Chapter Text
Fuck, his head was pounding. A muffled groan escaped Clint’s lips, and he tried to raise his hands to press them against his head. They wouldn’t obey him. He tried again, but something was holding his arms pinned behind his back. He was tied up!
He was suddenly wide awake, and didn’t dare move now. He lay motionless and listened. He heard a person, a man. He heard his breathing, heard him pacing back and forth on the metal floor. Then he rummaged through some things. Clint could also hear the dull hum of a machine. He felt a barely perceptible vibration running through the floor. Plus, there was a smell of burning.
He rummaged through his memories, searching for a reason for all of this. It took him great effort, and there were little more than fragments. He saw the Avengers team, saw them fighting. But who were they fighting? Where were they? Not Earth, no, Clint was sure of that. Midgard, they had been on Midgard. It had started on Earth, then they had followed Thor. Loki was the reason, they had been fighting him and his entourage. Loki had tried to escape, but Clint had managed to follow him into his spaceship before it took off… and then?
Then something else had happened, something unexpected and something huge. There had been an explosion. Not on their ship, out in space.
He remembered looking out in terror. There had been no sound, no bang, no thunder. Just an infinitely vast, all-consuming light. Then Loki had done something at the ship’s control panel. They had jumped into hyperspace… and then? That was as far as the tangle of his confused memories went. After the jump, everything went black.
His attention was drawn back to the other man when he let out a hissing curse. Now he recognized him without a doubt as Loki. Clint seemed to be lying with his back to him, so he cautiously dared to open his eyes.
Slowly, he lifted his eyelids a crack and closed them again immediately. The light burned and made his head throb again. He gathered himself briefly and tried again. This time he left them open, even though he felt as if his brain were pressing against his skull with every heartbeat. His head seemed too small. Everything was pounding, throbbing, and pulsing.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t even rewarded for his suffering by opening his eyes. All he saw was a metallic ship’s wall. So he closed his eyes again and limited himself to listening. He heard Loki moving away from him. Something beeped, followed by a click. Then a discordant sound, followed by an angry curse. It was obvious that something was wrong here. Something was not going at all the way Loki wanted it to. Good.
Since the demigod seemed distracted, Clint dared to move his fingers and carefully test the restraints. They were made of thick wire that pressed tightly around his wrists and cut into his skin. His fingers were probably already completely blue. At least they felt hot and swollen. But the pain was still bearable, it didn’t seem like he’d been tied up for very long.
The question remained: what options did Clint have? Not many, he had to admit. He was tied up, which severely limited his movements. And his pounding head didn’t make the situation any better. He moved his legs a little and realized that at least they were free. At the same time, however, his body felt battered, stiff, sweaty, and weak. Would he be able to get to his feet quickly enough to surprise and overpower Loki? Unlikely, but it was worth a try—what did he have to lose anyway?
And so he waited. He listened as Loki fiddled with the controls. Then something squeaked, followed by a metallic clatter. Then came a period of silence, during which he could hear only the soft rustling of clothing and a few muttered words he couldn’t make out. Eventually, his concentration wavered and he drifted off. When he realized this, he was wide awake again in an instant.
Normally, such carelessness wouldn’t have happened to him. His pounding head was weakening him. He would love nothing more than to simply give in to sleep to rest a little. A sofa, a sandwich, and a nap, that would be nice. Maybe the headache would have disappeared or at least subsided by the time he woke up.
But now was not the time to rest and take it easy. Clint wasn’t the type to just give up and sit idly by hoping for help. Surely the rest of the Avengers were already on their way to track him and Loki down. But he couldn’t count on that, he had to deal with the situation on his own.
He turned his attention back to Loki and listened for any sounds. He seemed to be back at the controls.
Minutes passed with nothing happening. Clint’s body was sending pain signals from everywhere. There were so many that he couldn’t pinpoint them all. The worst were his head, wrists, and shoulders, which had been pulled backward by the restraints.
Finally, Loki turned away from the controls. Clint heard footsteps coming toward him, getting closer and closer. Loki was barely two meters away when he stopped. Something clattered; something fell to the floor. So close, and yet still too far away. Clint had to be patient.
He heard Loki snort in exasperation. Silence followed, during which Clint didn’t dare move a muscle. Still, his muscles were tense and ready.
Then, finally, a step. A step in his direction. His pulse quickened slightly, but his thoughts remained calm. He felt no excitement or anything of the sort, only chilling readiness. He didn’t need to run through the planned movements in his head, his body would know exactly what to do.
Loki’s voice rang out. Clint could clearly hear the amused undertone. “You don’t really think that’s going to work, do you?”
Clint didn’t react, still waiting to see what would happen. A few seconds of silence passed, then he heard Loki sigh. “Besides, it wouldn’t do you much good, Barton.”
Clint heard Loki turn away from him and his footsteps receding. As he walked away, he continued, “Unless you know enough about intergalactic navigation to get us home from here. Though I doubt that.”
He sighed again before he carried on: “And on top of that, you’d need to know the ship’s mechanics. Our situation is extremely dire. We’re in uncharted territory of our galaxy. At least, I assume it’s still our galaxy. Theoretically, the explosion could have hurled us anywhere else. Across the universe into a galaxy that is infinitely far from our home. If that were the case, however, returning home would be virtually impossible, so I prefer to stick with the theory that we are still in our own galaxy.”
Clint listened to the voice, listened to the words, and a sense of foreboding spread through his chest. If Loki was telling the truth, then they had a real problem. He didn’t know much about space travel, but he knew one thing: the distances were vast. If he remembered correctly, distances in space were measured in light seconds. One light second was equal to 300,000 kilometers per second. The closest star to Earth, Proxima Centauri, was a little over 4 light-years away. If you were to convert that distance into kilometers, there would be so many zeros at the end of the number that Clint couldn’t even say it out loud. Without hyperspace travel—such as through the rainbow bridge Bifröst—traveling in space was an impossibility, at least in the span of a human lifetime.
Suddenly, the footsteps were coming toward him again. They were fast and determined, and within seconds, Loki was right beside him. Clint didn’t think; he just reacted. He sprang up from his prone position, already tensing his muscles in preparation for the kick that was sure to follow. But he didn’t even make it to his feet. Mid-air, a hand grabbed him by the throat and hurled him backward. Clint slammed so hard onto the ground that it knocked the wind out of him.
Pain exploded in his head, and a muffled groan escaped him. He heard Loki say something, but the pounding in his skull made it impossible for him to focus on anything. He could only clench his teeth and wait for the pain to finally lessen.
The hand was still on his throat, squeezing tight and barely letting any air through. Loki shook him, which only intensified the pain in his skull. He heard words, but still couldn’t make out what they were. Then finally, the hand on his throat let go, and he gasped for air. The sudden movement sent the pain thundering through him once more.
He didn’t know how long it took him to come to his senses. The whole time, he could hear Loki’s voice. Was the guy giving a monologue or something? Slowly, Clint regained enough of his senses to understand the words and make sense of what he was saying. Loki seemed to still be talking about distances, positions, and the vastness of space. In between, he explained that the shockwave had irreparably destroyed their propulsion system. Loki laughed and added that they wouldn’t be able to get out of here anyway, even if they knew their location. Supplies were scarce, and the life support systems were unstable.
Then Loki approached him again.
“Hey, Mr. Superhero!” he called out. “Are you even listening to me?”
Clint snorted and replied, “Yeah, I’m listening, and let me sum it up: We’re screwed.”
Loki stopped beside him, but this time Clint didn’t even try to attack him. He heard him chuckle amusedly and then reply, “Both vulgar and accurate. Indeed, we’re screwed.”
“It might be helpful to untie my bonds,” Clint growled. “After all, we’re both in the same shitty boat.” He opened his eyes a crack, but at first he could only see the other man as a blurry silhouette.
Loki laughed again. “Oh no, my dear. You really can’t think I’m that naive.”
“Well… I had to try, didn’t I? But then at least loosen them up a little,” he said, his gaze slowly clearing. “My shoulders are killing me.”
“Since when did we get so sensitive, Mr. Superhero?” Loki smirked.
“Ever since some megalomaniac demigod tied me up like a sausage,” Clint grumbled. He began to move, sliding toward the wall to get into a sitting position. He hated lying there so helplessly in front of Loki who watched his movements calmly and seemed to have no concern whatsoever about another attack, which only made Clint even angrier. Finally, he felt the wall behind him, straightened his upper body slightly, and then pushed himself against it with his legs so that he now had the wall as support against his back. Frustrated, he realized that this small effort had already caused his breathing to quicken noticeably. Something was very wrong with him.
Angrily, he glared at Loki, who in turn looked back at him, amused, with his head tilted to one side.
Clint huffed, “What are you planning to do now?”
“Well,” Loki replied. “That’s a really good question. So many problems, I don’t even know where to start. We can’t get away with a broken drive, but even if I manage to fix it, without knowing our position, it would all be a flight into the unknown… though that’s certainly better than being hopelessly stuck in the void. Thanks to the shockwave from the explosion and popping out of hyperspace, we did pick up some residual momentum that’s letting us coast a little, but at this speed, we’re not going to get anywhere.”
“How about we just start with that?” Clint suggested.
Loki laughed. “We haven’t even come close to the end of the list of our problems. You forgot the life support systems. There’s only one filter left to purify our air—and even that doesn’t seem to be working properly. Plus, the heating system took a hit too. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” He shrugged and continued: “You decide: What should I take care of first? Air or heat?”
“Without air, it’s pretty shitty,” Clint managed to say, slowly realizing just how dire their situation really was. They were stuck in a tiny coffin floating somewhere in the endless expanse. They were completely alone, completely helpless. Doomed.
It seemed that realization was written all over his face, because Loki laughed again and pointed at him. “Now you really get it, don’t you?”
Clint said nothing in response, and after a moment’s pause, Loki simply continued his monologue: “Air, then. Not a bad choice, why not? But I’d still like to add that air is of no use to us without a working heater. Do you know how cold it is out there?”
He pointed to the window above the consoles, where Clint could see the blackness of space and billions of stars. In response to Loki’s question, he shrugged.
Loki replied, “You humans would say: freezing cold. Without an external heat source, we’d both be frozen solid within seconds. You have that saying on Earth—that the blood freezes in your veins. Well, that’s exactly what would happen here. You’d turn into a block of ice so fast you wouldn’t even have time to scream.”
Clint muttered, “Then you should finally stop giving monologues here that nobody cares about anyway, and take care of this stuff instead.”
Loki laughed again. And this time he leaned forward and reached out his arm toward Clint. Clint tried to turn away, but already he felt the man’s hand in his hair.
“You’re right about that, my little human,” Loki laughed, ruffling his hair. The movement triggered another throbbing in Clint’s skull, and he let out a reluctant growl. Then he saw Loki frown and pull his hand back. He looked at his fingers, and Clint saw the blood clinging to them too. To be honest, it didn’t surprise him.
“Hm,” Loki said, examining his fingers. Then he looked back at Clint, grinned widely, and stuck one of the bloody fingers in his mouth. A shiver of horror ran down Clint’s spine. The sight disgusted him, and yet he couldn’t look away. Loki grinned even wider and stuck the second finger in his mouth. Then he pulled it out again and said cheerfully, “You’re right, there’s a lot to do. You’d better stay here and rest; I’ll take care of everything.”
He stood up and walked away. Clint saw him lick his bloody palm with his tongue.
Although that perverted image never quite left his mind over the next few hours, Clint eventually managed to doze off. He had tried to stay awake for a while longer, but his eyes kept closing and his chin kept dropping onto his chest. He woke up a few times, startled, but eventually fell into a deep sleep. When he woke up again, he had slid down the wall and was now lying on the floor once more. He immediately noticed how incredibly cold it was. When he opened his eyes this time, the pounding in his head was more bearable. Fortunately, he was light-years away from that uncontrollable throbbing and roaring.
He slowly sat up. His hands were still tied behind his back, and by now his shoulders were burning. The rest of his body was also sending out signals of pain and was simultaneously numb with cold. He could barely feel his feet, and his fingers seemed to have frozen solid. He felt himself shivering from the cold. This was no fun at all. It was freezing cold here!
He looked around but couldn’t spot Loki. Then he listened and heard a clattering sound coming from somewhere inside the ship.
Clint closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. Then he opened his eyes again and struggled to get to his feet. As he exhaled, a small cloud of breath formed in front of his face.
He walked slowly through the control room and stood in front of the window. If his situation were different, he would certainly have enjoyed the view. He had never seen such a magnificent sky on Earth. It was a fascinating sight. And yet it was terrifying. Such endless emptiness. Clint wondered if he would actually die here.
He heard the approaching footsteps long before Loki returned to the control room. Yet he didn’t turn to face him until he stepped into the room.
“Well?” Clint asked, unable to stop his teeth from chattering slightly. “How are you doing as a mechanic?”
“I think you can answer that yourself,” Loki grumbled. There was nothing left of his cheerfulness. Unlike Clint, he was wearing a thick fur coat he’d managed to find somewhere. Clint nodded toward it.
“Do you have another one of those?” he asked, shivering.
Loki laughed, and something in his eyes flashed mockingly. “What would I gain by letting you live? You’re just wasting oxygen, and I’m sure you’ll be asking for something to eat or drink next. Why should I share my scarce resources with you?”
“Hm… yeah, sure, that makes sense. Let this idiot breathe up all your oxygen, but be stingy when it comes to a stupid coat,” Clint grumbled.
Now Loki burst out laughing. “You’re probably right about that, my dear.” Still chuckling softly, he turned and left the control room.
Clint waited, shivering from the cold. After what felt like an eternity, Loki returned. He hadn’t brought a second coat, but he did have a sort of cape made of thick fur. The demigod was still grinning broadly as he approached Clint and draped the cape around him. Clint felt the urge to step back, but remained where he was. Loki began humming softly as he fiddled with the cape’s clasp, then took a step back to examine the result. The cape hung too loosely, which is why it was open in the front. Loki frowned and stepped forward again. He grabbed the cloak and pulled, tugged, and yanked at it to completely wrap Clint in it.
Clint let him do it, but said, “You could just untie my bonds.”
He heard Loki laugh mockingly to himself. “I bet you’d like that.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Clint asked with a sigh. “We’re both still stuck in the same coffin.”
“Now, now, don’t be so negative,” Loki replied. “The filter’s still rattling, but it should start running soon, and I’m already working on the heater.”
He stepped back again, pursed his lips, and shook his head. “No, that won’t work. Wait here.” He turned around again and left the control room. When he returned, he was holding a rope.
“I could help you with the repairs,” Clint tried again.
Loki paid no attention to his words. Once more, he pulled and tugged at the rope, closing the gap. Then he wrapped the rope around Clint several times to keep the cape in place. When he stepped back, he grinned broadly and nodded with satisfaction.
“Looks good.”
Clint felt utterly ridiculous. “I look like a fat furry caterpillar,” he muttered. But at least the cloak should keep him somewhat warm.
After that, Loki teased him a little more while leaning against the wall, pulling something out of his pocket, and starting to eat. Clint was hungry too, but he didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, he crouched down on the floor again, leaned against the wall, and let Loki’s remarks slide past him without comment. He was exhausted, tired, and had realized that he couldn’t change his situation at the moment, so he had fallen into a resigned state of waiting. That didn’t mean he had given up, though. It just meant he was waiting for things to get better.
When Loki had almost finished eating, he approached Clint. Again, something flashed mockingly in his eyes as he held the last bite right in front of Clint’s nose.
“Here, go ahead and eat,” he said.
Hate welled up inside Clint. He shot the other man an angry glance and turned his head away. He knew it was unwise. It was unwise to anger the man, and it was unwise to refuse the bite. But even though he was weak, bound, and wrapped in a fur like a burrito, somewhere deep down, he still had enough foolish pride to show at least some resistance to this humiliation.
Loki, however, shrugged it off and popped the last bite into his own mouth. “Fine, then,” he said cheerfully and left the control room.
Time dragged on. Clint couldn’t say how long he’d been lying there in the cold. At first, the cloak offered some protection, but little by little the cold crept back into his body, seeping into his flesh and bones. The temperature around him continued to drop. Every now and then he stood up and moved around a bit to keep warm. His breath condensed in front of him.
He left the control room to look around the rest of the ship. It was relatively small, barely larger than an average apartment. It had a tiny bathroom area and a small kitchenette. Two narrow bunk beds nestled against the wall next to a small dining table. The engines took up by far the largest part of the ship. From there, he could hear a clattering sound and Loki’s voice time and again.
Clint didn’t dare venture into that area, as numerous stairs, landings, and low passageways invited him to fall. And with the cloak wrapped around him, he would have trouble getting back up. He would have liked to lie down on one of the narrow beds to get some sleep, but he didn’t dare, afraid he would freeze to death if he stopped moving.
Eventually, Loki returned. He was covered in a clear liquid and in such a foul mood that Clint didn’t dare speak to him. Loki went into the control room and fiddled around there for a bit. Clint stayed in the living area and paced around the table to keep moving. By then, he was so tired that he kept dozing off even while doing that. When Loki came back from the control room, he flopped down on one of the beds. He looked at his hands, grimaced in disgust, and wiped them on the bedsheet.
“Did you manage to fix the heater?” Clint asked. He had trouble getting the words out, his face was numb from the cold.
Loki sighed and replied, “We’ll see soon enough. Either it’ll get warmer soon, or we can start thinking of a pose in which we want to freeze to death. Personally, I wouldn’t want to die huddled on the floor. Because our bodies won’t decompose, and if someone discovers us millions of years from now, I don’t want to be found in such an undignified position. I want to die standing upright.”
Clint laughed dryly. “You’ve got issues.”
“I’m confident, though,” Loki said then, rubbing his hands together to warm them. His fingers were chalk-white. He seemed to think for a moment and then added, “Confident that we’ll survive the next few days. Because as for the engine… hmm… well… Let me put it this way: “We’d need more than just one miracle. A dozen might be enough.”
As the next hour showed, Loki’s confidence wasn’t unfounded—it got noticeably warmer. After two hours, Loki shed his fur coat and freed Clint from his cloak as well. However, he still refused to untie the restraints. And even this didn’t seem to be enough security for Loki, because he grabbed Clint and unceremoniously shoved him into a tiny room whose walls were littered with cables and modules. Loki explained that he finally wanted to get some sleep and wasn’t in the mood for any surprises. That was the last straw for Clint. He hurled a few angry retorts at the other man, which only amused Loki. Clint could still hear his laughter as he closed the door and left Clint in the darkness.
When Clint woke up the next time, he heard Loki already moving around. Clint kicked the door and called out to him, but was ignored. Eventually, Clint gave up in frustration and stared into the darkness. His thoughts wandered, drifting to his wife Laura and his three children. For a while, he managed to lose himself in happy memories, but hunger and thirst eventually brought him back to the here and now. Once again, he tried shouting and kicking the door to get the demigod to let him out. Once again, it was to no avail. Staring into the darkness, he eventually drifted into a restless sleep.
A door burst open, and blinding light stabbed at his eyes. Clint squinted even harder and turned away with a groan.
“Awaken, you children of courage, you warriors of strength, you heroes of the sword!” Loki cried cheerfully.
Clint responded with a wordless grumble. He heard Loki laugh, felt himself grabbed by the collar and dragged to his feet.
“Come on!” laughed Loki. “You’ll never believe this!”
Clint hadn’t even really gathered his thoughts yet when he was already being dragged, stumbling, into the control room. Loki shoved him toward the window and shouted, “Just look!”
“Don’t touch me!” Clint snorted, belatedly, and shot the other a furious glance.
Loki just laughed, reached out with one hand toward his face, and turned his head toward the window. Clint wriggled out of the grip. Now Loki seemed to have had enough. He snorted and shoved Clint so hard that he stumbled backward and fell to the floor. Without his hands, he couldn’t brace himself and hit the ground so hard with his right shoulder that a stifled cry of pain escaped him.
“Wimp,” Loki commented.
As Clint struggled to get back on his feet, he saw the demigod standing at the control panel, gazing intently out into space. Now Clint was curious to see what was going on out there. He got fully to his feet and approached cautiously.
Loki turned to face him. His whole face was beaming.
“You didn’t expect that either, did you?”
At first, Clint saw nothing but endless blackness and countless twinkling stars. But then he thought he saw a movement in the darkness. He furrowed his brow and squinted. And sure enough: a massive shadow was moving through the darkness.
“What is that?” he asked. He didn’t dare let hope take root just yet.
“Are you completely blind?” the demigod beside him called out cheerfully. “That’s a ship!”
“Whose?” Clint asked. The ship was enormous. Whoever it belonged to, a civilization capable of creating such a massive object, worried him. Clint was far from the joy and relief Loki was showing.
Loki looked at him, grinned widely, and patted him on the shoulder, causing Clint to grimace and turn his shoulder away.
“Don’t be so gloomy,” he laughed. “Whoever they may be, our situation has definitely improved! Just a moment ago we were facing certain death, and now we at least have hope. And besides, it’s exciting.”
“How big is that thing?” Clint managed to say. Now that he’d spotted the shadow, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Without any points of reference, he had no way of estimating just how big this ship actually was.
Loki replied, “The sensors indicate a length of 243, a width of 134, and a height of about 31 kilometers.”
“Kilometers?!” Clint echoed in disbelief. “That damn thing… kilometers?!”
Loki nodded with a grin. “Exciting, isn’t it? I wonder what kind of race is behind this giant?”
“Have they seen us yet?” Clint wanted to know.
Loki shrugged. “No idea. But I’d be surprised if they hadn’t. Our energy signatures are weak, but whoever is capable of building something like this… well.”
Clint still couldn’t tear his gaze away, so the buddy-like slap on the shoulder caught him completely off guard. “Don’t be so scared, my little superhero. They’re not going to eat you.”
Panting, Clint tried to regain control of his aching shoulder and managed to say with difficulty, “Wait a minute: Are you sure about that? Maybe ‘Asgard Snack’ is a delicacy over there.”
“Anyone capable of creating a ship like that wouldn’t just bite into unfamiliar meat. He’d study it,” Loki said.
“I could definitely do without a probe up my ass,” Clint grumbled.
They were silent for a few minutes as they watched the ship slowly approach them.
“Are you going to untie me now?” Clint finally asked.
Loki chuckled. “Definitely not.”
Clint thought for a moment, then said, “That’s going to look weird.”
“But it also creates some options that wouldn’t exist otherwise,” Loki smirked, which finally made Clint take his eyes off the ship and look at him.
“What kind of options?” he wanted to know.
Loki chuckled quietly to himself, gave him a mocking look, and finally replied, “At the very least, it immediately shows that there are people here with different levels of status. Maybe it’ll be enough for them if they only have one to study and just chat with the other.”
“Bastard,” Clint snorted.
Loki laughed again. Then he suddenly pushed off from the control board and hurried out of the room.
Clint watched him go suspiciously, running through his options in his head. And he came to the conclusion that he had only one left: He had to overpower Loki and switch places before the alien ship reached them. He didn’t believe this would significantly improve his situation, in fact, he considered it just as hopeless as before, but he wasn’t going to just sit around and twiddle his thumbs either.
He hurried to the entrance of the control room and pressed himself against the wall there.
He heard Loki returning; his footsteps echoed loudly off the metal floor. As the other man entered, Clint’s right leg shot out through the air. He had only this one chance, so he aimed for the other man’s head. But he was hungry, thirsty, tired, injured, and, above all, still tied up. Not exactly an ideal starting position. Loki dodged, and Clint’s foot struck the doorframe. A hard blow to the pit of his stomach sent Clint groaning to the floor. Before he was able to react in any way, he was grabbed and thrown onto his back. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest, and he was grabbed by the chin.
“How cheeky,” he heard Loki say. He snorted, looking up at the other man, who had straddled him and was looking down at him mockingly. Clint realized that Loki didn’t see him as a real opponent, and that thought made him furious. He tried to struggle and shake Loki off. To no avail. Loki just laughed and slapped him across the face.
“Now calm down, my little hero,” he said.
Although his cheek was burning and the pounding in his head had returned, Clint had no intention of calming down. Once again, he thrashed about, and in his helplessness, he even tried to bite the other man. He managed to get a hold of him, and his teeth dug into the flesh. An angry cry followed. Then a fist was slammed into his face.
He heard a crack and his mouth opened. Another blow followed, then another, and another, and another. Loki shouted something, but Clint couldn’t hear it anymore. He lay there dazed when suddenly something soft and foul-smelling was stuffed into his mouth. He jolted awake and tried to turn his head away. No chance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he realized it was a scrap of cloth that Loki was apparently using as a gag. Clint now tried to breathe through his nose, but that, too, was blocked by something. Blood! His nose was broken, and he was bleeding from it. Panic seized him; he couldn’t breathe. Gasping, he thrashed from side to side. Above him, he saw Loki, who was looking down at him with an angry expression and saying something. Clint tried to scream, tried to make Loki understand that he couldn’t breathe. But Loki simply turned around and walked back to the control panel.
Clint’s trained instincts took over. He forced himself to push the panic back. Stay calm, stay very calm. Breathing through his nose was indeed impossible. The blood was now even running down his throat, entering his windpipe and making him cough. He desperately tried to stay calm and not panic again. He rolled onto his side and lowered his head so that the blood flowed out of his nose and not back into his throat.
At the same time, he tried to get his coughing fit under control and push the fabric in his mouth aside so he could breathe somehow.
And somehow, he actually managed it. He couldn’t take a proper breath, but at least he could gasp for air a little. He still felt like he was going to suffocate at any moment, but he stayed where he was and didn’t let panic overwhelm him again. In this life-threatening situation, his sense of time failed him completely. He had no idea how long he’d been crouched there, struggling for every tiny breath, until Loki finally stood beside him again. Clint turned his head slightly and looked up at the demigod. Anger boiled up inside him. Anger at Loki for doing this to him, anger at himself and his helplessness.
Loki, on the other hand, tilted his head and looked at him calmly. Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.
“I’m not sure it’s wise to free you from this thing,” he said slowly. “I mean, even if you promise me right now that you won’t make a single sound, no matter how small, what guarantee do I have that you won’t suddenly start yelling some dirty words once our guests arrive?”
Clint snorted angrily and closed his eyes as he realized what those words meant: Loki wasn’t going to remove the gag.
Loki continued, “The question is whether I might be a little nice today. After all, I don’t want you to die on me.”
Clint’s eyes flew open, and he shot a hate-filled glare up at the demigod.
Loki laughed amusedly and leaned down. He grabbed Clint, pulled him up, and forced him into a kneeling position. Clint desperately tried to keep his head down so his nosebleed wouldn’t flow down his throat again. But Loki’s hand grabbed his chin and forced his head back. Immediately, Clint began to cough and tried to break free from the grip. He heard the laughter and felt the relentless grip on his chin.
“Hm,” Loki said, raising his eyebrows, which gave his face a pitying expression. “Looks like nobody’s in a good mood today,” he said.
His hand was still gripping Clint’s chin, and Clint coughed, gasping for air. The panic of suffocation crept up inside him, but he fought it down, not wanting to give Loki the satisfaction. He had the feeling that the demigod was mocking him no matter how he acted. To Loki, he was apparently nothing more than a little pet, barely more than a tiny pomeranian that could at most bite someone’s heels. A thing so cute and small that you couldn’t take its anger seriously. And that thought made Clint even angrier and made him feel his helplessness even more acutely.
“As you wish,” Loki chirped, finally letting him go. Clint immediately lowered his face to divert the flow of blood in another direction. But the resulting kink in his neck only made the coughing worse.
But eventually he managed to regain control of himself. He knelt motionless in the control room. Blood dripped from his nose onto the floor between his knees. He was breathing heavily and laboriously. He felt dizzy, hungry, and thirsty, and absolutely miserable.
A crackling sound from a speaker caught his attention. He still didn’t dare lift his head, but out of the corner of his eye he watched Loki. The crackling from the speaker repeated, and the demigod seemed to be doing something. Then he leaned forward and said, “Hello? This is Loki Odinson. I’m calling the alien ship.”
There was another crackling in the speakers. Loki muttered to himself, seemed to adjust something again, and then said, “This is Loki Odinson. I am calling the alien ship.”
This time, a reply came through. However, the language was completely foreign to Clint.
Loki snorted, “Well, I should have expected that. This is Loki Odinson. I don’t understand the language. Well, I probably don’t understand theirs either. Nevertheless, I’ll just ask for permission to dock.”
A few seconds later, a reply came, but once again Clint didn’t understand a word. He heard Loki mutter something and then adjust a setting.
Minutes passed. Then Loki let out a gasp of astonishment. Clint dared to lift his head briefly to look out the window as well. The alien ship now filled his entire field of vision. Clint shuddered. The ship’s dimensions were simply too vast for him to comprehend. Over 200 kilometers long—that was a length Clint could barely imagine. It was simply too much for his mind to truly grasp. That was more than the distance between New York and Washington, a trip that took four hours in normal traffic.
But he couldn’t tell what had caused Loki to let out that exclamation. Still, he was forced to quickly lower his head again, not wanting to trigger another coughing fit.
“We have visitors,” Loki informed him. Clint now thought he heard less cheerfulness in his voice. Was he getting nervous too in the face of this colossus?
Loki left the control panel and hurried out of the room with quick steps. Clint watched him for a moment, but then refocused on getting enough air. He heard the other man continue running, presumably toward the airlock and docking station. Confused, Clint wondered if it was even possible for an alien shuttle to dock with their small transporter, it would have to be a huge coincidence for the airlocks to match up.
He listened further, and to his surprise, he actually heard the characteristic hissing sound of an airlock docking. Something squeaked briefly, Loki groaned, then there was a rumbling. Footsteps and Loki’s voice: “Welcome aboard my little ship.”
Another voice spoke up. It seemed to be speaking the same language as the one from the loudspeaker.
“Well then, it looks like communication might be a problem,” Loki replied.
The other voice spoke again, but was interrupted by Loki: “No, wait—I’m missing something here.”
Footsteps approached the control room. Clint recognized Loki’s, but there were two others. They were light footsteps, and there were definitely only two feet making them. So no insect-like aliens or blue-skinned quadrupeds.
“Oh, please, if you’d just wait here… or not, whatever you prefer,” he heard Loki say.
When the strangers entered the control room, Clint cautiously looked up. At the sight of them, he furrowed his brow in surprise. Two people were looking down at him. No aliens, just ordinary humans. One was a bald man; the other was a woman with short hair. Both were holding massive weapons that looked as if they could blow a blue whale to smithereens. They, in turn, looked down at Clint, but didn’t seem frightened or surprised by the sight of a bound, gagged, and bleeding man. The woman turned to Loki and said something. From the sound of her voice, she was asking a question.
Loki smiled and shrugged. “He deserves it,” was all he said.
The woman looked at him but clearly didn’t understand what he was saying. She exchanged a few words with her companion, who replied, whereupon the woman nodded. Turning to Loki, she made a gesture that signaled him to head back toward the airlock.
“Of course,” Loki said. “Just a moment.”
He stepped over to Clint and, to Clint’s relief, finally pulled the gag out of his mouth. At last he could breathe properly again, which he did to his heart’s content. Loki, however, gave him no time to rest; he was already being pulled to his feet and dragged along.
They left the ship and actually boarded a shuttle that had docked with their transporter. It was considerably smaller than their own ship and apparently served solely for the short transport of a few passengers. Aside from a few armchairs and two pilot seats, there were two other men inside who looked at them with a serious but not unfriendly expression. Loki shoved Clint into one of the empty armchairs and ordered, “Stay there.”
In response, Clint shot him a hateful glare.
The two strangers sat down in the seats in front of the controls. Loki stepped behind them. The woman said something and gestured toward one of the nearby armchairs, whereupon Loki sat down in it. She nodded and gave him a smile.
There was a click behind Clint, and when he turned around, he saw that the airlock door had closed automatically. How these two different airlock systems fit together remained a mystery to him.
He could only tell that they had started moving by the window in front of the pilot seats, he didn’t feel a thing. No acceleration, no vibration from the engines. The ship didn’t make a single sound. The only noises came from Clint himself and the other five people.
One of the men who had been waiting inside the shuttle said something, pointing at Clint. The woman gave a vague nod and replied. The man nodded, muttered something, and then studied Clint closely. Clint returned his gaze with a grim look. The man began to chuckle softly and then called out something. The woman laughed as well and said a few words in response. Then all four of them laughed, while Clint felt anything but comfortable in his role.
Nevertheless, he didn’t take his eyes off the man. The man returned his gaze, said something, laughed, and reached out his arm toward him. Clint dodged, but the man only laughed harder and then grabbed him in the crotch. For a few seconds, Clint was too stunned to react, then he swung a leg up and kicked the man in the chest. A groaning sound escaped the man, and a predatory grin spread across his face.
“Idiot!” he heard Loki shout in alarm.
Clint saw the man’s hand clench into a fist. To get there first, Clint lunged forward, intending to ram into him. But the second man was suddenly there, grabbed him, and hurled him back into his seat. Then the first man’s fist slammed into Clint’s head with such brutal force that he lost consciousness instantly.
When he came to, he was lying on the floor beside the armchairs. Someone grabbed him and hauled him upright. Groaning, Clint tried to stand on his own two feet, but he had no control over his body. That unbearable pounding in his skull returned. Added to that was the taste of blood in his mouth and a wet sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, but red streaks danced across his vision. He blinked, and the image cleared. However, when he saw the face of the man in front of him, he flinched. Instinctively, he tried to defend himself again, but a hard blow to the gut cut the thought short before it could even fully form.
He sensed movement to his right and then heard Loki’s angry voice: "Idiot! What was that all about? Do you want them to throw us out the airlock again?"
Clint let out a snorting laugh. "I don't have much to lose right now anyway, do I?"
The man who was still holding him said something to the other man. The latter, however, looked apologetic and shook his head. Turning toward Loki, the man raised an eyebrow, said something, and then burst into loud laughter.
For a moment, Loki looked unsettled, but then he grinned too.
A surge of helpless rage boiled up inside Clint. Just as before with Loki, he felt once again that he wasn't being taken seriously. He was fighting back as best he could, yet they were merely laughing at him. Clint knew it was foolish, and he knew the consequences would be grim. And yet, he threw himself forward with all his might, actually breaking the man's grip.
Using the momentum, and catching a glimpse of Loki’s stunned expression, he slammed his skull into the other man’s face, utterly disregarding his own safety. He heard a cry of pain with grim satisfaction. But then, a searing pain shot through his body. He had no idea of its source. Every fiber of his being seemed to be on fire; there was no escape, no merciful oblivion. He simply burned on and on, wishing for nothing more than to die and end the agony, wanting only to dissolve, to flee. He was no longer Clint Barton; his existence no longer mattered. There was nothing left but pain and torment.
When it was finally over, he only gradually realized it. He lay on the ground, gasping for air, his whole body trembling. Someone knelt beside him, shook his shoulder, and turned him onto his back. He saw Loki’s face hovering above him; a lump was beginning to form on the other man's forehead.
"Hey," the demigod said, tapping him on the cheek. "Hey, you okay?"
What a stupid question.
Clint wanted to snap at him, but he could only manage incoherent sounds. He seemed to have no control over himself or his muscles.
A shadow appeared to Clint’s right, and Loki turned toward it. In the background, Clint heard the woman’s voice, she sounded angry.
"What was that?" Loki asked the man.
The man replied in his own language, holding out something that looked like a small baton. Loki hesitated, but when the man made a beckoning gesture, he finally took the object. He examined it closely, turning it over in his hands. Then he paused, and his gaze drifted down to Clint. A grin spread across his features, and one eyebrow arched upward.
"Well, Mr. Superhero," he said in a silky-smooth voice. "Shall we try behaving ourselves now?"
Clint still couldn't form coherent words, and perhaps that was for the best. He watched as Loki smirked and handed the device back to the man, who accepted it with a nod before stowing it away.
They hoisted Clint up and settled him into one of the seats. He let it happen without resistance. He sat there trembling, his head bowed; he didn't want to look at anyone. In his state of helplessness, he needed a moment to pull himself together. He wasn't the type to wear his weakness and pain on his sleeve. Instead, he would withdraw, seeking to draw new strength from within the quiet. And though he would never admit it, he was deeply grateful that the others at least allowed him that much.
Consequently, he barely noticed when an opening appeared in the hull of the colossal ship and they flew inside. Only when a gentle jolt ran through their craft did he lift his head and peer forward. Space was gone; instead, they seemed to be in some sort of shuttle bay. Bright colors and metal dominated the surroundings. Several people in work clothes were going about their tasks. Their escorts and Loki stood up. Clint tried to do the same, but his legs gave way beneath him, and he simply collapsed.
"Weak creature," he heard Loki sneer.
The woman said something. Clint heard the hatch open and one of the men shout something. The five of them stepped out of the ship, leaving Clint lying on the floor.
Fine by me, he thought.
Footsteps entered the ship and approached him. He turned his gaze and saw two men. One was middle-aged, the other significantly older. Both wore simple clothing, long-sleeved shirts, plain trousers, and simple shoes. And both wore a sort of golden collar that sat flush against their skin. Jewelry?
The two men spoke, grabbed him under the arms, and hauled him up. Clint tried to move his legs, taking a few stumbling steps, though not very gracefully. They stepped out of the shuttle, which sat nestled in a precision-fit recess between two walkways. Loki and the other four were standing just a few paces away. A small vehicle hovered toward them; the air beneath it shimmered.
The five of them climbed in, and Clint was hoisted into the back seat. Then, the two men wearing golden collars walked away. The vehicle began to move, and Clint noticed it was doing so on its own, none of the passengers were steering it.
They left the bay area through a gateway and found themselves on a street. Vehicles like theirs rushed past them and toward them. People moved along walkways beside the road, with buildings towering behind them.
Despite his exhaustion, Clint looked up and could only marvel. Had he not known better, he would have thought he was on a perfectly ordinary planet. Of course, the buildings looked somewhat alien and unfamiliar, yet they were clearly houses, multi-story structures with entrance doors and windows. And they weren't uniform; they varied. Their facades were either smooth or adorned with ornamentation. Some were white, others brightly colored. Some were shorter than others, some taller. Most astonishing of all, however, was the blue sky overhead, with a handful of small white clouds drifting by. And as they drove down the street, Clint spotted the first trees.
He exchanged a brief glance with Loki, who seemed no less astonished and impressed. Loki even voiced his reaction to their escorts, though no one understood a word. Clint, meanwhile, simply leaned back in silence and observed their surroundings. He thought he could make out shops on the ground floors of most buildings, at least, they had large windows behind which Clint could see clothing, various devices, and furniture. This wasn't just a spaceship, it was a little world of its own. How many people might live here? Clint’s attention turned to the passersby, and he saw men, women, the elderly, and children. Now and then, he even spotted a four-legged animal, which he initially took to be a pet.
The ride might have lasted around thirty minutes, but for Clint, time flew by. He couldn't get enough of the sights, this world and its inhabitants. At one point, they even passed a park featuring trees, meadows, and a lake in the center.
When they came to a halt, they were standing before a building that, simply by virtue of its size, seemed more significant than all the others. It was a white cube approached by a wide walkway. Trimmed saplings lined the path leading to a massive gate in the white façade. Their escorts stepped out, and Loki followed, though he paused to cast a scrutinizing glance at Clint. Clint had regained enough control over his limbs to walk again. Loki made a gesture, the kind a human on Earth might use to signal a dog to heel. Clint felt his upper lip curl in anger, his gaze burning with hatred. Loki, however, merely responded with a mocking grin. Their four escorts stood waiting behind Loki. One of them said something.
The memory of that searing pain was still too fresh; Clint didn't resist, stepping instead to Loki’s side like an obedient dog. The demigod laughed.
"See? It works," he said cheerfully.
Clint made no reply.
They followed the wide path and entered the white cube through the gate. Inside, both Loki and Clint looked around in fascination. While the exterior façade had appeared white and as opaque as a metal plate, the interior revealed floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides, offering an unobstructed view of the outside.
"Hm. Nice," Loki remarked.
The entrance hall was high-ceilinged and bright. In the center, there appeared to be a sort of elevator column. They were transparent tubes; inside them, narrow platforms moved up and down, disappearing into the white ceiling. Their path, however, was not to lead them upward, but rather to the right. Their escorts split up. One of the men and the woman took their leave, while the two remaining men beckoned them to follow. One of the men disappeared into a wide corridor, and they followed him. The second man brought up the rear.
They reached a room containing, in its center, a sort of padded recliner with several long rods hovering above it. One of the men pointed at the recliner. Loki frowned and took a hesitant step toward it. The man shook his head, however, and then pointed at Clint. Clint instinctively recoiled.
"Absolutely not!" he hissed.
That mocking look appeared on the demigod’s face again. A soft whirring sound came from behind Clint, and when he looked around, he saw a closed door. Yet, even if it had remained open, he would hardly have had a choice.
"Shall we try to persuade you, Mister Superhero?" Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Go fuck yourself!" Clint hissed, stepping back further until his bound hands bumped against the closed door. He certainly didn't want to get into that strange chair. But he knew they would force him. So, his only choice was how to conduct himself: did he want to remain stubborn and defiant, accepting the pain that would entail, or did he want to submit like a good dog to avoid potential pain?
A sensible person would have known exactly which option to choose. But every fiber of Clint’s being rebelled against it. He didn't want to obey; he didn't want to simply bow his head and follow meekly. His pride wouldn't allow it. Even as he shook his head in firm refusal, he saw one of the men reach into his pocket and pull out that baton-like device. Clint saw the man’s lips curl into a grin. He started toward Clint, but Loki stepped in his path.
“Wait, wait,” Loki called out. “I’ll handle this.”
The man stopped, said something, and made a jabbing motion toward Clint with the device.
“Yes, I know,” Loki sighed. “I’m taking care of it myself anyway.” He turned to Clint.
“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
Clint snorted and spat out, “Go fuck yourself! Do whatever you want to me, but I’m not going along with this willingly.”
Loki sighed in annoyance. “Humans! Your stupidity is truly staggering! You realize you have no options here, don’t you?”
Clint said nothing; he simply pressed himself harder against the door, as if trying to merge with it, while simultaneously trying to stab Loki with his glare.
“I don’t want to cause you pain,” Loki said, then corrected himself: “At least, not too much.”
“Go fuck yourself,” came the reply.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Loki made the sound. “So vulgar.” He leaned forward slightly and braced one hand against the door beside Clint’s head. He was about to say something else, but a voice behind him distracted him. He turned half around and looked at the man inquiringly. The man replied, his voice sounding clearly annoyed. He extended a hand, holding something, and touched Clint on the chest with it. Instantly, all control drained from his limbs, and Clint collapsed as if struck by lightning. He had braced himself for excruciating pain, but this time it was different. There was no pain, only a kind of numb paralysis that made his fingers tingle.
"What’s going on?" he heard Loki exclaim in surprise. Clint had lost control even over his eyes; he simply stared straight ahead.
The second man stepped forward. They turned Clint onto his stomach and did something to his restraints. With a "ping," the wire snapped open, and his hands were free. They fell to his sides, and something in his shoulders cracked loudly. Then, the two men lifted him onto that padded chair. Clint didn't know what was coming next, yet he felt a strange sense of resignation, a feeling unlike anything he had ever known. He was a fighter who never gave up, who always battled his way through life even when all seemed in vain. He had faced seemingly hopeless situations many times before and had never simply surrendered. But here and now there was no escape. There was nothing he could do but mentally prepare for what awaited him.
At the same time, his fingertips began to tingle and then ache as the blood rushed back into them. At first, he was looking up at the ceiling; then, he saw a hand move in front of him and close his eyes. Now, he had to rely solely on his hearing to perceive what was happening around him.
He heard footsteps and the men's voices. Then, a whirring sound coming from above. The whirring grew louder and drew closer. And there was something else, too. Not a sound, but rather a kind of… feeling? No, that wasn’t the right word either. He could barely put it into words. It was as if a ghostly hand with infinitely long, thin fingers were reaching for his thoughts. But not just those.
The fingers slid through his thoughts, pushing deeper and deeper. It was repulsive, exposing, humiliating. Clint felt naked. There was a kind of consciousness reaching into his thoughts, feelings, and memories. It rummaged through them, dragged them out, examined them. Clint tried to drive the consciousness away, but when that failed, he tried at least to hide his most intimate memories from it. He stood no chance. Relentlessly, everything was torn from him; everything was dissected. And only when the very last, most secret thought had been dragged from its corner and explored, only then did the consciousness withdraw, leaving him alone in his head once more.
Time passed. Time spent crouching alone in the darkness, waiting for what would come next. He heard the men’s voices. They were speaking to one another in a businesslike manner. About him? Had they seen what that alien consciousness had probed? Then, the humming sound returned. And there it was again, that alien consciousness. But this time, it was different. It didn’t rummage or examine; it… it brought something with it?
He sensed a kind of alien presence, and even as he wondered what was happening, the consciousness withdrew. The presence, however, remained. The humming sound faded away.
One of the men spoke: "Implementation successful."
The other man said, "Good, I’ll release the paralysis now."
"Watch out—make sure he doesn't go berserk again."
"Yeah, don't worry. I've seen this sort of thing before. Seems like a feisty little guy."
Something cold touched his arm. Confused, he realized that the strangers were suddenly speaking his language.
"I would’ve given him a permanent shocker a long time ago."
"Maybe they don't have things like that."
"Well—he’s got access to that kind of thing now."
The man laughed. "The little guy’s in for a surprise."
"Right, the paralysis should be lifted now. Hey, slave—wake up!"
…
Slave?
Someone shook him by the shoulder. However, the long period his arms had spent bent backward in restraints took its toll; a sharp pain shot through his shoulder, forcing a hiss from his lips. Yet there was no mercy; they simply kept shaking him.
"Wake up!" the man barked. Then they grabbed Clint and yanked him out of the chair. He struggled to control his legs; they still seemed to refuse to obey him. On top of that, he was still groggy and found it hard to gather his thoughts. They dragged him aside and then carelessly dropped him to the floor. Clint groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He could make out only blurred shapes.
One of the men spoke to the shadowy figure behind whom Clint suspected Loki was standing: "If you’d be so kind. Don’t worry, the implementation won’t take long."
Loki seemed to hesitate. He said, "Okay... I have no idea what you’re planning, but I really don’t intend to end up like our archer."
A kick struck Clint in the side, and he responded with a groan.
"Hey!" the burly man said. "Say something! Talk!"
"Go fuck yourself!" Clint managed to choke out. Another kick landed.
"You really want the shocker, don't you? You don't seem to be the brightest bulb," the man growled, though a glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes. "I said: Talk!"
"Go fuck yourself, you stupid asshole!" Clint shouted. The next kick was significantly harder than the previous ones, and Clint let out a sharp, pained gasp.
"Wait, wait!" Loki called out, approaching them. "You speak their language?"
Clint merely grunted and tried to push himself away from the man.
"Yeah," he shouted. "And if you want a taste, feel free to lie down in this shitty chair yourself. It’s a unique experience—" His words were cut off by a groan as he was kicked again.
Loki laughed. "Fascinating. I didn't understand a word, but—fascinating!" His footsteps receded, and the chair’s padding creaked.
"Right then, let's begin!"
The man beside Clint also stepped away. Seizing the moment, Clint shuffled back to the wall and leaned against it in a sitting position. As he watched the proceedings, he began to massage his shoulders and arms; his fingers still seemed slightly uncoordinated. He felt as though they weren't doing exactly what he wanted them to. The usual sensation after having been bound for a long time.
He watched as the rods above the prone Loki began to spin and whir. Clint hoped it would be just as bad for Loki as it had been for him.
The process took less than two minutes; then the rods slowed down and finally came to a halt.
One of the men stepped up beside Loki and asked, "Do you understand me?"
Loki opened his eyes and laughed. "Yes, I understand you, and... that is truly fascinating! How did you do it?"
The man smiled and replied, "A simple implementation, nothing major. We simply examined your slave's mental construct and isolated the linguistic components. Then, we simply overwrote them with the construct of our language and reinserted them. Once we confirmed a positive result, we performed the same overwrite on you."
"Overwrite?" Loki echoed, frowning.
"Don't worry," the man hastened to add. "Once your mind adjusts to the new language, it will parallelize the constructs. That usually takes two to three standard days. After that, you’ll be able to speak both your old language and ours."
"Fascinating," Loki repeated.
The man said, "Since we can now communicate in the same language, we’d like to introduce ourselves: I am Iskari Ar’delis, and he is Velkar Mor’vane. We belong to the Alien World First Contact Authority. In short: when we encounter strangers, we handle the greeting and the subsequent integration into our society. It is a great pleasure to welcome you aboard our ship, The Starweaver."
"The pleasure is all mine," Loki replied. "I am called Loki Odinson. In my home world, Midgard, I hold the title of Prince."
Clint let out a snort of laughter, causing three pairs of eyes to turn toward him.
"Your slave is displaying unusual behavior," remarked the man coolly, the one who had introduced himself as Iskari Ar’delis.
"Slave?" Loki laughed, and once again Clint saw that mocking glint in his eyes.
Iskari Ar’delis asked in a slightly irritated tone, "Is he not your slave?"
"Oh, yes, he is," Loki hastened to say.
"Hello? No!" Clint retorted.
Iskari Ar’delis and Velkar Mor’vane exchanged a brief glance before Velkar Mor’vane addressed Loki: "Please explain this."
"Well," Loki said, "he is a warrior I defeated. By the laws of my people, his life now belongs to me. I can decide whether to grant him the honor of death or the torment of a life in slavery. And as you can see, he is still alive. Unfortunately, however, he has not yet come to terms with his situation."
"We could perform a reconfiguration for you," Iskari Ar’delis suggested.
"Even though the meaning seems to be inherent in the name itself: what exactly is a reconfiguration?" Loki asked.
"It’s quite simple," Iskari Ar’delis explained. "We erase the distinctive structures of his mind, leaving only the fundamental structures, essentially, the base programming. He will still be able to do everything he can do now, but he will no longer have a personality. He will live solely to obey your commands."
Upon hearing this, an icy shiver crept down Clint’s spine, causing any further comment to die in his throat. What Iskari Ar’delis was proposing sounded worse than death. He was all the more relieved, then, to hear Loki say, "No, no! That would be too boring for me. I like to play a little."
Iskari Ar’delis remarked, "I know someone else like that." His gaze turned to Velkar Mor’vane, who responded with a grin.
Iskari Ar’delis added, “Well, you two can discuss your shared hobby later. Nevertheless, I must warn you: if your slave violates established conventions, reconfiguration is inevitable.”
Loki nodded. “Laws are laws. Did you hear that, Barton?”
Oh yes, Clint had heard it. He hadn't thought it possible, but with the threat of reconfiguration hanging over him like the Sword of Damocles, his situation felt even more hopeless than before.
Iskari Ar’delis said sternly, "When your owner speaks to you, you answer, slave."
Clint forced out the words: "Is that also one of the conventions where failure to comply results in reconfiguration?"
Iskari Ar’delis’ expression darkened. "That’s called respect for your master. And failure to show it can easily earn you a shock."
Clint snorted and then said, "Good to know. Okay, then: Fuck you!"
Iskari Ar’delis stared at him in disbelief, while Velkar Mor’vane burst into raucous laughter. Loki regarded him with a smirk.
Between fits of laughter, Velkar Mor’vane managed to say, "Marvelous, they really brought back a unique specimen. I’m getting quite envious. I’d love nothing more than to break that rebellious spirit."
Loki replied, "You’re welcome to show me what methods are used for that on this ship."
"With pleasure," Velkar Mor’vane replied, grinning. "I’ve got quite a few in mind."
Iskari Ar’delis interjected, "However, if you’d like to retire and freshen up first, we’ve already prepared quarters for you."
"That sounds tempting," Loki said, pleased.
Velkar Mor’vane added, "One more thing. It’s our custom to fit our slaves with a specific module. Just a moment."
He stepped over to a console and tapped at a display.
Turning to Loki, Iskari Ar’delis explained, "It doesn’t happen very often that outsiders bring their own slaves along."
Loki nodded in understanding. Velkar Mor’vane reached into the box and pulled out something that gleamed gold. Clint recognized the collars the two men had been wearing. He briefly closed his eyes, thinking to himself that things could hardly get any worse.
Once again, he was faced with an unavoidable situation where he had to decide whether to heed his pride or his instinct for self-preservation.
"A module for both identifying and immediately punishing a slave," Iskari Ar’delis explained. "When administering punishment, it sends neuro-impulses to the pain center. It has three levels. Once a slave has experienced level three, they won't be quick to provoke it again."
"I wonder how often he’ll try," Velkar Mor’vane interjected with a laugh.
Iskari Ar’delis shot him a brief, annoyed look before continuing: "We control the module via our intracranial chips, which, naturally, you don't have yet. As an interim solution, we’re giving you this remote control."
"Nice," Loki replied, reaching for the collar. "May I put it on myself?"
"Of course," Iskari Ar’delis said with a smile, handing the collar to Loki.
Loki took it in his hand, turned it over, and asked, "How do I open it?"
"Just a moment," Iskari Ar’delis said. With that, the collar sprang open as if by magic.
"How—" Loki began, but Iskari Ar’delis was already explaining: "It can only be opened by a command from an intracranial chip. This is advantageous because a slave doesn't possess one. If someone tries to force the module open, the neuro-impulses will switch to continuous fire until the individual is dead or someone with an intracranial chip issues the command to deactivate it."
"Nice," Loki said with delight, shooting Clint one of his mocking glances. Then he looked back at the collar and asked, "How do I close it?"
"Simply press both ends together. The ends fuse at the elemental level," Iskari Ar’delis explained.
"Your technology is truly fascinating," Loki remarked. Iskari Ar’delis smiled and offered a slight bow.
Then Loki’s gaze turned back to Clint. He grinned broadly and raised an eyebrow.
"So, shall we put this fine piece on you, Barton?"
"Fuck you," Clint muttered. He simply couldn't think of anything more creative at the moment. He looked at that golden thing, and all he could think was that he absolutely did not want it.
Loki approached him and knelt down in front of him. Clint saw Velkar Mor’vane pull out his shocker and step closer as well.
Loki turned the golden object before Clint’s eyes and said, "Just imagine it’s a lovely necklace your lover is giving you for Valentine’s Day."
"Forget it," Clint hissed, trembling. "I won't let you do this!"
Loki paused. He studied him and pursed his lips, appearing to be deep in thought. Velkar Mor’vane stood behind him; his thumb kept stroking the smooth surface of the shocker while an expectant grin played across his face.
Clint waited, bracing himself inwardly for what was to come. No, he wouldn't simply surrender to a fate of enslavement, even if his struggle was hopeless. He owed that much to himself. He looked at the golden collar and saw in it a symbol of powerlessness. Never!
Loki regarded him thoughtfully, one eye half-squinted. Finally, he sighed, gave a brief shake of his head, and looked at him mockingly. "Very well, if that’s how you want it."
After that, everything happened very quickly. Loki’s fist shot forward, striking him square in the face. At the same time, he tried to slip the collar around Clint’s neck with his other hand. Clint had anticipated the move and knocked the collar aside; it skittered across the floor with a clatter. Loki cursed, sprang to his feet, and kicked Clint.
"Velkar, if you please!" he called out.
Above him loomed Velkar Mor’vane, wearing a sadistic grin and appearing to relish what was coming next. That was the last thing Clint saw before the world vanished into blinding pain.