Acts of Contrition (18/20)
The corridor is bathed in light and heat. Jaejoong tastes bile in his mouth, but he's got more pressing things to worry about. Like the fact that he can't breathe.
It feels like a boot is pressing down on his chest, cutting off his air supply. His diaphragm protests the way it's been constricted, his eyes mouth too, drawing horrible, shaky gasps that do nothing but increase the pounding in his head, in his ears. He hears the dull throbbing of his pulse, the scrape of a bootheel on the ground and then someone is pulling his shoulder back, rolling his face towards the ceiling.
"Are... you... okay..." He hears the words, but he can't recognize the voice. Bloodied fingers reach out to touch his face.
Yoochun.
Yoochun is there.
Jaejoong blacks out.
***
A wave of sickness washes over him as he watches the smaller man crumple to the floor and for a single, heart-stopping moment, he thinks they've killed him. Yoochun lets out a cry that is pure anguish, turning Changmin's blood cold as he fires with deadly accuracy, striking Gun Il once, twice, three times, until the man's body is a smoking ruin on the floor.
Changmin goes for the bastard's gun, Yoochun falling to his knees beside Jaejoong, whispering frantically as he check the man's pulse. Not a regulation plasma rifle, not with the blood and Changmin feels dizzy.
"Yunho..."
The former captain is on his feet as soon as he’s sure he won't get shot. No point in dying, not now. Not when he's come this far. His first thought is to the gun in the dead man's grip. Yoochun's is on the floor by their feet.
"Changmin, take his weapon," he orders swiftly, ignoring the flare of concern in his chest. Not the time for such trifles. Junsu has incoming visitors--if the other two aren't on their way back already. "Come on, soldier! Whoever he was, the motherfucker wasn't acting alone."
They need to take cover. They need a sit rep. And they need a plan. Fast.
Changmin does without thinking, like any good soldier, grabbing Yoochun's weapon, passing it over to Yunho, hefting Gun Il's modified rifle.
"We need to get Jaejoong out of here," he hisses, nodding towards the direction the other two men had gone. "They can surround us too easily in the corridor. Get him out and get Junsu."
Yunho nods, curtly. His back against the wall, he checks the dead man's pockets. No insignia. He's not a Guard spy. In that at least, they're lucky.
"What's our fastest way out of here? Nearest exit?" He looks to Changmin for answers, he doesn't bother addressing Yoochun. In his place, he would be weeping too. There's still a chance he might.
Footsteps echo down the hall. More than two. And by the sound of charging guns, more than two plasma rifles.
"My room," he orders, brief and to the point. "Now!"
Slinging the gun over his shoulder, Changming kneels beside Yoochun, trying to pull him of Jaejoong, to lift the other man and get him out of here. He catches a fist in the mouth, the tang of copper heavy on his tongue.
"Yoochun," he hisses, clutching at the man's collar, shaking him. "Snap the fuck out of it! We have to move him, come on!"
He trusts Yunho to watch their rear as he slides his arms under Jaejoong's, the unconscious man's head rolling lifelessly against his chest. "Get his legs. Yoochun," he hisses, voice harsh when the other man doesn't respond. "Get his fucking legs!"
It takes another few times for the words to register in Yoochun's head, but he obeys, mechanically, every movement laced with desperation. He's losing it and it's a bad time to be even more outnumbered than they are.
A flash of light and then lasers fire at them, enemy aim dangerously close. Yunho retaliates, chancing a swift prayer to the Gods on their ivory thrones up in the skies. Get them out of this and he might even start believing again.
He hits one, watches the man fall, but any satisfaction is quickly shattered as three more respond with fire. Heavily outnumbered, he retreats, follows the others into the room. They need to barricade the door, but nothing holds back laser fire. His eyes meet Changmin's.
"He'll make it." And he doesn't know which one of them he means anymore. Jaejoong? Junsu?
"Not if we don't get out of here," Changmin mutters, shoulder against the wall, rifle raised. All too aware of Yoochun bent over his lover's body. No, not body. Jaejoong. He's alive and he's going to fucking stay that way.
"We need a door."
And a transport, then a ship, to get the fuck off this hole of a planet. But a door first, while their guns are still charged.
His stomach clenches as he thinks of Junsu. They won't leave him. They won't.
"So we'll make ourselves a door," Yunho nods. A blast echoes outside. Their friends must be getting trigger happy. "Outside walls are metal," he reasons, thinking back on the plans he saw, on what Yoochun told him. "So aim for the bolts and don't stop shooting."
It's a shitty plan, but it's the best they've got. Pressure unnerves him and the odds staked against them even more.
His gun arm trained on the door in case they get company, Yunho slides over to Yoochun's side. "Yoochun, hey!" The man is unresponsive, nigh catatonic. "Are you here? There's nothing you can do for Jaejoong unless you help us get him out of here. Hey!" Fact is, he has two arms and a clear aim. Jaejoong's sidearm catches the morning light with a glimmer.
It takes a violent shove to his shoulder to bring Yoochun out of his swirling thoughts, blinking slowly, not registering the words being spoken until he's dragged off the floor, a hard slap across the face cutting of his initial attempt to fight back, to get back to Jaejoong's side. He belongs there, can't be anywhere but there--
A gun is pressed into his hands, Yunho's words coming at him as if he's in a tunnel, but he's being directed, made to shoot and he does, firing away at the side of the ship, pouring the swirling tempest inside him into this action. Needing to destroy something.
His effort combined with Changmin's is effective. Singed and contorting, the metal can't resist the heat being poured into it. And apparently, neither can the door.
Three sustained volleys of fire and the top hinge gives way with a sharp sound. It's barely audible over the barrage of sound inside the room, but it's happening too quickly. Everything, all of it is. Jaejoong hasn't stopped bleeding and Yunho can't forget they're a man down.
"Hurry it up!" he yells just as the door collapses completely.
"Get him out of here!" Changmin shouts, giving the panel a crushing hit with the butt of his rifle, until it breaks free from the craft completely. He turns to cover Yunho, sending a round of fire into the rebels.
Holstering his weapon, movements automatic and machine-like, Yoochun gathers Jaejoong into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Blood soaks his clothing, smearing his features and no, he can't think of that, can't think of it. Get him out. That's what they said, get Jaejoong out and he'll be safe.
Backing up, Yunho can see the charges diminishing in his weapon. Changmin's isn't better off and in about a minute, they're going to be out of ammo.
"You too," he yells at Changmin, nodding towards the hole in the wall. He's not planning to stay behind but the captain is always last to leave. Always.
Changmin discharges another round, backing toward the opening in the side of the carrier. For a single fleeting moment, his eyes meet Yunho's.
"If you're not out in five seconds, I'm coming back and fucking dragging you out," he shouts in return, torn for a moment, before making for the opening.
The older man doesn't respond. He needs to buy them time to make some headway through the jungle. With Jaejoong's wounded form to carry, they'll be slow and their defense leaves to be desired. Bodies pile in the doorway, the few who make it in not getting a chance to make it out ever again. He fires wildly, aimlessly. It's not a game of finesse as he was taught at the Academy; not even one of honor. It's just survival.
The charge blinks out, twice, before it dies out completely.
"Fuck."
Gunfire follows him out of the building, through the opening and skims his ear. Too close, much too close.
Changmin grabs Yoochun's weapon from his hip, tossing it to Yunho, urging the slighter man on ahead of him. Jaejoong is dead weight in the man's arms, and Changmin feels dizzy as the phrase makes its way through his thoughts. He bites his lip harshly, weapon clenched in his hands.
"How many at last count?" The question is directed at Yunho. How many will they have to go back through to get Junsu?
"Twenty, maybe more," he pants, catching up to them. If he can, so can others. They're too slow. "Their weapons are... weird." Not the best description, but he's never seen anything like it. "Plasma rifles that look brand new, but they've been customized beyond Guard regulations. A lot like what you'd see bounty hunters play with. They must've smuggled them in somehow."
The forest floor is slippery and wet under his feet, a complete contrast to the harsh heat wave of the cities on this rock. The sound of weapons and voices in their wake spurs them on.
Junsu is back there. The thought of him tugs heavy at Yunho's heart.
Changmin hefts his own liberated weapon, noting the flickering charge. "Improved or not, they're still lacking a decent charge. This one will be dead with a few more rounds." Sliding on the slick underbed of leaves and grass, he catches himself, noting how Yoochun is beginning to lag. "We need a transport," he bites out. "He can't carry Jaejoong much longer and he's not in any shape to carry a weapon. Get to a port, get ammo."
Get Junsu.
But Yunho shakes his head. "We can't walk and we can't split up." Both scenarios mean suicide. "We need..."
The sound of an engine speeding towards them grows louder and louder, overriding the pressing sound of gunfire.
"Take cover!" It would figure the enemy is motorized too...
Changmin drops to the ground without further ado, turning to land on his back, gun aimed in front of him, ready to blast the fuck out of whatever's heading their way.
With Yoochun and Jaejoong right at his back, Yunho does the same, collapsing in the dirt and aiming... aiming... His fingers are slick with sweat, slippery over the trigger.
"Yunho!"
The sound of his name on familiar lips stays his hand. A half-second later and Junsu's head would have been sporting a hole.
"You fucker!" Changmin shouts, heart hammering in his chest, the sheer relief in his voice belying the harshness of his words. He wants to kiss the other man, because he's never been this happy to see Junsu in his fucking life, but they don't have time.
He scrambles off the ground, shouldering his weapon as he moves towards Yoochun, helping him lift Jaejoong into the speeder, crawling in after him.
"Plan?"
"Spaceport," Yunho replies quickly, climbing in beside Junsu. "This can't be a wide-spread insurrection, but by the Gods, it's well-planned..."
Junsu's foot on the gas lands with surprising force. "What the hell's going on out there? I see these people walking around with guns and then everyone's firing and I just…" He glances back over his shoulder. "What--what happened to Jaejoong? Is he okay?"
"His own fucking men shot him," Changmin spits, digging through the speeder for medical supplies, anything to stem the bleeding and ensuing infection. His hands shake as he searches, not trained in how to deal with a wound of this kind. Laser blasts cauterize the wounds they inflict, leaving no risk of bleeding out. This...
Yoochun sits with Jaejoong's head in his lap, carding his fingers through the other man's hair, indecipherable litanies falling from his lips. The broken sound of his voice tears at Changmin's heart, but he forces himself to ignore it, focusing on Jaejoong.
Junsu doesn't understand, doesn't want to accept this reality. "What?! What the fuck? Yunho..."
"Eyes ahead, lieutenant," Yunho barks in reply, covering their rear. As far as he can see, they're not being followed, but he can't be sure. "Was it because of us? Changmin." He forces the other man's attention on him. "Was it because of us?" He was the best placed to see it happen, he's the most likely to know what the fuck they're dealing with.
Changmin tears open the older man's shirt, unwrapping bandages quickly, a tremor still running through his hands as he sees the ugly wound. They need to soak it in bacta, get him to a healer, get off this barbaric rock.
"The weapons cache," he gets out unsteadily, drawing in breaths one at at time. "That we recovered, it was gone. Cleaned out. They must have thought us behind it."
But why shoot Jaejoong? It didn't make any sense.
"Too many, too well organized," Junsu protests quickly, eyes trained ahead as he's been told but mind reeling. "It's like someone flipped a switch and they all changed sides." He pales, darting a look to Yunho. "They weren't..."
"Guard? No." Yunho averts his eyes from Jaejoong's wound. It looks bad. It is bad. "Mercenaries out for a decent buck is my guess." Hopefully that's all they were. "Free membership is a dream come true to these people." The charge in his weapon flickers and dies.
Behind them, the sound of engines echoes through the forest.
Changmin binds the wound as best as he is able, checking Jaejoong's vitals, stomach sinking. His pulse is thready, barely there, and breathing shallow. Yoochun looks at him with haunted eyes, all the color gone from his face.
The sound of approaching speeders feels like the final nail in the coffin. He reaches out to smooth a hand through Yoochun's dark hair, eyes going to Yunho.
"He's going to die if we don't get him to a healer."
"Which one?" Yunho mutters, looking away. "Step on it, Junsu. I don't care if we end up crashing, just hurry it up." He doesn't need to yell, he can see the panic in the other man's eyes. He won't lose it, though, not until this is over.
The small vehicle hurtles down uneven soil. They're not being pursued. Other landspeeders are running up beside them. Yunho grips the edge of his seat. They're going to shoot Junsu and let them crash.
No. They won't. He's thinking like the Guard. Mercenaries and bounty hunters want heads to make their pay. Live marks make more than dead ones.
"Belay that, lieutenant... Slow down."
"What?" Changmin snaps, hearing the word echo unspoken in Junsu's mind. "Are you trying to make it a fucking close race?" Stress makes insubordination a second nature, not wanting to question his captain, but sitting there, helpless, hands covered in his lover's blood... "Shoot the bastards."
"With what?" Yunho retorts, unused to being questioned. "They won't fire at us. We lay low, they have to keep up and use up their fuel. If we cut the engines when they think they've got us figured out and change course, we won't lead them straight to port." Which is about as good a plan as they have now. "If we stop with those bastards on our six, we don’t stand a chance."
Jaejoong stands no chance.
Changmin swallows a retort, tensing as the speeders flank them, but holding his silence. He's placed his trust in Yunho countless times, this will be no different.
There's less than a tenth of a mike between the landspeeder and the men tailing them, but for once, the jungle is on their side. Thick, green foliage hides them from view from time to time. Enough for their pursuers to get tired, to get used to the play-by-play. Appear, disappear, appear…
Disappear.
Yunho's hand clenches on Junsu's thigh. "Now. Cut the engines."
Yoochun holds Jaejoong's limp form steady as he hears the whispered command, stomach falling out as the craft jerks forward, knees smacking hard on the floor of the craft.
"Hang onto him," he hisses to Yoochun. "Too much movement will open the wound further."
"Ease us to a turn," Yunho whispers to Junsu. "East and then South again. Let's hope they bought the bait."
It's a temporary reprieve at best, but firing the engines up full force, Junsu thrusts them silently forward into the jungle. Nothing on their tails.
"Gods, don't let him die," he murmurs, so soft he hopes the others won't hear.
"Nearest spaceport is about 20 minutes by speeder," Changmin croaks, the wind stinging his eyes as he clutches the side of the craft. "We steal a ship, barter passage. Something." He talks to keep himself centered, to keep from losing it altogether.
"I can have us there in ten," Junsu replies quickly, trying to reassure and knowing that he can't.
Yunho doesn't reply. The dense wood fascinates and scares him. It speaks of death. Its song gets louder.
It's not the wood.
"Do you hear that? Where's that coming from? What... shit!" A look behind him tells him they haven't shaken all their trigger happy friends from pursuit. "Junsu, on our six! Anyone's gun got any power left?"
Changmin pushes the rifle at him, heart pounding dully in his ears. "A few rounds at most."
Not enough to save them. Not even close.
Yunho takes the gun gratefully. It's better than nothing. "Junsu..."
"I'm trying!"
"That's all I'm asking," he sighs, shifting to face the back of the speeder, his knees tucked under him as the hovercraft shakes. His aim was never exemplary, but this is a feat for the books, if he can make it.
The first shot isn't even close.
The speed leaves Changming dizzy, ironic for a pilot, but he's unaccustomed to the open air, the rushing past of trees and foliage, of the smell of blood in the air, coating his hands.
"Yunho," he gets out, the word little more than a whisper, lost to a sudden noise above them, the sound of a ship and they are lost.
Yunho doesn't see it, at first. He hears it, and then a shadow obscures his vision. His second shot hits the enemy craft, but it's ineffective.
"Holy..."
It's Junsu who's most eloquent. "Shit, I know that boat! Yunho... Yunho, it's..." He doesn't need to hear it said. He knows.
The imposing transport ship hovers above them at ridiculously slow speed. Its presence is a harbinger of doom. Landspeeders flock in their wake--and now their crews don't mince their meaning. A volley of fire rains over them, severing leaves and branches.
The Cerberus hangs low on the horizon, its port gate open like a toothless mouth, waiting to swallow them up.
"Evasive manoeuvres?" Junsu is asking. "Yunho, do I try to avoid them? Orders? Yunho? What do I do?"
Jaejoong's ashen face is decision enough.
"Fly us in," Yunho mutters, his back to the ship that's come to their rescue.
***
There's blood on Jaejoong's cheek.
Around him, Yoochun can hear the sound of laser fire, can feel the craft move beneath him, unaware of where they're going. Why. Only able to focus on the smear of red against pale, pale skin, Jaejoong limp in his arms like a broken doll. He tries to wipe it away but his fingers are coated, making it worse, making him bleed and his head is spinning, white noise rushing in his ears when hands try to take his lover away from him, arms holding him back.
He fights till he chokes, Jaejoong disappearing from his sight, falling to his knees on the hard metal deck, the strong warmth of those arms leaving him.
Looking up dizzily, he thinks this must be a dream. Must be, because Jae's gone but She's standing in front of him, chin lifted, beautiful and proud and so much like he remembers from his boyhood, when he used to watch her from afar.
"Empress," he gets out, words dying on his lips as he bows his head forward, bowing before her on the deck. Empress, queen, goddess. She’s worthy of all those names. She’s his saviour and his redemption, his holy grail. She’s the last living heir, the last bastion of hope against the power-hungry traitors who murdered her father and thousands of others, who dragged tradition and loyalty through the mud in their sinful grab for the throne.
It's a dream and a nightmare all in one, and he can only think to wish Jaejoong knelt beside him.
Behind him, the others follow, taking their cue from him.
Jiexi smiles.
It feels like a boot is pressing down on his chest, cutting off his air supply. His diaphragm protests the way it's been constricted, his eyes mouth too, drawing horrible, shaky gasps that do nothing but increase the pounding in his head, in his ears. He hears the dull throbbing of his pulse, the scrape of a bootheel on the ground and then someone is pulling his shoulder back, rolling his face towards the ceiling.
"Are... you... okay..." He hears the words, but he can't recognize the voice. Bloodied fingers reach out to touch his face.
Yoochun.
Yoochun is there.
Jaejoong blacks out.
***
A wave of sickness washes over him as he watches the smaller man crumple to the floor and for a single, heart-stopping moment, he thinks they've killed him. Yoochun lets out a cry that is pure anguish, turning Changmin's blood cold as he fires with deadly accuracy, striking Gun Il once, twice, three times, until the man's body is a smoking ruin on the floor.
Changmin goes for the bastard's gun, Yoochun falling to his knees beside Jaejoong, whispering frantically as he check the man's pulse. Not a regulation plasma rifle, not with the blood and Changmin feels dizzy.
"Yunho..."
The former captain is on his feet as soon as he’s sure he won't get shot. No point in dying, not now. Not when he's come this far. His first thought is to the gun in the dead man's grip. Yoochun's is on the floor by their feet.
"Changmin, take his weapon," he orders swiftly, ignoring the flare of concern in his chest. Not the time for such trifles. Junsu has incoming visitors--if the other two aren't on their way back already. "Come on, soldier! Whoever he was, the motherfucker wasn't acting alone."
They need to take cover. They need a sit rep. And they need a plan. Fast.
Changmin does without thinking, like any good soldier, grabbing Yoochun's weapon, passing it over to Yunho, hefting Gun Il's modified rifle.
"We need to get Jaejoong out of here," he hisses, nodding towards the direction the other two men had gone. "They can surround us too easily in the corridor. Get him out and get Junsu."
Yunho nods, curtly. His back against the wall, he checks the dead man's pockets. No insignia. He's not a Guard spy. In that at least, they're lucky.
"What's our fastest way out of here? Nearest exit?" He looks to Changmin for answers, he doesn't bother addressing Yoochun. In his place, he would be weeping too. There's still a chance he might.
Footsteps echo down the hall. More than two. And by the sound of charging guns, more than two plasma rifles.
"My room," he orders, brief and to the point. "Now!"
Slinging the gun over his shoulder, Changming kneels beside Yoochun, trying to pull him of Jaejoong, to lift the other man and get him out of here. He catches a fist in the mouth, the tang of copper heavy on his tongue.
"Yoochun," he hisses, clutching at the man's collar, shaking him. "Snap the fuck out of it! We have to move him, come on!"
He trusts Yunho to watch their rear as he slides his arms under Jaejoong's, the unconscious man's head rolling lifelessly against his chest. "Get his legs. Yoochun," he hisses, voice harsh when the other man doesn't respond. "Get his fucking legs!"
It takes another few times for the words to register in Yoochun's head, but he obeys, mechanically, every movement laced with desperation. He's losing it and it's a bad time to be even more outnumbered than they are.
A flash of light and then lasers fire at them, enemy aim dangerously close. Yunho retaliates, chancing a swift prayer to the Gods on their ivory thrones up in the skies. Get them out of this and he might even start believing again.
He hits one, watches the man fall, but any satisfaction is quickly shattered as three more respond with fire. Heavily outnumbered, he retreats, follows the others into the room. They need to barricade the door, but nothing holds back laser fire. His eyes meet Changmin's.
"He'll make it." And he doesn't know which one of them he means anymore. Jaejoong? Junsu?
"Not if we don't get out of here," Changmin mutters, shoulder against the wall, rifle raised. All too aware of Yoochun bent over his lover's body. No, not body. Jaejoong. He's alive and he's going to fucking stay that way.
"We need a door."
And a transport, then a ship, to get the fuck off this hole of a planet. But a door first, while their guns are still charged.
His stomach clenches as he thinks of Junsu. They won't leave him. They won't.
"So we'll make ourselves a door," Yunho nods. A blast echoes outside. Their friends must be getting trigger happy. "Outside walls are metal," he reasons, thinking back on the plans he saw, on what Yoochun told him. "So aim for the bolts and don't stop shooting."
It's a shitty plan, but it's the best they've got. Pressure unnerves him and the odds staked against them even more.
His gun arm trained on the door in case they get company, Yunho slides over to Yoochun's side. "Yoochun, hey!" The man is unresponsive, nigh catatonic. "Are you here? There's nothing you can do for Jaejoong unless you help us get him out of here. Hey!" Fact is, he has two arms and a clear aim. Jaejoong's sidearm catches the morning light with a glimmer.
It takes a violent shove to his shoulder to bring Yoochun out of his swirling thoughts, blinking slowly, not registering the words being spoken until he's dragged off the floor, a hard slap across the face cutting of his initial attempt to fight back, to get back to Jaejoong's side. He belongs there, can't be anywhere but there--
A gun is pressed into his hands, Yunho's words coming at him as if he's in a tunnel, but he's being directed, made to shoot and he does, firing away at the side of the ship, pouring the swirling tempest inside him into this action. Needing to destroy something.
His effort combined with Changmin's is effective. Singed and contorting, the metal can't resist the heat being poured into it. And apparently, neither can the door.
Three sustained volleys of fire and the top hinge gives way with a sharp sound. It's barely audible over the barrage of sound inside the room, but it's happening too quickly. Everything, all of it is. Jaejoong hasn't stopped bleeding and Yunho can't forget they're a man down.
"Hurry it up!" he yells just as the door collapses completely.
"Get him out of here!" Changmin shouts, giving the panel a crushing hit with the butt of his rifle, until it breaks free from the craft completely. He turns to cover Yunho, sending a round of fire into the rebels.
Holstering his weapon, movements automatic and machine-like, Yoochun gathers Jaejoong into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Blood soaks his clothing, smearing his features and no, he can't think of that, can't think of it. Get him out. That's what they said, get Jaejoong out and he'll be safe.
Backing up, Yunho can see the charges diminishing in his weapon. Changmin's isn't better off and in about a minute, they're going to be out of ammo.
"You too," he yells at Changmin, nodding towards the hole in the wall. He's not planning to stay behind but the captain is always last to leave. Always.
Changmin discharges another round, backing toward the opening in the side of the carrier. For a single fleeting moment, his eyes meet Yunho's.
"If you're not out in five seconds, I'm coming back and fucking dragging you out," he shouts in return, torn for a moment, before making for the opening.
The older man doesn't respond. He needs to buy them time to make some headway through the jungle. With Jaejoong's wounded form to carry, they'll be slow and their defense leaves to be desired. Bodies pile in the doorway, the few who make it in not getting a chance to make it out ever again. He fires wildly, aimlessly. It's not a game of finesse as he was taught at the Academy; not even one of honor. It's just survival.
The charge blinks out, twice, before it dies out completely.
"Fuck."
Gunfire follows him out of the building, through the opening and skims his ear. Too close, much too close.
Changmin grabs Yoochun's weapon from his hip, tossing it to Yunho, urging the slighter man on ahead of him. Jaejoong is dead weight in the man's arms, and Changmin feels dizzy as the phrase makes its way through his thoughts. He bites his lip harshly, weapon clenched in his hands.
"How many at last count?" The question is directed at Yunho. How many will they have to go back through to get Junsu?
"Twenty, maybe more," he pants, catching up to them. If he can, so can others. They're too slow. "Their weapons are... weird." Not the best description, but he's never seen anything like it. "Plasma rifles that look brand new, but they've been customized beyond Guard regulations. A lot like what you'd see bounty hunters play with. They must've smuggled them in somehow."
The forest floor is slippery and wet under his feet, a complete contrast to the harsh heat wave of the cities on this rock. The sound of weapons and voices in their wake spurs them on.
Junsu is back there. The thought of him tugs heavy at Yunho's heart.
Changmin hefts his own liberated weapon, noting the flickering charge. "Improved or not, they're still lacking a decent charge. This one will be dead with a few more rounds." Sliding on the slick underbed of leaves and grass, he catches himself, noting how Yoochun is beginning to lag. "We need a transport," he bites out. "He can't carry Jaejoong much longer and he's not in any shape to carry a weapon. Get to a port, get ammo."
Get Junsu.
But Yunho shakes his head. "We can't walk and we can't split up." Both scenarios mean suicide. "We need..."
The sound of an engine speeding towards them grows louder and louder, overriding the pressing sound of gunfire.
"Take cover!" It would figure the enemy is motorized too...
Changmin drops to the ground without further ado, turning to land on his back, gun aimed in front of him, ready to blast the fuck out of whatever's heading their way.
With Yoochun and Jaejoong right at his back, Yunho does the same, collapsing in the dirt and aiming... aiming... His fingers are slick with sweat, slippery over the trigger.
"Yunho!"
The sound of his name on familiar lips stays his hand. A half-second later and Junsu's head would have been sporting a hole.
"You fucker!" Changmin shouts, heart hammering in his chest, the sheer relief in his voice belying the harshness of his words. He wants to kiss the other man, because he's never been this happy to see Junsu in his fucking life, but they don't have time.
He scrambles off the ground, shouldering his weapon as he moves towards Yoochun, helping him lift Jaejoong into the speeder, crawling in after him.
"Plan?"
"Spaceport," Yunho replies quickly, climbing in beside Junsu. "This can't be a wide-spread insurrection, but by the Gods, it's well-planned..."
Junsu's foot on the gas lands with surprising force. "What the hell's going on out there? I see these people walking around with guns and then everyone's firing and I just…" He glances back over his shoulder. "What--what happened to Jaejoong? Is he okay?"
"His own fucking men shot him," Changmin spits, digging through the speeder for medical supplies, anything to stem the bleeding and ensuing infection. His hands shake as he searches, not trained in how to deal with a wound of this kind. Laser blasts cauterize the wounds they inflict, leaving no risk of bleeding out. This...
Yoochun sits with Jaejoong's head in his lap, carding his fingers through the other man's hair, indecipherable litanies falling from his lips. The broken sound of his voice tears at Changmin's heart, but he forces himself to ignore it, focusing on Jaejoong.
Junsu doesn't understand, doesn't want to accept this reality. "What?! What the fuck? Yunho..."
"Eyes ahead, lieutenant," Yunho barks in reply, covering their rear. As far as he can see, they're not being followed, but he can't be sure. "Was it because of us? Changmin." He forces the other man's attention on him. "Was it because of us?" He was the best placed to see it happen, he's the most likely to know what the fuck they're dealing with.
Changmin tears open the older man's shirt, unwrapping bandages quickly, a tremor still running through his hands as he sees the ugly wound. They need to soak it in bacta, get him to a healer, get off this barbaric rock.
"The weapons cache," he gets out unsteadily, drawing in breaths one at at time. "That we recovered, it was gone. Cleaned out. They must have thought us behind it."
But why shoot Jaejoong? It didn't make any sense.
"Too many, too well organized," Junsu protests quickly, eyes trained ahead as he's been told but mind reeling. "It's like someone flipped a switch and they all changed sides." He pales, darting a look to Yunho. "They weren't..."
"Guard? No." Yunho averts his eyes from Jaejoong's wound. It looks bad. It is bad. "Mercenaries out for a decent buck is my guess." Hopefully that's all they were. "Free membership is a dream come true to these people." The charge in his weapon flickers and dies.
Behind them, the sound of engines echoes through the forest.
Changmin binds the wound as best as he is able, checking Jaejoong's vitals, stomach sinking. His pulse is thready, barely there, and breathing shallow. Yoochun looks at him with haunted eyes, all the color gone from his face.
The sound of approaching speeders feels like the final nail in the coffin. He reaches out to smooth a hand through Yoochun's dark hair, eyes going to Yunho.
"He's going to die if we don't get him to a healer."
"Which one?" Yunho mutters, looking away. "Step on it, Junsu. I don't care if we end up crashing, just hurry it up." He doesn't need to yell, he can see the panic in the other man's eyes. He won't lose it, though, not until this is over.
The small vehicle hurtles down uneven soil. They're not being pursued. Other landspeeders are running up beside them. Yunho grips the edge of his seat. They're going to shoot Junsu and let them crash.
No. They won't. He's thinking like the Guard. Mercenaries and bounty hunters want heads to make their pay. Live marks make more than dead ones.
"Belay that, lieutenant... Slow down."
"What?" Changmin snaps, hearing the word echo unspoken in Junsu's mind. "Are you trying to make it a fucking close race?" Stress makes insubordination a second nature, not wanting to question his captain, but sitting there, helpless, hands covered in his lover's blood... "Shoot the bastards."
"With what?" Yunho retorts, unused to being questioned. "They won't fire at us. We lay low, they have to keep up and use up their fuel. If we cut the engines when they think they've got us figured out and change course, we won't lead them straight to port." Which is about as good a plan as they have now. "If we stop with those bastards on our six, we don’t stand a chance."
Jaejoong stands no chance.
Changmin swallows a retort, tensing as the speeders flank them, but holding his silence. He's placed his trust in Yunho countless times, this will be no different.
There's less than a tenth of a mike between the landspeeder and the men tailing them, but for once, the jungle is on their side. Thick, green foliage hides them from view from time to time. Enough for their pursuers to get tired, to get used to the play-by-play. Appear, disappear, appear…
Disappear.
Yunho's hand clenches on Junsu's thigh. "Now. Cut the engines."
Yoochun holds Jaejoong's limp form steady as he hears the whispered command, stomach falling out as the craft jerks forward, knees smacking hard on the floor of the craft.
"Hang onto him," he hisses to Yoochun. "Too much movement will open the wound further."
"Ease us to a turn," Yunho whispers to Junsu. "East and then South again. Let's hope they bought the bait."
It's a temporary reprieve at best, but firing the engines up full force, Junsu thrusts them silently forward into the jungle. Nothing on their tails.
"Gods, don't let him die," he murmurs, so soft he hopes the others won't hear.
"Nearest spaceport is about 20 minutes by speeder," Changmin croaks, the wind stinging his eyes as he clutches the side of the craft. "We steal a ship, barter passage. Something." He talks to keep himself centered, to keep from losing it altogether.
"I can have us there in ten," Junsu replies quickly, trying to reassure and knowing that he can't.
Yunho doesn't reply. The dense wood fascinates and scares him. It speaks of death. Its song gets louder.
It's not the wood.
"Do you hear that? Where's that coming from? What... shit!" A look behind him tells him they haven't shaken all their trigger happy friends from pursuit. "Junsu, on our six! Anyone's gun got any power left?"
Changmin pushes the rifle at him, heart pounding dully in his ears. "A few rounds at most."
Not enough to save them. Not even close.
Yunho takes the gun gratefully. It's better than nothing. "Junsu..."
"I'm trying!"
"That's all I'm asking," he sighs, shifting to face the back of the speeder, his knees tucked under him as the hovercraft shakes. His aim was never exemplary, but this is a feat for the books, if he can make it.
The first shot isn't even close.
The speed leaves Changming dizzy, ironic for a pilot, but he's unaccustomed to the open air, the rushing past of trees and foliage, of the smell of blood in the air, coating his hands.
"Yunho," he gets out, the word little more than a whisper, lost to a sudden noise above them, the sound of a ship and they are lost.
Yunho doesn't see it, at first. He hears it, and then a shadow obscures his vision. His second shot hits the enemy craft, but it's ineffective.
"Holy..."
It's Junsu who's most eloquent. "Shit, I know that boat! Yunho... Yunho, it's..." He doesn't need to hear it said. He knows.
The imposing transport ship hovers above them at ridiculously slow speed. Its presence is a harbinger of doom. Landspeeders flock in their wake--and now their crews don't mince their meaning. A volley of fire rains over them, severing leaves and branches.
The Cerberus hangs low on the horizon, its port gate open like a toothless mouth, waiting to swallow them up.
"Evasive manoeuvres?" Junsu is asking. "Yunho, do I try to avoid them? Orders? Yunho? What do I do?"
Jaejoong's ashen face is decision enough.
"Fly us in," Yunho mutters, his back to the ship that's come to their rescue.
***
There's blood on Jaejoong's cheek.
Around him, Yoochun can hear the sound of laser fire, can feel the craft move beneath him, unaware of where they're going. Why. Only able to focus on the smear of red against pale, pale skin, Jaejoong limp in his arms like a broken doll. He tries to wipe it away but his fingers are coated, making it worse, making him bleed and his head is spinning, white noise rushing in his ears when hands try to take his lover away from him, arms holding him back.
He fights till he chokes, Jaejoong disappearing from his sight, falling to his knees on the hard metal deck, the strong warmth of those arms leaving him.
Looking up dizzily, he thinks this must be a dream. Must be, because Jae's gone but She's standing in front of him, chin lifted, beautiful and proud and so much like he remembers from his boyhood, when he used to watch her from afar.
"Empress," he gets out, words dying on his lips as he bows his head forward, bowing before her on the deck. Empress, queen, goddess. She’s worthy of all those names. She’s his saviour and his redemption, his holy grail. She’s the last living heir, the last bastion of hope against the power-hungry traitors who murdered her father and thousands of others, who dragged tradition and loyalty through the mud in their sinful grab for the throne.
It's a dream and a nightmare all in one, and he can only think to wish Jaejoong knelt beside him.
Behind him, the others follow, taking their cue from him.
Jiexi smiles.