(On the Hunt) Chapter 32

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 32

Guidance Beyond

The rest of the trip to Ixapre had been mercifully uneventful. Perhaps too uneventful. It was enough to have at least some of the team wondering what chaos was going to come along next—though by now, some of them just wondered that as a matter of principle anyway.

It turned out the answer was Ixapre itself. The fifth planet in the system Zathaster had directed them to was a small, lifeless chunk of rock that showed no hint of civilization… unless you knew where to look. Bringing up the Bolt's magres scanners, Cam quickly started to pinpoint metallic tracers on the surface. "I have the passive beacons, sir. Just as the Vex-Cha said. They're pointing towards the southern pole."

"Good." Keith was pacing the bridge. "Any sign of what we're looking for?"

"Not yet."

Coming in around the equator, it took a little over another hour to reach the pole. Daniel was resisting the urge to spin on his chair; why couldn't they have waited until something was actually happening to be called to the bridge? He was about to say as much, when suddenly the main screen flickered out entirely.

Okay, something was happening.

"Um."

"Sukin syn…"

"Switch to glass," Keith ordered immediately. In space and especially hyperspace, the main screen displayed several filters and enhancements over the ship's frontal viewport. 'Switching to glass' removed all those, leaving the Bolt running on the windscreen—which wasn't actually glass, but that was beside the point—and good old Mark I Eyeballs. "What do we have?"

"Sensors are being blocked somehow." Cam was typing frantically. "We're exactly where the guide points were telling us to go, but nothing is showing up. The only thing I'm reading is a faint radio signal, but it's an incredibly narrow frequency and the direction keeps changing."

Keith took a moment to steady his own thoughts. "That's what the information from Zandrek said to look for." It hadn't said a damn thing about sensor blocking or directional shifting, but it had said they'd need to follow a precise signal in. "Can you keep a fix on it?"

"I…" He paused a moment, then his eyes narrowed with determination. "Yes, I think I can hold it, sir. It'll be tricky to follow."

"How hard can it be?" Lance snorted, earning a side-eye from Sven that he probably deserved. Shrugging, he returned to shifting uneasily in his seat, guiding the Bolt in a slow circle as he waited to hear where the hell to fly them.

The engine bay had their comms open, even without anything to report; they had extra analysis running on what little sensor data was incoming. It wasn't the sensor data that gave the first real hint of what they were facing, though. It was a nearby ship Pidge was keeping an eye on as it came in to land. As it slipped closer to the planet, the space around it wavered slightly, like ripples in a pond… and it vanished entirely.

Komora… "Sir, you should see this."

The urgency in his tone brought Flynn across the bay almost immediately. By that time he had some more useful scans running. He knew what they were looking at now.

"…Faex." It only took a few more moments to confirm. "Kogane, we're picking up quantum scrambling back here. Fluctuating. We can't get a solid read, but there seem to be transient safe zones."

Things fell together for Cam then, too. "The signal is giving us the path." Refining his equipment, he managed to bring up a visual representation of the signal, a line that danced and wavered ahead of them before fading a little ways into the quantum field. Those sensors were blocked too. "It must be broadcasting from the target zone and sneaking through the gaps… I can't get a solid image. But it's narrow. Probably just enough for the ship to fit through."

Lance had gone from impatience to all business. He didn't like the sound of this. Flying a maze, fine. Flying a maze he couldn't see? "Kinda sounds like something that calls for a solid image."

"I think I can relay you the headings." Pressing a few more buttons, Cam wrinkled his nose in displeasure. Apparently only the navigation console was designed to transmit directly to the pilot. "…I can do it, but I'm going to have to call them out on the fly."

Shit. Lance looked over at him. "I'm going to need exact bearings."

Keith looked between the two of them, then at the comms. "What happens if we hit the walls?"

"Formally advise we don't," Flynn responded as if it were an actual answer. In a sense he supposed it was.

"That's… okay." Pressing that issue would be of minimal benefit. "Starr, McClain, are you ready?"

Setting the comms console up to even give him the headings took a minute; it was a makeshift system, relying on an abstract model. But finally Cam looked up and nodded. "Ready here."

"Born ready." Lance had them pointing towards the planet's surface, his muscles tensing. This would be tricky… but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Alright. Proceed."

A few moments of tense silence fell over the bridge as Cam waited for a solid lock on the signal. "Got it. Entry trajectory at 041, 07."

"Alright." Pushing the Bolt forward, Lance took a shallow turn to follow the heading and drew a low breath. Whatever they were getting into here, there was no turning back now.

"046, 36 on my mark… now." That was a much sharper turn, and nearly took them right back out of the blackout zone, but the signal wavered and turned much more quickly this time. "168, 11, now."

It was becoming immediately apparent that the area around them was off. The stars were shifting at odd angles, making Sven glare at his monitors even though he knew it was irrelevant at the moment. Worst of them was the closest star; the sun at their backs seemed to have vanished outright. The only frame of reference was the planet's surface, featureless rock, the magnetic tracers no longer detectable. It was disorienting as hell.

An alarm sounded in the engine bay, and Pidge sprang to attention. "Contacts. Multiple…" He trailed off as the identifiers came up. "…Vagrants?"

Vince, holding tight to a bracing bar and trying to keep his breathing even, looked over in confusion. "That can't be right." They'd seen a small handful of other Vagrants over the course of their mission, but several of them at once? Here? It was implausible—a kind of very mundane implausible, not the sort they kept actually running into.

"I know," Pidge agreed, then he looked back at the screen and blinked. "…They're gone."

"Sensor ghosts," Flynn murmured, drawing answering nods. "Careful, flyboys. Can't trust anything in here."

Wasn't that the truth. The next signal fluctuation was sudden, and Cam nearly yelled it out in surprise. "168, 11, now!"

"This is so much fun," Daniel muttered sarcastically as the Bolt took another shallow turn. He'd almost rather have been crashing again, at least that had been exciting.

Lance didn't even have time to not have time for that crap. "Someone glare at the kid."

"On my way!" Jace broke in much too cheerfully over the comms; alone among those on the bridge, Sven allowed himself a tight smile. At least it was a tiny distraction from his not being able to navigate.

Cam pitched in too. "190—Daniel, shut up—34, on my mark… now." His roommate looked indignant, but shut up, and things were calm for a few precious seconds before the signal changed again. "094, 18, now."

Zigging the direction he'd been given, Lance felt the controls seeming to fight back an instant before a massive jolt rocked the ship. "Fuck! Cam, exact headings!"

"I'm trying, dammit!" Having nearly been flung from his station entirely by the jolt, Cam struggled to regain his equilibrium and figure out what had gone wrong. "This isn't exactly my—" Another sharp impact slammed through the ship. "—Der'mo. I've lost the signal!"

"Starr!" Keith leaned forward as he was rattled against his own harness. "Don't panic. Focus. Get it back."

"Y—yes sir." Get it back? Of course, except he wasn't sure how. The Bolt was still tearing through the quantum field, literally; every jolt seemed that much closer to ripping the hull apart. And stopping wasn't exactly an option. Calling back the last few seconds on his tracking module, he shook his head in confusion. The heading had been correct, as best he could… wait. There it is! "157, 40, now! 165, 32 as soon as we're clear!"

"Fucking bumpy flying," Lance growled, pitching the ship down and rightward as another heavy impact struck. A second later, all the jolting stopped. He didn't even stop to breathe before switching headings; pushing into a second, slightly shallower turn, he gritted his teeth and waited for something else.

Nothing but silence.

"…So to answer your earlier question, Kogane?" They could hear a few alarms in the background as Flynn spoke up. "Hitting the walls leads to planar rupturing and massive inertial oscillation spikes. Can we not do it again? We just fixed this damn thing."

Keith made a face. "Noted."

"I'd fucking love to never do that again," Lance muttered, sparing a half-second glance around the bridge. Daniel no longer looked bored; Sven had his eyes closed and seemed to be muttering in Norwegian under his breath. Did Vikings meditate? This did seem like the kind of thing that could make a person take it up.

"058, 90, now!"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Cam?" Wrenching the unwieldy Vagrant into a ninety-degree turn, he braced himself for another jolt. But it didn't come; apparently he'd pulled it off. Obviously.

"Don't yell at me, I'm just the messenger," Cam protested. "Upcoming turn, 166, 67 on my mark."

Back in the engine bay, they'd managed to get all the alarms silenced. No real damage had been inflicted by the quantum scrambling. Lasting damage would happen if they were subjected to it for too long… and would pretty much consist of the entire ship disintegrating at once. No pressure.

Hunk, as he did, flipped on some music. Flynn was pretty sure he recognized a game show tune and shot him an annoyed look; Vince knew Jeopardy when he heard it, and glared outright. "Really?" Shrugging, Hunk switched to something else. He was pretty sure this one belonged to an old show called Press Your Luck, which… well, at least he was making apt choices?

Not everyone was so impressed. Flynn took his datapad and stashed it in a toolbox.

"No fun, pit boss."

An erratic loop had brought them to pretty much the same place they'd originally hit the walls. Why wouldn't it? "Getting a little wavering in the signal, hold on… 002, 81, now!"

"Oh, only a little sharp this time," Lance snorted as he zagged them upwards. "I hate flying like this, I never hate flying!"

"I can take over for you if you like," Daniel volunteered. He knew perfectly well where that was actually going to get him—

"Someone fucking glare at the kid!"

—Yep.

After being thrown all around the corridors trying to make his way to the bridge, Jace finally arrived, obligingly glaring at Daniel until the next heading. Then they seemingly clipped a wall; a single violent tremor shook the hull and threw him back at the hatch. So he glared at Cam, too.

"Fucking…"

"We're clear. Next heading to follow."

"Nice recovery, McClain."

The next several minutes were far less eventful, and seemed like they might even be getting productive. The Bolt was making its way into low orbit, though there was still no sign of anything on the surface. At the edge of what little atmosphere Ixapre possessed, they found themselves leveling out, completing one full circle—well, perhaps one full concave polygon, not so much a circle—before a reading came up that Cam couldn't quite bring himself to believe.

The signal be was tracing pitched straight down.

No, no time. He had to trust his readings or they'd be in the quantum field again, and they damn well knew they didn't want that. "Okay. 180, 90."

Dropping the Bolt's nose sharply, Lance followed the heading, waiting for the next one. And waiting. And not hearing anything as he watched the rocky surface coming closer and closer. "What the hell—Cam, what's next?"

"I'm not getting anything else, I swear!" He'd already been swearing. Quietly, in Russian, almost nonstop.

"Oh, shit."

"Que porra?"

Even Hunk, still sulking about his music, had a comment. "So what, we're puttin' the 'dead' in 'dead reckoning' now?"

Sven really wanted to tell him why dead reckoning had nothing to do with this situation, but decided it could wait until they survived. Looking instead at the sensor ghosts and vacillating stars, he shook his head slightly. "We're in a quantum cloak. We can't trust anything else in here, there might not really be ground ahead of us either."

The bridge crew all exchanged looks. They were quickly running low on time… Keith nodded slowly. "Starr, you're certain there's nothing else?"

"Yes sir. Positive."

Be a hell of an elaborate trap to just destroy incoming ships. A couple of defense turrets would be simpler and cheaper. The path they were following had to be real. So the only remaining question was whether they had trust in their comms officer's abilities.

Slowly, the others nodded.

"Alright. Then everyone hang on tight… McClain, hold the course."

"You got it, bossman." As a large crater began to fill their viewscreen, he clutched the controls in a death grip and held his breath.

The Bolt cut through the planet's supposed surface with a ripple of disturbed space, and emerged into a completely different world.

"We're… we're out."

"Holy spaceport, Batman."

"What. The. Fuck."

Stretched before them was a massive cavern, filled with ships and traders of nearly every kind imaginable. A series of shifting lights along the ground was directing them off to the left. Looking around and taking a few moments to recover, Lance let a wide smirk cross his face. "Alright, I take it back. That was fucking awesome."

Hunk reclaimed his datapad and started blasting his usual heavy metal Ride of the Valkyries; Flynn shook his head but didn't really have the heart to object. Vince eyed him and exhaled slowly. I need to stop being so surprised when I don't die…

Looking over at him, Pidge offered a smile that might have been a little sardonic. "Never boring, kir sa tye?"

"…I really miss boring." Vince sighed. All he'd wanted was a career of nice, quiet electronic work, maybe in the merchant marine, but no.

Cam's console blinked, and he cocked his head. "Landing data incoming. We're cleared immediately for the left landing strip, then we follow frequency 149.8 to our berth."

"What, no shouting for old time's sake?" Lance snorted, finding the runway and bringing the Bolt into a final descent. Cam glowered.

"With complete disrespect, Lieutenant… bite me."

"Drop the rank next time you disrespect me, kid."

"Way to go, Doc," Keith muttered, earning an indignant look from Jace.

"The fuck did I do? …This time?" He had not been responsible for the 'complete disrespect' cracks. The Viking had started that one all by himself. But the commander didn't seem inclined to pursue the subject, so he rolled his eyes and dropped it.

"Okay, everyone… let's get parked and make a plan."

*****

The plans were simple, as the best plans often were. Being simple did not guarantee they'd be good plans—the 686 knew all about that—but at least it might increase their chances. They'd formed two teams to head out and explore the Scavenger's Exchange. Keith wasn't on either; he would remain on the Bolt to deal with spaceport business and keep a lookout for Galra. Flynn had been intending to stay with the ship as well, but every plan did have its one snag. In this case, it had been putting Sven in charge of a group with Cam, Pidge, and Vince.

He'd immediately protested having to be the sole source of adult supervision, but that wasn't why Flynn had been put on his team. Not exactly. It was the fact that all three of the kids had—immediately and in unison—offered to help their navigator with the necessary babysitting.

So now the five of them were wandering through the Free Market, where various scavengers and suppliers and probably petty thieves had stalls set up to offload their finds. They were doing their best to give the impression of wide-eyed newcomers.

It wasn't hard.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Cam said quietly, stepping a little too quickly past an aggressive knife salesman's booth.

Vince was studying a display of colored rocks. "Why?"

"Really?" Sven took it a bit less in stride. "This, this, out of everything we've done?"

"This is where you draw that line?" Flynn agreed. "Literally the last time we landed, magical bats built us a runway. This is almost boring."

"Well… okay, yeah, I can't believe half the things we've done. But this either."

It was fair, Vince supposed. He was still looking at the rocks, grouped by size and color in several large bins. He'd picked a couple up to examine, and was about to have a look at some kind of blue-green opal when the canine alien running the stall stopped him. "Careful! That one's contact poisonous to primates."

"Eeep!" Vince startled and took a step back; the shopkeeper chuckled and reached into the bin with one furry hand, straightening out a sign that turned out to say WARNING in several languages. "Uh, thanks."

Sven, who was at the stall next to him looking at a collection of old leather-bound books, glanced over momentarily. "Please don't die." He could only imagine the lecture he'd get from Jace if he actually let one of the kids die.

The shopkeeper gave its barking chuckle again. "It'd just give you a fever and a cough, but still. Bad for business, you know?"

"Yeah, for sure." Pointing to a bin of shimmery orange and purple rocks he'd been studying before, he asked, "Are those safe?"

"Absolutely! It's just the cyanostone you've got to look out for."

"Perfect." Giving the cyanostone bin a wide berth, Vince picked out two of the orange and purple rocks and fished out a credit chip. They were much too pretty to pass up.

Grinning, the shopkeeper turned to bag his purchases, revealing a pair of wagging tails and a pair of heavy rifles strapped across its back. Running any kind of shop in a place like this, Vince supposed that was a good idea. "Nice choice! Relic Kedurien agate. Local legend says it gets its color by trapping bits of the sunset." It handed the bag over. "Appreciate the business!"

"The Moms will like that story," Vince said with a grin of his own as he accepted the bag. "Thanks!"

Behind him, Cam had picked out a prismatic crystal to purchase; over to the side, Sven had managed to restrain himself to only buying one of the books. It may have been related to its being the only one he could read—the set had turned out to be a series of obscure folktales, translated into various interstellar languages. Meanwhile, Flynn had found a large booth filled with bits of scrap, obviously scavenged from ruined spacecraft. Somehow he'd come away with a miniaturized flux-purifier array that looked older than the Alliance.

Watching the others go convincingly full tourist, Pidge grimaced slightly. Not finding a souvenir made him feel like he wasn't quite doing his job. A display of swords caught his eye; he doubted they were scavenged at all. Probably a supplier figuring the denizens of the Exchange needed what they were selling. Still, he wandered over, and was surprised to see Cam approaching as well.

"You like swords?"

Cam startled a little at being spoken to, but nodded. "Yeah. I've been learning how to use them from the Commander."

De chyle. Pidge couldn't really imagine peanut butter boy being proficient with a sword, but he supposed everyone could search for improvement. "It's a good skill…" He ran a finger lightly along the nearest blade. Swords weren't his preferred weapon, but he could tell a quality edge when he saw it. "These are nice. Are you ready for your own, then?"

Pausing a moment, Cam considered brushing that off with a nod, but then decided otherwise. "I actually have one, sort of." He hadn't even told Keith this—he'd been worried it would make him sound like he was just trying to take advantage—but he suspected the ninja would take it differently. "It's an heirloom, waiting at home. Not supposed to really inherit it until I prove worthy of the family legacy, you know? But knowing how to fight with it isn't really the requirement, that's just… something I felt like I needed to do."

Pidge eyed him, nodding slowly in what may have been approval, and Cam felt pretty good about how that had gone. He was probably about to say something else, too, but then he got distracted by an array of sharpening stones—specifically one carved in the shape of a sleek, feathery dragonlike creature.

Souvenir mission accomplished!

As they continued wandering through the market Vince had found what initially looked like another display of rocks, or more accurately shiny seashells. He was about to pick one up when it moved and made a chittering noise. "Ack!" Looking up at the sign—he really should get in that habit before he went to touch things—he found an explanation that they were in fact a kind of large bug that made a popular pet. "Er… okay, never mind."

Shaking his head, Sven opted to keep one eye on their electrical engineer as he half-read his new book. Vince noticed his Viking shadow quickly, and would have liked to be mildly offended, but really it was probably fair.

Leading them from the market sector, Flynn found signs pointing in all directions. One indicated a food court about a mile deeper into the caves. The winding, poorly-lit caves, with several branching and overlapping paths that all led to the same place. "Well that's not ominous at all," he murmured to the others, drawing a few nods of agreement. Then he plastered on the most innocent expression he could muster. "Let's go get lunch!"

"Never do that again, sir," Pidge muttered.

Cam and Vince were frowning at the tunnels. "It looks creepy."

"It is creepy."

"Lunch sounds wonderful," Sven said pointedly, nudging them both in the back.

Oh right, undercover. "I'm starving, yep, starving. Lunch sounds great!"

"I'm not really hungry?" Cam got another nudge. "…But a drink would be nice."

None of them looked to be ready for confrontation. Flynn had his scout rifle slung over his back in a way that would be impossible to draw with any speed; his jacket hid his pistol holster, which was much more accessible. Vince and Cam had their sidearms, but those were nothing impressive. Sven and Pidge were carrying no visible weapons at all… but each had their typical assortment of hidden knives, and in Pidge's case a wrist sheath of shuriken under his sleeve.

Flynn was pointedly leading them through the darkest and shadiest tunnels, while doing his best not to look like he was intentionally choosing such tunnels. Just trying to avoid the crowds. Yes. That was it. A bunch of naive, innocent treasure hunters with no idea where they were going…

Vince tripped over a rock. It hadn't been intentional, but it was definitely helpful. "You alright?" Sven asked, turning to help him up, in no real hurry about it.

"Fine." He flushed a little, then hesitated. Even he could tell things felt less friendly around them.

"…They're coming," Pidge hissed, as nearly a dozen small saurian forms appeared from the shadows. Mostly blue, a few tinged with violet, they were led by one with a crest of silvery horns.

Bataxi? Flynn blinked in momentary confusion before taking a step back. They were definitely not friendly.

"Ah, fleshlings!" The leader motioned with her sharp claws, gesturing to a small alcove behind them. "A pleasure. My name is Klipce, and my brothers and I have some business with you…" Her words were sharp, her tone just daring them to run.

Which they weren't about to. "Business… of course." Hooked one. Flynn nodded to the others, feigning nervousness as they backed into the alcove. "What sort of business?" Sven drew a knife, causing one of the enforcers to laugh. They may as well laugh first; they wouldn't be laughing last.

Two of the males took up station at the entrance, while the others moved to surround the group in a rough semicircle. Klipce studied them, flicking her tail. "You seem like agreeable fleshlings. We, too, are agreeable. Surrender your wares and leave unharmed."

Bataxi. This was not exactly what Flynn had been prepared to deal with. "That seems like an unfair exchange…" She wasn't acting, or even speaking, like any Bataxi he'd ever encountered. He wanted a little more information before springing their trap. Besides, until they got the opening they needed, best to play along.

Klipce looked derisive. "You mistake us for the godfollowers? That won't last. Your belongings for your lives—the fairest of exchanges."

…Heretic Bataxi? That explained a surprising amount of this, actually. "What now?"

She was not interested in playing. "We are not obligated to explain ourselves just because you have not encountered the Liberated. Surrender your belongings, or we will teach you with our claws."

Okay, that seemed like enough information. And this might work in their favor… the pirates might have the numerical advantage, but Bataxi were well known to rely on their speed and claws over firearms, which they weren't well-suited to wielding. Pidge also seemed to think this had gone on long enough; he glanced over with narrowed eyes. "Orders, sir?"

"We can share something with them, I think…" In a smooth motion he drew his pistol and aimed squarely at Klipce's face. "Ammunition, for example… if they don't mind it used." One of the males sprang at him—a hulking-by-Bataxi-standards one who was most clearly the leader's bodyguard. He pistol-whipped it across the face, knocking it aside, and re-sighted on Klipce as if nothing had happened. "Or blood, if they'd like?"

Sven and Pidge sprang immediately into action. Sven grabbed the one who'd laughed at his knife, whipping him around and pressing the blade to his scaley throat before even the swift Bataxi could react. Pidge loosed a couple of specialized throwing stars at one near him, which had stepped a bit too close to the wall; the stars caught its armor straps and buried deep in the stone, pinning it in place.

Cam drew on another, smirking. "Who actually cornered who here?" Even Vince, after briefly musing that he needed to learn to spark on command, remembered he had a gun and pointed it. The Bataxi didn't have to know how little confidence he had in actually firing.

Stepping back with a surprised hiss, Klipce narrowed her eyes. "Clever monkeys."

"Don't you know, monkeys are smart," Cam agreed. "Sad how the universe thinks otherwise."

"Who are you even calling a monkey?" Pidge added, flipping his shard knife between his hands.

Vince looked at him and frowned slightly, muttering just loud enough for the ninja to hear. "I like monkeys."

"They're fine, mechka." It really hadn't been the point. Baltans were descended directly from felines, was all, and he preferred accuracy in his alien terms of contempt.

Speaking of alien terms of contempt, Vince couldn't even grumble about mechka right then… it sure seemed better than fleshling.

Klipce was not impressed with their protests. "My brothers are not afraid to die."

"But are you?" Flynn asked mildly, keeping his aim squarely on her forehead. The ambushers could win this fight, if they were willing to incur heavy losses. But somehow he doubted their leader wanted to die for plunder she couldn't spend… and was vindicated when she signaled for the others to stand down. "We did have business here, you're right… you're the ones who decided it was with you. But we are reasonable, also." Smirk. "Tell us what we want to know… and leave unharmed."

"…Information?" She visibly relaxed. "Who comes to Ixapre for information? Clumsy fleshling police, is that what we have here?"

"You know, I'm tired of being insulted." Flynn stepped forward and dropped his gun against her teeth. "Maybe we should talk to one of your brothers."

"Oh, ouch, that's a serious burn," Cam whispered; he knew the Bataxi were a strictly matriarchal society. Pidge and even Vince snorted.

Klipce hissed, though she'd taken the point. "Perhaps I should speak with one of your comrades, if you have nothing but threats."

"You've been earning the threats, to be fair." Flynn glanced over at Sven, who still literally had a knife to one of the enforcers' throats, and shrugged. "But fine, he can take over."

"Gladly." Sven gave his scariest grin—which seemed to frighten Vince more than anyone else in the room—and pressed his knife a little closer to his hostage's throat.

Klipce was now clearly annoyed, and hopefully off balance. "Very well! What information do the fleshlings demand?"

Sven smiled. They'd planned their story out ahead of time; it really hadn't taken much thought to realize they shouldn't come into a place like this pretending to be bounty hunters. "To make a long story short, we're attempting to reach certain artifacts from a lost world, before a…" He shifted a little. "…competitor of ours does. And we know some of those artifacts have passed through this exchange. So we were hoping you'd be kind enough to give us any information you've heard of such artifacts."

The Bataxi had been surly and indignant; now she looked genuinely stunned. "You're trying to use the Scavenger's Exchange to acquire information for use in a… professional rivalry? You surely know how improper that is?"

"You're literally here because you were trying to steal from us," Pidge said flatly, and she immediately looked indignant again.

"We like to take advantage of all opportunities," Sven added smoothly. "Even if they are… slightly immoral."

Klipce made an odd grumbling noise. "We are hunters of profits, not explorers. Remarkable that you think anyone here can help you with supply lines, least of all us."

What she didn't seem to be considering, of course, was that that was information in its own right. The kind of information they'd been looking for, in fact. It was the rumors undoubtedly circulating this outpost, not details on the Altean relic itself, they'd been hoping to gain by this ploy.

Sven grinned and re-angled his knife a little. "Yes, quite remarkable. So what I'm hearing is: you attacked us, completely unprovoked, meaning to steal from us. And when we've offered you the courtesy of not just outright killing you, in exchange for information, all you have is a long-winded version of 'sorry, we don't know'?"

The others stared at him for a moment, and Flynn couldn't help wondering if letting the Viking room with Jace had been such a good idea after all. The medic seemed to be wildly contagious.

"I gave you the courtesy of honesty, fleshling. How easily I could simply make something up, when you clearly have no idea what you're looking for. Everyone knows this is only a distribution center—everyone except for you."

"I doubt that," Cam snorted; the Bataxi with Sven's knife at his throat growled slightly at him.

"She speaks truth. Is Exchange…"

"I believe her," Sven said calmly. "If you don't have the information we're looking for, that's fine. We are reasonable… generally. Mostly. Sometimes. But we still need something in exchange for your group's appalling behavior. You could give us the name of someone who would know, or at least point us in the direction of information."

The male growled something; Klipce hissed at him. "Silence, brother. The fleshling is too eager with that blade." She turned her attention back to Sven, sparing a glance at Flynn as well. "Ask the local cargo pilots, then. They will all tell you the same. Goods come in from all corners of the Spur, and leave to all corners, but the profits go always to Sapzon."

"Really? That's interesting." Sven knew of Sapzon. It was an Alliance planet, a border world in the Rimward Corridor… nowhere remotely near Ixapre. It was the kind of answer that was so nonsensical as to be credible; if she were making it up she'd pick something that made more sense. Turning his to Flynn, he gave a short nod to indicate his thoughts. "Would you say that's good enough to let them go?"

"It's not very much." The chief was still aiming steadily at Klipce—it seemed like his arms should be getting tired by now, given the sidearm he was carrying, but Sven was no expert. "But if it's the best they can do, we'll take it."

"See? I told you we're reasonable." Sven pulled his knife away and shoved his former hostage forward.

The Bataxi leader still seemed annoyed. Understandable, probably. "You didn't even need to play this game for that open secret, but take it. We know nothing else… that isn't our operation."

"Fair enough." Flynn didn't lower his weapon. "Get out of here, then."

Issuing several orders to her enforcers in their harsh native tongue, Klipce turned back to Flynn and scoffed. "May all your transactions be cursed and your profits be lost, fleshlings." She turned and stalked out with her enforcers tailing just behind.

Once they were out of sight, Flynn finally lowered his gun and exhaled slowly. "And here I thought normal Bataxi were disconcerting."

"That was creepy," Cam agreed.

"I enjoyed that much more than our usual encounters with them," Sven declared with a grin.

Vince eyed him. "You're getting scarier."

"I'm impressed," Pidge said at the same moment, which his roommate felt absolutely proved his point.

Not quite certain how to respond to a compliment—especially that compliment—from the ninja, Sven opted to just address Vince. "Surprisingly, I'm not opposed to that." It seemed useful, anyway.

Flynn smirked. "Jace is going to be so proud."

"We don't have to…" Sven stopped halfway through that, making a face. It wasn't worth it.

Laughing, Flynn nodded and turned to the mouth of the alcove. And then he frowned slightly. He had a bad feeling… "Let's go. Pidge, take the lead, would you?"

"Yessir." Nobody really had to ask why he'd said that; not one of them had actually put their weapons away yet. And sure enough, the second Pidge stepped out of the alcove, one of the Bataxi sprang at him with claws extended.

Sidestepping, he gave a deep slash to the attacker's side and slammed him to the floor with a mildly derisive look.

"Can't say I'm shocked," Sven commented lightly, stabbing at a second.

"Not a bit." Flynn shot one as it took a leap at him, reducing its shoulder to a spray of silvery blood. Cam took a shot at another one, cursing, just missing but convincing his target it wanted no part of the fight.

None of them wanted any part of it, really. As the Bataxi pirates realized their targets were fighting back, they turned and ran for it.

Nobody else in the tunnels even paused to look at them as the pirates fled the scene.

"…I'm so disappointed in them," Sven said as he wiped his knife clean. "I felt like we had a connection. And even if we didn't, they could have executed a much better ambush."

"Even I didn't think to run for it," Vince agreed. He hadn't thought to shoot, either, but he hadn't run for it.

Shaking his head, Flynn holstered his pistol and looked at the glittery blood trails. "Maybe there's a reason we don't see Bataxi pirates more often. Come on… let's go find some cargo pilots. May as well ask around to be sure."

It did seem like a good idea… with answering nods, they headed out.

So much for lunch.

*****

Lance, in his best leather—so, pants that matched the jacket, basically—was leading the other half of the 686 to the Exchange's administrative sector. They were not playing innocent at all. They were pirates, and they were on a mission.

It would hopefully involve less gunfire than their counterparts, but who knew.

The ceilings in this part of the outpost were high, almost uncomfortably so. It felt like they were in a cave when they were actually just walking down a hallway. But the place was well marked, at least. "I think it's up this way."

"You think?" Jace snorted, eyeing the sign they'd just passed. Acquisitions Administration, it said. They'd been directed here after a few charming winks and a couple of minor bribes, in search of someone named Pirev: the "primary procurement and distribution manager".

The longer the title, the less legitimate the job. Probably.

"It's pretty spacious down here."

"Kinda nice." Hunk grinned. "Don't hafta run people over."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "You were running people over?"

"Nah, cuz they get outta the way." Even Daniel looked at him and snorted.

"Like you wouldn't roll them over and yell 'vroom' if you had to," Jace retorted, and the big man grinned.

"Got that right!"

"Alright, alright." Lance had to fight down the laughter; they were getting close now. "Everyone knows the cover story, right?"

"We're looking for a criminal who's searching for Altea and it's definitely not because we're bounty hunters," Jace recited.

Daniel nodded, answering at the same time. "We're pirates, looking for the criminal the bounty hunter versions of us are hunting." He gave his best, fiercest smirk. "I'll make an awesome pirate."

Nodding, Lance looked over at Hunk, who was looking a little pouty. He'd tried to wear a paper pirate hat, but Flynn had confiscated it before they'd left the ship. He'd also tried to bring Cam's flamingo on his shoulder, but Daniel had threatened to chuck it into the engines. He didn't feel very pirate-y, and thus wasn't quite giving off the air of menace the team might have preferred. "Big guy, can you look more… like your size?"

Hunk blinked. "Uh… ooga booga!" He waved his arms wildly, and Jace facepalmed.

"Dude, they don't know you go vroom… I mean Jace's face will make up for a lot."

"Yeah, man. Giant donut dude brings the size, I bring the gravitas."

"Is that treatable?" Hunk asked innocently, drawing a groan, then he straightened and crossed his arms while plastering on his surliest expression. "You mean like this?"

"Ah! Better, better. Let's fucking do this." Setting his sights on the door ahead, Lance stalked forward into… another hallway. Well, that had been a little anticlimactic.

"Yes sir," Daniel smirked, drawing a disbelieving look.

"Did you just call me sir when we're pirates?"

"Figured I never do it when I'm a cadet, pirates should be the opposite, right?"

"Arrr, matey!" Hunk chimed in, getting an elbow from their medic. He was pretty used to that, really.

Shaking his head, Lance looked around where they'd ended up: a short hallway ending in a trio of doors. The one on the right was labeled Procurement and Distribution. "Okay, here we go." Lance walked to that one, pushed it open, and damn near drew his guns.

What the fuck?!

A snake man was standing there.

It wasn't Bokar. As his initial reflex wore off he could see that; never mind Bokar being twenty feet tall and—as of their stop on Khoru—dismembered and crispy, this one had different markings. He was positive the eyes he'd had to shoot at hadn't been framed in the red scales this one had. Would've made things so much easier.

"Who are you?" The Najari didn't seem a whole lot happier to see them, raising a stun baton and stepping forward. "What busssinesssss do you have here?"

Lance managed to keep most of his shock from his expression, and eyed the baton without flinching. Daniel gave a big grin. On one side of them, Hunk put on his best scary face; on the other side Jace was just wearing his normal face. "We're looking for some information."

It wasn't much of an answer, and the snake wasn't impressed. "And what, or who, are you sssseeking?"

"Pirev. We have some questions regarding a criminal and an artifact."

Knowing the name seemed to give them a little credibility, though the guard still wasn't convinced. "She issss very bussssy. Do you have an appointment?"

Seriously? He put a hand on one of his guns. "Do I look like I need a fucking appointment?"

The guard jabbed his chest with the non-business end of the baton. "Yesssss."

"Naaah, I don't think so," Hunk countered in his most threatening tone; Lance looked between them and smirked.

Looking up at Hunk, the guard gave a slightly contemptuous hiss. "You do not sssseem prone to thinking."

Hunk didn't even flinch at that; his Big Dumb Hunk persona hadn't come out of nowhere. Jace, though, glared daggers. Nobody else got to call giant donut dumbass a dumbass and get away with it. "You watch your mouth, scales-for-brains."

Before things could get really ugly, a door opened behind the guard and admitted a second Najari. This one was female; Lance could tell by her black and silver scales. More to the point, he could tell because after the Bokar incident, Daniel had gone and read the entire diplomatic entry on the Najari and given a full report on what he'd learned. Just to annoy him. If he'd known it would be useful someday he might not have done it.

"What's all this commotion?"

Lance gave his most winning smile. "Pirev?"

She looked back at him, impassive. "Earthling?"

"We need to have a chat with you about a criminal?"

"Thesssssse onesss think they do not need an appointment to sssspeak with you," the guard interrupted grumpily.

"At least we can think," Daniel snorted.

"I have yet to ssssee proof."

"That's enough, Ammab." Pirev looked between them, red eyes sparking with skeptical curiosity. "I will listen to them." She spoke without the hissing accent of the guard; in fact her s-sounds were noticeably shortened. Clearly it was a practiced skill.

"Yeah, Ammab." Lance looked pointedly at the baton still jabbed into his chest. It didn't budge. Well, maybe soon.

Pirev didn't seem inclined to tell him to knock it off, either. "One is best not to ask after criminals in this outpost, Earthlings. Not least because the category is rather broad. Explain, perhaps in more detail."

He could do that. Sort of. "This one has a jones for all things Altean?"

"This guy," Daniel added helpfully, pulling out his wanted poster. "See? He's so good even the Alliance is after him."

The Najari seemed deeply amused. "You surely have not come here in hopes of having a fugitive turned over to you."

"Of fucking course not."

"Are you fucking joking?"

"Do we look like authorities to you?"

There was little arguing with that point, and finally she nodded. "Ammab, stand down. Earthlings, come to my office." She headed back in the door she'd come out of as her guard gave an irritated hiss.

Lance pushed past Ammab with an equally irritated glare, and Daniel couldn't help the smirk. "I don't think he likes you."

"Likewisssse," the snake man grumbled, returning to his station by the door.

"Bokar was prettier," the kid murmured sadly, just loud enough for Lance to hear.

"Dude, don't even."

Pirev's office had several very large, heavily padded chairs; they seemed designed to accommodate as many different races as possible, with the heavy padding easily contouring as they sat. Daniel grinned as he sank into one. "These chairs rock."

The Najari sat in her own chair, in a cross-legged pose that couldn't possibly have been comfortable for nearly any other humanoid, and studied them contemplatively as they got settled. "You are new here," she finally observed, her tongue darting out a few times.

"I am," Lance agreed with a wink. She actually was quite pretty, as snakes went, though anything would be better than that Bokar.

"The Scavenger's Exchange is a marketplace, and I am an officer of logistics. It complicates my job and our profits if I ask too many questions of our patrons, you understand." He nodded, and she continued. "It is not within our interests to take sides in the squabbles between criminals; we must be a trusted arbiter. To go against that, I would require a convincing argument…" Her tongue flicked out again. "Or a convincing price. What is your business with this criminal you seek?"

Here went nothing. "From what we've heard, this guy's found some good Altean bits and bobs. Quality stuff. Hefty prizes. I want to figure out where they're coming from, and get my hands on the next ones before he does."

"Altean…" She was quiet for a few moments, and her eyes darted over the monitor on her desk before she nodded. "I can count on the scales of one hand how many such relics have come through this place in my tenure."

"You see why I'm so interested, then."

"Indeed. I wonder why you think this would be the place to look."

I'll bet. "I've heard great things about you, Pirev." He rolled the R dramatically, then snatched the poster and waved it; Daniel glared for a moment. Why were people always snatching his stuff? "Our guy here stole the Altean relic you, or someone else here, sold to Zandrek… and now you say you've seen other Altean relics as well. Where else would I go?"

Flattery didn't quite seem to do the trick. "I specialize in procurement and distribution, not recording. Nonetheless…" Her expression became a bit predatory. "There are many paths to profit in the galaxy. What is beating this thief to these relics worth to you?"

Okay now that's kind of hot. Meeting her gaze, Lance leaned forward and cracked a small smirk. "I plan to be a legend." Fortunately, he had her full attention, because Daniel couldn't suppress rolling his eyes at that; Jace and Hunk exchanged bemused looks before getting their scary pirate faces back on.

Pirev gave an amused hiss. "Legends are fleeting. But those willing to expend the costs can find that status… we do have a keeper of records. They could tell you the source of every Altean artifact to ever cross through our markets."

"I'm not averse to doing what's necessary," Lance answered calmly. They were getting somewhere. Ask for something simple, just ask for something simple… for a long moment she just stared at him, and he held her gaze. He wouldn't be the one to back down here.

"…Such information is critical to our operation, Earthling, and it is very well-protected. Make me an offer."

Well, fuck. Looking back at the others, he briefly considered offering Jace, but then decided against it. Who'd want him? Maybe it was better to just throw the question back… "Legends have more to offer than mere pirates," he pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

"That is true." She made a noise that was somewhat akin to a laugh. "And if I were interested in betting on legends, I'd have become one myself…" Reaching for a small figurine on her desk, she flicked it open and revealed a keypad beneath. The team tensed slightly, but she simply typed in a code; there was a hydraulic hiss as the room's vents sealed themselves, and a low crackle of white noise filled the room.

"…Security seal," Hunk commented, exhaling. "Neat trick." He'd had to put something similar together in an Academy class once, though his had involved more explosions and classic rock.

"Cool?" Daniel shifted in his chair and shrugged. As long as it hadn't murdered them he was fine with it.

"Security is paramount here." She bared long, thin fangs. "We may speak freely now."

"Perfect." Lance gave another winning smile. "Who says you aren't a legend? The stories I've heard are impressive." Did anyone tell stories about her? Seemed like they ought to. It hadn't taken that much effort to get her name.

She snorted. "I am intrigued by your boldness, Earthlings… and by your utter lack of guile. I'm willing to make a bet on you. But if you are burned as so many other would-be legends before you, I am unwilling to be caught in the blast. You will pay me well if you want this information, and you will do exactly as I tell you to… or my agents will see you exterminated."

Oh. Well that wasn't concerning at all. Lance kept his bravado up, smirking in response to the threat. Just play it cool. "Alright, tell me your requests and we'll consider them."

"Twenty thousand alcreds, as… a down payment, shall we say." She leaned back in her chair, tapping her clawed fingers on the desk. "That will give you the name of a contact, one of those who protects our records. You will go to her, you will give her the coded message I give you. One of you will be permitted access to the record keeper. At the first sign of duplicity, that one will die."

That was… one hell of a starting offer. Lance's mind raced. They weren't actually planning any duplicity—this time—but those still didn't seem like the sort of terms a sane person would agree to. Of course, there were only so many sane people in this operation, and they did have the invisible ninja trump card to play…

Finally he decided to start at the easiest part and work from there. The 686 still only had so much of a bribe budget, too. "Two thousand alcreds."

"And why would I agree to that?" Her eyes narrowed. "If you find what you're looking for, that down payment will be well worth your while, don't you agree?"

You have no idea. He smiled slyly. "Because we'll also give you twelve percent of what we earn off any Altean artifacts we find."

Pirev's scales tensed. He wasn't sure how else to describe it; they rippled and seemed to stand slightly on edge, casting shadows along the silver mottling that covered her body. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Glancing to the side, Lance saw Jace's hand going to his sidearm, and Hunk tensing himself. Okay, at least he wasn't the only one worried.

"You are either very confident," the Najari finally murmured, "or you think I am very naive."

"I doubt you're naive." Lance winked. Jace was giving him a doubtful look that he resolutely ignored. I've got this. …Right?

Daniel wasn't doubtful at all. Charm was Lance's thing! They'd be fine. And if they weren't, he could at least snark about Lance's charm needing more training before they all died. It would be a good way to go.

Nobody was dying yet, at least. "I don't need the paltry bribe I first demanded, Earthling. That was to ensure your honesty. Your offer is very attractive, but it still requires trust I am unprepared to give."

Hmm. That did make sense, he supposed… inconvenient as it was. "And what can be done to gain trust?"

"Value must be exchanged for value. This is the basic rule of both commerce and trust, wouldn't you agree?"

That probably wasn't how he'd have put it. "Of course."

Now she definitely looked predatory. "Two thousand as the initial payment, fifteen percent of your profits… and a tracking beacon on your ship. To ensure you are what you claim to be."

"Que fucking porra."

Lance turned to glare at Jace; Hunk and Daniel clearly had thoughts along similar lines, but both managed to keep quiet. So did Lance himself, come to that. Flynn would kill me before Keith even got the chance… maybe he could sweeten the deal enough to be worth the risk upfront. "Five thousand, no tracker, and twenty percent."

"An insult?" Or not. "I will do you the favor of pretending I didn't hear that."

Jace was not impressed with Lance's negotiating skills. To be fair, he wasn't unimpressed either—they didn't have a whole lot of leverage here, what he was offering was at least making sense. But they needed something more. The relic from Zandrek was right out, and unlike their first mission, they hadn't been collecting a whole lot of…

…Wait. Their first mission…?

Snake-chick would probably love the fucking garden of murder. But even as he was sorely tempted to blurt it out, something he couldn't explain stopped him. Turning over the temple, even with all its fuckery, to looters and scavengers just felt wrong. But then a second thought came on the heels of the first. Something that had pissed him off almost as much, and something much less significant to, well, anywhere.

He leaned over to their pilot and whispered, "Think they trade in giant monster parts here?"

Lance's eyes widened. Even though he hadn't seen the thing himself, it only took a moment to grasp what he was getting at. And it might be just what they needed… "Do you like mysteries and monsters, Pirev?" He rolled the R again; Daniel rolled his eyes again.

The Najari gave a low, curious hiss. "We trade in mysteries… and even monsters, at times. Do you have a better offer?"

Nodding, Lance leaned forward. "We've found some interesting things in our travels. A long way away, on a planet near Earth, we found the graveyard of a very large, very unknown beast." That got him two highly intrigued looks—one from Pirev, and one from Daniel, who was immediately irritated at the realization of another fun first mission story he must have missed.

"You know the location of this beast?" She still sounded skeptical. "Yet you haven't scavenged it yourselves…"

"I prefer living creatures and shiny things."

"Besides, the thing's gotta be like a mile long." Hunk had figured out what was going on too. "Ain't exactly our operational specialty. You get that, yeah?"

"Yes, I do… and how do I know this tale is real?"

Jace grinned slightly, pulling out his datapad. This was the easy part. "Because we've got pictures." Bringing up several of the shots they'd taken back on Kithran, he handed it over to the Najari and waited.

Daniel craned his neck to see the pictures as they passed by. He only had time for a glimpse, but that was enough. Holy shit… seeing his wide-eyed expression, Lance gave him a quick kick in the shins. Ow…!

Leaning forward, Pirev hissed softly, red eyes becoming very wide. There was no way the Earthlings could have fabricated this so quickly…

"This is appealing to you?"

"I am… extremely interested."

Smirk. "Twenty percent, no tracker, and the location of the beast as a down payment."

She barely even hesitated. "Yes. I will accept that trade."

"Beautiful." He looked back at Jace, who nodded, burning a data chip with the pictures and the location of the red desert on Kithran; the medic gave the chip to him, and he looked at the Najari expectantly. "Our information?"

"Of course." She was already typing. "Standard Alliance data format, I presume… our record-keeper, too, is on a distant world. Too many in this region of space sought to acquire our information the hard way." She fixed Lance with a deadly look; that was definitely hot. "Protect this information well, Earthlings. His security has not been breached in a decade. I'm sure you understand how it could… inconvenience you, should that change in the near future."

"It's safe with us," Lance assured her.

"Very well." She handed over two data chips; one in the Alliance's primary format, one seemingly etched onto a Najari scale. "Present the scale-chip to the contact that information leads you to. Without it, she will lead you nowhere. And Earthlings…" She gave a mildly unpleasant smile. "I wish you luck in your hunt. For our mutual profit."

"Thanks!" Daniel said brightly, winking; she wasn't near as hot as Bokar, but she was hot.

Lance snorted, handing over the chip with the Kithran data and accepting the two she offered. "And luck to you, Pirev."

But the Najari was not quite done twisting the knife. "Ammab will escort you back to your ship… to ensure you reach it safely. This outpost can be quite dangerous, and the information you hold is delicate. You understand."

Well, fuck. "Of course."

"…That's the kind of stunt I'd be so proud of the Viking for pulling," Jace muttered under his breath. He shrugged and tossed her a salute; he knew when they were beat.

Hunk gave a huge grin that wasn't remotely scary-looking. "Sure, we'll keep 'im safe." Daniel snerked.

Even Pirev seemed a bit amused by that. "Tell him you are favored clients. He will show you more politeness."

Oh, now that did sound fun. Lance couldn't help the huge smirk as they walked out of the office. "Oh, Ammab? You're to escort us back to our ship. We happen to be favored clients now."

"…Of coursssse you are," he muttered with resignation.

"The Drule mob boss was easier," Lance whispered to Daniel as they headed back into the corridors.

"Yeah. Your charming skills might need some more training."

Glare. "Are you dead? You look very alive."

"And it takes some fucking effort to keep you there," Jace agreed, "maybe don't tempt hellbent for leather here to shoot you."

Following behind the bickering Earthlings, stun baton at the ready, Ammab silently wondered if his boss hated him.

*****

Prince Avok walked through the quiet hallways of Castle Pollux, enjoying a brief moment of normality. Where he was heading would not be enjoyable. But for now, he smiled and acknowledged the servants as they passed by, helping a pair lugging a large desk into a study, and generally forgetting about Drules for a few precious minutes.

It wasn't Drules that were about to ruin his mood, either. Which was novel, anymore.

The best-kept secret of Castle Pollux was no locked tower or hidden catacomb. It was a simple door shrouded behind a beautifully woven tapestry of the Arus system, a silent reminder of beloved things lost. And behind that tapestry lay the quarters of the Dead Queen.

She wasn't dead.

Queen Ansala the Second was the rightful ruler of Pollux, but she was in no shape to hold the throne these days. It had fallen to her devoted king-consort, and perhaps not to the planet's benefit… Avok remembered his mother. Remembered her playing catch with him in the gardens, teaching Romelle her letters and numbers, walking with their father in the far-flung villages to gauge the mood of the people. His memories were probably a bit idealized, but how could they not be?

It was the birth of her third child that had changed everything. There had been complications; Bandor had been born on the very edge of death. The royal doctors had saved him. But not before the Queen had seen his still, shriveled body, and plunged into a psychosis from which she'd never recovered.

Avok remembered that too. The screams. The panic. Shielding Romelle from the worst of it while their father raged and the servants wept. None of it had done any good. And now?

Speaking of the Queen, as she currently survived, in their father's presence was forbidden… though he did often speak fondly, even achingly, of her memory. As far as King Kova was concerned, Queen Ansala had tragically passed in childbirth. And he was left an embittered shell of a man, scorning the good of fragile individuals as a distant afterthought to the survival of Pollux.

It was ironic, considering…

"Avok! Avok, I'm sorry I'm late, Lady Aldrys made me stay until I could tell her the whole Drule pantheon…"

"Of course she did," he snorted as his brother came running up the hallway. Just one more insult. What was the point in preserving Pollux if they were expected to even worship the Drule gods? There wasn't going to be a Pollux left for long, one way or another… he shook it off. "It's alright, your studies have to come first. Come on, let's—wait." Frown. "You know you can't bring that thing with you."

Bandor looked up at him, then at the little ball of fluffy feathers and glossy scales curled on his shoulder. "That thing has a name," he protested. "It's Dóro, and he's coming with me. Maybe she'll like him!"

"Or maybe she'll think he's a devil and have one of her fits," Avok muttered, "the same as she thinks about every single living creature who walks through those doors except us and Lady Zeralle."

"Dóro won't be walking," his brother answered stubbornly, as if that were the point at all. "If she doesn't like him I'll tell him to go, he can fly a little now and everything."

"Oh, fine." It wasn't even that Avok disliked his brother's pet. He wasn't fond of its origins, to be sure, but Bandor doted on the little calcatrix and seemed to be learning some responsibility from it. "But the moment it seems to upset her, it goes."

"Promise." Then he turned to the creature with a stern expression. "Hear him, Dóro? Don't upset her!" The calcatrix looked back at him, gave a quizzical shake of its tiny wings, and sneezed.

Shaking his head, Avok pushed the door open. The rooms beyond were cold and dusty, with black sheets hanging from furniture and walls. Ansala herself had done that. And she emerged from a side door almost the moment they entered… a corpse-like creature with marble-white skin and gray cheek markings, both drained of color and life by her years of isolation.

"Mother!"

Bandor had no memory of their mother before the madness. Sometimes Avok wondered if that made it easier for him. He scurried forward now and took her hands, drawing a rare smile from the woman who thought he was a ghost. "Bandor." She looked up past him. "Avok. I am so happy to see you safe again from the devils…"

"I'm sorry it's been so long." He bowed his head before stepping forward and patting her cheek. "Are you well?" Of course she wasn't. But she didn't know she wasn't.

"Well enough. You needn't apologize." She reached up and touched his cheek in return. "I know the dead are very busy. But please, stay with me for a time."

"Of course." He stepped back and sat in one of the black-sheeted chairs. Marked for the exclusive use of her children, all of whom she was convinced were dead… so as not to leave any traces for the 'devils' to follow. Sitting in an uncovered chair would cause one of her fits; she couldn't abide the ghosts of her children putting themselves at risk.

When you knew to work around her many triggers, she could still be quite pleasant. Sometimes that made it worse.

"Bandor," she said with a small smile, "have you acquired an angel?"

"Huh? He's, uh—" A sharp look from Avok made Bandor reconsider whatever he'd been starting to say, and he grinned sadly as he sat on another covered chair. "Yeah. He's an angel, a kind of protector angel. His name's Dóro, do you like him?"

"I'm happy to hear he's protecting you."

When their mother looked away for a moment, Bandor shot Avok his best told-you-so look; his brother shrugged. Her not being set off by the calcatrix was definitely a good thing.

"But speaking of protectors… Romelle has not come to me in a very long time," she murmured, looking at them with pleading eyes. "Tell me the devils haven't taken her."

…Oh.

But they have. Avok could hardly bring himself to speak that truth, so he went for the next closest thing. "No, Mother. It's alright. Romelle is away on an important mission, to protect us from the devils. But she'll be able to visit again in time."

He hoped he wasn't lying.

*****

As far as anyone else in the shelter knew, it was just a trip to the surface so Tanner could see the sun. It was a partial truth; they would be on the surface, and he would see the sun. They would just be going a bit further than anyone would know. He was also going with the knowledge there was a strong chance he would be returning to be by his father's side.

Nanny had busied herself with the welfare of everyone else within the shelter. Larmina was tasked with overseeing things again; she and Nanny were already butting heads about things, which felt strangely normal. Coran made sure a different group of guards would travel with them than last time, per Allura's request; most of them this time were part of Sherion's group. Tanner had a chuckle with the small sparkflint device they were bringing. It was carved into the shape of a salamander, and though clearly carefully crafted, he couldn't help but find it comical with its beady eyes and goofy wide-open mouth.

"Do you want me to light an Uma leaf, Tanner?" Allura asked as they were just about to move. The plants were rare, evolved beside the fireblossom cacti of the Arusian deserts; exposed to flame they would create an intense heat reaction, rather than burning and being consumed. They were much more efficient than conventional heating packs, and one of few things that could bring relief in the final stages of the cave-mold.

"Just a small one please," he replied quietly as he handed the sparkflint to his sister.

Picking off a small piece of the plant they were bringing, she placed it in front of the nose of the sparkflint device. Giving it a good squeeze a few times caused small reddish sparks to fly from the salamander's mouth. As a few caught onto the plant, a slight sizzling sound came from it, the fire seemingly being wicked away into the veins of the leaf. Allura then wrapped the plant with a special cloth made to handle the Uma plant's unique reaction. Once she could feel the heating effects, she handed it to her brother, who tucked it within the blankets.

"Sis…" Tanner's voice was soft and slightly hoarse as they began. This seemed like more than was needed for just a trip to the surface. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to see someone… someone I know you would love to see once more," she said with a soft chuckle. "Why don't you rest right now? Save your energy for when we get closer." He nodded, intrigued by the promise of a surprise, and clutched his blankets as they started out.

Most of the trip was quiet. While they were above ground, Tanner smiled widest as he played with a leaf that fell into the small sled they were carrying him in. Allura tried to keep a strong and hopeful face, but she could sense time passing far too quickly for him. She was worried they would not reach the place in time…

Coran took the lead, noting the lack of movement around them. It would seem the Drules weren't scouting as much anymore, but he was not going lower his defenses. Allura was only happy to know they were able to reach the side access with little trouble.

"Is this where I think we are?" Tanner asked with a slight cough.

Allura nodded as she tapped into the hidden control panel. "Coran… I'll need your help to bring Tanner with me."

Coran looked at her briefly as he finished directing the guards to keep watch on the tunnel entrance. He had assumed he would stay by the tunnel doorway like the last time, and he knew she didn't really need his help for this when she'd handled Alfor's body alone. Her wanting him to join her, then, was a matter of trust. "Of course, my princess," he replied with a knowing smile.

They carefully carried the prince up the stairs by the edge of the tunnel, and he coughed a bit more as they grew close, asking more than once if they were there yet. The excitement in his tone was clear. Coran was curious as to what precisely they might be approaching, and was surprised by the sight of machinery at the end of the rail tracks. His focus on the computers there was broken by Tanner, calling for him to fully enter. As his eyes moved from the computers by the walls to the main cavern, all of his thoughts seemed to flee his mind… replaced by pure awe at the massive robotic lion that lay within the den.

"Hello, Lion of Storms. Please say you can speak today?" Allura called out softly.

"Hello Black…" Tanner squeaked between coughs.

The Lion's eyes lit up bright, and a rumble came from deep within him. "Just barely, royal cubs. Why have you come here?"

Allura placed Tanner by the great Lion's jaw, looking up at the golden eyes with worry. "Tanner… I hoped you would be able to speak to him. I felt he should see you… one more…"

"Ah… I see now." Black didn't force her to finish her words.

Tanner's ashen face was suddenly glowing with joy. "I can… your voice! Sis, he's speaking! It's incredible!"

Another rumble came from the lion, a purr that might even have been a sad chuckle. "Thank you, tiny cub. My time is short before I must rest, but may I tell you some things?"

"Yes, please, Black. Tell me anything!" the young prince squealed between coughs.

Allura could feel the soft rumble of Black's voice, but the words seemed to fade as the great Lion's focus fell fully upon her brother. Nodding sadly she separated herself from their conversation to focus on Coran, who was still gazing spellbound at the Lion's form. He could hear nothing from it, but he didn't really need to. "Behold… the family secret. The Lions are real," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Coran looked at her, only pulling his gaze away with some difficulty. "Lions… as in all five Lions of the tales?"

Allura nodded. "They have been sleeping for generations. Father found something at Zohar, something that managed to begin to wake them. But something still keeps them from fully waking up." She sighed, then raised her head as the light within the den flickered. They both turned, looking at Black's eyes, watching them fade into darkness.

"Was that…?"

Walking back to the Lion and placing a hand on his jaw, Allura sighed again. "I fear he has gone back to sleep." Turning her attention to Tanner, she knelt beside him and smiled sadly. "I hope you're not upset that the Lion of Storms has fallen asleep so swiftly. I know he is trying to wake."

The young prince didn't respond, or even move. He was just looking at Black with a wide smile across his face, his body seemingly relaxed. Allura touched his cheek cautiously, and shivered as the Golden Mark dimmed beneath her fingers. While his body was still warm, she could sense the truth. They had come just in time… everything else had been claimed by the illness.

Even knowing it was coming, to see the truth…

Allura collapsed to the ground by her brother, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall. Coran knelt down beside her, taking her by the shoulders and leaning her up against him.

"I heard him mention hearing the Great Lion's voice," he said softly, hoping to offer even just a sliver of reassurance. He could see the expression on Tanner's face, the dying peace so many Arusians had been denied. "You have given your brother the greatest gift one could ever imagine." The princess looked at him, nodding, before burying her face in his shoulder once more.

Looking up at the sleeping Lion, Coran couldn't help but feel as if the world were shifting madly around him. The loss of Arus, of the King and the Prince, and now the revelation of the Lions combined into a certainty. Whatever it takes to wake the Great Lions again, whatever is required of me to aid this mission… I shall see it done. I swear it.

For now, there was only Allura to worry about, his greatest priority from this moment on. Nodding sadly, he held her for as long as she needed.