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Hope: The Truest Treasure

Four

Lance needed one of the datapads.

The Toads carried them around attached to their belts, occasionally pulling them into their large hands to thumb through screens, but otherwise the only time they were in use was at the start and end of the day when slaves were assigned their tasks and then during check-in as they were secured to the floor to sleep.

But the datapads were the only link to the outside world in here and Lance… Lance was done waiting. It had been at least a month since his failed escape attempt and with every day that passed by the idea of his team finding him dwindled lower. He hadn't had any more ideas on how to escape again and the guards had taken to chaining both of his ankles down now and even had he been able to get one cuff off in time there was no way to take down two before they were upon him.

If he could just get one of the pads and get a message out… Voltron would be there within the varga, he knew it.

He'd been spending all of his time watching the Toads as they moved, sharp eyes scanning for an opening. He'd found his target three days ago; an olive-colored Toad who most days oversaw the jewel sorting station. He was on his datapad more than the other Toads, propping it up on his extended stomach as he leaned back on his chair and Lance swore he was watching movies or something as he would occasionally let out a wet gurgling chuckle.

He also sometimes fell asleep. It wasn't for more than a couple minutes, normally jolted awake by the clanging of pickaxes or the rumble of the carts. It generally happened towards the end of his shift – because guarding slaves was apparently both very boring and tiresome when you weren't walking around antagonizing them – and Lance knew he would have to act within that few minute window.

He just hadn't figured out how to quite reach it. He'd been experimenting, standing up from the table and testing the length of the chain that secured him to it. He had some give as he had to be able to get up and put the jewels in the proper containers after they'd been cleaned and polished and then to retrieve new rough ones and repeat.

But no matter how he extended himself, even when he was chained at the spot closest to the guard, he couldn't reach. One of the other slaves – Donatello as he sort of looked like a turtle – had given him a side eye when Lance was extending his leg out, toes pointed, but had only hunched over his own jewel pile and pointedly looked away when Lance had caught his eye.

Lance got it. No one wanted to be guilty by association if the guards saw him clearly A; not working and B; doing something suspicious, although honestly Lance doubted pretending not to see would save anyone. It made him feel a bit guilty that he might be roping others into it but he had to try.

He thought it had been a sign from the universe when he'd gotten jewel cleaning duty two days running and this time actually shackled to the last spot, and the guard asleep complete with a rumbling snore, but unless a miracle happened to bring the tablet within his range then–

With a clunk the datapad fell off the Toad's lap, bounced twice and came to rest right next to his foot.

Lance blinked at it. If that wasn't the sign he'd been waiting for he didn't know what was.

He carefully bent over and pulled the pad onto the table and behind the current bowl of cleaning solution, hunching over to further hide it. His heart was racing as trembling fingers pressed on the screen. It lit up with a keypad in foreign characters and what he knew was the universal blank box for a password.

Quiznak.

He had absolutely no idea what would even constitute as a password here, as even typing 'password' was impossible due to the fact none of the characters actually looked like they made out any alphabet he was familiar with. Typing a random sequence wasn't a good idea either as Lance had no idea if it would trigger an alarm.

Did he just put it back? His hands clenched on it. It seemed like a failure then. He had it, a way to communicate if he could just unlock it.

A notification of some sort flashed on the screen and before it could dim Lance tapped it. It was some sort of message, written again in a language he didn't understand, but it had opened up the main page of the datapad. Lance felt a grin tugging up his face. Pidge would have a field day if she knew how poor this security system was to allow for such an easy workaround.

He pinched the screen and was faced with a bunch of icons and text. Which one? His fingers hovered. One sort of looked like a ship outline and there was another that maybe was a scroll? Could that be a communication field?

Lance pressed it. Another text box popped up along with a keypad, but this one was in numbers and he sucked in a breath. It was for a transmission code. It had to be. He reached out, pressing on the '7' and then the '2.' He was going for the '4' when a slimy hand clenched about his wrist with a bruising force and twisted it backwards.

His heart stopped. He hadn't even heard the guard cease his snoring.

He let out a wordless gasp as his arm was wrenched more and he desperately threw out his right hand, swiping at the '5.'

Another Toad was there then, grabbing onto his other hand and another was removing the tablet. They were all shouting, a mixture of common and their own native tongue, and the ones holding onto him were doing so so hard he could feel bruises already forming beneath their fingers as they yanked him up, his ankle unchained somewhere in there, and dragged him away from the table.

Lance barely even noticed, despair swelling to fill every part of him and traitorous tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, the winding tunnels of the mine passing in a kaleidoscope of browns.

He'd been so close. Three more numbers. Three more numbers and he'd have been able to send something and Voltron would have been here and...

And now…

Now…

They secured him to the whipping pole, not even an audience present. He was stripped of his shirt, cold air tingling.

It was replaced a moment later by a hot cord, fire burning into his skin. It was hellfire, cutting deep into him from a heated whip and the Toads shouting and taunting him but the words did not register.

The pain, the agony, slicing into him had nothing on the shattering inside his heart.

He had failed.

He was never going home.

xxx

Lance's stomach was growling. He put a hand on it as he hunkered down on the outskirts of the town, waiting for the shadows to lengthen into night.

He'd woken up that morning, fortunately still secure in the bough of branches, and had remained there for over an hour, just waiting for the sound of a pursuing party and still unable to believe he'd not just escaped but had remained that way.

Eventually his bladder had won out from what felt like half the lake he'd consumed and he'd descended back to the ground level and taken care of business. There were plenty of strange looking plants here in the forest, a mixture of jungle greens and teals in the daylight, but he had no idea what, if any, were safe to eat. And unlike his foray into the lake last night he was thinking a bit more clearly now and did not want to die from a poisonous berry.

He'd filled his stomach as much he could on the water – as if that wasn't safe then he was already screwed – and decided he would be better off waiting until dark to approach the town. So he'd taken to exploring the woods, carving little "L" symbols into the trees with a rock from the lakebed to mark his path.

He'd found a cave set back into a lower set of mountains. He had no idea if they were part of the same chain or a different one, but unlike the mines this one did not seem to have jewel deposits; just a low hanging entrance that gradually grew taller until it widened into a cavern. It didn't look manmade, the walls rough stone and nothing to signify craftsmanship, and Lance took it as a good sign.

He hated the idea of being underground at all after living for however long with only rock to look at instead of sky, but it was a safe place to retreat too and if he were to gather some tree branches he could pretty much disguise it. He had done so and spent the majority of the day sleeping on another pile of hauled in grasses in a sort of nest. It was the most comfortable thing he'd felt in months. He hadn't wanted to sleep but his body had begged for it, his legs still aching from the running and the rest of him sore and exhausted.

He'd slept like a dead man and when he'd awoken it was definitely darker outside. Lance had refused to give into panic and had grabbed the blaster, which he thought still had decent charge but he couldn't read the symbols on the side to know for sure, and then following his trail of marks had gone back to the lake – a quarter mile away – and then further still through the forest the way he'd come, marking it now as he went.

He'd emerged much further down the slope than he'd gone into the treeline, but that was fine with him as the further he was from the mine the better he felt. He'd stuck to the edge of the forest, wary of any Toads who might be patrolling the stone road and on the lookout for him, but to his surprise there was no additional movement. They were apparently stupid and lazy in addition to beyond cruel. At least the first two could work for him.

His stomach growled again and Lance shushed it. His skin tingled unpleasantly as a light breeze stirred the air and goosebumps broke out on his exposed flesh. First order of business after locating a datapad and sending a distress call was clothes and then food. His stomach gurgled at the reminder.

He didn't dare rush in. The streets were empty as far as he could see but the houses - dwellings of an architecture he might have found pretty if they hadn't housed Toads - still had a number of lights on in both the lower and upper levels and he didn't dare risk getting caught now because of a little cold and hunger.

Patience yields focus. A bare smile quirked up his lips as he heard Shiro's intonation, the words devolving often into a mantra as his leader pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed to pray for said patience when dealing with some of their rowdier antics.

Lance couldn't wait to see them again.

He hugged his arms about himself, rubbing his hands on the raised flesh. Just a few more dobashes.

Nearly fifty dobashes later it was finally time to stop saying that. Nearly every set of lights had gone out save for a series of glowing stones - like the ones in the tunnels - that were embedded in monuments that acted as light posts.

Lance moved.

He crept noiselessly forward from the forest and onto the cobbled streets, heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and fear and blaster in hand.. Within a few ticks he was pressed up against the side of one house, hidden slightly from view by a large decorative stone statue next to the door. Trembling fingers reached out to the door knob and Lance sent up a quick prayer that it opened. Otherwise he'd have to resort to other methods that involved bashing out a window and he really would like to avoid the possible noise.

The knob turned and the door slid open without a sound, revealing a darkened interior. Lance gulped and stole inside, easing the door shut behind him. His eyes slowly adjusted to the weak moonlight coming in through the toned windows, which illuminated a sort of gathering room complete with large squishy looking poofs to sit upon and an assortment of knick-knacks. He didn't see any sort of datapad or computer set-up.

Lance bypassed it and headed further in, a short hall leading past a staircase and into a kitchen. It was not the sleek modern of Altean ones but it was more than a cookpot and sink. There was a basket sitting on the table with an assortment of what Lance could only assume was fruit.

His stomach demanded he eat it.

Lance cocked his head in the direction of upstairs where the inhabitants - from what he'd observed in his stakeout would be a male and female Toad (females, or so he gathered, had even larger broccoli ears and additional tufts on the crowns of their head making them look even more like a vegetable) and no children - would be sleeping. There was no sound.

Carefully he reached out and selected the first one he touched; a purplish round orb. A plum, maybe? He raised it to his lips and then tentatively took a bite.

A weak whine was pulled from him at the sheer taste as sweet and sugar and juices exploded on his tongue. Lance scarfed it down in a few bites, no pit his brain barely registered, and licked his fingers clean. He desperately wanted more but he had priorities first. But, he nodded at the bowl, he would be back.

The only other room on the lower level was what he guessed was the bathroom; a low tub taking up most of it with something he supposed was a toilet and a wash basin next to it. There were handles and he tentatively pressed on one, a dribble of water coming out of the spout. Plumbing existed here, good to know.

Unfortunately there was still no sign of a datapad and so he had no choice but to go upstairs. Lance swallowed. It was one thing to have killed the guards, it would be another entirely to kill an unarmed civilian. He'd bash them over the head, he decided, if it came to that, holding the blaster tighter. He didn't want to shed any more blood. Not if it could be prevented.

The stairs did not squeak, carved of stone, and Lance found himself in another short hall with two doors. He eased open the one closest to him, breath catching as it revealed the Toads, sprawled out on a low bed and large stomachs rumbling with their snores as they curled up against one another.

He scanned the room from here but other than a dresser on the far wall and a small table next to the bed, glowing with the lighted crystals, there was nothing. With a sinking feeling he moved to the other room, which revealed some sort of studio complete with an easel and a bevy of paint supplies and brushes.

No datapad.

He hoped he'd had the rotten luck to visit the one house that had older Toads who didn't believe in technology because otherwise… otherwise he was in trouble.

Okay, deep breath. He took several. No datapad here didn't mean this was a complete bust. He still needed clothes and food and those things were available. He'd just have to check another house. It would be fine. He was going to be fine. Everything was going to be just fine.

Lance didn't dare try to sneak into the Toads' bedroom to raid their dresser, so he made do with grabbing a clean dark brown painting tarp off the shelf and also nabbed a pair of scissors (or what he thought were scissors although the handles were huge). The studio also seemed to double as a linen closet and he snatched a pillow case from the stack and dumped his ill-gotten goods into it along with a towel that he spent perhaps a minute too long cuddling against his face and reveling in how soft it was.

He made his way back downstairs and grabbed another one of the fruits, propping the remaining ones up to hide their missing fellows. A small closet pantry held an assortment of goods in wrappers he didn't understand but he grabbed a couple from the back, praying they weren't freeze-dried flies or something of that nature.

A cursory check outside the windows revealed no one in the street and Lance, pillow case in one hand and blaster in the other, exited and carefully moved down the street to the next house. It too was unlocked (and a check on the door revealed there wasn't actually a lock and Lance silently snorted; they were so concerned with security and locking the slaves down for every minute outside of the two for the bathroom and here they couldn't even lock their front doors) and Lance crept in to the near identical house.

There was no datapad here either.

He ended up visiting four different homes, darting over to a second cluster just in case he'd found the senior citizens or something, but there was not a lick of technology to be found in any of the houses.

The fruit he'd eaten earlier churned unpleasantly in his stomach as reality sunk in.

There was no way for him to contact Voltron.

He knew the technology existed, but for whatever reason the citizens of this planet did not seem to be privy to it. He glanced up the large hill towards where the castle sat, lorded over by the king he heard the Toads often talk about with great reverence.

The castle would have technology.

It also had guards, he discovered upon making his way towards it.

A lot of guards.

Lance ducked down, heart hammering at the sight, but despite his head popping around the corner of a large archway that led to the path none of the guards seemed to have noticed him.

Even if he'd had his bayard Lance didn't think he could have taken them all out and they were too closely spaced around the entire front gate and wall to duck through. The back side was out as well as the castle sat atop a mountain of its own that a careful skirting around of the castle revealed and he had no hope of climbing up.

He was not getting into the castle undetected. And even if he did manage to get in, tripping alarms and alerting guards in the process, there was no guarantee he'd even be able to access their transmission system to send a message due to their security.

And that meant…

That meant he wasn't getting off this planet.

That meant he wasn't going to go home.

He was never going to go home.

A strangled sounding sob worked its way up his throat and he dropped the pillowcase to fist a hand against his mouth to hold it in, even though it was doubtful anyone could hear him out in the fields.

He'd failed. He'd gotten this far and it didn't even matter. All those months – years? – of pain and labor and dying hope were for nothing.

Hope.

He raised his head, ocean eyes blurred with tears.

That was right.

He'd only tried again, only tasted this freedom because of the hope that Hope had restored in him.

And she was still in the mines. She was still hurting and scared and lonely and he had made a promise to save her.

Maybe he couldn't get her off this planet but he could certainly get her out of the mines. He could get all the slaves out of the mines.

What came after that he had no idea but he knew he'd have done anything to breathe fresh air again and see the sky and to escape the chains. Surely they would be the same. Surely they would all wish to join him in even this extent of freedom where their lives were their own.

Lance picked up his dropped bag and straightened, squaring his shoulders.

He had no idea what the future would hold except for one thing. And that thing? That would be a jailbreak. Or, well, mine break but a jailbreak sounded way cooler.

Either way things were about to break.

And maybe…

He grinned sharply.

Maybe they'd blow up a little too.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Y'all seeing the pattern yet for the flashbacks to present? ;p It was fun to work in and definitely helped me sort this fic out a bit. But yes, this chapter, I give Lance things and then I take other things away. Balance, balance balance. His plans for reaching out to Voltron are shot and with it his hopes of reuniting with the team (how cruel am I? Answer: very; told y'all not to get your hopes ;p) but he's still not going to quit because there are people who are counting on him and need him. Time to go rescue Hope!

Please do leave a comment before you go. I'd love to hear from you; favorite part, line, predictions, reactions, etc. Thank you!