Date: Mon, 28 Feb 2000 22:43:15 PST From: Dream Spinner Subject: "This Isn't Kansas, Nog" (t/t, sci fi slash) Author's Note: This is a crossover story between the Star Trek series DS9 and the world of Chaos Law. Star Trek, Deep Space Nine and all characters from the series are trademarks and copyright of Paramount Pictures Corporation. The Chaos Law world is copyright of Pat Scott Enterprises and is found at http://www.chaoslaw.com Permission has been given to use the Chaos World as background for this story. The character Jamal was created by this author. Fans of the two series can write to the author, Aardon Beta, c/o authorsix@hotmail.com where he has a subspace temporal portal link for communicating when he is in transmission range with Earth. This Isn't Kansas, Nog "Well?" eighteen-year-old Jake asked impatiently as he looked over Nog's shoulder. "Jake, for fucksake, give me time," his best friend said irritably. "This isn't easy you know." "You said it would be a piece of cake." "And it would be, if you weren't constantly interrupting me." "All right, all right, I'll just stand over here and be quiet." "That's what I've been telling you to do for the past half hour." As Jake stepped back and watched Nog, he thought of the many escapades they had engaged in over the past four years. A lot had happened since that evening Nog had enlightened him on the mysteries of jacking off in the privacy of Nog's bedroom. They had been fourteen, and he had been on the station for only four months. Jake considered that afternoon of discovery the true beginning of their friendship, sort of a brotherhood sealed with cum and the secrecy of that forbidden sin. They were probably destined to become best friends, despite the objection of both of their fathers, but that very private secret they shared that evening ensured it. They had shared many dreams and secrets over the past four years, resulting in a strong bond between the human and the Ferengi. They still were the best of friends, but they were not kids anymore, and their paths were beginning to part. Jake had chosen civilian life and was beginning a career in writing. Nog, nineteen a week ago, was now an officer in training for Star Fleet, and taking his position seriously. When Nog decided to do something, he went all the way. Although he would never admit it, even Nog's uncle, Quark, was delighted when he found out his nephew was returning to DS9 from the Academy for his second year practicum. Jake had been delighted too. Nog had been the only one his age that he'd really befriended at the station, and he had missed Nog greatly when he'd gone away to Starfleet Academy last year. At the same time, the eighteen-year-old was worried about Nog's return. Although they had been best buddies and had gotten physically intimate with each other on more than one occasion, they had headed in very different directions over this past year in more than just choice of careers. The most significant difference was that Nog had become straight, or at best bi, whereas he had become gay. Actually, they had probably always been what they were. It was just that Jake had only recently come to terms with who he was while on Dorvan V. There were four men with whom he'd become intimate with since Nog, and each relationship had been from his heart and with total commitment. Like Nog, Jake did not do things part way. The first relationship had been with the Vulcan Salene, the first boy he'd really loved with his heart. Then there had been the Klingon Gowran. Their relationship had begun as one of ritual and lust, but had become a bond stronger than any fraternity on Earth could forge. The Bajoran, Nolar, had been next, forming a relationship that was both filled with love and filled with despair, and last there had been the Dorvanian, Chilam, with whom he'd had a sublime, almost mystical relationship. So far he'd managed to keep his sexuality hidden, but he was uncomfortable keeping secrets from anyone, and he knew sooner or later he was going to be discovered. Nog had some very definite views on the roles of males and females, and he would have some very definite opinions about a male who preferred to have sex exclusively with other males. Jake tried to imagine what Nog's response would be when he told the Ferengi he was gay. On the way back from Dorvan V he had decided it would be better if he told Nog than for his best pal to find out by hearsay. He just had not yet figured out when and how to do it. It was funny, but he was more worried about Nog's reaction to finding out he was gay than he was about his father's. His father had some very definite ideas about what it was to be a man too, and about Jake's future. He could still remember the disappointment and attempt to change his mind when his father had learned he did not want to join Starfleet. It had taken his father a while to accept that fact, but in time he did, and now supported Jake's endeavours in writing. What Jake was about to tell him next was something much more difficult to accept, and possibly even impossible to support. He imagined it would be difficult for any father to accept having gay son, and being the Commander of DS9, and the Emissary, would make that all the more difficult. On his way back to DS9 from Dorvan V, the youth had resolved that he would come out to his father despite the obstacles. He knew that was the right thing to do, but still the thought had troubled him deeply, so deeply he'd even had a highly erotic incestuous dream about him and his father. The eighteen-year-old youth had had good intentions. However, upon arriving back on the station, he'd discovered his father had a lot on his mind, which was not unusual. While he'd been gone, his father had concluded his eight-month search for the Maquis Eddington, his dad's former Security Chief and a major problem for the Federation. Besides still being upset about Eddington, he had to contend with the growing threat of invasion by the Dominion, and the constant power struggle with Kai Winn. It came as no surprise his dad had little time even for his new love, Kasidy Yates. With that in mind, his ever faithful son had decided to wait. "Okay," announced Nog, interrupting his thoughts. "I think it's set." "You think?" "Hey, we're breaking new ground here, okay?" responded the nineteen-year-old cadet irritably. "Yeah, all right. I trust you, Nog." "And so you should. I'm not a Starfleet Cadet Officer because of my good looks you know." "Yeah, I know," Jake replied, avoiding saying the obvious. He did not know anyone who considered any member of the Ferengi race as having good looks. "So explain what you've done again." "I've input the exact location of the supply warehouse in the institute where Nolar is being treated," Nog explained proudly. "And that was not easy to obtain. I don't run with that sort of crowd anymore, and if Starfleet ever found out. . . ." "I know, I know," replied Jake. "And I appreciate the trouble and risks you've gone to." Nog didn't respond, but he was pleased with the recognition. "I've linked the location to coordinates for the reception centre of the Bajoran Port of Entry with a nanosecond delay. You should beam down to the reception centre, and the next instant be whisked away to the institute." "Should." "Will. You will be whisked away," corrected Nog, but not convincingly. "To those in the Port it will appear to be a failed or aborted transportation down to the surface." "All right. Can we do it now?" "Now is as good a time as any," Nog said. "It is almost midnight. Should be nobody wandering around the warehouse." Jake stood on the transporter pad, ready to be beamed down. "Remember, you have to be exactly at the same coordinates in the warehouse in two hours. And if anything goes wrong, you'll have to hide and I'll try to beam you back at midnight the next evening." "Try to?" "All right, I will beam you back. You ready now?" Nog asked, anxious to have this over with. "Yes." "Okay, Stardate 50543.9, check. Bajor reception centre coordinates, check. Energize." Jake had been transported enough times to know what to expect. As his body began to tingle like every muscle had suddenly fallen asleep, and the transporter room began to fade, he knew at least at this end things were working as they should. Now, if Nog was right. . . . There was a full moon out. Something whizzed millimetres away from his head. A metal garbage bin twenty metres in front of him suddenly exploded in a blaze of fire, igniting two bodies and tossing them in the air. A shot was fired in the opposite direction and a blast shattered the brick wall beside him, sending fragments in all directions. Several struck him in the side of the head, drawing blood. "Fuck," the eighteen-year-old cursed as he dove for the pile of debris in front of him. "This is becoming a habit." First there was arriving in the middle of fire on Ajilon Prime, then being pinned down while on reconnaissance on Dorvan V, and now this place, which quite evidently was neither the reception centre of Bajor nor the supply warehouse in the Bajor Institute for the Behaviourally Dysfunctional. He was getting tired of being shot at. At least this time he landed on something soft in his dive for safety. "Gummmph," wheezed the soft object beneath him, "watch where the hell you're falling mothafucka." "If I had any control over where I'm falling don't you think I would?" Jake snapped back. The two of them hugged the ground and tried to burrow into the pile of debris as another volley of shots were exchanged above their heads. They crouched there silent and motionless as the battle ranged around them. Finally the side by the brick wall, evidently the losing side, tried to make a break for it. The other was immediately in hot pursuit. As the combatants raced down the alley, the person beside Jake suddenly leaped to his feet and made a dash in the opposite direction. Jake had no idea where the person was heading, but any place other than where he was seemed preferable. He leaped to his feet and took after the individual. They ran half a dozen blocks before the fellow in front of him ducked into a bombed out shell of a building and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Jake joined him. "What . . . the fuck . . . you doing . . . following me." "I'm . . . not . . . following you," Jake lied. "You've been a step . . . behind me . . . for the past six blocks, mothafucka," the fellow replied, still breathing heavily but quickly catching his breath. He was evidently in excellent physical shape. "So? I just happen to be running in the same direction," rejoined Jake, who after his experience on Dorvan V was in good shape himself. If the fellow called him a mother fucker one more time he was going to slug him. The fellow looked at him, hesitated, and then breaking into a wide grin began to laugh. Stepping to the entry way, he paused to listen. "Well, I think we have lost the mothafuckas." "Who the hell were they?" The boy looked at him blankly. "Who was fighting?" "The Klan and the Disruptors." "Ah . . . ," responded Jake. He'd heard of the Klan, if it was the same Klan that he'd learned about in history classes, but they had not existed for two centuries. "Where, where exactly am I?" "Peaches Cafe. Or at least what used to be Peaches Cafe." "Which is where?" "North Farish Street. Third Avenue I think." "What . . . ah . . . city?" "What city?" his new companion asked incredulously. "You been hit on the head by one of those falling bricks back there?" "No. Yes. Well, I'm just a little confused right now." "Confused? The man asks what city he's in and says he's just a little confused?" "So? Where am I?" "Jackson." "Jackson," repeated Jake, the name meaning nothing. "Jackson, Mississippi." Jake looked at him blankly. "You know Mississippi, the good ol' US of A, planet Earth." "Earth." "Yeah. And what planet might you be from?" Jake was about to respond, but the tone of the youth's voice indicated that he was being sarcastic, not serious. "And what year is this?" "Four," the youth replied, not surprised at the question considering the others the stranger had asked. "Four?" "That's right. That's how people around here judge time anyway. Too hard to follow the Julian calendar. Days and weeks don't mean shit when you have no schedule to follow or special holidays to celebrate. But everyone remembers the day of the invasion. So we count the years since then, and divide the year by the seasons. Just like our ancestors when they lived in the jungles of darkest Africa," he concluded with a wry smile. "The invasion?" "The Yarilians, man. Where the fuck you been living?" "Far away, very far away." "Yeah. Well, it's been nice meeting you," the youth said, giving Jake a suspicious look as he began to back away. "Wait. Ah, well, I don't know my way around here, and well, I was wondering. . . ." "If you could tag along with me." "Well, yeah, for a while," Jake said with a shrug. "You know, til I get my bearings." "Well, you sure the hell aren't Klan, and you don't look like no Disruptor, so I guess it's all right." "So, you from around here?" Jake asked as they continued down the street. "What's with the questions?" "Like I said, just trying to get my bearings," Jake said quickly. "I'll keep quiet if that's a problem." "I live around here. My father lived here, and his father before that. My great-great- grandfather lived here. He was one of the twenty-two free blacks listed in the 1860 Jackson registry," the youth said proudly as they headed up one of the avenues and entered what appeared to be a residential area. Most of the buildings were black shells and appeared deserted. "Pretty soon there won't be any free blacks left," he observed, his voice sharp with bitterness and anger and a hint of despair. Jake decided it prudent not to pursue that line of discussion. Forty minutes later they arrived at a small bungalow cottage. The blackened outer walls were pitted and gouged, and the windows were boarded up. Inside Jake was surprised to find the place clean and bright although filled with a clutter of knickknacks, boxes and stacks of books and papers. "Nice place." "Thanks. Don't know why the good Lord saved our home, but He did. Wish He'd have saved the people who lived here and destroyed their belongings instead though," he added, his voice again sharp with bitterness. The youth glanced around the room. "At least I got my folk's stuff, and my uncle's and my grandparent's. A lot of people didn't even have that at the end of the bombing. One advantage of having lived in the low-rent district only had to contend with the fires after the bombing, not the bombing itself." "You do have a lot of stuff," Jake observed, glancing about at the clutter of boxes and objects piled one on top of the other. The youth's sarcasm and bitterness had not been lost on him, and a younger Jake might have responded to the comments. He was a different person now after spending time with Chilam on Dorvan V. At the moment he was not Jake Sisko, son of Commander Benjamin Sisko and aspiring journalist. He was Ekbalam, Black Jaguar Spirit, alert and poised for action. "Yeah. Lots of memories here. My dad was a collector. A real promoter of all things black. Was a rapper in his earlier days. He played me some of his songs. They were full of anger at society and promotion of Afro-Americans." The youth sorted through a pile of flat, plastic cases. "Sort of unimportant when you consider the toilet the human race is in now, blacks and whites," he said, switching from pride to despair like a light switch being turned off and on. "Rapper?" "Yeah. You know, rap music." Jake shook his head. "Bro, you have really been living in an isolated world." Snapping his fingers, he jerked his body to the right and to the left in time to the beat. "There is no doubt, in my mind, this black boy, is deaf and blind. Got no anger, got no wounds, got no mind, and got no balls." "Now just wait there a second!" Jake objected. The boy looked at him blankly. "You angry about what's happened to Earth?" "Well, no, but ." "You in any pain?" "Not really." "You want to fight?" "Fight who?" "The Klan and the Disruptors, man." Jake considered. He knew little about the first, and nothing about the latter. "See what I mean. Mothafucka got no mind, got no balls." "It's just I don't know enough about them to say I want to fight them," Jake responded, keeping his cool. He had no idea where he was or how he was going to get back to DS9. This was not the time to get into a fight with the only person he knew. "Man, no matter where you've come from, it can't be that isolated. You must have lead one sheltered life." Jake looked at his watch. It was one forty. He'd never get back to the spot where he'd arrived. Besides, he had no idea where it was. "You can crash at my pad for tonight if you want." It wasn't the warmest welcome Jake had ever received, but it wasn't totally reluctant. "Thanks. Name's Jake by the way, Jake Sisko." "Jamal," the boy replied, shaking Jake's extended hand. Moving aside the clutter, the boy unburied a roll-away cot and found some blankets. Bidding Jake goodnight, he headed for one of the adjoining rooms. Jake suddenly found that he was exhausted, and despite the strange surroundings and his worry about how he was going to get back to DS9, he fell asleep almost instantly. "So, tell me a bit about these Disruptors," Jake asked after a meagre breakfast of two slices of stale bread and three mugs of weak coffee. He had drawn a total blank on who they were. Keiko O'Brien could not have been that remiss in her teaching, so it had to have something to do with this time/spacial rift that had resulted in him being here instead of on Bajor or something. He had no way of knowing if this was the real Earth, and if it was, if he was in some forgotten era in the past or in the future. The boy had mentioned a date the previous night, but Jake couldn't recall what it was. "Well, the mothafuckas surfaced just weeks after the Yarilians arrived in their space ship and began to bomb the shit out of Earth." "Space ship?" Jake asked, suddenly interested. A space ship meant planetary travel, or at least communication across space. "Yeah." "And where is this ship now?" "Who knows?" Jamal responded with a shrug. "Orbiting Earth somewhere." "What about Earth's defences? Our own space ships?" "Destroyed all our ships, and our facilities. I'm told Canaveral is one black hole, and I don't mean the space variety. Where you from anyway?" "New Orleans." "Yeah? Always wanted to visit New Orleans. Jazz bands, blues, a lot of black history there," Jamal observed, a flash of that pride Jake had begun to recognize brightening his face. "Yeah." "What line of work was your family in?" "Grandfather had a restaurant. Served the best gumbo in the city." "Still alive?" "No," Jake said after a moment's consideration. That made it more logical why he hadn't stayed there. He wondered how he could get the conversation back around to space ships. He had to find some way to get back to DS9, or at least to get a message to Nog. "Lucky. This life would be hard on a restauranteur." "What do you mean?" "Not having any food, except what you can scrounge or steal, or that is dolled out by the Disruptors if you're willing to join them. How could a restauranteur live like that?" "Oh, yeah. So tell me more about the Disruptors up here. Guess they'd be the same as back in New Orleans," Jake bluffed "Think those mothafuckas are the same everywhere. Around here they're assholes who have taken the easy way out. Most of them are drug addicts and criminals who work for the Yarilians' in exchange for food, drugs, alcohol, anything they want. They live in these huge collectives where they spend most of their time stoned out of their minds and having wild orgiastic sex. Their life is like one long crazed party until the Yarilians call them to action, and then they do those blue bastard's bidding with an animalistic bloodlust. In return the Yarilians use their technology to cure them of any diseases they pick up, or any injuries they receive." "Tell me about their technology," Jake asked, trying not to sound too eager. "Don't know anything about it," Jamal replied with a shake of his head. "Yeah. Same in New Orleans," Jake lied. "What about the Klan?" he asked, believing any more questions about the Yarilians would just lead in a dead end. "Well, the group here is living out at the old Boddie Mansion. They've used the invasion to go back to their old ways, you know, like in the eighteen and nineteen hundreds. The Disruptors pretty much leave them alone. After all, they're helping the fucking Yarilians achieve their goal." "Which is?" "To wipe out the human race." "That's what we figure in New Orleans too." "I been thinking of joining brothers up in Harlem," continued Jamal. "Hear they got things easier." "You got brothers up there?" "Not brothers as in relatives," Jamal said, looking at Jake curiously. "Brothers, you know, fellow Afro-Americans." "That's what I thought you meant, just wasn't sure," Jake said, covering his ignorance. "So, you think there's any technology left around anywhere, you know, to contact others?" "They spent seventeen million dollars converting the old Standard Life Building into a telecommunications centre. Might still be something left there." "Can we go there?" "Why not," Jamal replied with a shrug. "I certainly don't have any plans." The old Standard Life Building was nothing more than a crumbling shell. What had not been destroyed in the invasion had been vandalized over the subsequent years. The equipment that did remain was useless to Jake, other than it did confirm what time in history he was in. Examining the equipment was like visiting a museum. They spent the rest of the day wandering around, searching the debris for anything of value to trade for food. The streets were deserted. While they searched, they talked. The area was rich in Afro-American history, and Jamal not only knew a lot about it, but he spoke about it with pride. Evidently their ancestry was something his family valued. Before they realized the time, the sun began to go down. "We'd better be heading back. We have to get home before the Klan begins their patrols." "Their patrols?" "The mothafuckas work by day, though I don't know doing what. Then for entertainment they roam the streets at night, looking for blacks to kill." "You're kidding." "No." "Fuck," observed Jake with a shake of his head as he wondered just what sort of world this was. "Besides, the Disruptors will be waking up with hangovers from last night's festivities and getting ready to party again." "They looking to kill us too?" "Yeah, after raping and torturing us." "Because we're black?" "Because we're human. Those mothafuckas that aren't addicts or criminals are psychotic. Would think nothing of setting a black boy on fire." "Fuck." "Yeah. Everyone is after this boy's black ass." Jake thought for a moment about Jamal's black ass, but quickly put his thoughts aside. They had serious shit to worry about. "How do you know so much about the Disruptors anyway?" "Got to know your enemy. That's what my mother used to say. Besides, there ain't a whole lot to do day after day around here, so I figure I might as well do something productive, like keeping tabs on what those mothafuckas are doing." Jake smiled. Nog would like this boy. On the way back they passed the Alamo Theater, which Jamal informed Jake served as a performing arts theater for black vaudeville acts, stage bands, and black performing artists. "That brick building over there is the Hill-Holly Building. Way back it was a civic and social meting place for a political party called the Black and Tan Republican Party. Can you believe they had such a name?" "No," Jake said with a smile. "Until the invasion, the Jacksonville Advocate was in the building. There might be some computers or communication stuff there." They looked inside but found nothing. As they were about to leave, they heard a commotion outside. Peeking out the window, they saw a group of people in white sheets and white, peaked hoods had gathered in the street. In the middle of them was a young black boy, twelve or thirteen, looking like a scared rabbit and his big white eyes shining in the dark. Remembering pictures of Klansmen and burning crosses in the DS9 archives, Jake knew immediately who the men were. One of the men was trying to throw a rope over a light standard. "The mothafuckas are out on the street early." "We have to do something to stop them." "Like what? We show our black asses out there and we'll be swinging beside that boy." "We have to do something," Jake said desperately. The two sat there and watched. Jake fingered the thin silver ring he'd received from Camaxtle, the God of Fate back on Dorvan V, and found himself praying for help. The man had stopped trying to throw the rope over the top of the light standard and the crowd was looking for something they could use to climb on. "Com'on," whispered Jamal. "I have a plan." Jake readily got to his feet, willing to do anything to help the boy. They slipped out the back and ran up the alley. A dozen blocks away, Jamal stopped and removed his shirt. "Okay, here is the plan. You take off your shirt and vest and hide here and wait for me. When I duck in here, you leap out and head back to where the Klan is. You a fast runner?" "Yeah." Without more of an explanation he was gone. Ten minutes later Jake heard a noise coming from up the street. He glanced out to see Jamal racing toward him, hotly pursued by a group of Disruptors. Ducking into the dilapidated building, he hid while Jake leaped out and raced down the alley toward the Klan, the Disruptors, not in the best of shape and starting to run out steam, falling behind. They had no idea the shirtless black boy in the black pants was a different individual than the one they'd chased the first dozen blocks. Clustered around their young victim, the Klan did not see the black teenager race up to within thirty metres of them and then duck into the shadows of the nearest building. They did hear and see the Disruptors charging toward them with weapons held high a minute later, and the Klan reacted as Jamal had suspected they would. As the two groups clashed, intent on killing each other and saving their own hides, Jake emerged from the shadows where he'd hidden and quickly crawled over and untied the young boy. The two slipped away in the darkness and raced back up the alley, accompanied by Jamal who had followed behind the Disruptors and had been waiting for them. The two teenagers returned the boy to the burnt out hovel he called home, which was not that far from Jamal's home. The boy's mother immediately invited the two heros in and insisted on making them a thin but delicious herb broth for their supper. They talked until close to midnight, by which time it was too late for Jake to try to reach his rendezvous point. When Jake woke in the morning, Jamal was already up. Jake joined him for morning coffee, not one of Jake's favourite drinks. He wished there was some way he could get his hands on a can of root beer. They had nothing to eat. "Yesterday was something, rescuing the kid," grinned Jamal. "Oh yeah," Jake readily agreed. Jake looked across the table at the boy. It was the first time he'd seen Jamal smile. He had a wonderful smile, and beautiful teeth that contrasted sharply with his dark skin. Jake had considered himself dark, but Jamal's skin was several shades even darker. Jake figured that when Jamal talked about his black ass, he really meant it, and he could not help but wonder just how black it was. The boy was five-foot-ten, two inches shorter than Jake, and had a smooth, unblemished complexion and full cheeks. The teenager was wearing the same black, baggy pants and loose maroon and grey pullover shirt as the day they had met. Both were at least three sizes too large. The clothes did nothing to accent his body. In fact they hid it, so you had no way of knowing if the youth was in shape, overweight, or skinny. He wore his hair long and in multiple braids entwined with beads and leather straps. Jake wondered if the hair style and the clothing Jamal was wearing was the style for teens at the moment, some sort of individual statement, or just what he had been able to made do with under the circumstances. It certainly was different from the clothes and hair styles of boys their age on DS9. Noticing he was being examined, Jamal rose on impulse, and walking over and sitting beside Jake, he gave his strange tag-along companion a hot kiss on the lips. As they parted, Jake looked at him in surprise. "What was that for?" "Time for you to pay the rent," Jamal replied with a blank stare. "This is no free bed and breakfast, mothafucka." He wrapped his arm about Jake and gave him another long kiss. That second kiss was like a catalyst. Jamal was in high spirits over their victory the previous night and feeling daring, and Jake, finding the boy's aggressiveness exciting and having had enough of being called a mother fucker, immediately responded. He had no idea if Jamal was serious about paying for his bed and breakfast, but he would show this boy what he was made of. They began to kiss and caress each other in a wild frenzy, as if making up for lost time. Jake's heart speeded up and his blood raced through his veins as he felt himself being caressed by the handsome black boy. His thick, hot lips met those of Jamal and the two boys kissed with fervid passion, allowing their pent-up emotions to run free. Jake easily slipped Jamal's oversize shirt over his head, and Jamal quickly removed Jake's vest and unbuttoned and removed his burgundy shirt. Both teenagers had well-developed shoulder muscles and firm pecs. While Jake was smooth-skinned with only a tuft of hair at the V of his neck and under his pits, Jamal had an impressive curly mat of chest hair. His muscles were also more defined and firmer than Jake's, and while Jake was on the thin side, Jamal had very definite six-pack abs. Jake trembled with delight as he caressed Jamal's firm deltoids and his broad pecs. He ran his fingers through the boy's curly black chest hair, and caressed his nipples, which quickly became firm beneath his touch. At the same time his own nipples became hard and tingled with irritation as Jamal's fingers lightly touched them and ran circles around them. Taking the lead, Jake slipped his hand down Jamal's back to his baggy trousers, and then around to the front. He undid the youth's belt and unzipped his pants. As Jamal stood, the oversized trousers fell to his ankles. The boy quickly stepped out of them. The bulge in the youth's boxers was obvious, and Jake wondered if Jamal was aroused, or well hung. Also standing, and slowly slipping his hands across Jamal's flat stomach, Jake inhaled as his right hand reached the bulge. It was warm, and it was soft, answering his question. As he squeezed the flesh through Jamal's underwear, Jamal fumbled with Jake's belt and drew down his fly. Pushing down his jeans, Jamal revealed Jake was wearing boxers also, and soon Jamal's hand was cupping the eighteen-year-old's jewels just as he was cupping Jamal's. The two boys eased each other's underwear down simultaneously. Standing there in only their socks, the two young boys began to caress and explore each other's body. Back on Dorvan V, Jake had made love with the black merchant-god Ekchuah, the first person of his colour he'd ever had sex with. Making love with Jamal was totally different. For one, Jamal was human, and for another, he was a youth just as he was. Jamal was also the first black boy Jake had ever seen naked, and he found the youth's dark skin especially erotic. It was so different running his hand over the skin of a boy the same colour as himself, and so different to see a black hand caressing him. Their lips met again in a hot, passionate kiss, and they drew each other close, pressing their naked bodies against each other. Jamal's hairy chest pressed against Jake's smooth pecs, and his swelling cock pressed against Jake's similarly growing black tube. Jake ran his hands over Jamal's tight, smooth buns and caressed them with firm, concentric circles. Jamal reached around and did the same to him and Jake's cock began to rise in response. The two youths kissed eagerly, on the lips, cheeks, and necks, and their manhoods rose and stood erect as if to watch. Jake glanced down and was glad to see Jamal matched his eight- inch bone in length and thickness. Unlike himself, the boy was uncircumcised and the skin totally covered his knob. Jake's skin had stretched back, revealing his dark purplish-black knob. Jake ran his middle finger along Jamal's crack from his huge, dangling balls to his butthole. The eighteen-year-old boy's anus opened immediately to Jake's probing finger. Lacking anything for lube, Jake slipped his finger in his mouth and worked a mouthful of spittle about it, and then reached behind and wiggled the tip of his finger into Jamal's anus. The boy's hole opened up to him, and he slowly and carefully eased the tip of his finger further in. Jake felt Jamal massage his butt more firmly as he slowly slipped his finger up the horny eighteen-year- old's rectum. He began to work his finger in and out slowly and Jamal continued to kiss him and massage his buttocks. Easing out his finger, Jake worked up another mouthful of spit and drooled it over his cock. The teenage boy spread the natural lube over his towering black tube until it was slimy and shiny with his spittle. Jamal dropped to his hands and knees there on the kitchen floor, and Jake knelt behind him. Reaching down, he positioned the tip of his spit slick cock against Jamal's butthole. Ever so slowly he pressed forward, gradually easing his thick, black tube into the boy's body. He trembled with the familiar delight of a tight, hot hole surrounding his aching cock, and Jamal shuddered with the delight of a thick, eight-inch cock embedded up his rectum. Pushing his cock in until his curly black hairs were pressed against Jamal's black ass, Jake paused and enjoyed the union of their two bodies. Then, as he began to work his cock in and out of the black boy's hole, he delighted in the physical pleasure and the mental delight of fucking another boy. He worked slowly, easing his thick tube in and out of the tight, moist hole of the teenage boy and enjoying the throbbing of the hot flesh about his bone. He grasped Jamal's hips and worked his own to and fro with a rhythm that had become natural to him, thrusting his big black cock up the boy's rectum and then withdrawing it until the knob was just about to pop out. It was delightful, and it was not long before he lunged forward and shot his load up the boy's rectum. The two boys knelt there motionlessly, Jamal on his hands and knees and Jake kneeling behind him, the one boy embedded in the other, the two enjoying the delight that comes from sharing an orgasm. Finally Jake eased his cock out and sat back on his heels. He looked down at the slick organ, still standing stiffly between his legs, now sticky from Jamal's rectum and Jake's cum. Wordlessly, they reversed positions. Jamal slicked up his finger with spittle and worked the digit into Jake's rectum. Jake squirmed with the sensation as his asshole was prepared for the penetration of a much thicker and longer object. He did not have to wait long. Jamal slicked up the knob of his eight-inch black probe with bubbly spittle, and pressed it against Jake's eager hole. Jake willingly pushed out, opening up his anus to the boy's cock. Ever so slowly he felt his anus being stretched by the firm, hot knob. He inhaled sharply as it forced apart his anal sphincter and slipped into his rectum, his sphincter clamping shut behind the swollen head. With the knob firmly wedged in Jake's body, Jamal slowly sank his thick, black cock up the teenager's black butt. Jake sighed as he felt the boy's cock penetrate him until his coarse hairs were pressed against his backside. Then as Jamal began to slowly pump his hips to and fro, Jake thrilled with the unique sensation of being fucked. Jamal tried to work slowly, but the teenager was hot and aching to get off a load, and it was not long before he was working his hips to and fro as rapidly as he could. The two teens were flushed with sexual heat and their black skin beaded with sweat. Jake thrilled with the sensation of having his rectum savagely assaulted, and Jamal thrilled with the rapidly growing tension in his loins. Jamal's fingers tightened about Jake's narrow hips, and he inhaled and exhaled deeply as he worked his cock in and out of Jake's smooth backside. The eighteen-year-old suddenly grunted and grasped Jake's hips even more tightly as he thrust his body forward, and Jake knew he was being filled with the boy's seed. That was always an awesome moment, physically and mentally, knowing another boy was depositing his seed deep in your body. There was nothing else in the world that could bring two boys so close together as sharing that experience. When Jamal withdrew, the two boys got to their feet, and without a word, reached out and took each other's hand. They walked into Jamal's bedroom and lay down on his bed. They cuddled together and slowly began to caress each other between sporadic kisses. Those kisses gradually became more and more passionate, and the caresses more and more forceful. Soon the boys were erect once again, and once again they fucked each other. It was just as great the second time as it had been the first. As they cuddled there in the small bedroom once again in postclimatic bliss, the two teenagers forgot their worries and problems for the moment and relished one of the pleasures of being gay. Just lying there in the bed holding each other was almost as delightful as having sex. "So, I guess we should get out of bed," Jamal observed an hour later. "Why?" asked Jake with a smile as he reached over and lightly ran his fingers across Jamal's chest. "I've suddenly forgotten," said Jamal, wrapping his arm about Jake and drawing him close. The two boys kissed. "So," Jamal asked, "you plan on staying here in Jackson, or you moving on?" "No, I don't plan on staying," Jake responded, unwilling to accept the possibility he could be stranded there for the rest of his life. "I ... I plan on going back home." "Yeah, nothing here for you, or anybody for that matter," Jamal said bitterly. "No, it's not that," Jake replied, understanding how one could give up in a world like this. "Though I certainly could live without the Klan or the Disruptors." "Yeah. Now that would make life easier without those mothafuckas." "What about you? You still thinking of moving up to New York City?" "Yeah," replied Jamal, but there was a hint of hesitancy in his voice. "Guess it would be safer to move up there." "Yeah." "You don't sound convinced." "I'm convinced," Jamal retorted sharply. Jake dropped the topic, and Jamal said nothing, regretting his sudden angry response. He was angry, but not at Jake. The two boys got up and dressed. Like the previous day they roamed the city looking for things to trade for food and keeping an eye out for any Klan or Disruptors. They occasionally ran into others, usually pairs, who were doing the same thing. When it got dark they returned to Jamal's home. Over the next hour Jake checked what the time was every fifteen minutes. "Why do you keep checking your watch?" "I have to go back." "Back where?" "Where we met." "Where we met? Now? You crazy?" "No. I just have to be there." "Why?" "I have to meet someone." "When did you arrange that?" Jamal asked suspiciously. Jake had never been out of his sight. "Before we met." "Well, it's your skin," the boy said sourly. "Go if you have to go." Jake got up and hesitated. "You don't know your way back, do you?" "No." "Where do I find these mothafucka strays?" the boy complained as he rolled his eyes. "All right, com'on, but if there's any Disruptors up and about, you're on your own." "Fair enough." They headed for the intersection where they had first met, detouring around several Disruptor groups on their way. Finding their path blocked by still a third group, they decided it was going to be too dangerous. They returned to Jamal's home. Jake's third day was the same as the previous two. The lack of any substantial food, the shear boredom of roaming about the bombed out city all day, and the nerve-racking tension of keeping watch for Klan or Disruptors took its toll on both boys. "This is fucking useless," Jamal cursed, slumping down in the street and tossing a chuck of concrete at the building across from him. "Yeah," agreed Jake, slumping down beside him. "You know the kid we saved the other night?" "Yeah?" "We shouldn't have." "What do you mean?" "Should have let the mothafuckas hang him. Would have saved the brother from either being bored to death or starved to death." "You can't be serious." "Fuck I can't." "But as long as you're alive there's hope." "Hope? For what? For a slice of dry bread? That some psycho mothafucka don't off you?" Jake knew there was no convincing Jamal, and he had to admit himself, the future on this world looked bleak. They continued to rummage about the ruins in silence. Several hours later they spotted someone coming down the street. It was another black boy, around their age, and evidently someone Jamal knew. "You hear the news?" Jamal's friend asked after introductions. "No, what news?" "Yarilians are up to some of their diabolical tricks again." "What do you mean?" "Been sending some sort of beam down. Causes a person to disappear and show up on their ship." "Yeah?" both boys asked eagerly, but for different reasons. "They got some ugly alien working the beam. Hear he has huge ears and is orange in colour, sharp pointy teeth, and huge boney head." "Nog!" "What?" Jamal and his friend asked together. "Ah, well, I've heard of those aliens before. They're, ah, called the Nog. Where is this happening?" "Ninth and North Farish." Jake looked at Jamal. "That's where we met," Jamal explained. "Want to check it out?" Jamal's friend asked. "Why not?" Jamal responded with a shrug. They headed over there, but Jake knew nothing would happen until midnight. Jamal's friend eventually got bored and left. Jamal would have left too, but Jake insisted they stay. Half an hour later the Klan arrived. It soon became evident they were sticking around, probably for the same reason the two teens were. Jake wanted to wait and see what happened at midnight, but even as attractive as that idea was, he agreed it was too dangerous to stay any longer. He reluctantly returned to Jamal's home. When they woke up the fourth morning, they both had woods, and being young, they decided they might as well do something about it. They lay there on Jamal's bed in reverse directions, head to groin. As Jake snuggled closer, he inhaled Jamal's raw, musky fragrance. Four nights had gone by, and neither of them had bathed. They hadn't even washed their hands. For Jake, Jamal's natural odour was a real turn on. He nuzzled his nose between the eighteen- year-old's legs and inhaled deeply. There was no aroma more arousing than that of a man's sweaty balls, and Jamal's pendant sac was warm and damp from a night's sleep. At the same time Jake felt Jamal's breath on his own genitals. A hand slipped about his stiff cock and held it at the base, and then he felt a hot, moist tongue run up the shaft to the knob. That was so hot. The tongue repeated its action, running from the fingers holding the base of his cock up to the tip. Over and over Jamal licked him, and soon his glands began to pour out his pre-cum. Jamal readily flicked up the first droplet of clear pre-cum with his tongue, and Jake readily produced another droplet. Jake slipped his mouth over Jamal's balls and sucked on them gently. Jamal's cock twitched. Jake sucked harder, and ran his tongue over the coarse skin. As he saw the clear droplet of pre-cum ooze out of Jamal's twitching cock, Jake immediately slipped his mouth off the teenager's balls and flicked up the sweet offering with his tongue. Another clear droplet formed in the empty space. Jake eagerly licked it up, and then slipped his thick lips over the boy's knob. He sucked on the thick, black tube gently, as if it was straw, and he was rewarded with another droplet of the boy's delicious fluid. At the same time he felt Jamal's mouth encircle his knob and begin to suck and he also rewarded the boy with a droplet of his clear juice. After a minute, he felt Jamal's lips slowly begin to descend his thick, hot pole. Slowly Jamal's mouth enveloped his cock, the top quarter, half, and finally three-quarters. Jamal began to work his mouth up and down Jake's eight-inch shaft, squeezing his cock as tight as he could with his lips. It was delightful to feel Jamal's mouth sucking on his most private and most valued organ. And so the two boys lay there, each sucking the throbbing black prick of the other. They delighted in the unique taste of cock, the musky fragrance of a man's balls, and most of all, the pleasure that comes from pleasuring another boy, and being pleasured by him. Their stiff cocks throbbed with their hot teenage blood, and then grew numb as they approached their orgasms. They sucked harder and deeper as they felt their nuts tighten and their cum begin to rise up the core of their dicks. Simultaneously they shot their loads, their tight nuts pumping out their thick cream. As each boy felt his cum squirting out his dick, he at the same time felt his partner's creamy load shoot into his mouth. It was impossible to tell which brought the greatest pleasure. The two boys lay there for a long time before making any effort to get out of bed. When they finally did, they sat up and kissed. It was a kiss of love. "So, another day of scrounging?" Jake asked. "Yeah," said Jamal dryly. "What else?" They headed over to a different part of town, an area Jamal had not yet searched. After several hours of picking through the rubble and checking the burnt out buildings, Jake found a small jewellery case with several earrings and a necklace. "Fantastic! That will get us at least a month of food supplies from the Disruptors for sure!" Jamal announced excitedly. Realizing what he'd said, he paused, and corrected, "that is, it will get you probably two months of food supplies." "Hey," responded Jake, "this is yours." "You don't ." "Consider it my bed and breakfast payment." "You mean no more sex?" Jamal asked with mock sadness. "Well," Jake said with a smile, "on second thought maybe I will keep this." Returning to Jamal's in high spirits, they were surprised and pleased to find the boy they had rescued and his mother waiting for them. They were both grinning like Cheshire cats. "We have something for you," the boy said excitedly. "You do?" Reaching into one of the huge pockets in his baggy pants, he pulled out a can. The label said "Campbell's Cream of Mushroom". The boy handed it to Jamal. "We found four of them, in a house over on eighteenth avenue. This one is for the two of you." "Ah, well, thanks, but it ." "It is too generous of you," Jake interrupted, taking the can. "Thanks." The boy glanced up at his mother and they both smiled. "Well," she said, "we had better get back to our place before it gets dark. We just had to bring this over to you." "Thanks again," Jake replied, giving Jamal a glance that clearly was telling him to be quiet. They waited until the two had left, and then entered the house. "Why did you accept that?" Jamal asked. "We don't need it, not now. And they do." "Did you see the look on their faces?" Jake asked. "They were so pleased to be able to give it to us. I couldn't disappoint them." "Yeah," Jamal said after thinking about it. "You're right." "Besides, we can always share the food we're going to get with them." Jake opened the can while Jamal found a pot. They savoured the aroma of the cooking soup, and then each spoon of the best meal they'd had since Jake's arrival. They licked their spoons, and their bowls, clean. Afterwards they sat in silence for a long time. "What are you thinking?" Jake asked finally. "What we've become," Jamal said solemnly. "How a simple can of soup is viewed as a precious gift and tastes like a gourmet meal." Jake knew what he meant, and didn't know what to say. He sat, waiting for the inevitable bitter statement and expression of despair. "We have to do something about it." "Yeah?" Jake asked in surprise. "Yeah. We need to do something about those mothafuckas that are screwing up our lives." "The Klan and the Disruptors." "Who else?" Jamal asked. "We gotta form a resistance cell and fight back." "Right!" Jake agreed, wondering why the change in attitude. "Our ancestors survived slavery, segregation, the civil rights movement, urban renewal . . . and we're going to survive the Yarilian Invasion." "Way to talk!" It was brave talk, but both boys knew that it would not be an easy thing to do. As midnight approached, they headed for the intersection of Ninth Avenue and North Farish Street. This time there was nobody around. They hid in the shadows and watched, and at precisely midnight the air shimmered, the sign of a transporter beam. Jake leapt to his feet, but before he could step forward a cat ran across the alley and directly into the beam. The cat faded and disappeared, only to quickly reappear, much to its annoyance and to Jamal's surprise. Jake began to walk toward the beam, but it suddenly faded away. He waited but it did not reappear. Nog had given up already, or he'd been interrupted in the transporter room. The two of them headed back to Jamal's in silence. "So," Jamal began, as they arrived back at his home. "What do you make of what we saw?" "Strange," Jake observed. "You know what it is, don't you," Jamal said, making it a statement, not a question. "Yeah," Jake said after a moment. "Nobody just gets up and walks toward a thing like that without knowing what it will do to him. Just who are you, and where are you from?" Jake thought for a moment, and then taking a deep breath, decided to be honest with the youth who had become his new friend. He confessed he was not from New Orleans, but from a space station light years away, and from a different time. He did not mention the possibility they might even be from different alternative universes. That aspect of physics he barely understood himself, and his tale had to sound bizarre enough as it was. How much of his tale Jamal bought Jake was not sure. He said nothing after Jake had finished speaking. However, the next morning when they made love, Jake sensed that Jamal knew it would be their last time. That day they contacted some of the people Jamal knew to talk about the possibility of forming a resistance cell, using the money they could get from the jewels Jake had found. Everyone they talked to was in agreement, and the more they talked the more excited Jamal got about the idea. That night they went to the intersection of Ninth and North Farish Street an hour early. "So, you're really going to form this resistance cell," Jake observed. "Yeah." "So what made you decide?" "The visit by the boy we saved, and his mother. The look on their faces when they shared their find with us. The joy, and the hope. It got me thinking how much more we could do if we banded together." "That's great." "Being with you these past five days has had a lot to do with it too. Before you arrived, I was feeling sorry for myself, almost ready to get myself caught and killed just to get it over with. Then you arrived, and these past five days you've helped me remember the heritage we have and we should fight for. You gave me a reason to continue living." The boy paused, and then continued with a smile, "and you've given me something to look forward to each morning. You got a great ass, and you can give the best head of any boy I've ever known." "Hey, you got a great ass yourself, and who could resist that tube you got dangling between your legs?" Jake responded, returning the smile. They embraced and kissed. "I'm glad you're going to fight back," Jake said as he stared over at the brick wall. "But I, ah, well, I feel guilty leaving you so sudden like this." "Hey, your friends must be missing you from that place you're from. And I know you're anxious to get back, and on with your life." "Yeah, I am," Jake responded. "Just wish I could help you more. It's going to be a tough battle." "Yeah, but if you're from the future, we're evidently going to win." "Wish there was someway I could swing the odds to your side," Jake observed. "And that I wasn't leaving you with an empty bed at night." "Well," Jamal said, "I wouldn't worry about the first. Like I told you, we've lived here as free men since 1860. It's going to take more than a few ignorant Klansmen and dopehead Disruptors to destroy us. And as for the second, I'll miss you for sure, but there's a friend who's been wanting to get close. I've been putting him off, thinking there was no future, but you've changed that." "Fickle," Jake teased. "Your lover one day, dropped the next." "I'll never forget you," Jamal replied, drawing Jake close. "You weren't the first to have my ass, and you won't be the last, but you sure were one hot mothafucka." Before they could get teary-eyed on each other, the air shimmered. They embraced for one last, long, hot kiss, and Jake quickly stepped forward and into the beam. As he turned around, his muscles were beginning to tingle and the image of Jamal was becoming blurred. Seconds later Jamal was staring at the empty space before the crumbling brick wall. Jake was nowhere to be seen. The eighteen-year-old boy said a prayer for the mothafucka, then headed home. There was a resistance cell waiting for him to form.