Fallon’s Jewel

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

One month later…

No! No! I beg you! Kenji thrashed around, flailing his arms, clawing at the hands holding him down. To no avail. There were so many of them, their combined strength overwhelmed him, forcing him onto his back. One large hand clamped on his forehead, immobilizing him. A loud buzz thundered in his ears. Something whirred in the air above his face. Lower and lower it came. Shiny, Sharp. Glinting steel, heading right for his eye…

Kenji sat bolt upright, panting. Cold heat prickled along the bare skin of his back and shoulders, coursing down into his abdomen and groin. He sweated so hard, the sheet stuck to his heaving chest. He covered his face with his hands, as if to protect it from the ghastly tool that always went for his left eye.

The nightmare. Again.

Breathe, Kenji, breathe. He inhaled deeply while his own subconscious screams still rang in his ears. No matter how many times he realized it was not really happening, relief always shuddered through him to find his ankles and wrists unshackled and to find his own thin yet soft mattress and sheets under his body.

The drip drip of the sink in the corner began to replace the hideous images. He sighed. Grady, that poor excuse for a landlord, had promised to fix the thing. Last month. If it hadn’t been for the regulated atmosphere of Terran A, the place would probably also be crawling with roaches and other vermin, the way he heard was the case in some places back on Earth.

Uncovering his face, he peered around. The haven of his rented room hadn’t disappeared during his sleep. Not today. The dingy walls with their network of cracks in the plaster still surrounded him. Ratty but comfortable, with the red velvet reclining chair—the one he’d dragged up from the dumpster in the alleyway—in the opposite corner, and the table with his golden statue on it still there, the one possible clue to his existence and an object which, inexplicably, gave him great solace.

He pushed back the covers and lifted himself from the bed. The statue drew him, the way it always did, making him want to kneel before it and just sit there, hands on his thighs, head bowed, his good eye closed. Those moments in front of the statue before getting ready for work were an absolute must, as if the statue itself gave him the strength to get through each day.

The thing had always been in his possession even though he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten it in the first place. Somehow, though, it anchored him, a possible connection to his parents—whoever they might have been. And he must have had parents. No one came into existence without them. No one was just plunked down onto a planet of any kind, fully grown, to work as a bartender in a club for roughnecks who liked other men. He prayed the answers would come eventually and give him back whatever existence he had before forgetting. Even if it was worse than this, at least he’d know who he was.

Raising his face, he opened his eye and looked at it—the perfect likeness of a round, plump man seated cross-legged, one hand on his thigh, from which dangled what appeared to be a chain of beads. Seemingly nondescript at first glance, something in the man’s expression held him whenever he looked at it. Lips curved upward into a smile that seemed to be for nothing in particular. Perhaps a satisfaction in existence itself, the look of a person with nothing at all to worry about. Not life, death, survival, or even loneliness. As if somehow he’d understood it all and it could no longer cause him suffering.

“Who am I?” he whispered to the statue. Of course, the statue didn’t answer, but somehow, it made him feel better simply to voice his question to it. How he longed to know, especially now, since he’d met Fallon. It was so frustrating not to be able to have a normal conversation with the man. After a month of telescreen conversations, Fallon still thought him a refugee unable to reveal his true identity, as he’d come to believe during their very first exchange.

Tonight, however, if all went well, they’d be speaking in person. During their most recent telescreen call the night before last, Fallon had promised to be there on his bar stool when Kenji got to Spike’s. He didn’t even mind that he’d have to wait for Kenji to finish his shift before they got to be alone.

Aside from the solace he took from his statue, nothing had helped him pass the month better than seeing Fallon’s face on the telescreen, his blue eyes, the way their soft color contrasted with his dark, short-cropped hair and offset the rugged look of his cheeks and jaw. And then there were the memories—those few hours they’d spent together in the love hotel, their naked bodies crowded onto that little bed together, licking and sucking and tasting every inch of each other until it was time to leave. Fallon had shown Kenji things he’d never dreamed of. Glimpsing those erotic acts on the stage was one thing. Experiencing them? A different universe!

Even now, thinking about it, he shivered. A frisson of heated energy travelled through his whole body, right down into his c**k.

After bringing each other to climax with their mouths three times that night, dawn had lightened that hotel room, forcing them to get out of the bed even though neither of them had slept five minutes. Reluctantly, they’d risen then showered together—another first for Kenji. Before stepping into the hot water, Fallon had chuckled. “Kenji, don’t you want to take the eye patch off first?”

His insides had clenched. The last thing he wanted was for Fallon to see the damaged eye, get grossed out and not want to be with him again. He’d shaken his head. “No. It stays on.”

Fallon had shrugged his broad shoulders, grinning, yet compassion slipped into his gaze. “Very well, then, keep it on,” he’s said and held the curtain aside for Kenji to get in before him. Fallon had soaped Kenji’s body and then Kenji had done the same, loving the slide of his soapy hands over Fallon’s broad muscles. Of course, that had gotten them going enough for another quickie under the hot spray before they got out, dried each other off and dressed. Parting had truly been sad.

His body already tingling with anticipation, Kenji turned the sink on and splashed tepid water on his face. He wanted to go back to the same room in that place. That hot shower was nice, a luxury he didn’t have in this room, and Fallon deserved better than this dingy little room. He dried his face and looked at himself in the cracked mirror. Time to get ready. He’d even bought a new suit especially to wear for Fallon.

Setting the bowl of warm water on the table, he dipped the washrag in and wrung it out. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dressing mirror, he paused. Normally the question, who am I? usually rose. Usually he wondered what his parents looked like and which Asian country did they originate from. His only possible clue was his name which Mr. Matsuoto said was Japanese, but without a last name, he couldn’t begin to find his family. They could be anywhere, on Earth or one of the Terran outposts.

Tonight, however, he wondered what Fallon had seen in him that had attracted him so powerfully. He certainly wasn’t any better looking than the hustlers at Spike’s, was he? He smoothed the wet cloth over his chest. Instead, he remembered the feel of Fallon’s hands and mouth on the smooth tanned gold of his skin. The other man had seemed to like his texture and flavor. He remembered the contrast of their bodies together, Fallon’s brawn entwined with his slim, willowy musculature. Maybe Fallon had never been with a guy who looked like he did. Kenji was insanely curious. Maybe Fallon had only ever been with that man he’d loved. The one who’d been killed.

Fallon didn’t even seem to care about his eye. And hadn’t pressed about it when Kenji hadn’t wanted to take off the patch to go in the shower. He couldn’t imagine letting anyone see it and kept the patch on at all times except when he was home alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder.

What would Fallon think? Would he be repulsed? Accepting? Kenji looked at his eye now. So strange. Sightless, staring, a cloudy grayish-blue, the skin around it damaged, with a scar that ran up onto his brow and slightly down onto his cheek, a scar the patch never quite covered. Which only led to more questions. What had happened? Had he been born with his eye like this? So far, no one had asked him what had happened to his eye that he had to wear a patch, and even if they did, what could he say? ‘I don’t know,’ was the only answer he had for almost everything except how to pour a drink.

* * * * *

Fallon grinned as the edge of the Raidon Asteroid Belt came into view. He leaned back, setting the patrol pod into auto-cruise, and sipped his beer. Another hour and he’d be on Terran A. A few minutes after that he’d hopefully be seated on his stool at Spike’s, waiting for Kenji to finish his shift. Maybe they could get a room in that place again, ratty as it was. He’d barely noticed. Kenji was intoxicating with his sleek ebony hair, tan skin and eye shaped like a perfect almond. In a word, the bloke was hot.

And Kenji gave just about the best blowjob Fallon had ever experienced. Once Fallon had shown him what to do. Hard to believe Kenji was that innocent. But he was. No one could fake that. Or the sweet depths in Kenji’s eye that rocked him to his toes each time he looked into it.

Just thinking of Kenji made Fallon’s c**k stir in his pants. That one night together had done wonders for him. After Nicky, he’d felt dead even though his body kept going. For a little while, in Kenji’s arms, he’d felt…alive.

Kenji’s face appeared in Fallon’s mind. Again. For the last month, the bloke had occupied an unusually large percentage of his thoughts.

Fallon took another sip of beer. The greenish gold light of an asteroid, reflecting the distant sun, glinted off his windshield. He glanced over at his companion in the co-pilot’s seat. “What do you think, Mike? Spending too much time alone out here in this pod, aren’t I? I’m starting to obsess.”

Mike barked and then whined.

Fallon chuckled. “Sorry, pooch. Didn’t mean to offend you. By alone I meant without another human.” He reached out and ruffled the mutt’s furry ears, then reached into the sack on the console and pulled out a piece of soy jerky, which he fed to the dog. “There,” he said as Mike snapped up the fake meat, “I made it up to you.” He ruffled Mike’s ears again but the dog was oblivious to anything but his feast. A part of Mike would always be that emaciated stray who’d adopted Fallon on last year’s stint to Earth on the trail of a perp. All Fallon had done was toss Mike a piece of the sandwich he’d been carrying. He couldn’t stand to see the skinny mutt picking through garbage for a piece of rotting vegetable matter. Impressive the animal was even alive, considering most dogs had gone the way of other extinct species once there were insufficient meat sources in the world.

But the creature had followed him back to his pod and gone right up the ramp, hopping into the co-pilot’s seat and refusing to leave. No matter, the chair was always empty anyway since Fallon hadn’t ever replaced Nichols. It wasn’t so easy to replace a partner you worked well with, in and out of bed. Which was why he’d transferred to the Patrol Division. Special Ops was no longer an option since…

A pang squeezed Fallon’s chest. It was coming up on two years since Nicky had died in that fire. The report said that a faulty power core in ISP headquarters had shorted on Terran B, destroying a whole wing of the building. And Nicky happened to be in that wing at that moment.

He shook himself and crushed his now empty can, tossing it into the compactor. “I’m getting maudlin,” he said out loud. Probably explained why his thoughts seemed so attached to Kenji after only one night and a few brief telescreen calls.

He started imagining what the coming night together might bring. Maybe Kenji would start by sitting him down and straddling him so they could kiss. Kenji had beautiful soft lips and had learned quickly just how to lick and nibble his lips and tongue while he stroked Fallon’s hardening c**k.

He’d definitely pull Kenji’s shirt off as soon as possible out so he could run his hands over Kenji’s sleekly muscled torso. He’d caressed Kenji’s sleek narrow hips, causing Kenji to pant into his mouth. Maybe, if he was lucky, Kenji would slide down to his knees and suck his c**k until his head felt it would spin into the asteroid belt outside Terran A’s atmosphere—

Fallon pulled his attention back to piloting. There’d be time enough for the real thing once he got to Spike’s. Since Nicky was gone, it was all he could handle. In the meantime, he did his job and spent a great deal of his traveling time talking out loud to Mike.

It really was time to get to Terran A.

Just then his telescreen crackled to life. “Headquarters to Fallon. Come in. Are you there?” The chief’s fleshy face came into focus on the screen.

Fallon flicked the switch to open communication. “I’m here, Chief. Almost to Terran A.”

“Can you give me your exact location?”

Fallon frowned. He checked his coordinates and repeated them to the chief. “Is there a problem?”

“Well, not enough of a problem to cut into your R and R. But I thought you should know. McCray is wandering around on Terran A. He’s probably on the hunt but as long as you’re there, I’d like you to keep tabs on him.”

Fallon heaved a sigh. Figured that one of the universe’s most troublesome bounty hunters would cross paths with him on a rare weekend of leisure. “Sure thing, Chief. Do you have any details on his activity?”

“I hadn’t checked Channel X yet. I was going to have you do that while you’re en route. I contacted you as soon as I’d heard of his whereabouts.”

“All right, Chief. I’ll take a look and then keep an eye out for him.”

His superior nodded. “I knew I could depend on you. Over and out.”

Fallon saluted the chief and switched to Channel X, a continuous newscast of all the bounty hunters working the occupied galaxies under jurisdiction of the Intergalactic Council. The actual surface area this covered wasn’t terribly large yet, since space habitation was only a couple of centuries old, but it was growing all the time and with that growth came the proliferation of bounty hunters. Most of them were legit enough, but there was the occasional complete scumbag like McCray who had no regard for civilian safety when it came to catching his bounty.

Sitting back, Fallon watched the twinkling of distant stars through his windshield while the report droned on in the background.

After several minutes, Mike whined for another piece of jerky. Fallon leaned over to fish around in the bag.

“Next bounty hunter profile,” the female announcer said, “Jethro McCray.”

Fallon froze and focused his attention on the telecast. Absently handing the dried treat to Mike, he felt it being snapped up from his hand as he listened to the report.

A picture flashed onto the telescreen. Yeah. That was McCray all right. Typical bounty hunter with his stringy black hair, menacing scowl and ever-present growth of scrubby beard.

Another bit of time passed with a rundown of McCray’s activities for the past couple of years.

“Come on, come on,” Fallon muttered. “Get to it already. Am I going to be able to relax, or not?”

“Jethro McCray is currently on Terran A, having arrived there at oh-eight hundred hours Earth time,” the voice reported. “The source of his employment for this bounty remains undisclosed.”

“You mean unknown,” Fallon said though Mike was the only one to hear him. They always used the word undisclosed when the hiring party was as scummy as the bounty hunter, or when the bounty wasn’t a criminal. ISP were only obligated to regulate the hunters, not the hirers. Better that way. Fallon and the rest of ISP had their hands full enforcing the laws which regulated the activities of space-traveling bounty hunters. His ears pricked up as the report continued.

“A series of attacks across all space outposts are suspected to have a connection to McCray’s current pursuit. Victims are males roughly in their mid-twenties, of Asian race.”

Fallon‘s fingers tensed on the steering column. That described Kenji. He focused on the next words.

“The attacks have been brutal, leaving each victim blinded in the left eye. The cause for this pattern is as yet unknown, but All ISP personnel are instructed to bring McCray into custody.”

Fallon’s heartbeat increased by the thrum of tension through his body. The left eye. The report switched to the next bounty hunter, but Fallon was no longer listening. Switching off auto-cruise, he increased acceleration to maximum drive, his course set for the nearest landing station on Terran A, his eyes straining through the windshield, as if he could see straight to Terran if he looked hard enough. Shite. Kenji fit the exact description of the attack victims. Only, Kenji was already missing an eye. Or was he? The skin around it was scarred but that didn’t mean the eye itself was missing. It explained why Kenji was so secretive about his identity. He was probably in hiding all this time.

He had to get to Terran A as soon as possible. He’d have gone directly to Kenji’s home, if he’d known where it was. His back muscles tightened. The prospect that the seemingly harmless man could be in danger would have been distressing enough had Fallon never even met him. But he kind of knew Kenji and just didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

In minutes, the glowing orange-pink atmosphere of Terran A came into view. It wouldn’t be much longer now and he’d be at Spike’s.

Hopefully Kenji would be there too, unharmed and working his shift. Fallon flicked the controls furiously. Damn this shitbox for not having warp speed. Only the largest cruisers had such a device. He and Nicky had spent much time grumbling about the lack of power.

God knows, right now he needed it badly. Praying for Kenji’s safety, Fallon set his course for Terran A.