August

July 11

That day, the contract arrived for Ghali. There was the thick manuscript of the marriage papers, along with a note, folded small and written in Ghali's own hand.
I am safe, it said. Azim treats me well.

Henrik sat in his study and read over the papers with Anthony and Mahir.
"So what's the name?" Anthony asked, his expression and voice tense, as they had been for days now.
Henrik scanned down the paper and read aloud: Sheikh Azim al-Mansour al-Khalid al-Aera.
Anthony slammed his hand down on the table.
"Fucking watermongers! I should have known." Anthony stood, scraping his chair backwards across the floor and fluttering a few papers on the desk. "I knew it was them. They're the ones, Henrik - they're the ones responsible for that attack on the laboratory. I knew it. They were testing our boundaries. They knew what they wanted." Anthony stalked over to the bookcase, then back. "They planned this."
Henrik looked very seriously up at his friend.
"What's done is done. We must begin looking forward."
Anthony put both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward, menacing Henrik.
"'What's done is done'? That's it? That's all you have to say? About Ghali??"
Henrik exchanged an uneasy glance with Mahir, who was reaching out to calm his husband.
"I'm only speaking of facts, Anthony. The attack, taking Ghali - we can't change those things. We can only act from here." Henrik frowned. "We have to see the larger picture - find out what's happening on a grander scale."
Anthony scoffed.
"You know damn well what's happening. It's the same thing that's always happening around here. There's an uprising on the way."
Henrik shook his head.
"No. Not necessarily. Not here. We can stop that."
Anthony rolled his eyes.
"Can we? There's more than a little anger out there right now. People are hungry for what we have, and they don't understand why we haven't given it to them. We're not their people; we don't belong here. That's what they're saying, and in a way, they're right. We haven't given them carriers, and we can't, and so they've decided that they're just going to come and take them. Letting Ghali change was the last straw." Anthony paused, and for a moment, he looked regretful. Then his voice was steely again. "This is the desert, Henrik."
Mahir felt compelled to interject at this point.
"The desert is not your only enemy, Tony. Attacks come from all sides." he looked at Henrik. "What has the Union told you about the other Phantom?"
Henrik lifted his hands wide.
"Same thing they always tell us. Nothing."
"They're sure it's not your formula?"
"They wouldn't have called if it was."
Mahir furrowed his brow, thought about this.
"We're weakening." he said, suddenly, then relapsed into silence. Anthony spoke again.
"It's time to get out, Henrik. Time to call it a day."
Henrik shook his head.
"No. This is Wafra. This is home. We remain."
Anthony looked at him sadly.
"Bombings and kidnappings are a hell of a way to live, man. Our island is eroding. We can't make it out here much longer."
Silence reigned for a moment, and then Henrik reached out and pushed the marriage contract across the desk towards Anthony and Mahir.
"Perhaps," he said, pensively, "you should read it."
Mahir was the first to understand.
"No. Whatever he wants, don't give it to him. That man is dangerous."
Henrik lifted an eyebrow.
"More dangerous as an enemy than a friend."
Mahir shook his head again.
"No. Talk about a security leak. And it won't be whatever number they put on that paper, you know. It'll be one carrier, then two, then three, then their cousins need one, then their uncles...it'll never stop. No. Sign that, and we might as well burn Wafra down ourselves. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Henrik?"
"How many," Anthony asked, leaning in past Mahir, "Did they ask for?"
Henrik paused, glanced between the two men, and answered Anthony.
"Seventeen."
"In how long?"
"A year."
"Who provides the bodies?"
"They will."
"And we get?"
Henrik twirled a finger in a circle on the top of the document.
"Anything we want, really. Water. Guns. Materials. Access to their library, their samples. Manpower, if we needed it." Henrik paused. "And, most importantly, I think, their loyalty."
Mahir shook his head again, preparing to protest, but Anthony put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from speaking.
"Their loyalty?" he inquired.
Henrik nodded.
"Yes. We'd be entitled, it seems, to a rather high degree of...protection."
Mahir burst forward.
"Henrik, no! This is bad! This is a bad idea! Trust me - these aren't people you want to get mixed up with! This is not a world you want to be a part of!"
Anthony quieted him again.
"And they just want the carriers?"
Henrik shook his head.
"Access to Wafra, as guests. Collaboration in our research. A few more marriages, down the line, to strengthen ties." he pushed the papers a little closer to Anthony. "Al-Aera is interested, it appears, in legitimizing his empire. He thinks Wafra can help."
"Anthony, Henrik, please listen to me," Mahir pleaded with them. "I don't think we can trust Al-Aera. They kidnapped Ghali, and if Anthony is right, they're responsible for the attack on us earlier. They haven't done anything to prove to us that they're trustworthy, or serious about this alliance at all. They haven't done anything to show their supposed loyalty."
Henrik considered this for a moment, and his eyes deepened as he stared at the document.
"Well," he said, eventually, "We could certainly ask them to do so."

~:~

Time passed slowly in government care. Daily, little changed. Ren had requested some books brought to the suite so that he could continue the younger ones' schooling, and had been obliged. That occupied the day now; with no chores to be done, there was little else. Adrian had improved in condition, and was now feeling his old energy return. This pleased Sean, although having no contact with his own parents did not.
Will Mackenzie had asked him about that.
"Didn't want to leave." Sean had said, "When I asked 'em. They didn't want to go." he shrugged, and looked off towards the bedroom door. "I couldn't make 'em."

They had had no word on Woodacre since they'd come here, but Will hoped they were still alright. There was a media screen in their suites, but it had no outside contact, and so only played programs that they had to request from the guards and representatives.

Will continued working in the lab, although things seemed to be regressing. A mouse had been turned, successfully, but it had taken twice as long as it usually did, and that was worrisome. He wondered if the formula was incorrect - if his memory had been faulty. Or if the entity was weakening.

His lab had shrunk again, too - only two lab technicians remained now, and they seemed skeptical of him at all times. He had had no word on what happened to the last success story, the young cadet. He wished he had some way of knowing what was going on outside of his little white world of the lab interior - was the cadet OK? Was Woodacre OK? Would Dothan be OK? He hadn't even been able to see the news lately. He felt as if he and his family were trapped on an island, with no means of rescue, the world passing them by. What was happening? Who was the other offer on the table? What was going on out there?

~:~