B7B7B7B7B7

PROLOGUE

Avon loved speed! He loved the sheer visceral thrill that left him pleasantly breathless. He loved the feeling of power at his control. He loved to tinker with its components, devising newer and better ways to coax more and more speed from the drive system. He was happiest when he could push his own air car to its limits and beyond.

Someday, he vowed, he'd own not just the fasted air car or planet hopper, but the most sophisticated spaceship he could get his hands on. And if one didn't exist, he'd invent the systems and have it built to his specifications. He could see the sleek lines, the large flight deck, the voice activated computer system. He had a very good mental picture of what he wanted. It would be a marvel, this ship of his.

All he needed was unlimited wealth. And he liked money almost as much as he did going fast. Now if he could just figure a way to get his hands on that money…

B7B7B7B7B7

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN…

"I'm warning you, Kerr." The dark man emphasized the younger man's given name as though put upon, shaking a finger in his face. "You are to be on your best behavior tonight. Is that understood?"

"Yes…sir," the slender youth replied, frowning, adding the 'sir' begrudgingly with a slight twist of his lip.

"This invitation could be the single most important step in my career and it could have far-reaching consequences to your own future as well."

When his son nodded, acknowledging for the moment anyway that he understood how important this evening was, Torr Avon finally left his son so both could finish their evening's dressing. There was no love between Avon and his father, hadn't been for as long as he could remember. Now, at least, he was more than a physical equal to his sire. The two co-existed in their dwelling simply by staying out of each other's way. This night, however, an invitation to dinner and dancing at the estate of Senior Counselor Steffan Servalan demanded a united front. Torr Avon's political position would be assured if he could ride upward on the counselor's coattails. Kerr Avon knew precisely what his father was doing and, while he resented the implication, inside he knew he could play the same game using his father in the same way. Besides, he grinned to himself, he knew the counselor had a very attractive daughter.

He checked his appearance in the mirror, giving his head a shake. His dark wavy hair was worn longer than current fashion, but he knew this style flattered him, as well as giving him an air of barely controlled danger. He wore totally-unrelieved black leather, jacket, pants and black shirt. He knew his father would criticize his colour choice but quite frankly didn't give a damn! He knew he looked good and intended to take full advantage of the effect it could have on the younger Servalan.

Avon walked down the stairs, enjoying the disapproval on his father's face as he descended, moving more elegantly than any sixteen-year-old boy had a right to.

It was past curfew but Torr Avon had passes for the both of them in the event they were stopped. He watched his son slide into the passenger's seat of the air car. Of course Counselor Servalan had offered to send a transport for them, but the offer had been declined – politely. It was a gesture calculated to impress the counselor with Torr's frugality. Once his position in the Federation Banking System was assured, he could afford the indulgence – but not before.

The younger Avon was silent as they traveled toward the capital's secured area where the wealthy and powerful kept their residences. The Avon home was quite comfortable, some would have even said luxurious, but he knew it would pale in comparison to one belonging to an Alpha Elite like Servalan.

As they pulled to a halt at the gate, Torr showed his credentials and invitation to the guard, and was waved through.

Avon very nearly gave himself whiplash ogling all the expensive transports parked on the grounds outside the mansion. He closed his eyes, dreaming of the day when he could drive whatever he pleased, just because he pleased.

The uniformed doorman let them in and indicated the main entry to the great hall and dining room.

"Torr Avon," the counselor's voice boomed. "It was good of you to come. And this is Kerr?"

"Avon," the younger man corrected him, earning a warning glare from his father.

"Avon," Counselor Servalan smiled, turning to Torr. "Youth, of course, can afford the arrogance, as I've learned from my own daughter. She too follows the Alpha custom of only allowing herself to be called by her surname. We, on the other hand, don't have to be so formal. Please, call me Steffan."

"Torr," he returned.

"Naturally." He turned back to the younger man. "And Avon, please, if the two of you would accompany me, I'll introduce you to my other guests."

Avon tried very hard not to gawk, to act as if he did this sort of thing every day of the week, and failed miserably. Someday, I'll have a house bigger than this one, he vowed to himself. And then I can do whatever I want, with whomever I want and with enough money so no one can touch me.

Introductions were made and Counselor Servalan indicated that the guests should join him in the dining room.

Torr Avon was seated to the left of the counselor, his son to his left and the counselor's daughter was placed next to Kerr, much to his delight.

"I'm Avon," he introduced himself, as the first course was being served.

"I'm Servalan," she responded with a sly smile.

He nodded in complete understanding. "Of course."

She picked up her wine glass and her eyes met Avon's over the rim.

He raised his own goblet in silent salute, returning her look with smoky eyes.

Kerr Avon took a closer look during the meal, while making certain he used the proper fork, of course. The girl was small, her figure still maturing at fifteen, but the promise was definitely there. I very much want to make the acquaintance of the woman this girl will become, he thought from his lofty perspective of sixteen years.

When the meal was ended, the counselor made a few remarks of welcome to his guests, then announced that dancing would commence shortly.

Avon stood, offering Servalan his arm. She took it and together they followed the rest of the guests into the great hall.

The two young people danced for some time, each enjoying the other's company. Finally, Servalan called a halt. "It's getting frightfully warm in here, don't you think?"

"It is at that," Avon agreed. "Why don't we go out and get some air?"

They exited the house through tall, glass doors, finding themselves on a low balcony. Servalan turned, her back to the grounds, and smiled up at Avon. "I'm very glad you came tonight. These things are always such a bore."

"Well, then I'm glad I came as well," he said, inclining his head. He so wanted to impress this beautiful young girl, but as a man of the world he'd a lot to learn. "I guess I have to confess that I'm a little out of my element here. As much as I've enjoyed the food and your company, there are other things I enjoy doing more."

"Oh? Like what?" She tilted her head with interest, her eyes never leaving his face.

He leaned against the marble railing, staring outward, not seeing the darkened grounds beyond. "Like driving my air car, feeling the speed, seeing just how far and fast I can go before I have to put a limit on it." He turned toward her. "Does that bother your?"

"Bother me?" she replied, a pretty frown wrinkling her forehead. "Why should it? Oh, quite the contrary. I think I'd enjoy driving with you, and the faster the better." Her eyes seemed to glow with interest.

Avon grinned at her with delight. It might be fun at that. At least he wouldn't have to put up with complaints of going too fast, or terrified squeals that they were both going to die. He fervently wished Vila shared this enthusiasm, but knew from experience that it was a lost cause. Where speed was concerned, Vila was very much a coward.

"Maybe I could pick you up some afternoon and we could go for…a drive," he offered, greatly daring.

She looked coyly at the expensive marble flooring. "I'd have to have father's permission, of course."

Avon felt deflated. Authority, in the shape of her influential father, had again reared its ugly head. Would the day ever come when he wouldn't have to acknowledge anyone's authority over him or his actions? He shook off his negative thoughts, returning to reality and this bewitchingly lovely girl. "Do you think he'd give it? I mean, I'm not quite as high up on the social scale as you are."

She laughed, and Avon found he enjoyed the sound.

"You're far enough, though, apparently," she reminded him. "You and your father were invited here tonight, after all."

"Oh, there you are." Counselor Servalan's voice interrupted them from the double doors. "They've just announced a Grande Promenade." It was not a request, exactly, more of an order. They were both expected to participate, to be seen, as future members of polite Alpha society.

Avon offered his arm to the girl and they followed her father back inside as the orchestra was opening the notes of the stately march.

It was expected that the host lead the promenade, but, since Steffen Servalan was currently unattached and his daughter seemed to have become 'attached' to someone else, the elder Servalan deferred to the younger. With a smile, she took Avon's hand and they entered the dance floor, other couples forming up on them in the ancient movements of the dance.

Avon was suddenly grateful to his father for forcing him to spend all those hours learning the social graces, though he would never have admitted it. But, like everything Kerr Avon attempted, he did it well, or not at all. He partnered the younger Servalan flawlessly through the intricate step patterns and complicated forms. He was aware that there were several other females near his own age, and not a few older ones, who were now casting a predatory eye on this dashing young man in black. Now this is the kind of life I was meant to lead, he thought, looking at his partner. She, he noticed with a warming in his chest and perhaps a bit lower down, was busily casting her eyes about, sending the message 'hands off, he's mine' to any other female who even so much as glanced his way.

The pace of the music picked up and couples began to separating from the line into the whirling motions of a lively step-dance. Avon pulled Servalan into his arms and began to twirl her about, enjoying the sight of her long ebony hair flying behind her. He resolved that before too much time went by, he would find a way to wrap his hands and as much of himself as he could manage into it.

The music reached its climax and stopped, everyone laughing and applauding.

"Quite a couple, don't you think?" Counselor Servalan said, and elbowed Torr Avon. "Perhaps an arrangement should be considered?"

"An arrangement? You mean between my son and your daughter?" He tried hard to keep the excitement out of his voice, as well as conceal the trepidation he felt. It wasn't like he had all that much control over his son these days.

"Yes. Of course, they're much too young to even think of something so serious, but, if we were to at least not discourage them, who knows how this might work out."

The thought of using his son as a stepping stone to his own career did not bother this man in the least. As long as he reached his goal, the means were not important. He knew that his son was also ambitious and was quite obviously using all his wiles to do the same thing. Apparently the skill was in their genes.

Avon led Servalan to where their respective sires were standing side by side.

"Father," she curtsied slightly to them. "I'd like to thank you for inviting Avon tonight. This is the best party you've ever given."

Her father smiled fondly. It wasn't' often his daughter acknowledged him for anything, let alone a social occasion. "I'm pleased that you're having such a good time, Servalan." He granted the use of her surname with an indulgent grin. "And it seems the younger member of the Avon family is enjoying himself as well."

"Yes, sir, I am." Manners, he reminded himself.

The counselor shooed them off and again turned to the man beside him. "Well, I don't think we should draw up the marriage contract as yet, but preliminary negotiations might at least be in order, don't you think?" he asked, as Avon and his daughter swept past on the dance floor. "They certainly make a handsome couple."

Torr Avon didn't know whether the counselor was joking with him or seriously proposing the possible alliance of their two families. Surely there must be others to consider, who were much more well-connected than he? Perhaps there was something wrong with the girl, something that wasn't apparent in a social setting?

The counselor seemed to read his thoughts. "Oh, I've been approached by other families, you understand, but so far my daughter has not shown the slightest interest in any of the candidates. I'm indulgent enough to think that if such a match could be made, she should at least be happy with the choice. And you are not without some notoriety in your own circles, I've noticed."

"I'm flattered, Counselor Servalan," Torr said with a slight smile. "However, I will have to admit that my son and I are not on the best of terms. I don't think he would appreciate any suggestions of mine that he pursue a certain girl. In fact, I'm quite positive that were I to make such a hint of a choice for him, he would, just to spite me, look for someone on the opposite end of the spectrum."

"Quite a rebel, is he, then?"

"You could say that," Torr replied, "but then, at sixteen, most of us were rebels."

"Well, let's just hope he grows out of it."

The two men watched in silence as their respective offspring continued to dance and mingle. Servalan introduced her newest conquest to some of her friends and was quite aware of the many eyes on her and her partner.

Torr Avon glanced at his watch. "I'm very sorry, counselor, but the hour is late and my son must be up for school in the morning. I'm sure your daughter must as well."

"Yes, I hadn't realized the hour. But there's usually no problem getting her up and out the door. She is studying for the Academy entrance exam and some days I can hardly get her away from the computer and charts she finds so engrossing. Perhaps now that she has an…outside interest, shall we say, it won't be quite so difficult."

"Studying for the Academy? You mean Federation Space Academy?"

"That correct. Though for the life of me, I can't see why."

"She plans a career in the military then?"

"Oh," the counselor answered, "not actively, I think. She's more interested in the administrative end. Says her ambition is to someday be president of the entire Federation."

"Counselor, if I were a betting man, I'd give you odds that she will make quite a name for herself."

"And were I a betting man, Torr, I might say the same for your son."