Pride:
On the Hunt
Chapter
11
Threads
Daniel
had the last shift before they hit the atmosphere of Alcieux. It was
going poorly… well, the flying
was
fine.
He
shifted uneasily in the less-than-comfortable pilot's seat. He was
trying
to
focus on the monitors in front of him, he really was. Which was rare,
because bridge duty? Boring,
especially when you were by yourself. Usually he at least had Sven to
pester for entertainment.
You’d
think an Explorer Team would get more action.
A little adventure, maybe a dash of excitement here or there, it
would certainly make the time go by faster.
Maybe
then my brain would shut up.
He
kept replaying his half of the screaming match he’d gotten into
with Cam, and he cringed in embarrassment each time his words played
across his mind. Can’t
believe I said that.
It
wasn’t that he didn’t mean everything he said, it was that he had
said it out
loud.
Well
authority doesn't screw you over every chance they get, do they? Oh
god. He’d never actually said that before; he’d thought it
plenty, but those thoughts had never made it out into the real world.
At least not like that. Daniel winced once again, a dark blush
gracing his face as his earlier words replayed in his head once more.
What
a pansy. You sounded like a giant crybaby.
A
small growl made its way from his throat. He wouldn’t have had to
say all that if Cam hadn't been such a dick. Relentlessly. Daniel
knew he was a pain in the ass, but enough was enough; a person could
only tolerate so much before they snapped.
Cam's
half of the conversation began to replay itself in his head, and he
reveled in the anger it sparked. What had he called him? Oh
yeah, that's right.
"Spoiled,
entitled brat." He
wrapped his hands around the yoke in front of him, his half-assed
attempt to stop the anger induced rattle in his hands. He knew he
should stop. He shouldn't be making himself angry all over again, it
wasn't healthy, but he liked
the
hostility racing through him. It put his nerves on edge, which felt
so good. Animosity had a way of covering all of his problems, small
or big. Logically he knew it was like putting a bandaid on a gunshot
wound, but it felt like lotion on a burn. And for however long he
could make the temper last, he'd be in a state of bliss.
It
wasn’t as exhilarating as flying, but not much was. Not running
from the cops after tagging a building, not even canyon jumping
brought the same sort of euphoria flying did. Street racing was
close, but anger was closer.
"The
Commander hoped if I set an example for you, you might straighten
out." Daniel’s
teeth clenched. And
he says I’m arrogant?
Who
did he think he was? Speaking of which, who did Keith think he
was?
Daniel tightened his grip on the yoke to near painful and smirked
bitterly, the resentment burning. He didn’t need anyone to set an
example for him, he’d done just fine without one. Maybe he should
show their dear commander what a great example his precious
self-righteous dumbass was being… no, wouldn't be much point in
that. The commander didn't seem like the type to put it together if
he started lashing out. But still, Cam, a role model! It was a
disgusting thought really, dude only knew how to be a dick.
That’s
not completely true.
…Oh
no, not you.
Daniel
felt himself twitch as his own conscience started to fight back
against his barricade of bitterness. It was always doing that. He
might not have understood—because he’s a dumbass—but he at
least listened to what you had to say. Squeezing
his eyes shut and shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he tried to
cling to the ebbing anger. It wasn't working as well as he'd have
hoped. His conscience, as annoying as it was, was right. Cam had
listened
to him, which was something nobody else really did. He guessed that
counted for something, at least.
But
that’s not entirely true either, is it?
Gripping
the yoke harder, he started wondering if he could bash his head
against the console enough times to get his brain to stop with the
logic shit. Lance
listens to you. Teaches you cool stuff, too. Daniel
had learned more aboard the Bolt
than
he had the past two years at the Academy… okay maybe that wasn’t
quite true, but he'd definitely been way happier about it. Learning
from Lance was interesting and cool, not like some boring lecture.
That
thought made him smile, but it only lasted for a second before
insecurity twisted its way into his thoughts. How long before Lance
started thinking he wasn’t worth the trouble? It always happened.
For some it was right away, like his Academy instructors. For others
like Commodore Rankin it took a little longer. But they all
eventually stop giving a damn… the thought of Lance giving up on
him too sent a pang through him. So far the pilot had gone out of his
way to look out for him. It was nice, and Daniel had been lapping up
the attention like a dehydrated puppy, but how long until it stopped?
Don't
let it happen. Cut this off on your own terms, for once.
He
closed his eyes for a moment. The thought of Lance giving up already
hurt, and this arrangement was relatively new. How much worse would
it feel when he finally decided to pull the plug, however long from
now? It was only a matter of time.
No.
No fucking way was Daniel going to put himself through that. Not
again. He was going to end it now. Better to stop the attachment
before he became too dependent, to not get used to counting on
something that couldn't be counted on…
Once
more he reached out and grabbed the yoke. It brought him a small bit
of comfort as his stomach twisted with insecurity. This was going to
suck, but… it would be for the best.
*****
It
was winter in Alcieux's southern hemisphere, and the spaceport
nearest the Great Library of the Ages was engulfed in near-blizzard
conditions. Landing had been exciting.
Naturally, the blizzard had tapered off almost the moment the Bolt
had
taxied into its berth, leaving the ship sitting amidst drifts of
nearly two feet of snow. Flynn had flatly refused to leave the ship
in such conditions, but Vince and Pidge had both volunteered in his
place. Vince liked libraries; Pidge liked being useful. …And snow.
The
library didn't look too impressive, at least from the street; most of
the complex was underground. Sven had been telling them all about it
as they trekked through the snow. It was, at its core, a museum of
archaeology. The Alceites explored vast swaths of space—rumor said
they even had a presence beyond the Orion Spur—in search of
artifacts from long lost civilizations, cataloging and displaying
them to be studied and admired.
They
had very little interest in civilizations that weren't dead. This
would probably be hit or miss.
Keith
eyed Sven as they walked down the steps to the entrance. "No
wandering off without saying anything, Holgersson."
"I
didn't wander off," Sven protested with a sigh. "I was
researching." Researching without saying anything, sure, but…
Pidge
looked up. "I'll keep an eye on him, sir." He fell in a
little closer as he spoke.
Sven
eyed him with a bit of concern. He had
overheard
something about hey
ninjerk, make sure they don't forget the Viking this time
when
they'd left the ship, but he wouldn't have expected the ninja to take
it seriously. I
hope he knows Jace was joking…
"Good
idea," Keith agreed with a nod, completely ignoring his
navigator's discomfort. "Buddy system it is."
They
were nearing the bottom of the stairs. A set of double doors greeted
them, quite plain except for several stripes of multicolored enamel.
Pushing the door open rewarded them with a wave of warmth, and Vince
scurried in eagerly with the others—his teeth were chattering. Oh
good, it's warm
in
here.
He took a moment to just let the warmth wash over him, then looked
around… his eyes widened. "Wow…"
They
were standing in a huge, hexagonal room, with hallways spidering out
in every direction. Every wall was a bookshelf, and each shelf was
painted in the same sort of rainbow of enamels as the doors had been;
if there was a pattern to the colors he couldn't discern it. Not that
he was paying much attention to the colors. He'd never seen so many
books.
"It's
wonderful
in
here," Sven murmured with a smile.
Impressive
as the sight was, they had work to do. Looking around, Keith couldn't
find any English signage. There were signs, several of them, but they
all had those same rainbow lines and little else. A dazzling array of
colors covered the floor, as well—solid paths that led to the
various hallways. None of it made any sense to him.
The
Alceites themselves were humanoid, with skin in various shades of
rich brown and silver hair that most wore short and simple. In fact,
they were all but indistinguishable from humans… until one looked
carefully at their hands, each of which possessed an extra thumb.
Those in the foyer were making great use of those thumbs, arranging
and examining books with remarkable dexterity. Not a single one
seemed interested in the Earthlings who'd just walked into their
library—what few glances they attracted were cursory and quick.
"Anyone
see an information desk?" Keith asked softly.
"That
looks promising," Sven offered, pointing off to their right. A
large desk with a fairly bored-looking Alceite was tucked away in a
corner.
"It
is a person behind a desk." Vince shrugged. He was fighting the
urge to wander off himself; everything around them was so
fascinating,
but he didn't really want to pull a Sven.
Well,
he was certainly right that it was a person behind a desk. With a
slight shrug of his own their commander led them over, hoping this
wouldn't be an insult. "Excuse us, but… do you work here?"
The
Alceite looked up and blinked slowly, studying each of them in turn.
"Yes?" Her voice was low and calm. "I am Aja. What do
you require."
"Where
might we find information on a planet called Altea?"
Aja
blinked slowly again. "Spell that."
…Is
this a trick question?
The
Alceite was utterly inscrutable. "Which word?" he asked
hesitantly. "That? Or Altea?"
She
just stared at him. So did his teammates—except for Pidge, who
thought it was a perfectly reasonable question. Vince finally dared
to speak up. "I think she meant Altea, Commander." He
turned to her. This he could do, he'd been through a few spelling
bees in his life. "It's A-L-T-E-A."
"Yes,"
Sven muttered, raising an eyebrow at their commander and glancing
down at Pidge. "I'm going to have to start elbowing him too…"
The ninja didn't look at all impressed.
Neither
did Aja, who had turned to her monitor. Despite her lethargic
speaking demeanor, her movements were quick and efficient. After a
few moments the computer beeped. "There," she said,
pointing to one of the hallways, "red-orange ten to three parts.
If there is anything to be found, that will be the correct section.
You will find translator glasses for Common English at any of the
resource desks. They are labeled."
"Thank
you!" With a broad smile, Sven took off in the direction she'd
pointed, eager to get to the books. A slightly startled Pidge
followed right on his heels. Vince laughed, but didn't follow, noting
that Keith hadn't left yet; it was only polite to wait with him.
The
boss looked after Sven, shaking his head with a slight smile, then
turned back to Aja and withdrew the strip of cloth from Kaliega from
his pack. "Also, we were told to present this when we got here,
does it mean anything to you?"
Aja
looked at the glowing sigils on the cloth, and for a moment looked
slightly less bored. "Lygoth trace bioluminescence. An Observer
vouches for you." She took the cloth and nodded. "I will
see that this goes to where it belongs."
"Thank
you." Bowing his head slightly, Keith turned, heading for the…
red-orange ten to three parts?… section. The line on the floor
appeared to be dyed directly into the stone, rather than enameled
like on the doors and the shelves.
"Think
we'll find anything, Commander?" Vince asked as they headed down
the hallway.
"I
hope so." He shook his head. "It would be a horrible shame
if we don't."
That
language seemed a little strong, though it wasn't inaccurate. "Yeah,
I guess. It's quite a mystery, huh?"
"Yes,
it is. Just a wild goose chase…"
"Hopefully
with a nice goose at the end, sir."
What
they found first was Sven seated at a large table, with a stack of
books and what looked like a strangely prismatic magnifying glass.
And Pidge, who was standing maybe an inch behind his chair, watching
over his shoulder. Uh
oh.
"Pidge?"
Vince asked hesitantly. "Jace didn't mean you have to glue
yourself to him."
"Yes,
and really you don't have to watch me at all. He was joking."
Pidge
didn't move. "I don't think he was joking, sir."
Probably
really hadn't been, knowing Jace, but he probably hadn't been
shooting for this either. "Well, either way you don't have to
watch me this closely. I'm not moving."
Frown.
"Sir, I think you not moving is what he's worried about?"
Sighing,
Sven raised his head from the book he was studying. "Pidge, I
believe you are skilled enough to keep an eye on me while not
hovering over me. We're supposed to be researching, don't you want to
look through some books? They're fascinating."
With
a sigh of his own, the ninja stepped away and circled the table. He
took a book and one of the magnifying glass things, sat across from
Sven, and silently stared.
All
Keith could do was grin. "At least we know we won't be losing
you, Holgersson."
"Yes
sir." Truthfully he didn't mind the staring. He was just happy
to have his personal bubble back.
Shaking
his head, Vince retrieved one of the translator glasses and sat next
to Pidge—may as well keep working on getting used to him. He took
one of the books too, and opened it to find what he had,
subconsciously, maybe expected: rows upon rows of rainbow lines. The
Alceites used colors instead of symbols as their alphabet.
That already was fascinating, and it got even more so as he held the
glass over the page and watched the colors shift, swirl, and refract
into recognizable Common. "Ooooh!"
Next
to him, Pidge succumbed to curiosity, opening his book and holding
the glass over it. He wasn't nearly as excited. English.
Yay.
"There has to be a more efficient way to look through these,"
he muttered, starting to skim through pages on the fall of the
Eltoral proto-empire. It wasn't likely to be what they needed.
"This
might not be the most efficient, but it's fun." Sven set aside
the book he'd been looking through—a cataloging of relics from a
race called the Oltrik—and picked out another one. He wished he
could have read all the way through every book here, but they only
had hours, not weeks.
"It
is," Vince agreed with a grin, as Pidge muttered something
skeptical in Baltan.
"Starr
would have enjoyed this," Keith commented as he picked out a
book of his own.
"He
probably would have," Sven agreed, turning a few more pages.
"Why didn't he join us, anyway?"
Smirk.
"Had to leave someone semi-responsible who could man the bridge
in case of trouble."
Vince
looked up for a moment. "But what about La… oh."
He flushed as Keith and Sven snickered; even Pidge gave a snort that
might have been amused. "I'll have to just tell Cam all about
it, then," he decided as he went back to his book.
Discussion
largely ceased as they got deeper into their research. There were so
many books about so many remarkable lost cultures, and again and
again, not one of them mentioned Altea. It was frustrating, if not
surprising…
About
two hours in, a tall, stocky Alceite walked into the red-orange ten
to three parts section and studied the four people there with mild
curiosity. "Friends of Shu're?"
Keith
and Sven both looked up. Vince noted it and looked up too—was that
them? It seemed so; Keith looked at the new arrival and nodded.
"Yes?"
"How
fares your search? I am Tana, the head of the archives. I am
requested to give you all possible aid; the Observer sees value in
your mission." She spoke as slowly as Aja had, but here it
somehow came across far more as dignity than boredom.
Smiling,
Keith turned to more fully face the Alceite. "We would certainly
appreciate any help you can give us. Do you know much of the planet
Altea?"
"Altea.
It is spoken of in myths and rumors throughout much of the Orion
Spur. An ancient paradise of splendor and mystery."
Oooh.
Vince's eyes lit up. That sounded pretty solid.
"It
does not exist, and may never have existed, though many claim to have
seen it."
…Boo.
Vince's face fell.
It
all sounded familiar to his commander, who nodded again. "We're
actually pursuing an individual who believes in these myths and
rumors. Has anyone else been here asking about them?"
"Not
that I am aware. No searches are recorded." Tana looked quite
grave. "Your quest is certain to lead you on many a branching
thread."
No
kidding.
"That
is very true… unfortunately. But anything might help us locate this
individual. Do you know much on these myths?"
"Indeed."
Pulling a chair over, Tana did not actually sit on it, just leaned
over the back. Somehow she managed to do that and still look
dignified. "The myths are as countless as the ancient
civilizations themselves. Altea may have been anywhere—from a local
star, to the galactic core, to a faraway galaxy linked here by their
great magics. Much of that rings untrue. Our expeditions have never
found evidence of them, but the rumors are widespread. The
dissemination of the myth indicates that either Altea, or the
civilization which originally invented the legend, must have been
local to the Spur."
"Hmm."
That sounded… promising, maybe? Sven wasn't sure. Though he was
pretty sure that no matter how much he enjoyed navigation, he was
just as glad he wouldn't need to be navigating great magical links to
other galaxies any time soon.
Keith
thought it sounded promising too, if less concrete than he'd hoped
for. "Do you know of any possible candidates for inventing the
legend?"
"That
we are uncertain of. The Spur has gone through many cycles of close
cooperation, which makes the sources of individual legends very
difficult to trace."
Less
promising, again. So far this search felt like one big exercise in
taking one step forward and two steps back. "And you say you've
never found any physical evidence of Altea?"
"No…
but to be clear," Tana frowned slightly, "that is only to
our knowledge. It is a peril of studying the lost and the forgotten.
In this very library, we possess a vast number of artifacts we know
nothing of except for where they were found. There may well be much
evidence for Altea under this roof, that we simply cannot link to its
makers."
"Really?"
Vince blurted before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure if that
sounded helpful
or
not, but it sure sounded cool. Please
let us look at the stuff, please please…
Similar
thoughts were running through Sven's head; he was trying to think of
any viable excuse to see these relics, preferably one that might
actually help in their mission. Keith came to it first, though. "We
do have at least a couple of indicators, right? Those symbols we
found on Sorthal, or the color pattern in general? And if they know
where they came from…"
"Right!"
the navigator agreed, perhaps slightly too quickly, but who could
blame him? "We should definitely take a look if we can."
Nodding,
Keith turned back to Tana, who didn't seem inclined to address the
question until asked directly. "Would it be possible for us to
at least take a look at these artifacts?"
Tana
nodded. "The word of Shu're is sufficient to access the Hall of
the Unknown. I will direct you to it."
Yes!
Vince
gave a tiny fist pump under the table, and Pidge eyed him strangely.
He didn't care.
"Thank
you!"
"Yes,
thank you. We appreciate it."
"The
Hall is quite extensive, and all its contents are well-labeled. I
will leave you to your investigation there. But before I leave you,
there are two other potential sources I can offer. I cannot speak to
their likelihood of having information."
As
if they could afford to turn that down. "As I said, any lead
might help us, however slim it might seem. We would be grateful for
anything you can provide."
Tana
nodded slowly. "They are not without difficulty, but thus is
your task. The first is a nearby world called Takrekul. They hold
extensive knowledge of myth and legend, and fragmentary tales of
uncertain truth. But they guard that knowledge jealously. If you can
earn their respect, their libraries may be of use to you."
Keith
nodded, writing that down in his datapad. The other three exchanged
skeptical glances. That didn't sound ominous at all… how exactly
they
were supposed to earn the respect of an alien civilization they'd
never heard of would have been nice to know.
"The
other is one of our archaeological agents. A contractor of sorts. He
does not work solely for us, and is careful to keep from us any
information gained from his other benefactors. It is possible he may
have heard rumors that would be useful to you." There was a hint
of disdain in her voice when she mentioned him withholding
information. "His name is Bokar. I believe he is on assignment
on your Alliance's planet of Khoru, but I will confirm that and
provide a letter of introduction. Consult with the reception desk
before you leave."
"All
right. Thank you very much for all of your help." Finishing
typing all that into his datapad, Keith looked around at the others.
"Anything else I might have forgotten?"
"Not
that I can think of."
"Don't
think so."
"Excellent.
I will go and prepare the letter." Tana tapped a colored line on
the floor with her foot. "The blue-violet six to five parts path
will lead you to the Hall of the Unknown. Inform the guard there that
Tana has spoken for you."
No
question this was a long shot, but wasn't their whole mission a long
shot? Keith tucked his datapad away and nodded once more. "Thank
you again, Tana."
"You
are most welcome. May your search be fruitful."
As
she left, the team packed up their books and exchanged nods. Time to
see what they could find. Pidge took up a position just off Sven's
arm, watching him like a hawk; Vince grimaced slightly. "Pidge,
he's with us…"
"Just
making sure he stays that way."
For
his part Sven had pretty much accepted that Pidge was now his shadow.
And as long as he let him have his personal space he was fine with
that. "It's alright, Vince. I'm choosing to think of it as
having a ninja as my own personal bodyguard."
Grinning
and shaking his head, Keith led them down the blue-violet path. It
took them back to the entrance then looped around to a lower level,
where an armored guard was standing before a heavy vault door. The
commander gave him a bow of greeting. "Tana has spoken for us.
We'd like to go into the Hall of the Unknown."
The
guard nodded wordlessly, then turned and started opening the locks.
There were several—some electronic, some manual, some that almost
certainly could only have been opened by an Alceite's paired thumbs.
As he worked Sven glanced over at Vince and whispered, "Even the
name sounds awesome."
Vince
did not whisper, as the excitement he'd been trying to contain burst
out. "I know!"
He
slapped his hands over his mouth and blushed. That
was loud.
The navigator just gave a warm smile at his enthusiasm.
"You
don't need to yell, mechka," Pidge muttered. But Vince didn't
hear him. Because right about then the door swung open.
"You
may enter."
Stepping
in and looking around, Keith felt this shot getting longer and
longer. "This… might be a bit more than we bargained for."
Like
the lobby above, the Hall of the Unknown was a massive hexagonal room
with corridors spidering off on all sides. Artifact cases were
arranged in clusters, with all manner of relics—just from the
doorway Vince could see some broken pottery, a weathered spacecraft
model, and some sort of grayish blob he couldn't even guess at—and
a new series of colored pathways snaking along the floor. He'd
thought the Terinian open market had been overwhelming? He'd had no
idea.
Pidge
looked stunned too. "I think we'll find some colors in here…"
"Where
do we even start?" Sven murmured, taking a few steps further in
and looking around in amazement. There's
so much.
It was like heaven. An incredibly confusing heaven.
Nobody
really answered that. But one by one they started splitting off into
different aisles, studying the bewildering array of artifacts. All
they could do was look at everything available… and hope.
*****
"Flynn,
come on. Hunk's building a snowman. Hunk! It'll have pyrotechnics or
something, come outside with me, man."
"No."
"Why
not? Snow is fun, come on!"
Flynn
was leaning back against the main engineering console with his arms
crossed, trying to keep his expression neutral in the face of one of
Lance's most convincing smiles. "Yes, being wet and cold and
miserable is a lot of fun, but I'll deprive myself of it. It'll be a
struggle."
Lance
rolled his eyes. "You really don't wanna see what the big guy is
making out there? You're really
gonna
miss Hunk doing his thing?"
"Hunk
does his thing all
the time!"
The
chief engineer shrugged helplessly. "That's why it's his thing!
Next planet we go to it'll be raining and he'll drag home a pet whale
or something and we'll forget all about the snow." You're
not really
going
to say no to him, are you?
Hell
if he wouldn't at least try.
It
wasn't an entirely bad point, and Lance laughed. But he wasn't giving
up. "Okay, what if I promise you can stay on the ramp? You won't
get wet then." That got him a sullen look. "And Hunk's
gonna make cocoa later, there might be a no snow no chocolate rule…"
"…Thought
you were trying to convince me to go."
Sigh.
"You and food… fine. We'll stay here. In the boring warmth."
Lance pouted.
Why.
Flynn tried to look away, but it was too late. WHY.
"Put those horrible puppy eyes away, I'm coming."
"Knew
you'd see sense." The pout immediately turned into a triumphant
smirk. "And my puppy eyes are stellar."
"Stellar
was the last planet's area of expertise…" He scowled slightly
at the pilot hovering over him as he went to get his coat. "It's
like you don't trust me."
Grin.
"Whatever would give you that idea?"
"You're
smarter than the average flyboy?" Shaking his head, Flynn pulled
his coat on and glowered. "Lead on."
"Nope!
You go ahead of me, wanna make sure you don't veer off."
"Mentula…"
As
they debated the issue, some others had already headed out. Jace was
sitting on the boarding ramp watching Hunk making his snowman. Or
more accurately, his snow Firecrown.
His painstakingly accurate 1/18th scale snow Firecrown—ten
feet long, ten feet wide, and at least three feet high—complete
with icicles for its point defense weapons and little snow people
representing the original members of the 686 standing beside it.
Cam
poked his head out the airlock and winced as the frigid air hit him.
"Damn, and I thought the moon was cold, at least there it's a
dry
cold…"
The
medic looked up at him and either smirked or grimaced, it was hard to
tell. "Yeah, welcome to the party." Having certainly never
been exposed to snow on Prox, he found it interesting… in
moderation.
This was way past interesting. But he wasn't about to let giant donut
dude be out here and not get made fun of… he was carefully adding a
couple of modified flares to represent the Firecrown's
missile launchers, and Jace frowned. "Hey, that one's out of
position by a centimeter."
Circling
around the front of the ship, Hunk gave his handiwork a critical
look. "Yeah, it is, ain't it?" He was fixing it up as Lance
and Flynn emerged from the ship, and as he finished he stepped away
and pressed a remote switch on his belt. The flares spit little
bursts of sparks a few feet ahead; Cam jumped, but Jace just shook
his head slightly. "Oh heck yeah!"
Lance
gave Flynn a nudge. "See? Say it's not awesome, I dare ya."
"It's
not awesome?" the engineer answered, deadpan.
He
rolled his eyes theatrically. "Liar."
"Guilty."
Flynn grinned slightly, looking back out at the sculpture. It was
pretty impressive… even if it was
snow.
Daniel
came out behind them, and immediately started shivering. His nice
warm hoodie was not made for real
cold.
His regrets only doubled when he noted that Lance was already
present. This
was a bad idea… whoa!
Catching
sight of Hunk's project made him forget the cold for a moment. "Wow,
that's awesome! Are those supposed to be us?"
"Hey,
kid." Lance grinned. "Pretty sure they are."
"Think
it's just the first batch," Jace pointed out, looking up at the
new arrival for a moment. "Lucky you."
Ignoring
them both—Lance because he was committed to his course of action,
Jace because he was Jace—Daniel went down the ramp to stand next to
Cam. "It's fuckin' cold."
"Yeah,
it is cold," his roommate agreed, giving him a judgmental look.
"Where's your coat?"
"This
is
my
coat." He gestured to his hoodie and pulled it tighter around
him. This was so
not
working.
"That's
not a coat." Shaking his head, Cam pulled off his own coat and
handed it over. "Here."
"Maybe
you should get another hoodie to put over it?" Lance suggested
at the same time; he wasn't too sure what Daniel had against coats,
but he was ready to help enable it if necessary. "Or if you need
a real coat you can borrow one of mine."
"Don't
need your coat," he muttered flatly to Lance as he accepted
Cam's. "Thanks man, you sure you don't need it?"
"Yeah…
'cause Cam freezing now makes a lot more sense," Lance agreed,
blinking. Daniel made a point of rolling his eyes.
"Starr
can have my coat," Flynn offered quickly, "and I can go
back
inside."
He tried to move to that effect, but the flyboy who'd dragged him out
here grabbed his arm to stop him.
Cam
waved away all the concern. "I'm fine. I'm Russian, I'm from the
moon, I think I can handle a little cold!" He was totally not
fine, though it really wasn't that
bad.
He waved Jace's scowl off too, then snagged something out of his coat
pocket before walking down the ramp to take a closer look at Hunk's
work. "Sir, if those are us, which one is me?"
The
big man gave him a very
odd
look, but opted to address the question first. "Doc was right,
it's just the first six. This is our old ship. But if you guys want
aboard…" He grabbed a handful of snow and circled around to
the snow-Firecrown's
boarding ramp, and a minute later four more snow people were gathered
around the base. "There ya go!"
Grinning,
Cam held out what he'd retrieved from his coat—a tiny toothpick
Russian flag. His granny had given him a whole pack of them before he
left, telling him to place them on worlds they visited for luck.
Which was fine, except he'd been so excited to be visiting other
planets that he'd kind of forgotten about them at their first stops.
This seemed like the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time.
"Could you have mine holding this?"
Hunk
accepted the flag with a curious look, then chuckled. "Duh,
Comrade!" He planted it beside one of the snow people, then shot
their comms officer a dirty look. "Also if you call me 'sir'
ever again I'll make you eat well done steak."
Oh.
Oh right. Cam blushed furiously; he was used to thinking of all the
team's veteran members as superiors. "I wasn't… um, I was
addressing the Lieutenant."
There
was only one lieutenant out here, and Lance snorted. "Ever call
me 'sir' again, I'll have Hunk feed you well done steak." Flynn
snickered.
"What
he said! Cuz we totally believe that totally true statement."
Winking at Cam, Hunk took the opportunity to refine the other snow
people: a couple of snow jackets, a snow ponytail, some snow glasses,
a snow crown…
"Who's
the one with the crown?"
Grin.
"That's the boss!"
Cam
blinked. "Why a crown?" It seemed like there were other
ways, more accurate ones, to represent command. Then again, their
bomb tech had some very interesting
outlooks
on things. "You consider him a tsar or something?"
"Nah."
The big guy chuckled again. "He won a costume contest back on
Halloween, and I stuck the crown he won in his locker and it ended up
in the trash, so I kinda have no choice but to put it there. It's a
matter of principle, yeah?"
…Wait,
what now?
"He
went out for Halloween? He won a contest?
How
did I not get to see pictures of that, but got to see the ninja beat
up Doc?" It wasn't even his particular interest in Commander
Kogane that prompted the question—not entirely, anyway—it just
seemed like that was the sort of thing the whole unit should know
about.
Hunk
arched a conspiratorial eyebrow. "I hear Lance has pictures."
"Better
believe I do!" Pulling out his datapad, Lance beckoned the kids
over. Only Cam actually approached, and he shot Daniel a concerned
look. He should've been the first to jump… and he'd been weird
about the coat, too. Something's
off.
"Hey kid, come on, you haven't lived until you've seen bossman
covered in glitter." Surely that
was
an offer he couldn't refuse. But Daniel just looked at him and rolled
his eyes again, then turned away.
What
the fuck?
Noticing
the tension, Cam took Lance's datapad and poked the gunner in the
ribs. "Here, you'll be sorry later if you miss this."
Though truthfully, he'd expected something much more scandalous than
glitter.
Daniel
looked at the pictures and snorted. "Oh, I didn't know he'd have
clothes on along with the glitter. Big deal."
There
was nothing, nothing,
that could make Cam even admit to having heard that comment. He
busied himself scrolling through the pictures. But Lance wasn't going
to let it go so easily; he walked over to the kid and poked his
shoulder. Lightly. "Hey, you alright?"
No,
he was not alright. He was still cold, albeit so
grateful
to have a coat… and he also really needed the lieutenant
not
to make this any harder than it needed to be. A momentary instinct to
answer him truthfully drowned in a wave of doubt and better judgment.
"Would you just fucking stop?"
Lance
did not fucking stop. He looked taken aback, but did exactly the
opposite of stopping. "Fucking stop what exactly?"
"This!"
Daniel half-yelled, gesturing widely. Oh
yeah, he'll totally understand now.
He
rolled his eyes yet again, this time at himself, though that
distinction probably wasn't any more clear from the outside. He
really didn't want this conversation. He just wanted to get the
inevitable over with. Quit
acting already, you know where this goes.
"Okay…"
Lance kept staring at him, which still was not fucking stopping.
"Come on, you sure you won't tell me what's bugging you?"
Fine,
they could do it like that. "You. You're
bugging
me."
The
pilot's eyebrows shot up. "What?" What
the fuck did I do?
Granted,
he was very good at bugging people, in fact he prided himself on his
abilities in that area. But those were talents he employed
intentionally.
"Just
go the fuck away! Why are you making this so hard?" His yelling
was starting to get attention from the others, but his earlier
insecurity was giving way to a bubbling anger. He didn't care
anymore. If he had to force the issue, so fucking be it.
Glancing
back and exchanging confused looks with Flynn, Lance risked another
step closer. Something
is definitely wrong.
"Look,
Dan, just talk to me, alright? Making what hard?"
"Don't
call me Dan!" he snarled. "It's Daniel, what's so fucking
hard about that?"
"Watch
it, Brennan." Flynn's tone was cool, though not hostile. This
was rapidly getting out of hand. "What's the problem?"
Daniel
growled in frustration; he wasn't the least bit interested in having
this defused from the outside. "Stuff it, ponytail!"
"Whoa!
Hey, don't take whatever the hell problem you have with me out on
him!"
…Maybe
it was already out of hand. Flynn's eyes narrowed. "I'll take
this if you want," he muttered under his breath, "and only
if
you want."
"No.
Not yet at least." Part of Lance's refusal came from a very
reasoned and logical suspicion that whatever Daniel's problem was,
the ranking officer present going after him wouldn't improve things.
Part of it—maybe most of it—came from plain old stubbornness. He
turned back to the kid and raised his own voice. "Talk to me!"
"There's
NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT!" Daniel full-on screamed this time,
clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. And because they
were cold. This was supposed to be simple. He was supposed to start
the cascade, and Lance would cut him loose. Simple.
Jace
had been trying his damnedest to ignore the drama behind him, but
there wasn't much else to focus on now that Cam and Hunk were just
staring blankly at the argument. So he glanced over his shoulder and
scowled. "If you fuckers don't knock it off, I will turn this
ramp right the fuck around—"
Flynn
kicked him. That definitely
wasn't
going to help.
With
a long, frustrated sigh, Lance decided it was time to try
disengaging. At least a little. "Obviously something is fucking
wrong, I just… okay, whatever the hell it is, you can talk to me. I
can wait until you're ready."
Until
I'm ready?
Daniel
stared at him blankly. Yet again he was realizing he wasn't good at
arguments when the other person didn't argue back. Why
isn't he yelling? Why isn't he telling me to screw off?
"What
is wrong
with
you?"
"What's
bothering you?"
"Nothing!"
They were going in circles, and—
"—Little
dude, chill!" A snowball smacked Daniel squarely in the back of
the neck.
For
a moment, all the stunned looks turned from Lance and Daniel to Hunk.
Then Lance gave the kid a sly grin. "You gonna let that stand?"
Daniel
stared back at him, whatever he might have yelled back evaporating in
an instant. The snow seemed to have short-circuited his thoughts and
his anger, leaving only one certainty: "Fuck no!" Bending
over, he packed a snowball of his own and chucked it back at the big
guy; next to him Lance was doing the same.
Oh.
Um.
Cam
wasn't entirely certain what was happening, but he knew he seemed to
suddenly be directly in the crossfire… and he didn't even have a
coat. Great.
Real smart, Starr.
He dove behind the snow Firecrown.
Hunk
ducked behind the ship as well, eyeing Cam and frowning slightly. He
had way more insulation than their comms officer did; he pulled his
coat off and tossed it over. "You need the armor more than me,
little dude!" Another couple of snowballs rained down almost
immediately. "Oh no! We're under attack! Man your
battlestations!"
"…Oh
hell no. Fuck
my
battlestation." Jace slid down the ramp and grabbed a snowball,
flinging it back over his shoulder without really looking where it
was going. If he was going to be part of whatever the hell had just
happened, he was damn sure going to be hiding behind the huge snow
sculpture too.
Unfortunately
for him, his unaimed snowball smacked a confused Flynn directly in
the face. "…Okay, you know what? Fuck you,
fuck snowballs, fuck snow in general, fuck this blizzard in
particular…" Forgoing any rules of engagement entirely, he
jumped off the ramp and tackled Jace into a snowdrift.
Cam
stared. "Hey big guy, I think your boss is on our side… maybe?
I don't know, I'm confused."
Everyone
seemed more or less confused at this point, which had been exactly
the
goal.
Daniel
jumped off the ramp too, using it as a shield as he lobbed more
snowballs at the others. Lance hopped down next to him; it was a good
spot. "Hell no, Flynn's on our team!" He turned to the
gunner, handing him a snowball. "We've gotta win this."
For
a moment, maybe half a second, the thought of taking that snowball
and shoving it into the pilot's face came and went. Daniel could feel
the anger draining away in the face of a challenge, and smiled
slightly. "Yeah." He accepted the snowball, feeling a
momentary pang of guilt, then brushed it aside. Screw guilt. They had
an opposing team to mercilessly
destroy.
Right
about then Flynn came charging over to the ramp, yelling a lot of
Latin profanity that may or may not have actually existed—Jace had
unceremoniously flipped him face-first into the snowbank. For his own
part the medic retreated and vaulted over the snow ship, packing a
couple of loose snowballs and pitching them over the dubious shelter.
"Sorry Camshaft, you're stuck with me."
Their
comms officer eyed his unconvincing snowballs and shook his head
slightly. "As long as you've got good aim, Doc. I'll make 'em,
you throw 'em?"
"I
like precision. Bring it." A snowball from Lance nailed him in
the face. "Porra, not that
much
precision!"
Crouching
behind the ramp, Flynn shot Lance a look that probably could have
vaporized most of this blizzard in particular. "Flyboy, remind
me to murder
you
later."
He started packing the snow as hard as he could, pitching the
resulting iceballs directly at the snow ship. They wanted a fight,
they'd best be ready to deal with artillery.
Lance
just laughed and gave him a thumbs-up. That's
my…
blink.
…That's
my grease monkey.
Yeah,
he'd roll with that.
Grateful
as he'd been to have Cam's coat earlier, Daniel found it was
restricting his movement a bit more than he liked now. The only valid
solution was taking it off and tossing it into a snowbank—winning
was way
more
important than little things like not getting frostbite. Laughing, he
started hurling more snowballs over their shelter.
The
snow Firecrown—Snowcrown?—was
taking an awful lot of abuse, and so were the people trying to hide
behind it. Hunk grabbed one of the missile launcher flares and pulled
a screwdriver from his pocket, making a few tweaks. "Hang in
there, my dudes, we're gonna have some suppressive fire!" A
minute later the modified flare began to spew waves of snow over the
ship.
Lance
dropped and covered his head. "That's cheating!"
"All's
fair in snowball war, Lieutenant!" Cam yelled back, smirking.
"Yeah,
what he said!" Hunk agreed… only to almost immediately be
nailed in the chin with one of Flynn's iceballs as it bounced off the
Snowcrown's
top. "…Even that, I guess."
Lieutenant,
again? "It. Is. LANCE!" He took careful aim and winged Cam
in the forehead with a snowball. "Hunk, make that bad steak!"
Laughing
madly, Hunk didn't even notice immediately that his snow flare was
sputtering out. A few seconds later when it went out completely, he
noticed.
"Uh oh." Diving back under cover, though not before taking
a few hits, he grabbed a couple of Cam's snowballs and chucked them
over. Time
to do things the old-fashioned way!
An
hour later they found themselves pretty much out of usable snow, and
the truce was signaled by waving Cam's tiny toothpick flag. Standing
over the ruins of the Snowcrown,
the others exchanged a few mildly guilty looks.
"Well…"
"It
died bravely."
"Sorry,
big guy?"
Hunk
just shrugged. "Kinda knew we'd wreck the thing eventually,
yeah?" He wasn't talking about the snow one.
"Does
seem fitting," Jace agreed.
Finding
one last snowball, Flynn picked it up and stuffed it down the back of
Lance's jacket. "Won't get wet, you said. Cevete…"
Their
pilot yelped. "How was I supposed to know Hunk would start
Snowmageddon?!"
"Because
he's Hunk?" A wicked smirk crossed the other engineer's face.
"You're supposed to keep him under control, you're an officer."
Oh
no he didn't. "You're
an
officer. I'm a flyboy." He turned to Daniel and put a tentative
hand on his shoulder. "So hey, you doing better?"
"Define
better," he answered through chattering teeth. His hoodie was
soaked, really everything was soaked, and as he looked around he gave
a slight wince. "Dude, Cam, I lost your coat."
"You'd
better find it! I need that!" Cam himself was flexing and
blowing on his fingers, hoping he might actually feel them again
sometime soon.
Snort.
"It's fuckin' cold, find your own coat. I can barely move."
He'd
expected a glare; what he got was more of a pout. Fanboy really was
trying. "And here I was nice enough to let you borrow it…"
Looking
around the carnage, Jace caught sight of a bit of dark fabric poking
out from beneath a layer of crusted snow. He went over and pulled
Cam's coat from the mess, tossing it at Daniel. "Any of you
people end up with frostbite or pneumonia, I'll quarantine your ass
out of spite."
Quarantine
didn't sound all that bad, really. At least it would probably be
warm. Cam watched his coat hit Daniel and fall to the ground, and
couldn't quite suppress a snicker.
"Hey,
I found your coat!"
"Yeah,
sure you did. Thanks, Doc."
Lance
was grinning, though he was also starting to really feel the cold
himself, now that he had ice water running down his back. "Come
on, let's go get warm. Hunk, hot chocolate?"
"Oh
you better believe hot chocolate, bro." They trooped up the
boarding ramp, weaving around splatters of ice and snow. "We've
got normal, extra dark, cookies and cream, chocolate mint, and spicy
hot murder pepper!"
"Nobody
wants murder pepper."
"Make
mine extra dark, like my mood." Jace was grinning as he said it.
"I'm gonna go grab my kit and get some warming blankets, because
what the fuck." He split off from them at the elevator, leaving
Cam staring after him with a bit of concern. The Doc was scary
sometimes.
Lance
leaned back against the elevator wall and closed his eyes a moment,
exhaling. Then he stepped back next to Flynn as they headed for the
galley. "That was a weird day."
"That's
the word you want to go with?" Flynn grumbled.
"Fucking
confusing work better?" His eyes went to Daniel, who was a
little too obviously avoiding looking back at him as he started
peeling off his drenched hoodie.
Now
his friend nodded slightly. "Rings true…"
"Think
the snowball fight helped, though." I
hope so.
"Only
thing snow's ever helped," Flynn snorted, dumping his own soaked
coat on the floor and shivering. "Faex."
Biting
back the offer to warm him up, Lance dropped into a chair and shook
his head. He still had no idea what had happened out there, but at
least he hadn't punched anyone in the face this time. For the moment,
hot chocolate was waiting… but something told him they would be
revisiting this. And probably sooner rather than later.
*****
The
Hall of the Unknown had not held anything with the symbols from
Sorthal. They knew, because they'd looked at everything. Everything.
Or at least as close to everything as humanly possible.
Colors?
Oh, there had been colors. Using that criteria as a clue had gone out
the window by the end of the first room.
"I
could use a nap after all that… stuff." Keith couldn’t think
of another word to describe the sheer amount of artifacts they'd
looked over. So much stuff.
"I
don’t think I’ve ever seen so many things at once in my life,"
Vince agreed. It had been fascinating, but he was pretty sure his
brain was actually sore.
Pidge
resisted rolling his eyes. He wondered if they really
expected
to just walk in there and find a nice neat answer. He didn’t voice
his opinion, though. It would probably just start a misunderstanding,
and he was trying to avoid those.
Sven
just nodded. Sifting through so many fragments of unidentified
cultures and planets had left his brain in a state of overdrive. The
cold snow they were trekking through was nice though. It reminded him
of Norway, and was helping him unwind. Which he desperately needed.
So much stuff.
As
they got closer to the Bolt,
the small group all stopped in their tracks. The ramp was covered in
snow and ice, bits of snow were clinging to the hull, and what looked
like it must have once been an elaborate snow sculpture was sitting
ruined in the shadow of the ship.
"Uh…"
Keith looked around and frowned slightly. "Do we want to know
what happened here?"
"No,"
Pidge answered flatly.
"Um."
Vince just blinked.
"Not
particularly." Sven shook his head.
Keith
supposed they were right, really. Maybe he should just take the ship
being intact as a win. "Well, be careful going up the ramp.
Don’t need anyone to be visiting Doc."
"Yessir."
Pidge walked around past the bottom of the ramp and jumped, grabbing
the top, climbing up and quickly disappearing into the airlock. Vince
once again was left blinking. Keith stared after him, a little
shocked.
"Wow,
that was impressive."
"Ninjas."
Sven was nodding.
"Yeah.
Still, knowing and seeing…" Their commander shook his head
slightly. "Anyway, let's get inside, shall we?"
Picking
their way around the snow and the ice, they climbed back aboard the
Bolt.
Onward to the next… whatever.
*****
Alfor
stood in the Black Lion’s den, everything he'd been able to gather
spread out before him. Notes from his grandfather, bits and pieces
collected over the years, some so unlikely to be helpful that even he
had not looked at them closely yet… now his eyes scanned them
carefully before dismissing them for what might be a final time. Arus
couldn't afford to have him chasing false leads, not now.
Running
his fingers through his beard, he huffed in frustration. He had hoped
that at least something
he
had put in storage would offer a clue. It was like trying to find the
lost pieces of a puzzle that had been sitting on the table for years.
There was not much time left now… he would have to be on the move
again. But perhaps he could be allowed something from the spirits,
some guidance, however slight. Sitting down before the great lion, he
entered a meditative trance.
The
king had done a great many meditations, he was familiar with them.
But this one felt very different. Almost as if it was not his body he
was in…
He
could feel himself moving. Not much, but it was movement. How long
had it been since he could feel this? He tried to open his eyes, but
found them still heavy. No matter. Even if he was feeling nothing
more than stiffness, it was more than he had felt in ages. Surely it
was just a matter of time before he could move further. How much
time? Struck by the urge to sleep once more, he tried to fight it by
focusing himself on a thought.
He
quickly found that to be difficult in itself; his mind, like his
body, was stiff and heavy. There had to be a better way to focus…
perhaps his surroundings? Save for a chill, biting in his weakened
state, there seemed to be nothing. Nothing but a faint sound. He
twitched his ears to hone in to the sound, someone softly chanting in
a gentle rhythmic manner.
A
voice… yes… I’ve heard this before.
Focusing
on the voice, he found himself straining to hear it better. It was
hard at first, but he could start to hear the voice clearer. It was
male, his tone full of worry and fear.
He
tried to reach out to the voice, wanting it to be louder, or to come
closer so he could understand more as it wavered from some great
distance. But his own voice was so weak, he barely let out a breath.
So he listened and slowly gathered his strength, testing his muscles,
carefully checking for what he could and could not do. He had no
plans to remain in this position.
Alfor's
eyes blinked open. Startled, he looked about himself. He was awake
now, still within Black’s den, the vision still sharp in his mind.
The voice he'd heard in the distance… his own? Looking once more at
the sleeping lion, he stood and touched one of its claws. "Was
that you?" he murmured. "Trapped within sleep, trying to
wake?"
Frowning
as the Black Lion seemed unresponsive to his words, he lowered his
hand. Perhaps his vision was the lion’s only response. Trapped…
wanting to wake, yet unable. Sighing, Alfor gathered what notes he
could make use of, preparing himself to leave the den. His people
needed him. There were generals to work with, forces to move. But the
answers for how to move the Great Lions were not to be found here.
Whispering
prayers for the answer to be revealed soon, he started to make his
way back.
*****
Morning
didn't fall on Korrinoth the way it did on Pollux. No sunlight
streaming in the windows—they were deep in the belly of the castle,
a protected place for the royalty of a warlike kingdom. Not that this
part of Korrinoth had a great deal of sunlight anyway. The constant
overcast was hauntingly beautiful, in its own way. But Romelle would
have given a great deal to be awakened by a sunbeam in her face
again, just once.
Today
it was pale blue fingers on her cheek, which was much less welcome.
"Did you sleep well, a'kuri?"
"I…"
She blinked. Much of the night was actually rather fuzzy. Lotor was
being more gentle with her lately, which she appreciated, though
she'd have appreciated having a choice in the first place even more.
"I think so." Shivering a little, she pulled the thin sheet
up further.
"Excellent."
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her, which she gratefully
accepted. If nothing else, he was warm.
"I have an invitation for you today. Your people are being given
a great honor."
…Why
did that sound so ominous? Maybe because she knew what he considered
an honor and what she would consider an honor didn't often have all
that much overlap. "Are they?" she asked finally,
hesitantly.
"Indeed.
Our far border is being threatened by a powerful band of marauders,
and your fleet will be the vanguard against them."
Yes,
that was definitely not what she would have called an honor… though
she suspected even her father would think otherwise. More interesting
was the other element of what he'd said. The idea that the kingdom
could be threatened
was
not one she'd entertained before. "Marauders? Do you have…
marauders to deal with often?"
"Surprisingly
so. There is a small null zone on that border; a place that
interferes with sensors and extraplanar travel. Pirates use it as a
haven. Every so often, they become bold and try to plunder the riches
of their betters, and we are obligated to slaughter them." He
eyed her curiously. "Does the thought of such attacks worry
you?"
"Worry?"
She blushed slightly. "I wouldn't call it worry, exactly. More
that I just… hadn't thought anyone would be so brave, I suppose."
He
chuckled softly. "Indeed. Their courage is admirable, but
courage alone rarely wins battles. It is a pity they waste themselves
so." Shifting a little and kissing the side of her head, he
murmured, "Would you like to watch the battle? I will have a
feed from the flagship, to witness the glory that unfolds."
To
watch? Romelle blinked. The thought of observing a warship battle as
if it were a spectator sport also hadn't occurred to her… then
again, she was aware they watched gladiatorial combat as an actual
spectator sport. Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her. As to
whether she wanted
to
watch…
Did
she? It was hard to decide. On one hand, she was uneasy… people
would die, possibly many people. Possibly many of her
people.
It didn't seem like appropriate entertainment. Then again, Lotor
hadn't called it entertainment. He had called it witnessing the
glory, as if to watch was to honor the fighters. Could she really
refuse them that honor?
Besides,
all her misgivings aside, it sounded… interesting. Her father had
kept her sheltered from warlike pursuits, insisting she remain pure
and innocent. It had seemed silly to her, even before
he'd
sent her off to wed the prince of a warrior race. For her people,
both old and new, this was something she would need to learn of. So
there was only one answer, really.
"I
would be honored."
She
hoped she wouldn't regret it.
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