(On the Hunt) Chapter 13

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 13

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

The first order of business upon returning to the ship had been to look up Ondari. It was, in fact, on the Alliance's maps… in the middle of the Fourth Kingdom Incursion Zone, nowhere near Zyris or anything else. Which officially shot down their last hint of a lead from Takrekul. Onward to Khoru it was.

Daniel was lying on a couch in the upper rec room, playing a game on his datapad, to escape Cam practicing his Terinian. They had a pretty good system at this point: Cam wouldn't practice while Daniel was in the room, and Daniel would avoid their room for at least a couple hours a day to let him practice. He was fully focused on the video game in front of him when Lance poked his head into the room.

Lance was really looking for Flynn, but seeing Daniel made him pause. Things had been a bit strained and awkward ever since Daniel's big blow up—which was still baffling Lance. He watched him for a second and decided to see if he could make some headway. He liked the kid, he'd rather it not be awkward.

"Hey, kid, what are you up to?"

"Playing a video game." Daniel said, glancing up for a second before focusing back on his game. He was pointedly ignoring the small dash of shame Lance's presence brought out. The game didn't make him feel guilty and awkward, better to fixate on that.

"What's the objective?" Lance moved around the couch so he could look over his shoulder.

Daniel lifted the screen closer for him to see. "It's a racing game, but every time you knock an opponent off the course you get extra points."

"How many have you knocked off course?" Lance asked, biding his time and looking for an opening. The last thing he wanted to do was set him off again.

"Four…" Daniel knocked a car off the course. "Five. If I knock the other two racers off I automatically win." He eyed Lance warily. Him being so nice felt weird—Daniel knew he'd been awful to him.

Lance watched the game with interest, noting it wasn't too far off some fighter pilot training he'd been through. It seemed pretty useful to him, though he was sure many Serious People would strongly disagree with him on that. He grinned. "I'm thinking this is the sort of thing you find meditative."

"Yeah. I don't have to think, I can just play," Daniel said with a small grin.

"I get that when I fly, or at the shooting range…" He hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to the kid.

"I don't really feel it at the shooting range, but definitely when I'm flying." Shooting involved too much thinking to be meditative for Daniel.

That offered a way to lure him in a little more, at least. "Yeah… so I've been thinking I really might try to set up an asteroid field training sim. You'd be into that, right?"

Daniel grinned widely. That would be awesome. "Hell yeah… oh come on!" he moaned as his momentary distraction got him knocked off the race course in his game.

"Yeah, you're gonna fail at the sim too," Lance snickered. "So uh…" He scratched the back of his neck, trying to figure out the right way to bring everything up, and rolled his eyes at himself as he went for the direct approach. "We good, kid?"

That instantly cut short Daniel's attempt to mouth off about not failing at the sim; he felt ashamed and awkward all over again. He blushed and looked away, feeling like he should have seen that coming. "I… uh… yeah." That was real convincing.

Unsurprisingly, Lance didn't buy it either. "Just that… well, honestly, I'm kind of fucking baffled about it all? I'd like us to be good. So, if there is anything you need to speak up about, you're free to. I mean it's me here, not Kogane."

Another sharp of guilt crashed over Daniel, and he distracted himself with his datapad for a minute as he gathered his energy to do what needed to be done. But it was a struggle. Apologies and explanations weren't something that came easy to him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and started bouncing his legs nervously.

That was the last thing Lance had expected. His eyes widened for a moment; he quickly schooled his features, but Daniel hadn't actually noticed, because he couldn't even look at him. The pilot struggled for what to say. "That's great, I accept… but, uh, for what exactly?"

"For being a jerk." Daniel still couldn't look at him. He knew what came next, and he knew he couldn't explain that he was scared without sounding like some little kid.

"Alright… you were a jerk, all is forgiven, just… would like to avoid it happening again, so was there a reason why?" Lance swallowed a frustrated sigh. He felt like he was treading deep water; he'd never been in this position before, and he was sure he was sucking at it.

Growling to himself, Daniel jerked his head up to look at Lance. Just spit it out already! "It wasn't supposed to go like that! It was supposed to be a…" He paused for a second, trying to come up with the right words. "…A preemptive strike!" That worked. "Which failed! Miserably!" He winced a bit, realizing how loud he'd gotten, then fell into a bit of pout. "Because you're weird."

Lance found himself totally thrown again. Shaking his head, he tried to find words, but he wasn't quite processing what Daniel had said… and was gradually realizing that for what had to be the first time in his entire life, he'd been rendered speechless. That was new and he didn't like it. "Preemptive strike?" he asked finally, hoping it was a good start.

"Yeah. It didn't really work out. You're still…" Daniel awkwardly gestured between them. "Doing this…" Could the awkward swirling around them could get any more suffocating? He still didn't understand why Lance kept being so nice to him. "And I was being a complete asshole, and you didn't even yell. So weird." Daniel paused as something occurred to him. "What kind of superior officer doesn't blow a gasket when one of their subordinates is out of line?" It just didn't make sense to him.

You'd be surprised. "You wanted to piss me off?"

"Yeah."

"Well fuck, you've gotta try harder than that. I mean I know technically I'm a superior officer or whatever, but I don't give a crap about that bullshit. Probably why I'm here…" He shook his head, trailing off that track. "Why, though? Why did you want me get mad at you?"

Suddenly Daniel found himself absolutely offended. "Are you saying my asshole wasn't asshole enough!?" He wasn't yelling, but he was definitely being loud again.

Lance laughed, it was impossible not to, but he had to stay on track. "I'm saying I was confused and frustrated but not mad, and I did yell a little bit, I think? I just didn't get what you were mad about? And well…" Lance sighed and let the truth come out. "I don't want you mad at me, Kid."

"That wasn't yelling, believe me, I know yelling…" Daniel shook his head and decided to just tell the truth, nothing else seemed to work. "And well… you like me right now, but eventually you won't. And that'll suck. So I figured I'd just get it over with, you know?"

That was unsettling to Lance, there were layers there to unpack and it made him worried about the kid, not to mention making him feel like he was back treading deep water all over again. But his gut was telling him to make one thing perfectly clear. "Yeah, no way, kid. You're stuck with me."

Daniel snorted; Lance didn't get it at all. "You say that right now, but happens in a month or in six months when you change your mind? I get screwed. I'm tired of getting screwed. So I decided to screw you first."

"Look, I'm not gonna…" Lance stopped himself from saying screw you and sighed. "I'm not going to promise you something here, cause you won't buy it. But…" He nodded. This angle might work better. "How about if I'm still around in six months, I get to say: I fucking told you so, you're stuck with me. Cause I think I get what may have happened to you before, but I'm not most people." Damn right he wasn't. "I'm… what did you say? Weird."

Daniel eyed him for a bit and wasn't really sure he bought that either, but he also liked it when he and Lance were cool. Maybe he could give this a shot… he smirked. "You are pretty weird."

Lance snorted. "So, we're good."

"Yeah, we're good… I'm really sorry for blowing up on ya."

"I've dealt with worse and all is forgiven." He tapped Daniel's datapad. "Go on, knock cars off the track, seems like good fighting pilot practice to me."

Daniel smirked again. "See, I think so too… my professors didn't agree though."

"Professors are fucking short sighted, kid." The pilot stood up, watching him for another moment. That had gone better than he'd expected. Somehow.

Nodding, Daniel went back to his game, no longer feeling so guilty about everything… and silently hoping Lance would be around in six months.

Lance took one last look at him before leaving the room, promising himself he'd be still around for the kid in six months. It felt important, even if he couldn't fully place why, but he always trusted his gut.

*****

The galley was empty when Cam walked in, which gave him a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because Hunk wasn't there to feed him something insane, relief because the Doc wasn't there so at least nobody would be threatening to stab him. He was perfectly capable of making his own lunch.

If the ingredients would just stop disappearing on him…

"I just opened that jar," he muttered as he dug through the cupboards, "where is it this time?" Every time he opened a new jar of peanut butter on this ship, it seemed to vanish by the next day. He was really about over it. "Damn it…" Sighing, he dug a new jar out of storage and started grumpily slapping a sandwich together. It wasn't that big a deal, he knew… but every day? It was just irritating.

As he finished up and took a quick bite, he turned and nearly jumped out of his skin. Somewhere along the line, he'd stopped being alone. Now there was a ninja in the room. "Um… hi?"

"Yeah," Pidge murmured absently, then blinked. No, that was definitely not the correct response. "Uh, hi." He moved around towards the cupboard Cam had just been in, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn't. Cam had barely spoken to their systems analyst, and he'd heard things, but it all seemed overblown. "How are you?" Can't hurt to try to be friendly, right?

That earned him a slightly pained look. Pidge hated small talk, but at least he knew the correct rote response here. "Fine, you?"

"Not too bad, I suppose. If someone would just stop either hiding the peanut butter or eating it all…"

The ninja looked confused. "There's… no shortage of peanut butter on this ship?" He knew for a fact there was a whole crate of it down in cargo. A very large crate.

Cam knew that too, and sighed. "Yeah, just… it's annoying, you know? Come in off shift to grab something quick to eat, and the jar I just opened is gone. Half the time I find it in the trash."

"Yes, that's where empty jars go."

He couldn't help but grin at that, though he wasn't wholly certain it had been a joke. "Yeah, it is. But really, who uses that much peanut butter in one day?"

Pidge eyed him, unimpressed, then moved on to the cupboard and pulled the open jar out. "People with different dietary requirements than humans."

Even staring right at him, it took Cam a moment for that to fully sink in. "Wait, you mean you…?"

"That's what I said?" Pidge was not aware of any other aliens on this ship. Maybe their comms officer was a bit dense.

"Oh…" Cam blinked slowly. Now that he'd actually encountered the peanut butter thief, he was feeling a bit less eager for confrontation. "That's… a lot of calories and fat…"

"You have low metabolism."

He'd said that very matter-of-factly. He is different from you… well, fair enough, probably. "Well anyway, if you polish off a jar, could you at least be decent enough to put a new one back so the rest of us don't go hunting thinking it just walked off?"

Pidge looked at him blankly. "That isn't my job." In fact he was quite certain he'd heard the doctor yelling at someone for bringing things up out of cargo just a couple of days ago. Something about wanting to keep a handle on the supplies.

Cam stared back at him, equally confused. "Well it's not my job either." Yet somehow he always seemed to be the one opening new jars. "It's just common courtesy."

"It isn't my job," the ninja repeated, a little more emphatically. "It gets replaced."

"Do you… not understand common courtesy?" Cam could not, for the life of him, understand what was so objectionable about being asked to move a jar of peanut butter from one side of the galley to the other. "You empty it, you replace it?"

"Do you not understand delegation of responsibility aboard a starship?" Pidge retorted, muttering something probably impolite in Baltan.

"Yeah, I do understand it. And it applies to everyone, even you." It was all Cam could do not to call him an entitled brat. He was trying to tone that down. He did learn from his mistakes, and this was someone from a whole different culture… but hell if he wasn't acting like one.

Pidge was thinking something similar, really. What part of it isn't my job does this snotty human not understand? His hand had gone to his sheath, though he'd barely noticed. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, jalekya?"

"It means it's no one's actual job to replace things in here! We all do it out of respect for everyone on board."

Scowl. "Your understanding of delegation is incorrect. Don't take it out on me."

Cam scowled right back. Maybe the things he'd heard weren't overblown at all. "Well your…" He bit back his first instinct. "…understanding of respectful courtesy seems to be incorrect, too."

"Manners are inefficient."

That… actually was kind of true, Cam supposed, at least in certain situations. He wasn't too sure this applied. "They may be, but they keep people from getting upset when they're hungry and annoyed."

The ninja's bright green eyes lowered to Cam's sandwich. And the bite he'd already taken from it. "You have your food. Let me eat mine."

"Fine! I'm not stopping you." There was no point going on with this. Frowning, he dropped into a chair and took a large, dramatic bite of his sandwich.

Pidge rolled his eyes and turned away, heading for the door. "Ershakka eshal missen cha nye…"

That didn't sound nice. Cam lowered his sandwich and stood slowly, glaring. "Excuse me?"

Why was he still talking? Wasn't he supposed to be eating his sandwich? "I said humans are stupid," Pidge translated irritably, turning back around and half daring his teammate to argue.

The glare intensified. "Takes stupid to know stupid."

"…Is that an insult? You call each other stupid all the time." Things like this were exactly why he couldn't figure these ridiculous aliens out in the first place.

"You can take it however you see fit. You're even more of a brat than Daniel."

"Don't compare me to him," Pidge snarled, taking a step back. A moment later he became aware his knife was out. Not optimal… but he didn't sheath it, especially when Cam noticed and backed away with wide eyes. Maybe they could finally get this conversation over with. He really just wanted to eat his own lunch in peace.

As they stared warily at each other, the tension was broken by Jace walking in the door, juggling a jar of peanut butter between his hands. He'd long since gotten used to bringing one up after his shift each day. "Hey Starr, hey ninjerk, you better not be making a mess of my…" What he'd actually walked in on became apparent as he looked at Pidge. And his knife. "…Put that the fuck away, I'm the only person sanctioned to do any stabbing on this ship."

Cam breathed a sigh of relief; he'd never imagined he could be so happy to see their grumpy medic. "Hello, Doctor." Pidge, for his part, didn't say anything at all. He just sheathed the knife and vanished out the door with his peanut butter.

Jace turned to Cam and raised an eyebrow. "Que porra?"

The comms officer slowly shook his head. "What the hell just happened?"

"Uh, that's what I just asked you. Since you know, you're the one that was here."

As if that had helped him any. He sank back into his chair and sighed. "I came in to make a sandwich, couldn't find the peanut butter I just opened this morning… again. Apparently he eats the whole damn jar? I just tried to… impress upon him the decency of replacing what he takes…" He trailed off, grimacing. "It didn't go very well."

"Oh, he's the one who's been eating it so fast?" Shrugging, Jace put the jar he'd brought in the cupboard. "Should've known, none of the rest of you keeled over from sugar overload."

"Yeah." Cam rolled his eyes. "Apparently human metabolism is slow."

Jace snorted. "By any objective interstellar average, Baltan metabolism is fast." He pulled a pan out and started mixing things together. "How about you not fuck with the ninjerk, I don't want to have to fix a sucking stab wound in your chest if we can avoid it."

That… sounded like something he'd prefer to avoid too, Cam decided. "I'm not trying to fuck with him," he protested. "Am I wrong for wanting him to have common courtesy? If he takes it he should replace it… or at least get his own jar…" He set his sandwich down and sighed again, suddenly not all that hungry anymore.

"You're asking the wrong fucking person about common courtesy, Starr. Eat your damn sandwich."

Well. That, he supposed, was true. Absently poking his sandwich, he considered the matter… maybe there were better options. There had to be, didn't there?

*****

Hunk tried not to make a habit of being early for his shift. There was just no sense setting that kind of high expectations for himself; all it could do was limit his options later. But every once in awhile didn't hurt. Build up a little good karma for when he lost track of time cooking or rocking out… so it was about ten minutes before actual shift change when he clambered into the bay and looked around.

Vince was on duty. The console that handled the Bolt's cargo manipulator arms had been throwing an intermittent power fault. They didn't use that system for anything—maybe they'd need it when they found this Voltron thing, someday—but leaving power faults in place was just never a good idea. Minor issues had a way of turning into major ones if left unattended. So he was crouched beside the console with his tongue poking slightly between his lips, replacing several old worn-out wires and completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

"Yo, little dude! You want outta here early?"

"Aaah!" The yell snapped Vince out of his zone and into sheer panic. First from being startled, and then from the crack of electricity and the small flames suddenly racing down the wires. "No no noooo, don't blow up…" He leaned forward and tried to blow the flames out, though really, he knew better. A moment later there was a second sharp crack, and he jerked back just in time to avoid the surging electrical fire burning his face.

"Whoa!" Hunk had nearly jumped out of his skin himself. Seeing the flames, he grabbed a fire suppression bomb from the nearest shelf and tossed it into the wiring. The shell cracked open, smothering the fire with a large puff of pressurized argon gas, leaving a faint haze of smoke wreathing the younger engineer. He looked dazed. "You okay? Did the boom get ya?" Grabbing a first aid kit from the same shelf, Hunk approached to check things out.

Vince was still staring at the burnt wiring. "No, no, no, no, no…"

By about the third no it was clear to Hunk that the kid wasn't really talking to him. Should I poke him? No, startling him again seemed like a really bad decision. He edged forward instead. "Viiiinnnnce?"

Blinking, finally looking up at him, Vince recovered from the first wave of panic and launched headlong into a second. This was usually about as many chances as he'd had before being kicked out of a class, and this time it was on an actual mission. "I didn't mean to, I'll be more careful, I promise, it was an accident, I just, could we maybe, could we not tell Flynn?"

"I think he's gonna notice, there's big scorch marks and stuff." Shrug. "Are you okay?"

Of course there were big scorch marks; he groaned. "Yeah I didn't think so, oh god, what do they do with you if you get thrown off an Explorer Team?"

Hunk cocked his head. He remembered wondering something similar once, though admittedly not on his own behalf. "Hell if I know. You're not gonna get tossed for settin' a little fire though. Trust me, we've done way worse." Grinning encouragingly, he set the first aid kit aside; it seemed clear the kid was physically fine. He did seem way more freaked about this accident than the last ones, but then, they were in the middle of space now…

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. "But this is the third time I've… well…" He grimaced, sagging back a little. "Done a Vince."

Aha. Hunk chuckled. "And you fixed the other two up real quick, and this one doesn't look too bad either. Guessin' you were workin' on that fault we picked up earlier, yeah?"

Vince stared at him in confusion. "Uh…? Yeah, I can fix it, I always can, but…"

"…Lemme guess, but you don't usually get the chance."

He sounded remarkably unconcerned. Of course he usually did, he was Hunk. Vince closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath or two and slow down his racing heartbeat. Then he nodded. "Usually there's a lot more yelling. And telling me I have an attitude problem."

"Still not seein' the attitude problem," the big man snorted, "unless they really hate apologies or somethin'. And uh, this one's definitely my fault anyway, yeah?" He grinned again, a little sheepishly. "Kinda figured I made enough noise comin' in, sorry about that."

"I was too hyperfocused, not your fault…" Vince was completely off balance now. He'd have thought he would be happy not to be yelled at, and he was, but he didn't have much experience dealing with anything else. "Usually people think I'm lying when I say I didn't do it on purpose."

"Kinda like knowin' the wiring guy is focused on what he's doing. Both our faults?" Shaking his head, Hunk looked at the mess again. There really were some very impressive scorch marks. "Who the heck thinks you'd do this on purpose? There's way cooler ways you could blow stuff up if you wanted to. I could teach ya some."

"No, nope, I'd rather not explode anything to be honest…" Wince. "But that doesn't work out for more than a few weeks at a time."

"Well you've gotta be worth the occasional kabooms if they put you here, yeah? I mean, Explorer Teams get a crazy rep and we deserve every bit of it, but I don't think they'd actually give us someone they thought was gonna blow up our ship." He sat back and frowned slightly. "Hella paperwork."

Even on the trailing edge of panic, Vince couldn't help the snort of laughter at that. "Was hoping not to blow more things up, but… Flynn's not gonna be mad? You sure?"

"Doubt it, as long as it's fixed up. His temper doesn't actually match his hair." Hunk gave him a conspiratorial grin. "Ask him about the time Lance punched him in the face… uh, wait, don't ask him, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about that."

Vince's eyes went wide. "He punched… but they're like best friends!"

"Yeah well, pit boss thought bein' friends meant he'd be the first person who ever calmed someone down by tellin' em to calm down, or somethin' like that. It didn't go so well."

"Huh… I guess all of us are pretty weird?"

"The official phrasing of the unit motto is 'we're a fucking Explorer Team'." The big man chuckled. "Anyway, speakin' of calming down, we should see what we can do about minimizing your unsanctioned kabooms, yeah? You need some zen in your life." Frown. "I'm uh, not the person to help you there."

Truthfully, Vince couldn't help thinking Hunk might be just the person to help him there. Nothing seemed to bother him. Then again, he might have developed that talent from being around a large number of explosions, which didn't sound like fun. "The moms tried to get me to do meditation. But I get anxious I'm not breathing right and it's a whole thing…"

"Well that ain't gonna help you. Talk to Sven, maybe? Nothing rattles that dude."

That was also true, and it probably had less to do with explosions. "Yeah, how does he do that? Maybe I'll ask him sometime." Maybe. He wasn't entirely convinced, but…

"Worth a shot."

…Yeah, that. Sighing, he looked at the mess again. "I'd better start fixing this up."

"Yeah, probably better. Don't worry about the burns on the floor though, they give it character." Hunk winked. "Can I help? Or you got this?"

Vince gave a more than slightly chagrined laugh, looking at the scorch marks. Maybe he'd go with Hunk's point of view here, for his own sanity's sake. "They kind of do give it character, don't they… I've got it, it's just, I was almost finished before."

"Practice makes, uh, practiced!" Hunk hopped up off the floor, grinning. "I'll go wayyyy over here and watch the engine panel, then, and I promise I'll make sure you aren't poking anything before I yell at ya next time "

Watching him, to his own surprise, Vince realized he actually did feel better. At least a bit. He'd feel even better if he could understand how these things kept happening, but… it was a start? "Thanks, Hunk." Exhaling slowly, he turned his focus back to the wiring. Time to get back to work.

*****

Rumors had a way of flying around the Bolt pretty quickly, even with such a small crew manning such a large ship. Rumor currently had it there'd been a little altercation with Grumpy Ninja in the galley. Flynn had mentally translated that to misunderstanding, and he was getting well and truly sick of misunderstandings.

Maybe he ought to try for a little more understanding himself? It could only help. Hopefully. And that was how he found himself in the starboard rec room, pulling the Alliance's diplomatic handbook from the Bolt's database. After all, he was at heart a mechanic.

When all else failed, he read the manual.

Balto was given a mere three pages in Volume 4, which was the last volume to actually deal with Alliance planets. Based on that, he was expecting to read about some fringe backwater. But that wasn't at all what he got.

Shinor, known in English as Balto, is a Class D member planet in good standing. Its civilization is highly advanced and highly isolationist; while always polite and receptive to their allies, the Shinori prefer most of all to be left alone.

"Well," he murmured. "There's a shock."

What's a shock, that they like being left alone or that they're supposed to be polite and receptive?

Moving on…

The Shinori are a small humanoid race primarily known for agility and intellect. They are telepathic (intraspecies, Type 3) and value logic, loyalty, and pragmatism above all. Military service is compulsory, resulting in a populace well trained in a mix of technologically-enhanced martial arts (colloquially termed 'techno-ninjutsu'). In popular imagination, to the extent Balto is popularly known, all Shinori are thus thought to be 'ninja scientists'.

Grumpy Ninja Scientist? Doesn't ring quite right. He returned to the beginning of that paragraph for a moment; the mention of telepathy had jumped out at him. Could that be part of Pidge's problem? Might the silence be getting to him? Flynn tried to imagine suddenly losing the utility of such a thing. Would it just be like learning a new language, or something deeper, like losing one of your senses? But it didn't quite fall together. Wouldn't the silence, the increased isolation, cause someone to reach out rather than withdraw?

Even research was only reinforcing that he really didn't know anything. Which… was distressingly similar to their primary mission. He was getting well and truly sick of that, too.

The rest of the article was fascinating reading, though he doubted the history of the Baltan caste system was going to help him figure Pidge out. Nor was learning that his people had replaced the core of their planet with a massive fusion reactor, though it certainly made him want to visit. But finally at the very end, something that might just be pertinent…

Given the strict conformity of their society, Shinori are notably poor at assimilating to other cultures and rarely leave their own planet. Those who do may not fully reflect the expected conformity. Baltan diplomats and explorers are well trained for outside interaction, and emigrants are typically either exiles or social outcasts.

Exiles or outcasts? He closed his eyes, another word briefly drawn to the front of his mind. Heretics… it seemed like he should be able to work with that, somehow. But Pidge didn't seem receptive to friendliness. Maybe he'd think on it…

Someone knocked lightly on the doorframe. Glancing up, he barely bit back a groan; the other half of the rumored altercation was standing there. Somehow he was certain it wasn't a coincidence. "Starr?"

"Sir." The comms officer saluted respectfully, though his voice held exactly none of that confidence. "I um, I… kinda wanted to talk to you… if you have a minute?"

"I have time." Flynn flipped off his datapad and pushed it aside, waving him in. "What's going on?" Don't say it. Please don't say it.

"It's about Stoker, sir."

Damn it. Well, at least he'd get the details on this misunderstanding, he supposed. "What did he do now?"

"It… it's not even really that big of a deal, maybe?" Cam shifted uncomfortably. Bringing this to a superior officer had seemed like the correct play until he'd started actually trying to explain it. "But… he eats a lot of peanut butter, and well… I was about to make a sandwich, and the jar I'd opened that morning was gone, and it always seems to disappear that fast, and um, I was just wondering…" Oh, this really sounded stupid. "…isthereanywaytogethimtojustopenhisownthingofpeanutbutter?"

Flynn stared at him silently. That was… not nearly as bad as he'd expected it to be. No, maybe that was far worse than he'd expected it to be, for given values of 'worse'. That's all this is about? Really? "Have you tried asking him?" he asked slowly. The urge to say he doesn't bite came and went; he couldn't really promise that.

"I did." Cam shrugged weakly. "He said it wasn't his job. I wasn't mad or anything, I just tried to, you know, convince him to try a little common courtesy, and next thing I knew he had a knife?"

"…And there's the part I was hoping you wouldn't get to." Of course he'd pulled a knife over something this pointless. Maybe he'd been trying to give it a point.

"I never even saw him pull it, I mean, we were in the galley but…"

"He's a ninja." Flynn sighed, exasperated. "Okay, let me see if I'm understanding this correctly. You want me to intervene with my knife-happy subordinate to convince him to… open his own jar of peanut butter. Even though you have plenty of peanut butter, you just don't want to keep opening new jars."

Cam winced. Somehow the chief engineer had made it seem even worse than it had been already. "When you put it that way, it sounds…" He trailed off, hanging his head. This was not a good way to endear himself.

Flynn let the silence hang for just a beat. "Completely ridiculous? Yes. But that's what we do best." He smirked slightly. What was he going to say about it, really? He'd gone on a personal crusade to change their ship's name to something more mythologically accurate. At least this didn't involve paperwork. "I'll talk to him."

That was not what Cam had been expecting, to put it mildly. "You… will?"

"I will. Kid's got to learn manners sooner or later." That, at the least, he was certain of. Though that being said… "You have to do something for me, though."

At that point Cam would have done just about anything, purely out of gratitude for not being laughed out of the room. "Yes sir."

"He's got to learn manners… but it's not your job to teach him." Not really mine either, but that is what it is. "He doesn't react well, as you've seen, and I don't need other people getting on him and making my job harder. Just leave him alone from now on."

And that was possibly the easiest order he'd ever been given; he would be just fine staying as far from the ninja as possible. "Yes, sir. I didn't want to cause any trouble with him. Honestly. I tried my best to keep it respectful, I really did—"

"—I believe you." Flynn eyed him. The kid was eager to be a good soldier, that was for sure. "He just sees things differently. This is for both of your benefits. I don't particularly want you getting stabbed, either."

Once again, Cam wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. "Doc said that too. After he came in and broke it up because he's the only one authorized to stab people."

Flynn couldn't help the laugh. "Of course he did."

Though he was feeling much better about things now, Cam paused another moment before retreating to the door. "Stoker won't be in too much trouble, will he, sir? I'm really not upset, just… puzzled. I don't want him to get in trouble, but I know if anyone knows what to do here it's you…"

It was all Flynn could do not to laugh again. Wish I had that kind of confidence. "He won't be in trouble. I'll just talk to him about manners, alright?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for your time." With another salute, the comms officer scurried away.

Flynn looked after him, then looked back at his datapad and exhaled slowly. What he'd just agreed to was sinking in, and it suddenly seemed just as ridiculous as arguments about peanut butter. "Teach the ninja about manners, I said. Faex, what have I gotten into…"

Flicking the screen back on, he decided to reread the Baltan diplomatic notes. He was going to need all the help he could get.

*****

Alfor was disappointed to be returning to the Castle shelter with nothing much to show in improving the situation of his people. Despite acquiring more weapons, food, and some medicines, his hopes that he would be able to awaken the Lions were feeling half dashed. But he wasn't admitting defeat. Once he settled some matters with his advisors and Allura, he could focus on his notes once more. There were other curious items that he needed to look over.

While his arrival to the shelter was met with quiet celebration, he could clearly see the worry in everyone's faces. Still, he did feel better knowing that those in the shelter were safe. The cavern by the southern tunnel was being used by his advisors as a hub for gathering information; he hoped to speak with them briefly there before resting.

Brief it certainly was, as there was little change in conditions on the surface. A few cities showing resistance to the occupiers had been leveled, their people gathered and taken except for a few who'd gotten deep enough into the tunnels. Resources were getting tight. The one bright spot was that a few more tunnels were being opened, and some passages to the top remained secure, allowing fresh resources to be brought down. After the exchange of information, he decided to withdraw for the moment so he could take in what he learned… and most importantly, to spend some time with Allura.

He found her talking with Coran, poring over lists of supplies and debating ways to replenish some of the more valuable items. Marveling over the maturity she was showing, part of his heart hurt over the fact that she was now having to deal with matters of war. "All the more reason why I must succeed," he whispered to himself as he made his way to them.

If the people had ever had any issue with Allura's impulse to give big hugs to her family, none gave any sign of complaint as she gave her father the biggest hug she had ever given at the first sight of him. "It is good to see you as well, my dear," Alfor said softly to her, then turned to the old knight. "And Coran, it pleases me greatly to see you among us, old friend." Still hugging his daughter, he extended a hand to his advisor with a smile.

"I am pleased as well, to be able to continue being in your service. We were just—"

"—I hope it can wait," Alfor interrupted gently, giving Coran's hand a firm squeeze. "It has been so long and, if you'll forgive me, I would like to indulge in some personal time with just my closest friends and family. I need to take stock of some of my most prized treasures."

Coran smiled and leaned into his best friend's grasp. "Of course. Let's head to your personal chamber, then we can rest for a time there."

Allura resumed her royal manners as she lead her father through a maze of narrow pathways, to the small chamber even most of the refugees knew nothing of. Having a place of the utmost secrecy for the Crown had seemed a necessity when the shelter was built. Early in the journey, Coran helped brush off various other advisors coming to inquire about the progress of matters; soon they had left all of that behind in the labyrinth.

As soon as they reached the private chamber, Alfor collapsed onto the bed.

"Father!" Allura cried out, dropping to his side.

"I'm sorry, Allura." He smiled weakly. "I'm just tired, and worried about so many things. I've not heard anything yet about your brother. The shelter at Falastol is like a maze… I fear he may be in the parts that have not yet been opened up to the bulk of the network."

"Then he is safe," Coran said encouragingly, offering a small glass of wine. Only a small one—such luxuries were dwindling by the day—but surely this moment called for it. "I'm sure his governess will make sure not a hair will be out of place when you are reunited with him."

Nodding in thanks while accepting the glass, Alfor sighed heavily. "Doesn't change the fact that I would rather know that he is well, and able to move about."

"I wish both he and Nanny were here," Allura confessed.

"It might be the best that you two are separated… to increase the odds that our house doesn't fall completely." Alfor grimaced as he spoke. It was the truth, and they had to be realistic, but it ached to be speaking with such pessimism. "I know this battle is hard on you, and very much so for your brother. I promise you, we will get through this. But for now… tell me, how have you been holding up?"

"It's been trying for me. The people are restless, and Larmina… learned that her mother was killed recently." Allura looked down at her feet. "I do try to offer what comfort I can… but I don't think I'm doing the best at it."

Coran nodded. "But she hasn't run completely off, so I wouldn't think you could be asked for anything more."

That was probably true, and Allura didn't really want to spend this precious time with her father feeling sorry for herself. Besides, they had more intriguing news to offer. "Oh… Coran has shared a few of the tales of Lions that he found before… everything happened. There is one we found quite unusual. Perhaps you might have seen something that could explain its strange nature?"

"Oh?" Looking towards Coran, the king raised a curious eyebrow.

"Yes, it's true. Let me read it to you and we can discuss the thoughts we had about it, if you don't mind."

Alfor nodded, settling in to listen. It was the oddest tale, as it turned out… and the debate over it gave him just the distraction from battle that he needed. Distraction, and more than that, hope. Maybe… maybe it could be useful to his search… and bring them one step closer to rising from these tunnels once more.

*****

"A'kuri?"

The voice seemed like it was coming from very far away. Romelle fought to grasp it. She knew the voice, she knew the word, but it felt like she was trying to think through a thick fog.

"A'kuri, are you alright?"

Where was she? It was warm, and not uncomfortable, though she was sore in several places. How had she gotten here? For that matter, why wasn't this confusion worrying her more? She felt far away, but not unsafe. Perhaps they were related…

A hand touched her cheek, and she blinked. Prince Lotor… Reality slowly broke over her, though there was still only a strange haze where she'd been. Had they had sex? They must have. Had she agreed to it? She didn't even remember coming into his room… no, there it was. She'd been reading, he'd come to talk to her, she'd followed him here, and…

Nothing?

Maybe she could force the issue. Maybe she could clear the fog. But did she really want to, even if she could? No. No she did not. So she exhaled slowly and looked up into the prince's golden eyes, flailing for an excuse. "I… I'm sorry, Prince Lotor. I was just a bit… overwhelmed by… enjoyment." She wondered if her smile looked as painful as it felt.

He smiled too, and his seemed quite sincere. "Were you? You didn't seem nearly so nervous tonight, either. Progress, don't you agree?"

Progress? Was it progress if she didn't remember? It seemed more unhealthy. Maybe she should say something. No, she definitely should not say something. He seemed pleased, and she didn't remember anything. A win-win situation, those were called, weren't they? "I think so, Your Highness."

He frowned slightly at that, and she tensed. Had she said something wrong? But then, "Why don't we dispense with this 'Your Highness' silliness? You are becoming stronger every day, and you will soon be an honored princess of Korrinoth. I think you've more than earned the right to use a more intimate name."

Romelle's eyes widened slightly. Oh… it was strange, really. She'd hardly even thought twice about using his title. Maybe it was a bit improper for a consort, but there was no question about who held the power here. Nor was there any question of the correct response, now that it had come up. "I… would be honored," she murmured. "Is there some… proper counterpart to a'kuri? Or something else?"

"Sincline." He ran his fingers through her hair. "The title of honor for a royal suitor is sincline."

"Sincline," she repeated slowly, nodding. "Thank you… sincline. I hope to continue to make progress."

"I'm certain you will, a'kuri." Still smiling, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

Romelle closed her eyes, trying to keep herself steady. Whatever had happened, she knew it couldn't truly be a good thing. And yet as always, Lotor seemed to find it worthy. What would come next?

No… no. She couldn't think about that. She just had to endure it. This was her place, as an honored princess of Korrinoth.

Honor…

Sinking back into Lotor, feeling his lips move to hers, she felt the fog moving in again. She didn't fight it.