(On the Hunt) Chapter 30

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 30

Sol Adroce

"…You're kidding with this, right?"

Flynn was standing on the mat in the gym, opposite Pidge. But it wasn't Pidge he was questioning, nor who he was glaring at; that was directed at Sven, who was running this sparring session in Kogane's absence, and who was giving the engineer his most utterly impassive look in return.

"No. No I'm not."

"You've got this," Lance encouraged from his position along the wall, though he might have had his fingers crossed behind his back. He'd seen both of these two fight.

"No he doesn't," Pidge said calmly.

"I'm being fucking optimistic!" Lance scolded, at the same time Flynn turned his glare on the ninja.

"Okay, if you want to be that way about it…" He dropped into a defensive stance. "I outrank both of you. Just a reminder." That was all he had time to point out as Pidge charged him, telegraphing his first move. That was an opening even Flynn had seen enough to know how to counter; he ignored the feint, bracing himself, taking a light punch to the arm in exchange for not having his legs swept out from under him.

"Told you you got this!" Lance said brightly, tightening his crossed fingers. A moment later, a wholly unbothered Pidge popped up inside Flynn's guard and landed a sharp punch to his stomach; he winced. He so hasn't got this.

Flynn was very well aware he didn't have this. Still, he made the attempt, grabbing Pidge's arm and trying to throw him… except by the time he'd finished the throw, he no longer had a hold on the ninja. He paused, looking around warily.

His leg isn't even back to full yet… faex.

Vince was standing next to Cam with his eyes covered. "Is it over yet?"

"We're not that lucky… and neither is the chief."

"I assumed he'd want it to be fast."

The assumption wasn't wrong; Flynn hissed a few Latin curses as the ninja reappeared off to his right, dropped an elbow into his side, and darted away. Attempting to respond nearly put him flat on his face as his target suddenly wasn't there anymore… shit, he was fast. That much seemed obvious but there was fast, and then there was ninja fast. Every time Flynn thought he had something vaguely resembling an opening, it was gone in an instant. But every time he lunged Pidge cut around under his left side, so maybe…

He dropped into a crouch and sprang, lashing out at his left at the last second. Something connected. He felt the impact, heard a slight gasp, and stumbled forward off balance because really he hadn't expected that to work.

Whipping around he saw Pidge on the floor for a whole fraction of a second. Then he jumped up, grimacing and touching his ribs before dropping back into a defensive stance.

"Did I hit you?" Flynn asked, shocked.

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say; Pidge darted at him and jumped up, kicking him in the shoulder and sending him spinning to the floor.

"You don't need to worry about hurting me, Flynn."

Oh. He jumped to his feet and flipped his hair out of his eyes. "Who's worried about hurting you? I was enjoying the five seconds of this that haven't been embarrassing."

"Fair." Pidge sprang at him again.

This time the attack came sweeping in on his right. Or so he thought, until he made an attempt to counter and hit empty air. In a split second he'd lost track of the ninja entirely.

How…?!

Something hit him in the back of the knees, much too sudden for any hope of recovery. He dropped to the floor with a gasp, struggling for a moment to regain the wind he'd just had knocked out of him.

That probably could've gone worse.

Pidge stood over him, straightening slowly as he seemed to recognize the fight was finished. "Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

Flynn looked up and drew a sharp breath, just enough air for words. "I'll be fine… if we can just… pretend this never happened?" He was pretty certain he wouldn't be that lucky. Pidge might be okay with it. The others, well…

"See, you lasted more than a nanosecond!" Lance cheered, earning a glare from a very unappreciative engineer.

"I kind of wish we could see the Commander face off against Pidge," Cam mused to Vince, who'd slowly dared to uncover his eyes. "Would be interesting."

"Watching the ninja kick Kogane's ass would be interesting," Daniel agreed. "And entertaining." He already wished he'd had popcorn for this, adding Keith to the mix would only make him want it more.

Getting his breath back, Flynn stood and winced before stepping off the mat. "I'd like to see him kick the Viking's ass."

Pidge shrugged. "I'm willing."

That wasn't a fight Sven would have hated, really. But it wasn't on the schedule. "Who's next? Cam versus Jace, or Lance versus Daniel?"

"…Huh?"

"Viking, what the fuck have I done lately to merit that kind of insult?"

"Cam and Jace!" Lance and Daniel both yelled in unison; Sven eyed them disapprovingly. Their vote most certainly did not count in this situation.

Nor did Cam's, really. He was backing away from Jace as if he thought that would get him out of this. "Dude, I've seen what that crazy ass—I mean, what the Doc can do."

"You've seen Jace's ass?" Lance snorted. "I'm sorry."

"I wanna see 'em both!" Hunk declared, then blinked. "Uh, the fights, not the asses. Give 'em teams?"

"Hmm." Sven eyed the two pairs of teammates and considered that; he wasn't against the idea, though it didn't seem like an even match. Not that any of the one on one pairings he'd had planned were exactly even, but two against two was a slightly different beast. There was an obvious answer, of course. There was also a more amusing answer. "Okay, fine. Daniel and Jace versus Lance and Cam."

"…What?"

"Oh thank god."

"It evens things out," Sven explained with a shrug. "All Daniel ever seems to do on the mat is just stand there."

"Nuh-uh!" Daniel protested, offended. "I distracted Hunk once so the ninja could push him over!"

"His distraction was very useful," Pidge agreed, frowning slightly. "That doesn't explain every sparring session since—"

"—See! Ninja just said I was useful. That's the nicest thing he's ever said to me."

Sven gave a non-committal grunt. He was not changing the teams, no matter how much Daniel complained or the others glared. He barely even noticed when Jace was glaring at him anymore; it was kind of like him breathing.

Though he was taking it surprisingly in stride. "Hey, you guys have an advantage. I'm not gonna hurt you that badly when I'm the one that has to fix you."

"Alright fine, let's get this fucked up situation fucking over with." Lance stepped onto the mat and looked at Jace with narrowed eyes. "I'm ready for you this time."

"I'll bet."

Cam was stretching quietly, hoping something he'd learned from his sword training might carry over to here. It ought to, he thought. The discipline and defensive maneuvers, the ability to read a battle…

"Alright, Cam!" Lance moved next to him and smirked. "Prove you're a good Keith fanboy."

"…Fanboy?" He glared at the pilot, then reconsidered, turning it on Daniel instead. "Really?!"

"Was that a secret?" Hunk whispered; next to him, Vince shook his head.

"No."

"I'm not a fanboy!"

Lance wondered if the kid really thought anyone believed that, but it wasn't the time. "I was using it in a positive sense."

"Uh huh." It got him a doubtful look, but Cam also seemed to realize that it wasn't the time to argue over it. "So what's our strategy, hotshot?"

…Nope, not gonna have that. "First, I am fucking uncomfortable with you calling me hotshot. Second, you take Daniel."

"Third," Jace interrupted, "try dodging." He lunged on the last syllable, trying to catch Lance off guard, but he sidestepped just in time.

Though he was absolutely planning to hang back and let Jace do all the work, Daniel couldn't resist a little sniping… despite his better judgment trying to stop it. Don't comment, don't comment, remember your comic, don't comment… "You chose an Explorer Team over your pick of commands to have Kogane as your commander. You're totally a fanboy."

"Why you…"

"He did what?" Jace had swung around to grab Cam from behind after missing Lance. He'd known their comms officer had chosen to be here, but he sure as hell hadn't heard why. Though, it probably wasn't the time for that either; he knew Daniel was going to try to get him to do all the work, and wasn't planning to cooperate. He threw Cam at him instead.

Taking advantage of the momentum, Cam almost got to Daniel before the faster gunner slipped away. "I swear, I catch you, I'm sticking your head in a toilet!" That was probably not a valid sparring tactic, but they were way beyond that now.

"Swirly? Really?" Thanking several gods that he was faster than his roommate, Daniel darted around the mat out of his reach. "Careful, I don't think your precious commander would approve."

"Yeah you'd better run!"

Shaking his head, Lance turned back to his own opponent; Jace was similarly distracted by the fiasco sharing the mat with them. Grinning, he moved up and landed a solid punch to the small of his back. "Over here, Doc."

"Oh fuck you!" Stumbling forward and spinning with the momentum, the medic spun around and kicked him hard in the kneecap.

Lance had in fact been participating in the extra sparring sessions lately, and was able to get in a solid kick of his own in return. "I fucking hate you." Having countered instead of dodging, he didn't have time to react when Jace grabbed his arm and dragged him to the mat.

"Mutual, caralho."

Eyeing Pidge at his side, Flynn couldn't help thinking maybe he'd gotten off easy after all. Pidge himself was watching with a somewhat concerned expression; after a few more moments he looked over at Sven. "Sir, are they actually learning anything from this?"

"It's a trainwreck," Vince muttered; Hunk chuckled.

"It's awesome!"

Sven looked at the ninja with a patient smile. "They don't learn, Pidge. The hope is that they get hit hard enough to possibly stimulate brain cell growth."

The other three nearly choked on their laughter; Pidge blinked. "Oh. I didn't think that was how concussions worked in humans?"

"Not humans. Just them."

"But aren't they—" He was cut off by a sharp nudge from Flynn. It was enough to convince him to stop that line of questioning, though he still wasn't certain why.

Lance had managed to flip Jace to the floor—he had not used wholly conventional sparring techniques to accomplish it—and had him pinned to the mat, though given Jace specialized in ground fighting that was only so much of a win. He wasn't giving any openings. In fact, he was looking at the pilot with a bit of skepticism. "You have no idea what to do now, do you."

"Usually when I'm in this position it is a lot more friendly."

"Why, are they dead?"

"No, but they're moaning." That got him an irritated look from Flynn, for reasons Flynn could not actually have explained.

"Seems legit." Shifting while Lance was distracted by the conversation, Jace kneed him hard in the groin.

"OW!" Rolling back off him, Lance stayed down on the mat, groaning in pain. "Fucking rude!"

"What?" Jace wasn't about to let him recover; he pounced, putting him into a chokehold. "To hear you tell it that was the biggest target…"

Rolling his eyes, Lance tapped out, still sputtering indignantly as the medic released him. "Wasn't hitting the jewels enough? Ow…" He gave a smirk that was maybe a bit more of a grimace; he'd actually had fun, despite the pain. "Fuck you." Jace just smirked back.

The kids were still at it. Or more accurately, Daniel was still dodging and weaving as Cam tried to barge after him. "You know, you really need to work on your agility and speed…"

Scowling, Cam took advantage of the split second's pause and lunged, tackling him to the mat. "Maybe you need to work on your mouth getting you in trouble."

"Oof!" He kicked his roommate in the side as best he was able, trying to wriggle free, though Cam was quite a bit stronger than he was. "If you wanted on top of me all you had to do was ask!"

"…Wait, what!?"

Sven rolled his eyes. Here we go again. Lance and Jace exchanged shrugs as they watched the kids banter.

"We still do it better."

"Totally."

Keeping Daniel pinned, Cam largely forgot about actually sparring. "Why are you such an ass today?"

Blinking, Daniel gave up his attempts to break free—they weren't getting him anywhere anyway. Am I being an ass? No, that wasn't the question. Am I being more of an ass than any other time?

Still very sore, Lance got to his feet and scowled slightly at the scene. "Daniel, knee his junk!" Then he grinned at Sven. "See, I learned something." The Viking did not look impressed.

Before Daniel could carry out that instruction, Cam rolled clear, and Jace snorted. "Hey, he learned something too—wait, Daniel's on my team!"

"Oh yeah. Oops." Lance shrugged as Cam gave him a mildly betrayed look. "Habit." This wasn't fair, he was always on Daniel's side.

The kid had taken the opportunity to scramble away from his opponent again, and had also come to a conclusion. "I'm really not acting any different than normal, man."

"You had to spout off about me like that?" Cam pouted. "Like… I thought we were starting to be friends?"

"Oh my god, this shit again? I can't even talk without you getting your feelings hurt!" He looked to Sven, who was pointedly ignoring him. "I really don't want to do this anymore."

Shaking his head slowly, Jace offered his own encouragement. "Fucking punch each other, you two!"

They didn't. "I just don't like being talked about when I'm right there…"

That got him a very confused look. "Would you rather I talk about you when you're not here?" Daniel was pretty sure that wasn't how it was supposed to work.

Hunk crossed his arms. There was definitely not much sparring going on anymore. "Uh, boss Viking?"

"Yes, Hunk?"

"Shouldn't we uh… do somethin' else?"

"Probably." The navigator sighed; he'd done his best with what he had. "Alright, enough, you two. Jace wins." Jace's team decidedly did not win. He really wasn't at all surprised.

"Damn right I do." Jace smirked.

Lance raised an eyebrow. "You want a trophy?"

"Don't need one, already got your jewels."

"I knew you wanted me." He shot the medic a wink and received a dramatic eyeroll in return.

Flynn was suddenly annoyed again. And he was still just a tad irked at Sven for his earlier fight. "I have an idea, how about Holgersson fights Hunk next?"

"I approve of a Hunk versus Viking matchup," Lance agreed with a grin.

That was actually what Sven had been planning on; he'd seen Hunk fight enough of the others. The man had very little technique to speak of, but unlike several of his teammates, he didn't need it. Sven thought it would be a nice challenge. "Alright." He stepped onto the mat and motioned for the big engineer to join him. "Don't harm me too much."

"Huh… I might actually notice him punchin' me, yeah?" Hunk pouted a moment, then grinned. "Sounds fun!"

That left one person, and only one person, without a designated sparring partner. Watching Sven and Hunk square off, Vince hoped against hope for that to continue. I am not pointing it out, don't notice, just forget that I'm not matched up with anyone…

"Who's mechka fighting?"

Glaring at Pidge, for what was certainly the first time in his life Vince found himself wishing for sparks. The ninja looked back at him and shrugged; he'd thought it was a valid and in fact important question.

Sven looked back at them and shrugged also. "We have an odd number, so Vince gets to choose who he's matched up against."

Oh. Oh. That didn't sound bad at all. Although… "Can I choose no one?"

The navigator's impassive look took on a hint of sympathy. "Afraid not."

"We can give 'im time to think it over, yeah?" Hunk took a bracing stance and stuck one arm up like a sword. "En garde!" Chuckling, Sven turned to face him again, then became serious as he debated ways of throwing him off balance.

Really, Vince didn't need that much time; as the two started to fight he looked around and made his decision. "Daniel."

"Dude?" The gunner glared. "I thought we were friends? Or at least semi friends?"

"Precisely why. We'll be awful together and not get too bruised."

…He had a point there. "Alright." Frown. "No rolling around on the ground though. Everyone's sweat on the mat getting all over me? It's nasty."

That was Vince's least favorite part too; he shuddered. "Agreed."

Grinning, Daniel walked over and gave him a fistbump… which was probably the only thing resembling a punch either of them was actually going to land.

Vince was okay with that.

*****

Daniel had insisted—perhaps begged was the better word—to be allowed to get some time in at the helm. After all, he might have picked up some rust while he was imprisoned in that stupid cast. Or more to the point, he might have needed to remind everyone he was good at something after that stupid, stupid sparring session.

Off to one side, Lance was standing and trying not to look too amused by the kid's excitement—he wasn't doing a great job of it. On the other side, Sven was sitting and not really trying that hard to hide his skepticism—it wasn't really even related to Daniel. He was almost always hovering around the bridge when the Bolt left hyperspace, even if it was just a routine waypoint. And this one was slightly less routine; they were coming in on the heels of a passing radiation storm. Not that he hadn't triple checked the timing, repeatedly, but he was going to be a little edgy nonetheless.

It being Daniel flying didn't necessarily help, to be sure, but it wasn't the issue. And he handled the breach just fine, smoothly bringing the Bolt to a stop in real space and looking around as if to demand recognition of his success.

Lance gave him a grin.

Sven had mapped a scouting post as this particular stop. He liked to use them when he could; the data was better. It was visible off to the ship's port side as a silvery blur against the dark expanse of space. Cam opened the comms. "Bravo Romeo Waystation, this is ACS Jupiter's Bolt reporting in. Routine waypoint breach, we'll be out of your way in fifteen."

The acknowledgment should have been quick, especially given the lack of other traffic in the area. But there was only silence.

Frowning, he checked the frequencies. He'd been on the correct one, but… cycling through a few he abruptly came across a low series of repeating pulses. Setting it to trace, he opened the ship's internal comms. "Commander, I'm not getting a response from the waystation, and we're picking up a distress signal."

Immediately Lance's eyes went to Daniel. "Kid, back in your seat."

"Aww man…" The gunner gave his best pleading look. "Can't we see if it's actually trouble before you kick me out?"

"No." Do not give in. Kid's puppy eye game was strong.

"Dammit." Sulking, Daniel relinquished the helm and returned to the gunnery console. "I never get to fly in the fun situations."

Not that Lance blamed him for wanting to, but… "There's a reason for that, kid."

"Are you saying I'm not a good pilot?" He wasn't sure whether to be offended or hurt; he could figure that out when he got the answer.

"I'm saying you're not fully trained yet."

Offended it was. "I graduated the Academy! That's them literally saying 'you're fully trained'!"

"Not by my standards."

Very offended. "Whatever."

"You'll get plenty of flight time later, Brennan." Keith swept onto the bridge with Jace on his heels; he'd rather be where he could hear if he was needed than back in his damn battle station. "McClain, get us moving towards the waystation."

"Will do." More accurately, was already doing. He knew how this went.

Back in the engine bay, Flynn had noticed the ship starting to move again, and also knew it was entirely too soon for that. They'd barely even started the system checks. "Kogane, what's going on?"

"Not sure yet, Kleid." Keith turned to their comms officer. "Starr, what exactly do we have here?"

"Seems like a basic distress beacon signal—universal pattern, no voice or detail. It's coming from near the waystation, which hasn't answered our check-in."

"The signal isn't from the station?"

"No, sir. Relatively close, but there is some clear distance between the two."

Hmm… eyeing the screens, Sven considered the timing again. "There was a radiation storm passing through here. They may have been caught in it."

"That would make sense, sir," Cam agreed. A deep space storm could mangle advanced communications systems, which would explain the beacon. "We're coming into sensor range."

It took another few seconds for the Bolt to get a solid fix on the source of the distress signal, then the image came up on screen: a large, solid hulk of metal with several rows of dorsal spines and an array of weapon ports on the bow. It wasn't quite a dreadnought, but it was absolutely a weapon of war.

"…What kind of ship is that?"

"That's Drule," Lance said quietly, hands tightening on the controls.

"Santhula-class strike cruiser," Flynn clarified, staring at the bay's monitors with wide eyes. The Santhula was a common ship, one of the workhorses of the Fourth Kingdom, but it sure as hell wasn't supposed to be here.

Keith echoed his thoughts. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"Um, sir… the distress signal?" Cam had refined the trace at this range and was wincing at it. "It's definitely from them."

"A trap?"

"Maybe they were just in the neighborhood and decided to pop in for some tea and crumpets."

Lance turned to Daniel and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know what a crumpet is?"

Daniel opened his mouth to retort that of course he did before realizing he actually didn't. It sounded like some kind of musical instrument, and that didn't make a damn bit of sense. "…Are you really gonna pick apart my pilot training and my sarcasm?"

Smirk. "I'm not here to make your life puppies and rainbows."

"What are you here for, then?" The thought that he maybe ought to just chill crossed Daniel's mind and was promptly rejected. Not that it mattered; as it so often did, the universe conspired to shut him up, this time coming in the form of a transmission from the Drule ship.

"They're hailing us, sir."

"They're what now?" Keith murmured, then answered Cam's unvoiced question with a nod. If they wanted answers, may as well get them right from the source.

A short crackle of static, and a voice with a heavy, almost musical accent came over the comms. "Hail and honorable greetings, Alliance vessel! This is Blood-Captain Cholik of the 6-XV Starlurk, on a sanctioned deep trading mission for the Sixth Kingdom. We would discuss a matter with you."

"The Sixth?" Cam echoed quietly. "They're… a ways from home?"

"Very far from home," Sven agreed. Sixth Kingdom space was far spinward of Earth, on the complete opposite side of the Interior Expanse from where they were now. Which might actually make a little more sense of this situation… if they truly needed help, they couldn't very well just call some of their own people.

Keith frowned, thinking through what he knew here; it wasn't much. Of the four Drule kingdoms with a known presence on the Orion Spur, the Sixth was by far the most confusing. The Fourth and Ninth Kingdoms were straightforwardly interested in conquest, the Seventh in favors and trade. Analysts couldn't quite discern what the Sixth was about. They were considered friendly, despite lacking any real diplomatic contact; their machinations usually opposed the Fourth, which was a de facto benefit to the Alliance. And they had been known to render aid to stranded vessels—albeit under rather odd conditions.

The rank was tugging at his memory, too. Blood-Captain… ominous as it sounded, it meant something more innocuous. A Blood-Captain had gained their command through inheritance, rather than appointment. It was a purely civilian rank. And the Alliance and Supremacy weren't actually at war, regardless.

But it was also a capital strike cruiser.

Keith let his mind race for as long as he dared wait, then came to his decision and nodded slowly. "This is Commander Kogane of the ACS Jupiter's Bolt. What matter would you like to discuss?"

"We had the misfortune to exit our jumpgate in the midst of a radiation storm," Cholik explained. "Our hydrogen collectors were damaged, and now our supplies are critically low. We came to this waystation in search of aid, but as you can see it is out of commission."

How do we know you didn't put it out of commission? The thought came and went as the internal comms crackled.

"Sir, scans of some anomalous readings indicate most of their weaponry has been removed. Reading what look to be cargo management arrays. They do have capital firepower at their disposal, but far from a Santhula's usual armament."

"The station's power levels are well below operating standards, but the reactor is online," Cam reported as soon as Pidge finished. "Pinging their transmitter gives an all clear. They can't possibly have been attacked—they must have temporarily evacuated because of the storm."

Things were starting to make sense… Keith nodded. "We'd be happy to assist, Blood-Captain. What is it that you need?"

"We issue a sol adroce challenge for twelve cubic standards of protium."

"…What?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, did he just say challenge? Why?" Sol adroce challenges were something well known to the Alliance—the Hydrans had historically made good use of them against their erstwhile brethren. In their simplest form such challenges were proxy battles over resources.

Resources they'd just come here to freely offer, for hell's sake.

Though, the particular demand was a problem… Flynn stared blankly at the comms for a moment, shaking his head. The Alliance didn't know a great deal about Drule fusion technology. Only that it was grossly inefficient in comparison to their own, but capable of utilizing protium—common hydrogen—rather than heavier isotopes. These two properties were assumed to be related. Drule reactors could utilize other forms of hydrogen, but when you could use the most common element in the universe why bother with anything else?

This seemed like a pretty good reason, actually. "Kogane, we barely even carry protium." What little there was belonged to the life support system; the backup tanks might not even hold the quantity the Drules wanted, but giving it up wasn't really ideal in either case. "But we have plenty of deuterium, hell, we can give them extra."

Keith nodded, turning back to the comms. "We came here to offer aid, Blood-Captain, no challenge required. We don't carry much protium, but we have deuterium to spare. We can give you more than enough to get you on your way."

There was a long enough pause from the Drule vessel that Cam frowned and checked the comms; the key did tend to stick every so often. Then, "A generous offer, Commander Kogane, and much appreciated. But honor demands we cannot simply accept whatever handout you are willing to give."

…And there was the rather odd condition. "And why not?"

"Whaaaat theeee fuuucccck," Lance hissed under his breath.

Alarms flashed a second later; Pidge spoke up, deadpan. "Sir, they have a weapons lock on us."

"Really." Flynn glanced over his shoulder to confirm—not that he doubted it, but it gave him a moment to try to make something resembling sense of this. Which was a fairly ill-fated venture; this situation did not lend itself to sense. "Really."

"Drules are weird," Hunk murmured, earning a fervent nod of agreement from Vince.

"I must reiterate, Commander: twelve standards of protium. Do you refuse?"

Daniel had not waited for an order to lock their weapons on the Starlurk in return, but even he knew better than to open fire without orders… in this situation, anyway. He looked up at Keith, who was staring dumbfounded at the screen. "…Give us a moment, Blood-Captain."

"Of course." He was awfully agreeable for someone with a capital weapons lock on them.

Shaking off the confusion as best he could, Keith exhaled slowly. "Can we fight them?"

"Our shields are solid. Just how much capital firepower are they packin'?"

"I can evade a good bit, but the Bolt isn't really made for it."

"I wouldn't recommend we attempt ship-to-ship combat. We lack the firepower, regardless of theirs."

Wonderful. He hadn't heard from his second in that discussion… "Kleid, options?"

"You might suggest that if they blow us up we definitely can't give them any protium," the chief engineer answered dryly. "Beyond that? The Sixth Kingdom's honor code is really not my area of expertise. Ask someone else."

All eyes on the bridge turned to Sven, who frowned slightly. "Do I look like my mother?"

Jace, being the only one of the team who'd actually met his mother, gave a small shrug. "There's a family resemblance." The navigator gave him a dirty look.

Sighing, Keith motioned for silence and for the channel to be opened again. May as well find out if they had any other choice. "What kind of challenge terms are you calling for, exactly? We aren't a combat vessel."

"As the challenger, we are prepared to engage in your preferred manner of combat."

Well that didn't narrow it down very much at all. "Verbal combat?" Daniel half-snarked.

"Risotto bake off," Vince suggested under his breath.

Jace offered the most serious suggestion. "Nonlethal hand to hand? If they're merchants do they really want to die over a few fucking hydrogen cells any more than we do?"

That was an excellent point, and drew a few nods. "Alright… open the channel, Starr." Keith took a deep breath. "We accept your challenge, Blood-Captain, and we see no reason for anything but our crews' strength and skill to decide this matter. Send a shuttle over… we'll fight you face to face." Turning, he dropped into his command chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn't used to his team being the sane part of the equation.

Cholik took a minute to respond again. "On your ship?"

"What, do we have cooties?" Lance muttered; Daniel snickered, Keith scowled.

"We don't have a shuttle. So, it's going to have to be here… is there a problem with those terms?"

Another pause. "Very well. We will send our five most skilled fighters to face yours."

Back in the engine bay, safely away from the comms, Vince couldn't quite help his first reaction. "Do we even have five skilled fighters?"

"Four and a half," Hunk suggested. That sounded about right.

Cholik continued. "But there are those among my crew who distrust Earthlings…" He sounded slightly irked, and Keith felt a momentary glimmer of sympathy. Suddenly he had a good idea of what had been causing those long pauses… the eternal struggles of command. "If our people are to be onboard your ship, we would request a show of good faith."

"What kind of show of good faith?"

"Allow the shuttle to bring some of your people to our vessel."

…Oh. Even more wonderful. It was a fair request, if Keith wanted to be wholly honest and unbiased about it, but the visceral reaction was hell no.

He wasn't the only one. "Wait, seriously?"

"Uh…"

"…Be a hell of a weird trap, yeah?"

"I hate to say you've got a point, but yeah? Their ship totally outclasses us, so they're gonna fucking what, make up some shit and count on us inviting them over so they can capture a couple people instead of just demanding surrender?"

"Yeah but they're also insisting on fighting us over us wanting to help them."

"This is the Sixth, though. I've heard of them issuing sol langure challenges for the right to render aid—let us help you or we'll blow you up!"

"They what… the fuck…?"

"Okay, enough!" Keith grimaced. They were all good points. It had to be his decision… though once again his second hadn't given any input. "Kleid, your thoughts?"

Flynn had thoughts, alright. They were probably not the most intelligent thoughts he'd ever had, but nonetheless, he had them. "I'm not saying you should take that deal, Kogane." He knew perfectly well when his commander was trying to stall for time. "I'm just saying that if you take that deal, I'd love very little more than to see the inside of an actual Drule strike cruiser."

Pidge snorted; Lance side-eyed the comms. "What?"

"I'll go over," Daniel volunteered, raising his hand; he certainly wasn't going to be one of the 686's five best fighters, and anything was better than sitting over here doing nothing.

"What?" Lance repeated, a bit more emphatically this time. This was not shaking out in a way he approved of at all.

Vince was eyeing Flynn skeptically, but the chief did have a point. How often did a chance like this come along? "I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but… can I go too?"

"What." Bad enough Flynn and Daniel wanted to go over; Vince was supposed to be the responsible one, and here he was encouraging this fuckery. Lance hunched over the helm and grumbled.

Sighing, Keith accepted the inevitable. It wasn't like they had an alternative plan, anyway. "Alright, Blood-Captain. Come bring your people over and you can pick three of ours up." He turned back to the internal comms. "Think you three can smuggle your weapons over? Just in case?"

"Your comms are open, Earthlings." He jumped at Cholik's voice, then glared at Cam, who blushed bright red. "You are welcome to bring weapons; you will find we keep our word."

"I hit the button, sir!" Stupid sticking transmission key.

"…Alright. We'll be sending our people over with their sidearms, then. You understand."

"Indeed. Our brethren have made such measures understandable, but we have bargained well and it is done. We are on our way."

As Cam made very certain to have the comms closed this time, Daniel grinned. He could hear Lance grumbling, which only made him that much more excited to go over to the other ship. "Finally, some fun!"

"We'll all get to have fun," Pidge agreed. He was grinning too; Vince hid behind Hunk. He did not like it when the ninja grinned.

"Always interesting." Sven shook his head. They might give the Drules some hydrogen, one way or another, but he couldn't help feeling what they really needed was a better navigator. Part of him really wanted to volunteer to map them a path wherever they were going, but they might have to fight about that too… it wasn't worth it.

Keith watched the main screen as one of the Starlurk's shuttle bays slid open, then turned and headed for the hatch. "Alright, get ready and group at the forward cargo bay airlocks. Guess we've got a fight to win."

*****

The Starlurk's security officer was waiting in the shuttle bay, and she was somewhat annoyed to be doing so. It had been her insistence that they have some Earthlings come over as collateral, so she supposed it was only proper that she got stuck babysitting them, but she'd have preferred to be part of the battle.

Ah well… she stepped up to the boarding ramp as they exited. "Greetings, honored guests." Her tone did not wholly match her words. "I am Chartha, and I will oversee you during your stay."

The Earthlings weren't quite what she'd expected, in truth. The Sixth Kingdom had very little contact with the cunning creatures, but from the tales she'd heard she had expected something smaller, weaker… something clearly surviving on wits rather than power. Not so. They were not dissimilar in size or build to Drules, nor did they look as verminish as she'd have thought. The rounded ears were unsettling, though…

The one in the lead was tall and pale, and took her words quietly in stride. His companions were shorter, probably younger; one was tan and surly, the other dark and nervous. It was the surly one who looked at her and snorted. "I feel real honored by that, thanks."

"Daniel." The leader shot him a disapproving look. "Couldn't you at least let me look around the damn shuttle bay for a minute before you start being yourself?"

"Look around? You act like we just came over here to geek out."

"That's exactly why I came here, why did you come here?"

"Pretty much to annoy Lance."

"…Rings true." Shrugging, he turned back to Chartha. "Is that a triple-chamber generator I'm hearing?"

Looking between them, she bared her fangs in slight surprise. She had certainly not expected them to appreciate either the aesthetics or the technology of the vessel. "And if it is?"

He reacted with clear enthusiasm; the nervous one, who'd been half hiding behind him, perked up as well. "I mean, if your job is just to keep us here and glare at us we get it, but wouldn't telling us about the ship be more fun?"

"Are you kidding?" the one called Daniel muttered.

"Dude," the nervous one hissed, "you get to annoy Lance, let us have some fun too!"

"I could certainly tell you a bit about our vessel… it would be gratifying to see even Earthlings appreciate our craftsmanship." Chartha gave the surly one an unpleasant smile. "And if this one would prefer not to show such appreciation, I can have him locked on the shuttle while the other two of you accompany me."

Both the other two looked startled at that, but Daniel spoke first. "Dude! You wouldn't let her do that, would you?" In response they exchanged slow grins, then looked back at him. "…Would you?"

"Maybe."

"It's not ideal, but it's not out of the question."

Shortly afterwards, Chartha found herself leading three Earthlings from the shuttle bay; two excited, one sulking. At least she would get some amusement from this task after all.

*****

There was absolutely no mistaking Drules of the Sixth Kingdom for any other subrace. They had distinctly wolf-like features, and usually shorter and stockier builds. Cholik's force had arrived wearing simple tunics, rather than any sort of armor, and the blades they carried looked clearly ceremonial.

Keith couldn't help wondering if even they expected to win this challenge—then again, his own team didn't look much like the trained warriors they were. Even Pidge had not been wearing his chameleon suit when they'd breached. They'd gathered in the cargo bay once the shuttle departed: the five Drules on one side of the main cargo hatch, the five best fighters of the 686 on the other.

Choosing personnel had been complicated by the fact that they only had four melee specialists…

"How am I here again?" Lance grumbled, looking around the cargo bay.

"I believe you walked," Sven offered mildly; Pidge pointed to him and nodded in silent agreement. That earned them both a glare.

"Giant donut dude beat you at rock paper rocket launcher, I heard."

"Giant donut dude is, I repeat, a giant!" Hunk's absence actually had nothing to do with rock paper anything. Someone had to man the engine bay, namely the shields and the point defenses, in case things did go badly here. Cam had enough cross training to at least move the Bolt if needed, so he was on the bridge—Lance was better in a scrap, and that was the priority right now.

"Size isn't everything in combat, sir."

Calling him sir got the ninja even more of a glare, though Lance had given up trying to threaten him out of it. Because, well, it didn't work at all. "It helps."

"Your young warrior is wise." Cholik stepped forward and bowed; his eyes were on Keith and Raiden, the katana gleaming in the bay's floodlights. "What terms of victory shall we set? A blooding?"

"Uh, what now?"

The Drule bowed to Lance as well. "In a traditional nonlethal sol adroce challenge, drawing blood removes a combatant from the field. If you would prefer stricter rules we will comport with them."

No. No, they did not want stricter rules. "I'm okay with that."

"I'm good with it."

"Sure, could be worse."

Pidge nodded silently, and Keith looked up. "Fine."

"Then we are prepared." Stepping back, Cholik drew his shortsword, and his companions did the same.

"Totally different definitions of prepared," Lance muttered under his breath; Jace eyed him and snorted. Though it wasn't entirely from disagreement.

Pidge had been watching the Drules like a hawk from the moment they'd arrived on the Bolt—leaving their shuttle, crossing to one of the internal airlocks as it departed, returning to the middle of the cargo bay. There wasn't a lot to be learned from the observation, but seeing how they moved did tell him something. Now he stepped up beside Keith and whispered, "The Blood-Captain is the fastest of them, sir. I'll take him if you like."

Looking between the two of them, Keith nodded slowly. Even with a bit of a lingering limp, Pidge was faster than anyone else here. "Alright. Be careful." As usual, the ninja rolled his eyes at that sentiment; Keith stepped forward and took a defensive stance. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Immediately Pidge ran in, and Lance shook his head slightly. "He is way too excited about this."

That was probably true, Keith admitted, but right now enthusiasm was probably a benefit. Shrugging, he followed with his eyes on the next closest Drule, a muscular one who looked a bit older than his comrades. Perhaps the most veteran of them, then; a good opponent.

Jace darted in at the tall female Drule beside Keith's, wasting no time in getting her to the floor. He had to take a punch to do it, though, and hissed as pain shot through his ribs. Fuck, she's strong.

On the other side of Cholik, Lance and Sven exchanged looks as they studied the remaining two Drules. "Which do you want?"

They looked pretty much the same to Lance—similar height, similar build, he thought one was male and one was female but couldn't even be certain of that. "You left, me right."

"Seems fair." Sven moved in on his opponent, while Lance opted to stay back and let his approach.

Merchants or not, nobody was making any easily exploited mistakes here. Jace had gotten his opponent in a chokehold quickly, and was feeling pretty good about it for about two seconds. Then he was flying across the cargo bay. "Fucking…" Dodging a knife strike, he jumped up in time to see Lance get a good punch in on his Drule before hitting the floor. Keith and Sven were doing better, circling their opponents, neither presenting any opening.

Pidge was darting around Cholik, his knife flashing erratically; unpredictability was his best defense against the Blood-Captain's greater reach. He was quite skilled, no doubt… though this fight would already be over if Pidge could rely on a fully healed leg. Trying to avoid aggravating the injury was making him overly cautious. Although… he glanced around at the others, eyes narrowed, a plan starting to form in his mind.

Then the distraction cost him; he came down badly on his left leg and twisted too far, feeling the knee lock up. Fine. His plan would go into effect earlier than he'd anticipated.

Cholik saw his predicament and tried to press the advantage, but Pidge was still upright and could still block his strikes. Glancing around to see who was closest, he crouched and kicked off with his good leg, swinging around the Drule with full knowledge that he wasn't going to stay on his feet.

"Commander!"

What Keith heard was a teammate in trouble; he whirled around and grimaced, racing forward and just barely managing to block Cholik's strike against his falling engineer. Not that Pidge was exactly appreciative—though he supposed he should have known what Keith's priority there would be.

"Get him!"

Abruptly understanding where this was going, Keith twisted his sword and drew his blade down his opponent's, twisting at the hilt and cutting into the Blood-Captain's hand. It didn't stop him from getting in a grazing slash on Pidge's arm first.

A one for one trade, and maybe a fair one; as the ninja scooted back out of the way of the fight, he looked up at Cholik and grinned. "That was fun."

The Drule actually chuckled.

"Wait, we can do that?" Jace demanded. He was really not doing well against his chosen opponent, who was bigger and stronger and simply would not be kept on the floor; he slipped away from her and charged Keith's original opponent instead, landing a kick before the Drule could hit his commander from behind.

"I didn't hear them say we couldn't!" Keith spun and brought his sword up in a short, arcing slash, though the Drule recovered just quickly enough to deflect.

"Fuck!" Lance's opponent had actually thrown a knife; he launched into a roll just in time, the blade clipping a few strands of hair but drawing no blood. As he got back to his feet the Drule damn near bulldozed him. They struggled for a few moments before he caught an opening, grinned, and flipped the Drule onto their back.

Sven was wrestling his own opponent—they were strong. Jace was still resolutely ignoring his original Drule, noted the Viking's situation, and drew his combat knife. It wasn't his favorite weapon, but—

"—Jace, asshole, behind you!"

"That's usually where an asshole goes, caralho!" He wasn't even sure if Lance had been calling him or the Drule an asshole—probably both—but either way he whirled around and ducked beneath the incoming attack, calling her several highly unpleasant things in Portuguese as he did so. "You know what, fuck this fighting fair thing." He snapped a hard kick into her shin and backed off as she staggered to the side, turning to Lance to try to return the favor.

Too late. Just as the medic spun to face him, Lance felt a sharp pain flash up his calf. "Well fuck!" He retreated from the fight, though not in any great hurry; it might have prevented his opponent from moving past him for a few moments. But then, if they hadn't wanted him to be in the way they shouldn't have stabbed his leg.

Sven had noted the loss of his teammate as well, throwing his own opponent off just long enough to get some separation. With Lance pseudo-blocking the Drule who'd cut him, the navigator had a clear opening. He slipped his knife from its hidden sheath and lunged, slicing the Drule across the back.

One for one, again. Keith was watching the rest of the battle while keeping his own opponent at bay. He didn't like what he was seeing… but he couldn't do a lot about it. His sword gave him the reach advantage, but he couldn't get cocky; the terms of the challenge demanded flawless defensive fighting, when he might usually have taken lesser strikes to inflict greater ones. He wasn't the only one, he knew. It was a handicap none of them had quite anticipated when they'd agreed to this.

The Drule Sven had thrown landed on their feet, charging back in at the unsuspecting navigator almost immediately. Jace's eyes narrowed. Maybe he hadn't been able to help Lance, but… "Oh fuck you, too!" He raced in as well. The Drules were strong, but aside from Cholik they weren't fast—he caught just in time, slashing with his own knife and intercepting the incoming strike.

His missed. Theirs didn't.

Porra…

Sven whipped around at a great deal of swearing at his back to see Jace ducking away from the battle, blood trickling from his shoulder. Immediately he re-engaged his original opponent, who had a large gash in their tunic but had just avoided being blooded. That one had not been a fair trade. And the medic's original opponent was circling, looking for an opening, though she had a pronounced limp; he'd at least cut down on her effectiveness.

Backing up towards Sven, Keith took another warning slash at his own opponent. "This is not how I hoped this would go…"

"I think having hopes was your first problem, boss," Lance suggested.

Pidge was watching as carefully as when he'd been fighting, and could see the clear patterns in the battle. "You're fine, sir." Sitting next to him, he was pretty certain Cholik could see what he was seeing… the Blood-Captain looked progressively more uncomfortable. His people had the numbers, but what they were proving less than adept at was taking the initiative. In a series of duels they might have triumphed.

The 686 hadn't given them that.

With the remaining two humans back to back, presenting no easy openings, Jace's original opponent opted to move in on Keith. Probably a good decision, given his weapon advantage. The combatants traded blocks with increasing urgency, Keith's eyes narrowed in concentration, a grin starting to spread over Sven's lips.

"Viking's smile seem a little creepy to you?" Lance murmured to Jace.

Snort. "Viking has a lot of creepy smiles, man. Oughta see him after he tells a bad joke."

If he hadn't been having so much fun, Sven would've glared. His jokes were fine.

Keith was slowly shifting his focus. Standard tactics would have him try to take the wounded Drule first. Eliminate the easier target, then concentrate on the stronger. That was precisely why he intended to not do that. He could see the two moving as if they were anticipating such a play, perhaps even unconsciously—his original opponent shifting to cover Jace's as they vied for an opening.

Daring a glance over his shoulder, he saw Sven's opponent taking a few steps back. The Viking had just barely missed getting a nice cut on their cheek. They were off balance, and if he was going to break the defensive formation, he wasn't going to do it without warning his teammate…

"Now!"

They hadn't actually had a plan, but Sven reacted instantly nonetheless. He darted to the Drule's right, drawing them out, waiting until it should all but have been too late before switching direction and striking their left thigh. At the same moment Keith spun with his sword out, completely bypassing the limping Drule in favor of her companion. He'd put himself in a vulnerable position, and Keith respected the nobility of his actions, but that didn't stop Raiden from cutting down and across his shin.

As he came out of the spin, he pointed his sword straight at the tall female, still wounded and suddenly alone on the field.

She didn't surrender, of course, though he could tell she knew it was over. As Sven moved around his side for backup, she made a sharp feint and tried to strike him. Skilled, but too slow. Giving her a small grin, Keith sidestepped and landed a light cut to her arm.

It was over…

Standing, Cholik looked over them and tilted his head curiously. "I have a suspicion you are no mere cargo vessel…"

You have no idea. "Never said we were, never said we weren't."

"True enough." The Blood-Captain bowed deeply. "An unorthodox but honorable victory. We concede."

Nodding, Keith bowed in return. What came next was the only option, really. "You fought courageously. And as the victors, we insist you take the deuterium we offered. Save your ship, Blood-Captain."

Cholik visibly startled, then bared his fangs in a smile. "We are honored by your gift, Commander."

Looking around, Keith took stock of the combatants. There didn't seem to be any serious injuries; even the limping Drule was almost certainly only bruised. But they were nearly all bleeding, by design. Only he and Sven—who was rolling his shoulders and grinning as if he'd be only too happy for round two—had escaped that particular ailment. "If you need, our medic can attend to your people's wounds."

Jace had already been walking over to where he'd left his kit. "Yeah, I can patch you up while your shuttle's on its way back… assuming you can get our freak of a chief engineer off your ship."

"Yeah," Lance agreed, "let's get him and my… er, the kids back."

Mercifully, Jace had been too busy with his medkit to hear that. Keith had not; he arched an eyebrow. "Your kids?"

"The kids," Lance corrected quickly. "I clearly said the kids and my… I mean, Flynn. The kids and Flynn. Clearly what I said."

"It still isn't very clear, sir." That earned Pidge the pilot's best death glare of the day, which really was saying something.

Keith just chuckled as Lance grumbled some more. "Right. You did."

*****

Once the decision to move Prince Tanner was made, there had been no time to waste. With information from several people who they'd met running about the tunnels carrying supplies, they learned which tunnels would lead them to the castle shelter. Miralna quickly came to find an appreciation for the chaotic design of the tunnels between the cities. Many connections were carefully hidden, and would be thought to be dead ends without knowledge of exactly where to look.

As they approached the castle shelter, evidence of King Alfor's death seemed to become more noticeable; a dark pall had fallen over many of those moving between shelters. Even the young prince noticed soon enough, despite Nanny's attempts to distract him. Tanner had been fairly cheerful at the beginning of their trip to the shelter, eager to see something else besides the small shelter he'd been in for so long, and especially eager to see his sister again. But that cheer had slowly softened into a creeping depression. Past perhaps the midpoint of the journey, the prince was mostly carried with his face buried in a blanket. He didn't want to see any more.

It felt like days before they finally reached the last mile to the castle shelter. A quiet inquiry informed them that most of those in charge of the shelter had gone to oversee the final preparations for Alfor's burial. Nanny told Tanner only that Allura was out on an errand and would be back soon; that gave the prince a small bit of happiness, and he peeked his head from the blanket long enough to smile.

As they reached the shelter, expecting it to be largely empty, Nanny was surprised to find a familiar face awaiting them.

"Coran! I thought I would never see you again…"

"As I thought as well, Lady Hys." The old knight squeezed her hands before turning to the rest of the entourage. "Is this…?" Pointing in the direction of the young prince, he took a cautious step closer. Tanner peeked from the blanket again.

Nanny nodded. "Yes… he has been kept safe and fed, but I fear he may not be well. I'm hoping that by getting him here, there might be some way to improve his health."

"Of course, follow me. There are still some doctors who have not gone with the princess on her task. When Her Majesty returns, perhaps she will have some insight to speed the process along. For now, we can settle him in one of the royal chambers to rest."

Once the young prince was settled, Coran sat by Nanny for some time, telling her of the events of his arrival to the shelter up to the recovery of Alfor's remains. He couldn't help a small sigh as Nanny became flustered over Allura's actions to retrieve her father… he understood her concern, of course. He had shared it. But it was clear Allura had a path she was following, one they couldn't fully guide her upon. He patiently allowed Nanny to continue venting her frustrations, but he wasn't sure how much he might truly involve himself in 'reining in' the Princess as she wished.

He determined to not repeat all that Nanny said to Allura… they both had enough to worry about.