Warmth (Klance Warmth series Book 1 of +4)

9: Heat of the Moment

"Now this is more like it," he said.

"Those drones were mine," Keith said in frustration.

Lance shrugged. "Should've been faster," he teased. He popped his eyebrows up and down. "Let's go."

Keith  glared at Lance, his lips barely revealing his teeth, before shaking  his head. "Idiot," he muttered. "Get them inside," he ordered pointing  back to the cell. "If someone finds them, they'll sound the alarm."

"Oh." Lance blushed and rubbed his neck with an awkward smile. "Nice call."

Keith  shook his head and bent down to start dragging a drone back into the  cell. Lance took hold of another drone and together he and Keith piled  the drones into the cell before Keith closed the door.

"Nice muscles there, Keith," Lance said.

"Whatever,"  Keith grumbled, grabbing Lance's arm and dragging him down the hallway  towards what the Altean hoped were the escape pods.

Lance had  no idea what a modern Galra battlecruiser looked like on the outside nor  had any idea of its modern internal schematics. He made a mental note  to find and memorize those soon after he escaped this place. Hopefully,  Keith could give some insight into that endeavor.

In the meantime,  Lance trusted Keith to guide him through the hallways. There were  several close calls with flesh and blood Galra, but most of the  personnel on board appeared to be drones. The drones were easy targets.  Thankfully, Keith seemed to know all the nooks and crannies to hide in  to avoid the Galra. It made Lance wonder how often Keith had to use  these hidey-holes to avoid bad situations in the past. Considering how  many there were, it left the prince with a nagging feeling that there  had been quite a few bad situations.

They were having good luck  avoiding detection so far. Naturally, that was when things began to go  wrong. They passed another door that looked strikingly similar to  Lance's former prison cell, except Lance was willing to bet this one was  much less comfortable than his had been. There were probably prisoners  in there; innocents who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong  time. Lance remembered the Great War with intense clarity. He knew what  happened to prisoners back then. It wasn't pretty. He would bet  prisoners' fates these days were just as bad if not worse.

"Wait," he said, stopping by the door.

"What are you doing?" Keith demanded. "We can't stay here. Come on."

Lance  neatly avoided Keith's attempt to drag him further down the hallway.  "Is there anyone in there?" he asked, pointing to the cell door.

"Yes," Keith said, as if the answer was obvious. "They're probably being ferried to the nearest trade post to be sold."

"Slavery?" Lance breathed, horrified by the idea. "That was outlawed decaphoebs ago."

Keith gave the Altean an odd look. "How long were you out?" he asked. "Slavery has been legal longer than I've been alive."

"Do you agree with it?"

Keith stood straighter and schooled his expression to impassivity. "Why?"

"Yes or no?" Lance asked in a curt voice.

"No,"  the halfbreed answered after a moment. His ears twitched, falling back  against his head. "But there's only so much I can do."

Lance nodded. "This is one of them," he said. "Help me."

"Help you?"

"Open the door," Lance said.

"Wha- No," Keith said, shocked by the suggestion.