Chelen City: Chapter Two, Part One

 Notes: More Chelen City! And on a Tuesday, even! I'm getting back on track, at last.

Title: Chelen City: Chapter Two, Part One

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Chapter Two, Part One

 

Despite his elevated status in society, Elanus still had to follow most of the rules. He couldn’t just bring anyone he wanted to on-planet without making sure they were registered with the local authorities. He’d done all of the legwork on that for Kieron, of course, but then he’d gone and spirited his lover away to his home the moment Kieron arrived instead of letting him get through the rest of the process at the same time as the refugees. That was something that had to be remedied, and quickly, before someone accused Elanus of harboring a pirate.

Pirates in deep space were a fantasy. As far as Elanus was concerned, they were so rare as to be unreal. On planet, though, or between planets in the same star system—that could happen, and did with great frequency. It was worse on Gania than most places, a side-effect of being raised with criminal forefathers perhaps. The powerful took every chance they had to outflank each other. That might mean an assassination attempt, or an effort to steal proprietary information. Or it might be “piracy,” corporate thievery under the guise of “rogue elements.”

One way that “rogue elements” infiltrated society? Being brought here as guests, outside the normal bounds of Federation commerce and licensing. The second people knew about Kieron, accusations would start being flung about if he wasn’t properly registered.

Ugh. So tedious, so time-consuming. But given that Elanus had used this same gambit in the past with some of his rivals, he could hardly protest having it used against him. That meant that early on the day right after Kieron’s arrival, when he would have much preferred lying next to his lover and possibly teasing another orgasm or two out of him, however they happened to come, they were instead standing in line outside a government office on the fifty-fifth story of a mere hundred-story building, waiting for an appointment with a registrar.

“I’m amazed this can’t be done virtually.”

Kieron sounded tired. He’d hardly had a chance to regain his equilibrium from the journey—of course he was tired.

“I’m amazed as well, but you know how it is. Every society has its backward moments. Besides, virtually confirming that a person is a registered guest, even with DNA scanning and subdermal monitoring and all those sorts of failsafes, still isn’t foolproof. And the government at least has to genuflect in the direction of taking piracy seriously, so.” He waved his hand at the hallway, the other people, the floor—everything in range. “Here we are.”

“I got the contract to run Cloverleaf Station entirely virtually. No in-person interview required.” Kieron tilted his head up to look at Elanus. “Who’s going to run it next season, by the way?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he replied with all honesty. “I’ve opened the position to applicants, but no one is standing out as a good fit so far.”

Kieron smiled. “No technologically capable, introverted-but-personable, unhealthy-relationship-with-danger scientists have applied?”

“None as delightfully crazy as you,” Elanus cooed, and was repaid by an actual laugh. The timing was perfect—they were up next. They made a space for the previous pair to get out, then stepped into the room.

“Boss Desfontaines. Mr. Carr.” The woman behind the desk sat primly, her long legs hidden but her arms folded over each other like insect wings. Since most women on Gania didn’t cultivate facial hair the way men did, they tended to have peacock-like hairstyles instead—a shock of lustrous hair in the middle of their heads, with the sides shaved in careful designs to show off their artistry. This woman’s hair was light purple and combed over to one side, with some very angular designs highlighted in a darker shade on the other side. Her face was slightly pinched, lips as thin as her limbs.

“Boss?” Kieron mouthed silently as Elanus sent the registrar a charming smile.

“Ms. Farraday. What a delight. Lilac is your color.”

Her posture relaxed slightly. “My wife chose it for me. Sit down, both of you.” Fortunately one of the seats was sized for the average human in the Federation; otherwise Kieron’s legs would have been dangling down like a child.

“I’m surprised you didn’t send an assistant along to register your guest.” Ms. Farraday did indeed look a little surprised. “Who is so important that you’ve deigned to descend from the thousand-levels and hobnob with us lesser folk?”

“Kieron isn’t just a guest,” Elanus replied smoothly, refusing to take offense. He had his status thrown in his face all the time, sometimes discreetly, sometimes screamed. He could take it. “He’s my partner.” He saw Kieron stiffen a bit and hoped he hadn’t gone too far.

“A partner.” Ms. Farraday looked at Kieron with wider eyes. “Delilah—my wife—mentioned an inquiry from you about treating a newcomer.”

“Delilah ought to keep her mouth shut before she violates Federation privacy laws,” Kieron said tightly.

“Medical privacy laws only apply to confirmed citizens or guests, even if they are Federation,” Ms. Farrady replied. “We have to be able to discuss things like the potential for spreadable disease, for instance. These conversations are being had right now about the refugees you accompanied here, Mr. Carr.”

“We were thoroughly medically examined before landing, and I’ve been in good stead since my last Federation physical.”

“Mmm. According to the reports we requested from your former post, you’ve had a number of physical and mental challenges since then. Anyone would be concerned.”

Time to cut this off before it rots. “Let’s get to the point,” Elanus said. “Are you denying his registration?” If she was, Elanus would go over her head. It would eat up some of his social and covert currency, but he would spend all of it if it meant keeping Kieron beside him.

“No,” Ms. Farraday said after a moment, uncrossing her arms and leaning her elbows onto the desk. “But we are going to make psychological treatment a necessary component of it. It just so happens that Delilah has an opening in her schedule.”

“She’s from Hadrian’s colony, isn’t she?” Kieron’s voice was cold. When Ms. Farraday nodded, he shook his head. “I don’t want to meet with her.”

“Who else would be so understanding of your mentality?”

“That place and everyone who lived there is part of my past,” Kieron insisted. “I don’t want to dig it up just because someone I can’t even remember is feeling sentimental.”

Ms. Farraday stared between them for a moment. Elanus waited for her next play. Legally, she couldn’t deny Kieron the chance to choose his own therapist, but she wasn’t the type to give up easily either.

“There is a request for mixing from the refugees,” she said after a moment.

“Mixing?” Kieron looked at Elanus.

“With Ganian society,” he clarified. “To meet with people beyond our aid structure.”

“You in particular,” she said to Elanus. “Apparently there’s a woman who’s missing a daughter. She has all sorts of things to discuss with you. However, quarantine requires them to be isolated for another two weeks, and due to the delicacy of their health, no remote access is being allowed. President’s orders,” she added when Elanus opened his mouth to complain.

Shit.

“But I might be able to find a workaround for you and your registered guest, if he chooses an appropriate therapist.”

“You massive bitch,” Elanus said with a bit of admiration. He hadn’t expected this level of brinksmanship from a simple registration. He looked at Kieron, but didn’t say anything. This had to be his choice, not Elanus’s.

“Fine.” Kieron seemed completely unemotional as he said it, as flat as an untrained AI. “How many sessions?”

“As many as required to—”

“No,” Elanus interjected. “One for assessment and then follow-ups, not to exceed one per week for six weeks. That’s the standard for incoming refugees, you’re not going to increase that for Kieron, who is a guest, just because your wife has a thing for his mind.”

Ms. Farraday finally nodded. “All right. I’ll put you in touch via implant once we have you connected to the planetary database.” She pulled an implant reader out of her desk—a surprisingly old-fashioned one, the kind that gave scientists a bad name with all its exposed wires and bulk. “Now.” She smiled. “Bow your head.”

Kieron complied despite the impropriety of the position, while Elanus carefully hid the anger he was feeling. This is a power play. Beyond the therapist. Someone is deliberately making this uncomfortable for us.

And he was going to find out who.