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justminawrites · 11 months

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Satellites

AO3

1 | 2 | TBC

Jacin woke with a splitting headache.

It didn’t take more than three seconds for his lunar guard training to kick in: Rope. Chair. Feet. Metal. Breathing. Cress.

As his eyes adjusted to the complete lack of light in the room, Jacin flexed his wrists, which he found were tied behind his back with a length of plastic-resin cord– standard issue for lunar prisoners.

Rope.

He was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable metal surface, but from what he could tell everything around him was metal. The seat was metal, the ground under him was metal– either they were in a shipping container, or a torture chamber.

Jacin tried to ignore the pounding in his head, echoing like drum beats, like the military exercises he’d once been so eager to playact, when he was young and naïve enough to believe in his country.

He’d noticed immediately that whoever had tied him up had taken his shoes, and tried his best to repress a shudder as the cold leached into his bare skin and crawled up his legs, leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake.

Chair. Feet. Metal. And the last one was–

“Cress,” Jacin called quietly, shifting his arms in an attempt to loosen his binds.

She was cuffed to him, the two of them back to back, and still unconscious - he could feel her petite frame pressed against him, sharp shoulder blades digging into his spine, and tried his best to shake her awake.

“Cress,” he repeated urgently, wondering for a second if they’d drugged her harder than him for some reason.

“Uhn.. no Carol.. I can’t come in.. today.”

Jacin tried not to feel too relieved at the sound of her mumbling. This plan would go much slower if he was the only one awake to execute it.

He twisted his hands a little, grabbing the closest thing he could reach (the skin of her forearm) and pinched. Hard.

“Mm.. what– OW!” Cress shrieked, jolting from the pain, but he instantly shushed her.

“We don’t have much time,” He hissed as she took a second to take in her surroundings, “–if I’m right, they’ll start it up the moment we show signs of being conscious.”

“Start what?” She shot back, still emotionally stinging from the wound, “What’s going on?”

“Let me get out of these ties first.”

As Jacin worked to quietly slip out of the ropes, Cress swore (that was new), turning this way and that, making it difficult for him.

“They took it!” She whisper-shouted in panic, “They took my shoes, they took everything– oh stars."

Jacin finally grabbed her hands to make her stop.

“They must’ve searched us before they locked us in here,” He explained as patiently as he could,

“That’s probably why you’re missing your taser.”

“No you don’t understand, they took the– wait how’d you end up here?”

Jacin let go of her and continued to work his hands free. After a few seconds, he managed to get one of them loose and released a long, drawn out breath.

“Drugged,” He said matter-of-factly, “Same as you. I managed to get the one hiding in the hover but there must’ve been a sniper in one of the opposite buildings.”

Cress stayed quiet for a few seconds and just when he thought she was about to apologise for involving him in all this, she huffed,

“I knew it! I knew this was a bigger deal than everyone said! Take that, Carol.”

Jacin’s jaw twitched. They really hadn’t been friends for a while.

The Cress he knew was so filled with doubt and uncertainty, even on her best day, that she spent half her time clinging to her boyfriend like he was some kind of social screen through which she could filter out any potential rejection.

It had been six long years since the lunar revolution, but everything about Cress seemed to have changed in the last 6 months - since he’d left Artemisia and she’d begun her new job as a member of the ISA (Information Security Analyst) Department of the Lunar Government.

Even in his wildest dreams, Jacin wouldn’t have pegged her for a patriot, much less a civil servant; Cress was the last person from their old crew he’d envision carrying a gun and reporting back to someone, and that included the Emperor.

“No please, don’t thank me for singlehandedly orchestrating our rescue,” He replied wryly, freeing his other hand and stretching his cramped muscles, before turning around to untie hers.

“Huh, oh thanks, Jacin,” Cress said absent-mindedly, shifting around in the dark once he’d pulled away the rope.

“Sorry for getting you inv– oh, I knew it! It is gone!”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Jacin said, rising to his feet.

The room was still completely dark, so he reached for the nearest wall and began to walk alongside it, gauging its perimeter.

The wall was smooth, but with sharp corners, not disproving his shipping container theory, and the room was about as big as a lunar palace bathroom, or a medium-sized swimming pool. Once he’d paced the length twice, Jacin started to look for any telltale grooves or panels that might hint at there being a trapdoor.

“Find anything?” He nearly flinched as Cress’s soft whisper tickled his left ear. She’d gotten taller; another thing he didn’t recognise about her.

“What’d they take?” He asked, instead of answering the question, “–besides your shoes.”

“My jacket, my weapons, and the USB I had on me, with all the details about the encryption glitch.”

Cress didn’t sound angry, just puzzled, as though she was trying to get into the headspace of the attacker who’d done this to them. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her wrinkling her nose in frustration and clamped down on the sudden urge to snort. Jacin would never admit it, even to himself, but he’d missed her.

“Isn’t it strange? Why would they take our shoes?” Cress wondered out loud, her voice moving from his left to his right, “Just to check for weapons?”

“Could be just to mess with our heads,” He shrugged, “Psychological torture.”

“Wow,” She whistled, “You haven’t changed one bit. How do you say the scariest things with a straight face?”

“You can’t see my face,” Jacin countered, still feeling up the wall, “I could be smiling.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“And you never will,” He promised, now knocking on the metal to check for hollow spots.

“Aha!”

Jacin turned away just in time as a sharp spear of white light sliced through the darkness and shone right onto his face. He blinked away brown spots as the flashlight now pointed to the wall he’d been blindly examining, Cress on the tail end of it, holding what looked like a tube of lipstick.

“Lip-light!” She said helpfully, though he hadn’t bothered to ask. The unexpected brightness had only confirmed what he’d been afraid of.

“Nothing,” Jacin said flatly, a flicker of fear colouring his tone. The walls were as smooth as the floor; there was no way out.

Cress didn’t say anything as he sunk to the floor, his back to the wall and tried to focus on a solution. Maybe the perpetrators would attempt to contact with them through a built-in speaker. Or some kind of chute? But he knew that it’d be too late by then; they were goners if they waited for any kind of acknowledgement from the people who’d kidnapped them.

Jacin watched Cress wander around the room in no particular order, shining her lipstick-flashlight in each corner before finally coming to sit beside him. He hadn’t realised he’d shifted away until she shook her head in disbelief.

“Really, Jacin? I’m not contagious, y’know,” she huffed, hugging her knees to her chest.

“So those yoga pants were a deliberate decision then?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Ha. Ha.” She switched off the light, plunging them into darkness again, “I get it. You’re too cool to hang out with your nobody friends now.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, you sure act like it,” Cress sighed, her voice sounding strangely old, “Scarlet and Wolf ask about you all the time, even Iko wants to know why you never reply to her comms or her vidlink invites or the e-birthday-cards she sends every year.”

Jacin noticed she’d chosen to omit a certain space Captain from her list of well-wishers but refrained from asking why. It wasn’t his business, after all.

“Scarlet asks about me?” He said instead.

He remembered the redheaded Earthen girl Winter had so impulsively befriended; the two had gotten off on the wrong foot, and it was impossible to imagine them tolerating one another, much less her actively being concerned for his well-being.

“You haven’t shown up for the last three anniversary dinners,” Cress listed off the top of her head.

“You never participate in our group vidlinks– even Cinder turns up and she’s a princess for star’s sake!– and, up until a few weeks ago you didn’t even set foot outside Artemisia.”

“This has nothing to do with Winter,” Jacin replied reflexively. Maybe he’d gotten used to the temperature, but the room seemed oddly humid now, something like sweat prickling the back of his neck.

She gasped like she’d caught him in the act, “And don’t get me started on that whole scandal with Princess Winter! I commed you so many times–“

“Cress,” He warned, “Drop it.”

“It would’ve been nice to get a comm back y’know,” she pressed, “I was worried about you.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“I’m worried about you.”

Winter turned her big, doe-like eyes on him, closing the box he’d just given her. Blood and shame coloured his cheeks, and he was glad no one else was around to see them.

“Look at me.”

She took his pale, shaking hands in her own steady ones.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“Jacin?”

He snapped awake like he’d been shot.

Jacin was splayed out on the floor, blinking away a shorter blackout than what he was used to. Cress hovered over him, her cool fingers on his sweaty brow, the lip-light illuminating the grey, stony ceiling above them.

He caught her wrists and pushed them away. Gently, he hoped, as her eyes flashed with hurt.

“Please,” he said tightly, propping himself up, I just need some space. She pursed her lips but scooted back.

The air had gotten thicker, a humid soup bowl of sweat and the faint smell of burnt plastic, and both he and Cress were sweating now. He reached behind him, pressing one palm to the wall in confusion and felt it pulse with warmth. What?

“Was that normal?” Cress asked finally, looking over his shoulder, “Do you faint like that regularly?”

“I don’t faint,” He replied, absent-mindedly checking the ground beside him for where he’d tossed their ropes.

“Jacin you just collapsed out of nowhere,” concern bled into her voice, “Are you seeing a doctor?”

“I’m fine, Cress.”

Jacin waved her away as his hands found the thick, white cords that’d been used to tie them up. Parts of the plastic-resin had melted into itself, softening and curling into useless putty, while the rest stayed firm.

“But–“

“Pass me the light.” He said, his voice sharp.

She handed over the lip-light, startled, and he rose quickly, now heading over to the metal bench they’d been tied to. Jacin turned the little flashlight to the ceiling right above it and swore. Loudly. He should’ve known.

His sudden outburst drew Cress from her place on the floor and she looked up to the small panel illuminated by the light. A thin groove along the wall, nearly imperceptible if you weren’t looking for it specifically but big enough for a person to get out of if they managed to flip it open.

“Quick,” he said, handing her back the flashlight, “Get on my back.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before he grabbed her arm and placed the lip-light in her palm, closing her fist over it.

“Cress,” He tried not to tint his words with the bitter tang of fear that was already churning in his stomach.

“We need to go now. This whole place's about to become a sweatbox.”

Her eyes widened.

Jacin had suspected as much, the moment he’d woken from the drug-haze. Though he hadn’t been assigned to oversee the torture of criminals and political prisoners under Levana’s rule, he’d watched as those who were returned to the barracks covered in scars and grime, whispering amongst themselves about entire rooms undergoing severe renovations to accommodate the Queen’s insatiable appetite for large-scale persecution.

One of those rooms was this: made of volcanic rock and metal, the hot air released into the room would be trapped within its walls, ideal for inflicting severe dehydration, intense burns, or even death (based on their crimes), without the unnecessary need for human contact. The method was so impassive and guilt-free, Jacin would’ve commended Levana’s ingenuity, if he didn’t hate her with every fibre of his being.

The only problem was, he had no way of knowing wether their attackers intended on slowly wasting them away, or burning them to a crisp, but he didn’t want to stay and find out.

“Alright,” Cress said finally, popping the lip-light between her teeth.

Jacin turned and crouched obediently, waiting for her to climb onto his back.

A few awkward seconds later (she was heavier than he remembered too), Jacin climbed onto the metal bench, his bare feet bristling with discomfort - the chair was hotter than the floor - and waited for her to push open the grooved panel.

Cress’s arms barely reached the ceiling, her legs swinging from his shoulders, but she didn’t complain.

“‘ow’d you mow ao’out dis exshhit amyway?” She mumbled from above him, flashlight still in her mouth.

“Training.” He replied curtly, but continued when he felt her stiffen, “One of the guards got trapped in a sweatbox-room once and I helped get him out.”

Cress fell silent for a few minutes, and all he could hear was the sound of scraping as her hands struggled to find purchase on the metal.

“There’s some kind of weight on it,” She said out of breath, tucking the lip-light away, “I can’t push it open.”

“I think I need to stand.”

He paled. The metal under his feet had begun to sear.

“I don’t know if that’s–“

It was too late, she was already hosting herself up using both her hands and feet, as Jacin did his best to keep his balance without burning his foot off. The longest ten seconds of his life later, Cress was able to push open the creaky panel a fraction, her feet firmly plastered on his shoulders.

“See anything?” He called, wiping away the sweat that dripped into his eyes.

“Like what?” She whispered back, trying to peek through the opening. He could think of a few things. Guns. Guards. Security cameras, depending on where they were.

“Anything.” He repeated instead.

Cress huffed and attempted to push the wall again, recoiling in shock from the heat.

“It’s burning– Are you–“

“I’ll live,” he grit his teeth, “Any progress on that escape hatch?”

She shook her head instead of answering and proceeded to lean all her weight onto the panel instead. Jacin wondered if the hiss of flesh on metal was coming from above or below him.

The hatch creaked again, this time longer and more pronounced, and Cress let out another happy Aha! before struggling to pull herself up and out.

He felt the weight on his shoulders disappear slowly, then all at once, and looked up to see that a portion of the wall was fully open, gaping out into the night sky.

Jacin felt his throat tighten for the second time that day.

How long had it been since he’d seen the stars?

At one point in his life, the stars were the only things that’d kept him going. No, that wasn’t completely true: Winter had been the only thing that’d kept him going.

He lived for her, he breathed for her. He’d died for her. Again and again. But now she was gone. Sitting somewhere far within the depths of the palace in Artemisia, smiling and laughing and loving someone else. Watching the stars with someone who wasn’t him.

“There’s a rope-ladder thing here,” Cress popped into frame, blotting out the stars with her curled blonde bangs, and Jacin caught himself just in time. The knife-twist in his heart had momentarily distracted him from his burning feet.

“Just grab on, I’ll try to pull you up as far I can.”

A few seconds later, what looked like a climbing rope made out of interlocking metal links, dropped down from the opening.

Jacin shook his head and grabbed onto the chain, clearing his thoughts. Enough. This wasn’t the time or place to sit and mope like a beaten dog. He’d have plenty of time for regret, once he was back in his apartment, alone, where he could spend the rest of his days blacking out.

The chain went taught as he began to climb and it was all he could do not to imagine Cress on the other side, pulling and pulling to keep him up. He grabbed ahold of the burning metal and hoisted himself onto the roof, sweat sizzling as it dripped off his arms, and collapsed on his side.

As he took gasping breaths, his burnt skin scalding under the cool night air; he felt the vibrations of the metal as Cress too flopped down beside him, the edges of her pixie cut tickling his cheek.

For one brief beautiful moment, Jacin pretended it was Winter laying beside him instead. That it was Winter’s soft curls on his face, and her honeyed giggle that would echo into the dawn that drew close.

Any second now he would turn to the side, and she would look up at him with her gold-flecked eyes and say I do. Of course I do, Jacin. I love you, with that sweet, lilting voice of hers and everything would be okay. She wouldn’t close the box, she wouldn’t take his hands, she wouldn’t say the dreaded words that left him so empty he’d nearly drank himself to death.

“Hey.. are.. okay..”

Her voice trailed away as he closed his eyes, stars imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Any second now.

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