Kitchen Gossip

Lotor was motionless on his bed, half mast eyes staring at emptiness.

Fiery, vivacious Lance was ensconced in the cushioned chair, a shadow of himself. Tremors shook his wiry frame, his brown hair was plastered to his face... And were those salty tear tracks? Hunk Immediately crouched in front of him and covered his hands with his own. His warmth was welcomed by a slight relaxing of Lance's cold fingers.

"Talk to me, Lance."

"We were attacked."

"Opponents?" Guessed Hunk. It was the only thing he thought that could get to Lance so profoundly. "You saw them?"

"From within."

"S***! So Lotor wasn't exaggerating."

"Hell no!" Lance cried with a sudden shiver. "I barely made it out with my own personality. The sun chased them. Hunk," he continued earnestly, "they would have won... if they had a bit more time... It was horrible."

He looked at Hunk at last, locking his watery eyes on the other's. He had been right to call Hunk. He could tell the entire thing and the yellow Lion pilot wouldn't judge him.

"Before the attack," Lance continued, "Lotor... he did something amazing..."

And he proceeded to report his nightmarish guard duty.

The Yellow Lion pilot settled more comfortably and listened patiently, encouraging Lance by nods and gentle prodding.

When he finally had all the facts, Hunk remained thoughtful a few minutes, and then rose to his feet.

"The spirits never attacked one of us before. They are getting stronger. We should meet to discuss this."

Hunk checked on the drule. He appeared oblivious, but physically unharmed. He turned back to his companion.

"But first, Lance, you need to take good care of yourself. I'll finish your shift, since I'm awake anyway. Go take a hot shower, eat something warm and take a nap. I'll see to Lotor and call the others when the hour is a bit more decent. Also, as soon as you are up to it, you should have that little private talk with Keith. I too am a bit fed up by their tragic tiptoeing around each other."

Lance threw his first, pale smile of this day.

"Keith missing the morning practice and hearing things he doesn't want to... it's a suicide mission. He'll want to tear me apart. Will you promise to pick up the pieces afterwards?"

"I'll even put you back together," Hunk answered, "it so happens I'm wicked good at it... But just in case, enlist Pidge. He can run circles around any argument with his vise grip hold on logic."

He offered his hand to Lance, who took it to be pulled up from the chair.

"Go along now," said the Yellow Lion pilot, "You look like hell."

"You don't mind finishing my shift?"

"Naw, don't worry."

With a last grateful look, Lance went to his own room.

As always when confronted with distress, Hunk had a ready solution : the castle's staff. Not only did their breakfasts have the power to dispel dark thoughts, as Hunk had often stated, but the simple fact of having a small army of kind people willfully taking care of you warmed the heart.

The pilots had no close family. The servants knew this and took them under their wing. It was all in the details : the meticulous care with which their suites were cleaned, their pillows fluffed, the little knickknacks dusted to perfection, and the careful respect of their clutter and scattered papers.

Servants where everywhere. They took care of everything, and received almost no acknowledgement. They were as invisible as omnipresent. It had its advantages : he who emptied the trash cans knew many secrets. This other, removing the ashes in a fireplace, found the remnants of a letter that retained its fragile shape and was still legible before it crumbled at the slightest contact. The servants knew they could go to certain persons to relay such accidental intelligence. Hunk, Marnott and his friends would take them seriously.

They cared for Hunk especially. The big man had what precious few of their charges did : respect. Hunk didn't believe in hierarchy. He understood systems, how it has to work, the necessity of leaders, but considered the roles of everyone as equally important, and it showed in his attitude. And they loved him for it. You had to have been the one to wipe the door knobs to realise that staving contamination is a primordial function. Hunk treated them as equals and often commented on how their flawless work made Allura's rule and their defence of the planet possible.

They appreciated this, and it gave him the privilege of their affection, a non negligible power.

If he sicced them on Lance, he knew they would spoil the lone wolf silly. Hunk figured he could really use the pampering.

He called the kitchen.

"Lance had kind of a bad nights, gents. He's taking a shower in his rooms and it'd be nice if he had something heart warming afterwards."

"Hot chocolate with breakfast?"

"Perfect. Oh, and if you'd be so kind as to bring me something later on, and include something for our blue guest. He also needs a pick-me-up. Could we bother you for something drulean?"

"No problem, Mister Hunk, we'll see too it."

"You're pearls," Hunk beamed. "You know that right?"

He ended the communication and settled in the chair.

"Thank you." Came a soft whisper.

Hunk turned toward the only other occupant of the room. Lotor's eyes showed a bit more life.

"Awake?"

"Unfortunately."

"Lance told me. That was a brave thing you did," Hunk said simply.

"Don't remind me," Lotor said, burying his head in his pillow.

"Oh, I think I should. You lost something precious. But you also gained something."

"What do you mean?" Lotor asked, uncomprehending.

"You just made a couple hundreds of friends..."

***** ***** *****

It was a simple matter for the Head Cook to call friends at the drule enclave to ask what drules, doomites in particular, used as comfort food. Abundantly sweetened hot milk with spices, warmed tartare with confit d'oranges, mh? She could handle that.

Of course it started a wave of curiosity in the village... Why would the castle's human cook need to comfort the only drule in there? They itched in curiosity.

They were not alone...

"Master Lance was overjoyed to receive breakfast," said a young maid, bringing back her empty cart. "He was getting out of the shower with just a towel on!"

"Ohhh, you have all the luck!" Gushed another, starry eyed. "And is the merchandise any good?"

"Groowl! Nice six pack, stomach flat as a board and looking as hard as one too!"

"Stop such talk!" Admonished the Head Cook, but she was smiling wickedly. "And wipe the drool off your face!"

"So," began the gushy one, ignoring the order, "What do you think is happening?"

"I don't know," said the first maid, "But I think they were attacked. Master Lance was pale as a sheet, and the drule, well, he was crushed. He couldn't eat anything. He did take the milk though. Master Hunk was very commiserate to him."

"It was master Lance's guard shift last night. Something must have happened then..."

One of the night patrol men, who was happily rummaging through the gigantic pantry informed them.

"I saw them both coming back from the forest at dawn. The drule was all weird, master Lance supported him, and he looked to be in pretty bad shape himself."

"I think those evil spirits got to them." Said the gushy one, wide eyed. "You know, the horrible things that stopped Henry at the prison? He's still scared stiff."

"Poor Master Lance," said the other. "When he took his plate, I saw it trembling. Must have been pretty awful..."

"Poor Wolf. Let's make Thai food tonight, it's master Lance's favourite," crooned the Head Cook. "He always licks his plate clean when its Thai."

She began to rummage through her cookbooks. The others continued their banter for a while. Then a manservant entered grandly, visibly exited.

"Do you know the last?" He announced. "Master Pidge requested a private conference room. Master Lance joined them, dragging Commander Kogana inside! And they've been closeted in since!"

They all commented at once, losing themselves in their favourite activity : sleuthing. They worried at the slightest bit of information until they had a dozen plausible or extravagant theories.

Some included Lance almost going insane in a spirit attack (they would remake his bed with warmer bedding, poor Wolf), and the commander being subjected to a mutiny.

Lotor having impressed Hunk enough to be included in his list of respected persons sprouted an array of hypothesises. They couldn't pinpoint one in particular, but no matter. If master Hunk wanted them to take extra good care of the alien, then surely he had passed the hardest test.

They put extra care in those little drule pastries Cook had found recipes for in the intergalactic net. They also ordered a special shampoo supposed to enhance white hair, and a nail kit especially made to trim and keep the drule's rather frightening claws nice and neat.

So it was that Lotor made a couple hundred of friends.

***** ***** *****

Short, I know.

Confit d'orange, if you wonder, is a syrupy concoction of candied orange peels, often eaten with potted meats. Steak tartare is seasoned raw meat. It struck me as funny that drules would use warmed tartare as a comfort food! Warm like a fresh kill, Eeewww! ;-) For the milk, serpents like milk, I think. Drules always seemed a bit reptilian to me. Lance loving Thai food is pure projection.

You may guess that the next chapter has Keith, poor guy! ^_^

Real Life is rearing its head, I got a lot of stuff coming. It'll take a little while. I can't write at all when I decide to, just when the inspiration takes over, and it'll be especially hard to squeeze out such an important chapter! Please be patient.

Its been pointed out, in a quite elegant, respectful manner, that I make mistakes. There is no threatening wounds on my pride, everything she pointed out is true and constructive. And that is perfectly welcome and all right. I'll try to improve, but I have to admit I'm a bit lazy, I have a fragile ego, and I'm a little scared of betas, too.

Just so you know, the grammar correction tool I use is Word Perfect's. I correct what it detects. The first few chapters were not corrected. Sorry if I miss things, I don't mean to, really. For the convoluted phrasing, what can I say... its my form of embroidery. Sorry about that also.

I didn't mean for Rose to be a Mary Sue, but at least, she's my Mary Sue. Don't worry, she wont be suddenly revealed to be a powerful magician, telekinetic, or the secret daughter of either a villain or hero! But the plot isn't going to dispel the Mary Sue impression I'm afraid. Oh well. I honestly never thought of that when she appeared in the story. She stays. Cute imps are common in stories, and I like them. She's a key person in events, even if she is not the main character.