The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Chapter 1 - From Days of Long Ago Part 1

Yes! You read that right! Bloodrayne’s Voltron fic is finally here! We can wait for you all to read and enjoy it!

Release schedule will be: one new chapter every Saturday.

Season 1 - Episode 1

“From Days of Long Ago, Part 1”

To most people, the night sky was little more than a decoration for sleep; something to be admired from afar. To some, however, it was an endless ocean of possibilities and mysteries shrouded in twinkling ink. Strange yet familiar; plain yet enticing; quiet yet—

“Uh, Matt? Need your eyes down here, buddy.”

The young man jumped slightly and gave a sheepish smile. He readjusted his grip on the machine and began slowly sliding out the ice cylinder, saying, “Sorry, sorry. Just, y’know, isn’t it so cool how we’re out here, thousands of miles from Earth? I mean, this far out, can you imagine what we’ll find? I-It could be anything—”

“Careful!” said Shiro, a sharp crackling sounded through the radio.

Jolting back to his work, Matt saw the ice cracking as he accidentally pulled it at the wrong angle. Thankfully, it didn’t become more than a hairline fracture before (after mild panic) he corrected himself and removed the sample in one piece. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Okay, I realize this is a tall order, but can we keep the conspiracy talk to a minimum today, please?”

“Relax, Shiro, it’s in good hands,” Matt replied, standing with the ice cradled in his arms like a baby. “Who graduated from the top science school in the country a year early?”

“Your dad.” He playfully flicked the young scientist’s helmet, causing him to flail as he nearly tipped over in the low gravity before Shiro grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.

Dr. Holt chuckled. “Both of you be careful. These samples could lead to the next breakthrough in astrological science.”

He had a gleam in his eye just then, the same one he always got when talking about his work. Matt had seen it many times growing up, but never quite like this; out in the field. It was downright infectious, and he couldn't help smiling himself as he and Shiro mindfully made their way to the senior scientist and slid the ice into a transport container.

Dr. Holt's eyes reflected its glittering surface. “Just imagine what these could tell us about Kerberos — or our solar system for that matter!”

“Yeah, they could even contain evidence of” — Shiro put on his best spooky voice and spread his hands for effect — “ALIENS.”

“They could!” said both Holts in unison.

‘Here we go again,’ he thought, laughing and rolling his eyes.

“We could be the first people ever to find traces of extraterrestrial life!” Matt gushed with stars in his eyes.

“Can you imagine?” His father looked like he was about to get lost in his daydream, his hands over his heart. “It would be the pinnacle of my career.”

“Careful not to swoon over the samples, Doc,” Shiro deadpanned behind the two with a smirk. He began carefully pushing the crate over to the habitation unit — or HAB unit — where it would be a bit safer from excitable scientists.

Dr. Holt came up behind him, continuing as though the pilot had never spoken. “Of course, it’ll be a while before we get the full test results back, but it should be well worth it.”

“Let’s just focus on getting them back to Earth first,” said Shiro, taking extra care to ensure the tacks on his boots got a solid grip on the moon’s icy surface.

Matt slid up next to him with a teasing smile. “Well, someone’s eager to get home. This coming from the guy who wouldn’t stop going on and on about how his destiny was to be in the stars?”

Dr. Holt laughed at his son’s theatrical reenactment while Shiro sputtered a little, his face growing warm. “Hey, I never said ‘destiny’, okay? What I said was that I wanted to see the stars. And yes, I do want to get home, because it turns out this place is” — he looked around at the frozen, lumpy rock they were on — “kinda boring.”

“Fair enough,” said Matt, following his friend’s gaze. “Still, I’m guessing it also has something to do with a certain cadet?”

A more serious expression appeared on Shiro’s face, his voice losing its playfulness as he replied, “Well, yeah. I mean, come on, you can’t tell me you two aren’t itching to tell Katie and Colleen.” His companions hummed and nodded. He tightened his grip on the crate. “I’m already having to miss two birthdays and Christmases to be out here. There’s no way I’m missing his graduation.”

His eyes wandered back to the stars, easily spotting his home planet among the bright clusters he’d studied all his life. However, there was something he didn’t spot; something lurking just beyond Pluto.

“Graduation?” Matt repeated as they neared the HAB. “Dude, that’s, like, over a year away. We’ll be back way before then.”

“I have to agree with Matt on this one,” said Dr. Holt. “That goes beyond even my levels of worrywart, which, honestly, is impressive.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shiro huffed, a dusting of red returning to his cheeks.

He pushed the crate into the HAB’s storage unit and activated its magnetic bottom to secure it in place, alongside the other five containers they’d filled over the past week.

As he came out and locked the door, Matt gave him a cheeky grin. “I mean, we should’ve seen this coming, really. I bet his wallet’s already stuffed with cute pictures.”

Shiro smirked. “Oh, you mean like the ones your mom has of you? Now those were super adorable.”

It was Matt’s turn to blush; he pointed a finger threateningly. “Hey, we agreed to never mention that!”

“Nah, I don’t remember that part.”

Matt opened his mouth again, but Dr. Holt put his arms around the pair’s shoulders (a decent feat considering the height difference between him and Shiro), saying, “Alright, boys, that’s enough. Come on, let’s get inside. All this arguing’s making me hungry.”

“I hear that,” replied Matt as they started walking to their living unit. “But you know what really gets your appetite going? A good conspiracy theory.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll definitely get my stomach going,” said Shiro. “In the wrong direction.”

His friend glared at him while Dr. Holt chuckled and shook his head hopelessly. Matt wouldn’t be stopped so easily, though, and he launched into a detailed breakdown concerning mutant food. Shiro rolled his eyes again, only to pause mid-roll. He thought, just maybe, he caught a glimpse of something, and paused outside the HAB.

“Hey, Shiro, close the hatch already,” Matt called, hands poised to take off his spacesuit. When his friend didn't answer, he muttered, “And you get on us for daydreaming.”

“Just a sec,” Shiro replied, his gaze locked on the strange something.

He slid into the HAB, grabbed the electronic binoculars from their charging station, and went back out. Setting the zoom to maximum, he squinted at the black mass blocking out the stars. Was it getting bigger?

“What are you looking at?” asked Matt as he and his father poked their heads through the hatchway.

"A meteor shower? Oh, tell me it's not an asteroid," Dr. Holt said, searching the sky.

“I’m not sure…” Shiro zoomed out. More and more stars were vanishing.

Wait, now they were reappearing, but they were…purple? The alarms suddenly blared to life, nearly deafening them. Matt rushed to the sensor array; his face went ashen at the sight of the radar. Shiro’s gut dropped into his boots, the binoculars falling away.

“No way…” Matt breathed, now standing beside his friend.

“What? What is it?” asked Dr. Holt, eyes darting between them for answers.

The object exited the shadow of another nearby moon. Dark metal glinted in the light of the distant sun. Shiro’s blood turned as cold as Kerberos ice.

——————————

Somewhere on Earth, a TV turned on, the words ‘Breaking News’ plastered on the screen.

“This just in: sad news today. After weeks of silence, we’ve received confirmation that the highly anticipated Kerberos Mission, whose crew consisted of Major Samuel Holt, his recently-graduated son Lieutenant Mathew Holt, and acclaimed pilot Captain Takashi Shirogane, has been deemed unsuccessful.”

——————————

Screams flooded the radio. The small crew ran; the beam of light tore up the ground just behind them.

——————————

Another anchorman echoed the story. “According to the Galaxy Garrison, the shuttle’s crash was due to pilot error. They have no further comment at this time other than condolences to family and friends.”

——————————

Matt’s scream became a shriek as his leg got caught in the beam and yanked out from under him. Dr. Holt cried out for his son; then the same happened to him, and the two were pulled into the sky.

——————————

“As of today, all members of the Kerberos crew are declared—”

——————————

Shiro’s rushing blood was all he could hear before he, too, was engulfed in sickly purple light.

——————————

“—dead.”

“Shiro…you’re gonna come back, right?”

“I promise.”

A searing light pierced the darkness; images flashed like lightning; a face twisted in agony.

“KEITH, HELP!”

A choked scream tore from a young man’s throat as he bolted upright, a knife raised defensively. Frantically, he searched the darkness for the face he’d seen, his free hand clawing into the cushion beneath him, but it was nowhere to be found. His muscles unlocked, the knife dropping into his lap, and he slumped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘Just a dream. Just another stupid dream.’

Taking a deep breath, he looked over to a large corkboard across from him, eyes tracing the red string linking the various pictures and papers to each other. They stopped on one in particular. He stood and walked over to it.

His gaze narrowed. “Time to get to work.”

———————————

One year later...

———————————

The icy surface of Kerberos glittered in the light of distant stars, its misshapen structure almost inviting. Lance didn’t need an invitation, though. He was going to ace this mission like he’d never aced it before…which he hadn’t, but that was beside the point.

He confidently rattled off the familiar words. “Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14: Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission.”

A tremor ran through the three-man shuttle (the latest in Garrison tech) as it banked toward the moon harshly. From the back came the very disgruntled groan of the shuttle’s engineer, and his wobbly voice called out, “Lance, can you please keep this thing straight?”

“Relax, Hunk, I’m just getting a feel for the stick,” the young pilot replied with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not like I did this.”

He suddenly pitched the ship downward, making Hunk whimper and groan, every muscle in his large body tensing.

“Or this.”

The ship jarred to the left this time. It would’ve knocked Hunk out of his seat had he not been wearing his safety belt. Thankfully, the ship quickly straightened out, though it did little to soothe his stomach.

“Okay,” he said dazedly, his usually warm brown skin pale with nausea, “unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies in this thing, you better KNOCK IT OFF, MAN!”

Just then, an alert appeared on one of the side screens.

“If you two daisies are done, we’ve picked up a distress beacon,” said the third member of the crew: the com-spec, in charge of manning the sensors, stationed off to the side. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for in intellect…and snark.

“Alright, look alive, team,” said Lance, adjusting the shuttle's telemetry. “Pidge, track coordinates.”

“Copy.” Pidge’s eyes locked on the blinking dot, his hands moving over the console almost of their own accord.

“Knock it off, Lance, please!” Hunk called as the ship began shaking again.

“Oh, this one’s on you, hermano, we got a hydraulic stabilizer out,” his friend replied.

Hunk’s eyes snapped open as the warning beep finally registered in his ears. He grabbed the tablet, eager to have a a distraction, only for a particularly sharp jolt to nearly send his lunch flying. With every ounce of willpower he had, he swallowed back the bile.

“Oh no,” he muttered, his stomach gurgling with the promise of a second attempt.

“No-no-no. Fix now, puke later,” said Lance.

‘I’m not gonna mess this up, I’m not gonna mess this up,’ he mentally chanted as if it were a prayer.

“I lost contact!” Pidge suddenly said. “The shaking is interfering with our sensors.”

Lance leaned around his seat impatiently. “Come on, Hunk!”

“It’s not responding,” he panted, wringing out his orange, sweat-soaked bandanna before slipping it back on his forehead. He unbuckled and stumbled over to the gearbox across from him to repair the stabilizer manually. It was only a couple steps, but it might as well have been a mile to his unsteady feet.

Another beep sounded, this time on the main screen. The ship had a lock on the S.O.S. signal. Lance’s head snapped up at the sound, a grin appearing on his face.

“Aha! Nevermind, fellas, thar she blows!” He rolled his shoulders and settled back into his chair with a self-satisfied look. “Preparing for approach on visual.”

Pidge raised an auburn eyebrow over his large, round glasses at him, saying, “I don’t think that’s advisable with our current mechanical” —Hunk’s cheeks puffed out as he gagged loudly, making the com-spec grimace— “and gastrointestinal issues.”

Pushing down the vomit, Hunk said, “Agreed.”

“Stop worrying,” said Lance dismissively. “This baby can take it. Can’t you, champ?” He patted the console, and immediately the ship rumbled in a deeply unnerving way, making him pull his hand back like it was a dog about to bite. “Uh, see? Sh-she was nodding. She was nodding.” His com-spec seemed less-than convinced as he cleared his throat. “Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here.”

Though he rolled his eyes, Pidge unbuckled, his unfortunately child-like stature forcing him to stand on his seat to reach the radio. He grabbed for the mic, but the fingers of his oversized suit gloves flapped about, preventing him from getting a solid grip, making him growl and stick out his tongue in frustration. The shuttle chose that moment for a third jolt, sending him to the floor with a painful thud!

He didn’t have time to groan before Lance started yelling again. “What are you doing!? Get a grip! And, Hunk, stop that shaking!”

“Why don’t you do it if you’re so great at it,” Pidge grumbled, righting himself and buckling snappishly.

“I’m try—aahhh…oh no—” Hunk’s voice trailed off as his lunch came knocking for final time.

He wretched straight into the gearbox, and at once, a nauseating stench filled the ship. On the plus side, the shaking did stop, though it wasn’t clear what exactly had stopped it. Regardless, the mechanic took it as a victory and closed the box, slinking back to his chair on all-fours while Pidge finally grabbed the mic and hailed the downed ship.

“Attention lunar vessel: This is Galaxy Garrison rescue craft one-Victor-six-three-Tango coming in for landing and extraction.” He shot a pointed side-eye at Lance and added, “Against crew recommendations.”

“No time for your mutinous comments, Pidge,” the pilot replied with a glare of his own. “They’re going under, and we’re going in.”

He pushed the ship faster, subsequently proving that the shaking problem hadn’t actually been solved, merely muffled. It turned out to be the least of their issues, though. As they crested a hill, a large ice arch appeared in their path.

“Watch out for that overhang!” cried Pidge, both he and Hunk clinging to their armrests for dear life.

Lance, on the other hand, gave an impish grin and said, “Relax. Back in flight school, you know what they called me? They called me the Tailor because of how I thread the needle.”

How was it possible for a face to look so sly yet so stupid? Pidge had marveled at it since the day they met, and there still wasn’t time to figure it out. Lance yanked on the stick, twisting the ship aggressively. His teammates’ screams grew louder the closer they got.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Lance muttered through gritted teeth, “come around, come around, come on—”

The shuttle jerked far worse than before, the screen blinking out for a second as alarms started blaring and red lights seared his eyes.

“We lost a wing!” Hunk shrieked, his tablet coated in warnings.

“Oh snart,” Lance mumbled flatly.

There was nothing he could do as the ship fell and slammed into the ground, plunging the crew into darkness.

“Simulation failed.”

‘Yeah, I can read,’ he thought bitterly. He slammed his fist against the armrest and knocked his head back with a groan.

“Nice work, Tailor,” said Pidge sourly.

Lance scowled at him and went to make a retort, but the doors suddenly whipped open and cut him off.

“Roll out, donkeys!” barked a sharp, weathered voice.

In short order, the three filed out of the simulator and lined up along the walkway, their heads hanging. Fixing them with his usual one-eyed glower, Colonel Iverson stood like an angry statue, towering over them, and called out to the rest of the class, “Well, let’s see if we can’t use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you. Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made?”

One boy raised his hand and replied, “The engineer puked in the main gearbox.”

“Yes. As everyone knows, vomit is not—” Iverson turned sharply to Hunk, making him jump, “—an approved lubricant for engine systems. What else?”

“The com-spec removed his safety harness,” a blonde girl answered, not bothering to raise her hand.

Another girl practically leaped into the air as her hand shot up. “The pilot crashed!”

“Correct. And—”

“And to top it all off, they were arguing with each other the whole jump.”

Everyone’s head turned to the new voice, and who should it belong to but the number one pilot in their class, James Griffin. His sharp looks could put supermodels to shame (Lance thought it had to be the result of artificial enhancements) though right now his flawless features were twisted into an annoyed expression.

He stepped to the front of the crowd and went on. “Honestly, if they’re this bad individually, you’d think they could at least be able to work as a team. Then again, I guess crashing a fake ship would need to be a group effort.”

Scattered chuckles arose from the class while the trio sent him various levels of death glares, Lance’s being the most severe as he growled.

“Cadet!” barked Iverson, silencing the crowd. “You will not interrupt a superior officer, am I clear?”

James easily cooled his expression and saluted. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“However,” Iverson continued, returning his attention to the three, “I do agree with his assessment. The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers, but these kinds of mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission.”

Pidge’s eyes widened. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “That’s not true, sir!”

“What did you say!?”

Lance slapped his hand over his friend’s mouth, ignoring his muffled protests, and said, “Sorry, sir, I-I think he hit his head when he fell out of his chair, but point taken.”

He smiled as wide and charmingly as he could, but Iverson wasn’t having it. His boots thudded darkly as he stepped forward, his shadow making Lance gulp as he released his now-silent teammate and stood stalk straight.

“I hope I don’t need to remind you that the only reason you’re here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and washed out.” The man spoke slowly and deliberately, ensuring every word sank in. “Don’t follow in his footsteps.”

Lance swallowed thickly but quietly, too scared of incurring further wrath to look away like he desperately wanted to.

“Dismissed.”

The trio trudged away, their heads hung low while Iverson called for a janitor. As they passed through the crowd of cadets, they could hear James mumble to himself, “Kogane would’ve aced it.”

A bolt of lightning shot through Lance’s body, stopping him dead in his tracks. Fury rising, he turned to give the pompous snart a piece of his mind, only for Hunk to grab him and put a hand over his mouth.

“Can we at least try not get into any more trouble today?” he pleaded tiredly, easily picking up his friend and dragging him away while he shook his fist.

In their antics, they didn’t notice Pidge going on ahead, a sour look on his face.

———————————

Amber sunlight cascaded through the window, warming the small house to a temperature most people would likely find unbearable. Its occupant, however, paid it no mind as he worked. With practiced precision, he slipped two thin wires into a water bottle filled with a cloudy liquid, then sealed off the opening with several layers of electrical tape. He gingerly set the bottle down on the table in front of him, right next to a paper with a charcoal impression of a meteor strike. The young man, after attaching it to a 9-volt battery via a second set of wires, hooked up the first set to an old cell phone and taped both to the bottle. Once he was certain they wouldn’t slip off, he placed the makeshift device next to three others and got to work on number five.

———————————

“‘Kogane would ace it,’” Lance recited in a mocking voice. “‘I’m sooo cool.’ Pfft. Who does that jerk think he is?”

“Uh, you talking about James or Keith?” asked Hunk as he slipped on his undershirt. Thankfully, the two had made it to the locker room without further incident, and he was beyond grateful to be exchanging his too-tight spacesuit for his cadet uniform.

“Both!” Lance cried, waving a sock around for emphasis. “But mostly Keith. Everybody just loves him and for what? Because he could do some fancy stunts? Well, you know what, when I pull those stunts, I get yelled at!”

He yanked on his boot far harder than he needed to, making the leather snap, and nearly leaning off the bench with how far back he tilted.

Hunk muttered, “Well, he never broke a wing doing those stunts.”

The speed at which Lance’s head snapped around could’ve won him the Indie 500. “Whose side are you on!?”

“I’m not taking sides, I jus—” The older boy cut himself off with a groan. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “Look, I just don’t think it’s healthy for you to obsess over this, especially when what we need to focus on is team-building, like Iverson said. If we don’t step up our game soon, he’s gonna give us latrine duty for life. And you know how much I hate cleaning toilets.” Even the thought of it made his stomach gurgle threateningly.

Lance grimaced, recalling the last time they’d gotten the sentence. They’d needed to clean the toilets twice; easy enough the first time, but then Hunk had attempted to purge one of the stalls of the putrid remnants of that week’s burrito night — the entire stall. They’d never known the Human body could hold so much puke. Shaking his head to clear the memories, Lance tried to think of something to distract him, preferably something fun. An idea struck him then, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“You know what, pal? You’re absolutely right,” he said, grabbing his uniform jacket and slinging it over his shoulders as he stood. “Let’s go do some team-building.”

“Really?” Hunk smiled in relief. He tugged on his second boot and scrambled to catch up to his friend, who was already halfway to the door. “That’s great!”

———————————

“This is absolutely not great, this is so not great, this is so not great!” Hunk squeaked.

“Shhh!” Lance snapped with a finger over his mouth.

Even as a whisper, the big guy’s panicking would undoubtedly draw attention. Peeking around the corner, he spotted a few cadets still chatting in the darkening hallway outside their dorms before an officer ordered them to bed. He waited until everyone had gone, then slunk carefully out of his hiding place.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” said Hunk as he reluctantly followed.

His friend looked back at him with a raised eyebrow as he plastered himself against a wall like he’d seen in all his favorite spy movies. “Hey, team bonding was your idea.”

“Yeah, team bonding—” he leaned closer, his voice jumping up an octave, “—not team expulsion!”

“Oh, please,” whispered Lance, rolling his eyes and continuing on, “they’re not gonna expel us just for sneaking out.” Hunk opened his mouth. “Because they won’t know we were even gone. Look, all we gotta do is grab Pidge and slip past the patrols, and then we’ll be home free to hit the town, loosen up, meet some nice girls, and we’ll be back by morning inspection.”

It was Hunk’s turn to raise a brow. “Right, because your plans have such a high success rate.”

“Name one time my plans haven’t worked.”

The two paused beside the instructors’ lounge, Lance taking a quick peek through the glass to make sure no one was watching. The coast officially clear, they ducked down and crawled beneath the window.

“Uh, let’s see, how about in back in middle school when you tried to catch a stray dog and nearly blew up a car?”

“Okay, well—” he began.

“Or when you tried to pull that crazy prank on Collin and ended up turning Professor Hawkins blue for a week?”

“In my defense—”

“And let’s not forget today, with the cherry on top being right now.”

By the time Hunk finished his rant, they’d made it past the window and were coming up on another corner.

Scowling, Lance replied, “Okay, so a few of my ideas haven’t worked out, but at least they were fun adventures, right?”

His friend’s face went deadpan. “Seeing how all of your little ‘adventures’ end with us in the principal’s office, no.”

Footsteps from the adjoining hall cut off any retort. Fortunately, the guard passed without seeing the two. Unfortunately, it was due to them hiding in a pair of garbage cans. Opening the flap of his can, Lance kept an eye on the guy until he rounded the corner, then leapt out. The lid clattered to the floor but he was too proud of his superhero landing to notice, flicking the hood of his windbreaker stylishly. Hunk’s exit was far less graceful; he only managed to squeeze out as far as his waist before his weight tipped him over.

“Shhhh!” Lance whispered hoarsely.

“You shhhh!” said Hunk from the ground.

The pair continued their shushing game until the noise of a door opening cut through the air. They hurriedly ducked behind the corner, Hunk managing to dislodge the trash can, and leaned their heads into the next corridor. It was Pidge. Much like them, he was in his civvy clothes — cargo shorts and a green-and-white layered hoodie — though unlike them, he carried an oversized backpack on his shoulders. After ensuring his dorm room was locked, he quickly disappeared down the hall.

“Where is he going?” Lance muttered.

A faint squeak rang out as Pidge peeked around the door. Seeing no one, he hurried to his usual spot near the edge of the highest roof on Garrison headquarters, slung his backpack around, and began setting up. He mumbled to himself as he went, going over calculations and other such details. In less than a minute — a personal record — he was done. With a deep breath, he sat criss-cross, grabbed his headphones, and put them on—

“You come up here to rock out?”

Pidge shrieked and flailed as he twisted around, nearly knocking over his equipment and dropping his headphones.

“Oh. Lance,” he said in a squeaky voice, fixing his half-on glasses. His eyes darted to his tech before he haphazardly leaned over it with faux nonchalance. “What, uh—wh-what are you doing up here?”

“Seein’ what you’re doin’,” replied Lance smoothly. He leaned back and forth, trying to catch a better glimpse, but Pidge kept using his body as a shield.

“Wh-Who, me?” he stuttered. “N—I was just, um… looking at stars.”

‘Please go away, please go away, please go away,’ Pidge thought as he grinned as wide as he could. ‘It’s not a total lie, stars are involved, so hopefully he’ll believe me and—’

“Whoa, where’d you get this stuff?”

Pidge whipped his head around to see Hunk crouched next to the small radar dish, poking it and musing.

“It doesn’t look like Garrison tech.”

Reflexively, he smacked the offending hand away, only to realize how suspicious that looked. “Oh, it’s nothing, just, ah—just some stuff I built for, uh, stargazing, is all. Yeah.”

“You built all this?” The hand reappeared, reaching for the laptop this time.

Snatching it away, Pidge snarled, “Second warning, Hunk.”

In holding it aside, however, Lance was finally able to get a look at the screen. The image it displayed was decidedly not simple constellation charts or even zodiac stuff, but complex equations, with a recording app in the corner and a live model of the edge of the solar system tapped from the Garrison’s satellites. A target lock was on one of Pluto’s moons.

“Whoa, wait, is that Kerberos?” he gaped, grabbing the side of the computer as he leaned closer.

“Hey—” Pidge jerked the laptop back, giving Hunk a chance to do the same.

“Hey, you’re right! Is this what the radar’s for?” His head was practically on Pidge’s shoulder as he again tried to pull it away.

“Guys—” he warned only to get smushed between the two larger teens as they grabbed both sides of the screen and got way too close.

“Why are you watching Kerberos?”

“Is that why so much of this stuff looks illegal?”

“Why are you recording?”

“What are you recording?”

“Are you looking for the Kerberos—”

“STOP TOUCHING MY EQUIPMENT!!!” Pidge screamed, practically chucking the two away.

He plopped back on the ground with a huff, his laptop firmly in hand, while the troublemakers slid up behind him, though at a far more reasonable distance now.

“Sorry,” they said, each fiddling with his fingers and rubbing the back of his head in turn.

“But seriously,” Lance went on, “what’s your deal with Kerberos? You go ballistic every time someone brings it up.”

“None of your business,” Pidge snapped, readjusting his tech.

“Sure it is,” he replied as he slid closer. “We’re a team.”

It had to be the third raised eyebrow Pidge had given him today, though this one was more venomous than the others. “Forced proximity does not make us a team.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the board saying ‘Team Gamma’ next to all of our names does,”Lance retorted, unable to keep his snark at bay.

Seeing the signs of incoming retaliation, Hunk jumped in and said, “We could help. I noticed a few parts of your hardware that could be improved. N-Not that you did a bad job by any means, I-I just…have some ideas, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah!” said Lance, hooking his arm around his friend’s neck. “And since I’m a pilot, I know the solar system like the back of my hand. If you need to find something out there, I’m your guy.”

They ended their pitch with huge (and hopefully convincing) smiles.

Pidge opened his mouth, then closed it again, staring at the two in surprise. He looked over his equipment with searching eyes, as if wanting it to give him the right answer. He’d been up here so many times, always alone. Talking to someone about this stuff… it couldn’t hurt, right?

He sighed. “Fine.”

Hunk and Lance whooped as they fist-bumped and eagerly scooted forward. A raised finger from Pidge stopped them.

“But only if you stop touching my stuff.” His tone left no room for argument, so they didn’t give one. Taking a deep breath, he faced them and began. “Okay, this is going to sound insane, but the Kerberos Mission wasn’t lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake.”

“And you know this how?” Lance couldn’t resist asking.

Now Pidge was the one looking sheepish, though it was mixed with pride. “I may or may not have hacked into Colonel Iverson’s personal computer to see the classified satellite photos.”

“You what!?” the other two bellowed in unison.

“That’s even worse than the ideas Lance comes up with!” Hunk cried, gesturing at his friend, who glared at him in response.

“Look, I had to see for myself, okay!? And what I saw in those pictures wasn’t a crashed ship. Everything — the shuttle, the HAB, the rover — it was all exactly where it should’ve been. The only things missing were the crew and this huge line of ice. That’s why I built this stuff. I’ve been coming up here for weeks, scanning the system…” His fists clenched. Moment of truth. “And picking up alien radio chatter.”

Silence fell over the roof.

Pidge gulped.

Hunk went ashen.

Lance flatly asked, “No, really, what’d you find?”

A growl echoed out of Pidge’s throat. “I’m serious. Look.”

He turned back to his computer, the others leaning over his shoulders, and pulled up several pages of garbled letters, the spaces between them looking like bad guesses. Every section was marked as incorrect except for one.

“I phonetically transcribed the recordings using my upgraded speech-to-text program, and one word keeps coming up: Voltron.”

“Voltron?” Hunk squeaked, paler by the second. “W-What is that? Is that a person? A place? What?”

“I don’t know,” said Pidge. “I can’t translate the language, but if they’re willing to kidnap people for it, then it must be something important, like a weapon or—”

“Or maybe you just overheard some guys playing a game in Danish or something,” said Lance.

“You seriously think my tech can’t tell the difference between terrestrial and extraterrestrial signals?”

“Hey, I wanna believe you, but the Garrison—”

“Are the ones who covered this up in the first place!” snapped Pidge. “If it was a language from this planet, my program would have translated it!”

“So it’s deep-space noise. That stuff’s been hitting the planet for decades.”

“I know what radiation sounds like, moron, this isn’t that!”

“Uh, guys?” Hunk tried to interject, but their growing volume was drowning out his voice. “Guys, please, someone’s gonna hear us! Guys, come on, don’t—”

Eeh! Eeh! Eeh!

The noise made him jump and divert his attention to the laptop. His eyes went wide.

“Guys?” he tried again, now waving his arms. “Guys.” They still weren’t listening. “GUYS!”

Pidge and Lance froze mid-sentence, staring in surprise at their friend, who pointed to the setup. “The computer is speaking.”

Now that they were quiet, they could hear a strange, garbled sound coming from the headphones. Their eyes darted to each other for half a second before Pidge dove for his equipment, his hands flying over the buttons, then grabbed the headphones and twisted the earpieces outward. The three crowded close. Though distorted and full of static, there was no denying it: it was an alien language.

“How’s your belief now?” asked Pidge smugly.

Lance couldn’t think of a reply before another sensor started going off, quickly followed by the Garrison alarm system.

“What the—”

“Attention, students: This is not a drill!” The trio started at the sound of Iverson’s voice over the PA system. “We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu-niner! Repeat: All students are to remain in barracks until further notice!”

A deafening BOOM resounded through the air. High above, blindingly bright against the inky darkness, a burning streak of fire pierced the sky.

———————————

Somewhere out in the desert, a young man stood atop a roof of his own, watching the comet. Fast as a flash, he grabbed a satchel, checked inside to make sure everything was secure, and then leapt to the ground as the unknown object set the atmosphere alight.

———————————

“Is that a meteor?” cried Hunk, taking a step back. “A very, very big meteor?”

It certainly looked like one, fiery trail and all, but after what they’d just heard, Pidge wasn’t convinced. Gamma-niner was the protocol for meteor strikes, not Zulu. He grabbed his electronic binoculars and set them to maximum — only for Lance to snatch them away. Karma was swift. The instant he turned them toward the giant, blinding fireball, he shrieked and fell over, clutching his sizzling eyes.

“My face is burning! My face is burning!” he wailed, rolling back and forth.

“Well, you’re an effective guinea pig, at least,” said Pidge flatly, for once glad to have his tech taken. “Thanks for taking one for ‘the team.’”

A second BOOM cut off both Lance’s retort and his whining. With wide eyes, the trio watched the object pass through the final layer of atmosphere and slam into the ground. It was a few miles away, yet the shockwave still rattled their bones. Below, the growing shouts of soldiers sounded as they hurried to load vehicles with men and equipment. While Lance and Hunk peered over the ledge to get a better look, Pidge raced to his station, and in a mere few seconds, his tech vanished into his backpack.

“We gotta find out what that was!” he said breathlessly as he slung the pack over his shoulders and ran to the door.

Lance was right on his heels, saying, “Now you’re speaking my language!”

“B-B-But, he sai—bu…” Hunk trailed off as they vanished down the stairs. He cupped his mouth with his hands. “This is a bad idea!”

“Come on!” came the dual shout.

He let out a low whine but resigned himself to following. “We’re so getting expelled.”

With the bulk of the Garrison’s forces scrambling to secure the perimeter, no one noticed as the three cadets made their way to the garage where the ATVs were being prepped. Lance pointed to one near the front that was being outfitted with a trailer of equipment and, according to protocol, would be at the back of the line. Pidge nodded. Hunk might’ve shaken his head, but they were already moving, so he was, too. They ducked behind a row of ATVs currently not in use and ran out just in time to jump onto the back of the trailer as it headed out, grabbing hold of whatever they could. Thankfully, every soldier in the garage was being sent out while the operators were left behind, constantly relaying new orders in something of a state of panic, so none of them were the wiser.

The convoy gunned it across the bumpy terrain, heedless of the teenagers who nearly went flying a time or two as they made several sharp turns. By some miracle, Lance was able to pull Hunk back before the passenger-side guard spotted him. In short order, multiple floodlights came into view, all pointed toward something — something big. After exchanging a look, they waited for the least rocky patch of ground and leapt off. They rolled to a stop, sprang to their feet, and hurried around to the side of the crash site, ducking behind a small ridge just out of the way.

Slowly, they peeked over. Their souls nearly left their bodies. Down below, smoking, dented, and half-buried in dirt, was a ship; a dark, spear-shaped spaceship, highlights of unearthly violet flickering all over, clinging to life.

“Holy crow,” Lance breathed. “That is not one of ours.”

Pidge grinned in equal parts elation and intrigue. “No. It’s one of theirs.”

“Wait, so there really are aliens?” squeaked Hunk.

Lance dug through Pidge’s backpack and grabbed the binoculars. Although he glowered, the younger teen didn’t protest, instead hooking them up to his laptop so he and Hunk could see, too.

“Whoa, look at that thing.” The view shifted when a female officer approached one of the soldiers. “And look at her~”

Pidge smacked him. “Lance!”

“Ow!”

After shooting a quick glare, he returned to surveying the area. Some of the soldiers were busy putting out the few remaining fires while others were grabbing equipment from the ATVs and briefing the hazmat team. The rest were creating a perimeter.

Lance growled. “Snart, patrols are way too tight. We’ll never get close.”

“Whoa-wai-wha-wha-what?!” said Hunk, straining to keep his voice low. “What do you mean ‘get close’? I never agreed to that! Look, we came, we saw, we should go.”

He started walking away, only to come right back when Pidge called out, “Wait, Lance, lift the binoculars.”

Doing as he was told, the guys spotted it as well: one soldier had grabbed a blowtorch and was beginning to cut through the ship’s hull.

‘Whoever can design a ship like that must be incredibly advanced,’ thought Pidge. ‘I hope they have information on the Kerberos Crew.’

‘I hope they aren’t angry,’ Hunk prayed as he chewed his fingernails. The image of a horrible beast sprang to mind. ‘Or hungry.’

A very different image filled Lance’s mind. ‘I hope she’s good-looking.’

The sound of metal clattering to the ground brought their attention back to the ship. Nearly the entire back of the craft was now missing. Four guards swept their flashlights over the dark interior thoroughly before slowly stepping inside, their guns at the ready.

The trio held their breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the soldiers came back out, carrying something between them. They set it on a cleared patch of dirt and stepped away, allowing the med-techs to swarm it.

“What is it? What is it?” Pidge was bouncing in anticipation.

“I don’t know,” said Lance with a groan, tilting this way and that, trying to get a better angle. “There’s too many people. Wait.”

Sudden motion rippled through the medics as the figure began thrashing, knocking people away. As soldiers attempted to subdue him, Lance zoomed in as far as he could and saw a face that made his heart skip a beat.

“Shirogane… That’s the Takashi Shirogane! Pilot of the Kerberos Mission, Galaxy Garrison golden boy, breaker of the most flying records in Garrison history!”

“Lance, you’re drooling,” deadpanned Pidge.

“Are sure that’s him?” Hunk asked.

It was a fair question. The man’s once-neatly-trimmed hair now reached just past his shoulders, a thick white streak falling in his face. Dense stubble on his jaw and a large scar over his nose further shrouded his appearance, and in place of his astronaut uniform, he wore a skintight suit with a short, loose, shabby shirt over top. His behavior wasn’t like any of them remembered either. He was lashing out at everyone who came near him, and made several attempts to escape.

With eyes the size of dinner plates, Lance rounded on Hunk and said in a low tone, “I have stared at that man’s face every single day, both in real life and in pictures, for the last twelve years. Do not doubt my eyes.”

Leaning back so they wouldn’t kiss on accident, Hunk replied, “Okay, okay. Just wondering.”

“Wait, I think he’s saying something,” said Pidge, gaining his companions’ attention. “Lance, activate the parabolic microphone.”

His face went blank. “The what now?”

Pidge pointedly pushed a button on the top of the binoculars. A small radar dish popped up.

“Oh.”

Lance shook himself out of his light stupor and refocused the sights on the chaotic scene. Voices began filtering through the laptop.

“—me go! Stop!”

“Calm down, Shiro,” a guard ordered as he and a few others managed to get a solid hold on him. “We just need to run some tests to make sure—”

“No! No-no-no, no tests!” shrieked Shiro with renewed panic. “There’s no time! They’re coming!”

As the soldiers strained to keep their grip, a medic approached with a penlight and shone it in the man’s eyes, asking, “Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

Shiro flinched away from the light. “I don’t know, months, years—i-it doesn’t matter, they’re coming! They’ll destroy us! We have to find Voltron!”

“Voltron,” echoed Pidge.

The trio glanced at each other, a million questions swarming in their heads.

———————————

In the darkness far beyond the crash site, hands worked swiftly to place the bottles. He set them exactly fifteen feet apart, and once he was done, he retreated into the shadows.

‘Here goes…everything.’

———————————

“Sir, take a look at this.” A med-tech grabbed Shiro’s arm and held it up. “His right arm has been replaced by a cybernetic prosthetic.”

On his other side, a second medic spoke up, “Sir, his blood pressure is way too high.”

“Put him under until we get back to base. We’ll sort things out there,” said the head officer.

Shiro’s eyes went wide, his breath quickening. “No, no-no-no-no-no-no, do not put he under, there’s no time!”

He began kicking out and bucking wildly, throwing the soldiers off with inhuman strength. As he fought, it almost seemed like the robotic hand lit up for a moment. Out of options, the soldiers swept Shiro’s feet out from under him and pinned him to the ground. The medics ignored his pleas for them to stop and listen as they sank a needle into his neck.

“No, no, no! Ask about the crew!” Unfortunately, Pidge’s words couldn’t stop Shiro’s body from going slack, eyes slipping closed. He could, however, facepalm so hard everyone on the international space station heard it. “Idiots! They should’ve asked him where the rest of the crew is!”

“What the heck are they doing?” said Lance. “That guy’s a legend, they’re not even going to listen to him?”

“We have to get him out of there.”

“Definitely. We just need to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Hunk, using his body to separate the two. “Okay, I’m sorry, I hate to be the voice of reason, as always, but weren’t we hiding up here with suped-up opera glasses because there was absolutely no way to get anywhere near” — he waved his hands at the quarantined area — “this whole situation?”

Lance held up a finger in a matter-of-fact way and replied, “That was before we were properly motivated. We just gotta think.” He paused for several seconds. “…We could tunnel in.”

“With what, this mini satellite dish?” Hunk held it up for emphasis.

“We could snag some hazmat suits and sneak in like med-techs,” said Pidge.

“You mean the hazmat suits that are behind the impenetrable perimeter of guards?” Hunk looked like was on the verge of an aneurysm. With great effort, he took a deep, steadying breath. “Look, I know you two have your hearts set on this, but I really think the best thing for us to do is head back to the Garrison, grab a late-night snack, maybe some of those nice little peanut butter cookies with the chocolate drizzle on top — oh, man, I really want one now — and then get back to our dorms.”

“What, do you need some warm milk, too?” said Lance flatly.

“You’re saying we should leave him and run away?” Pidge snapped with a vicious glare. “Let him get thrown into an asylum?”

“Yeah, dude, we gotta do something.”

“And I want to,” said Hunk, “but unless you’ve got an invisibility cloak or one heck of a distraction in that big ol’ backpack, there is no way in a million years that we are ever—”

———————————

Hidden safely in the shadows, a cellphone screen lit up. Five numbers were dialed; five phones, scattered around the sand, rang in unison. The bottles they were attached to began bubbling and shaking, an electric current exciting their chemical mixture.

———————————

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!!!

The cadets jumped out of their skins and screamed. A few miles away, five giant fireballs lit up the desert like it was the Fourth of July. All over the crash site, shouts sounded as the soldiers scrambled to organize themselves.

“Is that the aliens!?” Hunk wailed, covering his head and ducking behind their cover. “I—ah—i-is that the aliens!? They got here so fast!”

“Who cares? This is our chance!” Pidge yelled as he pointed to the soldiers, the majority of whom were loading into the ATVs and heading out to investigate the explosions, leaving only a skeleton crew behind.

Before the others could say anything, their teammate was already stuffing his tech into his backpack and running toward the crash site. Lance was hot on his heels, the two sliding down the short hill and making it about halfway beyond it before getting yanked back by their hoods.

Hunk dug in his heels and cried, “Guys, please, this is insane, can’t we—” A high-pitched whirring sound cut through the air. “What’s that?”

The trio looked to the other side of the ship and saw something speeding toward them, its neon parts shining like odd stars against the black desert. What could be described only as a hoverbike raced to the edge of the site, then jarred to a halt. The momentum sent its rider soaring into the air. The stranger came down right on top of one of the guards with a flying kick, then grabbed the man’s rifle as it slipped from his hand and threw it into the next soldier, knocking him out as well. With furious yells, the other two guards rushed the attacker, but were swiftly pummeled by a barrage of strikes before being kicked into the side the of crashed ship and crumpling. In the burning light of the fires, the young man straightened and set his sights on the med-techs, his eyes narrowing. It wasn’t even a fight. Within seconds, they lay scattered on the ground next to their bodyguards.

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge gaped. Then something caught the former’s eye. Grabbing the binoculars again, he zoomed in on the stranger, who was making sure the rest of the troops were still occupied, and spotted a mess of long black hair.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Lance. “Oh, he is so not going to beat me to him. That guy is always trying to one-up me.”

Catching the tossed binoculars, Hunk called to his friend as he started running again, “Who is it?”

“Keith!”

“Wait, are you sure?” he asked, also taking off.

“Oh, I’d recognize that mullet anywhere!”

Pidge looked completely lost for a moment before his face lit up with recognition. He hurried after the other two, shouting, “Hold up, you mean that Keith?”

Keith surveyed the crash site in a split-second: the smoldering wreck of the ship; the fires raging around it; and the dark figure lying on the ground. The pilot. Wary of potential injuries, he rushed to the man’s side and turned him over.

His breath hitched.

With a shaky hand, Keith pulled down the bandana covering his face and whispered, “Shiro?”

But how? How was this possible? He was supposed to be—

Anger surged, and he gritted his teeth. ‘Those lying snart bags!’

A wheezing moan from Shiro returned him to the present. Payback could come later; right now he needed to get his friend somewhere safe. He eased the man’s arm over his shoulder and carefully stood.

“Nope!”

Keith instantly drew his knife and moved into a defensive stance, only to become confused when he saw a lanky, brown-skinned teen stomping toward him.

“No you—nope, no-no-no-no-no, no you don’t, I’m saving Shiro!” the stranger went on, grabbing the man’s other arm and putting it around his own shoulder.

Keith raised an eyebrow, weakly trailing the guy with his knife before sheathing it in favor of keeping hold of Shiro. Noting the other two teens as they neared, he asked, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” repeated the first boy offendedly. “Uh, the name’s Lance.” He blinked. Keith blinked back. “We were in the same class at the Garrison?”

“Really?” Keith replied, trying to remember his classmates. “Are you, uh, an engineer?”

“No, I’m a pilot,” said Lance, his face shifting into a scowl. “We were, like, rivals, you know, ‘Lance and Keith, neck and neck’.”

Rivals? The only rival he’d had was James and—

“Oh, wait, I remember you. You’re a cargo pilot.”

Yeah, it was coming back to him now. He was that loud kid who constantly followed Keith around, insisting he was going to take the top spot. It hadn’t happened.

Apparently, Lance didn’t like being reminded of his title, evidenced by his scowl deepening as he hotly replied, “Well, not anymore. I’m fighter class now thanks to you washing out. And like I said, if anyone’s saving Shiro, it’s me.”

He yanked on the man’s arm in an attempt to pull him away. Keith yanked right back, almost sending Lance to the ground.

“I don’t have time for this,” Keith cooly said and began walking Shiro to his bike.

Readjusting his grip, Lance dug in his heels, stopping them, and retorted, “Well, I don’t have time for you. Shiro’s coming with me.”

Something dark entered the young man’s expression as he stepped closer. “Back. Off.”

Lance took his own step closer. “Make me, Mullet.”

The two stared each other down, their noses mere inches apart.

“Uh, fellas?” Hunk’s voice made them turn to see him staring at the horizon with the binoculars. “Hate to interrupt, but those guys are coming back and they do not look happy.” He began running in place and chanting, “What do we do? What do we do?”

“Okay, umm,” Lance began, looking around uncertainly, “we can grab an ATV.”

“And go where?” Pidge asked.

“We can head back to my place.”

“You mean one of the first places they’ll look for us?”

“Fine, then, where do you think we should go, Master Strategist Pidge!?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking, Master Airhead Lance!”

“They’re getting closer!” said Hunk.

Their voices were like nails on a chalkboard to Keith’s ears, making his mind spin much too fast. Different scenarios played through his head, each ending in someone getting captured — except for one. Glancing once more between the panicking group, the rapidly approaching vehicles, and Shiro, he groaned.

He put his fingers to his lips and gave sharp whistle, silencing the bickering. “Everyone on the bike, now!”

Not wasting another second, he began pulling his friend along.

“Oh, thank you!” Hunk cried.

He and Pidge eagerly ran ahead, but Lance merely dug in his heels again. “Hey, you don’t get to give me orders!”

“You’d rather stay here and get court-martialed?” snapped Keith, nearly at the end of his patience.

“Oh, please, they can’t court-martial a minor.” He paused. “Can they?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Just move.”

Thankfully, Lance complied, albeit mumbling something in Spanish under his breath, and the four clambered onto the red-and-white hovercycle (which looked closer to an oversized drone than a bike). Passing Shiro’s lifeless body between them like a ragdoll, they got themselves situated. Once they did, however, the bike pitched backward, landing heavily as the group yelped.

“Is this thing gonna be big enough for all of us?” asked Pidge.

“No,” said Keith from the driver’s seat. Redistributing the weight would’ve been the best option, but there was no time; headlights had already honed in on them.

He revved the bike, and with a powerful whir, the engine roared to life, lifting the it into the air. He pivoted around and gunned it into the night. As they sped away, the others took a moment to better seat themselves. Ensuring he had a solid hold on Shiro, Lance glanced behind them and saw the ATVs gaining.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” he yelled.

Keith replied, “We could toss out some nonessential weight.”

“Oh, right.” Lance looked around for a few seconds before his expression fell. “Okay, so that was an insult, I get it—”

“Big man, lean left,” called Keith suddenly.

Too panicked to argue, Hunk did so, sending the bike swerving up a small butte. When the Garrison cars tried to do the same, two of them snagged their tires on the uneven ground and went tumbling.

“I’m so sorry!” Hunk hollered. “This wan’t my idea!”

“Big man, lean right!” came the second order.

He really wished he hadn’t listened. The bike soared off the cliff and across a ravine to another one below, everyone but Keith screaming as they fell. Nothing if not determined, the Garrison drivers followed. Only one managed to stick the landing and stay on the teens’ tail as they drifted around the curved ledge.

Before the others could catch their breath, Hunk pointed ahead of them and exclaimed, “Guys, tha-t-t-t-t-t, is that a cliff up ahead?!”

Pidge and Lance’s eyes widened. The three began shouting to stop, turn around, find another way, but the bike didn’t slow down. In fact, it sped up, and Keith couldn’t help smiling just a little.

“Yup.”

The hoverbike launched off the butte. A trio of screams pierced the air like lightning.

“What are you doing!? You’re gonna kill us all!” screeched Lance, one hand gripping the small wing with every ounce of strength he had.

“Shut up and trust me!” Keith yelled.

The other three squeezed their eyes closed, preparing for the end as the ground sped toward them. Then, exactly a dozen feet before hitting stone, Keith sent a burst of power to the repulsers. With a jolt, the hoverbike’s momentum shifted, sending them speeding forward and out into the desert.

Up on the edge of the cliff, the final ATV’s driver watched them shrink into a spec and vanish. Activating his car radio, he said, “Salvage Three to Garrison: Target escaped.”

“Copy, salvage three,” replied the stern voice on the other end. “Return to base and regroup. They’re not getting away.”

———————————

An hour later, Keith slowed his bike and let it set gently on the ground of a wide, rocky plain, its only feature a tiny, ramshackle house. He then twisted around, asking, “Everyone alright?”

They couldn’t answer even if they wanted to. All of their faces were ashen, eyes the size of basketballs as they stared at nothing and trembled violently. Pidge and Lance had Shiro sandwiched between them, though he was none the wiser, his head flopping backward as he snored. With a horrible gurgling sound, Hunk’s green cheeks puffed up to match the size of his eyes just before he slid off the bike and collapsed.

Keith blinked. ‘It wasn’t that bad…was it?’

He stared for a moment longer, then shrugged with a sigh and dismounted.

“Okay,” he grunted as he pried the stiff arms from around Shiro, “hug time’s over.”

The movement jarring them from their stupor, Lance and Pidge shook their heads clear and looked around, the former quickly spotting his rival carrying his hero away toward the dilapidated shack.

“Hey, hold up!” he yelled, running after them while Pidge helped Hunk to his feet, the pair toddling behind the others.

With a weathered creak, the door swung open, and the trio of cadets looked around the single room curiously as Keith lit an old lantern, deepening the shadows of the cracks in the corners of the walls. The building was barely big enough to fit all five of them, though that was partially due to the cardboard boxes and assorted equipment cluttering the edges of the floor. A thin couch resting against the far wall beneath a large,  sheet-covered window was the only soft surface to be seen, and thus was where Keith laid Shiro.

“What is this place?” asked Hunk, curiosity replacing nausea. “Looks like it was built back during the war.”

“A safe house.” Keith draped a blanket over his friend, then briefly turned to the others. “Don’t touch anything.”

“‘Don’t touch anything,’” mumbled Lance in a dopey voice. He walked over to the stack of what looked like radios in the corner and went to touch it.

“What did I say?”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned with an exaggerated eye roll and headed to slump against the wall next to Pidge, who’d claimed the desk chair in the opposite corner.

Keith watched him with a scrutinizing glare to make sure he didn’t try anything else. Satisfied when Lance kept to himself, he let out a strained breath and returned his attention to the figure on the couch.

“How’d we end up in this one, Shiro?” he murmured. Silence answered him.

Adjusting the blanket, he caught part of the others’ conversation as Hunk sat heavily on the floor at the end of the couch and said, “Man, am I glad that’s over.”

“Tell me about it,” replied Lance with a yawn. “I seriously need some Z’s.”

“Well, you’ll have to get them somewhere else.” The trio looked at Keith in surprise as he stood. “There’s an old service road a few miles away that leads to the Garrison. If you’re fast, you’ll be back in your dorms before anyone notices you’re gone.”

Pidge immediately jumped out of the chair. “No way! I’m not leaving until I find out what happened to the Kerberos Crew!” He glared up at the older boy, his fist shaking slightly. “I have to know.”

Keith’s gaze narrowed, but as he looked over the kid, he got a strange sense of recognition. ‘Wait, isn’t “Pidge” the nickname of—’

The piercing voice of Lance broke his train of thought as he stomped over. “Yeah, exactly. Plus, we nearly died in that crazy cliff stunt of yours, so you don’t get to tell us to beat it.”

“I do when the delay of saving your butts is what made that jump necessary,” said Keith, crossing his arms. “Now, thanks to you, the Garrison saw which way we went, and they’ll be able to find us ten times faster.”

“Yeah, well—you…” Lance fumbled for a few seconds before blurting out, “Those explosions you caused were way too big!”

Keith looked flatly from the pointed finger in his face to its owner. “The diversion was too big?”

The younger boy made a choking-like noise. “You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t. That makes no sense.”

Hunk quickly put his arms between the two, cutting off his friend’s retort, and tiredly said, “Guys, this is, like, the third argument today, can we please not?” He turned to Keith. “Look, I’m really sorry we crashed in like this—”

“I’m not,” Lance cut in.

“—but the Garrison would’ve done a headcount when they put everything on lockdown. Chances are, they already know we’re gone.”

“Plus, the guys in the cars could’ve spotted us,” added Pidge.

Lance crossed his arms with a smug expression. “Face it, you’re stuck with us, Mullet.”

As much as Keith wanted to argue, he couldn’t. If he sent the three away, they would undoubtedly get caught one way or another, and Heaven only knew what kind of punishment would be waiting for them. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“Fine. But you’ll have to use the floor. I don’t have any sleeping bags.”

The three smiled victoriously, Hunk and Lance sharing a high-five while Keith shook his head.

“Mmmhh…”

Silence took the room. In unison, the four looked to the couch where Shiro was stirring. Keith was instantly by his side with a hand on his shoulder, the others close behind.

Grey eyes slowly cracked open. Shiro’s vision swam as he looked around, the dim light casting long shadows everywhere. Turning over ever so slightly, he spotted the figures looming over him. Looming…watching…

Faces shrouded in darkness, their unblinking, glowing eyes glued to him. Clawed hands reached out to grab him, change him, hurt him! No, no, no, he had to get away, he had to! He had to run!

“Shiro!”

He froze. It took several blinks to clear away the horrible images, but once they were gone, Shiro saw him. He saw Keith, holding out his hands as if not sure what to do with them, his face twisted in rare confusion and worry.

Not daring to look away for even a second, the young man quietly told the others, “Back up. Give him some space.”

Lance moved forward. “But—”

“Now.”

The growl in Keith’s voice left no room for argument. Begrudgingly, he backed away, standing next to his tense teammates.

Taking a deep breath, Keith examined the man in front of him. He was trembling like a leaf, pressing himself into the back of the couch so hard its metal frame creaked with every subtle shift. Every visible patch of skin shone with sweat, and he sucked each shallow breath through clenched teeth. But it was the part that wasn’t skin which was the most troubling. Dark, unstable energy pulsed down Shiro’s cybernetic arm, wrapping around its clawed hand like a weapon — a weapon currently pointed at Keith.

Wrong. This was all so wrong. Was this really the same man he knew?

‘Get a hold of yourself,’ a voice in his head scolded. ‘If the roles were reversed, he would do everything in his power to help you. And he has.’

Ensuring he was as nonthreatening as possible, he spoke slowly and calmly, “Shiro, I know you’re probably confused, but I promise you’re safe—”

“Not real…”

His stomach bottomed out.

“You’re not real,” Shiro repeated, anger and fear warring in his eyes. “You can’t trick me this time. I know. You’re. Not. Him.”

Dark bangs covered Keith’s face as he let his head and arms fall. A hush filled the shack. No one dared to move.

His head snapped up. “Who else would I be? Lara Croft?”

A collective “Eh?” resounded from the trio behind him.

Shiro was also quite confused, but it only lasted a moment. The light of his hand faded as the clawed limb slowly went slack, revealing a face practically melting in relief.

“…Keith?”

It was the faintest whisper, yet it felt like the greatest gift in the world. “Yeah. It’s me. You’re home.”

There was the slightest hesitation, then the man threw himself at his friend, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs. Though surprised at first, Keith returned the hug just as fervently, the two burying their faces into one another’s shoulders, as if afraid the other would disappear if they let go. Pidge watched them with a sad smile while Hunk let out a loud sniff, tears pouring onto the floor. Off to the side, Lance looked on with an envious eye. Of course he was happy to see Shiro alive and returned to his senses, it just should’ve been him who did it, not the desert hobo.

Likely alerted by the sniffling, Shiro lifted his head and noticed the awkwardly staring audience. A small grin appeared. “Wait, Keith, did you finally make some friends?”

Rolling his eyes as he pulled away and sat on the edge of the makeshift table, the young man replied, “More like I picked up some hitchhikers.”

“Hitchhikers?” Lance repeated. “We got there first!”

“Hang on a second,” said Shiro, scrutinizing the trio. “Weren’t two of you in the same class as Keith?”

His face lighting up, Lance rushed forward and began enthusiastically shaking Shiro’s hand. “Yes, sir! The name’s Lance, sir, Lance McClain, ace pilot extraordinaire! It’s a huge honor to meet you, sir!”

“Uh, thanks,” he replied, then added sheepishly, “You can dial it back on the ‘sir’s.”

Lance leaned over to Keith. “See? He remembers me.”

“So?”

A vein bulged in his forehead as he glowered.

Shiro watched them with a bemused expression until Hunk approached, holding out his hand far more timidly.

“Um, hi. Hi, I-I’m, uh, Hunk Garret, an engineer,” he stuttered. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous, y-you just—you’re the first person to ace the Noyatashi Haru test in your second year, sir.”

“Good to meet you, too, cadet. And you are…?” Shiro trailed off as the smallest of the group stepped forward. Short, spiky auburn hair, large caramel eyes, and a pair of round, oversized glasses. “You’re—”

“Pidge,” he quickly said, then cleared his throat. “My name is Pidge Gunderson, I’m a com-spec. We’re a…team.” He gestured to the other two before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Supposedly.”

Shiro glanced at Keith, who shrugged. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, Captain.”

He gave a small start at the title, as if only just remembering it was his.

Pidge stared at the floor for a beat. “I…I have to know…” When he lifted his eyes, there was a quiet desperation in them. “What happened to your crew?”

“My…crew…?”

Images sprang into Shiro’s mind: dark hallways and towering figures dragging him and the Holts along, heedless of their captives’ cries; countless echoes and whispers from everywhere and nowhere, begging for a mercy they would never find. The man clutched his aching head, Keith’s voice calling his name sounding far away.

“W-We were captured,” he choked out. “There were others, too. So many others, all screaming, all in pain.” A tiny whimper squeezed through his throat, the bags under his eyes growing darker. “…It was so loud.”

“Who captured you?” Lance asked quietly.

Shiro’s breathing started speeding up again; more and more memories stabbed into him. A weight on his back — Keith’s hand, part of his brain supplied — grounded him enough to steady his heart. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally managed to say it.

“Galra. They call themselves the Galra Empire.”

The name hung in the air like smoke, and lingered in Keith’s mind just the same. If the very sound of it wasn’t enough to leave a foul taste in the group’s mouth, Shiro’s condition certainly was.

After several seconds, Pidge leaned forward. “Where is your crew now?”

The captain shook his head and shut his eyes. “I…I don’t know. I don’t even know how I got out of there.”

“Your team is in enemy hands, Shiro,” Pidge pressed, his fists clenching. “You need to do better than ‘I don’t know’.”

“I—I can’t—”

Another pained groan slipped from the man’s mouth, making Keith’s eyes narrow. He held out a hand as he stood. “That’s enough, Pidge. He needs some time.”

“We don’t have time. We need to find out where the Holts are now.”

“What we need to do is let Shiro rest, now back off.” His gaze hardened in silent warning.

“By the time he’s ‘rested’ it’ll be too late!” Pidge practically screamed. “Now tell me where they are!”

“Pidge—” Hunk reached for him.

“I-I-I’m sorry—” Shiro stammered, his face twisted with a flood of emotions.

“Dude—” tried Lance.

“Where is my—!”

“ENOUGH!” At once, the room fell silent. Keith’s expression was murderous, and his low voice promised worse as he growled, “One more word and I’m locking you outside.”

Pidge stiffened under his harsh glare.

“Hey, you can’t do that to my friend!” said Lance, only to flinch a little when Keith turned that dark glower on him.

“My house, my rules. And that goes for all of you. The next person to open their mouth is spending the night on the porch, got it?”

The two clearly wanted to protest, if their grinding teeth were anything to go by. Before they could, Hunk walked up behind them and put his arms around their shoulders.

“We understand,” he said.

His friends stared at him like he’d lost his mind, but then noticed his solemn gaze and followed it to Shiro. The poor guy was curled in on himself, trembling as he covered his ears and mumbled incoherently. Understanding filled the teenagers and they looked away guiltily. Silently thanking Hunk for his intervention, Keith’s vision wandered between the three disheartened cadets and the haggard man on his couch.

Pinching the bridge of his nose again, he took a deep, deep breath, his tone softening. “It’s been a long night. Get some sleep. I’ll help Shiro get cleaned up.”

No longer having the energy to debate, the trio gave assorted forms of agreement. After grabbing a set of clothes from one of the many boxes, Keith crouched next to Shiro and placed his hand on his back. He gave a bit of a start, then realized who it was and calmed enough for his friend to lead him into the only other room in the shack, Lance eyeing them until they disappeared through the side door.

Under the dim light of a small wall-mounted lantern, Keith got to work cutting Shiro’s hair and stubble. To his relief, the man didn’t panic when he brought out the razor, scissors, or buzzer. Their noises were the only sounds to break the quiet. Several minutes trickled by before Shiro, too lost in his head to notice the long locks falling away, felt a pat on his shoulder. He lifted his head and gasped. Staring back in the mirror was him — the real him; clean-shaven, undercut and all, even if the bang tuft was white now. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, though he wiped them away before they could fall.

A smile pulled at his lips as he looked at his friend’s reflection and whispered, “Thank you, Keith.”

Returning the smile as best he could, the young man gave Shiro’s shoulder a light squeeze, then retrieved the neatly-folded bundle he’d set nearby. Upon taking them, Shiro’s eyes widened. It was the outfit he’d worn every time they went for runs or parkoured their way across the city — one of his favorites. The black pants and vest, and even the grey undershirt, still carried the scent of his grandfather’s tea.

His expression fell again. “How long was I gone?”

Keith had known the question would come eventually, but that didn’t make him any more prepared to answer it. His tongue felt like iron as he replied, “Thirteen months, two weeks, five days.”

A faint hitch of breath echoed in the small room, followed by a huff of a laugh. “Of course you’ve been counting.”

The two shared one more sad smile, then Keith returned to the main room to give Shiro some privacy to change. He stretched and rubbed his sore neck, eliciting a pop, then paused upon seeing his sleeping guests. Lance had claimed the couch, Hunk was sprawled on the floor (both of them snoring like jackhammers), and Pidge had curled up in the desk chair, still sporting a sour expression, clutching his backpack like a stuffed animal.

Keith ran a hand down his face. ‘How did this happen?’

Deciding it was a question for another day, he gently closed the door and turned to the column of radios in the corner next to him. His hands moved over the buttons and knobs with practiced ease, keeping the volume low. Static cleared into familiar voices.

“…followed the trail a few miles west, but there’s nothing out here,” said Iverson, sounding like he was in a fouler mood than usual. “How the snart did we get punked by a bunch of kids?” He paused, likely to take a breath. “What are your orders, General?”

The line was silent for a moment before General Sanda replied, “I’m authorizing the deployment of helicopters and fighter jets for an aerial sweep into sectors ten through thirteen. There are only so many rocks in the desert. We’ll find them.”

Keith shut off the radio. She was right. Sooner or later, the Garrison would find this place. There would be nowhere left to run — not unless they ran now. He grabbed his duffel bag.

———————————

‘Breathe in…breathe out…’

Far beyond the Milky Way, a large man, clad in simple yet regal armor, sat on his knees in a dark room, waiting.

‘Steady as a drum…’

A silver figure shifted behind a column. It wasn’t alone.

‘Channel the ebb and flow of energy. Move only when needed…’

The tiniest creak rang out. One of the man’s large ears twitched.

Six sentry bots leapt from their hiding places, their guns and swords aimed at him. Suddenly he was standing, his body twisted as if he’d thrown something. All was silent, then the robots dropped to the floor, sliced to pieces in a single strike. The man straightened and casually observed the carnage, his gaze settling on a severed head.

‘Shame,’ he thought. ‘I was hoping for more. Though, in fairness…’

He raised his cybernetic arm, flexing the clawed fingers, then clenched his fist. Dark energy rippled over the black metal. The man smiled.

“General Sendak.” His eye followed his ear to a corner of the ceiling. “Apologies for interrupting your meditation, but you’re needed on the bridge.”

In short order, Sendak reached the command deck, his second-in-command saluting as he entered.

“Report,” he said.

“We’ve tracked the escape pod here.” Colonel Haxus pointed to the main screen, which depicted a solar system; a planet highlighted. “From our intel, it’s the prisoner’s homeworld. We’ll be there shortly.”

Sendak’s fanged smile returned as he lifted his arm. “Excellent. I’ve been waiting for a chance to test the Champion’s mettle personally.”

———————————

Soft rays of first dawn shone over the horizon, painting the sky with gentle blue and gold in the promise of a beautiful day. Distant calls of birds, lizards, and insects filled the air as the desert slowly awoke. Shiro breathed deeply as he took it all in, the cool breeze sending goosebumps over his newly-shaven head and face. It felt foreign but good, and gloriously light. The same couldn’t be said for his arm.

It glinted dangerously in the pale morning glow. Shiro hesitantly flexed each wickedly clawed finger, listening to the tiny whirs of machinery within, then clenched his fist. Dark energy crackled over the alien metal. He clutched the limb with his other hand; a shudder ran through it and into him.

‘No, don’t think about it,’ he mentally ordered, squeezing his eyes shut and shunting the memories back. ‘You’re on Earth. You got away. Just breathe.’

But try as he might, his heart refused to slow, until a familiar hand settled on his shoulder. Understanding and concern were evident on Keith’s face, silently asking if he was okay. Finally steadying his breaths, Shiro folded his arms and offered a faint smile.

His friend returned it with a small nod and said quietly, “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Shiro replied, wrapping his human arm around Keith’s shoulders. ‘More than you know.’

The two stayed there for a minute longer, watching the gold sky turn light amber, then Keith ushered Shiro inside to get some rest. He opened the door as quietly as he could to not wake the others. They, however, were not only awake but crowded around the corkboard and currently lifting part of the sheet off of it.

“I said don’t touch anything!” Keith snapped, startling the three.

Recovering the quickest, Lance gestured to the papers covering the board and asked, “Dude, what is all this?”

“None of your business.” Keith marched forward, putting himself between the him and the board.

“Wow. Déjà vu,” muttered Hunk.

“Welcome to my world,” Pidge said flatly.

“You’re an accomplice,” said Keith. “You don’t get to say that.”

While Lance and Pidge launched into more questions, he repeated they didn’t need to know, and Hunk did his best to keep things from escalating, Shiro wandered over to the board. Sticky-notes were scattered over various photos and charcoal impressions. One of them nearly made his heart stop.

“That’s it.” The others hushed themselves and turned to Shiro. “That’s it, that’s what they’re after!”

Lance leaned over to see where he was looking. “What, the lion?”

“Yes!” Shiro was almost excited as he finally broke eye contact with the picture. “It’s Voltron.”

A dull shiver went up Keith’s spine.

“Voltron?” said Pidge. “That’s the word the Galra kept repeating. That’s really it?”

“Yeah, o-or at least it has something to do with it. I think it’s some kind of weapon — the Galra have been searching for it for years.” Shiro pressed a hand to his temple. “There was something else about it, too, something specific.”

Keith almost didn’t want to guess. “Was it the ‘Blue Lion’?”

His friend’s head snapped up. “Yes, exactly! Wait, how’d you know?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on him, making him shift nervously.

“Yeah, you seem to know a lot about this stuff,” said Lance skeptically. “Spill it, Mullet.”

Keith glared, half of him wanting to deck the guy and the other half wanting to ask what his deal was with his hair.

Shiro’s voice returned his attention. “Keith, please. This is important.”

Though a part of him argued not to, with a heavy sigh, the young man pulled the sheet the rest of the way off. The corkboard had been converted into a conspiracy board, complete with star charts, reference pictures, and multi-colored strings connecting everything to a map in the center, one area having been circled multiple times in black marker with the words ‘ENERGY SOURCE’ scrawled next to it.

“Jeez, and I thought Pidge was the conspiracy theorist,” said Lance, earning him a smack.

Ignoring them, Keith began. “A couple weeks after coming out here, I started picking up this weird energy signature from somewhere further out in the desert. After a while, I stumbled across this area.” He pointed to the circled section, then moved to the surrounding pictures. “It’s an outcropping of caves covered in these ancient carvings that tell the story of a Blue Lion descending from the heavens and bringing water to the land. Each version is slightly different, but they all shared clues pointing to some event, some arrival happening, so I prepared.”

“Yeah, we caught that,” Hunk spoke up. “It was terrifying, by the way.”

“Hang on,” said Pidge as he came forward, “I’ve been scanning around a hundred different energy frequencies for ages. How come I never picked up the signal? What system are you using?”

Keith looked away, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “It’s not a system. It’s…me.”

The group blinked at him.

Lance’s eyebrow met his hairline. “Uhh, you wanna swing that by me again?”

“Look, I know how it sounds, but it feels like this thing, this energy, has been telling me to search. Like it wants me to find it.” Keith’s gaze wandered to a carving of the Lion’s face. Its eyes seemed to stare back at him.

A sharp laugh broke him from his thoughts. “Oh man, at first I thought you were just weird, but you’re a total psycho desert hobo, huh?” Lance deepened his voice and wiggled his fingers mockingly. “‘The energy calls to me’. Pfft, yeah right.”

Hunk slowly said, “Yeah, I mean, no offense, but that does kinda seem—”

“Completely and utterly ridiculous,” finished Pidge. “Also, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a desert. So much for ‘bringing water’.”

With a terse growl, Keith crossed his arms and turned away.

“Can you take us there?” Surprise rippled through the group at Shiro’s question.

“Wait, you’re not saying you believe him, are you?” said Lance.

“Trust me, I’ve seen weirder,” the man replied. His gaze became distant for a moment before he shook it off and refocused on the present. “So how ‘bout it, bud? You think you can use this feeling of yours to hone in on the Lion?”

The gratitude for Shiro’s belief was swiftly replaced by uncertainty, and Keith paused to think. He glanced from the trio to the board, then settled back on his friend. He braced himself.

“Maybe. But we can’t. We’re leaving.” Pointedly ignoring the confused looks sent his way, Keith grabbed the packed duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “The Garrison’s not going to stop until they find us, so it’s time we went our separate ways. I can drop you three off near town. You can head home and tell them you spent the night there while we—”

“WHAT!?”

There’s the blowback he was waiting for.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone!” cried Lance as he waved his arms around. “There is no way you’re kidnapping Shiro and running off to hide in some hole somewhere!” ‘And taking credit for his rescue,’ he added mentally.

“I’m not leaving until I get answers,” said Pidge vehemently.

“You can’t just drop a bombshell like this and walk away,” Hunk spoke up.

Even Shiro protested. “They’re right. Whatever this Voltron is, it’s powerful, and if the Galra get their hands on it—”

“And how do you suggest we keep it from them?” said Keith. “We don’t even know what this thing is. It could be an evil superweapon for all we know. This isn’t our fight.”

“Maybe not yet, but the transmissions I picked up last night were from just outside the solar system,” Pidge replied. “They’re probably on their way right now.”

“Exactly.” Shiro took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Keith, I realize what we’re risking — what I’m asking you to risk. But there’s too much at stake to turn a blind eye, at least for me.” His gaze softened. “Please. You said this energy is calling to you, right? So maybe this is the path we’re meant to take.”

The young man’s hands tightened around his folded arms. “And if it leads to the Galra?”

Shiro grabbed his wrist to keep it from shaking. “Then at least we’ll be in it together this time.”

It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear, but Keith supposed he should’ve expected as much. Once his friend set his mind to something, nothing on Earth — or beyond, it seemed — could stop him. At least that hadn’t changed.

A long minute passed as Keith mulled over the options before him. Finally, he let out a sharp breath. “If I take you there and you see that there’s nothing we can do, will you leave with me then?”

“I promise,” Shiro replied readily, the others sounding off with their own agreements.

“Alright, then.” He nodded resignedly and led the small group outside just as dawn crested the horizon.

———————————

“Okay, I admit it. This place is super freaky.”

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance as he finished adjusting the bag on his shoulder and joined the group on the edge of a small cliff. With the rising of the sun had come a wonderful warmth as the desert came alive in shades of red and gold. Unfortunately, the journey itself had been less than pleasant as the cadet squad had thought it prudent to constantly ask if they were there yet like a bunch of five-year-olds. It had only gotten worse when Keith had shown his annoyance.

“Are you sure this is the place?” asked Pidge as he looked around.

“Been exploring out here for the better part of a year,” Keith said. “Trust me, I know my way around.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah, trust you to drive off a cliff, maybe.”

Snickers rippled through the group, even from Shiro.

Resisting the urge to whack the loudmouth, Keith flatly replied, “Bold of you to keep insulting the only guy in fifty miles with a vehicle.” He stopped right on the edge of a steep drop-off.

Not caring to wait for a response, he hopped off the ledge and slid to the bottom. Once the others had followed suit (some more haphazardly than others), they trekked into the field of ridges and soon came to an outcropping lined with caves every few feet, turning the cliff-faces into Swiss cheese.

“Wow. You seriously weren’t kidding when you said there were a lot of them.” Hunk nearly made himself dizzy spinning to try to see them all.

“Okay, buddy,” said Shiro, “time to use that sixth sense. Which way?”

Uncertainty bubbled up in Keith’s chest. He’d traced the energy plenty of times before but not quite to this degree of pinpointing. Was he even capable of it? Seeing his friend’s faithful smile, however, he threw those doubts away. Capable or not, he had to at least try. He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. The world faded away; the odd tingling sensation in the back of his mind overcame his senses. In this area, the energy flowed all around, through every crevice and grain of sand on the breeze. But where was it coming from? Maybe if he thought of it like a ripple…

“Ugh, how long is this gonna take?” said Lance loudly. “Seriously, are we just gonna stand around waiting for Mr. Magic Hobo to come up with a fake location or what—”

“That way.”

Blinking in surprise, he and the others followed Keith’s finger to a large alcove in the hill to his left. They jogged over and looked down to see one more cave hidden in the corner.

“Are you sure?” asked Pidge, eyeing the dark cavern skeptically.

The young man nodded firmly. “Positive.”

With him leading the way, the group headed into the cave, all except for Lance, who stayed back for a moment to scoff and mutter, “How convenient.”

Easily catching up with them, he continued to pout until he saw the carvings. They sprawled over every inch of the walls, spilling onto the ceiling, the craftsmanship immaculate. Eyes and mouths hung wide open as the group headed deeper, Keith’s flashlight guiding the way, their heads twisting this way and that to take it all in. However, a mere minute later, they came to the end of the tunnel, marked by a circular pattern.

“That can’t be it,” Shiro muttered.

“Oh, great,” said Lance, “Mullet’s magic is on the fritz. Typical.”

Keith bristled. “I know what I felt. It has to be here.”

“Maybe the tunnel’s hidden,” said Pidge as he poked around.

“Or maybe we need a key or password.” Hunk thought for a moment, then flung his arm out dramatically. “Open sesame!”

A tumbleweed blew by outside.

“Yeah, I got nothing.”

Lance rolled his eyes while the others began discussing what to do. Their chatter becoming background noise, he wandered to the wall and leaned against it. A moment later came a peculiar vwoosh sound. His eyes popped open. Tilting his head back, he saw that the carving behind him was now glowing a bright neon blue. He yelped and stumbled back, his arms flailing to keep his balance.

“What did you do?” asked Pidge as he and the others gathered behind Lance, though it was more curious than accusing.

“N-Nothing!” he replied, gesturing wildly between them and the wall. “I didn’t—I just—I leaned and then—the thing—”

Before their eyes, the glow spread, pouring through every carving until it reached the end of the tunnel. Its swirling pattern pulsed as a deafening rumble filled the cavern, akin to an animal’s roar. It soon ended, causing the five to let out relieved sighs, only for a cracking noise to take its place. What had been a dead end mere moments ago crumbled away to reveal another dark space beyond. The five glanced at each other, then looked inside. Through the hole lay a pit of pitch-black that completely swallowed the glow of the flashlight. However, even if they couldn’t see, they could hear a great rushing, frothing sound down below, and there was a sudden breeze, chilled and damp.

“Must be an underground river,” Keith said, kneeling and peering over the edge of the cavity, trying to spot it. “Probably what made these cave systems.”

Next to him, Lance was staring into the darkness as well, but with a different intensity. A cool tingling filled his chest, and he thought he heard a strange melody begin to play in his head. It wrapped around and pulled at him, beckoning him closer. It was calling to him. Almost in a daze, he stood, his hand tightening on the rough stone edge of the entrance.

Hunk shakily asked, “Uh, Lance? What are you doing?”

A faint jolt rippled through his body before he turned around with his signature playful smirk. “Hey, we’ve come this far, so why not? If there’s water down there, we’ll be fine.”

“Not necessarily,” replied Keith, getting up and stowing his flashlight. “Without knowing the water’s depth, speed, or temperature, not to mention distance and angle, we could easily wind up dead.”

Lance’s grin turned mischievous, and he sneered, “You scared, tough guy?”

“Oh no,” said Shiro flatly.

His concern was validated not a second later by Keith’s face hardening defiantly. For a long moment, the two boys stared each other down, and then, in unison, they turned and leapt through the hole. The others stared after them and soon heard a splash, followed by Lance’s echoing whooping.

“Alright, then,” said Shiro with an uncertain smile. “So, who’s next?”

Backing away, Hunk whimpered, “I-I don’t think I can do this. It’s dark and there’s falling and the water’s probably cold and—”

Shiro grabbed his shoulder gently but firmly. “Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”

The teen stared at him fearfully for a moment, then swallowed and gave a weak nod. Returning to the hole, he sat down on the ledge and lowered himself as much as he could, a leg sticking out, trying to feel the water. Before he could, a bit of the rock he was holding onto broke off, sending him falling with an undignified yelp.

“That just leaves us.”

“But all my stuff will get soaked,” Pidge complained with a slight whine.

“Just hold it front, it’ll be fine,” Shiro replied. “Besides, I find it hard to believe a tech genius wouldn’t water-proof his stuff.”

Though Pidge glared at him, he was hardly angry. “But I’ll get soaked.”

“Come on, sourpuss,” Shiro chuckled, ruffling his hair playfully.

He paused just long enough to take a breath, then jumped after the others. Pidge watched him vanish, quietly debating whether or not to follow.

Seeing no other option, he held his backpack close. “I hate fieldwork.”

A chill ran through his body as he fell through a barrier of mist and into a river. Thankfully, it wasn’t as freezing as they’d all feared, though it was certainly fast. Lance’s cheers rippled through the tunnel, growing louder with every breakneck bend. Behind him, Keith and Shiro kept calm, learning to anticipate the turns, while Pidge and Hunk opted for the route of screaming their heads off.

Luckily, the ride didn’t last long, and soon the slide curved upward, becoming flat. The feeling of weightlessness returned as the water let out into a shallow pool, and they flew forward, sliding to a stop. Keith and Lance were the first out, and they groaned as they sat up, only for shrieking to catch their ears. There was barely a second to panic before Hunk launched out like a whale and landed on top of them with a giant splash, shortly followed by Shiro. Last came Pidge, who was quite confused to find himself sitting neatly atop a mound of moaning bodies (he could’ve sworn he heard a video game achievement sound).

“Get off…” came a wheeze from somewhere in the pile.

One by one, the group detangled, allowing Lance to lift his face from the water he’d been gurgling and breathe. He pushed himself to his knees and leaned back, letting his head flop backward with another groan. Just then, something brushed his cheek. His eyes popped open, finding a tiny orb of light floating through the air. It drifted away, swirling around more specks as it went, all leading to a sight that made Lance gasp.

“Guys,” he breathed, “you really need to see this.”

The others followed his gaze. Sitting in the center of the cavern, surrounded by a massive barrier of cerulean energy, was a giant, robotic Blue Lion. Like bubbles, the orbs bobbed around it, as if dancing to a silent song. A song… Was it the same one Lance was hearing? The soft, lilting sound that had first beckoned him into the tunnel had grown louder and almost joyous, yet it wasn’t all-consuming. It was like ocean waves lapping against the shore, or a river babbling through a forest.

“Whoa.”

Lance gave a start and looked to find the others suddenly next to him. When had he stood up?

“Is this the Voltron?” Pidge asked, his eyes almost as big as his glasses.

“It must be,” replied Shiro.

Seemingly not listening, Keith walked forward, wading through the ankle-high water surrounding the dais on which the Lion sat, until he reached the force field. He placed his palm against it, the rippling energy making his skin tingle as he looked up to the noble beast’s slumbering face.

A smile spread across his face as he whispered, “Incredible.”

Joining him alongside the others, Pidge poked the barrier as well and asked, “How do we get through this?”

“Maybe you just have to knock,” said Lance, tapping his knuckles against it.

Energy surged around his hand, and he yelped in surprise. The tiny orbs filling the air broke from their slow dance and surged toward the Lion, spinning around it faster and faster as the barrier became blindingly bright. As the carvings lit up the entire cavern, the Lion stood, its eyes flashing brilliant gold, and threw its head back, letting out a bellowing roar. At its command, the force field flared out, enveloping the tiny beings before it and overcoming their senses.

From the great void of darkness came five bursts of light.

Lions.

The first was Blue, bounding through great oceans and rivers, a sparkle of mischief in her eye.

Next came the Yellow Lion as he broke down rock and stone, yet he used these pieces to build new mountains.

Through deep forest and jungle leapt the Green Lion, before vanishing to a place only she knew.

Then came a raging fire that consumed everything in its path, and by the Red Lion’s will, he surged into the heavens above where the fifth was waiting.

The Black Lion watched his brethren give form to the worlds below, ever-vigilant as he glided through the aether on wings of star flame.

Their work below completed, the five raced together, spiraling around one another as their lights combined like a supernova. When it faded, a titan stood in their place, a blazing sword in hand to vanquish evil.

All at once, the vision vanished, leaving the five gaping in awe. It took several long seconds for Lance to come out of it with a shake of his head.

“Uh, everyone saw that, right?” he asked, blinking owlishly. “I-I’m not going crazy?”

“If you are, then I am, too,” Pidge replied as he fixed his crooked glasses.

“Not any crazier than Voltron being a huge, awesome titan robot!” Hunk cried.

“So that’s why they want it,” said Shiro, electricity sparking across his fist.

Beside him, Keith simply smiled again, and his grin only grew wider as Blue crouched, lowering her head to the floor. Her mouth opened wide, the middle section of the jaw folding down to create a ramp. Though she’d made no move against them, the group couldn’t help feeling unsure, and they hesitated. As if sensing this, a low, melodic rumble echoed from the Lion like a comforting purr. Sharing a look with the others, Lance grinned and took point as they all stepped inside.

After making his way up the throat (which was a really weird thought he hoped to never think again), Lance came upon a cockpit in the upper head. His eyes wandered over the room only a second before eagerly jumping into the pilot’s seat, which was oddly near the back, and placed his hands behind his head.

“Ho-ho-oh, yeah—” Click “Eh?”

A safety harness with a pentagonal buckle now secured him to the chair. Just as he was wondering how it had done that, the seat abruptly slid forward, eliciting a yelp from him.

‘At least now I know why I needed the seatbelt,’ he thought, straightening.

Blue light filled the cabin, emanating from holographic displays thrumming to life on every console while the others filed in. Once they did, the door behind them sealed shut and the main screen came to life, showing the cave just outside, overlayed with a myriad of familiar-looking data, including a horizon line. Finally, a pair of control sticks rose from the floor. Lance took the hint and grabbed them. Immediately, Blue purred again, but this time it reverberated in his mind and held a far more playful tone.

“Uh, guys, you might wanna hold on to something,” he said.

Pausing in his poking around the consoles, Pidge asked, “What makes you say that?”

The Lion roared twice as loud and ten times as long as before, sending tremors throughout the cavern. All around her, the walls began cracking open, allowing dozens of underground rivers to come crashing in. She raised her head higher, and the water followed, creating a thunderous whirlpool that slammed into the center of the ceiling. When her cry finished, she crouched, haunches wiggling.

“Call it a hunch.”

The second the words left Lance’s mouth, the Blue Lion leaped into the air, the torrent acting as a drill around her. It bored through layer after layer of her ancient prison until, finally, she burst into the sky with a grand geyser. She let the momentum carry her up for a moment, then turned and dove toward the ground. Nimble as the river flowing with her, the Lion raced through the desert canyons, twisting and turning with them wildly. She bounced off of walls and tall rock formations, and ducked under arches.

Screams filled her cabin as the small group grabbed onto whatever they could — including each other — to keep from being flung into a wall. Through the cacophony, Lance could swear he heard Blue laughing. Whether it was at them or in joy of being free, he couldn’t say, but it made him want to laugh, too.

“Isn’t this awesome?!” he yelled.

Apparently not; Hunk lurched forward with a pale green face, begging, “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

“I don’t think I can,” Lance replied, “she’s just going!”

“Yeah, and we’re about to go right into that wall!” Pidge shrieked, pointing out the window.

Sure enough, the end of the ravine was fast approaching, but as the others grew panicked, Lance only grew excited. He could feel it — all of it. Blue’s elation, the spray of the water, the wind in his face  —it filled him with a vigor he hadn’t known was possible, as well as unquenchable determination. He thrust the controls forward, urging her faster. They waited until the last second, then pulled up, launching into the sky once more while the river crashed into the canyon’s end. Blue spun through the air as both Lion and pilot roared in pure joy.

It was a beautiful sound, one that echoed through the stars and signaled to all the universe that Voltron had returned.

———————————

Deep in the farthest reaches of space, a woman knelt in meditation. Dark robes flared around her thin body in an unnatural breeze. Across from her, a towering, broad-shouldered man in sharp armor mirrored her posture. Large crystals floated through the air above and around them while a runic circle pulsed below, providing little light.

Suddenly, from the void came a sound they had nearly forgotten: the resounding roar of a Lion. At once, their eyes opened, one pair a pale gold and the other a sickly violet. Their voices melded together.

“Finally.”

———————————

Haxus’ foot tapped impatiently as he scrolled through the diagnostics list for what had to be the hundredth time. Sendak’s ear twitched with every little thump.

“Calm yourself, Haxus. You act as if we face a hoard of clanmurels rather than a lone rogue,” he said without turning.

“At least clanmurels would be interesting,” the colonel replied, staying his fidgeting limb. “Honestly, wouldn’t a less valuable fleet be more appropriate for retrieving a mere prisoner?”

Sendak raised his lone eyebrow. “He bested the previous Champion on his first day in the ring. No ‘mere prisoner’ is capable of that.”

Turning back to his station with a hum, Haxus thought, ‘Perhaps, but you volunteered us for this mission. If you want to fight the Earthling that badly, just say so.’

A familiar beeping sounded through the air, followed shortly by an officer’s voice. “General, we’re receiving a hail from Central Command.”

“On screen,” said Sendak.

The instant it came through, every man and machine on the bridge placed their fists over their hearts — their people’s form of salute — and kneeled, their heads bowed low. A figure appeared, his form cloaked in shadow save for his piercing eyes. It felt as if the artificial gravity tripled.

“General Sendak,” crackled the thunderous voice, “the Blue Lion has awoken near your location. You are to retrieve it at once.”

Below him materialized the diagram of a solar system, highlighting the third planet from the sun.

Surprise colored Sendak’s face. “Sire, this is the planet we head to now. The Champion fled there not a quintant ago.”

An intrigued hum rumbled from the elder Galra. “Stay the course, General, and ensure that the Champion and any allies with him are captured alive.”

“It shall be done, my Emperor. No foe has ever stood in my way, and none ever will. Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa,” echoed the crew.

“Vrepit Sa.”

With that, the Emperor vanished.

The Blue Lion. It had taken everything in Sendak to keep from shivering at the mere mention of it. All citizens of the Empire knew of Voltron and the tremendous power it wielded. If they could secure it, no rebellion could ever threaten their rule.

Smirking, Sendak stood and looked behind him. “How’s your boredom now, Colonel?”

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Haxus grinned. “Crushed, General.”

A dark chuckle escaped Sendak’s lips. ‘Well, now. It seems today’s getting interesting.’

———————————

“Woo-woo-yeah! That was amazing!” said Lance.

“No it wasn’t…” moaned Hunk from the floor.

After the stunt in the canyon, Blue had settled down and landed on a high butte, and everyone was seizing the opportunity to catch their breath. As he did, Keith couldn’t help but smile a little.

Placing a hand on a console, he murmured, “Guess the old girl just needed to stretch her legs.”

A faint rumble ran through the metal, sounding like Blue agreed, but it cut off when her head spun toward the sky and rapid beeps filled the cabin. She jumped and activated her thrusters, hurdling up through the atmosphere.

“What now?” Pidge asked, clutching the seat once more.

In reply, a holo-screen popped up with a depiction of four dots moving through their solar system. A growl resonated in Lance’s mind.

“It’s the Galra,” he said.

Behind him, Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, his voice barely a whisper. “They found me.”

“Blue says we need to get away from Earth fast.”

Pidge shook his head as if to dislodge something from his ears. “Wait, wait, wait, it can talk!? Since when? And what did it say, exactly?”

“Well, it’s not like she’s saying words, more like feeding ideas into my brain.” At his friend’s dubious brow, Lance added, “Kind of.”

“Uh, yeah, more importantly, did she say how close they are?” asked Hunk hurriedly. “A-Are they getting close? Yes, no, kinda?”

“Does she know their ships’ capabilities?” asked Keith.

Snidely, Lance replied, “Oh, yeah, and she knows their favorite movies and what they had for lunch, too.”

Shiro rubbed his temple. “Guys…”

“I’m literally asking for the basics.”

“So what, do you, like, hallucinate or something?” asked Pidge.

“Guys—”

“H-How angry are they?” Hunk squeaked. “Are they hungry? Are they hangry? Do they want to eat us!?”

“Like I know!”

“GUYS!” Startled, all eyes turned to Shiro. “Would you please just stop!?”

A sharp growl pierced their ears as Blue used her paw thrusters to do just that. They didn’t need Lance to translate why. Four gigantic battlecruisers warped into existence before them, abruptly slowing from traveling at some unimaginable speed. Angular dark hulls glinted dully in the starlight, all of them marred by scars from battles past and bearing massive cannons on top; long necks stretched from stouter bodies, like hunting herons with battle axes for beaks; comparatively tiny rectangles of harsh violet energy dotted the metal, larger sections marking the main flow of power. The lead ship sported three massive spikes attached to each side at the base of the neck.

“Holy. Crow,” whispered Hunk, trembling from head to toe.

Then more alarms went off. A second holo-screen popped up, showing a strange, five-pronged symbol (it almost resembled a skull, albeit thin and stylized) that made Keith’s eyes narrow before changing to reveal a furry, purple, stern-faced alien with ears larger than his head. One eye had been replaced with a cybernetic implant.

“I am General Sendak of the Galra Empire, Right Hand of Emperor Zarkon, ruler of the known universe. Surrender, or we will—” He blinked. “Wait a tic… You—You’re children? You’re all children.”

“We’re so not!” Lance thought for a moment. “Well, maybe Pidge—” Smack “Ow! Will you cut that out!?”

Sendak appeared rather befuddled at their banter, dismissing it in favor of focusing on the man quietly trembling off to the side. “Are you truly so desperate that you would recruit children? I would’ve thought the Champion to be above such tactics.”

Champion. A bolt of shame tore through Shiro, and he looked away.

Taking a step forward, Keith replied hotly, “Tactics like kidnapping and torturing innocent people? Spare me the fake honor.”

“You dare insult the Emperor’s Hand, boy?” Another, thinner Galra stepped up behind Sendak with eyebrows that would put a Vulcan’s to shame, having similar ears to his commander, but skin instead of fur.

“Enough, Haxus,” said Sendak, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he gave a wry huff. “At least they have some fire in them. Regardless, my offer stands. If you surrender the Lion and cooperate, I give you my word, you won’t be harmed. Refuse, and we will take you by force.”

‘You expect us to trust your word? Fat chance,’ Keith thought.

“Maybe we should listen.” All eyes went to Hunk in disbelief. He continued in a hushed voice, “I-I mean, even the Lion thinks we don’t stand a chance, so maybe if we—”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Lance whispered. “Don’t worry, I got this.” He looked back at the Galra, theatrically cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “No.”

With a yank of the controls, they shot away in a random direction, cutting the feed.

———————————

From the bridge, Sendak watched the Lion blast off with an incredulous expression, then sighed heavily.

“Children,” he muttered, shaking his head before turning to his crew. “All ships, pursue and ready weapons.”

“Do you truly think they’ll put up a fight?” asked Haxus.

“I’m hoping they’ll try,” Sendak replied, a hint of amusement on his face.

———————————

“This is a terrible plan!” said Keith.

“Oh, shut up!” Lance yelled back. “This is exactly what you did in the desert!”

“One: I know that route like the back of my hand, and what my vehicle was capable of. You don’t. Two: in a desert, there are obstacles to throw pursuers off. We’re in open space!”

As if to affirm his concerns, Blue lurched violently; alarms started blaring and streaks of purple zipped past. A diagram of the Lion appeared, her shoulder highlighted in red.

“They’re shooting at us!” Hunk wailed.

“Yeah, I caught that,” Lance tersely replied.

With a flash, Blue’s force field returned, and she went to dive. Unfortunately, at the same moment, Lance tried to bank left, resulting in a slow tumbling maneuver which made them take multiple hits.

“Blue, what the heck are you doing?” he screeched.

Again the two tried to dodge on their own, and again they swerved right into enemy fire.

———————————

Sendak, Haxus, and the rest of their crew watched dumbfounded the great Lion of Voltron spastically wobbling around as if it were drunk.

“What in the…”

———————————

More alarms were going off now, mixing together into a horrible cacophony. When one hit knocked him into a side console, Pidge noticed its holo-screen displayed an image of the barrier with a meter that went down each time they took a hit.

“Uh, I can’t read this language, but I’m pretty sure it’s saying the shield’s failing,” he called over the noise, then the radar caught his attention. “And they’re catching up!”

“You don’t say?” Lance shot back, still yanking on the control sticks.

“Okay, um, maybe try a Herbst maneuver? O-Or a Thatch Weave! No, wait, that’s dumb, we don’t have enough ships—”

“Do we have any weapons?” Keith asked as the youngest teen rambled on.

“Oh, yeah, they’re right here next to the shut-up-and-let-me-drive button!” snapped Lance.

Crouching with his arms over his head and tears streaming down his face, Hunk chanted, “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!”

In the center of the chaos stood Shiro, his hands clasped over his ears, the pounding of his heart only adding to the noise. Every flash of violet that passed and every horrible tremor of the ship brought with them another burst of ghostly pain. He couldn’t do this—HE COULDN’T DO THIS!

Then Blue let out a frustrated snarl. An alert popped up on-screen, but the Earthlings didn’t get a chance to read it before the world around them became, in a word, liquid. The distant stars stretched; their bodies began warping; a fathomless pressure surged into the cabin. One moment, everything was rubber; the next, like a stone snapped from a slingshot, the Lion bolted forward and, seemingly, out of existence.

They were far from dead, however. The pressure relented, allowing them to breath again, though they nearly forgot to upon seeing the view. Ribbons of purple, blue, and gold light flowed around the Lion in an endless stream, space itself bending, making way for her, and at their center, directly before her, shone a brilliant point, like a pure white star.

A second later, the gut-churning sensation returned, only, somehow, in reverse. The lights vanished, leaving them in the cold black of regular space once more. Groans filled the cockpit, everyone blinking spots from their vision and attempting to right their stomachs and brains.

Shiro shook his head and looked up — and nearly stopped breathing. “Kerberos.”

At his faint word, the teens followed his gaze and spotted it as well. It and its fellow icy moons glinted in the faint glow of the distant sun, Pluto at their center, nearly sixty kilometers away.

“No way.” Pidge gaped, plastering his face against the screen. “It takes months for our ships to get out this far! We did it in seconds! How is this possible?!”

Blue rumbled proudly.

Lance’s eyes bugged out. “Wait, we have a hyperdrive!?”

Another, flatter rumble.

“Oh, sorry, slip-space drive. Didn’t know we were being fancy about it.”

“So, we got away?” said Hunk, daring to hope. Then the radar went off; the Galra cruiser came out of slip-space behind them. “Oh, come on!”

Instead of more shooting, however, magenta light poured over them, and Blue growled in distress, her frame shuddering. Kerberos stopped growing, and began moving away from them. Or rather, they were moving away from it.

“No…” Lance shoved the controls forward over and over, pushing Blue’s thrusters to the limit, but it barely made a difference. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Inch by inch, the tractor beam drew them backward. The small group resumed their shouting, desperate for something — anything — they could do.

There wasn’t. Shiro knew there wasn’t. This was exactly what happened before. He could see it in his mind: getting pulled into space screaming; being put in chains and beaten when they tried to resist; reaching desperately for his team as the Galra tore them away.

His team…

Shiro’s vision wandered over the four terrified teenagers. They were here because of him — because he couldn’t leave well-enough alone. How many more had to suffer like he had? He set his jaw and clutched his cybernetic.

‘No. Not again. Never again.’

“Cadet!” Instantly, the cockpit fell silent. All eyes turned to Shiro. “Do we have any weapons?”

“Uh, I-I’m not—” Lance cut himself off when the Lion brought up a holo-screen of her head and tail. “Mouth cannon and tail gun? Could’ve mentioned that a bit sooner, Blue.”

“Alright, what’s the play?” asked Keith.

Shiro thought for a moment, then replied, “We play dead.”

“What?!” shrieked Hunk. “I thought the whole point of this was not dying!”

“Just for a second,” Shiro said. “Look, we can’t break through their shield, but they’ll have to lower a section of it in order to grab us.”

“Which will give us an opening to take out the tractor beam,” Keith finished.

“Exactly. Lance, do you think you can pull it off?”

His signature smirk returning, the young pilot replied, “They don’t call me the ‘Tailor’ for nothing.”

Without hesitation, he cut the engines.

———————————

“Ha!” said Haxus from within the flagship. “It seems even the Champion knows when he’s beaten.”

Sendak, meanwhile, took a step closer, his eye narrowing. ‘What are you playing at?’

———————————

Keith’s hand tightened on the pilot’s chair. Part of him wanted to do more than simply disable the beam, but logic reminded him of the three other cruisers nearby. The Galra wouldn’t fall for their little trick twice. All they could do right now was wait.

Wait…

Wait…

A line of neon purple appeared in the corner of Blue’s vision.

“Now!” Shiro cried.

Lance yanked the controls, spinning her around, and fired the mouth cannon straight into the tractor beam. It exploded in a massive ball of fire, knocking the Lion away. Taking advantage of the momentum, she threw up her shield, pumped every remaining ounce of power into her engines, and booked it.

———————————

“What?!” Haxus ground his fangs at the fleeing Lion.

“Now that’s more like it,” said Sendak, grinning. “Launch fighters!”

———————————

Fighter ships swarmed from the cruisers — thick, double-sided needles, they looked like, with ridges of red lights — firing upon the Lion from all sides. Many found their mark despite Lance’s valiant efforts of pulling every movie stunt he’d ever seen, including a barrel roll.

Keith said, “We need to find cover.”

“Actually, Mullet,” said Lance snidely, “Blue says she can get us out of here, but we gotta hide our jump point or the purple furries will be able to track our energy path.”

“…So, we need cover.”

“You know what—!”

Pidge grabbed his laptop, mumbling equations to figure out where they were while scouring charts of the system. After a moment, he pointed and shouted, “The Orion Nebula! If we can make it to the Trapezium Cluster in the center, it could help mask our trail.”

Another wave of lasers rocked Blue; she fired back with her tail, nailing two.

“Do it,” said Shiro.

Lance activated the slip-space drive, and within seconds, they reached the nebula and iove in, the trip a little less disconcerting now that they knew what to expect. Muti-colored gases swirled distantly around them. Contrary to their portrayal in pop culture, the only dangerous parts of nebulae were the sparse cavities of radiation and X-ray-emitting plasma near the stars they contained, both easily avoidable. Now, though, there was a third danger: the crazy aliens popping up on their tail again. Both the fighters and cruisers barreled after them, weapons firing manically. Lance swerved hard to avoid the onslaught, sending anyone not holding onto something careening into the wall.

His bruised face turning into a tomato, Pidge screeched, “Would you be careful!? This isn’t the simulator!”

“That’s good. I always wreck the simulator,” Lance replied, forcing a laugh.

“Not a helpful confession, man,” said Hunk. Beeping sounded from the console; the shield’s diagram was flashing red, the meter beside it barely visible. “Force field’s almost gone, guys!”

“That’s fine! We’re almost there!”

The first star of the cluster was dead ahead, growing larger by the second. Even at base speed, the Lion was ridiculously fast — but not fast enough.

Keith asked, “How is being near a star going to help when they’re so close? Are we going to pull a slingshot maneuver as we jump?”

“Yeah, right, like that’s possi—” Blue rumbled, making Lance freeze. “That is possible? Okay, we seriously need to work our communication.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Hunk, suddenly more afraid of the plan than capture.

His friend replied, “Blue says the best way to ditch the Galra is by making multiple jumps to confuse their sensors, then use the star’s gravity well to alter our path and zip outta here. Apparently, we could get torn in half if we time it wrong, though.”

Hunk looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “How is that our best option?!”

“It sounds insane,” said Pidge slowly, running the numbers in his head, “but if we angle it just right, theoretically, it could work.”

“Shiro, you’re the senior officer. What do you think?” Keith asked, turning to him.

The man was quiet for a moment. “It’s risky, but at this point, what isn’t? If you think you can do this, go for it.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Lance replied.

Though surprised at the title, Shiro found himself smiling.

“Alright, everybody” — Lance rolled his shoulders and settled back in his chair — “hang onto your butts.”

With a burst of speed, Blue charged forward, shifted direction, and made a quick jump away from the star. The four cruisers followed, calling their fighters back first, effectively removing them from the equation. Again and again they jumped, going this way and that, undoubtedly confusing their pursuers to no end, the four cruisers falling behind little by little every time.

The instant there was enough distance, Blue signaled Lance. They zipped back to the star, made the calculations, activated the drive one last time, and vanished. If the Earthlings had thought going through slip-space normally was bad, using it while gravity forcefully altered its course was a nightmare. They felt squashed and stretched all at once; crushed and floating; pained and numb. In a blink, it was over, and they were flying peacefully through slip-space. The group all but collapsed, gasping to re-inflate their lungs. Regrettably, the pause also allowed Hunk’s stomach to catch up with his brain. At least he was able to aim at a corner before what was left of last night’s dinner made a return trip. The others cringed away, hands over their noses.

“So sorry,” Hunk shakily muttered before another wave came.

“I’m just surprised it took this long,” said Pidge.

———————————

“Inconceivable!” A sentry flew into the wall, hanging a moment before falling to the ground. It did nothing to quell Haxus’ fury. “How do four children and one stray prisoner best the strongest fleet in the Empire?!”

“Quite unusual.”

He turned sharply to Sendak, who seemed far more impressed than irked at the horde of glitching “possible trajectory” markers plastered over every inch of the nebula on screen, which in turn irked him further. “How can you possibly not be outraged by this?!”

“Because it’s nothing that can’t be remedied,” replied the general smoothly. “A few lost fighters and a frantic retreat do not a victory make, and there’s only so many places they can hide. Find their last jump signature and compile a list of all possible endpoints.”

Haxus was clearly still annoyed, but dutifully saluted and set to his task.

Turning back to his station, Sendak began reviewing the footage of the battle, unable to keep the excited grin from his face.

‘Well, it isn’t the battle I was hoping for, but I do enjoy a good hunt.’