Beyond
one
"Lotor."
The voice was soft, almost gentle—strange, coming from Acxa. Lotor didn't turn from his station, instead bracing himself with his hands on the railing before him.
"Lotor," Acxa said again, and this time, his name was charged with electricity. An undercurrent of urgency. He glanced over. "Perhaps it is best if you should…"
Lotor arched an eyebrow. "Rest?"
She didn't flinch at his cutting tone, but Lotor caught her hand clenching at her side.
"I…" Acxa started, but she paused. Lotor frowned—she knew she could speak freely to him. "It does you no good to- to obsess over this, Lotor. As your friend, I don't want to see you become like—"
She stopped there, but Lotor knew what she was going to say.
"My mother?"
Acxa really did flinch this time. She rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment.
Lotor sighed. She looked like she expected him to be angry, but he felt hollow instead. Empty and barren, a stretch of dry land begging for rain.
"I need to finish what she began," Lotor said, "and we need to make sure there is no more danger. The universe has a big enough threat already."
Acxa bared her teeth at his words; in his own throat, Lotor felt a growl rise in response.
Footsteps interrupted their conversation.
"Lotor," Ezor called, briefly dipping her head in submission before grinning. "I have news."
"News," Acxa repeated flatly.
Lotor crossed his arms. "Let's hear it, then."
"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
He rubbed at his face. "There's good news?"
Ezor hummed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I was trying to be nice," she said. "There's never good news!"
"Of course there isn't," Lotor muttered tiredly, but he waved a hand at her to continue. Acxa shifted closer to him as Ezor strode towards them.
"For starters," Ezor began, holding up a finger. "Well. Empress Allura's on the move again—"
"Yeah," Acxa scoffed, "and blood is bloody. What's new?"
"Acxa," Lotor warned.
"Yes, sir."
"She's sent some secret orders to a few of her fighters. They're to engage us in a fight, keep us busy. Also, to capture you, but that's nothing interesting."
"Busy," Lotor repeated. "Busy for what?"
"That's the second part," Ezor chirped. "I think the empress herself is looking for something. Well—our informant said she wants to find the rift."
Next to him, Acxa sucked in a sharp breath.
Lotor growled, the sound deep in his throat. Ezor's bright expression didn't change, but she did take a step back.
"Tell Zethrid to lead some of ours to intercept the fighters," Lotor said. "As for… Empress Allura, we can't afford to let her gain access to the rift. If my mother's research is correct…"
He let the words sink into the air, settling like dust. Tried not to think about Mother, about the way she'd looked after her experiments began, about how she'd closed off and drifted away. Or the better times, when they'd danced together on soft Altean grass or the sound of her laughter.
Tried.
"Yes, Lotor," Ezor said, breaking the silence. "And the rest of us?"
Lotor ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. "Have Narti go with Zethrid. Ezor, Acxa, you'll come with me."
Acxa blinked. "And where will we go?"
His lips curled into a smile. "To the rift, of course. Like we've been planning for movements now."
Acxa looked a bit hesitant. "Ah… right."
For all her energy, Ezor didn't look too excited, either. "Isn't it just a teensy bit dangerous?"
"Since when have my commanders balked in the face of danger?"
Acxa squared her shoulders. "I said I would follow you to the mouth of hell, Lotor. That hasn't changed."
Ezor's eyes shone; she nodded in agreement.
"Let's go," Lotor said. "I want you ready in ten."
"Yes, sir," Acxa and Ezor said in unison. Lotor was already stalking away, cloak flaring behind him. He heard them leave: Ezor to inform Zethrid and Narti of their new orders, and Acxa to prepare the ship.
Lotor went instead to his chambers, shoving the doors aside and stepping in. There was nothing particularly extravagant about it, despite being the prince.
The bed was messy, papers and books strewn across one side and pinning down the dark blanket. Nearby was Lotor's desk, covered with more notes and little bottles, glowing glass that tinted his room in different colors. The liquid inside seemed to be constantly shifting as if it was alive.
He crossed the room to the far wall, gripping the sword that hung there. It was heavy—both in weight and in legacy—and Lotor turned to face the mirror by his bed.
You look like your father, Mother would have said. She would've smiled, her thin lips turning upwards and her eyes brightening.
He'd never quite been able to see it. Lotor had always looked more like her than Father; they had the same face, the same features.
"I'm not him," Lotor murmured, studying his form in the mirror. In the eerie glow of his room, the sword caught the strange light and reflected it onto his armor.
This was Father's sword, sharp and unforgiving. It'd served him well—until, of course, Alfor had killed him.
Lotor gritted his teeth, trying not to think of how empty it felt without Father's presence filling the halls.
"Dammit," he hissed, feeling his eyes begin to burn. He couldn't grieve, didn't have time to, not while she was at large.
"There's work to be done," Lotor told himself. He set Zarkon's sword back where it belonged and took his own down from the wall. Slimmer and smaller, but strong, made of metal drawn from the pits of Sumnar itself.
Oathkeeper. A beautiful blade, better than most. One day, he'd use it to take down Allura.
Lotor wasted little time slipping on the rest of his armor, swapping what he was wearing with another set that was more suited for his mission. He'd strengthened it with quintessence—dangerous, but it served him well. The rift's effects couldn't be taken lightly.
His comms beeped as he was about to leave.
"Zethrid," he greeted, taking his cloak from where he'd tossed it on the bed and slinging it over his shoulders. The material was worn but still strong; it'd add another layer of protection.
"Lotor," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I heard from a little bird that you're sending me to take out a couple ships."
Lotor hummed in answer.
"Well? How dead do you want them, pretty boy? Sliced? Roasted? Served back to you on a platter, your Highness?"
"I appreciate it, Zethrid," he said, not batting an eye, "but all I need is for you and Narti to be the distraction. They're trying to keep our attention off them while they sneak off, but we'll be playing them right back. Got that?"
"Lemme kill them," Zethrid said. "Like, a little."
Lotor left his chambers, heading towards the hangars.
"Do what you have to," he said. "Just—"
"Just what?"
"It doesn't matter." His voice had turned bitter. "Know your orders and follow them, Zethrid. And do not let them find out that I'm not with you."
There was a beat of silence.
"Am I understood?"
"Sure, Lotor."
It was her version of what Acxa had said—that she'd follow his orders, and that she was loyal to him. A bit of warmth bloomed in his chest.
"I'll see you on the other side."
Zethrid grunted. Lotor cut the comms.
As expected, Acxa and Ezor were already waiting for him, leaning with their heads together as they spoke in low tones. Acxa straightened when she saw him.
"Lotor," she said, all business.
Ezor was a little less stiff. "That took you so long, Lotor. Were you doing your hair?"
He touched his hair, only then remembering the way it was spilling over his shoulders. Lotor rolled his eyes.
"Ready to leave?"
"Of course."
"No time to waste," Lotor said. "Get in, losers."
Ezor beamed. The corner of Acxa's lips twitched upwards as she followed Ezor into the ship, leaving Lotor standing outside. He scanned it for a moment, gazing at the details, the symbol Mother had painted for him.
They slipped out of the base without any fanfare, just the three of them in Lotor's ship.
It made him uneasy, separating his team. He wanted them all by his side, but the separation was necessary. Zethrid and Narti were more than capable, and he trusted them to carry out his orders.
"Setting location," Ezor said.
"Power to main thrusters," Acxa replied.
Lotor allowed himself a smile as they tore through the stars.
They kept a steady pace, fast enough that they'd reach the rift before Allura did. The Guns of Gamara headquarters weren't too far from it, though it was safer to be further than closer.
Lotor signaled for the ship to slow as they approached the system—filled with dangerous debris as it was, going fast would be deadly. He was a good pilot, better than good, but his ship had taken a beating the last time they'd ran into Altean "peacemakers."
"Message," Ezor called from the front. "You wanna take it?"
"Just play it," Lotor said.
There was a stifling beat while it came through. Then—
"Prince Lotor," a voice drawled through the speakers. Lotor and his generals exchanged a look.
"Rolo," Lotor said. "To what do I owe this… honor?"
"Heh. Honor, huh?"
"We have a report for you, prince."
And there was Nyma's voice. She always managed to sound coy, even through a comms unit miles and miles away, her voice tinny and filtered.
"Keep going. Acxa, left."
They passed through a set of meteors.
"Empress Allura's headed your way," Rolo said.
A brief panic flashed through Acxa's eyes, and Lotor felt the same panic coil in his stomach. He calmed himself; they hadn't told anyone they'd be leaving or where they'd be going.
"That's helpful," Ezor said cheerfully, but there was a bite to her words. "What is our way? Tell us something useful."
Rolo sighed, the comms crackling as he did.
"You left the base, didn't you? Nyma saw you leave. So did a few others."
Lotor's lips flattened into a displeased line. Acxa opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. Ezor's eyes narrowed.
He caught himself. "And?"
"We have reason to believe that Empress Allura doesn't know where the rift is—but you do. And she's following you to it."
She should have known where it was, with Alfor and with Mother. Should have, and so Lotor had assumed she did.
Lotor ground his teeth together as Ezor swore under her breath.
Acxa had crossed over to the controls.
"Lotor, he's right," she said. "We made a stupid mistake. There's a few ships on our tail."
Sure enough, five blinking red dots were clustered behind them, moving slowly but surely like a ring of predators closing in on their prey.
"How did they find us?"
"Mole, maybe?" Rolo suggested. "Not us, of course—we'd never sell you out. But someone could've overheard your orders, watched you leave. And… you've been planning this mission for a while, like you told us. It was only a matter of when that we didn't know, but the pieces can be put together easily enough."
"A spy…" Acxa murmured. "We'll let Narti weed them out."
"Anyway," Nyma said before they could get too into it. "The point is, she's using you. Just thought we should let you know before it becomes too big of a problem."
Lotor tapped his fingers together and frowned.
"Thank you," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "I appreciate the information, Nyma, Rolo. We will see you at the base later? You said you saw us leave."
"We were by the moon," Rolo said. "Not actually there, but you'll see us soon. Just got back from our little trading session."
"Sounds fun," Ezor said. "Get anything good?"
"Oh, plenty," Nyma said. "Though you'll have to trade for it."
Ezor grinned. "Or I could fight for it."
"Hm," Nyma replied. "You think you can beat me?"
"I trained her myself," Lotor cut in. "You'd have a hard time with that, Nyma. Ezor puts up quite a fight."
"I look forward to it, then."
Ezor had since turned her attention away. "We're approaching, Lotor."
He nodded sharply.
"I'll contact you later," he said, switching the comms off before either Rolo or Nyma could say another word. "I want you to switch courses."
"What?" Acxa asked sharply.
Lotor stood from his seat, stepping over to the maps and using a finger to gesture at the approaching asteroid belt.
"Our ship is faster and smaller," he said. "We lead them through here and let their own piloting be their downfall. Distract them enough and then slip back to the rift."
"They'll follow us?"
Lotor waved a hand. "Alteans… so susceptible to their emotions. Set them off, and they'll chase us through anything."
"How mad are we talking?"
Lotor hummed. "Enough that Zethrid will complain later."
Ezor's eyes gleamed. She saluted with two fingers. "Yes, sir."
"Should we split up?" Acxa asked. "Give them a hard time."
"Not bad," Lotor praised. He twisted his hair up and slid his helmet on. "Though I bet I can take out more ships than you."
"Is that a challenge, Prince Lotor?" Ezor asked.
"I'll let you decide," Lotor responded, heading back to his seat. "But I'm winning."
The ship split to the sound of their laughter. It twisted, then detached, the smaller ship leaving the bigger one. They drifted from each other; Lotor glanced over and saw the two silhouettes of his generals painted in the windows, dark smudges in the light. He waved a hand at them and then settled back, gripping the controls and grinning. He hadn't flown in too long. It'd be fun to test his skills.
The Altean ships following them had seen the split. Three followed the main ship, tailing Ezor and Acxa, who would no doubt gloat later; the remaining two followed him, closing in from either side.
Lotor flexed his fingers and then dove, plummeting and scraping by an asteroid. He pressed forward, pushing his ship faster and maneuvering through the debris.
To his chagrin, the Altean ships kept up. They were good—both the pilots and the ships. Father had always admired their handiwork.
Lotor swept past another asteroid and then turned around as fast as he could. The ship shuddered but did as he directed, leveling the blasters at the Alteans.
He didn't give them time to react, blasting them a few times to slow them down and then turning around again.
"Let's have a little fun, hmm?"
A laser clipped the rock to his right, a chunk breaking off. Lotor banked upwards, dancing through the rocks. He twisted to the left, slipping under cover as laserfire peppered at his back.
As confident as he was in his abilities, he wasn't as much in his ship. It groaned as he pushed it faster, slipping between a narrow channel of two asteroids. Just behind him, one of the Altean ships slammed into the asteroids; he watched it burn.
His ship shuddered.
Lotor felt his flight dip and growled, leaning forwards.
"Quiznak," he hissed, catching sight of the clipped wing. Lotor leaned right, trying to keep the weight balanced, but it wasn't working.
"How you doing over there, Lotor?"
"Not great," Lotor replied through gritted teeth as he tilted dangerously. "You?"
"Shit," Acxa said. "Yeah, shoot th— we're good. Need a hand?"
In the distance, Lotor saw the end of the asteroid belt. He'd almost made it out, but he still had a ship to leave behind.
Lotor switched tactics and slowed down, cutting his engines until there was only a faint purr as he ambled through the asteroid belt.
His ship rippled as he activated the cloaking device, hiding it from view. It wouldn't last long—only a few doboshes—but it was just enough time to do what he needed.
He allowed himself another smile. "Who is doing the hunting now?"
The Altean ship slowed once its pilot realized he'd disappeared. Against the darkness of space, the sleek white-and-silver ship stood out in stark contrast. Lotor watched it pass, long and triangular in shape, and waited.
He readied his blasters, charging them until they were at full power and then settled, wondering if this is what Kova felt like, crouching in wait for the attack.
Lotor lined up his shot carefully, knowing he'd only have one chance. The ship disappeared behind an asteroid, inching closer to Lotor's location, and he flexed his fingers.
A tick passed. Then another.
He caught a gleam of silver and poured his energy forwards. The blasters fired mercilessly.
It was over in an instant.
Brilliant colors painted the sky, white metal turned bright red flame. Lotor watched it burn, feeling something in his chest harden at the sight, before he left it behind.
"Lotor, are you there?"
"I'm here," he responded, making his way out of the asteroid belt. He saw the other ship waiting in the distance.
"You don't look that great."
Lotor scoffed. "I always look great."
"Stop worrying, Acxa. He's clearly fine."
"There are repairs to be made when we return," Lotor said, landing. There was a whirring as the ships fit together, becoming one once again. The door slid to the side, and he took his helmet off as he walked in.
"And there's still too much to do," he continued, running a hand through his thick hair. "Head back towards the rift."
"Yes, sir."
"Glad to see you're alive," Ezor commented. She didn't look worried, instead casual as she leaned back and studied him.
"No worse for the wear," Lotor reassured. He frowned. His piloting had been less than stellar. "We'll continue training after this mission. There's skills I need to brush up on."
"Ah, so the invincible Lotor needs to train as well."
Lotor frowned.
"I'm not invincible," he argued. But he could be better than he was, could always be better, or faster, or stronger, not someone to laugh at or step over because of who he was.
"That's what you have us for."
Lotor bumped shoulders with Ezor. "It's me keeping you alive, not the other way around."
"Lotor, there's something wrong."
He sobered immediately. "What is it?"
"I'm getting high energy level readings from the rift," Acxa reported. Lotor tracked the screen with sharp eyes. "Look at these spikes."
"Time?"
"In the past few doboshes." She pointed at the more stable line. "It started just now."
"Maybe this is why Allura's so interested," Ezor said. "Do you think this happened before?"
"We would have known if it had."
"Get closer," Lotor ordered. "Acxa, Ezor, to the back chamber."
He hadn't had the time to put together suits for them, and he regretted it now. Much like his armor, the back chamber was enforced to keep them safe from the energy of the rift.
They left without hesitation, leaving Lotor alone in the cockpit. He placed his hands on the controls, feeling the ship respond to him. A thrill of energy ran up his spine.
"I am in control," he murmured, and the ship bent to his will, purple light flaring.
"See anything?"
"Nothing," Lotor replied.
The rift was just as he remembered it. Dark, far darker than the sky surrounding it. It seemed to live and breathe; every few ticks, light would flash across it, illuminating it. Inside, he could see moving shapes and shifting colors. Fascinating, endlessly so, but also terrifying.
It was only Mother's device that kept it from opening further. Kept it locked.
It is only luck, she'd written in her notes. Luck and nothing more. The rift has opened from the other side—whatever lurks there, I do not know. Dangerous creatures, quintessence beyond imagining… and beyond that, perhaps another reality itself.
The rift looked like someone had torn through space itself, had taken a blade and cut through the sky and stars to reveal something underneath.
On the screen, the energy readings had reached an impossible height—and then Lotor saw it.
Light.
White and blinding, it poured between cracks in the sky and dripped, brighter than starlight. Lotor cried out, shielding his eyes and hearing the distant, almost-panicked voices of his generals. In his helmet, his comms burst with interference. He tore it off and threw it to the floor.
"Lotor!"
Lotor wasn't listening. Wasn't paying attention, because there was something coming out of the rift.
A dark shape, formless and fathomless—just a flash before it was gone. Lotor blinked, wondering if he'd imagined it.
And then something else followed it. A ship, perhaps, but it wasn't quite a ship. A being, magnificent and indescribable. Dimly, he recognized the pieces: five lions fit together into a warrior. In its hand was a gleaming sword that looked like it could raze entire worlds. Behind it stretched iridescent wings.
The being fell apart, detaching into five lions. The one in the center—the black one, the head and torso—was dark and unresponsive, but the others seemed to flock to it.
Lotor regained his bearings, and at a thought, his ship sent out a flare. Light streaked across the sky between them, and he heard a lion roar in response.
Incoming communication. Lotor accepted it, staring at the Red Lion that had now turned to face him. Its eyes were bright and yellow—Lotor felt its mind brush against his, embers sparking.
There was a burst of static before a man's voice filled the cockpit.
"Please…"
Perhaps another reality itself…
"I am Prince Lotor of Za'al," he began, leaning forward.
"Prince, please," came the plea. "We need your help. Our leader…"
"You passed through the rift," Lotor murmured.
"Impossible," the man breathed.
Lotor went rigid. He knew that voice, knew it like he knew his own. Alfor.
"Tell me why I should help you," he snarled, feeling his blood begin to boil under his skin.
"If Honerva is… was correct, we have passed into another reality different from our own," Alfor said. "We need to go back, but without Voltron, we cannot. And—"
He'd stopped listening. He'd stopped listening after the first few words. Honerva. Mother. And wherever she went, Lotor knew, and in every reality, Father would follow.
Perhaps this Alfor had betrayed them. Perhaps he had not. But it didn't matter, not anymore.
"Come with me," Lotor said. "I will see what I can do."