A Small Piece of Heaven

Heaven 1


A Small Piece of Heaven - Part 1

The chauffeur clad in a dark blue uniform, held open the door as Treize Khushrenada climbed out of his limousine. The ex-colonel thanked the man with a nod.
"This might take a while Owen, why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee or something to eat? I’ll page you when I’m ready to leave."
"Thank you, Sir." The man replied with a slight bow, then he slipped back behind the wheel of the largeck cck car and drove off.
When Treize entered the two-story S.A.U. building the officer behind the reception counter looked up from the computer pad he was reading.
"How can I help you, Sir?"
"I would like to speak to Captain Kurama," the ginger-blond man explained.
"I’m sorry, Sir, but the Captain is a rather busy man, he only takes visitors on appointment," the clerk informed him.
The ex-colonel smiled politely. "Just tell him that Treize Khushrenada is here to see him, Lieutenant. Maybe he will just make an exception."
The man shrugged. "I can give it a try, Sir. But…" leaving the end of the sentence hanging in the air he pushed a couple of buttons on the intercom system. "Captain Kurama. I have here a gentleman who wants to talk to you. He says his name is Khushrenada."
"Treize?! " Rasid’s tenor came back over the speaker. "Lieutenant, show him to my office."
"Yes, Sir."
Treize followed the man down the hall to the Captain’s office.
"Colonel," the tall Arab got up from behind his desk to greet Treize. "I didn’t expect to see you here. Please, have a seat."
"You really ought to stop calling me that, Captain. I retired more than a year ago," Treize answered, seating himself in a chair across from the captain.
"Old habits die hard I suppose."
"I’ve heard of your promotion and transfer to this district and thought I come by and congratulate you in person."
"Thank you…I guess," Rasid replied, making a soace.ace.
"This doesn’t sound very enthusiastic," Treize laughed.
"I’m starting to believe that I was sent here because they couldn’t find anybody who wanted the job."
"Is it that bad?"
"Worst than you might think," the tall, bearded man sighed. "Captain Klug, my predecessor, must have prepared himself for his retirement for the last 5 years or so. He let his men run wild and let them do pretty much as they pleased. It’s only been 3 days but I’m already ready to fire half of my staff. – But enough of that. I have a hard time believing that you came all the way only to congratulate me. What really brings you here?"
"I have been thinking about purchasing a slave for a while now and I’m planning on attending the auction this weekend," Treize explained, and with a slight smirk he added. "So I thought I might be able to twist your arm a little to let me have already a look at what’s going to be under the hammer."
"Not much arm twisting necessary for that," Rasid pushed a computer pad over the desk toward the ex-colonel.
The ginger-blond man picked up the pad and started reading over the files.
The S.A.U. was a unit that had been created to deal with crimes involving slaves. They picked up a large number of runaways and slaves that for one reason or another were given up by their owners. Finding them a new place was a main concern for Rasid, a place that preferable was better than were they came from. He knew it wasn’t always possible, but at least he could try.
***
Rasid had gone back to working on his computer, while Treize was still reading, when some noise and commotion, coming from somewhere outside the office, interrupted them.
The captain was on his feet and at the door with a few large steps.
"What’s going on?" he asked before realizing that the situation was pretty self-explaining.
In the far end of the room a boy, maybe 17, 18 at the most, was holding a warden at knifepoint. About half a dozen officers had their weapons trained on the youth waiting for him to let his guard down.
Treize let his gaze roam over the boy. He was tall, with long hair that reached almost all the way to his lower back. His crystal-blue eyes were almost hidden under frisky platinum-blond bangs. Around his neck he wore a thin gold colored collar. His lean body was clad in a loose pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt of the same color. The words Governmental Property were printed in bold letters onto the shirt.
How ironic, Treize thought, wondering for a moment if the words referred to the clothes or the person wearing them.
"You are not going anywhere," one of the officers called out. "So, do yourself a favor and give yourself up or…"
The young man snorted. "Or what? You are going to kill me?" he asked in a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness, pressing the knife a little harder against the hostage’s throat. "Do you really think that’s going to scare me?"
Treize knew the officer was right. They had the youth cornered and he there was no way they would let him go. It seemed the blond knew that as well. His blue eyes darted about as if looking for a way to escape. There was a mixture of fear, defiance and determination in those eyes. The ex-colonel had seen the same expression in the eyes of soldiers on the battlefield. The blond was desperate and he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. He would probably end up hurting his hostage and get himself killed in the progress, and Treize would be damned if he would just stand by and let it happen.
"Everybody back away, now!" he told the officers with the demeanor of somebody who was used to give orders and expected them to be followed.
"Do as he says!" Rasid added, as his men hesitated. The tall Arab had enough faith in his friend to believe that the man knew what he was doing. Treize’s overly polite, aristocratic style was something a lot of people confused with weakness. Those people usually ended up underestimating the man. But Rasid knew there was nothing soft and weak about Treize. The two men had met during the war, Treize being a Colonel in the federal army, Rasid a member of the underground resistance. Although they were fighting on different sides they developed a great deal of respect for each other. They both lived by the same ideals of honor and justice, which had let to the two of them becoming friends even before the war was over.
Treize noticed with satisfaction that the young man’s attention had shifted to him. He put on what he hoped to be a reassuring smile as he cautiously stepped toward the blond.
"My name is Treize Khushrenada. What’s yours?"
The young man gave him a suspicious look, hesitating for a moment before he answered.
"Milliardo."
"Okay, Milli, wh, whn’t n’t we…" Treize took another step and the blond suddenly stiffened, holding his knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Don’t come any closer," he warned.
"That’s fine," The ex-colonel replied to appease the boy. "Just stay calm. No reason to get upset."
He took a quick look at the warden. The man looked like he was about to faint. Not much help to expect from him.
"Listen, I’m going to sit down over there so we can talk a little, okay?" Treize suggested calmly. Just as he expected for only a moment the young man’s attention shifted to the chairs he was pointing at and the ginger-blond man reacted swiftly. Even after a year in retirement his reflexes still worked. Before the blond knew what happened Treize’s fist connected with his chin throwing him off balance. Something hit his wrist hard, making him drop the knife with a yelp. His right arm was twisted behind his back.
"Go down on your knees!" Treize ordered, putting a little pressure onto the youth’s arm.
Milliardo, feeling no desire of having his shoulder dislocated, complied. Everything was over in a matter of seconds. A couple of officers took over and handcuffed him.
Rasid, after making sure the warden was okay, picked up the knife from the ground and turned toward his men.
"Take him down to the holding cells, and then Commander Phillips I would like an explanation how it was possible for the boy to get his hands a weapon like this. And it better be a damn good explanation."
"Yes Sir." Phillips answered, before pulling Milliardo to his feet and prodding him roughly forward.

***

"This was pretty impressive," Rasid said once he and Treize were back in the captain’s office. "It seems you are keeping yourself in shape."
"I’m trying," Treize answered with a humorless smile. "I’m just glad that we could resolve this without anybody getting seriously hurt."
"So am I, Treize, so am I," The captain agreed.
"Could I have another look at that auction file?" The ginger-blond man asked, picking the computer pad up as Rasid nodded his consent.
"Hmmm," Treize said after a moment.
"What is it?"
"I can’t seem to find that young man, Milliardo was his name, wasn’t it, in this file."
"He should be on there, unless somebody messed up again." Rasid sighed as he pushed a button on the intercom.
"Lieutenant Raltar, why isn’t Milliardo’s information in the auction file?"
"He hasn’t been put up for the auction, Sir." His aid’s voice came back through the speaker.
"Why not?" Rasid wanted to know. "He has been here long enough, hasn’t he?"
"7 or 8 weeks." Raltar confirmed. "He was picked up some time in August. I don’t remember the exact date. His owner didn’t want to bail him out."
The tall Arab nodded to himself, knowing that this wasn’t uncommon. When the authorities picked up a slave the owner was billed for any expenses. When the bill got too high most masters rather gave up ownership. When that happened, or when an owner was never found, the slave was put up for auction and the government recovered its expenses that way.
"Then why isn’t he on the auction list?" Rasid asked again.
"The Captain let us keep the kid around…for entertainment… if you know what I mean." The man answered with a suggestive tone in his voice.
Yes, Rasid knew what he meant and it nearly made his stomach turn.
Maybe, he thought grimily, I should just fire and replace the entire st I c I can’t believe that Klug not only let something like this go on but also permitted it.
"I might be interested in purchasing that young man." Treize declared suddenly.
Rasid blinked in surprise. "Are you sure about that? You saw him out there, Treize. Though I’m usually the last to suggest this, I think it would be best for Milliardo and his future owner if he goes through re-training before he is sold."
The ex-colonel shook his head.
"I know you have a lot more experience than I have in this and your concern is noted, Rasid, but I can’t agree with you. I think Milliardo is just desperate but not really dangerous. Maybe all it takes is to get him out of here. Let me talk to him and read his file."
The Captain looked at Treize for a moment, then nodded. He pushed the intercom button once again as he rose from his chair.
"Lieutenant, I’m going down to the holding area. When I get back I want to find Milliardo’s file on my desk."

***
Commander Phillips shoved Milliardo into the cell with a hard push. With his hands cuffed behind his back the youth could to little to break his fall. Before he was able to scramble back onto his feet Phillips was next to him and kicked him into the side. While the young man panted for air, the Commander crouched down next to him, wrapped a few stands of pale blond hair around his hand and yanked Milliardo’s head up.
"This was a very, very stupid idea, Milliardo." He whispered almost softly, close to the blonde’s ear. "You know why it was stupid?"
Milliardo swallowed convulsively as the commander paused for a moment before continuing.
"…because, now the Captain is angry with me for not watching you close enough, and when the Captain gets angry I get angry, you see."
Phillips let go of the youth’s hair and straightened up, turning to two of his fellow officers who had entered the cell with him.
"I think our young friend needs to learn that it is not a good idea to make me angry."
Milliardo’s stomach turned to ice as the three men reached for their shock-rods. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain praying that it would be over quickly.