Thirty-Eight: A Want To Mourn
Lance is dead. The team had accepted it in their minds, months ago. But maybe none of them had accepted it in their hearts. Now, they must learn to accept the pain and move on, as Lance would want them to do. They're going to find the rest of the Solnha, they're going to form a treaty and they're going to defeat the Empire for once and for all. In honour of Lance, Blue Paladin of Voltron, Valion of the Solnha Alliance.
System: Iitharra
Location: Space
Finding the Solnha is just as hard the second time as it was the first, even with the survivors there to help. But even with the pirate's knowledge on their companion's previous whereabouts, it does nothing to add them in finding them in their current position.
The decision to find the Solnha was made long before the team learnt of Lance, before the first pirates woke, before Voltron ever infiltrated Genwar. The search was taken on by Pidge, just as thorough, just as obsessed as they had been when Lance was the one they sought from the stars. It is with the airs of desperation that they throw themselves to their chair, hands never stopping in their continuous tap of the keys, much like Keith's own constant barrage against the Gladiators in the training hall. Shiro joins him there daily, as does Hunk and the three hard-hitters of the Solnha, sparring against the Paladins for a sake to work out their pent-up frustration for the Galra.
There is no animosity between Keith and the pirates anymore. Not quite friendship, or a relationship of the sort, but there is the understanding that the Galra are who killed Lance and a mutual hatred for the scum that deserve a long, eternal suffering for the crimes they have committed.
It is this reciprocated thought that allows them to train with one another and burn off energy when the robots aren't enough and they seek blood. Of course, the other Paladins will never let them beat themselves up too much, with Coran being the whip that cracks when enough is enough and the four are to shower, eat and sleep until the following day.
Uilt'xen seeks company with the Princess, and although they too are not quite friends, their common pain allows their closeness as they sit together on the Bridge, trading stories of Lance and Valion alike.
It is the closest to peace the team have come across for months.
Fragile and brittle, but reminiscent of calm under all the still-feeling pain that haunts them from one morning to the next.
System: Ruse Minor
Location: Space
Keith sat on the floor, his numb fingers clinging to the fabric of the red jacket he had once lent Lance. To hide his hurt. He had done it for the sake of Lance; because the boy hadn't wanted to worry the team. But maybe Lance took at Keith wanting to hide his injuries. Hide his hurt, hide his pain, hide all his mistakes and stop dragging the team down….
If that was what Lance had thought, then Keith wished he'd never given the dumb fuck his jacket.
He held it now; his red leather jacket scrunched between bone-white knuckles, like Keith was trying to rip through the fabric through sheer force of will. The pain of creaking bone was the only anchor he could hold onto to stop himself self-destructing. His anger hadn't left him. Not really. Not truly.
He should've been taking comfort from the fact that he snapped the neck of the bitch that had killed his best friend.
Best friend?
Could he say that?
No.
Not really.
Time escaped his noticed as he remained there, not in his own room, but Lance's, surrounded by emptiness. Cold, lonely emptiness that wasn't to be filled by Lance because he was gone and he was dead and he wasn't coming home.
But then, this wasn't really his home, was it, Keith thinks, a snort to himself that is a cough and a sob and the crack in the floodwalls. He doesn't cry like the world is falling apart. It's already fallen. The idiot has only just noticed, and it's too late to patch the holes, to steady himself before the horde swarms in and breaks down his walls.
Keith cries, mourning the world that has passed.
Steady streams of tears trickle down his cheeks, his mind numb, his body cold and unfeeling. He doesn't hear the words of the newcomer. He doesn't feel the dip of the bed behind him, or the hand that is placed on his back for comfort.
"Come on. This will do you no good."
"I'm fine right here," Keith says, ignoring the way Coran tries to pull him from the bed, and the room. Here is the closest he can be to Lance. Or his memory. He doesn't want to leave.
"Come on."
"I'm fine," Keith says again, his voice hollow. He is much the same.
Anger flickers like a light inside him, but it is dying, smothered by the darkness and the cold that prickles at his fingers, the twilight-pain that draws him to sleep and drags him to nightmares.
The others hadn't understood. They had dragged him, kicking and screaming to the precipice, to force the truth upon him even when he wasn't ready. And Keith, kicking and screaming had fought, tooth and nail just to remain present in the hope that Lance would come back to them. If not tomorrow then next week, next month, god, even next year if it just meant that Lance would come back to them…
But when Keith turned, to return to the moment where hope was his companion and he could see the path where Lance waited at the end of it…
The path was gone, the rock crumbled until all that surrounded him was the sheer drop of reality. Lance was dead. They all knew that long ago, had accepted it enough to bear the weight and move on. But Keith had not. He'd force fed them hope when they didn't want it, dragging up all that hurt, all that want that wouldn't change the outcome.
Because Lance was already lost to them.
And Keith had to come to accept that.
System: Caesura
Location: Uris's Atmosphere
The Castle of Lions hung in the atmosphere of Uris, not needing to land on the surface after confirming that the presence of the Solnha was not affirmed here, nor in the system. Uris was one such planet the Castle had flown to, after it being listed as one of many that the Solnha had touched base before.
"It was for Valion actually," Kenmare said fondly, standing near the Bridge's window, looking down to the low sweeping valleys that ran in rivulets between low cresting mountain ranges. He eyes a fix on a point unseen, sharing nostalgia with his brother and Leonel alike. "He fought Gereen here and became Valion."
Shiro wants to ask. He wants to hear of the boy that he failed, desperate to hear stories of a boy who had found another family when his own had let him down too many times.
He wants to hear stories, like Uilt'xen's tales and those that fall from pale lips when memory serves laughter or amusement, he wants to know of Lance's time with the pirates. They loved and respected him as more than the Blue Paladin, more than Lance; a defender of Voltron.
And so, Shiro asks of the fight. Or, duel, as Rayon corrects from his place by the window, staring down at the valley beneath him.
"Gereen was another Sault in Solnha's Alliance. He was in command of the Rexx-Marth, and mate to Orvis." At the Arroyen's name, Shiro's face sours, but Rayon explains that Gereen was Pawthen, kin to Eldar but his mind had been turned by the war, and twisted by Orvis's words the longer she spent by his side.
"I'm not sure the exacts of the disagreement, but Gereen wouldn't offer his support to Genwar's mission without Valion and himself settling their dispute. It was Lance who chose the duel as a way of coming to an agreement," the Draora grinned. His eyes sparked with pride, and Shiro too, felt the same emotion swell up inside him, even though he hadn't been there to witness it for himself.
But if Lance was to declare the duel, then he was sure in his strength. And rightly so, having claimed victory, and the title of Leader in the same instance.
A strange sort of pain settled on Shiro's chest; a heaviness he couldn't shift.
Because Shiro didn't know their Lance. He didn't know of the boy who was strong enough to stand against a Pawthen and come out victorious. He didn't know of a boy that aligned fighting sanctions under one banner, nor of a boy that had grown strong enough to lead them without so much more than words and a single display of strength to offer his assurance that he should be the one to lead.
It wasn't a pleasant feeling. So Shiro ignored it.
Instead he listened to more stories, from times of Lance being foolish and fearing his new-found family for the sake of him drowning, to amusing them with his own drunkard ways that lead him to many a drunken brawl. Edegil Rayon calls it, and calls Lance a decent contender when he was aboard the Godolphin. "Only Uilt'xen and Eldar ever bested him, but then Uilt'xen's fists are like rock, and Eldar can soak up Kirkuk like a Krell devours rock."
Leonel talks of the tales he and his ship heard before the Fellmot arrived at Uris, how Lance had impressed his own Sault with his resilience to falling in battle, how the tales of his efforts shaped the boy into a blood-thirsty monster that scared the Galra like whimpering culm. And then the amusement at coming face to face with the short, weedy Human that had bested the Pawther before their eyes in a matter of minutes.
Hunk tells the Solnha of his selflessness, of how he protected Hunk from the beginning of the school years, and even on the battlefield many years later.
Kenmare shares the story of Lance's relation to Or', a Galran kit that had narrowly escaped a death sentence who had been quickly appointed as his younger sister, like they had been kin for years.
"Yes, that sounds like Lance," Hunk laughed, his smile soft, eyes shining.
They fall into melancholic silence, the ever-present numbness seeping into their hearts, the melody of their laughter false and fabricated but without colour and the softness of silk that would give them comfort during their time of mourning.
Hunk doesn't want to think he's mourning his best friend.
Shiro doesn't want to think he's mourning a boy that looked up to him as a hero.
Pidge doesn't want to think they are mourning the loss of another Brother to the monster of war.
Keith doesn't mourn. Not yet. Not while he is still grasping at the truth that Lance is dead.
Allura doesn't want to believe she is mourning. She can't. She's not strong enough to get back up if she did.
Coran has already mourned the loss of Lance. Now, it is for him to be there to support the team. He is to remain stead-fast in the tide of emotion to come, keeping the children in line with their needs. He urges them to eat when they're hungry. He leads them to bed when they're tired and he pushes them to one another when the sadness rears its ugly head.
One day they will be strong again. For Lance they will free the universe from the Empire's control.
Until then, they are allowed to feel.
.
System: Nix
Location: Karta XI
Nix turned out to be a dead end.
Jastra and Vesper too.
No matter which planet or system the Solnha provide the name of, any signs of their fellow raiders are long since gone, as are they. Pidge grows increasingly frustrated, and has been ever since the knowledge of the Solnha's communication system not yet alerting them to incoming and outgoing signals.
The fear of the Solnha having been defeated wasn't one that the crew entertained, having already uncovered the knowledge from the Galra that they were expecting another attack from the rogue fleet. The understanding that they had gone into hiding was easy to accept with the understanding that their leader— that Lance had been slain meant that they were in need of new leadership and time to order and heal from the Genwar skirmish.
But it wasn't something that was welcomed by the team, even with its necessity, leaving them with only the means of tearing across the Galaxy, asking of them and hoping to come across signs that they hadn't given up the fight and disbanded.
The days that followed remained uneasy and tense, with no change in their predicament.
The Solnha became temporary residents of the castle, each claiming a room in the lower residential quarter. It wasn't like the castle didn't have enough space to house them, and there was plenty of food for the four guests as the Castle space-hopped from one planet to another, trying to find signs of the Solnha Pirates. But they had practically vanished since the failure at Genwar.
No matter how many Galra ships the Paladins invaded, there were no more logs of space battles or sightings of the Alliance, leaving some to feat that it was true that their part in the war had come to an end with the loss of Valion. But the others remained hopeful, deeming that the Alliance was simply regrouping after such a large mission.
A week passed.
Shiro and Allura spent many days with the twins, fighting on the training deck or sat idly in the control room; their main focus of discussion the Solnha's movement and Lance's contribution to the war.
Pidge had befriended Uilt'xen, prodding their mechanical mindedness out of curiosity. She steered clear of anything 'Lance' not wanting to hear of a boy she didn't know. Hunk was very different, sharing his own stories with the Daratrine and Vhoadan as they passed the time between waiting and travelling.
Coran kept himself busy with maintaining the castle, and although the halls were spotless, the engines running perfectly and nothing to be done, one could always finding him bothering with chores, cleaning, humming to himself as he wandered up and down the halls.
No one ever saw him cry, but if he attended dinner with red eyes and puffy cheeks, who were they to mention it?
Keith was hardly ever around. They'd see him once a day, dinner or breakfast, but never both. He never said a word; taking his grief and internalising it, alienating himself as he took Red out day in and day out, venturing far to find the pirates.
His mission to find Lance had been cruelly cut short, and now he needed another focus. Taking on Galra was a part of that, and if he happened upon any, he'd take them out with a harsh ruthlessness not before seen that even Red feared speaking in his mind when the anger consumed him.
She was there for him though, and tried to help him as the grief of a loss of love warped into something ugly and painful.
Another week passed and the grief was no less easy to carry.
And still, no sign of the Solnha.
System: Nairn
Location: Space
It was morning.
Or, at least it was morning enough for all of the Paladins and the Pirates to be awake at the same time.
They were gathered in the Bridge, having congregated there after a skirmish with a rogue Galran patrol. The fight was unexpected; the act of two paths crossing and scramble to attack before the other. It wasn't a great fete, the clash of ships over before it could really begin. Tried and tested, the Paladins were quick to strike with fury, without pity.
The pirates were ruthless on their part, with the Draora a part of the boarding party, while Leonel and Uilt'xen remained behind to man the guns, with exceptional skill and sure-fire aim.
Yet the team were not pleased with the results.
Or, yes, they were. But then, at the same time, they were not.
It was confusing and all together infuriating.
Because Allura had done remarkably well.
And that wasn't a bad thing, it really wasn't, they were proud for her and told her as such as she took out half a legion with Blue. Precise. Ruthless.
The Princess's bond with Blue was strong and would continue to strengthen as they continued to fight beside one another. The truth of her position was solidified with the reality of Lance's passing.
It was clear to all of them that Allura would be able to form Voltron with the team; something no situation had called upon as of yet. But when that time came, they would succeed.
It was something they had long-since wished for, and wished for not, in equal unbalanced measure. But now, there was no more un-want. There was no reason for Allura to hold herself back anymore. She was filling heavy shoes, but she had to try. And the team had to accept her.
With the debriefing of the last fight over and done with, everyone stood in silence. No one had made the effort to leave the Bridge, nor break the heavy silence that fell upon them. Allura has said it once, that she was capable to be Lance's temporary stand-in and no one disputed that. But now that the status of "temporary" had become "permanent."
It was something they should have considered long ago.
Even with their continued hope of Lance being alive and well, there had been no guarantee that he would've returned to fight alongside them once more.
But, naively, they thought that surely, he would.
They were his family, his only link to earth.
That had been Keith's hope at least. A hope now forgotten as he stood staring out the window to space, side by side with Rayon. Not a word was shared between them, but neither tension. There hasn't been forgiveness, or any sort of amendment between them, but there is a mutual calm for now. They will fight the common enemy side by side, but when all is said and done, they can return to hating one another.
Until then, they will hold onto fragile peace.
Side by side the two of them watch the stars. Perhaps they were looking out in the direction of where the Solnha waited. Where once he hoped that Lance had waited for the team to find him, but he had never been sure.
None of them had known, and it had been painful.
Knowing that Lance hadn't wanted to return was even worse.
Knowing that Lance was dead…
Coran sipped at a small beverage he and Hunk had made for those gathered, yet he remained to be the only one. Everyone else left theirs untouched.
Allura held hers limply in her hands, mind a thousand stars away, staring blankly at her reflection in the clear caramel liquid reflecting back, her mind filled with jokes and silly little things Lance might've once say after the mission. What he might've said to alleviate this tension. What he would have said to her, after seeing her pilot Blue in battle. Would he have been proud?
Or would he have been hurt? Because she upheld her promise to the team, replaced Lance and hasn't let them down. Not like Lance thought he had.
Maybe, just maybe, he would've been grateful, not having to worry about being with the team, finally free to do as he pleased. But then, Blue's bond with Lance had always been strong, and Allura couldn't push the boy aside in her mind as she longed for her missing cub.
Blue didn't understand the idea of death. Even as Allura tried to explain, much like she would to a child that Lance was gone, and he wouldn't be coming back…
Allura couldn't accept it in her heart. There was no reason Blue couldn't feel the tiniest shred of hope, and chose to hold onto that and nothing else.
She just needed time. They all needed time.
Only Pidge was making noise as they thumbed through the frequencies, cross-legged on the Black Paladin's chair, boots discarded at their feet. They had barely allowed themselves time to shower and unequip the upper parts of their armour before returning to their usual position and continue trying to discern the pattern that the Solnha wove as they flew through the stars.
It was infuriating. They were there, on their screen, somewhere where the dots blinked teasingly but none would give up their secrets and just tell them.
The Solnha were finally broadcasting again, using old frequencies and the same patterns of movement, but Pidge hadn't been able to decipher it before, and there was less luck this time than before.
Uilt'xen tried to help, Leonel too. Their hearts were in the right place, but their minds were not and it was hard enough for them to remained focused on the task at hand, let alone understand it. But Pidge appreciated their efforts. In their own way.
"Oh, for fucks sake," the young Gremlin cursed in anger, dropping their head, hands in their hair, bushels gripped in tight fists that pulled for deliberate self-inflicted pain. Everyone turned at the youngest's cry of rage, yet no one called them out upon their choice of words. Nor did they offer their own in comfort.
Pidge wasn't done. "I don't get it. And I don't understand why I don't get it. There're too many damn signals, changing, but every time the Solnha try and cover their tracks by swapping up the frequencies they transmit on, no one has ever altered my code. That's why I know the frequency changes and not the entire system, because I still get relayed transmissions." They sigh into their hands, voice dropping down to a grumble. Uilt'xen and Leonel share looks, but Pidge's words make as much sense to them as the numbers floating on the screen.
"It's meant to make sense. It's meant to be simple. If they've figured out that I hacked into their system, they'd change it immediately, or at least throw a bug in it so it tampers with the systems on our end. But no, these guys are too stupid."
Hunk, the closest to the youngest Paladin, pats their shoulder. "Pidge, calm down. You'll figure it out, you always do. If you need help, just ask." He smiled. Pidge smiled back. "Team Punk?"
"'til the end." They bumped knuckles, before Pidge shuffled over so Hunk could perch on the arm of the seat. The pirates moved away, Uilt'xen coming to curl up in a blue hued chair, Kenmare wrapping his arms around her.
The Vhoadan joined Keith and Rayon by the window, lending an ear to Pidge's low words. They were pointing at a screen that held a string of numbers in varying frequencies. "Are these the feeds the Solnha are using at the moment?"
"Old ones. I've got the castle scanning for them too, just in case they swap back to any previous ones. But instead, they add to what they've already got. Last week I was only looking for four. Yesterday it was seven. Today I've got over twenty different programmes tracking the frequencies. It's like I've got a hundred needles and no hay stack."
"You think they're duds? To throw you off, rather than play with your code?" Pidge shook their head. "No, there's no point. If they wanted to hide completely, they'd strip the code from their system and be on their merry way. The complexity of jumbling their frequencies isn't to distract, it's to keep them from being found."
"But not by us," they added, when Hunk made to speak. "I don't think they know I hacked them." A thought that is affirmed by Rayon, who tells them no news reached his ears that Voltron were anywhere on their radar. Or, they were lead to believe as such when he and his brother heard them come up in conversation. Instead, according to Pidge, what the Solnha were doing was an old way of covering tracks before they could leave them.
"Potterwatch?"
"Potterwatch."
Keith and Shiro watched from their place across the room, equally wishing to be of some use, but knowing the two geniuses didn't need them to hold them back. The data streams meant as much to them as did Altean text. Which, wasn't much.
"Do you think he knew? And that's why it was left?"
"Huh?" Keith misses the main question in Shiro's words, a little caught in his mind, not quite on the same page as the Black Paladin. "Lance. Do you think he knew that we were trying to track the ships, and instead of reaching back, he had them keep the code instead of purging it. Maybe they were set as decoys, just for the sake of keeping us away.
"Don't be stupid," Keith began, but whatever argument he had voiced a thousand times would do nothing to alter Shiro's view. "We both know by now he didn't want to come back to us.
"That also meant that he didn't want us to find him."
A spike of anger rose in the boy, but before he could identify it, Rayon placed a hand on his shoulder, an anchor to the moment before anger could take his mind and twist his words to hurt his family all over again. "Valion didn't know of you tracking him. His main focus was training the crew, running missions and keeping the Saults happy. I don't think Voltron was ever a topic of conversation for him."
Although the words are meant to be comforting, they aren't. Not really.
It just means, to Lance, he had finished with them for good. And they were fools for not understanding that, when there was no attempt from the boy to mend the bridges that had been burnt long ago.
"I just don't get it!"
Pidge's outburst saved Keith from anything more the Draora might have wanted to say, watching as the Green Paladin jumped from their chair, throwing one of their discarded shoes at the holo-screen. It passed straight through, landing spitefully on the far side of the bridge near where Uilt'xen and Kenmare were cuddling together.
The noise of the Paladin's tantrum pulled Allura and Coran out from their thought bubbles, shocked at the unexpected sound, and the sight of Pidge hurling their other shoe at the window, like it would do something more than bounce off pathetically.
"Need my shoe too?" Shiro offered, along with a smile. Pidge glared. Then dropped it.
They slumped to the floor, arms curling around their knees. "No, no. I just need to clear my head for a moment."
"Then explain it to me," their leader said, stepping away from Keith and the pirates. The boy followed Shiro's movements, as did everyone else as he crossed the room, kneeling to sit opposite Pidge. "You understand far more than me, so go back to the basics. Tell me everything, slowly, and you might just be able to figure it out. Remember what your dad called it, the Rubber Duck protocol."
It made sense really. Because even though Pidge, Hunk and Coran had the knowhow on reading the code and finding the answer, if they explained it to the others, it might just make it obvious where they had to look.
Allura shuffled closer to where Pidge and Shiro sat. Hunk settled himself in the chair, as Coran decided to fetch another round of warm milk and sweet-bean, with Leonel offering to help him. The two in Lance's chair remained as they were, as did Rayon and Keith, staying by the window, watching on from a distance as Pidge started to explain their code, answering carefully thought questions from the rest of the team. They were all doing their part, even Hunk, who had been ready to give up and leave the questions unanswered.
Keith couldn't. He felt that was all life offered him: questions.
Why did his mother leave him? Why did his Father have to die? Why could no one understand he wanted to be alone? Why is that officer bothering with the likes of him? Why wouldn't they tell him what happened to Shiro? What was this thing he found, this Lion? Why is Shiro here, why is Lance with him, what's going on?
One question after another after another, no pause between to give anyone a chance to answer them for him. And still, more questions came. Why did Lance leave? Why didn't he speak up? Who was the one that gave him that final push? Was there anything Keith could've done to change it? Why was everyone losing hope? Why had Hunk given up? Was it really only Keith who believed they'd see Lance again? Was Lance really dead, or was he alive, still waiting, still hoping …
Too many questions, and none to be answered until Keith voiced them himself. But as much as Keith feared not knowing, he feared the truth too. What if wasn't what he wanted it to be? What if it was worse than what he had feared? What if this was all for naught and Lance truly was gone; long-since dead with no way to return home, leaving the team nothing to give his family when they apologised for abandoning him….
"… and there's no way they could miss your piggy-back code?" Uilt'xen asked. She and Kenmare had moved now, coming to sit cross-legged opposite the Green Paladin. Her voice carried Her Hin the quiet as Pidge and Hunk thought through the problems out loud. "Well, yeah, there is a way to miss it, but you'd have to be really stupid to notice a new programme and just shrug it off. And with the sophistication of their jamming signal, I know that whoever is in charge of your communication lines isn't exactly stupid, nor would they leave extra code floating on their frequencies."
"What if you had managed to hide it really well—"
"A hack would work like that, but what Pidge did was effectively attaching a bug to their stream feed. It would stick out like a sore thumb, even if they weren't looking for it."
Pidge sighed, palming their eyes under their glasses. "With the time I was given, and the fact I had to rush because L-Lance went on ahead didn't give me much room for to mod the codes I've already used." No one focused on the way Pidge stumbled on his name, neither they, as the forged ahead, the speed of their words increasing, like Pidge doesn't want anyone to pick up on it.
"I didn't have time to do a complete overhaul on the details, but I managed to sync the return-signal feed, so that every time they transmit a signal, I'd get an instant hit on their location."
"So then, the problem you have is that you now have too many frequencies showing up in different locations?"
"They're in different systems, different planets, transmitting within minutes of one another, like their jumping space," the Green Paladin grumbled, hands in their lap, trying to avoid the shame of failing the team. They couldn't find the Solnha, just like how they couldn't find Lance in time.
"I didn't think to track the pirate's signal, or the location of their out-going message, so we only ever have one point of contact. Problem is, that is constantly changing." Too much, too soon.
Just as the Solnha had back when they first encountered them. When the Solnha vanished, and within a Dobosh of silence, they had managed to fly to Nix. Impossible by all standards, except for the Castle of Lions, whose hyperjump capabilities made such travel feasible.
'How' was the question. 'Where,' and 'when next' followed, as well as the question of Lance being among them. It hadn't been completely confirmed, even with their mission with the Marmora, but with the pirates, they had learnt that Lance and Valion was one and the same. He had been living another life, free of the burdens the team unknowingly forced upon him. Lance had been living, thriving, leading the Solnha—
"Do you know which ship you hacked?" Kenmare asks, "but it doesn't matter which ship it is," Pidge explains, "because the ship sends out so many signals, the point is to find the real signal in all the decoys."
"So, the plan is just to pull a signal at random, and follow it in hopes that there is a Pirate Ship at the end of it?" Uilt'xen asks, not quite sure if Ygrainne had ever set up a system that sent out multiple feeds during one broadcast. But then, Uilt'xen was a Gunner and a Mechanic. Ygrainne was the best on the Godolphin for working with transmissions, as much as the Thorx of the rest of the crews were in charge of their communication lines.
If only a conversation about the inner workings of the ship's communication lines had come up over a drink of Kirkuk. At least once.
Picking a feed at random was their only option, as infuriating as it was. Pidge grumbled about wasting time already, staring over their shoulder, up at the screen, their temple pulsing with frustration. Why couldn't it be simpler?
"Hey Pidge, what's this here?" Keith and Rayon had come to join them now, but rather than sitting on the floor like the rest of the rag-tag team of Voltron and Solnha, both the Red Paladin and Draora stood back. Keith isn't watching the team. He was staring at the screen and the unsolved puzzle that had once left the trail to Lance.
"That? It's the past streams and their locations." Keith stared at the co-ordinates and the times of transmission, ignoring the other numbers. "They're in groups of two, at least, or three sometimes."
"Yeah, I know. But the co-ordinates show them to always be in separate systems. It's the before jump and after."
Pidge is beside him now, Hunk and Shiro pulling themselves up off the floor so they can see too. It doesn't make sense to them, but Allura's keen eye spots the pattern that Keith was starting to figure out. "There though, look. Five separate co-ordinates, transmitting one after the other."
Pidge stared. "An anomaly in the pattern."
"Not an anomaly, the answer," Hunk said, a smile pressing to his lips. "Pidge, they're not duds."
"Huh?" They all looked to the Yellow Paladin, the lilt of something in his voice ensnaring their focus. Coran's and Leonel's too as the pair re-entered the Bridge, abandoning the tray of drinks they had been carrying for the choice of joining the others around the module, aware of the flicker of light in the darkness.
"What is it? What have you found?" But the Vhoadan's question goes unanswered as Pidge looks to where Hunk was pointing, their frown smoothing and their eyes widened as they looked, eyes flicking from one number to another, to the map, the colours and the trail they left….
"No way," they mumbled, dropping into the chair, fingers already on the module's keys, not even bothering to look down at what they were doing.
Everyone felt the shift in the air; the change from hopelessness to hopefulness.
"No fucking way," Pidge repeated, voice getting louder as a snowstorm of emotions flurried from their mouth in bright, beautiful cuss words. "You fucking…. oh, thank you, you beautiful pieces of shit!"
"That's why it was the same! That's why they all kept changing frequencies but the coding was always kept the fucking same."
They had stood from their chair now, eyes glued to the screens as they shifted places, the map taking spotlight in the centre, the frequency signals no longer ordered in chronological order, but grouped and colour coded in sequencing patterns to follow trails, linking the ghost-marks with pathways of colour.
The hope of the youngest fuelled the rest into standing, sharing half-smiles and wide, expectant eyes.
"Pidge what is it? What do you see?"
Shiro couldn't see it, he didn't understand the way their brain worked, how everything was fading around them, no longer rivers of colours and mountains of data, but two simple categories of markers. Black and White. No more red, no more colour, just beautiful black and white and the solution to the puzzle that plagued them for too long.
Pidge ignored the ice in their heart, the silent whisper of it's too late for him.
It was too late for Lance, but that didn't mean they were just going to give up on the universe, on the war.
Pidge let out a triumphant cry, Coran, Kenmare and Hunk getting caught up in their excitement as they waited, with baited breath and wide smiles. "There, right there!" the youngest yelled, jumping up and pointing at the screen like a child choosing their flavour of ice cream. "It wasn't a case of "one real, the rest fake," like I stupidly assumed it would be. I thought too much of these damn Solnha, sorry guys, thinking the trojan was known and they were just throwing transmissions out left right and centre to—"
"Pidge, you've earned bragging rights, but please save them," Shiro said, out of breath as if he had just run from the Lion's hangar. despite the battle ending long ago. Adrenaline pumped in his veins from the overwhelming hope that maybe…. That maybe…
"The reason all the signals transmitted have the hack is because I hijacked their jamming signal. They were relaying it on an open frequency so they'd definitely be able to hit us, but they didn't consider the fact that doing so enabled me to integrate the trojan across all their frequencies." They turn to the team, smiles to confusion, because they still don't get it. "Oh for the love of Merlin's socks! Don't you see? All their frequencies. Because it's not just one damn ship I linked with, but all of them! I haven't been tracking just the yellow ship we fought with. I've been tracking the entire ship simultaneously without even knowing!"
Oh fuck it was obvious! Because in that damned fake rescue mission, there wasn't just one damn pirate ship but two! Why didn't they realise sooner? The answer was staring at them, plain as day!
"So, it's just a matter of finding the right ship?"
Pidge turned back to the screen, a sharp shake of the head. "It doesn't matter what ship. They're all Solnha. They'll be able to get a transmission to the main alliance and we'll be able to—"
But before Pidge could finish, a red light flashed on their holo-display. More feeds poured in simultaneously, all open transmissions that demanded attention as they filled the screen.
Without needed encouragement, Pidge opened one. It warped into a video box, the main on the screen taken up by the image of a tall, smooth faced alien.
Kenmare gasped from behind, eyes turning to him, questions on their lips. But Kenmare and the other Solnha paid Voltron no mind as they stared up at the screen, eyes fixed on the worry painted on their crewmates face. Around her, red lights blared, the screen shaking, feeding cutting out for a moment until the audio kicked in and they could hear her speaking:
[—alliance are to return to Caldara. I repeat. All ships of the Solnha Alliance are to return to Caldara.]
[The Galra are here.]