INTERSTELLAR ⱽᵒˡᵗʳᵒⁿ

one

GALRA BASES HAD a tendency to be loud. It wasn't the type of loud that rung in your ears or kept your brain overworking, or even the type of loud that gave you a migraine. Because, while all of that was most definitely the reaction to an overwhelmingly loud environment, the Galra prided themselves for being professional, intelligent, and quiet. So, while traversing a Galra base, the surroundings were not loud per se, but the quiet that most halls kept up only made the occasional sound that much more deafening.

For example, after every five doboshes a guard would travel down the long corridor only a few feet away. Their clunky boots clanged with every step, a warning that they were both there and quickly approaching. It was ominous how perfectly in-line the steps were to one another, as if the guard was some kind of robot or other being instead of a person. Their armor was clunky and loud, the unsettling headache-inducing kind, that set both prisoners and escapees on edge.

Good thing he wasn't either of those.

The fluorescent purple lights littering the dark hallways perfectly hid the dark form of the stranger. He was covered head to toe in a dark bodysuit aside from the glowing eyes on his mask and the bright purple light coming from his weapon. He stood crouched to the side of the wall, quietly listening as the guard clunked away and to another part of the Galra ship. Once the sounds slowly dissipated, the stranger looked around twice before jumping into action and traveling down the path the soldier once took.

He prowled like a cat, his movements agile and quick yet without a sound. Almost like he was barefoot, the young man's feet glided on the clean hard ground beneath him as his head darted from side to side. Looking for what? He wasn't quite sure. All he had was a name — one given to a princess too so, you know, no pressure.

His eyes glanced around the hallway, looking for any sign of the princess and where she was being held. It wasn't every day that you met a princess, so he'd better not screw the experience up for himself. He may have been a little cynical and pessimistic at times, but even Zecor's knees felt weak at the sight of royalty. Even her name — Leora — was enough for him to feel lightheaded.

He wondered what exactly happened for her planet to have been taken over. The Aboratics were a race made up of those with great senses. They could hear and see from miles away, had a wonderful relationship with nature which gave them the gift of flight, and had been feared for thousands of deca-phoebs. Even Zecor was surprised when he first received this mission (which he so graciously had for only himself). The thought of even trying to take over the Aboratic planet was enough to make him shiver in his boots, but the fact the Galra empire actually succeeded was even more terrifying.

Zecor let himself clink his sword against the side of the wall as he casually looked around. He was not afraid of the guards, but it would be a bit annoying having to deal with them. Luckily for him, if there was anything Zecor and many other Galra were good at, it was timing. He knew his counting was correct and he knew he had ample time to find the princess and leave. All he had to do was find out where said princess was and they'd be able to get out of there.

But with every cell covered with different alien races, Zecor was slowly giving up hope. Had he gotten on the wrong ship? Had they transported her somewhere else? Or, more morbidly and annoying: had she already been killed? Zecor didn't know, but he needed to find out before the Galra guards came back and alerted anyone with actual powers. His casual quiet steps became quicker as his head snapped back and forth. Each alien he came across was not the one he needed, and he was starting to give up hope. Hope to have completed this mission successfully by himself. Hope that he would be able to meet a princess. Hope that he would find out why this girl was so important anyways.