Story Notes



Syndicate: Part III

There was one reason that Kenji had failed to mention. Hikaru had something that no-one else in the gang had. He had been born in America.

He hadn't seen his father in over six years. When he was younger he had been dutifully sat on a plane once every summer but they had stopped ever since his mother's uncle had gone to one of Hikaru's kendo classes to see what all his instructors had been raving about.

The car ride from the airport was awkward.

'You haven't forgotten all your English, have you?

Hikaru put on his best American drawl. 'Naaw, man. Whatchu take me faw, an idyot?'

His father said nothing to him after that until he arrived at the launch station.

'Where did you get that scar?' he asked before he left.

'Fell down the stairs.'

Hikaru could tell the man didn't believe him, but he didn't care.

'When you have holidays I'd like you to come and see me. We could get to know each other again.'

Hikaru shrugged. 'Yeah, ok. I'll have to see what the old man has planned.'

His father swallowed and nodded. He knew exactly what kind of a man his ex-wife's uncle was like. He looked as if he were about to try and hug him so Hikaru turned around quickly to examine his suitcase.

'I'll be going then.'

'Oh Dad?' Hikaru sneered as the man turned around almost hopefully. 'Aren't you going to ask about how my Mom is?'

His father turned abruptly and left. Hikaru sniggered and started to unpack.

His room-mate for the time until they left turned out to be a pleasant, fresh-faced young man called Bob. Hikaru was reasonably sure that they would be able to get on for the short duration.

As they left to go to one of the cadet bars a small curly-haired kid ran smack into him.

'God, watch where you're going!' he gasped.

The boy, who looked about twelve stared at him with huge brown eyes. They flickered over his face.

'The cadets here are getting younger and younger,' said Bob. 'Go on, scram!'

The boy blinked once, deliberately and for a second Hikaru thought he saw an odd expression cross his face. But then it was gone and the kid grinned cheerfully. 'Excuse please,' he said in an extremely thick Russian accent and then ran off with the same speed at which he had crashed into Hikaru.

'Jesus,' said Bob. 'They let anyone in these days. You okay?'

Hikaru nodded but there was something that disturbed him about the look he'd seen on the kid's face for that one fleeting moment. It reminded him of something.

It was only years later that he would realise that he'd seen the same expression looking back at himself. The expression he saw when he looked in a mirror before he had to take out a 'client'.

***

While most cadets spent their last night as a civilian getting drunk, being underage Pavel had been forced to spend it on his own in the room he had been given.

It was a shame because Pavel had been sneaking sips out of Dedushka's liquor cabinet for the past year or so. He was reasonably sure his grandfather knew but indulged his favourite grandson anyway.

He later learned that some of the cadets had gotten into a fight with some local and all of them were sent back in disgrace. Pavel shrugged it off. He had seen much more impressive fights. He wondered what they would say if he asked them if they would like to know how long a man could survive with his innards hanging out. He wondered what they would do if they had known that had the littlest Starfleet cadet been there, he could have taken out all five thugs permanently without even breaking a sweat.

That night was a lot more momentous for Pavel Andreievich than any bar brawl. It was the night that puberty hit him like a freight train.

Pavel had never given much thought to either sex in a sexy manner. He knew what it was. It just seemed messy and unnecessary and yuck!

He realised just what he had been missing the moment he ran into the boy with the scar.

He'd hissed and snarled something at Pavel that he didn't quite understand because he was too busy staring.

Pavel had no idea what it was. Was it the face with the too keen eyes that went straight through him, the black, black hair that fell over his forehead almost into his eyes, was it the slightly muscular body? Or was it just the scar? Pavel knew scars, and he knew that one had not been won in any bar fight. Perhaps it was the knowledge that here was someone who might be like him?

Either way for one harsh maddening second Pavel wanted him. He wanted him fiercer and keener than he had wanted any kill. It was a deadly, hungry desire something he had only felt before when he was poised with his weapon waiting for all the vectors to line up and speak to him.

It passed almost as quickly as it came. He was a skinny fourteen year old and the boy with the scar was looking at him as if he wanted to smash him into the sidewalk.

He grinned, made some apology and ran back to his room.

He went to bed early that night but instead of sleeping he lay awake thinking of the boy with the scar. He'd probably not look twice at Pavel right now. But, Pavel was a patient sort. He always got what he wanted, sooner or later.

It was just a matter of getting the angles right.


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