He was up in an instant at the tone. He didn’t want to risk getting the Samalian any angrier, not as tired as he was. He hadn’t planned on spending his time sitting here, but when Tristan had told him to leave, Alex had stubbornly refused to do so, and once he’d planted himself here, well, then to leave to go sleep in a bed had felt like he was abandoning his post. Even going for food had been a fight with himself. He entered the house as ordered. The entryway was plain, no table, with flowers like his grandmothers had, or bowl for odd and ends, which his father had insisted was important. The walls were a gray that was—no, that was the permacrete, the walls hadn’t been painted. Tristan silently led him through the house, by an empty living room, an empty dining room, a kitchen with only a table and one chair. They passed a few more rooms, all empty, before coming across a large bathroom, with all the amenities, including a shower in the center of the room. It had no walls, and a showerhead designed to use water. Tristan took a bedroll and a sheet from a closet by the bathroom, and threw that in the next room. “You sleep here,” he said as he turned to face him. Physically he reminded Alex of Jack so much that he had trouble not throwing himself at him and wrapping his arms around that strong body. Until he looked into his eyes and all thought of Jack left him. They had none of Jack’s warmth. “If anyone asks, we’re friends, nothing more. You’ve done what you had to and you’re only staying until someone can come pick you up. Is that clear?” Alex nodded and Tristan left him there. The room was used for storage. Shelves contained boxes of data chips, some with names he recognized as computer manufacturers, but most were unknown to him. Boxes on the floor contained more of the same, and some contained electronic devices Alex didn’t know. He moved them to the edge of the room and looked at the cleared space. The room was large, even with the shelves and boxes he still had fifteen feet to use for…what? What was he going to do? He’d been so set on denying Tristan the small victory of making him go away that he hadn’t planned past that. He pushed the bedroll with the toe of his boot and felt hurt at having to sleep on the floor. He hadn’t had to do that since his first days on Deleron Four, when he’d miscalculated and he arrived at his company provided apartment three days before his furniture was delivered. Surely he deserved an actual bed? He turned to head out to find Tristan and…what? Again, he found himself having to confront that he hadn’t thought this through. He’d thought that bringing the defender would be enough to pull Jack out, let them go back to their lives. Be happy. Still, he could get himself something more than a thin mattress and sheet. He might not be a wanted guest, but he could reason with Tristan. He’d pay for it himself. He stepped out of the room, and noticed the one facing it. Another storage room with shelves, boxes, and a thin mattress on the floor. It didn’t even have a sheet. It couldn’t be. Alex when through the room in the house and they were all either empty, or used as storage. Tristan had a lot of boxes. None of the rooms had a bed in them. His view of Tristan changed drastically in that moment. Where he’d previously imagined him as someone living large, spending his ill-gotten gains like air escaping into space, going back to commit more crimes once he was out, now he saw someone living an austere life of what? What exactly did Tristan do? Going through a few of the data chip he found they were designs and schematics for weapons, ships, security locks, computers. It felt to him like research. The computers at least, Luminex had something like that in its database, a list of all computers ever build so he could study them before attacking an assigned corporation. What was Tristan planing that required him to research all this? Alex went back to the storage room Tristan slept in. He remembered a show he’d watched on a group of people who lived simple lives, slept on the ground in rooms barely large enough for them to fit. He didn’t remember why they did it, but he recalled feeling both admirations and disgust the someone would willingly do that to himself. He looked to the room he was assigned to, and the rolled up mattress, and the sheet. Now asking for an actual bed felt wrong. He wanted it, but if all Tristan had was a mattress on the floor, Alex couldn’t even start to come up with an argument that would justify it. He did need a pillow. The closet where Tristan got the bedroll had two more of them, a few sheets and four pillows. He took one and went to his room to set up his bed. That took only a minute. Then, remembering whose house he was in, he hid knives among the boxes and shelves in the room. Then he sat on the bed and took out the holographic projector. He inserted the chip and Jack appeared. He knew it was really Tristan, but there was warmth in those eyes, a smile that was comforting. So he couldn’t help think of this as Jack. “I’m here, Jack. I almost have you again. All I need to do is figure out how to pry you out of that monster’s mind.” He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he would. He wasn’t leaving here without Jack. He placed the projector on the closest shelf, then thought better of it. If Tristan saw it, would he get angry? Would he hate the reminder he’d been kind and loving for a time. He removed the chip and placed the projector back in his pack. Then he did another circuit of the house. He didn’t see anything new, other than the boxes and bedrolls, the house was empty. He found the door leading to a large workroom, but it was sealed. Tristan didn’t even look up from his work. The thing from the tractor. On the far side of the room Alex saw the computer station, and he reached for his earpiece, but it was a waste of time, it was outside the range. He still put it on, spending a few seconds trying to make it fit more comfortably. When he gave up on that, he waited for it to make contact with the house’s computer. Nothing. There was no computer in this house other than the one in the workroom. Was this an indication of Tristan’s distrust of computers? Or just the way the community was? Most of the buildings Alex had seen were basic. They’d been here for a while, but it was possible they’d decided to keep to a more basic way of life. He made his way to the kitchen, the one place with furniture, if one table and one chair qualified. Both were polyresin, sturdy but utterly plain. The stove and oven worked, but there was nothing in the cooler for him to make a meal with. There was one glass in the cabinet over the sink, the others were filled with emergency rations. Sealed packages containing nutrient bars. Someone could survive eating only those, but there was nothing to be enjoyed in them. Alex felt sick at the thought of eating one. How could Tristan stand them? Jack had loved food, Tristan had to have taste buds, so why these? Alex would have to go to town and get supplies, and something to cook with. First he needed a shower. It ended up being a quick one. The water was cold, and he couldn’t find a way to change the temperature. It reminded him of he and Jack’s first time showering together, their compromise over the water temperature. Cooler than Alex liked, warmer than Jack cared for. There was no warmth in this shower, just like Tristan. Washed and changed—how was he going to wash his clothing? He hadn’t seen a cleaning unit—he headed for the door and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. Then he wondered if he should go out. Would he come back to find the door locked? Would Tristan refuse to let him back in? His stuff was here. Except for the chip with Jack’s hologram, as well as the knives he had on him. He could live without the rest. The trip into town was eventful only in that the general store clerk commented on his clean clothes and he nodded in understanding when Alex explained he needed to make a meal. He kept smiling at Alex and giving him looks. When Alex had paid and was about to leave, the man commented that ‘I hope you enjoy your time with Tech, it’s good he has someone.’ Alex didn’t answer. If this was what people thought already, Tristan wouldn’t be happy when he found out. He was surprised to find the house unlocked when he returned, and set about cooking, making a simple meal of the steak and vegetables he bought. He tried to let the Samalian know he’d made food, but Tristan didn’t acknowledge his knocks. Alex ate alone, then cleaned up. He put Tristan’s large portion in the cooler and found places to put the new plates, glasses and utensils away. With nothing else to do he went to his room and lied down. Even though he had plenty of sleep to catch up on, he had a difficult time falling asleep. The house was perfectly still and silent and it felt strange. Even before his time on ships, where there was always some sound, he’d lived in a large city with all the noises that implied. This house was away from a small community, and the sounds of the woods were faint enough the walls kept them out. Still, it was only a question of time before exhaustion caught up with him. * * * * * Alex came awake with the instinctive knowledge there was someone else in the room. He no longer felt the confusion of waking up in an unknown place anymore. Only the relevant facts mattered. A presence meant a threat. He had the gun out of his pack and pointing it at his opponent as his eyes opened. The large brown form closed a hand around his wrist and twisted it hard. Alex screamed in pain and dropped the gun. His arm was released and he cradled it. The fingers moved, he could bend his wrist. Nothing felt broken. “A nurri 634,” Tristan said, looking it over. It was small in his hand. “Low power, inaccurate, non-lethal, and easy to overload.” “It’s easy to conceal,” Alex grumbled, placing his hand on the floor and carefully leaning on it. The Samalian looked from the weapon to Alex. “Don’t point a weapon at me unless it’s capable of killing me.” He placed the Nurri on a shelf, by a box and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, attack me.” “What?” “Take the blade you’re reaching for and attack me.” Alex froze. He’d thought he’d been discreet in slipping his hand under the pack. His fingers were just touching the handle. A lesson taught by years of living among mercs who didn’t know, or like him. Always have more than one weapon on hand. He didn’t move the hand, but he looked at Tristan. “I didn’t come here to fight you.” Tristan looked at him impassively. “I’m going to tell you this only once. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Now, attack me.” Alex had the knife in his hand as he jumped to his feet. He swung at the Samalian, but he’d already moved. The punch to his face sent Alex back until a shelf was the only thing holding him up. He wiped his mouth and his hand came away bloody. What was going on? Why attack him now? The Samalian looked almost bored as he waited for Alex to do something. He charged, swinging the blade in short arc and forced Tristan to move out of the way. Alex moved in the cleared space and reached under the shelf for the knife he’d secured there. He swung it at he Samalian who’d tried to use his split attention to move closer, and Alex wondered why the blade wasn’t vibrating. He’d set it to start anytime he held it. Tristan’s fist came at him and Alex stepped back. That was a worry for later. It was still sharp. Swinging and lunging, he managed to trap Tristan in a corner, with a set of shelve hampering his movement even more. Alex wasn’t sure just how far Tristan wanted to take this, but he decided he should show him he wasn’t an amateur to be played with. He closed the distance, and swung both high and low, intending to give the Samalian a gash across the muzzle. What happened instead was the one hand was batted aside hard enough for him to drop the knife, while the other was caught at the wrist and twisted. Alex dropped the knife and his cry of pain was cut off by a hand around his neck. Alex grabbed the arm and tried to get him to let go, and the hand squeezed harder. He pounded on it, but it was like hitting a steel beam. He tried to say something, to beg for his life, to call to Jack, but he couldn’t get the air through to form words. He tried pleading with his eyes, but the Samalian’s gaze was implacable. Cold, not showing any kind of pleasure or sorrow. Alex’s vision turned gray as Tristan broke eye contact to look at his furred arm. He dropped Alex and ran a finger through the fur. Alex panted as the Samalian brought the finger to his nose, sniffing it. Only now did Alex notice the spot on Tristan’s arm was wet. His ears straightened and he regarded Alex with something like acceptance. “It looks like you’re not completely worthless.” His face hardened again. “You need to better protect your neck. Be outside in fifteen minutes.” Alex watched Tristan leave, only now realizing he’d been naked during their altercation, and his reaction to that scared him. He wanted him. He wanted the Samalian to take him, here, now. Even after almost dying at his hand, Alex wanted to be f— No, absolutely not. It wasn’t that monster he wanted. He wanted Jack, his gentle lover. He grabbed the vibro-knife off the floor. It didn’t come on. He checked the setting, it was on automatic. He switched it on manually and nothing happened. Opening the handle, he found the small power-cell was missing. He went through the room, taking the other two vibro-knives and the four laser blades, all the power-cells had been removed. When? It couldn’t have been while he slept, he’d have woken up, but they’d all been there when he checked them before lying down. Alex had known Tristan was in the room. He would have known, he would have felt him there and woken up. He knew he would have. Far less sure of himself than he wanted to be, Alex made his way outside. A few minutes later Tristan joined him, his arm washed, seal-gel visible through the fur and very much still naked. They ran for two hours, at a speed that pushed Alex close to his limits, along a path Tristan seemed to know well. When they came back home Tristan had showered and gone to his workroom without bothering to put anything on. The cold shower did little to curb Alex’s thoughts, or how his body reacted to them. He was starved for sex, he told himself. He’d been keeping himself for Jack, and he still was, but Tristan was the body he’d known intimately and now he was reacting to that. He repeated that throughout the day. When Alex left the house at lunchtime, he placed an order at the store for food to be delivered. The plate he’d left for Tristan had been eaten and cleaned, so he figured he could take care of the cooking, it would give him something to do while he tried to work out getting Jack back so they could consummate their love again. * * * * * The next day began with Alex being woken up by another fight, then a run. Now that he had supplies he prepared a meal while Tristan shower. The Samalian ate it without comments, then headed to his workroom until lunchtime, when they headed to the tavern. They came back and Tristan was in his workroom again. Alex prepared dinner, they ate in silence. Tristan went back to his workroom while Alex cleaned up. With nothing to do he retired to his room and fell asleep. * * * * * This became his routine for the following days, until one afternoon when Alex felt he needed to practice his knife handling. He’d taking two knives and stepped outside, where he moved as he’d been taught, and moves he’d worked out on his own. A form came at him and he dodged while slashing. His blade didn’t dig into anything, but Tristan was regaining his balance, a dangerous smile on his face. When he attacked with the knife he held, one of the knives Alex had hidden in his room, he moved fast. Slashes and thrusts Alex couldn’t always avoid. Alex had been trained by an expert. Zephyr had been the best knife fighter, the fastest. He could move in ways Alex still didn’t understand. He could strike faster than the eye could see. Zephyr was a slug. Tristan didn’t move. He transported himself. He’d be on Alex’s left, then the right, and there would be a cut on his arm. Alex had known Tristan could kill him easily, but now he understood that if the Samalian wanted him dead, Alex wouldn’t even know it had happened. The fight stopped when Alex fell to his knees, panting from exhaustion. He had shallow cuts over his arms, his chest and his legs. Tristan had one cut, on his leg, a small one. Alex was too tired to rejoice at having done that. Or to react to the Samalian being naked. He washed up, applied heal-gel on the cuts, took an immune booster, and set about preparing dinner. The next day Tristan dragged him out for another fight, and then one the day after, and the day after that. The days became weeks, a hand to hand fight as a wakeup, a run, utter boredom until the afternoon knife fight, then rest and healing. And the dreams. Sexual dreams weren’t new for Alex. He’d dreamed of Jack and the sex they had had, and would have again on numerous nights. There had been dreams where other men were involved, faceless men, sometime even human, or men from his past he’d fantasized about, but never dared approach. But those dreams were nothing like when he dreamed of Tristan. When Tristan took him, it was violent, without mercy and in the dream he always wanted more. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, confused and ashame of wanting that, instead of what Jack offered, and of having to take care of the state those dreams left him in. In the waking world he refused to acknowledge them. He wanted Jack. He would wait for as long as he had to, he would find a chink in Tristan’s armor, and when he did, he and Jack would be together. The weeks turned into months and nothing changed. Every day was the same, fighting, nothing, food, more fighting, more nothing, food again, and the dreams. Some days Tristan would leave with one of the townspeople to go repair something, and it would mean less for Alex to do. On this particular day, Tristan had left with someone named Ikary, an artisan who worked with fused quartz or something like that. The man had explained it while Tristan had gotten his tools, but Alex hadn’t paid attention. The man had arrived just as they returned from lunch, and explained that one of his quarts extractor had stopped working and he needed Tech to take fix it. Tech had smiled and been happy to, leaving Alex home, because Alex wouldn’t have any interest in that. It was true, but it meant Alex had even less to do. Tristan had mentioned that kind of repairs took most of the day, so that meant no knife fight, which Alex looked forward to. He was sure he was getting fewer cuts now, and in their last fight he’d cut Tristan twice. It also meant no need to cook for the both of them, Ikary would feed Tech as a thank you. He checked his gun, taking it apart and reassembling it, sharpened all his none tech knives, made sure the power-cells were in all the tech ones. He’d walked around the house, twice. He was bored. He was passing by the door to the workroom when he happened to look in and saw the computer terminal, at the other end of the room. How long had it been since he’d checked any of his twenty or so identities? Was the law investigating any of them? Did he need to tweak any of their lives? He looked around before putting a hand on the door and pulling. It opened. It opened? He hadn’t expected that to happen. It hadn’t any of the times he’d tried it before. When was the last one? A few weeks after his arrival. He’d wanted to ask Tristan something. He didn’t remember what. Had he stopped locking it at some point? Or had he forgotten because he’d been distracted? A distracted Tristan was something Alex had difficulty imagining. What kind of security was there? Cameras? Sensors? Would they record his presence, or immediately inform Tristan he’d entered the room? Then he had the irrational fear that this was a test. Tristan had engineered Ikary’s visit to let Alex think he was alone, but in reality Tristan was hiding in the room. Alex almost shut the door. Cameras and sensors were possible, but Tristan wasn’t here. As cunning as he was, why would he do this? He took the portable scanner from his pack and checked the room. It was a basic model and wouldn’t detect the more advanced cameras, those that camouflaged themselves, but again, why would Tristan have something like that here? The room was clear. Carefully, Alex entered Tristan’s workroom. He looked around to confirm the Samalian wasn’t there, then made his way to the computer. He put the earpiece in his ear. “Okay, talk to me.”