Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the Berlin, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, Thunderwing, and the story itself.
A/N: Welcome to the next installation of my series. Hopefully, I'll be able to update more frequently than I did with my last story. So, read, review, enjoy, and, as always, check 6.
P.S. A Sims beacon is a flashlight strapped to one's wrist.
Star Tron: Hidden Dangers
Chapter 1
Late at night, a dark shape moved through the trees near the large village of Olessa. Stepping out onto a moonlit road, the black-clad man looked around, listening for any sign of life. Detecting none, he gave a bird call, signaling the all clear to his comrades.
Four other figures emerged from the shadows. All five were lightly armed, and carried packs on their backs. They moved swiftly and soundlessly down the road, crouched low, darting in and out of the shadows by the trees. They were not far from their destination. Only another kilometer or so.
As they neared the town, the five soldiers slowed their pace. It wouldn't do to be detected now, so close to their target. Coming within sight of the outskirts, they saw two figures on the road ahead. Through their night-vision goggles they were able to make out two Starfleet security officers carrying phaser rifles and Sims beacons. Neither was keeping an attentive watch, as they were engaged in a quiet conversation, facing toward the town.
As he drew nearer, the leader's first impulse was to take them down. But then, he thought better of it. How delightful it would be seeing them humiliated for allowing his team to sneak in under their very noses! He made a series of hand signals to his team, silently ordering them to move back into the trees and go around the sentries.
"So how long do you think it'll be before that base is up?" one of the guards asked.
"I don't know. A year maybe?"
"I give it six months. It's the first base in this whole dimension. You know Starfleet's gonna pour everything into it."
"Yeah, maybe so. I guess we'll see…"
The leader smiled as his team moved past the sentries. Suddenly, he froze as he heard a twig snap. The guards had heard it, too.
"What was that?" the first guard asked, raising his weapon.
The other pulled out a tricorder and started sweeping the area. The device beeped as it was pointed at the leader of the infiltration team. The sentry's eyes went wide as he started to shout, "Intru…."
He never finished his sentence. Before the first word was out of his mouth, there was a knife embedded in his throat and he collapsed to the ground as he choked out his last breath. Seconds later, his companion fell beside him, similarly stricken. The leader retrieved his knife, and led his team onward, leaving the two dead guards behind.
A few minutes later, the team was slinking through alleys and dim back streets toward their goal: the Starfleet command post. They had no chance of taking out the command post itself. It was too heavily defended. However, they could do plenty of damage to the outlying support and storage buildings.
And that's exactly what they set about doing, sneaking around the camp, planting charges, and disappearing back into the shadows.
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Commander Charles Wright sat at his desk in the barracks building near the center of the Olessa command post. Wright was a tall, thin man with dark brown hair that was beginning to gray at the sides, and dark, piercing eyes. He'd been in Starfleet more than thirty years, and had worked on projects across the Federation. He was no stranger to tough conditions and tight deadlines.
Wright was looking over plans and reports submitted that day. Tomorrow they'd be breaking ground on the new school on the west side of town, and he was in the process of reviewing and approving equipment and personnel assignments for the project.
Since they'd arrived, the 28th Engineering Battalion had been occupied with mostly domestic and commercial construction. The new school would be the first major infrastructure rebuilding project that the Starfleeters would take part in.
As he worked through the stack of PADDs, Wright caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, just outside his window. He looked over, but saw nothing. Such things were not uncommon. A lot of local kids came sneaking around, trying to pilfer a few stem bolts or a piece of tritanium. Most of the time, the guards would catch them, scold them, and send them home. Wright couldn't help but smile at the thought. For all the worlds he'd been to, there were some things that never changed, and the fascination that young people had for construction sites was one of them.
But just minutes later, Wright was thrown from his chair as a series of explosions rocked the camp, blowing the pane of transparent aluminum out of his window. Picking himself up, he raced from the office as the realization hit him that what he'd seen had been no local kid.
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Keith, Lance, Pidge, Allura, and Hunk shuffled wearily into the lounge and flopped down on the nearest available seats. They'd just returned from their third flight that day, not counting Lion practice.
It had been like this for over a week now. Raids were coming at all hours of the day and night, often several times each day. Star cutters and battleships attacked the starships and starbase in orbit, while others, always with fighter escort, attacked the Castle of Lions and surrounding villages. The only saving grace was that few attacks were accompanied by robeasts.
The Federation ships had reported that several of the attacking battleships were equipped with enhanced laser weapons, perhaps the result of further development of the ionized topaz technology. These ships, while repeatedly working over the Starfleet ships, never fought long enough to destroy them. Only for the few minutes it took for the planet-bound forces to complete their raid, and then they withdrew. Oddly, they even seemed to target non-vital areas of the ships.
More disturbing, though, was the recent rash of sabotage. Persons unknown had been making covert attacks on villages, destroying construction equipment, stockpiles of materials, and engaging in terrorist activities including bombings. The Starfleet engineers in the villages were stretched thin, and rebuilding projects had slowed to a crawl as Starfleet officers were deployed to supplement local police forces.
The constant attacks were taking their toll on the team, as well. They were exhausted, the Lions were beginning to show the increased wear and tear, and everyone's nerves were frayed.
The five pilots sat there for a long time, trying to relax a little, when the Castle alarms sounded again. Their training taking over, they all bolted for the Control Room, ready to take to the air again, but when they arrived, Coran waved them off. "It's all right. A false alarm. There is a freighter approaching with parts for the starbase." The old advisor was, like the rest of them, showing the effects of the constant alerts. There were bags under his eyes, and his voice was not a strong as it normally was.
Lance mumbled a particularly vile epithet and left the room, with the others following suit. All but one.
"Coran, can you patch me in to the Berlin?" Keith asked. The old advisor nodded, and silently made the connection.
"This is the Berlin. Go ahead, Castle Control," said the voice of Commander Jacobs.
"This is Commander Keith. Can you put me through to Captain Driscoll?"
"Sorry, Commander. The Captain left orders not to be disturbed unless there's another attack."
Keith cursed inwardly. "Please ask him to call me when he gets a moment."
"Will do, Commander. Berlin out."
Keith turned and nodded to Coran, then left the room, headed for the gym. Despite his exhaustion, he was too high-strung to be able to rest. Hopefully, he could expend some of that energy and still have time for some sleep later that night.
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While Keith headed for the gym, the others returned to the lounge. "What are we gonna do about this?" Hunk asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I've had about all I can take."
"Me, too," said Pidge. "I could sleep for a week."
"I don't know, guys. I suppose Keith will come up with something," Lance replied. "He always does."
Allura nodded. "But we need to protect the people in those villages. As tough as these raids are on us, my people are losing their homes and their lives. It's like Zarkon's invading all over again."
"Damn Zarkon," said Lance. "Why doesn't he just do us all a favor and get himself blown up?" His comment brought a few smiles, but little else. Everyone was just too tired.
Finally, Lance got up and excused himself. His own comment was buzzing in his head. Yeah, Keith would probably figure out how to deal with Doom's latest curve ball, but how? The basic fact was that they were spread awfully thin. Repelling attacks by dozens of ships and hundreds of fighters a day was a tall order for anyone to fill, even the mighty Voltron Force.
Heading down to the gym, Lance wasn't surprised to hear activity within. When he entered, he saw Keith off in the far corner, practicing some of his martial arts moves on a large punching bag.
Lance took off his jacket and boots, and walked up to Keith. "Wanna spar?"
Keith sent a devastating kick into the bag. "Yeah, sure, if you're up to it," he replied without looking at Lance. He finished another series of blows, then backed off, and walked with his friend over to the sparring mats. They faced each other and bowed, then took their opening stances.
Lance struck first, dancing forward as he launched a series of kicks, which Keith alternately blocked or dodged, backing off to keep some space between him and Lance. On one of the kicks, Keith grabbed Lance's leg, twisted him around, and spun him to the mat.
"So whatcha think about all this?" Lance asked as he got back to his feet. "What's Zarkon up to?"
Keith waited for his friend to get ready before attacking. "I don't know," he said between punches. Lance blocked three and dodged two more as Keith advanced. "Maybe," Keith said, spinning a roundhouse at Lance, who ducked it, "he's just trying to keep us occupied so we don't go after him." He jumped to avoid a leg-sweep from Lance.
Lance nodded as he launched a jump-kick at Keith. "Makes se-whoa!" he yelled as Keith sidestepped the attack and sent him sprawling with a quick blow to his back.
"Or else he's softening us up," Keith said as Lance got up. The statement hung between them as they faced each other.
"You think he'd invade again?" Lance asked.
Keith shook his head. "I don't know. He's got a lot to gain if he succeeds, and there's no way we could repel a full-scale invasion. He has to know that."
"But Voltron could."
"Even Voltron could be overwhelmed by numbers. And Haggar…" He didn't have time to finish the sentence as Lance attacked, attempting to sweep his legs, then delivering a series of quick punches as Keith landed.
Keith backed off and squared off against Lance again. "So what do we do about it?" Lance asked.
"Wait until we have more to go on, for starters. Until then, we keep going like we have been," Keith said with a tone of finality. "Now are you gonna fight, or do you just wanna yak all day like an old lady?"
Lance laughed. "I'll show you who's an old lady," he said, taking his ready stance.
"Show me what you got, Corman," Keith replied with a grin.
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The next morning, the Voltron Force gathered over the desert for practice, the five Lions flying a loose vee formation. As usual, Keith scanned the sky above for the telltale white streak that would mark the position of the sixth member of the Force. But today, that streak was absent. "Black Lion to Thunderwing, come in." There was no response. "Adam, this is Keith, do you hear me?" Still nothing. So, Keith hailed the starship. "Black Lion calling Starship Berlin, where's Captain Driscoll?"
"This is Gredar," came the low, raspy reply. "The Captain is aboard."
"Put me through to him, please," Keith requested. There was no reply. Instead, after a moment, he heard Driscoll's voice come over his speakers. "Driscoll here. Go ahead."
"Adam, why aren't you down here?" Keith demanded.
"Technical difficulties, man. Thunder needs engine work. I've fallen behind with all these damn attacks."
Keith shook his head. Well, he did have a good excuse. "This is why I told you you needed to train someone to work on that thing."
"Hey, I did. It's not my fault Pidge and Hunk are just as tired as me. Listen, you know Commander Wright, the head of the engineering battalion in Olessa?"
"What about him?"
"He called me this morning. Says that after that bombing last night, they found two more guards killed."
"So?"
"So one of them had some evidence on his person. I'd like you guys come to the senior staff meeting here today."
"All right, we'll be there, barring any attacks," said Keith. "In the meantime, I want that plane of yours in the air ASAP."
Keith could almost here the bemused smile on the Captain's face as he replied, "Will do, boss. Driscoll out."
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Later that morning, the Voltron Force beamed aboard the Berlin to attend the staff meeting. A security officer escorted the five pilots to the starship's conference room, located on deck two, below and behind the main bridge.
Walking into the room, they found the senior staff of the Berlin, Captain Driscoll, Commander Gredar, Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs, Dr. Saladin, Captain Scott, Lieutenants Mordock and Singh, and Lieutenant JG Michael Curtis, already seated. With them was Commander Wright of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.
After introductions were made, Commander Wright stood up and addressed the assembly. "I don't have to tell you that there was another attack last night. We lost half our stockpiles of medical supplies, as well as a large amount of the construction materials that were earmarked for a new school. We also lost two men.
"But they didn't die in vain." Wright reached behind him and picked up a small package that had been sitting behind his chair. From it, he withdrew a knife. It was only about six inches long, wide and flattened. "They slipped up this time, and left us a clue as to who we're dealing with. This knife was used to kill one of the post's sentries." He looked at Keith. "We suspect it's a Doom weapon, and we'd like you to confirm that," he said, offering Keith the dagger.
Keith took it and looked it over, then set it on the table. "You're right, Commander. It is Drule. Specifically, it's a throwing knife issued to Drule Special Forces units."
A heavy silence descended on the room at Keith's revelation. After a moment, Jacobs asked, "So what do we do about it, Keith?"
"There's nothing you can do, Commander" he replied. "If a Doom Special Ops unit is on Arus, all we can do is hope to catch them in the act and take them down."
Allura shot him a look. She didn't like that answer at all. "There must be a way to protect the people in the villages. What about scanning for them? Try to find their camp?" she asked.
"How do we know it's them and not some of your people still hiding in caves?" Keith replied.
"Their bio-signatures are distinct," said Mordock. "We can scan for them."
Keith nodded. "You can try that," he said.
"I sense a 'but' in there, Commander," said Wright.
"You have to keep in mind, these are Special Ops soldiers. Not your run-of-the-mill battle droids. They're trained and equipped to avoid detection at all costs. You won't have an easy time finding them."
Driscoll nodded. "Maybe, but we've still gotta try. Mike," he said, turning to his helmsman, "when we break, I want you to plot a search course that will give Mordock's sensors the best possible look at the surface of Arus. We've gotta find these bastards before they screw up everything that the Arusians have done to rebuild."
"Aye, sir."
"Meanwhile, I'll have some shuttles…" he was cut off by the alarm klaxons sounding as the alert panels in the room flashed red. "Red alert, all hands to battle stations. Senior crew, report to the bridge immediately."
"Let's go, move it!" Driscoll barked as his officers quickly deserted the room. "Transporter room, lock onto the Voltron Force and beam them directly to the Castle of Lions."
Before Keith could ask what was happening, he felt the tingle of the transporter sweeping over him as the Berlin's conference room dissolved around him.