Gryphons
Chapter Six Part One

Rating: R
Category: Original Fiction
Pairing(s):
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: Draephus gets more bad news, and Dahli gets caught in the aftermath.
Notes: Normally I don’t request feedback for anything I have written, as my personal opinion is that it is a tasteless thing to do. However the more I go over this novel, the more I realize I had utterly forgotten just how dark it was in parts, and it’s not quite the dippy fic I recalled. So I’d like to hear opinions, even non-positive ones, and if all you want to say is “I have NO idea what’s going on”, that’s cool too.

The line-up to tell me what a bastard Draephus is starts over there.

Side note about Anthony – he is from Earth, and how he got to Sferkkaa is a novel unto itself, as is the volatile relationship between Saunki and Taischa. Even after I ripped out the threads of the other story lines woven through this book, it’s still over 500 pages long.

If you have already read this part of the chapter, and wish to read Part Two, click here.

Dahli and Diza were dragged out of bed by Teirra the next morning, despite moans, groans and protests. Dahli stated that she was sick, to which Teirra replied that she wouldn't be if she had not eaten what she had before bed. The two ate breakfast, and finally were pushed out the door with the possibility of only being slightly late. But they could fix that. They meandered along slowly, going down alleys, stopping to gaze in shop windows, following the progress of a large bug as it wandered over some rubble. The first class was science, and both were certain that, whatever they were going to be when they grew up, they weren't going to be scientists.

"Are you still seeing Randish?" asked Dahli as they tramped along.

"Yeah," said Diza, breaking into a grin. She looked over at her friend. "Would you like to meet him? I'm meeting him at the Contempo after school, why don't you come along?"

"Sounds like fun. Does your dad know about him yet?"

"My dad would clart in his pants," said Diza. "He'd lock me up for the rest of my life."

“So… that would be a no, I take it.”

Their aimless wandering paid off; the two arrived halfway through class. If they had taken the route that led down to the old sewers they could have missed it completely, but Diza was afraid of the gigantic plague rats that waddled up and down the pipes. Duone Bathers was less than impressed with their time.

"Well, well. So glad you two could make it."

"Good," said Dahli. "We're glad to be here."

She flashed Atania her worn and weary Gryphon shirt, then took her seat next to Czamkiar. He was wearing so much flavoured lip gloss that she could smell it, and he was casually painting his fingernails. His eyes peered out through circles of heavy black, cheeks painted into dramatic, skeletal angles. Dahli fought an urge to tell him his lips were on crooked. He was trying very hard to appear as though he did not notice the looks a couple of boys were throwing him. Sadly the one person he did want to notice, Avalarian, was paying no heed to him whatsoever. Then the door opened and in walked Lyrellyn CZim-Relyn, limping along carefully. Duone Bathers sighed heavily.

“And what is your excuse for being late?” he asked.

“Fell off my heels,” he said, and seated himself at his desk.

Bathers ground his teeth in annoyance, but did not reprimand him; he wasn’t about to chastise a boy of Imperial lineage.

“So when is it arriving?” asked a boy. Apparently the three had arrived in middle of discussion.

"Next week," said Duone Bathers. "I decided that since it has to do with what we are currently working on in class that I would bring it in."

Dahli listened to this, unwilling at first to ask what was arriving, but the knot in her gut told her it was likely the Faylan. She wrote her question down on a pad of paper and pushed it towards Czamkiar. He quickly scribbled a reply; the Faylan was due to arrive just after the two-day respite and come Four or Fiveday, they would dissect it. Dahli passed the note on to Diza, then sat silent, eyes focused on Duone Bathers, just staring. She did not know what she was going to do about this, but she was not about to cut up the Faylan.

Dahli hadn't run across an actual breathing Faylan more than two or three times in her life. Apart from being used as lab animals, they were also kept as status pets by the wealthy. They made excellent pets, she'd heard, though unpredictable. There had been an incident a few months back where a man who had lived with only his Faylan for a number of years had gotten married. When the fellow brought his new bride home, the Faylan had been waiting. As the woman entered the room, the creature leapt, felling her like a prey animal, and went straight for her face. Close to two hundred stitches had closed the wounds, and several cosmetic operations restored most of her good looks. The man shot the Faylan.

Faylans came from the steaming jungle planet of Fayla, a young planet bursting with bright and unusual creatures. The Faylans were a deep rust colour, their hair a dark red, their eyes a heated, luminous green. They were slender, long limbed beings, inquisitive for the most part, rather trusting and non-aggressive. The race had been discovered many years ago by a convoy of Kyphisian trade ships. The ships had pulled into orbit around the then-nameless planet, waiting to make contact with other freighters. It was during the wait that a few of the people aboard the ships decided to send down a shuttle to see if there was life.

There was not only life, there was soon a booming trade in Faylans, and the creatures ended up everywhere. The more fortunate ones became pets of the Kyphisian generals, the not-so-lucky ended up in labs and other, less savoury places. The military used them to guard their buildings, preying on the Faylan's easily-influenced nature. Nobody raised the question as to what exactly a Faylan was, be it human or animal, until the much doted-on pet of some military figure presented him with twins. There was no questioning who the father was; the children were fair-skinned with white hair. Neither was a Faylan characteristic. Then the question was brought into being, and while a few said yes, most insisted the answer was no, and the feralyke continued to chase its own bottom right into modern times.

There were two main differences which scientists used to support the argument that Faylans weren't human. First, they were hermaphrodites, both male and female united in the same long, red body. But more than this, Faylan could not speak. They were by no means mute; they could make a whole array of sounds. They barked, yipped, howled, growled, snarled, trilled, and roared. The most common sounds were the barks, yips and trills, which seemed to pass as conversation. Barking was reserved for play and for friends. Howling was pure distress, and growls were fairly multi-purpose. As a former Duone of Dahli's had once put it, growls "could mean anything from `want to get lucky?' to `I just ate your neighbour's bird'."

The only Faylan Dahli had ever had any real contact with was Sikine. He had been the pet of her seventh-year Duone, and the man's constant companion. He didn't accompany him to school, but that was the only place he didn't go. Markets, parks, concerts and parties were everyday dealings to him, and Sikine never let ‘his’ Sferkkaan out of his sight. He had to wear the mandatory leash, but even this had been gotten around. More than once Dahli had seen Sikine up a tree or trailing along after the Duone with his leash either draped around his neck or tied loosely around his waist. This way, if anyone reminded his owner that he had to wear a leash, he could respond, "He is wearing a leash."

It was Sikine who coloured Dahli's whole image of Faylans. Once when Dahli had been travelling down a back road, she saw Duone Ryer's green conni bounce by. Duone Ryer, however had not been the one driving. Dahli could have sworn neither of them was sober. She had thought about them frequently since they had moved away last year, and missed both of them.

Dahli thought about her old Duone's companion. Surely that was what he had been, a companion, a friend. Nothing that could learn to drive was a pet. Certainly it was nothing to be stuck in a lab and dissected. Dahli stared at Duone Bathers, her green eyes focused on his face. She could see his lips move, but she could hardly hear a word he said. She was far away in her own mind, thinking...

***---***

School let out for the day, finally. Dahli was spared having to explain where her paper was as the Duone had put off collecting the assignments until tomorrow. Dahli, Diza and Czamkiar left the school and walked down to the Contempo, a popular hang-out for both teenagers and leftover revolutionaries, unsure as to what they should do with themselves now that the war was over. It was, in fact, the only place in Second City where one could get a cup of coffee; albeit watered down and ludicrously expensive. Trade with the South Continent was spotty at best, and coffee was a luxury, not a necessity of life. In fact the only reason The Contempo served coffee at all was because the same worn-out revolutionaries that haunted it made trips down to the South Continent to bring up the beans. As Dahli walked into the café, she had no idea at all she was in the same room with a man who mere days ago had given a small sack of coffee to Khandid Stracona.

Dahli spotted Randish the moment they entered the place. He was the only Siriusian present, and there was no mistaking him as anything other than someone who lived in the Lower Cylinder. His eyes were obscured by cords of long, shaggy hair that spilled down over the collar of his over-sized black jacket, and it was hard to tell where the hair ended and the coat began. The hands that rested on the table top were large and broad, the oversized knuckles giving them a spidery look. His features, what Dahli could see of them, were beautifully chiselled, the lips largish and sensual. His skin was dark, so when he smiled at Diza's approach his large, white teeth with their gigantic canines glared into view like a feralyke’s smile. Then, as if recalling the all-too-useful looking devices, he forced his lips back down over them. He stood up to greet them, rising above their heads on long, leather clad legs. His tall boots were fastened with an array of straps and buckles. More buckles were attached to the wide belt that circled his hips. Silver chains hung in careful artistry from the black jacket and a studded leather collar rested around his throat. As Diza stepped forward to put her arms around the neck of the hairy, rangy being, Dahli could fully understand why her friend did not want her father to get a look at her boyfriend.

"Dahli, Czamkiar," said Diza, taking the creature by one long wrist, "this is Randish."

"Hi," said Czamkiar. Dahli found she was unable to say anything.

"Have you been here long?" Diza asked Randish as they sat down. She made an attempt to clear some of the heavy cords of hair out of Randish's face, and Dahli was startled to notice he actually had eyes – big brown ones.

"No," he said, his voice soft, and rough. "Just a few minutes." He held up a flat, rectangular object. "Server gave me a list. You read it to me."

"What do you mean, `you read it to me'?"

Randish thought about this for a moment. "You read it to me...please?"

"Can't you read?"

"No."

"Randish..." Diza gently chided, and he grinned that awful toothy grin, resting his head against Diza's shoulder. Dahli found it fascinating that he actually had to crouch to be able to look her in the eye.

They each ordered their food, Randish asking for shaumaus. He flinched when Dahli lit a cigarette, an animal reaction to the smoke. She recalled Diza saying he was from off the planet, and after only one or two puffs, she stubbed it out.

"He's sweet," Dahli commented later, when Randish had gone to the washroom.

"Isn't he just?" gushed Diza, all smiles.

"He's hairy," said Czamkiar. "Are you sure he's got an upper face?"

"Clart," said Diza.

"How'd he get to Sferkkaa?" asked Dahli.

"Same way they all did," said Diza. "He was caught by the alien poachers and brought back as a lab animal. Except shortly after he arrived the Emperor declared that there were no more experiments to be made on Siriusians, and the ones that wished to remain on Sferkkaa had to be provided for. After the ones who wanted to go home were brought back, all expeditions to the planet were banned."

"So how come the Emperor didn't ban experiments on Faylans as well?"

"Faylans are big business, and our economy needs that right now, badly," said Czamkiar. "Besides, Siriusians don't bark."

Dahli picked at the food before her thoughtfully. "I wish I knew of a way to stop Duone Bathers from bringing in that dead body."

"Not much we can do," said Diza. “You did everything you could, you even went and saw the Emperor about it.”

"I guess," said Dahli, "but it makes me ill. Oh well. Maybe I can't stop him, but I don't have to participate in this, either."

The group of friends finished up their meal and parted ways, Dahli and Czamkiar watching Diza walk off with her enormous, shaggy boyfriend. He made her look like a child, his huge hand engulfing hers.

"We should follow after them," said Czamkiar, "so we can pick up the pieces in case he trips and falls on her."

Dahli narrowed her eyes and grinned wickedly. “Yeah, well, if he falls on her I don’t think she will let him up, and she doesn’t need us for that.” She linked her arm through Czamkiar's. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

They parted ways when they reached Czamkiar's door, and Dahli continued on her own way home. She greeted Teirra and Atterick as she came in, heading upstairs to her room to finish her history paper. This did not take as long as she had feared it would, and supper was almost ready by the time she came back down again. Dahli decided that it must have been Teirra's evening to cook; she didn't smell smoke. Atterick was seated in a chair near the fireplace when Dahli came downstairs. His eyes were closed, chin resting on his chest. Dahli brought her face mere centimetres from his and asked loudly, "Are you awake?"

"No."

"Oh." She sat down on the floor, ignoring the fact that there was a roomful of perfectly good chairs. "How long is your band playing at the music hall?"

Atterick yawned, stretching. "Well, we were only supposed to play until Sevenday, but it looks like we'll be asked to stay another two nights."

Dahli grinned. "Atterick, the great new Ra musician of the year."

He laughed. "Not yet, but maybe some day."

"Do you suppose I could sneak in to see you play?"

"Not likely, but if I meet anyone famous I'll be sure to tell you."

Dahli grinned. She briefly considered showing him her cartoon, but decided against it. She wasn't sure why, but there were reasons she wanted to keep it to herself other than the obvious ones. It was hers, and she didn't want to share it.

It was to be a quiet evening alone, Dahli decided as Teirra and Atterick left for the music hall two hours later. Diza was out with Randish, and Czamkiar wasn't likely to come by. She found an interesting programme on the Visual to watch, then after it was over she climbed the stairs to her room and went to bed early.

***---***

Draephus wasn't sure why, but there was something about being in Raski's black conni that made himself, Mars and Raski act like fools. They tore down the unlit road at an insane speed. sailing over every slight bump as they roared through the night like a black comet, trying to stay alive long enough to reach the music hall.

"Turn on the receiver," said Raski, not seeming to notice when Mars cornered on two wheels. Draephus reached over from the back seat to turn on the receiver, and the three were confronted with the dubious honour of hearing themselves.

"Turn it off," said Mars.

Raski lunged forward to prevent his friend from doing so. "No, no, wait, I want to hear this. Listen."

They did, Mars sighing.

"Did you hear that?" Raski yelled. "That progression stinks, it always stank. It sounds like somebody's messed with the speed."

"If you hate the quinticord line, you should have complained to Khandid while we were recording it," said Mars.

"Ah you can't tell Khandi anything," said Raski with a dismissive wave of his hand. He sank back into the passenger’s seat.

"I don't know about that," said Draephus, "I've heard you tell Khandid lots of things."

"Yeah," said Mars. "I've heard you tell him he's an unartistic pink nightmare, and that he doesn't know a quint line from a brain haemorrhage."

"Hard to understand why he doesn't pay any attention to you when you offer such constructive criticism," said Draephus.

"Yeah and you hang out with little girls in restaurant bathrooms, so what does that make you?"

"Šukat you, man!" yelled Draephus in mock rage, pouncing over the seat at Raski. He accidentally crashed into Mars, who lost control of the vehicle, and suddenly they were hydroplaning in circles on the wet black road. Draephus was thrown back into the rear seat, while Mars fought madly with the wheel. He felt the conni begin to tip, but miraculously, it did not flip over. Instead it wound to a stop, dead in the centre of the road. The three in the vehicle were silent. There was no sound, save for the disembodied voice of the announcer coming out of the small speaker.

"That was the Mortified Gryphons with another great song, ' Flying to the After-Life,' with a wonderful and unusual quinticord arrangement by Khandid Stracona, one of the greatest musicians of our day..."

Mars weakly turned off the receiver. He rested his face against the steering wheel, breathing deeply.

"I think I just gave birth," he said in a strained voice.

Raski's head popped up from beneath the dash. "Hey man, you're not birthing anything in this conni, these seats are leather."

Mars swatted weakly at Raski as Draephus climbed into the front seat.

"I'll drive," he said. Mars nodded and climbed over him to get onto the back of the vehicle. Raski sat up, and, as Draephus started the conni forward, continued his tirade.

"`Great musician'? Khandid? I'm gonna call him up just to tell him he's clart. Pass me the ‘com."

Mars handed Raski his personal telcom, which he accepted, and dialled Khandid’s number.

"Hello Raski."

"Khandi you're a clart."

"You're just annoyed because I wrote 'Flying to the After-Life' and you didn't. And because the man on the receiver justifiably called me a great musician."

"You heard that?"

"I called in and requested it."

Raski stared at the ‘com in his hand for a moment. "WHY WOULD YOU CALL UP AND ASK TO HEAR A SONG YOU WROTE!?"

"Because I know you hate that song, and I also know you go crackers when you can't hear the receiver. So I told the man who I was and asked him to play that song and say how great I am. So now you're annoyed and I got what I wanted. Good night, Raski."

"Clart," said Raski, then hung up, shaking his head. He thumped back into his seat. "He realises now I am going to have to retaliate."

They finally reached Ayre's Music Hall, parking before the grand structure. The Music Hall had been built long ago, painstakingly crafted into a beautiful and acoustically perfect music room. It was one of the most popular places to go for an evening, frequented mostly by professional musicians and those who worked with them. It was the best place to hear new bands and new styles of music, and was considered a necessary milestone along the path to fame.

Mars, Raski and Draephus stepped out of the conni, pausing to watch the small, orange satellites blaze by, trailing light that reflected on the wet street. They crossed the pavement, jogging up the steps that let to the aged structure, darting inside to get out of the rain. They walked into the great ballroom, stopping to look around.

"See anybody famous?" Raski asked as Mars shook out his long, damp hair.

"I don't even see a table," said Mars. "Wonderful. We get to stand in the middle of the floor all night and look stupid."

"Why not?" said Draephus. "We get paid to stand on stage and look stupid."

"Lies, all of it," said Raski. "We're too good-looking to look stupid. Hey there's a table."

They made their way over to the table. It was in a bad location, too close to the towering amp-plants for comfort. The jagged leaves had gone strange shades from too many different types of music, and were vibrating gently from the crowd noise, occasionally twisting to follow a passer-by. However the table did present a good view of the stage. They would have no trouble seeing the band when it came on.

A server materialised by their table, a tall, leggy young man with a lot of shaggy black hair. "Heia. Can I get you anything?"

"A tall, good-looking man, hold the ice," said Raski.

"We don't serve those," the man said. “We only serve guys who look like you.” He turned to Mars. "What would you like?"

"Just wine," said Mars.

"Hey," continued Raski to the server, undaunted by his earlier remark, "what are you doing tonight?"

"Burning your solo album."

Draephus burst into laughter, a horrible rasping sound that was more like coughing than laughing. Raski tried and failed to look offended. Mars grinned quietly. The server took Draephus' order and dodged off into the crowd.

"Oh, poor Raski," said Mars fondly. "If you weren't so obnoxious people wouldn't say these things to you."

"Yeah, I guess," said Raski, pouting slightly. Then he brightened. "Okay, plan for the evening. I'm going to pick up the band."

"Why?" asked Mars.

"Role reversal." said Raski. "What about you?"

"Oh I don't know," said Mars. "I just want to have a few drinks and hear the music."

"Draephus?"

Draephus shifted in his seat. "Probably just end up picking a fight."

"Okay," said Raski, "it's a race. Let's see who gets drunk, naked, or killed first."

Mars sighed, shaking his head. Then, catching sight of someone he knew, he rose from his seat and darted off into the crowd. Once he was out of view, Raski leaned forward to give Draephus a soft kiss.

“You’re not really going to pick anyone up, are you?” Draephus asked quietly, resting his brow against Raski’s.

“No,” said Raski. “Everything I want is sitting right here at this table, and is definitely worth waiting for. I just wish we didn’t have to hide.”

“Well Vesper said we didn’t have to, but…”

Raski nodded. “No, I am in full agreement with you. Vesper’s your lover and he’s my friend, and I think we should definitely wait.” He grinned, his eyes glittering. “But I reserve the right to watch you walk and fantasize.”

“Watch me walk? Raski you and I both know I don’t walk. Stagger, stumble, lope, and fall, yes. Walk, no.”

“You stumble and fall all you like. I’ll catch you.”

Draephus stared into the pale blue eyes. “You shouldn’t have to catch me.”

“I don’t have to catch you. I do it because I want to.”

They gazed at each other, staring into each other’s eyes, understanding each other on a level no one else could. Then the server came by with their drinks and they sat back in their chairs. Moments later Mars appeared, dropping into his own seat. Then the lights dimmed, and they waited for the band to make their appearance.

***---***

The five came onto the stage amidst some applause and cheering. Atterick seated himself at the drums, picking up his sticks. His eyes searched out Teirra, finding her somewhere past the lights. The striped quinticord player, who called himself by the Earth name of Anthony, stepped across the stage on long skinny legs to a place over by the keybarr. The stripes were real, and apparently did go all the way down, but Anthony never did say whether he was from on or off the planet.

The other three members of the band stepped out now as well; Taischa the lead singer, Amber the keybarrist from some other indeterminate place, and finally Luka the sepulchord player. Atterick once more glanced towards Teirra, seated alone at a large table. Saunki was due to show up, a friend of Teirra's whom Taischa had taken a strong liking to. As of yet he had not arrived, and Atterick could sense Taischa was rather upset by this. This could make for an interesting evening.

Anthony picked up his quinticord, the warmth of his hand causing it to glow into life. Fine laser lines appeared, running down its length, and the device quietly informed him that it was in tune. He snapped a switch that would allow him to record his performance, and the tiny memory chip in the instrument also glowed into life. Taischa stepped to the front of the stage, hanging himself off of an antiquated stand-up microphone of which he was fond. Then Amber started a low haunting melody, the soft, eerie sound filtering up beneath the applause of the crowd. As the audience fell silent Anthony and Luka could be heard as they came up under the keybarr, quinticord and sepulchord weaving together into a low, undulating harmony. Atterick awaited his cue as Taischa began to sing in his sultry tones, sinewy body swaying to the music. Atterick smiled, they were in rare form tonight.

***---***

"They're good," Raski called above the music.

Draephus nodded. "Better than we were when we first started out. I wonder why we haven't heard about these guys before?"

Mars was squinting at one of the people on stage. "What is the quinticord player?"

"Striped," said Raski.

"Oh, no clart, beaker. But what is he? I've never seen a striped alien before."

"Probably a Breed," said Raski.

"Probably painted," said Draephus. "Fine trinta says he’ll start to run halfway through the set."

The set wore on, and the stripes remained solid. This led to other theories as to what he may be, and finally Mars announced that he was going to go ask the man after the set.

"Oh sure," said Raski. "`Excuse me, but what are you?'"

"I'm sure I can come up with something more tactful than that," said Mars.

"Yeah well you talk to the stripy guy, I want to talk to the little thing they have playing sepulchord."

Mars stared at Raski for a long moment. "You aren't going to do anything to mortify me, are you?"

"I don't know, I haven't done anything to seriously embarrass you in a long time."

"Don't," said Mars.

The trio ceased their conversation when the quinticord player began to sing. He had a way of moving his body that didn't look quite believable, or perhaps it was the long coat with its high ruff of coarse, bestial hair that caused the illusion. His own mane of long dark hair hung over his fair-skinned features in a veil as his crooning voice rose up into an agonizing scream, trailing off as though into a void. The Gryphons exchanged glances.

"They're good," said Mars.

"Too good," said Raski. "In another year it will be 'The Mortified Who?'"

"Not likely," said Draephus.

"Hey," said Raski, "look at what happened to 'Nevermind.'"

"They blew themselves into oblivion," said Draephus. "And besides that the lead singer killed himself so its no wonder they're not around anymore. Even when we do retire, we'll still be The Gryphons. Nothing can take that from us."

"Unless they start calling us has-beens."

"Lighten up, it'll never happen. You always get so morbid when you see young groups with lots of talent and potential. Before we got famous you used to get morbid when you saw established groups."

"It's just that..." Raski began.

"Raski," said Mars, "don't worry about it. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves, not contemplating suicide."

Raski fell silent for a brief time, then said "I just don't want to be watching a 'Where Are They Now?' show and see us on it."

"Well you could always go to school and learn a trade," said Draephus. "I mean if this clarty band we're in doesn't break the billion-trinta mark soon we may as well call it quits."

Raski glared at his friend. "You're such a sarcastic clart, Draephus."

***---***

The set came to its conclusion, and the band stepped down to enthusiastic applause and cheering. Atterick joined Teirra at the table, sitting next to her, his four band-mates following in a loose group.

"Were we all right?" he asked.

Teirra laughed. "Yeah, fair to mediocre."

Atterick kissed her face, then leaned back in his seat. Taischa drummed his fingers on the table top irritably, drawing attention to himself.

"Did Saunki show?" he asked suddenly.

"I called him," said Teirra. "He'd like you to call."

Taischa nodded, rising to his feet and leaving the table.

Luka watched him go, sipping his drink, unconcerned with Taischa and his endless drama. His mind was elsewhere, roaming at will, ranging from what he had eaten for supper to whether he should get a new sepulchord, the one he had now was beginning to show its age.

He saw the man a few tables away rise to his feet without actually noticing him; seeing and yet not seeing the tall figure roam casually towards him. Then he blinked, recognition taking hold. Luka opened his mouth to say something to his companions, but nothing came out. No one else even noticed the intruder until he walked up to the table and spoke.

"Good set," said Raski, "you were great."

Luka stared back at the man whose style he had been trying hard for the last three years to emulate. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little weak.

Teirra nudged Atterick in the ribs. "That's Raski Jervyas!" she hissed into his ear.

"I know!" Atterick hissed back.

"Well ask the man to sit down!"

Atterick made himself stand up and extend a hand to Raski, hoping his palm wasn’t half as sweaty as he suspected it was. "Hi, I'm Atterick. This is my wife Teirra, this is Anthony, and Amber, and this is Luka. Have a seat."

Raski accepted the hand. "Hi, you're the drummer. My friend over there was watching you, he was pretty impressed. I could tell because he blinked once."

“Your… friend?” asked Atterick. His stomach clenched into a knot, suspecting he knew who Raski was going to name.

"Yeah, Draephus,” said Raski happily. "He’s sitting over there." Raski indicated the general direction from whence he had come. He turned his blue-white eyes towards Luka. "Been playing long?"

"Twelve years," came the soft reply. The expression on Luka's face was one of wary disbelief. That expression did not change when Mars David decided to make himself known as well. He walked up to stand behind Raski's chair, resting his hands on the tall back. He looked down at him fondly, long, fuchsia-dyed hair spilling from under his hat and trailing down to lie across Raski’s shoulders.

"Are you bothering these people?"

"No, but I am sure you will."

"I doubt that," said Atterick. "Have a seat." As Mars seated himself, Atterick asked, "What brings you down here?"

Mars shrugged. "Just thought we'd come in and hear the band. Draephus said he heard you were good. He was right."

"That's pretty high praise, coming from you," said Atterick.

Mars just smiled. Next to him, Raski once more turned his attention to Luka, who still had the same I-don't-believe-I'm-talking-to-you look on his face.

"Nice old sepulchord you have,” Raski said.

"Really?" said Luka. "It's a bit old, it acts up sometimes."

"It's a Legri, though, isn't it? Get it fixed and hang on to it. You can't beat them. I had one, but I sold it. Dumbest thing I ever did."

Mars lit up a cigarette, exhaling smoke. "I doubt that. I happen to know you have done stupider things just today."

"Find a planet," said Raski.

Mars and Raski grinned at each other, then they both turned their attention to Anthony simultaneously.

"Listen," began Mars, "I realise this is rude but we just have to ask..."

"They're real," said Anthony.

A chair being pulled violently from the table announced the return of Taischa. He thumped down into it, not seeming to notice those about him. He sat motionless, eyes fixed ahead, a dull smoking anger enshrouding him. Whatever the conversation with Saunki had been, it had not been good. He reached for his drink, the gesture slow and seemingly unconscious. His thoughts were elsewhere and, judging from the look in his eyes, violent.

"Did you talk to him?" asked Teirra gently.

Taischa said nothing for a moment. "Yeah I did." His tone was quiet, belying the anger. He stared into his glass as he spoke, indicating he did not much wish to discuss things. "He asked me to come over and see him when we finished playing." He set down his glass, then suddenly noticed Raski and Mars. Taischa stared, and shook his head once, blinking, as if trying to convince himself that the two strangers at the table really were Raski Jervyas and Mars David, not an illusion.

"Heia," he said.

"Heia," said Raski. "We just came by to tell you we thought your band is great."

Taischa seemed to brighten a little at this. "Really? Thanks."

The server came over to the table. He paused when he saw Raski, a wary look on his face.

"Baby!" exclaimed Raski.

"I thought you'd left. I mean, what would you like?"

"Are you available?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then I'll have another Brain Surgeon."

The server took their orders and went his way, Raski watching him leave. He sighed.

"Looks and money, and still no one to love me."

Mars kissed his nose. "That's because you're an obnoxious clart."

It came time for the second set. Mars watched Anthony as he rose and began walking over to the stage, one eyebrow raised, green eyes fixed on his lean frame. As if sensing the look, Anthony stopped and looked over his shoulder at Mars, then, after a pause, returned to the table.

“I’m singing this set; think you… might want to join me? First song is ‘Watching It All’ by…”

Before Anthony could finish asking, Mars bounced out of his seat. “Try and stop me, that is my favourite song. I’ll do the high parts.”

Teirra and Raski watched Mars leave with Anthony, then Raski sighed. “Abandoned again.”

“I think Mars likes Anthony,” said Teirra.

“Yeah well there’s a whole lot to like,” said Raski. “Be nice to see Mars hook up with someone who can put up with his nervous disorders and fondness for explosives.”

Teirra looked at Raski. “He’s not seeing anyone?”

Raski gave her a crooked smile. “Nope. He’s sweet and pretty and intelligent, and an absolute šukating mess emotionally. Spent a few months in a Grey Boy prison.”

Teirra swallowed the bile that threatened to rise. “I heard that. I wasn’t sure it was true.”

“It’s true. Makes him a little… nervy, I guess the word is. Most people want to be with Mars David, the famous singer. What they get is Mars David, the guy who had to dig his way out of a torture chamber with his dead friend’s rib. They’re not the same person.”

Raski smiled as he watched Mars hop onto the stage between Taischa and Anthony, both of whom were considerably taller than he. Mars looked from one to the other, then darted off to return moments later with a drum case. He placed it before the microphone and stood on it.

“He’s awfully cute, though,” said Teirra.

“Yeah, he is, and he knows it, and so does Khandid. The pair of them make my teeth hurt. That’s why we have Draephus, to cut down on the sugar content. Speaking of Draephus, I should go get him.” He paused as he noticed Teirra break into a large smile.

"My younger sister would be bouncing off of the walls right now," she said.

"Is she a Gryphons fan?"

"She's a Draephus fan. Completely and hopelessly in love with him. She even took up the drums a while ago."

"Tell her he snores and leaves his clothes strewn all over the place."

"She won't care. She'll probably pull my head off because I got to meet him."

Raski turned in his seat and motioned Draephus to come over, and grinned when he saw his friend’s head fall back and his eyes roll. At last he relented and stood up, walking towards the table.

“So you guys really did fight in the war,” said Teirra. “That’s not just hype.”

“No, we all fought,” said Raski. “I was the only one actually in the military, though. I was a fighter pilot, at least until I was shot down and died and a very determined doctor brought me back. Draephus hid in buildings and shot at things from surprisingly far away. Didn’t you?” Raski said as Draephus sat down.

“Shot at them from close up, too.” Draephus thumped himself down into the seat next to Raski, his blackened eyes hidden behind his shades.

"Her sister is in love with you,” said Raski.

"Poor child," said Draephus.

Raski smiled, running his hand through Draephus’ sandy hair. He turned his attention back to Teirra. “So what about you? What did you do in the war?”

“Dressed like a man and kept my mouth shut, mostly, me and my sister both. Hid in the catacombs under the old city with some refugees and a couple of defected Grey Boys who wouldn’t let us drink the water.”

Raski’s eyes lit up. “Jai and Shalsairas, right?”

“That’s them! Do you know them?”

“Yeah, I knew Jai and Shal, we all did. Loved those guys. Just sickening what happened.”

Teirra blinked. “What happened? What do you mean?”

Raski looked at Teirra, then glanced to Draephus, who said quietly; “They were murdered a few months back. Someone tracked them to their hiding place and butchered the both of them.”

Teirra’s jaw dropped, and her eyes filled with tears. “No. No tell me that’s not true! I loved those two, if it hadn’t been for them I’d be dead, and so would about one hundred and fifty other people! They were heroes!”

“Yeah, well, sadly, to someone they were just another couple of Grey Boys,” said Draephus quietly. “And if I ever find out who, I’m gonna return the favour.”

***---***

The band played their three sets for the night and left the stage. Mars seated himself next to Anthony, a move not lost on the others seated at the table. The server came around to take orders for the last drink of the evening. Raski didn't order anything, and Draephus was face down on the table. Teirra had become rather fond of all three of them by now, and was going to be rather sad to part ways with them. It was Anthony who came up with a way to encourage them to stay around a little longer.

"We were going to have a sort of a gathering after the show," he said to Mars. "Like to come along?"

Mars at this point in time would have followed Anthony anywhere.

"Sure," he said.

`We were?' thought Atterick, then said, "Yeah, over at our place. Nothing much."

"Sounds good to us," said Mars. "Be nice to mingle with some normal people for once."

Raski grasped Draephus’ head and raised it from the table. “Draephus?”

“Mph?”

“We’re taking you someplace else to pass out. Is that okay?”

“Mph.”

“Good boy.”

They left the music hall, Anthony getting into the conni with Mars and his friends. Atterick got into his own conni with Teirra and Luka, the other two band members following in another vehicle. Atterick pulled out of the parking lot, glancing over his shoulder at the sinister black vehicle that pulled up behind them. It stayed behind him for a short ways, growling quietly to itself. Suddenly the conni roared forward, levitating over the wet road. A short blast of blue flame shot from the tail pipe, and the vehicle was gone.

"I don't know if I like the way that man drives," commented Atterick.

The black conni was waiting for them outside their house when they pulled up. The four got out of the vehicle when they saw Atterick arrive, crossing the street to the moderately sized house. Mars said something, and Raski laughed, a demented sound that made Teirra cold. They were just walking in the door when Amber pulled up, having left Taischa at Saunki's house. Luka put some music on, and within a few minutes the group were talking and playing together as though they had known each other for years.

***---***

Click here to go to part two

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw