The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Chapter 10 - Iron Sharpens Iron

Rain pelted leaf and stone alike, herding animals into the underbrush and drowning the forest in a barrage of noise. It wasn’t enough to drown out those horrible sounds; those snarls that ripped through the trees. Branches snapped like the lightning overhead. Massive paws pounded louder and louder, in rhythm with the four men’s heartbeats. The frigid air clawed at their throats and lungs; their legs burned and begged them to stop, to go back for the friend they’d had to leave behind. But they couldn’t. Not for anything in the world they couldn’t, not when home was so close. All they had to do was find the river and—

There! The din of its water rose above the rain just enough for them to hear. They raced toward it, hope sparking in their chests. It quickly extinguished. Skidding to a halt at a break in the trees, in horror, they beheld the river, twice the size it should’ve been, its once gentle burble now a thunderous torrent. The four glanced at each other, then behind. They didn’t have a choice.

As swiftly as they could, they began making their way across the barely visible path of stones. They ignored the freezing bite of the water, instead putting all their energy into keeping their balance, almost slipping several times. At last, the first man reached the bank, then stood ready to help the others. A part of him wished he hadn’t turned around.

From the shadows of the opposite shore, eyes of frigid blue gleamed. Watching. Waiting. Hungry.

“RUN!”

The man’s voice could hardly reach his companions through the howling wind and peeling thunder, but they didn’t need to hear the word itself to know his meaning. Gone was what little remained of their caution, and they raced through the water. In a few strides, the second man reached the shore, the other two close behind.

It wasn’t close enough.

The current might as well have been a delicate breeze to the creature. It tore across the river, a primal snarl resounding from its throat. With fearful cries, the pair of men leapt the final distance. One felt a firm push against his back.

A roar; a blur; a splash.

By the time the other three got to their feet to search for their friend, all they could see was an arm caught in a fallen branch a few feet downstream, unmoving.

Then the beast turned to them. It stalked closer, obviously enjoying its game.

Breaths stuttered; minds raced. That made two of their men torn apart in an instant. It demanded retribution, but what were they to do against such a monster? Anger and fear warred in their hearts until a sound broke them from their thoughts. One of them drew his weapon on instinct, only to realize it wasn’t the beast he’d heard. All eyes turned up to the small cliff face near the waterfall where the flash had come from as a new cacophony began. Lightning must’ve struck one of the lone trees at the top, and with the weight of the flooding river, it couldn’t hold. A terrible rumble, worse than any thunder, shook the air and ground alike. Stone cracked into a thousand pieces that were instantly caught in gravity’s thrall, spurred faster by the unleashed waves.

The beast’s head snapped back to the men. With a roar they could barely hear, it lunged, but it was too late. Just before its claws could reach them, earth and water came crashing down upon it. It was gone. In unison, the three’s breaths finally returned to them. A mere moment later, they were stolen again.

uuwoooo

The deep, sharp sound sent a chill down their spines greater than any downpour could bring. When echoing howls replied to the first, they started running once more, leaving the creature’s body buried in debris. Though its eyes no longer glowed, tiny sparks sporadically sprang from them, illuminating its smooth, angular, gaping maw.

———————————

“Heads up!”

“On your six!”

“Watch it, Hunk!”

“Sorry!”

“Paladins, please, focus!”

Focus or no, Keith doubted the result would change. Coran had recently determined them ready for higher training levels and, as per usual, was taking a perverse delight in watching them flail — as if they needed the distraction of his chortling over the intercom. The only silver lining was Allura being in the chaos with them. For all her boasting of her advanced skills, she was having just as much trouble with her bot as the others were. They had each been given one sparing bot with a corresponding weapon while thick panels had been placed around the room to serve as cover. Strangely, though they seemed to have an extra bot. No one really noticed in the chaos, though.

Round and round they went, getting more bruises than the exercise was worth. The gunners’ blasters may have only been set to stun, but the electric shots still hurt plenty. At last, they eked out a win, Keith delivering the finishing blow up through his bot’s jaw into its head. It slid off with a relieving ca-thunk.

Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room for a several arduous seconds. Everyone leaned on whatever they could find, their jelly legs threatening to give out. Even saying “good job” felt like too much work, so a few of them just grunted or gave thumbs-ups instead.

“Ha ha, excellent!” Coran cheered from the control booth. “Well done, all! Now, who’s ready for the next level?”

Groans resounded. Pidge flopped onto her back, her legs dramatically flipping into the air before dropping.

“Can’t we at least get some water or a snack first?” said Hunk in a moan.

“If that’s what motivates you, then you may only have it after!” Truly, Coran knew the way to peoples’ hearts.

Avoiding the pits opening to collect the fallen training bots while the others grumbled to themselves, Shiro straightened with a deep breath and said, “Come on, guys, just one more round and then we can take a break. Everyone get—” He abruptly paused and glanced around. “Hold up…where’s Lance?”

As it turned out, he nowhere to be found. After a moment of searching the room, they all looked at each other, then turned to Hunk, who was suddenly very nervous.

“Oh, yeah, h-he should be here soon,” he said with a stiff wave, “he just had to sun—something to do. Heh heh…”

Eyebrows raised throughout the room, including in the booth. Another high-pitched chuckle came, accompanied by a layer of sweat that wasn’t from practice. Eyes narrowed and heads tilted pointedly.

“…Okay, so he might have, possibly, sorta, kinda…gone to the beach…just a little.”

An assortment of scoffs, pinched noses, and other such annoyance rang through the group.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Hunk added hurriedly. “I bet in a few minutes, he’ll walk through that door, fresh-faced and ready to give it his all.”

“Minutes?!” Pidge launched herself into a sitting position. “Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no! If I have to run around like a headless chicken and get beat up by robots instead of working on my million-and-one projects, so does he!”

“He will, he will — I mean, not that I want him to — but just wait, he’ll be here.” Hunk turned toward the door. Seconds slowly ticked by. “Yup. Any…any minute now…”

Flat glances passed around the room.

‘No wonder we had an extra bot.’ Keith let a faint growl slip out. Lance was the one who never shut up about how great it was to be Paladins, and yet this was how he treated the job? If that fight had been real, Hunk (and possibly Pidge) would be dead. This wasn’t the first time, either. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the way Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, undoubtedly fighting off another headache. Sure enough, he took a deep breath for a deeper sigh.

Before he could speak, Keith walked past. “I’ll get him.”

“Are you sure?” his brother asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure.” He had that undertone in his voice, the one Shiro knew often meant something was about to get broken and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Expediently, if you please,” Allura called after, to which she received a thumbs-up from over Keith’s shoulder.

When he reached the hallway, Alfor appeared next to him and said, “If I might suggest so, perhaps the sword would be better left here?”

The Red Paladin shot his predecessor a heavy-browed look. If anything, his grip on his bayard tightened.

“…Very well. I shall prepare the funeral.”

“Thank you.”

———————————

A cool breeze swept over the sand, keeping it from becoming scorching under the radiant sun while water lapped happily against the shore. Ocean birds chittered overhead, little alien crabs merrily skittered sideways to avoid them, and over all of it, Lance’s music blasted from a small speaker paired with his phone as he launched up another wave. His whooping and hollering was nearly as loud, and grew more so with every trick. While the swells weren’t all that big, they were still fun to ride. Laybacks, hang-tens, flips; anything and everything he could think of, he did. Only when he finally ran out of ideas did Lance float back to the beach, where he tossed his surf board neatly next to the rest of his stuff, grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the small hover-table, and plopped into his chair, hands resting behind his head.

The salt of the sea, the gentle wind, the warm sunlight; oh yeah, this was a perfect day. So of course an angry red shadow had to interrupt it.

“Huh, must’ve been in the sun too long,” he said, not sparing a glance. “I’m startin’ to see cave trolls.”

“You’re l—”

With a press of a button, Lance’s music drowned out the words before he settled deeper into his seat, his smile unwavering. Keith’s eyebrow twitched. He snatched the phone and silenced it.

“Hey!” said Lance, sitting up and moving his sunglasses out of the way. “No touching my music!”

“You’re lucky I’m not breaking it, especially after what you just pulled. Training—”

A lengthy groan cut Keith off as Lance flopped back, his shades doing the same. “Training this, training that, blah blah blah. Can’t you talk about literally anything else? Like the weather?”

“The weather hasn’t missed three sessions,” said Keith with a growl.

“Oh, please, I haven’t missed today’s, it’s only been—”

He held out the confiscated phone, the digital clock glaring against the orange glass screen. “Over half an hour. We’ve already done warm-up exercises and gone a round with the bots.”

Lance seemed to almost think about this, but then leaned back again. “Eh, so what? We do two a day, I’ll make it up this afternoon. Now, if you don’t mind, Mullet, you’re in my sun.”

“That’s not the point—”

“Meh-meh-meh-meh-meh.”

Keith stared at him flatly. “Are you seriou—”

“Bah-bah-bah-bah.”

“Stop—”

In Lance’s defense, it was a surprisingly good turkey call.

It took every ounce of willpower in Keith’s body to not strangle his fellow Paladin right then and there. He had to turn around as he forced the choice words on his tongue to stay behind clenched teeth, though a couple clipped grunts still managed to slip through, much to Lance’s infinite amusement.

‘Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus,’ Keith mentally chanted, painstakingly getting his breathing under control. ‘Just think. Tempting as it is, knocking him out and dragging him back probably isn’t the best option. What would Shiro do? Find an incentive, maybe? But what could—’ He perked up slightly. Hopefully, it would be worth the earful. ‘Sorry, Princess.’

As nonchalantly as he could, he looked over his shoulder and said, “You know Allura’s training with us today, right?”

Several seconds of silence passed. Keith began to worry he might not have been convincing enough, or Lance was ignoring him. In truth, however, the teen was caught in a vision of the lovely princess in her training suit, all tired and sweaty, draped in his arms, the two having defeated an entire squadron of robots in perfect synch.

“…Chau,” he suddenly said, then grabbed his hoverboard and zoomed off to the castle.

“Wait, you forgot your…” Keith’s shout faded, his teammate already up the cliff and out of sight. He let his arms, which had been gesturing to the assortment of beach supplies, fall with a grumbling sigh. “Where did he even get this stuff?”

———————————

Not two minutes later, Lance was in his armor, helmet slung under his arm as he slid into the training deck, calling in a sing-song voice, “The main man has arrived!”

And found he was saying it to no one.

“Hellooo?” he tried again, wandering toward the center of the room. “Everybody’s favorite Blue Paladin reporting for duty. What, the training sesh’ already over?”

“For you? Not nearly.”

He whipped around to the control booth, grin returning to his face. “Well hey, hey, pretty lady, what’re you doin’ up there? Thought this was gonna be a nice little workout, y’know, loosen up, have a blast.”

“Not this time,” said Shiro in a stern voice. “Lance, this was your third consecutive absence. I shouldn’t have to remind you of the consequences for playing hooky.”

A crick entered Lance’s smile. “W-Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘playing hooky’ per se, more like—like R&R. I mean, we’ve gotta have some time to rejuvenate, right?”

“You,” said Allura, “have gone far past that. This training is important. You do not get to ignore it to be a slothful bumpkin—”

“Thank you, Princess, I can handle this,” Shiro cut in, his arm separating her from the screen. Though none-too-pleased to be interrupted, she took a step back and let him go on. “Listen, I get what you’re saying, but we only have two mandatory training sessions a day. You’re not overworked. You’re avoiding.” Lance shrunk in on himself a little, his grin gone as he rubbed the back of his neck. “‘Why’ is something I hope you’ll tell us, but in the meantime, you have make-up work to do.”

“And by Alfor’s beard will it be a doozy!” Coran’s tone was troublingly chipper.

“I had not realized my beard was now an expression,” muttered Alfor from the computer, sounding both honored and bemused.

“Ah, yippee,” drawled Lance, limply twirling his finger in the air, “another crazy Coran idea.”

“Actually, it’s not that crazy this time,” said Hunk.

“Should still be funny, though,” Pidge added.

A vein ticked on Lance’s forehead. “Is everybody up there?!”

“Yup,” the two geniuses replied in unison.

“Indeed we are, now hush up, this is important. Since there appears to be a disconnect between you and your fellow Paladins, I decided a trust exercise was in order.” Seamlessly, Coran moved from twirling his mustache to conjuring a hologram. Down below, energy pulsed through the seams of the floor, then rose up and formed into an assortment of walls around Lance before disappearing. “This invisible maze will teach you that trust. Your teammate can see the path but you cannot, so listen carefully. One misstep and you’ll get a slight shock.”

“Pff, easy-peasy,” he said, slipping his helmet on. Then he paused; everyone was there. “Wait, who’s guiding me through?”

“Take two steps forward.”

He groaned. “Oh no, not Keith. How come he gets to be the man on the mic?”

“Because this is a punishment, Lance,” Allura replied, each word coated with a patronizing emphasis that made him sag.

‘For both of us, apparently.’ Rather than speaking his mind, Keith kept his focus on the map before him, his fingers subconsciously finding their way over his mouth in thought. “Like I said, take two steps forward, turn right, then take three more.”

Lance rolled his eyes, and his whole head with them. ‘Just had to ruin my perfect morning, didn’t you, Mullet? But fine, since there’s literally no other way out, whatever, I might as well play along. That stupid monotone voice is gonna drive me nuts, though. Now, which way did he… Oh yeah, right.’

He started walking — and immediately felt the full force of several volts, eliciting a high-pitched shriek. Thankfully, it only lasted a moment and he was able to shake it off quickly.

“You did that on purpose!” he snapped, whirling back toward the booth as chittering laughter filled the comm.

“You’re not listening,” said Keith while Shiro got Hunk and Pidge to quiet down.

“You said ‘turn right’!”

“But before that I said ‘take two steps forward.’” Once again, he felt his willpower tested in order to keep his tone even. This wasn’t the time for arguing. His teammate was in a dangerous situation and it was his job to get him out of it. All they had to do was—

“Two steps—” muttered Lance, moving in the exact same direction as before.

“No, wait—!” A second screech made Keith cringe

“We’re switching places right now!”

“That was the same way. You’re turned around. Just face me and we’ll go from there.”

“I’m not looking at you or following single word you say! You’re the whole reason I’m in this mess! If you hadn’t come barging in—”

“Well, maybe if you’d been here on time—”

“—stickin’ your big, fat nose—”

“—just listen for once—”

“—tu cabello es estúpido y tu mamá también—”

“—can’t understand you!”

“—always do this!”

WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP

“Incoming transmission,” Alfor suddenly said. “It is a distress signal from Planet Kebb.”

“Guess this will have to wait,” said Shiro, secretly relieved to have his headache cut short for him. “Let’s get to the bridge.”

“Alfor, does it say what’s happened?” he asked upon reaching their destination.

“No,” replied the king as he appeared and activated the main display. “It is merely a beacon, nothing more.”

“Do we truly need a message?” said Allura in a bitter tone. “Only the Galra are capable of challenging the Kebbali to such an extent as seeking aid.”

Inspecting the planet’s image, Pidge asked, “They’re that tough?”

“And then some.” Coran brought up several depictions of incredibly intricate and sophisticated cities, vehicles, and robotics, all gleaming in sleek silver. “In fact, the Kebbali were one of the greatest technological forces in the universe, matching even Altea.”

“Nearly,” said Allura in an almost defensive manner.

“So, if guys like that are calling for help…” Hunk didn’t need to finish for grim understanding to fill the room.

“Well, what are we standin’ around for?” said Lance. “We space cops or not? Ooh! Coran, do the Lions have sirens we can turn on?”

“Ah, no,” he replied, looking confused for a moment. “But we could record you making a siren noise and you could broadcast that.”

“Perfect! Mmeeeerrrrr—!”

Shiro slapped a hand over his mouth. “Nope. Not doing that.” Only once Lance sagged with a disappointed groan did he remove it. “He’s not wrong, though. Everyone, to your Lions.”

Just before he started moving, he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We are going to talk later.”

Keith nodded, albeit sourly, and the two headed out with the rest. Lance watched them out of the corner of his narrowed eye.

With every trip they made to their Lions, it felt shorter and shorter, and in no time at all, they were ready for launch. Lance was a bit too ready.

“You think the Kebbali will throw a parade for us after we’ve freed them?”

Seven incredulous faces appeared on Blue’s dash.

“They’re under attack and that’s where your mind goes?” said Keith.

Shooting him quick, nasty look, Lance turned up his nose with a smirk and replied, “Hey, I’m just sayin’, when th—wai—www—”

Blue wisely chose that moment to take off, using a tad more thrust than necessary. After leaving her hangar, she slowed down to match the others and sent a lightly reproachful rumble to her Paladin.

“What? Oh, don’t you get on me, too,” he said, slumping and crossing his arms.

“I’m kinda with her on this one,” said Hunk, ensuring Keith and Shiro’s comms were muted and drifting closer. “You’re lucky you didn’t get benched.”

“Mullet started it! He electrocuted me three times!”

Not bothering to look up from checking her equipment, Pidge dully replied, “It was only two times.”

“Whatever! Point is, the dude’s a total jerk.”

“My guy, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.” Hunk leaned closer with each word. “Let. It. Go.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Lance whispered in faux offense. His friend rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m all good. He’s the one with the problem. He blows up at every little thing, he’s reckless, rude, and he’s got an emo rat’s nest for hair. I’m telling you right now, there’s no way I’ll ever trust him, not after today.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

The trio jumped. Coran’s holographic head was suddenly before them, apparently having listened in.

“You should read some of the mission files from the old Paladins,” he went on, heedless of the mild panic he’d caused. “They could grate on each other’s nerves something fierce, let me tell you. It took dozens of battles fighting side-by-side for them to truly trust one another, but in time, they became inseparable, like a pack of yalmors linked at the ears.” He tugged on his own emphatically.

“Wow. Yeah, that’s definitely not us.” Lance tipped over, a leg flopping up onto the side console while his torso hung by the seatbelts.

“Are you certain you do not want me accompany you?” asked Allura, unmuting the comms as the portal appeared; a welcome distraction. “I have met the Kebbali before. I can help.”

“We’d love to have you, Princess, but you’re still the only one who can open the portal for us,” Shiro replied.

Keith added, “Plus, it’s been three millennia. They might not remember Altea.”

A stricken expression crossed her face, and she looked away.

“Great job, Mullet-For-Brains,” said Lance, shooting upright again, “make her even more depressed, why don’t you?”

“Wh—It’s a possibility.”

“And it’s a bigger possibility that my foot’s gonna go up your—”

“Boys! Focus!” Shiro’s bellow silenced them, but they still shot each other glares through their screens.

“Ten bucks says they don’t last half an hour,” Pidge muttered to Hunk, who sighed heartily.

To everyone’s relief, they made it to Kebb without any more incidents. While still well within the Habitable Zone, the planet was a bit closer to its sun than Earth or Arus, allowing the tropical climate usually localized to the equator to be more widespread, coating a large portion of the central region in a deep, vivid green they could see from space. What wasn’t so visible, however, were targets. They’d arrived on the opposite side of the moon, as was becoming their standard tactic, but upon coming around, saw Galra-free skies.

“Uhh, did the definition of ‘attack’ change in the last thousand years?” said Lance. “Where’s the party?”

Pidge activated her long range scanners and conducted multiple sweeps. “They’re not here. There’s no Galra anywhere on the planet.”

“Seriously? But then, why the S.O.S.?” asked Hunk. An extended beep sounded from the holo-screen just then, and the marker on the map vanished. “…Which just stopped?”

“We’re about to find out,” said Shiro as they breached the atmosphere. “Keep your guard up. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, so be ready for any…thing…”

His voice faded with the parting clouds.

There were no towering monuments or elegant ships to greet them; no shining cities to welcome or enchant. There was only what remained.

What little metal could be seen beneath the layers of moss, dirt, and vine was dull and cracked like weathered stone. Trees wove through the crevices to reach for the sky above, as if to leave this place, yet were firmly set by sprawling roots. Skyscrapers lay shattered and half-buried in the ground like grave markers, the soil attempting to reclaim the ore that had been taken from it. Massive fissures, likely the work of earthquakes, split several areas. Smaller buildings jutted out from the sides of low cliffs they’d sunken into; some still dared to stretch above the high leaves, creating the illusion of massive, ancient fingers cradling the remnants of the once-great Kebbali.

It didn’t end. No matter how far they flew, it was all the same. A city consumed by time.

Slowly, the five descended, landing in one of the larger breaks of the forest. The misty rain settled on their visors in a light film and their boots left tracks in the mud as they traversed the ruins. They were far more intimidating from the ground, looming over the Earthlings. A chill breeze swept through, though it was not the cause of their shivers. From beneath the choking green peeked black carbon scoring.

They wandered apart, each drawn to something different, like fallen statues and the potential promise of information. Keith’s attention roamed until he glimpsed a flash of color. He ducked under a curtain of moss and into the corner of a building that was, to his surprise, mostly upright. It appeared to have been an apartment, every surface embalmed by lichen and creeping plants. A dented table lay against the wall with only two chairs to be found: one near the hole where he’d entered and the other beneath a small tapestry, frayed and faded, an insignia at its center.

‘Why do I feel like I’ve seen this before?’ He’d hardly thought it when Keith realized it was the same symbol Green bore on her shield plate. Now that he looked closer, the colors matched the Lions as well. ‘Voltron supporters.’

A bad taste was working its way into his mouth, but he swallowed it back, allowing himself to be drawn away by the faint sound of dripping. He followed it to a door set slightly ajar and pushed it the rest of the way open, the warped metal groaning and screeching along its old track before giving way with a heavy clunk. Birds startled into the air from their perch around a tear in the ceiling, their frantic flapping temporarily obscuring the pale light it provided. When they’d gone, it was free to illuminate the space once more — not that there was much to see.

A bed sat against the left wall, its sheets little more than rags. What were once clothes and other such small belongings spilled out of a half-open closet across from it. One of the ceiling lights dangled from its wires like an eye knocked from its socket. Everything reeked of mildew and rot.

Each echo of Keith’s footsteps felt like desecration, largely because they kept alternating between splashes from the thin streams of water pooling on the floor and squelches from the moss coating every other section of it. As he stepped through the decaying belongings, he spotted something. Making his way to the far side, he picked up a large chest that had fallen upside down and moved it away. Underneath lay a doll. Its arm hung by barren thread, having been pinned by the box for so long, yet it was still clearly a simplified replica of Voltron.

He couldn’t keep the bitter tase at bay anymore as he knelt and gently picked it up, brushing some of the grime away. These people had been friends to Altea. This family had believed in the Vanguard. When the fighting started, had they thought the Lions would save them? Protect them from the horrors outside? How long did it take them to realize no one was coming?

With mournful hands, the young Paladin held the old toy’s forehead against his own, closed his eyes, and let out a long, deep breath from his nose. ‘I’m sorry.’

After a minute, he made his way back outside. The others were reconvening in one of the few clear areas. He quietly scanned the doll into his energy storage and he joined them.

“I don’t get it. How does a civilization this advanced become nothing more than rubble?” Shiro asked to no one in particular, his gaze still drifting.

“More like, how do these ancient civilizations get this advanced?” said Pidge, scanning a piece of broken tech she’d found. “I mean, we’ve only just mastered androids back on Earth, but somehow Alteans figured out how to digitize consciousness three thousand years ago. How are we so far behind?”

“Dunno,” said Lance, “but when I kick the bucket, I totally want all the stuff in my brain stored in a giant ship.

Keith couldn’t help narrowing his eyes at the teen’s languid posture. “The amount of information in your brain could be stored in a paper airplane.”

“Oh yeah? Well the amount of information you have could be—!”

Lance cut himself off, constipated confusion replacing his glare — a sign his brain was wearing down its gears faster than usual to form words. His teammate raised a brow.

“…It’s less than what I have,” he eventually blurted, and seemed quite proud of himself for it, if his crossed arms and puffed chest were anything to go by.

Hunk gave a weak thumbs-up. “Yeah, good one, man.”

“So good it’s bad,” Pidge added.

“Okay, can we get back on track, please?” said Shiro. Another headache was coming on. “We still have no idea what happened to the Kebbali or who triggered the distress beacon.”

“You don’t think it was their ghosts, do you?” asked Hunk with a gulp.

“For the last time,” said Pidge with an exasperation that actually managed to divert her concentration from the device in her hand, “there’s no such thing as ghosts. There’s never been any empirical evidence for them, just a bunch of idiots with cameras and coincidence.”

“Alfor’s a ghost.”

“AI. Totally different, logical, and not insane.”

“A person living on after death, communicating with the living via a spectral form, and influencing the world around them. Just because it’s not magic doesn’t mean it’s not a ghost.”

“It’s the copy of a mind converted into a digital form and jacked into the mainframe of a spaceship. Geese, ducks, and swans may be similar but they’re not the same thing!”

“Yeah, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…” Lance piped up.

“It could be a goose?” said Shiro, completely lost. “But wait, geese, swans, and ducks all sound a bit different, so can we really say they talk the same?”

“Hmm, good point.”

“Well, maybe they’re like different dialects,” said Hunk, “y’know, ‘cause they’re all the same sound, just a bit different. You got quacking, honking, and…I dunno, what sound do swans make? Do they honk, too?”

“Swans hiss,” said Lance with a distant, traumatized look on his face.

Keith rolled his eyes as the conversation devolved into animal noises. It almost covered up the rustling of the bushes. He turned his head ever so slightly, listening. Too big for a critter; too weighty of a gaze for a predator; and there was more than one.

Returning his focus to the others, he found charades had joined the mix.

Lance looked like a demented chicken in his attempt to mimic a goose waddle. “It’s all in the hips, see?”

“What are we even talking about!?” Pidge finally exploded.

“Hey, it’s your metaphor—Hmf!”

Keith’s hands shushed both of them and he dropped his voice. “Zip it. We’ve got company.”

Whatever action Lance may have been about to take was abandoned in favor of following his teammate’s side-glare toward the trees. The heavy shade and dense bushes kept them from full view, but the five could tell something was moving out there. With the release of her face, Pidge activated her HUD’s BLIP scanner and thermal vision. Three figures were crouched in the underbrush.

“They’re people,” she said, matching Keith’s tone.

“The Kebbali?” asked Shiro.

“Their descendants — gotta be,” said Hunk.

“Only one way to find out.” Lance was suddenly several feet closer to the strangers. Before anyone could stop him, he bellowed, “Hey, guys! Don’t worry, we’re friendly — well, most of us, anyway. How’s about you come out and we be amigos, huh? Whaddaya say?”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. Not ten seconds later, a barrage of arrows flew from the foliage. He might’ve laughed at Lance flailing to dodge them had he not been preoccupied with pulling the idiot out of the way. They ducked behind part of the ruins, Pidge joining them while Hunk and Shiro mirrored the trio across the way.

“Guess that’s a ‘no.’”

Pidge rewarded Lance’s astute observation with a stiff smack upside the head.

“We mean you no harm,” called Shiro. “Please, we just want to talk. We’re the Voltron Vanguard.”

The arrows stopped.

Nervous glances passed between the five. Keith inched his head around his cover and zoomed in. There was a different kind of movement out there now, one he’d wager was from the aliens discussing whether or not to kill them. He could faintly hear their conflicting whispers.

After a long minute, a gruff voice rang out, “You are Defenders?”

“Yes,” Shiro eagerly replied. “Yes. Defenders of the Universe, that’s us.”

“Then…you know the Beasts?”

Another round of glances, now colored with confusion.

“Is he talking about the Lions?” Hunk whispered.

There wasn’t a need to ask about them, though; they were standing all around, in plain view. Was he talking about Robeasts? The thought of one already being on-world put knots in the Earthlings’ stomachs.

Tentatively, Shiro answered, “Maybe. Just put the bows away and I’m sure we can help you.”

Another minute passed. With each second, the Paladins’ anxiousness grew, until finally they heard movement. Peeking out of their hiding places, they saw the three aliens rise above the bushes and take a step out. Keith and Shiro exchanged a look, the latter tilting his head and brow, a message of “it’s the best option we’ve got” passing between them, then did the same, their friends following suit. As the two parties neared, they took in the rather imposing trio.

The first word that came to their minds was “orc-ish.” Even from a distance, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge found a certain resemblance to that Brol guy from the bar, particularly in stature. However, there were some key differences, such as smaller underbites rather than tusks and a lack of piggish noses. Green dyed their skin, varying in shade slightly for each, while their long, dark hair was tied back in surprisingly intricate patterns, perfectly framing their prominent ears which, although similar to an Altean’s, were much longer and rested at flatter angle. There was an almost bat-like quality to them. Sparse, well-worn leather armor protected their broad shoulders and bare, highly muscular chests, a small assortment of weaponry resting alongside their hefty bows, two of which still had arrows notched.

Hunk swallowed as they drew closer, then stopped when Shiro held out a hand. “Hello. My name’s Shiro. This is my team: Keith, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance.”

Weighty stares passed over them in turn, then the first Kebbali tentatively lifted his own hand. They stood there. Doing absolutely nothing. Both men let their hands fall slowly, neither knowing what just happened. Sheepish smiles hid on four of the five Earthlings’ faces. Right. Aliens wouldn’t know what a handshake was.

“I am Durga,” said the Kebbali, placing a proud fist on his chest. The other two did the same as he gestured to them. “He, Arghul, and he, Balthog.”

The former had a few more lines on his face than his companions and greyed hair filled with streaks of white. Conversely, the latter stood a bit shorter than the others, and his frame was slightly lighter.

‘Elder, younger, adult,’ Keith observed. ‘A perfectly balanced hunting party.’

‘Are the ladies’ names gonna be funky, too?’ Lance thought.

“Good to meet you,” replied Shiro. “A relief, actually. When we saw these ruins, we were worried you’d been wiped out.”

“This darkness came long before us.” Arghul cast a grave look at the fallen city, his eyes filled with a contempt the Paladins weren’t sure they understood. He turned back to them and lowered his voice. “But maybe not gone.”

“The ‘beasts’ you mentioned?” Pidge guessed.

Something between a growl and a hum came from Balthog, his grip on his bow tightening. “And yours are alike. How we know you not send them?”

Though his kinsmen tensed, judging by how they didn’t rebuke him, it was likely more at his bluntness than the line of thinking.

“I assure you,” said Shiro, stepping forward, “we didn’t. Frankly, we’re a little lost in all this. We were told this planet was a hub of powerful technology—”

In unison, the Kebbali snarled and spat on the ground.

Arghul shouted, “Forbidden! Do not speak it again!”

“O-Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Keeping his hands up, Shiro reversed his step.

His team was just as startled; Keith had instinctively slipped into a defensive stance, close to drawing his bayard, while the rest had edged away. Upon spotting his ready posture, Lance glared and shifted to match, though not quite convincingly.

“Peace, old friend,” said Durga after letting out a steadying breath. “They not know.”

“Don’t know what?” said Pidge, the mild heart attack not helping her already frayed patience. “What the heck is going on? You were supposed to be these super advanced geniuses, but then you shoot at us with bows and arrows, talk like cavemen, and snarl at us over the stupidest stuff! Do you want our help or not?!”

It was the hunters’ turn to be startled by this tiny spitfire who was now panting angrily, her arms still half raised in a feral manner.

While they exchanged glances, Hunk put a hand on her back. “Feel better?”

She slumped with a huff. “A little.”

‘Gonna need Coran to find me some pain meds or something,’ Shiro thought as he nursed yet another headache.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, then Durga slowly asked, “You truly can kill Beasts?”

“We—”

“Course we can,” said Lance, cutting Shiro off. “We do it all the time, right, guys? Heck, we could probably start a pro monster hunter business by now. We’ll get ‘em outta your hair no problem-o.”

A firm hand gripped his shoulder; Shiro was giving him a stern look. “We’ll do what we can. We have some experience, but it would help if we knew exactly what we’re up against.”

Durga thought for a moment. “Chief explain better. Follow.”

Despite his companions’ initial tension at his decision, they fell into step behind him. The Paladins nodded to each other and followed, quickly sending word to their Lions to put up their shields just before entering the trees.

As they walked, Lance couldn’t help glaring a little. ‘He never does that to Keith.’

Luckily, it wasn’t too far or difficult a hike (though Pidge would say otherwise), the clouds parting and allowing the sun to warm the land. Their escorts kept a close eye on them the entire way with incredible scrutiny, a feeling which only increased when they reached the village. With a short blow of Durga’s horn, the gates of the spiked log wall opened.

Large teepee-like tents covered the clearing, well-worn paths forming a sprawling web in-between and all around. Here and there, a rudimentary hut could be seen, but these appeared to be something new, hence their low numbers and lack of wear compared to their fabric counterparts. Skulls, it seemed, were the top choice for decor; they marked the entrance to every home while several more were displayed in various locations and patterns. One such collection was being adjusted by a woman as they neared, the cooing of the baby on her back alerting her to the group’s presence. She looked up and smiled in relief, only for expression to fall into fearful shock upon spotting the Earthlings. Durga held up a calming hand as they passed. Although it did little to soothe her, she didn’t attack or scream, merely turned her body to become a wall between the group and her child. A couple of them tried to smile and wave. She growled at them.

“Tough crowd,” Lance muttered. Hunk nodded nervously.

Similar reactions dogged them throughout the village. The women were quick to gather their young and hide them away while the men defensively stepped in front of them, some even drawing knives or clubs. By the time the group reached the chief’s tent — distinguished by its size and excessive number of skulls and furs — a crowd had formed behind them. Durga exchanged hushed words with the two guards at the entrance, then jutted his head toward the tarp-covered opening and ducked inside, Arghul and Balthog on his heels. Deep breaths were about all the Paladins could do to prepare before joining them.

Pelts, feathers, and more bones adorned the floors and walls, as if acting as bodyguards for the figure sitting at the back. Seated upon a crude wooden throne crowned by (of course) a skull, was a rather large Kebbali, his armor embellished with painted markings and fur. His hair was the most elaborate the five had seen thus far, yet it was still simple enough to allow his thick horns to take prominence. It was a trait they’d spotted in only a handful of the villagers; the ones with the more yellowish skin the chief likewise sported. He was also one of the few who had a beard.

Upon seeing them enter — Balthog and Arghul hanging back near the door, Keith noticed — he straightened from the conversation he’d been having with a robed man next to him and narrowed his eyes. Well, technically, eye. One was milky grey, pale scars branching from it like lightning.

“Chief Grum’gorag,” said Durga. He placed his fists against each other and gave a shallow bow, then gestured to the Paladins. “These ones found with giant Beasts. Say they can kill them.”

The five did their best to mimic his salute, but before either party could get a word out, a croaking voice spoke up.

“Inconceivable! None can slay them!” The thin, robed old man turned around, revealing a face half-covered by bandages, rendering him blind. Or perhaps it was the other way around. “Ancient creatures, they, made for death and doom. Their hides are thick; their claws and fangs shred bone; their breath is ravaging flame! What could these ones do against so terrible, so monstrous, so incomprehensibly—!” Tunk “Hmm?”

His staff, which he’d been waving around during his speech, had found its way to Keith’s head. Shiro thanked the stars he was wearing his helmet, yet that seemed to be what had caught the Kebbali’s attention, and he tapped it twice more, tilting his ear toward the sound. Keith shot him a look.

“They wield forbidden things,” said Durga in a tone that suggested he was far too used to his elder’s antics.

“Oh,” said the shaman. “That might do it.”

“Or they doom us,” said Balthog from the back. “They outsiders. They not trustable.”

“Wow. Deja vu,” said Pidge, flashing back to when they’d met the Balmerans.

“Tell me about it,” Hunk replied.

Balthog continued, “Beasts attack us, now these ones appear with more. How we know they not responsible?”

“Too soon,” Arghul added with a nod.

Keith bristled at the growling undertones of both. Their suspicion was understandable. In their position, he’d do the same — and had, in fact. However, if they so much as moved toward any of his teammates, all bets were off. Already his fingers tingled with the burgeoning energy of his bayard.

“Because we not angerous aliens,” Lance said in a stilted manner, as if trying to imitate their speech pattern, “we chill aliens.”

“Dude. What is wrong with you?” asked Pidge, apprehension bordering on fear. If their faces were anything to go by, the others were in the same boat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he quickly muttered as he leaned over, then straightened. “Big Lions are friends, sent from stars to help Kebbali. Protect from Galra and all monstery things. After all, we defenders, not offenders.”

A hush fell over the tent. Everyone was staring at him like he’d grown an extra arm, a single thought running through the Paladins’ minds: ‘Puns? That’s what you go with?!’

Snapping out of his stupor, the shaman said, “Wait, ‘Defenders?’”

“They claim, but—”

He pointed his staff in Durga’s face, silencing him. “Begin with such next time! Not like I can see symbol!”

“Heh…heh heh…”

All eyes turned to the throne. The chief’s shoulders, they were…shaking? Yes, shaking. His low, uneven chuckle steadily grew louder and louder, until it was roaring laughter. Scant echoes sounded from the rest of the group, none of them quite sure what to do, except for Lance and the shaman, who joined in heartily.

“Any who jest so cannot be schemers,” said the latter as they regained composure.

“Indeed, Wovek,” replied Grum’gorag.

Lance put his fists on his hips and beamed. Keith raised an eyebrow. ‘Huh. Weirdly effective. Maybe he’s not crazy.’

“Still does not explain why you came,” the chief went on. A hint of skepticism had returned.

Clearing his throat, Shiro replied, “We detected a distress beacon from your world. We thought it was caused by the enemy we’ve been fighting, the Galra, but regardless, we’re fully prepared to help with these beasts in whatever way we can.”

Grum’gorag considered this for a moment, closing his eyes in thought. When he opened them again, his baritone voice rang firm. “We know not of beacons or Galra, but if you offer aid, we accept. With forbidden things, you can kill them. If you truly friend, you will. If you foe, we already dead.”

Low growls sounded from the back of the tent; Balthog and Arghul clearly wanted to protest, but their chief’s word was final. With clenched fists, they stormed out, one after another. Durga’s face fell slightly and he let out a small sigh.

“Very good. Now, best start would be… Aha, yes,” said Wovek, much too excited about all this, “Durga will show body. Only Beast to die, see. Might be useful.”

“That would be very helpful, thank you.” Shiro repeated the salute, prompting his team to do the same. “We won’t fail you. I swear.”

“I hold you to that,” replied Grum’gorag gravely. “We fight ‘til end.”

Shiro nodded, then he and the others followed their guide outside — to the loud, distinct sound of many bodies shuffling away. The crowd from before remained, milling around, going about their normal day after definitely not eavesdropping. Durga rolled his eyes and kept moving — until something made his ear perk up, that is. Keith’s, too. Before either of them could offer a warning, a pebble struck the back of Lance’s knee.

“Ow! Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!” he cried, hopping around, holding his injured leg. “Who did that!?”

By the corner of the tent, a little girl ducked behind a stack of firewood, giggling behind her hands. She plucked another rock from her pile and went to stand when a shadow fell. Her smile dropped as she looked up. Keith loomed over her, arms crossed. Wide eyes darted to her half-raised hand before she threw the stone at his face. He caught it easily; she smiled nervously. Right when she tried to run, he grabbed her by the back of her dress and held her up like a kitten.

“Oh, you little—” It was only thanks to his friends snickering that Lance was cut off from saying some very choice words.

“Leggo, leggo!” the girl yelled, flailing.

“Greshid!” said Durga sharply, making her tense. He pointed with a fist on his hip. “Home!”

The instant she was released and steadied herself, little Greshid stuck her tongue out at Keith and raced away. He watched one of the women take her hand and begin scolding her, something she did not seem receptive of, then looked at the rock in his hand.

‘Pretty good shot. Even knew to aim for the exposed part. I would’ve gone for the bigger target, though.’

After giving it a small toss up and then aside, he rejoined the group. Pidge and Hunk were still laughing at their unfortunate friend while Durga rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Is she yours?” asked Shiro.

“Might as well be,” he replied.

Shiro glanced at his teammates messing with each other. “I know the feeling.”

As they trekked through the forest, an array of sounds crowding the air, Keith kept his voice low. “Anyone else smelling a trap?”

“It does feel too coincidental,” his brother replied.

“But we didn’t detect any Galra signatures,” said Hunk. “No ships, no bases, no nothing. Even if there was a bunker, we should’ve picked up on the energy at least.”

“Since they run on BLIP tech, it’s possible the dense foliage caused our sensors to glitch,” said Pidge, though she didn’t sound very convinced.

“Or it was squirrel.” Everyone turned to Lance, who’d slung his hands casually behind his head. He shrugged. “C’mon, not everything’s some big plot. Those buildings are so old, one of ‘em probably just got struck by lightning, or water got in, or something, and made it glitch.”

Hunk mulled it over. “Well, that’s not impossible.”

“Exactly. Plus, the chief basically said they’ve never even heard of the Galra. So, let’s stop being a bunch of paranoid pansies” — Lance shot a pointed look at Keith, who glared — “and just enjoy the scenery.”

“You know that’s literally impossible for me, right?” said Pidge as she fended off a swarm of bugs.

“I think ‘literally’ is a bit of a stretch,” Shiro replied with a smile, only for it to fall away when he looked to Lance. “We shouldn’t underestimate the situation. Need I remind you, it was Keith’s caution that kept Blue from being stolen back at Banlam.”

The teen’s scoff seemed to let out a bit of his hot air, his smile faltering. “I could’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, right into a pair of handcuffs you ‘handled’ it.” Pidge’s smirk grew with her finger quotes, much to Lance’s annoyance.

“You did get tied to a tree, man,” said Hunk.

“Yeah, and Mullet left me there! How come nobody talks about that, huh?”

“Uh, because it was only for, like, a minute. Stop being a baby.”

“Big talk from someone who’s as small as a baby.”

“Watch it, pal!”

“Okay, guys, that’s enough.”

While Shiro attempted to calm things down, Durga noticed Hunk’s long-suffering sigh and tired smile, and chuckled a little. ‘Similar even across stars, hm?’

It took a minute, but eventually, they quieted. The way they ribbed and bantered still rang in Keith’s head, though. They were always joking like that, like they could say whatever they wanted to each other and it was okay (well, mostly). Lance seemed to have that effect on people, Keith had noticed, even with the chief. Which reminded him…

He hung beside Shiro for a minute, then said, “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have escalated things.”

“I forgive you. I know it’s not easy, but you boys need to get over whatever this thing is that’s between you.”

“There’s nothing to ‘get over’, he just—he’s such a—” Keith’s hands clenched and unclenched, trying to express what he couldn’t say.

“I know,” Shiro repeated, a smirk worming its way onto his face before he schooled it back. “But this isn’t just about you two. What you do affects the whole team, and if we can’t fight with one mind, we’re going to fall apart.” His brother crossed his arms — grudging, not defiant. Gently, Shiro bumped his shoulder into his. “Promise me you’ll at least try to work things out?”

One side of him whispered it couldn’t be done. Still, Keith allowed the words to properly sink in, then gave a nod and grunt.

Shiro finally allowed himself to smile. “Good man. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Lance, too. You’re not in this alone.”

A second grunt. “Thanks.”

“Any time, buddy.”

He lightly shook his little brother’s head, earning him a small laugh, which he returned — something Lance noticed quite expediently. He always saw how close they stood; how they exchanged glances and secret smirks; how they seemed to relax only around each other. It made his scowl return.

‘Tt. He’s such a kiss-up. Bet that’s how he got into the Garrison in the first place.’

In a few minutes' time, they reached their destination. The tumultuous waterfall provided a fitting backdrop to the river below. Rocks and dirt — a couple tons by the look of it — lay in the middle of the water, disrupting its flow and sending some of it into the surrounding woods. However, what lay under the debris was of greater concern: a large, mechanical, cat-like head and paw.

“Whoa,” breathed Hunk, him and Pidge kneeling next to it. “You’re right, it does look like the Lions, just horse-sized.”

Keith’s gaze moved from the buried robot to the broken cliff, then to a fallen branch a few feet downstream, and finally to the faded footprints in the soft ground beneath them. He let out a faint grunt.

“Landslide?” said Shiro.

Durga nodded. “Last night. Bad storm broke stone, fast water carried it. Almost too late.”

“What were your people doing out here?” asked Keith.

“Uh, the heck are you talkin’ about?” said Lance.

The young man pointed to the branch rustling in the river. Yellow stained its bark. Their helmets easily identified the blood.

With a solemn sigh, Durga replied, “Hunting. We thought Beasts asleep. We wrong. Killed half.” He seemed to hesitate, and clenched his fist. “Friend Aagrazel among them. Saved my life.”

A hush fell over the group, some bowing their heads.

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro eventually said. A grateful hum sounded from the Kebbali. “Is there anything more you can tell us about these things? Areas they favor, numbers, weaknesses?”

“No,” Durga replied. “We find them everywhere, but they stay in shadow. Tried to find den once. Ended bad.”

“I think I can help with that,” said Pidge. Much to their escort’s unease, she connected her gauntlet to the robot’s systems and began making quick work of the data. After a moment, a map of the forest appeared, with a long, long line woven across it in every direction. Two points were marked with dots. She pointed. “Okay, this is us, this is the village, and here’s where this guy’s been since he came online.”

“Sorcery,” whispered Durga.

“All I’m getting from this,” Lance deadpanned, “is that it couldn’t tell its tail from its snout.”

“You should get along great, then,” Pidge replied.

“No, look” — Hunk pointed to a dense section of lines, then the bigger dot — “he hung around the city ruins a ton but completely avoided the village. If these things are supposed to be super aggressive predators, why not attack? I mean, they’ve gotta know they’ve got the advantage.”

“Maybe they’ve got Mullet’s chummy disposition. They are cats, after all.” Lance cast a wry expression at the unimpressed teen while moving his hand in a mocking imitation of a paw.

“But lions hunt in prides,” said Shiro. “Shouldn’t they be working together?”

“They’re not lions, though.” All heads turned to Keith, who was a bit surprised by their questioning blinks.

 Lance stood from where he’d been leaning over Pidge’s shoulder and said matter-of-factly, “Um, yeah they are. Already established that, like, an hour ago. Try to keep up, el bobo.”

Keith gave him a flat look, then stepped closer to the fallen mech and began clearing the debris. Despite not understanding why, Hunk was quick to help, and soon the upper half was exposed. Dents and scratches marred its body, a leg barely hanging on by a few wires.

Pointing as he spoke, Keith explained, “The muzzle and ears are too long and narrow, and I’m pretty sure our Lions don’t have ridges.” It was certainly the biggest difference now that they could see it: a segmented line of sharp, raised metal running down its spine. He wiped a bit more of the mud away and tapped the underlying plating. “Or stripes.”

Shiro hummed. “So, really, they’re more like—”

“Tiger-wolf.”

Curious stares fell on Durga, yet his gaze was locked on the mech.

“You know these things,” said Keith; a statement, not a question.

He nodded blearily. “Spirits. Ancient guardians, say elders. Why… Why attack? Have we done wrong?”

One hand rubbed the opposite fist as Durga looked away, his skin a couple shades paler. Now that he mentioned it, the Paladins, upon thinking back, realized the skulls around the village weren’t simply trophies. They’d all been the same predator, painted with stripes of varying colors, a few having been hung from the top of the wall. There were even carved versions hanging from the villagers’ necks — totems asking for protection.

“More like they’re broken or being controlled,” said Pidge somewhat flatly, only half-acknowledging Durga’s distress.

“Must tell tribe,” he muttered, not hearing her. “But mission…”

A firm hand on his shoulder finally got through, and he turned to Shiro. “It’s okay. Do what you have to. We can take it from here.”

“But orders—”

“Were to show us the body, and you did,” said Lance. Though his voice was still heavy with overconfidence, it was softer than before: the same tone he used when calming Hunk. “Your job’s done. Now it’s time for us to do ours.”

Durga was lost in thought again, but much sooner than before, he came out of it and nodded in thanks.

“Just in case we don’t come back…” Shiro offered a Kebbali salute. “It was an honor to meet you, Durga.”

He returned it. “Likewise.” Casting one last glance at the robot, Durga turned and headed into the trees. However, a few paces in, he paused and looked back at them, saying, “Guardians’ light.”

With that, he headed off, a new vigor in his pace.

“‘Guardians’ light?’ What’s that, a goodbye?” said Hunk.

“Probably some kind of blessing,” said Lance.

“Well, call me blessed because I just found something.” Pidge’s chipper call returned their attention to her screen. New dots adorned the map. “After filtering out the flora and fauna signatures — using a BLIP-customized signal-to-noise ratio, of course — I’ve picked up these faint energy readings.”

“Can you tell what they are?” asked Shiro.

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied. “With a signal this low, it could be anything.”

He hummed. ‘Could still be a trap. Just because the Kebbali don’t know the Galra are here doesn’t mean they aren’t, and this kind of setup is exactly their MO. Of course, the mechs could just be malfunctioning. Guess there’s only one way to—’ His eye caught Lance test-kicking the robot and Keith kicking his foot away in return, causing both to glare at each other. ‘Lightbulb.’

“Alright, here’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll split into two teams and head to the closest pair of coordinates. Keep in radio contact and report anything suspicious.”

Hunk gaped at Shiro like he’d suggested they put on clown wigs. “Wait a sec, you want to split up when there’s a pack of tiger-wolf mechs roaming the woods killing anything that moves?”

“They’re not a pack,” said Keith. “If they were, none of the hunters would’ve survived last night.”

“Yeah, like you know anything about hunting,” said Lance, rolling his eyes. “And besides, these are alien robots. They could be more wolfy for all we know. Or the tigers here could be pack animals. I mean, how different are tigers and lions anyway?”

“Uh, well, I’m pretty sure tigers are a bit bigger, they prefer jungles and forests while lions like the savanna, they’re more aggressive — which is just fantastic for us — and their roars aren’t as big, they’re more like, uh…” Hunk tried to demonstrate, but it sounded closer to him having a bad stomachache.

“Wait, I thought tigers couldn’t roar, they only chuffed, y’know, like uff-ff-ff, uff-ff-ff—”

“Do not turn this into another duck thing!” Pidge snapped.

There was a pause. Lance quacked.

Instantly, her bayard was at his throat.

“Okay, okay, chill,” he said with a laugh as he held his hands up. “Alrighty, so I say the two Krabby Patties go to the first point while us cool guys—”

“Actually, Lance, you’re going with Keith.”

Four heads turned to their leader, blinking faces mirroring one another.

“Shiro. What are you doing?” Keith asked through a set of clenched teeth that could possibly pass as a smile if one squinted — and was drunk.

Lance gave a strained laugh. “Good one, Cap. Me and Mullet, yeah, right. Oh man, I always knew you had a great sense of humor.”

“I do,” Shiro replied. “But this is legit. You’re going.”

Horror warred with frustration inside of Keith at the sight of his barely-concealed smugness. ‘Oh no. He’s scheming.’

“Wha—Bu—I—No, but—” Lance forced his smile to return. “B-But shouldn’t we, like, have a brainy person on each squad?”

Hunk raised his hand. “As a brainy person, I second that.”

Pidge copied him. “Thirded.”

“Not a debate,” said Shiro firmly, though not unkindly, “and you can send them a scan of whatever you find. Besides, you two are our best short range-long range combo, so I’m sure you’ll make a great team. You got this.”

Keith eyed the hand he placed on Lance’s shoulder. ‘Laying it on a little thick.’

Evidently, he was the only one who thought so. The teen lit up at his hero’s touch. “Well, of course we do. One of us more than the other, obviously, but I guess I could pick up his slack.”

“Excuse me?” said Keith, a growl in his undertone.

Hunk and Pidge glanced at each other, the memory of what happened in the bar on the trading asteroid springing to mind.

“Perfect! It’s settled!” With a forcibly oblivious smile, Shiro slung his arms around the boys and gave them a helpful shove down the path. “Good luck!”

Taking it in stride, Lance walked backwards a few steps, gave a two-fingered salute, and called, “You can count on me, món Capitan!”

‘Still wish I’d at least gotten Pidge,’ he thought as he turned around, eyeing his companion. Then a devious grin spread across his face. ‘But now I can get my payback!’

“So, since we’ve got all this time ahead of us, Mullet, have I ever told you the story of how I single-handedly saved my sister’s quinceanera?”

“Uh…”

“Well, it all started with an e-mail the week before — which is already super weird ‘cause, like, who uses e-mail anymore, am I right? And—Actually, you know what, it started way before that. So, earlier that month…”

Keith shot Shiro a disdainful look over his shoulder.

“Have fun,” his brother said in a quiet, slightly sing-song voice. Neither it nor his two thumbs-up helped.

Rolling his eyes, Keith resigned himself to his fate, and the pair vanished among the leaves. Shiro watched them with a self-satisfied smile. The rest of the team, however, was much less enthusiastic.

“They’re gonna die. You know that, right?” said Pidge flatly.

“Well, one of them,” Hunk added.

“They’re big boys,” Shiro replied, “they’ll be fine. Probably. Come on, we should get moving, too.”

After briefly consulting the map, they headed out into the vast forest.

“…Are you really sure, though?”

“Yes.”

“Like, one hundred percent?”

“Yes.”

“B-But what if Lance gets really pushy, which I know he can, and then Keith can’t take it anymore and skewers him—”

“Hunk,” Shiro finally said with a small laugh. “Relax. That’s not going to happen. Just take a deep breath and have a little faith, okay? They’ll both be alright.”

Doing as instructed, the big guy let his shoulders droop a bit. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re-you’re probably right, I just… I mean, they’re always at each others’ throats.”

“Which is why they need this. They’re more alike than they realize. They just need time to figure that out. But it won’t happen with me — and you — being their buffer all the time. They need to do this on their own.”

Hunk hummed as he fiddled with his fingers. “Still doesn’t feel quite right, though, especially with how dangerous it is out here.”

“Eh, my mom did the same thing with me and Matt,” said Pidge.

“Really?”

“Yeah, whenever our fights got too loud, she’d lock us in the garage with all her plants — most of which we were allergic to — until we sorted things out." She didn't so much as pause her tapping on her holo-screen.

Hunk gave her a slightly concerned look. “I’m starting to see where you got your intensity.”

If she heard the comment, it was swiftly forgotten as part of what she was working on lit up.

“Hellooo, what have we here?” she said, then activated her comm. “Team One to Team Two, come in.”

“Qué bolá—ey-hey-hey, hold up, we headed out first, we should be Team One—!”

“Go ahead, Pidge.”

The three shared a cringe at Keith’s scathing tone. He sounded exhausted already.

“I’m pretty sure I just confirmed the sabotage theory,” she replied. “I’ve been digging through that mech’s programming, and one of these codes is not like the others.”

“Galra?” asked Shiro, leaning over to get a better look, Hunk mirroring him on her other side.

“Who else? This little line here seems to be a transmission of optical output command.”

“Aha,” said Lance. “And that’s important because…”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “It was live-streaming its feed, numb skull. Which means there’s somebody on this rock monitoring and most definitely controlling these things.”

“How did we not detect them, though?” asked Hunk.

“Obviously they’ve got a cloak, the question is what kind. If I can figure that out, I should be able to lock onto its energy signature.”

“Can’t you trace the transmission?” said Keith.

“Not if it’s inactive. We’d have to catch a mech, and I’m not sure we’re equipped to hold it for as long as I’d need.”

After nodding in thought, Shiro said, “Alright, let us know when you’ve got something. Keith, Lance, remember: stay in contact. We don’t know how many more tiger-wolves are out there. If something goes wrong, fall back and rendezvous at the village.”

“Never fear, món Capitan,” replied Lance, “ain’t nobody messin’ with this sharpshootin’ master. I’ll keep Mullet’s hot-headed butt in one piece.”

A beat passed before Keith’s voice sounded, deep, sterile, and sharp — and in perfect Japanese. “<There would be no witnesses.>”

His companion looked at him like he’d grown a third eyeball. “Dude, did you just go through second puberty?!”

“<Deep breaths>,” Shiro replied, though given the microscopic snickers sneaking in, it was hard to tell if he was only talking to his brother. “<No maiming. We still need someone to fly Blue.>”

‘Who says it has to be maiming?’ Pushing away his mutinous urges, Keith gave a faint grumble and said, “Understood. Team Two out.”

A suspicious gleam entered Lance’s expression as he eyed Keith for the hundredth time that day. ‘What was he saying about me? Was he trying to get me kicked off the team? Well, joke’s on him, ‘cause I’m here to stay.’

“Now, where was I? Ah, right. So, the night before the play…”

‘On second thought, maiming sounds perfect.’

Meanwhile, an amused look passed between the others.

“So glad we’re in civilized company,” said Pidge with a faux poshness that would’ve given Allura a conniption.

“Mm, quite,” Hunk replied in kind.

Shiro laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, guys.”

They continued onward, the flora steadily closing in around them, and their path soon led them back to the forgotten city, albeit a different section of it. Here, the buildings had slightly different, more artsy, designs. One such structure was the half-crushed glass dome where the energy signature was originating from. Navigating what little remained of the other, smaller domes, which appeared to have once been connected to the main one in a field of bubbles, the trio began exploring the space.

Even with the wild growth, it was clear this had once been a greenhouse of some variety. A much wider range of plant life than there was outside had all coiled together and cross-bred, producing the strangest assortment of foliage the Earthlings had ever seen. It might’ve been beautiful were the gloom they cast not so deep. Their stomachs tightened.

“So, this is where is signal’s coming from?” asked Hunk, keeping an eye on a rather large flower that was unnervingly similar to a Venus flytrap.

“Actually,” said Pidge slowly, adjusting her holo-screen, “that is.”

She pointed to a nearby section of the floor sporting a massive hole — one not made by any earthquake. Something had peeled the metal back like a tin can, leaving plenty of room for at least a dozen of those mechs to enter at once — much like the ones quietly gathering at the edge of the dome.

Peering down into the steep tunnel, Shiro could feel his fist crackle with energy. “Will our comms work down there?”

“So long as it doesn’t close, they should,” replied Pidge.

“No, don’t say stuff like that, you’ll jinx us!” said Hunk, his head darting around as if he expected the rest of the glass to come crashing down any second.

“Ugh, you’re being as superstitious as the Kebbali. Can we stick to stuff that’s real, please?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks ago, we would’ve thought mystic lion mechs weren’t real,” said Shiro, “and yet, here we are.”

“That’s totally different, and mostly science.” She waved her hand dismissively, but a hint of doubt entered her expression.

He smirked a little at seeing it, then returned his attention to the gaping cavity before them. “Come on. Keep your eyes peeled and stay close.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hunk muttered.

The steep passage forced them to lean back, a hand or two on the dirt beneath, so they wouldn’t tumble off into the unknown. They were halfway there already, though, having to alternate between crouching, unsteady steps, and sliding. All three breathed much easier upon finally finding the ground. To their surprise, it wasn’t more dirt or stone which greeted them; it was metal.

“Whoa. Looks like an old mag-lev tunnel, like the ones back home,” said Pidge, crouching to inspect one of the twin rails running through the wide tunnel with her flashlight.

“The perfect place to hide.” Every crack in the walls, palette of moss, and drip of water, Shiro committed to memory. This was exactly the kind of environment Druids loved. ‘I won’t be caught off guard again.’

On they trekked, their lights banishing the darkness wherever they went, only for it to return just as easily once they moved. A few branching routes passed by, some caved in or shifted to the point of letting out unstable groans. They echoed down the tunnels, returning like the call of some great, hungry beast.

Pidge forced herself to focus on the map forming above her gauntlet and the energy signature somewhere within. ‘Find the source, get the heck out. Find the source, get the heck out. Find the source, get…the…’

She stopped. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was something there. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stiffly turned and saw, sitting on her shoulder, a big, black—

“AH!” Her shriek made Hunk shriek — his somehow higher-pitched than hers — and sent Shiro into defense mode, his hand lighting up. “Spider! Get off get off get off!”

Panic swiftly shifted to bewilderment as Pidge proceeded to do the wacky-waving-inflatable-arm-flailing-tube-man dance. Eventually the tiniest dink sounded and she stopped. The guys trained their flashlights to the spot and saw the skittering arachnid, which was less than half an inch long.

“Pidge, that’s not even that big,” said Shiro flatly while she shivered and Hunk regained his breath.

“It was big to m—” The short girl froze again, then sharply turned and kept walking. “Let’s just move on.”

Her teammates shared small smirks before falling into step a few feet behind her. Had she been any more focused on her map, she might’ve missed where it led.

THONK

Rubbing her nose, she backed up and squinted for a moment, then gaped. “Hey, guys? I think I found it.”

They were quick to join her and stared at the strange sight. Glossy onyx glinted in the light, towering over the three, hovering above the ground.

“What is that?” said Hunk.

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied grimly, “but let’s hope the comm still works.”

They never got the chance to find out. They couldn’t even scream as growls sounded behind them. Their lights went out.

———————————

Were it not for the copious amount of buzzing and chirping serving as a distraction, Keith was certain his ears would’ve fallen off by now. Not once in the last seven minutes had Lance paused in his autobiographical monologue, which, from what the older boy could tell, was mostly overblown stories of tomfoolery. ...And family. His very large family. Keith shunted the observation to the back of his mind, and the tiny, unwanted curl in his gut with it. He checked his holo-screen again and couldn’t help sighing.

“…but it was for three of them, and I said ‘No, sir, I couldn’t possibly—’” Lance went to peek at his companion’s reaction, only for his gaze to land on something else. “Hey, check it out!”

Cutting across Keith, he crouched in front of another tiger-wolf mech, this one lying asleep. Moss and vines coated its body, as though attempting to bind it to the earth, much like the once-great city it had belonged to. Lance wiped some of the dirt away to inspect it, both boys noticing the sparse dents and scratches.

“Probably a sentry,” said Keith. “We should keep an eye out for any others—” Thunk thunk, dink dink “Quit messing with it! We don’t know if it’s active.”

He glared at the overly giddy teenager currently jumping on its back, poking its face, and kicking its side, laughing all the while.

“Pfft, c’mon, look at this thing,” Lance replied, his leg propped on its side like he was posing for a hunting photo. “There’s no way it’s—”

bwwooOOM

The pair blanched. An icy blue glow ignited in the mech’s eyes. With a yelp, Lance jumped back as it stood, easily tearing out of its restraints. It shook off dirt and moss, clearing its rusting joints before standing tall — at least five feet at the shoulder — and locking onto its new targets.

“Whoa!”

Although he’d never admit it, Lance was beginning to see the logic of not ticking off a murder machine. He opened his mouth, but when he turned, the space where his teammate should’ve been was empty.

“Move it or lose it, McClain!” Keith yelled, already sprinting down a nearby path.

Any retort vanished at the metallic rumble that reached Lance’s ears. It was readying to strike. He screamed as the growl became a roar, and he began flailing about, dodging non-existent attacks, then used his booster pack to fly down the road and catch up to his partner. However, escape would not be so easy. With strained whirrs and clunks, the tiger-wolf’s leaping body began transforming. The legs and tail tucked in, the whole frame reformatting itself into a ball and launching forward at a frightening speed.

“You had to mess with it,” Keith couldn’t help saying.

“Oh, keep your mullet on!” Lance shot back. “Or, better yet, take it off and spare us all the nausea of looking at it!”

The young man let out a growl of his own, though it was more from exasperation than anger. Of greater concern was how quickly the mech was gaining. They could hear the thrum of its engine growing louder, its buzz-saw-like ridge tearing into the ground, threatening to do the same to them. Both knew they couldn’t run forever, but before they could begin thinking of alternatives, they passed something — or rather, someone. It was Greshid! She was standing in the middle of the path, completely still, as if deaf to the danger bearing down on her.

The boys pivoted and shot back toward her. Detecting a new target, the mech unfurled, its hungry eyes locked on the little girl. Her scrunched face broke into a smile as the booger she’d been working so hard to get finally came out of her nose, allowing her to notice the metal beast just as it leapt upon her. Lance barely reached her in time. He threw his body around her and squeezed his eyes shut. However, instead of feeling agonizing pain, he heard a strange noise. Confused, he turned to see Keith standing behind him, his sword in the mech’s mouth.

“Get her outta here!” he said.

“What!?” cried Lance. “No way, I’m not leaving you alone with that thing!”

A bloodthirsty snarl sounded from the beast. Its back legs dug into the earth as it pushed forward with all its strength and chomped on the sword furiously. Keith grunted and pushed back. He refused to give it any ground, not even as its suspended front paws tried to swipe at him.

“We don’t have time to argue! Just go!”

One side of Lance really wanted to, but then Greshid whimpered. She was clinging to him, staring at the tiger-wolf with terrified eyes. He couldn’t leave her there.

Still, as he adjusted his hold on her, he couldn’t help thinking, ‘Always gotta one-up me.’

It did no good to dwell on it, though. With the kid secure, he boosted away, silently swearing he’d come back the second he could.

Keith watched them out of the corner of his eye. He waited a beat after they vanished into the dense foliage, then, with all his might, shoved the mech away, slipping his blade from its maw. Their gazes locked. Neither would go down easy, nor would they hesitate.

It pounced. He jumped over it with a boost, dismissing his sword. The moment he rolled to his feet, he continued boosting away to gain some distance. This, however, wasn’t a concern for the tiger-wolf. Energy built in its widened mouth and fired. Keith barely had a moment to lean out of the laser’s path.

‘I was afraid of that.’ Being inspired by the Lions, he’d figured they’d have more than mere structural similarity. Wovek’s “breathing fire” comment had been another clue. He’d just hoped he was wrong.

His aim thrown off, he greeted the nearby cliff face far more roughly than he would’ve liked. Armor scraping against stone, he managed to right himself enough to find a foothold and correct his flight path. Up and up he went, the laser hot on his tail, until at last his pack started to give. He quickly shut it off and ran a few more steps before boosting into a backflip. Perhaps in surprise, the mech stopped and stared. It wouldn’t last, Keith knew. He drew his sword, the plasma edge igniting eagerly, and dove, a war cry tearing from his throat; it roared in kind and prepared its second shot.

A good distance away, Lance skidded to a halt and bent over, panting, now back in the safety of the village. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too far.

Letting out one more groaning breath, he looked to Greshid and poked her cheek. “You really gotta quit causing so much trouble, kid.”

Without hesitation, she bit down on the offending finger and held on like a piranha. He shrieked and began yanking her off, which took several attempts and ultimately caused more pain as her unusually sharp teeth carved into his skin. His patience thoroughly gone, he plopped her onto the ground and pulled at her cheeks.

“Hey, I just saved your life!” he said, letting go. “I don’t want any attitude from a brat!”

Had he been more attentive to how she’d squirmed in his grip or held her sore face with a wobbly lip after, he might’ve been able to avoid what came next, but now it was far too late. A shadow fell over him. Upon turning, he found a rather unhappy trio of Kebbali women looming over him, the one who’d led Greshid away earlier standing in front. It was at that moment the little girl began bawling. Panic seized Lance. He tried to get her to stop, or at least explain himself, but it all came out as an incoherent mess.

A large hand grabbed his head.

‘Help.’

Meanwhile, Keith managed to catch himself as he fell onto his back, slightly worse for wear. There was no time to breathe before he was moving again. The tiger-wolf’s mace-like tail slammed into the spot where he’d just been, splintering the stone. He slid to a stop, then leaped into a roll as yet another beam came his way, slicing through several trees behind him. Once it stopped, he charged with another battle cry and dragged his sword down the beast’s side. Plasma carved into the metal like butter. Purplish fluid — maybe hydraulic or coolant — gushed from the wound. Whether it was pain or rage the mech roared with, Keith didn’t know; all he knew was he’d finally hurt it.

‘Press the advantage!’ Easier thought than done.

Just as he started to pivot, it swung its tail into his stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He sailed and tumbled through multiple branches before dropping onto his face. He quickly pushed himself up, only to find his sword had slipped from his grasp, landing several feet away — right between him and his enemy, its plasma edge automatically fading. Another blast was coming. Summoning every shred of strength, Keith sprang forward. At the same moment, the tiger-wolf fired. His hand curled around the hilt just as he hit the ground; he held it up, flat side facing forward, an instant before white took over his vision.

BOOM

…He was alive.

As the scent of freshly burnt dirt and metal filled his nose, he looked up. The mech no longer had a head, only a smoldering neck stump. The laser had reflected, though not without leaving him and the surrounding area a bit blackened. Its body stood still for a moment, then tipped over in a crumpled heap. And who should be watching from the side but Lance, now sporting several bruises. With his non-black eye, he stared at the headless tiger-wolf, then at his smoking teammate still lying on the ground as he caught his breath.

Somewhat sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his head and said with all the nonchalance he could muster, “Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have touched the mech…”

“No snart!” Keith snapped.

———————————

The footage replayed.

One simple, almost subconscious decision, and the machine was no more. So that was how these new Paladins were staying alive. It seemed the Lions had not chosen poorly after all.

“Colonel, status report.”

“Nearly there, sir,” he replied cooly, his hands not pausing for even a tic. “These designs are nearly as complex as the Lions.”

Something between a hum and a growl sounded over the comlink, as if his commander was trying to decide whether he was making an excuse. “Very well. How are they performing?”

“Better than expected.” He glanced at the figures slumped against the wall on their knees. “They’ve captured three of the Paladins, including the Champion.”

“Far better indeed! Have them transported to the main fleet immediately, and send a squadron to collect their—”

“However, the two that are still on the loose have managed to defeat one.”

This time it was most certainly a growl. He could imagine the snarl on the older Galra’s face as he ground out his orders. “Then take care of them. I want those schematics and as many tiger-wolves intact as possible within the next varga. I trust you won’t disappoint me, Colonel Thace.”

“Of course not, General Prorok. Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa.”

Thace ended the transmission and turned to give the Humans his full attention. Were it not for that SOS beacon, they wouldn’t have come. Three in here, two out there. Numbers might be the best solution. One keystroke was all he needed.

———————————

Keith needed more patience. A lot more. “Walk me through this. You pick up the kid, run back to the village, and then…?”

“And then,” Lance replied, holding up his throbbing, scratched finger, its piece of the glove missing, “the little twerp bites me and I get beat up for it! Like, what did I do!? Ungrateful much?”

It took an inordinate amount of self-control for Keith to not speak his mind, which was filled with mostly not good things. His eyebrow still twitched, though. He knew there was likely more to the scenario, yet as he looked over his teammate’s injuries again, he found himself taking a breath and deciding it didn’t matter now.

“Sit down.”

“Uh, why?” asked Lance snarkily.

“We need to clean that before it gets infected,” said Keith, gesturing first to his finger, then his face, “and deal with all this.”

“Looked in the mirror lately? You’re not exactly winning any beauty contests right now, char boy. Besides, since when do you know anything about—”

“Just. Sit.” He stressed each word by grabbing Lance’s shoulders and pushing him onto his butt.

Keith knelt next to him — pointedly ignoring the indignant “Hey!” — and took out a large cylinder from his storage, placing it on the ground. At the tap of a button on the top, drawers opened on all sides, each filled with expertly organized supplies.

“The heck’s that?” asked Lance.

“Medkit,” Keith replied as he selected a few items. “Don’t you remember Coran showing us?”

“Oh, sorry, I was probably off doing something actually important.”

His expression hardened. “This is important.”

Something in the way he spoke kept Lance from making a retort. Instead, he scoffed like a horse and rolled his eyes, letting his gaze drift to one of the fallen trees. ‘Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like we have magic healing pods that’ll fix me up way better than you ever could. Give me a break. …But I guess if there wasn’t one around, then—’

Tss

“Ow!” He jumped, clutching the side of his neck and glaring. “What was that for?!”

Keith held up a slender object similar to an EpiPen. “Medicinal quintessence. Speeds up healing.”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“Didn’t want to interrupt your important staring contest with the stump.”

Oh how Lance wanted to smack that snide look clean off his face, but before he could do more than growl, a strange sensation began spreading through his body. Goosebumps trailed after it as it converged in his face and hand. They tingled like he’d stuck his finger in an outlet, then his vision began clearing, his black eye melting away.

“Whoa,” he breathed, brushing the now-much-less-tender spot. It wasn’t only his face, either. All his soreness faded, leaving him feeling weirdly light.

‘Good start, but those cuts are still pretty bad,’ Keith thought, brows knitting a little.

Coran had warned about the consequences of too much quintessence on too small an injury, though. Evidently, it had euphoric effect and could become addictive. The old school way it was.

He pulled Lance’s arm close, only for him to yank it back, a confused and offended look on his face. It wasn’t enough to break the older boy’s grip. Within seconds, they were practically wrestling.

“Knock it off—”

“Would you stop wiggling—”

“How ‘bout you stop—”

“Just let me—”

“Over my dead body—!”

Keith suddenly bellowed, “Would you just let me help you?! Please?!”

The desperate severity of his voice caught Lance off-guard. His pause taken as permission, Keith held his wrist in one hand, grabbed a roll of gauze with the other, and began wrapping the injured finger. His teammate watched him closely, a curiosity sprouting in him. The way Keith moved, reevaluating every curl of the bandage to make sure he did it properly, even in his frustrated state, was…odd. They’d been taught basic emergency aid at the Garrison, sure, but this went beyond that. It wasn’t a memorized lesson, it was experience — the kind you could only get by doing the real deal before. A lot. Lance tried to speak, but for once, words refused to form until Keith finished. He flexed his finger and was surprised to find he could move it as if the bandages weren’t there.

“Uh…thanks,” he managed to say at last while Keith packed up the med kit. “Didn’t think you were the type to patch up your rivals.”

“We’re teammates first.”

Again Lance was taken aback. Never had he expected those words to come out of the weird loner’s mouth, much less with so much conviction. For a moment, he could swear they were both smiling just a little.

“Even if you can be a moron.”

And the good feeling was gone.

“Oh, I’m the moron?” he said, jumping to his feet. “I’m not the guy who took on a crazy death machine alone!”

Keith followed suit, stammering, “H-Hey, I was just trying to—” He stopped himself.

“To what?” said Lance hotly.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“What, can’t say it to my face?”

Instead of replying, Keith activated the comlink, silently pushing down the awkward shame in his gut at what he’d nearly said. “Team Two to Team One, do you copy? We just ran into a mech.”

Lance added, “And Mullet’s being a whiny baby about it.”

The idea of maiming returned to Keith, but before the better part of him could remind him not to, something else caught his attention, something far more chilling: there was no response. Lance noticed, too. No snarky retort, no tired lecture, just silence.

“Team One, come in. Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Shiro, please respond!”

Static.

The boys shared a knowing look.

Dread building in his gut, Keith dismissed the comm channel and accessed the other Paladins’ signals. He growled at the faint dots. “I can barely get a lock on their suits. They’re not moving.”

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said Lance, already heading off. “Let’s go get ‘em!”

Keith grabbed his shoulder. “This could be a trap. We need to—”

Lance turned and smacked his hand away. “To what? Wait around until their signals disappear for good? Shiro wouldn’t waste time standing around while his team’s in trouble.”

Something hot and sharp bristled inside Keith. “He also wouldn’t go charging in with his hair on fire and get them killed. We need intel, a plan — some kind of advantage.”

“Yeah-huh,” said Lance, as if only half-listening, “or we could just blow ‘em up. Y’know, like what literally just happened?”

“That was one, and I barely survived. We could be facing the whole pack here. Look, I’m not saying I like waiting. I’m just thinking like a Paladin.”

“No, you're thinking of yourself because you’re too scared to do what’s right!”

Keith's glower darkened further. “‘What's right’? Like showing up on time? Being there for the people who are counting on you?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Ulgh, are you still hung up about the training thing?”

“Yes. You’ve been leaving us in the lurch all week. This isn’t some game you get to pause whenever you feel like it. If we’d been in a real fight this morning, Hunk would’ve died while you were goofing off. Teammates don’t do that to each other, let alone friends.”

Needles stabbed into Lance’s gut. He hated even the half-second of hesitation in his throat before he spat, “What would you know about it, Mullet? You don’t have any friends!”

He shoved his shoulder into Keith’s as he stormed past. The older boy barely felt it, though.

“You don't have any friends!”

“Ha! Why would anyone wanna be friends with you?”

“Freaks don't get to have friends.”

He clenched his hand to keep it from shaking. ‘Good to know.’

His ear twitched toward the sound of a hoverboard taking off, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lance vanish over the treetops. The breeze was mockingly gentle as Keith stood there, unmoving. Then, with a slightly strangled cry, he tore off his helmet and threw it against a low ridge with a crack! He glared as it rolled back to him, and snatched it from the ground, pulling back to do it again when a crumbling sound reached him.

Where his helmet had struck, vines, dirt, and moss fell away, allowing something to peek out from underneath. At first, they only looked like scratches, but as he drew closer, they formed patterns. Keith brushed aside the remaining gunk, and re-donning his helmet, he began to read.

“Stupid Mullet-head. ‘Friends don’t do thaaat.’ Tch, gimme a break. Not like he's ever done anything for me or anyone else.” Lance wove between two trees that stood above the rest, gripping his board just as he had during those summers when surfing was his entire life. His eyes lingered on it. “...‘Cept getting us a bunch of...really cool hoverboards…” He shook his head. “But he was totally just showing off! Besides, he was keeping ‘em secret at first, so still, not cool.”

By the end of his rant, the broken bubble domes came into view, and he steered toward them. Thanks to his aerial view, he spotted the hole quickly and set down next to it. The cavern gaped before him like the mouth of a giant snake, his whistle echoing for what felt like ages.

“O-kay,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he straightened from leaning over the dark pit, “which rescue method should we use today? Hmm, maybe the classic ‘fighting to the heart of the hoard’? Ooh! Or maybe the ‘suave negotiator pulling a con’? The damsel model doesn’t really work here, but if I switch up some things...”

His boisterous musing filled the old greenhouse, drowning the faint rustle of leaves just beyond its bounds. A shadow emerged.

“Of course, that all depends on if this Galra’s a lady, but if she is, hoo-hoo boy. I can’t wait to rub this in Mullet’s stupid face—”

DEET DEET DEET

“Eh?” The radar? Why—

A hushed growl was his only warning.

Lance leapt to the side with a yelp, aided by his booster pack, mere inches from the tiger-wolf’s fangs and claws, tumbling to a stop a few feet away.

“But I guess surviving’s fine for now!”

He drew his blaster and fired a quick burst; they did little more than scratch the mech’s paint. It let out a series of low chuffs, as if laughing at him. There was barely a second for Lance to grind his teeth before light began building in its mouth. Running suddenly became very appealing.

The beam tore through the wall behind him, sending a torrent of glass shards falling onto his head. He threw up his shield and sent a few shots back, but being one-handed, they were clumsy. The attempt appeared to offend it, though, and it lunged. Again he boosted out of the way, allowing the mech to bite the trunk of a tall tree, splintering a chunk of it.

Lance rolled into a crouch and turned, his rifle primed, just in time to see the massive plant tipping toward him. “Ohhh quiznack!”

He scrambled out of the way — but not fast enough. The gnarled branches caught him in their web, pinning him to the ground. As he strained to free himself, there came a sound of metal paws on wood.

‘Wait, this is perfect! When it comes down, I’ll have a clean shot and—’

His hands were empty. Since when were his hands empty!? Frantically, he looked around, and spotted his dormant bayard — several feet away. There was no time. In mere moments, the tiger-wolf appeared, leaping over the branches. A shrill cry tore from Lance’s throat; he curled in on himself, arms over his head. Its roar echoed in his ears.

“AAAAHHHHHH!!!”

That...wasn't the mech.

In fact, its shadow was suddenly gone, replaced by loud thuds, snarling, and growling. He detangled himself and looked to the side. Past the coiling branches, he could see it thrashing like a bucking bronco with Keith on its back, his arms locked around its head in a chokehold. At first, Lance thought he was crazy; robots don’t need to breathe. Then, as it charged another laser, he understood.

Keith wrenched its head back, redirecting the blast upward. What remained of the roof shattered, sending glass and sparks raining down around the two combatants. In the midst of it all, Keith drew his dagger, and as the tiger-wolf reared back and roared one last time, he sank it into the beast's neck, dragging it from chin to chest, fluid erupting from the gash. The synthetic cry faded. Its body stilled, then collapsed. As silence took the room, standing atop his enemy, coated in its “blood,” was the Red Paladin.

Lance’s jaw was on the floor. ‘...What in the Mortal Combat?!’

Keith’s vision quickly landed on him, and he rushed over. “Are you hurt?”

“Tch, course not,” Lance replied, clamping down his gawking. He tugged at the branches trapping his legs, but they wouldn’t give. “Just gotta—get this—stupid—Grr! Ya déjate llevar, molesto pedazo de basura!”

With a tired sigh, Keith swapped his knife for his sword.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa!” Lance shrieked, flailing his arm in a “stop” motion. “Nope, uh-uh, no! Keep that thing to yourself, Terminator! I can get out of this perfectly fine on my own!”

But Keith was already swinging. Just a few precision slashes and the branches fell apart.

While he stowed his bayard, Lance kicked any residual twigs out of the way and stood, seething. “I said I had it!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Keith replied, infuriatingly calm as ever.

“Oh, right, how could I forget? I’m always the screw-up and you’re always the hero.”

“What? No—”

“Well, I’ve got news for you, cabrón: I’m not some second-rate pilot you can look down on anymore. I am a quiznacking Paladin of Voltron!”

“Then act like it!” Keith finally snapped. “For pity’s sake, you keep running your mouth like you’re this hotshot but the second you have to put real work in, you bail.”

“Better to bail than watch you make it look easy for the millionth time!”

Keith straightened, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Top marks in flying! The best in hand-to-hand! The most broken records in Garrison history! The golden-handed prodigy — ‘best pilot of the next generation!’ You have no clue what it’s like to be stuck at the bottom. To see the top and know that, no matter what you do, you’ll never measure up, and have everyone around you know it, too. To feel them watching you, not because you’re something great but because—”

Lance’s voice broke of in a strange, strangled sort of noise. A hush swept over the broken building.

“Because they’re waiting for you to screw up.”

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Keith. He was half-turned away, his gaze distant, as if remembering an old wound. Gone was his overshadowing presence, replaced by a somber hollowness. It was strange — unnatural, even. His wry huff of a laugh felt wrong.

“Trust me, that doesn’t change when you’re at the top. Then people want to see you fail.” He strode to the fallen Blue Bayard and picked it up. As he turned, his posture changed, somehow becoming stronger, almost taller, yet his shoulders seemed heavy. “Talent without training is worthless.”

His words echoed in Lance’s head, despite how much he didn’t want them to. He searched his brain for some kind of retort, but found none. Still, he crossed his arms and shifted away stubbornly.

Keith’s sigh sounded much older than it should have. “Look, our team’s in danger, and we’re the only ones who can help them. You can go back to hating me after, but just for a few hours, can we not fight?”

He held out the bayard and waited. It took a long, disheartening moment before Lance’s expression softened ever so slightly, and a smaller, more begrudging version of his usual smile returned.

“I guess Shiro would be telling us to get it together about now,” he said.

“No kidding.”

“Alright. You get one hour.” He took his weapon. It was the closest they’d ever come to a handshake.

A tiny breath of relief was all Keith allowed himself before bringing up the map on his gauntlet. “Alright, we should start by checking out the coordinates they were heading to.”

“Why?” asked Lance, doing the same. “They're five miles from there.” A beep sounded; the trio of dots glitched, then reappeared much closer. “Um, make that three. Are they moving?”

“Must be.”

Deep, distant thuds rumbled through the ground, steady like footsteps. They were faint at first, but grew stronger by the second as alerts sounded on their HUDs’ radars. Their teammates’ signals were nearly on top of them. The pair exchanged a glance, then looked around.

“There,” said Keith, pointing to a particularly thick section of foliage pouring onto the floor and coating the glass wall behind it.

They bolted, the older teen leaping over the low branches of a bush-like tree while Lance attempted to slide around it, though he misjudged his momentum and almost slipped. Keith grabbed his arm and pulled him behind cover just as the stomping — which now carried a metallic twinge — reached its zenith. Cautiously, they peeked over the fallen metal and rocks.

Three long, gangly mechanical legs sprouted from the hole, latching onto its edges with finger-like prongs and hauling their body out. Flood lights shone from the front of the hexagonal form of slate grey, harshly illuminating the decaying greenhouse as it crawled out of the dark of the tunnels below. Another trio of legs were at the rear, all six moving with mechanical precision along magnetic tracks criss-crossing across the frame until it was able to walk like a giant insect, and came to a stop in the middle of the room, the lights shutting off.

“Whoa,” whispered Lance. “What is that thing?”

One of the machine’s middle limbs slid to the roof and folded down. A section of its lower body opened, becoming a ramp, onto which strode a Galra — a colonel, if his all-black uniform was anything to go by. Medium-dark hair — or was it fur? — flared up on either side of his head with a pale streak apiece, similar to Sendak’s ears, only smaller. They framed his stern, goateed face as he walked to a spot near the back of the greenhouse, guiding a long, dark, hovering object next to him, and tapping it, causing it to turn upright. The triangular obelisk loomed over the Galra like an omen of death, its smooth, stone-like surface somehow both reflecting and absorbing the afternoon sun. It was as if the world stood still at its whim.

“… eieieiiaaaeeeieiIEIIEEEE—” Lance sang in the warbling soundtrack of a retro sci-fi movie.

“Stop it,” said Keith, karate chopping the top of his head.

Before he could levy a complaint, the Galra placed his hand against a hidden scanner on the obelisk’s side, activating a holo-screen. While it was unclear what he was typing at this angle, his back was to them. A clear shot.

“Target acquired.” Lance raised his blaster and was about to fire when his teammate held up an arm.

“Wait,” he said, eyes still facing forward, but no longer on the Galra. “Bandits.”

Checking his radar, Lance found Keith to be right, unfortunately. Multiple blips were converging on their location. In no time, they arrived, the three that had pursued the boys among them, marked by their battle scars.  The sleek metal mechs emerged from the forest, roughly a dozen in total. The Galra didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his work. Closer and closer they stalked, eyes locked on him, until…

“Gah!”

They pounced.

‘They’re attacking their master!?’ both boys thought, only to hear…yipping?

Yes, the mechs were yipping and chirring, almost purring. The man grunted as he struggled to get back on his feet through the swarm of bodies pressing in around him.

“I thought I’d fixed this,” he grumbled, finally upright. Another mech nuzzled his cheek, and he pushed it away. “Enough already. By the Voice… Go, shoo.”

Sad croons sounded from the tiger-wolves, but they did as they were told and dispersed, though not to where they’d come from. Instead, they milled about, as if appointing themselves the Galra’s bodyguards. A few still stuck close, sitting patiently by his side with wagging tails — much to his annoyance, if his sigh was any indication.

“So…they’re in love with him?” The question felt so wrong coming out of Lance’s mouth, and he was very glad to have only whispered it.

“It’s more like…” Keith zoomed in on the mechs closest to the Galra, raising a brow when one of them began nudging his head like it was trying to groom him with a tongue it didn’t have. “…they think he’s their baby?”

They looked at each other. Lance broke first. He had to put a hand over his mouth so his snickers wouldn’t be heard while Keith pressed his mouth into a thin line, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

After clearing his throat, he said, “Okay, so I think we just found a glitch. Probably from trying to make these guys see Galra as friendlies. But how could we use it?”

“Keep away?” His own joke nearly sent Lance into another fit.

Keith rolled his eyes (though he had to admit, the image of playing volleyball with a whole Galra commander over a crowd of confused machines did make him chuckle just a little). “Come on, real suggestions.”

“Fine, fine.”

As Lance glanced around, his eyes caught the dark splotches of mech fluid on his teammate’s skin and armor. At first, they looked plain black, but when they caught the light, they glinted with color.

“Hey, doesn’t this stuff look purple to you?” he asked, leaning close.

Keith followed his gaze. “Uh, I guess. Why?” Then he noticed Lance’s exaggeratedly thoughtful pucker and chin stroking. He glanced down again at the splotches on his skin. It clicked. “No.”

“Hey, you wanted an advantage. Thought you’d be happy I’m finally thinking like a Paladin.”

If “Patience yields focus” hadn’t been Keith’s mantra before, it certainly was now. His eyebrow was twitching again. “That’s not an advantage, it’s suicide.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean—”

“Then let’s do it!” It was getting increasingly difficult to keep their voices down as their conversation grew more animated. “Look, look, look — you wanted me to trust you when we did those crazy maneuvers, right?” Tentatively, Keith nodded. “Well, time to trust me now. For the team?”

Although he wanted to glare at Lance, whose grin was somehow smug, innocent, and persuasive all at once, Keith found his own thoughts rebelling against him. They might not have time to think of another plan before the team was moved again, much less enact it. This could be their best shot.

Finally, he sighed. “I’m gonna regret this.”

A short while later, as the tiger-wolves kept their sensors peeled for any potential threat, occasionally peeking at their master with nervous warbles, the sound of rustling leaves had their heads snapping around. They began growling, then stopped as the figure walked closer and became clear. Clad in darkened armor, the symbol on his chest hidden, with purple skin and matching ear-like tufts on either side of his head, was Keith.

Keith, who wanted to curl up and die. He didn’t need a mirror to know he looked utterly ridiculous. Changing his suit’s colors had been easy enough, but he could feel the unevenness of the “paint” on his skin, and his “ears” — which were actually clumps of maroon leaves from one of the nearby bushes stuck together with tree sap — were threatening to fall off at any moment. Lance’s quiet giggling wasn’t helping. He was definitely recording this. If nothing else, Keith supposed he could be commended on his creativity, even if it was potentially about to get his partner killed.

One mech stepped nearer, Keith having managed to get the attention of about two-thirds of them. Again the fear of it having a sense of smell surfaced in his mind, as did his backup plan of running should it detect any traces of Human on him. It paused, its eyes glowing a touch brighter. He shifted, prepared to bolt.

Then their tails began wagging. He braced himself.

To his relief, they didn’t fully tackle him like they had with the Galra, potentially seeing him as more fragile given his smaller size. They still, however, felt the need to fake groom him and press in so tightly Keith worried he’d suffocate. Their crooning was a bigger issue, though. With great effort, he was able to pull his arm up from where it was pinned, held a finger to his mouth, and shushed them. Whether the mechs understood the gesture, he wasn’t sure, but they seemed to know the sound, and quieted — well, mostly.

Now for step two. With the same hand above his head, Keith gave the signal. Lance, thankfully sober enough to see it, returned it with a thumbs-up and prepared to move. He’d have to be smart about this; four tiger-wolves remained undistracted.

‘Two patrolling, two guarding. With how close they are to the Galra, it won’t be easy, but if he times it right, he should be able to—’

Hardly two seconds of hesitation, and Lance jumped out from his cover, activated his booster pack, and dead sprinted across the room.

‘Or he could just charge in like a maniac because what the quiznack do I know?’ Keith let out a grunt as a metal chin plopped onto his head, purring.

Meanwhile, Lance was grinning like a kid in a candy store with his mom’s credit card. ‘Flawless victory, here I come!’

With the Galra thoroughly distracted and the remaining mechs too busy staring at him to notice anything else, the teen was free to slip aboard the crawler machine. It had a bigger interior than he’d expected. Multiple control panels lined the walls, and what could only be described as a science station sat at one end. In it was a half-dissected tiger-wolf. It stood, jaw hanging open and half its head plating gone, exposing the skeleton and wiring underneath, a fate shared by the tail and limbs to various degrees, while its torso had been pried open in sections, the segments flared like a twisted ribcage, all of it hooked up to the surrounding computers.

“Yeesh,” said Lance, taking a step back.

A groan reached his ear. He whirled around, and there were his teammates, on their knees against the wall near the cockpit. Their heads were bowed in unconsciousness, but they seemed to be coming to, Shiro most of all.

Lance rushed over and slid into a crouch in front of him, shaking his shoulders. “Hey, hey. C’mon, wakey-wakey, it’s time to go. Hey.”

Shiro let out another moan, then his head shot up, eyes wide, and glanced around. It took a moment before he registered who was in front of him, and he let out a breath.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he said as he shook off the last bit of drowsiness. “What’s our status?”

“Well, we’re in a crazy drilling machine, there’s a dozen-or-so robots outside — not including Frankenstein over there — and there’s a Galra fiddling with the Leaning Tower of Triangles, but I’ve got it handled.”

Shiro nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning. He noted Pidge and Hunk at his side, yet when he turned back to Lance, he frowned. “Where’s Keith?”

Lance’s smile faltered for only a second before he replied, “Let’s just say, he’s otherwise engaged.”

Outside, Keith’s air supply was getting cut off in the center of the tiger-wolf cuddle pile he’d been forced into.

“O-kay…” said Shiro at length. “We have an exit strategy?”

“Yes’sir.”

“Then let’s get the others up.”

While he began nudging Pidge with his elbow, Lance moved to Hunk and, after covering his snoring mouth, leaned in as close as possible, and whispered, “Tofu ice cream.”

Instantly, the big guy’s eyes snapped open and a blood-curdling scream tore from his throat, muffled thanks to Lance’s hand — though he could’ve sworn the room still shuddered a little. When Hunk finally stopped and saw his friend’s goblin grin, he slumped forward, deflating like a whoopee cushion as he gave the biggest sigh in history.

“Can you go one day without giving me a heart attack?” he said once he was allowed to speak.

“‘Fraid not,” Lance replied.

“Uugh, keep it down,” Pidge grumbled, her head flopping up for a second. “Want sleep.”

“No time. We need to move.” Shiro turned and jerked his head over his shoulder. “Lance, the cuffs.”

“All over it.”

He stood and leaned forward to get a look at what he was dealing with. The three’s wrists were bound by standard handcuffs, but their upper arms had larger versions that bound them to the wall via energy cords.

He summoned his rifle and took aim. “Not a probl—”

Electricity tore through Lance’s body. He screamed, bayard slipping from his hands as he collapsed, his friends’ calls sounding muffled and distant. Shapes in his vision blurred together, eventually forming into a tall figure in black armor.

‘Oh, quiznack.’

“At least you were trying to be quiet at first,” said the Galra. He tapped a button on his gauntlet and, with a hiss and the distinct sound of a lock snapping into place, the door closed.

Within the cuddle pile, Keith heard it, too. Mewls and grasping jaws were ignored as he squirmed his way out of the tiger-wolves’ hold, only to watch the machine begin crawling back into the tunnel.

“No!” he called, even though he knew it was pointless.

Inside the insectoid vehicle, Lance drew his pistol, replying, “You make it sound like I’m not trying.”

He barely had time to get the words out before a heavy boot pinned his wrist to the floor. The colonel leaned a tad closer, making the teen hiss at the added pressure.

“Not hard enough.”

Something flared in Lance’s chest at his words. “Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve taken down way tougher guys than you, pal, and FY—” A blaster appeared in his face. “—iee.”

“No! Leave him alone!” Hunk cried.

Pidge yanked at her restraints. “Get off him!”

A growl sounded from Shiro, and on instinct, he ignited his hand. However, instead of a powerful heat to melt the cuffs and take out the Galra, he felt a sharp shock that nearly sent him to the floor. Thankfully, it was brief, though it meant he could only glare at his captor.

“Any use of his cybernetic, or their suits,” said the colonel, his gaze locked on Lance, “will be automatically dealt with by the shackles. Since you’re the exception, you’ll activate your comm and allow me to talk to your other friend.”

“Yeah, y’know, we’re not really friends,” said Lance, trying to subtly reach for his bayard with his free hand — and being painfully obvious about it. “We’re more like business associates.”

The pistol moved to Hunk. Everyone froze.

“Are you inept?” The Galra’s bluntness might’ve been funny were it not wrapped in such a frigid tone, the threat plain as day. “You will contact the fifth, and be silent.”

Every fiber of Lance’s being wanted to kick this guy’s nuts off, or at the very least make a snarky comeback, but the sight of his terrified best friend with a gun aimed at his forehead kept his mouth closed. He made sure to give his best glower, though, as he lifted his wrist and opened a channel via his gauntlet.

“Paladin, I know you can hear me. And I believe you know the consequences if you don’t do as I say.”

There was a pause.

“Touch them, and I’ll tear out your throat.”

A genuine chill ran up Lance’s spine. Never once had he heard such arctic fury in Keith’s voice — which was saying something because he could get plenty ticked. Even his captor seemed a little taken aback, as did his friends, yet their faces also held a hint of knowing.

“A decent threat,” said the Galra, his surprise vanishing like it had never existed, “if you had the means to make good on it. Meet me seven klicks from the intersection and surrender, or your companions’ lives are forfeit. You have two doboshes.”

———————————

The line shut off, leaving Keith to grind his teeth. Two minutes to travel four miles so they could all go down together, and the Lions with them, leaving Coran and Allura to be destroyed just like the rest of their people.

He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Blast it all, I knew this wouldn’t work!’

Metal snouts began nuzzling him again, trying to ease his distress, but only added to it. He shoved them away, saying, “Stop it already!”

Again he wriggled beyond their hold, yet as he did, a terrified yowl rang out, nearly making Keith draw his sword as he whirled around. One of the tiger-wolves was crouched low, staring at some purple leaves. The longer it stared, the more confused it seemed to become, attracting the attention of its companions.

‘Why—’ Slowly, he reached up and wiped a tiny bit of purple off his face, rubbing it between his fingers. ‘Right… The only reason they’re not attacking is…’

A smile pulled at his lips.

He whistled sharply. The beasts straightened up at once, ever obedient. Well, for the moment. In the next, however, Keith wiped off the “paint”, scattered his “ears”, and reset his armor’s colors. It was impressive how robot faces could look downright mortified, though that might’ve been partially owed to the error they were now dealing with, their heads twitching and sparking slightly.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he said under his breath.

His prayer was answered as the mechs’ demeanor changed entirely. They snapped into threatening stances and snarled, the blue glow of their eyes becoming cold once more.

Keith grinned. “Bingo.”

———————————

Lance grimaced. “Barnacles.”

The cuffs moved some, but not enough to be rid of them even as he pulled with all his might. He’d been graduated from laying to sitting, giving him the perfect view of his friends across the room, all of them sharing the same defeated expression. Their odds of escape were dropping by the second, and they knew it.

“Relax, guys,” said Lance, his smile shaky. “This is, uh, all part of the plan. Yup, I’ve totally got this.”

“Uh-huh,” Pidge deadpanned, “and which plan is that? Plan F?”

He growled, about to make a retort, when the Galra said, “Quiet.”

He’d moved to the front of the driller, managing its systems at the main console. His back being to them didn’t make him any less aware of his prisoners’ attempts to break free, they’d found. If only Lance had realized that earlier.

He shook his head. ‘Come on, there’s no way I could’ve known. Besides, Mullet’ll never let me live this down as it is. Just gotta think of something before he gets here, like… Like…’

WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP

Every head perked up. The Galra was swift to silence the alarm, accessing the radar and seeing a swarm of dots on their tail, one leading the others. His eyes widened in time for the machine to jar violently in multiple directions, the legs struggling to keep the body upright. While the Humans fought to do the same, the colonel brought up the feed from the rear cameras. And there he was: the Red Paladin, a rogue grin on his face as he nimbly dodged the barrage of lasers from the pack of tiger-wolves behind him, causing them to hit the driller instead.

The Galra narrowed his eyes. “Clever.”

In the back, contrary to his teammates’ shouts of joy and relief, Lance mumbled, “Aw, snart, he’s so gonna lord this over me.”

Their warden, unfazed, simply tapped a few buttons, projecting a live feed over the machine’s rear, and said, “Stand down!”

The mechs nearly tripped over themselves to comply, as if startled and horrified. He shut it off and returned to the cameras, only to find them devoid of the small, armored figure. Then a thud sounded from the roof. Summoning his blaster, the Galra took up a position just close enough to where it had come from so he could fire without being crushed by falling metal.

Keith was two steps ahead.

He attached his grapple to the roof and jumped over the machine’s side. The line pulled taught and he boosted between the long legs, swinging up and using his other gauntlet’s cable to cling to the underside. With the first grapple reeled in and his boots’ magnetic grav-lock bolting him in place, Keith switched his visor to X-ray. The target was in position. He drove his sword through the hull.

The Galra’s gaze was instantly on the blade carving a circle around his feet. He narrowly avoided falling out with it, and aimed his blaster at the hole, waiting. A tiny white orb appeared. There was no time to react before it flew up to eye level and detonated. Light and sound flooded the cabin; a cry he couldn’t hear tore from the Galra’s throat as he stumbled, his vision swimming. He fought through the pain and stepped back toward the opening — and got a face-full of boots.

The Earthlings shook their senses clear — having been mildly protected by their helmets — just as their fifth member used the momentum of his kick to launch up into the room and land in a crouch, sword ignited. While the colonel struggled to rise from where he’d tumbled to a stop, Keith took stock of the situation, then darted to Lance and severed his cuffs.

“I had this,” he said as he stood.

“Clearly.” Keith jutted his head toward the energy case holding the his bayard and pistol. “Free the others.”

Lance raised a brow. “And you can’t help because…?”

A pair of crackles from the batons in the now-recovered Galra’s hands answered his question.

“Go!” Keith shoved him out of the way and raised his shield as the alien charged. Electricity sparked with each clash, threatening to follow his blade to him should he fail to push the escrima sticks away in time.

Meanwhile, Lance stuck a disrupter grenade on the controls for the case, shorting out the barrier. Rifle in-hand, he hurried to his teammates and began shooting out the points where their arm shackles connected to the wall, and then their regular cuffs.

“Hurry,” said Shiro, eyes locked on the battle.

“Ah, he’s got this,” Lance replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

The captain shot him a look; he started moving faster.

On his end, Keith was starting to get a feel for his opponent’s fighting style — and knew the Galra was doing the same. Every time one of them created an opening and was about to exploit it, the other would find a way to close it just in time. It was a maddening dance, one that was starting to cost the surrounding computers their integrity.

The pattern was finally broken when, as his opponent bore down on him with both batons on his shield, Keith made to stab him. This time, he was the one a step behind. The Galra slipped around his blade, dismissed his own weapon, grabbed the Paladin’s wrist, and used his momentum to throw him back across the cabin. Keith righted himself quickly enough, but the man was already on him. He kicked his opponent into the main control panel, and would’ve brought a crackling rod down on him had he not ducked and slipped between the Galra’s legs with a short boost. Energy arced over the controls, setting off multiple alarms. Though the colonel was quick to remove his weapon, the damage was already done.

“Ha ha!” Hunk cheered, his and the others’ shackles finally off. But once they were all standing, they began to slide. “Uh oh.”

To their surprise, three of the insectoid machine’s legs slid to the front, forming a point, and began spinning, boring through the metal and stone of the tunnel while the rear three propelled them along. Everyone wobbled about, grabbing onto whatever they could to stay on their feet, including each other.

“Fool!” said the Galra, who’d latched onto the edge of the console. “You damaged the artificial gravity!”

“Yeah, he damages a lot of things,” said Lance.

Keith snapped, “Last I checked, we were both breaking stuff!”

They weren’t the only ones; through the hole, rocks and dirt began flying in, nearly hitting Shiro, who was latched onto the floor via his prosthetic’s claws. He raised his shield against the stones as they flew past. Several of them slammed into the tiger-wolf behind him. Light flickered in its eye.

A horrible grating sound filled the air, followed by an ear-splitting, metallic groaning, and daylight shining into the machine. It tipped down unevenly and came to rest on the surface, its faulty directive apparently fulfilled, allowing everyone inside to right themselves. The two combatants immediately locked eyes, ready to pick up where they left off, only for the Galra’s to widen.

Rrrrr…

In unison, the Paladins turned to see, crawling out of the pile of rocks and debris, the mutilated tiger-wolf. Its joints and brain pan sparked with every labored movement, distorted noises coming from its damaged voice box, and when it looked up, its flickering vision locked onto the first target it saw.

Keith scarcely had a moment to dive underneath as it pounced, denting the metal where he’d just been. He glanced at the confining walls of the driller, his teammates being forced to dodge the electrified wiring the mech had torn out of, and the Galra watching them all. ‘Need to change the battlefield.’

When the beast swung around, legs slightly uncoordinated and jaw threatening to fall off, he said, “I’ll handle this. You handle him!”

Before the others could even be confused, Keith turned and jumped through the hole he’d cut. The tiger-wolf snarled and dove after him, clawing manically at the opening until it peeled the metal back enough to follow. It untangled itself from the heap it landed in, looked up, spotted Keith running into the city ruins, then let out a screeching, stuttering roar, and gave chase.

“Why’s it only going after Keith?” asked Shiro, ready to jump down himself.

“Who cares?” said Lance as he raised his blaster. “All we gotta do is take this guy out and it’ll stop. Problem solved.”

“No, it won’t.” More weapons flashed to life as the Galra straightened to his full height and took a small step forward like he didn’t notice. “That mech was already damaged when I found it. There’s no telling how haywire its programming’s gone now. Are you really willing to risk your friend’s life on the chance you might take mine?”

The Humans paused, sharing conflicted looks, Shiro in particular.

Lance said, “Yeah, I’d say it’s more than a chance, pal. Nice try, though—”

“No.” Surprised faces turned to Shiro. There was a slight distance in his gaze, as if remembering something he’d rather forget. “Lance, with me. Pidge, Hunk, keep him here and shut down that signal.”

“All over it,” she replied, already at a control panel.

“O-Okay,” he said, adjusting his grip on his cannon.

Lance gave them a perplexed glance. “Wait, what signal?”

“The one controlling these things,” said Pidge. “The programming’s not permanent yet, so it needs to be constantly ping-ponged between those obelisks and beamed into their brains.”

“Huh. Is that why they’re glitchy?”

“Lance!”

He jolted from his thoughts to find Shiro was already outside, and scrambled to join him. They ducked out from under the driller into the city ruins. They charged through the overgrown streets, looking around for any sign of their teammate, yet found none.

“Where could he be?” Shiro almost growled.

As if on cue, several plasma beams burst through the elongated window of the half-toppled sky-scraper above them, and not long after came a familiar red-and-white figure — the tiger-wolf’s jaws latched onto his arm. The pair skidded to a halt, gaping in shock and horror as, with a great crash! and massive dust cloud, Paladin and mech slammed into the ground.

“Holy crow!”

“Keith!”

Lance and Shiro rushed to their friend’s aid, only for a warbling growl to stop them. From the dissipating cloud shone a pair of mismatched optics, hungry and eager. Quick on the draw, Lance fired multiple shots — to no avail. The beast barreled through the dust and made to lunge, mouth wide as a snake’s. Shiro readied himself to counter, only for it to lurch, nearly falling to the ground. He and Lance leaned around it. They couldn’t believe what they saw. Keith was single-handedly holding it back, an iron grip on its tail. His booster pack at full power, he let out a strained cry, took a wide step, and yanked as hard as he could, twisting around and throwing the tiger-wolf into the building’s side. His fellow Paladins gaped at him while he panted, clearly tired, yet holding himself with pride.

“…Why do you always have to be so extra?” Lance eventually said.

Ignoring his comment, Keith turned and asked, “What are you doing here?!”

“Saving your mulleted butt,” Lance replied rather haughtily.

“We’re not going to let you fight that thing alone,” said Shiro.

“I can handle this.”

A shadow grew behind Keith, optics blazing. Blue sparks illuminated the trails of smoke leaking from either side of its muzzle. His teammates opened their mouths and raised their weapons.

If they’d blinked, they would’ve missed it.

One second, the beast was pouncing; the next, Keith’s sword was in its mouth, sticking through its head and out the other side. Its half-exposed brain pan sparked as it hung there a moment before he tossed it to the side, simultaneously freeing his blade. He wiped the mech’s fluid off of it between his upper and lower arm pieces.

Now the pair did blink, and quite rapidly, too.

Keith’s face went flat. “Are you gonna stare at me any time I do something?”

“When it’s something as insane as that,” said Lance, pointing an exaggerated finger, “I think we’re entitled to, yeah!”

The young man went to roll his eyes, but his brother refocused his attention as he stepped closer, looking none too happy, and held his hand up flat. Keith let out a tiny sigh, dismissed his bayard, and placed his right arm in Shiro’s hold — the one the mech had used as a chew toy. The armor was badly cracked, splinters of Altean metal sticking into his skin.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Keith, taking it back. “I’ll patch it up as soon we’re done here.”

Shiro was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you should sit the rest of this one out.”

His brother balked. “What!? I’ve fought on way worse than this, you know that!”

“Well, maybe I’m realizing I shouldn’t have indulged that behavior.”

“You mean behavior you’ve practiced plenty?”

“T-That’s different.” Shiro crossed his arms stubbornly.

Keith mirrored him. “Really? How?”

“It just is!”

“That’s not an answer!”

Lance’s wide gaze darted between them. ‘Well, dang. I didn’t know these two could argue. Feels weird.’

Before he could decide whether to say something or grab some popcorn, movement caught his eye. “Twitchy!”

“What?” Both of his teammates squinted at him in utter confusion.

“Not me! That!” They followed Lance’s finger to the fallen mech, which was, in fact, twitching.

Shiro swiftly stepped in front of the boys. Electricity crackled in its mouth. What came out, however, was not a single beam, but several (likely due to having its cannon split down the middle), and thanks to being locked in its prone position, all it could aim at was a building across the street: a small skyscraper that apparently had the fortitude of papier-mâché. The lasers ripped through the decaying metal, and at once, a horrible groaning sounded from the entire structure. Then it began to buckle.

“Run,” said Shiro, wide eyes locked on it. “Run!”

They turned and bolted back the way they’d come, yet even with their booster packs, the building proved faster. Its shadow cascaded over them, and within seconds, it was nearly on top of them.

“Get down!”

He threw his arms over the boys, bringing them all to crouch just as it landed. The ground shook at its weight, and a great wind stirred, throwing clouds of dust into the air with a deafening crashing, wrenching noise. As quickly as the chaos began, it subsided.

To their shock, the three were neither dead nor buried, though they’d gained a coating of dirt and foliage fragments. They first looked at each other, then up. Above them, the skyscraper rested precariously against a shorter building, the middle bowing closer to the ground and bearing a massive tear, like the mouth of an enormous monster. The persistent creaking added to the illusion.

“You boys okay?” asked Shiro, checking them over.

“I’m alright,” said Keith.

“Never want to do that ever gain,” Lance replied, “but, yeah, I’m good.”

Their leader let out a sigh of relief, tightening his grip on them a little. “Thank goodness.”

Before they could celebrate, their comms went off.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem,” said Pidge.

“Like, a ‘we have too much ice cream’ kind of problem, or a ‘we’re about to get crushed by a falling building’ kind?”

The answer to Lance’s question came a moment later when a distant rumble reached them. Looking back toward the hole the driller made, the trio saw a writhing mass rise from it, separating into an angry pack of tiger-wolves, all of which were headed straight for them, making them jump to their feet.

“Sick and wrong — that is the sick and wrong kind!” cried Lance, raising his blaster more out of fear than fighting instinct.

“Pidge, the signal,” said Shiro as he slipped into a ready stance.

“I know, I know,” she snapped, “just give me a minute!”

The three knew they didn’t have a minute, but if that was what she needed, then they’d have to make it work.

“So, we have a plan, or are we just wingin’ it?” asked Lance.

Keith summoned his sword. “Like we don’t usually do both?”

“Fair enough.”

Inside the driller, Hunk glanced nervously between his scary prisoner and his small friend. “Ah, you know I don’t mean to rush you—”

“Then don’t,” said Pidge tersely.

“I-It’s just, there’s a bunch of killer mechs—”

“I know.”

“Do you need help or anything, like—”

“No, I need you to—” Her eyes went wide as she finally looked up. “Watch him!”

In his anxiousness, he’d turned his back on the Galra, who was about to take full advantage. He simultaneously rushed forward and threw one of his batons, striking Hunk square in the stomach with a powerful shock. Before he could collapse on his own, the Galra slid and kicked his legs out from under him, then grabbed the teen and threw him overhead, sending him clear through the hole in the floor in one swift motion. Pidge charged, hoping to catch the colonel from behind. He twisted out of the way of her bayard, grabbed her wrist, and dug his second baton into her back before tossing her out, too, right onto her teammate. The Earthlings groaned in their little pile and rubbed their heads. Then the driller started moving — in the opposite direction of the coming battle.

“He’s…running away?” Hunk half-moaned, sitting up as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot.

Sliding off him, Pidge opened a channel and said blearily, “Hey, Shiro? Yeah, we lost it.”

“Lost it?” Lance echoed. “It’s a giant spider-driller thing! How could you lose it?!”

“The same way you lose all your dates!”

“Enough,” said Shiro. “Just be ready to fight.”

Hunk and Pidge righted themselves (though it took longer than maybe it should have) and headed out, the latter replying, “Copy. On our way.”

While Keith was ready to face the charging mechs, a part of his mind reminded him of his previous battles with them. Three on two had been bad enough; twelve on three was a number they wouldn’t survive. A peek at Lance showed he felt the same.

eeeaARROUUUGH

The pair’s heads snapped to the structure hanging above them. Dust and plant parts rained down as its groaning faded. They waited a tense beat in case it changed its mind about doing more.

“Jeez,” said Lance, “that thing could probably take down a Lion.”

Keith grunted in agreement.

The two froze, then looked at each other. Matching smirks appeared on their faces.

“Shiro!” He turned, surprised to hear them speak in unison. “We’ve got a plan.”

A foreign emotion filled him at the sight of the same reckless glint in their eyes. ‘Should I be proud or terrified?’

On Pidge and Hunk’s end, they could hear and see the blaster fire erupt from both sides. They drew their bayards to attack from behind—

“Guys, get your grenades ready.”

They skidded to an unsteady stop.

“What?” said Pidge.

“Your grenades,” Lance repeated. “You brought them, right?”

“Uh, I think Coran and Allura would kill us if we didn’t,” Hunk replied, “since they’re part of our standard equipment.”

“Perfect! Now, just do what we do.”

On the other side of the tiger-wolf river, their teammates leapt into the air on their hoverboards, dodging lasers as they darted up to the corners of the half-collapsed building and back down again. It wasn’t clear why until Shiro came close enough for them to spot the tiny white ball he threw at it.

Hunk clutched his head, his face flushed with terror. “Wait, what?! I thought we didn’t want it coming down on top of us!”

Pidge just grinned. “Not on us. Come on!”

She jumped onto her own board and joined the others, leaving the big guy to wonder if they’d all lost their minds. Eventually, he sighed and followed. Together, they wove around the tiger-wolves’ attacks, planting grenades at every weak spot their HUDs identified, occasionally throwing one at the pack.

“Woot-woot!” Lance dove down to toss a few more on the building the skyscraper rested on, twisting around the mechs’ fire with glee. “That the best you can do, metal heads? Ha!”

“Lance, you’re too low,” Keith called.

“Mi-mi mi-mi-mi~”

His mockery was so loud, he didn’t hear the beast’s roar.

“Look out!”

The world panned violently; he barely registered his teammate slamming into him; he tumbled to the ground. Somewhere nearby — or was it far away? — he could hear Shiro calling Keith’s name. Lance propped himself up, shaking his head to stop his vision from swaying. A sharp cry helped him focus, though a part of him wished he hadn’t looked. Several feet away, a tiger-wolf stood atop Keith, its massive paws pinning his arms. It growled low and long, as though saying it was going to enjoy this. Blue light ignited in its jaws.

‘He’ll be fine,’ a voice in Lance’s head said. ‘Any second, he’ll bust out an awesome move or use some trick and free himself. He’ll… He’ll be…’

“Talent without training is worthless.”

A horrible thought entered his mind: ‘We were never trained for this.’

His teammate was going to be shot, pinned and helpless…because of him. Because he’d ignored the older boy’s warning yet again. And now…

Keith, sensing his gaze, turned to Lance, his defiant glare fading as their eyes met. Then he smiled — small, and sad, and comforting. “It’s been an honor flying with you.”

Something primal shifted within Lance, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He launched himself upright, summoned his bayard, turned, and fired, hitting a tiger-wolf that had been sneaking up on him square in its mouth just as it had been readying to do the same. The building energy exploded, sending it shuttering into a heap. Then, he pivoted and leveled his rifle at the second beast. No hesitation. Plasma ripped into one eye and out the other. The mech’s systems let out a final dying hum as its lights permanently faded, and its body collapsed.

Keith blinked at the sight; not merely the metal corpse (which had thankfully tipped to the side instead of onto him), but also Lance, who still had his gun raised and fierce glare locked on his target.

“Ohh gracias a Dios,” he said abruptly, letting out the air he’d apparently been holding in and slumping forward. “I thought you were a goner.”

Keith couldn’t help a tiny smile. “So did I.”

His teammate returned it, then jogged over and offered a hand to help him up, which he accepted.

“Thanks.”

Lance puffed out his chest. “Well, naturally. Only a sharpshooter extraordinaire could pull off something as insanely awesome as that.”

“Not that I don’t love team-bonding” — The duo looked back to the battlefield; Pidge and the others were darting about like madmen while the tiger-wolves grew increasingly frustrated — “BUT COULD YOU GET OVER HERE AND HELP US!?”

Keith quickly scanned for the grenades they’d planted, and found they lined most every inch of the looming structure. “We have enough charges — bug out now!”

“You heard him,” Shiro called, veering in the pair’s direction.

Hunk and Pidge didn’t need to be told twice. The mechs converged on the five like they were the last pieces of meat on the planet. They didn’t make it far. In silence, Keith and Lance’s movements became synchronized, clearing the path to their escape. A blaster shot to set one up, a sword dragged down its stomach to knock it down; a slash to a leg to destabilize another, a bullseye to its head to take it out. Shiro saw, and he smiled.

Then a rogue shot from a mech hit a set grenade. From all around came the booms of explosions, the marbles having been placed close enough together to ignite those next to them in a chain reaction. Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk swerved with newfound purpose as debris began raining down. Keith and Lance echoed each other with calls of “Hurry!” and “Vamos, vamos, vamos!” from where they were waiting just past the creaking building’s shadow.

They were almost out — just a couple feet away — so of course a tiger-wolf had to put on a burst of speed and lunge for Shiro. He turned, fully prepared to take the beast with him. A streak of blue boosted past. With as much strength as he could muster, Lance swung his hoverboard into its face. It sailed backward into the rubble — and he went with it.

The building came down.

Brutal winds washed over the team, almost knocking them off their feet. When at last the cacophony died down and the final pebbles reached the ground, the four stepped through the lifting haze of dust, coughing and waving away what they could. There was no sign of Lance. Their glance was brief before they threw themselves into digging. Again and again, they called for him. None of them expected a reply, yet they kept a dim hope that he might.

Keith sliced and tossed aside piece after piece of mossy, dented metal and choking greenery with all his might. ‘He was near the edge, so he should be close. But even if we do find him…’ He shook his head, banishing the thought. ‘No. He’s going to be fine. Just have to keep going, keep looking until—’

A glimpse of blue and white.

“Over here!”

The others were beside him in a flash. With each slab overturned and tangle of branches torn off, more of Lance was revealed, though his lower half remained trapped beneath an especially large chunk. Hunk and Shiro lifted it, allowing Pidge and Keith to grab his arms and pull him free, the latter leaning him against a small pile of debris while the others let the slab go and formed a semi-circle around their friend. Hairline cracks marred his once-pristine armor, igniting fears of his bones looking much the same, to say nothing of the undoubtedly extensive bruising.

Tentatively, Hunk shook his shoulder. “Lance? Buddy, you there?”

He didn’t stir. Hunk drew back, his expression stricken. Keith gripped Lance’s arms and jostled him as hard as he dared.

“Lance, wake up,” he said. “That’s an order!”

He waited. His guts clenched and twisted in a horrible way.

“…Still don’ get to give me orders.”

The group let out a collective breath as blue eyes cracked open and a tiny, impish smile appeared on Lance’s lips.

“Don’t do that to us!” said Pidge, punching his arm. He chuckled through his wince.

Hunk placed a hand over his chest. “Seriously. I don’t think my heart can take this kind of stress, bro.”

Still bleary, Lance’s eyes wandered over his teammates’ relieved faces, then up to the crumpled skyscraper. “Did we…?”

“Yeah, we did it. Thanks to you,” Keith replied, offering a hand. Grateful, he took it, though merely sitting up made him hiss.

“We did it…” Lance met his teammate’s gaze, his smile growing just a little. “Guess we are a good team.”

Keith blinked, then smiled, too. “Guess so.”

It was shared by Shiro as he put his hands on his hips and proudly said, “I never doubted.”

Pidge slid up beside him. “Um, yeah, you did.”

His expression went taut. “Wh—No, no, that was you two. I wouldn’t!”

“Yeah, you would,” said Lance and Keith as they stood, the younger boy’s arm slung around the older’s shoulders.

“Sorry, man,” Hunk chimed in, “but you did use the word ‘probably.’”

Absolutely stricken, Shiro glanced around at his team, then crossed his arms. “Okay, new rule: you all aren’t allowed to gang up on me.”

Laughter rippled through their little crew, warm as the afternoon sun bathing the land. What resounded back across it was far less friendly, however. At once, they tensed. As the howl faded, many more tiger-wolves emerged from all around the city ruins — a pack at least twice the size of the last one.

Hunk looked like he wanted to strangle something. “How many of these things did the Kebbali make? And when did they call for backup?”

“Alright, who’s up for more tower tipping?” said Lance, raising his free hand.

Snarls and growls kept anyone from laughing again. Despite only three of the Paladins currently having the ability to draw their weapons, all five readied themselves to fight. But then came a new sound. Both groups turned their gazes skyward. Over the toppled building flew the drilling machine, its gangly legs folded up so their engines could propel it into the clouds.

“It can fly, too?” Pidge’s eyes gained a dangerous glint. “I want one.”

The reply was a chorus of, “Pidge, no.”

Once the driller exited the atmosphere, a Galra cruiser emerged from slip-space, picked it up, and jumped away.

Keith glared after it, only for a thought to occur to him. “Wasn’t that thing broadcasting the control signal?”

Realization swept over the others’ faces. They turned back to the tiger-wolves, which were all frozen and twitching. Then, like a ripple in a pond, their optics flickered, they shook themselves off, and looked up.

It was as though the Paladins were seeing them for the first time. Their posture was straighter, more regal, and while their eyes remained blue, the glow was somehow warmer. No longer were they savage beasts, but noble creatures of metal designed to protect. The feeling seemed to be mutual. All it took was a glance at the fives’ armor and the sigil they bore for the mechs to bow in respect.

The team blinked.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” said Lance, puffing out his chest. His friends smirked, some shaking their heads good-naturedly. “Heh heh. What a relief…”

His voice trailed off, a deep fatigue seizing his muscles. Around him, he was pretty sure people were calling for him, yet he couldn’t find the strength to answer as his vision faded to black.

———————————

Dreamless… That was weird. Usually, his mind had so much going on, he couldn’t keep up with himself. He also wasn’t normally this self-aware — or had the scent of old leather and herbs clogging his nose. It kinda smelled like his grandparents’ section of the house, honestly.

A tiny groan slipped from Lance’s throat as his eyes fluttered open. Rather than their little seaside home in Cuba, or even the sleek white of the castle, a drooping ceiling of tan greeted him, warm sunlight pooling in through an opening in the center. He followed the pole propping up the whole structure to the floor. A few small tables rested against the circular walls between thin mattresses and held an array of bowls, pouches, and dried plants. Only one of the other cots was occupied: the one next to him, where Keith sat, focused on what looked like a doll version of Voltron. His hand moved with the same fluid precision he’d shown when fixing Lance’s jacket to stitch the toy’s head back on properly. It was kinda mesmerizing, actually…

“Shiro’s talking to the chief.” Lance gave a start, though Keith didn’t seem to notice and went on. “Once he’s done, we’ll head out.”

‘How does he do that? He didn’t even look up!’

“And you’re here, too, because…?” he asked instead, internally cringing at the scratchiness of his voice.

Keith paused in his work to hold up his arm, the damaged gauntlet replaced by bandages.

“Oh, right. But, wait, don’t you have that healing potion thing? That would’ve fixed it, right?”

He shrugged before resuming. “I took a dose, but Shiro insisted I rest.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Silence fell over the tent again as Lance watched his teammate. After finishing stitching the head and snipping the thread with a pair of small scissors, Keith tied off the end and began reattaching the doll’s precariously dangling arm. Even from the little he’d paid attention to his mom and grandmother’s sewing, Lance could tell it was skilled work. Each stitch was made with the same methodical care Keith had shown when bandaging his finger.

“How do you know how to do that?” he finally asked.

Keith paused. An odd sort of tension filled the air. Eventually, he kept going, replying, “Practice. Didn’t have much money growing up, so…I learned.”

“O-Oh.”

Guilt stabbed into Lance’s chest, making him wish he hadn’t opened his mouth. Even with so many bodies in the house — siblings, grandparents, nieces, nephews — his family had always had enough to go around. The idea of lacking something as basic as decent clothes felt utterly foreign. They lapsed into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet.

Then Keith let out a faint sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Lance nearly shot upright. At the protest of his body, he settled for propping himself up on his elbows as he stuttered, “Wha—You’re—Wait, for what?”

“For calling you a moron earlier. I didn’t mean it the way I said it, it’s just…” Keith ran a hand through his hair, hating how the words he’d been practicing caught in his throat. “You and Pidge — and even Hunk — you talk to each other like that all the time, so I-I guess…” Another sigh. “I guess I thought that’s just what…friends did.”

“Disbelieving” didn’t begin to describe the expression Lance wore, not to mention the second arrow of guilt now lodged in his gut. He was suddenly very grateful his teammate wasn’t looking at him. Teammate…

“You really considered us friends?” he asked, picking at a stray thread in his mattress.

Keith nodded almost imperceptibly, only to draw in a long breath and sit up straighter. “Obviously, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed, and I’m sorry for that. Thanks for setting me straight.”

And there was arrow number three sending Lance back onto the cot. ‘Okay, so my social skills card just got revoked. But he’s so hard to read! How could I have known that’s how he felt?’ Memories sprang to mind: Keith celebrating Chozzerai with the rest of them; him inviting them on the walk which led them to the hoverboards despite his clear awkwardness; forming Voltron and fighting monsters — together. ‘…Or maybe I didn’t want to see it.’

SMACK

“You alright?” asked Keith, startled at how he plastered his hands onto his face.

Grunting, Lance pushed himself into a sitting position, mirroring his companion, who reflexively reached out a hand in case he needed help. He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet the older boy’s gaze.

“M’s’rry’too.”

“What?”

Lance groaned as if this was like pulling teeth for him, and repeated, louder and slower, “I’m sorry, too, okay?”

Now Keith was really confused. “For what?”

“Well, for one, for saying all that stuff ‘cause now I feel like a total butt.” Lance’s face grew solemn in a way he’d never seen before. “But also for not listening to you sooner. You were right. This isn't a game, and I can't keep treating it like it is. You almost died because of me!”

At the sight of his teammate’s slumped shoulders, Keith put a hesitant hand on one of them, saying, “I also survived because of you.”

“Yeah, after you had to save me,” Lance replied with a scoff.

“Well, I still owed you one.”

It was his turn to be surprised. To see Keith smirk — not haughty or mocking, but small and, dare he say, playful — definitely hadn’t been on his bingo card for this year. Or lifetime. For some reason, it made him smile back.

“Dang right you did,” he said, crossing his arms all proud-like. “Now help me outta here. My legs are falling asleep and I don’t want to catch mullet-itis.”

Keith’s brow quirked up. “And touching me won’t give it to you?”

“Eh, I’ve touched you before.” A beat passed as realization and disgust dawned. “…That sounded wrong.”

“Very.”

“Never speak of it again?”

“Let’s.”

“‘Kay.”

With two final stitches, Keith finished the doll’s right arm and put it into his storage, then took Lance’s hand and helped him up. Although there was a moment it seemed he would tip over again, he corrected his balance, gave his signature “No sweat” grin, and the pair stepped outside.

Bronzing sunlight illuminated the late afternoon mist rolling through the vast forest and into the village. The healer’s tent sat near the edge to better isolate sicknesses, so they had a short ways to walk before reaching the center of town, where they quickly spotted their friends. Pidge was talking animatedly to the Kebbali gathered around her while Hunk watched from the sidelines, chuckling to himself by the looks of it.

“…for the last time, there are no spirits, sprites, or any other such ridiculousness at all involved!” she said as she waved her helmet around. “It’s science! Just science!”

“Then how it glow?” a Kebbali asked, daring to inch closer.

“That’s just a result of electrons becoming excited and then releasing energy in the form of light as they cool down. Now, getting back to the mechanics and programming—”

“It explodes!?” cried another villager.

“No—Well, it can, but that’s not—”

“Do it need blood sacrifice?” asked someone in the back.

“Why would it—”

A little boy with a missing tooth raised his hand. “Mother says it steal soul if I no do chores.”

“THAT’S PROPAGANDA!”

Hunk had to put a fist over his mouth to contain his laughter.

“‘Sup, hermano,” said Lance, sliding up beside him, chuckling. “How long has she been going like this?”

“Oh, hey, Lance. Basically since we got back to the village. Everybody freaked out seeing the tiger-wolves, so we had to calm them down and explain th—” Hunk stopped as his brain caught up to his eyes, and he immediately scooped up his friend in a bear hug. “Hey, Lance! You’re okay!”

“More or less,” he wheezed.

By the time Hunk released him, small, angry stomps had made their way over to the guys.

“Having fun?” asked Lance, grinning. Pidge shot him perhaps her nastiest glare yet. “Y’know, I wanna say ‘no thoughts, head empty’ but it doesn’t quite fit.”

Keith mulled it over. “…Violent thoughts, head small?”

She snapped around to glower at him while the boys cracked up behind her.

“You must forgive,” said Durga as he approached, flanked by Arghul and Balthog, a smile of his own playing on his lips. “Our people be stubborn, and sometimes thick-headed.” He shot a look at his fellow hunters, then turned to Lance. “Glad to see you on feet.”

“Hey, it takes more than a horde of killer mechs and a building falling on my head to keep me down,” he replied.

“A-Ah. Of course.” Confusion and concern giving way to pointed sternness, Durga glanced at Balthog and gave him a sharp nudge with his elbow.

The young hunter glared at him a little, then let out a grumbling sigh and looked away. “Sorry we judged you.”

“I not,” said Arghul without missing a beat, much to Durga’s chagrin.

“I think I had this same conversation when I was nine,” said Lance.

Everyone but the old man snickered; his grumpy face only added to their laughter.

All chattering from their group and mutterings of the crowd were quieted at the sound of a tent flap opening. Kebbali and Paladin alike saluted Chief Grum’gorag as he walked out, followed by Shaman Wovek and Shiro. Upon spotting his team at the edge of the gathering, he smiled and gave a quick thumbs-up.

“Brothers,” the chief called, his deep voice resonating across the square, “these quintants have been trying, but at last they are over.” A cheer rose from the villagers. “We prayed deliverance, and the gods sent it. And though it did not take the form expected, these warriors of the stars have delivered us from peril and restored our divine protectors.”

There was less enthusiasm at that part.

Pidge crossed her arms with a huff. “Oh, come on.”

“Durga did say they’re stubborn,” said Hunk, patting her shoulder. “It’s gonna take a while for them to be comfortable around something they deemed forbidden for centuries and spat on — literally.”

“Plus, the tiger-wolves were trying to kill them until a few hours ago,” Lance added.

“Plus that.”

A bald Kebbali took a tentative step forward. “Chief, all due respect, why let Beasts live? Why not kill now before they harm more?”

Murmurs of agreement trickled through the people.

Grum’gorag shared a look with Shiro. The latter nodded and moved closer to them, replying, “I know my word doesn’t mean much to you, but those mechs are more valuable than you realize. The ones who were controlling them could return, and if they do, it’ll be with an army. When that day comes, believe me, you’ll need the tiger-wolves.”

A woman scoffed. “So say outsider.”

Her words were met with great approval, and prompted others to chime in.

“How we know they not controllers?”

“This could be trick!”

“Forbidden things not trustable! Even ancestors knew that!”

“What’s a guy gotta do, get shot—” Lance stomped forward, but Keith held out his arm, stopping him.

The two exchanged a glance, then the young man stepped out just beyond Shiro and said, “Your ancestors are the ones who made them.” A perplexed hush swept through the Kebbali. “And it wasn’t their technology that failed them.”

He ignored the hisses that arose at the word and activated his gauntlet’s holo-projector. From it sprang an enlarged image of a stone slab engraved with writing high in the center of the circle so all could see, making the people gasp and back away in fear, some even drawing their weapons.

“What? What-what is all that for?” asked Wovek, turning his nonexistent gaze about. The chief simply gaped.

Taking a deep breath, Keith read aloud:

“‘As we continue our wanderings of this ruined world, more and more we hear a tale. It speaks of our marvels and achievements, and calls them the cause of the cataclysm. Many believe it.

‘Truthfully, none know when or why the first strike came. All we know is that it began something not even we Kebbali could stop. Borders thought overturned in ages past were rebuilt, and with the spawning of doubt and deceit, not even families remained whole. Brother turned on brother; houses ate themselves; and now we are left to ask, for what? War has no victor.

‘Again we hear the cries of the young to abandon our past — that we should submit ourselves to the will of nature, forgoing all that which once made our name great. A number of them undoubtedly seek only power over those they persuade to their cause, yet there is some truth to their words. So blinded we were by our own brilliance, we made the machine our god, and worshipped it with sacrifices of autonomy. And when our adversaries turned our gods against us, our only thought was to make them suffer in kind.

‘However, they did not begin the war. We imbued our creations with intellect and will, yes, but we ensured ours was always greater than theirs. They were but tools made to serve their masters — and what foolish masters we became. Arrogant, jealous, fearful; it was our faulty souls which ignited the flame that consumed our home. There are none to blame save us.

‘Though we now join our kin in revoking our old ways, we urge our descendants to preserve our story, for there is wisdom to be found in our folly, and if it is forgotten, you shall be doomed to repeat it.

‘If nothing else, remember this: Let conflict not divide you, but build one another up in all things, as true brothers should.

‘Vala’hiem Torlok, Last of the Great Architects of Kebb.’”

A void of silence stretched over the village. The hologram faded and Keith stepped back. No one could seem to muster the breath to speak, let alone find words, not even the most vocal naysayers.

Shiro’s soft voice ended the quiet first. “So, it wasn’t the Galra. It was…”

“A world war,” Hunk finished.

“Jeesh. Talk about awkward family dinners.” The joke hardly felt appropriate, but Lance still smiled, and for whatever reason, so did the others, if only a little.

Slowly, a Kebbali asked, “Chief, what say you?”

As though pulled from a trance, Grum’gorag gave a small start, then closed his eyes to think. It felt like the world paused with him. When he opened them again, he said, “Many generations, we believed the tiger-wolves our guardians. Galra’s corruption twisted them against us — just as ancestors twisted them against each other. We failed to steward Beasts, our people’s creation, and so, we responsible for their acts. Only by the help of outsider allies have we seen truth.

“Hear me! From this eve onward, we will learn our history, destroy the controlling pillars, and protect tiger-wolves as they protect us! Never again will we fear our shadows!”

The roar from the crowd was ear-splitting. The Paladins beamed (for Pidge, it was more out of relief than joy). His choice of words caught Shiro’s attention, though. Flashes of dark hallways and shadowed figures surged through his mind.

As the noise died down, Grum’gorag turned to him, snapping him back to the present. “Thank you for showing us our error. Please, stay. We are to feast your victory!”

Shiro grinned at the second cheer and replied, “We would be honored, your majesty, but we need to get our wounded back to base.”

“Ah, of course,” said the chief with a small, understanding sigh.

“Not even for drinks?” asked Wovek, who was suddenly holding a stein in each hand. Both reeked of booze, earning a step back from the three youngest Earthlings.

“We don’t drink,” said Shiro, holding up his hands and smiling politely. Then he summoned a spare gendopic and handed it to Grum’gorag. “But if you ever need help again, we’re just a call away.”

Although he seemed hesitant, the chief accepted the gift, and the two bowed their heads in respect for one another. After the others said their goodbyes in turn, Wovek performed some kind of wacky dance ritual that was apparently supposed to bring good fortune in hunting, then the five walked back through the village. Where before there were glares of suspicion and fear, now the road was lined with Kebbali saluting and chanting in celebration.

While the others beamed and waved — Lance especially — Keith was busy searching the crowd for someone, and soon spotted her. Little Greshid giggled as she straightened up her new pile of rocks, but just when she picked one and went to throw it, a familiar shadow fell over her hiding spot. Her expression fell with the stone. She crossed her arms and turned away with a pout.

“Why don’t you try this instead?” said Keith, kneeling and holding out his hand.

She looked over her shoulder, curiosity overcoming her frustration at the strange whoosh sound, and she gasped at the sight of the Voltron doll, nearly good as new. Slowly, she took it, marveling at the faded yet rich colors. Keith put a hand on her head and gently ruffled her hair.

“Stay out of trouble, alright?” he said.

In the tiniest voice, unable to look at him as color dusted her cheeks, Greshid replied, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

With that, he stood and continued on, though not before catching Durga’s eye, who nodded to him gratefully. He returned the gesture, a tiny smile growing on his face as he heard other kids behind him asking to see the toy, only for Greshid to hiss at them. Judging by the shouts and frantic footsteps that followed, they’d launched into a game of chase, much to the exasperation of the adults.

Lance watched as he caught up, saying, “Hey, you never give me stuff.”

“Next time I see a stuffed doll,” Keith replied flatly, “you get first dibs. In the meantime, looks like you got your parade.”

“Mm, yeah.” Lance glanced around, pursing his lips and folding his hands behind his head. “Could be bigger, though.”

His teammate’s gaze narrowed. He remembered that look. “…You’re goading me, aren’t you?”

“Pff, no way, I’d never. Besides, that’s only something you do with friends, right? Now come on, hermano, you’re slowing down the pack.”

Keith rolled his eyes while Lance walked ahead. ‘Yeah, righ—’

His head shot up. “Wait, what’d you just call me?”

“Mullet.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-u—No! You said—”

“Sorry, can’t hear you over the cheering, adios!”

Lance took off, and Keith was swiftly on his heels, yelling after him. They raced past Hunk and Pidge, who laughed, and wove around Shiro, whose calls of slowing down so they didn’t aggravate their injuries were thoroughly ignored. Still, he couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the pair finally getting along, even if their way of doing it was a bit more chaotic than he’d envisioned. It suited them.

———————————

“How could you let this happen!? It was a simple mission! If this weren’t your first offense, I’d slice you in half and leave you for carrion feeders!”

Thace kept his head bowed. He offered no excuse or plea for leniency. His dignified acceptance of failure was cold comfort for General Prorok. He glared spears at his kneeling colonel and growled, the veins on his neck bulging.

“But as it stands,” he continued, straightening and turning back to the main screen, “you’re of more use alive than dead. Just get out of my sight before I turn you into mixed meat.”

“Vrepit Sa,” replied Thace. Ignoring the misspoken turn of phrase was, unfortunately, very easy.

As he exited the bridge, his vision drifted to a computer that was doing its best to clean up what little corrupted data he’d retrieved and fill in the gaps, but there were far too many, thanks to his duel with the Red Paladin. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then he headed out.

‘Maybe you are worthy of our attention after all.’