Chapter 6: An Unexpected Meeting

Iason sat at a corner table in the busy casino sharing a drink with a short brown-haired man who was the club’s owner. As an Elite he was accustomed to a specific type of attention when he went to a social club or restaurant, but he had not been in the mood for it today. He had known Marjan, the owner of the casino, for a couple of decades and they had developed a more casual relationship, with Iason’s permission of course.

Marjan, who’s arm, leg and eye had been replaced by cybernetic surrogates, had once joked that he could be an Elite if only he was taller and could grow his hair. Iason had found the comment so amusing coming from a five-foot bald man that he had developed an instant liking for the casino owner and when he wanted a low-key reprieve from his life as a Top Blondie he often came here. Also, the Marjan was far less discriminatory about allowing pets, which had never been a consideration until Iason chose Riki as his pet.

“He seems to be doing well,” Marjan said as the waitress set another two drinks in front of them. “Did you teach the boy how to play?”

Iason’s gloved fingers ran over the rim of his glass as his eyes pierced through the small crowds gathered at the different card and dice tables and settled on the one where Riki was playing Dabou; a card game that required a good deal of cunning, skill and bluffing to win against four other players.

“I did not. It appears he had acquired that skill before he came to me.”

“He’s quite old, for a pet, isn’t he?”

Iason nodded. “I spent a good deal of time training him; it would be a waste to just throw him away.”

Marjan chuckled. “Well, if you ever tire of him, send him my way. He would make a good dealer for the house.”

“Do you have many pets working here?”

“A few, it’s difficult to find ones with any common sense and understand more than just looking pretty and opening their mouths or legs, but now and again I come across a pet with good social skills or a head for numbers, so I grab them up. They work far more cheaply than regular workers.”

Iason’s eyebrows rose. “You pay them?” That was unusual, usually when pets were sold to owners for establishments, they were considered slave labor. Shelter and food were provided, which was more than adequate for a used pet, but little else.

“Not what I pay regular employees, of course, as I provide other things for them,” Marjan advised while taking a sip of his drink. “I find that pets work harder when they are earning a little for themselves. They promote my place to other pets, both for play and for employment, and they are far more inclined to offer amiable and exceptional service given their background as pets.”

“Is that not already to be expected, as it is their duty to please their Master?”

“Perhaps, but I find that most people, even pets, who take pride in their work are much better than those that are simply forced to do as they are told. They do things because they want to, not just because they must, and they become happier and more reliable workers.”

“Really?” Iason considered this new piece of information. “Interesting.”

Majan smiled. “It gives them a sense of accomplishment and solidifies their loyalty to me. Everyone needs to feel useful, or at least feel like they are somehow contributing to their own lives. Even pets. A happy worker is a good worker.”

“Hmmmm. I see.” Iason turned his attention back to Riki as he digested Marjan’s words carefully.

Was that why Riki was always so restless? Why did the mongrel refuse to accept any gifts or money other than a few books and his damned tobacco? Was he robbing his pet of his pride and his sense of self, piece by piece, by leaving nothing for him to accomplish on his own? A master’s responsibility was to provide for the needs of his pet, so the pet was not burdened by such things as choice or worries. They are meant to be happy and content with this easy sort of living, and yet Riki rebelled against this process.

Were the things he enjoyed most about Riki, his fire, pride, and stubbornness, inherent in all slum mongrels? Did they all have such a strong sense of self, not because things had been given to them, but because they had been denied so much? Surely not, Iason had met more than his share of useless humans, but perhaps there was a small percentage of them that were like his Riki. Or perhaps Riki was one of a kind, a true diamond among the bags of coal.

He had always thought Riki’s loathing at being taken care of and his multiple attempts for self-sufficiency were due only to his stubbornness of not being taken for a pet. It was just arrogance and perhaps a touch of fear that kept him from completely giving into the idea of having a Master.

Now, after hearing Marjan’s words he wondered if Riki’s reactions may not be stubborn rebellion based on fear and loathing, but on need. Did Riki need to feel useful as well? Was being a pet not enough to stimulate him? Did a pet even need stimulation beyond the bedroom, shopping or reading? Of course, most pets didn’t read beyond a very basic level; Riki was the exception.

Riki had skills that other pets did not, because he had not been bred as a pet but born a free man. He was highly intelligent, despite his consistent use of vulgar language that made him sound every bit the Slum mongrel, and he had exceptional instincts. Riki did not take anyone at face value and gave his respect to no one that he felt did not deserve it. He was a mere slum mongrel before, and now a pet, which was considered a step above mongrel in Tanagura; and yet Riki bowed to no one, not even the highest Blondie of Tanagura.

Iason sipped his drink, thoughtfully. Riki was conditioned and trained to obey him, to respond to him, but even now, four years later, despite all that he had done to make Riki his pet, the young man still fought back against certain things, and still withheld significant pieces of himself. Riki still did not fully belong to him and that was annoying.

As he studied his pet’s expression across the room, he saw that Riki’s face remained calm and impassive, as if he was tired of his surroundings, yet it was obvious that Riki was winning most of the rounds. He was not showing his excitement or his disappointment as the other players were, making it extremely difficult for the players to read him.

Riki was indeed very good at the game, still, Iason wouldn’t have minded if Riki allowed a smile to slip out now and then, or perhaps a laugh. He had never seen or heard either from his pet and it was disappointing. He kept trying of course but had no luck so far.

The mongrel wore a black and red leather jacket that Iason had purchased for him earlier that day, Riki having kept his word had swallowed his pride by picking out the gift after only two shops. But Iason suspected his pet would enjoy the jacket as his black one was getting worn.

After shopping they had returned home for lunch, then Iason sat on the patio of the beach house and watched while Riki taught Cal to swim. He managed to remain surprisingly patient and even managed to get a small smile out of young furniture. In the end though, Cal simply could not relax enough to swim on his own, so they’d gone searching the beach for shells or any strange water creatures.

Riki played his last hand then grabbed his stack of chip discs and walked over to where Iason sat. He was incredibly pleased with himself because he had tripled Iason’s starter money, making more than enough interest for the initial investment, and had made a considerable chunk for himself as well. It felt amazing to play again, to have something of his own that was outside of what Iason gave him. Part of him wanted to send half of it to Guy, but he knew that would just open old wounds and lead to trouble.

Stopping at Iason’s table he set the box of chips down, as pets required a master or casino worker to cash them out and watched the elite smile up at him.

“Well done, Riki!” Iason’s gloved finger ran over the edge of the discs, calculating the amount. “I think I shall have to bring you here more often, rather than use the investments my broker suggests. I’d make far more money.”

Riki felt a wave of pleasure envelop him at the unusual praise, then frowned at why it should mean so much. He hid his confusion behind his usual, biting sarcasm. “Yeah, ‘cause you really need more money.”

Marjan laughed at that. “You know your master very well, pet.” He picked up the box. “I’ll get these cashed for you.”

Riki nodded and then was pulled down on Iason’s lap as long, familiar fingers threading through his hair.

Iason picked up his drink. “Did you want to try another game?”

Riki shook his head. “I’m not really familiar with the other ones.” He sniffed at the liquid in the glass. “What is that?”

“Omardin whiskey. Would you like a taste?”

Riki opened his mouth obediently as Iason held the glass to his lips, ignoring the tinge of embarrassment that the stupid Blondie couldn’t just hand him the damn glass so he could drink himself. The minute the liquid hit his throat he started coughing. It burned all the way down and made his eyes water horribly.

“Holy shit!” he gasped. “Tastes like shuttle fuel!”

Iason chuckled and finished off the drink. “You’ve sampled some strange things in Ceres.”

Riki recovered and his embarrassment made him want to lash out. “How can you drink that? What’s it, like, a special oil for androids to lubricate your insides or something?”

Iason’s eyes darkened. “Careful, or I shall take you over my knee.” He didn’t mind Riki’s belligerence most of the time, but he would not allow any form of disrespect.

“I ... it was just a joke.”

“A poor attempt,” Iason growled, but seeing Riki’s repentant look, he nodded. “Shall we go back then, since you do not want to play further?”

“Yeah, but I gotta piss first.”

“Riki!”

Riki hopped up before Iason could swat him and was already headed for the wash area.

Iason smirked, shook his head as he watched Riki disappear behind the half wall that separated the men’s and women’s washrooms from the main floor of the casino. There was a lightness to his pet now, having played a game and won some money. Yes, indeed. Perhaps there was something to Marjan’s philosophy after all.

“Riki?”

Riki turned towards the quiet, feminine voice and had to catch the back wall to steady himself. “M ... Mimea?”

“Oh Riki!” She dropped her empty drink tray and rushed into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay! Are you working here now too?”

Mimea! Riki couldn’t believe she was standing right in front of him. He’d had horrific nightmares of what had been done to her, had heard that Raoul had sold her to a brothel in Midas, or one of those places. How could she be here? He firmly kept his arms at his sides and glanced at the barrier that hid them from the rest of the room.

“W ... what are you doing here?”

“Master Marjan bought me from a brothel, he said I had people skills. I’ve been working for him for a little over two years now.” She held on tighter. “I was so worried about you. I know you couldn’t say anything back then, I know how afraid you were of Lord Mink, but now you’re free and we can...”

A cold sweat trickled down Riki’s spine as he firmly gripped her arms and pushed her back. “I ... I’m not free, Mimea. I’m still Iason Mink’s pet.”

She blinked at him, confused. “But ... I heard you escaped. And ... and you’re too old to be a pet now. He couldn’t have kept you, he couldn’t!”

She moved towards him again, distressed, and Riki stepped back. “Riki, what is it? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I’m glad you’re doing okay, Mimea, really, and about before...”

“That doesn’t matter now! Now we can be together and...”

“No.” His eyes continued to flicker towards the entrance of the wash areas. “He’s here. He’s here with me and I ... You can’t let him see you, especially not with me. I don’t know what he’ll do...”

“He can’t do anything to me now, I work for Marjan, and I want to talk with you, Riki.” She reached for him, and he slapped her hand away. She gasped and tears welled up in her eyes. “Riki!”

“I never cared about you!” He admitted, as she had only been a means to piss off Iason, and perhaps an experiment to see if sex with a female felt any different than with a male. But he’d underestimated the Blondie’s possessiveness and rage. Still, she’d weighed on his conscience, so he’d held on to a sliver of pity for her. But no more. Now he had to get away from her before Iason saw them together. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my fight with him, but that was all it was. I never expected them to...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for that, I am, but you can’t be here! You can’t talk to me. You can’t even look at me! Iason will kill us both!”

“Oh, Riki. What has he done to you?”

“Just ... go. Hide in the kitchen or an office, something.” He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. “Fuck! You can’t be here!”

“Why are you being so mean? I just wanted to talk to you...”

“Do you want to die? I don’t want to fucking die! I don’t want to be responsible for what happens to you again. You’re not supposed to be my fucking problem, so please, just go, get the hell out of here! Please!”

Mimea’s tears spilled silently down her cheeks. “I’m ... I’m sorry, Riki.” She threw herself at him suddenly, pressed her lips to his.

Riki shoved her back, almost making her stumble. Hurt, she grabbed her discarded tray and hurried off.

Nausea spilled into his gut as he stumbled through the door of the men’s room. He just made it into a stall before he started to vomit. All the visions and feelings of the past rose up and spewed out one after the other until he was on his knees before the toilet and shivering from pain, exertion, and fear. God! What would have happened if Iason had seen them together? It was too terrifying to consider.

Slowly rising on legs that threatened to give at any moment he made his way to the sinks, rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face. As he wiped his arm across his forehead, he caught a whiff of something sweet. Perfume? Shit! Shit! Frantic, he stripped off his jacket and shirt, grabbed some paper towels, poured soap and water on them, and attempted to wash away any lingering scent.

He used more towels to dry, but when he put his damp shirt back on, he could still smell it. It was faint, but it was there, and Iason would notice it in a heartbeat. Shit! Fucking, shit! What was he going to do?

“Riki?”

He stiffened as the cold, familiar voice of his master called to him, and he slowly turned, gripping the sink for support.

“What’s wrong? You look flushed.”