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artemiseamoon · 4 years

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Opia

Chapter 1 “A bad harvest”

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Summary: Despite the feeling in her gut, Daya Zeji joins a fellow Harvester to fulfill a contract dig on an Alien Moon. Once there, the already troubled trip continues to intensify as they meet a man named Ezra in the forest.

Words this chapter: 5,470 | Fandom: Prospect (Ezra x OC)

Warnings: Mature content. This is an AU version, not exact, but i am keeping the major things. OC is in her 30’s! An anxiety attack, a stand off with weapons.

GIF credits this chapter: I do not own the Gifs. Credit to owners GIF owners. | moodboards are mine

There’s something to be said about resisting your gut feeling, only to have things turn out as feared; or worse. As Daya sat in the crashed pod, she couldn’t help but review the day she agreed to this.

Before the draw of the Queen's Lair, Daya already had an impressive career under her belt, especially for her age. Prospecting wasn’t a trade of great pleasure for Daya Zeji, but she did have her reasons.

All the same, talk of the Queen's Lair died down over the years, the myth of the largest haul known to man went quiet. Despite never stepping foot on the moon herself, Daya was already familiar with its stories.

All the prospectors had a general idea of each other; some were closer than others. After rotations the Tavern was a popular hang out, a place they could drink and rest. Or, depending on the type, squander money away on drinks and affection.

This particular tavern was the largest on this planet, a sprawling property, three stories high. The owner had a number of properties across the town, including rentals; homes and rooms traveling prospectors could rent and retire post-trip.

Daya had a handful of preferred work partners, one of them, a guy named Keth, sat at a table with a man named Damon. The latter speaking of a contract he took, and that he needed a partner.

Daya planned to just walk by, as she only came in for a drink and kept her time here to a minimum. Women prospectors were extremely rare, so being in a cramped place with a bunch of drunk men was not her ideal passtime.

Before Daya could fully pass them, her small nod of acknowledgment to Keth leads to an invitation to the table. Reluctantly, she does. It was hard to deny she wanted to hear a little more about this contract. No one had mentioned this spot in years. She would be lying if she said her ears didn’t perk up a little at the sound of the Queen's lair.

Daya didn’t know Damon personally, but was well aware of his reputation. This profession was filled with assholes, and Damon was one of them. Daya was a bit surprised to find a good-natured (this was rare), yet tough man like Keth talking to someone like Damon.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Keth offered.

“No, next time. I already had one.” Daya replies.

“Pod not fixed yet?”

She sighs, “No, waiting for a part,”

The part was a real pain in the ass, and if she could, Daya would throw the whole pod in the trash. Her transportation wasn't the worst of the lot, it was just older and needed harder to find parts.

Damon's eyes shifted to her, then back to Keth, some sort of tired desperation in them, “Hear me out, I signed on to do it. We leave tomorrow. I just need a partner.”

“I don’t know, Daya, what do you think? The Infamous Queen's Lair?”

“It could be fake. Could be real.” She shrugs.

Keth laughed, pointing to Damon, “you won’t believe who this contract is with. Sure. I’m curious and who doesn’t want to be rich. But, fuck...tell her, you gotta tell her.” Keth shakes his head and finishes his drink, “ you are as crazy as they say man.”

“A group of Mercs found it,” he leaned in, attempting a hushed tone, “Karoclan.”

Keth and Daya look at each other sharing a knowing look.

“You’re crazy.” Keth laughed again. “Those guys will kill you on the spot, if this phantom deposit of aurillac is there, best bet they’ll let you dig, then kill you. They’re the worst out there. This is a fool's job.”

“I can handle them.” Damon replies defensively.

Keith put the glass down and slipped out from the other side of the table booth.

“I must bow out of that one, Man.. As rough of a life we live, I don’t want it to end just yet. Daya, nice to see you. I have a date.” Keth looked toward the stairs smiling as the red-headed woman he frequently saw waited for him; batting her eyes at him from across the room.

Daya waved to him as Keth vanished into the crowd. A second later, she shifts her focus to Damon,“ How many people have you asked?”

“Just him so far. He’s a solid protector, one of the best.”

“That he is.” She agrees.

“And you? I heard about you. Are you in?”

Daya sat back mulling it over. From her little interactions with Damon, she already didn’t like him. But if the Queen's Lair was real, it would be the opportunity of a lifetime. Besides, she had nothing better to do at the moment, her pod repairs were taking forever.

“I’m in, but I have hard and fast ground rules if we work together.”

...

Her talk with Damon was brief. She encouraged him to keep his mouth shut and sober up since they were leaving in the morning. If word spreads any further, they may have uninvited guests waiting to hijack their harvest. Daya didn’t stay for his reply; she left him with her wishes and a place to meet tomorrow.

On her walk back to her rental, Daya contemplated her future and what a haul like this could mean. It would mean she could finally stop prospecting and live the life of her dreams.

Most of her savings went into ship repairs these days and staying in nice digs when she needed some rest. Daya didn’t have much left at this point. In all reality, despite the risk, she needed the Queen's Lair to be true.

To hit the jackpot would change everything; she could finally make it to Opia. A utopia of a planet, Opia was a far fetched dream for most. Filled with artists, music, sustainable life, lush gardens, institutes, and universities. It was one of the first planets to master solar power and sustainability; making it one of the richest and most ethical places. Sure, there were other rich planets in the galaxy, but those riches were won in terrible ways.

Opia was a dream; one this trip could get her a step closer to. To miss the opportunity of a lifetime would be a shame. If the price to pay was catching a ride with Damon and maybe having to fight some Mercs, it was a price she was willing to pay.

Despite being at ease with her decision, sleep came hard that night. The anxious feeling stirring in her gut continued well into the next day.

Even when she reached Damons pod, the feeling didnt calm. But she shoved it aside as she did the final check for her things; her emergency pack, some food, water, and her trusty blaster and knives.

...

Damon's pod was a piece of shit.

It was like he picked the cheapest one possible. Part of her wondered if they’d even make it in the metal death trap, but Damon tried to assure her it was fine.

Damon didn’t have many weapons, which seemed foolish; there was only one thrower resting against the wall. If this man went alone, he would surely be overpowered and killed, no matter how experienced he was. Personality aside, he was good at his job, but, to Daya, it seemed he could have been better prepared.

En route, her worry wasn't so much about Damon; more so if anyone else heard him and was waiting for them. It was common to be on a job with someone you didn’t like, that was nothing. But inner team disputes, and worst, murder was common. In short, this was not a job for the spineless or faint of heart.

One of the few times they spoke in the pod, Damon made a stupid comment she heard all too often, “I’m impressed you have the stomach for this, as a woman.”

If he wasn't busy piloting, he would have seen the look in her eyes, the one that warned don’t go there.

He continued, “Is it true, Otto was your father? “

“Yes.”

Daya did learn from the best, her father, Otto Zeji was a legend in the field. A fact that did help to some extent; those who respected him respected her as well. But it was something she didn’t divulge to everyone. Not out of shame, she idealized her father. More so to make a name for herself outside of her fathers large shadow.

Not much more conversation happened that night. Soon it was time to switch, and Damon went to rest as she took over the wheel.

As the day came, so did another switch. Daya only napped lightly in the co-pilot seat. Soon, she was thankful she chose not to rest, as the pod suddenly spun off course, setting the alarms off. When they hit the ground, the seatbelts held up. It wasn’t in Kevvas plan to have them die just yet.

Damon, still a bit drugged out from the drops, jumped up first, frantically trying to do something. Daya’s heart was in her chest, she couldn't swallow, and now she had a map nearly tossed at her.

“Figure out where we are,” He barked.

Lifting the map, Daya moved to the computer screen to compare the coordinates and geography, quickly pinpointing their location. They were off-course, but it could have been worse.

After suiting up, they started on foot to the destination. Damon grabbed the thrower, leaving her to navigate the way via the map. This alien moon was just as her father described, in a way, the dance of the poisonous pollen was beautiful.

The air was noxious and she was thankful one thing she never ignored was the importance of quality filters. That would come in handy here.

Daya wondered if she walked the same steps as her father. Did he take this path? Somewhere, on this vast surface, did a footprint of his still remain? With Otto heavy on her mind, she was distracted when Damon stopped suddenly. They came upon a small clearing, an abandoned dig site.

Damon wasted no time stripping off his pack and preparing to evaluate their work. He muttered something about seeing what they left behind, and she knew he was set on doing this. Still, she didn’t think it was a good idea as they were running out of time due to the long trek.

“This is a waste of time, Damon.”

Damon didn’t reply, only blurted out another order, “Hand me the kit.” Begrudgingly, she does.

A second later, Damon started rambling on about the last time he was here and how much of a half-assed job so many teams did. Daya doesn’t respond verbally, but she lends him a hand as he digs up missed aurillac. As he does, he takes it upon himself to explain how the job was done.

Damon only saw the total disinterest and annoyance on her face once he held up the now exposed gem, “What’s your problem?”

“This pit stop, it’s not worth it.”

“The Queen's lair is special, Daya. You of all people know that. You don’t believe it's total bullshit. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come.”

“Still,” she takes stock of their surroundings. The forest was so condensed they could be being watched and wouldn't know it until the person made themselves known. “We don’t know who else is here. You weren’t necessarily quiet at the tavern. We should go.”

“We’ve been here too long anyway, “ he replies sharply, putting the kit back together. “I’ll start ahead that way, fill the bladders, catch up.”

Daya was sure he was deciding to be an asshole because she was so disinterested in anything he had to say. The faster this went the better, she was completely through with his presence.

...

After filling the bladders, Daya made her way back to the trail. The brief moment away from him was welcomed, she could better appreciate the odd beauty of this place and sort her thoughts. I’m actually here dad, she thought, as she glanced up at the sky to send her blessing to her father.

Moments later, her microphone crackles as Damon's voice came through, “Two men approaching…” he went on to tell her to stay hidden, he would contact her on channel 3.

Daya hid behind a large tree, listening as a man with an accent approached Damon. To hear his voice alone, one would think it was a friendly encounter. But, if you were around long enough, you could detect trouble and danger in the most pleasant of greetings and accents. This man had a danger in his voice.

Once Daya felt confident enough to peek, she could see two men.

One, standing very close to Damon, the other one very tall, looming a few steps away from them. His large square helmet added to his menacing appearance.

Seconds later, the large one stripped Damon of his pack forcibly, tearing his thrower from his hand as well. As if that wasn't enough, he wasted no time opening the pack, and going through Damons belongings.

The chatty one introduced himself as Ezra, what a name she thought, fitting to such an odd yet alluring accent. The second one was only introduced as his partner.

The tense conversation between Damon and Ezra seemed to go on forever. Eventually, the back and forth led to Damon getting knocked to the ground; Ezra pressing his heavy boot into his chest, affecting his breathing.

Daya’s eyes moved over the scene before her, taking in every detail she could, as her left hand moved back to the handle of her blaster. She could tell the two men had been here for too long. They had the sort of desperation stranded people had.

As this thought danced through her head, Damon was helped to his feet by Ezra; they accepted his counteroffer to lead them to the Mercs and take it all for themselves. While they worked out the final details about thirds, Daya noticed Damons thrower was still on the ground, abandoned. The silent one didn't retrieve it.

...

Before long, Damon's voice met her ears again as he gathered his things. He whispers directions to her; when they took off, she was to follow, taking the thrower with her. Then, taking a shot at the larger one once he gave her the signal.

After retrieving the thrower and placing it on her back, she follows carefully, paying close attention to the conversation. Soon the men stop in a clearing; Damon turns in her direction and gives her the signal.

Daya stepped forward, the thrower aimed at the large one. In response, a mix of surprise and annoyance washes over Ezra's tired face. Damon uses the opportunity to gain control by taking Ezra's weapon. Ordering both the men to remove their packs and sit on the fallen tree trunk.

Ezra, with a fool's grin, sinks slowly into a seated position, hands raised in the air; so does the silent one.

Ezra’s dark down eyes meet Daya’s across the clearing, “Well, this is something I have never seen in all my time in the Green.” His amusement was almost distracting.

Ezra continues, “Damon, I have clearly underestimated you. I must stop doing that.”

Damon was now rummaging through Ezra's pack, It seemed to last forever. Ezra took the opportunity to continue his monologue,

“Does this mean that the plan is off? You had me all up and bothered over the Queen’s Lair, Damon.”

Damon, now chuckling to himself, pulls out a worn white case, enclosed with a combination lock. Fuck, Daya thought, this was about to get even worst. Getting their shit back and away from these two was hard enough, but stealing their dig, that could lead to truly unfortunate events.

“Open it,” Damon demanded, holding the case before Ezra, who was not amused despite the grin on his lips.

“Alright,” Ezra started, “ you can have your fabled spoils all to yourself. But if your talk of the queen's lair is true, this is just a scratch.”

“Damon, we need to go.” Daya urges.

Ezra's eyes shifted back to her, “Your bewitching associate is scared, you should listen to her.”

“I’m not scared, this is just unnecessary. Damon, now!” Daya yells.

Ezra's words ring in her ears.

Truth be told she was a little scared. Despite not telling anyone, she intended this to be her last Harvest, ever. The idea she might not get out of it? That scared her despite her poker face. A poker face that meant nothing, as Ezra was still able to discern her fear. Was it something in her voice?

“No harm done yet,” Ezra warned.

Damon shoves the pack in Ezra’s chest aggressively, “I said, open it!” In response, darkness washed over Ezra's face; one that made him, for the first time, look truly dangerous. A look that hinted at all this man had seen and done to still be alive today.

Unsurprisingly, Damon ignored her pleas; instead, he remains locked in a death stare with the now eerily silent Ezra.

Seemingly defeated, Ezra drops his gaze to the white case. It’s clear he worked hard for its contents. He slowly and broodingly starts to unlock it, “It’s a shame Damon,” he takes a deep exhale, “ we could have been rich together.”

Ezra hands him the unlocked case; Damon kneels down to open it, eyes, and barrel still on Ezra as he does. When the smile draws on Damons lips, Daya knows the greedy bastard found just what he hoped for. This fucker is going to get us killed over a case of gems.

“Damon, this is not worth it. We need to go, now!”

The bad feeling is now in her throat, well past her gut and she could taste it on her tongue. Daya was realistic, two against two was good odds, still, their window of opportunity for success was slim and fading fast. Damon, being the greedy bastard he was, was wasting on some kind of show of dominance.

Before she could think another thought, the tide turned just as quickly as she feared. As if her body knew before she did, Daya shifted her weight, better aiming at the large one as he jumped to his feet. Ezra picked up his rail gun and took a shot at Damon, who fired at him in return, the bullet bouncing off the helmet.

Daya’s quick reflexes kick in, shooting one shot at the large one and hitting him dead on. As he fell back, so did Damon, it seemed he was shot once more by Ezra.

As two bodies hit the ground, only Daya and Ezra were left standing, both pointing their barrels at the other, a good old fashion standoff.

To her surprise, Ezra didn’t shoot, he only aimed at her. Her brain told her to shoot, but for some reason, she couldn’t. As the tense moment grew, and neither shot, Daya did something she would never do; she turned on her heels and ran.

Running through the densest trees for cover.

Daya ran for so long she lost any concept of time; eventually stopping when the panic in her body became so bad she couldn't run any longer. Resting against a heavy tree she took sharp almost painful breaths in, attempting to gain more oxygen in her lungs. Sinking down into the grass, she took off the thrower and placed it near her feet with her blaster.

The green moon was spinning; an unwelcome yet familiar sensation washing over her, one she hadn’t felt in many years. All she had to do was catch her breath, and find the strength to keep moving.

It wouldn't stop it, but it would keep her moving until she returned to the pod at least. The last time Daya had an anxiety attack was years ago, she believed she had a handle on it, this proved otherwise.

Calling on her deepest reserves of strength, she stood up again, strapped in her weapons, and shakingly continued on her way.

...

Once inside, the hatch safely down, the panic washes in full force. After stripping off the exosuit and all the things attached to it, Daya laid down on the ground.

Shutting her eyes and letting it move through her. Daya had to come up with a plan, she had to get out of here. But, until this passed, she was nearly debilitated. It had to ride out on its own before she could come up with an exit strategy. Eventually, the shaking stopped and the wave passed.

Able to move freely again, Daya makes her way around the ship to troubleshoot the damage post crash. After her third attempt at the radio, things seem real grim. She makes an adjustment to the station, only resulting in smoke coming from the pod.

Fuck.

The pod was done. Unless she could figure out which parts needed to be replaced, and Kevva blessed her with finding such parts abandoned from once used ships, this pod wasnt going anywhere .

After suiting up again, Daya steps outside to take stock of the pod; she finds three parts completely burned out. Feeling discouraged, she reminds herself at least they were common parts. Maybe this wasn’t the end, maybe she could scavenge for them? If an unstripped ship even existed here.

...

Back inside, Daya rummaged around for some food. There was barely anything left, except for some paste and dry packets. Not wanting to dip into her own reserves, she settled on Damon's grim selection and made a small meal.

As she ate, she couldn’t help but wonder; if Ezra and his partner were here, exactly who else was? She was also upset that she didn't make a run for Damons backpack. Hoping for the best was nice, but seeing as she didn’t know how long she’d be here, she needed all the supplies she could get.

As for Ezra, she did have a clear shot at him, her inability to shoot him still bothered her. All the same, he could have taken a shot too, but didn’t.

It was only moments later when the sound of footsteps neared the pod. Sounding closer with each step, whoever it was didn’t expect her to be there.

Daya was grateful she didn't put on her headphones as planned, otherwise, she wouldn't hear them coming.

Grabbing the thrower, Daya slipped behind one of the seats; low to the ground and aimed at the door. The hatch opened as Ezra made his way inside.

Without a second thought, Daya shoots him. Grazing him in the shoulder before he can orient himself. The hatch closes completely as he jumps toward her, taking the thrower from her hands and tossing it aside.

Ezra sinks back, sitting with his weight resting against the wall as groans of pain rise in his throat. Gripping his blaster tight in his left hand, Ezra tears his helmet off with the right.

Heavy breathing filled the pod as Daya remained in her crouched and alert position. She may have lost the weapon, for now, but she was going to get it back.

To the left of Ezra rested her pack, her blaster beside it. At this moment, he had the advantage; until she could get the blaster or her bag, she would watch him like a hawk.

“You got a field kit?”

The pain in his voice was evident, although she only grazed him, it obviously hurt like hell. Then, there was the other problem, the poisons pollen from his suit seeping into the wound. That was the real threat.

Ezra waited for an answer that never came.

The two of them stare off; wild animals stalking each other's moves. Ezra grew impatient first, raising his voice as anger overtook his expression,

“Hey! Field kit.”

Taking her chance, Daya lunged forward, retrieving his blaster and kicking hers further away from him; closer to where she could reach it. Now, the ball was in her court as she aimed two barrels at him.

Ezra’s laugh turned into a groan, followed by a weathered breath, “You gonna shoot?”

Daya says nothing.

“Kevva waits! “ his tone raised as he grips his wounded arm, “just, make a move.”

“You and your partner robbed us, then you killed my partner.”

“That is technically true...” his voice fading as he looked down at his arm, pain in his brows.

“You stole from us!”

“That's the fringe. Look,” he leans forward, “ in regards to Damon. I'm apt to say he killed himself; a fact deep down, I know you are in agreement with based on your reactions. He was trying to steal my trophy case. A man's work is no petty thing, I truly apologize for my contribution to his passing. But he was stealing my entire harvest. And actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions. Damon knew that, and if he didn't, then he had no business in the Green.”

Ezra was right, Daya knew that. Still, she didn’t trust him.

Ezra speaks up, “Frankly, I unequivocally believe you were not fond of your associate. Ordinarily, if a person sees their partner killed, there is some element of shock or dejection in their eyes. Do you want to know what I saw in yours? Relief.”

“And, what does that say for you? You barely blinked when that tower of a partner of yours went down by my hand.”

Ezra shrugged and leaned back into the wall again, “Number two was merely a means to an end. Do not grieve his loss, Birdie.”

“Who said I was?”

“I doubt you are,” Ezra shifted, the smile returned to his lips. His brown eyes focused on her in a new way, it was like he was studying her, “Kevva above,” he sang, “ how appearances can deceive. I find it safe to wager you have seen far more ugliness of the world than your striking visage portrays. The variety rests in your eyes.”

Unsure of how to take his words or deal with the odd stirring his presence caused in her, Daya opted to stay silent. Instead, holding steady to the blasters, ready to shoot him again, if need be.

Daya watches the discomfort distort his features, she moves closer

“Ideally, at this point of our unfortunate meeting, I’d make you lead me to your ship so I can get the fuck off this moon and gift you with your life. However, seeing how desperate you were to take from us and locate this pod; I take it you don’t have transportation of your own, do you?”

Ezra's expression softens, so does his voice as it drops an octave, “get me a kit and we can talk.” The little smirk on his lips indicates he’s impressed.

Making her decision, Daya tucks one blaster in her belt and retrieves the kit. She shoves it his way before returning to her position.

Ezra hurriedly pulls what he needs from the kit. Proceeding to disinfect and seal the wound with healing foam, Ezra pushes through the process with a very understandable urgency.

All the while, a string of moans, winches, and grunts fell out of him. Once he was done, he pushed himself back into the wall; swallowing as many painkillers as he could take, choking them down.

After a moment with his eyes closed, Ezra clears his throat and speaks up, his voice more scratchy now,

“That offer would have been more than generous. One I'd be happy to sign and seal save for one glaring slip. One you have discerned from my actions today. I did have a ship. Then there was an event with my crew concerning a bit of aurualac, and words and metal flew. And now I don’t.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Daya shakes her head. Although she suspected as much, it was still disappointing to hear.

Ezra continues, “We're in the same trough, you and I. can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways, as she was supposed to be my redemption as well.” His eyes travel the extent of the pod, taking stock of it.

Daya inches closer with the gun, causing Ezra to jump slightly and raise his hands in defense,

“Whoa whoa...just slow down a beat there, little bird. Look, at least wait for the counter offer.”

“I'm only listening because we’re both stuck here, but I will kill you if you try anything. Speak.”

“The mercs, they’re real, aren't they? And the queen's lair?” Daya didn’t respond to his questions, but Ezra could tell from her eyes, “ mmhmm... listen, I well know the allure of vengeance. I have frequently indulged, and I have not often found regret. But in this moment, right here, I'm afraid for both our sakes I must riposte. I say we go to your mercs, I play the prospector, and together we ravage the Queen. Let me help you. I can harvest, I can offer protection.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“I hold no doubts you can hold our own and vanquish the strongest of men. We tend to underestimate the force of the fairer species. A woman prospector, well, that ought to be one of the toughest around; A rare soul indeed. In spite of that, a seraphic sight as yourself, wandering into a camp of Frigeling mercs, raw at the end of tour. What happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” Shaking his head, “ Certainly, you are aware they have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer if not they will find a way to take from you.”

“You sure do talk a lot, all that to tell me what I already know.”

“I am of a loquacious nature,” he smiles and checks on his arm, it looks better, but not completely healed, they may have waited too long to treat it.

In a way, Daya felt bad for him, perhaps that led to her final decision,

“Even split.” She says.

Ezra’s smile returns, so does the light in his eyes despite the obvious battle with discomfort and pain, “Of course.”

Daya lowers the gun and moves closer.

Ezra stays still as she looks at his wound. “Look, Ezra, if we’re doing this I need you in one piece and by the looks of this, we need to get this torn fabric off your wound and completely close it. Only then are you useful to me out there.”

“Is that all you have?” He motions to the open kit, its contents scattered about the floor.

“For that, yeah but I may have something that helps. It counteracts most poisons, but seeing as this is my first time here, I can't make you any promises about the death-dealing pollen out there.”

“I’m in your hands. “ There’s a softness in his voice she had yet to hear until now.

Meeting his eyes she could more clearly see him now. The scar on his left cheek, the spottiness of his beard, the hawk-like shape of his nose, the unexpected blonde tuft of hair above his right temple.

Daya suspects she held his face in regard for too long and pulls her eyes away. She leaves him briefly to recover a small kit and extra suit.

“I need you to change suits, this is a backup Damon kept, it’s acceptable. The filters are okay. Better than the compromised one you're currently wearing.”

As she speaks, a grin teases his lips. Ezra stands and tries to get out of the suit himself. Feeling bad as he struggles, Daya helps him.

Once the suit safely removed, and he’s redressed, they returned to their seated positions.

Daya to the right of Ezra as she cleans his wound. Once she’s done, Daya covers it with a green salve that smells of the earth, then closes it off with a wide bandage.

The whole time Daya avoided his gaze, but she couldn't escape the feeling of Ezra’s eyes burning into her. The talkative man was oddly silent as she patched him up; this only added to the tension between them.

When the silence finally broke, Daya spoke,

“If your arm goes bad, you are no longer of use to me. At that point, I will kill you.”

Ezra chuckles, “Cryptic threats from such a delicate face. What a dance we find ourselves in. birdie.”

Ezra had called her twice now, and each time it caused a weird mix of feelings in her, “Don’t call me that.”

“What shall I call you then? Your name remains a mystery to me, as you’ve yet to reveal it.”

“Daya.”

“Daya,” he repeats like an old song lyric, “...like the hawk, it means, the bird of prey,”

A man with such a big vocabulary was likely in the habit of reading any book he found. Or course, he’d know some random facts such as this.

He continues, “Daya, it is my privilege to properly make your acquaintance.”

chapter revised 7/21/2021! This fic turned 1 year on the 6th of this month! :)

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artemiseamoon · 4 years

Text

Opia

Part 2: A Detour, An Offer, A Break

Read part 1 here | all chapters

Words this chapter: 2,152 | Fandom: Prospect (Ezra x OC)

Warnings: Mature content. a wound, shady deals

Cover & banner Credits: by me | Credit to the GIF owners.

En route to the site, Ezras labored breathing worries Daya; it was hard to ignore the state he was in. His balance seemed a bit wobbly as well.

Either, he was dying from the infection or his body was hurting and burning up like hell fighting the infection. The answer was hard to tell through an exo-suit.

Despite his rough state, Ezra would occasionally greet her with a smile when he looked back at her. She stayed behind him, ready incase he tried anything. But the longer they trekked through the rugged terrain, the less like a threat he was starting to feel.

There wasn’t much conversation, not at first.

Daya was silent and avoided eye contact with him; something he noticed and he seemed to pull back a little over a time, much to her surprise. It wasn’t until a while later when he spoke,

Ezra slowed his pace to catch his full breath,“Daya, please accept my sincerest apologies. A proper thank you is owed and payable to you. I cannot express my appreciation enough.”

They make eye contact briefly and she breaks it first, “Well, my efforts might have been fruitless based on how you look. You’re not feeling too good are you?”

“It’s true, I’ve seen finer days and this body has held me through many storms. This particular one is not a genle lover..”

Daya looks around, “we’re already pushing it. I know you need to rest but we need -”

“Little bird,” Ezra says with a gentle rise of the hand, “don’t worry your head over me. We have an appointment we cannot miss, one that is paramount to our futures.”

Nodding her head in agreement, Daya turns on her heels and walks infront of him for the first time. Previously, she made Ezra lead the way.

As she walks, and silence falls again, she realized he called her that little term of endearment again. The truth was, she kind of liked it and at the moment wanted to marinate in it a little; hence deciding not to call him out about it.

What Daya didn’t know was, as Ezra followed behind her he was thinking about it too; speculating the reasons she let him call her that, despite telling him very clearly not too.

…

The pair didn’t make it too much further when a rusting in the trees caught their attention. Ezra seemed immediately to have a better idea of what it was. He directs Daya to lay low and put her weapons down; he does the same withthe blaster.

“Ezra-”

A small figure dressed head to toe in black appears; moving about rather nervously until Ezra expresses that they were coming in peace and not a threat.

Daya remains confused, even when Ezra finally speaks to her again, “This could turn out to be a satisfactory encounter. The Saders may have supplies up for trade. Parts even, if we meet the unfortunate fate of remaining stuck on this moon.”

Unsure, she pushes through the doubt, “I know what parts we need, I examined the pod -” She loses her train of thought when the dark figure runs off.

Ezra stands, “We have to follow him.”

...

It didn’t take long, they quickly arrived at the vast hidden village of the Saders. On the walk, Ezra told her about them. She had vague memories of people who could live on such a moon; the ones her father told her about. Now, she knew the two were one and the same.

They were traders, scavengers, and religious as Ezra emphasized. He said they were a breed of their own, like no other people he’d encountered in his long career as a prospector. He warned her that the Saders were a strange bunch.

Before he could elaborate further, they reached the entry of the village. After a brief exchange, one in which she discovered they had to go in unarmed, they found a spot to hide their weapons before re-entering its gates.

As far as outer appearances go, the leader seemed welcoming. Still, something uncertain floated in the air. The leader was gracious, even offered them juice and entertained them with music.

The leader told them his story, how he was once like them, now he was home in this village. Daya was thankful that Ezra spoke up, stating they were there to make a deal for medical supplies for his arm and possibly parts if they had them.

Ezra offered a very generous portion of his Aurelac, to her surprise. He worked so hard for it, that must have been a difficult offer for him to make.

As Ezra did the talking, Daya read the room, the faces of the men, and the young kid who served the tea and played the music. Most unsettling was the leader, whose eyes glued to her in a way that made her deeply uncomfortable.

Then she notices the worst of it, what seems to be a woman, asleep, sick, or dead, on a cot. Through all of this, Ezra struggled. He was visibly weak and his face covered in sweat; his dark brown hair clinging to his forehead. Still, he kept his lips moving.

As discomfort rises in her, Daya also realizes the unsettling ratio of men to women here. Her eyes drift back to the woman on the cot, something was wrong, terribly wrong.

The leader and his men talk among themselves in their language and he motions for the young boy to retrieve something. He returns with a case of aurillac, filters, and medical supplies.

Confused, Ezra askes for clarification and Daya feels the juice rising in her throat. It was clear as day now, they were making Ezra an offer for her!

Daya’s head was spinning. The leader explained his reasons to Ezra. There was no way in hell she was going to end up stuck on this moon producing babies and breeding a village.

Daya shoots up in a rage and waves her hand in a slicing motion. “No! NO!”

Not waiting for their reply, Daya made a run for it, leaving the men and Ezra behind.

One of the guards chases her, gaining on her and tackling her to the ground. The struggle was short lived as she pulled his oxygen from his helmet and scrambled to her feet; she had to get her blaster.

...

Once she had it, the rage boiled in her body like a fire. She didn’t realize just how far off she ran until the sound of a worn Ezra caught up with her. He was speaking but she didn’t listen, did he know? Was this a trap?

Daya didn’t slow down or acknowledge him until he started to apologize in a whole bunch of words she didn’t understand, mixed with labored breathing. Daya finally slowed down, facing him,

“Did you know?” Her brown eyes wide and full of fear, for the first time he sees this in her eyes.

Ezra exhales, and rest his hands on his knees,

“I confess I was weary to enter the village, but not for the reasons you accuse me of. A settlement such as that tends to have a questionable ideology. Though, I did not yet have confirmation for my uncertainty. The events that have transpired showed me my trepidation was warranted. Regrettably, I took you into that situation with me. In my defense, I was not privy to the fact that an offer would be made for you. Believe me, even in our new-found partnership, you must know, that is something I would never do.”

Daya rested her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath and searching his eyes. She wanted to believe him, and if his eyes were to be trusted, she could.

“...Ezra…” She exhales and closes her eyes for a moment to think.

His tone is soft, but still tired when he replies, “I would never put you in that situation knowingly, Daya.”

A moment passes between them, one of uncomfortable silence and she decides to give him a chance, again.

“We should be at the site soon and daylight won’t be on our side in about...an hour,” she wets her lips, “only a little longer, Ezra. I’m a good harvester too, I should do the hard work. You assist.”

Ezra started to reply but broke into a coughing fit instead, nearly losing his balance. It was clear they had to stop, he may not make it any longer without a proper break.

Before Ezra caught up with her, she spotted a small abandoned camp, a few tents still standing. “Change of plans, you need a break, to rest.”

“Time is not in a generous mood, Daya. We must proceed with the plan.”

“No, you’re too weak,” she says, wrapping his good arm around her shoulders, “Just a little rest. I promise.”

...

It’s a slow walk, having the extra weight on her side. But they get there. Once inside she helps Ezra down on the cot in the tent and quickly zips it close, both of them taking off their helmets in relief.

Ezra leans back, his Adam's apple jumping as he swallows. He was likely thirsty and didn’t ask. Daya retrieved one of the water packets and he consumed it. It was weird, seeing him like this. Only hours earlier they both held barrels to each other's faces.

“You are kind, Daya. It gives me hope for humanity; that you can keep body and soul together, even in a world such as this.”

“Don’t get carried away, Professor Wordsmith, “she says with a smile, “few see my nice side. You got lucky.”

“Blessed I am indeed, even in a state of great physical malaise.”

“Besides, looks can be deceiving, remember. Who's to say my body and soul are one?”

“I’m of the belief they are,” he comments softly, his voice tired as he forces himself to sit up. “I fear I will drift off to deep slumber if I remain horizontal. We have too much to do for such a thing to occur.”

“...”

Daya was going to reply, but didn’t. Instead, Daya continues to wonder about his arm. If she could get a look at it, she would know if it was the infection killing him, or his body catching fever fighting it.

They needed Kevvas's blessing for it to be the latter. Despite whatever the man had done in the past, he was growing on her and she needed him alive.

“Speak your mind, friend.” His whispers, his eyes already on her when she looks at him again.

“I need to check your arm.”

“I assure you it's unsightly, as much as I hate to admit such a defeat. This may be the end of my friend and I….” he looks down at his arm fondly, “...no job too gritty. No love is too intimidating.”

“Wh-” she started to ask then stopped, deciding to not even ask. “Take your suit off.”

“If a man has to submit to the fate of losing his arm, doing so in your company as you give such orders, is the ideal way to do so.”

Daya smiles and he does too. “Just, the top part.”

“Anything you say, birdie.”

Ezra takes his time pulling the zipper down, eyes glued to hers as he waits for a response. Now, he was just fucking with her, and they were both amused by it.

Once his arm was free she could see his normally olive toned skin was very pale around the wound, but he hadn't lost all his color yet.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she pinched his palm and he flinched.

“Good, you still have feeling...move your fingers.” he does. “It’s not as bad as it feels. That pollen is nasty and your body's working overtime to fight it.” Daya touches his forehead, “the fever is a good thing. But, you have to know it won't make what we have to do any easier.”

“I’ve beaten the odds before, Kevvas-sake, I must have done something right once. Something that counts for moments such as these.”

“Maybe you did. I’m going to clean this, give you more herbs, and we have to hit the road again. Are you up for it?”

“I'm at your service.” He replies with a small cute bow.

After a brief break, some nursing, and more of those awful crackers they continue where they left off. It was night now and the darkness cast a feeling of danger.

When they reach the site, they scope it out first from their vantage point and come up with a plan.

Ezra was still in rough shape, but he braved the storm like a champ. This man had no doubt seen and lived a life many times over. Daya was impressed, his resilience gave her hope they could help each other and get out of this alive.

Revised 7/22/21 ! (Other chapters will be revised soon)

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