Arusian Crusade: Starfall
Chapter 1: Falling In
Arusian Crusade, part two! Sequel to AC: Deployment. Once again, this is pretty much an exercise in throwing every continuity into a blender and seeing what comes out.
Enjoy!
Coran spent a lot of time on monitor duty these days. Too much, in Nanny's opinion; she kept trying to drag him elsewhere. Said so much brooding wasn't good for him, that he needed to get out and do something with himself. Claimed he was going to give himself eye strain from staring at the screens so much.
Eye strain was the least of anyone's problems these days, though he appreciated the thought.
There was no particular need to have someone on station all the time. Really there wasn't much need to have anyone on station at all. In one short week the two engineers sent by the Alliance had managed to get the castle's sensor net extended back to its previous efficiency. They'd also fixed the comms and started patching up the crumbling spire that was Black Lion's den.
All that in between working out, training in their lions, and mercilessly mocking their commander. Efficiency.
They're good kids, he mused, a little surprised to be thinking of five trained soldiers as kids. But what else could he do? They were so young. He'd had a few misgivings when the Alliance's initial plan was revealed. Sending specially trained but untested warriors... there were elements of it that made sense, it just seemed like this was the sort of mission that might call for a veteran hand.
If they'd known exactly what they were sending the pilots to do, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps not.
King Alfor had been pleased with the Alliance's choices, in any case, and Coran hadn't bothered to advise against it. He'd been mildly unsettled, but not that concerned. Watching them now he was glad he'd remained silent. They were good kids. And very good at what they did.
All of that led back to what he was really doing on monitor duty. Not watching the outside, but the inside of the Castle of the Elements. The Castle of Lions. He wasn't sure where the new name had started, all he knew was that those within the castle had seized on it like a lifeline, and who was he to tell them no?
Actually he rather liked it, but it was going to take some getting used to.
Morale within the castle had reached levels he couldn't remember seeing in his life, even before the Drules had come. This was what he was watching. Monitoring the whispers, the transmissions leaving the castle in the direction of a dozen enclaves of survivors. He was certainly not monitoring what those communications actually said, but there was no need to. It was clear enough.
Word was spreading. Hope was spreading.
Arus would rise again.
Allura stood in the courtyard in her combat uniform—gray, the color worn by Arusian military recruits in the days there had still been an Arusian military—trying to keep her body loose and staring down a sack full of straw. It stared back at her; someone had painted a face on it right about where the head ought to have been. A smirking, unpleasant face that she actually found quite irritating. She rather wanted to punch it, and her impulses usually didn't work that way.
Of course, that was precisely the idea.
"Oh hey, you getting acquainted with Strawman already?" She didn't jump, though the voice came out of nowhere; she'd had a vague sense that someone was approaching. "Shame on you. Keith still doesn't want you hitting anything yet."
"Yes, so he's said." She turned to face Lance, who'd trotted up with a towel slung over his bare shoulders, and was very much aware that if Keith were here the other pilot would be dead in a matter of seconds. Personally she found it amusing. At least someone was treating her as an equal... and she also couldn't help appreciating the view. "Something about muscle strain?"
He snorted. "Yep. He's our fearless leader, unless you dare to suggest someone without martial arts training might try to throw a punch. Then he freaks." Shrug. "I won't tell if you want to take a few swings, if you promise not to hit so hard you pull something."
Before she could promise, it occurred to her that she had no idea how hard that may or may not be. "Hmm..." Keith had started her on basic calisthenics; he was pretty sure jumping right into the full training regimen would kill her. The princess still hadn't quite decided whether to be offended or appreciative. Either way, her practical knowledge of her limits was somewhat lacking, and finding them by injuring herself probably wasn't the way to go. "Maybe I'd better wait."
"Suit yourself." He walked up and landed a fist right on the dummy's wicked grin. "Pidge did a great job on that face, didn't he? Makes me want to rip it right off."
"It's pretty effective, yes."
The team generally trained together, but only to an extent. Each had their own routines as well, and she was pretty sure most of them weren't aware she'd been watching them all very carefully over the last few days. Not in any inappropriate fashion. Just trying to learn, to maybe pick up a few new techniques. But she couldn't make enough sense of things from a distance, so she stuck with the exercises Keith had taught her so far and waited for more.
Watching Lance she was struck by how much he reminded her of Prince Acamar; they shared the same wiry build and easy smile. The nature of their duties meant she'd never been especially close to her brother, but she'd very much enjoyed what time she'd been able to spend with him. And like Lance, he'd seen her as a peer rather than something delicate to be sheltered. After all, it was Acamar who'd taught her to fire a warbow when her eldest brother, Tarazed, was still arguing with her to practice her curtsy.
Keith's serious attitude had reminded her of Tarazed's strictness at first, to be honest, but she'd noticed him loosening up as her training progressed and she didn't break anything on herself. Hopefully that would continue. Maybe he would even let her punch something by the end of the next week.
After a few more hits on the dummy Lance shot her a salute and turned away. "I'd better get moving. Keith should be here in a few minutes though, he's running late with the paperwork. You know how it is."
"Unfortunately." Allura knew. Pidge and Hunk had gotten the castle's communications back up two days ago, and no report they'd sent to the Alliance since then seemed to be satisfactory. In fairness, there was quite a lot of ground to cover. As the ruler of Arus, she'd had quite a lot of that paperwork to deal with herself, at least until she came to her senses and dumped it off on Coran.
For his part, Coran claimed to disapprove of her taking up combat training, but he'd accepted the extra duties without a murmur of complaint. If he'd wanted to keep her too busy to train, he could've just said no.
Lance departed, meeting Pidge as he left; the small warrior gave her a grin when he realized he'd been noticed. They moved back into the castle, but it had probably only been a matter of seconds when Pidge returned, swinging around the doorway. "Hey Allura, had you ever seen a guy without a shirt on before?"
The princess blinked. What in the...? A faint blush sprang to her cheeks. She wasn't that sheltered. "Of course I have!"
He disappeared without explanation.
Watching the doorway, alone again and now thoroughly confused, Allura finally found the temptation too hard to resist. She whipped around and punched the dummy right in its smirking face, then rubbed her newly aching knuckles with a wince.
Was it supposed to hurt her when she hit something?
She had plenty yet to learn.
Lance's personal workout routine took him through half the castle. Not really his preference; it was just that they only had one training dummy for the moment, and its being set up in the courtyard meant he had to go indoors if he wanted to slug it.
Today someone was standing in the doorway as he went to leave the courtyard. Someone small and slim, wearing a salvaged tech coverall that was a solid two sizes too big for him, who currently had a palm slapped to his forehead as he watched his teammate approach.
"Were you wanting to spend some quality time with Strawman, Pidge? He's all yours until Keith shows up."
"Yeah. Keith." The little pilot shook his head. "When he kills you in your sleep, the official cause of death is going to go down as self-inflicted injury. You know that, right?"
No need to ask what he was talking about there. "After a few hundred death threats from him I actually stopped taking them seriously," Lance shrugged. "And I'll have you know Allura enjoyed it. You act like she's never seen a guy without a shirt on before."
"Has she? She's a princess."
"Yeah, a princess, not a total hothouse flower!"
"How should I know the difference?" He paused, turned, stuck his head back out into the courtyard. "Hey Allura, had you ever seen a guy without a shirt on before?" Lance couldn't quite help gawking at his companion. That was something he would do. The look went unnoticed; the small pilot turned around after a minute and shrugged. "Huh, what do you know, you're right. She said yes."
"Did you really just... dude, why am I the only one with a reputation around here? And how did you make it through the academy without every commanding officer ever ripping your head off?"
"I'm not that much of a smartass around commanders, Lance!"
"Just around princesses, huh?"
"Should I not be?"
"Oh boy. What'd you do, little buddy, and am I gonna have to hide you from Keith?" Hunk appeared in full uniform; he'd been spending most of his time working on the lions, insisting that hauling equipment and scrap metal around was more than enough exercise for him. Which was probably true. "Because I can totally arrange that, you promised to help me with shock dampeners today."
Pidge blinked. "You actually found some?"
"Yep. Turns out there's a big ol' scrapyard out in the desert, a couple miles from Yellow Lion's den, looks like the Arusians busted up a whole Drule armor legion. Pretty good stuff, actually."
"Sounds good to me." Pidge slipped out of his tech suit and threw it over his shoulder, revealing his own uniform beneath it; he didn't quite seem to grasp the concept behind workout clothes. "Lance, tell Keith I'm begging off team drills today, would you?"
Lance smirked. "Sure. I'll make sure everyone knows you and Hunk need your alone time."
"Thanks. I'll repay you by killing you in your sleep so Keith can't do it."
"Sounds like a deal." Flipping a sardonic salute, he watched the two engineers vanish and returned to his own rounds.
The castle hallways were typically deserted while he was on his run, which complicated things. On one hand, it meant he didn't have to worry about running over anyone, and that was good. On the other hand, it meant when he got hopelessly lost in the winding corridors he was on his own. This was why he hated indoor workouts... his sense of direction really wasn't much to speak of.
Flying was better. In flight you could see where you were going.
He had fairly little idea where anything was going these days, if he wanted to get philosophical about it. But really, that was just fine with him. Chaos was how Lance rolled.
The members of the Voltron Force had many fine qualities. Subtlety was generally not one of them.
Keith knew damned well what was going on behind his back.
He was not inclined to make an issue of it, for several reasons. First and foremost, if he knew his people had the lurking specter of an angry commander in their minds—even if they were mostly mocking it—he knew they would remember to behave. Not that he had any true concerns about his team and Allura. They might all be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he knew his warriors were honorable in this respect, if nothing else. But people were people, males were males, and it never hurt to be safe.
Secondly, if imagining him as some sort of uptight protocol maniac amused them, who was he to deny them that? There was little enough amusement on Arus right now. Hell, that was how the training dummy had wound up with a name and a personality. The smirking bastard.
Walking into the courtyard he landed a kick to the dummy's chest, just to make a point, then turned to Allura and nodded a greeting. "Morning. Been stretching?"
"Of course." Her eyes lingered on Strawman for a moment, looking for all the world like she wanted to kick it too, then went back to him. "I'm ready."
Wordlessly he nodded and gestured for her to follow, and they began their own daily jog through the hallways. Not even the princess knew every corner of the Castle of Lions yet; she'd only been sent there shortly before the Drules had attacked her world. But she knew quite a bit more than the rest of the Voltron Force, and Keith was content for their workouts to pull double duty, conditioning their newest teammate as she taught him the basics of the building's layout.
"This way." She took him down a hallway he'd never explored before, and quite possibly never would've seen if she hadn't pointed it out. "This leads to the southern balcony. It's the castle's primary observation platform."
This particular path involved a lot of stairs. Keith wondered if Allura fully grasped her own limits, or if he was just underestimating her conditioning at this point. Either way he said nothing as they started to take the stairways at a brisk jog. And after about six flights he could tell she was starting to regret this.
"Easy, Princess. Don't push too hard."
"It's... just... stairs!" She was drawing shallow breaths and sounding very irritated. "And don't... call me Princess... when... training," she added as an afterthought.
He couldn't help laughing, though he clamped down on it quickly. The whole problem that was getting him so much mockery from his teammates was that he had no idea how to react to the princess, and they seemed to think he was trying to lead by example. He wasn't. But that didn't stop him from being plenty awkward on his own time.
"Sorry, Allura." He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from going any further, acutely aware of what the rest of the team would say if they saw that. But he really was trying to treat her as just one of the gang. At least while training. "Seriously, though. Running up stairs takes a lot more out of you than you'd think."
A faint blush crept over her cheeks, though it might've just been the fact that she was flushed from the ill-advised run. "Oh. I guess I have... more to learn than I thought." Breathing was still coming a bit shallowly. "And I already thought I had... quite a bit to learn."
"You're doing great so far."
Her eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Absolutely." He frowned as he realized she was still gasping for air. "Breathe deeper, though. Very important. Get the oxygen flowing."
She nodded, and he could see her struggling to discipline herself. It was true, she was learning quickly. Clearly not as quickly as she thought she ought to be learning. But she was also in pretty good shape already; at the pace she was going, he'd have expected her to have given out well before the sixth flight.
Oh yes. From a physical standpoint her training was going just great. From a not-awkward standpoint, well... things were progressing. Rather slower. But progressing.
"Should we go back?" he asked once she seemed to be sufficiently cooled down.
Allura shook her head. "I'd like to show you this."
"How far up?"
"Another nine stories."
"We'll walk."
Usually Allura argued when he deemed her not ready for something, but this was not usually. She'd learned her lesson for the day. They took the rest of the stairs slowly, and by the time they emerged onto the southern balcony it was twilight. Wait. There's no way. Looking up Keith realized it wasn't twilight but overcast; thick black clouds were moving in. Ah.
Turning his gaze to the ground he saw the entirety of Green Lion's forest stretched out before them; looking to his left he could see Lake Anahita, where Blue Lion slept. Off to the right, the glow of Mount Ahriman's magma was clearly visible, masking Red Lion hidden beneath it. Yellow Lion's desert could not be seen from here, but he knew it was at their backs, the sand stretching clear and crystalline into the distance.
"This is amazing," he said softly, and meant it. Arus was still a beautiful planet. And they would protect it no matter what.
Black Lion was sitting in front of the castle doors, seeming to gaze up at the approaching clouds itself. Waiting. Welcoming. Though the machine had a den inside the castle, it had been ruined by the Drule attack. The lion's presence outdoors was to be used as a lightning rod—literally. Without the generators to pour electricity into its power cells, the regal craft had to get its energy somewhere.
"It's going to storm," Allura observed; her gaze had gone to the ground first, and she was only now staring up at the skies with a look of concern.
Keith nodded, focused on Black Lion again. "That's fine."
Green and Yellow Lions landed in the center of the scrap field, and Hunk chuckled as he watched Green's head sweep back and forth. "You weren't kidding about that armor legion. Wow." The other lion paced around the area for a minute. "But I don't see anything that looks like it could be Arusian."
"Yeah, I've been talking to Coran about that. Sounds like they mostly did the infantry thing. The technomystically equipped we-will-kill-your-tanks-with-our-bare-hands kinda infantry thing. Worked okay on the crawlers, not so much on the spaceships."
"Huh. I guess that makes... uh, Hunk, why is one of that robeast's legs sitting on top of a dead tank?"
The big engineer burst into laughter as Pidge finally caught sight of his other prize. "Because I couldn't drag the rest of it!" The leg had been the only salvageable part of the monster they'd bisected a week ago; everything else had burned or disintegrated away. "I figured we could haul all the scrap we come across out here. May as well keep it in one spot, right? I've been callin' it the Hunkyard."
Pidge snorted. "Of course you have." He sounded unimpressed, so Hunk waited, because he knew his little buddy really couldn't hold out all that long. Finally, laughter rang out over his comms. "Okay, okay, I give! Well played."
"You approve?"
"Obviously." Green Lion bent over and wrestled a hulk of metal from the debris field; it looked like an APC that had been left mostly intact. "This looks like a pretty good start."
"Make a pile. We'll drag it all back to the hangar later." His first inclination was to say they could just bring the lions out here to work, but the clouds gathering on the horizon said that might be a bad idea. Hunk didn't mind working in the rain. All he asked was that there be a roof over his head while he was doing it.
Yeah, so roughing it was totally not his thing.
He had actually already installed some of the salvaged shock absorbers on his own ship, just to see how the automated systems would take it. And to make sure it actually accomplished anything. Yellow Lion rode smooth as silk no matter what, but they'd spent a little time the day before training in formation. Training as Voltron. He'd noticed a significant difference; they'd roundhouse kicked a big rock out in the desert and his ears had barely even started ringing.
Sven had punched him for that move later, which he'd probably deserved, but at least he knew the modifications worked. Blue Lion was next on the list.
For his own part, Hunk was coming to love working with the lions, even if the auto-repair still drove him crazy. Yellow Lion was the best, of course. He was working when he skipped out of team drills to drag metal and tools all over the hangar. No question. The fact that he was also having the time of his life was entirely irrelevant.
If he was not much mistaken, Yellow was actually quite amused by the scar he'd left across its face. Could the lions be amused? He really had no idea. But he'd tried to ask the big metal cat about it one day, and was pretty sure he'd gotten a response of approval.
Either that or he was having some really kickin' hallucinations.
"Hey Pidge? D'you and Green ever, um... talk?"
The other lion hesitated a moment, turned to face him. "I talk to Green on a regular basis, though in a context that I'd be pretty concerned if it started talking back. I'm assuming that isn't quite what you mean."
Discretion, as they said, was the better part of valor. Hunk did not consider himself a particularly valorous individual, but he could display discretion when called upon, and this seemed like a perfect time to not mention that they'd all heard a fair bit of Pidge talking to Green during training yesterday. He'd left his comms open; they'd been way too amused to point it out for quite some time.
Most of it had revolved around Lance's inability to swing a sword properly, though Red Lion's pilot was actually getting a lot better with practice. Everyone had also picked up a few Baltan swear words, and the others were going to have a lot of explaining to do when Pidge asked how that had come about.
In any case, back to business. "No, not what I mean. I've kinda tried talkin' to the yella fella in my head a few times. You know, because they talked to us when we first formed Voltron and it only seemed fair to try talking back."
And just because he wanted to see if it would work.
And because its presence was always there... and he wanted to understand that, the same way he was looking to make sense of its steel and circuitry.
But invoking fairness was a good start.
"It's been answering?"
"Not really. I mean, I sorta feel things. I think. And I'm hoping it's not just that I'm going crazy."
"Going?" Pidge was quiet for a minute, and Green Lion stilled. Then he gave a squawk of surprise. "Whoa. Either you've got me going crazy too, or you're right."
"Do you have to act so shocked?"
"Sorry. I just sort of assumed I was the expert on telepathy. Y'know, by virtue of not actually being able to practice it. ...That sounds odd now that I say it out loud."
Hunk chuckled. "Go find some more scrap, would ya? You two can get acquainted while you're at it." They'd all figure their lions out at their own pace, he guessed. But if he could help rush at least his little buddy along, so much the better.
Lake Anahita was a truly fascinating place. Where it met the mountains there were dozens if not hundreds of small caves, bone dry despite being underwater thanks to some oddity of pressurization. Sven had scouted out about ten of them so far, slipping from one to the next like an aquatic wraith.
The caves were mostly similar, other than size and shape. The floors were a very fine sand, almost silt, and the walls were covered in glittering silicate crystals. Most of the cave walls were also home to large swaths of bioluminescent moss, granting just enough light to see by. Taken as a whole the effect was surreal... he hadn't told the others about the discovery. Better to keep these places to himself, a refuge of beauty and solitude.
Besides, none of them particularly liked swimming.
Sven theorized that it must be possible to reach all the way to Blue Lion's den with this kind of cave-hopping, but wasn't about to try it without some diving equipment. That would be silly. He'd stuck to shallow exploration for now because, well, he was sane.
Surfacing in a new cave he shook the water off himself, looked around to get the lay of the land, ran through a quick calisthenic routine to feel like he was actually working out and not just goofing off. Of course swimming was exercise, but it didn't feel enough like work. So he forced himself to at least go through the motions every time he reached a new cavern.
This cave was the smallest so far. A few patches of glowing moss had sprouted on the sand; wincing he chose not to look closer. He knew what it meant. The currents had brought death here... it didn't smell of death. Maybe a characteristic of the moss. Some people would probably find that interesting, worth studying, but Sven just counted it as fortunate and moved on.
So far all the water seemed to be quite lifeless. It hadn't just been Arusian civilization the Drules had devastated... huge amounts of wildlife were either dead or in hiding, perhaps wondering how to tell the danger was over. Most of the lake had been superheated by the bombardment, and schools of dead fish still washed up every so often in the caves or on the beach.
Depressing.
The danger wasn't remotely over. What surprised him more than anything was that the Drules hadn't returned yet. What was taking them so long?
He ran his hand through the water, closed his eyes. Blue Lion? There was an immediate sense of response, a faint shock that ran through his fingers. It spoke of calm, of reassurance. "Blue Lion," he whispered with a little more confidence, and the tremor ran through him again.
There was a part of him that wondered if robot lions could become impatient, because he kept tugging at the link for no particular reason. To try to understand. To be certain it was still there. Just to feel it. Wasn't this supposed to be a military operation? It was best not to get too attached to your weapons... but there was no point even entertaining that argument. The lions were so much more.
How much more? He still didn't know. Nobody knew. But he supposed they would have plenty of opportunity to figure it out; the silence from the Drules could not last much longer.
Something rumbled around him, and the water shifted slightly. He frowned. Such a sound could signal an incoming attack, but there was something not quite right about it. Something vaguely familiar that didn't speak of warfare. Waiting, motionless, he finally heard another rumble and nodded.
Thunder.
A lake was no place to be hanging out during a thunderstorm, that much was for sure. Time to go home. He dove back into the churning water, resurfaced under a rapidly blackening sky, and sprinted for the castle.
Home.
Yurak had studied the battle footage for a week. He'd drilled his warriors relentlessly to stand against their specific foe, chosen a robeast that could perfectly counter Voltron's apparent weaknesses, though admittedly there wasn't really enough information to go on there. And he'd struck at Arus without warning, prepared to shatter their resistance.
The robeast was still doing okay, at least.
His people had broken.
To see Voltron in person was something incredible, something no amount of reports and holograms could have prepared them for. They'd simulated this a dozen times, and even his own blood had still frozen for a moment when the lion demon emerged from its energy barrier and entered the battle.
For a moment.
His command ship had held its ground; the Death Defiant was aptly named. The rest of the fleet had held initially as well, but when Voltron launched into the stormy sky and turned its blade against the first frigate it could reach, that had been the end of that. His ranks had shattered with shocking swiftness as the pilots realized the sky would not save them from the demon's grasp. One of his cruisers, the Star Hunter, had been gone even before the official retreat order was given.
But the admiral had given the order to retreat. How could he not? The cowardice of his warriors did not please him, but at the same time he fully understood it. Commander Cossack had given him a second bit of footage, a recording he'd held back from King Zarkon. His bridge recorder. Even with only sound to go on, the terror of those watching Voltron reborn was palpable.
He'd hoped knowing what they faced would temper the fear, but apparently not so much. It would take more than he had first thought to conquer the devil.
Very well.
Still he watched, the Death Defiant remaining in the Arusian atmosphere as the robeast fought. "It's only a matter of time," he muttered to his chief aide, a young warrior named Lirik who fought with skill and ferocity well beyond her years. "It doesn't have a chance."
"Pardon, sir?"
"Xindhi." He motioned to the screen, where the robeast in question was being thrown violently to the ground yet again, this time by a cyclone unleashed from Voltron's left hand. "We chose him expecting backup from the fleet. Doesn't have that now, and this rain's not helping a thing. Our sensors are fine, but you know his visibility's shot." Yurak did not make excuses, but neither did he ignore obvious factors in victory or defeat. The storm raging over their target area was a significant disadvantage. Pretending otherwise would be arrogance at best, incompetence at worst.
All that could be salvaged from this fight was knowledge. But knowledge was a weapon no good commander would ever turn down.
"Sir, do you wish me to report the cowardice of the Star Hunter to Korrinoth?"
He considered this offer briefly. Very briefly. The penalty for such desertion was as simple as it was brutal. The ship's captain would be executed—slowly, painfully, an example to any others who might think to run from a battle to save their own skins. The rest of the crew would be relegated to menial labor. And any lessons they may have learned, anything they may have been taught by reviewing the experience, would be lost.
Unacceptable.
"No, Lirik. I'll deal with them myself." The ocular implant in his left eye flared crimson. "We're facing a new kind of war, and I've chosen my people. It's going to take more than one failure before I sacrifice any warriors on the altar of politics. Let the court come face Voltron if they think they'd be any braver!"
She looked mildly taken aback. "Aye, sir."
"The storm front is approaching our location. Shall we retreat, admiral?" His helmsman, a crafty old pilot known merely as Snuff for reasons nobody was quite clear on anymore, sounded like he thought this would be an excellent idea.
Yurak snorted derisively. "Absolutely not. We'll leave when Xindhi falls, and not until."
That did not take nearly as long as he would've liked. The beast stumbled back against another onslaught, and Voltron brought its hands together, forming a massive sword which swung down and split the robeast in half in one blow. The metallic abomination didn't even stop to observe its handiwork as the wreckage erupted into flame; it was moving forward. Taking flight with the Death Defiant in its sights.
"Retreat," Yurak ordered quietly as the knight stared up at them through the clouds. "Send an order to the fleet to regroup in deep space. We will return to Korrinoth as a defeated unit, not scattered remnants."
"Coordinates being relayed, sir. Engaging jumpgate. What shall we do with the battle footage?"
Ah, yes. The recordings which would prove his fleet's desertion. He made a great show of thinking about it, though he knew the answer the moment Lirik asked. "Destroy the early video, and order the rest of the fleet to do the same. Claim interference from the storms. Keep one backup for my personal use."
This time his aide looked downright startled. "Admiral Yurak, forgive me, but are you certain?"
"It's as I told you. I won't have some petty bureaucrat looking over my peoples' shoulders. Follow my orders, Master Sergeant."
"Aye sir!"
What had she expected? He couldn't help wondering that as the Death Defiant vanished from the Arusian skies. He was known for being unconventional. That had won him his place at the head of the Ninth Kingdom's armada, even if it made most of the politicians squirm. In time, if all went well, it would bring this maddening god to its knees. But it was going to be harder than he'd thought.
Very well. What's life without a challenge?