Saturday, July 27, 2019

(On the Hunt) Chapter 11


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 Firecrownten 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 FirecrownSnowcrown?—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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