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Kolivan keeps an eye on all of his newest recruits, but this one has his attention more often than others. He’s a reckless, rash, impulsive little thing, far smaller than any Blade Kolivan has ever trained before. It’s a challenge, for both himself and the boy, to figure out a way for him to use his size to his advantage.
The boy is good – undoubtedly – with his sword, but he has the potential to be so much better. He has easier access to areas that the Blade couldn’t reach before. He is often underestimated in a battle. He represents a whole new way of fighting that Kolivan hadn’t even considered previously.
But today is not going to plan. The boy had botched a mission yesterday, ruining their cover. The team didn’t get the information they so desperately needed. Keith had coughed, right at a critical moment. It was such a small, seemingly harmless thing, that any person with common sense should be able to avoid, but it had nearly lost him five Blades.
Kolivan was furious.
He had booked one of the smaller training decks for the entire quintent, planning to whip the boy into shape since it seemed to be necessary. Antok had gently tried to dissuade him, but he had barrelled onwards.
“Again.”
The boy slumps for a tick but pulls himself back into a defensive stance. He's worse than Kolivan thought, weak and distracted throughout their training. He's out of breath only a few doboshes in, and Kolivan is genuinely beginning to worry. This is not the same boy who had battled countless Blades to gain knowledge.
Kolivan lungs forwards but realises a tick too late that the boy isn’t paying attention. The hit lands, knocking Keith’s face to the side, a harsh crack echoing throughout the room. The boy doesn’t cry out, just stands there, dazed. His eyes are empty and unfocused. Kolivan wonders – too late – if perhaps the boy is unwell or hiding an injury.
Keith hits the ground with a bang.
Kolivan hurries to the med bay, the boy cradled in his arms. His skin is both warm and cool. Kolivan doesn’t know enough about hybrid biology to give an accurate diagnosis, but he's ill. Keith hasn’t woken up yet, just lying limp in his arms. Blade's hurry out of his way when they see him coming.
He meets Antok on the way, who silently stalks ahead of him, clearing a path and opening doors. He must have alerted Thace and Ulaz, since both greet them at the med bay. Ulaz leads him over to an empty bed in the corner.
“What happened?” he questions as he pulls out his medical supplies. He listens to Keith’s heart and breathing before checking his eyes.
“We were training, and I struck him. He made no attempt to move, he collapsed to the floor,” Kolivan replies. Ulaz hums and pulls out a thermometer.
“I believe this is the result of an illness, rather than any training mishaps, although I don’t believe that would have helped the matter. His temperature is elevated for his normal, and his breathing is loud and laboured. These are not symptoms of any galran sickness, so we must operate under the presumption that this is the result of his human half.”
“But how do we help him get better?” Thace asks. He had been gathering blankets and pillows to make the boy a temporary nest until his pack can collect him, but if he is too hot then that might not help.
“The Green Paladin sent me data on human biology some time ago, we will just have to make do” Ulaz replies, “For now, Antok can you retrieve some casual clothing or sleepwear from his pack, and alert them of his illness, please? Once you’re back, we will change him and get him more comfortable. His pack might have some more information.”
Antok nods sharply and leaves the room.
“He must have been sick since yesterday,” Kolivan realises, “That is why he coughed on the mission. I don’t understand, why did he go if he knew he was ill?”
Thace smiles sadly, “He wants to prove that he is useful to us- to you. He hasn’t even been here a pheobe, he probably didn’t feel comfortable showing that level of vulnerability around anyone outside of his pack yet, maybe not even to his pack.”
The thought makes Kolivan shudder. Their pack is of the utmost importance to the galra. It’s why Zarkon’s ships are manned by just two soldiers. Not enough to form a pack, but enough to keep them alive. They slowly grow bloodthirsty and are reduced to little more than beasts by the end. To not be comfortable and vulnerable with his pack is a foreign concept to Kolivan.
The med bay is filled with the raspy sound of Keith’s breathing as they wait for Antok to return. Ulaz has pulled up the files on human biology and skims through them as they wait. Thace folds and unfolds blankets, occasionally pressing a hand to Keith’s forehead or under his nose. Kolivan stares ahead blankly.
He should have noticed the signs earlier, he thinks. Even if they are different from galra symptoms, he has dealt with hybrids all his life. If he were the leader he thought he was, he would have noticed. Nothing about the boy the last few quintants has been right. He has been more withdrawn, weaker. His performance in both training and in the fields was shoddy at best. He has been distracted in mission briefings, often needing to be called upon several times before noticing the room around him. Kolivan sighs as he gazes at him. His scent has been slightly sour. He wonders what kind of impression Keith has of him if he was too - what, proud? Afraid? To ask for time off. Kolivan wonders why his pack didn’t insist on it.
Antok comes back later than he should. He holds a pair of dark pants and a black t-shirt. Kolivan recognises them as the pair the boy had worn when he left the castle ship. He hasn’t seen him wear them since.
Antok lets his mask fall, his eyes and mouth are set in a frown, “The boy has no pack.”
The room is silent, but Thace and Ulaz quickly fill it, speaking over and on top of each other.
“What do you mean-“ “No pack?” “That can’t be-“ “I refuse to believe-”
“Quiet!” Kolivan shouts. Ulaz and Thace fall silent instantly, allowing them all to hear the weak whimper from the bed they stand around. A kit’s whimper.
“No,” Thace breathes, and hurries towards him. Ulaz is pale-faced and frozen limbed. Antok is the only one to seem unfazed.
“He has no pack to speak of,” Thace whispers. He reaches a shaky hand to brush Keith’s hair from his face. The boy’s face is pulled into a frown. He seems even paler than before. He has always stood out from his comrades, his pale skin a stark contrast to the purples and blues of the galra around him, but now he seems almost translucent. He whimpers again and groans.
He tries to roll onto his side, but Thace stops him. Keith blearily blinks one eye open. His skin is wet now, something Kolivan has come to associate with him after he has had an intense training session. Keith moans and clamps a weak hand to his mouth.
Ulaz rushes forward and shoves a bucket into his grasp, not a moment too late. The kit leans over and lurches into it, expelling liquid from his mouth. Kolivan watches in horrified fascination.
Antok rubs a hand up and down Keith’s back, the other holding his hair from his face and the liquid. It smells sour and foul. Kolivan has never encountered a species that expels fluid when ill.
“He is vomiting to clear his digestive tract of any bad bacteria or food. His stomach lining is irritated and inflamed,” Ulaz murmurs. Kolivan shudders; all of that came from Keith’s digestive tract? He feels useless; how is he supposed to help here?
Keith moans and retches again, nothing but a string of saliva coming out. He keeps dry heaving, tears dripping down his face. He weakly pushes the bucket into Thace’s hands, who carries it away. Keith lies back, staring at the ceiling.
“S-sorry,” he croaks. His voice sounds awful, “Didn’t think I was gonna puke.”
“That’s alright, kit. Do you mind if I help you change into a more comfortable outfit?” Antok asks. Keith nods and Antok presses his fingers into the seal of the training suit. The top loosens and peels back from his skin.
Keith’s chest and back are covered in neon pink and green spots.
“Ulaz,” Antok calls. Ulaz hurries back to them, his face a blank mask. He presses a thermometer to the spots and the area around them.
“The spots themselves are much colder than Keith’s normal temperature while the rest of him is too warm,” Ulaz says. He turns and digs through the cupboards. He pulls out a bottle of strips and lays a few on his spots. “I don’t want to believe it, but this looks like Kitten Pox.”
The strips slowly turn yellow, proving Ulaz correct.
Kitten Pox isn’t anything they have encountered in decapheobes. Kolivan hasn’t met a kit since the early days of his own recruitment to the Blade.
“We have to take into account that the combination of galra and human biology is unpredictable. We don’t know if he will react the same way a pure-bred kit would. Actually, we know for a fact that he won’t. The vomiting and high temperature firstly, but there are other ways it has probably manifested itself. Luckily, it is not fatal, and everyone present has been infected before. However, we will have to quarantine ourselves. Leader, what are your orders?” Ulaz says, and they all turn to face him.
Kolivan has been standing back and letting the others take care of Keith. Kolivan is just a pack member, not their leader, not right now. He blinks and pulls himself together. What does the Blade need? What does the boy need?
“I will get in contact with Ilun. She will be in charge of the base until you deem us safe, Ulaz. I suggest we move this to our quarters, where we will all be more comfortable. Since the boy has no pack, I think we should extend an invitation for him to join ours. For now, we will take care of him as though he were our own. I’ll ask that the halls from here to our rooms are cleared for the next varga, and the cleaning bots will come in. Thace and Antok, can you two prepare our quarters for our new arrival. Ulaz and I will get him ready for transport.” Kolivan is already on his datapad, contacting Ilun and clearing corridors.
“Yes sir!” Thace says, and once given the all-clear, he and Antok head out.
Kolivan turns back to Keith, who has been lying on his side with his eyes closed for the past few doboshes. Kolivan knows he isn’t asleep from his breathing, but he doesn’t seem to be lucid either. Ulaz hurries away to pack a bag of medical supplies they might need, leaving him with the kit. This is fine, he is the Leader of the Blades. He can handle one sick kit.
He clears his throat and steps closer to Keith’s bed. Keith blearily opens his eyes. He is still shirtless, with strips sticking to his skin. He shivers and huddles in on himself. Kolivan curses their short-sightedness. They should have changed the kit instead of getting distracted.
“Wake up, Keith. You have to get changed. We need to move you.” Keith groans but doesn’t move. Kolivan frowns. “Keith, you have to get up.” Keith rolls away from him, still shivering.
“You are going to have to change him yourself,” Ulaz calls, “I doubt he is even hearing what you’re saying!”
Kolivan sighs, and tentatively lifts the kit’s black shirt. His training suit pools around his waist. He holds it over the boy’s head and pulls it down. It sits on his shoulders.
“Come on Keith, just pull your arms through.” Keith does no such thing. Kolivan grasps his arms to pull them through.
He sighs in relief but realises that he needs to get Keith’s pants as well. At least he can just grab the ends and pull. Keith falls onto his back and nearly slides off the bed. Kolivan curses as he catches him, barely saving Keith from a nasty fall. He can’t be bothered getting Keith back into pants, so he just wraps the kit in a blanket. There, good to go. Keith looks happier swaddled in his blanket, a tiny smile gracing his face.
“We’re good to go, Ulaz,” he calls. He picks Keith up, supporting his butt and back with his hands. He can’t imagine Keith – healthy and alert Keith – would be too happy about being carried around like this, but it’s the easiest for Kolivan.
They make it to their quarters with no problems. Keith sleeps, his head pillowed against Kolivan’s shoulder and overly warm breath tickling his neck. He doesn’t wake when Kolivan sets him down in their nest, just wiggles and settles with a raspy purr.
Kolivan suppresses a smile.
The kit doesn’t wake up for a further four vargas. Ulaz checks him every half a varga or so, but he doesn’t decline. Kitten Pox is a tricky illness, it leaves kits weak and helpless. They are completely and utterly dependant on their pack. It is something almost all kits go through, but that doesn’t make it a pleasant experience.
Keith stirs and whimpers, struggling to get out of his blankets. Kolivan gently pulls them from him, and he quietens. He doesn’t seem to recognise where he is, not at first. He struggles to sit up with a gasp that leads him into another coughing fit.
“Wh-Where am I?” he asks, eyes flickering about the room. He lands on each of the Blades and his eyes blow wide with surprise.
“You’re in our quarters, kit. You were sick and needed to be quarantined.” Ulaz replies. He holds a packet of water out to Keith, who takes it carefully. The kit frowns.
“Why amn’t I in the med-bay?” Keith asks after he takes a sip.
Ulaz and Thace look to Kolivan. “Since we had the most contact with you, we also needed to be quarantined,” he says, “You need someone to look after you.”
“Oh,” Keith says, “Thanks.” He starts to stand, knees wobbly and weak. He takes a step forward and nearly falls but Antok catches him.
“Where are you going?” he asks. Keith blinks up at him.
“I’m going back to my room?” Keith says, “So you guys don’t have to look after me anymore?”
Thace huffs and pulls Keith back into the nest. “Whether you like it or not, we’re all being quarantined together. You’re still sick, don’t worry about it, we’ll look after you.”
It’s a testament to how ill the kit truly is, as he doesn’t protest any further, just sinks into Thace’s embrace. He is already falling back asleep.
When the kit is better, they will have to discuss the discovery of him being a kit, and his lack of a pack. But for now, they are content to nurse him back to health.