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Chapter Text

[RIVLAX - Galaxy ZL-735, Sector 4188]

Akira Kogane didn't know which was the bigger problem––the gunshot wound or the swarm of fighter jets on his tail.

Right now, he didn't have time to prioritize one over the other, so he had to settle for flying his ship one-handed while he clamped his free arm across his bleeding abdomen.

He hadn't even had time to determine exactly where the laser beam had hit him; at the time he’d been shot, he’d been too busy running from his pursuers to take a look at it. It had happened so fast––a sudden blow to his lower back that had burned all the way through him and knocked him flat on the ground.

He’d just leapt to his feet and kept on running, fueled by pure adrenaline. He hadn’t fully comprehended that he’d been shot or realized how heavily he was bleeding until he was already in his ship.

The shock had kept him from feeling the pain at first, but now it felt like his whole torso was on fire. Judging by the warmth spreading between his fingers and trickling down his back, it wasn't looking too good, either.

But he couldn't deal with it right now, even as the effects of blood loss started to kick in. The panel in front of him swayed and blurred. Red warning lights flashed and alarms blared, informing him that the ship was damaged beyond repair.

Akira grit his teeth and glanced at the square screen next to his elbow, which displayed a map of the approaching enemies. He cursed. There were still three of them left, and they were gaining on him quickly.

"Come on, come on ..." he hissed, trying not to panic as darkness began to shroud his vision.

He just had to outrun these jets and land somewhere safe. Up ahead, he could see the beckoning glow of the nearest planet he had located––a planet called Rivlax, according to his map––and he prayed he would be able to get there in time. Just a little further––

The sound of another beam firing echoed across the distance, and the impact crashed against the side of the ship half a second later. The jarring hit sent Akira veering sharply to one side, and he cried out in agony as his wound protested at the sudden movement.

Stars burst and dissipated across his vision as he miraculously managed to right the ship again. He breathed raggedly as he slowly raised his head, and he nearly sobbed in relief when he saw he was still on course for Rivlax. It was close enough now that he could see the dark brown hue of its surface, the gray clouds swirling in its atmosphere.

Another, even more violent hit slammed into the back of the ship, sending Akira reeling backwards, the back of his helmet slamming against the seat.

Groaning, he blinked at the hovering diagnostics in front of him. From what he managed to comprehend, his ship was as good as dead. Another hit and he was done for.

His eyes flitted to the map again, where he could see that the three fighter jets were still ganging up on him. At this point, he realized, he had no choice but to fight them off.

"Fine," he growled under his breath. "I guess this is how we're doing this."

Bracing himself, Akira wheeled the ship around. The damaged metal screeched in protest, but Akira didn't have time to worry about that right now. He just had to pray that the ship's blasters were still intact––if not, he was definitely about to die.

He only had a split second to process the horrific sight in front of him: the three fighters racing towards him at the speed of light, cannons already lighting up in preparation to take him down.

With a yell, Akira set the blasters on full power and fired.

The closest jet took a direct hit, immediately bursting into a sphere of flame. One of its pointed wings went spiraling and hit one of the other jets, taking it out in another impressive explosion.

Just one left.

The remaining jet was still speeding towards Akira's ship head-on, cannons burning so brightly that Akira had to squint against the glare. He managed to steer himself out of the way just in time as a violet beam of light cut through the darkness right underneath him.

He knew he only had an opening of a few seconds and he quickly positioned the ship again, pointing it right at the oncoming fighter. His thumbs pressed over the blaster controls and––

His ship jerked backwards with the force of the beams shooting out of it. At the same time, the ensuing explosion was so close that it rattled violently through the cockpit. Akira squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding blaze of light, and then slowly blinked them open again.

As the afterimage cleared from his vision, he could see the clearing smoke and bits of debris hovering against the backdrop of stars.

Akira breathed out heavily, slumping back against his seat. Dark spots bloomed in front of his eyes and he just lay there for a minute, fighting to stay awake. Red warning flashes and blaring alarms still rose all around him in the cockpit, but at this point it all sounded like it was coming from underwater.

His sense of awareness was edging away bit by bit, but Akira managed to think clearly enough to realize he had to get out of here. Had to get to the surface of Rivlax. Maybe, by some miracle, he would find some people there ... someone who could help him with the damaged ship and his worsening wound.

He kept an arm clamped around his stomach, nearly blacking out at the twisting pain that ensued as he sat up. With his free arm, he reached for the controls with a trembling hand and steered the ship towards Rivlax.

As he began the rapid descent through the planet's atmosphere, he managed to weakly lift up a hand to his helmet and activate the comms.

"Shiro?" he rasped out. "Shiro, do you read me?"

He waited, his pulse thrumming in his ears, but there was no response––only the faint crackling of static.

Akira let out a shaking sigh. "Okay. I don't have a lot of time, but I hope you're alright and that you get this message. I ... I've managed to get away. For now, at least. I'm headed down to some planet called Rivlax in Sector 4188. Sending you my coordinates now."

He punched a few buttons on the control panel and prayed that his location had been sent successfully.

"I'm hoping there's someone on this planet who can help me. My ship is damaged pretty bad and I ... well, I got shot when I was escaping and it's ... not good." He winced as he spoke, peeling his arm away from his abdomen to get a better look at the wound, and his head reeled at what he saw. He quickly wrapped his arm around his middle again. "I––shit, I'm bleeding a lot. So, uh. Hopefully I can get help somewhere, or you can find me before ..."

Before it's too late. He couldn't even bring himself to say it. Wouldn’t even allow himself to think it.

Now he was headed through the thick layer of clouds above Rivlax, the beige fog obscuring his view of the planet’s surface.

Akira was starting to feel strange––cold and distant––as his vision started to go black at the edges. That was probably a bad sign.

"Shiro ..." he managed to say again, although now his voice was so weak he wondered if it was even audible. Even though he could feel himself slipping away and his words slurred together, he still struggled to relay the rest of his message.

"I think ... think I'm gonna pass out pretty soon but uh ... I just. I really hope you're still alive. I––I probably don't say this enough, but I've always thought of you as my brother. I hope you know that. And I can't––" His eyes stung, and his breath shuddered out of him. "Can't lose you, too. Not after everything. So, please ... please, be okay. We're both gonna make it out of this. I don't know how, but we have to. I ... I'll see you soon. Promise."

He signed off, just as his ship broke through the clouds.

And that's when he saw the planet below him, and his stomach dropped with dread.

From what he could see, Rivlax was nothing but a wasteland. Nothing for miles except for heaps of garbage, ruins of old ships, billowing dust clouds. No sign of civilization anywhere.

And no sign of anyone who could help him.

"Shit," he muttered.

And that was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

--

[KAANJOR, Zyntica Outpost, Galaxy ZL-735, Sector 4184]

It was late in the afternoon, and the heat was starting to get to Lance's head. The tarp propped up over their booth provided some shade, but Lance was still sweating through his clothes.

He rolled up his jacket sleeves for about the one hundredth time and glared enviously at Hunk, who had been smart enough to wear a sleeveless shirt today. He was busy talking to a customer––some green-skinned, scaly creature with more arms than Lance could count. Lance couldn't really hear what he was saying over the clamor of the busy marketplace, but he could hear the cheerful, upbeat note in his friend's voice and he couldn't help but smile a little at that.

But then he went right back to pouting, impatiently crossing his arms as he surveyed the array of items on the table in front of him. Lance was always meticulous in his setup of their wares, arranging the collection in neat rows. A few curious passersby had picked up some of the objects and observed them, but most of the time they had ended up putting them back out of their original places. Sighing, Lance started to arrange everything again and hoped it would be the last time he had to do this for the day.

For a few minutes, he contented himself with nudging everything back into place, but his concentration was broken by someone loudly clearing their throat.

"Ah-hem!"

Lance looked up, startled, but he didn't see anyone standing in front of the table. All he saw was the row of booths across from them and the crowd of aliens of countless species bustling down the dusty street.

He thought maybe he had imagined the noise, when the top of a small creature's head appeared over the edge of the table––a pair of large, curling horns, followed by a frog-like face with bulging eyes, slitted nostrils, and a wide mouth. The alien––an Arusian, Lance was fairly certain––grunted with effort as he hefted himself onto one of the stools Lance and Hunk had set in place for their smaller customers.

"Hey," Lance said, forcing a friendly smile. "How are you doing today? Anything I can help you with?"

The Arusian made a noncommittal noise and started putting his tiny hands on every nearby object he could reach––a small ceramic vase, a few metal gears, a knife with green jewels in its handle. His elbows knocked a few things out of place, and Lance struggled not to seethe in frustration.

"Just looking, thank you," the Arusian said, picking up some kind of woven basket and inspecting it with one eye closed.

"Seems to be what everyone is doing today," Lance grumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said, if you need any help just let me know."

The Arusian seemed to pay him no attention as he continued sorting through the pile of wares. Every once in awhile, he inquired about the price of one thing or another, but at Lance's responses he always harrumphed and put the object back. If it had been earlier in the day, Lance might have bargained more with him, but at this point in the afternoon, he just didn't care anymore.

He snuck a glance over at Hunk, who was still haggling with the many-armed green creature, who didn't seem pleased.

"45 gac?" he heard the creature blubbering. "That's ridiculous!"

Hunk laughed nervously and gave some response Lance couldn't quite hear except it included phrases like "non-negotiable" and "extremely rare." But whatever he'd said didn't seem to sway the alien, who abruptly turned and marched away from the booth. Hunk's shoulders sagged in disappointment as he scratched the back of his head.

Lance was just about to offer him some words of comfort when he heard a loud clattering noise in front of him, and he sharply turned his head. He half-expected to discover that the Arusian was trying to steal something, but instead he was met with an even more unexpected sight: the small alien was literally trying to crawl onto the table.

"Whoa, what the heck are you doing?" Lance exclaimed as the Arusian scrambled up, scattering objects left and right.

He received no answer. The Arusian suddenly seemed fixated on something, his large eyes focused on a spot right next to Lance's head. Confused, Lance turned around to see what was behind him––but there was nothing but a battered brick wall. That's when Lance realized the Arusian was looking at him.

Before he could protest, the Arusian hopped forward and grasped at the glimmer of a thin gold chain peeking out from underneath Lance's collar. All of a sudden, Lance understood what he was after.

"Hey, don't touch that!" he protested, grabbing the alien's wrist, but it was too late. The Arusian had already tugged out the talisman Lance kept tucked under his shirt.

The creature was surprisingly strong for his size, yanking the medallion forward with such force that Lance's forehead nearly knocked against the Arusian's large horns.

"Where did you acquire this?" the Arusian asked, eyes widening with astonishment.

"Family heirloom." It wasn't exactly a lie.

Lance pulled the talisman from the alien's hands and rubbed a thumb over it––a smooth, dark blue gem surrounded by golden rays. At its center was a symbol: a series of intersecting lines that looked almost like the piece of a map with a small heart at its center.

"How much for it?" the Arusian asked eagerly, eyes still fixed on the talisman.

Lance closed his fist around it, angling his body away like that would make the Arusian forget it was there. "What? No, no, no. You don’t understand. It's not for sale."

"I'll pay 200 gac for it."

"200 ..." Lance started to repeat and then shook his head. "What part of 'not for sale' do you not understand? There's like a hundred other things to buy on this table."

The Arusian bristled, large mouth turning downwards in a stubborn frown. "I don't want anything else on the table. The rest of these objects are garbage!"

"Garbage?" Lance sputtered, offended. "You––"

"Hey, hey, hey." Hunk finally stepped in then. He gave Lance a quizzical look and then turned his attention to the Arusian. "What seems to be the problem here?"

"I wish to purchase that talisman," the small alien said, pointing a stubby finger. "But your friend here will not allow it!"

Lance stepped behind Hunk on instinct, hastily tucking the necklace back under his shirt collar.

Hunk crossed his arms. "Well, I assume Lance already told you he's not selling it."

"But I want to purchase it! I offered 200 gac."

Hunk raised an eyebrow but didn't budge. "Listen, man. I'm sorry. You can buy anything else we have laid out here, but you're not buying that."

"Well, then!" the Arusian huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "I'm not buying anything at all!"

"Fine, so get lost," Lance snapped.

"Lance," Hunk said warningly before addressing the Arusian again. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get off our table, sir."

"It would be my pleasure."

The small alien shot one more sneering look at Lance before he hopped off the table and scuttled off into the crowd.

Hunk released a heavy sigh. "Lance, you've gotta stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Being rude to our customers."

"I wasn't being rude! He was the one being rude."

"I know, I know. You get weird about people asking about your talisman, but––"

"Ugh, save it. I'm so tired." Lance rested his forehead against Hunk's shoulder. "Can we just leave, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hunk sighed and wiped a hand on his arm when Lance stood up straight again. "Eew, you're super sweaty, Lance."

"Well, if you hadn't noticed, it's super hot out."

"... Just like I warned you it would be, and yet you wore long sleeves anyway. You could take the jacket off, at least."

Lance scowled, adjusting the collar of his olive-green jacket. “Uh, I don’t think so. I have to look cool.”

“And you could look just as cool without a jacket on.”

“But––”

Their argument was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Lance whirled around at the noise. “Didn’t I tell you to––”

But it wasn’t the Arusian again. This time, it was a teenage girl––at least, Lance was pretty sure she was a teenager, but she was so short and looked so young it was kind of hard to tell. Her pale, freckled face was smudged with dirt, and her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. A large pair of goggles sat on top of her head. Next to her shoulder, a triangular drone hovered in the air, the green light at its center blinking.

The girl looked oddly nervous as her brown eyes shifted between Lance and Hunk, her shoulders hunching slightly. “Uh … hi.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Hey. We were just packing up shop, so––”

“I’m not looking to buy,” the girl said quickly.

“Okay. Well, we don’t want whatever you’re selling, either.”

The girl frowned. “I’m not selling anything.” She had a small, battered rucksack slung over one shoulder, which she hefted higher onto her back. “Do you guys have a ship?”

Lance and Hunk exchanged a questioning glance. Hunk shrugged in bewilderment.

“Uh, yeah. We’ve got a ship,” Lance said slowly, looking at the girl sideways. “Why?”

She took a deep breath, as if she were bracing herself for something. "'Cause I'm looking to catch a ride."

The sudden request caught Lance off-guard, and it took a few seconds for him to process the words. "You ... what?" He rubbed his temples. "No, no. Sorry, kid. We don't transport hitchhikers."

"I'm not hitchhiking," the girl argued, stiffening at the word "kid" like it was the worst insult she'd ever heard. "I'm ... I need to get somewhere."

"And where's that?"

She fell strangely quiet at the question before she gave a rushed answer. "I just need to get as far as the Galjor cluster. That's all."

"Huh. Well, we are kinda headed in that direction," Hunk mused, and Lance glared at him. "What? We are! We have to go pick up some stuff from Xannova, anyway. We could just drop her off on the way there."

"That's gonna take a couple days. You know that, right? We don't need a detour, and we definitely don't need to be babysitting some kid."

"I can hear you, you know," the girl said. "And I'm seventeen, by the way. Not much younger than you, I'm guessing. You're both like, what, twenty?"

Lance didn't say anything because the truth was he was only nineteen, actually. But she didn't need to know that.

"Whoa, yeah," Hunk said brightly. "Guessed right on the first try! About me, anyway. Lance is––"

"Anyway," Lance cut him off. "It doesn't matter. You're not coming with us."

He took out a large wooden crate from underneath the table and started piling their wares into it. It took a few seconds for him to realize that neither Hunk nor the girl had moved, and they were both staring at him.

"What? What is it?" Lance turned towards Hunk. "Wait ... you're not actually considering it, are you?"

"Well ..." Hunk said slowly. He hunched his shoulders, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, Lance. I know you’re tired and want to leave. But we could at least hear her out.”

Lance looked back at the girl, who had lowered her head and was looking back up at him with a cautious expression. She looked so small and vulnerable that he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy. It didn’t help that even her little drone seemed sad, drooping in the air and letting out a series of beeps that somehow managed to sound forlorn.

Lance let out a defeated sigh, plopping his hands down on either side of the crate.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. Let’s start over. What’s your name?”

At the question, the girl stood up straighter and squared her shoulders as if she'd rehearsed an answer. "Right, guess I forgot to introduce myself." She stuck out a hand, on which she was wearing a tattered leather glove that looked several sizes too big for her. "I'm Pidge. Pidge Gunderson."

Warily, Lance reached across the table to grasp her hand. "I'm Lance.”

He had a disorienting feeling all of a sudden like he had met her somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. He and Hunk frequented a lot of trading outposts in this galaxy, though, so it didn’t seem out of the question.

Before Lance could say anything about it, Pidge had turned to Hunk to shake his hand as well.

"So, what business do you have out in the Galjor cluster?" Lance asked when their introductions were done, trying to sound casual rather than suspicious. He continued collecting the objects from the table and arranging them in the crate.

"I'm ... on my way to meet my brother," Pidge answered haltingly.

"Oh, cool," said Hunk. "Where in the cluster is he? 'Cause, you know, that's kind of a big area ... lots of different planets."

Pidge shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I'm not meeting him in Galjor. I just need to get to some kind of transport hub. I don't have enough money to buy my own ship yet."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to get transport out of Galjor? It's kinda ... seedy."

Pidge crossed her arms, jutting out her chin. "I think I can fend for myself."

"Okay, your funeral," Lance muttered, and Hunk shot him a warning look.

"Anyway," Hunk said. "So, if your brother's not in Galjor, then where is he?"

"Oh, he's uh ..." Pidge scratched the back of her head. "On Zuleraan. Doing scientific research."

"Wow, awesome!"

Hunk sidled around the table, pulling out another crate to pack stuff into. Lance had almost finished filling the first one.

"Well," Hunk said slowly, "I don't mind taking Pidge here along with us. What do you think, Lance?"

“What?” Lance exclaimed, almost dropping the ceramic vase he was holding.

"It'd just be for a couple days, Lance. And we'd really be helping her out."

"Okay, but how do we know she's not like ... I don't know, some criminal on the run or something? I mean, she's heading to Galjor. Don't you think that's kinda suspicious?"

"Once again, I can hear you," Pidge said.

Lance sighed in frustration. At this point, he was so tired and sweaty he was about ready to cave in. But he didn't want to let it go just yet.

"If you come with us––and that's a big if––what's in it for us?"

Pidge hesitated and reached into the side pocket of her brown overalls. "Uh ... I mean, I've got maybe like 50 gac. But I was hoping to use that to get to Zuleraan. So, I don't know. I could help out around your ship ... ?"

"Help out on the ship?" Lance huffed. "Doing what, exactly?" He eyed her outfit––the overalls, the goggles, the belt of tools. "What are you, anyway? A mechanic? 'Cause we don't need another mechanic. Hunk's already got that covered."

Hunk shrugged. "I don't know, I could use an extra pair of hands. Might help speed up some of the repairs. Just to warn you, our ship is ... not in the greatest shape."

Lance gasped as if he’d been stabbed. “Hey, don’t insult my girl like that!”

“I’m sorry, but you know Blue is kinda ... old.”

“Excuse me! She has character.”

“It’s okay,” Pidge cut in. “I don’t mind what condition your ship is in. And yeah, to answer your question, I’m a pretty good mechanic. But actually, technology and robotics are more of my area of expertise." She adjusted the goggles on top of her head.

"Yeah, I've been admiring your little droid there," Hunk said. He stepped up closer to the floating robot in question. It made a startled whirring noise at Hunk's approach and dove behind Pidge.

"It's okay, buddy. Don't be shy," Pidge said, lifting a gloved hand to gently pat the droid. It snuck out from behind her but remained close to her shoulder. "This is Rover."

"Hey, Rover," Hunk greeted the droid. "I'm Hunk!"

Rover drifted a little closer to him and made a bright chirruping noise as if to return the greeting.

"Aw, he's so cute!" Hunk clapped a hand to his chest as he paced around the droid, crouching down slightly to see it from a better angle. "Don't tell me you made him yourself."

"Not exactly," Pidge admitted. "He's actually a modified medical droid. He used to be my mom's. She was an army doctor during the Trona-Julinak War."

"Medical droid, huh?" Hunk frowned and reached out to poke a curious finger at Rover, who skittered away from him with a series of offended noises.

"Sorry, he's kinda shy and doesn't like to be touched," said Pidge, stepping between Hunk and Rover. "Anyway ... he's mostly just a companion droid now, but he still has all the built-in med droid appliances. Like being able to scan for injuries and stuff. He’s taught me a lot, since I’m trying to train to be a medic, too. And I’ve learned a ton from Rover. He's pretty high-tech!"

Rover chirped proudly at the praise.

"I can see that," Hunk said with a laugh. "What a cool little guy. And he's a med droid, too ... That could come in handy. Right, Lance?"

Lance shrugged nonchalantly as he hefted one of the full crates into his arms. "What're the chances that we'll need a med droid in the next two days?"

"You never know ..."

Now Hunk, Pidge, and even Rover turned towards Lance expectantly, waiting for him to make the final call. Lance still wasn't sure whether to trust Pidge––something about her story seemed off––but she was making that innocent face again. And now Hunk was looking at Lance pleadingly, too; Lance could tell his best friend was excited to find someone to nerd out with over technology. Something around Lance's heart softened a little. Maybe he was being unnecessarily suspicious.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, he noticed a slight movement behind Hunk, and his gaze snapped towards the source. There was a short figure standing by a booth across from them––a creature in a dark robe with large bat-like ears, yellow eyes, and one long fang protruding from his mouth. While the afternoon crowd started to dissipate from the marketplace, this one alien stood stock-still in the shadows. His mouth moved a bit, and Lance realized he was talking into some kind of comm device in his clawed hand.

Also, he was looking right at Lance.

Lance quickly looked away from the creature to avoid eye contact. "You know what?" he said, voice a little high-pitched with sudden anxiety. "Fine. She can come with us."

"Really?" Pidge burst. Her whole face practically lit up, and she grinned crookedly in a way that reminded Lance of his little niece back home––his chest tightened a bit at the thought. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it," said Lance. As he spoke, he looked at Hunk meaningfully and gestured towards the other crate with his head. "But we're leaving right now, so like ... no time to say goodbye to your parents or anything."

Pidge's smile faltered at that, and she stared at the ground. "Don't worry," she said tightly. "Won't be a problem."

It took a second for Lance to comprehend what she meant, and he felt a wrenching guilt in his stomach. But before he could utter an apology, he saw the bat-eared creature tucking his comm device away and shooting Lance another look.

Lance tensed. "Okay, well then, uh ... yeah, let's get out of here."

Hunk seemed to take the hint, and he grabbed the other crate.

They took off into the crowd––Lance at the lead, Hunk close behind him, and Pidge stumbling after them. Lance barely even thought about losing his companions in the throng; all he could think about was moving forward at a steady pace, trying to get lost in the sea of alien creatures. With every step he took, he was aware of his talisman bumping against his chest beneath his shirt.

He became so caught up in trying to escape the marketplace that he didn't realize just how fast he was walking until a hand clapped down on his shoulder. Lance whirled around, heart pounding wildly.

It was just Hunk, who was staring at him with his brow furrowed in concern. "Lance, hey. Slow down for a sec."

He glanced over his shoulder and Lance followed his gaze to see Pidge squeezing her way between two very tall fuschia-colored aliens with long antennae chatting in the middle of the street.

"'Scuse me, sorry," she said hurriedly and then came to a skidding halt in front of Hunk and Lance. She bent over, grabbing her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Rover came zooming out from behind her a moment later, beeping rapidly. "Jeez, do we have to walk so fast? Are you trying to leave me behind on purpose?"

"No," Lance said defensively. He scanned their surroundings, searching the narrow alley for any sign of the alien who'd been spying on him.

"Lance?" Hunk said, breaking his concentration. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Yes ... yeah," Lance stammered. He lowered his voice a little. "Listen, I'll talk to you when we get back to the ship, okay?"

Hunk's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "Oh. Okay."

Pidge now stood between them, looking back and forth during their exchange with a perplexed frown on her face. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Did I miss something?"

"Nope," said Lance. "Let's go."

They soon reached the landing area, which was located on a wide, flat plateau. With no shade whatsoever, the open space was so blazing hot that heat shimmered in the air. Ships of numerous shapes and sizes were docked in haphazard rows. At this hour, when the market was coming to a close, many of the ships were taking off. The roar of engines filled the air, and ships swarmed across the afternoon sky like locusts.

"There she is," Lance said with a grin when he caught sight of their ship up ahead.

It was sitting in the shade of a much larger vessel––what looked like some kind of hulking cargo ship. But Blue was still a good-sized ship with a pointed front, an extensive body, and long wings. Evidently, the name of the ship came from its blue exterior, although by now the paint was chipped, scarred, and faded.

"That's your ship?" Pidge said, running alongside Hunk and Lance to keep up with them.

"Why, you got a problem with her?" Lance asked, side-eyeing Pidge.

"No, I just ... expected something a lot smaller, actually. Are there other people on the ship besides you two?"

"Not usually," said Lance with a shrug. "But sometimes we're lugging around a lot of cargo, so having the extra space helps."

They stopped right under the ship.

"Hey, Blue! Can you open up for us, please?" Lance called up to it.

Almost instantly, a grumble of metal answered him. A panel on the underside of the ship slid away, and a long gangway snaked out until it touched the ground.

"Thanks, girl."

Lance started up the steps, lugging along his large crate of unsold items. He could hear the creaking footsteps of Hunk and Pidge following after him.

"Whoa, how'd you do that?" Pidge exclaimed.

"Do what?"

At the top of the stairs, Lance turned around to raise an eyebrow at Pidge questioningly. She stared back at him in astonishment.

"You told the ship to open up and it just ... did it? Does your ship respond to verbal commands?"

"Yeah, she's always done that," Lance said with a shrug. "At least for me, anyway. She doesn't listen to Hunk so much. Blue just likes me better. Probably 'cause I don't go around insulting her all the time."

"Yeah, yeah," Hunk muttered, climbing onboard.

As soon as all three of them were inside, the gangway started to retract again. They were now standing at the entrance of the cockpit. Pidge peered inside with widening eyes at the curved dashboard of blinking lights, switches, and levers.

"Whoa."

Lance grinned. "Not bad, huh?" Although he was still wary of letting a newcomer onboard, he was always excited to show off his ship. "We gotta take these crates down to the cargo area and then get out of here. Once I set Blue on auto-pilot, we can show you around."

They turned a nearby corner to an automatic door, which slid to the side with a rusty creak to reveal a dark staircase. The fluorescent lights along its walls flickered on as the trio descended into the space beneath.

The cargo area was spacious, but it was so packed with equipment and wares that it felt cramped. Crates and boxes lined the walls almost to the ceiling.

Pidge lingered on the bottom step as Hunk and Lance found a space to put their crates down. Rover buzzed around the room, turning in a circle as he thoroughly inspected his surroundings.

"Wow, you guys sure are carrying a lot of junk around," Pidge commented, surveying the area.

"It's not junk," said Lance, and then promptly tripped over a box and righted himself again. "It's ... treasure."

"So, you guys are like, what? Pirates?"

Lance shrugged. "In a way."

"Not really," Hunk said at the same time, wiping sweat from his brow and adjusting his headband. "Pirates steal from people. We don't steal, we just scavenge and sell stuff."

"Is that all?" Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Lance said tightly. "Why are you getting so nosy all of a sudden?"

"I'm not being nosy. Just curious."

Lance shouldered past her and started up the stairs again. "Well, anyway ... we'd better get this ship moving."

He sauntered into the cockpit and broke into a smile when Blue's dashboard lit up for him. She always did that, although he wasn't sure how––some kind of motion sensors, he was guessing. But it somehow felt more friendly than that, like the ship was happy to see him.

"Hi, Blue! Missed you too, girl."

He lowered himself into the pilot's chair and patted the dashboard affectionately.

"Does he always do this?" he heard Pidge whisper from somewhere behind him.

"What, talk to the ship all the time?" said Hunk. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Lance scowled as he started pressing buttons and flicking switches. "Don't listen to them, Blue. They're just jealous that you and I have such a strong connection. Now, here we go ..."

A strong vibration shuddered through the cockpit as Blue's engine rumbled to life. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw Pidge stumble a little and grab onto the back of the co-pilot chair, where Hunk had started to sit down.

"Ready for take-off?" Lance asked his companions, raising his voice over the noise.

Hunk gave him a salute. "Aye-aye, captain!"

Pidge looked a little pale, but she nodded.

"Okay, you probably want to hang onto something," Lance warned her. Pidge held tighter to the back of Hunk's chair in response, and Rover hovered closer to her.

With a wicked smile, Lance took hold of the main controls and drove them forward.

Despite her age, Blue was always capable of a smooth take-off––and as always, she shot up into the air like a bullet. Lance whooped in exhilaration as they soared upward, leaving the crowded docking area of Zyntica Outpost behind.

Pidge screamed and ducked behind Hunk's chair as Lance wove through the crowded airfield, threading between the other ships with practiced precision. It wasn't long before Blue broke into the planet's atmosphere, and Lance grinned again as he put the ship into hyperdrive.

He never grew tired of this feeling––the thrilling drop in his stomach every time they left the ground, as they soared through the air, as they raced into the stars. And it was something particularly special with Blue. He'd flown other ships before, but he felt such an unbreakable connection with Blue––like the two of them were one and the same, like the ship had a life of its own.

There was a brief, disorienting feeling as they leapt out of the atmosphere and into space. The sensation had always reminded Lance of diving into deep water. First there was a moment of shock, followed by a quiet sense of peace. One moment they were moving at the speed of light, and the next they were drifting through the darkness. Suddenly, the burning afternoon light on Kaanjor felt like it had been lifetimes ago, and now all that surrounded them was the calming glow of the stars.

Lance leaned back in the piloting chair, crossing his arms behind his head and propping his feet up on the dashboard. "Nice job, girl," he said up to the ceiling. "You've still got it."

Meanwhile, Pidge was wheezing as she got to her feet again. Rover circled her with alarmed little noises.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay, buddy," she told her concerned droid. Then she shot a glare at Lance. "God ... do you always fly like that?"

He scowled back at her. "Like what?"

"I don't know, like you're trying to get us killed?"

"Yeah, he's been that way since we were in flight school," Hunk chimed in. "Once again, you'll get used to it."

"Excuse me, but I happen to be a very good pilot, so I don't know what you guys are talking about. Also, I trust Blue. She's not gonna let anything happen to us."

Pidge looked around the cockpit like she expected to find some visible evidence of Lance's claims. "But ... it's a ship."

"So?"

"It's not sentient."

Lance gasped and leaned forward to put a hand on Blue's dashboard again. "You didn't hear that, girl."

"Trust me, I've had this conversation with him about a hundred times," Hunk told Pidge. "It's a lost cause."

"Anyway," Lance said pointedly, "now that Blue's on auto-pilot, we can give Pidge that tour I mentioned. You wanna see around the ship?"

Pidge still looked a little dazed from their take-off, but she managed a nod and a smile. "Yeah! That'd be great." Rover chirped in agreement.

They all moved out of the cockpit and into the corridor beyond. Lance led the way, walking backwards at a casual pace with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. Pidge stumbled and put a hand against the wall, and Lance chuckled.

"Getting your space legs, huh? Have you ever even been on a ship before?"

"Of course I've been on a ship before," she said, straightening again with a frown. "It's just been a while, okay?"

"Okay, okay." Lance decided not to pry any further. For now. He gestured to the door on their left. "You've already seen the storage area. Not that interesting. To your right is the kitchen."

"That's where all the magic happens," Hunk said with a wink.

"Yeah, as well as being a genius engineer, Hunk is the best chef in the universe," Lance said, smiling. "I'm telling you, no matter what planet we go to, he can make an incredible meal out of whatever he can find there."

"Aw, Lance."

"Just telling it like it is, buddy."

They walked past another doorway, which slid open when Lance pressed a hand against the panel on its right. “This is the armory––which will only open for me and Hunk’s handprints, so don’t try anything.”

Pidge crossed her arms. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Lance gestured inside so she could see that the walls of the small room were adorned with weapons––mostly small blasters, a lot of long-range rifles, a few knives and even a couple of swords.

“Jeez,” Pidge breathed. “Where’d you get all these?”

“Oh, you know,” Lance said casually, waving the door closed again. “Bought some of them, but a lot of them were scavenged. We actually don’t use them all that often, but it’s a nice collection, huh? And, who knows, they all might come in handy someday.”

Next, they walked past the closet-sized bathroom, which consisted of not much other than a toilet, a single rusty shower head surrounded by a plastic curtain, a sink surrounded by a mess of shaving supplies as well as hair products and face creams (“I take my daily beauty routine very seriously,” Lance explained), and an accompanying mirror which was foggy with age.

The bedrooms were across the hallway: Lance’s and then Hunk’s, and then a small spare room where Pidge tossed her rucksack onto the cot in the corner.

“And lastly,” Lance said, “we have the med bay over here. Luckily, we don’t use it much, but I figured you wanted to see it since you said you’re interested in medical stuff.”

Pidge shouldered past him, eyes shifting around the room in curiosity. It was a pretty standard medical bay––white walls and a tiled floor, a cot in one corner that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. A counter ran along one wall, with a sink at one end and cabinets above it. Pidge stood on her toes to open one of the cabinets, reaching a hand inside to inspect the various supplies.

“You sure understand privacy, don’t you,” Lance deadpanned as he strolled into the room. Hunk hovered near the doorway.

Rover zipped around in the air above Pidge’s head, lighting up the crowded cabinet with his built-in flashlight.

“Man, most of this stuff expired deca-phoebs ago,” Pidge said, wrinkling her nose at a sealed bottle of orange liquid. “I wouldn’t ingest any of this if I were you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, unless we run out of nunvil,” Lance said with a smirk. He leaned back against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” She took down yet another bottle and glanced at the label––but this time, instead of a look of disgust, her eyes widened in shock. “No way. Balmeran healing serum?”

“Bal—What now?” Lance said. He shot Hunk a questioning look, but his friend only shrugged in response.

“It’s a serum derived from the crystals of a Balmera,” Pidge explained. The two boys continued to stare at her blankly. “Balmeras are living planets. They generate massive amounts of quintessence. Unfortunately, most of them have been mined to their deaths.”

Her shoulders sagged as she continued to cradle the small bottle between her gloved hands, like it was the most precious treasure in the world.

“I don’t even know if there’s any living Balmeras left. But yeah, this serum is extremely rare––super powerful, too. It can literally bring someone back from the brink of death, although it has to be used carefully, ‘cause too much can kill you.”

She held the bottle up to the light, squinting at the tiny amount of golden liquid at the bottom. “There’s probably only enough in here to save one person, anyway. And I don’t know if it expires. But seriously, where did you get this?”

Lance shrugged. “We got the ship used––bought it off this guy named Blaytz who was some kinda war veteran. He didn’t really clean it out before he gave it to us, so a lot of the old stuff is his.”

“Huh,” Pidge muttered, putting the serum back on the shelf. “I’m just surprised someone would give away something so valuable. Maybe he didn’t know how powerful that stuff is.”

“Maybe not,” said Hunk. “He seemed to also be kind of in a rush to get the ship off his hands. I got the vibe it brought back bad memories for him or something. Plus he just seemed really eager to leave the space-travel life behind and settle down with his husband.”

"Man, I can't imagine that," Lance said with a scoff.

"What? Getting married?"

"Uh, no. You know I'm a hopeless romantic, Hunk. I meant giving up space travel. Like, there's so much to explore, I can't imagine ever getting sick of it. Also, I can't imagine giving up Blue."

He patted the wall as if the ship could hear him.

"Speaking of marriage, maybe you should just marry Blue," said Hunk.

"Hmm. Do you think that's legal on any planets?"

"Oh, my God. Please don't tell me you're serious."

"Well," Pidge said, cutting into their conversation. "As thrilling as this discussion is, I'm really tired and I think I need a minute to just settle in and take a nap or something. So, if you need me, I'll be across the hall."

She walked out of the med bay with Rover in tow, not waiting for a response.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Lance crept back out into the hallway and gave Hunk a meaningful look as he gestured towards the cockpit. "Secret meeting?" he whispered loudly.

Hunk gave a solemn nod.

Once they were back inside the cockpit, the doors slid shut behind them. Lance approached the dashboard, giving the controls and various screens a once-over to check for anything noteworthy before he turned back to Hunk again.

"So, what's up?" Hunk asked, walking over. He sat down in his co-pilot chair, swiveling around to face Lance.

Lance remained standing, hands on his hips. After a moment, he reached up to run a hand through his hair and released a long sigh.

"I think someone was spying on me today."

Hunk sat up straight, gripping the armrests of the chair. "What? Again? Is that why you were acting so weird?"

Normally, Lance would have been offended by that statement. But right now, he was too nervous to care.

"Yeah. It was right after that argument I had with the Arusian. There was this guy ... some little dude, huge ears, wearing a dark cloak thing. He was looking at me and talking into a comm."

"Oh, no." Hunk leaned back, running a hand over his face. "Do you think he recognized you?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

Lance paced around the small space, too antsy to sit down.

"Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea. We should never have smuggled that scaultrite. I'm sorry, Hunk. I feel like this is my fault."

He finally collapsed in the pilot chair, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Hey, don't say that," Hunk reassured him, reaching out to pat his knee. "It was just as much my fault as yours. But those days are behind us, right? No more smuggling. Just scavenging."

"Just scavenging," Lance agreed. He huffed, crossing his arms. “Still can’t believe Rolo ratted us out.”

“I told you he was super shady, I’m just saying.”

“Right, like you’ve said a million times before. I get it.”

Lance tilted his head back, staring up through the domed glass above them and watching the stars drift past in a slow crawl. Absently, he touched the fine gold chain at his throat and pulled the talisman out. It felt oddly warm between his fingers.

“Anyway, we should probably figure out what our next course is.”

“Right, that,” Hunk sighed. He touched a few buttons, bringing up several holographic maps and scanning them. “Hmm, well … we’ve gotta get to Xannova eventually to pick up that shipment. We should probably sell some stuff while we’re there.”

“You’re right.” Lance dropped the talisman against his chest again and rubbed at his temples. “We probably need a new haul, ‘cause our current wares don’t seem to be selling. How much did you make today?”

Hunk shrugged, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out a handful of crumpled bills and coins. “I don’t know, like 50 gac?”

“Better than me, I think I only got like 30. At least that’s enough to get us through the next couple weeks.”

“Hmm,” Hunk muttered as he shoved the money back into his pocket. But then suddenly, his face brightened. “Wait. Isn’t Rivlax pretty close to here?”

Lance slowly began to sit up in his seat. “Yeah, I think it’s only a couple sectors away. Why?”

“Well … I know you said you didn’t want to detour too much, but it might be a good idea to stop there and see if there’s anything good. We haven’t checked it out in a while, and it’s only about one varga off-course.”

As he spoke, Hunk rapidly tapped at the dashboard, zooming in on various places on the map in front of him.

“Good thinking, Hunk,” Lance said, snapping his fingers. “I think it could be worth the detour. We don’t want to show up at Xannova empty-handed.”

“Exactly. So ... should we do it, then?”

Lance gave a single nod, already leaning forward to put his hands on the controls.

“Set a course for Rivlax.”

--

[RIVLAX - Galaxy ZL-735, Sector 4188]

Blue dove through the atmosphere of Rivlax at top speed as wispy clouds whooshed across the windshield.

“Shouldn’t we have warned Pidge that we’re about to make a landing?” Hunk yelled over the noise.

Lance had been preoccupied with piloting the ship, but he looked up at Hunk’s reminder. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He pressed a button on the dashboard, activating the ship’s loudspeaker system. “Hey, Pidge! We’re about to make a quick pit stop, so prepare for landing. It might be a little rough, so uh … you might want to hold onto something.”

He shut the loudspeaker off. “Hopefully she heard that.”

As they raced towards the surface of the planet, Lance slowed Blue down a little. The clouds in front of them cleared to reveal the wasteland below. In a way, it was actually kind of breath-taking. The mountains of garbage formed almost organic shapes across the landscape, bits of metal and glass glinting in the setting sun. It was nearing twilight on Rivlax, and the sky was blood-red as the last light was starting to fade.

Their landing was surprisingly smooth, despite the planet’s uneven exterior. Luckily, Lance had managed to find a patch of somewhat flat ground and lowered Blue to a stop.

“Nice landing, Blue,” he complimented the ship with a smile.

Right then, the door to the cockpit slid open and Pidge stood in the doorway, rubbing at one of her eyes. Her hair was a mess, and one of the straps of her overalls was slightly askew. Rover hovered behind her.

“Maybe give me more of a warning next time you decide to land,” Pidge grumbled. “I was napping and practically fell out of bed.”

She looked like she was about to complain some more, when she suddenly caught sight of the view outside and stopped short. “Whoa. Where are we?”

“Rivlax,” Lance answered, rising to his feet and stretching his arms above his head. “A waste planet. Used to be inhabited, but it hasn’t been for deca-phoebs. Now it’s just where travelers ditch their trash.”

“So … we’re on a trash planet?” Pidge said slowly, like she wasn’t sure she fully understood. “Uh, why are we here again?”

Lance elbowed his way past her into the corridor. “Gotta scavenge some more stuff to sell. Don’t worry, it should only take a couple vargas at most.”

“A couple vargas?”

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted so much on coming along with us.” Lance pressed a hand against a panel on the wall. “By the way, you might want to hold your breath. It doesn’t smell great.”

As he spoke, the sound of grinding metal pierced the air, and a panel in the floor slid open as the gangway started to lower towards the ground.

Lance led the way down with Pidge close behind and Hunk following after her. They walked out from underneath Blue and stopped next to the ship. Lance surveyed the dismal scenery with an oddly eager smile, looking up at the enormous heaps of garbage on either side of them.

“Oh, jeez.” Pidge covered her mouth and nose with both hands. “You were right, it smells awful,” she complained, voice muffled behind her gloves.

“I mean, you can always wait back on the ship if you want,” Lance said with the shrug of one shoulder. “You don’t have to come with us.”

“No way.” Pidge shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps. Feels like some kinda huge graveyard. I’m sticking with you guys.”

The trio started to wind their way between the walls of discarded trash. Rover zipped on ahead of them, scanning various parts of the waste with his flashlight. Lance rolled his sleeves up and waded into the nearest pile up to his knees, nose wrinkling slightly at the stench––but at this point, he’d grown used to walking through garbage.

He caught a glimmer of metal through the rubble and pulled it out. It looked like some recycled scrap from a rusty old ship, a faded symbol printed on the side. From what he could determine, it was a cheap material that wouldn’t do them much good. With a sigh, he tossed it aside and kept searching.

Nothing good was turning up. As Lance continued sorting through the selection of garbage, all he found that was somewhat interesting was what looked like the arm of some old-fashioned droid and a small hand-mirror with a crack across its surface.

Nearby, Pidge picked up a small wooden box and opened it––only to scream and throw it away when a bunch of slug-like creatures crawled out of it.

Lance cackled. “Probably should’ve warned you about the grubs.”

Pidge shot him a death-glare as she shook a remaining slimy bug off her glove.

“Any luck over there, Hunk?” Lance called over his shoulder.

“Nothing yet,” Hunk shouted from the neighboring junk pile. He pulled out some kind of bent metal pole and frowned at it before dropping it. He was just about to lean over again when suddenly his gaze flitted upward, and he froze. “Whoa … do you guys see that?”

Lance straightened, turning in the direction Hunk had pointed. Almost right away, he saw it: a dark streak against the red sky, leading down from the clouds and extending towards the ground where it disappeared behind a mountain of trash.

“What is that?” Lance murmured, squinting and shielding his eyes with one hand.

“Looks like smoke,” Pidge said.

“Yeah, like some big burning thing came falling down from the sky,” said Hunk, taking a few steps forward to get a better look.

"Big burning thing?" Lance frowned. "Like what? A meteor?"

"Maybe. Or ... a ship crashed over there."

Lance's eyes widened as the realization hit him, and then he stumbled down from the garbage pile, sending items scattering in all directions.

"Lance, wait! Where are you going?"

Hunk caught his wrist as he reached the ground, but Lance tugged his arm free.

"What do you mean, where am I going? I'm gonna go check it out."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Are you kidding me? We've gotta get over there. If it is a crashed ship, then that means one of two things. One, it's an unmanned cargo ship full of goods, which means we've hit the jackpot. Or, two, there are people on that ship––and if that's the case, we need to help them."

"Lance––" Hunk started to say, but Lance had already turned and started running.

He didn't take his eyes off the sky as he ran, fixated on that dark line scarring the horizon. The closer he got to it, the clearer he could see that it was, in fact, smoke. It looked like it hadn't been there for long, judging by how dark it still was, but it was rapidly dissipating. Lance pushed himself further, afraid that it would evaporate completely before he found its source.

It wasn't an easy trek, thanks to the debris scattered everywhere. Lance scrambled over one mound of trash after another, and he could hear Hunk and Pidge crashing through the garbage after him.

But at last, Lance came to a skidding stop, eyes following the smoke to where it stopped. His breath caught in his throat.

A dark red ship––a fighter jet, judging by its sleek shape and small size––was buried halfway in a pile of waste. One of its wings was bent at a strange angle and burned black, and a smoking hole had been blown into its side.

Pidge stopped with a gasp next to Lance, and Hunk faintly murmured, "Oh, no."

Lance barely heard them. He felt strange and dizzy, like there was no ground underneath his feet. When he spoke, it felt like someone else was speaking through him.

"Come on, let's go."

He didn't even wait for a response before he started forward, only to be stopped again as Hunk grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Lance, hold on a second."

As much as Lance wanted to dash straight for the ship, he turned to face his friend, and the worried expression on Hunk's face made his stomach sink.

"I don't know if we should go in there. That doesn't look like a cargo ship, and if there is anyone in it ..." He paused and took a deep breath. "It––It might be too late."

Lance only hesitated for a second before he pulled himself out of Hunk's grip.

"Or it might not be."

"Hunk is right," Pidge cut in, her brow furrowing as she stared at the wreckage. "It really doesn't look good. Not to mention, it might not be safe to go in there with all the smoke. Plus it's possible the ship is about to burst into flames or something."

"All the better reason to get in there," Lance said, already turning to climb the slope towards the ship. "I'm not leaving someone in there if they're in danger."

At this point, his companions seemed to understand there was no stopping him. Lance clambered up the sliding pile of garbage––scraps of metal and glass that cut into his palms and crunched underneath his boots.

A strange, inescapable feeling pulsed in his chest. Maybe he was imagining it, but he could have sworn his talisman was burning hot against his skin beneath his shirt, tugging him forward with a magnetic force.

When he reached the top, he was breathing hard. Wiping a hand across his brow, he stumbled the last few steps up to the exposed side of the ship. The smoke stung his eyes and burned in his throat, but he pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth and scrambled upwards, one foot finding purchase on the edge of the jagged hole.

It was too dark to see inside in the fading light. All Lance could make out was a smoky, charred-out interior. If he squinted, he could make out some kind of dark, open doorway that probably led into the cockpit, which was buried under debris.

Lance looked over his shoulder to call down to Hunk and Pidge, who were both cautiously picking their way up the slope.

"I'm going in!"

Hunk tripped, skidding on some loose rubble before he righted himself again. "I don't know, Lance. It looks really dangerous––"

"Pidge, is it okay if Rover goes with me?" Lance asked, ignoring Hunk's warning. “I need him to light the way. It’s super dark in there.”

Pidge stopped a few feet away, looking up at the droid floating by her shoulder. Rover made a series of beeping noises, like he was conveying something to her.

“Okay,” Pidge said hesitantly. "He says he'll do it. Just ... make sure he doesn't get damaged, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be careful. I promise," Lance said sincerely.

He gestured for Rover to take the lead, and the little droid drifted over to him and dove down into the hull of the ship.

Lance leapt inside after Rover, stumbling a little when the ship rocked to the side with the sudden movement. One of his arms flailed out, but something solid nudged up against his side, keeping him upright. Lance realized it was Rover who had caught him and found that the droid was surprisingly sturdy.

“Wow, thanks little guy.”

Rover beeped cheerfully in reply. Then he moved ahead of Lance again, turning on his flashlight. A bluish glow filled the cabin, illuminating the blackened walls and the fog of smoke.

Lance coughed into his elbow and kept his arm over his face as he peered through the opening ahead of him. Rover moved towards it, and as he hovered close to the doorway, the ring of light fell across the back of a pilot’s chair and a glimpse of the dashboard in front of it. Shattered glass glinted on the floor.

Without daring to breathe, Lance moved forward through the open doorway and stumbled. His foot slid in something and he cursed as he grabbed the back of the pilot’s chair for support …

And that’s when he saw the figure slumped in the seat.

The sight was too horrific for him to comprehend at first––it felt nightmarish and distant, like it couldn’t be real. And yet there it was: a person wearing some kind of black flightsuit, their reflective helmet obscuring their face, a limp arm draped across their stomach where the cloth of their suit was torn, revealing the shocking crimson of blood underneath. Red stained the controls on the dashboard and pooled on the floor.

Lance’s head reeled, his whole body going stiff with shock before the panic started to set in. The breath left his lungs sharply like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Shit,” he gasped. “Oh … Jesus.”

He didn’t know what he was doing, but somehow he found himself falling to his knees next to the motionless figure in the chair. His mind raced to find scattered bits of knowledge, everything he’d been taught in flight school about dealing with emergencies like this, but it all seemed useless at the moment.

“Hey,” he managed to say. His mouth felt dry, his throat burning from inhaling smoke and the metallic scent of blood. Somehow he was reaching out and putting a hand on the pilot’s shoulder, his fingers going numb when the person remained unresponsive. “Can you hear me? Hey.”

His instinct was to shake them awake, but he gathered his wits just enough to remember you were not supposed to do that to an injured person because their spine could be broken or they could have internal bleeding or …

He had to do something.

Stop the bleeding.

Do something.

Frantically, Lance started to tear his jacket off, bunching it into a ball. He moved the pilot’s arm aside just enough that he could press the jacket against the wound. Through the haze of panic, he could hear himself murmuring something (it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay) even though he doubted the person could hear him. He realized, distantly, they had already lost so much blood that it might not even make a difference.

… In fact, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even checked if they were still alive.

Lance stuttered out something that might have been a curse or a prayer or some strange combination of both. He squeezed his stinging eyes shut as he leaned forward, still keeping pressure on the wound as he pressed an ear to the pilot’s chest.

At first, he heard nothing. But then, there it was: a heartbeat, faint and sluggish, but still there. A single, rattling breath.

Lance sat up again, a sound escaping him––a shuddering noise that was almost a laugh, almost a cry. He took in the sight of this person lying before him, somehow, impossibly, still clinging to life. And he had a strange and staggering feeling that, no matter the outcome of this situation, everything was about to change.

“Hey guys?” he called out, finally finding his voice. “I’m gonna need a little help down here.”

Chapter Text

"Lance?" Hunk called from outside the crashed ship. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Lance still hadn't looked up from the wounded pilot in front of him, staring at him like somehow he would miraculously wake up.

"Yeah, I'm––" He coughed on smoke and cleared his throat. "I'm okay, but there's someone down here and he's hurt really badly!"

He heard Hunk make a faint, terrified noise and then the sound of metal and glass crunching under someone's feet.

"Hang on, I'm coming in!" Pidge yelled.

The ship shook as she jumped into it. Lance winced at the movement, afraid the whole ship would dislodge itself and go tumbling to the bottom of the hill, but fortunately it steadied again.

A few seconds later, Pidge appeared in the open doorway of the cockpit, a gloved hand covering her mouth to block out the smoke. She let out a muffled gasp when she saw the blood on the floor, and her gaze immediately lifted to where Lance was kneeling.

Rover moved over to let her pass, making a concerned beeping noise as he continued to shed light throughout the small space. Pidge stumbled to the side of the chair and gripped onto the armrest.

"Oh, jeez," she breathed out. Her eyes widened as she looked down to where Lance still had his jacket pressed to the wound. The blood had already soaked through it. "Is he ..."

"He's still alive. We need to get him off the ship."

"Wait. Not until we make sure his spine's not broken. Rover, can you scan him?"

The droid hovered closer with a quiet buzz. A flat beam of green light shot out and quickly scanned over the injured pilot. A small holographic projection appeared, displaying a map of a human body with different parts highlighted, accompanied by columns of scrolling text along the sides.

Pidge's eyes flitted over the information, her mouth set in a grim line. "Okay. Spine's not broken. But he's bleeding internally. It ..." She let out a shaking breath before she composed herself again. "From what I can determine, it's some kind of ... laser wound? I don't think he got it from the crash, though. I think he was shot."

"What?" Lance could barely process half of what she was saying. All he could think about was that they had to get out of here, had to do something before it was too late. He tried to keep a level head, even though he was starting to feel dizzy. "You know what? Never mind. Just ... what are we supposed to do?"

The words had barely left his mouth when he and Pidge looked at each other, and the realization dawned on their faces at the same time.

“The healing serum!” Lance exclaimed. “You said that could save someone from the brink of death.”

"Well, yeah. But it's really old ... I don't even know if it will work," Pidge said, stumbling over her words. "And we have to get it to him somehow––"

"We'll bring him back to Blue," Lance cut her off, already starting to wedge an arm under the pilot's shoulders. "Come on, what are we waiting for?"

"Whoa, hold on." Pidge grabbed his wrist. "I don't know if he should be carried that far. If you jostle him around too much, you’re gonna kill him. And the serum’s not gonna help him if he’s dead.”

Lance made a frustrated noise. “Then what the hell do you suggest we do? We can’t just let him bleed out, and we’ve gotta get him out of this ship––you said so yourself, it could blow at any second.”

“I know, I know. I’m trying to think,” Pidge stuttered, rubbing at her temples with shaking hands. “... Okay. We get him off the ship. Carefully. Hunk can wait here with him while the two of us run back to Blue. You can pilot Blue over here while I get the med bay ready. When we get back, Hunk can carry him onto the ship. Does that seem like a plan?”

Lance hesitated and then nodded, having nothing better to suggest. It seemed like the most reasonable option they had.

Again, he shifted an arm behind the pilot’s back (“Make sure you support his neck,” Pidge instructed) and unclasped the belts crossing over his chest. As he undid the various straps, he noticed something at the pilot’s hip that he hadn’t noticed before––some kind of scabbard with what looked like a blade sticking out of it, its handle wrapped tightly in cloth. It only distracted him for a moment before he slid his other arm under the boy’s knees and tried to lift him to no avail.

“Oh, boy. He’s heavier than he looks,” Lance wheezed. “I think we’re gonna need Hunk for this. Hey, Hunk? Buddy?”

“Yeah?” Hunk called back, a note of trepidation in his voice. “Everything okay down there?”

“Not exactly. We need to get this injured guy out of here, but I don’t think I can lift him. Think you can help me out?”

A short pause and then, “O-Okay. I’ll be right there.”

The ship creaked as Hunk stepped onto it, and Lance rushed over to meet him at the entrance to the cockpit. He put a hand on Hunk’s arm.

“I gotta warn you, there’s a lot of blood. Are you gonna be okay?”

Hunk nodded, biting his lip as he glanced down at the floor. “Yeah, I––I can keep it together.”

He moved towards where Pidge was standing and whimpered a little when he saw how bad the situation was. But he took a deep breath and composed himself. “Okay, okay, I can do this.”

They all managed to make it out of the ruined ship in one piece. Pidge and Rover took the lead, with Rover’s light guiding their way. Pidge leapt out first. Lance followed her and stayed underneath the opening in case Hunk slipped while carrying the wounded pilot out. Fortunately, Hunk managed to step down with only the slightest stumble, his arms secure under the weight of the limp body.

Lance tried to relay the plan to Hunk as they stumbled down the slope.

“So, Pidge and I are gonna run back to Blue. I’m gonna fly Blue over here while Pidge prepares the med bay, and then you’ll carry him onto the ship.”

“Whoa, what? You’re gonna leave me alone with this guy while you two go back to the ship? What if something happens? What if––”

“It’s gonna be okay, Hunk,” Lance cut him off, trying to reassure himself just as much as he was attempting to reassure his friend. “We have that healing serum Pidge found. We’re gonna save him.”

He hoped he was right about that.

At the bottom of the slope, Hunk knelt down to carefully lower the pilot to the ground. Lance handed Hunk his rumpled, bloodstained jacket. “Here. Keep putting pressure on the wound.” He looked down and saw there was already crimson leaking out onto the rust-colored soil, and his head reeled. They were running out of time.

Hunk winced but took the jacket from Lance’s hands. “Okay, I’m on it.”

“Thanks, Hunk.” Lance reached down to squeeze his shoulder, offering him a weak smile. “I can always count on you, buddy. We’ll be back in just a minute, I promise.”

He cast one more worried look at the boy stretched out on the ground, disturbed by how still he was lying.

Just hang in there, he thought, and then he took off running after Pidge.

—

The color of the sky had deepened considerably by the time they reached Blue. The last light was fading, and stars had begun to emerge from the darkness.

Blue started to lower her gangway before they even reached her, as if she had somehow sensed them coming––which was odd, but right now Lance didn’t have time to question it. He sprinted up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He could hear the metallic clamoring of Pidge following after him.

They parted ways at the top of the gangway. Pidge and Rover rushed down the corridor towards the med bay, while Lance stumbled into the cockpit.

Blue’s dashboard lit up immediately as Lance collapsed into the piloting chair. He inhaled deeply and could smell the sweat and smoke on his clothes. As he reached for the controls, he noticed how badly his hands were shaking, how his fingers were spattered with blood.

“Okay, okay,” he breathed out, trying to calm the furious pounding of his heart. “Focus.”

Strangely, that single word seemed to work like a charm. Lance felt an unexpected calmness wash over him. It was strange, but it felt almost like Blue herself was offering him solace.

“Thanks, girl,” he whispered as they started to hover off the ground. “Now, let’s do this.”

Even though he was piloting Blue, Lance felt as if the ship was piloting itself. They skimmed effortlessly over the surface of Rivlax, dodging the peaks of all the mountains of waste. It was as if Blue somehow knew the route directly to the site of the crash.

As Lance landed Blue as close to the site as he could, he could barely make out the shape of Hunk running towards them with the pilot cradled in his arms. Quickly, Lance punched a button on Blue’s dashboard to lower the gangway and raced out of the cockpit.

Hunk came thudding up the steps a moment later, not even looking at Lance before he headed straight towards the med bay. Lance ran after him down the narrow corridor, trying to get a glimpse of the boy, but he couldn’t see anything except his legs dangling over Hunk’s arm. A splatter of blood hit the white floor, and Lance winced as he skirted around it.

When he reached the med bay, Hunk was already lowering the injured pilot onto the cot in the corner.

“—Still breathing, last I checked,” Hunk was saying, voice shaky with worry. “But … I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood. Are you sure this is going to work?”

Pidge was in the opposite corner of the room, hunched over a table and doing something Lance couldn’t see—but he saw she was wearing some kind of green smock over her clothes, her hands covered by clear latex gloves. A sharp smell of chemicals permeated the air.

“No, I don’t know for sure,” Pidge answered without looking up from what she was doing. “But it’s the only option we have. I need you guys to start getting his suit off. I’m gonna administer the serum right away, and then I’ll need to bandage up the wound, so we need to move quickly.”

“What? Why do you need to bandage it?” Lance demanded. “Isn’t the serum gonna—”

“Lance, focus,” said Hunk. “I need your help over here.”

“Okay, okay.”

Lance hurried over to the opposite side of the bed from where Hunk was standing. Something squeezed inside his chest when he saw how alarmingly still the pilot was lying, his blood already staining the sheets.

“Okay,” Lance said again, practically choking on the word. “Um.”

He reached down to place his hands on either side of the pilot’s helmet. The visor was practically opaque on the outside, obscuring the face underneath, and Lance braced himself as he tugged the helmet free as gently as he could manage.

He froze.

First of all, the pilot looked younger than Lance had expected—probably not much older than Lance himself, judging by his youthful facial features. But strangely, despite appearing to be a teenager, the boy’s hair was white. Long, silvery strands of it fell across his pale face, and Lance had an odd compulsion to brush them away which he barely resisted.

The boy’s eyes remained closed, his dark eyelashes a sharp contrast against his skin. His face looked drawn and ashen like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days, and yet there was something shockingly ethereal about his appearance that knocked the breath out of Lance’s lungs for a moment.

“Lance,” Hunk said sharply, snapping him out of it. “Come on! We need to figure out how to get this suit off.”

“Oh … right,” Lance stuttered.

He tossed the helmet towards the foot of the bed. Hunk patted the front of the boy’s flightsuit before he felt the back of his neck and made a noise of triumph.

“Okay, I’m gonna unzip it. Start getting his arms out of the sleeves.”

“O-Okay.”

Lance had managed to keep it together up until now, but he suddenly felt very strange. Everything felt sharp and bright, the air stale and cold. He was starting to get light headed, and he desperately willed himself not to pass out as he moved closer to the bed again.

Hunk had started to unzip the back of the boy’s suit, and Lance reached down to grasp the pliant fabric and start to work it off the boy’s shoulders. But he didn’t get far before something gave him pause again—something gold glinting against the boy’s neck.

No … he had to stop getting distracted. Lance mentally shook himself as he pulled the suit down a bit further, starting to tug one arm free—

And that’s when he noticed something dark resting against the boy’s chest. His eyes flitted towards it.

It was a talisman.

One that looked exactly like Lance’s.

Well, not exactly, because the oval-shaped gem at its center was a deep shade of crimson instead of blue. But it had the same golden rays branching away from it, the same mysterious pattern etched across its surface.

Hunk noticed it at the same time, and he inhaled sharply. “Lance,” he said. “Isn’t that … ?”

He didn’t have time to complete the question before Pidge came rushing in and elbowed Lance aside with surprising force.

“Guys, what the hell are you doing? Get the damn suit off, I need to inject the serum before we lose him!”

Her shouting broke Hunk and Lance out of their stupor, and they both grasped at the suit again to peel it down to the boy’s waist.

Meanwhile, Pidge grabbed his arm with one hand while she produced a syringe with her other hand and pushed the needle into the inside of the boy’s elbow.

If the injection of the serum had any effect at all, it wasn’t instantaneous. The boy remained completely limp, his face not even twitching at the administration of the drug.

Pidge drew the needle out again and set it on the small metal table she had wheeled over, which also bore an array of gauze and bandages which she immediately reached for.

She worked quickly and expertly, on occasion asking for Lance and Hunk’s help with handing her things or holding the boy still as she patched him up––although he didn’t seem particularly resistant to the process.

Lance managed to assist Pidge when necessary, but he felt as if he was in a trance, going through his movements robotically. He kept staring at the unconscious boy’s face, watching for the slightest flicker in his features to display a sign of life, but there was nothing.

Then there was the talisman, which Lance was still struggling to comprehend. Every time he looked at it, he expected it to disappear. Yet there it was, glinting in the stark light. Lance was acutely aware of his own talisman hidden under his shirt, a familiar weight against his chest.

Finally, Pidge finished bandaging the wound, and she stepped back with a lengthy sigh. She reached for one last object from the side table: what appeared to be some kind of thin metal cuff, which she attached to the boy’s wrist. It immediately started to glow blue. A corresponding hologram appeared in the air above the bed and displayed a graph of the boy’s heartbeat, which at least seemed steadier now than when Lance had first checked it.

Pidge frowned at the shifting numbers on the chart, and Lance sidled up behind her to look over her shoulder.

"So ... is it working?” he asked. “Is he gonna be okay?"

"I don't know, it's hard to tell. At least his pulse looks normal, but we need to check how the internal damage is doing. Rover, can you scan him again?"

The droid beeped and obediently sent a scanning beam over the boy again before projecting the results up onto the wall. Pidge moved towards the projection to get a better look. Lance hovered a few feet behind her, crossing his arms and holding back the urge to demand any information. He wished he could understand all the graphs and numbers Rover was displaying, but it was all gibberish to him.

Pidge made a thoughtful "hmm" noise, like she was on the verge of solving a puzzle. She reached up to tap on the projection, which shifted the display to show a different set of numbers.

"What is it?" Lance asked, beginning to lose his patience. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly." Pidge stepped back, and now Lance could see she had a dazed look on her face. "The good news is that I think the serum is working. It's already repairing the internal damage really quickly, so that's a relief."

"Wait, is there also 'bad news'?" Hunk asked, stepping up next to Lance.

"I wouldn't say bad, just a little unexpected." Pidge turned to face them. "I noticed that there's something weird about his blood. It ... has some chemical components that I'm not familiar with."

Lance frowned. "And that means ... ?"

"It means he’s not human. At least, not completely."

Hunk and Lance both fell silent at that, exchanging a surprised look.

"Okay," Lance said slowly. "If he's not human, then what is he?"

"That I can't tell you," Pidge said. "There's countless alien species throughout the universe, so I have no way of knowing."

Lance took another look at the boy lying still in the bed, as if he'd be able to see some evidence of what Pidge had said. Besides the white hair, though, Lance couldn't see anything particularly unusual.

He casually walked over to the bedside, eyes searching the boy's unmoving face.

"Guess we'll just have to ask him. When is he gonna wake up, anyway? Hasn't the serum stuff, like, cured him already?"

"It's not that simple. Yes, the serum is healing him, but it's not gonna cure him instantly. I haven't used Balmeran healing serum before, so my knowledge is only based on research. But from what I understand, it might take a couple days for him to fully heal."

"Days?" Lance blurted, looking up.

Pidge frowned. "You do want him to get better, right?"

"I mean, yeah. I just didn't know it'd take that long."

"Why, what's the rush?" Pidge asked.

Lance crossed his arms. He glanced down at the boy again, at the red talisman resting against his pale chest.

"Nothing," he said. "I just want to find out who he is."

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder. "I think we all do, Lance. But right now, we just need to wait."

"Hunk's right," Pidge agreed. "Right now, what's most important is that he recovers."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Lance. But even as he uttered the words, he could feel that odd tug in his chest again, as if something was trying to break free.

There wasn't much to say or do after that, so they began to clean up the med bay as best as they could. Pidge returned various items to their cabinets, and Lance took up the unpleasant task of cleaning up all the blood since he knew it would probably make Hunk sick.

As they bustled around the room in silence, Lance kept looking over at the cot in the corner, subtly checking the boy for any sign of movement, but he hadn’t seen anything noteworthy. Only the faint blips of his heartbeat over the holographic monitor were any reassurance that he was still alive.

When everything was more or less cleaned up, Rover did another scan and Pidge seemed satisfied by whatever she saw.

"He actually seems to be improving more quickly than I thought," she observed, tapping her chin. "I wonder if it's something to do with his biology, since he's apparently not human. I don't know if that means if he'll wake up any sooner, but ..." She trailed off, yawning.

Her assessment made Lance perk up slightly, a warm relief settling into his bones. “Well, that's good,” he said and then also yawned. “God, what time is it? Must be getting pretty late.”

"I don't even know, but I'm exhausted," said Hunk, rubbing at his forehead. "But I guess we can't really leave him by himself."

"I can watch him overnight," Pidge offered. "Someone should probably be around in case something goes wrong."

Lance raised an eyebrow, noticing that she already had huge dark circles under her eyes. She suddenly looked even smaller and younger. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. Rover can always wake me up if I doze off. He has a very annoying alarm function."

Rover made a series of beeping sounds of various pitches.

"No, please don't demonstrate," Pidge said, wearily waving the droid away with one hand.

"Okay," Lance sighed. "Well, you should probably eat something, at least. We all should."

"I'm on it," Hunk said. "I can whip something up for you guys. Probably should wash up first, though. Pidge, do you need us to do anything else?"

Pidge shrugged in response. "Not right now. There's not much else we can do at the moment except wait for the serum to do its thing."

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna duck out for a few minutes, then. I'll let you guys know when food's ready."

Lance shot him a tired smile. "Thanks, Hunk. You're the best."

"Hey, anything for my friends." Hunk briefly squeezed an arm around Lance and smiled at Pidge before he headed out of the room.

Lance remained standing in the center of the med bay. Now it was just him and Pidge, alone with the comatose pilot. Pidge didn't even seem to notice Lance was there; she just stood next to the bed and studied the chart on the heart monitor again, watching the steady digital peaks and valleys.

Lance had the sense he wasn't needed here, and his instinct was to back silently out of the room. But something held him back.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, uh. Pidge?"

She turned to face him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yeah?"

"I wanted to say, um ..." Lance crossed his arms, frowning at the tiled floor. "I'm sorry. I feel like we kinda started off on the wrong foot, and I was a little rude to you when you first approached us."

Pidge scoffed. "A little?"

"Okay, so I was really rude. And I apologize for it," Lance said, looking up sincerely. "I just wanted to say, I'm glad we met you. You're, like, super smart. And you saved this guy's life," he added, nodding towards the boy on the bed.

Pidge scratched the back of her neck with a small, modest smile. “I wouldn't have been able to do that without you guys. Plus, you're the one who insisted on going into the crashed ship in the first place.”

"Still ... you have a lot of important knowledge and you've kept such a level head throughout this whole thing. I admire that."

"Thanks," Pidge said, looking away. "And I think I owe you an apology, too. I kind of snapped at you guys, and I shouldn't have done that."

Lance didn't know what she meant at first and then realized she was referring to when he'd frozen up earlier ... when he'd first noticed the boy's talisman. Without even thinking about it, he reached up to touch his own talisman through his shirt before letting his hand drop again.

"It's okay," he managed to say. "It was my fault. I blanked out at a bad moment, and I’m sorry about that. Guess I was kind of freaking out."

"So was I. But at least it's over now. I hope so, anyway. We just have to wait for him to wake up."

Lance meandered forward a few steps to stand next to her, following her gaze to the prone figure on the bed. He could have sworn the boy's facial expression had shifted slightly, a little crease forming at the center of his brow like he was dreaming about something unpleasant. Lance felt an odd catch in his chest at the sight, overcome with an unwarranted urge to reach out and smooth that frown away with the touch of his fingers. Instead, he kept his arms firmly crossed.

Pidge's voice snapped him out of his daze. "You don't have to stick around if you don't want to. I can keep an eye on him if you need a break."

"Hmm? Oh." Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I––I might go wash up and then talk to Hunk for a sec. But I'll be back soon."

Without looking at him, Pidge nodded. Again, Lance was struck by how weary she looked for someone so young. He wondered what she was really doing out here in the first place, why this lone girl was traveling across the universe by herself. But now didn't seem like a good time to pry.

"Hey," he said, and he reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "I'm really glad we brought you along, by the way. Welcome to the team, kid."

At that, she gave him a surprised smile. "Thanks, Lance," she said and then punched him lightly on the arm. "And don't call me kid."

--

Lance could smell a pleasant aroma wafting out of the kitchen when he was only halfway down the hallway. He tried to determine what the scent was––something vaguely spicy, from what he could tell. Despite the tense circumstances, a calming feeling washed over him. The smell of Hunk's cooking always had that effect on him, never failing to instill a feeling of comfort and safety. It made him think of home.

"Hey, buddy. What're you cooking up in here?" he asked as he strolled in.

The kitchen was barely larger than a closet, and Lance could tell by the state of disarray that Hunk was justifiably stressed out. Various pots and pans were stacked high in the tiny metal sink, and about twenty different jars of spices were lined up on the counter. Hunk was hunched over something boiling on the stove, stirring it vigorously with one hand while he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow with the other.

"Oh ... hey, Lance. I don't know, I’m kind of experimenting. I'm using this kinda seaweed-y plant I found back on Xubos, which I've been told has the consistency of noodles, so ... it's like pasta, basically? And I'm trying to come up with a sauce." He nodded towards the back burner, where a pan was bubbling with a thick orange liquid.

"Looks kind of weird," Lance admitted, "but I trust you. Need help with anything?"

"Yeah, maybe just taste the sauce and let me know what you think?"

"Hmm." Lance dipped a finger in the sauce and tasted it. "Oh boy, that's good.”

“Please tell me you washed your hands first.”

“Uh, of course I did. What kind of monster do you think I am? Anyway ... could be a little spicier, if you ask me."

"There's already like five different spices in there, Lance."

Lance was already busy sprinkling in some kind of red herb.

Hunk gasped and snatched the jar from his hand. "Lance! You can't just ..." He studied the label on the jar and frowned. "Oh. Actually ... you know, that probably is what it was missing."

"What can I say? I'm a genius," Lance said with a lopsided grin.

He propped an arm on Hunk's shoulder and leaned against him. They stood in silence for a minute, watching the food cook on the stovetop. Steam drifted from the boiling water, creating a cloud of warmth around them.

"You doing okay?" Lance asked at last.

"What? Yeah, I'm okay." Hunk glanced up at him and then back down at the makeshift pasta he was stirring.

"You sure? I know this all must've been pretty intense for you."

Hunk huffed out a laugh. "I think it was a little intense for all of us."

"I'll say. This wasn't really how I expected my day to go, that's for sure."

Lance let his arm drop from Hunk's shoulder, and he turned around to lean back against the counter.

"How's Pidge doing?" Hunk asked.

"She's okay, I think. I'll check on her in a couple minutes. I was just telling her how glad I am she joined us."

"I told you bringing her along would be a good idea."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're always right."

Lance slouched against the counter, letting a brief silence settle over them again. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and his fingers brushed against the thin, metallic chain there. Something clenched in his stomach.

Sooner or later, they would have to address the subject.

"You saw it too, right?" Lance said quietly.

"Saw what?"

"The talisman."

Hunk stopped stirring very suddenly. "Oh. Yeah, that." He wiped his hands on his pants, peering at Lance out of the corner of his eye. "It looks like yours."

"Yeah. Exactly."

Lance tugged at the chain, dragging the talisman out into the light. He held it steadily in his palm, studying it in the kitchen's soft yellow glow. It felt heavy in his hand, its dark blue surface gleaming in the light. When he turned it back and forth, he could see tiny particles sparkling inside it.

"So … what do you think it means?" Hunk asked carefully.

"I don't know." Lance frowned at the amulet, letting it drop against his chest again––although he still kept his hand over it, fingers brushing the smooth gem. "That’s what I want to find out. And maybe he'll be able to tell me."

Hunk was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "Right. And that means ..."

He trailed off, but Lance knew what he was trying to say. He felt a strange feeling stir in his stomach, a fluttering sensation that he wasn't sure whether to define as hope or fear.

"It means ..." Lance took a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh before he finally allowed himself to say the words.

"It means I might finally find out where I come from."

--

The food was prepared only a few minutes later, and Hunk and Lance scooped it into three ceramic bowls. Pidge quickly ate in the hallway outside the med bay, thanking them profusely for the meal. She slurped down the plant-noodles with hungry enthusiasm, poking her head around the doorway of the med bay every other minute just to make sure the boy was still alive.

Lance went to go eat in the kitchen, sitting on the counter with his legs dangling towards the floor. The sauce was so spicy that it made his eyes water, but he ate three bowls of food before he finally felt full. It had certainly been a long day, and eating some warm food was exactly what he'd needed.

"Hunk, that was amazing," he stated as he washed his bowl out in the sink.

"Aw ... thanks, Lance." Hunk stood in the doorway, finishing off his own bowl of food. "Although it wouldn't have been as delicious without your help."

"I'm sure it would've been. You've never cooked a bad meal in your life."

Lance took a few pots and pans off the stove and started to wash those, too.

"You don't need to do that, Lance. I can clean up."

"What? No way. You cooked everything, so I'm cleaning," Lance insisted. He looked over at Hunk and nodded towards his empty bowl. "Are you done with that?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Lance looked up at Hunk as he handed over his bowl, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

"You look really tired, man. You should go to bed."

"What? No, I'm fine." Hunk rubbed the heel of his hand against one eye. "I should probably stay up and help out."

"With what? I got the dishes covered, and then I'll probably go to sleep, too."

"What about Pidge? She's probably gonna need our help."

Lance shrugged. "She said she could watch over things."

"I guess ... It just doesn't really seem fair to make her stay up all night."

"True. Maybe I can talk her into letting us take shifts or something." Lance put a hand on Hunk's arm. "But really, buddy, you look like you need some sleep. I can wake you up if we need you, okay?"

Hunk still looked hesitant, but he nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Lance."

"Hug goodnight?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course."

Hunk stretched his arms out and Lance fell gratefully into them. This was a pretty regular routine, but this time they held on a bit longer than usual. Lance buried his face against Hunk's shoulder, relaxing a little at his familiar scent and the security of his strong arms.

When they finally let go, they smiled one more time at each other.

“Hey, Lance?” Hunk said.

“Yeah?”

Hunk’s smile faltered, and he lowered his voice before he spoke again. “Are you okay? Like, really, are you … ?”

Lance frowned back at him. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just––I know you’ve been searching for answers for a long time, so if this guy ends up having some kind of information … I don’t know. I know it’s a big deal to you, and it’s why you wanted to leave home in the first place, but …” He scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I just wanted to say, whether or not you learn anything … you’re my best friend no matter what, okay?”

There was a sudden lump in Lance’s throat. “Thanks, Hunk. You’re the best friend in the universe.” He hesitated. “And … I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I mean, he might not know anything at all.”

"That’s true. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t worrying you too much.”

Lance forced a smile. “It’s not. But thanks for asking, buddy. I really appreciate it.”

Hunk still looked a little skeptical, but he smiled back and squeezed Lance’s shoulder one more time. “Okay. G'night, Lance."

"Night, Hunk."

As his friend left the kitchen, Lance suddenly became aware of how exhausted he felt. The day's events all hit him in a dizzying rush, and he found himself swaying slightly on his feet as he continued to wash the dishes. He'd been planning on drying everything and putting it away, but right now he was so tired he didn't think he could manage it. It could wait until morning.

He casually strolled down the hallway to peek into the med bay. Pidge was pacing the room, tapping madly at some kind of tablet in her hands while Rover hovered over her shoulder.

Lance turned around again and headed back in the direction he'd come from, hands crammed into his pants pockets. He walked past his bedroom and the door to the storage area until he reached the cockpit. Once inside, he sat down in the pilot's chair with a heavy sigh and slouched down with his feet outstretched.

Above him, through Blue's domed windshield, he could see the stars blanketing the sky over Rivlax in mesmerizing patterns.

All of a sudden, he found himself thinking of home––of lying on the grass behind the house while his parents taught him each of the constellations in hushed voices. It all felt so strange and distant now, like something that had happened to someone else.

He pulled out his talisman again and gripped it so that its edges started to dig into his palm. As much as he tried to chase it away, he found himself pulled into a much less pleasant string of memories.

Although it felt like a lifetime ago, he could still see the tears in his mother's eyes and his father staring down in shame.

“We’re so sorry, Lance. We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

And he could still feel his own tears, hot and furious, spilling down his face.

“Did you want me to find out at all? Were you ever going to tell me I’m not your son?”

Each time he remembered, he felt a deep pang of regret at what he’d said, wishing more than anything that he could take it back. He’d never forget the grief-stricken expressions on his parents’ faces, like they’d lost something forever. Lost him.

On the day he’d left, his heart had settled somewhat from the initial shock. Ever since he learned the truth, he’d spent days and nights contemplating what to do, holding his talisman against his chest.

He and Hunk had made their plans. In their flight school days, they had always spoken of traveling the universe together––but now they had a reason.

“I need to find out where I come from,” he’d told his mother, holding her hands in his. And she’d understood.

He’d held her while she cried, arms wrapped tightly around him and face buried against his chest.

“Just promise you’ll come back. And that wherever you go, whatever you find out … your home is here, Lance. We are your family.”

“I know. … I promise, Mama.”

He resurfaced from the memory, startled back to awareness by the fierce stinging in his eyes. Hastily, he wiped away the tears with the back of his hand and blinked until his vision cleared. His talisman was still clutched in his other hand, and he quickly shoved it back under his shirt collar.

The dashboard in front of him glowed softly, and he felt a warmth seeping into the air like Blue was trying to calm him down.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered to the ship, even though he knew it was probably crazy to believe she could actually hear him. “It was just a long day, you know? This whole thing is …”

He trailed off, unable to come up with a word that fathomed the spectrum of emotions he was experiencing. It had been more than a year since he’d left home to search the universe for some hint of his true identity, and for it to just literally fall right out of the sky when he was least expecting it, attached to some boy he knew absolutely nothing about …

It didn’t seem possible, and yet somehow it was.

He was finally going to know the truth.

And he was terrified of it.

--

Lance tried not to dwell in worry for too long. After spending a few more minutes brooding in the cockpit, he forced himself back onto his feet again. He yawned and swayed a little, gripping onto the side of the pilot chair.

"Okay," he said to himself, trying to summon up another wave of energy. "Okay ..."

He felt like he was ready to sleep for ten years or so, but at the same time he was buzzing with too many questions and fears to go lie down.

Instead, he found himself drawn towards the med bay again. As he crept inside, he found Pidge sitting on a stool in the corner of the room near the bed, her head leaning back against the wall while she snored loudly. Rover seemed to be in some form of stasis as well, sitting idle on her lap with his center light pulsing in and out dimly.

Next to them, the boy was still lying on the bed and didn't appear to have moved at all, except now he had a thin blue blanket thrown over him. The monitor above the bed continued to mark his heartbeat with faint beeping noises, quiet but steady.

Lance hesitated in the doorway before he made his careful way across the room to where Pidge was sleeping. He gently tapped her on the shoulder, and she sat up with a startled noise.

"What? Where ..." She blinked blearily a few times before the realization dawned on her face. "Oh, gosh. Did I fall asleep?" She frowned down at Rover, whose center light had lit up at the sudden movement. "You were supposed to wake me up!"

Rover beeped out a response, and Pidge let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right."

"What's he saying?" Lance asked.

"That I need my rest, too. I can't argue with him, or he'll probably give me a very long lecture on the hazards of sleep deprivation."

Lance chuckled. "This is something that happens a lot, I take it?"

"Yeah, he can be very persistent." Pidge patted the drone with a fond smile. "I guess he's just looking out for me." Her voice grew quieter at those words, her smile faltering.

Lance remembered her saying something about how Rover used to be her mom's, and he wondered if it had something to do with that ... but he figured it was a bad idea to bring up the subject on such an already emotionally-taxing evening.

"So," he said after a brief silence. "I was thinking maybe we could take shifts watching him." He nodded towards the bed. "If you want to go to your room and sleep for a while, I don't mind staying here."

Pidge shifted on the stool. "Oh ... are you sure? I mean, I'm okay staying up all night. Really, it's fine." Rover made a few protesting sounds and Pidge shushed him.

"I think your little droid friend is right," Lance said. "You've already done more than enough work today, Pidge. You should get some sleep."

She still looked hesitant. "But what if something happens and I'm not here? What if––"

"I can come get you if anything's wrong," Lance cut her off. "Really, I owe you for all your help."

It took a moment for Pidge to answer as she looked one more time at the sleeping boy.

Finally, she let out a sigh of surrender. "All right. But only because I'm fairly certain he's going to be okay. He seems to have been steadily improving since I injected the serum."

Lance brightened a little at that. "Oh, yeah? That's good news."

"Yeah. Of course, I don't want to make any promises. Like I said, I don't have experience using this cure before, but it does seem to be working."

As she spoke, Pidge hopped off the stool and yawned. "It looks like everything should be fine, really. I expect him to stay in a pretty stable condition overnight ... but if anything seems wrong, you have to come wake me up right away. Got it?"

She shot Lance such an intense glare that he almost forgot she was barely five feet tall.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." He put his hands up defensively. "Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good." Pidge stretched her arms above her head and then let them drop down again with a sigh. "In that case, I'm gonna try to get some shut-eye. Come on, Rover."

She started to move towards the door with the droid hovering in her wake, but she stopped for a moment in the doorway to smile at Lance. "Oh, and thanks, by the way."

"No problem. G'night, Pidge."

"Good night."

The sound of Pidge's footsteps echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the whirring noise of Rover drifting beside her. Lance heard the door to her room slide open and then close again with a quiet whoosh.

He remained standing in the same spot, arms crossed. Stillness settled over the med bay, which was still achingly bright and filled with a stinging, chemical smell. Lance stood stiffly a few feet from the bed, where the boy was lying alarmingly still. The blanket was drawn up to his waist, where several overlapping white stripes of bandage were visible.

Lance didn't know how long he stood there, but finally he shook himself out of the odd stupor and turned around. Next to the open doorway was a lightswitch with an adjustable dial, which Lance turned slightly to dim the fluorescent lights to a less blinding level.

With that done, he cautiously inched towards the bed again until his knee knocked against the stool where Pidge had been sitting a minute ago. The metallic clang barely drowned out his curse of pain. Lance reached down to rub the sore spot––but his hand froze when he swore he saw the boy's face twitch slightly at the noise.

Lance stood very still for a moment, hardly daring to breathe, like he had upset some kind of delicate balance. But the boy's face had stilled again––if it had even moved in the first place––features relaxed and unchanging as if sculpted from marble.

Finally, with a sigh, Lance eased onto the stool. It seemed he would probably be here for a while. The least he could do was try and get comfortable, although the stout metal stool was anything but that. Lance planted his feet on the floor, one leg jiggling up and down impatiently while he tapped his fingers against his knee.

For some reason, his heart wouldn't stop racing. He took a deep breath and released it again, trying to find something to focus on other than the passing minutes, but he kept finding his gaze drawn back to the bed and the person lying in it.

The boy's head was turned slightly to one side, facing Lance. Up until now, Lance had only allowed himself glimpses of him––this mysterious traveler who had fallen out of the sky. But now, in the dim lighting, he dared to study the sleeping stranger with more careful scrutiny than he had before.

He noticed the dark circles beneath the boy's eyes and a fading bruise along one of his cheekbones. A faint scar ran along his jawline, and something dark––dirt or soot maybe––smudged his forehead. His white hair seemed to almost glow in the bluish lighting from the monitor above him, and a few strands of it fluttered by his parted lips every time he exhaled.

Lance sat very still, feeling like somehow his gaze was becoming invasive, and yet he couldn't stop looking. He was afraid that the slightest sound or movement would awaken the other boy, and yet at the same time, he was tempted to just reach out and gently shake him by the shoulder. Lance knew he needed to let him rest, but he was itching with so many questions.

His eyes trailed to where the thin gold chain glimmered against the boy's throat, and again he was struck with curiosity. Lance shifted closer to the edge of the stool, trying to get a better look at the red amulet that rested against the boy's chest, rising and falling slightly in time with his slow breathing.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Lance rose to his feet, his movements slow and calculated as he tried not to make any noise. He drifted closer, closing the distance between himself and the bed. He held his breath as he looked down, trying to ignore the rushing sound in his ears.

He'd almost started to believe he'd imagined it, but it was still there. There was no doubt the talisman matched his own, from its distinct shape to the map-like pattern carved into its surface with the tiny heart at its center.

Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, Lance could feel his own talisman, the cool metal seemingly growing warmer against his skin. He had a strange buzzing in his fingertips and his mind suddenly seemed to shut down. His hand seemed to reach out of its own accord, hovering over the red talisman, and––

Suddenly, Lance became aware of a disturbance from the heart monitor. The blipping noise had started to grow faster, and when he looked up at the holographic screen, he could see the peaks on the graph had grown marginally closer together. Frowning in concern, Lance started to back away.

But that's when he felt a hand close tightly around his wrist. Gasping, he looked down again.

And he saw that the boy's eyes were open.

Chapter Text

The boy in the bed kept his fingers wrapped firmly around Lance's wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for someone who had been nearly dead a few hours ago. They both remained frozen for several tense moments.

Lance's fingers hovered over the talisman, an inch away from brushing against it. His mind went blank as he stared down at the other boy, who stared back at him with wide, questioning eyes that were a startling shade of violet.

The dazed look on the boy’s face transformed into a frown as his breathing quickened. The more his eyes focused on Lance, the more a wild panic started to set into them.

"Who are you?" he asked sharply. It sounded like he'd meant it to come out with more ferocity, but his voice rasped on the words like he hadn't spoken in weeks.

Lance was speechless, tensing at the sound of his voice. Not that Lance had thought he couldn't speak, but he hadn't been prepared for the sudden question.

Before he could answer, the boy started to sit up. "Where's ... What ... Ahh." He let go of Lance's wrist to grasp at his bandaged midsection, hissing in pain.

"Whoa, hey," Lance blurted, finding his voice. "You probably shouldn't––" He started to reach out, but his hand just hovered awkwardly near the boy's shoulder in hesitation.

The boy shrank away from him like a frightened, caged animal. Lance could hear his heartbeat on the monitor speeding up to a somewhat alarming pace. He thought about dashing out of the room to find Pidge, but he couldn’t seem to move. Besides, he assumed Rover was synced up to the monitor and would alert Pidge if anything was horribly wrong.

"What––What did you do to me?" The boy’s eyebrows furrowed together, his expression torn somewhere between fury and terror. He kept a protective arm wrapped around his waist.

Lance had just been contemplating running from the room to find Pidge after all, but those words stopped him.

"What? I didn't do anything to you. I saved you," he stammered, frowning. "Well, I mean, I had some help from my friends. They're asleep right now, but––" He stopped himself mid-sentence. What the hell was he saying?

The boy just continued to stare at him in confusion, looking him up and down like he was searching for some sign of a threat.

Lance released a heavy sigh, trying to calm his own racing heartbeat. He put his hands up to show he wasn't hiding any weapons.

"Hey, look. I'm not going to hurt you." He attempted a hesitant smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but you're safe here. I promise."

The boy still frowned in suspicion, although one of his dark eyebrows twitched. "Then ... then what ..."

The words slurred together and he swayed to one side as the glazed look seeped back into his eyes.

Alarmed, Lance dove forward to catch him by the shoulder. The boy tensed at his touch but didn't pull away this time. His skin was cool and smooth under Lance's fingers.

"Uh ..." Lance's mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he swallowed. "Maybe––Maybe you should lie down again."

The boy shrugged him off. "No, I'm okay," he insisted, sitting up straight. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, holding a hand up to his forehead. "I ... shit, what happened?"

Lance raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. "You mean you don't remember?"

"No, I can't ... can't remember anything."

The boy had drawn his knees up to his chest, and he stared at them with widening eyes. His breathing started to go shallow and Lance immediately recognized he was going into a panic.

"Hey, hey." He placed both hands on the boy's shoulders this time and could feel how badly he was shaking. "It's okay. We're here to help you, and we'll figure this out. But for now, you should probably––"

The boy looked up suddenly, and Lance let go of him. Despite Lance's advice, he seemed too intent on getting answers to lie back down.

"You said you saved me. What––What did you save me from?"

"Well ..." Lance sank back down on the stool next to the bed and let out a heavy sigh. "Listen, I can only tell you as much as I know. We're on a planet called Rivlax."

"Rivlax," the boy murmured, frowning like he had heard the name before.

"Yeah. Are you from around here?"

He only received a blank look in return.

"O-kay," Lance said slowly, not knowing how to interpret that. "Anyway, my friends and I came here to scavenge some stuff and we found your ship crashed here. And you were in it, and you––"

He stopped, unsure of how much detail he should get into. It still made him a little dizzy thinking about what he'd seen upon stumbling into that cockpit––the blood pooling on the floor, the boy half-dead in the chair ...

"Uh ... you were wounded really badly," Lance managed to say.

On instinct, his gaze flitted towards the boy’s bandaged torso, where the worst of the damage had been. All of a sudden, he remembered what Pidge had said to him back on the crashed ship.

“Some of it must have been from the crash, but my friend noticed you had some kinda laser wound, too––like someone had shot you, she said.”

The boy stiffened at those words.

“Do you remember anything like that?” Lance asked.

“I …” the boy started to answer and then stopped abruptly. He placed his hand over his stomach where he’d been injured, his frown deepening. “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “I remember running. I––I got hit from behind. And then I was in the ship, and––”

He bit his lip, swaying a little again. “I was supposed to find someone, I think? Someone––”

He broke off, like the memory had suddenly unraveled into nothingness.

"It's okay," Lance said when it became clear the boy had said all he was able to. "This is probably a lot to process, so it's alright if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's not that," the boy answered. He kept an arm around his abdomen, staring at the wall like he expected answers to appear out of thin air. "It’s ... I'm trying to remember what happened, but I can't."

Lance frowned, unsure of what to make of this situation. "Well, uh ... what about what happened before the accident?"

The boy bit his lip like he was concentrating very hard, but ultimately he only sighed in frustration. "No, it's just––there's nothing. I can't remember anything."

"Hmm." Lance leaned back and crossed his arms. "Okay, maybe we should start with something simpler. What's your name?"

"My name?" The boy repeated the word like he'd never heard it before. He blinked, shaking his head. "It's, ah ... It's ..." His frown fell away, his eyes going wide with sudden horror.

Lance sat up straight again. "Oh, quiznak. You don't even remember what your name is?"

"Of course I know what my name is," the boy snapped, but the ensuing silence suggested otherwise. "I just need a second." He took a deep breath as he scowled in concentration again. "It’s … Ah ... key ... key ... Shit."

Lance couldn't help but snort at that. "Ah-key-key Shit?"

The boy glared at him, and Lance's smirk dropped. "It's not funny. All I can remember is that it has some kinda 'key' sound in it."

"A 'key' sound, huh?" Lance scratched his chin in thought. "Like, uh ... Key ... th? Keith?"

“Keith ...” the boy repeated like he was trying it out and then shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”

Lance shrugged. “Okay. Well, that’s what I’m gonna call you until you remember your real name, whatever it is.”

The boy––now dubbed Keith––didn’t exactly look happy at the suggestion, but he didn’t protest either. His shoulders sagged as another wave of exhaustion hit him. One of his hands drifted absently towards his talisman and Lance watched the movement with sudden alertness.

“That talisman you have there,” he said, trying to make it sound casual. “Do you know what it is? Or what it means?”

Keith clenched his fingers around the amulet in question, then held it up to glare at it with his brow furrowed, a few strands of white hair falling into his eyes. He ran a thumb over the symbol on the talisman in silent contemplation.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I just remember I’ve had it for a long time. That it means something important.”

Even though it wasn’t much information, Lance’s heart skipped at those words. Something important. But what? He considered pulling out his own talisman, but he figured Keith was probably overwhelmed enough right now, and he didn’t want to make things worse.

“Okay,” Lance sighed. “I was just wondering. Thought maybe it’d jog your memory or something.”

Keith didn’t seem to hear him. His hand had dropped from the talisman to clutch at his stomach again, and he grimaced in pain.

“Whoa, you okay?” Lance demanded, jumping to his feet again.

“I’m fine,” Keith said tightly. “I just …”

He swayed backwards. Fortunately, Lance was right there to catch him by the arm and ease him back onto the bed.

“Yeah, I think you need to rest some more. A lot more. My friend Pidge gave you some kinda healing serum, but she said it’d take a couple days.”

Keith’s eyes were still open but just barely, starting to drift shut again. “You didn’t … didn’t tell me what your name is,” he said haltingly.

“What? Oh, right.” Lance’s face felt strangely warm, and he cleared his throat. “Name’s Lance. Uh … Nice to meet you.”

Keith blinked slowly, blearily. He made a quiet, incoherent noise––a soft “hmm” like he found something amusing. “Lance …” he murmured, like he was going to say something else. But before he could, his eyes fluttered closed.

Lance stood over him for a few long moments, an odd sense of disappointment coming over him when he realized Keith had fallen asleep again. He looked up at the heart monitor to make sure there was nothing to be concerned about and heaved a small sigh of relief when he saw everything looked normal.

The silence felt even more absolute now. Lance realized that he still had a hand resting on Keith’s arm and he snatched it away.

When it was clear Keith wasn't going to wake up again for a while, Lance tensely lowered himself onto the stool again. His pulse thrummed in his ears. He couldn't stop watching Keith's face and every tiny movement in it as he slept––a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a brief flickering under his eyelids like he was dreaming.

"Who are you?" Lance murmured into the stillness.

He received no answer.

--

"Wait ... So you're telling me he woke up in the middle of the night and you didn't come get me right away?"

Pidge stood in front of Lance in the doorway of the med bay, her hands on her hips.

"I didn't want to bother you or anything," Lance said, draping an arm against the doorframe. "You'd already done so much work and you seemed exhausted. And, well, you didn't miss much. He was only awake for like two minutes and then passed out again. Nothing seemed to be super wrong––oh, except he has amnesia apparently."

Pidge's eyes widened. "He what?"

Right then, the door to Hunk's room slid open and he strolled out with a loud yawn. "Morning, guys. Any updates?"

"Yeah," Pidge snapped, crossing her arms. “The guy we rescued woke up in the middle of the night and Lance didn’t tell me.”

“Keith,” Lance said, and Hunk and Pidge both stared at him like he’d spoken in some alien dialect. “What? That’s what I’ve decided to call him.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘decided to call him’? Does he not have a name already?”

“He doesn’t remember it. Except he said it has some ‘key’ sound in it, and Keith was the only thing I could think of.”

Pidge rubbed at her temples. “Oh quiznak, he can’t even remember what his name is?”

“Wow, already catching a case of sailor’s mouth I see,” Lance commented.

He only received a deathly glare in response. “Let me through.” Pidge elbowed past Lance into the med bay. Rover, who had been hovering right behind her in the corridor, followed her.

Lance was about to go after them when Hunk grabbed him by the arm.

“Wait a second, Lance. Were you saying this guy––uh, Keith––woke up in the middle of the night? What happened?”

Lance turned his head minutely to look into the room, where he saw Pidge standing next to the bed and reading something Rover had projected onto the wall. Keith appeared to still be asleep.

Turning back to Hunk, Lance lowered his voice. “There’s not much to report. He wasn’t awake for very long, and he couldn’t really tell me anything. He doesn’t remember how he got here, or the accident, or even what his name is, apparently.”

"Jeez," Hunk breathed out. "That doesn't sound good. Is there anything he does remember?"

"I don't know. He said something about needing to find someone? Other than that, nothing."

Hunk peered past Lance into the med bay and then whispered, "Did you ask him about the ... ?" He trailed off meaningfully.

Lance sighed and shook his head. "I asked him about the talisman, but he said he couldn't remember where it came from, either. He just said he knew it was something important."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, Lance."

"It's okay. I didn't pry too much about it, and I didn't tell him why I was asking. I didn't want to overwhelm him."

"Yeah, makes sense." Hunk shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, maybe he'll remember eventually."

"Maybe. But we don't even know how long he's gonna stick around with us."

"Guys," Pidge called from inside the room right then, startling Hunk and Lance out of their conversation.

They both stumbled through the doorway into the stark brightness of the med bay. Lance's heart had leapt into his throat at the urgency in Pidge's tone, fearing that something had gone wrong. But his racing pulse calmed down when he saw she'd called them for the opposite reason: Keith was awake again.

He was already stirring, mumbling something as he sat up with one hand clutched to his head. It was then that he caught sight of Pidge standing at the bedside staring at him. He froze, his eyes flying wide. Once he turned and saw Lance, though, his shoulders relaxed somewhat.

"Oh. It's you."

Lance scoffed. "Wow. Good morning to you, too."

Keith looked confused, his hand dropping onto his lap. "Is it morning already? How long was I ..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Uh … Who are all of you?"

"Well, you've already met me, Lance, the best pilot slash sharpshooter in the universe––"

Hunk snorted and Lance elbowed him.

"This is Hunk, my lifelong best friend and probably the smartest engineer in the history of forever."

"Aw, Lance," said Hunk before he turned his attention towards Keith with a hesitant smile. "Anyway, hi. Nice to meet you."

Keith didn't say anything, his violet eyes flitting from Hunk to Lance like this was all happening too quickly for him to process it.

"And this is our newest addition to the crew, Pidge," Lance continued, gesturing towards Pidge. "She's our ... medic."

Pidge brightened at the title.

"Really?" Keith looked at Pidge again with a frown. "You look really young for a medic."

Her face fell and she looked sheepishly at the floor. "I'm not, really. Lance is kind of exaggerating. I'm not technically a medic, just training to be one."

"Well, you saved his life at any rate," Lance said.

Pidge shrugged. "It was a team effort," she told Keith. "Lance was the one who wanted to check out your crashed ship in the first place. And Hunk carried you out of it. And they both helped me to get you patched up."

Keith's hand rested against the bandages covering his stomach where the wound had been. He'd been watching Pidge with a dazed expression as she spoke, like he didn't quite understand what she was saying, but now he seemed to snap out of it.

"Wow, thank you," he managed to say at last. He looked around at each of them. "All of you. Seriously."

"All in a day's work," said Lance, and Hunk elbowed him again. "Ow! What was that for?"

Ignoring their scuffle, Pidge addressed Keith again.

"According to my med droid here," she said, indicating Rover as he hovered behind her shoulder, "it looks like you're healing up pretty well. We administered a Balmeran healing serum as soon as we got you to the ship last night, and it seems to be doing the trick.”

She nodded towards his bandaged waist. “We can probably remove those in a minute. From what I can tell, the wound has closed. It might still scar a little, though.

“So, you’re recovering faster than I expected, which is the good news. However, there may be some side-effects. For example, Lance mentioned that you were having some memory problems. Is that true?”

Keith's gaze dragged over to Lance at the mention of his name. A questioning expression entered his eyes, almost as if he expected Lance to answer for him.

"Yes," he said after a moment, although there was a hint of hesitation in the single word. "I keep trying to remember what happened and how I got here and everything, but it's just ... missing. I can't remember."

"Hmm," Pidge murmured, tapping at her chin. She lowered herself onto the stool next to the bed. "Well, it's relatively normal to have temporary amnesia surrounding an accident, since our brains tend to block out traumatic experiences. What's the last thing you remember?"

Keith shook his head. "That's the thing. I can't ... I can't remember anything at all."

One of his hands fluttered absently to brush against his talisman, the same way Lance had seen him grasp at it the night before––like it was some habitual source of comfort. Again, Lance resisted the urge to reach for his own amulet, hidden snugly under his collar.

Pidge's mouth pursed in a tight line, like she was trying not to betray how worried she was.

"Okay," she said, rubbing her hands on her knees. "Well ... amnesia can manifest in a lot of different ways. Sometimes, it causes you to forget more than just the incident surrounding the trauma. From what I can tell, you haven't suffered any permanent brain damage, so it's not that. So ..."

This whole time she'd been speaking in a level tone, but all of a sudden she sounded uncertain. From across the room, Lance could see the barely-contained panic in her eyes, and he thought maybe he understood. She was the closest thing they had to an expert in this situation, and they were all depending on her to have the answers, but she didn't know what to do.

"So then, what is it?" Keith asked her. "When am I going to get my memories back?"

He didn't sound demanding or angry––more scared than anything, really.

Pidge didn’t say anything, just looked to Lance and Hunk helplessly like she expected one of them to deliver the bad news, but they both just stared back at her in confusion.

“Oh, no,” Keith breathed out. “Are you saying I’m never …” He couldn’t even complete the sentence.

“No, no. That’s not what I’m saying,” Pidge answered hastily. “I just don’t want to make any promises, especially because I don’t know what the source of the problem is. I’ve never dealt with a situation like this before. And like I said, I’m not even a real medic––”

She had started to ramble, and Rover hovered closer to her shoulder with a concerned trilling noise.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lance took a step forward, holding up his hands in a “calm down” gesture. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Pidge. You’ve done everything you can.”

Now that Lance had caught the attention of everyone in the room, he suddenly felt self-conscious. He was particularly aware of Keith’s gaze flitting towards him, violet eyes flashing from behind wayward strands of white hair.

Lance put his hands on his hips, trying on a more authoritative stance. If everyone was expecting him to be the leader in this situation, he would be.

“Look, I know this is a weird and stressful situation, but I’m sure we can figure something out. If there’s no way to fix Keith’s brain or whatever, maybe we just have to wait it out.”

“So, you mean he stays with us until he remembers who he is?” Hunk asked.

“I guess. What other choice do we have?”

Keith didn’t look so sure. His eyes lowered as he rubbed at his shoulder. “I––I don’t know. I’ve already put you guys through a lot, it sounds like. And I don’t want to be a burden. We don’t even know when I’m gonna get my memories back, if I’m even gonna get them back at all.”

He had a point, but no one else seemed to want to acknowledge the fact that his memory loss could be permanent.

“Dude, you’re not being a burden,” Hunk said at last. “You crash-landed in the middle of a trash planet and almost died. It’s understandable that you need time to recover, and we have plenty of room in the ship.”

Lance crossed his arms and smirked. “Yeah, really. What do you expect us to do, just throw you out onto Rivlax by yourself? You don’t even have a ship, man.”

Keith still looked hesitant, which made Lance’s smile drop. Something felt tight in his chest at the sight of Keith’s expression, which had shifted into a mixture of surprise and gratitude. What kind of horrible things had this guy been through that he expected to be thrown into the middle of nowhere with amnesia and no mode of transportation?

“I guess you’re right,” Keith said, looking away. He glared at the floor as if he was trying to think of something else to say.

But before he could speak again, Hunk suddenly grabbed Lance by the arm. “Whoa, wait a second. I just thought of something.”

Lance turned to him with an inquisitive frown. “Yeah? What is it?”

“The ship.”

Hunk’s eyes were wide as he stared back at Lance, like he expected his friend to draw some elaborate conclusion from those two words.

“Uh …” Lance looked hesitantly around the room.

“No, no. Not this ship. Keith’s ship. I was just thinking … it must have some kind of communications log installed in it, right? Some way to send out messages?”

He whirled toward Keith as he spoke, and Keith sat up rigidly at the sudden attention.

“I don’t know.” A furrow formed between Keith’s eyebrows again like he was concentrating very hard on something. “I think it might, though. I feel like … I can remember trying to send someone a message …” He had a distant look in his eyes and then seemed to snap back to reality. “Agh,” he groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself,” Pidge cautioned him, stepping down from the stool she’d been sitting on. Then she turned towards Hunk. “I think I might know where you’re going with this, Hunk. If there’s some kind of communications log in the ship, and Keith tried to call for help––”

“Then there might be some record of the message he sent out,” Hunk finished the thought for her. “Like a recording or a code or something. At the very least, we might get the name of the person he was trying to contact.”

“Not to be a downer, but isn’t that kind of a long shot?” said Lance, raising an eyebrow. “The ship was in pretty bad shape. We don’t know if it’s still intact at this point. Even if it is, what are the odds that there’s any kind of accessible message log?”

Keith glared at him. “Well, do you have a better suggestion? ‘Cause personally, I’d really like to get my memories back, or at least find some hint of where I come from.”

That choice of words struck a nerve with Lance, and he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“It might be our only shot,” said Pidge. “Worst case scenario is that the ship has burst into flames by now. But if we’re lucky and the ship hasn’t exploded, we might be able to find a clue.”

She had started to pace at the foot of the bed, with Rover zipping back and forth behind her.

“What about your droid? Maybe he could help us out,” Hunk suggested. “I know he’s a med droid, but does he have any kind of function that could help us copy the message if we find one? Like, maybe he could extract the audio or clone the code or something?”

As he spoke, Hunk leaned closer to examine Rover like he expected such functions to be outwardly visible. Rover reeled back a little at the sudden attention.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve never tried anything like that,” Pidge admitted, frowning as she tapped her chin in thought. “But if you give me a varga or so, I might be able to mess with his coding to give him a new function like that.”

Rover let out a rapid string of offended beeps, and Pidge chuckled.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m only gonna change a couple little things. You won’t even notice, I promise.”

The droid seemed assuaged by the words, chirping happily when Pidge reached up to pat him.

“So, I guess that’s settled,” Lance said with a shrug. “We’ll go check out the ship and see if we can find anything.”

“I guess so,” Pidge agreed. “But as I said, I’m gonna need a little while to make those modifications on Rover. In the meantime, maybe one of you guys can get Keith some food and water.”

“I’m on it,” Hunk said, already turning on his heel to leave the room.

“And Lance … uh, I don’t know. Just stay here and keep an eye on Keith, I guess.”

Lance tensed at that. “What?”

He must have sounded more offended than he’d intended, because Keith immediately glared at him. “What’s wrong? You got somewhere to be?” he deadpanned.

“No, I’m just … can’t Keith watch himself?”

Pidge let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, do whatever you want. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

With that, she left the med bay with Rover trailing after her, leaving Keith and Lance by themselves.

—

[DAIBAZAAL, Galaxy XV-395, Sector 1]

Emperor Zarkon surveyed the view outside the palace windows as he paced the length of the throne room. Beyond the large panes of glass, dark mountains rolled across the landscape under the stark glow of the violet moon.

The emperor’s cape slid smoothly over the marble floor with each slow step. In his clawed hand, he loosely grasped at the small metallic device Commander Prorok had handed to him not long before.

Zarkon didn’t turn around when he heard the hiss of the doors opening behind him, or even when he heard the witch Haggar’s rasping voice address him.

“Sire, I was sent word that you wished for Takashi Shirogane to be brought forth.”

Still glaring at the dark sky, Zarkon sneered at the name. “Yes, and my patience is wearing thin. I sent the command over half a varga ago. Dare you question my authority?”

Haggar’s response came a few moments later, her words steady but tinged with hesitation.

“No, sire. He is right outside the doors. I only wished to warn you, he has withstood our questioning for days and has not broken yet. But I believe his confession is imminent.”

At that, Zarkon couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. His fingers tightened around the device in his hand. “It most certainly is.”

He finally turned around to look down the steps, where Haggar stood with her head bowed and her hands folded into the sleeves of her robes.  

“Bring him in at once,” the emperor commanded. “I have received some information that may interest him.”

At that, Haggar looked up in brief confusion, her yellow eyes narrowed. But then she dipped her chin down once again. “As you wish, sire.”

She turned to exit the throne room, her long robes billowing in her wake. The witch only disappeared from sight for several moments before she returned, her expression even more hardened than it had been upon first entering.

Two druids drifted after her, masks obscuring their faces and dark robes skimming the floor. A pair of Galra soldiers marched in behind them, their footfalls much louder in comparison. Between them, with each arm wrapped tight in the soldiers’ grip, was Takashi Shirogane.

Although he was tall and strongly-built for a human, Shirogane appeared much smaller beside his Galran captors. The emperor almost didn’t recognize him, since he had been stripped of his usual imperial armor and now wore the ragged clothes of a prisoner.

The guards threw Shirogane down at the foot of the steps leading up to the throne. He grunted as he hit the floor and then slowly raised himself to his knees––although he kept his head lowered, refusing to look Zarkon in the eyes. Behind him, the guards stood still with their weapons trained, prepared to fire at any unexpected movement.

Zarkon eased himself down onto the throne, a slow smile stretching across his skeletal face.

“Captain Shirogane,” he drawled. “Or, what was it the Koganes always so fondly called you? Shiro?”

The mention of the Koganes along with the childhood nickname caused exactly the response Zarkon had expected. Shiro’s shoulders immediately stiffened, and he raised his head.

The man looked like he had suffered an entire war since the last time Zarkon had seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, and now a deep scar ran across the bridge of his nose. Dark stubble dotted his chin. But most noticeable was the portion of his hair that had turned white––no doubt from the massive amounts of quintessence Haggar and her druids had shocked into him during their long sessions of questioning.

Shiro said nothing for several long moments, his ragged breathing loud in the stillness.

“Why did you bring me here, Commander?” he questioned at last through gritted teeth. He probably had meant it to sound demanding, but his voice came out hoarse––probably from endless vargas of yelling in pain, pleading for the torture to cease.

“You would do best to address me as Emperor, now,” Zarkon said with a sneer.

Shiro huffed out a noise that was almost a laugh. “As long as I live, I will never call you Emperor. You’re no emperor of mine.”

The guards and druids surrounding him stiffened at once, the druids with their long fingers crackling with energy, the guards hefting their weapons higher, all of them looking to Zarkon to give the command. But he merely waved them off.

“Very well. It matters little, considering you won’t live much longer, anyway.” He rose from the throne again, standing to his full height. “And I suppose we’re even in that sense, since I refuse to call you Captain any longer. Traitorous scum.”

At the accusation, Shiro’s dark eyebrows furrowed together, the muscles in his neck visibly tensing.

“You’re the traitor,” he shot back. “The king and queen trusted you.”

“They trusted you, too. A pity it couldn’t save their lives.”

With those words, Zarkon knew he’d delivered an agonizing blow. He could see the immediate guilt written across Shiro’s face, the glassy look in his eyes, the way all the tension fell from his shoulders. He rocked back on his heels as if he’d been physically pushed.

Zarkon chuckled at his silence. “Nothing to say for yourself, Shirogane? Shameful. They put their lives in your hands, and you couldn’t protect them.”

The emperor watched Shiro’s face carefully, how he kept his mouth shut but a muscle in his jaw twitched. He was refusing to speak, to show any sign of weakness, to say anything at the risk of revealing what he knew. Perhaps he was more intelligent than Zarkon had given him credit for.

“I suppose it’s their own fault for hiring a weak human guard such as yourself. The queen certainly had a fondness for humans.” Zarkon scoffed. “Filthy. Marrying a human king. Tainting the royal bloodline with their halfling son.”

He knew he was treading closer to the true subject at hand, and he enjoyed watching the way Shiro’s eyes darkened at the mention of the prince.

“You’re quite close with young Akira, aren’t you?” the emperor continued, turning over the metal device in his hands.

Although he was clearly trying to maintain his composure, Shiro suddenly went tense, his reddened eyes widening just enough to betray his fear. He didn’t have to answer, because Zarkon already knew. He had worked closely with the royal family and knew that Shiro had been like an older brother to the prince for many years, ever since he’d entered the royal guard as a teenager.

“You helped him escape,” Zarkon said. It was a statement rather than a question.

Shiro didn’t answer, but his gaze dropped to the floor. The druids flanking him began to summon their magic again, and Shiro winced instinctively at the electric crackling.

Although he couldn’t see their expressions behind the masks, Zarkon noticed the way the druids tilted their heads in confusion when he still gave no command. Even Haggar was glaring at him in bewilderment, and the two soldiers shifted uneasily.

Shiro appeared to brace himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again.

“Perhaps I did,” he said tightly. “What difference does it make? He’s far away by now, and you’re never going to find him.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

Again, the druids inched forward with their hands glowing.

“Torture me all you want. I don’t know where he is––and even if I did, I’d never tell you.”

Zarkon’s fingers unfurled from around the spherical device in his hand. “How heroic of you. But that won’t be necessary. Perhaps the prince will divulge his location himself.”

As he spoke, he casually tapped the button at the center of the device to play the recording it contained.

At first, nothing but the hiss of static came through, and Shiro frowned in confusion. But then, through the faint crackling, a rasping voice became audible.

“Shiro? … Shiro, do you read me?”

It seemed to take a moment before Shiro understood what he was hearing, and then the change in his expression was immediate––the walls breaking down, revealing a pained and wild panic. He tried to leap to his feet, as if he intended to lunge towards the throne and snatch the device from the emperor’s hands. But the soldiers on either side of him moved quickly, grabbing him by the arms again.

Zarkon didn’t even blink, only continuing to sit there with the recording device in his palm. The message continued, although it was broken up by hiccups of static.

“I don’t have a lot of time, but I … some planet called Rivlax in Sector 4188. Sending you my coordinates now.”

A small green hologram emerged from the small sphere, displaying a map with a flashing light to mark the location.

Shiro inhaled sharply. He tried to struggle against his captors, but they were much larger than he was, and he was too weakened by fatigue. With a wordless cry, he sagged in defeat.

As the remainder of the message played, hopelessness and grief became apparent in Shiro’s features. He tensed upon hearing the prince’s plea for help, choking out a faint “No” when Akira mentioned he was wounded and that his ship was badly damaged.

“I’ve always thought of you as my brother,” Akira continued, voice growing so weak it was barely audible. “I hope you know that. And I … can’t lose you, too. … I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

The message cut off abruptly, and even the static succumbed to a deadly silence.

By now, Shiro was no longer even attempting to hide his emotion. If it hadn’t been for the two soldiers holding him up, he probably would have fallen to his knees again. Instead he could only hang between them with his head lowered, shoulders shaking as a heavy sob wracked through him.

“Well, that was certainly touching,” Zarkon mused, closing the device in his fist again. “What a shame that you didn’t hear it soon enough. It appears you’ve failed the boy who called you brother, just as you failed his parents.”

Shiro remained still for a moment before he lifted his head, face streaked with tears but eyes aflame with a murderous rage.

“Monster,” he roared. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

Zarkon remained unamused, signaling to the soldiers. “I believe that’s enough for now. Take this worthless prisoner back where he came from. I will decide on his fate at a later time.”

He stood up from the throne and paced back over to the window. He ignored the insults Shiro hurled at his back, hoarse yells that soon dissolved into anguished cries as he was dragged from the throne room. Soon, the doors slid shut with an audible thud, and it wasn’t long before silence settled in again.

However, even though he didn’t turn around, Zarkon could sense the lone presence lurking at the bottom of the steps.

“My lord,” Haggar said at last when her husband refused to acknowledge her. “Will that be all for the time being?”

The emperor hesitated before he spoke, still gazing out at the stars as if nothing had happened.

“No. There is one matter in which you can assist me.”

He turned ever so slightly, so that he could see the witch only out of the corner of his eye.

“Commander Prorok has been awaiting my orders for several vargas. Tell him to send a ship out to Rivlax.”

“Yes, sire.”

Zarkon could see Haggar take a slight bow before she began to turn around.

“And one more thing,” Zarkon said, stopping her. He looked down at his hand, fingers clutching the recording device so tightly that he nearly snapped it in two.

“Tell him that if the prince still lives, I want him brought back to me alive.”

Chapter Text

The dark memories kept resurfacing, cycling over and over again like a recurring nightmare.

Blood on his hands. (His own? Someone else’s?) Two bodies on the floor. A voice telling him to run.

Hours spent in some dark, enclosed space, hardly daring to breathe.

Running. A narrow corridor. A red-hot pain lacing through his torso, ripping a cry of agony from his lungs.

A blurry set of controls in front of him. Lasers firing. Lights flashing.

Everything before and after was just a void of darkness, no matter how hard he tried to remember. He couldn’t frame the events in any context, couldn’t put them in a logical order, couldn’t match names to hazy faces.

Even his own name escaped him, which was particularly alarming. He kept feeling like it was right within his grasp, but his mind seemed to reject it like a poison every time he mentally reached for it. It was almost like he didn’t want to remember it at all, didn’t want to be associated with it for some reason.

Besides, he was already growing attached to his new name––the one Lance had given to him. Keith. He knew it wasn’t the name he’d been born with, but somehow it felt fitting. In any case, it would have to do for now.

“Hey, man. You okay?” Lance’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

Keith had been busy toying with the metal cuff around his wrist, which he’d determined was hooked up to the monitor hovering in the air next to the bed. A little blue light pulsed at the center of the bracelet, synced up with his heart rate.

He looked up, startled, to find Lance standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised in inquiry. For the past few minutes, he’d been awkwardly wandering in and out of the med bay, but hadn’t said much to Keith at all.

“I … yeah,” Keith said when he managed to find his voice. “Why?”

Lance shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “I don’t know, you looked worried. And it sounded like your heart was going kinda fast.” He nodded towards the monitor. “Do you want me to get Pidge?”

Until then, Keith hadn’t been paying much attention to the blipping sound coming from the monitor. Now that Lance had pointed it out, though, he realized how rapid it had gotten. He breathed deeply as he tried to steady his heartbeat.

“No, it’s okay. I was just … thinking. Remembering things.”

“You remembered something?” Lance said, stiffening.

Keith quickly looked away, feeling the oncoming sense of dread as the same sequence of disturbing images flashed through his mind.

“Just pieces of things. I still don’t know what happened, just that it was … bad.”

“Hmm. Well, I’d think something that led to you getting shot and crashing a fighter jet into a trash planet wouldn’t exactly be good.”

Keith glared at him, and Lance put his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“What? I’m just saying,” he said defensively, lowering his hands to his hips. “Anyway, like Pidge told you, it’s probably not great for you to be trying to remember that stuff right now. You almost died yesterday. So, you know, maybe try to take it easy.”

Keith almost started to argue, but he detected a hint of actual concern under Lance’s tone of forced nonchalance. It occurred to him then that he’d been a bit selfish. In his own turmoil of worry, he hadn’t stopped to think about how much he’d put Lance and the others through.

Of course, he couldn’t remember anything about the actual crash; it was just a blank void in his memory. One moment he’d been steering the failing ship, and the next he’d woken up to find Lance standing over him.

But judging by the way everyone had cautiously skirted around describing exactly what condition they’d found him in, as well as the fierce ache in his whole body and the bandages wrapped around his waist, Keith figured it had been pretty serious.

“Guess you’re right,” he managed to say at last. He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly aware of how grimy his skin felt. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lance repeated. “For what?”

“Just … I don’t know. For putting you guys through all this.”

Lance fell oddly silent at that. He ambled over to the bedside, leaning against the wall. When Keith looked up, he saw that Lance was still frowning, but there was a trace of something pained underneath it, almost like … sadness? Pity?

“Man, you’ve gotta stop apologizing. It’s not like any of this is your fault. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Keith said automatically, although he was still struggling to shake away the sense of guilt. “It’s just, you guys probably have things to do and places to be or whatever. You don’t have to stay here because of me.”

Lance crossed his arms again. “Hey, it’s like I said before. There’s no way we’re just kicking you out into the wilderness with no ship or anything. Not to mention, you can’t even remember who you are, so that’s kind of a problem.

“And we don’t know if someone is on their way here to find you, so leaving is probably a bad idea. Maybe if Pidge and Hunk figure out how to download the message log from your ship we’ll figure that out, at least.”

“Maybe,” said Keith, but he felt doubtful. That, and he had an unpleasant, nagging feeling at the mention of someone coming to find him—a sudden dread like there was someone he really didn’t want to find him, and it made him feel slightly dizzy and nauseated.

“Besides,” Lance continued, “we don’t really have anywhere to be. Well … I mean, Hunk and I were supposed to pick up a shipment and do some trading and stuff on Xannova in a few days, but it can probably wait. Oh, and we have to drop Pidge off in the Galjor cluster somewhere ‘cause she’s supposed to go meet her brother, but she can probably put that off for a couple days, too. I don’t know how urgent it is that she gets there. She hasn’t said much about it.”

He seemed to kind of wander off into his own thoughts as he spoke, looking up at the ceiling and tapping a finger against his elbow. Keith just blinked at him in bewilderment.

“Anyway, like I said, it’s not a big deal,” said Lance. “We’ll figure something out. But until you get your memories back and your wounds heal and stuff, you should try not to worry so much.”

Keith knew Lance was trying to be comforting, and he appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn’t exactly stop worrying. He still didn’t know if his amnesia was permanent or temporary, and in the case of the latter, he was almost more frightened of remembering whatever he had forgotten. At the moment, though, he was too tired to argue.

Besides, right then their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Hunk appeared in the doorway a second later, holding a bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Hey, Keith,” he said with a friendly smile. Keith was a little surprised by how Hunk greeted him with such familiarity, like they’d known each other for years and not for less than twenty-four hours. “Made you some soup and brought you some water.”

Keith accepted the offerings, managing a weak smile in return. “Thanks.” He hadn’t realized until then just how hungry and thirsty he was; his mouth was totally dry and his stomach growled at the sight of the food.

He gulped down the water and then started to eat the soup. He didn’t know exactly what was in it, just that it consisted of some kind of soft root vegetable with a mild flavor, which was balanced out by the savoury brown broth. It felt soothing on his parched throat and settled warmly in his stomach. Maybe it was because he probably hadn’t eaten in days, but right now he felt like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Hunk watched him with an almost anxious look, tapping his two index fingers together. “Hopefully it tastes okay? I tried to make something that’d be kinda easy on the stomach. The vegetables are this thing called Crygroot. It’s supposed to be really good for your immune system or something.”

At this point, Keith had practically eaten it all already. “Thanks, man. This is amazing.”

Hunk’s face brightened into another smile. “Yeah?”

Lance scoffed. “Please, Hunk. It’s not like you’ve ever cooked anything bad.”

“That’s not true, Lance. But I appreciate it,” Hunk said, and turned his attention back towards Keith. “I’m glad you like it. There’s more in the kitchen if you’re still hungry.”

Keith didn’t have time to answer, because right then Pidge barged into the room, holding a glowing tablet in one hand. Rover zipped into the room after her, beeping excitedly.

“Okay, guys. I think I figured it out,” Pidge said, sounding a little out of breath. She tapped madly at the tablet as she spoke. “Just downloaded a few modifications to Rover, and I think it should work. We just need to get out to Keith’s ship to clone the message log if we can find one.”

Lance pushed himself away from the wall, grinning. “Whoa. Nice job, Pidge. That was fast.”

She shrugged one shoulder modestly. "Wasn't too complicated. And anyway, I'm not entirely sure it will work. Even if it does, the message log itself might be too damaged."

"Well, guess there's only one way to find out," said Lance.

Pidge nodded. "We've gotta get to the ship right away. Hey, Hunk? You said you're an engineer, right? I could probably use your help finding where the message log is located and making sure we don't mess it up."

"Oh ... yeah, sure. I think I can help with that."

"Okay, good. So, the two of us can head out to the ship."

"Whoa, whoa. Wait," Lance interrupted their exchange. "You guys are going out there by yourselves? Are you telling me I have to just stay here and babysit Keith again?"

Keith scowled and crossed his arms, about to make a snarky comeback, but Pidge spoke before he could say anything.

"I mean, someone has to be here to keep an eye on Keith. He's still recovering, and I don't want to risk leaving him here by himself." She looked Keith over, frowning. "That reminds me, I should probably take those bandages off to check to see if your wound has healed up yet. Once I'm done with that, Hunk and I can go try to retrieve that message log. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Hunk.

Lance huffed and crossed his arms. “I guess,” he muttered, but everyone just seemed to ignore him.

Pidge procured a pair of scissors from a nearby drawer and approached Keith. “Okay, you might have to lift your arms up a little.”

Keith obeyed, and Pidge started to cut away the bandages and unwind them from around his middle. Rover hovered next to her shoulder as she worked, making strange whirring noises. Out of nowhere, a flat beam shot out of him and skimmed over Keith.

“Ah!” Keith cried out, squeezing his eyes shut at the unexpected flash. “What was that?”

“Oh, he’s just scanning you,” Pidge explained, still unwrapping the bandages.

She winced as she got to the lower layers, which were stained through with blood. Keith looked down as the last of the wrappings fell away and felt slightly dizzy at what he saw––not only because of the smears of blood on his torso but also because of how thin he looked, his skin clinging to his ribs like he hadn’t properly eaten in weeks. The actual wound, though, was surprisingly almost invisible except for a small red mark where he’d been shot.

“Whoa,” Lance commented from where he stood behind Pidge. “That healing serum really did the trick. Good thing you found that stuff, Pidge.”

“Yeah, we were lucky.” She squinted at the hologram Rover had projected into the air next to the bedside. “Good news is, it’s repaired all the internal damage. Less good news is, you’re still probably gonna need a couple days to recover. Your body’s been through a lot, and you’re pretty malnourished and dehydrated.”

Keith didn’t have trouble believing that. Although the pain throughout his body wasn’t as bad as it had been the night before, he still felt disoriented and had a deep ache in his bones.

“Hunk and I should probably head out now,” Pidge went on, bunching up the discarded bandages in her hands. “Hopefully we’ll be back within a varga or so. You should be fine, but I have Rover synced up to your heart monitor just in case.” She nodded towards the cuff on Keith’s wrist. “The ship is really close, so we can come running back if there’s an emergency.”

“I’ll take one of our communication devices so you can reach us if you need to,” Hunk added. “Just make sure you turn yours on, Lance.”

“Okay, okay, I will,” Lance said, sounding slightly impatient.

“If you feel up to it, you might want to shower all that blood off,” Pidge instructed Keith. “Also, Lance, you might want to find him some clean clothes.” She glanced between the two of them. “You guys are about the same size, right?”

Lance scratched his chin, looking Keith up and down. “Well, I think I have a slightly more muscular physique––”

Keith rolled his eyes, his face growing oddly warm.

“––But I can probably find something.”

"Also, make sure he drinks plenty of water," Pidge added.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Okay, Hunk. We should probably get going."

Pidge and Hunk left the med bay, already starting to discuss plans on their way out. Lance glanced at Keith one more time and then trailed out into the hallway after the others, giving no explanation for his departure.

Left alone for the time being, Keith wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his shoulder. Maybe it was the sudden absence of the bandages that had been covering his torso, but he suddenly felt very cold. He looked down again, curiously running his fingers over the area where he'd been injured, tracing the edges of the scar.

"You sure you should be poking at that?" Lance said from the doorway.

Keith looked up, startled, and frowned as he let his hand drop. "I wasn't poking at it, I was just––" he started to say, but stopped when he couldn't think of an explanation.

Looking thoroughly unconvinced, Lance shrugged one shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, twirling a device in one hand that kind of looked like a walkie-talkie––probably one of the communication devices he'd been talking about with Hunk. After a few seconds of fiddling with it, Lance crammed the device into his jacket pocket.

Just then, there was a loud rumbling somewhere down in the floor of the ship, and then a long creaking and grinding noise.

Keith tensed. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," Lance said. He hadn't even blinked at the sound. "It was just Blue's gangway lowering for Hunk and Pidge."

"Blue?"

"That's the name of the ship." As if to illustrate, Lance patted the wall next to him.

In response, the ship rattled and creaked a few more times––the gangway folding up again, Keith assumed. Then there was a resounding silence.

Lance cleared his throat. “So, did you want to shower and change your clothes and all that? Or …”

“Yeah, uh. That’d be great,” Keith answered. Again, he became aware of how itchy and unclean his skin felt, coated in dried blood and sweat. He probably didn’t smell great, either. Plus, as exhausted as he was, he was starting to feel restless from being confined to the narrow bed.

“Okay. Well, if you want to come with me, we can go find you some clothing and then I’ll show you where the shower is.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Keith rubbed his eyes and took off the blanket that had been covering his legs. He hadn’t realized until then that he was still wearing his flight suit, which had been unzipped to his waist. Carefully, he started to put his arms back into the sleeves so that it wouldn’t fall to his ankles when he stood up.

As he started to zip the suit up, he suddenly became aware of how closely Lance was watching him, his eyes trailing towards Keith’s chest. Keith felt the tips of his ears grow warm before he realized that Lance was just staring at the talisman hanging around his neck.

Without thinking, he closed a fist around the amulet. He’d been pretty out of it when he’d woken up in the middle of the night, but it was coming back to him in pieces, and now he remembered that Lance had been very curious about the talisman then, too. In fact, maybe he was remembering it wrong, but he could’ve sworn that Lance had been trying to steal it just as Keith woke up.

Suddenly defensive, Keith scowled. “What are you looking at?”

Lance stiffened, looking away. “What? Nothing,” he blurted. “I was looking at … nothing.”

Keith hesitated a moment longer, fingers loosening a little around the talisman. He’d been telling the truth when he’d told Lance he didn’t remember what it was for, but he knew it was important to him. It was supposed to be a reminder of … something. Whatever it was, he had a feeling he’d worn it since he was very young––and even though he couldn’t recall why he had it, it still felt inexplicably calming to have it with him.

Setting aside the thought for now, he swung his legs over the bedside and started to stand up.

He immediately regretted it, though, as his vision clouded and he felt like the floor was heaving underneath him. He probably would’ve toppled over entirely, except for that somehow Lance made it across the room in about half a second and caught him by the arm.

“Whoa, dude. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith managed to answer, blinking a few times as his vision cleared again. “Think I just stood up too fast.”

He hadn’t noticed until then that he’d instinctively reached out to grab Lance’s shoulder to steady himself, and he suddenly became aware of how solid Lance’s arm felt under the leather of his jacket, how close they were standing, how Lance smelled … nice, like some kind of shampoo or something. It only made Keith more aware that he probably smelled like the huge pile of garbage he’d crashed his ship into.

“Yeah, uh, you should––you should be careful,” Lance said after a moment, sounding oddly dazed. His grip on Keith’s arm loosened a little. “Do you need to sit down again?”

“No, I think I’m okay. Thanks.”

Keith’s gaze flicked upward just long enough to see the concerned look Lance was giving him and that his eyes were an unusual color, a dark cobalt blue with flecks of gold in them.

He snatched his hand away from Lance’s shoulder and backed up, dusting his palms off on his flight suit. He could feel a jagged hole in the material on the left side where he’d been shot, and on his right side––

His fingers brushed something solid next to his hip, and Keith frowned. When he looked down, he saw there was a scabbard at his waist that he hadn’t noticed before. A handle stuck out of it, bound tightly with cloth. Curious, he grasped it and pulled out the knife to inspect it.

“Whoa, hey!” Lance exclaimed, reeling back a step with his hands up. “What are you doing?”

It took Keith a second to realize what this probably looked like, and his face burned.

“Oh, I––I wasn’t going to stab you,” he stammered, which sounded exactly like what someone who was going to stab you would say. Damn it. “I just … I hadn’t noticed this before.”

Lance looked from Keith’s face to the knife and back again, his shoulders dropping a bit when he seemed convinced the other boy didn’t intend to kill him.

“Alright, well … next time warn a guy before you pull a knife on him. Jeez.”

Keith had intended to apologize, but something about the sight of the dagger distracted him. He kept staring at it, turning it over from one side to the other. It had a wide, flat blade that was so smooth he could see his reflection in it. There were no stains along its edge, but there were a few dark splotches on the cloth wrapped around its handle. Something in Keith’s gut turned at the sight.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked when Keith had been silent for a few long moments. “You look kinda freaked out. Did you remember something?”

Keith hesitated and then shook his head, sheathing the blade again.

“No, it’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Although Lance raised an eyebrow skeptically, he didn’t ask any further questions.

“Okay. This way.”

He led Keith out of the med bay and into the hallway. It was the first time Keith had set foot into the rest of the ship, and he looked around in curiosity. There wasn’t much to see, though, except a white corridor lined with closed metal doorways. Further down the hall, he could see a large panel in the floor that probably unfolded to let out the gangway, and an open doorway through which he could see the blinking dashboard of the cockpit.

Lance stopped next to a door to their left, pressing a hand against a button on the wall. The door slid open with a rumbling sound of turning gears. Without waiting for Keith, Lance ducked inside.

Hesitantly, Keith wandered to the doorway and just stood there. In front of him was a small room that was presumably Lance’s, and it looked very … lived-in, but in a way that was charming rather than repulsive.

The bed was pushed into the far corner, with a pillow and a rumpled blue blanket lying on it. Jackets of various colors hung from the bedposts, and there were many pairs of shoes lined up on the floor at the foot of it––boots, mostly, from what Keith could see. A large trunk and several crates and boxes were shoved under the bed, partially obscured in the shadows. A simple gray dresser stood to the right, nailed to the wall. Some of its drawers were already open, with articles of clothing dangling out of them. The walls were almost completely covered in an eclectic collection of old movie posters, art pieces, and tapestries that looked like they had come from a hundred different planets.

Lance had already made his way to one corner of the room, where he pulled open a sliding door that revealed a narrow closet lined with even more clothing. “Hmm,” he murmured as he sifted through the hanging shirts and jackets, glancing from Keith to the array in front of him. Then he went over to the dresser and started going through the drawers, tossing a few things onto the bed.

“Hunk always tells me I have too much clothing,” he said as he pushed one drawer shut. “But hey, you never know when some random guy is gonna crash his ship into a trash heap and need to borrow some clothes from you.”

That was probably supposed to be a joke of some kind, but Keith didn’t respond.

“Anyway …” Lance tossed a bundle of clothing at him and Keith only barely managed to catch it. “Those should probably do for now.”

Keith inspected the items, finding them to be a black T-shirt and some gray jeans that looked a little worn in the knees.

“I get the vibe you’re a man of simple taste,” Lance said, looking Keith up and down. “I could get you a shirt with some loud, colorful pattern on it, but––”

“No,” Keith said quickly. “This is fine.”

“Okay, great. Well, the bathroom is right across the hallway. You just have to turn the handle under the shower head to turn it on––you gotta twist it a little hard ‘cause it’s kinda old and rusty. I have like twenty different kinds of shampoo and soap in there, so take your pick. Oh, and there’s towels in the cabinet next to the sink.”

Keith just nodded, pretending he had absorbed all that information. “Thanks.” Now Lance was just staring at him expectantly, so Keith figured that was his cue to leave. “Uh … okay. I’ll be back in a minute, I guess.”

He backed out of the room and wandered across the hall to the bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him. The bathroom was a bit small and cramped, and a messy array of bottles of soap, shampoo, lotions, and creams crowded around the edge of the sink and the perimeter of the shower, but the cleanliness of the room was the last thing on Keith’s mind right now. All he could think about was washing all the grime and blood off his body.

After finding a towel in the cabinet, he discarded his tattered flight suit and stepped into the shower. Lance had been right about the handle; it stuck a little when Keith tugged at it, but with some persistence it finally budged and water came streaming out of the shower head.

The water didn’t seem to get much hotter than lukewarm, but Keith at least managed to get it to a bearable temperature. He’d noticed his hands were shaking, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from exhaustion or maybe a bit of both. With a sigh, he started to scrub at his face, feeling like he was rinsing away layers of dirt.

He still felt like he was dreaming, but he managed to think clearly enough to grab some soap and try to wash all the blood off his body. In a daze, he watched the rust-colored water pool around his feet and swirl down the drain, and something about the sight hit him with a sudden memory like a blow to the head.

He was somewhere dark, crouching on a marble floor. Blood on the tiles. Blood on his hands. Someone gripped his shoulders, speaking to him in a rushed panic.

“… Need to get you out of here. Or they’ll find you, too.”

His own voice, gasping and choking on sobs. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Listen to me. There’s nothing we can do for them now. But we can still get you to safety. Do you trust me?”

Keith was jarred from the memory like he’d been physically pushed out of it. He found himself standing in the shower, one hand braced against the wall and the other clutched around his talisman––he hadn’t even thought to remove it. Come to think of it, he hadn’t taken off the metal cuff around his wrist, either, so hopefully it was water resistant. The blue light at its center was blinking rapidly in time to his heartbeat, so he took that as a sign that it wasn’t broken.

He had no idea how long he’d been standing there, sucked into the memory. It had felt like an instant, and yet he suspected it had been a lot longer than that. Keith tried to steady his breathing, tilting his face up into the flow of water, hoping that the sensation would somehow ground him in reality again.

By the time he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, he was still shaking. As he quickly toweled off and pulled on his new change of clothes, he ran the new memory through his head over and over.

Each time, he tried to picture it with greater clarity, but it was as if he was running into a wall. No matter how he fought to remember what had happened, it slipped out of his grasp again.

He paused by the mirror, as if somehow his reflection would act as a reminder. But the face staring back at him from the murky glass only displayed exhaustion and bewilderment––violet eyes underlined with shadows, prominent cheekbones under pale skin, framed by the damp white hair that clung to his forehead and sides of his face.

Frowning, he leaned forward to inspect a small scar by his jawline. Had that always been there? From its faded appearance, he had probably gotten it years ago, although it bothered him that he couldn’t remember where it had come from. But, hell, he couldn’t even remember what his own name was.

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he reeled back from the mirror.

“Keith?” Lance’s muffled voice said from outside. “You okay in there?”

His pulse had spiked at the sudden noise, and Keith grabbed at the cuff around his wrist like that would slow it down.

“I––yeah, I’m fine.”

Taking one more deep breath, he opened the door. Lance stood outside, one hand still raised like he’d intended to knock again, but his fist dropped to his side as soon as he saw Keith standing there.

“Oh.” Lance’s shoulders stiffened as he looked Keith up and down, blinked, and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure, since it’d kinda been a while. I got worried you’d passed out in the shower or something. Also Pidge called through Hunk’s comm ‘cause Rover had alerted her your heart rate was going up again.”

He waved his own comm device to illustrate, and tilted his head as he looked at Keith again. “You sure you’re okay? You look kinda … spooked.”

Keith’s immediate instinct was to answer that he was fine, but something about the genuine concern in Lance’s voice stopped him. He hesitated, gripping the edge of the sink with one hand and drumming his fingers against it.

“I think I remembered something.”

It seemed to take a moment before Lance processed what Keith had said, and then his eyes widened. “You did? What was it?”

The dark flashes of memory surfaced in Keith’s mind again, and he let out a shuddering breath.

“It’s not good.”

Lance frowned, taking a hesitant step back. “What kind of ‘not good’?”

Keith tried to come up with some way to explain it, any words at all to describe what he’d seen and the sense of absolute horror he’d felt. His hand tightened on the edge of the sink as he opened his mouth to speak again and––

A loud bang startled both of them, rattling and echoing through the ship, and they both looked up in surprise. It seemed to have come from above … like something had landed on the roof.

“What was that?” Keith asked. “Hunk and Pidge didn’t get back already, did they?”

“I doubt it,” Lance said, still frowning at the ceiling. “And why would they be on the––”

Before he could finish the question, Blue’s alarms started blaring.

––

Lance cursed and clapped his hands over his ears as red light and the high-pitched wail of the alarm filled the corridor.

“What’s going on?” Keith demanded.

“I don’t know!” Lance shouted over the noise. When he turned around, he saw that Keith already had his knife in hand––he must have grabbed it from his ruined flight suit, which lay crumpled on the floor. “Maybe some kinda ship malfunction? I better go check.”

He raced towards the cockpit, and he could hear Keith’s footsteps thundering down the hall after him.

Blue’s cockpit was also in a state of chaos. Her dashboard lit up with frantically blinking lights, and a red hologram hovered over it displaying the word “INTRUDER” in bold letters. Underneath the single word was a diagram of the ship with a highlight on its roof.

“What the … ?” Lance murmured.

The ship rattled violently again, and Lance gripped the back of the piloting chair with a wince.

Keith appeared at Lance’s side a moment later, his eyes widening with horror as he saw the warning message on the hologram.

“Something’s on the roof.”

Lance shot him a withering look. “Yeah. Oddly enough, I’d figured that out.”

“So, what are we waiting for? We’ve gotta get up there!”

Keith started to turn around, but Lance grabbed him by the arm.

“Whoa, whoa. Cool your jets, Keith. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with here. It could be pirates, or, I don’t know, some huge alien monster.”

“Exactly, which is why we need to go up there and stop them before they break into the ship.”

“I––” Lance started to say, and then rubbed his temples and groaned in frustration. “Look, I’ll go up there and see what’s going on.”

To his surprise, Keith looked horrified by the suggestion, his eyebrows rising and then knitting together again in a determined frown.

“You can’t go up there by yourself.”

“Well, I can’t exactly bring you up there with me. If it is something dangerous, you’re in no condition to fight it.”

Keith squared his shoulders as if he’d been challenged. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Now, come on. We’re wasting time.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Lance realized that Keith had a point. The longer they spent fighting, the closer this potential enemy was to breaking into the ship. In fact, he could already hear something clanging and thudding against the metal above them, and the noises were only getting louder. He had to make a decision now before it was too late.

“Fine,” he said. “Follow me.”

He shouldered his way past Keith, his heart already hammering as he marched down the corridor. The bright red warning lights were still flashing erratically and the blare of the alarms made his ears ring, but that was the least of his worries right now.

Lance slammed his hand against a panel on the wall, activating the door to the armory. His eyes quickly skimmed over the array of weapons hanging from the walls and settled on a small blaster, which he unhooked and weighed in his hand. It’d probably do.

He reached for another small laser gun and held it out towards Keith, who was standing right outside the doorway. Keith just stared at it like he’d never seen a gun in his life.

“Here, take it,” Lance said urgently.

Keith continued to frown in bewilderment, and then held up his knife. “I have this.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? What if the people up there have guns?”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith insisted, and he sounded so certain that Lance was sure he wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

After a moment, Lance growled in frustration and put the gun back. “Fine, your funeral,” he grumbled, although honestly the thought of Keith getting hurt––again––made something painful twist in his gut. Maybe there was still time to convince him to stay behind. Or Lance would just have to do a really good job providing cover fire for him; he was pretty confident he could do that, at least.

“You’re definitely gonna need one of these, though,” he said, handing Keith a black wrist strap with a silver button at its center. “It’s a shield. When you press the button it should activate.”

He was almost worried Keith would refuse that, too, but luckily Keith took it with a solemn nod and wrapped it around his wrist. Lance took one for himself as well, already striding out of the armory as he strapped it on.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he walked across the hall to another door and pressed the button to open it. Even in his haze of panic, he still managed to reach for his comm device and spoke into it as he and Keith made their way up the narrow metal stairs that led to the roof hatch.

“Hunk. Pidge. Do you read me?”

Hunk’s response came a moment later. “Yeah. We read you, buddy. We’re kinda in the middle of trying to clone this message log, though. What’s up? We thought we heard a ship go overhead.”

Lance inhaled and let out a shaking sigh as he crouched under the hatch. “I don’t have much time to explain. Just listen to me, okay? Stay where you are. Don’t come back to Blue until I give the all-clear.”

“What? Why?” A note of panic crept into Hunk’s voice. “Lance? What’s going on?”

“Hopefully nothing,” Lance said, and winced as he heard more banging noises from above. “Just … we’ve got some, uh, unexpected visitors. Keith and I will take care of it. But promise me you’ll stay away until I tell you it’s okay. Got it?”

“Wait, what? Lance––”

As much as it pained him, Lance shut off the comm and put the device back in his jacket pocket. He could apologize to Hunk later––well, if there was a “later.” His throat tightened at the thought.

But now wasn’t the time to panic. He had to stay focused, had to breathe. Releasing a shuddering sigh, he reached up to brace one hand against the underside of the hatch. With his other hand, he steadily held the blaster in tense preparation for whatever he was about to face.

Lance hesitated. He listened for any movement, but he heard nothing.

Until suddenly, a robotic voice sounded from right outside.

“We know you’re in there. We have you surrounded. Step outside with your hands up.”

The words sent a spike of panic down Lance’s spine. He froze, one hand still tightening on his gun. In a flash, he remembered what had happened the previous afternoon in the marketplace––how that one alien had been watching him, speaking into a comm.

Oh, quiznak. They’ve found me.

This was bad. Lance had almost hoped it was just pirates or some monstrous alien creatures, but if it was police of some kind … that was probably the worst case scenario.

“Stay here,” he said over his shoulder, trying to keep his voice firm despite his panic. “I’ll deal with this.” Maybe he could talk his way out of this one. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Keith stood a few steps below him, still gripping his knife. He looked like he was about to protest, but Lance didn’t have time to hear it. Bracing himself, he pushed the hatch open.

He was already formulating a plan as he started to lift himself into the open, still keeping his feet on the stairs below. All he had to do was drop his weapon, explain that there was nothing to see here. He was just some random scavenger camped out on Rivlax for the day, no big deal.

But as soon as he saw the scene that awaited him, his calculated excuses evaporated like smoke.

He’d anticipated a few officers standing outside, but instead he was met with the sight of maybe twenty figures all standing in a circle around the hatch. Not only that, but there was a dark purple ship parked behind them right on Blue’s deck, and it didn’t look like any police cruiser Lance had ever seen. It was much more angular, with a glowing symbol on its side that was shaped almost like a spider.

Now that he took a closer look at the figures surrounding him, Lance could see that they didn’t look like police, either. In fact, they appeared to be robotic sentries of some kind, their armor glinting menacingly in the red light of Rivlax’s sun. Glowing insignias gleamed on their chests.

Each of them held a blaster, and all of those blasters were aimed at Lance.

And, well, even though he’d had some run-ins with the law before, Lance knew he wasn’t quite important enough to warrant an arrest this intense.

The robotic voice spoke again in its unsettling monotone. “We have you surrounded,” it repeated, like that was one of the only phrases it knew how to say. “Surrender your weapons.”

Adrenaline coursed through Lance’s veins as he made a split-second decision.

He hefted the blaster and aimed it at the nearest sentry. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, and opened fire.

The blue laser beams from the gun shot out rapidly, taking out two sentries with deadly precision––one through the head and one through the chest. Lance had a sick moment of doubt where he worried he’d been wrong, that he’d just killed two flesh-and-blood people … but when the holes he’d fired into them smoked and sparked, he mentally heaved a sigh of relief. Definitely robots.

Robots that were probably going to kill him now.

Luckily, the sentries were a bit slow to react, and Lance managed to duck down just as the remaining robots began to fire their blasters. He heard the whir of lasers zooming overhead and pinging against the open door of the hatch.

Okay, so maybe firing at these guys had been a bad idea. But there was no turning back now.

Bracing himself, Lance pressed the button on his left wrist, and the holographic shield immediately sprang to life in a flash. Angling the shield to protect himself, he rose up again.

His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the sentries marching rapidly towards him, footsteps thundering against Blue's roof. He aimed the blaster again, taking out another sentry and another, crowing in momentary victory as the pair of metal bodies crumpled unceremoniously. But a moment later he had to duck behind his shield as laser beams pelted against it, the forceful impacts rattling through his arm.

In his focus on the battle, he'd nearly forgotten that Keith had been waiting in the stairwell beneath him. But all of a sudden, under the noise of lasers firing, he heard footsteps echoing on the metal stairs.

His first thought was that Keith was retreating––good––but a moment later, he felt something brush against his shoulder as a figure rushed past him, leaping onto the roof.

Lance paused in his shooting, looking up in astonishment. Keith stood above him, his own shield already activated, and in his other hand ...

At first, Lance couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He only saw a blaze of purple light, and for a moment he thought Keith's hand was glowing. But he quickly realized it was the object in Keith's hand that was glowing––his knife.

Except it wasn't a knife anymore. Right before Lance's eyes, the weapon was shifting and lengthening as the light coursed through it, until it transformed into a curved sword.

Keith didn't even seem to question it, his eyes fixed ahead as he released a furious cry and dashed forward, holding up his shield with one hand and wielding the sword in his other.

"Oh, my God. You idiot," Lance growled, scrambling onto the roof after Keith.

He turned on his heel immediately so he could protect Keith from behind. The sentries were in close range now, so it wasn't hard to shoot down a few more of them within seconds. But it also meant their retaliating laser blasts hit Lance's shield with an even more violent impact, sending him reeling back a few feet.

He spared a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Keith slice a sentry diagonally through its torso. Without wasting a moment, he turned around to hack one of the robot's blasters in half before cutting its head off with an angry yell.

Lance was momentarily dumbfounded, watching as Keith fought like he'd been battling evil robots since the day he was born. He was only brought back to the present by another laser beam ricocheting off the edge of his shield, and he turned back to firing at his advancing opponents.

The roof was already scattered with the remains of sentries, some of them riddled with smoking holes and others dismembered or sliced completely in half. But there were still a handful of robotic soldiers marching towards Lance, their blasters blazing as they fired up again.

Lance backed up, breathing hard, tripping over a discarded blaster and almost falling. He managed to right himself just as he heard the sound of a laser firing.

He dodged it. Barely. But he felt a burning pain lace through his upper right arm, the blast spinning him halfway around. He cried out, nearly losing his balance, before he grit his teeth in determination and whirled back around towards the sentry who had shot at him.

Lance’s aim was off this time, hitting the robot in the shoulder and only slowing it down for a moment. Through the fiery rush of adrenaline, he started to feel the searing pain in his arm and the warmth of blood starting to soak into his sleeve, but he didn’t have time to check on it and see if the beam had only grazed him or worse.

He could feel himself going numb with shock, but he remained lucid enough that he managed to take another shot at the sentry. This time, it burned straight through the robot’s chest and sent it toppling down.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Lance allowed his aching arm to fall to his side. But the relief was only temporary when he heard a cry from behind him.

When he turned around, he saw that one robot had grabbed Keith and was pinning his arms behind his back, trying to haul him towards the ship. There was a flicker of confusion at the back of Lance’s mind: What was the sentry trying to do? Take Keith hostage? But he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Keith, duck!”

Keith looked up with wide eyes just as Lance aimed his blaster. Then, suddenly understanding, he ducked down just in time as Lance fired. The sentry’s head exploded, the glowing insignia on its chest flickering and fading as it dropped to the roof, its arms going slack.

Wrenching himself free of the dying robot’s grasp, Keith took a few stumbling steps forward and wordlessly nodded at Lance in thanks. Lance started to smile back at him, when suddenly he saw a blur of movement in his periphery. He put up his shield, but then realized that the sentry was running towards Keith, who was already preoccupied slicing through the middle of another robot that had come up behind him.

Strangely, instead of pointing its blaster at Keith, the sentry lifted the weapon and wielded it like a club. By the time Lance realized what it was about to do, it was too late.

He started to run, shouting out a warning. Keith turned at the sound, eyes widening when he saw the sentry rushing towards him––just as the robot swung its weapon in a vicious arc. The barrel of the gun hit the side of Keith's head with a sickening crack and he dropped to the ground.

"Keith!" Lance yelled.

Without wasting a moment, he fired three shots at the sentry. His aim was still not the best due to his injured arm, but the third shot found its mark and pierced through the robot's back. The sentry fell to its knees and then face planted on the roof, its mechanical fingers twitching until it ceased to function.

Meanwhile, Keith stirred and started to sit up, one hand clutched to his left temple where he'd been hit. Lance felt a temporary rush of relief, although it was short-lived when he saw the blood trickling from between Keith's fingers. He started to sprint towards Keith to help him up, but just then Keith looked up and stared in horror at something behind Lance. He lurched unsteadily to his feet, raising his sword again.

"Lance, look out!"

Lance barely had time to react before Keith threw his sword. He managed to sidestep out of the way, pivoting in time to see the blade slice neatly through the center of a sentry's chest just as it had been about to fire its blaster. The robot fell onto its back with an echoing thud, bolts of electricity flickering up the length of the sword and then fading.

And then there was silence.

He couldn't comprehend it for a moment, and then Lance slowly realized that there were no more sentries advancing on them. As he turned in a circle, he saw no sign of a threat, just the scattered remains of all the robots he and Keith had just defeated.

Letting out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, Lance deactivated his shield. He twirled his gun in a showy gesture of victory and inserted it into the holster at his hip. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

He turned around to grin at Keith, but his smile fell when he saw that Keith really … did not look good. Although that was probably to be expected from a guy who had almost died a day ago, was probably severely dehydrated, had just fought off like ten evil robots, and had been hit pretty hard over the head.

He stumbled a little as he made his way forward. Even across the small distance, Lance could hear his labored breathing and see the alarmingly pale shade of his skin, not to mention the bright red blood trickling down the side of his face and soaking into his white hair.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lance asked.

Keith didn’t answer. There was a glassy gleam to his eyes as he moved past Lance and over to the fallen sentry that still had the sword protruding from its chest. He grasped at the handle of the weapon and yanked it free. In another flash of violet light, the sword transformed back into its smaller knife form.

“Whoa.” Lance came up behind him, clapping a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “That was amazing, dude. How’d you do that?”

Keith turned slightly to face Lance, but he was still staring at the knife in his hand and swaying on his feet a little. “I––I don’t know,” he answered faintly.

“Did you even know your knife could do that?”

After a moment of hesitation, Keith shook his head. “No.”

“Hmm. Well … still. Sharp work, man. That was really badass.”

“Th … anks,” Keith stuttered out.

And then he promptly keeled over.

Lance reacted as fast as he could, one hand reaching out to grab Keith by the arm, then clumsily throwing his other arm around Keith’s waist to stop his fall as he slumped forward.

“Oh,” Lance said. “Shit. Keith?”

He stumbled as he tried to help the other boy stand up, but Keith had suddenly gone limp and Lance couldn’t hold him up like this, especially when his own injured arm was screaming in pain.

Carefully, trying not to panic, Lance lowered himself to his knees while awkwardly holding Keith against him. Keith still hadn’t moved, his head resting heavily against Lance’s shoulder. Lance tried to maneuver him into a more comfortable position, keeping an arm behind his shoulders to support him as he lowered Keith across his lap. He could see now that Keith’s eyes were closed, and that combined with the blood streaming down the side of his face made Lance suddenly feel sick with worry.

But he had to keep it together, had to do something. He glanced down at the cuff around Keith’s wrist and saw the light on it was blinking. That meant his heart was still beating at least, but he didn’t seem to be waking up.

“Hey,” Lance said. He tried to prop Keith into a sitting position and lifted his other hand to pat the side of Keith’s face, which seemed to have no result at all. “Keith. Come on, buddy. Wake up.”

It was then that he heard a beeping noise from the communicator in his pocket which meant someone was trying to reach him. He cursed and fumbled to reach for the device, trying not to drop Keith onto the deck in the process.

A burst of static erupted from the device as soon as Lance turned it on, and then Hunk’s frantic voice came through.

“Lance? Lance, do you read me?”

“Hey, Hunk. Yeah, I read you,” Lance answered.

A moment of silence, and then Hunk let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. Are you okay? We’re heading back to Blue right now. I know you said not to come back, but––”

“It’s okay. Everything’s safe now––I think,” said Lance, looking around at the metallic remains of robots littering the roof. “And yeah, I’m okay. Uh … Keith just fainted, though.”

“Wait, what?” Hunk said.

At the same time, he heard Pidge say something muffled in the background that he couldn’t hear, and a moment later there was a scuffling noise like someone was taking the communication device from Hunk’s hands.

“Lance, what the hell is going on? Rover keeps sending me alerts that Keith’s heart rate is going off the charts. And did you just say he fainted? What happened?”

“Well …” Lance hesitated. How was he going to explain this one? “I mean, I think he’s okay. Although, he did get hit in the head kinda hard. And he probably wore himself out what with all the sword-fighting evil robots.”

“The what?” Pidge practically screeched.

Lance winced and held the communicator slightly away from himself. “Don’t worry, we got them all. The evil robots, I mean. Oh, also I got shot a little.”

He heard Pidge and Hunk both exclaim in horror, and then Hunk saying in the background, “What do you mean, ‘shot a little’?”

“Calm down, guys. I think it just grazed me.” Lance looked down at his arm, where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood was was starting to show through. “Aw, man. This was one of my favorite jackets.”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” Hunk snapped, and then let out a sigh. “You know what? Never mind. I guess you’ll explain everything when we get back to the ship. We’ll be there in a few ticks.”

Lance was about to answer, when he heard a small groan and felt Keith shift against him. When he looked down in surprise, he saw that Keith’s eyelids had started to flicker open.

“Lance?” Hunk said. “You still there?”

“I––yeah, I’m still here,” Lance stammered. “Sorry, got distracted. I think Keith’s waking up, so I should probably help him. I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

“Okay. We’ll get there as fast as we can. Let us know if anything else happens.”

“Yeah, you got it.”

He put the communicator back in his pocket. He looked down again to find that Keith was staring back up at him, his gaze still a little unfocused.

“Hey, man,” Lance said, shaking him gently. “You with me?”

“Uhh ...” Keith blinked a few more times as some clarity seeped back into his eyes. “Yeah. I’m … What happened?”

“Oh, nothing too exciting. We just fought off a bunch of evil robots, and then you swooned into my arms.”

“Yeah, I remember the robots,” Keith said, his eyebrows furrowing together. “And … what? I did not swoon.”

“Hmm, you’re right. ‘Swoon’ sounds too graceful. You actually just dropped like a ton of bricks. Speaking of which, you’re kinda crushing my arm right now. Do you feel ready to sit up?”

“I … yeah, I think so.”

Keith raised himself slowly while Lance kept a hand on his arm to steady him. As he sat up, Keith winced and raised a hand to his temple.

“Shit, my head …”

Lance winced in sympathy. “Yeah, you got hit pretty hard.”

The other boy didn’t seem to be listening. He gingerly felt at the injury, and his eyes widened when he drew his hand away and saw the blood on his fingers.

He swayed a little, and Lance gripped his arm more firmly.

“Whoa, dude. You okay? Do you feel like you’re gonna pass out again? Man, I told you you weren’t in any condition to be fighting––”

Keith shook him off. “I’m fine,” he said tightly, although there was a sudden grim expression on his face that said otherwise. His eyes fell on his knife, which had dropped to the deck, and he reached for it with caution as if he expected the handle to burn him.

Obviously Keith didn’t want to be lectured right now, so Lance decided––with some reluctance––that he’d have to save it for later. “So …” he said instead. “Your knife can turn into a big glowy sword, huh?”

“Guess so,” Keith said with a shrug. Apparently this new development didn’t faze him much. He turned the knife over in his hand, examining it with a frown.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “And you can sword-fight. Don’t suppose you know where you learned that.”

Keith didn't seem to hear at first; he was too preoccupied looking at the destroyed sentries scattered around them, like he was trying to comprehend that he was the one who had felled them.

"No, I can't remember," he said at last.

"Figures," Lance huffed. This guy had appeared out of nowhere only a day ago and was already trying to show him up with his naturally amazing blade-wielding skills.

Before he could say anything else, though, Keith looked over at him and inhaled sharply.

"Your arm's bleeding."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I noticed," said Lance, clamping a hand over the spot where the laser had grazed him. He tried not to wince as the injury protested in pain. "Anyway, it's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

Keith crawled an inch closer to him, brow suddenly furrowed in concern, and Lance thought that was kind of ironic coming from someone who currently had blood running down one side of his face. But then he couldn't think much at all because Keith had unexpectedly reached out to grasp his wrist and pry his hand away from the wound. Lance let him, too shocked by the unexpected contact to protest.

He glanced down and felt a bit dizzy at the sight of the blood staining almost the whole upper sleeve of his jacket, nearly black against the dark fabric. A thin horizontal line cut through it just underneath his shoulder, where he could see a glimpse of red.

He quickly looked away from it again, his gaze inadvertently shifting to Keith's face, which all of a sudden seemed very close to his. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the blood loss, but he felt strange and dizzy and unable to look away. Something about Keith's expression surprised him––the worried little furrow in his brow, the spark in his violet eyes that seemed to transition from concern to anger as he kept inspecting Lance's arm.

"Those assholes," he muttered.

It caught Lance off-guard, and then he realized Keith wasn't mad at him––he was angry at the sentries that had done this.

"Yeah, well, I've had worse," Lance said, which was a lie––he’d had some minor injuries before, nothing this bad––but he didn’t want Keith to worry. "Anyway, we got 'em all, so that's what they get for messing with us."

Keith looked up, meeting Lance's gaze, and he was actually smiling a little. And––whoa––Lance felt some kind of crazy adrenaline rush out of nowhere that made him feel like his head was spinning. Somehow, though, he managed to smile back.

It only lasted a moment, though, before Lance was pulled back to reality by the nagging pain in his arm. All of sudden, it seemed absurd that they were just sitting here smiling when they were both injured and surrounded by the shattered corpses of a bunch of robots that had tried to kill them.

Probably thinking the same thing, Keith dropped his smile. “Um,” he said. “So …”

“So,” Lance repeated, then cleared his throat. “We should probably get back inside, huh? Hunk and Pidge are gonna be back here any minute.”

“Right,” said Keith. He lifted a hand to his head again and winced.

Lance managed to get to his feet, although he was still a bit shaky from shock and adrenaline. Once he was fully standing up, he offered a hand down to Keith. “Do you think you can stand?”

Keith hesitated for a second and then nodded, grasping Lance’s hand and hauling himself to his feet. As he stood, he looked around them one more time and frowned.

“What do you think they wanted from us?” he murmured.

Lance looked down at the sentry lying on its back a few feet away from him, a gaping black hole in its torso where Keith’s sword had run through it, exposing frayed wires. He stared again at the insignia across its chest plate and a feeling of dread stirred in his stomach.

“No idea,” he said grimly. “But we can worry about it later. Come on.”

He was suddenly itching to get off the roof as quickly as possible. Without even thinking about it, he slung Keith’s arm across his shoulders and started to lead him towards the hatch, which was still hanging wide open. Keith didn’t seem to mind, leaning into Lance’s side as they picked their way across the roof.

Almost as soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, the sound of Blue’s gangway lowering rattled through the ship. The noise was followed closely by two pairs of footsteps thundering up the stairs, before Hunk and Pidge leapt into view at the end of the corridor, with Rover zipping into the air right behind them.

Both of them were wide-eyed with panic and breathing heavily from running. Pidge grabbed at a stitch in her side, looking up at Keith and Lance as they stepped down into the hallway at the same time.

“Lance! Keith!” Her face lit up with relief for a moment, but her smile dropped as she fully took in the sight of them––Lance with his sleeve torn and arm bleeding, Keith still leaning against him with crimson running down half his face.

“Uh, hi,” Lance said, trying on a sheepish grin.

Pidge wasn’t having it, though. Her expression settled into a frown as she pointed sternly down the hallway. “Both of you. Med bay. Now.”

“Okay, okay. We’re going,” Lance stammered, just a little intimidated by Pidge’s transformation into five feet of barely-contained rage.

He led Keith the short distance back to the med bay, holding him up when he stumbled a little on the way there.

Once they’d made it through the doorway, Lance walked them over to the bed in the corner. “You should sit down, dude.”

Keith was apparently too tired to protest, as he lowered himself onto the edge of the cot with his legs dangling over the side. He lifted a hand again to press it over his bleeding forehead, and looked up so that his gaze locked onto Lance’s.

They were both silent for a second before Lance felt the edge of his mouth twitch into an involuntary smirk. At the same time, Keith returned the smile with a somewhat devilish glint in his eyes. His shoulders shook in a small laugh that made something unexpected and warm flare up in Lance’s chest, something almost … fond.

This whole situation was ridiculous, and terrifying, and they could have died. And yet here they were, alive despite the odds, and laughing like it was some kind of secret between them. Like they were two dumb kids who’d just been called into the principal’s office––a feeling Lance remembered well from his flight school days.

The moment was short-lived, though, as Hunk came barreling into the room right then and headed straight towards Lance, sweeping him into a tight bear hug.

“Oh, man. I’m so glad you guys are okay. I was so worried.”

As much as he appreciated the sentiment, Lance couldn’t think past the horrible pain in his right arm as Hunk inadvertently squeezed it. The only response he could manage was a feeble, “Ow … Hunk … arm.”

“Huh? Oh. Oh, my God. I’m sorry.” Hunk stepped back again, keeping his hands on Lance’s shoulders as his gaze flitted over his friend in search of injury. He winced when he saw the laceration in Lance’s arm. “Jeez, Lance. That looks really bad.”

His eyes were watery and tinged with red, Lance noticed, like he’d been on the verge of tears. Lance felt a tight knot of guilt in his stomach, suddenly realizing how terrified Hunk and Pidge must have been to receive his cryptic warning earlier.

“I’m fine, Hunk,” he insisted, forcing a reassuring smile. He gave his friend a firm pat on the shoulder. “Sorry if I worried you, buddy.”

Behind Hunk, Pidge was looking between Lance and Keith like she didn’t even know where to start. She let out a shuddering breath. “Gosh, we leave you two alone for like five quiznaking minutes …”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Sorry, Pidge. Guess you really got your work cut out for you, huh?”

She just pouted at him in response, but there was a slight tremor to her lower lip and a gleam to her eyes that made Lance quickly realize that she had been really scared too, and his smile immediately dropped.

He didn’t have time to get out a more genuine apology, because Pidge was already making her way over to where Keith was still sitting on the bed.

“Okay. I’ll hold off on all the questions I have right now. Keith, let me see this head injury of yours. Can you lift your hair up a little?”

“Uh, sure.” Keith pushed his bangs away from his forehead, exposing the place where he’d been hit.

Pidge leaned a little closer to inspect it. “Alright, it actually doesn’t look too bad, so I don’t think it’ll need stitches or anything. It’s swelling a little, but I think if we just bandage and ice it, it’ll be okay. Also, I’m not sure how long the Balmeran healing serum will stay in your system, but that might help it heal faster.”

She unhooked a small flashlight from her belt of tools and shone it into Keith’s eyes. “Lance told us that you passed out. Did that happen when you got hit in the head?”

“No, after,” Keith said. “I mean, it definitely hurt when I got hit, but I don’t think I quite blacked out. It was after we, uh, defeated all the robots. I just started to feel really dizzy, and … yeah.”

Pidge hummed and put her flashlight back on her belt. “Okay. How long was he out for, Lance?”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know, a minute or two? It wasn’t that long.”

“Hey, not to interrupt,” Hunk interrupted, “but can I ask what … happened? What is all this stuff you guys keep saying about ‘evil robots’?”

Keith and Lance exchanged a wary glance before Lance tried to form an answer.

“We know about as much as you do, really. It was a little while after you guys left. Blue’s alarms started going crazy and we heard something up on the roof. Turned out that something was a bunch of robots that wanted to kill us.”

“O-kay,” Hunk said slowly. “And that’s all? They didn’t say why they were here?”

“Yeah, no. They didn’t exactly give us a detailed explanation. Just started firing blasters at us. They came in some kinda high-tech looking ship, too.”

Hunk had been tapping thoughtfully at his chin, but all of a sudden he looked up at Lance and a look of dread crept into his eyes. “Oh, no,” he murmured. “Do you––Do you think … ?”

“Lance,” Pidge said, cutting off Hunk’s question. “Get over here so I can look at your arm.”

Lance gave Hunk an apologetic look and walked over as Pidge had requested, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Keith, who scooted over a bit to make room for him.

“You’re gonna have to take your jacket off,” Pidge instructed.

“Fine,” Lance said with a dramatic sigh. “You all have to promise not to swoon at the sight of my guns, though.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Pidge deadpanned. At the same time, Hunk gave him an exasperated look. Keith, on the other hand, remained strangely silent, and Lance resisted the urge to turn around just to see the look on his face.

Lance reluctantly shrugged off the jacket, leaving only the sleeveless gray shirt he was wearing underneath it. He winced a little as he eased his right arm out of the sleeve, the fabric brushing unpleasantly against the wound.

Narrowing her eyes, Pidge looked it over with a solemn expression. Lance held his breath as he waited for some kind of verdict, hoping the nerves didn’t show on his face.

“Hmm,” Pidge said at last. “I’ll be able to tell better once we wipe the blood off, but it actually doesn’t look as bad as I expected. It looks like the laser beam mostly just grazed you, and the heat from it might’ve cauterized the wound a bit. I think if we just disinfect and bandage it, it should be okay.”

Across the room, Hunk heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good.”

“I told you it wasn’t that bad,” Lance huffed.

Pidge glared at him. “You were lucky, Lance. If that beam had hit you at just a slightly different trajectory …” She let out a shaking sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound like I’m angry. It’s just, you both could’ve gotten really hurt, or …”

Her eyes were shining again, and guilt welled up in Lance’s chest.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Pidge. We’re both okay. And we’re sorry. It wasn’t really fair to keep you guys in the dark about what was happening. And also sorry that now you have to deal with all … this.” He gestured at his own arm injury and at Keith’s bleeding forehead.

Pidge sniffled a little but she managed a smile. “And you said you wouldn’t need a medic.”

“You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Maybe when everyone on this ship stops getting themselves hurt,” Pidge said, but it was more joking than accusatory. She looked between Keith and Lance again with a short sigh. “Anyway, I’m just glad you guys are okay.”

She unexpectedly surged forward to hug both of them, one short arm wrapped around Lance and the other around Keith. Lance tensed in surprise, but then smiled and patted her on the back. He also couldn’t help but notice that, the way Pidge had drawn them all together, his bare arm was now pressed up against Keith’s, and it sent a strange tingling sensation all the way up to his shoulder.

“Aw, man. I’ve gotta get in on this,” Hunk said tearfully.

Moments later, his large arms encircled all three of them, and Lance let out another small whimper of pain.

“Hunk … arm.”

“Quiznak, not again. Sorry, Lance.”

Hunk shifted his position so he wasn’t crushing Lance’s injury anymore. They all settled into the group hug for a few more moments before pulling away again. Everyone was smiling except for Keith, who looked shell-shocked like he had no idea what had just happened.

“Okay,” Pidge said with a short sigh. “We really need to get you guys patched up, now.”

The next few minutes were spent doing just that. Pidge did a lot of bustling around the med bay looking for supplies, practically climbing up onto the counter to reach the cabinet. She asked Hunk for some assistance and he complied, helping her find a few things she needed, although he seemed a bit nervous the whole time. Lance asked him a few times if he was okay, knowing that Hunk didn’t deal very well with blood and all, but he kept insisting he was fine.

Luckily, it didn’t take long before Lance and Keith were both properly cleaned up and bandaged. Pidge had Rover scan each of them just to double-check she hadn’t missed anything, and she seemed content with the results Rover projected.

“So, you definitely don’t have a concussion, Keith. You probably just fainted from exhaustion. You’re gonna have to really take it easy for the next few days. Lance, your arm should be fine, but it might scar.”

“Whoa, really? Sick!” Lance exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted a badass scar.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him in incredulity. “Seriously?”

Lance scoffed. “Oh, you’re just jealous that you’re not the only one with a cool scar now.”

“What are you––” Keith started to say, and then seemed to realize what Lance meant. He absently touched the scar near his jaw and looked away without saying another word.

Huh, okay. That was weird.

But Lance didn’t dwell on it, because something more urgent had come to his attention.

“Oh, hey. Hunk, Pidge. Did you get the message log from Keith’s ship?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keith sit up straighter. At the same time, Hunk and Pidge exchanged a quick glance. They both looked a little anxious, which Lance assumed wasn’t a very good sign.

“Uh, right,” Hunk said at last, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I guess with you guys almost dying and all we kinda got sidetracked. But, well … we don’t know whether it worked or not.”

“The good news is that the ship was still intact,” said Pidge. “Well, sort of. Anyway, the message log hadn’t been destroyed, luckily, and Hunk was able to locate it.”

“And I’m pretty proud of myself for that,” Hunk cut in with a smile. “It was pretty challenging. Keith, your ship was like … super high-tech, dude.”

“Anyway,” Pidge continued. “We had Rover try to scan and copy everything in the message log, but it was taking a while to process. And that was around when we got your call, Lance.”

“Oh, no.” Lance slouched, slapping a hand to his forehead. “So you mean, you had to stop the download because of me?”

“It’s not your fault. You were in trouble,” Pidge reassured him. “But … yeah, I’m not sure whether we managed to clone the whole thing or not. It had almost completed by the time we took off. At the very least, hopefully we have the most recent messages. We just haven’t gotten the chance to test it out yet, obviously.”

“Okay, so what are we waiting for?” Lance jumped off the bed.

Hunk looked from him to Keith and back again. “Well … I mean, I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes too high. Like Pidge said, we haven’t tested it, so it’s possible it might not work.”

“I know that. But there’s no way to find out unless we test it, right?”

“True,” Pidge said, tapping her chin. “I guess there isn’t much of a point in putting it off.”

“Alright. So, what do you guys think? We all listen to whatever Rover managed to download?” Lance asked. “And can we maybe move somewhere else to do that? I’m starting to get sick of being in this room.”

“Agreed,” said Hunk. “Let’s take it to the conference room.”

Pidge blinked. “You guys have a conference room?”

“A small one, and we hardly ever use it––I think the last guy who owned the ship used it for diplomatic meetings and stuff––but yeah,” Hunk explained.

“Okay,” Pidge said with a shrug. “Works for me.” She motioned for Rover to follow her. “Come on, buddy.”

Pidge, Hunk, and Rover had all started to move towards the door. Lance stepped forward, meaning to follow after them, when it suddenly occurred to him that Keith had been oddly silent throughout this conversation. He looked over his shoulder to see that Keith had gotten to his feet at least, but he was standing frozen next to the bed as if terrified to move.

“Keith? You coming with us?”

“I––” Keith started to say, and then his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “Actually ... Lance, can I talk to you for a second?”

That had been the last thing Lance expected to hear, and he stared at Keith in surprise. He turned again to see that Hunk and Pidge had moved out into the hallway, and he could hear them already talking in some technical jargon that he barely understood. They didn’t seem to notice that Keith and Lance hadn’t followed them yet.

“Uh … sure, man,” he managed to say to Keith at last, and then called out into the hallway, “Hey, guys! We’ll catch up with you in a minute, okay?”

Hunk and Pidge both turned halfway down the corridor to look back at Lance quizzically.

“Why, is everything okay?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, we’re good. Just … um … wanted to talk a bit about what happened so we can tell you guys the whole story. Don’t wanna miss any important details.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Lance knew it was a lost cause. Lance had never been a good liar, and on top of that, Hunk knew him well enough to be able to see right through him. Fortunately, they were good enough friends that Hunk also knew when to let things slide.

“Okay,” he said. “See you guys in a minute, I guess.”

Pidge, unlike Hunk, didn’t seem to suspect anything. She only shrugged one shoulder in response. “That’s cool. We probably need a few minutes to figure out how to access the recordings, anyway. We’ll let you guys know when we’ve got it to work.”

She and Hunk both turned and continued their muttered conversation as they made their way down the hall.

“So, what is it?” Lance asked, turning again, and frowned when he saw how pale and shaken Keith suddenly looked. “Hey, are you alright?”

Keith didn’t answer. He just glared at the floor, and Lance saw now that he was holding his knife in one hand again, shifting his grip around the handle.

Still without a word, he shouldered past Lance and stopped by the doorway, peering out into the hall like he wanted to make sure Pidge and Hunk were really out of earshot. When he whirled around again, there was a wild, panicked gleam in his eyes that suddenly set Lance on edge.

“Whoa, seriously,” Lance said, taking a small step backwards. “What’s going on, man? You’re starting to freak me out.”

A muscle in Keith’s jaw twitched. He absently raised a hand to his forehead, fingers running through his long bangs, brushing against the bandage taped to his temple.

“I don’t know if I want to know, okay?” he blurted.

Lance stared back at him, not understanding. “You … don’t want to know what?”

“Who I really am.”

The words came out with a quiet intensity that scared Lance a little. He kept looking Keith right in the eyes and trying to gauge how serious he was being, if he was joking or something, but all he saw there was a sudden fear that made his blood run cold.

“What? Why not?” he demanded.

“Because––” Keith stopped for a moment, taking a shaky breath. “What if it’s something bad? What if I’m …” He trailed off like he couldn’t even finish the question.

All of a sudden, Lance’s chest ached with sympathy. After all, he knew what it felt like to always be searching for the truth, only to be terrified when he was closer to it than ever. The weight of the talisman beneath his shirt was a painful reminder––the talisman he still hadn’t shown to Keith, and now probably wasn’t the best time, although he found himself glancing down at the other boy’s amulet before looking him in the face again.

“Keith,” he said quietly, and then didn’t know what else to say.

Keith’s expression suddenly darkened. “That’s not even my real name. You don’t know anything about me, Lance. I don’t know anything about me.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Lance remained silent. He was haunted once more by what Pidge had said upon first reading Rover’s scannings of Keith. “He’s not human. At least, not completely.”

“I realized something,” Keith went on, when Lance still said nothing. “About the robots that attacked us.”

Bewildered by the sudden change in subject, Lance raised an eyebrow. “What about them? What does that have to do with––”

“They weren’t trying to kill me. Not a single one of them shot at me, but they were all shooting at you. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Lance’s instinct was to tell Keith he’d lost his mind. But now that he thought about it … Wait. It was true.

He’d obviously been too preoccupied with the battle to notice at the time, but now it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen any of the sentries fire their blasters at Keith. One of them had grabbed Keith and tried to drag him to their ship, and there had of course been the one that had tried to knock Keith out. But as far as Lance had seen, none of them had tried to kill Keith.

“Holy shit, you’re right,” he said, once the realization hit him. “But I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t they … ?”

There was a sudden grim expression on Keith’s face that silenced him.

“They must have come here for a reason, and I think that reason is me. They were trying to capture me. And for some reason, they wanted me alive.”

As he’d spoken, Keith hadn’t looked up from the floor. But now he met Lance’s gaze with a piercing glint to his eyes, something desperate and almost pleading like he was waiting for Lance to arrive at some obvious conclusion.

“I––I don’t understand,” Lance stuttered out. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying … I think I must have done something, Lance. I think––” He drew in a shuddering breath and let it out again, before he unleashed the words he’d been holding back this whole time.

“I think I killed someone.”

Chapter Text

“I think I killed someone.”

The words rattled in Lance’s head, making him take an involuntary step backward. He didn’t know what he had expected Keith to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

He scrutinized Keith’s face for any sign he might have been kidding––but Keith didn’t seem like the joking type, and Lance couldn’t think of any reason why someone would joke about something that dark.

Not to mention, the look on Keith’s face was dead serious as he stared back at Lance, his expression fearful and almost expectant, like he was waiting for Lance to find some kind of solid evidence to refute his claims.

But Lance was coming up empty. What was he supposed to say?

The stark lighting in the med bay suddenly felt sharp and stifling. After a few tense moments, Lance drew in a deep breath and let it out again.

“Well, what makes you think that?”

It seemed like an oddly calm follow-up question, but then again it was probably best to stay level-headed about this. No point in freaking out over it, at least not until he heard Keith’s full explanation.

Keith blinked, like he was taken aback by the question. Then his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Before the attack, you know how I said I remembered something?”

Truthfully, in all the chaos, Lance had forgotten all about it. But now that Keith mentioned it, everything came rushing back to him. He recalled the sight of Keith standing in the bathroom doorway, pale and shaken, one hand gripping the edge of the sink as he said he’d remembered something bad.

“Yeah,” Lance said faintly. “I remember. So, what was it?”

Keith inhaled a slow, shaking breath before he answered.

“It wasn’t very clear. I just remember … blood. All over the place. On the floor, my hands …”

He stopped abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut like that would chase the horrific image away. Maybe Lance should have felt afraid, but all he felt was a painful twinge of sympathy at the sight of Keith standing in front of him, head bowed and hands curled into fists. He simultaneously looked like he wanted to fight something but also like all the energy had been drained out of him.

“Someone else was there,” Keith continued. “Telling me I had to get out of there. That someone was after me.”

The ominous words sent a chill through Lance, and he struggled to think of a way to address this new development, to make it seem less bad somehow … but, well, that was a bit hard to do based on how little information he had. It didn’t help that now Keith had opened his eyes again and was staring at him with obvious anxiety, like he expected Lance to kick him off the ship.

Lance sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to find some semblance of clarity in his scrambled thoughts.

“Okay. Let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions. Yeah, I mean, the uh … ‘blood everywhere’ thing sounds pretty bad. And people being after you is also not good.”

Wow, he was really helping here.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re a murderer.”

“What else could it mean?” Keith snapped. “I must’ve gotten that blood on my hands somehow, and then the sword … and the military robots that were trying to capture me …”

Lance couldn’t help but snort a little. “So, what, you think you’re some kind of wanted ninja assassin?”

From the glare Keith shot at him in return, apparently that was exactly what he thought.

“Keith. No offense, but that’s kind of ridiculous. Sure, you’ve obviously been through … something. And yeah, the magical sword thing is a bit weird. But we really don’t know enough to conclude that you’re some kind of criminal.

“We don’t even know if those guys were after you specifically, and even if they were, it could be for all kinds of reasons. Like, I don’t know, maybe you’re being framed for something you didn’t do. Or if you did kill someone, it could’ve been in self-defense, or …”

It occurred to him then that Keith’s face had blanched to an even paler shade than it had been before, and Lance stopped himself.

“Uh, sorry. I guess that’s not helping,” he stammered. "Point is, there's no reason to assume the worst when we don't know anything yet. And we won't know anything until we go through that message log."

Of course, they still didn't know if the message log had anything on it, but Lance figured that was beside the point.

"I guess so," Keith said, after mulling it over. "I just ... If there is someone after me, I don't want to put you guys in any more danger. This one attack was bad enough. We both could've been killed."

"Okay, but we didn't get killed, and that's what matters," Lance insisted. "Trust me. Whatever comes our way, we can handle it."

Keith kept his head lowered and his arms crossed.

"Besides," Lance went on, "we don't know for a fact it was you they were after."

At that, Keith looked up in bewilderment. "Well, who else would it be?"

Lance suddenly regretted what he'd said. His talisman felt heavy under his shirt, resting right against his quickening heartbeat. Images flashed through his mind of every suspicious pair of eyes that had followed him through marketplaces, the alien he'd seen just yesterday watching him and speaking into a comm ...

"Don't know. I––I think we should probably go join Hunk and Pidge, huh?" he stammered. "Don't want to keep them waiting too long."

He shot Keith a smile that probably wasn't very convincing and received a blank look in return. Regardless, Keith didn't protest when Lance sidestepped around him and out into the hallway.

When they reached the conference room, Hunk and Pidge were already standing at one end of the long table. Pidge was fiddling with Rover, who beeped a few times in mild protest, while Hunk watched with a frown.

"Any luck?" Lance asked as he strolled through the doorway.

“Not sure yet,” Pidge said without looking up. “Still trying to mess with a few of Rover’s settings.”

“In the meantime, maybe you guys can fill us in a bit more on what happened?” Hunk suggested. His gaze flitted between the two of them, lingering on Lance’s bandaged arm and the gauze taped to Keith’s forehead.

Keith and Lance looked at each other, as if they were both expecting the other to answer. Lance shifted on his feet, scratching his elbow.

“Well, I might be forgetting a few details, but …”

He started to tell the story, beginning from when Blue’s alarms first went off.

When he got to the part about Keith’s knife transforming into a sword, Hunk and Pidge both looked up in alarm. Pidge dropped the screwdriver she was holding.

“His knife did what?”

“Turned into a big glowy sword,” Lance repeated nonchalantly. “Like one second, it was a normal knife, then it started glowing bright purple and turned into a freakin’ sword. Man, I thought I was seeing things for a second.”

He didn’t realize until then that Keith suddenly looked self-conscious, redness rising to his face as he put a hand over the scabbard at his hip.

“Whoa. Is that true, Keith?” Hunk asked. “Or is Lance just making things up?”

“Hey!”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. No offense, Lance. Anyway …” Hunk turned his attention back to Keith. “So, how’d you do that? Can you do it right now?”

“Uh,” Keith said and cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s true. And, I don’t know. I can try … ?”

For some reason he looked at Lance as he said it, as if asking for permission. Lance gave him an encouraging nod.

Keith pulled the knife out slowly, holding it a slight distance in front of him like he was afraid it would magically turn into a sword out of nowhere. But a few moments passed and there was no sign of a transformation. It remained an ordinary knife, clutched between Keith’s hands.

At this point, Hunk and Pidge weren’t even paying attention to Rover anymore. They had both inched around the table to watch Keith, eyes fixed on the blade.

“Hmm,” Hunk said at last, breaking the silence. “It doesn’t seem to be doing anything.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lance deadpanned. He scratched the back of his head. “Well, I promise I’m not making it up. You can go up on the roof and see all the slashed-up robots for yourself. No way a tiny knife could’ve done that.”

“It’s not tiny,” Keith said defensively.

“Okay, okay. Definitely not as big as a sword, though.”

"Well, how did you do it before?" Pidge asked. She had moved another step closer to Keith, tilting her head as she inspected the knife. "Like, does the knife have some kind of mechanism that allows it to ... unfold somehow? Like I don't know, a button or something?"

Keith shook his head. "No, it wasn't like that." He turned the blade over in his hands, running a thumb over the bandages covering its handle. "I didn't physically do anything to make it happen. It just happened. Like ..."

"Magic?" Lance suggested.

Pidge scoffed. "Yeah, right. There must be some other explanation––"

"No," Keith cut her off. "Lance is right. It really did feel like that, as ridiculous as it sounds. Like I just had some kind of instinct to activate it somehow."

"Hmm. So like, you just concentrated really hard and it happened?" Hunk asked.

"Sort of. It wasn't quite that simple, but I ... I can't explain it. I was kinda panicking in the moment, and now ..." Keith winced, reaching up to touch the bandage on his forehead. "I don't know. It's all a big blur."

Sensing that Keith was starting to get overwhelmed, Lance cleared his throat. "It's okay, man. We'll just have to wait and see if it happens again, I guess. Hopefully next time with no killer robots involved."

"I'm still curious how that could have worked," Pidge murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes scanned the white tabletop in front of them as if she expected to see an answer written there. "Without some sort of physical mechanism to trigger the transformation. I mean, I guess it could respond to vocal commands or some other environmental factor, but––"

"Pidge," Hunk said. "Maybe we should prioritize the message log right now." He gestured over his shoulder to where Rover sat patiently at the end of the table.

"Right, right. Sorry, buddy," Pidge said to the droid as she scurried around the table again. "Just a few more tweaks and I think we'll be good to go."

Attempting to ease some of the tension in the room, Lance pulled out the nearest chair and slid into it, propping his feet up on the table. “How much longer do you think this is gonna take?”

Pidge shrugged, fiddling with Rover some more. “Don’t know. Not much longer. Hunk, can you help me out here?”

As the two of them fussed over the droid, adjusting wires and pressing buttons, Lance crossed his arms and impatiently jiggled his foot. He resisted the urge to look over at Keith, but could see him moving out of the corner of his eye, slipping his knife back into the scabbard at his side.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Pidge said at last. She typed something onto her tablet and looked expectantly up at Rover, who was floating in the air in front of her.

Nothing happened.

Everyone remained quiet. Lance had stopped fidgeting, all of his focus directed on the hovering droid. He noticed Keith shift slightly like he wanted to bolt out of the room.

“Oh, man,” Hunk groaned after the silence had stretched out for almost a minute. “I don’t know, guys. Maybe the ship was too badly damaged.”

“Yeah.” Pidge’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I don’t know what else to try. I’m really sorry, Keith. I thought this was going to––”

Rover emitted a crackling noise then, cutting off the end of her sentence. They all looked up in surprise, tense with anticipation.

And then a voice came through, faint and riddled with static.

“Shiro? Shiro, do you read me?”

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed, sitting up straight. “Is that … ?”

Pidge shushed him, her eyes wide as she stared at Rover. She gestured for Lance and Keith to come closer.

Lance jumped to his feet, scrambling around the perimeter of the table to stand at Pidge’s side. Keith was slower to follow, trailing behind Lance as if he was walking through a dream. Lance looked over at him with an excited grin, but his smile dropped when he saw how pale Keith had gone at the sound of his own voice.

There had been a lengthy silence by now, and Lance started to wonder if that had been the entire message––or all Rover had managed to record, anyway––when Keith’s voice came through again.

This time, the strain in it was much more evident, like he’d been trying to speak through immense agony. It occurred to Lance then that he must have recorded this message after he’d already been wounded, and his blood ran cold at the thought.

“Okay. I don’t have a lot of time, but I hope you’re alright and that you get this message. I … I’ve managed to get away. For now, at least. I’m headed down to some planet called Rivlax in Sector 4188. Sending you my coordinates now.”

Rover emitted a beam of green light and everyone jumped back, startled, before realizing that the droid was just projecting a small map into the air, with one section of it highlighted by a blinking light.

Cautiously, Lance inched forward again as he squinted at the holographic star map. He recognized it, having been in this sector many times before. Sure enough, the blinking indicator was hovering right over the planet where they were currently located.

The map vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. Keith’s voice returned a moment later, even weaker than it had been before.

“I’m hoping there’s someone on this planet who can help me. My ship is damaged pretty bad and I … well, I got shot when I was escaping and it’s … not good. I––shit, I’m bleeding a lot. So, uh. Hopefully I can get help somewhere, or you can find me before …”

The words trailed off into stillness, except for the faint sound of Keith breathing raggedly.

It was almost physically painful to listen to, and Lance realized he’d been holding his own breath and was starting to feel dizzy from lack of air. He snuck a worried glance at Keith, who remained standing stiffly a few feet away like he thought Rover was a bomb about to explode. One of his hands gripped the back of a nearby chair so tightly that his knuckles had gone white, while his other hand pressed against the spot in his abdomen where he’d been shot, like he could still feel the phantom pain.

“Shiro …” Keith’s voice continued through Rover’s speaker. “I think … think I’m gonna pass out pretty soon but uh … I just. I really hope you’re still alive. I––I probably don’t say this enough, but I’ve always thought of you as my brother. I hope you know that.

“And I can’t––can’t lose you, too. Not after everything. So, please … please, be okay. We’re gonna make it out of this. I don’t know how, but we have to. I … I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

The sound disintegrated into static, which then cut off abruptly a few seconds later.

No one spoke.

“Well,” Hunk said at last. “That didn’t tell us much.”

“Maybe there’s some other messages on it … ?” Pidge murmured, but she didn’t sound very hopeful. She reached up to take Rover in her hands, opening a small hatch in the droid’s side and squinting at it.

Lance’s attention turned back to Keith, who was now staring down at the white tabletop with a faraway expression, eyes flitting over the surface.

“Hey,” Lance said. “You okay?”

Keith didn't answer. One of his hands closed in a fist around his talisman as if on instinct, and he swayed a little on his feet.

"Maybe you should sit down," Lance suggested cautiously.

He touched Keith's elbow, and Keith went rigid as if he'd forgotten there was anyone else in the room. But after a moment, he lowered himself into the chair he'd been standing next to. He still hadn't spoken a word or even looked up, and it was starting to freak Lance out a little. Something was wrong.

Hunk and Pidge didn't seem to have noticed, as they continued muttering to each other and messing with Rover's settings on Pidge's tablet.

"Guys," Lance said sharply.

"Yeah?" Hunk looked over at Keith and his eyes widened with concern. "Oh. Oh, quiznak. I'm sorry, Keith. That, uh ... That must've been hard to listen to. Are you okay?"

Still no answer. Keith ran a thumb over the red gem on his talisman. His gaze remained fixed on the table.

"Shiro," he said quietly.

There was a note of confusion in his voice, but through it gleamed a spark of recognition––like he was trying out the name, like speaking it would conjure forth some long-forgotten memory.

"Shiro?" Lance repeated. He glanced at Hunk and Pidge for guidance but only received baffled looks in return. "That's the name you said in the message, right? The person you were trying to contact?"

After hesitating for a moment, Keith nodded.

"And ... do you remember who that is?"

Another long pause ensued as Keith thought, his brow furrowing with the effort. At last, he gave a minute shake of his head in response.

"I––I don't know. Not really. I know that he's my friend. That he's important to me."

Lance leaned a hand against the edge of the table as he listened to Keith's halting words. He drummed his fingers against the surface. "Yeah, you said in that message he was like your brother. But he's not actually your brother, I take it?"

"No, I don't think so," Keith answered.

He kept running his thumb around the outside of his amulet in a way that suddenly made Lance conscious of his own talisman resting against his chest beneath his shirt. No one said anything, in some kind of silent agreement that Keith needed a minute to think.

"I––I was supposed to find him," Keith said faintly. "He was helping me escape from ... something. Something ..." He let out a shuddering breath.

"Hey, it's okay if you––" Lance started to say, but stopped short when Keith's eyes suddenly snapped towards him, wide and terrified.

"That was him. The one in the memory I told you about. With the blood and the––"

The end of Keith's sentence cut off abruptly like he'd suddenly realized what he was saying.

"The ... blood?" Hunk repeated, warily looking between Keith and Lance. "What are you talking about? Wait, did you just say you remembered something? When did that happen?"

Instead of answering, Keith stood up from his chair without warning. He suddenly looked panicked, hands clenching into fists at his sides, eyes darting towards the door like he intended to run away.

"Whoa, Keith." Lance put his hands up in an attempt at a calming gesture. "Slow down for a second."

Truthfully, he was trying to calm himself as much as he was trying to placate Keith. Everything that had happened in the past couple hours––the attack, and now this cryptic message, as well as Keith's sudden nervous energy––seemed to all be building at once and coursing through Lance's veins like electricity. He could feel it all the way in his fingertips, making him feel sharp and explosive. He needed to breathe, to put all these pieces together somehow.

"Am I missing something?" Pidge asked, disrupting the silence. "I feel like I'm missing something."

Several emotions warred on Keith's face: fear and anger that gave way to indecisiveness. He still hovered by the side of his chair, stiff and unmoving.

"Yes, I remembered something,” he said at last, barely audible. “It’s––It’s kind of hard to describe, since it’s not very clear, but ...”

He inhaled shakily before he gave his rushed explanation, describing the same scene he’d told Lance about: the blood on his hands, someone telling him he needed to escape.

“Oh,” Hunk murmured when Keith finished speaking. He’d remained on the other side of the table, keeping his distance like he thought Keith was about to burst into flames. “Well, that’s … not good.”

“So, someone’s after you?” Pidge asked, her eyes widening. “Who?”

"No idea. I didn't see them in the memory or anything." Keith chewed his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "But these robots that came after us, they were pretty high-tech and came in some kinda military ship. So whatever I did, it must've been bad."

"Like I was telling you before, we don't know that you 'did' anything," Lance reiterated.

"I know," Keith said. "But either way, someone is trying to hunt me down ... and I led them straight to us."

It took a second before the words sunk in.

"The coordinates in your message," Pidge murmured. "They must have obtained it somehow ... must've caught your radio signal or something. Still doesn't explain why they're after you, though."

“Uh, what was it you said again about that memory of all the … blood?” said Hunk, a note of anxiety in his voice. “I imagine it probably has something to do with that.”

Lance looked at Keith nervously, and saw the same tight-jawed expression he’d expected to see. He knew what was going through Keith’s mind. He was about to tell Hunk and Pidge the same fear he’d told Lance.

“Oh,” Pidge said, seeming to come to the conclusion before Keith even spoke. Her face had suddenly gone pale. “You mean, you think you … ?”

She didn’t even have to say it. Keith’s mouth set in a grim line, and he nodded. Hunk shrank back a step with a nervous whimpering noise.

“Hey, let’s not jump right to the worst case scenario,” Lance cut in. “We don’t have any evidence that Keith hurt anyone. In fact, it seems more like someone was trying to hurt him.” He turned towards Keith. “I mean, sounds like this Shiro guy was trying to help you escape from something bad. Someone shot you in the back, a bunch of evil robots were trying to capture you … It sounds more like you’re the one in danger than the one causing it.”

He stopped rambling, expecting Keith to argue with him the way he had earlier. Instead, to his surprise, Keith had a contemplative look on his face all of a sudden, like he was actually considering the possibility.

If he was going to say anything at all, it was cut off by a gasp from Pidge.

“Wait, maybe there’s a way to find out!”

Lance blinked at her. “There is?”

“The ship. The one those robots came in,” Pidge went on excitedly. “It’s still on the roof, right?”

“Yeah, but what … ? Oh.” The realization suddenly dawned on Lance and he stood up straight. “You think there might be some kind of intel on the ship?”

“Ooh! And with the modifications we just added to Rover, maybe he could download the logs,” Hunk added, clasping his hands together.

The droid chirruped at the sound of his name as if to affirm that he was capable of the task.

“So, we might be able to download the information about why they came here,” Pidge said with an eager grin.

The only one who didn’t look so enthused was Keith, who was still being very quiet. He frowned down at the table, crossing his arms and shrinking in on himself like he wanted to disappear.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “What if …” He couldn’t even finish the question.

“Hey.” Lance nudged Keith’s arm with his elbow. “We won’t know unless we try. And no matter what we find out, we’ve got your back. Right, guys?”

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a questioning glance before they both nodded.

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Lance, already starting to back towards the door. “Let’s go check it out!”

—

Lance cautiously opened the hatch, almost fearing that another army of robots had come to attack them. His free hand hovered near the pistol at his holster just in case.

But as soon as he poked his head out of the opening, he saw the same grim scene he and Keith had left behind not long before––metallic body parts strewn across the roof, some of them still sparking and smoking but otherwise showing no hints of life.

“Okay, looks like the coast is clear,” Lance stage-whispered down to the others. “Follow me.”

“Okay,” Hunk whispered back, and then hesitated before raising his voice to a normal volume again. “Wait … why do we have to whisper if the coast is clear?”

“Oh. I guess we don’t,” Lance said with a shrug, and then he stepped out onto the roof.

The three others followed him, although they hovered a couple feet behind.

Hunk gasped when he saw the mechanical remains littering the ground. “Holy crow. You guys fought off all these robots by yourselves?”

“Oh, you know. No big deal,” Lance said with a lopsided grin and a casual shrug of one shoulder. “Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?”

He winked in Keith’s direction, but Keith didn’t seem to be listening. He was looking over the broken metallic body parts scattered around them like they were pieces of a puzzle he was trying to fit together. One of his hands hovered near the knife at his waist.

“Well, we should probably go check out that ship,” Pidge said, gesturing towards the vessel parked on Blue’s roof, not far from where they stood.

Now that he wasn’t preoccupied with fighting for his life, Lance took a closer look at the enemy ship. Its exterior was such a dark shade of purple that it was almost black, and Lance frowned at its unfamiliar sharp angles and the glowing violet insignia on its side.

“Whoa,” Hunk breathed, stepping up to stand next to Lance. “That’s a really intense ship, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“Me either.” Lance had a sudden, heavy feeling of dread in his stomach. But he squared his shoulders and started towards the ship anyway. “Come on, let’s go.”

The four of them picked their way across the roof, dodging the wreckage in their path. Lance tilted his head up to look at the ship, which seemed a lot bigger now that they were closer to it.

A door in its side was hanging wide open, creating a gangplank up into the ship’s interior. A faint purple light illuminated the inside.

Lance remained tense, all of his senses on alert. Although he was fairly certain there weren’t any traps afoot, he didn’t want to risk anything.

“I’ll go in first,” he said. “Wait until I give the signal that it’s safe.”

“Lance––” Hunk started to protest.

But Lance was already making his way up the steps, pulling the pistol out from the holster at his side. As he stepped through the open doorway, he quickly scanned his surroundings with the weapon outstretched in front of him.

After a few tense moments, he lowered the gun a little. There wasn’t much to see on the inside of the ship. To the right was some kind of narrow passage with alcoves lining the sides, presumably where the sentries had been lined up side-by-side, and to Lance’s left was a set of sliding doors that he figured led into the cockpit.

As he inched towards the doors, he noticed there was a panel on the wall next to them with the glowing outline of a hand shape on it.

Lance cursed, realizing that the doors to the cockpit required some kind of identity scan. He weighed his pistol in one hand for a second as he considered just shooting the panel to see if it would override the system, but he didn't want to take that risk. Luckily, he had a better idea a moment later.

"Hey, guys!" he called, sticking his head outside the ship again. "Someone get me one of those robot arms." He gestured towards the discarded sentry parts littering the deck. "One with a hand attached to it."

"Are you saying you need us to ... give you a hand?" Hunk said.

"Hunk," Lance deadpanned.

"I'm sorry, Lance. I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

"I'm on it." Pidge had already moved towards one of the many detached metal limbs lying on the roof. She kicked at it experimentally before bending down to pick it up, straining a bit as she hefted it into her own small arms. "Oh, man. It's heavier than it looks."

"Here, I've got it." Keith took it from her hands, staring down at it quizzically for a moment before lifting his head again. "What do you need this for?"

"'Cause it looks like the doors to the cockpit require handprint recognition. I figured one of those might do."

Although he looked skeptical, Keith gave a solemn nod and started to walk up the gangway. Lance motioned for Hunk and Pidge to follow him.

"You can all get in here, by the way. I don't see any traps or anything."

Hunk and Pidge exchanged a wary look before Hunk shrugged.

"Okay. Be right there!" He started to walk up the steps after Keith.

It took a second before Pidge followed, with Rover floating close behind her.

Lance remained in the doorway, stepping aside to let Keith and Hunk pass him on their way into the ship. He noticed, though, that Pidge seemed a lot more hesitant, taking slow steps up the ramp. Her eyes fixed on the side of the ship all of a sudden and she froze, her face blanching.

"Pidge?" Lance said, raising an eyebrow at her. "You okay?"

She snapped out of it. "Huh? Oh. Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Without providing a further explanation, she ducked through the doorway and shouldered her way past Lance.

Although he was still unsure what to make of Pidge’s sudden change in behavior, Lance decided to let it slide for now. They had more important things to take care of. Besides, Pidge was probably just nervous about entering some strange enemy ship. Totally understandable.

Anyway, back to business. Lance joined his friends where they had gathered near the doors to the cockpit, and he gestured towards the access panel.

"Okay, there it is. Keith, you wanna do the honors?"

"Uh ... sure."

Keith lifted the robot arm he'd been carrying, fumbling with it a bit before he managed to angle it the right way and press the hand against the panel.

No more than a second later, a faint beep sounded. The double doors slid open with a quiet whooshing sound.

Lance let out the breath he'd been holding in. "Oh, man. I wasn't sure that would work."

"Well, it did! Good thinking, Lance," Hunk said with a smile, offering his hand for Lance to fist-bump.

Grinning, Lance bumped their knuckles together. "Thanks, buddy."

"Guys, look," Pidge whispered, interrupting their exchange. She had inched forward cautiously past the open doors, stepping into the cockpit.

Or ... well, it was more like an entire deck than a cockpit. In his excitement that the doors had actually opened, Lance hadn't quite processed what he was looking at until now.

In front of them was a large open space. Pedestals lined the perimeter, each structure with a holographic purple screen floating above it. An empty, white round table sat at the very center. Beneath the huge, curved windshield, an enormous dashboard spanned almost half the space in a semicircle.

Lance let out a low whistle. "Man, these guys aren't messing around, huh?"

No one seemed to have heard him. The three others had already started to make their slow progression forward, looking around in silent awe.

Following suit, Lance walked through the doorway. Even though there was no sign of an immediate threat, he remained on high alert––keeping a close eye on his friends and resisting the urge to look over his shoulder every two seconds. After the attack that had happened earlier, he was still on edge.

As the group passed by the round table at the center, Hunk accidentally brushed against it, causing it to make a faint humming noise that made everyone jump back in alarm. Lance's hand flew to the pistol at his waist, before he quickly realized that the only thing that had happened was that a purple holographic map had appeared over the table's surface.

"S-Sorry, guys," Hunk stammered, and then he let out a shaky breath. "Jeez, that scared the quiznak out of me."

"It's okay, buddy."

Lance offered him a reassuring smile, even though his pulse was still racing. He glanced up at the map again, frowning as he scrutinized it. It was so large that he almost had to tilt his head all the way back to see the whole thing. He tried to make sense of the swirling galaxies and scattered planets, but it was a sector of the universe he was pretty sure he'd never seen before.

He realized then that everyone else had kept moving, and he snapped out of it. Stumbling over to join the others, he found that they were all gathered in front of the dashboard and examining all the controls.

"Man, this is the most complicated ship I've ever seen," Hunk murmured. He let one hand hover over the set of controls before him, but then he quickly snatched it back again. "I can't even tell what any of this stuff is for."

"Me either." Pidge adjusted the goggles on her head and leaned in closer to get a better look at the blinking buttons and switches. "I mean, I'm not a pilot but ... How does anyone even manage to fly this thing?"

Keith had been silent for the past minute––and when Lance looked up at him, he found that Keith was standing stiffly at the controls with sudden and acute concentration.

"Maybe you just––" Keith started to say, but he didn't seem to have a follow-up.

Instead of offering any kind of explanation, he wedged his way between Hunk and Pidge. They both stepped back, watching him warily.

Keith didn't even seem to realize that the others were there anymore. As if in a trance, he reached out and began pressing various buttons and flipping switches in rapid succession. With every small movement, the ship started to hum loudly around them.

"Uh, Keith?" Lance said at last, tensing with sudden anxiety. "Are you sure you should be doing that?"

"No," Keith said, and then he grabbed at a nearby lever and pulled.

The effect was immediate, causing the ship to lurch upward. The view outside the windshield careened wildly, displaying the darkening red sky and the scattered remains littering Blue's deck. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all cried out in alarm as they reached for something to grab onto.

"Oh––oh, no. What's going on? Keith, are you kidnapping us?" Hunk exclaimed, clutching onto the back of a nearby chair.

"Or trying to get us killed, maybe?" Lance shouted over the loud hum of the engine.

Keith still had his hands on the controls, but at least now he looked slightly more lucid––his eyes widening in shock.

"No, I'm––I was just ... I thought I could ..." He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

At least after the initial takeoff, the ship wasn't lurching around or anything. It was just hovering a slight distance above Blue's roof.

"It's okay," Lance said with a sigh. "You just kinda surprised all of us, that's all. And we needed to get this ship off of Blue somehow, anyway. You know how to fly this thing?"

With a hesitant glance at the dashboard, Keith nodded. "I think so."

"And I suppose this is one of those abilities that you don't even remember learning, you just know how to do it somehow?"

"Uh ... yeah."

Lance scoffed. "Of course it is."

By now, everyone had managed to find their balance again, although Lance was still half-expecting the ship to veer off in a random direction with no warning.

“Okay,” Keith sighed, frowning in concentration. “I think I just need to––”

He grasped at a pair of joysticks on the dashboard and nudged them forward, causing the ship to start moving. At least this time Keith seemed more conscious of his movements, trying not to make the ship jump too suddenly.

Still, Lance remained tense as they cruised over the length of Blue’s deck and further out over Rivlax’s surface. They weren’t too far from the ground, and Keith wasn’t even flying that fast, but Lance was still coming down from the adrenaline rush and couldn’t seem to get his racing heartbeat under control. It was partly that and the paranoia that something-or-someone was still here on the ship, ready to attack them at any second.

They made it a slight distance away from Blue before Keith started to ease the ship closer to the ground.

“You think somewhere around here would be a good place to land?”

It took a second before Lance realized Keith had been asking him the question, and he quickly snapped out of his daze.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, looks fine. Maybe in that clear spot down there.”

He pointed to a bare patch of ground in the near distance, which was surrounded on all sides by heaps of debris. With a solemn nod, Keith turned the ship towards where Lance had indicated.

They touched down about a minute later. Dust billowed out from around the ship and then settled as they came to a stop.

Hunk and Pidge were both still gripping onto the edge of the dashboard for dear life, and Hunk let out a huge sigh of relief as soon as they stopped moving.

“Whew, we made it. Not that I don’t trust your flying, Keith. But, uh, anyway … What do we do now?”

“I guess we try to figure out where the message log is stored,” Pidge answered, already looking over the complicated dashboard. “You guys see anything that looks like it might be useful?”

Lance huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t look at me. You guys are the tech geniuses.”

“What about you, Keith?” Hunk asked. “I mean, you knew how to fly this thing. Any idea where they might be storing their messages?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Keith shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” said Pidge. “We’ll figure it out. Everyone start looking.”

The group spread out across the wide curve of the dashboard, searching for anything that looked promising. Lance walked at a casual pace, frowning down at the myriad of glowing buttons, switches, and hovering screens. It felt like trying to discern some horrifically complicated foreign language.

Finally, from the other side of the room, Rover made a triumphant series of beeping sounds.

Pidge stumbled over to where he was hovering. “You think you found something, buddy?”

The droid chirped again and sent out a scanning beam, which moved over the section of the dashboard in front of him. His center light glowed brightly and he started to make a faint whirring noise.

Everyone quickly gathered around, watching as a square screen popped up from the dashboard. Messages started to flit across its translucent purple surface, but they seemed to be written in some indiscernible code.

“What does it say?” Lance asked, crowding closer to get a better look and bumping into Pidge.

“Ow. Lance.” Pidge inched over to give him more space. “And, I don’t know. It’s not a language I’ve ever seen before. Or maybe it’s some kind of secret code. I might be able to crack it if––”

Before she could complete the sentence, a wailing siren started to blare around them. The purple hue of the lights around them suddenly turned red.

Everyone cried out in alarm, clapping their hands over their ears.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Lance muttered.

Right then, the messages on the screen disappeared, replaced by a triangular warning symbol.

“Unauthorized scan detected,” a voice said from around them with robotic calmness. “Shutting down all systems. Engaging self destruction in 60 … 59 … 58 …”

“Uh … did it just say ‘self destruction’?” Hunk said.

“We need to get out of here!” Pidge shouted, grabbing Rover and yanking him away from the dashboard. “Come on!”

As the ominous countdown continued, the group dashed out of the control deck and back to the center of the ship. They stumbled out the door and raced down the gangway, footsteps thundering against the metal.

Lance cursed as soon as he made it outside, remembering that they’d landed in an area surrounded by mountains of garbage. They were trapped.

“Run!” he yelled. “Just get as far away from the ship as you can!”

Maybe that was obvious, but Lance didn’t have much time to think rationally. The only thing going through his head was that he had to get them all to safety somehow.

They all began to scramble up the side of the nearest hill of waste, as scraps of metal and bits of glass slid underneath their feet. They probably only had about thirty seconds left. Hunk and Pidge had almost made it to the top of the hill while Lance and Keith clambered after them.

Suddenly, Lance heard Keith cry out next to him. He turned to see that Keith had fallen and slid down the slope several feet, his hands grappling uselessly at the loose rubble.

“Keith!”

Lance stumbled down a few steps, trying not to trip himself, before he reached out his hand for Keith to grab.

They grasped each other’s wrists in a tight lock, as Lance dug his heels into the surrounding garbage to slow down Keith’s descent. He then hauled Keith to his feet, managing a short smile of relief as Keith regained his balance.

But just as quickly, his face dropped as he glanced over Keith’s shoulder and saw the ship at the bottom of the valley. The blaring alarms were still audible from where they stood, and red light had started to spill out from the windshield and open doorway as a high-pitched whirring noise filled the air.

They had run out of time.

“Guys!” Hunk yelled from the top of the slope where he and Pidge were standing.

Panic flared in Lance’s chest as he realized there was no way he and Keith could make it up there before the ship exploded. He had to think fast.

“Get down!” he shouted up to Hunk and Pidge, and then he gripped tighter onto Keith’s arm. “Sorry, Keith,” he said.

Without giving a further warning, he shoved Keith down onto the rubble. Keith let out a small “Hey!” in protest, but he didn’t have time to question what was happening before Lance flung his own body across Keith’s, shielding him just as the ship behind them exploded.

There was a resounding boom that crashed through the valley, accompanied by a blinding blaze of light. Lance squeezed his eyes shut against the glare and cried out at the sensation of searing heat against his back. Bits of shrapnel rained down, pelting all over his body.

Then, silence.

There were several long moments where Lance wasn’t sure if he’d merely gone numb from shock or whether he’d actually passed out for a second. But he was quickly pulled back into awareness by the loud ringing in his ears. He remained tense, eyes still shut tight, hardly believing that he was still alive.

As the sensation started to return to his limbs, he realized that he was still lying on top of Keith, chest pressed against Keith’s back and face buried against the back of Keith’s neck. He finally remembered to breathe, and upon inhaling discovered that Keith’s hair smelled … nice. A familiar kind of sandalwood scent. He’d probably borrowed some of Lance’s shampoo when he’d showered earlier. Wait … why was he thinking about this right now?

Keith shuddered as a cough wracked through him. “Shit,” he wheezed, struggling out from underneath Lance.

A moment later, Lance felt a firm hand on his shoulder, turning him over onto his back.

“Lance,” Keith said urgently.

He hadn’t realized until then that his eyes were still squeezed shut, and he cracked one of them open. “Ow,” was all he could manage to say.

He was met with the sight of Keith leaning over him, face shadowed against the blood-red of the sky. The light formed a crimson halo around his white hair. He looked … angelic, almost.

Quiznak. Maybe some shrapnel had hit Lance really hard in the head. Either that or the mere shock of what had just happened was messing with his thoughts.

Keith’s eyes searched Lance’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Lance said, and coughed on the smoky air. “Think so.”

He sat up, wincing at the bruises he could already feel forming on his back where he’d been hit with debris.

Keith still had his hand on Lance’s shoulder, his brow furrowed in concern. As the shock faded from his expression, it was replaced by a flash of something that looked almost angry.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” said Lance, staring back at him. “What, throw you down into the garbage? ‘Cause I’m sorry about that. I didn’t have much time to––”

“No, I mean why did you––” Keith cut him off, but then didn’t seem to know how to finish the question. He gave Lance another once-over, as if looking for some horrible injury he had somehow managed to miss. “You could’ve––”

“Lance! Keith!” Hunk’s voice called from above, followed by the sound of crunching and clanking as he and Pidge picked their way down the slope.

From what Lance could tell, they were both unhurt. But as they drew closer, he could see the terrified looks on their faces when they saw Keith kneeling next to Lance in the rubble.

Hunk gasped. "Oh, quiznak. Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Keith said. "Or at least, I am. Not sure about Lance, though. He practically just threw himself in front of that explosion."

Pidge's eyes were wide as she knelt down next to them. "You what?"

"I did not," Lance argued, shrugging Keith's hand off his shoulder. "I just––we weren't going to make it over the top of the hill in time, so I––"

"You tried to take the brunt of the explosion for me," Keith said, eyes still flashing with some barely-contained emotion that Lance couldn't identify. The way Keith said the words, it was like he was testing them out, like he couldn't believe they were true. "Why did you do that?" he asked again.

Lance felt like he'd been put on the spot, as everyone stared at him and waited for an answer. Truthfully, he didn't know why he had done it. It had just seemed so natural in the moment. Like he'd had no other choice. He would've done it for anyone. But the fact that it had been Keith felt significant in a way he couldn't comprehend, one that he couldn't put into words.

Finally, he managed an easy smile that he hoped looked convincing.

"I mean ... That's what we do in a team, right? We look out for each other."

He wasn't sure that was the response Keith had been looking for. But to his surprise, something in Keith's expression softened upon hearing the words.

Pidge cleared her throat. "Are you sure you're not hurt at all, Lance? I can have Rover scan you just in case."

The droid hovered closer to Lance at the mention of his name, beeping enthusiastically, but Lance waved him off.

"No thanks, little buddy. I think I'm good."

He stretched his arms out in front of him, wincing a little, but most of the pain was from his laser wound from earlier and not anything worse than that.

"Man, I've really had enough of almost-dying for one day," he muttered.

Keith, to Lance's surprise, laughed a little at that. When Lance looked over at him, he had a crooked smile on his face.

"I second that," he said.

"Yeah ... whew, that was a close one," Hunk chimed in. He stood slightly off to the side, staring anxiously at the burning wreckage at the heart of the valley.

Lance hadn't taken a close look at it until now, and he winced at what he saw. The ship had been absolutely decimated––unsurprising, based on the mass of the explosion that had rattled the entire area. Its blackened carcass was the only thing that remained, engulfed in crackling orange flames. Pieces of its metal hull had been dispersed haphazardly over the ground and in the surrounding mountains of waste.

“So, uh … I guess we won’t be getting the message log from that ship, huh?” said Pidge, scratching the back of her head. “Sorry, Keith. I wish we could’ve gotten you some answers.”

Without answering, Keith turned to look down at the smoldering remains of the ship. The glow of the flames reflected in his eyes and highlighted the sharp planes of his face in a way that made him look otherworldly. And again, Lance found himself wondering––more desperately than ever––who Keith was. What he was.

"It's alright," Keith said at last, his voice quiet. "What matters is that we all got out of there alive."

There was a certain tension to the words, like he was holding something back, but no one questioned it.

Everyone was silent as they got to their feet. Lance still felt a little dizzy, his ears ringing from the sound of the explosion, but he somehow managed to keep himself upright. Crossing his arms, he glared at the fire burning at the bottom of the slope, the dark smoke rising into the bright crimson sky.

"I don't know about you guys," he said, "but I think I'm ready to leave this planet."

––

[DAIBAZAAL, Galaxy XV-395, Sector 1]

"Sire," Haggar said, bowing her head before the throne. "The guards have brought forth Commander Prorok."

The emperor's skeletal face showed no emotion, but he tapped a finger impatiently against one armrest.

"Send them in."

The doors to the throne room hissed open to reveal a short Galra man between two taller guards. As they made their way across the cavernous room, Zarkon observed with a blank stare. Commander Prorok, however, could not mask the narrow-eyed fury on his face as he was escorted to the foot of the throne.

With a wave of his hand, Zarkon motioned for the guards to step back.

"Emperor Zarkon," Prorok said, although it came out more bitter than respectful, uttered through gritted teeth. "Was it truly necessary to have me escorted here like some lowly prisoner?"

"Is this how you greet your emperor?" was all Zarkon said in response, his eyes narrowing. "Such disrespect is far from admirable, Commander."

Prorok's jaw twitched like he had intended to argue. But after a moment's hesitation, he clenched a fist over his chest and gave a short bow of his head. "My apologies, Emperor. Vrepit sa."

"Vrepit sa," Zarkon repeated without returning the salute. "Now ... on to the matter at hand."

"Which is what, Emperor?" Prorok asked, his head still lowered.

"That you disobeyed my orders."

It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in, and then Prorok looked up again, his yellow eyes widening in shock.

"I do not know what you mean," he said, although his voice wavered slightly. "I sent the ship out to Rivlax, exactly as you commanded."

"Yes, and with nothing but a handful of robotic sentries," Zarkon said. "Why did you not send any soldiers?"

"I––" Prorok began to say, and then went quiet. All trace of anger that had been on his face only moments ago had vanished, consumed by panic. "Your Highness, I did not disobey your orders. You did not specify the means by which I should capture the prince, and I thought it best to send the sentries rather than risk the lives of soldiers to go kidnap some spoiled brat.

“Besides, you heard the prince’s last communication with Shirogane. He had been severely wounded even before he crashed his ship. There was very little chance he was still alive. Sending a group of soldiers to collect his corpse would have been a waste of time and resources.”

At that, Zarkon slowly rose to his feet, standing tall at the top of the stairs and towering over Prorok.

“Do you insinuate that my demands were foolish, Commander?”

He did not raise his voice, but enough rage slipped into the question that Prorok immediately lowered his gaze to the floor again.

“No, sire. I only meant to––”

“Enough. Do not waste my time with your excuses.” Zarkon took a single step down the stairs, and Prorok flinched. “I have seen the footage the sentries managed to record before they were destroyed, so do not act as if I do not know the truth. The prince is alive.”

Prorok’s shoulders tensed. He hesitated before he conceded gruffly, “Yes, sire. I do not know how it is possible.”

Truth be told, Zarkon didn’t know how it was possible, either. His blood still boiled with a disbelieving fury at the recordings he had seen––Prince Akira wielding his sword, slashing the blade in all directions as he sliced the sentries apart.

There had been another figure in the background, too. Someone with their back turned, firing with deadly precision at the sentries approaching from the other side.

Somehow, on the desolate planet of Rivlax, the prince had managed to find an ally. Possibly someone who had helped him escape. The question was, how had he managed to survive a grave injury as well as the crash landing of his ship, and had healed quickly enough to be charging into battle only a day later? Unless, of course, the message he’d conveyed to Shirogane about being wounded had been faked …

Breaking from the train of thought, Zarkon resumed his infuriated demeanor.

“How the prince managed to survive is irrelevant,” he snarled. “It does not change the fact that you disobeyed my orders. It is your foolishness that allowed him to escape.”

Prorok raised his head again. “Lord Zarkon––”

“I will not hear it. You are relieved of your duties, Prorok. Guards, take him away.”

“What do you mean, relieved of my––” Prorok started to demand, but was cut short as the two guards behind him grabbed him roughly by the arms. As they began to drag him backwards, he struggled against them to no avail. “Emperor, please. I did not mean to question your authority. I … Where are you taking me? Please, wait––”

Zarkon had already turned his back, gazing out at the dark night sky over Daibazaal. He didn’t turn around again until Prorok’s loud protests were out of earshot and the doors had slid shut again.

With a deep sigh, he returned to his throne and sat down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Haggar slide silently into view, her hood obscuring her face and her hands tucked into the draping sleeves of her robe.

“Perhaps Prorok will be of use to you, witch,” Zarkon said. “Use him as one of your … experiments.”

She raised her head slightly, glowing yellow eyes glinting from underneath her hood. “I shall consider it, sire,” she said, and then paused before asking, “Do you require anything else at this time?”

Zarkon hesitated, his mind once again returning to the footage he’d seen, and his clawed fingers clenched on the armrests of the throne.

“Yes. Summon Commander Sendak,” he said. “Tell him I have a mission for him.”

Chapter Text

[Galaxy ZL-736, Sector 1130]

“Hmm.” Lance drummed his fingers against the table, eyes flitting over the holographic game hovering in front of him. The three-dimensional grid spun slowly, with a single spaceship icon blinking in and out of view in one corner.

Across from him, Pidge let out a dramatic sigh, propping her chin on one hand. “Any day now.”

“I’m thinking,” said Lance. He weighed his choices one more time and came to a decision. “Okay, okay. I choose … sector X-12.”

Pidge sat up straight, smirking. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean … ugh, you’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” Lance reached out to tap his choice on Pidge’s tablet, which was projecting the game into the air. Then he sat back, holding his breath as he watched his holographic spaceship float up into the sector he had chosen.

Nothing happened.

“Yes!” Lance exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. “Ha, I knew you were––”

Before he could finish the sentence, a little swirling black hole opened up in front of the tiny spaceship and swallowed it. The game played a jaunty little victory tune and flashed green, displaying in bold letters “PLAYER 1 WINS!”

Lance let out an indignant squawk and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, quiznak. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Pidge laughed. Next to her, Rover did a little spin in the air and let out a series of cheerful beeping noises.

Even Keith, who’d been standing next to the table watching them play, laughed a little––although he tried to hide his smirk when Lance glared at him.

“Oh what are you laughing at, Keith? You know I could totally kick your ass at this game.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Keith said, still smiling.

And, well … it was hard for Lance to stay mad at him, because it was actually a big relief to see Keith in good spirits for once.

In the few days since they'd left Rivlax, there had already been a visible change in Keith’s appearance and demeanor. He'd removed the bandage from his forehead, although there was still some bruising around the area where he'd been hit. But there was a healthier glow to his face now, and the dark circles under his eyes were less prominent.

His behavior around the others had shifted as well––he seemed more comfortable, more likely to join in on their conversations or at least to just sit with them and listen contently, and he smiled a bit more often. But there were still many times where he seemed to withdraw into himself, moments where a sudden haunted look would appear on his face and he would walk out of the room.

Lance never wanted to bother him during those moments or make Keith talk about something he didn't want to. He had to admit to himself, though, that it worried him. So whenever Keith managed a genuine smile or two, it loosened the knot of concern in Lance's chest just a little.

"Lance," Pidge said.

"Huh?" He hadn't realized he'd been spacing out. Judging from the impatient edge to Pidge's voice, she had already tried to get his attention multiple times.

"I said, did you want to play another round?"

"Oh. No, I think I'm good," Lance said, letting out an exaggerated yawn and stretching his arms above his head. "Probably gonna hit the hay in a few."

"Good plan. I should probably do the same thing."

Pidge pressed a few buttons on her tablet to close the game, then drew it towards her to frown at something else on the screen.

Just then, the doors to the room slid open and Hunk walked in.

"Hey, buddy," Lance greeted him. "What's up?"

Lance’s smile fell as he looked up and saw Hunk's face. Even though Hunk had managed a brief smile in return, there were telltale signs of exhaustion and worry lurking under the surface––the slight hunch to his shoulders, the glazed look in his eyes. His headband was slightly askew, which probably meant he'd been fiddling with it nervously. Lance had been friends with Hunk long enough to recognize when he was stressed out.

"You okay, Hunk?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm okay," Hunk answered. He pulled out a chair and sat with a tired sigh. "It's just ... I was doing a bit more navigational stuff, trying to find our best route to Xannova. And it looks like there's another asteroid field we're gonna have to detour around. So we're gonna have to do some re-routing."

"Ugh, again?" Lance groaned, running a hand down his face. "How much longer do you think it's gonna take to get there?"

Hunk shrugged. "Probably not too long, maybe like ten vargas? There's just one little problem." His gaze flitted nervously towards Pidge. "Because we're going a different route than we originally planned, we won't be going past the Galjor cluster on the way there. We'll have to loop back around afterwards. Which means we can't drop you off quite yet, Pidge."

Pidge lifted her head at the sound of her name. A bewildered look crossed her face before she seemed to process the words. "Oh," she said, blinking.

"I'm really sorry," Hunk said with a wince. "I know your brother is waiting for you. Do you have some way to communicate with him?"

Very suddenly, Pidge glared down at her tablet again. "Yeah," she said. "I can send him a message. I'm sure he'll understand."

There was something about the rushed way she said it that made Lance suspect she was more upset about it than she was letting on, and he tried to think of some way to lighten the mood.

"Guess you're stuck with us for a couple more days, huh?" he joked, shooting her a grin.

She managed a weak smile in return and scratched the back of her head. "Guess so." For a second she looked like she was going to say something else, but then bit her lip and stayed silent.

"Man ... I'm gonna miss having you around, Pidge," Hunk said. "I mean, I know you've only been on this ship a few days, but I've already gotten so used to you being here."

"I'm gonna miss you guys, too," Pidge said, her voice wobbling a little. She looked around at all of them with shining eyes.

He hadn't really thought about it until now, but it suddenly hit Lance how weird it would be when they all separated. Pidge had been with them for this whole crazy adventure, and it was saddening to realize that soon she'd be going her own way and it was possible they'd never see her again.

"I'm sure we can keep in touch somehow, right?" he said.

After a moment of hesitation, Pidge nodded. "That's true. I ... I might be busy once I get to Zuleraan so I don't know if I'll be able to keep in touch for a while. But when I get the chance, we'll have to catch up. You guys need to keep me updated on the whole, uh ..." She gestured vaguely towards Keith. "Keith thing."

Keith frowned in confusion. "What thing?"

"You know, the whole finding-out-who-you-are thing."

"Oh." Keith looked away, crossing his arms. "Right, that."

Lance felt a twinge of concern, noticing the flicker of worry in Keith's eyes. His mind started racing through all the questions and fears he still had. They still didn't know much about where Keith had come from. And they didn't know how long it would take until he got his memories back––if he was ever going to get them back at all.

No one had really addressed it, but it seemed to be an unspoken agreement that Keith would stay with them until he got some answers about his origins. But there was also the possibility that he'd want to travel off on his own sooner or later. After all, it didn't really seem fair to keep him tethered to one place if he wanted to pursue that information on his own.

At the thought, Lance once again found himself staring at Keith's talisman. Even though he wasn't even looking at Lance, Keith reached for the amulet as if he could sense Lance's eyes on it. He closed his fingers around it, frowning as he ran his thumb over the gem at its center.

Lance gripped the sides of his chair, staring down at the table. His own talisman rested heavily underneath his shirt, the familiar metal warm against his skin. There had been so many moments over the past few days where he'd been tempted to tell Keith about it, but somehow it never felt like the right time, and he didn't know what he was so afraid of.

Hunk had been pestering him ceaselessly about it. “Just tell him, dude,” he’d told Lance the day before. “Who knows? It could remind him what his own talisman means, and maybe that would help him get his memories back. And you might find out something about where you come from, too.”

Which was, of course, completely rational and reasonable just like everything Hunk ever said. And yet, Lance couldn't seem to listen to his advice.

At first he'd thought he was holding back just because he didn't want to overwhelm Keith, what with everything that had happened. But now that Keith seemed to have almost fully recovered––physically, anyway––Lance was running out of excuses. Maybe it was simply because there didn't seem to be a good way to bring it up, as many times as Lance had tried to rehearse the conversation in his head. But he suspected that it was something more than that, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

Before he could ponder it much further, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor interrupted his train of thought. Pidge had stood up from the table, hastily tucking her tablet under one arm.

"Well," she said with a sigh. "I should probably get some sleep. See you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sleep sounds like a good idea," said Lance. "G'night, Pidge."

“Night.” Pidge gave them all one more tired smile before she walked out of the room with Rover trailing in the air behind her.

Lance watched after her, crossing his arms. As soon as the doors slid shut, he leaned forward to form a small, conspiratorial circle between himself, Hunk, and Keith.

“Guys … is it just me, or is Pidge acting super weird?” He kept his voice low on the off chance that she could hear him through the door.

Keith, still standing next to the table, frowned at the question. “Weird how?”

“I think she’s just upset about leaving, man,” Hunk said.

“I know, but I feel like there’s more to it than that. She’s been really cryptic about where she’s going. Like, I know she keeps saying she’s going to Zuleraan to do research with her brother, but every time I’ve asked her about it she kinda dodges the question.”

Hunk scratched his chin. “Hmm … yeah, I’ve kinda noticed that too. Wonder why that is.” His eyes widened. “Maybe she’s doing some kinda top-secret government research and like, helping to build a super-weapon or an army of clones or something.”

Normally Lance would have dismissed the suggestion, but at this point everything had been so crazy he was willing to believe just about anything.

“That, and I still don’t understand why she wants to leave from Galjor of all places,” he went on. “Like, there are transport hubs all over the place that have routes to Zuleraan … Why leave from the shadiest planet cluster in the universe?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the cheapest one?” Hunk suggested.

“Could be.” Lance slouched back in his chair. He had even more suspicions, but he didn’t want to come off as being weirdly paranoid over nothing.

Still, he remembered what had happened the other day when they’d all snuck onto that enemy ship … how Pidge had frozen up at the sight of the insignia on the side of it, almost as if she recognized it. That, and the nagging feeling he had that he had seen her somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where …

“Well, I should probably go re-route the ship and then head to bed,” Hunk said, breaking the silence with a yawn.

He stood, glancing between Keith and Lance with a meaningful look. Lance’s face burned. He knew Hunk was doing this on purpose, leaving him alone with Keith so he’d have the chance to say something about the talismans. Hopefully Keith didn’t notice him glaring daggers at Hunk, or the sheepish smile Hunk gave him in return.

“Anyway, good night!” Hunk said, promptly getting to his feet and backing towards the door. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, whistling as he went.

As soon as the doors closed, silence descended over the room. Lance drummed his fingers against the edge of the table, stubbornly refusing to look up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keith still standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Not knowing what else to do, Lance awkwardly got to his feet and leaned one hand on the table. “So,” he said.

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “So … ?”

“I––” Lance started to say, and then stopped short.

He’d internally practiced telling Keith about the talisman many times over the past few days, but every word he’d intended to say evaporated under Keith’s intense and inquisitive gaze.

“Um,” he said intelligently. He considered just taking the talisman out, no explanation. But then he didn’t know how he would follow up on that. Instead he just said, “Excited to go to Xannova tomorrow?”

Great … good job, Lance.

Keith’s eyebrows knitted together, and he stared at Lance for a second like he was trying to find a hidden meaning in the question. He shrugged. “I guess. Not that I know much about it. At least it’ll be a change of scenery.”

“True. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a major case of cabin fever from being stuck on this ship for so long. Plus, just about anything is better than being stuck on Rivlax.”

“Yeah, can’t say I miss being marooned on a planet made entirely of garbage.”

They both laughed a little, and something unexpected fluttered behind Lance’s sternum. It was funny––he had only met Keith a few days ago, but it felt like they’d known each other much longer. Maybe it was because of all the crazy things they’d been through together in such a short span of time.

Somehow, talking with Keith felt familiar and easy in a way Lance found a bit surprising. And in the past couple days, he’d found himself testing the waters, trying to see if he could draw a smile out of Keith here and there and feeling an enormous sense of triumph every time he was successful.

Lance always enjoyed making other people happy, but it was different with Keith, maybe because was more of a challenge. In any case, there was something that was particularly rewarding about earning a smile from him––the way he was smiling now––something about the crooked tilt to it and the glint in his eyes that made it feel like a secret between them.

Lance realized then that a long silence had stretched out between them, and he cleared his throat.

“Well, anyway,” he said hastily, “Xannova is a cool planet. I mean, literally, it’s kinda cold and windy. But also it’s an interesting place. A little seedy, but I like it there. Good trading market, too.”

He brought his rambling to a stop as he noticed the smile fading from Keith’s face. Quiznak. Had he said something wrong?

“Yeah, that uh––that sounds great,” Keith said. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck. He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Listen, I’ve been thinking …”

There was a nervous edge to his voice that put Lance on high alert. He stood up straight, staring at Keith as he waited for the rest of the sentence, but Keith had trailed off and was glaring down at the floor.

“Yeah?” Lance prompted, his pulse picking up a little.

Keith let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and then opening them again as he looked up and met Lance’s gaze.

“After we go to Xannova, when we go to the Galjor cluster to drop off Pidge, I think––I think I should probably leave, too.”

The words dropped like a bomb, and it took a second for Lance to process them. When he did, panic flared up in his chest.

“You … wait, what? No, no, no. You can’t leave!”

He blurted it out before he could stop himself, and then immediately felt heat rise into his face.

Keith’s eyes widened and then narrowed again, his brows drawing together in an incredulous frown. “Excuse me?”

“I––I mean. What about finding out who you are and all that stuff?” Lance stammered, mirroring Keith’s scowl. “You can’t even remember your own name. How do you plan on navigating around the universe by yourself?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“But where would you even go? How would you––”

“I don’t know, Lance!” Keith cut him off sharply, but recoiled when he saw the shocked look on Lance’s face. His frown faded, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I just ... I don’t expect you to really understand this, but I think it’d be better if I went off on my own.”

That particular choice of words made Lance fall silent, made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. It sounded so similar to what he’d told his mother when he’d left home, and the thought made a lump form in his throat. He did understand. He understood way more than Keith realized.

He was acutely aware of his talisman resting against his chest, of the way it rose and fell as he inhaled a deep breath and let it out again. Tell him.

"I ..." he started to say, but words immediately failed him. All he had to do was just say it, but no combination of words felt right. And now Keith was staring at him expectantly, which was making it even worse. Lance swallowed. "Okay," he said instead, defeated. "I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You've gotta go on some big journey of self-discovery, find out who you really are. I understand."

He mentally scolded himself for chickening out, but this just ... didn't feel like the right time and place. And he still had time, right? They still had a few more days until they got to the Galjor cluster.

Keith said nothing for a moment, shifting on his feet. “Oh,” he said at last, like he was surprised that Lance wasn’t trying to argue with him more. He cleared his throat. “Well … thanks. For understanding.”

Not knowing how else to respond, Lance forced a grin. “Of course, man. Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of you figuring out where you come from.” His smile dropped again. “I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t leave. I guess I was just …”

A hint of understanding sparked in Keith’s eyes, and he offered a weak smile in return. “Hey. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Lance tried to take those words to heart. But, well, it was hard to not worry about Keith when he’d nearly died like three times since Lance had met him. He didn’t want to say that out loud, though, so he just nodded in response.

“Okay. Yeah, I know.”

Keith watched him like he was waiting for Lance to say something else. When he didn’t, Keith released a long sigh.

“I’m going to head to bed. See you tomorrow.”

There was something lifeless about his tone that made Lance feel strange and cold, like the camaraderie they’d built up was suddenly gone.

“Oh … okay. Good night, Keith.”

“Good night.”

Keith pushed away from the wall and brushed past Lance without making eye contact. Lance didn’t turn to watch him go, but he heard Keith’s retreating footsteps and the sound of the doors sliding open and whirring shut again.

A moment passed as Lance continued to stand stiffly by the table, staring at the spot where Keith had been. When he deemed it safe enough, he sighed and reached under his shirt collar to pull his talisman out into the open.

The pendant rested comfortably in his hand, its golden rays spread across his palm. Lance scrutinized it as if he expected to see some new meaning in the blue gem at its center, but instead the sight of it only confused him more than ever. He closed his fist around it.

“Quiznak.”

—

Lance sat on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, one hand still toying with the talisman absently.

“You didn’t tell him?” Hunk exclaimed, sitting up on his bedroll on the floor. “Lance––”

“Hey, keep your voice down,” Lance hissed, eyeing the wall across from him.

Hunk had graciously given up his room to Keith so that he didn’t have to stay in the med bay anymore, and now Hunk was rooming with Lance––which Lance didn’t mind, especially considering how much time they’d spent sleeping over at each other’s houses as kids.

But first of all, Lance felt weirdly self-conscious about Keith staying in the room right next to his. And secondly––yes, Hunk was Lance’s best friend in the universe, but he really could not mind his own business. Them being roommates seemed to be worsening the problem.

“Okay, sorry,” Hunk said, speaking more quietly this time. He hugged a pillow to his chest. “But, dude. I left you two alone so that you could talk to him about the––” He glanced at the adjacent wall and then gave Lance a meaningful look, gesturing at the talisman.

Lance hunched his shoulders and closed both hands around the pendant like that would make Hunk forget about its existence.

“I know. I just didn’t––” Lance let out a frustrated sigh. “It didn’t feel like the right time, okay? I felt like I was being put on the spot, and then Keith started saying all this stuff about leaving …”

“Wait, what? Keith is leaving?” Hunk blurted, and then winced when he realized he’d spoken at too high a volume again. “Sorry, sorry. But, uh … what? When is he leaving? Where is he planning to go?”

Lance internally scolded himself for dropping that information, but it was too late now.

“I don’t think he knows,” he said with a sigh. “Or, I don’t know, maybe he has a plan he’s not telling me. But he said something about leaving at the same time Pidge does, when we get to Galjor.”

“Aw, man. Does he really think that’s a good idea? He doesn’t know who he is, and someone might be after him, and he doesn’t even have a ship …”

“That’s exactly what I told him!” Lance exclaimed in exasperation, and then realized he was the one raising his voice this time. He went on more quietly, “But I don’t want to stop him if that’s what he wants to do. I mean, I know what it’s like to want answers that badly.”

“Sure, but that’s probably not the best way to get them,” said Hunk, and then tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know, maybe he’ll change his mind if you tell him about the talisman.”

“Change his mind? About what?”

“Leaving.”

Oh. Lance took a moment to process the suggestion before he let out a small huff.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to seem like I’m forcing him to stay because of me. Or like I’m using him just to find some information about myself.”

“Ugh, Lance.” Hunk slapped a hand to his forehead, pushing his headband up a bit in the process. “You know it’s not like that, and I don’t think Keith would think so either.”

“I guess,” Lance muttered, but he wasn’t so sure. He suddenly had an empty feeling, realizing he was being irrational and yet unable to shake away his fears.

Hunk seemed to sense that Lance wanted him to back off, because he let out a defeated sigh.

“Okay. I’m not forcing you to do anything. I’m just saying that maybe if you tell him, he’ll want to stay, and the two of you can figure it out together, y’know? Or you can not tell him, and he’ll go wandering off into the universe and you’ll never see him again.”

Lance glared at him, and Hunk shrugged innocently.

“What? I’m just saying!”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Lance flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, chewing at his lower lip. “Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll tell him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk perk up. “You will?”

“Yeah. I don’t know when, but … soon.”

“Well, I mean, we only have a couple of days before we get to––”

“I know, Hunk.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I’ll drop it.” Hunk let out a yawn and lay down on his bedroll, pulling his blanket over himself. “Alright, time to get some shuteye before the big trip tomorrow. G’night, Lance. Love you.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

Lance reached for his bedside table and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into pitch darkness. Then he turned over onto his side, facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to sleep very well.

––

Lance’s feeling turned out to be correct. Although he managed to sleep fitfully, for the most part he found himself drifting in and out of his troubled thoughts. And it didn't help that Hunk snored.

Once morning arrived––or, well, what the digital clock on the bedside table deemed to be morning despite the lack of sunlight in space––Lance felt as if he had only managed to shut his eyes for a moment. But as tired as he was, in a way he was grateful to finally leave the confines of his bed and find something else to think about.

Hunk was already awake and bustling around in the cockpit when Lance wandered in. "Morning, Lance," he said cheerfully, tapping at the dashboard as a holographic map popped up in front of him.

"Morning," Lance returned with a long yawn. He propped an elbow on Hunk's shoulder, leaning over to get a better look at the map. "Where are we?"

"Sector 1134. Just about two vargas from Xannova."

"Oh man, we're that close? That doesn't give us a lot of time to prepare." Lance tapped his chin. "We've gotta get our stuff together. More importantly, I need to find something cool to wear."

"Priorities, Lance," Hunk said.

"Um, excuse me! Looking good is top priority, especially in Xannova."

Hunk chuckled. "Whatever you say, man." He typed a few more things into the keyboard in front of him, and a little light blipped on the map. "Okay, looks like everything's good to go. We just need to––" He stopped as he turned to look at Lance, his smile dropping. "You okay, Lance? You look really tired."

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Never been more awake," Lance replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Are you having trouble sleeping again? Nightmares?"

"I'm fine, Hunk," Lance reiterated, crossing his arms. "And no, no nightmares."

"Good." Hunk let out a relieved sigh, but then his eyes widened with sudden realization. "Oh, gosh. Was I snoring again? I told you, it's okay if you hit me with a pillow or––"

"No, it's not that. Really, Hunk. Don't worry about it." Lance squeezed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Guess I just have a lot on my mind, that's all."

He smile suddenly felt forced, and he looked away in the hopes that Hunk wouldn't see his change in expression.

"Yeah, I get that," said Hunk. "But hey, you know you can always talk to me if you need to."

"I know, buddy. I appreciate it."

And Lance meant it. He trusted Hunk more than just about anyone in the universe. But there were certain things he didn't even want to burden his best friend with, things he couldn't even begin to explain.

He cleared his throat, chasing away those thoughts for now. "Anyway, I'm gonna go wake up Keith and Pidge."

––

As it turned out, neither Keith nor Pidge were morning people or enjoyed being woken up with no notice. When they walked out of their rooms, beckoned by Lance’s incessant knocking, both emerged with their hair in disarray and blinking blearily into the light.

Keith at least looked slightly more alert, eyes darting up and down the hallway as his hand hovered near the knife at his waist. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, voice hoarse from sleep.

“You sleep with a knife?” Lance said, and then shook his head. “You know what? Never mind, I’m not surprised. Anyway, nothing is wrong. Well, except that we arrive in Xannova in about two vargas, so we only have that long to prepare ourselves.”

“And what exactly do we need to do to ‘prepare ourselves’?” Pidge asked, rubbing at her eyes.

“Well, I guess you guys could help me and Hunk get together some stuff to sell at the marketplace. But more importantly, I need to get you guys some clothes.”

Pidge frowned, looking down at the loose T-shirt she was wearing. “We’re already wearing clothes … ?”

“Right, but I mean cool clothes.”

Keith and Pidge exchanged a questioning look and then stared at Lance in bewilderment.

He slapped a hand against his forehead. “Ugh, am I the only one on this ship that cares about making a good impression? Look, Xannova is like, this big metropolis. We’ve gotta fit in with its cool, grungy aesthetic.”

When Keith and Pidge continued to stare at him like he’d spoken in another language, Lance let out an exasperated sigh. "Or, let me put it this way. It's kinda cold there. So you guys will probably need to borrow some jackets."

"Oh. Okay," Pidge said, and Keith shrugged in half-hearted agreement.

Well, at the very least Lance had convinced them that they needed a change in attire, even if it was purely for practical reasons. He led them over to his room, where he began digging through his closet in search of something fitting for each of them.

"Hmm ... this might work for you, Pidge. It's a little short on me, but it might fit you."

He pulled out a somewhat puffy dark green coat with a fur-lined hood and tossed it to her. Pidge caught it and held it out in front of her, examining it for a few seconds before trying it on. It was a little large, and she had to roll the sleeves up, but Pidge smiled when she saw her reflection in the rectangular mirror hanging next to the door.

Floating in the air next to her, Rover beeped approvingly.

“Hmm, it’s actually pretty cool,” said Pidge, sticking her hands in the large pockets.

“Glad you like it! You can keep it if you want. Like I said, it doesn’t really fit me.”

“Really? Thanks, Lance.” Pidge grinned in gratitude. “Okay, I think I’ll go ask Hunk if he needs help with anything. C’mon, Rover.”

She exited the room with her small droid following close behind her.

It wasn’t until she had already left that Lance realized he was now standing alone in the room with Keith, who was still hovering awkwardly by the doorway with his arms crossed. He wouldn’t look Lance in the eye––only glanced briefly at him before looking down at the floor.

“Um,” said Lance, and then remembered what he was supposed to be doing and hastily turned back to the closet. “Right. Let’s see what we have here …”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, taking a step towards the door. “You don’t have to … I can just wear this.”

“What? No.” Lance stopped rifling through his clothes long enough to shoot Keith a glare. “Like I keep telling you, it’s cold on Xannova. You’re gonna at least want a jacket.”

He pulled out a couple of different options, humming in indecision before his eyes fell on a bright patch of fabric among all the darker hues. He hesitated for a moment before reaching for it and holding it up in front of him. It was a bright red jacket that he’d only worn a handful of times and had almost forgotten he owned in the first place.

“What about this one?” he said, turning towards Keith. “I don’t think I can really pull off the color, but I think it might look––I mean, maybe you’d … um, here.”

He extended the jacket towards Keith, who observed it from across the small room with a spark of interest in his eyes. Keith stepped forward and reached for the bright garment cautiously, like he expected Lance to snatch it away at the last second. Then he took the jacket in his hands and stared down at it for a second before slipping his arms through the sleeves and shrugging it on.

Lance didn’t know exactly what he had expected, but he found himself strangely taken aback by the sight. He hadn’t anticipated that the jacket would fit Keith so well, or that the bright red would be such a striking contrast to his white hair and dark violet eyes …

“That bad?” Keith asked.

Lance blinked. “Huh?”

“The jacket. Is it that bad? You’re staring at it like it’s––” Keith was already tugging on one sleeve like he intended to pull the jacket off again.

“What? No. No, no.” Lance put his hands up, taking a step towards Keith without even thinking about it, and then stopped short. “I mean, it’s good. It’s … yeah.” He cleared his throat.

Keith gave him a sideways look but kept the jacket on. He fiddled a bit with the sleeves and adjusted the collar, then frowned and patted at something in the breast pocket. “What’s … ?” He tugged out the item, which was a rumpled dark red piece of cloth, and blinked at it in confusion.

“Oh, that.” Lance chuckled. “That’s a bandana. I went through a phase––well, I guess it was only like three days––where I wore it around my neck. Thought it made me look like a cool pirate or something. But then I stopped wearing it ‘cause Hunk said it looked stupid.”

As Lance spoke, Keith was already unfurling the bandana, folding it diagonally, and tying it loosely around his neck. “Like … this?” he said hesitantly.

“Y-Yeah,” Lance stammered. His voice came out strangely high-pitched and he quickly lowered it again. “Like that. Except it looked way cooler on me.”

Keith smirked a little. “Sure.”

That seemed to ease the tension a bit, and they exchanged a brief smile. Lance found his gaze lingering on Keith’s face, distracted again by the glint of his vibrant eyes and the slight curve of his mouth, then shifting to where his white hair curled slightly around his ears and …

“Whoa, wait a second.” Lance leaned forward a little, squinting at where he could see a minuscule hole dotting Keith’s earlobe. “Are your ears pierced?”

Keith reddened at Lance’s sudden scrutiny and looked away, a hand reaching up to touch one of his ears. “Huh? Oh. I guess so.”

“Dude,” Lance blurted, and then scrambled for something to say when Keith stared at him again. “I just––It’s funny, because I got my ear pierced a while back. Except, well, I got it done on some super sketchy planet and then I took horrible care of it, so it got like super gross and infected and I had to just take the earring out. But I still have the earring if you wanna wear it.”

He made the offer before he could think better of it, and then wondered if it had been an awkward thing to say. But the slight frown Keith gave him looked more confused than weirded out.

“Oh … okay?”

“I just thought maybe it’d like, complete your ‘look,’ you know?” Lance stammered. He ambled over to his dresser and started to dig through the items arranged on top of it, until he came across a tiny box made of teal glass. “I think maybe it’s––”

Sure enough, a tiny silver ring glinted back up at him, and he fished it out with a triumphant smile. “Ah-ha! Here.” He held it out towards Keith, offering it in the palm of his hand.

Keith stared at it for a moment as if he had no idea what to do with it. He glanced up at Lance’s face and then back again before reaching out and pinching two fingers around the earring to pick it up. After inspecting it briefly, he undid the clasp and pushed it through the tiny hole in his earlobe.

It looked more subtle on him than Lance had expected. Although his ears were partially hidden by his long hair, the gleam of the earring was still visible among the silvery strands.

“Whoa,” Lance said without thinking, and then quickly gathered his wits. “I mean … cool. I think you’ll definitely fit in with the Xannovan crowd now.”

“Uh, thanks.” Keith’s face looked a little red and he shifted on his feet like all he wanted to do was bolt from the room. “Anyway, I should probably …” He gestured towards the door.

“Oh. Okay.” Lance had a sudden heavy feeling in his stomach. Had he said something wrong? Made Keith uncomfortable somehow?

Without saying anything else, Keith started to walk past Lance and head for the door––but then he stopped, resting a hand against the doorframe as he turned back around.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I …” Keith drummed his fingers against the doorjamb. “I guess I just wanted to ask. Is everything okay? With us?”

“Us?” Lance repeated. His face started to feel warm. “What do you mean?”

Keith let out a short sigh. “You know. After what we talked about last night … I feel like I left things on a bad note. And I––I didn’t want to make it sound like I was just running off. Or like I was ungrateful for everything you––all you guys have done for me. Because I am grateful. It’s just …”

He wouldn’t make eye contact with Lance, and his brows furrowed together in … anger? Frustration? There was something about the way he’d rattled off the small speech that made Lance suspect he’d been rehearsing it in his head but didn’t know how to say it.

“Keith,” Lance said at last. “It’s okay. Like I told you, I get it. And yeah, everything is fine. We’re cool.” He tacked on a smile to show that he meant it.

Some of the tension fell from Keith’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He hesitated in the doorway like he wanted to say something else, but then started to turn away again.

“Hey,” Lance blurted. Keith stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at Lance inquisitively. And Lance scrambled for something to say, anything that might be somewhat reassuring.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said after a moment, offering another smile. “Let’s just focus on having a good time today, okay?”

That didn’t seem to be what Keith had expected to hear, judging by the blank and somewhat bewildered look on his face. But then, hesitantly, he smiled back.

“Okay,” he said. “See you, Lance.” He stepped out of the room and disappeared into the hallway.

Lance just stood there, listening to his retreating footsteps. For some reason, he half-expected Keith to come back––but after a few seconds of silence, it was clear that wasn’t the case.

Feeling oddly disappointed, Lance turned back to the closet and tried to concentrate on choosing something to wear.

––

They arrived in Xannova’s atmosphere a little less than two vargas later as predicted, after the frantic process of everyone getting ready––eating breakfast, getting all the wares arranged in their large crates, Hunk and Lance triple-checking the coordinates and making sure the ship was prepared for landing.

As they started their gradual descent, Keith waited in the small loading area outside the cockpit along with Hunk and Pidge. He stayed a small distance from them, leaning against the wall and fiddling with the bandana around his neck.

Hunk had just finished putting one of the crates down on the floor, and then straightened up again and grinned at Keith. “Whoa, dude. You look really cool.”

Heat rose to Keith’s face. “Oh … thanks. So do you.”

Hunk had changed his outfit as well, and was now dressed in a brown leather jacket with bright red stripes above the breast pockets. He’d still kept on his orange headband as usual, though.

He scratched the back of his head. “Aww. Thanks, Keith. Really, though. That bandana makes you look like a cool ninja or something. Lance tried that look for like two days once but he looked––”

“I can hear you, you know!” Lance called from the cockpit.

Keith chuckled. “Yeah, he told me you weren’t really a fan of it.”

“Yeah, not really,” Hunk said with a smirk, and then squinted. “Wait, are you also wearing Lance’s earring?”

Something about Hunk phrasing it that way made Keith’s face burn. He reached up to touch the small ring. “Uh, yeah … ?”

“Oh, man. I almost forgot Lance got his ear pierced that one time. It was in this super sketchy place on Kerrium, and––okay, we’d probably had a little too much nunvil––”

“Ah-hem,” Lance said loudly. He had suddenly appeared in the doorway to the cockpit, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. “Are you done telling all my embarrassing life stories, or … ?”

Hunk scoffed. "Oh, you know I'm never done doing that."

"Well, two can play at that game 'cause I sure have a lot of embarrassing stories about y––"

"Hey, guys?" Pidge cut them off. She adjusted the goggles on her head and fiddled with the zipper on her green jacket. "Sorry to interrupt, but ... we're landing pretty soon, right? What exactly is our plan?"

"Right, the plan," Lance said, clapping his hands together. "Well, the main thing is that Hunk and I need to pick up a shipment from this guy, Orjak. And then we have some of this other stuff we've been trying to get off our hands." He gestured towards the crates at their feet.

"So, we should probably grab a booth in the center of the marketplace and try to sell some stuff. Otherwise, I don't think we really have anything else planned. We should probably just leave some time to explore the city, look around a bit, especially since neither of you has seen it before."

Pidge shrugged. "Okay, sounds neat."

Keith realized all of a sudden that he'd been silent this whole conversation, watching Lance as he spoke. Lance had put on another one of his multitude of jackets––this one a little flashier than the ones Keith had seen him wear before. It was a dark shade of blue and very form-fitting, zipped all the way up to his neck and accentuating the breadth of his shoulders. The leathery material was layered in parallel, overlapping panels down the sides, almost like a suit of armor.

It didn't occur to Keith that he was staring until his eyes wandered to the holster at Lance's hip, and he noticed the small weapon sticking out of it.

"You're bringing a gun?" he blurted.

"What? Oh." Lance gave him an odd look, before realization crossed his face. He patted a hand against the pistol. "No, no. Just a stun gun. Probably won't need to use it, but––" He shrugged. "As I mentioned, Xannova can get a little seedy. Wouldn't want to take any risks. Besides, you're one to talk, Mr. I Carry a Knife Everywhere."

"That's––" Keith's hand flew to the scabbard at his waist, closing over the handle on instinct. "That's different."

Before they could argue any longer, the ship rocked a bit and they all stumbled a little. A high-pitched whirring noise sounded from outside.

"Okay, I think we're getting near to the port," said Lance. "I'm gonna take Blue off auto-pilot and steer her into a good landing spot. Hunk, I might need your help."

"You got it, Lance."

As the two of them walked into the cockpit, Lance looked at Keith and Pidge over his shoulder. "You guys might wanna join us in here, too. The view of the city from above is pretty awesome!"

All four of them gathered into the cockpit. Outside the domed windshield, thick silvery clouds surrounded the ship, obscuring the sky.

"Yeah, cool view," Keith commented dryly.

"Well, we can't see it yet. Hold your horses, Keith," Lance huffed as he sat down in the piloting seat and took hold of the controls.

Hunk sat down in the co-pilot seat and his hands started flying over the dashboard in front of him, pressing buttons and flicking switches. He gave Lance a thumbs-up and Lance returned the gesture with a nod.

"Okay, we're good to go. Hang on, everyone."

Blue started to tip forward, angling down through the clouds. Keith felt his stomach drop as their descent began, and he instinctively grabbed onto the back of Lance's chair to steady himself. As the ship began to speed up, the clouds dissipated in thin wisps, flitting across the windshield until they broke out into the open.

And, well ... Lance had been right. The view of Xannova was pretty spectacular from above, and Keith couldn't help but gasp sharply at the sight of it. Although Lance had described the planet's massive cities, it was entirely different seeing them in person. The cityscape sprawled the surface of the planet beneath them from horizon to horizon, practically glowing with its own inner light.

An eclectic array of buildings rose up from the ground in densely crowded clusters. Some were sleek and tall, while others twisted in strange helix shapes, or looked like enormous stacks of haphazard metal boxes. Long catwalks and railroad tracks connected the buildings in an intricate web, and ships of numerous shapes and sizes buzzed in the air over the city like swarming insects. Keith felt a bit dizzy just from staring at it, not knowing where to even look first.

"Wow!" Pidge had rushed forward to put her hands on the dashboard, leaning as close to the windshield as she could until her feet almost lifted off the floor. "You weren't kidding. This is an amazing view. Isn't it cool, Rover?"

The droid hovered up to the glass and made an enthusiastic beeping noise in response.

"They must have such cool tech on this planet," Pidge went on, eyes scanning over the cityscape.

"Oh yeah, trust me, they do," said Hunk with a grin. "You're gonna love it, Pidge."

Keith wasn't so sure he'd get as much enjoyment out of it, and he felt an inkling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Although the city was impressive, the thought of being in such a crowded space with so much light and sound ... His head already ached a bit at the thought.

But it wasn't like there was any chance to turn back now. The ship had already lowered enough that they were practically skimming the roofs of the buildings, and Lance slowed Blue down a little so he could maneuver her between the towers.

Now that they were closer, Keith could see that there were numerous holographic screens hovering in the air between the buildings––some of them several stories high––flashing with colorful advertisements and messages written in some alien language that he couldn't comprehend. Silver trains zipped by on the hovering rails below them, and creatures of countless species crowded the walkways.

"Okay, just a little further until we get to the port. It's straight up ahead," Lance announced.

Keith looked down and saw the area Lance was indicating. There was an enormous metallic structure up ahead, around which dozens of ships were gathering. It was shaped like a semi-circle, divided into sections like a gigantic beehive. This seemed to be where the ships were docking, each of them landing in a different empty space.

Lance eased up on Blue's controls a little as they drew closer. They floated past a multitude of occupied parking spaces, until they finally came to an empty spot. Lance whooped in triumph as he steered the ship into it.

Once Blue had come to a rumbling stop, they all disembarked down her gangway into the echoey metal chamber in which they'd landed. Lance and Hunk each carried one of the crates they'd sorted out, taking the lead as Keith and Pidge followed after them.

At the edge of the open landing area, there was a faded green button on the wall, which Lance pressed with his elbow. The button lit up with a dim glow, and a moment later there was a loud whirring noise as a cylindrical glass elevator rose up next to them.

"Alright, here we go," Lance said eagerly. He stepped onto the elevator as soon as its transparent doors slid open.

All four of them crowded inside, and the door slid shut again. It was a tight squeeze––especially with the two large crates Lance and Hunk were holding in front of them––and Keith had to inch backwards until he was pressed against the glass. Almost as soon as they'd all managed to fit themselves into the elevator, it made a buzzing sound and started to descend.

Keith winced and continued to press himself up against the wall, disturbed by the sensation of dropping from the sky with only glass separating them from the outside. But after a few moments, he dared to crack one eye open and then the other. And when he did, he was in awe of what he saw.

It had been one thing to see the city from far above, but it was even more incredible to observe it as they were slowly descending into the heart of it––the towering buildings rising up around them like a glowing forest, with ships and trains zipping between them in a dizzying display.

Pidge practically had her face pushed up against the glass, grinning excitedly at the sight while Rover hovered over her shoulder and made happy trilling noises.

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Lance said. He looked up at the city with an awestruck smile, the bluish light from outside illuminating his face in a way that his eyes practically seemed to glow––and Keith found himself staring with as much fascination as he’d been watching the city moments earlier.

He snapped out of it as soon as they touched the ground and the doors of the elevator slid open. Everyone filed out, and Keith mentally shook himself and followed after them.

They stepped out into a crowded plaza, where aliens of all different species were bustling about. Many of them were carrying crates and boxes like Lance and Hunk were doing, some of them pushing carts or carrying large bags over their shoulders. This seemed to be a hub where travelers came and went, and it was permeated with a frenzied energy.

Lance led their way through the crowd, off to the left to an area where many other travelers seemed to be flocking. Keith craned his neck to peer through the crowd, and saw that up ahead were rows upon rows of large black hoverbikes. Aliens were climbing onto them and zipping away into the crowd, while others were busy loading their luggage onto them first.

When they finally managed to elbow their way through the crowd, Lance led the way towards one of the parked bikes and put his crate down on the ground. Keith stepped up to his side to admire the vehicle, eyes flitting over its sleek and shiny surface, and the glowing blue stripes that ran along its sides.

There was some kind of meter standing on a pole next to it, with a digital display on its surface and a small slot. Lance squinted at it and groaned. “Ten gac? I swear it’s more expensive every time.” He reached into this pocket and fumbled to fish some coins out.

“Are we all supposed to fit on this thing?” Pidge asked, standing next to the bike and looking it up and down.

“We’ll make it work.” Lance inserted a silver coin into the meter, which made a small beeping noise. “We could get two of them, but I’m not gonna cough up the extra ten gac, so …”

As soon as the meter had accepted the money, the hoverbike whirred to life, the stripes on its sides glowing brightly as it rose several inches off the ground. Lance picked up his crate again and walked around to the back of the vehicle, where a large box-like contraption was attached. He opened its lid and lowered the crate into it, and Hunk did the same with his own crate before Lance closed the compartment again.

"Okay, we're all set," he said, patting the back of the hoverbike. "Everyone hop on!"

Lance jumped on first, situating himself at the handlebars. Hunk climbed after him and scooted forward, making room for Keith and Pidge. Keith hesitated for a moment before putting his foot up on the side of the bike and hoisting himself up, swinging a leg over it. He reached a hand down to Pidge, who seemed to be having some difficulty scrambling onto the back of the vehicle.

"Thanks, Keith." Pidge grinned at him and took hold of his hand, pulling herself up behind him. She tucked Rover under one arm. "Hang tight, little buddy." The droid made a low disgruntled noise but stayed in place.

"Everybody ready?" Lance asked, to which the other three gave their affirmation. "Then here we go."

Keith caught a glimpse of Lance's wicked grin in the small rearview mirror attached to the bike's handlebars. Then, with no further warning, they shot forward.

Crying out in alarm, Keith grabbed onto the back of Hunk's jacket to keep himself from flying off the back of the bike. Similarly, Pidge let out a yelp behind him and threw a small arm around Keith's torso. Rover made a high-pitched, elongated noise that was probably the closest sound to a scream that a tiny robot could make.

"Lance, think you could slow down a little?" Hunk yelled over the rush of noise around them.

Lance just laughed as he leaned over the handlebars, dodging his way through the crowded plaza. Keith cringed as they wove their way between the narrow gaps between clusters of people. But judging by their lack of any reaction, apparently the Xannovans were used to having hoverbikes speed right past them. That, and despite how fast they were going, Lance seemed to have perfect control over the vehicle––artfully navigating their way through the maze without the slightest hesitation.

As they continued their ride into the city, Keith felt a spark of excitement in his chest. Now that he was fairly certain that Lance wasn't going to get them all killed, he decided this was actually ... fun. Thrilling. His grip on Hunk's jacket loosened, and he found himself laughing a little just from the pure adrenaline rush, from the sensation of the wind blowing through his hair and the sight of the city glowing all around them.

They soon made it out of the plaza and onto a wide street, which was crowded with other vehicles whirring past. Keith observed the passersby walking the perimeters of the road, fascinated by the diversity of alien species. Many were human-like in appearance, although with colorful skin tones or a few extra pairs of limbs. Others had more animalistic features––Keith didn't get a very close look due to the speed they were traveling, but he caught glimpses of fur, horns, and scales.

Finally, they turned a corner into a wide open space not unlike the plaza from which they'd recently departed. But this was more clearly some type of marketplace––an enormous square lined on all sides with shops and booths. He didn't even know where to look first. There were so many large signs, glowing letters written in a myriad of alien languages. The noise of conversation and traffic and strange music all blended into a roar.

Lance pulled their hoverbike to a stop at the edge of the crowd, turning to look back at the others.

"Okay, so, Hunk and I have to go meet up with Orjak," he said. "Keith and Pidge, you're free to come along, but it might not be super interesting for you guys. We'll just be picking some stuff up from him and maybe trading a few things. If you wanna just hop off and explore a little ..."

Keith turned to exchange a questioning look with Pidge, who shrugged. "Exploring sounds good."

"Cool. Hopefully it won't take us too long, but we'll be right over there." Lance pointed across the square to a row of booths with large violet letters flashing over them, written in some language that Keith couldn't read.

Keith and Pidge both slid off the hoverbike. Pidge let go of Rover, who wobbled slightly in the air and made a series of low warbling noises.

"Oh, be quiet," Pidge scolded the droid. "It's impossible for you to be motion sick!"

Rover made a sound that probably indicated something rude, judging by the immediate frown on Pidge's face. Keith couldn't help but laugh a little.

"See you guys! Don't get lost," Lance called over his shoulder, and steered the bike back into the midst of the crowd.

With nothing but that sage advice to follow, Keith and Pidge started to weave their way through the square. Keith tried not to lose track of Pidge in the crowd––especially because she was such a short person among so many tall aliens. Luckily Rover was always close by, floating above her.

As they wandered, Keith observed the tents they passed, where merchants were selling their wares. Some booths were much flashier than others, patterned with bright colors and dangling lights, while others were more subdued. The scent of cooking filled the air––something that smelled deep-fried, but with a strange and almost tangy undertone to it. Just as Keith was starting to think it actually smelled kind of good, they passed a food cart where an alien was handing out what looked like six-legged fried rats on sticks, and he immediately changed his mind.

Keith shuddered, pulling his jacket closer to his body. Lance had been right about the weather on Xannova; the air was crisp and cool, and wind kept sweeping through the square in sporadic gusts. He'd also been right about the––what had Lance called it?––aesthetic of the city, judging by the myriad of fashion Keith saw around him.

Many of the creatures were wearing high-collared jackets and long pants with battered knees. Some wore loud patterns while others were dressed in less drastic colors, but there was a certain similarity to their clothes that made Keith grateful that he had changed his outfit, after all. Maybe Lance had made a good point about blending in with the local population.

Keith realized then that he’d gotten distracted in his train of thought, and in doing so had lost track of Pidge. Oh, no. He stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to try and find any sign of her or Rover anywhere––but it was almost impossible to see through the throng, especially when so many of the aliens were much taller than him.

He turned in a slow circle, and jumped a little when he found himself facing a booth covered in mirrors––some dangling from the roof, others propped around its exterior. He found himself staring at his own reflection in curiosity, since he hadn’t yet taken the time to really look at the whole ensemble. And, well, he had to admit to himself that he kind of liked the red jacket.

Now wasn’t time to get distracted, though. Keith quickly turned away and walked a few feet further––but stopped again as something flashed in the corner of his eye.

When he looked over to the booth at his right, he saw a long black table where an array of knives were arranged. Feeling a spark of interest, he ambled over to get a closer look, eyes flitting over the blades of various shapes and sizes.

His attention was immediately drawn to one knife to his left, which was about the length of his forearm and slightly curved. The blade had a light gold sheen to it that made it almost seem to glow.

Fascinated, Keith reached for it and picked it up by the handle, turning it over in his hands. He was amazed to find that where the light hit it, it glinted with a subtle rainbow hue.

“40 gac,” a voice said.

Keith blinked in surprise, looking up. He’d been so distracted by the knives themselves that he’d barely noticed the figure standing behind the table––a green alien with six arms, casually twirling a knife in each hand. Silver earrings dangled from his large pointed ears, which protruded from either side of his bald head.

“What?” Keith said intelligently.

The alien studied Keith with his yellow reptilian eyes, his wide mouth stretching into an unsettling smile. “I said, 40 gac. And don’t even think about stealing, ‘cause I’m a champion knife thrower.”

He suddenly stopped twirling one of the knives and pointed it right at Keith’s face, then chuckled when Keith took a step back. “Just kiddin’. But seriously, don’t touch what you don’t intend to buy.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Keith put the knife he back on the table.

“S’alright. I don’t blame you. She’s a beauty.” The alien nodded towards the knife. “She’s forged from a rare metal from the center of Nolroid. Super lightweight, but it can cut through bone.”

“Uh … wow,” Keith said. Truthfully, that description did pique his interest, but he also needed to leave this booth before he got totally separated from the others.

Before he could inch away, though, the alien gave him a narrow-eyed glare. He leaned an elbow against the table, looking Keith up and down with suspicion. “You a collector? Or maybe something more interesting … a bounty hunter? You do have kind of a ‘silent assassin’ vibe going on.”

“A … what?” Keith said, and then quickly shook his head. “Never mind, I should probably––” He was about to walk away, when something suddenly occurred to him.

“Actually … can I ask you about something?” Keith reached for the handle of the knife at his waist, slowly drawing it out of its scabbard and laying it flat across his palms to show to the alien behind the table. “Do you know anything about this? What type of knife it is?”

Maybe it was a long shot, and identifying the knife wouldn’t necessarily tell him anything about who he was, but maybe it would at least be a starting point.

The alien glanced down at it with a neutral expression––but after looking at it for a few moments, he stiffened. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he sobered again.

“Where did you get that?” He asked the question with forced nonchalance, but Keith could detect the strain behind it.

Keith backed up a step, suddenly wary. “I––I don’t know. I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” Granted, he could only remember the past five days or so, but he figured that was an insignificant detail. “Why, do you know anything about it?”

The alien’s gaze flicked from Keith’s face to the knife outstretched in his hands and back again. “Nope,” he said. “Never seen anything like it. Probably worthless. But hey, if you want me to just take it off your hands, I can pay you 10 gac for it.”

“Wait, what? No.” Keith frowned, sheathing the knife again and keeping a protective hand over it. “I’m not selling it. I was just––”

“Alright, 20 gac. That’s my final offer, though.”

There was now a barely-hidden greed in the alien’s eyes that made Keith suspicious, and he backed away from the table. “Never mind,” he said gruffly, and turned around.

“Fine, it’s your loss!” the knife merchant called after him. “No one else is gonna offer you a single gac for that piece of junk!”

Keith ignored him, marching off into the crowd. Part of him regretted walking away, since he suspected that the alien had known something about the knife. But he could probably find that information from someone a little more … trustworthy.

He was so busy stewing in his thoughts, he almost walked right past Pidge––and then spotted her at a nearby booth, fawning over whatever was on the table and saying something excitedly to Rover.

As Keith walked over to join them, he squinted to try and get a better look at what Pidge was so interested in. When he drew closer, he could see the glint of metal under the canopy, and figured that Pidge was obsessing over some type of technology. When he saw what exactly it was, though, he froze in his tracks.

On the table was a display of robotic prosthetics––some that resembled human arms and legs, others that were long and spindly like insect limbs. All of them looked very intricate, with complex joints and gears. The tall orange alien standing at the booth sported a metallic arm himself. He extended his hand out, proudly flexing the robotic fingers as Pidge observed it in awe.

Keith remained at a slight distance, eyes fixed on the prosthetic limb. He couldn’t stop staring at it, and not just because it was an impressive work of machinery. There was something about it that sparked his attention, itching at the corners of his mind.

The longer he stared at the robotic arm, the more intense the feeling became, until the noisy city square started to fade around the edges. The aliens crowding the marketplace, the flashing lights, the distant music … It all seemed to slow down and come to an abrupt halt, as Keith was dragged unwillingly into the depths of his mind.

––

A hazy figure stood at the top of a small hill, slowly shifting into focus in his mind’s eye. The person was a few inches taller than Keith, his back turned as he gazed out at whatever was beyond the hilltop. The sky overhead was clouded and growing dark as night approached, but there was still enough faint light to see by.

Keith walked up the hill to stand at the figure’s side. He kept a small distance between them, quietly clearing his throat to make his presence known.

The person turned around at the noise, and Keith finally saw him face-to-face––a man with a pair of warm brown eyes, jet black hair, a strong and imposing figure that was juxtaposed by the kindness in his expression.

He offered Keith a small smile, although Keith could see a barely-masked pain underneath it. It was a face he knew well enough to detect even its smallest hint of distress. A face he knew almost as well as his own.

Shiro. The name surfaced in his mind, warm and familiar.

“Hey,” Keith said, and the one word sounded so flat that he mentally cringed. But he didn’t know what else to say. His eyes involuntarily wandered to stare at Shiro’s right arm, which gleamed silver in the falling light.

Shiro also looked down at it, slowly curling the metal fingers into a fist, then letting it drop to his side like he didn’t know what else to do with it. “Hey,” he echoed. There was something almost like quiet amusement in his tone, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the strain in his smile.

Keith couldn’t bring himself to smile back. Something tightened deep in his chest: a knot of pain and sadness that wouldn’t untangle itself.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

Shiro took a moment to answer. He continued to clench and unclench his prosthetic fingers at his side as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Well … it’ll take some getting used to.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “But hey, I’m alive. That’s all that matters.”

Keith’s jaw tightened as he looked out over the crest of the hill. The city gleamed below them, its dark towers silhouetted against the cloudy sky.

He tried to banish the dark memory from his mind, but he couldn’t help but flash back to it, remembering everything with burning clarity. He could still hear the ear-splitting crack of the bomb going off, see the blinding flash of light. He hadn’t processed until long moments later that he was lying on the marbled floor, that someone had pushed him out of the way.

And he knew he’d never be able to forget what came next––the slow moments of awakening as he’d pried his eyes open to smoke and dust, choking and gasping. The deadly silence before the first cries of horror and anguish arose. Then, lifting himself up, he’d seen the figure half-buried in the rubble only a few feet away from him, completely motionless, dust gathering in his black hair and coating his armor.

Keith had cried out then, in a voice so wrecked with pain and desperation that it hardly sounded like his own. He could remember rising from the floor, body numb and ears ringing, running and falling to his knees. Shouts all around him. Figures crowding in from all sides. His mother’s shaking arms encircling him, holding him back as he watched Shiro’s fellow guards pull him free of the wreckage. And the blood … all the blood …

“I thought you were dead,” he said now. He hadn’t really meant to say the words aloud, but now they hung intensely in the air between them as he watched a pained expression seep into Shiro’s eyes.

“I know,” Shiro said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

And Keith might have almost laughed if it wasn’t for the circumstances, because it was just like Shiro to apologize for almost dying.

Instead he said, “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

He’d been carrying the guilt ever since the explosion, like an open wound in his chest. It was now worsened by the sight of Shiro’s prosthetic arm, knowing that the sight of it would always be a painful reminder.

“Of course I did,” Shiro said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you could’ve gotten killed because of me. If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way––”

“Then you’d be dead, Akira,” Shiro cut him off, with an intensity that silenced Keith immediately. After a moment, he let out a shaking sigh and put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I swore an oath to protect the royal family with my life.”

Keith stared intently at the landscape below them, arms crossed and jaw set. He knew he wasn’t being fair or rational. He knew that Shiro’s duty was to protect him and his parents. And now that an attempt had been made on their lives, there was a greater risk than ever of Shiro getting hurt––or worse––to save them from harm.

But it didn’t change the fact that Shiro was his best friend, and that the thought of losing him was so terrifying that imagining it made him feel like he’d been shoved off a steep precipice.

“Besides,” Shiro went on, squeezing Keith’s shoulder. “I guess this is payback in a way, isn’t it?” When Keith gave him a quizzical look he explained, “I gave you that scar. So, guess we’re even now.”

Keith instinctively touched the scar by his jawline, staring at Shiro in bewilderment. “That’s different,” he said. “It was an accident.”

“So was this,” said Shiro.

As much as Keith wanted to protest, he thought better of it. It was only going to go in circles––and if this was the way Shiro was choosing to cope, Keith didn’t want to take that away from him.

“Listen.” Shiro let out another heavy sigh, his grip still tight on Keith’s shoulder. “I just wanted to say, in case anything ever happens to me––”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Keith said. It came out a little more sharply than he meant it to, but it was too late to take it back now.

Shiro hesitated, his brow furrowing as he carefully chose his words. “I’m not saying that it will. But I just wanted you to know … I didn’t save you because it was my job.” He paused for another moment, and now Keith could see that his eyes were starting to well up. “I saved you because you’re my brother, Akira.”

Keith’s vision blurred, and he didn’t even care when he felt the tears start to spill out, or when a shuddering breath escaped him almost in a sob. He and Shiro had been through so much together, had been close friends since Shiro had joined the guard when Keith was still a little kid. Keith had considered him family for years now, but it still meant a lot to hear it from Shiro himself––someone who he admired so much, whose friendship and support meant the world to him.

Without giving any sort of warning, Keith surged forward to hug him, burying his face against Shiro’s shoulder. He felt Shiro tense for a moment before a pair of solid arms wrapped around him, returning the embrace.

“You’re my brother, too,” Keith said quietly, voice muffled and choked with emotion. “I love you, Shiro.” It was something he hadn’t said nearly enough times. He was determined now to say it at every given opportunity. After what had happened, he never knew when it was going to be his last chance.

Shiro’s arms tightened around him and he patted Keith affectionately on the back. “I love you, too,” he said.

Keith closed his eyes and kept leaning into the embrace, into Shiro’s solid and comforting warmth, and silently swore an oath to himself. Although he and Shiro weren’t bound by blood, Keith truly felt that they were family now. And as family, they had to protect each other.

He was never going to let anything like this happen to Shiro again.

––

“… Keith? Keith.”

A voice pulled him back to the present, and Keith blinked several times before he remembered where he was. The bustling city market seemed to come back in pieces, the rush of noise washing over him like an ocean wave.

He felt as if he’d temporarily detached from his body, and he swayed on his feet as the sensation returned to his limbs. Luckily, someone was holding onto his arm. As the disorientation faded, Keith looked down to find Pidge standing next to him, staring up at him with large worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. “I turned around and saw you just standing here looking like you’d seen a ghost. Did something happen?”

“I––” Keith started to say, but it was an effort even to get the one word out. The world around him felt too harsh and bright––too many loud noises and flashing lights all running together into a maddening roar.

The memory he’d just unburied kept flooding back through his mind, almost too sharp in its clarity, like staring straight into a bright light. And every little piece of it seemed to unfold into something new, each painful image a hydra that sprouted ten more bloodthirsty heads.

This wasn’t how he had wanted to remember. He had wanted it to come back bit by bit, giving him some room to process, to breathe. Instead it was all hitting him at once, and he couldn’t run from it no matter how he tried. The morbid imagery kept snaking its way upwards from the depths of oblivion until it consumed him.

He found himself grabbing Pidge by the shoulders, hardly noticing when she yelped in surprise.

“Where––” His voice came out rough and harsh, and he had to take a second to inhale and try to clear away some of the dizziness that had overtaken him. “Where’s Lance and Hunk?”

“Whoa, Keith. Slow down for a second.” Pidge frowned. “Do you need to find somewhere to sit down or something? You look like you’re about to fall over.” Rover floated up beside her, making a concerned beeping noise in agreement.

Keith impatiently waved the droid away as it hovered close to his face. “I’m fine,” he insisted, although that was far from true. He was shaking all over and felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. “I just––I need to––”

He couldn’t even form an explanation. Before Pidge could question him, he turned on his heel and ran back into the crowd.

“You need to what? Keith, wait up!” he heard Pidge yell behind him, but he didn’t slow down.

As he elbowed through the throng, Keith hardly felt the bodies jostling him from all sides or heard the cries of protest as he shoved his way past. His focus was narrowed to reaching the opposite side of the marketplace where Lance and Hunk had been heading earlier. He could only pray that they were still somewhere in that area.

As if in answer to his silent plea, right then he spotted a dark blue jacket to his left and turned to see Lance casually strolling through the crowd with his hands in his pockets.

Keith’s breath caught. “Lance!” he called out and stumbled towards him.

At the sound of his name, Lance turned and grinned at Keith. Despite the circumstances, Keith felt a temporary relief flood through him just at the familiar sight of Lance’s face in a sea of strangers.

“Hey, man! I was just looking for you. Hunk still had a couple things he wanted to ask Orjak but I got bored and––”

The end of his sentence was cut off as Keith practically ran into him and grabbed him by the arm. The force of the movement caused Lance to lurch forward––and that combined with someone simultaneously bumping into him from behind made him almost knock his forehead against Keith’s, but he managed to right himself at the last second.

“Whoa, dude,” he said, his smile falling. “What are you doing? And where’s Pidge? Is everything okay?”

Keith tried to form words, but he felt like a hand was tightening around his throat. All he could do was stand there, breathing hard and clutching onto Lance’s sleeve like it was a lifeline. “I …” he managed to say at last, but it came out as barely more than a croak. “I’m …”

“Hey.” Lance’s voice was suddenly serious, and he placed his hands on Keith’s upper arms in a steadying grip. Keith hadn’t noticed until then that they were standing practically eye-to-eye. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“I think I just remembered who I am,” Keith said.

The words came out in a rush, almost overlapping the end of Lance’s question. As soon as he’d spoken, Keith felt the weight of the confession fall over both of them like an avalanche, saw the way Lance’s eyes slowly widened as he processed what Keith had just said.

Lance stared at him. He kept his hands on Keith’s arms but leaned back a little, blinking.

“You … did? Oh. Uh, okay,” he stammered. He looked around them as if seeking out guidance, before he looked back at Keith with a slight frown. “So …”

“Not here,” Keith managed to say. His mouth felt dry and there was a loud rushing in his ears. He was still breathing hard from running through the crowd, still dizzy from the memories flooding his mind. “I––I can’t––”

Lance’s frown of concern deepened. “Keith? What’s wrong?”

And suddenly, everything came into sharp focus. Keith gripped Lance by the forearms, looking him straight in the eye.

“My name’s not Keith,” he said. “It’s––”

Right then, a loud siren blared from overhead.

––

Lance had heard enough alarms in the past few days that it almost shouldn’t have been surprising. But especially after everything he’d been through recently, the sound immediately put him on high-alert. He instinctively tightened his grip on Keith’s arms and pulled him a little closer, looking up for the source of the noise.

Far above them, all of the large holographic screens hovering between the buildings started to flicker. The colorful advertisements gave way to a flashing message in green text, written in alien symbols.

Whatever the warning message was, it had an immediate effect on the crowd below. All of the movement and chatter died down abruptly as everyone turned and looked up at the screens closest to them. Beneath the wail of the sirens, there were murmurs of confusion and cries of fear throughout the crowded marketplace.

Lance felt something brush against his shoulder and he looked up to find Hunk standing next to him. Pidge appeared at his elbow a moment later, wheezing as she caught her breath.

“Lance! Keith! Thank goodness we found you,” Hunk exclaimed. He had his hands clapped over his ears to block out the ear-splitting noise. “What the heck is going on?”

Before Lance could answer––not that he would have been able to, anyway––a booming voice sounded throughout the city square.

“Attention citizens. This is Emperor Zarkon of Daibazaal.”

Lance hadn’t realized until then that he was still gripping Keith’s arms, and he felt Keith immediately stiffen upon hearing that name. He let his hands fall to his sides as Keith took a step backwards.

An alien with a skeletal face had appeared on all of the holographic screens. His glowing purple eyes stared emotionlessly forward, and his thin slash of a mouth was set in a grim line. Although he was only visible from the shoulders up, he appeared to be wearing an imperial helmet and armor of some kind, with a cape clasped around his shoulders.

“I bring you an important message––a warning as well as a call to action. I urge all of you to listen carefully,” Zarkon continued. Despite his words, his tone remained stoic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw Keith take another step back as if he were trying to shrink into the crowd. When Lance turned to look at him, he saw that Keith’s eyes were wide with horror. He seemed to recognize this Zarkon guy––and judging by the way Keith’s face had turned several shades paler, he wasn’t good news.

“As you may be aware,” said Zarkon, “the late Empress and Emperor, Krolia and Ryou Kogane, were assassinated several movements ago.”

The image on the screens shifted to show a photograph of a man and woman descending a wide set of stairs. The woman was several inches taller than the man and, more noticeably, had lavender skin and pointed ears. The man appeared to be human; he had pale skin and dark brown hair, and wore a serious expression as he gazed at something outside of the frame. Both were dressed in dark purple armor with glowing insignias on their chests.

The crowd became visibly uncomfortable at the mention of the pair’s murder, as waves of shifting and murmuring swept over the marketplace. Under all the noise, Lance heard Keith gasp sharply.

Zarkon’s face appeared on the screen again, his face still expressionless and gaze unfaltering. “On the night of their tragic deaths, the heir to the throne mysteriously vanished. I have taken up the mantle of Emperor in his stead, as former Commander of the imperial army and a close friend of the Koganes.

“With the aid of my experienced advisors, I have been investigating this devastating crime and searching for the culprit. And shortly after the murder transpired, we managed to capture one perpetrator––former captain of the royal guard, Takashi Shirogane.”

Again, the image on the screens changed. This time, a slightly grainier photograph was displayed: a picture of a tall and broad-shouldered man with black hair. He was shown in profile, a fist over his heart in salute. Like the royal couple in the previous photograph, he was wearing a dark set of armor, but with a slightly different insignia on the chest plate. One of his arms was a metal prosthetic, and a sword hung at his side.

More confused and concerned noises flickered through the crowd, but Lance barely noticed. He was more focused on Keith, who had inched forward as if pulled by an invisible thread. His face was still tilted upward, eyes fixed on the image of the man hovering on the screen far above them.

“Shiro?” he said quietly.

Although he barely spoke above a murmur, Lance was standing close enough that he could hear it. Shiro … The name echoed in his head as he tried to remember where he had heard it before, and then it struck him. It was the name of the person Keith had been trying to contact in his message that they’d found in his crashed ship. The person he’d said was his best friend.

But why would Keith have been in contact with the captain of the royal guard of Daibazaal? Unless––

Lance’s heart started to pound as his gaze flitted between Keith and the screen and back again. Wait ... No. No way.

“After an extensive investigation and thorough questioning, we have finally gotten a confession from Shirogane. One that may come as a great shock,” Zarkon continued. “He has confessed to conspiring against the Emperor and Empress, and ultimately working with their assassin to bring about their downfall.

“And that assassin is the heir to the throne himself, the crown prince of Daibazaal … Akira Kogane.”

The image on the screen changed once again. And this time, Lance couldn’t help but gasp once he saw the person in the photograph.

Because, well … there was no mistaking it. The white hair, the violet eyes, the scar along his jaw. It was Keith. Keith, dressed in decadent royal armor, with a silver circlet around his forehead and a purple jewel dangling from one ear. He was staring off into the distance with a brooding expression, his brow furrowed. It was unclear where exactly the photograph had been taken because of the way it had been zoomed in––but even if the surroundings had been clearer, Lance probably wouldn't have noticed them.

He was too busy looking from the enlarged photograph to the boy standing next to him and back again, his head spinning. Words flashed through his mind in no logical order, repeating themselves in a frenzied whirlwind of Keith and prince and assassin but none of it seemed to fit together.

Another strong gust of wind had arisen, sweeping through the marketplace, causing the onlookers to clutch more tightly to their jackets. Keith stood frozen in place, hands clenched into fists and pale hair fluttering in the breeze. He hadn't looked away from the screen above them, his eyes going wide.

Zarkon's face appeared again as he continued his announcement, lowering his head slightly in reverence.

"Yes ... it is with horror that I must reveal this truth, as I had watched the prince grow up from a very young age. But the tragic reality is that the prince's hunger for power drove him to murder his own parents. Shirogane has admitted to forming a complex plot with Prince Akira to overthrow the Emperor and Empress––one that even involved faking several attempts on the prince's life to make him appear innocent."

Lance heard Hunk make a faint whimpering noise next to him, and Pidge clapped a hand over her mouth as she turned to stare at Keith in horror.

Keith, meanwhile, still hadn't torn his gaze away from the screen. The lights reflected in his dark eyes as he gave a disbelieving shake of his head, choking out a faint "No."

"This, citizens, is where I must request your help." Zarkon raised his head again, glowing eyes staring forward. "As I revealed, the prince escaped arrest and is now on the loose. He was last scene on the planet Rivlax."

A blurry image appeared on the screen, and Lance sucked in his breath as he realized what it was––because it was a picture of Keith battling sentries on Blue's roof, swinging his sword in a vicious arc. Lance himself was in the background, facing away from the camera, a laser firing from the pistol he was holding. Normally he would've been impressed by how cool he looked, but now wasn't really the time.

“The prince seems to have made some allies who are assisting him in his escape from the law.” Zarkon’s face had returned to the screen again. “And he must be tracked down and pay for his grievous crimes.

“Which is why I am spreading this message to as many nearby sectors as I can. Although I have hired some of my most trusted generals to seek out the prince, he could be anywhere at any time, and I could not let such a dangerous criminal run free without warning you all––and asking for your assistance.

“Citizens, I ask for you to be my eyes and ears. If you know anything of the prince’s whereabouts, you must report it immediately.” Zarkon’s glowing eyes narrowed. “Those who are found aiding the prince in any way will be severely punished. But those who have any information, or––better yet––can capture the prince alive, will be handsomely rewarded.

“I must warn you once more, however, that Prince Akira is a dangerous criminal who murdered his own parents in cold blood. If he killed without mercy once, he may very well do it again. Proceed with extreme caution.”

The horrified gasps and mutters throughout the crowd had increased in volume and intensity. The spread of paranoia was almost palpable, as aliens all around them drew their children closer to their sides or instinctively reached towards whatever weapons they were carrying.

“I will be signing off for the time being, but rest assured I will continue to do everything in my power to seek out the prince and avenge the deaths of the Emperor and Empress. I will send out any new information to surrounding sectors as I uncover it.” Zarkon held a fist to his chest. “Vrepit sa.”

The screens all went dark.

Lance kept staring upwards for a few more moments, almost expecting there to be more. But it seemed that Zarkon’s message had ended, and Lance began to process it all with increasing dread.

Slowly, his gaze shifted towards Keith again––Keith, who was now staring at the ground, eyes moving back and forth as if he was trying very hard to figure something out. His shoulders visibly rose and fell with heaving breaths, and Lance could practically feel the panic radiating from him.

A flickering doubt crossed Lance’s mind as he mentally replayed Zarkon’s ominous message. But almost as quickly, it was drowned out by a spark of indignant certainty. It’s not true. There was no way Keith was some kind of bloodthirsty murderer … right?

“Keith?” Lance said. It came out a bit quieter and more uncertain than he intended, and he wasn’t sure Keith even heard it over the commotion around them as panic spread through the crowd.

Right then, the noise around them began to increase, and Lance noticed that a number of aliens around them were staring. A gruff voice rang out, “There he is! That’s him!”

The effect was immediate. Some of the aliens surrounding them immediately gasped and turned to run away, shouting warnings as they pushed their way through the crowd. Others crowded in closer, eyes narrowing and hands pulling out knives and firearms.

Keith took a step back and Lance did the same. Hunk and Pidge had both moved closer to them, eyes widening with terror. Rover dove behind Pidge, letting out a stream of beeping noises that sounded like anxious muttering.

“Uh … guys?” Hunk murmured. “What do we do?”

Lance took one last look at the armed aliens marching towards them and came to an immediate decision. “I think,” he said, “we should probably run.”

Chapter Text

"Go, go, go!"

Lance ushered Hunk and Pidge away from the oncoming mob, and the two of them turned and started to make their escape. Keith was another story––he was still standing motionless in the middle of the square.

"Keith." Lance grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on!"

Keith looked up at him as if he'd just been shaken awake from a nightmare. He hesitated for half a second, taking in the sight of the swarm of armed aliens advancing on them, then gave a short nod. Without waiting for any further permission, Lance turned and dashed into the crowd, yanking Keith along behind him.

Lance’s head raced with all the information they'd just learned: So, Keith was a prince. He was also possibly an assassin who had killed his parents in cold blood. Lance had about a million questions, but he could save those for later. It was a little hard to concentrate on anything else right now when there was an angry mob chasing after them through a crowded city square.

They barrelled their way through the throng. Lance took the lead, somehow managing to keep a tight hold on Keith’s wrist despite being jostled from all sides. His heart raced as he craned his head, desperately seeking out Hunk and Pidge amidst the chaos.

Luckily, he caught sight of Hunk’s bright orange headband and elbowed his way towards the familiar flash of color. “Hunk! Pidge!” he called out, stumbling as someone knocked into him from behind.

His arm strained as he kept struggling to keep hold of Keith, who had gotten caught in the densely packed mob. Lance just barely managed to tug him free, the momentum flinging them both forward.

They almost ran into Hunk, who had turned at the sound of Lance’s voice. “Lance!” he exclaimed. Then his eyes widened and he ducked as a laser beam zipped through the air right over their heads. "Whoa. Quiznak,” he cursed. “Um, guys? What's our plan?"

"Get to the hoverbike," Lance said, reaching for the stun gun at his waist. "We need to get back to Blue."

He dared to look over his shoulder and winced when he saw that the number of pursuers had increased, brandishing weapons as they shouted and barged their way through the pandemonium.

The hoverbike was fortunately where they'd left it, parked crookedly by the side of the road. Coming to a split-second decision, Lance shoved Keith towards the bike. "Keith, you drive. Hunk and Pidge, get on after him. I'll ride on the back and stun anyone who tries to attack us. Let's go."

"Why––" Keith started to say.

"No time for questions. Now let's––"

"Why are you trusting me?" Keith blurted.

As much as Lance realized they needed to get out of here––fast––the question stopped him in his tracks. Keith kept his fingers locked around Lance's wrist, his dark eyes intense and questioning.

"Because," Lance said but then hesitated, unsure of how to explain himself. "Because I just do! We can talk later. Come on."

Keith took in the sight of their oncoming attackers over Lance’s shoulder. His mouth set in a grim line and he nodded, swinging a leg over the side of the hoverbike.

Pidge clambered on after him, followed by Hunk. Keith had already started the motor by the time Lance leapt onto the back, gripping onto Hunk's shoulder with one hand and clutching his weapon in the other.

Unfortunately, some of their pursuers had gotten the same idea and had broken off from the crowd to jump onto their own vehicles. The sound of engines revving buzzed in the air all around them.

There was a split second where Lance worried that Keith didn't know how to start up the hoverbike, but that fear was quelled a second later when the engine roared and they immediately took off at a breakneck speed.

Lance cried out and clutched tighter to Hunk's shoulder to prevent himself from flying off. He had been told that he was a reckless driver, but Keith––Keith's driving was something else. He had taken off at an insanely high speed that made Lance's stomach drop, but it was also clear that he was a skilled pilot, judging by the way he managed to navigate the vehicle through the bustling city square without hitting anyone.

If not for the circumstances, Lance might've had more time to be impressed. But right now, he was distracted by the laser beams flying at them from all directions. He turned around to see a swarm of hovercrafts in hot pursuit, a sea of blazing headlights, pointed weapons, and faces snarling in fury.

"Guys, keep your heads down!" Lance yelled, hoping his friends could hear him over the roar of engines and the rush of wind.

He gritted his teeth and aimed the stun gun, firing at an alien who had come dangerously close. The alien froze, his weapon dropping from his hand. His hoverbike veered to one side and crashed into the vehicle next to him, sending them both spiraling to the side of the road.

Lance winced, hoping he hadn't seriously injured anyone. But he knew he had to do whatever it took to get him and his friends back to Blue.

They were getting closer to the docking area, and Keith was still expertly navigating them down the narrow city streets. Although they had left a good deal of their pursuers in the dust, a few stubborn ones were still gaining on them quickly.

One vehicle pulled up beside them, driven by a tall green alien with four muscular arms and glowing yellow eyes. He rammed his vehicle against the hoverbike, sending them swerving to one side. Pidge shrieked and clutched Rover tighter to her chest. Keith put on even more speed––but at this point they seemed to be traveling about as fast as they could go.

The alien tried to pull up alongside them again, reaching for the gun in the holster at his waist. But right then, Hunk let out an angry yell and lifted one foot, kicking the alien hard in the side. Although it didn't knock him off his bike completely, it at least put him off-balance enough that he went veering towards the side of the road. That bought them just enough time to pull ahead.

"Whoa––nice job, Hunk!" Lance cried, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Lance," Hunk answered, although he sounded a little shocked by what he had done.

They didn't have much time to dwell on it, because right then they entered the plaza where they'd parked Blue. A large crowd of people still milled about, and every head turned when they saw the chase scene barreling into the square. Aliens scattered left and right, crying out in alarm as Keith flew right towards the array of hangars.

"Wait, how are we gonna get all the way up to where Blue is?" Hunk shouted over the noise. "We don't have time to take the elevator!"

"Hold on," Keith said. He leaned closer to the handlebars and grasped them tightly, twisting his wrists backwards.

"Keith, what are you––" Lance started to say, but the rest was lost to a startled cry as the hoverbike veered sharply upwards, almost at a ninety degree angle.

By some miracle, Lance managed to grab hold of Hunk––who was also screaming––and not fly off the back of the vehicle.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?” Lance yelled, but he wasn’t even sure Keith could hear him over the swift rush of air and the growl of engines as the other vehicles chased after them.

It didn’t matter at this point, anyway, because Keith had somehow flown the hoverbike straight into the hangar, bringing them to a skidding stop.

Everyone collectively let out their breath, but the relief didn’t last long as lasers started firing from outside, pinging off the metal walls.

Lance ducked down. “Quiznak—everyone get to the ship!”

None of them had to be told twice. They all leapt off and dashed towards Blue. Her gangway lowered for them with a loud creak and they sprinted up the steps.

Lance was the first to make it onto the ship, and he wasted no time in rushing to the cockpit, sitting heavily down at the dashboard. He immediately began flicking switches, his hands shaking.

“C’mon, Blue. We’ve gotta move!”

Outside her windshield, Lance could still see a swarm of hoverbikes outside the hangar. But most of them had dispersed, their riders headed for their own ships.

The other three stumbled into the cockpit, wheezing for breath.

“Lance—” Hunk started to say.

“I know, I know. I’m going as fast as I can.” Blue’s dashboard lit up and Lance gripped at her controls. “Okay, girl. Give it all you’ve got.”

Blue responded right away, her engines roaring to life. The ship rose from the ground and shot forward. The vehicles hovering outside dispersed to make way for them—although Lance heard a few lasers ping off Blue’s side.

“Everyone hold on!” Lance yelled, and he pushed Blue’s controls forward as far as they would go.

The effect was immediate as they shot upwards, narrowly dodging between the tall skyscrapers of Xannova before taking off into the silvery clouds. Blue’s hull quaked as they began to break through the atmosphere. Lance was dimly aware of the other three crying out in alarm, but he was more focused on getting them out of there.

“Hunk, I need you to get to the co-pilot’s chair. See if there’s still anyone on our tail. Keith and Pidge, just—hold tight.”

Hunk rushed over to the co-pilot seat, pressing buttons and muttering to himself nervously as several holographic screens sprang to life in front of him. Pidge kneeled behind the seat with her eyes squeezed shut, clutching Rover to her chest.

And Keith—Keith was being strangely quiet despite the situation. He stood by Lance, a hand gripping the back of the chair. When Lance stole a glimpse of him, he could see that Keith was staring out of the windshield, jaw tight and eyes like steel.

"Lance, there's five jets on our tail!" Hunk shouted, grabbing Lance’s attention. "Or––oh, wait. Make that six. What do we do? Fire at them?"

Gritting his teeth, Lance clutched more tightly to the controls and continued to steer Blue upwards through the atmosphere as fast as she would go.

"No, hold the fire unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm gonna try to leave them in the dust."

"Lance, I don't think Blue can handle––"

"We can make it. Just trust me. Now everyone, hold on tight!"

They broke through the atmosphere then, the sky darkening around them. As they hurtled into the stars, Lance dared a quick look at the map hovering in front of Hunk, hoping they had left their pursuers behind. But there were still a handful of flashing dots on the floating screen, indicating the jets flying after them.

Lance jerked the controls forward, causing his three companions to cry out at the drastic change in speed. Blue's engines made a series of unsettling whirring and clanking noises.

"They're closing in!" Hunk yelled. "What should we––"

Before he could finish the question, the sound of a laser firing echoed through the sky. The hull rattled violently and the whole ship tilted to one side. A red warning screen flashed next to Hunk's elbow.

“Oh, quiznak. We’ve been hit!”

“You don’t say,” Lance muttered. He tried not to lose focus, but he was shaking with adrenaline and it was hard to think past the alarms sounding around them in the cockpit. “How bad is the damage?”

“I––I don’t know. Doesn’t look like it’s anything too serious. But this is getting hairy, Lance. I really think we should––"

"We're not firing on them. I can do this. Just ..."

Lance stopped, exasperated. At this point, he wasn't even sure what he was trying to do––only that he was starting to feel a strange burning feeling against his sternum, like some greater force was guiding him in the right direction. He just needed to trust it.

Before he could come up with a plan, though, another violent rattle trembled through the ship. Lance was slammed backwards from the force of it, whacking the back of his head against the seat. The others cried out around him.

"Lance, I have no idea what you're doing," Hunk said once the ship had stabilized again. "But you'd better make a decision now or––"

"Uh, guys?" Pidge said.

She was still kneeling on the floor, one hand gripping Hunk's armrest for support. When Lance looked her way, he could see her face had gone even paler than usual. Before Lance could ask what was wrong, he followed her wide-eyed gaze and saw exactly what she was staring at.

Keith's talisman was glowing.

It was subtle enough that Lance didn’t see it at first, but it rapidly grew more apparent as the soft light at the center of the red gem grew brighter and brighter.

“What is it?” Keith asked when he noticed everyone was gaping at him. “Why are you all––” He looked down and gasped, wrapping his hand around the talisman. Its crimson light continued to grow stronger, seeping from between his fingers.

“Whoa, what’s that?” Hunk exclaimed, pointing out the windshield.

Lance turned back around––and when he did, he had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. They were flying directly towards a hazy, glowing blue shape amongst the stars. As it began to spread, it formed a swirling blue circle against the dark backdrop of the sky.

Even though Lance had no idea what it was, he felt a fierce and indescribable pull towards it. At the same time, the warm sensation against his chest grew steadily more apparent––and he realized that it felt like it was coming from his talisman, burning directly against his skin.

“Looks like some kind of portal,” Pidge exclaimed, jumping up and running to the dashboard. “Or like––like a wormhole, maybe. But that’s––”

She was cut off as another explosion rocked through the hull of the ship with a resounding boom. This time it was so violent that Keith and Pidge both toppled to the floor. Several more flashing warnings appeared over Blue’s dashboard.

“Lance, they’re right behind us and they’re starting to open heavy fire!” Hunk cried, clapping his hands over his ears. “We really need to––”

“I’m going in,” Lance said.

He was only distantly aware of how strangely calm his voice sounded, but he wasn’t thinking about much else right now besides reaching that swirling portal––or wormhole, as Pidge had called it.

“Wait, going in where?” Hunk demanded, and then inhaled sharply. “You don’t mean––oh, no, no. We don’t know where that thing goes, Lance. It could take us to somewhere on the other side of the universe, or a black hole, or––”

“It won’t. Trust me.”

Lance couldn’t explain his reasoning, but he could feel an insistent pull towards the portal that grew more intense with each second. That, and he suddenly felt a deeper connection to Blue than he had ever felt––almost like she was speaking directly into his mind, urging him forward and promising they’d be safe on the other side.

He was distantly aware of his friends protesting and demanding to know what he was doing, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he drove Blue’s controls forward. They accelerated at such a high speed that Blue’s whole hull rattled with it and her engines made a high-pitched whirring noise.

Lance gritted his teeth and kept going, squeezing his eyes shut as they dove directly into the light.

––

Silence.

That was the first thing that struck Lance as soon as they’d entered the wormhole. One second he’d been drowning in a sea of noise––the roar of Blue’s engines, the alarms blaring through the cockpit, lasers firing at them from behind, his companions all crying out in fear.

As soon as the light enveloped them, the noise was immediately snuffed out. It was such an absolute silence that Lance wondered for a moment if he was dead. He couldn't even hear the ringing in his own ears, and he felt strange and weightless, like he didn't have a physical form.

Then, just as quickly, it was over. Lance could feel his hands clenching around Blue's controls, his whole body jerking forward with the sudden jolting movement as the ship was flung from the wormhole at top speed.

He fell back against the seat, gasping like he'd been pulled out of deep water. The inexplicable burning sensation still lingered against his chest, and he was hit with a sudden wave of dizziness when he tried to sit up straight again.

As the disorienting feeling faded, Lance blinked several times and started to regain his bearings. Outside of Blue's windshield, there was nothing but the dark sky scattered with stars. The alarms had stopped blaring, and there was no sound but a few quiet blips from around the cockpit and the sound of everyone breathing heavily from the shock of what had just happened.

"What," Pidge wheezed, "was that?"

"Wasn't it a ... whatever you said that thing was? A wormhole?" said Hunk. “Wait, no no no. This is crazy. That’s––That’s impossible. We can’t have gone through a wormhole.”

“Well, seems like we just did,” Pidge said. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, legs wobbling underneath her. Rover beeped and hovered next to her elbow, and Pidge gave the droid a reassuring pat.

“Wait a second. Keith, your necklace thing … it was glowing,” Hunk said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying was true. “Right? I didn’t imagine that?”

Keith had been huddled on the floor between the pilots’ chairs, and now he slowly shifted into a crouching position, one hand clutching the armrest of Lance’s seat. His other hand clenched around his talisman, lifting it up so he could stare at it. The glow was gone now, and the gem had returned to its usual opaque red color.

“I …” Keith started to say, and then stopped short.

“Did you do that?” Hunk asked, shrinking back in his chair a little. “Create the wormhole?”

No answer. Keith gradually rose to his feet, turning the amulet over in his hand as if searching for a clue. Very slowly, he looked over at Lance.

Lance had listened to the whole conversation as if from underwater, everyone’s voices sounding muffled through the ringing in his ears. A bead of cold sweat ran down the back of his neck as he managed to sit up straight. The movement made it feel as if the ship was pitching unsteadily around him.

“I don’t know,” Keith said at last. “I didn’t try to do anything.”

Hunk scratched the back of his neck. “Well, doesn’t really seem like a coincidence. First your necklace starts glowing and then a giant wormhole opens up in the middle of space. Seems like those two things must be––whoa. Lance, are you okay?”

He’d stopped in the middle of his thought process to stare at Lance, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Huh? Yeah, fine,” Lance said. He rubbed at his forehead. “Why?”

“I dunno. You look like you’re about to pass out, man.”

Lance waved a hand dismissively. “What? Nah, I’m okay. I feel kinda dizzy, that’s all. It’ll go away in a minute.”

The other three stared at him skeptically, and it wasn’t until then that Lance noticed that none of them looked as unsteady as he felt––maybe a little shaken from the whole ordeal, but not like they were on the verge of collapse.

“Guess I get motion sick from wormhole jumps,” Lance said to break the silence, forcing a reassuring smile. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. There’s not anyone still following us, right?”

Hunk looked like he was going to say something else, but then bit his lip and turned towards the screens hovering in front of him. “Not that I can see. Blue’s not picking up anything on her scanners. Looks like the wormhole closed up behind us, so all those guys who were chasing us must’ve been trapped on the other side.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Lance said, slumping back in his seat.

“Yeah, but now we need to actually figure out where the heck we are,” Hunk said, hands flying over the buttons on the dashboard. “Plus, Blue took a bit of damage. If there’s any planets nearby, it’d probably be a good idea to land somewhere and do some repairs. Regroup a little. Decide what to do about …” His eyes flitted towards Keith. “Um. Things.”

Even though Hunk hadn’t elaborated, Keith went rigid at the words. He still had his fingers wrapped around his talisman, and he glared down at the floor.

A tense silence descended over the group, with no sound but the faint whirring and beeping noises of the cockpit around them.

“So,” Pidge said at last. “Are we going to talk about it, or … ?”

“Talk about what?” Lance asked.

“You know what.” Pidge had been relatively quiet through the whole conversation, and Lance hadn’t realized until then that she was watching Keith with a wary expression, her arms crossed. “The announcement we heard. What we saw. Keith, you—you’re a prince?”

He still didn’t look up, like he was concentrating hard on something. But after a moment of hesitation, he gave a tense nod.

“And you’re from Daibazaal,” Pidge said. There was suddenly something very clipped about her tone, but there was a slight wavering note to it. “You’re Galra.”

The way she said the words was so pointed, and it made Lance frown in bewilderment as he tried to determine what Pidge was getting at. Maybe the wormhole jump had scrambled his brain a little, but he couldn't think of any reason why Keith being Galra was such a big deal––although truthfully, Lance didn't know much about Daibazaal except for the rumors he'd heard floating around various marketplaces. He knew there'd been turmoil there recently, but he'd never gotten any specific details besides what they’d found out today.

Keith, on the other hand, seemed to sense a much more unpleasant implication in what Pidge had said. He winced, still staring pointedly at the floor.

“Yes,” he said at last, quietly.

Pidge said nothing in response, only drew in a sharp breath. Lance met Hunk’s questioning gaze over the top of her head, but he looked just as mystified as Lance felt.

Meanwhile, Pidge let out her breath in a shaky exhale. Her arms unfolded, dropping to her sides as her hands curled into loose fists. She looked like she was about to say something else, but then bit her lip and looked sharply away. Lance could have sworn he'd seen tears in her eyes. For some reason she looked hurt at this sudden revelation.

Before he or anyone else could ask what was wrong, Pidge turned on her heel and marched away. “Pidge?” Lance tried to call after her, but she had already stormed out of the cockpit with Rover in tow. Not long after, the sound of the doors to her room sliding open and whirring shut echoed down the corridor.

“What’s gotten into her?” Lance muttered. He'd turned around in his seat to look after her, but the movement caused his head to spin unpleasantly. He turned back around to face the dashboard, rubbing at his temples.

“Beats me,” Hunk said. “But we should probably focus on landing Blue somewhere.” There was an anxious furrow in his brow as his hands flitted over various holographic screens hovering in front of him, searching the maps.

“Right,” Lance said, putting his hands back on the controls. He noticed then that his fingers were shaking, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keith still standing there, completely frozen except that he was swaying slightly on his feet. A tense silence settled over the three of them left in the cockpit, none of them looking at each other.

“You …” Keith started to say, his voice so small it was barely audible. He paused for a moment before he spoke again. “You guys aren’t going to turn me in?”

Although he was trying to focus on steering the ship, Lance couldn’t help but look up at Keith, catching a glimpse of the shell-shocked expression on his face. He exchanged a look with Hunk, who wore a wary expression like he was depending on Lance to make the call on this one.

“Depends,” Lance said. “Are you really a bloodthirsty murderer?”

“I … don’t think so.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think so? I thought you said you remembered everything.”

“Wait, you did?” Hunk blurted, looking from Keith to Lance and back again, his eyes wide. “Since when?”

“I don't remember everything,” Keith said tightly. “Just … some of it.” He rubbed at his forehead as if doing so would jog his memory.

Even with just a brief glance in Keith’s direction, Lance could see how pale his face looked and the dark circles under his eyes. Something heavy settled in Lance’s stomach as he recalled everything they’d heard in Zarkon’s announcement: how Keith’s parents had been murdered, how there had been attempts on Keith’s life before that. Whatever Keith had remembered, Lance imagined it wasn’t easy to relive it.

“Hey, we don’t need to talk about it right now,” Lance said. He had a strange urge to reach out, to touch Keith’s hand or something, but his fingers remained clenched around Blue’s controls instead. “I know it must be a lot, but we’ll figure it out somehow. Right now we just need to concentrate on landing somewhere.”

“R-Right,” Hunk agreed, although he sounded a bit wary. He paused like he was thinking of adding something else, but then let out a short sigh instead. “Looks like we’ve ended up in Sector VX-51 … ? I’ve never been out this far before so I don’t really know what’s around here. Closest planet is one called Cinoria according to the map here, so that’s probably our best bet.”

“Alright, let’s set a course,” Lance said with a curt nod. He focused again on steering Blue forward, turning his attention to the holographic map that appeared in the air to his right.

A million questions swarmed in his mind––questions about who Keith really was, whether he'd really killed his own parents, why Keith's talisman had been glowing, why his own talisman had felt like it was burning against his skin at the same time, how the wormhole had opened up ... But as pressing as all of these matters were, it would need to wait until they had landed safely.

For now, Lance tried to push his worries aside and ignore the woozy feeling that had overcome him. He kept taking deep breaths and letting them out again shakily, eyes flitting anxiously to the map to make sure there was definitely no one on their tail anymore.

He also tried to ignore the glimpse of Keith he could see out of the corner of his eye, posture stiff and unmoving. And then there was Hunk, busying himself with pulling up various maps and charts––but he was being extremely quiet in a way that Lance knew meant he was upset. Not to mention Pidge had marched off with no explanation and hadn't re-appeared since shutting herself in her room.

A dull headache had started to pound inside Lance's skull by the time Cinoria appeared nearby on the map. Suddenly alert, Lance directed Blue in the direction the blinking light indicated. Sure enough, up ahead was a faint red dot amongst stars, and Lance assumed that must be the planet. He hadn't realized how tense he'd become, and he tried to let his shoulders relax as they approached their destination.

They all remained quiet as the planet drew nearer. Lance winced when he heard Blue's engines rumble in protest; he knew she was damaged, but hopefully she was still in good enough condition to make a smooth landing.

"Okay, here we go," Lance said, although it lacked his usual enthusiasm.

Holding his breath, he pressed a few buttons on the dashboard and kicked up the speed. As long as Blue was still able to go fast enough to break through the planet's atmosphere, they'd be okay. Almost there …

There was a familiar drop in his stomach as their velocity increased, and then they were accelerating towards Cinoria’s surface. As the clouds broke across Blue’s windshield, the landscape of the planet stretched out below them. It was vast and mountainous, the red desert sand so bright that Lance had to squint.

Fortunately, they were nearing a large plateau. As they descended from the sky, Lance slowed Blue’s pace and guided her towards the flat area. Clouds of dust billowed around them as they landed, filling the surrounding air with a smoky crimson haze.

Blue’s engines made some clunking and sputtering noises that made Lance cringe, but at least they had managed a stable landing. Heaving a long sigh, Lance patted the dashboard.

“It’s alright, Blue. We made it.”

Lance expected Hunk’s usual ridicule for talking to the ship, but Hunk was still being uncharacteristically quiet. Keith was also silent, although that was a bit more expected. Despite the gravity of the situation, Lance wished that someone would say something just to break the tension filling the cockpit, but no one seemed to want to be the first one to speak.

“I––I think I need some time. To think,” Keith said haltingly. “Outside.”

“Oh,” Lance said. “Okay. Well, uh … I can lower Blue’s gangway.” He reached across the dashboard to press the button, and heard a loud creaking noise behind him as Blue’s hatch opened. “Are you sure you want to go alone? You might at least want to bring a weapon or something, since we don’t know what this planet––”

“I have my knife. I’ll be fine,” Keith cut him off, and the sudden terse tone of his voice prevented Lance from protesting any further.

Without saying anything else, Keith turned and walked out of the cockpit. Lance didn’t turn to watch him go, but he heard footsteps echoing down the metal stairs and then silence.

Lance sat stiffly in his seat, still trying to bring himself down from the shock of everything that had just happened, but it was too much to take in at once. He gazed blankly out of Blue’s windshield, across the flat plateau and towards the sweeping valley beyond it.

Hunk broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Well … I’m gonna go outside and take a look at the damage.”

“Right,” Lance said, breaking out of his stupor. “I’ll, uh … I’ll come with you.”

Outside, the bright light reflected harshly off the red sand. Lance squinted, shielding his eyes with one hand as he stepped off the last step of Blue’s gangway. Hunk followed after him, and they made their way around to the side of the ship.

Lance hissed in a breath as he caught sight of some of the blackened scars along the ship's hull––but fortunately there were only a couple of places where the plating had been ripped off, exposing wires underneath.

Hunk let out a low whistle, putting his hands on his hips. "Alright, alright. Well, it could be worse," he said. There was a forced cheeriness to the words, but Lance could detect the stress underneath.

Lance bit his lip. It was almost physically painful to look at the damage, like the wounds had been inflicted upon himself rather than on Blue. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt that he’d gotten her into such a mess. I’m sorry, girl.

“What do we do?” he asked, wiping a sleeve across his forehead.

“Hmm, I’ll need to get up there on a ladder so I can get a better look,” said Hunk. He scratched his chin. “Hopefully none of the wiring is too damaged––but even if it is, it’s nothing I can’t fix. Then I’ll probably just need to cover up the holes with some scrap metal. Might not be able to finish it by nightfall, but I can give it a shot.”

“Well, I can give you a hand,” Lance offered. “I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be with the actual repairs, but I can at least hand you tools and stuff.”

“Yeah, that might make things go a little faster.” Hunk clapped Lance on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“Any time, bud.”

Lance offered him a tired smile, which Hunk returned––but only for a moment before the expression gave way to a slight frown.

“You sure you’re okay, Lance? You still look kinda … out of it.”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance said hastily. He shrugged Hunk’s hand off his shoulder. “Just, you know. A little overwhelmed after everything that happened today. And now we don’t even know where in the universe we are, and Blue is damaged, and Keith is a prince, and Pidge is upset for some reason, and …” He rubbed his temples, feeling a little dizzy all of a sudden. “I don’t know. It’s all too much and I feel like everything is falling apart.”

As he spoke, his eyes followed the trail of Keith’s footprints, which trailed across the red sand and disappeared over the crest of a hill in the near distance.

“Hey, slow down,” said Hunk. “Everything’s not falling apart. I mean … yeah, we don’t really know where the quiznak we are right now, and about everything else you said … I’m just as confused as you are.” He let out a short sigh. “But hey, we’re all still alive. And I’m sure we’ll figure things out.”

As much as Lance wanted to take comfort in the words, he still felt a sense of dread gnawing at the inside of his stomach as he continued to stare off at the horizon.

Seeming to understand what he was worried about, Hunk put a hand on his shoulder. “Keith will come back soon,” he said, more quietly this time. “He probably just needs to … think about things.”

Lance’s eyes stung from the glare, and he blinked rapidly as if waking up from a trance.

“Yeah, I don’t blame him.” He chewed his lip, trying to imagine what Keith was going through right now and not even being able to fathom it. It worried him. But he had to trust that Hunk was right and that Keith would come back when he was ready.

He turned his attention back to Blue with a sigh. “Okay, girl. Let’s get you fixed up.”

—

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon, and Hunk and Lance were still busy patching up the scars on Blue’s side. Both had discarded their jackets long ago, their shirts soaked through with sweat in the afternoon heat.

Lance was now sitting on the edge of Blue’s wing, a toolbox sitting to his left. Various tools, as well as handfuls of nuts and bolts were scattered around.

“Hey Lance, can you hand me that drill?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Lance picked up the tool Hunk had indicated and handed it over.

Balancing on the ladder propped against Blue’s side, Hunk reached out to take the drill. “Thanks, buddy.”

He flipped a pair of goggles on and started to drill new threaded holes into a panel in Blue’s side. A high-pitched whirring noise filled the air as sparks flew from the metal.

Lance sighed, his legs swinging over the edge of Blue’s wing. He rested an elbow on his knee and propped his chin up on his hand. He’d lost track of how much time had gone by, but he was fairly certain it had been several vargas since they had started on the repairs.

In all that time, Keith hadn’t returned from wherever he’d wandered off to, and Lance was starting to fear the worst. Although he wanted to believe that Keith was fine and that he’d just needed some time to think, he worried that Keith had gotten lost, or encountered some hostile aliens, or …

“Lance?”

“Hmm?”

He looked up again to see Hunk watching him, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I said, can you hand me the wrench?”

“Right. Sure,” Lance stammered, handing Hunk the wrench and taking back the drill as Hunk handed it back to him. “Sorry, man. I was just … thinking.”

The hesitation in his tone must have implied there was a lot lurking under the surface, because Hunk paused in his work to look over at him with narrow-eyed suspicion. “About what?”

Lance ran a hand through his hair, cringing a little when he felt how damp with sweat it was. “I don’t know. Everything. Do you think Keith is okay?”

Hunk hesitated and then shrugged, turning back around to tighten a screw in Blue’s side. “I don’t know, man. Depends on what you mean by ‘okay.’ I think he’s pretty freaked out after what happened––I mean, we all are. Or at least I am, I don’t know about you.

“But, like, if you’re asking if I think he’s physically okay … well, I guess don’t know that either. But my guess is he’s probably wandering around somewhere nearby and that he’ll come back whenever he’s ready.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lance murmured. He squinted at the horizon, where the rust-colored sand of the desert met the pale blue of the sky.

Without even thinking about it, he reached up to pull his talisman out from where it had been tucked underneath his shirt. He looked down at it, running a thumb over the dark gem at its center.

“Hey, Hunk?”

“Yeah?” Hunk said, not looking up from his work.

“Can I tell you something? Something that might sound a little crazy?”

“Crazier than Keith being a prince and us jumping through a wormhole to some distant galaxy? Go for it, man.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, Lance might have laughed at that. But the thing he was about to admit was possibly as crazy as both of those things.

“You know how when we went through the wormhole, Keith’s talisman started glowing?”

“Uh, yeah, that was pretty noticeable. Why?”

“Because …” Lance paused, chewing his lower lip before he blurted out the rest. “I think my talisman might’ve been glowing, too.”

Hunk nearly dropped his wrench but managed to catch it in midair. He whirled around to look at Lance with wide eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Lance went on. “I couldn’t see it ‘cause it was under my shirt, and I was a little busy piloting Blue through a wormhole to escape a bunch of aliens who wanted to kill us, but … I don’t know. It felt … warm?

“And right before we went through the wormhole, I felt this crazy energy, like––like it was being channeled into me, but I don’t know where it was coming from. From Blue, or from the talisman, or from …”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “From Keith?”

Maybe it was the desert heat, but Lance’s face felt absurdly warm all of a sudden. He huffed, looking away. “I told you it would sound too crazy.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was crazy! I’m just trying to understand what you mean.”

“I just meant …” Lance tried and failed to come up with a better explanation than the one he had already given, and he sighed in frustration. “Quiznak, even I don’t know what I mean. All I know is that I could feel something weird right before we went through the wormhole, and I think … I think the talismans might have something to do with it.”

He closed a fist around the talisman, as if clutching it would somehow reveal its true meaning, but nothing else came to him.

“Hmm,” Hunk murmured. He leaned forward on the ladder, which creaked slightly at the movement. “That actually makes sense. Like I said before, Keith’s talisman glowing—and maybe yours glowing, too—right when the wormhole appeared … that’s gotta be related somehow.”

“But how?”

Hunk didn’t provide an answer—not that Lance had expected one. With another deep sigh, Lance leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees, staring into the distance again. A slight, warm breeze moved over the landscape, causing the sand to shift in flowing motions like an ocean.

All of a sudden, a fierce determination rushed through him. With a frown, he tucked the talisman under his shirt again and clambered to his feet.

“Lance?” Hunk said warily. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’ve put it off long enough and … I don’t know. Maybe if I tell him the truth, it’ll help him remember something. Now, can you move the ladder over here? I need to get down.”

“I don’t know, Lance. Now might not be the best time to––”

“Are you serious? You’re the one who keeps telling me I need to talk to him, and now you’re telling me I shouldn’t?”

“That’s … That was before––ugh, never mind,” Hunk relented with a sigh. “Fine, just give me one second.”

He finished up tightening a bolt, and then climbed down the ladder so he could prop it against the wing. Lance descended the rungs and jumped down onto the sand.

“Thanks, man.” He faced the horizon as he squared his shoulders. “Okay, I’m going.”

Even as he said it, he could hear the slight tremor of anxiety in his own voice. He hadn’t realized until then how nervous he was, that the thought of finally confronting Keith and telling him about the talisman was terrifying for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder as if sensing his thoughts. “Good luck, dude. I should probably take a break from repairs and go check up on Pidge to make sure she’s okay.”

“Good idea. See you in a bit?”

“Yeah, see you. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hunk smiled sheepishly. “Well, you know … last time we left you and Keith by yourselves, you both almost got killed.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped himself. “I … okay, fair enough. I promise I’ll be okay. And I still have my stun gun with me in case anything exciting happens.” He patted the weapon at his hip to illustrate. “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

“Alright. Bye, Lance.”

Hunk gave him a quick hug, which Lance returned gratefully. Then he stepped back again, offering Hunk one last reassuring smile before he faced the endless stretch of desert.

––

The sun hovered low in the cloudless sky as Lance made his way forward. Heat shimmered off the ground, and Lance kept wiping a trembling hand across his sweating forehead.

He still felt strangely woozy, and it occurred to him he was probably super dehydrated and it wasn’t a great idea to be out in the middle of the dry desert, but he couldn’t turn around now. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable way his shirt stuck to his back, and how the weight of the talisman around his neck felt heavier with every step. He had to focus on his mission, had to concentrate on following the winding trail of boot prints Keith had left in his wake.

Keith had walked a long distance, apparently, and Lance was starting to worry that he wouldn’t be able to find Keith before the wind erased his footprints from the sand. But finally, the trail snaked downwards into a sprawling valley, and into the mouth of a small cave in the side of the cliff. With a sudden thrill of hope, Lance quickened his pace and sprinted towards the opening.

He was breathing hard when he reached the cave, stumbling through the entrance and putting a hand against its wall to steady himself. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dimness after being out in the sunlight for so long. But as the bright spots dissipated from his vision, he caught sight of a familiar figure sitting on a flat rock not far from where he stood.

Keith had been sitting hunched over with his knees drawn up to his chest, but he stiffened and sat up at Lance’s entrance. His hand flew to the dagger at his side before recognition sparked in his eyes and his shoulders relaxed. “Lance?”

His voice rasped, and Lance could see now that his eyes were bloodshot and his face was splotched red. He’d been crying. Keith seemed to realize Lance had noticed it and he suddenly looked down, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

Lance had a sudden tight feeling in his chest, and he wondered if he was being too invasive. He hovered at the mouth of the cave, unsure of whether he should step forward or back away.

“I––I’m sorry,” he stammered by way of greeting. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, obviously you’re not––um. But, you know, wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out in the middle of the desert or something. If you want me to leave, I’ll––”

“No,” Keith said with a firmness that surprised Lance. He cleared his throat, speaking a little more quietly as he continued. “You don’t have to go. You can, uh …” He trailed off, but he shifted over on the rock to make more room.

Lance strode cautiously forward. He was conscious of the way Keith briefly looked him up and down as he approached, and he realized he probably looked like a mess––patches of sweat on his T-shirt and his damp hair curling in the heat. If Keith noticed, he was gracious enough not to say anything.

Lance climbed up onto the rock next to him, although he maintained a few feet of distance between them. He still felt a little winded from all the walking he’d done and he tried to catch his breath, leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees.

They sat in silence for several minutes, without speaking or even looking at each other. Outside, the valley gleamed in the sunlight, the sides of its surrounding cliffs layered with rings of different shades of orange.

“I didn’t kill them,” Keith said at last.

Lance startled a bit at the words, then turned to look at Keith questioningly. Keith continued to avoid his gaze, glaring down at the earthen floor of the cavern. He still had one knee drawn up to his chest and the other stretched out in front of him. One of his hands wrapped around his talisman, thumb tracing its edges.

Some of the tension eased from Lance’s shoulders. He leaned back a little, placing his hands down on the rock on either side of him.

“I know,” he said quietly.

At that, Keith suddenly looked over at him. Something flashed across his eyes that Lance couldn’t quite read––surprise, maybe, or confusion––before his expression hardened again.

“How do you know?”

There was a slight edge to it––a challenge, almost––that caught Lance off guard, but he could hear a hint of desperation under the surface, not so much a demand as it was a plea for reassurance.

He let out a long breath, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Well,” he said at last, “I guess I don’t know for certain, and it’s not like I’ve known you for super long, but … I’ve never gotten the vibe that you were some heartless murderer. I know you wouldn’t hurt any of us––me or Hunk or Pidge, and you’ve only known us for like a week, so I doubt you would’ve hurt your own family.”

It maybe wasn't the most solid evidence, but it was difficult for Lance to articulate the gut feeling he had that there was no way Keith had killed his parents. He didn't know how many times he could say I just know without Keith demanding another reason, so he figured trying to rationalize it would help.

And it seemed to work, to an extent. Although there was still a stony expression in Keith's eyes, he didn't ask for further explanation.

Lance watched him for a few more moments before he asked quietly, "Do you remember what happened? I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but ..." He trailed off, biting his lip to keep himself from saying anything that might come off as insensitive.

If Keith was insulted at all, he didn't show it. After a moment of concentration, he shook his head. "I don't. Not all of it, anyway."

Lance drummed his fingers against the edge of the rock. "So, when you came up to me in the square and said you remembered who you are ..."

"Like I said, I didn't remember everything," Keith cut him off. “Just some things. My name, for one.”

“Oh, right,” Lance said. “Akira.” He tilted his head quizzically. “Is that, uh … what you want to be called now?”

Keith hesitated, then shook his head. “I think I would prefer that you guys keep calling me Keith. I’m kinda used to it now. I might change my mind when I remember more, but right now …” He paused, frowning. “I don’t know how to describe it, but that name, Akira … it doesn’t feel like me. Or it does, I guess, but it’s like this past version of myself that doesn’t exist anymore. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it does,” said Lance, which earned him a surprised look. “I get it. It’s like, this whole past life that you can barely remember, so like … you’re still kinda detached from it.” He stopped himself when he saw Keith’s eyes widen. “I—I mean, I’m not trying to put words in your mouth or anything, I just …”

“No, no. That’s exactly it. It just feels wrong somehow because it’s … it’s part of my life that I only remember pieces of. And a lot of it, I don’t really want to remember.”

Keith went silent, chewing his lower lip in contemplation. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, rough around the edges.

“That memory I had before, of all the … the blood all over my hands …”

Oh. “Your parents,” Lance said numbly, and then regretted saying it out loud when he saw how Keith flinched at the words.

Without even thinking, he reached out to put his hand over Keith’s where it rested on the rock between them. Keith’s hand tensed at the touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Keith, I … I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how horrible that must have been.”

Lance was afraid the words came out sounding hollow, but he didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t like he could do anything to change what had happened, but he still wished desperately that there was some way to alleviate the pain Keith was going through. It almost physically hurt to see him like this, glassy-eyed and devastated.

After a few moments, Lance drew his hand back again, nervous that he had crossed a line. Keith still didn’t show much of a reaction, only letting out a shuddering breath as he lifted his head, the hazy orange light from outside highlighting the angles of his face.

“I don’t know how much of it I truly can’t remember and how much of it I’m blocking out, but … I––I sort of remember … finding them. When it was too late.” He swallowed, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “If I’d gotten there sooner, maybe I could’ve …”

He trailed off, voice becoming too choked to continue. Lance immediately felt an urge to reach out and touch his hand again, but he resisted this time.

“Keith,” he said instead, gentle but insistent. “It’s not your fault.”

That earned him a surprised look, the furrow in Keith’s brow easing away a little.

“Thanks,” Keith said at last, hoarsely. “I want to believe that, but I still feel like I should’ve been there to save them.”

Lance could practically feel the guilt rolling off of him, and it was a gut-wrenching emotion that Lance knew he couldn’t even fathom.

“Listen,” he said, carefully trying to find the right words, “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now, and I understand it’s hard not to blame yourself. But … I know you’re a good person, Keith. And I think whoever did that to your parents … I think they want you to feel this way, to think it was your fault.”

Keith shot him a quizzical frown, and Lance frantically tried to put his thoughts into words.

“What I’m saying is, someone is manipulating you. Trying to frame you. Something about this whole thing just … doesn’t add up.”

He hadn’t had much time to think about it, but now all the pieces seemed to be coming together right in front of him and his mind raced to catch up.

“That Zarkon guy … he said something about how there were several failed attempts on your life, that somehow you staged those to make yourself look innocent. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

Keith stared at him in bewilderment. “What are you getting at?”

“I––I don’t really know,” Lance admitted, rubbing his temples. “But I think maybe … whoever the assassin is, they left you alive on purpose. So that they had someone to pin the blame on––and when you escaped, they could claim that you had killed your parents and run away. Which would then give them the justification to hunt you down and kill you, too.”

He immediately worried he’d been too blunt in his rush to get the thoughts out. Keith’s shoulders stiffened, but he seemed to mull over what Lance had said, gaze searching the ground in front of him.

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Zarkon is behind all of this. I know it.”

His jaw tightened, and there was suddenly a murderous flare in his eyes that was almost frightening. After sitting still for several long moments, he jumped down from the rock.

“Keith?” said Lance hesitantly. But Keith wasn’t even looking at him, just pacing furiously and massaging his temples. “Are you okay?”

He slid down from the rock until his feet touched the ground. “Did you remember something?”

“Not really. But I’m trying.” Keith stopped pacing, although his brow remained furrowed in concentration. “All I can remember is that Zarkon worked closely with my parents. He was … I don’t know, a military general of some kind. I remember being suspicious of him, that he and my parents had some kind of disagreement, and …”

He stopped. There had been a temporary gleam in his eyes like he’d been on the verge of a breakthrough, but it flickered out again in an instant. Keith growled in frustration, kicking a small stone near his foot and sending it skittering across the ground.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lance said, taking a cautious step towards him and raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Don’t strain yourself too much over it. It’ll come back to you, even if it’s only a little bit at a time.”

Although he didn’t look entirely convinced, some of the tension eased from Keith’s shoulders. He turned away to stare out across the valley, crossing his arms.

“I know, but I just … I feel so helpless. Like it’s right there but I can’t reach it.” He closed his eyes and opened them again, sighing deeply. “And the weird thing is, part of me almost doesn’t want to remember at all.”

Lance hesitated and then stepped up next to him, following Keith’s gaze.

“That’s not weird,” he said sincerely. “Remembering all that stuff … it must be really hard.”

He almost winced at his own words, knowing they weren’t enough. But Keith barely even seemed to have heard him.

“The thing that I remembered, back in the market square …” he said at last. “I think I remembered one of those attempts on my life that Zarkon mentioned.”

Lance took a moment to fully process what Keith had said, and then inhaled sharply. He struggled to find something to say, but wasn’t able to think of anything before Keith continued.

“There was an explosion. A bomb, I guess––I don’t quite remember. It would’ve killed me, but someone pushed me out of the way.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “That was Shiro.”

Lance frowned in concern as the true horror of the story set in. “Oh … oh, no. Was he … ?”

“He survived––as you already know, I guess. But he lost an arm. I never really stopped blaming myself for that.”

“Keith––”

“I know it wasn’t my fault, but still. It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been protecting me.” Keith huffed out a breath. “I remembered something he said to me shortly afterward, about how now we were ‘even’ because he gave me this scar.”

He traced a finger over the marking in question, a faint diagonal line near his jaw.

“Shiro did that?”

“It was an accident. Happened when we were practicing sword-fighting.” Keith dropped his hand to his side again, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “He was way more freaked out about it than I was. He thought my parents were gonna kill him.”

The smile faded again, his eyes turning to stone. “If what Zarkon said is true, that Shiro is being held prisoner because he helped me escape … I have to do something about it.”

Lance stared at him, his blood suddenly running cold. “You mean …”

“I have to break him out of prison.”

There was no trace of doubt in the statement, and Keith turned to look at Lance then with a steadfast determination in his eyes. Lance might have thought he was joking, but that didn’t seem like Keith. They may not have known each other that long, but Lance already had become familiar with Keith’s stubbornness, with his reckless streak.

“Whoa, wait. Wait a second,” Lance said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to wrap his head around what Keith was saying. “You’re going to what? That … that’s crazy, man. And dangerous. We don’t even know where Shiro is, but I’m guessing if he’s been imprisoned for treason, it’s probably somewhere with pretty intense security.”

A muscle in Keith’s jaw twitched. “I know that. But I figure that if I can at least get back to Daibazaal, I can find a way to save him. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but … it’s like I said yesterday. Once we get to Galjor, I need to find my way back.”

From the firm tone of his voice, Lance had a feeling it would be difficult––maybe impossible––to change his mind. But the thought of Keith going back to Daibazaal on his own, especially now that he had a bounty on his head, made him feel dizzy with panic.

“Keith,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I know you want to save Shiro. But maybe you need to give this some more thought. It’s already bad enough that Zarkon has accomplices all over the universe looking for you. If you go back to Daibazaal, you’ll be walking right into a trap.”

Keith bristled at the words, hands balling into fists at his sides. “What else am I supposed to do, Lance?” he snapped. “I can’t just do nothing while Shiro is probably being tortured in prison. He’s my best friend, practically my brother, and he’s risked his life for me more times than I can count.” Some of the fight seemed to leave him then, hands uncurling again. “He never gave up on me. I can’t give up on him.”

With that, he turned on his heel and started to march towards the mouth of the cave. It took a second for Lance to recover from the shock of Keith’s outburst, and then a tight knot formed in his chest as he stumbled in tow.

“Keith, wait.” He managed to catch up just as Keith stepped into the sunlight. “Will you just listen to me for a second?”

That somehow stopped Keith in his tracks, although he didn’t turn around. Lance stood warily behind him, taking a deep breath as he searched for the right thing to say. All of a sudden, he found himself thinking of what Hunk had told him the night before: Maybe he’ll change his mind if you tell him. More than ever, he was painfully aware of the weight of the talisman under his shirt, resting against his pounding heartbeat.

“I’m not telling you to give up,” he said at last. “I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t have to do this alone.”

That seemed to catch Keith’s attention, his shoulders stiffening as he turned to look at Lance in surprise. But the momentary vulnerability vanished in an instant, replaced by that stony expression again.

“I’m sorry, but I have to. I’ve put you all in enough danger as it is.”

Now it was Lance’s turn to be stubborn, frowning as he crossed his arms. “I don’t see why it makes a difference. We’ve already been seen helping you escape. Even if you go to Daibazaal alone, you think there won’t still be people hunting us down and demanding to know where you are? We’re in this together now, whether you like it or not.”

Keith stared back at him, wide-eyed, but then looked down and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m grateful for everything you guys have done for me, but I just can’t …”

He trailed off, and in the pause that followed Lance felt like the planet had shifted underneath him, like some unshakable force was pulling at him from all directions. This was it, he realized. It was his last chance to say something.

He could barely hear through the sudden ringing in his ears, could barely feel the ground under his feet or feel the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on him. His own voice sounded distant when he finally spoke.

“Listen. I––I’m not trying to force you to change your mind. But … there’s one other thing I should tell you. Something important.”

The words tumbled out of him, halting but insistent. They at least managed to catch Keith’s attention, and he looked up at Lance again––eyes glinting with something unreadable. Curiosity? Bewilderment?

“What is it?” he asked carefully, when Lance didn’t say anything else.

The panic Lance had felt moments ago gave way to an almost eerie calmness. He’d rehearsed this moment so many times in his head, it felt surreal that it was unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t exactly pictured it this way, had hoped it would be under better circumstances, but … well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

His heart pounded so hard it was almost painful, as he took a cautious step forward. Keith remained glued to the spot where he was standing, tensing as he watched Lance approach.

When there was only a few feet between them, Lance came to a halt. He’d tried to think of something to say as he’d inched forward, but his mind seemed to have gone completely blank. Besides, he couldn’t really think of any warning sufficient enough for what he was about to reveal.

Drawing in a deep breath, he hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt to tug at the thin chain around his neck. Then, slowly, he pulled the talisman out into the light.

He didn’t know what to do or say at this point. As many times as he’d practiced an explanation in his head, words completely failed him. All he could do was hold the amulet out for Keith to see, watching the other boy’s face with careful scrutiny for any hint of a reaction.

It was subtle at first––Keith’s eyebrows knit together slightly as his gaze traveled down to the talisman and lingered there. Then, his eyes widened a fraction as they flitted back up to Lance’s face and back to the talisman again.

“What––” The one word came out faint, choked. Keith’s hand drifted up to close in a fist around his own amulet, and he kept staring at Lance’s like he thought it might disappear at any moment.

There was a tense silence as they both stood there, as if frozen in place. Then Keith took a staggering step forward. Lance still didn’t say anything, his heart racing and ears roaring. Keith had closed the distance between them and, slowly, he reached out to brush his fingers over Lance’s talisman.

Lance went rigid at the unexpected gesture, his heart stuttering as Keith's hand brushed against his own. Not many people had touched the talisman before, and something about it felt strangely intimate, like Keith had reached out and touched Lance's face. Long moments passed, tense and silent, as Keith wrapped his fingers around the blue pendant and turned it upwards so that the sun illuminated the symbol etched into its center.

Finally, still not letting go of the talisman, he looked up––right into Lance's eyes. Lance tried to read the expression written in Keith's gaze, but the emotions flitted by so quickly it was difficult to decipher them. Confusion, mostly, but there was something else under the surface, something almost ... hurt.

"I ..." Keith said at last, voice faint and dazed. "I don't understand."

Lance tried and failed to answer, his mind refusing to come up with an explanation that sounded reasonable. "Honestly ... I don't, either," he admitted.

He attempted a reassuring smile, but Keith didn't return it. He just looked down to Lance's talisman again, his thumb tracing over the map-like etching, before he snatched his hand back all of a sudden like it had burned him.

"How––How long have you ... ?" he stammered. He seemed unable to complete the question, but he still managed to meet Lance's gaze again, searching desperately for answers.

Lance was still holding on to the talisman, but now he let it drop back against his chest. It felt surreal to finally have it out in the open where Keith could see it, and he kept fighting the urge to shove it back underneath his shirt collar again.

The blaze of the afternoon sun suddenly felt about ten times warmer, and he wiped the back of his shaking hand across his forehead.

“I’ve had it since I was a baby,” he explained. He chewed his lower lip before he continued the story; it wasn’t exactly easy for him to talk about this, and only a handful of people knew. “I was found with it.”

“Found?” Keith repeated, frowning in confusion.

Lance swallowed and nodded. “I was abandoned in the woods on Deldia. That’s where my parents––or, well, I guess they were my adopted parents––found me and took me in.” He looked away, glaring into the shifting sands of the valley below. “I didn’t know until about a year ago, right after I finished flight school. My parents had kept the talisman hidden that whole time, but then they … they finally decided to tell me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, as if doing so would banish the painful memory of that night––the brutal shock of the news, the things he'd said that he wished he could take back.

"They said they did it to protect me," he continued, trying not to let too much emotion slip into his voice. He idly fiddled with the talisman as he spoke, turning it over between his fingers. "They thought maybe someone was after me. Or the talisman. They weren't sure. Just that after they'd found me, there were soldiers patrolling the town, knocking on doors, asking questions. They wouldn't explain why, apparently. But my parents didn't think it was a coincidence.

"I guess I understand now why they kept it a secret from me, but at the time I ... didn't take it super well. I kinda lashed out at them, 'cause I felt like they'd been lying to me my whole life. It took me a few days to process it, to forgive them, but at that point I'd still decided that I had to find out the truth. Which is part of why Hunk and I decided to leave Deldia and explore the universe. So I could find out who I really am."

He stopped, afraid he was explaining too much at once––and he figured that Keith was still too shocked to be processing his whole life story anyway. Judging by the way he just kept staring at the talisman, he was still struggling to keep up with what was happening.

"So," Keith said at last. He shook his head in disbelief. "You knew ... You knew this the whole time, and you never said anything?"

It was difficult to determine his emotion from his tone of voice, whether he was shocked or angry, hurt or confused. Or, most likely, a combination of all of those things.

Although maybe Keith hadn't intended it as an accusation, Lance felt the words like a backhand across the face. He winced, tugging nervously at the collar of his shirt, which had been sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

"Yes," he admitted, avoiding Keith's gaze. "When we first found you, I saw your talisman and thought maybe I had finally found some answers. But then, you didn’t remember anything, so ..."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw some of the tension ease out of Keith's posture, his shoulders sagging. "Oh," he said, and a weighty silence fell between them. "Lance, I'm––"

"It's okay. It's not like it's your fault." Lance offered him a small smile before looking down again, thumb wandering the edges of the talisman as he kicked absently at the dust. "It's just that, once I knew you didn't know what your own talisman meant ... I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to tell you about mine. I know it sounds stupid, but I worried it would be too overwhelming with everything else that was going on. Or that it'd seem manipulative somehow, like you'd think I only wanted you around because I wanted answers out of you."

He cut himself short, his face somehow managing to burn even hotter with the realization that he'd basically just admitted that he wanted Keith around for many more reasons than that. Reasons that were starting to feel very big and confusing, but he hastily shoved the thought to the back of his mind to be examined later.

Meanwhile, Keith was being very quiet. Lance was afraid to even look at him––but when he dared to lift his gaze again, he found that Keith didn't look angry. At least, not necessarily. He was glaring at the ground the same way Lance had been moments ago, frowning in contemplation.

"It's not stupid," Keith said at last. "I mean, I wish you'd told me earlier. And now ... now I'm not even sure what to think. I wish I knew what it meant."

"Me, too." Lance sighed. Despite how confusing the whole situation was, he felt a tinge of relief that at least Keith didn't seem to be mad at him for withholding this information. "Especially after ... well. There's one other thing I should probably mention."

At that, Keith looked up, eyebrows raised.

"When we went through the wormhole," Lance continued, "you know how your talisman started glowing?"

Keith nodded.

"Well ... I don't know for sure, because my talisman was hidden at the time. But, it felt really warm? And I was kinda focused on getting us to safety and all, so it's not like I could've checked anyway, but ... I have a feeling my talisman was glowing, too."

Lance blurted it all out before he could second guess himself. On one hand, he didn't want to overwhelm Keith with too much information. But he also figured that now that his biggest secret was out in the open, he might as well lay everything out on the table.

Keith inhaled sharply, glancing down at Lance's talisman as if he expected to see some proof of his claims. He looked like he was going to say something and then seemed to change his mind, running a hand down his face.

"I know, I know," said Lance. "It's a lot to take in, and I'm still trying to understand all of it myself, but ..."

“No, it’s …” Keith started to say, and then stopped short. He rubbed a hand against the side of his neck. “I mean, yes, it is a lot. But now that you mention it, I––I felt something, too. When we went through the wormhole.”

Maybe it was just the colorful afternoon lighting, but Lance could have sworn there was a slight flush to Keith’s face all of a sudden, and his own face continued to feel strangely warm.

“Oh? What kind of ‘something’?”

“It’s hard to describe. It wasn’t just the whole glowing-talisman thing, it was more than that. It was like there was this weird energy that was coming from everywhere.”

“Whoa, yeah. Exactly,” Lance blurted. His pulse had suddenly picked up and he took an involuntary step forward. “I felt that, too. Like something was pulling me towards the wormhole.”

Keith blinked, like he was surprised by Lance’s sudden close proximity, but he recovered a moment later. “Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Or … I don’t know if I felt the exact same thing, but it was similar. It was more like I could sense some huge source of power, and I was feeding into it, almost. Magnifying it somehow.”

At that, Lance’s excitement dwindled. He frowned, struggling to understand. “A source of power?” he repeated. “Coming from where? The wormhole?”

Keith fell silent, the flush in his face growing more evident. “No,” he said at last. “That’s the thing. It didn’t feel like it was coming from the wormhole. It felt like …”

He took a deep breath, gaze traveling down to Lance’s talisman and then cautiously back up to his face again.

“It felt like it was coming from you.”

That had been about the last thing Lance had expected to hear, and he couldn’t comprehend it right away. As the words settled in, a prickling sensation raced up his spine.

“What?” he choked out. “What do you mean?”

Keith inhaled slowly, his eyes searching Lance’s like he was expecting to find answers there. “I––I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I understood it, and it all happened so fast that I can’t remember it clearly enough. I just know that I felt it right before the wormhole opened.”

The implication hit Lance like an avalanche. All of a sudden, he remembered being back in Blue’s cockpit, remembered Hunk asking Keith if he had created the wormhole––remembered how Keith had given him that long and curious look, almost like he thought …

“No way,” he breathed, holding a hand up to his forehead. Everything suddenly felt different, the universe slightly askew. “Are you saying that you think I … that we … ?”

“Made the wormhole appear?” Keith finished the question for him.

Lance swallowed and nodded.

“I can’t say for sure, but … When it happened, it really felt like we were––like, I don’t know,” Keith stuttered. “Like maybe our talismans were connected or something. I mean, why else would they have both been glowing at the same time?”

Lance pondered the question, his heart racing, but he couldn’t think of any alternative. The talismans had to be connected somehow, and had played a part in the wormhole appearing. And then what Keith had said about feeling a source of power coming from Lance … it didn’t make any sense. Yet, Lance had an unnerving feeling that it was true, that somehow he had unwittingly done something. But he didn’t understand what.

When he didn’t respond, Keith let out a heavy sigh. “What does this all mean?” he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

“I wish I knew,” Lance said, before he looked up to meet Keith’s gaze with a steady intensity. “But I think the only way we can find out is if we stick together.”

––

Although Keith didn’t seem entirely convinced that he should stay with the team, he also didn’t seem so insistent about leaving after this new development. He’d been oddly quiet since Lance had broken the news, and Lance could only assume he had to think it over––not that Lance could blame him, since he had a lot of things to think about, too.

The sun had started to sink lower on the horizon, and they’d decided to head back to the ship before it got dark and before Hunk and Pidge got worried. Lance had told Keith he didn’t have to come back yet if he wasn’t ready, but Keith thought it was best he returned before night fell. Besides, they had some important decisions to make as a group.

Their trek back was mostly silent as they walked side-by-side across the desert. At least the temperature had cooled down as the evening approached, although heat still radiated from the ground and the air was so dry that Lance felt like his throat was covered in dust.

By the time they reached Blue, the last rays of the sun were crawling over the horizon and shadows pooled in the orange sand. The ship sat there silently, haloed in the light. There were now several more metallic patches welded to her side––there had been quite a few of those already, but they were rusty and faded compared to the new additions. Although it hurt Lance a bit to see any damage come to Blue, he couldn’t help but feel a warm twinge of fondness at the sight of her; after all, every little imperfection only gave her a bit more character.

But more than that, he was relieved to return to the ship after such a long and exhausting day. Despite everything they had been through in the last few vargas, Lance felt some of the weight fall from his shoulders as he and Keith ascended the gangway until they were safe inside Blue’s walls.

Hunk hadn’t been outside, Lance had noticed, and he wasn’t in the cockpit either. The ship was almost completely silent except for the droning hum of Blue’s generator.

“Hunk?” Lance called down the empty corridor. “Pidge?”

There was no answer, and Lance felt something cold burst through his veins as he started down the hallway.

“Maybe they went for a walk or something?” Keith suggested as he followed Lance.

Lance didn’t respond. He knew he was probably just overly paranoid and on edge after everything they’d been through today, but that didn’t stop his heart from climbing into his throat as he cautiously made his way down the empty corridor.

He was just about to raise his hand to knock on the door to Hunk’s room, when he heard muffled voices coming from the end of the hall. Relief flooded through him as he followed the sound, pressing a button on the wall to open the doors.

Sure enough, Hunk and Pidge were seated in the small lounge area at the table in the corner. They both looked up in alarm, but visibly relaxed once they saw who it was.

Right away, Lance saw how exhausted Pidge looked, her hair in disarray and dark circles underlining her eyes. “Oh,” she said, sinking back in her chair. “Hey, Lance. What’s …”

She trailed off abruptly, her gaze suddenly fixing on the talisman dangling around Lance’s neck. She sat up straight again, looking over at Keith as he slid into the room and stood by Lance’s side.

“Um,” she said, blinking like she expected to wake up from a dream. “You guys have matching necklaces now?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Lance stammered, glancing down at the amulet in question, his face burning. Truthfully, he’d been so caught up in everything else that he hadn’t really stopped to think that Pidge hadn’t known about this already.

“Did I know that? I don’t think I knew this.” Pidge turned to Hunk. “Did you know?”

Hunk held up his hands defensively. “Look, Lance was the one who wanted to be all weird and secretive about it––”

“Hey. I was not being weird about it,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I am glad that you finally told Keith, though.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Pidge had now stood up from the table and was rubbing furiously at her temples. Rover hovered in a circle around her, beeping in confusion. “I––I don’t understand. Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

“Well …” Lance started to say. He looked over at Keith, but found that Keith was watching him already, supposedly waiting for him to give an explanation. Lance sighed, turning back towards Pidge. “Long story short …”

He tried to tell the story as concisely as possible: how he didn’t know who his birth parents were, how he’d been found with the talisman as a baby and it was the only clue he had to his true heritage. How he had immediately recognized Keith’s talisman as a match for his own, but he hadn’t said anything about it until now because––well, there had been a lot of other stuff going on.

“So, you don’t know what it means?” Pidge concluded.

Lance shook his head. “No clue.”

“Well, Keith has remembered a bunch of things recently, right?” said Hunk. “So … maybe he’ll remember what it means soon.” He sounded uncertain, but looked up at Keith as if waiting for a confirmation.

Keith stiffened at the mention of his name, one of his hands rising to close in a fist around his talisman. “I––I don’t know,” he said. “All I can remember right now is that I’ve had it pretty much my whole life, that it’s something important. But I still don’t know why.”

They were all quiet for a moment before Lance cleared his throat.

“Anyway, we can figure out the details later. What we do know is that the talismans are probably connected somehow. Not just because they look the same, but … well, there’s one other thing.”

Hunk and Pidge stared at him expectantly, and Lance tried to form the words to explain. He had kind of hoped Keith would chime in––but when he only gave Lance a blank look instead, Lance let out a short sigh.

“We think maybe … we created the wormhole.”

At that, his friends gawked at him. “Wait, what?” Pidge blurted.

“I know, it sounds crazy,” Lance said, “but listen …”

He explained it as logically as he could––how Keith’s talisman had been glowing when the wormhole appeared, how he’d felt his own talisman getting warmer, how they’d both felt some huge spike in energy. Obviously, they didn’t know much more than that, but it had to be connected somehow.

“Hmm. Like I said earlier, it does somehow make a lot of sense,” Hunk said after Lance had finished. He scratched his chin. “Although I’m still trying to wrap my head around what it all means.”

Lance scoffed. “You and me both, buddy.”

He fiddled with the chain on his talisman, trying to ignore the sudden heavy feeling in his stomach. There was still so much he didn’t know, and he didn’t even know where to begin. Some part of him had secretly hoped that Keith would remember something as soon as he saw Lance’s talisman, but it seemed that now they were left with more questions than answers.

“Anyway, we need to decide where to go from here. Obviously we’re kinda on the run now, what with Keith being wanted by the Galran government and all. So, maybe it’ll be best to lay low for at least a couple more days. And then …”

He looked over at Keith, who was now staring intensely at the floor. “I think I need to go back to Daibazaal,” he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw Hunk and Pidge both visibly stiffen at the words.

“Whoa. Keith, are you sure that’s a good idea?” said Hunk, brow furrowing with worry. “It seems like that Zarkon guy really has it out for you.”

“I know.” A slight edge had crept into Keith’s voice, but then he sighed and continued more calmly. “But I can’t just do nothing. I––I know I didn’t kill my parents. Zarkon is behind this somehow, plus he’s holding my best friend captive. I have to do something about it.”

Hunk chewed his lip for a moment in contemplation. “Okay, I get that. But you can’t just go back to Daibazaal by yourself. Unless …” His eyes widened with a sudden realization as his gaze shifted over from Keith to Lance. “Wait, Lance you weren’t thinking … No, no way.”

“Look, I don’t know,” Lance said, holding up his hands. “Obviously, we need a more solid plan. But, think about it. If the talismans are powerful enough to create a wormhole, who knows what else they can do? They might be the key to helping Keith rescue his friend, and––who knows, maybe even face Zarkon.” He noticed how Keith went rigid at those words and added, “Okay, I may be getting ahead of myself there, but still …”

He looked around at his friends, trying to gauge their reactions. Keith looked very pale, face drawn and brows knitted together in a frown. Hunk looked like he was about to throw up.

Pidge, on the other hand, had been strangely silent for the past couple of minutes. She stood next to the table, her head lowered, one hand clenching on the back of a nearby chair.

Something occurred to Lance then, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he realized he hadn’t thought about how all this was affecting her. He took a step forward.

“Pidge, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I know this is all getting in the way of you going to meet your brother, but maybe we can––”

“Wait,” Pidge cut him off, with a sudden firmness to her voice that stopped Lance in his tracks. She closed her eyes and opened them again, releasing a shaky sigh. “I need to tell you guys something.”

The other three exchanged bewildered looks before turning their attention back to Pidge again.

“Okay,” Lance said slowly. “What is it?”

Pidge bit her lip before answering. “I … I haven’t been telling you guys the truth about where my brother is. He’s not on Zuleraan.” She swallowed. “He’s on Daibazaal.”

Lance wasn’t sure what he’d expected to hear, but it hadn’t been that. He could tell Keith and Hunk were just as surprised, judging by how their posture stiffened.

“Whoa, what?” Hunk exclaimed. “Why?”

“Just … let me explain.” Pidge reached up to scratch the back of her head. Rover seemed to sense her distress and hovered by her shoulder, but she waved the little droid away. “My name isn’t really Pidge Gunderson,” she said. “It’s Katie Holt.”

Katie Holt. The name sparked something in Lance’s brain, and he started to fuse all the puzzle pieces together. Holt … Why was that name so familiar?

Then it hit him all at once: how he could’ve sworn he’d seen Pidge somewhere before, how she’d seemed so freaked out by the sign of the Galran symbol on the ship that had landed on Rivlax, how upset she’d been to find out Keith was from Daibazaal …

“Wait a second,” he blurted. “You … you’re Samuel Holt’s daughter, aren’t you? Samuel and Matthew Holt are your dad and brother.”

Pidge winced a little and then nodded.

Hunk gasped.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed, running a hand down his face. “I can’t believe it.”

“Um … what?” Keith said, looking back and forth between the three others. “What are you talking about? Who are Samuel and Matthew Holt?”

Pidge hesitated, glancing from Hunk to Lance and back again like she expected one of them to jump in and explain. When neither of them said anything, she drew in a deep breath.

“My dad is a war journalist. He and my mom met during the Trona-Julinak War—I wasn’t lying when I told you guys that part, just the part about my parents both being doctors. Only my mom is.

“My older brother, Matt … he’s been studying war journalism the past few years, too, so he’d been working with my dad on a lot of projects. The two of them went to Daibazaal together on an assignment, since there’d been a lot of tension there recently.

“It wasn’t supposed to be super dangerous or anything. They were just supposed to gather some information about the current state of things and report back home, but then …”

Pidge stopped for a moment, a long breath shuddering out of her.

“The assassination of the Emperor and Empress happened. Zarkon took the throne—and he pretty much put the whole Galran empire on lockdown. Just … nothing and no one being allowed to leave. Not even any news, besides anything he decides to broadcast out to neighboring galaxies.

“No one really knows for sure what happened to any foreigners on the planet, but …” Pidge’s voice had started to shake, and she took a moment to compose herself again. “It’s highly suspected that any of them, especially journalists, would probably have been captured, or—or worse.”

“Yeah, this was like … all over the news across multiple galaxies,” Hunk explained to Keith. “Everyone was talking about the Holts, people were holding these protests demanding for them to be freed.”

Pidge nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “It didn’t make any difference,” she said darkly. “Zarkon is running a dictatorship now, and the Galran army is armed to the teeth. Other planets could try to start a war with them, but right now everyone seems to be waiting for some kind of negotiation to happen instead.”

She wiped a trembling hand across her eyes, and there was a sudden fierce gleam to them when she looked up again.

“I couldn’t just wait around to see what would happen. My dad and brother are trapped on Daibazaal somewhere. And I’m going to find them.”

Lance tried to process all of this, rubbing at his temples. “Wait. You were going to try to go to Daibazaal and break your brother and dad out of prison by yourself?”

Pidge crossed her arms and stuck her chin out stubbornly, although there was still a pained look in her eyes.

“What else was I supposed to do? They’re my family.”

“I know, I know. Listen, I totally understand that. But like, did you even have a plan?”

After a moment, Pidge looked away sheepishly. “Well … no, not really,” she admitted. “I was hoping to get to Galjor and then make my way to Daibazaal from there and then … I don’t know. Try to track down as much information as I could. I at least have the information about where Matt and my dad were located, so I figured I could start there.”

She looked around at the other three in turn, her eyes finally landing on Keith. “I’m sorry I seemed upset earlier when I found out you were from Daibazaal, Keith. I just … I’ve spent all this time hating the Galra because of what happened to my dad and brother, but I … I know none of that is your fault. I mean, yeah, I’m still trying to get used to it and all, but … I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I’m sorry.”

The words all came out in a rush, like she had been rehearsing them in her head for the past couple hours. Her shoulders hunched as she looked up at Keith nervously, and he blinked back at her in surprise.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. He looked around at the others one-by-one. “I understand if any of you don’t trust me, now that we know the truth. And if––if you think it would be best for me to leave––”

“Hey, no,” Hunk said, standing up from his seat at the table. “We don’t want you to leave, Keith. We’re all on the same side here. Right, guys?” Lance and Pidge nodded in agreement. “I don’t think any of us trust Zarkon one bit. And we want to help you. I mean, I’m not thrilled at the idea of going to Daibazaal, but if your friend Shiro is in trouble there … and if Pidge’s brother and dad are there, too … it kinda makes sense for us all to stick together. Plus, maybe Lance is right––maybe the talismans are some kinda clue, or could help us somehow.”

Hunk brought his rambling to a stop, glancing around at everyone as he waited for a response.

When no one else spoke, Lance cleared his throat. “Good point, Hunk. It seems like all the signs are pointing to us going to Daibazaal.” When he noticed Keith prickle at the words he continued, “We don’t need to make a decision right now––and obviously we’d need to work out the details, since we can’t just go waltzing into some high-security Galra prison or whatever.

“But if we’re gonna save Shiro and Pidge’s dad and brother, we all need to be on the same page. No more secrets between us, okay?”

After a moment of hesitation, the other three nodded.

“Good. Anyone need to lay anything else out on the table?”

There was a brief silence. Then Hunk blurted, “Lance and I used to be smugglers.”

“Hunk.”

“What? You’re the one who said no more secrets!”

“Wait––you what?” Keith said.

Lance sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was really stupid, okay? When we first left home, Hunk and I met this guy named Rolo at a trading outpost and he offered us a ton of gac to transport this mineral called scaultrite. We didn’t know at the time it was being used to make some kind of illegal explosives. But anyway, long story short … Rolo eventually got caught and ratted us out.”

“Oh,” Pidge said, her eyes widening with a sudden realization. “Is that why you were acting so weird in the marketplace when I met you guys? You thought someone was trailing you?”

“I wasn’t acting weird!” Lance huffed. “But, yeah. Some guy was watching me and talking into some kinda comm. It’s not the first time it’s happened.

“Anyway, our smuggling days are long gone. We gave it up as soon as we realized what was going on. On the bright side, we made enough money to buy Blue.” He patted the wall of the ship affectionately. “Plus, uh, we have bigger problems to worry about now that we’re wanted for harboring a runaway prince.”

No one seemed to disagree with that.

“So,” Lance went on. “Now that that’s out of the way, any last secrets anyone wants to share?”

Everyone looked around at each other, but nobody seemed to have any other hidden truths to divulge.

“Good, me either.” Lance held his hand out, palm facing the floor. “Team?”

Hunk nodded right away, stepping forward to put his hand over Lance’s. “Team.”

Pidge was the next to come forward, reaching up to place her small hand over Hunk’s. “Team.”

The three of them all turned towards Keith, who was staring down at their overlapping hands like he was witnessing some strange ritual he had never encountered before. When he noticed everyone watching him expectantly, though, he took a hesitant step forward.

Then, with a firm nod, he laid his hand over the others’. “Team,” he agreed.

Lance felt a surge of something in his veins then––an unshakable confidence that no matter what was going to happen, he had all the right people by his side. He was still looking at Keith, and despite the circumstances, he found himself smiling.

But what was perhaps was more surprising than that was that Keith was smiling timidly back.