Chapter Text
Houndor. 50 billion miles from home on Keleo. A planet so small, it barely shows up on a radar. A space junkyard for scavengers, wanderers, and nobodies. And it just so happens to be Geonhak’s luck that he crash-landed here.
Geonhak tosses the dead reactor core away with a sigh. No amount of work will ever fix it, so he needs to find a replacement if he ever wants to get his ship off the ground again. Out here, on the fringes of Houndorian society—if society is even the proper word for it—the rolling sand dunes are his only company. In the distance, a cluster of lights shimmer brightly, like a shower of stars rained down, the only sign of life for miles and miles.
As much of a pain it’s going to be to get back, it’ll be nothing in comparison to the mess that’s waiting for him. Something dark and festering burns deep in Geonhak’s chest. After too many failures, Geonhak’s mission was supposed to be the good news they’ve been looking for. He’s supposed to be flying back to Keleo by now, in triumphant victory, not stranded on the other side of the galaxy.
It doesn’t matter now. With every second, his team loses further hope in his survival, the enemy slips further out of their grasp, and his ship, the Aphelion, falls further into ruin.
Geonhak quickly gathers only what he needs—a small blaster tucked into his belt, his fake identification card shoved into his pocket, a small pin of star fastened onto the lapel of his long black jacket—and heads for the lights.
The marketplace is bustling with people. Geonhak wanders through the sea of heads, wrapped up in hoods and headscarves to protect themselves from the sun, and though he does a poor job of blending in, hardly anyone seems to bat an eye. A row of stalls line the street, in the shadows of brick houses, with vendors calling out in hopes of hooking the attention of passersby. Geonhak pauses by one, surveying the selection of strange, colorful produce, many of which he’s never seen before.
Beside him, a boy, barely up to Geonhak’s waist, reaches a small hand into one of the boxes and grab the closest item, a round piece of fruit with a blue, spiky shell. Geonhak watches the child scamper away, slipping the fruit into the flap of his vest and disappearing into the crowd.
“Hey!”
A hand roughly grabs at his collar, pulling him to meet the vendor’s eyes.
“Give that back, thief,” he snaps.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Geonhak says evenly.
“Are you calling me a liar?” his lip curls.
“Jonghyeon,” a voice speaks up. “He’s with me.”
The vendor’s eyes shift over to someone behind Geonhak, and Geonhak follows his line of sight to the man strolling up to them. His scarf obscures the bottom half of his face, only showing his dark eyes.
“Sorry for the trouble,” he says.
“You’re still going to have to pay for it,” Jonghyeon grumbles.
“I think I have something that’ll be worth it,” the man holds up a small glass flask filled with a glowing black liquid that shimmers under the harsh sunlight. Geonhak instantly recognizes it—moon essence, and his surprise mirrors the way Jonghyeon’s eyes widen. He snatches it with his free hand, rolling it around in his palm and examining it closely, like he’s making sure it’s real, before shoving it into his pocket.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Jonghyeon sneers, releasing Geonhak’s collar roughly.
Before Geonhak can bite back, the man grabs his wrist and pulls him into the mass of people. Pushing through the figures, the man keeps a firm grip until they’re past the bulk of the crowd and he ushers him into the dark space between two buildings.
Geonhak rips his hand away. “I had it under control,” he growls.
“I’m sure you did.”
“Why do you care?” he scowls.
“You’re not from around here,” the man says. “Right, Leedo?”
Geonhak stills. “How did you—“
The man holds up Geonhak’s identification card, poised between his pointer and middle finger. “You should know better than to go bumbling around a market full of thieves and scavengers.”
Geonhak swipes the card back, face hot, though the man’s laugh doesn’t grate at him quite as much as he thought it would.
“What are you doing here in a place like Houndor?”
“I needed to fix up my ship,” Geonhak answers, which isn’t untrue. “Who are you?”
“A nobody,” the man answers, shrugging.
“You seem to know your way around here pretty well,” Geonhak says. The man reaches up to tug his scarf down, and Geonhak pauses as he takes in the features of his face. It’s not uncommon to come across people like him—a pretty face, a set of skills, and nowhere to go. Places like Houndor breed a certain kind of person anyway, where the scorching, unforgiving environment and scarce resources mean only the ones who look out for themselves survive, by whatever means necessary.
“I’ve been here for a while.”
“Do you know what kind of goods I can find at the market?”
“What for?” the man pauses, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh. You need my help, don’t you?”
Geonhak grits his teeth.
“Well, we can help each other out,” he says. “How about we start with names?”
Geonhak frowns. “You know my name already.”
“You’re here because your ship crashed. You’re walking around like you’ve never been to a junkyard before, and you’re decked out like some wealthy bounty hunter,” the man raises an eyebrow. “You think I believe Leedo is your real name?”
Geonhak’s trying to decipher as much as he can about the man, but just as he grasps onto any detail about him, he dances out of reach. He’s only wearing plain clothing and small rucksack, hardly giving anything to glean information off of. As if he had nothing worthy of knowing about him. An unremarkable nobody, just as he said. The man has surely caught on to Geonhak’s curious, probing eyes, based on the upward twitch of his lips.
“Geonhak,” he answers at last. “Kim Geonhak.”
“Lee Seoho,” Seoho grins, and Geonhak finds his expression somewhat cattish. “I think we’re going to get along great, Geonhak.”
“I just need a new reactor core to get my ship working again,” he grumbles.
Seoho purses his lips. “Those are hard to come by around here,” he says. “But, you must have passed by one lucky star, because I saw one in the marketplace last week. Someone apparently sniped it from a Serpens Order ship.”
Geonhak pauses at that. Even he, among the spies doing reconnaissance around the lowest and smallest of places, have never ventured this far. “There’s Serpens Order equipment here? On Houndor?”
“A lot of people don’t know good junk from bad junk, but it’s pretty easy to recognize if you know what you’re looking for,” Seoho glances out to the main road, slipping his scarf back up his face. “Follow my lead. And don’t piss anyone off again.”
Geonhak huffs, a rebuttal on his tongue, but Seoho is already moving, back towards the throngs of moving figures. Geonhak trails close behind, trying not to lose sight of the back of Seoho’s head. When he slows to a stop, Geonhak peers over his shoulder to see an array of various devices and contraptions laid out on a rug, and dead center, the reactor core he needs. It’s a small, tube-shaped container, where the inside burns white, so bright he can’t look for too long. A dome-shaped droid patrols the area, wheeling back and forth, scanning the people milling about, beeping at anyone who comes too close.
“I need you to make a scene,” Seoho murmurs.
“What?”
“I need a distraction,” his eyes dart around. “Hurry.”
Geonhak surveys around him and locks onto a nearby cart passing by, filled with a heap of scrap metal pieces—flaps, panels, whatever could be torn off and salvaged from deserted ships. Sucking in a deep breath, he pulls his leg back, readies himself, and swings it as hard as he can at the front wheel. The front of the cart tips and goes crashing down, sending its contents flying everywhere. The vendor yells at him in a different tongue, and Geonhak yells back, only adding to the noise of onlookers murmuring. Seoho then appears on the other side of him, holding his rucksack in his arms—Geonhak hadn’t even realized he had slipped away.
Seoho clears his throat. “We should probably—”
He stiffens when someone else yells out. “Hey!”
“Run.”
A hand grabs his, and Geonhak’s running, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Behind them, he hears the sounds of metal clanging together, footsteps, more yelling and chaos, as they tear through the market, going wherever Seoho leads him. Geonhak squeezes his hand harder.
“This way,” Seoho veers right, dragging Geonhak with him. They sprint down alleyways and weave through houses, until, just over the crest of a sand dune, a speeder bike comes into view, hovering off the ground. Seoho haphazardly throws his rucksack over the handle and swings his leg over the seat. “Get on!”
Geonhak leaps on behind him, and when Seoho revs the engine, the bike kicks forward with surprising force, speeding off into the desert. The wind whipping through Geonhak’s hair is a nice momentary reprieve from the baking sun.
“Where’s your ship?” Seoho asks loudly, over the rumbling of the engine.
“A few miles that way,” Geonhak shields his eyes to point across the horizon, and Seoho guides his bike to follow.
Geonhak has been to many, many places—underwater civilizations, deep swamplands, snowy tundras, but none so vast as the desert planet of Houndor. A sweltering, dry expanse of sand as far as the eye can see, littered with whatever remains of the great ships and machinery that now lay in ruin.
When Seoho pulls the speeder bike up to the Aphelion, he’s laughing as he jumps off.
“That was kind of fun,” Seoho says. “I haven’t done something like that in a while.”
His scarf had slipped down in the wind, and Geonhak’s eyes flicker down to Seoho’s lips. When he looks back up, Seoho is watching him with dark eyes, for just a second too long, before he drops his gaze, reaching into his rucksack.
“Here you are, one reactor core,” Seoho tugs it out and heaves it into Geonhak’s open hand.
“Thank you,” Geonhak murmurs. “What do I owe you?”
Seoho eyes him for a moment. “How about this?”
Geonhak glances down when Seoho taps lightly at the silver star pinned to his jacket. “My pin?”
It’s nothing special, a small trinket of sorts that he picked up from somewhere, for good luck.
Seoho shrugs. “Just something to remember you by.”
“Well, we can make it worth something,” Geonhak offers. “If we ever met again, you can use this to call in a favor from me. No questions asked.”
“Deal,” Seoho grins and Geonhak removes it from his jacket, pressing it into Seoho’s palm.
“Safe travels, wherever you’re going,” Seoho says as he gets back on his bike. “Watch out next time. Any other stranger you meet won’t be nearly as nice.”
He drives away, and Geonhak carries the reactor core into the lower chamber of his ship. He pushes it into space inside the main reactor, which immediately pulls on it like a magnetic force. It begins to hover in the center, and Geonhak goes to the control panel on the wall, pressing each switch to fully power up the machine.
All the while, Seoho can’t seem to leave his mind. For a scavenger in the middle of the desert, Geonhak was expecting him to demand a lot more than just a pin—a pin for a favor he’ll never get, because once Geonhak leaves, he’s never coming back.
It was easy. A little too easy. Wouldn’t he want something much more valuable? Geonhak pauses, watching the lights in the chamber begin to turn on. But Seoho had had moon essence, one of the most valuable goods you could get, if you knew who you were trying to wager with. How did he manage to find moon essence in such a desolate place, where the nearest astronomical body was millions of miles away? Maybe there was more to Houndor than Geonhak had thought.
Back in the cockpit, when the Aphelion’s engine roars to life, relief floods through his veins. She’s burned and weathered, battered from years of travel. A light freighter class, one Geonhak had to argue for with his superior for weeks to finally be granted. Geonhak has flown her for every one of his missions, dodged enemy ships, torn holes in the fabric of space to jump to lightspeed, to the point where it felt she was going to break. But she’s never let him down, even now.
When Houndor becomes nothing but a small yellow speck behind him, Geonhak sets course for home. He pulls his blaster out from his belt and sets it on the chair next to him, but when he digs into his pocket, he finds it empty. To Geonhak’s own surprise, a breathy laugh escapes his lips, and he leans back in the pilot seat, waiting for the communication systems to finish powering on.
“Geonhak!” a voice filters through the transceiver. “Oh, thank the stars, you’re alive. Where are you?”
“Outer edges of Houndor.”
“Houndor?” Dongju asks in disbelief.
“I didn’t make it onto Oureth, Uprising ships were already there. I managed to escape, but my reactor core blew out and I crashed,” Geonhak rubs at his temple. “They couldn’t have been there by coincidence, Dongju. They must have known.”
“We can figure all of that out when you get back. We thought you had been captured,” Dongju exhales a sigh. “We lost all tracking on you. How did you manage to fix the ship?”
“I got some help.”
“Help?” Dongju’s voice, even through the crackling audio, is wary. “One slip up and our whole operation is over. We can’t afford to raise any suspicion. I hope you’re being careful.”
“I am,” Geonhak says. “It was just some scavenger. He was a nobody.”
A nobody, or at least Geonhak hopes. But those sharp eyes, that knowing smile, didn’t quite feel like a nobody.
ᯓ★
As soon as Geonhak touches back down on Keleo, a trooper is racing to meet him.
“General! We’ve got bad news.”
Geonhak’s blood runs cold and he immediately goes to the briefing room, his heavy boots echoing through the hallway. When the door slides open, a hush falls over the room, all eyes turning towards him.
“Fill me in,” Geonhak comes up to the holotable, already scanning over the projection in front of them. “What happened?”
“An Uprising attack,” Dongju zooms in on the hologram, where all they can see are piles of rubble and burning debris. “In the last hour, Uprising forces destroyed our Nollorix outpost, where we had some of our biggest reserves. We’ve lost a lot of troopers, and even more moon essence.”
“They were on Oureth,” Geonhak says. “They must have found Nollorix from one of our own.”
Dongju nods grimly. “We intercepted an Uprising transmission and confirmed they had found a Serpens Order spy.”
Geonhak sighs, watching the flames flicker and dance in the hologram. A heaviness hangs in the air, as thick as the silence. The Uprising fighters were smart, worked fast, played every move right, and they fell right into the palm of their hand. The Uprising knew they could never directly take on the pure power and size of the Serpens Order, so they decided to try and slowly chisel away at whatever ground they could gain. And it was working. But the fight was far from over.
“We can recover,” Geonhak says. “We’ll need to gather whatever resources we can before we rebuild. Pull the rest of the troops out of Nollorix and any moon essence we can salvage. We’ll prepare Keleo for their arrival.”
With a nod, the briefing is dismissed. Among the dispersing troopers, Geonhak sees his superior enter the room and bows to her. She’s tall, thin, with a gaunt face and gray hair pulled back into a sleek bun.
“General Kim,” Soojung says. “I’ve heard about the Uprising attack.”
“I will handle it,” Geonhak promises.
“I hope so,” she says. “Your failures weigh heavily on our leader. If your team continues to impede with the Serpens Order, we’ll have no choice but to terminate your operation and everything with it,” her dark eyes pierce into him, scrutinizing him like he were an insect. “We need that moon essence.”
“Yes, Grand General,” Geonhak says, and without another word, Soojung turns and leaves.
In the empty briefing room, Geonhak lingers in front of the hologram, hands clasped together, pouring over the entire scene. If only they had caught on sooner. If only Geonhak could have gotten to Oureth faster. If only the Aphelion’s reactor could have held on long enough to bring him home. He closes his eyes, blowing out a long sigh. They won’t get far until they can find where the Uprising is hiding their rebel base. The door behind him hisses open, and Dongju sits down heavily next to him.
“It’s bad,” Dongju says. “Years of gathering moon essence, gone. It’s going to take even longer to get back to where we were. And I’m not sure I could do it all again.”
Geonhak knows. It’s not a memory he likes to remember. Nameless villagers, with little knowledge of what greater fight was going on beyond them, who were forced to watch their homes get torn apart. The power of moon essence had been known by many long before the Serpens Order caught wind of what it could do. A powerful concentrate, the lifeblood of a moon, which can only be extracted from its core. They use it for fuel to power their ships and machines, but even someone as high a rank as Geonhak wouldn’t know the full extent of what it can do. The only one who knows is their leader.
Geonhak has never seen him or spoken with him, as he only passes down communication through their Grand General. He’s heard whisperings that their leader once suffered a great injury that he still has not fully recovered, and may not ever. Several villagers knew that moon essence had great healing potential, but when they refused to tell, their leader had slain them, and the knowledge was lost. Geonhak still hears their screams and the roaring fires in his dreams, but he’s come too far to lose faith. A bright future is on the horizon. Sacrifices, no matter how tragic, must be made to ensure peace and order prevails.
“Do you know where we can even find moon essence?” Dongju asks.
“No,” Geonhak says. “But I know someone who might.”
ᯓ★
Seoho sits cross-legged on a ledge inside the small ship he’s called home for the past year. It’s old and ransacked, leaving only a husk of the vessel, but enough to shield him from the winds and the sun. When he had decided to lay low on Houndor, he hadn’t had luxury in mind. Houndor was plain, unassuming, forgotten in the universe, and that was what mattered most.
It’s quiet—Seoho hadn’t realize how quiet his life had become on Houndor until him. He’s far enough away from town to not worry about scavengers bothering him, but that means he’s removed from their society and everyone in it. Merely a passing face in the marketplace. Aside from Hwanwoong, Seoho hasn’t been in contact with anyone else from the Uprising since he landed on Houndor. Keonhee was the one who flew him here, but he’s now off on another planet to rally the many others, voiceless and scattered across the galaxy, who fear that dark, looming force on the horizon.
Seoho’s fingers fidget around the edge of the card in his hand, and he looks down at Geonhak’s photo. For how he looked and carried himself, his fiery spirit was a surprise, something Seoho hadn’t seen in a while.
Rising to his feet, Seoho goes to the transceiver in the middle of the room. When he flips the power switch, only an infuriating white dot at the top of the device blinks back at him. Seoho sighs, aiming a kick at the hunk of metal, and it whirs to life.
“Finally,” he grumbles.
“Seoho?” Hwanwoong’s voice comes through first, before his face appears in the hologram, flickering and fuzzy.
“Got a favor to ask,” Seoho holds up the card. “I need you to run this identification card, see if anyone comes up.”
“Sounds like someone’s caught your eye,” Hwanwoong muses, as his eyes scan over the information.
“Something like that,” Seoho answers, plopping down into his chair, and Hwanwoong raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting too lonely out there in that junkyard.”
“I’m not ,” Seoho hisses. “He said he came to Houndor to fix his ship, but I don’t believe him. I just want to figure out what he was really doing here.”
Hwanwoong hums, the sound of his keyboard clicking filling the space between them.
“He was dressed in some fancy outfit, and his mannerisms were different,” Seoho rocks back and forth in his chair, squeaking each time he turns. “Not like anyone around here, or even any planet I have ever been on.”
“Seoho.”
The tone of Hwanwoong’s voice immediately draws Seoho’s attention back to the hologram. Beside him, an image appears, of Geonhak in a proper uniform. He looks a little younger, and his dark hair is a little shorter, but it’s undoubtedly him.
“He’s with the Serpens Order.”
Seoho’s sitting upright now. “What else?”
“He’s a general,” Hwanwoong says. “He led the battle on Aeris years ago. Been a part of their fleet as far back as our records go.”
Seoho blows out a long breath, and finds his eyes wandering to the silver star gleaming from its place on a shelf across the room.
“What should we do?”
“He’s long gone now,” Seoho says. “What else can we do?”
“A Serpens Order general just so happened to land on the abandoned planet where you’re hiding out?” Hwanwoong asks. “Maybe you should come back to Myrith.”
“He didn’t know,” Seoho shakes his head.
“Your research can wait until we make sure you’re not being targeted. You said you were running out of moon essence, anyway.”
“He’s not coming back. Don’t worry.”
Hwanwoong sighs, like he knows better than to try to argue with his superior. “If anymore trouble happens on Houndor, I’m sending Keonhee to get you.”
Seoho huffs out a laugh. “I’ll be okay.”
“Be safe,” Hwanwoong murmurs, before his image disappears.
Hwanwoong’s fierce protectiveness is no surprise, the same kind that pulsed through Seoho’s veins when he led Hwanwoong away, hand in hand, as their colony went up in flames.
Seoho grew up on a lonely, distant planet, and because his parents were always busy, he didn’t have much to do besides invent games and explore the wilderness with Hwanwoong. For a long, long time, he didn’t know what his parents did, who they would talk to, or why Seoho’s father’s hands would often have a faint glimmer to them. Seoho used to ask, but they never told him, and eventually, he accepted it as a choice to remain in the dark.
But he had no choice when a fleet of ships descended on their planet, the roaring of their engines grating against Seoho’s ears. When his mother squeezed his and Hwanwoong’s hands together and told them to run as far away as possible. When she promised that she would find them later. When Seoho turned and fled, and knew he would never see her again. Huddled in the dark underbrush, with their arms and legs scraped by branches and twigs, it had never been a colder night, until the Uprising fighters came. Seoho still remembers the flash of the phoenix on the front of his jacket, with its wings unfurled in flight, and how he smelled like smoldering embers.
There’s nothing like a calling to save the galaxy that brings people together. Seoho knows that now, after he could ignore it no longer. He can almost feel the powerful energy radiating from the vials of moon essence hidden away in every corner of the ship. The very reason his colony was burnt to the ground, his parents were killed, and he’s here now.
Was its power, and his knowledge of it, a blessing or a curse? Seoho’s not sure. His parents sure believed in it, in its potential to serve the greater good. They were willing to sacrifice everything to keep it safe from the wrong hands. To that end, Seoho can understand—he will do whatever he needs to do to protect the ones he loves and see to the end of his oath, or until he can no longer.
He becomes aware of the silence again, somehow heavier than before, and goes back to the ledge, watching the final moments of the setting sun.
ᯓ★
A sense of familiarity falls over him when the boarding ramp lowers and all Geonhak sees is sand. He hadn’t quite thought through what his plan was going to be, until he’s gazing out over the empty desert with no idea where to begin. Seoho could be on his speeder bike in any place, but the town may be a good place to start—after all, there’s not much else on this planet besides sand dunes and abandoned space junk.
The marketplace is just as busy as Geonhak ambles through the crowd, scanning every face in passing. When he comes by a certain stall, he weighs his options: to try and go undetected and without help, or ask around and make himself known to those who may remember him. But the ticking clock is most important, above all else, so he needs to move quickly.
“Jonghyeon,” Geonhak says, discerning the split second of recognition on the vendor’s face. “I’m looking for Seoho.”
“What’s it to me?” Jonghyeon narrows his eyes. “Get lost, thief. You shouldn’t have come back here.”
Something glimmers in the sunlight, and Geonhak’s eyes drop down to the nearly empty flask hanging around his neck, tucked within the folds of his headscarf. “You’re almost out of moon essence,” Geonhak observes, voice curling. “If Seoho has some more that I can get my hands on, perhaps I could spare you some.”
Jonghyeon’s mouth thins into a flat line, and Geonhak knows he’s got what he wanted.
“I saw him earlier,” he grunts, nodding to his left. “He went that way.”
It doesn’t take long before Geonhak sees him, looking over a vendor stirring a bunch of pots full of thick, bubbling liquids. But as Geonhak moves towards him, he suddenly hurries off, at a much faster pace. Geonhak follows him, through the bodies in the crowd, before he turns the corner into the closest alleyway. When Geonhak does the same, he’s gone.
Suddenly, a swift kick to the back of his leg sends him to his knees, and Geonhak raises his head to meet the pointed end of a blade inches from his face. His eyes wander upwards and sees a familiar face, colored with utter surprise.
“Geonhak?” Seoho asks. “What are you doing here?”
“I need your help.”
“Again?” Seoho raises an eyebrow. “What now?”
“I need to know where I can find moon essence.”
“And what do I get out of helping you this time?”
“What do you want?”
Seoho pauses, lowering his blade and holding out a hand to help Geonhak up. “I found an old ship that crashed on Houndor,” he says. “I think it was a cargo ship, but I won’t know for sure until I get inside. I could use your help to bring back some of the goods,” his eyes sweep over the curve of Geonhak’s arm, and he reaches out to squeeze the muscle, a lopsided grin crawling up his face.
“Fine,” Geonhak agrees gruffly.
“Great,” Seoho slaps his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He slinks back out of the alleyway and Geonhak has to run just to keep up.
The ship lays on its side, with some of the dark paint scrubbed away by the sand and winds. The door is slightly slid open, but not enough to squeeze through. At first, Seoho presses at the broken scanning pad next to the door, and then begins pulling at the door itself, but it doesn’t budge.
“The doorway’s blocked,” he huffs.
“Seoho,” Geonhak’s eyes follow him as he scurries back to his bike. “What are you doing?”
“Let me show you,” Seoho digs into the large net tied tightly to the side of his bike, filled to the brim with bits and pieces of materials and gadgets, until he pulls out a small pouch and another glass flask. “All you need is moon essence and lunalite.”
He sprinkles some gray powder at the foot of the door, before splashing a few drops of moon essence. “You might want to stand back.”
When Geonhak backs up, smoke begins to rise up from the mixture, along with a sizzling sound that grows louder and louder. He jumps when a burst of white light blinds him and his ears pop from the explosion that suddenly blows the door in.
“How did you know that?”
Seoho waves his hand, slipping through the entrance. Geonhak stares at the back of his head for a moment, before following after him.
“I was right,” Seoho’s voice echoes through the main chamber. “This cargo ship has been here for years. What was it carrying?”
While Seoho shuffles back and forth, carrying various goods back to his bike, Geonhak wanders through the hallways. His foot bumps into a box in the doorway to the cockpit, and Geonhak bends down closer, brushing away the dust from the tag pasted onto the side of it. He stills when he sees the insignia printed on—a black snake, forming a circle as it consumes its own tail. When Seoho rummages through another box, a small, orb-shaped device falls to the floor. As soon as it hits the ground, the device begins to hum and lifts into the air, hovering in front of him.
A memory sparks in the back of Geonhak’s mind. This is something he’s seen before, faintly, on a screen in a room full of little heads. He nearly forgot about it, being an old, defunct trap that the Serpens Order no longer uses once more powerful, deadly weapons were invented. A light on the front of the device begins to glow, reflecting off of Seoho’s face, and panic crashes over Geonhak like a tidal wave.
“Seoho!”
Geonhak only has seconds to react, and like a reflex, he runs and shoves Seoho as hard as he can. Then he hears the sound of glass shattering, feels the stinging shards cut into his arms, which instinctively came up to shield his face, and the splatter of poison across his exposed skin.
He sways for a moment, and only seconds later, a dizziness overtakes him, so intense that he can barely think. Then he’s tipping over, losing the strength in his legs, but a pair of arms catches him.
“Shit,” Seoho gasps. “Geonhak.”
It feels like he’s been plunged underwater, his vision blurring and sounds becoming muffled. He can barely register what’s going on around him, but through the fog in his mind, he distantly considers how nice his name sounds from Seoho’s lips, in his voice.
Seoho grabs his chin, forcing Geonhak to look at him. “What was in it, Geonhak?”
Geonhak doesn’t answer, eyes hazy and unfocused. Seoho curses, pulling him upright and throwing his arm over his shoulders. When Geonhak staggers, Seoho grabs him around the waist and holds tight.
“C’mon, walk,” Seoho grunts. “I know you can.”
He half-drags, half-guides Geonhak back out into the bright sunlight. Geonhak’s head lolls with the movement of their steps, before he lifts it to look at the side of Seoho’s face.
“You’re too pretty for your own good,” Geonhak mumbles, his words slurring together. “It’s going to get you in trouble.”
“How so?”
Seoho’s face is so close now. Geonhak’s eyes flicker down to Seoho’s lips, begging for a taste.
Geonhak’s feet slow down, and Seoho mirrors him, until they come to a stop. Seoho’s breath catches in his throat, as Geonhak leans in, and he feels the whisper of his breath against his lips. But then Geonhak’s eyelids flutter, and, like a light is clicked off, his head rolls forward and his full weight falls onto him.
ᯓ★
Geonhak dreams of the endless expanse of space, of the nearly complete and empty darkness, of the faint glimmer of stars speckled throughout the galaxy. He dreams of sunlight speckling the ground through a lush canopy of trees. The sound of rushing water and birds singing. The feeling of grass underneath his feet and wind whistling through his hair. The taste of fruit, sweet and juicy, on his tongue. And when he feels himself settle back into his body, his eyes flicker open.
Slowly, he sits up, surveying the space around him. Bandages are wrapped neatly around his arms and hands. Piles of journals and papers with scrawling paragraphs and drawings litter the floor. He grabs the closest piece of paper, and on it, he sees a small sketch of a familiar glass flask, colored in with a dark pencil.
Seoho ducks inside, immediately noticing Geonhak upright in his bed.
“How long was I out?”
“A couple days,” Seoho plops down next to him and presses his hand against Geonhak’s forehead. “Fever’s gone. How do you feel?”
“Better,” Geonhak says. Although his throat is a little dry, everywhere else on his body feels relatively normal. When Seoho pulls the bandages off, he’s surprised to see all the cuts have healed, without any traces of scars. His skin seems to glimmer, but it just could be a trick in the sunlight, filtering in through the front window of the ship.
What seems to have taken the biggest hit is his memory. While he remembers bits and pieces of what happened inside that cargo ship, every time he tries to focus on pinning one down, it slips away from him.
Seoho hums, turning to sweep up the mess spread out over the bed, and Geonhak is quick to spot the antidote among the shifting papers. No lowly scavenger would have any idea about the poison from that explosive, let alone how to cure it.
“Seoho,” he says, quietly. “Who are you, really?”
“I told you,” Seoho says, keeping his eyes downcast. “A nobody.”
A nobody, huh. A nobody means no strings attached, means memories that will remain between them. Geonhak gently thumbs over Seoho’s jaw to turn his face towards him. Don’t look any closer, his eyes seem to say. Geonak leans in anyway, closer, closer, giving Seoho every chance to pull away. But he doesn’t, closing the distance to meet him.
Seoho’s lips are surprisingly soft, as soft as his movements, tentative and curious. He follows Geonhak’s lead, warm breath fluttering over him while Geonhak explores. When they pull away, Geonhak’s mouth tingles.
“You can find moon essence on Dashis 109,” Seoho says. “There’s group of pirates who have extraction equipment that they took from another planet.”
“Thank you.”
Seoho's eyes flick back and forth between his, before he rises from the bed. “I’ll take you back to your ship.”
Geonhak has never been one for saying goodbyes. When he can’t even remember his own family, every relationship is a transient one, never meant to last long, never meant to become something meaningful. Much of his work confines him only to interactions that get him what he needs—anything more is a waste of time and too much of a risk. But, as he stands at the foot of the Aphelion, he finds that he wants Seoho to linger just a little longer.
“Not going to use your favor yet?” he asks.
“Are you leaving for good this time?” Seoho leans against his speeder bike, smirking.
“No promises,” Geonhak shrugs lightly.
“Not yet, then,” Seoho laughs, climbing onto his bike. “See you around, Geonhak.”
Geonhak watches him speed off, until he’s a dark speck against the horizon, and his obligations must continue. Aboard his ship, the first thing he does is power on his transceiver, while the rest of the lights flicker on.
“This is Kim Geonhak. I’ve received information that moon essence reserves are on Dashis 109. They’re in the possession of pirates. Proceed with caution.”
“Yes, sir. We’re sending troops now,” a voice responds. “We’ll see you when you return, General.”
Once Geonhak programs the route back to Keleo into the navigation system, he stares out into the vast blankness of space. Alone, in silence, he finally allows himself to think about a certain face, his smile, the feeling of his lips.
With nothing left to do but wait, Geonhak returns to his quarters and settles onto his bed. He remembers Seoho’s laugh, thinks about the burning feeling in his chest when Seoho looks at him. A similar burn warms his face when his hand flutters over the waistband of his pants.
He quickly tugs them down to his thighs and pumps his cock, feeling it fill out in his hand. He tilts his head back with a quiet sigh, imagination running wild with ideas that, for once, he doesn’t try to quash down.
Seoho’s eyes. Seoho’s pretty mouth.
His pace speeds up, slicking up his palm. What his full, pink lips would feel like, wrapped around his—
He comes with a moan.
ᯓ★
The retrieval is a success, and everything Geonhak heard from the mission echoes exactly what Seoho had told him. Dashis 109. Pirates. Stolen extraction equipment.
Geonhak should be carefully observing the tanks of moon essence that are unloaded off the ships, but against his better judgment, his mind wanders. It’s far from coincidence that some random scavenger in the middle of nowhere possess such vast troves of knowledge. Who was Seoho really? What lives has he lived?
“Geonhak,” Dongju says behind him. “I need to talk to you.”
Geonhak turns. “What is it?”
“Privately,” Dongju says, quietly, which immediately dissipates his wayward thoughts.
He follows Dongju down the hall towards the briefing room, but to his surprise, Dongju pulls him into a nearby storage unit. It’s completely dark, stuffy, and the corner of a box digs into a point in his back. A blue light suddenly illuminates Dongju’s face, emitted from the small device in his palm. Geonhak’s gaze drops down to the little planet that appears before them.
“Is that…” Geonhak whispers, eyes wide.
“It’s Nobos. I found it inside an archived database, locked behind the highest level of security,” Dongju says. “Someone’s gone through a lot of effort to try and hide it.”
With Dongju’s skill, it was only a matter of time before those databases were found. When he had lost his family on his home planet, Dongju had to find a way to survive, and that came in the form of utility, learning from the pirates, bounty hunters, and droid hackers who roamed his city. At twelve years old, when the Serpens Order descended on his planet, they had made it somewhat of a habit to pick up young children for their cause, and although Geonhak had to be taken from his family, Dongju had nowhere else to go.
Young and foolish, he and Geonhak often played around by hacking into droids, making them beep in silly ways and wheel around in circles. When their superiors began to catch on, Dongju quickly put an end to it, but Geonhak knew he would never let his skills fade away completely.
“I need to go,” Geonhak says. “I need to see what became of it.”
“I’ll cover for you,” Dongju powers down the holoprojector and presses it into Geonhak’s palm. “It’s located in a part of the galaxy I’m not familiar with, so be careful. You never know what kind of ships will be roaming those areas.”
“I’ll be okay,” Geonhak assures him.
“I know,” Dongju’s mouth quirks upwards. “Tell me about it when you get back.”
ᯓ★
“You just can’t get enough of me,” Seoho laughs.
“It’s true,” Geonhak answers, a little too honestly, but it’s worth it for the unguarded expression that takes over Seoho’s face.
“You—”
Geonhak doesn’t let him finish, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him in. His lips are as soft and warm as he remembers, the memories away tucked in the far corners of his mind.
“What is it this time?” Seoho murmurs.
“I’m on a special mission,” Geonhak pulls out the holoprojector and activates it in the small space between them. “Come with me.”
Seoho observes the planet for a moment, spinning around its axis in a slow circle. “You need me to help navigate, don’t you?”
“It’ll be fun,” Geonhak grins wolfishly. “You can get a break from this junkyard for a bit, and…” he clears his throat, a flush of heat searing the apples of his cheeks. “I’d like your company.”
Seoho huffs, but he’s biting back a smile. “Fine.”
When Seoho boards the Aphelion, his sharp eyes immediately scanning in every direction, Geonhak belatedly becomes aware of her disarray—his jacket haphazardly shucked to the side, miscellaneous ship pieces scattered everywhere, a toolbox laying open on the floor. But he can’t interfere much while he’s piloting her into space, so he lets Seoho poke through some of his belongings and wander through the halls.
When Geonhak flies far enough away from Houndor’s gravitational pull and finishes charting the route to Nobos into the navigation system, he goes to find Seoho. He’s in another room, where a bigger image of the planet is projected over a small holotable, allowing them to see finer details on the surface.
“What planet is it?”
“It’s called Nobos. My home planet,” Geonhak closes his eyes for a moment, to conjure the memories as best as he can behind his eyelids. “I remember my village was in the center of a beautiful forest. Big, cascading waterfalls, all kinds of wildlife, so much food that we would never go hungry.”
“You’ve never been back?”
“I was taken away as early as I can remember. They planned on bringing great success and abundance to Nobos, and promised me I could come back when their work was complete. Since then, I haven’t tried.”
He’s considered it, many times before, but as he rose through the ranks, their higher mission, their ultimate cause, became too important to try to focus on his own personal concerns.
“What do you think it will be like?” Seoho gazes up at the hologram, the blue light making his eyes glow.
“I don’t know,” Geonhak lifts one shoulder. “I hope it’s even better than I remember.”
Seoho gets up, and Geonhak’s eyes never waver from him as he walks over, swinging his leg over him and settling in his lap.
Geonhak kisses him slow, careful, hands wandering down to his ass, squeezing just to hear the delicious rumble that escapes Seoho’s throat. Seoho pulls back, his eyes molten, and that’s all Geonhak needs to pick him up and carry him down the hallway.
Seoho, laid out across his sheets, is a whole new weakness for him. Geonhak, ever so swift and efficient, grapples for the hem of Seoho’s shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. He crawls over him, sucking bruising kisses along his skin, pressing his lips to the singular mole in the center of his torso, pulling one nipple into his mouth.
Seoho snakes his hand into Geonhak’s hair and tugs, making him hum against his skin. When Geonhak pulls back to remove his own shirt, Seoho reaches out to feel along his arms, his chest, his ribcage. Geonhak twitches, making a surprised sound.
“Your hands are cold,” he huffs.
“Warm me up then,” Seoho grins at him, and Geonhak can’t help but lean down to kiss him again.
Seoho exhales in surprise, but easily opens up under the pressure of Geonhak’s lips. He moans quietly when Geonhak swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, allowing him to lick deeper into his mouth. There’s a crackling energy filling the space between them, an aching for intimacy, a craving for more. Geonhak draws feverish trails around Seoho’s torso with his hands, smiling into the kiss when he feels Seoho shiver under him.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, the breath getting punching out of his lungs when Seoho gazes up at him, cheeks pinched with pink, chest heaving with exertion, eyes lidded with want. Only for him.
Seoho seems to like it when Geonhak jostles him around, when he pins Seoho’s hands above him, against the headboard. Surprise fills his eyes, before melting into something hotter, darker, as he sinks deeper into the mattress.
Seoho hadn’t expected—this. Geonhak moves so slowly, observing every one of his movements with rapt attention, running a calloused palm over his abdomen just to see the muscles flex and clench.
“I didn’t know you’d be so—” Seoho gasps out. “So careful.”
Geonhak pauses, eyes darkening. “You make me want to be. I want to take my time with you.”
He tugs on Seoho’s waistband, freeing him from his pants, where he is flushed and leaking.
“You too,” Seoho says breathlessly, pulling down Geonhak’s pants.
Repositioning himself so that he’s flush against the backs of Seoho’s thighs, Geonhak gently grinds down, watching Seoho’s expression light up with pleasure. Seoho gingerly presses their cocks together, hand wrapping around hot, throbbing skin. He slides his fist down, then back up, pumping over the heads to collect the precome and ease the glide. He finds a rhythm, alternating between quick, light strokes and long, slow drags. Geonhak’s moans, low, deep, and breathy, make heat spark down Seoho’s body.
When Seoho rubs his thumb over Geonhak’s slit, his hips jerk under the weight of Seoho’s legs wrapped loosely around him, precome dribbling out the more Seoho touches. Not one to let him do all the work, Geonhak’s hand comes up to grip their cocks together, speeding up the pace of his stroking, and Seoho arches his back towards him with a whine.
One hand anchored in Geonhak’s hair and the other on his shoulder, Seoho squeezes his eyes closed. Geonhak twists his wrist on the upstroke, delighting in the way Seoho is so responsive, letting out a little ah, ah, ah with every slide of Geonhak’s fist. It’s so wet and messy, as Geonhak easily pumps his hand up and down, reveling in the slide of Seoho’s cock along his, in the tight pressure around both their lengths, in their red, drooling heads pressed together. Seoho moans unabashedly, hips rocking up into Geonhak’s grip.
“Geonhak,” Seoho says, head rolling to the side when Geonhak leans down to pepper kisses down his throat. The slick sounds make his ears burn, pace becoming sloppy as they near the edge. “I’m going to—”
With a high moan, his come spills over the head of his cock. Geonhak quickens his pace and curls his fist even tighter, desperately chasing his orgasm. Seoho whimpers from the oversensitivity, but weakly thrusts forward, the glide of his cock against Geonhak’s sending fireworks up his spine.
Geonhak comes with a gasp, his release mixing with Seoho’s and dripping down over both of them. Seoho runs his fingers soothingly along Geonhak’s scalp as he comes down from his high, listening to his breathing slow down. Geonhak smiles, leaning down to kiss him again before collapsing beside him.
They lie in the dark, with only the hum of the Aphelion’s engine filling the silence. Seoho’s hands, always curious, always greedy for more, wander over the dips and curves of Geonhak’s torso, uncovered by the blanket.
He traces over the scars and faded marks in his skin, reminders and keepsakes to catalogue Geonhak’s past. A run-in with a bounty hunter looking for the same target. A hunt for fighters through deep, winding woods, filled with gnarly thorns and branches. A house, collapsing in flames, that showered a wave of embers over him.
So many questions in Seoho’s eyes, but ones Geonhak’s not sure he’s ready to give the answers to.