Fic: Red Petals [9/10]
Fic: Red Petals [9/10]
Previous: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8
Disclaimer: Sometimes I think this show was created just for me, but alas, still not mine. Definitely for the best, in this case.
Rating/warnings: NC-17. Sex pollen and sex slaves, dub-con and non-con (though mostly off screen), plus violence, cursing, lots of nudity, and forced druggings.
Pairings: (In order of apperance, not necessarily importance) James/Camille, Mercedes/Kendall, Kendall/Jo, Kendall/James, Mercedes/Kendall/James, James/Logan.
Notes: As always, enormous thanks to my fantastic and amazing beta reader, lielabell. And this time additional thanks especially to default_dollie. ;)
Summary: Kendall and his crew are supposed to be on a rescue mission, searching for someone on a black market planet. But he's the one who ends up needing to be rescued...
Nine.
Carlos leapt towards the toppled chair and Mercedes backed up a few steps. "Kendall," Carlos breathed. "Are you okay?"
Kendall blinked a few times, then gave him a sickly grin. "My hero."
"Uh, okay. Here, let me just..." He set his gun down so he could finagle the chair upright. Kendall's head lolled to the side.
"Step away from him."
Carlos looked up. Mercedes had pulled a gun out of her purse, and she stood with it aimed straight for Kendall.
"God damn it," Carlos mumbled. He put a hand on Kendall's shoulder and looked up at Mercedes. "Hold tight, Kendall, I'm not gonna let her hurt you anymore."
Mercedes smirked. "Good. And you can do that by cooperating with me. Now back away from him and I'll see if I can salvage this."
"Salvage?" Carlos repeated, taking a step back slowly.
"Yeah. Rebecca has money, but I run this place. Not her. And he, and you, are both too hot too waste. So don't worry -- I won't hurt him." Her free hand rummaged in her purse. "Another few treatments, and he won't even fight me anymore. And you -- well, I'll bet you'll be just as popular. Tell me, is there anyone else on your ship I should salvage?"
"Oh, no. Oh, noooo," Kendall moaned. He squirmed in the chair as Mercedes produced a needle and syringe. "Carlos -- Carlos, go. Run. Get out -- "
"I'm not leaving you," Carlos said quietly, watching Mercedes carefully. His gun was on the floor, that was obviously why Mercedes had felt comfortable pulling one on him. If she thought he was unarmed, then he wouldn't try anything if she might shoot Kendall.
Mercedes had to juggle the items in her hands carefully, preparing the needle without relinquishing her weapon. She was still holding it, but she wasn't paying full attention to him anymore.
Carlos sprang forward again, one hand going to the Taylor 646 hidden under his shirt. He shoved the chair, knocking Kendall on to the ground and out of the way. Mercedes yelled in surprise, dropping the needle as she tried for her gun, but she was too late and Carlos fired.
Mercedes screamed, falling back, and he leapt towards her. He'd only hit her side and for all it was bleeding, it probably wouldn't be fatal. He wrestled her weapon from her easily and pressed her against the wall. She slumped forward, conscious and breathing but weak, and he reached for her purse. There were more vials inside it, some liquid like the one she'd intended for Kendall and a more with dust like Camille had given Logan; and there was a knife, some makeup, and a hairbrush. Nothing useful for tying her up, so he dumped it all out -- carefully, in case Logan needed the samples -- and wrapped the purse's strap around her wrists.
"You... dick," she mumbled. "You're ruining everything."
"Where's James?" he answered.
She didn't say anything. He hadn't really expected her to, though. He didn't think she even knew anymore.
She wasn't tied very securely, but she was unarmed -- Carlos frisked her quickly to make sure -- and injured, so he took the risk and turned towards Kendall. He was unconscious, body limp and hanging from the chair by the ropes. Carlos used Mercedes' knife to cut them away and Kendall collapsed into his arms. He straightened and awkwardly shifted Kendall into a fireman's carry, hoping Kendall wasn't injured too badly, and that moving him wouldn't hurt him worse.
"What are you going to do?" Mercedes asked.
"I'm getting him out of here."
"I meant with me." She stared at him, eyes wide, trembling. He wondered how much blood she'd lost, how long she could hold out, how badly she needed medical help.
Not as badly as Kendall.
He wanted to bring her to justice, but he didn't even know what justice was on this planet, and he didn't have time to waste. So he just walked out, hauling Kendall with him, and hoped that there'd be a way to sort it all out later.
--
"Okay." Logan carefully filled the syringe. The liquid was pink and shimmery, loaded with a synthesized chemical compound that Logan desperately hoped would flush out James' neural pathways, fixing his overactive pleasure center and giving him back access to his memories. "Just lie still."
James let his forehead rest on his arms, lying on his stomach. "Is this going to hurt?" he asked, giving Logan a nervous look.
Something inside Logan ached at that. Shots and needles and medical equipment -- that kind of thing had never made James nervous before. They must have done something to him, and even if he couldn't remember what, exactly, the effects were still there.
But Logan wasn't going to lie. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, but it'll be okay. It won't be that bad and I'll be right here with you. Okay?"
James hesitated, but nodded. "You're sure it's gonna work?"
Now Logan fibbed. Just a tiny bit. He was pretty sure, he just hated not having had a chance to really test it, run the kind of experiments he should have. But there just wasn't time. At least he hadn't needed to use all of the sample Camille had given him, so if it didn't succeed, he'd still have a little to work with. But he said, "Yeah, of course."
James screwed his eyes shut, but said, "Okay. Okay, do it."
Before Logan could, the ship rocked again, under assault. He grabbed a counter for balance and looked at the ship monitor. Jo was huddled against the wall next to the entry ramp, a gun in each hand. He flipped on the comm and asked, "You okay down there?"
She glanced up at the speaker, around for a camera, spotted it, and nodded at him. He watched as in one fluid movement she rolled over to the entrance, braced herself, shot several times, and fell back into a roll to the other side of the entryway. She shot the camera a thumbs up, and the assault on the ship didn't immediately start again, so he figured she knew what she was doing.
He turned back to James. "We're good to go now. Take a deep breath. I'll be right here with you."
James took his advice, heaving in an enormous breath. He went tense as Logan pressed the needle into the back of his neck, right into a bundle of nerves. James hissed in pain for a moment, hands clenching into fists. Logan set the needle down and took one of James' hands in his own, and James grabbed it back. He still had an iron grip.
"You okay?" Logan asked.
James shook his head a little. "Hurts. Fuck, it hurts."
"I'm sorry," Logan said. "But it needed -- it's the chemical reaction in your brain, the way it responds to pain is --"
"How long is it going to last?" He looked up at Logan, and Logan's heart wrenched again.
"I don't know. I'm sorry. But I'll be here with you --"
"Then, then be with me, please," James said, tugging his hand. He rolled over, sat up, and winced. "Please," he said, and grabbed Logan's hand again. "Please, I need you, need something to -- to distract me and I want you, oh god. I, I need you."
Logan took a few steps backwards, trying to wrestle his hand out of James' grip, but James wouldn't let it go, followed him, pressed in close.
"James, you need to -- you should lay back down," Logan said, trying to push James away. But James wouldn't budge.
"It hurts, and you promised to help me," James said, pressing closer. Logan backed up again until he hit the counter with his equipment on it, but James followed him, and oh, god. James was still naked. Logan had suggested he get dressed, but he hadn't wanted to, and while he'd let Logan cover him with a sheet for a little while, that was long gone.
Logan scrabbled to push James back, but James batted his hand away. When Logan pushed harder, James actually grabbed his hand and pinned it down on the counter. Then leaned down to kiss Logan.
Logan tried to yank his hand free, but all that did was knock it against his equipment. He turned his head, startled, to look over at his things. The vial of petal dust on its side, open, and reddish-pink particles swirled in the air.
His eyes went wide. "James, I need to get ah -- ah -- " He sneezed.
"Need to get laid?" James suggested, closing in on him again. "I can help with that."
"No, James. We're not -- we can't -- James, oh god." He sneezed again, looked down at the empty vial, and back up at James. He felt a little funny -- his head was swimming and oh man, had James' eyes always been so big and beautiful? Had James always had shoulders like that?
No, no, fuck, the petal dust was strong. He had to do something about it --
James mumbled in his ear, "So fucking hot."
Logan whimpered but shoved James again. James let him go this time, and Logan tore through cabinets until he found an anti-allergen spray. It was designed to help Corps members who were sensitive to pollens on foreign planets, things there might not be vaccines for. He tried to ignore James, who was so hot and so naked and oh, god, right there. His hand shook as he held it up sprayed and inhaled, waiting to feel it take effect, counteract the petal dust --
James grabbed him again, and Logan's skin felt like it was on fire but and wanted James' hands on him, all over him, he wanted James like he'd never wanted anyone, anything, in his life. James kissed him and Logan tried to remember why this was wrong, but could barely think past his sudden need. But he'd done something, hadn't he? He'd tried -- and maybe it would work -- and James, this was James, it was James.
James mumbled in his ear, "I still want to suck you off. Is that okay?"
Logan nodded, any objection he'd had totally forgotten as James slid down to his knees.
--
Jo slid across the folded ramp and down to the floor, crept across the crowded loading bay, and looked out the northern hatch. She frowned. The soldiers had gathered there, out of the range of her sniping, and were talking and pointing at the ship, gesturing wildly. Planning something. Her frown deepened and decided that it was going to take a better plan to keep Mercedes' troops out of the ship.
She waved up at the camera, but Mitchell didn't say anything over the comm. After waiting another minute for his answer, she took it into her own hands and jogged up to the medical bay, hit the button to slide the door open and announced, "Mitchell, we've got trouble... oh."
Well. Apparently she was interrupting something. The two men were tangled up together on the floor, bodies sliding together, Mitchell's clothing discarded around them. She cleared her throat. "Seriously, Mitchell? I'm not surprised about him, but the ship is under attack."
"What -- wait -- James -- fuck," Mitchell sputtered, and managed to push Diamond off of him. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. "He -- he -- uh -- broke the sample jar and -- get out before the dust -- ohhh, James."
"You are both useless. Just so you know." She turned around and stomped out and back to the loading bay. She glanced out the window again. The soldiers had gathered into some sort of formation and were ready to fire. Jo narrowed her eyes, trying to find a weakness in their configuration. She needed to be able to pick them off from both sides of the ship, but none of the ship's portholes were designed to open, since the vacuum of space would kill everyone inside. So she could keep an eye on the soldiers, but not do anything.
She watched helplessly as, working together, they opened fire on the ship from the safe north side, and the ship shuddered and shook.
Jo hit the control switch to lower the entrance ramp. She didn't do helpless.
--
Camille sprinted after Rebecca. She was already out of sight, running faster than should have been possible, but Camille could track her by sound. No one could run silently at that speed.
Rebecca took a winding path, seeming to know every back alley in the city. Not that it did her any good. They'd turned away from the residential area of town, which ruled out her mansion; that meant they were probably heading to the office.
They broke onto a major street, with busy traffic even at this time of the night. For a moment, Camille caught a glimpse of Rebecca on the other side of the intersection, but a horn blared and she had to dance back to avoid a speeding transit. She took a breath, steeled herself, then dashed through the traffic, narrowly avoiding two more vehicles. By the time she made it across, Rebecca had vanished. She strained, listening, but the traffic was too loud for her to make out frantic footfalls.
A shot rang out. Camille threw herself to the side, enhanced reflexes saving her life as a bullet whizzed by her skull. The few people who were out on the street screamed, panicked, but Camille dashed forward. Another shot, but now that she was listening for it, she not only dodged easily, she zeroed in on the sound. A third-floor window, sure enough, coming from the office Rebecca ran.
The building door was locked. Biomech enhanced muscles roaring, Camille spun and kicked near one of the hinges. It twisted. She slammed her shoulder against it and it gave, and another slam took the door off its hinges entirely. She shoved it aside and shouldered her way in.
Footsteps ran though a hall above her. Camille made for a set of stairs at the back of the room, up two floors, and followed the sound. Something else joined them -- something outside. Helicopter blades.
A trapdoor hung open from the ceiling. Camille jumped and hauled herself up -- only to find herself facing the barrel of a gun. A helicopter hovered above with a rope ladder hanging from it, but Rebecca stood planted on the roof.
Camille threw herself forward, tackling Rebecca as she fired. The gun went off and she felt a tingle in her side, but her biomech blocked out the pain. She and Rebecca hit the roof together, the rough texture digging into Camille's hands as she caught herself. The fall must have knocked the wind out of Rebecca, stunning her momentarily. Camille grabbed for Rebecca's gun, but before she could wrestle it away, Rebecca slammed the heel of her hand up into Camille's face. Camille tasted blood, but felt nothing. Rebecca wormed out from under her, shoving her aside as they both scrambled up. Camille made a break for the ladder, getting between it and Rebecca, while Rebecca raised the gun again. She fired and Camille dodged, shifting into a high kick, catching her arm. Rebecca kept her grip on the gun but it left Camille close enough to grab her hand, sweeping it up so she couldn't aim.
Rebecca struck with her free hand, bringing it down against Camille's throat. As Camille sputtered, unable to get in a breath, Rebecca pulled her gun hand free and made for the ladder. Camille swiped a leg out, trying to topple her, but all she managed was to make Rebecca stumble. It was enough: Camille got in a breath and an elbow, connecting with Rebecca's gut. As she stumbled again Camille brought a knee up, balled her other hand into a fist, and punched hard. It slowed Rebecca down, stunning her enough for Camille to wrestle her gun away.
Before she could aim or fire, a shot came from the helicopter. Camille felt it distantly in her leg as she fell, her knee scraping against the rough rooftop. Rebecca grabbed the ladder and started yanking herself up. Camille forced herself over on to her back, firing upwards, but it was too late. As Rebecca high-tailed it up the ladder, the helicopter pulled away, out of range.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Camille screamed, pushing herself up to her knees. She twitched her fingers, bringing her in-eye display to life, and sent out another emergency call.
The White Knight's answer came almost instantaneously in her ear: "What's happening?"
"Rebecca. Escaping." She gasped in a breath. "I need you to transmit the order to close all spaceports. No one gets off this planet."
"Done," the voice in her ear answered. "They're gonna resist following it, though. Sovereign planets don't like to take orders from Civ inspectors. It'll be an incident."
"I know," Camille said, her vision starting to go blurry around the edges. Biomech couldn't hold pain off indefinitely, and it didn't stop injuries from taking their toll. "But I had her in my sights. She can't get off the planet."
"Then I'll speed things along. Good thing planetary traffic is run by an AI -- and there's not an AI in existence I can't hack."
"Thanks," Camille said. She pressed a hand to her side and it came back damp and warm. "Shit. I'm gonna need the local political leaders to meet me at a hospital. This is gonna hurt. Rebecca had better not get away."
"I've got an ambulance on its way to you, and everyone important on the planet will be there, if they know what's good for them."
"Great." Camille heaved a breath. "Great. Thanks. Send them up to the roof. I don't think I can climb down."
"I will. Hold on, Camille. Help's coming, just hold on."
Camille couldn't even get out words to answer. The world darkened around her and the first flares of pain penetrated her biomech. She clenched a fist, trying to keep herself going, but the blood loss was too much and the last thing she was aware of was the scream of an approaching ambulance.
--
Jo halted the ramp halfway through its descent. It wasn't touching the ground yet, though anyone who got a decent jump and had some upper body strength would be able to get up. Or at least, they would if Jo didn't have a gun in either hand. From this position, halfway down, she had a much wider range -- but a lot less cover. Damn, it would be nice if someone actually had her back.
The soldiers had stopped shooting when the ramp extended, but it wouldn't take them long to realize how exposed she was. She only had a few seconds, so they had to count. Good thing she'd been practicing since she'd learned to walk.
She took a deep breath and opened fire.
The soldiers fell back again, only one managing to fire at Jo. She waited as long as she could, and as their shock wore off, she ran back for the safety of the ship. She caught her breath inside, then peered out the hatch. They were regrouping again. She'd have to do it again, and this time they'd know she had no cover.
God damn it, if she lived through this, she was going to murder Mitchell with her bare hands.
--
Kendall was still out cold and didn't move at when Carlos tried to pull clothes on to him. He was breathing, but Carlos was terrified he had brain damage or something. He was in really bad shape. Bad enough shape that Carlos didn't think he could grab a transit back to the spaceport. The driver would probably call the cops on someone dragging an inert, bleeding body.
At least clothing was easy to find. None of it fit Kendall well, and it looked like Carlos had taken it from some kind of grab bag or something, but getting Kendall clothed was a good first step. From there, he tried to drag Kendall to a door, but a guard stepped in his way.
Carrying Kendall like that, Carlos couldn't grab for his weapon. "Uh, problem?" Carlos asked, trying for innocent, wishing Camille was still with him. This was the kind of thing that required lying.
"What are you doing with him?" The guard nodded at Kendall.
"Um, well," Carlos said, thinking hard, heart thudding in his chest, "Mercedes wants him... taken care of. But not here."
The guard nodded. "Don't take him out this way, then, you don't want the guests asking questions."
"Right, yeah," Carlos agreed, another thought occurring to him quickly. There was no way this was going to work, but... "I need a vehicle or something. Don't want people on the street to see this, either."
The guard nodded. "This way, come on. Let's get this done with."
"Yeah," Carlos agreed, and took a deep breath. Kendall stirred a little bit, and he clenched Kendall's limbs harder, willing him to stay under for just another minute or two. Just long enough for them to get out of there.
The guard brought them out to a small courtyard. There were entrances back into the building on two sides, and a tiny alley leading out. "You can do it here. Get the body out in that." He pointed at a wheelbarrow, sitting next to a tiny sapling, held up by stakes and twine.
"Okay. Yeah," Carlos agreed. "Thanks."
"Hey, where is Mercedes, anyway? No one's seen her, no one's seen Jo, and something's going on across town. She should know, but..."
Something was going on across town? Carlos thought of Logan and panicked, but the guard was still looking at him expectantly. He managed, "Uh. Um. I haven't... haven't seen her since she told me to, you know, deal with this. Awhile ago."
"Hmm, maybe she's just with one of her boys again," the guard said with a wry chuckle. "Well. I'll leave you to it."
"Yeah," Carlos said, unloading Kendall from his back. The guard headed back inside and Carlos took a deep breath. Kendall stirred again as Carlos dragged him towards the wheelbarrow, relieved, amazed he'd managed to get through that. "And you said I couldn't be sneaky," he mumbled to Kendall.
"What's... who... Carlos?"
"Yeah, it's me. Hang on," Carlos said. "Hold tight." He deposited Kendall against the wall, and Kendall sagged, barely staying upright. Carlos brushed some dirt out of the wheelbarrow and grabbed a tarp from the grass.
"Heyyyy, did I ever tell you you look really good?" Kendall mumbled. "You're so hot, mmm. I bet if you held me up, we could --"
"Yeah, no," Carlos said. "We're heading back to the ship. Logan'll fix you."
"Yeah, Logan can fix me all he wants," Kendall said, somehow smirking through his bruises. "You and Logan both, if you want, and... James..." He blinked. "James, what happened to James?"
Carlos wrapped an arm around Kendall's shoulders and decided fibbing optimistically was his best bet. "We're going to see him at the ship. But you can't walk and we need to hurry, so I'm giving you a ride in the wheelbarrow, okay?"
Kendall blinked again. He pressed a hand to his upper arm, where the shirt Carlos had found him covered bloody gauze, and then reached up to his face, pressing his fingers against the worst of his bruises. He nodded, wincing a little. "Yeah. Yeah, just get me out of here. Oh, fuck..."
Carlos basically had to pick him up and scoop him into the barrow. He heard Kendall hiss with pain. "You okay?"
"Will be. Just -- go. Please. Please."
Carlos wasn't going to argue with that. He pulled the tarp up and said, "Just hang on tight."
The wheelbarrow was awkward and cumbersome as Carlos made his way through the streets, and he worried about Kendall every time it bounced, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. It was slow going to get across the city without a transit, and people definitely gave him weird looks, but at least this late, not many people were out.
He stopped short when they finally reached the spaceport. The front was closed and locked, and a notice had been put up outside. He read: All space ports shut down, 24 hours minimum, as ordered by Traffic Control.
Shit. He jostled the gate, but it held. It wasn't a very good lock, though, since the port wasn't really designed to ever close, and the whole thing was rusty, the door only held shut by a chain wrapped between giant handles.
"This'll never work," he mumbled, backing the wheelbarrow up to a safe distance. Then he pulled his Taylor. It was mini, tiny, really, but Taylors weren't like other weapons and he'd trust his Taylor Mini over anything else any day.
Bracing himself, Carlos aimed and let a few shots go. They exploded with more force than a weapon that size should have been able to muster. He grinned despite himself as saw the broken lock.
He yanked the chain off and pushed the door open, braced it, and went back for the wheelbarrow.
"We get shot at?" Kendall mumbled from inside.
"Nope, just breaking down a door. No problem." He steered the barrow down the long hall, past the eerily empty food vendor booths, to the enormous lot where the ships actually lay in rest.
He hurried through the main walkway towards their space, but froze, several ships down. So this was the group Mercedes had sent. He didn't know if they were cops or soldiers or what, but there was a group of people of them firing up at the ship, where someone was firing back from the entrance ramp. He couldn't make out who it was -- it didn't look like Logan, but who else could be on board?
Whoever it was, things were not going well. It was just one person, and even though a surprising number of troops were dropping where they stood, there were just too many. The shooter -- a woman? Carlos caught a flash of blond and the figure seemed a little too curvy to be a guy -- was going to be overwhelmed, especially when one of the soldiers came around from the other side of the ship, shooting from behind her position.
She spun and took the soldier out, but there were still plenty of people firing up at her. She was going to be overwhelmed at any moment. Carlos' gun felt hot in his palm and he wanted to help, needed to so he could get Kendall onto the ship. But as soon as he tried, he'd give away their position, and there was no way he could defend himself and Kendall from where he was.
The shooter sent a final volley into the crowd of soldiers and ran back up the ramp, vanishing into the loading bay. Carlos wondered for a second if he could just make a run for the ramp -- maybe the shooter would see him, keep everyone off of him for long enough to get safely on board. But he couldn't see a way to get the shooter's attention unless she came back out, and even then, it would be damn near suicidal to try to run through the soldiers. And the entrance ramp wasn't even extended all the way down, now that he focused on it.
He looked down at the wheelbarrow, wishing Kendall was awake and coherent. He really could have used one of Kendall's brilliant plans. But Kendall was in no shape to come up with anything, so he was on his own.
--
"Oh god, oh god, oh god."
James moaned and rolled over, the room rocking and swaying, blurring around him. He braced himself and squinted until the room solidified from white and grey blurs into actual scenery: ceiling tiles, shelves of science equipment. A bed loomed above him, which meant he was lying on a floor. And, of course, there was the unmistakable sound of Logan having an utter panic attack.
"Logan, 'smatter?" James managed, looking over at him. And weirdly, though the world was looking clearer and clearer around him, he could swear the ground was shaking. Frowning, he wondered how the hell they'd ended up -- where? A ship's med bay? On the floor? He remembered having a few drinks, but that was about it.
"We, we just -- wait." Suddenly Logan was right in front of him, peering at him intently, and for some reason, Logan was naked.
Wait. So was he.
So that explained Logan's panic attack, probably.
"How drunk're we?" James asked, rubbing his eyes. "Ser'sly, I feel... I feel weird."
"You do? You feel -- no, wait. James. James."
"What?" James asked. "Where's my pants...? Did we actu'ly...?" He frowned. His words weren't coming out clearly and he felt kind of tingly, and his neck ached like he had some kind of horrible whiplash, and really, he and Logan had done... what? Because they couldn't have had sex. James had done some supremely stupid things while drunk in his life, but he would never make a move on one of his friends. And if he had, James was sure he'd remember it.
Except, now that he'd connected the ideas of Logan and naked and sex, he had this image of tugging Logan's pants down -- of kissing Logan's thigh and looking up into his eyes -- of Logan underneath him and his lips on Logan's neck and Logan's hand on his hip and oh fuck he and Logan actually had sex.
"We -- but you know my name." Logan grabbed his arm and James stared at him. The room wasn't shifting so wildly now, and some of the weird, tingling feeling was going away, though his neck still ached.
"Course I do." James frowned. "What's going on? Did you... did you pick me up?" Because if he'd gotten so drunk that he was still drunk, someone must have. There was no way he could drive himself, so however he'd gotten from the bar back to the ship... But why were they on the ship? They had another day of leave. Logan should have taken him home.
"Oh god," Logan said again, and vanished from in front of James. James watched him start to gather clothing, pulling it on. He wanted to get dressed too, and pushed himself up, but the world went a little wavy and the next thing he knew, Logan was pushing him onto the exam table.
"Where's my clothes? What's... I jus' need some water, why're you...?" he slurred as Logan started fiddling with equipment.
Logan paused and stared at him. "James, think. Please. Stop and think as hard as you can. What's the last thing you remember?"
James couldn't help it. He smirked at Logan. "You, un'erneath me."
Logan turned pink. "Before that."
James rolled his eyes, but frowned, thinking. Because the way he ached was weird, and he didn't feel hungover exactly, and even whatever had just happened with Logan was blurry, snatches of memories, nothing clear. So he did what Logan asked, concentrating.
Trying to remember was like looking through thick glass or at his reflection in the pool. Everything was there, but distorted, weird. But finally he latched on to something -- the reason he'd been out getting so hammered that he apparently thought hammering Logan was a good idea.
Kendall had tried to order him on to the ship. They still had two days of leave left, but some ambassador had wanted a tour and Kendall had insisted they all be there, even though James had plans. But of course he was the one the ambassador wanted to meet -- he was Brooke Diamond's son -- and it just pissed James off. He was on leave. It would have been one thing if he'd been the captain, responsible for the whole ship, the mission, keeping the ambassador happy, but apparently he wasn't good enough for that. He was just some cog that CivCorps was using to impress people. He'd snapped as much at Kendall, Kendall had ordered him to show up and smile.
He'd done it. He hated when Kendall pulled rank more than he hated anything else in the entire universe, but he'd obeyed the order. He'd stood there in dress uniform, smiled and shaken hands, and seethed silently the whole time. Afterwards, Kendall had tried to talk to him, but he'd exploded, stormed off the ship, and straight out to the bar. Because just like he had to obey orders when Kendall decided to be a dick about rank, he also wasn't allowed to punch his superior officer in the face.
Aloud, he managed, "I 'member Kendall being a dick."
"Yeah? And then?"
"I went to a bar," James said. "Had a few. You... you musta come got me, right?"
Logan shook his head no.
"Then what're -- why'd we -- no, but." James frowned. "Why'm I still drunk? What's going on?"
"James, I need you to lay down. I need to make sure you're okay," Logan said, looking back at the medical equipment.
"'M drunk, not sick."
"You're not drunk." Logan looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and there was something in his expression that James didn't like. He looked scared.
"I'm not?"
"No. James, you were... you were drugged. That night you stormed out, it was almost a year ago."
James stared at him. "That's not... not poss'ble. It was... it... but..."
"You were gone. Kidnapped. They... they brainwashed you, with this drug. That's why you don't remember anything, but it's no drug I've ever seen before and I need to make sure you're okay."
"But I wasn't... can't have..." James stared at him, waiting for Logan to break, say he was kidding, that this was some kind of elaborate prank.
But all Logan said was, "Do you remember anything else about that night? Anything before we... anything else? Lie down."
James did what he was told, lying across the medical table. Logan pulled a sheet up over him, which was a relief. As the equipment hummed, James tried to remember.
He'd been out drinking, and then... nothing.
He shut his eyes. Nothing? But, no. Not nothing. Because his neck hurt -- it had hurt before, not like this, but like --
There had been a collar and a needle and a cold voice and cruel laughter.
He remembered being desperate, begging. It had hurt and someone said... a woman said he'd get what he wanted.
Faces, dozens of them, too blurry to make out, but male and female both. He remembered hands on his body, hands and lips and so much more than that. Bodies and silk sheets and sex. People, so many people touching him --
"James," Logan said.
Some faces were clearer than others. A blond woman. She'd been there a lot. He groped for her name, couldn't find it. But he remembered her, her together with -- Kendall? But that was impossible...
There'd been a brunette, too. A woman with long curls and a beauty mark. She was gorgeous and she said she was going to help him. He tried to concentrate on her, remembered kissing her, pulling her on top of him, but not her name. It had started with a K, hadn't it? Karla? Kayla? Or a C --
"James!"
James' eyes flew open and Logan was staring at him in concern.
"Are you okay?" Logan asked.
James shook his head, which made his neck hurt, and the ache just made him remember. Someone had laughed at him. Someone had hurt him and laughed but he didn't know who, and dozens of people had grabbed him and touched him and used him and he had no fucking idea what had happened, and Logan said he'd been drugged for months and --
He practically fell off the table, collapsed on the floor, and threw up.
Chapter Ten
Previous: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8
Disclaimer: Sometimes I think this show was created just for me, but alas, still not mine. Definitely for the best, in this case.
Rating/warnings: NC-17. Sex pollen and sex slaves, dub-con and non-con (though mostly off screen), plus violence, cursing, lots of nudity, and forced druggings.
Pairings: (In order of apperance, not necessarily importance) James/Camille, Mercedes/Kendall, Kendall/Jo, Kendall/James, Mercedes/Kendall/James, James/Logan.
Notes: As always, enormous thanks to my fantastic and amazing beta reader, lielabell. And this time additional thanks especially to default_dollie. ;)
Summary: Kendall and his crew are supposed to be on a rescue mission, searching for someone on a black market planet. But he's the one who ends up needing to be rescued...
Nine.
Carlos leapt towards the toppled chair and Mercedes backed up a few steps. "Kendall," Carlos breathed. "Are you okay?"
Kendall blinked a few times, then gave him a sickly grin. "My hero."
"Uh, okay. Here, let me just..." He set his gun down so he could finagle the chair upright. Kendall's head lolled to the side.
"Step away from him."
Carlos looked up. Mercedes had pulled a gun out of her purse, and she stood with it aimed straight for Kendall.
"God damn it," Carlos mumbled. He put a hand on Kendall's shoulder and looked up at Mercedes. "Hold tight, Kendall, I'm not gonna let her hurt you anymore."
Mercedes smirked. "Good. And you can do that by cooperating with me. Now back away from him and I'll see if I can salvage this."
"Salvage?" Carlos repeated, taking a step back slowly.
"Yeah. Rebecca has money, but I run this place. Not her. And he, and you, are both too hot too waste. So don't worry -- I won't hurt him." Her free hand rummaged in her purse. "Another few treatments, and he won't even fight me anymore. And you -- well, I'll bet you'll be just as popular. Tell me, is there anyone else on your ship I should salvage?"
"Oh, no. Oh, noooo," Kendall moaned. He squirmed in the chair as Mercedes produced a needle and syringe. "Carlos -- Carlos, go. Run. Get out -- "
"I'm not leaving you," Carlos said quietly, watching Mercedes carefully. His gun was on the floor, that was obviously why Mercedes had felt comfortable pulling one on him. If she thought he was unarmed, then he wouldn't try anything if she might shoot Kendall.
Mercedes had to juggle the items in her hands carefully, preparing the needle without relinquishing her weapon. She was still holding it, but she wasn't paying full attention to him anymore.
Carlos sprang forward again, one hand going to the Taylor 646 hidden under his shirt. He shoved the chair, knocking Kendall on to the ground and out of the way. Mercedes yelled in surprise, dropping the needle as she tried for her gun, but she was too late and Carlos fired.
Mercedes screamed, falling back, and he leapt towards her. He'd only hit her side and for all it was bleeding, it probably wouldn't be fatal. He wrestled her weapon from her easily and pressed her against the wall. She slumped forward, conscious and breathing but weak, and he reached for her purse. There were more vials inside it, some liquid like the one she'd intended for Kendall and a more with dust like Camille had given Logan; and there was a knife, some makeup, and a hairbrush. Nothing useful for tying her up, so he dumped it all out -- carefully, in case Logan needed the samples -- and wrapped the purse's strap around her wrists.
"You... dick," she mumbled. "You're ruining everything."
"Where's James?" he answered.
She didn't say anything. He hadn't really expected her to, though. He didn't think she even knew anymore.
She wasn't tied very securely, but she was unarmed -- Carlos frisked her quickly to make sure -- and injured, so he took the risk and turned towards Kendall. He was unconscious, body limp and hanging from the chair by the ropes. Carlos used Mercedes' knife to cut them away and Kendall collapsed into his arms. He straightened and awkwardly shifted Kendall into a fireman's carry, hoping Kendall wasn't injured too badly, and that moving him wouldn't hurt him worse.
"What are you going to do?" Mercedes asked.
"I'm getting him out of here."
"I meant with me." She stared at him, eyes wide, trembling. He wondered how much blood she'd lost, how long she could hold out, how badly she needed medical help.
Not as badly as Kendall.
He wanted to bring her to justice, but he didn't even know what justice was on this planet, and he didn't have time to waste. So he just walked out, hauling Kendall with him, and hoped that there'd be a way to sort it all out later.
--
"Okay." Logan carefully filled the syringe. The liquid was pink and shimmery, loaded with a synthesized chemical compound that Logan desperately hoped would flush out James' neural pathways, fixing his overactive pleasure center and giving him back access to his memories. "Just lie still."
James let his forehead rest on his arms, lying on his stomach. "Is this going to hurt?" he asked, giving Logan a nervous look.
Something inside Logan ached at that. Shots and needles and medical equipment -- that kind of thing had never made James nervous before. They must have done something to him, and even if he couldn't remember what, exactly, the effects were still there.
But Logan wasn't going to lie. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, but it'll be okay. It won't be that bad and I'll be right here with you. Okay?"
James hesitated, but nodded. "You're sure it's gonna work?"
Now Logan fibbed. Just a tiny bit. He was pretty sure, he just hated not having had a chance to really test it, run the kind of experiments he should have. But there just wasn't time. At least he hadn't needed to use all of the sample Camille had given him, so if it didn't succeed, he'd still have a little to work with. But he said, "Yeah, of course."
James screwed his eyes shut, but said, "Okay. Okay, do it."
Before Logan could, the ship rocked again, under assault. He grabbed a counter for balance and looked at the ship monitor. Jo was huddled against the wall next to the entry ramp, a gun in each hand. He flipped on the comm and asked, "You okay down there?"
She glanced up at the speaker, around for a camera, spotted it, and nodded at him. He watched as in one fluid movement she rolled over to the entrance, braced herself, shot several times, and fell back into a roll to the other side of the entryway. She shot the camera a thumbs up, and the assault on the ship didn't immediately start again, so he figured she knew what she was doing.
He turned back to James. "We're good to go now. Take a deep breath. I'll be right here with you."
James took his advice, heaving in an enormous breath. He went tense as Logan pressed the needle into the back of his neck, right into a bundle of nerves. James hissed in pain for a moment, hands clenching into fists. Logan set the needle down and took one of James' hands in his own, and James grabbed it back. He still had an iron grip.
"You okay?" Logan asked.
James shook his head a little. "Hurts. Fuck, it hurts."
"I'm sorry," Logan said. "But it needed -- it's the chemical reaction in your brain, the way it responds to pain is --"
"How long is it going to last?" He looked up at Logan, and Logan's heart wrenched again.
"I don't know. I'm sorry. But I'll be here with you --"
"Then, then be with me, please," James said, tugging his hand. He rolled over, sat up, and winced. "Please," he said, and grabbed Logan's hand again. "Please, I need you, need something to -- to distract me and I want you, oh god. I, I need you."
Logan took a few steps backwards, trying to wrestle his hand out of James' grip, but James wouldn't let it go, followed him, pressed in close.
"James, you need to -- you should lay back down," Logan said, trying to push James away. But James wouldn't budge.
"It hurts, and you promised to help me," James said, pressing closer. Logan backed up again until he hit the counter with his equipment on it, but James followed him, and oh, god. James was still naked. Logan had suggested he get dressed, but he hadn't wanted to, and while he'd let Logan cover him with a sheet for a little while, that was long gone.
Logan scrabbled to push James back, but James batted his hand away. When Logan pushed harder, James actually grabbed his hand and pinned it down on the counter. Then leaned down to kiss Logan.
Logan tried to yank his hand free, but all that did was knock it against his equipment. He turned his head, startled, to look over at his things. The vial of petal dust on its side, open, and reddish-pink particles swirled in the air.
His eyes went wide. "James, I need to get ah -- ah -- " He sneezed.
"Need to get laid?" James suggested, closing in on him again. "I can help with that."
"No, James. We're not -- we can't -- James, oh god." He sneezed again, looked down at the empty vial, and back up at James. He felt a little funny -- his head was swimming and oh man, had James' eyes always been so big and beautiful? Had James always had shoulders like that?
No, no, fuck, the petal dust was strong. He had to do something about it --
James mumbled in his ear, "So fucking hot."
Logan whimpered but shoved James again. James let him go this time, and Logan tore through cabinets until he found an anti-allergen spray. It was designed to help Corps members who were sensitive to pollens on foreign planets, things there might not be vaccines for. He tried to ignore James, who was so hot and so naked and oh, god, right there. His hand shook as he held it up sprayed and inhaled, waiting to feel it take effect, counteract the petal dust --
James grabbed him again, and Logan's skin felt like it was on fire but and wanted James' hands on him, all over him, he wanted James like he'd never wanted anyone, anything, in his life. James kissed him and Logan tried to remember why this was wrong, but could barely think past his sudden need. But he'd done something, hadn't he? He'd tried -- and maybe it would work -- and James, this was James, it was James.
James mumbled in his ear, "I still want to suck you off. Is that okay?"
Logan nodded, any objection he'd had totally forgotten as James slid down to his knees.
--
Jo slid across the folded ramp and down to the floor, crept across the crowded loading bay, and looked out the northern hatch. She frowned. The soldiers had gathered there, out of the range of her sniping, and were talking and pointing at the ship, gesturing wildly. Planning something. Her frown deepened and decided that it was going to take a better plan to keep Mercedes' troops out of the ship.
She waved up at the camera, but Mitchell didn't say anything over the comm. After waiting another minute for his answer, she took it into her own hands and jogged up to the medical bay, hit the button to slide the door open and announced, "Mitchell, we've got trouble... oh."
Well. Apparently she was interrupting something. The two men were tangled up together on the floor, bodies sliding together, Mitchell's clothing discarded around them. She cleared her throat. "Seriously, Mitchell? I'm not surprised about him, but the ship is under attack."
"What -- wait -- James -- fuck," Mitchell sputtered, and managed to push Diamond off of him. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. "He -- he -- uh -- broke the sample jar and -- get out before the dust -- ohhh, James."
"You are both useless. Just so you know." She turned around and stomped out and back to the loading bay. She glanced out the window again. The soldiers had gathered into some sort of formation and were ready to fire. Jo narrowed her eyes, trying to find a weakness in their configuration. She needed to be able to pick them off from both sides of the ship, but none of the ship's portholes were designed to open, since the vacuum of space would kill everyone inside. So she could keep an eye on the soldiers, but not do anything.
She watched helplessly as, working together, they opened fire on the ship from the safe north side, and the ship shuddered and shook.
Jo hit the control switch to lower the entrance ramp. She didn't do helpless.
--
Camille sprinted after Rebecca. She was already out of sight, running faster than should have been possible, but Camille could track her by sound. No one could run silently at that speed.
Rebecca took a winding path, seeming to know every back alley in the city. Not that it did her any good. They'd turned away from the residential area of town, which ruled out her mansion; that meant they were probably heading to the office.
They broke onto a major street, with busy traffic even at this time of the night. For a moment, Camille caught a glimpse of Rebecca on the other side of the intersection, but a horn blared and she had to dance back to avoid a speeding transit. She took a breath, steeled herself, then dashed through the traffic, narrowly avoiding two more vehicles. By the time she made it across, Rebecca had vanished. She strained, listening, but the traffic was too loud for her to make out frantic footfalls.
A shot rang out. Camille threw herself to the side, enhanced reflexes saving her life as a bullet whizzed by her skull. The few people who were out on the street screamed, panicked, but Camille dashed forward. Another shot, but now that she was listening for it, she not only dodged easily, she zeroed in on the sound. A third-floor window, sure enough, coming from the office Rebecca ran.
The building door was locked. Biomech enhanced muscles roaring, Camille spun and kicked near one of the hinges. It twisted. She slammed her shoulder against it and it gave, and another slam took the door off its hinges entirely. She shoved it aside and shouldered her way in.
Footsteps ran though a hall above her. Camille made for a set of stairs at the back of the room, up two floors, and followed the sound. Something else joined them -- something outside. Helicopter blades.
A trapdoor hung open from the ceiling. Camille jumped and hauled herself up -- only to find herself facing the barrel of a gun. A helicopter hovered above with a rope ladder hanging from it, but Rebecca stood planted on the roof.
Camille threw herself forward, tackling Rebecca as she fired. The gun went off and she felt a tingle in her side, but her biomech blocked out the pain. She and Rebecca hit the roof together, the rough texture digging into Camille's hands as she caught herself. The fall must have knocked the wind out of Rebecca, stunning her momentarily. Camille grabbed for Rebecca's gun, but before she could wrestle it away, Rebecca slammed the heel of her hand up into Camille's face. Camille tasted blood, but felt nothing. Rebecca wormed out from under her, shoving her aside as they both scrambled up. Camille made a break for the ladder, getting between it and Rebecca, while Rebecca raised the gun again. She fired and Camille dodged, shifting into a high kick, catching her arm. Rebecca kept her grip on the gun but it left Camille close enough to grab her hand, sweeping it up so she couldn't aim.
Rebecca struck with her free hand, bringing it down against Camille's throat. As Camille sputtered, unable to get in a breath, Rebecca pulled her gun hand free and made for the ladder. Camille swiped a leg out, trying to topple her, but all she managed was to make Rebecca stumble. It was enough: Camille got in a breath and an elbow, connecting with Rebecca's gut. As she stumbled again Camille brought a knee up, balled her other hand into a fist, and punched hard. It slowed Rebecca down, stunning her enough for Camille to wrestle her gun away.
Before she could aim or fire, a shot came from the helicopter. Camille felt it distantly in her leg as she fell, her knee scraping against the rough rooftop. Rebecca grabbed the ladder and started yanking herself up. Camille forced herself over on to her back, firing upwards, but it was too late. As Rebecca high-tailed it up the ladder, the helicopter pulled away, out of range.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Camille screamed, pushing herself up to her knees. She twitched her fingers, bringing her in-eye display to life, and sent out another emergency call.
The White Knight's answer came almost instantaneously in her ear: "What's happening?"
"Rebecca. Escaping." She gasped in a breath. "I need you to transmit the order to close all spaceports. No one gets off this planet."
"Done," the voice in her ear answered. "They're gonna resist following it, though. Sovereign planets don't like to take orders from Civ inspectors. It'll be an incident."
"I know," Camille said, her vision starting to go blurry around the edges. Biomech couldn't hold pain off indefinitely, and it didn't stop injuries from taking their toll. "But I had her in my sights. She can't get off the planet."
"Then I'll speed things along. Good thing planetary traffic is run by an AI -- and there's not an AI in existence I can't hack."
"Thanks," Camille said. She pressed a hand to her side and it came back damp and warm. "Shit. I'm gonna need the local political leaders to meet me at a hospital. This is gonna hurt. Rebecca had better not get away."
"I've got an ambulance on its way to you, and everyone important on the planet will be there, if they know what's good for them."
"Great." Camille heaved a breath. "Great. Thanks. Send them up to the roof. I don't think I can climb down."
"I will. Hold on, Camille. Help's coming, just hold on."
Camille couldn't even get out words to answer. The world darkened around her and the first flares of pain penetrated her biomech. She clenched a fist, trying to keep herself going, but the blood loss was too much and the last thing she was aware of was the scream of an approaching ambulance.
--
Jo halted the ramp halfway through its descent. It wasn't touching the ground yet, though anyone who got a decent jump and had some upper body strength would be able to get up. Or at least, they would if Jo didn't have a gun in either hand. From this position, halfway down, she had a much wider range -- but a lot less cover. Damn, it would be nice if someone actually had her back.
The soldiers had stopped shooting when the ramp extended, but it wouldn't take them long to realize how exposed she was. She only had a few seconds, so they had to count. Good thing she'd been practicing since she'd learned to walk.
She took a deep breath and opened fire.
The soldiers fell back again, only one managing to fire at Jo. She waited as long as she could, and as their shock wore off, she ran back for the safety of the ship. She caught her breath inside, then peered out the hatch. They were regrouping again. She'd have to do it again, and this time they'd know she had no cover.
God damn it, if she lived through this, she was going to murder Mitchell with her bare hands.
--
Kendall was still out cold and didn't move at when Carlos tried to pull clothes on to him. He was breathing, but Carlos was terrified he had brain damage or something. He was in really bad shape. Bad enough shape that Carlos didn't think he could grab a transit back to the spaceport. The driver would probably call the cops on someone dragging an inert, bleeding body.
At least clothing was easy to find. None of it fit Kendall well, and it looked like Carlos had taken it from some kind of grab bag or something, but getting Kendall clothed was a good first step. From there, he tried to drag Kendall to a door, but a guard stepped in his way.
Carrying Kendall like that, Carlos couldn't grab for his weapon. "Uh, problem?" Carlos asked, trying for innocent, wishing Camille was still with him. This was the kind of thing that required lying.
"What are you doing with him?" The guard nodded at Kendall.
"Um, well," Carlos said, thinking hard, heart thudding in his chest, "Mercedes wants him... taken care of. But not here."
The guard nodded. "Don't take him out this way, then, you don't want the guests asking questions."
"Right, yeah," Carlos agreed, another thought occurring to him quickly. There was no way this was going to work, but... "I need a vehicle or something. Don't want people on the street to see this, either."
The guard nodded. "This way, come on. Let's get this done with."
"Yeah," Carlos agreed, and took a deep breath. Kendall stirred a little bit, and he clenched Kendall's limbs harder, willing him to stay under for just another minute or two. Just long enough for them to get out of there.
The guard brought them out to a small courtyard. There were entrances back into the building on two sides, and a tiny alley leading out. "You can do it here. Get the body out in that." He pointed at a wheelbarrow, sitting next to a tiny sapling, held up by stakes and twine.
"Okay. Yeah," Carlos agreed. "Thanks."
"Hey, where is Mercedes, anyway? No one's seen her, no one's seen Jo, and something's going on across town. She should know, but..."
Something was going on across town? Carlos thought of Logan and panicked, but the guard was still looking at him expectantly. He managed, "Uh. Um. I haven't... haven't seen her since she told me to, you know, deal with this. Awhile ago."
"Hmm, maybe she's just with one of her boys again," the guard said with a wry chuckle. "Well. I'll leave you to it."
"Yeah," Carlos said, unloading Kendall from his back. The guard headed back inside and Carlos took a deep breath. Kendall stirred again as Carlos dragged him towards the wheelbarrow, relieved, amazed he'd managed to get through that. "And you said I couldn't be sneaky," he mumbled to Kendall.
"What's... who... Carlos?"
"Yeah, it's me. Hang on," Carlos said. "Hold tight." He deposited Kendall against the wall, and Kendall sagged, barely staying upright. Carlos brushed some dirt out of the wheelbarrow and grabbed a tarp from the grass.
"Heyyyy, did I ever tell you you look really good?" Kendall mumbled. "You're so hot, mmm. I bet if you held me up, we could --"
"Yeah, no," Carlos said. "We're heading back to the ship. Logan'll fix you."
"Yeah, Logan can fix me all he wants," Kendall said, somehow smirking through his bruises. "You and Logan both, if you want, and... James..." He blinked. "James, what happened to James?"
Carlos wrapped an arm around Kendall's shoulders and decided fibbing optimistically was his best bet. "We're going to see him at the ship. But you can't walk and we need to hurry, so I'm giving you a ride in the wheelbarrow, okay?"
Kendall blinked again. He pressed a hand to his upper arm, where the shirt Carlos had found him covered bloody gauze, and then reached up to his face, pressing his fingers against the worst of his bruises. He nodded, wincing a little. "Yeah. Yeah, just get me out of here. Oh, fuck..."
Carlos basically had to pick him up and scoop him into the barrow. He heard Kendall hiss with pain. "You okay?"
"Will be. Just -- go. Please. Please."
Carlos wasn't going to argue with that. He pulled the tarp up and said, "Just hang on tight."
The wheelbarrow was awkward and cumbersome as Carlos made his way through the streets, and he worried about Kendall every time it bounced, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. It was slow going to get across the city without a transit, and people definitely gave him weird looks, but at least this late, not many people were out.
He stopped short when they finally reached the spaceport. The front was closed and locked, and a notice had been put up outside. He read: All space ports shut down, 24 hours minimum, as ordered by Traffic Control.
Shit. He jostled the gate, but it held. It wasn't a very good lock, though, since the port wasn't really designed to ever close, and the whole thing was rusty, the door only held shut by a chain wrapped between giant handles.
"This'll never work," he mumbled, backing the wheelbarrow up to a safe distance. Then he pulled his Taylor. It was mini, tiny, really, but Taylors weren't like other weapons and he'd trust his Taylor Mini over anything else any day.
Bracing himself, Carlos aimed and let a few shots go. They exploded with more force than a weapon that size should have been able to muster. He grinned despite himself as saw the broken lock.
He yanked the chain off and pushed the door open, braced it, and went back for the wheelbarrow.
"We get shot at?" Kendall mumbled from inside.
"Nope, just breaking down a door. No problem." He steered the barrow down the long hall, past the eerily empty food vendor booths, to the enormous lot where the ships actually lay in rest.
He hurried through the main walkway towards their space, but froze, several ships down. So this was the group Mercedes had sent. He didn't know if they were cops or soldiers or what, but there was a group of people of them firing up at the ship, where someone was firing back from the entrance ramp. He couldn't make out who it was -- it didn't look like Logan, but who else could be on board?
Whoever it was, things were not going well. It was just one person, and even though a surprising number of troops were dropping where they stood, there were just too many. The shooter -- a woman? Carlos caught a flash of blond and the figure seemed a little too curvy to be a guy -- was going to be overwhelmed, especially when one of the soldiers came around from the other side of the ship, shooting from behind her position.
She spun and took the soldier out, but there were still plenty of people firing up at her. She was going to be overwhelmed at any moment. Carlos' gun felt hot in his palm and he wanted to help, needed to so he could get Kendall onto the ship. But as soon as he tried, he'd give away their position, and there was no way he could defend himself and Kendall from where he was.
The shooter sent a final volley into the crowd of soldiers and ran back up the ramp, vanishing into the loading bay. Carlos wondered for a second if he could just make a run for the ramp -- maybe the shooter would see him, keep everyone off of him for long enough to get safely on board. But he couldn't see a way to get the shooter's attention unless she came back out, and even then, it would be damn near suicidal to try to run through the soldiers. And the entrance ramp wasn't even extended all the way down, now that he focused on it.
He looked down at the wheelbarrow, wishing Kendall was awake and coherent. He really could have used one of Kendall's brilliant plans. But Kendall was in no shape to come up with anything, so he was on his own.
--
"Oh god, oh god, oh god."
James moaned and rolled over, the room rocking and swaying, blurring around him. He braced himself and squinted until the room solidified from white and grey blurs into actual scenery: ceiling tiles, shelves of science equipment. A bed loomed above him, which meant he was lying on a floor. And, of course, there was the unmistakable sound of Logan having an utter panic attack.
"Logan, 'smatter?" James managed, looking over at him. And weirdly, though the world was looking clearer and clearer around him, he could swear the ground was shaking. Frowning, he wondered how the hell they'd ended up -- where? A ship's med bay? On the floor? He remembered having a few drinks, but that was about it.
"We, we just -- wait." Suddenly Logan was right in front of him, peering at him intently, and for some reason, Logan was naked.
Wait. So was he.
So that explained Logan's panic attack, probably.
"How drunk're we?" James asked, rubbing his eyes. "Ser'sly, I feel... I feel weird."
"You do? You feel -- no, wait. James. James."
"What?" James asked. "Where's my pants...? Did we actu'ly...?" He frowned. His words weren't coming out clearly and he felt kind of tingly, and his neck ached like he had some kind of horrible whiplash, and really, he and Logan had done... what? Because they couldn't have had sex. James had done some supremely stupid things while drunk in his life, but he would never make a move on one of his friends. And if he had, James was sure he'd remember it.
Except, now that he'd connected the ideas of Logan and naked and sex, he had this image of tugging Logan's pants down -- of kissing Logan's thigh and looking up into his eyes -- of Logan underneath him and his lips on Logan's neck and Logan's hand on his hip and oh fuck he and Logan actually had sex.
"We -- but you know my name." Logan grabbed his arm and James stared at him. The room wasn't shifting so wildly now, and some of the weird, tingling feeling was going away, though his neck still ached.
"Course I do." James frowned. "What's going on? Did you... did you pick me up?" Because if he'd gotten so drunk that he was still drunk, someone must have. There was no way he could drive himself, so however he'd gotten from the bar back to the ship... But why were they on the ship? They had another day of leave. Logan should have taken him home.
"Oh god," Logan said again, and vanished from in front of James. James watched him start to gather clothing, pulling it on. He wanted to get dressed too, and pushed himself up, but the world went a little wavy and the next thing he knew, Logan was pushing him onto the exam table.
"Where's my clothes? What's... I jus' need some water, why're you...?" he slurred as Logan started fiddling with equipment.
Logan paused and stared at him. "James, think. Please. Stop and think as hard as you can. What's the last thing you remember?"
James couldn't help it. He smirked at Logan. "You, un'erneath me."
Logan turned pink. "Before that."
James rolled his eyes, but frowned, thinking. Because the way he ached was weird, and he didn't feel hungover exactly, and even whatever had just happened with Logan was blurry, snatches of memories, nothing clear. So he did what Logan asked, concentrating.
Trying to remember was like looking through thick glass or at his reflection in the pool. Everything was there, but distorted, weird. But finally he latched on to something -- the reason he'd been out getting so hammered that he apparently thought hammering Logan was a good idea.
Kendall had tried to order him on to the ship. They still had two days of leave left, but some ambassador had wanted a tour and Kendall had insisted they all be there, even though James had plans. But of course he was the one the ambassador wanted to meet -- he was Brooke Diamond's son -- and it just pissed James off. He was on leave. It would have been one thing if he'd been the captain, responsible for the whole ship, the mission, keeping the ambassador happy, but apparently he wasn't good enough for that. He was just some cog that CivCorps was using to impress people. He'd snapped as much at Kendall, Kendall had ordered him to show up and smile.
He'd done it. He hated when Kendall pulled rank more than he hated anything else in the entire universe, but he'd obeyed the order. He'd stood there in dress uniform, smiled and shaken hands, and seethed silently the whole time. Afterwards, Kendall had tried to talk to him, but he'd exploded, stormed off the ship, and straight out to the bar. Because just like he had to obey orders when Kendall decided to be a dick about rank, he also wasn't allowed to punch his superior officer in the face.
Aloud, he managed, "I 'member Kendall being a dick."
"Yeah? And then?"
"I went to a bar," James said. "Had a few. You... you musta come got me, right?"
Logan shook his head no.
"Then what're -- why'd we -- no, but." James frowned. "Why'm I still drunk? What's going on?"
"James, I need you to lay down. I need to make sure you're okay," Logan said, looking back at the medical equipment.
"'M drunk, not sick."
"You're not drunk." Logan looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and there was something in his expression that James didn't like. He looked scared.
"I'm not?"
"No. James, you were... you were drugged. That night you stormed out, it was almost a year ago."
James stared at him. "That's not... not poss'ble. It was... it... but..."
"You were gone. Kidnapped. They... they brainwashed you, with this drug. That's why you don't remember anything, but it's no drug I've ever seen before and I need to make sure you're okay."
"But I wasn't... can't have..." James stared at him, waiting for Logan to break, say he was kidding, that this was some kind of elaborate prank.
But all Logan said was, "Do you remember anything else about that night? Anything before we... anything else? Lie down."
James did what he was told, lying across the medical table. Logan pulled a sheet up over him, which was a relief. As the equipment hummed, James tried to remember.
He'd been out drinking, and then... nothing.
He shut his eyes. Nothing? But, no. Not nothing. Because his neck hurt -- it had hurt before, not like this, but like --
There had been a collar and a needle and a cold voice and cruel laughter.
He remembered being desperate, begging. It had hurt and someone said... a woman said he'd get what he wanted.
Faces, dozens of them, too blurry to make out, but male and female both. He remembered hands on his body, hands and lips and so much more than that. Bodies and silk sheets and sex. People, so many people touching him --
"James," Logan said.
Some faces were clearer than others. A blond woman. She'd been there a lot. He groped for her name, couldn't find it. But he remembered her, her together with -- Kendall? But that was impossible...
There'd been a brunette, too. A woman with long curls and a beauty mark. She was gorgeous and she said she was going to help him. He tried to concentrate on her, remembered kissing her, pulling her on top of him, but not her name. It had started with a K, hadn't it? Karla? Kayla? Or a C --
"James!"
James' eyes flew open and Logan was staring at him in concern.
"Are you okay?" Logan asked.
James shook his head, which made his neck hurt, and the ache just made him remember. Someone had laughed at him. Someone had hurt him and laughed but he didn't know who, and dozens of people had grabbed him and touched him and used him and he had no fucking idea what had happened, and Logan said he'd been drugged for months and --
He practically fell off the table, collapsed on the floor, and threw up.
Chapter Ten