CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aiden

“S o you have actually slept with him, then?” Bryce asked me, two days later. We were having coffee in the same café where I’d had lunch with Kade, who was currently at home, weeding my small garden beds.

I flushed, all the justifications for it suddenly sounding weak. The fact that I felt the need to justify it at all was already a red flag. “Yeah. I mean, to a certain extent, yeah,” I mumbled.

“I don’t need the details,” Bryce interrupted me, with a dismissive wave of his hand. We’d known each other for years, and he was one of my closest friends from the base, but that didn’t mean he wanted descriptions of my sex life. “But did his mood improve afterwards?”

I’d spent the last half an hour explaining to Bryce my intention to figure out why the dimari kept killing themselves, and to find a way to prevent it in Kade. And thankfully, Bryce had so far not said anything to crush my determination. “It’s really hard to tell,” I said, in answer to his question. “He seemed to enjoy it at the time. I mean, genuinely enjoy it, not just put on a show for the sake of keeping me happy. But he gets stressed again every time I do something that doesn’t fit with his expectations of what a master is supposed to do. His way of thinking is so different from ours. His only goal seems to be to please his master, to the extent that he doesn’t have any desires of his own. That just makes no sense to me. He insists that sex is a reward, but that just doesn’t work in all circumstances. Humans like eating cake, right? But there are plenty of times when we don’t want cake. Cake for breakfast every single day? No, thank you. Cake when I’ve got a bout of gastro and I’m going to throw up if I eat anything? Hell, no. But how do you tell the difference with someone who refuses to give you their opinion on anything? And more to the point, what type of sex does he want?” I’d lowered my voice, not needing any of the nearby customers to overhear our conversation. “Not everyone likes taking it up the ass. What if he wants to top one day? What if he’d ended up with a master who really liked bondage, but he’s just not into that? And even if I can tease out the details of what works for Kade, how do you then go to the rest of the Alliance community and say ‘Hey, I figured out how to get your dimari to stop killing themselves, you just need to fuck them on a regular basis’?”

Bryce leaned back and sighed. He adjusted himself uncomfortably in his seat, his right foot propped up on a chair, with a thick stability boot wrapped around it.

“When does the boot come off?” I asked, having neglected to check up on the injury earlier. He’d broken his foot eight weeks ago, on a mission in the desert, and he’d had to have four screws inserted into the bones to put it back together.

Bryce grinned. “I have my final appointment with the surgeon next Monday. I can’t wait to get back on active duty. And don’t change the subject.”

I scowled, feeling like I was running up against a brick wall trying to find a logical solution to Kade’s situation.

“Let’s just take a step back here and look at the bigger picture,” Bryce said. “Half an hour ago, you told me you wanted to find a way to make sure Kade didn’t kill himself. Which is a noble goal. But from what you’re describing, it sounds more like you want to rehabilitate him into a fully autonomous person. And you have to realise that those are two completely different things.

“Front and centre, Aiden, he’s telling you what makes him happy. He’s literally saying, ‘I am happy when my master is happy’. But then you’re discounting that by saying that you would not be happy to live under those conditions. So do you actually want to make him happy, or do you want to find a way to make him conform to Alliance standards so that you feel better about it?”

My heart sank as his advice hit home. “Fuck,” I muttered. “I get what you’re saying. And yes, the ultimate goal is to stop him killing himself, because I’m working on the assumption that that means that he is happy – or at least happy enough to not think that the whole of life is just ongoing misery. No one’s happy a hundred per cent of the time. But we have a certain set of morals about what’s acceptable behaviour, and the dimari seem to have a completely different set of standards to live by. So how do I find the middle ground in there?”

Bryce stared at his coffee cup as he contemplated the question. “Think about it like this,” he said eventually. “Once a year, all the Derelians on Rendol 4 go and spend twelve hours soaking in the Rosha Swamp and covering their fur in mounds of algae. Now, I think that would be absolutely disgusting and you’d have to hold a gun to my head to get me to do it. But they love it. They’re booking accommodation a year in advance to get down there. Okay, so maybe dimari have a more extreme example of that, but my point is, different species have different needs. And if you’re serious about helping Kade, then you have to meet him where he’s at.”

I was frankly surprised to be getting such forceful affirmation from Bryce about my chosen course of action. A part of me had honestly been hoping he’d try to talk me out of it, and that he’d have some bright ideas for a completely different course of action. “But what if I’m wrong?” I asked him, guilt weighing heavily on me. “What if I spend the next two years ordering him around, and potentially sexually abusing him, and then he kills himself anyway?”

Bryce played with the foam on his cappuccino, his brow furrowed in thought. “If a doctor treats a patient to the best of his ability, but the patient still dies, is the doctor an asshole?”

“That’s different. A doctor should be following a known protocol with scientific research to back it up.”

“Unless they’re dealing with an unknown or incurable illness,” he pointed out. “There are plenty of patients who’ve agreed to experimental treatments, because their prognosis otherwise is certain death. In this case, you’re operating within an unknown system, with the best of intentions, and with the willingness to change your approach based on the results of your efforts. Doing what everyone else does doesn’t work. Therefore you have to try something else. Maybe you won’t succeed. But in my view, not trying is the thing that would make you an asshole.”

Trying was all well and good. But I still needed to see results. “So if sex is the key, why is he still having these moments where he shuts down and looks absolutely fucking miserable?”

“You said sex is only one of the rewards he mentioned. There’s also praise and attention. So make sure you tell him when you’re pleased with his work. And he’s not stupid, by the way – at least not the way you describe him. So that also means telling him when you’re not happy with something he’s done, so that he can do something about it. If he cooks food that’s shit, teach him how to do it better. If he makes the bed the wrong way, tell him to fix it. I don’t mean you have to be an asshole about it, but if praise and discipline are the elements that dimari understand, then you have to speak to him in that language.”

I sighed. He was right. And that was why I’d come to talk to him in the first place. Bryce was a very insightful man. He’d been promoted to Commander a year ago, which was a full two years ahead of schedule, because HQ had recognised a certain strategic brilliance in him. Meanwhile, I was still floundering as a lieutenant six months past my scheduled promotion, because I hadn’t mastered the art of ass-kissing quite well enough .

“Fine. I’ll keep working on it,” I said, already feeling uncomfortable. Praise and discipline. The idea made me feel like a dom in a bad porn script. “You coming to the funeral on Friday?” I asked, to firmly change the subject.

Bryce’s expression dimmed. “Yeah. Hanes was a good friend. Couldn’t believe it when Henderson told me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, guilt fluttering through my chest.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bryce said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know damn well what they teach us. Missions go wrong. You can make absolutely no mistakes and shit can still hit the fan. And God knows none of us are perfect. Unless you pointed a gun at his head and pulled the trigger, his death was not your fault.”

I shrugged. Knowing it was true from an objective perspective didn’t shift the guilt.

“Have you seen a counsellor about this?” Bryce asked.

“No. Didn’t really think of it, with everything I’ve had to organise for Kade.”

“Maybe you should. Better than letting these things stew.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ll book something in for next Monday, when I’m back on base.”