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As Color Fades Away
Chapter Ten
All good escape plans depended on one thing. Surprise. And Lance had to admit that whatever he ended up doing was going to be a surprise to him too. He was a little afraid he was taking the whole thinking outside the box and adaptable to change idea a little too seriously, but in his defense he really didn't have much to work with.
The only real decision he'd made in his escape plan was that he needed a weapon. A blaster would be preferable as it was his dominant weapon, as well as the fact his right hand was out of commission and the idea of trying to swing any type of sword (and given that it'd be a Galran sword it would no doubt be large) with his left hand and bringing a very sharp, very dangerous weapon in reach of his body with his weaker side was something he'd prefer to avoid.
But.
If that was what weapon presented itself Lance would take it. He was only going to have one chance at this.
To get that weapon he needed to incapacitate the guard. How he planned to do that was another matter entirely.
The Galra had him beat easily in both height and width, and that didn't even take into the account the fact they were wearing suits of armor and weapons while he was sporting the half-naked look with bare feet and a broken wrist and a charming, witty personality.
The odds were not in his favor.
The odds got even worse if the guard sent to retrieve him for whatever this next phase or round or newest interrogation was Theodore. Because Theodore was not only huge even compared to his fellow Galra, he hated Lance and he would not be one to be thrown off balance again by a quip or an out of place smile.
His wrist ached at the reminder of the commander and he cuddled it closer to him.
What he really needed was a Pidge-sized Galran guard, for some reason wearing no armor and carrying a blaster in easy reach for Lance to commandeer.
He snorted.
Yeah. Right.
The other part of his grand master escape plan relied on obtaining some piece of Galra tech so he could access the doors and then ultimately a ship. He was thinking a sentry's hand would be the most viable option and he knew from previous missions that they always worked. But sentries traveled in organized packs and getting in close enough to somehow incapacitate one and remove its hand while avoiding blaster fire from the other ranks seemed more than a bit impossible.
It was why Lance had shoved that part of the plan into the "cross that bridge when it appeared" folder because his first priority was to get out of the cell.
Of which he still had no idea how exactly that was working.
All of this relied far too heavily on what circumstances brought and Lance had no way of knowing who would show up or even when. For all he knew they were dumping him in this cell for another few days. He cringed at the thought. Now that he wasn't feverish or suffering massive dehydration - he was still thirsty though and his stomach ached with hunger - he was becoming aware of how small this cell really was. It was really a glorified closet with the only good thing being the ceilings were so high.
Still, now that he was aware of it the walls did indeed seem to be moving in despite the fact he repeatedly told himself that no, they were not, and the light wasn't dimming either. It was all in his head and although the Galra might eventually be wanting to kill him the cell was not like the cryopod and being controlled by a hijacked crystal virus.
He was fine.
Or, well, as fine as one got in this sort of situation.
He had taken to humming as it did not hurt his throat nearly as much as singing or talking and it gave him something to concentrate on and force the non-moving walls backwards. It was comforting too, his chest vibrating with the song.
He had just finished the verse of his current song when the door slid open with a sharp hiss and Lance blinked rapidly against the brighter purple light now spilling into his cell.
Two Galrans.
He cursed inwardly as he had no idea how to incapacitate one Galran let alone two. But on the positive neither one was Theodore and that was a good thing, right?
Right.
He had to find something good about this situation.
Okay, so plan. The two Galrans had paused in the threshold to the cell, directly across from him. They were also very much so blocking his one exit.
He needed to get them to move.
Which meant he needed to get them inside the cell. Once there he could trap them in it and then make a break for it. He'd only have a few seconds thanks to the camera, but maybe if he was lucky the Galran assigned to watch it was on a coffee break?
He shook his head. Belay that. Focus.
How to get them to move into the cell?
Simple. Refuse to move himself.
He winced. That... that probably wouldn't end well for his wellbeing. But he needed them to come in, he needed them to come close so he could retrieve a weapon and then hightail it out of there.
Piece of cake.
Step one, try to get them off balance, to lower their guard from the rigidity they were holding themselves.
And so Lance mustered up the best smile he could and lifted his left hand into the air in a half-wave. "Hi guys," he greeted. "Is it time for another round of torture the Paladin already?"
They didn't so much as blink.
"Well, I was thinking," Lance said, trying to keep his voice steady as one of the Galrans stepped into the cell, "we could switch it up. Maybe pin the tail on the Galran? If you guys have tails, I can't really tell with your armor. Maybe stab the claw instead?"
"Cease your prattle, Paladin," the guard who had stepped inside scowled. He shifted his blaster - it was too large, Lance realized with a grimace - in his hands as though warning Lance what awaited. "Get up."
But...
Lance's eyes zoomed in on the smaller gun clipped in a holster on the guard's belt.
Bingo.
"I said to get up," the Galran snarled and Lance held out his left hand in a stop motion, hoping it was somewhat universal.
"Easy there big guy," Lance said. "No need for violence yet. I'm getting up. See?"
And Lance did have to give points to this Galran, as he was kind enough to let Lance awkwardly scramble to his feet using only one arm and the wall to pull himself to his feet. His chest twinged at the movement and he felt a rush of vertigo at his new position but forced it away. He was fine. Escape attempt time, remember? No time to be dizzy.
He eyed the gun holster again, about his chest height thanks to the Galran's size. It looked like the holster was pretty secure but the blaster handle was sticking over the edge for an easy grab and the safety strap holding it in was disconnected.
It was like the Galran was asking for Lance to steal it.
Now...
How to go about getting it.
The guard was beginning to become annoyed at the time Lance was taking to steady himself and reached forward to grab his upper arm.
And Lance decided now was as a good a time as any.
He shot out his left hand, angling for the blaster. The guard though pivoted and Lance's hand instead slammed with a dull smack against his armored stomach.
It hurt just as much as it sounded.
Lance offered up a weak grin even as he felt his stomach dropping because that had been his chance and he had very, very much just failed. "Uh, my hand slipped?"
Yellow eyes narrowed at him and within the span of a tick the guard's hands had shot out and encircled Lance's neck, bodily lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the cell wall. Lance gasped out a cry as his head took the brunt of the hit and compounded on top of it there was a sharp shock that made him yelp on the back of his neck.
He idly wondered if because of their fur Galrans conducted static electricity.
The grip around his throat tightened and Lance gagged, bringing his left hand up and futilely scratching and trying to pry the purple hand off.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
His right hand joined the left for all the good it did, merely jamming his broken fingers against the grip and sending a jolt of pain through him as dark spots danced in his eyes.
He could vaguely hear the Galran laughing and it only spurred him to struggle more although his limbs were growing heavy and his hands were slipping off to hang as dead weight by his side.
Dead weight.
Dead.
Like he was about to be.
And then there was air as the Galran loosened his hold ever so, still keeping Lance pinned to the wall but no longer constricting his airflow as tightly. Lance choked on his inhale, greedily trying to fill his lungs.
The Galrans were talking now, laughter interspersed and Lance heard the word "pathetic" thrown in over his harsh pants.
"N-not," he gasped, feet scrabbling against the wall and hands returning back to grab at the Galran's hand as fight returned with his air.
"Not pathetic?" the guard asked, snorting. "Not from where I'm standing, Paladin."
Standing.
Lance paused his struggles.
The Galran was standing. He was holding Lance against the wall, his own height now on par with the Galran's.
To where if he bunched his feet up and kicked out...
They would collide dead center with the guard's chest and maybe, maybe, knock the Galran down, or at least make him stumble.
They wouldn't be expecting it, not at this point.
The question was, would it be enough?
There was only one way to find out.
Lance pulled his knees up, pressing his feet flush against the wall, and feeling muscles cord in his legs as he pushed down.
One shot.
Go.
He snapped his legs out in front of him, driving heel first into the Galran's chest.
It hurt, bare feet on armored plates were not a good combination, but it worked.
The guard let out a loud oof and stumbled backwards, hand releasing from around Lance's neck and he dropped to the ground, barely managing to get his feet under him and landing in a feral sort of crouch.
He had no time to waste.
Lance lunged forward towards the still stumbling guard, realizing his mistake within the moment as habit had sent his right hand reaching out and broken hands brushed against the blaster handle. He forced them to wrap about it, swallowing back the scream as bones ground upon one another, and yanked it free.
He had a gun.
He had a gun.
There was no time to celebrate though as the guard, even as he fell backwards, was lifting his larger blaster up for a shot.
Lance shot first.
His broken index finger curled around the trigger and blast of purple light seared through the cell, closing the mere foot gap between human and Galran and at that range the armor stood no chance. It pierced through the right shoulder and the guard let out a bellow of pain. He went down a moment later and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack.
He didn't move.
Lance had to though, barely throwing him to the side in time as a laser blast sailed just past him from the other guard. A second shot followed a tick later and it whistled just past Lance's head and he wondered if the blast was set to stun or if this guard was indeed trying to kill him.
He didn't want to find out.
Lance dropped into a roll, crying out as he landed on his broken wrist, but forced back the pain and shot out of the roll, already firing.
The first shot hit the Galran's shoulder just as he had done to the other and a second shot smashed into the guard's arm that was supporting the bulk of his own large blaster.
He too yelled out as the gun fell from his disabled hand and Lance wasted no time, darting around him and into the open hallway. A quick glance to the left showed a pad with a single button and praying it wasn't Galra-only activated, Lance pressed it.
The metal door slid down and trapped both Galrans inside, leaving Lance outside clutching his stolen gun and shaking in a mixture of shock and surprise.
He'd done it.
He'd actually done it.
A somewhat hysterical sounding laugh bubbled in his throat and he tamped it down.
Not now.
This was only step one.
And he couldn't wait around here. The place would be crawling with guards and sentries any moment and he needed to be long gone.
Lance painfully transferred the gun to his left hand, having to pry his fingers off the trigger, and then pulled his right forearm against his stomach and hoped he could keep it there and out of the way. Adrenaline was making the pain fade but he knew it wouldn't last forever.
Just long enough.
Glancing both ways down the hall, he shrugged and picked to go left, as he recalled going right out the door to meet with Zarkon and he'd really rather avoid any chance of finding the throne room. If he had that sort of luck his escape would be over before it really got started.
His bare feet made almost no sound, but he was sure his wheezing breaths were giving him away. He couldn't help it though; he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs between being nearly choked to death and the increasing trepidation of being found.
He prayed as he he hurried through corridors, each corner that he rounded with no enemy in sight doing little to provide any relief. He could hear footsteps starting up now, the clank of metal harsh on the narrow corridors of the base and he shuddered.
Sentries.
A lot of sentries.
And while he needed to still obtain a hand from one of them he realized now was not that time. He needed to regroup, to breathe, and find a more opportune moment than trying to face down an entire squad.
Think think think.
He was passing doors, all of them the handle-less version of his cell and a keypad outside of them.
He resisted the urge to press on one as no doubt he would get an error message since he was not a Galran or sentry. He had been really lucky the one at his cell had closed as it had.
He didn't expect that luck to hold.
Lance paused at the entrance to the newest hallway he had run down, chest heaving and taking a moment to observe and try to regain his breath. Sharp eyes scanned the corridor, looking for some sort of inspiration.
Door, door, another door, a vent, a door... Lance dragged his gaze back to the large ventilation cover. He'd been joking in his mind about escaping via air ducts like Pidge had when giving Sendak the run arouund in the castle but...
But here one was.
Would he fit though was the million dollar question.
Lance's feet carried him over to the grate and he sized it up. Yes, he probably could fit assuming it didn't get any narrower. But it was so dark. And small.
He whimpered low in his throat at the thought of willingly going into such a thing. What if he got stuck? What if the vent kicked on and sucked out all the air or he was roasted alive or –
No.
He had to do this. This was his one chance.
And he was a Paladin of Voltron, right? Paladins weren't scared of small, dark, tight spaces.
Lance shivered.
The pep talk was not working.
But the footsteps sounding closer?
Those did the trick.
Lance jammed the nozzle of the blaster underneath the bottom corner of the grate and pulled on it like he would a crowbar.
The grate squeaked, the bottom screw straining under the pressure.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears.
He managed to pry it fully off on the right corner, the open space as wide as the blaster.
Lance forced his right arm in and bracing it against the interior of the vent pushed, choking back the scream as his wrist protested the action but it worked as he widened the hole. Before he could waste the opportunity, both arms straining at the pressure, Lance ducked his head in and then his shoulders, scratching them on the grate and grimacing as he felt new scratches cut into his flesh.
A moment later though he had his torso through and his legs scrambled to keep up and after one awkward position later as his feet tried to get in past the rest of him he was inside the vent and the grate was snapping back down with a dull clang as the resistance let go.
Lance hoped they didn't hear that.
He backed away from the cover, noting that yes, the vent did indeed shrink almost immediately after its opening, and on top of that it was sloping upwards.
He was going to have to army crawl.
With a broken wrist.
Somehow holding onto the blaster.
In a pitch dark tunnel that was barely the width of his shoulders and no end in sight.
Lance swallowed back the low sob of terror.
He could have escaped only to get stuck and die in a vent. Like... like some rat lost in a maze.
He couldn't do it.
The footsteps sounded, in his hallway now and Lance propelled himself backwards away from the opening, trying to hold his breath and tears inside.
He saw the outline of sentry legs passing by, at least ten in the squadron. More would follow. Galrans would follow. There were only so many places he could be and they would find him.
And then...
Then they wouldn't kill him.
They would bring him back to Haggar and Theodore and then he would wish he was dead because they would interrogate him until he broke and betrayed his friends and he could not do that to them. He had to protect them.
And if that meant facing down the narrow, dark tunnel that made him feel physically ill...
Lance gulped.
He would do it.
He brought the blaster around to his front, doublechecking to make sure it was turned off so he didn't accidentally shoot himself, and held it to his chest with his right forearm, trying to protect his wrist as best he could.
He positioned himself on his stomach, feeling the top of the vent brush the top of his head and his shoulders press into the sides.
And stifling the sob of oncoming panic, Lance pushed forward.
xxx
"He escaped?" Haggar repeated the words back to the messenger, who cowered before her.
"Y-yes, Lady Haggar. He..." the mere foot soldier swallowed heavily, purple antenanes quivering. "He overpowered the gu-guards."
Haggar resisted the urge to scowl. Of course. The one time she did not have the commander escorting the Paladin he had pulled something like this. She should have expected it, honestly. He was a Paladin of Voltron, not some mere prisoner.
But she had required the commander's assistance with phase three of her plan and as such he was not available to bring the Paladin to her for one more round of saliidda inspired interrogation, this time with the addition of a few more... sharper tools of persuasion. She could not wait to hear the sound of his screams as a knife pierced into his flesh again and again.
It would be delightful.
And now she couldn't hear it.
Because her Paladin had escaped.
But not for long.
Haggar waved her hand, smirked as the Galran flinched, clearly expecting to feel pain, but she merely pulled her datapad out of her space pocket.
It was simple. The Paladin's vital monitor also relayed his coordinates. It would be a simple matter of finding the location and then determining which floor he was on. She pulled up her diagnostic sheet...
And frowned at the screen.
For instead of the regular makeup of the Paladin's vitals – which when she had last checked nearly a varga ago had been steady as his body remained in an unconscious state from the commander's actions – there was instead a flashing error code of no signature.
Every single one of them was the same; his heart rate, body temperature, and of course the tracking.
She scowled. What had those imbecible Galrans done now?
Haggar flipped to the camera software of the Paladin's cell and moved to the previously recorded footage. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the proceedings of what had led to the human's escape and narrowed further as one of the guards and grabbed the human about the neck.
He had crushed her device.
The fool.
Calm, she told herself. There was nowhere for her wayward Paladin to go, not on this ship.
He would be found.
And he would regret ever thinking he could escape her.
"All soldiers are to commence in the search of the Blue Paladin," she said, fixing a dangerous yellow glare upon the still cowering Galran. "If he is not found within the varga..." Her smile turned dark. "I shall hold you personally accountable."
The solider did not argue but merely gave a shuddering bow and practically fled from her sights.
Haggar could still not believe Zarkon had such pathetic creatures in his employ.
She sighed, looking longingly at her setup of knifes she had lovingly selected.
Later, she told herself.
And perhaps...
Perhaps this futile escape would work in her favor.
She chuckled then, the sound echoing about the room.
Yes.
She would go join in the fun.
She had always loved a good hunt after all. And the screams the prey made when it was captured...
Music to her ears.
xxx
Lance stopped, almost not believing what he was seeing.
Light.
He blinked several times at it, expecting it to fade away.
It stayed.
Light.
A mangled sob worked its way up his throat and he desperately pushed himself forward, practically clawing at the metal vent beneath him.
An exit.
Lance had no idea how long he had been in the vent except it had been too long. The only change to it had been the elevation as it dipped and turned and rose in a dizzying black spiral. He'd had to stop a few times, unable to move any further as exhaustion and fear and hurt and panic that morphed into frozen terror had pressed in. The harsh scent of copper had been overwhelming in the already stale air and Lance had nearly vomited several times, unable to even curl up and try to quell his stomach as fear churned it wildly.
It was only the thought of his friends that spurred him to keep moving. He had to get out of this vent, had to escape, for them.
And now he finally was at the end of the tunnel. Or, well, he was making it the end.
He could not stay in here another minute.
He was at the newest vent cover within the minute, left hand hooking painfully into the grating and he almost started crying in sheer relief as the vent above the grate was tall enough that he could actually sit up and he did so, burying his head into his upturned knees and letting loose a muffled sob he had been holding in.
It was going to be okay. He was almost out.
Almost home.
The thought had him pausing.
He'd never quite thought of the castle as home, not in the way his room he shared with his two brothers was or even the Garrison dorm room he and Hunk had decorated with everything they could think of. But... but he supposed it was.
He had his room, piled high with knick-knacks from his travels in space, his plants, his collection of quilts spread out on the bed. And while the halls were empty and most of the castle echoed, the kitchen where Hunk could often be found was homey, the lounge comfortable and full of fond memories of movie nights and pillow forts. And Blue. A tearful smile tugged up his face.
He always felt at home with Blue, her presence like the softest blanket as it wrapped about his mind.
Yes.
The castle was home.
Which meant that...
That his friends were his family.
The thought brought another smile to his face and Lance rubbed tearlined eyes against his knees.
Family.
His space family.
That's what they were, after all. They had been through too much, meant too much to him, to be mere friends. Well, most of them, he winced. He wasn't sure if Keith even considered him a friend let alone a something as intimate as a brother. And Allura... he pressed his head harder against his knees. He didn't think she liked him very much. She didn't dislike him, per se, but she never called him by his name or wanted spend any time with him... well, she didn't do that for the others either. Shiro seemed to be the only one outside of Coran who she spoke with. But, he supposed, she was a princess and he hadn't done himself any favors constantly flirting with her... even though she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. He felt his cheeks flush and shook his head.
But even if they didn't think the same of him or hold him in the same regard...
Lance knew he loved them still.
And he would do anything and everything to make sure they stayed safe.
Which brought him back to this escape.
He eyed the grate in front of him, the pale purple light filtering in not overly bright and lending to his idea that he was not in a hallway. There were no sounds from down below either so maybe he had actually had a spot of luck and this exited into an empty room?
Maybe a hangar?
He felt a sudden giddiness at the prospect of a ship being so close before he remembered he still had yet to obtain a sentry's hand.
Still.
In any case he needed to get out, which meant he had to remove the grate. He didn't dare risk shooting it open in case the laser ricocheted, which meant he was left once more with his feet. If it was anything like the other grate the screws were on the outside so if he applied enough pressure he might be able to push it off.
Hopefully.
Lance angled himself as best he could so his feet were pressed up against the grate covering, the metal lines already digging into his bare soles and he tried not to think about what would happen when he pushed them against the sharp edges, and then tucked his knees back towards himself to put as much force behind the kick as he could.
And go.
He kicked his feet forward, choking on scream as metal sliced into his feet, but the grate did indeed go flying off, shooting like a champagne top off into the unknown room.
Lance stilled himself as much as he could as he heard the grate come to a clanging halt.
No footsteps sounded.
He counted out two full dobashes before he dared inch forward, sticking his legs out of the hole.
They hovered.
This grate apparently was not conveniently located on the ground like the previous one.
He ducked his head under the top, left arm gripping the edge of the inside vent, and surveyed below, stomach dropping as he realized how much he was going to have to drop to get out of the vent.
Fifteen feet, he'd guess, in a dead plummet. There was nothing below the vent to use to cushion his landing either, although the room itself was chock full of boxes and... spare uniforms? He'd apparently ended up in some type of storage closet by the looks of it.
He had the sudden image of trying to disguise himself in the uniforms and couldn't hold back the snort of laughter at what a picture he'd make. Hunk could maybe, and that was a big maybe, be able to fool someone if the helmets had full faceplates due to his size. But Lance? He'd look like a little kid playing dress up. And unlike the cartoons he doubted the Galrans would be so easily fooled.
None of that mattered though if he couldn't get down.
Think. There had to be something.
He absolutely was not crawling back into the vent again. Never again. His heart pounded just thinking of returning back into that narrow dark passage.
No ideas came to him though as he stared down at the drop. He had no rope and nothing he wore would be enough to act as one either, assuming he had the ability to tear through the super durable Altean undersuits. A glance at the blaster showed it did not magically turn into a grappling hook, as the only controls on it were a charge port and the safety switch he'd already engaged.
There was only one option left.
Jump.
He felt his heart leap into his throat tat the thought of it.
If he'd had the use of his right hand he'd have shimmied out backwards from the vent and lowered himself as much as he could to decrease the fall. But his right arm was deadweight and after the incident with the guards and now carrying the blaster and dragging it along the bottom of the vent floor he couldn't even get the fingers to clench. He really hoped he hadn't messed it up anymore with that.
He had to jump.
And...
And just hope for the best.
Maybe he could channel a cat. They always landed on their feet, right? No, no, he shook his head, a small smile quirking up his lips.
He'd channel a Lion. He piloted one after all, maybe some of Blue's gracefulness had rubbed off on him.
And with a final prayer under his breath, Lance pushed himself out of the vent and plummeted towards the floor below.
Author's Notes:
A whole chapter and Lance is still on the loose inside the ship. Perhaps this shall be a successful escape after all (contrary to all of you naysayers :p Or not, and then y'all are right xD). Still, he's gotten farther than I think even he thought he'd manage so brownie points for Lance :D
I'm not sure how many of y'all are still in school/classes/college, etc., but round here today is the last day! Hope y'all are finished too (or nearly finished) so you can have a nice summer break. I will admit to jealousy right now and sort of wish I could transport myself back to college xD
Starting to sound like a broken record (but in a good way!), with how how much you guys just blow me away. Y'all are fantastic and I can't believe that there are so many that are enjoying this fic. Just makes me feel all giddy :D All of you are great, but the best of the best are the lovely reviewers!
Shout out this week goes to: Dragon Queene Layla St Gabriel, deaththecripple, ariatheguardianangel106, DoctorMerlinReid, Ranger McCorkren, Melody, Guest, Guest, Bryler, Remi Rukh, SonoSvegliato, Jadegem02, Ace.s., wingedflower, Guest, Swirly Rainbow, LishaChan, cookiebook322, StrawberryFever3, Abbeyisactualtrash, Lady Zephyr, Alexa, ThatOneFanTrash, Livetheluffy, rotini, sally3015, and PaintedWings45.
Would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story! Favorite line (or reference since Lance is an abundant fountain of them), scene, guesses as to what happens, what you want to see happen, overall feelings, etc. Love every single one and really appreciate them. Thanks everyone and see you next Friday!