The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Chapter 8 - Chozzerai Day

Soft, sweet chirps carried on the gentle breeze as distant birds swooped after one another. In the shadow of their lively game, farashyons flitted about, landing delicately on the petals of juniberry flowers. With their stems of vivd green, blooms of deep pink, and pistils of bright gold reaching for the clear blue sky, the great meadow was a glorious sight to behold.

Allura basked in the warmth of a familiar sun and sighed. “I loved the scent of the mountain juniberries in the early morning breeze.”

“As did I. Watching the dawn break over the mountains together is a sight I shall never forget,” said Alfor.

Beside them, the mice worked diligently to stir a cup of Arusian tea on a hover-tray, Plachu having to stand on Platt’s head so he could properly reach.

“Do you remember the summer berry festival?” she went on. “People would come from all over Altea for the harvest.”

“I remember how the berry juice stained your favorite dress. You were so upset,” he replied with a small chuckle.

“It took forever for Mother to calm me,” Allura laughed. Yet, after a moment, her smile faded. Her gaze fell to one of the juniberries and she plucked it, the stem breaking without a hint of resistance. Holding it up to her lips, she blew gently, and watched as the blossom fell apart and drifted away. “She loved coming here, too. Every night I dream of her, and Altea, but when I wake, my memories are like these spores: scattered in the wind. Unreachable.”

She squeezed the barren stem a touch tighter. On her shoulder, Chuchule nuzzled her cheek and squeaked sadly. She stroked the mouse’s head with a finger, slightly leaning into the soft touch.

Alfor looked on somberly, spying the small shimmer in the corner of her eye, and let out a quiet breath. “I wish it were not so. But this path has led you to meet so many wonderful people, and make new allies.”

He reached out and tickled Chulatt’s little belly, making her giggle. Allura joined her faintly. Just then, Plachu tapped the spork on the cup’s rim and squeaked before hopping off his large friend.

“Tell me,” said Alfor as she took the drink, “why did you ask to meet here? I would have thought your room would be far more comfortable, especially given the time.”

She hesitated, staring into her tea a moment. “In truth, it is the time that troubles me. The time of year, that is.”

Her father hummed quietly, his eyes darting away as he mentally checked the castle’s calendar. His face grew somber. “Ah. I see.”

The pair sat in silence for a little while, Allura sipping occasionally.

“We should be celebrating together,” she eventually said in a subdued tone, her hands tightening around the cup.

“And we will, just…” He glanced at his translucent palm. “…in a new way.”

“I like our old way.”

“Such as the year Coran and I performed the reenactment?”

Allura had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep her drink from bursting out.

“I still say he should have kept the gown, it was truly lovely,” he went on with a rare impish smirk. “Ooh, perhaps you could get one of the Paladins to wear it this time.”

Allura’s shaking shoulders nearly sent Chuchule tumbling off as her and her father’s hearty laughter filled the air.

“Lance would be perfect for it,” she managed to say, sending them and the mice into another fit.

“Princess, there you ar—” Coran stopped a few steps past the doorway, curiously taking in the scene.

“Oh, hello, Coran,” said Alfor, stiff with barely-restrained mirth. “We were just talking about you.”

Their muffled snickering made the advisor’s eyes narrow. He slid into a crouch next to them and asked, “Would this talk include tales of dresses, perchance?”

“What? No, of course not, we would never.” The drawn-out syllables and underlying chortle in Allura’s voice left much to be desired in the way of sincerity.

With perhaps the droopiest and most sour mustache in history, Coran stood, saying, “Hmm, yes, all well and good, and now it’s time for you to get some rest, young missy.”

“Aw, Coran, can I not stay?” She held her cup with both hands and widened her eyes innocently. “Just for a little while longer?”

“Ah-ah-ah, none of that now,” he replied with a wag of his finger. “You should have been in bed a varga ago. Come along now, to your room, pip-pip.”

Still hesitant, she turned to her father. “Must I?”

“Unfortunately, I have to concur,” he replied as he stood. “A princess needs her rest.”

Doing her best not to pout, Allura set her cup back on the tray and sighed. “Oh, very well.”

The mice were quick to her shoulders as she took Coran’s offered hand and he helped her to stand, brushing off her nightgown while he was at it.

“Sleep well, darling,” said Alfor.

“Goodnight, Father,” she replied, pausing a moment to look back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Like a ripple in a lake, the warm juniberry field vanished behind her, leaving the aqlamyra chamber barren once more as even its occupant disappeared.

———————————

“Have I mentioned yet how much I hate this?!”

“We all hate it, Hunk, we just gotta do it!”

‘Easy for you to say!’ Hunk thought as he clung to the platform beneath him.

Today’s exercise had taken something of a left turn. The Paladins had arrived at the training deck thinking they’d be doing some standard drills like Coran told them, but it turned out, what he considered standard was very much not so for them. The second they’d reached the center of the room, the floor had ejected dozens of circular platforms into the air, subsequently taking the five with them. Some were so small, only a single foot could fit on them while others were large enough to lay down on. Hunk had been fortunate enough to get one of the latter, and had immediately dropped to his belly, clutching the edge for dear life.

“What exactly is the point of this?” asked Lance, floundering to keep his balance on the tiny platforms beneath each foot, giving him the appearance of a drunken ice dancer.

“To test your ability to navigate rogue environments,” Coran replied from the control booth where a holographic version of the field floated before him. “Now, at the top of the cluster are your bayards. Your objective is to find a way to reach them.”

“Wait, then what am I trying to get?” Shiro squinted up at the hard-light container near the ceiling. Aided by his HUD’s binocular feature, he saw a familiar pair of fuzzy, winged items that nearly made him fall right then and there. “Are those my Lion slippers!?”

“Well, I had to use something,” said Coran. The other Paladins snickered.

With an exasperated sigh, Shiro said flatly, “Okay, let’s do this.”

The obvious strategy was to use their booster packs to jump to the next level — so of course it wasn’t that easy. Upon landing on a higher platform, he let out a yelp as it dropped like a rock. He quickly hopped to another one, the momentum carrying it away.

“Pidge,” Keith called, “is there any way to tell which ones are stable?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered shakily. She drifted behind him, having latched onto a disk like a child on their parent’s leg, causing it to go vertical and leave her in a perpetual spin.

Lance said, “No need. Watch this!”

At last gaining some semblance of balance, he angled his body and boosted upward, using the platforms beneath him like roller blades with surprising control.

“Woo-hoo, yeah!”

He reached out. He was nearly there, maybe a few feet away. So naturally, that’s when a disk slammed into his side.

“Noooo!” Hunk wailed as he dramatically reached for his falling friend.

The theatrics turned into a sharp cringe when Lance landed on a platform head-first with a choked cry before flopping onto his face. He would’ve kept laying there moaning had it not begun to tilt, forcing him to scramble to the center.

Once he was somewhat stable, he huffed, “Okay, maybe not.”

Meanwhile, Keith’s narrowed gaze darted between his two teammates, something having caught his ear. Spotting a rough pathway, he took it, boosting off of three and leaping to a higher fourth, clinging to either side and hanging below as it drifted toward the center of the cluster. After a moment, there was a quiet but distinct shift in the tone of the platform’s hum. Sure enough, it veered off course, sending him backward at a much faster speed.

He dropped to a lower disk and used his pack to counter the resulting momentum, muttering, “Knew it.”

“Knew what?” asked Pidge as she came around the full circle of the field.

He grabbed her platform with one hand, stopping it. “They make a different sound before moving.”

“So they do have a tell,” said Shiro.

“Yeah, but they shouldn’t. Not unless…” Pidge trailed off, her brain stabilizing from the dizziness and returning to full functionality. She pulled up a scanner on her HUD, watching as Lance made a second attempt and was thwarted yet again. The second it happened, a signal popped up. “Unless they’re being manually controlled.”

“CORAN!” the entire team bellowed.

An almost giddy laugh sounded from the control room. “So, you figured me out. But can you figure this?”

All at once, random platforms began to move; some fast, some slow, and in entirely random directions. The Paladins were forced to jump around to avoid being knocked off.

“Alright, guys, listen up,” called Shiro, steadying himself. “He’s only got so many hands and eyes. If we charge in together, at least one of us should be able to make it through. Ready? Go!”

With reckless abandon and determined war cries, the Earthlings launched into the fray.

“Limited number of hands, yes,” said Coran, a devious smile spreading across his face. “But twice as many fingers as targets.”

With incredible dexterity, the Altean’s digits began moving, nearly to the point of being independent from each other, sending the holographic miniatures before him every which way. A single touch had them going up, down, backwards, forwards, and any other direction one could imagine. The utter chaos kept the Paladins moving, narrowly dodging waves of white metal hurtling toward them. Every Paladin, that is, except one.

Pausing in his maniacal rampage, Coran leaned toward the yellow dot and said, “Come now, Number One, let’s see some movement!”

“Yeah, man, come on,” said Lance, currently stretched precariously between two platforms. The others were watching in similarly odd positions.

“No thank you,” Hunk replied, “I’d like to live!”

“Oh, pshaw! No one’s died from this exercise yet, now off you pop.”

“Yet?!” was all he managed to say before Coran grabbed his platform, turned it upside down, and began shaking it. Distorted screams warbled out of his throat as he clung on with nothing but fingers and toes.

“Dude, just let go!” Pidge said.

“Just hop to another platform, you’ll be fine!” Shiro called.

“You can do it, buddy!” Lance cheered.

“He’s gonna die,” Keith deadpanned. The others glared at him.

Amazingly, Hunk managed to hang on long enough for his tormentor to rethink his strategy — which, in hindsight, was probably the worst outcome they could’ve asked for. Creativity was one thing Coran had in spades. Letting the hologram go, he twirled his mustache for a moment, then smiled.

“Very well. Then how about” — He spread his hand wide, rotating the entire cluster ever so slowly; the five glanced at each other, suddenly pale— “this!”

He snapped his arm around. The platforms spun into a tornado. A flood of screams echoed throughout the room, the Paladins’ knuckles turning white beneath their gloves. Shiro and Keith activated their booster packs but they did little good against the torrential momentum; Lance and Pidge focused solely on not letting go, while Hunk, still upside down, officially ran out of strength. Cheeks flapping in the wind, his fingers slipped, and he went starfishing first into his best friend, then his youngest friend, his grumpy friend, and finally, his leader friend. They tumbled in a massive, tangled mess, hitting several platforms along the way, until they slammed into the ground. Long groans sounded from the armored heap while the tornado stopped and its parts returned to their hiding places under the floor.

“Everyone okay?” Shiro blearily asked from somewhere in the pile.

“Don’ worry, we broke each other’s fall,” replied Lance with a floppy wave.

Poking her head out the side, Pidge added, “And a few other things.”

The pile seemed to deflate as the five let out a collective moaning sigh.

A short while later, dressed in their civvies, they gathered around the dining table, nursing their sores. Rover was still there, waiting for them. Apparently, he’d interpreted Pidge telling him she’d be back when she left for training as an order to stay. She’d need to fix that. Coran, meanwhile, was yucking up a storm.

“Ho ho, you should have seen yourselves!” he laughed, slapping Shiro on the back. “Like a bunch of choferiaks with their noses in a knot!”

“Yeah, yeah, so funny when you’re not the one falling five stories,” grumbled Lance.

“Indeed it is.”

“It was closer to two stories, actually,” Pidge muttered absentmindedly, tapping away at her laptop. She had Rover on the table, his side panel open and new wires connecting him to the computer so she could tweak his programming.

“Whatever,” said Lance. “All I’m saying is, we would’ve totally aced that course if we had actual jetpacks. How come we just get those stupid little booster thingies?”

“Because a full-sized pack is far too cumbersome to wear constantly,” Coran answered. Lance opened his mouth. “And if you tried to cram that much power into the booster packs, you’d roast your bum.”

Pidge snapped her fingers and pointed to him in silent agreement.

The older teen slumped in his seat, possibly to protect said asset. “Oh.”

“Well, hopefully these are a bit better cooked than that,” said Hunk as he entered with two platters and set them on the table. Presently, Allura walked through another door, catching his attention. “Hey, Princess, you’re just in time for lunch.”

She blinked and looked up from the floor, then gave a small smile. “Thank you, Hunk.”

He returned the gesture far wider as Coran pulled out her chair for her and pushed it in once she was seated.

“I’m surprised we didn’t see you during training,” said Shiro. “You usually make sure to be there.”

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” she replied, a slight furrow in her brow. “How did it go?”

A tense laugh came from Lance, hurrying to reply before the others. “You didn’t miss much, honestly, I mean, it was basically just business as usual.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, what’ve you been up to, beautiful?”

“We were checking what supplies we have for Chozzerai,” said Alfor, popping into existence.

“Chozzerai?” Keith echoed curiously.

“Yes, it is one of Altea’s oldest holidays,” said Coran. “A grand commemoration of our planet’s unification.”

Allura glanced at her kinsmen somewhat disapprovingly. ‘You did not need to tell them.’

With a wave of his hand, a series of holograms appeared and he continued, “You see, long ago — about nine thousand decaphoebs by now — our world was more or less divided into two kingdoms, Altair and Heleena. Though not enemies, they did have their disagreements, and it kept them at odds for some time. Until, that is, the young prince and princess of each kingdom met.”

“Romeo and Juliet!?” The Alteans looked at Lance in confusion.

“It’s an old Earth story about lovers from warring houses,” said Shiro.

“You know, forbidden love, faking their deaths, then actually dying, blah blah blah,” added Pidge.

Alfor hummed. “Not entirely inaccurate. Although I would say it was less forbidden and more unexpected. And without the death. Kiere and Aldar met upon the bridge that connected their realms over the river Chozzerai, and it was there they were wed, uniting the planet as one and creating a lineage which persists even today.”

He turned to his daughter with pride, yet her eyes remained fixed on the image of the ceremony, the couple silhouetted in the fiery sunset.

“‘And their names shall echo throughout history as the first king and queen of our beloved Altea,’” she quietly recited.

“It was your favorite story,” said Alfor.

She smiled faintly. “It still is.”

“Oh, really?” Lance leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of his devious face.

“Did you have any traditions?” asked Hunk as the hologram faded. “Like, games or ceremonies?”

“Hey, maybe Rover could put on a show for us,” said Pidge. She disconnected the little drone from her laptop and closed the panel. He rose up, blinked his optic a few times, then started playing a pop song and bounced and twirled along with the rhythm in a kind of awkward dance. Pidge giggled wildly and pointed. “I just programmed that!”

The team laughed along, though a moment later, Rover froze and twitched, the song cutting off in a warbling sputter. He sank back down to the table, seeming dazed.

“…Still working out the kinks,” she said with a sheepish grin before launching back into typing on her laptop to see where she went wrong.

Hunk gave her a sympathetic look, knowing how hard she’d been working to learn Rover’s ridiculously complex coding, then asked, “Ooh, what about food? Did you have special foods?”

A solemn air surrounded Allura, her gaze growing distant. “We did.”

He followed her stare to the lunch set before her. “Oh, shoot, I’m so sorry! I-If I’d known, I absolutely would’ve—”

“It is alright, truly,” she said with a small wave of her hand. “I could not have expected you to. This is not your world, after all. It is…not even mine.”

Somber glances passed between the Paladins and Alteans, many of them noticing the way her elvish ears were drooping though her face remained neutral. For a few minutes, only the soft clinks of cutlery were heard, then Allura stood and gave a slight bow.

“Thank you for the meal. I believe I need some air.”

“Alright,” Shiro replied, nodding in kind.

The others watched her go with varied levels of concern. Alfor seemed particularly troubled, hanging his head with a deep sigh.

All of a sudden, Hunk slammed his hands on the table. “I won’t stand for this!”

“But you just did,” said Pidge, leaning away in startled confusion alongside the others.

“Not the point. I refuse to let a friend be sad, especially on her favorite holiday! Coran, Alfor, what did you guys used to have for dinner?”

“If I recall correctly, it was the lyssamerine roast,” said the king, looking to his friend for confirmation, which he received.

“Perfect! Do we have all the ingredients for that?”

Coran rubbed the tip of his mustache in thought. “Well, thanks to the Arusians, I believe so. At the very least, we should be able to find substitutes, though there is one item I have yet to see among their crops.”

“And that would be?” asked Hunk eagerly.

“Nuuskob. It is a key component in several Altean dishes and has a most wonderful flavor.” The Paladins cringed, remembering the last time he’d said something of his tasted good. “You do have to mind the stuffing, though. Get even one splotch of that juice on you, and the stain will never come out.”

Hunk’s determination deflated a little. “So, it just doesn’t exist here? That’s it, no-can-do?”

Coran shrugged, much to his dismay, and he sank back into his chair.

“Hey, cheer up, big guy,” said Lance, slapping a hand onto his shoulder, “there’s still plenty of stuff we can do, like play some games, watch a movie, have drinks on the balcony — ooh, or maybe even have a nice, slow dance if we’re lucky.”

His teammates stared at him blankly.

“I think you mean ‘I’ there, loverboy,” said Pidge.

“Well, y’all have fun with that,” said Keith as he stood. “I’ve gotta get going.”

“Going? Going where?” asked Hunk.

“Banlam City,” he replied. “Manset’s guy finally figured out the conversion ratio for our cash.”

“You’re taking a shuttle this time, right?” asked Shiro.

“Yeah.” The Altean shuttles, though potentially eye-catching, would draw far less attention than their Lions, thank the Ancients.

Hunk once again slammed his hands down. “That’s perfect! I can grab nuuskob from the food market there! Take me with?”

“Uh—”

Before Keith could properly respond, Pidge’s hand shot up. “Ooh, ooh, me too! I wanna talk to Manset about that intel he said he could get me.”

He glanced from one to the other uncertainly for a moment, then replied, “No.”

“Aw, why not?” both whined.

“I’m not your babysitter. Besides, you’re pilots now. Fly yourselves.”

“But I’ve only ever flown Yellow,” Hunk replied. “He kinda compensates.”

“And what if there’s some galactic standard for flying age? We could end up in space jail!” added Pidge.

“Well, I guess you’re staying here, then,” said Keith, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone.

Lance groaned. “Is it physically impossible for you to not be a total hard-case? Like, seriously, will you keel over from being nice for once?”

“Says the guy constantly throwing insults,” Keith shot back. “Look, after the trouble we got into last time, I’m not risking you guys wandering off at the first sign of something shiny. None of you are coming with me, end of discussion.”

Lance rolled his eyes with a scoff, his friends sagging in dismay. Alfor and Coran glanced at each other, unsure if they should intervene.

“Actually,” said Shiro, “I think it’s a great idea.”

His brother turned to him in disbelief while his teammates beamed, though one was less excited and more smug.

“You can’t be serious,” said Keith.

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Shiro replied.

“I am not—”

“Come on—”

“No—”

“Just let them tag along—”

“They’ll end up getting into trouble again.”

“And you’d rather they do it alone?”

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes darted between his brother and friends a moment, both of whom made sure their smiles were extra wide, before letting out relenting breath. “Fine. We leave in ten.”

“Yes!” Hunk and Pidge cheered, sharing a double high-five.

“And while you guys do that, I believe there’s a princess in need of a little TLC,” purred Lance as he got up and sauntered out the door.

The brothers shared a look.

“So, you’re staying here?” said Keith.

“Yes, yes I am,” Shiro replied, heading after Lance.

“Right-o, then,” said Coran. “Grab what you need, and I’ll ready the shuttle.”

The two geniuses whooped and ran off. Keith sighed with a slow shake of his head and followed the advisor.

Alfor chuckled to himself. ‘Just like old times.’

Down in the hangar, Keith familiarized himself with the shuttle and its controls. Its long, sleek black-and-white frame would definitely provide an advantage should they wind up in another firefight, though it immediately lost those points by having no weapons of its own. Sometimes he hated how non-militaristic the Alteans were. On the bright side, its “explorer engines,” as Coran called them, were nearly as big as the body — roughly the size of a double-decker bus — so speed and maneuverability wouldn’t be a concern. Small blessings, he supposed.

Finally, three minutes past the allotted time, Hunk and Pidge arrived.

“Sorry, sorry, we’re late, I know,” Hunk was quick to say. “I was trying to find a picture of nuuskob for reference, but the computer kept glitching.”

“Really? I should have a look at that,” Coran muttered with a rub of his mustache.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.” Keith pushed himself off the side of the shuttle and moved to climb in. However, he paused when he spotted a certain drone and backpack, and held out his hand in a stopping motion. “Uh-uh. Tech stays. Him, too.”

Robot and owner looked at each other, then Pidge grabbed him and curled her body around him protectively, saying, “But I need him.”

“Yeah, man,” said Hunk, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning over her in a similar fashion, “it’s her emotional support tech.”

“My darling babies,” she went on, cuddling Rover even closer, making him chirp happily. “They can’t live without me.”

“Nor she them. They are all each other has,” he finished, as if he were narrating a Shakespearean play.

Keith was unmoved. “They’re going to get stolen.”

The pair froze. “Oh.”

“Are you sure?” Pidge asked pleadingly.

“Yes,” he instantly replied.

“What if I’m careful?”

“No.”

“But it’s in my bag—”

“Won’t matter.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’s,” Keith finally said sternly, if not a bit frustratedly. “Either it stays, or you do.”

Pidge growled and puffed up her cheeks, giving the impression of a bomb building up power before it exploded. Knowing her, that was exactly what was about to happen.

Gently patting her back, Hunk said, “Sorry, little buddy. Looks like it has to be done. But hey, the faster we leave, the faster you can get back to them.”

“I guess,” she grumbled with a huff. Very slowly, she let Rover go, slid off her backpack, and handed both over to Coran. Before she fully let go, she said very seriously, “Please protect them.”

“With my life, m’lady,” he replied in a matching tone.

She gave a firm and possibly tearful nod.

“You’ll be fine,” Keith tersely called.

“Have you no heart!”

Hunk smiled tiredly, then turned his attention to the pod’s cockpit, noticing the lack of a third chair. “So, do these things have a backseat, or..?”

“Oh, of course,” replied Coran as he and Pidge walked over. “Though having just one of you back there feels rather lonely, so—”

He let his actions finish his words via tapping a few buttons on the holo-screen. A small sound of mechanical acknowledgment rang out and the back wall shifted, the line of neon between the seats parting down the middle. It then lit up, sending streaks of light through the seams of the wall, and angled outward like a canopy, revealing a small space with a low platform.

“Normally, this is for little items you want to keep nearby,” he went on, producing a throw pillow from his ‘pic and placing it on the makeshift seat, “so it may be a speck snug, but I imagine it should work fine all the same.”

“Hmm.” Pidge eyed the spot and grinned. “Yeah, that should work.”

Before any of them could question why she’d said it like that, she climbed in after Keith, and maneuvering to her seat, her foot just so happened to find its way into his stomach, eliciting a choked noise. He shot a glare her way, as if to say “Really?” but she was too busy smugly settling into the cushion to notice.

Hunk sagged and sighed. ‘This is gonna be a fun day.’

Still, he took a moment to appreciate how part of the side panel of the ship came off and split in two, providing both steps and a lower entry point for ease of access. Alien tech was just the coolest. Proving his point, the sight of Coran’s wristwatch gendopic reminded Keith that he’d been meaning to alter his own. He took it from his belt pouch and held it against his wrist. Just like with all Altean tech, it only took a thought for the rectangular device to reformat itself, fitting snugly around his arm with the “V” on top. Hunk and Pidge did the same.

Once they were all seated and settled, the canopy materialized over the three. Though black on the outside, the inside provided a perfect view of their surroundings as the engines started and lifted them off the ground. Coran waved goodbye, Rover spinning with a whooping noise next to him. Hunk and Pidge returned it enthusiastically, Keith offering a simple raised hand in kind, until the pod turned enough to block them from sight and flew out of the hangar bay.

“Princess, we’re ready to wormhole,” Keith radioed.

“Understood.” Standing at her podiums, Allura needed to concentrate only a moment for the teludav to activate.

“Back in a few.”

In a flash, the ship was gone, and the portal shortly followed. She stared after it, a part of her wishing she’d gone with them. The castle’s halls would be so much quieter.

“Well, while they’re doing that—”

She stood corrected.

“—how’s about you and me do something fun?” Sliding up beside her, Lance’s face held an all-too-familiar-by-now suggestive look.

Her own was one of weary displeasure as she replied, “Thank you for the offer, but I fear I am not in the mood just now.”

She turned and made for the door, only to be stopped by him jumping in front of her. “All the more reason to do it. I mean, what’s a holiday if you can’t enjoy yourself, right? Come on. You know you want to.”

‘Do I?’ she thought, a part of her actually considering. ‘It could be a nice distraction, but with Lance being…Lance…it may not be worth it…’

The sound of a throat pointedly clearing drew the two’s attention to Shiro off to the side. “Uh, Lance? A word?”

“Sure thing. Don’t miss me too much.” With a wink to the princess, he jogged over, his demeanor shifting from flirt to fanboy. “What’s up, Cap?”

“Listen, I get what you’re feeling right now, but pulling back a little might be a good idea,” said Shiro in a hushed tone. “Sometimes you have to take baby steps before you can start walking.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. Mamá always said ‘Never rush a lady.’”

“Okay, well, that’s good—”

“Unless she’s late, and we’re sorely overdue for our first date.”

There it was.

Shiro sighed at Lance’s overly confident expression and muttered, “Lance, no…”

While they talked, Alfor appeared next to his daughter, who was quietly mulling over the proposal, and quietly asked “Well?”

She rose a brow. “‘Well’ what?”

“It sounds like a decent idea.”

“It sounds like a Lance idea,” she said, though it lacked the usual conviction.

“Perhaps. But the alternative of sulking in your room all quintant is one I think we can both agree is less than preferable.”

‘I would not sulk,’ she wanted to argue. However, she couldn’t deny that he had a point. Though Allura would have her dear mice to keep her company, they were (respectfully) poor substitute for a proper celebration party. As a matter of fact, it seemed they wanted to go along with Lance’s “fun,” and were jumping and squeaking excitedly while pointing to him. Not to mention, she did loathe being bored…

“I suppose it would not be the worst thing ever,” she very slowly said, much to her father’s and pets’ delight. Turning around, she cleared her throat. “Very well, Lance. What did you have in mind?”

He lit up and rushed back over. “Oh, you are gonna love this, nena.”

He took her hand as the mice scurried onto her shoulders and led her out of the room with an elated laugh. Shiro couldn’t help the skeptical look he first gave them and then Alfor. The king simply smiled and shrugged before disappearing. Letting out another sigh, Shiro followed his teammates, his steps a good deal slower than theirs.

‘Really hope the others don’t take too long,’ he thought, already feeling the fatigue setting in. ‘I’m not built for this.’

———————————

Banlam City was as bustling and loud as ever, possibly more so today. Fortunately, now that the Earthling trio knew what to expect and where to go, the trip to the smugglers’ apartment was much faster, and far less attention-drawing. It seemed some of the shop owners remembered them, though, and made sure to send warning eyes their way. Keith herded them swiftly through the streets, and within a matter of minutes, they were knocking on Manset’s door.

The man himself met them and gave a hearty, “Welcome, my friends! So good to see you. Please, please, come in. I hope this invitation did not come at a poor time.”

“No, it’s fine,” replied Keith as he guided them to the couches.

“Better than fine, actually,” said Hunk. “We’re looking for something called nuuskob.”

“Nuuskob?”

“Yeah.” He noticed Manset’s expression. “Aw, please don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it, or it’s extinct or something.”

“No, no, I’m just surprised is all,” he replied. “It’s not one of the more popular vegetables, but there’s plenty. In fact, an old friend of mine sells it.”

“Yes!”

Pidge abruptly slid in front of him with a hand raised. “And I wanna know if your guy’s found anything about my family yet. Does he know where they are? Are they okay?”

Manset replied, “Unfortunately, no such news as of yet. Intel gathering, especially from the Empire, is no easy task. I should be receiving a communique from him sometime today, but I’m afraid I can guarantee nothing of its contents.”

Her face and shoulders fell, disappointment weighing on her like a bag of bricks. Hunk wrapped her in a side hug, rubbing her arm as the other two watched sadly.

“Keep us posted,” said Keith.

“Of course,” Manset replied.

“Now, about our money.”

A strange sound came from his throat. It almost sounded like a laugh, but that couldn’t be right; laughter was supposed to be a light, happy thing. This noise was light in the same way a dying engine or goose was, and held about as much joy.

“You know—You know, it’s a really crazy story, how we managed to figure the conversion. See, first we had to find out what those bills even were, so we went to this buddy of mine — really, really great guy, you should meet sometime — and he had to point us to a—”

“They’re worthless, aren’t they?” Keith deadpanned.

If it were possible to choke on one’s words, he was certain Manset would’ve died of asphyxiation on the spot.

With a breathy cough he admitted, “More or less. I’m sorry, my boy, they were extraordinarily old. Frankly, it’s a miracle some worlds kept using them after their planet of origin went under and let them keep any worth at all.”

“So what’s the damage, then?” asked Hunk.

Another bout of apprehension. “Ah, well, you see…it’s not—i-it could be worse, um, and this is only a guesstimate, you know, so—”

“Manset,” Keith cut in.

“…Roughly a thousand to one.”

“Yeesh,” said Pidge, she and Hunk cringing.

“Indeed.” Manset picked up a previously discarded drink from the table next to his armchair and took a long sip.

Contrarily, Keith appeared more contemplative than concerned, and after a moment, he took out his gendopic. “So, seventy billion would translate to, what” — A flash of light surged from the device, forming into a pyramid of groggeries as tall as their owner — “seventy mil’?”

Out came the drink in a fine spray. Manset and the other Earthlings gaped at the pile for a least a minute.

“Uh—wh—y-yes, I suppose it does,” he eventually managed to say, followed by a somewhat manic chuckle. “Um, it may take some finagling to get that much, but it can certainly be done.”

“We’re loaded? Su-weet!” Pidge whooped as Manset handed over the first part of the GAC, the coins contained in a metal cylinder.

“We can buy as much nuuskob as we want!” said Hunk. “Speaking of which, where can we find some?”

“Just on the eastern side of town,” replied Manset, gesturing out the window. “That’s where the food market is. The shop you’re looking for is called Wanderlust Emporium, right on the main strip, can’t miss it. Tell Novun the Elzaer I sent you, and you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

After hitching a ride in a flying taxi (which the pair of brainiacs could hardly stop gushing over), the group arrived in the food district, finding that it held not only stores but also eateries of various sizes and styles. It was a chore to keep Hunk from following his nose into every one and tasting their menus. Without too much delay, they soon found the emporium thanks to their ‘pics’ translating feature and headed inside.

It wasn’t all that dissimilar from a small Earth grocer’s, with several rows of produce stacked in large, rectangular bins and more products lining the shelves on the walls. There were even a few cold cases and tubs of water with seafood, though after seeing something tentacled still moving inside, the trio wisely kept walking until they reached the counter. While there was no bell to ring, there had been a melodic chime when they’d entered, so they decided to wait, checking out the spattering of nearby knick-knacks in the meantime.

It was a decent enough distraction for the boys, but not so much for Pidge. Barely a few seconds passed before she bellowed, “Hello?!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your trousers on!” came a muffled voice from the back of the shop, shortly followed by the sound of several things clattering to the floor and a string of words the three got the impression they shouldn’t repeat.

The back door slid open with an aged clang. Through it marched a humanoid alien with grimy tangerine skin, simple work clothes, and digitigrade legs, which quickly vanished behind the counter as he leaned over it. His cat-like eyes scrutinized the trio, a hint of confusion growing in them.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “What do you want?”

“Are you Novun?” asked Hunk.

“You see anybody else in here?” the Elzaer replied snappishly.

Keith’s gaze narrowed as his friend, now far more timid, said, “Good point, sorry. We’re looking for nuuskob. Manset said you sold it—”

“Manset?” Novun echoed. “So, the blasted grifter finally has time to acknowledge my existence, does he?”

“Um—” was about all the Earthlings could get out as they glanced at each other.

“Well, praise the stars! Actually using that fat head of his for once? It’s a quiznacking miracle! Honestly, is it too much to ask to just get my stuff when I need it?”

His voice devolved into a grumble, prompting Keith to give a pointed “Ahem.” Thankfully, it got the ranting to stop. “We’re here to buy.”

“…Wait, so you don’t work for Manset?” said Novun at length, his brain finally catching up to his ears. “Then how do you know him?”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s kind of a long story—”

“He tried to scam us, Keith figured it out, stopped him, kicked butt, and saved his business,” Pidge rattled off, jutting her thumb at her teammate.

“So you’re the one who exposed Xyx.” Novum hummed. He gave Keith another once-over, noting his firm, guarded stance, and let out a wry huff. “Pretty gutsy move, kid, going after a big-time smuggler like that. Not too smart, though. It’ll make some enemies for you.”

“What else is new?” replied Keith with a shrug.

Apparently, that was the right answer. “Good. You’re just the guys I need for this, then.”

“Uh, do I want to know what ‘this’ would be?” asked Hunk, using finger quotes.

“Yeah, you do, so listen up. I’ll make you a deal: I get you the — what was it you said? Nuuskob? — if you get me everything Manset was supposed to.”

“Can’t we just pay you?” Pidge’s rolling eyes nearly popped out of her skull as the alien slammed his hand on the counter.

“No!” he yelled with an almost patronizing air. “I should’ve gotten my shipment a phoeb ago! And if you’re not working for Manset, you must be working with him, which is basically the same thing, so it’s your job to make good on his promise. No shipment, no nuuskob. Oh, and before you think you can just go somewhere else, I’m the only one selling it in this sector.”

A look was shared, combined with shrugged shoulders and shaken heads.

Keith said, “Give us a minute.”

As they walked to a far corner of the shop, they could hear a mutter. “The quiznack’s a minute?”

“We’re not doing this, right?” whispered Pidge once they were far enough away. “I mean, there’s no way he’s the only seller. He’s gotta be bluffing.”

“Let’s find out,” Keith replied. Lifting his wrist, he activated his gendopic and called their mutual “friend” explaining the situation.

“Oh, no, he’s definitely not bluffing,” said Manset. “As I told, it’s not that popular. There’s plenty of it, just not too many people wanting to buy it.”

“So, basically, it’s this or nothing?” Hunk’s gaze grew distant in thought.

“I’m afraid so. I’m terribly sorry, my friends, I should’ve seen this coming.”

Keith rose a brow. “You say that like you didn’t.”

Manset gave nervous laugh and shrug. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

“You may not have to,” sighed Keith, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is turning into more of a headache than it’s worth.”

“Exactly,” said Pidge. “I say we cut our losses and just find a substitute or something for the stupid roast.”

“No.” The pair turned to Hunk in surprise. Such a serious expression and tone felt strange coming from him. “It has to be exactly the way Allura remembers it, or else her Chozzerai will be miserable. It’s up to us to make sure that doesn’t happen. We can do this.” His teammates didn’t seem convinced. “Please, Keith? For our friend?”

Something twisted in his chest at Hunk’s pleading expression. His eyes darted to Pidge who mouthed “Not worth it” and shook her head once again. Looking to Manset proved a mistake. His face matched Hunk’s; he even leaned forward slightly to give the impression of desperation. False or not, though, it added to the push in his head.

“I’m not getting any younger here,” Novum called in irritation.

Keith ran a hand through his hair, temporarily smoothing back half his bangs, then let it fall with a ragged breath. “Fine. We’ll do it.”

Hunk whipped around to the shopkeep with a massive smile. “We’re in!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” said the Elzaer, raising a fist.

“Wonderful,” said Manset. “I’ll send you the list.”

“We’re gonna regret this,” Pidge grumbled.

“I already am,” Keith replied tiredly. ‘At least the others are having a better time than us.’

———————————

“Um, Lance? Remember when I told you to take it slow? This is not slow.”

Shiro couldn’t believe he even had to say it. More unbelievable was what he was looking at. Somehow, in just a few minutes, the teen had transformed the lounge area into a resturant-esque dining nook, complete with dimmed lighting, candles (where in the world he’d found them, the man had no idea), and a vase of flowers adorning the table hovering in the middle of the curved, petal-coated couch.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance replied with a dismissive wave, making sure to keep his voice down. “Besides, she’s my princess, how am I not supposed to spoil her?”

Had there been a camera in the room, Shiro was certain he’d be staring right down the barrel.

Heedless of his reproachful gaze, Lance took Allura’s hand and guided her to the couch before taking his own seat. She looked over the simple spread of food goo and drinks as the mice scurried down for a closer inspection.

“Since we already had lunch, I figured we could have some afternoon tea instead.”

“Thank you, Lance,” she replied, subtly eyeing the drones draping a bunted curtain in a ring above them. “How very…thoughtful of you.”

“Ah, it was nothing, really.” He slid a little closer. “That’s just me, you know? Mr. Thoughtful.” A second slide. She took a bite of her food and leaned away ever so slightly. “And speaking of which, I was thinking that after this we could snag Pidge’s laptop” — Slide; bite; lean — “watch a movie and hang, just the two of us—”

“A movie sounds great.”

“Eek!”

Lance jumped back as Shiro situated himself between the two teens, happily munching away at his own food goo. Scattered drops of sweat on his forehead suggested he’d ran all the way to the kitchen and back to grab it.

While Allura let out a hidden sigh of relief, Lance stammered, “Uh, I-I mean, I’d love to have you there, of course, normally, but, um…”

“May I join you as well?” asked Alfor, materializing on the other side of his daughter.

“W-Well, that’s, uh—”

“Room for one more?”

This time, Lance genuinely screamed, flailing into Shiro’s arms at Coran’s sudden appearance next to him. “How long have you been there!?”

“Just got here,” he replied, ever chipper. “So, what shall we be viewing?”

“Uhh…” Glancing around as he straightened, Lance let out a strained cough. “Oh, just something nice and wholesome, y’know? But I was kinda sorta thinking maybe it would just be me and Allura? Not that you guys wouldn’t be welcome, not at all, i-it’s just, um—”

“Really, now? And pray tell, why exactly do you want to be alone with her?” asked Alfor tightly.

The weight of all three men’s blank smiles made Lance gulp. In a moment of desperation, he looked to Allura for help, only to find her in a pointedly enrapturing conversation with her pets, crushing his hope.

An awkward laugh bubbled out of his throat, and he reached for his cup. “N-No—No—No reason. Heh heh.”

Shiro eyed the drink a moment, then turned to the mice, who were giving Allura’s cup test sniffs, and immediately pulled away gagging. Before he could say something, Lance took a long sip. His eyes bugged open. He almost spat it out, but managed to contain it in bulging cheeks and swallow, nearly choking himself in the process.

“Um, that’s not one of the old Altean teas, is it?” asked Shiro, noting the dark grey color.

“Yup. Tastes great,” Lance wheezed.

“Buddy, you know tea expires, right?”

A loud and rather unhappy gurgle suggested he had not, in fact, known that. He collapsed face-first onto the table, groaning and clutching his stomach.

“Not to worry, my boy, this’ll get you right as rain in no time,” said Coran as he took off the cloche from his plate, revealing the “special Paladin meal” he’d made before, and skewered a yellow lump. “Open the hatch. Food Lion coming in!”

He made engine noises and waved it around like he was feeding a toddler. Lance could do little more than watch in horror as the slimy thing approached his mouth.

Thankfully, just before it reached him, Shiro put his hand in the way. “No. Just…no.”

Allura observed the three with a less-than-enthusiastic expression. It was one she shared with Alfor, even as he gave a small shrug and smile. She knew what it meant: “At least he’s trying.” Yet she could not see it.

‘Today is meant to be a celebration of Altea, not foolishness.’ She kept the bitter thought to herself.

However, as she continued to watch Coran insist the food would help while Shiro guarded Lance like a mother hen, the tiniest giggle managed to escape her faintly curved lips. The scene was not dissimilar from one in her youth, when her father had attempted to convince her mother to try a bizarre herb he’d found on one of his travels, insisting it tasted scrumptious despite smelling of rotting socks. The little princess had laughed herself silly — until she’d gotten a whiff of it, that is. Then it had been her parents’ turn to laugh.

Alfor smiled at her softened face. This certainly wasn’t how he’d expected things to go, but perhaps it meant something good truly would come of today. A ghost could hope, couldn’t he?

———————————

Hunk gaped at the ribbons of light bending and rushing around the ship, casting a faint rainbow over them. “Man, this never gets old.”

“Eh, you’ve seen spacetime get folded once, you’ve seen it a thousand times,” said Pidge as she lazily flicked through the few games she’s transferred from her laptop to her ‘pic. Reaching the end and finding nothing to play, she groaned. “Why is it taking so long? Can’t Manset send somebody else to do this stuff?”

“Getting his business back doesn’t mean he got his pilots or ships back,” Keith replied. “Whoever’s left is probably stretched thin doing this same thing for other customers. And we’ve only been in slip-space for a few minutes. Stop whining.”

She glowered at him. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if someone hadn’t forced me to leave all my stuff at the castle.”

“Well, maybe someone was trying to keep you from losing it permanently.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa,” Hunk cut in, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and moving them apart from one another. “Let’s all take a deep breath before anybody says something they’ll regret. Remember: the less we fight, the faster this trip will be, and the sooner we can have a delicious roast and a fantastic Chozzerai.”

Keith raised a brow at his teammate’s bright face. “Why are you so set on this?”

“Hm. I’m not sure,” he replied, leaning back and watching the lights dance overhead. “My mom always said that food’s like a universal language. It can say anything from ‘Good morning’ to ‘I’m sorry’ or even ‘You still haven’t given me back my action figure that you said you only wanted to look at so here’s a bribe.’” Pidge snickered while Keith rolled his eyes with a tiny smile. “Plus, it’s a family tradition. Every holiday we’d cook together, eat together, even clean together, and we’d always laugh so hard at Dad’s jokes. If I can give Allura even a tiny bit of that joy, I want to.”

Keith’s face fell. He stared stiffly out the window.

“And, hey, if you guys have any traditions you want to do, at least food-wise, just let me know.”

“I don’t think we can get take-out in space,” said Pidge.

“Oh yeah? Challenge accepted.” The pair chuckled, then turned to their companion. “What about you, Keith? What does your family do?”

The only answer given was one they didn’t see: his fingers tightening on his arm ever so slightly. For several seconds, they watched at him, a bad feeling growing in Hunk’s gut.

“Keith, do you—”

“We’re here,” he abruptly said, taking the wheel at the beep of the console.

His friends glanced at each other, Pidge shrugging as they dropped out of slip-space and their was attention diverted. Orbiting in-between two planets was a large asteroid, barren, it seemed, save for the small streams of ships going into it rather than landing on the surface.

Their landing permits cleared by the traffic controllers, they joined the flow and slipped inside through what was once an impact crater. They craned their necks all around. It was hollow. The entire asteroid was hollowed-out. Tightly-knitted buildings lined every meter of the interior, some sideways, others upside-down, all held to the asteroid’s shell by artificial gravity.

“Whoa,” they breathed.

Rather than docking-towers like in Banlam City, the Ylixis Trading Station had hexagonal landing ports connected to each other in a honeycomb pattern. Following the path they’d been sent, they set down on the top-most layer and headed out.

To say it was any more or less chaotic then Banlam would be subjective. The streets were just as crowded, the sounds just as cacophonous, and the air just as heavy with a strange myriad of scents, not all of them pleasant. However, this place had a different atmosphere. They couldn’t pinpoint why at first, but noticing the various figures lurking in the alleyways and feeling the intense stares from many passersby, it quickly solidified into an aura of lawlessness. More than once, they spotted a weapon, and whether it was being brandished or not, it made them pick up the pace.

“Why do I get the feeling these guys don’t really like us?” whispered Hunk, his sights locked on a bulky alien who was eyeing them from across the way. ‘And are not afraid to show it, apparently.’

“We’re new faces,” Keith replied, joining his gaze briefly. “And a new species. They’re sizing us up.”

“Uh, do I want to know what for?” Pidge made the mistake of making eye contact with a multi-armed alien at a stand. His oversized stare and grin were locked on them while his overzealous limbs sliced up the food on the counter.

She drew back, and found a protective arm wrapping around her shoulders. Keith glared daggers at the alien. “Probably not.”

The three stayed in tight formation from then on, doing their best not to look at anyone or anything too closely. Unfortunately, even with the map Keith kept subtly checking on his ‘pic, there were a few times they got turned around and had to rely on vague landmarks to figure out where to go. It was another difference between the station and the city: while the latter had a fairly simple layout and broad sidewalks like they were used to on Earth, this place’s lanes were winding and only big enough to accommodate the bare minimum of a crowd, threatening to make the three claustrophobic. There were a lot more sidewalks here, too. Beside and below them, multiple layers of walkways stretched between the buildings on every layer, as if new structures kept getting stacked on top of the old. Given how little room there was to work with inside an asteroid, it was entirely possible. A few times, the Earthlings were tempted to look down, and they all silently agreed they’d rather not visit the poorly-lit lower levels. Ever.

Not a minute too soon, they found the shop matching the depiction Manset had given them. The name Glynora Tarn’s Innovixus Nexus rested over the partially rusted doorway in tacky neon lights, much like the rest of the stores, but upon stepping inside, the mood shifted dramatically. A menagerie of tech covered every shelf and display stand, all organized with acute cleanliness. Not a stray hair nor speck of dust stirred from the sterling surfaces as the trio walked to the counter. They became a duo, however, when Pidge inevitably peeled off to the examine the items up close.

“What do you think this one does?” she said, poking at a small, coil-shaped machine, then darting to the next one that caught her eye. “Or this one? I see an energy converter over there—ooh, and that’s a molecular splitter! Maybe if I combined the two I could make an EMP nuke!”

“Do not!”

“Ow!” A cloth snapped at her hand, making her flinch and pull it well away from the alien standing next to her. “That hurt!”

Her cry made Keith tense. Seeing his fist tightening, Hunk quickly put his hands on his shoulders.

‘Come on, dude, don’t make a scene,’ he silently begged. Thankfully, his friend seemed to get the message and relaxed. Slightly.

The woman (presumably Glynora Tarn herself) paid Pidge less than no mind, instead squirting something onto the device and furiously scrubbing the part she’d dared to put her finger. When she was done, she darted to all the others Pidge had messed with and repeated the process.

“Do not touch the appliances. If you touch them, they will get dirty which will lower their value and then no one will buy them,” said the teal alien in a hurried and sharp manner. Abruptly pausing in her work, she whirled around and pointed the spray bottle in her hand at the Earthlings as if it were a blaster. “Is that clear?”

While his friends glared at her, Hunk forced a shaky smile and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

She squinted at them a moment longer, then resumed cleaning.

“Uh, sorry if this is a bad time,” he continued, “but we’re here to get a replacement for something. It’s called, um…” He lifted his wrist and checked the list on his ‘pic. Glynora rose an intrigued brow at the watch-like device. “A fliz-blaz-i-nator?”

“Flizblaz—” Glynora cut herself off, turning to the three and looking them over as she adjusted her glasses critically. “You’re rather well-dressed for smugglers.”

“We’re not smugglers,” said Keith. “We’re just completing the delivery. Do you have it or not?”

She scoffed. “How rude, of course I have it. But why should I trust you with it? The last group I sold one to got snatched up by the Galra not thirty klicks away from here. How do I know you’re any more qualified to take care of one of my creations?”

“Because we’re taking a different route, our ship is smaller and harder to detect, and the guy who was tipping off the Galra is out of the picture,” Pidge rattled off, still rubbing her hand.

Like a gaping fish, Glynora’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her eyes flitting about as if trying to spot an argument in her sanitized store. Finding none, she begrudgingly said, “I suppose that would be helpful.”

“More helpful than you,” muttered Pidge.

A vein pulsed on the alien’s temple. “But not foolproof. Prove to me you have the mental acuity to avoid the Galra and care for my inventions and you may have the machine.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” asked Keith, rapidly losing his patience with her disdainful and somewhat shrill tone.

“You won’t. She will.” Glynora pointed a thin finger at Pidge. “You, little miss know-it-all, will face me in a game of my choosing. If you win, you’ll get your flizblazinator — free of charge, even.”

“And if we lose?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising her brow.

The woman paused for a moment, something of a grasping expression coming over her face before she hurriedly replied, “Bragging rights. Now, do we have a deal or are you going to stop loitering in my store?”

Pidge looked to the boys, who glanced at each other before turning back to her. This was her challenge. She had to decide.

Feigning disinterest, she fully took in Glynora’s appearance, from her six-digit hands and sleek, pristine attire to her intelligent crimson eyes resting behind hexagonal, half-rimmed glasses. Though she didn’t have hair, the droop of her long ears and number of wrinkles lining her dull teal complexion denoted a decently advanced age.

‘She’s definitely going to pick something she’s had the most experience with. Of course, I’ve never played any alien game before, so that’s a moot point. Guess I’ll just have to beat her at her own game.’

“All right,” said Pidge, “what are we playing?”

A triumphant grin spread across Glynora’s face, lengthening to an almost uncanny degree thanks to her short muzzle. “Good.”

With two claps of her hands, the room shifted. The displays lining the floor zipped away on inlaid tracks until they’d formed the impression of bleachers on either side while a section of the center flipped over, revealing a table with two chairs. Pidge was impressed with the setup; her companions were more confused as to why the shopkeeper had this on-hand in the first place. Regardless, the ladies took their seats as the lights dimmed, leaving a spotlight over the two players.

“We’ll be playing glorblonthian checkers,” said Glynora, the middle of the table turning over just as the floor had. “Using the Melmakian ruleset, of course. Are you familiar?”

Hunk and Keith joined Pidge in examining the game now before her. It appeared decently familiar, yet had a few key distinctions from American checkers. For one, the board was not a square but a diamond (though technically they were the same thing, just on a different axis), and the pieces were domed rather than flat.

“Not even a little,” Pidge answered dryly. It wasn’t a lie, but having her opponent underestimate her abilities was by no means a disadvantage.

“They couldn’t be simpler,” Glynora replied. “Each player has fifteen pieces which they can move diagonally from diamond to diamond, the goal being to get at least six onto your opponent’s side of the board and create this shape.” She moved a cluster to make a “V” with the sixth piece resting above it, then returned them to start position. “The rotation doesn’t matter. Along the way, you must capture enemy pieces by jumping over them. Each one has a different point value hidden on the bottom which will be revealed once they’re taken.

“Now, there are a few extra stipulations: Both players must make a move in fifty tics or their turn is forfeit; neither can leave their seats for any reason or the game is forfeit; the loser is allowed a final move before the game is called; no food or drink are allowed on the table; never play this in the rain; the pieces are a choking hazard, do not swallow; nobetsallowed; nopetsallowed; tailsmustbekeptpointedattheflooratalltimes; ifyouwouldliketolodgeacomplaintyoucan’t; theserulesarenotvalidontheplanetofOotah…”

Her voice sped up with every word, blurring into an unintelligible mess, and the boys may or may not have blacked out as she went on and on and on.

Finally she paused, breathed, and rested her chin on her folded hands with a cheeky grin. “And, of course, gold goes first.”

Hunk blinked, then whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Did you get any of that?”

“Uhh, maybe half?” Keith replied in the same manner.

“Got it.” Pidge stretched her fingers with a satisfying crackle and leaned against the table, returning the smirk. “Let’s play.”

Her teammates let out identical an “Hah?” gawking at her while Glynora’s smile widened. She snapped her fingers, activating a holographic timer next to them. Pidge made her first move without hesitation.

Back and forth the two went, their pieces slowly crossing into each others territory, some getting snatched as they went. Neither needed more than a few seconds to analyze and complete their turns. The guys’ eyes darted over the board as they struggled a bit to keep up with their complex strategies. However, an unsettling pattern was beginning to emerge. While the number of captured stones was relatively even on both sides, a disproportionate amount of Pidge’s had rather high point values, and Glynora’s were all rather low.

‘Could just be luck of the shuffle,’ she pondered, eyeing the scene. ‘Or…’

“C’mon, Pidge, you got this,” Hunk quietly urged.

“Kick her butt,” said Keith.

She may never admit it, but their encouragement made her smile. Taking a deep breath, she resumed. It was time to switch plans.

Several minutes more passed, the air growing thicker and thicker with each move made and stone lost. Then it was over. Glynora had successfully created the shape. The clock stopped.

“Aw, too bad,” she said, not sounding at all remorseful. “But decent for your first time, I suppose.”

Pidge cleared her throat. “Doesn’t the other player get one last turn before the game is called?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. By all means.”

‘As if anything could help her at this point. My foolproof strategy — and an extra touch — ensures complete and utter victory. Of course, I’ll still sell them the flizblazinator, but only as a pity prize with a higher price—’

Pidge hopped one of her pieces back and forth over the entirety of the “V” in a single move, taking every piece she eliminated.

‘…Huh?’

Glynora blinked at the board; the board which now held only one of her blue stones. ‘W-What!? When—How—What just—!?’

“You know,” said Pidge, leaning against the table as she inspected one of them, “it’s really funny the kinds of mistakes people make when they’re convinced they’re going to win, like not caring how many pieces they lose.” She adjusted her posture to face the woman fully. A dark yet cheeky expression bloomed on her face. “Or not thinking your opponent would notice if you, say, pre-set the game so all of their most valuable pieces are up front while yours are safe in the back.”

“Th-Th—Tha—That’s outrageous! How dare you question my integrity! You’re just some trifling child! I-In fact, how do I know you didn’t—”

Pidge smirked, glancing down. Glynora’s eyes went wide. In her anger, she’d stood up. At once, holograms declaring the winner and loser of the match appeared, and she dropped back into her seat with a defeated noise, signaling the lights to turn back on.

“Alright, way to go, little buddy!” said Hunk, picking her up in a big bear hug and making her laugh.

“You…” Everyone turned to Keith. An aura of pure fury surrounded him. “…were going to cheat her?”

A harsh gulp sounded from the shopkeeper’s throat.

Still holding Pidge, Hunk placed a cautious hand on Keith’s shoulder, saying, “Easy, pal. Deep breaths, remember?”

Although still nervous under the venomous glare and sour over her loss, Glynora was true to her word, and after resetting her shop, she handed over the flizblazinator. It turned out to be a cash register-shaped device that was an important component for custom energy generators.

As she watched Pidge examine it from behind the counter, Hunk came up and asked, “Are you sure we don’t have to pay you?”

‘We’d better not.’ Keith shot another look over his shoulder.

“You won, you keep it,” she replied in a weary, cross tone as she waved her hand.

“Heck yeah, I did,” said Pidge, her attention still fixed on the machine in her hands. “But I definitely want to improve before I play again. I wonder if the castle has a computer version I can practice with… Anyway, see ya!”

Glynora stared after the trio, her gaze lingering on the door long after they’d gone. Very slowly, her hand lifted to her heart. ‘She…enjoyed the game?’ Joy surged through her. ‘She enjoys the game! I have brought a new glorblonthian checkers player into the universe! Wondrous! Perhaps she’ll like the other games I’ve mastered—oh, I cannot wait! But first I must clean up their filth.’

Just outside the store, the trio gathered at the railing of the walkway, still wary of the people bustling by, where Pidge scanned the flizblazinator into her ‘pic. “One down, two to go. What’s our next stop?”

Lifting his own ‘pic, Keith scanned the list and replied, “Looks like it’s here.”

“Sweet!”

“But…” He moved the holographic map up, allowing it to sync with the layout of the station. Once it had, a dot appeared over their destination…directly above them; aka, on the exact opposite side of the asteroid.

“Aw, man,” said Hunk, he and his teammates slumping as they sighed and groaned.

———————————

“Okay, take two,” Lance said to himself.

Luckily, a quick trip to the bathroom had relieved his stomach issues and he could now get the second date location set up. If he played his cards right, it would be even more romantic than the first. The thought spurred his feet faster down the hallway until he reached the main ballroom.

He rubbed his hands together almost giddily. ‘This’ll be perfect. A little dancing, a little chillin’, and all her worries will be long gone thanks to moi.’ Puffing up his chest, he took a step through the opening door. ‘Just gotta get the mood set up and—’

“—almost forgotten how large it was.”

He stopped in his tracks and ducked behind the doorway. Peeking his head out, he spotted none other than Allura and her father at the bottom of the steps, walking as they admired the elegant construction and vaulted ceiling.

“I remember how you used to twirl ‘round and ‘round in here,” said Alfor with a laugh, “even when there was no ball. I can still hear you giggling.”

“The celebrations were always so grand,” said Allura wistfully, slowly spinning in place. “The music, the decor, the gowns. Oh, how I wish we could have had more.”

“Perhaps we shall again. We are entering a new age of alliances, after all.” He realized his mistake too late.

At the word “new” she faltered slightly and again looked around the ballroom, which suddenly felt far, far too big. “Perhaps…”

“Oh, we definitely can.” The two turned in surprise to see Lance sauntering down the staircase. “In fact, I was about to ask if you wanted to dance.”

Suppressing a sigh, Allura answered, “Thank you for the offer, Lance, but I fear I do not. Perhaps I shall take a stroll about the castle with the mice.”

She moved to walk past, only for him to jump in the way. “Why stroll when you can dance? Especially with me.” His smoldering grin nearly had her rolling her eyes as she and her father shared a glance. “Besides, this place has been party-less for way too long. I say we throw up some decorations, get some music going, and start having some real fun. That frown’ll be upside down before you know it!”

A part of her wanted to say no so emphatically he would never ask again, but a different part made her pause. She knew he had no idea how to perform an Altean waltz, nor any other dance from her homeworld, however she also knew walking the lonely corridors would only end back in her bedroom, where she would undoubtedly stay. The memory of her father teasing her for sulking made the notion even less appealing.

“It would be nice to dance again,” Allura eventually said. “Though I doubt either of us know the other’s steps.”

“No worries. I’m a fast learner,” said Lance, taking her hand before turning to Alfor. “Care to help us out, Your Kingliness?”

The man’s eyes darted between the two. At a nod from his daughter, he slowly replied, “Very well.”

With the snap of a finger, holograms of banners and swaths of bunted fabric appeared on the walls, deep blue beautifully accented by shining gold trim and insignias. Columns sprouted from the floor holding large, hovering vases overflowing with vibrant flowers and were soon joined by more as hanging planters materialized on either side of the pennants. It all came together in a simple yet gorgeous design which, quite frankly, was a lot more elegant than what Lance had imagined. Nevertheless, the exact look of the room didn’t matter to him very much. The music that started up, on the other hand, did. A lilting melody drifted through the air, performed by an instrument he didn’t recognize, the tempo quickening a little as more instruments joined in. It had something of an odd beat, but upon seeing Allura take a starting position, Lance swiftly shunted any doubts to the basement of his mind and mirrored her.

“So, uh, what kind of dance is this?” he asked as he did his best to mimic her movements, stilted and unsteady as he was.

“It is Ionan ballroom dancing,” she replied, “notable for never allowing anything but the partners’ hands to touch.”

“Yeah, I’m picking up on that.”

Through all the spins and strange motions, not once had they gotten closer than half an arm’s length to each other — not exactly the waltz he’d been hoping for. But maybe he could change that. Inch by inch, he began shifting closer, his intentions hidden in the swaying steps.

Up on the wrap-around balcony above, Shiro scrutinized the pair. While he realized he might’ve been too overbearing before, he still got a bad feeling about this. (If Pidge or Keith had been there, they probably would’ve said his “brother senses” were tingling.)

“Ever the watchful one, aren’t you?” said Coran as he came up behind the man.

“Could say the same about you,” he replied, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the guard rail. “Do you have us microchipped or something?”

“Oh, I have no need. I simply follow the scent of lovestruck youths. It is quite pungent this time of year.”

Shiro scrunched up his nose and gave a small laugh, then turned back to the scene below. “I think it’s more of a singular youth.”

An amused huff answered him, his companion nodding in agreement. For a few tics, they simply watched, a comfortable quiet settling over them.

Glancing over, Shiro asked, “So, how are you doing? You feeling the holiday blues, too?”

Coran considered for a moment. “Yes. But I still have my duties to perform, a castle to repair, and my princess to look after, so I am well occupied. Plus, that little show earlier certainly brightened the mood.”

Both men chuckled, turning languidly back to the greater ballroom.

“Let us hope there is not a second,” said Alfor, materializing next to them.

It appeared, however, that might be the case. Down on the floor, Allura was beginning to catch on to her dance partner’s plan, his movements straying from hers.

“Lance, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Just spicing things up, Princess,” he replied with his typical nonchalant grin.

In response, she began backing up. “Ionan ballroom dancing is the same for men and women” — Likely why her father had chosen the song — “and as I said, they stay apart.”

“But how could I stay apart from you?” He slipped a step closer. “When every day your gravity draws me in, mi estrella.”

“That is very flattering, but I would much prefer if we danced—”

“Like no one was watching? You read my mind, babe.”

Before she could correct him, their hands touched again and he used the opportunity to pull her tighter, his arm wrapping around her waist. Their pace picked up, movements growing wilder, even with the partners now mere inches apart. Lance’s smile widened, his eyes practically closed, but it only served to deepen Allura’s frown. On the next turn, she grabbed his hands and spun him away like a ballerina onto his butt.

“Just follow the steps!” she bellowed, then stormed out of the room through a side door.

Shaking off his dizziness, Lance stared after her, rubbing his head. ‘What was that about?’

Had he stepped on her foot? Been too rough when pulling her in? Did his breath stink? Whatever it was, it left a sour taste in his mouth, which in turn spurred him to his feet and up the stairs. He had to fix this before Allura hated him forever!

The three men watching from above shared a look.

“I’ve got him,” said Shiro with a sigh, following Lance.

“We have her,” Coran echoed as he headed back the way he came and Alfor vanished.

———————————

At long, long last, the trio of Earthlings crossed the final bridge to the “ceiling” of Ylixis Station.

“Please tell me we’re here,” panted Hunk, leaning on his knees as Pidge slumped against him.

“Should be.” Keith brought up his ‘pic to confirm, and it appeared they were. However, when the 3D map adjusted to their new location, the dot shifted slightly. Tilting it, his confusion was overtaken by concern. “Uh, guys?”

The pair squinted at the screen for a moment, then reflected their friend’s expression. The place they were looking for was on the bottom layer of buildings — the very bottom.

“Of course,” Pidge moaned, letting her head fall again.

“Still think this is worth it?” asked Keith.

Hunk only needed a second to consider. “Absolutely.”

Keith nodded and let his arm fall, stowing the map. “Alright.”

After a quick glance around, he started down a street, prompting the others to hurry after him.

“Where’re you going?” asked Pidge.

“Looking,” he answered almost absentmindedly.

“For what?”

“That.”

Stopping beside him, the two saw it as well. A spacious platform set several feet into the wall of buildings rose and docked, the wire gates sliding open to let the small crowd of people and crates off. The trio slipped past them and took their place on the lift, thankfully alone, spotting the control panel next to the door and selecting the lowest button. A strained beep sounded as the gates scraped closed and the elevator began its descent. Its very, very slow descent.

Like sinking into molasses, the platform moved, a faint screech bouncing off the walls as it managed to make it to the next level. Keith cringed at the rusty noise; Hunk was eyeing the surprisingly low-tech design of the old machine. They exchanged a knowing, concerned look while Pidge impatiently tapped one of her crossed arms.

They waited. And waited… And waited…

It was monotony at its finest. The instant the second screech rang out, she simply couldn’t take it anymore. She began jumping in place with aggravated grunts, trying to use her feeble weight to speed things along.

“No-no-no-wait—!”

“Stop-stop-stop—!”

Her friends’ warnings came just a hair too late.

The corroded rails let out a loud CHUNK and the lift dropped. Screams flooded the tunnel as it sped toward the ground, the Earthlings clinging to whatever happened to be nearby. A mere few feet before they crashed, a magnetic force slowed the platform, allowing it to sink into its dock at a far more friendly speed. Once it clunked into place, the doors slipped open with a chipper ding. The passengers within did not share the sentiment.

Blinking away his adrenaline-induced daze, Keith found himself holding Hunk bridal style while Pidge was latched onto his face from behind like a demented backpack. Both were trembling from head to toe and clinging to him for dear life.

He cleared his throat. “We’re alive.”

“You s-s-sure?” warbled Hunk.

“Yes, and there’s a crowd, so please let go.”

The duo snapped to alertness. Upon seeing the bemused aliens staring at them, they quickly hopped off their comrade with bashful smiles. They hurried out of the lift, Hunk muttering apologies as they went, and reconvened outside a nearby store.

“Ookay, GPS Guy, where to now?” asked Pidge when her nerves had settled.

Briefly pulling up the map, Keith replied, “Just a couple blocks.”

“Good, ‘cause somehow I get the feeling we don’t want to stick around too long,” said Hunk.

As if to confirm his observation, a surge of screams echoed from the elevator as it shot up via its new high gear. With tight expressions, the trio glanced at each other.

“Go. Go, go, go,” Keith urged in a whisper, and they made a hasty retreat down one of the streets.

Despite mirroring the upper levels in design, they found the bottom layer of the station to have a distinctly shadier aura — literally. It was as if it were suddenly the dead of night, the light from above unable to illuminate anything, stopped by a thick gloom. The flickering signs and amber glow from the sparse street lamps added a thick, almost sweltering air. And speaking of air, the filter for that level must’ve been malfunctioning because there was an array of acrid scents clogging it. What was causing them, the trio very much didn’t want to know. Few people were on the sidewalks, all of them somehow shiftier than those they’d already encountered, either keeping their heads down or glaring from an alleyway. Droids of various makes and models occasionally appeared, skittering or drifting by, many clearly not wanting to be seen, their mismatched, rusted parts glinting eerily in the stuffy light.

Even the music was different, the trio noticed as they turned a corner. Above, it had been upbeat and loud, almost to an annoying degree, yet here it kept low and slow, giving the impression of being played by an old jukebox in some distant diner. Eateries seemed few and far between, though. Far more common were bars and clubs, most likely outfitted with some form of soundproofing to keep their noise contained, save for the slivers which eked through the doors when a patron entered or exited. The smoke that followed the customers was likely a contributor to the colorful bouquet wafting about.

“And the seedy establishment we’re aiming for would be..?” Hunk trailed off as Keith stopped in front of a bar, its name translating as Volts And Vertex. A muscle-ridden bouncer glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. “Terrific.”

Steeling himself, Keith said quietly, “In and out. Touch nothing, talk to no one.”

His teammates nodded fervently. With him in front, flashing Manset’s card, the man made no move against them entering, though the expression on his angular face said he wasn’t happy about it. The wave of cigar smoke nearly knocked them back out, as did the unwelcoming stares they got under the uncomfortably warm orange-and-green lighting. Thankfully, those were few, and the trio hastily made for the bar, where a lanky, six-armed, mustachioed robot was simultaneously cleaning glasses, filling out tabs, and sliding drinks to waiting customers.

“What would a place like this even sell?” whispered Pidge. “Well, besides…” She jutted her head at a table where some sloshed patrons were cackling like a pack of hyenas.

‘Good question.’ Keith lifted his gendopic and subtly checked the list again. What he read nearly made him break his stride. “Quintessence.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “As in, the stuff Balmeran crystals are made of?”

“Guess so.” Keith held up the card again once he reached the counter, catching the barkeep’s attention. “We’re here to complete a shipment from not too long ago: a small crate of quintessence.”

He did his best to keep his voice as low as he could while making sure to be heard over the din of the crowd, but it turned out to not be enough. The robot’s vision drifted to a nearby seat where a large alien took a swig of his drink and then set the mug down with a deep thud.

“Manset’s sendin’ runts now?” he said with a harsh laugh, fixing the trio with a snide look. “Old sod must really be in trouble to rely on the likes o’ you.”

“Money’s no problem,” Keith told the bartender.

“Oi!” The brutish alien slammed his fist on the counter, suddenly on his feet and leaning uncomfortably close. “I’m talkin’ to you!”

“I’m not,” he replied cooly.

“Well, you’d better start, ‘cause those crates come from me.”

“Well, you should’ve led with that.”

He turned and crossed his arms, finally granting the stranger his attention. In a word: ogre. Leathery, dark grey skin, tusks curling up from his mouth, and a physique similar to Hunk’s, albeit a little bigger (in both senses of the word). His smushed nose gave him a uniquely hog-like appearance, though.

A sneer pulled at his lips, twisting his features worse than before. “You talk pretty big for such a scrawny thing. What, this your first milk run for daddy?”

Keith’s face darkened. Drunken chortles arose from the alien and his friends, catching more of the bar’s attention.

“Is that one even old enough to be in here?” one of them called, pointing to Pidge.

She bristled, but was saved from starting something when Hunk wrapped an arm around her. Unfortunately, it drew their mockery to him.

“Is that one stuffed?”

A fist tightened.

“I think he’s about to wet himself!”

More laughter shook the room. Hunk shrunk back. The confidence he’d been building the past couple weeks seemed to leave him as the scornful sound grew louder—

BANG!

Silence.

Every head turned to Keith and the cylinder of GAC he’d slammed onto the counter.

“We came here to do business,” he growled, barley able to keep the venom in his voice to a minimum, “not be insulted. If you don’t want the payday, there’s a hundred other places that do. Or” — His gaze narrowed at the guarded glint in the big man’s eye — “we can settle this the old-fashioned way.”

While the boarish alien leaned back a little, something of a smirk spreading on his face, a more insectoid man came up beside him, chittering, “C’mon, Brol, let’s splatter these punks and get it over with.”

“Yeah, let’s shred ‘em, boss!” a third guy called.

“You win, you keep the shipment and the money,” Keith went on. “I win, we keep it, and everyone walks out of here alive.”

“Keith, what are you doing?” Hunk said between his teeth as a chuckle rippled through the crowd.

“Yeah, at least let us help you put these snarts in their place,” added Pidge, much to his horrified disbelief.

“I’ve got this,” said Keith.

The laughter spread to Brol, and he turned to his crew, his hands spreading out in an odd gesture. Its purpose was quickly made clear. He spun around, backhanding Keith halfway across the bar and into a table, knocking it over in a burst of dust. The patrons busted up at the sight of his leg dangling over the top while his friends gaped.

“Now” — The huge alien grabbed his mug — “which one ‘o you sods is next?”

He took a long swig as the audience cheered. Then something large and round collided with his head, smashing his mug into his face and sending him flat onto the floor. A hush took the room. Everyone looked to the source of the now-rolling tabletop to see Keith. With great effort, Brol yanked his mug from his face, spilling beer everywhere as he coughed and spluttered. He cleared the ale from his eyes and glared at the upstart sauntering toward him.

Once he was halfway to the alien, Keith paused and cracked his neck. “That would be you.”

The brute wiped the drink from his jaw and launched himself upright with a furious yell.

‘Right hook.’

Keith slipped under, landing a counter punch clear through his fat to his kidney. He grunted, then whirled around. Two more wild blows. They caught nothing but air.

“Stay still!”

‘Double axe.’

He veered out of the way, letting Brol smash a table instead, then spun, tight and controlled, and slammed his heel into the side of the man’s knee. Brol shuttered, collapsing for a moment, then let out a rattling war cry and swung around.

‘Uppercut.’

A step of out range, and a jab to his windpipe cut off the shout. Wheezing and clutching his throat, the grey alien stumbled back. Swiftly regaining his breath, he snarled.

‘Haymaker.’

It was almost too easy to catch the passing wrist and drive his elbow into Brol’s joint with a distinct pop. Another howl escaped from leathery lips. He pulled back and held his arm close, nearly gawking at the young man settling into a ready stance.

‘What the quiznack is this kid made out of!?’ Seeing his tauntingly stoic face, Brol decided it didn’t matter. With another roar, he charged.

‘Right hook—no, it’s injured. Feint!’

In dodging the false strike, Keith altered his posture, and when the real one came, he was ready. He snatched the oversized arm, grabbed a fistful of the alien’s greasy shirt, pivoted, and used his momentum to flip Brol onto a table, the metal crumpling and splintering under his weight.

His wheezing groan filled the silence. Not one of the bar patrons dared to move a muscle until the victor turned to them, causing a collective flinch. It wasn’t hard to understand why; Brol had easily been the biggest guy there besides the bouncer. Not even his crewmates seemed keen on avenging their boss after witnessing him get trounced by someone half his size. The other Earthlings shared in their amazement.

Keith stared at the crumpled Brol. ‘Sloppy. If I’d gone for a kick to his temple, jaw, or neck, I could’ve ended the fight after the first swing. And I nearly fell for that obvious feint. Moron. Still can’t control your emotions. Still, though…’ His eyes narrowed. ‘No one mocks my team.’

He let out a steadying breath, then walked to the bar and slid the stack of GAC to the robot. “Sorry for the mess. Now to get that shipment.” He eyed the insectoid alien from earlier, who turned away and slurped his drink loudly, shoulders hiked up to his antennae.

A clunk returned Keith’s attention to the counter where a small black crate now sat. The Earthlings stared at it in surprise, glancing at the bartender casually cleaning a glass. Sharing a shrug with the boys, Pidge pressed the button on the corner. A small beep sounded and the top opened to show six canisters roughly the size of thermoses, but when Keith took one out, he noticed something odd.

“Green?” said Pidge. “I thought it was supposed to be blue, like in the castle. Why would the same kind of energy come in different colors?”

“Quintessence has the highest known energy-per-unit volume in the universe,” said the robotic barkeep in a slightly choppy, monotone voice. “However, raw quintessence must be refined in order to meet standardized fuel requirements. When first extracted, it is translucent and yellow, and upon proper refinement becomes luminous blue. However, such a process is impossible to complete without a mystic, and thus mass-produced quintessence is only half-refined.”

‘Huh. Guess he was an information droid in a past life.’ Pidge was suddenly very curious about who made him.

“Hence the color,” said Hunk. ‘But the Galra’s ships all run on a purple form. At least, I’m guessing since their lights are that color. Could it be the result of condensing it after refinement?’

Judging by their furrowed brows, his teammates were likely thinking the same thing, Keith in particular. This was only partially true. The longer he held the canister, the tinglier his palm felt, as if the bubbles within were seeping into his skin. He could feel the crystal under his shirt faintly vibrate, like it knew the other energy source was near. Something deep in the back of his head and gut was close to joining it.

Slipping the smaller container back into the larger one, he closed the lid and carefully slung it under his arm. “Let’s go.”

With his companions on his heels, he gave a nod of thanks to the bartender and headed out into the dim space station streets, though not before a dazed voice reached his ears.

“Oi,” called Brol, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself to his knees, “we ain’t done yet. You ‘ear me? We ain’t done!”

Not a glance was spared as the door closed behind the three Earthlings, though the younger two did share a glance. But if Keith wasn’t stopping, neither were they.

“Hey, um,” said Hunk as he jogged to his teammate, “thanks for standing up for us back there. I mean, beating the guy up might’ve been a bit much—”

“I would’ve done it,” Pidge cut in.

He shot her a look. “But still. Thanks.”

Keith paused. Still facing forward, he replied, “I was always going to beat him.” Something dark glinted in the eye he glanced over his shoulder. “That meathead just chose how badly.”

He then resumed walking, not seeming to notice how his teammates stared at him before their eyes slowly drifted to one another.

“Stay on his good side?” Pidge muttered.

Hunk nodded.

They jogged to catch up, Hunk asking, “So, uh, what’s next, pal?”

Checking the list, Keith replied, “…Beans.”

“Seriously?” said Pidge dully. “Defenders of the Universe and deliverers of beans. My mom would be so proud.”

———————————

Energy black as tar crackled through the air, swirling around and around, then condensed into the form of a sphere. An apparatus, its claws reaching down from the ceiling, helped keep it stable. The dark star pulsed in anticipation, growing larger with each wave and sending out flashes of lightning. The Druids below paid it no mind even as it snapped past them. In unison, they lifted their arms, beckoning the power to surge toward the pentagon below, funneling every last ounce of it into the kneeling man within. The heavy cloak enshrouding him fluttered and flowed wildly in the unearthly wind, the bulky armor pieces atop it the only things keeping it attached to his body. The light shone brighter and brighter until, with a final flash, it subsided and the air went still.

“How do you feel, sire?” asked Haggar, allowing the runes on the floor to fade and her followers to disperse.

The Emperor rose to his full height, overshadowing her with ease. Yet she felt no fear in his presence. She was one of the few beings under his protection.

Veins of electricity ran up Zarkon’s neck, dissipating just before reaching his jaw. The violet glow of his eyes flared, and he took a long, deep, satisfied breath. “Powerful enough to claim the Lions myself.”

She chuckled. “Excellent.”

“My lady,” said a Druid as she emerged from the shadows and bowed, “we have completed the ritual.”

“Successfully?”

She hesitated. “Yes, but not as well as was hoped.”

With a lowered head, she produced a vile from her sleeve and presented it to her mistress. Haggar scrutinized the energy within, twisting it this way and that, watching how it flowed and surged. Her eyes narrowed at the underwhelming response to the movement.

“You performed the ritual exactly as I instructed?” Her voice carried a dangerous edge.

“Yes, High One,” the Druid swiftly replied.

A hum bordering on a growl came from the witch. “Prepare it again. I will conduct the second trial myself.”

“By your word, Priestess.”

As she slunk back into the darkness, Zarkon stepped forward. “Another new project?”

“An old one, actually,” Haggar replied, turning to him, though her glare was still focused on the quintessence in her hand. “The one we used to discuss.”

“I thought that was left to the realm of fantasy.”

“Not fantasy, merely time.” She placed the vial on one of the many shelves lining the walls, next to an array of others of varying sizes and colors, all from similar failed experiments. “And it requires a bit more, it seems. But very soon, it will be complete, and the universe shall truly be ours.”

“Voltron will stand in the way.”

“It will fall. Just as all others who would dare challenge your might.”

A low chuff echoed quietly through the room. Dark quintessence ran down the ancient Emperor’s arms, crackling around his hands as he clenched them with a restrained burst of power. Far too long had his claws been idle, barred from the thrill of battle and victory. They itched for blood. Perhaps, if the next beast failed, they may have it.

———————————

Heavy footsteps echoed as Lance jogged down the corridor, forcing his legs to keep a steady pace in spite of how long he’d been going. At last, he reached Blue’s hangar and slowed down.

“Third time’s the charm,” he said through his panting, placing his fists on his hips. “Or, at least, maybe it is—hopefully. Now, time to make the ca—”

“Let me guess.”

He shrieked and jumped back from the step he’d been about to take, flailing into what could possibly be considered a defensive stance by the dimwitted.

“Romantic flight?”

Shiro’s posture may have been relaxed, half-leaning, half-sitting on the Lion’s paw, but Lance had heard that undertone enough times in his childhood to know a lecture was on the horizon. He also knew from those experiences that he might be able to find a way around it, so he uncoiled himself and gave a cool smile.

“Hey, Captain, fancy bumping into you here. Look, I realize you probably heard what happened in the ballroom—”

“Saw it, actually.”

‘Oooohh, snart.’

“—but you’ve got nothing to worry about. As soon as I get her in the air, I’ll apologize to Allura, we’ll do a couple laps of the plains, see the sights, come back, and things’ll be o-ki-zay.”

“Apologize for what?” asked Shiro, absentmindedly fiddling with an alien fruit.

Lance paused. “What?”

“You said you’re going to apologize. For what, exactly?”

Blowing air through squeezed lips, he replied, “F-For what happened in the ballroom.”

“And what exactly did happen in the ballroom?”

‘Okay, now he’s just being cryptic for the sake of being cryptic.’ Yet, as Lance thought over the question, he found himself unable to find an answer. Truth be told, it had been bugging him in the back of his mind the entire jog.

“…Bad dancing?” It wasn’t one of his better smiles.

A tired sigh slipped from Shiro’s mouth, and he patted the metal next to him. Understanding it was unavoidable, Lance wandered over and plopped onto the offered paw space.

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted, resting his cheek on his fist. “I mean, things were going so well at first, you know? The music was kinda weird but fun, and the dancing, too, and then I was holding her, and then…” A heavy breath made his shoulders sag. “Then, I don’t know. I guess she didn’t like how I was doing things?”

“And why do you think that is?” Shiro flipped the fruit around, examining the top and bottom.

With a rough groan, Lance flopped forward, flinging his hands up exaggeratedly as he spoke. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s alien royalty? But that’s never put a wedge in our relationship before. We’ve been on missions together, she knows what I’m like, so why is it such a problem now—could you please stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” asked Shiro casually.

“That!” Lance pointed to his half-lidded eyes and raised brow, which formed an expression that was somehow both flat and pointed.

“Well, why do you think I’m making i—”

“Okay, cryptic time’s over! Could you please just tell me what the problem was?!”

Schooling his face (and resisting the urge to smirk), Shiro replied, “You changed the steps.”

“Yeah, so?!” Lance seemed close to hysterics.

“Imagine this,” Shiro began slowly. “You’re lightyears away from home with no way to go back. There are maybe two people with you that you know, the rest are strangers. Then a holiday from your homeland comes around, and instead of celebrating with your family — because you can’t — you get pulled through the day by some alien who’s just doing stuff he likes and messing with your traditions. How would you feel?”

Lance looked to the floor. It wasn’t hard to imagine. If he’d been trying to celebrate Carnaval and some jerk forced him to spend the whole day at the Natural History Museum instead, he’d have lost his mind. Was he really being that guy?

“I just…wanted her to have fun.”

“I know. But you need to ask yourself ‘Is this something that will make her happy, or is it something that’ll just make me happy?’”

He mulled it over, then shrugged sheepishly. “It makes the girls back home happy.”

“Allura’s not like the girls back home.” A sense of exasperation was creeping into Shiro’s voice even as he let out a faint laugh. “They haven’t lost what she has. These holidays, these little traditions, they’re all she has left of Altea. This isn’t about what you want for her. It’s about what she wants.”

Lance’s gaze returned to his shoes. Coming from anyone else, he might’ve blown them off, but this was Shiro he was talking to. Reluctantly, he huffed, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good man,” said Shiro, giving him a firm pat on the back before returning to the food he was holding.

“What is that?” asked Lance. It looked like a dragonfruit crossed with an artichoke, but light blue with yellow tips on the “leaves.”

“Not entirely sure,” Shiro replied, positioning his thumb on the top. “Coran said it’s called a Greek—gyro—something—whatever. I can never remember alien names. He also said to push down…”

As he applied more pressure, the center of the fruit gave way, smushing down and causing the scaly outer segments to loosen like a blooming onion. Matching “Oooh”s came from the Earthlings. They glanced at one another, then each pulled off a piece and popped them into their mouths, careful not to eat the leafy ends. Their faces puckered at the flavor.

“Sour,” said Shiro through pursed lips.

Lance smacked as the aftertaste came through. “Yet sweet.”

A second glance. They grabbed more.

Meanwhile, Allura sat on her bedroom floor, lazily toying with an orb of fire between her fingers. Her mice nuzzled close on her shoulder, offering what comfort they could with their little squeaks. Coran and her father sat on her left and right.

“I am sorry things are not going as we had hoped,” said Alfor softly.

“We?” she repeated in an accusing tone.

“…As I had hoped.”

She let out a short breath, the flame flaring slightly.

“Surely it was not all bad,” Coran piped up. “The afternoon tea was—”

“A waste of time.” The orb grew larger.

Guilt flickered across his face. “Ah… Well, I would not go that far…”

“Really? After everything that has been done — or rather, has not been done?” Her fire crackled with every word. “Has the proper decor been arranged? No. Have any of the traditional games been played? Certainly not. Has the Chozzerai Ball been mentioned, let alone discussed? Not. Even. Close! Everything that’s happened has been the result of an inept outsider who can’t so much as dance properly!”

“Be careful how you speak, young lady,” her father said, an edge rising in his voice. “Versed in our traditions or not, these Humans are more than allies, they are our friends.”

“Friends would understand enough to not making a mockery of another’s holiday,” Allura replied bitterly.

“He wasn’t mocking anything,” said Coran. “I believe he genuinely wants to celebrate with you. He was merely overenthusiastic.”

The fire flickered again. “That’s no excuse! If he truly wanted that, there are thousands of other ways he could’ve gone about it. He chose the way he wanted and didn’t care about the consequences and now everything’s ruined and there’s nothing I can do to fix it!”

Just when the fire was about to break free of her control, Allura snapped her hand closed, snuffing it in a burst of sparks and flame. Without it, the room was left dim and quiet. Then her fist started to tremble. It spread to the rest of her body, her head sinking to her knees as she hugged her legs to her chest.

“I just want to fix it…” she whispered in a small, broken voice. Soft shudders wracked her shoulders, the tips of her ears drooping and turning a deep blue. “I want to go home.”

Her dear mice chirped sorrowfully and pressed closer, rubbing their little heads against her cheeks. On either side, Coran and Alfor held their girl tight, the warmth of their embrace creating a cocoon of comfort and safety.

“That would be the greatest gift in the cosmos,” said Alfor in a quiet voice. “But the past is an unfixable thing. The sorrow need not last, however, for every chapter has an ending, and though we cannot turn the pages back, we can choose what to write next.”

Allura’s tears slowed into hiccups. Ever so slightly, she raised her eyes. ‘We can choose what to write…We can choose.’

“Yet I am not the only author,” she murmured at length.

Coran replied, “And for that, I’m grateful. How boring would life be if we all had the same story?” He leaned back a little so he could see her properly, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Then we wouldn’t have such wonderful and unexpected tales, like when you snuck into the kitchens and terrorized the cooks by swiping parts of dinner.”

She ducked her head, heat rising in her cheeks.

Her father chuckled, adding, “And the time you accidentally let your mother’s gerbils loose in the air ducts, and they ended up startling an entire platoon of men out of their shorts in the changing room.”

A giggle slipped from her throat. “It was a sight I shan’t soon forget.”

Their quiet laughter brought a deeper warmth than any hug alone could, filling her all the way to her toes. She could feel her ears wiggle a touch, the blue tinge fading away, when the sound of the intercom turning on stole the Alteans’ attention.

“Princess, would you meet me in the Blue Lion’s hangar? I’d like to talk to you.”

Lance’s voice rang with apprehension, an emotion reflected on Allura’s face as her gaze drifted from the ceiling back to the floor. On the one hand, his tone seemed to suggest he was ready to be serious; on the other, she could easily see him using it as a ploy to ensnare her in yet another of his little schemes. The touch of her father’s hand on her’s cut her internal debate short.

“A new page,” he said with a gentle squeeze.

Ghostly though it was, the feeling eased the knot that had formed in Allura’s stomach, as did Coran’s smile. Even the mice thought she should go, chittering and pointing to the door with excited hops and confident assurances of protecting her.

‘Always so brave,’ she thought, tickling Platt’s chubby belly and making him giggle.

Taking a long, deep breath, she stood and headed down, her companions close by her side.

Upon arriving, they spotted Lance standing below his Lion and chatting with Shiro, who noticed them first and motioned to his teammate.

Lance jogged over, something of a relieved look on his face, saying, “Hey, Princess. Glad I didn’t scare you away.”

“It will take much more than your antics to frighten me, I can assure you,” she replied. “What did you wish to see me about?”

For once, the smooth-talking teen appeared to be at a loss for words. He glanced back at Shiro, who nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just—I wanted to show you a good time, the only way I know how. But I realize now that was more for me than for you. I should’ve thought about what you wanted, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”

Allura blinked, pleasantly surprised, and smiled. “I forgive you. And I am sorry as well. Regardless of the reason, my conduct earlier was far from necessary or appropriate, especially for a lady.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time I’ve had a girl yell at me and it probably won’t be the last,” he said with a grin. “Still, I wish I’d looked more into what you’re supposed to do on Chozzerai so we could’ve avoided all this.”

“You should not trouble yourself with such regrets. I could have told you such things from the beginning. I did not because…” She squeezed her folded hands a bit tighter, willing away the hesitation in her throat. “Because I knew, no matter what, things would never again be as they were. That chapter of my life is over.”

It was a somber declaration, one which left a certain weight in the air as the others looked on sadly.

“Well,” Lance abruptly said, “how about starting this new chapter with a nice flight around Arus?” Allura and her mice narrowed their eyes at him skeptically. He held up one hand and placed the other over his heart. “No funny business, scout’s honor. But seeing how you’ve been cooped up inside all day, I thought getting out might be a nice change of pace.”

While her suspicion remained, she had to admit the thought was rather appealing.“I will hold you to your word, then.”

His grin widening, he hopped to the side and swept his arm toward Blue. “You’ve got it, m’lady.”

Although she rolled her eyes a little, she strode past him and into the Lion. He followed, keeping the happy bounce in his step to a minimum. Once they were settled in their seats, she took off, happily soaring into the sky and ducking through the few scattered, fluffy clouds. Seeing the beautiful plains stretch out before her and feeling the pleasant purr of Blue’s engine all around, Allura allowed herself to sink into her seat with a content sigh. Lance caught sight of her relaxing in the corner of his eye. Very quietly, he did a fist-pump.

Back in the hangar, as the three men stared after the Lion, Shiro held out what was left of his fruit. “Want one?”

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do,” said Coran, wiggling his fingers theatrically before plucking a piece and popping it into his mouth.

While the mice joined them in their puckering delight, Alfor could only look on in envy. ‘Why do you torture me like this?’

“By the way,” said Shiro, “have either of you heard from the others? I would’ve thought they’d be back by now.”

“Keith called in a short while ago,” Coran replied around a mouthful of sour, “said they were going to be a bit late.”

“I hope they have not run into trouble,” Alfor hummed.

“So long as they stick together, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Shiro paused. “…Probably.”

———————————

Lightning cracked the sky, sending wave after wave of deafening thunder to rattle the ground. Its light merged with a hundred other colors, staining the inky clouds and turning them into a roiling canvas of blinding hues. The wind roared almost as loud as the rumbling stone as it battered the scraggly trees and jagged mountains, threatening to split them all in two.

Three pairs of wide eyes blinked up at the sight.

“…You sure this is the right place?” asked Pidge.

“Unfortunately, yes,” answered Keith, checking his ‘pic. “According to the castle’s records, fluuto beans only grow on the highest peak of Planet Cezz.”

“Okay, cool, great, now, does it say anything about the massive death storm?!” She flung her arms forward in time with another bolt of lightning.

He read aloud, “‘Powerful geomagnetic storms assault the region quintantly, affecting any and all ships within its vicinity. Thus it is only accessible at certain interludes, and it is recommended to only visit during these times.’ Doesn’t say anything about lightning, so I’m guessing that part’s just a regular thunderstorm.”

“Fantastic. Well, speak now or forever hold your beans, I guess.”

“We can wait until the weather clears up.”

“No,” said Hunk, his voice an octave lower than usual. “This storm is merely a trial. A trial to keep those faint of heart from the great prize that lies beyond. But our hearts are stronger than any buffeting wind, than any churning sky or forks of light! We must press on, and when we reach that summit, we will say ‘You shall never break us of our cooking spirit!’”

While the other two glanced at each other, he boldly opened the canopy, stepped outside the shuttle — and at a sudden, much louder crack of thunder, immediately jumped back inside with a yelp and closed it.

“But, y’know, l-let’s get a bit closer first, maybe. We probably don’t wanna be out there too long.”

Their faces went flat. ‘There it is.’

Regardless, Keith did as asked, maneuvering the ship up the mountainside. He kept close to whatever flat patches he could find in case of engine failure, though it seemed their instruments would be the first to go. The higher they got, the more static clouded the screens, including the window. Eventually, they were forced to set down on a terrace halfway up, or else lose visibility completely.

“You sure we can’t park closer?” Hunk called over the raging wind.

“Even if we kept the hatch open so we could see — which is a terrible idea, by the way, for so many reasons — trying to push any kind of tech through this level of electromagnetic distortion could permanently damage it,” said Pidge. “We’ll want to leave our gendopics behind, too.”

“But how are we supposed to carry the beans without them?”

“With these.” Three small bags materialized from Keith’s ‘pic into his hand and he proceeded to give one to each of his companions.

“Why do you have these?” asked Pidge as she scrutinized the mesh.

“In case I need them,” he replied simply. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

With the bags in their pockets and ‘pics in the ship, the trio began their trek up the mountain. A small path wound around the sloped land, bit by bit becoming steeper and thinner while the wind howled at them to turn back. The peels of thunder seemed to agree with it, as did the lightning, which continued to strike the peaks with vengeance. Their only saving grace was the lack of rain, but they knew that could change at any moment, so they kept their pace brisk. Up and up and up they went, fighting to plant their feet on solid ground rather than over the cliff where the gales attempted to force them. Their already worn legs stiffened with every stride and their lungs started burning. The rugged path wasn’t helping matters, losing definition with each crest and turning into more of a staircase in some places. Eventually, they stopped at a decently wide section.

“Y’know, I’m starting to like Keith’s idea a lot more now,” Pidge panted as she leaned against a rock. “I vote we head back to the ship and wait out the storm.”

“But we’re so close,” said Hunk from his doubled over position, pointing up along the trail, “the summit’s right there! We can’t give up now!”

“This has already taken way too long,” replied Keith, a bit less winded than the others. “I’m not thrilled at the idea of quitting either, but we have to ask if this is really worth it.”

Very suddenly, their vision was filled with a wide-eyed Hunk staring into their souls. “Food is always worth it. Remember your cooking spirit. Always remember the unbreakable cooking spirit!” The pair glanced at each other, their faces twisted in bewilderment. “I’ll make your favorite desserts for a week. Please, I know we can do this. Together.”

Determination shone in his eyes. Keith and Pidge looked at each other again, a bout of lingering trepidation passing between them before the former took a breath.

“Okay,” he said. “Together.”

Their friend smiled. “You won’t regret this.”

“The only way I won’t is if these things are magic rainbow-colored miracle beans that can revive the dead or something,” said Pidge sourly.

Just then, a strange sound halted the resuming of their journey. From the sky came a wave of color. They braced themselves as it washed over them and the mountain, though it didn’t have much force behind it. Keith turned to Pidge in silent question.

“Just an electromagnetic burst,” she said. “They won’t affect us.”

He gave a nod and they resumed the trek, but it only lasted until they shuffled between  two boulders and saw what laid beyond. While Hunk was right about the top not being too far, that didn’t mean it was technically close either. It was just their luck. The ridge which should’ve connected the lower peak to the higher one was gone, leaving only a field of floating rocks in its place.

Keith resisted the urge to growl. “How is that even possible?”

“The stones must be packed with ore,” said Hunk. “The constant charge in the air turned them into magnets.”

“Still wanna keep going?” asked Pidge. “Those things might not be able to take our weight.”

“If we stick to the biggest ones, we should be alright. Right, Keith?”

The young man was almost startled when their attention turned to him. He shrugged. “You’re the geniuses. I just hit stuff.”

“Fair enough,” said Pidge.

They crept closer to the cliff, mapping out possible routes in their minds, and ignoring the intense vertigo.

“Okay,” said Hunk, taking a long, long breath, “I’ll go first. If they can hold my weight, they can hold your guys’s, right?”

His chuckle reminded the other two of Manset’s. Still, he raised a decent point. His heart stuttered at the massive gap stretching before him. Before his mind could convince him not to, he backed up a couple paces, then ran and jumped. The stone dipped at his landing and drifted forward. He squeaked in fright and clung to it, but after a few seconds, it rose back up. Very carefully, he stood, letting the wobbling dissipate as he secured his balance.

At his beckoning hand, Keith followed his example and stepped back. “I’ll take the left.”

Pidge nodded, and he charged forward. His rock did much the same as Hunk’s, and once it stabilized, she took it as her cue to leap to the middle one. The three mindfully continued on, using their momentum to their advantage — in more ways than one. The harder they came down on the magnets, the harder they sprang up, they found, reaching even higher than their original position, allowing them to travel up the cluster toward the opposing ledge.

Hopping to the next stone, Hunk took a second to catch his breath and look back. ‘Hey…I’m doing it! I’m doing the thing, and I’m not throwing up! Ha! Just wait until Lance hears about this!’

Even thinking was jinxing, it seemed.

As if Zeus himself was ticked at them making it so far, a hoard of lightning bolts split the air and a second electromagnetic surge sprang from the aurora above. It merged with the howling wind and slammed into them, knocking their paths out of alignment. Fortunately, it didn’t do more than that, and the Earthlings breathed a collective sigh of relief from where they knelt or lay clinging to their “rafts.” Not a second later, however, the same peculiar noise from before reached their ears. Then all at once, Hunk’s rock dropped, shoving his stomach into his throat; Pidge’s magnetically glued itself to another, leaving her sideways; and Keith went flying backward when his got close to two others.

Quickly leaping to one that was not spinning out of control, he yelled, “What the heck was that!?”

“Ok, those waves might be having an effect now,” said Pidge as she drifted past. “Their unstable particles are causing the polarization of rocks to change at random. Our odds of getting through here just fell thirty percent!”

“Well, that’s not a hundred percent, so I say we keep going!” Hunk called from not too far below in a somewhat dazed tone. “Viva la Chozzerai roast!”

His teammates glanced at each other again.

“Is he starting to freak you out, too, or is it just me?” Pidge’s question was met with an offended “Hey!”

Still, there was even less reason to turn around now. Although the energy waves had altered the stones’ magnetic charges, they still functioned like they did before, just with a little more push or pull. Slowly and steadily, they made their way, sometimes narrowly avoiding slipping off. At one point, Hunk got caught stretched between two and had to drag the lower one under himself so he could crawl onto the higher one, and even then its swaying threatened to tip him off anyway. However, just then the magnetic storm flared, and he noticed something: hidden beneath the blustering air around them was a second noise, warped and warbling.

“Guys, do you hear that?” he asked.

“My gut following in yours footsteps?” said Pidge as she gripped her stomach.

“No, it’s like—like a jwooom sound.” He dropped to his hands and knees and turned his ear to the boulder. “It’s coming from the rocks!”

Keith’s eyes widened. “A tell.” As if speaking was believing, the buzz abruptly grew louder, and a moment later, there came the third wave. “Brace yourselves!”

Unfortunately, there was little the trio could do before it struck. This time, Keith got shot up diagonally while Hunk was rolled way off to the side and Pidge had multiple other stones slamming into hers. The big guy had to use every ounce of willpower to keep his food from making a second appearance, catching it in his mouth and forcing it back down. Yet as he slowed, he caught the thrum of a boulder a short ways away, one that was getting louder by the second. It was heading straight for him! Meanwhile, a boulder behind him rang with a lower pitch, matching the one he was on. His mind flashed back to that morning. It gave him an idea.

“Hey, I think I know what to do!” Hunk’s voice barely managed to carry over the sizable distance now between him and his teammates. “Remember today’s exercise?”

“The one we blew?” Pidge screeched back, caught in a strange dance to avoid getting crushed.

“Yeah, that one! Imagine the rocks all have anti-grav engines! If we use them like that and combine our momentum, we might be able to get across in one move!”

She paused and cast a look around. Using all of their trajectories relative to the cliff and magnetic rebounding properties… “That could work!” She turned around, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, “Time to swing, monkey man! Right to me!”

Keith squinted in confusion for a moment, then recalled his maneuver from the morning and nodded. He launched off his perch and grabbed onto one of the rocks, riding it like a zip line. While he came down, Hunk waited, watching the rock headed for him intently. It was still only a guess whether the higher-pitched thrum meant positive and the lower negative or vice versa, but he was about to find out.

Once he was close, Keith swung off his makeshift zip line and onto Pidge’s cluster. The stones wobbled and bobbed, his momentum sending them drifting. Hers tipped slightly. She pinwheeled her arms to keep her balance before Keith grabbed her and pulled her upright. Their stones still swayed but holding onto each other and kneeling helped them steady and settle. They were almost in position in front of the cliff. And Hunk’s drifting rock was almost to him.

“Okay, guys,” he shouted, “brace yourselves!”

“Wait, what!?” Pidge shrieked.

“Trust me!”

Keith gripped her a little tighter. He didn’t know what Hunk was going to do, but this was the plan they’d chosen. Time to see it through. “Okay.”

Pidge fully latched onto him with her legs, every muscle tense as steel. “These stupid beans better be worth it.”

Hunk steeled himself. The incoming stone was now close enough that his boulder was being drawn to it.

‘Closer…closer…’

It was within kicking range.

‘Yes!’

He dropped onto his back and braced his legs against the rock, stopping it. The impact sent a small shockwave rippling through his body. He shook it away. With every shred of strength he could muster, he pushed off, and went rocketing backward, smashing into the matching-charged boulder. There was a moment of magnetic pressure, the air pressing in on all sides, making his ears hurt. Then, like a tightened spring finally being let loose, Hunk shot forward, plastered against his stone. He was on course. He was going to make it!

“CHIIIII-HHHOOOOO—” A rock slid in the way. “—Oh no.”

With an undignified yelp, the corner of his ride clipped it, still going the right way at exactly the same speed, but now starfishing with a vendetta. His friends went pale.

“HUUUUNK—!”

“—QUIZNAAACK!”

They collided, sending stones flying in all directions, and spun uncontrollably through the air — and, by some miracle, onto the cliff. Grunts, “Ack’s”, and “Oof’s” rang out from the tangle of teenagers until, at long last, they stopped, the boulder tumbling to a halt beside them. The pile deflated with a collective wheeze.

“Are we dead…?” moaned Pidge.

“Don’t think so,” Hunk replied, straining to move anything.

As they detangled, warmth fell on Keith’s cheek, prompting him to open his eyes. And open wide they did. “Guys.”

They craned their necks to the sky and gaped. Sunlight poked through the clouds in dappled rays, growing brighter as the skies cleared and the winds quieted, revealing the thriving land spreading out to the horizon. The solar storm calmed as well, pulling back into a gentle aurora.

“Oh, sure, now it stops!” Pidge flopped onto her back with a screaming groan.

While Hunk patted her head in sympathy, Keith noticed a group of gangly plants a few feet away. “Are those what I think they are?”

“If you’re thinking those are beanstalks, you are right!” said Hunk, jumping to his feet and rushing over. He eagerly plucked a few beans, only to pause at their hue. Or rather, hues. “Huh. Hey, Pidge, guess what? They are rainbow-colored!”

“Woo hoo,” she said flatly, flopping her arm up in history’s laziest fist pump.

The boys smiled and rolled their eyes. For the next few minutes, they collected every bean they could find, though that turned out to be more than could fit in the three little bags (Keith having taken it upon himself to fill Pidge’s for her).

“Alright, I think that’s the last of them,” said Hunk as the two reconvened at the cliff, prompting Pidge to sit up.

“Now we just have to get back down,” Keith finished.

A chorus of groans rang out from the mountain top.

One grueling trek and a flight later, the trio returned to Wanderlust Emporium, still void of customers as ever.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Novum called from where he was restocking a case, “how’d it go?”

They replied by taking out their gendopics and materializing all three items onto the counter.

He blinked. “Well, quiznack, same-quintant delivery.” He opened one of the bags. “And you even got the fluuto beans. Ha! Guess I underestimated you punks.”

“So, does this mean we get the nuuskob now?” Hunk asked with an innocent smile.

“You bet. Let me just grab ‘em from the back. With this haul, ya earned yourselves at least four, I’d say.”

“Finally,” wheezed Pidge, looking like she was about to melt into the floor.

Gathering around as Novum returned with a hover cart, the trio found it to be filled with…

Her eye twitched. “…Pumpkins? We did all that…for pumpkins?” That’s certainly what they looked like, at least, aside from their magenta pigmentation. “We nearly died for something we could’ve popped down to Haulmart to get—!?”

Keith slapped a hand over her mouth, very much conscious of Novum’s perplexed and slightly offended expression. Hunk gave a sheepish grin.

After calming things down and choosing which gourds to take, the three bid farewell to the shopkeeper and headed back to Manset’s headquarters to give him the good news, collect a few of the parts they could now pay for, and retrieve the potential intel on the Holts. At long, long last, with their cargo hold full and sore bodies planted firmly in their seats, they hailed the castle and headed home.

———————————

“…Okay, I’m gonna need one of you to explain this.”

Shiro’s pointed words hung in the air. None of the dirty and, for some reason, bruised (he eyed his brother’s swelling cheek especially) teenagers were eager to answer.

After glancing at each other for several seconds, Hunk said, nuuskobs in-hand, “We got pumpkins.”

“And money,” Keith added.

“And beans,” Pidge chimed in.

“And parts.”

The strangled noise that came out of Shiro was one he never thought he’d make, yet here he was, leaning his forehead against pressed palms and praying for patience.

“We’re never letting you guys outside the castle ever again,” Lance deadpanned. Pidge stuck her tongue out at him.

“Hold on,” asked Allura as she stepped closer, “are those nuuskobs? Then, does that mean…?”

“Yup,” Hunk replied, proudly hoisting the gourds higher. “We’re having a lyssamerine roast!” The way her face lit up in pure excitement, they would never forget. “I was planning to surprise you once it was made, but I think I like this better ‘cause now we can all make it together!”

“A splendid idea, Number One,” said Coran, giving him a solid clap on the back.

“Booyah, let’s get cooking!” Lance cheered.

“I’ve gotta find Rover and go over the intel!” Pidge cried.

Hunk looked offended. “Oh, come on! Face your cooking spirit, you coward!”

“Sticks and stones!”

While the two youngest charged ahead, Allura on their heels, the rest took a more leisurely pace. Once everyone washed up, they gathered in the kitchen and began preparing ingredients, spinning tales of the day’s exploits, much to the amusement of the opposing parties.

“Wait-wait-wait, you seriously drank three thousand-year-old tea?”

“A magnetic rock field and rainbow beans? You gotta be kidding me.”

“Why did you get in a bar fight? Why do you always get in bar fights?!”

“It’s not always a bar.” Though Keith grumbled, Hunk saw the small smile on his face. He’d swiftly become head of the cutting station and was doing a superb job of it, much to the chef’s delight.

Allura was also doing well at her self-appointed job of taste tester — a fancy way of saying she got to swipe bits of food without reprimand. She snagged a slice of the carrot-like vegetable Keith was slicing and popped it into her mouth as Coran finished his bombastic retelling of the failed dance attempt.

“I must say, I have never seen someone so cleanly spun onto their buttocks in my life, and I’ve seen some good spins,” he said, causing Lance to sink further into his seat at one of the island counters.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Pidge managed to say between cackling breaths.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” Lance replied, “but guess who then got to go on a super romantic flight with the princess. That’s right, uh-this guy.”

“I thought we agreed there was no subtext to that,” said Allura, giving him a sharp look.

He shrank back, the others smirking at him. “Yes, right, that’s—yeah, yup, we did say that.”

“I do hope to host another ball, though,” she went on. “Which means I shall have to teach you all how to dance properly.”

“I thought we were done letting you teach things,” said Keith with a skeptical brow.

“And I thought we were done dealing with your attitude, yet here we are.”

Laughter rang through the room. While it did make him roll his eyes, it didn’t erase the curve on his lips — a touch crooked, she noticed — as he huffed, “Well, I guess some things never change.”

Allura gave pause at that. She let her gaze roam around the room, taking in all the smiles and scents, the warmth and comfort. It made her beam in kind. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“Ah, dang it.” Hunk’s strained voice drew her attention to where he was reaching for something on the highest shelf of a cabinet. “Can’t…quite…”

“Oh, I can get that for you,” she said.

“Thanks, Princess, that’s really ni—ahhh…”

He gaped. Everyone did. Instead of using a stool to stand on or a function to lower the item, she grew eighteen inches, plucked it off the shelf with ease, and handed it to him. It was only then she noticed the Earthlings’ faces.

“…What?”

“How the heck did you do that?!” asked Pidge, leaning over the counter.

“Have we not mentioned? We Alteans are what you might call a chameleon-like species, allowing us to blend in with local populations,” Allura replied. “It was what made us such great explorers and diplomats throughout the universe.”

“And if you think that’s neat, watch this!” Coran gave a flamboyant spin and suddenly his skin became a vivid purple. “Ta-da!”

“You’re shapeshifters?” Lance’s eyes lit up, a thousand comic book characters coming to mind. “So, can you turn into, like, anything?”

“How many different colors can you be at once?” Pidge jumped in.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll rip your dress?” asked Hunk.

Allura blinked. “No — just one color at a time — and Altean clothing is tailored with our abilities in mind.” To prove her point, she shrunk back to her true size, leaving not a fold nor wrinkle in her dress.

“Like our armor,” said Shiro, catching on.

“Precisely.”

While the others continued marveling at the Alteans’ power, Keith’s vision fell to his hand as he slipped his gloves on, covering the dark, calloused marks. ‘Must be nice.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Hunk spotted his distant expression. ‘Nope. Not on my watch.’

He slung his arm around the older boy’s shoulders and drew him close, saying, “Not too shabby for our first family tradition, huh?”

Keith was taken aback. ‘Family?’

The word left a funny feeling in his gut. Shay’s grandmother had used it to describe them, too, but she was an alien on a faraway planet. To hear it from a fellow Earthling was…different. Odd, even. And yet, looking around at his teammates — his friends — the feeling faded into a pleasant warmth, and he smiled. “Yeah.”

“But let’s maybe not start a bar fight next year.”

“No promises.”

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur. The roast turned out as wonderful as promised, more stories passing around the kitchen as they ate their fill and laughed to their hearts’ content. Alfor watched on all the while, his heart warmer than it had been in three millennia. It was a perfect Chozzerai.

———————————

The jagged edges of Haggar’s robes coiled and furled with each stalking step down the corridor, a vile of quintessence in her hand. Though the second test had proven more fruitful than the first, it had been far from a true success. Not good enough, it was never good enough. The glass threatened to crack in her hand, but she controlled herself. Even a broken tool could be useful.

Her Druids bowed at her approach as she returned to her laboratory. “Is the subject ready?”

“Yes, High Priestess,” one of them answered.

She scrutinized the small lizard in the cage before her. Carnivorous it may have been, but it was less of a threat than a month-old bear cub. Until she had her way with it, that is.

Holding up the large vile of writhing quintessence, in a hushed, venomous voice, she spoke, “May this power serve you well, beast, to carry out my will. For through it you shall become a titan not even Voltron will be able to defeat.” She turned to her followers. “Prepare the chamber.”

They bowed and slipped into the shadows with the components. A familiar presence brushed against the witch’s psyche. She extended her hands, summoning light and dark alike into an orb.

Her Emperor’s shrouded countenance shimmered into existence over its surface. “Is it done?”

“Nearly. I’ve set my Druids to task and will join them soon.”

“Excellent. Sendak has made contact. He believes he knows precisely where to send it.”

A wicked smile split her weathered face. “Excellent indeed.”