shining like the stars

16

Allura leaned in toward the view screen, squinting closely at the runes that marked the now-darkened obelisk. "I don't recognize that writing," she said to Pidge, who stood close to the device. "It's not any I'm familiar with."

"It's not Galra writing?" Keith asked, standing beside Pidge. He had his arms folded and all his attention on the pillar, as if waiting for a new attack, or for it to spit back out his friends. He wanted deeply to lean in and touch it, it almost felt like it was calling to him to do so, but he kept his arms folded and his attention on the conversation because he could do little good from the other side of ... whatever this thing was.

"No. Or, if it is it's a very obscure dialect," Allura said. "The pillar itself doesn't even look Galra in its construction."

"Shiro said it had druid magic," Pidge said. "Druids are Galra, right?"

"Yes, but that does not discount the idea that its construct is foreign in nature, and somehow co-opted and corrupted by the Galra forces."

Keith's hands were curled into tight fists under his folded arms. "I wonder what would happen if we destroyed it," he said grimly, thinking about the weight of his bayard-sword in his hand.

"Whoa there," Pidge said. "No destroying artifacts until we get our teammates back, Keith."

"Yeah, that's a great way to get Lance and Shiro stranded where ever it sent them," Hunk said from the yellow lion, still left outside the ship, on guard. Keith let out a grunt but didn't shift or move his position. "So ... what do we do now?"

"Good question," Pidge said. "Allura, what do you think?"

She sighed over the communicator. "I'm not sure what I think. Perhaps you three should return to the ship, and we'll plan what to do next."

"I'm not leaving," Keith said, eyes never drifting from the obelisk. Pidge hesitated and looked at him, then looked at the small picture of Allura that was projected from the forearm of her armor and gave a little half-shrug.

"Keith," Allura said, and Keith cut her off.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the undercurrent of emotion heavy in his voice.

Allura sighed again over the communications channel. She could very easily have ordered them all back to the castle but didn't. "Your paladin suits only have a limited usage time out of atmosphere," she said. "Please be careful, Keith."

"I'll stay too," Pidge said. "I can do more investigating here than from on board the castle-ship."

Hunk let out a loud groan. "If they're staying, I should stay too," he said, sounding a little mournful but at the same time, determined.

Keith didn't really hear the discussion. He was too focused on the obelisk, and its strange yet familiar script. He kept his arms folded and stared at it and thought, with single-minded focus; I'm not going to lose them both.

#

Waking up from being knock unconscious was a trip. Lance blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling above his head and thought for a moment about how much his head hurt. It was a splitting agony, and he could barely focus on anything at all except for the pain. It was enough that he almost closed his eyes and went back to sleep, except for some random memory of how bad it was to sleep with a concussion and having to keep a cousin awake after he'd gotten one playing soccer years ago. Lance struggled to the surface of his mind, fighting against the pain and opened his eyes again to that unfamiliar ceiling, before slowly but surely hauling himself into a seated position.

He wasn't alone.

It was a holding cell of some kind; open on one side, and with actual, physical bars that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Lance rubbed his face with his hand as he looked at the half-dozen aliens around him, species unfamiliar and only one even vaguely humanoid. "Where am I?" he asked one pink alien who stood on four legs and had an additional two arms, who seemed to be looking directly at him. The alien waved its antennae but didn't seem to acknowledge Lance's question at all. He tapped his arm to bring up his communications to ee if that would tell him anything; but while he was definitely still wearing his paladin suit, none of its external systems seemed to be operational.

No comm. No distress beacon. No scanners. Lance sat forward on the bunk and swung his legs over the edge. "Hey," he said, addressing the pink alien again, a little angrily this time. "Where is this? Did you see the other guy I was with, tall, broad-" Lance spread his hands apart in a generous description of Shiro's shoulders, "scar on his face?" He'd almost said that Shiro was the black paladin, but did not want to give it away ... if whoever had them captured was friendly with Galra (or Galra themselves), he didn't want to knowingly deliver themselves up.

There was a commotion from outside the cell, and the other occupants of the cell all plastered themselves along the bars, murmuring among themselves in a variety of languages that were beyond Lance's comprehension. The suits had a built-in language translator, but that only worked if the suit's computer systems were up and running, and given the lack of everything else, he really wasn't surprised. Lance hauled himself to his feet, and moved to the edge of the cell to see what the ruckus was about.

As he did so, Lance realized that, for the most part, he was taller than most of the aliens in his cell. At least he wouldn't have any trouble seeing what was going on, although two blue aliens that were more torso than lower body made room for Lance to press up against the bars as well. Lance leaned forward as much as he could, and first saw the distinctive purple fur and purple armor of the Galra. Oh. That was definitely not good. Lance started to move back, out of sight – when he realized that the two Galra guards were dragging someone bodily between them and Lance slammed into the bars of the cell, gripping the bars tightly.

"Shiro!"

It was Shiro. He wasn't wearing his paladin armor – instead that jumpsuit and rags he had been wearing when Lance first saw him; head lolled to one side and barely conscious as he was manhandled down the hall. "Shiro!" Lance called again and yanked at the bars of the cell, but they held firm. He turned and slammed his shoulder into them, hoping for a dent, or some kind of distraction, but the Galra didn't even look at the cell Lance was in; opening the one across the hall, and shoving Shiro through. Lance watched as Shiro staggered a few steps under his own power and then collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball, his back to the cell.

Then, as he watched, the image shimmered just a moment, and he could see Shiro, curled on his side, in the paladin armor, before the image was replaced to the one Lance had originally seen.

"What..." Lance said, both hands gripping the bars of the cell again. The aliens around him were still murmuring and chattering in a multitude of foreign languages, but Lance could ignore all that easily, because he was staring at Shiro.

He pressed his helmet to the bars and squeezed his eyes closed. Then he turned his head and looked as far up the hallway in either direction and shrugged. If half his suit's systems were inoperable, chances were good his bayard wouldn't do a lot of damage either, but he wouldn't know until he tried, so Lance took a step back and released his bayard, which then proceeded to transform into his rifle.

"All right," Lance said. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but this is a jailbreak." He pointed the plasma gun at the bars where he was standing, and pulled the trigger.

The gun did not fire.

"Quiznak," Lance said. He moved back to the bars and put one hand on them, staring at Shiro from across the hallway. He hadn't moved, back to them, one hand up and holding his right shoulder and the only indication that he was still alive was his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Hang on, Shiro," Lance said, as if Shiro could hear and acknowledge him. "I'll get you out of here."

Now he just had to figure out how.