Chapter Text
The first time Lance saw him, it was a blurry, rather useless picture. And that’s exactly what he said.
“We weren’t the ones to take it,” Pidge shrugged, pushing up her glasses, “it was sent in by an anonymous source.” Well, that explained it, he supposed.
“How am I supposed to know who to hit from that ? All I see is a purple smudge. Every Galra I know of is purple,” Lance took the photo from Pidge’s hand and rotated it around as if the difference of lighting would somehow make it better.
“Stop screwing around,” Pidge grumbled, snatching the picture back and shoving it into her pocket.
“So what’re the specifics? Who, what, when, where, why, and how?”
“One of Zarkon’s generals. The source said that he oversees the quintessence transports in galaxy 706. They’re supposed to have a huge transport in a couple days, which is when we’ll strike. Shiro and I are going in to set a couple bombs in a separate wing, and once you’re in place, we’ll set them off five minutes after so you have cover to get back out. Hunk’ll be waiting outside in case you run into trouble to cover you,” Pidge informed him, pulling up a map of the cargo ship on a holographic screen and pointing to the spots she indicated.
“Sounds like a plan,” Lance stretched his arms over his head and scratches his stomach, “I mean, what can go wrong? The one and only Lance is at the helm!”
“Please don’t say that,” Pidge groaned, closing the hologram and stepping towards her computer.
“Oh, come on. Just because it’s my first solo mission, doesn’t mean something will definitely go wrong,” Lance grinned, following the shorter girl.
“Lance, please stop talking. You just jinxed the mission. Twice.”
“Doesn’t that mean that it’s positively jinxed? You know, like how two negatives make a positive,” Lance pointed out, “anyway my stomach is a rumblin’ and Hunk said he’d cook tonight. See ya!” Pidge watched the lanky teen dart out of the room.
“We’re screwed.” Rover beeped in agreement.
***
“Okay Lance, it’s showtime,” Lance whispered to himself, shaking out his limbs and swinging the two-foot sniper rifle over his shoulder. After making sure everything was in place, he lifted his helmet over his head.
“You ready, Lance?” Shiro’s voice murmured through his helmet.
“I’m always ready,” Lance smirked, striding toward the ramp leading onto the Galra ship.
“Just, make sure you aren’t seen. It’d be a pain if we had to clean that up,” Pidge pleaded.
“Ah, come on, Pidge. He’s got it. I believe in you, buddy!” Hunk’s reassuring voice called.
“Aw, see Pidge! Hunk believes in me!”
“Just….get moving before we run out of time,” Pidge sighed. Lance slowly edged down the ramp and onto the smooth, purple surface of the cargo vessel.
“Engaging camouflage,” Pidge announced. Lance’s lion slowly disappeared, though it wasn’t as perfect as Pidge’s invisibility shield. However, it lasted much, much longer.
“Alright, I’m on my way,” Lance whispered into his comm before moving down the walkway.
“Okay, buddy, there’s a hatch three feet away, you see it?” Hunk instructed.
“Yup, see it. Boarding the ship,” Lance responded, opening said hatch and slipping inside. He landed with a gentle thud. “Geez, the interior designing of these places get so boring. A simple painting would really spice it up.”
“Lance, focus,” Shiro’s low voice murmured over the mic.
“We’re in position,” Pidge reported, “you have to hurry, Lance. The ship picking up the quintessence will be here soon.”
“Right, on it,” Lance forced himself to focus on moving down the hallway swiftly, but quietly.
“Patrol up ahead,” Hunk reported. Lance pressed himself against the wall’s corner, listening as the tapping of feet grew steadily louder. Five bots turned the corner and Lance froze his breathing, watching as the figures made their steady retreat down the hall.
“They’ll be circling back soon, so hurry and take the right down the corridor they just came from and keep going straight,” Hunk told him.
“Turning and going straight,” Lance reported back, pushing himself into motion. It took three more minutes of turn, halt, straight, halt, turn, straight, halt before Lance finally reached the last final steps to get to his perch.
“Okay, there’s three guys in the next room. One is straight ahead and the other two are flanking him, facing the door. If you go in--” Lance shouted as he rushed into the room, bayard firing bright blue shots at the three soldiers inside. The one at the console tried to reach for the comm but was stopped midway with a shot through the head. “...or you could do that.” Lance swaggered over to the console and closed the files the Galra soldier had, had up.
Ships were lined up outside, cargo and supplies being loaded on and off. Soldiers lined the landing docks, heads rotating and examining each and every person that walked past them. There were at least a hundred ships, and all of them were fueling the Galra Empire.
“We should blow some of these up. That would slow down the Galra, right?”
“We don’t have time. Once you kill the general, all hell will break loose and we’ll only have a small window to get out,” Pidge responded, “trust me, I was thinking the same thing earlier.” Lance could hear the bitterness in her tone and winced in sympathy. They all missed their family, but Pidge really had it hard.
“Next time, am I right?” he awkwardly chuckled.
“Next time,” Lance could hear the smile in Pidge’s voice and grinned.
“Okay, Lance. There’s a stairwell out the door to your left. At the top of them are air vents that’ll take you to another hatch to get back up onto the exterior of the ship. You should be able to get a clear shot of the target once you’re up there,” Hunk guided as Lance moved out the door, lowering into a crouch.
“How will I know who’s the target. That picture really didn’t help,” Lance muttered, peeking around the corner before climbing into the air vents.
“I’ll be able to tell. The source knew the picture was pretty bad and sent me a list of physical traits when I asked,” Pidge responded. Pidge’s swirly-eyed logo popped up onto Lance’s visor, before shrinking and moving into the upper right corner. “Alright, I can see what you see now.” Lance narrowed his eyes before making a circle with one hand and putting the finger of his other hand through it. “Lance, knock it off.”
“Sorry, just had to be sure,” Lance continued through the air vent, listening as Hunk guided him through the turns and rises. Climbing out of the vent was one of the best moments of his life.
“Oh, God,” he groaned struggling to pop his back without standing and making himself obvious, “next time Pidge is going in the vent.”
“Lance, focus, we only have a couple minutes,” Shiro warned.
“Right sorry,” Lance stretched out on his stomach and scooted forward until he was able to lean over the sleek bend of the ship’s body, peeking out at the loading platform below him. There were numerous soldiers milling about, ducking behind giant cargo boxes and chatting amongst each other. Armored sentinels scanned the area, mechanical heads moving back and forth with robot smoothness. Lance could see the towering yellow containers, quintessence swirling and bubbling as the Galra soldiers readied it to be loaded onto the next ship. It would be hard to get a clear shot with all of this traffic. “Alright, game time people.” Lance reached over his shoulder and pulled the sniper rifle off his back. He swiftly and efficiently set up the legs of the rifle, adjusting the scope with practiced ease and slotting his shoulder against the butt of it and wiggling into position.
“Start scanning the area and I’ll let you know when I see him,” Pidge said. Lance peered into the scope, eye scanning each and every face. He looked into the crowds, on cargo ramps, stopping to let Pidge examine their faces and compare them to her list.
“Pidge--”
“Right there!” Lance froze, arms tensing as he quickly zeroed in on the person. He was
tall, lanky, and stood ramrod straight. Lance could make out the profile of his face, the gentle swoop of his nose and the way his eyes glowed in the typical Galra fashion. But there was something different about him. He didn’t have the square jaw that all of the other Galra men had. His face was soft and youthful, cheeks chubby but not in a way that would take from his, pretty obvious, good looks. He couldn’t be any older than Lance, yet he wore the orange-lined armor that signified that he was a general of the Galra Empire.
“Oh no, he’s hot,” Lance couldn’t help but whisper to himself, eyes unable to leave the alluring man in his sights.
“Lance now is not the time. Take the shot,” Shiro ordered.
“The timer on the bomb is already going, Lance. You have to take the shot now ,” Pidge added, and Lance could faintly make out the sound of their feet tapping down the hallways. Lance eyed the Galra general up and down, taking in the way his suit hugged his skin and his taloned hands moved as he talked.
“But...he can’t be any older than the rest of us. Isn’t that wrong?” Lance hesitated. The Galra’s ears twitched like he heard Lance, and he turned toward the direction Lance was facing, glowing yellow eyes widening in shock.
“Oh cra--” the ship shook like an earthquake beneath him, almost sending Lance sliding off the slick metal and into the enemies below. Behind him, a grand plume of flames rose into space, swirling and licking into the void. “Crap.”
“Did you do it? Lance?” Shiro’s voice called through the comm system.
“I-well not really--”
“Get out of there. We’ll have to figure something else out,” Shiro’s voice carried that icy tone he only got when he was really, really upset, but was trying not to show it. Lance was in deep trouble.
The Galra was still staring at him, eyes flickering back and forth between Lance and the growing inferno. Lance decided it was best not to stick around to see which he chose to chase after.
“Hunk, I’m headed your way,” Lance quickly disassembled the rifle and replaced it over his shoulder, getting to his feet and darting to the hatch.
“Alright, I got your lion covered. Ready when you are,” Hunk reported back, the gentle whirs of his lion sounding in the background. Lance crawled as quickly as he could through the air vents, hands scraping and scratching along the metal. When he was finally back in the room, out of breath with dust in his hair, everything had thoroughly gone to crap. Galran forces were scrambling across the lower decks and sirens wailed down the halls.
“Lance, you have three minutes, tops, to get out before your area is swarmed,” Shiro warned, the sound of firefight reaching through his microphone.
“Right, right, continuing on,” Lance darted out of the room, skidding as he swiftly turned the corner. He could hear the thundering of troops behind him, forcing himself to pick up the pace.
“Hunk, I’m almost there. Making the last turn no--” he was abruptly cut off as his back slammed into the wall, sharp fingers scratching his cheek as his helmet was ripped off and tossed across the hallway. Lance scrabbled at the fingers that closed around his throat, wincing as sharp claws dug into the thin skin there, blood dripping into the collar of his suit.
The Galra, his target, glared at him through dark bangs, teeth bared threateningly. Lance could hear his friends shouting for him, a low buzz in the background.
“What are you doing here?” the Galra demanded, nails on the verge of seriously damaging the skin and muscle beneath them. Lance kicked his shin, which, in retrospect, wasn’t the best idea. The Galra grunted in pain, before growling and slamming Lance’s head back against the wall. Amber eyes bore into Lance’s own wide azure. “What,” another slam, “are you doing here? Where are your friends?”
“Like I’d tell you,” Lance choked out, trying to pull away from the fingers in a renewed effort. Lance’s vision was swimming, going in and out of focus as darkness started to creep up on him. He had to do something, now!
Lance lifted one leg, planting it against an armored stomach and pushing with as much force as he could muster. The Galra grunted, nails dragging across dark skin as he tried to keep his hold as Lance pushed him away with the sheer force of desperation. The blue paladin winced, darting for his helmet while his opponent was still stunned.
“Hunk, I need some help. Anyone, actually!” Lance frantically called, yelping as a dagger dug into the space he had been just seconds ago.
“Lance, I’m on my way!” Hunk responded, voice barely carrying from where the helmet
lay abandoned. Lance dodged another swipe at his chest, praying Hunk would hurry.
“Hey, you owe me, you know! I could’ve killed you ten minutes ago!” Lance tried, using his shield to block the next incoming attack. The Galra pushed his weight against the shield, straining Lance’s muscles as he forced himself to keep the blood thirsty Galra back.
“Like I should be grateful for that!” the Galra hissed, and, though it was definitely not the time, Lance couldn’t help the hot shiver the raced up his spine at the rough tone.
“Look, you’re really pretty and I’d hate to kill you after I let you go!” Lance lowered his shield and swiftly ducked under the blade, taking a shot at the Galra’s stomach once again. His fist impacted and the shorter man stumbled back, Lance taking advantage and sweeping his leg out to trip the Galra. The purple skinned man fell and Lance quickly clamored on top of him, pinning his arms above his head and using his longer legs to pin the Galra’s own.
Lance’s arms were screaming as he held the struggling man down.
“Now, this can go two different ways,” Lance huffed, lungs straining, “you can either stop struggling and you can leave with me conscious. Or you can keep this up,” at this, he slams the Galra’s wrists against the ground after the other pushed particularly hard against his restraints, “and we can wait for my friend to show up, knock you out, and you can leave with me un conscious.”
The purple skinned soldier spat something Lance couldn’t understand, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize that he, and probably everyone he had ever met, had just been insulted with as much venom as a living being could muster.
“I don’t know what you just said, but I have the feeling it was really rude, and I have to say: knocking you out is seeming more and more appealing,” Lance remarked, wincing as his neck gave a vicious pang, a drop of blood dripping onto Galran armor.
“Lance!” Lance’s head shot up at the familiar voice, eye’s landing on familiar yellow armor as his best friend sprinted down the hallways, bayard held in strong arms.
“Hunk! Oh, thank God,” Lance could have cried at the sight of his fellow paladin, “help me out here. If I get up now, he’ll rip my head off.” The look on the Galra’s face promised way worse than a lack of a head.
“Alright give me a sec,” Hunk set his bayard aside, kneeling down beside his friend and
reaching into the pouch resting against his hip. The yellow paladin pulled out a long syringe, filled with an eerie purple liquid. He gave it a couple pushes to make sure there were no air bubbles before reaching out to turn the Galra’s face away from his. After dodging sharp teeth that lunged for his fingers, Hunk was finally able to get the needle pressed into the soft skin of the struggling man’s neck, injecting the fluid into his veins as quickly as he could. Lance watched their target’s eyes flutter shut, the tenseness in his arms easing and his body relaxing.
Lance sighed, sitting up and shaking out his arms before getting completely off the unconscious Galra. “Thanks, man,” he smiled, reaching an arm out to help Hunk to his feet.
“No problem, man. But I can’t save you from Shiro,” Hunk grimaced, looking down at the supposed-to-be-dead-but-wasn’t target.
“Yeah, I know. Let’s just go before more people try to choke me to death,” Lance groaned, reaching for his discarded helmet before hauling the heavy man onto his back. Hunk hefted up his bayard and began down the hallway, hyper-aware and alert as he guided them back to where the lions waited.
“How much longer are guys going to need?” Shiro asked, the humming over machinery underlining his voice.
“We’re almost there. I can see the hatch,” Hunk responded, moving a bit faster with Lance in tow. Sure enough, the hatch leading back to the outside of the ship, and thus the platform that would let them return to their lions, was right there. Hunk climbed through the hatch first, tossing his gun through the opening and pulling himself up, before reaching down for the Galra, and then Lance.
“Okay we’re boarding the lions now,” Hunk announced, moving to his own lion while Lance hurried onto Blue.
“Hey pretty lady,” Lance greeted, smiling at the mechanical hum he received in return, “let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He set their prisoner on the floor, leaning him up against one of Blue’s walls.
“Is everyone ready?” Shiro asked as Lance swung himself into the pilot’s seat, hands finding the familiar levers and squeezing them.
“We’re good on my end,” Lance reported.
“Same here. Can we finally go home?” Hunk begged.
“Okay, let’s roll out,” Shiro commanded. Lance pulled back and Blue responded easily, pushing herself off of the cargo ship and gliding into the twinkling darkness of space. Yellow drifted up beside him and together they soared to where Green had begun heading, falling into formation with Lance on the right of Green with Yellow trailing behind, protecting the rear.
“So let me get this straight,” Pidge began and Lance felt dread settle in his chest, “our mission was to find a Galra general, assassinate him, and collect our money. And now, we have an unconscious Galra general and probably aren’t gonna get any money because Lance went and had to think with his di-- ”
“ Pidge, ” Shiro interrupted, his voice coming in through Green’s open communications system.
“Look,” Lance quickly intercepted, hands sweaty where he gripped Blue’s controls, “I’m sorry that the mission didn’t go as planned, but I’m not sorry I didn’t kill him.”
“Dude, just because he’s hot--”
“It’s not just ‘cause he’s hot!” Lance shouted, face slightly flushed, “it’s also cause he’s so young! Look at him. He can’t be any older than the rest of us. And there’s something that’s just different about him.” Shiro sighed and Lance felt his heart clench at the disappointment he could hear in the sound.
“We’ll talk about it more once we return to base, alright. In the meantime, keep an eye on him, Lance. We don’t know how long the drugs last on Galrans.” Lance responded with a soft yes sir before cutting his comms and sighing heavily. He put Blue on autopilot and turned his chair, eyes zeroing in on the slumped figure in the corner. Lance pulled his bayard off his back and leaned back in his chair. For the first time after a mission, he hoped they didn’t get back home anytime soon.