Dangerous Love (ONC 2019 - LGBTQ)

15. Fallout

☆ Dedicated to TE_Bradford and her story "Awakened"  - an AI combat story for the ONC 2019 ☆

Juan found himself hurtling headlong down a path he couldn't seem to escape. He didn't have the courage to tell the Captain the truth and instead, allowed him to believe that Quinn had made an unwelcome pass. He braced himself for the flood of questions that would follow when Quinn told his side of the story, ready to stick doggedly to his statement. It would boil down to a matter of his word against Quinn's. With no evidence to support either side, surely, they'd have to let the matter drop.

But they didn't. For some unknown reason, Quinn didn't tell the Captain the truth, but instead went along with Juan's story. Perhaps he felt he shared some of the guilt for the whole ghastly episode. In any case, it seemed, he was prepared to accept the inevitable reprimand. Neither of them expected Quinn to be dismissed from the service. And by then, it was far too late for him to change his story.

When he heard the news, Juan felt a sharp stab of guilt, adding to the burning knot of shame and resentment roiling in his stomach. Angrily, he tried to tell himself that Quinn was at least partly to blame, damn him. Sometimes, he thought he hated him.

~~~

Harlan stood before the Captain, white-faced as he received his dismissal. He knew it was pointless at this late stage, but he felt the need to defend himself.

"I realise the decision has already been made, ser, but I want you to know the incident wasn't entirely my fault. I know I was the senior officer, I should have said 'no' and sent him away, but the truth is, Diaz came to my room. I didn't go to his. He might have had second thoughts afterwards, but at the time it was consensual."

Harlan didn't know whether the Captain believed him or not, but he didn't wait to find out. His whole career was in ruins, one man's opinion was scarcely going to matter. He packed his bags and left on the next shuttle, oblivious to its destination.

The next few weeks in Avalain were rough. He had no luck finding work other than a few short, casual jobs, and to top off a perfect month, he'd had the fight with Juan and put him in the Clinic.

Lying on a bench in Avalain's space port, waiting for his flight to Syden the following day, Harlan felt he was being crushed by a black cloud of depression. What could possibly go wrong next? When Patrick had stopped and introduced himself, mistaking him for his cousin Ted and inviting him back to his home for the night, Harlan's immediate reaction had been to push him away, he didn't need any more complications in his crappy life. But then he'd taken a second look and changed his mind.

Patrick was cute, kind and generous. And gay. Definitely, openly, unashamedly, gay.

"Wait... My name's Harlan, Harlan Quinn, and if that offer's still open, I'll take you up on it. For the spare room."

And Patrick had said "yes," despite quite obviously having doubts.

Maybe Harlan's luck was finally changing.

~~~

Lying on his back in the dark cave, Harlan smiled faintly as he allowed himself to think of Patrick. Despite the crazy circumstances, he couldn't regret that he'd found him again. Maybe, when this was all over, they could sit down together and Harlan could explain himself. Maybe, Patrick would forgive him and they could make a fresh start... Harlan sighed. Or maybe not.

At least, seeing he was here, he could do his utmost to make sure Patrick stayed safe.

~~~

The man calling himself "Smith" sat alone in his study, swirling the expensive brandy gently in his glass and smiling. He took a sip of the golden liquid, before looking down at the disposable wristcom lying on his desk and reading its message for a second time.

"Agreed."

Bought for a single-use purpose, the device had just fulfilled its function.

There was no mistake, Maddon had agreed.

Smith took a second sip of brandy and sat back, relishing a few moments of quiet triumph to himself before setting the next phase of his plan in motion.

After the initial setback, which he admitted he had been furious about at the time, everything was proceeding as smoothly as the brandy he was drinking. The 'lice were concentrating their efforts in Syden as planned, while the men they hunted were tucked away safe and sound, waiting until they were needed. And now, Maddon had agreed to pay the ransom. A million credits, a paltry enough sum for the life and safety of his eldest son and heir. Though the original plan had been to take both boys, it seemed Maddon was prepared to pay enough for one.

As was the pattern for ransoms in these modern times, tomorrow the boy would be transferred to a sealed container, its lock keyed to open when the payment cleared Smith's special account. The act of opening would then send details of the container's exact location to Maddon's wristcom, a disposable wristcom which Smith had pre-programmed, and sent to Maddon to facilitate the ransom demand. A perfectly orchestrated series of events. By tomorrow evening, Smith would have the ransom credits and Maddon would have his boy. Painless, bloodless, and no risk of anyone getting trigger happy at the moment of exchange.

At least, it would have been, if money was the sole motive.