I meant to put this at the very beginning of this story, and then I meant to put it in each of the subsequent chapters, so I'm fixing things now. This story is dedicated to GriffTalon, who was my first reviewer, and has kindly reviewed everything I've written since then, as well as giving me several great story ideas. Thanks! :)

Allura, perfectly poised, stood beside her shuttle and gazed at the approaching Tolsians. They were a short race, the Tolsians, with bone-white skin and pale pink eyes. (Upon seeing a picture of them, Lance had referred to them as albinos – Allura wasn't certain as to why – and Pidge had launched into a rapid-fire explanation about pigmentation.)

"Princess Allura of Altea," said one, his voice strangely clipped. "We welcome you to our home planet. If you will please to follow us? Your quarters await."

"Very well." Allura inclined her head graciously, despite her disgruntled feeling at how the aliens were ignoring Coran.

Her advisor, naturally, seemed not to mind, but strode alongside her, hands clasped behind his back as he oohed and ahhed about every bit of alien technology they passed.

The Tolsian escorts stopped before a wide, low building and bowed, opening the door. Allura was forced to stoop quite a bit in order to enter, but she managed it gracefully. Coran contorted himself rather more than was strictly necessary as he followed, his back popping loudly when he straightened up again.

Allura gave him a look.

The Tolsian spokesman, his pink eyes gleaming, spoke again. "Princess Allura, if you will please to wait here, there is a visitor with whom you must speak."

Immediately, Allura's senses jumped to 'high alert'. 'With whom you must speak?' Not a word usually found in diplomatic meetings. . .

Coran had obviously picked up on it, too, for he edged toward the door, one hand reaching for his communicator.

At his movement, two of the Tolsians stepped forward to block him. "You cannot leave."

Allura drew herself to her full height. "Who are you to command us? We are here at your council's invitation, and under no obligations to any of you!"

The spokesman gestured, and he and his companions left the room without a word. Coran charged after them, but the door slammed shut, just missing his outstretched hands.

"Quiznak!" He clenched his fists straight down at his sides. "In my younger days I could have caught them with twelve ticks to spare! . . . Or maybe more. Hm."

"It's all right, Coran." Allura glanced around the bare chamber. "Do you have any idea who our captor could be?"

"The Tolsians, who else?!" He folded his arms with a huff.

"Yes, but someone ordered them to detain us. They called him a 'visitor'."

"Ah, I see what you mean! It's the old capture-and-faldercrag routine!"

Before she could answer, the door opened again, and Allura raised an eyebrow. That had been. . . fast, to say the least.

"You may come forth," declared the spokesman.

Allura looked down her nose at him – an easy task, considering the Tolsians' height – and said, "If he wishes to speak with us, he may. I will wait for him."

A momentary flash of concern colored the spokesman's features, but then he bowed and withdrew. He and several others conferred frantically, and then the door creaked open.

"Princess Allura, you must come out. We will use force, if necessary." He sounded almost apologetic as he added, "We cannot risk angering our – guest."

Coran's mustache bristled. "And yet you risk angering the princess Allura of Altea? Sounds like you have your priorities mixed!"

Allura caught a glimpse of purple through the open doorway. "Very well," she said suddenly, bowing her head. "We will come."

The spokesman's pale eyes blinked rapidly in relief as he moved aside.

Outside once more, Allura stood erect, glaring at the huge Galra who lounged against a building, his elbow resting on the roof of the diminuitive people's council hall. He smiled nastily, revealing long fangs.

"Well, if it isn't the princess Allura and her faithful watchdog. Where are your other subjects?"

"Where are yours, Galran?" she retorted. "If you plan to capture me, you'll need help."

"You have spirit, if nothing else," he mused.

Coran had, it seemed, had enough. "We have Voltron, and that's worth more than you'll ever have!"

"Voltron does not concern me," he replied smoothly. "But perhaps, as your new owner, I should introduce myself. My name is Tolvik."

Allura's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. "Tolvik. So it was you who escaped from the base."

He smiled more widely. "And from your paladins." He raised a hand, and dozens of droids stepped out from the doorways and alleys surrounding the town square. Coran clenched his fists.

"You won't get away with this!" cried Allura, but her mind was racing. What did Tolvik mean when he said he didn't fear Voltron? Had he already destroyed the Castle of Lions?

A droid clanked up behind her, and she gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and moved. A swift step back put her alongside the droid, and her left elbow hooked over its gun, jerking it down. Ducking beneath its arms, she freed the gun and kicked off the droid, knocking it down.
Coran had drawn his handgun and was aiming it at droid after droid even as Allura leapt onto the roof, her own gun pointed directly at Tolvik's head.

"Surrender, Galran."

Tolvik smiled.

Don't worry, we're back to the paladins in the next chapter. Again, if there's anything particular people wish to see in this story, drop me a note and I'll try to work it in. ;) And I won't say 'no' to reviews . . .