(On the Hunt) Chapter 21

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 21

Find the Answers

Flynn was quarantined in the back of the sick bay, where nobody might stumble through the protective containment field by accident. Radiation regeneration therapy was well outside his expertise—he'd never cared much for biochemistry. But to the extent he understood it, it involved repairing and 'rebooting' the DNA, then purging and replacing any radiation-damaged cells. That was why it took so long; the process couldn't really kill off entire vital organs at the same time. It was also part of why the containment field was necessary. Apparently murdering a sizeable quantity of one's own cells required some immunosuppressive effects.

Whatever it was doing, it was a pain in the ass. Actually it was a pain in a lot more than that. He ached everywhere, just enough that he couldn't successfully push it aside. And the therapy burned huge amounts of energy; Jace kept shoving mercifully-bland nutrient shakes down his throat. No doubt it was better than throwing up blood, but the thought of weeks of this wasn't appealing.

He was hurting, he was exhausted… and he was bored out of his mind.

Rule number one was no datapad. Electromagnetic fields would interfere with the process; even the monitors for all the wires he was hooked up to were outside the containment field. So a sizeable pile of books was sitting on the table next to him. Half of them he'd finished reading already—Sven's mythology books had been especially fascinating. Half of them he was in too much pain to try to focus on—Hunk had smuggled a damn cookbook in a pile of comics.

Rule number two was no visitors for longer than ten minutes, and Jace somehow managed to appear to enforce it even when he was elsewhere, otherwise occupied, or asleep. Lance had learned that one pretty fast. He'd been chased off awhile ago, leaving Flynn to stare blankly at Hunk's cookbook and wonder if it was worth it.

THE ULTIMATE HEAVY METAL COOKBOOK: 666 badass recipes to crush your hunger into submission!

*This book's recipes are inspired by the greatest metal bands of the 2300s, featuring murder peppers, sugar skulls, and everything in between. Do not cook with actual heavy metals; those are toxic. And more importantly, they taste bad.

No. It wasn't worth it.

As he put the book aside again, some motion caught his eye. Pidge was standing in the doorway, eyeing the cookbook with a similar level of skepticism. Definitely not a visitor he'd been expecting, and he wondered if that should worry him. "Pidge? Something wrong?"

"No sir." The ninja did not ask him how he was doing. Which probably merited a reminder of manners, but really Flynn had been asked that so many times lately he was just as happy not to get it again. Besides, what came next nearly short-circuited his brain. "I brought you something."

"You did what?" Now he was definitely worried.

"Brought you something," Pidge repeated in exactly the same tone, though he looked slightly less confident after that. "I thought… you might want to have this while you're here." He held something up to the faint shimmer of the containment field.

Flynn blinked, leaning forward and squinting a little; his vision was slightly blurry from the treatment. A glint of glossy black rewarded his efforts. What the… he knew what he was seeing, but it made so little sense he had to question his vision. "That's… isn't that your knife?"

"Yessir." He nodded. "It's sterilized."

That was not why he'd asked at all, though this being Pidge, he wasn't sure if he'd been intentionally deflecting or just missing the actual point. "Don't you… need it?"

What the actual hell would possess him to ask that? When exactly did you get hesitant to deprive the ninja of his emotional support knife? …Oh.

Pidge hesitated at the question, looking away for a moment. "I…" He visibly swallowed. "I need you to know I'm not pulling it on anyone while you're out of commission, sir." He pushed the hilt through the field.

If Jace came in and saw that he might murder them both; Flynn took the knife without any further question. He held it a bit awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say as Pidge shifted in slight but obvious discomfort. He really wasn't certain this was the wisest course of action… but refusing didn't seem like it would be any more helpful.

"You're sure?" he asked finally, quietly.

It took a few moments for the younger engineer to nod. "Yessir."

"Alright. Then… thank you." He couldn't decide what to make of this. Did the ninja really care about his peace of mind? Was he just trying to do his job, like he said so often? Or was there something deeper that he couldn't even guess at, something he was missing so far beneath the surface…

Try again, you may as well. Can't hurt.

With a searching gaze that wasn't at all without sympathy, he drew his hand back and cocked his head. "What are you afraid of?"

Like he had before, Pidge flinched at the question. Like he had before, he rejected it outright. "I just want to be a good soldier, sir. Can I do anything else to help?"

Flynn stared at him for a little longer, wishing as always he could find the way through that wall. But he certainly wasn't going to find it in this condition; he sighed. "Not unless you…" He trailed off, something sparking in the back of his mind. Wait.

He had been about to ask if Pidge had any books he could borrow. Specifically, books in Common, given he knew he couldn't make any sense of the Baltan alphabet—the thought of trying to translate it blind was also not appealing. And the thought of blind translation had suddenly, sharply reminded him of something else. Something he had intended to ask of their systems analyst, but not until he was certain he could be trusted.

For all the many, many questions he still had about the ninja, trust was no longer among them.

"Flynn? Are you alright?"

"…Fine, sorry. Listen—come here." He moved as close to the field as he safely could, kneeling closer to Pidge's eye level. The ninja tilted his head curiously, but nodded and approached. "There is something you can do… but it needs to stay between us."

The questioning look intensified. "I can keep a secret. What is it?"

He took a moment to glance around and make absolutely certain Jace hadn't snuck back in on them. Then he nodded, speaking quietly. "Go to my quarters. There's a micro drive case in my top drawer. Find the one labeled 'ops manual backup'."

Pidge took that in and nodded also. "It's not an ops manual backup, kir sa tye?"

"Not a bit. It's a scan of a data crystal, unknown subformat. I want you to do what you can to decrypt it."

"Unknown subformat?" the ninja repeated, coming as close to genuine excitement as Flynn had ever seen him. "Really? What is…" He paused a moment, blinking. "…Is this the crystal Colonel Hawkins said you recovered on your last mission?"

Kid really was smart. Not that he'd doubted it. "None other."

"De chyle…" He sounded strangely impressed. Did he think Flynn had actually gotten permission to have that lying around? "But you don't want the others to know?"

"Not yet. Not unless you find something important." He smiled faintly. "That's a very illegal copy of a classified intelligence resource. If there's nothing useful on it, there's no point telling them something that could only get them in trouble."

Pidge nodded his understanding, then thought for a moment. "Do you want to see the Alliance's official report also?"

Flynn blinked. "Excuse me?"

"We're going to Gliskor," the ninja explained. "It's on the AML."

…And here he'd thought his very illegal copy of a classified intelligence resource was bad. The Auxiliary Mainframe Loop was a system the Alliance employed to guard against decapitating strikes; the entire central command database, classified parts and all, was backed up via secure subspace network on roughly a dozen different planets. It was a highly secretive system. Few of the planets were known, and the exact number was unconfirmed.

He was reasonably certain Pidge had just offered to hack it.

"…That… won't be necessary," he finally managed. "Much as I'm curious to know what intel isn't telling us, I've a fair bit more faith in your abilities than theirs." If the ninja happened to take that as a backhanded encouragement, well, what Flynn didn't officially know wouldn't hurt either of them.

Though the ninja's immediate reaction was just to stare at him. He looked stunned, though Flynn could not begin to imagine what he'd said there that was more shocking than the premise of this assignment. But then Pidge straightened up and saluted. "Yessir." There was a ferocity in his voice. "I won't fail you."

…Huh? Blinking, he decided to just go with it. "I know you won't—"

"—Ninjerk, do you think I can't see you? Ten minutes, I said! Out!"

Pidge didn't even jump; Flynn sure as hell did. "Sorry, Doctor." He wasn't sorry. Turning away from the containment field, he slipped out of the sick bay, leaving his commanding officer staring blankly after him.

What the hell just happened?

*****

Daniel had been summoned to the crew quarters—more accurately known as Lance and Hunk's room—with a worrisome level of vagueness. Murder vines aside, Lance was never vague. His interrogation by text had gone nowhere, and he couldn't help but wonder if he should be nervous. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, but…

…No, actually it totally was that he didn't trust them. The only thing more dangerous than him having an idea was Hunk and Lance having an idea together.

Tapping the entry console, he was greeted by the click of the lock, the soft hiss of the hatch… and a whoosh of flame from inside the room. "Whoa!" He took a step back before his mind put the scene together. Hunk was standing on one side of the crew quarters, welding… something?… very aggressively.

An epic guitar riff sounded from somewhere, and the big guy grinned. "Hey little dude!"

Lance was standing at a safe distance from the welding, a smug grin on his face. "You're here!"

"Yeah, you wanna finally tell me why?" As he asked that, Hunk flipped off the welding torch, revealing that he'd been welding… nothing? Daniel eyed him. "Uh, what were you even doing with that?"

Grin. "Lookin' cool, obviously."

Daniel laughed. It had looked cool.

"So!" Lance walked over, still smirking, approaching something large and metal in a corner of the room. It probably had actually been welded at some point. "Remember what I said about that asteroid simulation?"

"Yeah." He smirked right back.

"Well, thanks to my brain and Hunk's know-how…" The pilot indicated the pod with a ta-da gesture, backed up by another guitar riff. "It's real!"

…Holy… "Wow! Really?" Daniel ran over to the pod and circled it with wide eyes and a huge grin, all nervousness forgotten. "You guys built a simulator? That's awesome!"

"Ain't it?"

"And you get to test run it!"

Pausing by the opening, Daniel looked back at them and put a hint of challenge in his tone. "Is it going to be boring like the Academy simulators?"

"Fuck no!" Lance glowered. "Who do you think we are?"

"I mean, there's gonna be some boring goin' on if you're not careful," Hunk countered innocently.

Laughing, the gunner waved that off. "Sorry, sorry. Had to ask."

"Pfft. Go on, get in."

He'd thought they would never ask. Hopping into the pod, he pulled the straps down and put his hands on the yoke, shifting a bit to get comfortable. That part, at least, was surprisingly easy. "Chair's comfier than the Academy ones."

"You're about to get crushed to help between rocks," Lance taunted. "Figured the seat should at least be comfy."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see." He turned his attention back to the darkened screen. "How do I turn it on?"

"The on button!" Hunk answered brightly.

Blinking, Daniel looked at the console in front of him, finally catching sight of a bright green button with a thumbs-up emoji painted on it. "…People get mad at me when I randomly hit buttons." That was true; the fact that he hadn't seen it was totally beside the point. The screens lit up as he pressed the button. So did Lance and Hunk, exchanging grins that definitely worried him. Just a little.

He shook it off. This was gonna be awesome.

Lance circled around so he had a good angle on both the screen and the controls. Part of this sim's purpose might be sheer hilarity, but he did expect it to be much better training than anything the Academy had lying around. Hunk took a position by the pod's external display.

The first asteroid was an easy one. This pod was built of scrap metal and spare parts, giving Daniel a chance to get a feel for the controls was only fair. It came drifting lazily at the screen, a large and unusually round space rock that slowly rotated to reveal a smiley face.

No question who'd put that one in. Snickering, Daniel gauged its trajectory and swooped around. The sim controls were pretty smooth—not as smooth as the actual fighters he'd trained in his last year at the Academy, but pretty smooth. Hopefully the whole sim wouldn't be this easy.

Clearing the smiley asteroid, he saw points of gray starting to pop up on the screen. A dozen, two dozen… suddenly the entire space in front of him was filled with asteroids, spinning and drifting, and he grinned as he plunged into the rocky maze. This is way more like it!

Punching the throttles up, he shot a gap between two particularly large rocks, then started weaving through an area of smaller, faster ones. He wasn't sure what kind of ship the pod was actually programmed for; it didn't seem as small as a fighter, but definitely wasn't as big or clumsy as the Bolt. Maybe it was the team's previous ship. That was the one Lance claimed to have pulled this in, after all.

An asteroid cutting right through the field he was in, sending the other rocks into totally different trajectories, forced his attention solely back to what he was doing. With another burst of speed he escaped the cluster and laughed. "This is actually kind of fun!"

"Heads up, kid. It's no walk in the park." Lance smirked. "Well for me it is."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Sure, now it's fun," Hunk agreed with a snicker. "Just don't get cocky. You're not alone out there…"

"No hints!" Lance hissed, though it almost immediately became clear the big guy wasn't talking about what he thought he was talking about.

"…Here come my peeps now!"

Sure enough, there was a new wave of asteroids coming in. And sure enough, they all were shaped precisely like sugary marshmallow chicks. "Really?" Daniel snorted, barreling into the swarm, and he immediately almost lost a wing to a quickly spinning asteroid's beak. "The hell?!" Pulling into a sharp set of evasive maneuvers, he got out of the immediate danger and narrowed his eyes. Crap, gonna have to take this seriously. His sim record wasn't exactly spotless as it was… but it had been pretty awesome, and he wasn't about to tarnish it.

Lance snickered; it wasn't really a commentary on Daniel's moves. The peepsteroids looked a lot funnier in action than when Hunk had just been describing them.

Now that he knew to respect the sim, Daniel made it through the flock with minimal further incident. But the sim's difficulty was ramping up again. He was almost immediately greeted with a larger wave of new asteroids, and these were knocking into each other in unpredictable patterns.

Slipping through a hole with only inches on both sides to spare, he couldn't help laughing. "You guys are awesome!"

"I know."

"…Never mind, Hunk's awesome."

"Hey!" Lance smacked the side of the pod, glowering.

Hunk just snickered. "Ouch."

"Hmph." The pilot crossed his arms, watching Daniel getting more comfortable weaving through the rocks. "Don't go getting all relaxed now, kid."

"No relaxing here!" He hit the jets to prove it. "I can't risk my amazing sim record. I beat all the speed records once."

Okay, so it might have been at two in the morning when he definitely wasn't allowed to be there. And it might have been with the sim safeties disabled. So it might not have counted, and in fact, might have gotten him into a fair bit of trouble. But he'd done it!

Unaware of any of those caveats, Lance raised an eyebrow. I gotta look into that. In any case, for the moment, an asteroid field called for a bit more than that. "It's not just speed though, kid. It's precision." Daniel made a vague noise of acknowledgment, but then proceeded to speed through a gap he could easily have avoided, so Lance somehow doubted he'd really gotten the message.

Hunk doubted it too. "Make with the pewpew?" he asked under his breath. Lance winked an affirmative, and with his most innocent whistle he flipped a switch on the outside of the pod.

As Daniel skimmed a particularly large rock, plasma fire erupted from somewhere behind him. "Shit." This had not been in the memo! Though really he probably should have expected it. Scrambling to get his weapons prepped, he fell into evasive maneuvers between the asteroids while trying to find the source.

"Pew pew pew pew," Lance snickered.

Hunk was watching Daniel's attempts to enable the weapons, raising an eyebrow; he really thought returning fire was the correct move here? Oh, well… he exchanged shrugs with Lance, who looked positively gleeful. Kid's gonna learn the hard way.

"No." What was going on behind him wasn't lost on their gunner in the least. "Don't be all amused and giggly, that's not a good sign."

"Dude, it's like you don't trust the people who built the evil simulator." Hunk feigned pouting.

Daniel wrenched around as a shot came way too close, searching for somewhere he could get some room to maneuver. The asteroid field wasn't going to give him that. "No! No I don't!"

"You don't trust me?" Lance snorted. "I'm offended."

"I mean he ain't wrong…"

"Yeah, I don't trust me either."

Finding an opening, Daniel darted through with the unseen enemy still firing. "See? I'm just making smart decisions. You sound be proud."

"Accidents happen," Lance muttered, and Hunk snickered.

"That's what most people say about me being born," Daniel snerked right back.

Well that's fucking stupid if true, Lance mused; he couldn't quite tell if that was the kid's joke-face or not, mostly because whatever face he'd been making was replaced by mild panic a second later. He was still in the middle of a field of giant space rocks, and they were still getting more aggressive.

As for the source of the plasma, well… the original intent had been to program in the Galra ship they'd escaped at Kithran. But it turned out they didn't even have an image of that ship in the database, let alone a simulator model, and 3D modeling wasn't one of Hunk's strengths. So they'd had to go to the stock resources.

There had only been one acceptable option. "Is that… is that the Millennium Falcon about to kick your ass?"

As his pursuer finally came into view on his radar, Daniel found himself stuck in a tiny corridor between half a dozen asteroids. No room to evade. And the signature on his screen was unmistakable. "Fuck." He knew where this was going. "Yes it is." Despite knowing it wouldn't work, he took a stab at dodging, and did manage to avoid the other ship's next shots. It just came at the cost of smashing his fuselage into a giant rock.

The screen went black, flashing bright red words with an image of what, if Daniel wasn't much mistaken, could only be a spaceplane with a tearful frowny face.

SIM OVER

YOU'RE DEAD

Looking up, he was greeted with the two grins he had pretty well expected. "Not bad at all, little dude."

"Yeah, you did a good job. Not all of us can go into an asteroid field and win, but you lasted a good while!"

Daniel eyed the two of them. Maybe he hadn't done badly, but he was still dead, and fuck that. "I wanna go again." He could see the whole run playing back out in his mind, and now that he wasn't in the middle of things he could see where he'd gone wrong. "I should have used the asteroids as cover from the fire instead of trying to evade both."

"Yeah, you should've." Lance grinned.

"Round two, huh?" Reaching over and flipping the pod's reset switch, Hunk let a sly grin creep over his face. "Wanna do a difficulty setting that ain't 'easy' this time?"

That got him a slightly panicked glare. "Excuse me?"

"Kidding! Sim ain't got difficulty settings." Grin. "The only one is 'easy'... to get murdered in."

Laughing, Daniel turned his attention back to the controls. "Definitely gonna be less easy to do that this time." He reached down and pushed the green button, and the screen came back to life.

Leaning back and getting ready to watch, Lance shot a quick glance over at Hunk. "I give him three minutes longer this time?"

The big man considered that. "Three thirty, it's a bet."

"You're on."

"You're both gonna lose," Daniel taunted, and as the smiley asteroid appeared again he hit the jets. This was gonna be awesome.

*****

Whenever Jace had a patient in the sick bay overnight, he slept there too. It was both preference and policy: the Alliance mandated patients be monitored in some form at all times, obviously. He figured actually being in the room was the best option if something did go wrong.

It felt like he'd been living in the sick bay a whole fucking lot lately. Which should have made him happy… he was being kept busy doing his actual job, what wasn't to love?

Like you really don't know what's wrong.

He was sitting at the desk looking at Flynn's scans, grumbling to himself in Portuguese, when Sven arrived to check up on him. "How's the patient?"

"Right on track. He's also a pain in the ass, but I'm pretty used to that." Laughing, he turned around and shot the Viking a grateful look. Scans were not his favorite part of the job, especially when they barely fucking changed from hour to hour.

Sven laughed too, not even lecturing him on his language. "Is there a person on this ship who wouldn't be?"

"You and uh… well… pretty much you, let's be real." He snorted. At this rate he was going to be able to test that theory.

"Seems about right. I brought you a sandwich."

A sandwich sounded wonderful. Even if it was one he'd fixed himself—or maybe especially then. He accepted it and leaned back in his chair. "Thanks, man. Anything exciting going on out there?"

"Not particularly." Sven paused a moment. "When you get the chance you should make more sandwiches, though. We're running low."

That was not a problem this team had ever encountered before. Jace knew perfectly well why it had come up. "Yeah, I've been meaning to get to that. Since someone—I'm sure I can't imagine who, but his name is definitely Daniel—butchered a whole bunch of them." Shaking his head dramatically, he looked towards the back of the sick bay and raised his voice slightly. "Maybe after Tails over there stops pretending to sleep and actually sleeps…"

"I'm trying!" Flynn cracked an eye open and glowered. "Maybe if you weren't being so loud, you going to kick your company out after ten minutes too?"

"Fuck no. Go back to fake sleep."

Shrugging, Flynn rolled over and very theatrically yanked his blanket over his head.

Sven laughed, rolling his eyes affectionately at the banter. "I saw the sandwich butchery. If it wasn't so wasteful I'd have found it amusing." At least Hunk had tried to salvage the butchered sandwich fillings… in a kind of crazy casserole the medic definitely wouldn't have approved of. It hadn't been bad, though. "How long is Flynn going to be in there?"

"Awhile." Jace had said the word awhile an awful lot lately, too. "You can't judge radgen therapy precisely, it ramps up unevenly. But based on his scans, at least a couple more weeks." He rolled his eyes too; it wasn't nearly so affectionate. "Think we can imagine not to have any emergencies for a couple more weeks?"

"I cannot promise anything of the sort." They weren't heading anywhere likely to be dangerous, but that had never meant much before. "I've come to the conclusion that I usually have no say in the matter."

The medic laughed, but it didn't last very long. "Isn't that the fucking truth…" He sighed and looked at the sandwich in his hands. It was still wrapped; he wasn't actually hungry, though he should have been.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine."

That had been incredibly unconvincing, and Sven studied him carefully. Was it appropriate to call him out here, or should he just let it go? Usually he would ask Jace whenever questions about proper 'normal' protocol came up, but… well, why not? He was sitting right there. "Should I just accept your response, or should I call you out for your poor quality lying?"

Jace stared. "You know, just when I think…" Whatever he'd been thinking, he opted not to elaborate on it, in favor of spinning his chair around and shaking his head. "…You know what's the only thing worse than being a medic with no patients?"

That sounded a little like a trick question, though those weren't usually Jace's style. "No. What is it?"

"Being a medic with patients!" He rolled his eyes again.

That… made a lot of sense, really. "I'm sure we all prefer it when you have no patients as well," he agreed, nodding. Jace had always been pretty consistent about yelling at them for keeping him busy.

"Yeah. Then I'm just bored, instead of…" There went another thought he wasn't going to complete. "…This was so much easier in the fucking infantry," he finally grumbled.

Sven narrowed his eyes slightly. His friend was many things; 'subtle' was not even a little bit among them. He was too used to just grumbling to himself. "Boredom seems better, in comparison."

"Fucking truth." Jace looked up at him and blinked. "…The fuck, don't look at me like you look at your maps when they misbehave."

"I can't help my facial expressions." The navigator crossed his arms. "I feel very similar to the way I feel when they, or you, misbehave." Or really when any member of the crew misbehaved. He felt that way a lot.

"But I'm not even actually misbehaving! For once."

"But something is wrong."

Much like he wasn't subtle, Jace wasn't all that good at deflecting. The two might have been related. In any case, he glanced over at Flynn—he might have been asleep, but also might not have been—then stood and motioned for Sven to follow him out.

The corridor was empty, and the medic leaned back against the hatch as it shut. "Dude… it's not even complicated, really." This wasn't something he'd admit to with anyone else; he had a reputation to uphold. "This whole fucking 'getting attached to this bullshit unit' thing was way easier when this bullshit unit didn't keep getting mauled by lizard kangaroos and shot by cute Drules and dosed with nuclear fucking radiation every time I turn around." He frowned slightly. "And getting the worst case of rift sickness I've ever seen, don't feel left out."

Sven was quiet for a few moments, trying to process that. It was the addition of the afterthought, more than anything, that confirmed what was really going on there. Rift sickness had been horrid, no doubt, but it wasn't comparable to the other three in one simple manner… "You're worried about… losing a patient?"

It was so much easier to say it that way than you're worried one of us is going to die.

Jace just looked at him, then shrugged. No fucking way he was going to say yes to that. As if the Viking wouldn't get the implied yes anyway… he got a familiar expression. The one he put on when he was trying to figure out how to be appropriately tactful. That was one Jace knew very well, and he groaned. "Don't give me that fucking look either, you can say it, I won't tell." Because Sven was definitely the one worried about this conversation getting out. Obviously.

"Is that not… a part of your job?" Even with permission, even with Jace, that was much too blunt; Sven shook his head and tried again. "What I mean is, were you not expecting this?"

"Fucking…" Jace laughed. Expecting it? No, he had not expected to get attached at all. He'd expected to do his time, transfer out, and get back to some nice normal unit where this was simple. "…Look, when you're on the heels of a couple whole battalions storming some shithead pirate's personal pleasure palace, the people you're dragging back to dig bullets out of aren't usually your fr…" Nope, nope, nope. He switched to an f-word he was significantly more comfortable with. "…fuck."

That also made sense. More sense than Sven had expected, even. A certain level of professional detachment seemed like it would be useful for the job. But professional detachment and Explorer Teams didn't go together at all. "I suppose that would make it more difficult now," he agreed delicately. Anything else he wanted to say would probably just get him glared at.

"Yeah." Jace closed his eyes. "The one that got me bounced here sure as hell wasn't the first patient I'd ever lost. Just the one the brass fucked with. Maybe I could've saved him if they hadn't gotten in the way. Maybe I couldn't have, but I had a better idea what was going on than they did… at least I'd fucking know." He opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling. "It's stupid to even think 'not fucking again' after that. It's not realistic. It's not the goddamn job. But… it's there, you know?"

Sven nodded. He knew. Knowing what you wanted your duty to be—what you thought it should be—and how it actually played out, could be two completely different things… it had pretty much been the story of his life before he'd gotten here. Jace was experiencing a very different form of it, but the familiarity was there.

What he was not going to even pretend to do was give back that professional detachment. They were an Explorer Team, after all. "Well you've done a wonderful job of keeping us all alive so far." He grinned. "Even with the added difficulty of liking us."

Laughing, the medic elbowed him. Lightly. "Fuck yeah I have."

"And I have no doubt you'll be able to keep it up."

"That's the plan." Frown. "Though if people keep insisting on keeping me busy, you're probably gonna hear more bitching."

"Of course. You not expressing displeasure?" Sven frowned too. "That would be highly out of character. I'd be worried."

Jace snickered. "You know, for as much as you don't like me saying I like it when you're an asshole, you do it really well."

"It's all due to your influence."

"And my parents said I'd never amount to anything."

"At least you're beating expectations?"

"Truth." Turning, he opened the hatch and poked his head in, checking the monitors. The readings were clearly showing real sleep now; he pulled back and turned his attention back to Sven. "…Wanna go for sandwiches? I can toast something. In loving mockery—I mean, memory of the great sandwich massacre."

Grin. "I'd love to."

*****

Cam and Vince were on their way to the gym, and Cam couldn't help but notice how anxious Vince looked. Maybe that made sense; he'd only had so much cause to interact with the commander before. "Relax, he’s not scary. He’s pretty awesome, really."

"It’s the swords I’m scared of," Vince muttered, though the truth was he was worried about the possibility of his nerves making him spark. He wasn’t sure if this was a good plan or not, but Cam seemed focused, and Hunk had suggested he find a way to calm himself. More to the point, he'd suggested this way to calm himself, which seemed… questionable? But then, after his talk with Lauda, he found himself wondering if he really could learn to control this problem someday.

Self-discipline seemed like a start. If swords couldn't help with that, what could?

"I think it’s supposed to help us relax, not be scared. Come on, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting." Cam was doing his best to be encouraging, though truth was he felt impatient. After all the messes he'd been through lately, he needed to ask Keith this. He wanted to be less of a burden, less of a problem.

"Yeah, that is the point…" Vince nodded and they moved on.

Keith was in the gym, relaxing, going through the motions of his katas in a quiet trance. His breathing was even and his heartbeat was calm, but his awareness was not dulled. It was honed as sharp as the sword in his hands, and he heard the swish of the door and the sound of two sets of footfalls. Turning slowly, he noted who arrived. "Starr, Hayes."

"Commander," Vince said a little stiffly, saluting.

Cam gave a small grin. "Hello, sir."

Keith set Raiden down and picked up a towel. "So, gentlemen, how are you today?"

"Good, good," Vince mumbled nervously, shooting Cam a look. Keith was his to handle.

"We’re… good, sir. Um, we’d like to ask you something."

That he probably could have guessed by then being here; Hayes especially didn't make a habit of dropping by the gym. "Okay. What is it?"

"Well, I just want to learn and… well, Vince thinks learning this might help him, but… wouldyouteachustofightwithswords?" Cam realized he was more nervous than he thought as the request barreled out of him at light speed.

Keith blinked. "Um…?"

"Was that in Russian?" Vince asked quietly, eyeing him.

Blushing, Cam shot him a look that said no in no uncertain terms. He got an understanding look in return; if anyone understood nerves it was Vince. It helped him continue on. "Apologies, sir. Would you teach us to fight with swords?"

Keith studied the two cadets carefully. Cam looked hopeful and serious, nothing really new there. But it seemed to be more than just aiming to please him, like he really wanted this, and Keith couldn't help wondering why. Vince looked terrified, nervous, but he was standing in front of him anyway and that must mean he had a reason. "I don’t see why not. But, if you don’t mind me asking, why do the two of you want to learn?"

"Um, it’s been pointed out I need some Zen in my life," Vince answered quickly.

Calmer and with the same seriousness in his eyes, Cam looked at Keith and nodded slightly. "I just… feel I need to learn, sir."

"Zen and just learning…" Keith nodded. It felt like there was far more to each story, but it wouldn’t hurt to help them. He knew his training and meditation given him a lot of strength when life threw him curveballs… and Explorer Teams were thrown a lot of curveballs. "Well, I don’t see why not. Zen isn’t easy to achieve, but we'll see what we can do. Did the two of you want to start right away?"

Right now? Vince gulped air to stave off the panic that caused, but this was the point, he needed help not to let his anxiety take over and possibly cause sparks. "Uh, yeah, sure, why not," he stammered.

Cam spoke more calmly. "Whatever is most convenient for you, Sir."

"Well, have a seat on the mat then." Keith gestured toward the floor mats, then walked over to dim the lights.

Settling down and eyeing the lighting, Vince felt like he knew where this was going, and his shoulders tensed. He tried to relax them and nodded as Cam offered him an encouraging smile. At least one of them was looking forward to this… Vince felt more like he had no choice. He had to try something.

"Okay. Just close your eyes, try to let your mind go blank." Keith watched the two of them settling in. "It's okay if you can't do it right away. Meditation is an art, and it takes time to develop and get proficient at it." He cued some relaxing music up via his datapad, then sat across from them.

Vince groaned at the music. Yes, he'd known where this was going. Now he just felt like he was in an elevator… he gave the commander a questioning look.

It got him an understanding nod, which was better than he'd feared, at least. "The reason I like having the music is that it helps give something to focus on without focusing. Let yourself get drawn into it. Imagine it turning into a type of… landscape in your mind. See birds, trees, whatever the music makes you think of."

Cam nodded, listening to Keith's voice and the music, just letting himself go with the moment. He sat easily on the mat with graceful flocks of birds swooping through his mind. Vince, on the other hand, ended up visualizing himself doing electrical wiring to the lilt of the music… he tensed. That can’t be right. That isn’t what Keith means. He shifted, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

Watching the two of them, Keith could guess at what the uncomfortable set of Vince’s shoulders meant. "There is no wrong way to meditate. Focus on breathing, calming your heart if it is racing, slowing your thoughts. Just… exist."

Nodding, Cam felt himself fall into a deeper sense of calm. Meanwhile, Vince sighed and started to overthink that one instead. I just exist, I just exist.

"If it helps, imagine you're… floating through your blood, or your nervous system," Keith continued. He'd never actually tried to teach this, but he remembered being taught. "Feel your fingers… your toes… let the stress of the day melt away from you."

Vince sighed. All he felt was self-conscious. No, wait, he felt his foot… it was starting to itch.

As Keith watched them, it was becoming clear that Cam was a natural, but Vince looked tenser than when they started. He let them continue with the exercise for just a few more minutes, then hit a button for the music to wind down. "How are you feeling?"

Cam smiled as his eyes opened. "Pretty good, sir."

"My foot itches," Vince grumbled.

Keith couldn’t help the laugh. "Well, scratch it, and then let's have the two of you on your feet."

Scratching his foot, Vince watched as Keith grabbed wooden swords from a locker. He frowned at them, a little confused… though he wasn't exactly unhappy not to be presented with sharp metal right now.

"Okay. These are obviously not real swords, but it's best to practice where you're not actually going to cut yourself," Keith explained, handing them over. It was probably the first thing the young engineer had unequivocally agreed with this whole session.

Accepting the sword, Vince and felt the weight of the wood in his hands and hoped he wouldn’t be too horrible. Meanwhile next to him, Cam was practically vibrating with excitement. Maybe he was just a little bit jealous.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Keith showed them a few different hand grips on the sword and the slow movement exercises that went with them. Cam felt like he’d been doing this all his life, it felt like the sword—wooden as it was—was meant to be in his hand.

Vince kept dropping his.

Scolding or singling him out wouldn't help at all; the kid clearly needed encouragement more than anything. So Keith kept patiently walking him through the techniques without bringing attention to the mistakes, while now and again also maneuvering Cam’s shoulder or arm positions to give him a smoother range of motion. Not that it was lost on Vince who was the weaker link here. Needing to distract himself from how hard he was finding the lesson, Vince paused a moment. "How long did it take you to master this, sir?"

"It takes time." That wasn't really an answer at all, and he continued before Vince could even raise an eyebrow. "It all depends on the student, really. Patience is a virtue, one we all should strive for and master. But, me specifically… I've been immersed in similar training since I was very young. So I suppose you could say, I've been working on it all my life."

"That’s pretty cool," Vince said, impressed and distracted… then he groaned as the wooden sword hits the floor again.

Giving him an encouraging nod, Keith leaned over and retrieved the sword for him. "There are days when I can't even focus on it. We're only human, not perfect."

Vince nodded. "Well… I'll keep trying, would like to be less sparky, sir."

"It’s all we can do, Hayes," Keith agreed, and wondered if he should be asking Flynn for more detail about the sparky situation. It had been in his file, but the Academy had diagnosed it as an 'attitude problem'. It struck him as unlikely.

As he tried to hold the sword correctly and go through the motions again, Vince glanced at Cam, and again felt a bit of envy at the grace his friend was displaying.

Noticing, the commander offered another attempt at reassurance. "Some do pick it up easier than others, but it's not a race or competition."

"I’m my biggest foe," Vince said with a shrug.

Keith placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Give yourself time… and some credit. The first step is always the hardest and scariest, but you've taken it. That is an achievement in and of itself."

Maybe so. He smiled. Keith really was pretty nice, and he felt a bit better about everything as he went back to practicing. Within a few minutes he was managing to hold onto the sword, at least; he felt sweaty, but it was progress. Though he wasn't sure this would ever be something that really helped him. It felt like he was just barely keeping it together.

After a few more minutes, Keith cleared his throat. "All right. I think this is enough for today." It wouldn't do to overtax them. "Just keep working on what I've shown you, and we can do this again in a couple of days if you want."

"It can’t hurt to keep trying," Vince said, then made a face. "Well, maybe my shoulders."

Keith couldn't help a chuckle. "Trying is always a good thing. Just make sure you stretch. You're using muscles you've probably not used much before."

"I don’t use any of my muscles much," Vince laughed.

"Then this could be beneficial for you in multiple ways."

Nodding, Vince noticed Cam had just now finally put down his sword. He looked reluctant to stop. "Cam, you sore?"

The comms officer nodded with a grin. "But it felt good… well, except for the shoulder where I was shot."

Keith eyed him sternly. "Are you sure you were cleared to do this, Starr?"

"Doc didn't say I couldn't. Just said to be careful and stop annoying him."

Well that… sounded about right, truthfully. "Alright. Stretch those shoulders out, both of you. If it gets worse, try some heat to help the muscles relax. And Starr, don't push it too hard too fast. I don't need Doc yelling at me or you."

"No one needs that," Vince snorted.

"Exactly. Okay… I need a shower before my shift starts." Keith bowed to them each before leaving.

After watching the commander leave, Cam turned and grinned at Vince. "Well, I enjoyed that. What did you think?"

"I didn't hate it…" He wasn't sure he'd liked it, but he hadn't hated it. "Not sure I'm ever gonna figure out what Zen is, though."

" I don't know if I'll figure that out, either." Zen wasn't necessarily what Cam was here for, to be fair, but he wanted to learn everything he could. "I thought it was fun. Even if it was a wooden stick."

"Yeah… I did appreciate we weren't waving them at each other. Guess that's another lesson."

"Probably." He nodded. "We've never really held a sword before, pretty sure we just got the basics. Or at least a few of them."

"Yeah." Vince nodded too.

"Well, I think the boss had the right idea. Shower! See you later, Vince!" Cam left, beaming. That lesson had been amazing.

Vince just shook his head and watched him go. He felt a lot of things, but calm wasn't one of them. "See ya."

*****

The Knights of Light arrived to a landscape of darkness. The Valley of Zohar wasn't just the site of a village—nor even only the site of an ancient temple the knights had never heard of. It was the only way to cross the sheer cliffs of the Thunder Ridge, a subrange of the Kyva Mountains that had well earned its name. Storms were more common than not here; the one that was cloaking the valley when they arrived rendered it dark as night, though it was the middle of the day.

Flashes of light pierced the darkness almost constantly. The blue-white of lightning, and the ghostly red of Drule laser fire. Well, one of those the Knights could do something about. They came in at the back of the enemy's ranks and fell upon them in a flurry of blades and war cries.

"Diya Kopora!"

"For the High King!"

"Burn in the Five Hells, sinycka!"

Even their fellow Arusians froze for a moment at their sudden strike on the Drule lines. It wasn't only from surprise. Since the invasion, most of the Golden Knights had been forced to abandon ceremony for pragmatism. Glittering armor and bold assaults had given way to camouflage cloaks and guerrilla tactics. Seeing the Knights of Light appear in full plate and fury was like returning to an Arus that had not existed for months… months that sometimes felt like centuries.

Lord Skoren stepped forward, the blessed sword of the gods blazing with reflected lightning. "Who leads you, invaders? Face me, if you dare!" His Drakure wasn't the greatest, but it was enough to draw the Drule platoon leader's attention. She approached him, slinging her rifle over her back and drawing a blade. A small circle of Drules and Arusians gathered to watch an honor duel seemingly torn from the pages of history; around them gunfire continued to rage.

Ducking beneath a flurry of fire, Miralna broke through the Drule ranks. Her task was to find information. A shrouded figure next to some burning wreckage caught her eye, waving her over; as she came closer, the wreckage became recognizable as a crashed Drule fighter. A body that must have been its pilot was sprawled at the standing knight's feet. She gave it a bit of a kick as she stepped across.

"Blessings of the Radiant Warrior, friend. Are you in charge here?"

He blinked. That sort of formality was long gone, as well. But then he nodded, bowing. "As close as any, until His Majesty returns."

A streak of laser fire cut between them. Both reacted instantly, grabbing the other to push them under cover, and they ended up falling gracelessly behind the wreck. Miralna couldn't help a small grin, though they didn't have time for amusement. "What's been happening here?"

"My detachment came here with King Alfor. He was investigating some tunnels in the rock," the other knight explained quietly. "Our lookouts caught sight of the Drules shortly after he entered; the storm rolled in almost right after that. He's been there for days. We have scouts in the tunnels, but they haven't been able to find him." His eyes narrowed. "But he had a supply pouch, and he knows what he means to do. Our orders are to hold this ground, and we will do so."

With his planet under a crushing occupation and the enemy ceaselessly hunting him, the High King was… exploring tunnels? There must be more to that story, but it wasn't any of her business. They'd had trust enough in King Alfor to bear the sacred sword to this battlefield; this was no time to start questioning. "How many of the sinycka are here?"

"Unknown. They've been coming in waves. The storm has kept their aerial forces at bay, for now." He indicated the wreckage of the fighter. "They seem hesitant to commit melee forces without having full sight of the battlefield. It's been giving our own reinforcements time to arrive, but their numbers are certainly greater."

Miralna nodded her understanding. Holding the line it was, then. Peeking around the wrecked fighter, she could see more Drules arriving. They needed the king… "Where are these tunnels?" She pulled off her heavy golden chestplate and greaves; they would only get in the way. Her undersuit was still tough, and much more flexible. "I'll help search."

He led her to a gap in the rocks. It was dark, and the outer stones were slick; as she moved further in, the only light became the faint glow of the flarestone she pulled from her own supply pouch. It was immediately evident why nobody had been able to find the High King. The 'tunnels' were more like a maze of broken stone, splitting and twisting almost constantly. For a moment the mission seemed foolish, but—no. It was just more proof that her help here might be worthwhile.

As she took one downward turn, she thought she felt a tremor. Thunder? The Drule fighters? Just her imagination in these cramped ruins? Shaking it off, she continued her search.

*****

"No… no, not now." Word of the Drules arriving had briefly frozen Alfor, but he couldn't afford that. Had he achieved what he needed here? He must have. There was no time…

Placing his hand back on the pendant, he felt a sharp jolt, and the room spun around him in a whorl of lights.

Once more he found himself in the temple during its grander times. Sounds of chaos and destruction echoed from behind him. Looking back, his eyes widened as he was faced with several figures in gilded robes: the High Priests of the Golden Gods. Anger was etched in their faces as they commanded their lower priests and followers to smash everything around them. Alfor watched in confusion, the vision seeming to be nothing but an unwarranted attack. The only hint of explanation, he heard muttered by one High Priest.

"Good. Just as it is willed by our Exalted Father and Radiant Warrior."

"This… I do not remember being told," Alfor murmured, watching helplessly as the statue of Li-ten was broken. Soon the priests of Li-ten were chased out, with the followers of the Golden Ones charging after them, calling for their blood. He was tempted to follow, to see what came next, when he was stopped by the collapse of walls and rocks around him. The temple’s destruction was becoming complete.

How could this be the truth? How could he never have heard of it?

"Please… do not lay blame on me," he whispered to the broken statue as the vision wavered. "I…" He was silenced as a light shone out from the tunnels in the rubble. At first he thought his men had come for him, but then he realized that he was in some kind of vision still. These men had not come for him, but for something else. Alfor watched in disgust as they ooohed and ahhhed over the gold still within the temple ruins. They peeled off everything they could see, and were just about to depart when something more drew their attention. Alfor’s eyes widened so far they nearly fell out when he saw… they had taken the pendant from Li-ten's broken hand.

Understanding dawned on him. This was the true place where the pendant had rested. Not where he had found it, stashed among relics from a forgotten time, deep within the dungeon of an old priest’s abandoned manor.

An old… priest’s…

"It was bought from the looters," he whispered. "Someone must have known and hidden this, in the hope of it never being found."

He looked to the damaged face of the statue, anguished. If the Golden Gods had been behind this destruction, Li-ten could only be one thing. But… there were implications there he didn't want to think of, and he didn't have time in any case. What mattered was that his planet was desperate, and his quest had brought him here.

"Li-ten… if what is happening to Arus now is your means to punish us for what was done, I plead to you. Forgive us all, or if You cannot forgive…" He steeled himself. He was the High King, this was his duty. "…let me take the brunt of your anger, not…"

A spark of light appeared as the air seemed to crack open, a form forging itself from dark clouds before him. But the form wasn't Li-ten. The shape of a great winged lion stood before him in the chamber, edged with an electric blue hue.

"Fear not, Royal Son of Arus." A rumbling voice spoke around him, more felt than heard. "I have no anger towards you, or the many children of Arus. I care not for what was lost. Only that it is help that you seek, and here you are… this is all that I can want."

The spirit lion reached out towards Alfor, placing one great paw upon his hand and the pendant within it. A bright light burst from tiny seams along the edge of the pendant, and as the king watched with wide eyes, it cracked open.

"The Storm is rising…"

Suddenly a sharp pain hit his sides, and the vision faded. Alfor found himself back in the ruins of the present day, gasping for breath, puzzled as to why he suddenly felt dizzy with hunger. Pulling his watch from his cloak, he realized with horror how much time had passed during his visions.

Outside… the Drules… his knights!

The ruins shook as he snapped back to what was happening about him. He couldn't stay here. Grabbing a nutra-bar from his pouch before he fainted outright, he wiggled through the tunnels back to the surface before the crumbling ruins could entrap him. Just before peeking out, he looked at his pendant once more.

Opening it at the cracked edges, he could see some sort of key gleaming bright. Another mystery? Lightly closing it again, he pulled himself from the tunnels, finding a landscape of storm and darkness… he tucked the pendant away in his cloak and called out to his knights.