November

November 19: Saturday

Across the nation, people were celebrating the return of Havar, the kidnapped carrier, and although internally, there would be questions to answer about why Yavisk had gone against Union orders and Cubrovic had helped him, for now, the men involved were treated as heroes. Yavisk, in particular, was up for a medal and a commendation.

~:~

Miljan's jeep had been the first group to leave the field. Disinclined to spend the wee hours of the morning watching Anton play with his toy, he packed his jeep and took seven men with him to drop back at base. The jeep carrying Inderson's body followed close behind them, and after a few brief, informative meetings, a shower and change, Miljan was released and given a week off for his hard work.
He opted to spend the weekend at Anton's home in the mountains, where his friend would no doubt be busy for the next few days sating himself inside his returned mate, and Miljan could get some work done in the library, in quiet. He called his two cousins, one on base, and one just coming in from field work, to see if they wanted to go. They agreed, and Miljan worked in a short nap before they left, a little after the body had been hung up at dawn.

~:~

On the way up, they spotted a trading post/corner store that none of them remembered being there before. Miljan pulled the jeep off, parked it in front, and they went in to check it out. There was nothing of particular interest there; the owner, an elderly man with a mountain accent, told them he'd only opened a week ago, and had very few customers as yet; mostly just officers who lived nearby and a few passing travelers. A kid who looked about 16 was just receiving change as they entered, and upon seeing them, he quickly got his things and toddled away from the counter. The cousins chatted with the store owner for a while, answering questions and amusing themselves with various things for sale, while Miljan begged off and went to find a bathroom.

There was a basic-plumbing shack, little more than a glorified outhouse, that served the purpose. It was situated to the left of the shop's main building, and the heavy wooden door creaked as Miljan entered. The smell assaulted his senses, but of more interest to him was the kid who stood at one of the urinals. Hearing the door, he glanced over his shoulder anxiously. Miljan entered, took up a spot a few places down, and watched the kid from the corner of his eye as he urinated. The kid was clearly having trouble, and Miljan figured that his presence was only making him more nervous. Something seemed odd about his behavior, off just a little bit. Miljan took his time, assessing the kid as he finished up. He was average height, about half a foot shorter than Miljan, a healthy build for his age, and was in possession of well-cared for light brown skin, and curly black hair that looked a little too long for Academy. That was odd. Academy was strict, usually, about that sort of thing, and attendance to Academy was compulsory for children. He glanced over his clothes. Nice, but not too nice; his father was probably an officer. The kid had obviously been raised well. The store owner had mentioned locals who came here, and he knew some officers had homes not far from the road. His eyes drifted down to check the kid's shoes, and when he looked back up, the kid was staring at him fearfully. There were two lines of dark brown freckles crossing his nose. Miljan shook himself and zipped up, then walked calmly past the kid.


Tiger breathed a sigh of immense relief. That guy had made him nervous from the minute he'd seen him in the store, and now it was clear why. Fucking perverts. He tried to pee again, but the nervousness had made his balls hurt even more. He touched them gently with one finger, and pain jumped through his abdomen. Yup, still hurt. His father had told him they were retracting, and would continue to until they were gone. Tiger wondered over that word: retracting. He wondered what he would look like when it was all done. His dad had told him not to tell anybody, but he was sure someone would notice, sure it would, at some point, become obvious. He waited to see if peeing would get better, but it didn't seem to be, and he needed to get back home before his father realized he was gone. He zipped himself up, shifted the bag of candy in his hand, and headed out the door.

Three men, the pervert among them, were standing outside waiting for him.

Tiger tried to bolt instinctively, even though he knew he was surrounded, and he almost made it past the first guy, who seemed to have honestly not been expecting it. They caught him around his waist, and he started screaming immediately. One clamped a hand over his mouth. He bit him, hit another with his elbow, and felt like he was really gaining on all of them when a balled up piece of cloth went in his mouth and a sack went over his head.

The store owner came out bearing his shotgun, just in time to see the last of Miljan's group piling into the jeep.
"Everything OK?" his cousin asked from the driver's seat.
The old man looked puzzled.
"Thought I heard some shouting out here."
In the back of the jeep, Tiger was screaming through his gag.
The cousin shrugged.
"I didn't hear anything. Maybe somebody's off in the woods or something."
The old man looked at him for a long, examining moment, then nodded.
"Suppose it may have been."
"Well, we'd better be on our way. Thanks for your hospitality, sir."
In the backseat, Tiger was crying. They let him up when they got some distance down the road, and he coughed and heaved for a minute, then promptly opened the nearest door of the jeep and tried to throw himself out. Miljan swore, glared at his cousin, pulled the kid back, and used a pile of rope from the back to restrain him. Tiger's face was wet with tears, but he was obviously trying to pull it together.
"What do you want with me??"
"Are you a carrier?" Miljan demanded.
"What?"
"Tell me, now, and don't lie to me, because I'll check."
Tiger looked terrified.
"I'm not a carrier! I'm not! You've got the wrong guy! Let me go!"
He promptly began wriggling to try to get away from where Miljan's cousin was holding him. Miljan rolled his eyes.
"What is your name?"
the kid was too preoccupied with panicking to answer. Miljan slapped him.
"What can we call you, kid?"
The boy stopped struggling, looked with wonder and concern at Miljan.
"Tiger. My name is Tiger."
Miljan inclined his head.
"Well, Tiger, my name is Miljan. And I'm afraid that bit about you not being a carrier just doesn't appear to ring true. We're going to have to check."
Tiger began fighting again immediately, but Miljan just unbuttoned and unzipped him, took a quick glance down, and let him go, looking perturbed. He muttered something to his cousin in their tongue and let the band of the kid's boxers go. Tiger groaned when the fabric struck his sensitive parts and Miljan snapped his gaze back up to him, saying something else that Tiger couldn't understand. Miljan focused his attention on him again, only this time his hands were moving across Tiger's skin.
"Are you a carrier? I don't want to ask you again."
Tiger shivered in fear.
"I'm not."
Miljan squeezed his balls lightly and Tiger squealed in agony. Miljan's cousin laughed.
"They haven't dropped, then, yet, I assume?"
Tiger flushed. He wondered how long it would take for his dad to be able to find him. How long would it be before he even realized he was gone? He'd gone to run errands all morning, wouldn't be back until afternoon. Tiger felt a powerful regret as he imagined his father coming home, calling out his name as he always did, only this time there was no one to answer...
"Please let me go. Please. My father is going to lose it if I'm gone, and he's an officer and you don't want that. I won't tell anyone who you are or what I saw, I swear I won't."
Miljan smiled indulgently.
"Are you a carrier, dear one?" One hand tightened around Tiger's crotch, just a little. Even a feather touch was painful for a carrier in the middle of a change, though, and the kid yelped and tried to move away. Miljan's hand got tighter. "Just answer the question." the strain was showing in Tiger's face. "Answer me and all this can stop. We can take you home, call your father and let him know that you're OK, talk about what's going on." Tiger looked helplessly up at Miljan. "Or you can make me rip these off. It's your choice, Tiger."
Tiger swallowed.
"I'll talk. I'll talk! I'll talk." his dad was going to be pissed, he just knew it. But what else could he do, if they knew anyway; how did they know? He told his dad it would start to show.
"My - I'm just retracting, that's all, it doesn't mean I'm a carrier, I just have some problems, but my dad and I haven't been to a doctor yet so we don't know anything for sure."
Miljan released him.
"Very good. I applaud your honesty." Miljan sat back in his seat.
"You are your father's only son?" Tiger nodded, unsure why this was relevant. "Then I understand his desire to protect you. Is this why you haven't been to school in some time?"
Tiger's eyes got wide.
"Have you been watching me?!"
Miljan laughed.
"Only for about fifteen minutes now. Has your father been telling your school that you are sick?"
Tiger nodded. "There was a virus going around. How did you know I missed school?"
Miljan reached out to rub one of the curls developing around Tiger's ear. Tiger inhaled sharply when his hand approached.
"Your hair has not been cut."
Tiger digested this, looking uneasily at the man across from him.
"How did you know that I was...weird?"
Miljan blinked for a moment.
"You limped when you walked. This was my first clue. Did you walk all the way to the store?"
Tiger shrugged.
"And it was difficult, wasn't it?"
he shrugged again.
"You took something for it this morning. The painkillers were wearing off. How far is home from the store?"
Tiger glanced to the side.
"Twenty minutes or so."
Miljan made a motion of dismissal with his hand.
"You wouldn't have made it. Did your father tell you not to leave the house?"
Tiger flushed.
"Yes."
"And you disobeyed him."
The flush deepened.
"I was only going to the store."
Miljan fixed him with a severe, but amused gaze.
"And was your father right, Tiger?"
Tiger frowned, beginning to wonder if this was all some elaborate trick on the part of his dad to keep him in line. He discarded the idea immediately; his father would never put him in harm's way, even for a moment.
"Disobedience is a very trying trait in a carrier." Miljan stated simply, giving Tiger an affixing look that made him feel embarrassed all over again.
"'m not a carrier." Miljan raised one eyebrow. His cousin said something to him and he laughed.
"What language is that?"
"Serbian. You'll learn it over time."
Tiger wondered why the hell he would need to learn Serbian when the awful truth suddenly came over him and he began fighting all over again.
"Let me go! Let me go! I'm not a carrier! Let me go!"
"Tiger. Tiger. Tiger!" Miljan struck him again, harder this time. He didn't care; he kept wriggling and kicking, working his way towards the window; if he could just get it open and get one good shout out...Miljan hit him again, with meaning, in the back of his head. He saw little dancing stars. Miljan laid his full weight across him, snarling.
"You stop when I tell you to stop. You'll only exhaust yourself, or get hurt. Now calm down. Nobody's going to hurt you. Just relax, and we can all get through this."
Tiger looked in his eyes for a moment, then spent another few minutes wrestling with Miljan's cousin on the floor of the car and Miljan rolled his eyes, locked the doors, and let them wear themselves out. Eventually, Tiger lay defeated across the ground, his chest heaving.
"Where are you taking me?"
"How old are you?"
Tiger shook his head.
"I asked first."
Miljan laughed.
"To my brother's home, in the mountains."
"Who's your brother?"
"Tut tut. My turn. How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Seventeen and what?"
"Seventeen and fuck you."
Miljan quietly took a drink from his flask, then hit Tiger across the face with it and returned it to his pocket.
"I bet you're getting tired of getting beat up."
Tiger set his jaw.
"I'm fine, actually."
Miljan nodded.
"I'm sure you are. But it's a pity to harm that pretty face. Seventeen and what?"
"Seventeen and five months."
Miljan nodded.
"Old enough, then."
Tiger felt fear knot in his stomach.
"I meant fifteen."
"Fifteen is still legal, you know."
"Twelve."
Miljan laughed.
"Oh, Tiger. Just relax. Soon, we will be at Anton's home, and then we will call your father and let him know that you are fine. Everything will be OK, you'll see. Just relax."

~:~

In the afternoon, they went out to find a pay phone so that Miljan could make his call.
"Tiger?!" through the phone, his father sounded panicked. Tiger, in tight restraints and held by the recently-broken-nosed Bos.
"No, this is not Tiger, although he is here with us."
The man's voice changed immediately.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Miljan Cubrovic, and I am in possession of your carrier son."
Tiger was fighting to get to the phone. On the other end of the line, there was silence as Sergeant Vincent duCourt began to cry. His voice was strong, however, when he answered the statement.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Miljan sighed.
"Sergeant. Tiger's already been examined by my private physician. He is estimated to be about a week and a half along in his development; things are progressing slowly, but that's not uncommon. The physician is here; if you like, I can have Tiger stripped now, and he and I can describe his development to you, so you'll know it's your son."
"You keep your fucking hands off him, you sick bastard."
Miljan held the phone back from his ear. Tiger, having bitten his way free of Bos' hand, was screaming for his father.
"Put my son on the phone!"
Miljan turned away from the phone.
"Shut him up, please."
Bos moved one hand around Tiger's throat, choking off the last shout.
"Don't you touch him! Don't you fucking touch him!" duCourt was in a rage.
"Sergeant duCourt, please, let's do this civilly. Perhaps, if all goes well, there may even be a gain in it for you...perhaps someone to replace Tiger's pretty mother? No man should live in a house alone."
duCourt didn't even answer.
"Please put Tiger on the phone." Miljan shrugged and handed it over.
"Dad? I think they know about me."
"Tiger! Tiger, I'm sorry, son, I'm so sorry. Are you - are you OK? What do you see around you?"
"I'm fine; there's three men, they speak Serbian, and they took me twenty minutes up the mountain, then we went - " Tiger yelped and went down as Miljan flicked his crotch.
"Tiger says he's fine and will talk to you soon."
"I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!"
"I also enjoyed speaking with you, Sergeant duCourt. And don't worry - your son is in good hands. He'll see you in a few weeks." Miljan ended cheerfully, hanging up the phone. He scowled at Tiger, who was still busy cradling himself.
"Don't do that again. Are you OK?"
Tiger shook his head. Miljan picked him up carefully and set him down in the jeep.
"Back to the house, then. You need to get some rest."

~:~

Yavisk spent the morning luxuriously fucking Havar before getting up to answer phone calls and read the mail.
When Miljan came loudly in with his three cousins, he had just finished making breakfast. Miljan paused as he passed the kitchen, looked at him bemusedly.
"Don't you have a carrier now who can do that?"
"He's still handcuffed to the bed. Took the loss of his traitor lover hard. What is that?" he indicated the blanket-wrapped bundle in Miljan's arms. His friend laughed, pulled back one edge to reveal a curly head and a damp face. The kid looked miserable.
"Carrier. Found him down the road, wandering all alone. He's changing though, doesn't feel good. I'm going to put him to bed."
Anton nodded, turned back to his breakfast.
"Take him upstairs. Down gets too cold."
Miljan inclined his head and headed for the steps.