Published October 2, 2017.

Dedicated to the victims of the Las Vegas shooting.

Author's Note: This chapter mentions some controversial topics, but it doesn't go deep into Catholic social doctrine, because Lance doesn't strike me as someone who would give it too much thought or put it into practice. It's more about the disagreement that exists, even within the Church, and the divisive nature of such topics, and how people become afraid to talk about them.

"Live Free or Die"

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! ~ Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775 address to the House of Burgesses

The adventure in the other reality left everyone on the team rattled. Allura was morose, probably racked with guilt for her recent actions and anxiety for their future consequences. Keith tried to comfort her, and Coran took his place while he left to search for Shiro. Hunk turned to his usual solace, the preparation, sharing, and consumption of food. Pidge brought her computer to the kitchen so she could hang out with Hunk while processing the data she had acquired from the Altean ship and trans-reality comet.

Lance tried praying his rosary, but found he could not concentrate. Moments from their adventure in the other reality kept coming back to him, pulling him out of the rhythm of the prayers.

For one thing, the way Sven saved him was rather haunting. The only other person who had ever jumped between him and an oncoming blow had been Hunk, someone he had been friends with for a while, and that had been an accident. Sven had only just met Lance, and they had just barely cemented their alliance. But if he was really Shiro, maybe Lance should not be surprised: Shiro was the kind of person who would risk his life to save anyone on his team. Lance hoped Slav had managed to get Sven to a space hospital—they probably wouldn't have had access to, or the desire to use, Altean healing pods. Slav had said "This is the reality where everything works out fine," but he had probably meant for them, in that situation. There was probably no such thing as a reality where everything worked out fine for everyone.

And then, that Altean scientist's words kept echoing in his mind. "Preservation of life is the Altean Empire's highest priority." The juxtaposition of words and ideals, using such a noble goal to justify horrendous means, made Lance's stomach turn over. And when he looked at his rosary, certain words—life, freedom, peace, will—brought back scattered memories of his extended family: heated arguments between teenagers, philosophical debates between adults, hushed conversations that they hoped the elders and children wouldn't hear.

The long, blank face of the non-cog, Moxilous, had been all the more eerie when the bespectacled man explained it away. "They're not slaves because they don't have will." As if he could be certain he didn't still have emotions and desires of his own. That sounded like a common justification for abortion and euthanasia: "It's not murder because they can't think or feel." If his cousins' information was true, that argument had no merit: babies in the womb reacted to pain, and Lance had heard stories about coma patients who, upon waking, said they had wanted to live even when they were unconscious. They had a will to live. Which meant free will and preservation of life weren't always in opposition either. Lance had always hated when people pitted different values against each other. He was pretty sure there was a phrase for that, but he couldn't think of it. Finally, he gave up on trying to pray, and decided to see how the others were doing.

When he arrived at the kitchen, Lance leaned against the doorframe while Hunk bustled around and Pidge typed at what seemed to Lance like an inhuman speed. "How's it going?" he asked casually.

"What?" Pidge queried. "Hunk's cookies, or my data analysis?"

Lance shrugged. "Either."

"The cookies are done, and don't taste too bad," Hunk said, smiling hopefully.

"I'm debating whether to try solving the anomalies of the reality vortex, or just accept it as the kind of magic that our planet's understanding of science can't explain," Pidge said. "It feels wrong to leave something alone when I don't understand it. Like an itch I can't help scratching."

Hunk slid a plate of cookies on the counter, which Lance perceived as an invitation to come over. He perched himself on a clear section of the counter and picked up a cookie, but did not take a bite right away, rotating it in his fingers instead. "I can't stop thinking about Sven and Slav and the Alteans."

"Yeah," Hunk said, wiping his hands on his apron, "I'm surprised Keith wasn't more rattled about seeing alternate Shiro."

Pidge nodded. "You know, in the back of my mind, I've been trying to figure out how Shiro could have ended up with a Scandinavian name and accent. I think the rise of the Altean Empire must have had some impact on Earth's history, which caused Shiro to be born and raised on a different continent."

"What that scientist guy said is really bothering me," Lance said "Is there a word, or a phrase, or something, for two things that you think can't exist together? Like, if you have one, you can't have the other?"

"'Mutually exclusive?'" Pidge suggested.

Lance snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Yes! They talked about life and freedom like they were mutually exclusive. I hadn't heard talk like that since—" Lance suddenly broke off, as though catching himself before saying something better left unsaid.

"When have you heard talk like that?" Pidge asked.

Lance folded his arms, ducking his head as he muttered, "Never mind." Maybe this was how Keith had felt when he let it slip that Shiro had wanted him to be the leader, something that he had not wanted anyone else to know.

"Hey, I thought we agreed not to have secrets anymore?" Hunk reminded him.

"It's not a secret, it's just not something I like to talk about. Or really have anything to say about. Whenever it came up, things just went badly."

"You're stalling," Pidge said. "Spill."

Lance's eyes darted to and from his friends, both wanting and not wanting to see their reactions. "Some of my family … and some of our friends back home … are really strongly pro-life."

Pidge's eyebrows went down behind her glasses lens. "Like, anti-abortion?" Lance could not tell if her tone and expression stemmed from confusion or disgust.

"Well, that, and anti-euthanasia. Some are even anti-war and anti-death penalty. A few are anti-gun too, which isn't really common for Christians. But the issue that gets the most attention is abortion. I mean, lots of Christians, especially Catholics, are against it; but some are really vocal about it—like, they go to marches and prayer meetings and pass out flyers." Lance avoided his friends' gazes, remembering the tension his family had felt whenever one of his aunts or cousins mentioned their work or offered to share resources. Eventually Lance's relatives had agreed to simply not talk about it, but that meant they could not talk about a major part of their lives, so their small talk always seemed rather empty.

Hunk's voice broke through the wave of memories. "Does that embarrass you?"

Lance looked up, and saw his friends looking at him with mild bemusement and something almost like concern. "Um … I didn't … well, I didn't know if it would bother you … some people get really riled up about it." Maybe he had been wrong to assume that his friends would judge him or his family. In his experience, broaching such controversial topics tended to bring out the worst in people.

"Lance," Pidge said gently, "I'm a scientist. I'm not that into social sciences, but I know a bit about biology and chemistry. I've read studies on pregnancy, birth control, and infant mortality."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Enough to know that abortion and the pill aren't all they're cracked up to be. Bureaucracies like the media, and even medical associations, try to cover up data that could hurt their industry. Even when they share it, people mistrust any sources that sound like they oppose their own ideology." Pidge's mouth curled in a rueful smile. "If I hadn't wanted to be an astronaut, I might've tried medical science, so I could bring that field some intellectual honesty, without any agendas getting in the way of the truth."

"Wow." If Lance had had to guess, he would have assumed Pidge was pro-choice, since most scientists gravitated toward that view. But it was like her to gather and analyze all the available information before forming an opinion.

"Do you identify as pro-life?" Hunk asked. "I mean, you don't have to answer, but I'm just curious."

"No. At least, I never have. But I don't identify as pro-choice either. I never knew what to think of it, because there were so many parts that people talked about and I didn't know enough about. When I tried to think about it, I'd get confused, and when I tried to talk about it, we'd get into arguments. So I tried not to think or talk about it."

Pidge nodded slowly. "I can understand how that would happen, but you never get anywhere that way."

"I don't know if I'd fit into a clean-cut label," Hunk said thoughtfully, "but you're right that freedom and life—or freedom and peace—shouldn't be mutually exclusive. The Guns of Gamara didn't seem to think they are. I don't think they want war or chaos, the way that scientist said they did. And neither do we. As paladins, we're safeguarding people's lives and freedom. Because one isn't worth much without the other."

That was an interesting line of thought, raising all kinds of strange questions. Was freedom worth dying for? Lance's American sensibility made him want to say yes, at least in the context of war and self-governance. They were risking their lives to liberate planets that had been enslaved, and save people whose lives were in danger. Hunk was right: The paladins of Voltron fought for life and freedom. Both were worth protecting and preserving.

"Thanks guys," Lance said. "That actually makes me feel better." He had not felt guilty, exactly, but now the conflict inside him felt less heavy. He finally took a bite of the cookie he had been holding, and found it tasted pleasant, with a subtle sweetness.

"Anytime, buddy," Hunk said, pleased to see his food being appreciated.

"Yeah, don't be afraid to talk about this kind of thing," Pidge said. "Even if we disagree on something major, we'll still love you. And you don't have to work through things like that on your own. We can move toward the truth together."

Author's Notes:

While I'm fine with getting into controversial points of theology, I didn't want to get into controversial politics in this cycle, partly because I don't think my knowledge and values match Lance's (he clearly never learned Theology of the Body), and partly because I don't want to invite flames. But my personal research on the pro-life and pro-choice movements has made me so sensitive to the words "life" and "freedom" that the episode "Hole in the Sky" made me wonder if the writers were trying to push a certain agenda. I'm not writing this to promote any ideology, but to promote dialogue, because I see far too much closed-mindedness on issues like abortion, birth control, and gun rights/restrictions. If you want to talk about these issues, I'd be glad to share what knowledge and resources I have, though I'm still learning myself.

What do you think of this chapter intersecting the one I had previously, which is now two chapters, the ones before and after this one? Does it work in terms of flow and theme?

Disclaimer: "Live free or die" is the state motto of New Hampshire. It is not my home state, but I have been there quite often and have seen those words on many car license plates.