Chapter Text
Going down so far with the lift felt like diving into the crust of the earth, like entering hell. When the doors opened, Ethos was horrified how differently everything looked down here. All walls and corridors were coloured in dark grey. Every few metres, there were vertical tunnels, scary hoistways and ladders that led to only Mother knew where. Red panels were flashing like fires. And it was hot.
Ethos tore his jacket collar open while he stood in this metal desert for a moment, puzzled, looking around in disbelief. This was so unlike the white, clean navigator world he lived in, it made him helpless and, worst of all, feel terribly lost. Then, however, his navigator's senses kicked in and he remembered he had a blueprint of the Sleipnir saved on his datapad from structural engineering class. This should give him something to hold unto.
When he just had opened the document and identified the area he was located in now, he heard muffled voices in the half-dark and approaching steps coming around the corner.
Fighters!
Adrenaline shot through his body when Ethos gave a jump, his hands were on the elevator's button already when he saw it were no fighters, but two MP-men. Ah, this was really handy. He could ask them to take him to the gyms, this way he would have his personal security escort!
With a big smile, Ethos hastened towards the men in the half-dark corridor, so glad to have found company. But all of a sudden, something in their expressions made him wince in horror, and his hand clenched around his datapad.
“Look who we got here! If that's not our little bug fucker!”
The taller guy in the black Alliance police uniform bared his teeth in a nasty grin, slowly stepping closer to the navigator.
“Yeah, that's him - the fucking antlicker”, the other sneered, compelling Ethos to step back against the wall. “And all on his own, my my. Look how he trembles.”
They were so tall and strong, they were two. They carried guns. And their intentions were clear. Ethos had heard too many stories of raped navis, attacked somewhere in dark corridors, screaming in vain. He couldn't believe it was his turn now, that policemen were capable of this, too, and his blood froze.
If he played along submissively, he thought with a shocking lucidity, then maybe they wouldn't hurt him too badly. Maybe they would let him go afterwards, and he had to go, he had a mission to fulfill! So he needed to be brave now, to bear it, like a soldier... But he wasn't brave. His teeth were chattering.
“Hm, he looks a little pale, don't you think so, Toby? Maybe we should remove him to fresh air!”
And without waiting for his colleague's consent, the man grabbed the terrified navigator and brutally pushed him into the corridor. Ethos flew forward and barely kept himself from falling, his datapad, however, clattered to the ground.
“Good idea! Now you're going to see what we do with turncoats like you down here”, 'Toby' exclaimed wickedly.
“Move!”, the other shouted, pushing Ethos forward once more.
Ethos didn't even have time to look around or call for help. His hip hurt from his fall, and his limbs were paralyzed due to his shock. One of the MPs took hold of him once more and pushed his head against the wall with these odious hands while the other opened the door to an airlock. Ethos squirmed, his eyes widened as he realized what was going on, but the other man held him tight, almost squishing his skull.
“No!”, the navigator stammered, “You're police, you can't do that, you have to help me!” But all he got in response was hands around his throats that stifled every further sound.
“We don't want shit like you on this ship, do you understand?”, the one called Toby snarled. “We're gonna send you out there to your friends, where a bugfag like you belongs.”
They were going to space him! So this was where his life ended, far away from Vsl he wanted to protect, from anyone that could hear and help him.
“Godspeed, ratfink!”
Ethos was pushed into the airlock and crashed against the metal wall when the door slid closed behind him. Only one layer of insulated metal remained now between him and deepspace, separating healthy air to breathe from deathly void.
Ethos cried. So these two ugly faces were the last thing Ethos was going to see of humanity – why? Mother, why? What had he done wrong?
Suddenly, however, the door opened again, a tiny little bit at least. Through the arising gap Ethos could see how hands in black gloves grabbed one MP at the throat. There was a shriek of pain echoing in the corridor, and in the next second, it was followed by a thud, and gone was the figure.
Ethos couldn't move at first, he stood like frozen, flush against the wall, in mortal fear of what might happen to him now. When he realized by curses and screams that there was a fight going on behind the door, he eventually reacted and sprang forward to escape from the airlock, screaming himself when one of his attackers got slammed against the rigid metal wall right next to him. A tall, dark figure was maltreating him without mercy, fighting him down with precisely targeted punches and kicks.
Ethos slid to the side, out of reach, only to almost stumble over two other men grappling on the floor. One of them was tall and bleeding, the other one small and nimble with a knife in his hand. Ethos' legs suddenly gave in under him. He covered his eyes with his hands.
The air was filled with a sickening smell of iron, with groaning and snarling, almost louder than the rushing of blood in Ethos' ears. The fight seemed to go on forever as every second stretched into eternity. Abruptly, though, the noises stopped, and there was an eerie, almost tangible silence. When the navigator dared to raise his head he had hidden between his legs, he beheld no other than Praxis, standing in front of him with heaving chest and bleeding lip. The man remained motionless for an instant. Then he reached down for him with one bruised hand to pull him up.
The fighter looked at him so tired, so reproachfully. Eventually, he opened his mouth to scold his navigator, and though Ethos knew he deserved it, he preempted him and fell against the sweaty, strong frame of his partner, hugging him as tight as he ever could.
“Praxis!”, the navigator sobbed. “Y-you saved my life!” And he held unto the man even tighter despite the other's rigidness and polite reluctance. This was his fighter. His partner. And he was here.
“I only did my job, Ethos.”
Oh, Ethos could have kissed him out of sheer relief! But he was carefully passed into the arms of Deimos now who undertook the kissing-part, striking Ethos' locks and putting his jacket in order, his little mouth so pinched because he, Ethos, had caused him to worry so much again. Oh what had he done to make Deimos look like this, look at him like this, so pained and exhausted, so unlike some hours earlier in their crate? He was so terribly stupid, so unfit to be the hero he needed to be.
“B-both of you saved my life”, Ethos stammered over and over again amidst the tender ministrations of his silent boyfriend, standing small, helpless and stupid between these two strong men that risked their lives for him. How could he ever thank them? He felt how tears sprung into his eyes again, he wanted to become invisible in Deimos' arms and make all this unhappen.
“S-so you both got my messages?”, he whispered. “Encke let you go?”
Praxis huffed and shrugged, adjusting his eyepatch as he spoke. “I said I need a toilet break. What can the old man do about it? 'Every minute makes 5 extra laps', ha. Fine by me. There's worse than running.”
Suddenly Ethos almost had to laugh about him, maybe it was the effects of all the adrenaline in his blood, or maybe all recent events had taken a toll on his nerves. He felt ashamed and covered his mouth with his hands.
“But... Deimos?”
Praxis huffed and cast his fight partner an envious, but comradely glance. “Encke won't even have noticed Deimos has disappeared. The advantage of being so small.”
He gave the small fighter a sign with his head, wordlessly asking for something. Placing a hand on his navigator's shoulder, he then added: “Come on, Ethos. I'll take you up to your levels again before those two here sing out.” He briefly turned towards the side where on the metal floor, in the half-dark, the two groaning MPs were laying, fettered with belts and guarded by Deimos. In the oddest moments, it occurred to Ethos what beautiful eyes his lover had.
It felt good to return to a part of the corridor that looked at least a bit familiar. Ethos still trembled too much to push the elevator button himself, though.
“What in the world made you come down here, Ethos?”, Praxis eventually asked, very earnestly. “You should know you of all navs are the persona non grata among the crew.”
“B-But the police... They were police!”, Ethos defended himself.
Praxis snorted. “They only protect what Bering tells them to protect. Now tell me what's going on.”
Ethos gulped. He had almost forgotten his serious situation through the even more serious one he had ended up in. “I need your help, Praxis.”, he whispered. “A-again. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have dragged you into this, but it's urgent. I-I had a talk with Keeler, and I have the impression that a conspiracy is going on here on the ship. You have to help me to save Vsl from the Alliance. I know, Praxis! Please don't get mad. You don't have to come near her, I just need you to get something for her: booze.”
Praxis' surprised exclamation resounded in the hallway, and then he started laughing, loudly and heartily.
“We don't want to get wasted, Praxis! It's very serious, it's a matter of life and death. Desinfectant, rubbing alcohol, anything will do!”
“Ha! Don't tell me you came down here only to ask me for booze?”
Ethos looked at his fighter a little dumbfounded. The other went on: “You should better have asked Cain in that matter! Contraband booze is pretty hard to get right now, but Cain still has some secret reserves. At least he's boasting about it.” Praxis rolled his eye.
Cain, of course! Why didn't Ethos think of him in the first place? He really could have spared himself the danger of coming here alltogether, the navigator thought, and was inclined to slap himself. Sighing, he wiped his face and eyes to make himself semi-presentable instead before driving upwards, stopping the lift with his foot for a moment. He touched Praxis' arm and looked at him once more, grateful and earnest.
“Thank you for everything, Praxis. Please take care."