Lance Alone

Part 9 (Lance)

At last, Lance found someone who could get him close to Earth--or at least, fairly close. His sponsor was an old, frail spaceship captain who wouldn't say what he traded, but Lance could tell that the boxes were heavy--very heavy. "Don't think you're getting a free ride out of this, sonny! Just because you don't have any GAC doesn't mean I'm taking you there for free out of the kindness of my heart--no sir! You're gonna work!" His first job was carrying those incredibly heavy crates into the cargo hold. Even though Lance was pretty strong, he nearly busted his back carrying the first one. "The sooner you load those in, the sooner we leave!" the captain reminded him, and then stomped into the ship to sit in his captain's chair and flick the switches.
Even though it seemed impossible, Lance finally had all of the boxes loaded onto the ship before afternoon.
Lance tried pushing the boxes, but they hardly budged. Then he tried pulling them with a rope, still without much luck. Eventually he figured out that if he wore his paladin armor, he could turn on the jetpack while pushing the box to give it just the extra force it needed to get into the ship.
The captain didn't seem impressed with his work, just nodded and set the course.
"The latrine needs cleaning, too. Alatoch delicacies don't sit well in my system."
Lance wasn't sure what was going to get this guy to crack a smile, but he just accepted it wasn't going to happen.
Once the ship got underway, the captain had a never-ending list of jobs for him to do: clean out the bathroom, sweep the floors, scrub the windows. This ship was much smaller than the Castle, and seemed like it hadn't been cleaned since it was built. Everything creaked and groaned, and most of the parts had a layer of rust. The pod from the castle was stowed in the loading bay, probably gaining a layer of grime. At least back on Earth, there were plenty of showers. Or maybe he would just jump in the water by the ocean to get the space grime off.

Any attempt Lance made at conversation with the old captain ended quickly and without much fanfare. Personal questions were a dead end. Small talk was useless. Unless he was giving him an order, the captain was silent, or grumbling under his breath about not being able to smoke due to the air filters. For the first time since he left, Lance finally realized how alone he truly felt.

After Keith yelled at him, Lance started wandering around the ship, trying to find somewhere quiet to be with his thoughts. All those things Keith said--that he acted out to get attention, that he needed special treatment just because he would whine about it otherwise--were they true? Sure, he wasn't the best pilot, or the smartest, or even the best cook, but he would die before anything happened to his friends. But if no one stood up for him... maybe they agreed with Keith. Maybe he was a seventh wheel after all. One thing was for certain: Shiro never would have treated him like this. Shiro was the greatest leader ever. If he was gone for good, did that mean the universe's greatest hope was gone, too?

He found himself in Blue's Hangar, looking up at the beautiful machine. "Why did you pick me?" he asked, "Why me? Why not the others?"

But the lion didn't respond. Not in words, not even in a flash of its eyes. Lance took a seat by it's paws, legs crossed.

"Red probably wouldn't even let me fly her. She's not like you. She's too temperamental. She wouldn't even let Keith fly her at first," Lance found himself just talking to the lion, not even caring if she was listening. "Of course, being able to fly the red lion would be awesome, no offense. I can do anything Keith can do."

He looked up at the majestic blue body. "But even if I could, and we could find another paladin for you, then does that just go to show how replaceable I am? What if I wasn't here, would they have already defeated Zarkon?"

No response from the lion. Lance sighed and lied down on the ground. "I get it. You don't want to talk to me either."