August

July 15:Saturday

Sheikh Al-Aera agreed to meet with them in exchange for two carriers; he would bring his own bodies, but Henrik had to bring the Phantom. Mahir demanded that Al-Aera also bring Ghali, so that they could see he was unharmed. Al-Aera responded that Ghali was still adjusting, and the doctors felt it was best if he was not disturbed. Besides, tradition dictated that Al-Aera had a month with his new bride before a visit to the family was required. Barely three weeks had passed.

At daybreak on the fifteenth, four stout desert vehicles arrived, spinning fat wheels over the sand. They slowed to a stop at the front of Wafra, and Al-Aera's guards unloaded first, then messengers and help-men, then Al-Aera's aides, his second-in-command, and, last, the sheikh himself. The last cars carried more guards, four of whom had been tasked with watching the two young men who Al-Aera had brought to be transformed.

Henrik met them all on the stairs of the main house. The sheikh spoke first, tilting his head under his keffiyah in the curious way that he had. The orange of the rising sun sheltered his face, and Henrik almost had to squint to make out his features.
"Mr. Angstrom." he said, in a rolling, measured voice, "A pleasure to meet you, at last."
Henrik met him eye-to-eye and extended a hand. Al-Aera took it in a firm grip. The hand that touched Henrik's was calloused, but fine-boned.

Abruptly, there was some shouting and a scuffle towards the end of the arriving party. Henrik and Al-Aera both looked over to see one of the two carriers-to-be trying to wrench free of his guards. Henrik spared a quick once-over for the two boys. They did not look like Al-Aera's people; they had probably been harvested from the near-feral child colonies that roamed the outskirts of the city. They were dirty, seemed confused, and looked more than a little frightened to be led inside the house.

Calmly, almost patiently, the guards were restraining the flailing one, until a shorter man carrying a rifle came up, barked orders at them, and backhanded the carrier across the face. The young man paused, as if in shock, then his face tightened and he spit at the man who had hit him.
The tension rose, the short man lunged for the carrier, Al-Aera shouted another order, and four guns cocked and trained on the aggressor. Wisely, the short man froze, and said something in a quiet voice to the sheikh. Al-Aera answered loudly, and another guard stepped forward, took the short man's rifle from him, and returned to his place.

Al-Aera turned back to Henrik and smiled evenly, then gestured to the front door of Wafra.
"Shall we?"

~:~

"And have we heard back from the Swede?" the president asked, moving briskly down the hallway towards the next meeting room. A slew of attending officials and aides trailed behind him. "Any new developments? Any solutions?"
His attending aide had to almost jog to keep up.
"No, sir. Nothing yet. They still have time on their deadline, though."
The president grunted.
"I want it sooner rather than later. This thing is volatile enough as it is. If Mackenzie's a leak, there may be more. Find out everything you can about Dothan. Who's in it, where they are, who might know the formula as well as Mackenzie. Has he said anything?"
The aide shrugged.
"Only that he was the Keeper of Woodacre. That Woodacre was the flagship. That the others didn't know the secrets."
The president took a sharp left turn and almost lost half his attendants to the south wall.
"Well, he may be protecting someone. Find out what his interests are. Interrogate him if you have to. But I want answers, and I want to know that this thing's contained, and I want to be sure that the people we're working with are really the guys in charge. Get me intel. Understood?"
The aide scribbled away and nodded frantically.
"Understood."

~:~

"So I take it," Al-Aera began, spooning sugar into his tea on the veranda, "That you don't trust me."
Henrik raised an eyebrow at the impertinence of the question. The man sitting across from him was at least ten years his junior; surprising, and difficult for Henrik to understand. The face looked unscarred - not a man of battle? Had Al-Aera been a street child who had gained favor amongst his people? Or had he come into his inheritance through descent, and maintained it somehow? Still, it was unusual to be a patriarch for one so young...
"Trust, as you know, is difficult to gain." Henrik responded simply. Al-Aera sipped his tea and set the cup gently back down.
"We are family now."
Henrik bristled visibly at that, but his diplomatic nature kept him from fighting Al-Aera on it.
"Of course. And family look out for each other, as I understand."
Al-Aera nodded eagerly - a bit too eagerly.
"Yes, of course."
Henrik blinked at him, then looked away.
"We've had some troubles here lately. I'm sure you've heard."
Distance returned to Al-Aera's eyes, and his voice was neutral.
"Trouble?"
Henrik nodded around his teacup, swallowed, and set it down.
"An attack. Terrible. On our laboratory."
Al-Aera's voice tightened.
"That is terrible, cousin. I hadn't heard."
Sensing the weakness, Henrik seized the reins.
"I'd like to ensure it doesn't happen again. It could be devastating to our work here. It could reduce our production by - well, it could reduce it completely."
Al-Aera understood immediately. He took another sip of his tea.
"I'm sure it was an isolated incident." he paused, as if unsure whether to say more. "I feel certain it won't happen again."
Henrik nodded.
"Excellent."
Al-Aera shifted his spoon slightly on its saucer. It looked almost like a nervous habit. Henrik wondered if Al-Aera was nervous. Perhaps the answer would show itself, if they let the silence continue. Moments passed. Abruptly, the sheikh asked,
"Is there anything else?"
Henrik smiled into his tea and set the cup down once more.
"As a matter of fact," he said, slowly, "I've been having some trouble with a group over in the Union. Just a minor squabble, but I wondered," Henrik asked, folding his hands together on the table, "If you might know of anything that could be done about it."

~:~

Nightmares woke Adrian from his late afternoon nap, and he jolted awake in a fright. Sean was across the room, watching the video screen passively. At Adrian's gasp and sudden movement, he looked up.
"You alright?"
Adrian put a hand to his chest and tried to get his breath back.
"Fine. Just...bad dreams."
Sean looked sympathetically at him, then got up from his chair and came over to sit on the bed. Adrian scooted closer to him, grateful for the human closeness. Adrian was shirtless under the sheets, and when Sean's hand brushed his bare skin, he shivered. Sean deepened his touch.
"Normand?" Adrian asked, suddenly.
"Out. With Ren and the rest. They requested dinner outdoors tonight." Sean slid his hand down to Adrian's hip, pushing the carrier onto his back.
"I told them we would be late joining them."
Adrian looked away, then blinked up at his husband.
"It's been a long time."
Sean nodded.
"I know."
Then they didn't speak much; there was the slam-rush of skin against skin and Adrian's arching under Sean's steady hand, and the coming together of the two of them, desperate and grasping, and Sean's anger and fear and the surging guilt of two lonely survivors, floating unattached through the world.

~:~