Chapter 6
In which Lance and Allura discover one of the castle's secrets, Mavalok talks tough, and Keith suffers from imposter's syndrome.
"Lotor?" asked Lance. Was this someone he was supposed to know? Probably. Lance would be the first to admit that he zoned out when exposition got too technobabbly.
Allura said nothing. She slipped out of the dumbwaiter and made her way towards the painted board. The corridor was small and she had to bend down to fit. Her fingers traced the blue symbol and then she pulled the plank away, revealing a medium-sized room beyond.
Or more like a space between rooms with a high ceiling, so they could stand up properly, thought Lance as he followed her through. The walls were reinforced with beams and rivets and the floor curved upward, perhaps following the roof of the hangar below.
It was illuminated by more light strings, some of them multicolored. Power cords were spliced directly into an electrical conduit in a less-than-fire-marshal approved manner. But, looking at the room's furnishings, Lance doubted that a fire marshal, or any adult, had ever made it down here.
The place was a cardboard cargo cult version of the castle. In the center were the two navigation pedestals painted gray and reaching only to Lance's knees. There was collection of blue bottles arranged like a Balmera crystal and what looked like several of the castle's dessert plates hung on one wall. Underneath the "scaultrite" was a box with costumes spilling out, including one that looked like a weblum. Along the wall opposite was a rope leading to a large cardboard box with a cutout for a chair. It was painted red and was a good approximation of the scooters they used to taxi to their lions. In a back corner was a pile of cushions and blankets. Lance's inner 7-year-old wanted to move in.
Lance took a step closer to the "navigation system" and bumped his head on something metal. Above him was a cube suspended from a string. It made an activation sound and projected a hologram of a small kid that, had he been human, Lance would assume was about 10.
He had short, spiky, silver hair and pointed ears, but his blue corneas were set against yellow sclera and his skin was clearly purple. Lance could guess the kid's parentage.
The projection of the boy stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground and his arm crossed in front of him in a defiant manner. He was dressed in a space suit similar to Allura's with a narrow sword at his waist.
"Halt," the hologram kid commanded, "only those seeking justice may enter the battleship of Prince Lotor." He flourished the sword in a threating way which was spoiled as he reached out to push what Lance presumed was the stop button on the recording device he was using. Yeah, definitely a 10-year-old.
The video flickered and then restarted at the beginning. "Halt, only those seeking justice may enter the battleship of Prince -" Allura waved a hand over the projecting cube, and the image froze.
"Prince?" asked Lance.
Allura took a deep breath. "Lotor was, is Zarkon's son."
She stepped through the hologram to the center of the room, leaving footprints in the heavy dust. Apparently, the castle's cleaning bots didn't know about this place either.
"He's still alive?" asked Lance, "how do you know?" Were Galra just that long lived? It would be just one more injustice if Keith kept his boyish good looks when Lance was hitting middle age.
"Because it was his ship that attacked the Red Lion," she indicated another blue star, this one pained on the wall over the blankets. "I'd been hoping I was wrong about the ship's symbol, but it matches."
"Okay," Lance turned this over in his mind, "but it wouldn't have to be Lotor, it could be one of his descendants, sort of a family crest thing?"
He crossed the room to get a better look at the symbol. The blankets formed more of a nest here, with some books, a few ration bars and three lion plushies – Blue, Yellow and Green.
"No, it's Lotor," said Allura, "the Blade of Marmora have confirmed he's alive. Kolivan told me."
"Oh," said Lance.
He pushed aside the blankets to find the missing lions and found three photographs plastered to the wall. The largest was an awesome group shot of the Paladins. Coran was right about his cousin, the guy was eye candy. Zarkon, on the other hand, looked as scary and emotionless as ever. A smaller image was an action shot of a red-armored King Alfor slicing through sparring bots. The last image was of a teenage Altean in a sundress, a bouquet of neon pink flowers obscuring most of her face. Lance did a double take – this was a young Allura. He was tempted to snatch it, but that would be kind of stalky-creepy.
"So," there was no way for Lance to phrase this tactfully, "is he evil?"
He stood up to look at Allura, and saw fire in her eyes. "Of course he's evil, he's Gal-" she stopped herself and said more quietly, but with no less determination, "he's Zarkon's son. We can't trust him."
"You're probably right, now at least." admitted Lance, "but as a kid?" he waved a hand towards the silent, sword-swinging hologram.
"He was a few years younger than me when I arrived at the castle, maybe 11."
"And?"
"Honestly," Allura was scanning the castle club house derisively, "I found him to be a bit of a spoiled brat, to me at least. He worshipped my father and frankly, I don't think he liked the idea that I was the Red Paladin's daughter."
Lance stole a glance at the makeshift bed and guessed the feelings were a bit more complicated. His own tween experiences had convinced him that teenage girls inhabited a different reality and he could only image what a stir Allura had caused with her arrival at the castle. Especially if the pint-sized Lotor had been anything like Nico, aka Terrorsaurus. With fighting wars and all, Lance doubted the little kid got much oversight. A thought popped into his head.
"But, he's got an Altean mother, right?" Allura's expression didn't change, "was she … the Yellow Paladin?"
Allura gasped, "how did you know?"
"I figured the only way the Paladins would have allowed a child to run around on a battleship would be if both of his parents were living at the castle. And if Zarkon were going to get together with a non-Galra, she'd have to be pretty impressive."
"Lance," said Allura, "that's a remarkable deduction. I hadn't realized you were so clever."
"One of my many hidden talents," Lance managed not to add, you should see what I can do with my tongue and a cherry stem, darn it was hard not to flirt. "Coran speaks pretty highly of Lithelia, maybe Lotor's not quite the evil incarnate that you're fearing."
"We can't afford to take that risk. My father and the Paladins made a grave mistake in following Zarkon. He used them, used Voltron, to advance his agenda so that when he openly betrayed them there was no way to fight back. Their mistake has brought such misery and pain to the universe." As she spoke, Allura's usual inspiring confidence gave way to something more melancholy until her voice was just above a whisper. "We can't allow ourselves to fall into that trap again."
"Woah, woah, woah," cried Lance, walking over to her, "stop beating yourself up. Zarkon's the bad guy here. He's the one who manipulated and tricked you guys. You were just-"
"Idealistic and naïve fools." Allura cut in.
Lance shook his head, "Good people." He finished his thought. "Good people who wanted to help others and make the universe a safe place."
Allura sighed and didn't meet his eyes.
"So he conned you, preyed on your goodwill and betrayed you," Lance tried again, "that hurts. But don't be ashamed or blame the Paladins, or your father, or yourself, for believing the best in people. That's a strength that Zarkon never had, that can keep you going in the face of really scary opponents. It's what's going to defeat him in the end. Got it?"
It was a really great pep talk, if he did say so himself. Allura's frown had turned into a seriously cute smile and her ears did that dipping down wiggling thing that made his heart do cartwheels. If that wasn't enough to overload his brain, she reached out and embraced him.
"Thank you, Lance." She said into his ear, "You're right. Trusting in others, building alliances, that's how we'll win against the Galra Empire."
"Yeah, now you're talking," said Lance, breathing in Allura's shampoo or whatever it was that gave off the heady floral smell.
Allura pulled back, her eyes all sparkly.
"It was trusting the Blade that gave us the resources to defeat Zarkon in battle." Lance nodded in agreement, "And when Keith told us he was part Galra, my instinct was still to trust him. I'm glad I realized that." Lance stopped nodding in agreement.
"And," she continued, "when the five of you showed up in the castle, strange aliens with funny ears, we did the right thing, entrusting the lions to you."
"You've got a lion of your own right now," said Lance, "trust yourself."
"Yes," said Allura. And then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
Allura.
Kissed.
Lance slapped his hand over the spot. Like the kiss would fly away or something. He didn't know. His brain wasn't quite working.
Allura gave him a confused, concerned look. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I get that Earth custom wrong?"
"Custom?" Lance croaked. Could she have been aiming for his lips? Unlikely. But, maybe?
"Like in Pride & Prejudice." Allura explained and Lance's expectations took a nose dive. They didn't even hold hands until the wedding. "In the performance Pidge showed me, the girls often kissed their female friends in that manner. Pidge said that current Earth societies aren't so gender segregated, so I assumed that it was a reasonable act between close friends, like we are."
"Oh, it's alright. Totally alright." Lance stopped her there before she could downgrade the moment any more. "But it can be a bit of a surprise, so be careful how you employ it. Definitely not on anyone with quick reflexes."
"All right then," said Allura, back in professional princess mode. "Let's go inform Coran about the Paladin meeting room we discovered."
She turned away and waved a hand to dismiss the Lotor projection. Lance caught the swinging cube and placed it in his pocket. Allura was holding the plank open for him and he followed her to the dumbwaiter. This time he let Allura get in by herself. He dropped to his knees to push the shelf up.
"What's with that face?" Allura asked him, "you look rather unfocused."
"Marry me," it just slipped out. Lance felt his face go red.
Allura just laughed. She reached up for the ledge above and pulled the dumbwaiter up. Okay, thought Lance, he could work with that.
Whatever technology Voltron and the Blade of Marmora has used to vanish Zarkon's battle fortress had obviously come from the Olkavi. To protect the not-so-secret race from Galra retaliation, the Blade had forgone their usual stealth routine and were operating out in the open from an accessible space station orbiting Olkarion while they constructed a planetary defense system.
Once it was up and running it would bend gravity or fold the solar system into a pocket universe or something mathy. He had the technology speculation section in the information packet Emaksolam had given his for this mission. In Mavalok's opinion, the best defense was a quick and lethal offense. And regardless of how nerdly awesome the final safeguard would be, its current incomplete state meant both the Olkavi and Blade were vulnerable, hence the large number of Blade patrols of armed-to-the-teeth fighters.
None of which would have hampered Mavalok if he'd wanted to sneak in. The Galra empire had mined out most of Olkarion's natural resources so he could have stowed away on an inbound cargo transport ship, or bribed one of his group's contacts to rotate him in with the next set of Blade reinforcements.
But this was an official, political mission, and Mavalok was going to be diplomatic.
"Hey," he shouted into the intercom, "I'm here to talk to whoever's in charge. I've got 12 canisters of high grade Quintessence fuel flanging into an unstable Balmera crystal. If I so much as see an ion cannon swivel in my direction I'm flipping a switch that will convert me, my ship, and a good portion of your pathetic excuse for space station into background radiation. Your call."
Emaksolam had positioned the wormhole to open just in front of the Blade's station, so that Mavalok's shuttle had almost collided with it when it appeared out of the blue circle. Any scan of his ship would verify Mavalok's explosive device threat. He planned to offer the Quintessence as part of the negotiations, making it both a deterrent and incentive.
"You think this place isn't armored enough to handle your puny bomb?" the Galra on the comlink responded, "Identify yourself and give us a good reason not to blow you to bits and enjoy the fireworks."
The Galra was bluffing. They obviously didn't know what to make of the blue wormhole or Mavalok's obviously Galra ship which bore no empire or Blade markings. Mavalok smiled, partly because plans were so much fun when they worked out and partly because, after three years of scampering around the universe and contorting his natural responses to adhere to ridiculous alien customs and protocols, it felt good to deal with someone who knew how to communicate.
"I am Mavalok. I represent Commander Emaksolam, who could eat your hide-in-the-shadows lot for breakfast. He's noticed your recent endeavors against the Empire and in the off chance that you've actually grown a pair, would like to parlay."
By this point, the Blade's armed fighter ships had formed an arc behind him. The com link went quiet and while Mavalok waited for them to make up their minds, he amused himself by firing up random micro-thrusters. With each of his ship's small, sudden movement the fighters would flinch. After a few dobashes, the com came back on.
"Commander Kolivan will consider your offer. Follow the lead fighter to our airlock. Any deviation from the flight path we've sent you and we blow you into cosmic stardust."
At the station, they tied up his hands, of course, but only relieved him of his two visible weapons. Perhaps they were bored and looking for a bit of a scuffle. Oh well, business before pleasure.
Mavalok had never met Kolivan and he had to admit, the Galra was… impressive. Not quite as broad or as tall as Emaksolam, but he had a fantastic frown and his eyes conveyed perfectly how unimpressed he was with Mavalok, his fellow Galra, the Olkarion solar system, and the universe in general.
"Well?" he said.
"Commander Emaksolam proposes a face to face meeting to share intelligence and to coordinate attacks on high value Empire targets." That was the message, word for word. Now, whatever else went down, Mavalok could honestly say he tried the official plan first.
"My sources say Emaksolam has a single battleship with a skeleton crew," said Kolivan, "I'm at a loss to see how an alliance would benefit us." The other Blade crew members heard their leader's pronouncement and Mavalok could feel their already low regard for him plummeting.
"Emaksolam has been raiding and sabotaging the Galra Empire for over a decade," Mavalok countered, keeping his tone even. "He knows where to hit them and how to get away. Given how the Blade spends so many of their resources gathering and analyzing intelligence, you know how much of an asset Commander Emaksolam's cooperation would be." That got a bit of color to show on Kolivan's cheeks. Clearly, this conversation was going to be far from boring. Good.
"Emaksolam and I were pack mates going back to our first days of training," Kolivan said tersely, "I know the man, his strengths and his weaknesses. I'll grant you that he's an amazing strategist, as brave or foolhardy as our greatest warriors, and he has a decisive quality I've seen in few other Galra. But his values," he spat this word out, "and his obsession with the Galraina, break with our nature and biology to the point of being a perversion."
"You know nothing of the lives of the Galraina," oh, this was so on. "How they, more than any male Galra, suffer under Zarkon's edicts and control: corralled on the Alonial Ring, forbidden to leave or choose their own mates, treated as much as slaves as any prisoners trapped in one of the Emperor's work camps."
"I know it is our duty as the Galrainas' sons to protect our mothers, aunts and sisters. And one that I will continue to abide by for as long as I draw breath," Kolivan could really pull off a sneer, "I have heard Emaksolam's version of freedom and I wonder how many of the Galraina would take his offer."
"At least he would make them the offer!" Mavalok had to hold himself back, the man's disrespect towards Emaksolam was bad enough, but his sense of entitlement and ignorance made his blood boil.
Kolivan sighed, signaling he was done with this conversation. "What specifically does Emaksolam have to offer us?"
"Oh, I don't know," Mavalok wasn't as good at dialing back his emotions, "wormhole technology, a supply of Quinescence, and an established spy network in the Alonial Ring system to monitor Lotor's new headquarters there." Kolivan's eyes widened. So, his contacts hadn't informed him Lotor's relocation, good to note. "I think you should be asking us what we want in exchange?"
"Clearly, you want to an introduction with Princess Allura and the Paladins of Voltron. The Princess has certain hard-earned prejudices against the Galra Empire and is not inclined to partner with someone of Emaksolam's reckless reputation."
Mavalok would like nothing so better to inform the Blade commander of his own experience fighting alongside the Blue Paladin, but Kolivan was correct, Emaksolam wanted Mavalok to prove their group's worthiness through action. Showing up with an ancient Altean battleship manned by Galra might not make the best first impression.
Mavalok just needed an opportunity to help the Paladins out, preferably one that involved explosions. And the Blade's operation here was a calling card for the Empire to show up, guns blazing. But to hang out here he needed to convince Kolivan that that Emaksolam actually thought the Blade was a worthy partner.
"Neither you nor Voltron have the luxury of disregarding useful allies. The Blade is stretched thin with this new active role and you can't risk pulling out your deep operatives. The Castle of Lions' personnel are even fewer. The universe is filled with individuals willing to go against the Empire. Some have good hearts; a lot will gladly stab you in the back. You need Emoksolam's contacts and info to know who to trust."
"And you need Voltron and the Blade to get Lotor out of the Alonial Ring and away from the Galraina colony."
"We need the Galra Empire out of the Alonial Ring so the Galraina can be free, so they can make their own choices," Mavalok corrected him. And the Galraina had made their decision several generations ago, but Mavalok couldn't let that slip or the game would be up.
"And if they don't choose Emaksolam's version of freedom? If they choose dignity and tradition and allegiance to the natural order, will Emaksolam agree to that? What if they don't want to become Emaksolam's harem?"
And that was Mavalok's limit. He'd taken as much of this misogynistic pile of Corvarien effluence as he could. He grabbed his sharpest hidden knife, cut through his restraints and was halfway across the room before Kolivan's second-in-command intercepted him. Mavalok went low and slammed into the soldier's back leg resulting in a satisfying face plant as Mavalok unbalanced him.
But the move cost him critical time. Kolivan's hand was around Mavalok's neck, lifting him off the ground. Mavalok thrashed and flailed to no avail, his knife was too short and Kolivan's arms too long. Kolivan threw him against the wall.
Mavalok tasted blood on his lips. So much for the official plan. Mavalok would prefer to go through Lance anyway to get an audience with the Princess and Black Paladin, anyway. There would be the small matter of breaking himself out of whatever cell Kolivan threw him in. He'd gotten out of a weblum's intestines before, he could get out anywhere.
As Mavalok devised the next step and the guards rounded on him, everything was interrupted by the sound of an alarm.
Kolivan turned to Mavalok with daggers in his eyes. "More of you?"
"If it's not coming through a wormhole, it's not us!"
Before Kolivan could say more, a cultured, accented voice cut through on the intercom:
"Traitors to the Emperor, we're here to destroy you."
Allura found Keith, unsurprisingly, in the training room. He was battling two sparring bots with his black bayard. The form it took for him was similar to his red bayard's broad sword, but with a slight curve which reminded Allura of Kolivan's Blade weapon.
She watched him dispatch one of the fighting robots and quickly swivel to block the second one's attack. His black short-sleeve shirt clung to his body highlighting its increasingly muscular frame. He was, what was that thing Pidge said about Mr. Darcy? Oh yes, easy on the eyes.
Keith had been a strong fighter when he'd arrived, but his commitment to training had honed his skills to Shiro's level, or even that of her father. Their styles differed, Keith didn't have Shiro's obvious strength or her father's stylish flair. Rather, the new Black Paladin fought like an extension of his weapon - swift, precise, and deadly. Keith dove, rolled, and as he sprung up, neatly beheaded the robot.
Keith remained still until the simulation dissolved. Then his bayard transformed and his body relaxed. "Hello Princess," he said as he turned to her.
His face was unusually animated from the workout; flushed cheeks and dilated eyes.
"Your combat skills continue to improve, Black Paladin." She wasn't sure if it was the compliment, or the reference to his new position, but Keith stiffened and his lips fell to their usual straight line.
"Thank you, Prince- Red Paladin. How did it go, with the other Paladins?"
"It was," Allura searched for the words, "a truly wonderful experience. I feel like I know more about them and Earth culture. I hope they enjoyed their time with me."
"I'm sure they did," a faint smile might have passed his lips, but Allura couldn't be certain. She waited for him to speak but he remained silent.
"Well," she said finally, "what do you have planned for us? Combat practice?"
"What?" Keith looked uncertain, "you mean a bonding experience? I didn't think we needed one." Now it was Allura's time to give him an uncertain look and Keith stammered, "I mean, I saw you pilot the Red Lion, saw you take down those Galra fighters. I know you're part of this team. And, honestly, I think the other Paladins have accepted you."
"But Nannee's vision?" Pressed Allura, "you agreed with her assessment…"
Keith shrugged, "We were all getting frustrated that Voltron wasn't forming. We needed to take a break and a few hours of one-on-one bonding didn't seem the worst idea. Certainly better than whatever crazy Paladin team exercise that Coran going to throw at us."
It was a surprisingly astute strategy and Allura was trying to think of a way to compliment Keith's reasoning without making him uncomfortable, when he added: "If there's anyone the team's uncertain about, it's probably me."
He was avoiding her gaze so Allura had to step closer. If he was doubting his worthiness to lead the team then that could explain their formation issues.
"Keith," she said, "you are our leader. The Black Lion has accepted you."
"She accepted Zarkon, too," he countered.
"You're nothing like Zarkon."
"I'm nothing like Shiro, either."
"Keith-"
"No! hear me out. I've known Shiro since I was 12. I've watch him do this thing where he pulls people together, makes them into a team with a common purpose. It didn't matter if it was a bunch of kids in a martial arts program, cadets competing in a military exercise, or the time he got the Garrison to hold a bake sale fundraiser." Allura filed away the words bake sale for later inquiry. "He understands people and I, I just don't. I never have. I, I just have instincts." He clenched his fists.
"I think you should trust your instincts."
"My instincts," there was a fire in Keith's eyes, "are to get into my lion and keep flying until I find Shiro!" And I would follow you, thought Allura, the force of her conviction surprising her.
Then, as often happened, the anger dropped away from Keith. The energy deflated and he just stood there with a resigned look on his face.
This wouldn't do, for either Keith or Voltron. She needed to say the right thing, which was … The second secret weapon of Altean Diplomacy, at least according to Coran, was the strategic use of anecdotes.
Allura took a breath and began, "When Zarkon's treachery was discovered, the other Paladins wanted my father to take on the mantle of the Black Paladin and lead the team. He couldn't, something inside him broke and he didn't have the strength. But you Keith, you never stop. You've never run away from a conflict. And your strength gives the rest of us the courage to follow you into battle."
Keith didn't say anything, but he did meet her eyes.
"When the team attacked Galra headquarters and Zarkon tried to steal the Black Lion, you and Red attacked Zarkon. Coran said there was no hesitation on your part."
"I lost," Keith reminded her. Allura shook her head gently.
"You kept Zarkon from getting the Black Lion, you distracted him so that Hunk could rescue me." She was getting through to him, but there was still a hesitancy.
"Allura, when you were captured, everyone wanted to go after you, except… me," Keith took a deep breath, "I argued against rescuing you, said that we weren't ready and that preserving Voltron was more important than any one person."
"You were right."
"I was wrong," Keith placed his hands on her shoulders, "I would never say that now."
She should correct him. Clearly the fate of one person wasn't worth jeopardizing their greater mission. But her heart was pounding hard and she couldn't speak. His face was so close, she could see the purple glint to his eyes.
"I promise, Allura, no matter what, I will always protect you," he spoke the words softly, but with conviction, "You're important to me."
A response was forming in her mind, something to match his heartfelt pronouncement. But before she could figure out what it was, the alarm system sounded, and Hunk's voice announced: "Guys, we just got a distress signal. Kolivan says that he and the Olkari are under attack."
Authors notes:
- The first Secret Weapon of Altean Diplomacy was alcohol, or biologically appropriate mood alternating social lubricants, the third was cleavage.
- The flier for the fundraiser read "We're holding a Military Charity Bake sale, absolutely no profits will go to buying bombers."
- And as of this chapter, the love triangle is on. I realize that Allura clearly kissed Lance into the friend's zone, but the Blue Paladin is a resourceful fellow with a clear goal so don't count him out yet. Thanks for reading, next up, lots of action.