince shook his head. "No."
Nodding again, the Grand Chancellor continued to interrogate him rigorously for the next hour. By the end of it, Val thought Prince Jaz-Willow looked as though he were going to be violently ill or pass out. Perhaps both.
"Enough," The Grand Chancellor said at last. "Lower Chancellors, Councilors, declare your vote – is Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow fit to assume the throne of the planet of his choice?"
A resounding unanimous vote rang out through the courtroom, and with a motion the Grand Chancellor ordered an Auth to give the prince the antidote.
Several minutes later, the prince slowly stood back up.
"Thank you," the Grand Chancellor said, bowing his head. "Prince, choose your planet."
Prince Kideon Jaz-Willow sketched a bow. "Grand Chancellor, I choose to assume the throne of Vrill."
The courtroom burst into excited chatter that even the Auths could not immediately control. Finally the Grand Chancellor rang the warning bell. "Very well," he said when silence fell. "Prince Willow of Vrill, will you stand as representative for your planet in the trial of the Draconis, or do you appoint a plenipotentiary?"
"By your leave, Grand Chancellor," Prince Willow said, "I would like to ensure this problem does not easily come up again."
Quirking a brow, the Grand Chancellor nodded. "Proceed."
"Thank you," Prince Willow said, then drew a deep breath. "I declare before the Grand Chancellor and the assembly that upon the circumstances of my death, abdication from the throne, or any circumstance which renders me unfit to lead my people, that my heir is one Teleyeveon Kao, acknowledged son of my uncle, the late Prince Rona. I submit to the court all pertinent documents of his eligibility and willingness to assume such responsibility."
The Grand Chancellor frowned. "Yes, the court is familiar with Lord Kao – it is well known he left home many terms ago."
"Which makes him fit to be my heir. I also bring to the court's attention that before his departure, he appointed his cousin the Lady Koria Mull as his plenipotentiary in all matters. The Lady Mull has lived in seclusion on Mars since Lord Kao's departure. She has agreed to be put to serum to assure the court of her innocence in all crimes of which Vrill has been accused."
Screens flashed as the Chancellors and Councilors all perused the submitted information. When the Grand Chancellor called a vote, it was again unanimous.
"Then, Prince Willow, the Infinitum Government accepts Lord Teleyveon Kao as your official heir to the throne of Vrill. Have you anything further?"
"Yes," Prince Willow said softly. "I surrender all rights and claims to the throne of Vrill, in favor of accepting that of my father's."
There was a pause – then everything positively exploded.
Val blinked, horribly confused.
Beside him, Tresnor abruptly buried his face in one hand. A moment later, Val realized he was trying not to laugh. He looked at the others, and realized that Jundel and a couple others were trying to restrain their own laughter.
"What…what just happened?" he asked softly, looking anxiously to Bikendi, who was glaring at everyone and everything.
Bikendi rolled his eyes, looking thoroughly disgusted – but Val was slowly learning to read the smaller signs that showed the emotions he struggled to hide. The slight curve of his lips, the glint in his eyes – something about the situation had earned Bikendi's begrudging approval. "Pyotr, you conniving bastard," Bikendi said with a shake of his head.
"Quite so," Tresnor said, grinning in triumph, reminding Val very much of the lizards back home after they managed to catch one of the fat birds of which they were so fond but could seldom actually snag. "Krawl was one of our biggest challenges, and Vrill we thought we had but now we definitely do – and all their allies with them."
Val frowned, feeling stupid. "I still don't get it," he said miserably.
It was Bikendi who answered him, voice gruff but oddly lacking in its usual sharpness. "That's because your mind isn't a dark and twisted place like that of every smug politician in here, present company included," he said, shooting Tresnor a look that only made the lawyer laugh. "Prince Jaz just assured that not only did Vrill get a stable ruler, but one who favors and supports the IG – with a plenipotentiary already appointed, who also is firmly on the side of the IG. That done, he promptly switched to taking the throne of our greatest threat. He has just handed our side two very fine allies, all but gift-wrapped. But that boy is far too young to be this politically savvy on his own."
Tresnor laughed again. "Yes, that entire scheme had our High Chancellor's name written all over it. Perfectly planned, beautifully executed – and I can see from the look in the Grand Chancellor's eyes that he knows it as well." He jerked his chin in the direction of the opposing team. "They're positively seething, I think I see steam pouring out of their ears." He smirked and sat back in his chair. "That is round one to us, and the game well begun indeed."
