Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 12:43:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: Wishus Teglin
Subject: Why Not Me, Chapter 4 (M/b)
Chapter Four
by Teglin and Ty
Special Note: Thanks to Ty for the essential idea that made this chapter
work. Thanks to Michael for all his suggestions.
FOREWORD:
Dedicated to the boy who sat apart, ignored by all the men, as they
lavished attention and praise on his prettier friend. I've always
wondered how he felt, and if I would have done the right thing, had I
been there.
Copyright 2001 by Teglin. You may freely copy this boylove romance
and distribute it. Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way.
WARNING:
This boylove romance contains descriptions of sexual acts between
men and minor boys. If such a story is illegal where you are, or for
your age, or the concept of a man/boy relationship offends you, don't
read further.
Chapter Four
"Node down!" Trav ordered, even as he watched the door to his room
slide shut.
The nurse who usually attended him hadn't been by all morning, and
suddenly some guy in a white orderly outfit had just taken all of Trav's
stuff out on a cart. And the guy wouldn't talk. What was that about?
His eyes darted around, as the noodle node that Kallen had wrangled
for him here in his clinic room slowly lowered itself. He positioned his
head, so that it could settle in and let the node slip forward. He was
online in an instant.
Before his first day was out on Olympus, he had cracked the clinic
access codes, and installed Tommy from node memory - well, just part
of Tommy. Enough to help him navigate, cross system boundaries, and
manage the node database. So he already knew where his file was.
"Tommy, bring up the daily log," he said.
He jumped quickly to the bottom of the file, to see the latest entries.
Thirty Day Review staffing completed. Patient dismissed to permanent
residency ward.
File Closed.
:What the ...," he mused. The doctors had done some tests on him a
couple of days ago. Kallen said that CPS was going to get the best
doctors in here to do an operation or something, and Trav had thought
... but now, the file said he was being dismissed ....
"But Kallen said ... he told me ... Tommy, we gotta mail Kallen, and
figure out what's going on he ...."
Trav suddenly felt like ... he wanted to jump up out of this bed, and ...
just like he had felt that first day, when they had to say goodbye, and he
saw Kallen standing there, in the other room, straining for just one last
glance, as the door shut ... and the orderlies just babbling on about ...
something that had happened that day ... about something totally ...
stupid ... and he was seeing Kall for the last time, and he just wanted to
scream, and jump up out of the wheelchair, and ... but then the door
had shut, and ....
"Oh Kallen, I don't know what they're going to ...," the little boy felt
himself about to cry. He was struggling to keep his lips from trembling,
even though no one was there to see it. He just didn't want to panic,
but ... "Tom ... Tommy, let's ... send off a mail to Ka ...."
"Rise and shine, buddy!" a loud voice - and the banging of the door
against the wall, as it was forcibly thrown open - the sound of
squeaking wheels ....
Silently, Trav signaled with a motion of his head that Tommy was to
retract the node. He looked out from underneath the hood, as it started
to slip off, and saw that another orderly had invaded his room now - the
first one following along, pushing the a bed through the door.
Clap!
The loud guy looked so ... fake ... as he clapped his hands together,
acting so cheerful. Trav had seen it all before, back on Portal. The false
pretenses, overly cheerful nurses, no one ever telling him the truth.
"You get to see a little more of this place than this one little room ... ah
... Trevor," the man blared it out, taking a quick glance at the status
monitor at the foot of Trav's bed.
"I ... I d-do? Where am I ...?" Trav started to stutter out the question,
and lost his breath, his chin shuddering involuntarily.
"Yeah, we're just going to line this rollaway up with your bed, and
we'll be off for the races in no time. Ok?" the man continued, not even
listening to Trav, as he pulled the bed on in parallel with Trav's.
"But I ... need to ... mail Ka ...."
"You'll have plenty of time for that later, kid. It's almost lunchtime,
and I want to get you over to the ward. Let's go."
"But ... but I need my n-node, and ...."
"I don't know anything about your node, kid," the man was sounding
less and less cheerful all the time. "We just got orders to roll you over
to the residency hall, so guess what? That's what we're going to do.
Josen, on the count of one, ...."
------------------------
Kallen slammed the noodlenode down onto the floor and kicked it
viciously across the floor. A strangled moan welled up from his throat.
He balled his fist and raised it, looking around wildly, wanting to strike
out at something. Anything! The rigging he had set up, to lower the
noodle node down onto Trav's head caught his eye, and he stood
transfixed for half a second, eyes narrowing in anger. Suddenly he
lashed out with both hands, pulling at the harness, jerking plugs from
the wall, ripping away this reminder of his futile attempt to make a
home for ...
His boy.
HIS BOY! Dammit!
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he wailed out, lashing the node
harness down upon his bed over and over and over.
He froze, his arm raised to slice down again, his other fist clutching the
sheet and mattress together, his fingers prizing them up as if he would
rip them apart too. They couldn't do this! He screamed it to himself,
silently. His eyes narrowed even more, reflecting the suddenly steel-
hard determination that was growing within him.
Trav WAS his boy. HE was Trav's man. They would not be apart any
longer. No one and nothing, in all the known universe would keep
them apart ... ANY LONGER!
He lowered the node lashings down onto the bed, and dispassionately,
coldly observed to himself, `hunhh, how stupid of me. Trav's going to
need this again, just as soon as he's back onboa ....
A thought stillborn. Because as soon as it entered his consciousness,
even before fully thought out, he knew with absolute certainty that it
couldn't, wouldn't happen that way. He couldn't go back to Olympus
in Ganymede. For that matter, he wasn't willing to wait the ten days it
would take to slow and turn the point-to-point cargo ship from it's
course. Ganymede could jump with the best of them, but maneuver it
could not.
At any rate, he didn't want anyone to know about a course change.
Calmly now, letting all the possibilities start to rummage around inside
his brain .... Sifting. Winnowing. Till the obvious finally became
apparent - Trav would never come onboard this ship again. He might
need a node harness again, but not this one. He dropped the harness,
and strode over to his control panel.
The CPS letter was still onscreen. He read it again, almost absently, still
thinking over the possibilities.
... adoption application denied upon the following grounds:
1. Adoptee Trevor Seaman (654-44-545 Portal) requires
intensive round-the-clock care. Applicant is employed full-
time as an itinerant pilot and incapable of providing the kind of
attention to adoptee that CPS deems necessary for the child's
welfare.
2. Review of applicant's financial statement indicates heavy
debt and incapacity to meet the high costs of care for the
adoptee, given adoptee's permanent disability (see addendum,
Thirty Day Review).
3. Applicant's right to appeal voided per Disability Rights
statute ....
"What do those bastards know about the shipping business!? Of
course there's heavy debt. Or the appearance of it. On the other hand,
look at the assets!" Kallen grumbled out loud, staring at the screen, his
eyes wide open and scanning the words over and over.
"`... requires intensive round-the-clock care ...,' yeah, well I showed
them that I understood that, dammit."
"'... employed full-time as an itinerant pi ...," I own my own ship,
idiots!"
"'... adoptee's permanent disability ... Thirty Day Review ...," so what,
we know all about his condition, and we can deal with it. They said
medical treatment was possible, anyw ...."
Kallen's hand stabbed at the screen, pointing at that addendum, and it
painted onscreen. He leaned in, eyes narrowing immediately as he read
the words.
"I can't believe th ...," he muttered, then continued reading, his mouth
open in astonishment.
"The bastards have given up on him ...
`corrective procedures, deemed to have less than 60% chance
of success upon review by the in-staff medical board, do not
meet the criteria set forth in statute ... subject not a candidate
for referral to surgical review board ... deemed unsuitable for
the Paceta Transform... subject's permanency plan will be
amended to level 6 residency, assigned to non-rehabilitative
reduced care ....'
Subject does not ... Subject is not ... Subject cannot ...!
Trembling, feeling a white hot fury building with him, Kallen pushed
himself back from the desk slowly, his hands gripping the edge as if he
wanted to rip a chunk from it. For a moment, he didn't know if he was
more angry at the bureacrats ... or himself. He sat there in his chair,
staring sightlessly at the screen still, his face pinched, eyes narrowed to
mere slits, mouth pressed tightly, breathing in deep, loud draughts
through his nose, feeling himself growing dizzy with outrage.
So they had transported Trav across space, only to have a group of
incompetent government hacks decide that he was untreatable! Then
they relegated him to some ward where he'd be checked on once a day,
to see if he were still breathing?!
`And I left him there ....' Kallen closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.
He loosened his grip upon the edge of the desk, but kept his arms stiff,
leaning in now just to support himself. He felt lightheaded, helpless ...
hopeless ... and at the very moment he needed to think most clearly.
They had assured him over and over that Trav was going to get the best
of care, that while the review process was underway, and the evaluation
of the adoption application, Trav was going to be examined by
specialists. He would have full access to all the online resources of the
facility. Kallen was even allowed to set up the noodle node and
harness, so Trav could lower it whenever he wanted.
With a flash, he opened his eyes again, and searched back on screen to
the first page of the letter. Damn! Dated ... four days ago ... Trav ... oh
my god, where the hell had they put him! It was exactly four days
since the last letter the boy had sent. And none of Kallen's letters had
been opened.
-------------------------
"No telling what day it is, now," Trav mumbled outloud, looking up
into the soft white, sourceless light of the ceiling. No day. No night.
"No windows," he said out loud again.
Like the randomness of the thoughts that had started to flit through his
brain, he realized that he had started thinking out loud at times, carrying
on a sometimes voiceless, yet sometimes spoken talk with himself.
He hoped it wasn't a sign of ... going nuts, or something.
It was something to think about though. Something. Anything ...
anything, to keep from panicking, to keep from thinking about being
left here like this, to avoid thinking about ....
No ... calm down now. "No use ... thinking like that." This was just
temporary, surely. They stopped by every once in a while, to check on
him. To check on all the patients. They - well, that one guy, the
orderly.
Why did it stink so bad in here? Some of those other patients looked
like they hadn't been bathed in months ....
NO! Not months. Probably just a ... slack time.
And the voices ... those others, on the other beds, some of them talking
to ... themselves ....
"Now what can I think about?" he opened his eyes wide, and looked
sheepishly from side to side at the occupants of the beds on either side
of him, embarrassed that they might be listening ... but no, they weren't
... they were ... sleeping? One with straps on his arms ....
"Oh God!" he jerked his gaze back, and stared back up at the ceiling.
"Now ... now, where does that light come from? It's all over the ...."
He took a deep breath then, letting it out slow, to calm himself, knowing
this wasn't going to work. No matter what he tried, he couldn't keep
his mind off the facts!
They had moved him here ... days ago ... maybe four, five ... he didn't
know - he had eaten ... several times - tasteless gruel from a tube ...
water from a tube too ... he'd slept off and on ... sometimes they
dimmed the lights ... there didn't seem to be any pattern to it. Oh god,
he wished he could have slept more! Just laying here, looking at the
ceiling, or the other beds, or listening to the other voices, or ....
Stop that now! No panicking.
Trouble was, if he stopped trying to think, he started feeling the ... the
stuff on his bottom. They only washed him twice, since bringing him
here, and ... it was starting to hurt a bit, itching, stinking ... and oh god,
he couldn't move!
Kallen!! Please! Kallen, come get me, please! Take me out of here ....
He could do one thing ... he could let himself cry ....
The tears came now ... their wet trails finding the same paths down his
cheeks that his tears of just a while ago had ... but at least he had slept ...
after that ... after crying ... he had slept ... and he didn't have to think ....
--------------------------
Trav awoke to the sounds of the orderly, the next bed over, feeding that
other ... patient.
"This time I won't say anything!" Trav cautioned himself. I won't even
open my eyes ... no ... I better open my eyes, or he might go on by me
again.
Of all things, he would never make the mistake of complaining again.
The food ... the paste ... was ... sick. But it was better than nothing.
And he wanted water.
"Just don't make him mad again. Just be quiet this time. Eat it, drink,
and be quiet. Don't even ... don't even ... ask to be cleaned. Maybe he
will this time anyway, but if he doesn't ....
Fifteen. No, sixteen. It was fifteen last time. The time he got mad, and
said I could go without. Sixteen times he's been by. I think he comes
once a day. Oh god, I'm hungry. I've never been so hungry. Maybe
he comes by twice a day? So that would be 8 days?
I wonder if I could just ask ... if he'd roll me over. Onto my side, like
Kall used to do. The sores are starting to hurt a bit ....
---------------------
Trav felt like his mind was suddenly detached from his body. Floating
....
He could hear his own crying. How long had he been crying - seemed
like days - but the pain was just ... too much! He couldn't even turn his
head anymore. The pain would hit him like a knife stabbing into his
neck. The tears looked like that had etched his cheeks raw. Red
splotches, all wet, and crusted with little white ridges. Snot running
from his nose. Red there too. And sore. And his throat hurt so bad, he
could hardly swallow. Or breathe!
At least his body was numb. He didn't even feel it, last time the orderly
changed his diaper.
He wanted his mind to float away, to separate from his body. This was
no kind of existence for anybody.
-------------------------
His body was scrubbed clean. Even the bed sores. His sores, and his
throat painted with some kind of stinging antiseptic. The pain was gone
there. They had hooked him up to an intravenous drip for a while, then
removed that.
Just the 30 day review, the nurse had said. They would swing through
the ward every thirty days. Make sure he was getting his meals
properly. Make sure he was getting a bath as scheduled. Treat any of
those unavoidable conditions that invalids are susceptible too. Tighten
up his chart.
Yeah, that's what she had said. Sounding so satisfied with herself.
They would tighten up his chart.
The orderly was there too. Saying `yes ma'am, no ma'am,' to
whatever the nurse said. He looked dull as ever.
Trav had decided that the man wasn't cruel, just incredibly, utterly
dumb.
So.
He was refreshed. All the patients were refreshed. Cleaned. Sheets all
cleaned. They even fixed the TV, hanging up there where everyone
could just barely see it ....
Ready for ... another thirty days ... or ... whatever the allotted span was
for ... a boy ... all alone ....
He could make it another thirty days. He just knew he could, till ....
There she was again, walking so fast, like she was leaving!
"Ma'am!" Trav called out. Surprised how high, and screechy his voice
sounded.
She stopped, and glanced at his terminal. "Yes ... Trevor, what is it?"
"Wh ... when do I find out about the adoption?" he managed to squeak
out, his voice unused to calling out so loud. But she had to hear him.
He had to know something!
"What adoption?" she said, sharply, looking down the ward. Looking
like she was in a hurry to get out of here.
Trav held back his panic, again. Of course she might not know. She
was just a nurse. "The man who brought me here. He wants to adopt
me, and ...."
"Uh ... Trevor ... I don't know anything about that, but ... look here,"
she said impatiently, ramming her index finger at the monitor at the foot
of Trav's bed. "Your file ... well, I can't get to your other records, but
your chart clearly says you're in permanent residence. I ... uh ... I tell
you what, I'll make a note to check on that, and uh ... I'll get word to
you tomorrow. Now be a good boy."
And with that, she was gone.
Trav watched as she walked hurriedly off down the mid-aisle of the
ward, until she was beyond his arc of vision.
Just one day, and he'd find out something. Not thirty days. One day.
Oh please, Kallen. I need to know.
-------------------------
On the tenth day, Trav cried. Not for the sores. Not because of the
food, or the silence, or the sheer excruciating pain of just laying there
second after second, minute after minute, knowing that if he could
count that far, he would just have to count some more ... and some
more ....
No. This time he cried because he knew the nurse wasn't coming back.
He knew the orderly couldn't tell him anything, because the orderly
didn't know anything.
He cried, because for the first time, he let himself think about what it
was going to be like if Kallen never came back.
He cried, because for the first time, he allowed himself to think about
what Kallen's life was going to be like, without his Little Traveler.
He cried ... because for the first time, he wondered, what would it be
like, if he just refused to eat that gruel that the orderly kept bringing by
for him ....
He cried ....
---------------------------
>From the void of hyperspace jump to the void of deep space, there was
little to judge the difference. Distant pin-point flicks, where stars added
their infinitesimal glow to real space - or the ethereal glow of ion trails,
seemingly also distant, in hyper-space. Little to show the difference,
until Kallen nosed the lander to port, and suddenly the white, cloud
shrouded orb of Olympus swung into view.
Just as quickly, he felt the buffeting start. His hyper jump was perfect,
bringing the ship to the very verge of the Olympian exosphere. The
ship plunged downward at a meteoric rate - again, exactly what he
wanted. It wouldn't do to be tracked.
The trick was to pull up, skip, then plunge again - at least that was what
Merced had taught him when Kallen made the final payment for the old
military lander. It was the only way to elude planetary tracking for
long. Skip, explode, then plunge. Skip into the stratosphere like a
wayward meteorite, explode into a fiery cataclysm, then plunge under
power straight at the CPS compound.
It was all programmed. Kallen had little to do but ride it out. Leave it
up to Tommy, and ride it out.
And worry.
Now was the time they would all discover if the price of Ganymede had
bought Little Traveler's future. Huge, lumbering, life-supporting
Ganymede, for this relatively tiny assault craft
Olympian Defense would figure it out, soon enough. So there was no
time to lose, on the ground. He had to find Trav, get him out to the
lander, strap him in, and head straight out. All before the authorities
closed in.
He just prayed that Tommy was still online down there. Which was if-
fy. No word from Trav in forty-six days, which either meant he had
lost his noodlenode. Or that security had discovered the Trojan. Kallen
figured that the worst case had happened, and Trav had been cut off
totally, physically, from Tommy. Not that Tommy had been
discovered. His module was just too small.
Searing sprays of flame streaked continuously by Kallen's viewport.
He steeled himself, gripping the cushioned arm rests, and pushing his
head back forcefully into the enveloping landing shell. Every jolt from
the ship's fiery passage was muffled, but he felt each one nevertheless.
And felt like his ship was out of control.
Then the explosion! All show, that was, but not the immediate banking
turn, and the g-strain! Leaving all the pyrotechnics behind as the ship
braked, still plummeting, but falling below that scorching, hurtling
speed that had literally flaked chunks off the nose cone.
He felt the skin and flesh of his face settling back. With a tentative test
of his own strength, he lifted a finger. Then a hand.
Not yet!
He waited, watching out his port, as the darkened surface of the planet
grew closer and closer. Lights beckoned everywhere, but he ignored
them. It was all programmed. This ship was the finest piece of military
hardware available on the market today - designed for just this kind of
operation. Kallen had every reason to believe that it would settle him
down with inches of the targeted location.
He felt the brakes again, heavier this time, more forceful. The ship was
slowing perceptibly, the ground was looming. Suddenly - the final
hammer blow back into his seat, as the ship righted itself, leveling off
for the landing.
He lifted his hand again. The very force of gravity yielded to his will
easily, this time ... and he knew it was indeed ... the time.
Time to get Little Traveler.
He pressed the release button beneath his right index finger, and the
restraints burst free. He lunged out of the chair, and bounded forward
through the empty cargo hold, where a whole platoon of marines would
have been waiting to jump out of the ship on a different kind of
operation. This time, it was just him. And Tommy.
He flung open the cabinet next to the exit hatch, and pulled out
Tommy. Just enough of Tommy in the little portable to handshake with
the Trojan in the CPS network. Enough of Tommy to map out a route
to Trav.
The ship settled down onto the ground with a slight jolt, and the light
over the exit hatch went green. Kallen slapped the door panel, and the
hatched swept up smoothly and silently.
Just like the landing engines. This ship ran silent within a 1000 meters
of the surface. It was like the hatch opened to the dead of night - no
sound beyond the quiet hiss of the down-revving engines.
Kallen stepped down and out, bending his knees to cushion the always
awkward transition to terra firma. He looked around, and confirmed the
accuracy of the landing. There on the left, was the compound wall,
hiding the grounds from the outside world. A few trees, the wide lawn -
Kallen felt his throat constricting, wondering if Trav had been wheeled
across this very lawn just that day. Straight ahead, the side entrance to
the residency wards. Trav was in there somewhere!
Fighting back the rising surge of emotion, Kallen bit down hard upon
his lower lip and narrowed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. He
didn't know how they had been treating the little guy, but it was
obvious Trav had not been allowed to contact anyone for the longest
time now. Every day, Kallen had worried over how Trav must feel.
Isolated? Abandoned? One thing for sure - he knew his boy hadn't
forgotten. Trav was waiting for his man in there. Waiting right now.
Adrenaline poured into Kallen's system. He started running, not even
bothering to look back to check his craft. It would seal up for him,
awaiting his return. Awaiting THEIR return!
The universal data coupler wasn't called universal for nothing. It was
installed just where it should be, to the right of the door. He already
had Tommy's plug out, and ready to connect, by the time he stopped
within reach.
With the socket latched, he opened the portable. "Tommy. Protocol."
"Searching." The word appeared on the screen even as Tommy said it.
"Module found. Upload complete." Kallen didn't even have enough
time to feel nervous about it. The Tommy Trojan was alive and well!
"Tommy! Map a route from this door to Trav."
----------------------
Left side, eighth bed down the row. One. Two. The beds all looked
the same in the night-vision glow. Kallen took the aisleway in huge
strides, but still trying to cushion his footfall. Nevertheless, more than
one pair of eyes looked up at him. Glaring eyes, wide with ... fear?
Wonder ....
Five. Six. Seven ...
Kallen took it all in in an instant. Trav's long, almost empty bed. His
small - his oh so small form! Occupying such a small part of the bed!
Laying motionless on his back. Not even a sheet to cover his spindly
little legs. His head back flat upon the mattress. A pillow drawn or
pushed to the side, poised to fall off onto the floor. Eyes closed..
Sunken eyes. Arms resting by his side, legs outstretched. Stains on the
sheet. Reddish, brownish-red spots, just beneath his boy's form ....
Kallen felt suddenly weak. He grasped the railing at the foot of the bed
next closest to Trav's, and stopped, desperately trying to gasp in
enough air to keep from fainting.
What had they done to his boy!? What had HE done to his boy!?
Those stains he knew too well. Bed sores. And the brown filth seeped,
and dried - spilt from the boy's diaper.
Flesh that looked blue and cold through the night-vision visor. Legs
that had not felt a loving, warming caress in ... how many days!?
Something here about the other patients .........
It was but an instant, in which Kallen stood there, gathering his
strength, yet it was a lifetime's resolve. `Till death do us part, Little
Traveler,' the man promised. `Never, ever, ever again ....'
Kallen flipped up the visor and stepped quickly up to Trav's bedside.
No time to think now. No time for regrets OR resolves! Just get Trav
out of here!
He jerked the sheet from the foot of the mattress , then reached up to
do the same for the head corners. Hastily he flung the flimsy fabric
over Trav's legs and his body - small substitute for what he wanted to
do - he needed to stretch his own body next to his boy's, and let his
own warmth bring back life to the little Trav's frame - but no time!
He dared to take just an instant to look at his boy's visage - still the
same unkempt, uncombed curls. Still those too large ears, the pixie
nose, the two front teeth that protruded, parting his lips, still the ... still
the timeless beauty that no artist could ever hope to match, on any
palate. Still the boy he loved.
Kallen lowered his right cheek to Trav's, and felt the coldness of the
boy's flesh, and then the heat of his breath!! He was sleeping, or ... just
resting his eyes ... or ... again Kallen struggled to breathe, himself,
fearing to even think the possibility.
"Trav ...." he whispered, placing his lips right up against the boy's ear.
"Little ... Traveler! Please ... wake for me, Dearest One ...." Kallen
lifted his head a bit, to look into his boy's eyes, praying to see those
delicate lids flutter, then open.
No movement. Only the slow breathing. Life, yes! But ....
"Trav! ... Sweety!" Kallen lowered his lips to the boy's ear again,
whispering louder, trying not to let his own heart leap up into his throat.
"Oh ... god ... Trav, I'm here now. I'm ... we're ... please, honey, wake
up fo ...."
Forcing back his tears, Kallen rose, still peering into Trav's face, daring
to hope for some sign that the boy was conscious, that he hadn't fallen
into some kind of coma.
But he knew he couldn't stand here like this, for his own desire, just to
see Trav open those eyes, to see his smile as joined again ... he had to
go ... or they would not be able to be together at all! Quickly, he
lowered his lips to Trav's face and kissed his cheeks, his nose, his eyes,
forehead, lips. "My darling boy! Whether you can hear me or not,
I'm here. I'm going to take you away from here. And we're never
going to be apart again!"
He slid his left arm underneath Trav's head and shoulder, and then
crossed his right over the boy's body, and underneath his bottom, and
lifted his feather-light form and clasped it to his own. Reaching up,
straining with the fingers of his left hand, he lowered his visor again,
and turned to retrace their steps.
He heard voices behind him, but didn't bother to turn. Whether the
other patients, or someone come to stop them, it didn't matter. Tommy
would block the doors and darken the passageways. If they got too
close, he would pull out his gun. He had his boy, and no one or
nothing in the universe was going to stop them now.
----------------------
Trav didn't want to open his eyes. For once - for the first time in a
long, long time - he felt good.
`Don't let it all in,' he thought lazily, dreamily. `Just for a moment, let
me feel ... good ... before ... NO! Don't think about it ... just try to
remember the dream. Kallen kissed me. I felt his lips ... and his cheek,
against mine. He said something ... I know he did, but ... I can never
remember my dreams - just let me go on remembering this one forever
....'
He was laying on his side.
Now he knew it was all a dream - the orderly never rolled him over,
even if he begged. The sores on his back and bottom ... and all down
his legs ... felt so different, like ... the way Kallen used to do - he'd wash
them gently, then put some lotion on, so they could heal. `Then he'd
roll me over on my side, so they could air out. That's what he used to
say. He wanted them to air out'
Trav felt himself smiling. What a wonderful dream he had had ... was
having! Wasn't this all a dre ... oh! Don't tell me it's already been
thirty days! Obviously. The nurse came by, cleaned my sores, and
turned me on my side ...
So how long then? Sixty days? Sixty long, excruciating days of agony.
But ... that meant he had been out of it for - how many days?
`Probably ... I should be glad that I slept that long ... if this isn't a dream
....'
Something was laying on him. On his legs! He felt the pressure of -
like a strap, pulling his legs down onto the ... and another, around his
waist ... holding him down tight. What were they going to do ... to him?
He started to feel a panicky bile rise into his throat, and he wanted to
scream out ... and just as suddenly, he felt like laughing, hysterically -
the idiots! Why did he need straps! He couldn't even move! Was the
orderly so utterly stupid that he didn't know that!? What were they
thinking of doin ...."
`Calm down, dummy. This is just a dream. You're still in a dream.
Just calm down and ... try to remember Kallen, the way he touched me,
and he said something ...
No. There was a real ... voice ....
Someone talking loudly, someone ... quiet! Listen!
"... pointed out to you earlier, Mr. Hunter-Green, I'm quite a wealthy
man. On occasion I take on a case like this for ... well, because I find
sssssssstsstssssit ...."
A stream of static suddenly drowned the voice out, then it resumed.
"...way you broke in to our database is quite ... intriguing. I actually
admire you in that. You tell my people how you planted the boy's
record there - and why you would go through that kind of subterfuge.
Bring your ah ... son ... on down here, and I will examine him
immediately."
There was a pause. Then another voice, sounding very ... subdued, or
emotional ... "I ... I can't thank you enough ... ever ... Doctor ...."
Trav felt himself going dizzy. His head spinning. He wanted to open
his eyes now, but somehow couldn't! The voice was Kallen's! It was
as if the days and months were somehow forgotten, sloughed away,
and he felt like ... if he could just strain hard enough - fling his arms
wide and hard enough - he could break these straps, break out of the
paralysis, and jump out of this bed and run to ....
Kallen! He tried to scream it out, tried to force his lips to part. To force
his jaw to open. To force his tongue to cooperate! Kall!
He wanted to scream it!! But nothing would come! `Oh my god, it is a
dream!!! A terrible, cruel, ugly dream!'
It was like he was suddenly watching himself, observing his own agony,
listening for the tiniest peep of a sound from his own throat. He wanted
to call out his man's name!
"Kaaaaa-a-a-a!" he heard a rattle. A weak, rasping, sandpapery noise.
He felt air from his lungs, trying to push up through his larynx, trying to
make it work!
"Kaaaaallllll!" Louder! Clearer! The rattle turning to a screech, taking
on some semblance of human sound. Not the mindless mewling of an
invalid. Not the agonized moan of what was once a boy, laying for day
after day after mind-numbing day in loneliness and despair. Force it
out! `Oh Kallen. This can't be a dream! Please, don't let this be a
dream!'
"Kaaaallennnnnn!" Trav yelled it out, screaming it, crying it. Even if
only the orderly heard it, or the other mind-numbed patients in their
beds, just for once he wanted to call out to ...."
"Trav!" he heard Kallen's voice answer! And a shifting chair, and
heavy steps upon the floor!
It wasn't a dream! It couldn't be a dream! Dare he open his eyes!?
Or would that be the final crushing blow of his confinement, to know
that even his dreamtime had become a part of the insanity of his
existence?! That he was once a boy, who had the universe to dream
about, but that now he was a vegetable doomed to rot in a forgotten
corner of a darkened hospital ward, with nothing but cruel nightmares
to haunt his every ....
Trav flung his eyelids open, feeling the tears already streaming, seeing
unusual looming shapes and lights through the misty film. He blinked,
and saw one shape fast approaching, rising up above him.
Then their voices merged.
"Kallen!?" The little boy's rusty-hinged plea ....
"Trav!" the man's desperate answer ....
-----------------------
Kallen reached out, his hand shaking, to touch Trav's cheek, to smooth
away the tears that were falling there, even as he knelt down beside the
little boy's bed, bringing their eyes level.
Again their voices joined.
"It's you?! The little boy's plea ....
"It's me!" the man's firm reply.
"You ... came for me!"
"Yes, I did."
"Take me away from here!"
"It's done, sweetie. We're long gone from that place."
Kallen leaned in so that both his boy and himself could feel the reality
of the moment. He stroked Trav's cheek, and gazed into his glistening,
still tear-filled eyes.
"I'm so sorry, honey, for what you went through. I'll never let it
happen again. Now let me get you out of that bed and into my arms! I
want to hold you forever! We have so much to talk about!"
-------------------------------
After sitting for hours beside Trav's bed, in the recovery room, Kallen
answered the summons to come to Dr. Puceta's office, not knowing
how to feel. He had watched desperately for even a twitch - any sign at
all that Trav would be able to move now.
Waiting. Hoping. Wondering. His sole function, since landing the
ship within the doctor's own private compound. Trav had immediately
become Puceta's boy, in a sense. What could an erstwhile transport
pilot offer, when decisions had to be made about Trav's treatment, his
operation, his chances - his very life. Not even consent.
No, consent had to come from Trav himself. Trav wanted the
operation. He practically demanded it. And so it had been done.
Everyone knowing the odds.
Now this morning, the call: "Doctor Puceta requests that you come to
his office immediately."
The doctor was sitting at his desk. A big man. Fat. And happy.
Brilliant. And rich. Very, very wealthy, his compound more like a
resort - replete with his own harem of beautiful women - adjacent to his
own private research hospital. Renowned throughout Known Space.
Puceta looked up from his desk, and raised one brow, as if questioning
something. "Ah, yes. Mr. Hunter-Green. Please be seated," he waved
to a chair before his desk, his oddly quite delicate looking hand and
fingers looking so out of sorts with his bulk.
"Is there ... is there a problem with ...."
"Oh no! Your ... son is well on his way to recovery," Puceta said
expansively. Not bothering to give Kallen time to absorb that news, the
doctor continued, "I've called you here because of a ... complication ...
of a different sort. No. Your boy is going to do just fine. He'll be up
and walking in no time at all. Unfortunately we will be unable to
oversee his recuperation and therapy."
`Your boy is going to do just fine.' The words echoed in Kallen's
mind. He strained to listen, to hear - but those words! What else could
matter, but those words? The doctor said them so ... passionlessly! As
if it were a matter of course, that the operation should be successful.
But there were complications ... what was that about the recuperation?
Kallen gripped hard on the arm rests of his chair, and tried to focus.
"You won't ... there's a problem with ....?"
"I have just received this inquiry from ...," the doctor held up a printed
sheet, and glanced at it. "Apparently from the planet Olympus. The uh
... Planetary ...." He waved the sheet dismissively, and handed it across
his desk to Kallen. "Well, you may read it yourself."
Kallen bent to scan the document, while Doctor Puceta kept talking.
"Seems the authorities have finally tracked you here. I'm surprised it
took them so long, given Trevor's
condition. Be that as it may, we have a problem."
Kallen looked up into the big man's eyes, wondering what the doctor's
problem could be. He certainly understood his own, and Trav's.
Furiously he churned the possibilities over in his mind - was Trav well
enough to travel? Would the doctor attempt to ....
"WE have a problem, Mr. Hunter-Green. I say `we', because ... well,
because young Trevor and I have had some talks, and I of course have
examined him ... quite thoroughly, I might add." He eyed Kallen
meaningfully.
The pilot just sat silent, wondering, feeling his blood start to run cold.
How much had Trav told the man? Was it still obvious, from an
examination, that they had been having sex? Would the doctor have
seen that?
"I can't see ... the attraction ... that a grown man would have for a little
boy's body, sir," Puceta said, his eyebrows raised.
Oh no, Kallen thought. The possiblities were narrowing, perhaps. He
looked straight into the doctor's eyes, wondering if he were going to
have to forcibly remove Trav from the clinic. If he had to, he would.
Or die trying.
"Be that as it may, I can very much see the attraction for this little boy!
He has the mind of a scientist, sir! His potential is ... unbounded. I
could take him under my wing, an ... no, no, calm down now and listen
to me," the doctor boomed out, as Kallen started to rise from his chair,
an alarmed scowl on his face.
"I said I had talked with Trevor. I know all about what you mean to
him, sir. I also know what he means to you. I do not intend to see the
two of you separated. Thus our problem!"
Kallen slowly sat back into his chair, stunned, but suddenly realizing
that with this man's help, they might just be able to pull it off,
somehow. "Ahh, Doctor. Is Trevor ... able to ... for me to take him
back on board ... so ...."
"Able, yes. Under the proper conditions. Which cannot be met on that
... well, you know something, Mr. Hunter-Green?"
"What is that, Doctor?"
"I've always wanted to own a yacht. Now, in your professional
opinion, could a fleet lander, such as the one you have parked on my
lawn out there, be converted to serve me ... ah, in the style I am
accustomed to?
"Yes, I'm sure it could," Kallen answered impatiently, unsure where
this conversation was going? Puceta was beating around the bush. "It
has both deep-space and landing capabilities. Everything you would
need for a yacht, minus the luxuries."
"I can have it refurbished."
"I have no time for that. I ... if you're going to help me get Trav out of
here before they come for us, I need to get him on board NOW. And
out of here."
"As I said, that would be quite impossible on that ship of yours, sir.
The clinic does however have at it's disposal, a hospital scow. Also
capable of deep-space travel and planetary landings. What I am
proposing is an exchange, or sorts You and that dear boy get transport
off of this planet, to whatever destination you require. I get my new
interplanetary yacht!" Puceta literally clapped his hands together, like a
little boy with a new toy in sight. To him, all this was just a game.
Saving a boy's life - apparently routine! Thwarting the authorities -
doable, without like consequences.
Kallen sat stone-faced, trying to digest the doctor's proposal. On the
one hand, it bought them more time. Time they would need for Trav to
recover, and time to disappear for good. On the other hand, that
surplus lander was the sole asset left to them, after selling Ganymede.
He knew he had to accept the deal, and oddly enough he didn't even
feel upset that the doctor was making a financial killing. When it came
right down to it, he had offered to do the operation on Trav for nothing.
So ... now he got paid. And after all, what price wasn't justifiable for
Trav's life?
"Done, with one very important request, Doctor." Kallen said.
"And what is that?" Puceta looked somewhat taken aback.
"You saw Trav's ... well, you saw his back. His legs. The sores. How
thin he was. There are other patients there in that same institution. I
saved Trav, but ... there are others still there. You have influence. You
can ...."
"Say no more. It will be done.
And Kallen knew it would be. Simple as that. "Thank you," he said
solemnly, then he stood quickly, signaling how surely he was aware of
the time constraints. "Now sir, if you'll be so kind as to ...."
"Not so quickly now, Mr. Hun ... Kallen." Puceta said, as he levered his
own huge bulk up out of his chair reluctantly. He looked straight at the
pilot, as he shifted slowly around the end of his desk, and reached out
to grasp Kallen's arm. "We're going to need to discuss that little boy's
care, during this voyage of yours, and then there is the question of his
future. Boylover, huh?" He laughed, sounding very pleased with some
private joke of his own making. "Yes. Yes. I suspect you'll take quite
good care of ... how do you call him? The Little Traveler? Well, I do
know just the proper destination for the likes of you two. And we're
going to have to arrange a way to transfer the purchase price for my
new yacht to ...."
Kallen felt himself being guided from the office by the older man.
Listening, hearing ... believing ... stunned, but believing ... that THEY
were going to be alright now. Everything was going to be alright now.
------------------------------
Trav squeezed Kallen's hand, then released it and scampered off
towards the ebbing waves. He flailed his arms about, and danced just
behind the retreating whitecaps, prancing about on tiptoe. Then as the
ocean poised, gathering strength to come rushing back onshore, Trav
challenged it, naked and bared to all the elements, and stood bravely,
arms akimbo, chin out defiantly.
Kallen's eyes swept greedily up and down his boy's sun-drenched
figure - such perfect lines, subtle and fluid, smooth and sleek across his
narrow back, curving swiftly around his delicate shoulders, falling,
falling, swelling ever so slightly at the boy's waist, then gloriously full
now, where Trav's buttocks swelled - clenched, hiding that treasure
within. If he parted his slender legs ... if Kallen knelt there ....
Kallen looked down at the Trav's footprints, so perfectly formed in the
fine white sand, examining them, marveling at the motion captured
there. Each was like the a stamp of confirmation, that this boy was
animated by his own volition now.
He remembered that moment, when Trav awoke from the operation.
The little imp was smiling. Instantly. A sweet little smile, pulling his
lips up at their corners, as if to say that he would happily accept any
fate, so long as he could awake to see his man by his side. And he
giggled, and said, `Scratch my nose, Kall. It tickles."
"Scratch it yourself, sleepy-head. Do you think ... I ...," Kallen had
wanted to joke about it, he tried to keep his smile too, but knew he was
going to cry instead. His lips already trembling, fighting back the tears,
he choked out, "you think ... I'm 'm going to serve you hand and foot
... from now on?"
"You ... mean ...?" Trav breathed in, in a gasp, and without even
consciously directing it, his hand lifted from Kallen's. He stared at it,
blankly at first, wide-eyed. Then he turned it palm up, and flexed his
little fingers out straight, examining them like he had never seen them
before.
They had both cried then. But no more!
No longer did Kallen have to guide Trav's hands, no longer would he
have to place the boy's feet, and push them forward to mark each step.
Now, wheresoever the Little Traveler decided to implant his footprint,
the universe would bend and shape to HIS will!
And where would that will direct him?
Kallen looked up again, at his boy. He saw that the ocean was surging,
was rushing back in, rolling, threatening. Trav held his little body
stalwart, as if daring Nature herself, to test his newfound powers. At
the very last moment, before he would be drowned in the breaker, he
laughed joyously, bounced backwards with a twirl and a hop, and
skipped off ahead of the inrushing, white-flecked tongues of warm
water.
Kallen was aroused already, his penis lifting, lengthening - magically
swelling and hardening - his manhood awakened by the boy now
running back to him. Answering his question. For it was Trav's will to
run to his man's arms.
The pilot's eyes centered on Trav's own penis. It was cold-hard, spray-
flecked from his race with the waves, sticking out stiffly, it's bluish-
tinted helmet pointing his way, bobbing merrily with each bound and
leap.
Trav ran right up to Kallen, and smashed his lithe form into the man's,
wrapping his arms around Kallen's waist, and laying his head directly
against the man's stomach. Kallen had just enough time to ruffle the
curls upon Trav's head, before the boy pushed himself back and looked
down at the eight-inch tool now resting it's hooded head against his
own stomach.
"Hmmh, you're ready for something!" Trav said, smirking, as he pulled
his eyes away from the man's penis and looked up into Kallen's eyes
mischievously. Then he furtively looked down the beach each way,
then gazed back up at Kallen with raised brow, and asked simply,
"Here?"
Kallen pursed his lips, in surprise, and raised his own brows. "Uh ...
yeaaaahhhh ...," he answered, taking his own glance up and down the
beach.
The nearest couple was too far away to even distinguish their faces.
Another man, and his boy. Besides, they appeared to be pretty much
wrapped up in themselves too. Everyone here came for the same
reason, anyway - not to be seen or watched, but to just ... be ... to be
themselves, alone, with their lovers. Free! In a place where no one
would question, where everyone would understand.
"Yes, Trav. Here ...," Kallen managed to say, coarsely, feeling his
desire for the boy rising within him.
"I should still be slick ... in there. From this morning," Trav suggested
tentatively, his voice also subdued now. His exuberance giving way to
the tenseness of expectation that he always felt, when he knew Kallen
was going to take him. That he would soon feel Kallen inside him.
Stretching him, filling him! He looked up now with doe-like eyes,
questioning, beseeching.
Kallen leaned over his boy, and gently grasped him, his right hand
seeking beneath Trav's bottom, the left arm around his shoulders. He
lifted Trav. The boy raised his legs, so he could straddle Kallen's waist,
opening himself wide, baring himself completely to Kallen's searching
fingers. He wrapped his arms around Kallen's neck.
Kallen slid his fingers down Trav's butt crack, feeling the wetness, the
ooze - no product of the ocean spray, this time, but a remembrance of
their union just this morning. Kallen's seed, seeping from within Trav's
bowels - now ready to help them join again.
He inserted his middle finger, pressing in and up, testing the anal
opening. Trav moaned, and Kallen leaned in again to cover his boy's
lips with his own. The moan went on, entering the man's lungs as they
kissed.
Trav drew back, his eyes now closed, then forward again to press his
cheek against Kallen's. "Now," he whispered into the man's ear. Then
he waited, tensely. Waiting. It was ever like this - Trav unconsiously
holding his breath. Wanting to feel Kallen's entry, yet somehow at the
same time almost dreading it.
Kallen slid his left hand all the way down Trav's back, till he could cup
the boy's bottom, freeing his right to reach for his own penis, and guide
it up and into his boy. He lodged his glans right up into the waiting,
barely opened funnel leading up into Trav's body, and pressed upwards
with his pelvis, just slightly.
"Oohhuuunnnnhhh," Trav moaned. Kallen felt all resistance
weakening, as the boy consciously relaxed. They were practiced in this
now. Each knew what the other wanted, and how and when to make it
happen. Trav was already loosened, so it was much easier than this
morning.
Kallen plunged up again. Trav felt all the signals - the sudden tightness
of the man's stomach, the fingers gripping beneath his buttocks. He
willed himself to open, to loosen, and almost shrieked out his joy as he
felt the bulbous head of Kallen's dick slipping fully up inside him,
stretching his anal ring far beyond what he could do himself, "You're ...
in me ... Kall!"
"Yes ... dearest," Kallen panted. "I'm ... in YOU ...," he grunted, as he
pushed even harder and felt his shaft sliding relentlessly deeper and
deeper.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh ..." Trav almost wailed, following the slide of Kallen's
penis up into his body. "uhhhhhhhhhh fuck me!" he sighed, settling
his body down forcibly onto his man's burgeoning tool.
"Oh Trav! You're so ... incredibly hot inside ... and ... beautiful!"
Kallen spoke tenderly into Trav's ear, then nuzzled down, kissing along
his neck and to his shoulder. "I .... love you!" he said, in time with his
first stroke out, then back in, working his pelvis. Then out again, and in,
sliding his cock along the cum-slickened canal of Trav's rectum, feeling
his dick head lunging into the softly resisting flesh within his boy's
body.
Crazed with the feelings that were shooting into his own body, from
within Trav's, he started to circle around in the sand, working to keep
pumping his manhood in and out of Trav's bottom, trying hard to
stroke the boy's prostate.
The breakers ebbed, and came crashing back in time and again, at first
just washing up around Kallen's feet. Still the man fucked up into his
boy. The waves reached higher and higher, even as Trav begged Kallen
to push in higher, and harder.
"I gotta ... lay down, honey ...," Kallen finally pleaded into Trav's ear,
pausing, letting his cock rest still for a moment, fully encased within
Trav. He felt exhausted, and now giddy with the sensations, feeling the
boy's wanton constrictions, still massaging his man's dick lasciviously.
The next breaker smashed into Kallen's calves, and he staggered up the
beach, holding Trav tight to him, keeping his penis fully lodged inside
his lover's very bowels.
"I gotta lay ... down ... if we're going to ...."
"Ok, Kall. I want to ride you now! I want to fuck you ... this time!"
"Sure, Trav," Kallen laughed, though he was a bit surprised. "But are
you sure ... you have the strength now?" he let himself fall to his knees
and carefully lay back, pulling Trav over with him, keeping him
impaled.
"Yeah, Kall, I think I can do it now. If I can ... do this, then I can do
anything, can't I?"
"I think you can, sweetie."
"Kall, do you think I could be a pilot someday? Or a ... maybe a
surgeon?"
The incongruity of the question, coming while they were in the very
throes of making love, make Kallen laugh even louder.
"Yeah-h-h-h-h, Little Trav. You of all people, with what you've been
through, what you've done? If not you, who? Of all the people who
would endure any hardship, and who are smart enough to do anything
they set their mind to, why not you?
Trav straddled his man, slowly circling his bottom unconsciously upon
Kallen upthrust dick, lost now in thought, in dreams - feeling his own
power growing within himself.
"Yeah, Kall," he answered wonderingly. He propped himself with his
palms upon Kallen's chest, and then looked straight into his lover's
eyes. With a little twist of his head, eyes wide with sudden
understanding, he proclaimed, "I think you're right. Why not me!?"
The End