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Jimin was just minding his own business, honestly. He was good at that.
A bright smile to a tired and dusty patron, a wink promising something he would never deliver to the handsy Tarithian at the very end, a small pat to the back of the woman who ordered the same thing every night.
Jimin was a master at pretending to care and still keeping to himself, not connecting with anyone. It was how he’d survived so long on this desolate outpost, hadn’t been murdered or robbed or poisoned or maimed like some of the others who’d worked at the saloon in the time he’d been there.
He was on good, distant terms with the townspeople, and he never had to worry about one of them slitting his throat like he’d seen happen to refuelers who tried to skimp on their payments. No, Jimin was just a semi-robotic saloon boy with a positive attitude, and he had nothing to do with the violence and mayhem.
He could vaguely remember having a family, once. Blurred flashes of stars and an ocean and someone holding his hand. The smell of smoke and the sting of fire as a ship burned. But that was then, and this was now.
The outpost wasn’t actually the worst place ever, if he was honest with himself. Mu 75 was an arid planet, but their little town was settled on one of its few freshwater lakes, and they protected it fiercely. He had food and a place to sleep, a charge port to keep his arm and head in working condition, and…well, that was it. It was all he needed to survive. It was probably selfish to want more than that, when everyone was struggling and had so little already.
Jimin was whatever he needed to be. Bartender, server, fuel broker, direction-giver, information seller. Sometimes he was a dancer, when the fueling ships brought new music with them from the large systems. Jimin would pay whatever they wanted to get his hands on it, and it was always fascinating to learn how fast music evolved on the larger worlds. No one on Mu 75 really had time for music.
Jimin lifted his head up with an automatic smile when the door swished open, dust gusting inside from the strong winds common to the outpost. His eyes widened a little at the six angry-looking men who stomped inside, but didn’t let the smile slip from his face. Travelers, obviously. Ones who weren’t having a good time. Well, it was to be expected on Mu 75.
“Good afternoon,” Jimin said, ducking his head in greeting and drawing their attention, and maybe some of their ire, to himself. “Can I help you with anything?” From their clothes and the advanced-looking tech of the weapons at their hips, Jimin was assuming they could pay. They had better.
“You don’t happen to have a carbon warp converter in those tight pants of yours, do you?” the shortest one drawled, heaving himself onto a bar stool and resting his elbows on the clean surface. At Jimin’s amused headshake, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“Oh, just relax,” one of the others said, dimples intensifying his grin. “Think of this as a vacation! A vacation! I, personally, could use a break from being on edge all the time.”
“You picked the wrong fucking line of work, Hoseok,” the man at the counter grumbled, eyes lazily scanning the saloon and its patrons before circling back to Jimin.
“Excuse me,” another of the men said, voice airy and proper, “but would you happen to have a menu?”
Jimin stared at him before jerking his thumb behind him to point at the large screen displaying everything the saloon had to offer in neon green lettering.
“Ah,” the man said awkwardly, ignoring the snickers of his crewmates. “Thank you.” His stomach rumbled audibly. “We’ll take…” he narrowed his eyes, reading the short list, “one of everything.”
Jimin smiled and nodded, turning around to input their order into the screen while five of them claimed a circular table, the sixth remaining at the bar.
“Yah,” the man said. “Pour me a shot of that Aranth fire brandy, would you?”
“Yoongi!” someone with a deep voice whined from the table. “I’m not taking care of you again if you pass out!”
“Shut up, Taehyung!” Yoongi grumbled, eyes hungry as Jimin slid a small glass in front of him, pouring him his drink. He threw it back immediately, sighing when it went down hot, steam hissing from his nostrils.
“Most people have the opposite reaction,” Jimin laughed. “They choke, you know, not expecting it. Despite the name.”
“Then maybe they shouldn’t fucking drink my brandy,” Yoongi said.
“Boy!” the Tarithian called, demanding his attention, and Jimin sighed, but put his smile back in place.
“Yes?” Jimin said sweetly, leaning against the countertop to accept the request.
“Fill her up,” he said gruffly, scratching at the stiff bristles of his yellow beard. He stared, unblinking, as Jimin moved to do as he asked, eyes lingering on places that Jimin assumed Tarithians found attractive. As to what was so special about his bony elbows, he had no idea.
“As you wish,” Jimin agreed, filling another glass of ale from the barrels under the bar. “Here you go!”
The Tarithian grumbled, cheeks flushing blue as he immediately put his face into his drink.
“Quite the charmer,” Yoongi said blithely, staring at his glass as though trying to restrain himself from ordering more.
“Who, me?” Jimin said innocently, fluttering his lashes. “I’m just making a living,” he hesitated, “…Yoongi.”
Yoongi looked up at him sharply.
Jimin turned when the compartment under the screen dinged, releasing the overwhelming scent of all the food the computer had built for the travelers. Jimin wasn’t allowed to eat from the computer until his work day was done, and so he often spent his energy enticing regulars to share their own food with him.
He stared at the amount in dismay, sighing and grabbing as many plates as he could handle, walking precariously over to the table. The men jumped on it immediately, like they were starving and hadn’t eaten for days. It took two more trips, but finally they had all of their food, not even looking up when Jimin added new plates to their table.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Jimin questioned Yoongi, who was still staring into the glass.
“I’m full,” Yoongi said mysteriously, picking up the glass and tossing it up and down in his thin, pale hand. “You know a safe place to sleep around here? Our ship’s in orbit and the transporter is too small to fit all of us until I can get the converter.”
“Shh,” Jimin said quickly, pressing a metal finger to Yoongi’ dry lips. “Never talk about where your things are or where you’re going to be vulnerable, you never know who’s listening.”
Yoongi slapped Jimin’s hand away but nodded, brow furrowing.
“Here,” Jimin said, pulling one of the many cards he kept on his person from his back pocket. “Go here, it’s least likely to get you killed. And go to Jackson for the converter, his is the shop with the red roof. He might charge an arm and a leg, but he’ll do the job right.”
“That’s comforting,” Yoongi said wryly, but accepted the card, slipping it somewhere into his coat. “Thanks…for the information.”
“It’s in my best interest that you come back and spend more,” Jimin smiled slyly, eyes scrunching into crescents. “Can’t leave me tips if you’re dead!” he said cheerily.
The door opened again, slamming this time, and Jimin couldn’t help but jump. Only one person ever opened the door that way. He swallowed. “Hi, Boss!”
“Crowded tonight,” the tall man said darkly, sliding behind the bar, sending goosebumps up Jimin’s spine.
“Y-yes,” Jimin muttered, watching nervously as the man stared at the credit counter behind the bar, next to the barrels. He didn’t have time to react before a hand was around his throat, crushing his windpipe and slamming him up against the menu screen, feet dangling in the air.
“Why is that number so low?” Boss asked calmly.
“Th-they haven’t p-paid yet,” Jimin wheezed, weakly pointing to the six at the table who had now stopped eating to stare at them in shock.
“What have I told you about this, Jisqet?” Boss said, squeezing even more tightly. “What have I told you a million fucking times?”
“P-pay first, eat later,” Jimin whimpered, vision spotting as tears sprang up in his eyes.
“Yah!” Yoongi growled, and something landed on the floor next to Boss’s feet, skidding across the smooth surface.
Boss looked at it absently, releasing Jimin’s throat, the small boy sinking to the floor as he struggled to breathe. “Take care of that,” he said, stepping over Jimin and walking to the set of stairs that peeked out from the back of the room.
Jimin nodded weakly, grabbing at Yoongi’s credit pass with trembling fingers and pressing it to the machine, watching in relief as the numbers jumped astronomically from the huge amount of food they had ordered. He sighed, rubbing at this throat, using the bar to leverage himself back to his feet.
“Sorry about that,” Jimin rasped.
“Are you alright?” the awkward man asked, staring at Jimin with wide eyes, and Jimin was surprised to see that their entire table had approached the bar.
“Huh?” Jimin asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Of course I am. Please, go back to eating!”
“Why would he do that?” another one of them asked, dark eyes narrowing and teeth gritting in anger. “Does that…is that normal?”
Jimin was still horribly confused. Normal? Of course it was. Those who worked for others on the outpost were equivalent to indentured servants and-- “Oh,” the realization hit him. They must have been from a system where things were different. There were a lot of variants, so Jimin had trouble keeping track of what was appropriate to what planet. “Yes, well, Mu 75,” he shrugged dismissively.
None of them moved to go back to their table.
“Can I…get you anything else?” Jimin asked, feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention.
“Your neck’s turning purple,” the man with the deepest voice said.
Self-consciously, Jimin raised a hand to rub at his sore skin with the cool metal of his fingertips, hiding the marks. “Sorry, is that…offensive on your planet?” Jimin asked carefully. “I can go grab a scarf, if—“
“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi said. “Go back and eat,” he directed the others.
“Yoongi—“ the earlier awkward man began.
“Just go eat, Jin,” Yoongi sighed. “We’re only here for a few days, at most.”
There must have been some message in his words that Jimin didn’t understand, because an expression flashed across Jin’s face that was chock full of despair. Still, he nodded, and pulled the others back to the table, where they slowly resumed their meal.
“Is there a charge port around here?” Yoongi asked.
Jimin tilted his head. “You mean, like…” he raised his metal arm, waggling his fingers.
Yoongi nodded, pushing back the collar of his stiff shirt to reveal metal plating starting at his clavicle.
“There are places around,” Jimin acknowledged, “but they’ll bleed you dry.” He hesitated, continuing, “If you come back after closing, you can use mine, if you want.” Really, what was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to get involved. But these visitors, of all the people to walk into his saloon, seemed the most harmless.
Yoongi quirked a blonde eyebrow. “Oh? Should you really be inviting strangers into your home?”
Jimin shrugged, pointing, “I live upstairs.”
Yoongi frowned, mouth in a stern line. “With that Grosth?”
“Oh, is that what he is?” Jimin said, surprised. “I’d always assumed he was from another Mu…No, he doesn’t live here, he just sleeps during the day. When he feels like it, I guess,” Jimin shrugged. “He owns this saloon, so he can do what he wants with it.”
“And with you?” Yoongi questioned softly.
Jimin smiled sadly. “It’s how things work around here.” He slid Yoongi’s credit pass across the counter.
“You know, I wouldn’t have even noticed if I left that here,” Yoongi shook his head, pocketing the metal device.
“Lucky I’m here looking out for you, then,” Jimin teased. “You wouldn’t last five minutes on this planet.”
“We’re done,” one of the men said, approaching the bar, glancing quickly at Jimin’s neck. It was the one who’d gotten angry on Jimin’s behalf earlier. “Should we look for a mechanic?”
Yoongi nodded, not turning to look at him. “Jungkook, what time do you have?”
“Alpha 13:20,” Jungkook replied. “Local? No idea.”
Yoongi sighed, hopping from the bar stool, cloak fluttering as it revealed the paired gun and blade at his hip. “Your name is Jisqet?” he questioned. “That’s what the Grosth—“
“No,” Jimin said quickly, voice hardening. “No, that’s…in the language of this planet, that means… ‘useless.’”
Yoongi’s eyes widened. “I apologize, I didn’t mean—“
“My name is Jimin,” Jimin smiled widely, “and I close at Alpha 20:00. I’ll be waiting.”
The stars on Mu 75 were gigantic to the naked eye. The planet was really an astronomical miracle, as it should have been thrown from its orbit by the competing gravitational forces of its two suns. But it kept spinning, kept orbiting, and it was one of the very few stations between the large central systems and the kingdoms of the outer rim.
Jimin had seen a lot of people come and go in his time on 75. Some he liked, some he didn’t, but they all had in common the simple fact that they never came back.
Yoongi and the man with the deep voice returned exactly at A20:00, just as Jimin was beginning to punch in the lock code on the door. They had changed their clothes from the beige cloaks and uniforms they had been wearing to simple pants and shirts the color of the night sky.
“You really came,” Jimin said, peering around to make sure the area was clear before ushering them inside.
“You invited me, didn’t you?” Yoongi pointed out, sharp eyes flicking to the new split in Jimin’s bottom lip.
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d listen!” Jimin said. “What if this was a trap, or something? And I stole all your stuff?”
“That’s what Namjoon’s for,” Yoongi jerked his thumb at the tall man he’d brought with him, who ducked his head briefly in greeting.
“You’re really not afraid of being ambushed?” Jimin asked incredulously. “Don’t you know anything about the Mu system?”
“I think we know enough,” Namjoon said, his own gaze falling to Jimin’s lip as well.
Jimin cleared his throat, cheeks staining red. “Well, it’s upstairs, like I said,” he muttered, leading them to the staircase.
“You do realize that we could be the ones trying to ambush you?” Yoongi pointed out.
“You wouldn’t do that,” Jimin grinned.
“You sound awfully confident,” Namjoon said, surprised.
Jimin shrugged. “I’m good at reading people, it’s kind of what I do. What I have to do,” he amended. “I know who to avoid, who to tease, who to…” he trailed off, thinking of the Alpha 5 captain who’d given him a really fun night and back pain for a week. “Anyway, all of you seemed…kind. And what could you possibly want from me?”
Jimin pushed open the door to his small room, feeling embarrassed at just how small it was when all three of them were standing in it, Namjoon’s head brushing the ceiling. “Umm, the charge port is right…there…” his voice quieted as he spotted the gun in Namjoon’s hand, removed from its holster. “What…?” he questioned, meeting Yoongi’s eyes, feeling betrayed.
“Jimin, we’re not going to hurt you,” Yoongi assured, holding out his hand in attempt to calm Jimin’s panicked breathing.
“You…” Jimin swallowed. “Man, and after all that bragging I did…”
“This isn’t for you, this is for Rignyc Patra, the Grosth who owns this place,” Namjoon said. “I’m keeping it out just in case.”
“Patra’s been on the run from Alpha Prime for decades,” Yoongi explained, gently leading Jimin to sit on his rickety bed. “We finally caught onto his trail when a bounty hunter submitted an inquiry after seeing him here on Mu 75. He stole something, something very important, and we need to get it back.”
“Al-alright,” Jimin nodded, calmer now that he realized that they really weren’t trying to hurt him. “What does it look like? If you tell me, I should know something. I know everything about this place.”
“You’d help us just like that?” Namjoon questioned.
“If you were me, would you have any loyalty to this place?” Jimin challenged. “And anyway, it’s not like I have anything better to do!” he grinned cheekily.
“…Alright,” Yoongi nodded. “Jimin, do you know what a diamond looks like?”
“A what?” Jimin said curiously.
“It’s like…it’s a rock, a stone, but clear like glass. They came from planet Earth, and there are only a few left in the next ten galaxies. This one is about the size of a…” he paused, trying to think of a comparison that Jimin would understand, “do you have grapes on this planet?”
Jimin shook his head no.
“Like this,” Namjoon said, pulling a little metal ball from his pocket and holding it out to Jimin in his open palm. “It should be something like this.”
Jimin frowned, thinking. “I think…I think I’ve seen something like that before,” he said carefully. “Boss wears this…chain…around his neck, and I think…there was something clear on it? But wait, you said he was on the run for decades? He only looks a few decades old, how can that be?”
“The diamond has a lot of power inside of it,” Yoongi said. “The power is…something that’s beyond human comprehension. It’s been passed down through the generations to each Alpha Protector since Alpha Prime was settled, and they used it to help safeguard every planet in the Alpha system. As long as we’ve had the diamond, no one dared to threaten war. But people…no one’s seen it in so long that there are rumblings, questions that we don’t want to have to answer.”
“Then how did Boss get it?” Jimin wondered, absently tapping a finger against the split skin of his mouth.
“He used to be in the Guard,” Yoongi said darkly. “No one knows how, but he somehow got his hands on it. He doesn’t have the ability to use it, obviously, or he’d be somewhere other than this dump—no offense.”
“None taken,” Jimin sighed, thinking.
“But he can clearly tap into its residual power,” Namjoon mused. “No normal person can lift someone into the air by the neck or look thirty when they’re pushing seventy. He has to have at least a small grasp of it.”
“Okay, but even if Boss has the diamond, then how are you going to take it?” Jimin asked.
They looked at each other, then at him.
“Right…” Jimin sighed. “But…” he frowned. “I have conditions.”
“Taehyung, what the fuck is that?” Yoongi scowled, kicking at the metal box wrapped in exposed wire.
“Yah!” Taehyung complained pushing Yoongi’s leg away. “That’s our backup plan, so you better not have damaged it!”
“Your ship is alright, isn’t it?” Jimin asked nervously. “You don’t really need a converter?”
“Our ship is fine,” Jin smiled gently. “We needed a loud excuse to land.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jungkook shook his head, eyeing Jimin derisively.
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” Jimin smiled wanly, eyes flitting nervously every time he heard a sound from below.
“Yah!” Hoseok gasped, voice panicked as he sprinted up the stairs. “He’s coming!”
“What?” Jimin cried. “No, he…he never comes in this early!”
“Well it’s his angry twin then, because he’s right outside!” Hoseok hissed.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said calmly. “Distract him, give us five minutes to get in position, and we’ll take care of it. Namjoon’s already in position behind the bar, he’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“I…” Jimin breathed, steeling himself. “Alright, but…” he met Yoongi’s eyes. “You have to keep your promise.”
Without another look or another word, Jimin sprinted down the steps.
He grabbed the ionic vac from the supply closet and began running it over the floor, vaporizing dirt particles in an effort to look busy. He still flinched when the door slammed open. “Hi, Boss!” Jimin called.
The man paused, nostrils flaring. “What on Mu is that smell?”
“Oh, there was a problem with the com,” Jimin said sheepishly. “I was going to work on it later, but—“ he squeaked as his shirt was grabbed, bunching together at his bruised throat. He knew that nothing set his Boss off more than saying he would do something later when it should have been done first.
“Then why the fuck have you not fixed it, Jisqet?” Boss hissed, shaking Jimin until his teeth rattled. “Why the fuck do I bother keeping you around at all?”
“Boss, please, I’m not good with that ancient thing!” Jimin whimpered, dizzy. “But I…I take care of this place, you know that!”
“Fucking Jisqet,” Boss muttered, throwing him into a table, his knees giving out as he crumpled to the floor. He turned away, taking a step towards the stairs.
“This saloon would be nothing without me!” Jimin shouted, immediately regretting it as Boss glanced over his shoulder, pure hatred in his deep blue eyes. “You don’t even do anything but sleep!”
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Boss growled, taking a threatening step back in Jimin’s direction. “I take you in, I feed you, I clothe you, and this is the thanks I get? A mongrel human thinks he can speak to me this way? After I kept this fucking Jisqet alive when it was abandoned in the desert? When no one wanted this ugly, pathetic, useless thing?”
“My name is Jimin!” Jimin grunted, pushing himself shakily to his feet with his flesh arm, frowning as his metal arm sparked, damaged and hanging. “And I’m not useless!”
A bright light flashed, blinding Jimin as he curled into himself in an attempt to protect his eyes from the stinging glow. “What is this?” he heard Boss scream, then sharp clicks and a few thuds.
He was brought to the floor again as something smashed into his chest, and he landed on his back, breathless. The light finally began to fade, but he still couldn’t see very well, his vision doubling from slamming his head against the floor.
“Oh, fuck,” Jimin heard over him, and then he was being hauled to his feet, staggering as he leaned his weight completely onto the body next to him.
“Is it…done?” Jimin asked blearily, blinking up at Yoongi’s fuzzy face.
“…You could say that,” Yoongi said, sighing and rubbing a hand over his pale forehead. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“What is it?” Jimin frowned.
Yoongi grasped Jimin’s flesh hand and brought it up to Jimin’s chest, resting it in the center, over the sternum, where something felt decidedly out of place. Jimin blinked down at his torso, eyes riveted to the small, half sphere of glass rock that was protruding from it. “Fuck,” Jimin agreed.
It didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt warm, a gentle wave pulsing over his heart.
Jimin smiled. “Now you definitely have to keep your promise.”
“I was going to anyway!” Yoongi huffed. “Shit, Jimin, you didn’t have to be so dramatic just to get to Alpha Prime.”
“Oh boy,” Namjoon said, approaching them with his gaze on Jimin’s chest. “It must have…it chose Jimin to carry it home.”
“That looks disgusting,” Jungkook grimaced. “Can I touch it?” he asked hopefully.
“We gotta’ leave!” Taehyung yelled from upstairs, Hoseok already sprinting down them. “Backup plan is happening whether we need it or not!”
“Shit,” Yoongi cursed, pulling Jimin and Namjoon outside by the arms as the rest of his team filtered from the saloon. “Tae, what’s the circumference?”
“Fuck if I know!” Taehyung yelled. “Just move!”
“What—“ Jimin began, but was cut off by the enormous explosion that took the saloon down from its foundations, the entire building collapsing in on itself as the small wired box drew everything into what looked like a miniature black hole.
“That was fucking overkill, Tae,” Hoseok complained, slapping the boy on the arm.
“Yoongi kicked it!” Taehyung protested.
Jimin chuckled, unable to do anything else as he watched his home for the past ten years turn to dust. It was bittersweet, but it also didn’t feel real, like this was all happening in a dream. The diamond pulsed in his chest, as though telling him everything would be alright.
“Is your arm badly damaged?” Yoongi questioned, noticing that Jimin had yet to move it. “I’ll take a look at it once we’re aboard my ship.”
“Your ship?” Jimin asked excitedly. “Are you Captain Yoongi?”
“Colonel Min Yoongi,” Yoongi answered smugly. “Of the airship Nabi. And I’m three-fourths metal myself, so I’ll see what I can do to fix you up.”
“Finally, I can go home!” Jin sighed. “What shall I eat first…?”
“Yoongi,” Jimin said softly, rubbing at the stone. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“Well, it’s likely that stone will jump from you back to the Protector. It should recognize that it’s home again, once we get back to Prime.”
“And then?” Jimin asked.
“And then,” Yoongi shrugged, “anything.”