"Relax."

"I should be telling you the same thing," Bo said, bluntly. "You look like shit."

"I am...aware of that."  The Kenzine wished that he could express his frustration, but to do so would have been counterproductive.  Had his hair not been returned to its traditional braid he would have run his fingers through it.  Perhaps that's why all Kenzine wore their hair that way, he thought, to remove that particular temptation to express their negative emotions.  "Getting kicked out of your mind over and over again is not pleasant."

Victus took a deep breath and settled himself for another attempt. "Shall we try again?"

Bo leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on his massive fists.

Victus paused, racking his brain to find a different way to approach this problem.  He had tried a dozen ways to tackle this issue head-on and nothing had worked, so maybe it was time to approach from the side, instead. "Stand behind him, Dan," Vic instructed. While Dan complied, the Kenzine closed his eyes and waited for his mind to reach equilibrium. "Establish your bond, and convene with Bo in your..." He paused, trying to translate his words into something more dignified, but failed.  Even the Kenzine had no technical term for this. “...happy place.”

Dan smiled.  That was an instruction which came easily.  Within seconds, he and Bo were flying through the clouds together, happy and carefree.  At the periphery of their awareness he could sense Victus’ presence, a friendly spirit requesting permission in the most non-threatening manner possible. It worked, Dan thought excitedly. He was in!

The high-voltage crack that came a moment later was the same as it had been a half-dozen times before.  It was the sting of an electric fence, the crispy pop of a bug zapper, a thick rubber band snapped against tender skin. It hurt.

The aftershock of the rejection flung Dan back into his corporeal body with unpleasant force. Blinking his eyes hard to get them to focus, he couldn't imagine how much more harrowing it had been for Victus; and multiple times, at that.

"No more," Dan announced, finally realizing the toll this exercise was taking on their new friend.  

"That's enough."   He was afraid that this failure was his fault, caused by his exuberance when he thought Victus had succeeded. He saw that the Kenzine looked more than just haggard now, he looked drained.  "I'm sorry, Vic, I had no idea it felt like that."

"It's okay, Dan," Victus said, rubbing his temples.  "I am glad to try to help."  Asking Dan to help him like that had been a last resort.  He knew no matter how much they needed his help, the man would never let Victus continue once he knew the toll it was taking on the Kenzine.  He turned to Bo. "Maybe it's something in your military training that's keeping me out," he said, wearily. "Maybe something they did to prevent brainwashing, or... I don't know."

That was possible - highly improbable, but possible.  It seemed far more likely that some personal element from Bo's past was preventing the healing bond from forming, something that distrusted authority figures and refused to admit interlopers into his treasured sanctuary. But if he told Bo that the failure was his, it might permanently poison the process.

The wolf's ears swiveled in reaction to a sound that had filtered through from the adjoining suite. A heartbeat later, the sound of Negin Mal's voice wormed its way through the cabin's otherwise excellent sound damping. "Not that we would have had time to do anything more."  He pulled himself out of his chair with an almost palpable air of weariness. "It appears that the negin will soon require my presence."  

The door clicked shut behind Victus, leaving behind him Bo, Dan, and something else.  Dan thought the new occupant smelled like despair, but Bo thought it stunk of failure. "I'm the one who should be saying how sorry I am," he told Dan, to fill the uncomfortable silence. "I know it doesn't look like it, but I really am trying."

"I know you are, Boo," Dan said, pulling Bo down so that his head rested in his lap.  "I know you are."

There were few places in the world Bo would rather be than next to his partner, but even so, sitting still for long was not in his nature and it wasn't long before he grew restless.  Sensing his partner's disquiet, Dan gave his shoulder a final squeeze. "Get up," he complained with a smile.  "You're crushing me."

"Yeah, right," Bo said, levering himself off the sofa and glancing back at his husband. He was going to give him a poke in the chest with his finger, but something about Dan's appearance made him hesitate. Dan was somewhat more bulky than he remembered. "Is it just my imagination, or are you getting bigger?"

"I don't know," Dan said, not yet certain whether he should feel self-conscious or pleased. "I guess I've probably put on a few pounds over the past couple of months. A quick scan of their link told him that Bo wasn't displeased by what he saw, and Dan relaxed. "That's no big surprise," he said, raising a wry eyebrow, "given the amount of food we eat."

"I guess not," Bo said, giving Dan one last look before turning away. "Let's get out of here and scare up something to do. I don't want to spend all day sitting in this room when there's a whole ship out there to explore."  He turned to the bathroom. "Let me drop a bomb and I'll be ready to go."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Close the door this time."  He raised his voice so Bo couldn't claim not to have heard him, "And turn on the fan!" He couldn't tell if Bo heard him or not, but he guessed it didn't really matter.  They'd be out of the cabin soon enough, and then any problem would be the cabin steward's to resolve.

Knowing this could take a few minutes, Dan pulled out his comm and patched a call back home through the Earth's satellite network.  His comm's screen turned yellow in protest of the weak signal, but it didn't turn red so Dan thought it would get through. It got a little better when he stood near the window.  He hit a speed dial button and waited a few seconds for the call to go through.

"Hey, what's up?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded harried.  

"Ken!" Dan exclaimed, not even trying to keep the excitement from his voice. "I'm calling you from the ship!"

"Oh, hey!" the voice called back, after a short pause. "Bo's going to shit kittens if you're calling over the ship's network.  I hear those things cost an arm and a leg."

"Nah," Dan scoffed. "We're still in comm range, so we're good."  Behind his friend, he heard some sort of commotion, like a four-year-old child banging on pots and pans.  "What's going on? You want to go to vid?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dan waited, and in a few seconds he grinned involuntarily as the face of his feline circlemate filled the screen. His smile widened into a full fledged smirk when he noticed a small drop of something white clinging to the tip of one of Ken's long, dark whiskers. "I can call back if I'm interrupting."

Ken looked puzzled for a moment, then noticed the direction of Dan's gaze and rolled his eyes all the way to one side to see what had caught his friend's attention.  Catching sight of the errant droplet, he chuckled and ran his fingers along his whiskers to clean them. "Heh... No, that's bechamel sauce. Jack's taking advantage of your being gone to cook us a special meal tonight.

Dan nodded sagely.  "That would explain the ruckus."

“He's-" The frantic barking of an excited dog cut Ken off short. "Joy!" Ken demanded. "Stop it!"

Behind Ken, Dan saw Jack, or rather, Jack's back and horns, scuttle past, the rest of the bull's bulk hidden behind the kitchen island as he chased something along on the floor. Dan groaned. "Is she trying to herd him again?"

Ken looked aggrieved, but was still smiling. "She thinks she's helping. Jack saw lobsters on sale at the store -"

"Thus, the special meal," Dan interrupted.

"Thus the special meal," Ken agreed, "and he bought a pair of them, even though he didn't know how to cook them yet."

"We're not to that point in the book yet!" Jack's muffled voice piped up to defend his decision, even though his body was completely off screen. "It's a systematic course, and I"m following the system!"

"I'm not picking at you, babe," Ken said, "I'm just telling him what happened." He turned his face back to Dan and his attention back to his story. Regardless of what he said to Jack, he was obviously enjoying this. "Anyway, he picks up a couple of lobsters at the fish counter, brings them home, and gets everything ready.  When he picked them up, he let out this blood curdling scream because he didn't know they were still alive!"

"I did not!" Jack bellowed, still out of sight somewhere on the kitchen floor.

From his vantage point, Dan could see Ken's fingers tapping away at his comm.  The words, "Did too! Screamed like a little girl!" came over in a text message bubble at the bottom of Dan's screen.

"You're right," Ken agreed with his partner. He rolled his eyes, but his voice sounded sincere. "You were just startled."

"The book didn't say they were going to move!"

"So now Jack's trying to wrangle them back in the sack and Joy's trying to help him, thus it sounds like world war three in here right now.  But it was good talking to you! Have fun!"

Ken's image disappeared off the screen, punctuated by a final crash of pots and pans that left Dan wondering how much of their kitchen would be standing when they returned. However, any worries about disaster back home were pushed to the back burner as he joined his husband to seek out new adventures.

***

"Dan?"

Dan turned to see Victus hurrying towards him, carrying a sheaf of papers in one hand. Dan thought this seemed peculiar, since Kenzine did not carry the reputation as those who hurried. "What's up, Vic?"

The response was immediate and varius-blunt. "I need your help."

"Sure," Dan responded, automatically.  Even if Victus hadn't been able to help them with their problem, he'd done his best and they owed him for that.  They paused their conversation to let a small gaggle of elderly women totter past them in the hallway.

Victus looked strained. "Can we go somewhere quiet to talk?"

"Sure." Dan didn't bother asking what was wrong. He'd learned enough from his partner to know that Victus would tell him when he felt it appropriate to do so.

Walking to the nearest intersection, he awoke the directory panel with a gentle tap. "Where is the library, please?" Victus looked at him strangely but made no comment. The three-dimensional display showed him the map and a mellifluous voice suggested that the fastest way there was the elevator."Thank you," Dan said out of habit, hitching his towel over his shoulder and walking toward the elevator banks.

"You're welcome," the display responded, before sinking back to darkness.

"Most people don't bother with 'please' and 'thank you' when dealing with computers," Victus observed.

"Probably not," Dan agreed, "but it's always seemed easier to me to just stay in the habit of doing it."

Victus raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"Does it make me look weird?" Dan asked, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Not weird," Vic said, "just different." He smiled quietly. "Unique."

The elevator doors opened, admitting the two into a plush foyer that screamed 'tasteless opulence' at the top of its overstuffed lungs. "Huh," Victus said, looking around at the gilt wall sconces and ornate woodwork. "I never thought I'd miss the austerity of the abbey, but I seem to have reached that point." He turned to Dan. "This looks like the negin's bathroom."

"Speaking of whom," Dan said, "where is he now?"

"He's getting a lettuce wrap."

"It's a bit early for lunch, isn't it?" Dan observed.

"It's not a food, it's some sort of spa treatment," Victus said, looking perplexed before shaking his head to clear it.  "But that is not why I am here." He motioned Dan into a chair and settled into the one next to it. "You mentioned to me yesterday that one of your duties was contract negotiations."

"Do you want me to negotiate a raise for you?" Dan asked, jokingly.

"Not precisely." Victus sighed tiredly, in a way that made Dan abandon any future attempts at levity. "Lucas and I have a problem."

The varius shifted uneasily in his seat, then handed Dan the paperwork he was carrying. "You know he's indentured, but you may not know what that entails."

"He has to do whatever the negin says, right?" Dan guessed.

Vic shrugged. "In essence, yes, but I'm sure you realize that the details are far more complicated than that."

"The devil's in the details," Dan observed as he casually leafed through the pages of fine print.

"And in this case, the devil is Negin Mal." Victus shook his head somberly. "I apologize, Dan. I shouldn't be talking about my employer like that, but..." he sighed. "Right now I am angry and letting that influence me."

"Shall I assume that Mal wants..." Dan stopped himself, then chuckled without mirth at his absent-minded sapiens chatter. One of the first things Bo had taught him was how to communicate with a varius.  Rule number one was, 'Be Direct.' Rule number two was, 'Don't Assume.'  "My apologies," he continued, "I tend to fall back into old habits." He calmed himself and looked directly into Victus' tired eyes.  "What would you like me to do?"

Victus was thankful that Dan not only understood the concept of brevity but embraced its application as well. "Mal's champion pit fighter is dead and Lucas' contract obligates him to take Percy's place. I'm highly skilled as a Kenzine Protector but am less so as a contract lawyer."

He shot a withering glare at the sheer quantity of paper that Dan was leafing through. "I was hoping that you would be able to help me decipher some of this mess."

Dan sounded doubtful. "This isn't exactly something I'm good at," he admitted, "but I'll help however I can."  He looked up. "When is the fight?"

Victus sounded weary. "Twenty-eight hours from now."

Dan whistled through his teeth. "That's not much time." He turned back to the papers, putting them back in order. "The first thing I do when reviewing a contract at work is to get more time." He glanced up. "Any way to do that?"

"I doubt it," Victus said, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "This series of fights was planned out months in advance, if not years.  People from all over the Federation will be there, and if any of the combatants doesn't show up to fight it will cost them millions."

"What happens if Lucas simply doesn't show?" Dan asked. "Besides the money, I mean."

"The collar around his neck is more than a symbol of servitude," Vic answered. He paused for a moment, and from where he was sitting Dan could see the fur at the back of his neck rising in agitation. "It's explosive. If he's not where he belongs, Mal can literally blow his head off with the push of a button."

"Can you steal the remote?"  The look that comment garnered set him back on his heels. "I'm sorry, Victus, I forgot." Dan's voice went shaky when he realized what he'd implied. A Kenzine, a man who had devoted his life to honor and duty, would never stoop to theft. "Please, forgive me."

Victus inclined his head slightly, and Dan thought that his somewhat stilted words sounded like a mix of the formal varius mode and regular speech. "Of course." He looked up, and the expression on his face was somber.  "I know you're trying. And to be honest, that thought has crossed my mind."

Dan was relieved.  The last thing he wanted, for many reasons, was to have Victus angry at him.  He rephrased the question. "Is there any way to remove the remote from the equation? Perhaps by disabling it?"

Victus's answer was immediate.  He'd thought long and hard about what would be involved in setting Lucas free.  "I don't think so.  In addition to functioning as a detonator, the remote also acts as an inhibitor." He shifted his weight, wishing the chair had a cutout in the back for varius tails.  Wrapped around him as it was, his was starting to cramp. "Some of the more paranoid slaveholders, Mal among them, have controllers implanted in their bodies. If the remote is out of his possession and the collar travels too far away, the collar automatically explodes."

"So what happens if Mal loses the remote?"

"That would be... unfortunate, for any of the indentured servants who were too far away." Victus looked ill. "That's why collars aren't legal on any but the least civilized of worlds. Trust me Dan, there are very good reasons why indentured servants stay where they are instead of just walking off. As far as I can tell, the system is bulletproof."  He pointed at the papers Dan was still holding. "That's why I need to find a legal way to get him out of this."

Dan looked down at the mass of paperwork he was holding.  It looked crumpled, as if Victus had gone over it a dozen times already. "I can't promise anything," he said, "but I'll try."

Two hours later Dan was sitting by the pool, trying to untangle paperwork that had been specifically designed to be obtuse. Bo stuck his head out of the water and, pursing his lips, fountained a stream of liquid onto Dan's feet. "Can't you just have a real lawyer look at that?"

"That would make sense," Dan agreed, "which is why it's prohibited."

Bo scrunched his face up like he'd sucked a lemon. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.  Are you sure you got that right?"

"Yup," Dan waved page one at him. "Says so right here.  'Document may not be copied or transmitted in any form,' blah blah blah... here it is... ‘without the express written and notarized authority of all involved parties.’"  He stared over the papers, into Bo's perplexed eyes.  "In triplicate."

"Why the fuck does anyone write a contract like that?"

"I got warned about this sort of stuff in my contract law class," Dan explained.  "They do it on

contracts for semi-legal activity." He waved the sheaf of papers. "This way everyone in the room at the time the contract is signed is legally protected, but people on the outside get shut out.  And God forbid you buy the contract from someone." He tapped his lip with the end of his stylus. "It’s like buying a nightmare."

"So how did you get a copy?"

"Vic just brought it with him."

Feeling Bo's doubt, Dan shrugged. "Makes sense to me.  He's been trying to get Lucas out of this contract for months now."

Bo swam to the shallow end of the pool and climbed out.  After a quick trip through the drying cabinet he walked over to his husband.  "You're getting pink."

"I'm supposed to get pink," Dan said, distractedly. "I don't like being pasty white."

"But I like you pasty white," Bo said, utterly oblivious to the look Dan shot across his bow.

"For a man who's so enthralled by his own culture's beauty standards," Dan said, "you're amazingly clueless to others."  With a quiet sigh, he started packing his belongings.  "You ready for lunch?"

"I'm always ready for lunch." Bo's voice was gruff, but he watched patiently as Dan stood and shook the sheaf of papers, ridding them of stray water droplets before tucking the bundle into his tote bag.  "I thought you were supposed to be relaxing."

"There’s not a lot of time to waste with this," Dan explained. “The fight’s less than two days away”

"Let's try the buffet," Bo suggested. "I smell Indian food." He walked a step behind Dan so they wouldn't feel as crowded in the confines of the ship's corridors. "So what do you think you’re going to find in there?"

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted.  “Maybe something saying that he can’t be used for certain activities, or a time limit, or... “ he shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m shooting in the dark, here.”

"You don’t have to rescue every stray you come across, you know,” Bo said. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” He held the door to the dining hall open for Dan.

"He’s not a stray,” Dan protested, “he’s a man, and it’s not like he's got a bunch of options." Dan passed his hands under the sanitizer at the entrance to the dining hall. "I can’t let him go getting himself killed in a death match while I sit on my ass getting a tan, can I?"

Dan looked pointedly at Bo's hands, and waited while his mate grudgingly passed his own hands under the sanitizing beams.  "If anything happened to him I’d feel like a lousy little shit for not doing anything to help."

"There," Bo said, pointing to a small table next to a bank of windows. "Grab that one before someone else does."  

Dan put his book in one chair and his towel in the other before joining his mate in the serving line.  

"Thank you," he said, relieving Bo of the plate he was holding.

*mine*

"That wasn't for you," Bo said, indignantly.

Dan ignored him, centering his attention on one of the servers behind the buffet line. "Size three varius plate, please?"  The man disappeared into the back, returning a moment later with a plate that was sized more like a turkey platter.  Handing it to Bo, Dan returned his attention to the server, who mirrored his stare with a dull lack of enthusiasm. "We'll need silverware too," Dan reminded him.  "And a large glass.  With a straw."

Although too well trained to roll his eyes at a paying guest, the man certainly implied it with the set of his shoulders. "Thank you," Dan said with a too-polite smile, handing the glass to his mate.  

"We appreciate it."

"They pay these people to help you," he told Bo, skipping over a pan of dry-looking lasagna and some broiled fish that looked far too watery to be appetizing. He served himself some jasmine rice and smothered it with Chicken Korma.  A pair of deep-fried samosas made it onto his plate, and had another one in the tongs before guilt won out, encouraging him to choose the more responsible alternative to gluttony by putting it back.  "Anyone in here will get you a decently-sized plate if you just ask them."

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Bo replied, staring over Dan's shoulder at the bounty just out of reach. “I can make do.”

*hunger*

Bo loved eating at buffets, but tended to steer clear of those which hadn't been designed specifically to serve larger varii.  It was frustrating to see all this food laid out before him, but be unable to reach underneath the low-hanging sneeze guards to serve himself.   If he tried to dish his own food in a place like this, chances were good that he'd walk away from the buffet line with more food stuck to his fur than was on his plate.  When his stomach growled noisily, Bo conspicuously cleared his throat.  

Dan turned and stared at him for a heartbeat before shoving his plate into his mate's hands. "Be patient."

"I'm hungry," Bo said grouchily. "Watching you pick out the two most perfect dolmas out of a hundred in the pan is driving me crazy."

“You’re exaggerating.”  Dan had learned to handle oversized varius plates with some degree of finesse, but it still required concentration to keep from bumping them against something and dumping the contents on the floor.  Thankfully, he didn't need to keep turning back and forth to get Bo's opinion on what foods he wanted.  Dan fed the sights and smells through their link and got immediate feedback.  Salad and noodles were passed over in favor of what was left of a roast beef and, to Dan's surprise, the watery-looking fish.

it’s cod

I like cod

Dan shrugged and put half of the fish on Bo's plate, then filled what space remained with a large scoop of macaroni-and-cheese and a small spoon of steamed vegetables.

*aversion*

?do i have to have vegetables?

yes

you have to have vegetables

they make you big and strong

"I'm not a two-year-old," Bo grumped, halfheartedly.

*affection*

Dan exchanged Bo’s plate for his own, and on the way back to their table he stopped long enough to pick up another two samosas to replace the ones Bo had eaten off his plate when he thought Dan wasn’t watching.

those were filled with vegetables you know

Dan teased,

you just ate cauliflower

and you liked it

Bo licked pastry crumbs off his muzzle and had to admit that the little triangular puffs were awfully tasty.  “They would have been better with meat."  He returned to their previous conversation. “So you think you can find a loophole somewhere, huh?”

Dan sighed, “I don’t know, maybe.”  He put a forkful of the butter chicken in his mouth and sighed contentedly. “Oh, god, this chicken is amazing. You’ve got to try this.”

Bo reached over and, before Dan could stop him, used his ladle-sized spoon to shovel the remainder of the chicken dish into his mouth.  “I meant for you to get your own!” Dan complained, after clearing his mouth.

Bo looked sheepish. “Mmm...” he said, as he chewed. “Sawwee.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Dan said, chuckling in spite of his annoyance. There was a whole buffet full of food not five meters away from where they sat, and he was happy to share.

Bo saw Dan rooting around in his bag. “What are you looking for?”

“You just ate cauliflower,” Dan said, “I bought an extra bottle of Gassy Gone to take with us, but I can’t find it.”  He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.  “Whatever.  Anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad if I could just scan the stupid thing and run it through an analysis program, but it can’t be copied.”

“You don’t need a copier,” Bo suggested, “Just take a picture of it with your comm and convert it to a document.  Boom,” he said, expressively. “You’re done.”

“Not that easy, I’m afraid,” Dan said.  “It’s printed on security paper.”  He reached into his bag and handed Bo the first page of the contract. “Here, hold this up.”  He aimed the lens of his comm at the paper and snapped a picture. “Smile.”

Bo traded the sheet he was holding for the comm, and immediately saw what Dan was talking about.  None of the words that were printed on the sheet showed up on the comm’s display screen. In the picture, it looked like he was holding up a blank page. “Cool.”  

He motioned for Dan to hand him the page again, and he focused the imager on it from several different angles.  All of them looked perfectly normal until he took the picture, and all of them produced a similar lack of results. Bo was intrigued. By the time he’d licked his dessert bowl clean of the peach cobbler it had contained, he’d studied several pages, and come up with a half-dozen ways to produce an effect like this. He wondered which one the writers of this particular document had employed.

“What’s a...transfer of fiduciary responsibility?” Bo asked, watching enviously as Dan dug his spoon into a bowl that contained his own dessert - a warm slice of apple pie almost hidden underneath a baseball-sized scoop of vanilla ice cream.  Bo loved ice cream, but was somewhat less enthusiastic about the effect it had on his digestive tract.

“That sorta depends on the context,” Dan said, wincing from the pain of eating cold food too quickly.  

“Where did you see it?”

“Page six,” Bo responded, prompting Dan to raise an eyebrow over the glass of tepid water that warmed his throat. “I read it when you were getting your pie.”

“You can remember the strangest crap,” Dan muttered as he dug around in his bag for the page in question. “You didn’t put them back in order.”

“They weren’t in order to begin with,” Bo protested.  “You just stuffed them in there when we were at the pool.”

“Yeah, okay...” Dan leafed through the papers to find the one Bo was asking about. He didn’t even think to question whether his mate remembered the correct page.  He was happy to debate matters of opinion with the varius all day long, but when Bo remembered a fact, Dan didn't waste his time arguing. “Here,” he showed the paper to Bo. “Where is it?”

“Mmmm...” Bo droned, quickly scanning the page. “This legal shit just blends together after a while...There.” He pointed the tip of his butter knife at a spot about two-thirds down the page.

“Right there.”

Dan wiped off the smudge of hummus left by Bo’s knife and read carefully. “In this case,” he said, after a moment, ‘it’s talking about how outside contracts might affect whether or not ownership of “the asset,” he crooked his fingers in the air, “which is Lucas, can, under certain circumstances, be controlled by a third party.”

“In Standard, please?” Bo asked, feeling mildly confused.  Their bond was of little help in decoding things like this.

Dan thought he might have a better way to explain.  “In certain types of speeder race, they keep it fair by limiting the amount of money you can spend on your engine.   If you win, anyone who wants to can buy your engine for, say, three thousand credits.”

“That’s a ‘claimer’ race,” Bo said, sounding a little more interested, now.

“Yeah.  Well, that’s along the lines of what this is talking about.  If you want to compete in that sort of race, you have to sign away some of your property rights.  This just says that there might be some instances where Mal might be...” he trailed off for a moment when his own words became clear to him. “...might be forced to sell Lucas against his will.”

“Come on, “ Dan said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and tossing it on the table. “We’re looking at the wrong contract.”

***

“Here it is,” Dan said, his fingers making staccato taps on the keyboard.

Bo looked encouraged until the screen once again went blank.  “Maybe not.”

Dan cursed under his breath.  “I’m a big boy, I don’t need my content filtered.”

“I know,” Bo soothed.  “It’s all right.  We’ll get there.”

Bo was never that solicitous.  Dan realized he was pouring his frustration into their link, and Bo was suffering for it. “I’m sorry,” he said, making a conscious effort to calm himself.  “I’m just frustrated.”

“No kidding,” Bo said, giving his mate an understanding smile. “What about Julian?”

“Ooh!” Dan’s face lit up. “That’s the best idea you’ve had in the last ten minutes.”.  He logged off the public terminal and they walked back to their room, where they were unsurprised to see Julian sitting behind his desk.

“The entry form?” Julian looked perplexed.  “You mean, a ticket to get in?”

“No,” Dan corrected, “We want to know what it takes to enter someone in the fight.”

Julian lowered his voice. “Is this about...” he pointed his stylus at the negin’s door.

“I know it sounds weird,” Dan said, lowering his voice to match Julian’s, “but we’re trying to see if we can find a way to get him out of it.”

“Oh.” The concierge raised his eyebrow. “Well, good luck,” he said, turning to the task. ”I got the idea it really wasn’t his idea in the first place.”  After a few moments spent tapping at his keyboard Julian dialed his comm, listened for a moment, then held his hand over the microphone.  “If you would like to wait in your room, I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“We’ll wait.” Bo said, gruffly.

“Thank you, Julian,” Dan said, taking Bo’s arm and leading him toward their door, “we appreciate your help.”

that was not a suggestion

he asked if we would like to wait

i do not want to wait

trust me on this

Dan situated Bo in front of the vidscreen with a bag of his favorite freeze-dried liver snacks, where he entertained himself watching 2-D cartoons until their doorbell chimed.

“Success!” Julian announced, proudly handing Dan a thin bundle of printouts.

Dan stared at the document, not quite believing what he was holding.  “How did you get this?” he whispered.

Bo got off the couch and plodded toward them.  “What is it?”

Dan showed him the papers.  “It’s the negin’s entry form.”

Bo looked surprised.  “How did you get this?”

Julian glanced nervously behind him, then came into their room and shut the door behind him.  He no longer needed to whisper, but still he kept his voice low. “It turns out that this information is all a matter of public record.”

He indicated the papers Dan was holding. “I called a friend of mine at the chamber of commerce, and she told me that everything had to be registered with the gambling consortium.  At that point, it was easy to secure a copy.” He shrugged.  “It’s all online.”  With a raised eyebrow and a finger to his lips to indicate a desire for their silence, he returned to his desk.

Dan felt like cheering, but he restrained himself.  “Thank you so much,” he said to the man’s retreating back, before the door closed.

Bo hadn’t quite made it back to the couch before Dan turned off his cartoons.  “I wasn’t finished!”  

“We’ll watch them later, I promise,” Dan said, unclipping the thin sheaf of papers and spreading them out on the table.  “There’s...what, about...” he counted quickly, “...twenty pages here?  If we split the job in half we should be through pretty quickly.”

“Fine,” Bo grumbled.   He reminded himself that this was for Lucas, and pulled the first paper toward him.  “What am I looking for, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Dan said, “It might say something about reimbursement, or damages to the contestant, or replacement value, or something.  Just tell me if you see anything that looks odd.”

“It’s in legalese,” Bo complained, “It all looks odd.”  But he settled down and read through the papers as best he could.  

After a half-dozen false starts, Bo found something that looked promising. “Look at this,” he pointed with an extended claw to a section near the top of page sixteen.  “What does this mean?”

Dan gave it a quick glance, then dropped the other papers to concentrate on it more fully. “I think you may have something here, Boo.”  He continued reading, mumbling under his breath as he tried to comprehend what the contract was saying.  “It’s full of double-negatives and references to other documents, “ he said, sounding frustrated, “but I think this might be it.”  

He grabbed a stylus and began marking the salient points.  “Hold on,” he said, when Bo tried to question him. “Give me a minute.”

Bo went to the bathroom, and by the time he returned, Dan thought he had it figured out. “This is a lot like the claimer thing,” he explained as Bo settled himself back on the couch, “He can be purchased, but it’s a lot more detailed.”  

He used the stylus to point to the elements of the contract he was talking about.  “Your slave is assigned a value based on his purchase price and his years of service.” Dan pulled out Lucas’s contract. “The negin had to overpay to get him, but Lucas hasn’t even been with him for a year so at least his retail value hasn’t escalated.

“He wasn’t cheap,” Bo remembered seeing Lucas’s purchase price, and thinking that he’d rather have a house than a slave any day.

“The good news is, there’s a laundry list of deductions,” Dan said, hopefully.  “Including a deduction for the distance you had to travel to get to the venue, as well as a...” he checked again, to make sure he was right. “...a credit for how far the purchaser had to travel to get here!”  He looked at Bo significantly. “Mal’s going to shit little pink kittens when he learns that by bringing Victus along, he cut Lucas’ purchase price by a third.”