If the swamp-child cared that the party guests pointed and gushed about the stringy turd clinging to the crevice between its adorable green butt cheeks, it didn't show it. Oblivious of the attendees' coos, the infant swampling pressed its webbed hands against the glass of its tank, fixating its large yellow gaze on one guest in particular.
He was the only party-goer who curled his lip at the young swamp creature. His black, thin eyebrows scrunched together over a pair of narrowed, mismatched eyes. The brown eye on the left returned the steady curiosity of the child. On the right, the gold filled socket gleamed behind thick strands of black hair.
The swamp creature reached out with pudgy arms. It stretched forward to grab at the shiny plate on the strange human's gloomy face.
"I think it wants something," Moon grunted at Teeno. "Don't tell me we're being forced to watch it feed. I swear to God, Teeno—"
Teeno, bedecked in his gaudiest blue and silver jacket smiled wide. He raised a glass in greeting toward a slender guest as she passed by.
Ladies of high society loved Teeno's sleek grooming. They adored every inch of him from his silver hair slicked back from the peak in the center of his forehead, to his haute pointed, polished blue boots that perfectly complimented the specific powdery hue of his couture officer's jacket. If they weren't won over by his sharp attire, then it might be his roguish charm or natural levity. To the multiple sexes of the galaxy, Teeno could shit his own intestines for dinner and they'd all still want to fuck him.
It made Moon want to vomit.
Teeno chuckled. "Good Lord, no. We are merely here for its First Breath. I can't believe in all the years you've been alive, you've never attended a First Breath party."
Whenever Teeno brought up Moon's years in captivity as Juno's pet, he tended to lose his composure. "No. We're here to free Nuna. This is a work function and not your petty socialite playground. But now that you've mentioned how little of the universe I've seen, considering I've spent five hundred of my five-hundred and fifty-six years of life on that fucking prison shithole. . . that rotting hell of inescapable—"
Moon struggled to finish his thought as the iron-fisted control he maintained over his body slipped. As his ire increased, the clanking of his bones popping from their joints rattled the few classy guests within earshot. They turned to stare in disgust as the hideous man's body twitched. The hand holding his beverage jerked violently, sloshing the drink around.
Teeno's forced chuckles and backward steps exposed his true uneasiness when Moon lashed out. Though he still beamed with his usual jovial carelessness, his anxious gaze darted around the room to catch the bystanders' reactions.
Moon closed his eye.
Return to your helm.
The mantra cleared out the turmoil, stretching out a black, open sky before him. The words pushed away his insecurity and flattened his flustered thoughts about his failing limbs. You are the master of this ship. Return to your helm. Return to your helm. He imagined the deck of his ship where he stood alone, facing the vast ocean of stars. Friendly emptiness and silence met him as he faced the expanse of black beyond his helm. They sucked his confusion into a vortex and spit it out far, far away. With a naked finger, he pressed on the cool, sleek panel at his side, reviving the ship's controls. A simple caress of skin on glass seized command of the vessel. The creak of the ship correcting its course synchronized with his heartbeat.
Once again, Captain Shin-Hyun Moon's body aligned with his mind.
When Teeno sensed the nuanced slump, the even breathing, the nearly imperceivable calm of his captain, he returned to his side. "I apologize. You're right. We're here for Nuna."
"For Nuna. And—" Moon pointed at the swampling who still made grabby hands in their direction. "If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to punch the thing if it keeps looking at me funny."
"It's a baby."
"I don't care. It's stupid," Moon snapped. "It's swimming in its own shit."
"And sometimes you walk into your own farts, my dear. How is that different?"
Moon lifted his cup and mourned its lack of contents. "Touché."
The opulent hall's high ceilings carried the voices of the party-goers, congealing it into a muggy cloud hovering above. Hot breath from chatter and flaccid laughter formed the steamy bog Moon was forced to endure. He stood in the middle of the moist room, honing his focus in on his skin. He waited for something to react.
For the gelatinous patch of see-through rubber over his ribs to twitch.
For the blue scales on the back of his neck to flare.
For his mechanical bones to ache.
He waited for his implants to react to their creator's presence. Only then would he know they were in the right place.
So far, no sign.
He considered the swamp child again. It gazed at him with what appeared to be moony admiration. It separated its pink lips wide, wide, wider, unhinging its jaw. The yellow eyes rolled back as it gagged on its own tank water.
Fascinated by the creature at last, Moon clutched Teeno's forearm. "What is it doing?"
"Ah! It looks like the ceremony's about to begin!" Teeno squeezed through the crowd to get a better view, pulling Moon with him.
The proud parents standing at the side of the tank made space for the guests, ushering them around to enjoy the fullest experience. The First Breath! The First! It came too quickly. Why it seemed as if it was only yesterday it had clawed itself free from its mother's exo-uterean pouch. How time flies.
Moon stood behind Teeno, peering over his shoulder as the swampling gurgled, tiny bubbles escaping from its too-wide mouth. It flailed in the water as if it had forgotten how to swim.
"It's happening," its mother gushed in the slurpy language of the planet. She held her hand to her flat, wide chest.
The creature splashed through the surface and clung to the lip of the tank. The gurgle that emitted from it was a sick string of sputtering burps interrupted by a sharp wheezing. It gasped and clawed its way out until it fell forward and plopped to the floor in a tangle of green limbs.
Moon scanned the audience to see if anyone would attempt to save the thing that was obviously dying. No one moved except to place a hand over mouth to cover their awe.
"Precious, isn't it?" Teeno leaned closer to the woman on his right as she fanned her face with a delicate hand, blowing back tears that pooled under her bright eyes.
The swampling's arms and legs twitched as it gagged. It reached out again toward Moon, its hands raised above its head as it coughed out slimy bubbles. The little pearls dribbled down its chin until, with a final weak exhale, it slumped to the ground, motionless.
Moon grimaced. It died. He wondered if this would somehow be pinned on him since he was apparently the last thing the little beast showed interest in. As he calculated how to adjust the rescue mission to include the slaughter of each individual in the room, he noticed black lines slice across the yellow, pasty gullet of the creature. The skin of its throat curled back. Brown ooze trickled out. Its chest heaved with the intake of one enormous gasp.
"The First Breath!" Teeno clinked his glass with the woman nearby and she returned it, tears dripping over her delicate pink cheeks. He turned to tap the rim of his glass against Moon's but Moon was lost in the revolting sight of the swampling bleeding green sludge through the slots in its throat. "Here's to life!"
Those around him erupted. "To life!"
It was time to get to work.
Arms of different sizes, shapes, and textures struck the air, the glasses and various beverages glittering against the steady crystal lights of the ceiling. Moon scanned each, noting the costume and color of the individual party-goer in the congested room that already suffocated him as if it was the air from a dying man's anus. He tapped the gold plate at his left temple. Information sped through the metal embedded in his head and appeared in perfectly formatted code through his gold socket. The scan finished in a few nanoseconds. He found exactly what he needed.
He nodded, one diminutive movement to Teeno. Got it.
One guest, one whom Moon did not expect—a humanoid of short stature who appeared more as an Earth toad than person, held out a his glass, pulling back the sleeve of his red coat, exposing the gold band squeezing his pudgy wrist. He was Juno's man.
The gold-dealing, self-proclaimed Empress hid her rapacious cronies in most corners of the galaxy. At noteworthy events of high society, her bangles dangled from the wealthiest skins. Moon was surprised there was merely one in attendance that night.
But there he was.
He had a few moments to act before Juno's mindless army came to crash the party.
"Phase One." Moon whispered, nodding toward the exit.
"Already? But look! The little guy's really on a roll." Teeno pointed, at the swampling who was on its back, gulping at the air. It's yellow eyes opened and found Moon again. Upside down, it reached out to grab in his direction.
All heads turned toward Moon and Teeno.
"Phase One. Now." Linking his arm through his blue-coated patron's, Moon dragged the chipper man toward the exit. From the corner of his eye, he watched the toad draw one fat finger along the gold band snug in his wrist.
It was his call to her.
They'd have seconds before the Guilded Legion would arrive and slay each bedazzled guest where they stood. Cocktail and all.
Moon and Teeno split the crowd, slamming shoulders against the guests who shrieked in outrage.
Moon's chest heaved. The infected, clear skin covering his ribs itched in a way that made him imagine atoms splitting. It meant one thing—
Juno.
She was near.
The patches of his quilted hide always reacted when she was close. Especially the pus-colored slab over his heart—that one was the worst. The sensation was akin to tugging—as if the entire expanse of his chest was hooked on her line and she pulled the string on the other end. He fought the pull. He lowered his head and suppressed the urge to follow it.
"Moon! Slow down! Where are we—" Teeno stumbled, dropping his drink as they arrived at the door.
Before Moon touched the handle, their exit blew away. The enormous doors flew from their hinges as a gold wave emerged on the other side, their golden spears poised to strike.
The smooth jingling of upper-crust socializing immediately exploded into shrieks and shattering glass. The panicked rush of the wealthy became uglier, messier, more brutal than a herd of stampeding Satyrs in a porcelain museum. They flipped furniture and turned on friends, clawing at hair and garments for a few seconds' advantage. Moon checked over his shoulder. The mother and father of the breathday child scooped it up and carried it away from the jeweled mob that crushed one another under their party shoes with unapologetic vigor.
"Captain Shin-Hyun Moon, come with us," said the first Guilded Legionnaire to walk through the door. The point of his spear pressed against Moon's brown lapel. "Juno desires a word with you."
"There isn't a single word I'd like to share with her." With the pad of his black-gloved finger, he pushed the spear tip off his chest. "Actually. There may be one word. And it begins with the letter 'C'."
The Guilded in the room rumbled with a single growl. The spear point returned to his chest and rose until it prodded at his neck, scraping against his Adam's apple. "You will choke on your insults when I pierce your throat. Return the algorithms. Cease your illegal production of her gold. Live the rest of eternity in humiliated defeat. This is what our glorious Empress requires." The spear tip sank deeper into the fleshy part of his jugular, drawing a line of blood that trickled down into Moon's black shirt.
At his side, Teeno perked up. Slowly and with utmost poise, as in all things Teeno does, he unlatched the middle button of his jacket and exposed the two pistols at his side. He swiped a finger along the length of each barrel, tickling the alloy, quietly activating them.
"Keep your hands up," the Guilded ordered, his eyes averted from Moon's.
Moon grabbed the spear at his throat in a tight fist. He grit his teeth, and twisted the spear until the head bent back, facing its handler.
Within seconds, Teeno drew the pistols out and aimed them at the mass of golden soldiers. He radiated tranquility as he pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, blasting the agate beams into the mass of golden soldiers. They fell as each shot scorched them in the sweet-spot above the breastplate. "Give the cankerous bitch our most loving regards."
Free at last, Moon opened his own jacket and pulled out a single gold rod from the breast pocket. With the rod in one hand, he thrust it to the side, springing it into its full length.
The Guilded, as one unit, of what Moon counted to be fifty or so, dropped into offensive formation. They rocked back and forth on golden boots, their sharpened spears poised over iridescent cuffs on their forearms.
Moon jabbed first. He swerved around, slamming his weapon over the three points targeting his chest. He danced with each opponent as they approached, cutting through their lines as he swung. He slashed their necks, streaking their breastplates with crimson. They gurgled on hot blood before dropping.
The Guilded relentlessly invaded the room. While many fell dead, more pushed from behind. Moon and Teeno were surrounded, spears pointed between their eyes.
"Phase Two." Moon put his gloved finger to his mouth and bit the tip. He slipped his hand out, smoke unfurling as his smoldering skin reacted to the boggy air. He gripped the golden spear in his hand. To the amazement of the Gilded, the spot around his palm began to glow hot red. The rising heat spread until tendrils of smoke curled around the spearhead.
"Phase Two." Teeno echoed, unhinging new clips from the holster at his back. He reloaded his pistols, swiveling on new attachments to the elongated barrels. The shining agate blue at their side glimmered against the lights of the massive party room. He pulled a white bubble from his jacket pocket that suctioned to the skin covering his nose and mouth. It fogged with his breath.
Poised, the fiery red spear in his hands, Moon charged. He sliced off his enemies' heads with a single stroke as if cutting through soft butter. He eased back on his heels in satisfaction for his work as the corpses plunked to the ground.
A whiff of the meaty smell from roasting human flesh clutched him. No matter how many decades he was forced to endure the smell, it always derailed him. His gut churned as he quelled the nausea.
He glared at Teeno who fought, unaffected by the stench.
Teeno's blasts streaked as if they were stars zipping by at hyper-speed. In his blasé manner as if this whole night was part of an elite finishing school exam, Teeno stepped forward, guns blazing, maniacal joy radiating through his icy gray eyes.
Moon followed, impaling another three Guilded at his side. The agonized groans crescendoed as he swiped left. He ripped them open and smirked as their intestines spilled out to the floor from the smoking maw at their sides.
Rows of gold soldiers in ancient Roman armor waned. Ten Guilded stood between him, Teeno, and Phase Three.
Moon doubled over—a chilling rush gripped him by the chest, shredding his skin.
It was a pain like being dunked in glacial water. Like lying naked in a thunderstorm of hot coals. Like falling face-down on a bed of kitten teeth. Moon succumbed to the searing pain. The gel covering his heart—the gel Juno surgically inserted to create her perfect, loyal man—spasmed as something outside his body, outside the room, seized control. He couldn't stop his head from flinging forward, smashing against the floor as his arms swung backward, his hands apart and behind him. His spear clattered to the ground and rolled away, knocking against the corpse of a Guilded. The sizzle of flesh and the smell of cooked human faded into a foggy background.
In his peripherals, he watched Teeno's shadow fight for a few more seconds until the blunt end of a spear smashed against his beautiful forehead. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
"Wrap Moon's hands," said a gruff voice from above. Moon struggled to break the hold of whatever force kept him low. "And be careful not to touch them. Reticulan skin. You'll burn."
A Guilded approached Moon and shoved large sacks around his wrists. The stiff leather mittens rendered him incapable of grasping his spear. Of wringing golden necks. Of flicking off smug dictators.
***
The trek to the ship stretched for ages. Moon imagined another couple of centuries had inched along before they actually made it to the Olympi. The closer they marched toward the ship, the more vigorously his different patches reacted.
The orange and green skin over his shoulder stretched—tense and focused on forcing him to experience every smell, sound, and touch of the opulent ship. It was taut with pleasure at being reunited with its home.
The blue scales running down the back of his neck rose. They pumped his body with catastrophic levels of adrenaline he couldn't access when under Juno's control.
The machinery that replaced his skeleton jittered in its sockets.
The only enhancement that remained silent was the tiny jewel she had inserted between the vertebrae below his skull. It had no reason to rejoice. Its singular function was to translate. It was useless here. Moon knew Juno's language. His brain would never let him forget the messages her body sent when she curled her plush leg around his. He'd never forget the scrape of plump lips against his cheek that murmured his praise and damnation. He'd never lose the secrets they shared when her fingers traced across the contours of his abdomen. Thus, the translator remained dormant as it lazily hitched a ride back to the woman who placed it there five hundred years ago.
They arrived at the brig. Their guards threw Teeno's limp body to the floor, his head slapping against the stone. Moon fell in after him. The skin over his chest compelled him to return to his kneel, rendering him impotent again.
As if an invisible fist unfurled its fingers from his body, he felt her grip recede. Tendril by tendril, he regained functionality. He stood, shaking off the remnants of the stiff hold.
The jail was exactly as he remembered. Cold and beautiful. It was a row upon row of cages, each guest secluded from the other by thick walls of snow-white marble and deep black veins. The black titanium bars, the only other alloy Juno allowed on her ship, matched the interior of each cell. Moon guessed if Teeno was awake, he'd appreciate the aesthetic.
Moon then realized he spent too much time with Teeno.
Hands bound, friend incapacitated, weapons gone—there was little to do but initiate Phase Four.
He approached the bars of the cell and leaned into them.
The Guilded surrounding the jail didn't move as he pressed his forehead on the cool metal. When they faced him to admonish his proximity to the bars, Moon snarled. They returned to their previous conversation.
He pressed his cheek against the door and turned his attention to the lifeless playboy awkwardly splayed on the ground. With the usual peacockish absurdity completely absent, Moon found it difficult to recognize him. Mangled by dust and lacking his usual self-assurance, Teeno, for the first time, appeared like a vulnerable clump of human beef.
With the joy of witnessing his employer in such a pathetic condition, Moon returned his attention to the mission. As his hands were still restrained behind him, he backed away from the titanium bars and bashed his head against them three times.
A sombre echo responded from somewhere within the long corridor.
He waited.
The echo added three more soft pangs.
Phase Four—initiated.
Crouching over his unconscious friend, Moon blew back strands of silver hair covering Teeno's forehead. The bruise morphed into something dark and aggressive. It marred the smooth, youthful face like a black hole in silken space.
Moon groped his own back with the clumsy use of the thick sacks around his hands, untucking his shirt from his brown leather pants. The expanse of disfigured flesh presented the foul rainbow of his self-inflicted upgrades. He thought of it as a disfigured checkerboard quilt that commemorated his dark adventures around the galaxy—like a scrapbook.
Teeno collected treasure. Moon collected adaptations.
He swiped at the palate, testing for a specific, jagged square.
When he believed he was at the right spot, he concentrated. He concentrated hard, closing his single eye and bearing down, clenching his muscles around the area above his kidneys. The sick squelch of the gelatinous secretions popped from his skin's thick pores.
This would be enough.
Backing up until his mittens were leveled with Teeno's face, he smeared the gel off with the wide paddle on his hand, buttering Teeno's forehead with the goo. Not sure why, he did his best to avoid the strands of silver hair falling over lightly shut eyes.
"You idiot," Moon said, still rubbing in the slime. "I hope this leaves a scar." He turned around and stooped farther to blow on the affected area, solidifying the liquid to crystal shards.
The rhythm of the Guilded's march pulled his attention away. Their cadence patterned the stillness of the frigid room. The sound built power, built tension, built excitement until they arrived in front of Moon who greeted them with bent head and rank hatred peeking through his hair still smeared with blood.
"Juno will receive you now."
Moon remained statuesque as the Guilded roughed him up.
When they clasped his shoulder, he spun around to snap at them, clicking his teeth together and making an attempt to bite their hands. The guards shoved him away as if it was possible to catch whatever quirk it was that made their prisoner so monstrous, so inhumane. They simmered in awkward uncertainty as Moon guffawed from the floor.
Eventually, the solders' anger overtook their shame. They resumed their orders, pulling and pushing him through the ornate, gold-filled halls of the decadent bowels of the Olympi.
Moon remembered this exact route he took the day he was abducted from Earth and brought to bow as a slave before Juno, the one who saved him from whatever disgusting fate he would have suffered at the hands of other masters. His trek followed the exact course from five hundred years before where he witnessed incomparable beauty woven with unparalleled power. His cock twitched when he thought about Juno in her sheer dress, legs spread open as she dominated the room. He was paraded through the halls of the ship with his tented pants on display—just like that day long ago.
The stinging eucalyptus of her oils struck from behind the enormous closed doors of her throne room. As his mind shuffled through the memories of her blissful aroma, he forced himself to stuff the unbidden sigh back down his throat. He remembered the taste of the oils from when he'd spend nights licking it off her knees as she reclined, languidly resting her legs against his chest.
The throne room sparkled with more grandiose than he remembered. She'd redecorated. Enormous marble pillars draped in gold banners lined the vast space. Gold cherubs held the metallic fabric in their chubby hands. Their mirthless grins would have been terrifying to any other visitor of the Olympi, but Moon recognized their permanent mania as something akin to his own. Over her great chair, the scene of Paris of Troy and the goddesses with the challenge of the golden apple glittered above them. In this re-imagined rendition, Venus and Minerva despaired.
Directly below the image, Juno lounged.
She draped her body over the ornate furniture like a dark, starless night over dusk-dusted terrain. Her skin gleamed through the sheer white of her thin dress. Gold fillets criss-crossed over the blood-red braids piled high on her head, complimenting the gold strands embedded in her skin. The embellishments wove up her arms and swirled around her shoulders. Metallic powder burst from around her eyes and lips. Across those brightly framed lips, a dark grin emerged. She raised a finger to beckon him over.
As always, he obeyed.
"My Little Moon. Juno has missed you." She leaned to one side of her throne, her chin resting against her knuckle as she crossed her legs.
"Juno." Moon rocked on his heels. "I can't say I've felt the same."
"Still so bitter—why do you hold on to these weak grudges? Juno does not regret deserting you. You were feeble. Pathetic. You did not deserve to be at Juno's side."
"I recall this being exactly what you wanted me to be."
"Juno did not create the creature you were back then. You've changed, my Little Moon. You've grown stronger. You've learned to fight back. You've stolen my algorithms. You've proven Juno did not fully understand her creation."
He shifted his weight to the other foot, preparing for Juno's first strike against him.
A bargain.
She had a knack for offering him everything he never knew he desired until it came from her lips. It was especially difficult to deny her anything when those lips were wrapped around his finger as she made her offers.
At least this time, his fingers were free. Sort of.
Juno uncrossed her legs and pushed herself from the throne. On bare feet, she gracefully descended the white marble steps. Her dress draped over her supple form, clinging to the curve of her breasts and hips as she neared. Already, Moon's hatred was snuffed to a flicker. She intoxicated him. His grip chipped away with the taste of the electric charge in the air around her, with the stinging scent of her eucalyptus-anointed skin—he stopped breathing if only to provide himself with a slight advantage.
She halted inches from him.
Moon lifted his eyes from her chest to her soft face, her sharp jawline, and precise brow.
God, she was magnificent.
With sheer force of will, he restrained his hands to his side. Otherwise, they'd grab her, lower her face to his so he could kiss her. He would wrap his arms around her body and lap at her dark skin with a dutiful tongue like he did for centuries when he called the Olympi his home.
"Moon," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his, the warmth of her words chilling his body as if she'd grabbed hold of his implant again. "Join Juno. Be her god."
And just like that, Captain Shin-Hyun Moon was undone.
His mechanical bones popped from their sockets.
His arm broke backwards at the elbow.
His legs caved under him, cracking at the knees.
His spine doubled over at the middle, cleft in half.
His neck twisted, each vertebrae dislodging from the other.
His skin and muscles sagged without the support of a stable skeleton.
He crumpled.
Moon writhed on the beautiful marble floor, refusing to scream despite agony ripping through his body with each violent spasm of his bones. Juno stepped back and observed. The Guilded sprinted to guard her from the malfunctioning man as he convulsed. She paused them with one extended hand and returned to her placated position as audience to Moon's torture.
At last, a single roar erupted from his throat when his head bent back, dislocating from his spine. "Is this the man you wanted?" His question burst from him before his jaw broke off as well.
She didn't answer. But Moon remembered how the air around Juno shifted when she was pleased with herself. She seemed to be enjoying the show.
Around the rattling bones and sagging flesh, somewhere deep inside the monster, there was enough of Captain Shin-Hyun Moon still present to remember that particular nuance. He was pissed.
Her pleasure brought him back to reality one tendon at a time. She never wanted him as an equal. She wanted him as a toy. As a pet. As someone she could mow over when she saw him exhibit any weakness. With this knowledge, Moon regained enough of his control to order his bones back into formation.
In the distance, the doors of the throne room burst open.
Phase Five.
Two blurry pillars—one blue and one white—stampeded the room. They blasted the Guilded back. It became necessary for Moon to gather his bones back together more quickly if he wanted to retreat from the fucking nightmare of being in Juno's presence again.
"Guilded! To me!" Juno shouted to her men. They immediately formed a fortress around her.
The blue blur, easily recognizable as a dirty Teeno, and the white blur continued shooting into the room until they reached Moon. "You are the master of the ship," Teeno said as he grabbed Moon's arm to heave him up. "You hold the helm."
Moon clutched his head as Teeno lifted. He squeezed on the flaming pain coursing through his temples as he tightened his anatomy, each bone righting itself until he was able to shove the helping hand away. "Get the fuck off me, Teeno."
The white blur approached his side and slapped his tender shoulder. "I told you it would work, you old fool. Six steps. I knew it was all you needed. You owe me so much! I am going to be rich beyond my wildest—"
"Yes, Nuna. Keep bringing up all the reasons why I should leave your ass here."
The blur sharpened into focus. The woman with darker-than-night skin adorned with the starchy white shift of the ship's slave garb, presented Moon's long, brown coat to him, his row of golden rods clanging around the breast pocket within. He slipped his arms through when she held it open for him and freed his hands of the cumbersome sacks.
They heard Juno bellow from her throne room, demanding their arrest.
Teeno followed behind. They sprinted through the ship as if they knew the beast intimately. Right, left, another left, through the massive ports until they reached the docks. Guilded met them head-on. Nearly one hundred this time. They ran toward the three, spears out, screaming their battlecries for Juno.
Pain tore at the skin across Moon's ribs. He groaned, clenched his teeth and yowled in the same tortured moans of an animal mid-slaughter.
I am the master of my ship, he asserted, tearing his shirt to scraps. He clawed at it, desperate to rip out the afflicted skin with his nails. He exposed his chest, the transparent hide pulsing in a different beat of the visible heart underneath. Return to the helm. I am the master of my ship. Return to the helm. I am the master of my ship. . .
His mantra, the trick to his usual composure, became as significant as pissing into a monsoon and attempting to distinguish one stream from the other.
The tranquility of his imagined deck did nothing to divert the pain of Juno's grip around his body. She caught him as she would capture a little bird in her slender hands, her fingers caging it until she squeezed, squeezed, squeezed tighter, popping the head right off its delicate neck.
Teeno and Nuna waged war without him and held the ranks for a while, smiling into the danger until a swarm of gold flooded the corridor. The mechanisms in his metal eye calculated the outcome of their survival. Pain flared over his chest and through his head as he watched numbers scroll through the scenarios—all with high probability of immediate death.
Moon had never been more enraged in his life.
Juno stole his home, maimed his body, and desecrated his humanity—he wasn't about to let her kill his fucking friends too.
Rage struck against the pain like flint on lighter fluid. It rushed through his veins as he took one vast gulp of air and bellowed into the hall. He pounded his chest with a tightly clenched fist. Fury pulsed harder and louder, pumped by adrenaline from the blue scales on his neck. His hatred for Juno, for the Olympi, for the ways she mutilated him until he became an entirely new monster born from her labs, snapped Captain Moon's body back in line with his mind.
Hate drove out her control, evicting her at last. She dissipated, floating away like particles swept up in a retreating sandstorm. When the final tether broke, his regular sense of blissful emptiness returned.
Hollow, filled by nothing, he thrilled at being no more than a pulse surrounded by an eclectic shell again.
Moon returned to his mental deck where he placed his full hand on his imaginary helm. He planned to drive the god-damned ship right over Juno's face.
He blinked, reached into his breast pocket and extracted his weapon. The spear sprung to life. Once more, he heated it until the long rod shone as if it was an errant solar flare he'd captured with his bare hands.
Teeno raised his pistols as Nuna hefted a canon to her shoulder.
Moon did a double-take. "I told you not to bring the canon." he snapped. "Where the hell were you hiding it?"
"Never ask a girl where she hides her canons." Nuna shoved her hand into the grip under its base and bent her knees in preparation for kickback.
She fired. Enormous balls of steely blue blazed through the incoming Guilded. Teeno's pistols sparked next to her, picking off the soldiers one at a time. Moon stepped into the line of barbaric warriors strung-out on Juno's command. He planned to skewer them all. The sizzle of the spear slicing through their guts harmonized with the electric charge of the cannon on his left. The three barrelled by with enough speed to escape the putrid stench of burning bowels before it crippled them.
With Moon, Teeno, and Nuna reunited at last, the universe trembled under their siege. They freed themselves of their captors' pitiful defense and rushed to the ship's loading bay. If Juno attempted to regain control of her creation, Moon never felt it. Not even a tickle.
"Drop the rags, Teeno. It's time to suit up." Nuna wandered to a corner of the dock and uncovered her starboard and two bundles of black material from an innocuous pile of clutter. Without preamble, she threw the dirty white shift of Juno's slaves over her head and dropped into a skin-tight darksuit. Teeno made quick business of his own clothes, shrugging off his soiled formal wear for the stretchy, black material.
Moon stood sentry, allowing them to dress while he monitored the entrance to the bay.
"Phase six!" Nuna dropped the enormous, flat, oval board to the floor, the pointed end facing the open galaxy. Sliding her finger around the edges, it lifted, hovering a foot above the ground, teetering on three fins and twin jets that dropped from its belly. Everyone stepped on. Moon and Teeno occupied the front. They sat cross legged and pulled at the leashes to cuff around their arms.
"Stupidest way to travel. Can you please acquire a real method of transportation so we don't look like idiots flying around on a magical rug?" Moon scooted forward to avoid Teeno's pointed boots from stabbing him in the ass.
Nuna boarded behind them. Kneeling, she stretched her fingers through the webbed gloves of her suit. "Why can't you ever just admit you're having fun?"
A fresh wave of Guilded stormed the dock behind them. They swarmed the enormous room, closing in on the trio.
"Paddle out! Let's go! Paddle!" Teeno whirled his finger around the air in a panic.
The echo of fifty pairs of golden-clad feet belonging to fifty enraged soldiers powered by a single golden demon charged forward, their fifty sharpened spears speeding toward the exposed backs of the trio. The expression about sitting ducks immediately sprung to Moon's mind.
He was ready to leap off the starboard to push them out, hoping they'd swing around to pick up the only living being who was capable of whipping their vessel into shape when Nuna leaned forward, scooping the air with her hands.
As the sharpened tip of a spear grazed the back of her long neck encased in the slinky material of the blacksuit, the starboard shot forward.
Checking over his shoulder to make sure no shiny buffoon was on their ass, Moon exhaled, glad to discover no one behind them.
Nuna dipped her hands through the darkness and pushed them along until the Olympi was simply a large blob amid a cluster of smaller, more innocuous blobs. She stood and detached the paddle from under her feet. With her heel on the trigger, she activated the jets that would propel them through open space. Using the paddle, she guided the board as they cruised along the stars.
Teeno fell over himself, relaxing against Moon, hysterical over the near-death escape.
Moon shoved him away.
The bubbles over Teeno and Nuna's mouths clouded with moist breath from their laugher. Captain Moon spent the entirety of the trip glad the bubbles allowed them to rejoice silently as he appreciated the dense quiet without their frivolous nattering. He'd be on the receiving end of it with more frequency now that Nuna would be around.
Moon caught a glimmer in the distance. It began as miniscule as a flickering star radiating heat from thousands of light years away. As they sped along, the speck grew larger and more oblong. Nuna steered them straight toward the long, sleek ship with luminous blue agate inlays reflecting starlight.
The HMS Valediction. Home.
The rest of the mighty crew welcomed them with cheers. Many ran into Nuna's arms to greet the emaciated woman, fussing over her lanky limbs and protruding bones when she jumped from her starboard and kicked it on its side, gripping it under her arm.
***
Later that evening in Teeno's private cabin, the three debriefed. His private rooms sparkled with treasures that he looted from the numerous cities they'd raided together around the galaxy. Just as the many times before, Moon, Teeno, and Nuna met to share a drink, to discuss the triumphs of recent events, and to compare notes about the galaxy's whispers.
Back in his formal coat and pristine glory, Teeno poured sparkling amber liquid in crystal glasses for his guests. He took his position in the blue-satin seat, sniffing the dark beverage under his stately nose, inhaling the pungent fumes of the finest closest-thing-to-whisky he could find. Silence settled between the three until Teeno couldn't contain his spirit any longer. "To Nuna! Our resident tactician—for her unparalleled strength of genius, spirit, and will."
"To Nuna," Moon repeated without hiding his acerbic sting. "The imbecilic spy who will probably die in some moronic fashion from a snag in one of her idiotic plans. May she live to prove me right."
She took a glass for herself. "To Teeno! Whose courage and ego we cannot help but stroke because he's just too damn pretty."
Teeno waved her off, blushing furiously.
"If you're done petting each other, I'd like to hear about the actual information," Moon said as he swirled the caramel liquid around his cup. He drowned his glass in one swift pull while reaching for the decanter. The crystal top popped off when he swatted at it and clinked to the floor. "Are the rumors true?"
Nuna hunched forward in her seat, her elbows resting on skinny knees that didn't fill out her pants the way they used to. After suffering on the Olympi undercover as a gold-cooker, Moon was surprised she wasn't more frail. Her high cheekbones were more pronounced than before. Her arms that used to bulge through her shirtsleeves were lost in the jacket that perfectly matched Teeno's.
"It's true. Earth is being evacuated," she said.
"The whole thing? How is that possible? What is the population at—a few trillion?" Teeno leaned closer.
"At least twenty thousand."
A heavy hush fell over the room. None veered their concentration away from whatever corner it had landed on when the news hit.
"What happened?" Teeno's voice came out choked. He had never revisited Earth or even thought about the home planet for a long time. But hearing the globe and how its people were practically endangered enshrouded him in a rarely experienced sobriety.
"Genocide, but I couldn't make discovery on the culprits. According to my source, there are approximately twenty thousand Earthen hiding out in some hole in the ground and are about to be transported out. They're headed to Lorit Neb."
Shattering crystal broke the intensity. The shards rained over Moon's boot as he growled into the spotted carpet, remnants of the cup and the liquid dripping over his black-gloved hand. "Are they trying to go extinct? What shit-scheming disaster-engineer formed that plan? Even your phases make more sense than this clusterfuck of a solution."
Nuna provided no answer.
"How are they even able to cruise all the way to an opposite system?" Moon blurted out. "I doubt they possess that kind of travel technology yet."
"They're being transported in nine ships."
The three contemplated the news, each flitting through various paths as to what would become of the remaining people of Earth.
"There's something else," Nuna said, resting her glass on the table at her side. "There's a tenth ship."
"Why are only nine ships slated to arrive at the purple penal piss-hole?" Moon asked, still glowering at the floor.
The sputtering of Teeno's low chuckle climbed the heaviness in the room until some of the tension dissolved. His glimmering eyes and shiny jacket added to the sparkle of inescapable humor he used to corral his comrades to his side. Of course, Nuna was usually the single member of the trio to fall victim to it.
"Moon, my dear." Teeno made a show of swirling his drink. "Do you really believe that anything in this galaxy is free?"
"What kind of an asinine question is that?" Moon stiffened. If anyone knew the price the galaxy extracted from its favors, it was most notably him. He itched the ever-dry patch of blue with the bite mark on his thigh.
Nuna held up ten fingers to demonstrate. "There are ten ships total. Nine will be safely escorted to their new home in the viable but notoriously hostile planet away from whatever species destroyed their own terrain." She bent her pinky. "One will not. The math is not difficult, my captain." She raised her brow, now fully engrossed in Teeno's line of thinking.
Moon caught the payday glee smeared across her lips.
Teeno leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, his eyes alight with the prospect of a bountiful haul. "This will be our biggest raid to-date. Ledi!" he called into the cabin.
"Yes, sir?" the echoing voice of a disembodied man in Teeno's same crisp London accent responded. "How may I assist?"
"Calculate. How will—what do you think?" Teeno turned to Nuna. "A population of twenty thousand evenly divided by ten . . . most likely they'll split evenly—Ledi, calculate. How much will production level increase with additional two thousand hands?"
"One-hundred and six percent production increase, sir."
Teeno clapped his hands together, his lithe legs lifting off the ground as he rocked back and forth in his seat. A wide, white grin flashed over Nuna's face, her large, brilliant teeth shining behind the thoughtful bob of her head.
They turned toward Moon, but he couldn't fully processed what they were so jolly about. More Earthen aboard the HMS Valediction meant more liabilities. More gold-cooking slaves at market meant more security, more attendance, more life lost, more probability that Juno would arrive with the full force of her Guilded to ensure Moon's marauding miscreants didn't raid another market before she had a chance to get her greedy hands on it. "Let's do it. If only so I get to see the look on Juno's face when we swipe the whole lot of them out from under her."
Teeno rolled his eyes. "Good Lord, man. You're obsessed."
Just as Moon's indignant retort formed on his tongue and he was about to let it fly at his patron, Nuna rested her hand on his arm. "To Moon," she said, raising her glass. "For without his perplexing preoccupation to see the unconditional ruination of his ex-lover, we would not be filthy rich."
Teeno raised his glass as well. "I can drink to that!"
Moon allowed half a groaning sigh to escape. "To Juno's fury."
The chime of three crystal glasses echoed throughout the cabin, mingling among the sudden silence that occupied the three as they dreamed separate dreams of all their desires fulfilled at last. "To Juno's fury."
********
"First Breath, Last Resort" is a spin-off from the ARC10 trilogy. Moon, Teeno, and Nuna will appear in book 2 of the series, HMS Valediction, coming to Wattpad in the fall of 2018. Book 1, ARC10, is complete and available on @LLMontez 's profile.
The first installment of Moon's history with Juno, "Moon Rise" can be found on @IanRCooper 's profile under the Noir anti-hero anthology Take Away the Saints.