This story is fully written for those that are wondering. I'm just editing at this point. I decided to give you guys a second chapter already since the first was very short & so is this one actually. Don't have a posting schedule figured out, but you should see a chapter at least weekly.

Thanks to the reviewers and those that have already favorited the story. Moving on!

Chapter 2:

Several hours later, Keith walks down the hallway, freshly showered, hair trimmed short to Garrison standards, clean-shaven, and dressed in his crisp, dark blue, Garrison issued uniform. He takes a deep breath to quell the sudden burst of nerves ravaging his system. Stopping before the desired doorway, he gives three sharp knocks to the door panel. A deep male voice calls out, "Enter."

Walking into the office, Keith finds Admiral Graham sitting behind his desk, a thick file open in front of him as he continues to study its contents. He looks up to find Keith standing stiffly near the door and the light in his eyes changes as he studies him closely. Taking another deep breath and carefully releasing it as not to be seen, Keith moves in front of the desk and salutes the man, "You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes Commander, I did. Please have a seat."

Sitting down on the chair next to him, Keith looks expectantly at the admiral. The older man sits back in his seat, still assessing him. Finally, he asks, "How have you been faring?"

"I'm fine, sir. Ready for active duty," Keith responds sharply.

"Ready are you?" the admiral questions, his gaze never faltering. "Somehow, I don't entirely believe you."

"I can assure you, Admiral-"

"Please," Admiral Graham interjects, his irritation shining in his expression. "Don't think for a moment that I'm foolish enough to believe you've gotten over the death of your wife in a month."

Having the good grace to look away, Keith takes another deep breath. Fighting back the sting of tears he feels rising at the mention of his wife, he quietly murmurs, "No sir."

"Luckily for you, there are certain demands being made for your expertise."

Looking back up, Keith finds a disgusted expression on the admiral's face as he continues, "By one of the few individuals in this damn outfit who outrank me, Space Marshal Devereux." He sits up in his chair and leans across his desk, "Have you heard of Planet Arus in the Diamond sector of the Denubian Galaxy?"

"No sir," Keith responds carefully, his hopes rising.

"They were overrun some years ago by a section of the Drule Empire controlled by King Zarkon and his demonic son, Prince Lotor. Most of the cities were destroyed and a majority of the people taken as slaves," the admiral informs him. "We have no idea how many people may be left or the general condition of the planet."

"But they wish me to go there?" questions Keith, utterly confused. "Why?"

"Have you heard of Voltron, Commander?"

Shaking his head, Keith listens to the admiral sigh before he explains, "Voltron was the robotic champion of Arus, before Zarkon's witch, Haggar, managed to disarm him. With the Drules infringing on our territories more and more every day, the Garrison Council has decided to send a small group to Arus to find this robot and try to revive him."

Keith can't help the snort of disbelief that escapes him, "They want the impossible."

"The impossible is what you specialize in, Commander," Graham reminds him with an arch of his eyebrow. "Or did before you quit."

Refusing to show any emotion to that remark, Keith listens to him as he continues, "You and a team of four other men I'm putting together will go to Arus and determine if Voltron still exists. If he does, you are to revive him and Arus. Voltron may be all that comes between us and an all-out intergalactic war with the Drules."

"Who is on my team?" questions the commander, curiosity getting the better of him.

The admiral picks up the folder he was perusing earlier and tosses it across the desk at him. Picking it up, Keith opens it and begins paging through the dossiers of his new team. Relief fills him at the familiar picture and name of his friend, "First-Lieutenant Sven Holgersson, specialties: battle tactics, combat, and flight."

Graham seems to echo his sentiments as he states, "I asked for Lieutenant Holgersson to be transferred to your squad. A familiar face may come in handy for a mission like this, especially if you become emotionally compromised and someone needs to take over command."

The last remark has Keith raising his head. His gaze and tone are firm as he states, "There will be no issues."

A ghost of a smile flicks across his face as the admiral remarks, "If you say so."

Ignoring him, Keith looks back down, and flips to the second page. The man in the photo has crisp brown hair and stares back at him with a hint of arrogance at the corners of his eyes and the tilt of his head. He seems to be challenging the camera. Keith reads aloud, "Second-Lieutenant Lance McClain, specialties: combat and flight."

"McClain is a bit of a smart ass and can be hard to manage, but you're hard put to find a better pilot. He's flown circles around the best of the Academy instructors," remarks Graham. "I'm sure you can handle any personnel issues that may come up with him."

Keith simply nods and turns the page. A large built man with shaggy brown hair and average features stares back at him. "Private Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garrett, specialties: flight, mechanics, and weapons specialist."

"Garrett is a monkey-wrench. I don't think there's anything mechanical out there that he can't take apart, fix and put back together."

Flipping to the last page, Keith's breath catches in his throat at the sight of his final team member. An awkward looking teenager stares back at him beside the name, "Private Darrell "Pidge" Stoker, specialties: combat, computer systems, flight, mechanics, and weapons specialist."

Sensing his dismay, Admiral Graham states, "Stoker is genius. Don't let his age and size fool you, that youngster can hold his own and you will need him to figure out the technology behind Voltron, assuming you find him."

Nodding, Keith closes the file then looks back at Graham, "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you are ready," the admiral responds. "Meet with your team this afternoon. Get your supplies requested by the end of the day."

"Yes sir," Keith responds then rises. "Permission to be dismissed?"

Sighing, Admiral Graham stands as well, "I need you to be on top of your game for this one, Commander. There can be no room for error. If at any time you feel unable to continue-"

"I would never risk endangering my team," Keith crisply interrupts him. "If something occurs where I feel I am unable to perform the tasks before me, you will be the first to know."

Nodding, the admiral says, "Good luck, Commander. Dismissed."

Saluting him, Keith turns around and leaves the room. Glancing down at the file in his hand, he decides to return to his room and pour over its contents thoroughly. He needed to know everything about the men assigned to him before he met with them that afternoon.

xxxxxxxxxx

Three hours later, Keith walks toward the conference room assigned to him for his meeting with his new team, their profiles folder in his hand. His mind is awhirl with thoughts about his new team, the upcoming mission and what little information he was able to dig up on Arus in the short time he had before leaving to meet his team. So lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice someone falling in step with him until he hears, "You know, one would think you could at least say hello to an old friend."

Glancing sideways, Keith suddenly stops and smiles at his friend, "Sven! Man, I'm glad to see you."

The Norwegian smiles broadly, "So who did you have to bribe to get me on your team?"

Snorting in derision, the commander starts walking once more before replying, "It was the admiral's idea. He is worried I might have a mental meltdown on the mission and wanted someone who knew me-"

"-with the ability to assess your mental state along," Sven finishes for him with a shake of his head.

"Something like that," Keith agrees. "And someone with the ability to take over the mission if I become emotionally compromised."

Sven snorts in derision, "You're already emotionally compromised."

Stopping abruptly as his temper explodes, Keith snarls, "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, Sven stands there and stares thoughtfully at his friend for a moment before saying, "Can you even think about Beverly yet without feeling like you can't breathe?"

The muscle in Keith's cheek ticks with his anger until he brusquely shakes his head and turns to walk down the hall once more. Sven rushes to keep up with him. Keith's tone is terse as he snaps, "That has no bearing on my ability to do my job."

"So you like to tell yourself," Sven retorts, his own tone turning sharp. "I know you, my friend. You'll compartmentalize it and do the job, yes. However, at some point you will have to deal with the death of your wife and when that happens, I don't want you to melt down on an unfamiliar planet surrounded by unfamiliar people in a possibly hostile environment."

Stopping again to face him, Keith growls, "What fucking choice do I have? We've been ordered to Arus!"

"A job I'm sure the admiral would have allowed you to decline had you asked," Sven answers sarcastically.

"He didn't even want to offer it to me, but had no choice," he argues back. "Space Marshal Devereux gave the order."

Sven's eyebrows go up in surprise. The head of the Garrison Council is the one man no one could deny. Swearing broadly with his hands on his hips, the Norwegian finally looks back at his friend to say, "Promise me that if you feel unable to continue, you'll tell me immediately. Do not wait until you fall apart on me entirely."

Giving a short nod of his head in answer, Keith turns away and continues down the hall. Drawing a deep breath, Sven turns to follow him. They reach the conference room a short time later to find the other three waiting. Hunk, Pidge and Lance stand at attention upon their entrance and stare straight ahead. Giving them a cursory glance, Keith finally orders, "At ease and have a seat."

Once everyone is seated at the conference table, he begins, "You all received your briefings. We head for Planet Arus as soon as possible, so we need to keep this brief. We need to order our supplies today and pretty much have carte blanche. McClain, I leave it to you to find an appropriate ship. Garrett, you're on weapons detail. Stoker, I need you to find as much information on Arus as possible. Holgersson and I will take care of the remaining supplies. Any questions or concerns?"

"Yeah," Lance sarcastically starts as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, "how much life insurance should I take out on myself before we go? Going into Drule territory like this is suicidal!"

Keith doesn't answer immediately as he quietly stares down the second-lieutenant. When he does speak, his tone is firm with his authority, "There's a lot of things I will tolerate, McClain, but disrespect isn't one of them. We've been given orders and we will follow them."

"Yes, sir," he replies, his tone still shining with sarcasm.

Shaking his head at him, Keith turns back toward the others, "Get your supplies ordered and meet in the commissary at eighteen hundred hours. For a mission like this, we need to spend some time getting to know each other." Standing up, he finishes, "Dismissed."