(On the Hunt) Chapter 36

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 36

Unto the Breach

The Calidar system was thoroughly unspectacular. It was composed of a weak, inconsequential star with a single small, uninhabitable planet in its orbit. It had long been a popular waypoint for Alliance vessels traveling to and from the Seventh Kingdom, due to its convenient location and lack of clutter.

Alliance vessels were not supposed to be traveling to and from the Seventh Kingdom, of course, but it hadn't stopped anyone yet.

Not terribly pleased to have a frequent waypoint so close to their border, the Ninth Kingdom had laid claim to the Calidar system and built a monitoring station about a decade ago. Citing the Deros Convention, the Alliance had simply refused to change its routing. All that had really happened was now some beleaguered Drule comms officers had to deal with the occasional merchant or scout runner coming through.

Or perhaps an incognito Explorer Team… in any case, it shouldn't have been any trouble.

The moment the Bolt breached out of hyperspace, it became clear there was going to be trouble.

"I'm just getting static from the station," Cam reported, abandoning his intended check-in as the comms hissed a protest. "There's a contact on sensors." At the helm, Lance sat up a little straighter; Sven watched his instruments worriedly. Even Daniel put down his datapad—which he certainly hadn't been playing games on, that had been banned—and turned his attention to the gunnery panel. "Starboard side, approaching at speed. It's Drule."

"The fuck?"

"Uh oh."

Back in the engine bay, Flynn waved his wrenchlings to their stations. And not just the wrenchlings. "Doctor, grab a spot." Jace had been in the bay delivering Vince's latest scan results, not that there had been anything to deliver. "I don't like this." Maybe it was the slight crackle of static over there internal comms giving an ominous cast to the situation, but the medic didn't even protest before finding an unoccupied bracing bar.

"Inbound vessel, this is the ACS Jupiter's Bolt requesting waypoint clearance," Cam tried in Drakure as the Drule ship approached. It was a capital ship, but just barely; a bit over twice the size of their own Vagrant, but narrow, with several weapon ports visible along its cylindrical hull.

Finally a voice cut through the static in lightly accented Common. "Hail, Earthlings." Cam started to give a sigh of relief, but didn't even finish it before being corrected. "Looks like you, what's the expression, 'won the wrong lottery'. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded, and we won't splatter you all over the void."

Lance got out the obvious statement before anyone else could. "I repeat. The fuck."

"Um." Their comms officer grimaced, then eyed his panel. "Maybe this would be a good time for the commander…?"

"Uh. Maybe," Daniel agreed. And he wouldn't have thought he'd ever agree with bringing Keith onto the bridge when he wasn't there.

They didn't need to call him; he'd been monitoring, and swept in almost the moment Cam suggested it. "I'm here."

"It's an Andura-class troop frigate," Pidge reported. "In the Ninth Kingdom only raiders and pirates really favor it."

"Vince, route power to shields." Flynn recognized the ship designation and opted for cautious optimism. It was a troop frigate—most of its weapons were either point defense or artillery to support its forces on the ground, not ship-to-ship armaments. "Kogane, as best I know an Andura is not capable of splattering us all over the void."

"Good to hear, Kleid." Keith eyed the screen and crossed his arms. "Cam, let them know we're not here to cause hostilities, but if they insist, we'll defend ourselves."

"Yes sir." He relayed it in Drakure mostly on principle; the other ship's Common had been just fine.

It was again, though the sharp turn really gave the answer before they even spoke. "That wasn't a request." The Andura's drive flare brightened as it began streaking forward on a full attack run.

"Holy shit!" Lance wrenched the Bolt around and attempted to gain some distance, evading a first charge, but the Vagrant remained less than receptive to the maneuvers. "Fuck this fucking boat of a ship…"

"Kleid, tell me the shields are at full right now. Brennan, if they open fire don't wait for an order."

"Do I ever?" Daniel snorted. He'd already been trying to line up a shot, but the Drule ship was resisting all his attempts at a missile lock.

"Shields are at full," Flynn confirmed, keeping his eyes on the monitors as the Andura circled back. This time rather than a straight charge it dipped beneath the plane the Bolt was on, lining up with the belly of the ship rather than targeting its narrower profile. "…Faex. Shields aren't going to help if they ram us!"

"Sir." Pidge had been running analysis in the absence of other instructions. "I know Andura don't usually have boarding cutters, but this one does."

The chief swore a bit more in Latin under his breath, checking the scans and nodding. No question. And it was getting too close… "Flyboy, either get us out of here or full stop." If it hit them somewhere other than the cargo bay, they'd be in real trouble. "…If you stop we might want to grab our guns."

"Even as good as I am, I can't outfly that ship…" Lance understood Flynn's instruction and didn't wait for Keith to second it, engaging the reverse thrusters and bringing the Bolt to a dead stop in the darkness. "I need my rifle."

"Are 'boarding cutters' what they fucking sound like?" Jace asked quietly; Flynn, Hunk, and Pidge answered in unison.

"Yes."

Almost immediately after they'd said it, an impact from the Drule vessel rocked the ship, its flat bow punching into the cargo bay doors and warping them slightly. Several secondary crunches heralded the docking clamps latching in place, and then the visceral hum of laser cutters began to rattle the ship.

Keith's eyes narrowed, and he growled a few curses of his own—just in Japanese rather than Latin—before spinning around and heading back to the hatch. "All of you, weapons, now!"

Everyone on the bridge scattered except for Daniel, who already had his sidearm and unlike a lot of these people didn't have a whole collection of extra guns sitting around. He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do, so he opted to just keep sitting in his chair—

"—Kid, stay put!"

"…I wasn't even going anywhere," he assured their pilot, then turned the comms off and shook his head. "I swear that guy is way too overprotective." Yet he couldn't find it in himself to be all too upset.

"Good idea, Lance." Keith had his sidearm and his sword and was running for the nearest elevator. No sense staying up here when the Drules would be coming from below. "Cam, Daniel, keep the bridge secure. Sven, Lance, with me." He hadn't really needed to call that last bit over the comms, given they were all in the same hallway; Sven had his battle axe, while Lance was sporting seemingly every gun he'd brought at once.

Back in the engine bay, Flynn grabbed his own rifle from the rack at the entry hatch—he'd been keeping it there since the Bokar incident. Just in case. Hunk had produced a machine pistol from somewhere, and Jace had his sidearm at the ready. "Vince, Pidge, you two stay here."

Vince was not about to argue with that order; Pidge looked indignant. "Sir, I'm one of the best fighters here—"

"—Which is why you're going to stay here and hold the engine bay."

The ninja blinked, eyes widening slightly as he grasped what was actually being ordered. "…Yessir!"

All Vince managed was a nod. Oh holy heck…

Racing through the corridors, Keith switched his personal comm unit to a secured frequency. "Where were they cutting through?"

"They hit the cargo bay," Flynn answered after taking a moment to check for sure. Then he, Hunk, and Jace were out of the engine bay and running to meet the others. Hopefully. "It's the biggest target—" A shrill alarm started blasting through the corridor, accompanied by red and gold warning lights. "—and that's a full breach of hull integrity."

"Well fuck," Lance muttered.

"Shit," Keith agreed.

"Language," Sven said grimly, drawing a snort from both of them—they probably needed that right now. "You have a plan in mind?"

The commander nodded. "The main corridor on each deck is a complete circle. Bridge is locked down, I'm guessing engineering is too."

"We've got the kids holding the bay," Hunk confirmed.

"Good. I think we should take out as many as we can in the cargo bay." They wouldn't be able to pin them all down, most likely; Keith didn't know how many soldiers an Andura carried, but troop frigate was at least a hint. And there were a lot of exits from the main cargo bay: four on each deck, with small maintenance staircases to link the decks together. "Whoever gets by us, we split up and hunt down."

"I like it."

"Go to the cargo balconies, see if we can pin 'em down?"

With one hand on the elevator controls to the lower decks, Keith paused. It probably was a better idea than just charging in on the same level as the enemy. "Good call, Hunk. Everyone onto the balconies… quietly. Snipe as many as you can." He turned to the internal airlock behind him—at least the Vagrant put all its connective infrastructure in one place—then nodded to Lance and Sven. "Let's go hunting."

Flynn, Hunk, and Jace had reached the internal airlock opposite where the bridge crew had gone. "Boarding cutters create an airtight seal," the chief engineer said quietly as they entered. "Be a bit useless if they didn't. We'll have atmosphere as long as they're locked to us."

"Oh good," Jace grumbled. "At least we'll have air while we're shooting at the hostile takeover."

Hunk grinned. "It'll be breathtaking!"

"…Only the Viking gets to say shit like that." He fell silent as the door slid open with a soft hiss; they saw the other three across from them, exchanging nods. Time to shut up and shoot shit.

There were a lot of Drules in the cargo bay. Dozens, easily. The ship's classification had definitely not been a lie. They were coming through the hole they'd made in pairs, watching each other's backs as they made their way to the internal airlocks… but they weren't looking up. Yet.

Lance set up on one end of the narrow maintenance balcony with his sniper rifle. Across from him, Flynn was doing the same with his scout rifle; they exchanged smirks and opened fire. Keith, Jace, and even Sven—may as well at least cause some chaos—quickly joined in with their sidearms before the Drules below could focus on their marksmen. Hunk, with his usual subtlety, leaned over the rail and started blasting away with his machine pistol, not hitting a whole lot but sending ricochets and sparks bouncing through the Drule ranks.

"Porra…" Jace reached over and grabbed the back of the big engineer's vest, yanking him back away from the rail just before a flurry of lasers flashed through where he'd been.

"…Thanks, Doc."

"Don't fucking mention it."

Hunk had not been the only one not hitting much. Sven was actually trying, though; he was at least lining up his shots well enough to make some enemies flinch. That was probably the best he could ask for. Taking aim again, he squeezed the trigger and a plasma bolt flashed out, scorching a Drule in the leg. Improvement! He took a moment to be proud of his achievement… it had only been a few feet off from where he was aiming.

In that moment, Lance noted the limping Drule and put a shot squarely through its skull. The one next to it dropped a moment later from two rifle rounds in the back, Flynn's lighter gun still doing the job with efficiency. Keith had his sights set on the gaping hole where the Andura had breached the doors, picking off those he could with his pistol or at least giving them something to think about.

It wasn't going to be enough.

"Did they bring a whole fucking platoon?" Jace snarled in frustration, ducking back to avoid some return fire from an attacker he'd just barely grazed. "Do Drules even use platoons?"

"Looks like a platoon." Lance took a shot at one that was trying to force a lower airlock open, bringing them down, but they were starting to bring deflectors up out of the ship as they continued taking fire from all directions. "They're going to get in."

"There's too many," Flynn agreed, picking off one taking aim at the other balcony.

Keith nodded, holstering his sidearm and backing off. "Move it, then. We can bottleneck them in the corridors." The Drules had numbers, and perhaps thought a show of overwhelming force would win them the battle. But the 686 was on their own turf, and the advantage of numbers would be severely cut down by the Bolt's cramped corridors. They had a fighting chance. "We'll take deck one. Flynn, you and your team take deck two, do what you can to stop anyone from getting past." If they made it to deck three, they still had the kids protecting the bridge and the engine bay, and there was hardly anything on deck four to begin with. It would be good enough… it would have to be. "Lock down the elevators, take the emergency stairs."

"Let's rock this!" As the others ran back through the airlocks, Hunk took a moment to leave his datapad on the balcony and kick the volume to full. Booming death metal filled the bay, bouncing around the cavernous walls, just to add a little extra chaos as the team retreated.

A full-on hostile boarding was really no reason to not be completely on brand, was it? Of course it wasn't.

*****

Whether the pirates knew the layout of a Vagrant or not, any halfway competent boarding party would be sure to swarm wherever they could. Whatever else these attackers were, they did seem to be halfway competent. By the time Flynn, Hunk, and Jace reached deck two, they could see a pair of Drules at the other end of the corridor, trying to breach the equipment floor of the engineering bay. That area, at least, was heavily reinforced. It held both the breach drive and the backup generator, both of which were quite capable of killing someone who wandered near them at the wrong time; apparently the invaders saw fit to ignore the very large red warning labels plastered on the armored hatch.

Unlocking it for them was probably a bad idea despite those facts, so Flynn raised his rifle and squeezed off a shot. "What part of 'DANGER, DO NOT ENTER' don't you lot understand?"

"Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake," Jace scolded, taking a shot himself.

One rifle round and one fiery streak of plasma traversed the corridor in a split second. Jace's shot scorched into one Drule's stomach and dropped him with a scream; Flynn's punched squarely into the other Drule's chest but failed to penetrate, and even as she staggered back she was raising her weapon to return fire.

They ducked back around the corner as laser fire peppered the bulkhead, leaving several molten dents. Jace quickly dropped to the floor, poking his head back around and firing again, this time taking her down.

The trio checked the internal airlock next to them before running down the corridor to intercept anyone else who might arrive. Nobody seemed to be coming from that stairway, at least; Flynn and Hunk took up covering positions as their medic checked out the fallen Drules. "One dead, one close."

"Good enough." Flynn frowned at the female; his first shot really should have at least made a hole. "They have armor?" They certainly didn't look like it, but he wasn't the expert on infantry.

Poking the not-quite-dead invader's shirt, Jace nodded. "Just ballistic cloth, looks like. It'll stop penetration, but not blunt force trauma. Double tap everything."

"Good to know."

"Real good." Hunk grinned slightly and waved his machine pistol, which didn't really come with a setting lower than triple tapping. "Where to?"

"Next stairway." Nodding, they ran forward, taking the corners with caution… and yet still running headlong into another group of Drules who weren't showing nearly the same good judgment.

"Shit!" Forgoing his sidearm entirely, Jace grabbed the leader and torqued his arm around until he felt the joint pop and heard the laser rifle clatter to the floor. Then he dropped and threw him backwards.

He had not exactly intended to fling the Drule straight at Hunk, but that was what he ended up with, and the big man almost reflexively threw a punch into the attacker's face. Bluish blood spurted as the blow shattered his nose and he dropped with a groan.

It didn't seem like the others had been ready to see their leader taken down with quite that kind of barehanded savagery. Then Flynn stepped forward and drew his sidearm—if they needed blunt force trauma, a Desert Eagle would damn well do the trick. Shooting point blank into the new lead Drule's chest, he heard a bone snap somewhere, and his second shot took the target straight through the skull.

And jammed the gun, because why wouldn't it? But at least it had thrown the enemy off. By a lot. The return fire was wildly inaccurate, though Jace was grazed by one laser and left with a mild burn across his thigh.

Turning to each other and nodding, medic and bomb tech both lunged forward into the ranks. The three remaining Drules had little choice to engage hand to hand or risk shooting each other. Flynn was under a similar restriction as he raised his rifle, but with his teammates each bringing one enemy to the ground he got a clear shot at the remaining invader fairly quickly.

In a hail of fists and bullets, the 686 held the corridor.

"That ship was right on the seam of the bay doors," Hunk said as he straightened up, frowning down the corridor. "If we open 'em up we can kick it off, yeah?"

Flynn paused a moment, considering that option as he reloaded. "It might work. But we have to make sure all the airlocks are sealed first, they may have breached others."

"Sounds good to me." Jace slammed another plasma cell into his own gun and nodded. "Let's clear some blue fuckers and close some doors."

They moved on.

*****

Vince had barely moved since the others had left the bay. His mind was racing. What the heck am I supposed to do? He had his sidearm—standard issue plasma, nothing fancy—and he'd passed marksmanship. Neither of those small plusses felt remotely up to the situation at hand.

Pidge was having no such difficulties, and was fully focused on the consoles. Whatever he was doing with the consoles. "Open up the engine shafts."

An instruction! Vince liked instructions; he was moving to fulfill it before really even thinking about it. "How are you sounding so normal?" he asked in a voice that definitely squeaked just a little.

"This isn't the first time someone's tried to kill me," the ninja answered patiently, then looked back at the hatches as his roommate popped them open. "Okay, let's keep shafts 2 and 3 clear. 1 and 4, be ready to duck in if you need cover, though that isn't optimal."

"Duck into…?" Vince followed his gaze. "Wait, why did I just do that exactly?"

"To hide in, or to lock Drules in." Pidge shrugged. "Whichever circumstances dictate."

He blinked. Several times. "…Of course." Then, "Wait. You do just mean the Galra ninja when you say someone tried to kill you, right?" Oh yeah, because that's pertinent, Vince.

"No. Is that relevant?"

…Welp. "Uh. Maybe? But not right now I guess… what exactly are you planning here?"

"Disabling the electronic lock so they have to physically force their way in, for one thing." It was a move that might well inconvenience them later, but for the moment it seemed like the best tactic. "If they do, we'll kill them before they kill us. Do you have your gun?"

"Yeah, but I haven't shot anything since the Academy."

Pidge eyed him, then shrugged. "Fair, I don't like guns either. Aim center of mass on the hatch, at least you'll get one good shot off."

Oh. Well, at least it was another instruction. "So you prefer stabbing." That came out more than a little sarcastic. "…Okay I get snarky when I'm freaked out, sorry."

It got him another odd look. Pidge absolutely did prefer stabbing, or at least throwing weapons. "It was an accurate observation."

"Right, uh, I guess so? Still sounded snarky to me…" He trailed off as Pidge shrugged, then trained his gun on the hatch and waited.

And waited…

The engine bay was well soundproofed when it was fully locked down, and they didn't have the comms open. The tension became crushing all too quickly, and Vince's arm was cramping. He sighed, shifting a little, trying to dispel the discomfort and almost wishing the Drules would just show up… really? I'm really impatient for bad guys?

Even Pidge noticed. "You can probably lower that until we hear them, if you think you can react clearly enough. It will take them a little time to get through the hatch."

Immediately he lowered the gun. "Thanks." What faith he did or didn't have in his reaction time was a side issue; it seemed better than his arm turning to jelly either way.

They waited for another couple of minutes before something else occurred to Pidge. "I'll disappear when they come in." He wasn't wholly accustomed to fighting alongside others; that seemed like an important tactical warning.

"…Makes sense," Vince acknowledged after a surprised blink. "You don't have an extra one of those suits, do you?"

Matter of fact he did. "It's on Earth, and it wouldn't fit you, but otherwise good idea."

Oh. Not that he'd expected otherwise, at all. "Thought it couldn't hurt to ask."

"Usually true…" Pidge was silenced by a loud clang against the bay hatch.

Here we go. Gulping, Vince raised his sidearm again. "So much for the hope they'd get them all."

Another clang echoed over them as the ninja gave a small grin. "They wouldn't take all the fun."

Oh, right, I'm with a crazy Baltan ninja. With a few more loud crashes, the edges of the hatch started to glow, and he felt all his muscles tense at once. Thank goodness I'm with a crazy Baltan ninja…

With a shriek of protest, the hatch twisted and fell free, and before the metal had even clattered to the ground Vince squeezed the trigger as fast as he could. Repeatedly. He might have been a little panicked. But it worked; the Drule in the lead went down in a hail of glowing plasma, thoroughly perforated. Behind her, a second one sighted on Vince and he swallowed hard, trying to shift his aim, certain it wouldn't be fast enough—

—The invader went down out of nowhere, blood spurting from its neck. A knife seemed to appear there a moment later, caught on a bit of armor and abandoned by the invisible ninja who'd put it there to begin with.

One Drule remained, pushing the bodies of the other two out of the way before they could even finish falling. This one, too, focused on Vince, who took a shot but his shaking hands missed badly. Crap, be careful, don't hit Pidge! As the enemy's rifle came up he stepped back, gulping, not sure what else to do except… Believe in the ninja.

A dark blur coalesced in front of the third Drule and dropped an elbow straight into his guts. "Mechka, get clear!" With no choice but to have left his knife behind he threw a punch instead, catching the Drule off guard but taking one to his chest in return. With what little breath it left him he cursed, then glanced back at the engine shafts.

Only one option, really.

Vince had run for it as ordered, ducking down shaft four and using the heavy door for cover. The thought of backing Pidge up came and went—or more accurately, it came but he couldn't get a safe shot away as the invader and the ninja grappled. Pidge was darting around the Drule, drawing him back to another of the engine shafts without giving him time to use his rifle, but the lack of complete freedom of movement was forcing him to take some nasty hits to do it…

Snarling something in Drakure, the Drule abandoned his rifle entirely and drew a short combat knife, slashing quick enough to catch even the Baltan by surprise. The strike caught him on the shoulder and ripped through his sleeve, cutting ballistic cloth and nanowiring and spitting out a couple of sparks as active currents were cut off.

"Salys sa kye…" He didn't bother testing the extent of the damage; the cut was shallow, but the damage was serious. Stealth mode was no longer an option.

Having apparently never cut a chameleon suit before, the Drule himself seemed briefly stunned. He might've taken a small jolt through the knife; not a Vince spark, but it would do. It gave Pidge enough time to grab his wrist and get some leverage, forcing the weapon free and driving him down the third engine shaft, following up to press the advantage while he had it. They traded blows all the way down the main shaft, approaching the hatch to the drive core, currently open since the propulsion systems were off.

There was only one way for this to end. Pidge knew it; he wondered if the Drule did as well. Either way he ducked beneath a punch and jumped up under the invader's guard, landing a solid crescent kick into his chest that sent him staggering back into the drive core.

Slamming the manual override, he closed the hatch, but the Drule managed to slam into it and prevent it from sealing. Mijtairra! Pidge backed up against the door, pushing with all his strength; not enough. The hatch was designed to be sensitive to physical impact precisely to prevent things like this from happening…

Nothing to be done for it. "Vince! Test fire engine 3!" Without a seal the safety overrides wouldn't allow it to go for long, but they didn't need long.

Scrambling out of shaft 4, doing his best not to think about exactly what was going to happen, Vince hit the test fire button on the engine 3 panel and held his breath.

Behind Pidge, there was a deafening whoosh of flame, a surge of scorching air from the edges of the hatch, and the seal engaged as the resistance behind it abruptly ceased.

"…Mijtairra sa kye." Stumbling back up the engine shaft, Pidge dropped to the floor and took a moment to regain his breath. Another few seconds and he was certain he wouldn't have been able to hold that door.

Vince just stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine… nice work."

"Any more of them, you think?"

The ninja's gaze went to the ruined entry hatch. "If there are, we'll see them coming. Get ready for round two." Vince stared at him in disbelief. "…You can hide in the engine shafts if you need to."

"No…" What would happen when the adrenaline faded was anyone's guess, but for the moment Vince was doing okay. 'Okay' being a very relative term, defined pretty much as not sparking violently or completely dissolving into panic, but that was about where their standards had to be right now. "Just, I was never ready for round one. For the record."

"…Oh."

*****

Things on the bridge were no less tense. Cam was staring at the door to the bridge worriedly; he'd been pretty much motionless since he locked it. "You think it's going to get bad, Daniel?"

The gunner shrugged. "We'll be fine."

"I hope everyone will be…"

They always had been so far. "I'm sure we're winning."

"I sure as hell hope so." Cam checked his gun again, for at least the dozenth time. He'd rather have been out there fighting with the commander and the others, but he understood that holding the bridge was one of the most important things…

"Here's the bridge!" someone outside snarled in Drakure. "Get it open!"

…And it was on. Dropping back behind his console Cam peeked around, aiming for the hatch. On the opposite side of the bridge Daniel did the same, making a face as more Drakure came from the corridor. "Well that's disconcerting."

"Shhh. Element of surprise and all that, they might not know we're in here…"

"No, I'm sure they think we left the bridge completely unguarded."

Before Cam could respond to that, several loud blasts sounded outside the door, shaking the hatch; the locking mechanism sparked and shut down. "Now, pry it open! We will have victory!"

"Not on our watch, bastards…"

"Fuck." Daniel didn't understand any of that, given he didn't speak Drakure or Russian, but the point got across just fine. He tensed as the door cracked open, adjusting his aim.

The hatch swung open and a Drule charged in, firing a laser pistol blindly; the blasts were soaked harmlessly by the fractal glass of the main viewscreen. "Surrender, Earthlings! We have you outnumbe—" In the middle of speaking he swept his gaze around the room, focusing on Daniel, who ended up looking him right in the eye as he took aim and fired. The invader went down with holes scorched through his chest and shoulder, eyes still wide.

Cam's shots rang out a split second after Daniel's, the crack of his bullets drowning out the sizzling plasma. The second Drule to breach the bridge took those, one grazing her arm and spinning her around, the next two hitting her spine. Neither got through her armor, but she went down anyway with a howl of pain.

Both the kids froze for a moment, Daniel staring at the one he'd killed, Cam stepping back and shaking his head to stave off a wave of adrenaline-fueled dizziness. Neither of them grasped the third enemy entering until it was very nearly too late. It was only when Daniel caught the glint of a rifle barrel that he turned and fired again, some reflex briefly overriding the heaviness in the pit of his stomach. The enemy got one shot off, the laser flashing just over Cam's shoulder, his aim spoiled by the plasma scorching his arm and his chest.

Then he fell, and everything went silent.

"Th… thanks," Cam whispered, shaking his head to try to clear it. He hadn't expected it all to be so fast. Less than thirty seconds had passed since the invaders forced the hatch, and it was already over, and they were already dead, and he knew if it hadn't been for Daniel he would've been with them.

He was busy trying to get his own wits back, and didn't notice Daniel staring at the last Drule. "Uh." Blood was pooling around them, strangely mesmerizing, absolutely freaking him out. Finally he managed to tear his gaze away, looking at the first one he'd killed again before managing to look up again. More could show up any moment. "We've gotta close the door," he said weakly. "They're in the way."

Coming up around his console, Cam managed a nod. "We've gotta… yeah. The door. Come on." He moved to the Drule he'd shot and dragged her out of the doorway. Not that he particularly wanted her locked on the bridge with them, but options were in short supply here. "Weird… they're warm."

Pulling on the other one blocking the doorway, Daniel had noticed that too. A little too acutely. "Well they were just alive, and now they're not," he said as casually as he could. "Makes sense." Clearing the doorway, he moved up and closed the hatch, playing a bit with the broken lock mechanism until it clicked.

"Oh. Yeah…" Cam fell back against the door and slid down it. "Thanks for the save. I hope we never have to do that again."

Yeah, it's just you hoping that. Daniel snorted. "We should probably get back to our hiding spots. For cover." His eyes flicked to the blood that had pooled around the hatch. "We definitely won't have the element of surprise if more make it up here."

"Yeah. Good idea." His roommate stood again, gingerly avoiding the blood. "Thanks again, bud." He didn't acknowledge that; he really wished Cam would just stop thanking him. As usual when he wanted Cam to shut up, he didn't. "I owe you one—"

"—Please be quiet."

Blinking, Cam nodded and fell silent, retreating back behind his console. And once again they waited.

*****

Lance stepped over the two Drules he'd just shot—one with each Axel—and looked up at his companions. Keith and Sven had both holstered their sidearms in favor of melee combat, their sword and axe both stained with dark blue blood. Deck one was pretty well infested, but they'd cleared all but one of the exits from the cargo bay. "Alright, Team Medieval, let's keep doing this."

Smirking at the name—he liked it—Sven started down the corridor alongside Keith, who just shook his head. Lance trailed just behind them with his guns at the ready, staying alert for any sign of movement.

The sign wasn't really that hard to find, given one of the Drules was trying to force the elevator at the last airlock open. He wasn't having any luck. Poking his head around the edge of the alcove, he was yanked back by his patrol partner not an instant too soon.

Sven's axe cut through empty air where there'd been a Drule half a second before. "Kufot!" I can't start missing with this, too! He ducked back around the corner as a flurry of laser fire erupted from the alcove.

"Fuck!" Lance did not duck back around the corner; he returned fire, though right now the attackers had better cover and his shots just clanged off the bulkheads.

"Lance!" Keith heard footsteps behind them and spun. They were making enough of a racket here to get unwanted attention, that was for sure. As one Drule rounded the corner behind them he charged, dropping to his knees and sliding along the floor, taking her off guard enough to get in close and slice through her armor.

Their pilot had retreated when he yelled, unable to get a clear shot at the new arrival, not that he'd needed to. "Shit. Nice move."

"Gotta have each other's backs." The commander got back to his feet, eyes narrowing as he heard more footsteps pounding from further down the corridor. "We've got to clear them out, though. Ideas?"

Sven and Lance exchanged looks, then the navigator shrugged. "Go get whoever's behind us first?"

"Works for me. Come on."

"So we're heading towards the footsteps," Lance asked in a tone that was half about clarification and half about snark.

"Got a better idea?"

"Not really. And we are a fucking Explorer Team."

"They won't expect it," Sven pointed out—assuming they got moving before the enemy reached the corner first, at least. "We can use that."

"Exactly." Keith sprinted forward and cleared the corner, seeing one Drule right in front of him and thrusting with Raiden at a long enough range to actually lose his grip. It worked though, the blade parting ballistic armor as though it wasn't there, driving straight through the invader's stomach and dropping her to the floor.

Sven rounded the corner just behind him and swung his axe at the next Drule. This time he didn't miss, slicing straight through his neck, very nearly taking his head clean off. A brief flicker of disappointment ran through him; he knew actually decapitating someone was much more difficult than it was made out to be, but he'd always kind of wanted to know if he could pull it off.

Saying that out loud would probably get him weird looks; actually he was already getting one of those from Lance, though it probably had more to do with how much blood he'd just sent everywhere. He was definitely going to need a shower.

"Ew."

No time for anything else. The two behind them had broken cover as they moved away, and Lance spun to meet the attack. The first one opened fire, grazing him a couple of times before he put a bullet straight through one glowing eye. The second tried to shoot too, but there was a click as he squeezed the trigger. Growling, he lunged and spun Lance around, smacking him in the face with the rifle.

Keith jumped up and retrieved his sword as Lance swore, kicking the Drule in the stomach and getting off a quick shot into his thigh. Before the invader could recover he had a sword through the back, and Keith was smirking slightly as he went down. "That was not very noble of me."

"Fuck noble, boss."

"Slightly immoral."

"All's fair in love and war, or something, right?"

His response was a bloodcurdling shriek in Drakure from behind him, and he froze up as one last Drule came charging around the corner. Sven took a swing, knocking the new attacker's rifle away, but it wasn't though; he seized Keith by the throat and yelled in Drakure again, squeezing hard as Lance moved to try to get an angle. There wasn't one, and his vision was swimming, and out of other options he twisted and slammed his elbow hard into the enemy's guts.

With a slight gurgle, he lost just enough strength to loosen his grip, giving Keith the chance to tear free and throw himself to the floor. Lance fired an instant later, both guns into the Drule's face at damn near point blank range.

"…Teamwork makes the dream work," Sven commented as the invader went down.

Lance offered Keith a hand up, but was glaring at their resident Viking as he did so. "Really?"

"Am I wrong?"

"That is so beside the fucking point."

"Come on." Keith let Lance help him up, then flicked some blood from his sword and turned. "We need to find out about the others."

"Yes sir."

Keith snorted. "We can drop the sir here, Sven, I think it's about time…" This was certainly not a formal situation.

Sven just stared at him, and then Flynn's voice came over the comms. "Kogane, deck two is clear."

Lance breathed a slight sigh of relief as Keith nodded. "Deck one halls are clear. What now?"

"We have to get those bastards' ship off our ship," Lance growled.

Sven frowned. "How do we go about doing that?"

"We've got an idea," Hunk offered. "Seal up all the internal airlocks and open the bay, oughta kick 'em right off us."

Keith considered that. "It sounds good. We'd have to stop them from just ramming us again, though… Kleid, can our weapons take that ship out?"

"Yes. Aim for the engine block and prioritize firing the Wolfpacks." It might be the first time the anti-capital missiles they'd installed just in case would actually be useful. Better late than never. "Pidge, Vince, you there?"

"Yessir. Engine bay is clear."

"Somehow…"

Flynn couldn't help a small smile at that. "Standby on the controls for the main cargo doors. Be ready to open on our order."

"Understood."

"Brennan, get on the guns. We're going to knock this ship off of us. Aim for the engines and blow it to hell."

"Yes sir!"

Keith blinked as he looked up from giving the order. "Did he just call me sir?"

"He did." Lance frowned. "Gonna have to talk to him about that." He still needed to have some words with the bossman about that mentor bullshit, but this was definitely not the time; he shot him a glare just daring him to comment.

Mercifully Flynn interrupted. "Kogane, can you clear the bay? We can manually seal the airlocks, but it won't do us much good if there's still Drules in there to shoot them back open." As he spoke he nodded to Hunk and Jace, who both ran off to start on the seals.

"We can do that." Keith motioned for Sven and Lance to follow, then opened the nearest airlock and raced in.

There were two Drules guarding the entry hole they'd made, in the middle of the cavernous cargo bay; they were standing back to back with two deflectors set up in front of them. Hunk's music was still blasting through the bay, and it seemed to actually be useful—Keith saw the Drule facing him yell something, but he couldn't hear it, and her companion didn't turn quickly.

Behind him, Lance took a shot, but it pinged off the deflector and off to the side. His next couple didn't fare much better. It got the attention of the guards, though, and he threw himself to the side as laser fire flashed through where he'd just been. It was enough of a distraction for Sven and Keith to close the gap, and no deflectors were going to do anything for that; one went down beneath a stab from Keith's sword, the other from an axe to the chest.

"Team Medieval for the fucking win," Lance said with a grin as he holstered his guns.

Sven spun his axe around, grinning too. "This is fun."

"…You're fucking creepy sometimes, Viking." All that got him was a nod; the Viking could not really argue the point.

Jace had been listening in over the comms, and snorted. "Go be creepy in the fucking airlock, clearing the bay doesn't help if you just stand there when you're done."

Oh. Right. "Clear out!"

"Let's."

As they reached out and sealed the airlock behind them, Flynn watched the last status light go green on the control panel. "Pidge, Vince, now!"

"Uh…" Vince froze up. "What?"

"The bay doors, mechka!"

"OH." He yanked the control lever, sending violent shudders through the Bolt as the doors fought to open. Stressed metal squealed, the warped panels not able to fully withdraw, but it was more than enough for what they needed. With its seal broken, the Drule ship detached and started drifting away, its boarding cutter visibly damaged from the ejection.

Not that it would matter for more than a few seconds. Daniel took aim as the frigate drifted into his targeting arcs, eyes narrowed as he assigned all his focus to the task. He was more than a little grateful for the distraction, really. A full flight of missiles arced in at the Andura, the Wolfpacks punching through armor while the anti-fighter Interceptor missiles delivered some extra force and shrapnel to the exposed engine cores. A wave of flame tore through the engine block, then up the ship's spine, and then it was spinning violently away from them as one of the engines blew outright.

As the explosion's shockwave jostled the Bolt, just slightly, the whole team breathed a sigh of relief as one. It was over.

…Maybe.

*****

Jace slumped back against the last airlock he'd sealed, exhaling slowly. He really did not approve of whatever the fuck had just happened. "Okay, who needs a medic?"

"I'm all good, Jace. Kid, you okay?"

"…Yeah. Fine. We're fine."

"We're fine in the engine bay, Doctor."

His eyes narrowed at the responses. He knew these people. "Know what, fuck you people, I don't trust anyone here to know what the word 'fine' even means. I'm gonna do rounds."

Hunk chuckled, then became a little more serious. "So uh… what do we do now? Can't do hyperspace with a hole in the bay, yeah?"

"We can make a temporary patch from the inside. We'll need to leave the airlocks sealed." Flynn was heading back to the engine bay, already trying to calculate how long the patch job would take. "It'll be enough to get us to the nearest Alliance outpost."

"Alright." Keith was on his way to the bridge with Sven and Lance still flanking him. "Holgersson, you'll need to plot us to the nearest Alliance outpost ASAP."

"Already have one made out," Sven answered smugly. He had a lot of backup routes made.

"Good."

Entering the bridge, Keith paused at the dead bodies on the floor, wincing. Then he looked up at Daniel, who was pointedly not looking at those bodies, and Cam, who kept glancing between them and his console. "Good work keeping the bridge secure, you two." They both seemed okay, as best he could tell; next to him, Lance looked Daniel over and breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"I told you I was fine," the gunner grumbled.

"Got to check, don't I?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Daniel grabbed his comms. "Jace, Lance's face is bleeding."

"Is it?" Lance blinked, reaching up and touching where the Drule had rifle-whipped him. Sure enough, his fingers came away bloody. "Damn it, not the face!"

"Might improve it," the medic snorted. "I'm coming."

Keith had come up to Cam's station in the meantime. "Anything else out there?" This wasn't where he'd have chosen to be stranded and requiring a patch job, for certain…

"Just a lot of debris from the ship," their comms officer said quietly. He didn't sound especially confident in that report, and he wasn't, because something beyond the screen of debris was bothering him. The Bolt's sensors were trying to get a better fix, but… "…Der'mo. Sir, there's another ship out there."

Lance looked over. "What."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"You know he's no good at jokes!"

"I wish I was, sir." He'd gone very pale. "It's a Drule dreadnought."

Overhearing as he ran back into the engine bay, Flynn skidded to a halt, eyes wide. There were bodies. "Pidge, Vince, just imagine I'm saying something encouraging about whatever you did in here. No time." He reached the sensor console and stared. "Cevete."

"Salys sa kye…"

"Can we breach?" Keith asked, eyes on the screen as the massive vessel became clear. There were few other things that could cause anywhere near the visceral fear of watching a Drule dreadnought close in.

"No." There were some drawbacks to the Vagrant's being built around one very large open chamber, and those drawbacks had never been more clear. "The cargo bay is too badly compromised, the planar stresses would rip us in half."

Damn it. They would have to wing it, then. It was what they did best, and they had been disabled by pirates in Drule space. Maybe failing to protect their territory would shame them. "Ask for aid. See where it gets us."

Cam grimaced, and his expression didn't improve when the comms crackled. "Alliance vessel, this is Captain Dervul of the Scarborne Fist. Silence your engines, lower your shields, and explain yourselves."

Their engines hadn't even been firing, and they were certainly not going to lower their shields. Cam took a deep breath. "Scarborne Fist, this is the ACS Jupiter's Bolt. We were inbound to perform routine waypoint checks under the Deros Convention, but your station was unresponsive and we were attacked by pirates. We formally request assistance."

The Drule snorted. "The nerve of Earthling dishonor! Pirates? You attacked and slaughtered one of our patrol vessels, and now you dare to ask for aid?"

"Ex-fucking-scuse me?" Jace had arrived to the bridge just in time to hear that, and really wished he hadn't.

"Huh?"

"That's not good at all."

"Holy fuzzmuffins," Vince whispered, earning him a weak grin from Hunk.

"Think this might call for the whole 'holy fuckin' fuzzmuffins', little dude…"

"I… don't think we're getting help from them," Cam said quietly, still trying to wrap his brain around what he'd just heard; Daniel snorted.

"Really, Cam? They seem so welcoming."

"All of you be quiet," Keith ordered, moving up to take over the comms. "Captain Dervul, your ship attacked us, in blatant violation of the Deros Convention. We only defended ourselves."

The Drule considered that. "Can you prove this claim?"

"We have recordings." He gestured for Cam to pull up the comms archives as he spoke.

"Transmit them."

At a nod from the commander, Cam did as instructed, and a deafening silence filled the Bolt as they waited. The hair on the back of Lance's neck was standing up in a way it hadn't since… he wasn't even sure. "I have a fucking bad feeling, and it's getting worse every second."

He wasn't wrong.

"You were given an order by the system's owner, and disobeyed it. You are in the wrong. Surrender or be destroyed."

"The fuck?"

"What the kid said."

"I'm absolutely fucking certain that's not how the Deros Convention works," Flynn muttered under his breath; next to him Vince squeaked a little incoherently before managing words.

"Effing fuzzmuffins?"

Hunk shot him a thumbs-up.

Keith gritted his teeth and stared at the dreadnought in disbelief. "Your vessel was in the wrong. The order was unlawful, especially after we explicitly invoked the Convention."

"I don't think reason is gonna work here, boss…"

"I have not requested infantile excuses, Earthling. You will surrender by the time we reach weapons range, or you will be destroyed. Do you understand?"

"Fuck," Daniel murmured. "Fuckity fuck fuck."

Keith closed his eyes. "We can't escape. They won't honor the Convention… Cam, squawk panic." To 'squawk panic' was to deploy a short standardized distress call, designed more to be undetectable than to actually convey information. When it reached the Alliance it would automatically trigger a patrol to come investigate. It was all they could really do.

"Signal away, sir."

"Good." This was going to mean… something. What? It didn't matter. He didn't really know the political ramifications, and right now he had to focus on preserving his crew above all else. "Kleid, thoughts?"

Flynn drew a slow breath. He knew Kogane already knew the answer to this, he just wanted backup. Fair enough; that was part of his job. "Not-dead is preferable to dead," he said quietly. "If someone gets our signal and we're captives, we have a chance. If they get our signal and we've already been reduced to our component atoms, not so much." He eyed the dreadnought's approach vector; it was in no hurry. "And if we start now we have a little time to prepare."

"I'm for taking a chance," Lance agreed.

Pidge nodded. "The fact that they're giving us a chance to surrender after we destroyed their first ship is a good sign."

"HOW?" Vince's voice came out a little too loud.

"Usually they'd kill us out of spite and sort the politics out later."

"Oh." He blinked. "Crap. Now I do feel better."

Flynn looked between the two of them. "Pidge, go sneak whatever weapons you can into… however you ninja them into places. Vince, start wiping the systems back here. Hunk, be ready to lower shields."

Keith swept his gaze over the bridge and issued much the same instructions. "Cam, Sven, purge all records and databanks. Everyone, wipe your datapads. Sterilize this ship as best we can." As the team moved into action, he returned his focus to the comms and closed his eyes. The weight of command had never been heavier, but this was the only way… "Captain Dervul, we surrender."

"Ah, excellent, you've seen sense. We hereby graciously accept your surrender, Earthlings. You, and your vessel, are now the property of the Ninth Kingdom of the Drule Supremacy."

*****

Romelle was waiting outside the royal box, clutching her gaive'llar nervously while trying hard not to look too nervous. She'd never been to the arena before; was it used outside of the gladiatorial season? Perhaps she would ask later. For now, she straightened as Lotor approached.

"Are you ready, a'kuri?"

"I think so, sincline. Just a bit nervous."

He chuckled. "Imagine how nervous the gladiators are. Soon they will draw and shed blood for our glory."

That did not help, but she fought down the grimace. "Yes." She swallowed hard. "For honor and… glory."

"Precisely." A slave arrived from the royal box to fetch them, and he took her hand. "Come, it's time."

Romelle nodded, following, hoping he wouldn't notice her palm was a bit sweaty. He didn't seem to… as they emerged into the box, she gasped slightly. The arena was enormous; there had to be tens of thousands of spectators surrounding the arena floor, and right now nearly every one was staring at them.

"Prince Lotor and his a'kuri, Princess Romelle of Pollux!"

She startled slightly at the announcement, then plastered on a smile and followed Lotor across the box. The crowd was cheering. He waved somewhat halfheartedly; he'd much rather just get to the fights. Usually he came to the box last so he could skip the rest of the announcements. But his father had insisted he come in his proper place today, so the people could see Romelle… he really did still despise this courtship nonsense at times.

As they approached their seats he smiled, though; three others were standing in their path, waiting for them. Romelle paused a moment. Two were Drules, and the other was a hulking beast with gray skin, huge red eyes, and leathery wings. It looked more than a little bizarre in fine silks, especially when it grinned at her and revealed a mouthful of needle-like teeth.

"Ah." Lotor didn't seem at all fazed. "A'kuri, let me introduce you to some of my father's consorts: Prince Ta'lorr, Princess Axchiela, and Prince Domogathristes."

"…My lords and lady." She curtsied, fighting back a bit of confusion and a deep, dreadful certainty that she would never learn that name.

"An honor, Princess Romelle." Both the Drules bowed.

The alien stepped forward and spoke cheerfully in a voice that was high-pitched and almost childlike. "Such exciting to finally meet you, my lady!" He leaned over and kissed her hand, or at least, came the closest something with no lips could come to doing so. "Many wonderful things spoken of you! Enjoy the show, this season looks to be most exciting!"

A bright flush stole over Romelle's cheeks. "Um… nice to meet you too."

Bowing his head and fluttering his wings cheerfully, Domo… whoever… scurried back to the other consorts, leaving Lotor struggling to hold back his laughter. "Come, a'kuri, let's take our seats…"

She followed and sank into hers gratefully, then lowered her voice. "Um, what… species is the prince?"

No need to ask which prince. "Vrykora. Fearsome and clever, but… flighty."

"Flighty. Because of the wings?"

"That's certainly part of it…" He looked up and groaned as the steward stepped to the front of the box. "The ceremony is about to begin."

Nodding, Romelle leaned forward slightly. She had watched several battles with Lotor, but none of the ceremonial aspects, and was curious to see what they would be like.

"Friends and subjects of the Ninth Kingdom, welcome to the Grand Festival of Blood and Blade! Today, and all days, shall we honor the legacy of Zarvarith the Unifier, who brought the warring factions of the Drule Supremacy together through honorable combat and trials, erasing the weak and elevating the strong. Gladiators seeking freedom, redemption, glory, and immortality: you will bear witness to them all, and they will shed blood for the delight of all who behold!" From there the steward launched into a discussion of Zarvarith the Unifier and her deeds; Romelle listened with rapt attention. She knew of Zarvarith, and the historical basics, but as the announcer detailed battle after battle she found the games and their prominence making more and more sense…

Lotor was just struggling to stay awake. He'd heard this speech—this exact speech—nearly twenty times before, and did not understand how the steward managed to make the most glorious period in Drule history sound so boring. At least his a'kuri seemed riveted… as the steward finally finished, she looked up at him and smiled. "That was fascinating."

He chuckled. "I hoped you might feel that way. It's why I didn't explain it to you before… so you'd find that interminable recitation interesting."

"You've heard it a lot, then… it never changes?"

He shook his head. "Why would it? The history does not."

True enough. And she supposed it had been a bit dry, if one already knew the story. "Perhaps a different speaker, then? Someone who could bring it more to life?"

"If only." Again he shook his head, with a bit more resignation. "The last steward was worse." Her eyes widened.

Before she could say anything further about that, a loud blast on some kind of trumpet echoed over the arena. "And now, let the battles begin! For Zarvarith, for the Crown, and for the Supremacy!"

Romelle leaned further forward, watching with renewed fascination as several dozen Drules in what she took to be historical costume stepped out onto the arena floor. They arranged themselves into ranks, then charged in a flurry of war cries.

"The first battle of the season is always two teams of professional warriors," Lotor explained, anticipating her next question. "They reenact the ancient Battle of Naraku, and the victors are crowned the Avatars of Zarvarith for this season."

Nodding, she watched the battle, a maddening flurry of blades and blood. At times the teams formed back into ranks, presenting a unified front to their foes; other times the battle seemed to dissolve into a series of duels. Both sides were showing incredible skill, and both refused to go down without a spectacular struggle, but finally only one team was left standing…

A hush fell over the whole of the arena as King Zarkon stood and stepped forward. He raised his own gaive'llar, a heavy golden weapon that wasn't entirely un-sceptre-like. "Zarvarith the Unifier was a wise champion," he declared, "who spared her enemies when they showed the strength of the worthy. Warriors who fell to the blades of her avatars… you, too, have been deemed worthy!" He snapped the blade shut as the crowd roared.

Romelle let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Several medics arrived to the arena floor, carting off the wounded and the dead, assisting some of the victors to a special box. She was impressed by the efficiency they showed, really… it seemed like the Drules really did want to keep their gladiators in fighting shape, when they weren't ordering them dead.

As the crowd settled down the announcer stepped up again. "Our next battle shall feature a band of mighty gladiators from the slave world of Galtore! They fight for their freedom, and the right to venture to the stars as loyal warriors of the Ninth Kingdom. Against them stands the crew of the scout cruiser Moon's Grace, seeking honor for themselves and their vessel." The new teams stepped into the arena; the Galtorese were willowy canines with sharp sickle claws, while the crew of the Moon's Grace moved in perfectly disciplined unison. "Ready yourselves, gladiators! Blood and glory await!"

This battle was quick and brutal. The Galtorese were fierce and brave; their Drule opponents were wily and resilient. Though Lotor frowned slightly as it went on… they were almost too resilient. Some of the injuries were almost certainly feigned, they were falling too easily, only to jump up once their opponent's back was turned… but it wasn't enough. The team from the Moon's Grace fell, and he stood as the Galtorese looked up to the royal box.

Without a word, he raised his gaive'llar and signaled for execution.

Romelle's eyes widened; she wanted to look away, but somehow couldn't tear her eyes from the display of savagery as the victors methodically executed their foes. Lotor returned to his seat and she looked at him with another wordless question.

"Those who forfeit their honor deserve no mercy," he said grimly.

Nodding her understanding—at least she somewhat understood—Romelle sank back a bit. "That was… intense."

He chuckled. "This is only the second battle of the first day. You will see feats of intensity you can't yet imagine."

She had very little doubt of that…

It proved more than true enough in the next several battles, with Zarkon and his consorts and Lotor taking judgment in no discernible pattern. At one point, Lotor jumped up to judge a second in a row: a particularly brutal battle with the victorious team consisted of a single warrior still able to stand, and her just barely. This time he signaled for mercy, again wordlessly. He didn't like speeches. The blade said all that was needed.

Though Romelle was still trying to sort things out. "You spared the losers?"

"They fought valiantly," he explained with a nod. "A single stroke of the blade could have made the difference between their victory and defeat. They will heal and remember how close they came—and we will have another glorious battle to watch because of it."

She mulled that over, considering the meaning of the games, and nodded slowly. "I can see how you would enjoy another battle by them." As the next teams arrived she mused, "It's almost like a deadly dance, isn't it?"

"Very much like that." He smiled, baring his fangs. "Are you enjoying it?"

'Enjoying' was perhaps not the word she'd have chosen, but she was at least coming to appreciate it, she supposed. "They are… terrifying, but I am gaining some insight…"

"Good." He kissed her cheek. "And not a moment too soon. The last battle is coming up… watch this one carefully, a'kuri. Their fate will lie in your hands."

Oh. She adjusted her grip on her gaive'llar and bit her lower lip in concentration. Already? Nodding, she watched two new teams of Drules filing in. It would be up to her…

The sound of blades and shouts of pain and ferocity filled the arena, the teams going nearly blow for blow. At one point she noted one trying to retreat from the battle, watching from the fringes as his teammates fought honorably. Whether he we trying to exercise some strategy or simply spare himself the brunt of the battle, she couldn't guess at… but either way, when the opponents caught sight of him they fell on him mercilessly, leaving him bloodied and broken on the arena floor. His teammates seemed shocked, and she watched more carefully as they fought to recover, but soon they had all fallen.

Standing, swallowing hard, she looked at King Zarkon. He looked back to her and nodded. The crowd hushed as she stepped up to the front of the box, looking down at the fighters who watched her with silent anticipation.

Honor… what honor was there in slaying the defeated, really? Unless their crimes were great, especially considering what she'd seen. Nodding slowly, she held her weapon up for them to see… and snapped the blade shut, laying the closed gaive'llar on the railing of the royal box.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Blushing, she retreated to her own seat, and the blush only became brighter as Lotor smiled in greeting. "Very well done, a'kuri." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "What did you see?"

"I saw one fight with dishonor," she said quietly, "but he had already perished for it, and the rest of his team showed great courage. I didn't feel that it would be right to see them all killed for the mistake of the one… and this way they can fight again, to regain whatever honor he cost them."

Lotor seemed very pleased with her reasoning. "A wise and well-considered choice." She blushed again, smiling back at him, pleased to have made the right call. Perhaps she would truly understand this, in time…

The three of Zarkon's consorts came over as the announcer dismissed the crowds, immediately launching into gossip about the battles. And to her own surprise, she found herself joining in.

*****

What now passed for the Arusian war council was a motley assortment, to be sure. Allura and Larmina were there, as royalty, though neither was exactly experienced in the art of planning out a military campaign. Coran, as both royal advisor and a former Golden Knight; the shelter had little else in the way of knights anymore, anyway. Miralna was there more for her experience facing the Drules in pitched battle than on her own status, while High Priest Teynn was there to lend priests of the Radiant Warrior to the effort. Captains Randel, Sarial, and Sherion rounded out the group: they represented two units of castle guards and the depleted Dolce Vita militia.

It wasn't the army anyone would have chosen, but Arus had run out of choices a long time ago. This was what they had.

They'd started by poring over the notes Allura had made from the space mice's report. "You received these last night, yes?"

She nodded. "Another came this morning. The enemy movements have been like this for the last two days." Handing over another paper, she continued. "It does appear that they feel Arus has been fully pacified. Of course… I understand that if we retake the castle, they're almost certain to come back harder than they struck at first."

"Which is why it will be most important to make sure any Drules off of Arus don't know." Randel frowned. "That would buy us time to seek aid and reinforce our defenses, and restock the shelters in case of the worst."

"Let’s keep the intel flowing as we gather our numbers. If I am correct, we have these points," Sarial was pointing on a crude map, "to re-enter the castle. If the guards keep to this routine, these key areas should offer the best spots to strike."

"How many technicians do we have left? They could be critical in hacking the Drule systems and keeping the ruse going."

"Very few, but if we can crack their systems we won't need many…"

"Princess," Coran spoke quietly as the others plotted. "Is this something you really want to do now?"

Looking at Coran, she nodded slowly. "I know it is dangerous. But we can’t remain underground forever. We need to fight back. If we don’t, we'll never have a chance at freedom again. We've lost too much hiding here; the key to our freedom is above ground."

Coran thought about it, then nodded in understanding. She was right. They needed to return to the surface somehow. To give the people hope, if nothing else. And… he thought of the lion in the mountains, then looked at Allura again. Was there more to the castle than he knew?

It didn't matter, ultimately. The plan was beginning to take shape. And with a little bit of luck, it might even work.

*****

*Whew… this last week’s been a really long year, huh? Stay safe and take care out there!