(no subject)

Jan 17, 2008 10:18

Title: Acts of Insurrection (18/20)
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!

Prequel: Acts of Contrition
;
Acts of Insurrection: One
; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen





Chapter Eighteen

The two-person craft rattles suspiciously under their feet, engines set to full throttle as the Acheron gradually recedes in the background. Gone but far from forgotten. The comsys crackles with incoming calls from Command, requests that they fall back to the ship belying the Guard's ignorance of their escape. For now, at least.

Yoochun winces with every move. "Will they fire on us?" he asks, sounding strangely calm for such circumstances.

Resigned is the word, Junsu notes and shakes his head slowly. "They're not what I'm worried about."

Specks in the distance, an enemy fleet awaits them. And they're flying the wrong colors.

***

He won't say it aloud, but his hands are just as itching to fire on these bastards as Jaejoong's. Won't say it aloud, because he wants Yunho's trust, doesn't want the man to pull him back at the last minute and so he controls himself. Flicking targeting screen into place over his eyes, he approaches the craft at full clip, statistical layouts humming in his ear. Strange, for a ship of that make to be sent out in favor of the smaller, faster fighters but the Guard's mistakes are their own fall.

Changmin raises forward shields, tightening his hands on the controls and preparing to engage.

***

"Those are our ships, aren't they?" Junsu has to ask, has to check. Like a man lost in the desert, he's afraid of mistaking a mirage for reality.

Three fighters show up on the sensors, too good to be true. Yoochun double-checks, loading and reloading the image before he nods curtly and sinks back into his seat with a flinch.

"They're ours," he hears whispered by his ear. "And they're loading weapons. Shit." As tight a rein as he takes on the controls, there's no changing the fact that they're lacking speed to outrun the rebel fighters. And even if they could, where would they run to?

Junsu bites his lip. "Vent out all our charges and see if you can't scramble our signal to catch their frequency." Inoffensive as they might be, they'll still come under fire. It's ridiculous and bound to happen. "If you haven't already, I'd suggest you strap yourself in."

***

A frown is dark on his features as the computer reads the ship's layout to him, sweat dampening his brow as he tightens his grasp on the controls. The craft isn't raising weapons, just bringing up shields. He tightens his jaw.

"Min, Jae, look alive. They sent us a floater, more may be incoming."

What the hell are they playing at?

***

"Weapons?" Junsu asks, his voice too loud in the small cockpit, panic rising. Fuck, those fighters are quick. They'll be on them in fifteen seconds and counting down was never the pilot's preference.

"Gone," Yoochun answers, still curt, still so damnably composed. "They'll scan us, right?" he adds, fingers tapping the comsys desperately. All that comes back is white noise. "They'll scan us before they shoot. Right, Junsu?"

"I don't... I don't know." But they're about to find out.

***

Impatience is sparking hot in his bloodstream, fingers clutching the controls like it's his last life-line and maybe it is. It's the only thing that will get him to the others, that will get them back and end this whole fucking nightmare. And he's sick of waiting.

Jaejoong switches off his comsys and opens fire.

***

It's not the first craft that fires on them but the wingman, shooting up around the leader and aiming straight for them with accuracy that leaves Junsu's heart pounding somewhere in his throat.

He brings them up in rotation, gritting his teeth when the craft around him protests. There's a reason these things aren't preferred in the Guard anymore: they're heavy in the spins and they drag their tails. It's a sad thing but that's likely to get them killed.

Yoochun shoots him a desperate look. "Why--why are they firing on us already? Don't they know..."

Another volley of fire flies by their shields, damaging some but not enough to blow up an engine. The fighter is hot on their six and another follows its example, joining the chase.

"Oh Gods..."

***

It's wrong.

He knows it, somehow. Knows it in his bones, in his flesh. The faster they approach, the deeper the feeling goes until it's an all-consuming dread. This is wrong.

Changmin flicks on his comsys, retracting the targeting screen, worry sparking in him when he only receives static. He turned it off. God fucking damn it, Jaejoong. He breaks from formation, tailing him and pushing speed, trying to force him out of shooting range.

"What the fuck are you doing?" crackles in his ear, furious, and he shakes his head, eyes on the unarmed craft.

"Hold your fire, alright? Just hold it."

***

Junsu swears, knowing the drill, knowing Yunho taught the rebels all he knows about piloting and for one horrible moment, hating him for it. Whoever is pursuing them is in one of three surprisingly well fitted fighters. He can't see the other two, can't tear his eyes away from the controls to peek at the sensors, but a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that's not the manoeuvres and it's not gravity tells him they're not far behind.

Yoochun punches the wireless as if that'll connect it to an encrypted frequency. They both know they're screwed. The proverbial needle in the haystack has got nothing on the infinite number of possible wavelengths the rebels are using. They only know the Imperial one and that's exactly what they don't need.

***

Yunho catches his transmission instead. "Hold fire? Why?" he snaps, readying his guns. "What do see, Changmin?"

There's a brief moment of static and then, "It's not what I see...this is wrong, Yunho. My gut's telling me we don't want to do this."

He hisses in disbelief. What the hell is that supposed to mean? "We don't have time for this, Changmin. Just get Jaejoong back on the frequency."

***

Yoochun smacks the controls with his elbows, falling forward as they lose altitude.

"Are we hit? Junsu, are we hit?" he cries, near hysterical and somewhat glad he's been starving for the past few days. No risk of losing his lunch.

The pilot shakes his head. "No... but I can't--fucking--shake them. Where's the third one? Shit. They're going to run us full circle, aren't they? They're going to fucking bring us in like cattle..." And why aren't they looking? Why are they going after an unarmed craft with such ferocity?

Tears well up, panic choking him. They can't die like this.

***

Jaejoong hisses through his teeth, finally flicking on his comsys after Changmin's third attempt to railroad him from shooting range, anger hot and heavy in his chest.

"Fuck off, Changmin," he spits into the frequency, wrenching his craft away from the other man's. "These bastards have to pay."

Without fail the fighter follows him, flanking his starboard side insistently. "Jaejoong, stop! It's them. It's them."

***

"I can't get through," Yoochun swears, cupping a hand to his ear. The com signal is faint and he can't decode it to gain access, but he can hear them. Just barely.

It's them. He hears Jaejoong first, voice thick with hate and words hardly loud enough to be distinguishable. Fucking poetic.

"...oong, stop! It's.."

Changmin's voice filters through clear and sharp, as if he's in the cockpit with them and not preparing to shoot their craft down. Yoochun sets their beacon to the highest setting, waiting, hoping it will get picked up. 'Don't shoot,' it says, 'it's me. It's Yoochun.'

***

"...it's...it's Yoochun. Don't shoot, it's..."

The foreign signal blasts through his radio, crackling and barely distinguishable but Changmin could fucking weep he's so relieved. Yoochun's voice; distorted through static and over the airwaves, but it's him. He pulls up sharply, catching the signal when it repeats and broadcasting it into Jaejoong and Yunho's craft.

"Pull up, pull up!"

***

There's no immediate response and Yoochun stares blindly at their sensors, eyes refusing to face their impending doom. Killed by friendly fire. Isn't that a joke...

Junsu does his best to stay out their grasp, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead, mingling with sweat and blood that may or may not be his own and how the fuck did it get so wrong? How did they end up so far, so lost, so alone?

The comsys crackles with sound: "...up... pull... up..."

Someone heard them. Someone fucking heard them. He's on the box in fractions of a second, repeating his message, praying he didn't imagine it. "Min... Min, is that you? Gods, please don't shoot... please..." He's crying and his resolve is crumbling but salvation is so close and it brings back all the hell he's endured in what feels like years since he's last seen his lovers.

***

The comsys is suddenly awash with voices, fractured, broken sobbing and Jaejoong and Changmin's frantic questions and he feels so fucking lightheaded that his hands shake on the controls, one going to his ear to bring in the Cerberus.

"Hold fire on the enemy craft," he rasps out, mouth dry. "We have Yoochun, we're bringing him in."

A pause, a short burst of static and, "And Kim?"

Yunho's heart sinks in his chest. "I don't know." A terrible memory overflows his mind, fingers tightening on the controls to keep the craft steady.

***

“Junsu!” Changmin shrieks, eyes wide and staring at nothing, heart hammering. “Junsu! Jun-“ A hand claps over his mouth, hands pinning him to the bed even as he fights and he’s sobbing hard enough to asphyxiate himself.

“Changmin,” he whispers, his name a desperate call, his voice cracked and fearful.

“He’s dead,” Changmin gulps through lungfulls of air, muffled, the nightmare still clutching at him. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…”

Arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. "You were dreaming, that's all." Even as he says it, Yunho's voice shakes, anxiety and pain and fatigue taking its toll on the older man. "That's all."

Changmin pushes back, legs kicking out under the sheets, trying to free himself. "No, no, not a dream, we have to find them, Yunho, we have to--"

"Shh..."

"Now, Yunho--now! He's in pain, he's in so much pain. He's going to die there and we can't--can't do anything about it..."

***

Jiexi's voice is a razor, bringing back to the present. "Are you sure, Yunho? You'd better be fucking sure because--"

"They have no weapons!" he protests, cutting her off. "I scanned for radiological signs. No nukes. They're clear."

"The ship itself is a weapon," comes the sharp retort. "If it does anything suspicious," she advises after a moment's pause: "Take it out."

He shuts off his comlink deliberately for fear of saying something he might regret.

He doesn't dare scan for lifesigns. If Yoochun is alone, then... then Changmin was right. They've lost Junsu. Hands grip the controls and it's all he can do to keep from turning his fighter around and crashing it into the Acheron's main deck, where it would cause the most damage.
Previous post Next post
Up