Iwolve

Cernan was in a conversation with Cooper and Anders when he saw Carter leave the room. He was rising to his feet before he realized he made the decision to follow.

“Excuse me,” Cernan said to his friends. “I need to check on Carter.”

“Of course,” Cooper nodded. There was something a little too knowing in her smile. Cernan decided to ignore it. On his way out, he stopped to talk with Simms.

“Is Carter all right? I just saw him leave.”

“He's feeling a little upset.” She didn't sound concerned, but it was enough for Cernan to keep walking.

He eventually found Carter squeezed into a corner. The other man looked up when Cernan drew closer, then dropped his gaze. Cernan gently coaxed him into talking about what was bothering him. He wasn't expecting it to be a dare from Simms. The two of them were best friends. Simms wouldn't do anything to hurt Carter.

“What was it?” Cernan wondered.

Carter stared at him, a faint blush rising on his face. That only made him more curious. Was the dare something embarrassing? He wasn't given much time to speculate. Carter reached for him, placing his hand on the back of Cernan's neck to bring him close. Cernan's eyes went wide, realizing what was about to happen seconds before their lips connected.

The kiss sent a shock through his nerves. His heart crashed hard against his ribs. The lips were exactly like the rest of Carter: gentle and careful. Cernan's brain was trying to keep up with the excited sensations that spread from where their mouths met to the rest of his body. All Cernan could do was stand there like a fool as Carter's mouth pressed against his. Carter pulled back just a little, just far enough to adjust the angle for the next kiss.

The wires in Cernan's mind finally connected. Carter was kissing him! He lifted his hand, thumb brushing the heated skin of the man's cheek, and kissed back.

They broke apart, Carter stumbling until his back hit the wall. His expression was wide and panicked.

“Why would she dare that?” Cernan wondered, trying to diffuse the tension. Carter wet his lips, his face now fully red. His eyes shifted to look down the hall before looking back at Cernan. He shifted, as if to move away. Cernan planted a hand on the wall, right by Carter's shoulder. “Carter,” he pressed.

Carter's eyes darted back to his face again. He took a shaky breath, but still didn't answer Cernan's question. Cernan lifted his other hand to box Carter in. He didn't like doing it, but neither did he want Carter to slip away. Not when the rush of their kiss was still in his veins.

“Don't go,” he pleaded.

His eyes dropped to those lips now. Carter's throat bobbed in a nervous swallow. A thought struck Cernan. Simms knew Carter best, knew what buttons to push. It was not unlike Cernan's relationship with Cooper. Was it possible...? His eyes slid up to Carter's flustered face, then down to his lips. They flexed a little under his gaze.

Hoping that was an invitation, Cernan leaned in. His lips were questioning when they touched Carter's. Again, his body lit up from the contact. Carter's lips twitched, and then he was pressing back, leaning into Cernan. The response sent a fresh thrill through him. His hands on the wall were now acting as a brace to keep him upright as he kissed Carter, the brushes of their lips making him tremble and gasp.

“Cernan,” Carter sighed. His hand gripped Cernan's sides, pulling him closer. Cernan willingly came, slipping so his arms were bracing him now.

“...but also, because of its purpose — and despite the distance and duration — it will make me feel closer to humanity somehow. The… oneness of it all, you know?”

Someone who might watch the interview with the Cassiopeia crew out of motives that run a little deeper than mere idle curiosity about news reports would almost certainly not see anything particularly remarkable in it. That person, sitting at home in front of the screen, safe behind closed doors, would have snorted upon hearing the technical engineer’s words. 

“Who knows, perhaps one day my time will come around again, that I can live another life. In the future, I help create.”

In his long-winded talk of closeness, he would have seen the affectation of a corporate explorer who happened to be among the first to enter the orbit of an exoplanet. In the pauses between his words, he would have heard the accent and the careful choice of phrases suited to the circumstances and the speech. He would have interpreted the speculations about an another life and the future as nothing more than pretentious expressions. 

And this man would have cared as much about the words that had faded away as he would about the howling of an oceanic hurricane, an announcement of a curfew, or a police siren dispersing a street protest. Just another interview, just another appeal, just another set of promises. To him, it was all just the same old noise, worn down to the mundane. The interview itself was a formal obligation to speak loftily and inspiringly, in accordance with all the precepts of the CEO of Corinth.

But Josef Cernan, sitting before the camera at the time — albeit for the archives and the company’s image — spoke candidly. And for him, every word carried weight; meaning was invested in each one; behind each lay something unique, deeply personal, and palpable.

The exploration and colonization of an exoplanet — a goal set by Corinth for the sake of all humanity, just as it is. The desire to survive is inherent in every human being; it lies at the very core of his being. Present humanity with the question of survival as a species — and everyone, without exception, will strive toward that single goal. Find yourself at the forefront of this strive — and upon you will converge the gazes, destinies, and hopes of billions of living beings yearning to secure their future.

For Josef, the future he desires is not an abstract concept. It will come. And whatever form it takes, it will affect him as well. Not through his children or his grandchildren, not through the curses or the recognition of future generations, but directly. What he calls ‘another life’ is not a life free from the threat of extinction or steps on a terraformed exoplanet under the light of the Tau Ceti f. It is not an allegory. ‘Another life’ is an another breath, an another birth, an another beginning laid down by the actions of the path taken before. Another cycle of Samsara.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

And this faith, this knowledge, this feeling unites like nothing else. After all, everyone’s fate will be shared — that of humanity, Cassiopeia, Mikael…

“T h i n g sㅤc a nㅤo n l yㅤg e tㅤb e t t e r.”

~

The first thing he felt was his ears ringing, with his heart pounding like a drum inside them, as if it had escaped from his chest. A throbbing pressure beneath his ears, stretching his skin, and the points at his temples growing heavier and heavier. A growing, drawn-out sound of alarm pulsed through the cotton wool, followed by the ringing of a critical system error that dug into his head, which was melting from pain; cyclical red lights flashed beneath his eyelids. Fear clamped down on his Adam’s apple, and his nose clogged as he tried to breathe. His whole body was seized by a minute spasm that prevented him from moving; a sweet, metallic stench lodged as a warm lump in his nasal septum; his neck tingled with the premonition of an imminent impact against the steel handrails — he was falling, flying into an endless abyss!

“…ulse 174, blood pressure 160 over 100 and rising! Simms!”

“Yeah, I took off the limiter! There’s a block — can't reached until the liquid drains!”

“If it goes any higher, it’ll be too late for a standard inhib shot!… 160 over 104! Damn it! Oracle, emergency opening!”

"[Copy that. Executing command]."

Echoes, barely discernible amid the system’s screams and his sore thoughts, rang out and faded away before Josef could catch them and figure out if they made any sense at all. 

Hot palms seized him and pulled, tearing him from the stifling haze. The moment he shifted position against his will, he inhaled uncontrollably and immediately doubled over in a spasm, gasping as he exhaled. A liquid rose from his throat and windpipe, slowly, too slowly, leaving his insides. His fingers clenched reflexively. His heart pounded painfully in his throat, and the cold that had closed in around him began to cling to his skin. He was still falling — into an abyss, a cold, endless abyss. Om Tare… Anyone… Mick…

~~~

won't write everything here, it will turn into a long... thing

“We still have the east flank to cover. Eyes open. Let’s go.” Jason’s words echoed around the open space of the temple. He saw Nick nod once in acknowledgment out of the corner of his eye as they made their way to the edge of the vast room, where they had tied up the enemy Iraqi soldier.

To say Jason was uneasy was an understatement. The man they were approaching subverted everything Jason had been told about Iraqi soldiers. It had been drilled into him that they were a vicious and violent people, who would stop at nothing to kill. Yet the first thing he did was show Jason mercy, when he could have gunned him down on the spot. His words, “no more killing”, still echoed through Jason’s head.

And when they crossed paths again, and Jason had done nothing but threaten him, he had stayed calm and willingly surrendered. Did he have a bigger motive in mind? To trick the Americans and dispatch of them later? Is that why he had allied with Nick? But Nick seemed adamant this man was different, stating there were several moments where he had been unguarded and the man never took the opportunity to use that stake against him. It didn’t make any sense.

But what alarmed Jason the most was that he found the Iraqi man devastatingly attractive. He brought feelings to the surface that Jason had sworn he had buried too deep to reach. Apparently not.

With each step, Jason tried to strengthen his resolve. He was going to stay focused on the mission. They were on enemy soil with unknown combatants and Iraqi soldiers to boot. His situation wasn’t exactly going to improve by having an identity crisis as well. But as he and Nick came to stop in front of their captive, Jason suspected he had his work cut out for him.

“The demons will kill me. You have to untie me!” The man pleaded, forceful but urgent. He pulled against his restraints, grunting from the effort, and Jason had to take a moment to steady himself at the sound. This was hardly the time to get turned on.

He looked towards Nick. “It’s okay, my buddy’s here to protect you,” Jason said, patting Nick on the arm, trying to sound confident.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this place locked down tight.” Nick did a visual sweep of the area, as if to prove his point. The Iraqi soldier looked skeptical and unimpressed. Nick turned to Jason. “We’ve got work to do. I’m heading out.”

He nodded, and eyed the man in front of him, who watched Nick leave, his face unreadable. Jason silently cursed himself for not immediately following. Now he was left all alone with this man.

When Nick was out of sight and they finally made eye contact again, Jason scrambled for something to say.

“This here’s as safe as it’s gonna get.”

The man shook his head. “I’ll feel a lot safer with a gun in my hand.” Jason scoffed.

“No way am I giving you a weapon. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna feed you to your demons.” He paused, trying to think of something reassuring to say. “Anything moves, we’ll be here before a prayer leaves your mouth.”

He regretted the words instantly, as he was now looking at said mouth, and thinking of all the things it might be capable of. The man’s lips were fairly full and looked tantalizingly soft.

Jason tried to look away, briefly making eye contact again, which was another mistake because he was met with rich brown eyes that seemed to look right into his soul. So he let his gaze drop back down.

The man parted his lips, almost mockingly, and Jason’s stomach churned. As if he were a marionette, his hand moved on its own and he watched as it cupped the man’s chin, his thumb gliding over his bottom lip. It was just as soft as it looked and Jason bit down on his own lip.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as he allowed his thumb to apply more pressure, slightly exposing the man’s teeth. As Jason relished in the feeling, his brain started catching up with his body, becoming hyper aware that he was caressing a man, an Iraqi soldier no less, that he was holding captive. A man whose name he didn’t even know; Nick had mentioned it and now Jason cursed himself for not committing it to memory.

He froze as his eyes drifted back upwards. He expected to be met with disgust but instead found intrigue and allurement. After a moment, the man spoke.

“What are you waiting for?”

Jason felt the words form under his thumb, shuddering at the warm breath on his skin. He glanced behind him, confirming that Nick was gone, and turned back to the Iraqi. He could stop now, go on like nothing had happened, and ignore the feelings stirring within him.

But he decided to throw caution to the wind; if he was going to die in this vampiric hell, he was going to die knowing the kiss of another man. So he shifted his hand to cradle the back of the Iraqi’s head, and leaned down, pressing their lips together.

It went without saying that Jason was rusty, but that didn’t seem to bother the man. Despite being the one tied up, he quickly became the more dominant of the two, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to care. Kisses bled together as tongues began to explore. Jason slowly became more entranced, reveling in the man’s taste.

The sensation of desire building in him was new and exhilarating. The thought of untying the Iraqi briefly entered his mind when his earpiece crackled to life.

“Hey man, this east flank isn’t going to cover itself.”

Jason tore himself away, whipping around to make sure Nick wasn’t actually in the room. When he confirmed Nick wasn’t, he took a few deep breaths before replying. It was like he had been electrocuted, all good feelings snapped to panic and dread, a cold chill cascading down his body.

“Yeah, I’m comin’,” he said curtly into his earpiece, relieved he didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. When he glanced back at the Iraqi, he was greeted by a cheekily raised eyebrow and Jason flushed hard at the implication of his word choice. That paired with the man’s soft panting and glistening lips left Jason scrambling for words.

“Fuck you!” He blurted, reaching up to straighten his hat and pull it low over his eyes. To his horror, the man’s mouth twitched up, the hint of a smirk, as if to say ‘Oh really?’.