Arusian Crusade: Deployment
Chapter 10: Breathing Room
I should probably go ahead and admit that I don't actively ship anyone. So I'm just going to try to throw some hints in for everyone! Flawless logic!
Thanks once again for the reviews, and apologies for this being a little behind schedule. Colds suck. Bleh.
They gathered in castle control, the mood dark but not without hope. The Drules had been forced to retreat. It was a good start.
"There is no doubt they'll call for reinforcements. The fleet they sent is ill-equipped to deal with the lions, and they certainly won't just send the remnants back as is." Coran frowned. "It takes ten hours to reach Arus from Doom by jumpgate, so we should at least have that much time."
Lieutenant Kogane nodded. "Good. We could use some time to get used to these lions now that we know what they are. And which ones we're supposed to be flying." He looked at the black key in his hand. The first thing the pilots had done upon returning to the control room was swap keys around, explaining that they'd trained on specific lions.
And every one of them had taken on the proper element... there was no question in Allura's mind now that destiny was watching over them. Though she wondered why that destiny had demanded the fall of her world. What did we do to deserve such punishment and redemption? Or is destiny just another word for dumb luck after all?
She shook it off and studied the pilots. Ten hours from Doom to Arus. Not to mention the escape, the ejection, the shock of discovery and their first run in the lions. They didn't look tired, not exactly, but when she stretched her focus she could feel the waves of exhaustion flowing through the room. They had no clear source and it didn't really matter. That they were there was enough.
"You must rest, Lieutenant."
He paused as if that thought hadn't even occurred to him. "I... we... um."
"She's right, Keith." His dark-armored second spoke quietly. "You know she's right."
"I know, but..." Sigh. The commander looked at Coran. "We need to ask you something. And I for one don't think I can settle down until we have the answer... not to mention it's something we'll need to know if Doom's fleet does come back early. Please. We can rest after that."
Coran nodded. "Of course. Go ahead."
"When we were training back at the academy, the ships—the lions, rather—had two different cockpit configurations, one which required a close formation and caused a lot of piloting difficulty. We took to calling that secondary version omega protocols."
"And they were awful," McClain pitched in, drawing nods from everyone but Kogane, who just shot him an irritated look and continued.
"Our training officer didn't know the details either, but said King Alfor promised the omega protocols would make sense when we reached Arus."
Omega protocols. Since she knew all the details of the project, Allura really hadn't stopped to think how it might come across to the warriors training for it, a galaxy away and blind to the truth. And she hadn't known how much—or how little—information had been relayed to the Alliance to begin with. To hear how they'd coped with it interested her. The reality would defy belief, but the mystery had to be maddening.
As much as she would have enjoyed staying for the explanation, she realized there was much to be arranged to make the pilots comfortable in the castle. They really hadn't been expecting guests; the inbound Alliance force had been reported missing in action, after all, and there were more important things to worry about.
I should be here... but I should be elsewhere. Ugh! Forget ruling a planet, I can't even keep my priorities straight ruling a castle!
Right now responsibilities came first. She was the princess, and she would take care of these warriors under her command. "I'm going to go have some rooms prepared," she said quietly, and excused herself.
There was only one place to go for such matters. One person to go to, rather. Allura found her already bustling about in the castle's most intact supply center, probably after just completing yet another round of laundry that didn't really need to be done. The work was a distraction.
Distractions were important.
"Lady Hys?"
The plump woman moving amongst the shelves raised her head. "Princess, please, I have told you a thousand times..."
"I'm sorry, Nanny." Lady Nanette Hys had, at one point, been a minor noblewoman of the Yazata province. The Drule attack had both leveled her own territory and killed most of the staff at the Castle of the Elements; she'd taken the castle's domestic matters upon herself ever since. And she did nothing in half measures. "I'm surprised to find you here."
"Well, I've only just returned to work after the alarms went off. Another false positive, I trust?"
"Not exactly. Did you not hear the doors open?"
Laughter. "Ach, no. I do apologize. I don't hear a thing when I'm busy working, you know. More refugees, I hope?" Even now, survivors still trickled into the castle, though the rate had slowed to one every few days. Most inhabitants of the province were either dead or had already found shelter.
Allura shook her head. "The Arus Expeditionary Force has finally arrived."
The other woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "What kept them?"
Wince. They wouldn't have arrived in time anyway... we'd only heard of their departure the week before Zarkon attacked. She didn't voice it. Lady Hys had lost nearly everything as well; she put on a brave front, but who could blame her for some bitterness? Still. "They were captured in transit, but escaped enslavement on Doom to reach us."
Immediately the woman's entire demeanor changed. "Those poor souls... such a terrible ordeal!" Bitter she may have been, but her better instincts still kicked in quickly. "I'll start a meal right away, they must be starving—"
"Right now they just want to sleep," Allura interrupted gently. It probably wasn't worth mentioning that the lions and their pilots had just seen combat with a Drule armada, and would be seeing it again in a matter of hours. "Can we prepare some rooms for them?"
"Of course, of course! I'll have it done in no time." Nanny put away the last batch of napkins and moved on to where the bedclothes were kept. "Best to use the eastern wing, it's the most intact, several of the diplomatic rooms are still reasonably furnished..."
"I'd like to help." I need to do something useful with myself.
"Now there's no need for that." Turning, she caught the look on Allura's face. "But if you insist, the pillows are stacked off in the corner, be a dear and put pillowcases on for me. How many of them are there? Five, correct?"
Grateful for the work, the princess didn't even bother questioning Nanny's definition of 'corner', which most definitely was not where two walls met. "Five, yes."
"And what are they like?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow. "Fine, handsome young men, I hope?"
Allura blinked. She was pretty sure she would regret answering that question no matter how she answered it. "They... seem quite formidable, and bear the power of the elements," she finally offered.
The lady snorted and waved that off as she began pulling sheets from the shelves. "Ach, Princess! I have no doubt the Alliance sent skilled warriors. But I was hoping you might manage to find at least one of them attractive."
She felt a blush creeping over her face. "Nanny, I've barely even met them." Very true. And it wouldn't hurt to remind herself of that fact... the way that Kogane's dark curls and McClain's sparkling eyes immediately sprang to the front of her thoughts was not helping anything.
Something told her Nanny could see precisely what was going on in her mind; she chuckled as she finished choosing the sheets. "I suppose you'll have plenty of time yet."
Allura busied herself in a side closet, looking for pillowcases, mostly so her face was hidden among the shelves. Her blush had only intensified. I suppose you're probably right.
Coran looked over the pilots, then gestured to the monitor. "Alright. You must forgive me for how strange this will sound. It is the truth." He typed a few commands and an image appeared. A winged metal knight carrying a huge, ornate sword. Golden fire shot from its eyes, while the helmet, wrists, and feet bore the faces of snarling lions.
Pidge knew it immediately. In fact he was pretty sure he'd seen the exact same picture. "That's Voltron."
"Indeed. This image is probably the best-known artistic representation of Voltron. Having recovered the pieces we can confirm that it's pretty much accurate."
Something about that struck Pidge as odd, and he looked more carefully at the picture. The ancient knight's armor was black and silver, with red highlights. And that was it. Yet the key he was holding, matching the lion he would be driving, was green. "King Alfor found time to give the lions new paint jobs?"
"Not exactly. I'm sure you all caught glimpses of this in combat... each lion is bound to one of the five elements. Black Lion is infused with lightning, Red Lion with fire, Green Lion with wind, Blue Lion with water, and Yellow Lion with earth." As the advisor spoke, each lion appeared on the screen, with the image of the intact Voltron moving aside. "Their colors are a byproduct of the elemental bonds."
Elemental powers? "How in the world..." Technomysticism. Right. "Your science can bind nature to technology that strongly?"
"Hey, can we maybe get back on track here?" Lance made a show of suppressing a yawn. "I mean, this is all very interesting and I'd love to hear about it after a nap, but Keith won't let us sleep until we find out about omega formation. Not colors."
"Sorry."
Coran waited the discussion out, then motioned to the image of Voltron. "Sarga split the knight into five roughly equal pieces. Black Lion is formed from Voltron's head and torso. Red and Green Lions are constructed from the arms, while Blue and Yellow Lions were forged from the legs."
This was going somewhere. It had to be going somewhere. And there was one place Pidge could think of that seemed to logically flow from where they'd started, but it couldn't be... it was impossible at best, ridiculous at worst. And yet...
"The omega formation invokes Voltron's original form somehow?" Keith guessed.
Coran pressed a few buttons, and the images of the lions began to change. Reconfiguring. Four of the lions drew their limbs in, locking them back close to their bodies. Red and Green straightened out, while Blue and Yellow's heads pitched sharply upwards. Black Lion stretched out its paws, allowing the other four to connect, forming arms and legs on a figure suddenly more humanoid than feline.
Black Lion's lower jaw dropped, revealing a fierce, noble face with glowing eyes.
"What you call the omega formation is Voltron's original form."
There was an instant where Pidge's thoughts simply short-circuited. He stared at the artist's image, then at the multicolored representation, brain in a futile overdrive to understand it. To accept it. This mission was weird and unconventional, sure. The lions were amazing, obviously. But this... he wasn't sure if the technological or mythical aspects of the tale were harder to grasp.
All he knew was that it was beyond him.
He snapped out of it in time to note the reactions of his teammates. Lance swore. Sven whispered something unintelligible. Keith gawked. And Hunk's eyes lit up.
"This is for real?"
Coran nodded solemnly. "I'm sure it's difficult to—"
"Best. Assignment. Ever!" He swept his gaze over his teammates, who were all giving him rather odd looks. "Come on you guys, we've got five lion robots that turn into a giant demigod robot knight. You can't even pretend that's not awesome." Pause. "I mean, a little freaky and totally stretches suspension of disbelief, but still awesome."
Hunk's enthusiasm hit something in Pidge. Reawakening him... bringing him back to himself. The big guy was right. Ultimately it didn't matter where Voltron came from. It was a giant ass-kicking robot and they were going to be piloting it.
It was awesome.
"Explains all the glitchy movement in formation, doesn't it? The lions are all attached to each other."
"It does," Keith agreed softly. "And it explains the secrecy. Finding the pieces of Voltron would be bad enough. Reassembling him... the Drules aren't going to take that well at all."
Lance crossed his arms and smirked. "So we form Voltron, and either the Drules run home screaming, or we get to cut them into tiny pieces? Something like that? Sounds like a win-win. Next time they show up, we'll be all ready to tell them to get the hell off your lawn."
"Don't be too hasty." Coran's amber eyes were still fixed on the monitors. "You must understand the limitations of these craft. As I've said, Black Lion had barely been completed when Zarkon's forces struck. The full formation has never been tested, and truthfully, this short reprieve probably isn't the time to do it."
"But—"
"We'll save it for if we get desperate," Keith stated before anyone could lodge a full protest. "We don't even know the full capabilities of the individual lions. That's where we'll start, and the longer we can hold the full formation back, the—" A loud yawn from his left cut him off.
Hunk blushed as all eyes in the control room fell on him. "I'm sorry! I mean, epic as this is, it's been like thirty hours since we slept."
Their commander's pale eyes flickered back to the monitor for a minute, then he nodded. "You're right. This is a lot to take in, and it's been a very long few days... we'll sleep on it first."
Pidge didn't want to sleep. He wanted to get to Green Lion, his lion, and put it through its paces. See what it could do when he understood its full nature. Maybe try to pull some of its coding and technical data... even as he was thinking about it, he yawned too. Ack. Okay, maybe sleep is good.
The old advisor nodded his understanding. "Of course. The princess did say she would see about having rooms prepared for you. In the meantime," he cocked his head and studied them, "if you'd like me to arrange for some regular uniforms..."
Keith shook his head. "Don't trouble yourself. They're just clothes."
Before that conversation could go any further, Princess Allura appeared in the doorway with a curly-haired woman who wasn't much taller than Pidge himself. She somehow managed to look kindly and formidable in the same moment; a pristine white apron covered what looked like ragged noble's finery. Her eyes darted over the team quickly, just long enough to take them all in.
Coran smiled. "Warriors, I'd like you to meet our castle chief of staff, Lady Hys."
The woman favored the advisor with a scowl. "Precious little need for titles in this place, as you keep saying yourself, Baronet!" Her voice was low and rushed, with an accent unlike anything Pidge had heard before. She turned her attention to the pilots. "My name is Nanette, I must insist that you all call me Nanny. Come, your rooms are waiting." She turned, beckoning for them to follow, and swept from the control room before they could even attempt to introduce themselves in return.
"Well she's a little frightening," Sven mumbled.
Pidge nodded his agreement. "More than a little."
Standing just near enough to overhear, Allura made a sound that might have been a laugh. "She can certainly be intimidating, but she means well. She took over after Zarkon's attack and made things work pretty much through force of will... without her the Castle of the Elements would hardly be functional right now."
The navigator flinched. "No disrespect intended."
"Oh, don't worry, Sergeant. I had about the same reaction to her at first."
"Lions."
King Zarkon stood, eyes glowing fiercely, pacing before his throne. He avoided looking at Haggar, who in her centuries of service to him and his ancestors had never once been known to say I told you so, but probably deserved to now if ever. He also did not look at the image of Commander Cossack, hovering in midair from the comm crystal. He tried not to look at anything lest his blazing fury leap from his eyes and silence them. He needed his underlings to speak frankly now.
"Yes, my lord. Lion-shaped spacecraft, four of them, apparently under the control of the escaped slaves. The battle footage has been transmitted already. We have withdrawn to regroup at Castor."
With a mostly casual gesture Zarkon caused the footage in question to appear from another crystal, and observed the lions quietly. So this was the grand defense the Arusians had planned. The beasts were every bit as formidable as Cossack had reported.
But something was wrong.
"I personally interrogated King Alfor," he said softly, watching one of the lions clawing its way through a frigate. "He was stubborn. Self-righteous. But not foolish. Using our own legends to mock us seems like the work of a fool."
"I know only what I saw, my lord."
"Of course." Zarkon returned to his throne; the pacing was serving no purpose. "Haggar. Had you chosen a robeast for the humans to face in the arena?"
"Yes, sire."
"Dispatch it to Castor immediately... have a few of the battlemages augment the jumpgate. Commander Cossack, the closest garrison to you is at Nyx. Requisition what you think necessary from there; the robeast will be yours to command as well. I expect those lions to be destroyed when next we speak. Burn everything on Arus to the ground if you must!"
Cossack saluted. "It will be done!"
Only when the commander's image was long gone did Zarkon finally fix his gaze on Haggar. "This is the destiny you spoke of, then?"
"Perhaps. The slaves were far more than they appeared..." She didn't sound as confident as he would have liked, but the old witch had never been shy about admitting when things were beyond her. It was just that she so rarely had need to. "It is as you said, sire. King Alfor was no fool, and I believe we are missing a piece of the puzzle." Her eyes flickered. "The answer may be known to the Unfathomable One. Shall I contact her?"
The king nodded. Only Sarga's mightiest channelers could call on the goddess directly, but Haggar most certainly qualified as that. "Send the robeast first, then go ahead. Report as soon as you are able."
"Of course." She swept from the throne room, leaving her king alone to brood.
Lions.
What foolishness have you brought down your head, Alfor of Arus? You were a worthy foe, no doubt, but you've overstepped your bounds from your grave!
The team had been given the run of the castle, such as it was, and for the most part managed not to get too lost. When they gathered again, they were back in their flight suits, each having come to the same conclusion: all the time spent on Doom had rendered their civilian clothes entirely unsalvageable.
Lance suggested, only half-jokingly, that a ceremonial burning might be in order. Despite himself Keith had agreed; much as he might doubt the practicality of the disposal method, it would help the team unwind and perhaps even relax a bit. Something they all needed quite desperately.
They were gathered around the resulting bonfire in the castle courtyard when Nanny appeared, hauling a large bundle of supplies and what looked like a cooking grate. Allura was trailing behind her with an armful of firewood.
"I think we've got enough fuel," Keith protested, "no sense wasting that right now."
The princess waved that off and began arranging the wood in a circle several meters from the already blazing bonfire. "This is cinderpine, a traditional Arusian cooking wood. We thought you might appreciate some food while you were out here."
"Someone say cookout? I'll help!" Hunk volunteered immediately. "Cookouts are kind of my thing."
"Food in general is kind of his thing," Pidge stage-whispered, drawing laughs from the rest of the team—the loudest from Hunk himself.
Raising an eyebrow as the big engineer walked over, Nanny tried to wave him off. "Oh no you don't. You five have quite enough to worry about. Sit back and let an expert handle the cooking."
Hunk glowered back at the woman, who was perhaps half his size but didn't look the least bit intimidated. "No no no, Lady Nanny. Princess says you've been looking after the castle since the Drules hit. You need a break. So you sit down and let me show you how campfire cookin' is done!"
"Ooh, it's on," Lance snickered.
Nanny put her hands on her hips. "What would a soldier know about cooking?"
"That sounds like a challenge."
"Ach, that most certainly is a challenge!"
Hunk saluted the woman with a skewer. "Then may the best chef win! ...Amateur."
Keith shook his head, watching the two stake out opposite sides of the fire. "This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship."
"The last time I heard you say that," Sven muttered, "we were hearing about crush cars for a month."
"Hey! Do not rag on the crush cars..." Lance trailed off as Allura walked over to the spot Hunk had vacated. "You gonna join us, Princess?"
"If you don't mind."
"Pfft. I don't mind the rest of these clowns, I surely don't mind you."
Smooth, Lance. Real smooth. Keith resisted the urge to throw something at him. Preferably something that was on fire. His friend was getting way too friendly, way too quickly. And sure, that was what Lance did, but... here it seemed like an intrusion.
For his own part, he still couldn't quite figure out how to react to the princess. Monarchy had not existed on Earth for hundreds of years, but the ancient stories remained. Keith had grown up fascinated by those tales of knights and champions and the glory of the crown... silly, outdated fantasies, suddenly brought to life before him.
He was born to be a soldier. And soldiers needed an ideal to serve.
From the way she acted, Keith wondered if seeing the princess as an ideal rather than a person might be doing her a disservice. But he couldn't seem to help it.
Whatever his commander's concerns, Lance was ignoring them. Shocker. He'd actually stopped focusing on Allura altogether, because the robot mice had all filed into the courtyard and were now sitting beside the bonfire, calm and well-behaved as intelligent sentient beings.
Sentient beings, anyway. Keith had his reasons to doubt 'intelligent' even applied to his team sometimes.
"So, squirt, I hear you named the robo-rodent you were off frolicking with while the rest of us were out killing Drules." Lance was the only member of the team who could get away with calling Pidge 'squirt'. Probably because he was the only one with enough nerve to try it in the first place.
"Oh, we've named all of them," the little engineer countered, patting the mouse beside him. "I mean, mostly Hunk named them, but they've all got names. The black one's Cheddar, the green one's Colby, the yellow one's Swiss, the red one's Pepper Jack... and the blue one's Sven's ridiculous idea."
The dark-eyed pilot looked up. "Now wait just a minute..." Realizing everyone was staring at him now, he sighed and withdrew the death glare he'd been giving his squadmate. "Its name is Blue, and I still think it's funny."
Keith snorted. That was pretty much typical of their navigator's sense of humor.
"Well played sir, well played." Lance chuckled. "Certainly beats Pepper Jack. Don'tcha think, little dude? C'mere and—OW!" As he reached out to the red-eyed mouse, it clamped its teeth down on his hand with a cheerful squeak.
"Yeah, uh, that one's a little feisty," Pidge warned unnecessarily.
"So I see. Thanks."
Allura's eyes widened as Pepper Jack retreated, and crimson blood bubbled up from the bite marks it left behind. "Let me have a look at that..." She trailed off and looked at Lance with a flicker of confusion. "Ah... McClain? You didn't mention your rank."
"Oh! Sorry. Specialist." He winked as he extended his hand. "But you're more than welcome to just call me Lance if you want."
Keith gritted his teeth and barely refrained from slapping his friend to shut him up. "Lance, I highly suggest you—"
He was cut off by a gentle hand on his shoulder: Sven, trying to calm him down. He didn't really want to be calmed down and shook it off, only to have his second give him a scolding look. "Honestly, he might have a point, Keith. I can do without being called Sergeant for this entire assignment."
"Yeah," Hunk agreed with a shrug. "Not like we've ever been all that hung up on ranks ourselves."
True enough, but they hadn't been dealing with royalty before, either. Yet... even without asking Pidge about it he was outvoted, and Keith was pretty sure he knew which side Pidge would take. "I suppose you're right." He looked to the princess, who'd wrapped a strip of cloth around Lance's wound and was now watching the proceedings with an expression of faint amusement. "Of course it's entirely up to you, Princess."
She smiled. It was the first time he'd seen a genuine smile out of her since they'd landed, and it shocked him—not just by its radiance, but by the fact that such antics had brought it out of her. "If you're certain you don't mind... Keith."
To his own surprise, he suddenly didn't mind. At all. "I'm certain."
A searching look. "And you'll call me Allura, I hope."
...Walked right into that, didn't I? "I..."
"Most of us can handle that, Allura." Lance gave her another wink. "Give Keith some time, he's big on the chivalry thing."
Keith wouldn't admit it, but despite the playful mockery he was actually grateful for Lance's backup. It seemed to be good enough for the princess as well; she looked at him and nodded. "I don't want any of you to feel uncomfortable. I just don't have much experience with warriors, and much less with alie... foreigners." She raised her eyes to the sky. Twilight was falling. "Do let me know if I'm out of line."
If she's out of line? Really?
"Oy! You guys ready for food?" Hunk yelled, just before the silence became awkward. He had a plate of what looked like some native style of burger patties and was glowering at Nanny on the other side of the cooking grate. "Because I'm expecting all of you to come back me up."
Oh boy. Looking from the engineer who was supposed to have his back in combat to the woman who was apparently in charge of the castle's food and laundry, Keith decided he was probably going to be eating quite a lot from now on.
Just to be safe.
Considering they'd just torched their only clothes, Coran's offer of regular uniforms no longer seemed like such a bad idea, and they trooped back to the armory again. Arusian military uniforms were styled similarly to the flight suits, except the base color was dark gray rather than white, and they lacked armor.
An unspoken agreement made them all pick uniforms in the colors of their lions, rather than their flight suits. Coran gave them an odd look when they came out, but said nothing. Probably wise.
Turned out Lance had been holding out on them; he was wearing his old leather jacket over his new red uniform. "Weren't you supposed to burn that?" Keith inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Keith, Keith, Keith." The pilot patted him patiently on the head. "The day will come that you understand how fashion trumps all."
"Oh for... get stuffed, Lance."
"I am stuffed. Nanny's no Hunk, but damn, those Arusian spice rolls are something special."
Lance would think so, Sven mused. He suspected the better word for the recipe might be 'lethal', but couldn't say for certain—he'd learned the hard way, years ago, not to even attempt eating anything Lance considered sufficiently spicy.
"Yeah, special." Hunk snorted. "Except for the batch she set on fire. Just like I said. Amateur."
Pidge giggled and slapped the big engineer's arm. "We all saw you drop that match on her side, Hunk."
"...I did no such thing."
"Uh huh."
Keith buried his face in his hands. "Children, you realize we have something like three hours until a Doom armada falls on our heads."
"Yeah, and three hours is a ton of time. I'm gonna go walk dinner off." Lance pulled his jacket tighter around himself. "Don't worry, I won't be long. You know I wouldn't miss out on another glorious round of Drule-killing."
"Lance—"
"Let him go, Keith," Sven whispered, not that it really mattered. The red-suited pilot was already gone.
Stopping, their commander looked to Pidge and Hunk. Something flickered through his pale eyes, a crackle of lightning, then it vanished. It meant a decision had been made... a snap decision, but one that was absolute. "Okay, how about this. You two head for the workshop. Black Lion's still holed up in there, it'll be the easiest to work with. We all know you're both dying to start running diagnostics."
Pidge smirked. "Glad you noticed."
"I'll meet you there in a few minutes and fire Black up to play guinea pig for you. We'll take an hour or so to settle down and see what these things are made of, then start planning for combat."
The two engineers nodded, then broke into a run, throwing all dignity to the wind in the race to reach the fascinating spacecraft first. Sven couldn't help a slight chuckle.
"They're adorable when they're excited."
"Adorable." Keith laughed as well. "I don't believe you just used that word."
And there went the English again. "Was it wrong?"
"No."
"Oh."
They were both quiet for a minute, standing alone in the hallway, Keith tugging uncomfortably at his dark bracers. Then he smiled faintly. "So Lance thinks I need to figure out fashion. Here's my first stab at it, blue suits you a lot better than him."
"I don't know how to take that."
"I think the best way is to forget I said it." Keith's smile vanished in an instant. "Lance isn't okay."
"No, he's not. I'll take care of it."
"You'll take care of it?"
"Yes. I've been meaning to talk to him for awhile, honestly."
Keith nodded slowly. "I... I should talk to him, Sven. It's my job."
"You can't do everything, Keith."
His friend met his gaze, tentatively. Keith was a good commander, but his weakness had always been trust. Not trusting his friends with his thoughts. No, he could do that when called upon. Not trusting his squadmates to have his back. That was implicit. Trusting that anything could get done without his personal attention, though... that was beyond him. Keith did not delegate. He had to see it himself.
If Sven were a little less confident, if he'd understood his commander a little less well, he would have found that fact thoroughly insulting. As it was he just found it...
Sad.
"I should be able to do everything," Keith sighed.
"No you shouldn't."
To his surprise, the other pilot nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. Go on, Sven... I promised to help Pidge and Hunk geek out, and they'll kill me if I keep them waiting." He grinned. "I'm good now."
You can fake it, anyway. Sven nodded and turned away. When Keith wanted to talk, Keith would show up and talk. Whereas Lance...
You kind of had to club Lance over the head if you wanted to show concern for him.
The castle was silent, eerie. Every time he turned a corner Sven half expected to see a ghost coming at him from the other direction. Ghosts... he'd had nightmares about ghosts. Ghosts with piercing eyes, blacker and more infinite than the all-devouring darkness of the galactic core...
After all the team had gone through on Doom, he couldn't help feeling mildly irritated that it was a ghost giving him the creeps. King Alfor was on their side. He was not to be feared. But it was not the dead king himself who sent shudders down Sven's spine.
Trying to imagine... falling in battle, but existing in spirit to see the aftermath. Watching helplessly as alien warriors tried to save a world that wasn't theirs, and uphold a mission that none of the living fully understood. The darkness should be the darkness. Ghosts should not have to see the world without them; such a fate seemed far more cruel than mere death.
His thoughts were mercifully cut short when he found a slender form in a leather jacket standing on one of the observation decks.
Lance was staring up at the volcano. "Shield volcano," he identified it as Sven walked up. "They can erupt for years at a time, and it must be in one of those cycles now. That's why the lava's able to stay exposed like that. Just keeps coming. It's called an effusive eruption."
Sven nodded. Lance wasn't stupid; he'd thrown himself into all his studies, even the most unpleasant electives, with the same fervor he showed for piloting. Or Drule-killing. But whatever knowledge he'd gained from all that he usually preferred to keep to himself... explanation and exposition were left to others, because he had better things to do.
He was definitely not okay.
"You didn't come out here for a lecture on geology," Lance guessed after a few moments.
"No, not really."
"You're probably also not here to tell me there's an incoming attack and I need to get to my lion right now."
"No, not that either."
"You came to ask how I'm doing, because you aren't convinced by how much I've been appearing to enjoy killing Drules so far."
"You got it."
Lance sighed, turned to face him, and leaned back against the railing, draping his arms over the edge. "And you're not going to tell Keith anything I may or may not tell you, because he'd freak out and worry about silly little things like codes of honor and my mental health. Whereas you don't care as long as I'm functional."
Flinch. "What did I do to deserve that?"
"Wasn't a criticism. You know what I think about this touchy-feely stuff."
Ah. Right. There was that. "On your own time, anyway." He remembered an aurora-lit night in Norway, where a visceral fear of colored flame in the sky had driven Lance to get very 'touchy-feely' indeed, but saw no need to drive the point in further.
His friend gave him a sharp look, but then grinned and offered a salute. "Touche."
"So." Sven crossed his arms. "What's going on that would have Keith worrying about your mental health?" A wicked flicker in Lance's eyes and he added quickly, "More than he usually does."
"Oh, come on. We're having this conversation, you at least could've given me the easy joke." With another sigh, Lance turned his gaze on the floor. "I just thought... I thought that killing them would make me feel better. I have a purpose, I'm not just getting off on watching blue-skinned monsters bleed." He clenched his fists. "I won't stop. I won't stop until every single one of them is punished. But it's not what I expected. Not what I hoped for."
Once the admission was out there, Sven found himself with a slight problem. This was precisely what he'd come out here to deal with, and he abruptly realized he had no idea how to go about it. The hard part was supposed to be getting Lance to talk. Answers would just come naturally.
Except they weren't.
He would have to wing it. Not something he was comfortable with, but that was really only fair at this stage. And all he could do was try to put things in his own context. "It's probably just as well you don't enjoy the actual killing. There's nothing good down that path." He did not make eye contact. "Lance... the people you're fighting for... would they be proud of you?"
"Proud?" A startled look. "I, um... I never really thought about it that way." He paused. "I don't know, Sven. I'd like to think they'd be happy, knowing they've been avenged. I'd like to think they'd feel better knowing that at least some Drules can't threaten innocent people anymore. But proud..." The pilot turned a rare, pensive look to the floor. "I don't know if what I'm doing is something to be proud of. It's just something I have to do."
Sven nodded and wished he could say he understood. "Lance... look at me." He reached out and touched Lance's arm, waiting until his friend's eyes lifted. The ever-present spark in them had dimmed, smoldering, wavering on that boundary between surging back into flame and being utterly extinguished. There was something terrifying about that thought. "Are you going to be okay?"
"If I say yes, will you believe me?"
"No."
Lance smiled weakly, put a hand on his shoulder. His grip was like iron. "Do you remember when Keith first found out we knew each other?"
Sven hesitated. That had come out of nowhere. "What, you mean the time you called me a coward and I threatened to break every bone in your body? The time he probably saved your life?"
"Yeah." The other warrior actually laughed. "Do you remember why I called you a coward?"
Another hesitation. Longer this time. He didn't... hard as it was to admit, he truly didn't. All he remembered was the insult, the retaliation, Keith barging in and throwing them apart before either could do something they'd regret. "No," he admitted softly.
"I told you I didn't understand how you could see learning to kill those blue-skinned bastards as such a chore... and you said it was because you didn't want to kill anybody." He was still laughing. Almost manic. "I understand now, Sven. I understand. Killing them doesn't help anything, does it? It doesn't solve anything at all!"
"Lance..."
Lance's gaze hardened. The laughter stopped. Almost like flipping a switch. "Promise you won't let me go too far, Sven. Promise. I don't want to hear about ethics or sanity... I just want to stay who I am."
Help you stay who you are? It hit him harder than he could've imagined. I can do that... but who you are is falling apart. He didn't voice it. Not here, not yet. They could deal with that when the danger was a little less imminent. For now...
"I promise."
As they stood there in silence, watching the volcano again, Sven found himself wondering who else might be falling apart.
Would he even know if he was next?
"Amazing."
Hunk was pacing around behind Black Lion, which was crouched in the clearing before the castle. Pidge stood a little further back; he'd dragged half the diagnostic units out of the workshop and seemed to be watching all of them at once. "Hit those left shoulder cannons again."
Keith was in the cockpit, obediently pushing buttons when asked, and at the request he sent another rocket roaring into the sky. A second later he followed it up with a glowing spear of energy from the same mount. The rocket exploded a few hundred feet in the air, while the spear sailed on a much lower trajectory and sheared the tops off a few trees before dissipating.
Shame we don't have any actual targets to shoot for.
It was Keith's first time in his own lion, and he was amazed at the familiarity—his brief time in Red Lion had evoked nothing like this. Perhaps it was partly because they were testing the weapons. Perhaps it wasn't.
"I don't believe it." Pidge shook his head. "I'm staring right at it and I still don't believe it."
"I know, little buddy. Never dreamed we'd find one of these that worked."
"It's pure genius."
"I know!"
The commander frowned. "You guys going to tell me what you're talking about at some point?"
"Sorry. It's a hardpoint system," Hunk explained. "Multiple weapon systems linked to a single point on the lion, phasing in and out as needed."
"Mainstream Alliance engineering has been theorizing about this for decades," the smaller engineer added. "But it's never been anything but a theory. My monitors are getting energy spikes and not much else when they activate... this has got to be way high on the mystical side of technomysticism."
A squeak. Cheddar was sitting on Keith's shoulder with several cables running from its tail to Black Lion's consoles, and until that moment it had been silent.
"What's wrong, little guy?"
Several more squeaks. Words appeared on an auxiliary monitor. Detecting transmission from castle. Coran is wanting to talk.
The castle's comms were a bit of a mess—only the laser systems were working consistently, and those required line of sight. Keith nodded and took his lion into the air a bit. "Coran?"
"Can you hear me, Lieutenant?"
"Loud and clear."
"The Drules have returned. They're inbound at the southern pole again."
Ahead of schedule. Keith's eyes narrowed. "Force count?"
"It's a much larger fleet, but we don't have any solid readings. Sven and Lance are on their way out already."
"Got it." Keith switched frequencies. "Hunk, Pidge, suit up. We've got some company that needs an escort right back off-world."
