by Tygati
"Among our people, Zorevan is what is known as a Shape-Master, the greatest we have known in untold generations. Had he not declared himself to be no longer of the people, he would hold rank equal to my own." Promise smiled crookedly. "Although there are still many who hold him in very high regard."
Jeremey frowned. "But why did he—?"
Promise shook his head. "It is complicated. You will have to ask him yourself, some day, but not now. It upsets him still."
Jeremey nodded and that was the end of that conversation, although it lingered in the back of Jeremey's mind for the rest of the day, coming to the forefront every time he crossed paths with Zorevan. What could possibly make someone choose to be an outcast from his own people? Jeremey didn't always get along with his people, but he couldn't imagine leaving them completely.
And what about Promise? He was his people's second-heir, or whatever it was called. If Zorevan was an outcast, why did he and Promise seem to get along so well?
The question wouldn't leave him alone, so the next day while he and Promise were out exploring the city, he brought it up again.
"If you're the second-prince-thing of your people, and Zorevan is an outcast, then why do you two seem like you're friends?"
Promise blinked, then laughed, the Rylon sunlight sparkling on his scales in a manner that briefly distracted Jeremey from his own question.
"Because I happen to believe that he is right," Promise answered, amusement coloring his words. "We concur on a great many topics, many of which I have argued with my father in the past, but as I am only Second-Heir and Drosin agrees with Father, nothing has ever come of it."
"Oh." Jeremey mulled that over.
Promise smiled. "You will find that we dragons are not as unified as your people believe. No one will challenge Sangkhara, especially not while Bejalii supports him, but there is always talk."
Jeremey grimaced. "Sounds complicated."
"Very complicated," Promise agreed, "but it is not something you need worry about. Zorevan and I are content with the choices we have made."
Jeremey nearly tripped. "Wait, you? Are you in trouble too?"
Promise shook his head. "Not as such, but as I said, it is complicated. Many believe that an Heir, even a mere Second-Heir, should not have made the Bargain."
"So why did you?" Jeremey asked curiously.
Promise's smile did strange things to Jeremey's stomach. "There was fire in your heart and in your eyes. I had never seen anyone burn so brightly before. I wanted to see the course it took for myself."
Jeremey had absolutely no idea what to say to that. "Oh." He was fairly certain he was blushing.
Promise grinned. "And you have never made me regret that decision, he-who-does-not-know-when-to-back-down."
Now Jeremey had to snort and roll his eyes. "I know when to back down. I just think that some things are more important."
"True," Promise admitted. "You have yet to—"
He broke off, frowning, his attention caught by a handful of individuals watching them from across the street. Jeremey abruptly realized that he had no idea where they wandered to while they were talking as the skyline did not look at all familiar.
"What—?"
"Trouble," Promise answered before the question was fully asked.
The four individuals that Promise had been watching abruptly turned and crossed to their side of the street, forming a loose semicircle around the two of them with a wall taking up the flat side.
"Hey, nice chronos," one of the men, likely a few years older than Jeremey, observed.
"Why don't you be smart and hand them over?" a second enjoined in a tone that left no doubt that it was not a request.
Jeremey glanced at the wristbands that they'd been given to allow them to pass through security and be located in case they got lost. They didn't look particularly special to him, but that didn't mean that the military people wouldn't be upset if they were to be appropriated without permission.
"I don't think we can do that," Jeremey replied, subtly shifting position so that he and Promise both had enough room to maneuver if they had to.
"You hear that, Andy?" a third man sneered. "Not too smart, is he?"
Two of the men lifted a corner of their jackets to reveal—weapons, Jeremey could only presume, though not any that he was familiar with.
Promise bared his teeth. "You should leave, now."
The second man snorted. "Not fucking likely."
That appeared to be the cue for everyone to move at once. The street toughs had numbers on their side, but Jeremey and Promise were well used to fighting as a team while these four were clearly not. That teamwork allowed them to gain the upper hand until of their assailants pointed something at Jeremey, and the next thing he knew he was impacting the stone wall and trying not to black out.
Dimly, as though from a distance, he could hear Promise bellow in fury. He opened his eyes to see the group of thugs, now armed, trying to subdue Promise by sheer force.
"Oh no you don't," Jeremey muttered beneath his breath, drawing his blaster and thumbing it down to its lowest setting before taking aim.
One.
Two of the three remaining thugs startled, looking around to see where the shot had come from.
Two.
One of them swore.
Three.
Promise flung himself out of the way, giving Jeremey a clear shot of the last of the men.
Four.
Less than two breaths later Promise was at his side, carefully helping him up. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Jeremey managed, which was all he had time for as two sets of heavy footfalls came running up to them.
"What do you think you're doing?" an angry voice demanded. "Firing a blast weapon in the middle of the city!"
Promise growled, but subsided when Jeremey's grip on his arm tightened.
"Sorry, uh, sir," Jeremey said haltingly, guessing from the uniforms that the two new arrivals were most likely some kind of peacekeepers. "Those guys attacked us and tried to hurt my friend."
The second peacekeeper shook his head. "That's no reason to go firing a blaster around. What if you'd missed and hurt someone?"
For a moment Jeremey could only stare, then he scoffed. "At that distance? My Aunt Sue couldn't even miss at that distance and she's awful."
Although the second officer still looked skeptical, the first fought a losing battle not to smile. "Yeah? All right, kid, what kind of distance would we be looking at before you'd think twice about firing?"
Jeremey looked around at the close city confines, then up at the spiraling towers overhead. He shrugged. "Moving targets? Probably that orange building down there. Stationary, I could hit that spiky-thing sticking out of that tower no problem." He pointed to the architectural feature in question.
The first officer squinted. The second whistled. "You either got an ego the size of Jellian Four, or you're the best shot I've ever met."
"He's a waggletongue, Wilbur," the first officer said derisively. "No one can make that kind of shot."
Stung, Jeremey lifted his blaster again and sighted the spike. He fired before either peacekeeper could do more than begin a startled oath, silence falling as the energy from his blaster struck the spike and crackled outward before dissipating.
The officer identified as Wilbur shook his head slowly. "Well, I'll be damned."
His partner stared up at the spike, jaw hanging slightly open.
Wilbur smirked. "I think he just proved you wrong, Jake."
Jake scowled at his partner, but any further argument was cut short by the arrival of a vehicle containing Charlie, Zorevan, and Corporal Hewins.
"Is there a problem, officers?" Corporal Hewins asked, getting out of the vehicle along with Charlie while Zorevan remained where he was.
"He one of yours?" Officer Jake demanded, pointing at Jeremey.
"That young man is under the direct command of General Siri so, yes, you could say he's one of mine," Corporal
Hewins replied blandly.
Officer Jake blanched and swore.
"Well, that explains the shooting skills," Officer Wilbur said dryly. "Never seen anything like it."
"And you still haven't," Corporal Hewins said pointedly.
Officer Wilbur grinned. "Nope. I haven't seen shit. Jake and me, we're just quietly patrolling when these four bangers came over and turned themselves in. Ain't that right, Jake?"
Scowling fiercely, Jake stormed off toward the downed would-be thieves. Wilbur tipped his hat to Jeremey and cheerfully sauntered after him.
Corporal Hewins smiled grimly and climbed back into the vehicle. "Smart man."
Charlie just shook his head. "You can't stay out of trouble no matter where you are, can you, Jasper?"
Jeremey scratched at his head underneath his hat. "Well, ah…"
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Rhetorical question. Get in, both of you. General wants to see us. Sounds like it's time to go."
TWELVE
"Our one advantage is that the Vek would never expect us to attempt something so clearly suicidal," General Sini announced dryly.
They were arranged in what appeared to be a cargo bay like the one on the Lucifaria, only this one was considerably larger and held a number of small spacecraft. In addition to General Sini and Corporal Hewins, there were twelve other persons in various states of dress ranging from full uniform to what looked like something that should be worn for swimming in a pool. Half of them appeared to be human. The other half were definitely not.
"Now, given that we will retain the element of surprise for only two targets, it makes sense to aim for the very top and cause as much damage as we can on the way out. With that in mind, we have set up two strike teams under the command of Captain Derring." General Sini inclined her head toward a short, dark-haired woman who nodded back.
"Captain, your mission is to eliminate the Vek emperor on his flagship and the warlord overseeing their home planet."
There were a few murmurs and one startled oath at General Sini's announcement, but, unlike with the Council, the soldiers hushed themselves a moment later.
General Sini nodded gravely. "I see you understand what we are up against. You are all the best in my command and have worked well with one another before. I need every bit of that skill now to get our two secret weapons to where they will do the most damage. Can I count on you to get the job done?"
Almost as one, the casually arranged soldiers stood ramrod straight and a resounding bellow of "Hooah!" filled the air.
General Sini smiled in satisfaction. "I thought so." She turned toward Captain Derring. "Captain, you have your orders. Now go blow something up."
Captain Derring arched a brow, the very corners of her lips twitching upward. "Yes, sir."
As General Sini left the cargo bay with Corporal Hewins a step behind, Captain Derring turned toward her team. "You heard the general. We only get one crack at this, so let's make it count."
"Sir, yes, sir!" came the enthusiastic response.
Captain Derring looked over at where Jeremey, Charlie, and the dragons were sitting with half a smile. "One emperor on a flagship, one warlord on a planet. Who wants what?" she asked.
Promise and Zorevan glanced at one another. Promise inclined his head slightly. Zorevan smirked.
"We've got His Royal Mucky-Muck," Zorevan announced, sounding positively gleeful.
Promise laughed softly. "And we will see about this warlord, if you can get us there, Captain."
Captain Derring's smile turned into a full blown smirk. "Watch me." She turned back toward her own people, looking them over one at a time, then started pointing.
"Sergeant Major Dallas, you'll take Vermillion, Madsen, Sawyer, Konol'ya, and Miron Lyu and go after the emperor. Allison, Longley, Airi, Dheran, Binh-Duc-Tu, you're with me. It's time to take the fight to the Vek."
This time, the resulting noise was deafening. Jeremey clapped his hands over his ears. Captain Derring just grinned.
"All right, you candy-asses," she bellowed over the ruckus, "I want you packed and on these ships in ten minutes, you hear me?"
"Sir!"
There was a mad scramble for the doors and then a kind of silence. Captain Derring glanced over as Jeremey finally uncovered his ears.
"You folks have anything you need to pack?" she asked.
Promise and Zorevan shook their heads. Charlie held up his pack. "Didn't bring much with us, ma'am."
Captain Derring grimaced. "Let's leave off the formality, shall we? It's Captain or Sam. Rolls off the tongue better when you're running for your life and hollering at the top of your lungs."
Jeremey couldn't stifle a giggle. Captain Derring winked at him before her expression once more turned serious.
"Anything else I need to know before we go try to get ourselves killed in the most dramatic manner possible?"
From the way Promise was smiling, it seemed as though Jeremey wasn't the only one fighting laughter. "Not that I can think of, ah, Sam."
Sam smiled. "I hope you're right. I hate surprises." She turned and pointed toward one of the nearby ships. "That's us, on the Pele. You two—" She pointed at Zorevan. "You've got the Sekhmet. I'd highly recommend getting in there and picking out your bunks before that pack of wild dogs gets back."
Zorevan and Charlie exchanged a look. Zorevan immediately headed for the Sekhmet.
Charlie lingered a moment longer. "Good luck, Jasper."
All of a sudden the knowledge that so many things could go wrong rushed through Jeremey like a torrent. He flung himself at a startled Charlie, hugging him tightly.
"Take care of yourself," Jeremey whispered fiercely. "And Zorevan too."
Powerful arms encircled him, hugging back just as tight. "Always do."
Holding on for a few moments longer, Jeremey finally made himself let go and looked up at Charlie Colcord, eyes hot with unshed tears.
"That goes for you too, y'know," Charlie said, smiling, and flicked the brim of Jeremey's hat up. "Chin up. If anybody's got something to fear, it's those Vek. I know damn well what kind of trouble Jeremey Jasper can get himself up to if he feels like it."
Jeremey blinked several times, vision clearing, then he found himself laughing. As always, Charlie was right.
Charlie winked. "Give 'em hell," he said, then went to where Zorevan was waiting near the base of the Sekhmet. Together, the two of them went inside.
To her credit, Sam didn't say a word about Jeremey's brief show of emotion. Instead, she leaned over and stage-whispered, "If I were you, I'd pick the last bunk on the starboard side. Less engine vibration."
Jeremey couldn't help but grin. "Thanks."
Promise gave him a quizzical look and Jeremey nodded in response. He was ready. Together, he and Promise climbed aboard the Pele. The sooner they got out there and kicked some Vek ass, the sooner they could all go home.
THIRTEEN
Despite the Pele's engines being vastly superior to those of the Lucifaria, it was still a twelve-day journey from Rylon to the Vek homeworld. Given how much smaller the Pele was and the complete lack of a rec area, Jeremey was convinced that it was going to be an incredibly boring twelve days.
He was so very glad to be proven wrong.
Someone had apparently told Captain Derring—Sam—about his skill with a blaster. She cornered him after breakfast on the second day out and casually asked what he would do if he didn't have his blaster or room to use it. Jeremey showed her his shock-lasso, but she wasn't impressed.
"Takes too much room to maneuver."
So then what, she demanded, would he do if he had to fight in close confines, such as inside a ship?
Jeremey was forced to admit that he didn't know.
For the next eight days, one or another—or more than one—of the soldiers would ambush him under the guise of teaching him how to fight without his weapons. Promise, whom he'd been certain would come to his aid, simply stood back and watched, occasionally offering tips that might have
been useful had they arrived before Jeremey had been knocked flat on his ass.
It was annoying and humiliating, and it wasn't doing anything other than giving him bruises in strange places, as he frequently complained to Promise.
"Are you certain of that?" Promise wanted to know.
Jeremey hadn't understood what Promise meant until the next day, when Promise ambushed him. The difference was that Jeremey was used to fighting with Promise, albeit in a slightly different shape. The tail-swipes, the lunges, the jabbing claws, those were familiar. What wasn't familiar was the fact that, for once, he was able to dodge and parry without getting knocked flat.
Mostly.
"I think my bruises have bruises," Jeremey complained, safely back in the bunk he shared with Promise and away from anywhere the Galactic Federation soldiers might hear and add mortal humiliation to his litany of injuries.
Promise rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed with Jeremey's whining. "A pack of lycodo do not phase you, but a little bit of exercise does?"
Jeremey stuck his tongue out, totally uncaring of how childish it was. "I can shoot the lycodo. And they don't leave nearly so many bruises."
Promise snorted. A moment later, a slow smirk spread across his face. "Would you like me to kiss them better for you?"
Jeremey froze, his cheeks doing a slow burn at the implication. He swallowed, sucking up every measure of courage he'd ever possessed. "Maybe?" he managed to squeak out.
The tip of Promise's tail, which had been idly flicking back and forth against the bunk, stilled. The smirk evaporated instantly, leaving behind a kind of cautious hope. "Maybe?" he repeated, sliding down off of his bunk and approaching Jeremey slowly.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jeremey held out one arm, the skin marred by a blotchy, irregular bruise from where he'd collided with a support strut. He held his breath while Promise slowly reached out and cupped the arm with one hand, meeting Jeremey's eyes, then slowly bent his head to press warm lips to the injury.
He'd expected it to hurt, being a bruise, but Promise's touch was so gentle that it was little more than a faint, tickling caress. Jeremey watched as Promise moved to the next bruise, then the next, giving each one a painstakingly gentle kiss. When his progress became hampered by Jeremey's shirt, he raised his head and Jeremey experienced a dizzying moment of now or never.