Chapter 1
Remus
Remus laid on his cot, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the tally marks he had chipped into the concrete ceiling above him. Though he was stuck in solitary he could still hear faint sounds on the other side of the thick iron door that kept him separated from the rest of the prison. Usually it was only the quiet sound of standard issue shoes slapping on the hard rock floor as fellow inmates rushed to make curfew, or, if not that, quiet whispers of juicy gossip between younger members of C-Block. This time though, it was the uniform march unique to the Hallow guards. Remus could tell by the volume that there was more than one. Usually he wouldn't have cared much, but in C-Block guards almost always travel alone, side special occasions, and if he had counted his tally marks correctly it was, indeed, a special occasion. It was Remus' seventeenth birthday, which means he was marked for execution.
Remus had been anticipating this day for the last few weeks. For the last year, really. He knew logically, when all this mess started, that this would be the inevitable end. When you're stuck on an overpopulated spaceship with a limited air supply and a no tolerance rule for criminal activity, the gravity of your situation doesn't allow itself to be ignored. So yes, he knew that he'd be executed when he turned seventeen, like every other juvenile before him had been. That didn't stop the bile from rising in his throat though. It didn't stop his hands from shaking so hard he had to tuck them under his back to get them to stop moving. It didn't stop his teeth from rattling or his heart from pounding or the tears from stinging his eyes. No, nothing could stop that, like nothing could stop his incoming death.
Remus flinched as the door slid open. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to keep calm. If he was going to die today, he would do it with dignity, they would not hear him cry.
“Prisoner number 784,” said a quiet, but confident voice, “please stand and hold out your arms.”
Letting a breath out, Remus slowly opened his eyes. The guard was younger than he had expected. He had long, black, greasy hair, a hooked nose, and beady, uncaring eyes. Snape, Remus thought, That's his name right?
Snape stood casually and comfortably, as though he was catching up with an old friend, rather than escorting a prisoner, much less a prisoner that he knew (at least vaguely), to his execution. Remus stood as he asked, hauling himself upward with a soft grunt. He held his hands out, fingers balled into tight fists, and wrists facing upwards. Snape pulled thick metal restraints from his belt and snapped them quickly onto Remus’s wrists. They were too tight for Remus’s comfort, pinching and pulling on the skin, luckily he wouldn't be wearing them for too long.
“The doctor is on his way,” drawled Snape who was picking his fingernails in boredom.
Remus felt his heart drop. “They're doing it in here?” He asked softly. He didn't know why, but he'd expected them to do it in some bright white and sterile room, not the concrete prison that he'd eventually found minor amounts of comfort in. Dying in the cell felt like a dishonor to it.
“Just sit down and wait,” Snape snapped. Remus sat. His eyes flitted around the room, taking in the tally marks etched into the ceiling and the drawings he had done on the walls in charcoal. He thought about his mother for the first time in what felt like forever. Was she proud of him? Despite what he'd done? Despite where he was? Remus didn't know the answer.
A figure, dressed head to toe in sterile, white scrubs, stepped through the door. Lyall Lupin was as threatening as ever. A pinching sour expression rested on his face, comfortable from the years it had spent there. He looked otherwise undisturbed. He was neat, per usual, his hair swept back with not a strand out of place, and his posture so straight Remus wouldn't be surprised if he was keeping a wooden board along his spine.
“Release him and get out,” said Lyall to Snape.
“But-” Snape began to protest, but at a look from Lyall he unlocked Remus's hands, tucked the restraints back into his belt, and scurried out the door with his tail in between his legs.
Remus knew a lot of the doctors in the Hallow, he was from Rowena after all, where most of the scientists hailed from. He thought he'd be able to handle it, if he knew his executioner, that perhaps they might even be a comfort in his final moments, but his father? That was just cruel. Especially because Lyall would spare him no kindness. Remus might not have known how his mother felt, but he sure as hell knew what his father was feeling.
“Sit down, Remus,” barked his father.
“No ‘hello’?” Retorted Remus, as he slumped back onto his cot. “No ‘happy birthday’? No ‘Sorry for executing you, son. Part of the job.’
I mean really, dad. We might not always get along but a bit of sympathy would be nice.”
“It's not your birthday, Remus,” said Lyall, “It won't be for another two weeks. You counted wrong.”
Remus balked, hands that had been fidgeting with his prison uniform stopped.
“But then I have two weeks left. That's the law. I have two weeks, dad.”
“There's… been a change of plans.” Lyall reached into the briefcase he'd brought with him, pulling out a syringe with a thick needle. “That's all I can tell you. Now hold out your right arm.”
Remus hesitated before holding out his arm. No use putting it off really, if it would happen anyway. Despite the fact that he'd promised himself no one would see him cry, he felt tears sting his eyes. He shut them tight, knowing that he wouldn't open them again.
The needle pierced his skin, he felt a pinch, and a deep soreness in the muscle before feeling it extract from his arm. He waited for a few moments, for sleep to overtake him, he heard it came quickly for most. Though, he'd also heard horror stories of slow, painful deaths too. He hoped that's not what he was going to get. It didn't feel very painful yet. His arm still stung a bit but other than that he felt fine. His nose itched a little too, and his fingernails were digging into his palm from clenching his hand so hard, and-
Huh. This is taking a while, thought Remus. It had to have been at least a minute since the serum was administered, so shouldn't it have sunk in already? What was taking-
“Open your eyes, Remus,” rang his fathers irritated voice.
Remus pried his eyelids apart. Maybe he'd already died. Maybe he was in hell.
“You're not dying today.”
So, not dead, not hell. But then what was happening? Why had Lyall come to visit, and what had just been injected into Remus’s arm?
Lyall and Remus had never been on the same page for very long, but in that moment Lyall developed the ability to read minds.
“It was a tracker, it'll keep tabs on your location and vitals.”
But why? Why would Remus possibly need that? He wasn't planning on going anywhere but his cell. Luckily, Lyall's amazing abilities weren't worn out quite yet.
“We're clearing the juveniles from the station, the hundred of you will make history today.”
No, no no no. This couldn't be happening. It's not possible. It's not safe. Remus guessed it before Lyall had the chance to confirm.
“Son, you're going to earth.”