During the battle to rescue Princess Allura, the paladins faced most of the Galra Empire's forces. But one Galra warrior was left on the sidelines. He had a simple mission to guard the shield control center from any possible attacks.
Like any Galra warrior, he performed his task to a tee, patrolling the area around the control center with ease. Just like the last few hundred times he had walked through the route that day, all the sentries were accounted for. His bearing was professional and his pace determined. He was fuming on the inside.
He had been assigned to guard duty for years. His one true love was flying, but he failed a mission years ago. In the Galra Empire, failure or weakness on his part would normally mean death. He was instead sent to the lowest rung of the ladder, if only because of his previous excellence in combat. However, he now felt underutilized. Perhaps it would have been better to face execution, rather than to walk the same route a thousand times a day, every day, for the rest of his life.
He stopped his train of thought and focused. Today was an interesting day. Five paladins arrived on the Empire's doorstep. A few had even assaulted into the ships. However, none of them were anywhere near the control center. When they first arrived, he hoped for a chance to get into glorious battle once more. But the superiority of the fleet was apparent, and once Zarkon himself leapt into battle, it became clear that they would be dead within the hour, and he would not get a chance to fight anyone.
At the very least, his route featured windows that looked out onto the battlefield. He did not expect any efficiency checks during the middle of a battle this big, so he slowed his pace to look out at the fighting each time he passed by the windows.
One fight was drifting towards the center. Zarkon was facing the Red Lion. The Galra warrior felt pride in his leader's success, and the chance to see Zarkon fighting in close combat was perhaps worth all the years of menial patrolling. Although many of the young warriors might mistake Zarkon for a mere administrator at first, anyone with a few years under their belt would have a story of the ruthlessness and fearless strength of their leader in combat. To many, the worst part of failure was not the execution, but the thought that they were unworthy to server under Zarkon.
He considered taking a few potshots at the Red Lion's pilot. Galra warriors appreciated a fair fight as much as the next species, but that was reserved for the arena, not the battlefield. Shooting at the Red Lion would certainly shatter the window, sending all the air in the hallway rushing out, not to mention himself. However, if he hit the pilot, the glory in death would allow him some recompense for the shame of the past few years.
He raised his weapon, focusing on the pilot of the Red Lion. The enemy had crashed into another ship. The warrior's pilot training had not failed him over the years, and his keen eyesight was still with him. He observed the strained face of the Red Lion's pilot, and froze. He had seen those eyes before.
The Galra warrior lowered his weapon, and ran towards the control center, veering off his patrol route. He abandoned his firearm and took out his knife. When one of his comrades objected to him entering the secured area, he gutted him. The warrior did the same to his comrades inside the center.
The warrior halted at the console, and disabled the shields preventing wormholes. He stared grimly at the paladins as they fled, and as Hagar tried to disrupt their exit. If he could not fight again, he could at least ensure his son would fight.