(On the Hunt) Chapter 8

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 8

Cultural Exchange

The Vagrant-class had five crew rooms, and they weren't all created equally. Flynn had flatly refused to take a senior officer's stateroom to himself, given the team dynamics, and apparently either logically persuaded or guilted Keith into agreeing with him. So they were sharing one, while Sven and Jace took the other; Hunk and Lance had laid claim to general quarters, which was much less comfortable, but had much more space. That left the two junior officers' quarters for the kids. Daniel and Cam were in one, and Vince… well… he didn't actually see much of Pidge, but his stuff was on the other side of the room. They were both being kept pretty busy.

At least the first leg of the trip had been short. According to Hunk, they'd taken a spatial rift the last time they'd traveled here… which sounded terrifying. The Bolt's hyperspace thrusters had gotten them there in just about the same time, no half-understood extraplanar phenomena required. The landing on Terina had been gloriously uneventful, and now it was time to get their marching orders.

Vince was the last one in to the briefing—not late, just not early, either—the conference rooms were fairly large, but the whole crew in one room was still a little much. There were donuts on the table, of course. He grabbed one and sat down next to Flynn, watching their commander pace.

"Okay, let's get things sorted out. Preferably better than last time." Their first trip here had been a bit of a rude awakening, and Keith had no desire to repeat the process. "Garrett, are your bombs taken care of?"

"Yup! Got 'em stashed in the smuggler's hold."

"Exce… what?" The commander looked at him, then over at his chief engineer, blinking. "We have a smuggler's hold?"

"No."

That didn't tell him anything. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"

Flynn sipped his coffee. "Not particularly."

"…Okay then." Plausible deniability it was, he supposed. "You'll be overseeing the inspection this time, you're the one who's going to end up in a cell if it isn't dealt with properly…"

"It's fine, boss." Hunk sounded mildly offended. It was true that they technically didn't have a smuggler's hold. Three heavily shielded storage lockers masquerading as empty bunks in general quarters seemed like it still fit the spirit of the thing.

"I'm holding you to that." Frown. "I want you in your quarters during the inspection. And if they need to look at the crew quarters, the word 'chicken' had better not so much as cross your mind."

Hunk shrugged. If he never had to deal with any alien inspectors again, he'd really be just as happy as his boss with the situation. "You got it."

"Now, our mission here is to get information. We have to assume there's somewhere we can go for answers, we just have to find out where. I'll be going, of course. Lance, Sven, I want one of you to come with me—you have experience with the Terinians." So did he, true, but their experience had gone substantially better.

"I'm in." Lance grinned slightly. "Hunk, can I borrow one of those Hawaiian shirts you brought along?"

"Won't fit you, bro, but if it makes you happy?"

"Oh, it will." He hoped it would make the locals happy. "Kid, you're coming along, right?"

"…No?" Daniel muttered, backing up a step. He didn't like birds. He really didn't like birds.

Cam brightened. "I'd like to go." He was eager to look around a real alien planet. Besides, as the communications officer he felt obligated to go assist with communications… even if he wasn't fully sure what he could do in this situation.

"I would, but I need to have a look around the spaceport, I'm afraid." Sven made a face. "My razor neglected to make it into my bags." He accompanied that statement with a glare at Jace; clearly the medic had either been responsible, or was having too much fun with it.

Keith nodded. "Okay. Brennan, you're coming with us, then. I'm not leaving you alone on the bridge."

In any other circumstance, Daniel would have had plenty to say about that. Not being trusted alone on the bridge was really kind of a badge of honor. But the thought of having to go out there superseded anything else. "Huh? What do you mean I have to go? I can stay here without staying on the bridge! There's rec rooms! Perfectly good rec rooms!"

Truthfully, Keith wasn't sure he trusted Daniel anywhere on the ship during the required inspection, either. Then again, he couldn't do much worse than they had last time. He was about to accept the protest when Cam spoke up, smirking. "Oh come on, Danny. Where's that daredevil spirit of yours?"

"Yeah, come on, kid. I'll keep you out of trouble." Lance winked.

"Dude, I can't go out there. I'm, uh, I'm allergic. Uh, to the Terinians."

He probably should have known better than to try to get away with that with Jace present. "Brennan, they're birds, not cranberries."

Great. "…Okay fine." He glared around at all of them; nobody seemed too intimidated. Nobody except Vince, who he hadn't even been aiming at. Whoops.

"The rest of you, I'd say to do as you see fit, but I know better. Just…" Keith shook his head slowly. "Just don't do anything that'll lead to us needing an illegal escape from the planet. Can you handle that?"

"Totally."

"Probably."

"Fifty-fifty?"

Keith glared.

"Easy, Kogane." Flynn drained his coffee and leaned back. "As long as the local wildlife doesn't try to kill us again, we'll be fine. The bar isn't high."

That was… probably true, actually. Sighing, he stopped pacing and looked over the team. "Okay. Fifteen minutes to get prepped, then we get to work. Dismissed."

*****

Vince had not been given any orders. So he found himself wandering the long corridors of the Bolt, searching for a reason to avoid going back to his quarters. Pidge would probably be there, and he didn't want to deal with him. That wasn't entirely fair, the ninja had saved his life as many times as he'd threatened to stab him. It was just uncomfortable.

Not that anything would've really prevented that, he supposed. He'd known going in that Explorer Teams were a bit on the crazy side, but it was the things he hadn't anticipated that kept throwing him. For instance, growing up with two mothers and the girl next door as his best friend, he was used to… a very different demographic than the one that existed on the ship just now. He'd have been reeling a little anyway. The presence of an unpredictable alien ninja as his bunkmate just wasn't helping anything.

Really he wanted to go outside, to get a look at an alien planet. But the thought of just going off alone made him nervous.

The sound of footsteps on the deck plating snapped him out of his musings; he looked up to see a very determined navigator heading his way. A small sigh of relief escaped him. A sane person!

A sane person who didn't seem to have actually noticed him, though. He spoke up hesitantly. "Sven, hey… what’s up?" Wait, was it okay to address an officer like that? He grimaced slightly. Awkward.

Sven startled a little before making eye contact. "Hello!" He'd been preoccupied with his own thoughts—he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to pack a razor. He was becoming quite scruffy looking by now, Jace had mentioned it. A lot. As if he had any room to talk, Sven had never once seen him clean-shaven, and yet. He took a moment to rub his growing facial hair and shrugged. "I’m off to the market behind the spaceport, hopefully I can find a razor."

Oh, right. Vince touched his own face in response, wondering if that would start happening to him soon… he seemed overdue. In any case, the market sounded like it could be fun. "Can I come?"

"Absolutely!" Sven smiled. He'd be happy for the company, and of all the kids, so far he was pretty sure Vince was his favorite. Not that he'd say it out loud. But he had been the one to bring up going to Kaliega, that was worth all kinds of points.

"Awesome!" Vince grinned, excitement in his voice. He was going to get a glimpse of another world after all.

They left the ship and began making their way through the port, speeding past the docking stations to the open market behind it. Both team members were immediately thrust into a world of bright colors and trinkets. It was quite a bit to take in.

"Wow," Sven murmured, looking around in amazement. They'd passed by here the last time, but passing by hadn't prepared him for stepping into the midst of things; he was overcome with how breathtaking it all was.

"Wow…" Vince echoed, blinking and looking around in awe. His eyes bugged out at a few Terinians as they walked by, a rainbow of shimmering colors and bright eyes. Amazing…

Sven had slowed his walk, trying to take everything in, and smiled when he noticed Vince's expression. "A beautiful people, aren’t they?"

"Yeah, they really are." The whole place felt like it was humming from all the chirping around him. "It’s kind of surreal…"

"Yes, it is… and I hope I never get used to it." Sven shook his head, refusing to get any more distracted. He was here on a mission. "Now, which one of these shops do you think sells razors?"

Vince looked around for a minute before responding. "Would they even shave? I mean, I’d want to keep my feathers?"

"No they wouldn’t," Sven agreed, frowning slightly. "But with this market being so close to the port, they might sell things for other races. And the Bataxi certainly will."

Oh, duh, Vince. "True." He'd barely even noticed the scurrying saurians until Sven mentioned them—the Terinians kind of stole the spotlight. Looking around more closely he spotted an open stall with an array of glittering stones, and decided that looked like a great place to start the search. "I’ll check over there."

"Alright." Sven himself found a small shop that looked promising. "I’ll be in here if you need me."

Vince nodded, looking over all the trinkets and stones, trying to find anything that looked like a serviceable blade. He kept getting caught up in all the colors and glitter. It didn't take long for him to start to feel overwhelmed, and he decided to go find the navigator again. Safety in numbers.

Sven’s shop seemed to be a joint venture between a Terinian and a couple of Bataxi. It was filled with things that were obviously meant to be souvenirs, but many didn’t look to be of Terinian origin. Which was promising. Pausing at a small statue, he picked it up to have a closer look, immediately noting it was a bit heavier than it appeared. It had two birds, both colored in shades of black and dark purple. They were sculpted to look as if they were in mid-flight—the carving was less detailed than it was evocative, the sweeping lines making it look like the birds might lift off from his hand at any moment.

Wandering up to him, Vince took note of the small statue in his hand. "There are too many things to look at… what’s that?"

"It’s just a statue." He smiled. "It reminds me of some I’ve seen in Norway depicting Huginn and Muninn."

The young engineer paused a moment; he’d heard those names before but couldn’t quite place them. "Is that from Norse mythology?" he asked a little hesitantly, hoping he'd guessed correctly. He had, if the navigator's giant smile was an indicator.

"Yes. They’re ravens, helping spirits to Odin. They would fly around the whole world every day and report everything they saw back to him." Sven restrained himself to giving the brief description, slightly surprised the kid had even been able to place them in the correct mythology. Most couldn’t.

"Right." Vince nodded, it was coming back now. "I took a mythology overview course but I don’t remember much. If it isn’t electrical, a lot of the time it falls out of my head."

"I understand that. I took one engineering class and quickly learned that it was not for me." Sven chuckled slightly. He'd switched his cross-training focus to piloting very fast. "Mythology on the other hand always resonated. I love history, and the myths that go along with it."

"Well, I did enjoy the navigation class I took, but the math was too theoretical for me." Vince generally liked math, but that had been a lot of math, and there had been more letters involved than numbers.

Sven gave a small laugh. "The math is one of my favorite parts." Really everything about navigation was his favorite, but technically that did make the math one of his favorite parts.

"Myths are great, one of my moms is an expert in African history, and she talks about their myths a lot—guess I should have listened better," Vince admitted sheepishly, as the other man looked immediately intrigued.

"Oh, but that sounds interesting! You’ll have to tell me about the parts you do remember sometime." Looking at the small statue in his hand, Sven made a decision. "I’m going to buy this." They both started walking towards to the Terinian teller at the front of the shop.

Vince smiled and shook his head as Sven checked out… and nearly jumped out of his skin when one of the Bataxi took the expended credit chip and shattered it with one swift strike of her tail. Sheesh! He didn't speak again until they were out of the shop."I'll think on it, I'll tell you if I can remember anything specific enough. She thinks it’s important to know our cultural history…" His smile faded, a familiar pang running through him. It always did. Knowing he didn’t know where half of his genetics even came from… he loved his moms, obviously, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder. It kind of felt like something pulling constantly inside of him, but with no indication of where to go.

"It is important to know our history," Sven agreed. "It’s how society keeps from making the same mistakes over and over..." Finally he noticed Vince’s faded smile. "What’s wrong?"

He shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I just wonder sometimes. Where the sperm…" As soon as the word came out he blushed furiously, maybe that had been too casual. What did you just say to him? "…comes from," he finished weakly when it became clear the navigator wasn't going to rescue him.

Sven ignored the blush, and tried to empathize. "I’d wonder too, if I didn’t know where half of me came from. Have you ever considered having your DNA run for ancestry?"

"Oh… no, no. I can’t do that, it would hurt the moms' feelings."

Sven blinked. "May I ask why?" He wasn’t trying to be rude, but he was a little confused as to why that would hurt their feelings. It seemed like knowledge should be a good thing.

This time the casual shrug was a little more convincing. "They pretend they don’t know which of them I’m genetically linked to. Despite it being glaringly obvious. They’re just weird like that. Moms, you know?"

"Mothers can be quite… weird." Weird had not been the word Sven had wanted to use. Vexing worked much better for him, but he figured it wouldn’t be polite to lump Vince's mothers in with his own frustrating one. The kid's affection was clear in his tone.

"Tell me about it." Vince hesitated a moment, then decided what the hell, he'd already brought up sperm, may as well be completely honest. "It’s kind of strange not having any women around, to be honest."

That was an interesting point, actually. "I hadn't really given that much thought," Sven admitted, "but that’s probably because before I joined this team, I was in a room by myself studying asteroids." There hadn’t been anyone around him at all in his Deep Space Defense Agency cubicle, man or woman. So when he finally got an assignment where he’d be interacting with other people almost constantly, the fact that none of his teammates were female had never even crossed his mind.

"That sounds kind of fun, if you ask me."

"I did not find it to be fun at all. The math was fun, but otherwise it got incredibly boring incredibly fast. I became a navigator to get off of Earth, and somehow—" Ha. As if you don’t know how. "—I ended up stuck alone in a room on Earth."

"Well, now you’re in the middle of an open market surrounded by sentient birds." Vince gave a large grin, and Sven couldn’t help but grin back. Apparently this kid was an optimist.

"Yes, I am. It’s wonderful."

"Yeah, definitely a perk of being on an Explorer Team." Might even be worth putting up with weird demographics and deadly ninjas.

They looked around the market a bit more, studying all manner of trinkets and souvenirs, until finally Sven glanced at the time and blinked. "We'd better get back to the ship." He wasn't sure when exactly they were leaving, but it was better to be early back to the ship than risk being late. And if they stayed out here much longer he might go back with whole bags of shiny trinkets he didn't really need.

It wasn’t a long trip, and they wandered slowly back through the docking area, looking with interest at the alien ships around them. Sven was torn, he was almost sad to be leaving the hustle and bustle of the market, but a nap in his quarters after being almost blinded with color sounded lovely. Thinking of his quarters made him think of the statue, and where to put it, and after a moment he had an inspiration.

"Here." He paused and turned to Vince, holding the statue out to him. "I want you to have this."

"What?" Vince stammered, taking a half step back in surprise. "Why?" Oh, real polite, Vince.

Sven smiled, unbothered by the lack of manners. Jace was far less polite even when he was trying to be polite. "I’m not really sure.. I just feel like you should have it." A small smirk crossed his lips. "Maybe it’ll be a good reminder to listen to your mothers' stories."

All Vince could do was laugh, and it took him a few moments to stop himself. "...I mean, um, thank you very much for the gift." Taking it from the navigator he examined it a little closer, running his fingertips along the smooth lines of glossy stone. This really is a cool statue.

"You’re welcome." Sven gave a long exhale. The landing field where the Bolt was parked was coming into view. "This has been fun, it'll be good to rest for a bit before takeoff though. I'm glad you came along."

"Thanks for letting me come." Vince smiled, then something else hit him. He stopped, looking around at the ships, then back towards the market, then back at Sven. Or more to the point, Sven's scruffy chin. And his now-empty hands, since he'd turned the statue over. "Uh… Sven. You didn’t get a razor."

Freezing in his tracks, Sven turned back around and just stared at him for a moment. He looked at his hands himself as if to confirm it… no. Definitely no razor. "DARNIT!"

Vince giggled at the rare outburst. Which caused Sven to glare at him, but the glare quickly faded as the navigator realized he wasn't all that mad. It really is kind of funny. Shaking his head, he submitted to the inevitable, and just started walking back to the ship. Scruff it was.

*****

Sunwing Roost was the nearest real city to the spaceport. They'd gotten directions at the spaceport from a Terinian Portguard, and transportation on a cart driven by a dour male Bataxi. They were headed for something called 'the Kurcuri'. It had taken a few tries to get across to the Portguard what they were looking for, but apparently a Kurcuri was a sort of military college. Hopefully it would give them what they needed.

It took maybe twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the Roost, and with a thanks to the Bataxi they disembarked from the cart. "Now, you had all better be on your best behavior." Keith eyed his team suspiciously. All three of them, really. Maybe Lance most of all.

Not that Lance cared. "Yeah, kids. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." In place of his usual jacket, he was wearing the most eye-searing shirt in Hunk's collection. Personally he thought he was really rocking the hot pink flamingos and random fruit.

Daniel eyed them both skeptically, then turned back to look at the Roost. It was an odd mix of simple wooden huts and large, arching stone structures. And birds. He tried half-successfully to suppress a shudder as a bright yellow Terinian passed them. "Fucking birds…"

"They're pretty nice, you know." Lance gave him a slight push as they started down the street.

"They're creepy."

A stunning male Terinian with iridescent blue wings took to the sky not far away, and he watched with appreciation. "I think they're hot."

"Stop whining, brat boy." Cam was watching for the landmarks they'd been given; he needed to focus. He also needed to not pass up an opportunity to call Daniel a brat, naturally.

Daniel ignored him, looking up at Lance with a raised eyebrow. "I think thinking that way is a good way to get your eyes pecked out."

That got him a laugh and a warm squeeze of his shoulder. "Risk is what makes things interesting, kid!"

In most other circumstances, Daniel would've agreed with that, too. These were not normal circumstances. "Not when it comes to birds, Lancey-pants. Not birds."

Someone up ahead snorted. If he didn't know better, he'd have said it was Keith… nah, no way. Their pilot snorted too, then his hazel eyes narrowed threateningly. "I never want to hear Lancey-pants out of your mouth again."

Smirk. "Or what?" This was way better than worrying about creepy birds.

Lance just pushed a sparkly pineapple aside and tapped one of his guns. "You'd never see it coming."

He did make a convincing argument there; Daniel laughed. "Fine, no more Lancey-pants. I'll just have to think of something else to call y—" Distracting himself had worked a little too well, and his words gave way to a shriek as he nearly ran into a neon purple Terinian.

"Whoa!" Lance grabbed him, then grinned brightly at the Terinian. "Sorry, he's not planet trained…"

It didn't seem like the Terinian spoke Common, but his tone was probably clear enough. She gave an amused chirp and rustled her wings before continuing on her way. Daniel didn't stop wincing until she was well past.

"Dude," Cam scolded, "don't hurt the locals."

"What about them hurting me?!"

"Oh come on, she was friendly. I told you they were." Lance grinned and clapped his shoulder again. "Just stick by me, kid."

Well, his taste was weird, but he had saved him from the one creepy bird. Daniel nodded. "Okay."

Turning a corner, a very different building came into view. Maybe it was multiple buildings, it wasn't easy to tell… either way, the architecture was stunning. Intricately cut wooden panels and swooping stone arches were seamlessly woven together, with what looked like brightly colored gargoyles in a few spots. Then one of those gargoyles spread its wings and took flight, revealing itself to be a Terinian in some kind of dark armor.

"That must be the Kurcuri." Keith paused a moment. They'd been told they wouldn't be able to miss it… this seemed to fit the bill. "Hopefully someone there will be willing and able to help us out."

"Hope so. They're a pretty casual sort of people." Lance frowned. "Where do you think we need to go, precisely? Doubt they have a Voltron office."

"A professor of history, I think. Get some information on those ruins and the battle that was fought there." He shook his head. "They have to know something. Let's move. Brennan, try not to get us in trouble with the locals."

Daniel scowled, trying to hide behind Lance without looking like he was hiding behind Lance. "You're the one that made me come!" Keith ignored him, and a passing Terinian chirping in approval at Lance's shirt sent him scurrying for cover.

Their directions had been to the administrative building, or at least the administrative section—it was still hard to figure out if the complex was all one building. Either way, they headed up a ramp and in the doorway, where a mass of white feathers was sitting in a small nest behind a desk. As they approached the Terinian drew its wings back to reveal its face, peering at them curiously.

"Excuse us." Keith bowed his head slightly. "We'd like some information?"

The Terinian at the desk considered that for a moment, then turned and gave a stuttering series of chirps and whistles. A small bright green one emerged from a doorway and gave a commanding squawk, motioning for them to follow.

Considering their last visit, Lance was a little surprised at how many of the locals here didn't speak Common. Maybe only those closest to the spaceport bothered to learn it. Seemed reasonable enough. Those here apparently learned other things, like cleanliness—the facility was spotless, a sharp contrast to Ioan's messy and disgusting hut, and he was more than a little relieved.

"I'd love to learn their language," Cam whispered as they passed a small group. They seemed to be deep in a melodic conversation, though a few paused long enough to chirp at Lance as they went by. "It sounds so cool."

"I was told I needed to sing if I really wanted to court one of them," Lance offered.

"Sing?" Daniel repeated skeptically.

"Yeah, think they like 1980's pop-rock?"

Cam blinked. He didn't even know if he liked 1980's pop-rock. "Well, I don't think I want to court them… just speak to them?"

Shrug. "You're our communications officer, maybe we can find you some books on it?"

Just then they reached where they were going, their guide indicating a door and stepping back. A large Terinian with glossy red feathers was sitting at a desk. She rose quickly, nodding to their guide and beckoning them forward. "Come in, Earthlings. I am Skyguard Ruxandra, the Common English interpreter and liaison. How may I assist you?"

Now they were getting somewhere. Keith smiled, bowing his head again. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm Commander Keith Kogane, these are some of my crew. We'd like to speak to a professor of history, if possible? We have some questions about your planet."

Ruxandra paused, ruffling her wings in thought. "What sort of questions? We haven't such a thing as a 'professor of history' here, but if I know what you seek I can take you to the correct expert."

"This should be good," Lance muttered under his breath. Both the kids gave small nods of agreement.

Despite his crew's doubts, Keith had been ready for the question. They would have to explain it to someone eventually. "Well, we'd heard of some ruins in the mountains, and something about beasts from the sky?"

The Skyguard's silvery eyes sharpened, focusing on him much more carefully. "The Vanquished Nest? May I ask what brings Earthlings here with questions about that?"

"The Vanquished Nest?" Lance repeated. "Now that's a fucking cool name." He was trying not to think about what the name actually meant.

Daniel couldn't help it. "I still think Lancey-pants is a pretty cool name." Shut up! He's protecting you from the birds!

Fortunately, the pilot just laughed. "At your own risk, kid."

Keith had studiously ignored the whole exchange; he was getting pretty good at it by now. "We're mapping this region of space," he explained, "and are just worried about any possible dangers for travelers and such. If these… beasts are still in the area, they could pose a threat."

She gave an odd, subdued chirp. "They are no threat to travelers… those of good intentions, anyway."

"Really?" That seemed like a very concrete statement, compared to the ancient warning on the walls. "Could you tell us about what they are or anything?" He noted Daniel giving him a very skeptical look, but ignored that too.

"There are no scholars here who can help you with the beasts from the sky. No more than any others. They are legend, the reason this facility exists… come with me."

Apparently they were going to spend a lot of time following birds around today. Well, if it helped. They followed her through a few more hallways, then stepped out into a courtyard. It was bright and green, but the mountains and the overcast were just visible in the distance. The Skyguard stopped, looking up at the mountains, singing something soft and haunting. Keith couldn't help a shiver—Cam, on the other hand, was fascinated.

So cool…

"Our people fear the cold," Ruxandra said abruptly. "We once built great nests in the mountains to survive the winters."

"The cold does suck," Daniel mumbled, and Lance nodded in agreement.

"Long ago, fire rained from the sky over the Coldflight Nest. Our oracles took up their ceremonial arms and attempted to fight what seemed, at the time, to be mountains of steel." She wrapped her wings around herself, eyes still on the distant clouds. "We now know them to have been warships, of course. The oracles hadn't a chance. But as they died, the beasts appeared."

It sounds like a myth. Lance looked up at the clouds. But then, so does Voltron. Maybe that meant they were on the right track after all.

Keith was thinking the same thing. "The beasts… how many of them were there?"

"Four or five. The reports conflict." Ruxandra lowered her wings and shrugged. "Our people were mostly concerned with fleeing."

"Smart of them."

"Understandable." Keith nodded. "Do the… reports tell of anything else? What the beasts looked like? We'd like to know as much as possible."

She shook her head. "When one of them emerged from the clouds, it brought the lightning with it, and chased the attacking ships back for the other beasts to tear apart. It's said they roared fiercely enough that the mountain viermâţă trembled, and were as bright as the most beautiful plumage. But there were only glimpses."

"Bright red?" Lance muttered before he could stop himself. The Skyguard didn't seem to hear him, but Keith did. He'd been thinking the same thing.

"Their… plumage. Were there any specific colors?"

Now she gave him another curious look, and he flinched. Maybe that had been a bit much… but then she seemed to accept it. "Your mapping investigation must be very thorough, I see. The grand beast of lightning was blacker than space. Otherwise, the reports again conflict."

Lightning. Black. Keith shivered, exchanging looks with Lance; Daniel eyed both of them oddly and was summarily ignored again.

"What about red?" Lance had never been accused of quitting while he was ahead. "Was one of them red?"

"The most commonly accepted of the records says yes." Ruxandra pulled her wings around herself again, singing softly. "Five roars in the clouds. Black as space, gold as sun, red as blood, blue as sea. The fifth beast unseen, but its voice sings of death."

"Death singing." Daniel grimaced. "Sounds pleasant."

"What happened after they arrived?" Cam asked softly. "They destroyed the enemy ships?"

"Destroyed, or forced away. They vanished back into the clouds, but their roars took much longer to fade." She started walking again, heading for the center of the courtyard. They followed. "The Vanquished Nest was evacuated, but the few surviving oracles left offerings of gratitude. Which is how we know the beasts returned… when the oracles visited again, the offerings were gone."

Now they might really be getting somewhere. "Gone?"

Ruxandra nodded. She was leading them to a sort of pedestal, covered in feather patterns and colorful stones. Something was burning behind reinforced glass at its peak, a soft blue-white light. The team exchanged startled glances. It was a weapon. Its design was alien, but it was clearly some sort of plasma torch combined with a blade. "Gone. And this was in their place."

"Wow…" Even Daniel was intrigued now, staring at the flickering flame.

"We took their gift and learned to defend ourselves." She drew something from over her shoulder; a modified version of the blade torch. "That is when we stopped hiding in the mountains from the cold, and began training Skyguards. All our soldiers know the legend. But the beasts have never returned."

Keith couldn't take his eyes off the pedestal. It wasn't much, but it was something. Some concrete proof that the 'beasts' had existed. It had to be the Voltron weapon… he wondered where small arms, a blade no less, fit into a weapon that could destroy mile-long monstrosities. But they could figure that out when they found it.

Suddenly, finding it didn't seem quite so impossible.

"That's… an incredible story, Skyguard. Thank you."

She nodded, then tilted her head. "That is all I can tell you from the most common legend, but as I said, the reports did vary. There is a full repository… it is in our ancient tongue, but I could provide you with a copy and some translation resources if you feel it would help you."

He blinked. Just like that? The question wanted to come out, but he silenced it. The Terinians did seem like an accommodating people, and somehow he doubted everyone they met on this mission would be so helpful. Best to take advantage where they could. So instead he glanced over at Cam, who was trying and failing to contain his excitement. "Do you really want to learn their language? Sounds like it could be a challenge."

Grin. "I like challenges, sir."

Nodding, he turned back to the Skyguard. "Yes, ma'am. We would be most appreciative."

She looked to Cam with some interest, nodding herself and rustling her wings. "We have the capability to convert our records to your Alliance's standard data format, but it will take some time. If you tell me your ship—you've come from the port, I'm sure?—I'll send it with a courier."

Perfect. More perfect than they could have hoped, really. "We are in the port. Jupiter's Bolt, slot 3-C on field two. Thank you so much for your time, ma'am."

"I hope the information will aid you." Ruxandra clasped her talons in front of her chest, and spread her wings high, the tips touching over her head. Daniel yelped and jumped back a step. Keith, though, was pretty sure he could recognize the solemnity of a military salute when he saw it. He returned the salute, even if the human variant was less impressive-looking, and followed as she started to lead them out of the courtyard. Then she paused a moment and turned back to Lance. "And, may I compliment you on your fine plumage?"

A huge grin spread over Lance's face. "I wore it especially. Thank you."

Keith chuckled. "Yes, he is exceptionally… bright, isn't he?"

"Not the word I'd use," Daniel muttered.

Lance ignored that, winking at Keith instead. "Aww boss, I didn't think you noticed."

Oh, here it went. "Don't let it go to your head," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Your ego is big enough already."

"Yeah, I am awesome."

Mercifully they reached the exit right then, though Ruxandra was chirping in amusement. Keith shook his head and saluted one more time. "Thank you again for your time, ma'am. Come on," he gathered his team with a mild glower, "let's get moving."

"See?" Lance nudged Daniel as they headed out into the street. "Not all birds are bad."

"Yeah, I guess." Daniel smiled weakly. He wasn't convinced, but he supposed they had survived. "Your… plumage seemed to keep them pretty happy."

Smirk. "It's just one of my specialties, kid. So boss, we've gotta go find the door to door saleslizard with the golf cart again?"

Keith groaned. "Can we please not call them that, anymore? But yes. Let's get back to the ship."

*****

Something had been running through the ship since they came inbound to Terina. A decided unease among the veterans of the team. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on, and the briefing had solidified it—they were anticipating trouble with the inspection.

Well, Pidge had wanted to watch the inspection anyway. He'd doubted the Lieutenant Commander would agree to his presence, though… and couldn't really blame him for it. Besides, much like Garrett's explosives, what his superior officer didn't know couldn't hurt either of them. No problem. He was a ninja. So he'd been silently shadowing the inspection, his chameleon suit's stealth mode engaged, ready to intervene at the first hint of trouble.

The Portguard, a diamond-white Terinian named Liandri, had greeted the ship itself as if it were an honored guest. He found her far more impressive than the scurrying Bataxi who kept trying to trip over him. Not that his opinion had any bearing on the matter—Flynn was keeping a very sharp eye on the reptilian inspectors. But there hadn't been any incidents.

He was more than a little relieved as the group headed off the ship. Nothing had gone wrong, no intervention had been necessary, nobody had to know he'd ever been here. That relief lasted just about until he turned back to the elevator by the forward airlock. Which opened without his input. Not even Pidge could get out of the way fast enough—there wasn't really anywhere to dodge in the cramped entry corridor—especially not when the person who barreled off the elevator practically filled it.

Calling what ensued a 'scuffle' would have been generous, but in any case the collision ended with Garrett on his back and Pidge crouched on his chest. The huge man didn't seem the slightest bit concerned with the ninja who'd appeared out of nowhere trying to pin him. The knife the ninja was clutching? That he seemed a lot more concerned about.

"Dude! Put that thing away before you hurt someone!"

Oh, sure, that was the problem here. "Me?" he hissed. "What about you tackling me?"

Blink. "You were invisible!"

…So he had been. Sighing, he sheathed the knife as his adrenaline crashed, but didn't move. "You aren't supposed to be here." He was quite certain the big oaf had been ordered to stay in his quarters during the inspection.

"Inspection was over, yeah? I was keepin' tabs over the comms. And I needed somethin' out of cold storage." Garrett shrugged, as best one could shrug while flat on his back. "Can you get off me so I don't hafta just dump you?"

"Whatever." He rolled to the floor with a scowl. "Get up."

"Sure?" The other engineer stood up, eyeing him warily. "Uh, but seriously, sorry about the tackling. Didn't see you. Invisible and all. You okay?"

"I'm fine." Or at least he would be fine when this conversation was over. "Go get your cold storage and get out of my—"

"—Cevete, I walk off this ship for two minutes…!"

Both of them jumped. Flynn was standing in the airlock with his arms crossed, glowering. Pidge flinched back, mentally cursing; Hunk just grimaced. "Uh, hey pit boss! It was definitely more like five."

"That's not entirely an argument in your favor. Pidge, lay off the knife." The ninja blinked and dropped his hand from his sheath. "You come with me. Hunk, we'll talk later."

Gulp. "Uh, yeah, okay. Later, pit boss! Later, ninja!" He disappeared into the cargo corridors faster than anyone that big had any right to move.

Flynn walked into the elevator, but didn't activate it, just leaning against the wall and watching Pidge sharply. He seemed resigned. That seemed to happen a lot with him. "Misunderstanding, I trust?"

"Yessir." Sigh. "I was observing the inspection. The Commander made it sound like he expected trouble. Garrett came off the elevator and ran over me, it went poorly."

"You were what?" Flynn repeated, the altercation briefly forgotten. "How?" Admittedly he'd been spending much of his effort on making sure no Bataxi slipped away from the group to scan any unknown hydraulic leaks. But clearly he hadn't been doing a good job of tracking things at all, if he'd missed an entire Baltan…

"Like this." He pulled up his hood, and in a slight shimmer, he vanished.

…Ninja. Right. "Okay, if you could never do that again unless you're told, that would be ideal."

"Yessir." He faded back into view. "Is that all?"

"Certainly not." It wasn't really Pidge observing the inspection that worried him, though that proactivity thing was going to get annoying really quick. Some other things were already annoying. "Have you considered, when you notice it's a misunderstanding, just walking away? Apologizing? Doing literally anything other than escalating the situation?"

At that, he actually looked confused. "I don't try to escalate, sir. It just seems to happen. And I was told just walking away from people was rude."

Really? That's where he draws the line? That raised questions he wasn't nearly brave enough to ask. "Maybe so. But if you can't interact with some semblance of civility, which you clearly can't, it's better if—" Pidge's hand had gone to his knife again, and Flynn frowned. He'd had about enough of the ninja and his knife fetish. "—You know what, give me that."

There was a brief hesitation. And then, to his intense shock, "No."

…No?

Had he just said no?

Not even a no sir?

That was new.

His immediate reflex was to repeat himself, perhaps making it a bit more clear this time that no was not an acceptable answer. But looking at the trapped-animal glint in Pidge's eyes, he hesitated. He still had yet to see the ninja actively threaten anyone. It was a passive threat, no doubt, but…

Maybe…

Flynn didn't look away. He dropped a hand to his holster, pulling his sidearm out and offering it to him by the barrel. "Trade you."

Now Pidge looked as shocked as Flynn had been a few moments before. "Sir?"

"Take it. Give me the knife." Pidge's file indicated he could hardly handle guns in general, and this one was pretty damn unwieldy. If he accepted it, that would tell him something. If he didn't… well, that would tell him something else.

Quietly, slowly, Pidge nodded. He flipped the knife around, handed it over, and took the pistol in both hands. For a few moments he seemed content to examine it. Flynn found himself doing the same with the knife… the blade he'd previously assumed to be black steel was actually the slightest bit translucent, and the serrated edge was visibly chipped and faceted into shape. Obsidian? But obsidian was much too brittle to be used in modern weaponry. The hilt was wrapped in iridescent blue-black cord, not wholly unlike the stealth suit he was wearing. This was clearly not a weapon from Earth.

"It's called a taisseli. Shard knife." He startled a little; Pidge was looking up at him again. "Every Shinori creates one early on in military training."

Do they really. He looked at the knife again, newly intrigued. "You made this?"

"Yessir. It's an old tradition. To teach warriors to respect their weapons, and those who create them… from back when not everyone was trained for combat."

Even more interesting, and not just what he'd said. The fact that he was saying it at all was fascinating. Flynn seized on it—if the ninja was suddenly discovering that semblance of civility, he couldn't afford to pass it up. "It's beautiful," he said truthfully. "What's it made of?"

"Obsidian." Perhaps reading his surprise, or perhaps just into the subject now, Pidge answered his next question before he could ask it. "While your people were creating new materials, mine were perfecting what they had first."

That did sound appropriate, somehow. He ran a finger cautiously along the blade; it scratched the surface of his skin with the slightest contact. He wasn't a knife person, himself. But he could appreciate the craftsmanship, the efficiency. Just as usual it raised a new question.

Why tell me any of that?

Pidge was watching him expressionlessly. He was still holding the pistol in both hands, with something that was almost reverence. Did he understand why Flynn had given it to him? Or was he just being, well, Pidge?

Either way… maybe he could use this little glimmer of understanding. Worth a try.

"That," he said with a small grin, indicating the gun, "is called a Desert Eagle. I didn't make it, but I did repair it from not much but a beat up base frame."

"Desert Eagle," Pidge repeated, tilting his head. "Did you name it? I didn't think humans named their weapons."

Hmm. Did Baltans name their weapons? Perhaps that was a question for later. "No, it's just the model name. I liked it, though. I grew up in a desert, it's where I felt comfortable." He laughed softly. "I'm sure you'll find this silly, but it felt… right, somehow."

"I don't think it's silly." Pidge turned the gun over in his hands again. "It's good to feel connected to your weapons. To think of them as something more than just tools. It shows respect."

Respect. Maybe so. Flynn studied him carefully, considering all he'd just learned, then decided to take a shot. "What if I asked you to treat your teammates with the same kind of respect you treat your weapons?"

Almost immediately, Pidge's right hand dropped to his sheath. His empty sheath. He knew it was empty, he was staring right at his own knife in Flynn's hand. But the reflex was there regardless… the ninja flinched as soon as he realized the issue, but he didn't back down. "In my experience, sir, people are much less worthy of that respect."

…People? Not teammates, not even humans… but people. He took that in for a moment, then pointedly lowered his gaze to the empty sheath.

Pidge flinched again. And Flynn was pretty certain that answered his question.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked softly.

Immediately Pidge's eyes narrowed, going back to that trapped look from before, and his hand tightened on the sheath. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"I'm sure you don't." He looked at the knife again. "So you should be able to tone this down, right?"

"…Yessir."

We'll see. He handed the knife back, and Pidge seemed to visibly calm as he accepted it and returned the gun. Flynn holstered it and studied him for a moment. He felt like he should say something supportive or reassuring here, but he had no doubt it would be poorly received…

"I knew it wasn't loaded, sir."

His jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"It was a nice gesture. Mechaiska." He turned away. "I'm not afraid of you."

…Okay, so he'd known exactly what was going on there. But he'd still gone along with it. Was that significant? It had to be significant. Flynn closed his eyes for a moment, wishing for just a little bit more insight that could make some of this, any of this, make some sense. But maybe it was a start. "I'm glad to hear that, anyway."

"Is there anything else, sir?"

Plenty. "Not on that topic. I know you'll try to do better." He hit the elevator controls, and it started lurching up to the main deck. "You're on shift in twenty. I want full diagnostics on engine three, sounded like it had a dampening coil out when we landed. I'd rather not crack it open without confirmation."

"Roger that." Pidge slipped out of the elevator and vanished the moment it stopped, and Flynn looked after him as if, if he just stared hard enough, it could give him the answers he needed.

Who are you? Why are you like this? What do I have to do to fix you?

That last thought made him wince. He had definitely not signed up for fixing grumpy ninjas. But it was looking like he might not have a choice.

*****

Romelle was sore. Very sore. It turned out she had not been prepared for sex at all, let alone with a powerful Drule prince who seemed quite accustomed to the process. Mentally, she could remind herself of her duty, force herself to endure, accept the indignity and the violation. For Pollux. Physically, well… it turned out she could only handle so many nights of him before the bruises became too much. Last night, a cry of pain had finally escaped.

She'd been mortified. So had he.

Lotor had apologized profusely for being too rough, then assured her that Korrinoth would strengthen her in time. He said it like she was supposed to be encouraged. For the moment, though, he'd offered to give her some time to recover. His father had tasks for him, anyway. Kalindra was at her service, and whatever she desired would be hers.

What Romelle desired was to go home and never look back. That, she knew, was not included in the offer. So the next best thing seemed to be trying to learn. If she could find something, anything, in Drule culture that she could connect with, perhaps her duty would become more bearable…

"Princess, are you ready?"

She smiled slightly at the voice; her handmaiden's company was always pleasant, at least. "Yes, please come in, Kalindra."

The young woman entered, bowing low. "I've secured the Royal Sacellum for the afternoon. It honors me that you trust my judgment in this matter, and I believe learning of our gods would be the best place to start." She straightened. "His Highness has duties to perform for his father, but he hopes to find a moment to join us."

It would be quite alright with Romelle if he didn't, but of course she couldn't say so, so she simply put it aside and smiled. "Thank you. I'm eager to learn." That was completely true, at least. "What is the Royal Sacellum?"

"A place of worship." Gesturing for her to follow, Kalindra headed out into the corridors. "You will find little organized religion here, outside the conclaves of witches and priests. The sacellums are for worshippers to commune with the gods privately."

"Oh! It sounds like a lovely and quiet place."

"Indeed. The Royal Sacellum is always the most quiet in any case, but I thought you'd be most comfortable if we could be certain not to be disturbed."

Romelle wouldn't have even thought of that, but she certainly agreed with it. "I think so, thank you. I appreciate the effort you've put into this."

Smiling, her handmaiden guided her down a few more corridors, to a door with a curious sixteen-pointed sigil carved into it. There were tables on either side of the door, two bowls filled with branches of red and white blossoms. Kalindra took one of the branches and looked back to her. "Anshiru blossoms. They are placed by the shrines as an honor. Take one if you wish, though it is understandable if you aren't comfortable doing so."

Was she comfortable doing so? She'd certainly done far less comfortable things since she came here… "I think I should," she said softly, picking out a branch. "Perhaps I should honor them all, the first time I meet them. And maybe one will resonate with me?" That was her ultimate hope here, wasn't it?

Kalindra looked pleased, in any case. "If you feel that is correct, I'm sure it will be appreciated."

"I hope so." Steeling herself, wondering what to expect from a Drule place of worship, she stepped back and let the other woman open the door.

Light and color spilled out over them.

Romelle gasped softly, stepping into the room and looking around in awe. The sight was overwhelming. It was a circular chamber lit by torches in a spectrum of colors: blue by the doors, and gradually going through the whole rainbow as they ran around the circle. Lit by the colorful flames, exquisite statues lined the walls. Fifteen, maybe sixteen, if her quick count was correct. They were carved of some swirled gray and white stone, polished to a gemlike sheen, and swathed with delicate banners of gauze. Whatever she'd expected, this had not been it.

"This is beautiful," she whispered.

"It is, isn't it?" Kalindra's voice had become soft as well, perhaps in reverence. "All the Drule Supremacy worships the same Sixteen Domains. But different kingdoms emphasize different deities. I know this must be a lot to take in… we can begin with just those the Ninth is most closely bound to, if you wish."

Still overwhelmed, trying to look at everything at once, Romelle just nodded for a few moments before finding her voice. "Yes, that… that sounds like the best way to start."

They crossed the room, stopping before a statue lit by pink and purple torches. It was a hooded figure holding a sceptre, wearing heavy robes and a royal cloak; every thread of the cloak's fur lining was painstakingly carved into the stone. Kalindra bowed low to the statue, setting her branch at its feet among a few other branches and blossoms. The gesture snapped Romelle out of her awe, and she carefully detached one of the blossoms from her branch to set down as well.

"Kus'da, the God of Authority," Kalindra named it as she straightened. "Both monarchs and slaves bow equally before him, as do all in between… he watches over the social order that keeps society from crumbling." She touched one of the banners draped over his sceptre. "Each banner represents a subordinate deity of his Domain."

Bowing her head to the statue, Romelle sorted over those words in her mind. "Kus'da," she repeated slowly, earning an encouraging nod. "God of Authority." She considered asking for more information about his subordinates, but decided against it—she was going to have plenty to try to absorb today as it was.

"Some consider him the patron of the entire Supremacy. That isn't entirely true, but he is the one god all ten kingdoms revere equally."

That made sense, she thought. "Social order is important." Her eyes went to the fur again. "Your artisans are… amazing. This sculpture is lovely."

"That is something our kingdom prides itself on, Princess." Seemingly inspired to action by the comment, Kalindra led her back across the room. "What sort of arts do you have on Pollux?"

Nothing like this. "We have music, sculpting, painting." Trying to think of more to say she realized by now she largely tuned such things out. "I'd say it isn't anything special… I suppose one's own art forms start to seem old after awhile. Seeing other cultures' is refreshing."

"That is understandable." They stopped in front of another statue, this one framed by turquoise torches, though she didn't explain it immediately. "I'd be curious to see some Polluxian art someday. Your gowns are very unusual."

Heat rushed to Romelle's cheeks. "I'm sure it could be arranged. Your… gowns are very unusual to me, also. Does it get hot here? Is that why they are so… light?" Now that was a display of tact even your father would appreciate.

"Quite the opposite." Kalindra shook her head. "Korrinoth is a cold world by most standards, but we are well adapted to it. We show strength by not hiding from the elements."

"Oh, I see." She didn't entirely see. But she didn't really care to go further with it, either. So she looked up at the statue they'd arrived at: a woman with a remarkable number of banners looped around her four arms, each of which held a tool of some sort. Her simple tunic even had stains carefully carved in. "Who is this one?" she asked softly, setting a blossom at her feet. "So many in her… Domain?"

"Yes." Another encouraging smile. "This is Graxinal, the Goddess of the Arts. She has the largest of all Domains—what limits can there be to creative pursuits?"

"Graxinal…" Romelle was fascinated, and reeling somewhat. She'd never have dreamed these people valued such things. Trying to reconcile such beauty with the Drules' brutality in combat—and the aches deep between her legs—was nearly impossible. She exhaled slowly, looking up at the statue. If she could just see much more of this and much less of Lotor, she might come to enjoy her task. "Fitting that we came to her now."

"I thought you might appreciate it." Kalindra bowed her head to the statue.

"Very much so. Art is a relaxing thing on my world."

"As it is here. Part of why the Sacellums usually have particularly fine works… they are places of respite." The Drule smiled. "You see? There are commonalities to be found."

"There are indeed." Her hopes to find something she could connect with seemed to be going much better than she could've hoped, so far. "And commonalities are what builds excellent relationships. Which one is next?"

In response, Kalindra simply turned to the right. The statue there was a bit of a shock—tattered robes around a swirling vortex in a vaguely humanoid shape. "Thra'nik'ta, the God of Magic. He is rarely invoked alone, as magic is a tool. But it is an important and powerful tool."

Magic? Romelle studied the statue quietly before placing a flower and bowing her head. "Thra'nik'ta." She wasn't sure what else to say to that one. Pollux had no tradition of magic… in fact, much in their history made them suspicious of it. But she was here now, and she would be respectful.

Perhaps sensing her unease, her handmaiden turned away without saying anything further. They crossed back to the statue next to Kus'da, directly across from the doors. The two statues, actually, framed by deep violet torches—a male and female in identical armor, standing back to back as if to fend off enemies. The male was holding a scroll, the female a bloody sword. This was the statue that had thrown Romelle's count off earlier, and she was curious to hear it explained.

It was the female Kalindra indicated first. "Dra'ki'iri is the Goddess of War, specifically the heat of battle. She is more favored in our kingdom than her twin, Dra'sun'iri… the God of War, of strategy and preparation. Both are revered, of course. But the preference of our warriors is to overcome challenges with pure strength and skill."

Placing two flowers and bowing her head, Romelle found herself wondering if she should have brought something to write this all down. "Dra'ki'iri… and… Dra'sun'iri?"

Kalindra nodded, then smiled sympathetically at the look on her face. "It is a great deal at first, I know. Take in what you can. There are only two more that our kingdom considers patrons, but we can stop for now if you wish."

"No, please, let's continue." She returned the smile shyly, deciding to take a chance. "I know I'm not expected to learn everything overnight, but I feel like such an outsider here. I want to learn it all as quickly as I can, so I can be a worthy…" The word consort wouldn't come out. "…part of the kingdom."

For a moment, the other woman rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. And to her surprise, it was comforting—despite the sharp blue nails, and the fangs she bared whenever she smiled. Perhaps she was adapting… "You honor us with your determination to learn, and we will all be proud to call you our princess."

Heat rushed to her cheeks again. "I… thank you, Kalindra. I'm honored, as well."

They moved to another statue, lit in soft shades of green. This one was markedly different than any of the others her guide had yet named, though she'd noticed not all were humanoid. A graceful equine creature with heavy hooves, three branching antlers, and delicate feathery wings reared up before her. What looked almost like small rivers and mountains flowed over its body. "Zonjal, the Beast of Life."

Wow… It was all Romelle could do to find her voice as she bowed and set down a blossom. "Zonjal," she repeated in a hushed tone. "Life. This statue is exquisite." Hesitating a moment, she took care to keep anything that could be mistaken for disrespect from her tone. "A beast?"

Nod. "The primordial beasts are said to have been the first beings, and opened the way for the gods and goddesses to emerge from the ancient mists. Zonjal may have been the first of them all."

That did make sense. It was so much to take in, but at the same time, she knew that connection she was seeking was here. This beauty, this reverence… these illustrations of a whole culture, not just a machine of conquest. And it was only reinforced as they turned to the statue to the left.

The goddess there was beautiful in a way surely only a divine being could be, wearing gem-encrusted armor that glittered in the turquoise torchlight. She had wings too, two pairs of them, one feathery and one batlike. Some kind of small, cute critter Romelle didn't recognize—it reminded her of a furry fish—was held gently in her hands.

"She's… beautiful," she whispered. It was all she could really get out as she bowed deeply to the statue, and set what remained of her flowers at her feet.

"Because she is the grandest aspiration of our people." The voice came from behind them, and Romelle nearly jumped out of her skin. "Kistrial, the Goddess of Honor."

"P—Prince Lotor!" She spun and bowed her head as he approached, Kalindra bowing low next to her. "Hello…"

He smiled at her, kneeling before the statue and placing his own branch at her feet. For a moment he was silent. Then he stood, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "Hello, dear a'kuri. I hope I didn't startle you too badly."

"Only a little," she lied. "Kalindra said you hoped to join us at some point, but I didn't hear you come in." Returning her attention to the statue, she tried to turn the conversation back there. Far more comfortable. "Her name is… Kistrial?"

He nodded. "Kistrial the Pact-Keeper, the Benevolent, the Forbearing. I consider her my patron."

Honor. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she didn't dare. He seemed sincere; he always did. "I think I like her," she said finally, looking over the statue's wings. "Not that all of them aren't admirable, and the artists who created these statues… honor is important to your culture, isn't it?"

Lotor was still holding her hand. "Very. You've seen the dichotomy we live under, have you not? You are here to protect your planet, you know we conquer those who stand in our way. It would be easy to devolve into bloodthirsty savages, without honor and discipline to temper us." He smiled, bowing over her hand. "And honor helps us to find those worthy of alliance rather than conquest."

Worthy. He spoke of that a lot, too. Suddenly it was beginning to make some sense to her. Honor and worth. A race of conquerors, but only of those they found unworthy… a slight chill ran through her. "Thank you, on behalf of all of Pollux. I… I hope we will always be worthy of such honor."

"I am certain you will be." He kissed her forehead, then stepped back; he had a book tucked under his arm, and now held it out to her. "I only have a small break from my tasks, but I brought you a gift. One I think you may well appreciate."

Taking the book, Romelle squinted at the title. Written Drakure was much trickier than spoken. "The Delirious… no, no, that isn't right… the Divine Compendium?"

The prince chuckled. "It is a book of our pantheon. To help you learn more of our gods—and to practice with our written language." She blushed furiously at that, though he seemed to find it perfectly reasonable. "That particular copy was written and illustrated by some of the finest artisans of its time, and has been passed down among the royalty of Korrinoth for centuries."

"Oh!" Now the smile was genuine as she looked up at him. That did sound fascinating. "Thank you, Your Highness. I very much look forward to reading this."

"Shall I show you to the sitting room in my wing, before I return to my father? You may enjoy reading there."

Another wave of heat rushed to her cheeks as she nodded. This was fine. Moments like this she could deal with, to perhaps endure the rest. For Pollux… for honor. "I would like that very much."