The elder Dramok addressed Wynhod. “You didn’t tell me you two know each other.”
Wynhod shrugged, his gaze only releasing Gelan to offer a respectful bow to Utta. “You didn’t mention his clan parentage or where he hailed from. Gelan is a rather common name. I didn’t assume it was someone I’d worked with before.”
Gelan had to restrain a snort. Wynhod knew where the Dramok had transferred to and had no doubt guessed who he was being partnered with. The Nobek had just wanted to see the shock on Gelan’s face.
Besides, they had done a lot more than work together once upon a time, something Utta didn’t need to know about. Gelan had no doubt the head investigator would think twice about making former lovers working partners.
Damn, Wynhod looked good. He seemed bigger and stronger in his red-trimmed armored gray formsuit than he had the last time Gelan saw him. The Nobek stood a few inches taller and he had at least 25 pounds on Gelan, who was no lightweight. Wynhod’s sleeveless formsuit, perfect for the summer months that were now upon them, showed off his broad shoulders and swelling biceps to advantage. Gelan thought about all the times those arms had clutched around him and swallowed. He wondered if Wynhod had found a clan.
Having to concentrate to keep his tone steady, Gelan asked, “What has it been, six years?”
“Seven.” That almost feral smile reappeared on Wynhod’s face. That smile said he remembered everything, not just how many years had elapsed.
Utta interrupted their reunion with business. “Enforcer Wynhod has already been briefed on the case, but of course he’ll want to hear your take on it, Gelan. You’re hereby off leave.”
Gelan didn’t know what made him happier: being free to pursue the Delir case or seeing his former lover in the flesh once more. Utta had partnered them, no less.
He bowed deeper than usual to Utta. “Thank you, Head Investigator.” Trying not to sound too eager, he asked Wynhod, “Shall we discuss this over breakfast?”
“Since I’ve only had one meal so far this morning, absolutely,” Wynhod said, his voice that pleasing rumble Gelan remembered all too well.
Gelan chuckled, remembering how he used to tease the Nobek that nothing standing still was safe from Wynhod’s stomach. Obviously, his prodigious appetite had not changed.
They left Utta’s office, Gelan suddenly nervous and excited. He couldn’t wait to get Wynhod alone and find out how he’s ended up in this territory. His mood was even good in the wake of the Nobek’s appearance. The fury he’d fallen into after Amik’s death had finally lessened to a need to find and incarcerate rather than mindlessly destroy.
* * * *
The eating establishment Gelan took Wynhod to had a nice balcony cut into the side of the mountain it was housed in. It overlooked the same valley his apartment did, though the restaurant resided several levels higher. With summer, the peaks were densely forested, offering a silvery-lavender carpet to the scenery. It was still early enough in the day that the heat hadn’t yet become a factor in enjoying the outdoors.
The balcony had been hewn right from the mountain’s rock itself and polished to a high sheen. It wasn’t heavily populated right now, the workday having begun for most. Gelan and Wynhod had the corner area right next to the railing all to themselves.
Gelan tried to concentrate on the menu vid in front of him. He suddenly felt awkward with Wynhod. Seven years had passed without communication despite the fact they’d been inseparable when he lived in the Northwest Mountain Territory. They’d cut off the relationship when he transferred, deciding the distance made it too troublesome to keep up. It had been a clean, amicable breakup. Still, Gelan had missed his former lover, the man he’d once thought he might clan. He hadn’t dwelled on Wynhod too much, certainly not enough to make his life miserable. Yet, the absence had been there all the time, kind of like a missing tooth that you got used to not having anymore.
Now Wynhod reappeared in his life. The man sat cross-legged on a thick cushion across the low table from him, bigger than life. Now his partner, no less.
Gelan forced himself to choose food, not sure he really wanted the vina meat with stemmed sprouts on fresh-baked bread. The dish simply fell under where his finger poked. Wynhod chose the same and finalized the order. The menu winked out.
They were left with nothing to do but eye each other uncomfortably. Seven years. Gelan couldn’t get past the thought now that the initial excitement of seeing Wynhod had passed. What did one say to a former lover after that stretch of time?
The Nobek tried a smile that looked nearly painful. “So. Other than the obvious issue of your partner’s death, how are you?”
“Good.”
After that single word, Gelan’s verbal skills abandoned him. Ancestors, what was he supposed to say to this man? Ask after Wynhod’s parents? Question the Nobek about the work he’d done after Gelan had left? Talk about his hobby of mountain climbing? Seven years seemed like a lot of ground to cover, more like a stretch of eons.
Gelan suddenly decided not to do that awkward dance. It wasn’t his style, and it had never been Wynhod’s either. Neither of them had ever been about finesse.
Baldly he asked, “Are you clanned?”
Wynhod looked relieved by the abrupt honest inquiry. “No. You?”
“No.” He gave the Nobek a grin that showed his appreciation, both past and present. “I’m surprised no one grabbed you up.”
Wynhod grinned back. “They tried. They weren’t you.”
Gelan started. He believed in brutal openness, but he hadn’t expected Wynhod to say something like that.
His new partner shrugged. “It’s true.” Then he looked Gelan over with frank evaluation. “You look better than ever, but who knows? Maybe in the years that have passed, I built you up to more than what you actually were.”
Gelan nodded his agreement. “We were very young. I suppose I idealized our relationship as well, because no other Nobek ever came close.”
The Dramok felt good to know they were on the same page. But then, they always had been. Gelan tried to push aside the ease of falling back into the old patterns, the idea that he knew what Wynhod was thinking just by the other man’s expression. It had been seven years. Surely it couldn’t be the same as it was before.
Wynhod tried to scuttle that theory by speaking almost exactly what had been in Gelan’s head. “It will be interesting to see if it’s anything like what we remember. Of course, time changes men. It could be we’ll end up despising one another.”
Gelan snickered and shook his long, cornrow braids back. “I hope not, since you’re my enforcer.” That gave him a less uncomfortable dialogue to pursue. “What’s your kill rate?”
“Ninety-seven percent.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, not boastful at all. Gelan whistled, giving him his due nonetheless. “Damn. Why aren’t you a sniper?”
“I’ve thought about it. The trouble with that assignment is the killing is a little too clean. I still like getting in people’s faces, giving them a chance to shoot back.”
Gelan laughed. Some things you couldn’t expect to change, especially when it came to a Nobek. Wynhod had always appreciated a good fight and odds to overcome.
Their food arrived via a hover cart that wove its way through the tables. They grabbed their plates and cups of curdled ronka milk. Gelan was amused to see Wynhod still put his full concentration on eating, not showing interest in anything else until his plate and drink were almost empty. He didn’t come up for air until then.
Wynhod gave him a considering look, one that in the old days would have meant his next comments were going to lead up to something he wanted. Gelan cocked an eyebrow at him and waited.
The Nobek’s question sounded innocent enough. “Do you still hunt?”
Gelan nodded. “I went to Sarkoz last year and caught the third biggest ongribirt on record. They found someone’s leg in the thing’s gut and the rest of him in its nest. It turned out it had grabbed a villager the night b
efore.”
Wynhod gave him a snide grin. “Only the third largest?”
Gelan made a face at him. “It was an off day.”
“I wouldn’t mind a hunt. You’ll have to tell me where the good places are.”
It was on the tip of the Dramok’s tongue to offer to take him hunting. Instead, he switched topics. “No doubt you still mountain climb. Is that why you came here? I think the peaks of this territory compares pretty well with our old one.”
“You didn’t think I transferred here just to be near you, did you?”
The challenge had been made, Wynhod knowing full well Gelan would meet it head on. Gelan decided not to surprise him. “Did you?” He sighed and met his former lover’s eyes. “Wynhod, we haven’t spoken since I left seven years ago. Why would I think you came here for me?”
The Nobek considered him for a few seconds before answering. “Neither of us is a sentimentalist. Trying to maintain a relationship over long distances wasn’t going to happen.”
“Which is why we agreed we wouldn’t try.”
Wynhod shrugged. “I have missed you though. Like I said, no other Dramok compared.”
Gelan nodded. He had missed Wynhod too. Even with a nice selection of unclanned Nobeks to choose from, he hadn’t ever thought of clanning any of them for a single moment.
Wynhod gave him a roguish look. “That being said, I can’t flatter you by saying you were the reason I pushed to get here. I’ve been following the Delir case for the last year. I wanted a piece of that action and put in for the transfer several months ago.”
Gelan snorted. “My ego shot down in flames. Well, at least Delir has done one good thing, bringing you here.”
Wynhod sobered. “Seeing you again is a nice side effect. I am sorry it took your partner’s death to get me here.”
Just like that, Gelan’s good mood evaporated. He stared at the dregs of milk left in his cup. “Amik was an excellent enforcer. He took down three of the bastards before they got him.”
Gelan didn’t go into detail. Knowing Wynhod, his new partner had already read all the reports about the attack that had killed Amik. Gelan had been pinned down by the explosive percussion blaster shots while the Nobek had been caught out in the open. Even with half a dozen gang members firing on him, Amik had never flinched. At least he hadn’t until an extremely unlucky blast blew through his head where an armored formsuit didn’t protect.
Thinking of that day made Gelan mad all over again. He wanted to find the leaders of the gang that had caused so many problems throughout the territory. Find and kill them.
“You’re growling.”
Wynhod’s quiet voice brought Gelan to his senses. The investigator felt his chest and throat vibrating with barely suppressed fury. The angry sound was soft but definitely there. He felt his face flush with warmth and stopped.
“If you knew what we’re up against with Delir—” Gelan started, but the growl came back. He took a deep breath and met Wynhod’s gaze. “We can’t pin down the leaders. The gang members kill themselves before they can be questioned, and the witnesses are too intimidated to talk.”
“So I’ve been told.” Wynhod popped a final bite of his breakfast in his mouth and spoke around his chewing. “Too bad we can’t truth-drug victims without their consent.”
Gelan sighed. “I doubt they know anything of worth anyway. The gang leadership keeps itself off the streets and out of sight. Meanwhile, Delir keeps showing up and innocent people keep dying.”
“Better medicine for a better Empire.”
Gelan snorted. “I’m sure that Benor Pharmaceuticals would not appreciate their slogan being used in connection with Delir. Especially coming from someone in our precinct.”
“Why’s that?” Wynhod sounded bored.
“The owner, Dramok Benor himself, donated a dozen new shuttles to us last year. He does military-grade weapons manufacture too. Everyone who wasn’t on duty was required to report to the event, which was a big, fancy to-do. The man does a lot of good for the community, but he’s always ready to receive his accolades.”
“A bit of an egotist, huh?”
“That’s putting it lightly. Head Investigator Utta says the man wants a parade for every blaster and shuttle he puts in our hands. I heard the food and booze was good at that last self-congratulatory shindig, but the speeches went on forever.”
Wynhod smirked. “Let me guess – you decided to put in for overtime that day.”
Gelan returned the grin. “Damned straight. Given the choice between dressing up and hobnobbing with politicos and business leaders, or ramming your skull into the impenetrable wall that is Delir, which would you have chosen?”
“I guess I’d take the same terrible route so many are these days and drowned myself in Delir.”
Drowned, indeed. Delir was a raging tidal wave that threatened to sweep all the territory under.
Gelan shook his head. “That shit has stolen enough lives. There has got to be a way to get it out of commission. I put every second I can into finding a way to make this stop.”
The hallucinogenic drug Delir had become Gelan’s personal nightmare. Even before Amik’s death, it had been driving law enforcement crazy in the Southwest Mountain Territory. It wasn’t the taking of Delir that made users a problem. It was what happened after they’d become addicted and couldn’t get their next fix.
Delir had been derived from a fungus that grew in most of the forests of Kalquor, one renowned for its many medicinal applications. But what someone in the local gang had done was chemically enhance its properties, distilling it in such a way that it made users feel on top of the world. At first glance, Delir seemed to be a wonder drug. People who had tried it were able to think the clearest they ever had. Their mental states were that of extreme peace and tranquility. Amazing insights into mechanics and engineering had been linked to the effects of Delir usage.
However, the evil twin of Delir showed up once addiction had taken hold. Withdrawal symptoms included hallucinations, conversations with imaginary people, and murderous psychotic episodes. One man had slaughtered his entire clan and their parent clans when he could no longer recognize himself in the mirror. He’d been convinced those around him had somehow removed his consciousness and placed it into a body they could control. That particular Nobek now resided in a mental facility, with no prognosis of ever returning to his right mind.
Delir use had exploded in Gelan’s territory, with no end to the epidemic in sight. Murders had doubled in two years, and this year was on track to triple the average rate. Try as they might, the precincts of the Southwest Mountain Territory had made almost no headway in stopping the drug’s rampage. It now crept into the surrounding territories as well, slowly gaining a foothold that Gelan had no doubt would spread like wildfire.
Wynhod smiled, the expression almost gentle and sitting badly on his fierce face. “You kept up on the investigation while you were on leave.”
Gelan nodded. “I have a direct link from headquarters to my computer at home. The head investigator actually gave me a reprimand two days ago for spending too much time going over the interviews after Amik’s death.”
“You are the lead investigator for the Delir case. What did he expect?”
“He wanted me to get some distance and clear my head. I tried to for all of two hours. Then I gave up.”
Wynhod chuckled. “Same Gelan, unable to let a problem go until you’ve worried it to death. So you’re ready to jump right in?”
Gelan nodded, his expression set. “Absolutely. I want to re-interview all the witnesses to Amik’s death, for all the good it will do. Maybe someone will let something slip or we’ll find a brave soul who will remember a small detail and tell us about it.”
Wynhod stretched and stood while Gelan punched in his account number to pay for their meal. “Fun, fun, fun. You always were a million laughs,” the Nobek told him.
Gelan smiled but his heart wasn’t in the expression. He was ready to get bac
k to work and firmly pushed personal issues to the back of his head. Delir and the gang manufacturing and distributing it were out there, needing to be caught. Later was soon enough to wonder what the future held for him and the Nobek he could never forget.
Chapter 2
Gelan drew a deep breath, fighting for the patience he needed. The shopkeeper he was in the process of interviewing was scared, which made the man defensive. He’d require careful handling if Gelan was to get any information out of the Imdiko.
In a tone of gentle patience, Gelan asked, “So even though the attack happened right in front of your shop, you can’t describe any of it? Not even me or the men who died?”
The shopkeeper, an elderly Imdiko who refused to look Gelan or Wynhod in the eyes, shook his head adamantly. His graying hair swung tiredly about his frightened, lined face. He jerked a thumb back at his shop, which sold locally grown produce.
“I ran to the back and hid as soon as I heard the first blast. I saw nothing.”
Gelan pressed, keeping his voice low, hoping the hunched fellow would understand he’d keep all information confidential. “What about after the fighting ended? Surely you came out to see what was going on?”
The shopkeeper flicked his gaze over the curious passersby and shook his head again. “I’m the last of my clan. I have two elders I care for, both infirm. I saw nothing.”
Gelan knew the Imdiko was subtly telling him he had no Nobek to protect him and his elders. He would not share anything for fear of repercussions from the Delir gang. Gelan’s assurance of protection had no effect on him, as it had no effect on anyone these days. The gang had become too dangerous and law enforcement too ineffective against it to find those willing to dare to speak up.
Until Gelan and his fellow officers started putting the murderous Delir dealers and manufacturers away, no one was going to talk. Pushing the issue would only result in the old man walking away from him, closing him out completely. He gave up.
Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) Page 2