Back when he had been in medical school, a torturous thing that saw more drop out casualties than graduates, Jaejoong had pulled sixteen, sometimes seventeen hour shifts. As an intern, there’d been at least ten hours walking the floor, four or five spent with his nose in a book, and whatever time left over was dedicated to practicing on both medical dummies and the computer sims, perfecting his techniques.

And all of this had been done with little to no sleep, without lingering effects.

Now, out of his internship, past his residency, and as a fully decorated surgeon, Jaejoong found himself struggling to get through twelve hour days.

It was possible the past was catching up with him, or that he was simply getting older.

Regardless, the days felt longer, his feet hurt more frequently, and double or triple shifts at a time were starting to leech away the color from his skin.

But then there were the moments, the big ones sprinkled in between the smaller ones, that made Jaejoong feel like he had the best, most important job in the world. Moments where he challenged himself, pulled off deemed impossible miracles, and saved actual lives. The job could be monotonous, filled with runny noses and hovering parents. But it could also be awe inspiring.

Moments like these.

“Here we go,” Jaejoong announced, hand poised at the ready. He extended a careful finger, gave the nurse next to him a steady nod, and reached into the tiny cavern in front of him.

A machine nearby gave a soft, clicking sound, there was a collective gasp of air held, and Jaejoong ran his finger firmly against the tiny baby’s heart. The baby, a one year old that Jaejoong had been caring for since its delivery, was sometimes the only thing keeping him going when he was dead on his feet. When he’d just pulled a fifteen hour shift, hadn’t eaten in twice as long, and was lacking enough sleep to keep him going any longer, he’d go down to the nursery, to the special care ward, and sit in front of the baby’s incubator. He’d sit in front of James Bartholomew Risler, and marvel at the tenacity of life.

Jaejoong closed his eyes, his finger massaging the muscle more intensely. Come on, he pleaded silently. There’d be no putting the baby back on the machine. If his newly transplanted heart didn’t begin to beat on its own within the next few seconds, keeping the baby alive would be next to impossible.

James had been a fighter since his birth, and long through his heart failure. Jaejoong couldn’t possibly imagine him giving up now. Jaejoong wouldn’t allow it.

“Doctor,” a nurse whispered.

“One more second,” Jaejoong pleaded, searching desperately for any hint that the surgery was a success. Anything at all.

Then miraculously, as if the gods themselves had heard his plea, the tiny heart jumped under Jaejoong’s finger. Then it jumped again, and again, and a monitor whirred to life measuring the beats, projecting a healthy beat count and sending a whoop of joy through the operating room.

“There we go,” Jaejoong sighed out happily, grinning down at the little boy. “I knew you’d make it.”

Jaejoong hadn’t lost a baby in three years, the longest record yet for someone in his field, and the other nurses and doctors regarded him as somewhat beyond a gifted surgeon in that regard. Parents bought their children from the Core to the Rim, just for his life saving techniques, and he delivered them results. It was possible some of his colleagues believed he’d never lost a baby period, but of course that was a lie.

On his first rotation as an intern, Jaejoong had watched an infant pass so suddenly that nothing could be done. And his very first surgery as a resident had seen a baby bleed out from a ruptured vessel, something that was Jaejoong’s mistake. He had lost plenty of children over the years, their lives weighing on him like tiny stones building to a mass of something so impossible to lug around at times he felt like stumbling, falling, and not getting back up.

It was a mere fluke that he hadn’t lost a baby in three years.

And surgeons seemed to have very short memories, in Jaejoong’s opinion, especially when he was brining the hospital accolades that they benefited from with his revolutionary techniques and life saving record.

“Okay, Lee,” Jaejoong said, taking a step back and nodding at the young doctor next to him. “Go ahead and close him up. You confident you can do that?”

The young resident, a first year and one of six Jaejoong had on his rotation, stepped forward without hesitation and with calm confidence. “I know I can, sir,” he said, and there was a crinkle to his eyes that told Jaejoong he’d be spreading around what had just happened to the other interns within the hour.

Stepping out of the operating room Jaejoong pulled at his scrubs, wiped away the sweat on his forehead and went to find the baby’s parents. Telling them the good news, after so many months of waiting for a compatible replacement heart to be grown on the hospital’s laboratory, was like sweet music.

He had two patients to check on after the surgery, and a consult for a three year old just after the noon hour, but Jaejoong felt like he was floating on air as the hours passed. His fingers were twitching to get back into the operating room and do more good.

At seven, just as the sun was starting to go down, there was a message to his private comm from his father, reminding him to leave the hospital at a respectable time and be home for dinner. It was an odd message, one just as formal as always, but with a hint of a threat in it. There’d be hell to pay if he failed to show to the meal, and that meant his father had something important to share with him. Probably something he wouldn’t like.

“Making the rounds again, doctor?” a pretty, young brunette nurse asked him as he pushed through to the main area of the hospital, too much on his mind.

He hummed dismissively at her as he headed directly to the lift that would take him to the seventeenth floor. He couldn’t leave before checking on James one last time, but he also couldn’t dawdle.

Jaejoong could willingly admit that his father scared the life out of him. A hard, unflinching man, Jaejoong had grown up without so much as a kind word from him, and a slew of expectations. Expectations, apparently, that Jaejoong had never met. And if his father was to be believed, he’d been a disappointment from the start, too kind, too empathetic, and too quick to help others.

It was quite plain to see that his father had wanted a ruthless, meticulous and even apathetic heir to carry on the family business. He’d wanted a son who would follow him around with keen eyes, taking note of the often underhanded techniques used to conduct business, and accepting the belief that getting one’s hands dirty, sometimes with blood, was simply a byproduct of a competitive and lucrative system.

And to say that his father had been unhappy that he’d chosen to go into medicine, was an understatement. He still felt the bruises, from nearly a decade ago, that had been beaten into him when he refused to yield. To the day it was the only thing he’d ever fought his father on. It was the only thing he’d ever won against the man. And the broken arm afterwards, and the concussion, were battle wounds he wore proudly for the months afterwards.

It didn’t seem to matter that they called him gifted, or that he’d graduated in the top two percent of his class and finished his residency in half the time of his peers. His father had wanted a businessman. His father had wanted an economic strategist, not a life saver.

When baby James was confirmed to be safely sleeping in his cot, his new heart beating flawlessly, Jaejoong pulled his white coat from his shoulders and went to hail a cab. It was impossible to know if his mother would be expected for dinner as well. She’d gone on heavier medication as of late, and rarely left her bed.

He entered through the back entrance, swiping his thumbprint on the pad quickly and leaning down for a retina check. Using the back entrance ensured that he wouldn’t be prematurely accosted by his father, who deemed anything but the front door to be for the trash.

And he was up in his bedroom, locking the door behind him, before he could breathe a real sigh of relief. If dinner was likely at eight, he had just enough time to shower and change into a better suit than he’d worn to the hospital.

“You’re home,” a voice said from already in the room, but Jaejoong barely batted an eye.

“I know, before dark. It’s news worthy of the front page of the post tomorrow morning, wouldn’t you agree, Yoochun?”

Lounging on Jaejoong’s bed, looking utterly at home, was Jaejoong’s best friend. In many ways, Yoochun was more than simply a friend. He and Jaejoong were only slightly off in age, and had been raised together since childhood. Jaejoong could barely remember a point in his life when Yoochun hadn’t been there. Yoochun was as constant as a sunrise, and would continue to be so as long as Jaejoong’s father held his life contract.

One day Jaejoong would secure the contract. He’d take his friends life and give it back to him, and he wouldn’t be indentured any longer. He wouldn’t be little better than a slave. And he would be Jaejoong’s equal brother.

“I knew you would be,” Yoochun said, sitting up with a groan. “I bet your father sent you a nasty message warning you to be.”

Jaejoong pulled at his tie and agreed, “Of course he did. And I bet you know why.” He paused and frowned, “It’s not about my sister, is it?”

“Chorong?” Yoochun asked. He shook his head immediately, to Jaejoong’s relief. “No, it’s definitely about you. And it also has something to do with the guest your father is having over. By the way, he scares the crap out of me.”

Halfway to the bathroom door, and his shirt mostly ed, Jaejoong came to a stop and said slowly, “There’s a guest for dinner?”

Yoochun slid off of the bed quickly and padded across the soft carpet of the spacious room to Jaejoong’s side. “I saw him about an hour ago, from the window. And I peeked in on them in your father’s study. I mean it when I say he’s scary looking. It’s something in his eyes. It’s something in them that scares me to death.”

Quietly, Jaejoong asked, “Do you know who he is?’

“No.” Yoochun shook his head. “But I know he does business with your father. Something about exports to the Rim.”

The new information gave Jaejoong no comfort. His father had a monopoly on the export business from Helios to both the main Core planets and those in the Rim. With the Core planets he was forced to price fairly, and follow strictly enforced taxation. However when dealing with the Rim planets, the kind that often so desperately needed products and supplies, his father was manipulative and exploitative, and just downright unfair.

Yoochun hedged, “I can try to find out something about him. Maybe one of the servants who leave the house more frequently would know.”

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Jaejoong put a comforting hand on Yoochun’s shoulder and tried to force a smile. He wanted to do as little as possible to remind Yoochun that his freedom was often limited to the house, and had been since Jaejoong had finished his residency at the hospital. While some of the other indentured servants went frequently to the market, Yoochun spent his days cooped up in the house, caring for Jaejoong’s mother, doing his best to avoid the master of the house. “I supposed I’ll know who he is soon enough.”

Jaejoong ended up taking the longest shower he’d had in months. At twenty minutes it was a blissful paradise of warmth compared to the two, sometimes three minute ice cold showers he’d take at the hospital. Those were meant to not only clean him as quickly as possible, but also keep him awake.

When he exited the shower Yoochun had laid out the clothing he’d wear, and as he dressed, belting his pants and tucking in his shirt, his thoughts strayed back to the baby’s life that he had saved earlier in the day. James was alive. His tiny fighter baby had pulled through. And no matter what Jaejoong knew his father thought of his occupation, Jaejoong was determined not to let him take it away. There would be other doctors to perform other life saving operations, but Jaejoong wanted to be the one developing new techniques, refining the old ones, and saving the impossible babies that others gave up hope on.

“You look very handsome,” Yoochun said teasingly as he brushed off imaginary lint from Jaejoong’s shoulder. “Even your father is going to think so.”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes and headed towards the door to his room. “I’d hope so, Yoochun. He designed me this way.”

His father and the mystery guest were already in the dinning room by the time Jaejoong reached the first floor. Their mumblings were soft from the nearby foyer he stood in, and Jaejoong held his last bit of resistance from joining them as the clock on the wall ticked by the seconds. Whatever came next was going to be excruciatingly painful.

He was just reaching for the heavy double doors in order to announce himself when he heard his father mumble, “Come now, Kangwoo, I think at least fifteen. This isn’t such a tall order for you, is it? I thought your reach extended much further than a mere fifteen of the nearest to Tajo.”

Tajo, Jaejoong quickly placed, as a Rim planet relatively far out. It wasn’t recently terraformed, but certainly looked that way. Decidedly backwater, his father would call the planet.

His father’s guest, Kangwoo, gave a deep laugh. “Indeed my pockets are much deeper than yours, Jinho. However, fifteen is a lot to ask in return for something that will need to be tamed. Broken. Molded. I’ll have to put in significant work, you see, whereas you will profit immediately.”

Jaejoong leaned forward to press his ear to the door. He tried to listen to his father’s business deals as little as possible, but there was something about the entire conversation that was making him anxious.

“Broken?” Jaejoong’s father laughed. “Hardly, my friend. I’ve been able to beat less resistant out of a dog. You’ll find this is a case of more bark than actual bite.”

A floorboard behind Jaejoong squeaked and he spun, heart racing, to merely see Yoochun at the bottom of the nearby grand staircase. Jaejoong pressed a finger to his lips and turned his concentration back to the conversation.

“Yet,” Kangwoo was saying, “you allow him to flaunt your lack of control all over Helios’s underprivileged hospitals. He could be working in Persephone’s elite trauma center, but instead he’s providing charity to the more impoverished citizens of Helios.”

Him, Jaejoong realized, they were speaking about him.

“I do not let him do anything that does not serve my purpose,” his father said. “His work is a mere distraction that I allow for the sake of meetings such as this.”

Behind Jaejoong Yoochun hovered, a hand at the small of his back in a comforting fashion.

“Let me see his picture again.”

“He’ll be here to see in person in mere minutes.”

Kangwoo scoffed. “I prefer to have this settled before hand. The picture.”

Jaejoong could barely force himself to breathe as his father remarked, “He is quite beautiful. It’s surprising, Jinho, that you would choose such a beautiful face for your heir.”

Glassware clanked. “Beauty hides deception. It was my hope, but possibly your reality, that his beauty would fool any halfwit into a false sense of security. When men feel secure, they make mistakes. Had Jaejoong any sense, he’d have used his looks from the very beginning to profit this family.” His father exhaled loudly. “But in any case, you can see that he’s very attractive, appealing to both men and women, and worthy to stand at your arm during any function or party.”

“Oh, gods,” Jaejoong breathed out. They couldn’t possible be discussing …

“He looks a bit like my late wife,” Kangwoo observed loudly, probably plied with copious amounts of wine by now. “But don’t you have a daughter as well? Why attempt to trade your son to me? A daughter could give me heirs.”

“He means to sell me into marriage,” Jaejoong whispered viciously to Yoochun who wrapped him into a tight hug, holding him in place as much as protecting him. “He means to sell me.”

“You already have heirs,” Jaejoong’s father reminded. “And Chorong has already been promised to another. So I repeat to you, fifteen. Fifteen and he’s yours. This is a fair price.”

“Twelve,” the man haggled back. “You claim I won’t have to beat him, but his intelligence and ingenuity in perusing his own career path, instead of yours, proves otherwise.”

“Fourteen,” Jaejoong’s father shot back hotly. “I have no doubt you are very much capable of beating obedience into him. And your daughter is terminally ill, correct? Jaejoong’s skills as a doctor will make him twice as valuable to you in this regard. Fourteen.”

They were bartering his freedom away as if he were an animal. They were ripping apart who he was as a person, as a man, and it was so callously done that Jaejoong worried for his sanity.

“Shhh,” Yoochun soothed, but Jaejoong could feel him shaking too. Shaking with anger of fear or maybe some twisted combination,, but shaking nonetheless.

After a lengthy pause Kangwoo’s voice came back, thundering out, “Thirteen! And, Jinho, because you have always been a worth adversary to me, if your son proves to be as easy to handle as you claim a few well mannered beatings will produce, I’ll name you a fourteenth before the year is out.”

Jaejoong air in through clenched teeth, not finding there to be nearly enough.

Thirteen what? He was worth thirteen of what?

“Agreed,” his father said, and Jaejoong might have lost his footing under him if Yoochun hadn’t been there, bracing him up against the door, supporting the majority of his weight. “The export rights to the thirteen colonies located closest to Tajo, and a fourteenth to follow, I’m sure. Now, where is that damned boy? I imagine you’ll want to verify his looks and temperament before the ink is dry on the contract.”

Jaejoong twisted away from Yoochun in an instant. And with such a frantic need to get away, his foot caught the edge of a nearby rug and he stumbled, nearly falling to his knees before getting his balance back and surging forward for the stairs. He climbed them two, sometimes three at once, and while gasping for air, lunged back towards his bedroom.

He could hear Yoochun rushing after him, calling as loudly as he dared for Jaejoong to slow down and be careful.

Jaejoong did trip as soon as he reached his room, tumbling across the rugs in an uncoordinated fashion. His palms burned from the fall and his shoulders heaved. There were tears coming.

“Jae …” Yoochun said softly behind him, closing the door without sound.

“He’s going to sell me off,” Jaejoon said, still fighting to even out his breathing. “Like cattle. I’m no more to him than cattle.” Beautiful cattle. The kind that his father could rid himself of in return for a more economic opportunity. And the same would likely be no better for his sister.

This man, Kangwoo, whoever he was, would not abide things to be as they had been before. Jaejoong knew as much from merely hearing him talk. He’d be a harsher master than Jaejoong’s own father, and he would most certainly be a master. Jaejoong would be little more than a slave.

Worse than that, he’d be a slave purchased for his beauty, expected to warm a bed at night.

“I would rather die,” Jaejoong spat out, “than marry that man.”

And before Yoochun could stop him he was flying to the huge bay windows of his room, flinging them open and throwing a leg over.

“No!” Yoochun shouted, tackling him with disregard, dragging him back away from the window and wrestling him to the ground.

“Get off!” Jaejoong fought. “Get off of me right now. You have no idea--”

“What it’s like to be owned by someone else?” Yoochun challenged with a raised voice. “Get over yourself, Jaejoong. I know perfectly well what it’s like. I know what it’s like to be held captive, told when to eat and drink and and sleep and even what to think. I know what it’s like to get beat for something that isn’t your fault, and I know what it’s like to think that death is a better option. But I am not going to let you kill yourself. I am not going to let you even think about it.”

Jaejoong’s bedroom was on the third floor of the house. And while the drop alone might not kill him if he went feet first, though broken bones were likely, a head first dive would spell disaster. Jaejoong knew just the right way to fall, in order to maximize his chances of breaking his neck or spilling his gray matter out onto the cobblestones below.

“Don’t you presume--”

“Death,” Yoochun cut him off, “is not your only option.”

No, Jaejoong supposed. He could accept the marriage. He could go willingly and submissively and take his beatings with his husband’s marital rights. He could become a shell of who he was, never work again in a hospital, never save lives or be free. He could accept the hand fate had dealt him and go through with it.

“I choose death,” Jaejoong said, voice shaking. The fall would feel like an eternity, but he wouldn’t suffer. And at least he could die free. He could be free.

Yoochun leveled a heavy finger up at him. “You swear to me right now that you’ll never choose such a thing. Swear!”

Jaejoong watched him whip away before an answer could be given, and Yoochun moved instead to hunt through Jaejoong’s closet before pulling out his most recently purchased piece of luggage.

“What are you doing?” Jaejoong asked, climbing to his feet slowly. “Yoochun?”

Yoochun threw open the suitcase and began to fill it quickly with anything from the closet he could grab, s and slacks and vests. “Swear to me, Jaejoong,” he said, snapping the luggage closed when it was full. “Swear to me that you’ll never consider killing yourself again when there’s still the choice to live left.”

In the distance the sun was fully set and the house was close enough to the space port that Jaejoong could see the blinking lights of the spaceships. They were magnificent, and he’d spent a good deal of his nights as a child watching them take off and land, imagining what kind of adventures they were going off to have.

“I would swear it, Yoochun, if it were real. But what is there to live for? A man forcing himself on me? My freedom snatched away as if it never existed? The likelihood of daily beatings?”

Yoochun stared hard, shoulders heaving with breath.

“Yoochun?”

It was a moment more before Jaejoong realized Yoochun wasn’t staring at him. Rather he was looking past Jaejoong, and to the space port in the distance.

“Jaejoong,” Yoochun said, slowly and deliberately, his eyes straying over to meet Jaejoong’s, “get your winter coat. We need to go now.”

They must have looked like the two biggest fools on the planet, shimmying down the piping of the biggest house on the street. And more than once Jaejoong almost lost his grip and fell atop Yoochun who would have done little to break his fall. But eventually the ground was reached and Jaejoong allowed Yoochun to pull him away from the residence without so much as a look back, but with no idea what was ahead.

“I have a plan,” Yoochun said, holding onto Jaejoong’s luggage life a lifeline.

It had taken them less time to reach the port than Jaejoong had expected, and despite it being after dark, the area was well lit and well populated. However hellhounds were at their heels, and no doubt his father had already discovered he was missing. Security footage would be all too easy to access, and they’d be tracked to the shipyard within minutes.

“What kind of plan?” Jaejoong all but demanded, flustering a bit as Yoochun took a moment to primp him, straightening his hair, fixing the fit of his coat, and making him look a little more presentable.

“The kind that’s reckless and stupid and might end up getting the both of us killed. Do you want to go back?”

Jaejoong shook his head silently.

“Good,” Yoochun said, and then they were forging ahead, steaming into the mass of people starting to thin out from the end of the day, moving like ants in every direction, making Jaejoong a little dizzy. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We’re going to take a ship somewhere?” Jaejoong asked, eyes a little wide. His father had a luxury shuttle capable of short trips to and from each of the three moons that orbited Helios, but it had been years since Jaejoong had been aboard one of them, and something told him it wouldn’t be the same as taking a freight ship like most of the kind docked at the port.

“As far away from here as possible,” Yoochun replied.

It was a bit like having his pick of the liter, and it was also overwhelming. There were all kinds of ships surrounding them, some preparing for take off, some of them cold. They ranged in size from small and compact to so big some were actually offensive to look at. But they all seemed to radiate the freedom Jaejoong was desperately looking to have.

“Which one are we going to take?” Jaejoon asked, certainly at a miss as to which would best suit their needs. “How do we barter passageway?”

Yoochun’s eyes, which were narrowed and calculating as they assessed each ship, relayed, “We’re looking for a medium sized ship, something inconspicuous, naturally. It should likely be a cargo ship, the unimposing type preferably, and one that doesn’t ferry people often. And we should look for former Browncoats.”

Jaejoong startled a little. “Browncoats? I don’t think that’s wise.”

“It’s the wisest decision possible,” Yoochun argued. “They’ll be less likely to ask questions and they’ll do their best to steer clear of the Alliance without us having to bribe them extra for it.”

“Like that one?” Jaejoong pointed at a ship directly in front of them, several uncouth characters lingering around the front of it, obviously seasoned war veterans.

“Not like them,” Yoochun said right away, reaching to pull Jaejoong’s arm away. “We want a crew that won’t rob us in our sleep and space us at the first chance. Or worse.”

Jaejoong shot him a pale look. “You’re not suggesting--”

Yoochun interrupted him by stopping suddenly with raised eyebrows. “We want that one. I’m sure.”

Jaejoong peered at the ship in question. It was bulky in appearance, in desperate need of a paintjob, and seemed to be halfway to the junkyard already. Jaejoong couldn’t begin to see what was appealing about it. “Why?”

Yoochun said appraisingly, “It’s a Mako class, build for speed despite what you see. That’s the point, actually. She looks like she’s heavy and slow, but really she’s faster than almost anything else non Alliance out there. She’s not overly reliable in terms of her parts, but she performs well under pressure and what we need more than anything else right now is speed. We also need a crew like theirs.”

Yoochun nodded ahead and Jaejoong could see a man with his back turned to them, the captain if Jaejoong had to put his money on it from his long coat to the way he held himself. He was chatting easily with a taller man with sharp features--the truly beautiful kind, and laced through the tallest man’s fingers were those belonging to another boy, this one obviously younger but grinning wildly and laughing freely.

“You want them because one of them is laughing?”

“No,” Yoochun admitted. “I want them because that kid laughing is pretty like you are, and that smile on his face is real. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jaejoong said nothing but trailed after Yoochun as he led them through the maze of people to reach the Mako class ship.

When they got there the pair who’d been holding hands were gone, but the captain was the one they were likely to speak with anyway.

“Captain,” Yoochun called out confidently, striding ahead with Jaejoong’s luggage in hand. “We’re looking to secure passageway off Helios as soon as possible. Will you be departing tonight?”

Jaejoong, distracted by the hissing coming from the ship, had missed the moment the captain had turned. But when Jaejoong did look, determined to play his part, he faltered a bit. The captain was younger than expected, with broad, strong shoulders and a very attractive face. He didn’t like the sort to rob, and space them.

But then Jaejoong had never been very good at reading people, and also his father claimed he put too much stock in people in general.

The captain gave them a grin, but it wasn’t a nice one, and remarked, “Wouldn’t two … ah, fine gentlemen such as yourself, want to procure travel on a more befitting vessel?”

Yoochun challenged, “Is yours not space worthy?”

The captain’s face lit as he glanced up at the ship. “Oh, she’s more than space worthy. She’s good enough to take us to the Rim and back again, especially with the fresh parts she’s got now.”

“Splendid,” Yoochun remarked. “That’s exactly where we want to go.”

The captain’s face faltered a little. “Sorry to get your hopes up, but we’re actually going further in, not out. Got some business near the Core. Looks like you gents will have to find yourself another ship to take passage on.”

Yoochun’s shoulders tightened and Jaejoong sensed trouble.

Jaejoong’s credit pad was heavy in his pocket, something he never went anywhere without, and before Yoochun could say anything, Jaejoong spilled out, “We’ll pay double the usual fare.”

“I already told you,” the captain relayed, “we’re going the opposite direction you want to.”

A chill passed through the area and Jaejoong pulled his coat closer. It did little to keep the cold away, but the way the captain was looking at him was terribly revealing. The captain, whoever this man was, seemed as if he could see right through Jaejoong. He obviously knew they were hiding something.

“But if you’re going towards the Core,” Yoochun said knowingly, “then you’ll have to pass by the Moon Hub. Obviously there are few pickings here than my companion and I would like, but we might fare better there. How about you take us to the Moon Hub, which is a mere three days from here and on your way, and we’ll still pay you the offered double sum for the full length of the journey. How does that sound to you, Captain?”

The captain’s eyes turned to slips. “You two wouldn’t happen to be trouble?”

Of course they were. How could they be anything else?

Brazenly, and Jaejoong had no idea where it came from, he took a step forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Yoochun. Then he said, “We’re philanthropists, captain. Our business is often considered trouble. You are aware of what a philanthropist is, correct?”

From the corner of his eye Jaejoong could see Yoochun crack a smile.

“And my companion’s offer stand,” Jaejoong pressed ahead, holding the captain’s gaze like a battle on the warfront. “The only question is if you’d like to make an extra fee or not. We can wait for the next transport that suits us, if absolutely necessary. We’re simply in a rush to meet a prearranged engagement and looking for quick passage.”

The words were flying from his mouth at top speed, pompous and condescending and the kind that would have actually pleased his father. But Jaejoong was terrified of being caught and their time was preciously short.

The captain gave a sudden nod and said, “Alright, the Tohoshinki is your girl. We’ve got clearance to leave in about ten minutes. If that’s all the luggage you have, come on up and get yourselves situated. We’ll get to the logistics after takeoff.”

The captain turned and strode up the distended ramp easily, powerful thighs pumping his long legs in a way that made Jaejoong very appreciative for the sight. The captain was exceedingly attractive and Jaejoong tried not to let the fact distract him.

“Wait,” Jaejoong said, catching Yoochun the second he made to move after the captain. “We don’t have any papers. What is he going to do to us when he finds we don’t have any papers?”

Yoochun rolled his eyes and assured, “Papers are for the less savory kinds of folk from backwater poor planets trying to access places like Helios. No one will ask for our papers to leave, and if they do, I might be able to pull something up for us. It depends. Now come on, and don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”

The inside of the Tohoshinki was better than Jaejoong had expected. The space of the loading area was clearly meant to hold cargo, but it was mainly empty now, aside from Jaejoong’s luggage and a few other pieces belonging to other people.

He and Yoochun crowded in a bit nervously as the ramp pulled up behind them and they were cut off from the outside world.

“Right through there,” the captain called out suddenly, startling Jaejoong. He was standing up on a high walkway looking pleased as punch that he’d managed the reaction from Jaejoong, and he was pointing at a room down the way. “Strap in. We’re starting our preflight run. We’ll be in the air shortly and I’d hate to see you splatter to the ceiling before I can get my credits from you.”

Jaejoong shot him a contempt look and followed after Yoochun.

“Liftoff is going to be a little rough,” Yoochun remarked when they were in their seats, pulling harnesses across their chests. Jaejoong let Yoochun, who seemed to be more familiar with the strap arrangement, double check his own. “The Mako class ships are always rough until they hit atmo. It’s going to feel like she’ll shake apart, but I promise you--”

“We’ll be fine,” Jaejoong finished for him. He paused and frowned. “How do you know so much? About these hips and the kinds of crew who fly them?” As far as he knew Yoochun was just an indentured servant, and one who’d spent nearly all his time indoors, scrubbing floors and serving people.

Something indescribably odd flashed across Yoochun’s face and Jaejoong had a sinking suspicion that he didn’t know his friend half as well as he believed he did.

Before Yoochun could deliver an adequate answer the ship was shaking. And gods it did feel like the whole place as going to fall apart. Further inside the ship something rattled loudly and things clanged about.

“We’re cleared for liftoff,” a soothing voice crackled over the ship’s intercom. “Onew? How are we looking down there?”

The intercom snapped back with a distinct and wonderful voice, “All systems go, Kyu. Get us out of here before Mi tries to buy another pair of spotted leather pants.”

“Here we go,” Yoochun said, closing his head and tipping his head back.

Jaejoong felt his stomach bottom out. This was it. This was him leaving everything he had ever known behind. This was him abandoning his patients at the hospital, his precious baby sister, and a life he had spent over a decade crafting for himself.

For freedom. For something he’d lusted after for since he’d been old enough to grasp what it was.

But instead of liftoff there was an odd, uncertain calm that settled over the ship. It hissed, squeaked and was most certainly not in the air.

“Hold tight,” the first voice said once more over the intercom. “We’re being flagged by the comm deck. Priority level. Sorry. I don’t think we’re going anywhere right now.”

Another voice called out, echoing through the ship, “Leeteuk, I need you up here on the bridge immediately.” It was the captain’s voice.

Frightened and short of breath, Jaejoong turned to Yoochun and demanded, “Do you think it’s my father? Do you think we’ve been caught?”

The distinct sound of the ramp lowering and the clattering of footsteps on metal stairs filled Jaejoong’s mind until he couldn’t take it any longer and he was fumbling his harness. He had it off a second later, and before Yoochun could reach for him, he was on his way to see what was holding them up.

“Jaejoong!” Yoochun shouted after him, too slow to keep up.

Jaejoong caught himself on a nearby railing and was in a perfect place to see the flattering backside of the captain as he stood in front of the ramp distending, his hands on his gunbelt like it was possible he expected trouble.

Then Jaejoong saw the first of a half dozen Alliance soldiers pile into the ship, and he knew they’d been found out. Their escape was over before it had begun. And like so many times before, the elusive moment of freedom slipped through his pale fingers once more.