(On the Hunt) Chapter 28

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 28

Criminal Pursuits

One of the key logistical difficulties of interstellar travel was also the single most basic element. A planet was a very big place; a spaceport, by comparison, not so much. Somehow or another, travelers needed to find out where to land. Different factions, and sometimes even different planets within the same faction, had different preferences for dealing with the issue. But the most common was some form of satellite network or orbital station, broadcasting open-frequency information for new arrivals.

Some planets liked to broadcast far more than just landing sites. Zandrek was one of them. Hopefully it would help.

Cam was the last into the conference room, partly because he'd been managing the information download and partly because he'd had to make a further detour. A detour which saw him setting a plate of cinnamon toast in front of Daniel, before starting to work with the projector settings—

"—Hey, no one told me we could get toast delivery!"

"Bro, if you need any food delivery, all you gotta do is ask…"

Looking over between Lance and Hunk, Cam shook his head slightly. "I lost a bet." That got him several curious looks that he pointedly ignored; under no circumstances was he going to explain any further. It may have involved flamingos.

Daniel took a piece of toast and waved his cast in Lance's direction. "And I'm injured."

Unlike Daniel, Lance had been freed from the tyranny of his sling while in transit, and responded immediately by waving his two working arms right back in the kid's face. Figuring that spoke for itself, he addressed his roommate. "I'm remembering that, Hunk."

"Good!"

As they debated toast, Cam had gotten the planetary map up on the main projector. Pidge leaned forward and linked his datapad in, frowning. As they'd expected, there were several small spaceports arranged in a clear hub-and-spoke model. One of the smaller ones was blinking green. "So the museum is at this settlement?" He had some familiarity with the Ak-Kila syllabary, which labeled the settlement as ks'ksch; how in the three hells that was pronounced, let alone what it meant, was another issue entirely.

"Yes," Cam confirmed. "Ax-Ixach."

Ah, yes. Precisely as he would've guessed, except not.

"That's the place, Pidge," Keith agreed, looking over the map himself. "But we don't want to set down at that one first."

"I know that," the ninja said shortly, drawing a wide-eyed look from Vince. Nobody else even seemed fazed by it by now.

Keith barely even acknowledged it, focusing on the map instead. "Close, but not too close, I think. One degree of separation is probably enough." He looked around to see if the rest of the team shared that opinion, or perhaps had other ideas.

"I'm all for close but not too close," Lance agreed. "Maybe we'll look less sneaky that way."

"We probably shouldn't be looking sneaky at all," Jace pointed out, eyeing Hunk skeptically. Their bomb tech responded by bringing up a picture of a light-up sombrero on his datapad, then holding it on top of his head; Flynn reached over and smacked him. Lightly.

"No."

"Aww…"

Several of the others snickered.

"Alright." Keith pointed to the main hub connected to Ax-Ixach. "I think we're best served setting down here, then."

"And then me'n the pit boss sneak off the ship before the Galra set up shop?" Hunk frowned slightly as Lance cursed under his breath. "I mean, just in case they're here."

"Seems like the correct move."

Looking between the map and Cam, Flynn hesitated as a logistical issue came to him. Just a small one, of course. Barely a thing. "Best we hope someone at this museum can speak Common…?" If they couldn't take their comms officer, a major spaceport shouldn't give them any trouble, but who the hell knew what might await once they left.

By way of response, Cam called up something else from the informational broadcast. It turned out the museum was one of very few reasons outsiders might take note of this planet. Not only did it have interpreters, it had an actual brochure, compete with translations to Common and several independent languages. They really wanted visitors, apparently. Noting the new display, Flynn nodded an acknowledgment, while Hunk eagerly linked his own datapad in and began flipping through the brochure.

"It's all so sparkly!"

Pidge shot him a look that was definitely not approving of sparkly, then went back to the main topic. "I'll leave the ship with you two, under stealth. I can't keep it engaged indefinitely, but it'll be long enough to get some distance." He frowned. "It's safest if I don't stay with you at all. Just in case the Galra do see you leave the ship." That earned a look from Flynn that was even less approving, though the engineer did not seem to have a logical objection to the plan.

Lance nudged him. "Ninja's got a point."

"I guess…"

"The rest of us should act to minimize risk once you've been offloaded," Keith mused, frowning. Being in the middle of a Vex-Cha spaceport would afford them some protection, but as they'd learned on Onygrine, it may or may not be enough.

"We could stay in our quarters and not get hurt," Jace suggested with a derisive snort.

Daniel eyed him. He'd finished his toast and was already bored out of his mind—shouldn't Explorer Teams have more exciting planning sessions? "That sounds even more boring than this briefing."

"Yeah, you're not wrong."

"You could patrol for Galra," Pidge offered. Immediately Lance straightened up, halfway to grabbing his guns… next to him, Daniel side-eyed him nervously, while Flynn gave him a very similar look from his other side. Shrugging, he slouched back down.

Pretending not to have noticed any of that seemed like the safest play, so that was what Keith did. "We should do that," he agreed, "we're easy targets for a tracking beacon or worse while we're down. The sensor profile you set up on Onygrine is still in place?"

"Yessir."

"Excellent. We should all take shifts outside too, just to be certain nobody gets close."

Now Daniel perked up. Anything was better than sitting in his room staring at his cast for another minute. "That include me?"

"That includes everyone."

"Yes!"

Opinions varied, of course. "Standing guard on the landing gear? Not weird at all. Sounds fun."

"I suppose it's the next best thing to seeing the museum."

"I'll be there with my best guns on."

"…Do I have to?" That last had been Vince, which got him a scowl from Pidge and a nod from Keith; he grumbled a bit but returned the nod. At least they would have the sensors.

"You'll also have to do the refueling, Kogane." Flynn shook his head slightly. "No telling where we go after this."

"We can do that."

"Uh, guys?" Hunk had been ignoring the conversation in favor of reading the museum brochure, and now looked very uneasy. "Did anyone else happen to read this already?"

The others exchanged glances, and a few shrugs. "Figured you had that covered."

"Yeah. Uh, there's a little blurb on this thing from Altea. I mean, ain't a blurb exactly, it's more… it's listed in the special collection." He sent the page he'd been looking at to the projector, which brought it to life next to the map. There were a few moments of silence as the team read through the text, finally all ending in the key point.

Representations of the Special Collections may be viewed at any time. Full access and view of original artifacts available by special arrangement.

"…Uh oh."

"That doesn't sound good."

"We've got to make sure we get at it," Lance snarled. "We know those purple pigs will."

Cam couldn't take it anymore. "With all due respect, Lance, they're not pigs. They're furry, and they don't walk on four legs or have a flat snout…" He trailed off and recoiled as their pilot shot him a smoldering death glare.

"He is correct, sir," Pidge agreed; he didn't seem nearly as worried about the glare. Daniel, though, scooted his chair a few inches back.

"Oh fuck…"

"…Fine. Purple pricks." That got him suspicious looks from both Daniel and Flynn again; it was quite a bit less apocalyptic than might be expected. He just shrugged. He had plenty of colorful words for the bastards, he wouldn't run out any time soon.

"Uh, guys, not to ruin the fucking semantic party but why am I the only person listening to giant donut dumbass?" Jace stabbed a finger in the direction of the projector. "This sounds like a problem!"

"I was on topic."

"We do have to see it somehow. And see what they can tell us about it, which sounds like a 'full access' kind of thing."

"And the Vex-Cha are certainly not known for doing favors for nothing." That was, after all, why they'd had to face down swarms of killer bugs before visiting the archives.

That thought had long since occurred to Hunk already. "So, uh… we gonna do another bounty?"

Keith grimaced. "We really don't have time for that." They were already in Zandrek's atmosphere, and the increased urgency of the Galra weighed heavier on his mind with every moment this discussion went on.

For a moment, there was a tense silence as everyone considered the new complication. Then Daniel looked up and shrugged. "We could just steal it."

Everyone turned to stare at him; Keith's jaw dropped so far for a moment he thought it might have come unhinged. Pidge was the first to recover, giving a small nod of agreement. Next to him, Vince found himself shrugging—it was a logical suggestion, scary as that was to consider. But it was Lance who finally broke the silence, a huge, proud smile spreading over his face.

"Kid, that is fucking brilliant!"

It was all Daniel could do to fight down the blush… really, he probably hadn't fought it down, but nobody was really paying attention to that anymore.

"We can't do that! Interstellar incident!"

"Not like interstellar incidents ever stopped us before, yeah?"

"It is about par for the course with this group…"

"Alright, enough." Keith stood and started pacing. "I would much rather not steal anything. Starr, are there any images of this object?"

There was one, as it happened, but it was rather poor quality. The image their comms officer brought up was little more than a circular golden blur. "…Sort of."

"Wonderful." Though he was still in no way convinced about this idea, Keith found his eyes flickering over to Pidge. If they were going to try this, he was their best bet. It only took a few moments for the young engineer to notice his look and nod.

"I can do it."

Lance sighed. "Why am I not a ninja?"

"Because you don't—" Their actual ninja broke off at a sharp nudge and a glare from Flynn, who wasn't sure what he was going to say but doubted it would be productive.

"Because you'd be a crappy ninja," Daniel offered in his stead.

"I could be a fucking great ninja."

"Humans are slow and clumsy," Pidge muttered, earning scowls from both of them.

"Dude, insulting Lance is one thing, but do you have to insult our whole race?"

Pidge blinked. "It was just a statement of fact."

"No, you stated your opinion." Daniel was struck by an overwhelming sense of deja vu. They'd definitely had a conversation along these lines before.

"Don't add your name to the ninja hate list," Cam whispered harshly. "He already doesn't like me, he could kill us both in our sleep…"

With a derisive snort Daniel waved that off. "He is not going to kill us, he's our teammate. He might stab us, but Jace will fix us up."

Jace didn't look convinced that he would do any such thing. Fortunately, Pidge had been considering Daniel's objection rather than listening to his and Cam's argument, and had decided this one was actually a fair point. "Okay, true. Humans are comparatively slow and clumsy."

"That's still—"

"—Gentlemen." Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please."

Rolling his eyes, Daniel left what he'd been wanting to say alone. It probably hadn't been worth it, anyway. Cam was still annoyed, though. "For once can't we have a briefing where you just behave and don't tempt fate?"

Who would want that? "Your life must be boring."

"No, you're just crazy—"

"—CAMERON."

Jumping with a rather undignified squeak, Cam sank back in his seat with his cheeks burning. "Sorry, sir."

"Oooh, you got fullnamed," Daniel snickered under his breath.

Lance elbowed the kid lightly, then looked back at the projector. It was the one time he'd actually wanted a mission briefing to stay on track, and he was damn well going to keep it there. "Could we get back to our heist? And getting this Altean relic out of the hands of the purple pricks?"

"It's… not really in their hands?" Flynn pointed out with a small frown. "But we should focus, anyway."

"If we're thinking of grabbing it, what do you think they're thinking?"

That premise struck Sven as slightly off. "Do we think we're racing them? I didn't think that was the theory."

"They're either lying in wait to spy on us, or they're trying to grab this relic before we get to it," Jace agreed. "It's probably not both, but we don't know for sure which it is until we get there, so…"

Cam and Daniel had not actually stopped bickering. Rather, they'd just devolved into a whispered name-calling contest that was starting to pick up in volume. Right as it was starting to pick up enough steam to become disruptive again, something dark and shimmering flashed between them—an obsidian throwing star that came only inches from taking someone's nose off before hitting the far wall and clattering to the floor.

"The fuck!"

"Pidge!"

"See?!"

"Yes! See? I told you he wouldn't kill us."

"Oh for…" Keith squeezed the bridge of his nose again, trying to will the headache away. "Do I have to start banning weapons from our briefings now?"

"Only trying to help, sir." Pidge shot the two bridge kids a look that very clearly said next time one of them would, indeed, lose a nose. They shut up.

Maybe it wasn't the best of options, but for right now their commander would take it. "Right. Thanks for the assist?"

Flynn was staring at Pidge in somewhat more resignation than disbelief. Finally he just sighed. "I for one am not even going to object." It did seem to have had the desired result, at least. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward and looked at the projections. "Now what exactly is our plan here? The two of us showing up to look at this relic and then the relic immediately going missing seems… less than ideal."

That was an excellent point. "Could do it the other way around, yeah?" Hunk suggested after a few moments. "Ninja steals it, we show up the next day like wow, damn dude, guess our criminal got here before us…"

Even knowing full well Hunk's act was an act, Flynn had not been expecting that level of deviousness. "…That's a good idea."

"Hunk, that's fucking brilliant."

"It is more… ideal." Keith stumbled over using that word in relation to this; the whole plan was anything but ideal. "But do we really want to steal it at all? I know, I know, the Galra probably wouldn't think twice about it. But we're not the Galra, and the Vex-Cha are allies."

Well that was a bit of an overstatement. "Technically they're more like acquaintances." The point got Flynn a mildly irked look.

"You know what I fucking think," Lance snorted. "Stealing it is the smart option."

Across the table, Sven nodded slowly. He couldn't believe he was thinking this, let alone saying it, but… "If it's our only option, it's our only option."

Jace couldn't believe Sven had said that either, and gave him a stunned look before shrugging. "Beats another bounty." He looked over at Hunk. "Didn't you say they mostly wanted assassinations?"

"Totally did." Hunk shrugged back. "I mean, if the boss wants to go with that…"

"…Only as a last resort." They'd crossed a lot of lines on this mission so far, but Keith wanted to believe there were at least a couple they might yet avoid. "Very last resort."

"More or less of a last resort than theft?" Flynn asked. The commander gave him a pained look, and he shrugged too; it seemed like a debate that had needed a bit of clarity.

Finally, Keith sighed, his shoulders slumping the tiniest bit as he dropped back into his chair. "Pidge, are you alright with doing this?" He folded his hands on the table and speared him with the gravest look in his arsenal. "Because if you object to it, at all, I won't consider it."

It was immediately clear the ninja was not going to bail him out here; he looked confused. "Why would I object? Unless security is too heavy, but we don't know that yet."

"Because this isn't part of your job description." It was occasionally easy to forget that their genuine ninja was actually here to mind the ship's software. "And because it's… ethically and morally wrong?"

Humans. Pidge eyed his commander sharply, then straightened. "We need to find this Voltron before the Galra," he said matter-of-factly. "This is our only path forward. If the Galra were to find and use this weapon first because we didn't steal this artifact, that would be much more of a moral failing."

"Yes, that!" Lance agreed. It was refreshing to have someone talking sense.

It did make sense, even to Keith. He wasn't sure he was really feeling it as true, but with a little effort he could convince himself… and if this was what it took to fulfill their mission, he couldn't let his own doubts interfere. So be it… this is the weight of command. "Okay. Steal it."

Pidge nodded. "When we land I'll move straight to the museum to scout things out. Give me a day under radio silence for starters."

He spoke with such confidence. Almost eagerness, even. Maybe he was an engineer by trade, but he certainly seemed to enjoy exercising his other skills. That much Keith could understand. "Will you need any kind of backup? Surveillance assistance?"

"Unlikely, sir. If it comes up I'll let you know." Frown. "I assume I don't have lethal authorization, kir sa tye?"

Keith stared. He hadn't thought about that. "No, you do not!" Then he reconsidered, as possible exceptions immediately sparked in the back of his mind. Categorical denial was probably unwise—especially since Pidge would almost certainly actually obey it. "…Unless absolutely necessary to preserve your own safety." The words felt heavy. But hopefully, not even the most dedicated of security guards would have really signed on to either kill or be killed.

"Yessir. Understood."

"I don't like this," their commander said quietly—as if everyone hadn't noticed already. "But this is the best option we have. Everyone get ready, we'll be down in an hour or two."

Hunk was frowning as the group started to split up, and motioned to catch Flynn's eye. "So if we're gettin' off the ship right off too, what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Get a hotel and play board games?"

Flynn blinked, then looked over at Keith, who shrugged. "…We'll figure something out."

*****

The museum was interesting enough, Pidge supposed. It wasn't exactly a museum of history. More of an art museum, specifically jewelry. And a geology museum, specifically gemstones.

Everything was well-documented, with placards explaining craftsmanship and cultural significance. But one might, if one were uncharitable, still have called it an ostentatious display of wealth. Then again, when they'd named the place the Repository of Riches, they weren't trying all that hard to hide it. Maybe the Vex-Cha considered this sort of thing normal.

In any case, he'd paid the entry fee and gone in legitimately to case the place, paying far more attention to the heavy security than the sparkly objects. Helpfully, the treasure on display wasn't the only thing ostentatious around here—most of that security was very visible. A good measure in itself, a display of force to convince any would-be thieves they wanted no part of it.

Pidge was not entirely unimpressed… but he wasn't entirely impressed, either. It wasn't going to take more than the day he'd initially allotted to get this job done.

He'd brought along a few tools, most notably the one he was wearing. Baltan chameleon suits had been designed and refined for such work for nearly as long as Baltans had been ninjas. No Shinori worth the name—or even a varetya not so worthy of it—required the suit for basic stealth maneuvers, but it did offer valuable advantages. And more to the point, this was not a basic operation. This was infiltration of a heavily secured facility, and retrieval of an object specifically hardened against being retrieved.

Simple physics, in the form of the suit's power system, was the primary weakness in play. Everything was a balance. Stealth mode required more energy to maintain than the power cells could provide without overwhelming their own signal-dampening measures, which would clearly be counterproductive. The problem necessitated a battery pack, but space—and thus capacity—was at a premium.

The bottom line was that he would have exactly thirty-eight minutes and seventeen seconds of uninterrupted active camouflage. Less if he had to use any other active systems, which he already knew he would. It gave him both a hard and soft timer for the operation, and he wasn't too proud to admit he would probably be cutting things close.

No matter. More fun that way.

The key to the operation, ironically enough, was also power. The Repository quite wisely had its own heavy-duty generator, and kept it within the main security perimeter. It was separated from the museum proper by fortified doors and armed guards. But the problem with armed guards was that they had to change shifts sooner or later… and they weren't exactly looking out for small invisible humanoids who might be accompanying them during the process. That would just be silly.

And that was how Pidge found himself alone in the power station's control room, well after the museum's closing time, ready to get this mission underway.

The control system was not well-secured. Why would it be? They'd put far too much emphasis on physical security, assuming the system to be inaccessible. The hardest part was linking a translation interface into the console. Then he was in, scrolling through the reactor parameters, modifying a few settings and starting to overwrite the command program. Merely disabling the generator was inelegant, and put him at the mercy of backup systems. There were better ways.

He couldn't break into the actual security systems from here, not that he'd expected to. Those, no doubt, were far more heavily encrypted. The generator was the weak link. It would be enough…

Finishing his work, he locked the system down and moved to the door. Hood up, mask down, stealth on; a timer flickered into view in a corner of his vision, the suit's heads-up display showing him how much time he had left in camouflage mode.

The sharp crack of a circuit breaker rang through the station. Then another. Then the emergency lighting sprang to life as the maintenance lighting dimmed and flashed, the reactor power suddenly going from a constant supply to wild spikes. Another crack, this time a breaker opening back up; the cycle he'd set wasn't going to be disabled so easily.

Pidge grinned. Here we go.

Alarms started to shriek a second later. Then a massive jolt tore through the building, blowing out subsystems and shutting down much of what wasn't outright fried with the accompanying EMP.

The guards on shift came rushing in, clicking and chittering with concern, checking the flickering control panels. One opened a communications link; keeping the reactor in check wasn't their job. The other ran back to the entrance, starting to engage the manual mechanisms for the doors, most of which had just had their electronic locks shut down. Pidge slipped through each one as the guard opened them up, racing back towards the museum proper. Behind him, several lights went out; a second electromagnetic spike had gone off.

No alarms were going off in the museum, or at least, not that he could hear. The guards at the main entrance clearly knew what was going on, though. They were the native Zathreek: colorful beetle-like creatures, but compact and heavily armored rather than the towering, rather fuzzy Vexakila. Both were on the lookout, buzzing quietly to each other. Both needed to be dealt with—he didn't need them lurking about while he worked.

Unsure what kind of poison might disable a Zathreek, and not sure he'd trust his knife to penetrate their thick carapace anyway, Pidge had to be a bit more creative. Plan A was to sneak the nearest guard's stun pistol from its holster. Easy enough; it clicked in sudden agitation as an invisible hand snatched its weapon away. Ducking to the side, he took aim and attempted to squeeze the trigger.

It didn't budge.

Sentrakor sa kye…

No time to puzzle out whatever alien safety was thwarting him. Dropping the weapon and darting away from the other guard's fire, he switched to plan B.

Inelegant and suboptimal it may have been, but a solid crescent kick to the face would effectively separate most sentients from consciousness. Leaving them in a heap on the floor behind him, Pidge limped forward. A solid crescent kick to heavy Zathreek chitin was not exactly not-painful for the kicker, either.

Mercifully, the rest of the journey was uneventful. Ten minutes of stealth down. He was making good time, and he would need every bit of it for the next part.

The special collections vault had all the usual tricks: cameras, infrared sensors, ambient biometric scanners, the works. It also had some unusual tricks. The floor was a series of pressure plates, and entering the correct code would only generate a single randomized path that was safe to walk on. Even that was something of a backup. The room had its own closed air supply, a precise balance of elements designed to preserve its contents… and also to knock out nearly any living creature that tried to enter without proper safety gear.

That part of the system was not advertised. More importantly, that part of the system wouldn't be compromised by the EMP spikes. This was the part he was worried about. His chameleon suit had a very basic rebreather functionality; it was intended for escape from immediate biohazards, not willingly walking into toxic atmospheres. And it burned through power like wildfire, especially in conjunction with stealth. As he approached the vault doors and found the manual release, he engaged the new subsystem and grimaced.

His twenty-seven remaining minutes of power dropped to three.

Now get moving!

The vault was spacious and well-marked, of course. The Vex-Cha would want employees to be able to navigate it easily. About two thirds of the way down the first row he found the Altean relic: a wide bronze-gold bracelet with intricate patterns engraved along the edges, inlaid with a mosaic of golden yellow crystal and what appeared to be oddly smooth sandstone. The centerpiece of the bracelet was a bright translucent crystal with a symbol etched into or beneath it in gold; it vaguely reminded Pidge of a shovel or an anvil.

Putting his observations aside—no time—he made a quick check of the security system. The primary protection here was a ring of metallic contacts that formed a closed circuit with the relic itself. Simple, but effective. He could just take it and run, but the longer the Vex-Cha thought this was a reactor malfunction and not a theft, the better. So he spent a few precious seconds waiting for the next spike, then laced a conductive wire across the contacts before lifting the relic from its place.

The circuit held.

He opened the chameleon suit's small tool pouch and slipped the relic into it, the gleaming gold vanishing into apparent nothingness. Now he just had to get out of here, and as long as his sabotage of the generator held for a few more minutes, that was the easy part… looking at his timer, he turned and ran for the exit to the vault, stumbling free with nearly thirty seconds to spare.

That went better than expected.

Dropping back into stealth alone gave him slightly over four minutes. Still no time to waste. Ignoring the dull ache shooting up his leg with each step, he broke into a run.

*****

"Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your dice! A most heinous crime has been committed! It falls to the mighty wisdom and totally not overrated abilities of INTEL to discover who committed this dastardly assault upon—"

"—Dude, we discussed this last round, it's just a smuggling bust."

Pacing dramatically in front of his datapad, Hunk stopped and turned on his heel, glaring through the comm screen at Jace. "That's what they want you to think!" Behind him, just barely in the frame, Flynn was conspicuously facepalming… and not for the first time.

Having found a humanoid-friendly hotel in Ax-Ixach, and with nothing else to do until the ninja finished his work, they were in fact sitting around playing board games. The game of Intel, to be precise: a modern variant of a nearly five-century-old murder mystery. Syncing two holographic boards between the Bolt and the hotel had been easier than trying to make poker work.

"It'd be a crime if it was the Scarlett that went down for it," Lance declared. He'd expressed that opinion before, too.

"The Scarlett's captain wasn't gonna sleep with you, caralho. Make your move before giant donut dude gets started again." That got him a pout from Hunk and a sigh from Sven.

"I enjoyed your introduction, Hunk."

Lance snorted. "Even if you paid her you'd have no shot, Jace. Vince, roll the dice." With more players than game pieces they'd been forced to have a few teams. Hunk and Flynn were one, for obvious logistical reasons. Lance and Vince had been paired by random luck of the draw, as had Sven and Daniel… one of those teams felt significantly luckier than the other.

Rolling the dice brought the AWS Scarlett into the Galilei Sector on the board, and Vince paused a moment, reflexively glancing at his notes. Then he shook his head in mild irritation; it was a new game, he didn't have any notes yet. "Alright, how about… the ASV Professor Plum, at the Library of Galileo, with the firework shipment?"

"Dude." Daniel scowled slightly; he and Sven were playing as the Plum, and the accusation moved their game piece across the board. "I would never be in a library."

"I would be," Sven countered; his teammate rolled his eyes.

"That's not helping us."

"That's what you'd want us to think," Lance taunted, drawing a bit of a glare and a shake of Daniel's cast.

Keith had been patiently waiting for silence, and now held up the firework card. "Sorry, no smuggling rockets." He was trying to let the game distract him from why they were here, though it wasn't necessarily working… his datapad was at his side, displaying a feed from their sensor drone. In-person patrols had been ended by the spaceport's nighttime curfew, or he'd have been out there instead.

"I love the accuracy of this game," Flynn commented lightly. "Just make things up and hope it's right, exactly like how real intel seems to operate."

"True that."

"No kiddin'."

Vince noted down the fireworks card while Lance poked the holographic figure representing their ship. Sven looked at Daniel. "I suppose I'm the one in charge of note taking. Again."

Their gunner waved his cast at him, too. "We're doing what we're good at. You can take notes way better than I can, and I have better dice rolling skills."

Cam snorted. "Sure you do, bud."

"It would be nice if I could roll the dice every once in awhile," Sven protested, drawing a short laugh from Jace.

"You're on this team, you roll the dice just by existing."

That got a few snickers, and even Keith couldn't deny the point. "Fairly accurate, really." It was actually his turn, so he took the dice and rolled. Rather poorly. Unable to get anywhere useful, he passed the dice to Jace, who juggled them between his hands and tossed them across the board a little too enthusiastically; one hit his own game piece and knocked it over.

"Whoops. Abandon ship!"

"Blowin' up your own ship totes doesn't count, Doc."

"Thank the gods you aren't a ship captain."

"No wonder you pay for it, with that coordination."

"Porra… you couldn't have done it if you tried." Rolling his eyes, Jace flipped Lance off before moving his piece to nowhere in particular. Then he pushed the dice to Cam, who didn't have much better luck.

The two who weren't on the Bolt were next. Hunk had insisted they play as the ACS Peacock, and kept making what were presumably meant to be peacock squawks as he moved their piece along the board. This time, Flynn swatted his hand away and took over, moving their piece into the Atlantis Sector—or as the board more specifically labeled it, the Beta Atlantis Bulwark. Hunk pouted at him, again.

"Peacocks, you gonna make a guess?"

Smirk. "It was Kogane in here with the knife shipment, obviously."

Now Hunk swatted him back. "Dude, he's the AWS Mustard!"

"Stop the semantics and drop him in the zone." The last round had rapidly devolved into Jace trolling everyone by making guesses he knew to be false, just to move the others around the board. Flynn felt like that was by far the most entertaining way to play this game. Besides, he and Hunk were holding the Atlantis card; no guess they made here could be accurate to begin with.

Keith scowled slightly as his piece was moved, looked around to see if anyone else was going to disprove the guess, then held up the knife shipment card as well. "Sorry again."

"Right, you're sorry for carrying bladed weapons," his second snorted.

"Why do you have all the violent contraband?" Lance agreed, eyeing him with a smirk.

"Just luck of the draw, I guess… and I heard that, Kleid." He stuck his tongue out at the screen.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Did you just stick your tongue out like a seven year old?"

"Figment of your imagination, Brennan. It's your turn."

"Nope, you did. I'm remembering that for later." With a huge grin, he took the dice in his good hand and rolled, leaving the Library of Galileo behind—why would he want to be in a library in a board game? They'd seen enough of them in reality. Moving the piece to the center of the board, he thought for a moment. "AWS Scarlett, at Galaxy Garrison, with a lot of rope."

"Kinky," Cam whispered a little too loud; Sven and Daniel both turned to stare in disbelief.

"Really?"

They'd both said it at the same time; blinking, Daniel turned back to Sven and shook his head slightly. "We've spent too much time together."

"Agreed."

Lance nodded at Vince, who produced the rope shipment card. "Nope!" Why anyone would be smuggling rope was a question to begin with; it was probably something about the game's history.

"Yeah, you having the rope fits," Jace muttered.

Vince's eyes widened. "What?"

"He meant me," Lance said with a grin.

"Oh…"

"…I mean, yes?" Jace leaned back in his seat. "But we've seen Vince's shoes."

"They're my granny Bea's shoes!"

Cam had made the remarkably poor decision to take a drink during that sequence, and promptly found himself choking on it. Daniel turned, frowned, and smacked him on the back. "Are you dying?"

"Possibly…"

His roommate was not exactly sympathetic. "Can I write your eulogy? I've always wanted to write a eulogy."

"…No."

"Why not?"

Cam set down his glass and recovered his composure. Some of it, anyway. "Because I don't need you saying something to offend my babushka."

"Since when do I offend anybody?!" Daniel demanded, his blue eyes glinting violet for a moment as he narrowed them in sheer indignation.

Nobody was about to answer that.

Sven was quietly scooting back from his teammate, looking at him with a great deal of worry. Once he'd gotten about a foot away Jace kicked his chair leg. "Viking, don't you even fucking look weirded out by that…" He trailed off, though not before muttering something in Portuguese about severing spines.

The navigator shook his head and did not move his chair back. "I'm allowed to be worried about my game partner dreaming of writing eulogies. Especially when it's a game that was originally about murder. And extra especially when he's also on the bridge crew with me."

"I don't want to write eulogies," Daniel complained, even more insulted now. "I just want to write one, and I don't dream about it."

"Can we roll?" Vince whispered to Lance; he was even more worried than Sven about the track this was taking.

Nodding, Lance took the dice and rolled with enough of a flourish to get everyone's attention. Then he moved their piece from the Galaxy Garrison space and, somehow, wound up right back in the library. "Again?"

Flynn snickered.

Checking over his notes, Vince recognized the contraband, at least, was narrowing down nicely. May as well keep chasing that clue. "Green with the lead shielding!"

"How dare you." The ACS Reverend Green was Jace's game piece; he also happened to be holding its card, and flashed it at the others. "I would never be complicit in lead poisoning."

"That's what you tell us," Lance snorted.

"A most heinous crime!" Hunk bellowed; Flynn elbowed him, and Cam giggled.

Keith's next roll took him to somewhere more useful this time. "Alright, so the ACS Peacock, as revenge for earlier… at the Feast of Renascence… with the ammunition shipment. For shame."

Flynn shrugged at the hijacking of their piece. "Hunk probably wants to be there anyway."

"Ain't against it."

"Not as roasted peacock, I'll bet…"

"How dare you," Jace grumbled again, holding up the Feast of Renascence card. "Making me exonerate giant donut dumbass? Porra." He took his own turn, fleeing that zone in favor of greener pastures. Or greener once the Reverend Green was moved there, anyway. "Scarlett at Vanguard Command with the ammo. Pew pew, bitches."

"Sorry, Doc." Cam shrugged. "I've got Vanguard Command."

"Course you do. Better hope it's not contagious."

"Believe me, Doc, I'm hoping." He made his own move, to Centauri Station, then considered his options. "I'm gonna say… the Professor Plum, with the rope."

Even Vince rolled his eyes. "Rope, remember?"

"Oh… sorry." Cam flushed. "I forgot that one."

"It's a nope rope!"

"You were too busy thinking about how kinky it was."

"That's even more of a nope rope."

Shaking his head, Vince showed the card for the rope shipment again just on principle, and wondered—not for the first time—how he was actually surviving with some of these people.

Hunk rolled and moved the Peacock into the Sibereal Outpost, then glanced at his and Flynn's cards again. They seemed to have narrowed things down to the ammo—nope ropes aside—so he decided to try some strategy. He was pretty good at Intel strategy, he'd schooled his brothers many times growing up. "Let's go with the Scarlett at the Sibereal Outpost with the ammo."

His announcement was greeted with something in short supply so far: silence. Vince looked up from his notes, slowly raising an eyebrow.

So did Flynn, though for a different reason. "Now what?" he muttered too quietly to transmit, staring at the card for the AWS Scarlett in his hand.

"Gonna make it official or what?" Jace demanded a moment later.

With a huge grin, Hunk shook his head and flopped back to sit on his bed. "Nah. Your move, Viking."

…Okay then. Sven shrugged off whatever that had been about and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Not really. I'm just the note taker."

"My god!" Daniel grabbed the dice and plunked them down in front of his teammate. "Take the fucking dice then!"

"Thank you." Sven smiled; Daniel flipped him off, which made the smile waver, but just a little. He got worse from his own roommate. Routinely. "You're a very rude little person… ASV Lady White, in the Kuiper Boneyard, with the ammunition shipment."

It took Lance a few moments to fight down the snickers at that assessment of the kid; Daniel's expression only made it that much funnier. "Nope on the White."

"Nuts."

"…Nuts?!" Daniel looked half a second from screaming.

Taking the dice before he really did lose his composure, Lance looked over Vince's shoulder at his notes. He looked to have things pretty well narrowed down, and if he was reading it correctly, he could see exactly where this was going. Moving their piece forward, he landed in the Pacifica Sector and smirked. "Aha! Let's make this one official: it was ME at Pacifica Academy with the ammo!"

"…Nooo," Vince mumbled, giving him a look of frustration.

Keith looked at their pilot and blinked. "You sound way too proud of that."

"Why wouldn't he be proud of it?"

"Exactly!"

"I almost hate to crush your dreams, flyboy…" Flynn waved the Scarlett's card in front of the screen. "Almost."

"…Well fuck me." The engineer's response to that was probably not really hiding behind Hunk, but as he retreated and put the card away it sure looked like he was hiding behind Hunk.

"I knew we needed to wait longer to be sure," Vince grumbled, mostly to himself.

Lance frowned. "Why didn't you say so?"

When exactly would he have said so? "I didn't know you were reading it."

"Why does no one ever expect me to read?"

"Can't imagine," Jace snorted.

"'Cause it's for nerds," Daniel said at the same time. Mostly to piss Sven off, though it wasn't that he didn't also kind of mean it.

Sven ignored it, because he was an adult—or at least that was what he told himself, as if they hadn't been sparring back and forth this whole time. But he certainly wasn't going to lower himself to acknowledging that provocation. He didn't need to, anyway; Lance kept rolling instead, smirking at their gunner and waggling his eyebrows. "Guess you want no one to read that comic you're writing, then."

That got several surprised looks, and Daniel blushed bright red. "W-well, I mean, that's—" He was 'saved,' if it could be called that, by the holographic dice smacking him in the face. "Ow!" Looking up he noticed Flynn smirking too. Apparently the syncing was good enough that the chief had been able to throw the dice from the other board and hit him… which was kind of impressive, actually. And he appreciated the distraction, not that he would admit it. "You're all so damn abusive."

"Hmm." Keith took the dice and rolled; he thought he saw the answer. "I think that makes it the ammo and the Sibereal Outpost, doesn't it? So I think I'll say it was those…" He moved his piece into the Sibereal zone and frowned. "And the Plum."

All animosity was forgotten as the two members of Team Plum looked at each other, waiting for someone to speak up and exonerate them. Nobody did. "Are we smugglers?" Daniel asked, cocking his head.

Sven nodded slowly. "We might be."

"That or the boss has got Plum along with the weapons collection," Jace suggested, eyeing Keith suspiciously. "You know, just going off the stunt the fucking peacocks pulled."

"The peacocks were sneaky," Lance agreed.

"So you think I am too?" Keith shrugged. "I don't have Plum, and I've been told I can't lie very well."

"There's a truth."

"Makes sense for you…"

"Gonna make it official, boss?"

Keith considered that for a moment, then nodded and picked up the 'envelope' that held the last three cards. "Yeah. I'll say that's my final answer." Pulling the cards out, he flipped them onto the table with a smirk. "Looks like I called it. Viking and Brennan are smugglers. Shameful."

"A most heinous crime!" Hunk sidestepped Flynn's attempt to elbow him.

Looking at the cards, then around the table, Sven considered the revelation and shrugged. Maybe he was thinking too hard about it… but prolonged exposure to Daniel as a teammate seemed like a fair enough reason to turn to crime. "That does make some sense."

"Knew it! Never trust a kid and a Viking."

"Wait, what do you mean never?" Cam shot Daniel a worried look. "I sleep in the same room as him? And Sven is the quiet one!"

"What does being quiet have to do with it?"

"I've done some horrible things to my past roommates, dude." Daniel looked even more proud of that than Lance had been at the prospect of smuggling.

"…I'm sleeping with my pistol from now on."

"Not gonna save you." As Daniel smirked, Lance reached over and tousled his hair; the gunner gave his hand a smack. "You go fantasize about the Scarlett's captain."

"Just might do that. Something about redheads…" Lance looked at the screen, but Flynn had busied himself doing something that involved disappearing behind Hunk again.

"I regret where this has gone," Daniel announced, making a face.

Shaking his head slightly, Keith looked down at his datapad. Still no sign of any movement around the ship, suspicious or otherwise. Still not a word from their ninja. "Speaking of the quiet ones…"

"Radio silence does that," Flynn pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. Just… worried about the whole thing, you know?"

"Kogane, believe me. We have noticed."

"Pidge is pretty good at taking care of himself, sir."

"Yeah, ninja'll be fine. I mean he's only committing a little theft." That attempt at reassurance only made their commander flinch.

"He's just borrowing it, really," Jace agreed. "You know. We got mixed up, couldn't remember if we were at a museum or a library this time. Honest mistake."

Sven eyed him. "Is the reason you needed discipline in your life that you'd be a criminal mastermind without it?"

"Possibly."

"Okay!" Hunk clapped loudly for attention. "Clear the board, people! If the boss ain't distracted enough yet it's time for round three!"

"I want a new partner!" Sven and Daniel both declared, then looked at each other and exchanged shrugs. At least it was going to be a mutual separation.

Rearranging the teams didn't take long at all, though by some curious coincidence everyone seemed eager to pair with the two people who were actually taking notes. Cam wound up with Sven, Daniel with Vince, and the board was reset for round three.

"IN A WORLD where mighty warships and uh… cargo shuttles and stuff… roam the distant reaches of space, a most heinous crime has been committed…!"

*****

Pidge had seen the ambush coming just fine.

Where the reception hall narrowed, the security guards he'd knocked out were still unconscious, but they'd been moved. Only slightly. And not without purpose. If he hadn't been the one to put them in that state, it would have looked like they'd just happened to collapse halfway across the hallway. But he had, so he knew better. A quick scan showed infrared sensor beams flickering in the space between them, where there certainly hadn't been anything before.

Given time, he could have gotten around it. The problem was, he was out of time. He had less than a minute of stealth remaining, and his plan had no slack left to stop it from unraveling.

So close…

Eyes narrowed, he stepped back for a running start, then raced forward and vaulted over one of the Zathreek. He didn't have to make the trap easy to spring.

As he crossed the beams, something detached from the ceiling, pouncing squarely between the two guards and growling in frustration as it struck the solid floor. It rose up quickly; a tall, slim humanoid in bulky cloth armor, wearing a mask with purple markings that glowed faintly through the shadows.

Galra.

If he'd just run for the door, Pidge might yet have made it. But he couldn't be sure; he might have simply been presenting his back to the enemy. Rather than take the risk, he turned to face the Galra, grinning slightly. Maybe he'd been hoping for this… an actual worthy opponent. Why pass it up?

His stealth flickered out. "Looking for someone?"

His appearance seemed to startle the Galra slightly—or perhaps it was just the challenge in his tone. "Ah, a creature of courage, then?" The voice was cool and feminine, with a confidence that didn't quite cross into arrogance. "I give you one chance. Surrender the artifact. It does not belong to you."

"It does now." He circled back, watching her sharply. "What's it to you?"

"You are in no position to ask questions. Vrepit sa!" Drawing a jagged sword, she sprang at him.

Wasn't kidding about that one chance, was she? Pidge spun around and broke into a sprint as she committed to the strike. Fighting her was fine. Fighting her was great. Fighting her in the reception hall, though? The Vex-Cha might notice that, and he didn't need that complication.

He was aware of her following, and gaining on him. Fine. Racing out into the light of Zandrek's several moons, he took quick stock of the terrain. The flying buttresses of the museum, the rocky 'lawn', the wide walkways that should probably be avoided if reactor specialists were on their way… he moved as if to attempt to vanish among the support structures, and waited until he sensed her launching an attack.

Whirling around, he doubled back and lunged at her with his knife drawn. She was incredibly fast—he saw her try to react—but not fast enough. His momentum and hers combined to part the ballistic cloth of her armor as if it were nothing, splattering him with blood as he slashed across her ribs and drew back.

She didn't even cry out. Instead she salvaged her own strike, slamming the hilt of her sword into his collarbone. He gasped and staggered back, feeling skin break from the sharpness of the blow, just barely twisting away as she attempted to press the advantage. Unable to bring his own knife back to bear, he faded back again, snapping a kick at her wrist. It didn't disarm her as he'd hoped, but did compromise her grip long enough for him to get some separation.

Pain was burning along his collarbone where she'd struck him, and he fought to force it down. You wanted a worthy opponent… before he could even finish scolding himself she was moving in on him again.

Mijtairra!

He needed space, and clearly she knew he needed space—he'd have to earn every inch. At the last second he loosed a shuriken from his wrist sheath and flicked it just past her hood, dropping into an unbalanced somersault to recover. He fully expected it to have only won him a second or two's separation again; when he came up and she wasn't behind him, he very nearly threw a punch at empty air that would have wholly compromised his position.

Rather than following she'd picked up the throwing star, looking between it and him with a murmur of recognition. "Shinori…?"

"…Now who's asking questions?" He took the moment to try to gain some control over the situation. Charging at her with a feint to the left, he landed a cut to her side and darted away again.

Why hadn't she tried to counter that? Something wasn't right… reflexively he dropped into stealth mode. The battery had only regained about a minute's worth of charge, but it was enough to at least use tactically.

Except…

The Galra held up her blade, and the sigil on its hilt flared violently. A visible shockwave erupted. Pidge stepped back on reflex; there was nowhere to run, no immediate cover available. All he could do was grit his teeth and brace as the wave of energy washed over him.

A sharp crackle filled his ears, and his HUD and stealth both flickered out.

Komora sa kye?!

"Children of darkness, forever arrogant." She stalked towards him, the blade's sigil shining. "Let us see how you fight without your toys."

Her contempt—perhaps her hypocrisy—snapped him out of his shock. Both of those he could deal with. "So what's that then?" he retorted, indicating the blade, then darting at her with his knife flashing.

She blocked. The battle that ensued was anything but smooth or graceful, both of them just barely keeping the other at bay. The Galra was as fast as him, and far stronger; one wrong move would almost certainly be death.

One wrong move came too quickly.

It was just another parry, but she'd shifted the blow at the last second. He'd been prepared to resist forward; her strike drove him down. Between the rocks and the lingering pain, his left foot twisted awkwardly and gave way. He felt something in his knee snap out of place—not a break but a painful grinding sensation, locking the joint and sending him skidding to the ground. It actually worked briefly in his favor, as her follow-up strike scythed just overhead, but he wouldn't be so lucky again.

Desperately he rolled forward, taking her legs out from under her. At the same time, a shock ran through him; ghostly images flickered at the edges of his vision. For an instant he thought he'd somehow been concussed, then he realized—his suit was back online.

Not an instant too soon.

He vanished.

It took the enemy just a few moments to recover, but those few moments were all he needed. As she raised her blade again he lunged for the nearest support, falling into a shadowy crevice and bracing. The wave still hit him—his suit's systems went out again—he remained motionless, barely daring to breathe, watching the Galra as she scanned the area.

Even without the active systems online, chameleon suits were built for passive stealth, and he knew how to best shield himself in the darkness. Would it be enough? If this came back to combat, his chances were slim to none…

She sheathed her blade. And waited. For a moment her gaze passed right over him, and he stared back at her, unflinching. An old mantra echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.

Dalzeran, forever shield the children of shadows in your darkness…

As if in response to his plea, the Galra shook her head and grumbled something in her own tongue. And then she turned away. A moment later, he realized why she'd given up—a shrill, buzzing siren was echoing over the grounds. Whatever Vex-Cha emergency services were on deck to respond to a reactor malfunction had arrived.

Pidge didn't move until his suit reset itself again, and he could vanish into full stealth. His left knee nearly gave out the second he stood; adjusting his balance he kept himself standing by sheer will, testing the leg to see what it could do. Not much. Fine. Rather than scrambling up the buttress as he usually might have, he fell back against it, then looked around to be certain the coast was clear.

Mijtairra sa kye…

He bent over and adjusted a couple of straps over his knee into a makeshift compression splint. It was enough to let the leg take his weight for a few moments. Not optimal, but sufficient. All that mattered now was getting the hell out of here.

With one last look around, he once again ran for it.

And to think he'd wanted the damn fight… perhaps she hadn't been wrong about his arrogance, either. He would have to do better.

*****

"It was the Commander… um, I mean… it was the Mustard! Smuggling the lead shielding into Galaxy Garrison!"

There had been several dramatic accusations made since they'd started game night, but Cam had barely gotten his out before it became the most dramatic of all. Not because of the AWS Mustard, or lead shielding, or anything like that. More because he'd just barely finished speaking when the rec room hatch burst open, admitting a stumbling ninja who wordlessly fell over the nearest couch, gasping for breath.

"Eeeep!"

"Shit!"

"What the…"

"Holy fucking ninja!"

Several people had jumped up at Pidge's entry, including Flynn, who remembered a second after doing so that he was literally in another city. Jace was the only one who actually approached, immediately all business. "Ninjerk? What happened?"

"I'm fine… just ran back here… from the museum…"

He'd what? "Porra… okay 'fine' is something I'm fucking positive you're not."

"Let him catch his breath," Keith ordered, taking a step closer himself.

Not everybody listened to that. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah, did you succeed in your commander-approved theft?"

"Maybe let him breathe like the commander said?"

"Kir sinrevara…" Pidge barely noticed he hadn't spoken in English, and didn't worry about it. Unfastening the pouch at his side, he produced the relic, which glittered brilliantly beneath the rec room lights. It ought to suffice for an answer.

"…It's bling," Lance said, blinking.

"It's totally bling," Hunk agreed.

Pidge had only a general sense of what that meant, but it seemed accurate enough. "Whole museum… was 'bling'… except the Galra."

To the shock of exactly no one, Lance's expression went dark. "Did you kill it?"

"Were you seen?" Keith asked at the same time. "Followed? Do we need to take off right now?" The video link to the hotel room was still on, and he glanced over at it for a moment; Hunk and Flynn both caught his look and nodded their understanding. If the Bolt had to launch and circle back, that was what they'd do.

Looking mildly irritated—well, mildly more irritated than his default expression of mild irritation—Pidge straightened and turned to lean back against the couch rather than slumping over it. "I didn't kill her." Not for lack of trying. "She tried to follow, but I lost her. I came back through the spaceport under stealth to be sure."

"Fuck." Lance's tone became both colder and oddly hopeful. "At least injure her a bit?"

"Lance. Enough."

"Dude…"

"What?" Noting that Daniel was giving him a weird look, he reluctantly decided maybe it was time to dial it down. "Fine." He clenched his jaw and looked back to Pidge.

The ninja was scowling deeper now. "I am not here to amuse you with war stories, Lieutenant." He shifted a little bit, seemingly uncomfortable on his left leg. What was even more uncomfortable was the smear of blood the motion revealed on the couch behind him.

"Uh…"

"That's not good…"

"…Sick bay. NOW."

The last thing Pidge felt equipped for right now was going to sick bay. Getting here had taken everything he had, taking another few steps might push him over the edge. "It's not my blood, Doctor. Mostly."

Keith frowned. "It might be best to let him check you over, Pidge." He was up and pacing, drawing a look of discomfort from Sven that he ignored.

"Yessir." It probably would be, at that. "I do think I dislocated a kneecap, it's inconvenient."

"…Know what, I'll be the fucking judge of that," Jace scowled. "Get on that couch."

"Yeah, do that pokey bedside manner you have," Lance agreed; next to him Daniel was wincing.

"That sounds very inconvenient." It wasn't the word he'd have chosen.

Vince had moved a bit closer to Pidge, wanting to get a better look at the relic. He'd cringed too. "Dude, ow? You should have told him that sooner…"

"Maybe. Here." His roommate handed him the artifact, since he was closest, and he accepted it without a second thought.

A concussive force seemed to slam into him, white-hot sparks filling his vision and racing over his skin. Something like a flurry of stars glimmered before him. Just for a moment. He was too stunned to even try to focus, giving a strangled gasp, and then he collapsed in a heap as everything went black.

Pidge sprang back as sparks burst around the artifact, dropping a hand to his knife before fighting the reflex down. Then he landed on his injured leg and dropped to the floor himself, cursing.

"What the fuck?!"

"Fucking…!"

"Faex…" If Flynn could've jumped through the damn datapad he would have, one of his wrenchlings being hurt was bad enough.

Jace was looking between the two of them, taking a split second to triage the situation. One injured leg and an uncertain blood source versus who the hell even knew—it didn't exactly take long to prioritize, and even less when Pidge waved him off. "Established parameters here, Doctor, check him."

"Already on it." He knelt and checked Vince's pulse, which seemed a little quick but not worryingly so. Of course it would be a little quick after that.

"Ow…" The engineer came to as the medic was counting, looking up to see Keith and Lance peering down at him with concern. "…Ugh. Did I spark?"

"…Yeah, 'spark', that's what you fucking did."

"There was definitely sparkage."

"Feels like a truck hit me." He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it; the room spun violently. "Gonna stay down here."

"Might be best," Keith agreed, expression still filled with worry. "Just let Doc check you over."

"Monitor data transmitted, at least." He wasn't sure he expected anything useful from that—hadn't happened so far—but it was better than not transmitting. "How's your vision?"

"Um, it was blurry, but clearing up…"

As the medic did his thing, Lance noted the relic Vince had dropped and carefully picked it up. Nothing happened, which was both a relief and a strange disappointment. Turning it over in his hands, he took in the carvings and the inlay before reaching the crystal that formed the bracelet's centerpiece.

And he nearly dropped the damn thing again. "Oh fucking FUCK, fuck me!"

"…What else is wrong?"

"Lance, language." Keith's admonishment got him a look from Sven. Did he just steal my line? Then again, he supposed he'd stolen it first.

"Forget my fucking language, look at this symbol!" He held it out for the commander to look at. "Remember it? You know, from the temple of hell?"

"I'm so glad I know what that is now," Daniel muttered.

"You're fucking kidding."

"Cevete…"

Accepting the artifact, Keith looked at the crystal and shivered slightly. Sure enough, he recognized the anvil-like rune shimmering there, the yellow symbol from the temple. And the bracelet's metal was yellow… "You think that was a reaction like we had, then?"

"I mean…" Lance looked down at Vince, remembered the red metal's warmth, and couldn't help thinking this reaction seemed more or less the opposite. "Maybe? I don't know, that was pretty violent."

"I don't think we can rule it out."

"Is what reaction like what?" Vince made another ill-fated attempt to sit up; it didn't go much better than the first. His question was equally ill-fated; the others were rolling.

"Different metals," Jace said grimly, then lowered his voice. "Still never quite ruled out tailored bioweapons, just saying."

"Bioweapons?!" Daniel echoed.

"Bio…? But… I sparked and it… I thought there were stars?" Even to himself, Vince's voice sounded ragged, and he opted to lay back again. You're making no sense. Or maybe it was the chaos surrounding him that was making no sense. Or why not both? It was probably both.

"Bioweapons were not a part of the temple of hell story!" Daniel glared around the room. "And that feels like it should be a big part of it."

"No." Taking the relic back, Lance motioned for Daniel to come closer. "Come over here and touch this, kid."

He looked less than enthused. "You want me to touch the potential bioweapon?"

"Yeah, it's gonna be fine." Lance poked the metal a few times to make the point.

"…Okay." Approaching and giving the pilot a very skeptical look, Daniel slowly reached out and touched the artifact. Nothing happened. "It just feels like metal?"

"See? Nothing—"

"—Okay you know what, fucking stop it!" Jace snapped, looking up from Vince and glowering. "Before we start just having everyone poke the magic bracelet with the temple-of-hell symbol, how about you fuckers let me deal with the two who are already injured?"

Keith looked back at him. He was worried and off-balance, and what came out was more of a reflexive protest than a carefully considered response. "We aren't keeping you from your duties?"

The medic's death glare went up to eleven. "No, but I can only treat one person at once, so maybe don't fucking tempt fate with anyone else until I catch up!"

"…Okay, that's a fair point," Lance admitted with a slight shrug.

"Doc seems a little irritated," Daniel murmured to the pilot, who snorted.

"It's how we know he's breathing."

Pidge had gotten himself draped over the couch again, and was watching Vince worriedly. "I would like to have my kneecap back in place before we discuss anything interesting," he pointed out to support Jace's argument. "It's a distraction."

"I think we'd like to actually be present for whatever happens next, also," Flynn said quietly; Hunk shot him a doubtful look.

"We would?"

"…I would."

Shrug. "Okay, we would."

"Alright, here's the plan." Keith motioned for silence. "We'll table this for the moment, get people patched up, and see what Kleid and Garrett can learn tomorrow. Doc, are you content working in here or do you need help getting them to sick bay?"

"Sick bay would be better. I want a look at Vince's monitor data to see what we're really risking before anyone else even touches that fucking thing."

That was quite possibly the most reasonable thing Jace had ever said on this mission. "Okay. Lance, you're in charge of the artifact for now. Let's get to it."

*****

Romelle had been studying diligently; nearly every time Lotor visited her quarters he found her immersed in a book or data display. As always, it pleased him to see her taking things so seriously. This courtship nonsense really wasn't nearly so bad as he'd feared…

With luck, that would continue. "Diplomatic histories again, a'kuri?"

She startled a bit, then stood and curtsied. "Apologies, my sincline—I wasn't expecting you." She smiled. "The histories are fascinating."

"I'm… glad you think so." Lotor couldn't quite wrap his head around the concepts of diplomacy and fascinating being conflated, but if it pleased her, so much the better. She would be a fine advisor in such matters when he took the throne. Perhaps he could even get away with placing her as his regent, to let him spend some time on the front lines where he belonged…

…Probably not. She was still no Drule. But in any case, her interest in what he found so grating could only benefit him in the future, and ought to be encouraged.

Right now, though, he was here to discuss a topic he did find interesting. "There is a celebration coming up," he informed her, stepping closer and taking her hand. "The planet Arus has finally been pacified, and with it our most recent wave of conquest is complete. The festivities will begin soon, and I will desire my dear a'kuri at my side through them all…"

She might have flinched slightly at the mention of Arus, but covered it quickly. "What sort of festivities?"

"Feasts, gladiator battles, even wargames among the fleets." He smiled, baring his fangs slightly. "I've even managed to convince my father to allow me a place of honor aboard one of the flagships for the opening wargame. You will join me, of course?"

Romelle blinked. Wargames? She wasn't quite certain what to make of it. She remembered well the last battle she'd observed—the Polluxian fleet facing off against pirate hordes. That had not at all been a matter of entertainment, and it had been painful to observe. Perhaps this would be more helpful, although…

"Are people actually injured in these… games, sincline?"

The question seemed to startle him, then he chuckled. "Only a rare few. The fleets engage in simulated combat to see who will act as the vanguard of the next battles. An important test. Actually losing ships and warriors would rather negate their purpose." What seemed like true amusement flashed in his eyes. "But every celebration, a few perfectly good warriors will fail to strap themselves in while under fire, and the simulation is quite realistic."

Romelle herself couldn't quite help but giggle. "I would be honored to join you, and learn more about battle… and I promise to strap myself in properly."

Lotor laughed. Actually laughed. And as a slight blush sprang to her cheeks, Romelle felt like things were going quite well.

*****

Allura's return was somber. While the people were happy to see her back safe, the focus was purely on her father. She was there when he was stripped of all his worldly possessions, leaving with them as the priests began the more eternal part of preserving his body. Now in her private section of the shelter, the items neatly sitting in front of her, she had to pick which of his possessions he would continue to carry with him through time.

So many memories echoed around each item, but the pendant had more pressing concerns for her in the present. It may hold the answers she sought… while in Black's den she had seemed forced somehow not to open it, her need to know had only become stronger now. Working her grip about the pendant, she tried once more. Again, there was a sense of something working against her. She wiggled her fingers, stretching, tightening her grip on it until she was pulling with all her strength.

As she continued her struggle to pry the pendant open, the golden marks on her cheeks suddenly started to burn. Pain stabbed in front of her eyes and she gasped, but she didn't let go, she couldn't let go…

And suddenly Black's voice echoed through her mind. "Royal cub, stop!"

Stunned at the outburst, Allura stopped what she was doing, letting the pendant fall into her lap. "Is this not…" Her voice was a whisper. Could the Lion of Storms even hear her speak, where she was? She had to try. "Is this not something that will help wake you?"

"It can… but… not complete." Black sighed as exhaustion sought to take him again. "Time is not right… missing…" With that, the great lion fell silent, a soft rumble of thunder easing him back into his sleep.

Of course. Allura shook her head slightly, frustrated with herself. Once more I'm forgetting that there is more to this.

Carefully wrapping the pendant in its own ribbon and placing it just in front of her, she looked at another of her father's possessions. A booklet he had been carrying with him. It was the last book he'd been keeping his notes in; the one she hadn't yet read. She wondered if perhaps it held the clues she needed, the answer to waking the other lions and Black fully.

Before she could pick the notebook up, a small tap came from the door. Looking up she found Coran with a small tray of food.

"I'm sure your appetite is not with you, your highness. But I've brought a small something for you. The grander schemes of life still require sustenance," he said with a soft smile.

Allura couldn't stop the small laugh. He was correct; she wasn't hungry at all, despite having already missed a couple of meals. Taking the tray anyway and poking at the food, she made her way back to the assortment of items and returned to poring over them.

Coran noted the sharpness in her eyes, pleased and relieved to see his Princess was not completely broken emotionally. Taking a seat on a chair nearby, he studied her for a bit before asking something that had been weighing on him.

"Princess… I've been a friend to your father for as long as I can remember. There were those who thought I could almost be thought of as a brother to him. But it never took a governess correcting me to know I was not truly family."

Allura looked towards him, curious. "Coran?"

He closed his eyes and went on. "There was always something… sort of like an inside joke, one might say, that hovered within your family. Not a malicious kind of joke, just one that never left that circle. Yet every family member seemed to know it. Nearly all of the royal court either missed or dismissed it, but I was always curious… I finally talked to your father about it."

Though he was dancing around the issue, Allura thought—perhaps felt—she knew where this was going. Maybe it was the way he glanced down at the pendant, a strangely knowing look in his eyes. "And?"

Tilting his head back, he paused a moment before continuing. "He understood my curiosity, it didn't anger him the way it might have. But he told me he couldn't explain it… he couldn't even tell me why he couldn't explain it. He didn't know that himself." Looking back at Allura, he exhaled slowly. "Over time, your father seemed to find a way to let me know, indirectly. His hobby… the old Lion tales. There was a reason for his trying so hard to find them. Something hidden in them." Focusing in on her facial features, searching for a response, he lowered his voice, "Perhaps this defense system he was seeking out?"

Allura could see the worry in Coran's face. The fear of being on a wild firefowl chase in a time of need. Taking his hands in hers, she offered a reassuring nod. "My father was so close to succeeding… I must and will finish this task. My life is for Arus, to protect and to see it thrive, and I intend to carry out his work. I promise."

"Then I shall hold you to it, and see you protected from distraction." He bowed his head over their clasped hands. "And if they are connected, if this is real… anything I can do to help you, to protect Arus…"

She smiled. "I know. Thank you, Coran."

Giving a soft squeeze to Allura's hands, Coran looked back up to her and returned the smile. "Now how about you eat some of the food I've brought you, and I'll help you with the sorting of your father's final possessions. That at least isn't a burden you should carry alone."

Allura gave a soft chuckle and returned to the food—still more poking than actually eating—while Coran made his recommendations. As she listened, she found her thoughts drifting back to the pendant. No doubt it would take more time than she wished before she could use it to awaken the lions. If she left it with her father, it would most likely be safer… kept secure in his tomb, rather than with her where it might draw attention. She would make sure that it would be among the final items laid to rest with him. It would simplify things. And when the time came to retrieve it, to wake the lions from their sleep, she would go to her father's side… it would be right.

With that thought, the food was a little bit easier to eat.

*****

So we're back! (The holidays were uh, even crazier than expected. But we promised January!) And we're switching to a shiny new posting schedule of new chapters on Wednesdays. New year, new logistics, same crazy Explorer Team.