(fic) chasing starlight (4/5)
Dec. 11th, 2009 06:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
violaceaPart One
Part Two
Part Three
It took them one full day to reach the intersection, and another day and a half to reach the space around Nariall. Bob had never traveled to the home planet of a Lane family before, but even so, the lack of communication worried him. "Brian traveled to the McCoy home planet once," he told Mikey, "and they sent him a message when he was four beacons out, asking him for his travel permissions before they'd activate the final three beacons to let him pass." They passed by the second-last beacon with continued radio silence. Not for the first time, Bob opened a comm channel and sent the same message he'd been sending for hours. "Captain Bob Bryar calling Nariall comm center. Emergency landing clearance requested. Please respond." He was answered with the same nothing he'd already heard.
"Where are they?" Mikey asked. He leaned his elbows on the console and stared out into the black, as if he expected an answer to appear in front of him.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Bob set course for the final beacon and sent a silent prayer to the Lady. If no one responded there, then the ship was dead in space. Unless Nariall had been compromised, in which case ... well, that wasn't something Bob wanted to think about.
They spent the next couple of hours in silence. When they approached the last beacon, Bob looked over at Mikey. "Last chance."
"Shit," Mikey said under his breath. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair, eyes on Bob as he keyed in the code to broadcast again.
"Captain Bob Bryar calling Nariall comm center. Emergency landing ..."
Loud static interrupted him before he could finish the message. A moment later, a voice came over the comm. "State your business, Captain. This is restricted space."
"I'm traveling on special clearance from Clandestine, with an important message for the Way family."
"Please halt your ship. Transmit your clearance and your message and await response."
Bob stopped the ship, but shook his head at Mikey when he opened his mouth to speak. "I've been instructed to speak exclusively to Lindsey Ballato or Ray Toro. I will transmit only to one of them." He silenced the comm and waved off Mikey's frown. "Pete's advice."
Mikey nodded as the voice came back on. "The Chief and Mr. Toro are unavailable. Please transmit your message. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take measures."
"Measures?" Mikey asked.
"I don't think I want to know," Bob muttered. He opened the comm channel again. "Negative. If you need confirmation of my clearance, you can contact Clandestine's communication room."
The channel was silent for several moments. "Outside confirmation is impossible at this time," the voice finally replied. "Please reverse your course and leave Nariall space."
"Negative," Bob repeated. "I'm staying here until I'm allowed to deliver my message."
The channel fell silent again. Mikey stood up and paced across the cockpit. "What if they ..."
"What? Shoot us?" Bob shrugged with more carelessness than he felt. "I don't think they will. Hell, I'm not sure they even can at this point."
"Why?"
"I think their long-range communications have been knocked out. Otherwise, we would have gotten this whole spiel four beacons ago. If their communications aren't functional, chances are better than average that their spaceport's defense mechanisms are malfunctioning, too."
"You want to bet on that?"
Bob hesitated for a moment. "I have to, I guess."
Mikey made a noise in the back of his throat and turned to face the opposite wall. Bob turned back to his console and willed the comm to blink with an incoming message again.
They waited for what seemed like an eternity. Bob was ready to crawl out of his own skin by the time the light came back on. "Captain Bryar." This time, the voice was female, with steel running through every word. "This is Lindsey Ballato. Please transmit your clearance and your message, or I'll be forced to disable your ship. Acknowledge."
Bob looked back at Mikey. "Pete told me this woman was someone you can trust. Do we trust that's actually true?"
"Do we have any other choice?"
Bob shrugged in agreement, then stood and walked away from the console. Mikey sat down in his place, and after several deep breaths, pressed the button to speak. "This is Mikey Way," he said, his voice shaky. "Please let us land."
The response was almost immediate. "Mikey?" The woman's voice changed to something more urgent. "Mikey, is that really you?"
"Yeah. I mean, that's what they tell me."
"What?"
Bob leaned over the console. "Ma'am, he's under the influence of a memory loss drug. Please let us land, he needs attention from your physicians."
There was another moment of radio silence. Then, "Our scans indicate that your ship has no weaponry."
"No, this is a personal cruiser, we have no defenses. The only weapon on board is one pulse gun."
"When you land, you will come out without the pulse gun," the woman responded. "Mikey will come out first. If we see anyone other than Mikey, my guards will have orders to shoot on sight. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." Bob leaned against the console and watched as the landing authorizaiton appeared on the screen in front of him. He initiated the landing procedures while he stood; Mikey sat in his chair and stared blankly at the now-dark comm light. "You okay?"
"I guess."
"You're going home. That's good, right?"
"I guess," Mikey repeated. He looked up at Bob. "Is it weird to admit that I'm more scared now than I have been since you found me?"
"No. No, it's not." Bob sighed and ruffled Mikey's hair. "I am, too."
They rode into the Nariall spaceport in silence.
Bob chose to stay several steps behind Mikey when they walked out of the ship. Thus, he heard the woman yell "Mikey!!" before he got to the top of the ramp. When he stepped out, he saw a woman - black hair, with tattoos covering both arms - running up the ramp. She stopped just short of Mikey and put her hands on his shoulders. "Mikey, it's you. You're really home."
Mikey didn't respond. Bob made his way cautiously to where they were standing, mindful of the half dozen men surrounding the ramp with pulse guns trained on him. "Ma'am," he began.
She released Mikey and pulled her own pulse gun out of its holster. "Who are you, and why did you have Mikey?"
At this, Mikey put a hand on her arm. "He saved me. Please don't ... he saved me."
She looked at Mikey, then back at Bob. "Captain Bryar ..." She changed her mind and looked back at Mikey. "You don't remember me. Or anything." It wasn't a question.
"No. Not until a few days ago. I'm sorry."
She looked back at Bob, gun still trained on him, but continued to address Mikey. "Then how do you know that he actually saved you? How do you know that he's not working with the people who took you?"
"Ma'am," Bob interrupted. He held up his hands. "I'm unarmed. Search me, do whatever you need to do. But I'd really prefer to have this conversation without an audience." He looked around; many spaceport workers had crept up behind the guard team and were watching the proceedings with wide eyes.
The woman - Lindsey, Bob reminded himself - stared at him for a long moment. Then, she jerked the gun in a motion that indicated he should walk in front of her. "Go." Mikey fell into step next to Bob, which earned them both an irritated noise. When Bob looked back, Lindsey gestured to a door at the far side of the bay. "Over there. You," she said to one of the guards as they began to walk. "Search his ship. Make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for us. And call Ray and tell him to meet us in reception lounge 4."
The reception lounge, as it turned out, was a nondescript room with furniture that fell just short of being comfortable. When they closed the door, Lindsey holstered her gun and placed her hands on either side of Mikey's face. "Bright Lady," she said, a hitch in her voice. "We were afraid you were dead."
"I don't think that was their game," Mikey replied. He put hands tentatively over hers. She pulled away from his face and grasped his hands for a short moment before stepping back and pacing across the room.
"It wasn't," Bob said. He watched as Lindsey turned and focused her attention on him, eyes narrow. "If they'd killed him, they would have never gotten paid."
"I know it was Apex," she snapped. "They contacted us for the ransom. But then -" Lindsey shut her mouth and scowled. "I still don't know who you are."
"Captain Bob Bryar. I work for Avalon Shipping. My coworkers and I ... well, let's just say we have a vested interest in foiling plans made by Apex." When Lindsey didn't respond, Bob spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "If you want, you can call Clandestine. The Wentzes will vouch for me."
Lindsey rubbed her face and turned away. "We can't."
"What?" Bob had figured out the problem, but he waited to hear her tell it.
"We can't call Clandestine. Or anywhere. Something killed our long-range communications array. So you'll forgive me if I'm not able to check your references right now. And if I think it's really damned convenient that you showed up with Mikey while all hell is breaking loose."
"Hey, we've been trying to get someone to call you since we left Genara," Bob protested. "Which you can believe or not believe, because I obviously can't prove it."
"Obviously. Stand up." When Bob complied, she crossed the room to him and grabbed his arm. "You know, I don't trust you. So I'm going to have someone take you somewhere nice and secure while we figure out just what the hell happened to Mikey."
"Hey, this is kind of bullshit ..." Mikey started, crossing his arms over his chest.
Bob cut him off. "It's okay. I can go. I get the feeling she's got a right to be paranoid."
"Yeah, well, so do I." Mikey stepped between them and shoved Lindsey backwards. Lindsey froze, staring at Mikey with wide eyes. Mikey turned back to Bob. "I don't fucking remember anything until, what, five days ago? And in those five days, you've done nothing but help me. You've helped me, and Gabe and the rest of them at Cobra helped me, and Pete and Ashlee helped me. But when happens when I get 'home'?" he asked, sneering at the word. "I watch them treat you like a fucking criminal. And that's entirely fucking bullshit. So," he said, turning to address Lindsey, "as far as I'm concerned, right now the only difference between you and the jackasses who did this to me is that this room is cleaner than the cell they had me in." Suddenly, the energy drained out of Mikey, and he sat down in a chair, eyes downcast. "I wish we'd stayed at Clandestine," he muttered.
Bob pulled his attention away from Mikey to look at Lindsey. She'd brought her hand up to her mouth, but her eyes shone with an emotion that made him nod to her. She threw up her hands and turned away.
At that moment, the door opened and a man rushed in; Bob only had the chance to register large, curly hair and a rumpled suit before he turned and noticed Mikey. "Lady Bright, it's ..."
"Yes, it's me." Mikey spoke in a monotone as he continued to stare at the floor. "I'm home, apparently, but I don't remember jack shit. I certainly don't remember you. I've had a really fucking long week, but go ahead and interrogate Bob like he killed someone, because it's apparently what you people do around here."
The man stopped in his tracks, mouth open. He glanced over at Lindsey, who simply shook her head and dropped into another chair. "I don't fucking know, Ray," she said. "I really don't know what the hell is happening here today."
"That makes four of us, I think," Bob said.
"Does someone want to back up and tell me how Mikey got here?" Ray asked.
"Bob brought me," Mikey said, before anyone else could speak. "But now she wants to lock him up for it."
"Fuck, Mikey, I don't ..." Lindsey blew out a frustrated breath. "You have no idea what's going on around here."
"I don't have any idea of what's going on anywhere right now, which really fucking sucks. It'd be nice if you actually explained it instead of just waving your gun around and being all intimidating."
"Okay, fine." Lindsey started ticking things off on her fingers. "You disappeared. We found out you were somehow taken by Apex, under all our noses. It's apparently over a business deal, which has just about killed your brother. In the middle of negotiations, Apex stopped talking to us and our communcations array blew up. So we've been sitting here in the dark for the past few days, going absolutely fucking crazy. Suddenly, you miraculously show up with this guy we don't know, and I don't trust miracles, okay? So fuck off."
"Does Gerard know he's here?" Ray asked. Bob watched his face cycle through a variety of emotions, as his gaze flicked back and forth between Mikey and Lindsey.
"Not yet. I wanted to figure out if anything here was a trap. He's vulnerable enough as it is right now, Ray."
"I know." Ray turned to Bob, blinking as if it was the first time he noticed that someone else was in the room. "Bob, I assume?"
"That's me." He turned to Mikey, laying a hand on his shoulder. Mikey looked up at him. "Listen," Bob said, "she's got a point. I wouldn't really trust me either, if I was in her position. So let them take you to see your brother. I'll stay wherever they tell me to."
"No." Mikey brushed his hand off of his shoulder. "Here's the thing. If I was taken under their noses, like she said, then someone around here had to help Apex do it, right? Or else their security is so bad that kidnappers can just waltz right in." He rolled his eyes in Lindsey's direction. "They might not trust you, but I don't trust them."
"Pete told me to ask for the two of them," Bob reminded him. "He trusts them, at least."
"I don't care. None of you are the ones who sat in that nasty, awful cell. I don't want to go back. You're the only one I know for sure I can trust, so I'm not going anywhere without you."
"Okay, listen." Ray pointed at everyone in the room, confusion still evident on his face. "Here's what I know. Mikey's standing right here. Gerard is going out of his mind, worrying about him. We need to get Mikey to Gerard. If you won't go without him," he addressed Mikey, "then fine. Lindsey will be with us," he said, nodding to her, "and she'll keep an eye on him. You know we have to go get him," he said more softly, to Lindsey.
"I know. Fuck, I wanted to call him the minute I heard Mikey's voice." She laced her hands behind her neck. "But my job is to keep him safe. Or so I'm told."
Bob couldn't read the bitter tone of her voice, but Ray obviously caught whatever was underneath the words. "Fuck everyone else," he said. "You know the only people who matter are in this room, and Gerard."
"I know." She stood up. "Come on, let's go."
Ray led them through a maze of halls and rooms; they rode a lift down until Bob thought they had to be underground, and then walked through large, empty rooms in which their footsteps echoed loudly. "Taking the long way around," Ray said apologetically. "I don't want anybody to see you guys, not until Gerard knows you're here."
"I'm really tired of having to sneak around places," Mikey grumbled.
"Sorry," Ray said. He tried to ask Mikey questions - "Are you okay?" "What happened to you?" "How did you get home?" - but Mikey refused to answer. Bob didn't feel the need to jump in, not with Lindsey looking at him out of the corner of her eye. So, after a while, the four of them walked in silence, until they reached another lift. Ray stopped them before they entered. "This goes directly to Gerard's chambers. He's probably in the room. So ..." Ray searched for words, finally settling on, "be prepared." He clasped Mikey's shoulder as he passed. Mikey hesitated, then nodded at Ray before getting into the lift.
They rode up for what seemed like forever; it was probably only a full minute, but in the heavy silence of the lift, that minute stretched to infinity. When the lift lurched to a stop, Lindsey pressed the button to open the door. Before either she or Ray could move, Mikey strode out in front of them.
Bob was the last one out of the lift. So, he heard the loud, strangled noise before he saw anything - when he did emerge from behind Ray, he saw a mass of long black hair on Mikey's shoulder. The owner had Mikey in a death grip, his face half hidden in Mikey's shirt. Bob watched Mikey's face as it slowly crumbled; finally, he tightened his arms around the man and closed his eyes. Bob remained in front of the lift, Ray and Lindsey on either side of him. When he looked at them, each one looked like they were fighting tears.
When the two men separated, Bob saw the family resemblance in the other man - he had Mikey's pale skin and sharp features, while everything else - hair and clothing - was black as space. "Fucking Lady bless," he said shakily, dropping his hands from Mikey's arms. "You're home. You're really fucking home."
Mikey nodded slowly. "I, uh ... I ...I'm sorry, I don't ..." He put his hand over his mouth. Bob could see him shaking.
Before Bob could jump in, Lindsey walked over and linked her hand with the other man's. "Gerard," she said softly, "he's been drugged. He doesn't remember."
"What?" Gerard let go of her and put a hand on Mikey's face. "You don't remember what?"
"Anything. I don't remember anything. I don't ..." Mikey swallowed. "I don't remember you."
Gerard stepped backwards, as if he'd been burned. After a moment of silence, the curse he let out was inventive enough that part of Bob's mind filed it away for future use. "Of course. That's what they do, isn't it? Apex? I read about it," he said, when Lindsey frowned at him. "You think I didn't read everything we fucking have on Apex after I found out ..." Gerard looked back at Mikey and exhaled loudly. "Motherfucker."
"Yeah, pretty much," Mikey said.
"We can fix that, though, right?" Gerard looked from Lindsey to Ray and back. "Right?"
Ray was the one who nodded. "I'll go find the doctor. He should know the antidote."
When Ray was gone, Gerard finally noticed Bob. "Wait, who are you?"
"My friend," Mikey said, before Lindsey could answer. "Bob. He saved me."
"He brought Mikey in," Lindsey said, her voice carefully neutral.
Gerard shot her a confused look, but then walked over to Bob and grabbed his hand. "Thank you. I don't care who you are or where you came from or why you did it, just, thank you."
Bob shook Gerard's hand, unable to find the right words to reply. "It's, um ... nice to meet you," he said lamely.
Gerard turned back to Mikey. "Shit. Fucking hell. You're home. What the fuck happened?" Then, before Mikey could open his mouth, Gerard rubbed his forehead and pointed at the sitting area on the far side of the room. "Sit down. Everyone. I'm going to pass out or something stupid like that if I don't sit down."
Mikey situated himself in a chair. Gerard sat on a small couch next to him, leaning over towards Mikey. Lindsey sat next to Gerard, her hand resting lightly on his knee. Bob took a chair across from all of them and tried not to fidget. The room wasn't anything he would have expected the private quarters of a Lane corporation CEO to be - the furniture was mismatched, and the largest object in the room was a gigantic slanted table that held a half-finished art project. As Gerard talked, he gestured with ink-stained hands. "Okay," he said, "all right, Mikey's here. I can't believe you're here. What the hell happened to you? How did you get here?"
The room was silent for a moment. Gerard tapped his fingers on the side of his leg faster and faster, until Mikey finally exhaled and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I was in this room. On Genara, but I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know anything, just my name. I was strapped to a table, and there was this guy there, just watching me. When he saw I was awake, he started asking me questions. I couldn't answer any of them but my name. Most of the questions didn't even make sense to me. Some of them make a little sense now, I guess, now that I've learned some stuff. Like, he kept asking me about Porzia - if I knew where it was, or what went on there. I looked the name up on Bob's ship, and I know it's a planet on the lanes that you - er, we own? I don't really know what the deal is around here. There weren't any files or articles in the ship computer about how this whole Lane family thing works."
When Mikey mentioned Porzia, Lindsey went very still, and Gerard flushed red - with anger, Bob guessed, because his expression was similar to the one Mikey had worn down in the reception lounge. "Go on," was all Gerard said.
Most of the rest of the events in the story were parts Bob had participated in, but he kept quiet and watched Gerard and Lindsey's reactions as Mikey talked. When the story was done, Gerard looked over at Bob. "I don't even know what to say. 'Thank you' seems like a complete waste of breath."
Bob shifted in his seat and shrugged. "Don't. I just ... I'm just glad he's home."
"Gerard." He turned back at the sound of Mikey's voice. Mikey leaned forward even more, his eyes wide. "Why did they do it? Do you know why they took me? Because I don't know. I don't remember if I'm supposed to know."
Gerard lowered his head into his hands. He closed his eyes and let his hair fall around his face. "It's my fault," he said, his voice muffled.
"No, it's not," Lindsey said sharply. She looked over Gerard's head at Mikey. "Porzia. It's a mining colony - it has one of the only sources of pure rhenium in the galaxy. The lanes in that part of space have changed hands a dozen times or more in the last couple hundred years. Elena, your grandmother, paid the Barkers a whole lot of money for them when she was young, before she'd even had kids, in probably the best deal any Lane family has ever made. She made back her investment at least ten times over the course of her life, just on the fees cargo ships pay to travel to and from Porzia."
Bob nodded. "I've done a couple of runs to Porzia. Not many, because it's way out of the way of our usual routes, but even though the fees to fly there were steep, we made the money back in spades just from running the rhenium."
Gerard sat up and continued where Lindsey had left off. "A while back, the Barkers sold their lanes in that part of the galaxy to the Cyrus family. The Cyruses want me to sell them the lanes around Porzia. They're offering a shitload of money. So much money that my board of directors almost unanimously recommended that I take the deal."
"Which makes no fucking sense," Lindsey grumbled, "because you'd make that much money from Porzia just by running normal business in and out of there for a few years. Why sell off the cash cow?"
"They don't trust me," Gerard said, his mouth twisted into a parody of a grin. "I think most of them are getting ready to just cash out their shares and abandon ship. I heard a couple of them talking about how the Way family lanes would probably cease to exist in the next five years, because I'd run the company into the ground. They may be right. What the hell do I know about running a corporation?"
Lindsay hit him in the arm. "Shut up. You're doing fine. You're learning. What more could those jackasses want from you?"
Mikey tapped his foot impatiently. "Porzia?" he prompted.
Gerard sighed heavily. "The miners on Porzia all work for us. There's another company on the planet that owns the mines, but they share the profits from the rhenium with us in exchange for a steady supply of employees from all over the galaxy. If the Cyruses took over those lanes, the agreement would default to them - they'd be the ones hiring the miners and sharing the profits. And, well, all financial concerns aside ..." Gerard hesitated. "They have a couple of other colonies on their lane routes. One of them is a farming colony, and the other has a huge factory that makes ship engines. They ..."
When Gerard trailed off, Lindsey took up the explanation. "Let's just say that the employees on both colonies are not necessarily being paid a living wage. Also, quite frankly, a good number of them aren't old enough to work on most civilized planets."
"I knew a family," Gerard said, "back on the planet I lived on before Elena died. They used to live on another planet, farther out. Their son was taken. He'd done something stupid, vandalized a store or stole a candy bar or something. Nothing that should have gotten him more than a slap from his mother and a few hours of cleaning up trash in town, really. But the town council had made a deal with this company ... it was probably Apex, now that I think about it, but no one ever told his parents who they were. When the town security force arrested someone, the council had the authority to sentence them to anything they wanted. Most of the young, able-bodied people who got arrested were sentenced to work for this company off-planet for an unspecified amount of time. The family got one communication from the boy - he was working at the engine factory, on the colony owned by Cyrus. And then they never heard anything else again."
"So they use kids," Mikey said.
Gerard nodded. "Kids, and people who aren't important enough to make a fuss. They pay them, sure, but never enough for anyone to save up and buy their way out. And that's exactly the kind of thing Cyrus would do on Porzia. I know it. So I said no, I'd never sell those lanes to them." Gerard looked at Mikey, then cast his eyes downward. "A week later, you were gone."
When Mikey stared at Gerard, uncomprehending, Bob spoke up. "The Cyruses hired Apex. It's what the Simpsons did back during their war with Beckett - they had Apex take a bunch of people connected with the Becketts until they were intimidated enough to sign over portions of space to Simpson. Apex doesn't care who they're torturing, as long as they're paid well for it."
"So," Mikey said slowly, "you refused to make a business deal, and these people got so mad they decided to hire someone to kidnap me? And that was supposed to make you change your mind?"
"Yeah." Gerard slumped back in his seat. Lindsey rubbed his back soothingly.
"And did you?"
"What?"
"Did you change your mind?" Mikey stared at Gerard.
Gerard shook his head slowly. "I spent the first few days mostly screaming at anyone who came within ten feet of me. But then ..." He carded a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I was thinking about it. I mean, they were making me choose between a potential colony full of slaves - or as close to as we get these days - and my brother. I ... I may have caved. I don't know."
"We'd barely started talking about options when communications went offline," Lindsey said. "At that point, we couldn't talk to anyone, even if we wanted to."
Mikey was silent and still. Gerard looked up at the ceiling. Finally, Mikey slowly reached over and put a hand on Gerard's leg. "I'm glad you didn't sell," he said. "I don't know much about who I used to be, but I'm pretty sure I never would have forgiven you for it."
Gerard looked at him. He took a shaky breath. "I'm glad I didn't have to make the choice."
"Me too," Mikey agreed.
Before anyone could continue the conversation, Ray emerged from the lift, followed by three other people Bob didn't recognize - two men, both dressed in conservative suits, and a woman dressed in a long, flowing red dress. Gerard looked confused when he saw them; Lindsey looked irritated. Ray shrugged apologetically. "Rumors fly quick around here. They caught me on my way back from the medical lab."
"Mikey!" One of the men walked towards Mikey, but stopped when he saw Mikey's confused expression. "I can't believe you're home."
"How did you get here?" the woman asked. "My pilot says he saw you getting off a strange ship."
"However you got here," the third man said, cutting in between his two companions and leaning on the art table, next to Mikey, "it's good to have you home, safe and sound."
Bob heard Lindsey give a distinctly unladylike snort. Gerard stood up and walked toward the lift, forcing everyone to turn and look at him. "My brother's been through a lot," he said, "maybe you can give him at least the day to rest before you start ..." He waved a hand in the air, indicating silent words that Bob could only guess at.
"Gerard," the woman said, her voice dripping with obviously false concern, "the rest of the board is convening in the council room. Don't you remember?"
"He's had a lot to think about this afternoon," Ray said.
"Oh, obviously," she responded, "and that's perfectly understandable, but ... the communications problem is something we need to discuss. We're losing money every minute we're out of touch."
"We have the best engineers and programmers working on it," Lindsey said. "There's nothing to be done until they figure out where the sabotage occurred."
"We don't know it's sabotage," said the third man, still leaning against the table. "For all we know, it could just be an equipment failure."
"I doubt it," Gerard said, "especially after hearing Mikey's story."
"Mikey should talk to the board," the second man said.
"Um ..." Mikey started.
Ray stepped in. "He needs medical attention. The doctor is waiting for him right now, in fact."
"The board can meet tomorrow," Gerard suggested. "You can talk to Mikey then."
All three began to speak to Gerard all at once - Bob couldn't make out anything, but saw Gerard's jaw tightening with every second. In the din, Lindsey stood up and gestured to Mikey. Mikey looked at Bob, who shrugged; Mikey stood up. Lindsey spoke loudly to carry over the other voices. "I'm taking Mikey up to the lab. Anyone who feels the need to talk to him right this second is certainly welcome to tell Dr. Hoppus why it's necessary to break his ban on business in the medical lab." No one responded to her, so she motioned Mikey towards the lift. Mikey hung back for a moment, but after glancing at the three new arrivals he followed her out of the room.
The man who had been leaning next to Mikey walked over to Gerard. "The board is, in fact, meeting right now," he said, touching Gerard's arm, "and you need to be there. At the very least, you need to tell everyone that Mikey's safe before rumors start getting out of control."
Gerard looked at Ray. Ray nodded at him. "Go. I'll take care of our guest."
The three strangers suddenly noticed Bob for the first time. The woman looked like she was going to say something, but then Gerard started walking towards the lift. "Right," he said. "Let's get this over with."
After a few more curious glances back at Bob, the three followed Gerard into the lift. When the doors closed behind them, Ray flopped down on the couch Gerard and Lindsey had just abandoned. "Motherfucker," he said succinctly.
Bob silently agreed. "Can I ask what just happened here?"
Ray made a face. "It's a long story. Short version, those people are all assholes."
"I figured that. They were big enough assholes to make Lindsey stop watching me like a hawk, which is impressive."
"Don't be too hard on her," Ray said. "She's been through a lot recently. This whole Mikey thing was just the icing on the cake. Most of the board is calling for her head as chief of security."
"Were those people from the board?"
"Two of them. The other guy," Ray gestured at the art table, where the third man had stood. "is the Way family solicitor." Ray stood up suddenly. "Okay, while I'm not as paranoid as Lindsey, I'm still not going to sit here and talk about our business to a complete stranger. Sorry."
"It's okay." Bob stood up, as well. "So, what now?"
"I'll set you up in some quarters. They'll have to be near the family quarters," Ray mused, "or Mikey will probably throw a fit. Come on, we'll go see what's available."
Bob let Ray lead him back down to the common areas, and bit back the questions about Mikey that kept popping into his head. Like, where was the medical lab, and what precisely was the doctor doing to reverse his memory loss? Part of his brain was screaming at him to go find Mikey, watch him - He's with his family now, dumbass, Bob told himself firmly. He doesn't need you to protect him.
However, Mikey had been right earlier - someone inside the Way compound had to have helped kidnap him. And that didn't make Bob rest easy, even after he was ensconced in a luxurious room with the softest bed he'd probably ever slept on. He laid down, but stared at the ceiling for a long time.
A loud buzz woke Bob out of a sound sleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping - nothing in the room displayed the time - but he shook off the lethargy when he realized the buzz was from the door. When he opened it, he found Mikey staring at him. "Sorry," Mikey said, looking at Bob's rumpled clothing and hair. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." Bob stepped aside and let Mikey into the room. "What happened?"
Mikey shrugged. "He injected me with something. Then I had to lay there for a long time, to make sure I didn't pass out or something. It was kinda boring." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Actually, I talked to Lindsey for a while. She's not bad. I guess we're actually friends, you know, when I remember."
"Probably." Bob leaned against a wall across from Mikey. "You don't remember yet? Did the antidote not work?"
"No, it's working. The doctor says it takes a couple of days to fully kick in. He warned me I might not feel anything until at least tomorrow. But, I'm starting to remember things even now." Mike slid backwards on the large bed until his feet were danging a couple of inches from the floor. "It's like ... flashes, nothing solid, just images. I remember the candy my grandmother used to give me - I saw Gerard just now, and he confirmed that it's a real memory. I remember how I played a trick on Gerard one time and locked him outside in his pajamas. I have this one image of Pete ..." Mikey blushed. "Everywhere I walk, I get a flash of something. In Gerard's rooms, I remembered him drawing me this little comic of a guy flying through space with a little jetpack on his back. I remember having this business meeting with that solicitor guy in my private rooms. In the hallway outside of here, I remember dodging these annoying people who were staying here for some kind of business meeting. It's just ..." Mikey spread his hands wide. "I have these images, but none of them really tell me anything about how I feel about things, or who I am."
"But you're remembering. That's the good part."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?"
"I don't know." Mikey pushed himself off the bed and walked around to the small bar at the corner of the room, where he poured himself a drink of whatever beverage someone had left sitting there. "This place is weird. Even though I'm starting to remember these things, it still feels like I don't belong here. I'm all itchy, like I want to jump back on that ship and fly as far away from here as I can."
"You'll feel different once you remember everything."
"Will I?" Mikey downed his entire drink in one gulp. When he went to pour himself another one, Bob crossed the room and took the bottle out of his hand. Mikey scowled and leaned on the bar. "I wish we hadn't come here."
"No you don't."
"Fuck you." Mikey didn't look up. "If we hadn't come here, I wouldn't feel so goddamned guilty for not knowing my brother. I could barely look at him, Bob. He's just so devastated, every time he remembers that I don't remember. It's like I'm letting him down."
"How? Because a bunch of assholes kidnapped you?"
"Because I was apparently stupid enough to let myself get kidnapped."
"That's a bunch of bullshit." At that, Mikey looked up. Bob frowned at him. "Who the hell expects to be kidnapped out of their own home? If there's anywhere you should have felt safe, it was here. So it's not your fault. None of it is."
"I don't know," Mikey said again. He stood up and leaned heavily against the bar. "I just wish ..."
Mikey fell silent. His eyes searched Bob's face; Bob felt himself flush under the intense scrutiny. Mikey tenatively rested his hand on top of the one Bob had on the bar. The physical sensation startled Bob, but he instinctively turned his hand over and grasped Mikey's. Mikey leaned closer. Bob's brain didn't register what was about to happen until Mikey had pressed his lips against Bob's. Bob's grip on Mikey's hand tightened, which caused Mikey to make a small sound against Bob's mouth. Bob felt the tiny vibration all over his skin, which made him lift his other hand to Mikey's hip to steady himself. Mikey pulled back just a tiny bit; his nose brushed against Bob's as he looked at Bob questioningly. His breath was warm, and smelled slightly of the alcohol that he'd just consumed. A warning sparked in Bob's brain, but then Mikey laid his free hand on Bob's chest, and the contact drove Bob to lean back in and capture Mikey's mouth.
Bob lost track of time, of right and wrong - for those minutes, all he knew was Mikey's mouth, warm and wet and insistent, Mikey's slender body pressed flush against his, his hands that came to rest on either side of Bob's neck, his fingers curling in the ends of Bob's hair. When they separated, Mikey leaned his forehead against Bob's and kept his eyes closed. Bob studied the shadows his eyelashes made against his cheeks. When Mikey murmured Bob's name, Bob's brain finally kicked back in, and he stepped backwards, out of Mikey's grasp. Mikey's eyes snapped open. "Mikey ...." Bob rubbed his cheeks, feeling the slight growth of whiskers drag against his hands. "Fuck, I don't ..."
When Bob trailed off, Mikey's face tightened into a blank expression Bob had seen enough times in the past week to recognize. "Sorry," he said, turning back to the bar.
"Mikey. Mikey," he repeated, until Mikey looked back up at him again. "I just don't want ... I don't want you to do anything you'll regret when you get your memory back."
"You don't have any idea what I'd regret." Mikey pushed away from the bar and walked away. Halfway across the room, he stopped and turned around. "That stupid drug didn't make me a moron, you know."
"I know. That's not what I ..." Bob closed his eyes. His hand, leaning on the bar, found the bottle he'd taken from Mikey, and in a moment of frustration he shoved it hard enough that it thumped to the ground on the opposite side of the bar. When he opened his eyes, Mikey was staring at him, bright eyes the only sign of emotion on his face. "You could remember anything over the next few days. A boyfriend, a girlfriend. I don't ..." Bob took a deep breath. "I don't just want to be here because I'm the only person you fucking know right now."
"Is that what you think?" Mikey turned around, then turned back quickly and crossed back to Bob. "So you do think the drug made me an idiot. Fuck off."
"I don't -" When Mikey stopped in front of him, Bob's willpower snapped. "Fuck this." He grabbed Mikey and kissed him, hard and fast, pulling Mikey close enough that he could feel the other man's erratic heartbeat against his chest. Mikey barely resisted; after only a second, he wrapped his arms around Bob and dug his fingers into his back. He backed Bob back into the bar. For such a skinny guy, he was surprisingly strong, and Bob began to feel his body react to Mikey as he pressed against him. Mikey groaned incoherently.
Suddenly, something beeped loudly. Neither man reacted until the beeping continued. On the fifth repeated beep, Mikey tore himself away and cursed creatively. "What the fuck is that?"
"It sounds like it's coming from you," Bob said.
Neither one of them moved right away, but when the beeping wouldn't stop, Mikey stepped away and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small communicator. "Lindsey gave it to me," he explained, making a sour face at the device. Finally, he pressed a button, and the beeping stopped. Gerard's voice came out of the small speaker. "Mikey?"
"Yeah?" Mikey responded, turning away from Bob.
"Can you come up to my rooms? The doctor's here, he has some things to ask you. I guess he wants to make sure everything's working right."
Mikey was still and silent for a moment. Bob watched his back hunch over slightly. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
When Mikey closed the connection and turned back to Bob, Bob nodded. "Go on."
"You coming?"
Bob shook his head. "No. You should ... go, talk to your brother. It'll probably help."
Mikey's expression closed off. "Right." He shoved the communicator back into his pocket and turned around. He left the room without saying another word.
When he was gone, Bob retrieved the bottle from the floor - closed and unharmed, thanks to the soft carpeting in the room - and opened it. He drank straight from the bottle. By the time he'd finished, the bottle was half empty. He took the bottle back to the bed, and finished it off as he spent the rest of the evening staring at old vid programs.
His door didn't buzz again.
Part Five
Part Two
Part Three
It took them one full day to reach the intersection, and another day and a half to reach the space around Nariall. Bob had never traveled to the home planet of a Lane family before, but even so, the lack of communication worried him. "Brian traveled to the McCoy home planet once," he told Mikey, "and they sent him a message when he was four beacons out, asking him for his travel permissions before they'd activate the final three beacons to let him pass." They passed by the second-last beacon with continued radio silence. Not for the first time, Bob opened a comm channel and sent the same message he'd been sending for hours. "Captain Bob Bryar calling Nariall comm center. Emergency landing clearance requested. Please respond." He was answered with the same nothing he'd already heard.
"Where are they?" Mikey asked. He leaned his elbows on the console and stared out into the black, as if he expected an answer to appear in front of him.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Bob set course for the final beacon and sent a silent prayer to the Lady. If no one responded there, then the ship was dead in space. Unless Nariall had been compromised, in which case ... well, that wasn't something Bob wanted to think about.
They spent the next couple of hours in silence. When they approached the last beacon, Bob looked over at Mikey. "Last chance."
"Shit," Mikey said under his breath. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair, eyes on Bob as he keyed in the code to broadcast again.
"Captain Bob Bryar calling Nariall comm center. Emergency landing ..."
Loud static interrupted him before he could finish the message. A moment later, a voice came over the comm. "State your business, Captain. This is restricted space."
"I'm traveling on special clearance from Clandestine, with an important message for the Way family."
"Please halt your ship. Transmit your clearance and your message and await response."
Bob stopped the ship, but shook his head at Mikey when he opened his mouth to speak. "I've been instructed to speak exclusively to Lindsey Ballato or Ray Toro. I will transmit only to one of them." He silenced the comm and waved off Mikey's frown. "Pete's advice."
Mikey nodded as the voice came back on. "The Chief and Mr. Toro are unavailable. Please transmit your message. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take measures."
"Measures?" Mikey asked.
"I don't think I want to know," Bob muttered. He opened the comm channel again. "Negative. If you need confirmation of my clearance, you can contact Clandestine's communication room."
The channel was silent for several moments. "Outside confirmation is impossible at this time," the voice finally replied. "Please reverse your course and leave Nariall space."
"Negative," Bob repeated. "I'm staying here until I'm allowed to deliver my message."
The channel fell silent again. Mikey stood up and paced across the cockpit. "What if they ..."
"What? Shoot us?" Bob shrugged with more carelessness than he felt. "I don't think they will. Hell, I'm not sure they even can at this point."
"Why?"
"I think their long-range communications have been knocked out. Otherwise, we would have gotten this whole spiel four beacons ago. If their communications aren't functional, chances are better than average that their spaceport's defense mechanisms are malfunctioning, too."
"You want to bet on that?"
Bob hesitated for a moment. "I have to, I guess."
Mikey made a noise in the back of his throat and turned to face the opposite wall. Bob turned back to his console and willed the comm to blink with an incoming message again.
They waited for what seemed like an eternity. Bob was ready to crawl out of his own skin by the time the light came back on. "Captain Bryar." This time, the voice was female, with steel running through every word. "This is Lindsey Ballato. Please transmit your clearance and your message, or I'll be forced to disable your ship. Acknowledge."
Bob looked back at Mikey. "Pete told me this woman was someone you can trust. Do we trust that's actually true?"
"Do we have any other choice?"
Bob shrugged in agreement, then stood and walked away from the console. Mikey sat down in his place, and after several deep breaths, pressed the button to speak. "This is Mikey Way," he said, his voice shaky. "Please let us land."
The response was almost immediate. "Mikey?" The woman's voice changed to something more urgent. "Mikey, is that really you?"
"Yeah. I mean, that's what they tell me."
"What?"
Bob leaned over the console. "Ma'am, he's under the influence of a memory loss drug. Please let us land, he needs attention from your physicians."
There was another moment of radio silence. Then, "Our scans indicate that your ship has no weaponry."
"No, this is a personal cruiser, we have no defenses. The only weapon on board is one pulse gun."
"When you land, you will come out without the pulse gun," the woman responded. "Mikey will come out first. If we see anyone other than Mikey, my guards will have orders to shoot on sight. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." Bob leaned against the console and watched as the landing authorizaiton appeared on the screen in front of him. He initiated the landing procedures while he stood; Mikey sat in his chair and stared blankly at the now-dark comm light. "You okay?"
"I guess."
"You're going home. That's good, right?"
"I guess," Mikey repeated. He looked up at Bob. "Is it weird to admit that I'm more scared now than I have been since you found me?"
"No. No, it's not." Bob sighed and ruffled Mikey's hair. "I am, too."
They rode into the Nariall spaceport in silence.
Bob chose to stay several steps behind Mikey when they walked out of the ship. Thus, he heard the woman yell "Mikey!!" before he got to the top of the ramp. When he stepped out, he saw a woman - black hair, with tattoos covering both arms - running up the ramp. She stopped just short of Mikey and put her hands on his shoulders. "Mikey, it's you. You're really home."
Mikey didn't respond. Bob made his way cautiously to where they were standing, mindful of the half dozen men surrounding the ramp with pulse guns trained on him. "Ma'am," he began.
She released Mikey and pulled her own pulse gun out of its holster. "Who are you, and why did you have Mikey?"
At this, Mikey put a hand on her arm. "He saved me. Please don't ... he saved me."
She looked at Mikey, then back at Bob. "Captain Bryar ..." She changed her mind and looked back at Mikey. "You don't remember me. Or anything." It wasn't a question.
"No. Not until a few days ago. I'm sorry."
She looked back at Bob, gun still trained on him, but continued to address Mikey. "Then how do you know that he actually saved you? How do you know that he's not working with the people who took you?"
"Ma'am," Bob interrupted. He held up his hands. "I'm unarmed. Search me, do whatever you need to do. But I'd really prefer to have this conversation without an audience." He looked around; many spaceport workers had crept up behind the guard team and were watching the proceedings with wide eyes.
The woman - Lindsey, Bob reminded himself - stared at him for a long moment. Then, she jerked the gun in a motion that indicated he should walk in front of her. "Go." Mikey fell into step next to Bob, which earned them both an irritated noise. When Bob looked back, Lindsey gestured to a door at the far side of the bay. "Over there. You," she said to one of the guards as they began to walk. "Search his ship. Make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for us. And call Ray and tell him to meet us in reception lounge 4."
The reception lounge, as it turned out, was a nondescript room with furniture that fell just short of being comfortable. When they closed the door, Lindsey holstered her gun and placed her hands on either side of Mikey's face. "Bright Lady," she said, a hitch in her voice. "We were afraid you were dead."
"I don't think that was their game," Mikey replied. He put hands tentatively over hers. She pulled away from his face and grasped his hands for a short moment before stepping back and pacing across the room.
"It wasn't," Bob said. He watched as Lindsey turned and focused her attention on him, eyes narrow. "If they'd killed him, they would have never gotten paid."
"I know it was Apex," she snapped. "They contacted us for the ransom. But then -" Lindsey shut her mouth and scowled. "I still don't know who you are."
"Captain Bob Bryar. I work for Avalon Shipping. My coworkers and I ... well, let's just say we have a vested interest in foiling plans made by Apex." When Lindsey didn't respond, Bob spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "If you want, you can call Clandestine. The Wentzes will vouch for me."
Lindsey rubbed her face and turned away. "We can't."
"What?" Bob had figured out the problem, but he waited to hear her tell it.
"We can't call Clandestine. Or anywhere. Something killed our long-range communications array. So you'll forgive me if I'm not able to check your references right now. And if I think it's really damned convenient that you showed up with Mikey while all hell is breaking loose."
"Hey, we've been trying to get someone to call you since we left Genara," Bob protested. "Which you can believe or not believe, because I obviously can't prove it."
"Obviously. Stand up." When Bob complied, she crossed the room to him and grabbed his arm. "You know, I don't trust you. So I'm going to have someone take you somewhere nice and secure while we figure out just what the hell happened to Mikey."
"Hey, this is kind of bullshit ..." Mikey started, crossing his arms over his chest.
Bob cut him off. "It's okay. I can go. I get the feeling she's got a right to be paranoid."
"Yeah, well, so do I." Mikey stepped between them and shoved Lindsey backwards. Lindsey froze, staring at Mikey with wide eyes. Mikey turned back to Bob. "I don't fucking remember anything until, what, five days ago? And in those five days, you've done nothing but help me. You've helped me, and Gabe and the rest of them at Cobra helped me, and Pete and Ashlee helped me. But when happens when I get 'home'?" he asked, sneering at the word. "I watch them treat you like a fucking criminal. And that's entirely fucking bullshit. So," he said, turning to address Lindsey, "as far as I'm concerned, right now the only difference between you and the jackasses who did this to me is that this room is cleaner than the cell they had me in." Suddenly, the energy drained out of Mikey, and he sat down in a chair, eyes downcast. "I wish we'd stayed at Clandestine," he muttered.
Bob pulled his attention away from Mikey to look at Lindsey. She'd brought her hand up to her mouth, but her eyes shone with an emotion that made him nod to her. She threw up her hands and turned away.
At that moment, the door opened and a man rushed in; Bob only had the chance to register large, curly hair and a rumpled suit before he turned and noticed Mikey. "Lady Bright, it's ..."
"Yes, it's me." Mikey spoke in a monotone as he continued to stare at the floor. "I'm home, apparently, but I don't remember jack shit. I certainly don't remember you. I've had a really fucking long week, but go ahead and interrogate Bob like he killed someone, because it's apparently what you people do around here."
The man stopped in his tracks, mouth open. He glanced over at Lindsey, who simply shook her head and dropped into another chair. "I don't fucking know, Ray," she said. "I really don't know what the hell is happening here today."
"That makes four of us, I think," Bob said.
"Does someone want to back up and tell me how Mikey got here?" Ray asked.
"Bob brought me," Mikey said, before anyone else could speak. "But now she wants to lock him up for it."
"Fuck, Mikey, I don't ..." Lindsey blew out a frustrated breath. "You have no idea what's going on around here."
"I don't have any idea of what's going on anywhere right now, which really fucking sucks. It'd be nice if you actually explained it instead of just waving your gun around and being all intimidating."
"Okay, fine." Lindsey started ticking things off on her fingers. "You disappeared. We found out you were somehow taken by Apex, under all our noses. It's apparently over a business deal, which has just about killed your brother. In the middle of negotiations, Apex stopped talking to us and our communcations array blew up. So we've been sitting here in the dark for the past few days, going absolutely fucking crazy. Suddenly, you miraculously show up with this guy we don't know, and I don't trust miracles, okay? So fuck off."
"Does Gerard know he's here?" Ray asked. Bob watched his face cycle through a variety of emotions, as his gaze flicked back and forth between Mikey and Lindsey.
"Not yet. I wanted to figure out if anything here was a trap. He's vulnerable enough as it is right now, Ray."
"I know." Ray turned to Bob, blinking as if it was the first time he noticed that someone else was in the room. "Bob, I assume?"
"That's me." He turned to Mikey, laying a hand on his shoulder. Mikey looked up at him. "Listen," Bob said, "she's got a point. I wouldn't really trust me either, if I was in her position. So let them take you to see your brother. I'll stay wherever they tell me to."
"No." Mikey brushed his hand off of his shoulder. "Here's the thing. If I was taken under their noses, like she said, then someone around here had to help Apex do it, right? Or else their security is so bad that kidnappers can just waltz right in." He rolled his eyes in Lindsey's direction. "They might not trust you, but I don't trust them."
"Pete told me to ask for the two of them," Bob reminded him. "He trusts them, at least."
"I don't care. None of you are the ones who sat in that nasty, awful cell. I don't want to go back. You're the only one I know for sure I can trust, so I'm not going anywhere without you."
"Okay, listen." Ray pointed at everyone in the room, confusion still evident on his face. "Here's what I know. Mikey's standing right here. Gerard is going out of his mind, worrying about him. We need to get Mikey to Gerard. If you won't go without him," he addressed Mikey, "then fine. Lindsey will be with us," he said, nodding to her, "and she'll keep an eye on him. You know we have to go get him," he said more softly, to Lindsey.
"I know. Fuck, I wanted to call him the minute I heard Mikey's voice." She laced her hands behind her neck. "But my job is to keep him safe. Or so I'm told."
Bob couldn't read the bitter tone of her voice, but Ray obviously caught whatever was underneath the words. "Fuck everyone else," he said. "You know the only people who matter are in this room, and Gerard."
"I know." She stood up. "Come on, let's go."
Ray led them through a maze of halls and rooms; they rode a lift down until Bob thought they had to be underground, and then walked through large, empty rooms in which their footsteps echoed loudly. "Taking the long way around," Ray said apologetically. "I don't want anybody to see you guys, not until Gerard knows you're here."
"I'm really tired of having to sneak around places," Mikey grumbled.
"Sorry," Ray said. He tried to ask Mikey questions - "Are you okay?" "What happened to you?" "How did you get home?" - but Mikey refused to answer. Bob didn't feel the need to jump in, not with Lindsey looking at him out of the corner of her eye. So, after a while, the four of them walked in silence, until they reached another lift. Ray stopped them before they entered. "This goes directly to Gerard's chambers. He's probably in the room. So ..." Ray searched for words, finally settling on, "be prepared." He clasped Mikey's shoulder as he passed. Mikey hesitated, then nodded at Ray before getting into the lift.
They rode up for what seemed like forever; it was probably only a full minute, but in the heavy silence of the lift, that minute stretched to infinity. When the lift lurched to a stop, Lindsey pressed the button to open the door. Before either she or Ray could move, Mikey strode out in front of them.
Bob was the last one out of the lift. So, he heard the loud, strangled noise before he saw anything - when he did emerge from behind Ray, he saw a mass of long black hair on Mikey's shoulder. The owner had Mikey in a death grip, his face half hidden in Mikey's shirt. Bob watched Mikey's face as it slowly crumbled; finally, he tightened his arms around the man and closed his eyes. Bob remained in front of the lift, Ray and Lindsey on either side of him. When he looked at them, each one looked like they were fighting tears.
When the two men separated, Bob saw the family resemblance in the other man - he had Mikey's pale skin and sharp features, while everything else - hair and clothing - was black as space. "Fucking Lady bless," he said shakily, dropping his hands from Mikey's arms. "You're home. You're really fucking home."
Mikey nodded slowly. "I, uh ... I ...I'm sorry, I don't ..." He put his hand over his mouth. Bob could see him shaking.
Before Bob could jump in, Lindsey walked over and linked her hand with the other man's. "Gerard," she said softly, "he's been drugged. He doesn't remember."
"What?" Gerard let go of her and put a hand on Mikey's face. "You don't remember what?"
"Anything. I don't remember anything. I don't ..." Mikey swallowed. "I don't remember you."
Gerard stepped backwards, as if he'd been burned. After a moment of silence, the curse he let out was inventive enough that part of Bob's mind filed it away for future use. "Of course. That's what they do, isn't it? Apex? I read about it," he said, when Lindsey frowned at him. "You think I didn't read everything we fucking have on Apex after I found out ..." Gerard looked back at Mikey and exhaled loudly. "Motherfucker."
"Yeah, pretty much," Mikey said.
"We can fix that, though, right?" Gerard looked from Lindsey to Ray and back. "Right?"
Ray was the one who nodded. "I'll go find the doctor. He should know the antidote."
When Ray was gone, Gerard finally noticed Bob. "Wait, who are you?"
"My friend," Mikey said, before Lindsey could answer. "Bob. He saved me."
"He brought Mikey in," Lindsey said, her voice carefully neutral.
Gerard shot her a confused look, but then walked over to Bob and grabbed his hand. "Thank you. I don't care who you are or where you came from or why you did it, just, thank you."
Bob shook Gerard's hand, unable to find the right words to reply. "It's, um ... nice to meet you," he said lamely.
Gerard turned back to Mikey. "Shit. Fucking hell. You're home. What the fuck happened?" Then, before Mikey could open his mouth, Gerard rubbed his forehead and pointed at the sitting area on the far side of the room. "Sit down. Everyone. I'm going to pass out or something stupid like that if I don't sit down."
Mikey situated himself in a chair. Gerard sat on a small couch next to him, leaning over towards Mikey. Lindsey sat next to Gerard, her hand resting lightly on his knee. Bob took a chair across from all of them and tried not to fidget. The room wasn't anything he would have expected the private quarters of a Lane corporation CEO to be - the furniture was mismatched, and the largest object in the room was a gigantic slanted table that held a half-finished art project. As Gerard talked, he gestured with ink-stained hands. "Okay," he said, "all right, Mikey's here. I can't believe you're here. What the hell happened to you? How did you get here?"
The room was silent for a moment. Gerard tapped his fingers on the side of his leg faster and faster, until Mikey finally exhaled and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I was in this room. On Genara, but I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know anything, just my name. I was strapped to a table, and there was this guy there, just watching me. When he saw I was awake, he started asking me questions. I couldn't answer any of them but my name. Most of the questions didn't even make sense to me. Some of them make a little sense now, I guess, now that I've learned some stuff. Like, he kept asking me about Porzia - if I knew where it was, or what went on there. I looked the name up on Bob's ship, and I know it's a planet on the lanes that you - er, we own? I don't really know what the deal is around here. There weren't any files or articles in the ship computer about how this whole Lane family thing works."
When Mikey mentioned Porzia, Lindsey went very still, and Gerard flushed red - with anger, Bob guessed, because his expression was similar to the one Mikey had worn down in the reception lounge. "Go on," was all Gerard said.
Most of the rest of the events in the story were parts Bob had participated in, but he kept quiet and watched Gerard and Lindsey's reactions as Mikey talked. When the story was done, Gerard looked over at Bob. "I don't even know what to say. 'Thank you' seems like a complete waste of breath."
Bob shifted in his seat and shrugged. "Don't. I just ... I'm just glad he's home."
"Gerard." He turned back at the sound of Mikey's voice. Mikey leaned forward even more, his eyes wide. "Why did they do it? Do you know why they took me? Because I don't know. I don't remember if I'm supposed to know."
Gerard lowered his head into his hands. He closed his eyes and let his hair fall around his face. "It's my fault," he said, his voice muffled.
"No, it's not," Lindsey said sharply. She looked over Gerard's head at Mikey. "Porzia. It's a mining colony - it has one of the only sources of pure rhenium in the galaxy. The lanes in that part of space have changed hands a dozen times or more in the last couple hundred years. Elena, your grandmother, paid the Barkers a whole lot of money for them when she was young, before she'd even had kids, in probably the best deal any Lane family has ever made. She made back her investment at least ten times over the course of her life, just on the fees cargo ships pay to travel to and from Porzia."
Bob nodded. "I've done a couple of runs to Porzia. Not many, because it's way out of the way of our usual routes, but even though the fees to fly there were steep, we made the money back in spades just from running the rhenium."
Gerard sat up and continued where Lindsey had left off. "A while back, the Barkers sold their lanes in that part of the galaxy to the Cyrus family. The Cyruses want me to sell them the lanes around Porzia. They're offering a shitload of money. So much money that my board of directors almost unanimously recommended that I take the deal."
"Which makes no fucking sense," Lindsey grumbled, "because you'd make that much money from Porzia just by running normal business in and out of there for a few years. Why sell off the cash cow?"
"They don't trust me," Gerard said, his mouth twisted into a parody of a grin. "I think most of them are getting ready to just cash out their shares and abandon ship. I heard a couple of them talking about how the Way family lanes would probably cease to exist in the next five years, because I'd run the company into the ground. They may be right. What the hell do I know about running a corporation?"
Lindsay hit him in the arm. "Shut up. You're doing fine. You're learning. What more could those jackasses want from you?"
Mikey tapped his foot impatiently. "Porzia?" he prompted.
Gerard sighed heavily. "The miners on Porzia all work for us. There's another company on the planet that owns the mines, but they share the profits from the rhenium with us in exchange for a steady supply of employees from all over the galaxy. If the Cyruses took over those lanes, the agreement would default to them - they'd be the ones hiring the miners and sharing the profits. And, well, all financial concerns aside ..." Gerard hesitated. "They have a couple of other colonies on their lane routes. One of them is a farming colony, and the other has a huge factory that makes ship engines. They ..."
When Gerard trailed off, Lindsey took up the explanation. "Let's just say that the employees on both colonies are not necessarily being paid a living wage. Also, quite frankly, a good number of them aren't old enough to work on most civilized planets."
"I knew a family," Gerard said, "back on the planet I lived on before Elena died. They used to live on another planet, farther out. Their son was taken. He'd done something stupid, vandalized a store or stole a candy bar or something. Nothing that should have gotten him more than a slap from his mother and a few hours of cleaning up trash in town, really. But the town council had made a deal with this company ... it was probably Apex, now that I think about it, but no one ever told his parents who they were. When the town security force arrested someone, the council had the authority to sentence them to anything they wanted. Most of the young, able-bodied people who got arrested were sentenced to work for this company off-planet for an unspecified amount of time. The family got one communication from the boy - he was working at the engine factory, on the colony owned by Cyrus. And then they never heard anything else again."
"So they use kids," Mikey said.
Gerard nodded. "Kids, and people who aren't important enough to make a fuss. They pay them, sure, but never enough for anyone to save up and buy their way out. And that's exactly the kind of thing Cyrus would do on Porzia. I know it. So I said no, I'd never sell those lanes to them." Gerard looked at Mikey, then cast his eyes downward. "A week later, you were gone."
When Mikey stared at Gerard, uncomprehending, Bob spoke up. "The Cyruses hired Apex. It's what the Simpsons did back during their war with Beckett - they had Apex take a bunch of people connected with the Becketts until they were intimidated enough to sign over portions of space to Simpson. Apex doesn't care who they're torturing, as long as they're paid well for it."
"So," Mikey said slowly, "you refused to make a business deal, and these people got so mad they decided to hire someone to kidnap me? And that was supposed to make you change your mind?"
"Yeah." Gerard slumped back in his seat. Lindsey rubbed his back soothingly.
"And did you?"
"What?"
"Did you change your mind?" Mikey stared at Gerard.
Gerard shook his head slowly. "I spent the first few days mostly screaming at anyone who came within ten feet of me. But then ..." He carded a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I was thinking about it. I mean, they were making me choose between a potential colony full of slaves - or as close to as we get these days - and my brother. I ... I may have caved. I don't know."
"We'd barely started talking about options when communications went offline," Lindsey said. "At that point, we couldn't talk to anyone, even if we wanted to."
Mikey was silent and still. Gerard looked up at the ceiling. Finally, Mikey slowly reached over and put a hand on Gerard's leg. "I'm glad you didn't sell," he said. "I don't know much about who I used to be, but I'm pretty sure I never would have forgiven you for it."
Gerard looked at him. He took a shaky breath. "I'm glad I didn't have to make the choice."
"Me too," Mikey agreed.
Before anyone could continue the conversation, Ray emerged from the lift, followed by three other people Bob didn't recognize - two men, both dressed in conservative suits, and a woman dressed in a long, flowing red dress. Gerard looked confused when he saw them; Lindsey looked irritated. Ray shrugged apologetically. "Rumors fly quick around here. They caught me on my way back from the medical lab."
"Mikey!" One of the men walked towards Mikey, but stopped when he saw Mikey's confused expression. "I can't believe you're home."
"How did you get here?" the woman asked. "My pilot says he saw you getting off a strange ship."
"However you got here," the third man said, cutting in between his two companions and leaning on the art table, next to Mikey, "it's good to have you home, safe and sound."
Bob heard Lindsey give a distinctly unladylike snort. Gerard stood up and walked toward the lift, forcing everyone to turn and look at him. "My brother's been through a lot," he said, "maybe you can give him at least the day to rest before you start ..." He waved a hand in the air, indicating silent words that Bob could only guess at.
"Gerard," the woman said, her voice dripping with obviously false concern, "the rest of the board is convening in the council room. Don't you remember?"
"He's had a lot to think about this afternoon," Ray said.
"Oh, obviously," she responded, "and that's perfectly understandable, but ... the communications problem is something we need to discuss. We're losing money every minute we're out of touch."
"We have the best engineers and programmers working on it," Lindsey said. "There's nothing to be done until they figure out where the sabotage occurred."
"We don't know it's sabotage," said the third man, still leaning against the table. "For all we know, it could just be an equipment failure."
"I doubt it," Gerard said, "especially after hearing Mikey's story."
"Mikey should talk to the board," the second man said.
"Um ..." Mikey started.
Ray stepped in. "He needs medical attention. The doctor is waiting for him right now, in fact."
"The board can meet tomorrow," Gerard suggested. "You can talk to Mikey then."
All three began to speak to Gerard all at once - Bob couldn't make out anything, but saw Gerard's jaw tightening with every second. In the din, Lindsey stood up and gestured to Mikey. Mikey looked at Bob, who shrugged; Mikey stood up. Lindsey spoke loudly to carry over the other voices. "I'm taking Mikey up to the lab. Anyone who feels the need to talk to him right this second is certainly welcome to tell Dr. Hoppus why it's necessary to break his ban on business in the medical lab." No one responded to her, so she motioned Mikey towards the lift. Mikey hung back for a moment, but after glancing at the three new arrivals he followed her out of the room.
The man who had been leaning next to Mikey walked over to Gerard. "The board is, in fact, meeting right now," he said, touching Gerard's arm, "and you need to be there. At the very least, you need to tell everyone that Mikey's safe before rumors start getting out of control."
Gerard looked at Ray. Ray nodded at him. "Go. I'll take care of our guest."
The three strangers suddenly noticed Bob for the first time. The woman looked like she was going to say something, but then Gerard started walking towards the lift. "Right," he said. "Let's get this over with."
After a few more curious glances back at Bob, the three followed Gerard into the lift. When the doors closed behind them, Ray flopped down on the couch Gerard and Lindsey had just abandoned. "Motherfucker," he said succinctly.
Bob silently agreed. "Can I ask what just happened here?"
Ray made a face. "It's a long story. Short version, those people are all assholes."
"I figured that. They were big enough assholes to make Lindsey stop watching me like a hawk, which is impressive."
"Don't be too hard on her," Ray said. "She's been through a lot recently. This whole Mikey thing was just the icing on the cake. Most of the board is calling for her head as chief of security."
"Were those people from the board?"
"Two of them. The other guy," Ray gestured at the art table, where the third man had stood. "is the Way family solicitor." Ray stood up suddenly. "Okay, while I'm not as paranoid as Lindsey, I'm still not going to sit here and talk about our business to a complete stranger. Sorry."
"It's okay." Bob stood up, as well. "So, what now?"
"I'll set you up in some quarters. They'll have to be near the family quarters," Ray mused, "or Mikey will probably throw a fit. Come on, we'll go see what's available."
Bob let Ray lead him back down to the common areas, and bit back the questions about Mikey that kept popping into his head. Like, where was the medical lab, and what precisely was the doctor doing to reverse his memory loss? Part of his brain was screaming at him to go find Mikey, watch him - He's with his family now, dumbass, Bob told himself firmly. He doesn't need you to protect him.
However, Mikey had been right earlier - someone inside the Way compound had to have helped kidnap him. And that didn't make Bob rest easy, even after he was ensconced in a luxurious room with the softest bed he'd probably ever slept on. He laid down, but stared at the ceiling for a long time.
A loud buzz woke Bob out of a sound sleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping - nothing in the room displayed the time - but he shook off the lethargy when he realized the buzz was from the door. When he opened it, he found Mikey staring at him. "Sorry," Mikey said, looking at Bob's rumpled clothing and hair. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." Bob stepped aside and let Mikey into the room. "What happened?"
Mikey shrugged. "He injected me with something. Then I had to lay there for a long time, to make sure I didn't pass out or something. It was kinda boring." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Actually, I talked to Lindsey for a while. She's not bad. I guess we're actually friends, you know, when I remember."
"Probably." Bob leaned against a wall across from Mikey. "You don't remember yet? Did the antidote not work?"
"No, it's working. The doctor says it takes a couple of days to fully kick in. He warned me I might not feel anything until at least tomorrow. But, I'm starting to remember things even now." Mike slid backwards on the large bed until his feet were danging a couple of inches from the floor. "It's like ... flashes, nothing solid, just images. I remember the candy my grandmother used to give me - I saw Gerard just now, and he confirmed that it's a real memory. I remember how I played a trick on Gerard one time and locked him outside in his pajamas. I have this one image of Pete ..." Mikey blushed. "Everywhere I walk, I get a flash of something. In Gerard's rooms, I remembered him drawing me this little comic of a guy flying through space with a little jetpack on his back. I remember having this business meeting with that solicitor guy in my private rooms. In the hallway outside of here, I remember dodging these annoying people who were staying here for some kind of business meeting. It's just ..." Mikey spread his hands wide. "I have these images, but none of them really tell me anything about how I feel about things, or who I am."
"But you're remembering. That's the good part."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?"
"I don't know." Mikey pushed himself off the bed and walked around to the small bar at the corner of the room, where he poured himself a drink of whatever beverage someone had left sitting there. "This place is weird. Even though I'm starting to remember these things, it still feels like I don't belong here. I'm all itchy, like I want to jump back on that ship and fly as far away from here as I can."
"You'll feel different once you remember everything."
"Will I?" Mikey downed his entire drink in one gulp. When he went to pour himself another one, Bob crossed the room and took the bottle out of his hand. Mikey scowled and leaned on the bar. "I wish we hadn't come here."
"No you don't."
"Fuck you." Mikey didn't look up. "If we hadn't come here, I wouldn't feel so goddamned guilty for not knowing my brother. I could barely look at him, Bob. He's just so devastated, every time he remembers that I don't remember. It's like I'm letting him down."
"How? Because a bunch of assholes kidnapped you?"
"Because I was apparently stupid enough to let myself get kidnapped."
"That's a bunch of bullshit." At that, Mikey looked up. Bob frowned at him. "Who the hell expects to be kidnapped out of their own home? If there's anywhere you should have felt safe, it was here. So it's not your fault. None of it is."
"I don't know," Mikey said again. He stood up and leaned heavily against the bar. "I just wish ..."
Mikey fell silent. His eyes searched Bob's face; Bob felt himself flush under the intense scrutiny. Mikey tenatively rested his hand on top of the one Bob had on the bar. The physical sensation startled Bob, but he instinctively turned his hand over and grasped Mikey's. Mikey leaned closer. Bob's brain didn't register what was about to happen until Mikey had pressed his lips against Bob's. Bob's grip on Mikey's hand tightened, which caused Mikey to make a small sound against Bob's mouth. Bob felt the tiny vibration all over his skin, which made him lift his other hand to Mikey's hip to steady himself. Mikey pulled back just a tiny bit; his nose brushed against Bob's as he looked at Bob questioningly. His breath was warm, and smelled slightly of the alcohol that he'd just consumed. A warning sparked in Bob's brain, but then Mikey laid his free hand on Bob's chest, and the contact drove Bob to lean back in and capture Mikey's mouth.
Bob lost track of time, of right and wrong - for those minutes, all he knew was Mikey's mouth, warm and wet and insistent, Mikey's slender body pressed flush against his, his hands that came to rest on either side of Bob's neck, his fingers curling in the ends of Bob's hair. When they separated, Mikey leaned his forehead against Bob's and kept his eyes closed. Bob studied the shadows his eyelashes made against his cheeks. When Mikey murmured Bob's name, Bob's brain finally kicked back in, and he stepped backwards, out of Mikey's grasp. Mikey's eyes snapped open. "Mikey ...." Bob rubbed his cheeks, feeling the slight growth of whiskers drag against his hands. "Fuck, I don't ..."
When Bob trailed off, Mikey's face tightened into a blank expression Bob had seen enough times in the past week to recognize. "Sorry," he said, turning back to the bar.
"Mikey. Mikey," he repeated, until Mikey looked back up at him again. "I just don't want ... I don't want you to do anything you'll regret when you get your memory back."
"You don't have any idea what I'd regret." Mikey pushed away from the bar and walked away. Halfway across the room, he stopped and turned around. "That stupid drug didn't make me a moron, you know."
"I know. That's not what I ..." Bob closed his eyes. His hand, leaning on the bar, found the bottle he'd taken from Mikey, and in a moment of frustration he shoved it hard enough that it thumped to the ground on the opposite side of the bar. When he opened his eyes, Mikey was staring at him, bright eyes the only sign of emotion on his face. "You could remember anything over the next few days. A boyfriend, a girlfriend. I don't ..." Bob took a deep breath. "I don't just want to be here because I'm the only person you fucking know right now."
"Is that what you think?" Mikey turned around, then turned back quickly and crossed back to Bob. "So you do think the drug made me an idiot. Fuck off."
"I don't -" When Mikey stopped in front of him, Bob's willpower snapped. "Fuck this." He grabbed Mikey and kissed him, hard and fast, pulling Mikey close enough that he could feel the other man's erratic heartbeat against his chest. Mikey barely resisted; after only a second, he wrapped his arms around Bob and dug his fingers into his back. He backed Bob back into the bar. For such a skinny guy, he was surprisingly strong, and Bob began to feel his body react to Mikey as he pressed against him. Mikey groaned incoherently.
Suddenly, something beeped loudly. Neither man reacted until the beeping continued. On the fifth repeated beep, Mikey tore himself away and cursed creatively. "What the fuck is that?"
"It sounds like it's coming from you," Bob said.
Neither one of them moved right away, but when the beeping wouldn't stop, Mikey stepped away and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small communicator. "Lindsey gave it to me," he explained, making a sour face at the device. Finally, he pressed a button, and the beeping stopped. Gerard's voice came out of the small speaker. "Mikey?"
"Yeah?" Mikey responded, turning away from Bob.
"Can you come up to my rooms? The doctor's here, he has some things to ask you. I guess he wants to make sure everything's working right."
Mikey was still and silent for a moment. Bob watched his back hunch over slightly. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
When Mikey closed the connection and turned back to Bob, Bob nodded. "Go on."
"You coming?"
Bob shook his head. "No. You should ... go, talk to your brother. It'll probably help."
Mikey's expression closed off. "Right." He shoved the communicator back into his pocket and turned around. He left the room without saying another word.
When he was gone, Bob retrieved the bottle from the floor - closed and unharmed, thanks to the soft carpeting in the room - and opened it. He drank straight from the bottle. By the time he'd finished, the bottle was half empty. He took the bottle back to the bed, and finished it off as he spent the rest of the evening staring at old vid programs.
His door didn't buzz again.
Part Five