Pandora Post #25

Title: Pandora



Part Twenty-Five: First Separate, Then Recombine



Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. But where’s the R-rated stuff?!? It’s coming back soon, promise.





***







In the three weeks his trip took, Garrett almost burned his engines out pushing them to get to Paradise. It was easier not to sleep and have to deal with the dreams that inevitably came with it, so he stuffed himself with all the stimulants the autodoc would give him and spaced forty-hour periods of wakefulness with five hour stretches of sleep, over and over until he finally got the proximity alert for Paradise. An extremely thorough check with the tower got him access to the private landing pad for the governor’s mansion, and Garrett didn’t care that his ship’s landing probably looked like a drunkard slumping to the ground, he was just ready to be out of there.

He raced out of his ship and into the safe zone, where Claudia was waiting for him. A second later they were in each other’s arms, and Garrett couldn’t tell who was clutching who harder. She smelled different than she used to, warm and somehow fresh, but overlaying that was the slightly sour scent of fatigue, and she was trembling just a little bit. They didn’t speak for a long time, didn’t even move until one of the marines on protective detail cleared her throat and gently touched Claudia’s shoulder. “Ma’am, we should move back indoors.”

Claudia pulled back a little bit and wiped her eyes with the edge of the long white shawl wrapped around her shoulders and neck, then nodded wearily. “I know, Therese.” She kept her arm around Garrett’s waist and he kept her tucked close to his side, and they walked into the mansion flanked by eight wary, gun-toting marines.

The marines left them alone once they were in the private family wing, except for the woman, who after a nod from Claudia set down her rifle and moved softly into one of the back rooms. Garrett kissed his stepmother’s dark hair and gave her a squeeze. “Are you okay, honey?”

“No,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her chest. “But I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Is Renee okay?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Claudia replied, actually managing a chuckle, “Renee’s fine. She’s in perfect health, she’s noisy, she’s so beautiful…Renee is the one good thing I’ve got right now.”

“I take it Miles is still being difficult, then?” Garrett teased her.

“Don’t make jokes,” Claudia begged. “Not about Miles. I’m going out of my mind worrying about him, and the doctors still don’t have a good idea of when he’ll come out of the coma.”

Garrett couldn’t say he was sorry because he wasn’t, really. Jokes were how he dealt with his father. Thinking serious thoughts right now, when he was sleep deprived and skirting the edge of overdose on stimulants, wasn’t something he could handle yet. “He’ll come out of it sooner than anyone thinks. Miles is impossible to keep down.”

“That rocket did a pretty good job of keeping him down,” Claudia said bitterly, moving out of Garrett’s arms and towards the kitchen. She started making tea, the old-fashioned way, with a kettle and everything. Garrett sat on a bar stool and watched her move. Claudia had changed a little with her pregnancy, become a little softer, a little more curvaceous. To him she looked absolutely gorgeous, and he could only imagine how his father had looked at her. Claudia had gone from an environment of love, comfort and security to pain and panic overnight, and she wasn’t dealing well with the changes. Not that anyone could really deal well with something like this, Garrett allowed, but he was suddenly extremely glad he’d come, because Claudia looked like she was headed for a breakdown, and he needed to help her release some of that pressure.

“The doctors didn’t think Miles was going to survive at first. He was badly burned over most of his body, and then there was a lot of shrapnel.” Claudia’s hands shook a little as she poured the hot water into small white cups. “His head was mostly uninjured, but there was significant swelling in his brain before the doctors managed to get everything stabilized. He’s not healing as quickly as they thought he would. They don’t know when he’ll wake up, and even when he does they aren’t sure what he’ll remember.” Or if he’ll remember anything, her body language screamed.

“He’s in the barracks medical bay, in a separate room from the others who are being treated. Wyl’s there too—did I mention that?”

“You did,” Garrett said quietly. “Why is Wyl in a coma?”

“It’s just until the Regen is done working. You remember what a hard time he had watching Robbie go through the regrowth process on his leg…Wyl couldn’t handle watching it happen to himself, he was having panic attacks. He asked to go under until the process was finished.” Claudia glanced over at Garrett. “Do you want milk? Sugar?”

“Sure.” Not that he ever drank tea, or really cared what went into it, but she needed something to do right now. “So Miles is in a separate room?”

“Yes, it’s more secure, there’s a DNA scan to get you in. It’s only keyed to allow the doctors, Robbie, and Renee and I in so far. And you,” she added. “I put you on the list even though you weren’t here, because I knew you’d come as soon as you could.” She came over to Garrett and handed him the steaming cup of tea. “He’s locked in a Regen chamber, of course, but the doctors set it up with a microphone system that lets out voices get transmitted through the walls so that Miles can hear us if we want. They thought it might be good for him to be able to listen to the sound of our voices.”

“Right.” More likely they thought it would be good therapy for Claudia. “What’s Robbie up to?”

“Oh, poor man,” Claudia sighed, sitting down on a stool next to Garrett but not touching her tea. “Well, the parliament never got around to electing a lieutenant governor, so after the attacks a de facto martial law went into place, and Robbie is the highest-ranked military official, so he’s taken over almost all of Miles’ responsibilities. Of course the parliament is taking up a lot of his time, and he’s still running all of the security operations.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “If only Jane was still here, this would be a lot easier on him.”

“How did she die?” Garrett asked gently, taking one of Claudia’s cold hands in his.

“Jane was close to the epicenter of the blast in the barracks. Doctors determined that she died instantly, but it took a while to find the body.” Tears slipped down Claudia’s cheeks. “Robbie was frantic, you know, because Jane and Wyl were both missing and we didn’t have enough emergency responders who had security clearance to get survivors out quickly. Robbie found Jane first, and with her being the way she was when he found her, he got kind of…he was…”

“It’s okay.” Garrett put his tea down and pulled her in for another hug. “It’s okay, I get it. I know how Robbie can be.”

“Would you talk to him when he gets in?” Claudia sniffed. “I think he needs help, but he said he doesn’t have time for anything but working right now and that I shouldn’t worry, but you know me, I always worry.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Garrett promised. He knew what was probably going on with Robbie, and the answer right now wasn’t going to be pity or commiseration. Tough love could wait, though.

Just then the marine came into the kitchen. She’d taken off her armor and was carrying a squirming bundle in her arms. “She’s getting a little fussy, I thought you might want to feed her.”

“Renee’s always fussy after naps,” Claudia sighed, but a genuine pleasure seemed to light up her eyes. “Thank you, Therese.” She held out her arms and the other woman carefully handed the baby over.

“You’re a bodyguard and a nanny?” Garrett asked curiously.

Therese blushed slightly. “Bodyguard first, but I have three younger brothers that I helped bring up, and Claudia needed the help.”

“Therese is from Kalmia, like me. The same city, even,” Claudia said as she lifted the infant to her breast. The baby latched on quickly and began to nurse, and Claudia sighed.

“You should go lie down,” Garrett told her. “Get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I can stay up with you.” She tilted her head suddenly and stared at him with curiosity. “Did you change your hair again?”

If only you knew. “Not since I cut it short. And you don’t have to play hostess with me, Claudia, we’re family.” He reached out and stroked his little sister’s forehead, his fingers lingering on the tips of the downy-soft fuzz covering her head. “I want to go look in on Miles anyway.”

“If you’re sure…” she wavered, glancing longingly towards her bedroom.

“Completely sure.”

“Well, at least let Therese show you the way,” Claudia insisted. “And let me know as soon as you need something. I’m happy to get up and keep you company.”

Clearly she was determined to be helpful. Garrett decided trickery was the best way to go. “I’ll do that,” he lied courteously. “Go on, go lie down. Snuggle your baby for a while. Get her ready to deal with me.”

“Oh, she’s going to love you.”

“How could she not?” Garrett agreed. “Now get.”

Once Claudia was gone, Garrett turned to Therese. He could see a marked resemblance between the two women: both slender and fine boned, both dark haired and pretty. Probably distantly related, like everyone on the tiny moon of Kalmia was. The original settlers had been insular but very prolific. “I have no intention of waking her, just so you know.”

“Good,” Therese replied bluntly. “I’m glad I won’t have to lock her door to keep you out, then.”

“Ouch,” Garrett said, but he was smiling. “Feeling a little protective, are we?”

“Claudia has been through a lot. I was a little worried that you coming here would sap her resources further, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find you reasonable.” She motioned towards the door. “The infirmary is this way.”

They left the family wing and headed towards the barracks. “How did you pull guard detail?”

“It was left in Governor Caractacus’ instructions to staff in case of emergency,” Therese said, opening another door. “He wanted to make sure Claudia was looked after. He left instructions about you as well, but they were a moot point after you left.”

“You sound almost accusatory,” Garrett noted as they entered the infirmary.

“I don’t mean to be accusatory, sir.” Her tone was perfectly even and formal.

“It’s all right if you do, I don’t mind.” Honestly, Garrett didn’t mind; it was actually kind of funny to him. He couldn’t seem to do the right thing whether he chose to go or stay, on either Paradise or Pandora. Story of his life, and right now he was too wired to feel either affronted by the marine’s presumption or self-pitying over her insight.

They walked in silence through the infirmary, pausing only so that Therese could point out Wyl’s Regen chamber. His was the third in four rows of fourteen, almost all of them occupied. “Mr. Leyton is enclosed right over there.”

“Good to know.”

At the end of the main hall was a small, securely sealed door marked PRIVATE. To the right of the handle was a medical gauntlet. “Just let that take your reading and you’ll be let in.”

“Thank you.” Garrett watched Therese walk briskly away, then put his hand into the gauntlet. A tiny prick and a few seconds of whirring, and then the security system acknowledged him and let him in. Garrett shut the door behind him and walked slowly into his father’s private room.

It was cold in there, the faint light emanating from the walls and ceiling hardly enough to illuminate the chair beside the Regen chamber. Garrett walked over to the cylindrical healing unit and inspected the top. There was no window to look in at the patient, but there was a readout showing the current state of regeneration. Fuck, Claudia hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Miles had lost a lot of skin…he was only at sixty percent across his legs, eighty percent on his chest and back.

The chair next to the chamber was hard. It felt quite fitting, considering the mausoleum-like atmosphere in this damn place. Garrett sighed, then flicked the microphone on.

“So.” He felt like his voice should be echoing in such an empty place, but the room was too small for that. “Here I am. And there you are. You know, I really prefer being the one in the box. It’s a lot less work, none of the emotional baggage that comes with waiting for the other person to wake up. You could drown in the sentiment floating around here, and I’ve only spoken with two women and a baby so far. Not that Renee had much to say, but I’m sure she’ll be a stunning conversationalist given time.

“Claudia’s holding it together. This is probably more difficult than anything she’s ever gone through before, and she’s been doing pretty well from what I can see, but the cracks are there, and they’re getting wider and wider. I’m going to do my best for her, but my best isn’t you. She needs you, Dad, as fast as possible. If you could come back with your memory completely intact so we don’t have to go through any awkward explanations and additional emotional anguish, that would be infinitely preferable.

“Speaking of angsty subjects, thought, I’m perfectly fine with appealing to the lesser parts of your nature to get you to wake the hell up,” Garrett continued, letting a little of the anger and worry he felt creep into his voice. “You are an incredibly lucky son of a bitch, you know that? You have a gorgeous wife and a beautiful baby girl and, last but not least, me. You’re loved and respected by everyone on this planet who isn’t a terrorist. You’re in a position of power on a world in chaos. These aren’t the kind of responsibilities that benefit from time away from you while you mosey your way back to health. You’re fucking all kinds of shit up by taking your goddamn time in this fucking chamber, so get your mojo going and speed up your goddamn engine already!”

Garrett rubbed a hand through his hair tiredly. “I have to get some sleep, I’ve been up for a few days…maybe a week. I’ve lost track. I’ll be back later, though. Don’t think you’re getting out of this by ignoring me.” After a moment’s hesitation, Garrett laid one hand on the chamber, let the feel of its quiet thrumming soothe him. “I love you, Dad.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually said those words out loud to his father. It made him a little uncomfortable, even though he was sure that Miles couldn’t actually hear him. “Wake up soon.”

It was somehow both a relief and wrenching for Garrett to leave Miles, but that was characteristic for them. There were other people who needed his attention right now, though. With that in mind, Garrett went to look for Robbie.

I feel like Christmas!!!

Why do I feel like Christmas, you might ask?

Because my longest individually-authored publication to date, A Blinded Mind, not only has a release date (November 2nd) and a url where you can find it (A Blinded Mind with Dreamspinner Press), it also has a blurb and, more importantly, cover art!  It's like being given the gift I most longed for two months early.  I've been on pins and needles waiting to see this cover art and I love it!

Let me share the joy.

I mean, yum, right?  Captures the dystopian feel of the subject matter (the story occurs post-WW3) while being totally hot.  Thank you, Anne Cain, for being awesome, and thank you Dreamspinner Press for letting me pick her and not just saying, "You take what you get, suck it!"

Not that that's ever happened to me, exactly.

Nooooo...

Anyway, how about we round this post out with a blurb?  I'll put a snippet up later this week to give you a feel for things. 

PS--I wrote this story in Togo during the dryest, dustiest season of the year, and some of that bleakness comes through in the writing, but you all know I love romance and happy endings and I would never torture you.   Not unless you asked for it :) 


Blurb: 

Jonathan Hatcher has led an interesting life. Once the psychic protégé of Dr. Nelson Cagney of the Bureau of Psychological Corrections, he escaped and went on the run through post-World War Three Europe, scraping a living out of the ruins of civilization and avoiding the mindless vics: humans turned berserker by exposure to biological and chemical weapons.


Once again at Cagney's mercy, Jonathan is stuck in PsyCo's high-security wing with no idea whether Sam, the man he thinks he may love, is alive or dead by his hand. Though at first he only plays along for news of Sam, soon Jonathan sees the conditions in the warring European Coalition are desperate. Sam and Jonathan must make a choice: make for France and a life together… or team up with their captors against a devastating new threat.

A few "make my day" cool things:)

One, thanks a lot to the people who commented, emailed me and overall persevered (despite Blogger making things difficult) about Pandora.  I'm so glad you're enjoying it and never fear, all shall be resolved.  I'm sorry Jane had to go, but look a the silver lining: it wasn't Wyl. 

Two, my short story Different Spheres got accepted for publication by Dreamspinner Press and will probably be coming out in February/March with them.  I'll let you know more as I do, like what the cover will be etc., but thanks a lot for the kind words about the snippets I posted.  I'll throw you a few more before it's published.  Maybe even do a contest; I'm back in America, I have contest capacity now.  I totally need to get with it as an author/promoter and make you yearn for more, yeah?  Yeah.  I'll work on that.

Happy Wednesday, guys.  Keep your chins up:)

Pandora Post #24

Title: Pandora




Part Twenty-Four: Tipping Point



Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. I know, I know…how can I leave it like this? Don’t worry, I can’t, not for long.





***





The day started with a fight. Not the kind of fight that Garrett preferred if one was inevitable, full of angry declarations, wild claims and drama that was resolved either with brutal makeup sex or a badly needed break from each other. It wasn’t the kind Robbie preferred either, which was purely physical, any interpersonal conflict resolved with fists and feet, knees and elbows, and perhaps a shock baton if you were feeling vindictive. No, this kind of fight was the kind that Jonah seemed to lean towards, which was to say that it wasn’t really a fight at all, more like a mass of unresolved feelings that tainted everything you did and said but maintained deniability.

Garrett had been expecting a fight. Truth be told, he would have welcomed a fight at this point, in the way that a child welcomes the sting of a needle because it means the shot will be over soon. It was time to stop living in a fantasy world where he could stay with Jonah and Cody without having to stay here, on Pandora, forever. Yes, he’d finish out the contract here, and if things went the best way Garrett thought they possibly could, Jonah would accept his lover’s decision and decide that they could still be together for the remainder of Garrett’s time here. If things didn’t work out, well, at least then they both would know and could move on, instead of being trapped in the limbo that was “maybe”.

Garrett had had his new eyes for close to a week, and in two days Jonah and Cody were moving into their new house. Cody talked on and on about how great it was and how much Garrett was going to like it, and both of the adults had been indulging his fantasy, but the issue remained, well, an issue between them. Jonah wanted Garrett to move with them; Garrett wanted to keep his apartment on board. Garrett had suggested splitting his time in an effort to compromise, but Jonah had been pretty adamant that he wanted Cody to be able to depend on Garrett. “We’re not part-time people,” Jonah had said, almost angrily as they went to bed last night. “I told you that from the start. Cody doesn’t need you around some of the time, he needs you to be there for him all the time. So do I.”

Garrett had rounded on that, ready to argue his side, but by then Jonah had sighed, apologized and gone to shower. By the time he came out he was mostly silent, not angry, and he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Not my place to tell you what to do,” he’d said before kissing Garrett firmly on the mouth.

It honestly wasn’t surprising that Jonah was a passive-aggressive arguer. He’d been raised a Drifter, and Drifters had to be charming as hell if they were going to make berth at any place in the central system, but once they docked they had to be prepared to bargain hard for the best deals they could in the time they had. Also, most likely the last time Jonah had had a huge fight with a lover was when he’d split with Jack, and that had resulted in a tacit exile from his family. No wonder he was cautious now with Garrett.

Especially because he loves you. Garrett knew Jonah loved him. They hadn’t exchanged those words but it was there in his movements, in the way he touched Garrett when they were together, the way he held him at night, the way he smiled. He hadn’t said it yet because Garrett hadn’t, and Garrett wasn’t going to, either. It was bad enough that he’d already admitted it privately to himself.

Which means you’re giving up on any possible future with the man you love, and his wonderful child, because you’re a selfish bastard. Yeah,well, of course it sounded bad when he put it like that.

The day didn’t improve with work. Garrett’s climate modeling unit crashed during the first hour, and the technical support staff were all busy out in Pandora City doing custom power and appliance installations for new homeowners. That left Garrett with trying to repair it himself, and while he was an excellent climatologist, he was a terrible mechanical engineer.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the fifth fuck this hour,” Lila commented from her workstation. “Don’t you want to just leave this for a professional.”

“I am a—fuck it—a professional. I can do this. I just don’t have the right tools, I had to jury rig the right soldering tip and the welds aren’t sticking.”

“You can’t use a soldering iron in one of those,” Shekar objected. “The backing is a non-conductive alloy, it won’t bond with typical solders. Let me see the module.” He wiggled his fingers imperiously.

“Fine.” Garrett gave the piece up reluctantly and watched sullenly as Shekar immediately discarded the soldering iron and began rummaging through his station for tools of his own.

“Someone’s being Mister Grumpy,” Lila said quietly.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your kindergarten teacher lately,” Garrett replied. “And how is Mr. Hugelin-Padin?”

“He’s fine, and don’t change the subject. What’s the problem?”

“Not one I want to share in any form or flavor, thanks.”

“Is it about Jonah?” she asked. “Did you guys have a fight?”

“What part of ‘not going to share’ don’t you comprehend?”

“Oh, you did,” she cooed sympathetically. “You know, it might help to talk about it.”

Garrett shut his eyes for a moment. “Lila…you are not Glinda the Good Psychiatrist. You don’t get to psychoanalyze me or encourage me to talk about my feelings, not if you want to maintain a decent working relationship with me.”

“I thought we were friends as well,” she said with a frown. “Friends share things that are bothering them with each other.”

“I have nothing to share. I’m not bothered, Lila, this isn’t my bothered face.”

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself like this, Garrett.”

It was becoming perilously easy for Garrett to picture himself bopping Lila upside the head with the soil sample she was currently analyzing. The sounding of his com saved him from too much temptation. “Yes?”

“Sir, you have an message coming through marked urgent.”

“Where is it from?”

“Planet designation Paradise.”

An urgent message from Paradise could only be bad. Garrett hadn’t heard from anyone there since his father introduced him to Renee. “I’ll take audio now.”

“Connecting you, one moment please.”

A second later Garrett heard Claudia, and a second after that he was glad he was sitting down.

“Gare, it’s me.” Her voice was nothing like he was used to hearing, husky with exhaustion and something else. It sounded like…pain. “There’s been an attack—well, there were a couple really, but they all happened at the same time. Terrorists launched rockets at your father’s motorcade yesterday while he was heading to the Parliament building and two of the vehicles were destroyed. Six people were killed…not Miles, thank god, but he was very badly wounded. He’s in an artificial coma for the Regen work and probably will be for weeks.” Her voice hitched and he could almost see her passing her hand in front of her eyes, trying to keep it together. She went on after a moment. “A bomb went off in the motorcade next to the barracks and blew up most of our troop transports, too. Wyl was injured, and Jane Freeman is dead. Robbie was out on patrol though, and he’s fine, he’s just fine.” Claudia sounded like she was reassuring herself as much as Garrett.

“Gare…I need you to come home, please. Just come home, for now, please. I need you here, Miles needs you, and Robbie is…Gare, come home to us. We’re your family, and we need you.” A pause, then she said, “I have to go. Come as fast as you can.” The message ended.

Vaguely Garrett could hear other people’s voices, a hand on his shoulder, overtones and gestures of concern, but for a few moments none of it really registered. Every fuse in his mind had blown, and it took several seconds for reality to seep back in through the haze of anxiety that Claudia’s voice had left him with.

“I have to go.”

“What?” He could hear Lila clearly now, and see her beside him, looking at him inquisitively.

“Never mind.” Garrett stood up, relieved his legs were steady, and headed out of the lab without another word. He ignored the shouted questions and forwarded the message to Jezria, walking fast along the hallway towards the nearest lift. By the time he reached her office, she was ready for him. Steven opened the door at Garrett’s first knock and got quickly out of the way.

Jezria was standing in the foyer, her face serious and sympathetic. Her voice, fortunately, was nothing but professional. Garrett couldn’t deal with comfort at the moment.

“When do you want to leave?” she asked.

“As soon as possible,” he replied.

“I’ll tell the control tower to be ready to open the environmental shield on your signal. Does your ship need fuel?”

“I’m not sure. Probably.” Garrett hadn’t been on his ship in months, he barely remembered the last diagnostics he’d run.

“I’ll have the technicians see to it. It will take as much as an hour for them to remove the locks and ensure it’s ready to fly, though.”

“That’s all right, I have to pack.” Reality flooded back into his brain and he groaned under his breath. “And I have to tell Jonah and Cody I’m leaving.”

“And a little more, maybe.”

“Yes,” Garrett sighed. “And a little more.”

“You’ve never shared very much with him about your family, have you?”

“He’s talked to them,” Garrett said defensively. “He knows where they live, he knows my dad is a politician, he knows I have a little sister.”

“That’s it?”

“What else does he need to know?”

“Oh, Garrett.” Jezria sounded disappointed. “Well, now’s not the time to be worrying about those sorts of things. Go and pack up, I’ll make sure everything is ready with your ship and call you when it’s done. Do you want to send a message to Claudia from here? I can give it priority.”

“No, I’ll call her once I’m underway.” Garrett began to turn, but then Jezria opened her arms and gently pulled him into a hug. He tensed, stiff in her grasp, until she sighed with exasperation and let him go.

“Get there safely,” she told him. “No pushing the engines too hard, because the last thing you need is to break down in the middle of nowhere without anyone there to help you.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said sarcastically.

“I wish I was, sometimes,” Jezria replied. “Give your family my love, please.”

Garrett flushed, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “I will.” This time when he turned to leave she didn’t do anything to stop him.

Garrett had been planning on calling Jonah and Cody once he was all packed and ready to go, but someone had beaten him to the punch and they were waiting for him when he got home. Cody launched off the stool by the counter as soon as Garrett walked through the door and latched around his waist. “Garrett! Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

Oh, wonderful. Garrett could have killed Jezria. The urge to snap and snarl was almost overwhelming, but he knew he couldn’t afford to give into that temptation, not with Cody. Once he was thinking straight he’d never forgive himself, and neither would Jonah.

“I have to leave,” Garrett said, and he thought his voice sounded pretty calm, all things considered. “My family was in an accident, and they need me.”

“Are you going back to Olympus?”

“No…my family lives on a planet called Paradise. It’s a little closer than Olympus.” Garrett slowly detached Cody and pushed him back a few steps. “I have to get ready to go, okay?”

Cody looked distressed, but he nodded and didn’t try to cling again. Finally Garrett raised his eyes to Jonah, and the flat, expressionless look on his lover’s face made his chest ache sharply. “I’ll help you pack.”

There was going to be no avoiding this. “Fine.”

“Stay here, bucko, we’ll be out soon,” Jonah told his son, ruffling his curls before heading back into the master bedroom. Garrett followed him, feet dragging a little, not looking forward to what was coming, not wanting to talk, or think, or do anything but fly into the black of space and leave everyone and everything behind for a while.

Jonah had stopped next to the bed but Garrett continued to the closet, pulling out a storage kit and laying it open, then turning to contemplate his clothes. Funny…they took up nearly two-thirds of the space in there, smooth and shining next to Jonah’s simpler things. Had it always been this way? The closet would be practically empty once his stuff came out, and that would just be…odd. What to bring…Garrett reached for his favorite blue suit.

“So. Your dad’s a governor.”

“Yes.” The blue suit went into the kit, followed by a dark gray pinstripe that looked fabulous on Garrett but that he hadn’t worn for months.

“The governor of an entire planet.”

“He had to do something after his military career.” Purple suit…no, kind of ostentatious, not the image he wanted to project when he got to Paradise, which would be…what, grieving son, stalwart friend, support staff? All of the above?

“Is all your family that illustrious?”

“Or infamous, take your pick.” The white, definitely, both of them.

“So you were never even considering staying here,” Jonah said, his voice hard in a way Garrett had never heard before. “Why stay here when you’ve got all that wealth and power waiting for you back there?”

“Yeah, and look at what that wealth and power is getting me right now!” Garrett rounded on Jonah furiously. “My father almost died, he’s in a coma. My stepmother is taking care of an infant and an insurrection on her own. One of my friends is in all likelihood running the entire military operation on that planet, another is injured and a third is dead. I get that you’re upset at me, but the last thing I’m going to do right now is let my family down because I’m wasting time trying to soothe your hurt feelings.”

There was a long moment of complete silence, with the two of them just staring at each other. “Got it,” Jonah said at last. “I’ll clear your things outta the bathroom.” He disappeared into the small side room and Garrett pressed a hand to his eyes, trying to control the sudden burning feeling. He couldn’t cry now, he couldn’t, this was not fucking happening…

“Hey, no, I’m sorry.” Arms came around him a second later and Garrett tensed like he had before, but it felt too good. He turned into Jonah’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t do that, I’m sorry, darlin’.” Jonah rubbed Garrett’s back slowly and rhythmically.

“My father gave up everything for me…” That was all Garrett managed before his throat closed off.

“I understand. He’s your dad, of course you’ve gotta go. I didn’t mean to start a fight.” Jonah kissed Garrett’s temple. “Better finish packin’.” He drew back from Garrett and squeezed his shoulders briefly before letting go. “Y’all right?”

Garrett cleared his throat, with some difficulty. “Close enough.”

“Good.” Jonah glanced over at the storage kit. “You want help in here?”

“Please.”

They packed the rest of Garrett’s things in silence, exchanging brief touches here and there, but they were friendly touches, not particularly warm ones. They were comforting but not really loving. Garrett felt the distance but there wasn’t anything he could do to bridge it, not when this was Jonah’s chosen way of dealing with Garrett leaving. Almost immediately after they were done packing Garrett’s com signaled him.

“Your ship is prepped and ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” He took the communicator off and set it on the bedside table. “I won’t need that until I get back. Will you hold onto it for me?”

“Sure.” Jonah glanced down at it, then back at Garrett. “Until then.”

“Right.”

“Hope your family pulls through this okay, darlin’.”

“Me too.”

“Let us know how you are, all right?”

“I will,” Garrett promised, his arms shaking with the urge to pull Jonah into his grasp and never let him go. He didn’t want to face this alone, he really didn’t, but there was no way he could ask Jonah and Cody to come with him. He filled his arms with his belongings instead and walked out into the living room.

The goodbye with Cody was long and loud, and by the time Garrett got to his ship his shirt was damp with a child’s tears and he felt so low that the autodoc on his ship insisted on giving him a mood enhancer before allowing him to pilot it. It was raining as he pulled out of the Neptune’s hangar, pouring down in hard sheets, and outside of the environmental shields the rain fell twice as hard. Garrett accelerated into the upper atmosphere and watched the water peel away, the final few droplets freezing against the hull as he emerged into space. The dark blue and purple of Pandora drew back, and as he accelerated away Garrett numbly mused that the planet was actually quite beautiful, much more so than he remembered it being when he first arrived.

Very beautiful. But gone in minutes.

So...

*cough cough*

So, Cari... *twiddles fingers*  What's up?  And, um, why aren't we reading new and exciting things on your blog?

Ah.  Yeah.  I could blame life, but mostly I blame myself.  I haven't finished the next part of Pandora and I don't have any new information on story acceptances or cover art or anything, but several of you seemed to enjoy the snippet of Different Spheres I posted last time, so how about I give you some more?  (Thanks for the comments, ladies)  I haven't heard one way or the other about this story yet, but if I keep on posting it here I'll invalidate its publishing mojo, so perhaps that will spur me into getting my tail in gear.

This snippet is a direct continuation of the previous one, which might be a little confusing if you didn't read the other.  Just sayin'.

***

Shortly afterwards Warren came back, his footstep soft but still audible on the hardwood floors. “Not your style, huh?”


“Not…really.”

“Here, let me finish it off and we’ll go.” Warren gently took the mug and a moment later Gil could hear it being drained. How long did it take to develop a natural equivalent to asbestos in one’s digestive tract? It had to be the work of a lifetime.

The mug was set down on a small table, and then Warren’s hands were on Gil’s arm again and he was leading him out the front door. They walked slowly down the steps and over to the garage, which Warren keyed open. He had a big garage, and half of it was filled with a 1984 Nissan truck that, for some reason, still drew mechanical breath. The other half Gil had never seen before, and it looked like his perfect record wasn’t going to be broken today. The metal smell was stronger in here, rawer, if that made any sense in the context of something like metal. It reminded Gil of the scent of lightning.

Warren opened the passenger door. “Can you make it in all right?”

“I’m sure I can.” Let’s see, there was the frame, he could see the closest edge of that, which meant the seat was…yes, right where it should be. Gil got a grip on the doorframe and pulled himself carefully into the car, wincing as he felt the weakness in his lower legs. That was a recurring problem, but one he could have totally done without today. He settled with a sigh into the seat, closed his eyes and laid his head back against the torn plastic cushion.

Suddenly a strong arm was looping around his waist. Gil’s eyes flashed open immediately and he turned to look at—look towards, at least—Warren. “What…”

Click. “Seatbelt.”

“Oh.” How disappointingly sensible of him. The door shut and Gil endured the silence for a moment before Warren got in on the other side. The truck started with a rumbling purr. In a few seconds they were down the driveway and headed toward the main road. Their houses were part of a small, wooded subdivision in the northern part of Boulder, but the hospital was still only a ten minute drive. Gil searched for a way to pass the time without silence, which Warren seemed to have a thing for but which Gil himself never liked getting too intimate with.

“I appreciate the ride. Usually if it isn’t so bad I drive myself, but today I certainly qualify as a hazard on the road.”

“Who takes you if it is bad?”

“My sister, who before you ask is off celebrating her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in high style on the seven seas, and is unsummonable for another week.”

“You don’t want to give her a heads up?”

“Absolutely not, Peter would never forgive me. Her husband,” Gil added. “I think this is the first time they’ve been on a trip that wasn’t either work-related or included their children in the whole of their marriage. They deserve their peace of mind.”

“She’ll probably be ticked when she gets back.”

“Have you met her?” Gil asked brightly. “It sounds like you know her. And I can handle ticked from my sister better than I can handle ruining her vacation. Noble cause and all that.” He stared at his hands again, spreading his fingers wide. Too many to count, and he couldn’t really count them when they were all blurry anyway.

“She live close?”

“She’s a Boulder native, just like me. She and Peter have a house a little ways up Four Mile Canyon. Mine’s the ancestral homestead.”

“Folks are gone, huh?”

“For the past twelve years,” Gil sighed. He was tired of talking about himself, and wanted to take advantage of having Warren at his mercy while he could. “Whereas you’ve only been in the neighborhood for six months. Where were you before that?”

“South Dakota.”

“I feel you’ve traded up, but that’s just me. What did you do in South Dakota?”

“Firefighter.”

“Good lord.” Mentally Gil slotted Warren’s body in with the paraphernalia of a firefighter. Nearly six feet tall, wiry strength in his deceptively slim build, just put a fireman’s helmet on over that short salt-and-pepper hair and an axe in those hard, capable hands and you had—yes—instant mental pornography the likes of which Gil hadn’t looked at in far too long. A firefighter. Heaven preserve him. “Are you doing that here too?”

“Retired now. I volunteer for the local department, though. You?”

“Oh, I doubt I’d be much use volunteering with a fire department.”

“I meant what do you do,” Warren replied patiently.

Gil knew he was blushing, and he hoped Warren was keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh, right. I’m a professor of Writing and Poetics at Naropa University.”

“You Buddhist?” Gil registered actual surprise in Warren’s normally taciturn voice.

“No, fortunately you don’t have to be much of anything spiritually to work there, which is good as I’m an avowed agnostic who delights in taking the name of the Lord and all his environs in vain. I moonlight as a graduate thesis advisor with a few other universities.” Such as Harvard, Princeton…places he used to work at instead of moonlight for. Places that reluctantly gave you the shaft when it was clear that you couldn’t handle the requisite course load any longer.

“Shoulda guessed.”

“Guessed what?”

“That you’re a writer. You love words.”

Gil hadn’t thought that he had Warren had exchanged enough words up to this point in their relationship for Warren to know that he loved them, but he wasn’t surprised the man was insightful. “I don’t write words so much as assault them these days in the name of improving the writers of tomorrow, but I do enjoy my work.”

This was nice, this back and forth. Gil had another question all ready to go, but then the car stopped. “We’re here,” Warren said. He got out and came around to help Gil down. The brief rush of adrenaline that had pumped him up this morning had evaporated, and Gil felt out on his feet. He closed his eyes, but the world didn’t stop spinning.

“You need a wheelchair?” Warren asked quietly.

“I’d like to say no, but at this point I’m afraid the answer is yes,” Gil replied. Without letting him go, Warren somehow signaled to someone that help was needed and a few minutes later a nurse was there with a chair. Gil sank into it and sighed. Fear licked at the edges of his mind, but he staunchly pushed it back. Breakdowns were for home only, where he could be both alone and ready to comfort himself with literature. Although if he didn’t get his vision back, he was going to have to buy a hell of a lot of audio books.

Upcoming projects and a snippet...because why not?

Hi there!

I've been a little preoccupied lately with getting back a sense of my own Americanness.  Americanosity?  Americanishism?  You know: finding a job, drinking beer without formaldehyde overwhelming the subtle tast of...well, beer, getting a car, enjoying the wide and fulsome variety of food available to us, breaking tiny bones in my foot doing jiu jitsu...which won't stop me from doing more!  Because that's the American Dream, darling.  Doing all sorts of crazy shit to yourself and then having the opportunity to do more of it without dire repercussions.

Just kidding!  Kind of.  I'm trying to be a responsible adult at least 90% of the time.  I'm working, I'm writing, I'm watching my husband construct exotic CNC machines that can carve in three dimensions...yes, he too is happy to be back in the land of easily-findable bits and pieces of high-tech equipment.  As far as the writing goes, which I know is what you're all really interested in, I have the following coming up:

--more Pandora (part 24 or 25 I think...coming this weekend)
--A Blinded Mind, a novella coming out with Dreamspinner in October
--a novel continuation of Opening Worlds (in the Wild Passions antho) due in December
--a follow-up for Shadowed, which I'm still working out the details of with Pink Petal Books
--a couple of short stories thatI've submitted to a few different presses...  in fact, let me give you a taste of one of them.  It's not contracted yet, and if it doesn't get a contract in the next month or so I'll just post it here.  I have several things in my archives that will probably be going up here in the next while, stuff that I can't continue revising.

Anyway, here's a snippet from Different Spheres.

***

Gil Donaldson woke up, rolled over in his chilly bed, looked at his bedside clock and blinked. He looked again, blinked again, then looked at his hands. Then, in a move entirely atypical for him, he engaged in some cathartic profanity. “Fucking goddamn it.”


Every time, every single time this happened—and it was happening more frequently these days—Gil rued the day he had decided to date a statistician. The relationship had ended years ago, but the man’s interminable reliance on numbers and percentages had somehow rubbed off on Gil, to the point that when he had a relapse the first thing he did (after visiting the hospital, getting pumped up on steroids and going through the circus act that was assessing his new place on the EDSS; after all Gil did have a modicum of sense) was to check the online research compendiums for the newest findings about multiple sclerosis. He had tables that compared numbers from the professional journals Lancet, Neurology and, he was ashamed to admit it and never would unless viciously tortured, Wikipedia. He had the National Institute of Health’s website bookmarked several times on his laptop. His library was filled with books, and they multiplied along with Gil’s scleroses with every relapse.

He had sort of felt this coming on, but he’d been holding out hope it wasn’t what he thought. Gil had spent all of yesterday nursing a growing headache, thinking he was coming down with a sinus infection or, if he was lucky, just a cold. He had taken some pills and gone to bed early, hoping that he would be better in the morning. Instead he woke up and saw double of everything.

After allowing himself a brief moment of justifiable panic, Gil had stumbled out of bed, put himself together as best he could and called Tally. Then he had mentally smacked himself for forgetting where she was, hung up his phone and, after assessing his options, walked very carefully one house down and knocked on his neighbor’s front door.

The door opened after a half a minute or so, letting out the scent of strong coffee, metal and sawdust. It was a very masculine smell, and perfectly suited Gil’s neighbor. It was a shame Gil’s vision was blurry as well as doubled, because he wouldn’t have minded seeing two of Warren Masters clearly.

“Gil?” He could practically hear the appearance of those two questioning lines between Warren’s eyebrows. The two of them were courteous neighbors, but they had never gone out of their way to hang out before. “What’s up?”

“Hi, good morning.” Pleasantries out of the way, Gil plunged right in. “I need you to drive me to the hospital. Please.”

“What’s wrong?” Mmm, you could build a ship out of the timbres of this man’s voice. A terse interrogative that nevertheless resonated with concern, heightened awareness and an increased sense of camaraderie all at once. God, he sounded delicious. Gil forced himself to focus.

“I’m having trouble seeing this morning.”

All of a sudden there was a strong hand under his right elbow, supporting him. Under other circumstances that sort of touch would have been really nice. As it was, it was kind of sad that Gil needed it, because he actually did feel more than a little dizzy at this point. “You think it’s a stroke?”

A stroke? “Oh no,” Gil reassured his neighbor. “No, it’s nothing like that. No, I have…” Wait, didn’t Warren know about his condition? It seemed like Gil must have told the man at some point, he’d been living in the house next door for almost six months, but maybe he had never gotten around to it. Maybe he had wanted to see how long he could fool someone who didn’t know him.

“I have MS. Multiple sclerosis,” Gil clarified finally. “I’m just having a relapse, that’s all. A few shots and I’ll be fine, but I do need to go to the hospital. The one on 4th Street would be perfect, that’s where my regular doctor works.”

Warren, man of few words that he was, nevertheless made an effort. “Give me three minutes. I’ve just gotta finish getting dressed.”

He wasn’t dressed yet? Seriously? Gil squinted, but that didn’t improve the blur by much. He sighed. “I can wait here.”

“Not gonna leave you on the porch, Gil,” Warren said exasperatedly. “There’s a chair right inside the door. Six inch step up to get in, don’t trip.”

Honestly, with Warren’s hands guiding him Gil didn’t think there was much chance of him tripping, but he was careful anyway. The last thing he needed right now was a broken whatever on top of temporary near-blindness. Hopefully temporary near-blindness.

This house wasn’t cold like Gil’s but his hands still felt clammy. Strange. A second later Warren pressed a mug of coffee into them. “Help yourself. It’s fresh brewed, black. I’ll be out in a minute.” Then he was gone and Gil was left with his hands warming around a cup of coffee that, if he was lucky, had had Warren Masters’ lips on it this morning. He sampled the coffee. God, strong. Ugh, no, God wasn’t enough deity to properly encapsulate the strength that was this coffee. This coffee was Olympic, Titanic and Chthonic all at once, and just as hard to swallow. Gil choked back his single sip and felt it burn the whole way down. Well, now at least he knew his sinuses would stay clear.

Pandora Post #23

Title: Pandora



Part Twenty-Three: Planning for Future Use



Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. Dirty yummy R-rated sci-fi in this one. Plot wise we’re getting really close to some major ups ‘n downs. I’ll work my tail off in September to keep you satisfied:)

Happy Labor Day!





***









“You’ll just feel a little pinch…”

“That is not a little pinch,” Garrett said through gritted teeth. “That’s a big fucking pinch inside of my skull.”

“I offered to put you out,” Dr. Reynaud reminded him as she attached the optic nerve to his new left eye. “We could stop with this one for today, you know. You could do the other one tomorrow, Garrett.”

“Once is enough,” he groaned, “just finish it fast.”

“One more minute,” Dr. Reynaud promised. Garrett felt the forceps move to his right socket, heard the scrape of metal on metal and then felt the cool dampness of his new eye being inserted into his head. There was another sharp pinch, the slithering sensation of tubes withdrawing and then a damp cloth was wiping at his cheeks.

“A little seepage,” Dr. Reynaud murmured, “but overall I think it went really well.” Once she was done she put a mask over Garrett’s eyes. “No using these until I’m sure the transfer has settled. You have to stay here in recovery for six hours. Once the mask comes off you should expect light sensitivity to be a problem for a few days, and remember that the color of the irises will change a bit.”

“Six hours?”

“Six hours,” Dr. Reynaud affirmed before walking away.

“Lovely.” Garrett kept his face neutral until Rickie was gone, then sighed. Six hours. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected that, but Jonah was still at work and Cody was playing at a friend’s new house “outside”, so Garrett was alone. Which meant he’d be bored. Yeah, he had holos and books he could listen to, but nothing was so entertaining these days as his guys.

Ah, well. Time for some preemptive personal psychotherapy. Garrett opened up his journal, which he’d grabbed off of the bedside table before being brought to the infirmary.

“Ready to record?” the cartoon voice boomed.

“Ready.”

“Journal record number forty-four, recording.”

“So, I now have the attention span of a six year old,” Garrett told his journal. “I blame Jonah completely. Two weeks of living with him and Cody and anyone would be ready for the next great thing after fifteen minutes. Cody is exhausting and don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. He’s also great, don’t get me wrong, but I have no idea how Jonah is raising him on his own. Then again, when the village rejects you, what can you do but go on?” He stopped for a second, considering how he wanted to record the next part. Pissy and annoyed was definitely an option, but that wasn’t how Garrett wanted to immortalize himself. “It’s finally their turn to get a house Outside. Cody’s really excited about it; they went looking at their options on Jonah’s last day off. I didn’t go with them. It’s not like I could offer an opinion on wherever they’re going to be living, I was blind at the time. They both wanted me to go anyway, though…

“They want me, and I love them, but I can’t stay here,” Garrett murmured, feeling the bone-deep ache of melancholy settle into him. “I just can’t. This place isn’t me. The entertainment is minimal and insipid, the luxuries are practically nonexistent and there aren’t very many options for enlightening personal discourse outside of holo films. There’s no university here, there are very few options for continuing education, there’s no real way to travel except by leaving the fucking planet, and that’s not advised more than twice a year due to ‘potential health risks’ for naturals. And it’s not like Jonah and I could go anywhere without Cody.

“Actually, you know what I really want? I just want to freeze things right now. With all of us living together on the ship, no pressure to integrate into Pandoran society, all of us healthy—you know, mostly—and my family safe. Now is great. Now is…it’s almost perfect.” It’s so close to perfect.

Garrett rubbed his shoulder absently. He had a vague suspicion that if Wyl was here he would be punching Garrett’s arm right now and giving him advice that he didn’t want to hear but that still had value. Fuck, but Garrett missed him. Wyl and Robbie and his dad and Claudia. Everyone.

“Hey, doll.”

Garrett immediately shut off the recorder, turning towards the source of the voice. “Who’s that?”

“Who do you think, doll?”

Garrett smiled despite himself. Nothing lifted you out of the blues like a snarky teenager. “Tamara Carson, I presume.”

“Yeah.” Her tone was swollen with the sullenness of someone who had no desire to be doing what she was doing, but did it nonetheless.

“And you’re here to…what, insult me into feeling better?”

The girl blew out an exasperated sigh. “No. I have to do mandatory community service and I could either do it on ship in the infirmary or at the kindergarten out in the Box. And I hate it out there.”

“In the city?”

“It’s not a city,” Tamara scoffed, “it’s a fucking block. And Pandora City is a stupid name for a capitol anyway.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Garrett said noncommittally. “Why do you have mandatory community service? Did you break into another ship?”

The silence provided its own answer. “What, again? Really?”

“It’s only the second time I’ve ever been caught!” Tamara replied hotly, coming a little closer. Garrett heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. “I’ve broken into dozens of ships without anyone knowing. You just got lucky that one time.”

“Lucky?” Garrett arched a pale, barely-there eyebrow. “You were breaking into my ship in the middle of a room filled with thousands of people. And I don’t care how good your friends are at spotting, which by the way they weren’t, nobody is going to ignore a large group of loitering teenagers who are trying to look innocent.”

“Yeah, well…maybe. I was in a bad mood that night.”

“I could tell,” Garrett said, “but being in a mood is no excuse for doing sloppy work. I take it that you got caught this last time?”

“Yeah.” The words seemed to pour out of her suddenly. Garrett wondered if it was easier to speak to him because he was still technically blind and couldn’t meet her eyes, or if it was just because he was taking the time to listen. “I would never mess with one of the regular runners because I know the pilots need those to be solid all the time, but I’m so fucking bored in school here and my dad is always busy anyway and I already knew I could break into your ship, so the only other private vessel I could find was Senator Dowd’s. I got past her first couple layers of security and made it all the way into the ship but then her thermal sensor ratted me out. She and my dad had been having dinner over some kind of planning meeting and the security officers brought me right to them and I thought my dad was going to lose it. They’re thinking about expanding into a new area,” Tamara added casually. “I bet my dad wants to name it Carsonville, because then he’d have left something behind that would last. He wants Pandora to be his legacy.”

Garrett couldn’t help snorting a little.

“I know, some legacy, right? I told him he should have another kid if he wants someone to carry his name for a couple centuries, and then he told me that I was enough and why would I think that and blah blah blah, but it’s true! He always wanted his kid to go into the military. Know what a natural can’t do? Go into the military.” Garrett heard a low thump, like something being kicked. “We also can’t become exploratory scientists, medical doctors, government pilots or even colonists for any place other than this rock. We can’t become professional athletes because our bodies can’t take the training and competition. We can’t learn deepwater diving or mining or spend too much time in a weightless atmosphere. We can’t do anything cool. Everything about us sucks.”

Well, that was a low pronouncement if ever he’d heard one. “When I was a kid I was put into a mental hospital for a while,” Garrett said casually. “One of the other kids there was a natural. He hadn’t done anything stupid to himself like I had, he was just depressed, and we got to know each other while I was there. He was incredibly smart, a lot smarter than me, which I say with all due modesty makes him a genius.

“I kept up with him afterwards. He ended up getting hired by the government to be a covert operative in the central system, searching out slavers who were selling and transporting people to the Fringe. Slavers like targeting naturals, even though they don’t live as long under rough working conditions, because naturals kind of slip through the cracks, you know? A lot of them are ashamed of their condition so they tend to be reclusive, or work out of their homes. A lot of them don’t have families. It makes them much easier targets than the average Federation citizen. They’re much less likely to be missed, and less likely to be searched for once they are missed. The last time Rory and I spoke he was retiring after a very long and satisfying career helping thousands of people.”

“So he was like a Federation spy?” There was a note of interest in Tamara’s voice.

“Yep. He was totally innocuous looking, you know? Usually he played up the “poor little me” natural thing so he could lure people in, and then once they fell for it, they never got away. Rory was an amazing guy. He could break into almost anywhere, he was a master of disguise, he was a trained pilot and a sniper and he could make explosives out of anything—”

“They taught him how to do all that?” Tamara broke in.

“Most of it. Some of it he picked up living on the Fringe for over a decade. Pandora,” Garrett waved one hand around as though to encompass their current situation, “is on the Fringe but not really in the Fringe, if you take my meaning. Only one small colony with a highly specialized population? Not a good place to set up a smuggler’s den, not when the weather is so damn bad all the time. But there are other places out here that are crawling with pirates and smugglers and body snatchers and slavers and a whole host of perversions that I’m sure you’d rather not hear about.”

“No, you can tell me!”

“No, seriously, you don’t want to know, you won’t sleep for a week,” Garrett promised her. “How about I tell you how to beat a thermal sensor instead?”

“I already know about reflective blankets,” Tamara sighed. “It was a tight fit getting into her ship as it was, I would just have torn a blanket up.”

“Next time use thermal paint.”

“Isn’t that toxic?”

“It isn’t when applied over a bodysuit,” Garrett replied. “You won’t be able to make a proper reflective suit out here, but I know for a fact that the science lab has gallons of that paint stored away. Spray it on over some tight-fitting gear and add a facemask once you get on board. As long as you’re in and out in less than five minutes, most thermal systems won’t pick up the heat of your breath.”

“Cool.” The chair scootched forward a little more. “What else?”

They kept talking until Jonah showed up hours later. He was apparently just in time to hear Garrett detailing to Tamara how to jury-rig a personal antigrav unit out of an old ship’s compressor and a plastic sheet.

“That’s more’n a little dangerous though, isn’t it?” Jonah commented as Garrett stopped for breath. He and Tamara both made faint noises of surprise.

“Homemade antigrav units are always dangerous,” Garrett said after a moment, “but that doesn’t mean they can’t be useful sometimes. I made this one when I was fifteen. I threw it off of a building and it hovered for more than three minutes before the motor gave out.”

“Were you shootin’ for a three minute trial?”

“Five,” Garrett confessed with a smile.

“Lucky you weren’t wearing it, then,” Jonah said, coming over and sitting down on Garrett’s bed. “I got permission from Rickie to spring you a little early, if you want to head home now.”

Garrett paused, hearing Tamara sigh. “Yes, I do want to head home. Tamara, let me know when you have your next shift here, okay? I’ll tell you five different ways to build a flamethrower.”

“Cool. Um, so, bye.” Overly tall boots clomped away quickly.

Jonah chuckled and ran his hands down Garrett’s arms. “You’re kinda a bad influence on her, you know.”

“I’m a creative influence,” Garrett corrected, standing up and leaning into Jonah’s embrace. “She needs an outlet for her intelligence and creativity or she’s going to go crazy cooped up here.”

“Sensin’ a kindred spirit?” Jonah suggested lightly, but Garrett could feel him tense up. Garrett chose to change the subject.

“How long before I can rejoin the ranks of the sighted?”

“’Nother half an hour or so,” Jonah said. “It’ll be just us tonight, though. Cody’s stayin’ over at a friend’s house. Our new neighbors have a kid in his class.”

Garrett suddenly felt chilled. “You found a place you want to take, then.”

“It’s a nice little berth. Three bedroom, two bathrooms, all hooked into Pandora’s grid…it’s really close to the park, and the playground.”

“Oh, the playground.” That was one place that Garrett had visited, although he’d been blind for all of it. He’d pushed Cody on the swing for a while before Jonah had convinced him to take a turn. It was old fashioned equipment, deliberately squeaky and quaint. “I’m sure Cody loves that.” Shit, shit, shit.

“Yeah.” After a moment Jonah placed a kiss on Garrett’s temple, then backed away. “C’mon, let’s make our way back home. I’ll make you dinner.”

“I’ll be able to see in half an hour, I might make you dinner instead.”

“After all the warnin’s you’ve given me about your cookin’? Thanks but no thanks, darlin’, I’d rather do the honors tonight.”

“Probably smart,” Garrett agreed.

They walked slowly back to Jonah’s apartment. It was nice not having to use the wheelchair in public, and Garrett never felt insecure when he was holding on to Jonah’s arm. Once they were in the apartment Garrett took over their motion and started pulling Jonah towards the bedroom.

“I thought you were hungry,” his lover protested with a laugh.

“I am, but not for food. How long until the bandage comes off?” Garrett asked eagerly.

“Twenty minutes.”

“I can make twenty minutes fly by if I’m giving you a blowjob.”

“Fuck, Garrett,” Jonah muttered, grabbing him and pulling him back so that their chests were flush. “You…”

“Don’t you want me not to fret?’ Garrett offered, running one of his agile hands down Jonah’s chest and over the crotch of his jeans, cupping the growing hardness there. “Don’t you want me nice and relaxed?”

“More likely to be relaxin’ for me than for you, darlin’.”

“I can come from blowing you,” Garrett promised him. “I want to come that way. I want you to lie down and let me play with you and jerk you and suck you and make you feel perfect.”

“It’s always perfect with you,” Jonah confessed. “Never felt anything like it.”

Garrett pulled his mind away from the obvious love in Jonah’s voice, from the dangerous commitment it hinted of, and back to sex. “We haven’t christened this hall yet, have we…”

“Not in the hall,” Jonah replied firmly, keeping Garrett from going to his knees. “With my luck I’ll fall over and hit my head, or Cody will suddenly come home or somethin’.”

“How about the couch, then?” Garrett said. For some reason he wasn’t anxious to go back to the intimacy that was Jonah’s—their—bed, not yet.

“It is closer,” Jonah mused.

“A valid consideration, so the couch wins.” A few seconds later he had Jonah sitting, and a second after that he was sinking down, sliding his body over his lover’s as he dropped to his knees. Jonah moved restlessly, his fingers working their way again and again through Garrett’s short hair as Garrett pushed Jonah’s legs apart. He undid Jonah’s fly and freed his erection, leaned forward and hovered over the tip for a long moment, unmoving, just breathing moist, hot breaths over the head. God, Jonah smelled so good, like musk and sweat and warmth. Pursing his lips, Garrett placed a gentle kiss on the head, then trailed his mouth down the shaft until his lips brushed Jonah’s sac.

“You have no idea what lookin’ at you like this does to me,” Jonah husked. “Garrett, you look…” He trailed off into a groan of frustration as Garrett took him in one warm hand and stroked him, softly at first, gradually quickening. “Take me in,” he whispered.

Garrett didn’t reply, just smiled and flicked his tongue out, tasting his lover, lapping up the wetness that gathered at the tip of Jonah’s cock. Just before Jonah started to beg Garrett opened his mouth and inched down Jonah’s length, cataloguing every millimeter of it with lips and tongue. When he couldn’t see what he was doing, he relied on every other sense so much. Garrett had played around with sensory deprivation, of course, but it was different knowing that you couldn’t look. Knowing that he had no recourse was an incredible turn on, even though technically he probably could use his new eyes now.

Garrett sucked Jonah slowly, opening his throat on the down strokes to take him all the way in and licking his way back up before his lips crested at the head. He fondled Jonah’s balls, rolling and tugging and pulling them down when Jonah got too close, and the whole time he didn’t lay a hand on himself. The only touch Garrett got was Jonah’s knees pressed against his shoulders and his hands, his big, warm hands, tracing over the curves of Garrett’s head, moving with him, not forcing him down or deeper or faster but just taking everything he had to offer and cherishing it. It felt amazing, being held like that, and that was why when Garrett felt Jonah’s breathing really pick up the pace and felt the fluttering that meant his lover was coming start in his abdomen, he let his own iron control go and tightened his abdomen and groin and came, without touching himself, right into the scrubs he’d been forced to put on in the infirmary. A second later Jonah followed, filling Garrett’s mouth with his seed. Garrett heard his name as a long, drawn-out groan, and he swallowed and smiled and pulled away just far enough to lay his head against Jonah’s thigh.

“Holy shit.”

“I like being able to provoke that reaction,” Garrett informed Jonah a little muzzily.

“Did you—”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Garrett shrugged. “Practice. Motivation. You being you. Take your pick.”

“You’re a man of many talents.”

“I am,” Garrett agreed with a smile. “Hey, has it been twenty minutes?”

“Nearly,” Jonah replied after a moment. “Get up here.” He pulled Garrett up onto his lap and it didn’t matter that he was sticky and probably smelly and soon to be uncomfortable, at the moment it was absolutely perfect.

The video com beeped. “New message,” Jonah commented as he stroked up and down Garrett’s back.

“For you or for me?” They had started routing all of Garrett’s incoming calls over here a week ago.

“Looks like it’s for you. From Paradise.”

Garrett snuggled closer. “Does it say from who?”

“From Miles.”

“From my dad?” Garrett pulled back a little. “That’s strange. He never sends me messages. They either come through Claudia or we talk directly.”

“Want me to play it?”

“Sure.” Jonah shifted, and a moment later the message began.

“Hey, Gare.” It was Miles, and he sounded tired but also really, really…god, what was that? “I want to get back to Claudia before she wakes up so I only have time for a short message. Claudia went into labor last night, and an hour ago we delivered your new little sister. This is Renee,” and there was that tone again, and now Garrett recognized it. It was the tone that meant love. “Renee Emmanuelle. She’s seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long and cries fit to wake the dead, and she’s the newest member of our family that can’t wait to see you in person. We’re looking forward to your return, son. Claudia sends her love. I’ll call again once I can get all the family together.” The beep indicated that the message was over.

“Oh,” Garrett whispered. “Oh.” He turned towards Jonah. “Is she beautiful?”

“You can look for yourself,” Jonah said, and his voice was very soft. “It’s been twenty minutes.” He reached behind Garrett’s head and pull the mask’s adhesions loose, then slowly withdrew it away from Garrett’s face. The lights were low but Garrett was still cautious opening his eyes all the way. Blurriness slowly resolved as he blinked. The first face Garrett sought out was Jonah’s, seeking reassurance even though he wasn’t sure why.

“Do they look all right?”

“They’re violet,” Jonah murmured, framing Garrett’s face with his hands. “Like a newborn’s eyes.” He kissed Garrett gently. “You’re perfect. Incredible.”

“I missed seeing you,” Garrett confessed.

“Missed seein’ you too, darlin’.” Jonah kissed him again, then turned towards the vid screen. “Go on and take a look at your family.”

Garrett turned and saw the final still frame of his father’s message. Miles looked tired, but he was smiling down at the baby cradled in his arms. The baby’s eyes were turned towards the camera though, and Garrett could see that they were violet too, wide open and staring in that blankly curious way that babies had. Renee had black hair that stuck up in every direction, and apart from that she was pink and chubby and very much an infant. His little sister.

“She is beautiful,” Garrett said. He stared a little longer at the still. “He looks happy, doesn’t he?”

“Your dad? Yeah, darlin’. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Were you happy?” Garrett asked, turning to look at his lover. “When you got to hold Cody, despite everything?”

“The first time I picked him up changed me,” Jonah said seriously. “I knew what he was, knew the problems, but holdin’ him…there’s no better feeling in the world than holding your child for the first time, knowin’ they’re yours. It’s scary as hell, but it’s amazing too.”

“It must be,” Garrett said, glancing back at the picture. There was so much possibility in a baby, all future and hope and nothing to look back on with regret. He shuddered, suddenly getting a taste of that fear Jonah had mentioned, and that his father had to be feeling even now. So much opportunity that could go in so many different ways…amazing, but scary as hell.

“It must be.”