#scribbes

“That’s much too high to just take the chance, I’m afraid,” Allura says with a sigh. She leans back against her right-hand control pillar, thinking. There’s no reason they should risk running into imperial forces on the way to the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora. They’re taking enough of a risk interacting with the Blades in the first place, as far as she’s concerned. They’re still galra -- and the nature by which they got in contact makes her extra wary. Who knows how else Ulaz may have interfered with Shiro’s arm? She knows she can’t voice that concern again, not without running through the same argument as before, but it’s a question that stays at the forefront of her mind regardless. 

“So what are our options?” Shiro leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Go around somehow?” 

“We’ll have to give the area a wide berth -- hence my earlier time estimate. Time is of the essence, of course, but staying alive is of even more of the essence. All of the essence, perhaps.”

“Couldn’t we take the risk and just wormhole out if things are bad?”

“Negative, Shiro. Allura’s been taxed enough as it is, and I only replaced the teludav lenses this morning. They haven’t had time to settle in. We need to give her and them some time.” 

Allura had been about to object to Coran acting as if she were some fragile maiden who didn’t know her own limits, but he is right about the lenses at least. She slumps further against the control pillar. It’s also inarguably true that she is tired. 

“Well, then I guess we’re taking a detour,” Shiro says, levering himself up from the steps and stretching. He stops suddenly and lowers his arms to cross them. "Hang on, where are we taking a detour to? We can't just...tell navigation to take us around the potential Galra zone, can we?" 

"Ah, not exactly," says Coran, perking up, although Allura doesn't see what there is to be happy about. He turns back to the helm and brings up a starmap on the viewscreen. "We can't tell it to avoid that area just using the coordinates we have for the headquarters, but --" he taps a few keys to bring an area of the map into greater focus "-- luckily, there's an old Altean outpost that should serve us well as a waypoint. If we set the coordinates to Entuk first, then from there use the coordinates Ulaz gave us, we should be able to get to the home of these 'Blades' relatively easily without going anywhere near an imperial fleet!" 

“Coran -- did you say an Altean outpost?” Allura is suddenly far more awake, and she stands up quickly. An Altean outpost on the edge of a space that isn’t directly controlled by the Galra? 

“Don’t get too excited, princess,” Coran says gently, seeing the light in her eyes. “It’s likely been inactive for millennia by now.” Allura presses her lips together so she doesn’t give voice to the tiny flame of hope she can feel starting to grow in her chest as the silence stretches on. 

“Alright, I’ll go tell the others,” Shiro says finally, and both of them turn just as the entrance to the bridge slides open. 

“Tell us what?” Lance asks from the doorway. He’s standing there having clearly stopped midstep, a small fuzzy creature Allura is pretty sure she recognizes from Pidge’s quarters hovering over his shoulder. 

“We’re going to have a slight delay,” she tells him.

“We need to take a detour to avoid an imperial fleet,” Shiro says at the same time. Lance looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“Can one of you run that by me again?” 

“We need to go around an area of potentially very high Galra activity,” Coran says. “So we’ll be adding approximately eight vargas to our trip to the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora.” 

“Oh, okay, and a varga is…an animal?” Lance says hesitantly, squinting slightly. Shiro gives a bark of laughter before he can stop himself. 

“An hour, basically,” he corrects. 

“Got it,” says Lance. “Staying out of the Galra hot zone. Cool. Though if it were Zarkon’s fleet --”

“--We’re not flying directly into Zarkon’s fleet, either,” Allura says firmly.

“Why are you here, Number Four?” Coran asks from the console. 

“I keep telling you, I’m taller than Keith!” Lance says irritably. “Shiro and Hunk being ahead of me, sure, fine. I’m reasonable. I can accept that, but I have -- easily! -- two inches on Keith, and if he’s been telling you differently --” 

“Lance,” Shiro interrupts, moving forward to put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need?” 

“Oh, uh,” Lance pauses mid-tirade. “I…” He hesitates, and the fuzzy creature bumps into the back of his shoulder encouragingly. “Oh! I need Allura.” 

“Need me for what?” Allura asks. 

“Pancakes.” 

“Pan...cakes?” Allura continues more diplomatically. “Could you expand on that, perhaps?” 

“Yeah, we’re going to make pancakes, so Hunk was looking at the stove, and then it just went --” he makes an exploding gesture widely with both hands, and the fuzzy creature trills as it dodges out of the way “-- and suddenly had all these faucet-looking things, and we need it to not make any sudden movements or attack anyone else, because I don’t think Hunk’s heart could take it.” He finishes and lowers his hands, looking around at them all. Allura frowns. 

“I think you’ll want Coran for that. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the kitchens, apart from the food goo.” 

“Oh, but Coran, he’s --” Lance stops as the fuzzy creature bumps against his hand, and he scratches it absently on the top of what Allura presumes is its head. “Alright,” he says instead. 

“This will be an adventure, young man!” Coran says, crossing the room in a few long strides and turning Lance around by the shoulder. “Now, when you say stove, to which of the querlays are you referring?” Shiro turns to Allura as the door swishes back shut and their voices fade down the hall.

“I guess we have some pancakes to look forward to, at least.” 

“Yes, what are pancakes, exactly?” Allura tries to piece out the word in her head, though the translator doesn’t seem to want to make it make that much sense in Altean. “I would have asked Lance, but, well.” She’s not sure how to finish that sentence, but luckily Shiro laughs understandingly and grabs the back of his neck with one hand.

“Yeah, he’s a little intense with you, huh.” He glances over at her, and she drops her eyes to the floor. She doesn’t want to imply she doesn’t care about Lance; it’s just -- well. 

“I fear it’s entirely misplaced,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t -- I mean, I don’t...” She trails off, looking over at Shiro now, but she can’t seem to find any more words. She doesn’t have words for what she means, that she’s not -- and has never really been -- in line with Altean norms in this particular area. She can’t help but see it as a flaw, her failure to relate properly to different sorts of people. 

“To be fair, I think it’s a bit misplaced from his end, too,” Shiro says, thankfully breaking what’s become a rather long silence. “Seems to me like that level of confidence is usually reserved for people who have no idea what they’re actually feeling.” Allura’s not sure what to say to that, but it feels true. After all, for her it’s never been a question of what she’s feeling, just what she’s supposed to feel. 

“I -- that makes sense, I suppose,” she manages aloud. 

“They’re a type of food, by the way,” he says in a lighter tone. “Pretty common across Earth in different forms, depending on the culture. I’m guessing he means American-style ones, though, so sort of fluffy, flour- and milk-based, usually served with something sweet.” 

“Milk-based?” she asks. She supposes it makes sense that humans also nurse their young. Now that she thinks about it, she’s seen a few pictures of Hunk’s and Lance’s families, at least, and their anatomy wouldn’t make sense otherwise. It seems a strange coincidence, though, not to mention an interesting ingredient in something meant for adults to consume.

“Yeah,” says Shiro, nodding absently. “They’re good. Hey, Allura?” 

“Yes?” 

“What can we expect to find on Entuk exactly?” Allura feels the tiny flame in her chest flare again, and when she speaks she can hear her own intensity, though she tries to temper it as best she can. 

“Well, I’m not sure about ‘exactly,’ but Coran said it was an old Altean outpost. If it’s never been controlled by the Galra -- which, it appears, it hasn’t -- it seems to me like there could still be something there. Something, or -- well, someone.” She clears her throat a bit and sobers suddenly, realizing as she gives voice to her hope how infinitesimally small it should be. Even if it is somehow the case that there are people -- Alteans -- left alive, the isolation of thousands of years may have made a place and a people nearly unrecognizable to her. But if there are Alteans alive -- any Alteans, whatever their situation now -- those are her people, and her place is leading them. She realizes as she thinks this that Shiro has been talking for a few moments now, and turns her attention back to him, trying to swallow the bit of guilt at having missed his first few words. 

“-- not sure what state they would be in, and our priority should really lie with getting to the Blade of Marmora headquarters as quickly as possible.” 

“Of course,” she says, trying to put together what it is he’s implying. 

“I’m sorry, Allura, but I don’t see how we can justify anything beyond using it as another set of coordinates to get around the danger zone.” His tone is heavy, and she feels a wave of grief cover her hope until it’s just a tiny flicker.