Prologue

NB: I pulled this one to repost as 3rd person, not 1st. Sometimes you just write yourself into a hole...! Eternal thanks to Pollywantsa for helping me dig my way out... I'm not sure what I'd do without her!

'Have you noticed that some of the worst scrapes we ever find ourselves in start out as apparently innocuous good deeds? Others, however, are situations that are doomed right out of the starting gate…'

'You do realise,' Kei told Harlock with one of her I-have-the-patience-of-a-saint sighs 'that there's really no difference between those scenarios, beyond whether or not you get caught with your pants down or not? And since you kind of fly by the seat of them anyway, why even worry about it?'

They were standing across the square from a large podium that stood on the south side of the old marketplace in the capital - and any visitor would use the word loosely - city of a planet called Margrave. Population barely ten thousand, after two wars and a galaxy-wide plague had swept it clean. Like most such planets, it had become easy pickings for the more organised groups that preyed on the defenceless and liked out of the way places to conduct business with plenty of abandoned infrastructure and very few locals to interfere. This far out, the Space Defence Force rarely ventured. There wasn't enough traffic or population to make it worth their while, which is why the goods on sale on the aforementioned podium were being openly flaunted. They'd actually come this way following the too-cold trail left by Harlock's young cousin Tadashi, who'd gone missing about eighteen months ago, but they weren't going to miss the opportunity to cut this particular branch of a trade the crew of Arcadia really, really hated off at the knees.

Harlock leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, and tried to look inconspicuous - something he managed far better than Kei did. Margrave was a warm planet, and the blue silk tunic she wore over her trousers matched the brilliant cobalt blue of her eyes, in addition to flowing and clinging to her trim, shapely curves as she stared at her prey. Her golden hair gleamed in the sun, escaping in wispy tendrils from a ponytail, that she had to brush out of her eyes when the breeze caught them. Harlock was pretty sure the whiplashed bystanders weren't suffering because he was turning heads, which suited him just fine. Complain all she liked about his dressing like a scruffy spacer when they pulled these stunts, she couldn't argue that if people were staring at her, they didn't notice what he was up to. Which, right at this moment, was casing the area to see how they could liberate the merchandise with the least amount of collateral damage…

'We're too late today,' Kei pointed out. She nodded in the direction of the auction block. 'There's just one left.'

Sure enough the pen under the sagging wooden platform was empty, the last occupant being dragged up the steps as they watched. Harlock sighed. Somedays, he couldn't catch a break. Then he took a second look, and pushed himself off the wall, leaning forward to get a closer look. 'Well, well… someone's going to catch heat for this one…' he murmured. 'That's a Gamilan!'

The young man being unceremoniously hauled in front of the rather lacklustre audience was indeed a rarity in this galaxy - the Gamilans were descended from a group that had spread out from one of Earth's earliest diasporas to colonise the Greater Magellanic Cloud. Neither Harlock nor Kei knew much about that galaxy - they'd not been caught up in either the Homecoming War over a century ago, or in the more recent Machine Wars - but they had seen a couple of displaced citizens over the years. Genetic engineering had led to two distinct new "races" - one green skinned, one blue, and by all accounts - because humans never learn - the two disliked each other intensely purely on that basis alone. The reason they hadn't gotten involved in the recent wars was apparently because the two sides were always at each other's throats...

'Trafficking Gamilan citizens?' Harlock continued quietly. 'Tut tut. That could land them in a world of hurt. I've heard stories about their leader.' He watched the man carefully as the auctioneer began his spiel, and sauntered casually over towards the crowd to get a closer look. His age, he guessed, or maybe close to how old he looked, so he could have been anywhere between his early twenties and thirty-something. Golden hair curled down almost to his shoulders, damp elflocks framing a face which bordered on almost angelically handsome even sporting a few days' worth of golden stubble, and his skin sported several bruises turning glorious shades of a deep turquoise-blue, purple and green. About Harlock's height - a shade over six foot. They'd stripped him to the waist (although luckily for him they'd left his pants on), and several healing cuts marred the skin on his broad shoulders and washboard abs, as well as one chiselled cheekbone. He stood quietly, almost passively, but something in that pose… head lowered, eyes apparently downcast, didn't look right. In fact, it looked rather familiar...

'He must be terrified,' Kei whispered in his right ear. 'Poor lad, he's shaking.'

Harlock took in the tension in those shoulders, the clenched fists below the wrist manacles, the way that sensual cupid's bow mouth twitched into a tight line as the auctioneer touted the delights of his frame as he squeezed a bicep.

'That's not fear.' Harlock took a step into the crowd, ignoring Kei tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket. 'Fear my arse. That is pure, unadulterated fury…' And he really needed to do something before it was unleashed, he thought to himself. Not out of consideration for the crowd - if you were bidding at a slave auction you pretty much had it coming as far as he was concerned - but that kind of trouble would bring the authorities, and this time he wasn't in the market for a confrontation.

Bidding was slow - this probably wasn't the best market for these operators, but he had a feeling they were cutting their losses. One slimy piece of blubber bid four hundred credits.

'Five hundred!' Harlock called out, as he forced his way to the front of the crowd. The Gamilan gave him a murderous glare, but he smiled vacantly and turned his attention to the auctioneer. No-one seemed to be in a hurry to raise the price. 'Come on, I haven't got all day,' he drawled lazily, 'It's not as though you're going to get a better price today, and we both know he isn't worth putting back on your ship to wait for the next batch.'

The man standing next to him cleared his throat. 'More like he can't shift him 'cause he laid out five of those guards earlier,' he sniggered hoarsely. 'Looks mighty purty, and you'd get some work out of him with those muscles, but that kind o' 'tude just ain't worth the trouble.' Harlock was about to spout some bullshit about that being rather neighbourly of him, when he had to go and add: ''sides, ye'd hafta geld 'im. Only way t'e keep these uppity bluefellas in check, right?'

Kei's voice buzzed in his in-ear comms. 'Not worth it…' she muttered. 'Stay on mission…'

'I'm going to need a very long shower,' he muttered back as he took his hand off the butt of his cosmo dragoon.

'Six hundred!' the slug called out. He leered at Harlock, then eyed him up and down as though he were the one on the block. Harlock casually placed his hand on the butt of his pistol again and the slug glanced away, flushing.

'Seven.' Harlock drawled out the number as though it meant nothing, but mentally he was trying to remember what state the credit chit Kei carried was in. They had been spreading money around like water to try and find Tadashi, with no results, which was bad luck for this bunch of slavers because he was worried, pissed off and ready for a fight. To hell with inconspicuous. They'd do nicely to work off some frustrations.

'Eight!' Slug smirked at him and licked his fat lips. 'What do you want him for?' he called out. He sniggered, the effort making parts of him wobble disturbingly. 'From the look of that piece on your arm, you don't need him in your bed…'

Laughter from the audience. 'A thousand,' Harlock replied calmly, enjoying the look on the slug's face. He hopefully didn't play poker. It was obvious he was coming close to his limit. But so were they judging from the grip on his forearm. She did have strong fingers. 'Who says he's for me? The little lady's always complaining I never buy her anything useful, and she never shares!'

More laughter from the onlookers, Kei's fingers digging holes in his arm, and an under-lidded death glare from the captive on the platform. Harlock met that cold fury with the tiniest shake of his head, hoping he'd catch it.

The Gamilan's eyes widened a barely perceptible fraction, and he quickly buried that anger so fast under a faked despairing slump, plastering a look of such abject resignation over his too-handsome face that Harlock almost wanted to applaud, although the part of himself that had spent far too long under cover wanted to give him some sage advice about not over-egging his performance.

The auctioneer had given up and knocked the Gamilan down to him for the princely sum of a thousand credits, and the pirate had to stroll towards him trying to keep his hand off his pistol and remind himself that he wanted to roll up this entire operation, not just rescue one man. Then he had to call Kei over, because she was holding onto the bulk of the money they'd been planning to spread around for bribes. And just like that he was the proud "owner" of about 180 pounds of pissed-off blue humanity.

'I gather you speak standard?' Harlock asked as he led him away towards a convenient side street, in the direction of the edge of town where they'd left the bullet craft.

'A little. Not since... school. Picked up… on transport… travelling… several weeks...'

The stuttering delivery was a nice touch. Harlock couldn't help it. He laughed, especially when he saw the flash of annoyance on the man's face, quickly smoothed away into a beautiful attempt at "puzzled and upset". 'Nice try, but your diction gives you away. Oh - and if you want people to fall for the innocent boy-next-door charm offensive, it helps not to unleash a death-glare on the bystanders,' he added helpfully. Once out of sight of any casual or otherwise onlookers, he got to work on the shackles. 'Sorry for the delay, but I don't want to draw too much attention.' He dropped them to the dusty ground with a clank, and wiped his hands on his pants. 'Filthy things.'

Despite what Kei and certain other members of his crew claimed, he hadn't been born yesterday and he wasn't an easy mark. It was the simplest thing to turn his hip so the Gamilan's hand missed the butt of his pistol, and catch the man's hip at just the right angle so that his own momentum flipped him over Harlock's shoulder and he landed in a heap, staring up the barrels of both their pistols. 'Shall we try that again, you ungrateful little sod?' Harlock asked amiably. He holstered his pistol and offered his hand. 'I'm Yama, this is Kei, and if you want a gun and your freedom that badly, we'll happily see you on your way with both - after a good meal and we find you some clothes.' He waited, his hand still outstretched, until it was finally taken in a strong grip, and he hauled its owner to his feet. 'Do you have a name?'

The young man hesitated - very slightly. 'Ben' he said eventually, in a voice so deep and velvety smooth that Harlock sighed inwardly, rather glad the complement of potentially susceptible crewmembers on this run was in single figures. 'Just who are you people?'

'I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said innocent bystanders?' Harlock replied. The eye-rolling that earned him from his new acquaintance was, he supposed, deserved. He rummaged in a pocket for his eyepatch and tied it into place with some relief. Contrary to some reports it didn't cover a gaping hole, but his right eye hadn't worked too well since a nanocam he'd foolishly allowed to be spliced onto his cornea over ten years ago had been fried by the same blaster shot that sliced his left cheek open, leaving the jagged scar it still sported. 'How about you come back to our ship, and we'll discuss it over dinner?'

'Shouldn't you be ordering me to accompany you?'

Harlock rather liked the touch of sardonic amusement "Ben" put into that question. As though he thought Harlock was such an idiot he didn't know how to treat the slave he'd just bought. But two could play at that game. Harlock snapped his fingers. 'I could, but… I was forgetting. Kei?' He held out his hand for the papers she was holding onto, and then handed them to Ben. 'I suppose these are yours? Keep them as a souvenir, burn them...whatever. I certainly don't want them.'

Ben took them and stared at them for a moment as though Harlock had handed him a live snake, then made short work of tearing them into confetti.

'Litterbug,' Harlock muttered, as he scattered the pieces on the ground. Kei sighed, turned on her heel and began striding off towards their ride. 'Aren't you going to give me a hand here?' Harlock called out.

'You rescued him…' she called back over her shoulder, 'take the responsibility!'

Harlock wasn't quite sure what their guest thought of him chuckling all the way to where they'd parked the bullet, but he had a feeling it probably wasn't complementary. 'Long story,' he managed to get out eventually. 'Hang around long enough on board the Arcadia, someone's bound to tell it.'

'Arcadia?' As they reached the open ramp of the bullet Ben caught Harlock's sleeve and tugged him to a halt, giving him a much harder eyeballing than he had earlier. 'Captain Harlock's ship? The Captain Harlock?' Harlock smirked as he watched Ben's gaze linger on his face… eyepatch… scar… He could almost see the cogs turning.

'The very same,' he replied blithely. He waited. He loved this bit, when the penny dropped.

'Huh.' Ben smiled, the expression so loaded with innocence Harlock immediately distrusted it. 'You know… I thought you were taller…'

At that point Harlock really wished he'd not been so hellbent on being incognito, because a dramatic turn on the heel to stride up the ramp wearing that weighty monstrosity of a gravity cloak would have been so satisfying, as it knocked the Gamilan onto his perfectly formed arse.

Mercifully, the hangar deck was almost empty when they landed, so he didn't have to face explaining his latest recruit to the crew just yet. "Almost" however meant that he was faced with the sight of Ali's backside, as he shifted boxes onto a small loader off the back end of one of the work boats.

On closer inspection he revised that to simply "messing around with the contents of one box".

It was physically impossible to sneak up on anyone on the hangar deck if you were wearing metal-soled boots, but whatever Ali was doing was so absorbing he completely ignored his captain until Harlock was right beside him. 'The rest of those won't load themselves,' Harlock said quietly in Ali's left ear. Ali leapt upright as though Harlock had stuck a pistol in his ear.

'Dammit, Captain!' Strangely, he turned his back on Harlock straight away, flushing slightly, judging by the rising colour between his collar and his hairline. But not before Harlock saw something suspicious. 'Oughta put a bell on you…' he grumbled.

'Or you could pay more attention,' Harlock pointed out. 'What are you up to?'

'Me?'

He couldn't sound innocent if he tried, and Harlock had no idea why he bothered. And his attempts to fold his arms over the increasingly agitated squirming lumps under his sweater were laughably inept. Harlock grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face him. 'You. What's under there, Ali? I sent you and Luna down for medical supplies... '

'Nutthin.'

'Hmmm.' Harlock grabbed the zip of his sweater and gave it a tug, pulling it down over both Ali's chest and his blustering protestations. 'Hey! You could at least buy me dinner first,' Ali grumbled as his captain stuck his hand into the front. It didn't take much rummaging to make contact with something small, damp and furry. Harlock's hand came up holding a small bedraggled kitten, which hissed and miaowed at him ferociously as he held it. Three other small lumps mewed piteously and another small head popped out of the opening just above the zipper.

'Ali…'

'Had to give 'em a bath first. They were crawlin… and needed somewhere warm to dry off.'

'They're far too young to be without their mother,' Harlock pointed out. The tiny tabby in his hand crawled up his arm, snuggled itself into his armpit, and started to purr.

'Oh. Well. Luna took her to sick bay. See, these louts were kicking her around, chucking stones, so whilst I gave them a bloody pasting, she went chasing down this alleyway… found her under a pile of boxes, in a bad way.'

'Softy,' Harlock accused. Ali smirked at him.

'Who's cuddling that one then?' he shot back. Then he saw their new guest. 'See you've been rescuing strays as well…'

'Oh… he didn't rescue me,' Ben sauntered over and offered a hand, which was shaken warily. 'He bought me,' he added breezily, and stood beside Harlock, smiling beatifically as though butter wouldn't melt in that smirking mouth.

'Bought?' Ali ended that single word on a note so high even the kitten in his captain's armpit twitched an ear.

Harlock shrugged with his best what-can-you-say look, and waited. The new recruit didn't disappoint. 'Umm. Apparently he was in the market for a sex-slave, saw me on the block and just couldn't resist…' He raked Ali from head to toe and back again with a lazy smile, then folded his arms and sighed. 'And if you're anything to go by, not a moment too soon. Unless he likes that aging spacer trash aesthetic you've got going there…'

'Why you…'

Harlock moved between them swiftly and placed a hand on Ali's chest, well above maximum kitten depth. 'Whoa. You have passengers. Get them to Luna…' he popped his own little passenger into Ali's front and zipped him up again. 'And grab Cai for me will you? He's least likely to rise to the trolling…' Ali grumbled, leaving only after jabbing a finger in Ben's general direction and mouthing "later" at him. Harlock turned his attention back to Ben. 'And you… what was that?' He had his suspicions, but was curious to know how honest he'd be.

Ben shrugged, winced, and rubbed one bruised shoulder. 'You can always spot the troublemakers. Best to make your stand first. Plus I did wonder how someone like you…'

Harlock tried really hard not to bristle. He should have been used to being underestimated by now, and he worked hard at being inoffensive when it suited him. He was however the end result of over fifteen hundred years of natural selection favouring prideful pirates, knights, warriors, wanderers and general all-round hard cases, and sometimes nature triumphed over nurture.

'...handles that kind and captains a pirate ship. Watching you and that gorgeous piece you were with, one could be forgiven for thinking she was the one in charge. That bruiser looks as though he could have torn you to pieces without breaking a sweat, but he backed down straight away.'

'Not with a sweater full of kittens he wouldn't,' Harlock pointed out. 'And if you don't want to lose vital organs, do not ever again refer to Kei as a "piece", or she'll redefine that noun for you with visual aids torn from your still quivering body. I wouldn't normally warn you, but we just had the floors cleaned. And if she leaves enough of you to get mouthy again, I'll be the one dismembering what she doesn't…'

Ben smiled, the gesture as dazzling and incandescent as anything Harlock's predecessor had ever unleashed on an unwary passer-by, often described as capable of snapping knicker elastic at anything from fifty to a hundred paces on any gender or sexual orientation, but by that time the pirate had given genetics a free rein and Ben's smile faltered slightly in the face of over a thousand years of inbred stoicism. Only slightly, however. Harlock had to hand it to him, the Gamilan bounced back far more quickly than he had in his youth, which suggested he had almost as much to hide, and had learned the hard way how to do it. It took one to know one…

Harlock had a policy of don't ask when it came to the crew's pasts, beyond some basic discreet background checks (because despite the bad press Harlock got from the Alliance, he did have standards…), but he really wanted to unpick this guy. The mixed messages he was getting reminded him of Kei's description of him when he'd first come on board; he wavered between seeing only a rather entitled pretty-boy way out of his depth, and something much harder under the blond curls and perfect body.

Maybe it was the latter… despite the battering Ben had taken, he was far too perfect. His standard had the precise diction that could be heard in many a Martian ballroom; Harlock would happily wager those hands, despite cuts and bruises from a recent fight, had never seen a day's hard work - they were smooth, uncalloused, and the nails were only a few weeks distant from their last manicure. Those golden curls were growing out from an expensive layered cut, and his body, although well sculpted, was that of someone who spent more time in the gym than working for a living. But he moved well, like a dancer. Or martial artist. But if the latter, he was all mat, no combat experience, or he'd never have tipped the Gamilan over with that hip check earlier.

Makes you wonder what he's doing all the way out here to get caught?

'Reading my mind again, Tochiro?' Harlock kept his reply sub-voc so as not to alarm their latest (possible) recruit.

Not hard. He's a bit of an enigma, isn't he?

'He's a player,' Harlock replied with a snort. 'That I can work out without breaking a sweat.'

Takes one to know one? Tochiro giggled.

Harlock sighed. 'You know, Kei tells me I'm woefully transparent,' he reminded his genius loci.

It was Tochiro's turn to snort. That's because she'd string you up by your testicles if you ever tried to play her again. With everyone else you totally get off on playing up to their expectations - or confounding them. In that regard, the apple didn't fall very far from the family tree…

'You have a point…'

Cai arrived to take Ben off his hands, and Harlock left it to his crewman to escort his latest acquisition to medical, hauling himself off to his quarters to go over what he and Kei had found out earlier.

Several pounds of muscle and feathers landed on his right shoulder before he'd even gone ten feet from the hangar doors, and kept up a running commentary in his ear all the way back to the captain's room, the big black bird letting him know in no uncertain terms what it felt about being left behind when its perch was out having all the fun. It only shut up and settled down to preen just as Harlock turned the corner to face the enormous wooden doors of the captain's stern-facing cabin.

The mysterious Ben would just have to wait a while.