(On the Hunt) Chapter 45

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 45

Try to Breathe

For the first few seconds after entering the jumpgate, everything was silent. Then Lance broke the stillness with a long sigh, rolling his shoulders; that had been some damn tense flying. Again.

"Alright. Everyone report to the bridge." Keith forced himself not to pace this time. Calling them all up here wasn't necessary, and there really wasn't room, but… it felt wrong not to gather the team right now. He gave the trio from the engine bay time to arrive and get situated before speaking again. "How's everyone holding up?"

Everyone immediately gave him annoyed looks.

"…I meant with the learning curve of the ship," he clarified. That was not entirely the truth. Better to pretend it had been than try to force the issue of anything else, though.

"Damage from the fight at the jumpgate is significant," Pidge reported quietly.

Lance smirked. "I think I was flying her beautifully, as usual."

"We're on course." Sven had not really needed to specify that, given they were in a jumpgate, but it made him feel better.

"Wishing I could see infrared," Vince muttered, "but alright."

Hunk and Daniel just shrugged. The engines were firing and the shooty-station could shoot; there wasn't much new to report.

Keith studied them, decided it was the best he was going to get, and sighed. "Alright." He kept saying that, and things were anything but alright. But it felt steadying, and right now they needed any illusion of steadiness they could get. "We're buying ourselves some time, but the Ninth won't give up on chasing us, and when we exit the jumpgate they'll be able to pick up our trail. We need options for our next move. Ideas?"

Kill them all. That was too unrealistic for even Lance to voice, but hell if he didn't want it. "None you'd like."

Keith eyed him. I probably wouldn't.

"We need to hope our theory with this jumpgate is correct. Another battle like that and we will have trouble." Pidge's voice was even more emotionless than usual; Vince looked at him and tried to decide if he envied that or not. "Though if we aren't aiming for a jumpgate we can return to metaspace much more quickly, kir sa tye?"

"Yes," Sven confirmed. "I'll have the calculations ready when we exit."

Their commander nodded. "Good. In the long term, though… they're going to be looking for this ship, and we already almost have a hole in the hull. I'm thinking we need something more anonymous. And less fragile."

Blank looks greeted him. "So we need to get another ship?" Lance finally echoed, trying to be sure he'd heard correctly. That sounded only slightly more attainable than killing all the Drules.

"I think we should, yes. It would be safer."

"Dudes, I've barely figured out the bay on this one," Hunk protested, though without a lot of conviction—and even less when Pidge turned to glare at him. "But eh, whatever we gotta do, yeah?"

"So what are we saying here, exactly?" Lance asked, crossing his arms. "We're going to pop out in the Seventh and go to the Drule used car lot?"

Pidge frowned even more. "Should we have a Drule ship at all, if we're heading into Alliance territory?" It was not the official policy of the Alliance to shoot first and ask questions later, but some localities were more aggressive than others.

"That is a concern," Keith acknowledged, "but we may have to take what we can get." The how was still the larger issue, but maybe if they came up with a where they could also find a how. "Sven, any planets on the border near our exit point?"

"There are lots of planets near our exit point." He probably meant useful planets, but that wasn't what he'd said. "I'm unaware of any being a 'used car lot'. We have Chrakoth, Zaw, Doreq, Aliet…"

Lance perked up. "Well fuck, we can go to a used car lot. Doreq is a trade post."

"Yeah?" Hunk brightened too, then hesitated. "Wait, cars ain't gonna help us. Except to be fun." That got a couple of snickers, as well as a confused look from Romelle, who had absolutely no idea what a used car lot even was but didn't feel it was the appropriate time to ask.

"Ca…" Keith winced and looked away. "Dammit. Okay, what else do we know about Doreq, anyone?"

"All I know is it's one of their free trade hubs—they'll let in any merchant who wants to sell stuff. Even the Alliance, if you can get there in one piece." Lance had always wanted to do a free trade run into the Seventh. Not like this, though. "They've got all sorts of things… maybe ships? Maybe even non-Drule ships."

Technically, he knew damn well there would be plenty of non-Drule ships at Doreq. Acquiring one was the trick, and the boss wasn't gonna like it.

"The Seventh is known to be friendly to independent traders," Pidge agreed, nodding slowly. "Comparatively speaking."

"If by 'independent traders' you mean smugglers and pirates," Romelle murmured. She'd heard rumors. Many rumors.

Lance shrugged. "Well yeah, it's probably Mos Eisley, but…" A pause. "That'll mean nothing to any of you but Hunk, but anyway."

"We just left a wretched hive of scum and villainy, bro."

"Fucking yeah."

Daniel looked indignantly between them. "You two aren't the only ones who watched Star Wars!"

"…Sorry, kid."

The princess was looking bewildered again. Keith stepped in to rescue her. "The Seventh is known to be pretty scrupulous about having legitimate dealings. It's doubtful they support pirates on any large scale."

Sven nodded. "I've heard they support both legitimate and illegitimate traders, but not pirates."

"Which doesn't stop pirates from existing in their territory," Pidge pointed out. It had been something of an idle observation; there was no sense in getting complacent. But it got some looks from the others as the obvious possibility sank in.

It was the one Lance had already been thinking of. "Maybe we should play pirate again?"

Keith opened his mouth, then shut it. Somehow, he felt like he'd known that was coming… of course he had. This was still an Explorer Team. This was still his Explorer Team. "Really?"

"We are in a very Ninth Kingdom-y ship," Hunk pointed out, looking around the bridge. "It could work."

"We can use that, but there is the language barrier…" Not even their ninja was quite callous enough to say we don't have a comms officer anymore in so many words. Flynn would not approve.

That was rapidly becoming a mantra.

Lance eyed Daniel; there was a bit too much not talking about Cam going on right now. The kid actually looked more irritated than sad… maybe that was easier.

Keith had looked to Romelle. Gods, when did command get so hard? If they were going to do this—and of course they were going to do this, they were going to do whatever it took—there was only one choice. "Princess, can we rely on your help again?"

Blushing, Romelle nodded. Like them, she really only had one choice. "Of course… but I must ask one thing." The decision she'd made back in the engine bay was only solidifying. "Please, stop calling me Princess."

He stared at her for a few moments, but who was he to argue with it? "We can do that. Anything else?"

Nobody raised any concerns; Hunk gave a huge grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Maybe halfway there. "We've got a pirate not-really-princess, it really is Star Wars!"

"It sure is," Lance laughed.

Romelle blushed harder and smiled shyly at Hunk; she had very little idea what he was talking about, but he seemed to be trying to help. Pidge was much less amused, growling under his breath. "Would you shut up."

"Nope!" The grin went up to about seventy percent. Vince shook his head slightly; he'd have liked things between his fellow engineers to be a little less like that.

Rolling his eyes, Keith turned to the navigation console. "Alright, we have a plan. I want a course ready for Doreq as soon as we exit the jumpgate."

Sven, as was his habit, had started working while the others were bickering. "Already on it."

"Good." Their commander paused a moment. "Prin… Romelle. We'll need you at the communications console."

She nodded; Daniel bristled. He wasn't sure if it was her or Cam he was mad at, and ultimately decided it was both—one maybe a little more irrationally than the other, but really, who gave a fuck. But he didn't say anything.

Eyeing him warily, Lance found himself amazed and more than a bit worried. The kid really should not be controlling his mouth better than the ninja.

On which topic… Vince tried to fight a yawn and failed. It had been a long, long… how long had it even been? No wonder he was exhausted. Like it was just the time involved. Noting the yawn, Pidge looked to Keith. "Mechka needs rest, sir."

Vince attempted to scowl at him, though it only ended up as a blank stare. On one hand, the ninja was being an absolute pain. On the other hand, he really could use some rest.

"I can see that," Keith agreed, looking over the rest of the team. Every one of them was tired, of course. But their gunner's slightly glazed look was concerning him most; he'd noticed his increasing sluggishness during the skirmish, also. "I think Daniel might, too." It was most likely the painkillers, but his injury alone was reason enough to give him a break. "Is there anywhere for them to rest?"

"There's a couple beds off that little corridor between the bridge and the bay," Hunk volunteered. "Ain't much." Apparently Drule recon cutters did not spare a whole lot of space on amenities.

"It'll be better than nothing."

It didn't take any actual chief engineer skills for the big man to nod his agreement. In fact it might've been his lack of said skills… he really needed Vince to back him up. "Let the kids crash. We're gonna need 'em."

"I won't argue," Vince sighed, looking at his hands. "I've been exhausted since…" Like he really needed to specify.

Daniel didn't argue either, thought it was taking more and more effort; he was glaring and trying to decide if it was actually worth the mental energy. He was drained and hurting, on one hand. On the other, he was pretty sure Keith was trying to put him down for a fucking nap—

"Alright. If that's everything… dismissed."

—Well, that cut off his decision-making process. Finally he opted to acquiesce and leave, so he wouldn't have to argue, but not actually sleep. Disobedience without the mental exertion! Perfect.

Watching his people disperse, Keith slowly exhaled. It had been non-stop since the escape. People could only take so much. They all needed rest… they all needed a hell of a lot more than rest. For now, a plan would have to do.

*****

Lance had gone after Daniel not long after the dismissal; that was probably for the best. Keith glanced towards Romelle, who seemed to be familiarizing herself with the comms. He was unsure himself how he felt seeing her at that station, and now was not the time to analyze those feelings…

There was something else he needed to do, in any case.

"Sven?" Keith moved to stand beside the navigator, who was double-checking their jumpgate status. Again. By this time it was more like quadruple-checking.

"Yes, sir." It seemed to take effort for him to pull himself away and respond.

Back to sir already, are we? Keith sighed. Maybe it was best for this to be a little more formal, anyway. "I… need you to do something for me."

"What do you need?" In actuality, the navigator would be happy to have something more to do. Burying himself in work to help ignore his feelings was all well and good, but it only worked if he had an abundance of work to bury himself in. Jumpgate travel required much less work than Alliance hyperspace travel, and he'd already done everything he could pre-calculate for Doreq.

And double checked it.

"I… we lost Kleid…" Never thought I would have to do this. "And you're the next senior officer here." Sven froze, realizing what was happening. This was not the kind of work that would help him ignore his feelings. "I know this is fairly abrupt, but under the circumstances… I need you as my second now."

"…Understood." It wasn't really a yes or no proposition; in their current situation, he didn't have much of a choice. There was nothing else to say. "Is that all, sir?"

Keith winced at his muted tone, but nodded. "Yes…" No it wasn't; he waved that lie off and sighed. "Are you alright?"

Sven stared at him for a moment, thinking about how best to deal with the question. He had no intention of having a heart to heart. Still, he didn't have to give a completely bullshit answer to avoid vomiting all his feelings up…

"No, but I'm functioning. You?" Maybe he shouldn't have asked that… it was only polite to reciprocate. Still, he wasn't sure he had the mental capacity to handle it if the commander did want to actually talk.

"Not in the slightest." Keith sighed. In the sudden stillness he found his thoughts tracking back to the Vesuvius, the incident there. He'd lost three men then, too. But it hadn't technically been on his watch. It had been three of a crew of hundreds, people he'd barely known. It had haunted him, for sure, but it hadn't been like this. "But we have to do what we have to do…" He could almost hear Flynn's voice saying that, but quickly shook it away.

"Hm." Sven truly wanted to empathize with him, he did, but he just couldn't. If he slipped into that mode, even for a moment, he wouldn't be functioning much longer.

But Keith was still trying. "Sven… I know you and Jace, I mean… I'm sorry."

Nodding silently, the navigator made sure to keep his face neutral. Glaring at his commander right after he finished giving him a promotion, no matter how unwanted, would be rude. Though hearing that name made him want to be rude.

I'm so proud of you, Viking.

He threw the thought aside with a small huff of frustration.

Keith spoke again when it became clear Sven wasn't going to. "If you need me to… I mean, if you're ever ready to… look, I'll listen if you need it."

"Noted, sir." Sven respected his commander's intentions, but was very much over this conversation.

That was finally getting across, and Keith retreated a little, then looked over at the communications console. He would've liked a bit of advice on that, but now was not the time to ask his new second if he was putting too much trust in Romelle. She was sitting right there.

"All right, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing."

Sven gave a muted nod. "Thank you, sir."

Quintuple-checking it was.

*****

Romelle had remained quietly sitting at the communications station, huddled into the loaned jacket. It was a comfort, really, though she wished there were some other clothes for her to change into. Like so many other things, that simply wasn't an option here.

Her rescuers—fellow escapees—were an odd mixture of souls, to be sure. While she greatly appreciated their manners and general willingness to let her be, the Earthlings were extremely strange. Of course, the trauma they'd been forced to endure could possibly account for that. But she had no idea what to expect from them beyond the immediate moment, and it was putting her even more on edge.

Would they abandon her once they got to Doreq? What would she do if they did? I can't go back to Korrinoth. Not an option. And I can't go home. They'll be watching for me…

Sighing, she looked around the bridge. Lance was following Daniel out and Keith was moving to speak quietly to Sven. She frowned, watching Lance leave. They did seem like brothers, though when she'd said as much, the two had given her the strangest looks. They still made her think of her own brothers, which… where were they now? What was happening on Pollux? What was going to happen now that she'd fled? Icy fear crept over her as the possible consequences of her impulsive escape finally began to sink in.

Gods, what have I done? She turned her head to the bulkhead, her hand covering her mouth and nose as she closed her eyes, tears silently trickling down her cheeks. Avok can defend himself, but Bandor… no! Don't think like that. Bandor will be fine. Avok will make sure of it.

Glancing up at Keith as he moved away from Sven, Romelle bit her lip as anxious new scenarios played out in her mind. These were obviously military men, stronger than her… they could do anything to her. What plans did they have?

No, no. You do have a weapon. She reached down to where her gaive'llar laid against her leg in its sheath, praying she wouldn't need to use it. They did seem like honorable men. Maybe they could help her seek asylum in Alliance space, if they survived that long…

Yes, that was an option. And right now, they needed her as much as she needed them. This was a mutually beneficial arrangement. But she couldn't help but fear what could happen if that changed… she swallowed hard.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

*****

The Cor'velon really was pretty much a bridge, tiny crew quarters, and engine bay shoved into the smallest package possible. There was nowhere to go for any semblance of privacy. Nowhere to go to escape the reality, even when things settled down and there was suddenly time to think.

Hunk really didn't want to think. More so than usual.

He was trying to keep an eye on both the other engineers. Not helpful. Vince was sleeping restlessly in one of the bunks, and Pidge was watching the systems console with a look that could only be described as empty. But that was only right, wasn't it? The bay itself seemed empty.

And it's yours now whether you want it or not.

He was still trying to fight that, trying so damn hard. It was too ridiculous. Flynn couldn't be gone, for all kinds of reasons—but especially because big dumb Hunk sure as hell couldn't take over the bay. Who could take him seriously? He didn't even take himself seriously.

But Flynn was gone. Flynn was dead. Which meant Hunk could fight it all he wanted, but he was still officially in charge of engineering. And as silence fell over the ship, it was starting to really sink in.

Fucking fuzzmuffins.

Okay. So you're gonna go be responsible and stuff now, right? Right! There's a ninja over there who's about a thousand miles away and sure as hell doesn't want your company, so go keep him company.

Hunk sighed. He was the one person in the bay who'd never been able to make any inroads with Pidge. Flynn had found such a strong connection, though he'd had to fight for it. And the ninja seemed to have genuine affection for Vince, though more often than not it came across like the affection you'd have for a cute pet.

Trying to deal with him and his attitude didn't sound fun at all. But he had to take charge somehow. The ninja was being an absolute pain in the ass, for one thing. Someone had to get him under control, and the someone with the job right now was him.

…And he was hurting. Of course he was hurting. They were supposed to be there for each other, and hell if he wouldn't at least try.

His mind was drifting to his brothers. That seemed to be a theme on the ship just now.

What would Damon do?

Slug him and offer dinner, duh. Don't do that.

Kenji?

Same, but with a football.

Akira?

…You know you're gonna go for the direct approach eventually, so you may as well stop thinking about it.

Hesitantly he approached; Pidge ignored him, eyes locked on the screen and staring somewhere past it. "Hey." He dared to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How're ya holding up?"

Pidge shook his hand off, turned, and gave him a look that could have frozen water in Death Valley. "Hull is holding. All systems are optimal."

"Didn't ask about the systems." It had been a deflection and they both knew it, but he wasn't going to give up quite that easily. "You'd raise holy hell if they weren't. I'm askin' about you."

"Go away."

"Dude, you're bein' a little terror right now. You know you're not actually gonna get left alone if you keep doin' that, yeah?"

Maybe that made an impact; Pidge hesitated a moment, eyes flickering away. "I'll try to behave better, sir. Now go away, please."

…Please?

Sir?!

Hunk supposed that was what they called 'progress', but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. "Okay, uh, I'll let you be for now, but can you not call me 'sir' again? Like, ever?" That did not get an answer beyond the usual sullen glare. He wasn't going to push it too hard; that was the last thing anyone needed right now, himself included. "And look, if you need someone to talk to…"

The ninja kept silently scowling until he backed off.

I tried.

Ain't gonna be the last time. It can't be.

It's enough for now.

He withdrew and checked on Vince—twitching, but still asleep—then retreated quickly from there too; Lance had turned up and was talking to Daniel, he didn't want to intrude. So he returned to his own station and leaned back against one of the engine shafts. There was nothing to do right now, and he didn't know how to deal with it. No music, no explosives, no critical hardware failures to concentrate on. Just remembering where they were and why.

Don't think…

He couldn't let himself think about the personal. He couldn't. Flynn's wry confidence, Jace's constant scowl, Cam's eagerness to please… they were gone and he couldn't change it. If he let himself keep thinking about them now, he would be useless.

I promise you guys. I'll mourn when it's safe.

Considering where they were actually headed right now, he wondered if he'd ever be able to keep that promise.

*****

Lance had followed Daniel pretty quickly after he and Vince went to lay down. He was positive there was no way Daniel was actually following Keith's suggestion to take a nap. And he was worried about him—he'd been through too much. They'd all been through too much.

Unsurprisingly, he found Daniel silently fuming and staring at the ceiling. "Hey, kid."

"Hey." He waved with his good arm.

Lance sat down on a stool or something, next to Daniel, and turned at the sound of Vince snoring on the other side of the room. "Got some nice music, huh?" he asked, going for a laugh.

It worked. "It's honestly kind of soothing," Daniel said with a grin, though the truth was it was all he had to distract him from the bloodsoaked hoodie he couldn't get off because of his arm.

"Kind of mundane, isn't it? Kind of a nice change…" He took a deep breath. It felt like he needed to ask about Cam, but he was terrified Daniel might bring up Flynn. He couldn't handle that—he just couldn't. Pushing down the panic from the thought, he pressed forward. "How's the arm?"

"It's inconvenient as fuck. Can't shoot right. Can't pilot. It fucking hurts, constantly. And it's making this fucking blood-soaked, disgusting hoodie impossible to get off."

Lance frowned. He shouldn't have to be in pain, he just shouldn't… and as he stared at the hoodie, it hit him like a punch that the blood was Jace's. Fuck, that hurts. "I can get you more painkillers if you want. But uh, first, want to get out of that thing?"

"I don't want any more fucking painkillers!" he shouted, trying real hard not to think about who the blood belonged to… but images of Jace dead on top of him flew into his mind against his wishes. Then it was Cam, claiming he owed him one. He pushed it down and looked at the missing sleeve of his hoodie. "…Yeah. This is trashed. I really liked it, too."

Shit, Jace saved him… Lance had caught the haunted look in his eyes, and looked down at his own jacket as a way to ground himself. It was thrashed up good, holes and blood. He cleared his throat and focused on right now, on Daniel. "Alright, this is probably gonna hurt. Ready?"

A nod. Lance pulled as fast but as gently as he could, wincing as Daniel whimpered despite obviously trying not to.

The relief was immediate as the hoodie came free… until he looked down and found the blood had seeped into his shirt as well. "Of fucking course," he laughed bitterly.

"Soon as we can, we'll get you new clothes." The promise felt laughable. How were they supposed to do that? Maybe there would be something on Doreq.

"Thanks," Daniel said tonelessly, unsure if he wanted to scream, rant, or go numb. All of the above, maybe.

Lance dropped the hoodie next to him and looked at his jacket again. It really was a mess. "I need a tanner, my baby needs a spruce-up."

"At least yours is fixable."

"I hope." I wish it was all fixable. "Are you… alright-ish?"

They stared at each other: Daniel unsure whether he should say he was fine or give in and tell the truth, Lance hoping—at least he thought he was hoping, or should hope—that the kid would tell him the truth.

"…Are you actually asking, or is this that stupid thing where people ask if you're alright and only wanna hear that you're fine?"

"If I ask you something I want the truth. If you're willing." Lance sighed. "I'll get it, though, if you don't have much to say…" I'm there too.

"Oh I got plenty to say. I'm just not sure I'll be able to stop if I start."

"I get that." Lance half-grinned. "Honestly, I don't want to talk at all about me. So, totally being a hypocrite right now." Remembering what Romelle had assumed about them, his grin became a little stronger. "But I'm meant to look out for ya, right? Like the princess said… you're my brother."

"Fits better than mentor, that's for sure…" Daniel smiled, then sighed. "I'm pretty shitty."

The mention of the M-word made Lance's smile brighten a little more, but it faded quickly as reality returned. "Yeah. I'm pretty shitty too."

"I'm pissed off. I feel disgusting. And not just because I'm covered in Jace's blood. Did you hear what Cam said? Before he ran off like a dumbass? I owe you. Like… what the fuck does that mean? Did he run off to be all sacrificial because he—in his stupid blonde head—he thought he owed me something? I mean, who puts that on someone? "I owe you" then runs off and dies for you, like WHAT THE FUCK? And I've been racking my brain to figure out what he even thought he owed me for. Wanna know what I came up with?"

Well fuck… but you asked for it, Lance. "I usually couldn't tell what goes… went on in Cam's head. You'd know better than me. Don't think he meant to put it all on you though, he took the boss's noble thing too much to heart…" That much he felt certain of, for all the good it probably did. "What did you come up with?"

"When those Drules boarded our ship and got onto the bridge, I shot a Drule that was running towards him. That's it. That was what he owed me. So fucking stupid." Daniel gave a humorless laugh that had a touch of hysteria woven in. Only a touch. "Wanna know something funny? I was so pissed Cam decided to go all noble and pay a debt he didn't fucking owe, and then Jace went and died saving me—fuck him, by the way. That was the shittiest moment of my life."

One of the biggest reliefs of mine… fuck, that's awful to feel. Lance looked at the hoodie, at Jace's blood, and at Daniel. "I'm glad Jace did… save you. I can't not be."

"I'm not." He felt sick.

"I know." Lance sighed, closing his eyes a moment. "Cam, he bought us time. We needed time. They were fucking stupid dicks for it, but I know, I know for sure Jace did the right thing. Cam too, maybe."

"I don't think I can… I can't… Buying time is a stupid reason to die!" Not even Daniel dared say Jace had died for a stupid reason too, not to Lance.

"Maybe. Maybe it was all stupid, but none of it should have been happening. It was fucking stupid and barbaric and shitty." It wasn't their fault they'd been put in that situation. "Both those bastards just did what they thought was right." He hoped he wasn't making it worse. He couldn't ever tell for sure, and their current situation was already the worst.

"Well I'm gonna stay mad at them for awhile longer. Okay?" Daniel made a face. If he couldn't stay mad he would go mad.

"I won't tell you not to, hell, I'm mad too. I'm angry as fuck, that's worked for me before. Will again." Flynn appeared in his mind and he clenched his jaw hard. Anger would get him through.

"Oh, and I know you're really committed to this whole 'big brother' role, but I swear to god, you ever try and die for me, I'll blow your brains out. And then my own because I can't fucking take any more people dying for me."

"You'll fucking what?" Lance demanded. Too damn soon. Actual terror had flown through him at the thought, and he wanted to yell but somehow managed not to. He's being dramatic. Right? He's being himself. "You better never blow your fucking brains out. I'll haunt your ass, even if you are dead."

Never going to tell you I won't die for you, kid.

"First off," Daniel raised his good hand and counted on his fingers, "dead me has a list of people to haunt, starting with Cam, former roommates, and my ex. I'll be too busy for you to haunt. And secondly, don't die for me and I won't have to."

"Kid, just stay alive and neither of us have to worry."

"Oh, and Keith, for trying to put me down for a nap," Daniel added to his haunt list instead of responding.

Lance laughed, happy for a better topic. "Yeah, what was that man thinking?"

"What's really irritating is that I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep knowing he told me to take a nap." Daniel sulked. He had principles he had to uphold.

"Yeah, that's a problem." Lance considered it. "What if I counter his order? Don't you dare sleep, Daniel." Daniel snorted. "I'm serious, you should stay wide awake. Lie down, stare at the ceiling, count Vince's snores."

"You realize you're like the one authority," Daniel put extra emphasis on the word specifically because he knew how much Lance hated it, "on this ship that I listen to, right?"

"I don't like to take total advantage," he smirked. "Though, if you're gonna put it that way, you really should try to get some sleep while you have the chance. We're not out of the rough water yet."

"Bullshit, remember that time you ordered me to use my brain? That's totally taking advantage." That had not been the point, but it couldn't go unsaid. "…But fine. I'll try." Daniel paused, wincing a little as he laid down. His arm was killing him. "I know I said I didn't want them, but is there any way you could nab me some painkillers?" The pain had finally reached the point where it outweighed his pride.

"Yeah, I'll go grab some."

"Thanks." Daniel gave a half smile. Maybe they'd even help him sleep? They'd fogged him up pretty badly last time.

Lance grabbed the bloodsoaked clothing and walked out of the room. He found a trash chute, but found he couldn't just toss the hoodie into it. He held it up and stared at the blood. "You fucking son of a bitch, making me do this. …Thank you for saving him." Probably saved me, too. He didn't want to think about where he'd be without Daniel to focus on either. Not after…

He was sharply aware he'd managed to avoid mentioning Flynn that whole conversation.

Lance sighed, steeled himself, and tossed the hoodie down the chute. Then he headed back to get Daniel the painkillers. At least one of them would actually be able to sleep sometime soon.

*****

Vince had passed out the second his head hit the crappy Drule pillow. His entire being felt exhausted, his body from the sparks and his mind from the trauma. He felt a sense of relief as he fell into darkness.

And then the darkness shifted.

Constellations burned bright above him. He was standing somewhere, in darkness, looking up—bright patterns standing out to him. Claiming him. Telling him he knew their secrets, yet they felt unfamiliar and wrong. Knowing and unknowing at the same time…

Like the sparks.

He blinked and abruptly knew he was dreaming. He'd been here before. He belonged here.

Staring at the constellations he felt both lost and found. It was never one or the other.

Vince sat upright, waking up fully, blinking and confused. That vision, no, that dream? This was the third time. That artifact, the ghost ship… he needed to tell…

Flynn.

He sighed and laid back down. The room felt eerily quiet. He felt alone. Turning toward Daniel, Vince saw he was out cold. Well he certainly wasn't going to wake him. What would he say, anyway? He had another weird vision? He was still so confused and lost about what he'd done in the arena…

He was terrified.

He wanted to know what the stars in his dream meant. It felt important. Would it give him answers if he found out? How was he supposed to figure it out? Disappointment and worry flooded through him. He'd never find out, would he? The two people who were helping him try to figure it out were gone.

Tears filled his eyes; he wiped at them and decided he had to try to get more sleep. Hopefully, he wouldn't dream about stars.

*****

Looking around the shadows of the forest near the castle, Governor Tarlok smiled in satisfaction. He could no longer hear the Arusians following him.

They had fallen into a pattern so quickly. He almost felt sorry for them. What hope had such primitive creatures really had against the one sent to rule them? It hadn't taken long for him to figure out their methods. The mercy of his captors had worked against them as well; they didn't even recognize a secret communicator when they saw one. He'd been able to claim it was a harmless display device carrying images of home, and they'd allowed him to keep it.

Fools.

The escape had gone almost flawlessly. He'd given his usual reports to his superiors, the agreed-upon assurances that all was well on Arus. As they moved him from his communications console to the room where they held him, he'd kept careful track of his location. There had been no doubt in his mind that he could overtake his guards… he just needed to be in the right place. Display device in hand, he had waited.

As he and his guards reached the point nearest to the front doors, he'd made his move. The advantage of surprise may have lasted mere moments, but it was enough to steal a sword and make quick work of one before bolting for the door.

The guards had been skilled enough; he would give them credit for responding swiftly, and their attempts to reclaim him had lacked any of their silly notions of mercy. Yet their aim was off. He'd only suffered some minor wounds to his legs, and a shot to his hand that held the sword, causing it to drop to the ground. While he certainly would've preferred not to lose the weapon, reaching the edge of the forest long before the Arusians made the issue meaningless.

Now he moved cautiously through the undergrowth, quickly becoming certain he'd lost them. He'd seen nothing resembling even a single path among the trees. With time to focus on less urgent matters, he stopped to attempt to dress his wounds with bits of his cloak. Once those were dealt with, he could report to the main fleet. It had long since moved on, but he had a friend there who could assist in pulling him off this planet. And then hell would rain down…

As he pulled his communicator out of his pocket and found it to be intact, a broad smile spread across his face. But almost as swiftly it dropped off as a low growl came from behind him. The sound of large paws padding through the brush… he hesitated, looking around, seeing golden eyes appear in the darkness. He didn't know what kind of beasts might exist within this forest. Their intent was clear, though, and once more Tarlok was running to escape.

This time he was less successful.

*****

Nearly every uninjured Arusian left to the castle had scoured the surrounding land for the governor. Hope had seemed to fade every passing moment; it wouldn't take much for him to ruin everything. The guards said he'd gone in the direction of the Forest of Altair. It took an existential threat to convince most people to enter that forest, but an existential threat this was…

Fear of the banewolves was not at all unwarranted, but right now it was perfectly clear whose side the beasts were on. That was what Larmina concluded as the gray banewolf handed her the communicator device, slightly broken, a severed blue hand still attached.

She'd decided it was best to just report back to the castle that she'd found his remains.

It wasn't exactly a report that inspired calm, but the searchers were relieved nonetheless. At least the governor had been dealt with. But that resolution came with the worry of how much time they still had on the surface. Without him to send false reports back, their ruse would be discovered eventually.

Was that even the only concern? Larmina looked at the device, eyes narrowed. Sure the Drule had said one thing, but it looked like the reality had been something else. Was this device what she feared it was? If so their time could be even more limited. They needed to know what he'd managed to transmit, if anything… she remembered what Danor had taught her, and nodded. "I just might be able to fix this."

While Allura was busy with calming people and preparing to move the castle's resources to the tunnels, Larmina snagged a few tools and sat away from most of the commotion. Cracking it open confirmed what she feared. It was a communicator. After a few pokes and careful adjustments, the device sprung to life.

"Aha! It lives. Now, you sinycka idiot, what have you been up to?"

Allura's ears perked up at Larmina's small outburst, and she approached. "Larmina… is that something that belonged to the governor?"

"Yes, Aunt—uh, Your Majesty" Larmina quickly corrected, noting she now seemed to have more of the Council's attention around her. It wasn't the time to get lectured on decorum. "I was able to fix it up, it's a communicator. I think I've found the transmission log…" She grimaced at the information that came up. "Looks like he did send a message just before escaping. Let me see what it says."

As Allura tried to calm those around her who jumped into panic mode, Larmina did her best to translate the message. Weak as her Drakure was, she was able to get the gist of it.

"It's to someone named Graktag, poor guy. He's offering a favor if they can come pull him off the planet… says he'll follow up with a time and location.'

One of the elders swallowed hard. "Then they are on their way! This was all a fool's attempt!"

"Shut—I mean, be quiet and let me read the reply," Larmina grumbled. "Graktag's not real thrilled with him. Says he has one local lunar cycle to check in again before he demands a bigger favor. And reports him for slacking off on his duties. Oooh, I think this is the Drule equivalent of don't make me come down there… sucks to be him." She looked at the blood staining the communicator and reconsidered that. It already sucked to be him.

"One lunar cycle…" Allura nodded grimly. "When was the last message sent and received, can you tell?"

"Looks like a few days ago."

"That is our time frame, then." Allura looked around, took a breath, and started barking orders in her most commanding tone; she couldn't let the Council panic. It would spread. "I want everything of value peeled from here. Once we have everything brought down, we'll seal all but a few tunnels." Several of those around her steeled themselves and nodded, scattering to begin their tasks. "Coran… I want to remain among the last to leave the castle. I'd like you to be with me."

Coran nodded. "There is more you think you may want?"

"We'll be erasing much of our presence here… but there may be something that may still be of great value. I want you to maintain an eye on the sky while I try to seek it out. It could be our last chance to find it."

"And when the Drules do return…?"

"We'll make our way to shelter when they arrive, no matter what. But until then we will not give up."

Coran gave a small smile. In this chaos, she was still seeking out hope. "I will see to the arrangements."

They'd known this was possible, even inevitable. It was time to trust their plans… and their princess.