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Hope: The Truest Treasure

Five

It had been obvious early on that the jewels were the basis for the Toads' livelihood. Lance had noticed on good days, where a deposit was found or a particularly beautiful gemstone was cleaned and unearthed that the Toads were not quite kinder, but were a little less prone to shows of violence. They spoke often, not caring if the slaves overheard or not, about values and markets and current demands or deals their king had made.

They relied on the jewels.

And therefore, they relied on the slaves.

Unfortunately, whatever value they got for their precious gems outweighed the life of a slave as other than Doctor Day there was practically no effort to keep them alive and one slave was as good as another. Lance had only seen one exception since he'd come here; a larger alien, as large as the Toads in girth but resembling more of a rhino but with no horns and huge paws that almost looked like shovels that he'd taken to calling Stampede.

Stampede had been injured in a mine blast, part of the ceiling coming down on his group. The Toads had had them free all of the slaves but while two that had been badly crushed had been shot on sight – Lance would never forget the sound of Petunia's terrified squeals and way her hooves had scrambled into some semblance of a prayer as the blaster was leveled at her head – they had taken Stampede away and two days later he had been back, a swathing of bandages upon him and the guards had not even bothered him for sport for the whole week.

Some, Lance learned then, were more valuable than others, just as the jewels.

And, he'd discovered upon his escape attempts, he may for whatever reason be one of them. He could think of no other reason why they had not just killed him on sight, showed the other slaves that there was no escaping them.

It might have been his eyes. He'd always said he was the team's sharpshooter because of his impeccable aim, but a large part of that came from his eyesight. He saw things that others didn't. Openings, emotions, flaws, secrets… Hunk may be known as the nosy one but Lance knew if he wanted to he could say a lot about what his teammates kept hidden (or thought they did).

In the mines his eyes had led him from the assigned section directly in front of him to ones he would pivot to, following an anomaly in the stone and more often than not revealed a deposit and one time the golden ore line. When he'd found that he had avoided beatings for almost a week.

He spotted defects in the uncovered jewels when he cleaned and polished them, setting them aside from the true beauties. After the punishment from going to slow, Lance turned out to be one of the quicker sorters, nimble fingers dancing around the gem and eyes cataloguing every facet.

He hated that he had become that.

It didn't really spare him the beatings or the punishments. It didn't grant him extra favors or comforts. All it did was help the Toads and their economy and yet he couldn't stop himself. Finding that ore line, carefully polishing a perfect stone until it nearly glowed were the few satisfactions and brief moments of feeling something other than despair and pain that existed down here. He couldn't give that up. He honestly couldn't have even if he'd wanted to.

It also told him that unless he died in a mining accident or from over exhaustion or became so mangled that there was no hope of repairing him, just like Stampede he was not going to get out of here from a blaster to the head. It was both a comfort and a horror.

And all he could do was keep on as he had been. He listened whenever the Toads would speak, hoping something they said would be of use to him. Some indication of where he was, the size of the town, the disposition of the rest of their people.

It was always jewels. Eight of the red jewels had brought in four new slaves. The gold ore vein had secured the next month's entire food stock. The small bright white gems had been inlaid by some craftsman in town and had gone for such a sum that they were hiring contractors to repave road to the palace.

Jewels, jewels, jewels.

But…

Everything on this planet was dependent upon the jewels.

Which were dependent upon the slaves.

Which…

Which meant that if there were no slaves.

Then there were no jewels.

And then there was no livelihood for the Toads.

Which would mean no more Toads.

Lance had smiled sadly and shaken his head. It all meant nothing. Not to a bound and chained slave like him.

And trembling fingers had reached for another jewel.

xxx

It all may have meant nothing then but right now it meant everything.

The idea had come to Lance that evening after he'd made his way back to his cave and had been laying out his stolen supplies.

Supplies that the Toads purchased with their jewels that the slaves mined for them.

Supplies that they could only get with jewels. Lance had seen, in his perusal of the town and escapades through the forest and fields, no signs of agriculture or livestock, indicating that they did not grow any of their own food. He had seen a few more studios in the homes so it seemed as though the Toads here were skilled with artistry of a sort but other than that?

Nothing.

There were no stores despite the fact he'd circled the entire town when he came back away from the castle. No restaurants. No clinics.

There had been parks with beautiful archways and gleaming pools decorated with fountains. There were paintings and murals and carefully tended flower arrangements.

But that was it.

The Toads exported nothing except the jewels and craft made from them and imported everything else.

Take away the jewels… and the Toads had nothing.

And nothing meant they couldn't continue as they had been. They couldn't buy more slaves.

No one else would have to suffer the fate he and the others had.

And all the ones that had already tasted the Toads greed and rage… he would free them and they could live out the rest of their lives as peacefully as they could.

As much as it pained Lance to wait, he knew it would be best to enact his plan in the overnight hours, which meant he had to wait an entire day. It was simple in concept but he knew it would likely not go so smoothly and the cover of darkness and less guards (assuming they hadn't increased ranks) stationed by the slaves the better.

He would go in hopefully undetected and make his way to the mining area first which should be empty at the late hour (although he had no idea if they stationed guards in the hall and in that case he'd be firing his blaster a little sooner than planned upon). He'd commandeer the explosives they used in the tunnel making and set some of them to go off in about twenty dobashes and destroy what he could of the mining setup.

Then he'd go to the slaves' quarters. He'd kill the few guards stationed in the room; he knew exactly where they would be and the blaster would easily have enough charge to take them out.

Then he'd grab their guns and keys and free the slaves chained to their pallets, arm the ones that looked like they could fire the gun and then hightail it out of there, setting more explosives as he went along the hall.

Once they were all out he would set the last few charges at the front of the mine and then blow the whole thing up. He doubted it would actually bring down the mountain but it would hopefully be enough to block in the entrance. He'd trap the Toads who survived the other detonations in there for at least a while and halt the mining operation for a good chunk of time.

It wouldn't be over then. Not if he wanted to topple the Toads economy and prevent them from being able to buy any more slaves to just start the process again of digging out their mine.

But that would be enough for now. He would focus on the other steps later.

Right now was freeing Hope and the other slaves. Of giving them their first taste of freedom in however many months they'd been down in the mines and Hope the tightest hug he could manage.

Everything else would come later.

Lance didn't waste the morning and afternoon though. After another solid night of sleep, hidden in the cave and away from any search parties although he doubted at this point they were coming, he'd spent the daylight hours fashioning himself a sort of long tunic shirt that he tightened at the waist so it didn't look like he was wearing a giant bag.

He did know the basics of sewing but no matter how hard he looked he had been unable to find anything resembling a needle or thread. Clothes were apparently all imported too and none of the homes he visited did needlemaking. He'd ended up holding it together with a sap from one of the trees that seemed to work as a very thick adhesive.

The tarp was not the softest of materials but it was sturdy and despite the rough edges on his armsleeves and neck hole (the scissors were not made for human hands and his cutting had been very jagged) that descended a little further down his chest than he'd have liked, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever worn because it was his.

He'd had no choice but to keep the threadbare pants for the moment as without them he'd be running around with nothing down there and while the tunic did cut to mid-thigh… his cheeks darkened thinking about it.

He'd debated trying to cut his hair; it wasn't half as long as Keith's horrible mullet, but it was shaggier than he'd like and his bangs were starting to hang long again, but after the (not quite success) of cutting the tarp he decided he'd rather not slice his head open. He had tried out the towel though, along with a bar of soap he'd nabbed from one bathroom.

It had been heavenly. The cold water didn't even bother him as he'd splashed around in the lake, a light sort of fruity scent emitting from the soap and he lathered himself so much he'd created small waves of foam about him. The towel was as soft as it looked and Lance had spent probably too long of a time wearing it wrapped about his waist as he drip-dried in the afternoon sun, relishing the way it warmed his skin and brought a hint of mocha back to the pallor he had developed in the mines.

The one thing the water did reveal though that he wished it hadn't was the sheer amount of scars covering him. He'd known it was a lot; he'd seen his torso and arms whenever he'd lost his shirt and was forced to go without.

But they were everywhere. Long ones, thick ones, brown and pink and white. He'd caught sight of a few strips across the back of his shoulder blades, on the small of his back from when he'd twisted to look. They were accented by bruises in varying colors and burn marks and scratches and some still healing lacerations.

His face was one of the only untouched things, save for a small scar just above his right eyebrow that he'd bet had been from a piece of flying rock. It was hardly noticeable though unless you were really looking and for that he was grateful.

But it still made him feel sick.

He'd pulled his tunic on then to hide the ugly sight of his torso, arms wrapped tightly about his stomach in as much a hug as he could give.

All of those scars still had nothing on his lost voice, marked physically by the two long thin raised lines that ran from his collarbone and up the length of his neck.

Here, out in the open without fear of retaliation from the guards for making noise, he'd tried speaking. Screaming. Crying. The latter yielded a sort of garbled whining noise along with heavy sniffling from his nose, which worked just fine. He could still make panting noises and gasps and click his tongue loudly against his teeth.

Whistling too, still worked. He had spent several minutes doing so until he'd silenced himself as besides the Toads he had no idea what other creatures might live on this planet and he didn't really want to attract anything that saw him as dinner.

But his voice was gone. His words his laugh, even humming… all gone. Devoiced, they'd called it. He at the very least had that knowledge since he'd woken up on the lab table. He doubted most understood at all what had happened to them and that was probably worse.

It still didn't make his own situation better.

But he was about to make everyone's better. He may not be a Paladin of Voltron right now – and, he wondered sometimes what had they done when they couldn't find him. Were they still looking? Had they found a replacement? He hated how such a thought made his heart hurt even though he knew such a course of action was necessary for the universe – but he could still help people. He could still save them.

Thanks to Hope he had the spark to try once more.

And now he was doing it.

He'd made his way without trouble back to the mine, the dark color of his new tunic blending near seamlessly with the tall grasses and the patchy stone. There were no Toads stationed outside of the mine and he'd entered without issue, bare feet landing silently on the paved stone.

Unlike during his escape his breath was not coming out in those desperate gasps but was quiet, barely a whisper. He felt in control this time. Ready. The nearly two days of freedom had done something to him; given him back the peace of mind that had allowed him for hours before to wait for the perfect moment to take a shot.

And this time he had a plan. A really good one, he thought. He knew the layout this time around, as even in his heart-stopping escape his eyes had tracked the curves of the tunnel, the location of each offshoot and room. So long as he got past what seemed to be the guards' rest area of a sort he should be in the clear.

He moved quicker this time along the path, ears straining for any sound of boots on stone or the guttural laughter he'd come to despise.

Nothing.

He passed on from the stonelaid floor to the rough stone and dust where the lighting grew dimmer. It was almost too dark after two days outside in the actual sunlight and Lance blinked rapidly to readjust to it.

This part of the path was longer with more winding paths cut off to the sides where slaves had once worked before moving even deeper into the mountain. He bypassed abandoned work stations and what was likely once a slaves quarters before the work progressed deeper in.

He continued further into an area that was intrinsically familiar; the slave quarters that he'd lived his entire time in to the right and down the widened tunnel and then just past it the offshoot to the bathroom he'd used to escape last time. A couple hundred yards later he saw the whipping pole and the mesh netting and hurried past them even faster, stomach and back aching at the memory.

And beyond that, about a quarter mile down, was the current mining operation. It was there that he hurried to, hands tightening on the blaster and empty pillowcase bouncing against his leg at the sudden change in pace.

There were no guards.

Lance let out a loud breath that he immediately regretted, but there was no reaction anywhere around him. The mines were not occupied here. The lights were fortunately still on (Lance had a feeling they never actually turned off as they certainly didn't in the sleeping quarters) and he hurried past the jewel sorting table – empty now of gems – and further into the deeper part of the active mine.

They'd been focusing less on blasting out new spots as there were plenty of areas to mine right now, but the charges for blowing out more stubborn areas were always on hand. And, Lance's grin sharpened, there they were.

He'd only used them twice himself as he was not often on the excavation crew, but they were simple enough in theory. They were nowhere half as advanced as an Altean version would be but they were a step up from the cartoon dynamite and lighting a fuse. There were three knobs on each charge, which was the shape of a brick and about the size of Lance's hand, that could be turned to a detonation sequence.

There we no numbers but Lance had paid enough attention to figure out the approximate times. The green was for two minutes and meant for quick projects, the blue just shy of ten and the red nearly twenty for when they were to be laid deeper into the tunnels. Lance knew that one firsthand as he had been forced to crawl and place those ones as he was more slender than most of the slaves down here.

He was loathe to let go of the gun but it was foolish to handle the charges as anything but death blocks and he needed both hands. He carefully set the blaster on the ground behind him, heart leaping into his throat, and proceeded to untie the pillowcase and shake it out.

Very, very carefully he began to load up the charges into the bag, doublechecking each one to make sure it was set to the gray knob of "off." He ended up with thirty-two total in the bag and left eight out.

Licking suddenly dry lips Lance held one of the remainder in his hands. Once he set it… he would have less than twenty minutes to get down the hall, take out the guards, free the prisoners and get out of the mine all while setting more charges along the way.

He could abandon this plan. Just free the slaves and get out and leave the mines intact. But that would just invite the king to buy more slaves, for more people to suffer. No. He had to do this and this would be his one opportunity.

With a shuddering exhale Lance set the charge to red. He placed them all about the entrance to this section of the mine tunnel and along the one wall where they looked to be in the process of building supports but had not finished.

He gave a nod at his handiwork, several dull red pulses greeting him, and took off back the way he came, blaster in one hand and the other holding the bag of charges as steady as he could from where he'd retied them on his belt, hating how the entire thing was tugging uncomfortably on his tunic.

He paused three times to set more twenty minute charges the length of the hall on his way to the slaves quarters, one on each side of the hall.

Oh Dios, he hoped this worked.

It was right outside the entrance to the bathroom offshoot that he paused and slid his bag of explosives to the ground. There was no noise coming from beyond as it was well into the night now and everyone save the four guards on duty should be asleep.

He was about to send them into a permanent one. His hands were sweaty on the blaster as despite having done so already and committed to killing again it wasn't such an easy thing to simply do. In practice, yes, just a push of the trigger but in theory? No.

But he was on a literal countdown now and he had no time to waste. It would be over in less than ten ticks.

And go.

Leaden feet surged forwards, stepping out from the alcove into the room. He took in the slaves, hunkered down on the floor in one blink and the four guards, stationed in each corner in the next.

Two were dead before they'd even had time to realize he was there, the third managing to pivot on his seat and the fourth raising his blaster with a strangled croak before a beam got him between the eyes before he could fire.

Six seconds.

The only sound as Lance's last shot fell away were the thumps as the bodies hit the floor and the clanking of chains as two slaves who had been awake – Amber and Stampede – sat up. Amber's eyes were not narrowed as normal but wide with something Lance had only seen in himself a few days ago.

Hope.

He offered her a tight smile as he stepped fully into the room, gun still at the ready, and while she did not return it there was a tremble to her lips. As Lance made his way to the closest guard to relieve him of his keys, he was grateful to see both other slaves begin to rouse those around them and within the minute the clanking of chains and harsh gasps and some sounds of crying began to sound about the room.

Lance turned and pressed a finger to his lips, hoping the universal sign for quiet applied and to his relief many stifled their cries and the worst of the clanking stopped.

There were so many slaves to unchain – forty-six total – but Lance only had eyes for one little girl as she was roused by her neighbor, yellow eyes glowing in the dimmer light. They caught his and a smile brighter than any sun stretched across her face, a soundless word passing her lips.

Lance wasted no more time, kneeling next to her pallet with the key and a moment later the chain was falling loose from her manacled hand. Before it could even hit the ground he was reaching forward, wrapping his arms about Hope's small but broad shoulders and having to blink back hot tears as he felt her own rough hands encircle around him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her bumpy head, gave her one last squeeze, and then released her despite how hard that action was, but they didn't have time to linger.

When he looked back to the rest of the room though it was not impatience he saw in the faces but a softness, even to Amber. Hope had clearly not only brought out the best in him.

He moved quickly then through the ranks, unlocking cuffs and two others – Kuzco and Marble – took it upon themselves to relieve other guards of their keys and Stampede and Lemonade grabbed blasters. Lance dropped his probably nearly empty one and took up a third and handed the fourth to Zebra, who with steady hoof-like hands had nodded her head and shouldered it with a look of determination.

To Lance's relief, everyone remained in the room once freed even though they all had bunched closer together with Hope safely ensconced in the middle. He inclined his head towards the door and made his way towards it. They all fell into a line behind him, their de facto leader.

Lance paused to retrieve the bag of explosives and set about handing them out to slaves with free hands, their own eyes widening in surprise and then settling into a grim realization. There were nods and some fellow harsh smiles.

They moved as quickly as Lance dared with such a large group, as no matter how hard they tried that many bodies were going to make noise as feet – and a two of the aliens had hoof-like ones – tapped the ground and clothing rustled but otherwise they were pretty silent.

It didn't take them long to realize Lance's plan with the charges and every hundred yards or so two slaves would set the charges, now on the ten minute mark, at opposite points in the tunnel.

They had about four minutes now by Lance's count from when he'd set the first charges and he ushered them forward with a bit more haste, only slowing when they were about to encounter any of the blind curves.

It was around one such bend that they spotted the first Toads, likely en route to swap out with the nighttime guard.

Lance didn't pause even as he felt his heart rate spike as all four of the guards went for their own guns with shouts of alarm that would likely rouse others.

He shot two through the head before they could even lift their guns and he was surprised to feel the heat of a laser come from behind him and past. Zebra took out her guard with a single shot through its large mouth and Stampede laid down a small barrage that sent the fourth one down in a pulpy mess. Lance's stomach turned as green ichor oozed on the ground and he was relieved when Dorito placed one of his large orange wings on the side of Hope's head to block her from the gore.

He gestured for them to move quicker now and they needed no second urging. The blasts had not been silent but they did have the advantage of the guards all likely being asleep. They had a couple minutes but they were going to need all of those. Fortunately, they had hit the paved floor and it was but another minute at the current pace to the edge of the tunnel.

Lance saw the moment his fellow now former slaves smelled the fresh air, felt the breeze waft on their faces. Despite the direness of their circumstances he felt a smile bloom as similar expressions crossed their faces, weariness giving way to a hope and peace.

Yes.

This was right.

A moment later they were stepping out of the mountain and onto the path, blue moon shining above and night air crisp and welcoming after the cloying halls of the mines. Lance nudged Zebra, who had remained on his flank the entire time and he knew he had not been remiss in giving her one of the weapons as her jewel-black eyes spoke of someone who had seen battle before, towards the grasses.

She made a whuffling sound of confirmation through her muzzle and began to usher the aliens into said grasses. Stampede and Lemonade remained next to him, guns trained inside the dark mine while Lance knelt and dug out the last six remaining charges, flipping them all to the two-minute switch.

A pair of brown hands took one from him and he looked up, Amber looking down at him. She nodded and began to place the charges in higher spots than he could reach on the mine entrance and he placed his lower on the face. Within the minute they were done and Lance stumbled back to his feet, empty pillowcase in one hand and blaster back in the other, and down the side of the mountain after the other slaves.

The three who had remained with him hurried to follow. They all knew the potency of the blast and you did not want to be next to one when it went off without proper shielding. They'd just set six.

They were about halfway to the treeline when Lance felt the first rumble shake the ground. It wasn't from the cave mouth entrance though and he smiled grimly. That would be the first charges then.

A moment later a near concussive blast rolled beneath them and Lance would have fallen had Stampede not caught him by the back of his tunic and held him steady.

That would be the front of the mountain.

Lance turned to watch it, unable to look away from the destruction as one after the other the charges went off, each one sending a new ripple through the ground and a thunderous crash as rocks tumbled down and dust rose and the faintest sound of possible screaming could be heard before it was overwhelmed by more explosions and rocks falling.

Only when the bursts of explosions seemed to stop did Lance turn his back on the mountain and look towards the trees where the slaves had also all stopped, some in the process of picking themselves back up.

He didn't quite know where he was going to go from here. The future was uncertain and as obscured as the mines covered in debris and dust behind him.

There was no going back now. The only way to go was forward.

And so Lance did.

xxx

Author's Notes:

The hug we were all waiting for. My heart. And sure to be plenty more where that came from now that THEY ARE FREE! Look, I'm so excited I went into caps lock xD

If you enjoyed the chapter/story, please leave a comment below. I'd love to hear from you. Thank you very much and thank you to the amazing people who left one last chapter. I really appreciate it!