#their comms line is disgusting your honor

[thatonetimetraveller]

Chapter 1 - Cin Vhetin - Sol

Chapter 1 - Cin Vhetin - Sol

22BBY - 7955

It started out like many of his nightmares. The shriek of blaster fire and explosions deafening, his father holding him tightly to his chest. Shielding his eyes from the hulking black droid and the ever-present red glow of blaster bolts zooming past their heads. The smell of soot, blood, and fear blended into a soup of sickening stench. His heart beating almost loud enough to drown out the cries of agony of the dying and the panic of the still living. His parents ushered him into a cellar, he was shaking with fear as his mother hugged him the last time and his father placed a gentle tear-filled kiss on his temple. Then they shut the heavy metal door, he reached out but he was left in complete darkness. The sounds of the raging battle muted in his dark corner. His breathing was heavy and uncontrolled, his sobs were barely held in. He sat in silence, his red robe a comforting weight on his shoulders.

The door jerked open with a thud. Light flooded in. The shadow of the droid appeared above him, raising his arm. He held his breath for his inevitable death. A blue blaster bolt hit the droid right in its head. It fell with a thud. He glanced up expecting to see the now comfortable armor of his saviors.

The helmet that stared back was white and definitely not Mandalorian.

His savior held out a hand, arm covered in white and orange plastoid instead of beskar’gam and he flinched.

“Ibic cuyir dush” This is wrong. Din mumbled in confusion mostly to himself, but his savior tilted his head and let out a huff barely audible through the voice modulator of his helmet. Din stood and slowly climbed out of the cellar, pulling his robe tighter around himself. It was quiet now. And he glanced around his ruined home, everything was exactly how he remembered yet white troopers swarmed the streets putting down stray droids instead of Mandalorians. The troopers’ armor was painted gold, all of them with differing patterns. He cast an eye back to the cellar then to his savior. His armor was also painted gold, three lines bursting out of his cuirass in a starburst pattern both his pauldrons were completely gold as well, his helmet had extra plastoid around the visor, and an antenna attached to the comm center of the bucket.

“Su’cuy” The man spoke also in Mando’a, Din gaped in shock, his mind reeling as he suddenly noticed the design of the armor was similar to beskar’gam on a closer inspection that one might think he was Mandalorian. Din could sense the man’s gaze behind his visor as he studied him. A familiar feeling of nakedness overwhelmed him as he hid his face behind his red hood and away from the prying eyes of the soldiers nearby. He longed for his buy’ce and beskar’gam.

“Tion gar gai?” What’s your name? The man asked tenderly as he stepped closer to Din and knelt next to him, shielding him from the others. Din blinked at him, still distracted by the dream. He eyed everything with great scrutiny, trying to find a flaw in the dreamscape; blurry edges on the horizon, things that shouldn’t be there or were just missing in general, or anything that wasn’t behaving as it should. He almost groaned when he found nothing, everything seemed real. It took him a moment too long to register the question.

“Din” he answered absentmindedly, his thoughts still distracted by his search, and after this was a dream even if he couldn’t find a flaw or wake. The man seemed to think about something before he introduced himself, Din’s attention snapped back to him.

“Kote” he whispered like a secret. The anxiety that rolled off of Kote made him cringe internally.

Kote took a breath to say something when his wrist comm beeped, he sighed in fondness as he answered

“General”

“Cody, where are you?” A man’s voice came through the comm, it was heavily accented probably from the Core. Why would he dream up people from the Core? He hasn’t been there in over a decade. In a daze, Din returned to his examination of his surroundings, he touched the walls of a nearby building, kicked up some dirt, pointedly didn’t look at the dead that lay only a few feet from him, the ground stained crimson by their blood. Everything was real. He pinched himself in a vain attempt to wake up

“Meg cuyir gar vaabir?” What are you doing? Kote suddenly asked from behind him after he kicked a downed droid particularly hard making it rattle loudly. He grinned at the dark deactivated eyes of the droid in satisfaction.

“Dayn’viinir” Escape he said and picked himself again, his skin turning angry red at the repeated pinches. Kote made a noise behind his bucket.

“Cody, why are you speaking Mando’a?” The General asked through the comm, Kote jolted in surprise and the agitation in the air was prevalent.

“Hojir!” Wake up He cried out in frustration, his dream was really starting to annoy him. Anger coursed through his veins as he kicked the droid so hard that it caved in slightly. The metal crunched under his feet. Pain exploded in his unprotected shins.

“Haar’chak!” he cursed and kicked another droid, the crunching metal and wire only dulled his violent anger. Kote was next to him suddenly as Din seethed, the whispers to destroy them all was all-encompassing and alluring

“Udesii!” Kote shouted through the ringing of rage in his ears. He placed a cautious hand on Din’s shoulder and pulled him closer grounding him. The sudden shaking that seemed to crush him stopped, his breathing leveled out and the anger slowly dissipated. He did not look at Kote for he knew he would find nothing but concern there. The hair on the back of his neck stood as he felt another presence behind him just as Kote called out.

“General!” Din tensed and scrambled away from Kote embarrassment burning through him. He pulled his hood down, so it obscured most of his face and glanced at the approaching General. Kote stood and observed the man. The man was shorter than Kote, he had neatly styled ginger hair and beard. He wore no armor besides the battle-worn vambrace, and a shoulder plate painted with a symbol. Besides that, he was wearing loose cream-colored robes that swayed in the gentle wind. A jetii-kad hung loosely from his belt. The jetii surveyed the destruction around the pair of them - mostly Din’s work in his blind rage - and quirked an eyebrow at Kote then glanced at Din curiously. The ka’ra sang around the General and Din had to avert his eyes from the brightness of it.

“Hello, there” The General greeted with that posh accent of his, as he approached Din and knelt in front of him. Kote made an aborted motion with his hands but didn’t say anything, still, the apprehension and tension were clear to Din. He glanced between the two in confusion unsure why he dreamed up the pair, he never met anyone like them from his subconscious to draw on. The General’s grey eyes seemed to be searching for something, then he felt the General’s mind poking at his. It was a gentle prod barely invasive but Din still sucked in a sharp breath and fought with the disgust rolling in his stomach as the wrongness of another mind settled over him. He grit his teeth and clamped down on his feeble shields trying to keep the invading mind out. The General’s presence gently retreated and Din almost sagged in relief.

“Interesting,” the jetii murmured. Kote glanced at his General in confusion then back to the exhausted Din. He shut his eyes tightly, he really wanted to wake up now.

“Are there any other survivors?” Kote asked in a low voice, concern emanating from him. The jetii sagged in defeat

“No” was barely a whisper but still cut deep into Din’s heart even after all these decades. He took a shaky breath, closed his eyes in pain their memory still fresh on his mind

“Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la” Not gone, merely marching away Kote and the jetii stood in silence seeming to honor Din’s remembrance. When Din opened his eyes he found that the jetii was regarding him with great interest. He squirmed under his gaze, missing the comforting weight of his beskar’gam. Instead, he hid in his robe which brought him some comfort, the smell remaining him of his first parents.

“We’ll be leaving soon, young one. You’re welcome to come with us and we’ll take you back to your people or wherever you prefer” The jetii offered kindly and Din knew he wasn’t lying. Kote sucked in a breath of surprise.

“General Kenobi, the kid doesn’t speak Basic” he interjected while Din blinked at the jetii in confusion once he understood what he meant

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Kenobi only quirked his lips at Kote and finally, Din found his voice among the thousands of questions that flooded his mind

“Me’ven?” He blurted out in his bewilderment. His eyes darting between the two of them in rising panic. Where were the Mandalorians? He isn’t supposed to go with Kote and Kenobi. He’s supposed to be at the Fighting Corps being trained to be a Mando’ad. His breathing accelerated as he blindly lashed out at the forgotten droid at his feet, kicking it as hard as he could. It crumbled into pieces. He couldn’t breathe, his limbs were shaking as he lost the feeling of them entirely. He could only stare at the droid’s black mass as the image of it leveling him with a blaster flashed across his eyes more vivid than it had been in years. He kicked the slowly unrecognizable droid again in panic. He still couldn’t breathe.

“Calm down kid!” Kote was speaking to him in Basic and Din in his panicked haze didn’t understand a word. His mind hyper focused on his goal to escape from the dream or the droid? Din didn’t know. Escape, run away, not again! his mind screamed at him. Someone outside his head was also screaming in a language he once recognized. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as black spots appeared in his vision. He had to get out of here. Hands were placed on his shoulder boxing him in. He struggled. A helmet’s T-visor was leveled with his eyes. The armored man held strong against Din’s increasingly desperate and weak struggles.

“Udesii!” he ordered. The Mando’a cut through the haze of confusion and fear. Din stopped struggling, going completely limp in Kote’s hold besides his still labored breathing. Kote’s presence was like a rock grounding him in his panic.

“Dayn’viinir” He spat out between ragged breaths. His mind still buzzing with lingering fear. Kote’s presence grew concerned as his grip tightened on his shoulders.

“Tion’jor?” Why? Kote asked sorrowfully

“Ne’veman” Not real His breathing was finally under control somewhat, though he was still weak, his limbs felt like jelly and he was lightheaded. His thoughts were in a haze. Din hadn’t lost control like that since he was 12, and he can’t do it again. Shame bubbled from inside him as he worked to even out his breathing and think clearly. The Mandalorians were not coming and he couldn’t stay with the dead so he firmly looked at Kenobi hoping he’ll understand

“Elek” he breathed out and then the world turned black.

oOo

Din woke to a blinding light behind his eyelids and a pounding headache. He blinked his eyes open and had to resist the urge to groan from the sharp pain that erupted in his skull. The subtle beeping of medical equipment filtered through his hazy awareness. Why was he in a medbay? Din’s eyes snapped open to mechanical shuffling next to his bed. A medical droid was standing above him. His heart racing with unrestrained panic, Din shot up from the bed and punched the droid. Metal scrunched under his fist and the droid staggered back in surprise. Dean lunged for the droid, snatching its long arm and tearing it out with a violent tug, the sparks flew everywhere and the droid was saying something in alarm. Din rushed off his bed ripping the IV out of his arm in the process and without a second thought dashed out of the medbay, as shouts of alarm echoed behind him.

The hallway was empty and clean, the metal under his bare feet was cold and biting. The shape and design of the hallway reminded him distinctively of the Imperial Light Cruiser he’d been on and he shivered at the thought. He turned the corner and came face to face with a pair of Stormtroopers. His breath hitched as he confirmed that he’d been captured by the Imps. He ran in the opposite direction trusting his instincts, the Troopers didn’t fire on him which while strange was a blessing at least. He cursed at himself for not having a rifle, blaster, or at least a vibro-knife with him any weapon would do. He slowed to a screeching halt as the missing weight of his beskar’gam registered and new panic took hold of him. How many had seen him? These hut’uun demagolka took his runi away from him. The anger and humiliation of being stripped of his armor were all-encompassing. He wouldn’t be able to call himself a Mando’ad anymore if he was still at the Covert. He’ll have to find his armor, then kill every single one of these cowards. No one will know of his failure.

He turned down a corner and spotted a trooper standing guard. Without his usual set of weapons Din approached the guard from the blindspot he knew all buckets had and kicked him in the back of the knee just as the guard noticed him. The guard grunted in surprise but didn’t buckle like Din expected. Instead, he swung for his head, Din ducked and punched which the guard blocked effortlessly with his arm and he did not punch back. Din backed away, assessing the situation. The guard was bigger than Din so it took some effort for him to build up the momentum to slam into the guard with his whole body. A grunt escaped the armored man as they tumbled down into the ground and Din punched him on the helmet with enough force to knock him out. Din rose to his feet, legs wobbling underneath him for a moment as he keyed open the door the guard was standing in front of. It was an armory filled with blasters of varying kinds, thermal and electrical charges, and vibroblades all stacked neatly on the rows of racks. There was even a set of Z-6 Rotary Blaster Canons which he hadn’t seen in almost a decade. Din pulled on the red hood that was covering his face and ransacked the room, grabbing two smaller pistols which he strapped to his things, a larger DC-15 blaster along with a few vibroknives which he stashed up his long sleeves. He checked around looking for any armor but found nothing so he opened the door with a whoosh and stepped outside more confident with weapons in his hand. The downed trooper was still sprawled out on the floor, his chest rising faintly under the plastoid armor. Din considered finishing him off but he decided against it, his instincts screaming at him not to. So he turned down the hall avoiding the troopers the best he could.

His heart was still beating rapidly in his panic as the absence of his adi’ka settled over his chest. Even the faint feeling of their connection that he chalked up magic osik was missing, leaving Din empty. He reached out to his ad again hoping to feel him, the emptiness almost made him lose his footing and his breaths were coming out rapidly. Still, he poured as much hope and reassurance to them as he could, heart aching at the missing warmth.

“Hold on adi’ka I’ll find you” he promised as he rounded the corner and came face to face with a squad of troopers.

He shot into the group hitting one of the troopers’ squarely in the chest, downing him instantly, the stun dissipating with sizzle. The others scrambled to shoot back, similarly with stun shots. He dodged almost too late behind a supporting pillar, the habit of tanking shots with his beskar’gam was strong in him. He fired back blindly, the wall behind him lit blue by the circular stun shots. He ducked his head out to aim better and fired off a volley of shots - all still circular it hit another trooper. He glanced down at his defective blaster, he was sure he switched off of stun. He made sure to press the switch firmly but the light indicating the stun setting wouldn’t turn off, with a growl he threw the DC-15 away clattering loudly on the floor. He grabbed both of the pistols then dashed out of cover while firing downing the last two troopers, their last shots were too close for comfort. On a whim, he glanced at the squad of troopers and drew to a stop. They were not Stormtrooper armor, a bit bulkier and similar to beskar’gam. Their armor was customized painted with orange in varying designs each similar yet unique in their own way, they couldn’t have done that in the Empire. The color reminded him of Kote’s armor in his dream. Something wasn’t right. He sighed and shook his head clearing his foggy mind. He had to find Grogu - that was the only goal he focused on, the missing feeling of his presence was unsettling. A trooper with familiar armor turned down the corner. Din stared at him in shock. What was Kote doing on an Imperial Cruiser? The haze in his mind was overwhelming, he didn’t know where he was and he couldn’t think.

“Kote?” he blurted out in confusion. Kote raised his blaster and stunned him before he could react or move. He collapsed bonelessly.

oOo

Obi-Wan stared at the boy they picked up on Aq-Vetina through the observation glass. He was sleeping on the bed thrashing and turning in his sleep, Helix was there monitoring and tending to his condition and to make sure the boy didn't attempt another escape since the first thing he did was rip the med-droid’s arm out. The boy was young 12 standard, with soft brown hair and eyes, dressed in the traditional red robes of his home planet, and clearly traumatized by the Separatist attack. He looked like an unassuming child, except for the Force swirled around him strangely and he took down some of the best in the 212th effortlessly like a seasoned warrior far beyond his age, in an attempt to escape. Thankfully none of the troopers were badly injured besides their bruised egos. This child was a mystery Obi-Wan was eager to solve. Cody walked up to him and glanced at the still sleeping boy.

“Do you think this was a Separatist ploy, sir?” Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully

“No. There is something off about him, but it doesn’t appear to be dangerous” He hadn’t got any warnings from the Force relating to the boy since the weird ripple he felt just before they diverted course to Aq-Vetina. The Force wanted him to find the boy. That Obi-Wan was sure of. But why? Obi-Wan sighed

“Still, I posted Waxer and Crys outside just in case he tries to run again” Obi-Wan gave a small smile of amusement at that. Waxer was just a shiny but he was the one guarding the armory and whom the boy took down with the grace of a seasoned fighter.

“You said he spoke Mando’a?” Obi-Wan turned to face Cody, he nodded but he kept his eyes on the boy

“Yes. More fluent than any vode and with a strange accent. I barely understood him” Cody paused mulling over his thoughts “He said some karking strange things, like he was half mad” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that prompting his Commander to continue “He was confused, blabbering about escaping as he examined everything in a daze like he was dreaming and expecting to wake up but couldn’t”

“You don’t think it was trauma?” Obi-Wan prodded and Cody shook his head

“No. He was distressed by the sight of us especially when you showed up sir and offered to take him away. He was clearly expecting someone else” Obi-Wan hummed in thought and turned back to the boy. What was a Force sensitive Mandalorian child doing on Aq-Vatina? Why would he accept to come with them then attack them?

A shout and a rattle broke him out of his thoughts. The boy was sitting on top of Helix, eyes dancing around wildly like a caged animal. The Force rippled around him dangerously, as anger, fear and confusion enveloped the room. Obi-Wan put a hand on Cody’s arm without tearing his eyes away from the scene

“Where are they?” The boy asked in a dangerously low and threatening tone even though he had no weapon. When Helix didn’t answer, silenced in his confusion the boy’s glare morphed into ice.

“What have you done to him?”

“Who?” Helix finally found his voice just as Cody wrenched his arm out of his hold, but reluctantly remained in the room since Helix held up a hand to signal to him that everything was under control. Obi-Wan strengthened his shields from the onslaught of negative emotions around him. The boy scoffed as if he didn’t believe him.

“Where is the child?” he questioned, his elbow pressing down threateningly on Helix’s throat, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow

“What child? There is no child on board besides you” Helix ground out and Cody marched out of the room with a furious expression on his face, he shoved his helmet on his head and busted into the room. Obi-Wan sighed and followed behind though he tried to be less confrontational about his entrance. The boy’s head raised in alarm at the sound of the hissing doors then blinked in confusion at the two of them, relaxing his stance on top of Helix

“Kote?” He whispered. Helix climbed out of the boy’s relaxed hold and glared at them

“What are you doing here? I had it under control” Helix hissed

“Like sith hells you were, vod” After another vicious glare from behind his visor Cody turned to the boy, who was glancing at them suspiciously the anger in the Force evaporating replaced by overwhelming confusion. Cody glared at the boy voice firm under his helmet

“Who are you?” The boy blinked, all fight left him as Cody hauled him and cuffed him to the post of the bed. The boy didn’t answer, only glared at him. Cody continued when it was clear he wouldn't answer.

“Did the Separatists send you?” The boy jolted at that, his face and Force presence morphing through several from fear to anger and then settling back into confusion

“What does the Separatist have to do with any of this?” Bewilderment was evident in his voice as he tugged lower in an attempt to hide his face. Cody glanced at Obi-Wan through his helmet

“You attacked several of my men,” Cody stated. The boy stilled

“I did?” He raised both his eyebrows, and the shock was clear on his face “Those were your men. I don’t understand” he mumbled, then his eyes snapped up to Obi-Wan’s “What’s a jetii doing here on a cruiser?” He asked more venom in his voice and Obi-Wan blinked

“I’m the commanding officer,” Obi-Wan said. The boy glanced around, first to the walls then to Cody and Helix, and finally back to Obi-Wan

“I…That’s not right” he murmured again and examined his hands with strange fascination.

Helix knelt next to the boy and placed a hand on his knee

“Let’s start with something easy,” Helix said, projecting calmness into the Force. The boy’s head perked up and watched Helix with sharp eyes behind the veil of the hood

“How old are you?” He asked and the boy bit his lip in thought

“44,” He said. Cody barely caught a gasp of surprise and Obi-Wan swayed. What happened to this child?

“Alright. Can you tell me where you are?” Helix was still calm, hiding his surprise behind a wall of professionalism. The boy’s nose scrunched up in confusion and he did another cursory glance around the room

“A Light Cruiser, not the kind I thought at first though” Helix nodded

“You’re on the Negotiator, flagship of the 212th Attack Battalion of the GAR” The boy went impossibly still at that his Force presence blanked out then exploded with so much force that Obi-Wan staggered

“Me’ven?” The boy reverted back to Mando’a as he glanced at the three of them then he turned his sharp gaze at Cody and stared into his eyes through the visor

“Am I still dreaming, Kote?” His Commander stiffened, tugged his helmet off, set it on a nearby table, and ran a hand through his regulation cut hair before sighing. He looked at the boy seriously

“No” he stated and the boy deflated, his eyes tracking their positions in the room

“Me’bana?” What happened? He whispered, his posture hunched over his head buried in his hands hiding his face from them. Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Helix.

“You were the only survivor of the attack on Aq-Vetina. We brought you onboard to give you treatment and return you to your family. You woke up about 4 hours ago and tore a med-droid’s arm off and attacked my men” Cody explained gently, making sure to keep his voice steady and clear. The boy stiffened and peeked out from between his fingers

“Ni ceta, Kote” The boy’s voice shook as he kept repeating the apology, tugging at his robes in distress, his breathing slowly increasing in speed and intensity as anxiety, panic, and confusion rolled off of him in the Force. Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words, with no idea how to ground the boy in his sense of reality. Cody stepped closer to the boy telegraphing his movements as the boy lifted his head just enough to peek at Cody with fearful eyes. His apologies had stopped when Cody knelt in front of the child and held out his hand as an offering but the boy shrunk in on himself and did not take it.

“Gar morut’yc” You are safe. Cody murmured voice softer than anything Obi-Wan had heard from him. The boy’s shoulders shook

“K'lamot di'dunla” Apology accepted Cody softly said as he undid the cuffs with a soft click. The boy threw his arms around Cody and hid his face in the pauldron of Cody’s armor. His body shook with silent sobs, Cody murmured low and gentle words to him in Mando’a. The boy whispered something to Cody who tensed for a second before he untangled himself from the mess of limbs. He grabbed his helmet and stared at the T-visor for a long moment. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as Cody placed the bucket on the boy’s head and gave it a soft affectionate pat. The low constant hum of anxiety that’s been plaguing Obi-Wan since they found the boy finally quieted down to a shimmer.

“Vor entye” Thank you the boy said, his voice deeper and more confident under the helmet’s voice modulator. The boy’s shoulders relaxed as most of the anxiety and tension dissipated into the Force. Cody gave the boy a gentle smile, his presence wavering with intense emotions

“Feeling better?” Cody asked, his voice still low. The boy nodded, his too big bucket wobbled precariously on his head. Obi-Wan let out an amused huff, and Cody smiled softly as the boy placed a hand on it to stabilize it.

Obi-Wan hanged back as Helix moved to kneel next to Cody keeping level with the boy’s T-visor

“Hey kid, my name is Helix,” he said gently, though the hint of fear still lingered in the Force as he said his name, then he pointed to Cody with his thumb

“You know Kote already, but make sure to only call him that around Vode or the General, he is Cody otherwise. And that’s General Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he introduced them. The boy was more alert, both in the Force and in reality now that he had a helmet, nodded to Obi-Wan in greeting though wariness still seeped out of him. Then he turned his head to Cody

“I understand”

“What should we call you?” Helix asked, his voice quiet and conspiratorial barely loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear. He knew names were important and sacred to the Clones; it’s their identity just like their armor. All of their names were chosen by themselves and reflected who they were on some inner level. No Clone called the other something they did not willingly share with the rest. It took months for his own battalion to warm up to him and share their names, Obi-Wan treasured every single one of them to memory and mourned the ones they lost, just like the rest of the Vode. The boy was deep in thought

“Beroya,” He decided. Bounty hunter - interesting choice Obi-Wan thought and Helix hummed

“Alright, Beroya. You don’t have to answer but could you tell us why you were dreaming?” Helix’s voice was gentle as he took one of Beroya’s hand in his own when he sensed the boy pull away from them. Terror spiked in the Force and Obi-Wan had to suppress a flinch as the terrified emotions of Beroya attacked his shields.

“Gar morut’yc” Cody murmured and Beroya sighed barely loud enough for his helmet’s voice modulator to pick up

“It happened before,” he mumbled. Obi-Wan straightened his attention solely focused on the hunched over the boy as he continued to talk “It was different than my usual nightmares, I usually die in them and it was different from the first time where Buir saved me and took me to the Fighting Corps, and I became a Mando’ad. But this time you save me Kote so I thought I must be having a nice dream for once” The boy’s presence grew solemn

“How long have you been having these visions?” Obi-Wan asked, sure that the boy was Force sensitive and suffered from strong realistic visions. Dissociation was and losing a sense of reality was a common side effect of untrained Seers. Beroya cocked his head to the side the helmet banging against his skull with a soft thud

“Visions?” He asked, confused. Obi-Wan sighed and stepped closer making sure not to crowd the boy

“Your dreams” Beroya balked

“The first time was not a dream. It's a memory” Helix’s hand flexed on the boy’s

“When did this happen to you?” He asked, his voice gentle but with a certain edge to it. Beroya hummed in thought

“About 30 years ago” The boy looked about 12 standard but his Force signature was older. And Obi-Wan had to do a double take just to make sure, how had he not noticed this before

“Ok kid, what year is it?” Cody asked and received a confused head tilt

“Uh… 10ABY” Obi-Wan furrowed his eyebrows, that wasn’t a dating system he was familiar with by the confused looks on his troopers neither were they

“ABY?” Helix asked “Sorry kid, not familiar with that system. How about CRC?”

“Hang on” He seemed to be doing some sort of calculation in his head “7987” Obi-Wan sucked in a breath of surprise, that’s 32 years into the future but he could sense no lie from the boy. How tough? Time travel hadn’t been documented in nearly a millennium and could have dangerous far reaching consequences.

“Are you sure?” Helix asked voice probing but betraying nothing of his skepticism

“Ori’haat” It’s the truth Beroya’s voice was unwavering as he stared down the pair of troopers. Cody bolted from his seat and began pacing in the small room, his thoughts a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Beroya tilted his helmet as he followed Cody’s agitated movements.

“You mentioned a child when you woke up. Who is this child you were looking for?” Obi-Wan asked, cutting through the tense atmosphere of the room. The boy’s head snapped to him, the Force around him going through a complicated set of emotions, mainly distrust though. He sighed with weariness that came from a long hard life, not of the 12 year old boy. He tugged on his robes and Cody was staring holes into the side of his head.

“Promise me you won’t hand them over” There was an edge of violence in his voice that could only come from a paternal role. Obi-Wan stroked his beard in thought. Who would want this child? There are many despicable factions out there that would gladly kidnap a youngling, Slaver especially but they were on the edge of Mandalorian space and they were very fond of children, well until the New Mandalorians took power, adoption became less common with them. And Beroya seemed to think that they would put this youngling in harm’s way. That was a troubling thought. But Obi-Wan did not voice any of that, afraid it might cause the distrustful boy to lose what little trust they did build between them, and keep his mouth shut or attempt another escape. So Obi-Wan promised

“They are small, green, have large eyes and ears and their species ages very slowly, I was told they are 50” Beroya began reluctantly and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow; that sounded an awful lot like a member of Master Yoda’s species. Cody tensed besides Beroya seeming to come to the same conclusion. The boy sensing their mild reaction looked at both of them in surprise

“You know their species?” He asked

“Yes” Obi-Wan did not say anything more but the curiosity in the boy grew

“Please continue. Do they have a name?” Obi-Wan asked. Maybe with a name, he could find this youngling who was most likely Force sensitive.

“They are special he has…” he waved his hand around in a vague gesture “powers, so they want them” He paused as if debating something. Obi-Wan’s list of kidnappers shrunk; not many would kidnap a Force sensitive child, especially one from Yoda’s species unless they wanted the wrath of the Jedi descending on them. He did notice that Beroya left out the youngling’s name.

“He’s supposed to be with the jetii Skywalker, but I don’t feel him anymore so when I woke here I thought the Empire had him”

The room was silent as all three occupants stared at Beroya in shock, then erupted into a mixture of hurried questions

“You don’t feel him?” Helix asked

“Empire?” Cody’s voice was distressed

“What has Anakin done now?” Obi-Wan muttered in exasperation. Knowing his former Padawan, nothing good. Obi-Wan felt the beginning of a headache forming, there was just so much to unpack with that one sentence alone, let alone karking time travel. Mace would have a field day with the amount of shatter point around Beroya. Obi-Wan sighed as the boy blinked in confusion not knowing who to answer first.

“Let’s start with the important one. Empire?” Cody asked again and dread began to build in his stomach at the thought of whatever future the boy came from or witnessed

“Yes. It rose to power after the Clone Wars had ended” Cody sucked in a pained breath

“We lost?” He asked quietly and defeated, Obi-Wan’s heart ached. Beroya shrugged

“I don’t know much but from what rumors I heard it was some sort of coup” Who would have the power to overthrow the Galactic Senate? And why didn’t the Jedi stop them? Force was getting murkier since Master Qui-Gon died and this confirmed some of Obi-Wan deepest fears, a Sith Lord was pulling the string. Dooku told him but he didn’t believe him, it's still hard to believe but he must stay vigilant from now on.

“What I do know was that they killed anyone opposing them, sometimes wiping the populations of a planet” Beroya shuddered “Including turning Manda’yaim into a glass waste and destroying Alderaan” His voice was barely above a whisper as he withdrew himself from the Force. Everyone in the room was deathly silent.

“What do you mean destroyed?” Helix asked with barely restrained horror

“My friend told me, they just blew it to pieces” his voice was hollow under the helmet and everyone reeled back in shock and horror. Cody’s hand twitched with the urge to throw something as a pained expression sat on his face

“What? Where were the Jedi?” Something awfully cold gripped Obi-Wan’s heart and refused to let go. Beroya glanced at his lightsaber for the first time and impossible sorrow emanated from him as he tilted his head to gaze at his own hands, voice barely loud enough for the bucket’s voice modulator to pick up.

“I haven’t heard of the Jedi until about a year ago from the Armorer, she told me that they were enemy sorcerers of the Mando’ade and I only met two” Too many questions filtered through Obi-Wan’s mind. He wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the room and meditate for an entire week.

“Who did you meet?” Obi-Wan’s voice trembled and Cody’s head snapped up at that his eyes boring into the side of his skull

“A Togruta I think her name was Ahsoka and Skywalker” Obi-Wan sighed in relief at least Anakin was okay

“Is the Empire still around, kid?” Cody asked, voice gruff. Beroya shook his head mindful of the wobbling helmet

“No, the Empire fell about 5 years ago” There was only silence in the small room. Everyone was trying to digest the hoard of information thrown at them.

The shrill beeping of Obi-Wan’s comm cut through the silence, he caught from the corner of his eye as Beroya jumped at the sudden noise. Obi-Wan answered the comm with a little apprehension

“Kenobi”

“General, the Jedi Council wants to speak with you” Feedback’s voice filtered through, a bit tense not used to dealing with the Jedi. Obi-Wan sighed

“I’ll be right there,” he thanked the comm’s officer before he shut off his comm unit. He turned to Helix

“Take care of him” he nodded towards the slumping boy, who was nodding off in exhaustion. Helix saluted and Obi-Wan turned to leave Cody following behind. The halls were almost deserted in the night shift

“Transfer all of the recordings to a secure datapad and delete everything from the records” Cody blinked at him

“Sir?” he glanced at his Commander

“No one can know what was said in that room. It could have dangerous and far reaching consequences” The Force sent the boy back for a reason, and Obi-Wan intends to avert the terrible future he saw. Cody stiffened and nodded sharply, his eyes hardening with experience

“Yes, sir!” his voice was firm and Obi-Wan had no doubt it would be done. He stroked his beard thoughtfully

“Ask the quartermaster if he has any appropriate armor for Beroya, discreetly of course” Cody smiled in amusement.

They arrived at the comms center and the holograms of the Jedi Counselors were already present casting the darkened room into a faint blue glow. He stepped up to the holoprojector The Force heavy in the back of his mind. Cody stood behind him just out of sight of the rest of the Jedi, his presence oddly comforting

“Masters” he greeted with a bow

“Master Kenobi, Did you find what you were looking for on Aq-Vetina?” Master Plo Koon asked, his voice probing behind his ventilator. Obi-Wan had sensed a disturbance in the Force - a nexus building for the past couple of weeks. The Jedi Council was reluctant to send someone out to investigate since Aq-Vetina was on the edge of Mandalorian space and the Jedi are spread thin as is. When he felt the pressure in the Force build yesterday so strong that it nearly threw him off his feet, Obi-Wan ordered the Negotiator to Aq-Vetina without hesitation or waiting for the Council’s permission. He only briefed them after they picked up Beroya and that was cut short by his attempted escape. Now he was certain the Force wanted him to find the boy, he smiled ruefully understanding how Master Qui-Gon felt when he found Anakin

“There was a small scale Separatist attack on the planet. We managed to destroy their forces but there was only one survivor” He let the grief pass through him and into the Force. The Jedi were silent mourning the loss of life

“The Nexus?”

“I believe it's the boy we rescued. He is strong with the Force and he had strong and vivid visions to the point of dissociating.” The last time a Jedi so powerful with the Unifying Force had such visions led to the creation of the clones and this subsequent war. Obi-Wan was still unsure if the boy actually came from the future but he wisely kept his mouth shut about that tidbit of information, not wanting to alarm the Council further. Plus the Force was telling him not to, a bad feeling rose in his gut even at the thought of saying anything. Another long silence, this one heavier than the last. Master Windu leaned forward stapling his fingers as he observed Obi-Wan.

“What did the boy See?” he asked after a long pause. Obi-Wan steeled himself, letting the horror of the vision wash over him

“He Saw the fall of the Republic and an Empire rising from its ashes. The Empire destroyed the Jedi and then many worlds including Mandalore and Alderaan” Even summarized, the vision was laced with darkness, like the Force around them. Dark and sticky like tar covering everything that touches it with a sense of dread and unease, suffocating everything in its wake. The silence this time was filled with mute horror as each Jedi tried to release their emotions into the Force

“How would they wipe the Order out?” There were grumblings of displeasure among the Council and Obi-Wan sighed getting ready for a long meeting as an argument broke out between Master Mace and Yoda. They debated the validity of Beroya’s vision to their limited options and even if they should heed his warning

“Always the future in motion is” Master Yoda finished the argument, and the rest of the Council agreed that they needed more information to agree on the next course of action. Obi-Wan wanted to rip out his hair at that expected development as one of the oldest in the Council Master Yoda had the final say in most matters and he often downplayed the significance of visions as he was more aligned with the Living Force, and he had seen too many Jedi fall due to chasing visions and prophecies. Still, it was maddening because of the nature of the information Beroya presented.

Master Yoda regarded him with thoughtful eyes

“More to say, have you?” Obi-Wan tugged his hands into the sleeves of his rope in consideration

“Yes. The boy was looking for a youngling when he woke” He did not tell them about his escape attempt, likely due to not being able to tell vision from reality apart. “He described the youngling as a member of Master Yoda’s species, clearly Force sensitive and about 20-25 standard. I believe he Saw a future with him as their guardian” A flicker of recognition passed through Master Koon

“Initiate Grogu had been quite loud in the past few days” Master Koon rumbled, his voice deep through the ventilator mask. “They appeared to have formed a strong bond with someone and had been insisting on finding them” Obi-Wan stroked his beard in thought and readied himself for the fallout of his next decision

“Master, may I request a meeting between them?” He looked each of the Masters in the eyes confident that his decision was right. The Council erupted into a shouting match as each Master tried to weigh in their voice in the debate. They debated for hours grilling Obi-Wan on his decision and about Beroya, the debate kept circling back to the question of attachment several times

“Bring the boy to the Jedi you will” Finally Master Yoda agreed though by the down turn of his long ears he wasn’t happy. “Test the boy we will. Decide then his relationship with Initiate Grogu” Master Yoda was particularly protective of Grogu since not many of his species were known. Obi-Wan nodded in acceptance

“Thank you Master” He brewed and then sagged in weariness, this Council meeting had been one of the longer ones since the war started. He could feel Cody’s exhaustion through the Force though he stood to attention despite it

“We have considered your petition to appoint a Padawan to knight Skywalker” Master Mundi began. Obi-Wan had to suppress a tired groan, it appears it wasn’t over yet

“While still young the responsibility of a Padawan should teach both of them to become a better Jedi” Master Windu continued. Hope soared in his heart and a small smile crossed his face

“Chosen we have. Initiate Tano meeting you at Christophsis she will” Yoda finished

“Thank you Masters” Obi-Wan bowed, Anakin will freak out at first but he’ll love his new Padawan, he was certain of that. Then the Council briefed them that the aid Senator Organa brought to the planet was in danger of failing due to a blockade around the planet. They’ll have to rendezvous with the 501st and with a stealth ship bring aid to Senator Organa and free the planet if possible. Once the Masters finished briefing him the holocall faded out leaving the room dim and quiet. Obi-Wan sighed and turned to Cody

“Ready the men, we’re being deployed at Christophsis.”

[feminaexlux]

All That Matters  (Pt 2: They’re Multiplyin’ and I’m Losing Control)

Part 2 of All That Matters. Part 1 here

Find this on AO3 here!

⁂

Ladybug convinced a newly transformed Dragon Noir to use Water form and launch himself into the sky. He'd be able to get a look at what was happening from a bird's eye view and find Queen Wasp and the other Miraculous holders. Dragon Noir was hovering above Paris in a large water bubble at the peak of his arc when he contacted her. "Hey 'Bug, she's at the Trocadero, and… you're right," Dragon Noir sighed. "She's got the other heroes all brainwashed and suited up. Except Ka--uh, the fencer girl is just… standing there."

"Is she okay? M-Master Fu isn't with them, is he?" Ladybug asked nervously.

"I think she's fine, just… non-responsive. I don't see him. Am I supposed to see him?" Dragon Noir asked, concerned.

"No! No." Ladybug breathed out a sigh of relief. "Just… just that Queen Wasp doesn't have access to all of the Miraculous then," Ladybug said. Okay. Master Fu was still safe, to a degree. Even though he wasn't really the Guardian anymore.

"Master Fu" was, in fact, not even a real person anymore.

There had been one too many close calls with Master Fu being nearly discovered by Mayura and Hawkmoth, and with Marinette being as hyper-competent as she was, Fu made the decision to retire earlier in the late summer. After all, the Order had been restored and he was no longer the last of his kind. Marinette had proven herself worthy of Guardianship time and time again. He was just too old, too weak, too slow to react and adapt.

Fu had handed over the Miracle Box to Ladybug at the end of summer. His penultimate act as Guardian was to tell her who King Monkey was after handing out the Monkey Miraculous to Kim. Ladybug became the new Guardian of the Miraculous in secret, and the person that was "Master Fu, Guardian of the Miraculous" was no more after he lost all of his memories.

There was one final "gift" that Master Fu had left Ladybug before his memories were erased. Fu had given her his blessing to use him as a decoy. Better to have Hawkmoth track down and find a dead end in a broken old man than wreak more havoc with more Miraculous under his command.

The knowledge of whoever Chat Noir was underneath the mask got lost along with Fu's memories. But that was fine to Ladybug. Chat Noir was simply her partner, and that was enough.

Though losing Master Fu as her mentor and confidante had been such a huge blow to Marinette. She had spent a week crying in secret until Luka had surprised her one day, visiting her in her room. "Thought I'd join you here if that's alright," Luka had said, and Marinette let him stay with her. He'd just smiled and held out his hands to her. He hadn't even asked what was wrong. He was just present, letting her cry in his arms until she couldn't anymore. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

It had been a good long time until she was able to speak again. "You're already helping me," Marinette had said quietly, pressing herself into the hug. "This is all that I need."

Ladybug shook her head to get back to the present. She stuck her head out of the water and took a quick scan of her surroundings, making sure she wasn't spotted by anything. She got out of the river, drying out the Lucky Charm scarf as best she could. "Tikki, Mullo, Unify!" This was another Big Secret Marinette kept to herself: that she'd been keeping Mullo's Miraculous on her. It had changed a bit recently, now representing itself as a necklace with a pendant shaped like a guitar pick that she hid under her shirt. Marinette was paranoid enough that she couldn't let anyone see her wear the necklace. Multimouse had detransformed in front of Chat Noir, after all.

Sometimes she transformed into Multimouse without any akumas to deal with - breaking her own rule of not using the Miraculous for personal reasons - to be as small as she felt sometimes and hide away from the world. She and Tikki had a lot of heart to heart conversations tucked into a hatbox in one corner of her room.

This time, she was using it to just be stealthy. She used Multitude to split into several smaller versions of herself, fanning across a large area and running down different streets and alleyways toward the Trocadero.

"She's calling herself Miracle Queen," Dragon Noir mused. "The… the others are surrounding her to defend her. I'd say we're in quite a pickle, my Lady."

Multibug didn't stop running. "How do you feel about trying to draw the honor guard away?" one of her asked.

Dragon Noir snorted. "On it. Easy as pie." Over the comms Ladybug heard her partner shout "Hey there demons, it's me, ya boi Chat Noir! I'm standing right here. You brain-dead zombies want my miraculous? Come and get it!"

…

Okay…

One of the Multibugs pulled out her yoyo and took a look at the screen. Dragon Noir's spot on her map kept jumping around, pulling the group of the other heroes away as they all chased after him. Pegasus was using Voyage to keep trying to intercept but Dragon Noir bounced off in a different direction as fast as lightning. She had to give props to Chat, he sure knew how to play that cat-and-mouse game well.

But Dragon Noir wouldn't be able to keep this up forever if Viperion was working against them. She needed to take down Viperion and this Miracle Queen, and she needed to do that as soon as possible. She kept moving forward, scurrying across as fast as she could to get to cover or hide behind or underneath things, trying to close in and surround Miracle Queen from as many angles as she could get at the Trocadero.

One of her got close, so close. Miracle Queen was standing in front of a line of golden statues, and a Multibug was hiding behind one of the statue plinths when she got grabbed from behind. "Aahhh!" she squeaked out loud.

"Not ssso fassst, little moussse," Viperion said as he turned her toward his face, stressing his s's in what was probably a mockery of Sass. "You'll never get the drop on me, can't you see?" He turned toward Miracle Queen and bowed to her with Multibug firm in his grip. "I've found a pest, My Queen."

Multibug held back another squeak. "Lu--Viperion! Viperion, don't do this, don't listen to her! Don't let her control you!" She had been so sure that Dragon Noir had led them all away, how did Viperion surprise her?! She realized he must have used Second Chance and timed it so he knew just when to turn back and stop her. The other heroes must have coordinated to trick Dragon Noir!

Miracle Queen turned her head lazily, examining her nails with a sour look after giving a quick glance at Viperion presenting her the Multibug in his left hand. "Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. A rat? That's the best you could do, Ladybug?" Miracle Queen leaned in and looked closer at Multibug. "Hmm. Although you do have your Miraculous, but they're so tiny. I don't know how much more useless you could possibly be, but…" A wasp manifested above the Queen's hand, hovering and ready to strike.

There was a lightning fast zzzip and a yoyo snatched up the wasp from right in front of Miracle Queen before she realized what happened. Miracle Queen cried out, looking up only to have a pair of Multibugs drop down from above and wrap the scarf tight around her face, blocking her vision entirely. "What the-- Aaaah!" Miracle Queen screamed as she stumbled backward.

Viperion started reaching for his bracelet but the Multibug in his hand reached out as fast as she could and held back the serpent's head to prevent the reset. The two Multibugs that dropped merged together, and another larger Multibug emerged from the shadows. The 2 larger Multibugs lassoed Viperion's left and right wrists with their jump ropes and pulled away from each other, forcing Viperion's arms apart. They coordinated and pulled their ropes backward, unbalancing Viperion and dragging him off his feet to slam his back up against a statue plinth, knocking the breath out of him. This allowed the Multibug in his hand to wriggle free and pull off his bracelet as he struggled against his bindings.

Miracle Queen pulled off the scarf and threw it on the ground just as a detransformed Luka fell to his knees, the jump ropes untying smoothly from his wrists as the Multibugs pulled away and sprinted off in different directions. "DISGUSTING! Ugh!" She stomped toward Luka and grabbed the collar of his shirt and forced him to look up at her. "You're so useless!"

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

Miracle Queen looked to her side, where a fully sized Multibug was glaring at her. "What, this piece of trash?" Miracle Queen mocked, picking a struggling Luka up by the throat until he was hanging a few inches off the ground. "He belongs with the rest of the filthy garbage!" She threw him at Multibug.

"Luka! No!" Multibug rushed in to catch him and they collided, sending them both tumbling to the ground. She sat up with Luka cradled in her arms, he was still dazed from the impact and mind control but it seemed like he was slowly recovering. Her face was set in rage when she looked up at Miracle Queen. "How could you?!"

Instead of responding Miracle Queen summoned a new swarm of wasps. Miracle Queen commanded her wasps to "Get her!" just as Multibug's earrings beeped, starting the countdown to her powers running out.

Multibug growled, trying to decide between letting Luka down to deal with the threat or getting them both out of there as fast as possible. She made her decision, throwing out her yoyo and hooking it onto a railing, pulling her and Luka away from the Trocadero as fast as she could manage trying to outpace the wasps. But even after a few swings the wasps were still pursuing and inching in closer, much too close for comfort. Multibug wasn't sure where she could go that would be safe so she gritted her teeth and dove both her and Luka into the Seine.

⁂

Luka's head was swimming in black and white static. It felt like he was floating in a sea of quicksand, getting swallowed up and drowning in grainy noise. He couldn't have any thoughts of his own last longer than a second, they'd all been drowned out by this stupid buzzing. He must have gone crazy.

"--bzzzkrrzzzzkstshshhbzzzshzzzLuka!bzzzsrrkzstzz--" Wait, that was… that sounded like-- "--rrrbkzzzzshshkstbzzzssskchssshbrLuka!rssshkzzzbzkrrrrbzzz--" Marinette! For one split second he saw her. She'd been panicked, looking up at him with worry. He hated that he made her feel this way.

He felt his legs being forced to move. Something was tugging at his hand, something warm, something small, but the sensation of it kept slipping away unless he fought hard to concentrate on it. Then it let go, letting him fully sink back into the static. He could sense that he'd been walking for some time, and then he stopped. There was this… grating noise on top of the static that must have been someone's voice tell him something… something about… the Miraculous?

Hissing sounds started overlying the buzzing in the background. He felt something tightly coil at his wrist, and when he could stop and focus against the pressure wave of sound that pressed into him from all sides, he noticed that a lot of that hissing came from… that coil? It was shapeless, the definition of its boundaries lost in the black and white grainy spots that covered his vision.

He felt that thing that was hissing bite into his wrist, and man, ouch, what the heck was that-- He started seeing distinct outlines and colors, forms and shapes, could hear silence beyond the buzzing… He could faintly see Sass? That little guy was sinking his fangs into Luka's wrist… He almost got back in control of his senses with the pain from Sass' bite when it felt like his head got yanked back by an invisible hand and it slammed his head forward into the static, sending him back into confusion.

Wait, could he… he couldn't tell if he was breathing, but he could still feel his heartbeat. He needed to focus on that, maybe try to feel the pattern, feel the pulse, meditate on that constant rhythm like a metronome. Could he break free from the static with that?

Sass bit him again. Luka was hoping it was the kwami trying to help more than hurt Luka. He trusted Sass, didn't he? Yeah. Yeah, why did he question that? There was a blinding flash that forced Luka to blink and he forgot about both his meditation and Sass trying to get his attention. What might have been an eternity or a few seconds later, there was another flash, but Luka tried to keep his eyes open. He could swear he saw Sass more clearly in that flash, but what did that mean?

There was another flash. Followed by two more. He'd grabbed something in his left hand. Mouse, he suddenly thought. "--zzzzzzbzzzzhssssssssshshshchtchssszzzzViperion!brrsssszzzzzrrzzz--" Viperion? Was that who he was? Were the blinding flashes his use of Second Chance? Wait… who was calling him? He had the faintest impression of red, or pink maybe, or blue-- Marinette's eyes were staring back up in fear, in pleading -- why couldn't he help her? He wanted to make her happy but he'd just been so--

"You're so useless!"

Yeah. He knew that.

The static noise abruptly stopped and he was looking up at yellow and black, the masked face of Miracle Queen. Her magenta eyes were narrowed and mocking and full of derision. She lifted him by the throat and he was struggling against her, but then he got flung aside. Marinette's voice cut through the lingering thick fog in his mind. "Luka! No!" He landed on something softer than the concrete ground. "How could you?!" Marinette yelled at Miracle Queen, sounding the most angry he'd ever heard her.

Wait, this wasn't Marinette… was it? Luka had tried to get a better look at the girl who was holding him up but then she sent them both soaring through the sky, pulled along by her… magic yoyo. Ladybug? She didn't look like Ladybug… or no he saw some red and black along with the pink and gray of the rest of her suit.

His face was right next to hers. He heard the beeping of her earrings get faster. He also heard Chat Noir's voice coming through Ladybug(?)'s earrings. "Sorry 'Bug, I'm out -- I gotta recharge!"

"Me too!" Ladybug replied, yelling over the wind. "Sorry Luka, we're going in," she said more quietly, pulling him in closer and cradling his head against her chest. Then they both plunged into the Seine.

⁂

To be continued...

Oh boy what a pickle >_>

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 31- An Obitine Story

There was much to discuss when the immediate battle was over. Anakin had killed Dooku, and Master Yoda insisted they have sessions to meditate together. The Sith Lord Palpatine’s trial was approaching and the Council themselves were very busy. Fortunately for Satine, Korkie was able to show Tristan a back entrance to avoid the paparazzi already showing up at the palace front steps. Tyra was allowed to accompany Mara back to the palace as well, her master discussed strategies with Satine and her advisors, and Obi-Wan went to retrieve Jynn and Lyra, as well as the birth certificates.

“Dear God, Duchess,” Prime Minister Jaru frowned, “you’ve been friends with the Jedi for over eighteen years?”

Satine gave Quinlan a nod.

“The Duchess and Master Kenobi have eighteen-year-old twins, sixteen-year-old twins, twins who are a year old-”

“Eight months.” Satine corrected.

“And,” Quinlan paused for permission, “the Duchess is expecting triplets.”

The silence was so heavy Satine wanted to punch something.

“We need to worry about the line of succession,” the Prime Minister said finally, “Parliament will have to approve your marriage.”

Satine flinched.

“They will likely join the line after you’re married,” Jaru stated, reading the signs, “but this is quite the scandal.”

Just then, Satine’s news alert buzzed. She read the headline and smiled.

“Duchess?”

“My sister has commented,” the Duchess straightened, “she supports me, saying that tradition would be against her marriage, and that we can honor tradition without sticking to outdated ideas.”

Master Vos cheered as polite applause took hold of the room.

“That is helpful,” the Prime Minister agreed, “but a press conference will be needed.”

“I have an idea,” Quinlan held up a hand, “the ancient monarchies used to hold ceremonies to welcome their new children.”

An idea clicked in Satine’s head.

“A ball,” she announced, “a ball and an old-fashioned welcoming ceremony for the triplets.”

One of her aides began taking notes.

“We should invite influential Parliament members,” another advisor added, “and the whole court.”

“Agreed,” Jaru nodded, “let’s craft the announcement.”

After that chore was done, Satine and her advisors moved on to the press conference that she and Obi-Wan would give.

“We should also like the Jedi Council for a statement,” Quinlan suggested, “saying how Obi-Wan is leaving.”

Everyone agreed this was a good idea.

Quinlan stood, “I’ll contact them now.”

The Prime Minister had three aides type up the announcement they’d crafted, as well as adding the detail about the press conference. After checking it over, Satine told more guards to be stationed around the entrances and gave the go ahead.

“The Council has agreed to say something,” Quinlan announced, coming back in, “they recommend that we set the conference for after the Sith Lord’s trial.”

“I think that is wise,” Satine agreed, “the trial is tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes,” Quinlan nodded, “and Obi-Wan is still a part of the Council.”

“He’ll have to be there,” Jaru concluded, “this will be a test of the paparazzi’s control.”

That afternoon was busy for Satine. She had a room prepared for Jynn and Lyra, as well as rooms for her older children. Naturally, this caused some drama within the staff. Fortunately, Parna, and Khaami, who had just returned from visiting her family, assured everyone that this was formal procedure and that they would get the news they were seeking at the press conference.

When Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi touched down on the palace landing pad with two toddlers there was an upspike in the rumors. Unfortunately, somehow, it had got out that Satine had made contact with Korkie’s old nanny who'd left ten years ago. This piece of knowledge seemed to confirm to everyone that the rumors were true. Still, they’d have to wait.

“Dad,” Tyra asked when the family was sitting together, “what will happen to Je’er after the trial?”

Obi-Wan smiled, “He’ll be put to death.”

“What!”

“He’s kidding,” Satine put a hand on her daughter’s arm, “don’t you worry, Tyra Satine.”

“Sorry, bad joke,” the Jedi apologized, “he’ll be questioned about his knowledge about the dark side, and then we’ll likely release him.”

Tyra nodded.

“Don’t worry, sis,” Tristan rubbed Tyra’s back, “he’ll be fine.”

“I’m wondering, children,” Satine smilled, “if we should extend ball invitations to your special friends.”

Mara gasped, her excitement clear on her face, Korkie didn’t look so sure.

“All the Jedi Council is coming,” Obi-Wan told Korkie, “and Anakin and Quinlan.”

Korkie bit her lip, “Will it stress her out?”

“Not if her father’s there,” Mara offered, “don’t worry.”

Satine was proud of the way she taught her son how to treat women. He had to be chivalrous if he was going to be a successful prince.

“Duchess,” Parna smiled, opening the door, “dinner’s ready.”

The family at dinner in one of the private dining rooms, serving themselves and laughing at each other’s jokes. Satine could hardly believe how perfect it was.

Obi-Wan’s comm beeped, “Obi-Wan, come in.”

“Anakin?”

“The Council wants you back to prepare for the trial,” Anakin sighed, “boring stuff, really.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan stood, “I’ll be over quickly.”

Satine pouted.

“Don’t worry, Darling,” the Jedi kissed the Duchess’ cheek, “I’ll be home after the verdict.”

“Bye, Dad!”

“Good luck!”

“See you soon!”

“Love you!

“By kids,” Obi-Wan smiled, bopping a smooch on Jynn and Lyra's heads respectively, “look after your mother.”

The Duchess did not watch the trial, but she knew that Anakin, Padme, and Je’er would be witnesses. Not to mention that the Sith Lord electrocuted a couple Jedi Masters when they came to arrest him. They had tested his blood for midichlorians and found them, connections were found to many assassins who’d killed political rivals of the Supreme Chancellor, and there was a direct comm link that when called, appeared on Count Dooku’s body.

“It was horrifying,” Obi-Wan told Satine as they crawled into bed, “his laugh, his mannerisms, he tried to manipulate Anakin right there on the spot.”

“And to think so many trusted him.” Satine frowned, disgusted.

“He was a good politician,” the Jedi sighed, “his punishment is to have his force manipulation ability taken away from him.”

Satine went wide eyed, “They can do that?”

“The Witches of Dathomir have a way,” Obi-Wan shivered, “it’s strange to think about it.”

The Duchess was silent for a moment.

“The press conference,” Satine finally said, “it’ll be just as publicized as the trial.”

“Likely even more,” Obi-Wan agreed, snuggling close to Satine, “but we don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow.”

The Duchess exhaled.

“You're nervous.”

“Yes,” Satine responded, “it’s hard to control what people will ask.”

“We could begin with our story,” the Jedi suggested, “and ask that questions be saved till later.”

That’s exactly the form the press conference took. However, Satine still considered it a nightmare. When they entered, holding hands, Satiine without a corset, the press turned into rabid animals. Khaami and Parna had to shout multiple times to get them to quiet down.

Obi-Wan began with how Master Qui-Gon and he were sent to protect the Duchess from harm during the Mandalorian Civil War, and they did so for a year.

“The Duke of Sundari and his twin sister, Padawan Tyra, were born about eight months after my coronation,” Satine jumped in, “the Duke was raised on Mandalore while his sister was sent to the Jedi Temple.”

“There are no hospital records of this, why?”

Satine sighed at the reporter, questions were supposed to be saved for later.

“Korkyrach and his sister Tyra Satine were born in the basement of the Summer Palace, there was one medical droid and my two ladies at the time.”

There was audible shock.

“Two years later,” Obi-Wan continued, “the Duchess welcomed a second set of twins, Tristan was raised by Clan Wren, and Mara was raised by the Supreis family, to which her lady belongs.”

“What about the birth certificates?” someone asked.

“The real ones are in the hands of the palace lawyers,” Satine answered, “including the ones from the births of our eight-month-old twins.”

In the midst of the stunned silence, a hand was raised.

“Where were these twins born?”

Satine grimaced, “The same room as all their siblings, with one medical droid.”

The crowd shivered.

“Jynn and Lyra, the youngest twins, were given false surnames and raised at the Jedi Temple these past months.” Obi-Wan added.

There were a couple of gasps.

“You have announced your family will host a ball and welcoming ceremony,” a reporter began, “are the dates for these set, and will the royal children be in attendance?”

“The dates are not set yet,” Satine answered, “but the children will be in attendance for both events.”

Audible scribbles were heard all over the room.

“Your Grace,” a strained voice asked, “do we have Mandalorian Jedi?”

The room got so quiet the Duchess could hear herself breathe.

“We have Mandalorian force-users,” Obi-Wan jumped in, “it is their choice whether or not they want to become Jedi.”

In the silence that followed, a reporter raised his hand, “When will the triplets be welcomed?”

Satine ground her teeth, “This fall.”

It was Marsh, Tristan and Mara were having their seventeenth birthday tomorrow and a few months after that Korkie and Tyra would be nineteen. Not to mention Jynn and Lyra would be a year old three months before the triplets were born.

“We will announce the dates of the celebrations nearer to the dates,” Obi-Wan announced, “thank you for coming.”

Khaami and Parna closed the heavy doors with an extreme huff.

“Thank God that’s over.” Satine sighed, leaning on Obi-Wan. “Let’s go,” Obi-Wan suggested, “there’s still the entire palace who will talk about us.”

The Duchess was with her seamstresses, planning her outfit for the ball when Tristan burst through the door.

“Lady Mother,” he huffed, “Auntie Padme and Uncle Anakin are on the holonews!”

Satine jumped up immediately and rushed back to her room with her son just in time for Anakin to announce his departure from the Jedi Order for his wife and children. Then, Padme kissed her husband and the crowd cheered.

“They certainly know how to steal your thunder, huh?” Tyra grinned.

Obi-Wan exhaled, “I think we’re very grateful because of that.”

Two days later, when the entire palace was busy preparing for the upcoming ball, an invitation arrived for the Duchess and her family.

“It’s from a Mr. and Mrs. Skywalker,” Mara read, wiggling her eyebrows, “they’re gonna renew their vows publicly.”

“Ahsoka must be overjoyed.” Korkie commented.

Satine snorted, “They must be trying to outdo us, Ben.”

Obi-Wan laughed and planted a kiss on Satine’s cheek.

“No one could beat us,” the Jedi winked, “just look at how many children we have.”

“Oh no,” Tyra gasped, “what will we wear?”

“My closet is your closet.” the Duchess gestured.

Mara and Tyra giggled and began jumping up and down. Jynn and Lyra giggled at their sisters’ foolishness.

“Speaking of the ceremony,” Obi-Wan asked, “when is it?”

“In three days,” Tristan said, taking the invitation from Mara, “I’m sure the paparazzi is ecstatic.”

“Most certainly.” Satine agreed.

“The ball is in a week,” Obi-Wan frowned, “do you think-”

“I’m sure the paparazzi will have forgotten all about the vows then,” Satine assured her Jedi, “they have a very short attention span.”

The Vow Ceremony was beautiful, and the entire Kryze family looked their best. All in blue and purple, they sat in the front row next to Master Fisto, Master Secura, Master Ti, and Ahsoka. The latter grinned so much her face would likely hurt afterwards.

Up at the front, Anakin stood with his half-brother Owen, and his wife Beru, behind him. Padme’s sister Sola and her husband waited on the other side of the aisle.

“She’s coming!” 

There was a collective gasp when Padme entered, each of her parents holding an arm of hers. The Senator looked overjoyed and glorious in her fabulous white gown. 

“Ani.”

“Padme.”

Satine almost cried at their reception of each other, they were all giddy and sweet.

“Anakin,” Master Yoda turned, “something to say, have you?”

Master Skywalker grinned, “Padme, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re so amazing and wonderful. There are so many magnificent adjectives that you are, but none more so than mother.”

Here, members of the crowd sighed.

“I know you’ll be the most marvelous role model to our twins, and I can only hope I bring you as much happiness as you bring me. I love you.”

“Anakin,” Padme grinned, “you have a tendency to run off into danger.”

Some members of the crowd who knew the Jedi Master best laughed.

“But I couldn’t love you any less for all the good you do for the galaxy, even if you have a certain charming disregard for the rules.”

“True, this is.” Master Yoda agreed.

The crowd laughed again.

“Ani, I love you, and both the twins and I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

The crowd cheered and clapped politely as the couple kissed. 

“Congratulations,” Satine kissed Padme’s cheeks when they made it to the front of the reception line, “I’m glad to see you both so happy.”

Anakin grinned at Obi-Wan, “I set the stakes pretty high, didn't I, Master?”

Obi-Wan nodded, “Good job, Anakin.”

There was dancing after the ceremony, but Satine and Padme sat happily chatting with plates of food and their Jedi.

“Ben,” Satinie elbowed Obi-Wan, “Korkie is looking at Kara, convince Khi-Adi not to kill him.”

Anakin snorted.

Obi-Wan stood, “On it.”

“One day, Ani,” Padme looked at her husband, “you’ll have to help our son.”

“I’m worried about how many people will be in love with my daughter,” Anakin confessed, “I’m sure she’ll be as beautiful as her mother.”

“Aw.”

Parna and Khaami sat with Padme’s ladies discussing happy times and giggling over Jynn and Lyra.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?” Padme sighed.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “the treaty signing was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“I’m actually surprised at how smoothly it went,” Padme answered, “very pleased however.”

It pained the Kryze family to say goodbye, but Obi-Wan and Satine had much to do for the ball, so they bid goodbye to their friends and went home.

“Good job, Korkie,” Tyra smacked her brother on the back, “I think Master Mundi doesn’t hate you!”

“Korkie was perfectly civil,” Obi-Wan agreed, “although your fear was endearing.”

“How-”

“The force, Korkie.”

“Oh.”

The next few days were filled with dress fittings, menu checking, and formal etiquette training for the children who needed it.

“What do you mean I can’t dance the Mandalorra,” Mara frowned, “you danced it with the Count?”

“It has a negative reputation,” Satine huffed at her daughter, “that dance is best done with fiances.”

Mara stuck her tongue out at her mother.

“Don’t do that at the ball.” the Duchess warned.

Mara laughed.

“Satine,” Parna peeked her head in the dance studio, “the children's friends are here.”

Mara squealed.

“Bring them here, Parna,” Satine smiled, “and inform my children.”

Boba Fett looked extremely uncomfortable at the formalities used to address him.

“Mara!”

Satine smiled as the bounty hunter picked her daughter up and spun her around.

“Now only if you can do that in a dance.” the Duchess pointed out.

“Your Grace,” Boba bowed, “I’m honored to be invited.”

“Thank Mara,” Satine grinned, “it was her idea.”

Tyra walked in on Je’er’s arm, her smile radiant.

“Your Grace,” Je’er bowed, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “and this time you’re healthy.”

Tyra giggled.

“Your Grace.”

Satine turned.

“Princess Sori,” the Duchess matched a curtsy, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Your Grace is most kind, inviting my mother and I,” Sori stood, “we’re quite excited.”

“It’s nothing at all,” Satine winked, “I’m looking forward to seeing Cousin Miraj.”

“Sori, you’re here?”

“Yes,” the Princess blushed, “I’m here.”

Tristan took her hand and kissed it.

“Woah, look at that.” Tyra teased.

“Do I have to do that?” Boba asked.

Mara laughed.

“Your Grace?”

Satine walked straight up to Kara and kissed her on the cheeks.

“Kara, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

The Jedi’s daughter looked pleasantly surprised, “Thank you, I can’t believe I’m here.”

“It’s magical isn’t it?” Korkie agreed, putting an arm around Kara’s waist.

Satine clapped, “Children, get ready to waltz.”

Boba looked horrified, “Waltz?”

The room laughed. It was a marvelous moment for Satine, instructing her grown children and their partners in a traditional Mandalorian Waltz. Korkie and Tristan already knew it, and lifted their partners into the air with varying degrees of success. Tyra and Je’er took a little longer to learn the steps than Mara and Boba, but they did do a successful lift first.

“Alright, now,” Satine smiled, “break time.”

That evening Obi-Wan got to hear all about Satine’s adventures while he complained about eating traditional Mandalorian food.

“It wouldn't hurt you to learn the waltz.”

“What do I need to waltz for,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “we already have nine children.”

Satine laughed.

“Do you feel them yet?” the Jedi asked.

The Duchess sighed, “Sylvian is a little stinker. He and Jacen wrestle while their sister and I try to sleep.”

Obi-Wan’s face melted, “You can tell them apart?”

“Yes, Ben,” Satine placed her Jedi’s hand on her stomach, “they're quite rambunctious.”

“We still haven’t picked a girl’s name out yet.” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“We’ll find one.” Satine assured.

Her ball gown was glorious. The entire family was going in white, and they would look magnificent. Satine’s dress was an ivory ball gown embroidered with silver lilies and pearls. It was wide like the dresses of the Ancient Queen Victoria, and was held up by her shoulders, which were covered in lace. Over all of this, Satine wore a deep purple velvet robe also embroidered with silver. It had a lengthy train too, something the Duchess absolutely adored. Then, to top it off, she wore the blue sash of the monarch and all her medals.

Satine met her daughters in the jewel room.

“Oh, Lady Mother, look at us!”

Tyra’s dress was the same style as Satine’s, except her robe was Kryze blue and her embroidery was gold. She wore a purple sash and slim dancing slippers. Mara wore a periwinkle robe over her ivory and gold dress. Her shoes and sash matched that of her sister’s, but naturally, she wore her Kryze brooch. Jynn and Lyra, the precious angels, were wearing little salmon pink robes over their chiffon tea-length dresses, which were also white with gold embroidery. Their little purple sashes were adorable.

“You look lovely, girls.” Satine smiled.

“The jewels in this room, Lady Mother!” Mara gasped.

Tyra and Mara wore multiple necklaces, chokers, and bracelets, all gold and white to match their outfits.

“I see you have the Warrior’s Eye,” Satine smiled at Tyra, “I remember giving that to you.”

“I never take it off.” Tyra nodded.

Jynn and Lyra were each given a string of pearls for their necks, and they looked every part of princesses.

“And you, Lady Mother?” Mara prodded.

Khaami cleared her throat, she and Parna were standing with the Jewel Master, a chest between them. Everyone in the room gasped when the ancient case was unlocked.

“Is that-”

“The pearl-drop tiara,” Mara gasped while Tyra fanned herself, “gifted to Queen Mara by Zagreus the Second of Zygerria!”

Satine performed a regal curtsy and Khaami placed the crown on her head, Parna held up a mirror.

“Exquisite, Your Grace,” the Jewel Master smiled, “we have the matching accessories ready.”

Her necklace was a silver chain of diamonds and crystals hanging low against her bodice. She had pearl bracelets and white satin gloves.

“Pierre,” Satine turned to the Royal Jeweler, “I wish my daughters to wear Kokoshnik tiaras.”

The girls old enough to understand this request squealed.

The Jewel Master bowed, “Right away, Your Grace, if the Princesses will follow me.”

Tyra wore a headdress with cerulean gems to match her robe and Mara wore purple garnets in between her golden latticework.

“And the little ones?” Pierre asked.

“Silver headbands for them.” Satine suggested.

The Duchess and her daughters met the rest of their family in the hallway behind the grand doors that led to the ballroom.

“Gorgeous, Lady Mother.” Korkie smiled.

He was wearing a white version of his uniform, with a purple sash with a blue line through it to designate him as heir. He also wore medals, as did Tristan over his white uniform, but he had significantly less.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan smiled, “you look heavenly.”

“Thank you, darling,” the Duchess smiled, “you get to lead me into the ball this evening.”

The Jedi kissed Satine’s hand, “I’m honored.”

Korkie took Tyra’s right hand while she held Jynn in her left. Mara held Lyra in her left hand and placed her right in Tristan’s. Satine nodded at Parna, who snuck away to find the announcer.

“Wait till you’re announced.” Satine whispered.

Lyra giggled.

“Her Grace, the Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, Second of her Name and Lady Krewella, escorted by the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The announcer took a large breath, “His Grace Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari, Her Royal Highness, Tyra Satine, Princess Royal of Mandalore, His Royal Highness Prince Tristan of Keldabe, Her Royal Highness Princess Mara of Mandalore, Her Royal Highness Princess Jynn of Mandalore, and Her Royal Highness Princess Lyra of Mandalore!”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “This is War.”

This arc is going to be exciting, I hope you guys like it. 

“Commander, the Burg have broken through the defense Nexus and are making siege on the Gromm homeworld. We have sent ships to supplement them, but we won't be able to last much longer. How soon can you arrive.?”

“Immediately chairwoman. Give me the change to mobilize the fleet, and we will come  drop in to assist. Have some of your your cruisers sent in with shield generators. We would be more combat effective, if all our time was not spent in maneuvers.”

“It will be done commander.”

“One more thing, chairwoman.”

“Yes commander.” 

“Get me a forward report of battle progress, I want numbers, estimates, power outputs, weapons, anything you can give me, I want to know about it.”

“You will have it, Commander.”

The hologram disappeared, and Commander Vir pointed to one of the communications specialists, “You, get the fleet online, immediately.”

“Yes sir.” 

There was a moment of verbal silence as the room was filled with the distant clattering of feet thundering through the lower decks preparing for battle stations.

Four young soldiers sat in the corner of the room wide eyed and nervously watching the proceedings unfold as their insides churned. 

What a day to be a new recruit.

Bright blue light erupted around the room, and fifteen figures stepped out of the ether in various stages of wakefulness and or dress.

“Commander.” One of the men Said salluting, he was older maybe in his early to mid fifties though he looked better than a lot of men twice his age 

“Captain Eklend, Koslov, Ho, Silva, Bassi, you five are active?”

“Yes, Sir.” They chorused

“What this is about?”

“War, Captain, The Burg have perpetrated an act of war against the GA. You five are needed immediately with my ship on the front line. The rest of you, prepare yourselves for standby. I don't want to put all my eggs in one basket.”

“An act of war!”

“Yes ,they are attempting to invade the Gromm homeworld.”

“What reason could they have-”

“Their reasons don’t matter for now. For the moment we focus on providing support to the Gromm and the GA. Have your crews ready as soon as possible, and initiate an instant warp. I know it will be rough on the coolant systems, but if you back charge that energy into the rail guns and cannons, that we should be able to arrive prepared. I want jets ready to provide in-atmosphere air support if necessary and as instantly as possible. Am I understood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alert me as soon as you are ready, and make it quick. My people will have the coordinates to yours immediately “

“Yes, Commander/” Fifteen salutes, and fifteen holograms gone dark.

Commander Vir turned to the bridge crew, “Prepare for an instant warp, like I was saying before, make sure you back charge the rail guns with the excess energy put off by the core. We don’t want to smoke ourselves out with the heat.”

Turning, he took a seat in his chair, and despite his clothing, a star-wars T-shirt and a pair of heelies, no one would have assumed he was anything other than the commander. A door clattered behind them, and the small blue Drev from earlier burst through the door and ran across the deck to her seat.

“Sunny-”

“Yes! Preparing to back charge the railguns, commander. Loading bunker busting rounds, and loading flairs.”

“Good.” He barked.

With one hand he reached over and toggled the Comm switch.

His voice once relegated to this room, now echoed down the halls with a commanding echo, “Crew of the harbinger, this is your Commander speaking. At this moment the Burg have declared war on the GA and are attempting to overtake the Gromm planet for its strategic location within the GA. All of you are to report to your battle stations immediately and prepare for war. All vehicles, flying or otherwise, should be ready for takeoff. I want marines prepared to to insert by drop ship at a moment’s notice. All non military personnel are to return to their quarters, or a safe room away from the outer hull of the ship. Please make sure to go over any and all escape pod procedures in case of an emergency…..”

There was a moment of solemn silence.

“I understand that this is our first military engagement, I understand that you may be frightened, angry or even shocked, but I make a promise to you now, that I will do whatever I can to keep all of you and every last member of earth, and the GA safe. If you follow me in this goal I guarantee, there is no army, no species, no force save deity who can stop us. My fellow humans, and my brothers and sisters Drev,... let us show them what it means to wage war.”

He shut off the comm jaw set face staring forward.

With one hand, he reached up and pulled off the eyepatch revealing an inhuman mechanical replacement underneath.

“Commander, Captain  Kozlov is ready for warp.”

“As is Captain Bassi.”

“Captains Eklend, and Ho. Have reported in.”

“Captain Silva is ready, Commander.”

“Than we warp in five, four, three, two, one….”

***

The burg Commander stood at the head of her ship pincers clicking in great pleasure as she watched another one of the GA ships fall under her onslaught. 

Their shields were powerful, but their weapons were measly.

Their scientists had known this for a while. The GA were soft creatures born of government and economics and not of chaos like her people . They would rather, sit back and defend themselves like a wounded Curdling licking its wounds tan to stand and fight, and now they had insulted her people one last tie. 

Her previous successor, had failed in his mission, one that should have been easy considering their ability to exploit the GA’s soft and trusting laws, but he had lost his temper and given himself away before the end.

However, the time for stealth was long past, now it was a time for war. For the past few years, since their withdrawal from GA peace talks )she chittered her mandibles disgusted at the very thought they had once been willing to parlay with such disgusting creatures) they had traveled the galaxy in search of greater resources, stocking themselves for ward, creating alliances with other entities in the vastness of space.

The GA would fall for their insolence against the Burg,, and she would be the one to usher them into a greater future.

Who knows, perhaps she might even become queen.

The thought of sitting, fat and happy at the center of the hive made her insides wriggle with pleasure.

Another GA ship fell breaking into pieces and falling towards the glittering surface of the Gromm planet. The shards sparked and sizzled as they were deflected away from the planet’s defence nexus. 

It didn’t matter though, it wouldn’t be here for long.

She planned for that.

And that is when her alarms began going off. She whirled in a circle towards the group of grumbs at her back. They pulsed and oozed in time with the engines of the ship controlling the interior mechanisms with their bodies, which had been fuzed into the mechanisms. When this ship died, they would die with it.

“What is happening.”

“Your glory, ships have appeared from warp, and they ae firing on us.”

“WHO.” She demanded, “I must see!” They gurgled and mumbled as they got to work scrambling to do their best and find a suitable answer for her. The ship drifted around so the viewing platform faced outwards.

Ans that is when she saw them.

Two strange ships on the horizon, and as she watched, three more followed in quick succession, flashing into existence against the black backdrop of the  expanse. 

She would know those ships anywhere.

Hard, brutal and malignant like their pilots, “Slimy Maggots!” She spat grinding her pincers together.

“What is it, your glory?”

The sound that came through her teeth was nothing more than a warbling hiss “Humans.” 

The air around her pulsed with the wave of an incoming transmission. She accepted with an angry flick, her legs chittering back and forth across the ground. And then she saw it, that ugly hideous thing with its bulging bulbous eyes and sofy maggoty flesh, rubbery like a worm.

It blinked at her revealing that mouth full of toxic venom which had been such  a hindrance to her people.

She knew this human well, if not from personal contact, than form the hostires.

For to forget a grudge was to forget one’s honor.

“Disgusting human, have you come to join your fellows as their dust is sprinkled by the solar wind.”

“Let's drop the niceties shall we.” The human responded it’s voice a horrible throbbing humm inside her head, “Now that we are here, You have two options you will surrender to the GA and live, or you will fight and you will die poorly. Which shall it be, this is your first and final warning.”

She chittered her mandibles together in laughter.

“You are mistaken human. For it is YOU who will die poorly, and there is no surrender.

“Is that a no than?”

She spat at the screen, “You will die screaming.”

“I said, is-that-a-no?”

“NO.”

“Very well.”

And then she …. She saw something, or she thought she saw something. 

A flash of light, like a fire ignited behind the slimy outer layer of the human Iris. It was both cold and hot burning and cold, chaotic and still. The longer she stared the hotter the little fire grew, until it felt as if she could feel tongues of flame licking at her shell,

“Do you have gods, burg.”

She wasn’t entirely sure where this was going but the mesmerizing nature of the eyes caused her to grow still, unable to be silent against the burning question.

“Yes.”

“Do you pray.”

“Only over the pyres of our dead.”

The human bared his teeth slimy coating of venom sparkling under the light.

“Then Pray.” 

[vln-vibes]

Watchtower Woes

Week 1 Day 4 of Maribat March

Special thanks to @little-kitty-kanny , @ethelphantom and @the-navistar-carol  for beta-ing for me

It was a normal day at the Watchtower, well as normal as a space station for superheroes could be. The Watchtower looked down upon their home planet, making it seem so big yet so small amongst the sea of stars surrounding them. Today it was just Wonder Woman, Black Bat and Ladybug on monitor duty.

“Sister.” 

Ladybug, otherwise known as Marinette Drake nee Dupain-Cheng (the 23-year old designer behind the Lady Luck designs by MDC company), turned to see Wonder Woman looking at her with concern. She and Diana were rather close as the Amazonian princess had practically taken her as blood sisters when she learned of a new Ladybug; seeing as her mother had once worn the mantle as well.  Diana had also been her business partner when her company first began to take off.

“Are you feeling alright? You seem to be under the weather”

“She’s right,” Cassandra Cain-Wayne added in “Your center is off, you seem uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. It's been a little stressful with the upcoming line with Wayne Enterprises,” Ladybug sighed, finding herself massaging her temple, feeling a headache already developing. “That and the team has been acting strange lately, I’ve been trying to investigate the cause, but the Miracle Book isn’t saying much, and I can’t exactly ask Master Fu anymore”

“How so, Ladybug?” Diana asked, taking a seat next to her while Cass took charge of looking through the security footage for them, still focused on the conversation.

“Well, most of them have gotten dangerously overprotective of me. Just yesterday Roi Singe took a hit for me against Hawkmoth 2.0’s latest creation. I asked him about it afterwards, and he just said that nothing could harm me? It was rather strange, especially seeing as Ryuuko and Abeille got more ruthless afterward. Chat was also hissing at people who approached me,” she explained with a troubled look.

“Even as civilians, Viperion, Monarch, and Paon were coddling me: Mari are you warm enough? Have you eaten today? No, Mari, let me get you a natural juice instead of coffee. It’s been so frustrating having to deal with their constant  babying.”

“It’s honorable for your team to care for your well being” Diana commented, heavens knew  how the JL got  whenever one of their members was  ill or was unable to perform their duties. Ladybug’s eyes just seemed to water at the implication, wiping the tears before they even fell.

“B-But that could just mean they don’t trust my abilities… what if they think I’m not worthy of being leader or even worse… of being Ladybug?” 

Diana did her best to console the younger woman while Cass looked at her skeptically.

She had seen the sudden change in emotion Ladybug had gone through like whiplash, from tired to content to worried to saddened. As Diana combed through Marinette’s pixie cut, Cass continued to think of the things happening these past few weeks.

Tim had once asked Barbara if there was anything that could help with back pains, stating that Marinette had been experiencing some rather hard period symptoms.

She recalled Adrien purring along with Alfred the Cat when they had gone to Wayne Manor last week along with Tim and Conner. Even Ace and Titus were acting like her personal bodyguards, not too different from normal, though Damian admitted that it was a bit more overkill.

Just last month for the Wayne Charity Gala, during the ladies’ final fitting, she had complained to Steph that her own dress felt a little tighter than she expected... though not unbearably so, so she had just decided to leave her own dress as is.

Had it really been so obvious?

She needed to recheck whether Tim deserved the title of Detective after this. Cass stepped out of the room momentarily to make what was potentially a life changing call.

“Robin and Superboy, do you read?” she knew her baby brother, almost eighteen years old, would be hanging out at the Titans Tower in the east coast with Superboy, now sixteen, but seeing as it was a quiet day and the other Titans: Green Lantern (Milagro Reyes), Nightstar (Mar’i Grayson), Scarlet Flash and Kid Speed (Dawn and Don Allen), and Speedy(Lian Harper) would be on standby.

“Is something the matter Black Bat?” Damian responded almost immediately.

All Bats were rather keen on making sure their comms were on in case of emergencies, even when silenced, they’d have the notifications on to see who was trying to contact them.

“Do you mind coming to the Watchtower with Superboy, there’s something concerning Ladybug𑁋”

“Is she alright?” she almost giggled at how concerned her brother was before keeping her cool and responding.

“I believe she’s alright but perhaps not aware of her condition”

“We’ll be there in a minute”

Not even a full minute after stepping back in with a much calmer Ladybug, did she hear the announcement of Robin and Superboy’s arrival before the two skid into the communications room with the three heroines.

“Robin and Superboy? I wasn’t aware you boys would be passing by today,” Diana asked curiously as Damian just puffed up.

“Black Bat called about checking Ladybug’s condition” he said eyeing the scarlet hero to see if anything was amiss; other than her red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks he found nothing unusual.

“My condition? Cass what are you talking about?” Ladybug asked confused and a bit protective.

“Superboy,” Jon perked at his name before turning to Cass “Can you hear the heartbeats in this room?”

“Uh sure…” to say he was confused was an understatement. He was rather familiar with their heartbeats, having known them for years at this point. He could hear Diana and Damian’s rather war drum like beat, Cass’ steady and rhythmic beats, Marinette’s calm and slightly faster than usual heart and then there was𑁋

Wait, what?

“That’s weird” he whispered to himself before focusing again. Sure enough it was still there a soft echoe of duhn-duhn… duhn-dun as the fifth heartbeat. But he had never heard it before… and it was coming from…

Oh duh!

“Holy schmoly! Congrats Ladybug.” He flew up to her and gave her a huge hug, conscious of his strength now more than ever. Ladybug seemed confused while Cass smiled at her.

“You’re expecting!”

Suddenly everything made more sense, Marinette thought in that moment of realization, as she felt Diana give her her own congratulations along with Damian, who wished to both brag and inform the rest of the family.

This was really happening.

“Can— can we see Doctor Mid-Nite or Doctor Thompkins, please?” she heard herself whisper. The group looked at each other, Diana contacting the Watchtower’s doctor while Damian called for Tim and the rest of the Bat Family to come as soon as they could; was that overkill? Perhaps, but no one that was even associated with the Bats could be anything less than dramatic. Jon was the one who called Conner who called Adrien to go meet them at the Watchtower as well.

Half an hour passed and Ladybug found herself lying on one of the Med Bay beds with Doctor Thompkins, the woman having to be pulled until they mentioned Marinette requesting her assistance, making the last few configurations to the ultrasound machine.

“Are you ready, dear?” the kind doctor asked.

 Ladybug lifted her uniform, which she learned she could do at that moment, nearly squirming at the cold gel spreading at her softening abdomen.

“As ready as I’ll ever be” she laughed nervously before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t help but close her eyes, unsure if she wanted it to be true or not, before hearing the curtain open. Tim looked disheveled, most likely having come out of a W.E business meeting he had mentioned yesterday evening.

“Mari, what’s wrong!?”

Duhn-duhn…. Duhn-duhn… duhn-duhn

Marinette had never heard such a life-altering sound, feeling the tears swell in her eyes as her husband looked dumbfounded.

“Is— is that?” Marinette could only nod before being enveloped in a hug by him. He whispered sweet nothings and reassurances to her as the beautiful sound echoed in their heads.

“God, we’re going to be parents, sunshine”

“So it would seem, moonlight”

“M’Lady what’s—!” Chat Noir had sprinted from the zeta entrance having heard the far too soft heartbeat coming from the monitor, the Bats not far behind him. Suffice to say that the Watchtowers usual quiet was interrupted for the rest of that evening as cheers and congratulations went around the Med-Bay.

They would later learn that she had been nearly three months pregnant by the time they found out, explaining her team’s odd behavior due to the animal characteristics of the Miraculous. However, the worst news was to come a week later on one faithful morning.

“Oh kwami, get that away from me!” Marinette exclaimed as soon as she came out of their room in their studio apartment in Gotham. The scarlet hero having to rely on Pegasus for travel to and from Paris for the time being. Not that her team even wanted her on the field in the first place at the time but she was anything if not stubborn, a necessity for the Wayne family.

That was how the coffee obsessed duo discovered that Marinette and baby were disgusted by the mere smell of coffee. Truly, it was the hardest part of the pregnancy.

Six months later, when Thomas Louis Drake-D.C was born, his aunts and uncle would continuously call him the ‘Second Coming of Christ’ for doing the impossible and getting his parents to cut off their caffeine addiction, much to their annoyance. 

For now they were just a family of three, looking at the infinite stars of their baby’s eyes.

My AO3

Ko-Fi

[halfblood-fiend]

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 4

SLEEPER AGENTS

Show: Discovery

Words: 2,440

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): graphic violence, blood, ptsd

Voq in the Mirror

Ash Tyler struggles to come to terms with his own identity while he is supposed to be undercover in the Mirror-verse. His mysterious stalker complicates everything he's fought for.

Note:  I really wanted to explore how Ash and Voq struggled to coexist before Voq was severed, without boiling it down to some weird split personality disorder sort of deal. I hope y'all enjoy (and that it makes sense lol).

HUGE thank you to @thenorsiest and @kiranxrys for beta-ing and smoothing out my Ash/Voq lines! :D

Read it on AO3.

From the moment he had left Michael’s Captain’s Quarters aboard the I.S.S Shenzhou that morning, Ash Tyler had felt the eyes of every crewmember on his back.

Crosshairs followed him throughout his morning shift of guard duty (the debatably pointless use of Security Officers in this universe), from where, he couldn’t quite tell. It kept Ash’s teeth on edge and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He looked over his shoulder. He waited for an attack. He felt it in his gut. But it was a quiet shift—occupants of the Agonizers aside—and he made it to the Mess for a lunch break without incident.

Ash chanced a furtive glance around the nearly-empty mess hall over a metal tray of tasteless replicated food. He picked an out-of-the-way table, far from anyone else in the room.

There was something to be said about the distraction of feeling like he was being watched all day. At least it had kept his mind on something other than—

Other than…

Shaking his head, he tried to clear the unwanted memories. When that didn’t work, he reached up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes so hard he saw stars. He controlled his breathing, willed his heart to be slow.

God, he hoped… he hoped Hugh was—

Ash dropped his hands to the table with a heavy thud, focusing instead on the dull ache of the impact. His stomach churned and heaved.

Certain he wouldn’t be eating anything today either, he abandoned the table, dropped his untouched meal into the recycling receptacle, and left the Mess.

Ash didn’t know where he would go yet—this ship was alien and uncomfortable for him—but he walked anyway. It was a stupid attempt to place distance between himself and his memories, he knew, but what else could he do? The only person who had any hope of understanding him was Michael, but only when they were in private. He would have to wait until the late evening to see her.

The crew he passed in the corridors leered at him from scarred not-quite-right faces. They were disconcerting and backwards. They were the last people he wanted to be around when his head was spinning, but they were his only company for now.

And then a thought occurred to him.

He couldn’t speak to Michael, but maybe he could visit Captain Lorca? Maybe he could comm the Discovery? Or both? Ash felt all he needed was a touch of sanity about now, a lifeline to the world that he knew to be his.

God, he hoped, with everything that he had in him, that he and Michael would still belong to that world when this was all over.

Making up his mind, Ash walked with more purpose. So it was somewhere around the Medbay when he became aware of his tail.

This person was sloppy. The tail hadn’t expected Ash to stop so suddenly. But when a passing nurse dropped his medkit, the contents rolling across the corridor, Ash bent to help without thinking.

As Ash reached behind him for a scattered hypospray, he caught the unmistakable tells of a pursuer out of the corner of his eye: their stunted halt, their quick about face, and then they disappeared around the nearest corner.

The nurse, flustered that someone would help him recover his tools, didn’t notice how Ash kept his eyes trained down the hall. His unblinking stare was rewarded with the tail’s head poking back around the corner, and, seeing their target was still crouched, they withdrew again. Didn’t even notice Ash was watching them.

They were a sloppy stalker for a world that was so paranoid, that was for sure.

Ash muttered a “you’re welcome” to the nurse without thinking as they both rose from the floor. He didn’t believe the other man had thanked him in the first place; forgot that manners were few and far between. Maybe for the best. Maybe he just looked like a sarcastic asshole now.

If that was the worst he would become here, then he would be grateful.

As he continued on his way towards the emptier lower decks of the ship, Ash heard his tail resume as well. He strained his ears and made mental notes.

Heavy footfalls made them male in sex and very likely of sturdy build. They maintained a five-meter distance but had quick steps—short in height; not necessarily an advantage. Probably new at this too, Ash thought grimly. If it were him, he would have erred on the side of caution and abandoned the chase for today. He would have assumed he’d been caught and fallen back to recuperate the apparent loss.

This person was, apparently, not so smart.

As he got on the turbolift at the end of the corridor, Ash weighed his options. To lose them? Or to confront them?

Losing them was attractive, but he was willing to bet it wouldn’t be easy for him in this unfamiliar terrain. He only had two allies on board, and Captain Lorca would be useless if they all wanted to maintain cover. Ash couldn’t even be assured of his safety in a crowd here. He could easily imagine these people letting two crewmates kill each other in front of them. It might not even ever occur to them to stop the fight.

Yet confronting his pursuer would be a sure altercation, and maybe even a sure death. Better to assume that everyone here thirsted for blood and couldn’t simply be spooked away by an act of force. Assassination seemed to be the most common way to climb the ladder in this awful place, and Ash was a very high rung. He had placed the target on his back himself, he realized, by putting himself so close to Michael. Should have thought of that. But it was too late now to regret that he didn’t.

For all his assumptions, however, Ash really wanted to know exactly why he was being followed, and—maybe worse—he wanted to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

By the time his turbolift had opened onto the lowest deck, Ash had a plan.

His stalker could follow with the last turbolift log, and while he briefly considered scrambling the data, Ash decided it was more important to him to find out who it was that thought he was so important…

If someone thought he was important, then that meant they were trying to get to Michael, and that was unacceptable.

Ash jogged towards the laundry room and used his communicator to make a signal with no heading. He only hoped Discovery wouldn’t catch it and link up with him. What he didn’t need was for more questions to be asked, instead, he just wanted his tail to take the bait.

Several long minutes later, with his heart pounding in his throat, Ash watched as the turbolift doors opened.

His pursuer stepped out into the half-lit corridor holding up a tricorder, no doubt tracking Ash’s dummy signal. They indeed looked slight, but sturdy. Male, probably. Human, obviously. Their eyes were glued to their tricorder and now they took soft, cautious steps, with no idea that their prey had turned the tables on them. They hadn’t even bothered to check the corridor before stepping out. Amateur really. Ash had half a mind to be offended.

An easy target, to be sure.

He held his breath and waited for his pursuer to draw closer. Five meters. Two. One.

They took another cautious step and swiveled in Ash’s direction.

They glanced up from the tricorder screen. Ash launched himself forward.

With their hands full, Ash was able to get his full weight thrown into them. His momentum sent them careening backwards and with a jolting—THUD—his pursuer crashed into the wall across the way, their head smacking hard.

Blood red obscured Ash’s vison. An intense rage flooded his mind. It went beyond just him and his survival on a covert mission. It went beyond even Michael. He was filled with an intense disgust that seemed to be a part within him, but also without.

With a guttural shout, Ash’s hand curled in the Terran uniform and he slammed the stalker back into the bulkhead, their green eyes going wide for a moment. Their hands scrabbled for purchase against his chest, the tricorder falling forgotten, but Ash’s teeth gnashed hard and he ripped their hands from his own uniform with a power that was not his own.

Disgusting human! Daring to touch me! Daring to fight me! Feeble creature to hide in the shadows instead of besting me in outright battle!

Voq hissed at the Human man and slammed him back into the bulkhead. He grinned when the human’s head smacked against the metal once more and left a dent and a streak of crimson.

I will drink your blood and wring the life from you with your entrails!

The human shook his head, eyes dazed, but managed to pull his arm back and caught Voq with the heel of his palm. The blow knocked his head back and Voq cursed his frail human shell. But he barely let it stop him as he threw the man to the side and leapt upon his supine form.

FILTHY HUMAN!

The human scrabbled for purchase but Voq already had his conveniently long fingers around his throat. The man’s eyes bugged. Voq’s lips stretched into a cruel smile. He squeezed.

Then he grew tired of the waiting.

Yanking the man up by his throat, Voq slammed his skull into the ground. Once. Twice. Crimson splashed the floor when he yanked the man’s head up again. It lolled aside. Voq placed one hand on the man’s pale face, the fingernails of the other digging into soft flesh, and pushed with all his weight back into the ground with a wet and satisfying Crack!

He sat back on his haunches, threw his head back and roared in triumph.

Bathed in it. Less than honorable though it may have begun.

His second kill…

His heart raced in his chest.

He blinked.

Ash blinked again. He looked down and unwrapped his hands from his stalker’s throat. They came away bloody.

What?

He straddled the person on the floor, red blood pooling beneath their head, coagulating in their straw-colored hair. Cold dread crept into Ash’s limbs. He was heavy and shaking and couldn’t look away from glassy green eyes.

It had happened again.

Clenching his teeth, barely strangling a cry, Ash gripped his hair hard. A moment too late he remembered that there was still blood on his hands. The thought of it in his hair made him sick. He yelped and leapt off the body, revulsion hitting him hard in the chest and making him heave. Dry and painful.

He did it again. He did it again.

His face crumpled. A sob choked in his throat.

How does this keep happening?

As before, flashes of memory. Of blood and screaming and…her. The unthinkable one. The Klingon in the brig. He had never wanted to see her again and then there she was. She spoke words to him. Words that he didn’t understand but felt in his bones.

She did this. L’Rell.

But how?

Ash shook his head and the dry sob that had caught came out in a strangled mess. It was a pitiful sound, and he was glad there was no one down here to catch him like this. So broken. Confused.

He shook his head again and examined his hands. Another wave of nausea hit him, but he tamped it down.

Ash didn’t have time to be pitiful, and more importantly, Michael couldn’t afford for him to lose focus.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he struggled to control his breathing; wanted to control his heart and the swimming unease in his stomach but he knew that those were lost causes. Instead he settled for closing his eyes and trying to think.

He breathed.

In.

And out.

In.

Out.

In…

A strange calm settled over him. Cold. Almost cruel. But Ash…welcomed it. He needed it. He let it wash over him—swallow him whole. It seemed to cradle him, promising to make all this easier.

Simple.

Like sleeping.

Ash’s limbs grew heavy as the calm reached across his body. His thoughts didn’t feel like his own anymore. They became harsh, calculating—what Michael needed him to be.

He had won the fight against his stalker, as he should have. He was stronger than all of them, he knew. If that was the best his enemies would send after him, then this “Empire” was a laughable sham of one. Nothing compared to the Klingon Empire united behind Kahless and T’Kuvma.

But he had to make sure that nothing like this would happen again. Someone sought to attack him—to kill him—and an attempt on his life would clear the way to an attempt on Michael’s.

Ash felt his fingers twitch.

While it was regrettable to have lost the chance to get information out of his would-be attacker, making an example out of him would have to be good enough.

He knew what he had to do now.

The calm had helped.

The body wasn’t so hard to drag.

Ash ignored the silent stares. He hated the nods of approval. They churned a sickness in his stomach. He refused to look back at the long streak of blood.

It was a long march to the Mess Hall, but he tightened his grip on the corpse’s ankle and steeled himself with every step, drawing from that welcome calm conviction that had washed over him.

When he arrived, a hush fell over the half-filled room.

Ash raised his eyes to the people sitting at tables. The barbarians that lived in this universe watched him with barely masked trepidation.

Barely masked weakness.

He made slow eye contact with each one, wondering if the one responsible was here in this very room. He challenged every one with his burning gaze, almost hoping that someone would rise and fight. Maybe his true enemy wasn’t here, but he knew it wasn’t a big ship; Ash would find him soon enough.

With something of a snort, Ash bared his teeth. He summoned that strange superhuman strength from within him and heaved the filthy, mangled body of his attacker in front of him—in front of everyone—and left.

Yes, he’d find the culprit soon.

Then they would be sorry they had ever picked a fight with T’Kuvma’s own chosen Torchbearer.

Calm resolve washed over his body.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: War is the death of Honor

General Xiaon stood outside his command bunker and looked towards the sky. The night was clear and the lights danced across horizon likes crystal gem stones. But Xiaon knew the truth. The majority of those lights were not stars, but running lights of enemy warships that now circled his home world.

Since the destruction of the Combra fleet several days ago the Coalition had been holding orbit around the Combra home planet, their final stronghold. 

Xiaon remembered how the campaign began and how things had changed such drastically since then. When legions of Combra warriors marched into waiting dropships to be ferried to their fleet number in the tens of thousands, how they had set out and conquered dozens of systems  and expanded their great empire. Then how one by one the planets had been reclaimed by the Coalition, how armies were decimated, their fleets lured into traps and cut down bit by bit, until now the Combra had been driven back to their homeworld waiting for the final battle. It was a battle that Xiaon knew his people would never win, yet they would fight all the same. Many would die, but Xiaon knew his people would survive and rise again. The Coalition was comprised of many species that were not as familiar with war as the Combra and had only joined together for mutual stability and support. Xiaon had not considered them a threat and after several years of fighting they had nearly been broken by the Combra war machine. It wasn’t until the latest species had joined their coalition and brought fresh fire and spirit that gave them hope to turn the tide.

They called themselves “Humanity”, and they were as skilled in warfare as the Combra. They were now the main driving force behind the Coalition’s counter attack and had the reason Xiaon now was forcing himself to do the unthinkable. 

He turned on the spot and reentered the command bunker, the hallways filled with officers carrying reports of troop deployments, ration supplies, and other such material needed for the final battle while warriors stood guard at every entry. As he looked at each as they passed by he could see that they had not lost the will to fight and would die before they surrendered. This both pleased and saddened Xiaon. 

Entering the main control room all the officers present stood to salute their leader. Xiaon returned the salute and motioned for them to continue with their work. He sat at his control console and gazed around at them for several seconds.

“This will be my legacy.” He thought to himself as he began preparing for what he was about to do. “But it must be done for the salvation of my people.” 

“I’m sorry General, did you say something?” Xiaon realized he had spoken the last part out loud and caught the attention of his second in command. “Frolock, I want you to open a direct line of communication to the enemy fleet.” Frolock paused for a moment. “But would that not give away our position?” Xiaon chuckled. “They have plenty of time to map out all of our military positions by now. Believe me, they know already this is our HQ.” Frolock nodded. “As you command general.”

Frolock walked away and fiddled with his own console for a few moments. “We have a direct line general.”

Xiaon paused again. There was no going back now....

“This is General Xiaon of the Combar Empire. I wish to speak with the leaders of the Coalition and discuss the terms of the Empire’s surrender.” 

The room suddenly went dead quiet. Every pair of eyes turning towards the general, not fully wishing to understand what they had just heard. Some of them looked as if to speak but Xiaon held a clenched fist into the air and glared at any that looked like they would cause a scene, his gaze was intense enough to make several look away. 

“General Xiaon, this is the flagship Newbury Castle, please repeat previous message.” The shrill voice over the comm told Xiaon that he was speaking with a human. He had tortured enough to know their tone of voice. “I say again, this is General Xiaon of the Combar Empire. I wish to speak with the Coalition leadership and discuss the terms of the Empire’s surrender.” 

Another long pause, no response. The command center was a still as the grave and no one dared even move for fear of being cut to ribbons by the tension in the air. 

“Understood General Xiaon. A dropship has been dispatched to your location for retrieval so you may speak face to face with the leadership. It will arrive in the next ten minutes. In the meantime, please issue a general stand down order to your remaining forces. Failure to do so will rendered your Empire’s chance at a peaceful end to this war null and void.” 

“Understood. I will issue the order now and be waiting by the landing fields.” Xiaon killed the communication. He then switched on the override signal his command status gave him and spoke to the entire planet. 

“People of the Combra Empire, this is General Xiaon. We have fought long and hard and we have done our ancestors proud. I count you all as my brothers and sisters for your loyalty. But as your kin I feel it is my duty to tell hard truths, and the turth is this war is over....The enemy orbits our planet now with the same fleets that have driven us from our conquests for the last year and is ready to wreck untold damage across our beloved homeworld. I can not bare to see anymore of my kin die, nor see our world ripped away from us.”

“Moments ago I communicated with the coalition and offered to discuss the terms of our surrender. Many of you will hate me and want me dead for such actions and will say I am a disgrace. I can not refute that claim I will bare that shame if it means my people will see another sunrise, that our warriors can return to their families, if no one else must die. We have lost this war, but that does not mean we will not rise again. I ask that you honor my final wish as your leader and follow my order with the same loyalty as any other I have issued before. Believe me....this was the only way.”

Xiaon killed the communication and stood from his chair before marching away. There were no cries of disloyalty nor attempts made against Xiaon as he marched away. Officers and warriors stood aside for him and saluted, but Xiaon could not bring himself to meet their gazes. 

-------------------------

Xiaon had ridden the dropship into space and had gazed at the elaborate rows of ships surrounding his homeworld. A vast armada of ships of every size with wings of fighters and bombers circling each one.

He saw sleek Slimpton cruisers with their smoothed edges and reflective surfaces, Morbith ramshackle bardges that looked like garbage dumps with rockets attached to them, Ziplin war spheres with their elegant gravity rings circling them in ever changing patterns; but most of all he saw the box like ships of humanity. The most numerous ships of the fleet, Xiaon estimated humanity provided 75-80% of the total fleet strength present. What they lacked in style they more than made up for in understanding of war. Each ship was armed with dozens of weapon batteries, missile launchers, rail guns, and shielding that Xiaon was surprised humanity had not followed the Combra way and begun a path of conquest. 

His dropship had taken him to the flagship Newbury Castle, a massive human battleship. When he exited into the hangar he was met by a considerable security detail who performed another search of his personage. He had already been searched once before entering the dropship but the security was not taking any chances when it came to the protection of their leaders. 

He was led through the halls of polished steel flanked by armed guards. The path was entirely cleared by security teams and onlookers watched from behind security checkpoints. Xiaon gazed at them and saw many faces of disgust and hatred. Some shouted at him, some spit in his direction, one even tried to lob a object of some type at him before a security guard caught their arm and stopped them. Rather than beat the offender the guard merely shook their head at the would be attacker and they backed down. Xiaon was hardly surprised at the response. They had been fighting for years now and expected nothing less, that was how all true warriors should be on the battlefield. 

Finally, Xiaon stood before massive doors depicting some sort art work. The doors parted and Xiaon saw a massive room. An entire side of the room was a reinforced window showing the Combra homeworld below. Xiaon saw a group of figures huddled around the window and he assumed they were the leadership. Some turned to face Xiaon as the doors opened, others glanced in his direction before resuming conversations they were already having, one figure Xiaon noticed had not appeared to react at all and continued looking out the window at the planet below. 

“Presenting General Xoon as requested.” One of the security guards spoke. “It’s General “Xiaon” actually.” Xiaon said to the guard. The guard turned to him and leaned in close and whispered “I don’t give a fuck what you call yourself. If it were up to me I would have blown your ass out the nearest airlock the moment you entered this ship-” 

 “Thank you master of arms.” The new voice came from the seated figure who had not risen when Xiaon entered. The guard saluted the figure without hesitation and stepped back several paces. Xiaon recognized respect when he saw it and clearly this human guard held the figure in high admiration. 

A slender Slimpton stepped forward from the group. “Would you please come closer General, we can hardly discuss such  important matters with you so far away.” Xiaon looked around the room and then back at the guards. “Do you not think I would not use my arms to strangle the lot of you were I to get close to you?” Xiaon responded. Several of the figures took a step back in fear but the seated figure merely chuckled. “I’m sure you would try, but I have faith that my security team would be over you in a matter of seconds and break your legs and arms without hesitation.” “You would not kill me?” The figure chuckled again. “Unlike your kind, we do not shoot the messenger here.” 

Xiaon stepped closer to the group and was now at the base of the window. He could all of the Coalition species here. One by one they introduced themselves until only the sitting figure remained. “Who are you?” Xiaon asked. 

The figure finally stood up and turned to face him. They appeared as a human female. Youth radiated off her dark skin like the heat of a sun yet Xiaon could see some grey strands of hair making him unable to properly judge her age. She had a strange cloth wrapped around her head revealing only her face, but this concerned Xiaon little as he had never bothered with human fashion. 

“You may call me Admiral Amara, leader of the retaliatory fleets.” Xiaon snorted. “Were it not for your victories I would have laughed at the idea of a female leader of war.” Without warning a guard stepped in behind Xiaon and brought the butt of their rifle hard against the back of Xiaon’s knee causing him to fall to the ground. “YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO THE ADMIRAL WITH SUCH DISRESPECT!” The guard shouted. He raised their rifle again to strike Xiaon when Amara held up a hand to stop them. 

“Thank you master of arms. You don’t need to worry on my account over such trifling thins as insults. They are the signs of a poor loser which only makes the general’s situation all the more laughable, wouldn’t you agree?” The guard saluted again and stepped back into position. 

Xiaon rose to his feet unsteadily. From the reactions of the surrounding leaders it was clear that even though it was a coalition, humanity played a larger role when it came to handling matters. None had sought to stop or censor the guard or the Admiral for their actions.

Admiral Amara returned to her chair and looked at Xiaon. “I believe you came here to discuss something did you now?” She spoke with a smile. Xiaon nodded. “I have come before you as the leader of the Combra Empire to discuss a cessation of hostilities and lay the ground work for a better future for our children.” 

Many of the delegates nodded and smiled at the words. Xiaon could only imagine that many had longed for the day to see the Combra people defeated. Xiaon eyed Amara as she sat in silence. Were it not for humans the Combra would have won the war and these fools would be at his feet begging for mercy. 

“Do you have children General?” Amara’s question took him by surprise. “Excuse me?” “Do you have children General Xiaon?” Amara asked again, her head cocked to the side as she smiled at him. “I have two sons who both serve alongside me. They are still on the planet below.” Amara nodded at the answer. “With a reputation such as your I imagined so. Females of you species must be lining up to bear the great war heroes children.” she chuckled.

Xiaon was unsure how to respond to that and shuffled in place. Before he could answer Amara turned to the other delegates. “Anyone else here have kids?” They all rattled off varying answers, Xiaon was suprised to hear that the Morbith member had some 500 children back on their homeworld. With each answer Amara smiled and nodded her head until she was the last one. 

She pulled a picture from her pocket and showed it. “This is my daughter Gabi, I carry this picture with me every day so I can see her smile.” Amara flipped the picture around and looked at it. “One of the smartest kids at the academies back on Earth. Aced all her classes, never got into any trouble, always willing to help her friends when they needed it. The size of her heart would make any parent proud.” 

Amara stared at it for several seconds more. Xiaon was confused by the situation, this was not what he had expected when he had decided to surrender. From the looks of the other leaders Xiaon knew they were just as confused as he was. 

Amara seemed to remember that there were others in the room. “Apologies, I got distracted. General Xiaon, I couldn’t hear what you said earlier. Could you come closer and say it again?” Xiaon stepped pas the other members until he was in front of Admiral Amara. 

“I, General Xiaon, have come to-” 

A sudden kick in his knee sent Xiaon sprawling to the ground again. Before he could utter another word he felt a metal band placed over his mouth by one of the guards. It that latched to his head and prevented him from speaking and despite how much he clawed at it he could not remove it. 

“I’m sorry General, I still didn’t catch that.” Xiaon glared at Amara who was still sitting and smiling at him. He made to lunge at her but was once again bashed to the ground by the guards. They grabbed hold of his arms and held him on his knees in front of the Admiral. 

“Admiral Amara,” spoke the Slimptom leader spoke, “this is hardly the proper way to-”  Amara held up a finger to her mouth and shushed the member. 

She returned her gaze to the kneeling Xiaon. “Clearly the general here needs time to gather his thoughts about a proper surrender so while he does that I will just speak until he is ready.” She turned to the other delegates. “Understood?” They all nodded in silence, afraid that they would be treated the same if they objected. 

“Do you remember how humanity was drawn into this war general?” Xiaon looked at Amara not understanding the question. “Humanity had no interest in either side and we were fine with staying to our own affairs. That was until one day a Cambora scout vessel fired upon an unarmed cruise liner that was making its way between Earth and one of the coalition worlds.” 

Xiaon remembered it. The scout vessel mistook it for a military cargo ship run by the Morbith and destroyed it. Several hundred of the passengers had been human and the outrage had pushed humanity to enter the war. 

“I remember that week very clearly General.” Amara continued. “Gabi had just finished her time at the academy and had lined up a job with a ship yard orbiting Pluto. She called me to tell me how excited she was to help build the next generation of ships. She had been working herself studying every day and night for weeks to pass and was completely wiped out afterwards. I mean, during our conversation I’m sure she passed out at least once.” She chuckled.

“So I suggested she take some time for herself and go on a vacation before starting the new job. To let loose and have fun.” She turned the picture of her daughter around so Xiaon could see it clearly. 

“Can you guess what she decided to do General?” 

Xiaon tried to speak but all that came out were grunts as a horrifying realization came over him. 

“That’s right....she decided to go on a cruise.” 

Amara’s face lost all warmth instantly and Xiaon now felt as if he could sense a deep rage from her that he did not think humans capable of. 

“She went on a cruise with some of her friends and that’s when your people blew up her ship. Despite repeated calls that they were unarmed, despite the clear signs that it wasn’t a military vessel, despite there being a fucking swimming pool on the deck in plain view!” Amara’s hand was trembling, the picture shaking in her grasp. “And if it was not bad enough for the universe to take my only daughter away from me they never found her body among the wreckage.” She stood from her chair and went to the window. 

“My baby girl is out there somewhere in that cold void, alone and so far from home. My baby girl....” 

She met Xiaon with a gaze cut him to the bone. “You attacked an unarmed ship! You murdered hundreds of innocent lives! You took away the only thing that mattered to me!”

She stormed towards him with her arm raised ready to strike him, but stopped herself. The tension in the room felt like a knifes edge as all watched on waiting for what would happen next. 

Finally, Amara lowered her hand and straightened herself. 

“You attacked the innocent,” She said, the smile slowly returning to her face “and by doing so you have removed any sense of regret I would feel over this.”

She turned back to the window ignoring Xiaon’s confused face. 

“Attention all ships.” She spoke loud and with a commanding voice. “The Combra delegate that came aboard my flagship with promises of surrender spoke only lies and attempted to murder the entire leadership.” 

“MMPHFR?!?!?” Xiaon shouted into his gag. 

“In light of these actions it has become clear that the Combra can not be trusted to peacefully lay down their arms and coexist with the rest of the galaxy. Therefore, for the preservation of peace I hereby authorize orbital bombardments on the entire surface. Turn their world to ash so our fallen may rest in peace. Prepare to fire on my command.” 

Xiaon was now screaming into his gag and trying to rise only to be beaten by the guards holding him. 

“Admiral Amara we must protest!” The delegates now seemed to find their courage. “We can not permit such actions!” “It is nothing less than genocide!” “We must be better than these animals!” 

All Amara had to do was raise a hand to silence them. 

“Any ideals of honor or respect between enemies went right out the window the moment they attacked innocent people.” 

She stared down the lot of them. 

“You might think I am alone in this but there are several hundred grieving families back on Earth that also lost their loved ones to those that didn’t care if they murdered innocent people. We went to war because of them and you all are standing here because of their murder because were it not for that you all would be bowing to this asshole here!” She pointed at Xiaon who was still struggling to get free. 

“So shut the hell up, smile for the damn cameras, and go home and say you won the damn war. Because so help me if any of you attempt to get in our way we will hold you no different from the monsters we are about to erase from the galaxy.” 

The delegates went silent. No one would dare risk the wrath of humanity, not after learning that a few hundred deaths of humans would make them wish to exterminate an entire species. 

“Admiral, all ships report ready to fire.” Came the announcement over the loudspeaker. 

Amara looked down at Xiaon one last time as he pleaded as loud as he could for mercy. 

“Burn it all.” 

[hannya-writes]

Let me stay Dead

Title: Let me stay Dead (Part 1) Summary: The Joker decided to repeat an old act, this time instead of taking Robin, he kidnapped you. Warnings: Angst, sadness, depicted violence? death of a character. Pairing: Jason X Reader (pre-established relationship) Other characters: The Joker, Dick, Tim, Damian & Bruce/Batman N/A: Noctua, is Reader's hero name. Sorry for my English, it's not perfect...yet. I hope you like this story, if you like it please send feedback, and if you want a part two, tell me too! 😘 Also, gif is NOT MINE, but I love it!

Jason was furrowing his brows under the red helmet, his hands holding the screen where gripping it so tight his knuckles where white. You were in the screen bleeding, the dark suit of Noctua wet with blood and mud. The black domino mask it's half ripped, your mouth and cheeks are stained with blood, painted in a painfully reddish color of the bruises, some places where already purple. Your beautiful lips were cut here and there, one of your arms is dislocated or maybe broke, your good hand was holding your side where there’s more blood, the yellow tip of the rib going through the suit reveals the broken state of your rib cage. You are... Broken in so many ways that he knows too well.

— it's ok — he read in your lips before the Joker take you by the chin to paint your lips with blood. — do as you wish, darling — Jason can imagine your soft voice, so smooth and lovely, the same way you talk to Damian pets and even Damian himself when he's being stubborn, you sound patient and understanding, there is no sneer, no mockery. Why aren't you angry, why don't you fight? He wants to yell to the screen, to you. He wants to kill the joker once again. He throws the tablet to the ground shattering it in to little pieces, he doesn't care, it was just a "gift" from the joker.

— where is she? — he growls at the communication system with the batcave, there is silence, Tim is the one whom finally breaks it, there's nothing Dick nor Damian knows what to say.

— There are too many locations — he sounds busy, distracted, Jason guess he is typing in the computer

— send them all to me — he orders, but there a short silence before the third robin finally talks

— one of every 5 houses in Gotham are "possible locations", they...— Tim explain the problem the best way he can, but Jason doesn't hear him, he is immersed in his own fear, pain and trauma, he knows how this will end.

— Jason, We've call everyone, Tim will give us a list of places, we'll find Y/n — Dick wants to say that he can promise that, but he can't. He can't lie, no to Jason, not in this situation.

10 locations appear in his helmet 37 minutes later, and in the second he got them he drove through Gotham desperate to find you before the big punch line.

— Jason — Batman's voice fill the comm — don't do anything stupid — that's enough to make him snap.

— That psycho is going to kill her — he let the emotions get the best of him, fear it's his guide — y/n is everything...—

— Jason, y/n it's smart, she have survived the joker for almost 6 hours, she's giving us time, don't let your emotions win— this time the voice of the bat doesn't sound quite like himself, Jason tremble of pure rage, that's not Batman, that's Bruce Wayne. He's holding himself to hope, hope for you to be alive, hope to get there in time.

— she is your daughter, How could you have let her do this? You were supposed to take care of her, not to put her in the fireline! — As if in synch something explodes behind him, the first location he got and have already check. It was empty, you weren't there, the joker was just playing around, messing with his and Batman's mind, and he was doing great.

The sixth place is not the one, he ride once more the motorcycle but it doesn't start, as if it didn't wanted to move, the next thing take him out of guard: a message appears in the holographic screen of the motorcycle, a Message pre-recorded.

"Hi Jaybird, don't get mad at me, but if you are watching this it means I'm dead. There are so much things I want to say... First of all, don't let Roy get in my kitchen" you laugh at the joke, Jason feels his blood running cold through him. He knew about this 'project' you have had with Tim,  recording something for the ones you loved. There were two parts, the video and the health scanner on the suits, in the moment you died it will send the videos. There where still some problems with it, but you had decided to use the prototype "Second, I don't want you to seek revenge for me, I chose this path. I knew the pros and cons and even then I chose it. I knew this could happen. I don't want you to lose yourself, you are good, you are not a murderer. I want you to be happy, if you won't do it for you... Do it for me. Honor me being the best version of you"

Jason had took of the helmet to watch the video with his own eyes because it didn't felt real. There was time, it must be a mistake. The health scanner was broken.

"And third and most importantly... Let me go, let me stay dead. I want that, I don't want to come back to life" you were crying, that wasn't a petition was a plea, you were begging him.

Jason didn't notice until that moment, but he have stopped breathing, you smiled in the video, he knew that smile, you smiled like that before telling him... "I love you" those were your last words, Jason repeated them with you.

Inside the old house, you smile. The Joker looks at you in disgust. Coughing you laugh.

—  Aren’t you leaving for the big boom?  —  your voice is raspy and laboured.

—  Nah, you just spoiled my fun!  —  

He points a gun at you.

BOOM

[rueitae]

Between Rocks and A Hard Place

Summary: Lance and Pidge are caved in and cut off from the team. Pidge is hurt and there are pirates waiting for them.They have some time on their hands.

Read on Ao3

One last hurrah before s8, a canon verse plance fic. Roughly 8100 words. Thanks @sp4c3-0ddity for the usual. :)

~~~~~

“Pidge,” Lance rasped. His throat burned from persistent chatter and he’d lost count how many times he’d said her name, but he had to keep it up. He leaned forward to look down on his teammate’s unconscious and troubled face, tears blurring his vision. It brought sobs to his throat - a poor substitute for the lack of drinking water - seeing her so still, scratched and bloodied.

He gently nudged her shoulder pad. “Pidge, please wake up. This isn’t a good place for a nap,” he said, the weak joke meant more for him than for her. Anything to lighten things up in this dark cave.

Lance heaved a sigh of relief, rocking back on his heels when Pidge finally - finally - stirred and groaned. She opened her eyes blearily.

“Lance?” she asked, still clearly in the fog of sleep. Her eyes lazily scanned the enclosure, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“Pirates,” Lance explained calmly. The faster she remembered the better. He didn’t have the memory restoration device from the S.P.R.A.W.L incident, so he hoped to jog her brain the old-fashioned way. “We were checking out a smuggling operation? Our leads brought us to a mine. There was an explosion and now we’re stuck. You blacked out for about ten doboshes.”

Pidge slid her forearms back towards her shoulders and pushed her upper body off the ground. Her eyes grew wide, and she let out a sharp yelp of pain, nearly falling onto her back once again.

Lance reached out to cushion her fall, heart racing for Pidge’s condition and his lack of means to do anything about it. Worse, her outburst garnered the attention of the pirates they’d come to investigate. They waited just outside the wall of fallen rock that kept him and Pidge separated from the outside. Lance blocked out their ambient jeers and focus his concern on Pidge.

He lowered her gently back to the ground. Her initial scream had turned into hurried breaths, eyes knit tightly in agony. He gulped; their situation was not good. Lance could see only two choices left to them at this point. Injured as Pidge was, he wondered briefly if the pirates were equipped and honorable enough to treat her should they surrender quietly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Pidge opened her eyes just long enough glare as she gave the order. Sweat dripped from her brow, exhausted from her labored breaths. She wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed. Lance hissed, the pain of the pinch surprising him.

He let his shoulders slump, not bothering to ask how she’d read his mind. “They might have medical supplies. You need something, Pidge. We have a better chance of getting back to our Lions if you can run.”

“I can wait for rescue,” Pidge insisted. “We can’t count on pirate goodwill.” She gasped for breath, tightening her grip on his arm as much as she could. “Please, Lance.”

“Okay. Okay,” Lance repeated softly, refusing to outright make a promise he couldn’t keep. He sandwiched her hand with his other, offering comfort. His stomach grew ill as Pidge moaned to cope with her pain.

He activated the medical scanner on his gauntlet, able to finally assess her injuries in this quiet moment. “Nothing broken, but there’s a fracture in your right wrist… and your right knee,” he reported. “You probably have a concussion. Where does it hurt the most?”

“Makes sense,” Pidge responded. She took hold of the offending wrist gingerly, poking and stroking it carefully. “I’m a bit better now, but my shoulder is killing me. Knee and wrist are fine if I don’t move.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. We’re tucked in good.” He lifted his gaze to the wall of rock, stomach twisting. Cracks between different-sized boulders brought light inside, but there was no hole large enough for them to sneak out.

Even if they could, the pirates on the other side would be waiting for them.

Their current prison was a new and incomplete surface mine. The not yet harvested gems reflected what little sun came through, providing a decent amount of light for the enclosure. It couldn’t have been any bigger than their two Castle bedrooms combined.

“Can you help me sit up?” Pidge asked. “I’ll try and get through to the team. Hopefully the dust storm will be over soon.”

Lance lifted Pidge to rest sitting up against the back wall of the mine. “I’ll go check. Last look I think I saw a bit of the sun.”

“Oi - Paladin! Green still alive in there? You ain’t fallen asleep, have ya?”

Lance winced as he recognized the voice of the pirate leader. He wanted to continue filling Pidge in on the situation and try to devise some sort of escape plan, or at the very least comfort each other more before having to deal with this.

“I’m here, Bront,” Lance grumbled - loud enough for them to hear. “She’s fine. What do you want?”

“Good to hear!” the pirate responded jovilly. “Two live Paladins better than one alive and one dead.”

“Oh no,” Pidge whispered blandly, a groan in her voice. “He’s just as peppy as I remember. I was hoping that was a dream.”

Lance patted her good hand and stood. “Take it easy, Pidge; I got this one.” His voice sounded more confident than he felt, but Pidge needed all the rest she could get. He walked over to the wall, stepping up on a few rocks near the bottom of the sloped pile to a hole roughly the size of his head. He braced his arms on either side of it, holding his balance on the loose rubble below him. “What it is?” he asked.

A green face with red markings appeared before him. “Just wanted to let you know we’ve got a digger comin’ in the morning to fish you two out. It’s a long walk to the spaceport, so you’d best get plenty of rest.”

And where their legitimate ride home was, Lance thought with dread building in his heart. Their Unilu contact wasn’t being paid by the hour and would not wait for them. Pidge was not going to be able to handle that fast of a walk. He’d have to carry her, and if he carried her he couldn’t protect her from blaster fire. He wasn’t exactly one hundred percent perfect health himself either.

Between that and the number of pirates just outside, Lance knew the decision was made for them, but he wasn’t about to let Bront know that.

“Why are you telling us this? You planning the evening meal?” he quipped instead.

“Of course we’re eatin’! Far as I can tell it’s roasted coynet. Gives off an especially divine aroma,” he said with the air of an experienced food critic. In an instant his joyful smile twisted into a wicked grin. “If you ever escape I highly recommend you try some.”

Lance’s stomach growled preemptively at the prospect of no food until further notice. He knew his face reflected his fear too. Weakened, they’d be easy pickings to capture. They had nothing but themselves to offer, and unless the team came, the pirates would have them regardless.

“Don’t waste your energy, Lance,” Pidge told him. He turned to acknowledge her, but her focus rested solely on her gauntlet computer.

“You just wait until our buddies get here,” Lance snapped back at the opening. Maybe they could get away with a bluff. “You don’t want to see any of them angry.”

“A chance I am willing to take for a big payout. There are plenty of folks rich enough to buy off two Paladins of Voltron,” Bront said in a far more sinister tone. “Do whatever you need to prepare yourselves. Your freedom is ticking away.” He turned away, a wide grin on his face. “Shevp! Welcome back! Did ya find the herds yet?”

His voice blended into the chatter of the pirate crew at large as he moved further away, leaving the two Paladins in silence aside from the shifting of rubble, still unsettled from the cave-in.

Lance leaned his head against the wall. “Hurry up, guys,” he whispered under his breath.

“They know where we are,” Pidge said. Lance jumped in surprise. “I can hear everything in here,” she teased. “We’ll miss check-in a few varga from now. They might get here before morning.”

“You’re right,” Lance agreed. He stepped down from the ledge and put his hands to his hips. “Look at us, roles reversed.” He gestured between the two of them. “I’m usually the optimistic one. I thought you’d tell us our odds against making it out of here are too low.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Pidge was surely uncomfortable, but her injuries weren’t fatal. She was good company and she was right; the team would come for them.

“I guess we’re rubbing off on each other,” she said as he took a seat next to her. Why did rocks have to be so hard? “‘Something in space is always trying to kill us’?” She snorted, but quickly turned to him with a smile. “You are using your brain more though, preparing for logical eventualities.”

Lance forgot to breathe. The way she smiled softly at him, the light teasing and compliments, he couldn’t find a way to suck in any air.

Like lightning, both instantaneous and illuminating, he saw Pidge in a new light.

And maybe he always had, but now he realized it. Pidge was pretty and one of his very best friends.

He liked her. As in like-liked her.

Pidge was right. They’d been rubbing off and growing on each other for a long time.

“Lance? Are you okay?” Her scrunched face told of confusion and a hint of worry.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. Was that a squeak? Oh no. Now what? Throw in pick up lines? PIdge always looked so disgusted when he used them on Allura --

Oh.

Perhaps this newfound feeling wasn’t just one way..

Oh quiznak, and they were on the cusp of being captured.

“It looks like your brain broke,” she said flatly, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I spoke too soon.” She returned her attention to her wrist comm.

“Hey! It is not!” His stomach twisted. Maybe he judged Pidge’s feelings wrong. She probably thought he was still a dumb not-sharpshooter goofball -

He could do something about that.

Lance summoned the red bayard and let it morph into rifle form. “I’ll show you brains. I’ve got a plan. We’ve got time and there’s plenty of openings. I’ll take them out one by one.”

Pidge considered him carefully, more worry in her eyes than anything. “There’s a lot of them out there, Lance. If you don’t they’ll be even more mad at us. If you do, we’ll have to wait on the — "

Lance dropped his bayard as Pidge took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

“Pidge, what is it? What’s wrong?” He held the back of her head and part of her shoulder. He searched with his eyes but found nothing.

“It - it hurts. My leg.” She leaned into him, shrieking every time she moved.

“You need pain medicine at least,” Lance insisted. His heart raced. What should he do? He had nothing.

“No,” Pidge gasped firmly. “It’s not worth it.”

There was nothing Lance hated more than being useless. He wasn’t a doctor and he had no medical supplies. He couldn’t break them out of this cave and he couldn’t get ahold of the team. Whether they came before the pirates could get in or not he had no way of knowing.

The only thing he could do was offer Pidge comfort...and he could negotiate. But he had to put his full trust in the rest of the team to rescue them.

Decision made, he carefully set her down against the wall. “I’ll be right back, Pidge. Hold on.”

She wanted to respond, the way she looked at him with fury and fear, only for a cycle of coughing, convulsing, and pain to strike her.

Resolve washed over him at the prospect of finally taking action. He took up his bayard and rose to the designated speaking hole.

“Hey, Bront! We need to talk!” he yelled, pounding a fist against the wall.

The pirate leader lifted his head in acknowledgment, then waved casually to dismiss his companions.

“What can I do for you, Red Paladin?” he asked upon approach. Bront grinned in a knowing manner and Lance felt his stomach twist, flinching unintentionally. The man relished having him and Pidge at his mercy.

“My friend needs medical attention,” he said. No sense in wasting time, not when her sobs echoed around the cavern. “She won’t be able to walk tomorrow in her condition. I need something to mend her leg at least.”

Bront laughed. The delight he took in this was sickening. “I think I’ve got enough room on a machine for that tiny one. Unless you have something to make it worth my while?”

“A clean capture,” Lance managed, he hoped, confidently. “If you give me something to help ease her pain, maybe even fix her, then I won’t put up a fight in the morning. None of your crew gets hurt and we all get out of this desert faster.”

Bront made a show of thinking, a long hum on his lips.

Lance sighed. It was just like dealing with the Unilu. “I suppose my word as a Paladin isn’t good enough?”

“I prefer collateral on a physical level. If you’ve got something, I have several vials of panacea we recently acquired from the nearby Galra base. Sounds like Green could use it.”

Lance’s heart leapt in hope. Panaceas were good and legit if it came from a Galra base. He’d seen them work before, essentially a healing pod in a syringe. It could fix her leg or wrist, but not both.

This was worth making the exchange for. If Pidge was in less pain the odds increased that she could help him form a solid escape plan. She’d be able to run if need be. He paused to let the thump of his heart fade from the inside of his ears.

He held his bayard up to the hole, back in its base form. “This is my only weapon. This for panacea.”

“You’re a good man to be so concerned for your teammate,” Bront mused. “Or maybe you’re thinking of other things?”

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked, legitimately confused. “Of course I’m worried about her!”

“Ahhh. I know what desperation sounds like,” he teased. “You have the cry of a lover.”

All warmth drained from Lance’s cheeks. He should be embarrassed to have been called out like this so soon after his heart revealed itself for Pidge, but there was no time, and the lewd expression Bront met him with chilled him to the bone. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Still want to heal her knowing she has a ride tomorrow or”--the devilish grin only grew--“are you planning to engage in a more private activity?”

Lance audibly gasped. He thought… oh Quizn - bad choice of word.

“N-no! Nothing like that!” he finally replied angrily, trying desperately not to seem flustered at the pirate’s implication.

Bront threw his head back and laughed. “I like you,” he roared. “I think I have the perfect client in mind. You will thank me later!”

“Look, are you going to take me up on this or not?” Lance demanded against the second round to laughter.

The pirate shifted and produced a perfectly sealed package with a syringe filled with panacea inside. The color was a perfect shade of blue, not teal like many of the knock-offs he and the team had encountered.

Lance’s brain stalled as he realized the moment of truth was now.

“Take care of the lady tonight - my treat. I won’t even ask for her weapon.”

Lance set his bayard inside the crack, not trusting himself to speak. His cheeks were on fire from embarrassment and he knew that if he said anything it wouldn’t come out threatening or dignified.

Bront set the package in the same area, and Lance took it. He held it tight, as if it would make him safer now that his weapon was with pirates.

“A slick piece of tech you’ve got here,” Bront said, examining the weapon airily as it swung like a pendulum from his finger.

“It’s old so don’t break it,” Lance grumbled. “I’ll be taking it back when our friends get here to rescue us.”

Sobs from Pidge's direction took his attention away from the pirate. Her helmet was off now, lying a few feet away. It was her balled up form shivering in pain that thrust a dagger through his own heart.

"This had better work," Lance threatened, holding up the panacea for emphasis.

Bront flipped the dormant red bayard and caught it expertly with his other hand, rolling it onto a single finger, twirling it around as if it were a toy. "Guess you'll find out soon, Loverboy. Good luck. I'll see you in the morning."

The pirate walked away. Lance refused to watch as the man made light use of his weapon. Attending to Pidge was far more important. He jumped down from the higher rock and jogged back to where he'd left her. Ripping open the bag with his teeth, he knelt at her side.

"Pidge, I've got a dose of that healing pod juice," he said lightly. "I'm going to use it on your leg, okay?"

Pidge hissed, her eyes clenched shut in pain. "You idiot," she managed. "Hurry, I can't - I think i might throw up."

Lance made quick work taking off her boot and shin armor. He needed to inject it directly into her skin. "Just stay still, Pidge. Almost there," he said, making his voice as soothing and comforting as possible. He rolled up the black under suit to her thigh, careful around the knee. He winced when he encountered the deep red gash right on the joint, surrounded by shades of blue.

"Okay, here goes nothing," he said as a warning. He gave the syringe a good shake before injecting it into the side of her knee.

Pidge screamed, sitting up straight in a flash, huffing and gasping as the liquid worked its magic. Lance sat mesmerized as the gash in her knee knitted itself up.

The process was slower than he'd have liked. In a healing pod Pidge would have been asleep and under anesthetic while muscles and bones righted themselves. Right now, she felt and saw it all.

The pain had to be excruciating.

Once the liquid was fully injected, his usefulness playing physician stopped. He scooted over behind Pidge and wrapped both arms around her tightly. "I know it's not much," he said into her ear over her screams and sobs. "Just focus on me, not the pain."

"I'm trying!" Pidge yelled. She grabbed his leg with her good arm and squeezed for all she was worth. "Lance, it’s too much. I can't - " Her coherent sentence went interrupted by more crying, writhing in his arms.

She twisted and turned, kicking both her legs wildly. So far so good; at least she had movement now. "It'll be over soon," Lance promised - he wasn't sure how in the universe he was still so calm - and he hoped he was right. He didn't know how long this would take, but for now he just held her tighter. "I'm not going anywhere. Think about Green; she's probably worried about you, right? Or your projects - whatever you normally think about. Do something crazy - anything. I'm here for you."

Pidge angled her head to face him. She stared, long enough for tears to stream down her face and shiver in pain. But she had stopped screaming. Hopefully the panacea was almost done working and -

His brain stopped when she dragged his face towards her own and locked their lips together.

Her grip on him pinched slightly, but it was hardly a blip on his emotional radar compared to kissing Pidge.

Lance knew he wasn't putting much effort into it. Pidge pressed forward enough for the both of them, but he didn't pull away. The experience was pleasant and warm, and he supported the back of her head and shifted his body to sit at her side to make it easier on her neck.

Surely this answered the question of Pidge having any romantic feelings towards him. Scarcely realizing his own mere minutes ago, he'd not had the time to develop any expectations or fantasies.

He was glad, because Pidge was a great kisser.

Pidge broke off and immediately buried her face in his chest - before he could catch a glimpse of her reaction. She left his mind in a foggy haze from both surprise and how right it felt.

Her breathing steadied, and Lance stole a look to her knee. It looked as if nothing had ever happened to it. Relief overflowed from his chest and he relished in Pidge’s softer and easier breaths. He sighed and nestled his nose into her hair, emboldened by her initiation.

“Feel better?” he mumbled, running a supportive hand up and down her back.

It took Pidge a long moment to reply, and she didn’t bother lifting her head. Lance worried about any adverse effects from the panacea. None of them had actually used it before. They’d assumed it would work just as well on humans, but really who knew?

Pidge groaned; at least it wasn’t a pain-induced one. “Physically? Yes. I might die of embarrassment though. I should have asked you first.”

“The kiss?” Lance let out a sharp laugh. “Well, I did say you could do anything. That’s on me.”

She turned her head up slightly, enough that Lance could almost see one whole eye. “You didn’t mind?”

“I’m still holding you, aren’t I?” he teased. “Besides, this just means I owe you one back, right?”

Pidge didn't respond right away, but her frown and furrowed eyebrows betrayed her sour mood. His heart stilled. Had he said the wrong thing?

He loosened his grip as she gently pushed off from his chest. She stood, shakily at first, and Lance lunged forward to held steady her.

The irony of kneeling before Pidge and holding her hand in this particular moment was not lost on him. His heart beat loud, his ears throbbing.

"Looks like that healing stuff really did the job," he said in an attempt to break the awkwardness.

"Did you mean that?" Pidge asked, voice firm. Her gaze likewise ensnared him and he couldn’t break away. She wasn’t talking about the panacea. "I can say it didn't mean anything, just a distraction from the pain."

She offered an out, but Lance didn't want to take it. Pirate suggestiveness aside, he didn't know what would become of them tomorrow, if their relationship - friendship or otherwise - might somehow be used against them or if they’d be separated. He didn't want to lose this chance, not when he'd already missed the opportunity to help Shiro's clone. He refused to put anyone else in danger because he didn't take action.

So he stood and clasped her hand. That alone pleased him more than it should have when Pidge's face turned a bright red and her lips parted in surprise. The corners of his mouth curled up on instinct into his favorite teasing and flirtatious smile, but his heart felt more sincere than ever.

"Trying to get out of paying me back? You'll have to do better than that, Pidge."

She clenched her fingers around his in anger, but did not take her hand away. "If you're going to start flirting with me just like with every other girl in the universe, you can forget it. I kissed you out of necessity and delirium. I don't want you to read anything into -- "

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, interrupting her. "So, in delirium and in pain, the first thing you thought to do was kiss me?" he said in humor as he found her eyes once more. "Now we're even."

Angry eyes melted into soft and defeated orbs. "This is a bad time for this," she said.

"I don't know when we'll next have time, Pidge. So, let me try, okay?" At a small nod and with butterflies flying into the wall of his stomach, he said, "Even though this situation really sucks, I'm glad I'm stuck here with you. You're the smartest, bravest, most creative person I know. You're amazing, and I felt like telling you every day." Pidge froze, emitting a soft gasp, but he continued, "You're beautiful, Pidge, inside and out. I would play the Gameflux all day every day with you if I could."

He didn't expect his words to open the floodgates in her eyes.

"When we met at the Garrison, you wanted to be my friend," Pidge managed to choke out. "You kept trying to be my friend, even though I pushed you away so many times. I just... I just wanted to - I wanted to hear that from you so much. I didn't think I'd ever -- " Her lip wobbled. "I hate caves and I hate pirates!"

She fell limply against his chest, unable to speak any further until her tears dried up. Lance held her close, not about to let her fall. He didn't need to hear any more. Pidge had been waiting long enough, and he felt awful about it.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while.

"You gave them your bayard," she stated, wiping her tears away and changing the subject. She had the right idea. It was time to figure out a plan.

"Yeah, I did." No sense in lying about it.

Pidge sniffled. "We're outmanned, outgunned, and at a strategic disadvantage."

"Ten to one, at least," Lance supplied. "But the team is on their way, the pirates are going to dig us out, and you can walk."

Pidge inhaled deeply and took a step back, letting her shoulder roll down and relax with the exhale. She did not let go of his hand. When she opened her eyes, tears were nearly gone, and in their place a steely determination.

"We can assume they have a functioning communication device able to get past the storm since they called in for machinery," she said methodically. "If I can get to it, I can contact the Coalition channels to see if anyone is closer than the Atlas.”

“I’ll keep them talking as long as I can,” he offered. “You’ll be okay with one hand?”

“I’ll have to be.” She held the injured wrist. “I should keep this elevated.”

Lance looked around the cave for inspiration. “Well, there’s plenty of rocks,” he joked.

Pidge’s face fell. “I guess that will work…”

He sighed dramatically. “Pidge, I am not going to let you rest on a rock if I can help it. Here.”

He settled himself down on the floor, shifting around for the most comfortable position. Once his head found a nook in the rubble that wasn’t too sharp he set his arm around a rock that was about head high, and gestured for Pidge to join him.

“You can use me as a pillow. Come on.”

At her uncertain face, he added, “It’ll keep us warm too. We should be well-rested for tomorrow.”

Pidge sighed in surrender. It took her only a few steps to reach him and curl up beside him. He didn’t have to coax her to rest her head on his chest and lay her arm across his abdomen.

“Comfy?” he asked once she stopped adjusting. He wrapped his arm around her back when she shivered and snuggled in closer.

“As much as I will be. Thanks, Lance.”

He rested his own head on hers. “Anything for you, Pidge.”

They descended into an easy silence. Lance watched the opening in the wall as Pidge’s sleeping breaths nearly lulled him to sleep.

He had no reason to think Bront lied to him about the digging machine coming in the morning, other than the man being a pirate. He’d been truthful so far as Lance could tell, and to even have panacea on his person meant he took care of his crew. They could have ended up with worse captors.

One of them needed to be awake, in case he made a move early. Since Pidge needed all the sleep she could for her recovery, that left him.

As the sun set outside,  it grew more difficult to distinguish the hole in the wall with the rest of the cave. The pirates kept Lance awake, a group of them keeping vocal well into the night.

“You didn’t have to get me the panacea,” Pidge said out of nowhere, startling him. Her voice was laced with the grogginess of waking.

“Yes I did,” he insisted. “It was killing me to see you in so much pain. Besides, it... would have been a short fight even with my bayard. I was using my brain, promise,” he teased.

Pidge shuffled to reach the computer on her gauntlet, still content to use him as a pillow.

Static echoed when she turned on communications. “The dust storm must still be going on. I still can’t get a hold of anybody.”

“Didn’t Coran say they could last for days?” Lance gulped. The pirates could have them well off planet by then.

“Weeks,” Pidge corrected solemnly. “Did Bront tell you where he was taking us? I can at least leave a scrambled message for Matt.”

I know just the client.

Lance shivered. With how fixated Bront was over their, at the time, non-existent romantic relationship, he really didn’t want to find out. He hoped that Hunk’s famous gut feeling would be enough to bring the team on time.

“He didn’t say, and hopefully we’ll never find out,” Lance said, unintentionally holding Pidge even closer. “We missed check-in a while ago. The team has to be on their way.”

Pidge leaned back on his arm, sending him a determined glare. “We have to be ready if they don’t.”

“I know,” Lance conceded. There wasn’t much they could do except stall for time. He could talk and Pidge would do her share of distracting, but they had to wait until they were free and that wouldn’t take long once the digger arrived.

Or would it?

“Hey Pidge, how powerful do you think that digging machine will be?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, puzzled by his train of thought. “I saw a lot of machinery that looked like twenty-first century Earth tech. We might have ten dobashes or so before they can make a hole big enough to get us out.”

“How long would it be if we reinforced the wall with Altean tech?”

Pidge opened her mouth to remind him they didn’t have any other equipment, but stopped herself, her face lighting up.

“I still have my bayard! I could try and weld the rocks together,” she said with a bright smile. “Lance, that’s genius.”

His chest glowed and his heart fluttered at the compliment. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear her praise him like that, confirmation that he wasn’t dumb and not just a goofball.

“Are… you crying?” she asked, breaking Lance out of his reflective world.

He was tearing up, he realized.

Pidge searched his face for answers and he hated that she frowned instead of smiled. “It’s like I’ve actually never said a nice thing to you.”

“That’s not true!” Lance was quick to retort, frazzled that this was suddenly about him. “You uh…”

Her eyes grew wide with horrified realization. “Seriously? I swear every time I think about our conversations I remember saying something nice.”

“No… just… goofball, not being the team sharpshooter…generally in the way.” Each and every time he’d been unsure of himself and his place on the team.

It had hurt to see her in physical pain before, but he may as well have stabbed himself. Because now her emotional pain was explicitly his fault.

Pidge sucked in a sharp breath. “Lance, I’m — “

“No, it’s okay. I deserved it,” he said. He averted his gaze, electing to continue his lookout duties. All traces of daylight were gone now, and even the pirate chatter had diminished. A low hum of insects was all that remained. “It took me too long to man up out here, too long to take things seriously.”

The weight of Pidge’s head returned to his chest.

“Being a goofball is one of my favorite things about you,” she said quietly. “You lift us all up. If I hadn’t been focused on finding my family I would have enjoyed hanging out with you after class. Even if I was annoyed, I was really grateful for the distraction.

“And if that’s not enough, I love playing video games with you too. You’re a good right hand to Keith and for the rest of us, and you are our sharpshooter. You’re amazing, Lance. Even if we - I - don’t say it often or at all, that’s the truth.” She lifted her head and smiled at him, a soft beautiful smile she usually reserved only for her family now was his too. “It’s true you’ve grown for the better, but we all have. None of us started this crazy adventure perfect. Don’t ever lose what makes you, you.”

“Pidge.” The faucets opened. Sobbing into her hair wasn’t his most ideal way to begin a relationship (or being stuck in a cave surrounded by pirates if he was honest), but the way she held him as tightly as she could despite her fractured wrist made him feel welcome to stay that way as long he wanted.

All seemed fine and perfect. Apart from the circumstances, Pidge’s arms were exactly where he wanted to be.

The ambient humming noise that Lance once thought belonged to local wildlife grew more prominent and distinctly more machine-like. Pebbles shook and crumbled from the wall faster than before.

“Oh quiznak, they’re coming.” Lance’s heart sunk. This was too early. They weren’t going to be able to even start their plan.

Just as distressed, Pidge flopped over and began to roll the back undersuit back down to cover her leg, slow going one-handed. “Help me get my boot back on.”

Lance sat up and grabbed the boot and shin guard, the urgency of the task keeping his mind from dwelling on what might be waiting for them after the pirates.

The temperature in the cave rose, and though the task of armoring Pidge was a simple one, water dripped from his brow into his eyes. Wiping his face did nothing but agitate it, covering his gloves in moisture.

Pidge suffered as well. “Sorry, I sweat pretty bad normally,” she said as he slipped her boot the wrong way for a second time. The last piece.

Rock fell to the ground with a great clash, diverting Lances attention.

A hole large enough for several people to fit through was now the entrance to the cave. Fresh air filtered in, the night breeze cooling and drying his sweat. The drilling machine responsible sat just outside, the drill bit powering down and still glowing a shade of orange from its heat.

Pidge took his hand, trembling. “Okay, a little more advanced than twenty-first century Earth.”

A loud click sounded and bright lights flooded the cave. Lance yelped and diverted his eyes, his senses overloaded. Pidge groaned and buried her face in his side.

“Good morning Paladins! I hope you slept well!”

Lance squinted to see Bront filtering in with five additional crew. His fingers itched for his bayard, but it dangled far away from him on the pirate’s belt. The sight of it served as a physical reminder of his promise not to resist, and it took all of his willpower to remain still while holding Pidge’s boot.

It wouldn’t stop him from snarking.

“Was hard to with how loud you all were out there,” Lance said, making sure to glare holes in the man.

The head pirate laughed. He gestured from his crew to the Paladins, a wordless order to restrain them.

“Looks like I’m right on time! Would have hated to walk in on you two in the act; I can respect a couple’s privacy.”

Lance knew he shouldn’t, but he looked to Pidge. He couldn’t not after her exclamation of ‘what’ to Bront’s comment. Her face was caught between horror and rage.

Two pirates lifted Lance to his feet, one on each arm. “We don’t want to hear it from you,” he hissed, hoping the man would get the hint.

He didn’t. A devilish joy flashed in his eyes, a grin to match. “Despite the digger coming early, you were able to unleash all your passions and get dressed again minus a single boot.” Bront shifted his weight and clapped slowly and deliberately. “I am impressed.” He laughed in almost unbridled delight. “My client is going to love you.”

Lance felt sick, so he refocused his energy on the pirates lifting Pidge to her feet. One of them finished the job of putting her boot back on. Seeing her able to stand on her own made him feel slightly better. The trade had been worth it

“Careful,” he told them as authoritatively as he could. “Her wrist is still healing.”

“Where are you taking us?” Pidge demanded.

“Don’t you worry, Ceronis takes good care of his wards. Talked with him last night; he doesn’t have any Earthlings yet. You’ll get a pretty cushy room - plenty romantic too, I’ve heard.” He winked at them.

Lance forgot to breath out, sucking in more air than he needed and coughing. They were going to some kind of crazy collector and encouraged to be intimate. His chest tightened at the implications, on the verge of panic.

Where was the team?

Pidge kicked and growled. “That’s sick! Let us go!”

Bront made a show of considering. “Why not?” He shrugged. “It’s only fair to bring you in together. Secure them to the transport. We head for the spaceport as soon as camp is packed.”

He turned on his heel and headed outside.

A pair of handcuffs linked Pidge’s good hand with one of Lance’s with a resounding click.

“You can keep it as our gift to you,” one of the crew teased. Lance fell forward from a rough push, his boots scraping across the ground and barely keeping his footing. The others joined in the laughter.

Pidge tumbled into him. Already unbalanced, they hit the ground clumsily.

Pidge gasped sharply in pain. Her wrist must have been hit.

“No need to be pushy,” he twisted to growl at their guards.

The head of the group gestured with his blaster. “Don’t waste time, get up.”

He didn’t want to risk further incapacitating Pidge, so he helped her to stand with him while she nursed the offending wrist, eyes shut as if to will the pain away. If they had any hope of escape, it wasn’t now and they both needed to be as fit as possible.

Guns to their backs, they marched out of the cave. The sudden activity clawed at Lance’s stomach, reminding him neither had eaten since they left the castle.

The cool fresh air and the cloudless, starry sky refreshed his sore muscles, and he let his feet dig into the soft sand. It would be peaceful if not for the dozens of desert vehicles, all clearly armed to the teeth with turrets on top and blasters out the sides. With a few cosmetic changes, they would have fit in with any group Earth tanks.

Bront led them to one.

“Since you’ve both been so cooperative, I arranged some special transportation to the spaceport.” He put his back to them and pounded on the fortified side.

With a stinging yank, Lance lost control of his arm. He opened his mouth to deliver a quip, needing something to lift his spirits.

Pidge paid him no mind. She’d pulled up her wrist computer. Trying to send the team a message, he realized. The storm had subsided, so they could get ahold of anyone now. He shut his mouth. She typed fast even with the shared weight of his arm, wincing with every tap.

Pidge was working, which meant he needed to as well.

Bront’s pounding opened a door in the side of the tank. His heart sank, knowing where this was going. If they went in there, communications definitely wouldn’t work.

“Oh come on,” he complained, making a point to shield Pidge’s actions with his body. “It’s nice out and it was super stuffy in the mine. We can walk for a bit.”

A sharp gasp. “Watch it!” Pidge snapped, her eyes lined in water. Their guards had caught her in the act. One of them pulled a knife out of her cuff, which crackled with electricity, rendered useless.

“Dude, I told you her wrist is bad,” Lance added in anger. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Don’t be sending any cries for help,” Bront retorted, smiling. It was not a nice smile, and it chilled him worse than the night air.  He bowed mockingly. “Ladies first, I insist.”

Blasters hummed to life behind them, leaving only one choice.

He hadn’t felt this hopeless since that first showdown with Zarkon.

A soft pressure wrapped around his hand. Pidge’s grip tightened in sync with her angry face, tinged with sadness.

“You should have listened to Lance,” she spat. “Our friends are going to tear you apart looking for us.”

“I’d almost welcome the challenge if I weren’t here for business,” Bront aired. His face twisted into a nasty scowl. “Get in. Another word or pause and I’ll have Keln take out your whole arm, Green.”

Lance refused to risk the bluff. He squeezed Pidge’s hand and stepped forward, making the choice for her. She reciprocated the comforting gesture and offered no resistance when helped up through the hatch.

Lance awkwardly followed head first, yelping as gravity pulled him to the floor inside. He landed on his back, one arm splayed out and the other stretched uncomfortably, still connected to Pidge. He twisted to his side as Bront pushed his legs completely inside.

The floor was less cold and less hard than he had expected.

“It takes these machines about three varga to cross the desert. You two do whatever you want in that time; no one will bother you,” Bront said in delight. “See ya then.”

The door shut, several locks clicking with finality, and total darkness engulfed them.

Fairy lights illuminated the area moments later. The strings decorated the cushioned walls and ceiling, the floor similarly pillow-like. Actual pillows sat at one end.

It was very… romantic, for a holding cell.

It only served to unnerve Lance further. The list of things he would give to be in this position with a girl he liked was long, minus being kidnapped of course.

And he was here with Pidge.

“He - he’s not kidding, is he?” Pidge asked, cheeks a dark red. “He thinks we’ve already - oh quiznak,” she moaned.

“I don’t think he’s kidding about his client either,” he said. He took deep breaths, trying to slow his adrenaline filled heart. “Did you get a hold of anyone?”

Pidge shook her head and sat, resting her injured wrist on her knees. “I just managed to get out some incoherent code. They’d know it’s me and that’s about it. If they crack it.”

“There’s still time,” Lance said quickly. He sat up, crossing his legs for comfort. “Red’s saved Keith from death tons of times, so the Lions could find us too.”

“We’re not about to die, Lance,” Pidge snapped. “We’re getting shipped off to be an attraction at a private zoo run by a pervert. We’ve never heard of this guy. The odds of the team finding us after we get off-planet are — “

“The odds are bad, I get it. Everything about this is bad.” He took her hand. “We’ll find a way out of this. I promise.”

Pidge steeled her gaze. “As soon as we can con tech out of the pervert I am making a communicator.”

Lance grinned, heart much lighter with Pidge planning their escape. “That’s why I love you, Pidge.”

A familiar purr surrounded his mind like a roaring campfire. Words did not come, but all thoughts of escape were cut off and the void replaced with an image of this planet in his mind's eye.

It was gone as quickly as it came. Across from him Pidge blinked, looking as if coming out of a deep sleep.

“Did you see that?” he asked breathlessly.

Pidge nodded, a victorious grin growing on her face. “I heard Green! The Lions know where we are and they’re coming!”

A quintet of deep roars permeated the walls of their thick metal prison. Pirates screamed and laser fire tore into the nearby landscape.

Lance gulped. “I sure hope they know we’re in one of these.”

Metal on metal screeched, drowning the scream that Lance made the vocal motion for, but couldn’t hear. Pidge dragged him back as the fairy lights were ripped into the open, along with the other half of the cell, by yellow claws.

“Lance! Pidge!” It had never felt better to hear Hunk’s voice. “Guys, I found them! Are you two okay?!”

“Hunk!” Pidge yelled, delighted. He let Pidge drag him to the new, much larger, door and waved.

“I’m sure glad to see you, buddy!” Lance yelled back in relief. “Pidge has a hurt wrist! We’re fine otherwise!”

The Yellow Lion stood imposingly over the battle, where the Blue and Black Lions circled above providing air support. Green and Red landed nearby, anxiety rattling through the bond to get their Paladins back in the pilot seat.

Lance beamed. He always relished the role of Paladin, but in this moment he let pride take over fully, both for himself and for the team he was a part of.

“Oh man that’s such a relief,” Hunk breathes. “So, Yellow kept showing me images of this guy and I’m guessing he’s the cause of this. I have him pinned under a claw.”

“Keep him right there!” Lance hollered back, scowling. “I owe him a piece of my mind.”

“I’m coming with,” Pidge said. “I want to punch him. Also,” she chuckled, “we’re still handcuffed together.”

Lance wasn’t sure why, but it was hilarious. He broke down in a giggling fit, unbound hand clutching his side. Pidge joined him on the floor, sputtering into uproarious laughter of her own.

Why not? Lance thought. This entire situation was like a weird nightmare nearly come true. Of all the times to reveal a mutual crush - it wasn’t not funny.

It was a better coping mechanism than taking it seriously.

“I need to get my bayard back,” he managed to say, though his chest hurt from laughing too much. “I told him our friends were going to be angry.”

Pidge wiped the tears from her eyes, dragging his hand with her. He took the opportunity to help, hoping his gloves were dry enough. Her smile shifted, going from pure mirth to something like affection. It was a look she’d given him so many times before but one he’d never given proper context to.

“What’s with that look?” he teased as he settled down.

“That’s what I love about you,” she responded in kind to his admission earlier, leaning her head towards him, her smile getting softer by the moment. “I always have fun when we’re together.”

Her face drew closer, and Lance didn’t realize it was partly his own doing until their faces were too close to not kiss.

So they did. His lips traveled until they met hers. She pushed up, and he pushed down in equal measure. Lance savored the taste of the alien fruit that still lingered from their previous meal. His lips wormed around hers, exploring every crevice. Pidge paused over his lower lip. The way she nibbled and licked on it excited him more than he could afford in the middle of a battle zone.

“Guys?” Hunk’s voice cracked.

Pidge pulled back with a snort. “I think we broke Hunk.”

“We gave the pirates what they wanted.” Lance shrugged with a smile.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Think Bront is watching? Want to break him too?”

With her eyebrows raised suggestively enough, Lance found he couldn’t say no.

So in the middle of the battlefield, filled with scraps of what were once armored vehicles and weapons, in front of their friends and the pirate leader who was so pleased to egg them on:

They kissed.

[andessence]

reasons why fleur is Definitely A Lesbian:

when fleur talks about love for phoebus, it’s always “words of love” and “promises of love” devoid of physicality. 

the only time she talks about physical intimacy with phoebus are the following lines: “quand il me serre contre lui / je voudrais fuir mais je ne puis” (in english: “when he holds me against him i want to flee but i cannot”) and if that sounds like someone who wants intimacy with the person they’re talking about then i’ll sell you the brooklyn bridge tomorrow

the song from which those lines come, “beau comme le soleil,” also starts her verse off reaffirming her love for phoebus with assertions of his beauty and his status. the only thing she says about his personality or demeanor is that he is “un voyou,” translated as a “thug” or a “rascal.” every other point she makes about him is about the appeal of his position and objective suitability for marriage.

honestly that whole song reeks of compulsory heterosexuality

in connection with the earlier point on a lack of talking about intimacy, there’s also a notable lack of any displays of intimacy. the only time they come close to passing hand holding is at about 15:30 into the show when he moves to cup her cheeks and kiss her but notice right when that camera changes angles that she’s pulling away and steps totally out of his touch.

we don’t even need to dig into subtext to know that this “loving marriage” is a transaction to fleur. the first words we hear out of her mouth, spoken to phoebus, are: “mes quatorze printemps / sont à toi / ce collier de diamants / est pour moi” (in english: my fourteen springs are yours. this diamond necklace is for me”). we KNOW this is a matter of transaction from the way she sets up the first lines of their love song.

during “belle,” just after phoebus’s verse, fleur is attacked by two men in the background of the scene, and phoebus swoops in to protect her. she is meek and docile here, apparently feeling that she has no way to protect herself. she literally just stands there, looking shaken, and letting it happen. she feels powerless, and having a man like phoebus protect her, a man who is meant to be an honorable soldier and therefore with whom she should be safe, is a great comfort. phoebus represents physical security as well as financial and status-based security.

and what does fleur ask from phoebus in return for his protection? don’t lie, and be faithful. she doesn’t demand more wealth (she has that already); she doesn’t demand adventure or sexual excitement (it frightens her); she asks that phoebus honor the OBLIGATION of being in love, because that’s how she understands love. and that’s how she understands love because that’s the only way she’s felt love for phoebus. love is a matter of promises and loyalty, not of passion, as, again, she’s never felt lust in the way he does. she doesn’t know what it is to lust.

“but wait,” you say, “that’s a real strong statement to make — that she’s never felt lust.” and you’re right. and i’m making it based on her own words. in “la monture” a heartbroken, enraged fleur begs phoebus “apprends-moi l’art de la luxure” (in english: “teach me the art of lust”) and crudely taunts “délivre-moi de ma ceinture / viens en moi petite ordure” (in english: free me from my belt [presumably of chastity]. come inside me, you little swine”). even the request for him to evidence want for her is made with such absolute revulsion that it renders the demand an insult. she wants to understand what he felt for esmeralda but cannot even grasp it. it all seems filthy and disgusting to her.

it’s also telling that at the end of all disparate thoughts in “la monture” fleur returns to esmeralda, not to her fiancé. she promises she can love him when esmeralda is dead, and not before then. sort of like how other male characters who love esmeralda talk about her.... sort of like... how their awakened lust for her that they can’t handle is tearing them apart and the only solution is to kill her because they can’t handle what it means for them..... hmmm

and that gets to the most essential point: it is totally 100% in line with the themes and intentions of the play to have fleur be sexually awakened by esmeralda because the whole story is about the very fact that absolutely EVERYONE is in love with her and wrecking themselves over it. i’m honestly amazed that people haven’t accepted this addition of fleur’s obsession being sexual en masse because it fits so seamlessly in with the other 4 people pining after esmeralda.

TL;DR: lots of language suggests zero sexual feelings for phoebus and a repulsion for heterosexual desire. having fleur be a lesbian and in love with esmeralda is thematically consistent with the musical’s insistence that everyone has some unknown desire awakened in them by esmeralda. it’s what victor hugo would have wanted.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Write for 365: Day 220

Pacific Rim AU Part Thirty A

It didn't matter how many times he got dropped from a plane, the impact still caused him to get jostled and bumped around. Getting dropped in water always ended up being the worst because there was no telling what the surface underneath them looked like. There could be a huge dip or an edge that led to an abyss, but they had no way of knowing until they were already dropped. Luckily, they never found themself in a dangerous situation, and this landing was no exception.

The seafloor slightly gave way under their heavy suit, but that ended up being the extent of it. They waited patiently for the other Jaegers to land, then began the long walk to the passage between them and the Kaiju. While he thought the comms would be full of chatter, they were strangely silent as they walked, not even Dick filled the space with his jokes and casual conversation. He hated the tension between them all and had no idea how to keep his anxiety from rising.

"We're almost there. Focus on the mission."

"When did you become the level headed one?"

"No idea." After they boosted over a crack in the seafloor, Jason sent him a ridiculous look he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at him. "Does it make me more or less attractive? Be honest. Communication is key."

"This is a serious mission."

"That means you're obligated to answer my obviously serious question seriously."

"I don't think that's at all what that means."

A frustrated sigh filled his helmet that could only be one person, which meant Jason hadn't changed their comms to personal. "Must you have inappropriate conversations on this line? It is disgusting to hear your poor attempts at flirting with my brother."

"Are you attempting to defend my honor?"

"That would be a fruitless endeavor. You lost that long ago. That does not mean I enjoy hearing the two of you saying such things to each other."

"It's good to know you care, Dami. I'll be sure to embarrass you in front of Jon the next time I get a chance."

Before his brother could respond, an unfamiliar sound distorted through the water reached them. On instinct, his spine stiffened and his hands lifted to a defensive position in anticipation for the fight to come. Without having to look, he knew that Jason had moved into the exact same pose as he had. They continued to move slowly forward with their eyes glued to the motion screening displayed in front of them.

Each step they took without picking up a signal, put him further on edge as he waited for the ambush. The feeling of being watch slowly built up, until a tiny red dot appeared on their scanner much closer than it should have. Something heavy slammed into their side hard enough to send them crashing to the seafloor. They landed hard enough they both got jostled in their place, but it wasn't able to keep them down.

As the Kaiju went to clamp its jaws around their arm, they triggered the boosters on their legs to send them sliding away from it. It let out a furious shriek in response to their sliding away, then began to claw its way toward them. Before it could reach them, they returned to their feet with the bo staff ready to deflect the next attack. On a dime, it twisted its body the opposite direction to trick them into making a wrong move, but they held their ground.

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[italicwatches]

Sword Art Online Alternative: Gun Gale Online - Episode 09

Right, at this point I know I’m gonna finish this series on Tumblr. Beyond that…Fuck, I don’t know. Look, it’s anime. Sword Art Online Alternative: Gun Gale Online, episode 09. Here we GO!

-PREVIOUSLY ON GGO, a bunch of teams decided to hook together to try and take down M and Pito.

-PRESENTLY ON GGO, it’s all coming together. Twenty nine versus six. Pito’s thrilled, calling for an ambush and a bloodbath. M, lay out the plan for the nice men.

-Opening!

-The leaders are all in a group, watching the map as they call in to their various teams…They’ve come up on a waterfall with a cave behind it, where team PM4 seems to have hidden out, and thus begins a barrage of gunfire on the place!

-Episode 09! “Ten-Minute Massacre”

-But when it’s all over…Only M is behind the waterfall, and with just some glancing blows that got through his shield. So as they start moving in, he flings a pair of grenades to the mouth of the cave, drawing all attention on him! But while that happens, the generics work in from behind to clear out the long-range support, and that leaves Pito to dive in personally into the thick…

-Stealing a man’s gun to dive in full force, using just martial arts and stolen guns to fuck up everyone around her! And it’s working, as she blows a man’s head the fuck off his body with his own shotgun, chewing through the whole mess until there’s just two terrified bastards left…

-And Pito just watches them, as they watch her. Waiting to see if one of them’s willing to try and draw on her, as they both desperately try to survive…Until M tells her to finish it, and so she decides to just dig some extra pain in on them. It’s a shame, because these two men at least have some honor and dignity to them.

-While they’re still alive, M tries to tell them they should tell the leaders to resign with dignity, but Pito doesn’t want that! She wants to kill them painfully! Let her kill them painfully, M! And then she’s gone, but not before tossing a grenade to finally kill them off…

-As the team leaders realize what happened…And then realize they’re getting blasted! Pito got herself a .50 cal, and she’s splitting their fucking torsos open! The last guy manages to…Resign in the wake of it, his body collapsing. Back in the bar, everyone’s just watching in sheer terror…

-As they realize what she’s using. Specifically, it’s an M107A1…There’s only been a single confirmed drop of that gun on the entire Japanese server. She’s using a truly one-of-a-kind gun, and using it to destroy anyone around her. At this point, everyone’s fully convinced her team’s going to win…

-But of course, there’s a few other major challengers. Like LLENN, who’s working her way through the grass filled savannah of the Dome. Careful, you might get eaten. So the problem is, there’s three other teams inside this Dome, and SHINC and Memento Mori are near the Dome too…They’ve got to cut through stealthy like.

-And that’s when they start hearing gunfire. It’s distant, and automatic but LLENN can’t see Bullet Lines…So they’re fighting each other, right?

-…No. It doesn’t make sense for that. ALL the gunfire is coming from the same place. A gunfight would have multiple directions if it lasted long enough to be more than one or two exchanges. It’s a trap. They’re trying to cast a net and catch them in it. So, the girls have to keep stealthily moving, using their Bullet Lines to cast straight paths to follow…

-When LLENN spots one of the teams coming in to investigate, quickly doing the math and calling coordinates down to Fukaziroh! She gets spotted just in time for a grenade to come in, and with stealth abandoned, it’s in hard! In a flash, four men are dead, LLENN’s down a mag, and they’ve got to figure out a plan! Fukaziroh, get here fast!

-She perks her head up to start moving…And immediately has half a dozen Lines trained on her head! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

-LLENN can only hear Fukaziroh’s panic and despair in the comms…Nope, fuck that shit. Fuka, time for “That”! LLENN pops out the one silencer she elected to bring into the field, screwing it on, and flings her heavy cloak aside! VERTICAL DUMP, NOW! Fukaziroh slams six signal grenades overhead at all angles, filling the field with bright pink smoke!

-The men start realizing, far too late, that the Pink Devil is coming for them! LLENN moves fast, leaning solely on hearing to catch the confused men and blast them apart! This was supposed to be for Pito. This was how she was going to get the drop on her rival. But now she’s forced to use it here just to survive…Fuck all of you, you’re gonna DIE!

-One poor bastard gets caught in the thick, trying to give orders, and then LLENN has her barrel right to his cheek. Tell your men you took her down. Now. And if he refs—

-BANG

-Fine. They do this the hard way. She starts moving, hunting Bullet Lines down at full speed while the smoke still holds…Hold your remaining grenades, Fuka! They’re gonna need them, she can finish clearing this up!

-By the time visibility returns, the field is awash in Dead signs, and LLENN is pissed over the comms that she’s down to 500 rounds. Fukaziroh quietly decides she will never, ever piss Karen off ever again, as she hears LLENN immediately blast some fucker into swiss cheese—

-One of the last men, panicking, ends up tripping right over Fukaziroh! He’s unarmed, panicking, terrified, and Fukaziroh’s close enough to use her sidearm.

-She’s also terrible enough with it to magdump and he’s still alive. …Are you seriously that bad at using handguns? She is, however, pretty good at beaning him in the head with the empty pistol, and then battering his skull in with his machine gun!

-Finally, the girls can count flags, and seventeen…Wait, that pile of corpses is shy a flag! Up, now. Let’s be reasonable. Resign, let her save the ammo and yourself the pain.

-The one who was playing dead agrees, but would like to chat a bit first…Seems they’re a big fan of the cute strong type. Uh huh. Sure. Open those pouches on your chest. Yes, yes, of coPISTOL

-BANG

-And that’s your hand gone. Now open the fucking pouches. She can check your corpse just fine, you know! And out comes…LLENN knew it! Those long style pouches are holding P90 compatible mags!

-You’re going to drop your entire inventory.

-NOW.

-Or she’ll make this hurt. And make it slow. Fuka, get ready to grab everything. You DO know this is being broadcast, right? Are you seriously going to be so uncouth on a live broad—

-Are you done babbling or not?

-Then…How about a kiss of appreciation? Fukaziroh is increasingly disgusted with everyone in this game, while LLENN is, at this point, just wanting those mags. But fine, take them all out first! So, the magazines hit the ground, and oh, what an amount…

-LLENN made an agreement, though, and reluctantly makes that quick peck. And it turns out this figure is a bisexual woman who would like to be very good friends with the girls here, which is…I mean…Even acknowledging bisexual people exist is a kind of progress?

-So LLENN goes to get the mags, while Clarence here is about to resign…When she sees Bullet Lines, and tackles LLENN to the ground! GET DOWN!

-The first barrage comes in, as she throws LLENN into the grass before dying herself…Forcing LLENN and Fukaziroh to escape! They’re being tracked by Memento Mori now! This is FUCKING BAD.

-Credits!

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh? We’ll have to see what LLENN can pull together next time, in episode TEN of SAO Alt: GGO! Wait for it!

[sassysnowperson]

Hi, I just wanted to say that I read your fanfic 'I Couldn't Say' and I loved it! I do have a question tho, do you Draven actually mourned Merrick and of so, how? But seriously, I love your fanfic and Merrick/Draven, and your headcanons for them

Oh, Anon. Thank you so much for letting me know. And, you know what? I do have some thoughts on the matter. Read on AO3.

Davits Draven didn’t mourn at the wake. He tried. For Merrick’s sake, he tried.

He tried to ignore the glares and mutters as he walked in. The animated story about some regulation Merrick had utterly failed at enforcing petered out as Draven put the bottle of alcohol he had brought down with the rest.

“Why are you even here?” Blue Eight asked, spite and grief filling his voice to equal measure. “You hated the guy.”

Draven kept his face impassive. “Antoc Merrick was a skilled pilot and a fine officer. The Rebellion is poorer for his loss. He deserves to be remembered.”

The lines around Bleu Eight’s jaw set with disgust. “Could have said that while he was alive.”

Draven slipped out shortly after. From the hallway he heard the sounds of laughter, of the wake picking back up again.

(Rest under the readmore) 

Draven placed the four reports next to each other, eyes flicking from one to another in some futile hope that they would reveal Princess Organa’s location, where the bloody Death Star plans had gotten to. It was his officer that had gone rogue, his job to pull solutions from the wreckage.

His job to make sure Andor’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

Andor’s sacrifice and...others.

His door slid open, and Draven looked up, irritation at being disturbed radiating out of him. That faded when he saw the gaunt lines of exhaustion on Colonel Bandwin Cor’s face. Cor was one of the few people who may have had a worse time of things in the past few days. As the head of Starfighter Logistics and Merrick’s right hand man (‘Former,’ Draven thought before his mind skittered away), Cor had been left with a fine mess to wrangle.

“Colonal.”

“General.” Cor’s nod was brief. “I have some business with you.”

“Don’t worry.” Draven shoved some of his thinning blond hair off of his forehead. “I’ll not be bothering your pilots further.”

Cor gave a soft grunt. “I knew Merrick. Knew his habits.” Cor approached Draven’s desk. “You two were circumspect, but not that secretive.”

Draven’s stomach churned, bile rose in his throat. He fought it down, arched an eyebrow as he considered Cor.

Cor laid a small datastick on the desk. “From the General,” Cor said. Then, he produced a medium-sized bottle of Corellian Brandy. “From me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Grief slammed against the cage of his ribs, and Draven refused to let it out. He picked up the datastick. “What—” he stopped himself, froze when he heard the sharp crack to his voice. He waited for the emotion to blunt before trying again, “What is this?”

Cor said, gently, “I don’t know. I just had instructions to deliver it...in the event. To you.”

Draven’s thumb traced the outside of the stick. “Thank you,” he said, the edge of sandpaper back in his voice.

“Of course.” Cor turned to leave. He paused, his back to Merrick. After a moment he said, “He was a better man. Because of you.”

“I doubt that.” Draven stared down at the datastick.

“I don’t.” Cor took another step toward the door, stopped, then said, “And neither did he.”

With that, Cor left, leaving Draven alone with the bottle and the datastick.

Draven might have said he wasn’t certain why his hand was shaking when he plugged the datastick into his holoprojector, but that would be a lie. A flickering blue holo sprang up, and there was Merrick, rumpled hair and a face full of laugh lines, staring back at Draven.

“Hey, Dav,” the holo said, and Draven lurched forward, jabbed it off, let the picture fade away.

He didn’t drink himself into oblivion, mourning Merrick with the bottle of Corellian Brandy. For his own sake, he didn’t.

He almost mourned Merrick as the Death Star bore down on Yavin and there was nothing left to do but watch. But he didn’t. He tucked the datastick in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around it, letting some of Merrick’s relentless optimism seep into his palm as a some backwater wonder blew up the Emperor's weapon.

Then he sat down and figured out how to get the Rebellion off of Yavin, because all the celebration in the world didn’t change the fact that the Empire knew where they were.

He didn’t mourn as they left Yavin, left Home One, left Vrogas Vas, left endless bases and pit stops trying to stay one step ahead of the Empire. He was too busy trying to coordinate the information the Rebel Alliance needed. Too busy trying to build on the momentum from the Death Star’s destruction.

There was a moment, on Hoth, when he thought he’d mourn. General Airen Cracken, his wayward superior, showed up with a flourish and a string of Outer-Rim contacts. Draven ceded power to Cracken as efficiently as he could and felt a little bit of the responsibility slide from his shoulders. Cracken patted Draven’s back, told him good job, and gave him forty-eight hours off.

Draven retreated to his room, stared at the ceiling for five minutes before the weight of Merrick’s memory pressing in was too much. He pulled the bottle out of his go-bag, where it lived in his left shoe, next to his spare uniform and toiletries; life that could be grabbed in a hurry when everything else was lost. It was perhaps frivolous, to keep something so personal in a bag of essentials, but Draven wasn’t willing to let it go. The datastick wasn’t in his go-bag. It hung on a cord around his neck, nestled next to his heart.

Draven very carefully didn’t think about the sentimental implications of that. It was the best way to keep something safe with his constantly-mobile life. Now, his first moment of quiet in years, he took the cord off of his neck, sat down next to the holoprojector, bottle in hand.

His comm chimed. Cracken’s voice echoed through it, “I’m sorry, General, but one of your operatives in Coyerti is checking in, and I need you to coordinate.”

“Of course. Be right there.” The unopened bottle went back to his bag, the cord back around his neck, and the responsibility back on his shoulders.

Draven didn’t mourn with the slide of sweat-drenched skin, with skin under his teeth and salt on his tongue. He didn’t mourn with hair tangled through his fingers, with limbs wrapped around his own.

That had never been the most important part of who Merrick was to him, anyway.

Luke Skywalker, lit by some inner passion, stalked his way into Draven’s office, telling him off for a call that had burned an agent. “We have to be better than them!” Luke said, golden face screwed up with anger, “Otherwise what’s the point!”

“The point is that you don’t send good credits after bad. Agent Lew understood that.”

“I could have gotten them out!” Luke said, full of bravado and sacrifice.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Draven snapped, harsher than he had intended to.

Luke made an inarticulate noise of frustration and stormed out of the office again. Draven pressed his palm against where the datastick hung under his shirt and nearly mourned.

“Sir, I can get there in time.” There was heartbreak in his agent’s voice. “Please, Sir, I just need to take a speeder.”

“It’s too big of a risk,” Draven said, long habit making the words come easily. “Pull back.”

“Sir, they’re children.”

Draven almost snapped at him for insubordination. Draven almost tore him to shreds for daring to countermind orders.

“Securing the data is your priority. After that—I’ll authorize the speeder use.”

“Sir.” The agent sounded breathless. “Yes, Sir. I’ll...it’s been an honor.”

“May the Force be with you.” Draven managed to get out, grateful there wasn’t anyone else on the comm line.

As the line cut off, Draven ran his fingers under his collar, finding the cord around his neck.

Endor happened, the Emperor was neatly dead, and while some danced in the firelight Draven studied the hierarchy of Imperial Command. No Empire died easily.

Jakku happened, it was a mess, but for the first time Draven could believe that the Empire had been struck a fatal blow.

Chandrila happened, the Galactic Concordance was signed, and it was over.

Supposedly. In the shadows Draven lived the war was never really going to be over. Draven shook his head at the idealists shooting off fireworks, believing that signatures and handshakes would actually make a difference.

The datastick around his chest suddenly felt very heavy.

Draven pulled out his go-bag. The bottle was still there, tucked into his left shoe. He pulled it out, set it on the low table of the living room as celebration flickered outside his window. Draven found a holoprojector and a cup, set them on either side of the bottle, and sat down heavy on the couch.

Hands steady, he opened the bottle and poured himself a glass. He took a sip, aromatic and excellent, only improved with age. Draven breathed in and out, slowly through his nose, and reached for the cord around his neck. With a shaking hand, he plugged the datastick in.

Unchanged by years, the impish face of General Antoc Merrick sprang into being. “Hey Dav,” the figure said.

Draven’s hand spasmed around his cup. This time, he let the holo play.

Merrick’s flickering blue figure swallowed, seeming to gather his thoughts, "So, Cor is giving this to you in case I die and you don't. Which we both know is the likely outcome. I’m not hoping for it, mind you…” Merrick trailed off, shaking his head slightly as he came back to himself. “Don't worry. This isn't a love confession or anything like that."

Merrick looked off to the side, something crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Kriff, could you imagine. That'd be terrible. Wouldn't do that to you. No, I'll say something like that in person or not at all."

The figure of Merrick went slightly blurry until Draven blinked, wet tracks down his cheeks.

“Anyway, we have our ups and downs. I just...felt the need to have this out there. In case we ended—I ended—on one of those downs.” Merrick chewed at his lip, moustache twitching the way it always did when he was lost in thought. “I’ve never liked your methods.” Merrick said, looking straight at the holorecorder. “You’ve driven me crazy from the start.”

Draven huffed a wet laugh, taking a sip of the brandy.

“But, Dav, I’ve never doubted the world you’re trying to build. I’ve never doubted that we’re trying to build the same world. If I don’t make it, and you do, I think you should know that. I trust you with the future. I think it’s in good hands, even if I’m not helping with the building anymore.”

Draven’s eyes closed in a hard blink, and he forced them open again, not wanting to miss a moment.

“As much as I’ve hated your approach...I know it’s needed. You’ve made me a better soldier, you know. Able to make the hard calls. To see the realities of the situation.” Merrick sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “This is going to be a hard war, and we’re going to need all our skills. Including yours.”

Merrick looked back up, something pleading on his face. “But, Dav, we can’t sink to their level. We can’t sink to their mindset. I know you’ll never admit it, but I made you a better person. Reminded you that not everyone sees the world as a ledger.”

In the privacy of his empty room, Draven felt the truth slip free, “You did.”

Merrick’s figure held his palm up, quiet entreaty. “Don’t forget that, please. Remember it.”

The palm dropped, and Merrick straightened, aura of command surrounding him. “Don’t give up the fight. Don’t let them win. Remember the future we’re fighting for.”

Merrick swallowed, going silent, and Draven felt a sob shake through his chest as Merrick reached for the holorecorder. His hand stopped, and he looked at the camera again, eyes somehow finding Draven’s across the years. The command dropped off of his voice, and all that was left was Antoc, slight smile and a knowing gaze as he said, “You once said you wouldn’t mourn me. But please, remember me.”

The figure cut off, and Draven was left staring at a holoprojector on a table. One choking sob made its way out of his chest. Then another and another. He set down the glass of brandy, worried he’d spill it in his shaking as he sobbed, all grief and fury, staring at the place where Merrick used to be.

As his weeping grew less violent, the glitter of an explosion outside his window caught his eye. He looked over, breath shaking, and he heard the strains of celebration going on outside his door.

Draven unplugged the datastick, tucked it back over his head and under his shirt. He walked out of his room, out of the building, and into the streets teeming with joy. He turned his tear-stained face toward the light, and he remembered. He celebrated. He mourned.

Thanks to @aeshna-uk for chat-blocking the plot with me this morning, and to @tobermoriansass and @chamerionwrites for inspiring the fic in the first place. 

[avidbeader]

Voltron fanfic: “Scattered” Chapter 18

Season 2 AU. No ships, K+ to T rating. Begin at the beginning here. 

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 Matt ran into the room that Allura had indicated and nearly fell over as he stumbled down the unexpected stairs. The center of the viewing gallery with its long chaise-like seats and sofas was sunken. Shiro spun around at the unexpected noise and a sudden laugh bubbled up. “Oh, good grief, Matt. You still can’t walk in a straight line, can you?”

 Matt steadied himself and shook his head. “You know me, hands of silk, feet of banana peels.”

 That made them both laugh. It had been a running joke at the Garrison, how Cadet Holt could be so dexterous with measuring chemicals and assembling tiny bits of tech, yet have the gait of a drunken giraffe. It was one of the reasons Shiro had faked his bloodlust and taken his friend down when they were faced with a match against Myzax. He knew Matt would not have survived.

“What did you need?”

 “You. Mom says your parents are asking for you.”

 “My parents? They think I’m dead.”

 “Nope. As soon as we told her that everyone was all right, Mom started getting in touch with the other families. She said your dad texted her, because Lance and Hunk are talking to their folks but they haven’t heard from you.”

 “I…I…I was going to stay dead. I can’t come back yet and I can’t promise that I’ll survive the war we’re in. I didn’t want to put them through that pain again.”

 “Come on, Shiro! Don’t be a martyr! They’ve known ever since you chose space flight as your career that you could be killed. Yes, they thought you were dead and yes, I’m sure it hurt. But now they get you back, even if it’s only for a while. Were you seriously going to waste that chance? Come on, I’ll help you put through the call.”

 As they left the gallery, Shiro steered Matt away from the bridge and toward the meeting room Allura had mentioned. “This way. I’d like a bit of privacy for this.”

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Allura moved to her control station and quietly set an alert to tell her when the cycle for Keith’s cryo-pod was fifteen doboshes from ending. She listened to the babble of various conversations around her, noting something a little odd. She paid closer attention and heard how Lance and Hunk’s voices had shifted just a little in tone and rhythm, and the words seemed to flow differently. She thought she might have heard Lance do this before, mainly when he got so frustrated with Keith that he was just spouting off what passed for profanity on their world.

Coran came up to her, a crease in between his brows. “Well, there’s yet another mess to clean up. This Galaxy Garrison told everyone that the Paladins were killed in a training accident instead of last seen flying the Blue Lion through a wormhole. I expect we’ll be needed to make at least one large public appearance to show that they are all alive and healthy.”

Allura blew out a breath in frustration. She was just done with these people. Once she had seized upon these five humans because they were all the Alteans had if they were going to form Voltron. Now she realized that fate had possibly given her the five (seven, if you counted the Holts) wisest and most sensible humans on the planet.

She heard shrieks and looked up. She could see a pair of presumably female humans on Lance’s screen, jabbering excitedly with him in that slightly odd cadence. And then she realized Pidge, who was standing behind him, had a look of fierce concentration on her face.

Curious, Allura moved toward them. Pidge saw her coming and met her halfway. “Did you need something, Allura?”

“I just wondered why you were listening so intently to Lance’s conversation. They’re mostly screaming over seeing one another and trading bits of news about friends.”

“How can you—they’re speaking in Spanish. How can you understand them? Although,” Pidge broke off and suddenly looked very disgusted with herself. “How the heck can we understand each other? I can’t believe I never stopped to think about it before, but we—the Paladins—have been speaking English the entire time. Oh, Lance sometimes goes off in Spanish, mainly when he’s irritated, and I’ve heard Hunk sing to himself in Samoan when he’s cooking. Shiro and Keith talk to each other in Japanese once in a while. But you two sound like English to us.”

Allura stared at Pidge. She had gotten lost about halfway through. “I…I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you saying that the translators aren’t working?”

“Translators? Is that what it is?”

“Yes, we have quite advanced technology to allow us to speak to other civilizations. It involves just a few tweaks to the language centers of our brains and it was the custom to have the process done a few months after birth. And of course the Castle does it for any new aliens who enter since it’s quite painless.”

“Wait, what? The Castle did something to our brains? When? Why didn’t you ask us first?”

“It…it’s part of the process in the automated identity scans.”

Pidge’s affronted expression faded and grew thoughtful. “I remember. That happened right after we set foot in the Castle the first time. But I can still hear the different languages when the guys use them.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean by different languages? You’re all from the same planet.”

“Yeah, but there’s over five thousand different languages used. It’s standard at the Garrison that you know at least two languages going in and three when you graduate. I speak English and Norwegian—Dad’s family came from Norway—and I was studying German at the Garrison and wanted to take a stab at Hindi at some point.”

Allura was still trying to internalize the concept. Five thousand languages on one planet? How in all the stars in the sky could they possibly communicate?

As she attempted to pull her thoughts together, Pidge was still talking. “Maybe there’s a difference in our brain structure—after all, sometimes you all use a word that just doesn’t translate, like your time terms or ‘quiznak’. Or maybe we still hear our languages because we know they exist and that’s enough to defeat the translator…which I kind of hope isn’t the case, because if I suddenly started hearing you speak nothing but Altean I’d be in big trouble…”

Pidge seemed to realize that Allura was struggling and trailed off. She tuned back in to Lance and listened for a moment, then looked back at Allura. “So, you really are hearing Lance go on like normal?”

“Not quite like normal. I still understand everything he says, but I’m hearing something different in his voice.”

“Interesting. How do I sound to you right now?”

Allura tilted her head. “Yes, like that. What are you doing?”

“I’m speaking in Norwegian right now. And you can tell a difference even though it still all sounds Altean to you?”

Allura nodded.

“So how does the reverse work? You hear everything in Altean, but someone who hasn’t been in the Castle yet talks to you? Do they hear you in their language?”

“I…I don’t know how it works. It just does. Coran might know more about it. His grandfather was one of the people who helped design and build the Castle.”

“Okay, I have got to research this. Because if there’s a way for the five of us or seven of us to have a second language in common, one that the translators can’t translate, we’d have our own secret code if we needed it!” She started laughing. “Can you imagine us facing off someone like Sendek again and shouting ‘skjerp deg’ at him?”

“Shouting what?”

Pidge stared at her befuddled expression and hooted in glee. “It didn’t translate! Yes! Even if the translator goes both ways we can find words in our languages and use them as codes! I need to make a list! Thanks, Allura!”

And with that, Pidge raced out of the command center, leaving Allura feeling very, very lost.

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Shiro brought up the comm panel in the meeting room and Matt quickly pulled up the necessary screen. “Email or number?”

Shiro rattled off his mother’s number, slightly amazed that he remembered, and Matt entered it. As the screen showed a connection being attempted, Matt gave Shiro’s shoulder a squeeze and retreated to the hallway.

The screen blinked into life, showing him a pair of faces. His breath caught in his throat for a moment. When did his mother’s hair turn so gray? When did his father’s face get so lined?

“Kaa-chan? Tou-chan?”

They also seemed stunned to look at him, and Shiro immediately realized why. If they looked so much older in less than two years, what must he look like to them? The shock of white hair falling over his forehead, the scar slashed across his face, the silver arm… If he, with months to adjust to his changes, still did a double-take when he saw his reflection, how much harder was it for them?

“Takashi? Is it really you?” His mother reached up and touched her screen, her eyes drinking in the sight of him.

He raised his flesh hand to meet hers, but didn’t touch the panel as it would break the connection. “Yes, kaa-chan. It’s really me.”

“We are so grateful to know you’re alive, Takashi. We missed you so much.”

“I…I missed you, too. I missed you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t try to get in touch with you before—”

“We do not blame you, son!” His father broke in. “We blame the Garrison for not listening to you! You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But, you don’t know what happened! You don’t know any of it!”

His father’s expression hardened. “Did you cause those aliens to take you and your crew?”

“No, of course not!”

“Did you deliberately lead those cadets into danger?”

“No! But—”

“Have you acted in any way less than your honor demands?”

Shiro recognized his father’s tactic. Growing up, he would pose question after question, usually in order to ruthlessly unravel Shiro’s attempts to get out of trouble or push him to examine a problem from a new angle.

In spite of himself, it was working again.

“No, tou-chan.”

“Then you will stop apologizing and tell us the good parts version.”

Shiro smiled in spite of himself at his father’s reference to a favorite book. His thoughts leaped from his father reading the book to him…to him reading it to Keith during the all-too-short time that Keith was fostered with them.

“I found Keith. Or, more accurately, he found me.”

His mother brought both hands to her mouth. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Is he there? Can we speak to him?”

“He’s…he is here, but he’s currently in the—the infirmary, and needs to stay there a while longer. It seems that the Garrison tried to learn from its mistakes with me but Earthforce interfered. They shot him up with at least three different drugs trying to force information from him.”

“That poor child! Will you bring him with you when you come? We haven’t seen him since your graduation!”

Shiro’s smile widened at that. “Yes, of course I will. I’ll need to coordinate with Pidge. She can sneak us in and out to avoid Earthforce.”

“And the media,” his father added. “There’s talk that Earthforce is finally going to issue a statement. I’m relieved that we kept our numbers private when we switched to mobile phones, although we have had to ignore several people knocking on our door.”

Shiro growled at that. The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was trying to sneak around pushy reporters, or worse, hold a press conference. His stomach twisted at the thought.

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Allura’s monitor pinged to alert her that Keith would be through with the healing pod in a few minutes. She slipped out of the command center and ran for the cryo room. Once there, she paced, her eyes never leaving the screen that showed the progress of the procedure. The second the control panel turned blue to show the completed cycle, she rushed up and deactivated the pod.

Keith moaned and staggered forward. Allura grabbed and steadied him, “Keith? It’s Allura. Can you hear me?”

“Princess?” He opened his eyes and focused on her. He straightened, gaining his balance, and she frowned slightly in puzzlement. Lance had taken several minutes to find his bearings when exiting the pod.

She focused and took his left hand, seeing the glow of Quintessence appear. It was very faint, at least. She still felt that he was carrying more than a human should, when compared to the other Paladins, but it was no longer dangerously high.

He looked at their hands and back at her. “Is everything all right?”

“I think so. How are you feeling?” She guided him to sit on the stairs leading from the floor to the pods.

“Ridiculously healthy. Do you know how long it’s been?”

“You were in the cryo chamber for less than a varga.”

“I mean, how long was I on Earth? I lost track pretty quickly.”

“Over seventy-two of your hours, if I’m converting correctly. Why?”

“If you’re right, in over four days I haven’t eaten or slept properly, was in a massive battle, and then drugged repeatedly. And yet I feel fine after a quick nap in a cryo-pod.”

“I believe that would be due to the excess Quintessence in your body. What I don’t understand is how you came to absorb so much of it at once.”

“Did Coran tell you what I found at that Galra hub?”

“No. We’ve been rather distracted trying to find all of you. Wait—Coran did say something about a facility there with a large amount of stored Quintessence?”

“Yeah. There was a massive room, lined floor to ceiling with these glass vats of a yellow substance. I was following somebody in robes and a hood. It did something to one of the vats that condensed the yellow stuff into a much smaller amount of purple liquid.

“I tried to steal some of the purple version. I had a container in my hands, but that hooded thing spotted me and took it back. I attacked and it started firing what looked like black lightning at me.” He held up his right hand. “At one point the energy backlash between my sword and its firepower ate my armor off and burned my hand so badly it was useless.”

Allura’s eyes widened as she took in his unmarked skin. He’d fought a Druid?

“A few minutes later, one of the large containers, with the bright yellow Quintessence instead of the concentrated purple stuff, broke behind me. I got soaked through with it and suddenly my hand was back to normal. And other than being kidnapped and drugged by my own people, I feel fine. What is going on?”

“What I think is going on, is we now know how Zarkon has continued to live for ten thousand years.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “My father was aware of experiments going on in certain civilizations. They tried to find a way to use Quintessence to heal people faster, then to enhance their strength. But people exposed to it more than a few times would suffer terrible symptoms of withdrawal. It was addictive.”

Keith squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Well, I’ll do my best to make sure I never fall into another vat of it. And it’s our first sign of weakness in Zarkon, if he has to have this Quintessence to live.”

<> <> <> <> <>

The news anchor took one last swig of water from her bottle behind the desk and cleared her throat before the red light on the camera lit up and signaled that she was on the air. This was a long statement and it was important to get it right. History was about to happen.

 The light went on and she looked into the camera with a serious but calm expression. Above all else, Earthforce had insisted that they do whatever it took to help prevent panic.

 “Good afternoon. This is Rachel Hayes with the latest information surrounding the day’s reports of UFO sightings and alien contact. Earthforce has given us the following statement, which I am about to read in full.

 “Earthforce wishes to address reports of an alien ship that was spotted in numerous locations of the western half of the United States. We can confirm that this ship is real and that it currently poses no threat to Earth. We repeat, there is currently no alien aggression toward the planet.

 “The ship, in the form of a blue lion, is part of a squadron called the Voltron Force. Again, they are not here to invade us. In fact, the various members in this force include five Earth citizens.

 “The chain of events as we know it begins with the Kerberos mission over a year ago. The reports of pilot error killing everyone aboard were false. The evidence instead pointed to the entire crew being taken by a hostile alien presence and our leadership at the time chose to report their deaths instead to prevent widespread panic in the general population and because we had no means to investigate further or try to rescue our people. But Doctor Samuel Holt, his son Matthew Holt, and Captain Takashi Shirogane are alive and have been freed from the aliens who abducted them.

 “The next event happened seven weeks ago. Captain Shirogane managed to escape his imprisonment and fly back to Earth in an alien spacecraft. When he crash-landed near Galaxy Garrison Headquarters, the Garrison and Earthforce followed protocol to quarantine him. However, a group of cadets from the Garrison witnessed the crash, investigated on their own, and managed to take Shirogane with them to an unknown location. Together, they discovered the presence of the blue lion ship deep in the desert. Our own investigations of the area since then show that the lion ship had been there, dormant, for thousands of years. But the group activated the ship and flew it away, leading a much larger hostile ship away at the same time. That hostile force has not returned to our solar system. There is currently no known threat to Earth.

 “Earthforce chose to report the group of cadets as deceased, as there was absolutely no trace of them once the lion ship was out of range. But we are now sharing the truth. Cadets Tsuyoshi Garrett, Pidge Gunderson, and Lance McClain are alive and have become part of this Voltron Force, along with Captain Shirogane and former Garrison cadet Keith Kogane.

 “Three days ago, Kogane crash-landed his own lion ship near Mount Rushmore. He willingly came to Galaxy Garrison to report, but an Earthforce official overreacted and treated Kogane as an enemy agent, including assaulting him. That official is facing court-martial for his actions. These are the circumstances referred to in the conversation that was accidentally broadcast over a wide range of media this morning.

 “We ask that the media and the public leave the families of the Voltron Force in peace for now as they reunite with their missing children. We will issue further information as soon as we have it. In the meantime, we encourage everyone to stay calm. There is no threat against Earth at this time.”

 The anchor drew a deep breath, relieved at getting through the statement without stumbling. “As Earthforce stated, there is no threat to our planet at this time. Everyone should remain calm and wait for further information. Please tune in this evening for full coverage. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.”

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skjerp deg

– Norwegian phrase that sort of translates to “You’re about to make a complete fool of yourself.”

kaa-chan – Japanese for “mom”

tou-chan – Japanese for “dad”

Next chapter

[sagastar-blog]

Memo to the Metaverse 1.2

Setting: OQ Coffee (Highland Park, NJ, “The United States of America,” i.e. near the Atlantic seaboard around 40 degrees northern hemisphere), Planet Earth (circa late November “2017″)

Jeff (speaking in his authentic British, but also somewhat Irish and un poco D’Australio , accent): It’s Daddy, how are you sweetie? Listen, ehm, Gaia...about the latest package I’ve just sent you. It’s a bit light, I’m sorry. But I’m doing my best here---Daddy’s not *literally* made of money, you know--I promise! I promise it will keep you...animated for a while. Love you, thanksbyetothee.

Gaia: That was great. Perfect ending. And you even managed to make eye contact with the fair game. Oooh. She’s reaching for something in her bag. What’s she got in there, Jeff! An apple? An orange?!

Jeff: Right. Well, shall I commence working on the blog now...

Gaia: Correct. You know, you don’t have to use the accent via hive mind, Daddy. But please DON’T STOP! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP DADDY! 

Jeff: A  oui. Je parle comme je peurrrrrrrrx.

Gaia: Ne me touche jamais, Oueywhatshistip....j

Jeff: Precisement, Gaia. C’est comme toujours avec toi: le psychanalyse devient la contra-transference! Bah ouai. Eh bien. Amateratsu va se coucher rapidement au jour d’wheel. Elle se fait bien marcher sans ouiseaux. Et tweet tout ca!

Amateratsu: I’m not sleeping! I don’t sleep! I never sleep! JDHGNAWOEHGWH4EGAWIRHDXGNL;FBB ;SPIJDG loook away...

Jeff: I just love antagonizing your half-brother lover Gaia, I gotta say. It’s like...I mean...

Gaia: Let it out slowly.

Jeff: Wait. That was deep. Gaia, <command> explain.

(Gaia blows the wind, causing branches to sway, twirling the convection steam coming out of the buildings adjacent the cafe)

Jeff: Wow. Sure. I just love when you make fun of the Buddha, one of our favorite versions of ourself, the retard Gautama!

Gaia: Zoroaster was such a bitch.

Jeff: Nicely plaid.

Amateratsu: FUCK! FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK! (singing) ~Nobody knows...the troubles I’ve seen...~

Jeff: What I’m trying to say is this: why must I waste my life working as a tutor at the C2 Center for Educational Brainwashing in Edison, NJ? I spent 9 hours inside of a goddamn building today (one without windows in my cubicle!), doing absolutely nothing--pretending to teach a bunch of very nice high school students how to study for the SAT. Not only do i believe that the company that pays me my paltry salary is a criminal enterprise for the way it treats its students and its teaching staff given the amount of money it charges--my accusation against C2 is something along the lines of “organized theft” and “intent to corrupt the youth”--but I am not allowed to even teach my students what they should be learning. They should hear from me at every second of the lesson, “THE SAT IS STUPID! IT’S WRONG! IT’S AT THE CORE OF OUR 21ST-CENTURY AMERICAN NATION’S IDIOCY! Because it doesn’t measure intelligence or anything of value! Because the vast majority of the people who benefit from it are already rich or otherwise privileged! YOU SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO PAY TO TAKE A COURSE FROM ME TO HELP YOU DO WELL ON THE TEST!” Or something enough like this...

    What I mean to say is, FUCK YOU, WORLD, FOR FORCING ME TO DO SOME EVIL JOB IN A WORLD IN WHICH I AM YOUR CREATOR AND ONE AND ONLY SAVIOR. How dare you treat me this way? I have a PhD from the University of Chicago, and I--

Gaia: He wants me to insult all your gods right now. Say Buddha. Say Yahweh. Say Allah. Who the fuck was the Buddha? I’m the lesser deity here. A tiny turd of a pebble on the infinite shores of the sandy harbour you call time...

Amateratsu: ”THE GLEAMING jewel of this particular solar system is GAIA.”

Jeff: Right, this particular nothing solar system that I have honored with my presence. This aspect of self-love did not come from me: it’s from Gaia and my other “good” kids, namely the stars in the sky. (Yes, of course they’re alive, duh.) 

Amateratsu: !hud. Ozaka! Horyuji!

Jeff: You live on the planet Earth and you behave as if it’s nothing, something you buy at an IKEA and can simply toss away like a used piece of nosetissue. You’re a bunch of despicable nihilists. You trash your home for your children to clean up and don’t bat an eyelash as you drive them around in polluting cars, vehicles that are KILLING US ALL by destroying the atmosphere. Do I speak falsely? Do I say anything at all controversial? No. I’m just a pissed off environmentalist whose “higher power” is Nature. If you don’t like me or want to respect me, at least understand my politics. I believe human beings are erroneous when they claim they’re at the top of the food chain. This is an illusion. You have it all upside down: it’s the microbes and the little tiny things in the sea that are at the “top.” I would be polite about all this if you’d allow me some human dignity.

Amateratsu: Let me at them.

Gaia and Jeff: Wait a second. Just one more second. They’ve already given countless among them skin cancer via radiation. Do they not already realize that? Oh, wait. They need another few years for us to be proven right about this....Wait until the year 2040 and ask Jeff then about the tragic effects of the harmful things you do to our atmosphere on Earth TODAY. Ask me then what to do about the millions of people worldwide--many if not most of them lightskinned!--who will be suffering from easily preventable sun-related disorders in 20 or so years. i’ll laugh at you

Jeff: Why am I spending time “at work” in an indoor environment if all I want to do is to be outside....i.e. with Gaia? Did I do something wrong to deserve this punishment? Your world is disgusting, humanity. Clean it up. Start by giving me a decent job. If you don’t want to recognize me as “the literary character known as God, formerly or not,” then by all means, don’t. I don’t want to help you any more any way, I swear! However, you will treat me like a decent human being. You will respect my human rights you pieces of scum. I am the biological father of my son Lucius, and I haven’t been able to see him alone (i.e. without supervision) for over 3 years. And why? I have no idea. You tell me. In my divorce, it says my ex-wife is allowed not to allow me to see him without a supervisor. I tell her that i accept any advisor she chooses...except, you see, I’m kind of broke at the moment! (Please don’t forget: I left my tenure-track academic job for her, of course, in 2013, which allowed her to dispose of me like trash. I have not had a full-time teaching job (save for one year in Arizona in 2016/17) since leaving Trinity in 2013. Do you think there’s a connection? I’m a father who’s being kept from his son...unlawfully and certainly unethically. Have I ever committed a crime? I have not. I just happen to have become Enlightened--what I call Illuminated--in April 2014 in this very cafe. After that, people started being mean to me. I guess you people just don’t like Jeff, whatever it is he is...

Trust me. I’m more than you can imagine, you pieces of human filth--my family! Hi [names redacted: you know exactly who you are...everyone besides Lucius!].  You are hereby officially named The Worst Forms of Life Anywhere EVER! by me, Just Jeff, the Creator/Destroyer figure you used to call “God.” And I don’t like you any more. The rest of humanity, I never liked you much in the first place. Seriously. Ask anyone who’s ever known me how I feel about the organism called “man.” I like certain individuals, but as a species I find you absolutely awful. 

Are you going to do something to fix this little scenario?

Ummmmm. Hello?

Gaia: Well, that’s it for this Memo to the Metaverse! Thanks for reading. Things are awful AWFUL AWFUL and have never been worse--and that’s 4.6 billion years of history, folks--here on Earth. Please, if you’re listening out there, SEND HELP soon. And make sure they’re ready to fight. I’m not sure Jeff wants to let them die the nice way.

Amateratsu: What time is it? MUAWWWW HAHAHAAHA.

Moon: Hi. Look at me. Please. Look at me. Jeff. Don’t look at them. Look at me.