Walk forward, into the world
by Ainzfern
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 to 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 relocate 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, Sir 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 he 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 one more thing?" 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.
12
Chey Neeson frowned in slight confusion as he followed Iason Mink's young Furniture in the main room of the penthouse. He was also a little abashed, thinking that perhaps he might have misheard Iason's invitation. Carrying his project dossier in one hand, he had arrived at the penthouse of Eos Tower moment earlier only to be advised that his host was not currently in attendance.
"Please make yourself comfortable, Sir Neeson," Dane waved one hand towards the plush seating set around a low table in the middle of the room. "I'm certain that Master Iason is not far away. I will arrange some refreshments for you while you wait."
He nodded, sitting down in one of the armchairs that faced the rear of the penthouse and laying the dossier down on the low table in front of him. He watched as Dane swiftly crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony. He frowned then, suddenly noticing that there obviously was another resident here.
Out on the balcony, Dane was leaning in close and speaking to another youngster, this one dark-haired and smoking a cigarette as he perched almost casually up on the balcony wall.
Chey actually felt a genuine stab of disappointment run through him.
So, Iason Mink had a Pet, after all...
Shame. Chey sighed and clucked his tongue. He'd actually thought that Iason had been a better cut of man than that. Someone who had seen that the idea of keeping another human being for mere amusement wasn't actually necessary. Of course, naturally, he would not allow this discovery to affect his working relationship. It was just that...
Ah well. Chey sighed quietly, giving a kind of mental shrug. Perhaps he was just too provincial after all.
Through slightly narrowed eyes, he saw the dark boy shoot a look in his direction, before stubbing out his cigarette and nodding at Dane. He slipped off the wall and followed the young Furniture back into the house. As Dane headed into the kitchen, the dark haired boy approached him directly, standing a few feet away and looking interestedly at him.
"Hi," his unknown host said in a quiet, pleasant voice. "Chey Neeson, right?"
Chey suddenly took another look at him, feeling the beginnings of honest confusion rising in him. In one swift instant, his sharp eyes picked out all manner of things that just didn't seem to fit correctly with his understanding of a Pet's demeanor.
For a start, the boy was not a boy. He had to be at least twenty. And although he was attractive, remarkably so if Chey was to give an honest appraisal, he lacked the utter and mildly synthetic physical perfection of the Pets he had seen in Partia. And then there was his clothing, faded denim jeans and a rather well worn and shapeless black sweat shirt. Certainly not the usual standard revealing outfit of leather straps and Lycra handkerchiefs that seemed to be the primary dress for Pets.
Last, but by no means the least, Chey noted, was the attitude. This young man was standing straight and proud, his gaze direct and his smile, while friendly, was just guarded enough to indicate that an equally sharp assessment was probably being done from the opposite direction. There was no sign of the characteristic simpering or fawning that the Partia Pets displayed around their owners and other Elites.
Making a decision, Chey rose to his feet and extended one hand. "I am indeed Chey Neeson," he confirmed, nodding in approval at the firm grip the young man used to shake his hand. "And I believe that you, young man, are no Pet."
The young man grinned at him, his eyes lighting with amusement. "Iason was right about you," he said, chuckling. "You are smart. Most people would take a hell of a lot longer than you just did to figure that out. I'm Riki. It's nice to meet you."
"Well, it's nice to meet you too, Riki." Chey sat down as Riki motioned him back to his chair and took a seat on the sofa opposite. "And what is it that you do, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"What, you mean what do I do for work, or what do I do here?" He glanced up as Dane brought sold drinks over for them, murmuring his thanks to the Furniture and once more impressing Chey with his notable uniqueness.
"Both, perhaps," Chey picked up his drink and sipped it slowly.
"Well, I work for an associate of Iason's," Riki smiled at him. "And I live here."
"You live here?"
Riki appeared to be vastly amused by Chey's confusion. "Yes. I live here. With Iason. Read into that what you will."
Chuckling suddenly, Chey saluted him with his drink. "I don't actually think I'm the only smart fellow in this room, Riki," he declared firmly. "In fact, I have the feeling you'd be as much a match for me as your Iason has proven to be."
Riki's eyes widened slightly, obviously catching the reference to 'his' Iason.
"And speaking of our erstwhile Syndicate leader," Chey ignored the look. "Would you happen know where he is?"
"At this time of day? Heading back from Jupiter Tower, I imagine." Riki settled a little more comfortably into the chair. "Did he know you were coming?"
"Yes," Chey frowned slightly. "In fact he told me what time to arrive. Of course, I could have misheard him. I have to assume that I'm just a bit earlier than I should have been."
"No." Riki shook his head.
"I'm sorry?"
"No," Riki leaned forward slightly. "Don't ever assume anything when it comes to Iason. He doesn't make mistakes like this. If he told you to be here while he wasn't, then there's a reason."
Chey blinked, startled, yet seeing the truth of Riki's comment quite clearly. "I wonder why."
"Because," Iason's deep silken voice came from the doorway behind Chey, "I wanted you two to meet and draw your own conclusions about each other without me being here."
Looking as Riki's eyes brighten as Iason walked towards him and set down close to his side, Chey carefully hid a knowing grin.
So... the cold and aloof Iason Mink was not so cold after all. Continuing to observe them as Dane brought his master a cool drink of his own, Chey could clearly see that the relationship between these two disparate men was an affectionate one.
There was nothing overt in their behavior as such. But the look that they shared between them, just for moment, confirmed his suspicions.
There was love there.
He wondered absently if they knew that...
How it possibly came to be, Chey could not even begin to guess. He hoped that one day he might be allowed to know the story, although that was highly unlikely, he supposed.
For now however, there were other questions to answer. "Iason," he said once the greetings and pleasantries were over. "What in the world is all this about? Why was it so vital that we met, and what does this have to do with the nature of my colonization project?"
Peripherally, he saw Riki's head turn sharply to look at him.
Iason sat back, steepling his long and elegant fingers thoughtfully. "Chey, a short time ago Riki brought a particular problem, facing some specific residents in Midas and Ceres to my attention."
Riki gasped softly, staring hard at the Elite beside him.
"When you mentioned your colonization project to me at the trade ratification yesterday, it occurred to me that you both might just have the solution to each other's problem." Iason held out one hand, indicating the dossier on the table. "Is that your outline?"
Nodding, still slightly mystified, Chey picked it up. "Yes, it's all here. Projections, logistics, detailed plans of residences and services, even the initial wage levels."
Iason smiled approvingly. "Would you be so good as to hand it to Riki, please?"
"Of course," Chey leaned forward and passed the document to Riki, noticing the sudden intensity on that dark-eyed face.
"Iason?" Riki asked softly, peering up at the Elite's inscrutable face.
"Just read it, Riki," Iason urged him quietly. "Whatever you decide to do about it will be entirely up to you."
Nodding, Riki took a deep breath and opened the dossier.
Watching the scene unfold before him, Chey Neeson settled back and prepared to observe closely until everything made complete sense. He had no doubt that, whatever the outcome, there was definitely something profound happening right here in this penthouse in Eos Tower.
And, of course, if it led to an agreeable solution, then that was even more pleasing.
The things one learned, Chey mused to himself, amused and entranced by the revelations of the day.
The things one learned...
Reclining back on his vast satin covered bed, his upper body propped up against a mound of luxuriously soft pillows, Iason smiled tenderly as he looked the down the length of his naked body, to be treated with the delectably wicked sight of Riki; nestled quite happily between his long legs and gently bringing him inexorably closer climax with gentle touches of hands and mouth.
Although they had already made love this evening, it was not an uncommon occurrence for Iason, with his genetically enhanced physical resilience, to remain hungry beyond his first peak. Thus Riki, with characteristic adaptability, was happy to provide an encore – so to speak.
He closed his eyes, letting his head drop back as the sweet heat of his imminent orgasm began to build in his groin, the flesh of his thighs and lower belly beginning to tingle and tighten as the physical process of coming commenced in earnest. He felt Riki shifting a little, getting into a better position, that hot wet mouth increasing the suction slightly, and one hand beginning to stroke his solid shaft in a delightful counter rhythm. He reached down with one languid hand, threading his fingers through Riki's silky hair, not pulling or pushing at him at all, just stroking through the tousled strands carefully, touching, as he was touched.
When he felt the flat of Riki's tongue beginning to rub in firm motions just under his sensitized glans, Iason knew he was lost. He gave up any semblance of control at that point, pulling in a deep breath as the first wave hit, then releasing it with a slow satisfied sigh as his cock began to pulse in exquisite beats, spilling the essence of his release into the talented haven of Riki's warm mouth.
He lay still for a moment after, leveling his breathing and listening to the soft sounds of Riki's somewhat smug little chuckle. Opening his eyes once more, he smiled down at his self-satisfied little mongrel before smoothly lunging forward to grab him around the waist, hauling him up, laughing, to lie sprawled across his chest.
Lifting his head, his kissed Riki soundly for a moment, absently amazed, as he always was, to find that the taste of himself on Riki's soft lips was not at all disturbing. Quite the contrary, in fact.
"So," Riki panted at him after Iason finally released him for air. "I take it that was to your satisfaction?"
"Very much so." Iason smiled fondly at him. "You've become rather good at that, I must confess."
"High praise," Riki snorted with good humor, drawing gentle patterns on the skin of Iason's shoulder with the tip of a finger. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"
"Hmm." Iason smoothed his hands down the sleek warmth of Riki's back, cupping his firm little rump with gentle hands. "I believe so."
Riki rested his head on Iason's chest for a moment, before sighing softly. "I didn't say thank you," he murmured.
Frowning a little, Iason peered down slightly. "For what?"
"For setting up that whole business with Chey Neeson, today."
"Ah."
"Yeah." Riki's arms slipped around his body, squeezing gently. "You don't miss much, do you?"
"In regards to you?" Iason turned on his side, settling Riki comfortably in the crook of his arm. "I'd like to think never."
"Well, thank you."
"You're welcome," Iason rubbed Riki's flat stomach gently, smiling as the younger man muffled a yawn directly into the side of his chest. "Have you given any thought to how you might go about finding that number of people for him?"
"Yeah," Riki replied, rousing slightly so that he could prop himself up on one elbow, gazing down into Iason's sated face. "I ran a couple of ideas past Katze after dinner."
"So that's what you were doing."
"It was. I thought the best option was to hack in and look at the tax records compared to the employee numbers listed for all the businesses in the Lower Midas areas."
Iason frowned slightly. "You've hacked into the Syndicate revenue office?"
Riki grinned delightedly. "Yeah."
"I might just pretend I never heard that."
Chuckling, Riki continued, completely shameless to the end, Iason noticed. "We've got an encrypted program running already, so we should be able to have full lists down by early tomorrow morning. Then, it'll just be a matter of auditing the data. Wherever we find a disparity between the number of listed employees and the number of taxable incomes for a business, be it bar or whore-pit, or even factory, we can be pretty sure that we'll have found an ex-Pet."
Iason nodded, impressed by the simplicity of it. "I see. The ex-Pet's don't get paid, therefore..."
"Right," Riki winked at him. "Their 'employers' don't pay taxes for them. So if you've got eight people listed on the employee register, for say – a gaming house in Lower Midas, and only six numbers listed on the taxation records, then two of your employees are bound to be ex-Pets."
"Clever."
"I thought so."
Iason paused then, gazing at Riki with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face.
Noticing, Riki stilled and stared back. "What?" he asked, smiling bemusedly at him.
"Maturity suits you, Riki," Iason murmured knowing, even as he spoke the words, just how true they were. "You wear it well."
"Well a lot's happened over the last four years, Iason."
"Indeed it has."
"God, remember what I was like back then?" Riki stifled another yawn and settled back down against Iason's side.
"Young," Iason answered, reaching out to flick of the light by the bed.
"Oh yeah. Seems like a whole lifetime ago, now." He sighed again, his body growing slightly heavier as he relaxed.
"It was a lifetime ago, Riki," Iason murmured, cradling Riki's warm body close to him. "A different lifetime ago."
He felt Riki press a final soft kiss to his shoulder as his closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him at last.
Walk forward... – chapters 9-10 << >> Walk forward... – chapters 13-15