Chapter Text
Something was wrong.
They had gone over the plan at least five different times -- usually, Namjoon only made them repeat it back to him twice. But Jungkook had been on edge from the moment Namjoon had uttered the name of the ship they were targeting -- the Kingsman . Usually content with taking orders and keeping his place at flight control, the youngest of their band had tried to talk the leader out of it.
“There are other hard drives, hyung,” Jungkook had urged him. “With the same information. Can’t we try somewhere else?”
Namjoon had chuckled lightly, given him a reassuring smile, and assured him that everything would be fine. Jungkook, Namjoon reminded him, would fly down their field team -- Seokjin (whose codename switched every two days, but was currently operating under ‘Worldwide’), Jimin (also known as ‘Chim’), and Hoseok (‘Hope’) -- in their own ship’s only escape pod. Yoongi (well, ‘Suga’), had already hacked into the cameras, and would monitor them from back in the ship, warning them through their comm system of any potential danger. Taehyung (or ‘V’, as he was known during missions), would instruct them through the maze of a ship, as his job was navigation.
It was supposed to be foolproof.
But here they were, with Seokjin’s voice crackling through Namjoon’s headset -- “Suga, where’s Hope? Do you have eyes on Hope?” and Taehyung’s low urgings of, “Get back to Kookie, now… what are you doing? Get back to the pod!”
“What?” Namjoon asked. He tried not to sound breathless. He tried not to show any sign of distress. He was the captain of this crew, and he was the one who set the tone for the rest of them. If he panicked, so did everyone else. “What’s going on?”
“Shit,” Yoongi repeated, over and over again. “Shit, shit, shit… V’s right, get back to the pod. Security coming up on your left, Jin-hyung.”
“Can I take them?”
“No,” Yoongi said shortly. “There’s at least five of them. Don’t try to charm them either!”
“You have the drive,” Namjoon reminded his hyung, voice low and careful. “That’s what matters. Get back to the pod, but be stealthy about it. They’ve noticed Kookie, but they haven’t moved in yet, they’re still double-checking with their higher-ups.” If it came to a fight, he knew that the four of them on the Kingsman would give it everything they had.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to a fight.
The security guards passed in a blur on the screen, but popped up a few seconds later on another screen -- joining the growing mob that surrounded Jungkook’s pod. Labored breathing came from the line. “I can’t stay here. Hyungs, please… I can’t stay here.”
“Kookie,” Namjoon said. “Listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay? Breathe. In and out. In and out. Like that. You can panic when you get back, but not before.”
“Panic ruins progress,” Jungkook rattled off, a schoolboy repeating a lesson that had been drilled into him since he started with them two years ago. “ Ad astra per aspera .”
“That’s right. Breathe.” As he spoke, Namjoon monitored the other screens. Yoongi’s eyes were focused in on Seokjin, giving him the go-ahead to move forward, and Taehyung guided Jimin back through the hallways until he was in view of the pod.
A sentence Seokjin had uttered earlier fluttered through Namjoon’s mind, and he suddenly found it difficult to listen to his own instructions about not panicking. Have we got eyes on Hoseok? Where’s Hope?
Seokjin had arrived, coming to stand beside Jimin, his face set in a calculating pout as he examined the crowd. He was smart, quick on his feet, and charming. But it was clear that even he couldn’t make it through this one.
“I can’t get through,” Jimin whispered, upon seeing the cluster of people. At least twenty armed guards had swarmed the pod, and though the front window was tinted, so that none of them could peer inside, Namjoon could practically imagine the boy sinking into his seat, trying to disappear.“There’s too many. Some sort of distraction…”
“Did I hear distraction?”
Namjoon released his breath, laughing slightly with giddy relief. “Hoseok.”
Yoongi turned and raised a knowing eyebrow.
“Hope,” Namjoon quickly corrected. “Hobi. You’re okay.”
“For now I am. I...”
There was something in Hoseok’s voice. Something that made the smile fade off of Namjoon’s face. “What? Hoseok, what is it?”
“If I don’t make it out, I just wanted to say…”
“You’re going to make it out. Where are you?”
There was a pause. “I’m sorry.”
Several things happened then. First, a loud series of something that at first sounded like gun shots -- a sound that made Namjoon tense up, lurch forward to get closer to the screen, to see Hoseok, to affirm he was alright, his eyes scanning every possible screen. He didn’t have to scan many: one screen in particular made the source of the noise obvious in five seconds flat. Bright explosions had erupted in one of the rooms -- the room that Hoseok had been assigned to.
Next, all of the guards near the pod whipped around. Clearly, the sound had reverberated around the ship to catch their attention. Distraction , Namjoon cursed. Of course . All but one of the gathered fled, gone off to scour for the source of the noise.
Seokjin and Jimin knew to act quickly. With only one guard remaining, they had the advantage, and the woman was out cold before she could even see them approach.
“What did he do?” Yoongi cursed, as the screen previously filled with explosions went black. The camera had cut out, probably thanks to one of the explosives. “What the hell did he do?”
“Hoseok,” Namjoon hated the catch in his voice. Hated how tremors were pulsing through his body as the guards in one screen approached the room. “Hobi, please say something.”
“The others… they made it okay?”
An exhale of relief that bordered on a sob. “Stars, Hoseok, you scared me.”
“Did they?”
“They’re in. Now it’s just you. Hurry, though. The security team is coming back.” And so they were -- once again flooding the space with five, then seven, then ten, all wearing identical black suits. More black suits, like ants, seemed to crawl out of every crevice and into every screen. They swarmed the pod, they swarmed the room where the hard drive (full of valuable information, including the code to the safe of a certain King’s safe) had been previously stored, and they swarmed the screen near where the explosions had last been seen. They swarmed the shape Namjoon now recognized as Hoseok.
As soon as he saw it, Namjoon bolted forward. For once, the motion was smooth — perhaps because his eyes, his mind, his entire self was focused wholly on the screen in front of him. Somewhere, distant, Yoongi cursed and Taehyung uttered something desperate and uncertain. Certainty was the one thing Namjoon did not lack. “Hope. Hobi.” As if saying his name could bring him back. As if saying his name could prevent the security dressed in shadows from taking Hoseok’s arms and yanking them harshly behind his back, successfully preventing him from fighting back.
"It's okay," came Hoseok’s voice, “let them go.” Jungkook, Seokjin, Jimin. Safe in the pod, thank the stats. But they were safe without Hoseok.
“Not without you,” somehow, Namjoon’s voice remained steady. He was the captain, he told himself like a mantra. And for Captains, practicality had to come first; it was how they would survive. It was how they always survived. And they could not survive without Hoseok -- Namjoon couldn’t survive without Hoseok.
“RM,” came the voice of Jimin -- tentative despite the urgency. “Someone’s pounding on the sides of the pod. I think…”
There was a crackle of static, before Jungkook started speaking. “We have to go,” he demanded. “We have to go now.”
“Suga?” Namjoon was unable to glance away from the Hoseok, but he could hear Yoongi typing something furiously into the computer.
“You have to get them out of there.”
“But Hoseok…”
Yoongi hesitated before prying off his headset. “I’m sorry. We have to leave him.”
Namjoon felt his heart drop. “No. There’s another way, there has to be.”
“Then tell me. I’m listening.”
Desperately, Namjoon grappled with this thoughts, tried to rally them into some semblance of a plan as the monitor showed the struggling form of Hoseok settle into complacency. “I--”
“Please, hyung.” Jungkook was normally able to keep a level head in these situations -- but now, his voice was shaky, a tremor apparent in every word. Panic ruins progress was a phrase far from all their minds. “Please, I have to go.”
“You give the order, or I will.” Yoongi’s voice was halfway between sympathy and certainty. He reattached his headset, his fingers beginning to fly over the keys in an attempt to set off alarms, in order to close doors, in order to do anything he could to help Hoseok. It was no use -- nothing was working. Numbers spiralled over one of the screens, snippets of letters and code that Namjoon didn’t recognize. He felt suddenly dizzy, unsteady; the pounding in his head began to harmonize with the beating of his heart.
“Go,” Hoseok managed, surrender evident in his voice. “Go, please. Just go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes,” Yoongi said. “You are.” He looked tired all of a sudden, the fire pulling his hands across the keyboard suddenly extinguished. With one regretful glance at Namjoon, he said, “Jungkook, go. Quickly.”
“We can’t just leave him there. What are you doing? We can’t leave him behind!” Namjoon tried to keep his voice steady, but it crescendoed in a treble of regret, his panic clawing free of his chest.
“Namjoon,” Hoseok repeated. Yoongi typed something in, and the screen zoomed in on the boy. The boy who made Namjoon’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every brilliant smile, who made his face heat up with every careless touch, who made Namjoon fall a little bit more, every time he said Namjoon’s name. The monitor showed his arms forced behind his back, a sad smile on his face. Namjoon stared at the boy through welling tears -- memorizing him as if this was the last look he’d ever get.
“Hoseok,” Namjoon managed. I love you, he wanted to say. He tried to say it, but the words got stuck in his throat, in the tears pooling in his eyes. I love you. I swear I love you more than the stars love the sky.
There was a pause on the other end too, words hovering in Hoseok’s own mouth that didn’t spill over. There was a grunt, and the form of Hoseok on the monitor fell to the floor. The tears spilled over and Namjoon tried to wrench his eyes away from the screen. He couldn’t. He could only watch as Hoseok rose and was flung to the ground, again and again and again. Beyond Namjoon’s reach.
I love you, he tried to say again. I left you.
Heavy breathing in his in-ear from Hoseok.
A warning of, “We’re almost out of range,” from Taehyung.
A growl of, “Cameras cut in three,” from Yoongi.
“Ad astra per aspera.” Hoseok’s voice was a whisper on the other line, the motto of their crew floating into the air before him. It was difficult to ignore the splash of blood now coating his lips, cascading onto the silver tile beneath him. Ad astra per aspera: to the stars, through difficulties.
“Please," Namjoon’s voice was hoarse, broken. “Hoseok, I…”
The line cut out.
Distantly, Namjoon registered the report that the other three members of their crew had all arrived back to the ship safely.
All Namjoon could focus on, really, was the stars racing past as they left Hoseok behind.
Was this what it felt like when that asteroid hit Earth all those thousands of years ago? Namjoon thought numbly. Was this what it felt like to leave your whole world behind?
There was a shape, hesitating before him. The leader didn’t have to look up to know who it was.“Namjoon. Hyung, I’m sorry.” Jungkook bit his lip, fiddled with his comm until it clicked off. Clicked on again. “I -- we’re going to get him back. I just…”
“It’s not your fault, Jungkook.” Namjoon felt like slumping to the floor, felt like holding his head in his hands and blocking out the universe until it returned him to Hoseok. “It’s no one’s fault. We’ll figure it out later.”
Either Jungkook could hear the exhaustion in Namjoon’s voice, or he trusted Namjoon enough to drop the subject. The youngest nodded once, before entering the pilot’s cabinet, where he truly belonged. Jin was next -- Jin, who seemed to know everything before Namjoon himself. Carefully, the elder placed an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders. “Jungkookie’s right. We’ll get him back. Understand?”
“I just… I…” Namjoon’s shoulders shook once, the precursor to a silent storm of tears, and Jin’s grip tightened around him.
“I know,” Jin whispered. And somehow, Namjoon knew he did.
“Hoseok’s comm is out,” Yoongi muttered. “They must have deactivated it.”
“If it’s any help,” Jimin’s whisper was quiet, uncertain. “We got the hard drive.”
“Thanks, Jiminie.” Jin’s voice faded, the voices of everyone faded. All Namjoon could hear was the last echo of Hoseok, his voice crackling in Namjoon’s comm, his lips already bloody from abuse. That was on Namjoon. It was his fault -- his own damn fault. Ad astra per aspera, Hoseok had said. Namjoon tried to repeat it to himself, a mantra to anchor himself, to calm himself down as Hoseok always seemed to. But a memory was no proper replacement for a person. A memory of a smile, of a backhug, of silences and giggles and a mutual understanding of something deeper was no replacement for Jung Hoseok. No star in the galaxy could ever compare.
The overhead comms of the ship crackled, and Namjoon’s head shot up, eyes suddenly squinted in trepidition. Jin retracted his hands from Namjoon’s shoulders, positioning them subtly and defensively at his sides, as if that could help them against an invisible threat.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon said carefully. “I thought you said his comm was down.”
“It was,” Yoongi said. “It is. It’s not him. Gimme a second and I’ll trace it.”
“You don’t need a second, Min Yoongi. I will gladly tell you who I am, and where I am.” The voice was distinctly male, low in register and slightly gruff -- as though the owner hadn’t spoken for many years.
“He can hear us,” Yoongi muttered to himself, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “This is a one-way comm. How can he hear us?”
“My name is Lee Hyunsik. You may better know me by my position as the Captain of the Kingsman. ” The voice on the comm announced. Namjoon’s hands clenched into fists. The salt of his tears still stung his cheeks.
“You ,” Namjoon whispered, and hoped the man heard the fury in his voice.
“Kim Namjoon. I presume it was you I heard speaking to Jung Hoseok here?”
“Don’t you touch him,” Namjoon’s voice was thunder. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Now, now, Mr. Kim. No need for anger. I’m keeping your… friend here as a token of good faith. We all need a little faith, don’t we?”
“Is he hurt?” Jimin’s voice wavered slightly. “Is… is he okay?”
Namjoon could almost hear the smirk on Lee’s face. “Twenty hours from now, Mr. Kim. Mars Station 0815. Come alone and unarmed. I trust you know what will happen if you don’t.”
Let him go, Namjoon’s mind screamed. Take me instead. Just let him go.
“Mr. Kim?”
“Yes,” Namjoon bit out.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t lose hope, Mr. Kim.”
The intercom fizzled out.
Silence replaced it.
“Well?” Jin broke it, determination set on his face. “Yoongi-ssi, did you trace it?”
“No,” Yoongi said. “No, I was busy trying to figure out how he could hear us. How the hell could he hear us?”
“Is… Is Hope okay?” Jimin piped up. “They’re just keeping him in a cell, right? They aren’t… they wouldn’t… hurt him, would they?”
Namjoon remembered the blood splattered across Hoseok’s lips, the guards throwing him down again and again and again. He shut his eyes, but the image didn’t vanish.
“Taehyung,” Namjoon said. There was no response. Louder: “Taehyung!”
The boy shook himself out of his stupor. Namjoon wasn’t the only one who had been crying. “Yes, hyung?”
“Can you get us to Mars 0815 by tomorrow?”
“You can’t be serious.” There was something underlying Taehyung’s voice, something that Namjoon was too worn-out to decipher. “You’re really going to meet him?”
“I have no choice, do I?”
He waited for the others to protest, to tell him that he always has a choice, they’ll figure out another way . The protests didn’t come.
“That’s settled then. Let’s meet this son of a bitch. We have twenty hours.”
☆
The Mars 0815 Station, named for one of the original humanity search teams, was a breeding ground for conmen and criminals. According to brief research done by Yoongi, the station had been abandoned by expansion groups approximately twenty years earlier for reasons undisclosed. The mere description of the place had set off the alarms in Namjoon’s head: no cameras, no overhead comms, no regulations of any sort. The blueprints were just as vague, showing only the off-limits tech rooms (run by self-refueling engines that harnessed the heat energy of the nearest star), a large room that took up most of the ship, and a haphazard garage at the South end.
This was where Jungkook had navigated the pod to let him off, his fingers tapping nervously even as he promised his hyung not to leave before he returned. It was a promise they hadn’t kept for Hoseok, a piercing thought reminded Namjoon. It was a promise that Namjoon himself did not deserve.
“I can’t take my comm or weapons with me,” Namjoon reminded the younger, handing him his in-ear and a small, but all too real, laser. “If I’m not back in two hours, leave.”
“I told you, hyung. I won’t --”
“Jungkook,” Namjoon paused in his disarmament to look the boy directly in the eyes. “Please. Leave me behind.”
“RM…”
A splash of scarlet against silver tile, crimson against Hoseok’s cheek. A grunt as he falls to the floor. Namjoon reaches out and presses his fingers against the screen, helpless from afar. The overhead comm crackles with a threat, the voice of the man who stole Hoseok away.
“Leave me.”
Namjoon reached towards his wrist, where a seemingly-simple watch was ever-present. It had been a gift from Hoseok, all those years ago. The first gift Namjoon had ever been given, really. Yoongi had reprogrammed it to include a discreet laser, a small camera, and a tracker, amongst other devices. He’d planned to leave it behind, as per the ‘no weapons’ request. At the last minute he changed his mind, gripping it tightly as if for support before nodding to Jungkook and exiting the pod.
“Good luck, hyung,” Jungkook whispered. His voice was scared, broken. The voice of a boy who had already left too much behind. “Be careful.”
“Please, Jungkookie,” Namjoon managed an uneasy grin. “When am I ever not careful?” When it mattered most, a voice replied. Namjoon tried to ignore it.
Jungkook, wisely, did not reply.
The body of the station was one large room. Any equipment the previous team had used was long gone. Numerous tables had replaced them, circular in the center of the room with old-fashioned Earthen booths lined the sides. There was a couple whispering quietly at one of the booths, and a lone man with a scraggly beard seated at another, looking forlornly at a hologram he had pulled up. Another man sat a few booths down from him, face obscured in shadow.
Noise pummeled Namjoon’s ears, distracting him from his calculated observation as cheers erupted from a group seated at one of the circular tables. A groan from one of the gathered, and when he squinted, Namjoon saw that they were playing a holographic game of cards. A fight broke out at the back of the room, and Namjoon tried not to remember fists bruising Hoseok’s face, tried not to remember blood dripping towards the tile…
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Kim,” taking advantage of Namjoon’s distraction, the man basked in shadow has sidled up to Namjoon. He was about a head taller, and Namjoon hated that he had to look up to see his angular face. “Though I’m sure you can’t say the same.”
“Mr. Lee, I presume.” Namjoon responded coolly. He hadn’t slept, but he tried not to let it show. “You’ve brought us to a gambling den.”
The man smirked. “We aren’t here to gamble, Mr. Kim. Unlike you, I prefer to have a method to my madness.” Namjoon’s hands curled into subtle fists — annoyed, but unwilling to show it. “No, see. I’m here to strike a deal with you, Mr. Kim.”
“The hard drive is yours,” said Namjoon, too quickly. At this point he would gladly give his right arm if it meant saving Hoseok — hell, he’d give both arms, his legs. He would tear his wicked heart straight out of his chest.
Lee, however, just threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t warm and full like the laughter Namjoon was used to back on his ship. It was more of a cackle, glass sliding across steel. “I know the hard drive is mine, Mr. Kim. And I will get it back before this all ends. But that’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Though phrased as a question, Namjoon heard the tone of command that only a captain could convey. There was no use arguing, Namjoon figured. following his enemy into a booth and taking the seat across from him. He wished to get this done as swiftly as possible. Jungkook was waiting for him after all. And besides, the sooner he struck a deal, the sooner Hoseok would return to them. To him.
“Have you ever visited a Mars station before, Mr. Kim?”
The man asks so many questions, Namjoon thought bitterly, but provides so few answers. But he would play the game, if he had to. He would charm and persuade and dance. But God, it had better have a result he agreed with. “No,” Namjoon said, “I can’t say I have.”
“They’re all like this. Descended into ruin and wretchedness. It’s no place for civilized people.”
“So you visit often, then.”
A sharp bark of a laugh. “I’m more civilized than you are, one would think.”
“Yes,” Namjoon agreed drily. “One would think.” He brought his hands atop the table, clasping them together. His eyes flicked to his watch once, hoping the man in front of him did not suspect foul play.
“People like me,” Mr. Lee supplied, echoing Namjoon’s movements - either consciously or subconsciously, it was hard to tell. “We don’t operate with people like you, Mr. Kim.”
He recognized the power play - the repetition of Namjoon’s surname, over and over, using it as a display of dominance that he had over the younger male. “And what sort of people would that be?”
“Pirates. Thieves…”
“Gods?”
“If you’re a god, Mr. Kim, then we may have more in common than I first presumed.”
Namjoon was tiring of the game. Charm was not his area -- that belonged to Hoseok. To Hoseok with his easy smiles and full laughter and warm words full of joy and optimism. “What do you want, Lee?”
“My, no honorifics for your elder?”
“I’m a pirate.”
Lee smirked. “I thought you said you were a god.”
Don’t let him shake you, Kim Namjoon. Don’t let him win this game. “What do you want?”
“Well, I know what you want, Mr. Kim. I have a certain Jung Hoseok in my custody, and I know you’re dying to win him back.” There was a tug on Namjoon’s wrist, but he barely registered it. Rage had filled his veins in place of blood, and it was taking all he had not to slap the smirk off the man’s face.
“He’s alive, then.”
Lee scoffed. “Of course he’s alive. In my experience, dead men don’t make very good hostages.”
“So he’s a hostage.”
“That’s right. I have something you need, and you have something I need. So, thus,” -- raised eyebrows, a deceptively pleasant smile -- “a trade.”
“I told you already, sir.” The ‘sir’ he bit out was sarcastic, tinged in the venom of a serpent, bitter in tone. “The hard drive is yours.”
“And as I told you previously, I’m very well aware. And I will have it back before it all ends. But what I wish for is a person. Something that will make this all more equal, don’t you think?”
Warning bells began to sound in Namjoon’s head, but he ignored them. “Give me a name.”
“So eager.”
“A name, Lee.”
Lee’s smile didn’t falter. “Shin Jiseok. The Crown Prince of Empire Seven.”
Namjoon wasn’t one to keep up to date with such things -- he left that to Taehyung and Yoongi -- but even he knew of Empire Seven. The most dominant of the Universe’s twelve Empires, Empire Seven spanned several planets and was the richest Empire in the Universe. It’s monarchy had been popular with the general populace as well, regarded as fair and kind, until an accident had tragically left both the Queen and King dead almost three years ago. They had had a son, but Namjoon hadn’t heard much of him since his parents’ passing.
“The Crown Prince,” he finally managed to say.
“That’s right.”
“Is he not currently ruling an Empire?”
“Unfortunately, he’s been kidnapped. The Kingsman has been scouring the skies, searching for the poor boy, to no avail.”
“Kidnapped,” Namjoon deadpanned. “By whom, exactly?”
“You tell me, Mr. Kim.”
Namjoon grit his teeth, tapping his fingers on the table before him, ignoring the flashes of holograms that popped up as he did so. When he finally settled, the holograms dissipated, allowing him to see Lee’s face in all it’s disgusting glory. Unsurprisingly, he was smirking.
Hoseok, Namjoon thought. He held onto the word, the face, the soul, the spirit -- a prayer, a promise. If this was the only way to get him back, then he would do it. He would steal every star from the sky. Hell, he would kidnap an impossible prince. “That’s all?”
“And the hard drive, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Will you take the job?”
Namjoon forced a bitter laugh. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you wish to see your ‘Hope’ again.”
He knew about the code names too, then. Damn it. “I’ll take it. We’ll take it.” He hoped he spoke for all of his crew, but there was no time and no way to converse. It felt awkward, having a conversation like this without being wired up.
“That’s settled then. You have seven days to return the Crown Prince.”
Seven days? Namjoon nearly bolted from his seat, nearly tried to flip the table. The rage that had simmered down flared back up again, consuming him in a fire of revenge. If the Kingsman had been scouring the skies for the Prince for weeks, how was Namjoon and his crew supposed to find him in days? The task was impossible, and belatedly Namjoon realized that might have been the point.
Lee rose from the table, but not before leaning over to purposefully tap the surface of Namjoon’s watch. Namjoon glanced down. Instead of the time, the face of it read: 07:00:00. A moment later, it changed to 0 6:23:59 . “Time is ticking, Mr. Kim. Don’t be late.”