Tarek walked before them to the tunnel access in the side of the bunker, and down into the sunken hallways that connected the outbuildings of Jelka main base together. The tunnel was narrow and damp, walls and ceiling formed by split logs and cement. The floors were paved in flaked shale. His double-thick leather 'boardboots tipped in steel plates made his approach no secret to the one who was waiting for him.
The door was open. With only the slightest hesitation, Tarek entered the office without a glance at the two thugs. He'd been through this routine before.
They shut the door behind him quietly, and stood on either side of it to wait.
Griffin was a short, ugly little man. In the tradition of Jelka high command he dressed himself in high Treetop city fashion, subtle dark silk brocades and the finest deer leather a jarring contrast to his pocked, scarred face and crooked, twice-broken nose. The inside of his cramped underground office was paneled in polished wood, shelves full of books his attempt to convey the impression that he was learned.
But the dark, sly eyes of the Drake of Jelka Raid Patrol were the eyes of a man who had learned to win by cheating, and his hands were the kind that could break a man's neck with one grip. Despite his unsavory appearance, his smile for Tarek was real, if calculating.
"Tarek." His voice was hoarse and low, as if he'd once screamed himself raw and it had never healed. "Somehow I knew you'd go south." He leaned back in his desk, no windows in the half-sunken office. The green shade of his brass lamp was the only light, glinting in his black eyes.
The younger man sighed and cast his gaze to study the tiles of the floor. His narrow, chiseled face was set in the same rebellious pout he'd had since he was fourteen years old. Tarek never changed. "It's Skylord's Day, Griffin. You honestly can't expect the men to miss the holiday."
"You left our northern border open," Griffin steepled his thick, scarred fingers together before his chin. "I told my peers that you would be on the north today. It was a special patrol, Tarek. A special holiday patrol. We drew lots for it. The lot fell on you, it wasn't personal. We all have to do our part. I expected you to be an adult about this."
Tarek's amber-brown eyes flashed up to meet Griffin's, angry. The older man had treated him like a child since he was a glare in the glare-pits the better part of a decade ago, and he was sick and tired of it. "Nobody was anywhere near the northern boarder, for the Skylord's sake, it's the biggest holiday of the year!"
"It would be the perfect time for our enemy to attack," Griffin snapped, his velvety voice suddenly gaining a hint of gravel.
"The Eagles haven't attacked us in decades?"
"I am the Raid Drake, Tarek, not you," Griffin slammed his massive hands down on the desk with a startling thump. "I would appreciate it if you would respect my office for once! If you had done your duty, I would have let you off early this afternoon for the holiday, but you decided you would follow your own schedule. The Tarek schedule. You caused me to disappoint my fellow officers and drakes, Tarek."
Tarek stared stonily at the floor, irritated. He had nothing to say. He knew Griffin too well: obedience was rewarded, often with gifts that Tarek didn't want. Disobedience was not tolerated. The older officer would figure out something unpleasant to do to his favorite little star.
The chair scraped on tile as Griffin stood, pulling an expensive southern cig out of a gold case and lighting it with a gold Treetop City made lighter. He puffed on it a few times, narrowed his eyes at Tarek, and began to pace slowly back and forth behind his desk. "Discipline, Tarek. Discipline is where you are lacking. I expect more from you than this. You're Drake material, or at least you could be. You could be the next Champion of the pack, Tarek."
Here we go again, thought Tarek, trying to stifle his sigh. He'd heard this for years and nothing had ever come of Griffin's promises.
"You should be Champion. As I was telling Drake Racaster the other day?"
Tarek shut his eyes, inwardly wincing. Great. Now papa Griffin was telling the high drakes of the pack about him, nagging them, which would push his dream of being Pack Champion even further away. Griffin didn't seem to realize that nobody in the upper command structure trusted him, and his endless promotion of Tarek was doing more harm than good. With friends like Griffin, he didn't need enemies.
"You're a blazecube, Tarek."
You're just saying that, Tarek replied silently in his mind.
"You're going to the Games, and you're going to rank blazecube."
"Not with this 'board," he grumbled.
"I'm not the one who scragged that 'board." Suddenly Griffin's contemplative, soft voice hardened. "You don't appreciate fine things. You're an animal, Tarek. You have to learn to respect your skyboard. How am I supposed to keep you in a 'board if you go through them like this? I can't get on the list to get another Charlieboard for half a year! And don't even think of asking me for the raceboard, this one's mine. I've been flying this shoddy Duraflier for years because I gave you my last assigned Charlieboard."
The young man rolled his eyes, shifting restlessly. He crossed his arms. Griffin could scold him for the better part of an hour, reminding him of everything Tarek owed him, and Tarek was hungry. Dinner was in a few minutes.
"You're not listening to me." Griffin grew quiet with a scowl, the cig smoke rising before his black eyes slowly. "Alright. Fine, Raid Five, have it your way. You are going to pull double shifts until you learn to be more respectful. That means you go up with both Raid Five and Night Nine from now until I feel better about you. Have I made myself clear?"
Tarek didn't say a word. Silently he counted his heartbeats, hoping to the Valya that was all the punishment Griffin had for him. Obviously Griffin was expecting someone? he never let Tarek off so light unless he was busy with his secret meetings that weren't so secret. Honestly, Tarek loved going out on patrol? any excuse to be in the air. Cutting his sleeping time down to four hours may have sounded like hell on earth to Griffin, who was a notorious sluggard, but Tarek would hardly notice.
"Now get out of my face and keep that slamming 'board in one piece."
Tarek turned and left, slamming open the door with an impulsive show of exasperation. He stomped away, shaking his head and then allowing himself a wry smile. Let Griffin think Tarek hated pulling double shifts, fine. It all worked out for him in the end.