Katje

((This is an idea I\'ve been playing with for some time. It is tied to \"Starfire\" but at present, only loosely. I\'ve always loved the idea of neko-people. But I\'ve also been unwilling to go into the arena following the footsteps of all those who have gone before. In the end, I decided a more original approach to the neko might be in order.

For those interested, \'katje\' is dutch for kitten.))

Katje

The shelter is quiet, night time having settled onto the space port. For those disenfranchised and lost and simply destitute beings, this is a far cry from being down on the planet, eking out a living as best they can. At least up here (however they managed to get up here) there is always a chance of something new, something else.

But the price is higher as well.

Lights flood the dark shelter and men sit up, blinking into the sudden cacophony of shouts and thudding crackling electric prods. \"GET UP! GET UP! Clearing out! All men stand quietly and do nothing! Proceed to the center of the shelter! This is Space Center Security, proceed to the center of the shelter!\"

Of course, the proceeding to the center of the shelter is hard when each man is wakened by a shock in the leg, head, back, and the resultant chaos is full of screams and shouts of rage as the all male shelter turns into a brawl, those trying to comply fighting with those trying to escape, who in turn are fighting with the security.

It\'s an hour before order is restored, and if there are any deaths, it won\'t be in the intranet news reel, for bodies like those of the transients are often shuttled off with the garbage along with any other illegally murdered shapes. The main brunt of the group that is not injured or dead, are huddled in a glaring, frightened group in the center of the cleared shelter. Encircling them are men with impact rifles and sour looks.

The group is transported to a containment vessel with a shield door and then security officers go through, picking through the men for anyone useful.

It\'s as if they\'re cattle, really. They shudder, some still in their underwear, woken out of deep sleep, some with clothes on - more aware than others of the dangers of being up here on the space centers.

Captain Karl Pisson pauses before one small group of young men and points to a slender blonde. \"You.\"

The blonde\'s eyes open wide, blue and shocked. \"M-m-me?\" he gasps even as, from behind him, a far more slender, though taller, almost childlike boy steps out before him.

Pisson stares at the new boy. Reddish brown hair falls into a braid behind his back and he lets his gaze go back to the blonde. He\'d thought at first the blonde was female, with the long hair. He\'d meant to move him out of the group to somewhere safer, but here is an identical shape and form, if they seem different enough, they are obviously related. And they\'re both male. But too damn pretty for the containment. They\'ll get eaten alive. \"Yeah, you both.. come with me.\"

The blonde is shaking as the red head tucks a protective arm around his shoulders and with a acidic look at one gun toting guard, begins to guide the smaller boy away from the group.

~~

The pair of them stand in the NS Security Office Retaining and Query cell, refusing to sit, their long trench coats dusted with silica dust that peppered many of the station folk. Only the well to do seemed free of the constant reminder of the station\'s attempt at making things more like earth. Pisson rubs his hand in his hair with an agitated air and stares at them through the one way mirror.

\"I don\'t know, Karl. The one looks like a lamb for the slaughter, but from the looks of it, I don\'t know that I\'d want to let his buddy go on a public transport. I\'m guessing they\'re here because of that red headed kid.\"

Pisson nods at the large man next to him. \"But they\'d have a valid complaint against us if we\'d allowed them to be raped or killed or maimed, all things that could happen if I placed them back into the prison transport. Look at them. They\'re obviously capable. Even the blonde kid.\" He sighs. \"What am I going to do with them, Rod?\"

\"Names?\" the large man asks. \"Did you get them? The men say they\'re refusing to talk. We did get the blonde\'s first name. Jack. But that\'s a common enough name. He won\'t give no last name. The red head won\'t let him.\"

\"Let\'s separate them, see if we can bleed him of info that way.\"

~~

When the officers, three of them, enter the holding cell, Devon starts in surprise and then his eyes narrow.

\"Okay, we want you to come with us,\" one of the men says, pointing his finger at Jack.

Devon grins, feral and with teeth that are almost too white in a way. \"We go together or we don\'t go at all,\" he answers for his brother in a tone; grim, cold, and dangerous. The man talking to them, however, doesn\'t seem to hear the threat, well accustomed to hearing men posture and throw bravado as if it were free creds.

\"Doing this the hard way, huh?\" he grabs his electric prod and it turns on with a distant electrical hum. \"Look kid. I don\'t want trouble-\" he begins.

\"Then don\'t start it, asswipe,\" Devon\'s retort interrupts the security officer.

Trained to deal with this kind of issue swiftly, the three men don\'t waste time in pushing a call button. Instead they rush Devon, one reaching for Jack who cries out and leaps the width of the room in one smooth motion, lightly as a cat.

\"Shit!\" the man reaching for the blonde calls out in alarm. \"Humanoid! Shit! What the fuck are these - \"

He doesn\'t get to say any more. The other two men are already down and he is grabbed bodily by the slender red headed boy then heaved into the plate glass of the cell.

Devon doesn\'t wait to consider. He wrenches a chair bolted into the floor. Stepping over the fallen guard\'s body, he smashes the chair into the window, once, twice, three times. Titanium laced, it resists, but he keeps at it, making a dent in it. Four, five, six, seven.

Inside the viewing room, Possin reacts swiftly. \"Dammit, get all available men up here. No firearms, we can\'t afford to break treaty with whatever things these guys are!\" His eyes wide, he hopes it\'s something simple, like a pair of shifters.

But... this strong? His mind races over all known alien forms. There aren\'t that many, but he\'s woefully undereducated.

~~

The call goes to the Head of Space Security when they\'ve managed to shut down a portion of the inner building and after rallying enough men, cutting down oxygen to that particular place, enter with masks to subdue the creatures and find... them gone.

Just gone. No sign of their having left.

Pisson sighs under the tongue lashing and rubs his fingers across his eyes, shoving his glasses to his brow a moment after. \"Yessir. Nossir. Yessir, we did. Yessir. Nossir, I didn\'t realize that. Yessir. Yessir, I realize my job is on the line. Yessir... yessir... yes.\"

Rod gives him a sympathetic look as he hangs up. \"Brought the tape,\" he waves it in the air and then sets down, shoving the small disk into a reader and watching the holographic display of the room show up in miniature on the desk between them.

\"What in hell are these guys? Are they dangerous?\" Pisson stares and watches as the red headed boy leaps easily to the ceiling, an eight and a half foot jump straight into the air, and clings to a water pipe. Something flashes as it\'s drawn from his trailing braid.

\"General picking set. The kid can get in and out of anywhere he wants. We\'re looking into what they are, Karl.\"

\"Hell.\" Pisson stares at the image, watching as the grate is undone and cat like, the red head slides in, upside down, into the open duct, then is followed shortly after by the blonde, who, not as slim, still manages to get his body into a place most men would never have seen fit to enter. \"You think they\'re still in the duct system? It\'s been an hour and they\'re moving fast.\"

He turns it off, knowing all ready that they hadn\'t seen the entrance because it had simply been too small.

\"No, we did a scan and there\'s no life forms above that of some rats in the ducts, Karl,\" Rod answers sadly.

\"I have to call my wife.\"

~~

Two days later an expert in interspecies relations sees the disk on the planetside and places a conference call with the Space Station Commander, Head of Security, and Captain of Space Security. She smiles at them all from her holo and gives them a bow before taking her \"seat.\"

\"I\'ve looked over the disk, gentlemen,\" the older woman begins, \"and I have to say that while you\'ve obviously been very alarmed, you have no cause for concern. You have, however, had a first contact with a rare life form called a Katje.\"

\"Katje..\" Pisson murmurs. That name is familiar but not enough. One of the many either extinct or out of touch or rare.. well, she\'d said they were rare and this was first contact for the station.

\"Yes, Captain Pisson,\" the woman smiles. \"Katje. A form of species discovered fifty years ago by a Kalli Anjwer from the Swedish National. He was on a intergalaxy run when his ship was hit by an unknown object. According to his memoirs, with his power down, he floated for two days. Then suddenly and mysteriously, his ship returned to normal. Diagnostics later showed no damage, nor any explanation. However, at that point, he found two small creatures, much like cats on his ship. Kittens, actually. What they looked like as infants has no bearing on this case, as you\'re dealing with the adult form of the species. But this is why they are named as they are.

\"Commander Anjwer cared for them for the following twelve year return. During that time, he discovered a great deal about them. They were intelligent, to the point of being able to talk fluent swedish, french, japanese, english, and spanish by the age of five. Cat like characteristics were all but nonexistant by the age of twelve, and by that age he judged they were almost fully developed adults. He believes they begin puberty at the age of three or four as opposed to the human\'s six to eight. Few have been around infant Katje since Dr. Anjwer\'s interaction. So we\'ve got to go on his account. His belief was sexual maturity was around thirteen with adulthood at sixteen, as opposed to a human age of twenty three to twenty nine.

\"They are generally quick to mature, as I\'ve already stated. Also, they\'re very adaptable, highly territorial beings with faster than human resources, speed, and strength and are much less massive than humans or most other species. They\'ve a soft down like fur much like peach fuzz all over but that is only mentioned, for few accounts of them coming into close contact with humans are known. It is said that this is the only way to tell them, but one would have to know what one is looking at, of course. And their ears. The outer ring of the ear is canted and the ear itself is able to voluntarily move to capture sound. We do not know of ability to see in dark, claws, or any other cat like characteristics, though they seem very much like our earth side cat. These last are rumored but not proven and I do not think they are able. We do think they have a heightened sense of smell and probably more than capable vision when it comes to distances.

\"Hmm,,\" she sighs and picks up a paper. \"I\'ve never seen one in reality, though I dare say from the disk you sent me it is true they are also stronger than humans. You\'ve sent me the disk showing how the one older Katje broke your window. That in itself is fascinating for we\'d designed those windows to withstand pressures beyond any alien species.\"

Pisson makes a face. \"And these creatures are in our station.\" He looks around and sees the alarm on the other two men\'s faces.

The expert shakes her head. \"As I\'ve said before, you\'ve nothing to worry about. The most we know of the Katje is that there seems to be a cap on how many are allowed interaction with humans. They are transported as infants, though this infancy is very capable of caring for itself. We\'re assuming that they are six to nine months of age when dropped off, already knowing most language though incapable of speaking it. And while they talk to humans and they do interact, they aren\'t a danger.\" She smirks. \"Unless threatened.\"

Pisson\'s superior frowns. \"These critters are definitely threatened now. So what do we do?\"

She looks at him in surprise. \"Oh I think they\'re safe now. They\'ve escaped the holding cell and would no longer consider themselves in danger. I doubt you\'ll have any more difficulty.\"

Pisson though, isn\'t so sure.

~~

Devon stands, buttoning up his shirt, and stares down at the human male. The gluttonous creature, lays back on the bed, his head cocked to one side, neck broken. The Katje sighs and sits down heavily next to an unmoving foot, his braided hair falling over his shoulder and lingering on his bruised thigh. The bruises unseen under his leather pants.

Damn humans. Why do they have to get curious? It\'s not that he wanted to kill the man. But then, this means he can make more money than he\'d already planned. He leans over the legs of the body and the edge of the bed at the same time, reaching for the man\'s pants, pulling them up and fitting them onto his lap before rummaging through the pockets.

\"Mr. Juno?\" he looks at an identification tag. \"Hunh, working for the Evans Corp. building, eh?\" He looks at the dead man and pockets the ID card, then goes back to looking, finding very little of interest and more importantly, no creds. \"And you were gonna cheat me, Juno.\" He sighs and stands, throwing the empty wallet on the man\'s bare chest. There\'s no need to be wary of prints. His prints weren\'t like humans. They changed. Every few weeks, smudged and difficult to read anyway.

And who cares about another dead john? Devon looks away in disgust. Things aren\'t going the way he\'d hoped. But then...

When he reaches the entrance to the understation flight mechanism and slips in through a broken window, he\'s met with a mewling hello sound from the back room. Some of the controls were outdated and the humans had rebuilt them in the fore of the building, which left these parts of the area dead and abandoned. It helped that he and his brother could leap up to the second story ledge from the ground so they could enter in through the window, something humans would never be able to do. And if humans weren\'t able to do something, they did not see it as a possibility for others. The species was so blind to anything else but their own ways. It was an odd way to live in a universe teeming with other creatures, to think of self as the litmus by which all else was compared.

\'Hello Jakkin,\' he warbles back in the strange, bird like language of their home planet.

\'You were gone so long! I\'d worried. Are you okay?\' his brother instantly begins to tear off his clothes, wrinkling his nose. \'You smell like ... phaugh! You reek of fear!\'

Devon shoves his younger brother off and with a snarl, goes to the water pipe that they\'d rigged up to work as a shower. It was a water main so no one noticed the minute drops in water pressure now and again. Standing over a drain, he lets the water flow over his body and watches his brother poke at his clothing. \"A human tried to kill me.\" He sighs. \"I do not understand this need the human male has to kill those weaker than himself. This is the third in the past year.\" He rubs his body, his fingers making an oil that runs with the water and filters deep into his skin as he does so. The scent of his own sweet musk fills the place, a telltale sign to any who entered of whose place this was. That is, if it were a Katje coming through the door.

\'They are barbarians, Devkin. They... have no hearts. We knew this. Lie, steal, kill... they frighten me. They are animals.\'

Devon stops the water and steps out, plucking a clean towel from the ground beside. Running it over his skin, he sighs. \"You have only a half moon cycle to go before you can return home, Jakkin,\" he reassures his brother. \"Then it will be over. We will have fulfilled our duty.\"

Jack moans and curls up far away from the soiled clothing and wraps his long silver hair around himself. \'It just seems so long,\' he whimpers.

~~

Devon holds his brother that night as his litter mate tries to sleep. Jack has nightmares, worse than usual. But it could be the antigravity. That always brought back bad memories of their arrival, of being in the cold hold of the cargo ship, eating what they could find in the dark, sleeping huddled together.

They\'d had good luck though, being found by a man named Tyr\'Sur back on the planet side. Tyr\'Sur had seemed to accept them without the usual fear of the unknown that was the usual to be expected from humans. He\'d taken them in off the streets when they were only three, still with the kit fur on them, just speaking then. And Devon had, in his own way, come to idolize the man.

It hadn\'t helped in the end. Tyr\'Sur had to leave. He\'d had to go to Galdrium, to do mining for some huge Halidian enterprise. And while he\'d offered to take them with him, Jack had refused. Jack had been afraid. Jack... poor little Jack hadn\'t wanted to go into space again so soon.

And now, fourteen and a half, more than old enough to undertake just about anything, Devon had demanded that they find their caretaker. He was sick of humans and their disgusting ways. He wanted to meet someone with purpose, with kindness, with honor and life inside rather than this disease that the rest of the species seems to have.

Granted, he met the kinder ones in the soup kitchens and shelters. But those were hard to find, even among the helping souls. Most of the humans were just trying to eke out an existence and bring down anyone they could to their level. A burning desire to drag the rest of humanity down to the deplorable level of the lowest. It sickened him.

~~

Morning reaches in and they both stretch, languid movements from what looks to be overly beautiful human children. Granted, they look much like young men, sixteen or eighteen at least. But Jack\'s eyes are too innocent and Devon\'s eyes are too filled with pain to be anything so old.

\"Why can\'t we go now?\" Jack sighs and rubs his head under his brother\'s chin, talking in human now that he\'s not overly upset. The clothing was washed and Jack had put his own scent on it as well, letting it mingle with Devon\'s. Somehow, that always made Jack happy. Their things smelled slightly floral, like winter roses almost. But the scent is so light that a human nose would have to be pressed to their skin to scent it. And even then, the dull humans would miss the signatures under the musk, telling of whom it was, their age, their health, their sexual maturity, their strength, their place in the social hierarchy even.

\"There aren\'t any ships going there, Jakkin,\" Devon says softly, running his hands in a comforting gesture through his brother\'s hair. It was strange how humans found offense at these simple act of familial affection. Tyr\'Sur had told them that such displays of connection were not seemly in public. Humans kept to themselves, he said. Humans were afraid of touch, afraid of siblings being too close. They would not understand.

It was nice then, to not have human eyes around. When they\'d stayed in shelters and the like, Jack had suffered, needing the nearness of his family far more than Devon. But then, Jack was a Second Born, an ollis, one of the lesser born. And therefore Jack wasn\'t of the same temperament as his brother, a First Born.

Jack would need someone to care for him. But he was beautiful and he was kind hearted, he needed strength over him. He was all that their species found appealing in a youngling. He\'d probably find a good mate in the realms of their world.

Devon tightens his arms around his brother and sighs.

He\'s not returning.

Devon can\'t. He\'s fallen into a strange love with this world, it\'s violence, it\'s anger, it\'s fear, it\'s emotion. He has become almost too human. The other Katje have lived, died, and remained quietly separate from this world whereas Devon has been unable to do so. His connection with Tyr\'Sur forced him into a recognition of an entirely new way of living. And he\'d not be able to walk away from it. He would not be able to.

He\'d not told his brother this yet. He wasn\'t sure what Jack would say. Katje generally returned soon before reaching full maturity. Those that were sent, that is. It was an esteemed place, he was assured, to return in this way; to know of another alien society made one a member of the Wise. It was not the only way to reach such enlightenment, but it was a good way for adults to give their children a step-up into the higher echelons of society.

He could not return. He knew that Jack would return, but he could not. He had no such desire to be cared for. He only had a fierce independence and will to learn. But he did not care to learn of his own home. He wanted to learn of this place, these creatures who were so destructive yet had such moments of beauty.

~~

They dress as they have every day, their small bodies graceful even in the midst of adolescence. Silver limbs, more golden in a peach pink way for Devon and ivory in Jack\'s case, moving like kelp under water. Their joints more flexible than human\'s, they are able to bend and sway in ways that would make a dancer flush with jealousy.

Finished with this, Devon walks Jack to his job performing at the local coffee shop. It makes little or no money, really. But Jack, sitting at the corner there and singing foreign songs, his repertoire so expansive that he could sing most human operettas without having to think about it, and all parts as well, his range almost as capable as their hearing range was, loves the job and the coffee shop loves the business he brings in by sitting there, forcing people to stop and to listen. Jack has done it now for the six months they\'ve been stuck on the space station.

But it doesn\'t fill their bellies. That\'s Devon\'s job. He goes to a nearby shop and purchases new jeans and a shirt, not feeling as if he can quite get the fear and death smell out of his clothing. Jack could use some more clothing as well. His little brother was due for a growing soon. He picks out some things for Jack that he\'s sure his brother will like, loose clothing that won\'t bind him in the way Devon likes.

This done, he caches his packages at a nearby bar, knowing the owner well. He changes there as well, not minding the smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke as much as he dislikes the fear in a human\'s scent, meant to be rank to scare off predators more then likely, and stalks out onto the street.

~~

Devon doesn\'t come home that night. Jack, after night falls, wanders the street with a whimper each time anyone gets too close to him. Wrapped in an old jacket too heavy for the set temperature of the station, his blonde hair white in the night stars, he seems crazed enough that most people leave him alone.

Come morning however, he has to return home and does so, curling up under a sink that never worked, and sobbing himself to sleep.

The slight touch on his arm and the smell of his brother in his nostrils brings him back and he stares out into the dark room. Night again. \'Devkin?\' he asks brokenly and then launches himself into the other boy\'s arms, his chest filled with an odd, musical thrumming, not unlike a purr.

His brother smells of hate, fear, but nothing on his skin, just faint whiffs of it in the threads of his clothing. Jack runs his palms over his brother\'s body and face to ensure it\'s truly who he hoped, his eyes unable to see in the dark to take note if Devon is hurt. \'You\'re well,\' he sighs in relief and then breaks into sobs. I...I thought they\'d caught you! Or.. or you\'d left without me!

Why would I ever leave you, Jakkin? the soft whisper answers and the pair fall to sleep, clutched together more tightly than they had been for many years, not having been so afraid in a long while.

~~

Devon never tells his brother about that night. He never goes into detail. It was just another part of living with humanity. They couldn\'t understand. And besides, they had rules, didn\'t they?

He learned to run from the security on the space station and on others. He learned to hide when they went further out, searching for a ride to Galdrium, always searching for Tyr\'Sur. His feelings changed as time went on. He became more and more aware of his need to have someone of an equal position around him, perhaps as friend, maybe in a year or less, as a lover. Tyr\'Sur was to be that equal. Tyr\'Sur was of the same moral code, the same thinking as he. Time placed a distance on them and while he understood that Tyr\'Sur would not have ever approved of his selling his body, yet Tyr\'Sur could also, he told himself, recognize the need behind it. His body was the only commodity they had. And thus it only served to recognize he needed to do this. His brother could not. His brother would have suffered but Devon did not suffer overly much.

There are others; other deaths. At times, the humans are too numerous or strong for even he to fight off. Or their reasons aren\'t death but to merely injure. He grows tired of killing and saves his murders to those who wante to kill him as well, an eye for an eye in his mind. The rest are allowed to take their pain out on his body until his body is riddled with scars.

He gets a piercing the first time they go to a moon mine. The piercing in his nipple makes him able to demand a higher fee. He can\'t understand that, but he\'s quick to continue the work. Later he has Jack do a piercing to his other nipple and then one in his belly button. A slender silver chain is slid around his waist and through the ring in his belly. Then, on his sixteenth birthday, he goes out and gets a tattoo of a cat. He giggles when he shows it to Jack. A cat, silver and black, made of metal like a machine, curling down across his chest, over one of the worst of the scars.

By then, he has forgotten to search for Tyr\'Sur any longer. He\'s ceased to care. He\'s making his life. Jack had, at some time, he can\'t recall when, not left. They had come and offered home to Jack while Devon was gone and Jack had refused. He\'d cried and cried, having been afraid that Devon had left without him, but afraid for if Devon hadn\'t, not wanting to leave without his brother. It was then that Devon began to keep his younger brother in safe spots away from human eyes. His brother, so in need of someone to watch over him, may have chosen wrongly under the wrong circumstances. Devon knows how base man can be. He knows monsters might find Jack and desire nothing more than to destroy that innocence.

It happens then, when he\'s sixteen, while his tattoo is still fresh. Men find their hideout. The pair of them hide but Jack, afraid, makes a noise. And Jack gets to see what Devon does for a living.

When they enter the next space station, Jack\'s lightness is gone and his eyes are dark, afraid, and he clings to his brother, not even allowing him out of sight enough to make money for them to eat. Devon begins to steal food when he can get away from Jack for even a moment.

~~

The store is quiet and he pauses, getting a package of chewing gum as he walks up to the counter and puts it down. Flashing a bright white smile, he winks at the older woman there who just glares at him. His long hair makes him a strange sight, he\'s almost too feminine for most people, slender and fae looking.

\"They say you kids buy something small while you stow \'way things in yer pockets,\" she says suspiciously.

He blinks at her. \"Really? I\'ll have to try that next time. I\'m just lookin\' for some gum, ma\'am.\" He smiles again. Usually the charm works. He can turn it on pretty well, actually.

She sighs. \"Yeah, yeah, yeah.\"

While the gum is being rung up, a security officer enters. Devon acts nonchalant, gazing at the man and then turning back to the woman, digging in a pocket (while keeping his arm tightly clamped to his side to keep the hidden canister of Spam against his body) for change.

\"Charlie.\"

\"Heya Marlo. You doin\' okay?\" the man asks.

\"Sure.. sure.. you heard the news?\" she asks eagerly.

He leans against the counter and eyes Devon with the same suspicion. \"Nah.. tell me, huh?\" he asks it as if he really doesn\'t care. He\'s just making his rounds.

\"Halid has demanded their rights to take over the Senate\'s claim on Galdrium. But seems Galdrium is wanting independence. They\'re fighting, saying taxes are too high for them to make money on their investments.\"

\"The business?\" the officer frowns.

\"Nah, the miners. But you remember that other mine? The one no one talks about.\"

The officer laughs. \"You believe that clap trap? It\'s a stupid conspiracy theory against Halid. C\'mon Marlo. You\'re funny.\" He stands.

\"They destroyed the entire moon! They killed people! They\'ve got Halidian Brain Children!!!\" Marlo calls out and then turns to glare at Devon. \"What\'s wrong with you?\"

Devon forgets to hold onto the Spam.

Tyr\'Sur!

The can hitting the floor, he\'s sure that the officer follows him for a block, but seeing as how he\'d left plenty of money on the counter and the gum behind as well, they don\'t have anything on him.

~~

Tyr\'Sur looks across the group of men who stand in the eating room. He frowns. It\'s only been a month into this new war and with Gallagher at their side, he\'d expected more to happen. Already he feels as if he needs to look for help elsewhere. The spies within the mining community were turning out to be a far greater problem than he\'d thought. Already they\'d lost Wilkins and Captain Nadar\'s death forced his taking the position just a week before. They were losing every good man they had to these secret attacks.

\"Gallagher has been in contact with the Senate. He says that they\'re disbelieving of our situation.\" It\'s not what the men want to hear. \"In fact, it\'s a rumor mill, apparently.\" He frowns, not wanting to hold the truth from them all. \"We must hold on until the Senate comes to see our plight and sends us help. We have held on for long already.\"

\"A month?\" one of the men shouts out and Tyr\'Sur nods, exhausted.

\"Yes, but considering our position, I beg you all to remain on the moon and fight for what we have! We will not let them take our homes! Our children! Our lives!\"

A shout. And he laughs, waving a hand. \"Eat. Hell knows if we\'ll eat like this again.\" And with a grim laugh to mock his own, the men go to a merry bit of dining.

The tall hazel eyed man walks silently through the halls, running his hand through his hair. It\'s getting tense. He turns a corner and stops, seeing a group of men standing in a small group in the middle of the hall. Who was it? Uria? Yes.. Uria and...

\"You boys are missing the party,\" he says but feels his stomach sink. And he isn\'t such a fool that he doesn\'t expect the response.

\"No, Captain. The party\'s right here. And it\'s just started.\"

Tyr\'Sur wonders, staring at the group of men advancing on him, if he can work this out another way. But here are his main spies, he can be sure of that. He\'s always suspected Uria of going to the highest bidder anyway. His eyes narrow. \"Uria, Johnson. Pat? Never thought to see you in this group.\"

The men, five in all, pause and one of them chuckles. One he doesn\'t necessarily recognize. A new man to the mine. \"Guess you never can tell, eh Cap?\"

Tyr\'Sur scowls. \"Just surprised. Guess I thought men wouldn\'t sell out their comrades like this.\"

Uria laughs. \"Shit, you\'re gonna go on the loyalty lecture?\" and he calmly picks up a small dart gun. He aims it and Tyr feels the prick of something hitting his neck. \"There,\" Uria chuckles as he watches Tyr\'Sur pull the tiny green dart out of his neck, \"that should make this fairly painless for you. Goodbye, Captain.\"

Tyr\'Sur can feel his head going fuzzy. Maybe not painless, but he won\'t be able to think clearly enough to get help or fight them off. He\'d hoped he could take out at least one or two of them before they overpowered him. This way, not one of them will have marks of a struggle on them.

He snarls and lashes out, feeling a punch come out of nowhere and slam into his head. It\'s an effective blow and he wonders if it\'s a fist or a board or a metal rod or something worse. Stoving his head in will make for a nice, gruesome sight. Feeling his legs buckle, he falls to his hands and knees and sobs.

Dammit, he doesn\'t want to end like this. Killed like a common animal.

~~

The men circle and loom over the fallen captain. Their leader holding a large missile carrier, heavy and thick at one end, sharp at the other. He holds the sharper end up so that the blunt end can make enough serious damage. Again it falls and he grunts. \"Damn, missed his fuckin\' head,\" he chuckles.

It\'s a strange party of men and they\'re busy working on what they\'ve got to notice the figures behind.

\"Look like fun, don\'t you think, Jack?\" comes a soft, svelte voice, like velvet laid haphazardly over granite. The men stop, turn and stare.

Behind them, in the hallway, two young boys stand. One, blonde and delicate, stares in horror at them, his eyes light blue and lost. Before him, about two paces ahead, stands another, taller boy, slender but by no means delicate looking. Rather he looks like a blade unsheathed. His body is more slender than the blonde\'s yet more wiry seeming. The pair, dressed in long black trench coats, spacer boots, and with gloves on their hands made of pale yellow skin, don\'t look real in a way, ethereal and unsettling.

Uria though, is quick to respond. \"Fuck off kid. You don\'t know what you\'re looking at. Might wanna forget you thought you saw it too.\" Behind them, the captain is still on the floor but he\'s in a crumpled mess and it would take a genius to know him. \"This guy owes us money.\"

\"How much?\" the quick voice answers.

Uria laughs. \"More than you can pay, boy.\"

Arching a brow, the red headed boy moves and they can all see now how his hair is as long as the other\'s only bound back in a braid, the tip flipping calmly at his waist as he walks toward them. \"Are you sure about that? If it\'s a death that he has to pay, I can arrange that rather quickly.\"

Uria rolls his eyes. \"Fuck off kid. Like I said y-\"

It\'s the last thing he says. Quicker than the men can follow, the red head flashes forward and slams the heel of his hand into Uria\'s nose, shoving it back into his brain. A fairly simple, practiced motion as if he were doing nothing more than plucking a flower.

Two more are down just as quickly, one with a kick to his neck that breaks it and the other with a second slam of a heel in his breast bone, crashing his heart against his now crushed rib cage.

Devon smiles grimly. He\'s so dark, so black, despite his pale skin and his red hair, he\'s like a shadow. \"I don\'t know about you gentlemen, but I\'ve had plenty of time to decide who\'s next.\"

~~

The drug in their friend\'s blood stream clears up four hours later and Tyr\'Sur comes awake atop a ship in the hangar. He groans, going to sit up, and is instead held down.

\"You\'re up high. You might want to remain as you are,\" comes a soft voice.

He squints, looking up at the dark eyes of a young man above him. \"Uria.. he..\"

\"Uria. I read that on one of the badges. He was the bastard who was trying to do you in, hmm?\" and the red head smiles kindly down at him. \"Just rest. When you\'re feeling up to it, you can introduce us to the crew. But until then, I am thinking it might be safer for us to stay out of sight.\" He turns his head at a scuffle past them and Tyr\'Sur hears him say over his shoulder, \"Jakkin, you want to lend us that blanket?\"

\"J-jakkin...\" Tyr\'Sur whispers before he is covered in the quiet of blissful unconsciousness once again.

~~

Devon climbs into the small nook Jack had found above one of the hallways. It was originally so that a sniper could keep point in the hallways. But it works just perfectly for Katje.

Jack whimpers and pulls away. They\'d been on the moon for two days already and his little brother was slow to accept the travesty he\'d been forced to bear by remaining behind. Devon sighs and curls around his more fair counterpart, curling his long arms around the silver haired alien. \"I\'m sorry, Jakkin,\" he whispers.

Jack shakes his head, nuzzling in close and tucking his hands inside of Devon\'s shirt to feel the bare skin contact that he\'s missing. Clothes are a nuisance when one is seeking comfort. He wants to be a kit again, held against a warm breast and crooned to. \"It is as it is,\" he answers reluctantly in human.

Devon allows the touch, actually craves it himself. Being in danger never is very sweet to him. Not as it seems to be for some humans. He relishes the rush but not the death. And here they are, in the midst of battle. \"It will be worse, kit\" he says softly, somehow recognizing the infant like motions of his brother.

Feeling Jack shudder against him, he tightens his arms around his brother and whispers, \"Tyr\'Sur will keep us safe. And I will keep you safe. I promise.\"

And with a shuddering sob from Jack making its way to the air, the two Katje slowly slip into sleep, wound about one another, neither with the slightest idea of where this small mining conflict will take them.


FIN