I would like to take this opportunity to say that I do not own Voltron or any of the characters featured in it. They belong to the lucky folks at WEP and Devil's Due comics. All other characters are mine, however, as they are figments of my twisted imagination.
As requested, I did a minor edit on the radio pro-words to make them more sound more Drule-like. I hope that this enhances the dialogue and provides the reader with a more believable world.
Rites of Passage
They say you always remember your first time. That you will never experience that same feeling again with another. I certainly remember my first time. Her name was the GA-HMS Highlander. She was a Remington- Class carrier. She was an Alliance warship, not a pirate's skiff or a pathetic cargo vessel. And she was my first kill.
Chapter 1
I am flouting protocol by being here. I should be directing the attack from the safety of the bridge but regulations mean little to me right now. Instead, I am standing in the catwalk, waiting for my four man demolition crew to pop the old bitch's hatch. I stare intensely at the graying chipped paint of the ship's hull as if by doing so it will open faster. To say I am breathless with anticipation would be an immense understatement. I shift from one foot to the other, the magnetized soles of my boots making pinging sounds on the thin metal floor.
"Sir, we're almost there. Estimated seven minutes to breach." The crew chief, as if sensing my irritation, updates me, as I watch them work with lazon torches to pry her open.
"No worries…she's not going anywhere." I say smugly and I feel an irrepressible smile flicker across my face. She really isn't going anywhere. Not under her own power, that is. She is technically adrift and only the tractor beams from my cruiser hold her at rest. I still can't believe how easily I took her down. A carrier! Out manned and out gunned, there should have been no way my crew and cruiser could have taken her! But I did.
The orange red glow of molten metal rings the charred opening as the torches keep burning through with a hissing sound. I watch as droplets of it spill down forming perfect spheres in the reduced gravity of the catwalk before falling in slow motion to the floor. The bright red spots lay there like blood from a wound.
I take a deep breath, trying to stem my frustration. I have deployed two additional boarding teams aft and starboard. This is my ship. My kill. I want to be the first to come aboard her and claim my prize. And if these fuck-sticks don't hurry up, I'm going to be late for my own party.
"Bridge to Firesword Actual. We have visual on skeet. Please advise. Over." My first officer says over the comm in my ear. He forwards it to me and I look up to my left to see the bridge's main screen in miniature on the inside of my visor. I watch as four escape pods race to a jump port. I consider giving the order to fire on them but reconsider when I think about the value of that human cargo. I make a split second decision. It is brazen and reckless, just like attacking the carrier was. But instinctively I know it's the right action.
"Check fire on the skeet. Kill the jump port. Over," I order.
"Verify fire call. Over."
"Check fire on the skeet. Kill the jump port. Over," I repeat the order more forcefully.
"Kill the jump port?"
"Affirmative."
"Understood. Will comply."
My second looks over at me questioningly. I glare back at him. He's senior enlisted and he has proven invaluable during this, my first float as a commander. But I will not have my orders second guessed by anyone.
I watch as one of the pods makes it to the port and disappears in a flash. "Nngh!" I growl in anger.
This is taking far too long and I hear my men behind me shuffle restlessly. They are as eager as I am to make the Alliance taste the bile of defeat. I begin to worry that the enemy has had too much time to set up a defense. I begin to strategize on what countermeasures they will use. There's certainly a squad or two waiting on us on the other side. They will be positioned just outside the airlock, behind the blast doors in a stagger pattern. Humans are such creatures of habit. They'll probably use grenades first. As soon as we crack open the hatch they will launch them in and try to blow the catwalk and us with it into free fall in open space. That would really ruin my day.
But fortunately, I have prepared for that eventuality. PBFS. Portable Blast Force Shielding. The same thing we use to protect our ships from laser fire, projectile ordinance and bits of space debris. Except smaller and portable. It also has the added benefit of reflecting the concussion wave and any incendiary back in the direction it came. Not a big deal in the open, but it should prove to be very dramatic in within the narrow confines of the airlock. I ponder the results of a grenade attack and I actually hope that they hit us with everything they've got.
"Firesword Actual , HammerHand is at ready. Set on hot. Over." The team leader on the starboard side informs me.
"Understood. Stay ready. " I reply. Then suddenly I see a bright flash and a ring burst on my visual and I know the jump gate has been destroyed. Even if they make it to the pods, they have nowhere to go. I laugh to myself. This is going flawlessly-
" Bridge to Firesword Actual, We've got fleas! Over." It's my first officer again. Now what? I check my visual and I see three F-37 fighters bearing down on my vessel in a V formation. Immediately I think that they are going to come straight for the catwalks. Then to my relief, I see the fighter squadron that I initially deployed to provide cover for us vector to intercept. The Alliance pilots are obviously on a suicide mission and if they want to die I will certainly oblige them. Now this is my idea of a win-win situation.
" Firesword Actual to bridge. Flight crews to their stations. Execute kill." I order. I watch as moments later as another squadron of six fly out to smash these annoying pests into ballast. Then two of mine are shot down immediately as they exit the hanger. There were four Alliance fighters! One had been hiding under the Alliance vessel waiting in ambush.
"Fuck!" I curse loudly. I regret it immediately and recover my bearing as my second looks over at me again as do several of my soldiers.
"OneKill Six to Firesword Actual. We are at ready." The other team checks in.
"Stand ready. Over," I reply. They're waiting on us and I'm pissed. But I still will not order them to board without me. She's mine and I'm going first.
"OneKill is standing ready."
I check my visual again and one of my fighters scores a kill and another Alliance fighter is being chased. I watch as the pilot doubles back around and tries to shake them. Quite a talented flier…too bad he's on the losing side. Then a shudder courses down the catwalk and my visual of the bridge screen goes blank. I suddenly feel very vulnerable in the long fragile tube that holds me suspended in open space.
"Firesword Actual to bridge. What's going on over there? Over," I ask trying not to let my emotions show. I'm getting nervous that I may have bitten off more than I can chew. But I can never let anyone see that. Ever.
"We've taken a direct hit, Sir! Ship to ship collide. It's a friendly! One of our own birds, Sir. Over."
" Ngh! Damage report. Over."
"Fires on the third and fourth decks, Sir. Initiating containment procedures. Shielding and propulsion are unaffected but communications reports a bug. Over."
"Understood. Where's my visual? Over."
" Working on restoring visual now, Sir."
"Understood. Out."
It's as good as bad news can be. Third and fourth are berthing sections, which would be empty of crew right now. The damage is mostly cosmetic. But I realize now that I may have to return to the bridge. This bitch might be adrift but she is far from conquered. It is possible that I may not be the first to board my prize and I feel deeply disappointed at the thought. Such are the pitfalls of command…I will sorely miss the thrill of charging into battle and the chance to kill the enemy with my own hands.
"How long until we're in?" I ask my demolition crew chief calmly. My tone reflects none of the anger I'm feeling.
" The PFBS is in place and Just have to get through this last set of bolts, Sir, and set the charges." He answers attaching a fuse to EMT cap. I watch as the second to last bolt melts through and try not to scream at their slowness.
My visor flickers as my visual is restored and the image I see startles me. It's an Alliance pilot! They have the most annoying habit of hacking into our shipboard comm channels.
"Hey motherfuckers! Did you like that? You want some more?" A female voice shouts a mixture of Terran obscenities and Trade. I shake my head in irritation and switch channels.
"Firesword Actual to bridge. Send out another fighter squadron and shut them down. " I order casually.
"Sir, we're ready to set the charges." The crewman says.
Finally!
"Firesword is in position. Everybody ready to get some?" I'm excited and I completely abandon any attempt at comm etiquette. I can tell they are as well by their response.
"Yes, Sir!" HammerHand replies.
"Will. Comply." chimes in OneKill.
I smile at their enthusiasm.
"Battle formation! " I order all teams. With me in the lead we form two lines six deep and assume a position about ten feet from the entrance of the cat walk. We activate life support systems and ready our weapons.
"Fire in the hole!" Yells the crew chief and detonates the charges. There's a small flash as the explosion jolts the cut out piece of the hull away and it falls backward into the catwalk. There is an immediate eruption of fire as a volley of grenades impact the PFBS shields. I stand impassively as a plume of fire seems to come swirling into the catwalk. It is an optical illusion created by the shield as it absorbs then repels the energy of the blast, but still some of my men flinch. I make a mental note of who the cowards are.
"Advance! All teams go! You are cleared hot. Repeat. You are cleared hot!" I yell into my comm as we charge in through the acrid smoke and twisted molten metal.
My comm is interrupted by the Alliance pilot once more. I still have visual and I see her bearing down on our catwalk with four of mine behind her firing wildly. She's going to fire on it and suck us all into space.
"Oh, no you fucking don't! If I'm gonna die I'm takin' your fucking blue asses with me!" She snarls.
"Seal off the walk! Seal off the walk!" I yell franticly to my crew chief as we rush straight into Alliance laser fire.
I return fire on them and I see my crew chief go down as he tries to close off the walk remotely.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I curse. We are in a narrow corridor that extends in front and behind us and we are taking heavy fire from both sides. My men are holding ground but we are not advancing away from the entrance just yet as it is our only source of cover. There is still too much smoke for us to see where our targets are and we can't use our infrared because of the latent heat from the grenades. We are pinned down. Then my second throws a grenade taking out those that are in front. We press our advantage and gain ground into the airlock and some cover. I can hear in my comm that the other squads are faring only slightly better. The Alliance is putting up more of fight than I expected.
I'm tucked against the bulkhead trying to range my targets by the direction of their fire, when it occurs to me, in those odd, still moments that you only experience during live combat, that I was indeed the first to step aboard my ship. I feel a sudden elation and it fuels my blood lust. I'm in the zone now and instinct takes over. I can practically smell where they are hiding. I make three kills in rapid succession and there is a significant reduction in enemy fire.
"Seal off that fucking walk now!" I order again to the remaining members of the demo crew. Then I realize I am too late. I see in my visual that the Alliance pilot is coming back around, this time with only three of mine chasing her and I get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. There is no way I will be defeated on my first attempt at conquest! I think of my father and cringe. I don't think even death would be a refuge from his scorn.
I look behind me and I see that the second demo crewman is trying to close the walk but it won't seal because the grenade attack has damaged the surrounding structure. I look down to my left where my crew chief has fallen and I see the PBFS control by his leg. I lunge for it and land on my stomach just as there is a horrible roaring sound. The pilot has hit her mark finally. The catwalk is collapsing and the atmosphere and everything else in corridor is being vacuumed out into the killing void of space.
I feel myself being dragged on the ground toward the hole in the hull and I desperately try to activate the shield but nothing is happening. I am being pelted with random objects. I see an Alliance soldier slide screaming past me; his fingers clutch the jagged edges of the opening then disappear.
I clutch at anything and nothing with my free hand. The floor- the walls-but I am still dragged relentlessly toward the abyss. Then, for reasons known only to the Gods, the shield boots up and seals the hole. The chaos stops as suddenly as it started.
I find myself pressed halfway against the opening with the shield buzzing at my back. There is an Alliance soldier next to me and we are face to face. Both of us have just escaped an agonizing death by a hair's breath. Our eyes meet for a moment of shared relief and as he collects himself I draw my sidearm and shoot him.
"Damn, Sir. You're one mean son of bitch." says my second with a crooked grin as he makes his way over to me and hauls me to my feet.