Author's Note: I hate the Space Mice. Seriously. Is that bad? Well, if it is, then I've committed a mortal sin in the Voltron Universe—I like to ignore that they exist (for the most part, anyway).
To Kava: Your alternate title struck me so funny. I laughed so hard that I almost crapped MY pants.
To Emie Mac: David has a habit of growing on you, doesn't he? Now, we all know where his love life is heading, but we still have the issue of his ex-girlfriend to deal with before we get there.
To sunshineleo: Hooray! It's good to hear from you. Thank goodness it's summer vacation! Now, is it Columbus Day Weekend yet?
To Susan: I really, REALLY need to get that short story written so you can see exactly what goes down between Kelly & Modoch. It's kinda epic.
To WarzonePrez: The future GV Force isn't exactly acting like the GV Force, eh? No wonder Aidan was turned down as captain of Vehicle Voltron!
Title Song: "Born to Rise" by Redlight King
"Nice work, Cadet Neumann!"
Kelly was getting used to her new position as a teaching assistant at the Space Academy. Specifically, she had applied for—and gotten—the job with the DFNS101 students. The first-years were eager to handle their weapons, but they had to start off with the basics.
The department head who'd been at the helm of Defense for nearly forty years, Instructor Harrison, still enjoyed teaching the brand-new students at the beginning of each school year. He'd paired the cadets up and left for his office, placing Kelly in charge of the sparring exercises. She didn't mind. She was good at that kind of stuff; she and Cliff had been partners for karate as well as dancing.
Yeah, just wait 'til these kids get to second year and have to learn how to tango. She rolled her eyes as she thought about how she'd learned how to master several dance routines on account of her Garrison education. Why does anyone have to learn any of those stupid dances? On the off chance that maybe, when you're a hundred years old and at some sort of War Games gala, you won't make a fool out of yourself on the dance floor?
On the bright side, she had met her boyfriend, Modoch, taking one of those dance courses. She supposed she should at least be grateful for something about the school curriculum.
The crash caught her attention. One of the first-years, a cadet by the name of Jared Milton, had accidentally fired his pistol.
Yeah, accidentally on purpose. He kinda reminds me of Lance. "Cadet Milton! What are you doing over there?"
Sheepishly, the student dropped his pistol and saluted. "Sorry, Sargeant Asimov."
"You should be. You could have seriously hurt yourself. Or someone else." With the rest of the class watching, Kelly walked over to the cadet and retrieved his pistol from the floor. She blew on it before handing it back to him. "I'd send you to the remedial class if this wasn't the remedial class. Be more careful."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Ma'am. I'm old enough to be a ma'am now. She didn't bother to respond as she walked back to her spot by the sidelines, trying not to feel washed-up and forgotten.
The Doom troops were doing a thorough job of razing whatever was left of the Arusian soil. Pidge watched helplessly as the ground was torn up. Anything that was left—greenery, shrubbery, even dirt—was reduced to nothing but flames.
They want us so bad that they're willing to waste good ammunition just to burn this planet down. The little Baltan shivered at such a sobering, chilling thought. But it was true. King Zarkon would spare nothing—and no one—to ensure that he recaptured the five space explorers who had humiliated him.
He had to get back to the was no other choice. No one was picking up in the control room, and he needed to report his findings so that the princess could be prepared. Not that there was much to defend, but he knew that Allura would prefer to go down fighting rather than cowering.
Question was, how to get back to the castle unnoticed?
He didn't have time to think. The blast came precariously close to his stony perch, crumbling the rocks and sending him tumbling to the ground.
Jeff raced towards the bridge, panicked. Everyone had heard Commander Hawkins call his name over the Explorer's general comm. Everyone. He was either being praised for his leadership skills at practice, or he was going to be reprimanded beyond the depths of his comprehension.
Somehow, he had a bad feeling that it wasn't the first option.
The doors slid open, and Jeff scurried onto the bridge. Commander Hawkins and Captain Newley stood at the helm, looking over their interstellar map and plotting a course as to where to go next. The commander looked up. "Ah. Captain Aki. You've made it."
Jeff saluted hastily. "Commander Hawkins. You wanted to see me, Sir?"
Newley shook his head. "Oh boy, this ought to be good."
"Yes, actually, I did." The commander ignored the Explorer's captain and stood up from his post at the helm of the ship. "Perhaps we should speak in private. Follow me."
Captain Newley shot them both an obvious dirty look, mostly because he was keen to hear exactly what was about to go down and was now out of the loop, but he held his tongue and, to his credit, did not follow them off the bridge.
Jeff trailed behind the commander, just steps down the hallway and to the first room on the right. Hawkins keyed in the passcode and the door slid open. "This way, Captain. After you."
The private chambers took his breath away. The mahogany wooden cabinetry, the lush leather chairs...the room looked like a proper eighteenth-century study. "Wow, Sir. Whose quarters are these?"
The commander slid the door shut behind them before taking his seat behind the large polished-wood desk. "Mine."
Duh. "This place is spectacular, Sir."
"Thank you." Hawkins motioned for him to sit down, and Jeff claimed one of the opulent leather chairs as his own. "Now, I presume you're wondering why I called you in here. I know Rich Newley is."
Jeff nodded.
"As you know, you are the overall captain of Vehicle Voltron as well as the captain of the Air Team," the commander continued. "Just as Captain Newley is my second-in-command, you need to have a second-in command. Preferably, you would choose between Captain Jack and Captain Keats." He raised an eyebrow. "Normally, I would decide which captain would best fit the position, but for some reason, I trust you. You know your own men better than I do."
Silence followed. Jeff couldn't speak. "Wait a moment...you trust me to pick my own second-in-command, Sir?"
Hawkins looked somewhere between aggravated and amused. "Did I stutter?"
Jeff sat dumbfounded for a moment. The commander wanted him to pick his own second. Him! Was he even capable of such a huge decision? And then there was the choice between either Cliff or Crik. It should have been an obvious one—after all, the blond Aussie had lived on the same floor with him for the past five years. They were family.
But the Land Team captain's allegiance had always been to Aidan and, to a lesser extent, Lance. He and Cliff hadn't been the closest of friends and had run around in different circles during their five years at the Academy. How could Jeff automatically choose him over Crik, especially when he'd barely gotten to know the intuitive Miran?
Finally, he replied, "Sir, I'd like some time to think it over."
"Of course." Commander Hawkins nodded, then stood up to signal that their meeting was over. "Let me know once you've reached a decision so I can notify Galaxy Garrison."
"I will."
"Excellent." As the commander escorted Jeff out of his chambers, he added, "And you did very well out there today, Captain Aki. Keep doing what you're doing, and the Voltron Force will only improve."
"Thank you, Sir."
After Hawkins closed up behind him, he laid against the door and rested his head against the cool steel. As far as first weeks in outer space went, this one hadn't been bad at all. But right now, he could really, really use a drink.
Once Alfor's spirit had disappeared and Allura had wiped her tears away, the unlikely group encircled the deceased king's open tomb, dropping to their knees and folding their hands in prayer. Keith, expertly positioning himself to the side of the princess, unwittingly found his own eyes closing in reverence. Please keep us safe. Please provide the keys.
"Hey! Look at the keys!" Hunk's voice interrupted the sacred silence. "Five keys for five lions."
"One for each of us," Lance murmured under his breath, his voice filled with awe.
In normal times, under ordinary conditions, Coran would have been considerably vexed. It would have been outrageous for some commoner to defile their prayer with his voice, regardless of the reason. However, these were not normal times. Thank the gods that Nanny isn't around to bear witness.
"The keys are all here." The advisor breathed a sigh of relief. "But you can't form Voltron. Not with four lions."
"No, not without Pidge," Keith agreed. "But we'll go anyway."
"Right," Sven echoed.
Allura's green eyes widened in shock. "You can't possibly be serious. You've never taken the Lions out before. You've never even seen them before. And without Pidge, you won't be able to form Voltron." She shuddered. "Do you still want to go?"
"Sooner rather than later," Keith replied firmly.
The princess and her advisor exchanged glances. Were these boys serious? Yes, yes they were. Were they suicidal? Most definitely. But they were determined to get out there and fight for Arus until their last breaths, and as it stood, she was hardly in a position to say no.
"Then go." Spreading her hands over the casket, she gave them her blessing. "But return safely, all of you."
"Thank you, Princess." Keith reached down and picked up the key closest to the embalmed king's head, which he assumed had to be the key to the main lion. "Don't worry, we'll take care of this mess."
Sven, Lance and Hunk each reached for the key closest to them. They had no idea which lion they would get, but they supposed it didn't matter, just so long as they were out in battle.
Allura picked up the last key and wrapped her fingers around it. "I will hold onto this for safekeeping," she informed the team captain, "until either Pidge comes back, or you do."
Keith nodded, then stood up from the casket. "Understood. Now, Coran, if you would be so kind as to lead us back to Castle Control so we can take matters into our own hands..."
The advisor nodded. This was nerve-wracking, but if anything could finally bring the bombings and firings from Doom to an end, it would be Voltron. "Follow me. Quickly."
Allura closed the lid on her father's casket as the space explorers followed Coran out of the catacombs. Then, turning to face her parents in their eternal slumber, she blew them a kiss before following the rest of her new team.
When Pidge's vision came back to normal, he was surprised to see that he was surrounded by a swarm of villagers. Men, women, and children had all come to observe him. The small systems analyst was only surprised for about a half second. After all, to them, he was the alien.
"Um...hello?" he asked. His greeting was met with silence, so he continued. "Okay, I know I'm the new guy around here. But what's the new guy gotta do to get back to the castle?"
A tall man, seemingly the leader of the group, looked over his shoulder at someone else. The older man with the greying hair and the beard simply nodded and turned his gaze back to Pidge. Wordlessly, the tall man motioned for the systems analyst to follow him.
Geez, they're not so friendly or talkative around these parts. Not that he cared, of course. Anything was better than being shot at by Doom's ground troops. And he had to get back to the castle. The princess and Coran needed the information.
And for some reason, he knew that his team needed him.
There was always so much work to do for the High Command, and admittedly, much of it was nonsense. She was sure that Space Marshall Graham knew that, but he wasn't about to say anything. Not when the council disagreed with at least half of everything he said. Things were tough enough without stirring up discord.
In her messenger bag—the same messenger bag she'd carried throughout her five years at the Space Academy—Lieutenant Stensson carted multiple discs and files. Though she was the last one hired by the Space Marshall, she spent more time with him than anyone else, running personal errands for him as well as performing hours and hours of discussion and prep work. Slowly, she was beginning to understand Galaxy Garrison as a whole, as an entity, and not just as different branches of the same system.
She wasn't sure if Graham had done that on purpose, but he had, and he continued to do so. But she was sure that she knew more about the inner workings of the Garrison—and, by default, of the Galaxy Alliance—than most of her colleagues and superiors.
With a secret knock on the door, she was buzzed into his office. So many secret knocks and handshakes. The floor, the Analysis department, Graham's office…
"Come in."
She opened the door and slid into the office. "Space Marshall," she greeted him with a salute. "I have the latest report from the S.S. Rand."
"Oh?" He appeared mildly interested.
Her brows knitted together, and she frowned. "We've received a transmission from the ship's black boxes, Sir. The Rand was taken captive at approximately 0200 hours Galactic Standard Time."
Graham's face fell. "Thibeault and his entire crew?"
"Unfortunately." Reaching into her messenger bag, the lieutenant retrieved the disc upon which she had transcribed the fallen ship's black boxes. "You can read more here. We know the Rand was captured by a Drule slave ship, but we have no idea which planet is responsible."
The Space Marshall rubbed his eyes. "They never stop, do they? Those Drules won't be satisfied until they've captured every last one of us and taken charge of the universe."
"It certainly seems that way, Sir." She shivered.
He leaned back in his chair. Graham hated this part; having to gather the names of the abducted crew members and alert their next of kin. It was dirty work which, unsurprisingly, elicited anger, sadness, frustration, and other unpleasant emotions. Most often directed at him. "This is the worst part of my job."
She nodded. "I understand."
He expected her to salute and escort herself out, but instead, she stood in front of his desk, watching him. Any other of his staff would have left by now, leaving him to tackle the emotionally devastating task himself. Yet she stayed with him, waiting for his next movement, learning from the situation and drinking it in. It reminded him of why he had chosen her for this position in the first place.
"Lieutenant Stensson?"
"Yes, Sir?"
He cleared his throat. "You're about to write your first POW letter to the Rand's next-of-kin. Watch and learn."
Yurak sat at the helm of the bridge on his command ship, overseeing the ground forces in their destruction of that wretched planet. It felt...good.
The commander had always been at the top of his field, the top of his game. It was why he had lasted so long under Zarkon's reign. Korrinoth's king had seen what he was capable of and had not only rewarded him for it, but had placed his trust in him. That trust was worth more than any amount of money, any gold, any woman...anything, really.
"Sir," his first mate shot out, "we have incoming."
"Oh?" Yurak raised his head. "Bring it up."
The first mate brought an image up to the screen. At first, there was nothing more to see than a tremendous dust cloud. Before the commander could open his mouth to elicit a sarcastic comment, eight searing yellow lights pierced through the shadows.
Yurak banged his fists on the console in front of him. "And what in the name of Ba'al is this?"
Whatever it was, it looked like a pack of lions. Robot lions. Voltron's lions. He felt a sense of...something...rise up in him. Something he had never felt before in his entire career.
Fear.
This is insane.
From behind the controls of Black Lion, Keith—dressed in his new black-and-grey uniform—charged at the head of the pack towards the Doom slave ship. With the Red, Blue, and Yellow Lions behind him, he was sure that the four ancient mechanical feline ships could take down whoever was in charge of this assault. "Team! Are you all ready for this?"
"As ready as we can be, min venn," Sven replied from Blue Lion.
"Er...maybe?" Hunk answered sheepishly from Yellow Lion.
"Woot woot! I was born for this!" Lance, at the helm of Red Lion, was more enthusiastic than all of them. Unsurprisingly.
"Good." Keith didn't feel at all like he was ready—like any of them were ready—for what laid ahead, but he didn't want his friends to know how nervous and worried he was. He wanted to portray the confident leader that he knew he should be and that they deserved. If they were going to go out like this together, if it was the last thing they ever did before they met their demise, then he at least wanted them to believe that he had faith and conviction in his role and in himself. "I have a plan."
"Well, that's good news," Sven chirped sarcastically. "Do you plan on telling us what it is, or would you prefer to keep us in the dark?"
"Nah. I always preferred the idea of shoot first and ask questions later," Lance quipped.
"And is anyone here surprised that Lance got called to Graham's office more often than all of us put together?" Hunk joked to hide his terror.
"Enough." The team captain gripped his controls hard enough to make his knuckles blanch. "Pidge is the systems analyst of this group, but he's not here. Hunk, do you know enough analysis to find out where the main power supply of the command ship is?"
"I might know a thing or two about analysis," the large engineer responded.
"Excellent. Find the command ship's power supply, and the three of us will cover you. Then we'll take it out. Without their leader, the rest of the forces will either retreat or crumble." I hope.
"Well, that's a half-baked plan if I've ever heard one," Lance cracked.
"And if you have a better one, McClain," Sven snarled, "we're all dying to hear it."
Silence. The only sounds heard in any of their cabins were those of ammunition being fired. "Then we'll do what we have to do," Keith decided. "Let's go, team!"
As Hunk fired up his computer—Amazing how this thing works, like it knows me—his three teammates began an assault of ammunition against their enemy. No one was quite sure how, since they had only stepped foot in their lions mere moments ago, but their weaponry seemed to be in touch with their thoughts. Which, in a case as dire as this, was a very good thing.
Prince Avok should have felt guilty every time he retired to his chambers for the evening, as he needed to pass by Romelle's room to get to his own. Especially since he knew his sister's fate and kept his mouth shut.
Should have, but never did.
Little did his sister know, their father had effectively torn her engagement to Tristan of Planet Elnor apart. "I never liked the boy anyway," Cova had scoffed as he made the decision. "He was too soft to be the heir to the throne. Romelle will be better served—and will serve Pollux better—by pledging herself to someone else. Someone stronger, someone more powerful."
She still thinks she's going to marry that poor excuse for a prince, he thought to himself, smirking at the idea. Gods, his sister was stupid. There was no way that he and his father would let her run off to pursue her romantic little faerie tale now; she was too precious a commodity to waste on a planet that wouldn't be able to help them achieve their goals.
King Cova wanted dominance over Arus, but Avok wanted something more. The older prince of Pollux wished to take over the entire Far Universe. The plan started simply enough, as he and his father had hashed out. First, they would join forces with King Zarkon of Korrinoth by betrothing Romelle to the royal heir, Prince Lotor. They would use their new allies to take control of their twin planet, which wouldn't be so hard to do, seeing as how the world had already been razed. His father was content to stop there.
But not Avok.
Once we've taken control of Arus, I'll kill Father for the throne of Pollux. Romelle will be married off to Lotor, and I'll marry Bandor off to that filthy whore of a gutter-trash princess from Demos. He smiled. Or perhaps I'll marry her. In any case, with Doom and Demos on our side, we can begin to conquer the galaxy, one planet at a time. And then, once we have taken over the entire universe, I'll slaughter Lotor, Zarkon, and Cardinal Sen as well. I'll be the supreme ruler of the entire galaxy.
"Well. You seem pleased with yourself."
Avok paused mid-thought, bristling at the tone of her voice. "You should be getting ready for bed, Amue," he hissed, turning to face his sister. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."
Romelle stood in the hallway outside of her door. Clad in a long teal-blue nightdress and gold slippers, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Your job,"she reminded him menacingly, "is to figure out why Father has cut off all communications with Elnor. I haven't spoken to my fiancé in quite some time, and I would like to know what is going on."
Her fiancé. The little chit doesn't realize that she doesn't have a fiancé anymore. Stupid girl. "My job is to come up with a plan to elevate Pollux to the highest possible status." He stared her down coldly. "By whatever means possible. We were born to rise."
A cold, nameless fear swept down Romelle's spine. She knew her brother better than she cared to; his words were no idle promise, but a sinister threat. Sadly—terrifyingly—she knew that she was merely a pawn in his grand scheme, that they were all pawns to use for Avok's political gain.
And deep down, she began to fear that she might never see her beloved Tristan again.
Pidge couldn't believe that the Arusians hiding in the underground caves had led him to the castle.
Not that he was complaining, or even the least bit ungrateful. In fact, he was so pleased to be home—term used very loosely—that he could have kissed the male leader who showed him the pathway back. Eh, that probably wouldn't be appreciated.
Without words, the silent man pulled on a lever, and a wall creaked upwards. As it lifted, Pidge could see dim lighting, and judging from the shambles and the wrecked-up interior, he knew he was back in the castle. "Thank you," the systems analyst offered, nodding his head towards his guide with gratitude.
He merely grunted in response.
Whatever, it works. Darting off down the darkened halls, Pidge scrambled to retrace his footsteps back to Castle Control. Because of his photographic memory and brilliant analytical mind, he found his way through the great hall and to the wall which they only thought was a wall.
They knew better now, though.
"PIDGE!"
She must have seen him before he saw her. "Princess! I'm here!"
Coran and Allura rushed to meet him in the doorway. The poor Baltan had been through so much already, but he had no time to feel shaken or be coddled. "I need to find the guys and help them. Now."
Allura placed both hands on Pidge's shoulders. "They have already taken the lions," she informed him.
His eyes widened in surprise. "You mean, you found the keys?"
"Yes. I have the last one for you." She reached into a pocket hidden within the recesses of her gown and retrieved the final key. "Take it and join your friends."
Coran extended his cane towards the fourth elevator. "Take that one. You will find the final lion resting there."
It was too much all at once. Feeling his knees buckle, Pidge half-ran, half-stumbled over to the elevator. This was it. Four lions were already out on the battlefield, and the fifth was about to join. Voltron was ready to return.
Once Hunk had established where the command ship's power supply was located, he and his three teammates threw every weapon they had in their collective arsenal at it. Which was interesting, given the fact that every other fighter ship in the Doom fleet was attacking them at the same time.
"They're like flies," Sven groaned between gritted teeth as the paw of his Blue Lion smashed fighter ship. "Annoying and obnoxious. And everywhere."
"Hey now, Viking," Lance interjected, "I recall you saying the same thing about me a time or two during the course of our friendship." He and his Red Lion dodged another fighter ship and fired a few shots at the command ship. They bounced off the reinforced outer hull without making a dent.
"I still feel that way, min venn."
"Cut the chatter." Keith darted off in the direction of the command ship, firing every weapon that Black Lion would allow at the designated spot. He'd had enough of the laughter and the jokes and the fact that his team acted as though they weren't taking the situation seriously enough. Granted, deep down he knew that they were taking matters seriously, that the humor was merely a coping mechanism, but on the surface, it wasn't helping.
"Hey guys, did you miss me?"
"PIDGE!" Four voices cried out in joy over the monitors as Green Lion joined them in combat.
"Little Buddy, you made it!" Hunk greeted him.
"Sure did. And I saw the damage these guys were doing to Arus first-hand." Green Lion head-butted a fighter ship and sent it crashing to the ground, where it exploded upon impact. "So I hope you guys don't mind if we cut the chit-chat and get down to business."
Thank God. One of them gets it. Keith positioned his hands on the controls. "Let's do this, then. It's time for Voltron!"
The five lions darted off, flying upwards into the air in a perfect V formation. Outrunning the fighter jets and the command ship, their team captain found the words.
And then Voltron, resurrected after thousands of years, stood proudly in the midst of the Doom fleet.
Little Wyvern, last of the Wyvern…
Haggar had been in a trance in front of her fiery altar, meditating to her gods as to how to advise Zarkon to proceed with Lotor's engagement. Though she personally was leaning towards Corrall of Demos, she had a feeling that the prince would prefer the pretty young blond from Pollux. The king could easily be persuaded to marry off his son to any of the eligible young women, but he would need a little...encouragement...to make the right decision.
The Defender of the Universe has returned.
The witch sat upright, breaking out of her deep meditative state. Had her goddess Sarga spoken truly? Had Voltron returned? And if so, how was it even possible? Did it have anything to do with those five space explorers?
She would have to find out. Willing herself calm, she doused the flames at the altar and immediately headed to the throne room to speak with Zarkon.
