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(Solace: Tactical command leader of Cresh's Shadows)

I watched him drop into sleep in the span of a second and slowly slide down until he lay on the bed.  It was wholly unexpected, but it did give me time to think and I desperately needed to.

The fear I had been harboring since I had been captured had only increased when I awoke in this strange room, wearing someone else's clothes but still covered in filth.  It was gone now.  Vanished the moment Tarkath had entered the room.  Well…not quite vanished, but so far removed from my mind that I didn't feel it except for a few twinges when I heard some sound from the outer room.

I let the peace I felt being with Tarkath, my other, wash over me.  He may not, almost certainly would not, feel as I do about being chosen with him for the summoning…but I was grateful. 

A small melancholy smile drifted over my face.  My closest friend in the Shadows had been chosen for a summoning…with a woman that made the ugliest of musk grec look heavenly.  I had had to suffer through a dozen nights of watching him drink himself under the table before he resigned himself to it.  He hadn’t seen what I did until much later, that they truly were matched in spirit if not in body.  Being with her other had made her beautiful…just as my friend being with her made him stronger.  

Briefly I wondered if I would ever see them again.

I was lucky in this at least.  My other was a very beautiful, powerful, charmingly naïve man, and if rumor were to be believed I could tack on deviously brilliant and kindhearted to a fault. 

He really was beautiful.  My kin had never understood what attracted me so to the Kreth and not to my own kind.  I guess I preferred their exotic looks, something about the accent that stressed every other word and added the strange twist to the r's. 

I already knew with painful intimacy, that I was more open-minded than was good for me.  If I weren't, I wouldn't be here now, because I wouldn't have dared attempt to stop my leader from blowing the Kreth evac shuttle.  It had held more children than soldiers…and enough lives were lost in this war that corners could be cut for innocents.

Sentimentality only got you jettisoned.  Only got you caught in the worst prison imaginable…with the worst torture imaginable.  A shiver ran the length of my spine at the memory and forced my attention from it onto the vision sleeping at the foot of the bed.

The features were reminiscent of a fox, narrow, tapering, and elegant.  His silken looking fur was too short to form the flaring ruff that most Kreth had about their neck and at odd intervals along their body.  Tarkath's lay flat against his skin instead, making him seem leaner, sleeker than most, it didn't hide his powerful build in the least. 

The silverish-cream fur was lined in beige bars that thinned to accent his features.  His mouth was open partially in his sleep to show pearly white teeth, flat herbivore's teeth.  The eyes were rounded, and from memory colored the most exquisite gold flecked with ebony.  The nose was proud, as was the chin.  He wasn't the most classical beauty…but he wasn't far off.  Not in my eyes at least. 

I let my eyes wander about the room, no windows, and no furnishings other than a hard metal chair, the bed, and a chest.  The other Kreth had assured that.  

Escape wasn't an option I wanted now…there wasn't anywhere to run, and my other was here.  Even though, it still agitated me that I was at the mercy of these people.  I had the nagging feeling the intimidating Kreth was more my keeper than my other was. 

My other threw one arm out as he turned restlessly and my eyes were drawn to three long hairless scars.  Curious, I hadn't a clue how he'd gotten those….  Something else I would pry into when I encountered a console.

Sighing I settled closer to him and keeping an eye on his breathing to make sure he wouldn't wake without my knowing I stretched out my hand and lightly stroked his arm.  His fur wasn't as silky as it looked, it was more so.

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(Mischa: Commander of Mischa's Strikers)

Slowly stretching I woke up, lazily opened my eyes, and jolted fully awake.  He wasn't in the room, and a quick look at the door proved he hadn't left.  Something I wouldn't put past my little brother, even if he knew he'd probably pass out in the middle of the hall. 

 Father would love to see that, yet another sign of my failure to train 'Kath's ironclad stubbornness out of him.  Something I refused to do, without that streak 'Kath wouldn't be 'Kath, he would become a Dylath rip-off.  As much as I had loved Dylath, I loved 'Kath just as he was.

That left the guest bedroom and the Veh-Ket….  I slipped out of bed and quickly padded to the door hoping beyond hope that nothing had happened.  When I had told him he could defend himself I hadn't meant now, he couldn't defend himself from a fly as weak as he was, let alone a fully healed war hardened Veh-Ket.

When I arrived I saw my little brother lying at the end of the bed asleep, the Veh-Ket stroking his fur in a subtly intimate way.  I entered the room fully and exchanged a tension filled glance with the creature before gathering 'Kath into my arms. 

The way he had been touching my brother combined with the softness that lingered in his eyes, something that hadn't been there earlier, struck a chord deep inside me.  One I knew no one would…no one could approve of.  I could only hope it wouldn't be mirrored in the youngblood's eyes when he woke.  I could only hope…and realize this was Tarkath, my unconventional stubborn little brother.  When had he ever passed up the chance, even unknowingly, to go against the fur? 

That prompted a warning in itself.  "If you ever hurt him…" The Veh-Ket's eyes widened slightly at the implied threat and possibly the implied acceptance.  He nodded slightly watching me, soft gray-green eyes hardened with wariness.

Satisfied I left and settled 'Kath in his own bed wondering if I needed to lock the guest room and keep the key until the youngblood was well enough.  At least he hadn't tried to see his hawks, patching up bald spots on him was about the last thing I wanted to do.

Sitting in the chair I had been in earlier I settled back to wait with all of the patience father had instilled in me when I was as young as 'Kath.  I didn't need it though, for the youngblood woke after what couldn't be more than a full hour.  He smiled sheepishly at me.  

"Youngblood, I didn't mean for you to jump straight into your usual schedule.  At least rest a day first, for me?  Please?"  My tone turned wheedling; "If you do I'll let you convince me to go hawking with you whenever you want." 

I almost regretted promising that when I saw 'Kath's eyes light up with excitement.  Now I could only hope he was as good a healer as I suspected or a certain bloodthirsty brood of hawks were going to pick me bald.  "Now rest Tarkath before I decide to tie you down." 

'Kath laughed softly, "Brother I will rest, and please don't tie me down.” He grinned mischievously, “I might bring the guards in when I start screaming for help." 

"You wouldn't, think of the embarrassment."  

The grin turned blinding, "You might find it embarrassing, but I know my weaknesses and I know the entire guard personally.  It wouldn't be too incredibly mortifying to ask one to untie me."  He paused and settled himself under the covers comfortably before continuing.  "They'd actually appreciate having to do it.  I would give them yet another complaint to add to the song they're making about Mischa the Black, the Vrlan family tyrant…so far they've managed sixty verses."

I strove to look shocked even though I knew about the song and had heard a number of the verses sung in very unflattering off-key voices when the men came in drunk.  "Surely not sixty, as hard as I've worked to be as I am today, I would have hoped for at least a round hundred!"

"They're not counting the same vile acts twice, apparently you're repetitious."  'Kath grinned at me. 

"If that's the case, I'll strive to be more original.  Now I have to go at least pretend to be doing something in the line of duty at least once before dinner.  Is there anything I can get you before I go?"  'Kath shook his head causing his spiky hair to fall over his eyes as he curled around a pillow.  With a small sigh I ruffled his hair, dropped the usual light kiss on his cheek and left silently. 

I had the reassurance I needed that the youngblood was okay, it was enough to help me face the trial I would no doubt be submitted to for missing so many of my duties.

It was times like these that I wished for the days when the war was in a lull and Dylath was still alive.  Father had been a different person then…more alive…and Tarkath was just a little bundle of fur with tufts of it sticking out at every angle like a living sticker brush.  One that I had had to rescue nearly every day from being "The Evil Veh-Ket" in Dylath's war games.  Games which seemed to always include soaking poor 'Kath to the skin in mud if they weren't stopped in time.

A dirty young 'Kath was a force to reckon with, even then my youngest brother knew just the right tone to pitch his voice at to split one's ears.  Dylath no doubt had a score of bruises every time from 'Kath's retaliations.  I know I always did when I had to split them apart. Then the baby would run to Mother with the most woeful big-eyed expression anyone had ever seen asking pitifully for a bath and Dylath would be in trouble again.

The memories brought a smile to my face as I purposefully strode down the softly lit halls of the living area to the 'combat zone' as my second, Jac, dubbed it.  The rich planet tones of the hall bled into stark flat blue uniform halls and floor of the room that encompassed half the family chateau.  It's sheer amount of empty space left one breathless for a moment, the bland design only making it that much more overwhelming.  All of it was built of reprocessed tanchn metal that had, what I thought was the rather disgusting habit of bending under my weight.  I had been reassured a dozen times it could hold a launching transport without breaking.  I still preferred something solid beneath my boot soles and to the ancestors with the weakness father would no doubt perceive in that.

There was the patriarch of the family now, regally reserved, with that artfully cold detached air that made it quite plain that if you bothered him unnecessarily breathing might become a foreign action.  In short he was in his commander personae.  I haven't heard of a case where he actually did something so drastic as to kill someone…but when he looks at you with that belittling gaze you can certainly wish he would.

He waved me to him and continued reading his report as I went to stand before his desk in the middle of the vast control center.  "Sir."  He looked up and gave me the faint equivalent of the belittling look.  Automatically I tightened the cape chain on my uniform and it faded.

"Mischa."  He went back to reading the progress reports and making adjustments to the tactical map at his side.  "How is Tarkath?"  I kept my expression detached, "He is well, he'll be up I would guess in an hour good as new."

"Good.  Send him those files, " He gestured to a stack as thick as his fist, "Tell him to read through them and be prepared for the conference in the morning."

"Yes sir.  Is there anything else?"

"Naturally Mischa, isn't there always?"  He gestured at the tactical map that I had been studying covertly, "They're moving on your men in section six.  You'll need to get them out of there, take no more than two commands if you need them, and leave tomorrow." 

I almost sighed but held it back, "And what of Tarkath?  Someone will need to see to his training and find him a healer to apprentice to."  He shrugged dismissively, "Shadray will take care of it, she's good with such things." 

That was a low blow to Tarkath and we both knew it.  When I discovered my gift as a kinetic he had personally found my trainer and was present for at least one training a week just to see my progress for himself.  It went without saying that Dylath would have gotten the same treatment if not better. 

Of course when I was trained Dylath was still alive…but I couldn't help wondering if this was truly just another show of the man father had become after Dylath's death, or if he somehow blamed 'Kath for it.  That wasn't my only worry though, Shadray…had the unfortunate habit of hating every member of my entire family except for Father.  Jac told me once that he suspected she coveted Mother's place and I had never found anything to refute that.  

That meant that Tarkath would have a hard time ahead of him, and the best training would be a far off dream until I returned.  Hopefully that would be in less than a month, but I truly hadn't that much faith that I would.  These things always dragged on twice as long as expected. 

I hadn't enough favor built up with father to argue him on this for 'Kath so I resigned myself to a headshake and left it at that.  "Is that all sir?"

He spoke absently, still moving cargo transport figurines about on the map, "That new pet of your brothers, the Veh-Ket.  Tell me about him."  Now we were on ground I had been expecting.

"He is fully healed, awake, and apparently attached somewhat to Tarkath.  I gave him some of my old clothes, but he still needs cleaned and fed.  Nothing beyond what Tarkath can handle.  I believe Tarkath can guard him well enough on his own but to be sure Idri implanted a TI device, and the guard have them on special watch when they are out.”   I doubted they’d need the guards much with the TI in place, it stood for tracking and impairment.  Nasty little devices, they were implanted against the spine so removal was nearly impossible since it would be so easy to damage the spine itself taking it out.  It also made the device very good at impairing the host when it felt the need too since it was tied into the nervous system.  The Veh-ket wouldn’t dare raise a finger to him once he realized it was in, not many risked that sort of pain.  “He has definitely participated in the war though that was never a question.  I haven't seen any sign of just how high his skills are or how he was captured, but I will tell Tarkath to keep alert for any evidence."  That pretty much covered everything he needed to know that wouldn't get Tarkath nailed to the wall.

"Unfortunately I let my guard down for awhile and Tarkath went to see the Veh-Ket.  He fell into a healing sleep for I don't know how long, on the bed next to the Veh-Ket, but he did no more than watch him."

I held my breath under the searing gaze that finally rose from the map to actually look at me as me and not as a faceless soldier under his command.  Lucky me.  "Mischa.  Do you mean to tell me you let Tarkath get himself into a situation he could have been hurt?"

I could only nod, and his voice turned cold as ice.  "I'm disappointed in you Mischa.  I thought you were better than that."  Our eyes were locked and the rage and disappointment showed bright in his, he looked down.  "Gather your supplies, you'll be leaving within the hour."

I turned shakily, and felt like every eye was on me, though only a few actually were.  The pity in those few twisted the knife of pain father had started and I steeled my back.  There were too many things to do before the hour was out leaving in that short of time was going to be nearly impossible, but I’d manage it.  And then I would have time to change whatever it was about myself that seemed to keep failing.