Rule 26 (12 of ?, j2 au)
HAHAHA! Two chapters in two months! Crazy or what?
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Rule 26 (12/?)
(J2 au)
There was no easy way to explain to someone that you'd actually only pulled them into bed with you because you were drunk and that you'd never have done it sober. Unfortunately, it was entirely necessary for Jared to explain just that to Brock, because he'd only just been released from one relationship he'd never had any intention of being in, and he really didn't need another.
He was gentle, but firm. Told Brock that it was nothing personal, that he hadn't been thinking clearly at the time and that he hoped that that was cool with Brock.
He didn't mention Jensen's name in the conversation, not once, not even when Brock said, it's because of him, isn't it?. In hindsight, Jared thought he should have made Brock clarify who exactly he meant. He shouldn't have left it as a given that there was something, anything at all, between him and Jensen.
On the other hand, maybe inviting too much exploration of Jared's relationship with Jensen wasn't a good idea either.
Because Nekrotik's fleet was on high alert - no doubt due to the recent disappearance of their high commander - sector control was tight, so their shuttle was delayed in docking at the Tantalus station. This meant Jared had to endure being trapped onboard with a hurt and disappointed Brock, who kept shooting him furtive looks, which happened to be also totally obvious to everybody else present.
Jared wasn't sure whether he was made more uncomfortable by Brock's visible upset, or the fact that everyone else on the shuttle thought they knew what was going on.
So Jared took refuge in the kitchen, where he stoically devoured one nutripak after another.
"You're gonna get fat you keep eating those."
He looked up, and froze in mid-chew when he saw Alona watching him. He studied her face to see how likely it was that she'd come out here to pick a fight with him. Jared was already sure he knew her opinion on the matter and it wasn't going to make him feel any better to hear it again.
He continued watching her as she leaned herself up against the counter opposite him.
"You didn't have to ditch 'em both, you know," she said lightly. "Just choosing one would'a been acceptable."
Jared sucked in a noisy breath and resumed chewing. "No offence, but did you come out here for anything in particular?"
She looked at him a moment longer, something surprisingly like regret on her face, before she said, "Devine says we're cleared for docking, but we should expect some pretty heavy security on board the station." Then she was gone.
Jared wondered about the heavy security, about whether it was because they were still looking for Jensen, or whether it was because their galactic dictator had unexpectedly just shown up in a remote space station in a dull stretch of space.
He wondered about it even more when he stepped off the shuttle into the Tantalus docking bay and saw just how heavy security was.
"Wow," said McNiven.
She stared at the stationary, sprawling lines of travelers, which were bottlenecked into manned security points at the entrance to the main body of the station. Visibly armed soldiers in red and black patrolled between each line, faceless beneath their masks as they surveyed the throng.
"This is gonna take hours," she said.
"That's not the problem you should be worrying about," said Brock grimly, coming up just behind Jared. He threw a warning look over them all as he spoke. "If anyone here has a history that might make an identity check a cause for concern, they might wanna rethink us stopping."
Devine shook her head. Her gaze was fixed on the roving soldiers. "That crate's not gonna fly us much further, boy, certainly not into open space. Our best option's to sell it for scrap and get ourselves picked up as freight."
"They might ask us some questions," said Chad, exchanging a glance with Gabe. "Shouldn't have anything to hold us on." He looked to Brock and Alona. "You guys gonna be okay?"
It surprised Jared that nobody asked him. He was curious what they thought his story was, what history they'd filled in from knowing that he'd arrived with Jensen and that Jensen had left with Nekrotik's soldiers.
While Jared’s criminal record was extensive, there was nothing pending, as far as he knew. It was possible Jensen had added something, perhaps while he was Nekrotik, after he'd kidnapped Jared. Maybe an if found, please return to… note. There was only one way he was going to find out. Jared sighed and carded his fingers through his hair; Devine was right, going back wasn't an option.
It was a long, tiring wait. Sara's little girl went through a period of bored bad behavior, which wore down everybody else's temper, before she wore herself out to fretful tearfulness. The rest of them kept conversation to a minimum and eyed the soldiers warily as they gradually approached the security point.
Through the entrance to the space station, Jared could see the lower half of a statue he recognized: Doctor Nekrotik, set to greet visitors with the certainty that even out here they were not beyond his reach.
"Wish Jensen had stuck around," Gabe muttered at Jared's side. "We could'a done with his help."
Jared's attention snapped to him. "What do you mean?" he said sharply.
Overhearing the conversation on the other side, Chad snorted and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, dude, don't play dumb. Pellegrino's hand was practically twitching any time he saw Jensen 'cause he wanted to salute him so bad. Jensen was an officer, we all saw it. Only real question is what he was doing with you, 'cause you're really obviously not."
If they were genuinely expecting an answer, they were disappointed. Jared turned his attention back to the carved boots and coat hemline that was all that was visible of Nekrotik's statue through the doorway.
He didn't know what Jensen had wanted with him either. He should stick to dating ambassadors, not pick up the petty resistance fighters from shithole planets who were trying to kidnap him.
"Head's up," said Brock. "McNiven's going through."
As a group, they'd decided to send through first those least likely to be stopped by the soldiers as a security concern. Brock and the others would appear more respectable if they were traveling with law-abiding citizens like McNiven, while she and the others would already be processed before the potential trouble could begin.
Along with Brock and Alona, Chad and Gabe, Jared watched as McNiven and the others were scanned and body-searched and questioned. It was a long, tedious process, made more so by the lack of any identification papers to offer, and Brock was fidgeting and tense by the time it was finally his turn.
Jared saw him grin as a soldier beckoned him forward, and he hoped that Brock was smart enough to realize that his charm in itself was pretty incriminating.
"Oh god, this is bad, this is so bad," Gabe muttered in a low breath. His voice was muffled by his absent-minded chewing on the cuff of his jacket.
"It'll be fine," said Jared. "Just keep it together." He offered a polite smile as a soldier gestured for him to come forward, and, heart pounding in his chest, he tried to follow his own advice.
While two soldiers hung back, heavy blasters cradled expertly in their arms lest Jared should cause any trouble, a third soldier, wearing a uniform cap in place of a helmet, briskly ran through a series of questions, which unsurprisingly sounded more like orders.
Brock's voice floated over from the checkpoint next to Jared's as he chatted animatedly to the guard. He was eliciting little response but at least the guard's attitude seemed to tend more towards irritation than suspicion.
"From Xas 12, the Stantone township?" said the soldier questioning Jared. His tone had developed an edge, and he regarded Jared with fresh interest.
Jared looked away from Brock, gave another uncertain smile as he nodded. "Yeah, that's right."
The soldier studied something on his screen. "You were resident there eleven years ago, in year 756 Ligorian Calendar?"
Brock had been finished with and was now waiting with McNiven and the others, who were anxiously watching Jared's exchange with the soldier.
Jared nodded again, with the unsettling feeling that this latest complication had nothing to do with Jensen. When he answered, he kept his tone polite. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
Ignoring Jared, the soldier flicked a hand at the guards waiting behind him. "Take him."
"Wait!" Jared shouted as the soldiers approached him. "What's this about? You can't just-"
"Be aware, traveler: if you resist you risk summary execution," one of the armed soldiers informed Jared, while the other twisted Jared's hands behind him, and Jared was cuffed before it even entered his brain to fight.
McNiven rushed to the other side of the barrier, her gaze darting between Jared and the soldiers. She kept pace as the soldiers hauled Jared away. "Where are you taking him? What’s he done?"
"You can't do this! Tell us where you’re fucking taking him!" Brock shouted. Impulsively, he reached out over the barrier, caught hold of one of the soldier's elbow, and was instantly staring down the muzzle of fifteen blasters, trained right on him.
All sound and motion in the docking bay dropped off. His breath shuddering out of him hard, Jared met Brock's gaze. Brock stared back at him, stricken.
In the stillness, blasters still trained on him, one of the soldiers addressed Brock in a bland and impersonal voice. "Stand down immediately, traveler, or risk summary execution."
Exceedingly cautious, Brock slowly released the soldier's arm and raised his hands in surrender. The administrative guard who had been questioning Jared approached Brock. He cast a look between the two of them.
"Do you know this man, traveler?" he asked Brock.
At the edge of Jared’s vision there was movement: Alona’s hand circling McNiven's wrist and squeezing. In the flicker of Brock's eyes, his gaze breaking away from Jared’s, Jared saw the moment Brock made his decision.
Brock cleared his throat. "No, sir," he said. He focused on the guard. "He was just a freight passenger."
Jared couldn't blame him, not even a little bit. Too many people had been taken into custody by Nekrotik's soldiers and never seen again, or never seen again with any memory of who they used to be. A wipe was permanent and irreversible, and the people who somehow did make it back after might just as well not.
The guard considered the two of them a moment longer, clearly judging Brock’s truthfulness, before nodding at one of the soldiers to continue. Brock and the others fell back, watching, as Jared was dragged out of the docking bay.
He was marched down a narrow, silver tube-like tunnel, where the only others present were soldiers and the higher-ranking guards. The air rang with the sound of booted feet. Nobody paid Jared any attention, too preoccupied with their own business, and Jared knew better than to think any of them would listen to his protests.
As they progressed deeper into the complex, Jared got a sinking feeling as he recognized all the signs of a detention block. When the soldiers brought him into a small interrogation cell, Jared was shoved into a chair and cuffed to the table.
Though he still didn’t know whether Jensen had any part in this, Jared was beginning to feel spooked enough to consider invoking Doctor Nekrotik’s name. But before he could decide whether that would effect an overall improvement in his situation, the soldiers were gone, and Jared was alone in the cell.
Aside from the perpetual low-level hum of energy, it was silent. The table in front of Jared was bare. There was no water left for him, let alone any food. Although the silver walls of the cell appeared empty, Jared had no doubt he was under surveillance. It was about as hospitable as Jared ever expected detention by Nekrotik’s soldiers to ever be.
He waited, mainly because there was nothing else he could do.
He waited and waited. Days seemed to pass, but surely were only be hours. He fidgeted but the cuff holding him at the table wouldn’t let him find a comfortable position. His spine ached in the straight-backed chair, as did the joints in his hips, his shoulders. He stared at the walls until his eyes burned, and then he stared at the ceiling. He huffed on the silver surface of the table and drew patterns in the patches of his condensed breath.
He shouted, for a while, but nobody came. They probably couldn’t even hear him in the passage outside. He fiddled with the cuff at the wrist, scratching his nail uselessly at the electric lock, twisting and contorting his hand into as small a shape he could in the hope of working it free, and ending up with nothing but a growing bruise.
After one last disgusted tug of his cuff, Jared sagged in his chair, closed his eyes, and waited.
:::
When someone finally entered the cell, Jared’s enthusiasm for some change of pace was dampened by the look of the man. A natural wariness kept Jared silent as he looked him over, reinforced by the arrival of two accompanying guards. He straightened up in his chair and waited.
The man was clearly higher in the chain of command than anyone Jared had dealt with so far. He was dressed conservatively in red and black robes, and his thin, lined face had a coolly ascetic appearance.
He sat across from Jared and set a datapad in front of himself.
"Jared Padalecki," he said. "You’ve been convicted of the murder of Prefect Lysander Temple, in Stantone, eleven years ago. For this crime, the punishment is death-"
Jared’s cuff dug painfully into his wrist as he shot forward in his seat. "What?" he cried out, desperately looking to the guards as if he might find some assistance there. But their blank, masked faces only stared back at him. "No! I’ve never even heard of-"
The official continued as if Jared hadn’t said so much as a word. "Execution is set for four hours time, at nineteen-hundred hours. However, this penalty-"
"You’ve got this all wrong!" Jared insisted. "Listen to me, this isn’t right. I’ve never heard of this guy, and I sure as hell didn’t kill him. This isn’t right, you can’t-"
"This penalty might be commuted to lifetime labor in a crystal mine if you cooperate with questioning and provide the names of your accomplices. This decision remains with-"
"Get Doctor Nekrotik," Jared said. The official paused for the first time, and Jared gathered his breath, and said again, "Get Doctor Nekrotik. I wanna talk to Doctor Nekrotik."
The official appraised Jared for a long moment. Even the guards appeared to be paying Jared more attention, though Jared couldn’t tell for sure beneath their helmets.
Then the official’s lips twitched into a thin smile. "Your request is denied. I’m not going to bother Doctor Nekrotik with a minor district matter. You have four hours before execution to decide whether you wish to cooperate."
As the official and the soldiers passed through the door, Jared tried to stand but the cuff pulled him up short.
"Doctor Nekrotik knows me, he’s not gonna let this happen!" he shouted after them, but they didn’t stop.
:::
Jared railed at the cell walls, screamed himself hoarse, but nobody came. He kicked his chair away and pulled on his cuff until he was sure he was going to break his wrist.
He was going to be executed. Cooperation wasn’t an option because he had nothing to tell them, because he had no fucking clue what they were talking about.
He racked his brains for anything he could remember about a prefect named Lysander Temple. The name seemed vaguely familiar but prefects on Stantone came and went frequently, and none of them wanted to have much to do with the inhabitants of the impoverished, crime-ridden town.
Was it possible that a prefect had been killed in the blast of one of Jared’s bombs? Jared was sure he’d have heard about it in that case. He’d have known the death was on him. Despite any big talk he’d given Chad, Jared had always tried to ensure he only bombed places, not people.
The few resistance missions that had brought Jared anywhere near the prefect’s block in the town had come without a bodycount. Not even so much as a dead security guard.
But Jared didn’t know how he was supposed to convince the official who’d sentenced him to execution of that. There hadn’t even been a trial, or any discussion of evidence.
And Jensen, who’d surely listen to Jared at the very least, was gone. Jared had no way of contacting him. Jensen wouldn’t come looking. He’d think Jared was with Brock, and he wouldn’t expect to hear from Jared.
Even Brock and the others would be gone by now.
Jared was going to be dead in four hours, and there was nothing he could do about it.
:::
The wait was agonizing. On the one hand, so long as he was waiting, he was alive. But on the other, Jared wanted another chance to argue his case, to somehow make it absolutely clear that he was innocent, of this at least.
His hands were clammy and he was sick to his stomach. He was scared, he realized. It was very different to being held by the slavers, different again to being Doctor Nekrotik’s captive. And it was nothing like any of the near misses he’d had as a minor terrorist. He’d had no idea how safely he’d been living in Stantone until these last few months. He’d been facing fates worse than death for a while now, so it was somehow surprising to learn that death could be about as unpleasant a fate as any.
Dying in this way was death by bureaucracy. He didn’t have Doctor Nekrotik to make him feel wrathful and defiant, and he didn’t have Jensen, being quietly, stubbornly heroic, either of which would have given him strength. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
With perfect clarity of mind, Jared decided that if he’d known he was going to be executed in a couple of days’ time anyway, he would have kissed Jensen back on the shuttle. He might just as well have done.
The cell door opened and Jared looked up, feeling a lurch in his belly that his last four hours had somehow passed already. The official stood in the doorway, flanked as usual by two soldiers. Two more soldiers were visible behind him.
The official eyed Jared’s overturned chair, lips thinning faintly in disapproval, before he looked back at Jared.
"Have you decided to cooperate?" he asked.
Jared scrambled to his feet. "I would cooperate if I knew anything about Prefect Temple. Please, can you just give me some details?"
The official raised an eyebrow. He almost seemed amused by the situation. "Prefect Lysander Temple happened to be the brother of Carlisle Temple, who, in turn, happens to be the prefect for this district." At Jared’s openly distraught expression, the official flashed another of those perfunctory smiles. "With that in mind, do you wish to reconsider your refusal to cooperate?"
Still reeling at the knowledge of just how soundly screwed he was, Jared shook his head. "I can’t, I don’t… please, I didn’t do this-"
The official turned away and gestured to the soldiers. "Take him for execution."
Jared struggled against the soldiers but it was useless. His hands were cuffed behind his back once more, and the soldiers seized him by his upper arms and dragged him out of the cell. He shouted his innocence as they hauled him down the passage, but found no friendly face, only more soldiers.
The room they brought Jared to was large and silver and utterly unremarkable, except for the execution chamber at the far wall. It was a tall, transparent box, with a metal grille floor and a suspended set of manacles.
Toxic gas, probably, Jared thought. Maybe an energy charge. The question of how they were going to kill him mattered more to Jared than it should. Dead was dead, after all. But he couldn't take his eyes off the chamber regardless, couldn’t help wondering.
Soldiers stood post around the room, while a handful of robed officials chatted together. They looked over as Jared was brought in, and despite their disinterested expressions, Jared couldn't help pleading with them.
"Please listen to me," he cried out, as the soldiers dragged him past. "I'm innocent! You can't do this!"
The senior official, plainly marked out by the richness of his dress, hesitated a moment in his conversation to look Jared over. Jared stared into the man's eyes, willing him to believe him, but he saw nothing but vengeful triumph there. This was the Prefect, brother of the man they thought Jared had murdered.
He was going to see Jared dead. Even if the others cared about a nobody like Jared, they weren't going to risk opposing the highest-ranking official in the district to try to save him. The prefect wanted Jared dead.
Pride warred with dignity and lost, and Jared let his legs go out from under him, until the soldiers had no choice but to all but carry him to the execution chamber. He thrashed and lashed out, making his body as hard a thing to hold on to as he could, until several of the guards were forced to rush forward to assist.
His heart was beating hard enough to blur his vision, and he shouted his innocence over and over, as if any of them cared. He knew that once they put him in that box it was all over. He’d die once they put him in that box. And he couldn't die like this. Not part of some stupid, clerical error, not after everything he'd survived.
While the Prefect was watching Jared's struggle, the door opened and a soldier hurried in, crossing quickly to the Prefect's side.
"Sir, there's a Captain Pellegrino here," said the soldier. He glanced over at Jared, before continuing. "He wants to speak on behalf of the prisoner. He says it's important."
It was a flash of hope, and in the moment Jared froze, never so glad to hear Pellegrino's name as now, the soldiers took the opportunity to drag his hands up to the manacles and slam them shut.
"No!" Jared shouted, his voice near hoarse. "Just let me speak to Pellegrino! Please! Just five minutes!"
A few of the officials present appeared mildly interested by this new development. However, ignoring Jared completely, the Prefect shook his head at the soldier.
"I don't need to hear him. The prisoner has been convicted and sentenced." He waved a hand towards the execution chamber. "Carry on."
The chamber door slid shut and Jared was sealed in. His own cries came back to him, distorted and warped. He kicked out, but though the sides of the chamber shuddered, they held. A soldier moved to the side of the chamber, did something at the control panel, and the whining hum of energy climbed in frequency.
Weak with helplessness, Jared kicked out again at the sides. The sight on the other side swam as the glass shivered under the impact. Under the rising whine of the energy powering the system, Jared found himself missing Stantone so hard it hurt. He missed Chad. And he missed Brock and McNiven and Gabe.
And he missed Jensen. He missed him. He didn't want to die missing Jensen.
Heat gathered at his wrists, just warmth at first but quickly becoming unbearable. Energy blast, then, Jared thought dimly. Not toxic gas. Burned from the inside out, just like Nekrotik. His spine arched under the torrents of energy searing through him, and his brain burst into flames.
:::
"Easy, easy. Mind his head."
"Nemec, get his legs."
There were people arguing. They sounded to be far away. Jared probably wasn't the best judge though, because that was definitely his body being moved around, but that felt far away too.
"Get a physician in here," someone shouted, and that sounded a little closer, so Jared opened his eyes.
"Hey," said Heafey, grinning down at him. "Can't take our eyes off you for a minute, can we?"
Nemec leaned over her shoulder, nudging her out of the way as he drew Jared's eyelids up in order to peer in his eyes.
"Seems responsive," he muttered. "Jared? Jared, do you know where you are? Do you remember me?"
Jared's mouth was dry when he tried to swallow. Even the idea of trying to sit up seemed laughable. Tremors he couldn't control were still shooting through his arms and legs, muscles jumping faintly.
"Nemec," Jared croaked. "You left."
"Alona and Brock got a message to us as soon as you were arrested," said Heafey. "Lucky for you they did. Couple of seconds more and we'd've been too late. Hell, you should be dead already."
She and Nemec shared a grim look, and as they moved, Jared realized he could make out the shape of the execution chamber behind them. A shiver passed through, entirely distinct from the aftershock of the energy blast.
Somewhere out of sight, those people were still arguing.
His memory began to put itself back together, still functioning beneath a perfectly recalled sensation of fear.
"They said Pellegrino was here," said Jared. "Where is he?"
He made a disoriented attempt at sitting up, but was stopped by Heafey's hand on his shoulder. "Wait for the physician to check you over." She inclined her head at something beyond Jared's range of vision. "The captain's with Jensen and the Prefect."
Jared did sit up then, and nearly passed out again. "Jensen's here?" he demanded, only half coherent due to the sickening lightness in his head.
Heafey grinned crookedly. "How'd you think we got to you? The guy knows military and penal code inside out. Soon as he heard you were in trouble, he requisitioned command of us from our CO and came right here." Her grin went wry. "Now if he could just convince the Prefect to let you go…" She tailed off.
Feeling very conscious of his brush with death thanks to his trembling and aching body, Jared turned carefully to get Jensen in view.
The other officials were gone, only the Prefect was left. Pellegrino was in uniform at Jensen's side, an unwitting stand-in for Jeff. He eyed the Prefect's guards with cool watchfulness, while they in turn hung close to their posts and seemed unsure what to make of Jensen, whether to respond to him as a threat or as a superior officer, or perhaps as both.
Jensen was ignoring them entirely and focusing on the Prefect, which was the arguing Jared had awoken to.
"You haven't even told me what he's charged with," Jensen snapped at the Prefect. "And that's leaving aside that there's no presentation of evidence, no process records, nothing! Exactly what kind of operation are you running here?"
There was a spiteful edge to Jensen's voice that Jared hadn't heard in a while, which knocked his instinctive relief at seeing him. In combination with the gloves, and the long, black coat Jensen was wearing, hood pushed back, it amazed Jared how anyone could look at him and not see who he was.
A pretty face was apparently all the disguise Doctor Nekrotik needed.
"He's been convicted of murder," the Prefect said, bristling with indignation. "And the penalty is-"
"Murder?" Jensen echoed.
Beside Jared, Nemec drew in a breath, while Heafey shifted uncomfortably. Even Pellegrino seemed taken aback, one eyebrow raised as he turned to look at Jared, considering him afresh.
Jensen spared Jared only a quick glance before he was back at the Prefect. He shook his head. "He didn't do it."
The unwavering certainty with which he said it at last made Jared able to feel very pleased to see him. Jared wasn't sure anybody else had ever believed in him like that. He felt wobbly and kind of inadequate, and wondered if he could blame it solely on recently being executed.
The Prefect, however, was unmoved. "And you know this for a fact, I suppose?"
"He's not a killer," Jensen said simply. He looked back at Jared, met his eyes for a longer moment, and his lips almost, almost twitched into a smile, a secret smile just for Jared. "Believe me, I'd know it if he was."
"I'm afraid your faith in him is misplaced. I have evidence," said the Prefect, slowly and deliberately, while his voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "Evidence that puts him at the scene-"
Every trace of softness in Jensen's demeanor evaporated, taking Jensen with it and leaving only Doctor Nekrotik behind, dangerous and displeased at being challenged. "What evidence? How can you prove something that didn't happen?" Jensen snarled.
The Prefect hesitated momentarily. The first flicker of doubt showed in his eyes. His hands clenched to impotent fists.
Jensen cocked his head at him, teeth bared in a poisonous smile. "I'm waiting, Prefect. Dazzle me with your evidence."
Wisdom had once told Jared to learn to read Jensen's - Doctor Nekrotik's - moods. So far, they'd been pretty obviously delineated. There was the mood Jensen had been in when he ordered the firebombing of Nigellus 8, and there was the one where he wanted to risk his own life to rescue innocent prisoners.
And now there was this. A blurred mood. The closest to it Jared had ever seen was the very first time he'd met Jensen, where Jensen had been self-assured but cooperative, not a nice guy but not an evil one either.
Jared supposed he should have expected this. Jensen himself had told him the rising levels of crystal in his system would change him back. But there was that feeling Jared had had before he died, of badly missing Jensen, he could feel it twinge inside him again, even while Jensen was stood just a few feet away.
"His fingerprints were all over the blaster that was used in the murder," the Prefect said finally.
Jensen made a disgusted noise, his eyes narrowing. "Along with how many other people's? It's Stantone. Property gets stolen and passed on from one person to the next. They're thieves and scavengers, that's how they survive."
He scoffed again and threw his hands up. He paced a few steps away, seeming to gather his composure. "Just so I'm absolutely clear on this. Basically, you tried to execute Jared because he's the first person from Stantone to come through your district and you decided he was as likely to be guilty as anyone?"
Affronted, the Prefect drew himself up sharply at the question. "His fingerprints were on the weapon used to murder-"
Jensen put up his hand to silence him. "Enough. I've heard enough of your inadequate excuses, Prefect. Jared's leaving with me. And I think perhaps a full review of your corrupt practices is in order. Maybe we'll see if you do any better on Stantone than your late brother did."
It was debatable whether it was the final threat that knocked the Prefect into red-faced, scandalized rage, or Jensen's overall attitude of peevish dissatisfaction. By Jared's eye, it seemed that Pellegrino's loosely protective stance had tightened into something more ready for combat. Nemec and Heafey were certainly responding to some cue in his behavior, moving closer to Jared.
If there was going to be a fight, Jared really hoped Doctor Nekrotik would stay out of it.
"May I ask on whose authority you think you're going to implement these orders?" the Prefect demanded. "Just who are you supposed to be anyway, Commander Ackles? I'd like to make sure you're in a position to be giving these orders, because I'm sure you’re aware of the penalty for mutiny and insubordination, which is what this is tantamount to."
Drawing in a breath, Jared tensed. Surely Jensen wasn't going to tell the truth. Surely he couldn't let all of these people know what Doctor Nekrotik looked like without his mask. Unless, Jared realized with a cold stab of dread, he was planning to wipe them all. Perhaps the Prefect or the guards, but surely Jensen wouldn't wipe Pellegrino or Heafey or Nemec, these people who were almost friends to them now.
If it were only Jensen, Jared would be certain of it. But Doctor Nekrotik was in the room as well, and Jared hadn’t even begun to figure out what he was capable of.
If he was conscious of everybody's gazes on him, Jensen didn't show it. He held the Prefect's eyes as he curled his tongue into the corner of his mouth, considering.
Then he shrugged, as if it was no matter at all, and said, "I'm Doctor Nekrotik's chief science advisor."
The mere invocation of the name froze the atmosphere in the room. The Prefect blanched. The other guards present shifted nervously, and even Pellegrino's eyes went wide. Jared caught Heafey's eyes on him, saw her nudge Nemec unobtrusively. They were wondering about him again. They'd no more suspect Jared of being Doctor Nekrotik than they would Jensen, which was pretty funny in a horrifying kind of way, but the revelation of who Jensen was obviously made Jared even more interesting to them.
Tugging at the collar of his robe while trying to appear unfazed, the Prefect said, "We searched your name in the system, Commander Ackles. That wasn't mentioned in your record. You have, uh, I suppose, some way to verify your claim?"
"My claim?" Jensen echoed mockingly. He cocked his head again, in that alien way of his, a gesture that was pure Nekrotik. "Would you like Doctor Nekrotik himself to 'verify my claim'?"
"Isn't there some other way?" Jared cut in for the first time, over the top of the Prefect's strangled attempts to assure Jensen that wouldn't be necessary. Any ingrained instinct Jared had keep his mouth shut around people in positions of authority was overridden by his desire to keep Nekrotik's presence constrained to Jensen's attitude.
At the sound of Jared's voice, Jensen looked over at him abruptly. He gazed at Jared blankly for a second, looking almost confused, then he blinked, and out of nowhere, he smiled at Jared again.
Heaving a sigh of long-suffering patience, Jensen turned back to the Prefect. "Doctor Nekrotik would not appreciate being called away from his work. It's not a call I'd want to make, but it's one you'd enjoy even less. However, Chief Commander Morgan or Commander Kane will also back me up."
The Prefect bobbed his head in a nod. "That will be sufficient," he said, in as unruffled a tone as he could summon up after being threatened with Doctor Nekrotik's displeasure. "Once we've established that you are who you say you are, I'll release the prisoner into your custody."
He motioned for Jensen to accompany him, but he held up a hand when Pellegrino made to follow. His smile was rather sickly as he addressed Jensen. "This is a top-rank communication. Your escort and the prisoner will be quite safe here."
Jensen beckoned towards Nemec and Heafey to follow regardless. "Jared and my people will come with me. I don't want to run the risk of any…" He paused, then, deadly amused, finished with, "unfortunate incidents."
They filed out into the silver corridors, and somehow Jensen contrived to have Jared at his side within a matter of seconds. They were far from alone, but it felt like the first chance they had to talk.
"Are you okay?" said Jared.
Jensen shot him a sidelong look, eyes glittering with amusement. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You know you did just get executed? I know you were passed out and missed all the excitement, but-"
"You seem a little, uh, mood-swingy," Jared broke in. He bit his lip awkwardly and shrugged. "I just mean, how are you doing?"
Jensen cast an unobtrusive glance over his shoulder to see how overheard they were before he answered. "I had to take on some crystal to keep you alive, plus you needed healing," he said in an undertone. "It's sped things up a little, but only a little."
Jared nodded, digesting the information. He swallowed hard, his legs still feeling shivery under him. Without looking at Jensen, he said, "Thanks. For coming." He rolled his eyes at himself, flushing a little, and added what his conscience said was required. "For saving my life again."
When Jared turned to him, Jensen's head was bowed, lips pursed together pink, like he was trying not to smile. "You're welcome, Jared." He looked up and held Jared's eyes. He seemed about to say more, before noticing Pellegrino just a few steps behind them, and Nemec and Heafey not far behind him.
Any chance for further conversation was cut off, and Jared was cowardly grateful for that.
At the Prefect's entrance, the two soldiers in the communications room snapped to attention. They seemed ill at ease around him and kept their gazes face-forward. They remained standing until he gestured them back to the computer panel.
"Put a call through to Commander Kane," he said.
There was only a very slight hesitation before the soldiers obeyed, but it was noticeable: hands hovering just barely over the display before they began to work. It was unlikely they’d ever had to contact anyone of higher standing than the commander of any passing cruiser.
After a few moments, the large screen on the wall flickered away from a revolving image of a star chart, to a middle-aged woman in red-and-black uniform. She didn't bear so much as a passing resemblance to Kane.
"What do you want, Prefect?" she said, sounding a few seconds away from outright irritation. "Commander Kane is very busy, not to mention that you're leapfrogging several very significant levels of command in contacting him instead of your direct superior."
The Prefect quailed somewhat at this less than friendly response, though he managed to maintain his dignity. He waved a hand towards Jensen, who was waiting off to the side, looking mildly disinterested in the whole proceedings.
"I have an officer here who's opposing the execution of a convicted murderer-"
"Hey!" Jared protested without thinking. With a soft, exasperated noise, Jensen smoothly stepped down hard on Jared's foot, and Jared shut up.
Satisfied that Jared wasn't going to interrupt again, the Prefect gave him a hateful look, before turning back to the officer on the screen. "He assured me that Commander Kane could verify his claim of being-"
Jensen moved into view, and cut briskly over the Prefect. "Brigadier, put me through to Commander Kane. Do it now."
There it was again, that Nekrotik tone that conveyed 'or else' at the end of every order, without ever having to say it. Jared drew in a shuddering breath and subtly shifted his body away from Jensen's.
The woman on the screen blinked. Her mouth opened, and Jared braced for her stinging refusal. Then she eyed Jensen more carefully, before giving a barbed smile.
"It's your funeral," she said, tapped a button in front of herself and the screen went blank.
Minutes passed. Two, maybe three.
The screen flickered again and Kane appeared on it finally, looking harassed and intent on the datapad in his hand.
"This had better be about me winning the Paelos Power-Blast Twenty Gillion Lottery," he growled.
"More awesome than that," said Jensen, serene and sunny at once.
Kane looked up sharply, stared for a second, then his face creased into a huge smile. He laughed and leaned in, as if to get a better look at Jensen. "Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes? Where the hell have you been? Jeff's been going fucking crazy-" He broke off, shouted at someone off-screen, "Hey, hey, get Chief Commander Morgan in here!"
Jensen waved a hand, trying to stop him, but it was no good. Kane was all motion and excitement.
"You're on the Tantalus Station," said Kane, checking his display. He frowned. "What the fuck are you doing on the Tantalus?"
Jensen shook his head and sighed. "Long story. Really, really long story. There were…" He gestured helplessly, as if unable to encompass the sheer scope of his tale. "Mutant slavers, and jailbreaks, and just some general craziness. And I was on my way back to you, but the Prefect here’s trying to execute Jared on some bogus murder-"
Kane raised an eyebrow. "Jared’s with you?"
Jensen glanced over at Jared, evidently surprised by the question, then back to Kane. "Yeah, and I need you to confirm for the Prefect here that I have the authority to have him released from custody-"
But Kane was already shaking his head, and Jared was sure he had to be shaking his head about something other than getting Jared released. He had to be. He eyed the door and wondered how far he could get and whether it was worth trying to run.
"No can do," said Kane. "I have very specific orders."
Jensen’s eyes narrowed. "What orders? From whom?"
"Jeff. He was pretty vocal on the subject. If Jared was ever recovered alive, Jeff wanted him delivered to him. Personally."
The bottom dropped out of Jared’s stomach. That was a fate worse than death he hadn’t considered yet. In his peripheral vision, he was conscious of Nemec and Heafey sharing a look.
So Jeff was out for his blood, which just made him even more interesting. Protected by Doctor Nekrotik’s chief science advisor, and of personal, undoubtedly hostile, concern to Doctor Nekrotik’s bodyguard.
"No," said Jensen. "I think we can skip that. Jared has…" He wet his lips, fiercely ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. "He has people waiting for him, and I intend to see he reaches them."
Kane shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry. Like I said, Jeff was real clear on the subject. Only one person in a position to countermand any order Jeff gives me, you know that." There was a leading note in Kane’s voice that Jensen didn’t respond to, leaving Kane obliged to push further. "So should I expect to hear from Doctor Nekrotik sometime soon?"
And Jensen, for some reason, looked straight at Jared, all wide green-eyed uncertainty.
It took Jared a moment to realize that, while Kane was simply questioning his mental state, Jensen was interpreting it as a choice.
He could remain Jensen, and Jared would be delivered to Jeff, for god knows what kind of retribution, because Jeff was not going to be happy about Jared throwing Jensen out an airlock.
Or Jensen could go back under and become Nekrotik, and Jared would, possibly, go free, depending on what kind of mood Nekrotik came back in. Depending on whether Nekrotik even gave Jared a moment’s consideration before he picked up his tyrannical rule of the galaxy again.
As far as Jared was concerned, there was no choice. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Jensen pursed his lips, still seeming doubtful, and Jared shook his head again.
"Doctor Nekrotik is currently indisposed with his research," Jensen told Kane at last. "Jared will remain in custody, alive and unharmed." Jensen gave the Prefect meaningful look at this point.
On screen, Kane nodded, began tapping at the console in front of him. "Okay, I’m sending a cruiser to your location. It’ll pick you and Jared up and transport you back to us. And you, Prefect," Kane stabbed a finger in his direction, "Commander Ackles can do whatever he damn well pleases on your station, short of letting Jared go. You piss him off, you piss me off and I don’t need to go into detail about why you didn’t wanna do that, do I?"
The Prefect gave a short, twitchy shake of his head. "No, sir." His gaze didn’t so much as stray in Jensen or Jared’s direction. Whatever obedience Jensen might expect from him, any friendliness from this point on was clearly out of the question.
Kane nodded, satisfied, and grinned at Jensen again. "Great. We’ll see you real soon then. Looking forward to it. Gonna want to hear it all."
The screen went blank. The room was silent. Jensen stared at the screen a moment longer. Then he sighed and tried to look reassuring as he turned to Jared.
"I’ll fix this," he said. He sighed again. "Somehow."
next
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Rule 26 (12/?)
(J2 au)
There was no easy way to explain to someone that you'd actually only pulled them into bed with you because you were drunk and that you'd never have done it sober. Unfortunately, it was entirely necessary for Jared to explain just that to Brock, because he'd only just been released from one relationship he'd never had any intention of being in, and he really didn't need another.
He was gentle, but firm. Told Brock that it was nothing personal, that he hadn't been thinking clearly at the time and that he hoped that that was cool with Brock.
He didn't mention Jensen's name in the conversation, not once, not even when Brock said, it's because of him, isn't it?. In hindsight, Jared thought he should have made Brock clarify who exactly he meant. He shouldn't have left it as a given that there was something, anything at all, between him and Jensen.
On the other hand, maybe inviting too much exploration of Jared's relationship with Jensen wasn't a good idea either.
Because Nekrotik's fleet was on high alert - no doubt due to the recent disappearance of their high commander - sector control was tight, so their shuttle was delayed in docking at the Tantalus station. This meant Jared had to endure being trapped onboard with a hurt and disappointed Brock, who kept shooting him furtive looks, which happened to be also totally obvious to everybody else present.
Jared wasn't sure whether he was made more uncomfortable by Brock's visible upset, or the fact that everyone else on the shuttle thought they knew what was going on.
So Jared took refuge in the kitchen, where he stoically devoured one nutripak after another.
"You're gonna get fat you keep eating those."
He looked up, and froze in mid-chew when he saw Alona watching him. He studied her face to see how likely it was that she'd come out here to pick a fight with him. Jared was already sure he knew her opinion on the matter and it wasn't going to make him feel any better to hear it again.
He continued watching her as she leaned herself up against the counter opposite him.
"You didn't have to ditch 'em both, you know," she said lightly. "Just choosing one would'a been acceptable."
Jared sucked in a noisy breath and resumed chewing. "No offence, but did you come out here for anything in particular?"
She looked at him a moment longer, something surprisingly like regret on her face, before she said, "Devine says we're cleared for docking, but we should expect some pretty heavy security on board the station." Then she was gone.
Jared wondered about the heavy security, about whether it was because they were still looking for Jensen, or whether it was because their galactic dictator had unexpectedly just shown up in a remote space station in a dull stretch of space.
He wondered about it even more when he stepped off the shuttle into the Tantalus docking bay and saw just how heavy security was.
"Wow," said McNiven.
She stared at the stationary, sprawling lines of travelers, which were bottlenecked into manned security points at the entrance to the main body of the station. Visibly armed soldiers in red and black patrolled between each line, faceless beneath their masks as they surveyed the throng.
"This is gonna take hours," she said.
"That's not the problem you should be worrying about," said Brock grimly, coming up just behind Jared. He threw a warning look over them all as he spoke. "If anyone here has a history that might make an identity check a cause for concern, they might wanna rethink us stopping."
Devine shook her head. Her gaze was fixed on the roving soldiers. "That crate's not gonna fly us much further, boy, certainly not into open space. Our best option's to sell it for scrap and get ourselves picked up as freight."
"They might ask us some questions," said Chad, exchanging a glance with Gabe. "Shouldn't have anything to hold us on." He looked to Brock and Alona. "You guys gonna be okay?"
It surprised Jared that nobody asked him. He was curious what they thought his story was, what history they'd filled in from knowing that he'd arrived with Jensen and that Jensen had left with Nekrotik's soldiers.
While Jared’s criminal record was extensive, there was nothing pending, as far as he knew. It was possible Jensen had added something, perhaps while he was Nekrotik, after he'd kidnapped Jared. Maybe an if found, please return to… note. There was only one way he was going to find out. Jared sighed and carded his fingers through his hair; Devine was right, going back wasn't an option.
It was a long, tiring wait. Sara's little girl went through a period of bored bad behavior, which wore down everybody else's temper, before she wore herself out to fretful tearfulness. The rest of them kept conversation to a minimum and eyed the soldiers warily as they gradually approached the security point.
Through the entrance to the space station, Jared could see the lower half of a statue he recognized: Doctor Nekrotik, set to greet visitors with the certainty that even out here they were not beyond his reach.
"Wish Jensen had stuck around," Gabe muttered at Jared's side. "We could'a done with his help."
Jared's attention snapped to him. "What do you mean?" he said sharply.
Overhearing the conversation on the other side, Chad snorted and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, dude, don't play dumb. Pellegrino's hand was practically twitching any time he saw Jensen 'cause he wanted to salute him so bad. Jensen was an officer, we all saw it. Only real question is what he was doing with you, 'cause you're really obviously not."
If they were genuinely expecting an answer, they were disappointed. Jared turned his attention back to the carved boots and coat hemline that was all that was visible of Nekrotik's statue through the doorway.
He didn't know what Jensen had wanted with him either. He should stick to dating ambassadors, not pick up the petty resistance fighters from shithole planets who were trying to kidnap him.
"Head's up," said Brock. "McNiven's going through."
As a group, they'd decided to send through first those least likely to be stopped by the soldiers as a security concern. Brock and the others would appear more respectable if they were traveling with law-abiding citizens like McNiven, while she and the others would already be processed before the potential trouble could begin.
Along with Brock and Alona, Chad and Gabe, Jared watched as McNiven and the others were scanned and body-searched and questioned. It was a long, tedious process, made more so by the lack of any identification papers to offer, and Brock was fidgeting and tense by the time it was finally his turn.
Jared saw him grin as a soldier beckoned him forward, and he hoped that Brock was smart enough to realize that his charm in itself was pretty incriminating.
"Oh god, this is bad, this is so bad," Gabe muttered in a low breath. His voice was muffled by his absent-minded chewing on the cuff of his jacket.
"It'll be fine," said Jared. "Just keep it together." He offered a polite smile as a soldier gestured for him to come forward, and, heart pounding in his chest, he tried to follow his own advice.
While two soldiers hung back, heavy blasters cradled expertly in their arms lest Jared should cause any trouble, a third soldier, wearing a uniform cap in place of a helmet, briskly ran through a series of questions, which unsurprisingly sounded more like orders.
Brock's voice floated over from the checkpoint next to Jared's as he chatted animatedly to the guard. He was eliciting little response but at least the guard's attitude seemed to tend more towards irritation than suspicion.
"From Xas 12, the Stantone township?" said the soldier questioning Jared. His tone had developed an edge, and he regarded Jared with fresh interest.
Jared looked away from Brock, gave another uncertain smile as he nodded. "Yeah, that's right."
The soldier studied something on his screen. "You were resident there eleven years ago, in year 756 Ligorian Calendar?"
Brock had been finished with and was now waiting with McNiven and the others, who were anxiously watching Jared's exchange with the soldier.
Jared nodded again, with the unsettling feeling that this latest complication had nothing to do with Jensen. When he answered, he kept his tone polite. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
Ignoring Jared, the soldier flicked a hand at the guards waiting behind him. "Take him."
"Wait!" Jared shouted as the soldiers approached him. "What's this about? You can't just-"
"Be aware, traveler: if you resist you risk summary execution," one of the armed soldiers informed Jared, while the other twisted Jared's hands behind him, and Jared was cuffed before it even entered his brain to fight.
McNiven rushed to the other side of the barrier, her gaze darting between Jared and the soldiers. She kept pace as the soldiers hauled Jared away. "Where are you taking him? What’s he done?"
"You can't do this! Tell us where you’re fucking taking him!" Brock shouted. Impulsively, he reached out over the barrier, caught hold of one of the soldier's elbow, and was instantly staring down the muzzle of fifteen blasters, trained right on him.
All sound and motion in the docking bay dropped off. His breath shuddering out of him hard, Jared met Brock's gaze. Brock stared back at him, stricken.
In the stillness, blasters still trained on him, one of the soldiers addressed Brock in a bland and impersonal voice. "Stand down immediately, traveler, or risk summary execution."
Exceedingly cautious, Brock slowly released the soldier's arm and raised his hands in surrender. The administrative guard who had been questioning Jared approached Brock. He cast a look between the two of them.
"Do you know this man, traveler?" he asked Brock.
At the edge of Jared’s vision there was movement: Alona’s hand circling McNiven's wrist and squeezing. In the flicker of Brock's eyes, his gaze breaking away from Jared’s, Jared saw the moment Brock made his decision.
Brock cleared his throat. "No, sir," he said. He focused on the guard. "He was just a freight passenger."
Jared couldn't blame him, not even a little bit. Too many people had been taken into custody by Nekrotik's soldiers and never seen again, or never seen again with any memory of who they used to be. A wipe was permanent and irreversible, and the people who somehow did make it back after might just as well not.
The guard considered the two of them a moment longer, clearly judging Brock’s truthfulness, before nodding at one of the soldiers to continue. Brock and the others fell back, watching, as Jared was dragged out of the docking bay.
He was marched down a narrow, silver tube-like tunnel, where the only others present were soldiers and the higher-ranking guards. The air rang with the sound of booted feet. Nobody paid Jared any attention, too preoccupied with their own business, and Jared knew better than to think any of them would listen to his protests.
As they progressed deeper into the complex, Jared got a sinking feeling as he recognized all the signs of a detention block. When the soldiers brought him into a small interrogation cell, Jared was shoved into a chair and cuffed to the table.
Though he still didn’t know whether Jensen had any part in this, Jared was beginning to feel spooked enough to consider invoking Doctor Nekrotik’s name. But before he could decide whether that would effect an overall improvement in his situation, the soldiers were gone, and Jared was alone in the cell.
Aside from the perpetual low-level hum of energy, it was silent. The table in front of Jared was bare. There was no water left for him, let alone any food. Although the silver walls of the cell appeared empty, Jared had no doubt he was under surveillance. It was about as hospitable as Jared ever expected detention by Nekrotik’s soldiers to ever be.
He waited, mainly because there was nothing else he could do.
He waited and waited. Days seemed to pass, but surely were only be hours. He fidgeted but the cuff holding him at the table wouldn’t let him find a comfortable position. His spine ached in the straight-backed chair, as did the joints in his hips, his shoulders. He stared at the walls until his eyes burned, and then he stared at the ceiling. He huffed on the silver surface of the table and drew patterns in the patches of his condensed breath.
He shouted, for a while, but nobody came. They probably couldn’t even hear him in the passage outside. He fiddled with the cuff at the wrist, scratching his nail uselessly at the electric lock, twisting and contorting his hand into as small a shape he could in the hope of working it free, and ending up with nothing but a growing bruise.
After one last disgusted tug of his cuff, Jared sagged in his chair, closed his eyes, and waited.
:::
When someone finally entered the cell, Jared’s enthusiasm for some change of pace was dampened by the look of the man. A natural wariness kept Jared silent as he looked him over, reinforced by the arrival of two accompanying guards. He straightened up in his chair and waited.
The man was clearly higher in the chain of command than anyone Jared had dealt with so far. He was dressed conservatively in red and black robes, and his thin, lined face had a coolly ascetic appearance.
He sat across from Jared and set a datapad in front of himself.
"Jared Padalecki," he said. "You’ve been convicted of the murder of Prefect Lysander Temple, in Stantone, eleven years ago. For this crime, the punishment is death-"
Jared’s cuff dug painfully into his wrist as he shot forward in his seat. "What?" he cried out, desperately looking to the guards as if he might find some assistance there. But their blank, masked faces only stared back at him. "No! I’ve never even heard of-"
The official continued as if Jared hadn’t said so much as a word. "Execution is set for four hours time, at nineteen-hundred hours. However, this penalty-"
"You’ve got this all wrong!" Jared insisted. "Listen to me, this isn’t right. I’ve never heard of this guy, and I sure as hell didn’t kill him. This isn’t right, you can’t-"
"This penalty might be commuted to lifetime labor in a crystal mine if you cooperate with questioning and provide the names of your accomplices. This decision remains with-"
"Get Doctor Nekrotik," Jared said. The official paused for the first time, and Jared gathered his breath, and said again, "Get Doctor Nekrotik. I wanna talk to Doctor Nekrotik."
The official appraised Jared for a long moment. Even the guards appeared to be paying Jared more attention, though Jared couldn’t tell for sure beneath their helmets.
Then the official’s lips twitched into a thin smile. "Your request is denied. I’m not going to bother Doctor Nekrotik with a minor district matter. You have four hours before execution to decide whether you wish to cooperate."
As the official and the soldiers passed through the door, Jared tried to stand but the cuff pulled him up short.
"Doctor Nekrotik knows me, he’s not gonna let this happen!" he shouted after them, but they didn’t stop.
:::
Jared railed at the cell walls, screamed himself hoarse, but nobody came. He kicked his chair away and pulled on his cuff until he was sure he was going to break his wrist.
He was going to be executed. Cooperation wasn’t an option because he had nothing to tell them, because he had no fucking clue what they were talking about.
He racked his brains for anything he could remember about a prefect named Lysander Temple. The name seemed vaguely familiar but prefects on Stantone came and went frequently, and none of them wanted to have much to do with the inhabitants of the impoverished, crime-ridden town.
Was it possible that a prefect had been killed in the blast of one of Jared’s bombs? Jared was sure he’d have heard about it in that case. He’d have known the death was on him. Despite any big talk he’d given Chad, Jared had always tried to ensure he only bombed places, not people.
The few resistance missions that had brought Jared anywhere near the prefect’s block in the town had come without a bodycount. Not even so much as a dead security guard.
But Jared didn’t know how he was supposed to convince the official who’d sentenced him to execution of that. There hadn’t even been a trial, or any discussion of evidence.
And Jensen, who’d surely listen to Jared at the very least, was gone. Jared had no way of contacting him. Jensen wouldn’t come looking. He’d think Jared was with Brock, and he wouldn’t expect to hear from Jared.
Even Brock and the others would be gone by now.
Jared was going to be dead in four hours, and there was nothing he could do about it.
:::
The wait was agonizing. On the one hand, so long as he was waiting, he was alive. But on the other, Jared wanted another chance to argue his case, to somehow make it absolutely clear that he was innocent, of this at least.
His hands were clammy and he was sick to his stomach. He was scared, he realized. It was very different to being held by the slavers, different again to being Doctor Nekrotik’s captive. And it was nothing like any of the near misses he’d had as a minor terrorist. He’d had no idea how safely he’d been living in Stantone until these last few months. He’d been facing fates worse than death for a while now, so it was somehow surprising to learn that death could be about as unpleasant a fate as any.
Dying in this way was death by bureaucracy. He didn’t have Doctor Nekrotik to make him feel wrathful and defiant, and he didn’t have Jensen, being quietly, stubbornly heroic, either of which would have given him strength. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
With perfect clarity of mind, Jared decided that if he’d known he was going to be executed in a couple of days’ time anyway, he would have kissed Jensen back on the shuttle. He might just as well have done.
The cell door opened and Jared looked up, feeling a lurch in his belly that his last four hours had somehow passed already. The official stood in the doorway, flanked as usual by two soldiers. Two more soldiers were visible behind him.
The official eyed Jared’s overturned chair, lips thinning faintly in disapproval, before he looked back at Jared.
"Have you decided to cooperate?" he asked.
Jared scrambled to his feet. "I would cooperate if I knew anything about Prefect Temple. Please, can you just give me some details?"
The official raised an eyebrow. He almost seemed amused by the situation. "Prefect Lysander Temple happened to be the brother of Carlisle Temple, who, in turn, happens to be the prefect for this district." At Jared’s openly distraught expression, the official flashed another of those perfunctory smiles. "With that in mind, do you wish to reconsider your refusal to cooperate?"
Still reeling at the knowledge of just how soundly screwed he was, Jared shook his head. "I can’t, I don’t… please, I didn’t do this-"
The official turned away and gestured to the soldiers. "Take him for execution."
Jared struggled against the soldiers but it was useless. His hands were cuffed behind his back once more, and the soldiers seized him by his upper arms and dragged him out of the cell. He shouted his innocence as they hauled him down the passage, but found no friendly face, only more soldiers.
The room they brought Jared to was large and silver and utterly unremarkable, except for the execution chamber at the far wall. It was a tall, transparent box, with a metal grille floor and a suspended set of manacles.
Toxic gas, probably, Jared thought. Maybe an energy charge. The question of how they were going to kill him mattered more to Jared than it should. Dead was dead, after all. But he couldn't take his eyes off the chamber regardless, couldn’t help wondering.
Soldiers stood post around the room, while a handful of robed officials chatted together. They looked over as Jared was brought in, and despite their disinterested expressions, Jared couldn't help pleading with them.
"Please listen to me," he cried out, as the soldiers dragged him past. "I'm innocent! You can't do this!"
The senior official, plainly marked out by the richness of his dress, hesitated a moment in his conversation to look Jared over. Jared stared into the man's eyes, willing him to believe him, but he saw nothing but vengeful triumph there. This was the Prefect, brother of the man they thought Jared had murdered.
He was going to see Jared dead. Even if the others cared about a nobody like Jared, they weren't going to risk opposing the highest-ranking official in the district to try to save him. The prefect wanted Jared dead.
Pride warred with dignity and lost, and Jared let his legs go out from under him, until the soldiers had no choice but to all but carry him to the execution chamber. He thrashed and lashed out, making his body as hard a thing to hold on to as he could, until several of the guards were forced to rush forward to assist.
His heart was beating hard enough to blur his vision, and he shouted his innocence over and over, as if any of them cared. He knew that once they put him in that box it was all over. He’d die once they put him in that box. And he couldn't die like this. Not part of some stupid, clerical error, not after everything he'd survived.
While the Prefect was watching Jared's struggle, the door opened and a soldier hurried in, crossing quickly to the Prefect's side.
"Sir, there's a Captain Pellegrino here," said the soldier. He glanced over at Jared, before continuing. "He wants to speak on behalf of the prisoner. He says it's important."
It was a flash of hope, and in the moment Jared froze, never so glad to hear Pellegrino's name as now, the soldiers took the opportunity to drag his hands up to the manacles and slam them shut.
"No!" Jared shouted, his voice near hoarse. "Just let me speak to Pellegrino! Please! Just five minutes!"
A few of the officials present appeared mildly interested by this new development. However, ignoring Jared completely, the Prefect shook his head at the soldier.
"I don't need to hear him. The prisoner has been convicted and sentenced." He waved a hand towards the execution chamber. "Carry on."
The chamber door slid shut and Jared was sealed in. His own cries came back to him, distorted and warped. He kicked out, but though the sides of the chamber shuddered, they held. A soldier moved to the side of the chamber, did something at the control panel, and the whining hum of energy climbed in frequency.
Weak with helplessness, Jared kicked out again at the sides. The sight on the other side swam as the glass shivered under the impact. Under the rising whine of the energy powering the system, Jared found himself missing Stantone so hard it hurt. He missed Chad. And he missed Brock and McNiven and Gabe.
And he missed Jensen. He missed him. He didn't want to die missing Jensen.
Heat gathered at his wrists, just warmth at first but quickly becoming unbearable. Energy blast, then, Jared thought dimly. Not toxic gas. Burned from the inside out, just like Nekrotik. His spine arched under the torrents of energy searing through him, and his brain burst into flames.
:::
"Easy, easy. Mind his head."
"Nemec, get his legs."
There were people arguing. They sounded to be far away. Jared probably wasn't the best judge though, because that was definitely his body being moved around, but that felt far away too.
"Get a physician in here," someone shouted, and that sounded a little closer, so Jared opened his eyes.
"Hey," said Heafey, grinning down at him. "Can't take our eyes off you for a minute, can we?"
Nemec leaned over her shoulder, nudging her out of the way as he drew Jared's eyelids up in order to peer in his eyes.
"Seems responsive," he muttered. "Jared? Jared, do you know where you are? Do you remember me?"
Jared's mouth was dry when he tried to swallow. Even the idea of trying to sit up seemed laughable. Tremors he couldn't control were still shooting through his arms and legs, muscles jumping faintly.
"Nemec," Jared croaked. "You left."
"Alona and Brock got a message to us as soon as you were arrested," said Heafey. "Lucky for you they did. Couple of seconds more and we'd've been too late. Hell, you should be dead already."
She and Nemec shared a grim look, and as they moved, Jared realized he could make out the shape of the execution chamber behind them. A shiver passed through, entirely distinct from the aftershock of the energy blast.
Somewhere out of sight, those people were still arguing.
His memory began to put itself back together, still functioning beneath a perfectly recalled sensation of fear.
"They said Pellegrino was here," said Jared. "Where is he?"
He made a disoriented attempt at sitting up, but was stopped by Heafey's hand on his shoulder. "Wait for the physician to check you over." She inclined her head at something beyond Jared's range of vision. "The captain's with Jensen and the Prefect."
Jared did sit up then, and nearly passed out again. "Jensen's here?" he demanded, only half coherent due to the sickening lightness in his head.
Heafey grinned crookedly. "How'd you think we got to you? The guy knows military and penal code inside out. Soon as he heard you were in trouble, he requisitioned command of us from our CO and came right here." Her grin went wry. "Now if he could just convince the Prefect to let you go…" She tailed off.
Feeling very conscious of his brush with death thanks to his trembling and aching body, Jared turned carefully to get Jensen in view.
The other officials were gone, only the Prefect was left. Pellegrino was in uniform at Jensen's side, an unwitting stand-in for Jeff. He eyed the Prefect's guards with cool watchfulness, while they in turn hung close to their posts and seemed unsure what to make of Jensen, whether to respond to him as a threat or as a superior officer, or perhaps as both.
Jensen was ignoring them entirely and focusing on the Prefect, which was the arguing Jared had awoken to.
"You haven't even told me what he's charged with," Jensen snapped at the Prefect. "And that's leaving aside that there's no presentation of evidence, no process records, nothing! Exactly what kind of operation are you running here?"
There was a spiteful edge to Jensen's voice that Jared hadn't heard in a while, which knocked his instinctive relief at seeing him. In combination with the gloves, and the long, black coat Jensen was wearing, hood pushed back, it amazed Jared how anyone could look at him and not see who he was.
A pretty face was apparently all the disguise Doctor Nekrotik needed.
"He's been convicted of murder," the Prefect said, bristling with indignation. "And the penalty is-"
"Murder?" Jensen echoed.
Beside Jared, Nemec drew in a breath, while Heafey shifted uncomfortably. Even Pellegrino seemed taken aback, one eyebrow raised as he turned to look at Jared, considering him afresh.
Jensen spared Jared only a quick glance before he was back at the Prefect. He shook his head. "He didn't do it."
The unwavering certainty with which he said it at last made Jared able to feel very pleased to see him. Jared wasn't sure anybody else had ever believed in him like that. He felt wobbly and kind of inadequate, and wondered if he could blame it solely on recently being executed.
The Prefect, however, was unmoved. "And you know this for a fact, I suppose?"
"He's not a killer," Jensen said simply. He looked back at Jared, met his eyes for a longer moment, and his lips almost, almost twitched into a smile, a secret smile just for Jared. "Believe me, I'd know it if he was."
"I'm afraid your faith in him is misplaced. I have evidence," said the Prefect, slowly and deliberately, while his voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "Evidence that puts him at the scene-"
Every trace of softness in Jensen's demeanor evaporated, taking Jensen with it and leaving only Doctor Nekrotik behind, dangerous and displeased at being challenged. "What evidence? How can you prove something that didn't happen?" Jensen snarled.
The Prefect hesitated momentarily. The first flicker of doubt showed in his eyes. His hands clenched to impotent fists.
Jensen cocked his head at him, teeth bared in a poisonous smile. "I'm waiting, Prefect. Dazzle me with your evidence."
Wisdom had once told Jared to learn to read Jensen's - Doctor Nekrotik's - moods. So far, they'd been pretty obviously delineated. There was the mood Jensen had been in when he ordered the firebombing of Nigellus 8, and there was the one where he wanted to risk his own life to rescue innocent prisoners.
And now there was this. A blurred mood. The closest to it Jared had ever seen was the very first time he'd met Jensen, where Jensen had been self-assured but cooperative, not a nice guy but not an evil one either.
Jared supposed he should have expected this. Jensen himself had told him the rising levels of crystal in his system would change him back. But there was that feeling Jared had had before he died, of badly missing Jensen, he could feel it twinge inside him again, even while Jensen was stood just a few feet away.
"His fingerprints were all over the blaster that was used in the murder," the Prefect said finally.
Jensen made a disgusted noise, his eyes narrowing. "Along with how many other people's? It's Stantone. Property gets stolen and passed on from one person to the next. They're thieves and scavengers, that's how they survive."
He scoffed again and threw his hands up. He paced a few steps away, seeming to gather his composure. "Just so I'm absolutely clear on this. Basically, you tried to execute Jared because he's the first person from Stantone to come through your district and you decided he was as likely to be guilty as anyone?"
Affronted, the Prefect drew himself up sharply at the question. "His fingerprints were on the weapon used to murder-"
Jensen put up his hand to silence him. "Enough. I've heard enough of your inadequate excuses, Prefect. Jared's leaving with me. And I think perhaps a full review of your corrupt practices is in order. Maybe we'll see if you do any better on Stantone than your late brother did."
It was debatable whether it was the final threat that knocked the Prefect into red-faced, scandalized rage, or Jensen's overall attitude of peevish dissatisfaction. By Jared's eye, it seemed that Pellegrino's loosely protective stance had tightened into something more ready for combat. Nemec and Heafey were certainly responding to some cue in his behavior, moving closer to Jared.
If there was going to be a fight, Jared really hoped Doctor Nekrotik would stay out of it.
"May I ask on whose authority you think you're going to implement these orders?" the Prefect demanded. "Just who are you supposed to be anyway, Commander Ackles? I'd like to make sure you're in a position to be giving these orders, because I'm sure you’re aware of the penalty for mutiny and insubordination, which is what this is tantamount to."
Drawing in a breath, Jared tensed. Surely Jensen wasn't going to tell the truth. Surely he couldn't let all of these people know what Doctor Nekrotik looked like without his mask. Unless, Jared realized with a cold stab of dread, he was planning to wipe them all. Perhaps the Prefect or the guards, but surely Jensen wouldn't wipe Pellegrino or Heafey or Nemec, these people who were almost friends to them now.
If it were only Jensen, Jared would be certain of it. But Doctor Nekrotik was in the room as well, and Jared hadn’t even begun to figure out what he was capable of.
If he was conscious of everybody's gazes on him, Jensen didn't show it. He held the Prefect's eyes as he curled his tongue into the corner of his mouth, considering.
Then he shrugged, as if it was no matter at all, and said, "I'm Doctor Nekrotik's chief science advisor."
The mere invocation of the name froze the atmosphere in the room. The Prefect blanched. The other guards present shifted nervously, and even Pellegrino's eyes went wide. Jared caught Heafey's eyes on him, saw her nudge Nemec unobtrusively. They were wondering about him again. They'd no more suspect Jared of being Doctor Nekrotik than they would Jensen, which was pretty funny in a horrifying kind of way, but the revelation of who Jensen was obviously made Jared even more interesting to them.
Tugging at the collar of his robe while trying to appear unfazed, the Prefect said, "We searched your name in the system, Commander Ackles. That wasn't mentioned in your record. You have, uh, I suppose, some way to verify your claim?"
"My claim?" Jensen echoed mockingly. He cocked his head again, in that alien way of his, a gesture that was pure Nekrotik. "Would you like Doctor Nekrotik himself to 'verify my claim'?"
"Isn't there some other way?" Jared cut in for the first time, over the top of the Prefect's strangled attempts to assure Jensen that wouldn't be necessary. Any ingrained instinct Jared had keep his mouth shut around people in positions of authority was overridden by his desire to keep Nekrotik's presence constrained to Jensen's attitude.
At the sound of Jared's voice, Jensen looked over at him abruptly. He gazed at Jared blankly for a second, looking almost confused, then he blinked, and out of nowhere, he smiled at Jared again.
Heaving a sigh of long-suffering patience, Jensen turned back to the Prefect. "Doctor Nekrotik would not appreciate being called away from his work. It's not a call I'd want to make, but it's one you'd enjoy even less. However, Chief Commander Morgan or Commander Kane will also back me up."
The Prefect bobbed his head in a nod. "That will be sufficient," he said, in as unruffled a tone as he could summon up after being threatened with Doctor Nekrotik's displeasure. "Once we've established that you are who you say you are, I'll release the prisoner into your custody."
He motioned for Jensen to accompany him, but he held up a hand when Pellegrino made to follow. His smile was rather sickly as he addressed Jensen. "This is a top-rank communication. Your escort and the prisoner will be quite safe here."
Jensen beckoned towards Nemec and Heafey to follow regardless. "Jared and my people will come with me. I don't want to run the risk of any…" He paused, then, deadly amused, finished with, "unfortunate incidents."
They filed out into the silver corridors, and somehow Jensen contrived to have Jared at his side within a matter of seconds. They were far from alone, but it felt like the first chance they had to talk.
"Are you okay?" said Jared.
Jensen shot him a sidelong look, eyes glittering with amusement. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You know you did just get executed? I know you were passed out and missed all the excitement, but-"
"You seem a little, uh, mood-swingy," Jared broke in. He bit his lip awkwardly and shrugged. "I just mean, how are you doing?"
Jensen cast an unobtrusive glance over his shoulder to see how overheard they were before he answered. "I had to take on some crystal to keep you alive, plus you needed healing," he said in an undertone. "It's sped things up a little, but only a little."
Jared nodded, digesting the information. He swallowed hard, his legs still feeling shivery under him. Without looking at Jensen, he said, "Thanks. For coming." He rolled his eyes at himself, flushing a little, and added what his conscience said was required. "For saving my life again."
When Jared turned to him, Jensen's head was bowed, lips pursed together pink, like he was trying not to smile. "You're welcome, Jared." He looked up and held Jared's eyes. He seemed about to say more, before noticing Pellegrino just a few steps behind them, and Nemec and Heafey not far behind him.
Any chance for further conversation was cut off, and Jared was cowardly grateful for that.
At the Prefect's entrance, the two soldiers in the communications room snapped to attention. They seemed ill at ease around him and kept their gazes face-forward. They remained standing until he gestured them back to the computer panel.
"Put a call through to Commander Kane," he said.
There was only a very slight hesitation before the soldiers obeyed, but it was noticeable: hands hovering just barely over the display before they began to work. It was unlikely they’d ever had to contact anyone of higher standing than the commander of any passing cruiser.
After a few moments, the large screen on the wall flickered away from a revolving image of a star chart, to a middle-aged woman in red-and-black uniform. She didn't bear so much as a passing resemblance to Kane.
"What do you want, Prefect?" she said, sounding a few seconds away from outright irritation. "Commander Kane is very busy, not to mention that you're leapfrogging several very significant levels of command in contacting him instead of your direct superior."
The Prefect quailed somewhat at this less than friendly response, though he managed to maintain his dignity. He waved a hand towards Jensen, who was waiting off to the side, looking mildly disinterested in the whole proceedings.
"I have an officer here who's opposing the execution of a convicted murderer-"
"Hey!" Jared protested without thinking. With a soft, exasperated noise, Jensen smoothly stepped down hard on Jared's foot, and Jared shut up.
Satisfied that Jared wasn't going to interrupt again, the Prefect gave him a hateful look, before turning back to the officer on the screen. "He assured me that Commander Kane could verify his claim of being-"
Jensen moved into view, and cut briskly over the Prefect. "Brigadier, put me through to Commander Kane. Do it now."
There it was again, that Nekrotik tone that conveyed 'or else' at the end of every order, without ever having to say it. Jared drew in a shuddering breath and subtly shifted his body away from Jensen's.
The woman on the screen blinked. Her mouth opened, and Jared braced for her stinging refusal. Then she eyed Jensen more carefully, before giving a barbed smile.
"It's your funeral," she said, tapped a button in front of herself and the screen went blank.
Minutes passed. Two, maybe three.
The screen flickered again and Kane appeared on it finally, looking harassed and intent on the datapad in his hand.
"This had better be about me winning the Paelos Power-Blast Twenty Gillion Lottery," he growled.
"More awesome than that," said Jensen, serene and sunny at once.
Kane looked up sharply, stared for a second, then his face creased into a huge smile. He laughed and leaned in, as if to get a better look at Jensen. "Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes? Where the hell have you been? Jeff's been going fucking crazy-" He broke off, shouted at someone off-screen, "Hey, hey, get Chief Commander Morgan in here!"
Jensen waved a hand, trying to stop him, but it was no good. Kane was all motion and excitement.
"You're on the Tantalus Station," said Kane, checking his display. He frowned. "What the fuck are you doing on the Tantalus?"
Jensen shook his head and sighed. "Long story. Really, really long story. There were…" He gestured helplessly, as if unable to encompass the sheer scope of his tale. "Mutant slavers, and jailbreaks, and just some general craziness. And I was on my way back to you, but the Prefect here’s trying to execute Jared on some bogus murder-"
Kane raised an eyebrow. "Jared’s with you?"
Jensen glanced over at Jared, evidently surprised by the question, then back to Kane. "Yeah, and I need you to confirm for the Prefect here that I have the authority to have him released from custody-"
But Kane was already shaking his head, and Jared was sure he had to be shaking his head about something other than getting Jared released. He had to be. He eyed the door and wondered how far he could get and whether it was worth trying to run.
"No can do," said Kane. "I have very specific orders."
Jensen’s eyes narrowed. "What orders? From whom?"
"Jeff. He was pretty vocal on the subject. If Jared was ever recovered alive, Jeff wanted him delivered to him. Personally."
The bottom dropped out of Jared’s stomach. That was a fate worse than death he hadn’t considered yet. In his peripheral vision, he was conscious of Nemec and Heafey sharing a look.
So Jeff was out for his blood, which just made him even more interesting. Protected by Doctor Nekrotik’s chief science advisor, and of personal, undoubtedly hostile, concern to Doctor Nekrotik’s bodyguard.
"No," said Jensen. "I think we can skip that. Jared has…" He wet his lips, fiercely ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. "He has people waiting for him, and I intend to see he reaches them."
Kane shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry. Like I said, Jeff was real clear on the subject. Only one person in a position to countermand any order Jeff gives me, you know that." There was a leading note in Kane’s voice that Jensen didn’t respond to, leaving Kane obliged to push further. "So should I expect to hear from Doctor Nekrotik sometime soon?"
And Jensen, for some reason, looked straight at Jared, all wide green-eyed uncertainty.
It took Jared a moment to realize that, while Kane was simply questioning his mental state, Jensen was interpreting it as a choice.
He could remain Jensen, and Jared would be delivered to Jeff, for god knows what kind of retribution, because Jeff was not going to be happy about Jared throwing Jensen out an airlock.
Or Jensen could go back under and become Nekrotik, and Jared would, possibly, go free, depending on what kind of mood Nekrotik came back in. Depending on whether Nekrotik even gave Jared a moment’s consideration before he picked up his tyrannical rule of the galaxy again.
As far as Jared was concerned, there was no choice. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Jensen pursed his lips, still seeming doubtful, and Jared shook his head again.
"Doctor Nekrotik is currently indisposed with his research," Jensen told Kane at last. "Jared will remain in custody, alive and unharmed." Jensen gave the Prefect meaningful look at this point.
On screen, Kane nodded, began tapping at the console in front of him. "Okay, I’m sending a cruiser to your location. It’ll pick you and Jared up and transport you back to us. And you, Prefect," Kane stabbed a finger in his direction, "Commander Ackles can do whatever he damn well pleases on your station, short of letting Jared go. You piss him off, you piss me off and I don’t need to go into detail about why you didn’t wanna do that, do I?"
The Prefect gave a short, twitchy shake of his head. "No, sir." His gaze didn’t so much as stray in Jensen or Jared’s direction. Whatever obedience Jensen might expect from him, any friendliness from this point on was clearly out of the question.
Kane nodded, satisfied, and grinned at Jensen again. "Great. We’ll see you real soon then. Looking forward to it. Gonna want to hear it all."
The screen went blank. The room was silent. Jensen stared at the screen a moment longer. Then he sighed and tried to look reassuring as he turned to Jared.
"I’ll fix this," he said. He sighed again. "Somehow."
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