In His Command (22 page)

Wooden as the beam that would soon bear my weight, he turned, and I could’ve sworn I saw a wick of hope in those blues, blearier than I’d ever seen them. He looked as if I were gonna pledge my undying love to him at this final hour.

“I don’t trust you for an instant. But maybe there’s still a heart beating inside you. I doubt it, but I got no choice.”

He gave a stiff nod.

“Liz.” I aimed my finger at him. “Find her, free her, and don’t fuck her over. Not like you have me. That’s my dying request. Now leave, Company whore.”

His throat bobbed, and his eyes screwed tight. Then his features went placid as the lake at the commune.

I had to add a last rushed whisper. “I hope Miss Eden can forgive you after this.”

The auditory illusions must’ve made a return because I surely misheard his mumbled parting shot. “Only need
your
forgiveness, big man.”

After Blondie’s visit, the food kept coming, fast as I could digest it. The beatings abated. I even managed to rest and exercise, but all that refueling afforded me was ticking minutes during which I played mental games with myself.

What I couldn’t figure out was why he’d tried to ditch me all along our trek. Maybe Blondie had grown a conscience somewhere between Alpha and Chitamauga, knowing what downfall awaited me. Whatever. That good intent certainly wasn’t evident now.

It felt like I’d done this before.
Oh yeah, that’s because I have.
Only the roles were reversed this time because it wasn’t Alejandro on the chopping block but me. If I thought about it, I ought to be thankful it was my turn with the fancy neck-tying in my near future and not Blondie’s.

The ring, again, came back with precise pain sitting solidly in the middle of my chest. I wished I had it in my hand, on my finger, where it belonged. With Nathaniel, I’d belonged. Possessed by him and likewise getting that happy hit of
you are mine
in return.

Love.

Ah shit.

Cracking open, I gave in, just for a little while. Those Company fuckers couldn’t confiscate my memories, and goddamn it, I was keeping them. It was probably my last night in this godforsaken life, and I was gonna spend it remembering every single moment with him from the times we fought to the times we flirted. From waking up in his arms and holding his hand. Blondie, Nathaniel. My lover.

My love.

Dancing at the celebration. Him singing to me with his wicked eyes and lusty ideas. Letting him inside me, my body, my soul.

The flowers.

The cuff.

The ring.

My fucking ring.

The promise of the two of us.

No one was gonna take that shit away from me.

Passing my hands through my hair and down my face, I rubbed over the wetness on my cheeks.
Christ, I love him
.

What a fucking schmuck.

Shaking my head, I understood why Alejandro did what he did. One hundred percent.

Clasping my arms around myself for warmth, I waited for sleep. At least there would be more dreams to ease this ache.

At least death meant no more wondering what might have been, what almost was, or any of that other fairy-tale made-up crap.

Sure enough, my RACE trial was moved forward. I was granted a few more days to heal up and clean up, and true to his word—this time—there were no more go-arounds.

They took me to shit, shower, and shave in a real bathroom and had a brand-spanking-new uniform for me with full regalia for extra shock value. I could see the byline on the D-Ps now:
Commander Caspar Cannon on Trial for Being a Deviant Homo.

Decked out in dark blues, bars, stars, and a few new scars, too, I was escorted aboveground, up the marble stairs, and straight to face my fate.

My head was screwed on tight, my heart put back in its locker, where it would never be unearthed again. I wouldn’t break. I was ready to see this final mission through, maybe cause a little ruckus in the process.
Fuck yeah.

The room was enormous, the ceiling shaped like the silver domes used to keep my food warm. Dark polished wood, plush velvet seats. I blinked at the streams of sunlight slanting through the windows.

Heavily guarded, I marched forward. The shackles at my ankles and wrists didn’t slow my military gait. Rows of seating circled me. Stemming up the walls, tiers of balconies were at the sides and back of me.
I hate that.

Every single seat was taken. There had to be hundreds of Company here, waiting for my punishment to be meted out.

Traversing the aisle, my newly minted black lace-ups rang a sure tune in the hushed silence thickening around me. Facing the head honchos of the RACE Tribunal, I raised my chin another notch…and almost faltered.

There it was, the final kick to my gonads.

Presiding over my trial was Nathaniel Goddamn Rice. Suave, sharp-suited, sporting expressionless features I immediately replicated, he was accompanied by fifteen of his peer group of pussies, one for every Territory.

Hemmed in on all sides. I was going nowhere.

Liz’s no-nonsense voice came to me.
Taking it up the twat, Commander.

Otherwise known as thoroughly fucked.

N
ot only was Backstabbing Blondie part of my one-sided jury—sitting up there in the middle of the raised platform behind a bank of transparent D-P screens—he had a nosegay or bouquet or some such shit of those bastard forget-me-nots in the lapel of his suit instead of a handkerchief monogrammed with MHF. Major Head Fuck, reverting to the asshole I’d come across in his dickhead daddy’s office.

I was still hocking up my nuts when head honcho the hangman mentioned to Blondie, “We all set, Foreman Rice?”

Foreman Rice. Wasn’t he proving to be a jack-off-of-all-trades?

“Ready to start, if you please, Judge.”

Speaking into an invisible mic, the master of ceremonies, aka the head honcho, announced, “We are online.”

Oh, bliss.
My trial was being mainlined via live feed, care of MHF.

Talk about fanfare. The room erupted. I should’ve felt honored, except, of course, the crowd of CO men and women weren’t cheering for me. They were jeering at me.

“HANG THE SODOMITE SOLDIER!”

“Fuck him with his own gun!”

“KILL THE QUEER COMMANDER!”

The room had the kind of acoustics Blondie appreciated, the insults raised in volume and venom. His head dipping briefly to his hands so the sun glanced off the high double-helix piercing, he didn’t appear to love the growing noise so much now.

I thought I was in for a good old-fashioned gangbanging. Masculine and feminine voices mixed alike until the slew of slander slapped against my upright back and slid straight off.

My eyes remained fixed on Blondie.

My fingers relaxed and my breathing steadied.

I am a brick fucking fortress.

A phlegmy chuckle spurted from the head honcho whose name I hadn’t caught, what with the catcalls. “Indeed. We’ll get to that, my fellow officers of the InterNations Council. However, as deemed by the statutes, we must commence with the proceedings. I call for order!”

The wave of silence spread outward, leaving only the near-death buzz in my brain.

Head Honcho began. “On this day, November the twenty-third, year 2070, we convene over the case of Commander Caspar Cannon of the Elite Tactical Unit, Alpha Territory. By the bylaws of the Company, which governs from the Sixteen Founding Territories of the InterNations, it is stated that sexuality of immoral description shall not be abided. As such, the accused will be allowed the opportunity for reparation and rehabilitation as afforded by the approved methods of the Repopulation and Civil Enforcement Program.”

He halted for a breath and peered out over the gathered gung-ho officers. “Our work in the trial of Commander Cannon is facilitated by his confession, which was signed by an authorized proxy on his behalf.”

Nothing said fair like a CO paper pusher simply signing your life away on your own behalf.

For a sickening moment, I wondered if they’d done a fix up on my confession, managed to play my words against Blondie.

Turning to Blondie, he said, “Feed link twelve.”

Oh, they’d worked it over, all right, that declaration I’d omitted to reveal during Blondie’s welfare visit to my cell. The recording was edited to wash away entire sections where I was fighting for words after the watery confinement. My voice ranging across the room sounded as sure as I felt. “Rice hates me. He fought me, and I forced myself on him, raping him repeatedly. Company bitch is what he is. He deserved every ass-pounding I gave him. And I reveled in his screams.”

Relieved my part went off without a hitch, I aimed a pleasant smile at Head Honcho and his fellow fuckwits, keeping my eyes off Blondie, who’d gone ash white.

While the crowd craned forward in their chairs, Head Honcho began his recitation. “The charges against Commander Cannon stand as thus.”

I focused on the visuals. The giant D-P’s showed scenes of me in combat, comforting families of victims, up-to-my-eyeballs covered in muck, with guns slung across my chest and a Corpswoman over my shoulder running for safety. Every single image screamed of the once-honorable soldier now utterly debased. Every byline underlined the CO message that anyone was culpable of illegal behavior if upstanding Commander Cannon was.

Good soldier gone bad.

I’d provided them with the opportunity to fine-tune their antihomo message. I’d given them the ammo to breed more hate, inject more suspicion, to boost the remaining civilians who had sworn their allegiance to the Company and against acceptance.

Rage spiked inside of me while I watched my own personal video and listened to the charges.

“Accused of uncondoned oral copulation.”

My head fell back with a laugh. “Uncondoned oral copulation? Shit, it was straight-up forced blow jobs, a lot of ’em. No need to mince words, right, Blondie?” I winked at him just before the butt end of a sidearm whipped across my cheek, ending my hilarity.

Blondie put me in this coffin, and I’d make sure it was nailed shut. Backhanding the blood from my mouth, I sent him a gruesome grin. The pistol-happy guard snapped a second blow to the back of my skull. I reeled, my chains clanked, and the crowd cheered it all on because a good show was a good show.

“That’s for your insolence, slut.”

I let the rest get recorded in whatever verbiage they wanted, certain my mission was complete.

Rape.

Sodomy.

Wanton corruption of a Company officer.
Always a crowd pleaser.

Homosexual acts of depraved measures—that is,
making love.

Theft.
That fucking ring was mine.

Assault on numerous accounts.
Bonus points.

Per the CO policies, there wouldn’t be a defense. This was merely a promotional event of this highest order. Only the verdict remained.

Clear-cut, right down the line. Each representative’s ruling rang clear. “Guilty. Guilty. Guilty…”

Times fourteen, until it was Blondie’s turn.

Waiting for his say, my blunt nails dug into my palms. I willed him not to do anything stupid because I’d put a lot of work into my setup for his own good, and I hated leaving shit undone.

To my relief, he added his opinion in a low voice. “Guilty.”

With Head Honcho’s vote, I was branded a homosexual deviant thief with a tendency to battery and causing bodily harm…who liked blow jobs. I had to hand it to them. They made short work of this short rope. My trial had ranged through confession, charges, guilty, going down in less than twenty minutes.

Needless to say, I was shocked when the judge asked if I had anything to declare for myself. Maybe he was expecting me to cower or beg, which was so not my style.

“Sure, why the hell not?” I’d go out swinging, give them something they couldn’t spin before it went out live to the masses.

The bloodthirsty mob was just like the one at Alejandro’s hanging. Barely staying in their seats, they raised their fists, snarling taunts. I spoke low, going unheard at first, but as my voice grew in volume, theirs fell away, replaced by narrowed stares stabbing all over my body.

I dug deep, determined to speak for everyone who’d been silenced. For the Freelanders. For Alejandro. For my sister. For Blondie, if he still had the ears to hear it. For me. “I’ve got something to say, all right. In defense of homosexuals. In defense of freedom!”

I jerked my chin toward a young woman polished and pressed until her personality had disappeared. “You ever thought about having sex with someone because it was your choice instead of an ordained match?”

Eyes wide, lips thin, she shook her head.

“You there.” I looked at a middle-aged man whose face appeared chipped from the same granite as the garrison. “You remember your Proving Ceremony? What about the young woman brought to you? Did she get off on it? Being watched by your elders and the executives so you could show just how dedicated you were to the Company cause?”

His hands curled over the arms of his chair, nostrils flaring.

“Was she excited to be on public display? Did she come?” Given enough lead to shake off my armed guards, I bent down in his face, which was beginning to show fissures. “Or was she scared, ashamed, and so fucking alone?”

He warned, “Back off, now.”

I stepped away, into the arms of my security detail. “The decades of upholding rules that discriminate against one faction of our society while championing another, hasn’t that affected anyone here?” Nodding toward Blondie, the man broadcasting this abomination, I repeated, “Not a goddamn one of you?

“This regime, these decrees for what? To recoup the world’s population? That’s bullshit!” I stomped my foot, a futile physical outlet. “I’ve been to a commune. I’ve spent time with the Freelanders. Nomads, you call them? They aren’t the savages the Company’s banged on about. Not animals whose only goal is to kill and screw. They are
Freelanders
because they live in freedom. They love at their own will, and they are
thriving
; their children are plentiful and healthy.

“You have a chance to change this world! You just gonna sit there and wait for the shitstorm to destroy the Company and you with it?”

In the ensuing silence, no one moved to join me.

Surprise.

“You’re just cogs in the Company machine, pieces of InterNations inner workings. They bred you to maintain their rule.” I tried to pull my hands forward, the interlocking chains holding me back. “Where the fuck are your balls?”

I turned to Blondie with his flushed cheeks and drawn lips, a feverish light to his eyes. “I can goddamn guarantee you the Revolutionaries joined by the Freelanders are going to win this war. They have courage.” I wanted to pound my chest, pound their heads together. “Passion! They have honor. Theirs is the righteous fight.”

My balls jumped when a few eyes rose to mine, and the mouths on a handful of onlookers worked as if they had something to say.

In the upper reaches of the balcony, a woman shot to her feet, shouting, “He speaks the truth!”

It was goddamn spiritual, until Head Honcho leaped up, smacking his fist to the table. “Enough! Silence!”

What is he gonna do if I don’t shut up? Kill me? My death warrant is already signed.

That small show of support put a hot coal under his ass. Enraged, the veins in his face lit up in a florid network. “This traitor is not a RACE rehabilitation option.”

“Got that right. I’d rather fuck a goat than be told who to do.” As if I’d ever have sex with a woman. Dumbfucks. My chin shot up higher. Courage, bravery, honor. That was how I was gonna die.

After treason was added to my rap sheet, Blondie spoke up, keeping his eyes on a spot behind my back. “Petition for immediate execution of Commander Cannon, Judge.”

I swallowed my heart right then. I must’ve kept breathing. At least I didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen, even though it felt like I was in an airless chamber.

“I see no harm in this. We have plenty of footage. All of which will prove useful in dispelling future atrocities of this nature.”

I swallowed again, kept up that breathing thing.
No harm at all, only to my person, my heart.

“Permission granted.”

From out of nowhere came the image of Nathaniel below me, the tears in his eyes the first time we made love, his gasps and soft mewls.

I love you, Caspar! You cocky motherfucker.

Maybe I had fallen, hit my head or something, because the next thing I heard wasn’t Blondie proclaiming his love but his smooth drawl asking, “Request special dispensation to carry out the sentence myself.”

Surely my heart would quit now, spare me the details of all this twisted bullshit.

Amid the dissent drowning my ears, Blondie’s voice rose. “Commander Cannon is Elite OPS. I know his MO and his weaknesses.”

Got that right.

More opposition found him standing, his sultry accent replaced by cold, clipped words. “It is my right to kill him! He ruined my reputation. He raped me. If you disagree, I will go straight to CEO Cutler for permission. I want to put the bullet in his brain.” His brow peaked, he demanded, “You dare deny me this?”

“Order! Order!” Head Honcho intervened. “Have you all forgotten we’re waging a war against the likes of Commander Cannon? Let us rid ourselves of one more carrier of this plague in our midst. Permission granted, Nathaniel.” Clapping him on the back, he ordered, “Take him to the woods. Shoot him clean. Bring back his body. You can air the evidence tonight.”

At Blondie’s nod, Head Honcho’s head lowered in his direction. “Well done for bringing him in and tying up the loose ends. I’ll report to your father immediately. He’ll be so proud.”

“Thank you, sir.”

My spine was rigid as an iron bar, my heart destroyed, and all the loving memories of Blondie were finally erased from my head.

Good, let the Company executive execute me.

Escorted outside, I marched.
Left, right, left, right, left.
This day in the life was gonna end with me dead.

My cadence was matched by the three men riding my ass. Blondie plus the muscle backing him up because a prisoner of my magnitude couldn’t be trusted. The guards were surplus to requirements. I knew Blondie could cold-bloodedly cut a throat just as easily as he’d become a turncoat.

No words passed between him and me, only the puffs of our cold breaths commingled. Me in shirtsleeves—stripped of my military honors. He swathed in an overcoat that brushed his calves as he strode.

Beyond the perimeter of the compound and through the gate, the sun washed over my face and the wind bit my skin. Shutting my eyes, I smelled the air. Untouched, the scent of forest filled my lungs. A branch heavy with snow creaked overhead, a plop of slush hitting my shoulder.

Into the woods where no path had been trod, our boots punched through the crust of old stuff underneath. My head was high, shoulders back, muscles stiff against the drag of the metal cuffs as we headed forest-deep, where feathery dark greens were topped by pristine white drifts.

Tension rolled off Blondie, reaching toward me, putting a stumble in my step for a second. I was glad the man I loved would survive. I was tired of living with this hate inside of me. I chanced a look behind me. His jaw was locked in place, his mouth firm, his eyes clapped on my face.