Chapter 1

It wasn't supposed to happen like this okay. It was just supposed to be a quick mission in and out and then get back to the Blade of Marmora for a debriefing. How did it get like this?

Keith's mind was racing as he peered around his small cell. Nothing too fancy, though the ship itself was pretty damn high tech. It didn't matter though. What mattered was getting out of this damn prison.

Stupid Galra.

It was a simple mission too! Ugg… He still couldn't believe he fucked up on such a simple thing- Get in, don't raise suspicion and don't get caught, just get in and grab the weapon that was giving off abnormal amounts of quintessence.

But then that guy showed up, frantically running from at least five sentries shooting at him nonstop. The guy had a clear shield and blue armor on, but he didn't seem to have any weapons to fire back. Not only that but he was also shouting very loudly, drawing the attention of every other sentry in the vicinity.

Needless to say it caused a bit of chaos.

So Keith decided to follow the rapidly growing group.

"Pidge! PIDGE WHERE THE HELL DO I GO! Pidge!" The man screamed at someone that no one else could see. "I don't need your SASS right now! Just give me directions! AH!" A well-aimed shot hit the shield violently and he was pushed forwards at a speed faster than the sprint that he was moving. He stumbled to the floor, hitting it with an "Oomph." And the sentries were on him in a moment.

What compelled him to do it, he didn't know, but what happened cannot be changed, no matter how much he regrets it.

Keith charged in. The sentries were hauling the man to his feet when they finally saw him. At first they must have thought he was just a higher officer of the Galran army, he did blend in quite well with that title after all, but the sentries were soon convinced otherwise. Keith brought his blade in a wide slash across the first two sentries. The blade of Marmora throbbed a dim purple in satisfaction, a portrayal of his actual feelings getting lost in the fight.

The sentries were on him in seconds but the six of them left weren't hardly enough to be able to stop him. They were turned into shattered pieces of armor in an instant.

He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the man that had caused the sirens that were blaring overhead and turned this simple mission into a much more complicated matter.

But the man wasn't even there. The sound of retreating footsteps could be heard to the left down a dark Galran hallway. It could be anyone else, but it was the only clue Keith could follow. It was on the way to the weapon anyways… well, only a slight bit out of the way, but it would loop around to the room he needed to be in. Why not go ahead and follow him? He knew this ship like the back of his hand after doing so many missions that required such knowledge. Getting lost was no problem.

He found that was not the case with the fugitive. He finally caught up to the man, who was standing before a fork in the hall and complaining loudly to the nonexistent 'Pidge' again.

"Pidge! That is so rude. It's not my fault that it got stolen…" There is a moment of silence as he listens to a response only he can hear. "Hey! How was I supposed to know that Nyma would do something so terrible! PIDGE! I'm not doing this right now! Just tell me right or left!" His voice was deep and annoyed. Keith waited. He knew that he would have to go to the right pathway now, whether or not the stranger went that way. Luckily for him the stranger did go to the right.

However, Keith was beginning to realize that might not be such a good thing after all, because there was only one thing to the right and if this guy was after the same thing as him… Well, you get it.

Keith could hear the sentries coming three halls down, the man didn't seem to notice. He must have been some species with poor hearing. There were quite a few with his physical traits. Skin rather than fur or scales. Circular eyes with three different colors and dark skin. What Keith assumed were his eyes were small and rounded-

Focus on the mission.

The complaining man stepped into the room that held the tell-tale weapon. There was no way to doubt it now. This man had the same objective in mind as himself. Keith should have just left him to the sentries. It would have saved him two fights.

The room wasn't too large. The size of a banquet room, but it was mostly filled with storage and junk. Some of the things had thick layers of dust, others only wore lighter dust jackets, but one thing at the end of the room was perfectly clear of any such dirt.

It was about the size of his hand, maybe a hand and a half, and it had a horizontal handle between two curved side pieces. The colors matched the man's armor and style and Keith realized that the man had mentioned earlier that something had been stolen from him. This must be it.

At this point it was up to Keith to make a quick decision. He could either stick to the original plan and steal the weapon or he could question the man about the weapon, which was obviously his. The man would be the fastest way to answers, but there were too many variables to assure that he would get everything he needed from him before the Galran, who were two hallways down trying to get through the gate he locked behind him, arrived and caused trouble. This option would be considered dangerous and impulsive. It would be a huge risk.

So Keith choose to do just that.

Keith had never been very great with words but he needed to be persuasive. He took a breath and steeled himself to quickly explain enough to get his point across and have time to question the man in detail.

"Hey!" He called out to him and stepped out of his cover. The man rapidly turned around from where he was about to grab the weapon and raised his shield protectively. Keith may have picked up an unmanly squeal behind the sounds of the Galran reaching the last gate he had shut down.

"Get back! Stay away filthy Galran!" He shouted at Keith with a burning venom lacing his tone as he lunged for the weapon.

"Wait! I'm not with Zarkon's army- Shit!" Keith leapt out of the way as a blue shot whizzed past his face, disturbing the hair that rested on his forehead. The weapon the man had grabbed had transformed into a large gun that he wasted no time firing at Keith. Making a mental note of the weapon's capabilities he began to weave his way up through the aisles of the room to get to a good vantage point.

The man was doing the same.

They stalked through the room like hunter and prey, yet neither knew who was what. It was only moments later that the Galran soldiers broke through the door. There were real Galrans at the door this time. Competent warriors most likely. They would prove to be more trouble than a few dozen sentries, which was about all Keith was prepared for.

Shots were fired loudly from a startlingly close isle and Keith took that opportunity as a distraction. He leapt atop the shelving and snuck to the end of the towering unit. With the others distracted he could leave without being noticed or suspected and he can keep up the recon missions in this ship without needed to change stories.

"Let me- Let GO OF-" The man's shout was cut short and the room became startlingly quiet. It was the deafening kind of quiet that whispered bad ideas into people's ears. With Keith's amazing hearing it might as well have been shouting ill advices to him.

He only took a single moment of consideration before he turned back and leapt one unit over to peer down to the group of soldiers from above. It seemed the man was recovering from a blow to the head by the butt of one of the many guns still aimed at him. He wasn't unconscious, but he probably wished he was. There was a thick trail of blood running down from his forehead into his eyes.

Two sentries were holding him up by his arms on either side of him. His eyes were rolling back into his skull.

"Take him to the druids," said one of the only two real Galrans in the room. Keith choose that moment to jump down and begin the fight. It was a rough teeth and nail fight, but Keith managed to wipe out the two Galrans and a couple sentries. He remembered almost none of the fight as pure instinct had taken over him and guided him thoughtlessly.

The man somehow found the strength to take out the other sentries with a few well aimed shots. It was right as Keith was slashing the last sentry that he thought he could hear a small voice. It was almost impossible to hear, but he thought he picked up a few words as he looked at the man who sat on the floor.

"Lance… Stay… Shiro's coming…" and that was all that he picked up before he noticed the sound of steps right behind him, an approaching sound he had missed as he had been focusing his attentions on the quiet voice. He didn't have time to turn around. Only time to see the barely conscious man's eyes widen and a halfhearted cry from him, "No, Shiro wait!" Before he lost all consciousness.

…

He didn't know when exactly it was that he woke up again, but when he did it was only for a moment. The few details he gathered were foggy and unreliable, but it was almost as if he was standing before a crowd of people behind a glass display as they gazed upon him. He must have only woken for half a minute because he remembers nothing else happening other than the darkness of sleep washing over him once again.

…

It was the second time he woke up that he found himself in his cell, the same cell he has been in for countless hours. He has still yet to see anyone in the time he has woken. Not a single person has passed by the thick glass of the window on the heavily barred door. His blade was gone. His armor was gone. He was left in the skin tight under suit of his armor which, needless to stay, was a bit uncomfortable to be in for so long.

His communicator was gone as well, so there was no way of telling Kolivan that he had yet to be killed by Zarkon he that he needed rescuing, not a funeral. Keith knew the risks of the Blade, he knew that if you were captured by the Galra there most likely would not be a rescue mission. It just wasn't ideal. But this wasn't Zarkon's army, at least, he didn't think it was.

He sighed for the billionth time that night and resigned himself to a while of waiting. He was currently sitting on what one might consider the bed of the cell. If you could call an uncomfortable nook in the wall right across from the window where everyone on the ship could see him sleeping a bed. (You can) In the only corner not visible from the window there was a make-shift toilet which was actually quite clean.

The only other item in the room was a faded red blanket, which was wrapped around Keith's shoulders, keeping him warm in the cold and solitary room.

And that was how he sat waiting for hours more. Cold and alone, until a familiar dark skinned man peeked his head into the cell's window.

...

Well, well, well. Look who's writing again, this gurl! Updates will come around once a week to once every other week. :)

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