Walk forward, into the world

Title: Walk forward, into the world
Author: Ainzfern
Genre: Ai no Kusabi – Post OVA
Code: Iason/Riki
Rating: NC-17
Parts: WIP – 11/?

Stepping onto the balcony outside the grand function hall of Partia, Chey Neeson, chief federation government delegate to the Tanagura trade mission, pulled in deep breath and enjoyed the rare luxury of a moment to himself. He really wasn’t much of a fan of these so-called ‘formal after parties’ that seemed to follow on after practically every single official agreement that was ratified on the worlds of Amoi these days.

Although this one hadn’t been so bad. Low key, reasonably quiet, fine food and pleasant music and, happily in Chey’s opinion, very little in the way of appearances by Pets or prostitutes.

Chey smiled slightly, walking to the far corner of the balcony somewhat slightly out of the main line of sight from the function hall. He suspected that the reserved nature of this party had a great deal to do with Iason Mink. The Elite was obviously the kind of man who would certainly have made every effort to find out his VIP Guest’s particular preferences, and accommodate them accordingly.

Tall and square jawed and handsome, with the solid broad shoulders of a laborer and the sharp blue eyes of a true politician, Chey Neeson was not at all ashamed of his rather humble beginnings in life. Indeed, he truly felt that being born and raised on one of the less prosperous and slightly more unsophisticated worlds under federation alliance had blessed him with a unique perspective on the more sumptuous cultures; and a certain pragmatism and solid work-ethic that had come to be known by his senate colleagues as his own particular hallmark.

This was not to say that Chey had anything but acceptance and respect for Amoi and its ways, even if some of those ways left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

He knew very well that some of his parliamentary predecessors, the repulsive Mr. Hazell a prime example, had taken every opportunity to indulge themselves in the worst manner of behavior that the cultural differences of Amoi allowed. Constant Pet parties, the indulgence of fleshly pleasures in the frail bodies of young men and women… some of their behaviors had been utterly scandalous, and appallingly constant. It was incredible to Chey that they’d ever found the time to do any actual work.

He understood about the Pets of Amoi. It was culturally and legally accepted here and in many of the satellite worlds connected with the Amoian regime.

But, personally, privately… It made him uncomfortable.

Of course, he was enough of a professional to never, under any circumstances, allow his own opinions to jeopardize his government’s position here, but nevertheless…

The knowledge that Iason Mink did not actually keep pets anymore, of any kind, was something that had endeared him to Chey Neeson as soon as he’d heard it. It was actually somewhat of a scandal, to hear the other Elites he’d met talk about it. They were a little closed-mouthed about the full details but, from what Chey had been able to find out, Iason was quite unique from many of his Elite peers in that he did not indulge in the usual pastimes quite freely available to them. No auctions, no Pets, only rare appearances in Eos central, and then only to have a fine meal in the company of Raoul Am, his close associate.

It seemed that Chey had found a rather kindred spirit in the tall and elegant leader of the Tanagura syndicate, and he couldn’t deny that the thought pleased him.

A comparatively decent man. A hard working man. A man who put his duties before his pleasures.

Yes… It really was no wonder that Chey Neeson rather liked him.

A light footfall behind him alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone and he turned, smiling when he saw the very object of his recent ponderings walking towards him, a glass of wine in each hand, one of which he offered to Chey with an urbane nod. “I had a feeling I might find you out here, Chey,” he said softly, amusement lacing his soft and elegant voice.

Chey accepted the wine, sipping it with evident approval. “Yes. Well,” he huffed a little chuckle, “There’s really only so much chatting about the weather that a man like me can tolerate, Iason,” he replied, easily falling into the more relaxed manner of address they used with each other outside of their official dealings.

“And are you pleased enough regarding the outcome of the trade talks?” Iason gave him a very direct look over the rim of his glass.

Chey tilted his head slightly. “Well, I got that extra point on the reserve price that I wanted, so I would have to say yes.”

“I bow to your mastery in the art of negotiation, Chey.”

Chey loosed a full throated laugh. “Rubbish,” he declared, his mouth twitching with rueful amusement, “You wiped the damned floor with me and we both know it.”

“So, your transport is scheduled for the day after tomorrow,” Iason set his glass down on one of the small tables dotted about the balcony, “I believe I’ll be rather sad to see you go. It was somewhat refreshing to do business with an honest man for a change.”

Chey arched a brow at him. “Oh, I should think we’ll have reason to cross paths again at some stage, my friend.”

“This pleases me,”

“I must confess, Iason, I am glad enough to be heading back soon,” Chey rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, “There’s a project of mine that I’m rather keen to get off the ground,” he grimaced a little, “Even if it is a somewhat daunting task that lies ahead of me.”

Looking at him with renewed interest, Iason leaned forward slightly. “This sounds intriguing. May I know the details?”

“Why? Looking to fleece me on something else, are you?”

Iason held a hand, smiling tolerantly. “Purely personal curiosity, I swear.”

“All right,” Chey took a deep breath. “Essentially, the idea has been tabled in the senate to terra-form part of Hepstra, specifically the continent closest to the raw fuel deposits. We want to build a state of the art refinery right there to save having to transport the raw material for processing elsewhere. It’s a method we’ve used in the past to establish working colonies and create new employment opportunities. From a logistical long-term point of view, it’s far less of a drain on the federation economy to have a stable community-based work force right on the location of the mine.”

“Indeed,” Iason nodded, his mouth pursing slightly with thought, “We’ve used similar programs ourselves to colonize worlds off from Amoi.”

“Yes,” Chey took another sip of wine. “My issue, however, is one of immediate financial prudence. I want this done fast, and my challenge, is to locate a workforce of approximately five thousand souls, who are willing to re-locate to an entirely new world.”

“I see,” Iason looked out across the cityscape for a moment. “I take it federation citizens aren’t exactly queuing up for the opportunity?”

“Oh, a few have,” Chey shrugged, “But not as many as I’d hoped. They know it’s going to be hard work establishing a new colony. And although the federation government will provide leadership support and law enforcement to help them get started, the real benefits to the new residents, the real money, won’t become evident to the colonists until the processing plant is fully operational and profitable. It means a year of sweat and toil, and basic living conditions until the profits start to roll in. After that, of course, you’ll see thousands of citizens lining up to transport over.”

He wound his oration to a close when he noticed that Iason’s expression had grown almost blank, those strikingly pale eyes wide and distant.

“Iason?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

Almost seeming to shake himself back to the present, Iason blinked and looked at him again. “Hmm?”

“Are you quite all right? You drifted away for a moment, there.”

Iason smiled at him, an odd gleam in his eyes. He wet his lips and peered closely at Chey’s face, his sharp eyes taking in every nuance of his expression. “What would you say if I told you I might be able to help you with your man-management problem?”

“Well, I’d probably be very interested,” Chey looked at him, a puzzled frown forming on his face. “What? Are you telling me that you can snap those elegant fingers of yours and produce a work-force that large out of thin air?”

Iason’s expression grew distant once more as he nodded, a slow smile forming on his rich mouth, “Chey?” He replied. “I might be able to do just that. We’ll need to discuss terms, of course. Finder’s fees, contractual tithes, and the like - but I have connections with a man who would be more than willing, I believe, to help you facilitate this.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am.” Iason’s gaze flicked towards the function hall and he nodded shortly, obviously acknowledging a call for attention from within. “Do you have a project dossier with you?”

“In my room here at Partia, yes.”

“Good.” With a wave of one hand, Iason graciously indicated for Chey to join him as he walked back into the hall. “Bring it with you to my private residence at Eos Tower tomorrow afternoon. We’ll talk then.”

“And this mysterious contact of yours? Will he be there, too?”

“Oh yes,” Iason glanced sideways at him, a surprising amount of humor sparkling in his eyes. “He’ll be there.”

******


Riki sighed softly as he unpacked his satchel and walked into the spacious dressing room just off from the Penthouse’s main bedroom. As he placed his clothes away, then headed into the grand bathroom to stack his rather minimal toiletries into the vanity cabinet, he couldn’t shake the oddest feeling that, somehow, he was overstepping the mark in some way by doing this.

He was putting his own belongings into Iason’s bathroom. Hanging his own clothes, admittedly not many of them, next to Iason’s in his wardrobe.

He figured it was some kind of residual conditioning that was causing this feeling. When he had been Iason’s Pet, he had been given his own room at the rear of the Penthouse. He had been expected to place any of his personal items there, out of the way, only entering the main bedroom when Iason ordered him to.

But now?

Well, he knew that Iason had told him he was welcome in here. That this was his room as much as it was Iason’s, now.

He knew he was no longer a Pet.

He knew that the old rules no longer applied.

Riki heaved another sigh and ran his fingers through his dark tussled hair, looking once more around the bedroom. Yeah, he knew all of that shit.

... But it still felt fuckin’ weird.

Turning, he padded out of the room and towards the Penthouse balcony. As he passed by the spacious galley kitchen he saw Dane, quiet as ever, obviously preparing the evening meal for his master’s return. He drew to a halt, thinking for a moment as he watched the young Furniture. Then, with a decisive nod, he sauntered over to the arched entranceway of the kitchen and leaned against one side of it, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans and a slight smile on his face.

After a few moments, Dane appeared to notice he was there, pausing in his task and staring back at him, his expression tense and closed off. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Riki?” he asked the question as if the honorific of Riki’s name was sticking in his throat.

Riki snorted.

Snobs. Every caste had ‘em. Even the lowest ones.

“Well, for a start,” Riki replied “You can never call me that again, kid. Just ‘Riki’ will do.”

Dane’s eyes widened slightly. He straightened up; carefully setting aside the knife he’d been using and stepping away from his chopping board, meeting Riki’s gaze with a question looming large on his face.

“Go ahead,” Riki told him, noting his hesitancy. “Ask it. Say it.” He shrugged as if it were of no matter at all. “Whatever.”

“You’re not a Pet.” Dane declared softly, his brow creasing slightly.

“No,” Riki shook his head slightly. “No I’m not.”

“And you’re a slum mongrel.”

Riki smirked at him, delighting in the barest hint of outrage his could see in Dane’s face. “Yep.”

Dane glanced down at his feet for a moment, before lifting his chin again. “I heard Master Iason say that you work for Katze, is that true?”

“Yeah.” Riki shifted his stance slightly, getting more comfortable. “It’s not the best money in the world, but I earn my own way.”

Dane swallowed, obviously struggling with the next question.

Taking pity on him, Riki sighed. “Listen, I’m not in the business of telling tales. You can speak you mind, okay?”

“Why are you here?” Dane blurted, his deep anxiety now very apparent. “If you’re not here to serve Iason, then why are you here?”

Riki blew his cheeks out slightly over a deep sigh. “To tell you the truth, kid, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.” He shrugged, ‘But I’ll tell you why I’m not here. I’m not here to push you out of your position. I’m not here to take over any of the things that you do. From what I see, you do a good job here running the household to Iason’s standards, and I’m not here to get in the way of that.” He smiled a little. “Besides, as we already know, I have a job. I’m not looking for another one.”

Dane relaxed slightly, nodding at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Riki pushed away from the arch frame. “Oh… and don’t feel like you have to treat me like I’m anything special, even when Iason is around. I’m no better than you, Dane, and I’ll get pissed off pretty quickly if you start treating me like I am.”

Blinking, startled, Dane vented a shocked little laugh.

Riki grinned at him, his stance softening a little. “That’s better. I think we’ll get along okay, Dane. I just wanted you to know that I don’t have any kind of vendetta, or any shit like that, against you. You just do your thing… I’ll do mine. Deal?”

Dane nodded firmly. “Deal.” The young Furniture moved to his work before pausing again, looking back at Riki. “Can I ask you something?” he inquired softly, tension once more entering his voice.

“I guess,” Riki peered at him, noting his discomfort. “What?”

“I heard that…” Dane broke off, wetting his lips and trying again. “They said that- -“

“They?” Riki frowned.

“The other Elites,” Dane clarified.

“Oh.” Riki heaved another sigh. “Right. Them. Okay, what did they say?”

“They said that Master Iason was in love with you. Back before, when you were his… his Pet.”

Riki’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Dane’s eyes grew very wide, but he forged ahead. “They said that nothing like that had ever happened before.”

Silently, Riki waited for Dane to continue.

“Is that true?” Dane asked him, almost desperately. “Is Master Iason in love with you? Is that why you’re back?”

“Dane…” Riki lifted one hand the back of his neck, trying to rub the tension away. “I’m not actually sure about that, either. But you are dead right about one thing. This hasn’t ever happened before.”

“I am loyal to Master Iason, Riki,” Dane said seriously, his look suddenly very direct, his chin jutting out defiantly. “He’s a decent man. And he’s always been fair to me. I’m worried, I don’t think I should deny that, about the fact that you are here again. I’m worried about what it might possibly mean for him.”

“That’s fair.” Riki lifted one shoulder briefly. “I guess I would be too, if I was you. But, kid, don’t ever underestimate Iason Mink. That’s not smart. He’s got a plan in all of this. There’s no way that me being here is going to bring him any kind of trouble that he won’t be able to handle. I can guarantee you that much.”

“You’re sure?” Dane’s eyes were filled with the barest hope.

Riki grinned. “About this? Hell yeah.” With one final nod, he turned and left the kitchen and its profoundly preoccupied silence, behind him.

TBC…