Nor Prison Fear 4/4

[laurie_ky]

Artwork by pattrose

Part One and Part Two and Part Three.

Master Post for A Glimmering From Afar series

Continued from Nor Prison Fear (part three)



“Blair.”

The name was a stone thrown into a lake, the ripples spreading out wider and wider and wider until the sound reached me.

I let it pass through me. It was unimportant.

Jim's soul was hidden to me, but like the child's game of warmer and colder, I could tell when I was getting closer to him.

Cascade rippled below me, the tall buildings, many streets and neighborhoods, the harbor and the more distant mountains images seen through a thin veil. I floated high up above the city, slowly pushing through the air, intent on finding him.

Too far, I'd drifted too far away from him, and with difficulty I turned back, seeking out the heat of our bond. I craved it, and that hunger was the whip on my back, driving me to find Jim, to sink into the bond with him.

Closer now. I was closer now. But I was descending, no, I was falling, and I was helpless to stop it.

“Blair!”

The voice surrounded me, bound me to it and carried me away from Jim. I struggled against it, but I was weak and it was strong.

The city faded away, and the voice was speaking to me again, but still I struggled to free myself, the need to find Jim beating like a captive bird dashing itself against the bars of a cage.

“Blair, it is time. I hold you to your word. Return now.”

Wetness. The cold shock of a damp rag on my face, my belly, my arms. I struggled to sit up, and then fell back against the large pillow I was lying on.

I had returned to my body. And I had failed.

Tears slid from my eyes, and I sobbed, unable to control my voice.

“Drink this, my brother.”

A straw was held to my lips, and I followed her orders. I had failed.

“Rest now. I will bring your captain in to speak to you in a few minutes.”

I tiredly wiped the tears off my face and closed my eyes, a breeze from an opened window blowing away the pungent aroma of the herbs that had helped to lift me out of my body.

Corinna had warned me that the potion I had drunk would open me not only to walking the clouds but also to the fears and pain that I had locked away from myself. Now that I had returned, I would feel old wounds re-opening.

She said it wouldn't last too long, but I felt such despair right now. Jim would be feeling it, too, even while his body was unresponsive. I hoped that when we found him, he wouldn't remember my emotions. I didn't want to burden him with them.

More tears leaked from my eyes, and I turned my face into the pillow to stifle the sounds I was making.

Corinna left me to myself for a time, and then I felt her kneeling beside me.

She felt my pulse, her gentle fingers pressing against my neck, and then brushed the hair away my forehead, humming a little.

“Not long now, Blair. You will soon be yourself again.”

I didn't know what she meant. This was me, the hidden me, the frightened boy who didn't understand the slurs thrown at him, the student who saw doors slam shut for him while others walked through them as their birthright, the son who loved his mother but wished with all his heart that she hadn't chosen to give him life in order to be a symbol of the cause she championed, and the man who'd been unjustly accused and convicted.

Desperate to stop these thoughts, I thought of the good things in my life. My beautiful mother, vivid and strong in her convictions, the satisfaction I felt each time I forced someone to see that their assumptions about bastards were wrong. Jim. Being adopted by Incacha. The joy of learning, which nothing had been able to stop me from relishing.

The tears dried up, and I opened my eyes, wiped at my face.

Smiling, Corinna knelt beside me. Then came the lecture about how I had pushed myself too far, and that the tie to my body had thinned until it was barely there.

She had remained Corinna for this ceremony and not tranced to invite her god to come into her, since gods are fickle and hers could have refused to aid me. It had been safer for me for her to act as priestess only, and not a conduit for Ursha, her god.

I sat up, but when I gathered myself to stand, Corinna shook her head.

“Not yet, Blair. You would fall down as soon as you gained your feet. Are you ready to talk to your captain?”

I nodded, she went to the door and spoke to Captain Banks in a low tone for a few minutes, then left the room after telling me to come back soon and see her and Iya.

I had shifted into a cross-legged position when he walked over to me. I looked up, way up into his face, and he dropped to one knee.

“Blair, are you okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. I failed, though. I wasn't able to get close enough to Jim to see an exact location. But I know the general area he's in, and if you'll do a holo projection of the city I'll show you.”

He pulled out his slave and in a moment we were looking down at an aerial view of Cascade.

I pointed out to him the areas that I had eliminated, which still left a large section of the city.

“Good work, Blair. I'll tell my men to concentrate on finding connections to Oliver within these parameters. If he's not being held on Oliver's property, he might be in some of the abandoned buildings that are peppered through that part of the city, and we can eliminate them at least.”

He stood up and held down his hand for me and I took it, borrowing his strength to stand.

I swayed a little, and he caught my elbow.

“Priestess Santiago has given me strict instructions concerning your recovery, Blair. We're going to my house and you're going to sleep.”

I shook my head and regretted it. “No, I can't, I have to keep looking for Jim.”

He dropped my elbow and stepped back. “Walk to the door on your own steam and we'll join the men searching the buildings. If you stagger or fall down, then you're going to do what I say and rest. I suspect if Jim wakes up you'll hear him, even if you're asleep, because he's going to be shouting for you. Am I right?”

Jim could project a very loud voice while using telepathy. He'd woken me up plenty of times when I'd gone back to sleep after I was supposed to be getting ready for work, even when he'd left our home earlier and was at MIC, meeting with Captain Banks or another one of the detectives.

“But if I'm in the area we're searching I can get to him sooner.” I winced when I heard my voice. I wasn't helping my case by sounding so wobbly.

“And if you pass out you won't be any help at all. My house is within your range, according to the tests you've done. Oh, don't look so surprised. I've read all of your reports and all of the ones sent to me by your instructors from the certification course.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Walk, kid.”

After my embarrassing performance, he wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me out the side door and back into the vehicle.

The last thing I remembered about the ride was Captain Banks comming Henri Brown to arrange for a guard detail to be stationed at his house.

“Yeah, Henri, that angle occurred to me, too. Maybe they want to kill Sandburg to plug the leak in case Jim had passed on information, but they might want him alive as leverage. They could keep Sandburg as a guarantee that Jim works with them.”

Before I could offer to be bait, in order to snare Oliver's men, my thoughts scattered and I closed my eyes.

I fought against it, but sleep claimed me as much as Jim had done, and I surrendered.

xxx

I woke up in a boy's room. I lay there, puzzled, till I remembered that Captain Banks had taken me to his home. This must be his son's space.

There were posters of sports heroes on the wall and a homemade placard that proclaimed this to be Daryl's room, with private written underneath it and underlined three times.

I could have rolled over and gone right back to sleep, but now that I was awake I needed to talk to Captain Banks. I flipped the blanket off and sat up. My shoes were on the floor and I slipped them on, then stood up cautiously.

I stumbled out of the room, tripping over a pair of boots large enough to confirm that Daryl Banks would probably end up tall like his father.

There was a bathroom with its door ajar and I used it, splashing water on my face afterwards. I must have been asleep for hours, but even to my own eyes I looked more than tired.

I heard voices downstairs and I followed them, holding onto the stair railing because I still felt shaky. Jim and I had been separated for a day now, and it had been the longest day in my life. In another forty-eight hours or so, the need to bond would start to affect both of us. We'd find Jim before that happened, though, I told myself firmly.

I collected myself before I walked into an office room where Captain Banks was talking on the comm. I wanted to join the search parties and I knew he wouldn't authorize it if I looked like a stiff breeze could knock me down.

Henri was there, adding data to a holo map, the bright colors a code that I stared at, trying to decipher it.

He looked up when I entered the room, the welcoming smile on his round face fading quickly.

He stopped what he was doing and came over to me, enveloping me in one of his trademark hugs.

“Hairboy. Hey. How're you doing?”

I shrugged. “I'm fine, H. Any news?”

“Well, they've cleared a few abandoned buildings, and Simon's organizing sentinel and guide teams to help with the search. What about you? Jim talked to you yet?”

I shook my head. “I want to help the search teams.”

Captain Banks ordered his comm off and spoke up. “Go eat something first. The kitchen is that way.” He waved in the direction I had come from and then started another comm call.

H went back to working on the map, and I walked out. If it took me eating a sandwich to earn a place on the search teams, then I'd eat one in record time.

The kitchen was large, brightly painted, and filled with cupboards and windows. It wasn't empty. A teenager, who looked to be seventeen or eighteen, was sitting at a large table, his slave and textbook tablets strewn around him.

He looked up when I hesitantly entered the room. “I, ah, didn't mean to disturb you. Captain Banks, is he your father?” The boy gave a sharp nod, his eyes moving up and down my body. “He sent me in here. Sorry. I'll try to be quiet.”

Daryl shot me a look full of hate. It made me want to recoil, but instead I went to the chiller and opened it, looking for sandwich fixings.

“I know who you are. You're the dross who brought Yana to Cascade. Dad said you should have been mindwiped, but that Detective Ellison needed you, and the judge agreed. My friend loses his mind, but you get to keep yours? It's not fair.”

I had never wanted to eat a sandwich less in my life. I put back the nut-butter I'd found, and closed the chiller door.

What could I say to this young man that he would even listen to?

“I'm sorry. About your friend, and you too, right? You both were tricked into taking Yana, weren't you?”

“You're sorry? You were responsible, you bastard piece of shit.”

He shoved away from the table, face contorted, and attacked me.

Damn it, damn it, perdition's fiery pits, damn it. This was Captain Banks' kid, but I couldn't afford to be slowed down by letting him clobber me.

I easily twisted away from him and put him in a lock, face down against the table.

“I am sorry, although I get why you can't accept that. I made a mistake and innocent people like you and your friend paid the price.”

I wanted to ease up on the hold, but common sense told me I'd better not unless he gave me his word that he wouldn't delay me by attacking me again.

“I'm searching for Detective Ellison, and I'm not going to fight you; if you knock me out I can't help him. Now if I let you go, are you going to settle down or are you going to keep fighting?”

He struggled and cursed me, and I gave up and yelled for Captain Banks to come to the kitchen.

When he strode into the room, I let go of his son's wrists and backed off, hands in the air.

“I didn't hurt him, Captain. I'm sorry, I know he has every right to hate me, but I don't have time for a fist fight.”

“Dad! How can you let this bastard in our house, how can you stand to touch him? I saw you carry him in and you put him on my bed! I'm going to burn those sheets.”

“Daryl, we'll talk about this later. Now you can go to your mom's house or you can leave Blair alone. We need him in one piece.”

“Mom's gone to Aunt Sheila's house for a couple of days. Guess I'm stuck here, but I don't have to look at him, do I? Because I'll fight him again if I have to be near him.”

I spoke up then, hating to see this dissension because of me. “I'll stay out of the kitchen, and I'm leaving as soon as I can to join the search parties.”

Captain Banks grabbed my arm as I tried to walk past him. “Not so fast. Did you eat anything?”

“Not hungry.” I tried to pull my arm free but he wouldn't let me go.

“You haven't eaten anything all day, have you? Sit down.” He pushed me towards the table. I gave in, figuring the fastest way out of this situation was to quickly stuff something down my gut to satisfy him.

He opened the chiller door, took out a couple of packages and placed them in the heater, then barked out the temperature and amount of cooking time. He grabbed a glass, and re-opened the chiller, getting out some green-juice.

He placed the filled glass in front of me, and then went over to his son. He laid his hand on his son's shoulder, and when Daryl shrugged it off, he repeated his action, and this time his son let him.

“Daryl, I know this is hard on you. To be honest, I don't know anymore what the truth is about that kid sitting over there. Maybe he trusted people he shouldn't have and was taken advantage of, maybe he brought the poison to Cascade and didn't care who it harmed as long as it made him money. I just don't know anymore. I've seen him risk himself for Jim and to protect other people. If he did run Yana, then he's been redeeming himself since he became Jim's guide. I do know this; he's not evil.”

The heater dinged and a plate of food was placed before me, and one for Daryl. Captain Banks joined us a minute later with his own plate.

Daryl kept glaring at me, his food left untouched to make the point plain that he wouldn't share a meal with the man who'd hurt his friend so badly.

I understood his attitude, but his father's was baffling me. Captain Banks had always made it plain that he didn't like me and tolerated me only for Jim's sake, but his remarks to his son had sounded like he was starting to respect me, at least a little. And why had he carried me upstairs and put me to bed? If he'd tried he could have woken me up. The man had a shout that could be heard two floors away, as everybody at MIC knew from experience.

I was too tired to try and figure this all out.

Half of my food had been shoveled into my mouth and I couldn't have told you what it was, when Jim's shout in my head rocked me and I dropped my glass, shattering it, and splattering green-juice everywhere.

xxx

'Oh, sweet gods, are you okay? Do you know where you are?'

'Blair, I've been drugged... my arms are restrained... feel queasy, and I've got a really bad headache. I'm in one piece, though. I remember a dream where you and I were at the pool, the one on the upper trail... was that just a dream or did that happen on the spirit plane?'

'We met and you told me about Samuel Holland. Is he with you?'

'No. There's a woman here, restrained, but I'm pretending to still be out of things, so I haven't talked to her yet. Blair, are you all right? I don't think we're on Savanaa anymore, the gravity feels just a shade different to me. It's damp here, no windows, maybe a basement. I smell the ocean. Is it... Yes, we're on New Rainier, and.... I think I'm in Cascade. You can't be more than a hundred miles from me, since we're talking.'

'Yeah, Jim, you're right. And I'm in Cascade. I've narrowed down what part of the city you're in. Captain Banks is working on finding buildings Oliver has a connection to, and I'm going to hone in on your voice in my head, and we'll find you soon. Okay. Let's do some of those techniques we covered in our classes, use my voice in your head as the grounding point and see what else your senses can tell you about where Oliver is hiding you.'

I had held up my hand to stop any questions while I was talking to Jim, and Jim and I concentrated on locating sounds and smells that would pinpoint where he was.

This took a little while but was worth it as Jim was able to give me his impressions. He decided to 'wake up', and find out what the woman knew. He dropped his mental voice to a whisper; he'd keep it at that level so that as I headed closer to him, it would sound louder and louder to me. This was something we had practiced during our recent training, our instructors pleased to have another sentinel and guide ability to hone.

After his voice had dropped down, I stood up and stepped over the pool of juice on the floor. I gathered the pieces of glass to throw away but I'd come back later and mop the floor.

I dumped the glass in the trash; Captain Banks raised his eyebrows at me and I relayed everything I had learned from Jim. Henri had wandered into the kitchen while Jim and I were exchanging information and he searched on the holo-map for the bakery that Jim could smell, and the denser traffic patterns and Jim's estimate of the distances where they were. Jim had told me that there weren't too many people around, but he located his kidnappers on a floor above him. There were three of them, but he couldn't hear any other heart beats in the building. Faintly, maybe three miles away, he could hear a street musician playing his instrument out on the street.

Captain Banks spoke privately with his son while I waited for him at the door. Henri showed me the area that he'd highlighted, based on what Jim had given me. It was an area that was almost a half circle, the ocean swallowing the other half, and included The Wharf, a popular tourist site. It was famous for sea-food and entertainment, and small, interesting shops to browse as people walked the streets, vehicles being restricted to a parallel road with many access points for pedestrians to enter the protected area. That was where the street musician was located; the other areas wouldn't have the customers walking by to drop credits in his instrument case.

Only a couple of blocks from there, though the area changed to a more industrial focus, warehouses located near the docks, some of them out of business, some still thriving. Jim was in one of the unused ones, based on the traffic patterns and lack of other people close by.

The bakery was actually a factory, too, churning out thousands and thousands of different baked items, and was in an area that was busy, and about six miles south from The Wharf.

Our best guess was that Jim was in the middle.

Simon joined us, and I glanced back at his son. Daryl was watching me, anger and grief plain on his face. Maybe, when Jim was safe, I'd try and think of a way to make things right.

No, I hadn't made or sold Yana, but my carelessness was instrumental in it being brought to New Rainier. I wasn't guilty legally of the charges that I'd been convicted of, but morally I held some responsibility. Maybe I could try and balance my karma. I couldn't keep any money I earned, but perhaps I could arrange for it to be donated to a fund to help those who'd been damaged by taking Yana. Karma. Balance. Helping my community. It would be the right thing to do.

It wouldn't change Daryl Banks' opinion of me. It was good that we probably wouldn't ever see each other again, since looking at me was reminding him of his grief over his friend.

I realized that I'd been staring at him as much as he'd been staring at me, and I dropped my eyes.

We left then, Jim's telepathic voice a low murmur every few seconds, and headed for the docks.

xxx

On the drive to the docks, with back up units called in and placed on the perimeter, Jim told me that the woman, Tanya, claimed to work as a clerk for the NRIA. She had a high level of security clearance and she'd helped Samuel Holland get the documentation that proved Oliver's and his backer's involvement with the illegal operations designed to funnel credits and power into their greedy hands.

'She's lying. And these guys here, they must not be the best the NRIA has to offer. Probably they outsourced this job to some local operators. There's white noise silencers set up in this basement, but they aren't working. I'm betting these mooks don't understand what a sentinel can do, or they forgot to turn them on. Listening in to their conversation, they're waiting for someone to show up and pay them, and then they're out of here. I don't know if these are the same guys that kidnapped me and Samuel, or if I was just dumped here. The woman, she's offering to try and help me escape. We're going to break a light bulb, use the fragments to cut our ties. I'm going with it, Chief. She'd get suspicious if I didn't.'

Our plan was working, we were getting closer to Jim since his voice had gained in volume as we headed toward the middle of the search area.

That is, until we turned a corner and were forced to stop for a roadblock. Captain Banks tried to back up, but men appeared at our doors, badges and weapons out.

It was the IBI. They spoke respectfully but ordered us out of the vehicle. We complied, Henri cursing under his breath and Captain Banks telling them that they were interfering with an ongoing investigation. He insisted on skimming their codes and to our dismay they were legitimate officers of the Interplanetary Bureau of Investigation. The Feds. The Feds were a pain in the ass, according to Jim, because if they claimed jurisdiction on a case, MIC had to turn it over. Sometimes the IBI would work with him, but mostly at that point it was hands off.

A man spoke up from behind us.

“This is now an IBI case, Captain. Call your superior if you like, confirm the orders. But we're taking the guide, and we'll need your slaves. Johnson, search the vehicle. Mendez, search them.”

Captain Banks was already comming his boss and, from the short and pithy conversation I overheard, Banks was being ordered to pull out of the investigation.

And me? I was supposed to go with these guys now? I turned slowly around not wanting to give them any excuse to stun me and met the head IBI man's eyes.

“Have you located Detective Jim Ellison?” I asked him.

“We've got a pretty good idea of where he is, and when we extract him we want you with us in case he needs his guide.” There was a hint of a smirk in his voice, but nothing showed in his face. I didn't like this at all, and I didn't want to leave Captain Banks behind.

“Who are you?” I studied his features, chiseled cheeks, thinning blond hair, and he was about Jim's height. Fit. Dangerous.

“Supervisory Special Agent Cameron. Captain Banks, just to satisfy protocol, use the skimmer.”

Captain Banks did, and he was who he said he was. Cameron made a gesture and two men escorted me to his vehicle, pushing me into the back seat.

When Captain Banks protested against him and Henri being searched, he was told again that this was a classified operation. “You'll both be reimbursed for your slaves.” One of Cameron's hench men searched the vehicle we'd been driving, even checking the compartment where the extra solar batteries were kept.

Cameron got into the vehicle I'd been shoved into, another agent getting in to drive, and we sped forwards. ,

I turned in my seat and saw that Henri and Captain Banks were still being detained, and Henri was being patted down.

We went around another corner and I told Jim mentally what was happening, and that I didn't think we were traveling towards him anymore.

I really didn't like this. The feds taking over an investigation sounded typical enough, and maybe they'd gotten wind of Samuel Holland's defection, perdition's chimes, maybe Holland had sent them the documents, too, or escaped from being held and contacted them. But why did they take Henri's and Simon's slaves unless they wanted to keep a lid on information leaking out?

'I don't like this at all either, Chief. I'm going to attempt something. I'll probably mess it up, but I'm going to try and send you an image of Oliver. Your description sounds enough like him that I wonder... Give me a couple of seconds, it's been a long time since I saw him.'

We weren't heading towards the warehouse area anymore. The stone in my stomach gained ten more pounds, because every instinct I had was telling me I was in trouble.

My head almost exploded with pain, and a picture of a man's face seared my brain. With difficulty, I glanced at the man in the front passenger seat.

With the exception of having a bit less hair, he was a match for Jim's image of Colonel Oliver.

xxx

I had to get out of this vehicle and get help. I made a choking noise, and clapped my hand over my mouth.

Oliver looked over his shoulder at me and frowned.

“M'gonna throw up!” I mumbled urgently around my palm.

He turned back around and ignored me.

Okay, so he needed proof. Fine, I'd be happy to provide it. My stomach was churning anyway from what Jim had done, and I turned and vomited on the seat next to me, neatly managing to avoid getting any puke on my own clothes.

“Holy higher powers, look what the little bastard did!” the driver shouted.

Oliver looked at me disdainfully and pushed a button to roll the window down.

I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and made more choking sounds.

“I'm not driving with him getting sick like that,” the driver informed Oliver, and pulled off the road. I tried to open the door and couldn't, and I made more pleading noises that translated meant I was heading for round two within seconds.

The driver yanked open my door and half pulled me out, pushing me towards a grassy area. Oliver opened his door and started walking towards me, and I threw up again -- making sure they could see I was emptying my stomach of whatever it was that Captain Banks had made me eat. Oliver stayed back from me, but he was watching me closely.

The driver was cursing me, and went around to the back of the vehicle, opened it, and bent over, and from his comments he was looking for something to make me clean out the vehicle.

Hands on my knees, panting, I looked surreptitiously at my surroundings. We weren't that far from The Wharf and I could maybe lose these two there. I knew that area pretty well.

The driver, Johnson, straightened up from pawing through the trunk of the vehicle and held up a bottle of water. I knew protector vehicles carried first aid and blankets and water, and I guessed IBI ones did, too. Johnson walked over, stopping well back from me, and told me to catch. He tossed me the water and I gratefully opened it and swished out my mouth, spitting onto the grass.

That was actually a nice thing for a traitorous rat to have done, and it made me wonder if Johnson was using a false identity or if he was a real IBI agent, who was unwittingly doing the bidding of corrupt officials.

I drank the rest of the water, then made more choking sounds so they'd think I was going to get sick again. I picked my route and then, as Johnson piled some rags and a bottle of something by the opened vehicle door, I pointed at Oliver and started yelling that he wasn't IBI, that he was Oliver from the NRIA and that he was planning on killing me and Ellison.

It confused Johnson and as he and Oliver headed towards me he caught at Oliver's arm, and I took to my feet and ran, cutting across the grass and heading towards a group of buildings.

I can run really fast, and I flew, skidding around corners, and took a short cut through one building, and then another, and another until I was at The Wharf.

I tried to stop panting and look like the rest of the tourists and locals out for a nice evening's stroll through the shopping areas, restaurants, and small parks. Some people were wandering down to the far end where the seaside amphitheater was located, so maybe there was a show or speaker scheduled for tonight. Losing myself in a crowd sounded like a great idea, and once I'd regrouped, then I'd use our telepathy homing signal and I'd find Jim.

I'd told Jim what I planned on doing as I strolled down the street, and he told me that he and the woman were still working on freeing themselves. Jim was letting that little scenario play out.

He tried to make me feel better, said that MIC would be working still to find the two of us. I had to let Captain Banks know about Oliver, but surely his comm calls were being monitored. If I used a public comm, my location would be pinpointed within seconds if they were monitoring his comm. I had to reach him without giving away my position. And sooner than later, Oliver would think to check my tracker. I probably had only minutes before I would be surrounded by IBI or NRIA agents.

I couldn't believe I'd shaken Oliver and Johnson off so easily, but there was no sign of them. Instead of making me feel victorious, that worried me.

At the far end of The Wharf there were people streaming in from a parking area on a nearby street. I joined them, hiding amongst the crowd that had gathered at the seaside amphitheater and saw posters of the rally that would start in about thirty minutes.

I was surprised to see that I knew the woman who would be speaking. She was a well known advocate for those whose own voices were stifled by the government. I had met her through my mother, and for the longest time I'd had a huge crush on her.

Aside from one kiss, which I now suspected she'd given to make the sting of turning me down more palatable, we'd kept our friendship platonic.

I touched the gold bracelet on my arm, and felt hope rise up within me.

xxx

Genevieve Benet was very busy preparing her speech, her assistant told me when I asked to see her, but she would talk to people afterwards.

I shook my head. I didn't know how much time I had left before I was caught.

I slipped the bracelet off my wrist and pressed it into his hand. “Tell her this is from Blair, and that my mother, Naomi Sandburg, would want her to have this. Tell her the crystals are very powerful, and that I trust her to know what to do with them.”

“I'd heard that Naomi Sandburg had a bastard son...” He grasped my hand, glanced at my code. “I'll give it to her and tell her you want to see her after the rally.”

“I can't stay, and on my ancestor's honor, tell no one but her that I was here. Please.”

His eyes sharpened and he nodded, stepped back and shut the door.

I merged back into the crowd, my mind tumbling with schemes to contact Captain Banks, to evade Oliver, to find Jim.

I had to change my appearance, and how could I safely comm Captain Banks? And my tracker -- if 'Cameron' contacted my PO and wanted my coordinates, of course he'd be given them.

Jim's mental voice commanded my attention.

'Blair, take a deep breath. You wondered why Oliver didn't chase you? He's here. He's paid off the three goons... Now he's on his comm... Okay, he's going to be meeting with some of his more trusted pals who are out there on the perimeter right now, manning roadblocks. He's sending other guys after you, but he's not worried you're going to get away. He thinks he can pick you up easily because of your tracker. Ah, wait... When you ditched him he was taking you to some quack who was going to cut the tracker out of your leg. He's arranging to meet this doctor at a new location.'

I walked on autopilot, thinking furiously about who might be able to help me, and I understood now why animals would gnaw their legs off to escape a trap. That damn tracker would lead Oliver's men right to me.

I kept heading for the edge of the crowd and slipped out into an alley. There was one person I knew that might help me. Maybe. He was paranoid, and he was a genius, but he also had a good heart and he'd helped a number of people over the years. I headed for one of his message drop-sites since no one was ever allowed into his home. Well, except for cats. The last time we'd talked, something like thirteen of them had moved in with him.

Truthfully, I was surprised to still be free. It couldn't last, though. Me, against all the resources Oliver could utilize? This was a fluke, not being grabbed yet, but I'd take advantage of it just the same.

I passed a man with a push-pull cart and asked him if he would trade shirts. He agreed after feeling my red scrub shirt between his fingers, and I pulled it off and handed it to him. He gave me back a green and black checkered long sleeved fuzzy shirt. It was Jim's size, and I buttoned it up and rolled up the sleeves. He had hats, too, and I swapped a leather woven bracelet for a cap with the logo of the Cascade Jaguars on it. I tucked my hair up under it and adjusted the bill. Maybe my new look would buy me a little time when the searchers came for me.

The Cat-man - he wouldn't tell people his real name - had peppered Cascade with his own private comm system. I knew where some of them were, and had used them to ask for help when I wanted to get a message to my mother, since she never came to Cascade anymore.

It seemed like ages before I reached a message drop. It was in a protected alcove off an alley; I stood exactly on the right space, and a camera's light glowed orange. I waited, listening for the sound of my pursuers, and then I heard his voice from a hidden speaker.

“Blair. You are in dire straits, my friend. The protector scanners are buzzing. They say you murdered an IBI agent, and that the NRIA have claimed custody of you.”

I felt sick. Johnson must have actually been a real IBI agent, and I had gotten him killed when I'd yelled to him that Cameron was really Oliver, and NRIA.

“I didn't pull a trigger, but I put that agent in harm's way. Gods, I'm sorry he died. Listen, there's a covert group in the NRIA run by a man named Oliver that's going to kill every soul on Denair. They've taken Jim, my sentinel, and I need to get him help. They're coming for me, too, using my tracker. Short of cutting off my leg, is there anything that can stop the signal?”

“Can't stop the signal, but let's turn the problem around so the signal can't be seen. You must be on probation to have a tracker imbedded. I can give you, oh... thirty minutes or so before they kill the virus I'm sending to Community Service right now.”

He was the best hacker I knew. I owed him, and he laughed when I told him I was sending his cats fresh seafood. Then he tried to relay a message to Captain Banks for me.

It was blocked, and so was all of the protector numbers for the station.

Cat-man whistled. “These guys mean business if they're shutting down the entire station. I'll see what I can do about restoring their comm service. Any other ideas? Anybody else you want to comm?”

Sometimes, my mother would say, you have to take a leap of faith. I asked him to patch me through to Joel Taggart's private comm.

xxx

Now that I wasn't a blip on a screen, I headed for Jim in a fairly zig-zag pattern. Men were probably still out looking for me, and I was keeping an eye out for them. Jim's voice in my head was getting steadily louder, and I knew I was getting closer. He was back in restraints, the fake escape ending with Oliver pointing a shooter and 'making' the woman put lockers on him this time. He told me that he'd palmed an abandoned nail when he'd been made to get spread eagled on the floor and that he thought he would be able to use it to open the lockers.

It had all been as predictable as a play written by twelve year olds.

Oliver demanded that Jim tell him what Samuel had relayed to him.

Jim refused, and got slapped around for a while. He said it wasn't much, but I'd felt the echo of his pain through our bond.

Then the woman was dragged out of sight and 'punished' for Jim's refusal to talk. She was screaming like her fingernails were being pulled out, but her heart beat was slow and steady. Jim hadn't let on he knew she was a ringer. Jim still refused to talk, and when he was left alone he kept trying to free himself with the nail. I asked Jim why Oliver was bothering with all the melodrama, instead of giving Jim a truth test, but Jim told me that Orion's Hunters were conditioned to go catatonic and unresponsive if truth test drugs were given to them.

Jim said that Oliver hadn't realized the white noise silencers had never been activated. Morons, idiots, and lack-brains were only some of the words he applied to Oliver and his men. Jim was grading him on this operation and Oliver was barely passing.

Jim thought that while Oliver did want to know what Samuel had passed along, so any other leaks could be dried up, that his main objective had switched to coercing Jim and me into working for him.

'He's using a sweet-root and stick approach, Chief. Threatening to hurt you if I don't cooperate is the stick, offering us credits and a decadent way of living is the sweet-root. I think this is more of an ego thing than anything else. I was never insubordinate to him when he was my CO, but I always thought he was a real piece of shit. I'd always rebuffed any overtures of friendship from him, but politely. Now, he thinks he has power over me, and he's got a swelled dick over that. I'm being literal here, Chief. I can smell his arousal and I don't think it's because he wants to physically fuck me. He's getting off on the power dynamics.'

I thought to myself that Jim was probably deluding himself if he thought that his opinion of Oliver hadn't been noticed by the man during his Orion's Hunters' days. This must be sweet for Oliver, to have Jim at his mercy.

I warned Jim that Cat-man was going to cut off the power in the area where we thought Jim was being held, in order to neutralize any surveillance equipment. It would be fairly widespread, so maybe Oliver would think it was just a regular sort of power outage.

Jim told me to wait for backup, but I told him that wasn't happening. Hopefully we'd hear the welcome sound of sirens soon, but I wasn't waiting. Jim needed me now, there were too many chances of things going more wrong if I waited.

Thanks to my PO, Captain Banks would be learning who Cameron really was - Taggart had gone to find him at the station since communications were still down.

Taggart had let me talk when I contacted him. I had been prepared to beg, to plead with him to believe me and to talk to Captain Banks and let him know that Cameron was an alias for Oliver, but my leap of faith was justified. He told me that he'd known something was wrong when the IBI took over the case and snatched me, and when the request came down for my tracker records to be sent to them, he stalled them with paperwork.

He'd given me the extra time to dodge Oliver's men. I owed him.

I'd finally reached the derelict warehouse that Jim was being held in, the pavement around it broken up, and most of the building's windows were boarded over. I looked around for anything I could use as weapons, and put a couple of fist sized chunks of pavement into my pockets. I warned Jim I was coming, and snuck around to the back of the building. Jim had gotten loose from the lockers, but was making it look like they were still restraining him. Unfortunately, the door to the room he was in was also locked. I'd have to find a key for it.

Jim wished me luck and then to cover for my trying to break in, he started yelling at Oliver.

The fourth intact window I examined had a broken latch and I forced it open, then quietly climbed through. I could see well enough because of the late afternoon light filtering through the filthy windows, but I was glad that emergency lighting had been activated since the basement would be dark.

I looked for stairs downwards where Jim was being held, guided by the sounds of voices and fists hitting flesh. I crept cautiously down the wide stairs clenching my fists every time Oliver punched Jim. It killed me not to rush in and stop him from hurting Jim, but instead I hid behind some abandoned machinery. I took out my chunks, and placed them were I could reach them easily.

I relayed to Jim exactly what I was doing and he told me to be careful as he let himself act cowed. Oliver crowed a bit over Jim's submission, then left the room, locking Jim in again.

I held my breath, rock in hand, as Oliver walked past my hiding place, and then I drew back my arm and let him have it. Hard.

It hit him square on the back of the head.

He stumbled, and turned, arm up and I threw the next one and it got him on the side of his temple. 'Take that, you son-of-a-space-whore,' I mentally screamed at him. Jim heard it too, and urged me again to be careful, and not to underestimate Oliver; he was an expert in martial arts.

He looked dazed, and the next rock hit him square on the forehead, and he fell to his knees.

I left my hiding place and threw another broken pavement piece at him at a closer range, and he slumped over.

I kept a chunk in my hand as I approached him. He remained in the same position, and I kicked him. He didn't respond. I had nothing to tie him up with, but he was wearing a belt. I secured him, hands behind his back, wrapping the belt around his wrists. I took his shooter and fished keys out of his pocket.

Jim told me, mind to mind, that Tanya was still in the other room, but she was making impatient sounds and might come out at any time. I dropped the keys into my pocket and held the shooter the way I'd been taught in the Academy classes I'd attended and went to free Jim.

xxx

The room Jim was held in had a small window in the door, and the glass was gone. Jim was waiting at the door, and I tried key after key till everyone of them had been rejected.

Oliver must have the key somewhere else on his person. I reached my hand in through the window and touched Jim's face, and I saw the theta disruptor clamped around his neck. I felt a surge of hate for Oliver for capturing Jim and collaring him like that, hurting him. Jim tried to soothe me, still using our telepathy in case Tanya was listening. He wasn't successful. I left and went back out to where I'd left Oliver. He was still collapsed on the floor, and I searched carefully through his pockets again.

It wasn't there, but I noticed a glint of silver around his neck and pulled free a chain, and there dangled the key to Jim's prison.

I claimed the key from Oliver and went as fast as I could back to Jim, without running and making a lot of noise.

I was one room away from him, when he warned me, telepathically, that Tanya had left the room she'd been waiting in and was heading straight for Oliver's location.

Should I try and capture her before she realized what had happened to Oliver? Or release Jim first?

I kept moving towards Jim. There'd be two of us free then and Jim was a better shot than me, since he had the sentinel advantage.

I had another chunk of pavement in my pocket anyway.

This time the key worked, to my great relief, and Jim was out the door and squeezing my shoulder, promising me silently a better greeting when this situation was under control.

He shook his head and told me, still mind to mind, that Tanya had found Oliver and released him. He had regained consciousness and Tanya was helping him up.

I asked Jim if we should try and fight them or run for help.

'He's got men on the perimeter that he can comm for assistance with a manhunt. I think we need to take him and Tanya out before they get reinforcements. Follow me, Chief.'

I handed him the shooter and he checked it and released the safety. Then we started a deadly game of cat and slithers.

xxx

Jim went around a different way than I had used, and through another set of dim hallways, paint peeling off the walls and mold growing everywhere. He silently told me that he'd spent most of his awake time tracking his captors' movements and building a mental map of the building. We were going to come at them from an unexpected way, take them by surprise.

Having a sentinel around is a very handy thing. Jim knew every plan they whispered, and that Oliver had possession of Tanya's shooter, while she went to their temporary arsenal to get more shooters, breathing masks and gas canisters.

We were valuable assets, Oliver had informed her, and he said he didn't really want to kill us, he wanted us alive so we could be his pawns. The canisters would release a knockout drug and we'd wake up prisoners, secured on a bird and far away from New Rainier.

Oliver had also told Tanya he was keeping his men mixed in with actual IBI agents at every roadblock to turn back anyone else searching for us.

Jim said to me, mind to mind, 'Sweet falling stars, he can make us disappear into NRIA custody and it'll be like we fell into a black hole. The NRIA can supersede the IBI, protectors, and probation. He bragged to me that he'd tracked down all the documents, even the ones secured at the bank and the pet cemetery. Poor Samuel. I suspect that Oliver had him killed after he gave up the information.'

Jim tracked Tanya's progress and jumped her when she walked through a hallway, holding a shooter to her head. He'd brought the lockers with him and we secured her to a pipe in a room off the hallway. Jim gagged her with his hand until I ripped the sleeve loose from my traded shirt and he used that to keep her quiet.

Jim and I had a brief, fierce argument silently over me providing the distraction so he could get the drop on Oliver, but he agreed in the end. Jim never liked it if he thought I was putting myself in danger, but it was the best plan we had.

We separated and when he was in position to burst in on Oliver, he told me to go ahead.

I walked down the hall, purposefully loud enough for him to assume I was Tanya. I opened the door, road chunk in hand to chuck at him and then I would duck the hell out of the way when Jim rushed in from the other door to clobber him.

It was a great plan. Too bad that wasn't how things went. Instead, Oliver was waiting beside the door and when I opened it to chuck my rock at him, he grabbed me, pulling me inside and against him, forcing me to stand on my tip-toes, and put the shooter to my head.

Jim erupted into the room, practically snarling, but Oliver just laid out his terms, all the time holding me as a shield, his arm keeping me in a choke-hold with that damn shooter ready to blow a hole in my brain.

“Ellison, nice try, but if you don't cooperate I'll just cut my losses and shoot your sweet little guide. You want that to happen? No? You'd miss fucking him, wouldn't you? So put the shooter down and get spread-eagled flat on the floor... I'll be calling in a bird and more men, after you show me you're not going to be a hero.”

'Jim, shoot him. I'll lift up my feet and my weight will throw him off and you shoot him.'

'It's too risky, Chief. We'll wait, try again later. His shooter might go off if you startle him. Just... do what he says.'

I felt calm, collected. Calling me 'sweet little guide' indicated that he had evaluated me and discarded me as a real threat to him. I could use that, play it up.

Over Jim's mental protests to not try anything, I began to beg Oliver to not hurt me, or choke me, and I started sobbing.

It distracted him a little and in warning he held me tighter, hissing at me to shut up. Both of my hands were gripping the arm pressing into my neck, and I told Jim to get ready. I tightened my hold on Oliver's arm and made my move. I let him totally take my weight by lifting my feet and as he lurched and bent down I used my hand and arm to push the shooter away from my head.

It all happened so fast, the noise of the shooters firing, the impact of the bullet making Oliver recoil from me; I tried to get the shooter out of his hand, but couldn't, and we were doing this crazy dance, struggling for control of the weapon. Jim shouted at me to drop and I did. Freed from my grip, Oliver turned a little and aimed his shooter at Jim, but Jim's reflexes were faster. He shot Oliver again, the noise deafening me for a second time.

Oliver collapsed, the shooter clattering to the ground. Jim advanced on the man shaking on the ground, and kicked the shooter away from him and told me to stay back.

Oliver was bleeding from his chest and from his neck, making horrible gurgling sounds.

Jim knelt beside him and applied pressure to the neck wound. I staggered over, too, and placed my hands over the chest wound and pressed down.

“Blair, are you okay?” Jim asked without looking at me, all of his attention on the dying man.

“I'm fine. We need to comm for medical help and see if we can get through to Captain Banks.”

“Did you find a comm when you checked his pockets?”

“No.”

“Okay, go check the other rooms, and I'll try to keep this son-of-a-space-whore alive. Take my shooter, be careful. Let me know if you hear or see anything.”

I took his shooter out of the back of his belt, where he'd placed it, and slowly made my way to the next room, holding it like I really was a protector, too. Nothing there. I searched two more rooms before I found what I needed, and I made the calls to Emergency Care and to Captain Banks. Cat-man had come through, or else the station's techs had fixed the problem. I relayed to Jim that help was on its way. Captain Banks told me not to worry about the roadblocks. Thanks to the information Joel Taggart had given him, he'd gotten Cameron exposed as an alias of Oliver's and the IBI head man had told his men to stand down. Most of the NRIA turncoat agents posing as IBI had gotten away, though, but two of them had been placed under arrest by suspicious IBI agents.

I tried to hurry back to Jim, but it seemed to take a long time. Picking up Oliver's gun with the tail of my shirt, I carried it over to Jim, and placed it next to him while he was doing chest compressions. I dropped down on the other side of Oliver's body and saw that he had stopped breathing.

There was blood on his body and on Jim's hands and the floor and I looked at my own hands and they were red. Everything seemed so red, and my side was hurting, it was burning and I needed water to put out the flames and Oliver wasn't breathing and Jim and I had killed him and I wasn't sorry and that was bad for my karma, but not Jim's because Jim had to shoot. I didn't give him a choice; he had to act when I made the diversion. I couldn't be sorry about it. Oliver might have changed his mind about having his own pet sentinel and guide and killed Jim and if he made Jim hurt innocent people Jim would die inside because I knew him. Soul bonds. You can't hide away when you're entwined in a soul bond with someone else. And my side hurt so bad, the burning wasn't stopping.

“Blair, you said you were fine! You're bleeding! Let me see, you, you...”

He stopped the chest compressions and pulled up my poor one sleeved shirt and cursed.

He stepped over Oliver's body, and tugged me away from him. He looked again at where my skin was burning and made me lie down on my side, and pushed his hands against my shirt, against the burn.

“Jim, it hurts.”

He kept his hands where they were, but he dropped a kiss on my temple.

“Just hang in there, Blair.”

“Cold.”

He swore again and ripped off his shirt, balled it up and placed it under my feet, raising my legs.

“Blair, you're going into shock. Damn this cold floor, it's leeching away your body heat.”

'Jim, I'm tired.'

“Stay with me, Blair. I hear sirens, help will be here soon. Stay with me, buddy.”

'Tired.'

I closed my eyes and tried to do what Jim said. But before I failed I thought heard the sirens, too.

xxx

Epilog

The doctor told me he was keeping me in the hospital overnight when I woke up after sleeping for several hours. I didn't mind. After Jim had been treated for his injuries and the theta disruptor removed, he'd made himself at home in my room.

I wasn't seriously hurt. The first bullet Jim had shot had entered Oliver's heart after creasing my side, leaving a long gash across my ribs. Luckily, the bullet hadn't broken any ribs or penetrated my abdomen. I had gone into shock, though, and probably not keeping any food in my system that day hadn't helped, nor draining my energy levels down so far from the cloud walking I'd done to help find Jim.

Captain Banks had protectors guarding my hospital room, but he told us it was just a precaution. He said that Oliver's illicit empire was tumbling down fast, and hard questions were being directed at certain members of the Celestial Congress who'd aligned themselves with his interests.

Captain Banks gave us a copy of the holo-cast he and Jim had watched while I slept. He said it made it impossible for Oliver's plans for Denair to happen now, plus it voiced accusations of past crimes Oliver's secret group had committed. He told me not to worry about my probation violations: he was going to have a long talk with Officer Taggart.

I worried anyway, but only Jim could tell.

I dozed off and on, and Jim and Captain Banks talked about the case. The mystery of how Oliver had pulled off his alias as Cameron had been solved when his body was examined during his autopsy. Over his real code artificial skin had been attached with the other code imbedded in it, both blocking his real code from being read and allowing the deception. NRIA technology at work.

Jim had given his statement, and I would give mine tomorrow. At least I wasn't being brought up on charges of killing Special Agent Johnson. Didn't stop me from feeling responsible, though. I should have tried to tell him privately about Oliver, not shouted it out.

Jim kept telling me that he wouldn't have believed me, and it wasn't my fault that Oliver had killed him. It was starting to seem like a lot of things weren't legally my fault, but morally, I had to take responsibility. Like the people who'd been hurt because of Yana. I wanted to make what amends I could for being such a fool about trusting Iris. I thought again about the earlier idea I'd had at Captain Banks' house, and I would see if I could donate the proceedings of any writing or research I did to a fund to help the Yana victims, like Daryl Banks' friend.

The NRIA agents had looked through Henri's slave and discarded it, as there wasn't anything incriminating on it. Simon's slave was absolutely destroyed, but the Chief of Protectors was authorizing a new one for him. The messages that we had on delayed sending had also been pulled and destroyed. None of us had even known that was possible. More NRIA technology at work.

Drifting, I heard Captain Banks ask about joining him next week for a Jags game. I thought that would be fun for Jim, and I sent him a sleepy mental message that he should go and have some fun.

'Blair, Qhosi, wake up a little. Simon wasn't asking just me, he was asking you and me.'

I sat up in bed and scrubbed my face with my hands. I must have misunderstood Jim. Captain Banks wouldn't want to spend any social time with me, a convict bastard. I understood that, and I told Jim again that he should go with his friend.

Only I realized I'd said all of that out loud, instead of silently, when Captain Banks frowned at me.

“No, I wasn't asking only Jim. I was asking you to come, too. And when we're not at the station or on duty, call me Simon. The game's next Thursday, and I'll expect you at my house at five for my galaxy famous nachos and beer, and then we'll go to the game in my vehicle. Only someone with a death wish would ride with Jim voluntarily.”

Jim protested, but Captain Banks had the data to back up his claim. I hadn't known Jim had totaled that many vehicles while he'd worked for Vice, and my amazement leaked through our bond, causing Jim to splutter for a little bit about how none of the wrecks had been his fault. Captain Banks snorted, and left, after laying a heavy hand on my head and telling me I had to learn to take better care of myself.

I felt strange, my emotions a haphazard tumble, gratitude, happiness and wariness surfacing and sinking as I thought about Captain Banks... Simon, offering me friendship. Jim squeezed my hand and passed along that Simon had told him he'd been sitting on the fence about me for months now, and since he couldn't reconcile my actions with what I'd been accused of doing, he'd decided that I must be innocent after all of running Yana.

He'd have higher expectations of me now, and I resolved not to let him down.

After he left, we watched the holo of Genevieve Benet's rally. As always, she gave an inspiring speech, asking others to not ignore injustices both nearby and far away. She spoke of the plight of native peoples whose customs and way of life were often crushed when their worlds joined New Rainier's Hundred Worlds. I thought of Quyllur and Incacha, and silently asked Jim if we could still go home for a while, unless my PO refused permission. He might as a punishment for my violations.

Jim was sitting in a chair next to my bed and he took my hand and squeezed it. “We'll go. And stop worrying. Any rules you broke can be explained.”

I worried anyway.

Genevieve, diminutive but with a powerful prescence, her beautiful brown eyes intense with the message she was spreading, was talking now about bastards. How a society should be judged by how it treats its people and the long history of abuse the bastard population had endured, and was still enduring.

Then she shifted the focus of her speech, but bridged it by talking about one brave bastard man, who risked his very life to bring her the information she was going to share with them this day. She challenged the crowd to join with her in spreading the word of the misuse of the NRIA, the planned destruction of an innocent people, the corruption of government officials who allowed an illicit and covert group to make a mockery of what the Celestial Compact should stand for.

I realized that I was the man she had mentioned and I felt a blush staining my cheeks. She'd found the dots, and I felt very relieved and very worried at the same time.

'Jim? Is she in danger now?'

'No. Watch what she does, Chief. It's amazing.'

She asked who listening would be willing to accept these documents and pass them on to other willing souls.

“Evil cannot live in the light, it only flourishes in the dark, and, my friends, we can shine a light today and make the government accountable for this man Oliver and his backers. If you agree, open your slave or comm to receive a broadcast message, and I will send you these dots of shame. Then ask amongst your friends, your government officials, which of them will pass along this proof of evil. When the truth is spread to the Hundred Worlds, then the people of Denair shall not be sacrificed for the benefit of Oliver and his greedy associates. Join me, hold up your slaves and comms, and we shall spread the light.”

My tears overflowed as I saw almost everyone in the crowd holding up their arms.

Jim turned off the holo and moved so he was sitting next to me on the bed and put his arms around me.

“It went galaxy-viral, Blair. Heads are going to roll and it's all due to you and your quick thinking. Your mother will be so proud of you when she knows. I'm proud of you.”

I got myself under control and asked Jim about Samuel.

“His body was found in a pod, aimed at a star's heart. The autopsy shows that they tortured him to death.”

It was my turn to squeeze Jim's hand. “He was very brave, Jim, and I'm proud to know that he was your friend. He lost his way for a while, but in the end he did the right thing.”

Jim nodded and dimmed the lights, then he pushed me back down on the bed and half covered me with his body.

“Rest, Blair. I can feel how tired you still are, and I just want to hold you, know that you're safe.”

“You're going to yell at me for not letting Oliver take us off planet, aren't you?”

“I'm not going to yell, but we are going to discuss it. I nearly had a heart attack over what you pulled. But we're not going to talk about it tonight. Go to sleep, Qhosi.”

“My sentinel's wishes are my desires, Enqueri.”

Jim snorted and shifted to telepathy.

'You're such a wise-child. And tomorrow, I want to know all about this guy that sent you that enormous bouquet of wild flowers on the window sill. His card said he would be pleased to renew your acquaintance, and make mine, after we were recovered. So who in perdition is Halford Loomis the Ninth, anyway?'

'He might be a friend, he's definitely a pain in the ass, but I'll tell you what he's not.'

'Okay, what isn't he?'

'He's not my sentinel and he's not my lover. Satisfied?'

And then I pulled Jim closer, and kissed him until I sensed that he had let go of the mildly jealous feelings that had been stirring in his soul.

My last sleepy thoughts, and Jim's equally sleepy agreement, was that I couldn't wait for us to finally take that vacation on Quyllur.

The end.