half_a_soul | Aftermath [ Locked to Jackson]

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Aftermath [ Locked to Jackson]

Once it was decided, things moved on fairly quickly. Contacting the Starjammers had been the hardest part, but once Corsair heard why, it wasn't hard to convince him. After all, he'd lost a lifetime with his two sons, thanks to aliens attacking them, and lost his wife to those same aliens later. He was willing to help, even if he didn't understand everything about how they'd manage to get there.

Which was something Jono took care of, anyway. It had required a larger PINpoint than usual, but it did the trick. From there, it was a case of following the trails laid down. And avoiding the Federal military patrols. Avoiding because the Colonial Program that ran everything out their direction seemed perfectly happy to let the aliens keep raiding the colonies so long as they could plausibly ignore that it was happening.

It pissed Jono off like few things ever had and he had nowhere to work it off. Sex, even zero G sex, could only do so much to take his mind from it, though he tried not to let it show too much when Jackson was with him. But, then, it was easier to ignore when Jackson was with him.

And then they found the planet.

A lot of what happened there was fuzzy in Jono's mind, even several days later. They got the prisoners out and he thought that the aliens would probably think twice or three times before going after humans again. But there had been a lot of fighting. A lot of it and Jono had been smack dab in the middle, psionic flames and telepathy used to devastating effectiveness.

Once they'd gotten the former prisoners onto the ship, Jono'd pulled away, going to his quarters with an apology to Jackson. He'd used up so much in the fighting that he needed time to recover and get his mind recentered. The ship was heading to Boshane, under Jackson's instructions. Now that he felt more normal, Jono slipped out of his room, casting about to find Jackson. Who was near Gray, just as Jono thought he might be. He headed that direction, brushing his mind against Jackson's in greeting before he got there.

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As long as he sees Jackson sometimes, Jono figures he'll mostly be okay. Though not waking up to Jackson next to him more often will be strange.

Jono's nose wrinkles a bit at all the sand, pulling up his coat to shield his head and pulls Jackson under the coat until they're under cover. He lets it drop, shaking the worst of the sand out of his hair. Ain't yer fault. Won'er why the shield's down, though.

That's going to be weird and contribute to more than a few sleepless nights for Jackson. He's used to Jono being there, used to the way Jono feels in his head even when he's asleep. It's going to be lonely without that.

"The generator's old," Jackson explains, reaching up to help dust the sand out of Jono's hair. "Sometimes you can only run the purifiers or the shields at the same time. The water store's probably low and the storm's not that bad." So it's an easy choice: fresh water for the colony and minimal protection from the sandstorm.

It only takes a moment for Jono to understand that. It makes sense, especially with the way that Jackson's reacted to the sheer amount of water people use from day to day back home. Take it the Program ain't so interested in makin' sure it's fixed proper, neither.

"Not very," he admits, finding Jono's hand again to lead the way down the relatively wind-free back street, which cuts between two tall buildings and seems to be serving as a walkway for other colonists who are out in the weather by necessity. "At least not now that the colony's production quotas have fallen off," Jackson goes on, shrugging a little. "Most of the first generation colonists couldn't leave if they wanted to, so the Program doesn't care."

Jono frowns, eyes turning downward as he laces his fingers with Jackson's. And he's also a little surprised by the colonists. He's not making any effort not to be seen and they're...pretty much ignoring him. It's so strange, but he kind of likes it, too.

Production? What do you produce 'ere? Jono couldn't really see that there was much that could be made, but it was hard to tell.

The only thing the other colonists seem to notice is a person in black, which is a little out of place for a warm place like Boeshane. Still, visitors aren't entirely uncommon and the sandstorm makes it difficult to gawk, anyway.

"Depends on the season," he explains. "Usually raw materials, though. The ocean isn't good for swimming, but there's a high concentration of minerals that can be extracted from the water."

An' you ain't producin' enough, so they'll jus' let the colony sit. While the older colonists couldn't leave and their children and grandchildren wouldn't leave them behind.

Nothing Jono was hearing about this was making him less pissed off.

"Yeah," Jackson confirms, not entirely aware that the state of affairs for the colony is upsetting his boyfriend. It's become business as usual for the colonists and after so many years of being outside regular governmental jurisdiction, they don't seem to be holding out much hope for things to change.

"Most of the original colonists are indentured to the Program. They sign up for fifteen or twenty years, sometimes more, in exchange for something. It's usually financial. People figure they'll never pay off their debt on their own, so they sign up and the Program pays it off for them, then the person's contractually obligated for however many years of service." Which is what happened with his parents, though Jackson doesn't explain as much in so many words.

"Each colony has a yearly production quota for whatever they produce. Some colonies are lucky and their planets are suitable for terraforming and farming. I've even heard of a colony dedicated to farming solar energy from the star it orbits." Whereas Boeshane's location is unfortunate. Jackson shrugs a little. "When a colony fails to meet it's yearly quota, then it starts gaining interest. Really, when you think about it, sometimes the Program is the same system a lot of people were trying to escape, a huge debt that can't be repaid." But it's the luck of the draw and maybe that's the appeal. Some colonists work off their debt on centralized colonies near inhabited systems farming crops, others get stuck on a rock filtering minerals out of the ocean.

Jono shakes his head slowly. Oi. Pain in the arse, 'at's what it sounds like. And God, yeah, it really was. But ignorin' the colony don' make any sense. You let the tools go rusty an' don' take care of 'em, eventually you hit a null point. You put nothin' in, you get nothin' out.

"I know," Jackson agrees, pausing as the narrow side street intersects with a main road and the harshly blowing wind. Ducking his head, Jackson leads the way across the road and back into the continuation of the side street, not letting go of Jono's hand. Once on the other side, he picks up the conversation, "Unless they want the colonists to fall so far behind they default on the quota or something."

Jono shakes his head, holding tight to Jackson's hand. But what does 'at get 'em? Colony defaults an'...they're out the money they paid an' the work from the colony. Frankly, ain't no way t' run a business.

"A colony full of indentured labor, I guess," he says, now thinking about this. "Truth be told, we don't know what the minerals are used for or what the current market value is for them as raw materials, so we could have made up the cost of this planet's colonization already."

He nods slowly. Even then. Does the colony 'ave a governor or summat? Someone what's got a direct line t' the Program? 'Cause it really don' make much sense.

Even worse is the idea that the Colonial Program might have failed already and there wasn't anybody out there watching out for these people.

"There's a council, but it's mostly for internal decisions and stuff," Jackson answers with a little shrug. He can see the flaws in the system -- everyone can see the flaws in the system -- but it's difficult to do anything about it from the ass-end of the galaxy. "All communication with the Program is through paperwork now. The way I understand it, we used to have a representative or something, like a case worker, but not anymore. Quarterly reports are sent in, exchanged for seasonal supplies."

Somebody should do summat 'bout it. Jono's been an activist for years. He might not always want to be an activist, but sometimes you go with where your strengths are and the X-Men have always been about making the world safer for humans and mutants alike.

"Yeah, probably," Jackson agrees, though he's obviously not sure what. Then again, maybe somebody already has. The discovery of the prisoners may just be the catalyst the colonies need.

The side street eventually begins sloping downward and ends in a long set of stairs leading down to the near tier of the city. This is the residential sector and it isn't too far to 'home,' though the winds are thankfully milder given the protection from the tier above. After a short walk, Jackson leads the way down another side street, this one lined with alcoved doors. The third alcove down, he unlocks the door with a scan of his hand and gently tugs Jono inside. It's something like a flat and furnished similarly to a twenty-first century home.

He pauses just inside the door, looking around a bit. I would've thought furniture would've come along a lot more, he says after a moment, reaching up to brush sand out of his hair.

"Hovercouches?" Jackson asks, grinning. He brushes sand off his own clothes and shakes his head vigorously to get it out of his hair. If Jono is looking for something future-y, there's something like an energy field acting as threshold just inside the door, blocking sand from being blown into the flat proper. It doesn't block anything else, though, and Jackson steps right through it into what appears to be the living room.

"It's not much, though," he admits.

It feels kind of weird when Jono walks through it, stepping up behind Jackson with a nod. Well, 'overcouches might've made sense! he protests, putting his hands on Jackson's shoulders. An' yer home is jus' fine, mush. Not sure what I 'spected, but 'at ain't a bad thing.

Jackson actually gives a little laugh at that, rather amused at Jono's protest. He reaches up and covers one of Jono's hands with his own. "Kind of weird to be here with you," he admits, biting back a grin, "but I like it." And he might have thought about what it'd be like to bring Jono home with him some day, too.

Turning slowly, Jackson slides his arms around Jono's middle inside his jacket and snuggles closer. "Guess we can finally get some real rest." Now that the most dangerous part is over, if not the worst of it.

Jono nuzzles the top of Jackson's hair, wrapping his arms around the younger man. Which, of course, closes his coat around Jackson a bit more, too. Guess so. Feel like I ain't really slept in weeks. Rather than days. Not that Jackson's been much better, he's sure.

Mm, that's nice. Though it's a warm, dry planet, the windstorm made it surprisingly cold out. "I could sleep forever," he decides, knowing he should steer Jono toward his bedroom and, specifically, his bed. He's a little reluctant, though, and only pulls away after nuzzling at Jono's neck.

"C'mon," Jackson insists, finding Jono's hand again to tug him toward the doorway on the right side of the room, into a hallway and down to one particular door. His bedroom is small and doesn't actually contain that much by way of entertainment, not like Jono's room and his music. "Damn," he mutters, looking around. "She cleaned." Now he feels especially guilty.

Bes' not, Jono warns, chuckling softly as he follows Jackson through the house. Gotta get up sooner or later. Though they're not likely to be getting up to much of anything right now. They're both just far too exhausted.

He raises an eyebrow as they get to Jackson's room, unbothered by the lack of entertainment. I don' wanna know how messy you could get this place. Jono can be bad enough about his own space, but that's pretty large.

"Not very," he admits, hitting the panel by the doorway to close the door behind them and lock it (if only out of habit). "I had some stuff I was working on, though." As he usually does, in that slightly-computer-geek sort of way. Stepping further inside, Jackson toes out of his shoes and pulls his shirt off over his head, stifling a yawn in the process.

The only downside to this whole situation would be the fact that Jackson's bed is a bit smaller than Jono's.

That's a downside? Jono pulls off his coat first, draping it over a nearby chair before going to work on his boots. Because Jono wears his Docs, even in the future and that's going to take a minute to get off. Yer mum's pro'ly got it set aside somewhere safe. She 'spected you to come 'ome, after all. Though after a year, she might have started wondering if he would.

Aftermath [ Locked to Jackson]

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