Lucas rolled over in his warm, soft, wonderful bed and gave his pillow a healthy squeeze.  Now more than ever he coveted the luxury of sleep, since he was so rarely allowed to sleep himself awake.  A tickle at the end of his face made him twitch and snuffle, and when a snort of his nose did not make it go away he blindly reached a paw up to bat away the offending fluff.  What he hit with his hand was substantially larger than the wisp of pillow down he was expecting.

"Meh," Victus grunted, his neck muscles tensing at the contact.  

Lucas stiffened momentarily in surprise before remembering where he was and relaxing.  The events of the past few hours came rushing back and he immediately regretted disturbing their tranquility.  He expected Victus to pull away after being whacked in the face, and was surprised when the other man simply relaxed and snuggled - yes, snuggled! - back into his chest.  

As pleasant as he found their current situation, Lucas could not resist the urge to stir the pot a little. "Who are you and what have you done with Victus Entrades?" he murmured.

"Hush," Victus admonished, not expending even the small amount of energy necessary to open his eyes.  "We have three more minutes before the alarm goes off,” he mumbled, “and I don't want to waste it talking."

"Mmmm..." Lucas agreed, as he gently hugged the other man to his chest.  Had they been awake ten minutes earlier there would have been time for a quick morning romp. He thought that Victus might actually be amenable to something like that, but Lucas contenting himself with what they were already doing.  It might be chaste but it was still intimate and, for the moment at least, that was enough for him.

When the alarm on the Kenzine’s chron chimed a hundred and eighty-six seconds later, it awoke the old Victus.  Instantly awake, he rolled out of bed and was reaching for his wrist computer before his feet hit the ground.  "We have a full day," he advised, as his finger scrolled through the negin's daily schedule.  As usual, their calendar had changed in subtle but important ways while they slept.  

"We always have a full day," Lucas tried to grumble, but his heart really wasn't in it.  Sleeping with someone else curled up in his arms had been a tonic for his mood, and he felt positively bouncy.  "You first in the shower?"

"Yes," Victus said, padding silently to the bathroom without ever taking his eyes off his chron. "A new doctor's appointment has appeared on the negin's schedule, delaying lunch until fourteen and pushing dinner back to half past twenty."  He reached into the shower and turned on the spray, then adjusted the temperature to something cooler than the relaxing warmth where Lucas had left it the night before. He continued to read through the day's activities as the invigorating cold water cascaded through his fur. "Some of the negin's dinner guests will probably protest the last minute change in plans by arriving early," he said, raising his voice slightly and using one hand to soap himself as he read. "You will stay with them in the parlor until Mal makes his appearance.”

"Oh, joy," Lucas drawled, as he followed Victus into the bathroom. Babysitting a bunch of squabbling elites while they locked horns with each other in their petty game of thrones was hardly his idea of a good time. "I'll make sure nobody steals the silverware."

Victus realized that there was no way his right armpit was going to get clean if he didn't free his left hand. Reluctantly, he hooked his chron over the shower stall by its strap while he finished showering.

Thinking to continue the review on his own, Lucas pulled the computer from where it was hanging. The instant his skin touched the screen, the display winked out and was replaced with the word LOCKED in bold, red letters.  "Shit," he muttered to himself, staring at the chron in frustration. "You don't trust anyone, do you?" Lucas was familiar with security measures like this, but even the military, paranoid as they were, didn't bother with DNA encryption where there wasn’t a compelling reason for it.  Could anything stored inside Victus’s personal communicator possibly be sensitive enough to warrant such complex and trouble-prone, not to mention expensive, security measures?  

He glanced over at the shower stall, where Victus had turned off the water in exchange for the fur dryer’s hand wand. In anyone else’s possession an encrypted communicator would have seemed pretentious, but in the case of a Kenzine he thought it might be justified.

Victus emerged from the stall looking damp and windblown. "That is not accurate," he said, taking his chron from Lucas's hand. "I simply do not trust everyone."  His ears flattened slightly as he concentrated on the device, which had started working again as soon as it was back in his hands.  "Here," he said, handing it back to Lucas after a moment's fiddling. "It will work for you from now on." Hands now free, he forgot the device and concentrated on rubbing lotion into the exposed skin of his hands and feet.

Lucas took the computer by its strap and looked at it dubiously. "Don't you need to take a DNA sample for that to..." His hand brushed the crystal display, and to his surprise it sprang to life.  "Hey! How the hell did you do that?"

"I already have your DNA on file," Victus said. When he saw Lucas bristle at the breach of privacy, he went on to explain, "My chron records the pattern of everyone who tries to hack into it," he said. "I've had yours for months."

"Oh," Lucas said, sheepishly.  Any negative feeling he might have had at being sampled without his consent faded when he remembered how often he had tried, when he'd first arrived at the estate, to break into the other man's files.  He thought he’d been sly enough to escape notice, but apparently not.

"Besides,' Victus added, sparing his student a critical glance, "It's hardly as if your DNA is a national secret.  You've been spraying it around the room for the past few months for anyone to sample."

In a fraction of a second Lucas's expression ran through offended and sheepish before finally settling on self-satisfied.  Victus was not certain his point had been made, but he chose to not push it. "I’m well aware that you’ve made attempts to access my data. You did what you felt you had to, at the time," he absolved, "but there is no longer any need for such deceptions." The look he gave Lucas carried significance. "Certain areas of my life will always remain under lock and key because of Kenzine oaths," he explained, seriously, "but you now have access to everything else.  Please do not abuse the privilege."

Lucas nodded and turned his attention back to the chron, his brow furrowing in concentration. It took him a few seconds to recognize the menu structure underneath the device’s custom skin, but soon he was tapping in earnest.  It might bear a super-premium label, but the guts of Victus's wrist computer had been manufactured on the same Shandong production line as most other heavy-duty consumer models, and that included the twenty-credit mil-spec model that Lucas had spent hours hacking in his cockpit while flying interminably long and boring patrols.

Before Victus had even finished scrubbing his teeth, the comm was responding to every poke Lucas gave it with audible tones confirming his entries. "No wonder you're so slow with this thing," the soldier said, absentmindedly. "You can't tell when you've made an entry, so you're always waiting on visual confirmation before you can proceed."

"It must operate in silence," Victus protested, after spitting toothpaste into the sink. "Make it quiet again."

"The beeps and boops are more efficient," Lucas reasoned.

"No boops."

"Fine," Lucas grumbled.  He killed the audio response, but left the tactile transducers engaged. At least that way Victus could tell when he'd hit a button.  A little more fiddling and he straightened his back.  "There!"  He made a flicking gesture on the screen and threw the comm's display onto the wall in front of them. "That's better."  He enlarged the window containing the negin's schedule and began paging through it.  Leland's notes, all but impossible to read on the smaller display, were perfectly legible when magnified to this extent.

Watching his student's every move, Victus couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "I didn't know it could do that."

"Really?" Lucas asked, eyes huge in disbelief. "Who would have guessed."  He rolled his eyes.  "Watching you try to work this thing has been giving me an ulcer.  It's like watching my grandpa try to set the clock on the cooker."

"Sarcasm is the last bastion of the weak-minded," Victus said, reaching up to flick Lucas's ear.  He was not particularly gentle. Lucas yelped in protest and grabbed his ear, rubbing it furiously.

"That we now share a bed does not relieve you of the burden of respecting your elders," Victus warned.  His voice was stern, but the warmth in his eyes took a fair portion of the sting away.  He motioned to the comm. “How did you do that?”

Lucas grinned. “There’s no reason the imaging module can’t do double-duty as a projector,” he explained.  “All you have to do is reverse the inputs and feed it a few lines of code.”

Victus was impressed, but he wasn’t about to show it.  "Hurry up and get dressed,” he said, tying his sash around his waist. “I have the feeling that It's going to be a busy day.”

***

Nineteen hours later, Lucas collapsed on his bed in an exhausted heap.  "Sweet Buddha on a pogo stick," he moaned.  "That man is...impossible."

Victus smiled at his friend's choice of words.  A month ago they would have been foul but now they were merely colorful, meriting an affectionate rub on the head instead of an ear flick. It seemed that his student DID have some measure of self control!

That self-control threatened to break when Lucas took Victus's hand in his own and rolled over on the bed, staring directly into the Kenzine's eyes.  His obviously amorous intentions were short-circuited by an intense grumbling in his belly, a sound reminding both men how long it had been since they'd last eaten.  In a fit of childish pique Mal had refused to give either of them time to eat before the formal dinner, then ordered them to stand symbolic watch over his guests while everyone else in the hall stuffed themselves on roast pork and sausages. The silent guard was a high honor which carried no meaning in this setting.

Skipping a meal or two would hardly be the death of either of them and Victus might have even welcomed a short fast, but it irked him that Mal was plaguing Lucas for no good reason.    

A second loud rumble from Lucas's belly decided the matter, and Victus used his grip to pull his student to his feet.  "Raid the kitchen for us," he instructed, causing Lucas's ears to perk.  He caught the other man's arm before he escaped. "No fats, no simple carbohydrates, and no dessert. While you are gone I am going to report to Master Dagen." Lucas did not protest the dietary restriction, but the disappointed look on his face softened Victus’s resolve.  "You may have a reasonable amount of lean meat," he allowed, finally. "And since you're going to disobey me and mash a dessert into your face on the way back here, you might as well bring me one too.  A small one!" he hissed, at Lucas's swiftly retreating back. He shook his head in a gesture that said, “why me?” and dialed his father's number.

To his surprise, when Master Dagen completed the connection Victus could see stars passing behind him in the background.  "Where are you?" he inquired, curiously.  

"I'm in my cabin," Dagen replied, as if it were obvious.  His gaze followed Victus's over his shoulder, and he gave a start of recognition.  "Oh, yes!" he said, upon seeing the moving starfield. "Sorry.  Abbot Wesley requested that I mediate a labor dispute on some backwater planet that has some sort of tactical merit." he rolled his eyes.  "It's hardly the stuff of ballads.  It takes four days to get out there, five days to get back, and I'll spend all of thirty minutes pouring tea and asking them to play nice, and praising them for working together so well to resolve their problems.  Maybe they'll be so impressed that a real, live Kenzine thought their dispute was worth hearing that they’ll finally start to talk to each other.” He sighed, tiredly. “It's like having mommy in the room at a children's tea party," he said, acerbically.  He shrugged.  " Whatever. If it makes the universe spin a little smoother, I'm all for it."

"I don’t think you’re going to be too put out by this mandatory week-long vacation," Victus chided. "You’ve been complaining for months that you can never find the time to finish your book."

Looking abashed, Dagen held up his dog-eared manuscript for the camera to see.  "You caught me. The abbot did mention that he's been expecting to see the final draft for a while, now."  He waggled his eyebrows excitedly.  "Those exciting little precambrian fertility fetishes can't hide from me!"  He sighed good naturedly and tossed the sheaf of papers onto the table, where they landed with a weighty whump that informed his son just how unexciting he found the subject.  "Your life has to be more interesting than mine, dear boy." He leaned forward, expectantly. "What's up?"

Victus dutifully ran through the minor events since their last conversation, delivering a textbook field report which spelled out the pertinent facts while keeping them free of personal bias. By the time he was finished, Dagen was practically squirming with curiosity.  He was all about the personal bias.  "And how is Mister Mackenzie doing?" Dagen finally had to ask, his patience all but exhausted. "It's been several weeks since you've mentioned him."

"You've been very good about not asking," Victus observed.

Dagen looked at his son drolly.  "That time is at an end, my boy.  The Sphinx will whistle before you divulge anything interesting, if I don't dig it out of you."  He narrowed his gaze.  "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes," Victus said, and after waiting long enough that his father looked about to explode with curiosity, he added, "he has been receptive."

"Receptive?" Dagen looked as if he'd swallowed a fly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?  This isn't a trade negotiation, for the love of God, it's your..."  He trailed off as his own words worked their way through his brain.  "YOUR love life," he nodded his head and had the good grace to look sheepish.  "Got it. Sorry."

"I'm glad you care, dad," Victus said. "I'm figuring this out.  Or rather, we're figuring it out.  This is his first time too, so we're taking it slow for a while." He smiled at his father. "Thanks for being there for us."

Upon hearing the word, "us", a hundred happy suns exploded inside Dagen's heart.

A buzzing noise drew Victus's attention to his wrist. "Hold on," he forestalled Dagen's inevitable question with a raised finger as he read the memo on his comm.  The longer he read, the deeper his brows furled.  

When the screen darkened, Victus returned his attention to his father.  His eyes were calm, but Dagen immediately saw through his facade. "What's wrong?" he asked.  

"Mal has just scheduled an off-planet winery tour for tomorrow," Victus answered, bleakly. "I now have five hours in which to ensure security at an unknown venue, a dozen light years away."

"That's impossible," Dagen exploded.  "How could he expect you to do something like that in less than a week?"

Victus held his hands up placatingly. "He does this on a regular basis.  It'll be fine.  I'll just..."

"Stay up all night planning when you should be sleeping?" Dagen supplied.  When Victus merely looked harried, Dagen relented.  "I'm sorry, Vic.  I just hate to see you jump through hoops like this. You deserve better."  

When Victus looked up, there was a distinct twinkle in his eye. "I only wish you had felt that way when I was fifteen, and you decided that I needed to deliver a glass of water to Master Stedman. I seem to remember that at the time, Master Stedman was in the next town. Fifteen miles away.  And it was two in the morning."

Dagen suddenly looked embarrassed, but Victus didn't let him hang for too long.  "It's all right, father," he said, smiling softly at Dagen's hangdog expression. "I lived through that and I'll live through this."  He hunkered down and looked squarely into the camera.  "And this time, I've got help."

From his side of the connection, Master Dagen could hear a door opening somewhere in the background, and then a voice. "Make a spot, Vic, this platter's hot."

"Is that your little helper?" Dagen asked, perhaps too eagerly. "Put him on.  I'd like to meet him!"

Victus pretended not to hear him. "Good night, Master Dagen. I will update you in a few days."

***

Victus met up with Leland early the next day while Lucas was getting their breakfast from the kitchen.  "The futon must be removed from my bedroom," he said, without waiting for a greeting from the majordomo.  He had learned early on that if a servant of the house waited for a greeting from Leland before speaking, he or she was likely to be waiting for a very long time.

The odd request broke Leland’s concentration away from his tablet. "Your futon?" Leland looked confused.  "Is it broken? Do you need another one delivered?"

"No," Victus said, patiently. "Lucas and I now share a bed, and the futon can be removed.  We can use the extra space."

Although he’d made inferences about the Kenzine’s sexual preference only a few days prior, Leland had not truly expected that he would be involved with another man, especially not with Lucas MacKenzie. Victus Entrades comported himself with an almost Victorian sense of propriety which made idea of him doing anything as common as having carnal relations - let alone with another man - almost unthinkable. "You said you weren't doing that," he objected.

Victus almost enjoyed Leland’s discomfiture. "We weren't, when you asked," he said.  "That has changed."

"Oh, it has?" Leland sounded dubious.  He sighed and returned most of his attention to his tablet.  "Don't let the negin know. He'll blow a gasket."

Victus sounded surprised.  "Actually, he didn't seem to care."

Leland’s attention snapped back to the Protector, and for the first time in their association he appeared to be at a loss for words. “You...what?” His speechless condition soon remedied itself.  "Why the hell did you tell him?" he asked.  

Victus drew back his shoulders. "I am in his employ and living under his roof," he said, as if it should be obvious. "Of course I told him."

Leland was full of wary curiosity. "And what did he say?"

Victus thought for a moment to make certain he was remembering correctly. "I believe his exact words were, 'I don't care what the hell you do with the help.  Make him your chew toy, for all I care, just don't damage him."  Speaking for himself now, he added, "I don't believe he considers us human, so in his eyes there is no offense.  Merely...curiosity?" he speculated, looking momentarily puzzled.  "For whatever reason, he honestly doesn't seem to care."

For a moment Leland’s face tightened at the corners like his ears were being pulled back, but then something inside the man relaxed so profoundly that the change was unmistakable.  In Victus’s experience, nobody’s attitude ever changed so quickly and so completely as Leland’s just had without some form of duplicity being involved. He had never allowed his guard to completely fall around Leland, but until today he had always felt that he knew where he stood with the majordomo. Suddenly, he actively distrusted the man.

“You two will be...together?” Leland asked, uncertainly, “or is this a temporary arrangement?”

“It is far too early to know how our relationship will evolve,” Victus said, concealing his unease. “Either outcome is possible.”

“Hmmm.” Leland purred, thoughtfully. “Love is rare, and it would be a pity to pass up an opportunity which comes along so infrequently in this world of ours.” He looked away suddenly, as if only then remembering something.  “Speaking of opportunities, enjoy the tour.  Your shuttle leaves at eleven and should be at the jump gate by thirteen.  Don’t forget to account for the time difference.”

“I have not forgotten,” Victus said.  While doing his research the night before, he’d been pleased to learn that the difference between time zones was sufficient that the negin, at least, could be asleep for most of their journey.  His being unconscious would make the trip more peaceful for all of them.  “If I recall correctly, local time at the winery is minus thirteen?”

“Something like that.”  Leland’s pruny scowl told Victus both that he’d remembered correctly, and that it was time to make his exit from the man’s office.

***

“And then he just turned away?”  Lucas asked disbelievingly, when the two were again in their room after breakfast, far from the prying ears and eyes of the kitchen servants.  “He didn’t even bother calling us abominations, or anything?”  

Victus looked over to make sure that his electronic scrambler was still on the nightstand where he’d placed it, and that its power light was still blinking.  His shrug communicated that he was equally baffled by the Majordomo’s tepid reaction. “If I had to choose one word to describe his attitude, it would have been ‘supportive’. Or at very least, ‘apathetic’.”  He shook his head in confusion that mirrored Lucas’s. “When someone’s behavior falls this far outside their normal range I tend to suspect that I’m being played, but in this case I can’t see what he would hope to gain by our being together.”

Lucas frowned slightly.  “Don’t you think it’s possible that you’re being a bit paranoid?”  Victus looked at him skeptically, but Lucas didn’t back down. “Maybe? Just a little?”

Victus looked away. “I don’t think paranoia is possible where the Galesian Houses are concerned.”

Lucas frowned. “You’ve got a point.  If you can’t see the hidden motive with this crowd it’s because you’re not looking hard enough.” Deep in thought, he began pacing back and forth. “So what does he have to gain?” he asked. “We know he hates the negin just as much as we do.  The negin won’t have a bodyguard if we’re both gone,” he surmised, “He could have Mal taken out at any point after we’re gone, and replace him with someone more tractable.”

“A solid motive,” Victus said, “but unlikely. The assassination of any house member, even Rudex Mal, would bring shame to the house. No matter how much he despises the negin, he would never let that happen.  In fact,” he said, looking thoughtful, “I have sometimes wondered if that’s why Mal plays the part of the buffoon so loudly. The more people are watching him, the harder he is to dispose of.”

Lucas shrugged. “It’s possible.  But still, Leland can’t stand me.  He’s never had a good thing to say about me, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to see me gone.”  He huffed a dissatisfied breath.  “I just hope he doesn’t stab me in the back before I get out the door.”

“He’s certainly not fond of you,” Victus admitted, “which makes his reaction all the more remarkable.”  

Much as he did not want to do so, VIctus couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room. “Your arguments make the assumption that you’ll be able to leave when I do.  It’s entirely possible...probable, actually...that you’ll have to stay behind when I leave.  I have no idea what it will take, or how long it will be before I can free you from your contract.”  

Lucas was silent.  Inside his skull, his thoughts raced with uncharacteristic disorder.  Piloting a space fighter had required him to wrangle sensory inputs from a dozen different sources at once and form a clear picture out of what most people would have considered turmoil.  But now, faced with the thought of Victus leaving him behind, his brain locked up. In spite of him having so few options, the decision tree of his life suddenly seemed to have far more branches than his brain could handle.  

“Lucas!”  

Hearing his name spoken so sharply broke through Lucas’s fugue. “Huh?” He looked up to see Victus looking at him quizzically.  

“Are you all right? You did not look well.  You were breathing hard," he explained, "and staring into space.”

Lucas realized that his mentor was right - he was all but panting.  “I’m okay,” he said, then held his breath for a few seconds to stabilize his breathing. He let out the air in a long, controlled sigh and felt much better.  He would rather have left his feelings undiscussed, but the expectant look in Victus’s eyes told him that that wasn’t going to happen. It was nice to have someone concerned about his well being, but he hoped that Victus wasn’t going to turn his every sneeze or fart into an opportunity for caring and sharing.  He was a man who valued his freedom, and so much attention seemed overwhelmingly intrusive.  Best, he thought, to be as truthful, and brief, as possible.  “Sorry. There’s just...I don’t know.  It feels like my life is on the verge of spinning out of my control.” He waited for his teacher to supply him a rational answer, or at very least to show him how to find the answer himself, the way he did when Lucas asked about a wrestling hold or a surveillance technique. Instead, Victus motioned for him to make room on the bed.  

“Scoot,” he said, waving Lucas to the side and sitting down next to him.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, his eyes communicating his regret,  “but that doesn’t mean that you have to find the answers all by yourself,’ he said, reasonably.  “Between us, we have a great store of resources to draw upon.”  Reaching up to Lucas’s shoulder, he said, ‘You don’t ever have to walk alone again, if it’s not by your own choice.”

“Are you proposing to me?” Lucas joked, sounding uncomfortable.

Victus immediately pulled back into his own space, inwardly cursing his lack of experience with social relations.  “No,” he said firmly, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.  “I offer you nothing more than I would extend to any other friend of the Kenzine.”

“Friend of the Kenzine,” Lucas echoed, uncertainly. The way Victus had said the words gave them an oddly formal flavor.

“I apologize if I have overstepped my boundaries,” Victus said, suddenly unable to meet Lucas’s eyes.  His speech had returned to its previous formal patterns. “I have not discussed this with you, but given our relationship, I thought that I might call you ‘friend’.  And as my friend, you would be recognized by every other Kenzine as well.”

“Huh,” Lucas wuffed.  “That’s a lot of friends to take on, all at once,” he said, reminding himself that, watered down as it was, Sapiens ‘friendship’ carried little resemblance to most Varius associations. Pinkies didn’t have Circles, and their informal relationships carried no legal weight. Lucas knew nothing about Victus’s varius circle, if he was even a member of one. “How many other ‘friends’ do you have, anyway?”

At this opportunity to teach, Victus’s voice regained some of its confidence.  “Although traveling Kenzine will often form a great number of casual acquaintances in their lives, by necessity, only a very few of those relationships will be close enough to be called friends, and would be able to call upon the resources of the Kenzine body.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Lucas pressed.  “How many friends do YOU have?”

Reminded of Master Dagen’s incessant pressure for him to find friends of his own, Victus sighed impatiently. “One.”  At Lucas’s raised eyebrow, he suddenly felt foolish.  He added, “If you say yes.”

The corners of Lucas’s lips curled up in a wry smile. “You don’t have any friends?” he asked.  “Any?”

Victus got up from the bed, looking thoroughly displeased to be discussing this.  “I have plenty of friends,” he said, defensively, “they just all happen to be fellow Kenzine.”

“Work friends, then?” Lucas teased.

Victus shook his head.  “No.  Well… yes.  I suppose.   But they’re more like extended family, really.”  He locked eyes with Lucas, willing the man to understood the import of what he was being told.  “If you agree, you’ll be a part of that family too,” he warned. “They might not be varius, but it’s every bit as serious as being in a Circle. It’s a brotherhood.”

Lucas was quiet for a moment, then nodded his understanding.  “I get it,” he said, solemnly.   “Strangely, enough, that actually makes me feel a little better.” As much as he might tease Victus about having no close friends, he had to admit that he himself was little better. Although he was a member of several casual groupings, he’d never felt comfortable joining a Circle.  Fast and casual, was his motto.  He liked to stay light on his social feet, and binding himself into a Circle had always seemed needlessly burdensome. But being asked to join a circle of virtual Ninja warriors, even if most of them were sapiens... well, that was just cool!  He ruffled his fingers through his headfur to get his brain running again, then blew out a breath. What was the worst that could happen?  “Okay, fine,” he said, decisively.  “Where do I sign?”

Victus knew that some Circles required formal contracts, but being raised by sapiens, he’d never actually seen one. “No, it’s informal,” he said. “The next time I talk to someone at the abbey, I’ll have you added to my file as a trusted contact.”  He was interrupted by the buzzing of his comm unit.  “It’s time for the morning meeting,“ he said, scanning the display for any last minute changes to the agenda. “We’ll discuss the ramifications later, but for now we’ve got to get moving.”

“Is there a secret handshake?” Lucas asked, his tail wagging back and forth with childlike enthusiasm. “And what about my decoder ring?  When do I get that?”

Lucas continued to pepper Victus with questions throughout the morning, interspersing sincere requests for information with infantile humor which suggested that the idea of being bonded to Victus, even through as tenuous a connection as friendship, might be might be more disturbing to Lucas than he was willing to admit.  

Not knowing any better way to handle the situation, Victus answered each question as if it were serious.  “Yes, we have a credit union.” “No, there is no ceremony.”  “No, there are no meetings.” “No, they won’t interfere with your daily life, and no, there are no dues.”

***

After ten hours of travel over land, air, space and water, Mal, Victus and Lucas arrived at the winery, where Mal seemed astonished to find that he was not the only person who’d had the idea to visit that day. Instead of being afforded the one-on-one VIP treatment he felt he deserved, his band of three had been lumped into a group along with a dozen common tourists.  He was well on his way to exploding when Lucas leaned over and quietly explained to him that, uncultured though the other people may be, they did represent profit centers for this new venture, and the negin would gain invaluable insight by observing them and noting what they liked and disliked about the existing tour.  

Victus reached into his robes and used his ultrasonic signaller to praise his student. “Impressive.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Lucas signalled back, smiling.

Mal entertained himself playing the part of industrial spy and marketing wizard, paying careful attention to everything said by the guide and his fellow tourists, whispering notes into his comm at a steady pace. Feeling as if he were in control stabilized the negin sufficiently to finish the tour without breaking down, but by the time they parted ways with their host Mal was back to his usual intemperate self. “I just might buy this cesspit of a winery,” he muttered as they were leaving, “just so I can fire that simpering little idiot of a tour guide.”

Victus felt relief that the tour had concluded without incident.  Capable as he was, his nerves were still frayed by the negin’s mercurial lack of planning.  A man as ill-tempered as the Mal made a difficult job even worse by generating conflict wherever he went, and without Leland here to calm him down, it seemed miraculous indeed whenever they escaped social situations without Mal offending at least a half dozen people.

The second half of their tour was an automated, anti-grav gondola ride where tourists could experience the planet’s unsullied majesty from a variety of altitudes. Starting over the winery’s vineyard, the gondola took its passengers on a pre-programmed route down the coastline and over some of the most spectacular scenery yet discovered by man.  It was an experience meant to be shared in a group, but Mal had paid, prodded and cajoled the rest of their group into taking the next car.

With only the three of them, the car, which had been built to hold a dozen people comfortably, felt cavernous and cold.  “Why is it so important that you be alone in this?” Victus asked, perplexed. “That had to have just cost you a thousand credits.”  

“Because I hate people who have nothing to offer me,” Mal said, immediately. “If feeding a little money to them makes them go away, it’s a small price to pay.  Besides,” he added, reaching into the small cooler at the center of the gondola and pulling out a small bottle of the winery’s offering, “this way I have the snacks to myself.”  He rooted around in the shoulder bag that Lucas was carrying for him and pulled out the gaudy, gold emperor’s chalice that he preferred to use when making a statement.   

He waddled back to the cooler and, seemingly at random, pulled out a half dozen bottles and cracked them open, pouring one after another into the chalice without regard to color or vintage. “Here,” he demanded, stiffly holding the glass out to Victus. “Test this.”

Victus sighed inaudibly and pulled two small plastic cups from their storage bins.  Carefully, he poured a small amount of the mixed wine into each cup and handed one to Lucas. “Evaluate this, please.”  

Lucas waved off the electronic tester that Victus offered in favor of using the biological testing equipment he’d been born with. He swirled the contents in the glass, sniffed them carefully, then took a cautious sip and swirled it around in his mouth.  He spat the liquid back into the glass and shrugged. "Fresh and foxy, just like you like it. But it tastes clean to me."  He put the small glass down and walked a meter closer to the windows to keep better eye on their surroundings. “You might want to drink it out of a different glass, though,” he said, pointing at the chalice in Mal’s hand.  “That one’s leaching bisphenols into the wine and corrupting the flavor.”

Victus used his tester on the wine and came to a similar conclusion. “I agree,” he said, returning the gaudy, gold-plated vessel to its owner. "It appears to be safe. And he’s right about the chemicals."

Mal ignored the advice and  took a greedy slug from his chalice, then wiped an errant, garnet drop from his disturbingly cherubic lips. “Good enough,” he smacked.  He threw himself into the nearest chair with an exhausted sigh and set himself to the task of demolishing the contents of the cooler. Apparently he wasn’t nearly as concerned about being poisoned as he pretended to be, for he didn’t ask either man to test his wine again that day. One after another the small bottles were emptied and thrown onto the floor, where they rolled gently back and forth with the motion of the car.

A half hour later, their car was chasing the sunset down a craggy coastline that reminded Victus of Dover’s white cliffs.  Mal, utterly unaware of the spectacular scenery, had not moved from where he’d sat. “Why don’t you come look at the view?” Victus suggested. “It is truly magnificent.”

“I have about as much interest in sightseeing as I do in going on winery tours,” the negin said, sourly.

Victus looked at him oddly. “Then why are you here?”

For perhaps the first time that day, the negin smiled. “Because I overheard Meredith Warner telling one of her sycophantic idiots how difficult it is to get a spot on this tour.” Lazily, he twirled his wine glass between overfed fingers. “Now I can tell her - and everyone else who’s within earshot - how I got a car right away, and I had it all to myself.”  

“You did all this, just so you could one-up Meredith Warner?”  Victus said, after a dumbfounded silence.

“Oh, it’s going to be so sweet, taking the wind out of her sails,” the negin muttered, more to himself than to Victus. “She’ll look like a complete idiot.”

Lucas and Victus looked at each other and, as one, shrugged. The man’s behavior was incomprehensible to them.  Seeing that the negin was nearly asleep, Lucas spoke softly. "You know,” he confided, “I used to feel a little jealous that you at least get to taste what the big boys are drinking, but after seeing the cheap swill he drinks I think I'd rather just have water instead."

"It's not cheap," Vic said. "At least, that case of wine he just bought at the vineyard wasn't."

Lucas chuckled. "Riiight," he drawled. He glanced back at the Negin, who was snoring softly in his chair. "The best thing about that wine is the art on the bottles.  That company has a reputation for selling a mediocre product under a half-dozen fancy names.  They bump up their profit by splitting the main casks six ways and calling them all "vintner's reserve".

Victus looked annoyed.  “It’s our job to prevent the Negin from coming to harm.  If you knew he was being swindled, why didn’t  you say anything?”

“Because he likes it,” Lucas said, as if explaining himself to a toddler.  “He has no idea he’s drinking glorified grape juice, he just knows that it’s expensive, and that makes him happy.”  His grin was mercenary. “Who are we to rain on his parade?”

Victus’ lips were pressed into a thin line. “If you see me pouring five thousand credits down a rathole, please do me the favor of advising me of my error in judgement.”

Lucas chuckled. “You don’t seem to be the type of man to throw money away like that.  Besides, If you had five thousand credits to spend, I doubt you’d waste it on something as frivolous as something that’s going to end up in the toilet in an hour.  

Victus looked at him with curious eyes.  “If you had five thousand credits, what would you spend it on?”

“Wine women and song, my friend,” Lucas shot back, easily.  “But probably not in that order.”  After a moment’s consideration he grew somber.  “Actually, I think I’d probably do something totally boring and apply it to my buyout, or invest it, or whatever it would take to get us away from here that much faster.”

The words warmed Victus, but he didn’t know what he should say in return. “They were right,” Victus said, into the awkward silence.  “It’s a beautiful view.”  From their vantage point, now a half kilometer above the surface, the rolling hills that ran alongside the continent’s Eastern coast stretched around them on all sides.  He was trying to think of a way to fill the silence when he saw Lucas’s attention locked on something over his left shoulder.

“What’s that?” his student asked, pointing to something outside the car.

“Where?” Victus asked, instantly on guard.  Whatever it was had moved outside his sightline, and he moved quickly to a spot where he could get a better look at the object. Following the path described by the other man, Victus could indeed see a dark spot approaching their position. Its shape was almost lost in the late afternoon sun, and Victus was certain that he never would have seen the object had Lucas not spotted it first.

The Kenzine remembered seeing something printed in the brochure for this attraction.  He stepped over to where Mal lay and plucked the concession advertisement from under the Negin’s beefy arm.  He scanned the schedule of fees and quickly found what he was looking for.  “Could it be this?” He asked Lucas, pointing to an item on the menu of services.

“Video drone documentary available for a nominal fee…” he said, not sounding convinced. He held the brochure up to obscure the sun, allowing the flying object to peek around the paper’s hard edge. “It looks like it could be one of those things,” Lucas guessed, hesitantly.  “I don’t know. Coming out of the sun like that… Suspicious.  And there’s no way in hell Leland would have paid extra for something like that,” he pointed out. “Mal’s not even paying attention.”

The drone was growing larger as they watched, and soon it was so close that it they couldn’t see it for the curve of the car’s roof. A second later, both varii heard a soft but distinct thud as the drone made contact.  “No way in hell was that supposed to happen,” Lucas observed. “I think... There it goes!”  He pointed upwards at the drone, retreating the way it came. “I think it left something attached to the roof.”

“That’s not good,” Victus said.  He made his decision and turned to the emergency escape hatch built into the roof of the car. He opened it and was preparing to step out when he was stopped by Lucas’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on there, Vic. It’s probably just some sort of listening device, but if it does turn out to be a bomb, I’ve got more experience with that than you do.”  

The sound of the door opening had awakened the slumbering Mal.  “A bomb?” he squealed. “Do something!  Protect me!”

“We do not yet know what the device is,” Victus said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind rushing past the open door.  “In any case, I am doing something.  I am sending our best resource out to deal with the situation.”

Angry and scared, Mal spat, “Don’t patronize me, Kenzine!  I’m not a fucking child!”  

Lucas shouldered his way around his mentor.  “You told me to be proactive, so…” he shrugged. “Move.”

Victus sighed and backed away.  As much as he wanted to manage the situation, Lucas was right.  If the object was an explosive, his military training would serve them better. A wave of his arm sent Lucas up the ladder and out the hatch.

For almost a minute both men listened to Lucas’ feet padding back and forth across the upper hull of the ship. Then the hatchway opened again, admitting the varius. He climbed down the ladder, holding something about the size of a shoebox under his arm.

“Yup, it’s a bomb, all right,” he said, after closing the door behind him.

Victus was annoyed. “One does not usually panic ones charges by telling them that there is a bomb in the room,”

“He’s an adult,” Lucas said, calmly. “Stop patronizing him.” Casually, he tossed the bomb to Mal, who shrieked in fright and tried to jump away. The back of his knees hit the chair behind him and he fell into it, heavily.

Lucas moved quickly, grabbing the package before it could hit the ground and casually tossing it from hand to hand. “What, do you think I’d leave it armed?  I’m not that stupid.”  He handed it over to Victus.  “Here. You want to see?”

Victus took it from him, examining it carefully from all angles. Lucas had pulled the primary detonator wires free of the main charge, but the device still looked ominous. Curious, Victus pulled the magnets away from the main structure and looked for any traceable information that they might have concealed. “Does it detonate remotely, or with a timer?”

“A timer. It’s- Whoops!” Lucas grabbed the package out of Victus’ hands and jumped halfway up the escape ladder.  Hurriedly pushing open the hatch, he climbed halfway out and lobbed the package over the edge of the car.  Through the window, Victus caught a fleeting glimpse of the bomb as it flew past.

“Why did you do that?” Victus asked, perplexed. “We might have been able to trace the components!”

“When you pulled off the magnets, I saw something that might have been a secondary timing circuit hidden-” he was cut off by the thunderclap of an explosion.  “...underneath, to destroy the evidence in case the primary failed.” he continued, after the echoing rumble had died down.  "You owe me big time," he smirked at Mal. "I just saved your life. Twice."

"We wouldn't have been in danger if you hadn't brought the fucking thing in here to begin with!" Mal yelled, adrenaline turning his voice high and shaky. "Why didn't you just pitch it over the edge in the first place?"

"Have you looked underneath us lately?" Lucas asked. "We're directly over the largest city on the west coast of this sorry planet." He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to toss a bomb into the backyard of a school or a private residence?"

"Better them than me," Mal said, utterly without humor.

"Or onto the roof of a brothel?" Lucas amended.

Mal shrugged. "That might be a minor tragedy," he grudgingly admitted.  A half beat later he asked, with the first real interest he'd shown that day, "Does this planet really have brothels?"

"No." Victus' extensive Kenzine training did not include rolling his eyes at his employer, but he thought about it. "Be glad you're alive, and be thankful that Lucas was here to save us."

It might not have been phrased in the most delicate way, but it was certainly true and all three men knew it.

Emergency over, Victus returned to scanning his environment. The best time for an attack, he knew, was immediately after you’ve been defeated and your enemy thinks you’re helpless.  If he knew that, then whomever sent the bomb might as well. He motioned to Lucas. “Check the interior of the car for threats.”

While Lucas diligently searched their gondola, Victus maintained watch on the skies around them.  As he scanned the horizon, he took passing notice of the brilliant sunset surrounding them.  Their car was at its greatest height now, and the panorama spreading out on all sides of them was truly spectacular.  Yet he was so busy looking for threats that he was enjoying none of it. How much of life is slipping through my fingers? he wondered. How much joy is escaping while I guard people who don’t bring value to the world?

He spared a few seconds to look over the man whom he was very fond of, and who might eventually become his mate.  Physically strong and mentally quick, fiercely loyal yet almost childlike in some aspects, Lucas MacKenzie was a tangled ball of contradictions that Victus was looking forward to unravelling. He had a mere six weeks left on this contract, after which Lucas was going to have to step up and guard Negin Mal by himself for as long as it took to release him from his bondage.   Would that take months, or even years?  Given Rudex Mal’s foul temper, would Lucas stay alive that long?  And should the negin harm him...

That line of thought was troubling, but it was something Victus might well have to face.  Negin Mal considered his employees to be little more than tools, and If he broke Lucas he would throw him away and buy another slave without any more concern than he’d show over purchasing a replacement for a broken hammer.  Given Lucas’s insouciance, the scenario was not an unlikely one.   

And worse, if he harmed Lucas, how would Victus react?

After a moment, Victus consciously pushed the thought aside.  Although it was generally good tactical strategy to consider all possible outcomes, thinking about Lucas being harmed could send him into a downward spiral of negativity which would be difficult to escape.  On this matter, he resolved, he should strive to live in the now.  He would handle issues as they arose, and until that point he would experience what joy he could.  Perhaps Master Dagen would have advice for him.

“Lucas,” he called, so quietly that Mal’s sapiens ears could not hear. “Come enjoy the sunset with me.”