“As I recall, I was on top for a good half an hour.”
He shrugged noncommittally, and she leaned in for a kiss.
*
It was another hour before James actually made it into his kitchen, and another hour before he was fed. Jennifer kept distracting him.
Not that I’m complaining, he mused as he leaned against the open doorway, Jennifer pouting at him as she clutched her night-bag, her clothes in desperate need of pressing and folding – much like her hair, which had refused to be properly tamed.
“So…”
“Is this going to be an awkward silence thing?”
She laughed, and James thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. At least in a long time.
“Not at all,” she said, her voice melodious with a soprano quality – not that it meant much, in this day and age, anyone who could afford a halfway decent genetic profile would give their offspring the ability to sing; James himself was a proficient counter-tenor, but his music skills had always – like his law education – relied on the theoretical aspect.
“I was just going to ask when I could see you again.”
James cocked his head, his left hand running up his bare chest, finally making it to his hair, which he lazily swept back behind his ear. She said when, not if. James hadn’t dated since he was 19; usually his lovers were content for a casual encounter, like most people their age.
So was James, who was content to not be tied down by anyone, or anything, at this phase of his life. Wine, women and song, as the old adage went.
Except that now… now it was different. He found himself intrigued… and he wasn’t sure by what.
“Uh, sure,” he said, suddenly at a loss for enough words to form a sentence. “I guess.” She looked at him curiously. “I don’t even know who you are,” he elaborated, waving his hand flippantly. Exchanging names during a fling had almost gone the way of the telephone and the dodo.
“Oh, of course,” she said jubilantly, extending a hand, which he took delicately, thrown by the sudden reversal to ancient traditions. “Jennifer Carmichael.”
“As in Carmichael Cosmetics?” That was one of the largest cosmetics companies in the entire Commonwealth, worth a little over a trillion dollars – or, in other words, ten percent of the combined HB&S fortune. Being a part of that family certainly explained how she came to be in the nightclub last night.
Jennifer smiled. “Joanna Carmichael is my aunt. Her sister – my mother – is the head of their legal department.” She nodded. “And you’d be James Hunter, one of the many heirs to the HB&S fortune.”
James frowned. “Yes. How did…?”
“There aren’t that many identical twins rich enough to get into a place like L’Arc Bastion… that, and your place is amazingly posh.” She shrugged apologetically. “Simple deduction, really.”
James felt his cheeks blushing. His penthouse – located near the very top of Hyperion Tower near the centre of the Citadel – was a model of extravagant minimalism (many considered this a contradiction in terms, but there were also many – including James – that insisted that it was a valid concept). Patrick had presented the penthouse to James on his 21st birthday (Patrick furnished all of his children an elaborate bachelors’ pad once they reached that age), and James had chosen to remove most of the furniture and décor that his father had installed, replacing it with more vanilla motifs, as well as uninstalling some of the more expensive and esoteric technologies that he didn’t use or didn’t like.
He’d kept the food synthesizer, though – James had never been one for cooking, and, despite having a fully functional and equipped kitchen, the top-of-the-line model synthesizer was so good you couldn’t really tell the difference between real food and the synthesized stuff.
At least, in my opinion.
“You have a good eye.” He watched as she looked him up and down, no doubt making sure her initial assessment of him remained intact.
He seemed to, because she nodded and offered a teasing smile. “I like to think so.”
*
A strobing red alarm – with an accompanying buzzing from his cochlear implants – jolted Troy awake: 1430 hours. Shaking his head slightly as he opened his eyes, he cleared the alarm away, rolling onto his side: an unfamiliar wall greeted him, and as he looked up, he realised the ceiling was unfamiliar to him as well.
Warmth radiating from behind him told him that he wasn’t alone, though he was comforted to know that he was, indeed, in a bed. There had been occasions, over the years, where he hadn’t been so lucky, waking up on couches, chairs, and in one instance, a kitchen bench.
There was movement behind him.
“You awake?”
Troy nodded sluggishly, frowning. To say last night was a blur was something of an understatement. He remembered getting to L’Arc… Flashes of images, writhing flesh, squeals of ecstasy, possibly his own…
“Yeah,” he said groggily. “Who the hell are you?”
A mop of blonde hair – swiftly followed by a handsome, near-innocent face – crested from his side, a pair of crystal blue eyes staring into his soul.
Almost looks like an angel. Troy shook away more fatigue as he instructed his nano-system to dump more electrolytes into his system – after last night, they didn’t have much juice left in them, but it was enough to clear the fog from his head.
“I’m the guy you went home with last night.”
“Oh, right, I remember you now,” Troy murmured, images flashing through his mind. Images that made his hand reach instinctively onto his crotch. A name clicked into place. “Lewis, right?”
Chuckling, the hunk nodded as he wrapped an arm around Troy’s torso.
“You drank so much last night,” Lewis whispered, his nose nuzzling into the crook of Troy’s neck. “Both at the bar and when we got here, it’s no wonder you’re a little slow on the uptake.”
“I take it we’re at your place?”
Lewis nodded, smirking. “I live on the thirtieth floor of the Hyperion Tower.” He shrugged. “We walked here.” He smirked. “Well I walked, you kinda needed a little help. Just as well the club’s only two blocks away.”
“How much did I drink?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Lewis asked, playfully shoving him with one hand as his other joined Troy’s down below. “You had at least six or seven shots while you were with me at the club… then we had about the same when we got here… you don’t really know the meaning of the word enough, do you?”
Troy groaned, letting his head fall into the pillows as he ran his hands through his sweaty hair, letting out an excited squeal as Lewis’ hand started working magic. Even Troy’s constitution –augmented though it was – had its limits.
“I usually ignore the word. Usually it just gets in the way of me having a good time,” Troy said, laughing, as the most remarkably warm sensation overwhelmed his senses, accompanied by more fragmented memories flooding him; Troy could have used his virtual array to recall, with perfect clarity, the events of last night… but that would rob the moment of its spontaneity, of its fun… and of all the things sacred to Troy, fun was the most important. “By the way, you’re good…”
*
“Fucking hell, you look like shit.”
James stood to the side to let his brother in. Troy staggered over the threshold, his left arm tracing the wall beside him as a support.
“This is what someone who had a good time last night looks like, James,” Troy said, finally making it to a leather couch and plopping into it like a weighted sack. Still not quite sober, he buried his face in his hands as he draped his legs over the arm of the couch.
“I take it you got laid last night?”
“Very successfully.” Troy nodded vigorously, then groaned as his world spun.
“And that’s why I had to travel sixty floors down to drag your ass up here?” Indeed, the hunk Troy had ended up hooking up with lived halfway down the same tower that James did.
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“Absolutely. I couldn’t make it home without a pit-stop here.”
James rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen, reaching into his fridge and pulling out a water bottle. “Here, catch,” he said, hurling the bottle at his brother, who lazily caught it. James pulled another bottle out for himself and returned to a seat near Troy. The two brothers sat in silence as they hydrated themselves – Troy a sweaty, sad looking mess, James freshly showered and refreshed.
“Are you right to get home?” James asked – the last thing he wanted to do right now was take his brother home; Troy lived on the other side of the bay, in a sprawling mansion in the suburbs.
“Yeah,” Troy said, closing his eyes and doing his best to adopt a serene expression. “I think I need a nap first, though… Big night.”
“And you’re not going to ask about my night?”
It took a moment, but Troy finally looked at him, his right eye peering at James with deep suspicion. “You did not.” He continued to stare at an impassive James, who offered no hint one way or the other. “You did… you did!” He let out some sort of squeal of delight – at least James thought it was delight – and suddenly Troy was bubblier, his hangover completely ignored. “What was his name?”
“Her name.”
Troy winced apologetically, blanching. “Shame, they usually have so much more to offer, don’t they?”
James barked a laugh. “I am aware of that little fact.”
“Oh, like you’d know,” Troy said scornfully, before frowning.
“You remember Chris Henley, from school?” James chided, and Troy nodded cautiously, his brow furrowing in thought. “That Lake Ayers camping trip? Chris and I spent more time enjoying nature in our tent than we did outside of it.”
“Is that what you were doing in there?” Troy asked scandalously, as if it was some great revelation – but considering how much time he’d spent in his tent, it wouldn’t have surprised James if it was. After all, the camping trip had been nothing more than a pretext for sixty newly-graduated kids to fling off their inhibitions and celebrate their new-found liberation.
James waved the comment away, smiling softly. “Jennifer is from the Carmichael family,” he continued, putting the conversation back on the rails, and went on to describe the night he had – often offering more information, at Troy’s behest, than he would otherwise. “She wants to see me again.”
“What the fuck for?”
“Why do you think, genius?” James snapped, slapping Troy’s arm playfully. The concept of second dates was relatively alien to Troy… in fact, the concept of dating was alien to Troy, who didn’t have a romantic bone in his body these days.
Troy smiled impishly. “Has anyone ever told you how strange you are, Jim?”
Chapter Two
“You’re up rather early.”
“Got things to do before court today,” James Hunter said as he meandered out of his walk-in wardrobe, buttoning up his shirt lazily. He wasn’t due at the courthouse until 1030, which meant he didn’t really have to be up until about 0900 – and yet, here he was, at 0800, gearing up. It was a true novelty – James was, by nature, not a morning person. “Why, is there something else I could be doing?”
“Maybe,” Jennifer said playfully as she rolled onto her side, propping her head up with a hand. Despite the dim light, James could see that the blankets on the bed weren’t covering anything above the navel. “How urgent is it?”
James smirked. “As tempting as what you’re offering is, I’m afraid it really can’t wait.” He turned and strode out of the bedroom, his bare feet pattering over the tiled floors as he made his way to the kitchen – despite the tiles being kept at a constant room temperature, he still felt a chill go up his spine.
Probably nerves. Today was a big day, after all. Interesting – every day I go to court is a big day. The work he did, after all, was very important, and necessitated a certain amount of vigilance. As well as competence.
“Are you going to join me for breakfast, Jen?” he called out to her as he stopped in the kitchen, wondering if she’d follow behind him.
Sure enough, there was the sound of prancing feet behind him, and her arms appeared around his middle, wrapping around him tightly. “Can you at least tell me what it is?”
“Nope,” James said as he started his coffee-maker, laughing as her hand groped around below his waist. He smacked her hand away playfully. “That’s not going to work, by the way.”
“Damn it,” Jennifer grunted, releasing him and letting out a hiss of vexation. “Since when did you become immune to my charms?”
“I wasn’t aware you had any.” James smiled ingratiatingly, turning around to face her as he gave her a mock salute with his coffee mug as she scowled grumpily at him. He leaned against the kitchen bench, noticing that the sapphire robe she’d donned was barely covering her modesty – the slightest tug on the waist cord would unravel the whole thing. “It’s important. You’ll find out soon, I promise.”
Her eyes twinkled, her interest piqued. “Is it for me?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He paused as he sipped his coffee, ignoring the pouting expression Jennifer was giving him. Despite only just having woken up, she looked ravishing: her dark hair flowed past her shoulders, and had a silky sheen to it even though she hadn’t brushed it, and her eyes glinted in the bright kitchen light.
It was almost enough to distract him from what he wanted to do, what he wanted to say.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking…”
“About what?”
“Well, we’ve been together for a while now, right?” Jennifer nodded, ignoring the invitation to make a sarcastic remark about his powers of observation. Four years, three months, and ten days – he didn’t even need his VA to assist him to work it out. “Well, I was thinking you might like to, maybe, move in?”
They’d discussed living together before, but James had never quite felt ready for that stage… until he realized that, if he wasn’t ready now, after nearly four years together, then he probably wasn’t ever going to be. He was, after all, the only one in his social circle in a long-term relationship who wasn’t officially living with his partner – a fact quite often mocked, much to his chagrin.
It was time, he’d decided, to force the issue, and find out whether he was ready or not.
“That sounds like a domestic enquiry, James.”
“It could very well be,” he said, smiling. “But I think it’s beyond time, and I’m tired of sharing this house with Hector.”
She laughed loudly, and launched herself at him, the jolt of their bodies colliding making him drop his mug – the cup didn’t break, but the hot, black liquid spilt all over the floor. He didn’t care – their lips met as their arms enfolded each other.
“It’s outrageous you’ve made me wait this long,” Jennifer said when she came up for air, her voice, barely above a whisper, caressing his neck.
“Outrageous, eh?” He said, smirking as his hands traced around the back of her waist.
“Definitely.” She leaned in seductively. “Very outrageous.”With a sudden flurry, she jerked away from him and brandished a small container lined, with an emerald felt material, on the tips of her fingers. “What’s this?”
“Nothing,” James said evasively, almost panicking, his hands snaking out to take it from her. But she was too quick, and his heartrate doubled in panic as she withheld it from him. “What were you doing in my underwear drawer?”
In hindsight, it was probably a stupid place to hide an engagement ring, but he had really nowhere else in his apartment that was private enough – Jennifer had access to just about everything in here, and she had her own set of drawers for her stuff, and so, had no reason to go into his things.
“I heard something heavy bumping around when you got up this morning…”
“And you just couldn’t help yourself and went snooping?”
Jennifer smiled dazzlingly, radiating excitement and e
uphoria as she bounced on step like a child getting a puppy. “Pretty much.”
James sighed in defeat. “I guess it’s a domestic enquiry.”
*
“It appears to be some sort of probe.”
Lok’Nar, Second Captain and master of the Secret Charity, looked at the schematics of the disassembled contraption in their cargo bay with interest. It had been pure chance that they’d come across this alien device – the Secret Charity had only dropped to sublight speeds in this vicinity to make a course correction.
“Any idea where it’s from?” he asked, looking at, and up, at his assembled officers – Lok’Nar was notorious for being one of the shortest members of the officer corps, and that fact was honed in every day about Charity, as his officers were some of the biggest, at least in this battle fleet.
“We’re backtracking its course now, sir,” his tactical officer reported – even for a member of the Cha tribe, Crey’Lor was a magnificent specimen of physical prowess. He was easily the largest soldier on the Secret Charity, and one of the largest Lok’Nar had seen in the Hegemony. Unfortunately, coming from the Lowlands on N’xiir, he’d never advance much beyond his current station. “We have an 83 percent probability of it originating from this star cluster.”
One of the auxiliary display screens at his station blinked to life, with their current position blinking red on the left, and a faint yellow trail leading all the way to the opposite edge of the screen. “We estimate it’s been in transit for the last two cycles; it does possess a small, inferior lightspeed drive, of a type we’re not familiar with. It is still operational, and we estimate its power reserves will let it operate for another two, possibly even three, cycles before it becomes derelict.”
“How inferior are we talking?”
“The Secret Charity is at least three times faster, My Lord, and its sensor systems don’t appear to be as capable as ours, either. If it has any weapons, they’re too primitive to register on our instruments.”
Lok’Nar considered – it would take the Secret Charity nearly two weeks to traverse that distance, and significantly longer to survey the entire cluster, which comprised hundreds of star systems and other points of interest.
A Call to Arms Page 2