Upon a Mountain's Edge Part One and Two

[laurie_ky]

Master Post for A Glimmering From Afar series.

Fandom: The Sentinel.
Title: Upon a Mountain's Edge
Author: Laurie
Artist: Peter Paulos
Pairing and Characters Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg, Megan Connor, Simon Banks, Garrett Kincaid.
Warning: Rape.
Rating: Mature.
Word Count 37,000 words.

Due to the story length, I've had to break it up to post it on LJ. Links to Parts Three and Four; Part Five; Part Six; Part Seven and Epilogue

Summary: Book Three in A Glimmering From Afar series. A task force created to put a stop to the human trafficking of bastards to fund a terrorist group asks for Jim's and Blair's help, using a sweet-root and stick approach. If they agree, they will be risking their bond, their lives, and for Blair, his mind and body.

Author's Notes:Originally posted at sentinelbigbang for the 2012 Reverse Bang. My utmost thanks go to the people who made this story possible: the mods of the Sentinel Big Bang, Patt and Morgan, for their hard work (and for granting me an extension), Patt for being the best cheerleader, Bluewolf for the fantastic and speedy beta, and Pete, for the dreamy artwork.

This story is part of a series, and probably a reader would experience it best by reading the preceding stories, but it can be read as a standalone fic.

A Glimmering From Afar series

I see, or think I see,
A glimmering from afar;
A beam of day, that shines for me,
To save me from despair.

William Cowper

To thee for help I call;
I stand upon a mountain's edge;
Oh, save me, lest I fall.

William Cowper

Upon a Mountain's Edge

Book Three of the A Glimmering From AfarSeries.

Part One

“Hey, Blair, would you fix my desk chair again?” Rolle Ekert asked me, a hopeful tone in his voice.

I looked up at his round, freckled face and put my current project on hold. I didn't mind helping him out; he was one of the MIC detectives who never gave me a hard time about being a bastard convict.

I took care of the desk chair problem while chatting with him about how his little girl was doing in school. When I finished, I returned to working at Henri's desk, contentedly using his slave to check for data on a case. Henri wasn't in the office. He and his partner, Rafe, had flown to the lovely planet of Marna for a day or so to interview several witnesses for a multi-planet fraud investigation.

Once Captain Banks had lifted the ban on my helping the protectors, I'd found myself doing more investigative work than janitorial. It certainly made the hours I spent away from my sentinel's side much more interesting, although I made it a point not to complain about doing cleaning jobs as part of my probation. Anyway, I liked staying busy at work. Being a member of the bastard class and firmly at the bottom of the Hundred Worlds' caste system, I tried to avoid being seen as the stereotypical bastard, shiftless and lazy and dishonest.

I'd studied the history of prejudice in past eras while I'd earned several degrees at the University of Rainier; I was aware that those qualities assigned to bastards had labeled every group of people, including those on Old Earth, discriminated against by groups with higher status.

Somehow, knowing that my birth circumstance was only the latest in a long list of things people had targeted for abuse towards each other was not comforting in the least.

For the next couple of decades, I would be working with protectors both as Jim's guide and as the hired help, and I wanted their respect. I thought that I had earned some consideration from at least a handful of my new co-workers.

I'd become friends with Henri and Rafe, and they had promised to bring me back a couple of the expensive cigars that Captain Banks, the head of MIC, enjoyed.

Captain Banks, or as he'd told me to call him when we were off duty, Simon, had invited me to a poker game at his home, and I wanted to show my appreciation.

He didn't have to associate with a convicted criminal, after all. Even if the said criminal was his detective's guide.

That detective, my sentinel, was fifteen stories below me in a designated room equipped for holographic court, testifying about a case. Jim had spared me from sitting there with him, bored out of my mind. He knew I'd rather replace air filters or mop floors than sit and twiddle my thumbs while he explained to the judge in another planetary system how he'd used his sentinel senses to acquire evidence that would convict the perp.

At least that guy was guilty of the crime he'd been charged with, unlike me. My luck had certainly changed for the worse over the last year. Well, that wasn't quite true. Yes, I'd had to give up everything I owned that couldn't fit in a storage container that could be shoved under a bed. And I'd been kicked out of the graduate program at the University of Rainier. I'd never earn my Ph.D now in Environmental Anthropology.

But I had met Jim, even if he had been the one to arrest me. He'd also been the one to save me.

If not for Jim's claiming me as his guide, the court would have sentenced me to be a mindless drudge for the rest of my life.

I gave a shudder. Even now, when I was protected from that fate, the very idea horrified me.

I discerned a gentle inquiry at the back of my mind. Jim, sensing my sudden turmoil, was checking if I was okay.

I returned wordless reassurance that I was fine, and then I risked actually using our telepathy but for just a moment since I didn't want to distract him from testifying.

“Sorry, I had a little soul-turbulence. The stabilizers have been engaged now, though. Are you done yet with court?”

“No. I have to be available for cross-questioning by the defense. You know what? I think I need to go out to listen to that new band tonight to wind down from my job pressure. Should be fun. Ah, got to go. Love you, Chief.”

I grinned to myself. Jim made it a point to thumb his nose at my probation rules, when he could do it without getting me in trouble. I wasn't allowed to engage in any sort of social activities on my own. On the other hand, if Jim decided he needed his guide with him to go to lectures, museums, and concerts, to help him keep his senses under control, well then, as his guide I was required to do my job and accompany him.

Jim's indulging me like that was sweet of him, although he always grumbled at me when I told him he was just a big lallapop - hard on the outside with a gooey, sweet center.

I stopped my mind-wandering and settled down to analyze the data, looking for patterns, inconsistencies, or other anomalies to point out to Henri when he returned.

I didn't get too far along on my task, though, before my comm vibrated, interrupting me.

I answered it and then shut down the slave.

Time for me to play errand boy for Captain Banks.

xxx

I held the back of my hand up to the skimmer at Secure Conference Room 3's doorway and waited for it to recognize my tattooed ID. I hoped Captain Banks had remembered to add me to the skimmer's data banks. There must be something pretty confidential being planned in there, since this room had extra security features.

The skimmer accepted me and the door was unlocked, then a holographic courtesy message appeared telling me I was free to enter.

I opened the door as silently as I could and pushed the refreshment cart into the room.

Everyone stopped talking, and I caught people looking at me as I arranged the sandwiches, snacks, and beverages on the side table.

This was a task I'd done a lot. People glancing at me and then dismissing me from their thoughts - well, I was used to it. I was a nobody, a bastard doing menial labor. I should have been practically invisible to the denizens of this room. But I wasn't. People were staring at me. Some were frowning, some were just... studying me.

I always kept my eyes down and moved quietly when I had this kind of work to perform. I didn't want my movements to interfere with the meeting. I was as silent this time as I had ever been, but they acted like there was a spotlight on me, showcasing my every motion.

My flight or fight reflex was telling me to get the hell out of there. When you grow up the way I did, you learn to listen to those instincts. I headed for the door, leaving the cart by the table. The cafeteria could do without it for a while.

I actually had my hand on the door when a sharp, male voice called out, “You. Boy. Bring me some kaffee and a pastry.”

Turning, I glanced at the table. There were eight people there, including Captain Banks. Eight pairs of eyes watching my every move.

I walked to the side table and filled a large mug with kaffee. Then I placed a sweet roll on a plate and added a stirrer, sweeteners, and creamers to sit in a neat little pile next to the treat.

I wasn't sure which of the men had made the request. Captain Banks nodded towards the man on his left, and I brought the order to him and set it down.

He grabbed my wrist and turned my hand over to look at the symbol that told the world I was a bastard.

He let go, and I took a few steps towards the door before that same sharp voice barked at me to stand still. I pivoted enough to notice the dour look on his face and kept still. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes traveled up and down my body.

I kept my face expressionless. I didn't know what these people wanted, but I would keep my guard up. At least Captain Banks was here; he'd stop anything that might be dangerous.

I did trust him on that. He'd showed me in the past that he would protect me.

“Take the tie out of your hair.”

Now that was a strange request. If I was cornered somewhere on the street and ordered to do that, I'd be bracing myself to fight off a sexual assault.

I couldn't conceive of that happening here, in the heart of MIC. Not with the head guy present.

I did as he said and slid the hair tie into my pocket. My rambunctious curls, happy to be freed, fell around my face.

“What's your name, boy.” Same man.

“Blair Sandburg.” I kept my voice low and steady.

“You're a damn criminal. You brought the Black Plague to New Rainier.”

I didn't confirm or deny his statement. I hadn't, but only Jim had believed me and even he thought I'd done it at first. Captain Banks had been convinced I was guilty of being involved in the Yana trade, but he'd agreed to my working with his detective and his department. Later, after he'd gotten to know me better, he'd told Jim that he'd changed his mind and decided I must have been innocent of the charges.

Technically, I wasn't guilty. Ethically, I thought I did bear some responsibility. It had been my bird that had been used, although without my knowledge, to bring the plants from Quyllur to New Rainier. Iris, a girl who had caught my eye, and her brother had flown with me a few times from Quyllur to New Rainier. They'd been the drug runners. Still, I'd been careless with whom I'd associated and let have access to my bird.

I wanted to make up for that carelessness, but I didn't believe I deserved the twenty-five year sentence I'd received.

Captain Banks spoke up. “Sandburg, you can leave the room. Stay in the building and keep your comm active.”

I replied with a “Yes, sir,” and held my head high as I walked out of there. I was done with trying to be inconspicuous for those people.

xxx

Silence fell over the room after I'd told Sandburg... Blair, to leave. The task force had wanted to see him, to judge him on various criteria. I hoped they had found him lacking, that the plan would be scuttled.

I didn't want Blair to go undercover, to be at the mercy of corrupt men and women. He wasn't a trained protector, even if he had completed the Academy courses.

Larson, the Chief Special Agent from the IBI and the head of the task force, announced, “If I could have your attention. You've all seen Sandburg now. I'd like to hear your impressions.”

The other representatives of their agencies volunteered their thoughts.

“He's attractive.”

“Wary.”

“Controlled.”

“He's pretty, if you like them short and cute. That mouth is positively sinful. He'll be good bait. It doesn't matter if he's never been a cash boy because he won't be expected to act seductively. As long as he looks like he can follow directions enough to open his mouth or his legs, he'll be utilized.”

“He was unobtrusive until we set off his alarms by staring at him. I think he'll do.”

“He's beautiful. I know women who'd pay a lot of credits to have hair like his, so rich with color and thick with curls. I'd say his sentinel is a lucky man to come home to that to bond with.”

“Like I told him, he's a criminal. But we can use him.”

None of these people cared about Blair. I did, and not just for Jim's sake. Yes, Blair had screwed up by getting inadvertently involved with the Yana trade, but he'd been young and had lived on the fringes of society. He'd bartered with those drug runners, but I believed him when he said he hadn't known about the plants hidden in his old cargo ship.

I hadn't always thought that. The last few months had gone a long way towards changing my mind. Since Jim had claimed him, he'd been more than cooperative and gone far beyond what was expected of him. He'd saved Jim's life just weeks ago. I decided to make it clear that I was in his corner.

“Sandburg is one of my men. I want some assurances that this scheme won't end up with him brain-drained or dead. And a lawyer needs to represent his interests. His sentinel is his legal guardian and he'll need to sign off on Sandburg's involvement. Ellison is finishing up some court business at the moment. I suggest that we spend the time until he's freed up by going over the details of the mission, because Ellison will spot every potential screw-up when you explain the plan to him and Sandburg.”

“Ellison was an Orion's Hunter before joining the Protectors, correct, Captain Banks? He would have been well versed in tactics and covert missions. I think we need to look at his files, too. I understand that he and Sandburg finished up their certification courses recently. How did they do?”

That question came from a judicial investigator, a woman with a sharp mind judging from her earlier comments.

“They had top scores in every category but their telepathy range is easily fifty times further than the norm. That aspect makes them the ideal sentinel and guide team for your purposes. The flip side is that because their bond is so intense any separation beyond three days and they'll be in bond withdrawal. You need to plan for that, if you expect to keep them alive.”

Larson said, “Banks, withdrawal from the bond doesn't mean a death sentence. There are drugs to help with the symptoms.”

“I'm not a sentinel expert,” I shot back. “But I talked with the experts who tested Ellison and Sandburg during their training at Bonaroo. They told me that if Ellison ever breaks his intense bond with Sandburg, he'd probably zone so badly that he'd go into a deep coma and die. Sandburg would spiral down into a serious depression with the most likely outcome psychosis and suicide. They're soul-bonded. When one dies, the other one does, too. So even if you think Sandburg is expendable, Ellison would be a casualty also.”

Larson said, “Rest assured, Captain Banks. We have no intention of sending your men on a suicide mission.”

I wanted to believe him. I couldn't give that trust, though. During my stint in the space services and as a protector, I'd seen too many good men and women sacrificed to further an agenda.

We spent the rest of the meeting breaking down the proposal and coming up with contingency plans.

When I was notified that Ellison had completed his testimony and had left the holographic courtroom, I commed Blair and told him we'd had a spill and to bring a mop to clean it up.

Blair arrived and quietly entered the room prepared to clean up the non-existent mess and from the guarded blank look on his face, get the hell out. I'd seen that expression on his face before, the night that he'd been left at the mercy of his pervert of a probation officer -- when he'd thought I was leaving him there to let her molest him.

“Sandburg, this is a task force and they have something to discuss with you and Ellison. I'd appreciate your cooperation; explanations will come later.”

His eyes flicked to mine, and then he nodded.

“All right. Take a seat. I'd like you to demonstrate your ability to communicate with Jim without his listening to you, or you using a comm. Use your telepathy and tell him I need him to come to this room immediately and not to tell anyone what he's doing.”

I glanced around the table. Rogers, the man who had ordered Blair to serve him kaffee, had voiced the most skepticism of Blair's and Jim's abilities.

“Rogers, give Sandburg a code phrase to tell Ellison. I know you'll demand the proof.”

The man frowned, then left his chair and walked over to Sandburg. He leaned down and whispered something to him.

He said loudly, so we all could hear him, “Don't say anything and keep your hands on the table so I can make sure you're not using your comm. Contact him.”

Blair complied. He kept his mouth shut. Rogers stayed, leaning on Blair's chair, pushing into his personal space. I could have suggested to him that it would be prudent to move away from Blair, but I thought it would be more educational to let the task force see for themselves how a sentinel handled a perceived threat.

The first thing Jim said when he walked through the door was, “The test words were 'Ancestor's Day means nothing to a bastard.' Now, you,” he pointed towards Rogers, “get away from him.” Jim's voice was cold, deadly.

Rogers did, a speculative look on his face.

Jim sat down next to Blair and glared at everyone. He looked pointedly at me. “Sir. Blair tells me that this is a task force meeting.”

“Detective Ellison, Sandburg, let me introduce Chief Special Agent Larson, from the Interplanetary Bureau of Investigation. This is his show and he'll take it from here.”

Larson nodded to Simon and said, “Simply put, we need your help to break a human trafficking ring and connect it to a funding operation for a terrorist group.”

He motioned with his arm, indicating the rest of the task force. “My colleagues are top-level people from the IBI, NRIA, Justice, Security, D and O, and of course, you know Captain Banks. From this point on, he will be your handler. There's no need for introductions to the rest of the task force.”

Jim stiffened. “This is a need to know mission? Captain? Is this a voluntary assignment or am I being ordered to participate?”

“It's not voluntary for you, Detective. You're assigned as an operative, starting now. It's more complicated than that for your guide, and his participation is voluntary.”

Larson caught my eye, and I ceded the conversation to him.

“Detective, I understand that legally you're Sandburg's guardian and it's your decision if he becomes a veiled informant. We're offering to reduce his sentence by a year, in return for his cooperation.”

Ellison regarded Sandburg for a moment, and then nodded at his guide. Sandburg spoke up, his tone polite but firm. “Since my usual duties include guiding Detective Ellison, I gather my involvement would be something outside of helping him control his senses. I also understand this task force's reluctance to name details unless I sign forms to become a veiled informant. But I need more information than what you've said.”

Ellison added, “Whatever it is you want Sandburg for, it's going to be his decision. I'll agree only if he says yes.”

Larson said, “And if he agrees and you don't? What then? Will you override him?”

Ellison shook his head. “Sandburg's my partner, regardless of the circumstances that made him my guide. I'm not taking away his free will in this matter. Let's hear your deal.”

Larson turned towards Sandburg. “Thanks to the results of several different investigations that originated within the agencies represented here, we now have a theory that ties the various threads together. What we need is proof, and we feel the best way to achieve that is to put you in place as bait. Once you're inside we'll use you to gather evidence and keep track as you go from point A to point B. You're a certified guide and Ellison is a certified sentinel. Your testimony will be valid for court, and in addition, we're prepared to give you some vision and hearing recording tech. We've got top people in this field available to do the implantation.”

“Why Blair? Nobody's going to hire him since he's a convict and a bastard, and your agencies, hell, even MIC, all have trained undercover people. What makes his situation fit this mission so well that you're giving your own people a pass?”

Jim had come to the heart of it, and I wasn't looking forward to hearing his or Sandburg's reaction to the answer.

“Better to have the genuine article than try to pass off a fake one. Sandburg's a convicted criminal, on probation. That truth will hold up to any amount of scrutiny. He recently violated his probation, and we can use that to remand him back to court. Yes, I know his probation officer, Joel Taggart, recommended leniency and no further addition of Community Service time. He'll be overruled by a superior.”

A woman at the table made a graceful movement with her hand.

Larson acknowledged her gesture and continued.

“We suspect that the judge who will hear the case is taking kickbacks. He's been sentencing bastards, and only bastards, to permanent mind-wiping and placement in a corporation facility that we believe has ties with a terrorist group. We also have intelligence that some of these mind-wiped bastard workers are being sold for sex. What we don't have is hard proof. Arresting the johns will only result in fines for them, and a scapegoated employee will take the blame for abuse of the mind-wiped. It will be passed off as an aberration, the fault of that employee. The corporation itself will remain untouched. At the most, they'd be given a modest fine. Then they'll go right back to making profits for the terrorist group. Unless we can document that the judge is receiving kickbacks, he's untouchable. It is within his range of judgment to sentence individuals to mind-wiping, so he can't be stopped without that proof.”

“You're asking me to pretend to be mind-wiped and spy on this corporation from the inside? How would I pass the scans?” Blair asked, his voice sounding both worried and curious.

“You'll pass because you won't be pretending. You'll be mind-wiped. Don't worry. It'll be a temporary condition. The corporation will check you in and confirm that you are, indeed, a mind-wiped convict laborer and ready for your new life of drudgery. They'll file your paperwork, and then you're a cog in the machine. All you have to do is to act mind-wiped after your treatment wears off, and we're prepared to give you some help with that. Deep hypno-treatment. You'll have the mannerisms and behavior of a mind-wiped person, but you'll be able to think for yourself.”

Blair was shaking his head. “What about Jim? He'll need to bond. Is it typical for the court to arrange some sort of visitation?”

The woman from the Justice department jumped in. “I don't believe the situation has ever come up before. I'd have to check the records, but knowing that particular judge, he would refuse any requests for court mandated visitation. He'd expect Detective Ellison to break the bond, find another guide. As a matter of fact, we're counting on the judge to deny visitation.”

I watched Sandburg and Ellison consider this, and from their expressions it looked as if the thoughts between them were hurtling back and forth faster than a ball in a sling-slong contest.

Blair sat up straighter. “A sentinel who's desperate to bond might be willing to sell out to the one holding his guide's leash. If a terrorist group is behind this scheme, they'd love to have a detective in MIC on their payroll. They'll offer Jim the chance to keep bonding with me as long as he keeps doing 'favors' for this group, and if he does then they'll have plenty of blackmail material to hold over his head to ensure his cooperation.”

I caught a couple of surprised looks from the others and decided to indulge myself. “Sandburg was a Ph.D candidate. He's quick and he's sharp. And let me make myself clear. I want him back in good shape after this mission.”

Larson said, “Absolutely. We need him to be able to testify at the trials. To be honest, though, this is a risky operation. We will do everything we can to make sure of his safety, but we can't promise guarantees. That's why we're offering to cut a year off his sentence.”

Jim spoke up, a hard edge to his voice, his expression stubborn. “Not a year. Ten years. And when this is over he's allowed to return to the Ph.D program at the University.”

Rogers pointed his finger at Sandburg. “I said it before and I'll say it again. He's a damn criminal. And if he's so bright, I'm sure he's considered that if he and Ellison won't cooperate, then he can still be brought up on probation violation charges in front of our crooked judge and be sentenced to be mind-wiped for real. Not a thing MIC or Ellison can do to stop it, if the Justice Department throws the book at him.”

Jim looked ready to explode, but Sandburg must have sent him a message that he'd handle Rogers. The man had tried to intimidate him earlier, but hadn't been able to rattle Sandburg. Well, I supposed he'd been dealing with that kind of attitude his whole life, having been born a bastard.

Sandburg stood up and addressed Larson, nodding respectfully. “I'm aware of the consequences for not following the probation rules. I broke them deliberately; if I had to do it over, I'd still break them. Jim needed me. I tried to get help, but nobody listened. If I hadn't taken off on my own and persuaded Captain Banks to help me, Jim would have been killed or kidnapped off planet.”

He eyed Rogers, and that respectful attitude took a hike. “And yeah, I knew as soon as Chief Special Agent Larson explained about sending me to court for this scheme that you could hold that over my head.

“So what?” He tilted his chin up defiantly. “You need me and Jim. You need us because we have incredible telepathy. You need me because, as you put it, I'm a convicted criminal already. I have the perfect cover because it's true. How many other guides with my level of telepathy and my background are waiting in the wings in case I say no?”

Jim scrutinized the task force and stood up next to Sandburg, then added, “The answer to my partner's question is, of course, none. And being a certified sentinel I could testify to that truth, based on my observations during this meeting. You prefer certified people. That cuts down on your available pool right there. You're asking us to risk our lives and, for Blair, damage to his mind and his body. We want ten years in return. We're leaving now. Captain Banks can give us your answer.”

I said, mildly, “Ellison, why don't you use a secure comm and talk to that lawyer friend of yours, run this deal by him. If you and Sandburg accept the task force's offer, you might want him to look it over for... oh, loopholes, before the final agreement. And Sandburg, leave first and take the mop and bucket with you. We don't want to tip off any other blackmailed officers that you're involved with some hush-hush task force.”

Sandburg nodded and left, dragging his cleaning cart out with him. Ellison waited a few minutes, which he spent by looking hard at the other people in the room, and then he gave me a brief “Sir” and strode out of the room.

As soon as Ellison was in the hall, Larson asked for opinions. Rogers, as expected, was ready to toss Sandburg back into court to be mind-wiped and suggested that the task force find another sentinel and guide pair.

The D and O guy countered that argument quickly. He'd done his research on sentinels and guides and explained that telepathy to the extent that Ellison and Sandburg had was a very rare talent, only manifesting in pairs that had soul-bonded as well as physically bonded. It had been one of the Drugs and Ordnance sentinels that had suggested to him that Ellison and Sandburg be tapped for this mission. That sentinel had seen their abilities during the recent training they'd all attended and knew that Sandburg had violated probation by that mad dash across restricted space to find Ellison.

After that discussion, Larson took a straw vote. Everybody but Rogers said yes to the ten years clause.

Larson decided to do it Sandburg's and Ellison's way. There was some further discussion on the final details of the plan, which would fall to me to co-ordinate with my men. This was likely the last full meeting of the task force until the operation had concluded. Larson dismissed the group, and I commed Jim to ask them to meet me at my house later that night. Oh, and to see if Mickey could make it. We'd play poker, I told Jim, since I wasn't using a secure comm.

Tonight I'd give them and their lawyer the details if Sandburg agreed to the mission.

xxx

Part Two

Returning my cleaning cart to the maintenance department, I told Micah, the supervisor, that I'd be with Jim the rest of the day. Then I hurried off to meet Jim at the secure comm room where earlier he'd sent his court testimony by holo-emitter.

He was waiting for me by the door and gripped my arm when I reached him, both of us needing to feel connected physically. We avoided most displays of affection at the work, having no wish to feed our coworkers' speculation about bonding and our sex life. We kept our touches to pats on the back, or sometimes a casual arm slung around a shoulder, or in Jim's case, patting me on my cheeks.

I could feel Jim's emotions - fear for me, anger at the disrespect I'd been shown, dread over being separated.

My emotions mirrored his. I didn't like this plan at all. And yet...

Once we went inside, Jim let me go after a swift hug. He went to the emitter panel and started pushing buttons.

He shot me a worried look, as he began comming Mickey. “Chief, you don't have to do this. We can run for the free territories.”

I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Don't you think that bunch upstairs hasn't already thought of that? I'm sure I've been tagged a high security risk, and if we even head towards your bird, we'll find ourselves in custody. Also, think about this: without the right codes to disable the beacon in my leg it could explode if it's removed illegally. I don't want to lose my leg. And even if we made it past the Hundred Worlds' boundaries, bounty hunters would go after me. And you, too, for aiding and abetting me. But Jim, you know I have to do it. I don't want to, but how can I turn my back on my fellow bastards?”

“I knew you'd say that. You'd volunteer for this mission without the sweet-root and stick approach.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah, I would. But they don't have to know that. I'll take the ten years deal. I'll be that much closer to freedom.”

Mickey, our lawyer, answered the comm, and Jim and I filled him in on the offer. He said he'd like to read the final agreement before Jim signed it for me. Mickey and Jim were old friends, and he'd figured out how Jim could petition the judge at my trial to claim me as his guide. Between the two of them, they'd saved me from being mind-wiped.

Once again I had to face the prospect of becoming mindless. I couldn't pretend that didn't terrify me. It did. The level of mind-wiping for convicts would leave me minus my personality and most of my intelligence. I would become a docile, happy little drone, working at whatever menial labor job assigned to me. Jim had been mind-wiped when he'd been saved from the attack on his ship by an old friend turned rogue. His mind had only been lightly touched, leaving him with no knowledge of who he was or why he was on the planet of Quyllur.

He hadn't had his personality taken from him, like the court would have taken mine from me when I'd been convicted.

Luckily, the Sho'nakan tribe had recognized Jim as a sentinel when his senses became hyperactive, and he'd been adopted by them. Many months later, he'd been identified by another Orion's Hunter and his mind had been restored. He never had remembered on his own how he'd been betrayed. Jim had been lucky. He'd been found while the mind-wipe could still be reversed.

And now I was being asked to trust that my mind would be protected from permanent damage.

I stepped out of emitter range, afraid that my expression would give away my fear to Mickey. Jim, of course, would know. Soul bonding meant not ever being able to keep your emotions from your partner.

I shivered, the thought of becoming a drudge, even for just a few days, leaving me feeling queasy and cold.

Jim sent me wordless feelings of love and support, but he couldn't hide from me how worried he was about this assignment. I sensed that anxiety centered on me being vulnerable, but he would be, too. Together, we were strong, able to resist forces that wanted to hurt us, apart, we would be like sticks taken out of a bundle and easily snapped.

He said his farewell to his old friend. We'd see him tonight at Captain Banks' house to finish the negotiations with the task force.

I thought of Quyllur, its blue coastal waters and fecund jungles, and the shaman who had adopted me. Jim's kidnapping several weeks ago had put a delay on our plans to go home and visit Incacha and the Sho'nakan. While I wasn't on house arrest, my probation officer had suggested I keep a low profile for a while, and that included not going off world. I missed Quyllur, the last place that I'd been a free man.

Jim shut off the emitters and the image of Mickey, tall with black, wavy hair, faded out. Jim drew me close and wrapped me in his arms. I felt a rush of love for him, my partner, my sentinel.

We'd go to Simon's house tonight and learn the details of the solar-storm of trouble we'd agreed to navigate.

xxx

While we waited for Mickey to show at Simon's house, Jim and I read over the agreement that Simon had accessed from a secure Justice Department site.

In the document, the names of the terrorist group and the judge were not included, but I was named as a veiled informant, and that in return for my help, I would be granted a reprieve of ten years from my sentence if my work as a veiled informant resulted in arrests. Without arrests, I would only be given a year's reprieve.

The Head of Justice had already signed it; once Jim had added his name, it would be legal.

That would leave me with fourteen years still to serve. Jim diligently kept checking for any leads in finding the actual Yana drug runners, but for this past year there had been no new clues. The supply of Yana on the street had dried up, too.

At least no new victims would find themselves hopelessly psychotic or dead from the Black Plague.

I was restless, and after I'd inspected Simon's bookshelves and picked up each of the fascinating little statues from his angel collection to study closely, he'd had enough.

“Sandburg, those are antiques from my ancestors and I don't want you breaking them. Go sit your ass down at the kitchen table. We're playing poker until Renardo can get here.”

So we played poker, mostly Five Card Space 'Em, although it was hopeless to bluff with Jim, and from his grumblings he felt the same way about me. Still, it kept us occupied.

When Mickey came by two hours later, I'd managed to win a nice pile of change from Simon. According to the law, anything I earned had to be turned over to Jim, so when the doorbell rang I pushed my earnings over to his side of the table.

Simon looked surprised, then I saw understanding change his expression.

He didn't say anything, though, and I appreciated that. It was nice sometimes, to have the illusion of living a normal life.

Mickey handed Jim a bottle when Simon ushered him into his kitchen.

“After our conversation earlier this afternoon, I figured we'd need this,” Mickey said, with an enigmatic smile.

Jim held it up so the clear blue color was visible to all of us. It was the most popular alcoholic beverage from Quyllur.

Simon shook his head ruefully, and Jim managed a quirky smile.

I must have looked lost because Jim said, “Mickey's making a little joke by bringing Agrasa here tonight. Jack, Simon, Mickey and I emptied at least one bottle when we plotted to make you my guide.”

To Mickey, he said, “I don't know if any amount of alcohol, even Blue Heaven, can make this any easier. Blair will be in danger every moment that he's undercover.”

Mickey glanced at me, so I said, “I know that, but I have to do this. Those people being unfairly sent to be mind-wiped need us. You know, as bastards, we generally don't have many people who will stick up for us, so it might be cynical of me, but I wonder if there would even be an investigation if there wasn't the tie to the terrorist group. And besides, I'm pretty sure that if I don't do it voluntarily, I'll be sent to that judge for violating my probation anyway, out of spite, and I'll end up being mind-wiped with no chance of reversing it. That guy on the task force, uh, Rogers, was as mean as a gilly-toad, and he'd arrange it just to see me get what he thinks I deserve.”

“I'm assuming that you've got your house protected, Simon?” Simon nodded. No one would be hearing this conversation. Jim had swept the place, and it was clear of listening devices. Also, there were white noise generators set up around the perimeter of Simon's property.

Jim rummaged in the cupboards for glasses, and Mickey placed his slave on the table.

“Let's take a look,” he said.

xxx

I got up from the table, cards pushed to the side and long forgotten, and stood by the window, looking up at New Rainier's small moon. It was late, and we all were tired.

Mickey had left. He'd shaken my hand and told me that when this was over we should all get together for a better reason.

“Blair, any other questions? Are you clear about this plan?” Simon had explained what would happen now that Jim had signed for me.

I turned to face Simon where he and Jim were sitting at the table and held my thumb out, touched it. Step one.

“A doctor that's been vouched for will be assigned to do mind-wiping at the justice center where I have to go to court. He'll be there at least a week or two before my name is added to Judge Hannity's docket.”

Simon nodded, reached across the table and poured himself two fingers of Blue Heaven.

I touched my index finger. “Next, Joel Taggart will be sent to some god forsaken planet as a consultant to train other Community Service officers in using his techniques for working with at-risk young people on probation.”

I was really too old to be on his caseload. Usually, he worked with kids, but since legally I was a minor again, Community Service had arranged it. Joel Taggart was a good person, and he'd been fair with me. It was because he was a decent man that he'd have to be distracted and sent out of the way. Otherwise he'd raise holy hell within Community Service when his resolution to my violation of probation was overridden by a supervisor. They couldn't afford to have that happen. I was supposed to be just another bastard convict, somebody nobody cared about or paid any attention to for any reason.

Simon added, “By the time Taggart hears about this you'll be mind-wiped and already in place at Crawford Industries. We're not sure if you'll be assigned to a farm or a factory, or work as domestic day help. All the workers are housed in the same set of dormitories, though.”

Jim frowned. “Is there anybody in place at the dormitories for back-up?”

Simon said, “It's being considered. It would be best to use somebody with no connection to any of the agencies here.”

I had a thought. “I have a suggestion, Simon. Megan Connor. She's a friend; we trained together at the Academy. She's an officer on Uluru, and that's about as far from Cascade as you can find. I trust her.”

Simon finished off his drink, got up and stretched and brought his cup to the sink. I could tell he was thinking about my suggestion. “I'll check with Larson. The IBI has the tech we'll need to build her cover. We'll have to doctor her records and give her a false code tattoo. I'll contact her in the morning, see if she's willing to come. We have an officer exchange program with Uluru, and I can swap her for somebody who wants to live on the back-end of the Hundred Worlds.”

“Uluru is a fascinating place to visit. The beaches, the Great Outback, and the history of the colonists is--”

“Fascinating. Let's stick to going over our strategy, okay? I'm tired, and you both must be, too.” Simon was a tad on the cranky side, so I finished naming the steps.

“Okay, the next step is for me to go to court and then we'll see if Judge Hannity takes the bait. If he does and sentences me, then I get the temporary mind-wipe, but first I'll have the deep hypno-session so I'll act mind-wiped after the temp job wears off and my brain returns to normal. I'll also have that recording chip implanted. As you've explained, Simon, it will copy everything that I see and hear, if I tell my brain to record, but it won't be recognized as a listening device or camera since my own eyes and ears will function as the camera and listening device. How does that work, exactly?”

Simon raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like a scientific genius to you, Blair? I'll give you permission to go bug the IBI's scientists to get your answers after this mission, but for now, we only need to know that it's tech that has been verified to work without major side effects and that the recordings are allowable in court.”

Blair narrowed his eyes. “No major side effects, okay. What about minor ones?”

“You might get headaches sometimes,” Simon admitted.

“Once I'm mind-wiped enough to pass the scanners, then I'm sent off to the Crawford Industries intake center. I get processed in, and they double-check my head. And they won't find the chip? Are we sure about that?”

“Crawford is a cheap son-of-a-space-whore, and we've verified that the tech he uses is old and a bottom line model. It's just not sophisticated enough to catch the chip.”

Jim got up and stepped behind me so that his arms were around my waist. I relaxed against him, just a little. “And while Blair is being worked on and taken to the intake center, I'll be pounding on doors for permission to continue bonding with him. I'll start with Crawford himself. I don't want some lower level manager to feel sorry for me and approve the bonding and keep it from getting to Kincaid's ear. The Sunrise Patriots will jump at the chance to have me spy for them so I can keep bonding.”

Jim tightened his arms a little more around me. “Once Jim's approved for bonding sessions, then he'll meet regularly with me. If I get picked to be trafficked for sex, then somebody from MIC or one of the other task force agencies will be in place as a customer. I'll record the payment, the turning me over for sex, but we won't arrest Crawford yet, not until I've had a chance to snoop around and find evidence of the kickbacks. We want proof that the money Crawford is making from the bastards sent to him is going straight to Kincaid's terrorists. Nobody will expect a mind-wiped convict of anything. Even if I'm caught somewhere I shouldn't be at, I'll just act all confused and lost.”

Jim said, “And once Blair has enough proof, we get him out of there and arrest the players. The D and O has the muscle to handle the Sunrise Patriots. They're one of the crazier bunch of fanatics, with their propaganda of doing away with the bastard class. Hell, if they had their way, any child bastard-born or not claimed by both upper class parents would be sterilized and used as slave labor.”

“We got that from informants, but to the public Kincaid doesn't voice his more extreme views. But let him sway the upper classes into supporting limiting bastards' rights and he'll voice his views on genocide,” Simon added.

I said softly, “There's an ancient saying. 'First they condemned those not like me, and I said nothing. When they condemned me, there was no one left to protest.' Kincaid will not stop at getting rid of bastards. He'll come for the common class next, and so on.”

I grimaced. “It's no wonder Kincaid and Crawford decided to prey on bastards within the court system. If you analyze the data, it's clear that bastards receive more and harsher punishment for the same crimes committed by other classes. I wonder if other judges are in their pockets. Really, every judge's records need to be audited for this kind of prejudice.”

Simon sighed. “The Justice department is going to do just that, but not until this operation is completed. They're afraid, and I agree, that a large-scale investigation will tip Kincaid off and he'll vanish to some fringe world again. We've been looking for him for years. The Sunrise Patriots didn't take responsibility for those bombings of bastard schools and the agencies dedicated to helping the bastard class, but we know they were behind them. We just haven't proved it to the point where we could arrest the Patriots. Kincaid and his fanatics are quick to praise the actions of the 'heroes' who did the bombings, though. Hell, they even publicly thanked Michael Smith's assassin.”

I remembered those incidents, and I'd actually met Michael. My mom and I had been introduced to him, and he'd given me hope that I, too, could have an education and a career, despite being a bastard. He'd become the Dean of Education at the University of Rainier. He'd been found one morning, tortured and left for dead, hands nailed to the door of his office like the ancient religion of Christianity's Jesus. I'd grieved when he'd died from his wounds.

Despite the personal risks to me, the chance to take down that hateful group of supremacists would justify the danger.

I could feel Jim silently agreeing with me.

Out loud, to Simon, he said, “When I'm not with Blair I'll be listening to him when possible and checking in with him telepathically. The dormitories and factories are shielded from electronic listening, but that won't stop me. Maybe I should be Connor's contact. We could pretend to be married and find a place fairly close to Crawford's complex.”

I choked a little. Jim and Megan pretending to be married - that was... wow. They were friends, but they'd developed a sort of competition mind-set. I bet myself that they'd start bickering before Megan had even unpacked her bags, if she was willing to come help us, that is.

I sighed. I was tired and longed to go home. We were committed to this lunacy now, and it seemed like the task force had covered all contingencies.

I hoped. “Simon, Yogi the Wise once said, 'what gets us into trouble isn't what we don't know, it's what we know for sure that just ain't so.' All we can do at this point is keep our wits about us and be ready to improvise if needed. Jim and I will see you tomorrow.”

Simon shook his head. “Take the day off. Practice your telepathy. I'll see you the day after tomorrow.”

Jim thanked him and grabbed the half-full bottle of Agrasa. We made our way outside, and Jim said, “Heads up, Blair. Daryl's coming.”

Oh, wonderful. I hoped the evening wouldn't end with Simon's son trying to take a swing at me again. He knew about my Yana conviction and had been very vocal about how I should have been punished more severely. His friend had lost his mind to Yana, so I didn't blame him, but I didn't want to deal with his anger tonight.

We hurried and made it to Jim's run-down classic before Daryl pulled up in his flashy new vehicle. He got out and stared hard at me as we slowly passed him. I was glad to avoid another conflict.

I glanced at Jim, and he smiled, with a quirky tilt of his lips.

“Yogi the Wise, Chief?”

“Uh-huh. There's a whole religion devoted to the ancient Earth sport of baseball, and Yogi was one of their prophets.”

Jim chuckled, and then I was laughing, too, glad to live in the moment and enjoy being with my lover.

We had some tough times coming up but for the rest of tonight and tomorrow, we'd have just me and Jim time. We'd make the best of it.

Continued in Part Three