A/N: Back, during the middle of exam season to vent stress via writing awful and gratuitous fanfiction. Currently only half way through season two of Mako Mermaids (which has been unfairly adorable so far), so writing AU means I can't mess up any of the unknown canon, though I'm getting the impression some pretty dramatic stuff goes down in Season 2... anyway, hope you enjoy dumb Space!AU. Uploads will probably be slow because revision.
Warnings: Copious amounts of swearing, violence, PTSD, and possible body horror? Rated T. There will be two sex scenes tied in with the storyline of this AU, but I'll publish them separately in my M-rated Mako Mermaid collection rather than here, with a note of when they're relevant.
Chapter One: A trashy space AU is an important mandatory part of any respectable fandom.
Cam
The gunfire is deafening. Cam can hardly breathe for the sand and dust blown up by all the commotion. It's all he can do to stay orientated, let alone fight for the glory of the Empire, and all that crap.
"Fucks sake," Zac coughs from beside him, where they both sit squatting behind a convenient boulder, "Empire cares more about those metal shells than about us."
Turning to look over his shoulder, Cam squints at the figures moving through the dust cloud around them. Now that the human foot soldiers have exhausted the heavy artillery of their target, it would appear the Empire is sending the real army in. Admittedly, this real army is the sole reason the Empire is winning the war despite having half the amount of human support as the Rebellion, so perhaps Zac and Cam ought to be thankful. They look like humans, talk like humans, and can die like humans, but the real fighting force behind the Empire is far from human.
Androids are faster, stronger, and smarter than humans. Of course the army cares more about them than the meat sacks they have to pay to employ, who can barely shoot a gun anyway. "You don't cost ten thousand credits a pop to manufacture," Cam says with a laugh. Zac doesn't seem to find it funny though.
"Maybe the Rebellion's right," he says under his breath. "Maybe the Empire really doesn't care about the human soul anymore."
"Zac, you can have your deep philosophical debate after we get off this hellhole of a planet. For now let's just be good canon fodder, yeah?" Cam puts a hand on his best friend's shoulder, because Zac really looks like he's ready to switch sides, and they both know how that would fare. The Rebellion hasn't won a single battle since the integration of androids into the Empire's fighting tactics. Cam doesn't think Zac's going to change that.
"Attention soldiers," booms a gruff female voice in their earpieces, managing to be loud even against the sounds of lasers blasting great buildings to pieces. "The passage to the refinery has been cleared; you are to proceed and take hostage any prisoners you can find. Out."
"All this for some damn spices," Zac grumbles, sneaking a peak over the boulder. He nearly loses his head as three shots are fired his way, only just managing to duck in time. "Cleared my ass."
"Relax," Cam says. "We'll just wait for the androids to really clear it out, then go join the other meat sacks. Good plan or what?"
"Really wish you wouldn't call us humans meat sacks, Cam." Zac fidgets uncomfortably. "Sounds like something an Andy would call us."
"We call them metal shells, what does it matter?"
"Makes it sound like they're better than us."
Cam nearly goes to point out that they are better, in every way aside from this dumb human soul bullshit, but bites his tongue. His priority is stopping Zac from bolting out there to go clear the way to the refinery. Admittedly his genius plan is defying orders and could get them executed, but at least that way there's a slim chance they'll actually survive.
They wait behind their fragile shelter until the sounds of explosions and slaughter fade into the distance. Zac sticks his head out again, and this time there's no retaliation; The ground ahead of them is populated solely by corpses and rubble. They're alone.
"Race you there," Cam yells once he's sure they're safe. He slings his rifle over his shoulder and breaks into a sprint. It feels good; the dust has cleared by now, and after spending months cooped up on a ship, being able to run in the open air is a welcome change. There are three suns high in the sky and if he avoids looking at the fallen corpses, he can nearly pretend everything's normal.
"Fuck you," he yells after Zac, who overtakes him easily. It makes Zac laugh, so he can't really feel jealous, though he probably ought to. After all, whilst they may all be meat sacks, Zac is classified as elite; physically superior to the rest of his kind, all muscles and innate athletic talent. If it weren't for the androids outshining everyone, he'd probably be in a position of power. Thanks to the androids though, they're both on the same bottom rung level, elite Zac and borderline write off Cam together. Cam wouldn't admit it, but perhaps he's a little bit grateful.
They race down through the canyon valley, past detonated outposts and annihilated machine gun stations. It doesn't matter anymore; they've seen it all before. What matters is they're still alive, and no one caught their cowardice. Today, they've survived.
"Found them," Zac yells from up ahead, spotting the refinery down in the base of the valley. The androids have it surrounded, and what remains of the human Empire forces are securing the inside.
"Go ahead," Cam pants, doubling over and clutching at the stitch in his chest. "I'll catch up."
Grinning, Zac laughs at his fitness. "Don't let the Empire catch you doing this, or they'll have you on double training." He laughs again when Cam gives him the finger. Lowering the visor of his suit helmet, Zac jogs off to go help the others.
"Arsehole."
Zac isn't even out of breath as Cam watches him vanish. It's always been like this, Zac overachieving and Cam struggling to keep up. Sure, Zac can be an asshole about it when he wants to be, but as Cam winces through the lactic acid build up in his muscles, he laughs to himself. Zac might be a greek god in human form or whatever, but he'd be dusted by now if Cam hadn't been round to stop him doing something boneheaded every other day.
Cam just about manages to catch his breath when he hears it; a high, whining siren. He thinks it must be some new Empire technology, dismissing it. They barely tell the meat sacks anything nowadays.
His chest tightens all over again, however, when he spots the androids sprinting towards him. A blur to the human eye, they reach him in under a minute, crossing a good mile in that time. Then they run right past him.
"W-what?" Cam stutters, watching them sprint off before looking back at the refinery. A crackle sounds in his earpiece.
"All soldiers retreat, repeat, retreat. Enemy bombing imminent. Estimated impact in ten, nine-" Cam doesn't hear the rest because the entire area is eclipsed in a wave of dust and light. It's hot and scalding against his face, but he only gets the outer remains of it. It's enough to knock him off his feet, however, sending him sprawling into the sand of the desert ground, blinding him.
A high-pitched whine croons in his ear like a lullaby as he sits up. He looks around at the canyon, down at the refinery, and barely registers where he is, what's happened. It's all distant and serene, like being underwater, and then-
"Zac."
Scrambling to his feet he stumbles once, twice, and then manages to lope down to the base of the valley. The mile takes him longer than it should, even in spite of his lack of elite physical fitness. He thinks his ankle's bust, he keeps falling over, and there's blood in his mouth. He ignores it.
"Zac?" He croaks out as he reaches the first of the bodies. He wouldn't be able to tell if it was Zac even if he could see straight; the face torn to shreds, an arm missing, and the rest is hardly a human body at all. Coughing violently, he staggers across the field of corpses, turning those that are face down to examine them. The refinery itself has buckled inwards, slowly issuing a fine red powder from its crumpled reserves. Inhaling it makes Cam's head spin further, his finger tips tingling and he wonders just what the hell is being mined on this godforsaken planet.
"Zac? Zac? Hey, Zac?" He mumbles it over and over. Few of the bodies left strewn around are moving, and those that are probably wish they weren't, burned and broken. Cam doesn't know what kind of a bomb that was, or where the hell it came from, but he can still see that it was not supposed to happen.
Someone fucked up. Missed something. Was it a trap?
Delirious, he falls repeatedly, barely getting to his feet before dropping down again. "Zac?" He chokes out again. He falls again, this time atop a body. Poor bastard has his legs ripped clean off of him, and there's blood pouring from his head like it's going out of fashion. It moves, groaning softly, and Cam considers putting the miserable sod out of its misery with his rifle. Then he recognises the groan.
"Zac? Fuck, Zac, is that you?" It can't be. It is. It really is. Cam turns him onto his back and though the face is mangled and seared, half is recognisable as the best friend he grew up and went to war with. "Oh hell. Oh fucking hell." He continues in that vein for a good five minutes, Zac's one good eye not seeing him, and not recognising or processing information. He's still alive, but barely.
Crying now, hysterical from the red dust and the shock, Cam hugs Zac's amputated torso to his chest and cries into his hair. Zac makes a disgruntled noise of protest, or maybe pain, Cam doesn't know, just laughs helplessly anyway. "Still alive buddy. Come on. You'll be just fine. I'll take you back. Get you patched up right as rain. Nothing a good doctor can't fix, Zac. Just a couple of scratches."
He keeps mumbling reassurances to himself, despite Zac going limp. He's still breathing though, and as Cam keeps muttering to himself he slows. Maybe he really can be the hero this time. Zac's saved his ass so many times in the past, surely Cam's got to have a chance to be the one to come to the rescue. It's only a couple of kilometres back to camp. Sure Zac's bleeding out at an alarming rate and, well, devoid of legs, but…
Logic doesn't matter to Cam at that moment; he's too high to care anyway. He forces himself to stand and grabs his best friend under the armpits. "Fuck you Zac," he mutters, taking a deep breath of red powder. "What makes you think you have the right to leave me alone in this thing?"
Gritting his teeth, he begins the long haul back. Unsteady on his legs, he trips and buckles over and over, but pumped up on adrenaline, refuses to stay down. He doesn't stop even as he has to drag Zac's stump body up the hill out of the valley, and just swears colourfully as Zac gets caught on rocks or in narrow crevices. Doesn't matter. Keep going.
Halfway there, his earpiece resurrects itself in a buzz of static. "Attention survivors. We have neutralised the bomb threat. All surviving soldiers are to ensure the refinery is secure. Top priority. Repeat, you are to secure the refinery. Those of you that require medical attention shall receive it once we are sure the area is secured."
Cam stops to listen to the recording again. He laughs, at first just a sort of snort, and then he devolves into hysterics. "Fucking Empire, hey Zac?" He grins, securing his hold on Zac's wrists, too exhausted to pull him by the armpits anymore. He counts to three in his head and commences pulling again, dragging Zac away from the refinery, back towards their camp. Let some other asshole secure the refinery. Cam's had a desertion charge coming any day now anyway.
Though no other retreating survivors accompany him, he's fairly confident that's because there are none left to retreat anyway. The desert and canyon are silent; even the air, usually blowing gusts of grit against the rock, has fallen still. All he can hear is himself panting, swallowing back blood and gasping as his muscles ache. It doesn't seem to end. Like the desert, it feels like it surely will go on forever.
As the horizon shimmers, he thinks he sees a mirage: a glittering spectacle of something, civilisation maybe. Voices cry out, welcoming him. Hope, a rescue.
A shot's fired, and his legs buckle entirely beneath him. One has a gaping burn shot through the thigh of his suit, and as he falls his grip on Zac drops too. Two individuals in matching white suits jog over, say something in sharp tones, but nothing that Cam can make out. To him they look like angels, backed against the halos of the suns.
One of them inspects Zac. "Human… health profile?" Cam's able to make out that much, though it's garbled. Watching their mouths open and close, they look like big guppy fish, their flashing eyes angry and huge and distorted. They both scowl twisted, enormous scowls as he vomits.
"Elite… promise. Could try… program?"
"No… not ready… we don't… authorisation."
"Screw… dead… humanity… needs this."
Silence. One of the angels stands, paces a moment, and then swears. Cam's hearing clears just enough to make out their conversation, "Alright. Take him on board and begin the operation."
"What about this one?" The other angel kicks Cam in the side.
"The deserter? Let the military deal with him. They have their methods."
"Yes Ma'am."
Cam breaks into a dumb, dizzy grin as he watches more angels rush forwards to pick Zac's body up. They all carry him off, back into the camp, to safety, away from bombs, the heat, and mysterious red powder. Cam doesn't stop grinning even as a man in a black suit, like his only equipped with a better ventilation system and a shimmering energy shield, strides up to him. The grin lasts even as that man draws out a small metal stick that lights up with electricity, and slams it across the side of his head.
The grin fades only as he's plummeted into unconsciousness.