The Color of Life is Red

The Shipyard

The mission was simple: sneak onto the cargo ship, locate the Galra's information, get the hell out. Compared to their previous tasks, that wasn't hard. But in action, it was a lot more complicated. The instructions assumed that no Galra members would be watching. If even one spotted them, it would ruin the entire thing. So rules were established.

Pidge sat at the desk, her laptop open and a map spread over the table. Lance watched with crossed arms as Keith explained. He placed his hands on the map, "Rule one: don't be fucking seen. Rule two: when I say abort, you get your ass out.

"Rule three: of we have to kill a Galra, we terminate the mission. No negotiation. Rule four-"

"You have a lot of rules," Pidge swung the chair from side to side using the toe of her green converse.

Keith gave her an annoyed look and continued, "Rule four: in the event that one of us gets hurt, Pidge," he pointed to her, "You direct us out of there."

She raised an unamused eyebrow, "What if someone dies?"

"That's not gonna happen."

"But what if it-"

"We don't leave them." Lance joined the conversation, "If we leave the body, it will add the survivors to the Galra hit list." He motioned to Pidge with his shoulder, "They don't know we have Katie." He made eye contact with Keith, "And they don't know you're alive."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Was it simple? Very simple. Risky? Way too risky.

Pidge sat up with a dramatic grunt, "Well, it's now or never. You guys need to get going."

Lance scanned the shipyard with careful eyes. It was dark and the air was filled with a salty mist. Sparse yellow lights framed the poorly lit dock. He whispered to Keith through his mask, "I don't see anyone."

He walked beside him, "Me either." He motioned forward with his head, "That's the ship."

Sneaking onto the boat wasn't hard. In fact, it was too easy. Lance and Keith weaved their way through the various cargo. They didn't see anyone. Lance squinted in suspicion, "Lucifer, this isn't right."

Keith kept his eyes ahead as they talked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's no one." He continued his search. "Like, at all."

"And?"

He stopped walking and waited for Keith. After a few more steps, Keith noticed he wasn't behind him. He turned around and gave him a questioning look. Lance took in a sharp breath, "I think this is a trap. It's way too easy."

Keith rubbed his forehead, "Yeah, I know."

"Should we abort?" Lance waited for an answer that took forever to come.

After a solid minute, Keith responded. "No. Let's continue." He turned to continue walking.

Lance followed. One thing he learned through his job was to always be on the same page. If Keith said to continue, they did. They were a team. Lance remembered their fight. He hated being angry with Keith. It wasn't like he had a real reason; he just wanted to be angry.

Keith walked up to a door, crouching down to pick the lock. Lance stayed on lookout as he opened it.

"I'm in," Keith pushed it open with a sputtered creak.

Lance eyed his surroundings suspiciously. It was way too easy. He turned and entered the room. It was a small office; papers and folders lied on every surface- including the floor. Keith thumbed through the filing cabinet in the corner as Lance watched for any Galra. He kept his eyes on the outside as he spoke. "Lucifer, this is a trap."

"Keep quiet, I found the folder."

Lance bit his lip to keep his mouth shut. He took a quick look over his shoulder at Keith. He held a flashlight in his mouth as he frantically searched through the file. With a deep breath, Lance stepped out of the room and walked around the outside of the office. He still couldn't find anyone. But something was off. He could feel it in his stomach.

Lance spoke into his earpiece, "Hey Lucifer, have you found the-"

Lance's speech was cut off by a towel around his throat. A hand took his earpiece out and crushed it under their boot. Lance struggled, kicking back and pushing away. Whoever held him wasn't letting go. Lance was pulled back away from where Keith was. His boots scraped the metal floor as he tried to find adequate footing. Suddenly, he was thrown down and knocked out with a quick punch to the temple.