(Genesis) Chapter 11

Pride: Genesis

Chapter 11

Trials Unknown

Sorthal was an odd little planet, with two large continents separated by a faintly violet ocean. Only one of the continents was inhabited, but it wasn't that the native Sorith were a primitive race. They just seemed, based on the Alliance's scouting, to not like the other continent for some reason.

The site was on that other continent, of course. For once it was easily accessible: a large, flat expanse that had once been paved with smooth stones. It was somewhat overgrown now, but not too much so for Lance to bring the Firecrown in for a tolerable landing.

Keith was the first off the ramp, looking around the complex with a small frown. "Well, it won't be hard to remember where we parked." The site's only real feature was a bunker-like building across from the ship, built of pale gray stone covered in what looked like flowering moss. "Let's get the ship hidden and we can get to what we're doing here."

"On it, boss!" Hunk unfurled the Firecrown's camouflage tarp. It didn't really match the surroundings, and looked pretty ridiculous, but at least it would block scans. He and Flynn worked on getting it anchored over the ship as the others disembarked.

"Well this place looks dull," Lance observed.

"Takes dull to know dull," Jace fired back immediately.

Snort. "Like you'd know exciting."

Sven was staring at him, not sure what would possess anyone to say that out loud. Hadn't they had enough excitement already this mission? "Someone better knock on wood," he mumbled.

Lance rapped his knuckles on Jace's head, which earned him a death glare. "Wrong wood, dumbass."

"I'm not touching you there!"

"Knock your own, probably got plenty of experience."

Keith looked between them and sighed. "That's enough. Let's go." He adjusted his backpack and headed for the bunker.

"Yes sir." Sven followed quickly, pointedly ignoring whatever Jace had gotten himself into this time. The others fell in behind him.

It was warm here—no Kithran, by any means, but tropical. Lance pushed up his sleeves, and Hunk tucked his vest away in his backpack. The complex seemed much larger on foot. But soon enough they'd reached the bunker and circled around to find the door. It was heavy and metal, and Keith studied it intently for an opening mechanism. "Come on, there has to be something." He didn't really want to have to blow the door if they could help it.

Hunk came up beside him anyway, looked at the door, and pushed it. With a screech of rust it cracked open.

Oh. "Okay, when in doubt, just push," Keith muttered. Hunk smiled sweetly as the others snickered. "Come on. Be careful in here."

The interior was a single large chamber. They activated flashlights, and Hunk set up a small lantern. It seemed the structure was empty… but along the far wall, five colored sigils gleamed in the dim light.

"Whoa."

"That's… different."

"Wow…"

"This is… impressive."

The far left rune was golden yellow, a large downward-pointing V shape with what looked something like an anvil nestled above it. The second was green, resembling an arrow, or perhaps a tree. In the center, the black rune was almost fully incomprehensible; three jagged lines that narrowed on one side. Next was a red rune that very much resembled a stylized flame. And lastly, the far right rune was blue, looking something like a snowflake… though it also gave the vague sense of two sharp eyes watching them. Despite the apparent age of the structure, they were all clean and bright.

"Huh…?" Lance approached the rune directly in front of him, the green one. "Kind of pretty."

"They're pretty amazing," Keith said quietly. "And it seems really clean in here, like maybe the locals come around every now and then?" That didn't make sense, given what they knew of Sorthal, but he was kind of getting used to things that didn't make sense on this mission.

"Hey." Jace wasn't looking at the wall. "These things are carved into the floor, too." The others looked down; the runes on the floor mirrored those on the wall, their colors more muted but still clear.

"They're beautiful," Sven murmured.

Hunk had walked right up to the blue one, and was running his hand over it. The color was smooth and glossy, not quite metallic. "Some kinda enamel, probably. Someone went to a lot of trouble for… uh… a room."

"Gotta mean something then, right?"

"Something…"

"They must mean something, but what?"

"Locals with too much free time?"

For a few moments they fell silent, focused on examining the runes. Sven was turning in a slow circle, taking everything in. Keith joined Hunk at the blue one, while Flynn knelt over the black one on the floor and examined the smooth tiles. Jace was standing over the green rune, though he was looking at the yellow one; Lance had his nose nearly touching the green one, anyway. "Maybe it's some kind of weird art museum?"

"Gonna knock on that too?"

Lance just turned back to Jace and smirked. But then, why not? He raised his hand.

Before he could actually knock on the rune, all hell broke loose.

Sven tripped over the edge of the black rune as he turned, losing his footing and falling into Flynn. With a startled yelp Flynn reached out to steady himself, and felt his hand hit something that gave way slightly. A sharp click echoed through the chamber, followed by a low rumble beneath their feet.

"Uh, guys? What's that noise?"

"That can't be good…"

"Flynn, dude, what did you do?"

Flynn shot Lance a mild scowl; it hadn't been his fault. Though it was a pretty good question regardless. "I can't even see what I…" As he spoke the border of the black runes started to… glow? Then the other runes were glowing too.

"Dude!"

"Oh hell."

"What the fuck?"

The floor dropped out from under them.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Flynn hit the ground hard, failing at any effort he might have made to break his fall. He stayed still, only for someone to land just as hard on top of him. "Faex!" The answering groan sounded vaguely like their navigator. He braced for a moment, half expecting someone else to land on them both, but when it didn't happen he pulled himself out from beneath the other man and fought to regain his breath. "You… alright?"

The answer came after some hesitation. "Yes, you?" Sven pulled himself up and offered a hand.

Taking his hand, Flynn stood cautiously. Nothing seemed to be broken, at least. "I'm f…" The words died on his lips as he got his first good look at where they were.

They were standing at one end of a long, dark corridor. Dark, but not completely black; there was a faint ambient lighting that seemed to come from the walls themselves, casting the place in ghostly shades of blue and violet. Every couple of seconds, blinding white light flickered in the distance.

If he didn't know better, Flynn would have said it was lightning.

"…Ask me again later," he muttered finally, suddenly quite sure alright wasn't the proper word for this situation. "What do you suppose this is about?"

"Well…" Sven was looking around too, gray eyes narrowed slightly. "I have no idea."

That wasn't a good answer, and Flynn shot him a disgruntled look. "You could make something up."

Sven returned the look calmly. "But that would be lying. And unhelpful."

"Ideas are usually better than no ideas, at least in my line of—" A brighter light flashed, and a faint rumble followed it; he winced. "—work."

"Well then…" Sven had looked a bit unsettled by the lightning as well. "It looks like a dark hallway with what I'm hoping is a flickering light bulb." He did not sound the least bit convinced.

"…Yes." Looking up at the ceiling, there were definitely not any light bulbs. Nor was there any hint of where they'd fallen from. "Let's just go with that, shall we?"

Another flicker of light, that was definitely not a light bulb, illuminated Sven's nod. Well… it wasn't a convincing bit of denial, but it was what they had. And there wasn't much else to see here. Further down the corridor, the only notable feature besides the flickering light was visible; it looked like a pedestal of some sort.

"…I guess there's only one way to go?"

Sven didn't look enthused. "I suppose so," he agreed with a sigh. "Would you like to go first or shall I?"

Flynn eyed him for a moment. He had barely even directly spoken to their navigator, who usually seemed content to keep to himself off duty, and wasn't fully certain how best to work with him. Well, time to figure it out. "I'll go." He offered a sly grin. "In case we have to shoot something."

Even in the dimness he could see the other man's blush. "I've been practicing!"

"I believe you. But these are terrible practice conditions." He winked and moved forward, hand on his sidearm, watching for any sign of danger. It took about two steps for him to find it.

The floor gave out beneath him, again.

Sven jumped back reflexively as Flynn cried out, the floor suddenly awash with light. No, it wasn't the floor but an empty space underneath it. The engineer sprang back, staring at where he'd just been standing; about a five foot section of the dark tile swung back into place, concealing the blue-white light crackling beneath it as a few sparks dissipated into the darkness.

For a moment that seemed very long, they just turned and stared at each other with wide eyes. "Okay then…"

"…At least I won't have to shoot anything?"

Flynn visibly bit back a laugh. "Definitely not going to be an issue." He knelt and pushed down on the floor in front of him, which seemed to swing down easily. Beneath it, what looked like raw lightning was crackling across a tight grid, occasionally flickering up out of the opening. On the opposite side of the corridor, the other half of the panel rose up, revealing the same electrical field.

"That looks… fun," Sven observed dryly.

The engineer didn't look up, still trying to find how far the floor would tilt. He wasn't finding any apparent limit. "You do have an interesting idea of fun."

Sven snapped his head around suspiciously. "Have you been talking to Jace?"

"Not if I can help it," Flynn muttered. He had actually been talking to Kogane, who was apparently learning about battle axes from the resident Viking, but it didn't seem like the time to comment on that.

A half smirk crept over Sven's lips. "He's not that bad," he said unconvincingly.

"Objection, assumes facts not in evidence." As Sven laughed Flynn lapsed into preoccupation. The lightning below the floor didn't make any sense. "There must be a generator somewhere," he murmured, "but how would it still be running? And if we can't get to it…"

"Only one part of the floor is moving." And it wasn't that large a segment, really. With a running start it wouldn't be hard to jump. "Do you think the rest is stable?"

"I don't think so. You can still see the electricity underneath the next part." Flynn drew his hand back, letting the floor panel swing back into place. He seemed lost in thought—probably complicated engineering thought—but Sven couldn't help wondering about the obvious.

"Hmm." The panel had to balance somewhere. "Maybe if we try to just go down the middle?" He pushed down on what looked like the center of the panel, and the tile gave slightly beneath his hand. A soft hum sounded for a second, then lightning arced. He pulled his hand back, watching a few more bolts strike the center of the panel, wincing at the searing sensation running through his fingers. "Ow…"

"You alright?"

"Yes." The word was a struggle.

Flynn was giving him a searching look, clearly unconvinced, but seemed to decide it wasn't worth pursuing. What could they do about it here anyway? "If you say so. I guess now either we wait for the others and hope…" He stood and looked down the corridor, exhaling deeply. "…or we try to balance this thing out, I suppose."

Waiting. What good would waiting do? Especially waiting in the creepy lightning room. Besides, who knew if their teammates were in their own mess? "I say we balance it out. The others might need help as well."

The other man nodded, then closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe more engineering thoughts. "Alright. We'll need to both get on at the same time, obviously. One of us will need to stay still while the other adjusts, if we both try to move we'll just screw it all up." He opened his eyes again, violet gaze spearing Sven with the unspoken question.

"Yes sir." It all sounded reasonable. "I'll move."

"Okay." Flynn looked over at the wall, then moved a bit closer to the center. "You're lighter than me, you'll need to be a bit further out."

Basic physics. Easy enough. They could do this. Sven positioned himself, then looked over at his companion, who was watching him sharply. "Ready?"

"Now." Both of them stepped onto the moving panel, tensing as it rocked slightly beneath them. Sven took about a half-step towards the center as Flynn crouched, holding his balance and his breath; the rocking largely stopped. "…Ceve."

Sven didn't know what that meant, nor even what language it was, and was pretty certain he wouldn't approve of it. None of that stopped him from agreeing with it. "Ready for me to move?"

Flynn nodded. "Let's get to the edge… slowly."

The ambient lightning was still flashing as they inched their way forward. They'd both almost managed to tune it out entirely, focused on more immediate dangers. But right about as they reached the edge, one bolt snapped out and struck Flynn in the cheek. He hissed, freezing up for a moment; the platform wobbled and Sven looked over with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just startled me." It stung, but it didn't matter. More pressing issues.

Nod. "Good. Let's do this." On an unspoken signal they both stepped forward.

Lightning flashed.

"Ahck!" Sven gave a short, ragged scream as the bolt stabbed into his knee, and lurched to the side as his leg briefly gave out. The new platform immediately started to tilt his way, and he scrambled to regain his feet, but it only seemed to be making it worse as the floor shifted.

For a split second, Flynn was torn. He could move back and hopefully balance the platform out, hope Sven regained control of himself instead of staggering further… but that wasn't where his instincts took him. Instead he moved a step closer to the center, stretching his arm out. "Here!"

Flailing for control, Sven reached out desperately, and their fingers just barely touched. The engineer's hand closed tightly on his and he felt himself being steadied and dragged back towards the center, gritting his teeth against the pain as the platform leveled off.

Both of them let out a long sigh of relief, and Flynn looked at the scorched patch on Sven's pant leg. "Will you be okay?"

Okay wasn't the word Sven would have chosen, but he could work through the pain. He had to. There was no choice, and they both knew it. "Fine."

"…Alright. Let's keep moving."

"Let's."

They crept forward even more slowly this time, pausing at the next edge. Flynn looked back to him and held his arm out again. "Whatever happens," he said softly, "hold on."

Sven took a deep breath, bracing mentally as he took Flynn's arm. "Yes sir."

"Go."

Another stronger bolt of lightning flashed out as they stepped to the next panel, this time taking Flynn in the shoulder. He stumbled, tightening his grip on Sven's arm, and just barely kept his balance. The platform held.

Both of them exchanged silent nods. No point asking anymore. They were on the razor's edge, and pain was going to be part of it. All they could do was keep moving. And slowly but surely the rhythm was becoming easier, their coordination becoming nearly second nature as they forged their way through the lightning.

Neither of them was at all expecting it when after at least a dozen panels, they jumped back to solid ground.

"We did it!"

"Faex…" Flynn looked back at the corridor they'd crossed. Had it really only been that long? "Seemed a hell of a lot further than that, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did." All Sven wanted to do right now was stand here and bask in the feeling of a floor that didn't move. Or maybe he wanted to go take a shower, just for tradition's sake. Neither of those was an option; as a small arc hitting his hand reminded him, they were still stuck in a bizarre corridor of angry thunderbolts.

Flynn moved slowly towards the pedestal, testing each step before committing just in case the floor had any more nasty surprises for them. Nothing happened. As he reached the pedestal he relaxed a little, studying it with curiosity; it was just black stone, with a piece of twisted glass sitting on top of it. The glass' shape was unusual, but not wholly alien. "I think this is a key."

"Maybe it opens the door?" Sven suggested, gesturing past the pedestal. In the next flash of lightning, a seam in the wall was clearly visible.

Maybe this situation didn't call for snark, but he couldn't quite help it. "That what they teach you in navigation?" he asked with a playful grin. "What keys do?"

Sven opened his mouth to retort, and immediately realized he really didn't have a retort handy. So he just closed his mouth and tried not to look like he was pouting. Though he was pouting. Just a little.

With another grin, Flynn turned back around and took the key.

The same hum they'd heard before washed over them, much louder this time. Both of them froze, not that it would have made much difference. They only had a split second to register the sound before at least a dozen bolts crashed down around around the pedestal.

Flynn screamed. All he could see was white, pain burning into his eyes as fiercely as the rest of him. He went down immediately, smelling smoke, feeling intense heat, and somehow found the strength to roll over and smother the flames that had sparked on his jacket. That was all the strength he had. He lay motionless, gasping for breath, his heart racing as his vision slowly returned.

"Holy—" Sven's voice sounded very far away, but his footsteps were like thunder as he rushed over. "Are you alright?"

As soon as he asked that, he felt ridiculous. Of course he's not alright, he was just struck by lightning and set on fire. Maybe it was enough that he was breathing.

"Give… me… a minute… fuck."

"Language." Flynn's unfocused eyes immediately attempted a glare, and he blushed. That had just kind of come out. "Sorry. Habit."

"…Ceveo." It came out as a barely audible rasp, and Sven chose to believe it meant something completely innocent. After a few more moments Flynn slowly worked his way into a sitting position, checking over the scorched holes in his jacket and hissing in pain. "I'm intact."

"That's better than not being intact, I guess."

"You know…" Flynn closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. "Thought you… were the nice one."

Sven snorted. Of course he was the nice one, it wasn't that high a bar. He kept a watchful eye on the engineer for a little while longer; he did seem to be recovering. Looking back at the pedestal he noticed something unusual. Where the key had been sitting, there was an indentation with an odd mechanism beneath it, circuits and switches in an alien pattern. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"Okay…" Flynn had mostly gotten his breath back, and it no longer felt like his heart was going to tear its way out of his chest and do laps. He'd taken some minor shocks before in his work, but nothing at all like that. He stood shakily, the key still clutched in his hand. "Let's… get out of here… and hope the others had less fun than we did."

Getting out of here sounded fantastic. They moved to the door, which didn't have any apparent doorknob or keyhole. What it did have, set in its center, was an indentation with a curious pattern of circuits beneath it.

Did he really want to put the key in there, after everything else that had happened in here? No, not really, but options were in short supply. "Think this is it?"

"Yes…" Sven's eyes narrowed. "Don't put it in though!"

His voice was too sharp and urgent for it to be coming from simple caution, and Flynn turned to him again. "What's wrong?"

He pointed to the indentation. "That was underneath the key on the pedestal. I'm fairly sure it causes," he pointed up, "the lightning."

Oh. Flynn hadn't seen anything underneath the key, he'd been a bit preoccupied with being electrocuted. "That's not ideal."

"No, not ideal at all."

"Here." The engineer handed him the key and crouched to study the mechanism. It wasn't telling him much; it was incomprehensible from the outside, and he didn't have the tools with him to crack the thing open. Which, from all they'd seen so far, would probably be a horrible idea anyway… not to mention his hands were still shaky.

Sven watched. It wasn't looking great, certainly not when Flynn slumped backwards and exhaled in frustration. What could he be expected to do with it, really? The mechanism was embedded in a solid slab of stone or metal or whatever this door was, and he'd just been struck by lightning.

He was obviously in no shape to take another shock, either. Sven looked at the key in his hand, grimacing. We need to get out of here. Preferably quickly, the others could still need our help. His eyes darted between the mechanism and the key. One obvious, if unattractive, solution was presenting itself. Screw it. He took a deep breath and pushed the key into the slot.

"What the hell are you—"

Flynn's startled cry vanished into Sven's scream as the lightning erupted again. It ripped through him and sent him to the floor without any memory of the fall; his whole body felt like it was on fire, and the cool stone of the floor was like heaven. He stayed put, shaking uncontrollably.

Owww…

"Holgersson?" Flynn scrambled over—well, scrambled was a relative term—and checked for a pulse as his training kicked in with a vengeance. Engineers were taught a thing or two about electrocution, though he hadn't expected to be using it in a situation like this. The navigator's pulse was fluttering, but strong enough, and after a few moments he made a weak thumbs-up with the hand Flynn was checking. He sighed, relieved, and fell back. "…I see why you and Kogane get along, anyway. Couple of noble idiots." His tone was genuinely affectionate.

Sven cracked an eye open, studying him, and was surprised to see the other man smiling. Which was nice, he wasn't sure he had the energy for a clever retort. "Did… it… open?"

Oh, right. There had been a door at the center of all this drama. Looking up, he saw the door had indeed cracked, and light was glowing around the edges. "It opened." He got to his knees and offered Sven an arm. "Let's get out of here."

The two half dragged each other off the floor, and gratefully left the strange lightning gauntlet behind them.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Lance had been swearing his head off the whole way down, and he hadn't been the only one. Jace tumbled to the floor behind him, snarling every curse he knew and a few he'd made up. For a moment they both just lay on the floor exchanging more and more creative vulgarities, united in their rage at whatever the hell had just happened.

Then Lance looked up, and his mouth dropped open. "Are we in a damn forest?"

"Hey, plenty of wood for you now."

"Oh fuck off."

There probably wasn't really any wood, anyway. They were in a corridor of mossy green stone, with rays of bright light pouring from the ceiling high above. The floor, the walls, and the ceiling were all covered in thick vines, ghostly green and bristling with inch-long silvery thorns. Several of them were moving, rippling in the sourceless wind that was running through the room, to hell with any rules about how weather actually worked.

Jace took in the vines quickly, then turned; he was much more interested in finding where they'd come from. But there was no sign of the trapdoor they'd fallen through. "Not seeing anywhere to fuck off to, caralho. Otherwise believe me, I would."

Ignoring him, Lance took a step forward. He saw something that might have been a door on the other end of the corridor, but the vines were in the way… he tried to push one aside. But the vine had no intention of being pushed aside. It snapped up and wrapped tight around his forearm, the thorns digging into his skin, and he yelped in shock.

"What did you do?" Jace demanded, exasperated; all he could see was the other man's back. "Stab yourself on thorns? Get back here."

"It's alive!" Lance yelled back in a panic.

"Of fucking course it's alive! It's a plant, that's how they—" As he spoke, Jace walked up to see what Lance was yelling about, and when he saw the mockery died on his lips. "Oh, shit."

"I fucking know that—ow ow ow—get it off!" The more he struggled, the tighter the vines seemed to get.

Jace grabbed for his arm, but he was flailing too much. "Hey! Stay still, I can't get this thing off you if you punch me!" Lance didn't quite manage to stay still, but he did control himself enough for Jace to grab his arm and attempt to yank the vine away.

The vine, once again, wasn't interested. It wrapped still tighter, digging deep enough to start cutting off his circulation. Of course, that only made his hand numb and tingly, it didn't do a damn thing for the pain of the thorns. "You're making it worse, what kind of doctor are you?"

"You got any better ideas?" Jace snapped. Right about then, a powerful gust of wind roared through the corridor. The vine reared up and smacked him in the face, leaving several pale scratches across his cheek. "Shit!"

Lance started to laugh, but the vine wrapping back around his arm and making a whole new set of holes shut him up. "Fucking holy—ow!"

"Oh sure, laugh. Maybe I'll fucking leave you there." His mind was racing, despite his words. There had to be some way of dealing with this. Maybe… "…let's see if I can cut it off. Try to stay still." He knelt and started digging through his medical bag.

Stay still. Easy for him to say. Though Lance had already been trying to do just that; it seemed like the vines hurt less if his arm wasn't moving. He watched the medic rummaging through his bag, which looked like a disaster. Maybe the fall had thrown everything around. "If you get this thing off me, I'll marry you."

"…Thought you wanted it off?"

"Point. If you get it off I'll never talk to you again." His arm wavered as he spoke, and the vines tightened immediately. Huh… he redoubled his efforts on holding still, and could actually feel them loosening.

Jace pulled a small scalpel from his bag, then shook his head in disgust. There was no way it would cut through the thick stems. "Porra."

"Uh… are you seeing this?"

"Huh?" The medic looked up, dark eyes following Lance's gaze to the loosening vine. "…The fuck?"

"What the…?" Lance felt the thorns sliding cleanly out of the wounds, and the whole vine fell away. With a long exhale he staggered back from the plants, nearly tripping over Jace in the process.

"Shit. Let me see." The wounds were ugly, streaming blood all along Lance's forearm. Fortunately none of the thorns seemed to have pierced either major artery, but they'd done plenty of damage without it.

"Did it… did that…" Lance was still staring at the vines, then turned his attention to the mangled mess that was his arm. "Ow."

Jace had pulled the strongest antiseptic he had in his kit, hoping it would be sufficient for whatever germs the thorns may have been carrying. "It worked, if that's what you're asking. It didn't make a fucking shred of sense, if that's what you're asking. Hold still, this'll sting like a bitch for about ten seconds." It probably couldn't be as bad as giant thorns; from Lance's silent wince, he seemed to agree. "Got some topical painkiller here too. It's good stuff, you'll be fine."

Truthfully, Lance wasn't really listening. He'd just been attacked by vines, for fuck's sake. "Okay, other things have been weird, but this is fucking weird."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Jace agreed, wrapping his arm in stretchy gauze, then looked at the mess of plants too. "So… worse or better than angry cat-pig-things?"

"Worse!" Lance yelled, waving his arm in the medic's face. Blood was already seeping through the bandages.

Fair enough, Jace supposed. He pulled out an empty syringe and removed the needle—no sense making these damn things any pointier—then nudged it towards the nearest vine, just to see what would happen.

A small tendril immediately snapped out, wrapped around the syringe, and yanked it right out of his hand. "Okay, okay! You can have it!"

"…Yeah, that's not creepy."

"Not a bit creepy."

Lance sighed, looking down the corridor. The demonstration didn't make him feel any better about what was coming next, but what could they do about it? "I did see a door at the end… so that means we have to go through them."

That got him a look like he'd gone completely insane. Which, to be fair, the surroundings had briefly made him wonder about himself. "Go through them."

"Do you see another way out of here?"

"…No." Scowl. "Just wondering how you think we're gonna do that."

It wasn't a bad point. Annoying, but not bad. Lance stepped to the edge of the vines, looking out over them and frowning. They weren't all that different in color from the stones, but different enough. If he focused he could see empty patches amidst the tangled thorns.

"Well…" He watched the vines as they waved softly in the wind, taking in the pattern, then jumped over one to an empty spot on the floor. "There is a path, kind of."

"A path?" Jace packed his kit up and stood, trying to see what the pilot was seeing. There were bare spots. Not exactly what he'd have described as a path, but they were there.

"I mean, it'll take some dodging and crap." Lance took another step and his foot nudged a vine, which immediately lashed out and wrapped around his ankle. Luckily the thorns couldn't penetrate his boots; he stood dead still and soon enough the vine retreated. "Right, so, we stick to the path and they'll play nice."

Jace hesitantly stepped into the open spot Lance had just vacated. Nothing attacked him. "I'm all the hell in favor of them playing nice."

"You are!"

"No, actually I'd be totally cool if they dragged you away and ate you, except I really hate losing patients. Move it."

Rolling his eyes, Lance returned his full focus to the vines. They were always moving, some more than others, and the patterns could get complex. He took a deep breath and stepped forward again. "Like you could get out of this without me."

Jace followed, snorting derisively. "Or I'd have noticed the path if I hadn't been so busy cleaning you up from getting attacked by a plant."

"Sure you would." As he forged further into the thorns Lance was starting to feel off, his head seeming strangely heavy. He rubbed his temples and took another step. Was the room swaying a little, or was he?

For all his unpleasantness, their medic was good at his job; he noticed immediately. "You okay?"

Probably not the room, then. Good. On the other hand, that meant it was him. Bad. "Uh, head's weird." He took another step and stopped, frowning at the corridor ahead. "And um, I think the path is getting narrower."

"Of course it is." The wind in the corridor was picking up a little. "Define weird."

"Just heavy…" He turned. "Why?" Jace's only response was to look at the vines and frown, a frown that was both more thoughtful and more worrying than his usual scowl. "I don't like it when your face does that."

"Your face—" Jace stopped himself. "How about we get out of here and we can make fun of each other's faces all we want, huh?" He reached into his kit, looking for something expendable and pulling out a spare surgical glove.

Lance blinked. "Uh, if that floats your boat, Doc…" He didn't think Jace was really listening. He was preoccupied waving the glove at the vines, causing one to snap around and stab its thorns straight through the synthetic. What the hell that was accomplishing, he wasn't sure… or at least, not until the vine relinquished the glove.

There were traces of thick, sickly yellow liquid left around the holes. Jace muttered some particularly vile things in Portuguese. "Poisonous."

Well, fuck. That news only redoubled Lance's desire to get out of this place as quickly as possible. He turned again and studied the closest vines, stepping forward, only for his legs to suddenly feel like lead. He tripped, his foot hitting one vine, his arm hitting another hanging from the ceiling, both of which seized him viciously. "Fuck!"

"Don't move!" Jace tried to make the jump next to him, but landed directly on top of a smaller tendril. The wind roared again… and lifted him entirely, slamming him into one of the thorny walls.

Lance yelped in new shock. "What the?!" This room needed a lot of things, and getting even worse was sure as hell not one of them.

"Hey, chill!" Jace yelled at the vines coiling around him, somehow more indignant than panicking. "I've got no problem with you, just trying to help the crewmate you keep fucking stabbing!"

Almost immediately, the vines let him go.

He hadn't been ready for that at all, and barely managed to stumble into an empty spot before staring back at the wall in confusion. "…Thanks…?"

Lance blinked, then looked at the thorns digging into his arm. "Really didn't mean to anger you," he said as calmly as he could. "Go off now, be a good vine." As he spoke he did his best to hold himself still, and one way or another it convinced the vines to retreat. He looked at Jace. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." He checked himself over quickly. "I don't think any of them got through my clothes." Not for the first time in his career and probably not for the last, he thanked whoever had decided field jackets should be made of something stronger than plain old cotton. "What about your leg?"

"I don't think so. Just my arm."

He could see they'd gotten his arm. Again. "Roll your sleeves down, dumbass." Though he was worried about more than their pilot getting his arm re-perforated. "Why'd you fall?"

Lance shook his head as he pulled his own jacket sleeves down. "No fucking clue, like my legs stopped working right. Why?" He had a feeling he knew, and the look he was getting only confirmed it. "Just fucking say it, Jace."

"…I'm gonna have to carry you." He shook his head. "Can't really mix up even a half-assed antivenom while we're in the fucking Garden of Murder here."

Damn it, that was exactly what he'd been afraid of. But he knew it was the right call… stumbling into these stupid things again would be even worse. "Fine… just do it and let's get it over with."

Stepping around a larger tendril, Jace crouched and carefully eased Lance over his shoulders. "Alright?"

"I hate my life."

"I don't have to save it if you hate it that much."

Lance shifted a little, getting as comfortable as it was possible to get while being hauled unwillingly on someone else's shoulders. "Eesh, let a guy be a bit dramatic when he's poisoned!"

Jace couldn't help a grin that wasn't entirely a smirk. "Yeah, that's fair."

"Fuck." A thought that wasn't at all dramatic crossed his mind as they started through the thorns again. "It's not gonna kill me, is it?"

"Kill you? Not too likely, unless it makes you keel over into all the murder vines." Jace was going over everything he'd ever learned about poisons, despite the nagging obvious counterpoint that it might not apply to unknown alien plants. "If a paralytic that's acting this fast were gonna kill you, you'd already be suffocating or dead."

He really was a cheery one, wasn't he? Lance sighed and did his best to stay still as Jace picked his way through the vines. Once he jerked away from a hanging vine and nearly fell off, forcing the medic to reach back and grab his ass to steady him. "This is so not who I fantasized about doing this…" Blink. "Crap, that was out loud, wasn't it?"

"We'll just say that was the poison, that way I'm not obligated to drop your ass."

"Good plan." They were slowing a bit, and the subject really needed changing. "So, um, do you see the path now?"

"I see open spots, anyway." It was infuriating, really. Jace prided himself on—among other things—his well-honed ability to get through the most impassable terrain. Alliance infantry training was thorough. Mountains, swamps, urban wastelands, no problem. But somehow they seemed to have forgotten the lesson on dealing with semi-sentient puzzle plants.

For his part, Lance wasn't seeing the floor as terrain at all. The patterns were fluid and shifting; it was like a dogfight, really, except instead of enemy fighters it was angry vines waiting to punish the slightest misstep. His head was pounding, but he kept his eyes on the path.

So far, so good…

"Stop!"

Jace froze, scowling, but not hesitating for even a moment to obey. "What's—" Even as he started to ask, a vine at his feet twisted right through where he'd been about to step. "—fuck."

"They're tricky," Lance muttered.

"Yeah." Snort. "Cool, cool. Between the two of us we're smarter than a plant."

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."

"Our little secret." Studying the pattern for a minute, he made the next jump much more carefully. They were getting closer to the door, but not nearly as quickly as either would've liked. "Need me to slow down?"

"Go on. Just be ready to stop when I say."

"Got it." Safe spots were getting harder to come by, and harder to safely reach without touching anything. It was slowing them down regardless of his intent.

"It's getting narrower again, but hey, the door is closer." Lance guided him through a couple more rough spots, then shifted a little and groaned. Never a good sign.

"You holding up okay? You better be holding up okay."

"I'm just peachy," Lance retorted. My head is killing me and my body feels numb, but whatever. "Now giddyup!"

"If the poison doesn't kill you, I fucking will," Jace grumbled as he moved on.

Lance didn't say anything, because he really didn't want to have to speak unless necessary. Breathing was still going fine, so probably still not dying, but his head felt like it might explode all over the place any second. He was just going to stay quiet unless— "—Stop!"

Jace stopped and shot him a mild glare. "What, not 'whoa boy'?"

"Too many words." He waited for his grouchy 'steed' to figure out the pattern and get moving again, but he just stood there. Not surprising, he decided as he watched the vines twist. This one was complicated, but… no, he saw it… "Just go ahead, as straight as you can and don't veer."

"Trust me, I don't want to slam you into the thorny walls any more than you want me to. Lots of fucking paperwork." His confident tone lapsed slightly as he looked at the vines. Where the hell was the safe spot? "…Just straight, here? You're sure?"

"Yes."

Jace took a deep breath, steadying himself. Well, he's gotten us this far. No time to stop listening now, right? Right.

"But don't dawdle. Giddyup!"

First things first; he stepped forward despite not seeing the opening, and his foot hit solid ground. Second things second; he glowered at Lance as best he could. "I'm gonna have to give you shots, you know. Lots of fucking shots."

"Can't be worse than being carried. Or those fucking thorns."

"Challenge accepted." He fell silent, taking two more careful steps, trying not to get distracted by how close they were to the end now. A few more steps, and he felt the wind picking up. It was strong enough to force him to adjust against it as he approached what was damn near a wall of writhing vines.

"Don't veer."

"Not veering. I see it. I think." No, he didn't see it at all, every time he thought he had it the pattern shifted. And the wind was getting stronger still. "Oh fuck no you don't," he growled under his breath, fighting the invisible force trying to throw them back into the vines. It was taking too much of his focus now… he nodded once. He knew. They would have to get out of this together if they were going to get out at all. "Lance, tell me when."

Lance shifted slightly, eyes narrowing as he watched. He did see what was going on. Calling it a pattern at all might not be right. It was as fluid and complex as combat, but if there was anyone who could read that… there. "Now!"

Jace sprang, practically diving into the wind with all his strength. There was no time to pause, to even check his footing. As soon as he touched down he jumped again, just hoping he wouldn't feel a vine dragging him back. One tried, swishing through right behind his foot, and he landed heavily on clear, solid ground.

The wind stopped.

"Shit…"

"Fuck yeah! That's how you do… whatever that was."

"Gauntlet of the Murder Garden." Jace breathed deeply, letting the adrenaline calm. "I think it's a B movie." He helped Lance off his shoulders as quickly as was safe, leaning him back against the gloriously thorn-free wall.

"I feel weird."

"You're fucking poisoned." The medic started digging in his bag again, pulling out the glove, two small vials, and a pouch of clear liquid. "You're supposed to feel weird."

Lance stirred feebly and grimaced. "Plants are evil, that is the life lesson here."

"Can't argue with the logic." Jace managed to wring a couple of drops of the poison into one vial, then added some of the clear liquid and waited. Toxin-reactive synthetic was the closest human technology had yet come to creating a universal antivenom; it wasn't very good at its job, but better than nothing. As the liquid in the vial turned greenish, he poured it into a syringe and injected it into Lance's shoulder. "This should at least take the edge off."

Taking the edge off sounded fantastic. Lance closed his eyes for a moment, willing it to kick in. "Think everyone else is okay, or did they fall into murder gauntlets too?"

"Oh we better not be the only ones blessed with a murder gauntlet." His voice lowered slightly as he packed his kit back up. "…And they better fucking be okay."

Lance eyed him, but decided not to comment on Jace sounding marginally human. "Argh. I guess…" Sigh. "…I guess we should open the door?"

"Unless you want to hang around and do some more dances with plants."

"Fuck no." He looked at the door beside him. "Just, you know, hope there isn't another murder garden behind it."

"Don't even say that. The plants might hear you." Jace stood and pushed the door open a crack, half expecting a blast of wind or thorns or some shit to slam into him. Instead he saw what initially looked like an empty room tiled in gray stone… then color and motion caught his eye.

"What's the verdict?" Lance half-crawled to the door and looked around it himself; his jaw dropped.

"What the hell happened to you two?"

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Keith had just barely managed to twist around mid-fall and land on his backside rather than his face. Still, it was a rough landing. "Kuso…" He rolled away from where he'd fallen, acting on some instinct. A few seconds later that instinct was vindicated as Hunk hit the ground in a heap next to him.

"Owww…"

"Garrett? You okay?"

"Uh… I think so. What happened?" Hunk sat up and winced, then looked around the room; his eyes widened. "Uh, boss? Where are we?"

"To answer both your questions, I have no idea. I hope the others are okay…"

"Yeah, here's hopin'." He shook his head slowly. "Guess we better get outta here and find out, yeah?" He was still looking past his commander with an expression of confused worry. Keith sat up slowly, following Hunk's gaze. And what he saw was beyond bizarre.

They were in a high, arching corridor tiled with deep blue stone. After about ten feet, the floor gave way to water, rippling softly and reflecting the room's eerie light. The light was coming from the room's most striking feature: silvery coral rising up from the water and crawling up the walls, making the whole corridor look something like a underwater cave. The coral even crept along the ceiling, bordering a series of panels covered in nonsensical jagged lines.

There was something behind them, too. The blue rune from the other room was embedded here at the end of the corridor, as a mosaic of broken seashells. It was beautiful, though the sense of eyes watching them was even more pronounced… and creepy.

"Well, if we get thirsty I guess we'll be okay?"

"Ugh. I ain't drinkin' the creepy alien water, Doc hates me enough as it is."

Keith couldn't help a soft chuckle. "I think Doc hates everybody."

"Well yeah, there's that." Hunk looked up at the patterns on the ceiling, shaking his head again.

Hard to blame him. "Such a strange design, don't you think?"

"Nah, not strange at all," the big man retorted immediately. "Early 22nd-century Atlantis."

Keith snorted, though he supposed he'd asked for that. The room was pretty, even relaxing in a strange way… the cool scent of the water, the sound of it rippling through the pool, the gentle glow of the coral gleaming on its surface. But they couldn't stay and enjoy it. Work to do. "So, any ideas? I'm not seeing a door."

Hunk frowned, looking out over the water. "There's somethin' on the far wall. Can you make it out?" Keith turned, squinting, and saw what he seemed to be referring to… a discoloration, maybe an engraving of some sort, but he really couldn't tell any details. "Don't suppose you brought the binoculars for inside a creepy old bunker thing?"

"No. I didn't." He shot Hunk a mildly vengeful look. It had to have been one of the engineers who'd actually pulled the footage, and he was still—priorities, Kogane. Get out of this first.

From the blush that spread over Hunk's face, it was pretty clear which engineer it had been. "Heh… didn't… think so."

Keith put it aside. "Well, we'll just have to get over there and find out." The reflective surface of the water made it nigh-impossible to tell how deep it was, and he didn't really want to have to swim if it could be at all avoided. His pack was waterproof, but it would still get heavy. Looking the coral, he noticed it seemed to form handholds along both the walls and ceiling. Or was he imagining it?

Looking at Hunk, he saw the big man looking back at the seashell mosaic again. "Gotta mean somethin', right? I'm guessin' the last ones we said that about meant 'hold onto your ass'."

"Yeah." He came to his conclusion, turning to the water. May as well at least test its depth. After that, they could determine the most effective way of getting across. He dipped his foot in cautiously, and grimaced; a faint chill sank in right through his boot. "Good grief, it's cold." But to his surprise, he hit the bottom quickly. The water was only about ankle deep. Maybe the natives had less tolerance for—

"—Uh, boss?"

A soft hissing sound was rising up around them, and he could hear a distant echo of running water. "That can't be good…" He'd barely finished speaking when misty jets of water started spraying from the coral.

"That definitely ain't good."

Eyes narrowing, Keith ran the length of the corridor to the discoloration they'd seen. The good news was, it was a door. The bad news was, it flatly refused to open. That wasn't any help at all, but… he paused, looking back at the water he'd run through. Where he'd disturbed it he could see through the reflective surface, to glimmers of blue in the sand. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Hunk had stepped into the water, but stopped when Keith started back.

"I think there's something under the water…" It was already almost to the tops of his boots. He dropped to his knees with a sharp gasp—even knowing it was cold, he hadn't been prepared for how cold—no time to stop, no time to think about it. He took a deep breath and lowered his face into the water, and he could see it perfectly. "It's the rune on the wall there," he declared, standing and tossing his pack next to the door. "But it's like it's missing something, missing pieces…"

Hunk was staring at him in disbelief. Then slowly his eyes raised to the ceiling. "Boss, I kinda hate to ask this, but… the missing parts… they're not up there, are they?"

Keith looked up, shivering, then looked beneath the water again before surfacing and looking back to the ceiling. "Son of a… what the hell are they doing up there?"

"Nothin' good." Hunk had retreated from the water; he was looking at the coral. What was going on in here suddenly seemed clear… and kind of sadistic.

"Okay." No time to panic. No time to even worry without panicking. "I'll stay here in the water. You climb up there and toss me what I need."

"Um." Hunk gave the coral a skeptical look. It wasn't exactly delicate, but it didn't look all that sturdy either; if it couldn't hold his weight they'd be in even more trouble. Not to mention that put the boss swimming around in freezing water, which seemed like the more dangerous part by far. "Maybe I should—"

"—Move, Garrett, unless you want a watery grave."

Okay then! "I'm movin', I'm movin'! But if this stuff breaks, I warned you." He started clambering up the coral. The lower handholds were slick with water, but as he got higher that lessened. Small favors. But as he reached the top he realized a minor issue with this plan; there were handholds all along the ceiling, but nowhere to actually stand. "Okay, boss… whatcha need? Please tell me it's close to me."

Keith plunged his head into the water again, stirring up some silt that briefly blocked out the puzzle. Shit, it clouds up easily. Then he winced at his own thoughts. Dammit, McClain is rubbing off on me. He took stock of the puzzle as the silt settled, then surfaced. "Okay… first, I think that one three pieces over from where your left hand is, the next one, and the one two above that."

That wasn't so bad, at least. Hunk slung his own pack on one of the handholds, took a deep breath, and started to carefully make his way to the pieces the boss had asked for. It was like crossing some kind of weird coral monkey bars… and he'd always hated monkey bars.

The pieces were easy enough to detach, coming free with a slight twist. They felt a bit like vulcanized rubber, which seemed very unlikely. No time to worry about material composition. He looked down… and immediately regretted it. "Oh hell." The piece dropped from his hand as he grabbed for the nearest handhold in a panic that had little to do with trying to carry his weight. "Should not have looked down!"

The piece splashed into the water, and Keith retrieved it as quickly as he could, slipping on the wet rock below and wincing. "I need the others!"

Hunk was now pointedly staring up, trying to pretend he wasn't twenty feet in the air on the monkey bars from hell. It's just water down there anyway, nothing to panic about. Nothing to panic about. He nearly fumbled the next piece, but managed to retrieve the two. "Whenever you're ready, boss," he called down without looking.

"Go ahead and drop it."

"Bombs away!"

This time Keith was in position to catch the pieces; the water was nearly up to his neck when he knelt. The water was clouded up again, he could feel the sand around his fingers, and waited a few moments before ducking his head under and setting the pieces into place. They clicked in easily.

"Okay," he called out as he surfaced again. He had to stand now. Was the water rising faster? He directed Hunk to a few more pieces, receiving them without incident, but it was getting harder and harder to dive down and fit them in through the clouded water.

No, no thinking like that. They just had to keep going.

Hunk's arms were starting to ache as he continued retrieving pieces. This was more hardcore than any Alliance conditioning test had ever dreamed of being. To make matters worse, the pieces he had to pull down kept getting further apart…

"The one at the other end, the solid blue one."

Oh, great. "Workin' on it."

"Take your time." Hopefully not too much of it, but there was no point pressuring him, either. Keith dove to put in the other pieces he was holding, fighting through the cloudy water that was getting worse and worse. And it was so damn cold. It was slowing him down, making it more difficult to get the pieces into place.

With a sigh of relief Hunk reached the blue piece and tossed it down without incident. As Keith called the next few, he even relaxed a little. But as he reached the last piece in the new batch, his arm twisted awkwardly.

Bad. Bad bad bad. "Look out below!" he bellowed as he tore the piece free, tumbling into the icy water.

Keith had been trying to fit one of the pieces in, and hadn't heard Hunk's yell at all. They were nearly finished, and they couldn't get out of here fast enough; his hands were so numb they ached. Right as the new piece snapped in he felt the water shift violently. What…? A wave of sand and dirt washed over him and the puzzle, blotting everything out. He struggled to the surface, coughing and choking with silt stinging his eyes.

Now he could hear Hunk yelling from what seemed like much too close. "Dude! Cold, cold, cold, brr, cold!"

"You alright?" He couldn't actually see yet.

"No."

"What happened?"

Hunk had scrambled back up onto the coral, shivering and soaked. Numb hands and wet clothes weren't going to make this any easier. But he thought better of complaining any more about it—the boss had it worse. And it wasn't like they had a choice in the matter. "Uh, nothin' happened. Totes cool up here. What's next?"

"Hold on. I have to let the water clear enough that I can see it." Keith was treading water and fighting exhaustion, though his sight was at least returning to him as he blinked the silt away. He saw the piece Hunk had retrieved floating next to him and took it, then dove back under the surface.

It seemed like he was down there forever.

"Dude, get back up here," Hunk whispered to the water. He started climbing back up, trying to focus on the coral and not on Keith under the icy water. His wet hands were making it incredibly slippery, and he lost his grip a few times; he also managed to knock his pack into the water, which he was certain he'd regret later. "Come on…"

Keith's head burst out of the water. "I need… that one…" he gasped through chattering teeth. "In the middle… last piece."

"On it!" Hunk swung back along the coral carefully, gripping each handhold with both hands. Last piece. They could do this. Last piece. His arms might fall off once they had it. Last piece. He reached it and braced himself, twisting it and letting it fall, then returning to clinging to the handhold with all his might.

He wasn't stable at all. But he couldn't fall, it would mess the water up again… he watched Keith dive after the piece, and held his breath. Come on, boss…

The last piece had fallen just through Keith's frozen hands. At least following it was easy, his clothes were like icy weights dragging him down. He could just barely see it glinting through the sand, and shoved it into the puzzle with all his fading strength. It didn't want to go. Almost there… go in, dammit! There must be sand blocking the mechanism. He blindly waved his hand in the slot, lungs burning. Come on, clear up…

A sharp snap rewarded his efforts. He had a split second to register the puzzle was glowing faintly through the silt, but there was no time to stay and watch. He had to get back to the surface. He wasn't sure he was going to make it.

He wasn't going to make it…

Clinging to the coral, Hunk heard a distant thump. Then a rush of water, almost like a drain. Before he could even consciously register the water level lowering, his grip gave out, and for the second time he splashed down hard into the icy water.

Scrambling to the surface, he saw a mess of dark hair rise up next to him. "Oh, hell." The boss was floating limply, eyes closed. Hunk grabbed him and kept his head above the water—not much else he could do as the room drained—and made an attempt to check for a pulse, but his numb fingers couldn't feel enough to find one. "Dude, you'd better not need CPR," he muttered. "Doc'll really hate me if I break your ribs."

It only took half a minute or so for Keith to come to, coughing and sputtering as he felt the air flowing back into his lungs. He was shivering uncontrollably, and only vaguely aware of someone else, almost as cold as he was, holding him up. Holy…

"Yo! Welcome back, boss!"

Everything rushed back in an instant, and he groaned. "D-d-did…" He paused, trying to get his chattering teeth under control. Biting his tongue off wouldn't help anything. "Did… it… work?"

"Uh… the water's goin' down, anyway." Hunk could feel his muscles seizing up the longer they stayed in the water, and wondered how the hell the boss had managed as long as he had. "Not sure about the door? Be able to check in another minute or so."

"G… good." Keith curled up as best he could, though trying to preserve body heat in these circumstances was pretty well futile.

Finally, the landing by the door drained. Hunk dragged the boss with him and crawled onto solid ground, shivering himself. "Dude…"

Keith groaned, staring blankly at the ceiling. There were still plenty of pieces up there. It would have been so easy to get distracted, confused, lost in the cold. "Worst… m-mission… ev-ver…"

"Ain't wrong," Hunk agreed, crawling to the door and pushing on it as hard as he could. To his surprise, it swung open without any incident at all. He tossed Keith's soaked pack through then turned back to the boss himself, who was crawling after him.

"…Splo… sives…?"

Not even Hunk had been in any shape to think about bombs right now. He looked back out at the water, where his own pack was sitting serenely a couple of feet from the landing. "Uh, they're hangin' out in the pool. I'll get 'em when I can feel my feet again."

"Hope d-door don't… shut," Keith managed to force out in response. Even his brain felt frozen. What he was absolutely certain of was that he wanted to get the hell out of this room, away from the arctic water, and never look back again.

Suddenly, a pair of infantry boots appeared in the doorway. He didn't have the energy to look up and see who it was, but that was okay; the owner of the boots promptly identified himself.

"And what the fuck happened to you two?!"

"N… nice t-to see you t-too, Doc…"

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Well that had escalated quickly.

Lance hadn't even had time to take in Sven and Flynn's conditions when the next door swung open, and he followed Jace over to investigate. "Are you two wet?" he asked blankly.

"Bone dry, bro." Hunk crawled over the threshold and shook his hair out wildly, sending water flying everywhere.

Snickering, he glanced over at Flynn, who was also biting back laughter. Then he blinked. "You look singed?"

The engineer glowered. "Only a little."

"Trade you being poisoned."

"You got what?"

Lance held up his bandaged arm. "Fucking poisonous vines."

As they spoke, Keith half crawled, half rolled through the door. He dragged himself into sitting up against the wall next to a shaky Sven, who was standing there eyeing Lance and Flynn and keeping his opinions to himself. He'd much rather be poisoned than electrocuted again. Jace looked around the room and gave an exasperated sigh, then started unpacking his kit… again.

"J-just… don't g-go in there… ice water…"

Flynn glanced at his scorched jacket and the burns he knew well were beneath it. "Ice water sounds wonderful—"

"—don't you fucking dare, you do not put ice water on burns!—"

"—I know that!" He scowled at Jace, who threw a cooling pack at him. All he'd said was it sounded wonderful. The cooling pack seemed just as wonderful, at least; he shrugged out of his jacket and pressed the pack to the worst of the burns, gritting his teeth against the chill.

Hunk was taking in everyone else's conditions, and shook his head. "This stuff looks like so much more fun when Indy's the one doin' it."

"No shit," Lance agreed. "Never looking at that movie the same… Viking?" Sven had just given a particularly noticeable twitch. "You good?"

The navigator slid down the wall and sat, steadying a little. "Better," he said quietly.

Jace had damn near emptied his kit onto the floor. He'd snapped open every cooling pack he had; he delivered two to Sven and another to Flynn as he waited for the warming blankets to charge. He had a lot of opinions on the sorry state of everyone here… but medic time was now, swearing time was later. He delivered one of the blankets to Hunk, who cuddled with it gratefully, then moved on to the boss.

Keith had closed his eyes, and was right on the verge of sleep. He was exhausted, relieved, and—he startled as a blanket was draped over his shoulders, warmth beginning to pulse into his muscles immediately. "Thanks… d-doc."

"Welcome." Sleepy and possibly disoriented, that was worrying. "You hurt anywhere or just cold?"

"J-just… fucking… c-cold… and sleepy."

Lance's eyes widened. "Boss, did you just say—"

"—Watch your language!" Sven snapped, not even caring that it was his commander. He was annoyed at everything right now. Annoyed that he couldn't stop the shakes, annoyed that he hurt all over, annoyed that people were being loud, and pretty much annoyed that Sorthal even existed.

"Well fuck me, he's got brain damage," Lance declared, ignoring Sven. "Jace, check his head."

"Yeah, no kidding." Jace grabbed a light and shone it into Keith's eyes, watching the pupils contract—first from the light, then from the death glare.

"S-stop… that… shit…"

"Are you trying to convince me you don't have brain damage? Because that's not how you do it."

Keith fell silent and just kept glaring, or tried to. He was shivering too much to really maintain a glare. Though he did manage to shoot a brief one at Flynn, who was snickering. All of that irritation evaporated when Jace wrapped another, larger warming blanket around him; his whole body still ached from cold, and the new pulses of heat were like heaven.

"No headache? You're sure?"

"Y… yes. I'm s-sure. Wasn't out… very long."

"Couldn't have been more than a minute," Hunk agreed as Jace shot him a sharp look.

"…Okay. You're not showing any signs of a head injury, but I'm going to be keeping an eye on you." He moved on to the others; Flynn and Sven's burns were nasty-looking but not too deep, Hunk seemed a lot less hypothermic than Keith, and Lance, well, he was acutely acquainted with Lance's problems.

"You seem pretty intact, Doc," Hunk observed. "Can you grab my bombs?" The medic gave him a disbelieving look, but nodded and went back through the door to the water room.

"Yeah," Lance snorted as he left, "the forest of doom liked his ass. Go figure."

"Forests of doom are known to have strange taste."

"Very strange."

"The strangest."

"Oh, fuck you. All of you." Jace glowered around the room as he returned and dumped the bag next to Hunk, then dropped to the floor; his legs and shoulders were aching a bit from having to haul Lance through the forest of doom in question. Seeing the water room only intensified his annoyance at, well, everything. "What the fuck is with this place?"

"Language!"

"Viking, if the boss can say fuck, so can I."

"Like him not saying it has ever stopped you before," Flynn muttered, drawing a grin from Lance. Jace opted not to fire back at that. As things settled down and the adrenaline faded, an exhausted silence fell over the team.

Briefly.

They were starting to look around where they'd actually ended up. It was… a room. Just a room. An empty gray chamber with five doors in one wall—the ones leading to the murder gauntlets—and one larger one opposite them. There was light coming from above, though no light bulbs or windows were visible. This place remained weird.

"Oh hey, look," Hunk muttered under his breath. "Another door."

"I think we're in a fucking video game," Lance grumbled, drawing an irritated sigh from Sven. "And if the fucking Galra find this place I hope the plants eat them, and those other rooms drown and zap them."

"Seems likely," Flynn murmured. "I wonder what the other two symbols were."

Hunk shot him a look of disbelief, and he wasn't the only one. "I don't."

"I'm with the big guy, rather not know." Looking around the empty room of weirdness—everything in here was weird—Lance finally settled his gaze on the exit. "So, I guess we open the door?"

"I'm not opening any more doors," Sven said quickly.

"Not looking forward to it, Viking." If there had been any other way to go from here than opening another weird door, Lance would happily have taken it. Options seemed in short supply, that was all. "Jace, you do it, you're not wounded."

That earned him a disapproving look from the medic that, in comparison to his usual disapproving looks, seemed somehow unusually businesslike. "I'm not opening anything yet. You people need rest."

Nobody seemed all that inclined to argue with him, mostly because nobody really wanted to open the door. Hunk was the only one who offered even a mild contradiction, and he was just thinking out loud. "Gotta be somethin' cool back there, right? After all we just went through?"

"Maybe it's a note that says 'ha ha, suckers'." Scowl. "Wouldn't put it past this place. Now rest."

"We'll rest… on the ship." Keith came to his decision and stood carefully, still wrapped up in the blankets. Even his thoughts still felt a bit numb from the cold, but his strength was returning enough to move, at least. Staying here in the middle of nowhere wasn't going to help anything. "We need to finish and get out of here." Before Jace could stop him, he stepped up to the door and gave it a halfhearted push.

The door slid open, and a blinding mix of light and brilliant color forced them all to step back a moment.

"Holy fuck."

"Definitely somethin' cool."

"Faex."

"Wow…"

Lance blinked back afterimages as they stepped into the next room, his eyes slowly adjusting. His brain was not adjusting. "I need a word weirder than weird." A round of nods answered him as the team fanned out. It was all that really fit…

The room was a single immense pentagon, but it was anything but unified. Each wall was a different color of glossy enamel; the wall at their backs was black, with red, blue, yellow, and green on the others. The floor was tiled in the same colors, splitting the room into five colored wedges that all converged at a curious shrine in the center: a pillar holding five roughly foot-high statuettes, some sort of large cats carved from gemstones in the corresponding colors. The backs of the five cats formed a makeshift stand, bearing a brilliant clear crystal the size of a basketball that shimmered with millions of rainbows from within.

Each wedge had certain common features—low benches, what may have been altars, murals of great cats engraved into the walls. But beyond that they were strikingly different, and it made the room nearly overwhelming.

"Split up," Keith ordered finally. "Document everything."

Hunk took the yellow section, immediately noting that the floor was textured like sand. The others hadn't been like that. There were piles of gemstones in varying shades of brown and gold stacked around, but also chunks of what seemed like ordinary stone—heck, someone had dragged a three foot boulder in here. There were glyphs chiseled into the boulder, probably writing. It took some coaxing to get his allegedly waterproof datapad started up, but he managed to get some pictures. The rocks and gems he left alone. Plundering the place that way just didn't seem right, somehow.

Sven was immediately drawn to the blue section of the room. The floor was smooth, made up of different shades of blue all swirling together in some sort of whirlpool pattern. He made sure to take a picture of it before forcing himself to look away from the floor and up to the wall. The wall itself was plain, but the two waist high pearl colored pillars that were up against it were beautiful. Each had a dark blue bowl on top of it. Both bowls had an odd tentacled creature etched onto them. Sven walked up to them and looked into one of the bowls. There was a ringed water stain wrapped around the inside of the bowl, like there had been stagnant water in there for awhile. Taking a few steps back he made sure to get pictures of everything.

Jace stepped into the green section almost despite himself; its most distinctive feature was more damn vines. But these weren't covered in thorns, and definitely weren't alive. Rather they were woven of smooth fiber, decorated with flowers carved from something that felt like wax. There were real flowers, too, long dead but still recognizable, planted in several vases that looked like swirls of glass. He thought of the wind from the murder garden as he ran a finger along one, and tried his hardest not to wonder.

Lance found himself standing on smooth red rock. He walked forward, hand going against the matching wall. It was cold and he felt a wave of disappointment, the memory of the red metal had been playing in his mind. Shaking his head, he pulled out his camera. Black vases were on a shelf, with what looked some sort of lizard carved onto them, and inside it looked to be ash. Once again he found the word weird repeating in his mind.

Keith stood in front of the small altar by the black wall. He stared at the delicate little pieces of glass there. Fulgurite, if he remembered correctly. He picked up a very intricate piece, studying it, then sighed and set it back down. Whatever this was, it meant something, but his brain was still numb from his time in the water. He managed to dig out a datapad and snapped some pictures before dropping it back into the pack he’d gotten it from.

Flynn had gone straight to the crystal in the center, and not just because it was the obvious focal point. Something about the crystal's structure, the way it seemed to have infinite facets and tiny silver flecks within it, was tugging insistently at his memory. It meant something more than the obvious, he was certain.

"What do you make of it?" Keith asked quietly, walking up to him.

"I've seen something like this before. Give me a minute…" His second closed his eyes.

"Photographic memory?"

"No, just too bright in here to think." Nearly as soon as he said it his eyes flashed open. "…It's data storage. Crystal matrix formats are native to this sector."

Data storage? Keith looked back at the crystal. "That's… a lot of storage."

"That's an assload of storage," Lance agreed, walking over from the red section.

The others were converging too, and Hunk chuckled slightly. "Kinda puts weird metal scraps into perspective, yeah?" In truth he was talking about more than just the crystal… though it definitely applied to the crystal.

"If it's data at least that's, you know, something… concrete, maybe?" Lance circled around the crystal, frowning. "Instead of weird whatever."

Keith blinked, trying to follow the logic, and didn't think it was only his exhaustion preventing it. "But what if what's on it is just… weirder?"

"Who leaves a few exabytes of normal data sitting around in a temple full of deathtraps?" Flynn pointed out, drawing a few snickers. "Of course it's going to be weirder."

"Probably is." Lance shrugged. "But if it's what they want we should have it."

That, at least, was absolutely true. Keith studied the crystal warily. "Is it safe to just… pull it and go?"

"Has anything in here been safe yet?" Jace retorted. "I'll get it, I'm the only one here who's healthy enough to haul the bags, anyway."

Sven stayed quiet, though he really didn't think this was a good idea. He remembered all too well what had come of Flynn just taking the key back in the lightning room. Clearly Flynn remembered too, because he looked around with concern. "Should we maybe know where the exit is first? Just in case."

"Yeah, I uh, agree with that."

"Don't make sense, pit boss. This place ain't about sense."

"Let's do that."

Keith closed his eyes and nodded, quietly irked with himself. He should have thought of that. They really needed to get out of here; he wanted his full mental function back, and it felt like that was going to take his bed and about fifty blankets. He watched the others scatter, searching. "Anyone see anything?" he asked as they started trailing back.

Their expressions made the answer pretty clear. "No, nothing."

Wonderful. "Well, we've got Garrett's explosives. We can always just… make a hole."

"Uh, about that…" The big man grimaced. "They're wet. They ain't waterproof." Even better, and he didn't even have the decency to be done delivering bad news. "I uh, kinda hate to say this… and I dunno about the rest of you… but our door didn't open up until we figured out the puzzle."

"A puzzle?"

"Oh, you guys had a puzzle. Lucky you."

"We didn't have a puzzle. More like a… I don't know. There was lightning. It was painful."

"Ours was under the freezing water. And the pieces were on the ceiling." That shut them up. Keith eyed Hunk doubtfully. "So what, maybe a door will just magically open up if we take it?"

"Yeah, because weird just works with you like that."

"That's not actually the craziest thing that's happened today."

"Weird-ass temple…" Jace shook his head and looked at the boss. "Okay, if you tell me to grab this thing I'll grab it. And then I guess we'll fucking wing it."

What else could they do? "Take it. And everyone keep your eyes open."

"Going on the record," Lance muttered, "this is a bad idea. The only fucking idea, but a bad idea."

"We have a lot of bad ideas," Hunk commented lightly.

"Point."

Sven made a face. "We are an Explorer Team…"

"…and isn't that what Explorer Teams are for?" Keith finished.

Jace snorted. "Isn't that the truth." He stepped up and took the crystal, holding his breath despite himself. It was much heavier than he'd expected even a basketball-sized chunk of stone to be; he damn near dropped it. As he fumbled to recover he fully expected something horrible to happen, but for a very long second there was only silence.

The cat statues hummed softly. As if relieved to no longer be carrying the crystal, they straightened, a series of sharp clicks emanating from beneath them. A roar that sounded vaguely like a lion filled the room.

Dust started raining down. The roar was continuing—no, it was a new sound echoing over them now. It didn't sound like an animal at all anymore.

"Fuck."

The ceiling was lowering.

"Didn't we just watch a movie about this?" Flynn muttered under his breath, and despite it all Lance grinned.

"Hell yeah we did."

Sven glanced over at them. Somehow he was pretty sure was missing a reference here, but… "Any ideas on how we make it stop?"

For a moment they all just looked desperately around the room, then Keith caught sight of something new. "Hey, where did those little alcoves come from?" New indentations had opened up on each point of the room, revealing what looked like small shrines. Or had they always been there? He wasn't sure how much to trust his mind right now.

Flynn's eyes narrowed. "They must have opened up after…" He trailed off, looking at the cat statues, then back at the alcoves.

Lance followed his gaze. "What are you thinking?"

It was Hunk who managed to put it into action first. "These clicked," he said quietly, reaching for the golden cat. He twisted the statuette slightly, and with a soft pop it came free of the pedestal.

The others stared at him, wide-eyed, then all sprang into action at once. Lance reached for the red one, pulling it out just as easily. Keith reached for whichever was closest, ending up with the black one. Sven removed the blue one; the green one seemed to stick slightly as Flynn twisted it, but another tug and he was able to pull it free.

"Okay. Fan out." Keith took a deep breath, adrenaline surging again. "Figure out which spot these go in, because you know it can't be simple."

"Course not."

"Yes sir."

Each of them ran for the wall of their statuette's color. Hunk and Flynn exchanged glances and both ran for the corner between green and yellow; surely one of theirs would have to fit.

Keith reached the green corner of the black wall, but before even attempting to place his statuette on the shrine something caught his eye. "Holy shit…" He didn't need rest or warmth to identify the sigil carved into the shrine. This symbol. It was the same one he'd had to assemble in the water hell room. Only there it had been… "Holgersson! You have the blue one, right?"

"Yes sir! Why?"

Between the red and blue walls, Lance was having a similar experience. The tree-arrow rune was carved into the shrine. No, that was the garden of murder. Something prickled down the back of his neck and he turned, staring at the wall across from him.

Green.

"…Opposite walls!" he yelled, turning to the corner across from the red.

"McClain is right! Move, people!"

Sven had made it to the shrine between yellow and blue; the jagged rune that had preceded the lightning room was there. Flynn and Hunk had just finished figuring out that neither of their cats fit on the shrine they were at, despite what seemed logical. It clicked for all three at once. "Of course…"

The ceiling was more than halfway down as they all sprinted across the room. Hunk was already having to duck as he ran. Lance could still feel vestiges of the poison, he was stumbling, but managed to keep his footing until he half fell against the red shrine and slid the red cat in.

A soft growl sounded from the shrine. Around the room, a series of similar growls echoed as the others slammed their cats into place. With another distant rumble, the ceiling stopped moving.

Silence fell.

Definitely better than ceilings falling.

"Uh… we alive?" Lance was breathing harshly, his head throbbing. Maybe it was more than just vestiges of the poison still bothering him.

"Dude…"

"It looks like a good sign?"

"Porra." Jace leaned back against the empty crystal pedestal, looking around. Hunk was leaning over his shrine, since he didn't have much choice. Flynn had his head tilted back, and was staring at the ceiling less than an inch from his face with a mildly disconcerted expression. Sven was also ducking a bit at his shrine, though he didn't have any real need to be; Keith and Lance were both slumped over theirs, looking pained.

"Fuck me… I said I wanted to be Han Solo when I grew up, not Indiana Jones."

"You liked the trash compactor."

"Harrison Ford is Harrison Ford, bro."

Lance eyed Hunk and managed a grin. "That is a good fucking point."

"What the hell are you people talking about?" Jace demanded, though he didn't expect or really actually want an answer. Sven looked over at him and shrugged.

"Gonna need another movie night," Hunk muttered.

"And beer."

"Let's prioritize the beer." As Flynn spoke, the ceiling started rising back up, except for a central disc that descended around the crystal pedestal. It had a complicated series of chains that seemed to be guiding it down.

The team exchanged curious looks. "A fucking ancient elevator?"

"Well, an exit is an exit, right?"

"Totally."

They crowded onto the platform, and a sorry lot they still were. Lance swayed a bit and nearly fell off until Flynn reached out to steady him, earning a grateful smile. Keith and Sven had subconsciously ended up standing very close to each other, as if hoping their heat might equalize. Jace, true to what he'd said earlier, was loaded down with every bag they'd brought… still better than having to carry Lance, though. Hunk was still shivering, but it was left to him to find the operating mechanism, a switch set into the pedestal.

"Goin' up!"

With a screeching lurch that didn't exactly inspire confidence, the elevator carried them into another small, empty room… and a door slid open, revealing the overgrown complex and the covered Firecrown in the distance.

It seemed like all of them breathed a sigh of relief at once.

"Home sweet home…"

"Thank god."

Slowly, somewhat painfully, they all trooped back to the ship. Maybe calling it home was a bit of an exaggeration; they still had a long trip back to Earth ahead of them. But their mission—ill-defined, unpredictable, and straight up insane as it was—was accomplished.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"Where is she?!"

It had taken the royal seamstress nearly a month, but the dress was finally complete. A true masterwork, befitting the debut of a proper princess: flowing layers of blue and violet silk, intricate patterns woven in golden thread, feathery winglike armlets just below the bare sleeves that represented a woman ready for courting. A long train of shimmering golden gauze had a similar wing pattern, ethereal and angelic. It was, the seamstress said, one of the finest pieces she'd ever produced.

And it was sitting idle on the dress form, because the person meant to be trying it on was nowhere to be found.

"Well?" Nanny marched down the line of castle staff—three housemaids, two footmen, and a chef's apprentice who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time—and glowered. "I said where is she?!"

Mendar shrugged helplessly, speaking for the whole assemblage. They'd checked everywhere in the castle a pseudo-princess might be expected to be found, and a few others besides. "Nowhere we've been able to find her, Lady Hys."

"Well then why are you here?" She picked up the nearest convenient implement, in this case a feather duster, and swatted him with it. "Go and do your duty!"

Immediately they scattered. Most of them were, in fact, going to do their duty… though the chef's apprentice decided to risk her actual duty, sneaking back into the kitchen as soon as she was out of range. It was the apprentice that Allura noted as she was passing by the kitchen, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. She knew the look of someone dodging an angry Nanny.

It didn't take long to find her. "Nanny, what's going on?" As soon as the question left her lips, she caught sight of what the governess was glaring at, and could guess. "Is that Larmina's dress? It's gorgeous."

"Ach, Princess!" Nanny jumped like a startled roli and darted in front of the dress form. "Yes it is, and you shouldn't be seeing it until her debut, you know that! Bad luck! Of course everything with that hellion is bad luck! She ought to have been here an hour ago, and…"

Though she didn't outwardly show it, Allura tuned the rant out. Nanny would be mortified when she wound down and remembered who she was speaking to. Besides, she had a sneaking suspicion this was a problem she could solve…

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Earlier that morning, Larmina had received a 'care package' from the Seven Isles. It wasn't the first one she'd gotten—her mother had been sending her small packages weekly. Usually they contained a letter, some of her favorite cinnamon pretzel knots, and a fresh fairy lily from the manor gardens. It had taken a few letters worth of negotiating, but this package had included something new. A bottle of Syrah Kepacha, one of the Seven Isles' finest red wines.

Danor had been delighted.

Now she was sitting on an old rusty crate, eagerly clinging to the royal mechanic's every word as he walked her through the maintenance of a portable comm array. It was way more interesting than ballroom dancing or protocol lessons.

"Most important thing is to make sure the resonance filter is sealed properly. If even a little dust gets in, the audio quality starts to drop." He shook his head. "Don't sound like much, but one garbled syllable can be the difference between a shipment of bananas and a shipment of bandanas, and then where's your fruit salad at?"

Larmina giggled; she wondered if that example came from personal experience. "Triple check the filter seal, got it."

"Why don't you try this one?" He handed her another of the comm arrays with an encouraging grin. "See how well you've got it."

Oh. She hesitated a moment before taking the device, her eyes flickering up to Danor. Finishing school had taught her to be wary of being singled out, but this was different, wasn't it? There was no class of boring noblebrats waiting to see her used as a bad example. Just a wholly sincere royal mechanic grinning as she accepted the array.

Okay, so… she picked up a screwdriver and carefully opened up the main compartment, tightening a few bolts and replacing a couple of worn wires. It was tricky work—her fingers slipped several times—and once the sharp end of a wire pierced her thumb like a needle.

"Ow!"

"All right there?" Danor had her hand before she could protest that of course she was fine, looking over the wound and the small droplet of blood bubbling from it. "Ah, there's your first workshop badge of honor!" Again without giving her a chance to argue, he dabbed the blood off and applied some wound sealant. "Good as new!"

For a moment Larmina was starkly aware that the only person who'd ever tended her wounds before was her mother. The Castle of Lions seemed so cold and harsh. The workshop was… warm… the thoughts weren't helpful and she shook them aside. "Thanks," she whispered, returning her attention to the work.

It took a few minutes, and the vacuum sealer was hard to handle, but finally she thought she had it. The resonance chamber snapped shut, sealing itself, and she carefully screwed the access panel back into place on top of it.

Was that it? She thought that was it. "How's this?"

Grin. "How is it? Give it a test."

Biting her lip nervously, Larmina flipped the test switch. A clear note rang out from the speaker. She held her breath, waiting for it to waver or crackle, but it remained strong and steady until it faded gently away.

Danor clapped. "Very nice! You may just be a natural."

Really? Am I?

It felt good… not just getting the lesson right, though that was also a nice change of pace. But the task itself was satisfying. It was careful and precise, but it was productive. It wasn't just jumping through hoops to avoid offending some stuffy old noble. She'd taken something, something useful, and actually made it better.

The warmth and excitement of success lasted about until she looked up, and caught a flash of golden hair and blue chiffon at the end of the aisleway.

…Dovayat.

Danor followed her gaze and quickly stood, tipping his cap in greeting. "Princess Allura, what brings you here today?"

"Just looking for someone who's an hour late for a dress fitting," she answered with a knowing smile.

Dress fitting?

Dovayat pol.

She had forgotten about it completely, and for once not even intentionally. "I, um, I lost track of time!" She vaulted off the crate, stumbled, and barely caught herself before going down in a heap on the floor.

Auntie actually giggled. "It's alright, Larmina. Just come along without bruising yourself too badly, please? Nanny is so flustered she acted improperly in front of me, if we catch her before she recovers she ought to go easy on you."

Now that sounded fantastic. Larmina jumped up, started to follow, then paused and turned back to Danor. "Thank you for the lesson, sir." She gave a perfect curtsy and a genuine smile without even thinking about it. "Hopefully I'll be back sometime soon."

He chuckled, tipping his cap to her as well. "I'll look forward to it, m'lady."

Allura arched an eyebrow, then spun towards the door before Larmina could notice the even more knowing smile crossing her lips. It would probably obligate her to be insulted, and there was no need for that.

Don't point out that she's learning. Just let her find her way.

There was still time…