Chapter Text
PART ONE: Survival
“Holy shit,” Erik hears himself exclaim in spite of himself. “It really is magnificent.”
“Yeah, it’s even more impressive than the one they had before,” Darwin agrees, also looking up at the enormous gleaming ship taking up almost the whole hall right in front of them.
“It’s hard to believe it flies at all, isn’t it?” Alex adds, only just catching up with them. “And they say it’s fucking fast, the fastest one yet, even though it’s essentially a flying palace. You just wait until we leave the earth’s atmosphere. It’ll be fucking brilliant.”
Darwin draws his eyes away from the ship, though with apparent reluctance. “Right, let’s get to work or we’ll be in trouble” he says, taking Alex’s arm as he pulls him away in the direction of the stockrooms.
Erik’s hardly heard any of what they said. He lingers for another moment, drinking in the glorious sight of the beautiful and gargantuan ship right in front of him. Most spaceships of the Emperor’s fleet are crafted in dark colours—silver, grey or even black. The spotless, shimmering, silvery luminescence of the Magnificence on the other hand, brightened by thousands of lights around the hall, glows almost too brightly.
Titanium alloys, Erik’s senses tell him, among the usual aluminium. Incredibly expensive, but that’s not surprising considering it’s the Emperor’s official ship—the one to get him and his family around the galaxy. It’s enormous—seven decks, stretching over the size of half the Emperor’s palace, the top deck—reserved for only the royal family and their personal servants—rumoured to be furnished as luxuriously as the palace itself and fitted with a swimming pool, casino, sauna, and hell only knows what other nonsense. The other decks will be inhabited by thousands more workers, technicians, soldiers, cooks, doctors, and many more, as well as harbouring the giant engine, shuttles, and mountains of food rations.
The men scurrying in and out of the opening in the ship’s belly further down the hall look as tiny as ants scrambling over a large rock, and Erik has never seen anything like it. The ship’s definitely gorgeous, a masterpiece of engineering in every way—elegant, fast, nearly indestructible, comfortable, and stunningly beautiful, even more so than the previous one.
Erik vividly remembers those days—back when he was a young boy and Emperor Brian Xavier was still alive—when it was announced the Emperor was to go on a trip. Everyone was outside then, nobody wanting to miss the rare and spectacular event of seeing the Emperor’s large and beautiful ship fly past before it took off up into space to take him to some far-off planetary colony, seemingly effortless as it cut through the air then turned skywards and shot off into spheres more magical and fantastic than Erik could dream of.
“The universe is endless,” Erik’s father used to tell him. “Not even Emperor Xavier has been to every part of it.”
It was hard to understand for an eight-year-old boy back then, and Erik still has trouble comprehending it now. Space. The whole extent of it. However, one thing has changed. He no longer thinks of the Emperor as an extraordinary man so strong and powerful that everything is possible to him. Perhaps that idea vanished the day that Emperor Brian Xavier and his wife died unexpectedly in an aircraft accident, when Erik was only nine years old.
These days Erik can hardly wrap his head around the sadness and pain every single ordinary person seemed to feel at the announcement of the Emperor’s death, including himself—just as though a beloved family member had died.
Simply ridiculous.
Since then Erik’s grown to secretly despise everyone who lives at the palace for everything they are and do so much that any death occurring within it wouldn’t evoke sadness in him at all anymore, perhaps even pleasure and contentment instead. After all the royals have proven time and time again that ordinary people, least of all mutants, don’t matter to them in the slightest, so why should anyone bother finding empathy for them within themselves?
They just don’t fucking deserve it.
It feels like a different life now, the time when the royal family still mattered so much to Erik. He remembers his mother talking about them in an almost fond way, as though they were extended family, and his father talking about the Emperor always with a lot of respect and admiration, but the memories just feel odd now, removed from him. He doesn’t like thinking about them much because it always leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth, and he hates that they’re so closely intertwined with memories of his parents.
Erik’s mother’s favourite story was always the one about the day that Erik was born. How his father went outside to tell their neighbours about his son’s birth only to be met with celebration everywhere. How he was greeted with only happiness that day, because it was also the day that the young Crown Prince was born, and everyone was celebrating, full of hope that this meant a continuation of the Empire’s security and stability.
“Were we born at the same moment, Mama?” Erik used to ask his mother.
“Almost, mein Schatz,” she used to reply. “It was a very special day, when two very special boys were born.”
And Erik’s heart always filled with inexplicable pride at those words.
When Erik was a child, the Crown Prince always felt like a friend he’d never met. He had real friends then, but he still talked quietly to the Prince in his head sometimes when he lay in bed at night, telling him about his day, and his worries. Obviously the Prince never answered, but Erik still felt understood for some reason. As though someone had actually listened to what he said. It was a real source of comfort sometimes, when he was sad for one reason or another.
And when Emperor Xavier and his wife died, all Erik could think about was the Crown Prince, only nine years old, just like Erik, having just lost his parents. Erik remembers sending thoughts of comfort to his distant friend, pained by his own helplessness. He so wanted to help the Prince, and he hated that there was nothing he could do.
It feels weird now to think about a time in Erik’s life when he was so happy, and he worried so little that he actually had the capacity to feel sorry for a stranger he’d never met, moreover the richest person on the planet, the boy who would one day be Emperor himself.
What a load of rubbish.
Erik catches sight of an important-looking red-skinned man staring at him, and quickly turns away from the ship, following Alex and Darwin’s path to the stockrooms, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
The last thing he needs now is to attract negative attention, least of all from a man who—in spite of the fact that he’s quite obviously a mutant—Erik has heard is Shaw’s right hand. Putting himself in a negative light right in front of the man with a close connection to the fucking Captain of the Magnificence might put Erik’s job on the ship at risk, and that can’t happen. Erik can’t risk being left behind. He needs to get on this ship.
Loading crate after crate of tinned food onto a transporter, Erik half-listens to Alex and Darwin’s prattle about the Magnificence, about the records it’s set, about its speed, its capacity...They’re clearly more than excited by the prospect of going into space on the most spectacular ship of their age, of seeing large parts of the galaxy and being further away from earth than they’ve ever been before. It’s an adventure to them, one they’ve always longed for.
Almost in spite of himself Erik recognises a certain fondness in his thoughts for his coworkers. They talk too much, and he’d rather they just worked quietly alongside him a lot of the time, but he can’t deny that they’ve been of great help to him, and, sometimes, good company. They’ve both been working for the Emperor far longer than Erik has, several years in fact. They’ve been on all the ships before, have tended to them, stacked them, everything. And they know a lot more about hierarchies and people who matter than Erik. Without them Erik suspects he might never have been chosen to work on the Magnificence this early on in his career. He has to be grateful for that, and he also has to admit that his sympathy for both of them has grown significantly since he’s noticed the dark ‘M’ signs burned into both of their wrists.
Even if he has a much bigger and more important goal to focus on, any fellow mutant will always have his loyalty.
Erik only started working at the shipyard two months earlier. It had been tough to get the qualifications with no money and no guardian to look out for him, but he managed in the end, because he knew he had to. He still does. He fucking knows it’s the only chance he’ll ever get at getting to Shaw...
And so Erik applied to be a fucking cabin boy in the fucking fleet of the fucking Emperor Kurt fucking Marko, even though at twenty-four, almost twenty-five, he’s a little too old and actually qualified to be more than that by now—he’s even qualified to fly a fucking shuttle, not that he’ll get to do that anytime soon—and even though he hated—he still hates—the idea of having anything to do with the man, let alone work for him. Or for Shaw, but unfortunately that’s a necessity.
In the end it has to be said that it was easier to get the job than Erik expected. He’s still surprised really by how easy it was, given that he’s a marked mutant. There were several interviews, but only very lax background checks, no difficult tests, nothing to make him stumble even a bit.
Thorough background checks were what he was afraid of most, and he was half-convinced that if he applied to be part of the Emperor’s fleet his past would be taken apart. However, they only looked into his criminal record, and a strange blond lady in white interrogated him for a few minutes, but didn’t ask him any difficult questions. Erik’s still not sure why it was so easy, particularly since it’s no secret Emperor Marko only very reluctantly hires mutants because he mistrusts them. Perhaps it’s just because nobody gives a damn about cabin boys, but in any case it enabled Erik to sign up as Max Eisenhardt without any problem, the fake identity he built up over the last years, simply for the purpose of getting where he is now.
As Erik drives the transporter into the stockroom of the Magnificence—a dark, cold, and large hall without windows, none of the ship’s glamour present—and proceeds unloading the tins and stacking them up against the wall, he spots a few more familiar faces among the other workers, baseline humans mostly. He nods to them, but doesn’t talk. He’s not surprised to see any of them there—the Captain has clearly picked the most experienced and efficient workers for this important trip, but it makes Erik once again wonder why on earth he himself was chosen.
He’s more than glad he was—it’s an opportunity in many ways that he wouldn’t have wanted to miss—but nevertheless it makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, as though there’s something he’s failed to notice, something he hasn’t considered in his plan, even though he’s thought about it a million times, making absolutely sure there isn’t anything.
The Magnificence’s upcoming trip across the galaxy is a big thing, a huge event and a crucial time in the Crown Prince’s, soon-to-be Emperor’s life. It’s traditional for a future Emperor to take a trip across his empire right before he assumes office, to travel through the galaxy and visit and talk to all he governors on the colonised planets on the way. They have to know him, trust him, and he has to let them know what he expects of them. It’s always a big event when something like this happens—Erik remembers Kurt Marko taking off for the same trip almost fifteen years ago, he remembers sitting outside with his father and watching the large ship disappear into space, though with a lot less enjoyment and excitement than all those times before.
Marko had been Emperor Xavier’s personal advisor, so it made perfect sense back then, after the Emperor’s death, for him to fill in for the true heir to the throne, Crown Prince Charles, until the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday, when he’d officially be old enough to become Emperor himself.
Nevertheless it was a mistake—just how much of a mistake people only realised when he was back on earth and started taking away everything people owned, punishing them for not showing him enough respect, and enriching himself and his rich friends further and further, while people all over the planet died of hunger, simple infections, and other diseases that could easily be treated.
It should have been clear from the start really, what kind of man Marko is. He was never more than the guardian of Emperor Xavier’s son, his temporary mentor, he was never really Emperor, and yet he still demanded people call him Emperor Marko from his first day in office.
He appointed administrators for all the different districts not long after he gained power, telling people it was so he could make sure food rations and medication could be distributed evenly and equitably, but it soon became apparent that it was really just a means of controlling people more efficiently
Sebastian Shaw was appointed administrator of Erik’s district, somebody they’d never heard of before, but who soon turned out to be a monster wearing a man’s face. A heartless man, who enjoyed being in power just as much as his superior.
It was the beginning of the end of Erik’s childhood. He’d never known hunger before, or fear so strong it threatened to swallow him whole. Or white-hot, all-consuming anger.
It’s Shaw Erik needs to get to, Shaw who Erik needs to make pay for all the pain he’s caused himself and countless others. Shaw’s the reason why Erik works so hard and stays so focused all the time, because he has only one goal.
Erik needs to see Shaw suffer before he dies, he needs to see him realise what he’s done, witness the moment that Shaw recognises the fact that all his monstrous deeds of the past are why his own life is coming to a cruel end.
Erik fucking needs to see Shaw squirm and scream and beg, but when he does, Erik won’t relent, he won’t stop until Shaw’s dead.
It’s why this trip, why Erik working on the Magnificence alongside Captain Shaw is such a great opportunity. He’ll never get as close to the man again, and the trip is scheduled to take almost two months. He’ll do it then. He’ll find a way. He’ll figure something out on the ship. This is it.
He’ll finally get him.
Erik’s not too afraid that Shaw will recognise him. Erik was only eleven when they last saw each other after all, and he was just one of many children that Shaw left parentless and alone after he’d had every single adult in their village killed. It’s not as though Shaw paid a lot of attention to any of the children—they meant nothing to him, their pain and suffering invisible and insignificant. Perhaps he doesn’t even remember his time as administrator of district 4213. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to Erik if he didn’t.
Erik, however, remembers every detail.
From the first moment that Shaw took office as administrator in Erik’s district he was cruel and unjust, withholding food and medication if people dared step out of line, personally making sure people were punished severely for even the pettiest of crimes, strutting through the streets as though he owned the people living in it, and enjoying the fear in their eyes. And when he heard a rumour that people in Erik’s village were organising to overthrow him, he’d had everyone killed, without even bothering to find out whether the rumours were true.
The memory of the day that Shaw’s men came into Erik’s hut, dragging his parents outside by their hair, still makes Erik wake up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night sometimes.
He was playing with his metal animals when they came. He heard his mother scream and he ran after them, even though his mother cried at him to go back to his room and lock himself inside. Perhaps it’s good he didn’t listen to her, because they set every hut on fire after they’d shot everyone who’d reached the age of puberty in the village square and left them to burn.
Erik still remembers the terrible smell. And the screams. And the silence afterwards, apart from the children’s terrified sobs.
And Shaw’s face when he came to inspect the scene later, wearing a pleased expression, turning burned bodies over with his shoe, ruffling a few of the children’s hair.
The moment that Shaw’s hand touched Erik’s hair was when he started truly hating another person for the first time, and when he, Erik, eleven years old, swore to himself that one day he’d be strong and powerful enough to make Sebastian Shaw pay.
All the children, including Erik, were distributed into orphanages within the neighbouring districts afterwards, and Shaw was replaced as administrator of district 4213. When Erik heard it he felt a glimmer of hope that there might still be something like justice in the world, only to have it crushed again, his anger growing even hotter, as he discovered that Shaw was actually promoted to lead Emperor Marko’s fleet.
Erik’s fury at the injustice of it all still burns white-hot inside him.
The thought of Shaw —after everything that he’s done—living in wealth and luxury while people all over the planet are starving makes Erik feel physically sick, but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it right now. Not yet. He has to be patient, but he’ll get there in the end. Because he has to, he owes it to them, to his parents and all those other people Shaw had killed that night.
The fucking monster.
Erik’s not stupid. He knows Shaw’s not the only one to blame, and maybe, if he ever gets the chance, if he manages to get away with killing Shaw without being arrested, he’ll hunt all those other men down, the ones who actually did the killing. But even though his hatred for them also burns hotly inside of him, and even though it would be a lot easier to get to any of them than to get hold of Shaw, Erik knew from the very start that Shaw was the one he needed to make pay most of all. The one who actually gave the order for the senseless killing. And by attacking anyone else beforehand he’d risk being arrested, thereby ruining any chance he ever had at killing Shaw.
And of course there are still the people who call themselves the ‘royal family’, even though they’re not actually a family, and even though—apart from Prince Charles—they’re not ‘royal’ either. Kurt Marko, his son and daughter, and of course the Crown Prince himself.
They’re all just as bad as Shaw, living their comfortable life of luxury, not giving a damn about starving and suffering children all over the planet. They must have known what Shaw did, and yet there were no consequences, nothing. On the fucking contrary. He was rewarded for his abhorrent behaviour, promoted to be Captain of the royal fleet.
There are still people who think differently, people who believe that, once the Crown Prince finally takes over things will be better again. This thought has kept a lot of people going for the past fifteen years or so, and now there’s a definite atmosphere of hope and excitement perceivable even among the workers in the shipyard, though none of them dare openly admit it. There’s still this inexplicable hope that Charles Xavier is a good person, and that he cares about the ordinary people, the poor people, and even the lowest of the low, the mutants.
Where this hope comes from Erik doesn’t understand. The Crown Prince has never done anything to deserve this kind of trust. In fact, he’s been pretty much invisible all those last years, happy to sit by and watch his mentor wreck everything good that has ever existed on Earth, or the rest of the Empire. The only times he appeared on any of the screens put up everywhere on the planet were for official ceremonies and the like, but he was never involved in anything truly important.
There was even a time, about two years back, when the Crown Prince disappeared almost completely, for about five months. Erik remembers word going around about an accident the young prince had had. People were awfully worried, and even Erik remembers feeling uneasy at the news, but the palace soon promulgated that the Prince hadn’t been severely injured and should make a full recovery, which put people’s minds and hearts at ease again. Nevertheless the Prince hardly showed his face for a long time, and never at events taking place outside the palace, apparently always too busy doing...what? Playing golf in all probability, or admiring his reflection.
No, Erik doesn’t share everyone else’s hope that Charles Xavier will be any better of an Emperor than Kurt Marko. The Prince is not the person Erik once thought he was, that much is clear.
Why should Erik put all his hope into one person he’s never met and who’s never shown any signs of being any better than his mentor? No, Charles Xavier will be just as bad as Kurt Marko.
As Erik lies in his tiny bunk for the last time in two months, ready to finally board the Magnificence the next morning, he can practically feel the excitement around him. Most of the other workers have been on longer trips in the galaxy before, but never on a ship as large or glorious or fast as the one waiting for them. It’s the maiden trip of the Magnificence, which makes it an enormous honour for all of them to have been chosen.
Erik’s excited too, he can’t deny it, but mostly for other reasons.
Erik turns over onto his stomach, closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep, but the thoughts won’t stop swirling in his mind.
Tomorrow’s the day. It all starts tomorrow. Tomorrow marks the beginning of the end of Shaw’s life, and, if everything works as planned and Erik doesn’t get caught, of so many others too. Of all the men who killed his parents and so many others and burned down their village. And Marko. Everyone who was in charge then and looked the other way.
If Erik can he’ll make all of them pay, one by one, even if it kills him. But Shaw first, Shaw’s the one that matters most, and so Erik can’t get distracted. He has to stay focused.
He needs to get to Shaw.