shining like the stars

62

Hunk sat with his back firmly against a fallen pillar, his bayard transformed into a blaster cannon and laid heavy over his lap. "Nope," he said out loud, although his voice was swallowed by the immense darkness. "Nope, nope." He'd been dragged to way too many horror movies by Lance on weekend pass to even begin with this. "Look," he called out into the darkness, hoping on the off-chance that whatever monstrosity lurked beyond his perception that it spoke a common tongue, "I just wanna get over there to the memory core, all right? I don't wanna disturb anything, I'm not here to take your stuff, I just wanna go about this stupid trial and go home."

There was no response. Hunk peeked over the pillar; the wan light that filtered from the entrance hallway was not enough to see by, but his eyes were slowly adjusting. The memory core was farther back, the lettering still a warm gold, glowing but not casting enough light to see with. Whatever it was that had crossed between the glowing letters and Hunk's line of sight did not move through it again, and as he peered through the darkness he didn't hear anything. The air in the temple was heavy and still.

Then, from behind him, the sound of something moving. He turned quickly as the figure cut across the light coming from the entrance-way; they didn't seem to be coming for him, though — they were large and bipedal and just as Hunk thought they were going to leave the temple the figure slammed one appendage into the wall and oh, he heard that as they shouted a single word in a foreign tongue he didn't recognize.

Hunk hurried up and over the pillar, putting it between him and the enemy, dragging the blaster cannon with him. The figure moved quickly and threw something; he couldn't tell what until they shouted again and there was a brilliant explosion of light. Hunk squawked and covered his eyes with his hand too late, dazzled.

They used the fact that he was temporarily blinded against him, and the next thing he knew Hunk was on his back on the temple floor. He flailed out with the cannon, unwilling to actually fire it but using it at a blunt object, a battering ram, and felt it impact something soft and squishy. There was a muffled grunt and a yelp, and he rolled, blinking stars from his eyes and trying to scramble away.

Whatever it was that was thrown into the air illuminated the temple. He could see clearly now the extent of the ruins, and the memory core half-ripped from the wall. The letters still glowed warm, but there was damage there, like something with large claws had dragged it half from the wall and scarred it. All of this was observed and filed away because right now Hunk was staring at the person crouched on the fallen pillar. They were dressed all in black, a form-fitting pilot jumpsuit that showed off a clearly mammalian female form. Hunk stared as she straightened; helmet-covered head cocked down and looking at him.

"Uh," Hunk said, both hands still on his blaster cannon. "Sorry I hit you with the cannon, but — can you understand me?"

She moved slowly down the pillar, not dismounting from it. "I don't want any trouble," Hunk added, turning slowly to keep her in his line of sight with his weapon. "I'm just here for the trial."

"Hey!"

Lance's voice came out of nowhere. Hunk physically jerked and she didn't even turn toward the interloper, instead leaping straight for Hunk. He tried to bring his weapon to bear but she was faster than that and she took him down, back slamming into the debris-ridden floor. She turned a perfect flip and ran toward the memory core as Hunk wheezed, the wind knocked clearly out of him.

"Hey, you!" Lance yelled, stumbling a bit over the pillar as he hopped it, his bayard-rifle in one hand. He nearly tripped over Hunk, still lying on his back on the floor. "Hunk!"

"Lance, man," Hunk said as Lance grabbed his tunic with one hand, trying to help Hunk roll to his feet.

"Who the hell is that?" Lance asked, already tracking the female as she made it to the memory core. "Lady!" he yelled, leaving Hunk to haul himself to his feet. "Who the hell are y-"

He barely managed to duck the plasma bolt shot from the pistol she carried at her hip. Hunk ducked reflexively although the shot had gone wide, well above his head. "What the hell," Lance yelped, as the female pilot slammed one hand against the memory core with a triumphant noise.

Nothing happened.

She stood there for a moment, clearly puzzled — then she was moving again, headed directly for Lance. Lance, who had been running toward her, skidded to a halt and tried to aim before she clotheslined him.

He was not successful.

Lance hit the ground with a loud grunt, and dropped his rifle. The bayard skittered away, and she went for the larger weapon. However, when she touched the bayard it reverted to its natural form — and she jerked her hand away like it was scalded. "Stay put," Hunk said, and as she moved in her crouch, startled, Hunk gestured with his blaster cannon. "I will shoot you with this thing," he threatened, as she stood.

She said something again in a language that didn't sound like anything familiar. She made a noise of abject frustration, then gestured at the memory core. "Are you paladins?" she said, clearly.

"Yeah," Hunk said, as Lance sat up groaning. "We're paladins. Who are you?"

This time, she moved slowly, one hand held out, palm up. Then she unhooked her helmet and removed it, letting it dangle in one hand as she shook her hair out. It was a deep amber color, tied in a tight braid that was pinned up against her head; and it was the same color as the familiar markings under her eyes. "I am Illianya of Altea," she said, and gestured toward the memory core. "And I was chosen to become the Yellow Paladin."

#

Shiro hadn't said anything for a very long time. He was standing against the bars of the holding cell, one shoulder leaned into them, and was staring out at the hallway. Keith had discovered his legs were no longer up to the task of holding him and he'd slid into a seated position against the far wall. He was drained, emotionally exhausted and he had really no idea where to go from here, or what to do. Shiro wouldn't look at him and that alone hurt.

Not that he didn't deserve it. Keith put his hand on his neck; but he was wearing his paladin armor for some reason, and the thick jumpsuit covered up what his palm was searching for. "I was born on this ship," Keith said finally, just for something to fill the wretched silence.

Shiro shifted his weight but didn't look at him. Keith tilted his head back against the wall. "My mother was from Earth. I don't know what happened to her." This was something he'd practiced in his head so many times; there was never going to be a good time to share any of this information. "I'm not ... Shiro, I'm not one of them. I escaped, I didn't want to be here..."

"The guard is coming back." Shiro said this levelly, casually, as if Keith hadn't spoken at all.

He stood slowly. It took a few deep breaths to connect to his center again, to draw his shoulders back, to mask his weakness. By the time the old Galra soldier who ran the brig came to unlock the door Keith knew he didn't look anywhere near as scared or vulnerable as he felt.

"The prisoner will be accompanying me," he said. The guard shrugged his shoulders and did not close the cell, holding the door open for Keith to exit. He hesitated outside the cell, and as he turned the guard had entered the cell with a pair of restraint cuffs. Before he could open his mouth to say that it wouldn't be necessary, the guard had clapped them on Shiro. Shiro did not put up a fight. He did look up and meet Keith's eye, and Keith wasn't certain what he saw there.

"I'm sorry," Keith said softly as Shiro stepped outside the cell, wrists bound together in front of him.

"Do you need backup?" the guard said with a snort, closing the cell's door.

"I can handle him," Keith said, and indicated with his head which direction they were meant to go. Without a word, Shiro started walking in that direction and Keith followed.

"Can you?" Shiro asked as they walked, his jaw set tight, eyes straight ahead. "Handle me?"

Keith did not respond.