(On the Hunt) Chapter 26

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 26

No Longer Alone

As it turned out, Onygrine was one of the Vex-Cha Confederacy's administrative hubs. Hence the archives and the bounty return. And the remarkably efficient spaceport operations—or perhaps that was a common Vex-Cha characteristic—either way, the Bolt was directed through a tight and orderly traffic pattern onto a crowded stretch of tarmac, with ships arranged via some sort of adaptable grid system that ensured the minimum possible wasted space. It gave the overall impression of a bustling hive, which certainly wasn't inappropriate. The fact that the adjoining city was named Settlement 6 didn't hurt the sense of stark efficiency, either.

Onygrine wasn't the planet's real name, of course; that was something to the effect of Nneeklzznn. It had come by its Common name after transliteration through half a dozen other alien languages. Such games of linguistic telephone were not at all uncommon. Earth's name in Ak-Kila was something along the lines of Rrkkst, and where exactly the k sound had come from remained an open question.

Leaving Flynn, Hunk, and Pidge to figure out if they could actually even get refueled here, Keith led the rest of the team to seek out the Hunters' Hall. Once they delivered the bounty they could see about the archives, whatever exactly that would involve.

This ought to be… interesting.

Not everyone on this trip was coming along entirely willingly. "I know I signed onto this unit to learn things," Cam muttered, "but this mission has had way too many libraries." He wanted to wander the streets and see the local culture, not be stuck poring over another round of probably useless information. But he was the only person on the team who could understand Ak-Kila, and many Vex-Cha—including the Cha-Akor, the second primary race—were physically incapable of speaking Common. His presence was not optional.

Jace snorted. He wasn't all that interested in libraries himself, but he'd wanted off the ship. And really, compared to some of their other stops, this was perfect. "You'd rather have killer bugs?"

"Hell no."

"Libraries beat bugs," Vince agreed. He thought libraries beat a lot of things, really.

"Anything beats fucking killer bugs," Lance grumbled. It felt like the 'killer' part might be important to clarify; they were on this planet to spend a lot of time with bugs, but hopefully these would be friendlier.

Daniel smirked at him. "I prefer the bugs to your singing."

That got him an immediate glare. "I was saving your life!"

"I saved my own life! The only thing your singing did was give me a headache."

Even Keith couldn't help a grin. "Did I ever send that footage to Kleid?"

"Yes, you did, I can still hear him laughing," their pilot answered before turning his attention back to Daniel. "I helped you find your way back, you'd probably still be wandering around Bugmageddon otherwise."

"And we can take you back if you liked it so much," Jace offered.

After taking a few moments to try to find a counter-argument, Daniel supposed he had to concede that point. "Okay yeah, it did. Just…" Even talking about it was threatening to get the song stuck in his head. Again. It had been hanging around since Selech. "Why did it have to be that song?"

"I wanted to annoy the bugs. And it worked."

"Yeah, sure." Jace snorted. "You bugged them."

"Damn right I fucking bugged them!"

Shaking his head, Keith led them to the edge of the spaceport complex. "So, are you all just going to bicker or can we focus on what we came here for?"

"I came here to bicker," Lance said quickly.

"I came to be bored here instead of on the ship," Daniel chimed in, "may as well bicker."

"Passes the time," Jace agreed. "Unless you've got a faster way for us to get there?"

That, Keith supposed, he didn't. So he sighed and continued on.

Once they got onto the main streets, the bickering pretty much evaporated anyway. Suddenly there was a whole lot to see. Vex-Cha architecture made extensive use of domes and interlaced flying buttresses; the streets were actually heavily reinforced walkways suspended over the arches. Every so often, usually at intersections, they could see heavy vehicles moving through the supply roads beneath the arches.

The actual people of Onygrine were, well… bug people. Three races seemed to dominate the population: the towering iridescent Vexakila, the dragonfly-esque native Klizeni, and slim, drab creatures with folded wings that Cam identified as the Cha-Akor. They'd gone a couple of blocks before they first saw a Cha-Akor unfurl its wings, and suddenly they weren't so drab at all—they were not unlike giant butterflies.

Watching a blue-violet Cha-Akor flutter its wings in the sun, Vince very nearly walked right into one of the walkway supports; Sven grabbed him at the last second, shaking his head. The engineer grinned sheepishly in thanks. "The butterflies are pretty."

Sven had to agree with that, truthfully. It turned out giant insects could be beautiful when they weren't diseased and trying to kill you. Next to him, Lance was trying to appreciate the locals, but he still felt creepy. He blamed the Selsandin. Fucking rabid wasps.

Being Earthlings among insects got them several curious looks, though little more than passing glances. Given its status as a bounty hub, the inhabitants of Settlement 6 were probably pretty used to aliens. Every so often they did pass something fleshy or furry. After half an hour or so of walking, as they neared a particularly large silver-domed structure, they started to see a few more aliens clustering in the streets. That seemed like a good sign.

"I think that's the one," Keith confirmed, indicating the silver building. Finding how to actually enter it took a little bit of doing; ultimately they ended up following a burly lizard that almost had to be a bounty hunter, considering the large and slightly bloody container it was dragging with its tail. Sure enough, that got them in… a little unnerved, but in.

The Hunters' Hall was every bit as impressive on the inside. There were high alcoves holding statues of Vex-Cha and even a few aliens, all in warlike stances. Tiny slits in the dome filled the hall with dappled sunlight, mixing with blacklight illumination from fixtures on the floor, causing the soft gradients and mosaics on the walls to glow in places. It was busy, though not inordinately crowded… which was fortunate, considering the whole group froze and looked around for a solid thirty seconds taking the place in.

A large counter stood along the far wall, segmented into a couple dozen semi-cubicles staffed by various insectoids. That seemed like where they needed to go. Approaching the first empty spot brought them to a pearly white Cha-Akor, which greeted them with a series of clicks.

And that was where Cam came in. "Starr?" The comms officer stepped forward and clicked a reply, then waited a moment; Keith slowly raised an eyebrow. "…Translation?"

He blushed. "They said hello. I said hi back."

"Always a good conversation starter," Lance agreed. "I like to add a wink."

Daniel nudged him. "As much as he needs the pointers, we really don't need him to try flirting again."

Glaring, Cam stuck his tongue out at them, then turned back to the Cha-Akor, which had been waiting patiently. Seeing it had his attention again, it flicked one antenna and gave a swift series of clicks. "How may I aid you? Or have you come to aid us?"

"We're here to deliver on a bounty." Cam was being very careful with his own Ak-Kila, and the… clerk? seemed to find it serviceable. "As payment, we want to look into your archives."

"Most excellent. Present the bounty listing and the proof of completion."

Nodding, he produced the bounty listing from Gliskor, then turned back to Keith. "Sir, the cube?"

"Do butterflies even wink?" Vince asked quietly.

Lance eyed the Cha-Akor's huge compound eyes and considered that for a moment. "Good point." As Keith stepped forward and set the data cube on the counter, he couldn't help arching an eyebrow. "I feel like I'm at a bank."

"You probably aren't far off," Cam commented, looking around again.

"Many Earthlings have expressed that," the Cha-Akor agreed. "We do strive for efficiency here."

Eyes widening, the comms officer fought down a mortified blush; he was so flustered he clicked again, even though he was pretty certain he'd just learned he didn't need to. "My apologies, I didn't realize you understood Common. I hope they haven't offended you…"

That earned an amused flutter of the clerk's antennae. "Hunters of all kinds come through here, and many have never seen a Cha-Akor. No offense is taken." Cam nodded his understanding; he supposed taking offense easily would make the clerk's job a lot harder. It took the cube in its spindly fingers. "Please wait a few moments." Turning, it set the cube into some kind of device behind the counter. After watching a screen beside it for a minute, it unfurled its orange-gold wings in satisfaction.

Fortunately there was nothing for Vince to run into; he was immediately transfixed by another alien. The butterfly wings were even cooler than Glis tail typing had been.

Folding its wings again, the Cha-Akor turned back to them and placed a small, circular object on the counter. Cam straightened a little as it clicked an explanation. "This is a voucher to refuel your vessel at our spaceport. They are granted to all those who hunt for us. Now, your other desire is to access our archives?"

"Yes, please." He clicked it again; if he'd had to come do the communications, may as well not half-ass it.

"It would be simplest if I summoned one of our archivists here to speak with you. Is that acceptable?"

Was that acceptable? Cam didn't see why not. It would at least be a start. "Of course."

Giving an odd sort of multi-jointed bow, the Cha-Akor typed a few things into its console and stepped out from behind the counter. "Come, I will lead you somewhere quieter."

That was definitely acceptable. Cam turned and motioned to the others. "It's summoning an archivist for us. We need to follow." He took the disc from the counter, handing it to Keith. "We also get a voucher for refueling, sir."

"Handy," Lance said appreciatively. He was starting to feel slightly less creepy crawly here.

Keith nodded, accepting the voucher and turning to follow the butterfly. "Good work, Starr."

"Just doing my job, sir." He turned away before the commander could see his huge grin; he may have been preening at the praise. Just a little. Okay, just a little more than a little.

Of course, turning away from Keith meant Daniel could see him. "Just doing my job, sir," his roommate mimicked, wrinkling his nose. "Blech." It earned him a brief glare, but not even Daniel was going to ruin Cam's good mood right now.

According to the signs, they were being led to the private negotiation rooms. It did seem like the sort of thing a bounty hunting facility would need. The room the clerk ultimately led them to was sparsely furnished, but roomy and not really uncomfortable. Vex-Cha just didn't seem to make much use of furniture. "The archivist KR7 will arrive in some three breezes… roughly ten of your minutes." It gave its rippling bow again.

"Thank you." Cam bowed back, then looked at the others as the clerk departed. "We have about ten minutes before the archivist… uh, KR7… gets here."

Jace dropped onto a bench; it bounced slightly. "Gotta say, this is not what I expected when I said I'd come with you guys to the library." Of course, the last library he'd been to hadn't been what he'd expected either…

"Not all libraries require bloodletting," Keith pointed out, apparently thinking of the same thing.

Sven nodded. "Most don't."

"Fair point." Lance dropped onto the bench next to Jace; it bounced again, nearly sending the medic flying, and he snickered. The others found seats too, except for Keith, who started pacing. Daniel eyed the commander for a moment, then brought up a game on his datapad. Someone here obviously needed to relax to balance it out.

After almost exactly ten minutes, a new Cha-Akor appeared. Or at least, it looked a lot like a Cha-Akor… except it appeared to be wearing some sort of heavy electronic chestplate, connected to several wires and lights looping through its carapace. Its green and white wings were partially visible, with wires and metal plates accentuating their patterns. When it spoke, it spoke in Common—though its mouth parts clearly weren't moving, and the voice was synthetic and muted. "You are the Earthlings who wished to access the Archives?"

Lance was the first to recover, looking it up and down. "Huh. Butterborg." Daniel and Vince both snickered; Jace gave the pilot a smack on the shoulder, though he wasn't exactly not laughing himself.

"Um." Not even Keith had been prepared for cyborg butterflies. "Yes, that's us." He was suddenly much too flustered to have any idea where to begin.

KR7 did not seem at all surprised by their reactions. "Have you encountered a Cha-Delar before? I suspect you have not."

"No," the commander confirmed a little too quickly. "No we haven't."

"Wonder what gave that away," Lance muttered. Vince had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep down more laughter; this was surely not the time for giggles. Daniel on the other hand was very certain this was the time for giggles, though he at least had the decency to hide behind Cam.

The archivist tilted its head at Lance, as if trying to determine whether he actually wondered that or not. It seemed to decide not. "We are directly linked to the archives. Ask me your questions, and I will answer with the fullness of our knowledge."

"Huh." Lance was intrigued. "Be like talking to the computer from Star Trek—ow!" Jace had smacked him again.

Keith shook his head, wishing he could have Jace deliver an extra smack for him. So far KR7 seemed unconcerned by the commentary—maybe butterfly cyborgs got this a lot—but he'd really rather they not push their luck. They did that enough as it was. "Thank you." He stepped in front of the others and gathered his thoughts. "We're bounty hunters, looking for any information we can find about a planet known as Altea. We've been tracking a criminal searching for a mythical weapon hidden there. Do you have any records of an Altea?"

"Altea." KR7 was silent for a few moments. "Yes, we know of it. Altean traders occasionally come to the great market on Chakuru."

Nearly every jaw in the room dropped. "Fucking what?"

"You have contact with Alteans?!"

"Yes. But they have not been seen in some time… it has been seventy-four revolutions." It paused another moment, tilting its head. "Five hundred and sixty-two Earthling years."

"…Aaand there's the catch."

"That's disappointing." A few nods answered Vince as the team came down from the initial shock. Even Sven's excited eyebrow raise gave way to a more typical one.

"But guys, it existed." Lance wasn't willing to concede defeat yet. This was still the most concrete information they'd been given; it sure as hell beat rumors and myths and vague references to ancient wars.

The archivist cocked its head in the other direction, mild surprise entering its usually flat tone. "Was there a question of that?"

"You'd be surprised," Keith mumbled. "Would you happen to have a location on it? Coordinates, or even a general idea?"

"There is no concrete location data. But we believe it to be in the directions you call 'spinward' or 'rimward' from Chakuru." It raised one spindly limb, and a projector sprang to life. It showed Vex-Cha space, with the planet Chakuru highlighted; it was one of their two capitals, and more or less marked the Confederacy's spinward-rimward corner. "The Alteans never requested a cargo clearance to pass through our space. As you can see, they likely would have required it if they came from other directions."

Sven was staring at the map, fascinated. He'd only seen Vex-Cha map projections a few times in the Academy. Half of him was almost giddy at being able to look this one over; the other half was equally excited to have another piece to the puzzle. Between this and what they'd been told on Gliskor, Altea's possible locations were narrowing down nicely. It was almost enough to make him forget how much he'd prefer a library where he actually got to read things. "Would it be possible to get a copy of that?"

Turning to him, KR7 made a gesture that was probably an attempt at a nod. "I will produce a data disk at the completion of our discussion."

"Produce?" Lance snickered, and promptly got a Viking elbow to the ribs. "OW!"

"Shh. We're in a library, for heaven's sake. Keep your voice down." Out of the corner of his eye, Sven saw Jace giving him a look of appreciation. He could actually hear the medic's I like it when you're an asshole in the back of his mind, and resolved to be more diplomatic for the rest of this. Probably.

"I'm not shouting," Lance grumbled, rubbing his ribs.

"Was pretty loud though," Daniel said with a smirk; the pilot glared.

Considering all they'd been told so far, Vince felt like bickering was the last thing they needed to be spending time on. And he was eager to learn more. "Is there anything else you can tell us about Altea, or the Alteans? Or other places we could look?"

Again the archivist fell silent. A few tiny LEDs chased along its antennae as it did so; maybe that was how it accessed the archives. "There are two known vestiges of Altea which you might find of interest."

"Really?"

"What might those… vestiges be?" Keith was pacing again, though this time it was excitement rather than the usual agitation.

"On our world of Zandrek there is a museum called the Repository of Riches." KR7 projected the map again, with a new planet highlighted. "It has a prized relic in its collection which is claimed to be from Altea."

An actual relic? Cam tried to gasp and give an excited cry at once, which resulted in an incredibly undignified squeak. He covered it with a cough, or at least tried to. "And the other?"

Another dot appeared on the projection. It was hard to tell, the way the map was scaled, but it seemed very far from Vex-Cha territory; it might not even have been in the Interior Expanse. "A distant, uninhabited planet we catalog as 9-XRL. There is wreckage there which matches several parameters of an Altean spacecraft. The site was well scavenged even when our explorers located it, but perhaps there will be something of use to you."

"A ship?" Lance repeated. "An Altean ship? Butterborg, you just made my day."

"Oh we have to go there, right?" Cam blushed again, but there was no point pretending not to be excited. Even Daniel was paying full attention now.

"We better! That sounds awesome."

Jace shook his head slightly. All the bullshit we've gone through so far, and Butterborg just hands it to us. Porra. "Remind me why we didn't just start here?"

Now it was Lance's turn to smack him. "Because our fugitive didn't, dude."

"…Oh yeah, that's right." Blinking, he looked back at KR7 and tried to cover. "Uh, any chance anyone else has been asking around about Altea lately?"

"Way to save it," Lance hissed under his breath, punching him in the shoulder.

"Couldn't have done it without you, caralho." Jace returned the punch.

"Okay know what, next person to hit me gets rickrolled."

"Everyone's being so fucking violent today," Daniel mumbled to Cam, readying the wanted poster in case it was needed.

It wasn't going to be; KR7 had been searching the data while they argued. "The records have been accessed recently." That got a few surprised looks, given the reality of their fugitive, but it continued. "I have no way of knowing if that access was targeted, or routine records re-indexing."

Huh. Score one for Vex-Cha efficiency helping their cover, Vince supposed. Though they probably shouldn't let it go quite that easily. "Do you know who it was?"

"That I cannot tell."

Keith had stopped pacing again, a shiver of excitement running up his spine. "What else can you tell us?" Having finally found a real record of this planet, wringing every drop of information possible just seemed prudent.

"There are mostly market records and observations," KR7 offered, antennae flashing again. "The primary products of the Altean merchants were derivative of a crop called the juniberi. Flowers, fruit, and textiles made from its petal fibers. Occasionally seeds, though no attempts to transplant them to any Confederacy worlds were successful."

"Juniberies," Daniel repeated, shrugging. "Sounds tasty."

It was somewhat interesting information, maybe—Vince looked interested at least—but not too likely to help them. Unless they stumbled across juniberies somewhere, Lance supposed. "So they were what, gardeners?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Unique agricultural products are a common commodity in the great market." The archivist still seemed to be searching the data. "Altean trading vessels were noted as swift and graceful for their size. We know them to have carried light armaments, as with any trading vessel. We have no records of ever observing an Altean warship."

If Altean warships were rainbow cats it seemed like something the Vex-Cha would remember. Hawkins had told them to keep the weapon's name quiet if possible, but Lance was pretty ready to abandon that here. Could they really afford not to try following that lead? He nudged Keith, who was standing pretty much right in front of him, and gave him a pointed look.

The boss got what he was getting at… sort of. "Maybe this weapon our fugitive is searching for made warships unnecessary?"

KR7 considered that. "It is possible. Their file holds no indications they ever spoke of war or enemies, though such topics are not commonly discussed at the great market."

Scowling, Lance nudged Keith a little harder and coughed. "V word!" All it got him was a glare.

"Now who's fucking up the mission?" Jace muttered.

"It's worth a shot."

Daniel rolled his eyes; he agreed with Lance. It was worth a shot. And if someone was going to fuck up the mission, it might as well be him. "Anything in there about a Voltron?"

"Daniel!"

"What?" He put his hands up defensively as everyone gaped at him, as if he didn't know precisely what. "What'd I do?"

"That works." Lance was the only person not staring at him in shock; he just gave a thumbs-up. Which, unlike certain hero worshipping fanboys that he may or may not be sitting next to, Daniel was certainly not going to preen about.

Cam eyed his roommate and snorted. He was totally preening.

Once again, KR7 had ignored pretty much everything going on around it. Vince was starting to wonder if it, like Beeps, was mechanical enough to not be programmed to take offense. Either way, it had been searching. "We do have records of a Voltron. Another race, called the Galra, spoke of it at times."

Lance's head snapped up. "You know those fuckers?!" Jace edged away from him slightly; Daniel followed his example.

"They often came to the great market to trade craftworks and weaponry." The archivist was as unfazed by Lance's outburst as anything else. It was the only one, really. "Although, they have also been absent for many revolutions."

"You aren't missing a fucking thing there," their pilot snarled. "Fuckers."

For the first time, KR7 seemed bothered. "I have only given the requested information. There was no intention to upset you."

The only person who hadn't at least edged away from Lance was Sven, who true to form was keeping his composure—mostly—he was doing his best, anyway. "Can you tell us anything else about Voltron?"

Vince had not edged away either, technically; he had retreated post haste and was now sitting on a different bench altogether. "Any other records, maybe?"

This time the archivist paused for what seemed like an unusually long time. The lights on its antennae danced quickly, them dimmed; it fluttered its wings in what seemed to be agitation. "Those records are missing."

Keith blinked. "Wait, what?" Somehow, with all the revelations they'd had here, that was the most surprising statement yet.

"I do not know." Now KR7 was definitely agitated. "I have not encountered this before."

"Galra," Lance growled venomously. "Bet you those fucking purple pigs deleted them somehow."

"Easy, Lance." At Keith's words, Lance nodded and tried to calm a little—though really he thought he was handling this pretty well, by his standards. Next to him, Daniel did not agree at all. He was adding the Galra to his mental list of Lance no-no topics, right below Bokar.

Vince leaned forward a little, wanting to get the discussion back on track. "Nothing's been deleted before?"

"Not without being replaced and updated. These archives serve our entire domain; we would never intentionally abandon knowledge." It paused again. "The files seem to have become corrupted."

That was something. "Could we possibly get a copy of the corrupted files also?" Keith asked. "We might have someone able to restore them." That was without question a long shot, but if Pidge had been able to decrypt the alien crystal he surely might have a little hope with a Vex-Cha format.

KR7 hesitated again. "No. The Queen Docent refuses permission. The corrupted files must not be touched until we have investigated."

…Oh. Keith sighed. He supposed it was reasonable. "We understand."

"I am sorry." The synthetic voice did sound like it might actually be sorry. "But her word is final."

"It's okay, Butter… uh, KR7." Vince grimaced. Eeesh, Vince. So much for trying to be reassuring.

"What you've given us is already incredibly helpful," Keith agreed. "If we can get copies of the other information, we'd appreciate it."

"Of course." There was a soft whirring and clicking sound, and the archivist pulled a disk from a slot on its chestplate. "This holds the data accessed during our discussion. And if you wish to leave contact information for either you or your employer, I can request that the Queen Docent relay anything of use that may come from our investigation."

Vince stared eagerly at the disk; it held actual useful information. It almost seemed too good to be true. Sven was equally eager—in fact, to his own surprise, he was feeling impatient to leave. He wanted to get back to the ship. There were alien maps to interpret, routes to plan and solidify, and he was ready to get to it.

Of all people, Jace nudged him to calm him down; he could recognize their navigator's impatience when he saw it. "Easy, Viking." Blinking, Sven scolded himself and settled a bit. They did seem to be wrapping things up here.

Keith was considering the question of contact information. The ploy they'd used with Manset was hardly viable here… then again, unlike an independent smuggler, the Vex-Cha had actual diplomatic channels they could utilize. "If you could relay such a message to Colonel James Hawkins of the Alliance, he'll see that it gets to us."

There were a couple of faint beeps as KR7 recorded that. "I shall do so. Hopefully the information you have will help you until then."

"I think it will. Thank you." Keith turned back to the others. "Let's head back so we can get the ship refueled." He'd sent a message about the voucher while they were waiting for the archivist, but hadn't checked for a response. Flynn was probably pretty annoyed with him by now.

Hopping up off the bench, Jace patted Sven on the head and smirked. "C'mon Viking, you'll have your nav charts soon enough." Sven rolled his eyes, but couldn't argue the point. He really did want his charts. Grinning at the exchange, Vince joined the two of them, still giving Lance a wide berth.

Standing up was about when Lance finally noticed everyone else had backed off. Sighing, he shrugged it off; he was still angry, and he had good reason to be. As Cam and Daniel headed out, he trailed behind them, KR7 bringing up the rear.

"Earthling," the archivist commented abruptly, "if it was not clear, I was quite amused by the 'Butterborg' nickname."

…No, that certainly had not been clear, and it actually shocked Lance into calming slightly. Not least because it still didn't sound even remotely amused. "Um, good! Glad it didn't bug you." Turning, he almost automatically shot the Cha-Delar a wink. After a moment's hesitation, the light panels on one of KR7's eyes dimmed briefly.

Despite his foul mood, Lance laughed. Apparently some butterflies winked after all.

*****

Once they were back on the streets of Settlement 6, Keith paused and looked back at the Hunters' Hall with a thoughtful frown. He'd stopped a bit abruptly; Sven and Jace bumped into him, then Vince and Cam bumped into them, and Lance ran into all of them. In fact, the only person who didn't end up in the pileup was Daniel… somehow… despite the fact that he was playing a game on his datapad while walking.

"Why are we standing?" Lance asked, frowning too.

"Yeah, the Viking is experiencing map withdrawal."

Sven rolled his eyes as Jace grinned. "I am not." It was immediately clear nobody believed him, and he decided not to bother arguing the point. It would only be a losing battle.

"Something's just bothering me." Keith spoke slowly, feeling his way. "It's too convenient. Every reference to Voltron is corrupted?"

"Wonder how that could've happened," Lance snorted.

The commander shot him an irritated look. "I know, but if them, why? We know we aren't the only ones searching. Do they know they aren't the only ones searching? And why only Voltron, but not Altea?"

"Maybe they don't know about Altea," Jace suggested. "It was on the crystal we yanked from under their noses."

"Maybe." Keith shook his head. "And then there's the Vex-Cha knowing the Galra at all—trading with them, even?" Hawkins had definitely not made it sound like they did much in the way of peaceful exchange. "I keep thinking about the Drules on Dradin…"

Cam winced at that. He would prefer not to think about the Drules on Dradin ever again. "You think they're more common around here?" He looked around. "But… KR7 said they haven't been seen for a long time. I mean, look around—we're the oddballs here. They would definitely stick out too."

Eyeing a passing bug-person that looked something like a humanoid spider—complete with wispy vestigial limbs trailing from its shoulders and waist—Jace arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "Is anything really weird enough to stand out around here?"

"Uh, no?" Vince followed his gaze. The spider was way creepier than the butterflies.

"Any non-insectoid being seems to be fairly odd on this planet," Sven countered. Which wasn't wrong, though as they'd seen, the Hunters' Hall did attract all types.

Nodding, Keith turned and started leading the group back to the spaceport. He was still uneasy, but there wasn't much to be done about it right now. They could speculate all day; they'd be no closer to knowing the answers.

"They're probably sneaky motherfuckers anyway," Lance snorted, not ready to let it go. "Whatever, the point is the fucking Galra obviously corrupted the files! Would they even need to land to do it?"

Not knowing the details of the Vex-Cha archive system, nor of Galra tech in general, Vince couldn't answer that with any certainty. But he had a pretty strong suspicion. "They'd probably have to?" He really wasn't sure he should even be getting Lance's attention right now. Their pilot sounded ready to kill. He may actually not have gotten his attention; he was busy cursing under his breath.

Jace eyed the young engineer and shook his head slightly. "Forget it, he's rolling…" As he spoke, a huge Vexakila crossed in front of them, and he briefly contemplated the fact that any one of the giant jewel-bugs could just as easily be some furry purple fucker in a bug suit. Theoretically. Okay, probably not, but still. A little healthy paranoia in a place like this had never hurt anyone… much.

Between the healthy paranoia and the fact that the Vex-Cha really were interesting, he suddenly found himself staring at what looked damn near identical to a Selsandin, except most of its chitin was blue instead of red. It noticed him watching him and waved a wing, clicking something that sounded as upbeat as clicking could get. Porra… he tossed a weak salute and looked away, blinking. That had been freaky.

Vince was also looking around, still trying to take in everything at once. The fascinating aliens around them would have been giving him a serious case of the shinies even if they weren't literally shiny. Behind him, Sven was alternating between watching their surroundings and watching their electrical engineer, a small grin on his face. Cam was just trailing quietly, trying not to get himself in trouble. And Daniel, well… his datapad games weren't going to play themselves.

He was not watching where he was going. Nor was a scraggly little wren-like alien coming down an intersecting street, its head turning nearly a full 180 degrees as it tried to read a sign. One moment Daniel was running a virtual car off the road; the next he was running smack into something quite solid.

Looking up, he caught sight of a beak and feathers and jumped back with a screech, dropping his datapad. "Mother of fuck!" His mood was not improved in the least when the wren screeched too, catching his datapad before it could hit the ground and dusting it off with its feathers. Cawing frantic apologies in broken Common, it held the device out to him.

Daniel backed away and promptly ran into someone else. This time it was just Lance—the noise had been enough to snap him out of his Galra-induced fog of rage. "Whoa, kid, it's fine."

Fine. Yeah. Sure. It was fine. Staring at the bird, Daniel tried to calm down. Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, fuck! You're panicking.

"You alright?" Cam asked, patting his shoulder and moving up to address the alien—someone had to handle this. "Sorry about him. He's uh, wound kind of tight."

"Many sorries also, very careless, very sorries!" It offered Cam the datapad instead.

Daniel was trying to get things back under control. The little wren alien had such a cute, downy, innocent face—exactly the kind of face he saw in his worst bird nightmares. Lance squeezed his other shoulder as he tried to back up further. "Breathe, kid."

"I am breathing!" He watched Cam accept the datapad, and the wren apologized a few more times before rushing off. "Why the fuck is there a bird on a bug planet?"

"Why the fuck are there panicky monkeys on a bug planet?" Jace retorted, looking around. The commotion had drawn a bit of a crowd; he waved them off, wishing he knew how to click what the fuck are you looking at. "You can all buzz off, it's just some boring ornithophobia."

"Probably visiting, just like us." Lance grinned. "Maybe it's a bounty hunter too." It hadn't really looked suited for bounty hunting, but then again, the 686 had Vince.

"Oh, great. That's what the universe needs, a bird bounty hunter." Daniel was finally getting his composure back as the alien vanished into the crowds. "When did my life turn into a really bad Sesame Street knockoff?"

That got a laugh. "You're just lucky, kid."

Flipping Lance off, Daniel finally noticed the onlookers, and felt his face going bright red. "Can I have my datapad back? Please?" He needed to hide behind it now.

"It said it was sorry. Several times." Cam handed the datapad back. "Maybe watch where you're going?"

"Yeah… maybe."

Keith and Sven had been standing back a bit to keep the crowds—first traffic and then gawkers—at bay, letting Daniel have some space to recover. With things seeming to have settled, the onlookers were dispersing, though Jace was still trying to hurry them along. "I said move it, people, we've got a hysterical monkey coming through."

"I'M NOT HYSTE—" Daniel blinked. That wouldn't even have convinced him. "…Whatever."

Shaking his head, Keith found a gap opening up in the crowd and headed in that direction. "Come on, let's get back."

"Yeah, let's."

"That would be best."

Noting their gunner was still flushed bright red, Cam stepped up next to him and patted his arm. "You're going to be okay, Daniel."

He was trying to be nice. Daniel knew he was trying to be nice. Part of him probably even appreciated the effort. Most of him, though, would have been much happier forgetting that had happened and never speaking of it again; it made him more than a little snippy. "I'm not a fucking child."

Lance and Jace exchanged looks, trying desperately not to laugh. Even Keith bit down a small snort of amusement.

Being on the receiving end, Cam didn't find it so funny; he stepped back, a little wounded. "Fine. Be that way."

Well fuck. Now Daniel found himself feeling guilty, an outcome he would have thought was impossible. "Sorry," he mumbled, and buried his face in his datapad again. This time he was at least trying to keep one eye on what was in front of him.

The whole group was being a bit more vigilant now. As he glanced around the streets, Jace caught sight of another of the blue Selsandin things. Even knowing it was irrational, he instinctively watched it as they passed by… which led to him catching sight of something behind them that seemed very out of place. It wasn't any sort of Vex-Cha. It was a humanoid in a bulky black coat and hood, with round eyes and mouth markings that glowed a deep purple. Maybe it was just because of their surroundings, but it made him think of someone who'd never actually seen a bug trying to dress up as a bug.

More to the point, it was distinctive. And it had definitely been in the crowd Daniel had attracted earlier.

He started making a point of staring at passing bugs, which wasn't really too out of character; he'd been doing that anyway. Every couple minutes he would catch a glimpse of glowy purple bugface again. It was walking casually, yet it seemed to be matching their pace too perfectly. Maybe it was just going back to the spaceport, and just happened to walk at the same speed as a band of wandering humans. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

As they stepped from the city's walkways to the crowded lower streets bordering the spaceport, the group paused for a few moments to get their bearings. Glowy bugface behind them stopped too. Okay. Healthy paranoia it is. "Can we pick it up? We're not gonna make it back by six." That precise phrasing had a very precise meaning: he'd picked up someone following them, currently in the six o'clock position.

Of course, nearly the second he said it, he remembered the rest of his team was a bunch of tin can jockeys who'd probably never taken urban theater training. Keith was the first to prove it. "I didn't realize Kleid put a curfew on us…?"

"Dude, what do you mean six? It's like eight?"

"Yeah. 7:38 Garrison Standard, to be exact."

Sven eyed his confused teammates, then Jace, and checked the time himself. Sure enough, it was well past six. Something was up… he only became more certain of that when Jace sighed in exasperation. "Guess my watch is off." Sven had never once known the medic to actually wear a watch. Something about it getting in the way if he had to do anything serious. "Anyway, can we pick it up? Who knows what we're missing."

As a code phrase, that meant he didn't know where their tail was, which was not at all accurate. But it was an attempt… though he wasn't too sure why he was trying it again.

Sure enough, all it got him was more confusion. "Are you being weirder than usual?" Lance asked.

Cam leaned over and whispered in Vince's ear, since he was still giving Daniel a little distance. "Doc must have some hot date in sick bay, huh?"

Rather than laughing, the engineer gave him a slightly horrified look. "…I don't want to know."

Only Sven seemed to have picked up that something was wrong. Though what, he wasn't clear on. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head, Jace took another look around. The area around the spaceport was full of shops catering to offworlders; they weren't too far from some kind of corner cafe, and its patrons looked to be almost exclusively non-insectoid. There was even a large sign proudly advertising that it accepted alcreds and other alien currency. Perfect. "Maybe a little dehydrated. C'mon, let's go get a drink."

Daniel, who really wanted to get back to the ship so he could hide in his room and sulk, gave him a weird look. "I thought we had to get back to the ship?" The medic smacked him on the back of the head. "Ow! Why is everyone so fucking abusive today?"

Lance eyed him. He could guess what was on the kid's mind. "I'll let you order a beer, kid."

Immediately his eyes lit up. "I guess a drink sounds okay."

Though he had no real idea what was going on, Keith couldn't help noticing that their medic hadn't cursed once in this whole sequence. That was enough to have him suspecting something was up, too. "Alright. Let's get a drink." He led them over to the cafe, though it was Jace who picked out the table—far from the street, next to a crowd of very loud, fuzzy creatures that he couldn't identify.

As they sat, the medic glowered around the table and hissed beneath the racket next to them. "Don't you fuckers know basic codewords?"

Sven raised an eyebrow; now that sounded more like Jace. "What?"

"No, I didn't go to spy school," Lance snorted. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"We're being followed."

"…What?"

"Oh."

"Fuck."

Nothing triggered the urge to look around quite as quickly as the words we're being followed; Lance and Daniel were both visibly fighting it down. Cam suppressed it as best he could and lowered his voice. "How do you know?"

"Eyes," the medic retorted; Lance laughed.

Keith crossed his arms on the table, nodding slowly. "Do you see them now?"

"No." He could see most of the cafe from the seat he'd chosen, and their tail had definitely not come in for a drink. "Where's the ninja when we need him?"

"Is it Galra?" Lance asked darkly.

"Can't tell. They're big and humanoid and they've got a glowing face." Considering the size and builds of the Galra they'd seen on Kithran, he lowered his voice a little further. "Wouldn't bet against it."

Nodding, Lance barely fought down the urge to grab his gun. Daniel noticed his fingers twitching. Uh oh…

"Glowing face?" Vince repeated. All it got him was a shrug, which he supposed was fair. A glowing face was a glowing face. Then something moved next to him and he jumped; it turned out to be a large blue Klizeni bearing a tray of water. He'd momentarily forgotten where they actually were.

Cam stepped in smoothly, clicking a thanks and requesting some beers. "Anyone want anything other than beer?"

"Order something to munch on," Keith instructed, frowning slightly.

That ought to be interesting. Asking what they had to eat got him a list of things the Klizeni claimed were Earthling food, though none of them sounded exactly familiar… after a moment's thought he put in an order for 'crispy potato legs' and hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Sipping his water—he actually had been kind of thirsty—Jace turned his attention to Keith and lowered his voice even more. "Boss, unless I'm wrong and this guy's not there when we leave, they kinda trained us to ambush a tail, not shake it. Don't suppose any of you people who don't know urban theater code know urban theater stealth?"

"I took one semester of musical theater," Lance offered; the medic gave him a look of disbelief.

"Failed it, right?"

"Hooked up with the director." He'd accomplished exactly what he'd intended to. "Anyway, I know how to shoot."

"I can't shoot," Sven said matter of factly, "but I'm adept at stabbing."

"I can be sneaky if I have to." Keith frowned. "It's not my preference, and I'm better at tracking than being tracked."

Vince stared at his water, trying to think of any helpful skills he might have for this situation. "I'm… underprepared."

Though Daniel probably had at least something that could help here, he was way more interested in Jace's original phrasing. "I dunno, I kind of want to see Doc shake his tail."

Lance snorted so hard water went up his nose. "Ow, fuck."

"You want to see him what?" Cam demanded.

Smirk. "You heard me."

"I'd rather not have."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," Jace fired back.

"Not that kind of doctor," Keith mumbled into his glass, "just one that hires hookers…"

"Boss, if you don't stop insulting the honor of my hookers…" Jace waved his glass threateningly. "But if you must know, I'm not the one doing the tail shaking in those situations."

"You… have hookers?" Cam asked in a voice that was more of a squeak than anything. There were a lot of mental images running through his head, and not a single one he actually wanted.

"Dude, where have you been?" Daniel snorted, then grinned as he saw their server approaching. The bickering and innuendo had righted his world from the earlier embarrassment; the beer would just be the cherry on top.

'Crispy potato legs' turned out to be french fries. Perfect golden french fries sprinkled with salt and just a hint of seasoning. Vince immediately started to stress munch; the preceding conversation had him convinced it was by far the safest option. Lance grabbed a beer and was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't half bad. He wondered if bugs did microbrewing.

Taking another long drink of his water, Jace waited for the Klizeni to be well out of earshot before leaning forward again. "Speaking of hooks, are we saying the ambush is plan A?"

"Is it?" Lance thought an ambush sounded like a wonderful idea, especially if it resulted in him getting to punch a Galra in the face. Preferably with bullets.

"Well I'm pretty sure we don't want to lead them back to the ship…"

"No."

"No, that would be a bad idea."

"…so if we're gonna get them off our tail, think we just established which option's gonna work best."

"Probably." Keith took a french fry and looked around with his best just a tourist expression. But he was carefully taking in every inch of their surroundings. "We're going to be at a disadvantage, not knowing the lay of the land."

Jace nodded, considering tactics. This was going to be quick and dirty—they didn't have the information or the training to do it any other way. "We just need somewhere quiet… and we need to be a bunch of idiots not watching what we're doing." He smirked. "Half of that won't be hard."

"Find an alley out back?"

"Enclosed area would be better." Frown. "It's a fucking spaceport, it can't be that hard to find a warehouse or something."

Cam snagged Daniel's datapad and found a link into the spaceport's information channel. "There's a big general-purpose hangar about halfway between here and the Bolt…"

"Hey!" Daniel glowered as the game he'd been about half paying attention to disappeared. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to just snatch things?"

What very few lessons Cam had ever learned from his parents were neither helpful nor relevant here; Gran might not have approved, in fairness. "We needed information," he said defensively, "and you weren't using it for anything productive."

"You could've been a normal person and, oh I don't know, asked me for it?"

"That would've been the polite thing to do," Sven agreed absently, then nearly choked on his water as he realized he'd just agreed with Daniel on manners.

"This is kind of an emergency, isn't it?" Cam protested.

Daniel snorted. "Yes, and if you'd used your manners we would've saved all the time this lecture has taken up."

"Oh, like we were saving time talking about Doc shaking his tail?"

"Starr. Brennan." Keith felt a headache coming on. "Please?"

"Kogane. Please?" Daniel matched his tone perfectly. "We're having a conversation. Rude."

This time it was beer Lance snorted up his nose. Staring at Daniel in disbelief, Keith opted for the day's other main form of behavioral modification and smacked both kids on the back of the head. "That's enough, boys.”

"Owww… sorry sir."

"Ow… wait, I'm not saying sorry! It was rude."

"I mean, you're the expert on that, I'll buy it." Jace leaned back in his chair. There was still no sign of glowy bugface, not that he'd expected there to be. The slim possibility remained that they weren't actually being followed at all—that it had all been a coincidence, and they'd just had beer and fries and learned an important lesson about operational codes for no reason.

He was certainly not going to count on that.

"So what exactly is the plan?" Sven asked once he was confident all the tomfoolery had settled down.

Keith frowned. "We're going to nonchalantly walk out of here and head for that hangar…" He looked at Jace.

"Glowy bugface follows us—or doesn't—and jumps us because we've left ourselves vulnerable—or doesn't—and if they just keep following us, we turn around and wing them with a to-go cup and draw a lot of guns." Shrug. "We'll get to a result we want some way or another."

It was as good a plan as any, the commander supposed. "Everyone got that?"

"Yep."

"Yes sir."

"Yeehaw." Lance sounded more edgy than gleeful this time; he was really hoping this would come down to guns.

When he'd signed on for military engineering, this was definitely not what Vince had been anticipating. Looking around at his teammates and considering Hunk's absence, he resolved to hide behind Sven if needed. It had worked for Beeps.

Their server returned after another couple of minutes. Jace ordered a soda to go, something nice and acidic. As they paid the Klizeni, it offered a farewell in rough but understandable Common. "Have a pleasant and safe stay on Onygrine, Earthlings."

Lance's Galra face reflexively gave way to a charming smile and a wink. "Thank you."

"Hey," Cam objected as they prepared to head out, "no flirting on the mission, remember?"

Was I? Shrugging, he clapped the kid on the shoulder. "That's just for you."

Daniel was scowling as they headed out. All my hard work to keep his stupid flirting secret for nothing. His scowl deepened as Cam draped an arm across his shoulders—though he didn't protest, he had been a dick earlier.

"Come on, bud. Let's get you back to the ship."

"What the fuck are you doing?" he muttered. It was kind of hard to walk like this.

"Just looking out for you." Cam pulled him a little tighter, which was exactly the opposite of what he'd been wanting. In a display of remarkable new restraint, he shot his roommate a look that clearly said if he didn't let go right now he was going to be a dick again; Cam did not appreciate the warning one bit, patting his arm. "Relax, bud. I'll make you some toast when we get back."

"Oh get off me," Daniel grumbled, lightly shoving him away.

"Hey!" Cam stumbled and nearly fell over. "I know you feel bad, but take it easy!" Coming closer again, but wisely not touching this time, he hissed, "I'm trying to keep up appearances, would you play along?"

Keep up what appearances? For a moment he was extremely confused as well as irritated, then suddenly it hit him. "…Dude, chill, I've been blessed by the healing powers of bickering and beer. Just keep an eye out for birds if you want to look out for me."

"Oh." Cam looked a little disappointed, but nodded. "Okay then."

Speaking of keeping up appearances… Lance fell in beside Jace. "Anything?"

"Get behind me and say something dickish so I have to look back at you," the medic murmured back. He hadn't gotten an excuse to look behind them yet—most of the foot traffic was going their way, and the few side streets they'd passed so far had been closed off.

Nodding, Lance slowed his pace until he was walking next to Vince… who was slinking behind Sven, much to the navigator's bemusement. He gave it another moment before calling out. "Hey, assface!"

Jace looked back at him and snorted. "Talking to yourself again?" There. Glowy bugface was surprisingly well camouflaged among the crowd's riot of shimmering colors, but for a split second he'd seen it… it wasn't even doing anything to avoid their notice, though that made some sense. On these crowded streets, trying to duck away would be the more suspicious move.

Smirking, Lance watched the medic carefully, trying to sense if he'd seen anything. "I mean, you answered." So far there was no indication.

"Because I don't think you should talk that way about yourself."

"You? Think?"

"Damn fucking right I do."

"I don't buy it."

"You're entitled to your wrong opinion."

Daniel eyed them, frowning slightly. This felt like a sad imitation of their usual bickering, somehow… he really preferred the real thing. Hopefully he and Cam hadn't sounded so inauthentic.

"Turn around, dude, I'm tired of seeing your face."

There was the opening. "Yeah well, I don't wanna see yours either… but whoever's behind you has to see your ass so I'm definitely better off."

"My ass is spectacular! You smoking the meds meant for the patients again?"

Vince grimaced and moved a little closer to Sven; he was certain this exchange meant they were in fact being followed. Sven himself had come to the same conclusion, though he was preoccupied rolling his eyes at Lance's snark. So far, the plan was working perfectly…

Almost too perfectly, Jace mused as they stepped around some kind of minor streetfight. A few humanoids were yelling about an attempted theft. The conflict had spilled into an intersection, leaving only one path clear. Fortunately, like the blocked streets earlier, the one path was the one they needed to take. "Smoking is only for terminal cases. You wanna fucking arrange one?"

"Doc, I wouldn't ever want to be terminal around you."

"I wouldn't want you to be either!" Which was actually true for several reasons, so he decided to add a little extra hostility. "Motherfucker." Lance gave him a weird look, and he shrugged almost imperceptibly.

They were very close to the hangar now, and there was some sort of commotion on the path that led around it. It looked like a luggage cart breakdown. Keith frowned slightly… it also seemed convenient, but he'd take the stroke of luck. "How about a shortcut through this hangar? Says it's open."

"If it'll get us back faster, fucking perfect."

"I'm all for it." Lance felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up almost the moment they stepped inside. Hopefully that meant their trap was going to work.

Every one of Jace's instincts was screaming that they should not be here. The hangar was cavernous and almost empty, filled with the echoes of distant clanging and heavy-duty ventilation fans. Had they not already known they were being tracked, it was the sort of place he'd have insisted they bail on muito rápido. As it was…

He really wished the ninjerk were here. No doubt their tail would be smart enough to stick to the shadows now, and no way in hell would they be able to hear anything. They needed a bottleneck… a large pile of crates caught his eye, and he grinned. It looked like the maintenance workers had made themselves a narrow tunnel through the storage area as a shortcut. Perfect.

"Those boxes," he whispered beneath the noise of the fans. "Go through, double back." It would be possible for their tail to get around the boxes and wait on the other side, but not likely; it would require moving through a lot of empty space.

Nodding, the team filed into the passage, walking nearly to the end before halting and turning back. This was either going to be a spectacular victory or a spectacular embarrassment… Jace crept forward until he was very close to where they'd entered, and waited. One minute passed. Two. Three? It already felt like they'd been there forever…

A silhouette appeared at the mouth of the passage, and he grinned. "Boo, bitch." One hand on his sidearm, he used the other to chuck his drink right into Glowy Bugface's glowy bug face.

He didn't say anything else. Not like the team needed infantry training to know what came next.

In the space of about two seconds, their tail stepped back, trying without much success to wipe the sticky liquid from its mask. In those two seconds, it had six pistols aimed at it—excepting Sven, who had his knife out instead, and Vince, who was firmly behind the Viking. But Lance had two guns to make up for it.

"…Oh." It did not sound appropriately concerned.

"You've got something on your face," Daniel pointed out, smirking.

Keith stepped forward, keeping his sidearm steady. "You want to tell us why you're following us?"

"…Of course I will tell you." It removed its compromised mask, revealing a face with glowing gold eyes, large catlike ears, and short blue-violet fur. "Vrenkat se, Alliance creatures."

It was precisely what they'd expected, but most of the team was still startled to have it confirmed. Sven narrowed his eyes, wishing he'd improved his firearm skills some more; Jace took a couple of steps back.

"Uh oh," Daniel whispered, drawing a sharp breath and shooting Lance a wary look. Their pilot had actually managed not to open fire, somehow.

The Galra looked them over. "You may as well lower your weapons. They do not frighten me." His Common was flawless, and his voice was low and almost soothing—though under the circumstances, it wasn't doing a damn thing to calm anyone down.

"Oh yeah. Totally putting our weapons down."

"That's not fucking happening."

Their former tail seemed taken aback by that, for some reason. Then he blinked and chuckled slightly. "Ah, I see. You are under the misapprehension that you have me trapped. Very well." He shrugged. "Tell me of your interest in Voltron, and you will be permitted to retain that illusion."

"Fucking entitled pig," Lance growled, not nearly as quietly as he'd thought—though really he didn't care.

"Should've brought some fucking needles," Jace agreed quietly.

Keith frowned and stepped past them; he wasn't completely certain he trusted Lance not to shoot, and they really couldn't pass up this chance for information. "What is Voltron? What do you want with it?"

The Galra gave him a dumbfounded look. "Is your ignorance so profound? I will ask again. What is your interest in Voltron?" His tone dripped with scorn. "A name you know nothing of?"

"And why should we tell you anything? You're in no position to be asking questions here. You're outnumbered." Keith's own eyes were cold as he indicated Lance. "And he has a big thing about not liking Galra."

Isn't that a fucking understatement. "You have no idea how lucky you are not to be riddled with holes already."

"I welcome you to try it," the Galra answered simply.

"Don't tempt me."

"Don't tempt him."

Daniel snorted as Lance and Keith spoke in unison, then eyed the Galra and mumbled under his breath. "What profound stupidity."

"This exchange is not going to be productive, I see." Narrowing his eyes, the Galra looked them over again. "You are meddling in affairs that do not concern you, and which your primitive minds cannot grasp."

"But you followed us and tried to interrogate us?" Keith pointed out. "Seems like maybe we're not so primitive as you think."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But you have demonstrated your own ignorance." The Galra frowned, looking to Lance in particular. "We have no quarrel with you, your kind, or your Alliance. You would be best served to forget the name Voltron… it is beyond you."

No quarrel? That was it. "I have a quarrel," Lance snarled, and opened fire. Next to him, Daniel startled a bit, but quickly recovered and started shooting as well.

Keith hissed. "Dammit, Lance!" Admittedly that conversation hadn't been going anywhere, but…

None of the shots landed. Seeing Lance's fingers twitch, the Galra sprang aside, the breeze from the bullets ruffling his fur as he reoriented. Drawing a jagged blade, he lunged forward, using the dark metal to block Daniel's plasma shots; in the same smooth motion he dropped a shoulder into Keith's chest and scythed Jace's legs out from under him.

"Porra…"

"Kuso!"

"What the fuck?" Lance kept firing, but the bullets only struck crates as the Galra spun on his heel, lunging at Daniel and punching his knuckles against the grip of his sidearm. Daniel yelped and dropped the gun; the Galra caught it before sheathing both weapons, turning, and lunging for Lance.

If anything was going to piss Lance off even more, this bastard even touching Daniel was it. He hadn't been at all prepared for the lunge, but he squeezed off a few more rounds nonetheless; one clipped him, ripping a new chunk from one tattered purple ear.

"FUCKING…" He was cut off by the Galra grabbing his wrists, then flipping over him; both his arms were wrenched nearly out of their sockets, and a moment later he found himself face first on the floor.

Now carrying Lance's pistols, the Galra jumped to the top of the stacked crates. It was the first time Cam had gotten a clean shot, and he took it; Keith had recovered from the initial attack and opened fire as well. Their target sidestepped with an impatient sigh and took aim with both of Lance's pistols, shooting their guns from their hands.

The whole 'fight' had taken less than thirty seconds.

For a moment, everything was frozen. Jace had gotten his pistol up, but he'd seen enough to not even bother pulling the trigger; he lowered it slightly as the Galra gave him a questioning look. Sven had his knife out, but certainly wasn't going to go climbing up the crates. He really just wanted to check on his team. Vince had managed to get a hand on his own sidearm, but the moment the Galra looked at him he gulped and moved it away again. This was so not his wheelhouse.

The rest of the team was glaring, but they were a bit out of options. Daniel was clutching his hand—who the fuck punches a hand? As if he and his ego weren't bruised enough, his gun was currently strapped to the bad guy's hip. Keith was wishing he'd brought Raiden, he'd show this arrogant ass a thing or two… but he hadn't.

Finally seeming satisfied that they weren't going to attack again, the Galra gave a slight nod. "This is your only warning." He set Lance and Daniel's guns on the crate in front of him. "If we meet again, your only choices will be knowledge or death." With that, he jumped backward off the crates and vanished into the hangar.

"Your death!" Lance yelled after him, getting an odd look from Daniel. He supposed it would have been more convincing if he hadn't still been flat on the floor… he was a little afraid to try to stand, both his arms had nearly been yanked out. But he was furious, and if yelling was his only option then he'd fucking well yell.

Keith looked around, pretty well infuriated himself, then turned to Sven and Vince. "Secure the area. We need time to check the injured."

"Yes sir." Sven nodded. "Come on, Vince." Vince was clearly questioning his suitability for that job, but nodded and stuck close to the Viking. It seemed like the safest bet.

Jace was shaking his head. "There are not enough 'fucks' to accurately describe this situation—okay, let's see where you people got hit." He turned to Lance.

"Check Daniel first."

"No, I'm good."

Even at a distance Daniel's hand did not look good; Jace scowled. "Kid, you can show me the hand now and have the option of flipping your favorite animal, or I can drag you to the sick bay and stab you with some nice sedatives. Your call."

Scowling back, Daniel held his hand out. He was an expert on broken bones, particularly having broken bones, but he really didn't want to believe it was broken; that would mean a cast, which would mean no guns and limited field work, which would mean boredom. "It's really fine. Barely hurts." He gave an odd, pained mix of a groan and a laugh. "I think it's probably just a bruise."

"You know what else 'barely hurts' could be? Nerve damage." Jace took his hand and gave it a few pokes. "Yeah, that's a break. You're sure it doesn't hurt? Because if it hurts that's just a cast, if it doesn't that's tests and shit."

"Kid, just admit you need the cast," Lance seconded.

Daniel was not going to admit he needed a cast. He'd had enough humiliation for one day. "Guess it's gonna be tests."

"Tests it is." Jace shrugged. "Who's next?"

"Dislocated shoulder, I think…" Lance looked at Daniel and shook his head slightly, then looked up at where the Galra had left his guns. He was going to need to disinfect them.

"Who the hell was that?" Keith asked quietly, watching as Jace worked on Lance. "What did he want from us?"

"Some Galra motherfucker, and I don't care as long as he didn't fucking get it."

That was all true, Keith supposed. But they couldn't brush it off that easily… he pulled out his datapad and sent a message, then exhaled slowly. Everything about their mission had just changed.

*****

Two messages had come through to the engineers while the others were gone. One had come in early; a notice that they'd been given a refueling voucher. Which would be helpful eventually, no doubt… the spaceport had a very strict refueling schedule, and the Bolt was very much starting at the bottom.

The second message was much later and much less helpful. Secure the ship. Prep as much as possible for takeoff. Watch the refueling and don't let anyone else get near. We were being followed.

If Flynn didn't know better, he'd have said Pidge was happy about it… or at least, the ninja was immediately in his element. "You two watch the hull while I get a security net established. Give me five minutes, then I can monitor on my own."

"Uh, sure… pit boss?" Hunk looked at Flynn, who shrugged. He wasn't really going to argue with it; it wasn't like he had any better ideas.

The security net was ultimately comprised of the ship's sensors, the long-suffering scout drone, and a ninja in a chameleon suit. Flynn left Hunk in charge of the engines while he went to the bridge, running preflight checks and getting a takeoff slot cleared for right after their refueling slot. That seemed like the correct thing to do. He really would have appreciated an actual ETA from Kogane—the refueling voucher would be a good thing to have before the refueling actually happened.

Pidge was in full stealth, pacing a large circle around the Bolt's landing gear. They were followed? By who? It was an academic question, at the moment, but every suspicion had its own implications. All they could really hope right now was that it wasn't the Vex-Cha themselves doing the following… if he had to stab one of the refueling crew, they might be making another of those illegal escapes from a planet sooner rather than later.

Another message finally came in about fifteen minutes after the order to secure. Almost there. Stay on the ship so you won't be seen if we're being watched.

"How are we supposed to watch the refueling and stay on the ship?" Hunk asked as Flynn relayed the new order.

"That's what we have a ninja for."

"Yeah, that's true."

Keith and the others had done as much weaving on the way back as they felt was safe; none of the injuries were too urgent, and it wasn't like they needed to pretend they didn't know they were being followed anymore. Of course, they actually didn't know if they were still being followed. Betting against it just seemed like a bad idea.

A pair of hulking Vexakila in a tanker were just arriving to the Bolt as the team returned. Perfect timing. Keith handed them the voucher and stood to the side to watch; he was trying to get as close as he could without looking suspicious when a familiar voice hissed in his ear.

"Stop acting weird, sir, I'll keep an eye on it."

…Okay, so there was an invisible ninja on the job. Good to know. Keith watched closely anyway, but not closely enough to be weird. Probably. The Vexakila didn't seem to mind, at least; they departed with a polite farewell.

"Stoker?" he whispered as the tanker rolled away.

"Clear, sir."

He really hadn't expected the Vex-Cha to be in league with the Galra, but you could never be too safe. Especially with what they'd already been through today. "Stay in stealth until we're back aboard."

"You really don't need to tell me that." The ninja's disembodied voice was mildly offended.

"Just making sure." They would have to move as quickly as possible once they were back on the ship—every second of delay was a second when someone could sneak up and stick a tracking beacon somewhere on the huge Vagrant's structure. "Actually, go in ahead of me and tell them to get the engines firing. Have Holgersson take the helm—McClain and Brennan are injured, and I want us rolling the second the airlock is closed."

"Yessir." Pidge was slightly impressed. It hadn't been all that long ago that the commander's entire understanding of covert operations had seemed to come from human spy films. Then again, this probably could have come from spy films—but at least he was applying it correctly. Darting up the ramp, he made his way up to the bridge to relay the orders.

Sven's earlier eagerness to get to his nav charts had not abated, but it had dropped a little in priority. Still… "Keith wants me to do the takeoff?" He'd definitely never done a takeoff roll with anything nearly this large. At least it wasn't shooting, he supposed… nor were they illegally fleeing. It could be worse. Moving over to the helm, he brought the engines up, then watched the airlock indicator.

As it went green, Keith's voice came over the internal comms. "Holgersson, get us moving!"

"On it, sir." Less than twenty seconds after the boarding ramp had come up, the Bolt was safely on the move.

Hopefully it would be good enough… at least for now.

*****

Miralna wasn't certain how long she'd been traveling. She'd been sticking to shelter as much as possible—caves, tunnels, forests, anything that could keep her out of sight. But it also kept her from seeing the sun, and she had no way to know how much time was passing when she stopped to rest or sleep. She'd been surviving on a few ration scraps scrounged from the battlefield, plus any edible plants she found along the way… the sacred blade was long and heavy, not much use for hunting nimble rolis even if she could wield it at full strength.

That was something she couldn't do, in any case. She was weak from hunger and shock, and reduced to dragging the blade behind her. At one stop she'd made a rough sheath of bark and leaves for it—at this point, she lived only to protect the sword. Letting it be worn down by the stone would be a poor way of fulfilling that duty.

Surely it had been weeks… slumping in a ruined hut in the foothills, she studied the last bite of her battlefield rations. Could she wait a day longer? Stretch this out a few hours more? Closing her eyes a moment, she took a few shallow breaths, trying to decide what to do.

When she opened them, she found herself staring at a marking on the scorched stones. A simple glyph in the old language, one that meant 'peace'. It wasn't uncommon at all on Arus… a blessing invoked by many homes. Of course it might be found in some ruins.

That was what the enemies of Arus were supposed to think.

The sign of peace in a ruined home… Miralna felt adrenaline shoot through her. It was how wilderness entrances to the shelters were marked. Finally, she'd found what she was looking for, and not a moment too soon. A quick search of the structure led her to a broken bit of floor… murmuring an apology to the Radiant Warrior and the sword itself, she slipped the blade between the cracks to pry it up.

Darkness greeted her. Radiant One, thank you, she offered silently, slipping into the tunnel and pulling it closed behind her. With the blade in one hand, drawing a flarestone from her pouch with the other, she began to walk with renewed purpose.

Some ten minutes brought her to a camouflaged door, and a chamber beyond. The few people there jumped, but calmed when they saw the sword. Or perhaps her supply pouch—though she'd shed her armor at Zohar, the pouch was still emblazoned with the sign of the Golden Knights. Either way, they went from wary to welcoming in a matter of moments, and one of them took a few steps forward.

The last of her adrenaline faded, and before she could so much as offer a greeting, she passed out.

*****

When she woke, Miralna found herself on a rough cot surrounded by people. Two were probably doctors, considering the clean gloves they were wearing—rare commodities at this stage in the occupation. One was probably in charge of resources for the shelter; he handed her a small canteen of water and a piece of bread, which she accepted gratefully. An attempt to thank him out loud resulted in nothing but a raspy squeak from her throat… wincing, she sipped the water. How long had it been since she'd spoken, other than vaguely mumbling to herself?

It had been to a gryphon, she knew that much. Which would probably sound crazy if she tried to explain it.

"Take a moment, honored knight." The speaker was wearing the formal robes of an Elder, threadbare but still recognizable. "What has brought you to us?"

That was a question without a simple answer, no doubt. "Where am I?" Answering a question with a question was poor form, but she could hardly begin to do anything else.

"In the Halonia shelters. I am Elder DeFlor."

Halonia? She had gone a long way. But her goal might still be within reach. "I am Miralna, of the Knights of Light. I must find the Princess or the Prince… I was at Zohar…" Feeling her voice trying to give out again, she took another drink. "The High King has fallen."

That wasn't how she'd have chosen to make that report in most circumstances, but she was still a bit too tired for tact. The gasps that greeted the news made her feel a bit guilty about it… no, it was the truth, and they must know the truth. King Alfor was gone. Denying it would change nothing.

Elder DeFlor, though still clearly shaken, recovered first. "The location of the heirs is not known to us for certain. Reports have placed Princess Allura in the castle shelter…" He paused, giving a significant look to one of his aides. "We may have a lead about Prince Tanner, if you were able to help her…"

That was intriguing. "Her?"

"The royal governess is here," DeFlor explained. "Lady Hys. She was separated from the prince during the initial attack, and traveled here from Falastol in hopes of finding him. The tunnels she used to get here have collapsed… Halonia was a small town, you must understand. We have only a handful of militia in this shelter; we haven't been able to spare anyone to try to escort her back."

Miralna blinked. Traveling from Falastol to Halonia—even through the tunnels, or perhaps especially through the tunnels, the routes were often indirect—was quite a feat. "This Lady Hys must be brave and noble, to have made it so far alone? I would be honored to help her search for her charge." Sheer tried to sit up straight, and was immediately struck with a wave of dizziness; despite her efforts she went right back down, and winced. "…Perhaps… after regaining my strength."

The Elder had startled again when she fell back; now he nodded. "Rest for the moment, honored knight. We will need time to gather supplies for your journey."

She hesitated a moment. "Can this shelter afford that?" They'd heard stories of shelters just barely surviving day by day.

DeFlor nodded. "We have… a small population here, sadly." She flinched at the implications of that. "And Arus needs its prince. If provisioning you and the governess is what we can do to aid our people, we will do so gladly."

Nodding, Miralna relaxed a little. If that was the case… she could hardly refuse the aid, or the charge. "Thank you, Elder. We will succeed… for Arus."

"For Arus."