Title: Space Troopers
Chapter 7
Rating:
PG for now, rating will rise in further chapters
Pairings: Mainly Cid/Vincent. In-between-the-lines Cloud/Aerith, Zack/Cloud/Sephiroth and any couple combination amongst the three.
Warnings: AU. Violence and yaoi in further chapters. Spoilers for both movie and game.
Summary: Space mechanic Cid Highwind was having a wonderfully crappy day when he happened to stumble upon an old Shinra-issued cryogenic pod. His kind heart forbade him not to wake up the poor bastard. His cursing brain knew he was getting into a heap of trouble.
Notes: All my babble about technology is pure guesswork and imagination. Don't take it too much at heart. Also, I will be freely mixing elements from both game and movie.

Vincent had not been drugged quite as much as he would have expected, but it was still enough to erect a thin, hazy barrier against Galian's snarling, ferocious attempts at seizing control. His emotions were in turmoil, a churning mix of anger, hatred, fear and anticipation that created a weakness his inner demon knew how to use to free itself, and Vincent would not have been able to shore up enough resistance to control it if not for the chemicals. Maybe Galian would have the strength needed to get him out, but proper timing was crucial.

They had put him in a windowless, grey-walled cell that was divided in the center by electrified bars with undoubtedly enough voltage to cause lasting damage to a normal human metabolism. On the other side lay RedXIII, his tail adding a little to the single light bulb flickering sickly yellow overhead. Vincent didn't like not knowing the whereabouts of the others. It would make them hard to find if –when—they broke out of here.

"Red?" Vincent whispered, his voice the barest of thread, relying on his companion's heightened hearing to be perceived. The cells were under video surveillance at all times, but it was impossible to tell if they were equipped with microphones as well. It was a risk Vincent couldn't take.

Red flicked one ear in his direction as if chasing a fly and opened his good eye, turning it to him. He didn't move a single other muscle.

"Have you been sedated?"

A minute movement of the head to the sides. Vincent was relieved, but it would serve little purpose if they couldn't get out.

"I have. Until it wears off, I can't break us out," he continued. RedXIII fixed him silently, his eye asking the question he dared not voice aloud. "Be ready. When the opportunity comes, we can't hesitate."

RedXIII yawned expensively and stretched, shooting his claws and revealing a set of intimidating fangs, looking to all purposes like a cat lounging in the sun. He settled back contentedly, his eye still on his companion.

Accepting it as the answer that it was, Vincent leaned against the wall facing the door and concentrated on keeping Galian patient any way he could. He wasn't sure if the demon would be able to withstand the electric current, but it could at least bust the doors. He'd get only one try. If it failed, Hojo would make sure there would be no repeat performance.

---

The suit was glaring white. Cid had seen a few of the like in his years off-planet. They were too bright in the blackness of space and almost certainly attracted the worst sort of attention possible, the kind that came with hunger-driven fangs and one hell of a mean character.

Cid shot the soldier, jail guard, whatever-the-hell-he-was an unconvinced glare.

"I'm not wearing that stupid thing out there," he pronounced, jerking his head at the suit. If Shinra wanted to kill him, they could just do it in a bloody normal way.

The man frowned and glared like he hadn't been laid in years. Probably didn't rank very high on the hierarchy either.

"The ship's too big. The monsters don't come near it," he answered with an impatient sneer.

Cid crossed his arms and snorted. "And I'd do what in it? Stand pretty?" What the hell were they planning? Cid had brushed with the wrong side of prison bars before, but never seriously and never with Shinra. Still, he doubted this was typical protocol.

"Repairs. There're some spots on the hull that need mending."

For a moment Cid wasn't quite sure what the fuck he was supposed to say to that. It hadn't been what he'd expected. The implications quickly registered, however, and he barked a humorless laugh.

"You out of your fucking mind? I'm never going to fix a damn thing for Shinra!" he roared, outraged that they could even begin to think they could bully him into fixing one damn screw in this place.

The guard glowered at the tone, but there was the ghost of a smirk at the corners of his lips.

"Don't forget all your friends. Now put the damn suit on."

Well fuck, ok, maybe they could bully him into doing it. Cid had no damn clue what had happened to any of the others save for Tifa, but he knew Shinra probably wouldn't bat an eyelash if it came to torturing them. He wasn't going to put their resolve to the test, not when it put his friends' lives on the line.

Cursing loudly and generously, Cid yanked the suit off the bench before his fists found the idiot's face.

It turned out that they really were putting him to work tightening screws. Cid found himself among a small, legit black-clad workforce repairing loose or broken panels along the side of the hull facing the star currently being harvested. There was only one supervisor in the area, but it wasn't like Cid could flee. The gravity points in his boots were too strong to hop and he couldn't disable them. Besides, where would he go? He was fucking white. He'd be spotted immediately.

Cid gave the screw a last half-hearted twist, well aware that it still couldn't be considered tight and secured. What the hell, it'd come off eventually, but they weren't keeping exact records of what he was working on. They probably figured that the threat against his friends had cowed him enough.

It was a petty gesture, but it was the only one he could do. Cid fixed a few more loose things in the subpanel area, happily doing a half-assed job of it, then replaced a new exterior panel and began welding it into place. His line was wobbly and patchy, but it'd hold. For a while.

---

Tifa stood up the moment she heard the whisper of hydraulics hissing into action. She didn't know how much time had passed since the door had last opened for something else than a meal, but be it minutes or hours, it had her feeling restless enough that punching her way out the walls was beginning to sound like an acceptable plan.

Her fists clenched reflexively, she waited as the door cut out a bright rectangle against the evenly dark grey walls of her cell, revealing three men. The foremost guard stepped aside so that Cid could be pushed inside. The pilot cursed at them as he took two stumbling steps inside, but the door had been closed shut once again.

Tifa breathed a sigh of relief and forced the tension out of her shoulders. Every time Cid was taken out, she was left to wonder if he'd ever be brought back, and in which state. So far, they'd never kept him longer than three meals. She stepped aside so that he could let himself fall sitting on the hard bench that also served as a bed, his head thumping against the wall.

"Are you alright?" she asked although, as uncharitable as it might seem, it was not the question foremost in her mind. Since being captured, she had had no news of anybody but Cid, whom shared her cell. Cloud, Vincent, Aerith, RedXIII, even Cait Sith.

"The fuckers won't let me smoke," he growled, and she could see his jaw working as he ground his teeth.

Though her muscles twitched with the desire to move and expend energy, Tifa made herself sit down in front of Cid, studying the older man carefully. He didn't seem to be favoring any limb and his breathing was deep and slow from exhaustion. Tobacco withdrawal really was the only problem.

"Did you see anyone?" she asked next, unable to wait longer. She'd asked every time Cid came back, and the answer had always been the same.

"'Course not. As far as we know, Cloud's been stuck in a lab again, and Vincent's probably right there with him! Fuck," Cid swore, thumping his knuckles against the bench. It was a measure of his exhaustion that his temper couldn't manage more. "They're not going to let us visit them."

She wasn't surprised with the answer, but she couldn't help a twinge of disappointment. The chances that Cid would see anybody while he was put to work repairing something or another were about nonexistent, but she couldn't help hoping against all odds. It was about the only thing keeping her sane. Cid might bitch about having to work, but at least he had something to keep him busy.

"I did hear something fucking interesting, though," he continued after a while. Tifa looked up sharply. Cid was scowling something fierce, almost as if he expected to be able to drill a hole through the ceiling with his stare alone. "The mother-bloody-ship's coming here."

"Why?" Tifa didn't know what else to ask. She was reeling from the news, a thousand possibilities running through her mind and none of them pretty. She was fairly sure the coming of the central and most important vessel of Shinra's fleet here while they were imprisoned was only coincidence, but it still could only mean trouble.

"Fuck if I know," Cid grouched with a tense shrug. "If we're lucky they'll be so busy kissing ass they won't pay enough attention to us."

"We have to stay on our guard, in case an opportunity comes up," she agreed, feeling it was somewhat useless to mention, but she didn't have much else to say. Cid was an awful conversationalist.

"Did I miss the food again?" he asked suddenly. He swore in what she was pretty sure was more than one language when she nodded. "Again, damnit! You ass-sniffing bastards, you expect me to work on an empty stomach!?" he yelled at the door, but couldn't summon the energy to rise from the bench.

Tifa smiled thinly and bent low to retrieve something she'd hidden under her own bench. Both times now Cid had been taken away after the parody of a breakfast, but from what she'd gathered, they hadn't always remembered to give him lunch, and it was the second time in a row they brought him back after diner, too.

"Here. It's the only thing I could save without the guards noticing." She handed him the white bread roll that had accompanied the bland, tasteless diner they'd given her. Cid only stared for a second before grabbing it and biting hungrily. His stomach growled loudly, thanking her more clearly than the mumbled word Cid tried to enunciate around his mouthful.

---

When the guards opened the door, revealing grim-set mouths under black visors and semi-automatic muzzles, Cloud was about ready to leap out of his own skin. He'd been kept imprisoned here for longer than he'd been able to keep track off, with a few meals his stomach indicated weren't evenly distributed and nobody to communicate with. It was the first time since he'd been put in this cell that the door had even opened.

Despite the raw energy burning down his spine all to way to his toes, Cloud forced himself to stand up slowly, his movements easy and measured. He didn't speak, waiting with his hands deceptively calm at his side for them to say what the hell they wanted now. They'd taken away his weapons and materia, but he could hold his own barehanded. He'd have to.

The stillness of the moment was broken by the sharp report of a gunshot. Cloud staggered back with a groan, hands going to his belly. Had they decided to kill him, then? However, when he looked down expecting to see blood, there was only a small green-fletched dart. He yanked it out with a snarl, already feeling the concoction seeping through his muscles and numbing the edges of his senses. The world dropped a few degrees out of focus, his ears rang and his mouth filled with sawdust, but otherwise he did not fall unconscious. In fact, he realized slowly, laboriously, he did not have to fight to stay awake at all. It was like being drunk, somewhat, except he was only just connected enough with his body to move it coherently.

A guard came forward and yanked his arms back to cuff him. Cloud didn't fight, knowing even through the haze in his mind that he was beaten for now. Hopefully they'd underestimated his metabolism and he'd process the drugs faster than expected.

"Out," one of the guards ordered. Cloud couldn't tell who'd spoken. When he didn't move, two more stepped forward to grab his arms and manhandle him outside, pushing and tugging alternately. Cloud couldn't keep from staggering on more than one occasion.

The halls succeeded one another in a string of confused colors and sounds that Cloud could only just make sense of. He was aware of the constant push of the guards at his elbows, of a creeping, insidious sense of dread that would not be shut out despite the drugs, or more accurately because of them, encroaching on what little control he'd managed to keep over himself. With every step he could feel it slipping from his fingers; his heart was steadily climbing up his throat and he felt hot, too hot.

He needed to break free, drugs or no drugs.

When they crossed an inter-ship connector, Cloud's festering dread rose a notch closer to panic and he froze mid-hallway, watching the connecting hatch as if it might suddenly open and suck him in. The guards had to push and jab strong enough to bruise to get him moving again, but the only reason he eventually did so was because of the drugs.

The interior of this new ship seemed to be in better condition than the mining ship they had just left behind. Few signs of age and damage were apparent on the good-quality metals lining walls and ceiling. The adrenaline flooding his veins returned an edge to Cloud's senses he would have rather not recovered. The familiarity of the standard hallway design tugged at memories he very much needed locked up if he wanted to keep a clear head and escape.

The trek through the ship was long and provided Cloud with the time needed to regain a measure of control over himself. The halls were mostly unoccupied and he was unable to properly identify the few individuals they crossed through the drug's haze. Sometimes they called out to his guards, but most skirted them in silence.

Finally, the guards stopped before a simple door just like all the others they had passed. One of them knocked but did not wait for an answer before palming the sensor. Cloud was impatiently encouraged to step inside.

He knew to whom belonged this office, but also to what other sections it granted private access to. Drug or no drugs, a complex mix of anger, hatred, fear and a bone-deep instinct to flee surged to the surface, freezing his feet in place. It didn't matter now; the guards had already left, sealing the door behind them. Cloud was caught.

Hojo did not turn around immediately, his hunched form intent on some document or another propped against the corner of a file dresser. The fact that the guards had not had to ask for admittance meant that he had been waiting for him.

"I have to admit, I did not think you were still alive," Hojo finally said, turning a page. He cast a one-eyed assessing look over his shoulder, all business and cold assessment. "Not you, and not in such good condition."

Cloud did not speak; he knew better. He should have seen this coming. Being captured by Shinra meant that his name was back in their system; it would only have been a matter of time before Hojo saw it.

"Yet here you are." Hojo closed the file, stored it back in the dresser, and turned to Cloud. Details were blurred but, strangely, the scientist's eyes were not in the least. He hadn't changed.

He walked around his desk slowly, carefully, appraising Cloud's state. After a moment's careful consideration he reached forward and grabbed his arm, checking his pulse before he leaned up to examine his eyes. No doubt satisfied about the intensity of the effects of the drugs, he took one step back and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

"Unfortunately, I haven't worked out quite yet what to do with you first. All the other old specimens that have conveniently fallen into my lap have demanded a lot of my attention. It's very interesting how you somehow all gathered together."

He did not know that any of his companions had also been test subjects for Hojo, even if he had his suspicions in certain cases, but this brutal insinuation still caused him to jerk back ever so slightly, his chin raising before he could control it.

Hojo did not fail to notice it. A ghost of a smile stretched his lips. "You might see them in passing, some day. Maybe I will even have you interact; the exhibited behavior would be a curious study. But not today."

Hojo stepped back and opened an intercom feed. "Jorry, get in here with the sedatives." The scientist crossed his hands behind his back as he waited, his cold eyes fixed on Cloud. They showed little emotion save for curiosity and a layer of excited anticipation Cloud did not care about. He wanted to move, to attack Hojo and flee, but he was rooted to the spot. It wasn't all due to the drugs.

A moment later, another doctor came through the door almost hidden in the back corner of the room, pushing a narrow gurney before him. Two more orderlies followed.

"I think one surprise is enough from you, so I'm not taking any unnecessary chances," Hojo mused, following his underling's movements as he approached Cloud with a syringe loaded with a clear liquid. "Note the time of the injection precisely, Jorry, I want his tolerance level well documented."

He wasn't even under yet and Hojo had already dismissed him. When that Jorry doctor seized his arm, Cloud had a moment of panic and reacted, breaking his hold and lurching back in a blind desire to escape, no matter his state of awareness. The orderlies that had come along were quick to grab him. Cloud managed to break free once more, but not before the doctor had stabbed the syringe in the back of his shoulder. The world quickly faded away.

---

"You alright?"

"-'m fine."

"Thought so. Alright, let's try that again."

"…You know, I don't think a body is supposed to be able to pull that off."

"Sure it can! I'm a shining example of it."

"Maybe, but you aren't normal."

"Thanks. And it just made it easier for me, I know you can still do it."

"Fine, but it'll take me years."

"I have faith in you! Besides, I can't afford years."

"What?"

"I gotta have someone at my back. Someone I can trust."

"But—"

"I'm pushy, I'm sorry, but I know you can do it. I need you now more than ever, Cloud."

"I—"

---

Waking up from the drugged sleep was like battling against thick syrup to reach the surface. Cloud made his way up slowly, letting himself drift. He wasn't sure why, but he felt safer here. He knew he couldn't remain in this sleepy half-state, but reluctance currently outweighed urgency.

The dream had been strange. It had begun normally, reenacting an old scene of life he hadn't thought of in a long time, yet it had…slipped, at the end. That conversation wasn't supposed to finish like that. It could be only fancy, but the more aware Cloud became, the more worried he grew.

He eventually opened his eyes, dreading what he would see but wanting to face it regardless. There was a pane of glass before him, circling him in a tight enough semi-circle that he would not be able to lie down and stretch to his full length. The familiar shapes of a research laboratory greeted him on the other side.

He was back in a tank.

A rush of panic surged like acid in his throat and he had to fight his instincts not to jump at the glass and try to break it down with his bare hands. It would be specially made to resist his heightened strength, and the less he gave them, the better. His muscles tense to the point of pain, Cloud forced himself to sit up slowly, leaning his back against the back of the tank. It was warm but provided no more comfort than if it had been cold.

Someone was moving in the back of the room, probably a man from his posture and gait, which was also too straight-backed to be Hojo. He eventually made his way to the tank, a pen already scribbling furiously on a notepad. No doubt Cloud's vitals were being monitored around the clock; the scientist had undoubtedly noticed his moment of panic. Making himself breathe deeply and slowly was a chore that made him feel like he was drowning a little, but he endured it until his heart rate followed suit.

The scientist never looked up from his writing. He seemed nervous. Cloud rose to his feet; the movement drew the young man's attention. He looked up and met Cloud's stare, but his eyes were a little too wide, his jaw too tight around its neutral expression to be credible. He broke contact quickly and escaped back to the deeper confines of the room.

The short exchange had still given Cloud useful information. His previous years of similar confinement were a blurry, half-clear, half-unknown patchwork of memories, but he knew that Hojo had let only a few of his underlings participate in his human experiments, and only sporadically. This one was too skittish to fit Hojo's preferred candidates.

That nervousness also gave Cloud a measure of superiority over him. He still didn't know how he would be able to use it to his advantage, but it was worth cultivating. The slightest slip would be all he needed to escape. Cloud settled back and waited for the right moment.

It was impossible to calculate time precisely, as the assistant came to and fro irregularly, but Cloud was sure that a full day had not yet passed before Hojo finally made an appearance. It was not panic but hatred that flared at the hunched man's sight, balling Cloud's hands in tight, trembling fists. Yet Hojo didn't come near the tank. He fussed over a small control panel, completely ignoring his experiment.

Something began whirring over Cloud's head, a low, ominous sound. Stale air that pricked the back of his throat drifted from the top of the tank, creating a slight current that ruffled his hair. Cloud knew what this heralded. Just a few seconds later cold, bright green mako steam began filling the tank.

He should have expected something like this. Hojo was obsessed with mako and its effects on all types of living beings, especially humans. As soon as it touched his skin, the mako steam activated the one mingling with his blood. The sensation was like dunking his limbs in hot water when they'd been near freezing. It was painful yet promised a world of new and improved sensations. Cloud staggered back against the back of the tank, breathing as shallowly as he could. It was no use; his lungs were filling up with the steam, with hot ash that burned and clogged his airways.

The steam's density was kept low, but it was still enough to gradually deconstruct his mind like a child carefully picking apart a toy. Cloud resisted, but he felt himself slipping. As he fought the inexorable effects, he noticed that Hojo had come nearer and was now studying his reaction intently. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Cloud lunged at the outer pane of glass, his fists crashing against the smooth surface. It did not yield, and Hojo only crooked a slight smile. Enraged, terrorized and increasingly confused, Cloud pounded against the glass with all his might until all rational thoughts dissolved, bringing reality down with them.

At first it was only a series of hushed whispers, like the barest of breeze rustling tall grass. He let it wrap around him, cocooning and abating the rage he did not understand the origin of anymore. At first it was soothing, but as the whispers grew into mumbling voices ushering barely recognizable words, they began to feel invasive. The words drowned out the remaining shreds of his own thoughts, pushing them aside and taking their place with an odd insistence that felt more and more like an inquisition. It confused and repulsed him, yet he was not sure if he should try and resist. What would he be protecting?

The voices became shouts as they pushed deeper, grabbing at him and tugging to make him one of them. That he did resist, although he didn't know how. Somewhere, a little voice that might just be his own knew that he would disappear if he let them take him.

Time was impossible to evaluate, but he felt like it had been only a short time before something like a high-pitched, agonizing shriek joined the mess of shouts. Pain instantly flared through him, reaching places he did not even know existed. All the other voices were muted now, faded into the background of this new invader. His own little voice was almost completely shredded, its pieces cast off into the mass to be swallowed and destroyed.

It sank fire-tipped claws in his mind, ripping it apart as it searched, explored, invaded. He could do nothing to resist it, to stop its attack. When it had found what it wanted it stopped but did not retreat, making itself comfortable. It was like cradling burning coal.

"There you are."

Its voice was an explosion right in his skull. He screamed voicelessly, tried to escape it, but it was in too deep. It did not let him go.

"You are mine now. He will not find you. He will not save you."

TBC