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Sui Generis	By : Macx Category: M through R > Magnificent Seven Views: 1489 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Magnificent Seven, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Sui Generis
by Birgit Macx Stäbler
Author�s Voice of Warning (aka Author�s Note):
#1 English is not my first language; it�s German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize <g>
The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are.....
#2 This is one LONG fic. I separated it into three sections. Section 1 is focused on Chris and Ezra, but the other boys appear later on as well. The story is set in an AU and I hope I didn�t maul the characters too much for you.
Feedback: empty inbox seeks emails <g>
Who to Blame for What (aka Author�s Thanks): Lee, for listening to my feeble attempts to explain this idea to her and not laughing <g> And Lara Bee, my beta bunny concerning scenes and plot, for creating the bunny that resulted in Section 1. I wouldn�t have written a piece about Ezra and Chris together on BP-379 if not for her complaints.

ONE
BP-379

The night was pleasantly warm for mid-summer. Darkness had descended two hours ago and the night life of the small town was punctuated by raucous, drunken laughter and music, mainly from one of the two saloons. Light spilled out of the grimy windows and painted strange patterns onto the hard, dusty ground. Here and there, silent snorts from the corrals could be heard. The normal peace was broken by loud voices and a sudden commotion from one of the saloons. The volume increased and suddenly a shot was fired. There were yells and glass broke, then a small, lithe figure could be seen leaving the saloon in a hurry, darting over the wide street. Not a long time after him, five men exited the saloon as well, guns drawn, looking around.
"Where the hell is the sneaky weasel?" one of them roared.
The smaller shadow moved quickly toward the stables.
"He's over at the stables!" someone yelled.
A soft curse could be heard, then the fleeing man quickly opened the gate to the corral where a herd of recently caught Kiowata was nervously moving around, ears flat on their heads, eyes rolling.
"Yaaaah!" he yelled, startling the first few.
He was just fast enough to get out of the way as they bolted through the open gate. The rest of the herd followed, their instincts telling them there was a way out. The shadowy man climbed onto the corral fence. He suddenly stiffened, eyes growing wide. Then he shook himself and as one of the large bodies pushed through the opening, he grabbed a handful of mane and slipped onto the warm, broad back.
The wild herd thundered through the town and disappeared into the night.
* * *
It couldn't be. Impossible. He would remember, would he? There should be something left to tell him that this had actually happened. Chris Larabee stood in total shock. Sharp eyes took in the green landscape, the flowing hills, the forest behind him, the mountains in the distance. The air was crisp and sharp, the sun had just risen, and there were birds flying across the azure sky. Everything looked incredibly real, but it couldn't be. Because if it was that meant...
He heard an animal snort and he flinched. It had been him. Sounding like a horse. But he was a man. He was commander of an Agency team. He was Christopher Larabee! Not... not a Kiowata. Closing his eyes, he felt ripples of minute tremors race over the black coat of this animal form. No, it couldn't be real. It had to be a dream. He just needed to wake up!
Someone approached him and his eyes flew open as he instinctively danced away from the man.
"Whoa, easy there, fella," he said, voice smooth and calm. It had a soothing quality, as if he was used to talking to frightened animals. "Not going to hurt you."
He held up both hands away from his body, smiling. Green eyes kept contact with Chris's as he approached. He was dressed in a blue shirt and tan pants with a matching jacket, which showed some signs of wear. The clothes had surely been expensive once. A long time ago, actually. They didn�t look ripped, but definitely in need of replacement soon.
"Looks like they didn't get to clipping you, hm? Lucky you. Too bad you have no idea what you are, right?"
And I'm what? Chris wondered. I know who I am and I know that this body can't possibly be me. I'm dreaming this because I'm undercover, trying to catch the smugglers who keep fencing Kiowata products and the animals themselves.
"Well, I won't keep you from freedom," the man went on. "I appreciate the lift you gave me. I hope you'll figure out who you are one day. Then again, it would most likely drive you nuts." A shadow fell over the sun-tanned features.
 Chris muttered.
The man stiffened and his eyebrows rose. "What the.... Oh, no!" He shook his head. "No, no, no. No way!" He stepped back and looked around as if expecting someone to jump out from behind the trees. "I didn't just hear that."
<You... heard me?> Chris exclaimed.
The green eyes displayed shock. "Aw hell....."
* * *
People disappearing was nothing new to the Agency. People got lost all the time for different reasons; they were on the run from the law, from their lives or just from themselves. Most of them, close to 85%, reappeared one way or the other after a while. Dead or alive. The others were simply gone, and sometimes soon forgotten. But then the rumors started circling, about the unwanted being disposed of, about criminals not ending up in prison but somewhere even worse. But those were just rumors. No one gave them much credit, treating them as a file that existed but no one wanted to work with. The appearance of a man in one of the Agency offices one day changed that. He was thin, undernourished, eyes darting nervously back and forth. He requested protection in exchange for information on a secret project that concerned the people who had disappeared for no apparent reason. The information that the missing people were changed from human to an animal by a machine was first taken as a joke. Scientists agreed that while it was possible to molecularly disassemble and then reassemble a living being, the risks of failure and death were immense. Still, a first team started to investigate the claims. When the Judge in charge of Section 7 had been presented enough evidence to merit a deeper research, Chris Larabee's unit had come into the game.
Section 7 dealt with smugglers and piracy in all its devious little variations. Months of detailed research, undercover work and hundreds of hours spent hacking into archives of various private and government companies yielded evidence that something horrific had gone on for decades, right under the noses of high-ranking Agency officials. Investigations were started all across the Territory, and though the people responsible tried to stop Judge Orrin Travis, they only succeeded in setting him on their trail like a bloodhound.
It finally crystallized just where those unwanted and criminals had been taken to.
The planet had been classified as BP-379, an M-Class planet the size of Earth with a breathable atmosphere and some very exotic wildlife. The small planet had been populated with a life form indigenous to a world called Prima 2, which was light years from this place. They were called 'Kiowata', a kind of large, omnivorous equine with two horns growing out of the bony ridges over its eyes. Now, there were those who paid an extraordinary large amount of money for the Kiowata, even though they were under protection by an Act of the Joined Governments. Ruthless hunting had decimated the species. Prima 2 was looking after its population of Kiowata and whoever hunted or caught them was prosecuted quite severely. Still, animals were smuggled in from somewhere, though no one could explain how there could be off-spring from the genetically coded herds on Prima 2 or any of the zoo animals. Those confiscated, dead and alive, had shown no traces of having come from Prima 2 parentage.
The rumors were starting to grow more and more into truths.
There had also been a steady increase of ground Kiowata horn that was sold to those who could pay for the rare powder. It had healing powers, some said, or was an aphrodisiac. Some doctors swore it was a better pain medication than every other known painkiller. Whatever the ground horn chips did, they were another reason why the Kiowata were an endangered species. That they were supplemented by turning humans into equines, which then interbred, didn�t help matters. It made them worse. Someone had a high disregard for human life.
Chris Larabee was now one of the victims.

He was still in shock, denial running through his system as he stared at the human.
<Who are you? Why can you hear me.....?>
"My name is Ezra Standish, and I have no idea why I can hear you," the man answered, warily looking at him. "Who might you be?"
"Commander Chris Larabee, Special Agent."
Was it his imagination or did the man flinch slightly. "Welcome to BP-379, commander," Standish said out loud, a note of sarcasm in his voice.
Chris tossed his head, glaring. <Where am I? How did this happen?> he demanded. <Are you involved?>
"Whoa, calm down." Standish raised his hands. "First of all, you are on the North Continent of what is known as BP-379, a really dusty and inhospitable place. As for what happened, you tell me. I didn't have anything to do with it. I'm just making a living here, okay?"
More information flooded back to Chris, all slightly out of context, but the general idea stuck. He had been undercover, he had been discovered, knocked out and then..... the next thing he knew he was looking like an oversized horse!
<No....> he whispered, the full impact of it hitting him between the eyes. <Impossible. No�.>
Standish watched him carefully. "Remembering, hm?"
<Yes> Chris mumbled.
"Not pretty, I know."
 Chris decided, sounding almost feverish to his own ears. <Where's the next com station for interplanetary connections?>
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Commander, but out here are nothing but small farms and the occasional town. There are no com stations."
Chris growled dangerously, stomping his front legs. <There have to be! There has to be a space port! Tell me where it is, Standish!>
Ezra eyes held a strange expression, then he smiled bitterly. "The space port is nearly on the other side of the planet. And even if you could reach it, there is no way you'd be able to send a message. You are a Kiowata. The next rancher who sees you will either shoot you to sell body parts for money or he'll catch you for one of the many meat markets. Then again, you might end up as a breeding specimen."
Chris felt something cold course through him. He remembered the many Kiowata horns they had found while searching for the ones behind the smuggling. The stuffed heads and bodies, the many unregistered animals running around on private lands.
<No!> he roared.
"And then there's the question as to whether you'd even be able to contact your team or not. They might have declared you dead by now," Ezra added.
Reality was suddenly too much to take. Chris felt his mind whirl, his thoughts running together. He was living a nightmare.
 he whispered.
"Well, good luck then, Commander Larabee," Ezra said levelly. "This is where our ways part. I'm going to the next settlement to get supplies, then I'm off to greener pastures. Whatever foolish notion you have about contacting your friend, you shouldn't show yourself all too openly. It's bad for your health."
With that Ezra turned and stalked off. Chris watched him, anger and puzzlement warring inside him. Adding to that was his confusion about the whole situation. His adrenaline level had gone down, but nothing seemed any clearer than hours before. Snorting, he stamped his hooves into the soft ground. He knew he had to contact his team, but as a Kiowata that was close to impossible. He couldn't talk, except through that weird connection to Standish, and the man showed no sign of even considering following his orders.
He had taken several steps after Ezra when he realized what he was doing. Logically, he should find help somewhere else instead of a criminal who had actually 'stolen' him to flee from the local law. Instinct vetoed that. He needed Ezra because without him, he'd just end up in one of the stables or corrals again. Or worse, as a stuffed trophy for some rich collector. Annoyance swamped him.
Chris finally set out after Standish, keeping back, trying not to announce his presence. Better stick with someone who knew his way around here than stay on his own.
* * *
Ezra had been aware of Larabee's presence for over an hour by now, but he ignored the Kiowata that followed him in the distance. He had fled the last town, Broken Path, in a hurry and except for the money he had conned off the five dubious characters and the weapons he carried on him, he had nothing left. Not that he had had many possessions to begin with. The little he had had would most likely be sold by the lady who had charged him an incredible amount of money for his room. Oh well.... Ezra knew there was a small settlement a few hours from Broken Path where he might be able to buy supplies. Getting a cheap mount was another matter.
The Kiowata, Chris Larabee, shortened the distance between them throughout the next two hours and Ezra was growing tired of it. The fact that he heard Larabee in his head was disturbing enough. Part of him argued that since no one had any idea how aware Kiowata changelings could communicate, that this might be natural, another part vividly reminded him of the jolt he had felt race through him at the corral. Back then he hadn�t given it any further thought, but now was another matter. He had chosen the black stallion out of the many who had pushed past him to get free; why?
Ezra stopped and turned to look at the impressive animal. "What do you want from me, Commander?"
Larabee's ears were turned forward, but he appeared tense. <Why can you hear me?>
"You followed me for hours just to ask me that?"
<Answer me!>
"Why should I?" Ezra asked neutrally, a bland expression sliding over his features.
Chris growled, eyes darkening.
"Threats won't get you anywhere."
The Kiowata hesitated. Finally he tossed his head, annoyance radiating off him.
Ezra shook his head. "Okay, listen. I don't know why. Maybe others can hear you, too. I'm just the only one around."
Chris gave him a dubious look, but he lapsed into silence. Ezra watched him warily.
<It's getting dark> Chris finally remarked, sounding like he wanted to say whatever came to mind to break the silence.
"I noticed. A small farmer settlement is another two hours this way." He gestured vaguely.
Another moment of hesitant silence. Ezra started off down the path. Chris followed him.
<You're off world as well?> he asked conversationally.
Standish tried to ignore him, but in the end he nodded. "Trying to get off."
<So do I>
Silence again.
<We could work together> Chris proposed.
"Why?" Ezra had stopped and faced him.
<Because maybe, just maybe, cooperation will get us further than trying it on our own>
"You are a Special Agent. I thought your kind was trained to expect the unexpected and are able to master every situation." He knew he was being sarcastic and rather unkind, but his own experience with Larabee's lot was unpleasant.
The ears flattened against the head. <Circumstances demand adaptation> Larabee ground out. <And you would get to this settlement faster if you rode>
Ezra's eyebrows shot up. Larabee was offering to let him ride?
 he added.
"Okay, let's say I agree. What's your angle?"

Ezra nearly laughed out loud, but he settled for a wry grin. "You against the rest of the world? Commander, you are crazy. Nothing you'll do or don�t will ever change this world."
Chris's eyes narrowed. 
"Tall order for someone who is completely on his own. How do you propose the two of us can do what a horde of Agents couldn't?"
<We are on the planet, they aren't. My men and I spent months searching for the smugglers' hideout, but we never reached this planet. By not killing me, the smugglers have dug their own graves. I'm here now, I know who I am; you know this world. Maybe you know where the people responsible could hide>
Ezra mulled it over. It sounded risky and Ezra P. Standish didn't do risky as long as he didn't know the fates played in his favor. But it also presented an opportunity to get off this dirt ball. Anyway, who told him that Larabee would really get that far? They might be searching for the smugglers for ages, even if Ezra planned to jump ship the moment he had a ride off world. He would enjoy the pleasures of having a mount for as long as it took.
I must be out of my mind, he thought. Making deals with an Agent who'd, as soon as he finds out who I am, will throw me in jail. But beggars couldn't be choosers. He had to make do with what he had until better opportunities arose.
"All right, here's the deal: I'll help you as best as I can. I won't swear unwavering loyalty to your cause, Commander, but you have my services." He looked Larabee straight in the eyes.
The Kiowata nodded. <Enough for me. Get on>
Ezra approached warily. Kiowata were generally larger than the standard equine, but he had sat on one before and he had ridden bare back as well. Grabbing a handful of black mane, he hoisted himself onto the broad back with a bit more difficulty than expected. Chris walked off into the direction they had been going as the night started to settle.
* * *
True to his sense of direction, Ezra had found the small settlement by the name of Clearwater, where he had walked in alone, hiding Chris close by. He had bought the necessary supplies, eaten a large dinner and got himself a room. While he was used to spending the nights on a bedroll under the stars, Ezra believed to take what he could get, and the room had been too tempting not to use it. By the time he returned to where Chris was hiding, the Kiowata was livid.

<Where were you?> Larabee spat, raw anger radiating off him. <You were supposed to come back after getting supplies!>
"No, Mr. Larabee, I said I'd get supplies, not that I'd come back right away."
Chris tossed his head in anger. <What were you doing in that town?>
"Exactly what I told you. Then I had dinner and slept in the luxury of a down pillow bed, if you have to know."
He started to untangle the supply bags from the largest purchase he had made. Chris watched him, trying to keep calmer than he felt. He had been worried, for crying out loud! At least after the spell of sudden betrayal that had coursed through him. A long time he had wondered if he had prematurely put too much faith into the man. Then he discovered what Ezra had carried along.
<What's that?> Chris asked coldly, body tensing.
Ezra gave him one of those infuriating smiles. "A saddle, commander."
Chris's ears lay flat on his head and he glared at the human. Standish faced the large Kiowata with no apparent fear. He gazed up into the brown eyes and the smile continued to annoy the hell out of Chris.
A saddle. He knew exactly what it was and he knew what Standish was planning.
<Where did you get it from?>
"I acquired it from a gentlemen in town who had no need for it any more."
<We have no money. You told me so!>
"That was before I discovered the little gold mine called a saloon." Ezra flashed him a grin. "People in Clearwater are very eager to prove their gambling skills when faced with a stranger."
<So you bought a saddle from money you cheated off people?>
Ezra's face closed up. "I do not cheat. I'm a professional and I don't have to stoop to such lowly methods while engaging in a game of chance with the locals."
<Professional? You're a professional gambler?> Chris echoed, sounding surprised. Then again, he had never asked Ezra about his job prior to coming to BP-379. <You're a con?>
Ezra refused to answer.
Chris snorted, anger visible in the brown eyes. <You probably stole the saddle as well!>
"No, commander, I didn't have to steal. Mr. Peerson lost a game we agreed upon."
Larabee clearly didn't believe him. <What else didn't you steal?> he demanded.
Ezra forced himself to stay calm. "Why is this suddenly of such interest to you?"
<Since I found out that the man I'm supposed to rely on is a thief, cheat and con!>
"Harsh words from someone in your position, Mr. Larabee. A guy has to make a living somehow. An empty stomach doesn't ask, and one can't eat honor! "
Chris stared at him, anger and betrayal coursing through him. Standish was a criminal; he was an officer of the law. Standish had conned people out of their money, Chris would arrest him on sight if he were human.
<Am I next on the list?> he asked, still furious.
"Of course!" Ezra answered sarcastically. "I'll walk you into the next best town, make up a story how I came across you, and hand you over to the highest bidder!" His green eyes flashed, then he forced his rampaging emotions back under control. "How stupid are you, Larabee? You are an unclipped wild Kiowata to everyone! I wouldn't be able to get out of town fast enough before a Handler gets me, and then kills or clips you because you have found your memories again. I'm walking a fine line here! One wrong move and we're both dead!"
Clipping was still the stuff nightmares were made of, but the procedure made sense. When the horns were cut off, which was called clipping, the animal became more docile. By removing a good part of the bony growth, a strand of nerves was cut, which ran directly into the brain. The horns didn't regrow. If the clipped Kiowata was one of the unlucky changed humans, he would also lose his personality, forever altering them from human to mere animal.
"If you want to pretend that I'm the bad guy, do it!" Ezra retaliated, the anger briefly getting the better of him. "I promised you help and I will honor my word. All I ask in return is that you trust what I do in the towns we pass through."
Chris was silent for a while, then his gaze wandered over to the saddle. <I'm not going to wear that> he finally snarled.
"Listen, Mr. Agent. You said we should work together to get off this backwater hell hole. That means cooperate." Ezra was glad to change the topic, even if the argument went on.
<I'm not going to wear a saddle! It's enough I have to carry you!> he hissed in outrage.
"Do you know what it looks like if I run into someone, anyone, riding bare back and without even a halter on you? Those few who actually ride Kiowata have tamed theirs through various means, mostly clipping the horns." Ezra gave him a pointed look. "You are, by all accounts, wild. So we have to cover up those facts, disguise you, for lack of a better word. The saddle and the halter are part of that disguise."
Chris gave the offending piece of leather a dark look. Ezra waited patiently. He knew he had the winning hand here. It was a dangerous game, but he had been playing it ever since he had ignored the voice of reason and accepted Larabee's partnership. He closely watched the black animal in front of him, noticed the tense stance, the flat ears, the cold look in those hazel eyes. Finally Larabee snorted loudly.
<All right!>
"I promise to rub you down properly in the evening," Ezra added. He just couldn't resist.
He danced out of the way, laughing, as Chris snapped at him, sharp teeth just missing his left upper arm.
* * *
Days passed into a week. Chris had gone from shock into bouts of depression over the, in his eyes, hopeless situation, and had then reached anger. Ezra was having an increasingly more difficult time with his unwilling partner and the arguments were repeating themselves, mostly in the morning when Ezra saddled up, and in the evening, when he attempted to make the Kiowata comfortable. Standish knew how to take care of the proud animals, but Chris was a stubborn and independent man, someone who pushed offered help away because of the knot of barely restrained fury in his mind.
"We need money," Ezra stated, counting their last coins. "This barely gets us enough food for you, let alone the bare necessities to acquire a ticket off this planet."
He ruffled through their belongings. Most of it had come into his possession through rather illegal means, the rest had been bought with money won at the gambling tables in the various towns they had passed. Well, Ezra had passed through most of them, leaving Chris outside town. A huge, unclipped Kiowata would be something of an attraction and Standish had wanted to draw as little attention to them as possible.
While Kiowata were accepted mounts and pack animals, horses were still out numbering them. Kiowata were valuable trading goods, dead and alive, and the people of BP-379 gave the idea of an endangered species little thought. For them, it counted to survive out here, and if that meant hunting wild Kiowata, so be it. Whether they knew about the immoral origin of most of the current population of these proud equines was a matter of opinion. Ezra had never asked. It was easier to survive that way.
<I'm not interested in leaving this planet> Chris said forcefully. 
Ezra gave him an unreadable look, then produced some food bars. He sat down in the shade of a large tree, unwrapping the bars, and took a bite off one.
"We've been over this before, Mr. Larabee. None of the locals would have a strong enough com station for that."
<Who has?>
"The rich and famous." He flashed Chris a grin. "I know a few names and places where to get information."
<So?>
"So we have to carefully ask around and not arouse suspicion."
<And what makes you such an expert on operations?> Chris asked, sounding irritated.
"I've been on this planet a lot longer than you, Commander Larabee. I know things. One is, don't get on the wrong side of people who have the power to make you disappear for good. And I'm not talking about your horse head on a wall." He threw the half eaten food bar onto the blanket.
<I'm sick and tired of this!> Chris snapped.
Here we go again, Ezra sighed, but he kept his mouth shut as the huge animal behind him tossed his head.
<How long has it been? Weeks? Months? I don't even know what date it is!>
"Our time? Or Standard?"
Chris glared at him as if Ezra was being difficult on purpose. <It's been too long!> he growled. <Too long to carry you around without seeing any results! The saddle chafes my back! This... this torture instrument you call a halter... I feel like a mule!>
Oh, got experience, hm? Ezra thought.
An evil glare answered him. "Whoops," he muttered.
The strange connection between them had changed within the last four weeks. It was becoming clearer in many ways, but also more intense. Whatever was happening between them, Standish wasn't happy about the developments. If anything, the connection had become tighter.
<We've been through how many towns? Five? Six? You go in, have your fun, while I spend the time tethered to some fence or waiting for you outside!>
"We've been over this before, Mr. Larabee," Ezra answered, smoothing his bedroll. "It's the only way. You agreed."
<Because I have no choice!> The ears now lay flat on the head. <No one but you can hear me! There's nothing I can do except carry you around and pretend I'm a big dumb horse!>
It was something Chris had tried out again and again, but except for Ezra, no one heard him. For them, he was a Kiowata.
"I know how frustrating this is, how you feel..."
<Know? You know nothing, Standish!>
Ezra opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head. He knew he would never win an argument while Chris was feeding off his anger. The man was so.... irritating and annoying. Even the fact that he was stuck in a Kiowata body hadn't erased the arrogant behavior of an Agency officer.
<All I know is that I'm stuck in this form, that my team is out there looking for me, and you are unable to help me contact them!>
"I'm working on it."
<You're working on your conning skills> Chris snarled, baring the prominent canines Kiowata featured. While they were herbivores, they had rather impressive canine teeth. <Why should I trust you when all you tell me is that it's all for the best, but I never see success or results?>
Ezra stiffened and gave Chris a withering look. "I didn't force you along, Larabee, let me make this clear. You chose to follow me. You said I might be of help. I've been trying to make this work every step of the way and we came far." His voice was completely level. "If you think you can do better on your own, then leave!"
The Kiowata bared its sharp teeth, snorting. Ezra stood his ground, meeting the wild hazel eyes, gauging how much time he had until Larabee gave in to his anger and attacked. Ezra had been where Chris was, but he had had a few factors working for him as well. For a brief moment he wondered whether to reveal his abilities to Chris, then decided against it. In his current state, Chris wouldn't listen to anything he heard or saw.
<Maybe I should!>
With that he turned on his heels and galloped off into the approaching darkness.
That went well, Ezra thought to himself as he watched him go. He slowly relaxed his stance. A small voice whispered that he should go after him, but he ignored it. Chris was in no mood to listen to him and until he had blown off steam, there would be no sense in endangering his health any further.
*
The anger faded quickly and gave way to a sense of loneliness and fear. Chris had stopped further upstream at the small river that also ran by their campsite. The sound of the water calmed his frazzled nerves and as the adrenaline dissipated. He stepped closer to the stream, his sensitive ears moving like little radar dishes to check for dangers. His Kiowata side knew how to survive, while the human side was still flailing for sanity. Chris drank a little, then raised his head, sighing softly. He had completely lost it again, this time worse than ever. And Standish had just stood there and taken it.
That little..... He gave a snort and his ears flicked wildly. His tail beat the air and he stamped his front legs, trying to calm down. Standish was the most infuriating man he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. And he had met a few. One of his best men could drive him crazy with his antics sometimes, but nothing compared to the thief he was now partnered with.
Why him? Why couldn't it have been someone else? Then again, if it had been someone else, like a rancher, he would now be clipped, unaware of his origin, or worse: part of a collection of stuffed animals. No, Standish was the better alternative, even if he was a criminal. Chris had caught himself more than once how he had suspected something behind every word or move of the thief. And it bugged Larabee that he was also the only one who could understand him. This strange connection between them had its uses, but mostly it was a source for even greater annoyance - and it frightened Chris. He was becoming very much used to it.
So far, Ezra hadn't betrayed him. Yes, he had fun in the towns they came through, but true to his word, the thief had done everything to get the information they needed. He was annoying, but he was useful. Still, the dependency irked Chris. He was used to being in command, of having his orders followed. Currently, orders didn't get him very far because the only person who heard him was Standish and the man was stubborn. Not even the difference in size or the threats to bite or kick him helped. Chris was helpless and he hated that feeling.

Chris returned to the camp at sunrise. He hadn't felt quite calm and centered enough to return throughout the night, so he had stayed away. Ezra was busy packing his things in the saddlebags. As he heard Chris approached he raised his head. Chris noticed the closed expression, the mask that had slipped over the face, locking Ezra's emotions behind a wall. With trepidation, Larabee approached the man.
<Ezra, I..... have to apologize for my behavior last night> Chris said, hoping he hadn't irreparably damaged their rather fragile friendship last night.
It wasn't as hard as he had thought, though rehearsing it had helped.
"Apology accepted," was the neutral reply.
<Listen, I ....>
"There is no need to repeat the apology," the thief interrupted him, slinging the saddle bags over his shoulder as he straightened. "I know you're dealing with a lot at the moment."
<How?> Chris asked quietly. He had wondered about that last night as well, as the argument had repeated in his mind.
Ezra hesitated, but then his eyes took on a hard, uncompromising expression. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he finally answered, "and I'd like to leave it at that."
 Chris told him, immediately regretting his words as Ezra's stance grew rigid. <And I know you've proven you are a friend> he added, voice softer.
"I'd be careful with that proclamation, Commander Larabee. You might regret it in the future."
Hard eyes didn't show a single emotion. Ezra was withdrawing, his voice almost growing icicles, and Chris shivered.

"This might be one of those rare times."
Gods, how aggravating could one man be?
<How do you know what this feel likes? Unless you're empathic or unless you actually went through... this...> Chris stumbled to a halt, realization hitting him. <You went through this as well?> he finally whispered, barely voicing it as a question.
Anguish briefly flittered over the otherwise expressionless face. It was so quick, Chris almost doubted he had really seen it.
<But... but how.... How did you change back?>
Ezra sighed deeply. "This isn't easy." He let the saddlebags drop to the grassy ground. He stared at them for a moment, then met Chris's eyes. "Do you know what a Borderline is?"
Chris blinked. <Of course. They are humans born with a genetic defect>
"So it's called a defect, hm? Others call it a mutation, a dark mark, a blemish, or worse.... Where I come from, Borderlines are at the bottom rung and are still being kicked to let go of the ladder, Commander, because Borderlines have abilities others fear. They are without rights." Ezra ran a hand through his short hair, visibly uncomfortable. "Those who can evade detection hide. Some in plain sight."
Chris listened to the hesitant explanation, unsure where this was leading. He knew about Borderlines because of the files the Agency kept. There was no reliable count on how many Borderlines existed or what really defined them, mostly because there was no way to detect these men and women. Those who manifested strong abilities and had no one to talk to soon used them for illegal means. There had been two reported cases of strong telepathy and both had turned insane because of the voices in their heads. There were also accounts of mild telekinesis, precognition, empathy, acute hearing or eye-sight. Those cases where the abilities were strong and could be used to influence someone or something were far and wide. The Borderlines who had mastered their abilities had been registered. Some were even in law enforcement, though Chris had no idea if there were any in the Agency.
Since science couldn�t explain paranormal abilities all that clearly, the Borderlines existed as a shadowy class of humans who had a genetic defect. In some colonies or even on Earth itself, Borderlines were were considered sub-humans, if they were considered human at all. Ezra�s words confirmed that wherever he had been born, he wouldn�t have had a warm welcome if displaying his abilities.
"Borderlines show their abilities throughout puberty; well, most of them. Usually it�s just one power. Some need to be triggered." Ezra bit his lower lip, then suddenly squared his shoulders and started to unbuttoning his shirt.
<Uh, Ezra....?> Chris asked, confused.
The younger man threw the shirt onto the ground and continued with his boots, then unbuckled his pants.
<Whoa, wait, what's... Ezra?>
Chris turned his head away as the man undressed, startled by the behavior. He felt a strange tugging in the back of his mind, as if he was pulled somewhere. When he raised his head again to face Standish, he had he shock of his life. Aside from the shock of waking up on a strange planet as a Kiowata, that is.
In front of him stood a Kiowata. It was smaller than him. It had a light brown coat with reddish highlights, and the mane and tail showed some darker colors. But the green eyes gazing calmly at him were all too familiar.
<Ezra?> Chris managed.
<Yes>
<You.... you can ....>

There was a wariness in the mind-voice that alerted Chris to how uncomfortable his friend felt. It bothered him on some subconscious level because he had thought Ezra would trust him at least this far. Apparently he had been wrong. Chris collected his racing thoughts. Those were extreme abilities for a Borderline, he thought wildly. He had never heard of a shape-changer before!
<You were changed into a Kiowata?>
<Yes. They caught me when I... errr... lifted something out of a top secret lab. I didn�t know it at the time, but the files I had been hired to steal contained information on the machinery used to change humans into Kiowata. Instead of killing me, they dumped me here. I think they thought it would be fun. I regained my memory pretty quickly and fled>
<How did you find out about your abilities?>
Ezra sent a mental shrug. <It just happened. One moment I was like this, the next I was human. Came as kind of a shock. I didn�t know I was a shape-changer till that day. I had� other abilities. I worked on this new element and I can control it now>
There was no pride in his voice; Ezra sounded rather clinical cold as he told his story.
<You see, I know what it feels like, Commander. I know the helplessness, the frustration and the rage> Green eyes met hazel ones. <And it doesn't get you anywhere> Ezra flicked his tail.
Chris watched the smaller form for a while, then nodded slowly. <So you can do it at will because you of a genetic mutation?>
<Yes, probably. I�m not sure on the scientific facts, though>
Ezra demonstrated it by smoothly changing back into his human self. It was more a blur of motions and there was no clear picture as to how it happened. He grabbed his clothes and quickly pulled them on. Chris came closer, looking down at him.
<And you didn't tell me.... why exactly?>
"What would it have changed?" Ezra asked in return, voice neutral. "You have your impression of me, I've one of you. This tid-bit doesn't exactly tip the balance in my favor, right?"
Chris had to smile to himself. <It means the moment I can figure out how to be human again, you'll be wearing that torturous saddle>
Ezra gave him his usual grin and there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "Only in your dreams, Commander."
* * *
Just what are you doing here, Ezra?
The thief sat on a small hill overlooking the almost endless plains. The knee-high grass swayed gently in the breeze. It was a warm day and he had opted to enjoy it as long as it lasted.
You�re not supposed to play hero. You are supposed to look after yourself. You don�t offer help to complete strangers. You run away when they reveal what they are.
An Agent, Standish! The damned law! How could you be so stupid?
Ezra watched the black form of Chris Larabee as the Kiowata grazed not far away. The sun was playing over the midnight coat, giving it an almost bluish depth. He had no idea what the man looked like, but he was sure that this animal represented him perfectly. There was power behind his movements, an authority few managed in Kiowata form, and a strength that was more than just muscles. Ezra sighed and shook his head.
Showed him my abilities, too. Why? Why let the man in on this secret? Why show him a weak spot?
He could have left and disappeared in any number of towns, on any number of occasions. He hadn�t. Ezra didn�t know where this sudden sense of loyalty came from, what inspired it, but ever since their chance meeting, something had changed within him.
Then unchange it, the biting voice in his head demanded. Do you really think you can help Larabee? What will happen if the impossible happens and you contact his team? They will come, take him away, lock you up and throw away the key! He is a god-damned officer of the law! Can it get any worse? Can you screw up any more?
Ezra blinked, lowering his eyes. He studied the blade of grass he was twisting in his fingers. Something inside of him fought the acidic remarks, reminded him that this man depended on him. Chris was all alone, completely on his own, just like himself. He couldn�t turn his back and go.
And what�s in it for you?
Chris raised his head from where he was grazing and those dark eyes met Ezra�s for a moment. The thief didn�t know if Larabee had picked up on anything that was going through his mind. The Bond was a fickle thing. He was convinced it wasn�t telepathy and that Chris was unable to sense anything, but there was a nagging doubt deep inside.
It�s because of what you are. You brought this onto yourself, Borderline!
But Ezra realized that there was a lot more to it all.
What do you get out of this for Ezra Standish? the voice whispered more insistently.
He bit his lower lip.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
* * *
Days went by faster than he could count. Chris sometimes lost track of time completely, living from day to day, relaying on Ezra to get them somewhere safe every night, even if it was under the stars. They were crossing unsettled plains and saw fewer and fewer farms. Standish was always alert, saw things that slipped by Chris, and he constantly monitored their environment. Despite his prior exclamations, Chris had formed a bond of trust with the enigmatic thief. Ezra Standish was the only person he could rely on and even if he was on the wrong side of the law, currently it did get them fed and watered. The thief took care of a lot of things for both of them, even down to the morning and evening routine of brushing Chris down and checking the hooves for stones of injuries. In the beginning, Chris had balked at the very idea. After a while he had started to relax into the strong, even strokes of the brush. It felt good and it left him with a peaceful feeling afterwards. He would never tell Ezra, but he suspected Standish knew anyway.
They had to hide Chris�s nature, so Ezra had done something ingenious. Those Kiowata owners who wanted their mounts to keep their splendid horns had them tagged and nails driven deep into the base of the horns. It had almost the same effect as clipping them, but it was also more dangerous. If the nail hit the wrong area it could kill the animal, or not tame it. And if pulled out, the Kiowata would go wild again. Faking the nails had been easy. The tag had been another matter.
Chris snorted to himself. The tag had been painful because it had to be punched through the ear. A small, silver knob near the base of his right ear. A brief pain, but one hell of an experience. He had nearly trodden on Ezra when his partner had performed the tagging.
Summer changed into Autumn, which was usually quite a short affair in this part of the country. Ezra had acquired a warm blanket, winter clothes and several more items he would need to be comfortable in the last town they had passed through. Chris's coat was growing denser as the Kiowata body prepared for the colder temperatures as well. Whenever they came across a settlement or town Ezra rented stable space for the nights they remained in town. They would need a more permanent residence soon. The winter would get a lot colder before it let up.
After Chris's emotional explosions, matters had suddenly become quieter. Chris was calmer. His temper was still there, but he had control over himself again and Ezra found that Commander Chris Larabee was a rather likable person if he didn't try to push him into doing something that went against everything Ezra believed in. Every time that happened, his stubbornness collided with Larabee's, and tempers flared. Chris was able to knock Ezra off-center with astonishing precision and he used it now and again. Still, everything had mellowed a little. The confrontations were no longer as biting and harsh as before. Acceptance had settled in.
The landscape around them changed, became more inhospitable, and there were less and less bushes, trees or grass. Chris first became aware of the developing situation when Ezra returned from a farm they had passed, carrying nothing but a small sack full of what smelled like grain. It was an important addition to his diet since the grass and other plants he could find weren't very nourishing. Ezra would buy as much as he could at every stop in addition to the food he needed for himself. As he now returned to their small camp, which was hidden in a crops of trees to keep others from seeing Chris, he wordlessly dropped his bundle and went about setting up his bedroll.
The Kiowata urged Chris to feed and he followed his instincts. Ezra got a small fire going, but he didn't eat.
"I had something at the farm," the thief answered as he stirred the flames with a stick. "Very nice couple who owns it." He flashed Chris a dimpled grin. "The pie itself was fantastic, even though I had to steal it."
<What?!>
An indignant look graced the smooth features. "You want me to waltz in and tell them I need Kiowata food? On foot? In the middle of nowhere. How should I explain that?"
Chris munched on the last of the corn. He knew it was their only alternative to openly showing themselves, and Ezra had vehemently argued against it.

But things didn't change. Ezra 'acquired' grain for him from somewhere, declared he had had his share of food, and then continued to make camp and refuse to talk to Chris about it any more. What made Chris suspicious was the lack of appetite in the morning as well, and except for the stray berry bush they came across, he never saw Ezra eat much. If at all. Game was scarce, too.
They were crossing the Divide now, a stretch of land that was as lifeless as an asteroid. The whole landscape seemed to consist more of canyons than anything else. From where Chris stood he saw a desolate vista of bare rocks and jagged hills, through which whistled a savage wind that tugged at him. Dark clouds churned overhead threatening rain, but the ground beneath him was deeply dry. Only dust rode the wind, sometimes thick enough to envelop him and obscure his vision, sometimes just creeping along the ground to wrap around his ankles like smoke. Occasionally it hid the distant horizon. The valley that lay spread out beyond him was huge and staggeringly rough, as if a long-ago river had churned violently along the plain, eating it away in huge gulps.
In the days they spent in this loneliness, Ezra had grown more silent. Chris wasn't a conversationalist to begin with; Ezra usually talked. But now, the silence stretched between them and sometimes, Chris thought Ezra wasn't even there. Maybe he was coming down with something. He kept himself bundled up in his thick coats all the time.
They made it out of the Divide after several days, Chris feeling exhausted and at the end of his strength. The terrain had been rough enough to trouble him quite severely. Ezra hadn�t spoken a word since the day before and stubbornly clung to the saddle. Across the Divide lay more hospitable grounds. There was water, more plant life, and even some game.
That was when they ran into trouble. Chris had been aware of predators in the area a long time before they actually saw one. His Kiowata side had kept him minutely informed about movement of prowlers, but none had ever attacked them. He suspected that a Kiowata was too large for them. The predators he had briefly seen were about the size of a large dog, though that was where the likeness with the Earth mammal stopped. They were armored, not covered in fur, and their eyes held no pupils. He suspected they were too scared of his size to really strike. How wrong he had been was proven to Chris when the silence of the morning was broken by a sudden yell.
<Ezra?>
There was a turmoil of fragmented emotions hitting Chris through the ever-developing link, but he didn't need it to stir him into action. Ezra had gone down to the near-by river to get the cantines refilled and, as he had put it, wash the daily dust off him. Pounding through the thin group of trees Chris emerged onto the broad river banks. The river itself had narrowed due to the decreasing temperatures and the fact that the mountains were already snow-capped.
What he saw made his mind freeze. Ezra lay near the water, face down, the cantine beside him where it had been thrown. His shirt was ripped and there were flecks of blood. Beside him stood one of the prowlers he had only fleetingly seen now and then. It was larger than the others, much larger than a normal dog, and the yellow eyes swiveled to take in the new threat the large Kiowata presented.
<Ezra!> Chris yelled.
His ears lay flat against his head, he was baring his teeth and sharp hooves danced over the pebbled surface. The predator gave him a curious look, sharp claws too close to Ezra's head for Chris's comfort.
<Get away from him> he snarled, well knowing that the thing couldn't hear him. <He's mine!>
Scaly looking ears pricked forward and the elongated head tilted. A rumble emerged the sharp snout. <Yours?>
Chris did a double-take, suppressing the Kiowata instinct to flee. <You can hear me?>
<Of course I can> The voice was hoarse, barely human, and had a strange accent to it. <So he is yours?>
<Yes, mine!> Chris moved closer, all muscles tense, ready to react to whatever the creature did next.
Surprisingly enough, it moved away from the prone form. <He is weak>
<He is human> Chris snapped. <Get away from him! Now!>
<You would fight me over his possession?> the rough voice sounded intrigued.
<Yes> Larabee answered without thinking, feeling the stunning realization seep into his mind. Yes, he would fight that thing. <He is my partner>
<He is weak> the prowler repeated. <Otherwise I would not have chosen him>
Chris felt a rumble escape his throat. <Too frightened to take on a larger opponent?> It was out before he had time to think about it. He moved closer to Ezra, the smell of blood now invading his nostrils.
A raspy sort of laughter echoed through his mind. 
Chris froze. Ezra had no death wish....
<Or haven't you noticed? His system is weakened, he is undernourished>
The words cut into him and he felt a wave of denial flood him, but they also confirmed his worst suspicion. <No....> he managed.
More laughter. 
<He's not dying!> Chris stopped next to Ezra, willing him to move, but there wasn't even a twitch.
<If you say so, Kiowata> The predator moved away. <But he is weakening>
Chris glared more. <Who are you?> he demanded.
<My kind has no name. Be glad I'm not hungry enough to accept your challenge. The next one who claims your human friend might not be so gracious> With that the scaly creature disappeared into the forest.
Chris's mind whirled. Ezra... undernourished... weak... Why hadn't he seen it? All the signs had been there! He hadn't eaten anything but a few gathered berries in the last days. How long before that had it started. And why? He bent his head and gently nudged the prone form.
<Ezra?> he inquired. <Please, answer me!>
A soft groan could be heard and Ezra's left arm twitched. Chris nudged him again. This time there was a mumble.
<Ezra?>
Standish rolled slowly onto his back, a grimace of pain evident on his face. Green eyes cracked open and Chris saw the pain reflected in there as well. Now that he really looked at him, he discovered how bad Ezra actually looked. His features were drawn, almost hollow, and his skin pale.
<Can you get up?>
"Yeah," came the barely audible reply and Standish tried to get to his knees. He didn't make it and simply contended himself by sitting there. His arms went protectively around his middle, pulling the remains of his shirt closed.
<Ezra...?>
"I'm fine!" the thief snapped, shivering in the cool air.
Chris blew a warm breath onto his neck, making him shiver even more. <How badly are you hurt?>
"Just a scratch. I knocked myself out when that thing barreled into me. Where did it go?"
There was a fearful note in his voice and Chris felt protective instinct flare. He squelched it for now. <It left>
Ezra stared at the softly gurgling river.
<Why did you do it, Ezra?>
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Anger rushed through him, but Chris forced himself to remain calm. <You are seriously undernourished! I haven't seen you eating since... since... a long time ago!>
"I'm fine."
The cold green eyes fixed him with a dangerously icy expression. Chris almost bodily moved away. He stomped angrily instead, spraying pebbles everywhere. <Stop lying, Standish!>
Ezra's eyes flared with barely contained fury, giving them more life than they had held in the past days. He swayed to his feet, still clutching the torn clothes around his shaking body.
"Leave me alone, Larabee!"
<No, I won't! You stole grain for me, but neglected yourself! I want to know why!>
"I don't owe you any explanations, Commander."
<The hell you do!>
"You are not my keeper," Ezra defiantly met the angry Kiowata.
<No, I'm not! I thought I was your friend, Ezra> Chris forced himself to soften his voice.
Suspicion warred with indifference.
<Why?> he pressed again.
"If you have to know, because stealing any more would have aroused suspicion! Because I had no money to buy anything else!" Ezra shot back.
That wasn't exactly what he had expected. Not at all. Chris snorted in stunned surprise, dancing back and forth. <What....?>
Flat green eyes met his. "We are out of money! The last I had went the way of it all: I spent it on food. We didn't hit any larger settlement lately, remember? I couldn't actually play a game or two!"
<So you stole grain?>
"Yes!" Ezra ground out. "I stole your food rations! So sue me!"
<Why not money?>
Standish evaded his penetrating gaze. "We weren't that bad off," he muttered.
Not so bad off? Not so bad...?! Chris tried to wrap his mind around those words, flailing to understand the reasoning. Realization hit him. Ezra hadn't stolen from people who couldn't afford losing money. He had taken a little for the Kiowata, nothing for him, and he had simply urged them on to the next farm or whatever they could find.
<Why steal only for me, Ez?> he inquired softly, coming closer again. 
The dark head shook slowly. "No. Well, yes, you could live off the grass and bushes, but it's not enough. You'd go hungry out here soon."
 Chris tried lightly.
"You don't understand," the thief sighed.
<Then explain>
"Kiowata are animals. You are a human mind in an animal's body that has the strong basic instincts of its host. The moment the hunger is too great, the Kiowata will take over. You'll revert, even though you are still yourself, Mr. Larabee. Kiowata emotions like fear, pain and hunger would erase your human side."
Chris looked down at the bowed head. He had first pegged the man as self-serving, only looking out for his welfare. Then he had changed his mind because Ezra had done a few rather dangerous and wild things to keep Chris safe, too. Now that. The fledgling loyalty from months ago had turned into a fierce protective instinct, strong enough to give up on a lot of commodities to take care of the Kiowata entrusted to him.
Ezra suddenly turned away and laboriously walked up the river bank, clutching his tattered clothes. Chris followed, thoughts whirling. Why had Ezra done this for him? Why? Did he feel obliged? Was it some kind of scheme?
Stop it! a voice insisted. Stop second-guessing him, stop having misgivings, stop suspecting him! You told him you see him as a friend, so start acting like one!
Ezra stumbled and nearly fell. The link between them vibrated and it was the first time Chris was so very much aware of it. He concentrated on the connection and felt Ezra's emotions raging across it, muted somehow, but still a torrent of contradicting waves. Quickening his steps, he pulled up next to him and silently offered a shoulder. Standish was too exhausted and tired to fight it. He laid a hand on the warm flank and let Chris lead him back to camp.
<Do you have any food at all left?> the Kiowata asked softly, gently nudging the unresisting man.
Ezra shook his head, not bothering to answer. He kept his head bowed, still leaning against the warmth Chris's body presented. Chris gazed thoughtfully at him, trying to grasp why a man he had pictured as self-serving if it came to a tie, had sacrificed so much for him. No answer would come.
<Ezra? You have to eat something and all we have left is some Kiowata food and the grass that grows around here> he lowered his head and his breath disturbed the fine hair on the bowed head. <Change>
Ezra looked up, exhaustion clear in his eyes. "You can't be serious," he murmured.
<It's all we have and you need your strength back>
"We can backtrack to the last farm we passed."
<You stole from them, Ez. It's too dangerous>
"Wasn't thinking about revealing myself." The thin shoulders trembled.
<Change> Chris insisted. <We can stay here for a while. Plenty of water, enough grass>
"Not enough. Chris, didn't you listen? You'll probably end up a schizophrenic!" Some fire came back into Ezra's eyes.
<Okay, then we'll make a deal: you change and feed, then we'll move on to the next settlement or town. When you go in to steal food, you'll get some for you, too> Chris put as much sternness in his voice as he could.
The thief's mouth curled into a sarcastic smile. "You are actually encouraging me to steal, commander?"
Chris glared, but the sensation across the link was amusement. <Change> he ordered.
Ezra met the dark eyes, battling against the silent urging across the link, his own need to eat something, and finally he surrendered. Chris chalked it up to the weakness of near-starvation. When his friend was finally in his alternate form, Chris was close to yelling at him again. Lord, he was thin. Why hadn't he noticed the weight loss?
<Feed!> he growled, angry at himself as much as he was at Ezra.
Ezra gave a mental sigh and chewed on some grain, then proceeded over to the clearing between the trees were some of the grass still looked edible. Chris watched him, each move and twitch, silently berating himself for not seeing it all before. The question as to why Ezra had done it kept rebounding in his head. He'd probably never get an answer to it.
* * *
Winter came quickly and with it the blizzards and icy cold that was to be expected. Travel was harder now. Sudden drops of temperature, blocked ways through fallen trees, rainstorms and floods forced them to make a lot of detours. The sometimes deep snow robbed both Kiowata and rider of their energies and finally Ezra decided that they would have to spend the winter somewhere inside. The trees were barely any buffers against the wind and finding camp grounds was increasingly hard. The land was frozen over and it was time to hole up somewhere.
Chris and Ezra reached Wand, a prospering town just at the foot of a mountain range, two days after that decision. By now, it was cold enough to crystallize every breath of air and Chris�s mane was frosted over. Both were relived to finally be out of the biting cold. Like all towns and settlements, Wand was made up out of mismatched houses out of stone, wood and corrugated steel. Some looked like transformed trailer homes. There was running water, electricity and plumbing, an independent generator, as well as back-ups, and it was the center of commerce for this part of the country.
It was in Wand that Ezra received the first reliable piece of information he needed, though they couldn't act on it. The man they were looking to get in contact with, a rich breeder called Guy Royal, had his lands on the other side of the mountains. With the snow and cold, it was impossible to cross. They joined the countless people who were waiting for the ice to thaw and the passes to open. The town was throbbing with life and Ezra seemed to open up like a flower in the sun.
Chris watched his partner with growing amusement. Standish had secured him a stable box, which Chris was thankful for, and he had a room in the local boarding house. He spent the time they were stuck here gambling, lifting money off those who were foolish enough to engage in a game of chance with him.
Ever since the latest altercation, the link had developed further and it allowed Chris to hover in the back of Ezra's mind, watching, listening and, sometimes, commenting. It had been vague awareness before, but now it was a pleasantly warm feeling that was wrapped around his mind. Their relationship had changed and both felt it.
*
The season took its time. Some of the mountain men who regularly crossed the pass commented that it was one of the worst weather conditions they had seen in ages, which did nothing to raise Ezra�s hope of getting out of Wand soon. Chris was sometimes restless and they would take short rides around the countryside to get rid of his nervous energy. While the Kiowata was an eye catcher, no one really showed any interest in him. There were more of them in town than either Chris or Ezra had seen in a long time, most of them clipped. The rest, like Chris, had been tagged.
The weather changed right after the new year. The ever-present snow turned into rain, and the biting cold became more bearable. The normally empty streets began to fill with a bit more life, and a lot more mud.

Ezra was woken by a panicked yell through the link.
"Chris?" he blurted.
Larabee was trying to reach him and his words were interspaced with animalistic fear. Ezra knew the instincts of a Kiowata, that they could drown out the human side, could shatter logical thinking. He didn't need an explanation to spring into action. He left his room where he had slept for about two hours after a long game and braved the increasing wind outside. Rain drizzled down on him. The stables were not far from the boarding house and he quickly arrived inside, where he discovered the reason for Chris' panic.
Two men were trying to pull the black Kiowata out of his box. One had managed to get a rope around the strong neck, another was hitting the panicking animal to make him obey the orders.
"Shit!" one man, a thin, rat-faced blond cursed. "Devilish bastard!"
Ezra tried to tune out the unintelligent screams in his head. Chris reared again, catching the second man, a long-haired, uncombed individual, off guard. He quickly grabbed onto the rope that was biting into the black coat, tugging.
"Get me one of them dopes, Reeves!" he yelled.
Reeves, the rat-faced one, turned to reach for a bag laying discarded on the ground when he discovered Ezra. He froze.
"Let him go," Ezra said calmly, aiming his gun at the two.
Rat-face shot his partner a questioning look as he slowly straightened.
"Hey, can we talk about it?" the unwashed one asked, sounding greasy. "We can split, y'know. He'll get us a right amount o'money."
Ezra smiled coldly, his aim unwavering.
"I have no intention of selling this fine steed, gentlemen."
Reeves spluttered. "He's yours?"
"Yes. Now please leave him alone."
Chris was tensely watching the scene unfold, ears flat on his head, eyes rolling. He was breathing hard. The rope was still around his neck and Ezra could see rope burn where it had bitten too deeply.
"Then how about ya'd give 'im to us," a third voice suddenly said.
"I severely doubt that, sir," Ezra answered levelly, no sign of fear in his voice. He heard the third man approach and his two companions broke out in grins. Ezra heard the tell-tale click of a safety taken off a projectile weapon
"Maybe we hafta convince ya then."
"I doubt I'll change my opinion."
Grins blossomed on the unshaved faces of the two he could see. "Yer mighty cocky, boy."
"And you are very unwashed, sir," Ezra deadpanned.
<Ezra> Chris groaned in exasperation. His thought processes had apparently normalized and there were only faint echoes of the former panic in his mind-voice.
Ezra suddenly ducked and swung his weapon arm up, surprising the man behind him as he was knocked into the jaw. He stumbled back and Standish delivered a kick with his foot, effectively disarming them. The others charged and Ezra deflected the first blow easily, bringing up his fists and punching one man in the nose. Roaring like a wounded bull, he staggered back, blood flowing copiously out of his, obviously broken, nose. Reeves struck out with the stick he had used to beat Chris into submission and caught Ezra in the jaw. Pain exploded in his head and as he fell back, he was suddenly grabbed in a tight hold by the third man, who was snarling obscenities into his ears. The goon pinned his arms behind his back, but Ezra didn't give up easily.
He lashed out with one foot and caught Rat-face above the knee. There was a satisfying crunch and a pained yell as Rat-face went down, clutching his leg. The remaining of the two thieves didn't give Ezra a chance to repeat the maneuver.

Chris knew he had lost control when the two thieves had tried to get him out of the box, using ropes and sticks. The Kiowata side had panicked, had tried to get away, while the human side had fought to get a message through to Ezra. Now he was in control again, the searing pain had stopped, and he was able to catch a clear thought. And he had to help Ezra.
He charged Ezra's attackers, the Link ablaze with the pain he felt from his friend. The attackers had gotten in some good punches and Ezra was too dazed to resist much longer. Chris would repay them in kind. Yelling, they scrambled for safety as the huge animal attacked them, but there was no real safety in the stable. The one who had been working Ezra over was kicked, and Chris heard with satisfaction as ribs broke. The third, who had held his partner, pushed the limp form toward the charging Kiowata and Chris was just quick enough not to trample him
"Let's get out of here!" the apparent boss hissed. "He's more trouble than it's worth!"
They fled, limping and crawling, and Chris stood in the middle of the stable, snorting, breathing hard. As his mind cleared from the rage, he felt Ezra's weak presence and he turned. Standish lay curled up on the hay covered floor, eyes screwed shut, half his face covered in blood.
<Ezra?> Chris probed.
There was no reply.
<Ezra, can you hear me?> He stepped closer and lowered his head, nudging the man gently.
"I'm fine," came the thick reply.
<Right> Chris muttered, tossing his head once. <Can you get up?>
Ezra uncurled, but one arm was still wrapped protectively around his ribcage.
<Grab on>
Ezra reacted automatically as the strong neck was lowered and he tried to get his feet under him as Chris pulled him up. He yelped as bruised ribs protested the movement, and fell heavily against the warm body, hands clutching the black mane tightly. Tremors raced through him and tears stung his eyes. Chris felt it all and he tried to send back reassurance. They made it back to the open box where Ezra fell heavily onto the hay. He groaned again, eyes screwed shut.
<That was stupid> Chris said softly, keeping a close eye on his stubborn partner.
"Oh?" Ezra sounded faint, but also lightly amused. "I thought it was a good idea. Those miscreants were about to steal you."
Larabee chuckled, nudging him gently to lay down. <Anything broken?>
"Everything," came the groaned reply.
<Get some rest>
"Yes, sir."
<But don't fall asleep. You might have a concussion>
"'m fine."
<Sure, Ez> Chris nudged him gently.
Outside the storm grew in intensity. There was no chance of Ezra getting any medical help in this weather.
<Talk to me>
"'bout what?"
<Anything>
Green eyes cracked open and looked up at the Kiowata standing over him. "Want to hear the story of my life, Commander Larabee?" he joked weakly.
<If you want to>
A sigh. "Nothing much to tell."
The Kiowata pricked his ears. <How long have you been on this planet?> he inquired.
�Too long. A year, I think.�
<Always human?>
�More or less. Spent a few weeks as a Kiowata, even after I discovered who I really was. Stole the clothes I needed and then set out to make enough money to get off-world.� Ezra slowly shook his head. �I never really made enough. When I ran into you, I was having a streak of luck at the local gambling halls. The clientele objected to that and accused me of cheating.�
<Did you?>
Ezra shot him an offended look. �My dear sir, I don�t have to cheat to win against those ruffians out here. Their gambling talent is abysmal.�
Chris chuckled at the outrage in the green eyes. <Where would you go if we make it off this planet?> he inquired.
The amusement fled out of the expressive eyes and Ezra played with a strand of hay. �I don�t know,� he said after a while, voice so soft Chris had to strain to hear him.
Outside, the rain beat onto the roof in an ever-increasing staccato.
* * *
Chris was surprised how fast Ezra healed throughout the stormy night. When dawn came, the thief staggered to his feet, rubbing his still sore ribs.
"Comes with the territory," Standish explained as Chris inquired, not meeting his eyes.
<You mean because you're Borderline?>
A nod answered him. "Defective genes," Standish mumbled.

The younger man just snorted and walked over to the doors to peer outside. It was still raining and the street was a river of mud. People were hurrying over the wooden boardwalks and no one was outside longer than necessary. Chris walked over and stopped behind Ezra. His breath disturbed the fine hair on the brown head.
<Are you okay?> he inquired.
Standish nodded, eyes gazing thoughtfully at the dreary town outside where two horsemen were urging their mounts toward the saloon, where they descended and left the animals at the hitching post.
"A bit sore, nothing else."
 Chris told him softly.
Ezra only smiled.

"Your instincts kicked in and overruled your human side," Ezra finished, shrugging. "That's normal. Kinda."
He ran his eyes over Chris and frowned as he discovered the wounds from last night's encounter. He reached out and gently touched the rope burn. Chris flinched away at first, then forced himself to stand still.
"Hurts?"
<A bit> he confessed.
Ezra palpated the deepest cut carefully and Chris suppressed a groan.
The back doors opened and interrupted them as the stable boy hurried in from the cold and rainy outside. He shook off excess water, then stopped as he discovered Ezra. The thief still bore the bruises in his face that told of last night's encounter and Chris didn't look much better.
"Uh, what happened here, mister?" the boy asked. He couldn't be much older than fifteen.
"Three unsavory characters tried to steal my mount last night," Ezra explained.
The boy's eyes widened. "Do you want me to call the sheriff?"
"No, that won't be necessary. I doubt they'll try something similar any time soon. What's your name, son?"
"Marc Boder, sir."
"Well, Marc, my Kiowata was injured and I need some salve. Is there a doctor in town?"
Marc shook his head. "No, never had a horse doctor, but I have some stuff. I trade with one of the farmers to treat animals with similar injuries."
He darted off toward a wooden cabinet and rummaged around. Ezra radiated surprise at the boy's medical supplied and Chris watched the teenager curiously.
"He's beautiful," Marc said as he handed over the salve, gazing at Chris.
"Yes, he is."
Chris gave a little snort and poked Ezra through the connection.
"You didn't clip him."
Ezra opened the pot and sniffed at it. It smelled of herbs. "I wouldn't do that to such a magnificent animal."
"Then how do you get him to let you mount?" Marc asked curiously.
"Let's say we came to an understanding, a mutual agreement about a partnership." Ezra dipped a finger into the creamy substance and then carefully smeared the salve onto the rope burns and cuts.
Chris twitched. The salve was cool and pleasant, but the wounds still hurt.
"Shhhh," Ezra murmured almost automatically, his voice soft.
"Mr. Monroe from the farm said it's ansis... antipectic.... Something," Marc told him.
"Antiseptic," Ezra helped him, smiling.
"And it soothes the pain."
He nodded, finished with the neck wounds and moving on to the marks the stick had left on Chris's legs and backside. Chris tossed his head, snorting as Ezra treated a deep cut that had oozed blood.
"Almost done," Ezra murmured gently.
<Damnit, that stings!>
"I know, I know.....>
Marc kept back, watching cautiously but still curious. He was quite in awe of Chris. Ezra finished with the salve and handed it back to Marc.
"Is there any way I can purchase such medicines anywhere?" he asked, wiping his hands.
"No. You can't reach the farm in this weather and Mr. Monroe won't be back till the end of winter." Marc played with the jar, then held it out to Ezra. "You can have it."
The thief looked at the stable boy in surprise. "I can't take it, Marc. You might need it for other injured Kiowata."
"I have enough other stuff, sir. Yours will really need it. No other injured I know of in here." He smiled tentatively. "You said he deserves to be treated well."
Ezra was truly stunned and he quickly dug out some coins. "Then let me pay you for it."
Marc shrugged. "I traded it for two night's rent. 's not much...."
Ezra pushed the money into the smaller hands. "Keep the change," he said, smiling.
"Uh, thanks," the boy managed.
"I'll be over at the restaurant, getting breakfast. Will you take care of my mount?"
Marc shot the large, black Kiowata a half-frightened look.
"He won't bite." Ezra reach over and touched the muscular neck, unconsciously rubbing it in a soothing pattern.
"Okay," Marc said slowly.
Ezra fastened the halter around Chris's head and led him over to the box.
*
They were stuck in the town for the next days. Chris couldn't wear a saddle without making his injuries worse, and Ezra didn't want to risk leaving in the muddy conditions anyway. Many had left already, since rumors that the pass was open had circulated. So Standish spent a lot of time alternating between the stables and the saloon, where he had some irregular meals and played cards with whoever challenged him.
Two weeks after the attack, they finally left. Chris�s injuries had long since healed, but Ezra had insisted that they wait. Spring brought with it sudden floods, unstable mountain sides and slippery roads. The saddle bags were filled with provisions and money, and he had bought enough supplies to last them till they were across the pass.
* * *
Ezra knew he would never forget the following days. What had started out as a simple ride across the mountains was about to decline into a nightmare. They had enough supplies to last them to the other side. Two weeks was the estimated time and there was enough game to hunt and enough fresh grass before reaching the summit so Chris didn�t depend solely on the grain Ezra had packed. The mountains had once been an active volcano, someone in town had told the thief, so there were shallow pools of steaming hot water hidden between the rock formations, a point to rest and warm up in the cold days, or even to spend the night. The days were mostly sunny and warm. The sun shone high in the blue cloudless sky. At night, they sought out sheltered areas and Ezra always lit a large fire. Now and then, snowflakes would drift down throughout the night since the temperature still dropped to rather uncomfortable levels. In his thick coat and warm boots, Ezra felt little cold, and whenever they could, they stayed near one of the steaming pools.
After the third day on the trail, Ezra started to notice a change of behavior in Chris. His partner had grown more restless lately, not eating much, he was wordlessly complaining about something he didn�t even know what it was, and while Ezra was having a cold lunch, he repeatedly tried to bite into the saddle straps.
�Chris?� Ezra inquired. �What�s wrong?�
It couldn�t be the saddle. It wasn�t any tighter than usual and Chris had long since grown used to it. He got no clear answer, only the feeling that the saddle was wrong.
�Okay, calm down. I�ll take it off.� He keep his voice soft and quickly undid the straps. As he did so, Ezra noticed a fine sheen of sweat on the dark coat.
Chris danced away, pawing more, then suddenly lowered himself to the ground and started to roll. A flash of pain raced through the link and Ezra winced as it stabbed into his head.
�Chris?�
The worry bloomed a tenfold and he watched as Chris jumped up again, nostrils wide, breathing hard. The pain was increasing and Ezra gave a yelp, hands pressing against his temples.
�Chris!�
The spooked Kiowata stared at him, frightened, obviously in a lot of pain, and his respiratory rate increased.
�Shhhh,� Ezra soothed him, trying to ignore the pulsing pain behind his eyes. He grabbed the halter and turned Chris�s head so he was looking at the wide, brown eyes. �Shhhh��
Reacting to his voice, the Kiowata stood still, but he still pawed as if nervous. Ezra ran a hand over the slick neck and then the flank, trailing it over the side and stomach. Chris suddenly whinnied and tried to step away, but Ezra held on.
�Okay,� he murmured. �All�s okay. Shhhh�.. all is fine.�
Inside, his guts twisted in fear. Ezra Standish had been around Kiowata long enough to know what they could come down with. He had been one himself, for crying out loud, still had the ability to shift, and with it came an understanding for the problems such an animal could face. While they were sturdier than horses, they could suffer from the same illnesses. Leaving one hand pressed against the abdominal area, Ezra could almost bodily feel the spasms racing through his friend. Chris whinnied again, pawing more violently. He was becoming severely agitated.
God no, Ezra thought. Colic. It can�t be!
Something must have been in the supplements he had fed his friend over the last few days. Since the grass up here, while plenty, wasn�t yet as nourishing, Ezra had rationed the grain bought in Wand just before leaving.
Contaminated grain, he thought in despair. Damnit! Contaminated grain!
The thief grabbed the halter and started to walk his partner around, talking softly to him. He knew what to do, but he also realized that he was alone. There was no one qualified around to aide him. Chris�s coat was shining with sweat and his nostrils opened wide as he exhaled. He calmed down somewhat after a while, but Ezra knew it was a false sense of peace. Retrieving his blankets, he put them over the dark back, then started walking more. He felt the human mind behind the Kiowata struggle through the pain, trying to communicate, but it was almost impossible.
�It�s okay,� Ezra murmured. �I know, I know. We�ll get you through this. I know.� He kept up the litany of soothing, calming words as he alternated between walking and standing still.
The Kiowata�s digestive system needed to be set into motion again because that was their main problem. Ezra stopped and gazed at the wide eyes, read and felt the fear, and he rubbed a gentle hand over the strong jaw.
Acupressure, he remembered. It was something he had picked up in one of the many settlements. There had been a healer, someone who worked with alternative methods, and he had once shown one of the farmers how to help his horse with nothing but acupressure. It had been an interesting lesson and Ezra had stayed to watch and learn. Kiowata were equii, but looked different, were larger, but Ezra hoped that Chris might react the same.
�Let�s try this,� he murmured, slender fingers running over the bony crest of one horn and down where the black hair covered some of it.
�Below the midline of the eyeball in a small depression�, he whispered to himself, applying careful pressure to the point.
Chris snorted, trying to step away, but Ezra held onto the halter.
�It�s okay. Trust me, Chris. It�s okay.�
He had to massage it firmly for one minute, several times, then resume walking.
On the lateral topside of the tibia in line with knee joint, Ezra continued the lesson he had heard in his head. This point increases movement of the intestines.
Ezra continued his treatment, then started to walk Chris again, murmuring encouragement. He knew he couldn�t let him lie down or roll, that movement would help, though too much movement was bad as well. There was nothing against the pain, only the link between them. Ezra was by now suffering from a headache that wouldn�t lessen and he knew it was just a small echo of what Chris was going through. And it was a way of measurement as well. The more the headache increased, the worse Chris was off.
He repeated the acupressure several times, noting that Chris was becoming less agitated, though he was still nervous, still tried to lie down. He allowed him intervals of rest, then they walked again. Night fell quickly and all Ezra did was light small fires, then continued. He rubbed the sweaty coat dry, always calming and soothing with words or gestures. Chris sent wordless questions, unable to voice his fear in a human way. The Kiowata had taken over, frightened, in pain, and confused.
Exhaustion set in around sunrise. Ezra had no idea how much time had really passed until the first fingers of light slipped over the mountains. A thin streak of red was starting to appear, slowly turning into a velvety yellow. The fires had nearly burned down twice throughout the night and he had only stopped in his work to find a few more twigs of wood. In the end only one had kept going. Putting a hand against the abdomen, the thief felt carefully for the tell-tale spasms, relieved to find none.
The headache had receded to a throbbing behind his eyes, but he attributed a lot of it to the exhaustion. The acupressure had seemed to help and while he still wouldn�t allow Chris to feed or drink, he had allowed him to lie down to rest.
Ezra stumbled over to the fire where a pot of coffee sat over the smoldering remnants of the fire. He had no idea how much he had drunk, though if his bladder was any way to measure it, it had been a lot. He ran a tired hand through his mussed up hair and blearily looked over to where Chris had gotten up. The blankets were still on his back, but they were a mess. He had stopped sweating, but the connection between them told Ezra just how much the Kiowata was still dominant. The pain was receding and he prayed there wouldn�t be a relapse.
Getting to his feet, swaying slightly, he walked over to his partner, grabbing hold of the halter. He rubbed the dry coat and applied gentle pressure to the point beneath the eye.
�Last time,� he promised. �You�re okay, Chris. All�s okay. It�s over.�
Never losing contact with the skin, he ran his hand over to the next pressure point. Chris suddenly turned his head, watching him, and Ezra felt a soft warmth at the back of his neck. He was gently nuzzled in an instinctive response. The Kiowata reacted to him as an accepted member of the herd, gently tugging at his collar. Ezra chuckled and automatically reached up, curling one hand around the head. If Chris were in control, he would have a conniption. But he wasn�t. He was having the backseat while he fought for control over the Kiowata body, and Kiowata did what it would have done to another of its kind.
Ezra leaned into the warmth, eyes sliding shut. He swayed, feeling like the ground beneath him was suddenly gone. Eyes snapped open and he held onto the large animal as he nearly collapsed. Sleep deprivation, he realized. But he couldn�t sleep yet. Not before Chris was back, not before he could be sure his friend was in control.
Shaking his head, Ezra straightened, pushing away from the support, only to nearly fall. He gritted his teeth, furiously blinking his eyes.
Move, he decided. He had to move, walk Chris. And he did. For the next thirty minutes it was okay, but his feet were getting increasingly heavier and so were his eyelids. Biting his lower lips so hard it hurt, the thief pushed on.
<Ezra?>
He blinked, shaking his head furiously. Something touched his shoulder and Ezra blearily looked at the black head as a gentle nudge was applied to his shoulder. He automatically stroked the velvety snout, smiling dimly.
�C�mon,� he mumbled. �Just a bit more. Get you back at the steering wheel.�
If the Kiowata felt safe enough, Chris would be able to take control again. The colic had passed, he would be okay, but he had to make sure that Chris was okay as well.
Ezra drew a shuddering breath, trying to walk again, but his body betrayed him. He fell and collided with a strong shoulder. Again, something touched his shoulder, warm air brushing against his cheek.
<Ezra?>
Again. He had heard it before, but his exhausted mind insisted he was dreaming already.
�Chris?� he tried weakly.

Ezra laughed, relief sweeping through him. �Thank you, Lord,� he murmured into the tangled mane. �Thank you.�
He had no idea how he made it over to the by now cold fire, but he did. He didn�t mind the hard ground, nor the smell of the blanket he lay on. He simply collapsed, exhaustion dragging him into a dark, dreamless abyss.

Chris watched his partner as he fell bonelessly onto the blanket, feeling him slide into sleep almost immediately. His recollection of the last twenty-four hours was hazy. He remembered pain, the fear, near-panic, and he remembered the calming voice, the hands massaging specific points. He had latched onto that voice, trying not to drown in his instinctive side. He remembered encouragement, shared suffering, the need to get him through this, and the determination.
I owe you my life; again, he thought. Thank you, Ezra Standish.
*
Ezra woke with a start. One moment he was drifting peacefully through the warm world of semi-consciousness, then he was wide awake. Memories flooded him and he bolted upright, blurting Chris�s name. Wide green eyes looked frantically around the clearing, searching for his partner.
<Here> the well-known voice answered.
Ezra unsteadily got to his feet, shivering in the cool air. He looked disheveled, his face still pale, eyes underlined with dark circles.
�Chris?� he tried carefully.
The Kiowata neighed softly, walking over to him. Chris looked fine in his eyes. His coat was dry, the eyes alert, and he sounded normal. Ezra automatically grabbed a hold of the halter.
�You okay?� he asked.
<Fine> Chris shook his head and Ezra let go of the halter, smiling. <Thanks>
Something passed between them with that simple word, something Ezra was unable to put into words, but he understood. With a nod he turned to the camp, deciding to stay here another night. He didn�t want to put Chris under any kind of strain yet and the camp site was sheltered enough.
�We need to find some fire wood and also some grass for you,� he muttered to himself. �Tomorrow we go on.�
Chris sent his agreement. They didn�t talk about the night again, but there was no need to.
Ezra busied himself with his usual morning rituals, even if it was early afternoon already. He washed in a near-by pond, made coffee and changed into a fresh shirt. Since they would stay here for another night he decided to wash his clothes. It helped to steady his still frazzled nerves. He had come so close to losing Chris and something inside him reacted violently to the mere thought. He didn�t know what it was, but it frightened him nevertheless, and he pushed it as far from his conscious mind as possible.
* * *
�Impressive.�
Chris had to agree. Guy Royal�s ranch was a sprawling, modern building, with large stables next to the mansion-style headquarters. White-washed walls surrounded the estate, trimmed trees and manicured lawns glistening pristinely in the early afternoon sun. A fountain sprayed water into the air and two large statues of rearing Kiowata flanked the main entrance.
It had taken them another two weeks after crossing the mountains to get here. Information about Royal was readily available, but Ezra had to make sure that they were well-prepared for their con. He guided Chris down the well-kept road that led to the estate, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. Chris could feel the tension of the thief and it seemed to seep into him as well. What they were doing was dangerous, deadly, but it was the only way. Royal was not only the person who owned a transmitter that could reach into space; he was also a member of the smugglers and Kiowata dealers. One of the heads, actually.
Chris knew what picture they presented. Ezra, dressed in expensive clothes he had bought from money he had won at the gambling tables, astride on a black Kiowata stallion that still had its horns. It spelled money and power, and Ezra was one hell of a good actor to pull it off. He was radiating self-confidence and money. Standish had invested a lot of time into their appearances. In the last town they had stayed at he had paid a stable boy to polish the saddle, while Ezra himself had taken care of Chris. He didn�t trust anyone else to brush the Kiowata down properly, clean and wax the hooves, as well as untangle the tail and mane. There was always the fear of someone getting too close and discovering the fake nails and tag.
As they approached the large gate, two armed men stepped outside. Ezra wasn�t armed, at least visibly, and he nodded at the two men as he guided his mount through the gate. As he neared the mansion itself, the doors opened and a gray-haired man in expensive clothing stepped outside. Royal, Ezra thought. No doubt about it. The man carried himself with an air of absolute control and the knowledge that nothing could escape his grasp. His clean shaven face was sun-tanned and showed only a few lines. The eyes underneath the gray brows were sharp and intelligent. Ezra knew he had to be careful.
�Ah, Mr. Standish,� Royal called, smiling.
Ezra plastered a friendly smile onto his face. �Mr. Royal. A pleasure to meet you, sir.�
�The pleasure is all mine.� Calculating eyes roamed over Chris and the Kiowata tensed imperceptibly. �Impressive animal you have there, Mr. Standish.�
Ezra got out of the saddle in one fluid motion, resting one hand on Chris�s neck in a calming manner as he felt his friend�s brief surge of emotions.
�Yes, he is. He is part of the business I came here to discuss with you, Mr. Royal.�
Royal nodded, eyes still flickering over to Chris. �Let�s go inside then. My Handlers can take care of your Kiowata.�
�If it�s the same to you, I�d like to take care of him myself. He is my prized possession,� Ezra said smoothly.
�Mr. Standish, you do offend me,� Royal answered with a smile. �My Handlers are the best money can buy. They know their job.�
Ezra knew he had to give in or look suspicious. �You must understand my reluctance,� he told the breeder.
Royal nodded. �Such a fine specimen of a Kiowata justifies your hesitation, but rest assured, he is in good hands.�
While Chris wasn�t overly thrilled to be led away by a stranger, he didn�t react any different from other tamed Kiowata. Ezra shot him a last look, masking it as a calculated once-over of the Handler, then he followed Royal inside.
The mansion was as exquisitely decorated as the outside suggested. Ezra, no stranger to antiques or the finer arts, cast an appreciative eye over the paintings, the delicate statues, the expensive rugs and the clearly select furniture. Royal was a collector, people had told him. What he saw he would get; what he wasn�t given freely he had taken from the owners.
�I have to congratulate you on your taste, Mr. Royal.�
The older man smiled. �Thank you. Would you care for a drink?�
Ezra accepted the offered crystal glass and sniffed at the golden-brown liquid. It was a very old local wine. Expensive, like everything here.
�Now, Mr. Standish. My people have told me you inquired about my person.� Royal sat back in an old, overstuffed armchair, inviting Ezra to do the same with a graceful gesture.
The thief lowered himself onto another armchair, elegantly crossing his legs. �Yes. I was told you would be the person best-suited for my intents and purposes. I believe it will be mutually beneficial.�
Royal raised both brows. �Go on.�
�You saw my steed when I arrived. He is the pride of my collection,� Ezra spun his tale. �He has been in my possession for a while now and have come to appreciate the finer art of the Kiowata spirit. Beautiful animals, very intelligent, and a solid investment into one�s financial future.� He sipped at the expensive wine.
Royal chuckled. �Yes, many have come to realize that.�
�It�s a shame that Kiowata are no longer legally attainable,� Ezra went on, keeping a close eye on the other man. �I had to come this far and spend quite an amount of money to find what I was looking for. My associates and I intend to purchase a stock of Kiowata to breed our own little financial security.�
�Where would you want to breed them?� Royal asked.
Ezra smiled. �My associates have taken care to secure a very remote location for that. Like your humble abode, Mr. Royal.� He made a sweeping gesture.
Royal chuckled. �No one bothers me here, true. No law, no agents. The Joined Governments law enforcement rarely even brushes by this backwater planet.�
�So I have noticed. Thankfully it isn�t the only planet of its kind. To start our own breeding line, I wanted to find some unblemished stock. Not those sold on the black market, beaten into submission and clipped, but the proud spirits they came from.� Ezra swirled the contents of his glass. �My associates are interested in buying a complete herd of twenty-five animals, Mr. Royal.�
The eyes of the breeder lit up. Twenty-five Kiowata were a lot of money. �I am listening.�
Standish curled his lips into a half-smile. Of course he was listening. �I was sent to choose the animals in question if your stock applies to our standards. I would then contact my associates and arrange matters.�
Royal gave him a toothy smile. �I think we will find some fine specimens for you, Mr. Standish, believe me.�
Ezra lifted his glass in a silent toast.
* * *
Ezra had spent most of his time on Royal�s estate wandering around the stables, pretending to inspect the mares and their offspring, as well as the stallions and geldings out in the corrals. He was accompanied by either one of Royal�s assistance or a stable boy. The thief had to confess that Royal had quite a breeding stock of Kiowata. They were all fine animals, with the exception of a few who were destined for medicinal purposes, but when he thought just who they had been, it made him sick to the core. They had been human once, like him, and now they couldn�t even remember their past. And once clipped or tagged, they would never be able to go back to what they had been before.
He hid his disgust well, making pleasant conversation, all the while keeping a close eyes on what was happening around them. The ranch was large, but he knew that the nerve center with all the information they needed was in the estate. Ezra had his chance to get a closer look at the heart of it all when Royal showed him the breeding history, as well as all the data a buyer would need on selected Kiowata.
Pretending to browse through the offered files, the thief made quick mental notes of the security installations and features. While it wouldn�t be easy to get past them, it also wasn�t impossible.

�We need some way to validate our message,� Ezra said thoughtfully as he played with the straps of the saddle. �Otherwise the Agency will think it�s a hoax or something.�
He had come to the stables under the pretense of checking on Chris. Well, it wasn�t so much pretending anyway. He was worried what might happen to his partner while strangers took care of him. They were walking a fine line here and if one of the stable hands discovered that Chris was not tame, their cover would be blown.
Chris flicked one ear. <True>
�Do you have a password or something? A name or code only you could know?� Ezra shot him an inquisitive look.
<Yes, but�>
One eyebrow rose.
 Chris growled. <It�s secret>
Ezra rolled his eyes. �Come on, Chris! That�s childish. You can always change it when they pick you up, right?�
<Right> Chris muttered, not looking happy..
�So?�
More hesitation. <It�s�.> He tossed his head. <Stud poker> he finally ground out.
Ezra stared at him and a sudden twinkle appeared in his eyes. His lips twitched. �Stud poker?� he repeated. �Stud poker!�
<Don�t you dare laugh> Chris growled.
�Stud poker,� Ezra echoed again, valiantly fighting down his laughter.
<Standish!> The Kiowata snorted angrily and advanced on the smaller human.
The thief was having trouble keeping a straight face and nearly doubled over, giggles escaping him. �Stud� poker!�
Chris didn�t know whether to bite him or just ignore the annoying man. In the end he settled for a scathing glare, which didn�t impress Ezra very much. It never did. The thief looked up, mirth in his eyes as he wiped a stray tear away.
�Fitting,� he managed.
<Shut up!>
�And you�re right, no one would suspect it.�

Ezra�s grin grew wider, if possible, and Chris changed the glare from scathing to deadly.
"Beautiful animal."
Ezra turned, his face suddenly wiped of all emotions. It was as if someone had dropped the shutters on the laughter and fun, and the poker face was back. He was surprised that he hadn't heard anyone approach him. The man was about his size, a lot older, and dressed in work clothes. Long, white hair fell loosely over his shoulders.
<Didn't hear him either> Chris sent, clearly as surprised as Ezra.
"You didn't clip him," the old man remarked.
"No," Ezra said slowly. "Might I inquire who you are?"
"My name is Kojay. I work for Mr. Royal. I take care of the Kiowata stables." The old man ran an appraising eye over the black stallion. "You made a fine choice when you bought him, sir."
<Bought him indeed. Stole me is more like it, hm?> Chris teased.
Ezra managed to hide his grin. He shrugged, a neutral expression on his face. Chris flicked the one ear with the annoying tag he had to wear.
Kojay's gaze was unnerving as he looked from Ezra to Chris and back again. He walked over to the Kiowata, completely unafraid of the large animal. He nodded once as he saw the tag, then inspected the fake horn nails. He reached out and ran a hand over the black coat. Chris jumped as the long fingers touched him, giving an involuntary snort. He danced back, flicking his ears.
<Chris?> Ezra asked, worry shooting through him.
<Strange. His touch� I can�t describe it>
"Ah, I see," Kojay murmured. "Interesting. So very rare."
"Pardon me?" Ezra asked warily, instinctively moving closer to Chris.
"You and your Kiowata... you share the Bond. So very rare and never seen so close." The old man kept on nodding. �Still wild.�
"My dear man, you are babbling."
"Am I really?" Kojay's clear eyes met Ezra's and the thief almost recoiled. There was power behind that gaze, a power that seemed to go right through his shields and sought out his unprotected soul.
Chris felt Ezra's reaction to the calculating appraisal and the Kiowata instincts answered. He flattened his ears against his head, a warning snarl escaping his snout. Kojay chuckled.
"Oh yes. Very much a Bond. Close, oh so close. Not yet done, but getting there?"
Ezra fought down his emotions and reigned his control back in. "I don't know what you are implying, but if you are quite done...."
"He is protective of you, isn't he? Such a proud presence, such spirit. Two of a kind, independent, strong and stubborn." The old man sounded like he was talking to himself. "You were destined to meet each other, your souls drew you to their counterparts. You would die for the other, almost did, didn�t you?"
Fear started to gather in Ezra's mind and he felt himself bump into the reassuring warmth of Chris behind him.
"Don't be afraid, young one," Kojay laughed. "I won't hurt you. You secret is safe with me. Be careful, though. Mr. Royal is a greedy man. If he doesn't take to your offers, he will take what is yours. He collects beauty and power. You, dark one, are the embodiment of both."
<How can he know?> Chris whispered.
He couldn't, Ezra decided. He's guessing. Shots in the dark. But every shot had hit dead center.
"Your Bond will grow. It might hurt, it might be difficult, but it is what should be. Take care of each other." Kojay walked off down the corridor that led deeper into the stables.
"He can't know," Ezra whispered, one hand against Chris's shoulder, as if it was all that kept him upright.
<What if he can?>
"Nonsense!" The thief straightened and proceeded to saddle his partner. He fastened the straps with a bit more force than necessary and Chris let him know. "I apologize," he murmured.
Chris looked thoughtfully at him. <What if he can?> he repeated.
Green eyes met hazel ones, but no answer was forthcoming.
* * *
A lone figure crept through the night. It was a shadowy outline in the darkness, noiseless and nearly invisible.
Here we are, Ezra thought and looked around. Security was one of the major factors here. There was no such thing as absolute perfection. Every system had its faults, every program a weakness. All he needed to do was find it. He slid the small backpack he was wearing off his shoulders and opened it. He had invested a lot of their last money into these items, but none of it had been spent in vain, he knew. What he was about to do demanded professionalism.
Using one of the lock picks he silently cracked the door open. There was no alarm and no one was yelling, so he had not been seen yet. Checking briefly to make sure he was still undetected, he slipped through. He wound his way through rooms and hallways, down dimly lit passages and stairways. The estate was huge and while he had acquired some information about its floors and make-up, a lot had left much to desire. No one knew a lot about Royal�s mansion and Ezra had to rely on his instincts.
He ran into a guard once, who didn't see the intruder, and had to pass by a security system twice. No problem so far. Finally he arrived at the correct door, an unmarked gray security door with a complicated looking locking mechanism. Taking the key card he had snatched off Royal out of his pocket, Ezra slid it through the lock and the door clicked open. The room was made up in a simple layout. There was a row of computers to one side, a shelf to the other. Two chairs stood in front of the computer desks and Ezra chose the one closest to him. He quickly switched on the computer, fingers dancing over the keyboard. Ezra was aware of Chris�s presence in the back of his mind, now approaching after he had kept back while the thief had broken through the multiple security devices.
�Bingo.�
He was in. All files were open to him and he immediately set to work, storing compressed files onto a special disk he had carried along. All he would find on the Kiowata, the estate, Royal, his contacts. Everything. Ezra knew he was cutting it close here, but he had to get it all. He couldn�t risk missing a vital piece and because of it Royal might get free.
After what seemed to be a life time, the computer signaled he was done. Logging out of the net, the thief turned to the communication system. The moment he had the com lines open, the presence became more dominant. Ezra pressed his lips together, trying not to fight back. Chris�s agitation at the success was almost as overpowering as his Kiowata instincts when they flared.
�Your turn,� he whispered. He knew he couldn�t really talk to his partner, but Chris would pick it up. Somehow. Not sure how, but it worked.
<Go to U93-Y88, frequency Phi-Delta> Larabee instructed. <Loop the password into it at the beginning and the end>
Ezra didn�t ask, he simply did what he was told. He could wonder about it later. Sending off the message that both hoped would reach the Agency, and the additional attachment as proof, he logged out and quickly made his way back where he had come from. He erased all signs of his presence, setting the locks and security measures back again.
When he finally arrived in the stables, a black wraith sliding through the silence that was only interrupted by soft snorts, barely two hours had passed. He went to Chris�s box without needing lights.
<You did good> Chris whispered in his mind and the large, dark shape moved to let Ezra inside.
�Thanks,� the thief whispered as he could finally stop for a moment. His body was high-strung with adrenaline and he could feel it ebb only slowly. �Haven�t done that in a long time,� he confessed with a shaky smile. �Proves to show you never forget what you�ve been taught.�
Chris regarded him silently, then snorted softly, disturbing the brown hair. <Now?> he asked.
�We leave. Best we can do.� Ezra pushed away from the wall. �They�ll figure out what I did the next time they check the logs. To erase those traces I�d have had to spend more time down there.�
Chris lowered his head, nudging him gently. <What you did was enough, Ezra. More than I ever dared to hope>
The thief raised an eyebrow. �Now you confess in your lack of confidence in me?� he asked, mock-outrage in his low voice.
Chris flicked his ears. <Best time I could think of>
�Mr. Larabee, I�m crushed.� Ezra walked over to the saddles and lifted his off the rack.
He quickly saddled the Kiowata and pulled the halter over the head. Then he led Chris as silently as possible to the back exit of the stables. Around them, the other Kiowata moved sleepily, some peeking curiously out of their boxes. As he closed the doors behind them, Chris suddenly stiffened and Ezra felt some kind of warning tingle of another presence close by. He whirled around and found a shadowy figure approach.
�Do not be afraid,� a soft voice whispered.
He recognized it immediately. �Kojay.�
The old man bowed, his mile barely visible on his features. �Take the route through the woods and the mountains,� he advised. �Don�t stop till you reach Darber�s Crossing. He won�t follow you there. Too dangerous.�
�Why are you helping us?� Ezra asked quietly.
Kojay smiled mysteriously, then turned and walked off into the darkness. Chris sent wordless puzzlement, but Ezra tried not to ponder it all too much. They had to get out of here. He swung up into the saddle and they rode off as quietly as possible.

They were followed, but true to Kojay�s words, the hunting part turned back to Royal�s estate after Chris and Ezra had passed Darber�s Crossing. From now on, all they could do was wait and keep a low profile. Ezra went into the next few towns alone, always disguised, never staying long. He didn�t gamble at any of the promising halls and he stole as much as he could get away with. The space port wasn�t very far, but they moved in random circles, Ezra keeping an ear on the ground to listen to the rumor mill. If an Agency ship landed, they would hear it.
Two weeks after leaving Royal�s estate grounds, Ezra stumbled over an abandoned trailer. It sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by ancient trees, and there was a spring near-by.
�Not much,� he remarked as he exited the contraption.
Chris snorted. �But better than the open sky.�
The weather had turned into spells of cold rain and wind. It had grown increasingly uncomfortable outside. Ezra nodded slowly.
�It�ll have to do.�
Now he sat in the old trailer, listening to the creaks and groans of the aluminum and plastic as another storm battered it. Chris was huddling, head down, in the shack next to it. His thick coat was protecting him from the worst, but Ezra still felt bad about being unable to do more. The old generator was working, though rather unreliably, and they had electricity, but in this weather it was almost impossible to get any warmth out of it.
He gazed out of the smeared windows that were beaten by the heavy rain. Neither of them wanted to ponder what would happen if the message hadn�t gotten through.

Continued in Section Two
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