Chapter Text
Lance made sure to count every human head for each member of his family as the queue moved. Silvio and Nadia were not so little anymore, but still feared they'd grow impatient and wander off to do anything but stay in line. Honestly, he would too, but they've come so far presenting paper after paper, filling surveys by the individual and getting their photos taken, they were one last tedious jam of people away from the vacation of their dreams.
The McClain's spent many years invaded by nightmares of what Lance had to face when he disappeared. Space haunted their dreamscape as much as them pushing him for that scholarship at the Garrison, shipping him off to a void he might never come back.
So when the people who brought their boy home asked to pay them a cruise to the stars, they hesitated. Of course the kids were elated in getting a chance to wear something cool like their uncle's paladin gear, but his mother resisted the idea the most. She caved in once she read the last stop on the itinerary, and the smell of juniberry flowers hit her right in the face.
That sweet girl Lance presented to them once. She carried the perfume of every flower her son had been growing in their garden, the purple ones never leaving the vase by the windowsill. The family needs to go on this trip.
“Last checkpoint before boarding the Andromeda I!” A man announced in the distance.
Lance insisted on carrying everyone's tickets alongside the trolley with their luggage. All ten pieces of paper were torn apart by the man in exchange of glass as he gingerly welcomed them to the ship.
・✱・
He couldn't believe he would find himself doing these kinds of missions again. It's not like he lost the spark, he got used to the light and interacting with people, thinking the grime and shadows of a ventilation system were left to sink with the remnants of Zarkon's empire. If The Blade Of Marmora was right, they had one more spaceship to poke holes at.
Keith double checked the perimeter, the voices echoing through the walls diminished as they walked away. The room was a perfect place to start, dismantling the grille and swiftly falling to the floor like a cat, he tapped onto his armor's comm.
“Found a base, I'll blend in with the crowd and gather intel. Out.” He took off his helmet and breathed some fresh air, sliding his luggage out of the vent and placing it on one of the beds inserted into the wall. When was the last time he wore normal clothes?
Not even in his free days he sported clothing like he used to on Earth, way too accustomed to Galran traditions and the lack thereof, most of them lost alongside Daibazaal. It would surprise anyone outside of the culture how limiting wardrobes could be under a millennium of military regime. Keith had to pack his earthling clothes solely for the success of the mission, now, Kolivan’s insistence in his participation sat better with him rather than some weird racial profiling.
Out of all the members with one Galra parent, Keith grew up knowing what life outside of Zarkon’s grasp was like. His presence wouldn't raise any questions, only if they recognized his identity as a former paladin.
That's why The Blade forged him a passenger card under a false name, and reverse engineered the thing to make hacking more intuitive, saving him from asking Pidge the embarrassing question of how to break into high security spaceships. He just poured all his attention onto the stealth part; camouflage the pod, land on the ship’s roof and find the entry point he memorized from the map. Easy.
The only services the computational menace would lend him were a pair of biker gloves she gifted him for his birthday. They matched his dad's aviator jacket, Shiro took great care of the leather, it looked brand new. The heavy layering of clothing didn't correspond to the occasion, but disguised the Marmora’s suit as a turtleneck, letting Keith have some semblance of armor even as a civilian.
The distant chattering bounced back through the hall again. A particular voice stood right behind his door. Keith crossed his arm over his stomach and wielded the luxite blade, ready to attack.
・✱・
After tutoring both adults and kids alike on opening and closing the doors with their keys, checking his grandparents wellness after passing the stratosphere, and stargazing a shooting star crossing right above the ship as they watched the Moon together, there was one last bedroom for Lance to visit once he finished dispatching everyone's luggage: A whole entire room for himself, his master plan was a success!
Until the lockpad read his name and face printed on the glass key, and the first thing he's met with was a Galran blade tentatively stopping by the throat.
“Lance?! What are you doing here?” The assailant had an awful familiar ring to his words.
Seeing The Blade’s inscriptions glow on the weapon, Lance’s eyes shifted, already knowing who's face they'd land upon.
“Weird way to say «hello», but I'll take it.”
Keith spared a glance to both ways of the hallway before pulling him inside, door shutting behind them. Before Lance could ask any questions, he spoke, “Are you alone?”
“I’m with ya!” Lance laughed at his own joke. Keith didn't.
“Is someone else traveling with you?” He moved the grip on Lance's floral shirt to hold him by the shoulders.
“My family.”
Keith's face began losing color.
“Quantify «family».”
“All my family,” Lance tilted his head, “you guys gifted the cruise to the ten of us.” He remembered clearly Pidge and Shiro stopping by the house to deliver the tickets in person, even had dinner with them and explained how Coran put everybody on to the idea.
He could swear to see Keith's soul leaving his body.
“You didn't know, right?”
Keith shook his head.
It didn't anger Lance in the slightest, his work demanded a big part of his schedule and probably slipped right through lots of other responsibilities. Instead, he smiled to lessen the tension.
“Don’t worry, I didn't know you'll be here– And we’re roommates! Like in the ol’ times!”
That seemed to cheer him up.
“Much like the old times.” Keith's laugh took some effort to leave his mouth.
“Keith… Is something wrong?” He felt Keith’s arms gently glide off his shirt, grinning.
Keith used every fiber of his being to keep up that smile.
“Keith Kogane…” Lance pressed further.
A chill gust of wind brushed their feet. The unclosed vent blew artificial air to snitch on Keith like an annoyed little brother. Lance stared over his friend's shoulder.
“There’s this mission–” He began to confess.
・✱・
Keith told everything The Blade knew about. He had to. Both fought the empire equally, he won the right for the classified information as much as he did.
But Lance's silence proved to be deafening, he only sat on the spare bed, knuckles pale against the edge of the nook.
“So, we might go back to those days, huh?” Lance sighed. His voice didn't quiver, nor the words stumbled. He was just tired—plain tired.
It was foolish to believe ten thousand years of tyranny could be undone within their lifetime, both him and Keith knew that, but how could you not think otherwise? After the fate-defying things they faced on a daily basis? After what people sacrificed for a tick of peace?
“It’s some rumours, Lance,” Keith sat next to him, his weight threatened to pull his shoulder-to-shoulder, “even if it's true, the blades can overwhelm ‘em.”
“Promise that.” The sudden strength in his voice took Keith by surprise.
“Promise me that,” Lance repeated after collecting himself, “we’re just going to snoop around and call The Blade as soon as something is going on.” He picked his gaze off the floor and pleaded with him, “I don’t want to ruin my family's vacation.”
Keith's hand rested on Lance's back.
“Sure.”
Gravity lightened around them.
“Sooo…” Lance rebooted to his usual self, “wanna go out and listen to some gossip?”
Of course Lance picked the bar as a place to start—it made sense! Masses gather in the same spot and all kinds of illicit activity goes under the radar. But still, why did Lance think flirting with the waitress served something but himself?
Keith mentally checked out from the conversation long ago, scanning the area for an alien in particular; Fish guy, robot eye, blue scales, he combed through the sea of people, fish guy, robot eye, blue scales. The «blue» part was going to be difficult with the lights changing to the song's beat.
A metallic orb stared at him behind a water tank small enough to fit the carbon copy of an angler fish for a head. How that didn't fry the fishman’s brain was beyond Keith, intrigued by although the fish man had a pair of fins, the bubbles originated from his wide, chapped lips.
“That’s Gylrot.” Lance rested his chin on Keith's shoulder to defy the loud music, casually sneaking an arm around him to make the conversation appear casual, “It’s his fifth time on the ship.”
Keith furrowed his brows in confusion.
“Mandy knows the regulars.” Lance explained, raising his hand to express his gratitude at her with a wink. She matched his playful attitude in return.
“Doesn’t she want to know you better, too?”
“Can’t I be friendly with the ladies?”
“You’re always friendly to the ladies.” Keith exaggerated for the sake of winning the argument.
Gylrot kept glaring at them, his robot eye twitched to Lance once the lights turned red. Keith directed his attention back at him with a calculated move of his hand, Gylrot understood the signal and pointed at the empty seats of the circular couch he sat on. The rows of similar pockets separated by a thin membrane made Keith think of the VIP rooms he saw in movies.
He took no time in linking arms with Lance to reach the velvety cushions, not flinching anymore at how most species dwarfed him. Unlike Lance who let out a yelp.
“Didn’t know The Blade recruited outside of their kin.” Gylrot said crystal clear, the music was drowned by the isolation the bubble casted upon them.
Keith had the itch to correct him, but decided not to. There were more important things to discuss.
“You work for the Resurgence.”
“I dealt cargo to them,” he handed both him and Lance an even number of cards, “much like anyone from my planet is cornered to do. Bring them enough barrels for clean water for my family to survive.”
“Barrels of…?” Keith prompted, cards in hand, clueless about the game rules. Lance bought himself some time snatching a cocktail from the table.
“Pikros.” He continued, “A liquid used for dyes, extremely volatile when dry. We found out once our water began running low.”
“How much of it is on the ship?”
Lance choked on his drink.
“Enough to blow up the stern.” Gylrot slid a downward card in Keith's way.
“And where would they pick the cargo?” Keith mirrored him with a random card, urging Lance to do the same despite his coughing.
There was a security guard who kept looking in their direction from across the bar.
“As soon as the ship stops, they'll unload with the passengers and deliver them somewhere.” Gylrot used the webbed parts of his hand to stick the cards onto his palm and turn them around. His left eye flipped in his socket, probably noticing the guard swiftly passing through everyone, straight course to where they were.
Neither could begin to recognize the drawings on the cards when Gylrot sent them flying by slamming the table.
“Quiznak, you guys are cheating!” He feigned rage, his yelling wasn't going to be heard but it added credibility, “I will give you my eye over my dead body!”
A hard surface was slipped between Keith's fingers, Gylrot’s viscous hand brushed over his.
“Remember they're not kind to Alteans.” Was his last warning before Keith was pushed.
Lance caught him after a few stumbles. It was their cue to leave, diving into the multitude, without any of the guards recognizing Lance's Altean marks.
・✱・
“You lied!” Lance began arguing once they were back in the bedroom again.
“I didn't!” Keith fought back, not steering his eyes off his watch’s screen, “These people were trafficking stuff and using the cruise as decoy. I didn't know it was this amount of explosives.”
“Oh, so you knew it was explosives?” He accused.
“No, I thought they were guns.” Keith retorted calmly.
“Doesn’t make it any better!” Lance thrashed his arms in the air for emphasis, “Keith, my family is here and all I want right now is to evacuate back to Earth.”
“I don’t think that's possible.” His voice lost all the edge.
“Why not? I could lie and say it's an emergency or–”
“They know you're here.” Keith finally dropped his arm, “Even if they let you leave, they know your address. You won't be safe.”
Lance threw the key away from him like a scorching piece of iron, it bounced off the floor and landed on Keith's bed with the folded paper Gylrot gave to him.
“You promised…” His knees felt weak, “I can't do this. I can't. We don't have the Lions anymore. You got The Blade, but what do I have? Just a farm and a bunch of flowers.”
He didn't realize when he started pacing through the room, clutching his shorter strands of hair. Keith intently watched him over the bed, inviting him to sit on the mattress when he locked eyes with Lance. He obliged.
“Let me take care of it.” Keith's words landed softly to his ears, “Your family will stay out of this.”
Lance fidgeted with the key he threw, the glass was smooth everywhere except for the area that braced the impact.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “but I need to think. I don’t want you blowing up the ship if you do.”
Keith snorted.
“I won't! Idiot.” He gently punched him in the arm. Lance collided his and Keith's shoulders together.
The tranquility of the moment led Lance's eyes to wander over the piece of paper, unfolding it with his free hand. It was a blurry picture of a stack of barrels in a storage room, the dark vision filter tainted everything in hues of green. Seemed furtively taken by Gylrot. Why did he choose to print it puzzled Lance until he concluded they must revise his digital data, the robotic implant gained a much darker purpose in his head.
Over the paper’s damp corner, a hastily written note was shoved far at the right:
«Please, fulfill your end of the bargain. Save my family.»
Lance whined, wishing he could have never learned to read.
“I’ll help you only this time.” He handed Keith the photo.