Shiro rescues or maybe both if you got the ideas.
I’ll do a Shiro rescue and see if anything else comes to mind. (And this way I get to do my guilty Lotoran ship, ahuhuhu~!)
To the untrained eye, Coran was merely sleeping as he lay cuffed on the floor of the unfamiliar ship on the comm video. But Shiro knew better. The unnatural pallor of the human’s unscarred areas of skin could only mean that he had been heavily sedated.
Behind his back, his hands clenched, but he kept his voice even. “What’s the ransom?”
“Ransom?” The voice was synthesized by a mask, but there was no missing the amused purr in it, and the sound twigged the absolute worst of his nerves. “Whatever makes you think I would request a ransom for this delightful find? I merely wanted to let you know that your little lost Paladin had been located.”
His good fist itched to connect with the face of whoever was behind that mask, preferably hard enough to break bone. He was very, very glad that none of the others had been around to receive this message, especially not Pidge or Matt. The thought of them seeing their practically adopted uncle at the mercy of a percheka like this one made him ill. “I’m going to find him, and you, and I’m going to tear you apart,” he snarled.
The inkelveh had the gall to laugh. “I look forward to the game, Altean. Let’s see you try, and in the meantime, I’ll be sure to take good care of him.”
The others only knew that Coran had been captured. That had been all he would risk telling them. That had been enough.
At least until it came to Black.
Black, for better or worse, always knew when he wasn’t telling the whole truth when it came to Coran, and had refused to budge until he did.
It had been worth nearly being deafened by her roar of rage.
Four planets and too many near-misses later, the two of them successfully dug the ship out of a ruined battlefield.
But they were on a mission.
The crunch of the hull as Black sank her teeth into it was the second most satisfying sound Shiro had ever heard, compared to the imagined sound of his fist hitting the kidnapper’s face.
Which he hoped was about to become reality as he pried open an entrance hatch and used his suit’s jets to drop through, energy spear at the ready.
Black’s capture of the ship hadn’t damaged the artificial gravity, and he headed straight for the piloting command, figuring his quarry would have wanted to keep Coran close. As he jammed the spear’s glowing blade into the hinges of the door, however, blaster fire erupted through the port window, and he had to dive for the ground.
So he wanted to play that way? Fine. Shiro could do that, too, and unholstered his pistol, aiming for the door controls.
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he broke the door down, but coming face to face with an extremely karked-off Galra was not on the list. Startled, he almost took a shot to the eye before he ducked and lunged, aiming to knock the other male off his feet with the spear. But the stranger was fast, just as fast as he was, and blocked the swing with an arm blade, locking it and ripping it out of his hands.
Not about to go down without swinging, Shiro activated his backup, and energy rippled down his arm into the spikes behind his knuckles, and he used the momentum to catch the Galra’s gun as it aimed at him again.
“Not bad for a guard pet,” the stranger hissed, and that itch to wipe the smirk off his face came back.
Surprised by Coran’s voice, he almost didn’t catch the spear as it was tossed back into his view. On reflex, he whipped it up and to the side, just as his opponent lunged, catching the other male across the side of the head with a solid crack.
The Galra dropped to the floor in a heap.
Not as satisfying as a punch. But it would do, Shiro decided, before immediately turning to find Coran cuffed to one of the passenger seats, still looking decidedly dazed. “Glories,” he breathed, going to free the human. “Are you- did he- he didn’t-”
“What are we talking about?” Coran asked blearily, apparently having trouble staying awake once the adrenaline of rousing in the middle of a fight had worn off.
Shiro bit his lip, then hugged him tightly. “Nothing. Later. That was a pretty damn good throw to manage with your boot.”
“Hah, national football championships as a lad,” Coran mumbled, fading fast.
Shiro just kept holding on to him until he was asleep again, then he glared at the unconscious Galra.
His spear was right there.
But it would take time away from getting Coran into a cryo to get him treated, and that was the vital part right now.
Decision made, he hunted out the Black Armor’s helmet and set about getting them both the nine hells out of there.
