Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Space travelling used to be way harder back in the days. From professors, family members, and random people he met in the planets he visited, Joel Smallishbeans always heard the same things at least once: “twenty years ago, the ships didn't have these fancy engines of yours! We flew our ships with strength and determination!” And don't get him wrong, he loves a good story about the vintage air and spacecrafts that belong in museums now.

But Joel is a pilot, and a damn good one. If he was confined to one of those old ships that didn't even have hyperspace capability, he would probably break down in tears.

Thankfully, he never came to that point. The ships he flew with the Neo Vita Squadron were the best ones in the market, and he couldn't be more proud of that. Taking for example his personal spacecraft, the Red Wolf : equipped with a hyperdrive, laser cannons and enough torpedo launchers to last a lengthy mission, Joel's darling ship was one of the fastest of the fleet.

The sky might be the limit for some, but surely not for him.

He's flying above Mezalea that morning, enjoying the clear blue sky over the dry mesa. A song is playing over the radio, the funky tunes making him hum the lyrics. It's a lovely day, truly, and he couldn't wish for a better one. Then his communicator beeps, the moment is lost, and Joel groans at the interruption.

“N.V.S. Five, please respond.” It's a robotic voice that calls, and he's aware of the urgency implied in using artificial intelligence instead of a crew member. It's a busy day at the headquarters, he assumes.

“This is Red Wolf, reporting for duty.” His standard reply comes out slowly.

“You have one mission in stand-by, head to Central Station to receive orders on how to proceed.”

“Understood.” The call ends, and he sighs.

Joel loves his job, more than anything in the world. What was supposed to be just a summer job became his passion, and the hours he spends among the stars were infinitely better than the ones spent under Mezalea's hot suns. Flying the Red Wolf , helping the Squadron keep the galaxy a safe place… “What else could you ask for?” , he can hear the question from miles away.

But there's just something about being told what to do every day that doesn't sit right with him, which is odd, because that's the textbook definition of a job.

Howbeit, there's no time to complain about it. Joel locks the route on the ship's navigator and makes extra adjustments to the route. He knew the way to the Central Station from the back of his head, but being careful never hurts, especially in such a complicated field as astronomy. There's no debris and no other ships on his route, and he can confirm it after the third sensor check.

His engines are buzzing in enthusiasm, just like he always is. Joel pulls a lever, and the next thing he sees is the blurry trace of the stars, making way for the Red Wolf to start the trek.

No matter the quarter of the galaxy that you came from, the Central Station was impossible to miss. With the size of a small moon and satellites surrounding it, the in and out of various ships was constant. Merchant, military, transportation, you name it: the Station was the starting and end point of the journey of many.

It was fitting that the headquarters of the Neo Vita was located inside one of the satellites. From a distance, Joel could see the squadron's ships parked all around; the bright yellow Canary , the mossy green Chronos , the black and white Hokage … It was rare for the whole team to be together like that; surely it was a busy day for them, he guessed correctly.

He parks the Red Wolf by their side, and connects to the Squadron's radio. Immediately, Joel is hit by a discussion that he's not sure if he wanted to be part of.

“And then, get this,” Tango, known as the pilot of the Ravager , is telling the story, “He stabbed me in the back!”

“I didn't do anything, it was your own fault!” B-00, aboard the Chronos, defends himself at a high volume. At first, Joel thinks the voice module of the android is broken, but then he remembers: Bdubs is always loud.

“Liar! You knew exactly what you were doing!”

Joel hates being clueless, especially in situations where something funny is happening and he's not involved. The discussion is still going on when he uses his communicator to text Scar.

<joel_sb:> whats going on??

<gtws:> bdubs got the last piece of cake from the cafeteria, and tango is MAD

He laughs at the scenario that he's pretty sure that happened at least another five times before. The squad may be professional in their missions, but their endeavors surely weren't. He types a comment, mocking the inability that B-00 (who can't eat regular food) has to stay away from trouble, but before he can hit the send button, a voice on the radio makes everyone quiet.

“I am going to be so quick today that this meeting could probably be an e-mail.” It's Colonel Littlewood's that starts the meeting. “All four quarters of the galaxy have a problem to be solved, so I'm dividing you in duos.”

Joel frowns. It's not that he doesn't like his colleagues, he absolutely does; however, he's more of a lone wolf himself. Even before the directions are given, he's absolutely certain that his mission would be faster if he was alone. But they're a Squadron, after all, it's not like he has a say in that topic. Bones of the work, or some ancient quote like that.

He doesn't notice that he zoned out until he hears the name of his ship on the radio. “… and lastly, Hawkeye and Red Wolf, you're assigned to the investigation of a ship that is in Grimmlands territory. They think it's a threat, our intelligence thinks it's a mistake, you two go mediate and figure it out.” The information comes fast, and he barely has time to absorb all of it. “Good luck, squad.”

The radio goes silent after that, finishing the meeting. Littlewood was right, it could have been an e-mail, but he wouldn't be the one to point that out. Ships start to move in their appointed directions, and Joel can see some pilots waving before disappearing into the hyperspace.

Right, no more fooling around, it's mission time.

Being paired up with Scar wasn't a bad thing, he thinks while searching for him around the satellite. Of course there was always the risk of ending up with damages beyond repair, be it on his ship or Scar's (Joel remembers the Crystal Incident almost every day, because the scratch on the paint of his ship never came off), but he was a fun partner to have around.

On top of that, having Jellie as the third member of the team was always a delight.

He finds the Hawkeye on the west side of the satellite. Joel ponders how funny it would be to shoot him with his blasters for a second. It would be hilarious. Before he gives up on the idea, he locks the blasters, sees the notification that Scar's shields are up, and shoots. He holds the smile until his radio starts transmitting again.

“You!” Joel cracks up in laughter, the indignation in Scar's voice making the situation hilarious for him. “Do you have any idea– I could have died!”

“Your shields are up, I can see them from here!”

“Of a heart attack! You made my heart skip a beat!”

Hawkeye continues to complain via radio, and Red Wolf continues to laugh on the same device. Surely they would all laugh together later, along with the rest of the Squadron, but one thing was certain in the future: there would be a payback (he still finds pink hair strands on his head from the retaliation of his last pranks).

“Watch your back from now on, Beans.” The warning comes as he dries the tears from the laugh.

“Always.” Joel chuckles one last time before switching to “responsible pilot mode”. Checking his communicator, he receives the coordinates of the mystery ship from the Colonel, and starts setting the route. “You got the coords too?”

“Yep. Locking in right now.”

For the second time that day, he pulls the hyperdrive lever. “See you on the other side!” he says, before cutting the radio for a bit. Joel enters the hyperspace, sees the blurry stars and smiles.

When he was younger, he liked to count out loud the seconds between his origin point and the arrival. But now, Joel knew beforehand that it would take forty-five seconds between the Central Station and the Grimmlands territory, with three additional seconds if the arrival point had debris to be aware of. “I'm not a nerd” , he often complains, “I'm just superb at my job.”

Estimated time later, the ship's speed starts to decrease, the stars are once again at their normal appearance and the Red Wolf is right in front of an enormous cargo ship. Joel has to agree with the Grimmland's intuition: if he saw one of these things above Mezalea, he would also believe that was a threat. He doesn't remember ever seeing a ship of that size before, at least not outside history books. A millisecond after his arrival, Scar is by his side, on his mint and gold ship.

They turn on the radio again, but don’t say a thing for a while. The giant ship the color of the dart frogs, armed to the brim, took all their words and left them in awe. Joel is the one to break the silence: “Not going to lie, I expected something smaller.”

Scar laughs nervously. “Like the size of a small asteroid instead of the size of a moon?”

“Yeah.” He breathes in and out. “Are you ready for this?”

“I was born ready!” The answer is more energetic than he expected. It cheers him up, and despite his sweaty hands, Joel smiles.

They proceed to fly in the direction of the blue ship slowly, to not draw negative attention. Joel uses his sensors to detect danger (weapons being loaded, shields being raised, anything that threatens their security), while Scar searches for their outer communication signal. Once they were ready for contact, Hawkeye initiated the first message.

“Unknown ship, this is Captain Goodtime of the Neo Vita Squadron. You have invaded Grimmland's space territory and are threatening its sovereignty. Please, identify yourself and state your intentions so we can come to some sort of agreement that won’t end with your ship being blown up to bits.”

“That wasn’t very friendly.” Red Wolf comments, and just knows that Scar is grinning.

“What do you mean? I said please–” The reply was cut short by a noise on their radio.

Calling it a “sound” would be too gentle. It was horrendous, a screech, so high-pitched that it made them want to rip their ears out. It lasts for five long seconds, and when Scar cuts the communication forcing it to end, a buzzing remains. Annoying, to say at least, and Joel wants to curse all the heavens for that.

“What the hell was that!”

“I have no idea!” Joel checks the sensors again, to see if there are any changes. Oddly, there's none. The ship is still in resting position, no guns nor shields. “Want to try again?”

“Nuh uh, it's your turn! I will contact Grimmlands to let them know we’re trying our best here.” Scar sighs. “Thank Aeor I got new ear protectors for Jellie, imagine that noise on her ears!”

Ignoring the implication that his partner brought his cat to a mission (even after the Colonel expressed many concerns about it), he hesitates to turn the comms on again. Admittedly, he isn't great at communication skills. Of the duo, he was the speed and Scar was the talk. The elf had this way with words and getting people to agree with the most stupid deals so easily that he got jealous of it sometimes. Joel's special talent was math. He was pretty certain that equations wouldn't help them with unholy sounds.

“Unknown ship, this is– gah! ” The noise returns to the radio, just as awful, and he promptly turns it off for good. “You know what, never freaking mind.”

The conclusion is that diplomacy won’t work. It may have worked in other conflicts, but the mysterious ship's inability to cooperate was making everything harder for them. The time to take action was now, and Joel is excited to shoot something (for real, this time).

“Did Grimmlands say anything?” He asks.

“They said we’re free to do anything, and I quote, 'just get that shit out of my sky'.” From the tone of it, Count F’Whip wasn’t happy with that situation either. “So we’re blasting it?”

He wants to say yes, even as his hands hover above the weapons panel. But his brain is suddenly buzzing with ideas, a result of his curiosity about what was the noise on the radio. What if it was a distorted distress signal? Or even better, a race that communicates differently from them, just saying hello? They would never know if the ship and whatever was inside of it was destroyed. Joel ponders about the next move with care.

“Follow me.” He says, flying the Red Wolf around the giant ship, and stopping where he could see the back of it. “Look at your sensors. Do you see a gap between those torpedo launchers?”

“Yeah?”

“It's a bay door.” He's grinning like a kid on Mothertree Day. “And for some reason, it's open. Sealed, obviously, but open. Anyone can fly up there.”

“Ok…” Scar is slow to pick up his idea. He understands it; it was so simple it felt stupid to say out loud. “You want to go to the ship with a demon in charge of the communication?”

“That's the idea.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Scar Goodtime had his fair share of bad ideas in his life. Heard them, planned them, executed them… One would argue that his latest idea (bringing his cat to a mission) was a bad one, but he disagrees (and he had nowhere to leave Jellie, so bringing her inside his pocket was the solution). He's a well-rounded wood elf with several deeds on his curriculum that occasionally aren't great.

So when Joel suggests “let's enter the scary ship through the back door” , he thinks it's not the worst thing he ever heard, and goes along.

He's pretty sure he's seen a ship just like that one before, but not in operation. Scar saw it in a spacecraft museum, back in Rivendell (and was visiting the place that he fell in love with aviation and the like). Flying around it, he could recognize some characteristics of the propulsion system and cannons. It was a remarkable and vintage ship that he would love to own. But there was nowhere in his treehouse to keep it, so that was a dream he would have to leave in dreaming.

Like the Red Wolf pilot said, there was indeed a bay door in the back. Joel’s red ship is the first to cross it, fast and precise as usual. After the confirmation that no alarms were triggered and no weapons were being activated, the Hawkeye follows.

The inside was less impressive than the outside. A standard platform acting as a landing area, with a few other ships, also incredibly old, scattered around. It's like a garage, but if the owner didn't care about their property. It was sad to see, but intriguing at the same time: what the hell was the deal with that ship?

Scar puts on his oxygen mask and leaves his ship, with Jellie safe inside his pocket (better than being left alone in the Hawkeye, that's for sure!). Some steps ahead, Joel, also outside his ship, is looking, part in amusement, part in concern. To begin the conversation, Goodtime asks about something that was bugging him.

“How did you find this out?” Joel raises an eyebrow. “The door?”

“Read it somewhere. Back in the days, every ship had an emergency exit that was always open.”

“Oh.” He might have missed that completely. “‘Back in the days’, as in a hundred years ago?”

“Around seventy, actually.” Joel says, immediately regretting being so specific. “If you call me a nerd…”

“I didn't say anything!” Scar raises his hands in self-defense, holding back a smile. “You said it yourself.”

Captain Smallishbeans opens his mouth to say something, surely a clever answer, when a loud crack is heard across the platform they stand on. It's not unbearable, like the one on the radio, but it's just as unsettling. The ship so far felt empty, devoid of life. Apart from the previous screech, nothing pointed toward life of any kind inside the place.

Scar wasn't one to believe very much in demons (shadow creatures, manifestation of fears, you name it), but he knew they exist somewhere between this universe and all the others. He does not know if it was one of them that decided to pick that specific day to mess with two innocent pilots and one entire planet, but he knows that they need to put an end to this cruel joke once and for all.

His partner seems to disagree. “Let's go back to the ships.”

“We can't.”

“What?!” Joel exclaims, his voice echoing across the empty space. “We need to get this ship out of Grimmlands, let's just blow it up! It was your idea, from the beginning!”

“But if there's a life form here, we have to contact it first.” Scar doesn't need to remind him of their code of honor. “It was your first idea.” He can see many possibilities flashing through Joel's thoughts, before ending with a deep and dramatic sigh.

“Fine!” He gives up at last. “What are we doing then? Following the noise?”

Clapping his back, Scar nods, and adds before he can protest. “Sounds great! Lead the way!”

Joel murmurs in his mother tongue, complaining to hell and back, before starting to walk towards the big rusty airlock door that was, ironically, unlocked. He steps inside, but Jellie starts to complain before he can really settle in. Reaching for her inside his pocket, Scar takes her out, letting the sizeshifter do her trick to stretch lazily on the floor.

“Don't wander too far”, he tells her, scratching behind her huge ears, “I will be right back.”

And so a giant cat is set loose on the ship. Scar knew she could handle herself perfectly fine. Joel, on the other hand, was looking like someone on the verge of a breakdown. Maybe they should have blown up the ship, but they were too professional to go through with that idea.

It was surprising that the radio worked, after all this time serving as a mere object of decoration, but everything at that point was a surprise to him. The fact that the radio distorted his messages didn't come as a shock, and he gave up on trying too hard to communicate before the other side gave up as well.

So Grian waited, on the decaying ship he shared with the living representation of decay. What was he even waiting for? Help? At that point, he was just relieved that the Evolution wasn't blown up to bits and shattered across the galaxy. “Hope is the last one to die” , his co-pilot had told him before dying. So he stood there, eager to see anything or anyone that would get him out of this situation.

The wait proved to be worth it when two ships came across the bay door. From the ceiling he made a nest on (old habits are hard to ditch), he watched as the two pilots discussed against themselves a course of action. One, with antennae and green hair, wanted to leave; the other one, with long hair and pointy ears, argued that they should stay.

Then the later said a thing that Grian did not expect. What did he mean with “getting the ship out of Grimmlands” ? And how exactly did they plan to do that? If he had any hope of trusting the pilots, it became null and void.

He needs to know who those people are inside his spaceship. It may house an extinction device in the basement, but it is his Evolution , his home . He is the last one alive, and he is going to do anything to protect it; even if it meant dealing with meddling pilots from a Squadron he never heard of in his life.

Joel was going to have a serious talk with Colonel Littlewood when they returned to Central Station. Hells, he would take it to General Sparklez himself. “Investigate it” wasn't near to being a real instruction, what was he thinking when he agreed to this mission? (He wasn't. He was thinking about cakes and pranks instead of paying attention.) Here's all the things he managed to investigate while walking on the long hallways of that spacecraft:

1- The ship was seemingly empty, but with clear signs of recent living activity.

2- Sporadically, there was a loud and high-pitched noise coming from below. He never heard of anything like it, and he intended to never hear it again.

3- That ship was incredibly old .

Not old in a “I own the Red Wolf for three years now, but it's well conserved” way. It was old, as in it has been in space for seventy years or more and hasn't seen the face of a mechanic in that time. Every step they take makes a noise. Every exposed pipe on the walls makes a noise. The, and he had to give it to Scar for nailing the description of that one, demon in the basement makes so much noise. He wants to leave so badly that he’s aware that he looks stupid.

“Cheer up, Beans!” Scar was too excited about that little excursion. “What if we find something new here?”

“New?” He scoffs. “We might as well become archeologists, there’s certainly nothing new in here.” The basement demon screeches. “Maybe the evil below is new, though. Want to go there?”

“Absolutely no.” A pause. “No, actually…”

“We are not going to the basement.”

“Hey, we’re the Neo Vita!” He said as if it explained everything, and, in some ways, it did. “And that is just a loud broken pipe or something!”

Scar was right about them being the Neo Vita. The elite of the Galactic Alliance, the most capable pilots in the fleet, the ones to call in case of emergency, such as menacing ships in your area, and every single positive adjective one could think of… He was proud of his position within the squad, and his life was never the same since he joined them.

But also, how could he possibly say that noise was a broken pipe?

“Not even you believe that.” Joel accuses. “Just say you’re curious.”

“And just because you want me to say it, I won’t.”

“Unbelievable.”

A crack on the ceiling is heard, but it’s a different kind of noise. Instead of the piercing sound produced by the wind raging against the surface of broken things, it was similar to the crack that they, with their special boots, made while walking. Joel stops in the hallway, and raises a hand to alert Scar. The elf quietly nods, and starts to look around as well. His hands are on his holster, the laser gun inside set to stun; he wasn’t planning on using it, but he never knows. They’re silent, and the ship, in its own peculiar way, is too. Some seconds pass before they decide that it might have been a false alarm.

“I swear I heard a–” Joel starts, but is rudely interrupted by something blowing up on his neck.

He lets out a gasp, and pulls his gun out of the holster. The pilots looked around, for any sign of movement, but no one besides them seemed to be in the hallway. His breathing is irregular, his heart wants to beat out of the chest. He feels the adrenalin in his veins, and wants to nervously laugh.

“What the heck…” Scar whispers, looking down for a moment. The thing that had hit Joel was lying on the ground, waiting to be picked up. Goodtime doesn’t do it, though, and uses his boots to move it. The thing explodes again, lightly, and he jumps away. “What is that!?”

“How would I know!?” Joel exclaims, gun back on his waist, hands in the air. “It didn’t hurt me, it was just noisy.” They look around the hallway again. The only thing they hear is the basement demon; no cracks, no other surprises. “Still want to keep going?”

“Think positively, once we find out what’s going on in this museum, we can go home.”

Home. He looks through a window trying to locate it, but it’s in vain. His home was so far away that the star it orbited couldn’t even be observed from there.

Taking a step in false was a mistake he wasn’t planning on committing ever again. But the flap of his wings would be a louder sound, so weighing the two options, Grian concluded that he was stupid for coming this close to the pilots. Using a little bomb was a diversion big enough to escape, but his plan to ambush them in the hallway had now failed. “Plan B it is” , he thinks, slowly walking away towards the next crosswalk.

He brought with him to the ceiling a bag full of trinkets that he thought might be useful. Most of them were toys, bought all around the galaxy every time the Evolution parked on a spaceport. Secretly, he couldn’t wait until the Central Station finished being constructed; what souvenir shops it would host? Grian was excited. The perspective of living through one more day to see what changed in his absence was certainly the only thing moving him forward.

Arriving at an intersection, he laid out on the floor what else he could use. The bombs again would be too obvious, and using the same trick twice was boring. He had marbles, some action figures, bottles with colorful sand… Grian picks the marbles; an old but efficient trick. It surely would slow them down enough, and he could finally go after his swords (stashing them away on the ceiling of the captain’s bridge wasn’t a good idea, but back then he was sad and lonely, and his swords reminded him of failed plans and attempts that were better off forgotten forever). He hears the creaks on the floor, a sign of the pilots approaching, he has to be quick.

The trap is simple, any five years old in Helianthia knows of it. Make a bag of marbles, tie to a string, make it rain from the ceiling with a simple pull of the string. It wouldn't harm them of course, he's not evil like the Wither in the basement; he saw the helmet the pilots are wearing, and he played this same trick on Taurtis once. But he would have fun and would scare those meddling men away.

It is all done in less than a minute, a personal record. Grian hides away on the other side of the crosswalk and patiently waits.

They arrive at a crosswalk after some walking time, and Scar asks, “Left or right?”

“What if we split?” Joel suggests, as the thing in the basement made some noise. “It will be a faster way to see everything and then leave.”

He had watched too many movies in his lifetime to know that splitting the group in horror settings was never a decent idea. “Okay, good,” the elf raises an eyebrow, “But what if we don't do that?”

His partner sighs, leaning on the hallway wall, looking to both sides. Scar didn't want to do that any more than he did, but, as they both said it before, it was their job. From rescuing species near extinction, to exploring apparently haunted spaceships, they do it all, and they do it well. Besides, and though he wouldn't say it out loud, he was so scared of that thing in the basement, so splitting up was a decisive no.

Since Joel didn't decide upon a direction, he ends up choosing it himself. Taking in consideration that, according to his excellent sense of direction and what Joel said earlier, they've been walking from east to west since the beginning. Left would be the way to the north of the ship, and hopefully the right path to the command bridge.

He only takes two steps before Joel sprints to his side.

“Wait, wait, wait!” The pilot intervenes between him and the left hallway.

Joel extends his hand and catches something that Scar definitely did not see before. A little string, tied to both sides of the hallway and to the ceiling, almost invisible to the eye. The Red Wolf pulls the string and somehow, the ceiling opens, letting two to three dozens of colorful marbles fall.

“Oh my gods, that was so close!” He takes a step forwards, his boot right on top of the marbles. The next thing Scar sees is the ceiling, as he slips and goes straight to the ground. Joel, breaking his serious expression, doesn't even try to disguise his loud laugh. “Don't tell anyone.”

He nods, still cackling; at least he assists Scar in the task of getting up. The dark jacket he's wearing, along with heavy boots and pants, protected him from the impact, but Goodtime is very sure that there will be red marks on his back some time soon.

“Who do you think made this?”

Scar shrugs. “I have no idea, but now I'm curious.” He is genuine, although speaking with a monotone voice. “I'm also angry, and I want to hit them with every single one of these marbles.”

“That would be fun.” ( “And when isn't revenge fun?” , Scar could hear anyone from the Squadron asking.) “Let's keep going.”

Before they go, Joel raises three fingers and taps his ear with them. It was the team's signal for “I have a plan”. About time, Scar thinks and nods, following him down the left hallway.

The trap worked for its main purpose, slowing the duo down, but seeing the elf slipping and falling was probably the biggest reward of the whole plan. Grian had to try so hard to hold back a laugh that at some point he started crying. That was a task harder than trying to face the Wither, in his humble opinion.

Fine, he might have misjudged them. The pilots seem to be ordinary people, with tendencies to think about revenge and question what was happening in the basement. They were just like him: normal (at some level) and confused. Ahead of them on the ceiling path, Grian thinks about going down and saying hello, however the uncertainty of how they would react makes him hesitate.

So he keeps crawling on the ceiling, focusing on his goal and trying to not be bothered by his wings being closed for so long in a claustrophobic space.

Minutes later, unsure of how he hasn't gone deaf due to the screams of the Wither, some other sound catches his attention. ( “How did you pass your tests in the past with this attention span?” , someone asked before, and he never knew the answer.) Going after it meant that he would miss the pilots of sight, but not going… What if it was other intruders? He wasn’t throwing a party, those two were too much trouble already.

Grian makes the decision to turn around and check it out, and prays to all the gods in the Void that it wasn’t another monster on his ship. Turning to his left, he follows the noise, growing as he gets closer. Then, the reveal: to a mix of disappointment and relief, it was the pilot number two’s cat, playing with a random sphere. He sighs, and turns back to his quest.

The captain’s bridge was getting closer, but, as predicted, he lost sight of the pilots. They couldn’t be far, the ship was big, but there was only one way to the bridge. He keeps crawling his way in the small ceiling space, not even daring to make a sound. Grian could see it already, the bridge in all its glory, the giant window to the space full of stars and planets and wonders he misses so much, and of course his swords, that he never should have stashed away…

Lost in the daydream, he doesn’t see the straight lines in front of him until it’s too late. With his entire body, Grian feels his weight pushing down that perfect cut on the floor, bringing him down with it. The “blam!” on the floor makes his wings and legs ache, and, confused, he doesn’t even process what had just occurred.

The two pilots, wearing stupid grins on their faces, approach. (Years lost in the literal Void, learning survival skills to save his life from perishing in the hostile environment, and that’s how he’s caught. If his colleagues were there, they would all laugh at him.) Grian doesn't have time to react, before the elf pulls his stun gun and shoots him unconscious.

Chapter Text

He dreams with the beginning of it all.

Playing god in the territory of deities was a stupid idea, but what wasn't the Evolution, if not a team of adventures meddling with the unknown? They knew better than to do it. They did it anyway.

Assembling a Wither wasn't the original plan for the mission. They were assigned with finding one of the closest Cities in the End and establishing contact with them, to provide extra aid in whatever future diplomatic missions the Galactic Alliance planned; however they were greedy. The Void was the perfect place to experiment with one of the deadliest creatures in the galaxy. If it went loose, it would be gone forever, and no one would be harmed in the process.

How naive of them. The firsts to go were the scientists. Afflicted with the instant damage caused by the Wither, the rest of the crew could only watch while those doctors and masters struggled in pain. They withered away, in screams and tears, right before their eyes, never to be seen again.

The great Evolution wasn't prepared for war. It was a ship assembled for scientific and diplomatic  purposes from the very beginning. Their weapons were merely for intimidation, the damage it could actually make to a military ship was laughable. “We always pray for peace here”, was a common joke in the corridors.

The captain hated violence, and yet here they were. There were some warriors among them, all of them were fools, but were more than brave enough to fight. “The top of the Alliance”, or whatever they claimed themselves to be. (Truth is they were only assigned to that mission by pure luck; something about a security quota to be filled.) He saw as one by one, they entered the laboratories below and fought like gods to save them. He saw his best friend among them, weapons in hands, confident smile on his face, fighting like it was the end of the world (and it sure felt like it).

One by one, they withered away. He saw all of them withering away. The demon never rested. The Wither won. He was the last one standing. Until he wasn't anymore. Until he was again.

They tie the unconscious body of the winged man to the chair that apparently belonged to a communication’s officer. Scar firmly believes that is not a good way to start a conversation with the ship’s resident, but Joel is cautious and doesn't want to take risks. Fair enough, the guy had hit them with marbles less than twenty minutes earlier.

Going up the stairs to the main bridge, Hawkeye takes time to sulk in the ambience he hadn't paid attention to while dragging the guy's body across it. Just like the rest of the ship, the captain's bridge is old and lacking the equipment of the modern ships he is so used to, but by the gods, he is loving every detail. From the enormous front window, to the leather chairs… Scar could and would kill for the chance to be the captain of this beauty.

“Do you think this guy is the demon?” Joel's voice takes him out of his thoughts. The Red Wolf himself is distracted with his communicator, and by the faces he's making, Scar assumes that the device isn't working as his partner wants it to.

“I don't think so, look at him.” He does. The guy may not really look like a demon (that was still somewhere out there making unholy sounds), but looks like has been fighting one for days. His red shirt has burn marks, his hair has too many white streaks for a seemingly young person, his body has scratches all over it and his wings, already dark and bat-like, have certainly seen better days. “But why was he attacking us?”

“There's only one way to know…”

Joel's method to wake up stunned individuals is always funny to watch. Not for the stunned ones, of course, but Scar finds it entertaining. What happens is essentially a pinch in the back of the neck, that Joel always uses too many words to explain, capable of taking them from a state of “sleep”  to a “definitely awake” position. He did it to him only once, when he was accidentally hit by B-00, and it was… An experience.

When Red Wolf does it to the red shirt guy, it is a sight. The guy finds strength to throw his head from forward and back, hitting Joel's nose bridge in the process. A laugh escapes from Hawkeye's throat, thus making him be noticed; the guy uses his wings to push him off the edge of the main bridge. Falling for the second time, it was probably a record.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy asks.

“First of all, language .” Holding his red nose, Joel groans. “Second, who are you?”

“I asked first.” With a smug look, the red shirt man lifts his eyebrow.

“And I asked second, and I am not the one that is tied to a chair, and you're the one invading private territory.” The smugness turns into confusion.

“Since when space is someone's private territory?”

“Since the L'Manburg Treaty.”

“The what now?”

The guy asks with so much ignorance in his voice that Scar doesn't even consider that he's lying. Everybody knows the L'Manburg Treaty, how the destruction of the moon resulted in a series of laws that allowed planets to decide how their territory would be demarcated, including in space. If he did not know that, plus the vintage ship they stood on… There was so much to unpack.

His mind is still working at light speed when he stops Joel from saying something else, and takes the lead on the interrogation.

“I'm Captain Goodtime, that's Captain Smallishbeans. We're from the Neo Vita Squadron.” He repeats what he said on the radio before, slowly to make sure that every word is heard. “Who are you and what is this ship?”

There's a brief silence before the guy says something. “I'm Lieutenant Grian II, from the HSV Evolution.”

He – Grian – says, and there's a moment before the names sink in. Then, both of the pilots exclaims at once “The EVO?”

“The legendary Evolution? The one that crossed the literal Void for months and always returned until it didn't? The same Evolution that was the base ship to every single ship on the Galactic Alliance fleet today?” Joel's words trip on themselves, and Grian is too stunned to say a word. “How is this the EVO? It's a seventy year old story for young cadets!”

“Seventy?” Is the only thing Grian asks.

“The EVO was last seen in the year 2203.” Scar offers the explanation.

“And we're in…”

“2273.” He wants to say “welcome to the future”, but the time is not right for it. “It's October in Helianthia.”

Grian stays oddly calm after it. He doesn't look angry, or upset. Only calm, tranquil even. As he did not pose as a threat anymore, Joel is quick to leave the place he was accommodated to take care of his nose and untie him from the chair. He doesn't rise up from the seat, though, and stays there, absorbing the information. Besides the occasional screeches from the ship's demon, it turns into a moment of silence, and a deeply uncomfortable one.

“So it's true, then?” Scar's voice breaks the quiet, drawing attention to him. “Time does work differently in the Void.”

“I guess so.” Grian shrugs, folding his bat wings behind his back. “When we left, it was January back home, and the estimated month of return was July.”

“And what happened?” Joel asks, loudly, so it could be heard beyond the noise in the basement. Grian snorts, but he's not smiling.

“The stupid Wither slowed us down.” He takes a defeated posture afterwards, and sighs. It clearly isn't easy for him to tell the details, but he keeps going as simply as possible: “We spent what felt like an eternity trying to contain it, to kill the damn thing, but…”

“I thought Withers were a myth, I’ve seen them in books in Rivendell.” Scar says, as if they weren't literally standing inside a historical spaceship.

“They aren't in the Void.”

For a while after that, the three pilots absorb the silence that formed. Scar takes the time to assemble the pieces of that time and space puzzle in his mind, but doesn't go much further than to think “this is insane” and “this is so cool”. Joel and Grian resume their conversation, something about the ship and how it returned to their normal universe, but, wondering where Jellie was, his mind doesn't focus on the talk in the background.

Scar isn't worried about her though. The size shifting cat has seen a lot and a bit more in her lifetime, a decaying spaceship was just another memory to add to the scrapbook he made for her. And he's thinking about what color of washi tape he could add to the polaroid he's planning to take when they call to get his attention. Yes, right. First, dealing with the situation. Then, the scrapbook.

They're back on their ships after five minutes of awkward silence. What Joel really wanted was to point at random equipment and ask how it worked, and gods know how much he wanted to know more about the Evolution's adventures in the Void… But Grian became a man of a few words after their small chat, and he doesn't want to push it. (Besides, out of the roof, he pulled out two swords. Who, in the light-year of 2273, used literal swords?)

The sight of the Red Wolf was a beautiful view, and he rushed towards it without hesitation. The shining painting, the modern aerodynamic… He missed it so much. Joel is aware that he might be looking pathetic, hugging his spaceship like it's a long-lost child, but he's long past the point of caring about that.

Scar catches up with him after a moment, Grian following close by. While the elf had his eyes open, surely looking for Jellie's whereabouts, the winged man seemed… lost. Joel doesn't know if it was worse than when he was annoyed by their questions or annoying them with marbles falling from the ceiling. If the one guy that knew how to handle the ship's demon was lost, he wasn't sure if they should proceed with their half-baked ideas.

He is about to ask "what's the matter" when Scar claps his hands. “My theory is that the ship was being protected in this space-time-bubble-thing that did puff on the way back to our universe.”

“Somehow, I get it.” Joel nods, and looks back to their temporary partner. “What do you think, Grian?” There was no response. “Hello? Pilot man?”

Snapping out of his trance, he shakes his head and turns to the duo. “Ah, yes, yes, I agree with the… bubble-thing.” Grian gives a faint smile and flies away to another platform, leaving them alone for a while.

There's something wrong, Joel thinks.

“There's something wrong.” Joel says.

“Something has been wrong since we flew inside this ship.” Scar is dismissive, walking towards the Hawkeye.

“No, with him.” He points towards Grian, above them, who had his eyes fixed on a screen (an old model of a captain's tab, he figures) on the wall like it was the only thing in the room.

“I think he's having a normal reaction to getting tossed to the future after spending a lifetime in the Great Nothing.”

Point taken. Maybe the Colonel was right from the beginning and this mission had to be done as a duo; that was a much better explanation than the ones he was starting to come up with (a scheme was in the works, that man was about to betray them, etcetera). If he ever went back in time, he would make sure to kick himself for thinking that he would be better off solo.

He never went to the Void in his life, but he heard stories about it. The gods that lived in cities in the End of Everything, creatures that killed whoever dared to look at them, and of course, his favorite, dragons. Sounded too magical to be true, and a place that he would die to visit one day, but if Grian came back from it so changed… Joel started to question if it was worth the visit.

When the pilot of the Evolution returned, Joel tried asking: “Hey G. We are quite powerful and strong, you know? You can sit out of this ship exorcism if you want.”

The response is a cold look, sharper than the sword he is holding. “That thing took the lives of my crew. I am going to stab its heart even if it's the last thing I do.”

There's a silence until Scar breaks it. “Okay, that wasn't too ominous.”

There's a desk in the old captain's office; it's covered in dust, but the delicate carvings on the sides still stand untouched. Grian remembers inquiring the captain about them, way before everything went wrong, and she said it was a family heirloom that no one wanted, so it found its way into her office.

He hadn’t returned to the room since the return of the ship, and wasn’t planning on doing it at all, but the trio needed a place to plan the attack, and the desk was perfect to lay down their equipment and tabs. Although he was pretty confident with managing his swords, and recalls being skilled enough to do some damage, Grian had to admit that the pilots’ weapons were really impressive. Before his journey started, laser guns were only a figment of scientists’ imagination; now they had three of them. He wonders if it would be enough, though.

Joel turns on his tab and a hologram appears. Grian does his best to keep breathing normally when the projected little blue Wither jumps towards his face. “So, what do we know about the Wither?”

Scar grins like he’s been waiting since forever to “infodump” on them. “One of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy, native to the Nether dimension, and rumored to be a myth.” He opens his own tab to show them a picture of an old book, in a language that Grian’s clouded mind doesn’t recognize. “In the stories I've read before, it had a star in its heart that granted the crafter lots of powers like strength and health. Grian, what are our attack strategies?”

There’s no strategy that can save us, he thinks, and freezes. They can attack with fire or blades or freaking lasers, but it wouldn't be enough, it would never be enough. He sits on the captain’s chair, the same captain that withered away, and thinks it’s going to happen with him too – again. All his efforts to appear normal are thrown away. He wants to kill the Wither, it’s his only mission in this damned ship, but how can he possibly do it if he can’t even think of the monster without losing his breath?

“Grian?” Behind the noises inside his head, he listens to the call. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” He lies, poorly, with his knuckles on the table and head in hands.

“We understand that it can be hard for you. That's why we told you that you can stay out of this–” Joel tries to reason, only to be interrupted.

“No, no, no, I can't! I can't stay out!” He might be panicking, but his voice doesn’t crack. Grian has no idea what’s fueling him; desperation, most likely. “I have a duty to fulfill, I have to destroy that thing!” And I don’t know why, he wants to add, but the words never come out.

Scar sighs, and sets himself in front of him with a serious face. “In this mind state, all you're going to do is get a bruise or worse!” His voice tone is low, but threatening regardless. “Trust me, I've been through a lot in life, we both have. We're sorry for your losses,  but we need you to be sure that you can fight that demon without risking yourself, or us, in the process of getting your revenge.” And the elf changes his expression, back to friendly, absolutely throwing him off. “Can you do that? Be chill for two hours?”

He is many things, and chill isn’t one of them. But all eyes were on him, eager for a positive answer. "I can do it.” He says, hoping to convince himself too.

“Amazing.” Scar smiles, victorious, and Joel places the tab in front of him. The little Wither stands there, floating, taunting him. “Now, how do we fight this thing?”

Chapter Text

Grian looks at Joel, who looks at Scar, who looks worried.

There’s uneasiness in the air, so thick they could almost touch it. There they were, in the final stand. And this was supposed to be a simple investigation mission. Goodtime wonders if the squadron would have to send another team to investigate what happened to them if something went wrong… No, none of that, not when they’re so close to put an end to those screeches. He shakes his head, and changes his pistols to a deadlier setting.

“All right, let’s review.” Joel taking the lead, his hands behind his back to hide the sweat on the palms. “First, ranged attack. We use our blasters, Grian uses his equipment from a history fair.”

“It’s a crossbow with explosive ammo, and they’re cool looking.” Annoyance drips through his voice, and Joel doesn’t even try to mask his grin.

“Then, after the second explosion, we use our melee weapons.” He points to his sword on his holster, prompting the other two pilots to do the same with their own. While Grian’s were more delicate and of a metal none of them recognized, the N.V.S. pilots owned metal hilts that prompted laser blades to appear on command. (Scar bet that the vintage sword would be the one to do the most damage in the end; Joel, with nothing better to do, took it.)

“Remember to be careful with its ranged attacks.” It’s the third time that the advice is given. “If you see it charging, change your position quickly.” Grian breathes, his voice still not breaking despite the nervousness. “Are we ready?”

Joel looks at Scar, who looks at Grian, who looks on the edge.

“Sure.” Joel loads his blaster. “Let’s kill a fucking demon.” And under his breath, he whispers: “May this life not be our last.”

The bulkhead door is sealed with a key and a code. Grian, ahead of the trio, holds a small trinket (a little snowflake keychain, blue and exquisite) in front of the scanner that accepts it as a key (the others had questions, but this wasn’t the time nor place). For the code, four numbers typed quickly, in no distinguishable order. Everything is accepted, and they’re allowed to open the door. Although it was once a sliding door like the others around the ship, this one was stuck, making screeching noises when moved. Scar uses his blaster on the bottom of it, and it works; the door slides to the left, and the entryway is clear.

One by one, they step inside, but Grian stops abruptly. The pilots look at him, confused, and without saying a word, he points to the ground. Roses, of all sizes blooming, so devoid of color it felt like they were sucking the other colors from their surroundings. With gestures, Grian instructed the team to avoid stepping on them; he had a feeling it wasn’t only the colors those flowers were capable of harming.

They crossed the field of dark flowers all the way to the end of the small hallway. Between them and the Wither rested a simple sliding door made of reinforced glass. They looked at each other one more time. Together, they opened the door.

The sound of it sliding automatically caught the attention of the Wither. The slow turnaround, the noise it makes when it breathes, and the three heads of the beast make a scream that pierces their ears like a drill… A nightmare, in bones and energy, right in front of the trio. They wanted to run; but even more than that, they wanted to destroy it.

“What are we waiting for?” Grian screams, loading his crossbow. “Shoot the bastard!”

His first shot hits the head in the middle, and the explosion of color makes them alert. The attacks begin, with the blasters in maximum capacity, all aiming for the body or the heads. It’s a loud and awful clash of noises, but it seems to be working: the Wither stops focusing on defending itself and tries to attack with anything it has. The heads-up in the beginning of the plan proves its value when they are able to predict the direction of ranged attacks and move positions to avoid them.

The trio make their best effort to be agile, and they work together like a well oiled machine. Joel stays in front, his blaster being the one with the fastest reloading time, and he attracts most of the Wither’s focus to himself (the only kind of attention he doesn’t appreciate). Scar is in the back, his precise blaster landing critical hits almost every time, making the whole process easier, if that could even be said. Grian, with his surprisingly accurate crossbow, is the best of both tactics, and flies around the room hitting with everything he can without being shot.

He’s the one to notice when the monster turns, from its distinct dark colors, into a shade of blue he has seen before in nightmares. There’s no time to warn the others, and his only reaction is to throw Joel to the ground and hope that Scar is far away from the range. An explosion hits the reinforced walls behind them, and the noise it makes indicates that even more explosions are on the way.

“Sword time?” Behind the sounds, Scar yells. At the same time, the other two agree.

When Joel ignites his laser sword, glowing green and vibrating with potential, he spares a second to remember how they were merely for ceremonial purposes. As he swings it and lands hits through the Wither’ skeleton, he wonders if it would be better to get another sword later, potentially a bigger one. He stops thinking about it when he’s almost hit by one of the explosions.

Scar comes closer with his red sword, and with his elvish grace blocks the ranged hits and moves around to confuse the Wither even more. He’s not used to adversaries twice his size, but attacks anyway, using everything he learned in the past to make the most use of his weapon. (He wishes Jellie was there with them, though. Her claws would hopefully do more damage than he’s currently doing.)

With two swords, it’s no doubt that Grian does the most damage. Although physically weaker than the other two, and rusty with his wielding, he’s aggressive in every move, focusing on the torso and getting dangerously close to the target. “Hit it, hit it, hit it”, some voice chants in his heart, and he does it. Metal in bones, scream matching scream… He doesn’t even see the explosion forming right in front of him.

They get thrown to the back of the laboratory, the impact of the blast making the walls shake. The sound of the Wither is substituted by a constant buzz in their ears, along with the feeling of something crawling up their skin leaving a burning sensation, but that’s the least of their worries with the foreseeable broken bones and miscellaneous internal problems.

The voice returns to taunt Grian. “End it”, it whispers, “before it’s too late again.”

By his side, Joel thinks of home, and prays that he sees it again. On the other side, Scar thinks about the pain that comes from the burning. He thinks of his companions, old and new. Grian picks his swords up from the ground, and rises up. Through the sound of ear buzzing, an explosion, and concerned screams of his friends, he waves goodbye.

There’s a star on the ground. Right next to it, a rose. Neither of the pilots pick them up.

They sit among shattered glass and broken wood. The star still there, shining bright, contrasting the dark vibe that the rose expels. It's a very annoying position to both, but the pilots can't bring themselves to leave the laboratory. The place is a mess, and so are they. Joel keeps trying to process what had just happened, but he keeps going back to what's and how's, never really assembling his thoughts correctly. Maybe it's for the best, and he can deal with it in therapy later on.

Before he tries again with coherent thoughts, Scar states, deadpan: “We didn't finish the mission.”

He looks at Hawkeye with a confused expression. “A man just died.”

“I know, and with him dead, we'll never fully understand this ship.” It makes sense, but Joel isn't sure if that's how he wants to process the events. “We failed.”

He knows where that apparent apathetic feeling comes from. Scar, very much unlike him, knows what real loss is. Rivendell, his beloved home planet, was dead and gone, with its core colder than snow. Everyone remembers it fondly, for its history and contributions to the galaxy, but losing his home had a consequence in the elf's moral compass. Joel would never judge his sayings; instead, he just nods.

Scar stands up after what felt like hours of gazing at nothingness. “Let's go.” He verbalizes, in a low but confident tone. Approaching the ignored star and rose, he picks them both up and continues: “We might not have him anymore, but we have these.”

Pushing himself back up, Joel stands and goes to his side. “A cautionary tale, you mean?”

“Something like it, yes.”

<I see the fighter you mentioned.>

<The Decayed? Is he back already?>

“Am I back? It all happened so fast, I-”

<Easy, fighter. You just won a combat.
You saved your precious galaxy,
and You may rest now.>

“No. I don't want to rest.”

<And what else is your desire, Decayed? You asked to
save your world from evil, and we gave it to You.
Do not be greedy. Accept rest as your reward.>

“But I don't want to rest ! I want- I want-”

<What do You want, Decayed?”>

“I don't want to be called the Decayed ,
my Lady. I want to live again, please.”

<Why would you grant this wish to
You, and not to others?>

“Because… because… I… I don't know, but I really want it!
I want to fly again! I want to see my planet!
They have laser swords now, I really want one!
Please, my Lords, I beg you. I want- I need to live again.”

<You want a third life, to do what You
didn't in the other ones?>

<One last life, to live to the fullest, knowing
what's waiting for You beyond the End?>

<Are you aware of the dangers waiting
for You in the world of the living?> 

<Will You remember that the
Universe will be by Your side?>

“Yes.”

<Very well. Grian, the third,
once Decayed, now Restored.>

<The Universe is with You,
and You are loved.>

“Thank you, my Lady, my Lord. I won't let you down.”

<You better not.>

Flowers aren't supposed to hurt. They're meant to brighten up places and bring happiness to those that admire them. However, Scar looks at the roses on the ground, making the hallway look like a garden of despair, and can't help but feel helpless. The books written in ancient Elvish describe them as “flowers created from the soul of the fallen” and if that's to be believed… There's too many roses in there, and it hurts to think about.

“Be careful to not step on them.” The approximately eleventh reminder of the day comes, and he just nods. They cross the hallway without a sweat, open the now unlocked door, and leave the dreadful place.

“How long have we been here?” Scar questions when a sudden curiosity hits.

“I don't know.” Joel shrugs. As he doesn't have free hands, Scar is the one to reach his communicator to check. “I bet eight hours.”

“It's been five.” He whistles. “I feel like it's been a hundred.”

“We're efficient, I suppose. But again, a man–” Red Wolf's remarks are interrupted by an “ouch!” , that prompts him to drop the flower on the ground. “Bloody hell– That thing just bit me!”

“Flowers don't bite.” Joel opens his mouth to say something in response, but his jaw drops when something catches his attention. “What?”

Scar turns around to see the issue, and sees himself with his jaw also on the floor. Where the flower with Grian's soul fell, the winged man himself now stood. Same blonde hair, same red shirt, but with a less distressed appearance, it is him, right in front of them. He has been through a lot; resurrection wasn't in his curriculum.

“I am never dying again.” Grian groans. Scar wonders if it would be weird to give him a hug.

Jellie finds them later, on the platform that serves as landing area. The trio sits on the floor, no longer with oxygen masks, and drink a seventy years old bottle of fruit wine out of plastic cups, both found in the ship's pantry. Through the open bay door, there's the beautiful sight of Grimmlands below them. Her tutor's friend is talking to a man she doesn't recognize, and her tutor himself is distracted with his little buzz device.

She approaches the trio, lazily, and shifts to a smaller size. There's no resistance from Goodtime when she asks for space on his lap, and Jellie makes it her personal bed for the time being. 

“Hey, the signal is back!” Her tutor says, cheerfully, but not too loud, as to not disturb her. The tone changes into a sad one a second later. “Ah, fuck.” Scar's friends turn their attention to him as he reads what's on his buzzing device:

<mlittlewood> Team, what's your status?

<mlittlewood> Captain, what is your situation?

<mlittlewood> We were informed that the spaceship was still on Grimmlands territory.

<mlittlewood> Captain Goodtime, report.

<mlittlewood> We expect a good explanation for your lack of response.

While Goodtime remains calm about the texts, his new friend starts to laugh. Jellie still has no opinion about him, but the fact that he's mocking her tutor isn't a good headstart for him. She proceeds to watch him very carefully to see if he poses any threat.

“Someone is in trouble…” The bird man says, and her tutor's friend pushes his shoulder. Good, she would do it herself if she had humanoid arms.

“If we're in trouble, it is your fault!” Beans says, and she meows in agreement, although she doesn't know what he's referring to. “This is your ship!”

The bird man rolls his eyes. “That's ridiculous, I am not going to get yelled at by your boss.”

“The Evolution is part of the Galactic Alliance, he's your boss too.” Goodtime joins the discussion; Jellie remembers her tutor's boss man very fondly, he gives her treats every time they meet.

She gets lost in a sea of sounds when the trio starts discussing something she's not interested in. At least it isn't the horrible sounds she's heard since they got to the ship; Jellie can't wait to leave and go home, she misses her toys very much. They stop chatting after a moment, and return to their drinks and laughs.

It looks like they're not going to move for a while, despite the texts from her tutor's boss man. So she stands up, and decides to do a test. Whoever that new friend of Goodtime and Beans was, she needs to know him better. He just got to the group and wants to be their best friend, with a hopeful smile and eyes full of stars? That's not how it works.

Slowly, Jellie moves towards the bird man, and meows until he makes a space for her to lay down. “Hey, girl” , he whispers, surprise in his voice. All right, he could stay with them. For now.