“Wreckage”
Magolor witnesses Marx’s demise and can’t do anything to stop it.
Word Count: 1900 Content warnings: Character death, angsty stuff Notes: Gijinka characters. Also, taking a lot of liberties with the physics of space, but this is the Kirby universe where everyone can just breathe in space anyway so maybe it’s okay.
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It sounded like a good idea at the time.
Marx was always talking about his big, grand schemes and coming up with plans that, most of the time, he'd never actually go through with. He liked to dream, and Magolor liked that about him, and so he encouraged it.
He always encouraged it.
When Marx had first brought up his plan to track down a Nova and try to make a wish, Magolor had laughed and shrugged it off. No one could do something like that. If it had been possible to find a Nova, he would've done it already a long time ago. He would've wished for his planet back--or at the very least, his family--and he would be safe and happy and not living in a shack in the middle of the desert with an escaped Noddy from the mines.
Not that he minded Marx living with him, but he had never exactly invited him to.
Several days after he first mentioned it, however, Marx brought it up again. This time, the two of them were sprawling in the sand, late at night, staring up at the stars, and Magolor knew he was serious. These were the times when their soft, muttered words to each other were always serious, always meaningful, and often raw and emotional too.
“I’m gonna find a Nova whether you agree with me or not,” Marx had said softly to the night sky, and the look in his bright blue eyes solidified it.
Magolor could only sigh softly and say, “Please be careful.”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to come up with a reasonable enough plan. They would go to another star system, find another planet that still had some shred of hope and life left on it, and see if someone there could help. Marx was considerably more charismatic than Magolor, and more outgoing too; he would go first and do all the talking, and Magolor would linger in the space surrounding the planet in case he was needed.
It seemed flawless enough.
Leaving behind the death and dust on Halcandra felt simultaneously wildly freeing and achingly empty. Magolor stood on the deck of the Lor and watched the planet disappear behind them in a blink as they leapt to the next nearest star system. Marx laid on his back nearby, staring up at the stars, polite enough to give Magolor some silence but determined not to look at Halcandra a moment longer than he had to.
As they reached the unsuspecting planet below, Marx stood up and said, “You’re gonna be okay up here by yourself, yeah?”
“Sure,” said Magolor, leaning back against the wall of the ship. “I have Lor, anyway.”
“See, it’s not great, thinking of you sitting up here in space talking to your ship all day and night,” said Marx. “You sure you don’t want to just come down to the surface too?”
“I’m not sure how this planet takes to Halcandrans,” said Magolor, “and I doubt that a Nova will listen to anything I have to say. I’d sabotage our plans before they ever had a chance.”
Marx rolled his eyes. “You’re a little full of yourself,” he said with grin. “Giving yourself way too much credit here. I think you’re just afraid to meet your god.”
“That too.” Magolor frowned and added, “I’ve heard a lot of stories, you know...cautionary tales, mostly. Supposedly, if you get what you want from a Nova, you may end up paying more for it than you expect.”
“What, like, ‘be careful what you wish for?’”
“Basically.”
“I’m not worried,” said Marx. “All I’m gonna ask for is help, right?”
Magolor flattened his ears. “Is that really all you’ll ask for when the time comes?”
“What else could I want?” Marx said with a shrug. Then he yelled, “Hey Lor!” into the empty hallways of the ship. “You make sure Mags doesn’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?”
In response, the ship hummed on as she always did.
Marx tossed his hair over his shoulder and said, “Okay, well, I’m off. See you, Mags.” He reached out and gave Magolor’s hands a quick squeeze, then hurried off to depart the ship and travel to the surface of the planet far below.
And Magolor waited.
Until one day, some time later, when he was awakened from a midday nap by every alarm on the ship screaming and flashing red. He clambered out of his seat and scrambled to the monitor to see what the Lor was so worked up about, only to find a massive, planet-sized clockwork star looming nearby.
He sat down on the floor, eyes wide, arms and legs shaking. He had felt fear often in his life, but never like the fear of seeing the face of an incomprehensible deity right outside his ship.
The Nova didn’t seem to pay any mind to Magolor or the Lor, but the Lor certainly noticed; the sirens never stopped blaring as the Nova passed by, headed on what looked like a collision course for the planet just beyond the ship.
“Oh--oh, no,” Magolor said, as the realization of just what a catastrophe this was going to be dawned on him. “Oh, god, that planet--they’re all going to die--we have to go--”
Somehow, he managed to drag himself to his feet and to the ship’s control panel. “We have to go get Marx,” he said as he tried to force the Lor to move closer to the planet. But the ship wouldn’t budge, no matter what he tried.
“Lor, please! Please, Marx is on that planet!” Magolor said, but his words were lost on the ship. Before he could try anything more, a flash of light from the nearby Nova caught his attention on the monitor.
Something was terribly wrong. The Nova had stopped, but it looked...broken? And as Magolor urged the Lor to move forward, to somehow get to the planet before disaster struck, he saw something new on the screen.
It looked like Marx.
It was Marx.
But also... it wasn’t.
He was much too far away to see clearly, but the figure had to be Marx. Magolor ran out to the deck of the ship to try to get a closer look at whatever was going on nearby. It was still difficult to see, but he knew he was looking at Marx, except not, because Marx had never been able to fly or to shoot lasers or to control electricity.
The Nova loomed over the scene as desperate, wild laughter rang through the surrounding space. Someone was fighting back--fighting Marx--and Magolor knew he needed to get there and do something. Marx must’ve been too weak when he spoke to the Nova, asked for something he shouldn’t have, and now he was suffering the consequences. The plan had backfired. But Magolor knew he could stop Marx, and he could do it without hurting him. He had to go.
But he couldn’t move. He could only stand there, trembling, and watch until the chaos came to an abrupt end.
“Captain,” said a voice that made Magolor jump and look around wildly, “we have to get out of here right now.”
“What--who? Who’s there?”
“We have to go,” said the voice. “I’m getting us out of here.”
“No, we can’t,” said Magolor, still desperately trying to figure out who was speaking to him. “Marx is--”
“Captain.” A brief pause. Then, “Marx is gone,” said the voice. “I waited as long as I could. This is a very, very dangerous situation. I need you to say the word so we can leave.”
“Lor?” said Magolor weakly. “Wait...what do you mean gone? I just saw him. We have to go help him.”
“He is dead, and we will be too, if we stay here a moment longer.” The ship lurched backward, slightly, as if trying to move on her own. “I’m sorry, Captain. We have to go.”
Magolor turned back to the Nova just in time to see it shatter in a flash of hot, white light. The shockwaves from the resulting explosion slammed into the Lor and threw her off her course, knocking Magolor across the deck and into the railing on the opposite side. He laid there in a daze until the last aftershocks subsided.
“Captain,” said the ship’s voice again in the silence that followed. “Would you like a damage report?”
“Can you still fly?” said Magolor, pulling himself to his feet.
“Yes.”
“Please let me find Marx.”
“Marx is--”
“I know,” said Magolor, gritting his teeth as hard as he could. He had no reason to believe what the Lor said was true, and yet he knew better than to think anything otherwise. Especially after an explosion like that. “I know. I can’t just leave him.”
The Lor offered no verbal response, but sputtered over toward the field of space debris and wreckage where the Nova had been moments before. Together, she and Magolor searched, moving carefully as well as a large Starcutter could through the mess, until they located Marx. It was almost more than Magolor could process, seeing him floating there, broken, with impossible metal wings drifting behind him.
The Lor moved close enough for Magolor to reach out and pull Marx onto the deck, and that was all it took; he knew, as soon as he made physical contact, that his friend really was gone. He pulled Marx’s body close despite the weight of the wings and sank to his knees, holding him, silent.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wasn’t supposed to be alone again, and Marx wasn’t supposed to be lifeless in his arms. He felt his breath catch in his throat and the old familiar burning sting of a failed attempt to stop himself from crying.
“Captain,” said the Lor as Magolor dissolved into gasping, shuddering tears. “I’m very sorry to interrupt your grieving, but I think we need to leave this place.”
“Halcandra,” Magolor said, spitting his words out as best he could. “Just--Halcandra.”
“Of course.”
He barely registered the trip back to the planet. The Lor knew the way, anyhow, and he could do nothing but sit there on the deck, and pet Marx’s hair, and cry. Nothing made sense now, but somewhere amidst the fogginess in his mind he sensed that something had gone very wrong on that planet. Something had happened to Marx there, and it was someone from the same planet who had taken his life, too.
Marx was dead and it was that planet’s fault.
And Magolor was going to get revenge.
