Chapter 6:

Being Genre Savvy

Gunfwe Praexhli's hanger is empty of life when they land. The atmospheric shields are automatic, engaging as soon as their shuttle touches down on the deck. A neutral digital voice activates, running through pre-programmed notifications in a half-familiar tone. There are warning lights, flashing steadily, but there are no alarms – at least, none that they can hear.

"What are they saying?" Lance asks, looking up.

Keith follows his gaze to what looks like the windows of a control room. It appears to be empty. It's not a good sign.

"It's a full security lockdown," Coran answers, "Our fault, I'm afraid."

Allura frowns, turning to the doors. She taps the controls and it beeps angrily at her. "We're going to have to bypass the controls."

Hunk hums thoughtfully, his eyes roving over the door, and then he approaches the wall next to it. Hooking his fingers into the edge of a panel, he tugs hard and it opens. He crouches down, takes a good long look, and pokes some things for good measure. "I can get it open – the hydraulics are pretty standard. Just gonna need a few minutes."

"What about the computer?" Allura asks him, leaning over.

"I can handle that," Pidge answers, going for her laptop.

"Nah," Hunk says, already up to his elbows in wires. "I almost got it."

"I can do it," Pidge huffs indignantly, drawing herself to her full height – all five feet of it. "It'll just take a minute."

"Hunk says he's got it," Lance points out.

"We're still going to need to get into the mainframe at some point," Pidge fires back, jabbing a finger in the direction of the control consoles.

"Which will be far more efficiently done if we can get you up to that control room first," Shiro says in a conciliatory tone, intervening at last.

Pidge makes a frustrated noise and rolls her eyes.

"Got it!" Hunk announces. He pulls on something and there's a thud, followed by a grinding series of clicks and then the door hisses as it rattles open.

The corridor beyond is large and dark, emergency lights pulsing softly along the edges near the floor and ceiling. It stretches on, seemingly forever, and Keith feels a shiver slip down his spine, along with an uncomfortable sensation of déjà vu.

He grips his knife in his off hand.

"It's so quiet," Hunk says, peering over Keith's shoulder, and just like that, Keith's okay again.

"Do we have to go in there?" Lance asks. He gives Allura a pleading look. "I've seen Aliens."

Allura blinks, clearly not getting the reference. "Yes, you have. Although, from our perspective, you are the aliens."

Pidge giggles, giving Hunk a nudge with her elbow.

Keith just pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighs.

"Don't you have movies?" Lance asks, gesturing with his hands. "You know, moving pictures, television, telenovelas…"

Allura just shakes her head in confusion. Behind her, Coran shrugs in bewilderment.

"Ugh!" Lance groans dramatically, rolling his eyes skyward and throwing his arms up in the air.

"Are you done?" Keith asks him. "Cause we got stuff to do."

Lance slumps forward and rewards him with an irritated glare.

Shiro, meanwhile, is looking away and trying desperately not to laugh. "I'll explain later," he apologetically tells the Alteans. "I promise."

Allura gives him one of her imperious you'd better glares and, seemingly satisfied that he'd got the message, she enters the dim corridor. "Let's go, team. And stay close. Gunfwe Praexhli isn't just a mining station – it's a prison."

"I thought you said it was a political prison," Shiro says, following her. He keeps her a step ahead of him and to his left, out of the line of fire for his right arm.

"It is," Coran adds. "Or, at least, it was before the war."

"Before the war – as in ten thousand years ago?" Lance pipes up. He's constantly moving his head and eyes, nervously looking at the ceiling and floor, as if something might pop out any second. "Great. A lot can happen in ten thousand years, you know."

Allura sighs loudly and turns. "I know," she admits and when she speaks again, it's obvious she's upset. "But… Gunfwe Praexhli is the best chance we have at finding out if any more of my people survived the war."

"Well, everything here looks pretty well maintained," Hunk speaks up. He raises a fist, knocking it against the wall. "If this place was abandoned, the hydraulics wouldn't have been in such good shape and we'd probably have no power or atmosphere in here."

Keith knows what he's doing – they all do, really: he's assuring her in the way he knows best and that's through sheer mechanical know-how. And it's working, too, judging by the grateful smile she gives Hunk.

"Somehow, I don't think the mines will be like this," Lance observes.

"As far as the Galran Empire is concerned, slaves in their work camps don't necessarily rate this kind of luxury," Coran says pointedly.

"I'm more worried about finding them alive," Allura states, her mouth set in a hard line. "If that rat gslmo cut off their air…"

Keith frowns, a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Suffocation is a nasty way to go. They used to talk about it in the Garrison. It's one of the biggest dangers a pilot could possibly face – well, not counting evil space empires, that is.

Somehow, Keith doubts that the possibility of evil space empires never even crossed their minds. In fact, he can just imagine how absolutely apoplectic it'd make that dick of a Cadet Commander. Then again, who could have even imagined that it'd be a possibility in the first place?

Certainly not them, that's for sure.

They start walking again and Keith can see Pidge fidgeting and chewing on her lip nervously.

Finally, Pidge pipes up, "Do you think it's possible my brother or my dad was sent here?"

Shiro doesn't look at her when he answers: "I don't know. Maybe."

"Most likely not," Coran says gently. He gives Pidge an apologetic pat on the shoulder. "There are many such mining stations like this scattered throughout the Empire and this one – it's always been more a place for political prisoners and dissidents."

"But you don't know for sure, right?" Pidge hesitates, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "It's been ten thousand years. Maybe it's different now. They could have sent them here."

Coran sighs and Pidge looks to Shiro helplessly, silently begging him for help with her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Shiro states, shaking his head, "I can't… I don't remember. I'm so sorry."

Keith can't watch this – no, he doesn't want to watch this. It's bad enough that Shiro has nightmares and memory problems already, but now he'll probably be beating himself up for it, too. And that's no good for anyone, especially if they need to make a hasty retreat and reform Voltron.

"I promise, we'll look for them," Allura says, pausing in her step and hanging back for a moment. She takes Pidge's hands in her own and smiles kindly. "We will find them. You must not give up hope."

She turns, giving Shiro a commanding look. "That goes for you, too."

Keith huffs in annoyance, fidgeting with his knife, and tries to focus on the long walk ahead of them instead. Next to him, Lance is still warily eyeballing the walls and ceilings, just in case any of that nonsense he's stuffed his head with happens to be true.

Keith rolls his eyes at him.

Finally, the corridor starts to get a bit brighter and the dim emergency lighting seems to settle out into the normal dark purple hue characteristic of Galra facilities. A large set of industrial hydraulic doors sits just a little further on. They're covered in thick Galran letters and bright glowing purple strips. An all-too familiar symbol hangs over the door – Keith ignores it.

Shiro slides forward silently and places his right hand on the hand scanner.

And, for a moment, everyone holds their breath.

Then, there is a loud click and the sounds of gears turning, like tumblers in a lock. The massive doors shudder a bit and then slowly rumble back into their housings.

Keith freezes in place.

Behind him, Hunk gasps.

Lance's jaw drops, closes, and drops again.

Shiro has gone a nasty shade of pasty white. He looks like he's going to be ill.

Pidge stands, stock still, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she trembles in silent fury.

"A political prison, for dissidents," Lance manages, finally. He is shaking a little as he presses a hand over his face. "Madre de dios. We should have guessed. We should have known."

Hundreds of fright-filled eyes stare back at them, from sunken, hollow faces. They are dressed in the same jumpsuit and rags that Shiro had been when he'd escaped. Some have mottled skin, others tufted ears instead of longer pointed ears and still others have facial markings similar to those of Allura and Coran. There are elderly and young alike among their number.

These are the prisoners of Gunfwe Praexhli.

They are alive.

And they are Galran.

Notes:

No, Lance, you ARE the aliens.

A glsmo is a very crass and vulgar word for a princess to use, considering it means the target of such a naming is the illegitimate offspring of a species that nests in feces and carries all manner of disease and is lower than scum.