Chapter Text
Determination
N.
Firm or fixed intention to achieve a desired end
Boredom
N.
The state of being weary and restless through lack of interest
Lance was bored.
He sighed, going to lay down on the floor. Sure, on the Castle, he was bored too, but at least there was things to do! He learned Altean and Common Speak, he started Galran, or at least the old dialect, he played with the Mice, he hung out with Kaltenecker, and there was Coran! Coran and his stories from his past. God, he loved those nights, when both of them, or just one, was drowning in grief about the past and homesickness and nostalgia, and they just talked. Filled the silence with happiness and sadness, nostalgia and grief. At least it was something.
But, here?
All he had was to learn the Sandeian language, and plot his course, and make up stories. Think about home and the Castle, and strengthen his resolve to make it back and not just- Oh, and avoid his medical papers.
So, not much to do. Other than worry and try not to worry. Very hard stuff.
He turned towards the cockpit, staring at the stars and the expanse of space before turning away. He sighed, curling in on his side.
God, he missed his family. His friends. He even missed that mean old cat that always chased him. The beach, the traffic, the yelling of his siblings…
He missed noise.
It was too quiet, and sure, he got semi-used to the quiet of a big castle with only four other people, 2 Alteans, 4 mice, and a cow. But it was still noise.
Here, it was just his breathing, the hum of the engine, and the void of space.
He didn’t like it.
••••
“Maybe I’ll be like Chuck and get myself Wilson the Volleyball,” he murmured, staring at the radar thingy that blinked with signs of concentrated quintessence, little grey Fuxlie signs popping up every now and again. “Maybe I can snag one of the fuzzy guys,” he said, sitting up and scooting to the front window, “Yulle did say they were harmless…” He looked at the Quin-Radar, humming as the grey dot floated towards the area he was heading for.
He grinned, standing up and stretching, “Time to catch me a Wilson!” he said, grabbing his helmet. He attached a line from his suit to the ship. He stepped into the airlock, putting his helmet on before stepping out, breathing out harshly as his waist was tugged. “Okay Lance, don’t get lost, just grab and go, okay?” he said. He waited, leaning against the top of the ship.
Being apart of a large family, growing up as a middle-ish child left him finding fun on his own or dragging his siblings and cousins to cause trouble with him. His family had a large ranch, a bunch of land, and live stock. He grew up with a lot of sound, whether it be beds bouncing in the kids or adults room(the one day he walked into the room wasn’t the last day-), or the cows mooing, or the chickens just being chickens, or the ocean and the dolphins, overall there was a lot of noise and movement and things to do. He’d race his cousins on the horses, he’d braid the girls hair, and they’d braid his, he’d dive into the ocean with his brothers, he’d surf alone, he’d be doing something.
When he moved to the states, all that changed to his immediate family and an uncle and aunt. But there was still at least 10 people in the house. There was still livestock and horses and cows, there was still swim lessons and competition, there was still noise.
Waiting was never for him. The quiet? He used to pray for it but every test he’d get antsy from the lack of sound. Patience? Now he could do that, but there had to be a goal. Pointlessly waiting in the quiet was torture.
He gasped as something warmed against his chest. He looked down at the deep blue fluffy thing attached to his chest. He stared at it before yelping, grabbing it and holding it out away from his body, “Aren’t you supposed to be gray?” he asked, watching as the blue faded slightly, yellow popping up here and there. His eyes widened, “Woah, that’s so cool,” he breathed. “I’m gonna name you, I can’t do Wilson, thats plagiarism,” he mused.
He tucked the Fuxlie into his chest, grabbing the line and heading back into the ship and breathing as he sat down. He held the Fuxlie out, staring at the yellow and blue, “Hmmm…Aurora, maybe?” he mused. No, that wouldn’t work. “Luna? Chica? Mariposa?” the ball of fuzz seemed to quiver, yellow starting to overtake the blue, “Mariposa? You like Mariposa?” he said, smiling. It chirped and he laughed, holding it close, “Mariposa it is,” he said.
••••
Talking to himself was often a common occurrence. His mama would always say that people were gonna think he was crazy, but then he’d replied that they’d be right and they’d laugh about it.
Not now though…he was scared of going crazy. He was alone with a chirping fuzz ball and it was quiet and he was talking to a probably not very sentient Fuxlie and to himself.
He really didn’t want to go crazy.
••••
Travel Log Entry 1
“Aha!” he grinned, staring at the recorder. He sat down in the pilots seat, propping his chin up on his palm. “So, uh, how do I do this?” he mused, looking out into space. “I guess, I’m Lance McClain, or well…I’m Santiago Lance McClain-Acosta, I’m from Terra, Earth- well, I’m from Cuba,” he said, wringing his hands. He sighed, running a hand down his face, “Dios, this is so weird,” he murmured. “Um, well, I don’t really know where I am, how long I’ve been out here,” he glanced at the medical papers, “But it’s been more than 3 movements and, well, hold one…” he did the quick math in his head, eyes widening, “It’s been…7 movements,” he breathed.
“Lance, signing off.”
••••
He needed food to survive. That was, well, obvious. And the food Yulle gave him was running on fumes. He had thought this planet would be fine, there was no warning notes from it, but it turns out everything on this planet is aggressive and dangerous. He has found some fruits and bugs, before he had been attacked.
Lance yelped, ducking beneath his attacker. His eyes widened as the large axe slammed onto the ground. He turned and scrambled away, snagging a piece of metal and sprinting away. He didn’t want to fight. He couldn’t fight. He wasn’t Keith. He wasn’t Shiro. He-
A hand landed on his shoulder and he was yanked back. He spun, arm raised high and landing with a thunk into-
Oh Dios. No no no.
He stumbled away from the gore, his now dead attacker falling forward and the metal popping out of his head, blue blood staining the ground.
He turned and threw up.
••••
Travel Log Entry 4
The recorder clicked. He scrubbed at his eyes and pulled the blanket he bought around his shoulders.
“So, I,” he swallowed thickly, tears prickling his eyes again. “I went down to a planet.” He looked down at his hands. “Someone attacked and-“ he sobbed, clenching his shaking hands. He looked away. “I-“ he shook his head.
“I don’t know what I’m doing out here,” he rasped. “I’m not Shiro, Keith…hell even Coran would’ve been a better fit than me. I’m…I’m just Lance. A nobody from Cuba.” He sniffled, digging his palm into the corner of his eye. He picked up the file, desperate to not think about what he had done. He flattened a hand over the top of his medical file. Yulle had been hesitant to tell him about what happened, hell. Yulle hadn’t ever told him.
“I know I gotta look at them,” he said softly, spinning in his chair, throwing the file on the dashboard. “But I just have this sinking feeling that I’m gonna find out something bad.”
Mariposa quivered against his chest, her fur a black with blue speckles.
Lance sighed, looking away, hiding his face in her fur. “It can wait a little longer, I’ll look at it with Coran when I get back. Lance, signing off.”
••••
Travel Log Entry 6
“Lexuli,” he tried, groaning when the language beeped, saying his pronunciation was wrong. “Why is this language so hard!” he yelled, falling back in his chair.
He let out a yelp as the chair fell down, and he scrambled. A harsh pain erupted from his head and he groaned, curling up on his side. “Ow,” he whined, holding his head. The language learner beeped.
“Oh shut up,” he muttered. He wasn’t even trying.
••••
Travel Log Entry 8
“Phoeb 3,” he murmured, “It’s been, um, 2 movements since my last check in and, uh, I’m getting worried,” he said, holding his legs to his chest. “I just stopped to restock on some, you know, interaction, I felt like I was going crazy,” his voice was strained as be shoved a hand through his hair, standing up and pacing. “Human’s aren’t meant to be solitary, right? I mean, I’m legit going crazy here. I craved noise back in the beginning, but when I went down to the mall, it was overstimulating. There were 10 other people! I-I don’t know…”
He shook his head, collapsing in his chair. He didn’t know how long had passed before he looked up, staring out of the window. Mariposa was a deep, dark blue, floating up and cuddling in his lap. He sighed, scrubbing his face. He looked at the papers, picking them up gingerly. It looked liked it a dictionary, what with how thick the stack of papers was. He bit his lip, “Uh, I think it’s time I look at these,” he said. He glanced at the camera, before he shut his eyes and breathed out shakily.
He opened the page.
••••
Lance sobbed, twisting his hands in his hair.
God.
No.
It couldn’t be.
He had been unconscious for a deca-phoeb? No. No that was impossible. How long has he been out here? Almost 2 deca-phoeb? How long has it passed outside in normal space? Oh fuck, is the team okay? Is his family okay?
What if the team already left for earth and told everyone he was dead?
He retched, finding the trash dump and throwing up.
No. That…that can’t be.
••••
Travel Log Entry 9
“Phoeb 3.” He curled in on himself, legs pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tight around them. “So, um, time update? I left Sandei 3 phoeb ago, and I was at Sandei for, um 5 phoeb?” He swallowed thickly, eyes straying to his medical file. “I read the file, finally. I get why Yulle didn’t want to tell me. I just, I don’t know, I guess it would have been better to find out from him. But….How do you tell someone they’ve been in a coma for a deca-phoeb?”
He let out a hoarse laugh. “I, um, so, anyway, I’ve been in the Quantum Abyss for a deca-phoeb and 8 phoeb’s. It’s…I’m going to be out here for a long time, huh?” He said, his voice thick with disbelief. “Time’s different in here, I think, I just hope it’s faster rather than slower, I don’t know if I can handle it if 10 years—deca-phoeb’s, pass out there while I only live like 4 deca-phoebs…”
He let out a sigh, “I miss my family. I miss…everyone. I miss the sun, I miss people, I miss good food, I miss, Dios, I miss everyone,” he whispered, head tucked into the little area in his arms.
“Um, anyway…this is Lance, signing off.”
••••
Lance sat up front, curled deep into the chair as he stared out into space. He used to think it was so pretty. I mean, all the stars and galaxies and the way it was shown in movies made out to be this magical place.
And it had been, at first. Now? Now it was just empty with little bits of rock or light every now and then. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as the movies showed it. Space was boring.
He leaned forward to look at the map, eyes scanning the surrounding areas. If the map was right, he would be going to a new planet. Urion. Yulle didn't have any notes on the people, except they were a well known post for weapons and armor, which Lance would need. As nice as it had been, the weapons Yulle gave him weren't...the best.
He looked forward again. Soon enough, he should see it. Hopefully. He didn't think he could last much longer alone.
Mariposa let out a chirp, floating over and landing on his head. He let out a chuckle, "You bored too, Mariposa? Wouldn't blame you...then again, you just float around in space, so maybe boredom is normal for you."
Lance reached up and brought her down into his lap, letting out a soft sigh. He stared back out at the nothingness, "Just a little longer," he murmured.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Lance's brows furrowed as he looked around. What was that? He let out a yelp when a large red sign popped onto the dash. He blinked, his heart racing. He reached out and grabbed the flimsy weapon, swallowing thickly.
Then he was surrounded by light.
He looked around, eyes wide as he took in the surroundings. Holy shit.
Was this Urion?