Archive of Our Own

Kolivan panted with exertion as he rested against an asteroid, looking out at the large, dark neutron star in front of him.  A preliminary reconnaissance mission to the unexplored quantum abyss should not have been a solo mission, ideally, but their numbers were stretched too thin as it was.  Blades were dwindling in every corner of the universe, being unmasked as spies and killed by the commanders they were spying upon. If things kept going, they would be completely eradicated before long.  Voltron was busy with the coalition and negotiating a new and tense relationship with Lotor, the Empire was in shambles, and Kolivan had no one among his ranks available and experienced enough to send to investigate the quantum abyss.  Krolia had sent him the basic coordinates of the galaxy in an encoded message, but she and Ranveig’s crew hadn’t been able to linger long enough to get much on it (part of him was glad, as they didn’t want a commander like Ranveig to hold the knowledge of this place).  Keith was too inexperienced, Krolia still neck-deep in infiltration, Vrek working his way up in Central Command, Ilun monitoring the communication networks… and then there were the fallen, his brothers who he still instinctively reached out for as if his heart had forgotten their demises; Ulaz, Thace, Antok--

Kolivan cut off his own thoughts as a wave of grief swept over him.  How long had it been since he had watched Antok die in front of him, just barely too far away to save him?  And yet the loss was still fresh, still too raw. He suspected it would never fade, not with the regret weighing heavily on his heart.  Regret at not only being unable to stop that druid from killing him, but also regret at the words Kolivan had never been able to bring himself to say to Antok until it was too late.  He rubbed at the back of his neck, and even through the fabric and armor of his uniform, he imagined he could feel the mark there, lines and dots dark against his skin.

A dull, distant thud echoed from up ahead, the sound drawing Kolivan’s thoughts back to the present.  His heart sank as he watched the burst of light spread from the depths of the dark star.  Not again… he couldn’t handle the visions that came from the abyss, where time was compressed and warped and distorted.  Kolivan had seen more death and pain than any one person should have to in their life, and the abyss had a nasty habit of showing him each memory in vivid, painfully detailed flashes, forcing him to relive it all.  But there was nothing he could do, he realized as the light crept closer. That was simply how the quantum abyss worked, he had found.

He braced himself against the asteroid as the light hit him,  and though the visions brought no force, they still took his breath away.  

“Lights out in one varga.”  A tall, imposing Galra barked at the line of scrappy individuals in front of him.  His frown was twisted with a scar that ran from his mouth to his ear, and a prosthetic eye -- not druid made but their own -- glowed in place of the left.  “Get some rest, new recruits. You’ll receive your first missions tomorrow.”

“Yes, Leader!”  The new recruits spoke up in unison.  Kolivan quickly found himself in the line-up.  He was shorter, younger (they all were). His braid was not yet long enough to wrap around his neck and instead hung down his back between his shoulder-blades, and there was no scar crossing his cheek.  He was dressed the same as the others in a simple Blade uniform, the tunic he would wear one day currently adorning the Galra giving the line one last critical look before turning away.

“Dismissed.”  The old Leader left, beckoning his second-in-command to follow, and the new recruits dispersed to their rooms.  

The scene shimmered and shifted, settling on a different part of the headquarters entirely.  It was the observation deck they had once had; Kolivan could hardly remember a time when that place hadn’t been sealed off as a heap of rubble following a blasting attack.  As he watched, the younger Kolivan slipped around the corner -- not as soundless as he could do now, but that made sense, given the experience -- and crept closer to the wide, curved windows where the stars were shining brightly.  

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”  

The young Galra froze suddenly, going rigid with shock as he noticed the other person hiding along the wall of the room.  

“I was just…” Kolivan took a step back, fully prepared to say he was simply looking for the restroom, or his dormitory, despite neither of those things being remotely close to here.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you don’t.”  The other Galra emerged from the shadows with a soft chuckle, and the real Kolivan’s heart ached; it was Antok.  Younger, less scarred, eyes bright and not yet damaged… and most importantly, alive .  

Antok stepped closer to the Kolivan of his own time, grinning knowingly.  “Snuck out to look at the stars?”

Young Kolivan’s eyes narrowed at him.  “You say that like you aren’t doing the same.”  

“I don’t deny that.”  Antok lowered himself to sit on the edge of the central dias, tail flicking behind him.  “Join me? Stargazing is more enjoyable with a friend.”

“We barely know each other.”  Kolivan pointed out, though he too sat down.  

“Then let’s change that.”  Antok stuck out his hand. “Antok.”  

“Kolivan.”  He nodded and grasped his forearm.  Watching the scene in front of him, the real Kolivan remembered that they hadn’t had a chance to exchange names at their first briefing.  Knowing each other’s names was not as important as knowing their overall mission and the rules of the group. In fact, sometimes it was better to not know the names of their comrades; they couldn’t reveal under torture what they didn’t know.  It was an act of trust for Antok to give his name, and one that Kolivan returned with utmost seriousness.

“Us lowly recruits have to stick together, huh?”  Antok leaned back on his hands and looked out at the stars.  “At least until we rise through the ranks and one of us becomes the new Leader.  My GAC is on you.”

Kolivan shot him a pointed glare.  “Don’t say things like that. They’ll think I’m staging a coup from the inside.”  

Antok chuckled.  “Well, even if you did, I’d stand by you.”  

Kolivan’s heart warmed, then a thread of suspicion set in.  “You don’t even know me.” He pointed out.

Antok shrugged.  “There’s something about you.  You seem like a good man. I have a feeling you’ll be a great leader one day, whether you gain the official title or not.”  

Kolivan didn’t know what to say to that.  “You too.” He cleared his throat after a moment.  “You strike me as very brave. And good instincts.”  Not to mention, very attractive. Kolivan was torn between wanting to work with him all the time, and knowing that if he did, he would be far too distracted from his mission.  

Antok laughed.  “You’re just saying that because I said I thought you’d become the Leader.”  Shaking his head fondly, he instead changed the subject and pointed out the wide, curved window.  “Look, you can clearly see the Fire-Bird constellation from here. That is a good omen.”

Kolivan’s ears perked up, but he kept his expression neutral.  He suddenly felt very aware of the back of his neck and the shape mapped out by black stars there.  “Do you have… a particular affinity for that constellation?” He asked casually.

Antok hummed and dropped his hand.  “I just like it. It’s… it’s important to my planet.”  There was something off about his voice, like he wasn’t quite being truthful, but before Kolivan could question him, he went on.  “Every thousand decaphoebes, the mythical fire-bird bursts into flames and dies -- no one knows if it is painful or peaceful, but given the fire, I am more inclined to think it is not without pain -- but its spirit is reborn from its own ashes.  Some say it is because the fire-bird is not a bird at all but a celestial being, a star that must become a supernova before the matter can form a nebula that will grow once more into a star. Either way, it is a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings, even those born from unimaginable pain.”  He let out a sigh, broad shoulders heavy with a weight that Kolivan himself could feel, too. “Seeing it here is a good sign. Perhaps joining the Blade of Marmora will be a rebirth of its own.”

Kolivan looked out at the stars.  He would not ask Antok what had driven him to join the Blade, just as he would not voice his own reasons for doing the same.  It was well-known that one did not join a dangerous covert spy organization simply for fun, and it would be cruel to open wounds that might still be fresh.  “Perhaps the universe is even in a state of rebirth.” He remarked wistfully. “This war… perhaps this is the fire. And we will help it rise from its own ashes and bring stability to the Galra Empire.”  

Antok turned a sharp-toothed grin on him.  “And that is why I would support you in a coup.”  He nudged Kolivan’s shoulder with his own.

“There will be no coup.”  Kolivan snorted. He didn’t want the weight and responsibility of being the Leader; it was a heavy mantle to bear.  “But… I wouldn’t say no to having each other’s backs.”

Whatever else Antok was going to say faded into white noise as the vision blurred and shifted again.  Kolivan staggered against the asteroid he was clutching, head reeling as he came back to himself. The light had moved past him, off to berate any other unfortunate life forms out here with memories of their own.  

He let out a shaky breath and scrubbed his hand over his face, forgetting about the mask protecting him.  At least he hadn’t seen anyone die, this time. Yet the happy memory almost hurt more; he would never have that again.  He would never see Antok smile like that again (although, truthfully, it had been a very long time since he saw Antok look anywhere near that level of carefree).  There were so many things he should have said to him, even in that memory alone. He should have told him why the Fire-Bird constellation was important to him as well.  He should have told him it was because the same stars they were looking at were mirrored on the skin at the base of his neck, a sign that his soulmate was somewhere out there.  He should have asked Antok if his affinity for the constellation had the same roots. He shouldn’t have waited until he was rolling his friend’s lifeless corpse over to find out, to see it on his upper arm laced with scars and burns from the druid’s magic.  

Kolivan dragged his hand away from the back of his neck, claws curling into a fist.  Dwelling on it would do him no good. Antok was dead, and Kolivan would be too, if he didn’t figure out a way out of this quantum abyss.  He had lost his chance with his soulmate, and he would just have to live with that heavy weight on his heart. A heart already so heavy, he was surprised it hadn’t fallen straight out of his chest yet.  

A distant boom echoed from the center of the dark star, different than the ones that signalled the memory flashes were coming.  Kolivan’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him; the star was collapsing in on itself. He pushed off from the asteroid and fired his jetpack, but the explosion was too fast and caught him before he could even hope to get far enough away to survive.  

Burning up in fire, he thought dryly, just moments before the intense heat and pain hit him.  How fitting, for one whose soulmark bore a Fire-Bird.

~~~~~~~

Bright light was both the last and first thing he saw.

“...livan?  Leader, can you hear me?”  A voice worked its way through the haze, and Kolivan peeled his eyes open to find a blurry face he thought he would never see again, peering down at him in concern.  

“Ulaz?”  Kolivan sat up so quickly his head spun and the whole room seemed to slide sideways at an angle.  Wait… room? Where was the asteroid? The abyss?

“Are you alright?”  Ulaz’s pale brows furrowed over his golden eyes.  “You suddenly collapsed.”

“I--” Kolivan tore his eyes away from the Galra -- a ghost, surely -- in front of him to take in the room around them.  He was in the Blade of Marmora’s laboratory, which explained the bright lights overhead. Chemicals, fuses, bits of metal and tech crowded the shelves, salvaged and stored and ready to be worked into new weapons for their resource-strapped group.  It was messier than he remembered it; Keith had gotten frustrated waiting around for his medical exam clearance to go through, a requirement for all new Blades, and had taken his impatience out on what he had called their “disorganized mess” of a lab.  Kolivan wondered how it had gotten to this state again, after all his hard work.

More surprising than the state of the shelves, though, was the Galra standing beside them holding a vat of nano-thermite titanium-boron in his gloved hands.  “ Thace ?”  Kolivan’s eyes widened.  He had to be dreaming. Or perhaps he was dead as well.  

“Yes?”  Thace looked confused.  “Are you alright, Leader?”

“I believe he may have hit his head.”  Ulaz mused. “It is a shame we don’t have a doctor here…”

“You mean besides you?”  Kolivan turned to him.

Ulaz blinked.  “Why would you think I am a doctor?”  He asked, puzzled.

Kolivan opened his mouth to reply that he knew he wasn’t a proper doctor, but it had been Ulaz who had spent several days studying late into the night about medical treatment in the days prior to his being assigned to infiltrate the medics working under the druids, where he had met Shiro.  Late-night cram sessions were the remarkably un-glamorous side of high-level infiltration missions; they couldn’t hope to be successful blending into such specialized positions if they lacked familiarity with the technical jargon. Luckily, though, Ulaz seemed to have a natural affinity for the subject, and none of the druids or their medics suspected a thing until he turned on them.  In the time between freeing Shiro and meeting his own end, Ulaz had put his limited knowledge to good use and saved a number of Blade’s lives following difficult battles. He was as good of a doctor as they had, and had prided himself on being able to help even a few of his brothers survive.

Why did he not remember that?  

Kolivan shut his mouth and swallowed.  “...Never mind. Perhaps I did hit my head.”  He cleared his throat and got to his feet. “Now, where were we?”  He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on, but he wouldn’t be worth his salt as a spy if he let people know that.  

Ulaz studied him a moment longer before pulling up a holo-screen.  “We were discussing the rebellion on planet Uotuoh…”

Kolivan nodded, remembering it well.  “Yes, I think we can all agree we learned a valuable lesson from that.”  

Ulaz paused and looked up at him.  “The rebellion is only in its earliest stages.  It has barely begun. I was about to suggest we send support, perhaps place an operative there.  Araket would be suitable for--”

“No.”  Kolivan cut him off quickly.  That operative had died when the rebels killed him on sight, fearing his Galra features more than they wished for help.  He wouldn’t lose another to the same fight. “They have the resources to handle themselves. It will be slow at first, so much so that it will look like nothing, then explode into a full-fledged rebellion.  We don’t need send aid.”

Ulaz stared at him.  “Do you… have proof of this claim?”  He asked, confused.

Other than the sharp memory of being sent Araket’s head in a Uotuohian box with his own blade stuck through his temple?  No, he did not. Kolivan pushed the thought away and cleared his throat. “Just a hunch. They have a long history of being resourceful, as well as being slow to anger but quick to act once that anger sets in.”  

Ulaz frowned pensively and Thace looked at him from the counter where he was placing capsules of the nano-thermite titanium-boron into bombs.  Bomb designs four models prior to what they currently used. “Are you sure you’re alright, Leader? You seem a little out of sorts.” Thace asked.  

“I am perfectly fine.”  Kolivan said brusquely. Or, he would be, as soon as he figured out what was going on here… Why a rebellion with a disastrous conclusion had not yet taken place, or why two of his fallen brothers were standing before him, or why the faint tug of weight at the base of his skull was not as heavy as he was used to… Choosing to focus on that last one, as it was the least mind-boggling of the bunch, he subtly reached up and wrapped his braid around his throat.  Or, he tried to. It wasn’t quite long enough to go all the way around, and ended up falling to hang over the front of his shoulder instead, a solid five or six inches shorter than usual. Kolivan let his fingers run over the end of the braid, but the hairs were natural, not cut blunt across. It hadn’t been sliced shorter, it was just… shorter, on its own. The length it had been several decaphoebes ago, when--

“Kolivan, do you recall the date?”  Ulaz asked him. He paused and looked down, muttering to himself, “isn’t that a question they ask people with concussions?”   

“Of course I know the date.”  Kolivan snapped. He did not. But he could figure it out.  The first stirrings of the Uotuoh Rebellion… the Blade’s early attempts using nano-thermite titanium-boron… his hair… “It is the era of Ehiesi, the… thirtieth decaphoebe.”

Ulaz narrowed his eyes.  “What movement?” He prodded.

Cursed stars above and below. “The… fourth movement.”  A wild guess. He could only pray it was right.

Ulaz and Thace shared a look.  “It is indeed the thirtieth decaphoebe of Ehiesi,” Thace said slowly.  “But it is the thirteenth movement.”

“You must have hit your head.”  Ulaz nodded. “You should lie down and rest.”  

“I don’t need to rest.”  Kolivan replied snappishly.  What he needed to do was figure out how he had seemingly gone back in time.  Had the quantum abyss done something when it exploded? But how ?

“If you are unwell, you should not push yourself.”  A smooth, low voice as deep as the oceans rumbled behind him and stopped Kolivan’s heart cold.  

He whipped around so fast he felt his neck crack, but the crick of pain mattered little to him when his breath rushed out of his chest like his lungs had been punctured.  “ Antok …”  His voice had fled in his shock, leaving the word sounding breathy and ghost-like.  “You’re alive…”

Antok blinked at him, one eye still unmarred.  “Last I checked, yes.” Stars above, he even still had that dry sense of humor.  He tilted his head and studied Kolivan, brow furrowing in confusion as the Blade Leader continued to stare at him with his mouth open like an anakas’uoyg fish.  Antok cocked his head slightly.  “Did something happen? You look as though you’ve seen a spectre.”  

Or three… Kolivan thought to himself.  He shook his head and tore his eyes away from Antok, though it left an ache in his chest.  “No. I… Perhaps I did hit my head. I… I should lie down. Just for a little while.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed past Antok -- ignoring the way brushing his shoulder made it feel like he had been burned -- and hurried down the hall, leaving the other three Blades behind.      

What was going on?  Was this simply another vision of the past, brought on by the strange light in the quantum abyss?  But no… in all the other visions, Kolivan had been like a ghost. No one had interacted with him at all, only with the younger version of himself.  Not like this. And all this was too crisp and clear, not bathed in the slight haze that the other visions had been. Kolivan wasn’t just viewing his past, he was somehow in the past.  Or, a part of him was, at least.  This body was different; younger, with fewer scars and wounds.  The aches and pains in his bones lessened, the battles they had come from not yet fought.  His braid not yet long as it would be one day. The last thing he remembered as himself was that explosion… had his body perished in the blast, and his spirit sent back in time?  

Kolivan closed the door to his room behind him, but he did not rest.  He went straight over to the small desk and pulled up a holo-screen, sifting through the records and log books with a critical eye.  Just as he suspected… there was nothing here past date E-30-13. No record of him setting out to investigate the quantum abyss. No record of the quantum abyss at all, he realized.  Not even anything about Voltron .  He checked Krolia’s log and found her encoded location coordinates; her crew hadn’t even discovered the quantum abyss yet.  That part of their galactic maps was still blank, that corner of the universe largely unexplored. He had no way of confirming if his body had been destroyed, or why and how his soul had been sent back here, or if he would be sent back to the future at some point.  

That thought made Kolivan pause.  He might get sent back, or he might not.  Ulaz, Thace, Antok … there was a chance they might all be ripped away from him again.

Kolivan took a deep breath to steady himself.  He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he had before.  He couldn’t .  He had to do what he could to change their courses before he had to leave, to prevent them from dying as they had in his timeline.  The best he could do was to ensure their survival, as many of them as he could. But it had to be done in secrecy; there was too much at stake, if they found out he was from the future.  And Antok… he ached to tell him the truth, now that he had him alive. But he couldn’t, not when there was a chance he would have to leave again. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He curled his fingers into a fist, claws pricking his own palm and grounding him.  He would have to keep his distance from Antok, for his own safety. Kolivan couldn’t tell Antok the truth about them (including that he had seen Antok die ), only to be forced to leave him and return to his own time, where there was no Antok.  In the same vein, he could not, in good conscience, drop something so emotionally heavy on Antok only to disappear and leave him to deal with the pain on his own.  He simply refused to force such lonely suffering on his soulmate.

So that settled it, he thought as he turned off the holo-screen.  He would play along and not give anyone any indication that something was amiss with their Kolivan, secretly implement changes to save the lives of as many Blades he could, and would keep his distance from Antok while carefully ensuring his soulmate’s survival.  This was just another undercover mission, he told himself.

First, he needed to pin down the current locations of all of his agents at this point in time, to see what dangers he knew they would face from his own timeline.  For that, he would need access to the larger database in the communications room.

No sooner had he left his own room and was heading down the hall, though, did he hear an achingly familiar voice call out to him.

“That doesn’t look like resting.”  Antok rumbled, his voice colored just slightly with a strange mixture of amusement and reprimand.  Almost like he expected to find Kolivan up and about, but he still wasn’t pleased with it.

Kolivan paused in the middle of the corridor to look at him.  Stars above, it was just so good to see him standing there, alive and well.  Kolivan would hold this memory dear to his heart once they were forced to part.  He looked away, hoping to clear his head. “I have work to do.”

“You always have work to do.”  Antok pointed out. “You’ll run yourself to death like this, old friend.”  

“I guarantee that my working habits will not be the cause of my death.”  Kolivan muttered dryly, thinking of the explosion. Antok gave him a quizzical look, but Kolivan really did not want to explain the complications he had met in the quantum abyss.  He cleared his throat. “Haven’t you a mission to prepare for as well?” He asked carefully, trying to gauge the situation. What mission was it? Should he prevent him from going?  Give him something he knew would save him?

Instead, Antok gave him a bemused and slightly affronted look.  “I only got back from the Thaldycon system a varga and a half ago, Leader.  Please, allow me a moment of reprieve.”

“Of course, of course.”  Kolivan nodded quickly. “Yes, you should go rest.  Take a few quintants. I’ll find a suitable mission for you next.”

“You already did.”  Antok pointed out. “The Gamma-7 Operation.  I leave tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not.”  Kolivan snapped, unable to stop himself.  Antok had barely escaped with his life on that mission.  A rogue shot had rendered him completely blind and it was only through sheer luck that he managed to escape.  By the time they had picked up his ship’s distress call, he had nearly bled out. He was in a coma for several quintants, and even with the visual prosthetics the Blades designed for him in his mask, his sight was never the same.  Kolivan had a terrible suspicion that his impaired vision had played a hand in Antok’s ultimate death, having been caught unawares by the druid in his blind spot. But this Antok wouldn’t know that.

Antok paused, looking taken aback.  “...Why not?”

“It’s--” Kolivan cast about for an excuse.  He couldn’t suggest sending someone else -- they would surely meet the same fate -- but he couldn’t let Antok go.  Not by himself, at least. “That is, you should not go alone. That mission ought to have two operatives, anyway. I’ll go with you.”  Then, at least, he could protect him.

Antok studied him for several long moments, his expression unreadable.  “Very well.” His lips curved up in a small smile. “It has been a long time since we have worked together, my old friend.  I look forward to it.”

“This is not a friendly vacation.”  Kolivan bristled. He knew what would happen on this mission, and all the sacrifice and suffering it would bring.  “This is a dangerous mission.”

“Of course.”  Antok’s smile slipped and his brow furrowed in confusion, looking puzzled by Kolivan’s sudden and -- from his perspective -- uncalled-for sharpness in tone.  “I only meant that it will be something of a nice change of pace,” Antok said, words carefully clipped. “To work with an individual to whom I am so close.”  

No.  If anything, that would only make it more painful if they failed.  He couldn’t let Antok think that way, couldn’t let him grow compliant.  Antok’s life depended on it. Kolivan refused to see him die again.

Kolivan turned away from him brusquely.  “This mission is more important than the individual.  Take care to remember that, Operative 02940.” The coldness stung his heart like the first frost of winter, but it was as much a reminder for himself as it was for Antok.  They couldn’t afford to let their personal relations get in the way of their mission. The might of the Galra empire would not be brought down with friendship alone. Their goal was larger than any of them, and even the best spies needed to be reminded of that sometimes.  Even Kolivan himself.

Still, it hurt Kolivan to walk away and leave Antok in the corridor.  The soulmark at the base of his neck prickled uncomfortably under Antok’s gaze, and Kolivan subtly rubbed his hand over the back of his neck to ensure that the collar of his suit was still concealing the stars against his skin.  

~~~~~~~

Kolivan was a fool.  A complete, utter, absolute fool.

Only a fool would think that just because was from the future, he would know exactly how everything would play out.  His very presence there threw the variables out of whatever order he knew them to be in. Yes, some details were eerily similar to the mission report he had read -- sneaking aboard the ship in the dead of the sleep cycle, planting bugs in the communication lines, a near miss when they were retrieving a memory chip from the ship’s database… -- but this thread of reality was different, by its own virtue.  Kolivan knew the sentries would sneak up on them from the north corridor, so he had concentrated on that one, but by some twist of fate, he had failed to notice the ones approaching from the south, and they ended up being discovered anyway. In the ensuing battle, Kolivan had spotted one of the sentries take aim at Antok, and with a burst of ice flooding his veins and an enraged roar, he lunged and tackled his friend out of the shot’s path.  The beam ended up clipping Antok’s right arm, anyway, leaving a nasty, deep gash that made gripping his blade difficult. Kolivan had managed to fight them off, and Antok even landed a few good kicks while he grimaced and clutched a hand to his arm to stem the bleeding, but they still escaped by the skin of their teeth.

As Kolivan steered their pod back to the Blade’s base, his heart was pounding and flashes of Antok being struck down by the druids kept appearing in his mind, disconcertingly close to what they had just been through.  

“You broke protocol.”  Antok grunted from the co-pilot seat.  He didn’t bother touching the other set of controls, too busy trying to keep himself from bleeding out before they got back to the base.  

Kolivan refused to acknowledge his words, hoping Antok would just drop it.  He didn’t.

“They had me surrounded.  I was a lost cause.” Antok went on.  

“You had the intel.”  Kolivan shot back. It was a paper-thin excuse, but he wielded it like steel in hopes of pretending it was enough.  It was all he had. “I was protecting the mission.”

Antok said nothing.  Both were still wearing their masks, so their expressions were unreadable.  But there was no mistaking the cold aura surrounding him. “Right. Of course.”  His words were flat. Clipped. Kolivan couldn’t tell if it was because he was angry or because he was in pain.  Perhaps both.

Under the privacy of his own mask, Kolivan let his eyes fall closed for a moment, like a shutter over windows before a storm.  His words and their implication were hurting Antok, he could tell. Furthermore, they were hurting Kolivan to say; Antok had been the most important person in his life, his other half, a puzzle piece made to fit with his own.  Telling him his only worth to Kolivan was the intel he had held hurt as if he was stabbing his own gut. And he was sure it hurt Antok to hear.  But it was imperative that Antok not find out the truth. It would only hurt both of them that much more, when Kolivan inevitably had to leave. He wouldn’t do that to him.

They were still nowhere near the base, but Kolivan noticed Antok seemed to be fading.  They wouldn’t have the luxury of getting to the infirmary with the others; Kolivan would have to take care of this himself, otherwise Antok would die.  And that was simply unacceptable.

He keyed in the coordinates and set the steering to autopilot, then left his seat and hurried to find the emergency first aid kit stashed in the back of the small pod.  He brought it back and put a hand on Antok’s shoulder. “Let me see.”

“It’s not that bad…” Antok grunted, chagrinned.  Despite his words, he winced when Kolivan touched his arm.  The blast may have only grazed him, but it was still quite deep.  The wound was a mess of blood, charred flesh, and the remains of his suit, reduced to soot.  

“It is deep.”  Kolivan told him.  “We have to stop the bleeding.”  He reached for the first aid kit and opened it up, eyeing the contents critically.  This might be beyond his capabilities.

“I thought my death would be more glorious than that…” Antok muttered.  

Kolivan slammed a roll of gauze down beside him with more force than was perhaps necessary. “No death is glorious.”  He bristled. The memory of Antok’s guttural cry as the druid’s magic struck him in the back flashed through his mind’s eye.  Having one’s life ripped away from them was never -- could never be -- glorious.  

“But it is a fact of life.”  Antok said. To Kolivan’s horror, he sounded tired.  Like he was already slipping away. “Accept that I will die, old friend.  Scatter my ashes and carry on without me.”

“I will not.”  Kolivan growled.  He had ; he knew what life was like without Antok by his side.  He knew the pain, the loneliness, the overwhelming regret over words not said… He would rather die himself than make the same mistake and go through that again.  “I lost you once. I will not lose you again.”

The admission slipped out before he could stop it, blowing his cover.  He prayed Antok was too far gone to have heard it (but not so far gone that Kolivan couldn’t bring him back), but alas, Antok’s head lifted just slightly and he turned the eyes of his mask towards Kolivan as if to look at him quizzically.  Luckily, Kolivan beginning to clean the wound was enough to distract him, the burly warrior hissing and flinching at the sting of the antiseptic like a disgruntled klanmuirl getting its feet wet.

Kolivan worked quickly and methodically to clean the wound, washing away the coagulating blood and charred remains of his suit that had stuck to his skin and darkened it.  Suddenly, Kolivan paused. After wiping the skin, there were some dark spots that refused to lift away, as if they had long ago sunk into his skin. The arrangement of them mirrored the mark on the back of Kolivan’s neck, exactly.  

The Fire-Bird constellation.

Kolivan looked up.  He desperately wished he could see Antok’s face under his mask.

“I take it you recognize that mark?”  Antok asked.

Kolivan stared at him.  “You knew?” And he hadn’t said anything?  “How… how long?”

Antok hummed.  “After the Delta-5-R mission.  When your broken arm was bound to your chest to heal, and you grew cranky at not being able to braid your hair yourself.  I saw it when I helped you.”

Kolivan was stunned.  That mission had been nearly a dozen decaphoebes ago.  

Thankfully, his senses returned enough to notice that Antok’s wound had begun to bleed sluggishly again.  He laid a square of gauze over it and pressed the limb between his palms tightly to stem the bleeding. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  He asked quietly.

Antok scoffed.  “Psh! Tell you?  Impossible. The mission is more important than the individual , right?”

Underneath his own mask, Kolivan’s eyes fell closed and his expression shut down as shame and regret washed through him.  He lifted Antok’s arm -- not just to elevate the wound -- and pressed his forehead to the place where his soulmark lay under the gauze.  “I was a fool to say that. I didn’t know what to do; we were losing our brothers so frequently…”

“I know.”  Antok said quietly.  “The mantra helped to dull the pain.”

“But in doing so, I caused you pain.”  Kolivan lifted his gaze to Antok’s mask, once again wishing he could see his face.  “I am so sorry, Antok. I should not have waited to tell you, until it was too late.”

Antok paused and his head tilted a little.  “I’m not quite dead yet.” His tone, despite the severity of the situation, was warmed with just a touch of bemusement.  

“But you were.”  Kolivan couldn’t hide it any longer, and the words bubbled up out of his chest.  “I watched you die. I was there. I should have-- the druid, if only I had been able to--” he broke off, emotion choking the words in his throat.  

Antok touched his knee, thumb resting right over a soot-blackened streak on his suit where Kolivan had narrowly avoided being shot himself.  He realized with sudden, blinding, brilliant clarity that either or both of them could very well die at any moment, and that he did not want to meet that moment without having been truthful to Antok, his dearest friend and soulmate.  

He told him everything.  Where he had come from -- when he had come from -- and the fight against the druids, seeing Antok die, finding his soulmark, being unable to even bring his body back for his memorial, the regret that haunted him for phoebes, the strangeness of the quantum abyss, the explosion… he told him everything.  

Antok was quiet for a long moment when he finished speaking.  Kolivan didn’t blame him; it was a lot to take in. It had been a lot to go through, as well.  Eventually, Antok nodded to himself. “I now understand why this constellation in particular chose us to mark our souls.”  His mask was blank as always, but Kolivan could hear the smile in his voice. “Fate was always going to give us a second chance.”

“But how long will it last?”  Kolivan asked. “What if my timeline rips me away from you once more?”  

Antok said nothing for a moment.  He drew Kolivan close in an embrace, though it was a bit awkward with his injured arm still between them.  “We will take things as they come. It is what we have always done.”

Kolivan rested his forehead against Antok’s.  That, he had realized, was the true adage of the Blade of Marmora; not the mission is more important than the individual .  They would always have losses, and would always have to fight for their gains.  But they would take things as they came, and never stop fighting. For the universe, to defeat Zarkon, and to stay alive and together for as long as they could.  

~~~~~~~     

Once they made it back to the base and Kolivan managed to properly bandage Antok’s wound, he placed him on strict orders to rest, and to stay away from the training hall .  Antok had half-heartedly grumbled that of course he wouldn’t try to train, how ridiculous… But Kolivan just shot him a knowing look, and Antok muttered something about the inconvenience of soulmates being able to read each other like an open book, before he left to go lie down.  But not before leaning in and pressing his forehead to Kolivan’s, a Galra kiss.

Kolivan then spent a bit of time typing up their post-mission report.  When he was finished, he leaned back in his chair as the holo-screen vanished, his bones feeling utterly fatigued.  Perhaps he should go and rest as well… perhaps he could even rest with Antok… hmm…

Before Kolivan could sneak off to indulge himself, another screen popped up and Ulaz’s face appeared, looking haggard.  “Leader, I have entertained our guest as long as I could, but we really need you to come to the lab now.”

“Guest?”  Kolivan blinked, then pulled up his schedule.  Damn it all, that was why he hadn’t originally gone with Antok on that mission in his timeline…

A pitched wail echoed from somewhere behind Ulaz, making the Galran’s ears twitch as he grimaced.   “Is this the reality where my allies have forsaken me?!  Or worse, the reality where I do not actually exist?!”

“Kolivan, please, I beg you.”  Ulaz leaned closer to the screen and lowered his voice.  “Slav will wait no longer, and we need your input before we begin work on the gravity generator--”

“Wait!  Are we sure gravity exists in this reality?  There is a 35 percent chance it doesn’t! And there is only a 17 percent chance we can artificially generate something that doesn’t exist!”

Ulaz released a terse sigh and turned to look off-screen.  “Look down and you will see your feet are on the ground --” With that, the holo-screen cut out and disappeared.

Kolivan grabbed his blade and slid it into his belt as he left his room, hurrying to the laboratory.  His mind felt so scrambled, but more pieces were beginning to fall into place. Of course, of course, Antok had gone to check to see if the Thaldycon system was a good place for the new outpost, then they would build the gravity generator to conceal that outpost.  And then, he would have to make sure that Ulaz didn’t die on that outpost, but now he knew he would have several decaphoebes to put a plan into place for that…

For now, all he had to deal with was appease the large, nervous, reclusive scientist paying a visit to their base.  But he now knew that such a task was easier said than done, he thought ruefully as he pressed his palm to the sensor beside the door.  

“--not as simple as quantum physics, how many times must I tell you?”  Slav was pacing around the lab, while Ulaz looked like he would rather be tasked with retrieving scaultrite from a weblum, quite frankly.  The frantic scientist spun around and shook several fingers at him. “We could be dealing with quantum realities , here, and that is far more complicated!”  He turned around at the sound of the door opening.  “Ah, and you must be Kolivan! I recognize you from our correspondence messages.  Although… hmmm…” Slav narrowed his eyes and rested one hand on his chin, crossing the other sets.  

“A pleasure to meet you.”  Kolivan found himself uneasy under Slav’s critical gaze.  He seemed to know something Kolivan didn’t, and Kolivan didn’t like that in the least.  “I apologize for my tardiness to our meeting.”

Slav waved him off.  “Oh don’t worry, I knew there was an 8 percent chance of you being late.”  

“I thought you were not scheduled for any missions today.”  Ulaz still looked disgruntled at having to entertain their guest in Kolivan’s absence.  

“One came up.”  Kolivan explained.  “Perhaps in a bit, you could go check on Antok?  He was injured on our mission and is recovering.”  

Slav, who had been examining the tools they had on hand, suddenly whipped around and pointed at him.  “Oh, so this is that reality?  In that reality, there was a 92 percent chance of you being late!  So I completely understand…”

Well, that made one of them.  Kolivan stared at him, and he got the uncomfortable sense that Slav knew much more than he was letting on.  Or worse, that he would let on, and blow Kolivan’s cover.  He cleared his throat. “We should begin work on the gravity generator.  Why don’t you show us the blueprints you have come up with so far?”

“Of course, of course…” Slav sifted through at least half a dozen rolls of blue paper, muttering something about certain ones being rendered moot now.  

The meeting went about as smoothly as it could, considering the circumstances.  Kolivan and Ulaz provided information about the location of the potential base and what sorts of defense features they would need to implement.  Slav ran calculations and altered his blueprints and told them what would and would not be possible (they did try to keep him limited to one reality, but it was rather difficult).  At long last, Kolivan relieved Ulaz of his duties and sent him to check on Antok, knowing that the man deserved a break for the evening.  He offered Slav a tour of the base, with nothing else to do, but Slav pointed out that there was already a twenty-to-sixty percent chance that he might get captured by the Empire, so he had best not.  Kolivan nodded, unsure whether he should reveal that he knew Slav would one day end up in the Beta Traz prison or if he should let time run its course. In the end, they simply made their way down to the docking bay where Slav’s ship was and waited for the solar flares to clear.  

All this talk of alternate realities was beginning to turn the gears in Kolivan’s mind.  Before, he had thought Slav’s ramblings to be mad at worst or simply theoretical at best.  But since the incident in the quantum abyss, well… perhaps there really was something to it.  

Kolivan cleared his throat.  “In your experience, have you ever known someone to, potentially, go back in time?”

“Yes, of course.”  Slav nodded.

“Really?”  Kolivan was surprised.  “What happened?”

Slav just looked up at him, and Kolivan swore he was smirking at him, though it was hard to tell with his beak-like mouth.  “I think you know better than I…” his voice was sing-songy.

Kolivan frowned.  “Besides me.”

Slav shrugged, unperturbed.  “Well, I can’t say for certain that I’ve heard of that happening to anyone else -- not in this particular reality, at least -- but I would assume it works along similar lines as in other realities.”  

“Which is?”

“One cannot go forward in their timeline, only back.”  Slav held up a finger. “And once such a jump happens, it changes the very fabric of that reality.  Some things might be similar, but there will be differences.”

“Is it possible to be sent back -- or, I suppose, forward -- to one’s original time?”  Kolivan asked.

“I already said you cannot go forward.”  Slav shook his head, sighing. “At any rate, such a jump would only come about due to the destruction of one’s body in an environment where time has loopholes to exploit; people’s souls don’t get sent around willy-nilly, you know.  So, there is a 99.9 percent chance you would have nothing to return to.”

Kolivan nodded solemnly, remembering the explosion.  He doubted his body had survived.

“What about the other Kolivan?”  He asked. It had been weighing on his mind, since he got here.  Were there two of them, now, in this timeline?

Slav tilted his head.  “The one who runs the Guns of Gamora?”

Kolivan blinked.  “...The what.”

Slav waved the question away.  “Never mind, wrong reality. There is a 53 percent chance you won’t even encounter that.”  He cleared his throat. “Anyway, in this reality, there is no ‘other Kolivan’. There is only you.  Your soul, once it was sent back, merged with his -- or rather, a different version of yours -- and fused to create the version here.”  He gestured to the Galra beside him. “There was a 67 percent chance that your soul would not catch, but you beat the odds. And now you have a second chance.  Third? Second?” He paused and squinted up at the Galra, rubbing his chin pensively. “Are you planning on going back to the quantum abyss?”

“No.”  Kolivan said flatly.  He was quite done with time travel, thank you very much.  

“Good, that is the wisest choice.”  Slav nodded to himself. “There is only a 5 percent chance of you surviving a second encounter like that.”  He patted Kolivan on the arm. “Well! Looks like the flares have cleared by 82 percent! I’ll be going now.  I will get that gravity generator to you as soon as I can.”

After seeing off Slav’s ship and closing up the docking bay once more, Kolivan let out a heavy sign and leaned back against the wall.  He felt like a whirlwind had just swept through their vicinity; Slav tended to have that effect. But he had learned something remarkable from the reclusive scientist, he realized as he looked out at the magnificent view outside the bay’s windows.  

“Is the small wiggly noodle gone?”  A familiar voice rumbled behind him.  

Kolivan snorted and turned to find Antok in the doorway.  “He may be excitable, but he’s still a scientific genius.”  He pointed out.

“He unnerves me.  Like a yapping pet yupper-pup, always getting underfoot.”  Antok chuckled.

“How is your arm?”  Kolivan asked, looking at it.  The bandages had been done up more neatly, he noticed.  

“Much better.”  Antok lifted it and opened and closed his hand.  “Ulaz is surprisingly handy with a first aid kit.”  He noted Kolivan’s noncommittal hum, and cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Or, I suppose you already knew that.”

Kolivan tore his eyes away to look out the windows at the star-studded, inky-violet sky, a solar flare below them sending a beam of light straight up through the darkness.  “It seems I will not be able to go back to my original time after all. I will be able to stay here.” With you .  He was glad, but that was still a hefty mental adjustment to make.  Not to mention the uncertainty about what would and would not be different here hanging over his head like an ax.

“I imagine you will miss the friends you made in your time.”  Antok said carefully.

“I will make them again.”  Kolivan replied. He reached down and took his soulmate’s hands, mindful of his still-injured right arm.  “More importantly, I will have the chance to save those who I could not save before.” To save you .

Antok stepped closer and leaned his forehead against Kolivan’s.  “Whether we will perish in battle or grow old enough to see the end of this war, we will do so together.”  He rumbled.

Kolivan closed his eyes.  “Together.” He agreed.