Chapter Text
Things Lance knows for absolute certain (a list made by Lance):
Iverson is the biggest dick this side of the milky way (and every side of the universe)
The air on this planet smells like McDonalds fries for some reason (hopefully it’s safe to breathe)
He is stranded on an alien planet millions of miles away from Earth with seemingly no way of returning (fuck)
The list inside Lance’s head only seems to grow longer as he wanders around the trading planet he dubbed “Flea Market-us”. He’s surrounded by tented stands, filled with seemingly every kind of curio you could think of and plenty that you wouldn’t think of at all. The sky is a pale yellow and the market is bustling with the ever-present crowds of various alien species.
“Stupid Iverson with his stupid selfishness, giving me up to those dumb purple cat people. Stupid everything.” Lance mutters angrily as he leans against a purple brick wall, separating the market from some unknown building.
The sweltering heat begins to seep into the space suit he wears, hanging heavily on his slim frame. With pinched brows and misted eyes, Lance slides down the purple brick wall and buries his face in his arms. “What am I gonna do?” he murmurs, blinking back the wetness in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you what you can do. You can buy something or move along. Don’t you see the signs?” The stranger of unknown species points to a sign in an obviously alien language. “No loitering.”
With a nervous shuffle, Lance carries on his way through the market, contemplating the mess that had gotten him marooned on the planet in the first place.
..
“Commander Iverson, there’s a ship approaching the space station. It… doesn’t look like one of ours.” Lance turned from his commander back to the window of the space station, eyes trained on the ominous purple ship making a quick approach.
“What are you talking about, cadet-“
“I’m not a cadet anymore, sir.”
“I don’t care what your title is, you’ll never be the pilot that Keith Kogane is. Our best pilot and yet you’re leagues behind that pilot who went missing from the rival school.” Iverson remained focused on the clipboard in his hands, oblivious to the alien cruiser.
“Sir, I really think you should look outside. We need to figure out what to do.” It was with gritted teeth that Lance placed a hand on Iverson’s shoulder and forcefully turned him towards the window.
..
They should have been prepared. They should have fought. They should have protected each other.
Instead, Iverson only protected himself. As Lance was restrained by two Galra soldiers, he watched with rage as Iverson managed to escape on the very same ship that Lance had flown to the Galaxy Garrison’s space station.
His view of the escaping ship out the window was impeded when he was smacked in the back of the head with one of the soldiers’ guns, enveloping him in darkness.
..
Lance woke up strapped to a metal table, surrounded by huge purple people with yellow eyes and large pointed ears, reminding him of the stray cat from his neighborhood in Cuba. This thought was quickly washed away by the realization that he could very well be about to die.
“Prisoner XT-307J89 is in healthy condition for his species according to our initial scans. He may be a viable candidate for limb replacement-“
To his left, Lance could see a vial of pink fluid with a tube running down to his left arm and hooked into a vein in his hand. The world blurred around him as he lost his fight for consciousness once again.
..
The next time he woke, it was on the same metal table but the pink liquid was gone, as were most of the aliens. Only one remained, his back turned away from Lance.
A groan escaped Lance unwillingly and the soldier turned to face him. “Good, you’re awake. We don’t have much time.” With a few steps, he made his way to the door and listened for the sound of any movement outside. “I’m with the Blade of Marmora and I’m going to get you out of here.” From his hip, the soldier pulled out a knife with a weird symbol on the blade. With the precision of someone with years of practice, the soldier sliced through Lance’s restraints.
Lance sat up and rubbed at the irritated skin around his wrists and took notice of the simple outfit he was in, a body suit as well as a torn shirt hanging loosely over the body suit. “Why are you helping me? Aren’t you the same kind of alien as the others?” Despite the distrust in his voice, no warning bells were going off in Lance’s mind.
“My name is Thace and the Blade of Marmora are dedicated to ending Emperor Zarkon’s reign. It was not long ago when another of your kind was helped by a member of the blade. He was sent back to Earth but it is too dangerous to send you there right now. I will be giving you the coordinates to a Blade of Marmora base and helping you get to an escape pod. Members of the Blade can help you.”
Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lance swallowed nervously and nodded, allowing himself to be hoisted up and supported by Thace. Shakily, he stepped forward with Thace’s help and the two made their way out the door and down a narrow hallway.
“The escape pods are this way.”
After several near discoveries by sentries and soldiers, Lance and Thace arrived at a hangar lined with small pods, each only big enough for a single Galra. Lance stared at one of the pods off to his right, his focus only shifted by a heavy weight being placed in his arms.
“I’ve managed to retrieve your flight suit, though they will notice it’s missing before long. I will be making it appear as if you escaped without my help. When you arrive to the base, tell them that Thace sent you and show them this symbol.” He pulled a piece of parchment from his suit that had the same symbol as his knife. “They will know you come in peace.”
With a shaky breath, Lance accepted the parchment and quickly donned his suit.
“Once in the pod, press the yellow button. Autopilot will engage and take you to the coordinates implanted in the pod.”
Sirens began to blare and footsteps pounded down hallways all leading to the hangar. “Go!”
Scrambling, Lance made his way into the pod and pressed the yellow button.
..
Turns out, it’s hard to dodge blasts from an alien warship in an escape pod set to autopilot.
Lance was very quickly struggling to gain control of the vessel as he lost an engine from a carefully aimed blast. The blaring red lights did nothing to instill confidence that Lance would somehow survive a crash on the nearby planet his pod was currently careening towards.
It must have been his lucky day.
..
Spinning.
Everything was spinning when he made his way from the totaled pod. He could barely stand up with the way the ground seemed to shift beneath him. There was a crack in his space suit but he wasn’t dead so the air was probably (hopefully) safe to breathe.
Where was he? Turning back to the pod’s screen, he paused at the coordinates lit in white.
“I don’t think this is the base…”