(A/N Hi I know the line breaks aren't quite right but this thing is a monstrosity so... sorry?)
Chapter Two: Take My Land
Two Years Earlier
The hub, as always, was dirty and crowded with an entire menagerie of different folk. Food stalls and tiny shops lined the halls, merchants calling out to passers-by in about ten different languages. Across the way one voice was louder than the other; a carnie extolling how for just the low price of five credits you could see his proof of alien life. Their group passed him by without a second glance.
Shiro, like the soldier he still was, always kept himself aware of his surroundings. Matt as always walked to his right, helping him clear a path through the crowd towards the mail station. The other three members of his crew followed along behind: Hunk, happily gnawing away on an ice planet he'd conned Shiro into buying for him, Lance babbling about what he was going to buy with whatever money he wasn't sending on to his family, and Keith, who hadn't even wanted to come and looked like he was about to leap out of his own skin.
Shiro wasn't personally expecting any mail, and he knew Keith wasn't either, but the other three could plausibly have packages or letters from family waiting for them. Matt especially had been eager to check in at the Hub. It had been several months since he'd last heard from his mother and sister, and since his father's death at the end of the war he'd been more worried about their wellbeing.
Matt paused, just for a half step, and Shiro instinctively scanned the area for what could have surprised him. He came up empty on potential threats, but what he did see was a short, scrawny girl with short auburn hair, sitting on an upturned suitcase next to the entrance of the mail station.
The girl got to her feet when she spotted them, and this time Matt ground to a complete halt, making Hunk ram into his back.
"What is she-" That was all that Matt got out before the girl had dashed across the hall and crashed right into him, knocking his breath away.
"Check your mail more often!" She said, pulling back just enough to punch him in the arm. She was wearing wire frame glasses. "I've been here for three weeks!"
"Katie?" Matt breathed out, and oh, right, this must be his little sister. Katie went back to hugging him as he forced the rest of his question. "What are you doing here?"
From the pocket of her green shirt she produced a rumpled letter, which she handed to him before returning to their previous embrace. Matt ran his fingers through her hair as his eyes darted over the paper, and Shiro held his breath.
If his little sister was here, alone, the news couldn't be good.
Matt froze, only confirming his thoughts, and the paper trembled in his hand.
"Matt?" Shiro prompted when he didn't say anything. "What does it say?"
"... It says my moms dead." Matt's voice is painfully flat. "I'm… I'm supposed to be her legal guardian now."
He raised stunned eyes to Shiro's, and there, buried deep beneath his soldiers mask, is the deep stinging grief that he hasn't allowed himself to feel yet. Shiro is more than familiar.
"Shiro, what am I supposed to do?" In that moment he's not a soldier, not a scavenger, just a person. "I can't- We don't have anywhere-"
"We could bring her with us?" Even as he says it he knows it's not going to go over well, and he's right.
"What? Shiro! We can't just bring her, what we do is dangerous, she could get hurt-"
His sister peeled herself off of him with a snarl. "'She' is standing right here. And I'm not a little kid, I can be useful!"
"You're sixteen!" Matt protested, but Katie wasn't even listening to him anymore. Instead she's rushing back to her suitcase to dig through the duffle bag sitting beside it, and in a daze the group follows after her.
"Look." She said, shoving a handful of blueprints at Matt's chest. All Shiro can see is the word 'Crybaby' scrawled across the top of one of them. "Look at what I came up with. What you do is you take a distress beacon off a dead ship and stick it on a bit of space junk. When you're doin' something shady-"
"Pidge!"
"You just deploy this nearby, and if the Garrison comes along you can activate it. Their protocol will require them to leave you alone and go help the fake civilians."
"Lemme see that." Demanded Hunk, shoving past Shiro to get at the schematics, which Matt let him take.
"And that's not all I can do, I know my way around engines too! Who's your pilot?" Matt pointed numbly to Keith, and Katie whirled on him next.
"Have you ever pulled a Crazy Ivan?"
Poor Keith looked baffled. "Wh-what? No! You'd have to flip both engines and dump the fuel reserves all at once to do that, of course I haven't-"
"I know how to do that! All you have to do is cut the hydraulics!"
"Pidge-"
At Matt's voice she spun back around, and Shiro is taken aback to see her eyes shining with tears.
"I can be useful." She said again, a distinct note of pleading in her voice. "I can earn my keep, I promise, just don't send me away, Matt. Please, I want to stay with you."
Shiro can see the exact moment Matt breaks.
"I won't." He says, visibly swallowing back the lump in his throat and holding out his arms to his sister for another hug. "I won't, mei-mei, I promise."
Matt met Shiro's eyes again over his sisters head, and Shiro nodded to him. They could figure this out.
They could make this work.
Present Day
The Middle Eastern style music being played in the dusty bar was nearly deafening, but not so much as the dim hum of chit-chat that surrounded them. An amateur belly dancer wove a complicated path through the tables, covered in sequins and barefoot on the dirt floor, cheap LED bracelets adorning her wrists. Everywhere she went she received appreciative looks from the men drinking, though she paid them no mind, instead dancing her way to the corner table where three non-descript men sat playing Chinese checkers.
Right behind one of them, she paused in her dance just long enough to slip a bit of paper into his hand. He tucked it away his coat, and she danced away.
"Your move." Said Lance, and Shiro carefully picked up his marble to tink tink tink across the wooden board. It had been awhile since he played, a few months since he and Keith had broken out his worn set with the missing marbles, and that inexperience showed when his move allowed Matt almost all the way across with his next turn.
"Nice work, dumbass." Lance said with a teasing grin. Shiro opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by a man at the bar, bellowing over the music.
"Toast!" He yelled, and Shiro turned to peer over his chair. "Toast! Quiet! Shut up!"
With a wheeze and a groan the instruments stopped playing, and the belly dancer and various waitresses scurried off to the edge of the room. The man standing at the bar wasn't much to look at- bald head, scruffy beard, beer belly. He was also incredibly, obviously drunk.
"I, uh- I got words."
"I bet you do." Matt snickered under his breath, inspiring a laugh from Lance. Shiro merely listened with an impassive expression.
"I'm sayin' this… is an ass-picious day."
"What day is it?" Whispered Lance. Neither of them answered.
"We all know what day it is. A glorious day for all the proud members of the allied planets. Unification day!"
"Here, here!" Cried another man from a different part of the bar. Shiro traded a tense look with Matt, who looked about as irritated as he felt.
"The end of them scumbag independants," The man continued, bolstered by the nods and smiles from those around him, "And the dawn of a new galaxy."
A cheer went up as the gruff men downed their drinks. Shiro picked up his empty cup and stood.
"Shiro?"
"Just feel the need for another drink."
Shiro made his way up to the bar, carefully avoiding looking anyone in the eye, and stood beside the man who had toasted as he spoke to the bartender.
"Qǐng zài lái yī bēi Ng-gaa-pei." He peeled off a couple of bills from the wad he had in his pocket and tossed them onto the counter. The man beside him took notice.
"Hey, you gonna drink to the Garrison with me?" Shiro ignored him, he didn't notice or care. "Six years today, The Garrison sent the browncoats runnin', pissin' their pants." Shiro still didn't answer, just picked up the cup the bartender had handed back to him and took a gulp of the brown liquid that tasted more like dirt than anything else.
The man gave him a once over, and he frowned. His breath reeked this close up.
"You know… your coat is kinda a brownish color."
"It was on sale." Replied Shiro flippantly, and he took another drink.
"You didn't toast."
Good, he noticed that.
"I'm thinkin' you're one of them independents."
For the first time, Shiro turned his head and met the man's gaze. "And I'm thinkin' you weren't burdened with an overabundance of schooling. So why don't we just ignore each other until we go away?"
Apparently unsatisfied with this solution, the man spat, "The independents were a bunch of cowardly, inbred piss pots." Shiro took another drink. "Shoulda been killed offa every world spinnin'."
Shiro set down his glass with a thump and turned to fully face the man.
"Say that to my face." He growled, and his opponent drew himself up to his full height.
"I said, you're a coward, and a piss pot. Now what're you gonna do about it?"
Shiro, unexpectedly, cracked a grin.
"Nothin'. I just want you to face me so that he could get behind you."
He spun around, just in time to meet the butt of one of Matt's pistols, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes while Matt smirked.
"Drunks are so cute." He said with a rueful shake of his head. Shiro chuckled, but his smile dropped as soon as he noticed the entire rest of the bar getting to their feet, eyes locked on them.
"Ō, zhè zhēn shì gè kuàilè de guòchéng."
Matt turned, flicked his eyes over the scene, and called, "Lance?"
Lance, still sitting in their corner booth, raised his glass to them and kicked his feet up on the table.
"Hey, I didn't fight in no war. Best of luck, though."
"Fine," Said Shiro, setting his jaw. "Let's do this."
Two minutes later he was being flung through the front window, which glitched for a moment before returning to it's previous holographic perfection. He landed hard in the dust, and with a groan rolled up onto his elbow to dig his radio out of his pocket.
"Keith, we've got some local color happening, a grand entrance would not go amiss." He didn't wait for Keith to respond, he merely tucked the radio away and scrambled to his feet just as Matt burst through the front door of the bar, kicking a man square in the gut and sending him to his back. Without looking back he turned, grabbed another man, and threw him against one of the outside pillars.
The first guy got up and took a swing for Shiro, which he ducked and managed to land a hard blow to the man's abdomen, just as Matt tossed his guy into the opposite pillar.
Shiro faced off against his opponent. He jerked his arm as though he was about to strike, tricking the man into flinching. Once, twice, and then he kicked him right below the knee and spun the guy around before landing a right hook to his nose.
"Is Lance even awake?" Matt yelled in irritation. A half second later the man in question burst through the doors, wielding two assaulters off with a metal barstool. Grunting harshly he shoved them forward, making them stumble, then hit one across the brow with the head of the chair and the other in the gut with the feet.
After that is got a bit messy. Matt took a hit and went down, springing back up with a fistful of dirt to throw into the man's eyes. Shiro grabbed another by his collar and slammed their foreheads together to send him stumbling. Lance had lost his chair and was being warded off by it, and after a minute or so of brawling they found themselves being herded towards the edge of a steep ravine, blocked in by nine or ten assailants.
"Woah, woah!" Shiro shouted, barely keeping himself from tumbling over the edge and spinning to face the veritable army he'd managed to piss off. "There's just an acre of you fella's, isn't there?" They all maintained their battle stances, Matt's hand reaching for his pistol while Shiro held his arms out in a half defensive, half quelling position.
"This is why we lost, ya know." He muttered to Matt. "Superior numbers."
"Thanks for the reenactment, sir."
One man stormed forward through the crowd- the one from the bar, a red welt rising neatly on his forehead. When he reached the front he pulled a pistol from his waistband, and all the other men followed suit.
"Hey, them's ain't fair!" Cried Lance.
He spat at their feet. "I'm thinkin' someone needs to put you down, dog. What do you think?"
Before Shiro could think of a witty answer their voices were being drowned out by chopping air, all of their clothes tossing as the Golden Lion rose up triumphantly from the cliff behind them. Sure it wasn't much next to other ships, but compared to nine men it was rather intimidating.
"Every man there go back inside." Said Keith over the loudspeaker. "Or we will blow a new crater in this little moon."
The hiss of hydraulics as the gangplank lowered for them, and with grumbles and glares, the men turned to slink back inside. Right before the gangplank closed Shiro caught the bald man's eye one last time, and raised his hand in a cheeky wave.
Once aboard, Lance promptly lost his shit.
"Damn yokels," He wheezed, practically rolling on the floor, "Can't even tell a transport ship ain't got no guns on it. 'Blow a new crater in this moon', holy shit, I gotta give Keith a high five for that one…"
He was still wiping tears from his face in the hold when Shiro and Matt ascended to the bridge, each wearing matching mischievous smiles. Pidge was there this time, on her back fiddling with some wires underneath the co-pilots dashboard. She pushed herself upright when they entered, but Keith didn't turn.
"Nice save, Keith." Shiro said to his back. "As always."
"My pleasure." The words are short and clipped, and Shiro holds back a sigh. It had been well on a month since Shiro had decided to let Coran stay on the ship, and Keith was still giving him the cold shoulder over it. It was getting old.
"What happened?" Asked Pidge, tossing a cursory look at her brothers bruised and dusty form. "Another terrible brawl?"
"Oddly enough there was." Her brother answered in the same manner. He looked pointedly at Shiro.
"Hey, I didn't start it! I just wanted a quiet drink."
"Funny, sir," Matt always tacks on sir when he wants to be extra annoying, "How you always seem to find yourself in a Garrison-friendly bar come U-day, lookin' for a quiet drink."
Shiro sighed in mock sadness and walked across the bridge to lean behind Keith's chair. Despite the bruises he could feel forming and his scraped knuckles, that pressure that had been pressing on his chest had dissipated. He could breathe now.
"See, this is another sign of your tragic space dementia, all paranoid and crotchety, it breaks the heart."
Pidge openly laughed at her brother's affronted look, and if Shiro wasn't wrong he even saw Keith's shoulders twitch a little. Good, maybe the ice was starting to thaw.
"Did we at least make the contact?" He spat out, and ok, maybe not. Still Shiro's mood was light as he produced the slip of paper from his coat.
"Ladies and menfolk, we have got ourselves a job." Matt stepped forward with a smile to take the paper, and Shiro strode as close to the windscreens as he could get, staring up at the terraformed blue sky with eagerness blatant in his eyes.
"Take us out of the world, Keith. Got us some crime to be done."
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
On his way down to the infirmary, Shiro found a little time and a big enough hole in his good mood to brood, just a little.
He didn't like having Keith angry with him. There had only been one or two occasions of it before, but neither of them had lasted this long. Over the years the crew had bonded into a family, and he and Keith shared a special bond. Keith looked up to him, he knew that, and he personally thought of him as a little brother, not unlike how Matt looked at Pidge. They ribbed on each other and made fun of each other, but they'd also do anything for each other.
It had taken him a long time to earn Keith's trust. And when he was angry those little bits of softness Shiro had managed to expose closed right back up again.
When he walked into the infirmary Coran was there, bustling over his binders and tablets full of his Galra research, and Shiro neatly tucked away all of his tumultuous feelings about the situation with Keith.
Coran glanced over at him as he made his way to the sink, eyeing his red and swollen knuckles.
"Would you like a weave on that?" He asked in his chipper accent. Shiro shook his head, running the wounds under the tap.
"It's nothin'."
"I expect someone's face feels differently." There it was, that touch of humor, and Shiro smiled as he straightened up.
"Well, they tell ya never to hit a man with a closed fist, but it is on occasion hilarious."
"Hmmm." Coran stroked his mustache. "And did the fight draw any… unwanted attention?"
"No feds. Just an honest brawl between folk. Now if you'll excuse me, doctor, I've got some things to see to."
"Of course, my boy. I'll see you at dinner."
His next stop was to haul a new part to the engine room, one Pidge had been begging for for months. But when he got there, all thoughts of the part flew right out of his mind at the sight of the spider's web of wires stretched across the entire room. Right in the middle of it sat Hunk, leaning against the generator and flipping his way through a book Shiro knew he'd read at least fifty times.
"Hunk, what the hell is all of this?"
Hunk didn't even look up. "I dunno, Pidge did it. Something about the compression coil again."
Shiro held up the part. "What, you mean like this compression coil?"
Hunk jerked his gaze up, and almost immediately his eyes began to sparkle. "Yes! You got us a new one?!"
"Yep. Hows about you get this hooked up and I'll go track down the wire gremlin."
"Yes sir, Captain, sir!" Hunk scrambled to his feet, leaving the book discarded on the floor, and snatched the part from Shiro's hand. Shiro merely chuckled, shook his head, and set off in search of Pidge.
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
Pidge adored Allura's shuttle. It was all done up in soothing greys and blues, and it was quiet. As much as she loved the hum of machinery and the whir of the Lion's engine, there was something special about the quiet music Allura always kept playing in the background, just loud enough to notice but not enough to impede even the softest conversation. Combine that with the plush carpeting under her and Allura's hands in her hair and she could fall asleep right then.
"You have such lovely hair." Allura murmured, bringing Pidge back from the precipice of slumber. "Do you get it from your mother or your father?"
Allura always asked questions like this. Trying to help Pidge remember them in a way that was less painful and more bitter sweet.
"My father." Was the answer. "You couldn't tell 'cause he was all grey, but mom was blonde."
Allura let out a little hum of agreement. "Have you ever considered having your hair shorter? I imagine it must get in the way in the engine room."
"I cut it once. After mom died."
Allura purposefully dragged the soft brush through her hair, settling it over her shoulders, and let the confession land where it would. She could always tell when to speak and when not to speak, probably part of being a companion. Which reminded her.
"Do you do this for your clients?" She asked. Pidge was curious by nature, and the intricacies of the Companions lifestyle was no exception. Not her type of life, obviously, but there was no harm in asking.
"Very occasionally." Allura said with a soft laugh. "Not many of them have enough hair to get a brush through."
Pidge sat forward, making Allura pause in her brushing and twisted a bit to look up at her where she sat on the sofa.
"Have you ever had to service a really hideous client? With boils and the like?"
Allura rolled her eyes. "A Companion chooses her own clients." She reminded Pidge. "That's guild law."
Right, right of course. Companions weren't prostitutes, and they didn't have pimps. They had a guild.
"But looks don't matter so terribly. You look for-"
A knock on the shuttle door interrupts her, and the two girls exchange exasperated expressions. Always being barged in on and cut short on this ship, it would seem.
"Qǐngjìn." Allura called as Pidge pouted, and then Shiro is there, still in his dusty clothes from the bar fight.
"Princess, you really need to stop holding my mechanic in thrall like this." It's fake authority and they all know it, so Allura merely smiles and shakes her head. Her fingers begin pulling Pidge's hair back into her usual style.
"And Pidge, what the hell is goin' on in the engine room?" Shiro continued with raised eyebrows. "Were there space monkeys? Some terrifyin' space monkeys maybe got loose?"
"I had to rewire the grav thrust." Retorted Pidge, prevented from tossing her head as Allura fixed her hair. "Because somebody won't replace that crappy compression coil."
Shiro crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to think. "Now would this be the same somebody who just now delivered a brand new compression coil to the engine room?"
Allura barely had time to finish Pidge's ponytail before she was darting to her feet, a grin of delight splitting her cheeks.
"Really?! You got us a new one?!"
"Hunk's installing it right now, so can you put all those wires back where they belong, please and thank you?" Pidge didn't even hear the entire sentence, she was already rushing out of the shuttle and back towards the engine room.
With a friendly sigh Allura got to her feet, gathering up the hair brushing utensils to put them back where they belonged. For some reason Shiro was lingering, shifting almost imperceptibly from foot to foot.
"Do you need something, Captain?"
Shiro moved over to her dresser, fiddling with some of the jade figurines she kept there. He didn't often indulge in little fidgets like this, but he'd long since learned that Allura would know he was anxious whether he hid it or not, so why even bother?
"We got a job." He said after a few moments of quiet.
"That's good. This job wouldn't happen to be somewhere civilized where I can screen some respectable clients?"
Shiro cringed just slightly, and Allura almost felt bad, but not really. She hadn't been able to have a client for a while now because of all the nonsense happening, and that was technically breaching part of her rental agreement.
"Sorry, but no. We haven't gotten a location for the actual job yet, but we'll be landin' on a skyplex in a bit. Run by a fella called Zarkon."
Allura closed the drawer she'd been organizing and straightened. Shiro's voice had changed from the light tone he'd been using with Pidge. Now it was solemn; she should pay attention.
"Never heard of him."
"Well I have, and while we're there you shouldn't leave the ship."
Allura raised an eyebrow. Usually Shiro knew better than to tell her where to go or what to do, and Shiro seemed to realize her reaction, as he took a step closer and plastered an earnest expression on his face.
"Zarkon's got a pretty bad reputation, alright, and I don't-" He cut himself off and ran a hand through his white hair. "I don't know if you'd be safe."
Despite the tone of the conversation, the statement made a small smile quirk on the edge of her lip. She wasn't technically a part of the crew, but Shiro was protective over her just the same.
"You don't have to worry about me, Shiro. I won't go anywhere."
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
The skyplex took the terms 'cold and clinical' to whole new level. The halls were all solid grey steel with floors to match, lined with inconspicuous foiled tunnels that led to each room of the structure, patrolled by guards that were both armed and armored.
One such guard led Shiro, Matt, and Lance to one such tunnel, knocking respectfully on the door on the far side while the three of them crouched awkwardly in the small space. With a slight hiss and puff of air the door slid open, and right on the other side of it stood a man that was approximately the size of a mountain, glaring at them with an arm braced over the door frame. That hand held a wicked looking knife that Keith probably would've been jealous of.
"Myzax, away from the door." Commanded a deep, gravelly voice from inside the room. For a moment he didn't move, merely peered at them with his pale, pale brown eyes. Then, slowly, he lowered his foot from the lip of the door and stood to the side.
One by one, with the monstrosity breathing down their necks, they filed inside.
The interior of the room was much nicer than the hallway. The floor was covered in a plush purple carpet, deep amethyst interwoven with gold and white in a complex pattern. Angled towards the door was a heavy mahogany desk with a touchscreen inlaid on the top, a single lamp on the corner to provide a warmer tone to the white light from the station. Along the right hand wall was a series of thick windows that looked down into the center of the station, revealing bustling machinery at work.
"Which of you is Captain Shirogane?" The tone is frigid, and Shiro puts his shoulders back. In what seems to be a running theme, this man is also bigger than him, lounging behind the desk like an emperor. His dark hair is thinning and combed over his scalp, eyes narrow and calculating, expression revealing nothing. He wears a grey pinstripe suit, neat, pressed, and spotless.
"That'd be me." Shiro said, taking a half step forward. The air is tense with expectancy and he can still feel the gaze of Zarkon's guard dog on his back, so he tacks on, "And this is my first mate Matt, and that's Lance."
And for once, thank god, Lance doesn't say a word.
Zarkon gives Shiro a once over and sits back, still intimidating despite trying to appear relaxed.
"Yes, you will do." He mused. "I've heard rumors about you- people say you get the job done."
It's not a compliment. Shiro's throat tightens, and he merely inclines his head in a thankful nod. This man is evaluating them, and based on what he's heard about him, he doesn't want to be found wanting.
Zarkon poises his hands over his desk, folding them imperiously. "You've heard rumors about me too, I'm sure."
"A few." Shiro admits.
"I suppose they weren't very flattering."
It's a trap.
"I… guess that depends on your definition of flattering."
Zarkon chuckled, a low, dangerous thing like a growl, and gestured to Myzax. The man lumbered obediently from behind them and around the desk, taking hold of a handle on the wall and sliding back a panel that led to another room.
Behind that door was a man.
Hanging from his ankles.
And judging by the wounds and the lack of movement, most likely dead.
There's a quiet whoosh as all three of them simultaneously sucked in a breath, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. All of them shifted their heels just a bit into stances more useful for fighting.
Zarkon noticed all of this and merely laughed under his breath again, sending shivers down Shiro's spine. God, this guy was a nutcase.
"Now they are not just rumors. Now you know exactly what you're getting into, yes?"
Shiro took a deep, cleansing breath to steady himself before answering. "Yes."
With a wave of an indifferent hand, Zarkon signals for Myzax to close the door again, then gestures for the three of them to step closer to his desk.
"The job I have for you is a train. Have you done trains before?"
"A few." It's a lie, but Zarkon doesn't have to know that. He merely nods and pressed the touchscreen on his desk to power it up, revealing schematics of a bullet train. He swiped his fingers, scrolling past several cars before stopping and selecting one.
"Here, in the fifth car. Two boxes. Garrison goods." Zarkon looked up expectantly. "I don't think you'll have a problem stealing from the Garrison, will you?"
Shiro said nothing, and Zarkon pressed a circle on the corner of the screen, making the schematic dissipate into a map with two cities labeled, connected by train tracks.
"You'll get on the train at Hancock, headed for Paradiso. You'll retrieve the goods before you reach Paradiso and deliver them to Myzax here." He indicated a position in the foothills, and an orange path lit up from the train tracks to the rendezvous. "Half of the payment will be given to you now, and the other half at the rendezvous. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
It was a simple job, and it paid well. So even if the one giving it was some sort of sadistic crime boss, everything would be fine.
Probably.
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
The moment they set foot on that train was the moment Shiro remembered why he preferred travel by ship. The interior was dim and smoky, occupied by far too many people being far too quiet. The car itself jerked and shuddered as it ran over the tracks and it made Shiro's arm ache where metal met flesh. Still he fought not to let the pain show on his face and waited in his seat across from Matt, making himself wait as long as he could stand before saying anything.
"How long until we reach Paradiso?"
Matt checked. "Another twenty minutes. We should be in the foothills in five." The foothills, where the Lion was concealed and waiting for them.
"Let's get to work."
Shiro rose first and stepped out into the aisle, waiting for Matt to retrieve his inconspicuous satchel of supplies and follow. His shoulders were tense the way they had been for days, ever since they met with Zarkon, and Shiro didn't blame him. Matt wasn't the only one with an image of the dead man in his mind. And Shiro didn't plan on being the next visitor to that room.
They switched cars, gingerly stepping over the connecting metal that seemed halfhearted at best and dangerous at worst, and Matt slid open the door to the next car before they both froze.
Because the next car was full of armored, armed, and hopefully not angry Garrison soldiers.
For a long, terrifying moment no one moved. Shiro's mind was racing in circles, his fingers automatically searching for the pistol that he didn't have, heart thumping a million miles per hour. Why was there a full squad of soldiers on this train? Were they guarding the supplies? Had Zarkon set them up?
The door on the other side of the car slid open, and in shuffled a small Asian woman, steering a young child before her. None of the soldiers reacted, and Matt and Shiro exchanged a tiny look of relief before venturing in.
They were letting people pass. They weren't guarding anything. It was just a coincidence.
The two of them moved forward, sidestepping the small family and passing into the next car. This one wasn't as nice as the one they'd been on- It was wooden rather than metal, made out of thin slits that let in slivers of sunlight. There were no seats and no air conditioning, just a bunch of people shoved into a glorified moving crate.
Matt tugged on his elbow as soon as the door was shut behind them.
"I'm thinkin' there's some information we might be lacking." He muttered to Shiro, who nodded in return.
"Yeah, but they don't seem to be protecting the goods. We stick to the plan."
Matt blew out an unimpressed breath, knocking some of his long hair to the side, but followed Shiro nonetheless as they made their way to the next car down.
Coran wandered into the cargo hold, curious about the sounds he'd been hearing and the absence of the captain and first mate. He knew, of course, that they were on a job; but what that job entailed is what intrigued him.
In the hold he found Hunk and Pidge, Hunk fiddling with some kind of safety harness while Pidge held a controller and was carefully opening up a hatch in the floor. There was another door beneath it, preventing the wind from coming in.
"Hello there, crewmembers." He said as cheerfully as he could, resulting in two bright smiles. Despite everything that had happened (and Keith's suspicious attitude), Hunk and Pidge seemed to like him just fine. The latter had even inquired about his research a few times since he'd signed on.
"Hey, Coran." Pidge said with a cheeky wave. Hunk merely waved as well before returning to his harness fiddling. His brow was creased with anxiety.
"What are you two up to?"
Pidge shrugged, not even looking up from her controller. "Crime."
Such a blase tone, it made Coran blink for a moment before he recovered himself. "Oh, crime is it? Of course, I should've guessed."
"It's a train heist." Hunk explained further, having finally finished the harness and set it aside. His fingers twisted together as he talked. "See, we're gonna fly over the train car that the captain and Matt snuck onto this mornin', lower Lance onto the car, and they bundle up the goods and we haul them all back up."
"Easy as lyin'." Chimed in Pidge with a smirk.
"Oh, so you've done this before?"
That made Pidge laugh at loud. "Oh hell no. But it's gonna work. Hunk and I came up with it and our plans always work." This eased Hunk enough for a small smile to escape, and the two of them bumped fists.
Clanging footsteps from the door behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see Lance traipsing into the room, wearing long brown pants and a zipped up heavy jacket, a pair of goggles perched on his head.
"Let's get this show on the road!" He exclaimed, making his way over to where Hunk had set the harness. "Help me out with this, will ya Hunk?"
"I don't like this." Hunk answered, even as he helped Lance put on the harness he had so painstakingly prepared. "What if we drop you too fast? What if you get stuck down there? What if you fall? What if the doors close on you? What if the crates fall on you? What if-"
"Huuuuuuuuuuuunk." Interrupted Lance as he clasped the final buckle on the harness. "Knock it off, I'm freaked out enough as it is."
"Right, right, sorry."
"Besides, if anything goes wrong it's gonna be Keith bringing us down too close."
"Unlikely." Quipped Pidge, and Lance rolled his eyes at her before finally seeming to notice Coran's presence.
"Hey, Coran, come to watch the thrilling heroics?"
"If that's alright with you three."
"Sure it is." He said with a scoff. "Just because Keith is all pissy about you don't mean the rest of us have to be. Anyway, it's just about time to kick off, so sit back and enjoy the show."
They were right outside the door that led to the trains luggage area, just a minute before they'd told Lance to be ready to drop, and the red light of the card scanner glowed angrily at them like it knew their intentions.
As Shiro slid their counterfeit card into the reader, he prayed Zarkon's sources were good.
The light changed to green, and he exchanged a smile with Matt.
"Shiny." Murmured the other man, and they ducked inside.
They immediately got to work. Matt closed the door three fourths of the way behind them, kneeling to set up a trip wire attached to a smoke grenade. At the same time Shiro located the ceiling hatch and dragged over a crate so that he could unscrew the bolts holding it shut. Once Matt finished his task he set to tracking down which of the numerous crates and boxes around them were the ones they were after. They worked silently in tandem, in complete unison.
The Golden Lion coasted low over the train. The cockpit was probably blaring with proximity and altitude alerts at the moment, but Lance didn't have it in him to feel bad for Keith as he pulled the goggles down low over his eyes. The door below was already open, the sound of the wind in the metal room deafening, and he used his fingers to count off to Pidge.
3...2...1…
He jumped. He's in freefall for barely a moment, just long enough for his stomach to drop out, and then he slams into the metal roof of the train car. The wind is awful here, tearing past him and ripping at his cheeks. He can't hear anything besides its roar, and the slight metal clang when the ceiling hatch opens behind him is almost missed.
Almost, but he notices, and crawls his way over to the opening. Shiro and Matt already have the goods bundled up in the net and in position under the hatch, so all Lance has to do is drop into the room.
Shiro gives him a proud smile and pats him on the shoulder before unclipping the line from his harness and onto the catch in the net. Then he pulls out the radio tucked in his pocket.
"Fifteen seconds." He calls to Pidge over the wind before tossing the radio to Lance.
Behind them there is a hiss, a clang, and a shout, and suddenly the car is filling up with smoke.
The Garrison soldier who had tripped the trap, blind and panicking, pulled the trigger on his gun. Matt and Shiro dove for cover just as a burned pain erupted in his right leg.
His cry was nearly inaudible over the damn wind.
"Go!" Matt shouted, and Lance really didn't need to be told twice. He raised the radio to his lips, the adrenaline from pain already sneaking in and making his hands shake.
"Go! Go now!"
The line began to recede, pulling him and the cargo up, up, up into the air, leaving Matt and Shiro to deal with the aftermath.
Shiro rushed the soldier, landing a hard kick to his abdomen followed by a blow across his jaw. The man staggered, and he grabbed the man's gun, twisted it around him so that the strap went over his throat, and used the extra leverage to throw him into the wall.
"Come on!" He called to Matt before rushing from the car. The next one was another boxcar full of people, and he and Matt both tossed smoke bombs into it, creating a screen to allow them to sneak in undetected.
Now all they had to do was talk their way off of the train and back to the Lion before they missed the rendezvous.
Easy.
The instant he was above solid decking again Lance toppled off of the crates, swearing when his leg hit the floor with a hard, painful thump.
"Lance!" Hunk was already dropping next to him while Pidge shut the door, and she was shouting too.
"Where's Matt and Shiro? What happened down there?"
Lance ignored her, spitting out through clenched teeth, "They shot my gorram leg!"
Then Coran was there, and Lance was glad, already inspecting the wound through the bloodied material of his pants. Pidge won't shut up.
"Are they still on the train? Lance! Answer me!"
"Not just now, Katie." Coran said in a too-calm-for-the-situation tone. "Hunk, help me get him to the infirmary, please."
"Everybody off!"
They were being herded off of the train just like all the other scared civilians, the tiny town of Paradiso scattered around them. It wasn't much, a mere gathering of corrugated metal buildings, probably with dirt floors.
Once off the train, Shiro and Matt ducked off to the side. They were surrounded by people- people in tattered clothes, many of them coughing, children crying, dust in the air stinging their eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye Shiro spotted a man in a leather jacket coming up to the fed standing by them, and quickly turned away to seem inconspicuous while he listened.
"Our man didn't get a good look." Said the fed, almost regretfully.
"Well, jeez, will someone find out what they took?"
They, meaning him and Matt.
The man turned, calling across the square to someone else. "Randy! Keep those people together!"
Alright, so this guy had some kind of authority, and was probably going to be in charge of solving the crime. Meaning, interrogating every person on the train. Including them. Brilliant.
"It was the medicine, sir." This voice is new, a woman, possibly a deputy. "All of the supplies."
"They stole the gorram medicine?" His voice was stunned, disbelieving, despairing. "We've been waitin'... all of it?"
"Every ounce."
Something hard and angry was settling in Shiro's gut, and when he locked eyes with Matt, he saw the same thing reflected back at him.
The man behind them sighed. "God help us."
Shiro gulped, buried his fists in his coat pockets, and closed his eyes before speaking.
"Son of a bitch."
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
Everyone in the infirmary felt the bounce and jolt when the Firefly landed, Coran having to plant a hand on the floor where he was crouching to keep from falling over. Pidge and Hunk were there, Pidge assisting with bandaging Lance's leg as best she could while Hunk stood by and let Lance try his hardest to break the bones in his hand with his grip.
A minute later Keith stepped into the room, face stone cold, and Lance glared at him.
"Why are we stopped?" He hissed out through the pain. "This isn't the rendezvous."
"It is now." Keith responded with a snarl, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Zarkon's people are waiting! They ain't partial to waiting-"
"We are not goin' anywhere," Growled Keith, "Until Shiro and Matt are back on the boat."
Pidge handed Lance a pain pill that he swallowed dry. "I agree. I'm not flying off without my brother."
"I'm sure he'll be fine, Pidge." Hunk interjected nervously. He hated when the crew fought. "He's with Shiro."
"What about the authorities?" Asked Coran as he straightened up and peeled off his blood stained latex gloves. "We're sitting here with stolen goods, won't they come looking?"
"We'll hear them if they buzz the canyon." Was Keith's answer, not breaking his staring contest with Lance.
"You don't get it! He had a guy hangin' from the ceiling, Keith, and I do not want that to be me! We can go back for them after we make the drop."
"If we try to finish the deal without Shiro, Zarkon might think we're tryin' to double cross him or somethin'." Pidge was scowling and pacing across the room, heavy boots clunking against the metal floor. "I think we're better off gettin' them back first. What we need is a plan."
Lance groaned dramatically and dropped his head back against the table.
"You idiots are gonna get us all killed."
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
Well, Shiro had certainly been in better situations. Sitting in the long, dark, hot, crowded hallway of the sheriff's station, surrounded by wailing children and sick, coughing people, next to Matt on a bench and waiting to be interrogated was not what he would call a good time. Then again he'd also been in much worse situations, so he should probably be a little bit grateful he's not dead or in a gunfight.
While they waited, they watched. Shiro had his eyes locked on the family across from them, a little boy with brown hair sitting in his mother's lap, face pale and his little body wracked with coughs. The mother was rubbing his back, humming a lullaby, but she couldn't stop the tears from leaking out of the his eyes when he coughed and it hurt him.
"This is a nightmare." He mumbled.
Matt was looking around in soldier mode, counting off exits and opponents and possible weapons and didn't get his meaning.
"Nothing points to us yet."
"That ain't what I meant."
At the end of the hall, where the building widened out into a room without a separating wall, the sheriff was finishing up with the man and woman he was questioning. Him and Matt would be next.
"Whatever happens, remember I love you."
Matt's head whipped around, eyes wide with alarm. "What?!"
Shiro raised his eyebrows pointedly. "Because you're my husband."
Matt blinked rapidly as he tried to compute the words that had just left Shiro's mouth. "Right… sir. I mean- honey?" He gave Shiro the most awkward attempt at a smile he'd ever seen in his life and if they hadn't been trying to talk their way out of this mess he would've laughed.
Before he could say anything else the sheriff was standing in front of them, consulting a list of passengers. His blonde hair was thinning and receding, his face seemed to sag, like a melting candle. His clothes were worn and dusty. He was probably no older than late thirties, but life on the border moons was tough and he was Exhibit A.
"Car three, row twelve." He read off the list. "Mr. and Mr. Raymond?"
Shiro tucked his hands under his thighs and plastered his best innocent, confused, anxious expression on his face.
"Can you tell us what's going on?" He asked the sheriff plaintively. "We've been here for so long. Did someone on the train get killed?"
The sheriff handed off the list to his deputy, the woman from before, and shook his head at the question.
"No no, nothin' like that." He waved his hand for them to follow, and Shiro and Matt obligingly got to their feet to follow the man towards his desk. "Say's there your fare was paid for by a third party?"
"My uncle. It was a wedding gift." Shiro paused at the desk, pulled out one of the metal chairs for Matt, and saw him bit his lip to stifle the smirk as he sat. The sheriff sat on the other side of the rough wooden desk, carefully avoiding the chipped cup of coffee that sat waiting for him.
"Wedding gift? Spending your honeymoon in Paradiso?" The doubt was clear in his voice and Shiro couldn't blame him. Who would want to spend a vacation in a tiny, dusty colony town?
"Actually, we're here looking for work." Said Matt with a winning smile. He could be annoying, but Shiro had to admit he could also pull off charming and innocent even better than he could.
"That right?"
"My uncle said," Shiro had already wracked his brain for a plausible name, an excuse along the lines that Matt had created. "He knew a Joey Bloggs out here, said he might have an opening. Thought we'd try our luck."
The sheriff raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. On the right arm of his jacket was a star patch, indicating his position.
"You a miner by trade? Either of you?"
"Not really." Shiro admitted, and Matt shook his head.
"Hmmmm." The man's eyes turned sharp. "Haven't seen many folk choose this life that weren't born to it."
Matt came up with an excuse first. "Work is real scarce for a couple," His tone stuttered a bit on the word, "Just startin' out."
Shiro glanced around the room again. There were so many sick, miserable people, probably waiting to be given the medicine that they'd stolen off the train. His throat closed up.
"Why are there so many sick here?" He found himself asking.
The sheriff sighed despondently. "Bowden's malady. Know what that is?"
Shiro didn't, but as usual Matt did.
"Affliction of the bone and muscle." He said like he was reciting from a textbook. "Degenerative."
"Very." Agreed the sheriff. "Every planet that's been terraformed for human life has its own… little quirks, I suppose you could say. Turns out the air down underground mixed up with the ore processors- Perfect recipe for Bowden's." He reached into his pocket and produced a carton of cigarettes and a box of matches. "Everybody gets it. Miners, dumpers. Hell I got it and I ain't never set foot in a mine."
"But it's treatable." Said Matt with a frown.
The sheriff struck the match on the desk and raised it to the cigarette between his lips. "There's medicine." He mumbled around it. "Pescaline." Smoke puffed out of his mouth when he took a drag, and Shiro felt Matt's eyes on him.
"At least you can live like a person if you get it regular, but our shipment got stole, right off the train you was ridin' in. Which is why you won't be seein' a parade in town today."
"Stolen." Shiro repeated in a grave tone, as though he didn't already know that damn well. "Well, didn't I see an entire regiment of fine, young Garrison federals on that train?"
The sheriff snorted and rolled his eyes and that was definitely a mood Shiro could get behind.
"That you did. Same regiment let their medicine get swiped right out from under their noses then took off for their own camp without so much as a whoopsy-daisy."
"Sounds like the Garrison." Shiro can't help it, even though it's entirely his fault the medicine didn't get to the town and not the Garrison's, he just can't pass up the opportunity to trash talk them. "Unite all the planets under one rule so everyone can be interfered with or ignored equally."
The sheriff got to his feet, wincing a bit as he shuffled around to the side of the desk and perched himself on the edge. He was positioning himself closer to Shiro, putting himself higher, trying to look more intimidating. That was not good.
"Garrison ain't much use to us out here on the border planets." He grunted as he settled. "But they ain't the ones who stole the medicine."
Ouch. Right.
He leaned forward, looked Shiro dead in the eye as he inhaled on his cigarette. "I ever find those people, they ain't never gonna see the inside of a jail. I'm just gonna toss 'em in a mine, let 'em breathe deep for the rest of their lives."
Shiro didn't break eye contact. "Can't argue with that."
Suddenly the sheriff grimaced and clutched at his thigh. Probably his Bowden's if what he'd said was true, and Shiro felt the sympathetic pang in his arm all the way to his nonexistent fingertips. Damn phantom pains.
"You mind tellin' me when it was," He ground out through gritted teeth, "You last spoke to Joey Bloggs?"
Aw hell, he'd talked himself into a corner, hadn't he?
"Never did myself."
"Right. Your uncle." The disbelief was back, but at least he was playing along for now. "Now, it was indicated to you that he had an opening?"
"Any job would do."
"That's funny," He puffed on his cigarette again, "That your uncle never went to mentioning the Bowden's problem, or that Joey Bloggs ate his own gun about eight months back."
Both he and Matt paused, and he could only hope his expression didn't betray the oh shit moment he'd just had.
He cleared his throat. "Did he?"
"Yep. Blew the back of his head right off."
"So… would his job be open?"
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
Keith paced the length of the bridge, back and forth, back and forth. Pidge was crumpled in the copilots seat, and the two of them had spent the last hour bouncing plausible ideas between each other. Pidge wanted to be cautious and wait to see if they could get themselves out on their own, but Keith was itching out of his skin to just go down there and pull them out by any means necessary.
His mood did not improve when Lance hopped his way onto the bridge with his leg thoroughly wrapped in gauze, Coran hurrying along behind him and urging him to sit down. His pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Ok, seriously, we need to go, Zarkon's gonna be pissed-"
"No rutting way." Keith snapped, planting himself between Lance and the controls with arms crossed. He heard Pidge get to her feet behind him.
"We can't leave Shiro and Matt." She snapped, just as Hunk came rushing up the stairs to join the party.
"We won't leave them." Lance argued back. "We can go back for them after but we cannot miss this job, Shiro would make the same decision."
"He would not!" Keith may have been angry with Shiro at the moment, but he still knew him, and the crew's safety was always Shiro's top priority. "And I'm not movin' this ship until we have them back."
Lance glared at him. "I know how to fly a ship too, ya know."
Keith felt the cruel sneer curl his lip, saw Lance's eyes flicker. "Try it then." He was so not above stabbing Lance if he had to.
"Enough!" Allura's voice rang through the crowded room, drawing all of their eyes to the door where she stood with a disdainful expression, hands on her hips. "Fighting will solve nothing!"
"I suppose you have an idea, then, Princess?" Keith knows he's being mean, but at the moment he couldn't care less, and Allura just puts her shoulders back in that regal pose that earned her the nickname.
"As a matter of fact, I do. Would you like to continue arguing like a bunch of children, or would you like to hear it?"
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
This room is very much brown. Brown walls, brown floor, people in brown clothes, brown, brown, brown. So when there's a flash of blue at the door, damn right Shiro noticed it.
He peered around Matt from their position on their bench, and his jaw dropped to the floor. Allura of all people had just waltzed in, clad in all her finest frippery. The floor length satin gown she wore brushed over the dirt floor, the white cape around her shoulders definitely getting dust all over it. As usual she looked flawless, stunning, radiant, all those words but she definitely should not be doing it here. Everyone in the room was staring and she was going to blow their cover!
Shiro got to his feet, made his way over to her. "What the hell are you-"
Her hand flew, impacting him squarely across the cheek and whipping his head to the side. The sound silenced the whole building, and he and Matt stared at each other wide eyed. He'd just been slapped. By Allura.
"Don't you dare speak to me!" She snarled, whirling on her heel to face the sheriff who had come up on the scene. "Sheriff, I want this man bound by law at once." Then, seemingly remembering herself, she gentled her tone. "That is, assuming he hasn't been already."
"No one's been bound." Said the sheriff, considering the spectacle before him. "Not yet."
"Thank God you stopped them." She turned a hateful glare back to Shiro. "Did you honestly think you could access my accounts and I wouldn't find you? And Matthew-"
His eyes widened as Allura whirled on him next.
"What would your husband think if he knew you were here?"
His eyes flicked to a stunned Shiro, back to Allura, back to Shiro. "I… I was weak." He stuttered out, then slowly, jerkily forced his eyes down in fake submission. Possibly the worst performance Shiro had ever seen in his life.
"So I take it they ain't newly weds." Said the sheriff with an amused look. Allura scoffed, full of derision. Jeez, she was a much better actor than either of them.
"Hardly. Takashi is my indentured man-"
A cold shock went down his spine, and he completely missed the rest of Allura's sentence as he sucked in a deep breath. It had been a long, long, long while since anyone had called him just by his first name. Not since Adam.
When he tuned back into reality the sheriff was hissing at the group of men who'd gathered to oogle Allura.
"Pardon them." He said as politely as he could to her. "Don't think a one of them's seen a registered Companion before."
Allura gave him that warm smile she was so good at. "I apologize for my manner. Should I contact my ship? Do you need to keep them much longer?"
The sheriff shifted on his feet. "Looks to me like we're just about done here. We had some, uh, unrelated trouble, but they're free to go."
"Thank you very much, Sheriff." Allura's voice turned stern when she looked back at Shiro. "Come along."
And so that's how Shiro and Matt escaped their predicament- by slinking out of the building behind Allura, tails between their legs.
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
It's dark by the time the shuttle clicks back into place on the Golden Lion. The entire crew was waiting for them on the catwalk, and Hunk immediately rushed forward when the shuttle doors slid open.
"How did it go?" He questioned anxiously, just as Shiro brushed quickly past Allura, heading for the stairs down to the hold.
"She hit me."
Allura and Pidge traded quiet snickers as they all followed him down the stairs.
"Kept the engine running." Keith called to him, apparently abandoning his cold shoulder, at least for now. "We're good to go."
"We're not goin'."
"Not… what?" Lance asked. He was hopping down the stairs after the others, his wrapped leg slowing him down. "Not… why?"
"We're bringin' the cargo back." Explained Matt. Shiro had reached the cargo hold floor and now strode for the cargo, still sitting in the middle of the room where it had been left, wrapped in it's netting. Matt joined him, helping him pull it free.
"What?" Keith rushed up beside him, looking at Shiro like he'd lost his mind. "What about Zarkon?"
"There's others need this more." Is all Shiro said in way of explanation. "Let's get it on the mule."
"My shuttle's faster." Allura chimed in, but Shiro shook his head at the suggestion.
"You risked enough flying in there once. Also, I don't wanna get slapped around no more."
More snickers.
"Far as Zarkon goes, we'll explain to him that the job went south when we return the money."
"Uh, Shiro?" Lance is still on the landing above, staring with wide eyes at the open gangplank of the ship. "If you wanna explain, now's your chance."
Shiro looked up, and his heart dropped. Coming up the gangplank was Myzax, armed to the teeth with so many knives he looked like a haystack made of needles and backed by four smaller but no less dangerous men.
Coran immediately retreated into the hall to the kitchen, hiding himself away lest they recognize him for the bounty. Thankfully Myzax didn't seem to notice the burst of movement.
"You didn't make the rendezvous."
"Ran into a few complications." Said Shiro, walking forward a few paces to stand between Myzax and the rest of the crew.
"You're thinking of taking Zarkon's money, and his property." Myzax pulled that wicked knife Shiro had noticed the other day and ran his thumb over the blade. Shiro's eyes flicked to it for barely a moment.
"Uh, interestingly, neither."
Myzax's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."
"Deal's off." Myzax just frowned at him, still confused. "We changed our minds."
Myzax shook his big head. "You made a deal with Zarkon. There is no mind changing."
Shiro raised a challenging eyebrow. "I'm afraid that's where you're wrong. We can't take this job, so you just relax, we'll give you the money Zarkon gave us, you return it, and we'll call it even."
"There is no even." Said Myzax with a sneer.
Damnit, nothing is ever easy.
"Is that so?"
Myzax didn't bother continuing the conversation. With a quick flick of his wrist, faster than Shiro could track, he whipped the knife he was holding in Shiro's direction. It embedded right into his right shoulder, above the prosthetic, and he shouted at the starburst of pain.
Bang. Matt's pistol took down one of the men right off of the bat as they rushed in after their leader. Hunk dove for cover, Allura grabbed Pidge by the arm and hauled her down behind some crates as bullets exploded around the room.
Matt quickly found himself some cover, settling in for a stand off against the two remaining men while Myzax went after Shiro. And man, this guy did not pull his punches. Shiro was already dazed by the pain in his arm and took blow after blow, feeling like he was being hit by a train every time, ironically enough. He got close, pulled him forward and slammed their foreheads together, making Shiro's vision blur before Myzax grabbed hold of the knife and ripped it free.
One of his men screamed and he glanced over his shoulder, giving Shiro the opportunity to land a kick. He wasn't fazed, he didn't stumble, he merely grabbed Shiro by his shirt and threw him against the crates, sending him toppling to the floor.
Then Myzax was looming over him, the knife glinting as he raised it high for the killing blow- and another gunshot echoed through the room. Myzax bellowed in pain, dropping to the floor to cradle his shot out knee, and Shiro scrambled to his feet to plant a boot on Myzax's chest and keep him down.
The cargo hold was a right mess. Lance was above them still, armed with his rifle and smirking at the shot he'd landed on Myzax. Matt was on the other side of the room with an unconscious man sprawled at his feet. Standing on the gangplank was Keith, spattered with blood after he'd opened the last goon's throat with his own blade.
Well, add that onto the list of things to do. Return the medicine, send Zarkon's living goons back with the money, dispose of corpses, clean blood off of the floor.
Great.
? ゚フフ? ゚フフ?
The next day Shiro didn't get out of bed until noon. They were already in deep space, heading for their next destination, their next job, and even when he finally dragged himself out of his quarters there wasn't anything anyone needed him to do. So he made himself a cup of shitty preserved powdered coffee and sat in the dining room, enjoying what little peace and quiet he could before everything inevitably went to hell again.
His shoulder twinged when he raised the cup for a drink, and he made a mental note to get some more pain meds from Coran sometime in the next few hours.
"Shiro?"
Looking up, there was Keith hovering in the doorway, and Shiro raised an eyebrow. This conversation could go one of two ways, and he wasn't sure he had the energy for another fight at the moment.
Keith stepped into the room. He was frowning, but not angrily. Over the years Shiro had learned to interpret Keith's many varieties of frown, and this one was more contemplative than anything else.
"Yeah?"
"I've… just been thinking. You took the medicine back because it was the right thing to do, right?"
Shiro nodded, unsure of where Keith was heading with this. He himself didn't seem sure, hesitating before speaking again.
"And… is that the same reason you let Coran stay on board?"
Oh, so this was about Coran.
"Yes." He answered honestly. "I figure someone's gotta at least try to do something about the Galra, otherwise people'll just keep dying."
Keith turned this over in his mind for a moment. Then he pulled out one of the mismatched chairs and sat at the other end of the table, releasing a shaky breath as he stared down at the scratched wood. Shiro waited patiently.
"I'm not angry with you." He said eventually. One of his hands closed around his pendant. "I guess I'm just… worried."
No one wants to admit when they're scared.
"Glad we made that distinction." Shiro answered with only the slightest hint of flippancy. Keith rolled his eyes at him nonetheless.
"I'm tryin' to apologize, húndàn."
"Really? Coulda fooled me."
Keith huffed, making his bangs floof a bit off of his forehead. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry. I was bein' a dick."
"Apology accepted."
For the next hour or so, before things inevitably spiraled out of control again, they sat in comfortable silence.
(A/N Chinese Translations:
mei-mei- little sister
Qǐng zài lái yī bēi Ng-gaa-pei- Give me another glass of Wujiapi (a drink).
Ō, zhè zhēn shì gè kuàilè de guòchéng- Oh, now this is a really happy development
Qǐngjìn- come in
húndàn- asshole/bastard
UNC-
Silence)
