The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Chapter 7 - The Lion Job

The gentle rustling of waves filled the salty, misty air as Arus’s sun peeked over the horizon. Its light cascaded over land, sea, and castle alike, melting away the thin frost coating the waking world. A peaceful quiet hung over it all. Well, most of it.

Within the ancient palace, Hunk’s bear snores rattled both his room and the corridor beyond. His limbs were splayed over his bed in all directions, feet sticking out from under his twisted sheets as he subconsciously scratched his stomach and let out an occasional giggle. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was dreaming about; a trail of drool was dribbling from his mouth, and his belly rumbled faintly.

EEEH! EEEH! EEEH!

He jolted from his blissful dreams, letting out a high-pitched scream and flailing onto the floor. He lay there for a few seconds, hoping the alarm would go away. It didn’t. Then he remembered: in space, alarms mean danger! Throwing himself upright, he lurched for the door, and managed two whole steps before faceplanting, his sheets restraining his legs.

Allura’s sharp voice rang out over the intercom. “Everyone up! Zarkon is attacking!”

Had she not made the announcement, Lance might’ve missed the alarm. He took off one of his headphones with a curious hum, silencing his peaceful sleeping music, and nearly had an eardrum blown out by another piercing EEEH! With a clipped cry, he fumbled his way out of bed, blinded by his eye mask, grabbing his bath robe and fuzzy Blue Lion slippers on the way out.

“The castle is about to be destroyed!”

Pidge’s head popped off her laptop with a startled snort, her glasses wildly askew and hair twice as spiky as usual. She blinked half-open eyes, the imprint of her keyboard on her cheek. She looked around, only a vague idea of where she was with her brain still booting up. Running mostly on instinct, she got up from her cluttered desk and headed to the bridge, her loyal drone Rover keeping her from tipping over mid-stride.

“Go, go, go! We need Voltron now!”

The three Humans scrambled down the hallways, nearly running into and tripping over each other. None of them wondered about the lack of shaking or explosions.

“Hurry! We cannot survive much longer!”

“You have to sell it a bit more.” Swapping places with Allura at the holo-screen, Coran cleared his throat and — much to her and her father’s disturbed shock — yelled with all his might, “Oh no! Allura’s dead! Ahh, it’s horrible! Her head fell off!” He dropped to his knees, fully invested in his show. “W-Wait, her severed head is trying to speak to me! What is it, Allura’s head? What are your final words?”

She glanced across the room. “Coran…”

“Oh, yes, Princess, I’m listening,” he went on, crocodile tears in his eyes.

The alarm shut off. “It is over.”

“Ah, I know! Agh, if only Voltron had been formed!” Turning around, he finally noticed the trio standing behind him and hopped to his feet. “Time!”

“I’m guessing this isn’t an actual attack,” said Lance, adjusting the eye mask on his forehead, inadvertently making his hair stick up even more and smudging his overnight face cream.

“And for that, you should be grateful, because it took you” — Allura looked over — “Coran?”

“Seventy-five degrees.” Father and daughter raised an eyebrow; Coran tilted the device in his hand to the side. “Oh, sorry, no, this is a thermometer.”

Allura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “However long it was, it was too long.”

“Unfortunately, I must concur,” said Alfor as he stepped forward. “You must always be ready for battle, and this test has revealed we have much to work on in that regard.”

“I dunno know if I like them better or worse now that they’re working together,” Hunk muttered to Lance, who hummed in reply, still bleary-eyed.

“Honestly, look at yourselves,” Allura continued, scrutinizing the boys’ disheveled clothes and hair and hunched postures; Rover had to keep bouncing Pidge upright like the world’s slowest paddle ball. They all looked ready to fall asleep on the spot. “Where are your uniforms? Where are your bayards? …And where are Keith and Shiro?”

Confused glances passed around the room as everyone realized they were two members short.

Pidge then spotted something around Lance’s neck. “Are those my headphones?”

He looked away and whistled innocently.

After concentrating for a moment, Alfor said, “The security logs indicate they left early this morning.”

“What? To go where?” asked Allura.

———————————

Far across the jade Arusian fields, with the rising sun lighting their path, Shiro and Keith raced down old dirt trails. They ran by Gazrel Village, waving to the locals as they passed, then over the surrounding hills and back toward home.

“Don’t slow down on me now, old timer.”

“It’s called pacing yourself.” Shiro tried to sound convincing, but his panting could be heard for miles.

Of course, Keith was keenly aware of his fatigue and taking full advantage, falling back and literally running circles around him.

“If you say so,” he replied with an impish smirk, retaking the lead.

‘Oh, you are so asking for it, you little punk.’ Noticing they were coming up on a sparsely wooded area, Shiro got an idea.

He pushed his legs faster, ignoring how they burned, and managed to come up alongside Keith. Very slowly, he began moving closer. Like he expected, Keith instinctively made room. Just when a small creek came into view, Shiro shouldered him into the trees.

“Hey!” he shouted, stumbling through the bushes before correcting his stride. “That’s cheating!”

“If you say so,” was Shiro’s cheeky reply. He bolted ahead with a laugh.

Though he growled a bit, Keith couldn’t help smiling. It had been way too long since he’d been able to run like this, without imminent peril or demanding alien trainers; just the two of them. Plus, it gave him the rare opportunity to exercise his skills.

He could catch up on foot, but it would take a minute. Far closer and faster was a high branch running parallel to the lip of the creek a couple yards ahead. Keith grinned. With a burst of speed, he jumped and began bouncing between tree trunks, higher and higher, like he was running an obstacle course. The second he got close, he leapt. Shiro was crossing a simple wooden bridge now, smiling in victory. At the same moment, Keith grabbed the high branch and swung into the air, arms back, legs tucked. It was as if time slowed down. The duo’s eyes met; one gaping in disbelief, the other with the smuggest grin to ever exist. Keith cleared the creek easily. He rolled as he landed and sprang up, reclaiming his lead.

“Oh, come on!”

Keith’s laughter followed them all the way to the castle’s main entrance, where he slowed down and turned to watch Shiro heavily trot to a stop and double over.

“Parkour…” he wheezed between gasping breaths, “doesn’t count…”

“Oh, so now you wanna play rule lawyer,” said the young man. He chuckled at the annoyed look his brother gave him and patted his shoulder. “Come on, old timer, walking to the dining room won’t kill you.”

As they entered the massive doors, Shiro ruefully muttered, “You never know.”

The short trek through the castle proved to be the perfect way to cool down, and by the time they reached the dining room, their lungs and hearts were working properly again. Also upon arriving, they found a rather unhappy Allura waiting for them.

“Where have you two been?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“Went for a run,” Keith replied, a tad confused as he finished moving his jacket from his waist to his shoulders.

“I do not want your excuses, you should have bee—” She stopped. “You were?”

“It’s an old habit we’re trying to get back into,” said Shiro. “Sorry we didn’t tell you, nobody else was up.”

“Oh.” For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, then folded her hands to behind her back. “Well, I suppose there are worse reasons for being absent, so apology accepted. But you still missed the drill.”

“Drill?” Keith repeated. ‘We’re back on that train?’

Appearing next to her, Alfor replied, “We needed to run a test on the castle’s alert system and we decided to test you all as well.”

“Guess which ones failed.” Allura turned to the table. Pidge was tapping a single key on her laptop with a blank, slack-jawed face while Lance was draped sideways over his chair, an arm and leg dangling off. At the very least, they were dressed now.

“And I was just catching up on my beauty sleep,” he whined.

“Seriously?” said Keith. “This isn’t much earlier than we had to get up for class.”

Lance shot him an almost pouty glare. “Easy for you to say, you’re a vampire. I bet you don’t even sleep at all.”

“Eh-shu-shu,” slurred Pidge, moving her hand like a mouth. “No loud. Want shu.”

“Pidge, tell me you didn’t stay up all night tinkering again,” said Shiro in his “teacher voice” as he and the other three joined the pair at the table.

She gave a quiet grumble, slipping down further in her seat. “…Not all night.”

“Guess I should’ve seen that coming,” he sighed, rubbing his temple.

Keith shrugged. “She is a Holt.”

The whoosh of the door opening diverted everyone’s attention to where Coran had just entered, a floppy package in one hand, the other grasping for two trays above Hunk’s head. Large serving bowls slid around on them at the movement, nearly falling off.

“I still think it could be improved,” he said, straining on his toes.

“Ah-t-t-t-t-t,” Hunk replied as he moved the trays higher. “Coran, buddy, I love ya, but we are not putting food goo anywhere near this breakfast.”

“But it would make it healthier.”

“It’s organic. That’s plenty healthy.”

At last, he backed off, albeit begrudgingly. Hunk let out a ragged huff and stood at the end of the table near Allura. He then put the trays down and began setting out the odd cone-shaped serving bowls, along with utensils and plates. A delightful mix of aromas, salty, savory, and a touch sweet, filled the air. The instant it hit their noses, Lance and Pidge sat straight up, their excitement compounded by the exquisite presentation of each dish. Plum-colored fruits were piled high in one, their sides slit to reveal ice-blue insides; cubed bread was in another, strangely green-crusted and smelling of avocado toast; a cut of meat, divided into three segments and garnished with berries held the center of attention, its skin seared to perfection. What alien animal did it come from? The Earthlings couldn’t care less. Its scent was heavenly. There were more fruit and vegetables on something like rice, cheesy scrambled eggs that were red and periwinkle instead of yellow and white — every dish looked bizarre, yet smelled shockingly like home. The Earthlings eagerly dug in. As soon as the food touched their tongues, their faces lit up in pure bliss.

Allura, a little cautious but trusting her nose, accepted a serving of the bread and took a bite. The flavors exploded in her mouth; a wondrous blend of sweet and savory swirling over her tastebuds and filling her stomach with a satisfying warmth. A small, high-pitched hum slipped out of her throat before she could stop it.

Coran’s quiet grunt had her quickly schooling her expression back to neutrality. “W-Well, it is no royal Altean cooking, but I suppose it is good in its own way.”

‘Yeah, sure,’ Keith thought, noticing the way her elvish ears were perked up and wiggling a bit as she continued to eat with barely-contained pleasure.

“Where did you get thish shtuff?” asked Shiro around a mouthful of noodles.

“The Arusians gave them to me,” Hunk replied. “Been visiting them the past few days and it turns out they’ve got a bunch of really great ingredients, like” — He held up a yellow-and-orange striped, macaroni-shaped foodstuff on his spork — “whatever this thing is. Pretty sure it’s a tuber.” He shrugged and popped it into his mouth, chewing happily.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What did you give them?”

The eating slowed to a pause as Hunk asked, “What do you mean?”

“What did you trade for all this?”

“Oh, uhh, nothing,” he said with another shrug. “They said they always grow too much and it goes bad, so they were happy for me to take the extra off their hands.”

At Keith’s questioning squint, Allura gave one of her own. “Do not tell me you think they are being deceptive. The Arusians would never do such a thing.”

“Yeah, dude, lighten up,” said Lance, flicking a berry at him. “They’re farmers, not scammers fishing for your grandma’s social security number. My uncle would give away his his crops sometimes, too.”

Easily catching the small fruit, Keith examined it in thought. The idea of anyone giving so much stuff away without a price made warning bells go off in his mind. But these were the Arusians they were talking about. He’d seen firsthand how simple of a people they were, and how kind. Plus, Voltron did save them from that gladiator mech; this could be their way of repaying their perceived debt. He let out a faint grunt and tossed the berry into his mouth. It looked like a grape, yet tasted like a peach.

As the mice ate their fill, Platt’s bulging cheeks stained pale blue from the fruit he was burying his face in, Alfor couldn’t help looking on with envy. He was very much glad he no longer had a sense of smell, though an odd phantom hunger still plagued his stomach. The sight of Rover hovering around them with curious chirps was a welcome distraction. He was waking up in his own way; experiencing the world without the filter of the hive mind AI the Galra used to link their tech. Alfor looked forward to seeing what kind of personality he would develop. Given that Pidge was his handler, and thus his closest template for sapient beings, he expected plenty of eccentricities.

Just then, an alert pinged through his system. “Coran, the last diagnostic has finished running.”

“Ah, wonderful!” said Coran, lifting from his jealous brooding. “What is the status?”

“Broken, I fear,” Alfor replied, projecting a depiction of the problem above his hand.

Coran snapped his fingers in frustration. “Quiznack! That is the third mega thruster offline. At this rate, we will never get off of Arus before the Galra attack again.” He waved a hand over the table, and a holographic star map of the nearby sectors appeared above it. “Luckily, most trading hubs should have the parts we require for repairs. This one, I believe, would be our best chance.”

With a few taps on a holo-keyboard, a cursor appeared, honing in on a system and highlighting a gas giant’s habitable moon. A massive city sprawled over the surface, comprised of a wide variety of building styles and docking ports. It was like someone had taken two dozen alien cultures and thrown them in a blender.

“Don’t you have spare parts here?” asked Lance.

“Not enough, unfortunately,” Coran replied as he rubbed his mustache between two fingers. “The final battle on Altea burned through most of our supplies faster than Pop-Pop Wimbleton could down nunvill. We could make new ones, but the fabricator is offline as well, and we lack the materials to feed it besides.”

Shiro scrutinized the image. “How do we know if this place is even still there? It’s been centuries.”

“Plenty of interplanetary trade hubs have existed across millenniums,” said Alfor. “They are far too valuable to the economic stability of their sectors to let disappear. In fact, most only grow larger with time, and must remain neutral, no matter the conflict.”

‘Maybe too large,’ thought Keith. ‘Could be walking into a wolf’s den here.’

Leaning forward and adjusting her glasses, Pidge asked, “Could we find information at one of these places, too?”

“Perhaps,” said Allura with an understanding look, “but the castle parts must come first. We should be off soon.”

Keith blinked. “I’m sorry, Princess, did you just say ‘we?’”

“I am coming with you, of course,” she replied, puffing up like she always did when speaking of her abilities. “I travelled through many trading centers with my father before the war began. I know more about them than any of you.”

“I would really rather you stay here,” said Coran, seeming a little rattled. “The Paladins can handle this.”

“It is a trading city, Coran, not a chuupa den. I am going. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Awkward whistles and hums sounded from most of the group; not even Rover wanted to be on the receiving end of her sharp glare.

Lance leaned back in his chair. “Hey, I can’t say ‘no’ to the company of a lovely lady.”

“Well, I can.” Nervous eyes snapped to Keith. “You’re not coming.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Allura sharply.

He matched her glower with one of his own. “It’s too dangerous. Even if you’ve been there a hundred times before, that was thousands of years ago. There’s no way of knowing how it’s changed.”

“Sorry, Princess, but I’m with Keith on this one,” Shiro slowly said.

He briefly fell under her narrowed gaze before Alfor added, “As am I.”

“But, Father—”

“No one is saying you are incapable,” he cut in steadily, “but if something happens to you, repairing the castle will mean nothing.”

Allura opened her mouth to argue, only to close it again as she considered his words. Eventually, she crossed her arms and sighed. “Very well.”

“We’ll check in regularly and call if anything happens,” said Shiro as he got up, to which she nodded begrudgingly. “Alright, gang, let’s grab our Lions and get going.”

Keith mentally gaped. ‘What!? That’ll paint a target on our backs even bigger than Allura’s!’ Before he blurted out his thoughts, another part of his brain stopped him. ‘Shiro has to know that. He’s probably got a reason. Just trust him.’

Taking a breath, he followed the others toward the bridge, the Alteans hanging back in the dining room. Allura watched them go with envy.

“And while they do that, you can help us run tests!” said Coran.

She groaned and slumped forward. Her feet dragged after the Earthlings.

———————————

A few minutes later, the Lions soared out of a wormhole and toward the trading moon. Resting just within the gas giant’s ring, the reflection from its planet stained the moon’s atmosphere a deep magenta, contrasting the turquoise and teal of its rocky surface. Upon nearing, they spotted the twinkling lights of a city leagues bigger than the one they’d been shown, proving Alfor’s assumption correct. You could fit New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia inside and have room to spare!

 Hundreds of streams of ships — personal cruisers, freight liners, and public transports alike — flowed to and from the hub in neat, angled lanes, turning the skyline into a veritable beehive. Hanging in orbit were three small stations arranged in a triangle. Control stations, most likely, to manage the flood of ships and guide them to docking ports on the surface.

Keith flexed his fingers over the control sticks. ‘Gonna be hard to get the Lions down there without anyone noticing. Their scanners may have picked us up already.’

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

“Uh, we roll up and get the parts, duh.”

“Not talking to you.” He ignored Lance’s offended squawk. “Shiro?”

His brother replied, “Um, basically what Lance said. We’ll find the vendor with what we need and buy it.”

His use of the word “vendor” nearly made Keith face-palm. “In our Lions and full armor?”

“Should we not?” asked Hunk. Even Pidge gave him a confused look.

“Walking around like this is the same as holding up a neon sign that says ‘mug me.’”

“Cool your jets, Mullet Man,” said Lance, knocking Blue’s tail into Red’s head. “It’s shopping, not an arms deal. Quit being so paranoid.”

“It’s called ‘using your head.’ You should try it sometime.”

“I think what he means is,” said Shiro, seeing the signs of retaliation brewing, “being suspicious of everyone won’t help us make allies. We may need to come here again, so having good relations with these people is a priority.”

Keith mulled it over. Shiro was right, of course, but blindly trusting everyone was a recipe for disaster, too. Just because there weren’t Galra there didn’t mean they should let their guard down.

“We should still have a contingency plan,” he said as they drew ever closer to the city.

Pidge smirked wryly. “Like what, a bunch of bombs?”

“Yeah, you guys see any cliffs we can fly a hoverbike off of nearby?” Lance made a show of looking around really hard, earning laughter from the others. Keith just glared flatly. A beep on their consoles sobered them.

“Attention crafts, state your business,” said a man over the comms, who sounded like he’d been there since midnight and would rather be anywhere else. Other voices chattered in the background, equally unenthused.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. ‘Business, not ID. They don’t care who’s coming in, just if they can pay.’

Shiro cleared his throat and answered, “We’re looking for ship parts. Do you know where we could—”

“Yeah, yeah, head to docking platform VV-X3.”

“Thanks,” he tried to say, but the line had already cut.

“Rude,” Lance scoffed.

“Is that close to where Coran said the mechanic district would be?” asked Hunk as their designated lane and landing zone became highlighted on their screens in a data burst from the control station.

“Uh, kinda,” Pidge replied, overlaying the map they’d been given onto the sprawling cityscape before them. “But everything’s moved around so much, I can’t tell. Looks like some of the buildings aren’t even here anymore.”

Shiro said, “Let’s get situated and ask around. Hopefully, the locals can help.”

They joined the flow of traffic (some ships sent digital honks for cutting them off) and followed it to one of several towers that appeared to be modeled after the tall rock formations just outside the city limits. Layer upon layer of levels were set in rings around a central column, each covered in ships: an alien parking garage. They came in a variety of shapes, colors, and sizes, some seeming too impractical in their designs to fly until the Earthlings remembered they had hover technology and were mostly intended for space travel. Thus, the laws of aerodynamics need not strictly apply. Setting down on a clear portion of one of the higher rings, they saw a few scant aliens milling about, most attending to their crafts or moving cargo. Some turned and watched in curiosity as the Lions docked but not all; there were enough outlandish, eccentric ship designs around that they almost fit in. Still, three aliens gave them particular attention.

Noticing the eyes on them, Keith grunted quietly.

“What’s up, bud?” asked Shiro.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he replied.

“Ooh, hey, you hear that, guys?” droned Lance as he unfastened his seatbelt and sauntered toward the door. “Mullet’s got a ‘bad feeling.’ Guess we should just pack up and head home. Can you say ‘paranoid?’”

“I dunno, I’m kinda feeling it, too,” said Hunk, glancing at the more sketchy-looking aliens. “Some of these guys are making me nervous.”

“Hunk, everything makes you nervous,” Pidge deadpanned.

“Yeah, I know, but this is a different kind of nervous.” He peeked out of Yellow’s mouth warily. “I don’t trust them.”

“We’ll be cautious,” said Shiro as everyone circled up outside their Lions. “Don’t wander off, don’t draw too much attention, and don’t touch anything.”

Lance languidly nodded along, flashing back to every family roadtrip he’d ever taken. He paused when he saw Keith in his everyday clothes rather than his armor. “Dude, you brought your civvies?”

The older boy raised a brow. “You didn’t?”

“Uh, why would we?” asked Pidge.

Again resisting the urge to hit his head on something, Keith replied, “So we don’t attract unwanted attention.”

“Whoa, nice ships.”

‘Speak of the devil.’ He and his team turned to see three people walking toward them.

In the lead was a lavender-skinned man, tall and lanky. He strolled right up to the Lions and whistled, his voice strangely hushed and slow. “Don’t see animal builds too often, much less this high-quality. Must’ve taken a long time to put these babies together.”

He reached out to touch Red’s leg, but the second he got close, the particle barrier snapped down with a harsh sizzle.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, jumping back.

“They’re not for sale,” said Keith, a snarl in the back of his throat as he regarded the alien with a narrow gaze.

His sturdy boots bore countless scuff marks and several oil stains. At least, they seemed to be oil. He wore no shirt, just a blue vest, the only spot of color among the rest of his brown attire and white bandages, which were clearly more for aesthetic than actual injuries. Strands of pale hair peeked out from beneath an owlish leather aviator cap, like those in museums and black-and-white films on Earth, its back long enough to protect his neck, as if he expected to be attacked from behind. His eyes were half-lidded and lazy-looking, but those small, black irises moved with the sharpness of a knife in the dark.

In an instant, Keith took the whole of this man in. Sly, searching, and eager to touch what wasn’t his. Trouble.

Hunk was in the same boat, though he lacked the vocabulary to explain why. The guy just rubbed him the wrong way. ‘Maybe it’s because he talks like a stoner.’

“No, no, of course not,” said the alien, holding up his hands as he backed off, a bead of sweat on his forehead. “Just admirin’. Never seen anything quite like ‘em.” He eyed the Lions again. Keith tensed. “But sorry if I got a little too familiar. I’m Rolo. This is Nyma and our cyber unit, Beezer.”

He jutted his thumb over his shoulder. Lance immediately zeroed in on the svelte woman, her fair, two-toned yellow skin making her near-solid eyes of rich amethyst appear even deeper. Four dreadlock-like head-tails mimicked hair, and her scrappy yet well-kept turquoise attire perfectly showed off her midriff, the top covering little more than her chest.

“Hi,” said Nyma sweetly — too sweetly for Keith’s taste.

Of course, Lance was oblivious. A dopey smile spread on his quickly reddening face, a drip of saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth. Swiftly composing himself, he laid a kiss on her hand and gave his best smolder. “Hi. Name’s Lance.”

Likewise, Pidge’s wide gaze was locked onto Beezer. The cyber unit stared back with the single, large optic that was his face and whirred, two bits of metal on either side of his “head” perking up like cat ears. His design was simple: a long, tall rectangle with four repulsers.

“Cool robot!” she said as she began examining him from head to toe. “What kind of processor does he run on? How do his repulsers work. This part looks rusty. Is he old? Does he have a double-modulating system or single?”

Keith finally allowed himself a face-palm at both of them.

Rolo seemed taken aback. “Wow. You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

Pidge shrugged, now sitting criss-cross-applesauce on top of Beezer. “I have a natural curiosity.”

“Well, uh, thanks for the compliments,” said Hunk, moving to put a little distance between his teammates and the strangers, “but we should really get going. Right, Shiro?”

“We should, but maybe these guys can help,” he replied, ignoring how it made the teen tense. “We’re looking for ship parts.”

Rolo replied, “Well, you came to the right place. Banlam City’s got the biggest selection this side of the Chinchillinus Nebula.” Something cunning gleamed in his gaze. “In fact, our boss just so happens to be one of the main suppliers. We can get you hooked up no problem.”

“That’d be perfect, thank you.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed at the men as they shook hands. Although both wore smiles, one was a hair too wide.

Rolo pointed one of his four fingers at Shiro’s armor curiously. “So, who are you guys anyway? You with a guild or something?”

“Something like that. I’m Shiro. This is Hunk, Keith, Lance, and Pidge.” He motioned to each of them as he spoke, then placed his fists on his hips and puffed his chest out a little. “We’re the Paladins of Voltron.”

‘And there goes our last shred of anonymity,’ thought Keith.

Rolo held his chin in thought and looked them over, rubbing his tiny patch of stubble. Then his gaze drifted back to the youngest two. While Lance blabbered to Nyma and flexed his biceps (much to her amusement), Pidge toddled back and forth on her seat atop Beezer.

“Okay,” was the pilot’s unenthusiastic reply as he turned back to the other three.

“I don’t think they’ve heard of us,” said Hunk.

Shiro deflate a little and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess it has been three thousand years.”

“Voltron?” said Lance, pausing his flirting. “Five robot Lions that combine into this big robot…guy?”

“Sounds impressive,” said Rolo politely. “I’d love to see it. Or-Or him. Them.”

“What about you?” asked Keith, stepping forward with his arms crossed. He eyed the blaster pistols on both aliens’ crooked belts. “Your boss is the supplier, so are you the transport crew?”

“Yup,” Rolo replied, the picture of nonchalance. “We deliver goods all over the galaxy, even slipping past the Galra from time to time. Our ship, the Nightrunner, may not be the prettiest, but she’s got the size and speed to get the job done, thanks to a few modifications I made myself.”

Following the jut of his head, Keith examined the craft. “Not the prettiest” was an understatement: it was little more than a squat, hexagonal brick with oversized engines and a cockpit poking out of the front. The light grey hull was marred by a large assortment of scorch marks and dents, and the green and orange paint was chipping off in more than a few places. The most it had going for it was its size. It could probably fit Blue or Yellow in its cargo bay, though Black might be a tall order.

“Have you ever been caught?” There was a quiet barb in Keith’s tone.

“Paranoia,” muttered Lance in a sing-song voice.

Rolo took it in stride. “We’ve had a few close calls but nobody’s managed to get us yet. Don’t worry, whatever you need’ll be safe with us. Think of us as a clandestine import-export business.”

Keith’s brows lowered. “Pretty fancy name for smuggling.”

A hush fell over the group, all eyes going wide.

After a moment, the lavender alien let out a short chuckle. “Pretty sharp, kid. That’s good. It’ll keep you alive out here. But blurting out stuff like that won’t.”

“We don’t make deals with liars.”

The two stared each other down, a silent message passing between them.

“Good to know.”

“Not that we’re accusing you of lying,” said Shiro. He stepped between the two, casting a quick pointed look at his brother. ‘You’re right, but reign it in before we get in trouble,’ it said. Begrudgingly, Keith took a step back. Shiro turned to Rolo, still cordial yet stiffer than before. “We’re grateful for your help.”

“Yeah, mind your manners, Mullet, there are ladies present,” said Lance, shooting finger guns at Nyma with an “Eyy.” Shiro and Pidge rolled their eyes and groaned.

Rolo shrugged. “Hey, we don’t take it personal. You gotta look out for your own. He’s doin’ a good job.” Another glance. “Anyway, if you still want to meet our boss, we’d better get moving. This way.”

He waved them along, him and his crew heading for the center of the tower, Beezer tipping off his passenger as he went.

The Paladins moved to follow when Hunk cut in front and said in a hushed voice, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, are we seriously doing this? Smuggling’s illegal!”

“Dude, we’re fugitives from an intergalactic government,” Pidge deadpanned. “Everything we do is illegal.”

“W-Well, yeah, but…” He trailed off in a pitiful stutter. While the others resumed walking, he slid up next to Keith. “We’re not trusting them, right?”

“Yup,” he replied.

“And you’re okay with this?”

“Nope. But they might be the kind of help we need.” Keith eyed the blaster pistols on Nyma and Rolo’s belts. “As long as they keep their word.”

Hunk straightened his posture. “So, it’s a waiting game.”

“Yup.”

Settling into step with the two teams, they found that the central column housed an elevator big enough for all manner of cargo with a ring of fold-down seats lining the walls. Once they’d all taken one (Pidge opting to reclaim her Beezer chair), the lift began carrying them down to street level.

“So, being as well traveled as you are, what can you tell us about Zarkon’s forces?” Shiro asked, he and the others putting away their helmets.

The smugglers went stiff and stared at him wide-eyed. The Paladins recognized the expression at once: the Balmerans had reacted the same way when they’d invoked the Dread Lord’s name. It was a harsh reminder of how far and deep the Galra’s presence went, and it gave them a coiling, sinking feeling. Not even criminals were free of fear.

Rolo shook it off the best he could and instead replied, “Kinda figured since I’ve never seen your species before, but you folks are fresh off your homeworld, ain’t ya?”

Keith sat a little straighter. Shiro gave single mirthless laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to those who’ve been out here a while.” Rolo paused and thought for a moment, scratching the side of his long, triangular nose. “Well, to answer your question, his command ship — more of a giant station, really — sits smack in the center of the Empire. He mostly calls the shots from there and lets his generals handle the dirty work, depending on who’s closest. This sector belongs to his top guy, Sendak.”

“We’ve met,” said Shiro. Another bout of shock. “How far are we from the center?”

“Oh, we’re way out on the fringes. Not too far from my home planet, actually.” A grey veil fell over Rolo’s face. “It was conquered by the Galra years ago, and I was taken captive. I managed to escape but” — He pulled back a pant leg and boot, revealing dark grey metal in the place of flesh, which he gave a couple knocks — “not before I lost something.”

Shiro brought up his right hand, fist curling with an electronic whirr. “I know exactly how that feels.”

Across the circle, Nyma’s smile faltered slightly. She glanced away, fingering one of her bracelets, her arms tucking in a touch, like she was protecting herself. The next second, she was back to normal, angelic and carefree.

Keith’s eyes narrowed a touch as Rolo covered his cybernetic again. ‘Sympathy play, huh?’

Unfortunately, it seemed to be working on Hunk, evidenced by his saddened stare. A sharp glare from Keith snapped him out of it. Just then, there came a slight lurch as the lift came to rest, followed by a deep ding.

“Guess story time’s over,” said Rolo as he stood, prompting the others to do the same and gather behind him at the door. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want anybody gettin’ lost.”

It was a bit too pointed of a comment for Keith’s taste, particularly since the smuggler’s sly over-the-shoulder look was honed on him. However, when the doors opened and the two groups stepped onto the street, the warning proved to be warranted.

Aliens just as varied in appearance as the towering buildings around them bustled to and fro, their chatter and the myriad of music blasting from unseen sources blending into a cacophony, broken on occasion by small, car-like flying vehicles in neat sky lanes weaving between skyscrapers far above. At that moment, a train came racing by on the monorail hovering overhead, clanking along the old track. The streets had no road, just a massive walkway with areas sectioned off for the flying cars to land.

A thousand different smells wafted from a thousand different stores, some pleasant, many…exotic. Neon signs and screens with adds drowned out the dark sky’s maroon glow, clashing with each other as they flashed in a blinding rainbow of light like they were vying for dominance. The sentiment was mirrored by the dealers, who stood outside their shops and bellowed about their products and bargains. Most of them had the same emblem printed somewhere on the front wall, window, or stalls. It had been on the smugglers’ ship, too, Keith noted; a symbol, possibly an alien word, on a triangle within a circle.

Rolo’s snapping fingers brought the Earthlings’ starry-eyed stares back to him. “Hey, what’d I just say? Keep the gawking to a minimum and your hands to yourselves. Unless someone steals from you first. Then you can punch ‘em.”

He walked ahead, leading them down the street on the right. With so many crazy sights and sounds, Lance’s head was rubbernecking around to try to take it all in. Loud, pumping music drew his attention to a building decked out in a wild paint scheme, blinking arrows pointing toward the door. He might not have been able to read the signs, but he knew a party when he saw one.

“Before we get to business,” he said, taking Nyma’s hand and nodding toward the club, “how’s about you and me have some fun?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied silkily, grabbing his arm and moving closer.

Lance’s cheeks heated up at her touch, and he grinned. He laughed and pulled her through the crowd to the door. A huge, well-built, and well-dressed lizard-like alien blocked their path, his arms crossed.

“Hey, look, man, I know we might not be on whatever list you got, but how ‘bout you cut my lovely lady and me some slack just this once, yeah? One pal to another?” Lance elbowed the guy playfully.

A clipped snarl was the reply.

“Oh, you wanna do this the hard way, do ya?”

He leaned forward and stretched up, doing his best to look intimidating. The alien bent down slightly with a longer, lower snarl. Nyma watched from the side. Before anything could happen, Keith snagged Lance by his collar, his date by the wrist, and dragged them back to the group. Along the way, he spotted Pidge and Beezer running up and down the street, popping in and out of stalls, and all-around creating a ruckus, earning them the ire of onlookers. He promptly snatched them as well: one more by the collar and the other by his extendable tube arms.

“Hey, I had that under control!” said Lance, squirming.

“I’m not explaining to Shiro that you got crushed by Godzilla just because you wanted to impress a girl,” said Keith. His sharp glare moved to Pidge. “Or how you got lost on an alien planet playing hide-and-seek with a droid.”

“I was doing research!” she protested.

“On getting kidnapped, maybe. And, Hunk” — The big guy gave a start and turned from the bulbous slug alien passing by — “stop staring. You look like a tourist.”

Once they’d caught up to Rolo and Shiro, he released the other four, ignoring their glares. Hunk joined them, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Rolo said, “Kind of a buzzkill, ain’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Lance replied, Pidge nodding along. Keith crossed his arms.

“He’s just tense because we’re in a new place,” said Shiro with a hint of defensiveness.

“And you did say it’s good to protect your own,” Hunk added in a similar tone. In fact, he was starting to get the same look in his eye Keith had. “So, how much farther is it to wherever we’re going?”

“Just around the corner,” Rolo said smoothly. “Our boss likes to stay close to the shipyards. Come on.”

They resumed their pace, weaving through the crowds. Lance and Nyma drifted to the back, the former apologizing for the interruption and going on about the Paladins’ heroic exploits — his being the most impressive, of course. She just smiled and giggled along.

Keith’s eyebrow twitched. ‘He can not be that dense.’

“I mean, there are only five of us in the entire universe,” Lance was saying, “so I guess you could say it’s kind of a big deal. And the Lions are just awesome. They fly crazy fast and have all these incredible weapons — really, the entire castle is just insane!”

Nyma perked up. “You have a castle?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied proudly. “I wish you could see it.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad we can’t go. I would love a tour from one of the knights.” She glanced ahead. “But I guess the red guy’s in charge, huh? You have to obey his orders?”

Lance let out an indignant noise. “Who, Mullet? Pff, I don’t have to listen to him!”She giggled as he took her hand and started running back toward the docks. “Hey, Shiro, we’re going back to the Lions! Later!”

‘Evidently, he can.’ Keith glanced between them and Shiro, who wasn’t moving. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”

“I mean, we don’t all need to be at the meeting,” he replied, “and Blue will keep them safe. So long as they can find their way back, I say it’s alright.”

Rolo’s smirk made Keith bristle. ‘Am I the only one who remembers “stranger danger?”’ Regardless, the pack was moving again, so though growling, he followed. ‘If he gets kidnapped, I’m not saving him.’

True to the smuggler’s word, they soon came to a tall, spiral-shaped building, discovering it to be an apartment complex of sorts, and rode an elevator up to one of its suites. The room’s decoration was sparse and classy, keeping to a clean white aesthetic with highlights of gold and soft green. Rolo gestured for them to wait by the door, then walked up to a high-backed armchair facing the opposing window.

Leaning around to its occupant, he whispered, “Boss, I got something for ya.”

“Is it something good?” an accented voice quietly replied in a vaguely sing-song manner. “Because I tell you, if it is not, I do not think I can handle that right now.”

“It’s better than good. They call themselves the Paladins of Voltcom or something like that, and their ships are one-of-a-kind.”

A dark red, three-fingered hand hesitated, letting the drink it was holding drift down onto an armrest. “Where’s your number two?”

“Getting the shipment ready.”

Tink, tink, tink went a small claw against the glass. It sounded like a smile, and it was all Keith needed to hear to know what came next. His back straightened a touch as he faced the armchair properly. He’d turned away upon entering the room, pretending to admire the decor while tilting his ear to catch their quiet words.

For a few seconds, there was silence, making the other Earthlings shift a little in anticipation, then Rolo stepped back and said, “Guys, meet my boss and the king of the intergalactic trade biz, Manset.”

As he spoke, the alien stood and stepped around his chair. The hand he’d been tapping against his glass turned out to be one of four, all of which were connected to a rather rotund body. Each of his thick fingers bore a solid gold ring, but the rest of his attire was surprisingly casual: a simple v-neck undershirt and a patterned, short-sleeved overshirt. Long, fleshy antenna curved from his head, twitching and curling in time with his emotions. Two sets of sunglasses rested over his quadruple eyes, needing only fat folds and his short, beak-like snout to stay in place. Keith’s gaze lingered on the heavy gold chain around his neck, the circular pendant bearing the same insignia as the shops outside.

“Ah, Rolo, you flatter me,” said Manset, patting his pilot on the back before addressing the other four. “Welcome, welcome. I take it you’re here for business, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro replied as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Splendid.” Manset completed the handshake with three of his own while the fourth rested on the man’s shoulder, pulling him down to eye level. After a vigorous handshake, he swept his arm toward the couches, his jagged lips parting in a shark-toothed grin. One of the teeth was capped in gold. “Please sit, sit. No need to be shy, we’re all friends here.”

While the others claimed their seats, Keith stood behind Shiro, noticing Rolo do the same with his boss. Beezer moved to stand next to him, but was startled by Pidge poking him from behind.

“So, tell me, what can old Manset do for you, eh?” asked the stout alien, settling back in his armchair.

Shiro accessed his gauntlet’s holo-screen and pulled up their shopping list. “If you have them, we need these parts. I’m not sure if these models are made anymore, but even near-fits would be a major help.”

Manset hummed as he tapped his double-chin, his antennae flicking in intrigue as the images scrolled by. “Hard to come by, these pieces, and very pricey. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need them for? From what I hear, you flew in just fine.”

“They’re for our main ship. It’s seen better days.”

Manset laughed. “So have we all.”

Shiro and Hunk chuckled, though the latter’s was a bit more strained. Keith could only manage a small huff, more concerned with the two smugglers’ whispered conversation than their jokes — and with their cyber unit, who’d restarted his shenanigans with Pidge.

———————————

At the same time, Lance was up to his own mischief. Having arrived at the dock, he brought Nyma onboard Blue without hesitation, sliding into the cockpit on the main chair.

“Pretty slick, right?” he said, perched on her lap while she sat in the chair rather than the other way around.

“Unbelievable.” Her amethyst eyes were wide with wonder at it all, then she turned to him sharply. “Take me for a ride around the moon?”

Lance blinked and looked away. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the thought of being alone with her for so long, but something deeper in his gut was sounding off a warning.

“We should probably get back to the others,” he replied tentatively.

Nyma sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe Keith will give me a ride.”

And the warning went out the window.

“No—whoa, whoa, hold on a second,” said Lance, haphazardly hitting the controls, even employing his foot to reach a button. “I mean, what’s the point of having the Lion if you can’t enjoy it, right—giddy-up, girl!”

Blue shot off the platform at a breakneck speed, boosting well beyond the city skyline in a matter of seconds.

———————————

The ripple of her breaking the sound barrier could be seen and heard for miles, including through the apartment suite window.

“Aw, Lance,” Hunk groaned.

“Ah, let ‘em have their fun,” said Rolo with a carefree wave. “In the meantime, I’m pretty sure we have about four of the parts you’re after in stock. Another three we can probably outsource, but the other six are a bust. Sorry.”

Shiro blew out a sigh and he nodded. “Well, half’s better than nothing. Thanks.”

The lavender pilot stared a little at his bright smile, then looked away. Keith eyed him, intrigue joining his suspicion.

“Thank you,” Manset replied, sounding genuine. “It’s not often we deal with such honest people. It is refreshing, to say least. Now, about payment.” The broker side was back. “We do offer a first-timer’s discount, even with the extra expenditures of ordering product. I assume you have the proper GAC, yes?”

A pause took the Earthlings.

“What’s GAC?” asked Pidge.

The smugglers shared a troubled look.

“Galra Authorized Currency,” said Manset slowly. “Don’t tell me you came all this way without it.”

‘Snart,’ was the collective thought.

———————————

“Look, a kinetic spring! Let’s land over there,” said Nyma as Blue flew over a long pond, drifting closer to the surface. She’d moved to stand behind the pilot’s seat so Lance could take the reins. “The minerals reflect off the water, making a rainbow.”

True to her word, as the vapor swirled up in the wake of the Lion’s engines, the colors decorated the air.

“Wow,” murmured Lance wistfully. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

He should have been wondering what he didn’t know, like why his passenger was discreetly pulling out a device from one of her belt pouches and pressing a button on it. The center circle began flashing with deep, quiet whoop’s, which she hid behind her back.

———————————

Meanwhile, Manset was scrutinizing two pieces of small, rectangular, pale blue parchment.

“Nope. I have no idea what those are,” he said at last.

“I was afraid of that,” said Hunk, pulling them back. “I think Coran called them ‘groggories?’”

Just then, the same sound from Nyma’s device echoed on Rolo’s. He reached into his pocket and gave it a tap to silence it.

“Well, whoever this Coran is, he’s wildly out of—”

“Boss,” he cut in — with exactly three taps on Manset’s shoulder, Keith noted.

Understanding filled his expression. “Ah, never fails: I’m about to haggle and something comes up.”

“Something wrong?” asked Shiro, joining the red alien in standing.

“Oh, no, no,” Manset replied, “I was just hoping to conclude this meeting before I had to get to my next one. But this shouldn’t take too long, so feel free to wait here in meantime.”

“Come on, Beezer,” Rolo called as he and Manset headed for the door.

The cyber unit immediately stopped playing and joined them, much to Pidge’s dismay. “Aww.”

“Be back in a tic.”

With that, the door shut, leaving the Paladins to wonder if it was just them, or did the smugglers leave a little too quickly?

———————————

On the far side of the kinetic spring, Lance leaned against a tall green onion-like plant, his helmet slung under his arm, and said, “So, uh, you wanna see how fast I can climb this tree?”

Nyma laughed. “Aw, you are cute. Here, I want to show you something. Give me your hand.”

The butterflies returned. He glanced at her open palm, round and soft, and only waited a second before taking it. It took half that time for her to yank him forward, slap cuffs around both his wrists, and then shove them against the plant, causing an electro-cord to form around it, locking him in place. She stepped back with a self-satisfied smirk. He wriggled the bonds a little.

“Whoa. Uh, this is kinda—”

Whatever Lance was about to say got swept away by a harsh and sudden wind. Rolo’s ship hovered down over Blue, incredibly quiet for so hefty a vessel, and used a tractor beam to pull her up into its cargo hold. In the cockpit, Rolo and Manset grinned as they watched the mechanical arms lock her into place through the cameras, Beezer chirping in celebration next to them.

“Nyma, what’s going on?” Lance called over the wind.

“Sorry, Lance,” she replied. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

His heart sank into his shoes as he watched her be pulled up into the craft on a tow line, her formerly soft and sweet smile now mocking and smug. Once she was onboard, it turned and rocketed out of sight, the Blue Lion its prisoner. Pulling himself from his stupor, Lance looked around for something — anything — that could help him get out of this mess, and spotted his helmet…several feet away.

“Ah, quiznack.”

Well, nothing to it but to do it.

He jostled and tugged on the cuffs. Though the cord didn’t break, it did slide. He kept pulling and managed to shimmy it low enough for him to lay down and stretch out his leg. Elongating himself to the last possible inch, he waved his foot around with all his effort. After a few tries, he finally managed to hook his toes under the visor and threw his leg up, launching his helmet toward his head.

“Guys!” he shouted.

———————————

“Hello? A little help?”

Pidge’s fiddling with her own helmet stopped and she sat up. “Lance?”

Immediately, she and the others donned theirs, Shiro calling, “Lance, are you alright? Wh-What’s going on?”

“Well, I’m kinda chained to a…a tree,” he replied.

“I knew it,” said Hunk.

“And I think Nyma and Rolo just stole Blue.”

“I knew it!”

“Where are they?” asked Shiro.

“Uhh, space?”

“Oh, I never trusted those guys, right from the beginning!” Hunk went on. “And I hate to be that guy, but I told you so, I so did—no, correction, we told you so! Didn’t we tell them, Keith?” He pointed to where his friend should’ve been, only to find the space empty. “Keith?”

The three looked around. There was no sign of him.

“He was right here,” said Shiro, gears starting to turn in his head.

“Oh, well, that’s just great!” Lance cried. “The second I need help, Mullet ditches us!”

“No. Keith doesn’t ditch.”

“But where would he—” Pidge froze. “Contingency plan.”

Hunk’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “He wouldn’t.”

The gears locked into place. Shiro turned to the window. “Oh, he so would.”

And he couldn’t figure out if he was more worried about Keith or what he would do to the smugglers. A headache was coming on.

———————————

Just above the planet’s ring, the smugglers’ ship jumped into slip-space. With their course set and no way for anyone to catch them, Rolo stretched his arms before resting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Nyma stood behind him, her elbow on the headrest.

“Almost feel sorry for those Voltron folks,” he said. “Seemed like a nice bunch.”

While Nyma scoffed, Manset gave a rueful chuckle. “Nice, yes. But make no mistake, those people were not Vanguard. Not the one I’ve heard of, at least. I mean, that one guy wasn’t even wearing the proper uniform. Honestly, if you’re going to cosplay, at least make sure everyone looks the part!”

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Keith thought as he leaned close to the bridge door.

“How do you know so much about it anyway?” asked Nyma.

“Bah, old stories. Before your time. Before my time, too.” Manset laughed a little, then fell quiet. After a few seconds, he let out a tired sigh. “Still, I do wish there was a better way to do this. Meeting such decent people truly is a rarity these days. It’s a shame we had to trick them.”

“‘Specially that blue guy.” Rolo tilted back to look at his partner. “You seriously left him chained to a tree after all those goo-goo eyes. That’s cold.”

“If you’re feeling guilty, you can kiss him yourself,” she replied, flicking a flippant hand through her head-tails as she took her seat at the side console.

Manset and Beezer laughed while Rolo’s expression went tight. “They didn’t seem that nice.”

Behind them, Beezer’s giggling abruptly stopped and his “ears” perked up. He moved to the door and poked his head through, sweeping his optic over the short corridor between the cockpit and the rest of the ship, where he could’ve sworn he heard something creak. Gliding further in, he scrutinized all the little cracks and crevices. From his hiding place in the smuggler’s hold beneath the floor, Keith could hear the faint whirr of the bot’s little thrusters. He held his breath as the sound passed over him and paused. Above and below, they waited.

“Beezer!” Rolo’s muffled voiced called from the cockpit. “Get up here!”

The cyber unit took one more look around, then headed off. A few seconds after his hum faded and the door slid shut, Keith felt a small but distinct jolt.

‘We’ve dropped out already? It’s barely been a minute.’ Although, thinking back, it had only taken a few minutes for Blue to get from Earth to Arus. ‘One solar system over, maybe?’

More indistinct chatter filtered through the door. Shortly after, there was a bigger jostle accompanied by the sound of metal on metal. They’d landed. The woosh of the bridge door sounded again, followed by footsteps.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Rolo asked quietly.

“I’m certain I do not,” replied Manset. His chipper tone faded. “But we’re sunk if I don’t.”

“Good luck, boss,” said Nyma.

Beezer hummed sadly as Manset patted him on the head. He then nodded to the three and walked through the outer door of the hall. Once the remaining crew was back in the cockpit, Keith lifted the false panel, checked around, and crept out of the hold. So this wasn’t just about the money.

Rolo was rubbing the back of his neck and wandering to his seat when there came a knock. Sharing a glance with his teammates, he went to open the door.

“Did he forget his wallet?” he muttered. “I swear, sometimes that guy is—”

He cut himself off. The hall was empty. He took a step forward, and instantly felt his cybernetic leg spaz out, electricity sparking off it. There was hardly a tic to stumble back before a kick to the stomach sent him tumbling into the dashboard. Nyma was quick to draw her blaster, but not quick enough to keep it from being wrenched from her hands. A fist landed her right next to Rolo. Beezer charged at the intruder, his extendable tube arms flailing wildly — a grievous mistake. The guy dodged, snared them in a vice grip, and spun him around into the copilot’s chair.

As the trio shook their sore heads, Rolo pulled out his pistol, only for a boot to come down on his arm and a white blaster to be shoved in his face. Keith glared at them.

“H-Hey, pal,” he stammered. “Uh, sorry we didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, um…we were just—”

“Please, please don’t hurt me!” said Nyma with folded hands and wet, oversized eyes. “It was these three, they forced me to do it. You have to believe me, please, save me!”

Keith rose an unimpressed brow. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

She faltered, her facade falling like a brick. “Well, it usually works.”

“Well, this ain’t your usual day. Because unlike my teammates” — He leaned down, resting his arm on his knee and making Rolo grunt at the rising pressure pinching his wrist — “I don’t believe every sob story I hear.”

The two stared each other down again, a very different message passing between them this time.

“Okay, okay, look,” said Rolo, the lax quality to his voice gone, “we had to do it, alright? Tons of our other ships have been getting snatched by the Galra and we’ve had to shut down most of our supply lanes. Customers are losing faith fast. This other smuggler, Xyx, h-he promised to help, but if Manset doesn’t get something valuable to him as a sign of good will, there’s no deal and we go out of business.”

Keith regarded him warily. He wasn’t lying, that much was clear in his eyes. Glancing at the main monitor, the young man examined the hangar bay beyond; dingy yellow lights, a few fighter ships, and a small platoon of nasty-looking mooks waiting for them with heavy blasters.

He looked back at the smugglers. “So, he forced you into a corner and made his move.”

Confusion colored their faces, though it lasted only a moment before it was replaced by stunned understanding.

“That slimy quiznacker!” Nyma roared while Beezer screeched so furiously his reddened optic glitched.

Rolo slammed his free fist against the floor, a thousand curses on his tongue and no strength in his mouth to say them. Very slowly, he met Keith’s gaze, silently asking what happened now. His crew gained similar expressions. Keith took a moment to weigh his options. Then he straightened, removed his heel from Rolo’s arm, and swiped the disruptor from his leg.

“Guess we both got played,” said Keith simply.

The smugglers blinked in surprise, both at how the cybernetic immediately unclenched and was working within a few test stretches, and at the young man heading for the door.

“What’re you doing?” asked Rolo, sitting up properly.

“Well, you don’t want your boss to die, do you?” Keith paused and turned, tossing Nyma’s blaster back to her.

The trio stared at it, then at each other, then at him. Disbelief morphed into a wide smirk on Rolo’s face as he stood, his crew mirroring him on either side.

“I think I might be startin’ to like you, kid,” he said, rubbing his wrist. “What’s our play?”

Keith returned the smirk.

———————————

A bead of sweat dampened Manset’s brow. He was in no real danger, he knew, but negotiating while surrounded by someone else’s mercenary bodyguards in a small, hazy room aboard their ship didn’t exactly calm the nerves. Xyx, on the other hand, was the epitome of calm as he leaned back in his chair, puffing his Chen’ievan cigar. The smoke filled the air with an acrid, almost sickeningly sweet smell. More than once, Manset had to stifle a cough.

Letting out a long, slow curl, the Kythran said, “Do you know why I like these cigars?”

His oily voice made Manset’s antennae curl, yet his smile didn’t waver. “Haven’t the foggiest. Personally, I quit decaphoebs ago.”

“Shame. They really help take the edge off.” Another drag threatened to remove oxygen from the room entirely.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Listen, as much as I love these chats, I do have customers waiting on me, so could we perhaps speed this up?”

“What customers?” Xyx chuckled hoarsely. “That’s why yer here.”

Manset had to restrain his antennae from twitching. “Mostly. But these are new, just came in today, and I would hate to start off on the wrong foot.”

“Hmm, true enough.” Ashes drifted to the floor as the dull green alien tapped the smoldering stub. “Considering how much skin I’m puttin’ in, I’m thinkin’ forty percent would be fair.”

Manset’s second pair of hands tightened on his trousers ever so slightly. Forty percent? He may as well have asked for a hundred! Sure, it was no small thing to provide a dozen more crafts than Manset had before, plus all the security he was throwing in, but forty percent? He must’ve hesitated a little too long because there was a ghost of a shark’s smile growing on Xyx’s face.

“Yer not backin’ out, are ya?” he asked slyly. “I guarantee you won’t find a better deal anywhere else. Not that anyone else would want to touch your products with the reputation they’re gettin’.”

“I’ve hardly sunk that low,” replied Manset with a touch of venom.

“Your partners may disagree,” said Xyx, making his guest tense a bit. “So, do we have a de—”

Wham…

His head tilted at the faint noise. It tilted more at the second, and the third. Soon every head was turned to the door, listening to the vague ruckus.

“What the quiznack is going on out there?” Xyx snarled, every ounce of lightness in his slick voice gone.

Manset shrugged his four arms. As the sounds grew, the Kythran motioned to one of the guards. He nodded and headed for the entrance, only to stop as abruptly as the sounds did. Several tics stretched on, the men exchanging glances. Eventually, the first mercenary continued on, grabbing the handle and—

“Boss!” Nyma and Rolo screamed, flinging open the ancient hinged door and subsequently flattening the guard behind it.

“You gotta come quick—”

“—It’s awful—”

“—Like nothin’ I’ve ever seen!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Manset, waving his arms and standing. “What has gotten into you? Have you been sniffing the hinterbush again?”

“Boss, it’s the Lion!” Rolo cried. “Busted itself out and started tearin’ up the bay! We gotta do somethin’!”

At once, everyone raced out, leaving the pancake of a guard to drop to the ground with a wheeze. They dashed down the short hall and burst into the hangar, their blasters primed and aimed at…nothing. The room was completely intact, every ship and wall untouched. The only things out of place were the men littering the floor, unconscious.

“What is this?” Xyx hissed.

“This” — Rolo and Nyma stepped in front of their boss, their pistols raised — “is us taking back what’s ours.”

The guards leveled their rifles in turn while their leader slunk back. After a moment, one called, “Give it up. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

“True,” said Rolo. He glanced behind them at a flash of red and grinned. “But he’s got you outclassed.”

Puzzled and dismissive expressions passed over the mercenaries’ faces, until the sound of a strangled voice reached their ears. They turned to see Keith with his arm locked around Xyx’s throat and his pistol pressed against the man’s head. A lone, glaring eye was all they could see of his face.

“Drop ‘em,” he said, tightening his hold. His captive let out another gurgling cry and clawed at the merciless grip, to no avail.

Back and forth the men looked. In their profession, bosses came and went, so Xyx kicking the can wasn’t much of a concern to them. Being bested, however, was. In the end, they took too long to decide if reputation was worth the fight; Nyma and Rolo fired stun blasts, each taking three apiece. Only after the last guard’s twitching stopped did Keith let go, watching the greasy-haired Kythran fall to the ground and clutch his throat, gasping for breath.

“Well, good work,” said Manset as Keith walked over. “Now, would anyone like to tell me WHAT IN THE NINE GALAXIES IS GOING ON!?”

“What’s goin’ on is you’ve just lost everything!” Xyx bellowed, lurching to his feet. “I’m gonna make you regret this, you miserable little runt! I’m takin’ everything you own, and then I’m gonna sell ya for parts!”

“Good luck. I’ve got nothing to take, and I doubt I’d be worth much. This, on the other hand…” Keith held his gendopic over his shoulder as he eyed Xyx and brought up the screen. “I had a minute, so I poked through your computer and found quite a few transmission logs. Logs encrypted in Galran.”

Manset gasped, then growled. “You two-timing snarflaf! You’ve been selling me out!”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, huh? Ain’t no coppers out ‘ere. I ain’t gotta answer to nobody!” Every ounce of the Kythran’s slick veneer was gone, leaving little more than a snarling animal in its place.

Turning just a touch more toward him, Keith replied, “I wouldn’t say that. After all, I’m sure your new trade partners would love to know exactly what happened to their cargo.”

The holo-screen in his hand activated its transponder. The full list of clients scrolled beneath it; every single one was selected. Rage gave way to horror.

“H-Hey, now,” Xyx stuttered, “no need to be h-hasty, friend. Let’s all just take a breath, hmm? W-W-We can make a deal. Anythin’ you want, anythin’ at all.”

“Oh, I’m not bargaining.” A wolfish shadow fell over Keith’s face. “I’m giving you a head start.”

One little tap and the message was sent. The green alien’s limbs went slack, and he crumpled to his knees. Manset and his crew gaped a little. Not even Nyma and Rolo had known he could do that. However, they also smiled as Keith drew closer. Their attention was so solid, they didn’t see Xyx’s breathing pick up, nor did they spot the device on his wrist before the cruiser’s alarms began blaring.

“KILL THEM!” he screeched over the speakers.

As if they’d been itching to hear the order all day, a horde of mercenaries poured through the two secondary doors to the hangar.

“Run!” Keith shouted over their yells.

The crew didn’t hesitate, making a beeline for their ship while he charged ahead. Just as the first laser reached him, he slid under it, knocking out the guy’s legs. He pivoted upright, landing three solid blows on a second guard before round-housing him into his friends. He brought his foot down, then turned and flung a grenade into the other squadron.

Several of the first bunch were quickly on their feet and sending out volleys of fire. Keith dove over a rogue crate, snagging its top as he went, and pressed his back against it. He took a breath, waiting for them to move closer. The instant they did, he stood and kicked the container into them. Most hit the ground hard; for those who didn’t, he held up the lid like a shield against their fire and ran, slamming it into the first guy, using him as a platform to flip over, and swung it, knocking a second into a third.

He glanced around. Many of the guards were coming-to already, and shouts from the halls promised more on the way. He wasn’t usually one to care about odds, but he knew his were dropping by the second.

“Hey!”

Keith’s head snapped up. Manset’s ship was in the air, yet it wasn’t escaping, merely hovering. On its side, flat to him, he could see three figures standing at the open doorway.

“Come on!” Rolo called, waving him over.

A burst of energy filled Keith’s veins — and not a moment too soon. Sounds of men behind him spurred his legs forward. There was only one problem: he couldn’t reach the hatch. His sharp eyes scanned over the miscellaneous mechanical tools lying around. A path formed in his mind.

‘Perfect.’

The lid was once again his cover as another wave of lasers came in from the side. Ditching it, he raced up a short flight of scaffolding stairs, leapt between two inert maintenance servos, and then jumped with all his strength. He grabbed onto a docking restraint arm hanging from the ceiling and launched himself across the gap separating him from his escape. Time seemed to slow. The smugglers watched him backflip through the air as if suspended by an invisible thread. Manset could hardly believe his eyes. All at once, it sped up again and Keith flew — thankfully, right-side-up — into the ship, rolling to a stop next to the three who were wise enough to get out of the way.

The door barely had a chance to seal shut before he called to the cockpit, “Go!”

Taking a page out of his book, Beezer swiftly turned the ship and blasted the bay doors with the forward turrets. The second they were gone, Keith pulled out his ‘pic and detonated the other four grenades he’d planted on several of the fighters. A blazing trail followed them out of the light cruiser like the tail of a comet. The calculations were made in an instant, and they jumped into slip-space.

A small jolt cascaded through the ship before it settled. It seemed to break something loose in Keith’s chest, allowing his lungs to work again. He stood and sucked down several large breaths, though they were almost knocked back out of him by dual hands patting him heartily on the back.

“That was spectacular!” said Manset, laughing loudly.

“Insane,” said Rolo. “I’ve never seen anything on two legs move that fast.”

“Eh, it was alright.” Nyma’s smile told a different story.

The three men chuckled, then Rolo asked, “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Keith’s smile faltered. He crossed his arms. “My old city.”

A brief, knowing look passed between the smugglers.

“Well, regardless,” said Manset, “thank you for what you’ve done for us today. But I must ask, why’d you do it? You could’ve taken your Lion and been on your way. Why stick your neck out for us?”

Keith paused. “Can’t exactly trade with a dead man, can we?”

Pleasant surprise colored the alien’s face at the glint in the Earthling’s eye, and he laughed once more. “Too true, too true!”

A short shudder rattled the ship as they dropped out of slip-space, much to its occupants’ relief. So of course an alarm had to sound immediately after. The four glanced at each other, then bolted for the cockpit, and were met by a panicking Beezer. Upon seeing them, he began shrieking and pointing to the main holo-screen, which showed multiple bogies appearing behind them.

“Quiznack,” Rolo muttered, Nyma growling in frustration.

‘There aren’t too many,’ Keith thought. ‘Maybe we can take ‘em out.’

“Ah, yes,” said Manset sheepishly, “I should have mentioned. One thing to keep in mind about Xyx—” A dozen more signals came into range, nearly causing poor Beezer to blow a circuit. “He always has more ships.”

The young man groaned. ‘Of course.’

But this wasn’t the time for complaining; two fighters were already firing preliminary shots. While they didn’t do much damage, they certainly got people’s feet moving, though some went in unexpected directions.

Rolo gawked a little as Keith reached the pilot’s chair first. “Hey, hey, hey—Nuh-uh, it’s my ship, I’m flying.”

“You really want Manset on the guns?”

“I don’t want Manset on guns!” the man himself cried.

Rolo’s eyes darted between the two. He gave a begrudging grunt and took the seat across the small room from Nyma while Beezer plugged himself into the computer to monitor systems and offer additional processing power. As they swooped toward the trading moon, another barrage of green lasers came their way. Keith evaded most of it, but a couple shots found their mark, sending shockwaves past the ship’s thin shielding and through the hull.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Nyma, keeping the radar front and center. “There’s no way we can outrun that many fighters.”

“Not in the open,” Keith replied, “but the planet’s ring should help even the odds.”

“Bad call,” said Rolo, casting a worried glance at the screen as they tilted toward it. “The Zolar Asteroid Belt’s kept chaotic and tight on purpose. Not even the seasoned fliers go in there if they can help it.”

Keith grinned. “Perfect.”

A collective shudder ran through the crew. ‘Oh no. He’s one of those pilots.’

To their dismay, there was nothing they could do to stop him. He barreled onward, snaking around the drifting boulders. Xyx’s men kept on their tail. Some got too close to an asteroid or each other and turned into fireballs; Nyma and Rolo took out several others, while the rest got wise and thinned out, coming around in a flanking maneuver. Keith saw it — along with two massive asteroids heading for each other. He hit the throttle, sending them straight for the closing gap. Manset gripped the sides and seat of his chair with all four arms, his holler growing louder the closer they got. Right before the rocks collided, Keith sent another boost to the engines, giving them just enough juice to make it to the other side. Three fighters weren’t so lucky. Their comrades didn’t seem too happy about it and increased their attacks.

Duck, roll, weave. The techniques were engraved into Keith’s mind. Up, down, and around he slipped past the speeding rocks around them, simultaneously evading the flashes of green nipping at their heels. The chaotic environment served him well in leading several more fighters to the scrapheap. He couldn’t take all the credit, though. Rolo was right: this ship could move! However, a few of their pursuers were starting to learn.

“They’re gaining on us!” Nyma called as her and Rolo’s attempts to hit them also proved unsuccessful.

Keith glanced around, then gunned it toward the nearest asteroid, the enemy close behind. At the last second, he twisted to the side, letting all but two slam into the stone. The remaining pair stayed on the smuggler craft and kept firing. Despite his best efforts, the chaotic spray of lasers pushed them into the path of a few stray blasts. Explosions rocked the ship; warnings covered the dash.

“Rear blasters are offline!” cried Nyma.

“Right engine’s stabilizer is out!” said Rolo. “Beezer, lock it down!”

He beeped in confirmation and sped out of the cockpit.

In the copilot’s chair, Manset looked like he was somewhere between puking and having a heart attack. “I suppose this goes without saying, but we need to get out of here!”

A small growl rumbled from Keith’s throat as three more fighters joined the first two. With a damaged engine, their maneuverability was literally shot, but he knew one more trick he could pull. He pivoted under a large asteroid. Naturally, Xyx’s men followed suit, only to find the space on the other side empty. Their bafflement was short-lived. Completing the loop around the rock, Keith used the forward guns to blast them out of the way. As the ship passed through the fading explosions, a faint hum in the back of his mind caught his attention.

“Nice!” said Rolo, pumping his fist and glancing at Keith. “This kid can flat-out fly.” Then he noticed they were moving out of the belt with fighters still behind them. “Uh, why are we leaving our cover?”

“Keith?” Nyma called nervously at his silence just as Beezer returned.

“Shouldn’t we be moving!?” Manset half-screamed.

More alarms; the fighters were charging weapons again; they were in the open, completely exposed.

“No need,” Keith finally replied. “Backup’s here.”

Three new signals appeared on radar. Just when the enemy fighters went to fire, blue lasers tore through them, easily taking care of every last one. The smugglers gaped at Yellow, Green, and Black as they settled around the cargo ship. Manset’s eyes were exceptionally wide. His gazed drifted from them to the pilot sitting next to him.

‘They really are the Paladins, aren’t they?’ For once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“Everyone alright?” asked Shiro.

“Nothin’ we can’t handle.” Keith looked at the relieved smiles around him, then opened a second channel. “Hey, Lance, I got your Lion back.”

“About time! I’ve been laying here for an hour!”

“Uh, actually it’s only been about ten minutes,” said Pidge.

“Lance,” said Shiro in a nudging tone, “isn’t there something you’d like to say to Keith?”

A quiet grunt sounded over the line.

Hunk moved his mouth exaggeratedly. “You can do it, pal. Form the words with your lips.”

In the most muffled and grumbling voice ever heard, Lance eventually said, “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith squinted a moment, then smirked. “What’s that? I—uh—y-you’re cutting out, I can’t—I can’t hear you. I think the battle damaged the comms. Of course, that could just be my paranoia talking.”

A vein ticked on Lance’s forehead. “Oh, just come and unchain me already!”

…

“Keith?”

…

“Buddy?”

…

“…Muh man?”

———————————

With their teammate at last retrieved and the story explained, the Paladins escorted the smugglers’ ship back to the docking platform where Blue was deposited safe and sound.

“They didn’t scratch you up, did they, girl?” said Lance, rubbing his face against her muzzle.

Eyeing him, Nyma pointed with her thumb, asking, “Does he do that a lot?”

“You get used to it,” Keith replied flatly.

“Yup. But you know what you don’t get used to?” Shiro’s metal hand suddenly came down on his little brother’s head in a karate chop, startling the smugglers. “You running off to do some crazy daring-do without telling us! I was worried!”

Keith rubbed his sore skull, saying, “Sorry.”

A hierarchy instantly formed in the aliens’ minds: Keith outranked them, and Shiro outranked Keith. They silently swore to never tick either of them off.

Manset tentatively stepped forward with a cough and gave a small bow. “Sir Paladin, please allow me to express my most sincere apologies for this whole fiasco. In my desperation, I was deceived, and in turn, deceived you, and for that I am sorry. And as thanks for your generosity, I would like to make you official trading partners. For a start, I can get you the first of those parts, and convert those groggy-thingies into GAC for you.”

A surprised Shiro glanced questioningly at Keith. He nodded.

“I think we’ll take you up on that,” he replied, sharing a proper handshake with Manset.

“Waaaiit a minute,” said Hunk, leaning forward with a scrutinizing squint, “why should we trust you guys now? You’re the whole reason we were in that mess.” He grabbed his friend and held him up. “You chained Lance to a tree!”

Lance barely looked at Nyma before glaring and turning away with a resentful humph. In much the same way, Pidge was staring down the little droid she’d gotten so attached to; the little droid who was staring back with that big, innocent, fascinating optic. She held out the best she could, but all too quickly, the dam broke.

“Oh, Beezer, I can’t stay mad at you,” she half-sobbed, her arms already around him. He chirped happily.

“Is it not obvious?” Manset wrapped Keith in a tight, dual-arm side hug. “Because we’re friends now!”

The teen blinked. “We are?”

“Of course, my boy! You saved my life. I’ll get you what you need.”

“At a reasonable rate, I’m sure.”

Manset chuckled. “Well, naturally. I’m running a business, not a charity here. But I’m sure I could let you slide in on the friends and family discount.”

“Would this discount happen to include a map of the Empire?” Keith asked.

“It could.”

A suspecting smile sprouted on Shiro’s face. “Now, how would you get a hold of something like that?”

Rolo shrugged and replied, “Let’s just say some stolen commodities may sometimes fall into our possession without us knowing about it.”

Detangling herself from the cyber unit, Pidge stepped closer. “Could other pieces of information do that, too? Like, on prisoners?”

There was a particular look in her eye, one Manset had seen before.

“I may know a guy,” he answered, delighting in how her expression lit up just a bit.

“Okay, can we stop with…this whole situation already?” Lance gestured vaguely to Keith and Manset. “Seeing Mullet being all touchy-feely is weirding me out.”

“Would you prefer feeling my fist in your face?” Keith deadpanned.

“Only if you prefer my foot up your—”

“Language,” said Shiro. Lance shrunk back slightly with a sheepish grin. “On that note, though, we do need to get back. We’ll swing by for the supplies when we can properly pay you.”

“Of course. I’ll hold them for you and get my guys on that conversion. Oh, but before you go…” Manset reached into his pocket and produced something similar to a large computer chip, grey with yellow circuits, handing it to Keith. “My business card. After all, it’s good to know there are other like-minded people out there.”

He pulled down his dual sunglasses just enough to show his four black, beady irises. They shone oddly in the light of Banlam City, something hiding in their shadowed hue.

Keith gave a slow nod. “Definitely.”

Manset returned it, then added, “And, you know, if this whole saving the universe thing doesn’t work out, I could always use another pilot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a chuckle and a pat on the shoulder, he at last released Keith, letting him head back to his team. As he watched Pidge and Beezer say their teary goodbyes and Nyma cast a final, cheeky wave to Lance, who stubbornly turned around to hide his blush, Rolo’s face fell a little.

“Hey, Keith,” he called. He took a step forward, causing the teen to pause. “It wasn’t just a sob story I was spinning before. It’s been a lifetime of fighting and running from the Galra that led me — led us — to where we are today. So, can I ask for a favor?” He allowed himself a smirk at the curious grunt. “Kick Zarkon’s butt for us.”

Keith smiled. “Count on it.”

The two pilots shook hands firmly before parting ways. Waving to the small crew, the Paladins boarded their Lions and set a course for home.

———————————

“…And before that, there was the time I accidentally seared half my mustache off! Ho ho, the stench was so bad, I feared it would never come out of my vest.”

Allura let out a long, quiet groan, sinking further against her palm. Though she was happy to help repair the ship while they waited, Coran had fallen into his old habit of long-winded storytelling, as she’d feared he would. Even her father seemed to have begun tuning him out. The mice had given up long ago, and were now draped over various parts of the princess, Chuchule yawning widely from atop her head.

“Vanguard to castle, come in.”

Her back went ramrod straight at the sound of Shiro’s voice, the spare parts she had been levitating with her magic clattering to the ground.

She shot to her feet. “Oh, sorry, I must take that.”

In the blink of an eye, she was halfway down the hall.

“Ah, youths,” Coran and Alfor sighed in unison before following.

Allura reached the control room in record time and practically leapt onto the control podiums before quickly composing herself and saying, “Paladins, wonderful to hear from you. How did things go?”

“Unfortunately, we were only able to find about half the parts,” Shiro replied through the large video feed. “But on the upside, I think we made some new friends.”

“Of course, none of them compare to you, Princess.” Lance’s flirtatious smirk was back, now with the addition of a finger gun.

Everyone else groaned while Keith rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Seriously? You spent all day flirting with Nyma, and now you’re just gonna turn around and pull that line?’

While the others went on to banter, his thoughts drifted back to the smugglers, and the card in his pocket. He held it up and turned it over a few times, examining the yellow circuitry, then placed it on Red’s dash. His silent request was answered by a scan line passing over the card and data scrolling across his screen. There had to be at least a few dozen files on it. They ranged from special docking permits and tips on where to get hard-to-find items to a rough map of Galra fleet movements and intel on which sectors and systems to avoid. However, two files stuck out more than the others.

“Hey, Pidge,” said Keith, cutting through the conversation, “what do you make of this?”

The team fell silent as they and the castle received the information.

“I think it’s a backdoor to some kind of network,” she slowly replied as she opened the connection and examined it.

“Space internet?” said Hunk.

“Kinda, but it looks like there’s a second layer to it. There’s all this encrypted, underlying data that keeps popping up and vanishing. Maybe if I—” One of the external lines of code began flashing. An empty slot at the bottom of the screen did the same. She copied the line into it, and after a prolonged beep, the data decrypted.

“‘The Den?’” Shiro read.

“Why do these guys keep talking about watering holes and dodging birds?” asked Hunk.

“Hang on a tic.” Coran leaned closer to the screen, scrutinizing the transmissions, then snapped his fingers. “Ha! Well, I’ll be a zygote on a chuupa. This is my old code! I invented it to aid the old Paladins, to encrypt their long-range transmission. How in the stars did these people get it?”

“So, can you read it?” said Pidge.

“Quite. And while the style appears to have changed a tad, I can confidently say that these messages are detailing strikes against the Galra!”

Just then, an icon flashed on the Den’s menu bar before opening automatically. Coran quickly entered the decoding cypher into the computer and sent it to the Lions. It was a note from Manset.

‘Welcome to the rebellion, friends. You may find allies here, if you know where to look. But let no one know who you are. The ears of the enemy are everywhere. Until we meet again.’

The team exchanged excited looks. Keith stared at the card in wonder. ‘Like-minded people, huh?’

“Why would a smuggler be on a network like this?” asked Shiro.

“Don’t know, but there’s something else here,” his brother replied, sending the other file. “It’s labeled ‘The Sarrowspawn Syndicate.’”

Inside, they found details of the hierarchy and reputation of five individuals, each at the head of a different branch of the black market: smuggling, enforcement, racketeering, upgrades (whatever that meant), and, of course, the head family. Manset was one of them. The team gaped.

At last, Shiro said, “Huh. Guess that’s why.”

“You became buddies with the head of a smuggling ring!?” Lance shouted.

“Uhh, apparently,” Keith replied, blinking owlishly.

“Beg pardon, you did what, now?” asked Allura with a stiff smile, obviously trying to not freak out.

Shiro sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Actually, you know what, it makes sense,” said Lance. “I mean, what else should we expect from the resident delinquent-hobo-washout?”

Keith raised a brow. “You do realize the three of you are washouts now too, right?”

“Pfft, no we’re…” The teen trailed off, his and his friends’ expressions warping into horrified realization. “…Oh no.”

“My perfect attendance!” cried Pidge.

“Mom and Dad are gonna kill me!” wailed Hunk.

While they continued to freak out, Shiro tiredly signaled for Allura to open a wormhole, and they slipped through.

———————————

From his vantage point in his hotel suite, Manset caught the distant light of the teludav snapping shut and let out a slow breath. ‘Good luck, my friends.’

“Boss, you sure it was a good idea to give ‘em that card?” asked Rolo as he leaned against the armrest of a couch. “We basically tipped our entire hand, and most of the people who use the Den are just folks who haven’t been conquered yet, or the lucky few who managed to escape.”

“And even with all that intel, they still have no idea what they’re up against,” said Nyma solemnly. “Thousands of years, hundreds of rebellions, and nothing to show for it. What makes you think these guys are any different?”

Beezer whirred in agreement.

Manset smiled a little. “Call it a gut feeling. And who knows? If we play our cards right, perhaps one day, we can be free once more. Maybe I’ll even be able to go straight. What a universe that would be…”

He reached into his overshirt’s inner pocket and produced a badge. Five points with Voltron’s colors set in their proper pattern and a crown resting above a magnificent sword in the center. He delicately trailed his thumb over the gold insignia. His gaze drifted to his reflection in the window, and then back up to the stars.

‘If nothing else, I’m glad Keith didn’t wear his armor when he confronted Xyx. It’ll keep him from blabbing to the Galra.’

———————————

A frigate drifted through the neighboring system. While the outside was relatively unharmed, the inside was most certainly not. Fires raged on several decks, threatening to burn away the artificial atmosphere and compromise critical systems. Within the main docking bay was the strongest of these flames, but they weren’t the cause of Xyx’s trembling.

“Have you seen these fugitives?” asked General Sendak, projecting an image of his first encounter with the Earthlings from his gauntlet.

“N-No, sir, never, I—Wait.” The smuggler stopped as he spotted an irritatingly familiar face. Pointing to it, he declared, “That one. That’s the quiznacking grease stain who did this to me!”

“Interesting. Tell me everything you know.”

“Of course. If you have something to trade for the intel, that is,” said Xyx, rubbing his fingers together with a sly grin.

An electro-blade appeared against his throat. Haxus snarled, “Will your life suffice?”

Xyx shrank back, his eyes darting between the two men, their figures looming over him like demons in the distorted light.

“Y-Y-You got it, pal.”

Sendak’s lone optic shone as his lips curled into a wolfish smile.