Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.
Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.
Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.
Thank you guys for reading! You know - I've been noticing a lot of people faving and putting on alerts for this story! I'm so thankful to all you readers and be sure to drop a comment or question if you have those~ Maybe, if I break 700 reviews I should roll up my sleeves and do another side story. Hmmm...
As for my life. I did almost all of my oral english exams. Just have to collate marks and mark 3 last pairs of students who got misinformed (somehow) as to the date of their exams. (le sigh) Anyways, my mood has been grumpy since 6 students didn't show up for one class and out of the 15 who did show up, I had to fail 3 for just not getting the exam, not speaking well etc. I hate failing students. On the other hand, they didn't attend class hardly and as a result their English comprehension and speaking isn't where it should be at. (le tear) So yeah...
On the other hand, this means that this summer will begin in earnest next week. I'll be working on Distortions In Time, four/five of my original fics (one of which I hope to publish this year) and also get back into studying Chinese a bit more seriously. Also tutor and do some other side jobs to gain some extra moolah. (I wanna get a new laptop OR a new smartphone...)
So yeah. DISTORTIONS IN TIME... I really wanna finish it this summer. And just post once a week into the fall. That would be great. I hope to make some hard copies for folks who are interested. Non-profit of course... and if I do build an original fiction series out of the first part, I'll let you guys know.
Thanks to: InsolentKatt, zippy zany, deadly-lullaby-000, soupcan, vonhinten, wbss21, vincent1875.
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 70
Loki: The Low Road V
Ever since the first sentient species looked upward at the night sky and wondered, the world of the stars beckoned. The silences and the music of the spheres called forth, tugging on the hearts born with the spirit of adventure. Since those early eons, time has passed – when primitive technologies and magicks reached outward and upward, finally achieving flight – and, with time, knowledge.
Now the Realms are catalogued as far as civilization has reached. Yes, the stars are sorted and ordered by neater minds who demystified categories of times, of distances and of heat and size. Not only the suns, but their revolving satellites, the planets and the moons came under the careful scrutiny of such academics who wished to find the why and wherefore of the universe within the patterns found throughout.
Every space-faring species has constructed their own system of measurement; yet, the simplistic style of the academic, grey-skinned humanoids of Troax was most often used when trade and politics brought multiple races and species together. The Troaxian ratings and designations included the size of the planet (ranging from Category Er to Category Djah), the planet's habitability (ranked from habitable to rapidly destabilizing) and the Shengrid Count (usually measuring on the scale of -5 to +5 with zero being the optimum neutral zone).
So much for the planets. The moons also came under similar, well-regulated and standardized measurements, the better to equip any captain and crew with the reliable data so necessary for space travel.
Gyxa, Loki read, scrolling through the computer's databank entry, was a moon, Category Kul, uninhabitable with a Shengrid Count of +2. Closer to the sun, Loki frowned, and without much of an atmosphere. That will mean donning the heavy duty suits if we are to go out. Although it should be cooler than Muspelheim... If it is as low-budget a colony as the Captain makes it out to be, oxygen tanks will have to be toted about as well.
Seven shifts later, the Spash'ta and her jolly crew set down in Gyxa much to Loki's relief. By the end of the seven long shifts, the exiled Prince knew exactly what kind of company in which he had found himself – not the good kind. Talking with the crew of the Tro'watal and Nesta and, later, Mal, Loki had come to understand exactly what set Captain Mal'myrn apart from other captains and their crews.
She is a rare jewel in these forsaken corners of the universe, Nesta had once imparted with great wisdom, having a sense of justice and fairness. Severity mixed with good faith makes for a great captain and the Tro'watal is blessed with one such as Captain "Steel Balls". All levity aside, she is what gets the Tro'watal up and running properly every day. You'll be lucky, Kol'la, to get another such as Captain Mal and the Tro'watal.
And he's right, 'Kol'la' sighed as he watched several of his crew members retrieve their precious stores of contraband (black market goods, drugs, rare weapons and other sorts of illegal items) and discuss market prices. This does not bode well for us. For me.
When the Spash'ta settled down on the launch pad beside the rounded domes which marked the underground settlement of Gyxa, Loki could hardly wait to disembark, get the job done, return to the ship and continue on his way.
It was not to be.
Captain Lavyr, an older, grizzled Skrull, did not seem to be in any hurry and his crew followed his example accordingly. As soon as the Captain disappeared into the main headquarters of the small colony, no doubt to sample some of the local's distilled drinks, the rest of the crew's busy routine faltered. Crew members chatted with other locals who had climbed out from the various tunnel access points. Loki and two of his more serious partners did their duty, patrolling the edges of the oxygen bubble provided by the ship, the colony's generators and the moon's thin atmosphere.
Watching the others lounging about and leaning against containers which should be making their way down the ramp and into the servicing station, Loki felt a familiar sense of irritation and frustration rise within him. A familiar feeling, he knew, most often linked to those times that Thor would yet again escape his much needed tutoring and preparation for the throne. Yet here, Loki could do nothing, being a junior crew member. All he could do was stand and fume under the sun's devastatingly crisp rays and check and double-check and triple-check the system's ratings for the various perimeter monitors.
For a few seconds, Loki considered hooking on his oxygen tank's mask and let his portion of the oxygen field vent. How panicked they would be! He sighed. This is no time for tricks, Loki, he told himself. This is your only chance to get to the Fen'chi Galaxy and then back to Jotunheim and then back home to Odin and Frigga – and maybe Thor.
I have to warn them. Loki thought of the devastated edges of Jotunheim's now widened Eybjarg. I have to warn them all. If Sagora and Mal speak true, something is coming and it threatens all that lives and holds breath.
Finally, finally, his shift came to an end. Finally, Loki could return to the Spashta, shuck off his sweat-stained suit, smudged goggles and clammy anti-rad gloves. Finally, he could reach his cool quarters and lie in the dark, far from the glare of the too bright sun.
Loki considered his options as his crew mate, Lif, took his position, allowing him to step away from the delicate instrumentation of the atmospheric particle shield converter. Turning away, oxygen canister snugly slung over one shoulder, Loki made his way around the edges of the sphere until he reached the far side, where the nose of the small carrier pointed outward toward the orange-red, bare landscape of rubble and gravel, hills and mountains – and dust. Above it all hung the gigantic planet about which Gyxa revolved. It was also silent and still, a murky yellow-gold which glowed like a small sun in and of itself down on its lesser satellites.
Dust lay over everything – a fine layer of dirt which poofed upwards in small clouds with every step he took. Behind him, the tread of his boots sprang up, clearly imprinted on the lifeless soil. The only sign of life which would remain on that part of the planet after he had long gone. Loki shivered at the thought.
Lifting the oxygen canister's mask to his mouth and thumbing the valve open, Loki stepped forward, breaching the invisible wall of molecules. Now he was fully in the world of the dead. A dead moon baked by the sun as it revolved about its super-heated planet. Behind him, the sound of cheerful chatter, yelling and cursing fell into an oddly murky dimness – coming low and slow through the incredibly thin atmosphere of Gyxa.
Why anyone would wish to live here, Loki thought with a grimace as he looked about the empty moon's landscape, is beyond me. People with no hope, perhaps, with no alternatives. Or the opposite. People who see something here none can see... potential.
The twice-exiled Prince could not help but think of the terrible glory of icy Jotunheim and the golden majesty of Asgard. How often do we take our blessings for granted, he mused. If we see our Realms for what they are – can we feel anything but thankfulness?
Well, not Jotunheim, the darker side of him piped up. Not for long at any rate. Soon...
...SOON...
Soon, it will join in death all those other so-called great Realms and become lost to time and memory.
...IT WILL BE MINE...
Loki shivered, spun abruptly about and returned to the relative safety of the sphere. Still, the dark, oily presence followed him and insinuated itself within the warrior mage's belly, curling about uncomfortably in his mind.
...YOU ALL SHALL BE MINE...
...AND HERS...
...THE BEAUTIFUL END...
...WE ARE WAITING...
...WAITING...
It took everything within Loki not to break out into a run. Keeping his pace quick yet steady, the Jotun made his way up the ramp and further in – towards his quarters. When he reached his room, currently empty of his stim-chatterer's bunk-mate, Gil, Loki turned on the cooler, stripped in the dark and lay on his bed, back firmly flush against the gently vibrating steel of the ship. Focusing his mind on the steady drone of the ship's sub-light engines and the buzz of the other electronics and the whirr of the cooler's broken second fan-blade, Loki closed his eyes to the dark and shored up the barriers within his mind as he had learned how to do instinctively so long ago.
It was louder.
It was closer.
[...the shadows hold great mysteries...]
[...and beyond the shifting dark and light...]
[...the dark and light, which play at the game of life and death...]
[...there is...]
Sleen, a Category Byo Planet, is found within the neutral zone of the system designated TahSol-783955-i3. With a Shengrid Count of +0.5, it is a habitable water planet which boasts of a variegated atmosphere and adequate protection against the sun's rays, which has fostered a diverse ocean ecosystem consisting of vegetative, non-sentient and sentient life forms.
Tuning out the low drown of the narrator, Loki switched the holoscreen's page and focused on the slowly rotating picture of Sleen – a blue-green planet specked with various groups of brown, black and grey. Islands, Loki recognized them instantly. Some islands at least.
Flicking his blue fingers idly, Loki zoomed further into the planet, bringing up realistic photographs of dark choppy waters and the shallows surrounding various underwater mountains, islands, island and submerged volcanoes and reefs. More pictures popped up on the screen, showing various plants, flying and swimming creatures and two-toned partial humanoids.
Sleen's sentient population consists of two races, known as the Chasm-Folk and the Shallow Dwellers. The Chasm-Folk, also named the Trenchers, live in the Abyss, the lower regions of the ocean. Little is known of... Loki fast-forwarded the narrator, stopped and started again. ...known as the Sunners live in the Shallows, the upper regions of the ocean of Sleen. Congregating about reefs and islands, the Shallow Dwellers have constructed a complex civilization and achieved a level eight tech-mark for technological progress, complex tunnelling systems, mining and commercial fish farms and space-faring vehicles specifically modified for their kind...
A red star signal popped up in the lower left hand corner, which Loki quickly tabbed, pulling the small dialogue box bigger, the better to read the small print. Once again, the monotone of the female speaker droned on, accompanied by pictures.
Currently, Sleen is in a partial state of conflict as the supposedly oppressed, less technologically advanced 'Trenchers' fight for access to inter-galactic traders. Hoping to bypass the 'Sunners' and their debilitating tariffs, the 'Trenchers' have stated they wish to advance their culture several generations and ensure the survival of their kind in the face of fierce competition from the 'Sunners', who hold monopoly of the surface waters. Citing 'oppression' and 'exploitation', the Chasm-Folk have begun to strike back recently in a more physical manner, particularly in response to the Shallow Dweller corporations responsible for 'contaminating water' and 'stealing resources'. Visitors to Sleen, commercial or otherwise, are advised against submerging in order to keep out of the mid-level waters currently under debate. Any interference by outside parties may not be welcomed by the warring factions on Sleen.
So, Loki grimaced, turning off the databank with a peremptory flick of his long, blue fingers, so we are about to set foot in a zone of conflict. Led by our fearless and equally brainless Captain who has no sense for the delicacy of such political issues. Loki laid back down on his bunk and sighed.
This is going to be... interesting. To say the least.
-0-0-0-
"Don't get involved in the local politics," Captain Lavyr had said in between sniffs of space dust to his crew just before disembarking. "Don't get involved."
With those words, Loki had felt as though the Noradian had doomed the entire trip and crew. It was, at best, tempting the Norns if one believed that kind of thing. Watching Fyri, a Skrull crew mate, and two other Half-breeds, Kar and Nurx, brawl with three Shallow Dwellers and roll across the sand dusted deck of the pier-side pub at which they had been sampling the local fare and drinks, Loki experienced another pang of unease. Unlike the usual conflicts brought on by cultural misunderstandings or similar gaffes, the intensity of the Sunners spoke of something a bit more serious.
Do I want to know? Loki sighed to himself. No doubt some sordid affair or something similar, most common with those of low taste and etiquette...Turning to his remaining, much more calm crew mate, a female Noradian called Asta, Loki quirked a dark eyebrow.
"What should we do?" He pursed his lips. "I have no real interest in getting entangled, yet if it gets out of control-"
"Hm." Asta tipped her head, eyes narrowing in disgust at the sight of her fellow crewmen rolling about like animals in the dirt. "Looks sandy down on the floor. By Gyla, I hate sand."
"It does get everywhere."
"Yeah."
The two stood there, looking down the from second landing of the pier's backside balcony and contemplated their options.
Karo's Fin. That was the pub's name. Famous for its seafood, the Karo's Fin offered a variety of food and drink aimed to please the variety of palates as presented by the occasional trader who deigned to stop by. Sleen was not considered, after all, worth a stop by many merchants and traders, and thus, Karo's Fin, like other similar establishments dotted all over the planet's few islands, attempted to promote a paradise, a haven for any who would stop by. Offering clear air, fresh unpolluted waters and skies, tasty local seafood dishes and rich alcohol, such establishments combined environmental beauty, culinary delights and high class entertainment (in the form of gorgeous young ladies and boys) to draw in the few space-faring folk who stopped by for quick trading.
Shallow Dwellers, as the databank had named them, were the only ones which Loki had so far seen. Lithe, if spindly, blue-green-skinned humanoids, the Shallow Dwellers offered a different kind of exotic flavour against the seaside backdrop of their world. With glittering grey eyes (often covered with a thin film of a transparent eyelids common in aquatic species), long thin necks and torsos and slender hands and feet, the Sunners definitely looked as though their ancestors had just recently risen out of the oceans. Loki couldn't help but notice the small flaps of skin along their necks, the now vestigial remnants of gills once used by their evolutionary ancestors, he supposed. According to one of the more friendly porters, many wealthy young Sunners opted for operations to remove them.
Loki had smiled bitterly then, remembering all those years of hiding his blue skin, hating his own flesh for what destruction it could hold, what savagery it symbolized. Beauty, he mused, is relative, in the end... His face softened as he remembered Mal's awe and the delicate touch of her light fingers as she traced his lines down his arms, down his ribs to his hips. In the end, it all depends on the individual... or the society. Gills. No gills. Blue skin. White skin.
On Sleen, for certain, there was beauty. The Sunners offered great service in the form of scantily clad, long-haired (another Sunner trait) beauties who waited on the hungry and thirsty travellers. Karo's Fin and Karo's Tower (the hostelry next door) had been the crew's final stop after the simple immigration procedure usual to backwater planets.
Karo's Island. That was the name of the small spit of land upon which Spashta had landed. A very short drive in a small cart, no more than ten minutes by standard time, had brought them to Karo's Fin and Karo's Tower. The following two days had been spent on a neighbouring island called Gori's Market, where the Captain had begun to enter negotiations for his cargo. A period of waiting followed, filled with the usual under the table negotiations for some of the more enterprising crew members and mindless entertainment mixed with alcohol for the rest.
Apparently something – some romance or negotiations have turned sour, Loki glanced over at Asta again. Asta, who still stood there looking down at the six combatants rolling about the lower deck of the pub, knocking against chairs and tables, upsetting drinks, bumping into the long-suffering wait staff and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Loki felt for the Karo's waiters and waitresses. Long years of serving tables at the Poison Paradise rose up in his mind. He would have been cursing the trouble-makers to Helheim by this point if he were the Sunners.
"What do you think happened?" Loki wondered, looking back at other crew members who were now gathering about to chant their friends' names and egg on the fighters.
"Drugs," Asta said sourly. "No doubt. Or some such foolishness. More trouble than its worth, I always say."
"Indeed."
"Some Sunners don't like it," Asta continued coolly. "I know. I've been through here a few times now. They never like that kind of illegal stuff circulating. Weapons and drugs always cause trouble on a planet like this one... Or the idiots sold something to a Trencher. Let's hope that didn't actually happen."
"The Chasm-Folk?"
"Yeah."
"They would have to submerge..." Loki trailed off.
"Last night." Another less drunk crew member muttered, coming to stand by Asta and shaking his head while contemplating his half-full pint of local ale. "Apparently."
"Oma'auzha."
"Yeah," nodded the weathered Skrull, whom Loki recognized as Shift Two's engineer. "Went down and got some trading done with the Trenchers. I told them it was more trouble than it's worth, but do they listen to me? Nooo..."
"What did the Captain say?" asked Loki curiously.
"Probably nothing," Asta smirked. "Probably doesn't know. Yet."
"Well," laughed the old engineer. "He'll know... now."
"So we are close to a Trench then?"
"They are everywhere," Asta pointed out. The engineer nodded. "One lies between Kora's Island and Gori's Market."
"Ah." Loki slumped against the metal railing and sighed then. "Of course, it being so handily close by, they had to go-"
"Money calls." Asta said succinctly.
"But is it worth it?" Loki asked skeptically.
"Ahhh..." The Skrull engineer laughed then."The Trenchers will pay anything for a way to advance their cause," he explained. Then repeated again: "Anything."
With that enigmatic revelation, the older crew mate moved off. Asta cursed. Loki rubbed his eyes tiredly. This is... He had no idea what to think, what to do. Below and up the stairway, guests, locals and staff crowded about now, many pushing forward as various onlookers jumped into the fray. Wait staff and one of the managers were also attempting to bring order to the mob – to no avail. Items went flying, tables tipped over, chairs were wielded as shields and weapons alike, bottles crashed against heads and furniture. Like thick flowing syrup, the increasingly disordered crowd spilled out of the lower balcony and down onto the beach proper as folk tussled half in and half out of the water.
Loki was just about to suggest calling the captain when a mechanical siren blared out overhead, voices cast by giant speakers began to order everyone to cease fighting, lie down and put their hands on their heads. Shots were fired into the air as warning, bringing almost everyone to attention immediately. Following Asta's lead, Loki knelt, allowed himself to be cuffed and led off to a floating prisoners' barge. Seated between Asta and a copiously bleeding Sunner, Loki sat silently, fuming inwardly as the entire group were subdued with stun guns and clubs, rounded up, restrained and carted over to a holding cell on a third island further away.
It was a hellish time. Thanks to his nonresistance, Loki's hands had been cuffed before him, but that did little to alleviate the heat which overwhelmed him in the metallic barge now slowly baking under the noon day sun. The short-tempered native beside him had thankfully fainted, yet blood still oozed out of the cut on his arm, smearing Loki's blue skin with dark red. Two prisoners emptied their stomachs onto the floor and six more got in a shouting match before guards entered and began hustling them out in pairs.
As he was led out, Loki could not help but notice that the Sunners were being weeded out of the lines. No doubt they will pay lightly for their freedom, Loki thought sourly. Then it was his turn to sit before an annoyed and tired law enforcement officer dressed in standard black spacer military fatigues. Officer Loi took down Loki's account with a stoic face and little apparent interest.
"When will we be released?" Loki asked as his paperwork was shuffled about in a resigned kind of way.
"Depending on your involvement in the fight this morning or the submergence at last night," the Sunner shrugged his shoulders indifferently, "as early as tomorrow morning."
"I see."
"We will will look into the affair as soon as may be. The culprits will be duly punished and the fines levied."
"And if I was merely an unfortunate bystander?" Loki's voice rose a little, but he forced himself to keep calm in the face of suspect bias.
"Then you will be free soon enough. Those innocent of any interference or wrong-doing will be freed in good time."
With that, Loki was pulled to his feet and hustled past more metal desks and chairs (adorned ominously with electro-restraints) and down two hallways before finally arriving at a heavy metal door, behind which waited a cell already occupied by three of his crew mates. Loki eyed the damp, sandy, disgruntled and bruised group with disfavour.
"I can't believe-" One of them spoke, his voice raised in a disbelieving sort of whine – and then broke off as one of Loki's dark eyebrows sardonically rose, his red eyes flashed and a finger rose, cutting him off.
"I have no interest in your complaints, dou'ma," said Loki, his voice and body language the appearance of calm and little else. "Sit down in the corner, do not contaminate the beds with your dirt and I may consider forgiving you your indiscretions which have apparently and unfortunately embroiled the rest of the crew."
"It wasn't me who started it!"
"Not me either-"
"I just kinda-"
"Some auzha pushed-"
"Silence!" Loki's voice cracked like a whip around the small grey room. Everyone fell silent. "I will take the upper bunk. I will lie down. I will be left alone. This room will be silent until they come back for me." Giving each of his companions a warning glare, Loki strode over, tested the lumpy mattresses and chose the best one before clambering up, lying down and staring up at the ceiling.
Less than two weeks, he thought, and I am in trouble already. Shutting his eyes and grimacing and trying to ignore the whispers of the others who were trying to sort out in almost silence who would be getting the other three beds, Loki tried not to think of Mal and the Tro'watal. Tried not to think of his faraway home which seemed so out of reach at present. Tried not to think of his family. Of Thor.
-0-0-0-
A day later, Loki was released alongside a small band of subdued crew members who had not taken part in the altercation and as a result could now return to their ship. The Captain, apparently, was still in the middle of negotiating the release of his crew. Upon arrival at the Spashta's loading dock, the group realized that things were worse than they had imagined – the ramp had been left lowered the day before and remained so the entire night, allowing access to the entire cargo bay and its precious cargo.
Cursing loudly and fluently in several languages, two of the Skrull engineers and Asta jumped forward, pulling open containers and shoving crates aside. One of the more violent tempered half-breeds kicked aside several empty boxes and promised retribution on "the dou'ma who had dared spit in their faces". Although, Loki mentally pointed out, it was we who first to begin this with those fools who thought that trading with Trenchers was a great idea, particularly within an already politically unstable area.
"Nothing," Latho sighed, leaning back on an empty cart. "They left nothing."
"No use weeping over it now," Asta said after a long moment. "It'll be long gone now."
"There is no chance of us getting it back?" Loki asked and added. "You think it was the Sunners who did this?"
"Absolutely," someone said. "Unless there are daredevil Trenchers in the neighbourhood. Rare for those kinds though – they'd have to have the water-oxy casks." Then they added in further explanation, noticing the blank look of one of the younger crew members. "You should've read it in the file the Cap sent around – Trenchers can't live outside of the water, not like the Sunners, anyways. They need to carry about headgear designed to hold water, for them to breath through, see." A pause. A moment of silence followed, broken only by the occasional rustle as a few other optimists rustled through the ship's further deck's shelving units. "No. It has to be the Sunners. When we were all in the clank."
"Think they set it all up-"
"Oh! You mean-"
"Janah! That whole fight-"
"I hardly think-" Loki's quiet remonstrance was overruled by louder voices.
"Makes total sense-"
"-just like them-"
"-should never have trusted them the oma'auzha-"
"Or they are merely opportunistic," Loki pointed out.
"That they are," agreed Asta. "Malicious, no. Opportunistic, yes. More than likely, a few seized the chance to take what they wanted-"
"Everything," interjected Loki.
"-and now, with no chance of recovering it, the Captain will order a return to base."
"Base?" asked one Noradian.
"Kolm."
Kolm, Loki knew, was Vlozh'noi's sister planet with similar farms and populated with a similar mix of Noradians and Half-Breeds. A step backwards. Two steps. Not what I wish for at all.
"I suppose I see the logic," Loki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly as he turned away from careful perusal of a higher-set shelving unit also emptied. His shoulder length dark hair, now bound up in a tie, hung down like a pony's tail (if pony's tail ends usually curled) and left his neck free from his now longer hair's smothering heat. "How inconvenient."
"Well, you could stay here," another crew member pointed out. "Our shift can run without you."
"Nice," Asta snorted at Loki's scowl. "Such love." She cocked her head and then shot Loki an unrepentant grin and shrugged her trademark shrug again. "But Ollie's right. You could stay and hitch a ride further on. You won't be able to be choosy – but you could probably hitch a ride on some old boat. They do come around more often than they used to."
"Hm." Loki frowned and gazed out the door to the black metal ramp and the white sand beyond. "I will think on it."
"You'll have to think fast," Asta added. "The Captain will be here soon, I should imagine."
With that, Ollie and Asta took charge, setting up a shift for guards, setting up three cleaning crew shifts and two inventory-checking shifts. After three turns of the clock, Loki managed to rest his cramped fingers, now tired from endless writing in his inventory shift, and took his six hour guard duty. At some point in time, the Captain had arrived, Tamal told him, swearing and cursing like a spacked out spacer. He had gotten the rest of the crew free with a stiff fine – but with the cargo gone, the whole venture was a real loss. Insurance would cover some, Loki was told, but overall, the return home to Kolm with the Captain in a mood such as this will be hellish.
Inventory and guard duty done, Loki initially felt no interest in how the Captain felt about his financial losses nor did he feel sympathetic about the uncomfortable fate of the rest of the crew as yet incarcerated until just before lift off. Stripping out of his light-grey space-suit (which Asta once told him never had looked better until he had donned it), Loki rolled in his bunk and enjoyed the dark and the chill fan yet again. Tomorrow, he thought, I will make a decision.
-0-0-0-
He woke in the early morning hours to a quiet world. The crew, excepting the night guard shift, were asleep and the ship lay silent for the most part. Far away, he could hear the light shuffle of a pair of boots. The guards, no doubt. Loki went back to sleep, dozing fitfully, until he heard the first grumbling of his belly. Finding his way to the as yet empty canteen where most mornings a small hubbub was usually rising, Loki scrounged in unusual silence as two Skrull crew from the second night shift sat quietly. Slacking off, Loki supposed, but he said nothing, instead deciding to expend his energy in a more fruitful way than getting into senseless arguments.
Gathering up several brown and black buns, a bunch of boiled eggs and a small container of sweet gruel which the dispensing machine splattered out in its usual ominous way, Loki exited the large, brown and orange decorated room with the barest of nods. Winding his way down various corridors and passageways, up and down various levels and stairs, the exiled Prince and new, unhappy member of the Spashta, made his way below to the now sorted and neatly ordered empty hold of the Spashta, down the ramp and out to the beach beyond.
Sand drifted across the stone and metal landing pad upon which the Spashta rested. The white granules, as soft as and even more minute than snow, drifted across the flat, grey concrete, getting caught in the cracks. Loki looked about, located the grove of bright green and purple trees he had seen earlier, left the shade of the ship and settled himself on the flat, more packed, darker sand closer to the water which was now quietly lapping up against the shore.
A fresh stiff breeze blew off the vast blue-green ocean before him. Blue-green in the shallows before him. Blue-green which melted away to darker blues and teals and then finally into the dark water of the great deep. Sunlight blessed the water with endlessly variegated glittering diamonds of light as the waves slowly rippled under the gentle caress of the wind. Above, gigantic, white clouds drifted serenely across the azure sky, carrying their burden of rain to other climes.
Paradise, Loki thought as he slowly finished his small, unappetizing breakfast. A paradise from a certain point of view, as we learned last night. When he set aside the last container, Loki pulled his space boots off and allowed the so hated sand to push up between his light blue toes. Light blue toes lined with the marks of his ancestors. The marks of Laufey. Absent-mindedly, his dark nail traced the one line which curved up and around his ankle, up to his calf and the back of his knees.
As a young man, he had hidden his form in disgust. As a Prince, he had hidden his form in fear. Yet, here he was, forced everyday to confront what he had been running away from for the larger part of his life. Forced to acknowledge it in his quarter's small mirror placed inconveniently and inescapably in the back of his door while on the Tro'watal, forced to acknowledge it in the eyes of the others and here as well – within the distorted waters of Sleen's clear ocean.
Yet, somehow, the horror was fading. Perhaps I am tired, Loki thought. One can only hold onto the emotions of hate for so long before fatigue sets in. There is only despair and miserable acceptance.
He could not help but think of Mal again then. Mal. Mal. She had taken him to her bosom in a way he had not experienced before. There was Glo-Glo. A little like that. There was Frigga. And Elska. That was another kind of love, Loki supposed. A maternal thing. Familial. Wanted and necessary. And now there was Mal. Mal who had, like Frigga, encouraged him to pursue what path his heart led him on. Mal who had looked for a brighter day.
Loki sat there for several turns of the clock in quiet, listening to the distant call of birds, the quiet clatter of the Spashta waking up, the gentle lap of the water against the shore – regular as a heart beat. The shadows shifted as the sun climbed a little higher in the sky.
When Asta called his name from the ramp, Loki was standing under the slowly compacting shadows of the trees, ankle deep in blue-green glass, red eyes focused far away on the horizon. He knew what he had to do.
That's that. Now for the next chapter. More LOKI! MORE LOKI TRAVELLING! Loki wandering over the wrong side of the tracks. Loki taking a bus accidentally into the wrong neighbourhood. Hope you guys are enjoying this!
Let me know what you guys thought!
-KI
Alien Glossary:
'auzha – fucker
bollen - boulders/monoliths
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
Dou'ma – idiot
Eno'Keshi'ko – the system of Eno, a type of magical level measurements
Fen'chi Galaxy – Andromeda Galaxy
gan'ga'war – steel balls
gan'ko – ganka'jya chon, a steel beetle
iz'kyr – a kind of frozen stone powder which is used as a narcotic for some species
Janah – similar to dammit
Ka'autha'ndarna - Reality
kalo – a kind of purple-red fruit, similar to a pomegranate or dragonfruit
Kholathan – Safety Belt/Protected Zone
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
kon'bi – short for konji'bifu, space bat
lasu – space rat
l'gon – storyteller
Morning-star - a mace
myech'myena - shape-shifting
Mye'hyoi Peyt – Milky Way
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
Nord-Stjarna – north star
Nyr'Fjor - Jotunn's original name for V'slozh'noi
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
pu'lotni – plutonium
pye'nee - a kind of bird
Ra'ska'yeh o Phyllo'xia – Tales of Phylloxia
roobyn – a red stone
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
Shen'grid – the Protected Zone, the zone in which habitable planets orbit around a sun
Shi'nuwu – Reality/Yggdrasil
sigan – short for yan'sigan, rock-worm
So'shah – Earth/Midgard
syem'fyerma – family/community farm
Tai'shu – The Void
tro'watal – perseverance
udji'oo – a drug, like opium
whota – wheat