Consorts of the Red King, page 15
The caller of shots for Van’s existence added another hand to the table and leaned far too near Van’s meal for comfort. Van held his plate close to his chest. Something wriggled on the trough the serving drone sat on the other side of the table.
Van fought nausea, watching a forkful of whatthehellever slip into his boss’s gaping maw. Commander wiped his mouth with a napkin far too small for his hand. “Well done, Van. I do regret the death of his father. Though I’ve never met him personally, he had a reputation as a shrewd negotiator. A good ruler. Would defend his people until the end. I don’t know much about the brother worth mentioning.” He nodded toward Van’s untouched plate. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Van shifted his gaze from the squirming mass to his own much more attractive repast. His stomach rumbled. Returning from stasis always left him hungry. He dug in.
The boss didn’t bother to stop talking while tens of little squirmy things lost their lives. “Do you think we could negotiate with the current king?”
Van let his fork clatter to his plate and swallowed a mouthful of some reasonably accurate synth meat. “The brother? He’s a politician, not a king, and a poor one from what I’ve seen. The Federation has a presence everywhere. The so-called king kisses their asses while they rob his people blind and send them down into the mines for those damned crystals.” A crusty roll distracted him from the conversation, while reminding him of Jorvik, scantily dressed and handing out bread in a dimly-lit dining hall.
Now if only Commander would leave him alone and let him eat and fantasize in peace. The king. The muthafucking king.
Damn if the boss didn’t bring Van back to his sad reality by refusing to shut up.
“How unfortunate they’re embedded. Which likely means war to get them out.” The commander keyed a drink order into the tabletop console and lifted his hands for the delivery door to open and present his green and red swirled drink. Van stuck to coffee. Old fashioned, yes, but coffee reminded him of home, where people clung tight to their Terran roots.
Some to the point of believing their DNA made them superior to other entities.
They’d died in the war they created, along with millions of others, destroying Earth and making Tayn and Van minorities in this sector, or rather, Van.
Since Tayn no longer qualified as truly human.
“I saw a pile of partially burned bodies outside of the palace grounds. I’m thinking you’ll find the old king there, and any else who opposed the new regime. Folks wouldn’t talk about what happened. From what I gather the new king thinks the prince is dead.” He’d keep quiet about only recently finding out Jorvik’s status himself.
“Prince Jorvik, or rather, King Jorvik, says you’re his consort, offers you protection.” Commander gave Van an expression implying a raised eyebrow.
Van washed down a bite of roll with a swig of coffee, and tore the rest of the bread into tiny pieces while talking. “I don’t have a fucking clue what he means. Hell, he was pretending to be a palace servant and trying to find a way off-world when I met him.”
“If his life was in danger, I can see why he’d hide.” Another mouthful of squirming wigglies disappeared into the commander’s gullet.
Van cringed. “But why in the palace where his uncle could find him?”
The boss let out a belch likely to set off turbulence alarms somewhere on the station. “If he intended to get off-world, then it made sense to be where there might be ship’s captains. He could also keep up with the happenings there, and if his uncle thought the rightful heir dead, then he wouldn’t be searching faces too closely.”
“Good point.” Still, it rankled knowing Jorvik pegged Van as an easy mark to hitch a ride. “While I appreciate the diplomatic immunity, you coulda got me out of any trouble I landed in.”
“Yes, I could have, but who’s in a better position to insure he sides with the Coalition? We’ve been trying to reach trade agreements for years, but the former king didn’t trust outsiders. I want you to do whatever you have to. Get his agreement.”
Van jerked back. What the fuck? “You’re wanting me to whore myself out?”
Commander waved a fork in the air, the small plexiplastic implement dwarfed by his enormous hand. “You’ve done worse in the line of duty.”
Yes, very true. He’d done a whole lot uglier too.
The boss stopped the fork halfway to his mouth. One of the wiggly things escaped and splatted back onto the plate. “Have you already been in his bed?”
“Well, ummm…” Van studied his nearly empty coffee cup and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mistook him for a servant, being harassed by a guard. I got rid of the asshole for him. He’s… um… rather generous with his gratitude.” To say the least.
Commander chased down the escapee with his fork. “And you call yourself a mercenary when you can’t help wading into someone else’s trouble.”
Yeah. If he’d only minded his own business. “Well, you now owe me for rescuing a member of the royal family.”
“The credits have already been transferred to your account. If we wind up with a treaty and trade agreement, you’ll get double.”
Van mentally performed the necessary math and let out a low whistle.
“Now, let’s talk about your partner.”
Van fought to keep from choking on his mouthful of synthetic potatoes. Surely the boss couldn’t have found out about Tayn’s missing body. “What about him?”
“I’m counting on you to bring him up to speed, make sure he’s at King Jorvik’s disposal. If the king says to kiss his boots, I expect you both to pucker.”
“If he wants more?” Images of “more” slithered through a mind already filled to near-capacity with pornographic images. Oh, to strip the finery off Jorvik’s body, bend him over…
He’d love to share the man with Tayn. The two of them, Jorvik in the middle… Van shook his head to clear thoughts best saved for later.
“Then bend over and grab the lube.” Commander leaned forward, putting Van nose to prodigious-digit-that-might-be-a-nose with his alien boss. “If we get his support, go through the proper courts to charge his uncle with murder and treason, we can avoid a war. We can’t afford another war with the Federation.”
Van sipped the last dregs of his coffee. What could he say? “I’m no politician. Shouldn’t you get someone better equipped to play the game?”
“For whatever reason, he trusts you. Or at least plans to keep you close. Use it to your—our—advantage.”
“If I say no?” Van wouldn’t, but he hadn’t built a reputation, and a nice account of credits, by playing nice.
Commander’s face gave away nothing of his true thoughts. “Then the diplomatic immunity will likely be denied and you’ll face whatever charges you have against you.”
Fuck. Why couldn’t he answer to an easily-read humanoid? “You’re leaving me to deal with this? If I’ve done anything worthy of arrest, chances are you gave the orders.”
“You’re also well aware who I report to. They don’t take no for an answer.” Commander gave a rueful smile. “Which is why I never say no. You shouldn’t either.”
“Has anyone ever told them no?”
“No one still living.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Your Highness, the man is a mercenary, a soldier, not suitable for a king. Shouldn’t you choose a mate from your home world?” The station governor rapidly wore out Jorvik’s patience. They all looked alike, the off-worlders, with their multicolored eyes, sweaty bodies, and arrogance.
Well, except for Van, and possibly Tayn, if he’d not misrepresented his appearance entirely. Swaggering, yes, but Van bore his confidence in his stance, how he moved. No need to boast when anyone with eyes couldn’t help notice how the spacer owned his surroundings.
As he’d owned Jorvik’s body. Jorvik fought a shiver, memories of their night together dancing prickles up his spine. He’d been scared, desperate. For a brief time, Van took him out of himself, lost him in the moment, made him forget the horror of his circumstances. How much better would sex be when they could take their leisure, neither worried about guards breaking their door down?
Since the moment Jorvik witnessed the carnage in his quarters, he might fear guards for the rest of his life. Even the off-worlder guards hovering in the shadows unnerved him. Of course, he wasn’t his father’s son without reason. He’d never let an ounce of unease show.
“How many times have you visited Akiak?” Jorvik practiced the honeyed-silk timbre his father’s advisers drilled into him.
The governor’s mouth opened and closed a few times, the pasty skin of his face shading deep purple. How did these beings hope to win any talks when they put every emotion clearly on display? Jorvik searched his memories. Governors were minor dignitaries, figureheads with no real power of their own. Unfortunately, also the highest-ranking Coalition government member at his current disposal.
What a waste to talk to this man at all, when he’d only have to repeat the whole story later to someone who actually mattered.
“Why, none, Your Highness. Your world has only recently come to the attention of the Coaltion.”
“How then, do you speak of Akiak as though you know our customs?”
The man shut up, but Jorvik held no hope in the situation lasting.
If he’d learned one thing about these beings, they loved the sound of their own voices, and believed raising the pitch earned them advantage.
“But, Sir…”
The futile conversation ended now. Jorvik owed this man no explanation, but wasn’t too sure of the others coming and going from the room, most of whom hadn’t been introduced. “Akiak is at war. Who more suitable than a soldier to stand by my side?”
“He’s… he’s for sale to the highest bidder.”
“Then I’ll have to be the highest bidder, won’t I?” Jorvik fought a smirk. “What of your own mate? Did you choose one to aid your position, bring you further power, or one to bring pleasure to your body?”
He’d heard all about these space station officials, how they purchased young, beautiful wives from poor planets to bolster their egos. No Akiakian worth the title chose a mate in such a fashion.
Jorvik certainly wouldn’t. Finally, finally, a moment of quiet. When the man once again opened his mouth to speak, Jorvik silenced him with an upraised hand. “Are you in a position to provide troops, intelligence, and ships to help me in my quest to free my home world?”
“Well, no… but…”
Enough. Jorvik removed his eye shield and pinned the official with a glare he’d learned nearly from birth. He never raised his voice, never scowled, never showed his anger outwardly, but his eyes… He’d learned to speak with his eyes, which he’d been told already made people unused to single-colored eyes leery. “Then who can?”
Van reentered the room, locking gazes with Jorvik and turning his eyes downward. Demure? Van? The corner of his lips twitched, then twitched again, and his shoulders gave a brief shudder. Laughing? Or trying really hard not to.
The multi-legged and multiple armed and eyed entity Van left with swept back into the room. “I can provide what you seek.” The member of some race unknown to Jorvik stood two heads taller than Van, with far more body parts than the average humanoid. Everyone else in the room shrinking back from him confirmed his power.
“Then it’s you I need to speak with,” Jorvik said, in the same bored tones he’d adopted upon leaving Van’s ship. “Not these men.” He tossed his head toward the minions, a gesture he’d learned from visitors to his world. He might not like them, might even hate them, but to get what he wanted he must study other races in the galaxy, learn from them, beat them at their own games.
Because beat them he would.
Jorvik sat with, not a Coalition official, but one who wielded government authority anyway. Similar existed on Akiak, whisperers who kept his father informed without giving away the influence granted by their leader.
They worked in darkness, keeping secrets close to their chest and dealing in information as surely as any other valuables.
Their hidden nature hadn’t saved them from the massacre. How Jorvik needed those spies now.
“I can get you troops, plead your case to the Coalition government to acknowledge your claim as Akiak’s legal ruler.” The Commander, as others referred to him, spoke as one who held the power in the room.
He held nothing. “It isn’t a claim.” Jorvik was king, and starting to become so much more. He’d risked himself and his planet’s future. Backing down condemned them all to sure death.
Never!
“You must know what you ask—”
“For my people to be permitted to live their lives free of Federation influence.” Only he knew how many lives, and what forms they took. “Don’t think I’m unaware of what the Coalition wants, or the advantage our natural resources provide. He who owns Akiak owns the universe.”
Years of studying human, and other entities’ natures, allowed Jorvik to witness the commander’s wince. “Your Highness, you must understand—”
“I do understand. I understand with unlimited access to the red crystals of our northern realms, the Federation can power colonies on worlds they’d never have considered before. Used as fuel, the crystals will allow ships to travel faster, farther.” He narrowed his eyes. “They can be used to create weapons, weapons capable of wiping the Coalition out of existence.”
The commander flinched openly. “Where did you learn these things?”
“I have recently spent time as a spy in my own home. Amazing the things you hear when you’re deemed below notice.” Jorvik didn’t hide the hatred in his words. “I know what they’ve planned, which outposts they’ll strike first, how long it will take them to implement their strategy.”
He paused to let his words sink in. “Believe me, we don’t have time to sit at this table bickering.”
One, two, three, four, the commander blinked one eye at a time. “What are your full demands?”
Jorvik smiled inwardly. “First, I need troops and political support to retake Akiak. Secondly, the Coalition will back my leadership.” He cut his eyes toward Van. “This man has been useful to me. Will be useful in the future, as will his ship. I want his continued cooperation.”
“I cannot make promises for Van,” the commander said.
Jorvik laughed without humor. “He works for you, correct?” He addressed his next comment to Van. “Continue to be valuable to my cause and you’ll be rewarded with anything you want.”
Van perked up from where he sat, pretending to drowse at the end of the table. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
A crease appeared between Van’s eyebrows. “What I want you can’t give.” He folded his arms on the table, laid his head on top, and closed his eyes again.
But not before Jorvik saw his interest.
Assured of Van’s cooperation despite his lack of a positive answer, Jorvik resumed his discussion with the commander. “After he’s served his purpose, I want full immunity for any past indiscretions for Van and his partner.”
The pause in Van’s fake snore showed his awareness. Yes, Jorvik held his attention.
“I cannot erase his record. You ask too much.” The commander tried to play hard, but he’d lose.
Jorvik folded his arms across his chest, employing his best blank face. “What the Coalition wants from me is far more than I ask of them. You know it, I know it. They cannot afford to lose to the Federation.”
The commander struggled to his five feet. “I will ensure your demands are met.”
“Good.”
“Now, allow me to escort you to your quarters. It’s not safe for a man of your rank to wander around a space station alone.”
Jorvik had no intention of going anywhere with this being, even with Van’s approval. “First, I need to retrieve my belongings from the ship.”
The commander gawked. “Surely not! We can send—”
“Ways are different on my world. I can fetch my own clothes.” And confer with Tayn, find out how far he could push before someone fought back.
“As you wish. I’ll still take you, ensure your safety.” The commander gestured toward the door.
Van opened a bleary eye and regarded Jorvik with a quizzical smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Only if you betray me.” Though the words slipped out without conscious thought, Jorvik meant every one.
Chapter Eighteen
Jorvik stepped onto the ship, turning his back on his unwanted hangers-on to get them to go away. Somewhere along the line the guards returned, as well as the governor, despite the commander’s repeated growls.
The walk, while not long, totally drained Jorvik’s reserves. He dared not eat while in negotiations. He’d preserve his culture’s decorum to the end, and demanded those dealing with him observe Akiak tradition too. He’d take the lead. They’d follow. “If I need you, I’ll call,” he said, as evenly as possible. He’d love to slam the airlock in their faces, but didn’t know how. The airlock slammed anyway.
“Welcome back, sweet cheeks.” The greeting came from several speakers at once. Jorvik couldn’t tell where the voice came from, then recalled the strange dream—it was a dream, right?
“Tayn.”
“I’d be crushed if you didn’t remember me,” the voice said, in a teasing lilt.
So much going on, so much to think about. Jorvik needed to talk to the man he’d declared to be his consort. “Where is Van?”
“What? I thought it’s me you loved!” The voice laughed. Ships laughed? Certainly, none Jorvik ever boarded before. Though he’d not been on many.
“We need to talk, to plan. Do you know where he is and when he’ll return?”
