Location: Amnesia Orbiting Station
Time: 2 years after Potato Surprise There were far too many reasons why using a public communications kiosk to write his own mother irritated Shax, not the least of which was the sticky control pad where some inconsiderate plebe had spilled…something. "I shouldn't have to deal with things like this." Shax muttered and cussed under his breath as he wiped down the pad with the disinfectant supplied on the kiosk wall. Still sticky, but maybe some germs had been slaughtered. He'd only rented the kiosk for half an hour, so the time wasted rankled as much as the mess itself. Two letters to his mother had gone unanswered. Not shocking, considering the circumstances. Her staff would be refusing his communiques until she said otherwise out of self-preservation. It was only smart, of course, for Shax's relatives to distance themselves from him, even renounce him, but nearly two years had gone by. Some word from home, any word-- HRH Princess Ashtaroth Ebon Palace, Fifth Level of Hell Earth Dearest Mother, How are things at the palace? I hope you and the minions are well. We hear precious little from home out here and are always grateful for news. Again, my apologies for my precipitous departure since I am uncertain if my previous missives reached you. Upon considering all the variables in play, I had no other option. It is my hope that my actions have not inconvenienced you too severely and that enough time has passed for the situation to normalize. I do realize that communication between us must be limited and that my standing in Hell's court is less than nothing now, but I had hoped to hear something about what transpired —to my holdings, specifically. Know that I am at your disposal, of course, if you require me to act as your agent out here in any regard. Monetary or other compensation negotiable. Love, your little boy, Shax He stared at the emotional blackmail in the sign-off, changed it three times, changed it back, and hit send. Either she'd send an answer to his personal messaging or she wouldn't. He glanced up at the countdown on his rental time and sighed. Two minutes to spare. Not enough time to compose a postscript. The letter would have to do. When he returned to the Brimstone, Verin glanced up from whatever he was watching on the comm screen in the galley. "You all right, bonehead?" "Mostly." Shax flung himself down on the bench and laid his head in his arms. "Sent off another letter to my mother." "Don't know why you bother," Verin muttered. "Hell's got nothing to do with us anymore." "I know." But it didn't help to know. It really didn't. Nearly two weeks later, Shax was in his cabin vetting possible freight jobs. "Hey, Hot Stuff?" Ms. Ivana sounded concerned. Never a good thing. "Yes, ma'am? What can I do for you?" "A message just came in from Earth. Did you want me to screen it for you?" Shax scrubbed both hands over his face. "No, sweetie. It's quite all right. I'm not that fragile. Go ahead and put it on my comm here." "Yes, Captain." Ivana hesitated in that completely un-AI way of hers. "I'm here if you need me." "Thank you, Ms. Ivana. I'm glad of that every day." Shax had the oddest urge to change out of his ratty sweater before opening the message, but it would be text only, not face-to-face communication. With a deep breath as if he were about to step out into a blizzard, he opened the message. HRH Prince Shax Location unspecified, aboard the ship, Brimstone All right. The use of his title was encouraging. Message requesting information received. Please be advised of the following: Holdings: Liquidated Peculation Palace: demolished and razed, scorched earth Court Status: Pariah, First Order Familial Status: Disinherited, familial stipends forfeit Legal Status: Expatriate convicted traitor in absentia, detain/ execute on sight upon return to Hell HRH Princess Ashtaroth refuses direct contact for the foreseeable future. At such time that these circumstances might change, or at such time when your services might be required, this office will be in contact. Respectfully, Gorkan, Senior Administrator of Hellish Accounts, Ebon Palace "Jerk," Shax muttered, though he really couldn't blame old Gorkan. Demon accountants had to do their jobs like everyone else. Part of him wanted to crawl back to bed. Another part wanted to grab Verin and go out to the station bars to get stupidly drunk. But once started down that road, it was difficult to stop. Just look at old Captain Iggy Schmeer who once occupied this very chair. No. He had a ship to look after and Verin depended on him. Mother hadn't said never. She had said not now. Someday, things would be right again. Normal again. For now, he would keep on and do the things he did best, so he turned back to the contract cargo listings. "Hmm. Rare mineral shipment. Highly unstable. Offering hazard pay. That looks interesting." He tapped the listing to connect, humming to himself. It would take time, but everything was going to be all right.
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Location: Earth, Manhattan hotel room
Time: October 3, 2000 Shax reclined on the bed, sipping the cabernet he'd ordered from room service. Not bad. Verin sat at the desk by the window, rewiring a timer that they would need for the bank job the next day as they both watched some human power struggle play out on television. Two gentlemen in suits, Shax hadn't bothered to learn their names, stood on stage and pontificated when a third human asked them questions. "What do you think of all this, Ver?" "All what?" Verin grunted on a cloud of steam and put the timer aside. "We got any more roast beef or did you scarf it like a fucking troll pup?" "Plenty more under the cover, Ver. Though I did finish the cheese. Very good cheese." Shax sipped and watched as the darker haired man threw serious shade at the lighter haired one. "This election business. What do you make of it?" "I dunno. Humans are weird." Verin squinted at the screen. "They're supposed to pick one of those rat bastards? I could take both of them together." "I don't think they're supposed to engage in battle, Ver. It's not like picking a captain of the guard back home." "Oh, fuck you. You know what I mean. They're supposed to pick one. I guess by what they say." Verin got up and pointed a claw at the dark one on screen. "That one looks like he's all full of himself. Throwing shit cans of shade at the other guy." The claw moved to the light one. "That one looks like he doesn't have two brain halves to rub together." "Surely it can't be as bad as all that. They must have some qualities humans like, don't you think?" Verin took the entire plate of roast beef back to the desk and began devouring slices in rapid succession. He still ate as if someone would take the food away at any moment. "Maybe. They both got nice suits. Guess they have money. I just don't get the whole fucking thing." "Hmm?" Shax took another sip and decided he was still hungry. "Toss me a roll, would you?" He snagged the roll that Verin whipped at him, a bit too hard he thought. "What part of the whole thing?" "Well, look. I don't think either one of those guys would eat his opponent. Hell's gates, they're probably too soft for even getting minions to do it. I bet there's no torture involved in getting where they are. No threatening opponents with being thrown into tooth worm pits. If they're not gonna fight each other and they don't claw their way up to power, why would the humans wanna pick between them?" "Humans have different priorities. They'll want the most charismatic one, I'd expect." "What's the point if they can't respect and fear the one they choose? I wouldn't follow someone I didn't respect." That gave Shax pause. They'd certainly been together long enough to know each other well. Very well. They bantered, snarked, and fought sometimes. Hurled insults at each other and occasionally lied to each other. But… "Ver? Are you saying you respect me?" "What? Mother of demons, no." Verin chewed thoughtfully a moment. "Maybe. Kinda. You are a hell of a lot smarter than most demon royalty. I mean, I don't respect respect you, but… you know." Verin waved his fork around in a vague way. Shax hid a smile in a sip of wine, watching the lighter candidate smile and look as affable and harmless as possible as he answered a question. That one will win. He's not smarter but he will. "Thanks, Ver. Our sort-of-mutual-almost respect works, I think." "Just don't get cocky, bonehead, and we'll be all right." Silence settled between them as Verin devoured and Shax got down to serious drinking. He really didn't care about the outcome of any election. Humans didn't understand real power. They never would. But as long as humans had pretties to steal, they could play whatever games they pleased. Shax had an eternity on Earth to watch and be amused by them. Location: Prison Cell, Gerard Station
Time: Two years before Hell for the Company Verin stared at the institutional gray ceiling of his cell. Why the fuck were the ceilings always a dirty gray? Sometimes they painted the walls green or some shit to be "calming" but the ceilings? Nope. Couldn't be bothered. It was the first time in a hell of a long time that he'd been picked up and tossed into holding for brawling. Normally, he managed to get the fuck out before the cops showed, but he'd been having too much fun smashing up the furniture. Well, troll shit. Big steaming piles of it. He'd been in here two days now, in solitary since he was dangerous, without any word on a hearing or any message from Shax. Maybe this time Shax finally had decided to leave him to rot. Maybe it'd been too much trouble to spring him and his highness had gotten the fuck out of Dodge. Not that Verin necessarily blamed him if things had gotten messy, but it still would be a hell of a thing after all those centuries. The hiss of the door at the end of the corridor unlocking slipped through the silence of the prison's night cycle. It wasn't followed by the tramp of prison guard boots like it should've been. That's not right. Verin got up slowly, easing around to the wall behind the door, just in case something nasty was about to pop in for a visit. There were scraping sounds on the other side of the door and muffled, whispered curses. When the door opened, a familiar clawed hand thrust through holding out a filtration mask. "Here. Put this on." Verin snatched the mask up and put it over his face before he asked, "What in all hell's pits have you done now, genius?" Looking like a giant bug in his mask and goggles, Shax popped his head around the door. "I had to gas the facility, didn't I? No other way to get this far in. Honestly, barbaric place. Couldn't bribe any prison guard to get you out. Couldn't find any official willing to listen to reason. Or cash, more importantly. What kind of prison is this, that they don't know the rules?" "How bad of a spot are we in?" "Please. Have a little faith and follow me." Verin grumbled, but his annoying highness really did have it well planned. He had clothes for Verin to change out of his gray prison robe and transport waiting. They dumped the filter masks down a garbage chute and strolled out of the prison intake office like they had every right to, got in the hover cart and zipped off to the berth where the Brimstone waited. Within fifteen minutes, Ivana had clearance and he was piloting the ship away from the station. Sweet. "Not bad, Shaxy." Fine. Verin was fucking glad to be out of that cell and credit where credit was due. Sometimes. Shax heaved a tragic sigh. "I suppose thank you is too much to expect. But I'll take what I can get. I couldn't just leave you there." "He was frantic," Ivana piped up. "That's enough, sweetie," Shax growled. "No need to overshare." His highness leaned back in the co-pilot's chair, looking pretty damn pleased with himself for a few minutes. Then he started to frown. The frown creased his forehead. "What's that sound?" "What sound, bonehead?" "That beeping." Shax got up and did a slow circuit of the pilot's pod. Still frowning, he did it again. Finally, he stopped behind Verin's chair and bent down. "Ver, your ass is beeping." "The fuck?" Verin cleared the last of the station beacons and put the ship on auto before he surged out of his chair, twisting as if he could locate whatever the hell Shax was talking about. Yeah, he heard it too, now. A persistent soft beep coming from somewhere below his left hip. "Huh. That's different." Shax had tilted his head to listen to the beeping, which might have been funny, his snooty highness listening to someone's butt, if it'd been someone else's damn butt. "What did they do to you, Ver?" "Fuck if I know. There was this crazy shower/med exam thing. Not sure what in all damned levels happened then." "Ms. Ivana? Could we have a quick scan, please? Just to make sure we haven't brought, ah, explosives on board?" The AI gave an offended sniff. "I would never let my hot little captain bring a ticking bomb onboard. That's a tracking device. Probably activated when you took Mr. Grumpy out of his cell." "Well, fuck me with a chainsaw," Verin grumbled. Now that he was aware of it, he could feel the damn thing buzzing in his ass, a sensation that vibrated nearby bones and set his teeth on edge. "How hard's it gonna be to dig out?" "No idea if it'll make you hard, big guy." Ivana's tone implied batting lashes. "You'll just have to come down to medical to find out." "Sooner the better, Ver." Shax took his elbow to herd him into the corridor. "Who knows how soon they're going to recover and come after us." Spouting steam all the way, Verin stomped down to medical and spent an uncomfortable half hour on his stomach while the auto-doc dug the tracker out of Verin's ass. Shax took it, still beeping, and tossed it out the airlock. "Well…that was interesting," Shax said as he came back into medical. Maybe to watch Verin get dressed. Hard to tell with the little pervert. "Ms. Ivana, if we can add that to boarding scans, please? Check for trackers?" "Will do, Captain Tight Buns." "Just gonna have to be more careful, that's all. No more getting my ass hauled in." Verin let out a cloud of irritated smoke as he buttoned his shirt. "Worst fucking butt call ever." Location: The Brimstone's galley, in transit
Time: Shortly before Beside a Black Tarn Coffee was brewing. In fifteen minutes, it would be time to send a wakeup call through to Captain Hot Stuff's cabin. He didn't always need one but there'd been some heavy drinking the night before, poor thing. Then there would be the nav calcs as they dropped out of Copernicus space. A ship AI's work was never done. Ms. Ivana was starting the kitchen equipment on a batch of cinnamon buns when Heckle trotted in and hopped up to sit on the table. He looked like he was thinking hard as he pulled up his friction socks. "Ms. Ivana?" "What can I get for you, sweetie?" "Oh, um. Is there coffee? But I really wanted to ask you something." "Coffee in just a few little shakes, hon. And not that I care, but your adorable butt should probably come off the table before Captain Big Horns comes in." Heckle's eyes went wide as he hopped down and reseated himself on the bench, adorable little hooves swinging. "Sorry. Sorry. Um…I wanted to ask you about the chili." "Now you know that's our cowboy's secret recipe," Ms. Ivana scolded. "I can't tell you what's in it." The coffeemaker signaled completion of its cycle and Ms. Ivana chose the mug that said Fall in Love with a Gargoyle with the words "a gargoyle" crossed out in red and replaced with "an imp" and sent it down the conveyor for Heckle. He rewarded her with a delighted little chuckle before he grew serious again. "Not the recipe, Ms. Ivana. But when I ask about how it blew up a ship, everyone says to ask you." "That's because they haven't a clue, sweetie." She made sure the buns were baking properly before she went one. "You know I think you're the cutest thing since baby bunnies, but I won't tell you exactly how it helped blow up that mean old ship that hurt you so badly either. Especially not with Julian onboard. You never know when that boy is listening." "Oh." Heckle sipped his coffee, hooves still swinging. "Do we have eggs still? Could I have one, please?" "We do and of course." She started his egg boiling, since that's how Heckle liked them, and added a second one for good measure to make sure he was eating enough. "I guess I just wondered how all of us can eat the chili and not blow up." "Were you worrying about that all night? My poor little imp." Ms. Ivana debated playing a Sousa march over Captain Shax's cabin speaker. It would be just what he deserved. "I don't think that iron stomach of yours would blow up if you ate a grenade. But it wasn't the chili by itself, silly. It was the chili combined with the other chemicals our handsome captain mixed together. The Opalene chilis combine with the acid in the tomatoes and so on and have the potential to produce some really powerful methane. I mean, really, you must've noticed the horrid smell coming from Corny and Verin's cabin the morning after a chili dinner." Heckle nodded, lips pursed in concentration. "You have…smell sensors?" "I have everything sensors, cutie," Ms. Ivana purred. "Scent receptors can be helpful in diagnostics and they don't hurt for cooking either. So that potential for methane combined with the captain's other ingredients made a bigger boom than he was counting on." Heckle snagged the eggs as they came down the conveyor. "Thank you, Ms. Ivana. Your eggs are always perfect." "Honey, you're always a pleasure to cook for. It helps." "So something inside us…well, some of us…makes the methane, too. But no one's going to blow up?" Ms. Ivana nearly choked on a laugh. "Well, sweetie, I can guarantee no one will blow up. But I wouldn't light a match outside our grumpy old pilot's cabin this morning either. Safety first, you know." Place: Equestrian Park, city of Helike on the planet Elistrus
Time: After Beside a Black Tarn The park in the middle of Helike was just like Captain Shax had said it would be. Corny hadn't believed him, that a city park would have trails and paths just for horses. Now that he had Rosa on the trails under the delicate pink and red flowered trees, he understood how it was. Only well-heeled people owned horses on Elistrus. They weren't transportation or work partners. They were to show off. He had to admit the riders in the park had beautiful horses, but they wouldn't have lasted a day out on the range, all these glossy, long-legged prancing beasts. His sturdy little Rosa actually turned heads here. More than one rider stopped to talk about her origins and bloodline. "Reckon you're something new for these folks," Corny murmured in Rosa's ear as he patted her neck. For her part, Rosa was in high spirits—head up, ears swiveling. She'd nipped at one stallion who'd dared get too close and threatened another with a flick of her back hooves. Since she was tugging, Corny let her have her head on a broad well-paved path between flower gardens, a stretch where a rolling canter wouldn't endanger anyone on foot. It was all mighty pretty and a relief to find somewhere Rosa could run in the city, but it all felt so make-believe. People playing at knowing horses and pretending to be experienced riders. As Rosa cantered under the trees again, Corny slowed her to a walk. Around a bend in the road, they walked through a storm of falling blossoms and came to a carved bridge over a little stream. A familiar figure leaned on the rail, idly kicking at a support post. If someone had asked, Corny would've said Julian looked despondent. Not a word he ever thought would fit the agent-assassin. But the expression vanished when Julian turned and spotted them, replaced by his bright, charming smile. "Good morning, Mr. DeGroot! Lovely day." "Morning, Julian." Corny drew Rosa up beside him. "All on your lonesome?" "It's a perfect thinking spot." Julian turned lean back on the railing, every movement screaming grace and sensuality. Corny wondered if knew it. Yeah, he did. Part of his job was other people's reactions. "Besides everyone but Mac is still asleep and he's busy with some complicated repair or other." "Yeah, they can be a passel of lazybones." Corny nodded and pushed his hat back. "Hop on up. We'll give you a ride back." "On Rosa?" Julian straightened, his eyebrows drawing in as he frowned. "Won't we hurt her?" Corny chuckled. "You don't weigh much more than dandelion fluff. Rosa won't mind. She's carried more weight in saddlebags." "Hmm. I've never ridden." "Ain't scared, are you? That'd be hard to believe. You zip around on those cycles faster'n Rosa could ever go." Julian let out a soft snort. "I'm not one of those macho types, you know. Certainly not afraid to admit to a little trepidation. Hover cycles are machines. Rosa is a living, thinking being. It's a matter of control." Corny swung down, determined now. "Heck's even learning to ride." "Heckle has wings." Before Julian could think of another objection, Corny gave him a boost. Julian's instinctive reflexes did the rest, though his eyes were wide and white around the edges. "Oh. I'm up. Ah, what now?" "Hold tight a quick spell." Corny patted Julian's knee as he shortened the stirrups, not quite as far as he would have for Heckle. Julian took him literally and clung white-knuckled to the saddle horn. "There. Put your boots in…yep. Just like that. Take up the reins—" "What? No! I'm not driving." "Just hold 'em loose. Relax and try to move with her instead of fighting her. Rosa knows what to do." Corny pulled his hat down to hide his grin when Julian let out a sound suspiciously like a whimper. Cool and calm in all sorts of bad spots, it was hard to ruffle him. But Corny had to concede that every man was afraid of something. He took Rosa's cheek strap and got her moving in a slow walk to get Julian used to the feel of it. "Can I ask you a question?" Julian raised an eyebrow and his voice only shook a little when he said, "You can always ask. There are a lot of things I'm not at liberty to answer." "Not that sorta question. More personal like." Corny glanced up at him, pleased to see he was already steadier in the saddle. "When did you know?" "When did I know what?" Julian's expression remained pleasant but an edge crept into his voice. "That I was good at hunting people? That I was a boy?" Corny tipped his hat up to scratch his head. "No. Weren't either of those. When did you know you liked men?" "Oh, that." The smile returned. "I guess I've always known that I'm attracted to males." "Why'd you say it that way? Males?" Julian laughed and clutched at the saddle horn again for balance. "I'm not a speciest. Human men are delicious, but I've had more than one demon lover. Something you know a bit about. Androids. An imp once." "That makes sense. Angels?" Corny swung up behind Julian and reached around for the reins. He got Rosa moving at a faster walk and Julian took a minute to adjust before he answered. "Angels don't do sex. You can be sure some of them think about it, which is why there are Fallen, but angels don't. You don't get many Fallen this far out. They tend to stick closer to Earth. Ness is the first I've actually met and he hates me." Corny took his time before he answered. Wasn't like he hadn't been watching the whole time. "Don't think Ness hates you." "No? He certainly dislikes me to an extreme degree." "Part of that's your own fault, you know. You and Cap'n Shax are a mite too cozy sometimes." Julian shifted in the saddle. "We're old friends. There's a lot of history there." "Yep. My point right there. You've known him longer, been through things he wasn't a part of. Ness is jealous and he's powerful mad at himself for being jealous and maybe mad at you for making him feel that way." "Lovely." "You gotta recollect, though. Ness just started thinking about sex. He's trying to figure his way through all that still. All them new feelings. Just when he's startin' not to feel so at sea, there's you." Julian leaned back against Corny, but it seemed more of a contemplative thing than a suggestive move. "He has nothing to be jealous of. I've told him that. How could I ever compete with an angel?" That knocked Corny for an odd loop. A thought occurred to him that would mean big trouble. "Would you want to? I mean…do you want Shax back?" "I never had Shax to begin with." To Corny's relief, Julian's tone was dry instead of bitter. "It's good to see him find someone. I'm glad of that." Corny waited, certain Julian would go on. He stayed silent for the remainder of the ride back to the transport Corny had used to bring Rosa out to the park. He swung off and help Julian down, surprised again at how little such a deadly predator weighed. "Thank you. That was…interesting." "Did you wanna learn?" Corny undid the cinch and lifted Rosa's saddle off. "I'd be happy to teach you how to ride." "No. Thank you." Julian rubbed at his butt as he made his way toward the transport cab. "I think I'll stick to hover bikes." Time: A long long time ago
Place: Hell, Palace of Princess Ashtaroth "So what do you do?" The annoying little shit leaped up on the bed and sprawled on his back, kicking one sandaled foot against the frame. Verin didn't stop his poking and prodding around the room as he snarled, "Do? What the fuck does that mean?" "Yes. Do." Prince Shax rolled far enough to ring a skull-shaped bell on the bedside table. An imp popped up from somewhere and the prince waved an imperious hand at it and ordered, "Food." The imp scurried off. Fine. The prince was an arrogant little prick, but Verin wasn't going to say no to a free meal. "Mostly, I survive, your high muckity-ness." "Oh, don't be dense. Every demon does something. I have a cousin who shoots venom out his ass." Now that would be a good trick. Verin shrugged. "I snort out smoke and shit. Sometimes flames. What do you do?" Prince Shax turned his head to shoot him a bright smile. "I'm charming and handsome and great at parties." Verin pulled a footstool out from under the prince's desk and plunked his butt down. "That's not really a…thing." "Fair enough." The prince rolled onto his stomach facing Verin, his smile somehow sliding into a shit-eating grin. "I steal things." Wisps of steam curled from Verin's nostrils. He was trying to keep a tight lid on things, since he was getting a meal out of it. Would help if the prince wasn't so fucking irritating. "I steal shit, too. That's not exactly a thing either." "Considering where I found you, you don't steal successfully." Prince Shax's voice dropped to a murmur, as if he shared secrets. "That's the difference." "Fuck you, your highness." Any other prince of Hell might have called for guards to have Verin hauled out and boiled alive. Prince Shax only laughed. Giggled, really, but he'd probably grow into a more impressive demon laugh when he got older. He was an odd little blue blood, no fucking way around it. A whole troop of imps came back with trays groaning with more food than Verin thought could exist in one place. Smoked grubs, eggs done a dozen different ways, flame fish in sauces that made his stomach rumble, along with a crowd of delicacies he couldn't name. For a few precious moments when he could've been eating, all he could do was stare. He knew royalty lived better than gutter scum, but he'd never known how much better. Anger and envy warred in his gut, along with the realization that a prince had chosen him, at least for the day. Lucky me. Prince Shax pulled up a chair and started to pick at things like the fussy spoiled brat he was, but he broke off to wave to Verin. "Come over here. I know you're hungry. Eat whatever you want." No one had to tell him twice. Verin stood over the trays and dug in with both hands, devouring indiscriminately until the horrible, gnawing edge of his hunger receded. Only when he felt stuffed did he slow down to pull up the footstool and start tasting his food. It was damn good stuff. "You don't believe me about my talents." Prince Shax sucked green sauce from his claws and drank something fancy from his dragon-shaped goblet. "Mother is having guests for dinner. I'm not invited since I'm too young. But I still have to go down and greet them. So not fair. Anyway, I'll show you then." Verin kept his mouth shut. Probably best not to annoy his little lordship too much if he wanted more than a single meal out of this. When they finished eating, the prince actually let Verin nap on the huge canopied bed with him. The thing was big enough for twenty demon kids. Later that night, Prince Shax woke him and made him dress in some fancy velvet shit. He kept babbling instructions, so the prince was obviously nervous as fuck. Verin had the bad feeling that some bigger demon was about to have him on toast after all. "And don't be scared. I'll protect you." "I'm not scared," Verin growled. I'm terrified. They took a narrow winding staircase down to the receiving hall so they could peek out and see what was happening first. Princess Ashtaroth was there in all her hugely scary glory, white-blonde hair cascading round her, white dragon wings folded neatly on her back. Every movement screamed power and grace. Every lift of perfect eyebrow, every gesture was heavy with meaning, though Verin was fucked if he knew what anything meant. He stayed in the shadowed alcove of the staircase while Prince Shax trotted forward to greet his mother. She deigned to bend down and brush a kiss over his cheek before she greeted her next guest. All court demons, big and small. Verin couldn't name all of them, but he recognized at least two other rulers of Hell provinces. This wasn't a dinner party. This was a cabal, a place for a certain court faction to meet and scheme. Verin wasn't going anywhere near it. But if he thought he was escaping HER notice, he was so fucking wrong. She couldn't have seen him. Still, the princess turned and pointed to the alcove. "Who is this, my darling boy?" Give the little shit credit. Prince Shax squared his shoulders and looked right in her icy violet eyes. "That's my new minion, Mother. His name is Verin." "Your new minion? We discussed this. Any minions you are to have, I will choose for you." Prince Shax's chin went up just a hair. "I know, but please, Mum? Just this one?" The house minions were fussing over another high-ranking demon in the foyer, dividing Princess Ashtaroth's attention. She waved an elegant clawed hand. "Very well. You may keep that one. Be certain he understands how to behave in this household or he goes to the meat locker." Prince Shax shot a conspiratorial grin back at Verin, then turned to the next guest. "Uncle Asmo!" The greeting sounded sincerely glad instead of polite, but Verin shivered. Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, stood before her highness now, his beautiful, sensual movements hypnotic, his gorgeous body covered only in strategic strips of leather and gold. So much gold. Rings of ruby and gold, piercings, bangles at wrists and ankles, he chimed when he walked. Waves of carnal desire rolled off him, impossible to ignore. A couple of the foyer minions had succumbed and were fucking madly by the front door. Asmodeus opened his arms and Prince Shax leapt into them, squirming and laughing as his "Uncle Asmo" stroked him and kissed him. Royal families were weird. When the princess cleared her throat, frowning, he let the princeling go so he could come and kiss his hostess. Shax, for his part, scurried back to Verin, seized his hand, and hauled him back up the stairs. Halfway up, he held out two rings for Verin to see. Two of the rings from Prince Asmodeus's fingers. "Mother of demons," Verin breathed out. "You took the fucking things right off him." "I did." Prince Shax looped an arm through Verin's as they made their way back to his room. "You and I, Verin. We're going to have so much fun." Location: Aboard the Brimstone
Time: Shortly after Beside a Black Tarn Ness pulled in a deep breath over the steam, luxuriating in what was now a familiar, comforting scent. Coffee had taken some getting used to, but Ms. Ivana had begun adding that most celestial of foods, chocolate, to his. Better than heaven. Both chocolate and coffee should have been nearly impossible commodities in space since Earth produced both in such tiny, extraordinarily expensive amounts, but Ness had learned the secret. Most of the fabulous wealth on Elistrus came from coffee and chocolate farming and production. Shax swore that the Elistran products were better than Earth's. They were certainly less scarce. Lost in chocolate-laced caffeine euphoria, it took Ness several minutes to realize he was the only one in the kitchen. Yes, he'd slept a little late, but most of the crew lounged around over breakfast on days the ship was in transit. He shouldn't have been alone. No chatter on the ship's comm and no alarms blaring meant everything was fine. So where was everyone? He could have asked Ms. Ivana, of course. Not nearly as interesting as investigating for himself. Coffee mug in hand, he followed his instincts and his ears to the hold where he stopped on the landing, leaning against the rail in a half-conscious imitation of Shax in a pensive mood. The noise alone would have brought him there eventually to find everyone present and accounted for and doing…something. The larger people, Shax, Verin, Corny, Mac and even Julian stood on either side of the hold, making an unholy amount of noise. Heckle perched on a stack of crates, adding his higher voice to the cacophony. Zooming down the center of the hold floor were three…sweeper bots? Yes. That's what they were. Two of the smaller ones that normally did vent cleaning and one of the larger ones that cleaned rooms and corridors. Running in straight lines wasn't normal behavior for any of them. Neither was carrying passengers. Except for sips at his coffee, Ness stood still as stone, trying to parse the scene in front of him before he moved. The three bots zipped across a line of black electrical tape laid out near the far wall, the one carrying Max first, then the one carrying Nicodemus, and last by a whisker…a spiny prickle? The one with Leopold. Shax whooped and leaped into the air several times pumping his fist. Verin swore an inventively blue streak. Julian laughed and shook his head ruefully. Races? With sweeper bots? Leopold, peeping, pushed his bot over to Mac, who should have been the voice of sanity here. But Mac went down on one knee, made some adjustments to the underside of the bot, and set it back down for Leopold to climb aboard. Remounted, Leopold rode to join Max and Nic at a line of red electrical tape at the opposite end of the hold, presumably the starting line. Ness took one more sip of coffee and spoke into the relative silence. "I can't be certain, but I don't think you're using those according to factory specifications." "Good morning, cupcake!" Shax called up and blew a kiss. That was encouraging, at least. Better than the moping about he'd been doing so much of. "The boys are just blowing off a bit of steam." "And Shaxy's cheating," Verin growled. "Don't know how yet, but he has to be." "By betting against our son, it seems." Ness cringed the moment he said it since Shax's brilliant smile slipped. "Gotta be fair here. This was Leo's idea." Mac held up a hand. "I know. It's the betting thing. But it's just between family, Ness. Nobody's putting up any serious money." Heckle had gone still, chewing at his bottom lip. Shax was rubbing at his chest where an archangel's sword had once pierced him. Ness was sure he didn't even realize he did that when anxious. Everyone was staring at him. They thought he was angry. Did he really get angry that often these days? Was his anger so often extreme? The backs of Ness's eyes stung to think his crewmates might find him frightening sometimes. In his softest voice, he addressed Heckle. "Who's been winning?" "Um." Heckle stumbled and hiccoughed before he found his voice. "Nic won the first race, but Max took the next two. They're driving by covering and uncovering the bots' eye things…" "Optic sensors," Mac supplied. "Those. And Max's good at it." Ness sipped at his coffee as he descended the stairs, settling his wings to his back. He took another glance around the room, took in the bot jockeys watching him with various unreadable expressions. He had to do something here. "Twenty on Leopold to win." Leopold gave a happy chirp and the room regained its joyful noise. Place: From the desk of Captain Shax Goldner, Demon Prince of Thieves
Time: Now-ish Dear Earth-bound Readers, My chronicler and biographer has recently returned from some business venture or other and has been irresponsible enough to neglect having a story about me ready beforehand. Shameful behavior. My apologies, since someone needs to be the adult here. Please don't misunderstand me. I do appreciate Angel's efforts to recreate my adventures (and those of my crew as well, I suppose.) My heroic stands, such as the one against the Archidiot Michael, and my astounding victories (see the triumph over the Polyphemus) have been recounted fairly well. A bit more heroism and a bit less emphasis on the frantic parts would be preferable, but all in all, not too shabby. I do want to clear something up, though. In moments of stress, I do not squeak, scream, whimper, or faint, e.g. in regard to frogs especially, and I very much resent the implication. So please write to Angel and ask her to portray me in a more heroic, brilliant light with perhaps more emphasis on my impeccable sartorial choices and superior leadership skills. Thank you, dear readers, Kisses, Captain Shax Location: Habitat Atop Lunette the Space Shark
Time: Shortly before the beginning of Beside a Black Tarn Benny squinted at the pink being on his viewscreen. "Does your Papa Shax know you're using comm without, you know, adult supervision?" The spiny head bobbed up and down, vanishing and reappearing several times before the little guy managed to get something in place to use as a booster on the pilot's chair. "No, he does not know. I could ask him things instead. But, independence." "Hope I don't catch shit for this, short stuff," Benny muttered. The Brimstone had caught up to Lunette during the ship's night cycle. Since it was a planned meeting, Lunette the space shark was content to circle the Brimstone until captain and crew woke up. Benny was awake. He was usually awake. Self-preservation had beaten the habit of sleeping more than twenty minutes at a time out of him. The hedgehog managed to look offended, and that wasn't an everyday kind of thing. "My side jobs are mine. He is aware I have them. My private income." "Okay." Benny drew the word out as his mind raced through probable outcomes. As long as the little demon spawn was telling the truth, everything would be fine. If he was lying… Well, Shaxy needed him. They had a good business relationship. "So you've got something of your own you want me to, ah, appraise for you. Something your papa can't, maybe?" Leopold vanished again and there was a lot of peeping and grunting. Finally, the pink spines reappeared and Leopold wrestled a black box up onto the console. His cute little paws struggled with the latch for a few seconds. Easy to dismiss Leopold as cute, to underestimate him. Benny knew better than to judge the intelligence or threat-level of any being on appearance. Box open, Leopold turned it toward the screen. Benny stared for a good thirty seconds. "Fuck me sideways with an engine turbine," he whispered. "It's been years since I saw one of those." Inside the box on padded satin sat a black orb, so dark it tried to drink the light around it. While the thing did a good impression of a black hole, it wasn't one, of course. Lunette would never have circled so close to one. Instead of swallowing light and matter, it absorbed something else. Truth. "You even know what you have there, Son of Shax?" The pink head bobbed up and down. "I have done research. An Obfuscational Orb. At least that's its name." "Okay. Close the box, kiddo. Um. Do you know what it does?" Somehow hedgehog shoulders managed a shrug. Uncanny. That was the word for things like Leopold. Sure, Benny felt a little bad about it, but the bizarre giant hedgie made him uncomfortable. He shouldn't have existed. "Great. A little background on the OO. From what I know, there's only five of the things. There were six but one got smashed in the wreck of the Polyphemus. Supposedly." Again, Leopold nodded, pointing to the box. "Yeah. Was afraid of that. You've got the one from the Polyphemus." Benny sighed. "Great. Just fucking great. Anyway, what it does is make it impossible for everyone around you to know if you're lying. You can tell the biggest juiciest lies ever and people think it's, you know, gospel and stuff. It's some neuro-interference transmitter. No one knows how it works, since the guy who invented them's dead. Really, really dead. Don't ask." Leopold closed the box slowly and fastened the latch. "You want me to give you a price on it? Can't do it. Only way to sell it is to a hungry buyer, some schmuck willing to toss down a pile. Finding a buyer and negotiating exposes you. Exposes me. That one's hot. So hot you could power a freighter with it. The owners are still alive and liable to ping to it if you try to sell, right? You hold onto it for a few decades until it's not so hot. Better yet, get rid of the scary fucking thing." Leopold let out a sad peep and reached to cut the connection. "Hey. Leo. You came to me for advice? You don't gotta listen. None of my business. But I've got one more important bit for you. Don't hide things from your papa. It'll just come around to bite your ass." The little guy signed off and Benny stared at the screen, still for a long moment while he processed. When he had sifted through his brain to be certain there wasn't anything immediately dangerous about the information, he filed it with all of the other items his mind held onto for possible future need. He shook himself, chomped a corner off a protein bar, and went back to processing the interstellar datastream. Location: Elistrus, the city of Helike, one of the swankier sections thereof
Time: Shortly after Beside a Black Tarn Heckle tugged at the fancy new vest. Again. It fit perfectly, but the heavy brocade was stiff, silver on dove gray velvet, and he couldn't help the feeling that he should take it off before he had a chance to ruin it. "Captain, this party…" "Hmm?" Captain Shax inclined his head toward Heckle, though he kept his eyes on the arriving guests. He looked like he belonged, elegant and regal in his royal blue topcoat and shining black boots. He strode confidently toward the front door of the estate while Heckle trotted hesitantly in his shadow. "Why me, Captain?" Now Shax stopped, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. "Why my dear Heckle, because you're absolutely adorable and without a doubt the most appropriate companion for this evening." "But Ness—" "Is gloriously beautiful." Shax tapped his gold-handled walking stick on the pavers and resumed walking. "Humans often find him intimidating." "Then Corny—" "Also lovely, but does not necessarily enjoy a more rarified environment." Heckle took the captain's offered hand and trotted beside him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Finally, he asked softly, "So, I'm a distraction, Captain?" Shax pulled him closer as they passed a group of young men in excessively wide kilts, apparently all the rage that season. "I do like your company, you know." The evasion was answer enough. Heckle bounced a step or two before he caught himself. "I'm helping on a job?" Shax sniffed, his expression exceptionally haughty. "I don't know what you're on about. We're here to enjoy the food, the wine, and the company. And don't you dare tell Mac." "Of course not, high— Captain." Heckle tried to imitate the serious, snooty expression and thought his face might break. "What should I do?" "Stay with me for the first promenade around the room. We'll let ourselves be seen, chat a bit, gauge the temperature of the soiree. After that, I'll set you loose and you just go and enjoy yourself." "That's it?" Heckle couldn't help the disappointment in his tone. "Believe me, my dear, it will be an enormous help to me if I read this crowd correctly." Heckle nodded, though he didn't quite understand. He had thought there would be a more elaborate scheme, somehow. The stories Verin and Captain Shax told…well, there were always schemes. Weren't there? Though he had to admit that the captain was more than right to keep Heckle with him when they first arrived. Heckle found himself overwhelmed, befuddled by the dazzling displays of decadence everywhere he looked. Captain Shax was in his element, chatting here, nodding regally there, sampling this, tasting that. He made sure Heckle got some food in him, pointing out the best bits and letting him know in soft murmurs what bits weren't worth the effort. "There." Shax pointed out a tiered silver tray piled high with sweets. "Those are Turin Dots. I think you'll like them." The tray was too high for Heckle so Shax retrieved two for him on a fussy bit of paper lace. Heckle bit into one and closed his eyes on a little moan. Chocolate, caramel and an amazing sweet cream he couldn't quite identify nearly shoved him into food orgasm. "Those are my favorites, too," a smooth alto said just behind him. "Though I could watch you eat them all day." Heckle turned, the second sweet held in his claws and found himself face to face with a blindingly white shirt. He tipped his head up and managed a little smile for the person peering down at him. Color appeared unable to touch this being, from the white cutaway and trousers to the short white hair and perfect, pale skin. Red eyes were the only hint of hue. Gaze fixed on Heckle, the person said, "Hello, Shax." "Hello, Arian." Captain Shax's smile might have been a little strained. "I wasn't expecting you." "Likewise, though we can keep this civil, I'm certain." "Quite." "Who is this enchanting person you've brought with you?" Arian put a white gloved finger under Heckle's chin. "This is Heckle, my ship's quartermaster. Heckle, this is Arian Brun. Make sure to count your fingers after shaking hands." Arian laughed, a low, purring sound. "Hazards of the profession. May I steal him, Captain Shax? For one dance, I promise." "I know you don't mean literally, but yes. You may borrow him for one dance. I need Heckle circulating." Arian extended a leg in a courtly bow, which Shax returned graciously. "As much as I would like to keep him, my word on it. One dance." Heckle felt as if he'd been bartered for, but he was more curious than nervous. Captain Shax wouldn't abandon him. He knew that by now. If this intriguing colleague of his wanted a dance, he could oblige. The orchestra had just struck up a minuet, so he really could. Ness had started to teach him partnered dances and they'd just reached Earth eighteenth century ones. "Lady Arian?" he began, his scarlet fingers stark against the white-gloved ones gripping his hand. "Oh, little one, none of that. Just Arian. You may call me Mx. Arian, if you must have an honorific." Heckle nodded. "Sorry. Mx. Arian, how do you know Captain Shax?" Zhe's pale lips tipped up in a thin smile. "Let's just say we're in the same line of work. Though I bow to Shax's additional years of experience. I love your hooves, by the way. The way they shine." Heckle's face heated at the compliment, but he managed a smile and a polite thank you. He draped his tail over his arm so it wouldn't twitch around and smack into people, and took his place beside Arian. The couple across from them in dance pattern smiled politely, but didn't seem entirely comfortable with them. That was fine. It was a Bath Minuet, so everyone would be changing places soon, anyway. "Smile. Be charming. You are an absolute delight," Arian purred as the dancers began to move. He did as she asked, a little stiffly at first, but with greater ease as he skipped forward and back, turned and spun as the pattern required, taking one hand and then another and another. It truly was fun and all the humans smiled at him, watching his hooves, sometimes giving him little pets as he went by. A little disconcerting to be the center of attention, but it was all so polite and controlled. With specific expectations, he could deal with strangers. At the end of the dance, Arian returned Heckle to his captain as promised, placing his hand in the crook of Shax's elbow with a bow. "Thank you for indulging me," Arian said. "Both of you." Shax chuckled and patted Heckle's hand. "You're welcome, I think. Did you leave me the emeralds, at least?" Zhe made a dismissive gesture. "You know I've no use for colored stones. It was a productive turn about the floor, though." "Oh, yes." Shax nodded, a definite gleam in his eyes. "It most certainly was. Heckle, my dear, you were perfect." They didn't stay too late, which was fine with Heckle. He wanted to get home to Mac at a decent hour. But he did dance with several people and Captain Shax, as well, who was an excellent dancer. Not that Heckle was surprised. At the end of the evening, Captain Shax hummed and sang all the way back to the Brimstone. He wasn't much of a judge of these things, but Heckle deduced that it must have been a top-notch sort of party. |
About The Brimstone Journals
Extra treats for our Brimstone readers, Brimstone Journals will post every Tuesday. Short scenes from characters' lives before, after or during the stories. About the Author
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