(On the Hunt) Chapter 20

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 20

Call and Response

Somewhere along the border of No Man's Land, waypoints got exciting again. Lance wasn't even completely sure where they were. He was just following Sven's route, bringing the Bolt to the correct coordinates and trusting it would eventually get them where they belonged. And as they slipped from hyperspace into the middle of nowhere, an alert tone started to sound.

It was on Cam's panel. He flipped a few switches, frowning and double checking the results. A message was coming in on a hyperbroadcast frequency that was only ever used for one thing… "Um, Lance, we're picking up a distress signal."

"Huh?" The pilot turned to him, then switched over to reverse thrust and brought the Bolt to a stop. "Let Keith know." As Cam nodded and sent the commander a heads up, he looked back to Sven, who wasn't exactly on shift; he just liked being at his station at waypoints, to double check whatever the computer spit out before they breached again. "We anywhere good, Viking?"

"If by good you mean exciting, not really."

"Yeah, somehow I doubted it."

Keith came striding onto the bridge a few moments later, walking straight over to Cam. The comms officer was still working on assembling a full signal. "Put it through as soon as you've got it, Starr."

"Roger that, sir." It came through a few seconds later, broken and cloaked in static, but audible.

"Attention any Alliance-friendly vessel. This is the CMS Farantin requesting assistance. We have sustained major damage. Situation is Code 4."

Cam glanced around the bridge, but nobody else seemed to be wincing as badly as he was. Which probably meant they didn't know what they'd just heard… it was the second-worst distress status available, and the worst usually ended with finding nothing but bodies. "Code 4 is impending certain LOCV without aid. Power and/or life support failing."

Loss of crew and vessel got the reactions he'd been looking for. Sven's eyebrows shot up, Lance cursed softly, and Keith leaned closer over his shoulder—making sure not to actually touch it, the injury still wasn't fully healed. "That's… definitely bad."

The commander was a master of understatement. "What do we do, sir?"

Keith was quiet for a moment. His immediate reflex was to go. Alliance policy was to answer distress calls, no matter what… if you were a stellar cruiser, which they weren't. Spaceplanes were more situational. They may or may not be able to do anything. But… "We have to try. Trace their position and get the location to McClain immediately."

"Yes sir."

"Ooooh, are we about to have some fun?" Daniel came trotting onto the bridge, a little late for his shift, but he hadn't been expecting anything interesting to happen today.

"We're about to be rescuing someone, hopefully." Lance stretched his shoulders, awaiting the coordinates. He had an idea of what was about to happen here, and he was going to be sore by the end of it. "Someone might wanna warn Flynn."

They might, at that. Keith opened up the internal comms. "Kleid, get to the bay. We've got a distress call, major damage and possible life support compromised."

Flynn had already been on his way to the bay; he broke into a run. "Possible? We don't know any more than possible? Are they not answering?"

"It just came in, we're still tracing the signal. We'll find out."

Another thirty seconds or so was enough for Cam to lock the signal down. "Got it." He sent the heading to the piloting console. "Should I respond?"

Keith nodded. "Tell them we're on our way and will do what we can. See if we can get any more details."

Nodding back, Cam locked the comms equipment on the trace as well. "CMS Farantin, this is ACS Jupiter's Bolt responding to your distress call. Can you tell us any more about your situation?" He looked up as he flipped the transmitter off. "It'll be awhile before we get an answer."

"It'll be a longer while before we get there." Lance shook his head slightly, he'd known this would happen. "Gonna have to do a short-jump path."

Short-jump pathing was, essentially, breaching in and out of hyperspace in short bursts. It was good for several niche purposes: in this case, trying to stay in contact with another ship while still reaching it quickly. They knew how fast the ship's comms moved, they knew how fast the ship itself moved, and they knew the distance they were trying to cover. They could bounce back into real space just long enough to receive a response and send back their own answer, then go back into hyperspace until the next.

It involved a lot of extra math. Sven was happy to have extra math to do; it would get his mind off the fact that they didn't have a proper route mapped. He didn't like that. He didn't like it at all. But there was nothing to be done for it… as they breached into hyperspace, he lost himself in numbers and tried not to worry.

Twenty tense minutes later, the Bolt returned to real space. Immediately a staticy communication came through. "Jupiter's Bolt, copy. We have a hull breach in the engine section. Most of our engineering crew is incapacitated, half of our engines are dangerously compromised, and we only have a few hours of reserve power left."

"…Fuck."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No, no it does not."

Flynn frowned. Something about that report was bothering him, but he couldn't quite place it… no, wait. Dangerously compromised? What the hell did that mean, exactly? "Kogane, get their ship class and engine type, would you?"

Keith nodded to Cam, who relayed the message. Another twenty minutes, another breach, another response.

"We're a Glendenning class. Engines are UniStar Stellar LWR 80. Six installed, three functioning."

Their chief engineer cursed quite profusely. That was not the definition of dangerously compromised he'd wanted to hear. "Heads up, wrenchlings, this day just got unpleasant."

The other engineers winced. Cam, who was not at all an engineer, eyed the speaker and blinked. "That's bad?"

"It's… old," Keith started hesitantly; he'd heard of the Glendenning, but it wasn't his area of expertise.

Flynn had stronger opinions. "Only if you think a two-centuries-obsolete scrap heap carrying light water fission engines is bad…" He would've used stronger words, himself, most of them possessing four letters.

Even Hunk's eyes widened a little. "…Naaah, that's not a problem at all. Right, pit boss?"

"Exactly, it's not a problem, it's several problems." The Bolt didn't even carry radiation suits. Who used fission anymore? He glanced over his wrenchlings and frowned, considering their specialties. "Vince, Pidge, vacuum suits. Hunk, suit up, but you're on standby." Vacuum suits were suboptimal, but it was what they had. He wasn't going to expose any more people than necessary to whatever was going on with these reactors.

The big man mock pouted. "Awww, you mean I might not get to go visit the ship with nuclear bombs on its butt?"

"…They're reactors, not bombs!" He knew Hunk knew that, but honestly…

Vince looked between the two senior engineers and shook his head. They're both nuts. He crossed over to the locker with the vacuum suits, where Pidge was already pulling his out and rolling his eyes dramatically.

The chatter in the bay had pretty much answered Keith's next question. Maybe his next several questions. "Starr, let them know our engineers are able to assist, and we're prepping our sick bay if needed." As Cam nodded and relayed that, he decided he'd better make sure on that second part. "Got that, Gregory? I'm not sure just how bad this ship is going to be, but we need to be ready for anything."

"On it, boss." Jace had been heading for the sick bay already, but he picked up the pace a little. Might get to have those eight quarantined patients after all! Fanfuckingtastic.

As they returned to hyperspace, Keith started pacing behind the helm. It didn't take long for Lance to shoot a scowl over his shoulder. "Boss, I can't fly faster than I already am, breathing down my neck won't help."

"I wasn't," Keith scoffed. "I'm just pacing."

"Yeah, but I can feel it."

Daniel had now been sitting at his station for the better part of an hour. This rescue thing wasn't nearly as exciting as he'd been hoping for. "Do I have to be here?"

He really didn't, but him asking—especially like that—just made Keith want to keep him in place on principle. Then again, that also meant dealing with him. "You can always help Doc prep the sick bay, Brennan."

"Yeah, that'll keep you busy, kid."

The speakers crackled with feedback as their medic yelled a bit too loudly. "Absofuckinglutely not!" Lance snorted, and Daniel sighed. Even that might actually have been better than sitting here watching Keith pace for another couple of hours.

When the next message came through, the other comms officer was audibly relieved. "Understood, Jupiter's Bolt. Appreciate it. Our medic thinks we have enough reserve power to keep our wounded going for another few hours."

Keith paused, leaning over Lance's shoulder. "It shouldn't take us another few hours, should it?"

"Only a couple…" The pilot reached up and pushed him away slightly. I knew he'd do this.

Backing off, Keith frowned. As a stellar cruiser, the Farantin should have its own shuttles, and the Bolt was technically a rescue ship. "Starr, let them know a standard evac is also an option. We can dock a shuttle if need be."

Cam nodded. "Farantin, be advised we are a Vagrant class. If you have a shuttle we have plenty of room for you to evac."

Back in the bay, Flynn was searching through the Bolt's database and getting more and more irritated. They carried a basic spec file on the Glendenning class, but no proper schematics. They certainly didn't have anything resembling a schematic for the UniStar Stellar LWR 80—he knew how a fission engine worked, but knowing the layout of this particular model would've been nice. Finally he sighed and shook his head. "We'll do what we can with the damn things."

"We're ready, sir." As Pidge said it, Vince eyed him warily; he didn't feel all that ready.

One more message came in from the Farantin, and this one sounded a little nervous. Though given the circumstances they were in, nobody was going to question some nervousness. "Understood, Jupiter's Bolt. We'll prep for evacuation, but hopefully we can avoid it, there may be complications."

Complications. Great. Keith looked at Cam and signaled for a simple acknowledgment; they'd gotten all the information they were getting. Time to punch it and do what they could…

It took just under three hours total for the Bolt to reach… well… wherever it was they were going. Sven was still not at all happy to have no proper route information. But as they breached out and started for the distant pinpoint on their sensors, his irritation gave way to stunned silence. Okay, he hadn't been talking anyway, but now he was hardly even breathing.

He wasn't the only one. The sensors were picking up the telltale readings of atmospheric leakage around the other ship. Power spikes, large ones, emanated at irregular intervals. And as the ship's silhouette became clearer, they could see something drifting at some distance beside it. Two things, really. Two broad, silvery sheets that had at one point been attached.

"Holy shit," Lance whispered. "The fuck happened to them?"

"I'd say we're about to find out," Keith answered grimly.

Passing by the severed radiators, the possible absurdity of this endeavor became more and more striking. The Vagrant was one of the largest spaceplanes ever built; the Glendenning's radiator structures alone were nearly as big as their whole ship. "We're seriously gonna rescue this thing?" Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're going to try." Keith's eyes narrowed. "McClain, that's close enough. Starr… let them know we're here."

*****

The Farantin had two shuttles; the Bolt could 'dock' one. In theory, they could've brought one over, docked it, waited for the airlocks, loaded the engineers, undocked it, sent it back…

That all seemed like a lot of unnecessary trouble. So Flynn, Vince, and Pidge were standing in the Bolt's rear port side airlock, looking at the looming hull of the Farantin ahead of them. Both ships had their shields down. That was going to be critical here in a few moments.

Vince had never actually seen a Glendenning-class before. It was pretty typical of human-designed cargo starships: a brick lined with loading bays on one end, an engine bank with a dozen huge radiator fins on the other. That was how many fins a Glendenning was supposed to have, anyway. The two the Farantin had lost had left ragged stubs behind, bleeding sparkling trails of hydraulic fluid into space. Between them was a huge gash in the hull.

"Guess that's where we're going," Flynn said grimly. "You two set?"

"Yessir."

"Um." Vince looked at the other ship again and gulped. Big as the Farantin was, as close as they'd gotten, the gap seemed awfully long when the issue at hand was jumping across it. "Not that I'm expecting it or anything, but what happens if one of us doesn't make it across?"

That seemed to call for some reassurance about the process, and Flynn took a moment to try to find something that would help. Pidge beat him to it, lightly elbowing his roommate with a mild scowl. "We'll come get you, mechka."

Flynn blinked. Then a faint smile flickered over his lips for just a moment. "What he said." He gave the younger engineer's shoulder a quick squeeze. "You're going to be fine, Vince, whatever we have to do to make sure of it. Promise. Alright?"

He took another deep breath, then nodded. "Alright."

Nodding back, Flynn crouched and kicked off the airlock. The other two followed. Rather than aiming for the hole in the armor itself—if the Farantin's gravity system was working, that would end in some pain—they were headed for part of the broken fin nearest the gash. Plenty of handholds there, it wouldn't be difficult to climb down to the gash and inside. And once they were there, well… they'd do something.

Hopefully.

*****

While the other engineers were having 'fun' in zero gravity, Hunk was having fun with the docking controls. The primary cargo bay of a Vagrant was equipped with two robotic arms to help stabilize and maneuver payload, whether that payload was a pile of cargo crates or an entire small spacecraft. In this case, it was an entire small spacecraft. Once the Farantin's shuttle was secured, he headed for the internal airlock to meet with the others. All he could really do right now was hurry up and wait; may as well keep himself amused in the meantime.

Most of the rest of the team was waiting at the airlock. Only Cam was still on the bridge, monitoring comms. Not all of the Farantin's crew had come over; they'd indicated it would be the bridge crew transferring. Just in case.

"Hey, it's a party!" Hunk got a few strange looks when he turned up in his vacuum suit—sans helmet, obviously—but then, he got strange looks most of the time anyway. "Probably gonna need a party, yeah?"

"New people, stranded in space?" Lance grinned back at him. "Gotta have a party."

"Party sounds fun," Daniel agreed.

Rolling his eyes, Jace muttered the most unenthusiastic "yay" in history under his breath. Sven elbowed him.

Keith frowned slightly. He couldn't help but feel like the Farantin's crew must be traumatized enough without being subjected to an Explorer Team party. "We at least should welcome them warmly, and assure them we'll do everything we can for them."

"Totally."

"And tell them we have beer."

Sigh. "…I just hope their people will be alright. And ours, too."

"We've got this, boss." Lance smirked. "Full not-really-bounty-hunters rescue is in progress." The airlock hissed open, and the group headed into the cargo bay.

The shuttle's hatch slid open as they filed in, and Keith stopped, a little startled. The woman standing there was unmistakably a Hydran.

Hydrans were one of the Alliance's Founding Powers. More than that, they were distant relatives of the Drules, descendants of an ancient colonization mission gone awry. Their cousins generally saw them as abominations that should be ashamed to exist; they returned that disgust with quiet contempt. They did still look quite a bit like Drules—the same golden eyes, pointed ears, and fangs—though their skin tended towards a bit more turquoise than the normal Drule blue. Otherwise they would really have been unsettling.

This particular Hydran had pale aqua-blue skin and short silver hair, and an aura of calm command that was difficult to miss. She bowed her head in greeting. "Ara'klur, friends. We appreciate your aid more than I can say, we've been—"

A second Hydran popped up over her shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "We've brought our rec room!"

The other captain pressed a hand to her forehead for a moment, then gave a wry smile. "…Yes, and we've brought our rec room."

"A rec room?" Lance repeated, looking the shuttle up and down.

The second Hydran nodded, still grinning. "It's got the works."

Hunk brightened. "I wanna know all about the works," he declared. This sounded like it could be all kinds of fun.

"Come and take a look!"

Giving Lance's arm a tug that was enough to make him stumble a bit, Hunk headed for the shuttle's hatch with the pilot right on his heels. Daniel followed, it sounded way more fun than whatever boring command stuff was about to happen in the bay.

The Farantin's captain let the group pass, then shook her head slightly and approached the remaining three. Keith had stayed because it was his duty; Sven had stayed with Keith because someone surely ought to, and Jace had stayed because it seemed safer. "Forgive my crew's exuberance. We've been adrift for hours. Between the badly compromised engines and injured crewmates… my people have been desperate for a distraction."

That was more than understandable, given the circumstances. "I can't blame them for being excited for company. In any case, welcome aboard. I'm Keith, the commander of the Bolt… these are Sven and Jace, our navigator and medic."

The Hydran bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "I am Tekyal, captain of the Farantin. You have our thanks for the aid."

"You're quite welcome. How is the situation with your wounded?"

"Our medic is working on getting them stabilized enough for transfer to the other shuttle. She doesn't want to move them unless absolutely necessary, but we will be ready."

"How many were injured?" Sven asked, about half a second before Jace could ask the same.

"Five. Most of our engineers… we run a bit of a skeleton crew. You saw the hull breach, I'm sure." She shifted; the worry in her tone was clear. "Our remaining engineer was waiting to brief your people when we left. She thinks the situation may be salvageable, but she claims she can't say for certain."

Keith nodded. "If you'd prefer to just cut your losses, we're happy to evacuate you. We have plenty of room onboard, and we're on our way to Gliskor. You could get anywhere you need to go from there easily."

Tekyal hesitated a moment; Keith was briefly reminded of the nervousness when they'd made the suggestion over the comms. Possible complications. "It is a kind and appreciated offer, Commander. But we cannot abandon our ship, unless all other options are exhausted."

Complications. "You'd be able to return for it, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps, but we are carrying… highly sensitive cargo. We must not risk it falling into the hands of scavengers." She lowered her eyes. "And we may not be all that far into No Man's Land, but you know what would happen if it were discovered before we returned…"

"…We're where?" Sven asked with an unusually undignified cough. This is what happens when I don't get to map the route! Even Jace looked stunned.

His question seemed to startle the Hydran as much as her words had startled him. "You didn't know?"

A shiver of fear was creeping down Keith's spine. They may have just committed the same violation as the pirates they'd fought not so long ago. The Fourth Kingdom would have a field day if they found a ship full of sensitive equipment in the buffer zone. "We knew we were moving along the edge in our own route, but…" With nothing but a signal to lock onto while searching for the Farantin, they'd had no idea where they might be headed. "…I should alert my comms officer, tell him to be on sharper lookout."

As he typed quickly on his datapad, Tekyal looked around the cargo bay as if gathering her thoughts. "We do have… an impressive enough sensor suite, and we haven't detected anything yet. But caution can't hurt. Most would flee at that news, especially so unexpected."

Jace snorted; Keith smiled. "Most probably would, yes. But not everyone can be, well…" He chuckled. "Us."

"So it seems." Tekyal nodded her understanding. "What brought you out this way, if I may ask?"

"We're bounty hunters. We were heading to Gliskor from Dradin in hopes of finding some information on our quarry…" He studied her carefully. "What exactly brought you into No Man's Land, anyway?"

Had she just flinched? She'd definitely just flinched. But her tone was calm. "We were… taking an admittedly ill-advised shortcut."

"A shortcut?" Sven tilted his head. He couldn't for the life of him think of any shortcuts that might take them through the part of the buffer zone they'd been near, unless… the Hydran homeworld was actually within that zone, but it still seemed well out of their way. "Were you heading to Hydros?"

A loud bang-bang from within the shuttle interrupted the discussion, and Keith blinked. "Um… is everything alright in there?"

Tekyal looked up and cracked a small smile. "Sounds like they're inflicting ping-pong on your crew. Shall we go observe?"

"…Ping-pong? With that much noise?"

"You'll see." The Hydran looked genuinely amused now. "We have modified some human games."

Oh. Oh dear. "Well then," he agreed with a nod, "we probably should go keep an eye on things." Motioning to Sven and Jace, they followed Tekyal onto the shuttle.

*****

After a few minutes of careful maneuvering, Flynn finally dropped from the Farantin's hull to the floor of the engine bay. Actually dropped. The ship's gravity was still engaged after all. That was one thing they had going for them… as the wrenchlings dropped in behind him, he took a quick look around the bay. It wasn't particularly large, in comparison to the whole engine block, but it was plenty big enough.

The first thing he saw was the light—or perhaps more accurately, the lack thereof. On the far side of the bay, three beams of brilliant blue light cut through the darkness. They were the 'status lights' standard to stellar fission engines: they worked by directly relaying the glow of the reactor. The problem with seeing three of them lit was that the Farantin had six engines.

The second thing he saw was a single figure in a proper radiation suit, moving quickly towards them. Faintly glowing golden eyes, just barely visible through the faceplate, suggested a Hydran in the suit; her first words confirmed it.

"Ara'klur, friends… and that's the last nicety we can afford. My name is Lauda, and am I ever glad to see you." As she spoke, a blue flash lit the bay from one of the dimmed engine lights, and she muttered what the new arrivals could only assume to be Hydran profanity.

No need to ask why she was happy to have backup. And definitely no time for niceties. "I'm Flynn, this is Vince and Pidge. What can you tell us?"

"Less than I'd like. Engines four, five, and six are damaged and doing that." She indicated the light that had flashed. "Jettison systems are damaged past functioning. Most of the status equipment didn't survive the first few minutes, but some containment must be holding, my suit's radiation detection isn't picking anything up." She shook her head in frustration. "I'm the bridge sensor tech, the catastrophic failure modes of the engines aren't really my thing."

Engines were absolutely Flynn's thing, and he took another, more careful look around the bay. It looked like Lauda had already pulled up the floor access panels and had been patching what she could; that would help. Following the wires, his attention was drawn to the main control panel. It was dark. "Everything's disabled?"

"Not everything. I engaged all the emergency systems then shut down the main console—I couldn't do anything more with it, no sense wasting the power when we're at half capacity."

Solid logic. The blue light flashed again; he frowned. "Transients?"

"I believe so."

Lovely. The engines hadn't just had catastrophic failures, they were still having them. Flynn was immediately certain trying to fix these things was out of the question. Radiation buildup in the shafts would be too high, even if the cores could be salvaged… which was unlikely. "I think we can get you moving again, but it's going to be essential systems only. The damaged engines are going to have to go. How bad are the jettison systems?"

In response, she pulled a datapad from a pouch on her suit and offered it to him. Apparently she'd done full damage scans before they arrived, too. "I hope you weren't expecting good news?"

For a moment all he could do was stare. Engine jettison systems were relentlessly hyperengineered, precisely for situations like this. But there were some things redundancy just couldn't do much for, and outright vaporization of parts of the launch mechanism was one of them.

That, of course, was precisely what he was looking at.

"…Well, best we get on with this, looks like. Pidge, get things up and running. Call up the ship schematics while you're at it. General, electrical, and full engine system."

"Yessir."

"What actually happened here?" Vince asked hesitantly. He wasn't completely sure he wanted to know, but it seemed like it could be important. Maybe.

The Hydran shook her head. "We had all hands at their stations, prepping to hitch a ride on a warp channel. Hypermetric anomaly cracked right on top of us. Ripped the bay all open. Good news is it got the breach drive's power too, so we were out before it could do too much damage."

Flynn eyed her for a moment as the main console started to come up. This crew might be crazier than we are. Warp channels were something like rivers in hyperspace; just one of the many helpful features that could get you where you wanted to go faster. But warp channels had a nasty habit of attracting hypermetric anomalies, which in turn had a nasty habit of reducing large stretches of hull to their component atoms. "Think it did enough," he observed quietly, though he knew she was right that they'd gotten off lightly. "Your engineers?"

"Messy, but alive. Vacuum exposure for about a minute. The bay's atmo-seal system is still functional—or it was then, anyway—I just turned it off with everything else, nobody was using it anymore."

Also solid logic. He nodded, then looked over at Pidge, who was still easing the systems back online. The fact that it was taking so long wasn't a good sign; the fact that it was working at all was a great sign.

The sudden howl of an emergency siren? Bad sign. Extremely bad sign. "Faex."

"Lai'm'ur."

"Mijtairra sa kye."

"Oh, crap." Vince had a feeling the other three had been stronger, but he'd meant his wholeheartedly nonetheless.

Another blue flash, and a second siren started to howl. "Yes," Flynn muttered as he moved to the nearest engine shaft, "we already know—Pidge, can you shut those damn things up?"

"I think so."

"Wonderful." The status panels on the engine shafts were coming online. Engine six's panel looked like someone had been doing abstract art on the readout. "…You weren't kidding about the status equipment."

Lauda snorted. "Did you think I was?"

"Not at all? I'd just hoped for maybe a salvageable number or two." He checked the other two, though he didn't expect any better. Which was just as well, because he didn't get it. The sirens stopped, though, so at least that was nice. "Pidge, find the last information from the monitors. Vince, we need to fix the jettison system. There's really no point worrying about anything else until we've gotten the runaway nuclear reactions clear." He looked at Lauda for a moment and hesitated; he certainly couldn't give her orders.

She looked back at him. "I'm no bay specialist, but I can follow instructions. Just tell me what to do."

Nodding, Flynn looked down at the open access panels. "You're with us on the jettison systems then. Let's move."

*****

"BEHOLD!"

The shuttle's official name was Cavalcade. The crew had decided that was close enough to arcade, apparently, and gone about converting it into one. The Hydran they were following was waving her arms dramatically as she pointed out all their rec room's amenities: a pool table, ping-pong tables, air hockey, a couple of retro video games… a fully stocked bar…

Lance gave a low whistle. These people knew how to party.

Most of the Farantin's crew turned out to be Hydran. There was one that clearly wasn't: a young woman with pale green skin, broken at her forehead and collarbones by bright green crystal. The crystal, though, was actually exposed bone. She was a Kolaliri, another of the Founding Powers, and she was not at all impressed by the tour her crewmate was giving. "Are the theatrics really necessary?"

Their guide turned and shot her a disapproving look. "Yes, they are very necessary."

"Totes necessary," Hunk agreed, looking around the shuttle again. "This is awesome." The Kolaliri snorted and rolled her eyes; Daniel eyed her warily. He really didn't like Kolaliri.

"We figured the least we could do, given the rescue, was bring our entertainment over." The Hydran who'd led them in smiled. "I'm Katrelle."

"It's very appreciated." Lance winked. "I'm Lance."

Introductions cycled around the shuttle, ending on the Kolaliri, who looked mildly disgruntled at the whole affair. But, proper behavior and all that nonsense. "I'm Tarai." She rolled her eyes, but offered a slight bow of acknowledgment. The space monkeys had turned up to 'rescue' them, after all… though the three here certainly weren't doing much rescuing.

Katrelle turned her attention back to the humans also, still grinning. "So, any of you know pin'guri?" None of them looked the least bit familiar with the word, so she clarified. "Hydran ping-pong."

Hunk's eyes went wide immediately. "I've heard stories. Never had the chance to try it."

"Oh really?" Katrelle's grin was suddenly showing her fangs very prominently. "Then now is your chance, what was it? Hunk?"

"I'm so in." He looked over at Lance. "Doubles, you're in, yeah?"

"Fuck yeah!" Pause. "What the hell is it?"

"It's mostly like basic human ping-pong, but you use two balls at a time." There were a few other little tweaks too, but they would find those out soon enough. She headed over to one of the tables and pulled a paddle from the holder underneath. "Who wants to get some balls flying?"

"I'll play," one of the others—Shachra, Lance thought her name was—offered. He was certain of one thing; the voice was familiar even without static, she had to be the Farantin's comms officer.

Katrelle eyed Shachra too. She was actually not very good at pin'guri, but… they exchanged looks and she nodded in understanding. Easing the humans into things was only fair. "Me and you, then."

Lance approached the table and found a paddle, hefting it experimentally. It was heavier than he was used to, but the balance was perfect. Hunk joined him, flipping a paddle in his hand, then blinked as he caught sight of something beyond the table. "…Wait, is that a grill?"

Two of the other Hydrans were standing by the grill-looking device; one of them, Carfua?, was cooking something on one of the grates. She grinned. "Yes, yes it is."

"Do you grill?" the other asked. Quia, he thought.

"Oh, do I, sister." Hunk turned to Daniel. "Little dude, change of plans, you take the first round. We need snacks."

"Sure!" Daniel accepted the paddle from him and looked across the table. The two Hydrans there looked very businesslike.

So did Lance, come to that. "Okay kid, we're gonna rule this."

Katrelle snorted skeptically. The other Hydrans were gathering around the table now—except Quia, who was much more interested in watching the cooking. Their pilot, Karlina, laughed. "I doubt that, Lance. Kat is deadly with her paddle."

Lance looked back at her and winked. "I'm pretty deadly myself, when I went to be… and I rise to challenges."

"Your funeral…"

Two balls arcing across the table interrupted them; Katrelle had tossed them over. "Guests get to serve first."

Each of the humans managed to snag one of the balls. Lance's was a metallic silver, while Daniel's was glossy black. He supposed, with this setup, they'd have to be different colors to have any hope of keeping track. He studied his for a moment, then took up a serving stance. "So uh, both at the same time?"

"Yep." She smirked. "Come on, waiting to see you rise to my challenge."

"Or scream like a stuck kaelun on the first serve," Shachra agreed with a laugh.

Lance eyed them. As much as he loved trash talk, he'd have liked to feel a little more confident in his ability to back it up… instead of reacting he just winked at Daniel, whose silence probably meant something similar. "You better be ready, kid." He tossed the silver ball in the air and slammed it with the paddle.

A sharp crack rang out, accompanied by a puff of blue-white sparks, and he gave a startled squawk. Daniel had been halfway through his serve and managed not to mess it up, but he gave his own little screech as the black ball gave off the same crack and the same sparks.

Shachra burst into laughter, then returned Lance's serve, with Katrelle returning Daniel's. And in a flurry of loud cracks and bright flashes, it was on.

"This is fucking bonkers already, I love it."

"This is awesome!"

Hunk had started grilling up some pizzadillas, which had seemed like a good priority until the mini-explosions started. Now, for once in his life, he actually regretted choosing cooking. "Dude." He barely even noticed Carfua reaching over, flipping the tortilla he'd briefly forgotten before it could burn. "That's epic."

Slamming a ball back across the table, Lance found himself getting into the boom. The rhythm was almost visceral. "You'll love this, dude!"

Their volleying had gotten the balls into some kind of sync; they were both coming at Katrelle now, and she smirked. Whirling around dramatically, she backhanded them both hard across the table and right past Daniel's paddle. "And score!"

Daniel blinked. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been outsped like that. "We uh, we may not have this."

"Pfft. We might lose a round, but we'll get one in."

As they picked it up again, the four they'd left back in the cargo bay arrived. Keith looked around in… well, awe probably wasn't the right word, but he was impressed. In a sense. "Someone had… some time on their hands," he observed diplomatically.

Tekyal just seemed amused. "That's certain. We rarely have need to use more than one shuttle, and the Farantin's interior is not the most spacious. Some of the crew decided to make do with what we had."

Understandable enough, he supposed. The rest of his team was definitely appreciating it.

Right about then, Hunk yelled through the chaos. "Ding ding! Pizzadillas are ready!"

Shachra was distracted by the call, and the scent of tortillas and pepperoni. "Those smell amazing—" A ball chose that exact moment to bounce by her uncontested, and the humans finally got their first point. "…Sorry, Kat."

Katrelle snickered. "We'll give them one."

"Pizzadillas?" Quia was studying the tray Hunk was loading up with interest.

He nodded, offering her the tray first. "They're quesadillas, but pizza! One of humanity's finest achievements." He frowned slightly. "I mean, spaceflight and stuff was cool too."

"I'll try anything once." She took one of the pizzadilla slices and bit into it. "Oh, wow, this is yummy—Shachra, stop abusing those poor Earthlings and come try one of these!"

Shachra didn't need to be told twice; she surrendered her position to Karlina and ran over. That wasn't going to be any better for the humans, but hey, they'd asked for it…

Keith found a seat—an actual old-fashioned barstool—and settled in to watch the organized chaos. At least most of his team was having fun. He hoped the engineers were, if not enjoying themselves, at least having some decent luck.

*****

They were not.

Work on the damaged jettison systems was going well enough, so far. They had managed to patch up the coolant line to engine six, even… whether that would do any good, Flynn somewhat doubted, but it was better than not having coolant flowing. He was working on engine four's launch mechanism, while Vince and Lauda did what they could with engine five. As for the ninja…

"I have the recordings, sir." Pidge didn't sound happy, even for Pidge. "Internal containment on all three damaged engines was compromised prior to loss of instruments. Engine five was in full meltdown. Four and six were experiencing transient excursions."

"Four and six are still experiencing transient excursions." Flynn made a face. At least five couldn't really get much worse… "Lauda, can gravity be disabled on specific engines?"

She shook her head. "Centrifugal wave relay. All or nothing."

Well, it hadn't hurt to ask. He went back to the cables. Though the closer he got to the engines themselves, the more he was starting to see the problem with this plan.

About twenty minutes of work later, his lack of optimism proved correct. Every part of the jettison systems that could be accessed from the bay had been fixed. And yet…

"All three are still red, sir."

Expecting it didn't make it any better. "The pyro circuits must be damaged." There was only one part of the jettison system physically attached to the engines: the line of pyrotechnic fastening bolts that ringed each one. Once they blew, carefully amplified shockwaves would disintegrate the rest of the engine fasteners, and the catapult mechanisms beneath the bay floor would send the ruined reactors out into space.

If the explosive bolts didn't blow, the engines weren't going anywhere.

"Can we fix them?"

"Somehow." The easiest way would be to just go in the engine shafts. But the engine shafts were full of radiation right now, so that wasn't the best of ideas. They'd have to do it the hard way… which would depend entirely on how the ship was designed. "Vince, have a look at the schematics. Find the best way for us to get a power hookup where we need it."

"On it." He jumped up and joined Pidge at the main console. Even the schematics of this thing were old; it took some effort to figure out what he was looking at, but soon enough he had it.

He'd been studying the engine casings for maybe two minutes when a new alarm sounded. A long, shrill siren that sent a slight chill down even Flynn's spine.

At the same time, a soft crackle came from where Lauda was standing. She froze for a split second, then looked down at her wrist. "Radiation present. Negligible levels, but increasing."

Cevete. "External reactor containment is starting to fail." There was no way of knowing whether it would go down gradually or just collapse. Either way, their time had all but run out.

Pidge turned from the console as crimson warning lights started strobing through the bay. Even he looked worried. "Orders, sir?"

Flynn took a shallow breath. He knew what had to be done… and he knew if it had been Kogane trying to do the equivalent, he'd have been throwing a fit. But they were out of options. "Lauda, does this ship have an emergency jettison panel?" Being able to launch the engines from outside of the bay was a standard safety feature, but he had no idea if it had been standard when this relic had been built.

Based on the look she gave him, probably so. "Of course it does."

"Alright. You three, get out of here. I'm going to open up the engine shafts and finish the repairs."

Pidge gave him a look that was very much like the one he'd have given Kogane for something similar. Lauda blinked, then shook her head. "I'll do it, I'm the one with the actual radiation suit. Just tell me what to do."

True, but not even actual radiation suits could block everything. "The extra time it'll take to walk you through it will offset that, or worse." If even one piece of the system wasn't where he expected it to be, trying to talk her through it would turn into a disaster very quickly. Better if he could see it himself.

She seemed to accept the reasoning, nodding. "Fair enough."

Vince was less accepting, shaking his head frantically. "Are you kidding? Are you crazy? You'll—"

"—Vince. I know exactly what I need to do, I'll be in and out before you know it." He pulled the younger engineer around and met his eyes. "Listen to me. The second the jettison systems come online, run a diagnostic and then eject engines four, six, and five in that order. I'm going to have to go straight for the containment chamber; I'll trigger the bay decontamination systems from there. Once it's clean, core systems and life support need to be rerouted fully to the remaining engines. I'm leaving you in charge of that. Understand?"

…He was what? Vince gulped. "Um…" Oh, he understood. Whether he felt any fraction of Flynn's confidence in him, whether he thought he deserved that responsibility, whether he could handle it, all of that was another story entirely…

Pidge elbowed him. Or maybe just nudged him. Either way, he glanced over at the ninja for a moment, and was greeted with a silent nod.

"…I understand," he half-squeaked, and then tried to figure out what had possessed him to say it.

"Good." No more time for arguing. The crackling from Lauda's suit detectors was getting louder. "Go." As the other three evacuated the bay, he headed for the engine shafts.

*****

Hydran ping-pong had rapidly gone downhill for Lance and Daniel once Karlina joined the party… and it hadn't been going all that well to begin with. At least they'd gotten one point. All hail the power of pizzadillas, apparently.

Shaking his head, Lance watched the last point sail by. "Shit. We're definitely calling for a rematch… time for a drink first?"

Daniel brightened. "Yes!"

"Not you."

Immediately the kid switched to pouting; Hunk looked up from distributing pizzadillas and grinned. "After that you both deserve all the drinks, bro."

Lance considered that a moment; it wasn't a lie. "Suppose it's his fault if he ends up Jace's guest again."

"Exactly!" Daniel agreed with his most innocent look. "I won't go overboard. I'll be perfectly responsible."

Snort. "Sure, kid."

Jace himself was plenty close enough to hear the discussion, and glowered. "Brennan, we might actually need that sick bay. No beer."

Now he was definitely pouting. "None of you have any faith in me."

"Sure don't," Jace agreed.

"I have faith in you being you," Lance retorted at the same time.

Standing over by the wall, having not been tempted by either pizzadillas or ping-pong, Tarai eyed the young human skeptically. "That's not surprising…"

Daniel blinked, suddenly having flashbacks to Roommate #3—he'd gone through so many of them at the Academy that it had been easier to remember numbers than names. "A Kolaliri being bitchy," he half-mumbled, "that's not surprising either."

Tarai narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything. She was certain the Captain wouldn't appreciate her picking a fight with the annoying space monkey… she was almost certain she'd win, though. Obviously Katrelle didn't have faith in her, either—not unusual—because she shot a withering look over. Tarai was used to those looks, and knew it was usually best to heed them; she shrugged and leaned back against her wall.

"Easy, kid! Kolaliri are all sunshine and smiles once you get to know 'em. Kinda like Baltans." Hunk clapped Daniel on the shoulder, ignoring the identical looks of disbelief from both the kid and the Kolaliri and handing him a pizzadilla slice. "Eat up."

"That's complete bullshit… but okay." He wasn't going to argue with food right now, he needed his strength for the rematch.

Karlina stepped behind the bar; that was her usual posting. "So," she inquired of the human sitting there, "would you like a drink?" She shot him a grin; he was cute.

Blinking, Keith turned to her and hesitated. "Um, just water, please?" He'd heard the tale of Drule vodka in three different debriefings, he wasn't sure he wanted to risk Hydran rum.

"Water? In this place?" The Hydran looked disappointed, but pulled out a glass and filled it. "Okay, if you insist."

Having fortified herself with pizzadillas, Quia headed for the ping-pong table and motioned Katrelle back over. Lance and Daniel rejoined too. "This one's ours," Daniel announced with a smirk.

Quia tossed the balls over with a smile. "Come and take it, then." A moment later, the shuttle was once again filled with the sound of ping-pong mini fireworks.

Standing with Sven near the grill—snagging one of the grilled-melon-something-or-others Carfua was making, and absolutely not eating any pizzadillas—Jace watched the volleying with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't completely certain he trusted the equipment, but they seemed fine so far… looking around the room, he noted a pool table and raised the other eyebrow. "That one explode too?" he asked Carfua, who laughed and shook her head.

Tarai had overheard that, and glowered in his direction. Around here, pool was her game. "No, it doesn't."

"Bummer," Hunk commented from his spot at the grill.

"Kind of a bummer, yeah," Jace agreed with a snort. He wasn't good at pool; some fireworks could've spiced it up. Though he knew someone who probably was good at pool. "Viking, this oughta be right up your game."

"Probably," Sven agreed, eyeing the table. Pool was his father's favorite negotiating medium; he'd definitely played growing up, but he hadn't been allowed to be too good at it. Apparently, a potential ally getting beaten by the senator's kid was bad for diplomacy. At the Academy, with a little bit more freedom, on the other hand…

The resident Kolaliri was not over the idea of exploding pool, and raised her voice slightly to express her displeasure. "If it were to explode it would ruin the game. The players would be far too worried about the explosions to focus on angles, velocity, trajectory… not to mention it would make those things nearly impossible to predict…" She stopped her rant before Kat could give her another disapproving look.

Jace turned to look at her, just staring blankly for a moment, then looked back at Sven. "Totally your game," he muttered under his breath.

Sven eyed Tarai warily. He'd encountered his share of Kolaliri before; she had about the typical attitude, if a somewhat atypical interest in math. "She isn't wrong, though," he acknowledged diplomatically.

She looked him up and down, frowning slightly. She wasn't impressed by the space monkeys, but someone who appreciated angles and trajectory might make a worthy opponent. "Would you like to play?" See, Kat? I can be friendly!

Even if he hadn't, Sven was sure he'd never have heard the end of it if he refused the challenge. But it sounded fun. "I'd love to." He followed her to the table and picked up a cue, testing the weight and balance of a couple of them before settling on one. "Are you any good?" It was an honest question; if she wasn't, he didn't want to totally obliterate her.

Jace had followed them over, and gave him a disbelieving look. "Viking, nobody goes off on rants about pool ball trajectories if they aren't good…"

"Better than most space monkeys," Tarai confirmed. She could already hear Kat's lecture in her head—you really need to stop referring to human travelers as space monkeys—but didn't worry too much about it.

Blinking, Sven looked at the medic next to him. "Was I just referred to as a monkey?"

"…I mean we kind of are, didn't you ever take a biology class?"

Ah, right. "I'm remembering that now." Shrugging, he leaned on his cue a bit and watched as the Kolaliri prepped the table.

"Nice rack," Jace commented as they watched. He had been referring to the collapsing laser-precision pool rack she was using to set the balls up, but Sven 'accidentally' smacked him with his cue anyway. Keith, who had turned his focus to the pool game as well, nearly choked on his water.

Tarai raised an eyebrow at the human, then smirked. Some cultures might have a silly concept of inappropriate compliments, but Kolaliri preferred to accept any and all acknowledgment of their greatness. "Thank you."

Even Jace was a little surprised by that one.

Deciding not to even acknowledge the exchange any further, Sven turned back to the table. "Ladies first, you break."

Smirk. "Gladly. We'll play slop, for the space monkey's benefit…" She aimed carefully and took her shot, scattering the balls. One solid rolled into a pocket, and her smirk broadened. "You're stripes." She proceeded to pocket five more solids with hardly so much as a pause, though she just barely missed the last one.

She is good. Sven was impressed by the shots, but didn't like her smirk. And he really didn't see any problem with slop to begin with, but if she wanted to make his job easier… he no longer felt the least bit guilty for what he was about to do. "Not bad," he acknowledged, and calmly pocketed every one of his striped balls. In a row.

"Porra…" Jace grinned.

Tarai blinked, clearly taken aback, but the smirk returned quickly. He still had to pocket the eight ball, and it was now tucked snugly against the wall of the table, slightly behind her solid. It was an all but impossible shot. "You're not making that."

For a moment, Sven was actually tempted to snark back at her, but he pushed down the reflex… no matter how much he was certain Jace would enjoy it. He needed to focus. It was a rough shot… he silently walked around the table, studying the setup from every angle, then nodded. Rough, but he had it.

Climbing up to kneel halfway on the side of the table, he took careful aim, his cue sticking straight up as he narrowed his eyes. Then he slammed it down, clipping the cue ball with just the right spin. It rolled lazily towards the center of the table, then went into a slow arc… circling around the remaining solid, tapping the eight ball, and knocking it into the corner pocket.

Tarai just stared. "You…" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "…How about a real game then?" she demanded, grabbing the rack.

"Whichever rules you want," Sven agreed with a diplomatic smile. He was certain they'd just been playing a real game, but there was no need at all to rub it in.

"Oh, dude." Hunk had been coming over with the second round of pizzadillas, just in time to see the shot. As the Kolaliri started setting up the pool table, he turned his attention back over to ping-pong. Lance and Daniel were getting smoked by the Hydrans… again. "Okay you know what, we can't let the Viking be the only one upholdin' the honor of monkey business." He walked over and grabbed a paddle, tagging in for Daniel with a grin. "Let's do some swattin'!"

Tekyal had joined Keith at the bar, accepting a glass of something from Karlina and watching the madness with a small smile. It was good to see her people keeping themselves amused… the scene couldn't be more different than the mood on the ship before the Jupiter's Bolt had arrived. "Never a dull moment, Commander?" She raised her glass.

Chuckling slightly, Keith clinked glasses with her. He was still worried, but he couldn't do much but wait for a report. Until then… maybe it was best to just be glad his people could give hers a distraction. "That's for sure."

*****

The pyro circuits were exciting. It was easy enough to hook up a new power cord from inside the engine shafts. But he had to check the wiring on the actual bolts while he was there—it would really suck to get power reestablished but have one or two bolts off the circuit. Engine four had been fine, but engine five had a few wire pathings sheared.

Engine six was outright missing some fasteners. Flynn had opted to replace them, to be safe—the shockwaves they provided were part of the system. The work wasn't difficult. But he could've done it a lot faster if it weren't for the flashing red warning lights; being able to tell what color the damn wires were would've been nice.

The blue flashes from deep within the engine weren't helping anything either. Not one thing.

Finally the last explosive bolt was placed, and the circuit tester for engine six lit up. No time to admire his work. All you now, Vince. He slammed the hatch shut and ran for the containment chamber, hitting his comms as soon as he was sure they would function.

"Kogane, we're launching three engines. Tell Brennan to soak them with the disruptor cannon until they stop giving off gamma signatures. I need Jace over here, he's going to need full protective gear and a decontamination kit."

To his credit, Kogane didn't ask any irrelevant questions… yet. No doubt he'd have plenty later. "Roger that, Kleid. Is the ship secure?"

"No. Danger is removed. Power situation is untenable for a bit longer. Standby."

"Understood."

Flynn stumbled as he flipped the comms off, but recovered quickly. The bay was wavering a little. That wasn't so bad. He knew when he really needed to worry, and he wasn't close to worrying yet—

"—You look like a drunken monkey." Before he could even register being startled by Lauda's voice, he was extremely startled by being tossed over her shoulders. Suddenly the bay was blurring a great deal, but it was because the Hydran carrying him was straight up sprinting. "We're both engineers, we appreciate efficiency, right? This is faster."

There were quite a few responses Flynn would've liked to make to that, and not one of them had any hope of coming out until he was sitting in one cell of the decontamination chamber, dazed and blinking. Lauda stepped into the next cell over and started up the bay sterilization procedures; he finally managed a word, though it wasn't a very useful word. "Um…" Coherence started to return. "Weren't you… outside?"

The Hydran looked at him and grinned. "The other two might have to do what you tell them, but I don't."

As if that were at all what he'd been trying to get at. "…I was just going to say thanks?"

She grinned wider. "Don't mention it."

Outside of the engine bay, separated from the leaking radiation by a massive wall of ferrocrete and lead, Pidge and Vince had no way of knowing what was really going on on the other side. But they had their orders. Three green lights had come up on the emergency panel; a final diagnostic check turned each in turn blue.

"Time to launch. Four, six, five."

Taking a deep breath, Vince hit the first ejection switch for engine four. A shrill alarm demanded confirmation. Pidge hit the second switch, and one light flashed white.

A series of rapid pops rang through the ship. A deep hum came from somewhere beneath their feet; the system's isolated power cells springing to life. A rusty shriek was next, and a jolt, and the jettison light turned a steady gold.

"Engine four away," Pidge reported quietly.

Engine six. Engine five. Vince wasn't thinking anymore. He was working on autopilot, trusting the system had truly functioned as it should, trusting that Flynn had gotten safely into the containment unit—whether or not he'd needed Lauda to drag him there.

As the final jettison sequence finished, and engine five's light went gold, he could hear that the sirens from the engine bay had stopped.

"…I think it actually worked," he whispered, turning and slumping down against the wall. Had he breathed once during that whole sequence? He didn't remember it.

"Of course it worked, mechka." Pidge crossed his arms. "You didn't expect it to?"

Vince eyed him, for a moment too spent to fight down his immediate reflex. "You didn't look nearly that confident five minutes ago."

To his surprise, the ninja didn't even glare. Maybe he was tired too. "…Five minutes ago was before the last jettison system came online," he finally muttered sullenly. "No reason to doubt it would work after that."

Despite himself, Vince laughed.

*****

Ancient and obsolete the Glendenning class may have been, but someone had upgraded it with a very modern decontamination chamber. Jace hadn't been so grateful to whoever was in charge of ship procurement since he'd first seen the Bolt's sick bay. He'd brought over all the radiation treatment he had, but it wasn't a whole lot.

Flynn didn't look too bad. He'd already ditched his vacuum suit—unquestionably hopeless now—and gotten the chamber's neutralization waves working: the tiny particles pumped into the air supply would bond to whatever free radioactive ones were about. The medic was almost starting to think this hadn't been so urgent after all, until he stepped into the same cell.

The detector in his biohazard suit went nuts.

With a new level of urgency, he dug the meds out of his own kit and the chamber's supply kit. "How the fuck are you not a puddle of goo right now, caralho?" The gauge was still screeching. He checked the number, swore a lot, and turned the alarm off.

The chief engineer rolled his eyes. "Do you not read things?" he muttered, sounding a bit tired but otherwise okay. "It's in my file. Same reason I'm on that six month booster schedule we both love so much."

…Unconventionally adapted population, that was right. Jace rolled his eyes right back. "Sure, be snarky with the guy who's here to save your ass, I'm gonna have to stab you with needles one way or another." He found a DRPA syringe and proceeded to follow up on that threat. "Also, for the record, your medical file says 'may exhibit increased tolerance for radiation', not 'is an unkillable freak of nature who could probably eat uranium for breakfast'."

"Don't tell Hunk that, he'd try to feed me some."

Jace snorted. "You're not wrong. So you're feeling okay?"

"Fine," Flynn muttered impatiently. And before he could say anything else, he turned and vomited blood into the waste containment.

"…No. No you're not."

*****

A small group had detached from the party on the Cavalcade, leaving the rest of the two crews to enjoy themselves. No need to worry any more people than necessary until they knew the full situation.

Keith had flown the Bolt to chase down the Farantin's jettisoned engines; Daniel had opened up on them with the disruptor cannon until Cam confirmed the radiation sensors were clear. Tekyal and Karlina, who turned out to be her second, were observing.

Messages had come in from Jace and Lauda in the meantime. Jace reported that Flynn had done "something stupid involving radioactive engines" and ended up very sick. He was going to be fine, but he'd need to be quarantined for awhile to recover. He had not defined awhile, which was a bit worrying, but it could wait.

Lauda's news had been even better: the Farantin was saved. They would be able to limp to the nearest Alliance station with three engines and a pressurized hull seal, they just needed to finish rerouting some conduits first. Karlina and Daniel had high-fived at that one, when both their bosses had ignored the efforts; Cam's shoulder still hurt too much.

As they maneuvered back to the other ship, Lance came trotting onto the bridge looking a little perturbed. "Flying without me, bossman?"

"You'd just finally scored another point in ping-pong." Keith smirked. "I didn't want to spoil the moment, we weren't doing anything that exciting."

The pilot considered that, then shrugged. "Yeah okay, I guess that's fair. This time." Smirking, he started pacing right behind Keith's chair, making as much of a nuisance of himself as possible while the Bolt pulled back into position on the Farantin's flank.

Keith glared, but didn't say anything. He probably deserved it.

Once they were settled, he looked around at the others and smiled faintly. "I guess the party can go on until we get word that your power systems are stabilized."

"Hell yeah!" Daniel jumped up and was gone before anyone else could respond. Lance snickered.

"You and your people have gone above and beyond, Commander, and we are in your debt." Tekyal bowed. "We are in poor condition now, admittedly, but if there's anything we can do in repayment…"

Keith shook his head. "We don't need repayment, Captain. We're just glad we could help."

Someone elbowed him, and he winced. What had he said wrong now? Looking at Tekyal, he noted she did seem a little disappointed by his answer. But then Lance stepped up next to him and coughed lightly in his ear. It sounded a little bit like "Hawkins".

Oh.

"…But if returning the favor would make you happy… you wouldn't happen to have a subspace relay we could use, would you?"

*****

The Farantin's engine bay had become markedly less spooky since they fired the damaged engines off. With the decontamination complete, the normal lights on, and the positive-pressure seal system active, it seemed almost normal.

Lauda was sitting by engine three's wiring access. Now that the bay was clean, they all had their gloves and helmets off; delicate wiring work was much easier that way. She had ocean-turquoise skin and black hair, and features that reminded Vince a little bit of his friend Veronica… if Veronica had pointed ears and fangs, anyway.

She was currently following his instructions on the wiring, which was weird. He still had no idea how he'd ended up in charge of this proceeding.

Finishing up one of the more complicated connections, she exhaled and paused a moment. "Today became much more interesting than I was expecting, how about you two?"

Over at the main console, Pidge muttered something noncommittal. Vince nodded. "More interesting than I like, really."

Grin. "Not one for excitement?"

"I'm really not… but I might have to get used to it sooner or later." He motioned her to a couple of the main cables from the jettisoned engine four, and busied himself with some especially tricky connections while she brought them over.

"Not a lot in space travel that won't turn exciting on you sooner or later, I've found." She plugged the new cables into an auxiliary port. "Though, being stranded in No Man's Land is a whole different level."

Pidge turned from the console and gave her a look; Vince dropped the wire he'd been working with. "What?" Did I hear that right?

"Oh, did you not… I mean, forget I said that." An electric-blue blush came over Lauda's cheeks. But it was too late for forgetting she'd said it. There was a sharp electrical crackle, a spark in the wires—she reached for Vince's hand and pulled it away. "Careful! You alright?"

"Wh…" Every bit of that had thrown Vince off balance. He had heard her correctly, he'd sparked, but… he blinked at his hand sitting safely on the bay floor, then looked up at her with slight panic. "Are you?"

She checked over her hand and shrugged; nothing but a brief jolt. "I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Didn't mean to—not that it was difficult—but the spark—she'd—he'd… trying to get his fragmented thoughts together, Vince looked over at Pidge for some reason.

The ninja looked right back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Mechka, you managed not to do that while we were attached to a nuclear engine in full meltdown…"

"I was too busy then," he sputtered, then blinked. "Wait, huh?" He had been busy. Too busy to even be freaked out. Was that a thing? Is this progress?

Pidge seemed just as surprised. "That actually works?"

"I guess?" He shrugged weakly. "Not sure I want to test the theory."

Looking between them, Lauda grinned slightly. "Happens often, does it? It's a perfectly reasonable answer."

A near-stranger being here for discussion of his little sparking problem sent heat rushing through Vince's neck and ears. "Well uh… yeah, I have a habit, I guess you could say."

She took that remarkably in stride, checking out the scorched wire and selecting a replacement. That was a reaction he'd never gotten before from anyone who wasn't on an Explorer Team. "Like our shamans. I didn't know Earthlings had them."

"Shamans? I'm definitely not a shaman." He paused. "I think." What do you really know about shamans? Never mind whatever an alien thought a shaman was. "What are they again?"

Now Lauda outright laughed. "I've heard most shamans say that, to start." She finished replacing the wire and leaned back. "Shamanism is how my people survived, in the ancient days. They were stranded on a chaotic planet that could barely support life. But they learned to speak to that chaos, to use it, to work alongside it and funnel it into order." Giving him a knowing look he didn't wholly like—but didn't wholly hate—she added, "Hydrans born with a strong affinity for the art often cause… incidents around themselves before they learn to properly speak to the planet."

Vince stared at her for a few moments, taking that in. "That's… pretty cool," he admitted, cracking a hint of a smile. "Though, doubt my sparks mean I could speak to a planet."

"No planets here, no." She laughed softly, then reached over and patted the hand that had sparked. "But much like our shamans, I'm certain you'll figure it out. Your boss seems to have faith in you."

He gave an awkward shrug. "Not sure why… but it's nice. Though, he is kind of crazy." Pidge gave him an odd look at that, but didn't say anything.

"I did notice that," Lauda agreed wryly. "Though, you haven't met my crew."

"You haven't met the rest of ours. Flynn's one of the sane ones."

"They ought to be getting along well, then." She seemed pleased by the prospect.

Pidge was still eyeing Vince oddly. Not sure why… he was surprised by that comment, how familiar it sounded, how familiar it felt. And he wasn't comfortable with it. Finally, looking between the two of them, he leaned back on the console and frowned. They did still have work to do. "Would the appropriate way of interrupting this be saying awwww in that deafening squeal Hunk does sometimes?"

Vince looked over at him and snorted; Lauda snickered. "You sound like Tarai… she's our navigator."

"I'm going to assume that isn't a compliment," he said flatly.

Shrug. "It isn't an insult, either. Just an observation." She looked back at Vince, then down at the mess of cables connecting engine four's power conduits to engine three. "Next engine?"

He'd just barely managed to avoid asking if the Farantin had a Baltan too, and smiled gratefully at the change of subject. And for the earlier encouragement, though he still wasn't completely sure what he made of it all. One thing he was completely sure of, though. "Next engine."

*****

Two reports had arrived in the same subspace batch. One was from Explorer Team 651, and it wasn't good news. They were requesting immediate recall; their ship had been disabled in No Man's Land, and while a band of bounty hunters had come to their aid and prevented a catastrophic incident, Captain Tekyal was almost certain their sensitive espionage mission had been compromised. Colonel Hawkins frowned as he went over the details of the report. It was worrisome, no doubt…

The second report had come in from Explorer Team 686. He'd been wondering when he was going to hear from them; he'd already had some words with the head of the Spinward Garrison about his people running amok on Khoru. The 686 had some words, too. Words about how they'd done nothing wrong on Khoru but get stabbed in the back by a source. Words about how ungrateful the garrison troops had been for their bringing down an elder Najari in their midst. Also an admission, somehow sheepish even in text, that they'd been the source of a recent incursion at the Break—though they'd had no choice in the matter.

And then, almost as an afterthought, a mention that they were sending the report from a merchant ship they’d rescued that they thought might be doing something shady in No Man's Land.

Hawkins blinked. Blinked again. Reread the 686's report, then the 651's, then slowly shook his head as the realization fully sank in.

Explorer Teams…

Leaning back in his chair, he burst into laughter.

*****

Gradam was a large town built into the Onekyh Mountains, on the southern border of the Crown Province. Once it had been host to the finest military academy on Arus. Now it was a barren wasteland, the mountains themselves pocked and cratered, a few scorched walls all that was left of the Gradam College of Guardians.

But beneath the ruins lay something else. A steel and concrete vault housing a single relic: an ancient broadsword, its blade tapering out into a many-pronged fixture that was both graceful and deadly. The elaborate hilt was set with sapphires; the blade was ever so lightly gilded, giving it a silvery-gold sheen. According to legend, it had been wielded by a mighty hero in the War of Golden Revival. Or perhaps it was a replica of such a weapon. Either way, the sacred blade was said to have been blessed by the gods themselves, and had been protected by a dedicated cohort of knights for centuries.

Even—perhaps especially—in the face of the Drule invasion, the Knights of Light had not abandoned their charge. Their final order before Gradam had fallen had been to remain, to protect the sword… and remain they had, despite everything.

But things were changing.

Miralna—she had given up her lineage when she joined, as all of the sect did—was the quickest of the Knights, and was the most often sent out for scouting duty. She was good at the job, and by and large enjoyed it. At least it got her out of the vault every so often. She'd never been so excited to run back into the vault as she was today. "Lord Skoren! Lord Skoren, there's news!"

The commander of the Knights eyed her disapprovingly as she skidded to a halt before him. "Calm yourself, seden. Show respect." She flinched at the use of her rank, but bowed her head in acknowledgment. He didn't speak again until her breathing evened out. "Now, what do you have to tell us?"

"King Alfor is rallying what forces remain to the Valley of Zohar. The runner I talked to didn't know anything more, but both the nearby enclaves are going."

The nearby enclaves amounted to perhaps twenty soldiers. The Knights of Light had twenty as well, and they hadn't run themselves ragged with guerrilla attacks. But they had a sacred trust… "Then we wish them fortune, and we wait."

What? A few of the knights shifted uncomfortably, while others nodded. All of them had sworn their lives to this cause, but whether they served it like this was up for debate. "We can't just keep hiding here!"

"We cannot leave the sword."

"Then we bring it with us!" Miralna looked around the rest of the knights and stepped towards the blade, eyes narrowed. "This weapon was used to liberate this planet from invaders once. What have we been protecting it for, if not to be used again?"

A few gasps ran around the chamber. The suggestion was blasphemy. But then… what was rejecting the call of their king? What was cowering here while Arus crumbled?

"She's right." Alun, one of the older knights, spoke very quietly, but there was no fear in his tone. "What is the blade of an Arusian hero with no Arus to honor it?"

"What if we lose the blade to the Drules? The Golden Gods will never forgive us."

"Unless we are being tested! What if they're waiting to see if we will fight for our own planet, instead of hovering over relics and begging to be saved?"

"Indeed. Would the Exalted Father truly condone turning our backs on the High King?"

"Yes, we mustn't lose sight of that. This is King Alfor himself summoning us."

Skoren was content to key the debate continue. Philosophical debates had not been uncommon while they waited here, though this one had rather more immediate consequences than most. And perhaps that was why this one was rapidly turning in one direction.

They wanted to fight for their king, as every knight was sworn to do. Who was he to refuse?

"Very well. I've heard enough; your words are true. We will go. If we fall, we fall with every weapon unleashed upon the enemy." Taking a long, deep breath, Skoren drew the sword from its stand. Ghostly reflections of gold and sapphire bounced around the vault. The others fell in behind him, their own weapons at the ready.

Finally, they would fight.

"Radiant Warrior, bless our path and our purpose. We march for Zohar!"

*****

It must have seemed like a mad bird chase when he'd first put the plan together. Head off to the barren areas of Zohar, to find the remains of a forgotten temple, in hopes of finding means to possibly access an ancient defensive system. A defense system so old that it was every bit as forgotten as the temple in question. But Alfor had floated the idea to some of his oldest advisors, gathering whether it seemed too mad an idea to attempt. The level of madness, they disagreed a great deal on. But they could all agree it was worth at least looking into. Any hope, however slim, seemed worth pursuing.

He may not have told any advisors but Coran that he would be personally leading the expedition… it would get out, of course, but it bought him a little time. Time to address some details before he actually headed off. He needed to ensure that if this did go wrong somehow, people he trusted would be there for Allura… and Tanner, wherever he was right now.

It took some more time to find cloaks and shields with just the right camouflage. Alfor himself would lead a small group of knights familiar with the area, with every possible means to hide in the sparse environment of the Valley. In time, maybe more would arrive… if this was successful, they may well be needed swiftly. Who knew what kind of attention they might draw?

It was a bit of a trek to get to the tunnel closest to Zohar. From the tunnels they moved quietly within the last bit of vegetation for cover, until it was mostly just rocks with a few dry shrubs here and there. They pulled their cloaks closer, blocking their faces with their shields, moving slowly enough that the motion wouldn't catch any observer's attention; the camouflage they'd chosen let them blend into the rocks easily enough.

Soon enough Zohar came into view, and Alfor exhaled in sorrow. His vision had been of a city, but countless years had passed since what he'd seen. All that remained were a few huts, huddled near an old well set within a large basin. Coming closer, Alfor recognized parts of the well as remnants of the great fountain from his dream. Broken now to serve multiple uses for a smaller settlement, yet he could still sense how it had once been… now he just had to find where the temple once was. But it seemed the years had been even more unkind to the surrounding ruins than the city itself.

The ornate tiles of the pathway had been removed completely; the trees were gone, with no hint they were ever there. Walking towards where the temple should be, he found only a rocky heap beside a mountain. Looking up at the mountainside, he could see what looked like shadowy caves clustered about. Gryphon lairs… he paused, realizing which mountain he was looking at. He knew these lairs well, especially the largest one, and felt a tug at his heart as he studied them. But no, he couldn't become distracted from his task, not yet… he turned to the rocks where the temple had once stood.

Closing his eyes, he focused his energies, remembering his vision and letting his mind search. He needed to know if he was in the right area. Within only a few moments, he felt another tug at his heart… but this one was leading him somewhere. A large opening between the rocks, perfectly hidden by stone and shadow.

Motioning for the knights to remain, he slipped carefully through the crack, finding a tunnel of crumbling stone. He crawled through as quickly yet carefully as he could, just barely squeezing through some particularly narrow parts. It felt like he crawled for hours, though he was certain he couldn't have; in time he found himself in a chamber he recognized. The heart of the once proud temple of Li-ten. Most of the marble was there, but the gold was stripped away. Li-ten himself was broken; the statue was no more. Only the rough, battered form of his face and one hand remained recognizable, resting amidst the rubble.

Alfor scanned the crumbling walls, hoping for any clue to what he was looking for. Yet it seemed that Time had added more items to the list of things it had claimed. Nothing remained here but the ruined statue… Alfor turned to look over the remains, and could hear the voice from his vision echoing in his memories.

Ask.

Bowing his head, he addressed the statue softly. "Ancient one, I am sorry if I lack the means to properly address you. I’m not even sure if you can hear me. But I will ask anyway, for I am running out of ways to save this world. My last means of hope is to awaken the mighty Lions from their sleep. If there is some way you could aid us… any sign you could grant… help me. Please."

With his quiet words, a glimmer of light flickered in the hand on the ground. Upon closer inspection, he could see an outline carved into the palm. The outline was familiar… almost the same as something he'd seen before… his eyes widened slightly, and he reached for his pendant. The ancient pendant that had seemed like the key to this mystery, once… and now the same glimmer sparked along its edges. He knelt, placing the pendant into the statue's palm.

As he did so, a cry rang out from beyond the rocky tunnels.

The Drules were coming.