as the turn of the worlds
book one: objects in space
chapter twelve: into the black
"There's something not right here... I feel cold. Death."
"That place is strong with the dark side of the Force. A domain of evil it is. In it, you must go."
"What's in there?"
"Only what you take with you."
-Luke Skywalker and Yoda, the Empire Strikes Back
(on the tower-class spaceship prospero)
"Their trajectory leaves little doubt as to their destination, sir," the navigator said. "Both the Cutter and the Firefly are making for Beaumonde."
"Good," Zhao replied. "If it comes to fighting, don't hesitate to destroy the Cutter. We need the Firefly, and the fewer opponents we have, the better."
"Sir?" the navigator began uncertainly. "Our intelligence is almost certain that the prince is on the Cutter."
"Of course," Zhao said lightly, "but he's been exiled, and the princess is being groomed to take the throne whenever the Fire Lord passes - " which would be sooner rather than later, if he and Azula had anything to say about it " - and the cargo on the Firefly is far more important than a banished prince."
"What could possibly be - "
"That's above your pay grade, Marten," Zhao snapped, and the navigator turned back to the controls immediately. Azula was right - people were so much easier to deal with when they were terrified of you. He'd have to listen to her advice more often. That disgraced fool of a prince Iroh had insisted that he "understand" his men and treat them like a father might treat a son. Well, Iroh had tried and failed completely to take Persephone from the Independent forces, but when Zhao - and his "nasty treatment" - came in, the planet was under Alliance control in two weeks, which Zhao saw as proof of concept for his plans.
When the Fire Lord had told him that the contents of the box were extremely sensitive, he had gone searching on his own for what that might contain - luckily, he had an ace up his sleeve in the form of the beautiful young Princess Azula (whom he would formally court, once this was over), an ace who had been tailing her uncle's similar research and followed him to his conclusion.
"It's the Avatar," she'd told him, "and I want you to bring him to me."
Of course, the Fire Lord had told him to bring the box directly to him without going to anyone else or even telling them what they were looking for (besides the Fire Lord's disgraced older brother), but Zhao wasn't stupid. He saw the writing on the wall: Ozai's time was coming to an abrupt close, that little hiccup with Zuko's xiao tà itai notwithstanding. It was clear that Azula was moving her pieces into play, and Zhao didn't mind being one of those pieces.
Besides, he was playing her just as completely as she was playing him. She was young, and had a thing for older men, and as long as he kept her interested in his body, she was putty in his hands.
He smirked. It was just a matter of time before he had the Avatar and the princess in his possession.
(on freedom)
"Captain," Longshot said, voice echoing through the halls, "can you come up here?"
Jet looked up at the speaker, and then glanced at the poker game that he was currently losing at the dinner table (Mai was slaughtering all of them; damn that woman's poker face!) and shrugged. "Looks like we have to call it quits, boys," he drawled, and tossed the coin he had lost over to the smirking Companion. Never let it be said, he thought, that Jet didn't know how to lose with grace.
He bounced up the stairs onto the bridge, where Bee was sitting (somewhat awkwardly) with Longshot. They were both pale. "What is it?" he asked, and Longshot turned to him, then pointed to something on the monitor.
"A stationary ship, seventy degrees that way," he said.
"So? This is pretty well-traveled space," Jet replied, trying to be calm. There were very, very few reasons that Longshot would call him in for something like this.
"Sir," Bee said hoarsely, "they're flying without core containment."
Jet's blood froze - that was suicide. He looked at Bee and Longshot, and saw that they had made the same connection he had. He took a deep breath, and nodded, then took the intercom and pressed the open all button. "This is your captain speaking," he said into the microphone. "We're coming up on a ship, looks like it might be Reavers. They aren't moving, might not be hungry, so I want you to remain calm. Mai - the infirmary, you know what to do."
It was grisly, but Mai was the only person he trusted to be cool-headed enough to do it - fill out overdoses of morphine in the vials set aside for just this occasion. If all else failed, if the ship was boarded and they couldn't fight them off, then no Reavers would get the satisfaction of killing them.
"What do you want us to do, sir?" Bee asked, and Jet crossed his arms, staring hard into the black space outside the window.
"Wait," he replied quietly. "They might not attack. We wait and see what they do."
"Reavers?" Aang repeated the word in confusion, and Katara turned to Haru, who looked just as lost as she felt. Reavers were a myth! They weren't supposed to be - Mai swept into the room, paler than usual.
"Mai - he's joking, right?" she asked, knowing already that Jet wouldn't joke about this. Haru looked from Mai to Katara.
"Reavers? That's a campfire story they tell to scare little kids into being good!" he cried. "What kind of joke is this?"
"It's not a joke," Mai snapped, moving Aang over and taking out a little bag filled with vials and began rooting around the Infirmary. "Haru, where is the morphine?"
"Morphine? Why do we - " he trailed off, staring in horror at Mai. Katara felt faint all of a sudden.
"Is this really that dangerous?" she asked weakly, and Mai swallowed.
"I'll tell you what Bee told me the first time we came across them," she said quietly. "If they take the ship, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing, and if we're very lucky... they'll do it in that order."
Katara gripped the counter for support, and then closed her eyes tightly. "If that's the case, then let me help," she said softly, and pulled out the box of morphine vials that they kept in case someone needed surgery. "Why is this your job?" she asked, drawing enough morphine into each empty vial to kill a grown man. "You're not even part of the crew."
"I'm the only one he trusts to do it," she replied, and that single sentence held so many unsaid things that it made Katara ache. Aang tugged on her sleeve, confused and scared.
"Bad," she told him, since he hadn't yet learned enough of the language to comprehend what Mai had said.
"Danger?" he asked, and she nodded. He swallowed and walked out of the room, a strange look on his face.
"Where's he going?" Haru asked, and Katara shook her head.
"I don't... I don't know, he barely ever leaves the Infirmary..."
Toph was tinkering with the engine. Not because it needed tinkering, but because the word Reavers sent chills of horror spiking through her body and she had to do something or else she'd go completely bonkers. That was one of the problems about being in the black - she couldn't feel other ships, she didn't know who (or what) else might be waiting out there.
Reavers scared Toph, in a way that nothing else did. They were men - she'd felt them moving on distant towns and screamed for the crew to leave stat a few times before, and they had heartbeats and two feet and two arms and a head and a torso - but they were, at the same time, completely and utterly removed from humanity. The things they did to people, the mangled bodies they left behind, the empty, blood-splattered streets and upturned lives at the towns, the way she could feel all the people's things tossed aside and tripped over and trampled through in their haste to escape - it all turned her blood to ice and wound her stomach in anxious knots.
So she was tinkering.
"Toph," a voice said, and she tilted her head. It was the Avatar - no, wait, his name was Aang, Katara had told her - standing at the door to the engine room.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, too fast for him to understand. He was still in the early stages of learning the language.
"Toph," he repeated fervently, and walked over, touching her cheek. She tried not to recoil. "Danger. Benders."
"How do you know that?" she asked, and, this close, she could feel him furrow his brow like he was trying to decipher her question.
"See - earth," he said, sounding frustrated. "You - bend - earth," he managed to say, and then huffed angrily. It couldn't be fun, she thought, feeling his heart pounding in his chest with his annoyance, to know things but be unable to communicate them. She nodded, even though she didn't know how he could possibly have known that about her unless he'd been talking to Iroh.
"Yes," she replied slowly. "Yes, I bend earth." It still sounded strange. She felt him smile - she liked being in contact with people, it gave her a chance to actually see them - and then it hit her that that was why he was touching her face. He had realized, or been told, that she saw through touch, and was showing her his expressions. She gaped at him.
He wanted her to trust him, so he was giving her the chance to see him completely.
"Katara - " he said, and then bit his lip. With his other hand, he mimed drinking, and then huffed again. "Koi," he said suddenly, and Toph was confused. Katara was a type of fish? "Saan." He growled, then mimed drinking again.
"Water?" she asked, "Katara - Katara bends water?"
She felt him brighten and nod. "Katara - water bend."
"I didn't - how did you know that?" she asked, reaching up and taking his small hand. She felt his heart pounding, and then he tugged on it and pulled her through the ship. "Where are we going? Aang - uh, crap, what was - bindouh?" she asked, and she felt him turn.
"Wait," he said. "Come."
He pulled her through the near silent ship until they reached the passenger dorms, and opened Iroh's door. "Hello," Iroh said evenly, seemingly unfazed by the Reavers. "Aang, is something wrong?"
Aang nodded, and then pointed at Toph. "Toph, earth," he said, and then pointed to Iroh, "fire," and then he pointed in the vague direction of the Infirmary, "Katara, water." He pointed at himself then, and mimed flying.
"Air?" Toph asked, finally picking up on Aang's plan. Aang was gathering the benders together so they could put up a fight against the Reavers. "Kid, you're smarter than you look... Grandpa, don't you see?" she asked, laughing a little out of nerves. "He's putting together a fighting force to protect the ship."
"That's a good idea, Aang," Iroh said, and Toph felt him smile through the hand she was still holding.
Jet stared at the ship as it passed in the distance, and it didn't seem to be coming for them. After a long, tense moment, Longshot said, "They aren't chasing," and he sighed in relief.
"We're clear," he said into the intercom, and he could almost feel the palpable relief fall over his ship. He hung up the microphone and glanced at the window. "For now," he added, to Bee and Longshot. "They might get hungry again."
"You think they'll follow us, sir?"
"Beaumonde is well-defended," Longshot said, "but they might wait for us."
"That's a lot of trouble for one meal," Bee mused, but Jet shook his head.
"They don't hunt for food, they hunt for sport," he explained, agitated, still watching the distant ship warily. "If they think we'd be fun to chase, they'll attack us."
"So, what's our plan, sir?" Bee asked, crossing her arms, and he took a deep breath.
"For now, nothing. I'll tell Mai to keep the - the morphine," he said, a little uncomfortable with the thought. It was morbid, but necessary; he just didn't like to think about that possibility. "Just in case they come back. I'll also tell Toph to get her Big Bertha and Maria Mark Three ready," he continued, pacing a little. "We can set those up in the cargo bay and make a barricade, so in case they board us..."
"We'll have some cover and a place to shoot from," Bee inferred for him, and then shook her head. "Sir, that's dangerous - such heavy artillery in the black? Won't that depressurize the ship?"
"Might," he conceded, "but if me and Pipsqueak are manning the weapons, we can wear suits in case that happens. The rest of you can be sealed in the main body of the ship."
"But that's suicide, sir," Bee said, standing up and looking him straight in the eye. "For you and Pipsqueak."
"Keeps the rest of you safe, don't it?" he replied, challenging her. "Bee, I don't like the thought anymore than you do, but - " he hesitated; this was difficult, facing down the one person who knew all of his deepest, darkest secrets " - but I protect my own," he said finally, voice soft. "And I will die to do that, if I must."
She sobered at that, and glanced at Longshot. "One concession," she said quietly.
"What is that?"
"Don't do that to Pipsqueak," she said firmly. "You go down that path, I will be by your side."
"Bee - " Longshot said suddenly, and Jet shook his head.
"Bee, I won't - "
"With all due respect, sir," she snapped, in full Military Mode. "This is my decision," she told both of them. Jet blinked hard - he'd almost forgotten, in the years since the war, how loyal Bee was in the face of dangers that would make the most daring man turn tail and run. "I've followed you this far, Jet," she continued sincerely. "I'm not about to leave you now."
He looked at Longshot, whose face was closed off from him, and then to Bee, whose eyes were steel-hard, and nodded. "All right."
"Longshot," she croaked, but he wouldn't look at her, simply keying in a few coordinates and staring hard at the console. "I have to do this."
"It's fine," he replied tightly. "I'm just the husband, don't mind me."
She swallowed hard. Oh, why was her life always so complicated? Couldn't they understand that she loved both her husband and her Captain? She would never cheat on Longshot, never dream of kissing another man, she loved him so much it hurt, but what she felt for Jet could only be considered a form of love, the kind of bond that formed over years of shared suffering and loyalty. Jet understood, but Longshot hadn't been to war, he'd been a supply pilot, refusing to get involved with the killing of people.
She loved that about him, that he was still unmarred by the scars that still crisscrossed her heart - but she wished, now, that he had some kind of experience with the bonds forged in the fires of war, so he could understand why she could love him desperately and still be willing to die with Jet.
"Longshot - " she said, and then lower, "Marcus," the name only she knew he still held close to his heart like a talisman. He was named for his father, his father who was taken by Reavers, holding off a whole crew of them to give his son time to take to the skies and flee in desperation. Marcus was the name that Longshot had stopped going by when his father had been carved up by Reavers - he hadn't considered himself worthy of the name. She thought he was more than worthy enough, but she respected him enough to understand. "Please, understand. I love you, I do, that's why I have to do this. I have to protect this ship - you, all of the people on it, you're all I've got."
He didn't answer, looking away from her for the longest moment, and then he stood up and began to walk away, leaving her empty at the console. He stopped at the door and glanced back at her. "My name is Longshot," he whispered, and then was gone.
Bee closed her eyes.