(On the Hunt) Chapter 15

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 15

Reroute to Remain

As promised, the team had been permitted to use Khoru's port facilities the repair the Bolt. They had not been permitted to use anything else, touch anything else, or leave their berth for anything but arranging the initial delivery of new hull plating. That meant no use of their subspace relay to report to Hawkins, who was probably going to get what Hunk had termed a 'nastygram' for their little adventure. It also meant no connecting to the Alliance's full intelligence database—they were limited to what the ship carried. Which was none too shabby, but didn't have the depth they might have preferred.

Pidge was sitting at the conference table with his datapad linked to the ship, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at him. He didn't like being the center of attention at all. At least the research itself was keeping him focused… he was typing quickly, scanning through information as it came up, trying to get a solid overall picture before reporting his findings. It was all pretty much leaning one way.

"He did say the name wouldn't be any use to us without an introduction." Flynn was sitting on the table, watching him type, trying to catch any glimpse of the information—though it wasn't doing him any good, it was all in Baltan.

"Yeah, he even warned us we'd get nothing," Lance muttered from where he was leaning against the wall. "Snake."

"No doubt." The ninja frowned slightly. "But maybe he was a bit overconfident about how many people named 'Glethaun of the Sixth River' exist in the galaxy."

"Oh, he was over-con-fident," their pilot snorted, earning a glare from Jace.

"You've been insufferable enough about this without the fucking puns."

"I saved your asses."

Keith sighed. "We got it, McClain."

"Good. Hopefully next time I say don't trust a guy, I actually get listened to!"

"We will do our best to heed your warning next time," Sven promised before Jace could say anything else; Lance grinned.

"Heed? Good word, Viking."

Rolling his eyes and drumming his fingers on the table, Keith decided it was about time to get back to business. "So, Stoker. What do we have on this… Glethaun?"

"Drule, likely Seventh Kingdom origin." Glethaun was not at all an uncommon name among the Drules, it turned out. The Sixth River, though, was the sort of title one only claimed out of arrogance; it was a mythological reference to a paradise of extraordinary wealth. He'd basically named himself Glethaun the Filthy Rich. "Known to Alliance intel as a major underworld player rimward of the Fourth Kingdom Incursion Zone. Smuggling, drug running, blackmail, protection schemes. Possible assassinations, but that's never been definitively proven."

Several eyebrows around the table had risen progressively higher as Pidge went down the list. "So… all around bad guy, got it."

"What a lovely resume for the employer of Shady Snake Voldemort." As usual, only Hunk snickered at Lance's reference. "What a shock."

Pidge was still reading. "His opsec is tight. Intel believes his operation is based on a planet called Dradin, right on the edge of No Man's Land." He scrolled down a bit more. "He runs an organization called the Zengara Syndicate. Alias Boss Dread."

"Boss Dread," Keith repeated. "Doesn't sound very… welcoming."

"Kind of gives the game right away, doesn't he?" Flynn agreed.

Lance tilted his head. "Cool name…"

"Okay, now you sound like Lance again," Hunk snickered, earning a grin in return.

"…But do we really wanna contact the guy that guy told us about?"

Jace and Sven both eyed him. "You got any better ideas?"

"It's the most promising lead we have right now."

If he were being honest, Keith thought Lance was right. He also knew better than to actually say Lance was right; they were already never going to hear the end of it. Instead he looked at Pidge again. "Any known associates that might be easier to get in touch with? …And maybe a little less shady?"

The ninja was quiet for a few moments. "Nothing coming up. The Syndicate itself…" He scrolled a little more, then shook his head. "'Consult report U.Ops.539.2'. Nothing in the general database."

Lance shrugged. "Well fine, we can go to him. Just suggest not being stupid about it this time."

"We weren't that stupid about it last time," Flynn protested. "For us."

"You—well not you specifically—you all walked a criminal right to his goods!"

"A very pretty criminal," Daniel mumbled.

Luckily, Lance didn't hear that, because Jace had spoken up at the same time. "And how'd it work out for him?"

"I killed him!"

"Vince helped."

"I did?" Vince startled a little. He supposed he had, but it had kind of been half reflex and half panic.

"You did, it was pretty epic."

"Yeah, that was an awesome shot."

Heat was creeping up Vince's neck and ears; he wasn't sure how to handle all this attention. Maybe Hunk noticed. Maybe he was just being himself. "Daniel helped too!"

"Yes, epic piloting."

"I was pretty epic."

"And my kill shot was the most epic."

Keith smirked. "It took you two shots to bring him down. Not that impressive."

"Did you even do anything?" Daniel muttered, earning a jab from Cam.

"It was perfectly serviceable," Flynn murmured at the same time. Lance glared; he winked.

Unable to wholly hide his smirk, their pilot shook his head and turned his attention back to the boss. "He was a giant snake. It was impressive!"

Nobody seemed ready to keep that argument up; Pidge gave the silence a few seconds. "Dradin is interesting."

"How so, Pidge?" Sven was also eager to get back to the actual business.

"Yes, apologies, Stoker. Please continue."

"Independently held planet. No native life. The Alliance and Supremacy both acknowledged a diplomatic claim on it about twenty years ago, from a Karkinosi businessman named Argos Mansetti." The ninja leaned back slightly. "By 'businessman' I mean another smuggler."

"Argos Mansetti?" Lance grinned slightly. "I like it." It might not have had the badass points of Boss Dread, but given how things had gone with the snake that might be just as well.

"So Dradin is…" Keith trailed off a moment, trying to remember the exact phrasing. "…a wretched hive of… scum and villainy?"

"Ooh, Boss dropping the pop culture!"

"I do listen to all of you occasionally. Not much choice."

"It doesn't seem to be, sir." Pidge, as usual, simply opted not to acknowledge whatever nonsense was being thrown about this time. "Its primary industry appears to be tourism."

"Tourism?" For a moment he wondered if that was a euphemism, but no; if the Alliance knew there was smuggling going on, they'd say smuggling. It had caused the occasional diplomatic incident. "What kind of tourism?"

"Y'know, now that you say that, I'm pretty sure I've heard of Dradin…" Hunk leaned over Pidge's shoulder to have a look. It didn't help him, he couldn't read Baltan either. But a moment later the room's main screen lit up with a riot of bright colors and flashing lights.

"Welcome to fabulous Dradin!" an excited voice boomed. "Come for a relaxing getaway—or all the adventure you can handle! Visit the Spur-famous Leisuredrome, see the—" That was about when Pidge recovered enough to mute the ad, though it kept playing, splashing images of everything from fancy cocktail galas to huge twisted roller coaster tracks over the screen.

"…Really?"

"Holy shit, it's Vegas!"

"Wow…"

"We're going, right?"

"I remember now!" Hunk's eyes had lit up as he watched the commercial. "The galactic crush car finals were there a few years back, the place got all sorts of coverage, it looked epic."

Keith grimaced, wondering for a moment how this mission had gone from libraries to this. But… "Well, if that's where our intel is leading us, that's where we're going."

"Yes!"

"This is gonna be fucking awesome!" Lance nudged Flynn, who looked like he was still trying to sort out what he'd just watched. "Don't worry, I won't let an Elvis impersonator marry us, no matter how drunk we get." …Shut up!

"Yeah," Jace snorted, "wouldn't want to subject the poor Elvis impersonator to that." He turned his attention to Sven and smirked; the Viking in Vegas could be fun.

"Wait, who's getting married to an Elvis impersonator?" It was the first time Cam had spoken—he was trying to lay low around Pidge—but he couldn't keep that one down.

Lance breathed a long sigh of relief at the derailment, though he noted Flynn pointedly not looking at him and winced. "It was a joke, Cam, relax." It was just a joke.

"You need better material," Daniel snorted.

Vince had a whole different concern on his mind. "What's an Elvis impersonator? I mean, who is Elvis?"

"I would like to know that as well," Sven agreed. He was equally pointedly ignoring the smirk Jace had shot his way; he'd heard things about Vegas, and could only imagine what debauchery the medic was planning.

Since Lance had apparently been struck speechless, Hunk fielded the question. "He's the King of Rock and Roll, bro! People will try to tell ya he's dead, but don't believe it."

"…Ooookaaaay…" That clarified next to nothing.

"I thought that was Michael Jackson…?"

"Oh! I know him!"

"Michael Jackson was the King of Pop," Lance finally managed to grumble. "How do I survive with you people?"

Keith was wondering the same thing. "Alright, let's get back on track. Stoker, this Mansetti, anything else on him?"

Pidge had been working on that; he certainly hadn't minded having the rest of the team not breathing down his neck for a few minutes as he did so. "He seems pretty benign, as smugglers go. Most of his fortune was made sneaking through local restrictions rather than conventional contraband, so he's unwelcome on quite a few planets but never really ran afoul of any interstellar authorities. At least not enough for them to go after him."

That sounded way more attractive than a dude that snake had pointed them to. Lance crossed his arms. "I like this guy."

Keith nodded slowly. "He may be a safer option than this… Boss Dread."

"Dradin has undergone some major new development recently. Publicly he claims it's his retirement project. Intel doesn't believe he's retired. Further information in report U.Indv.48679." Pidge looked up. "He sounds less risky, but he does also seem to have a Drule mafia organization operating right under his nose."

"I would think he'd notice that," Vince muttered, drawing a few answering nods.

The ninja was typing quickly. "Intel can't confirm any operational links between Mansetti and Boss Dread. They also can't rule it out."

"Maybe not, but it's best to have options," Keith mused. "If he does have a link, maybe he can set up a meeting for us. If not, we're no worse off than we are now."

Flynn frowned thoughtfully. "If he owns the planet and is advertising it as legitimate entertainment, he must be more… restrained than a criminal overlord?"

"Wait, the famous smuggler who owns the planet might not be able to pull as much bullshit as the shady crime boss?" Jace demanded. "That's what we wanna go with?"

"…Possibly?"

"Yep."

"Unless we want to walk into the underworld blind, I think the planet owner is the best option," Keith said in a tone that made it clear the matter was settled.

Shrug. "Just checking."

"Alright. Pidge, what might be the best way to get in touch with this Mansetti?"

The pause was worryingly long this time. "Uncertain. I wouldn't suggest going through the Alliance's diplomatic channels. Relations appear strained."

"Understood. Bounty hunter personas and improvising, then."

"Strained between who?" Flynn muttered under his breath. "The Alliance and Mansetti, or the Alliance and us?"

"I definitely feel my relationship with the Alliance is strained," Lance agreed. "We're complicated on Spacebook."

Vince and Daniel eyed him. "People still use Spacebook?"

"Old people."

"Ahhh."

Most of the team snickered; Lance didn't. "Again. Joke." Maybe he needed to teach people around here some humor, along with pop culture and beer.

Hunk tried to back him up, at least. "Spacebook is definitely a joke."

"Alright, focus!" Keith barked. The thought of starting to run some early morning drills was wandering through his mind… they had a job to do. A bizarre job, but a job nonetheless.

"But focusing is so boring," Daniel whined. "And hard."

Their commander wasn't dignifying that with a response. "This could be our most dangerous stop yet, folks. Smuggler-owned planet, possible mob entanglements, who knows what we could be getting into here." Talking about something more dangerous than kangaroo guardians and giant snakes made his side twinge slightly, but he had no doubt it was the truth. "We need to find a way to get that report to Hawkins, sooner rather than later."

"Yes, definitely because this is going to be dangerous. Not because the Khoruns want our asses nailed to the wall."

"Why not both?"

"If they'd just listened to me…"

Keith glared. "Yes. Both. The point remains."

"We'll have to go through the Atlantis Sector to get to Dradin," Pidge offered. "It's on the other side of the Break."

"We can wait, then." The Break was the nickname for the small area where No Man's Land directly bordered Earth's Five Sectors. The sectors themselves were heavily developed; that particular stretch of the border even more so. Getting access to a subspace relay there for an 'important military matter' should be doable. "Though, I'd still like it to be as soon as possible. Sven, I want the quickest route to Dradin, ASAP."

The navigator was not wholly convinced he wanted to reach Dradin that fast. But they did have a mission to accomplish. "Yes sir."

"We're goin' to Dradin, baby!" Hunk crowed, high-fiving anyone willing to cooperate—so, Lance and Daniel. And smacking Jace lightly on the back of the head, just on principle.

I'm going to regret this, aren't I? Sighing, Keith stood. There wasn't really anything else to be done. We go where the mission takes us. "If there's nothing else, dismissed."

*****

The plan lasted about a week. Which was, to be fair, pretty good for the 686.

Sven was on the bridge prepping some contingency routes when a low beep sounded from his monitors; one glance gave him a strong sense of deja vu. He gave a deep sigh, mixed feelings churning in his gut. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Sir." The word summoned Keith's attention from whatever he was doing to his command chair. Sven remembered him saying something about it needing adjusting, but he was already focusing on the needed equations for the spatial rift forming ahead of them. If they decided to hitch a ride on it, the sooner he got started the better.

"Yes, Holgersson?"

"We've got a rift, sir."

Keith arched an eyebrow. "A rift? After last time?"

"It would shoot us past both Drule territory and No Man's Land, and shave our route time down significantly." The navigator hadn't looked up from his math during that entire statement.

Keith glanced between him and Lance, who had immediately started up some pre-rift stretching. "Give me some more details, Holgersson. What, how, where, when, and… why?"

Sven blinked. That was too many questions, a few seemed irrelevant, but orders were orders he supposed. "A rift, I don't have sufficient time to explain how a rift forms, close to our current position, in a few minutes, and as to why… to shave time off our very long trip?" His tone held a hint of annoyance; Lance snickered, while Keith glared.

"Doc would be proud of you, smartass, but he'll murder you for suggesting this if you do end up sick again."

Sven didn't feel the need to point out that Jace wouldn't murder him. Endlessly mock him, most definitely, but no murder. He did however feel the need to defend himself against the accusation that he was suggesting this nonsense. "I answered your questions, and I am not suggesting anything." He had little desire to heave out his stomach contents, again, but he'd be failing utterly at his job if he didn't mention it. "I am making my commander aware of our options."

…Well, nobody could accuse the Viking of insufficient commitment to his duty. Keith could appreciate that. Especially with how things had been going lately… he sighed and hit the comms. "Kleid, prep the bay for a rift. Doc, get your biometric sensors out, and find a place you can strap in." As he finished the orders he strapped himself in, with Lance finishing his stretches and doing likewise. "All hands, prepare for rift jump."

"Ooh, Viking gonna lose his guts again?" Jace snickered. "On my way."

"Copy," Flynn responded, turning to his wrenchlings. "Hunk, you take the hyperspace thrusters, I'll watch the main engines. Vince, you're on shield calibration. Pidge, monitor the main console."

"Yes sir…" Vince swallowed. "Are rift jumps as bad as they say?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On if ya win the vomit lottery," Hunk offered.

"Oh… I'd like to stay not winning that. I've never vomited." For a moment everyone, even Pidge, turned to stare at him in shock; he nodded a little sheepishly. "I haven't."

"Some veteran advice then: don't start!" Hunk patted his shoulder, then took off for an auxiliary panel.

Daniel and Cam came running onto the bridge, taking their stations and strapping in. Cam looked over at Keith. "What exactly are we about to do here?"

Even if Keith had felt qualified to answer that question, they didn't have time. Someone could explain it properly later. "Just buckle in and pray you don't get sick, Starr."

"Viking, your math gonna tell me how hard this is gonna be on my shoulders?" Lance asked.

"It does not tell me that, Lance."

"Knew it was a long shot." Their pilot began doing a few more stretches in his chair, hoping his muscles wouldn't be too sore this time.

Flynn was working on the engine syncing. It was a bit more difficult on the Bolt than it had been on the Firecrown; having hyperspace thrusters to sync with as well really made a mess of things. "Send us those numbers when you can."

Right as he asked Sven was finishing them up. "They are on their way."

Not a moment too soon. Jace jogged onto the bridge, arms filled with bio monitors. "Big Brother is here for your biometrics."

"Just slap them on me and get it over with," Lance groaned, watching as Sven grabbed the bridge's trash can and moved it over towards his chair. "Viking, maybe you'll get lucky this time."

"I'm hopeful." He was. Very hopeful.

"Hope must always spring eternal—OW!" Lance yelled as Jace slapped his bio sensor on a little harder than necessary.

Daniel had been silently watching everyone, and as they talked his face scrunched up in slight worry. He strapped himself into his chair. "This is going to be interesting, huh?"

"It'll fucking suck, just pray you don't throw up."

Daniel looked at Lance and nodded; that was in no way reassuring. Cam wasn't reassured either, watching the exchange and tightening his straps in response. Jace moved away from Lance and walked over to Sven, quickly putting his sensors on, absently glancing over his shoulder as he did so. He blinked and did a double take.

"…Uh, Viking, is that showing where we're actually going?" His tone was unusually tense.

"Yes," Sven responded calmly

Jace looked at the bright yellow line going straight through the Fourth Kingdom Incursion Zone. "…Not to tell you your business, but that looks like a really, really long fucking way through space we're really, really not fucking allowed in." As he hooked up everyone else's sensors, he glanced back at the monitor every few seconds as if wishing that the image would change.

Lance, hearing him, pulled the image up on his own monitors. "Whoa…"

"Fuck," Daniel said with a raised brow, glancing at Lance's monitors.

"We'll be fine. We're not stopping for souvenirs," Keith told them. Sven nodded in agreement.

"It's not physically possible for us to actually stop there, so it will be okay." He opted not to explain the other half of that equation—any attempt to stop a ship in the middle of a rift jump would also smash it into a few tiny scraps of foil. That would definitely not help reassure anyone.

Jace eyed him warily, muttering under his breath as he put on Cam's monitors. "And this is why I fucking hate space travel, I'd bitch a lot more if it weren't you doing the math."

"Understood." Sven smiled.

"Just think, Doc, this was his idea." Keith grinned.

Sven swiveled his chair and glared, he'd had quite enough of this. He wasn't even sick yet. "Next time a rift opens up I will be sure to keep my mouth shut, sir."

Lance snickered at the Viking being sassy, and Keith chuckled. "Just make sure you throw up in the trash."

With a great deal of effort, Sven kept his mouth shut and fought the urge to deck his commanding officer. Is this what Daniel feels like all the time?

Speaking of Daniel, he was the last one Jace was hooking up. And he looked nervous. "What are you all jumpy about?" the medic asked. "This rift thing is reckless and stupid, you'll love it."

"I'm not jumpy, I just… I'm not the one piloting." Reckless and stupid sounded so much more enticing when he had at least some control of the outcome.

"Yeah, thank fuck." Last thing Jace wanted was the kid piloting them through this.

"It's always so nice talking to you," Daniel snarked.

"Hey, at least one of us enjoys it!" Jace shot right back, finishing with his monitors and heading off to the bay.

The Bolt was starting to rattle violently as they approached the rift well. Lance would have expected a larger ship to be sturdier, but he supposed it also had more surface area for the fluctuations to hit. Cam braced against the jolting and tried not to pull on his sensors. At least these don't poke us with needles, but… "These things suck."

"Don't fiddle with them, Jace will poke you harder," Lance warned.

"Are they supposed to itch?" Cam asked, rubbing one of the pads.

"Don't mention the itch."

"But they do itch," Daniel countered. Lance ignored him, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge that. He had to focus on keeping the ship steady, not the fact that the monitors did indeed itch like a bitch.

"Send me the details on our entry when ready, Viking." Immediately the acceleration and trajectory equations appeared on his screen, and he nodded. Time to do some awesome. Though the numbers seemed… optimistic?

"How long will we be in the rift, Holgersson?" Keith asked.

"Can we really shoot that far?" Lance asked right after.

"We will be in the rift a little longer than last time, but not by much, and yes we can. The HPR drives have increased our speed which increases our rift jump range," Sven explained.

"Awesome." Lance grinned. This sounded even more fun than the last rift.

HPR drives? Flynn looked up from calibrating the engines to shoot a dirty look at the comms. "Honestly, Holgersson. You're getting enough grief right now without using the unrepresentative academic term for my hyperspace thrusters."

Sven shook his head; apparently this was pick on the Viking day? When did Jace become the most enjoyable person here? "I don't understand your issue with my usage of the correct terminology."

"Hyperspace thrusters sound cooler," Lance informed him. "By a fucking lot."

"After the jump we can discuss the differences between mass-burning engines and zero-propellant drive theories if you like," Flynn offered. "Might put you to sleep, but if you do get sick you'll need the rest?"

"I am sick… of all of them," Sven muttered to himself.

"Nah, Viking, you love me." Lance reached over and gave him a playful swat, then started skimming the rift well to get the Bolt into position. This was going to be good.

Jace entered the engine bay, glancing around quickly. There was not a place to strap in, per se, but there were bracing bars for the poor saps who had to be standing and running around in here during crazy maneuvers. "I'm camping back here with you assholes," he announced, starting to hook up monitors.

Shrugging, Vince just nodded at him. If I do get sick at least he'll be close.

"Fine, don't touch anything," Flynn ordered, watching the medic finish up and secure himself at an empty station. "Kogane, we're set back here."

"Alright. McClain, take us in."

In the back of the bay, Pidge and Vince exchanged looks as they braced themselves. Pidge was intrigued; he'd never been on a rift jump before. The Alliance frowned upon its line ships performing such risky maneuvers. Vince was much less intrigued; he was just holding his breath and telling himself over and over that everything would be fine.

Daniel and Cam were exchanging similar looks. But their attention was quickly redirected to Lance leaning forward slightly, hands tight on the control rods, as the Bolt's engines spooled up to full power. A moment later they were hurtling forward into a seething mass of color and light.

"WOOHOO!" Lance cried out, a huge grin on his face as he wrestled with the controls. This would never get old.

Daniel laughed, all his previous nervousness vanishing in an instant as the ship lurched. Cam's nervousness hadn't gone anywhere. "This is crazy. He's crazy. We're all crazy!" Keith had his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing, or he might have offered some agreement.

Flynn listened as the hyperspace thrusters made a deafening shriek, very unlike the standard engines as they tore through the rift. A few moments later they were drowned out by Vince's own shriek.

"Oh holy heck!"

"Fuck, kid, the word is ‘fuck'," Jace corrected, tightening his hold on the bracing bar.

"The word is WHEEEE!" Hunk re-corrected.

Vince considered that a moment, clinging tighter to his own bar. "I'm agreeing with Jace."

"Hey, you are smart."

"It's been mentioned."

Mercifully, Pidge missed the entire conversation; he had his hands over his ears because of the engine noise. His full focus was on the console in front of him, the occasional adjustments to the ship's power distribution, and trying not to be thrown across the bay as the turbulence increased.

"This is awesome!" Daniel crowed as they approached the final stretch. Sven cracked an eye open, glaring. He was already not finding this awesome; he half expected the hull to fall apart around them, the way the ship was being bounced about.

Lance was keeping them on track with all his might, and quickly called off the gunner's celebration. "Hold on, the hard part is coming."

At the same time Flynn heard the engines change pitch, indicating they were about to flame out. A deep rumble echoed from somewhere below the bay; as the engines sputtered, the breach drive was barely holding its containment field together. "Exit breach incoming!"

The Bolt burst back into real space, spinning to a stop with what Lance would call a fucking flourish. All of the engines went dead silent; the lights went out for a few moments before backup power kicked on.

"Fucking ow…" Lance threw his straps off and stretched, feeling like his shoulders had been encased in cement. The warm-up stretches hadn't helped even a little.

Daniel jerked around, his equilibrium a bit off, before managing to get out of his own restraints. He was laughing. "Still awesome!"

"Try flying it, kid… eh, never mind. It is fucking awesome," Lance agreed.

Keith slowly opened his eyes. Everything looked intact, but he'd believe it when he had confirmation. "Status reports as soon as systems come back up."

Pidge slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, looking around the suddenly dead silent engine bay. "Mijtairra…"

"Whatever you said, ninjerk." Jace unclenched his hands from the bracing bar, checking his scanners.

Vince cracked an eye open. He wasn't sure when he'd closed them; he was supposed to be watching the ship's shield calibration. Looking around, he flinched slightly as he noticed Flynn watching him. The chief looked amused. "Shields alright?"

He checked his monitors and nodded. "Minimal disruption. They're resetting now."

Pidge checked the main status panel without prompting. "Backup systems are optimal. Engines are down."

"…Yes. Thank you, Pidge." Flynn gave a half smile. "Keep an eye on things."

Sven's eyes were still shut tight, though it wasn't helping the nausea ripping through him. At all. He had absolutely zero intentions of giving any sort of status report, because holy Odin this had to be worse than last time. Finally he managed to yank his straps off and rush towards the trash can he'd moved earlier.

"Oh, ugh… Viking, you're cursed." Lance winced in sympathy, and then in pain as his own curse reasserted itself. He leaned back and rubbed his shoulders, wincing. "Damn it, those stretches were useless."

"Oh god…" Cam felt his stomach start to quiver, quickly covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound of Sven retching. It wasn't working.

Sven for his part was oblivious to what was going on around him, he was far more focused on how an entire body could be nauseous. How did his fingers feel like heaving? If this was what an HPR-drive-assisted rift jump did to him, no way in hell was he ever going to mention a rift again.

As the bridge struggled with the aftereffects, Vince came to a realization. "Oh hey, still on Team No Vomit!"

"Good!" Jace shook his head slowly, checking Hunk's monitor. It looked okay. A certain other monitor very much did not. "Giant donut dude, if you get queasy, sit your ass down and I'll come back. Viking needs me, rapidamente."

Hunk grinned. "Awwwwwww!"

"Fuck you!" Jace snapped before bolting from the bay.

Lance was listening to the comms, and laughed as he overheard the exchange. "Don't worry, Sven, your man is on his way!" Keith blinked and decided to just pretend he hadn't heard that. Cam didn't hear anything except Sven—it was impossible to ignore, and he couldn't hold out any longer. He grabbed another trash can.

"Ew." Daniel swallowed back a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the rift. "Oh, that's nasty. I'm leaving." He unfastened his straps and fled the bridge, nearly colliding with Jace as he entered.

The medic looked around, checked his scanner again, and raised an eyebrow. "Starr, knock that shit off, there's nothing wrong with you."

Cam looked up at him and grimaced. "I know. I hate being a sympathy puker…"

"Sympathy does suck," Jace agreed with a snort. He grabbed a couple of pills from his kit and handed them over anyway, then headed over to Sven. "Dude, your readings are fucked."

"Hnn." It was the only sound of agreement Sven could manage.

"Let's get you out of here." Jace handed him a sterile bag to replace his trash can. "Next time you're gonna navigate from the sick bay."

Sven leaned into him as they stood up. "Not doing it again," he managed before burying his face in the bag.

"Atta boy." Jace patted his shoulder. "That's our fearless Viking." It was so nice to have a real sick bay he could drag the dude to this time… and he really did pretty much half drag him from the bridge.

Hunk took a few experimental steps around the bay, waiting to see if the world would go all spinny on him. Everything seemed alright. He looked at the silent engine shafts for a moment. "What's the plan, pit boss?"

"We'll check the main engines. You take the left side. Vince, Pidge, basic inspection on the hyperspace thrusters," Flynn ordered. Vince nodded, and he and Pidge departed for the elevators—those maintenance shafts were on the deck below.

Inspection went quickly and smoothly, which was Flynn's favorite kind of inspection. Engine four took a couple of test fires to recover, but at least it hadn't undergone any catastrophic damage. Or non-catastrophic damage, even, it had just been a bit stubborn. He couldn't really blame it. After the abuse they'd just put this ship through, he might be a little stubborn too.

As he emerged from the engine shaft to wait for the kids, he glanced over at Hunk, who was poking at his datapad. A moment later, music filled the bay—he didn't recognize it, but he could make out the words we are the crazy ones, which seemed apt. "Is that entirely necessary?"

"Entirely, pit boss!"

"Okay, carry on." He smirked. "At least you wore pants this time, thanks for that."

Hunk burst into laughter loud enough to drown the music out.

Pidge and Vince returned a couple of minutes later, bearing good news: the hyperspace thrusters had survived the jump as well. "Kogane, the engines are fine, we'll have them firing at full in ten. Breach drive needs to reset itself."

"Roger that, Kleid. McClain, you alright to get us started towards Dradin?" Keith asked.

Lance gave a wide smile, the ache in his shoulders immediately forgotten. "Fucking good for planet Vegas."

Keith nodded, standing to check the navigation coordinates. They were right where they were supposed to be… then he hesitated, checking the map again and realizing where they'd actually turned up. Quite near to Dradin… on the other side of the Break. Closing his eyes, he mentally kicked himself; he really should have thought of that at the time.

Oh well. They would probably hit Dradin faster now than they would have made the Atlantis Sector before. "Good. Get us moving, then. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can move forward on our mission…" He shook his head. "And hopefully use their subspace relay."

Explorer Teams. As usual.

*****

Being the only person willing to brave the Forest of Altair had been serving Larmina well so far. It meant she wasn't competing for rolis with anyone else—which both meant more meat for everyone, and her kill count easily starting to surpass Hanso. But she hadn't seen any banewolves. And even in the forest, the oncoming winter was making its presence felt.

There was no sign of any rolis at all today, and she sighed, stopping to lean against a tree trunk. At the least she'd be able to bring some berries back to the tunnels, but berries would hardly make a dent in the problem…

A familiar yip sounded off to her left.

Turning, she saw two banewolves approaching—one blacker than the shadows around them, the other pure white and nearly glowing in the filtered sunlight. She froze for a moment, watching in awe. There they are. The same ones who'd helped her before? They had to be, didn't they?

They weren't alone, she realized after a moment. Smaller shadows were trailing behind them.

Are those… puppies?

One of the little shadows broke ranks and ran at her, growling and yipping excitedly, batting at the loose strap on her boots with one paw. Yes, definitely puppies. They were varying shades of gray, with darker paws and markings, unlike the adults.

"Are these yours?" she asked, as the white banewolf wagged its tail and watched her. The black one nudged a few others forward, and a moment later she was surrounded by tiny, leaping balls of fluff.

I guess that means I'm allowed to do this…

She knelt and ruffled the first pup's soft fur, giggling as it licked her face in return. "Nice to meet you." The other pups scrambled to her hand, tumbling over each other until she'd pet and scritched every single one… some probably more than once, that first one kept pushing its way back in for more.

A rustling somewhere nearby silenced them, and Larmina fell silent too. Whatever it was, it was large and loud, nothing like the graceful banewolves. The banewolves themselves bristled, the adults stalking forward slowly… the white one looked back as if to tell her to follow.

Really?

It kept staring at her until she obeyed, drawing her bow… just in case. There had never been any Drules in this forest before, but there also hadn't been Drules on Arus until all of a sudden there were.

The noise, it turned out, wasn't a Drule. It was a rock deer, chewing on a branch full of pale leaves. It briefly turned its head to her, but didn't seem concerned. Not that she would've been concerned either, if she'd been a hulking mass of strong muscle and sharp antlers that feared only…

…Banewolves.

Suddenly the pups were deadly focused, charging forward as swift and silent as the wind. The deer tried to turn and run, but the pups were too quick. And clever. They surrounded it before it could do anything, driving it to the ground and…

Well…

Larmina blinked, watching as the pups gnawed at the deer's fur. Their sharp claws and teeth were still tiny, and they weren't actually getting through its thick hide.

That's a little… anticlimactic. She bit down a wholly inappropriate giggle. This was the savagery of nature she was watching, but it was also awfully cute watching the little fluffballs scramble over the huge deer, yipping in frustration.

It stopped being cute when the black banewolf abruptly sprang forward, ripping the deer's throat open with a single efficient strike from its claws.

Oh. She swallowed, stepping back as the pups crowded the kill. Maybe this would be a good time to get out of here and go find some berries. Or maybe just—

—As soon as she took another step back, the white banewolf snuffled and trotted up next to her, pushing her to the right. Well, she sure wasn't going to disobey after that display.

They walked together for a minute or two, then that loud rustling sound came again. Another rock deer. This one seemed not to notice her at all, fully intent on the leaves it was eating.

Okay…

The wolf nuzzled her hand with the bow in it, pushed its head forward to indicate the deer, then looked back at her.

This doesn't make any sense…

Larmina stared into the great beast's golden eyes, trying to understand what was happening here. How could it know what the bow was for? Why was it leading her to prey? This was a wild animal! And yet… the legends said the banewolves were creations of the Golden Gods, created when they overthrew the Usurpers and reclaimed Arus for their own. Could that be true? Were these creatures the agents of the gods even now?

Not that the Golden Gods had been any help to them yet. If her prayers had finally been answered, she wasn't about to reject it. Nodding to the wolf, she readied the bow and fired.

Her arrow flew true, piercing the beast's chest. It reared back, stomping and grunting in distress; she tried to line up a second arrow, but the way it was thrashing led to it only hitting the leg. That wasn't helpful. Wincing at the obvious pain of her quarry, Larmina reached for a third arrow.

She didn't have to use it. The banewolf sprang forward, striking a killing blow almost identical to what its mate had done to the other deer. Immediately it stilled and dropped to the forest floor.

Larmina hesitated, eyes widening as the wolf padded back to her and yipped. She knew what she'd just seen, but it was too crazy to accept. "Are you… teaching me to hunt?"

It jumped up on its hind legs, licked her face, then vanished into the undergrowth.

"…Thank you," she whispered after it, then looked back at the dead deer. With two arrows and some unbelievable help, she'd done better than a dozen rolis. This could feed the survivors for days by itself…

So how are you going to pull this off, exactly?

…Once she somehow dragged it back to the tunnels.

Slinging her bow over her back, Larmina grabbed one of the deer's legs and yanked with all her might, managing to budge it about an inch. Oh, this was going to be an adventure.