Chapter Text
The muffled sound of struggle reverberated through the locked door, and Ava had to bite back a sigh. She was familiar with the furious growling an omega in heat was capable of producing, but it didn’t mean she was comfortable with it. The opposite, if she was honest with herself. He didn’t smell too much like the heat-scent she knew, but… it was just her luck, really. Both omegas she’d gotten close with- she wasn’t going to think too deeply about that. She was still trying to figure out who had made the monumental fuckup that had put one of her vital shipmates out of commission.
Omegas weren’t exactly common, they honestly never had been, but she knew that the C.O.I, or the stations that had become the C.O.I, were very thorough with their briefing. Everyone in the Consolidation was supposed to know the danger of an omega in full heat, the fury that had killed many and maimed more. She knew that every omega in the fleet was on suppressants from first presentation, she knew that Jack had been taking his reliably for years, and she knew that medical had had a year’s worth of backup supply.
So why the fuck was her best welder and maintenance tech half tied to a bed and out of his damn mind?
And then, in yet another instance of the universe hating her specifically, the door darkened with figures that she really didn’t want to see right now. One of her dockworkers — Jenny, she thinks — was leading two prisoner transport guards. Prisoner transport guards who were each holding a chain attached to cuffs attached to the wrists of a man whose gaze, even downcast, set Ava’s hairs on edge.
She was of course no stranger to the Convict Realisation Program, no ship’s officer in the Consolidation was. She’d overseen the Realisation of three convicts herself, apprenticing them to maintenance and other technicians, though one particularly troublesome alpha had started on basic hard labour. This particular convict, though, wasn’t destined for something so kind.
The Eden terrorist responsible for the destruction of Filament Station. A man with the blood of over a hundred innocent people on his hands. A man who — ugh, he even smelled of blood. Fitting, considering what he’d done, she supposed.
(Something deep within her whines. He smelled like- no. No, she wasn’t thinking about that right now. She couldn’t afford to think about her.)
“Captain.” One of the guards, snapping a quick salute before settling back into his wary posture, addressed her. “We’ve got a delivery for you, though,” he paused, sniffing, and winced at the feral snarl echoing through the door, “we’ve got some time to hold this one if you’ve got, uh, other problems to deal with.” She was almost tempted to take him up on the offer.
Almost.
“There’s no need for that,” she replied. “We have room to hold him. Might as well get the transfer done.” The guards shared a look before the spokesman turned back to her.
“And to tell you the truth, Captain, we’ll be glad of it. Creepy fucker ain’t exactly pleasant company.” The second guard produced a file from a bag on his side. Routine transfer paperwork. That, Ava can do. And do it well, too, in spite of the sound of angry omega and heat-scent creeping through the locked door.
The convict himself hadn’t said a word through the transfer process, remaining still and silent. She found herself hard pressed to argue with the guard’s earlier words, even when the men had said their goodbyes and handed the ends of the convict’s chains to her. The only noise she’d heard out of him was a slight growl, quickly choked off, as he was tugged off balance.
Creepy fucker.
Ava was gearing up to give her introduction when a noise snapped her attention away from the convict to the locked room. Screeching metal and repeated impacts, something solid hitting an ungiving surface. Shit.
“Cap, he’s breaking the bed,” called David. He was worried, too, something she quietly wished she could afford to show. Jack was irreplaceable, and if he fucked up any part of himself they’d be delayed further on fulfilling their orders. And if he damaged his hands…
She knew from bitter experience that an omega who’d been on suppressants for years, thrown into an unexpected and violent heat, was especially unpredictable and dangerous to themself and others. “Tell me someone’s called medical.”
“Doc’s in the middle of a procedure, but they’ll be on their way afterward, Captain.” She didn’t even know who answered her question. She should, she tried to know all her crew’s names, but- fuck. She was trying to remain professional, though her body really hadn’t gotten the memo (Ava was not thinking with her knot, no matter how much the offending body part really wanted attention). She didn’t actually need medical to know how dire the situation was. Her ship didn’t stock the kind of sedatives that could put down an omega in heat, that shit was rare, intense, and expensive. But, without intervention, Jack could wind up severely injured or even dead. That left her one option. If Ava was being honest, the thought didn’t sit well with her, even though Jack had given permission if it became necessary. Despite her reserves, though, it was her job as captain to make the hard choices. Her job as captain to ensure the safety of her crew, no matter the cost. Her job to make the call. And so she does.
“Is there anyone who could heat partner him?”
She didn’t expect a rush of responses once she asked the question, and she didn’t get them either. Heat partnering an omega was dangerous, dubious morals notwithstanding. An omega in fury could and would kill anyone that tried to approach them, and knotting them down had the very real risk of getting your knot torn off. Unsurprising that most people weren’t willing to take the risk. She herself had several scars from her time with- it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to go down that memory train. She couldn’t, not right now.
But Ava regardless couldn’t be the one to heat partner Jack. Horrendous power imbalance aside, she couldn’t afford to risk death or maiming. She had to protect all her crew.
“Captain?” Jules’ question is hesitant, quiet, but still enough to snap her focus off Jack to him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze (unsurprising, really, most alphas haven’t had exposure to heat pheromones before. Even she was having to fight off knotbrain, and she had.)
“What is it, Jules?”
He hesitated again, shifting nervously, but visibly centred himself and carried on. “What, uh. What about him?”
It took her a second to realise who he was talking about, but she followed his eyes past herself to the uncomfortable looking convict that she’d pulled along behind her when she’d gone to the observation window. The man remained still and quiet, but she could see tension in his face and he startled slightly when the focus shifted to him. The blood smell still hung in the air around him. She was about to dismiss the idea on principle, especially since his file hadn’t included his subgender, but…
The convict was large, tall and muscled despite his narrow frame. Just from looking at him, she’d assume alpha, but he wasn’t reacting to the heat-scent like she’d expect. Beta, probably. Maybe that was a good thing. A beta was less likely to get caught up in instincts, and she’d like to avoid significant injury to Jack and whoever heat partnered him if she could. Plus, the convict wouldn’t have a job until Jack recovered. They couldn’t exactly send a sub down with subpar welds, not if they wanted to recover it intact.
The convict was clearly unhappy with the amount of attention on him, and she sees him force down a flinch when she tugged on his chain to reclaim his attention. “Are you injured anywhere, convict?” She didn’t bother trying to moderate the harshness of her voice. He needed to know that she was the one in command of his fate. She’d been trained not to use her subgender to influence command, but exceptional circumstances called for exceptions.
He was silent for a second, dark eyes locked on her, before she loses her patience and jerks his chains again to make him focus. “I asked you a question, convict. Answer it.” She was close to snarling, and she couldn’t find the effort to care. He stuttered for a second before finally answering her. “I- no, I’m not- not injured, ma’am.” His voice was deep and quiet, with a rasping undertone that she’s not sure why she noticed. Polite, too. Surprising, for an Eden captive. She’d had some impressive insults thrown her way in her time.
She can’t believe she was considering this.
“You were a soldier, correct, convict? A fighter?” She knows that he was, her skim of his background depicted a man who’d been trained to fight. And trained well. He’d had a record of fights in prison, often outnumbered but apparently giving as well as he got.
“Yes, ma’am.” He was still watching her warily, standing still in a way she’s not sure she likes. But he was surrounded by her crew, and Ava herself had a stun baton clipped to her belt. She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Fuck, the whole situation was a literal and figurative headache.
She met his eyes again, and he breaks eye contact before returning his gaze to hers. Definitely not an alpha, she affirmed. An alpha couldn’t help but match that challenge. Probably a good thing. “Well, convict, I can’t say I expected to be doing this but we’re out of options. And the task that you were going to be given is currently delayed. So you’re going to solve a problem for us, and possibly even save a life.” He twitches when she said that, another smothered flinch, and she took the opportunity to step closer to him. The blood scent had soured when he reacted, and she could see him take quick deep breaths before it evened out.
That really was the scent of his pheromones.
She continued, “I’m sure you can smell the problem we’re dealing with. This is where you and your fighting experience comes in. You’re going to heat partner my crew member, and keep him from injuring himself too badly. Or injuring you. But I need you to understand that you,” she pulled his cuffed hands close to her, throwing him off balance once again, bringing their faces close, “are replaceable. If you’re killed or injured, we can find another convict for your job. He is not. If you hurt or kill him, I’ll put a bullet in your head myself. Am I clear?”
He replied again with a “yes, ma’am.” She did have to admit she appreciated the respect.
“Alright,” she called, letting the convict have slack in his chains. “We have preparations to make while the convict does his task. Get to it!” She leads him to the locked doors herself, deliberately ignoring the aching in her body as it responds to Jack’s heat-scent. “We’re locking the doors behind you. I take these cuffs off, then you go in. No hesitating.” He nods, and she turned the key in his cuffs. He remained still as they open, but he followed orders and moved as soon as the door clicked open. The second he was clear, Ava slammed the door shut and locked.
The deep growling from behind the door sent electricity down her spine. She’d been remaining professional but fuck her knot has not gotten the message. She needed to get out of this fucking room.
“David, I’m giving you responsibility for keeping an eye on them, at least for now.” His expression twisted, obviously unhappy and uncomfortable with the idea, but she raised a hand to stop any argument. “I need someone I can trust to not get lost in their instincts and try to butt in there. Hopefully that won’t happen, but you’re the one I trust.” She turned to address the rest of the room. “Those doors stay locked unless we’re delivering food or fluids, approved by myself, David, or Doctor Finn. Understood?” She waited for affirmation before finishing her decree. “I’ve got shit to do, once Finn gets here tell them they can call me if they need me. Understood?”
She waited for the room to confirm her orders before she turned and strode away toward her office. She had so many incident reports to file.
Unfortunately for Ava, she’d managed over an hour of paperwork and was in the middle of her lunch when her tablet pinged with an urgent alert. And, because her day just kept getting worse, it was her head doctor, calling her back to the observation room where they could monitor Jack.
If the fucking convict’s hurt him I swear I’ll toss the bastard into space.
She made short work of the walk, storming through the halls until- holy shit, shit, what the fuck. It felt like she’d just walked into a wall of pheromones, Jack’s new-leaf scent undercut with the convict’s fresh blood scent. Doctor Finn, hurrying to meet her, passed her a face mask (thank all that was holy for someone with sense.) She presses it to her mouth and nose until she can breathe again, and breathe without her body trying to carry her through the locked doors.
“Thank you for coming, Captain,” Finn says, frowning behind their own mask and glasses. They lead her to the observation window, continuing their questioning while they walked. “Why did you decide that the new convict would be a suitable heat partner?”
She had to admit the question took her by surprise. She’d thought David would explain- but she hadn’t fully explained her thought process to him, had she? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d been trying so hard to remain professional that some things had completely slipped her mind. She began to explain her reasoning as they stopped at the window, deliberately ignoring the varied sounds quietly echoing through the microphone.
She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea of watching what was occurring in the room, but she knew that Finn had lead her here for a reason. She made herself look through the glass, bracing herself for the visual of her friend on his back- but that wasn’t what she saw.
Arguably, it was worse.
The convict was on his back, arched and whining, as Jack fucked fingers into him. Jack himself had fluid running down his thighs, but… the observation room hadn’t been set up as a heat room. They definitely didn’t have the amount of lube required to make that puddle slowly spreading under the convict’s hips. Both men were covered in scratches and bite marks, some impacts already blossoming into bruises. Omegas were known to bite, but both of them being so heavily marked was almost unheard of. And, possibly most damning, Jack definitely shouldn’t have been willing to top anyone while he was in the middle of his heat.
Unless…
Ava felt her stomach drop as Jack pushed another finger inside the man he was pinning down, the angle just enough for her to see the convict’s complete lack of resistance. The intensity of the pheromones that had almost knocked her into instinct earlier made a horrifying amount of sense.
The convict wasn’t a beta at all.
The convict was an omega.