(From Ashes) Chapter 20

Pride: From Ashes
            Chapter 20
            Friendly Conversations

Just south of the Arusian equator, the Akreyan Jungle was a dense strip of tropical forest that had been all but untouched for thousands of years. The reasons were as much tactical as ecological: with the jungle on one side and the Cyrha Sea on the other, what was left was a long strip of highly defensible coast. In days when attack from the ground had been more likely than from the stars, the southern kingdoms had built a grand fortress on that coast; after Arus' ancient unification, the Southguard Province had offered it up as the headquarters of the Golden Knights.

That had been all well and good until the Drules came and bombed everything, and of course the jungle had held up under that too—the Radiant Fortress was under enemy control, and all the jungle had to show for it was a handful of small clearings where orbital weapons had struck and fizzled out.

"Dry forest is better," Larmina grumbled, pushing her way through some slimy vines that seemed to want to grab her and pull her back into the trees. The Forest of Altair would never.

Daniel eyed her with a small smirk before pushing his own way through more undergrowth. He was feeling almost giddy. He'd missed this—the thrill of danger, the strong possibility that someone was going to shoot at him, the even stronger possibility that he was going to shoot them back. It felt almost like old times, before… well, before. Not to mention how they'd gotten here in the first place: he'd flown them! Almost a dozen militia had piled into the Falcon, and he had delivered them below any potential radar coverage to the southern continent's northeastern reaches.

It had been very impressive, if he did say so himself.

It turned out the lions, being huge brightly-colored cats and all, weren't very well suited for scouting; the limitations of Green Lion's cloaking system were untested, and the others? Forget it. So Captain Sarial had volunteered the militia for some good old-fashioned groundpounding. Reports put a lingering Drule presence at the fortress, and they were going to find out exactly what it was so the lions could deal with it appropriately.

It was not Sarial, however, who was accompanying the Common-speaking group. She was back on the far edge of the jungle, coordinating things. Instead it was Romelle, who'd originally gone along to provide comms and translation support, who had volunteered to join them on the ground… which had seemed like a good idea for about the first two minutes. Now she was creeping behind the other two with her gaive'llar out, nervously clenching and unclenching her grip as she wondered what she'd been thinking. Nothing on Pollux, Korrinoth, or afterwards had prepared her for picking her way through such dense foliage and stifling air, and they hadn't even found any enemies yet.

What would she do if they did? When they did? She'd only ever been in one real fight before, and that one she'd quite notably lost.

The thought sent a small shiver through her, and it just so happened to be at a moment when Larmina was looking back to check on her. One of the Arusian's eyebrows shot up instantly. "How are you cold?"

"Not cold." Romelle kept her voice down as much out of necessity as caution; the humidity was choking. "Just uncomfortable." She was very glad she'd left her jacket on the Falcon.

"Agreed." Daniel swatted at a large, loudly buzzing insect that Larmina had identified as a ramok; they seemed to be Arusian mosquitoes. "We're all uncomfortable. The bugs are fucking huge, I'm already sweating like it's a fucking sauna, and I see no Drules." He held up his gun and made a face. "It's like I brought this for nothing. Sure can't use it against these things." He swatted at another ramok in the process of biting his neck and grumbled under his breath, "Blood sucking dickbags."

"Should've brought a lizard to eat them," Larmina suggested, squeezing between a couple of fallen tree trunks and dodging a puddle of muck.

"And endanger my babies?" Daniel demanded. "Are you insane?"

She just stared at him blankly, long enough to be certain he and Romelle had gotten past the puddle safely. Then she shook her head and moved to a sturdy tree nearby, climbing up to one of the lower branches to get a better look around.

Offworlders…

"I don't see her bringing her scary banewolves," the gunner grumbled to himself as they waited. "And they'd probably be useful in this situation."

Romelle really had no idea what to say to that. "Now, don't go being mean to each other's pets…"

"I like lizards." Larmina hadn't heard Daniel, but she'd dropped out of the tree in time to hear Romelle, and smiled sweetly. "So do the banewolves."

Glare. "I'm gonna need you to keep your vicious man-killing carnivores away from my salalizards."

"They do what they want," she said with a shrug, then motioned to the tree she'd climbed. "Think we're getting close. Less leaves ahead."

That was something, probably. The undergrowth was also thinning out a bit, with the occasional cleanly severed branch sticking out, as if perhaps cut away by patrols.

Larmina was the first to notice the silence. She didn't know the sounds of the jungle, not the way she did in the forest. But she was acutely aware of when the sounds weren't. She'd just begun to slow down when Romelle recognized it too.

"Is it me, or did it get… really quiet?"

She'd whispered it, but Daniel shook his head and whispered even lower. "I know you're new to this but when things get quiet, you get quiet." Taking the lesson to heart, she simply blushed and nodded wordlessly as they continued creeping forward.

Silent movement was key now, and their pace slowed dramatically. And sure enough, it wasn't long before faint traces of Drakure filtered through the trees.

"I still hate this heat."

"I don't mind it. Though the next assignment where we sit around doing nothing for months, I wouldn't mind beaches instead of bugs."

"Agreed."

Didn't I just hear this conversation? Romelle wondered as the trio came to a halt. In fact, didn't I participate in it?

Daniel had something entirely different on his mind; he could tell what they were hearing wasn't Arusian. Which in itself was a level of knowledge he hadn't quite realized he had. Am I gonna have to learn Drule, too? Bleh.

"I'm very bad at Drakure," Larmina breathed at the same time, looking at Romelle. At least in Common she could form relatively complete sentences.

"Complaining about the heat and bugs," she whispered back, drawing a confused blink.

"…We can help?" she finally suggested, readying her staff; the bow slung over her back wouldn't do her much good in these confines.

"We can totally help," Daniel agreed, checking his gun. Hearing Drules made him that much more eager to shoot Drules. It had been too long since he'd shot a Drule.

They moved up slightly further, finding a large tree that looked like the sturdiest thing between them and the voices. Larmina tugged Romelle along with her, crouching between the roots; Daniel hung back to cover them. They had melee weapons, but his best fighting was at a distance.

As they moved, the voices abruptly ceased. For a few moments, the silence was complete. There were no footsteps, even… or were the Drules just that good at stealth? Aiming for where the voices had been last, Daniel tightened his grip on the trigger, as the other two held their breath.

"…I think I have a rock in my boot."

The other one's tone was exasperated. "Thank you for that vital piece of information."

"What else is there to talk about? Nothing ever happens."

"Yeah, you're right. Take another pass and head back?"

"Sure."

Romelle fought down a sigh of relief and whispered the translation of that last part to Larmina, who frowned. They had two jobs. One was to assess the state of the Radiant Fortress. The other was to remove any kind of perimeter warning system—be it automated sensors or actual foot patrols. Letting these two go on wasn't an option.

Reaching into her supply pouch, she withdrew a small matchflint, tossing it out to the side of the tree. There was a sharp snap as the device ignited. By the time it hit the ground, it had already fizzled out—because the jungle was wet and gross—but from the shouting in the distance, it had done its job.

"Gyau'ret—what the?"

"This is your fault! Who's there?!"

"It's not my fault, it's your fault." There was a pause, presumably waiting for an answer to the prior yell; they weren't going to get one, though Romelle had several things she'd like to have said. "Go check it out."

The other Drule huffed. "Me? Fine. Stay here. Like a whining coward."

No longer even daring to whisper, Romelle gestured with her gaive'llar, trying to get across that someone might be about to come around the tree. Larmina nodded and fell into a lower crouch—that had been the general idea. She just hoped Daniel actually knew how to use that gun.

The Drules were not, in fact, good at stealth at all. Or at least the one barreling his way towards them wasn't. She gave a sharp whistle just to be certain he knew where he was going, and the moment he came into view, she lunged and stabbed one end of the staff spear-like into his kneecap.

Romelle had been ready, she thought, to strike at an attacker. Her free hand was up before she knew it, going through motions she hadn't practiced in what felt like a very long time now, knocking the scout's gun arm away as he stumbled over Larmina with a startled yelp. But she didn't actually see the scout. She saw a Drule, alright; with a snarl she drove the gaive'llar forward, just the way that Drule had once shown her, driving the blade into his throat and ripping it out the side. Blood splattered over her face and he dropped with a gurgle.

His companion bellowed something unintelligible—Daniel just assumed it translated to OH DRULE SWEAR—and tried to take a shot. Not even close to fast enough. Aiming for the head, because center mass was boring, the gunner squeezed off a plasma burst that painted the jungle a pale purple-blue for a second. Then the Drule was down, and he turned to check on the others.

Larmina, too, was spinning around to follow up on whatever Romelle had done to their target. What she found was the Polluxian stabbing the downed body a few extra times for good measure. "…Guess you've got it under control." She jabbed the body with her staff too, just to be sure, then looked back at Daniel's target. "Nice shot."

"Thanks. Nice coordinated stabbing." He holstered his gun and approached just in time for Romelle to spit at the corpse in Drakure.

"May Kistrial find you… acceptable."

…Uh huh. Exchanging looks with Daniel, Larmina reached out and cautiously poked the other offworlder with the non-bloodied end of her staff. "Arus to distant cousin person…?"

It worked; Romelle snapped back to reality and spun around, panting a little. "Oh." She reached up and brushed a bit of blood out of her eyes. "Are you two alright?"

Larmina gave her a look.

"…Yes, Romelle." Daniel was giving her just about the same look. "We're great. Are you okay?"

She stared down at the fallen soldier, who really didn't look a thing like Lotor at all, and tried to fight down the adrenaline. "If he were only someone else, I would be great," she grumbled in Polluxian, then switched to Common again. "I'm… yes, for the moment."

Her companions exchanged glances again. Neither was going to question being eager to kill Drules, exactly…

"Okay then! Moving on."

"Wanna follow their tracks back to wherever they came from?"

"Good idea. Before more come."

They proceeded faster now, moving parallel to the Drule bootprints in the soft earth. It didn't seem like the patrol had gotten a message off, but there was no way to be sure. They had to at least get a look at what they'd come to investigate…

As they reached the tree line, it seemed safe to assume they hadn't been called in. And as they looked out at the complex ahead of them, it became equally clear they'd had no idea what they were really getting into.

The Radiant Fortress had looked better, Larmina assumed. There were jagged columns of metal-reinforced brick sticking out of the ground, and huge piles of similar brick that seemed to have been bulldozed to fill some gaps. Other gaps were blocked off by simple wire fencing that was definitely not Arusian in origin.

Also not Arusian were the dark, looming vehicles visible beyond the fence.

"Those are Drule ground assault tanks," Romelle whispered, and Larmina hissed several very colorful curses.

"This is what they called a small remaining presence?!"

Daniel looked from his gun to the nearest tank, then back to the gun. "I did not come prepared for tanks." They looked every bit an assault vehicle: each was easily the size of a small house, with heavy treads and thick armor and at least a dozen visible gun ports. He would not have wanted to tangle with even one of those things without a fighter and a bunch of missiles, at least… and he could see at least three of them.

"Left over from the invasion?" Romelle asked softly, though she didn't fully believe it. They looked well-maintained and recently used, and not like the kind of thing the conquerors would just leave lying around.

"Should look closer," Larmina whispered, clenching her fists so tight around her staff that the grip cord became painful.

Daniel looked at her, then back at the tanks again. Getting any closer felt idiotic and reckless; he smirked. "Yes, we should. Let's go."

Immediately the Arusian darted ahead, using the nearest pile of rubble for cover. Romelle hesitated and looked at Daniel again, biting her lip nervously. "Really?" This seemed like more than the average Explorer Team crazy.

Then again, with the things she'd seen them do…

The gunner just nodded. "Stay close, we'll be fine." Waving her along, he darted after Larmina; sucking in a long breath of the harsh jungle air, she followed.

A crevice between the rubble pile and a surviving wall stanchion provided a decent enough hiding spot, for now. They could see soldiers patrolling the formation grounds, and a few mechanics working on one tank. Beyond that, arrayed in front of a sea wall, were half a dozen winged craft of some sort.

Looking between a warily businesslike Larmina and a skittish, still bloody Romelle, Daniel was abruptly struck by the knowledge that he was the only one here with actual military training. Gross. "We need to try to figure out what they've got here."

Romelle had already been counting the tanks; she'd seen enough of Sven's thorough note-taking during the castle tour, it felt like a good idea. Larmina was focused on the winged craft.

"Those aren't tanks."

"Fighters," Romelle suggested, quickly returning to her count; Daniel shook his head.

"Those aren't fighters." He knew every Drule fighter the Alliance knew about, and a thing or two about general design principles. "Those are transports." …Had he just corrected someone's terminology? Oh god. He felt gross all over again, but what was he supposed to do? It was his area of expertise!

Larmina wrinkled her nose. "Seems worse." A fighter meant one sinycka with guns. A transport meant lots of sinycka with guns.

"The team isn't going to like this," Romelle murmured.

"I don't like it either!"

"Would be really bad if we weren't planning on coming back with giant magical robot cats." Daniel shook his head. "Alright look, let's at least figure out how many tanks—"

"Twenty-seven," Romelle said softly.

"—Nice, Romelle!"

She blushed, the lavender marks on her cheeks glowing faintly through the dark Drule blood. "I just watched Sven taking notes on everything before, figured I should apply what I'd learned?"

"Always do Sven things," Larmina agreed approvingly; Daniel snorted.

"Sven would be the one encouraging you to do math. Come on, let's get out of here."

With one last wary look at the fortress patrols, they disappeared back into the jungle.

*****

Shrouded by a screen of heavy ferns and tangled vines, the militia gathered in a small clearing created by the attacks. Two of the three scout teams had returned; Captain Sarial was not pleased by what either of them were reporting. All the time they'd spent gathering rumors and tracking down intel had told them nothing.

At least they'd had the sense to scout first, she supposed…

"Yo, boss lady!" She turned to see her third team picking their way through the last few shrubs; Daniel waved with his good arm. "There's a lot of tanks—"

"—Twenty-seven tanks," Larmina clarified in Arusian—

"—And some transports—"

"—Six of those—"

"—And a good amount of Drule soldiers."

"—Which we didn't count, but we're pretty sure of it."

Coming up behind them, Romelle stifled a giggle.

"What." Sarial closed her eyes and breathed slowly. "There are how many?" Opening her eyes again, her gaze fell on Romelle, who was still covered in Drule blood. "…Pol kivatka, what did you three do?!"

Several of her other soldiers looked a bit uncomfortable. Allendar, who was used to Larmina having freaky friends, just shrugged.

"We did what you said." Daniel dropped onto a tree stump and gave his splint a quick once-over. It seemed to have weathered the trip fine. "We scouted."

"We came across two Drule scouts," Romelle elaborated. Bored ones. "Lady Larmina and I did what was necessary to one while Daniel took care of the second."

"It's depressing how formal you're being right now," the gunner informed her; she blinked, uncertain what to say to that, and opted to say nothing at all.

Sarial didn't say anything either. She just reached into her supply pack and handed Romelle a towel, which the Polluxian accepted gratefully.

"How many stabs were 'necessary'?" Larmina whispered under her breath.

"Physically? Probably just the one," Daniel whispered back. "Emotionally? Probably more."

"…Sounds right." Maybe she should've jabbed the sinycka a few more times too.

Romelle rolled her eyes.

Looking around at her scouts, Sarial considered the news. All of the reports were consistent; only one group had actually gotten a count of the tanks, which given who was in that group didn't really surprise her. But what they'd found? It just didn't make any sense. There hadn't been a single tank around when they'd reclaimed the Castle of Lions, and this hardly seemed like the place the sinycka would build forces for a counterattack…

Thankfully, it was not the task of the militia to figure out what the Drules were thinking. They had people for that. Or at least, once she reported it in, she assumed someone would get on it.

"Militia reporting," she said flatly, activating her commset. "Drules are present in heavy force."

Several miles from the fortress and the jungle, Keith leaned forward in Black Lion's cockpit. He didn't want to admit he'd been anxious—they'd already agreed the militia's operation was best done under radio silence. But had he been anxious?

Obviously.

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Multiple heavy mechanized units—ground assault tanks, twenty-seven per one unit's report. Same unit reports six transport craft. Number of soldiers unclear but significant."

"Twenty-seven?!" The muffled voice and a dull thud came from the Falcon; Vince had fallen out of his seat. He'd come along to mind the engine bay, and had been left to watch the comms—at the news of twenty-seven Drule assault tanks in the area, he was suddenly less enthused about being alone.

"Shit." Lance's grip tightened on Red's control sticks, and the lion growled softly in his mind.

Pidge frowned. "Just sitting there not doing anything about the castle they lost control of?"

"That is odd," Sven agreed.

"Very odd." Keith immediately didn't like this. They'd known their intel was spotty, but…

Yes, exactly. "Should we grab a sinycka and ask?" Sarial offered. She was only being half sarcastic; it wasn't the worst option.

Daniel looked up and gave the comms a slightly reproachful look. "If capture was a secondary objective you should've said so."

Sigh. "All right, that's enough. This complicates things, and we need a plan." They had been expecting a minor infantry garrison, perhaps some static defenses. Something they could intimidate into a quick surrender, ideally. "Who knows about Drule ground assault tanks?"

"The Fourth's ain't a joke," Hunk offered. "Dunno if the Ninth has the same stuff."

"Similar," Pidge confirmed. "Not identical."

"We heard rumors of them being used to pacify the capital." That came from the last link in their makeshift comms network; Coran and Allura had another of the few portable sets, and were monitoring from the castle. "The Golden Knights' mechanized units were no match, though mechanized forces were never one of our strengths."

"They're big and scary-looking," Daniel volunteered from his tree stump. "Lots of guns."

None of that told him much in the way of specifics, but Keith considered it carefully. They had no idea how these lions measured up against, well… anything… and while he had to trust they could take down a bunch of ground vehicles, he didn't dare take it for granted. Black purred gently, both approving of his caution but also offering reassurance; he nodded his understanding of both. But there was another option, too, one they should at least consider.

"If they've left major military assets behind, we should consider whether to attempt capture rather than destroying them outright. Thoughts?"

"We should destroy them," Lance growled, barely loud enough to transmit.

Hunk sympathized with that, but it didn't seem practical. "Havin' stuff is better than not havin' stuff if we can swing it, yeah?"

"What would we do with tanks other than dismantle them for parts?" Pidge asked—though on second thought, that didn't sound like such a bad idea. Hunk wasn't wrong. Then there was the third thought. "What do they think they need with tanks?" Ground vehicles were not exactly known for their effectiveness as first-line planetary defense.

Sven grimaced. He'd been thinking that too, and especially with Coran's comment he was pretty sure he knew. "Population control."

Three languages worth of scattered profanity took over the comms for a moment. This was, without doubt, a problem that needed solving… and quickly.

"One of our scouting groups saw signs of resistance attacks against the base." Sarial frowned… well, she'd already been frowning, but now she was frowning deeper. "We should assume the fortress is on reasonably high alert."

"Understood." Probably safest to assume that anyway, now that she mentioned it. "We will still have the element of surprise here, though. If we can prevent enough troops from reaching the tanks or transports…"

"There are only five of us, sir," Pidge pointed out.

"We're in magic robot lions," Lance countered.

"Our ability to cover thirty-three enemy units is still limited."

"MAGIC LIONS."

"Perhaps we don't need to worry about capturing the tanks," Sven suggested. "Not destroying the transport ships is a much more attainable goal; fewer to secure, and it's unlikely they would be launched to fight us."

It did make sense… Keith frowned. More assets and more options would still help. "I think a distraction to pull the troops away from all the vehicles would be the best start. I don't think we'll get them all, but some would be better than none."

"Try to catch 'em all, but try harder on the transports?"

"We've got to try."

"We can create a distraction in the jungle," Sarial offered. "There's a large clearing that should be dry enough for a fire. And while I'd prefer not to risk my scouts in direct combat when there are," she cleared her throat slightly, "magic robot lions on their way, we can prevent the sinycka from taking cover here once you move in."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "I don't want her to put me at risk either." Larmina raised an eyebrow at him, and he flashed her a small smirk.

Lance spoke up as if he'd been summoned by name. "I like the kid not at risk."

"If anyone's going to be putting me at risk, it's gonna be me."

Larmina bit down a snicker, as the Red Lion pilot's sigh came across the comms loud and clear.

Rolling his eyes, Keith took up his best command tone. "All right. Captain, create that distraction. We're on our way."

*****

Coaxing flame from the jungle's humidity had taken some persistence and several heavy matchflints, but the militia was motivated. On the western end, Allendar's group had found a particularly large clearing where lush vegetation had been flash-dried and scorched by Drule lasers. Using it against the sinycka was a bit of poetic justice. Soon enough, they'd gotten a roaring fire started at the heart of the clearing, and smoke was beginning to drift into the sky.

"Distraction is a go."

"Roger that."

The lions had discussed some strategy of their own in the meantime, and Pidge counted down about thirty seconds before engaging Green's stealth. "Moving in, Commander." He pushed the lion as fast as she could go—or at least, as fast as she could go without him losing control—bearing down more on the jungle than the fortress. He was wary of overflying the base even for a moment. But he did manage to cut in at an angle where he could see what was going on, and it wasn't just a group of Drule soldiers rallying to investigate the distraction: at least two of the tanks were already rumbling to a start. "They're on the move," he reported, snapping a sensor image. "Going to ground."

The fire was easy enough to see from the sky, and he brought Green down behind it before disengaging stealth. It got him a jealous look from Daniel and a look that wasn't not a glare from Larmina; he ignored both and called up Green's tactical panel. Compared to the others, his lion lacked a bit in the way of raw firepower. What she had were options, which he personally preferred.

"I enjoy when we are in agreement," Green purred. "You want the second switch."

"Got it." With a sight lurch, a small electronic pod launched from Green's back cannon, streaking into the sky over the base. If it worked correctly—and everything else the lions had had worked so far—the fortress would be cut off from anything but ground communications. Keeping their presence from the rest of the Ninth Kingdom was still the main point of this mission. "Scrambler pod deployed."

"Understood, Pidge." Keith hadn't seen anything, but a moment later an auxiliary monitor crackled to life, displaying the still shot of the fortress grounds. That is so handy.

"It is indeed," Black agreed. Keith wondered if this was as exciting and nerve-wracking for the lions as it was for the rest of them…

His lion didn't say no.

The comms went silent then; in the castle, it was all Allura could do to stay still. They'd received the image too, and the Drule tanks were monstrous… and there were so many. Why? How? For this moment, it didn't matter. Again they placed their trust in the Great Lions; far greater threats than this would face Arus soon. They had to be triumphant.

Closing her eyes, she whispered a silent prayer as the comms crackled again.

"First sinycka have reached the jungle. All yours, lions."

"Finally," Lance breathed, dialing up the throttle even before Keith actually spoke the order.

"Engage."

"Time to make with the booms, bros!"

Three lions shot forward, Lance grudgingly keeping pace with Keith as Hunk lagged slightly behind. Pidge remained in the jungle; on the opposite side of the fortress, Sven and Blue were lurking beneath the water. Waiting.

It barely took a minute for the first trio of tanks to come into view, and Keith sighted in with narrowed eyes. "Ready, team? Let's play."

"Fuck yeah, about time these kittens had some fun."

"Time for less talk, more rock!" Even though he was a little further back than the others, Hunk was the first to open fire: Yellow's elemental cannon fired a column of sand at the nearest tank, hitting the ground well short of the vehicle but very much getting its attention. "…Aww, you mean the awesome sandblaster still has to worry about gravity?"

"The Earth reclaims all—"

"—NEVER MIND!"

Smirking, Lance armed Red's shoulder arrays, feeling the slight shudder through the hull as they deployed. One of the tanks managed to get some kind of anti-air gun aimed at him, spewing flak into the sky… but by the time the shrapnel reached where Red had been, he wasn't there anymore.

All the Drules saw was a blur of crimson overhead, then a series of cluster bombs raining from the sky. Flames sprouted over the ground, forcing two of the tanks to stop—the third was briefly set ablaze, ejecting a burning armor plate to save itself. Grinning, Lance circled around and hovered, snapping a shot with Red's tail beam directly into the unarmored section and coring through to the other side. Plasma vented out the vehicle's sides a moment later; apparently he'd gotten the engine.

"Fucking sweet," he crowed. Red seemed a little bemused, and maybe it was too early to be so excited, but fuck if it wasn't an awesome start.

Grinning, Keith oriented on one of the stopped tanks. There was a brief, echoing hum, then two metal slugs launched from Black Lion's wings in a wash of electromagnetic energy. One skipped off the tank's armor, leaving a person-sized dent behind, while the other hit a gun port and ripped straight through to detonate the weapon.

And its ammunition.

And, as sympathetic explosions raced through it, the rest of the tank for good measure.

The third of the tanks tried to return fire and flee at the same time, firing a battery of heavy lasers wide of Red Lion as a scattering of flak pellets bounced off Black's armor. Yellow landed, sighting through the smoke, and unleashed a second sandblast; this time it impacted cleanly. Most of the sand was blocked by the tank's armor and streamed to the ground, forming a small barrier. The rest penetrated every crack and seam in the vehicle, shredding circuits and connectors and reducing it to a rather fearsome-looking brick.

Lasers flashed out at them as a second cluster of tanks started to roll out of the base; they could hear the engines of others firing up, as well as see them on the lions' sensors. "Seems we have their full attention now," Keith noted, loosing another volley from his gauss rifles into the new lead vehicle.

"Unlucky for them, they have our attention." Lance smirked and blasted another with Red's lava cannon, sloughing armor off in sheets and leaving a glossy sheen of obsidian covering the molten hulk.

Hunk launched a plasma sphere, which missed the tank he'd been aiming for—not that it much mattered. The force of the explosion overturned the vehicle, sending it crashing into a pile of broken bricks. "They've got us right where we want 'em!"

By now the Drule infantry had seen more than enough. This was supposed to be an easy posting! They ran boring patrols, grumbled about bugs, and occasionally backed up the tanks when the conquered Arusians got too unruly. They were used to being the ultimate power on this planet. Seeing that power being so thoroughly overwhelmed, some gamely brought the fight with their rifles. More ran for the dubious safety of the jungle.

The militia was waiting.

Pidge could see the battle here unfolding; Green's bio scanners were sensitive enough to differentiate between plant life and people. A few of the Drules wisely surrendered, but most tried to shoot their way through as arrows and plasma bolts greeted them. Little he could do about that without endangering their allies, but the militia's greater expertise in guerilla tactics was clear to him even on a sensor screen. Then one of the tanks leaving the fortress rolled towards the jungle, rather than the attacking lions.

"Bad idea," he hissed, locking in on the target.

Green Lion pounced from the trees. The tank, deploying heavy cutting tools of some sort against the undergrowth, barely had time for a glimpse before the lion came down claws-first, piercing through armor and engine block and leaving a gutted shell behind.

At the same time, Sven had judged the tanks to be sufficiently out of his way, and Blue Lion sprang out of the water with a roar. Coming down between the transports and the battle, he did a quick scan for any remaining nearby threats. A pair of startled guards opened fire, which wasn't enough to even register on Blue's damage sensors; shaking his head, he swiped them aside with a light blow from her paw, and settled in to provide fire support.

Three lions had been bad enough; two more had clearly thrown the Drules into full panic. But they were still fighting. The assault tanks weren't agile, and not one even attempted to turn and face Blue at their back. Several did swing their main turrets around, firing with lasers that actually did register on her damage sensors. They might even have scratched her paint.

Did the lions actually have paint? This probably wasn't the time to ask.

Instead, Sven deployed his lion's missile launchers and selected for the cryogenic missiles, which he'd only been looking forward to trying out from the moment he learned they existed. A full spread arced towards the back of the Drule line, detonating in a wash of cold that briefly blurred the air around them; no fewer than four tanks were left frozen solid and rooted to the ground, while the missiles that hadn't been direct hits still left icy barricades and frozen weapon ports in their wake.

"These weapons," he declared to the cockpit, "are the coolest." Blue sighed.

"Indeed, Icehunter. That is what they're for."

The other lions had dispatched the second wave of tanks in the meantime; it had been no more difficult than the first. Fearsome as they might be against conventional forces, here the vehicles were simply outclassed. Keith glanced at his comms, uncertain whether he could find an open frequency with any kind of speed; his eyes were drawn to a particular setting on the dial, so he flipped it over. "You're all welcome to surrender, you know."

For a moment the battlefield was still. Either translating or considering the offer, presumably. Then the closest remaining tank fired a volley of cannon slugs directly into Black Lion's chest; he supposed that was his answer.

Fine.

He countered the shot with a full blast from Black's elemental cannon, and the column of lightning ripped through the lead tank with a sharp thunderclap. Tendrils of electricity scattered in all directions, reaching out to the other tanks: with them all clustered together at the main gates of the fortress, there wasn't much evasion to be done. Heavy plates popped free and systems shorted out, leaving two shut down completely while more than half the others had taken some damage.

"Whoa, boss, that was awesome."

Even Keith hadn't quite expected that. "You're telling me…"

"The Storm's power can be most impressive," Black agreed.

What he hadn't done was made the remaining Drules reconsider surrender. Instead the tanks charged forward in a fury, ramming aside the smoldering wrecks of their comrades and opening fire with everything they had.

Black and Yellow met the assault on the ground, while Green joined Red in the sky. Blue remained covering the transports, keeping the back of the Drule line locked down—literally. They'd given the enemy their chance. If it was a rout they wanted, they could have precisely what they'd delivered upon the Arusians.

Keith shrugged off several attacks as he charged directly for the tanks, grabbing the front of one in Black Lion's jaws and crunching through its armor like foil. Instinct brought his hand to the elemental cannon again; he'd have thought it was much too close to fire safely, if he'd stopped to think at all. Instead he slammed the trigger and poured electricity into the hapless vehicle, burning out every system at once and leaving another half-crumpled metal brick where a war machine had once been.

Hunk barreled forward as well, slashing left and right with Yellow's claws and launching a couple more plasma spheres over the lines. These came down on the frozen tanks, and then there simply weren't tanks there anymore. "Holy fuzzmuffins." Becoming aware of an attempt to flank him, he whipped around—he might not really be a pilot, and Yellow might be the slowest of the lions, but compared to these things he might as well have been Lance. Rather than try to sight in with anything ranged, he simply smashed the tank's main munitions bay in with the lion's tail hammer, and let hundreds of detonating high-explosive shells do the rest.

With Yellow's plasma mortar thinning out the herd, Sven took aim at the remaining frozen tanks. This time he selected for Blue's icebreaker missiles, which he knew to do exactly what they sounded like. A new barrage of sleek warheads sprang forward, zeroing in on the cold, piercing through the ice and the brittle armor beneath to savage the tanks' internal components.

The Drules were making an attempt to maneuver, to spread out, to do anything but provide a shooting gallery for angry metal cats. But they were proving to have about as much chance against the lions as civilians had ever had against, well, Drule assault tanks. Red Lion was patrolling the edges of the battlefield, launching more cluster bombs to keep the blue bastards on their toes, making sure any tank that might successfully break away didn't go far. Or those who didn't break away, for that matter…

"Yeehaw!" Lance yelled out over the open frequency, blasting a tank Keith had swiped out of formation with another lava burst. "How do you fuckers like it?"

For a moment, his eyes darted back to the empty seat behind him. He hadn't had much time to ask about it, let alone raise the question to the others. But he felt certain someone in particular should be back there mocking his yeehaws.

A couple of the militia had moved out of the jungle, trying to support the lions by taking out any remaining ground forces. One of the tanks took note of it, and several soldiers actually jumped out with their sidearms as if to ensure they would at least get one or two kills from this losing battle.

Pidge was not inclined to let them have that. "Captain, keep your people in the trees!" He heard a yell in Arusian in the background of the comms, and saw the militia retreat; as soon as they were clear he launched another of Green's tactical pods. This one exploded into a field of razor-sharp shrapnel, messily removing the infantry as a threat and making the rest think twice—perhaps three times—about leaving the shelter of the tank. Not that the tank was going to do them much good either. Lasers and shells scattered over Green Lion, and she shuddered a bit in the air, but it wasn't enough. Pidge answered with a volley of plasma that outright severed the vehicle in two.

The last tank standing as the lions whittled down their opponents managed to line up its primary turret with a stationary Yellow Lion. Hunk had been finishing up with one of the others, and didn't even see it in time as half a dozen lasers and a heavy mass driver slammed hard into his flank… and the lion didn't even budge an inch. Giving a low whistle of admiration, he called up a better damage display to be certain.

Not a scratch.

Rolling his eyes as Hunk admired his lion's armor rather than shooting back, Pidge snapped Green Lion's tail blades at the tank. Waves of flame, lightning, and missiles impacted moments later, and the vehicle was simply no more.

The lions held the field.

"I think that's all of them," Keith said after double checking his sensors. "Captain, it's your turn." The militia would secure the transports and begin to scout the complex… or at least that was the plan.

Sarial stepped out from the jungle, quickly taking stock of her people. Some cuts, some bruises, and one nasty burn—nothing in comparison to what they'd inflicted on the stunned sinycka. "Jeiro's group, secure any survivors. Allendar's and Larmina's groups with me." With that she started to dart between ruined tank hulks, wary of the intense heat—and cold—still radiating from them.

The Great Lions were a hell of a thing, really.

As Sarial and her people were approaching, Sven caught a glimpse of motion at the edge of his viewscreen. Someone sneaking along the side of one of the fortress structures… he frowned, zooming in. It wasn't a Drule. It appeared to be an Arusian—a red-haired man in fancier dress than any they'd seen so far, and they worked with the planet's actual princess.

"That's not weird at all," he murmured, talking only to himself and Blue. "We should probably go offer assistance? He looks like he needs help."

She purred, clearly amused. "He does indeed."

Clambering over a few fallen bricks that had not been there prior to the battle, the Arusian in question was barely staying on his feet. All that really kept him upright was that the alternative seemed worse. Monsters about, Golden Gods protect me… he reached the other side of the pile and looked over his shoulder, breathing a small sigh of relief as the four metal beasts still seemed occupied.

Then the fifth one dropped from the sky directly in front of him, and he yelped and fell back into the dirt. "Golden Ones!" He tried to crawl backwards—which did him very little good, there were bricks there—as the blue monster tilted its head quizzically down at him.

Blue Lion leaping with a purpose was enough to draw everyone else's attention. The other lions turned, and Sarial sprinted forward with her rifle raised, ready to kill once more today if necessary. Perhaps it wouldn't be, of course—she yelled the only Drakure she knew as she charged. "Stay still, drop your weapons, and raise your—" The command was cut off as she came around the rubble and saw who she was shouting at. "…You're not a sinycka."

He stared at her blankly; he wasn't wholly certain he'd expected to see an Arusian either. Though really, whatever she was didn't change his current mood. Absolute disaster.

"Who is this dude?" Lance asked, moving Red to get a better look.

"Looks like someone important," Keith suggested; as if he knew any more.

"What's going on? Is everything alright?" That was Allura, who had been nervous but reasonably confident as the sounds of battle came from the comms. She'd barely had time to cheer word of the tanks being eliminated when… well, something else was apparently happening.

Was everything alright? Hell if Keith knew. "Someone was trying to escape the fortress, it appears. Looks like the Captain has it under control…"

"Define under control," Sarial retorted over the comms, and Keith couldn't help but crack a faint smile. She kept her rifle leveled as the others caught up, and handed the commset off to Romelle; keeping the others in the loop would likely be helpful here.

Catching a glimpse of the stranger, Larmina skidded to a halt, blinking. You've got to be kidding. If that was who she thought he was… well, first, she was somehow unsurprised to see him in this position. Second, if she got too close she might murder him. Accidentally.

She quietly ducked behind Romelle and Daniel. Safer that way.

"Captain, do you need anything more from me? Or do you have it," Sven unsuccessfully tried to bite back a chuckle, "under control."

She shot a mild glower at Blue Lion in response, which was probably fair.

"Fair? I did nothing to deserve that ire."

"Maintain looking frightening, if you would," the captain finally grumbled, then returned her attention to the stranger. "Who are you and where were you going?" On one hand, she could understand him being nervous around the demonstrated destructive power of mysterious rainbow felines. On the other, the twenty-seven smoldering Drule tanks made it pretty clear whose side they were on.

"…I am Lord Byrom Del Seva, Duke of the Derevan Reaches." He tried to regain his composure, pointing to the lions. "Who and what are these?"

Daniel immediately disliked this guy; he couldn't understand the words, but he could tell the dude was pointing and talking all accusatory towards his team's lions. Shifty Arusian dude was not allowed to do that. Only he was allowed to do that.

…Ah, wonderful. Sarial lowered her rifle—bad form to aim an active gun at a duke, and all—if that was indeed what he was. Knowing every branch of the provincial nobility was not among her hobbies, but the Derevan Reaches were a long way from here. "Those are the Great Lions who just liberated this holding, and you, from the sinycka. You might thank them."

"Always a fan of a thank you," Lance agreed once Romelle translated.

Hunk chuckled. "Always thank your magic lion robots!"

"Great Lions…?" Del Seva looked around wildly, biting his lip to stop himself from cursing. That didn't tell him anything. "Well… I am… much in debt, yes. My… thanks." He stood and tried to straighten his tunic; obviously regaining his composure was going to take a bit more effort. Glancing at those accompanying his questioner, he noticed they were in fact not all Arusian. One looked like an Earth-person—odd place for one of those—and was that a Polluxian…?

"Keith wants to know if he was a prisoner," the Polluxian was relaying, and he managed not to make a face.

"He's dressed a bit too… richly to seem like a prisoner, in my mind," Keith murmured. He wasn't the only one.

"I'm getting shady vibes."

"I concur with Lance."

Sarial nodded, whispering back to Romelle, "Ask the Princess if she's heard of him." She still wasn't entirely sure she bought any of his story, but they wouldn't get anywhere without more questions. "Were you imprisoned? Who was in charge here?"

"I… was in… talks, with the occupiers and their liaison," he said with a frown. "I know not who was in charge. But I was doing what was needed to protect my people."

…Right. She exchanged skeptical looks with Romelle. Shining Sage, grant me patience… or Radiant Warrior, grant me something heavy falling on his head right now. Sadly, the second of those prayers went unanswered. "And were there others in these talks that we should be looking to liberate?"

"If there were others, I was not privy to their presence." Del Seva shook his head. "I should be returning to my province, now that the talks have… fallen through. Or is there somewhere else I am meant to be going?" It wasn't hard to read the mood.

Not one bit suspicious. Romelle translated the new information over the comms, then added, "Princess, do you know of a Lord Byrom Del Seva?"

"He's real," Larmina muttered under her breath.

Allura frowned. Something about that name was tugging at her memory, and she didn't think it was all positive, but she couldn't place it for certain. "He sounds familiar. I would need to consult my council, they may know more."

She may get to consult him. Sarial glanced back at the lions. Their objective was to secure this facility, and she for one wouldn't call it secured without some more answers. The presence of the tanks at all, and now this… something wasn't adding up. "Yes, Lord Del Seva, I believe you'll be needing to make a detour of some sort. You must have crucial information about the sinycka, surely."

He shifted uneasily. "I may… perhaps know some small things of use?"

"This dude is shady," Lance reiterated, narrowing his eyes at the viewscreen. The last time he'd seen someone with vibes this shady, it had been a literal snake.

"He sounds very suspicious, I agree." Keith lowered Black's head to look a little bit closer, and the noble jumped. "I think we should take him back to the castle, and quickly."

"This isn't a good place for an interrogation," Pidge agreed. "But we need to learn how and why so many Drules were here before we leave the fortress alone, kir sa tye?"

"I'm with the ninja."

"Hmm. It's a good point."

"Could send him back for Princess and Mustache Dude to chat with while we poke around here some ourselves, yeah?"

"Oh, hell yeah. I want to poke."

"We certainly would like to ask Lord Del Seva some questions."

"If that means I'm not stuck on the Falcon alone anymore, please."

Sarial nodded slowly in response to the comms chatter. "None of my scouts are particularly good with Drakure." Romelle returned the nod, understanding. "We could take this… fortunately liberated prisoner back with us now, while you with the lions stay to search."

"All right." Keith didn't want to waste any time, if that was the plan. "Captain, take Mr. Del Seva into protective custody, and take him and whatever Drule prisoners you secured back to answer some questions. We'll stay here to do some investigating."

The captain nodded. She assumed, being nobility after all, that Del Seva spoke Common and had understood every bit of that. But she switched to Arusian anyway. "You'll need to come with us, it's hardly secure here. No place for someone of your importance to remain."

Of all the indignity and insults. "If I must… I will follow."

As Allendar's scout group started to escort Del Seva away, Daniel stared up at the lions, focusing on Red. He still really wanted some answers. He also really wanted to stay and poke around the awesome reconquered fortress. But was he going to pass up flying the Falcon back to the castle? Hell no. He just wanted a moment to let the jealousy wash over him first—

Larmina poked him. "Can I watch you fly? Seems cool." She really just didn't want to be on a ship with their new prisoner, and especially not in the same room. But watching someone fly the ship really might be cool, too.

"Yeah," he agreed, tearing his eyes from the lion. "You can take my gunner's seat, even. Just don't blow anything up that I wouldn't blow up."

She grinned.

*****

It was Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Romelle who ultimately gathered to explore the fortress. Leaving the lions unattended was not an option—leaving the transports unguarded seemed even less wise, given a Drule straggler could probably actually do something about the transports. With the lions it was more the principle of the thing, but Sven and Hunk were remaining on guard duty either way.

Given a little time to marshal their thoughts, what they'd encountered here made simultaneously more and less sense. Of course the Drules hadn't really left few enough forces for the ragtag remnants of the Castle of Lions to reclaim the entire planet. But then why, why, wouldn't they have made a move since?

With luck, Del Seva or even the captured soldiers would have answers when questioned. With more luck, the fortress would have answers, and they wouldn't have to rely on such questioning at all.

"Alright. We should start with what's most likely to tell us something." Keith stepped up a little closer to Romelle, who was still in charge of the commset. "Princess, any idea how we can tell which of these buildings might be a command center?"

Allura had been to the Radiant Fortress a couple of times, accompanying her father on royal tours. "The primary headquarters was the northernmost building, nearest the barracks. The main door should have a golden winged crest." She glanced at Coran, who nodded; he'd been there rather more recently, but the princess' memory was sound.

"Got it. Thank you."

"Golden wings, fancy."

Yellow Lion was pacing around the perimeter of the fortress; Hunk paused just long enough to sing quietly. "Take these golden wings, and learn to fly a lion and blow up some thiiings…" Yellow growled in confusion, Pidge and Romelle exchanged bemused shrugs, and Lance snorted.

"Alright, alright. Let's go find this headquarters." Valiantly not facepalming, somehow, Keith led the ground team north.

"That it up ahead?" Lance frowned as a large door in what seemed like a comparatively small structure came into view. "I think I see blood on the door."

"Yeah, that's… ominous."

"Surprised there isn't more of that around here." Pidge couldn't help noting the blood was red; it wasn't Drule. He wondered how many of the Arusian soldiers who'd first belonged here had died here, and how many had made it out to die fighting.

The headquarters building was indeed not large—at least, not compared to what looked like the barracks just to the east, and a massive half-collapsed structure that might once have been a vehicle bay to the west. The attackers might have been better off not blowing that one up, in retrospect. Oh well. Readying their weapons, the ground team opened the door to find…

Absolutely nothing.

"Well that's not fucking creepy at all," Lance muttered, staring at the deserted entryway. There were bloodstains here, too; apparently interior decoration hadn't been big on the list of priorities after the Drules moved in. Or maybe they thought that was decoration.

"Not creepy? Looks creepy from out here, bro." Hunk could see a little bit if he zoomed in, and at the least it sure didn't look fun.

"I don't know," Sven brought Blue over beside him, "we've been in creeper scenarios." To his own surprise, he was finding himself much happier to not be exploring a potentially dangerous enemy command center. Or perhaps he was just really enjoying that his lion had air conditioning; the others looked uncomfortably sweaty already.

"It's creepy. It's a ghost fortress." Lance waved to the lions behind them, then followed Keith into the building. "…Romelle, we don't need to know about any actual ghosts, please and thanks."

She shrugged. "You wouldn't be able to see them anyway." So far she hadn't seen anything, but she would be rather surprised if that continued.

Ghosts or no ghosts, the command building did not get significantly less creepy as they proceeded. The lights were still on, and they found a small mess hall of sorts with food still on a few plates. Keith shook his head. "Looks like they dropped everything to run out and fight when we showed up."

"Didn't help them any," Pidge observed.

Circling around to one of the entrances, Lance found what looked like a perfectly good rifle on the floor and picked it up, tilting his head. "Literally everything, someone probably regretted dropping this."

"Also wouldn't have helped them any."

"Touché." He slung the rifle over his back and shook his head. He hated this part—walking through the wreckage of people's lives. Had the command center looked like this after the Drules attacked? Had the Arusians dropped everything to fight, and had nothing to show for it?

Romelle trailed at the back of the group as they continued on. "What are we hoping to find?" she asked quietly, keeping her grip tight on her gaive'llar.

"I don't know exactly." Keith frowned thoughtfully. "Support staff, mostly? There couldn't have been only Drule soldiers and Del Seva at this facility." But the corridors remained deserted for a bit longer.

Then Pidge poked his head around a corner and stopped short, hissing a few Baltan curses. "Found some."

A pair of Drules were sprawled face-down in the hallway, blood still pooling around them. Both had been shot in the back. Keith came around and studied them, frowning at their clothes—it wasn't any kind of armor he'd seen before. Indeed, given the position they were in, it didn't seem like armor at all. "What kind of uniforms are those?"

"Administrative aides," Romelle answered quietly; she remembered meeting a few in similar uniform after the fleet's wargames. "They handle the military paperwork, I believe?"

"That might be the first thing that's made sense here yet," Keith muttered.

Lance circled the bodies and took note of the location of the bullet holes, snorting. "Shady dude is a coward." Which wasn't the side he'd have expected to come down on, but somehow, bravely shooting a couple of pencil-pushers in the back before sneaking out didn't feel like an argument in the guy's favor.

"We can't assume Del Seva did this… can we?"

"I don't know, shady guy, two Drules shot in the back? I'm just doing math."

"I don't think that's math," Pidge observed, then gave the bodies another once-over himself. "Not wrong, but not math."

"You sound like—" Lance shut his mouth. "…Come on, let's keep going."

Keith nodded. "We could cover this place faster if we split up, but we've only got the one comm unit." Not to mention the risk if there were living soldiers in here somewhere, though he was starting to have his doubts. "We need to keep moving if we're going to finish the job."

A few more minutes of checking through hallways and side rooms brought them to a corridor that sloped underground. Romelle stopped at the first door and tilted her head; the others readied their weapons, and she held up a hand for calm. "It says supply cupboard," she explained quietly, trying the door.

A few narrow shelves of writing supplies greeted them: stacks of the pale beige silicate sheets Drules used for paper, pouches of pigment not unlike what they'd been given in the dungeons on Korrinoth, and several types of pen. "Hey Sven," Lance called out with a smirk, "we found map making central in here."

That got their navigator's attention immediately. The bit of writing material he'd coaxed out of Lady Hys was nearly gone. "Really?"

"Paper, all sorts of writing tools…" Romelle found a small package that looked familiar and raised an eyebrow; she wouldn't have expected to find such things in a military stockpile. But the Drules did like their ceremonial trappings. "Even a few crowquill pens."

"If you guys don't mind nabbing me a few of those supplies…" Sven frowned and reconsidered the request. "…A lot of those supplies, in fact."

Keith chuckled. "Once we've explored fully, I'm sure we can bring you some pens and paper, Sven." He was a little surprised to see such things here, but then again… in the aftermath of a conquest, technological options might be limited. He supposed the Drules had experience coping with infrastructure networks they'd destroyed.

That thought ended his amusement immediately, and he motioned for the others to keep going.

The next couple of supply closets held similarly mundane provisions: empty knapsacks, canteens, even a handful of what looked like uniform repair kits. Those would probably be much more useful to the Arusians than their conquerors. The others were empty, though the shelves had very little dust. Presumably whatever the Golden Knights had stored there had been repurposed by the occupiers.

The last door was cold to the touch, and was not marked as a supply closet. "Refrigerated storage," Romelle whispered. For some reason—perhaps reflex—perhaps just entirely reasonable caution—Pidge and Lance kept their weapons ready as Keith carefully opened the door.

What greeted them was a room full of completely normal food: carefully packaged animal carcasses, alien fruits and vegetables, loaves of bread. It made Keith uneasy, and the hair on the back of Lance's neck stand up, but neither of them could quite put it into words until Pidge spoke.

"None of this looks like the ration packaging from the Cor'velon."

Fuck. "No, it doesn't." Lance looked around and made a face. "Fresh hunting."

Filing in behind them, Romelle started checking the labels. Many were in fact labeled twice; once in Arusian, once with a Drakure approximation that often rather badly missed the mark. The overall message was clear. "All of this is from Arus."

"All of it," Keith echoed, clenching his fists. "There's so much here." The Drules had not been wanting for food, and he suspected they were the only ones.

"Fucking bullshit," Lance growled.

Pidge shook his head. "We must have known this, kir sa tye? They conquered the planet, the Princess and those from the castle couldn't have been the majority…" He trailed off as Lance spat a few more curses.

"No, not the majority," Keith agreed. "That doesn't make literally walking into proof of what's been happening here any easier to take."

There was nothing more to be learned from the cold storage, and plenty more to be angry about, so they left it behind and moved on.

Nothing else of particular note greeted them in the lower levels—though they did find another aide with a hole in her back. She appeared to have been organizing a schedule, perhaps a duty roster. It wasn't lost on any of the team that these were precisely the people they'd have hoped to get some answers from…

"I'm starting to think you're right, Lance."

Smirk. "Nice to know you're seeing the light, Keith." If they had to be investigating such an overall crappy situation, he could at least damn well gloat about being right.

The commander grimaced, but couldn't really argue the point. They walked in silence for a bit, finding the stairs to the headquarters' upper level, which was just as abandoned and largely unremarkable until reaching a door with the same golden winged sigil as outside.

"Well this looks important."

Pushing the door open they found a large, ornately carved desk—one that very much seemed Arusian in nature, based on the matching golden feathers etched around the edges. Next to it—a study in contrasts—was an ugly, bulky chunk of machinery with several focusing dishes aimed towards the window.

"Some sort of comm array?" Lance asked, frowning.

"Yeah, it looks like. Might be good to take this back and see if it's in working order—not that I'm qualified to judge, but I don't see any holes in it." Keith felt certain this equipment was not of Arusian origin. "Maybe we could even pull a communication history?"

"Not my area," Lance said with a shrug, glancing at Pidge. The ninja had already moved up to investigate, circling the unit with narrowed eyes.

Then a yell. "Mijtairra sa kye!" As Keith and Lance rushed forward, Pidge sprang, and there was a dull thud. A moment later they could hear his frustrated sigh, and he popped up sheepishly from behind the desk. "…Never mind. Already dead."

"But you would have subdued him most effectively," Green pointed out encouragingly, and he glared through the wall in her general direction.

"Is everything okay?" Romelle called out nervously from the doorway, and Lance snorted.

"Yeah, Pidge is just making sure the dead are dead." The ninja glared at him, too.

Even without seeing the glare, Hunk could imagine it just fine. "'Round here can't really blame him, yeah?"

"Feels downright fucking practical."

The rest of the group came around the desk as Pidge poked the dead Drule a few times. "This one's dressed almost as fancy as that Arusian noble was."

"Yeah, I'll say." Del Seva had been gaudier and shinier, but this Drule had layers of silk and fine embroidery that could only be signs of his station—it sure as hell wasn't practical dress for this climate. "What can you tell us about this one, Romelle?"

She studied the body with a frown. "He must have been in charge of this outpost. Politically, I mean—only high-ranking politicians would have such complex designs. It's a visual ranking system of sorts, as much as a military insignia would be." It was not a system she'd known well; Lotor had discouraged worrying too much about it. But there was no doubt in her mind that this had been someone with power.

"The more important and protected, the less practical attire," Pidge mused. "Logical."

"Makes it that much easier to…" Lance kicked the Drule over. "Get shot in the back."

"Damn." Keith clenched a fist. This was surely the person they'd really have wanted to ask some questions, and perhaps even been able to leverage to further advantage. Now all those options were lost to them. "Alright. We can't do anything about this… hopefully the comms will give us something. Let's keep going."

They hadn't gone particularly far when Pidge froze, holding an arm out to stop them. "I hear something."

Immediately Keith motioned for silence and raised his gun, starting to creep forward much more slowly. He could hear it too, once they all went quiet; a faint knocking sound coming from somewhere along the next corridor. The hallway itself was empty, with a door at the end, and as they approached the knocking was getting louder.

Tension was thick, with Lance raising his gun and Pidge crouching with his knife at the ready. Maybe he was really going to have to stab something this time. But as Keith cautiously tried the door, he found it locked.

First one of those they'd found here.

Romelle found herself flicking her gaive'llar's blade open and closed nervously, watching as Pidge started picking the lock unprompted. The knocking sound ceased fairly quickly—the door seemed to rattle rather loudly as the ninja worked.

He was none too pleased with that, but there was nothing to be done for it. The mechanism wasn't in the best shape. "We won't be surprising them."

"We know." Keith leveled his own rifle, eyes narrowing, as Pidge finished his work and silently counted down with his fingers. Then he pushed the door open to reveal—

"Wait, they're Arusians!" Romelle gasped.

Pidge opened his mouth to say so was Del Seva, then closed it before the words came out. It was true, but these Arusians were also locked in a room. And they looked more than a little terrified, even when Lance and Keith lowered their weapons and exchanged worried looks.

It seemed to be an infirmary, Lance noted, though none of the Arusians seemed injured. They were wearing threadbare clothing, a few even in tattered Drule-style garments. His grip on his gun tightened again at a couple flashes of blue from a corner; two of the far beds were occupied by Drules. The rest of the occupants seemed to have just been locked in here for… why?

You know why.

Red growled low in the back of his mind, both comforting and fierce. "There are those who can yet be protected and saved."

Justice. He exhaled slowly, knowing it was true. This was why—they were why he was fighting now. And if he were honest, he wasn't even surprised at the sight. Just sickened.

"Fuck," he whispered, and Keith nodded fervent agreement.

"The invaders locked them away while their structures were under attack," Green snarled, and Pidge jumped; he wasn't used to her making unsolicited comments about things that weren't either the lions themselves or his emotional state. "They would have been killed." She sounded truly furious.

So was he, if he thought about it.

As the immediate shock wore off, Romelle approached with her hands open. "It's alright," she assured them in Arusian. "We're not here to harm you." A few looked startled all over again—they probably recognized her as Polluxian. But even a Polluxian was better than Drules, and she quickly found herself bombarded with questions.

As she did her best to calm them, Keith retrieved the commset from her and stepped further back into the hallway. They couldn't put this report off to the end. "Princess, can you hear me? We've found what looks to be fifteen or so imprisoned Arusians, and a couple of injured Drules."

Allura swallowed hard, gathering herself before responding. She wasn't entirely surprised to hear that either, but the confirmation stung. "Bring them back to the castle."

"Including the Drules?"

"Yes. We will have some questions for them before deciding their fate."

Noting the steely calm in the princess' voice, Pidge decided he didn't envy their new prisoners one bit.

"Alright. We'll need the Falcon to come back after delivering the first group."

Daniel was listening in too, and everyone could hear his "hell yeah, more flying!" loud and clear. Keith smirked a little despite himself before continuing.

"We also found a few supply closets of logistical provisions—including some paper and writing tools, consider this a formal request for us to keep some of those—and a large stash of produce and meat that looks to have been looted or extorted from the locals. There's some discarded military equipment as well, and probably more in the barracks once we get there. What do you want us to do with it?"

All good questions. Allura thought it over quickly. "If they've been taking food from the locals, we must return it to them. I'll send someone from the Council to oversee things, and a couple of guards to secure the complex once you're finished." They may not have much in the way of personnel to spare, but this was surely worth it. "Take what you need of the Drules' own supplies, and take notes of the rest. I expect we'll want it brought back here, but I want a fuller picture first. If you have or can find any means to take images of anything important, do that as well. The more information we have, the better state we'll be in."

"Understood." Keith noted her tone too—her quick, calm efficiency. This was a task she'd undoubtedly overseen many times before… though probably not regarding an actual Drule-controlled fortress.

Exhaling slowly, he returned to the doorway, where Romelle's conversation with the Arusians had hardly even begun to slow down. For the first time, he noticed the window; he could just glimpse Red Lion sitting on the parade ground, and Yellow pacing the perimeter beyond. The Arusians—and hell, the wounded Drules—would have been able to see everything while they were locked in here.

He didn't want to think of how terrifying that must have been.

This isn't going to be easy. Any illusions they may have gotten from their rout of the tanks had been thoroughly dispelled in the aftermath. No matter how well the combat went, they had a hell of a mountain to climb here yet. And we can't count on every fight being that easy, either. A slight shiver went up his spine, the weight of it all settling in again.

"We will all do as we must, Stormsoul. We will protect this world."

Keith closed his eyes, nodding slowly. I hope so.