Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any other material that belongs to either World Events Productions or Paramount. What are mine are the crew of the Berlin except for Mordock and Scotty, and the fighter Thunderwing, as well as the story itself.
Historical Note: For anyone interested, this story begins on stardate 51378.2, or May 17, 2374.
Star Tron: Escalations
Chapter 1: The Better Mouse Trap
Cheddar stuck his head around the corner and looked toward the command console. There it was! Pidge had left another sandwich unguarded. The Green Lion pilot was nowhere in sight. The mouse's ears twitched as he listened for any sign on Pidge in the area.
Nothing.
He turned around and squeaked to the other mice behind him. At once, Cheesy, Pip, Squeak and Chitter joined him, and the group scurried across the floor toward the console. This was going to be easy.
Suddenly, just as the mice reached the console, Haggar's blue cat appeared out of nowhere. Staring down at the mice, it yowled and hisses threateningly.
The five terrified mice jumped into the air, shrieking and waving their arms, then ran for the door as fast as they could. Just as they reached the heavy blast doors, they began to open, revealing a pair of tall, white boots blocking their path. Without a second thought, the mice began to climb, and kept going until they were all on Allura's shoulders, peeking out timidly from behind her neck and ears.
Allura was startled to find the mice climbing her clothes as she walked into Castle Control. She looked at Cheddar and asked, "What's the matter?"
The mouse squeaked and pointed hysterically at the main console, eyes wide with fear. Allura looked where Cheddar pointed, and saw the cat. She gasped and reached for her blaster as the cat suddenly faded and disappeared.
Then, as she looked around in confusion, she heard laughter coming from the corner, behind a bank of subsystem monitors. Blaster at the ready, she moved closer. Peering around the side of the monitors, she was surprised to see . . .
"Pidge?"
The boy looked up at her, snickering uncontrollably. "Oh, he, he, hey, Allura."
"What's going on? I just saw Haggar's cat."
"That wasn't the blue cat," Pidge said, stepping out from behind the monitors. "That was my new S.S.S."
"Your what?"
"Sandwich Security System. It was a hologram." He pointed to a small device he was carrying. "Maybe now those mice will stop trying to steal my food," he added, looking pointedly at Cheddar.
"Oh, Pidge, when will you stop picking on those poor, helpless mice?" Allura asked. Cheddar shook his small fist in the air, squeaking his support.
"When they stop trying to steal my snacks," Pidge replied matter-of-factly.
Allura looked again at the device Pidge was holding. It was a boxy, gray object with red and white markings on it. She'd never seen anything like it. "Where did you get that, anyway?"
"Adam."
Allura rolled her eyes. Figures, she thought.
During the exchange between Pidge and Allura, the mice had snuck off to the command console. Pidge happened to glance over just in time to see his sandwich walk off the plate on ten furry feet. "Hey!" he yelled.
Realizing they'd been spotted, the mice made a break for it. They made it to their mouse hole just as Pidge reached them. He knelt down and peered inside, seeing the mice hungrily tear into his sandwich.
"Hey, that's mine!" Pidge protested.
In reply, the mice made faces and gave him the raspberry.
Allura couldn't help but smile. As bright a kid as Pidge was, he still had problems outsmarting those mice. It looked like the Snack Wars would go on for quite a while yet.
Just then, a light on the main panel lit up, indicating an incoming message. Seeing as Pidge was otherwise occupied, Allura decided to take care of it herself. Touching a control, she saw that the source was a remote Alliance base near the edge of the galaxy. The message itself was an automated signal, data-only. Allura downloaded and displayed the message.
"Pidge!" she called.
"Yeah?"
"We're getting a distress signal."
"From where?" the boy asked, joining Allura at the console, his sandwich forgotten. He scanned the message, then punched a button for the intercom. "Control Room to Keith."
"Go ahead, Pidge."
"We're getting a distress call from Space Station Tango Seven. I think you should come up here."
"On my way. Round up the others."
"Aye, aye."
Pidge called Lance, Hunk, and Coran, and within moments, everyone was gathered around the console. A second message indicator lit up, and Coran answered it. "This is Castle Control. Go ahead."
"Coran, it's Adam. We're getting a distress call up here. Looks like an Alliance base."
"Affirmative. We have received the same message. It's from Tango Seven, a research outpost near the edge of the Cerulean Quadrant." Coran replied. He scanned the message, gleaning the most important details. "It appears they're under attack."
"Tango Seven is two days flight for the Lions," said Keith. "And we're the closest help. Everything else in range belongs to Zarkon."
There was a pause, during which Keith read over the message for himself. The base had been hit by a sizeable force of fighters and star cutters. Worse, the message was eleven hours old. By now, the battle was over, whatever the outcome.
"We can make it in ten hours and change, Keith. You're sure there's nothing closer?" Adam asked.
Keith glanced at Pidge, who shook his head. "No, nothing."
"Okay, then it looks like we're up. Cover the wormhole for us while we're gone."
"No problem," Keith replied.
"Right. Driscoll out."
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Driscoll rose from his seat and walked over to then helm officer. "Mike, set course for Space Station Tango Seven. Warp speed, all ahead flank."
Curtis' hands flew over his console. "Course laid in, speed set."
"Engage."
On the viewer, the image of Arus dropped away quickly, replaced by a fast-moving starfield. The viewer was streaked briefly by vivid colors, before settling into the image of stars whipping by at warp speed.
Returning to his seat, he punched a control on the arm. "Driscoll to sickbay."
"Saladin here."
"Sheik, we just got assigned a rescue mission. You have eight hours to get ready to receive casualties."
"How many?"
"Unknown. Plan for 500 to 1,000. We expect better numbers shortly.
"Human?"
"Humanoid, at least," Driscoll replied.
"Aye, sir. We'll be ready."
"Good. Driscoll out." He turned to Jacobs. "T.J., get your people ready, too. I want you to coordinate the rescue operation, as far as getting people aboard and squared away. And have Scotty prepare a team, too. If that base can be restored to functionality, it'll help relieve the stress on our systems."
"Yes, sir."
Driscoll nodded and rose from his chair. "I'll be in my ready room, Gredar. You have the bridge." In a less than half a day, all hell was gonna break loose, and he needed to get some information. "Call me when we enter Doom space."
Gredar grunted in reply, his silver eyes glinting. He didn't fully agree with the Captain's hasty decision, but humans were known to be impulsive, and Driscoll was no exception.
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Keith watched the sensor displays as the Berlin sped out of the system, and was lost to the Castle's sensors. If the starship kept to regulations, they wouldn't hear from her for an hour, until they crossed into Doom territory. She would be gone for at least a day, and maybe upwards of three. Three days without their support. Without Thunderwing.
Not that they couldn't handle it. They'd managed just fine before the Federation showed up. But if Lotor decided to attack the wormhole, they'd have to leave Arus to defend it, and the planet would be almost completely unprotected.
"Hunk, Pidge, take your Lions up and cover the wormhole. Lance and I will be up to relieve you in four hours. We're going to have to keep a 'round the clock watch until the Berlin gets back."
"Right, Keith," Hunk replied. Pidge nodded as Coran raised the console, exposing the launch tubes. Within seconds, they were gone.
"What about me, Keith?" Allura asked.
The Voltron Force commander regarded the Princess a moment. The look in her eyes dared him to keep her on the ground. She wanted to share in the rotation. For a moment, his need to protect her fought with his commander's instinct to put her in.
Finally, he said, "You and Hunk will relieve Lance and I."
Allura smiled. "Okay."
Coran cleared his throat. "In that case, you should all get some rest. You're going to be doing a lot of flying over the next couple of days."
"Good thinking, Coran," said Keith. He led the way out of the Control Room followed by Lance and Allura. The Princess split off and headed for her chambers, while Lance walked with Keith, as their rooms were next to each other.
Keith noticed the way Lance was glancing at him. "Something on your mind, Lance?"
"Man, do you have and idea what you looked like in there?"
"What do you mean?"
"Keith, when Allura asked you what she was supposed to do, it took you forever to answer. Then when she smiled . . ."
"Drop it, Lance."
"Aw, come on, Keith. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, she's gorgeous, smart. . ."
"Lance . . ." Keith warned.
They reached Keith's door and walked into the room. "Look, you didn't blow your cool. But we've been together since the Academy. I know you."
"Lance, we've had this discussion before. Nobody goes after the Princess. She's out of bounds."
"Well, she and Adam have been spending a lot of time together lately."
A pang of jealousy shot through Keith, but he reined it in. "I can't stop Adam from doing anything."
Lance looked at him. He'd seen Keith's reaction, and it only confirmed his suspicions. "All I'm trying to say, Keith, is let it be. Control yourself all you want, but. . ."
"Lance, I know what you're about to say, and don't. I've had enough. I want to rest before we fly."
Lance knew better than to argue. He'd pushed Keith far enough for one day. "Okay. I was just saying. I'll see you in a few hours."
Keith nodded, and Lance left the room. He knew exactly what his friend was getting at. Lance knew how he felt about Allura, and was trying to encourage him. But Keith was never the Casanova that Lance was. He'd always been shy and insecure in approaching women. He could command a fighter wing effortlessly in the heat of combat, but talking to girls was an impossible mission. Especially feeling how he did about Allura.
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his long, black hair, then flopped down at his desk and opened a folder.
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A/N: For some reason, my formatting didn't transfer properly the first time I posted this chapter, so it was a little hard to keep straight. Sorry about that. Everything seems to be working fine now, though.