Chapter Text
There were more than a dozen workers on the deck. Cadets and engineers scrambled with pneumatic tubes while they built the Winchester engines. The clanging of metal against metal drowned out Dean’s thoughts as the daily grind of building another steam engine for Gehenna continued. Standing high on the bridge wing allowed him to keep an eye on the construction.
While Dean wasn’t on duty assembling or installing those engines inland, the wings were his favorite place to watch the crew. As a young boy, it was also one of the safer parts of the ship. He’d been on Mary’s Ark for most of his life. Since his dad figured that putting in the deep sea mineral aquacasite immediately after mining was key to a cleaner and more efficient engine, they’d put all their tinsel (and borrowed more besides) in a massive behemoth working vessel. It mined, constructed, and transported their product to shore.
“Come in, Dean.” His father’s voice filtered through the double doors of the bridge once he was through with the navigation controls.
Dean’s old worn work boots squeaked on the floor as he entered. He winced and rubbed his pauldron nervously when the doors slammed shut.
“Son,” John greeted with an accompanying nod. “You wanted to see me?”
Dean nodded back, his hands clasped behind him. His father might not be captain of the Mary’s Ark, but he oversaw the mining and the engine creation that would be shipped to the islands. Standing on the bridge made Dean feel like his dad would reprimand him like a worker, or worse, scold him like a child. He looked around the room, resisting the urge to fiddle with the lapel of his stark white shirt.
“Dad, I have the new design for the prototype engine. It’d make the energy source more efficient and have little to no exhaust,” Dean explained, as he motioned to the blueprints he’d rolled and brought over.
“The aquacasite mineral works,” John said firmly. “We should build around what works and concentrate on the government contracts. The manufacture and installation of the steam engines in Belo, Caelum, and Gehenna is no joke. It should set you boys for life.”
Dean swallowed the rest of his case. Once his dad decided, there wasn’t anything that could change his course.
“Instead of fixing what isn’t broken, let’s talk about your wedding.” John began to pace. “We’ve scoured all three islands trying to find you a sufficient match to settle you with for the company’s sake. And yet—and yet—you reject every person we introduce you to.”
Dean gulped. This Dean didn’t understand. Why was his dad so eager to get him to marry, anyway? He was working the family business and trying to improve it, so why this sudden interest in marriage? “Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Dean shifted in place, looking anywhere but at his father, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not ready to settle down.”
John huffed and sat back on the captain’s chair, rubbing his temples. “Settling down will be good for you, Dean. It might take your mind off meddling what you shouldn’t, and shifting to what it should have been on all along: Family.”
Dean avoided the pointed look his father shot at him. Maybe he and Dad had a different definition of family, but by trying to advance the technology, it’d keep the Winchesters secure. Why couldn’t his dad see that?
“Because of your bullheaded refusal, I’ve chosen someone for you,” John stated with finality. “You’ll meet next week.”
Dean jerked his head, but John waved him away. “You’re dismissed, Dean.”
Dean didn’t remember going out of the bridge and down the ladders, but he found himself in his room, staring blankly at the wall. He lowered himself down to the floor in a crouch and started to breathe deeply to prevent himself from punching something in anger.
Dean felt like his life was crumbling around him. There was no getting out of this one.
When he’d calmed down, Dean ended up in front of his mom’s cabin. There was rustling inside, so he knocked.
“Come in!” Mary hollered.
As soon as Dean entered, Mary lit up.
He saw his mom was sitting primly on the bed, her white peasant shirt tucked underneath the leather underbust she used to protect her clothes. He’d never seen her wear skirts on the Ark; she preferred lace-up pantaloons so she could assist the mechanics where she was needed.
“Dean,” she said as she stood. When his arms wrapped around her and his chin rested on her hairline, she visibly relaxed and exhaled a sigh.
“Mom,” he mumbled into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and held her out at arm’s length. “Dad... he…”
Mary’s face crumpled, and she pulled away from him to take a seat on the bed’s edge. She waved towards the chair at the vanity.
“I understand that the news came as a shock, Dean,” Mary whispered as she squeezed his hand. “It’s not right.”
Dean glanced in the arched mirror and felt like he had aged a year. The cogs in the glass turned as Dean shut off the light, not able to bear his reflection any longer. Dean sat in the chair, his thoughts far away.
“Did he even say why?” Dean asked the question that he couldn’t voice to his father.
“Your father has it in his head that you’ll get purpose once you marry.” Dean scoffed while Mary patted the back of his fingers. “It doesn’t hurt that the merger will send a good number of contracts our way.”
If anyone understood Dean’s predicament, it would be his mother. Grandpa Samuel handed her to John, the poorest of his employees, to teach her a lesson for her headstrong ways. Well, the joke was on him. John may have been poor once, but he ain’t poor now.
Dean could only imagine how painful it must have been to be forced into an arranged marriage, despite John and Mary learning to tolerate each other later on. Dean didn’t want to be part of another.
“I told him how I felt about it,” Mary said. She walked to her bedside table, pulled out a few papers, and gave them to Dean. He rifled through the stack, eyes widening as he read the text.
“Mom, this is…” Dean’s mouth dropped in awe.
Somehow she’d gotten him and Sam an introduction as crew in a freighter ship out of Caelum. The letter announced that they were boarding the NISC Twelve, and Dean knew it was Benny Lafitte who captained it. His mom seemed ready, in case something like this happened, and she must have cashed in on a few favors to get them that ride.
“To the States?” he asked in an excited, hushed tone.
She cupped his cheek and smiled at him. “Yes. You boys can be free of this place.”
Dean’s head shot up, and he looked at her with panic. He didn’t want to leave his mother here to take the brunt of his father’s anger once he found Dean and Sam gone.
Mary ruffled his hair, then walked back to the bed. Dean opened his mouth only to close it with a snap. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “What about you, mom?”
Mary shrugged. “I’ll be fine, Dean. Don’t worry about me. My place is here. Now go tell your brother to pack.” She turned back to her vanity and felt around the bottom. She returned to him with a folded stack of twenty-tinsel bills, enough to buy food and accommodation for a few days with some leftover for contingencies. “Here.” She deposited the pile into his hand.
He stared at the money with his mouth held open. “Mom?”
She grinned at him and pointed to his pocket. “Put it away and go get ready. The boat leaves tomorrow.”
-o-
The night air was heavy with humidity. Steam engines that were steadily chugging to supply energy for the cities did not help. Their constant thrumming noise in the background and the thick white steam that hung around their islands acted as a mark of civilization.
Amid the heat, Castiel opened the arched French doors of his balcony to let the lazy winds of the summer into his room. It did little for the temperature, but at least he felt a little less closed-in.
He resumed dressing and selected brass cufflinks to go with the buttons of his overcoat. Choosing to ignore the gold-and-diamond encrusted chain jewelry that his brother Michael sent up a while ago, he fiddled with his sleeves. The ornaments Michael gave him glittered with the lights, but it was too vulgar.
Novaks, Michael said, did nothing by halves.
With a last glance at his visage, Castiel ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it but knowing it would be hopelessly disheveled anyway. He steeled his breath and walked out of his room to hurry towards the ballroom through the servants’ passages. The Novak Mansion was old but had been well-maintained to retain the original structure. The rest of the islands, on the other hand, had modernized into minimalist buildings attached to the cog-and-wheel steam-powered engines that ran most of what went on inside.
Joshua, their estate manager, bowed when Cas arrived by the ballroom double doors.
Castiel absentmindedly shrugged in his coat. “Am I late?”
“It’s your birthday party, sir,” Joshua said, still with his head bowed, but Castiel could hear the smile in the old man’s tone. “I imagine you’re just on time.”
Castiel looked at Joshua fondly as the butler opened the doors to reveal the ballroom. It glittered with all the money that Michael threw at it. Ice fans powered by external steam engines blew in the much needed cold air to the attendees. Servants circulated with trays of bubbling champagne. The works. Castiel wanted a night alone with his book; instead, Michael had arranged this.
As he stepped onto the stairs that spiraled into the lower ballroom, people turned to observe him. Despite being quiet and studious, society scrutinized him, the youngest Novak male. Castiel was never in the news and didn’t attend the parties that Luke and Michael were known for. And though Castiel wished that it would grant him anonymity, the Novak name made him an enigma instead.
Guests besieged them, populating round tables that dotted the ballroom. Each one was fitted with expensive cloth, topped with lamps arranged next to the household’s best china. Even the porcelain was tipped with golden edges. The clinking of the champagne glasses accented the low buzz of conversation.
It seemed everyone of import was in attendance: politicians, officers, and businessmen were on the guest list. Only the wealthiest of citizens were graced with an invite to the Novaks’ famous parties. And no one declined an invitation from the Novaks.
Luke found Castiel before he could hide behind the safety of food, or someone suitable to pretend to dance with. His brother wore a crisp, white, three-piece suit, with a single full blooming rose in his pocket and a blood-red cravat to match. Castiel should have evaded Luke when he first smelled the bergamot and jasmine concoction that followed his brother around like a cloud. Frankly, it was off-putting and radiated ‘rich tropical assbutt.’
“Castiel!” Luke clapped his brother’s shoulder; on his other arm was one of his many adoring ladies. Castiel hasn’t bothered to remember their names since Luke introduced a new one every week. At his heels were business associates of the Novak Empire, seeking to bask for a few minutes in Luke’s shining light. Conversation stopped as they passed, trying to listen to what they had to say. “I thought we were doing this without you.”
“I’m sorry, Luke, I came as soon as I wanted to.” Castiel knew his brother, and he wouldn’t explode in anger amid a party Michael organized. He was too civilized for that. He would berate Castiel pointedly behind closed doors. It’s why Castiel heaped on the snark when adoring fans surrounded Luke.
“Isn’t he a charmer?” Luke tutted, wagging his finger; but on his lips was a secret smile of his when he knew something coming would blindside Castiel. Dread enveloped Castiel as Luke gestured towards the front of the ballroom.
Michael was up on a grandiose stage. “Good Evening, everyone! Thank you for coming. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”
There was a chorus of cheers from the attendees, who had come in their best attire—the more elaborate, the better. Suits with monocles and top hats to the side for males, all their buttons and tassels in their place. The women were in lace, velvet, and chiffon, and wreathed in jewels. They glittered in a way that Castiel was not interested in.
“Now, many of you are here to celebrate my baby brother Castiel’s 30th birthday,” Michael announced.
It provoked another round of cheers, this time some people even actively tried to tip their heads in Castiel’s direction.
“We’re also very pleased to announce his engagement to the heir of Winchester Motors!”
More shouting followed.
Castiel’s eyes widened. That he had not expected at all. He turned towards Luke, who was now baring his teeth in amusement.
“What?”
Luke took a champagne glass from a passing waiter and raised it. “Happy birthday, brother. And congratulations.”
-o-
Sam’s cabin was messy, with books on every surface. Dean even spotted Sam’s old NovaTel phone used as a bookmark.
As he frequently helped John with the business side of things, his little brother’s room was nearly always in this state. He had a severe case of ‘no time to clean’—something he shared with John Winchester. John often stressed that his two boys together would take care of Winchester Motors, Dean with the mechanical aspect, and Sam with administrative issues.
Dean remembered when his brother studied every book that came through the ship, as he mentally prepared himself to go to school in Caelum. He wanted to be a scholar and learn everything, but John told Sam that he had to help with the family business.
Dean would miss this, and while living in Mary’s Ark had not been easy, it was still home. But Dad was forcing his hand. The fighting chance Mary was providing was a gift he couldn’t refuse.
Maybe she was scared that without Dean, Dad would focus on Sam instead. And Dean knew that Sam wanted to start on that college degree of his.
“Dean?” Sam asked curiously, looking up from the book on his lap. “How did the talk with Dad go?”
“The usual: He’s set in his ways,” Dean said, as he walked towards Sam slowly. Sam still had his mechanical assist arm attached. Though Dean sat on top of the construction, Sam wouldn’t be a Winchester if he didn’t know at least something about the engines. He must have been fixing a personal project before settling down to read. “Sam, you need to pack.”
Sam straightened in his seat and slowly closed his book, eyeing Dean curiously.
“For what? Another job in the islands?” he asked as he stood up to gather his things. “You want me with you to settle a deal?”
Dean leaned forward to whisper, “We’re jumping off Mary’s Ark.”
Sam pulled back to look at Dean in shock. “Excuse me?”
Dean nodded, a serious expression in place. “Mom got us a way out.”
Sam gaped. “What about the stuff here? We’re still building several machines, and there’s that big contract with NovaCorp about streamlining the power between the islands. Not to mention the contract for the engine upgrades!”
They had employees for that. Besides, Dean had already built the prototype, Dad just needed to show it to their engineers. They had responsibilities, but his dad was a skilled engineer himself. Dean needed this. He needed to separate himself from the family business.
“Don’t you wanna see what Bobby and Dad always talk about when Bobby comes to bring salvaged parts?” Dean cajoled, trying a different tack. “The time when he jumped trains across America. Driving through all that flat country. They do call America the land of the free.”
“Wait, back up a minute,” Sam said, holding out his hand. “What brought this on? Dad isn’t throwing you out because of your suggestion, is he?”
Dean rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose to ward off an impending headache. “Worse. He’s marrying me off like Grandpa Samuel and Grandpa Henry did with him and Mom. Look where that got them.”
“Then what are we going to do, Dean?” Sam whispered. Dean didn’t even know why they were whispering, it’s not as if Dad has his ear pressed on their doors to listen in. “Freelance our way and run from Dad?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Dean answered grimly. “I thought you’d jump at the idea. Maybe get a chance at Stanford.”
Sam met Dean’s eyes; whatever he found there must have convinced him, since his brother straightened, shuttered his facial expression, then nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Make it five, Sammy. We gotta go.”
-o-
Castiel chose the docks to escape from the party—the only other place where his brothers’ thugs wouldn’t bother him was the harbor. He selected a high platform, overlooking the shipping operations as well as the fluid transit of the containers to the steamships. The sharp, briny scent of the sea carried on the breeze, overpowering the constant vapor that the houses produced for power.
The wind whipped Castiel’s hair as he stared out into the waves lapping against the dock. He frequented the seaside when he was younger, mostly because his mother believed in exposing him to the industry while he was young. The Novaks came from old money: moving goods from island to island in trade, sometimes even venturing to unknown lands for spices.
How dare Michael presume that they could order him to marry? Hadn’t he already given his enough of his life to the family? He’d wanted to travel and see the world, and his mother asked him to stay and help expand the business. He’d stayed because he was a dutiful son.
When he had told his parents he wanted to become a librarian, Luke had laughed at the request. His mother, Naomi, had unsubtly nudged him to take accounting as a course with heavy electives in business so he could network. And even though the university in Caelum was the best in Stava Istana, they had sent him abroad to widen his horizons. It would have been fine—an adventure even—if not for the fact that with admittance to Cornell came an entire apartment his mother had bought, complete with a full set of Stavan servants. It was practically an extension of their backyard.
Once he returned, he had looked into their investments. He had tried to focus on the holotech industries and wanted to stay in development. His father had said those were pet projects, none worth the attention of a Novak heir. Castiel’s talents would be used better in overseeing their main shipping business, where all the reliable income came from. Like they didn’t have managers for that.
Castiel had had five years of doing what the family deemed worthy. He was not going to be railroaded into an arranged marriage so that they could control the rest of his life. The moment that Michael’s attention shifted away from him, he left. His knuckles ached, and he realized he’d been clenching his hands into tight fists. He loosed them as he surveyed the containers that were constantly moving at the port. It reminded Castiel of how his father had expanded the Novak Empire.
Charles Novak had noticed ship captains using radio to talk between vessels. He had acquired Stava Istana Electric Holdings and channeled their research and development into designing a more effective portable communication system; one utilizing more advanced technologies than the old, crackling, weather-affected radio waves. The result was Global Radio Access Control of Energy, or GRACE: a communication hub that allowed conversation over much greater distances without any distortion. It later evolved into a navigation system. GRACE paved the way to personal devices, the forefront of which was now the NovaWatch, which had gone from trendy must-have to something that even the lowliest members of society wore.
Charles later concentrated on buying other businesses and companies to build his conglomerate. He then handed the shipping business to his wife to manage, and she had brought her youngest son along. This port was one of Castiel’s old playgrounds and why its familiar odors and sounds calmed him somewhat.
Castiel watched several vessels on the horizon as their lights dotted the sky like faraway stars. Many were waiting for their turn with the pneumatic cranes. A distant ship horn blared once, signaling its return. Castiel wished he’d had the opportunity to travel for something other than a series of boring business trips. He’d been on a cruise for Luke’s birthday, and if his older brother hadn’t been continuously haranguing him to socialize, he’d have appreciated it more.
He frowned and brought up his watch. It was the NovaWatch version he had worked on, rather than one of the newer ones that had been released after he graduated. Castiel refused to change it despite pressure from the family. Multiple micro-cogs dotted its surface for function—none of the touch screens that their rival companies used—and classic Stavan design.
He tweaked a cog until the faint light of a hologram appeared. Spreading his fingers, the projection expanded. Castiel scanned it for shipping schedules. A familiar name, the Novak Istana Shipping Company, had a ship loading at Caelum today: the NISC Twelve.
His eyes widened as he recognized the opportunity it presented. Castiel let his arm drop, shutting down the hologram. He switched his watch from personal documents to place a call by pressing another cog. “Nova, call Balthazar Roché,” he addressed the voice-controlled personal assistant that came bundled with all NovaTech.
There was a brief annoying fizzle of static before Nova found the right frequency to connect.
“Hello, darling, happy birthday,” came Balthazar’s flirty tones through the NovaWatch. Balthazar made advances on everything that moved; Castiel took no offense. “Did you enjoy the scrumptious little present I sent you in the mail?”
Good Lord, the last time the vice president of their shipping line sent Castiel anything he’d had to fumigate his room for days. The stench of sex and drugs had seeped everywhere, and he hadn’t even partaken.
“Do you know if NISC Twelve still has room for passengers?” Castiel asked, directly to the point. Though airships were already the mode of transport of choice for most, freighter ships could take up to a dozen paying passengers aboard their vessels.
Balthazar snorted. “There’s few who’d accept days of travel from Caelum to New York instead of the three-hour flight. You know she’s a cargo ship and not a cruise liner?”
“I am aware.” Castiel tilted his head up to look at the sky and sighed. “We do own the Leviathan. I still can’t believe you pulled one on Michael and named her after an orgy. Get me a single room if you can, please. The ship goes on to England after New York, right?”
“Depends on the cargo, love, but the scheduled shipment should take her on to Southampton.” Balthazar chortled. “Getting as much distance as possible between yourself and the rest of the stuffy Novaks? Sounds like the perfect birthday present. I approve. You’ll need a nom de guerre, of course. You’ll have to take meals in the mess hall, and there’s no doctor on board. Not even a definite date of departure or arrival since the ship’s priority is the loading and unloading of merchandise. But I think the crew is just about ready to leave tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect.” Michael wouldn’t think of Castiel traveling on one of their own ships, especially when he could take an airship instead. Besides, no matter how great the distance or how fast Castiel left, Michael was sure to catch up.
It was best to do as much as he wanted before his eldest brother even got an inkling where he was headed. Though water travel lacked speed, it would give Castiel an experience. NISC Twelve leaving had been a sign. Castiel would be crazy to ignore it.
“I’ll send you the tickets via your NovaBox, darling. Expect it tonight. Wire me all of your other paperwork ASAP. We usually need to file those three weeks before, but if I can’t cater to the owner, how will I keep my job?”
Castiel shook his head before cutting the call. He tapped his lip thoughtfully, Michael wouldn’t be able to find him immediately, but a little misdirection wouldn’t hurt. He pressed his watch again to open a browser and projected the hologram into an empty space. Pulling up his frequently used airline, he booked a one-way ticket to Egypt, business class, using the family digital wallet. Let Michael find that.
This was the most spontaneous thing he’d done in his entire life; it was also the most liberating. Castiel grinned before he headed back to the Novak Mansion. He needed to pack.
-o-
Though the constant work on Mary’s Ark was relentless, it seemed muted under the static of his thoughts. As Dean and Sam waited for the dinghy that regularly brought food and supplies from shores where the massive ship couldn’t make berth, Dean took one last look around.
He used to chase Sam on the deck, giving his poor mother a heart attack at the possibility of having to fish them from the sea after they fell overboard. It was a wonder he and Sam grew up with all limbs intact.
Their mother met them at the brow just before the final ladder down to the shuttle vessel, for times like this when they didn’t have a harbor. Her presence jolted Dean out of his memories.
“Mom,” he breathed as she wrapped each man in a tight one-armed hug.
She let go of them, only to find them clinging onto her. Sam had his face buried in her hair, and Dean hunched down so he could rest his chin on her shoulder.
Sam pulled away first with his eyes red and his face ‘mysteriously’ wet. She wiped his tears but didn’t mention them. Dean pressed a final kiss to her hairline.
“All right,” Dean grunted.
Sam cleared his throat, and Mary’s expression was fond. “I love you both very, very much.”
“Dean!” they heard John from the loudspeakers, which spurred all three of them into action.
Mary ushered them down the ladder so they could leave. “I’ll tell your father you left for Belo on a job. Just be on the ship by tomorrow afternoon,” she said in a rush before she hurried back to the accommodation towers.
Dean watched his mom climb the ladders, worried about leaving her behind. When he lowered onto the dinghy, he glimpsed John at the bridge, Mary in front of him. He took a step forward, but Sam began to prod him from the boat.
“We’re still closer to Gehenna than Caelum, and the train for Caelum leaves in an hour,” Sam called to Dean as they hurried. Despite the situation, Sam laughed at Dean’s groan.
Dean really hated the train.