Author's Note: Happy Halloween (and Happy Thanksgiving, too)! I'm posting this chapter early because I am officially undertaking #NaNoWriMo2017. There will be nothing but original fiction on my agenda for the next 30 days. See you all in December!
To Susan: Yes, you did try to warn me. Maybe I'll listen next time. Wah.
To WarzonePrez: I'm trying to insert a whole lot of Vehicle Voltron. Wait until you see what goes down in a couple more chapters…
To Emie Mac: If you like how Jeff's temper flared now, against Rocky, just wait until he starts to honk off Commander Hawkins...that's all I have to say...
Title Song: "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band
Yurak hated his life at this very moment. He cursed himself, Zarkon, Voltron, those five blasted space explorers, even Ba'al and all his accursed fellow gods as he descended upon the witch's sacred chambers.
Haggar. He had to work with Haggar. He loathed the witch; hated the fact that Zarkon had ordered him to seek aid from her. It's not fair, he moaned in his head, all the while knowing for sure that life never really was, no matter how much he wanted to complain about it.
He continued to vent over the situation to himself, silently fuming and glowering, right up until the moment he landed at the witch's doorstep. And even then, he wasn't quite sure that he'd given up the sour expression on his face.
"Yurak. You have finally arrived." Her tone of voice was smug, so sure of his inevitable failure, that she almost seemed amused. It made him want to smack her across her wrinkly blue face.
"Of course." He attempted to keep his words even. He was fairly certain that he had failed. Miserably.
She glowered at him as he stepped over the threshold of her chambers. He wasn't trespassing, exactly—he'd been ordered to be there. And it wasn't as though he was happy about it, either. He had a sinking suspicion that the only reason Haggar was going along with this plan was to ingratiate herself to their king.
If it gets her closer to her ultimate goal, she'll do it. She's no better than a common whore, except that she's not selling her body. He almost laughed aloud at the idea, but had the good sense to stop himself. Not that there'd be any buyers.
"Yurak." She motioned towards her inner sanctum, her altar to her gods and goddesses. "I wasn't lying when I told King Zarkon that I wanted to help you. It is in our best interests, after all. Not just the planet's. Ours."
What in the name of Ba'al is the old witch playing at? "Of course it is in our best interests to defeat Voltron, old witch. We must establish ourselves as the most powerful planet—with the most powerful army—in the universe!"
She looked over her shoulder at him, annoyed. "You did not listen to me, Commander Yurak. It is in our best interests to prevail. Yes, it will be a great boon to our reputation to establish how powerful our warriors and armies are, but to defeat the mighty Voltron...well, that is a feat allowed only to the deities. And should you and I establish ourselves as strong as the deities, then we shall be…"
We—well, I—shall be granted immortality and limitless magic. You shall be given nothing, for you are not of the Wyvern. There was no way that Haggar would give Yurak this information, though. After all, she had already assessed him. He was merely a pawn.
And a fool.
"We shall be feared across the universe!" the commander roared, excitement glittering in his one eye. "We'll be able to crush every single entity who dares to cross our paths! We shall own every planet and all the gold in all the solar systems!"
Close enough. The witch nodded in agreement. "Then you would accept my help, it seems?"
"Yes, Witch."
It was the kindest name Yurak had ever bestowed upon her. "Then come see what I've been working on. I have chosen a creature from the fighting pits. He was destined to become a robeast, you see. And not only a robeast...the robeast. The one which will bring Voltron to its knees."
He followed, eager to watch the process in which Haggar would transform a pit monster into a powerful robeast. Now he felt entirely different about her magic, even though her lair still creeped all of Ba'al's hells out of him. She could be the key to his rise to glory.
Or to his demise.
Tech Sargeant Sparks was always at the forefront of the Explorer. He wasn't the commander or the captain, not by a long shot—Though we all might be better off if I was, he sometimes grumbled to himself—but he was still the first to know nearly everything that came across their ship's path. He was also the first to learn of any of the ship's gossip, but that was beside the point.
Now he was the first to learn about something...exciting.
He blinked at first, wondering if it was possible. Had he actually found what they were looking for? Had they stumbled upon a new planet to colonize? His fingers clicking furiously, he began the initial scan to find out whether or not there were any indigenous races.
There were none. It's empty, he thought with profound disbelief.
He ran a few more initial test just to be sure, but he was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. "Commander Hawkins! Captain Newley! I have a new, uncolonized planet on the radar!"
Hawkins was by the tech sargeant's side in two strides. "You're joking," he deadpanned, his dark gaze piercing the screen. "Are you sure? How did we come by an empty planet so quickly?"
"We're just that lucky?" Newley joined them, at a considerably slower pace than the commander. "Wow, look at that planet. Are you sure it's not colonized?"
Sparks shook his head in frustration. "What's the matter, gentlemen? Do you think the lowly tech sargeant doesn't know anything about running computer scans on a planet?"
"Sorry, Sparks." The commander's face held a hint of amusement. "Of course we trust your judgment. It's just that...how many years have we been aboard the Explorer, and we haven't seen an uncolonized planet in how long? It seems impossible that we've barely been in orbit and already found one."
"I always said we were Moriarty's lucky charms," Newley cracked.
Ignoring the ship's captain, Hawkins formed a plan off the top of his head. "We should send the teams out there to investigate. Then, once they give the all-clear, we can contact the Garrison and have them send support fleets and building crews."
"You make it sound so easy, Jon." Newley, having become serious for a moment, glowered at the statistics on the viewscreen. "Even if this is a good planet, Earth is hardly in a position to claim it without breaching contract with the rest of the planets in the Galaxy Alliance. We should contact Space Marshall Graham and give him a heads-up."
"Agreed." Hawkins gave his friend a short nod. "Rich, you get in touch with the Garrison and let them know what we've found. I'll assemble the Voltron Force and send them out for exploration."
"Deal," Newley agreed, "except that I think I've got the easy end."
The commander knew that his friend was referring to the debacle that was Captain Jeff Aki and his inability to choose a second-in-command, but he shrugged it off. After all, he'd rather deal with Voltron than with the Garrison bigwigs. His uncle had always been better at that than he was, anyway. "That's what you think, Rich."
The chalice was filled to the top with blood wine. When the slave girl handed the goblet to him, Zarkon grabbed it eagerly, greedily lifting it to his lips and drinking like it was water.
It was good to be king.
The pleasantries, however, did not last for long. "Sire," one of his guards came forth, "you have a message of the utmost importance."
"Bah. What could be more important than my blood wine?" Zarkon drained the goblet, his reptilian hands gripping the handle with a fearsome strength.
The guard winced. It would be so easy for the king to throw the chalice at him in a fit of impromptu rage, leaving him with a bruised face...or worse. "It is from King Cova of Planet Pollux, Sire. Would you like me to patch the message through to the throne room?"
"Oh, fine." Zarkon seemed bored. "SLAVE GIRL! MORE WINE!"
As the girl scurried to refill his chalice, the guard set up the viewscreen so that the king could receive the message from the comfort of his throne. Zarkon sipped at the new wine in his goblet, temporarily sedated enough to receive a call from a fellow dignitary whom he loathed, but could not show his true feelings to yet. Cova and his blasted planet might serve me some use.
The malicious white-bearded countenance belonging to the Polluxian ruler lit up the screen. "Zarkon," he snarled in greeting. "I suppose you've yet to think over my offer."
The king of Korrinoth appeared bored, putting up a calm veneer while seething underneath. Of course I've thought over your offer, you blasted fool. I just haven't decided what I want to do with it yet. "Cova," he answered, keeping his voice smooth and even, "that's not the correct way to greet a fellow royal."
He was taunting the Polluxian monarch and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.
Much to his surprise, Cova ignored his remark. "I wasn't joking around with you when I sent my proposal. I offer up my beautiful daughter Romelle as a bride and queen to your son Lotor, and in return, I ask for your aid in destroying Pollux's twin planet, Arus...which, if I recall," he sneered, "has been your intent all along. Though," he added snarkily, "it doesn't seem that way from recent reports."
Pompous louse. It would be fun to destroy him. "What do you have to offer me, Cova? Aside from a marriage which, of course, would be of no benefit to me. Your daughter's pretty face might entice my idiot son, but I can't see how it would help me in demolishing Arus."
Cova's face contorted slightly, just enough for Zarkon to see that he had struck a nerve. "You do know that my oldest child, Prince Avok, is my planet's strongest man and bravest warrior, do you not?"
"What are you proposing? That he should marry Lotor instead?" Oh, this is great fun. I'm so glad I took this call.
"Of course not." Now Cova appeared angered, perhaps rightfully so. "I've heard stories about your witch, Zarkon. The one who worships Sarga of the Wyvern. She has powerful magic, and I believe that she has the ability to transform my son into the greatest warrior the universe has ever seen. He alone would be a weapon—no, the weapon—to use against Arus and destroy it."
"Hmm. That's interesting." The portion of Zarkon's mind which wasn't clouded over with alcohol truly was interested. "You must be hells-bent on taking over Arus if you're willing to sacrifice your own son to the cause."
"I am." The Polluxian ruler never flinched. "Between the two of us, Zarkon, my son will not survive. Even if he does not die in battle—let's face it, he is strong enough to defeat Voltron with your witch's aid—he remains a mere mortal. Should Haggar transform him into a robeast, he will never fully recover from the process, mentally or physically. I already know this. Avok does not."
"The bottom line is," Zarkon mused, "in exchange for our aid, you are willing to sacrifice both your daughter and your son. Is that what you're telling me?"
Cova's face was like stone. "Yes."
"Tell me, do they know of their sacrifices, or are they merely following your orders blindly? You are, after all, sending them to the slaughter like lambs."
"My children will do what it best for Pollux!" he replied hotly. "They do not ask questions. They only follow orders."
He is more psychotic than I gave him credit for. Zarkon wrapped his fingers tightly around the goblet. "Then, if it is truly your wish to sacrifice your son to destroy Arus—and marry your daughter off to Lotor—then I don't see how I could possibly turn down your proposal."
Cova's stony face turned, his lips curling upward in satisfaction. "So then, you accept my proposal," he repeated, his stance and countenance softening. "Romelle will be Lotor's wife and queen, and Avok, aided by Haggar's magic, will be the greatest champion that both Pollux and Korrinoth have ever seen."
"Indeed." Zarkon was growing bored of this conversation. "Have you anything else to add, Cova?"
"No." He shook his head. "I am beyond pleased by what has transpired here."
"Very good." Zarkon waved his free hand at the screen. "When the time is right, I will call upon you and your children. I expect that you will be at the ready, my friend. For you never know when I will send your invitation to Doom."
Without waiting for a response, he cut off the transmission.
He is one sick bastard indeed. But if he is truly willing to sacrifice his son in an effort to defeat Arus, then I won't turn it down. He swallowed the remaining wine in his goblet. As for his daughter...Lotor will marry whichever woman he wishes. Perhaps he'll marry Romelle, perhaps he won't. But I'll let him have his fun with her.
It was a very satisfactory call for Zarkon and the royalty of Korrinoth, indeed. Unfortunately for Cova and his children, they had no idea that they had just been taken advantage of.
Jeff could hardly contain his excitement at the team's first set of orders. They were off to explore a planet. They weren't just playing at Voltron again, they were actually doing what they'd been hired to do, meaning that they were finally doing something in their job description. The Air Team captain did everything in his power not to show how eager he was. He had to appear cool at all costs, if only to show Commander Hawkins that he wasn't going to screw this mission up.
"This is so great!" Chip squeaked, gripping at the controls of his Advanced Recon Helicopter. "I can't believe we're finally going out on a mission!"
"Not just practicing," Rocky added. "Yeah, I can't wait to get out there and bust some skulls."
"Actually, Rocky, we won't be busting skulls," Wolo corrected the Brooklynite patiently. "We're simply exploring a new planet. And only the sky of this new planet, no less. I don't see how we could possibly—"
"Anything is possible in space, Wolo," Ginger interrupted him.
She's right. Jeff was suddenly proud of Ginger; a strong, undeniable pride that attracted him even more to the fiery blond. "Ellington is right," he spoke into the monitor, careful that only his four Air Team pilots should hear. "Anything is possible in space. I'm sure Cliff and Crik are telling their Sea and Land Teams the same thing. Everyone be on alert. I don't want to start a fight, but I'll be more than happy to finish it."
"You and that hot temper of yours," Rocky beamed.
Coming so soon after his conversation with Cova and his multiple chalices of blood wine, Zarkon almost thought that there was something wrong with his vision when Yurak and Haggar entered the throne room together. As the witch and the commander greeted him with bows and genuflection, he realized that no, he could see fine, and this was definitely happening.
He was going to require more wine.
"Sire," Haggar began, her face covered by her hood, "Commander Yurak has been to my lab."
Before the king could retort, Yurak stood up. "I have seen what the witch has to offer my forces. She has created a mighty robeast, one which is larger and more powerful than Voltron. Sire, I ask that you allow us to begin the attack on Arus immediately."
Zarkon appeared mildly interested. "The destruction of Arus is on the forefront of my mind always," he snarled. "While I appreciate that you've asked me permission to begin an attack, I'd rather you go ahead and attack...and be victorious, I might add."
The commander's one eye gleamed with excitement. "Thank you, Sire. We shall do you proud and be victorious."
The king waved his hand at them. "You are dismissed."
As Yurak and Haggar turned their backs on the throne, the commander leaned into the witch. "Then it's a good thing," he whispered, "that Zarkon gave us his blessing. After all, the troops are already halfway to Arus by now."
The witch only nodded in reply.
Captain Newley's fingers were tingling with excitement as he keyed in the code for Galaxy Garrison.
Irreverent as he was, the captain rarely cared about what happened with the brass, nor was he the type to ask for permission for every little thing he did aboard what was now his ship. Okay, well, mine and Jon's. However, even he knew it was best not to overstep the High Command. You never know if the toes you step on today will be connected to the butt you have to kiss tomorrow.
In his quarters—which, he lamented, weren't nearly as nice as the commander's—he queued up the computer and sent a transmission to home base. Galaxy Garrison was notoriously difficult to contact; the only reason he was able to reach out in the first place was because he had made friends with a certain Lieutenant Brown over the years, allowing for the ease of making direct contact with one of the Space Marshall's inner circle.
Clicking in the direct code, Newley was shocked when his friend didn't answer the transmission. One of Brown's cohorts opened it instead. Wow, this might be even better.
"I'm looking for Don Brown," he told the woman in question. "Why isn't he answering his direct line?"
She was lovely, with chestnut locks and warm chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Sir. He's in the restroom. I'll fetch him for you."
"No. Don't bother." He gazed at her image over the screen. Since when does old man Graham hire hot chicks? "I need to get in touch with the Space Marshall. Do you think you could patch me in?"
"Sir, I'm a systems analyst at my core. There's never been a computer system built that I can't patch you into."
"Good. Then do it." He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, but he couldn't spend any more time than necessary talking to this lovely young lady. Too bad. Maybe I'll catch her again later. "Please," he remembered to add, a moment too late.
"Of course." She had barely clicked on her keyboard when he lost her image, instead being transferred to Graham's office.
"Newley, is that you?" the Space Marshall squinted at the screen. "Please don't tell me that you're having problems and I need to send Moriarty to chase after the Explorer. The man is retired, after all."
"And I hope he's working on his golf game, too." Newley shook his head. "No, Sir. We've found a planet. It appears to be uninhabited. Commander Hawkins has sent the Voltron Force out to explore. But we wanted to let you and the High Command know, because if this is a new, livable world for us, you may want to alert the rest of the planets in the Galaxy Alliance before we claim it for Earth."
The white-bearded man nodded. "I shall do that. Space Marshall out."
"Newley out." He closed the transmission with Graham and backed away from the viewscreen. He felt relieved at finally completing the task; despite the fact that it had taken more effort than he'd wanted to contact the Garrison, he'd been successful.
Who was that girl, anyway? he wondered as he pulled away from the viewscreen. She was hot.
Hazar was surprised that Emperor Zeppo wasn't there to see him off.
Being the most prominent of the newly-elected Drule officers—after all, his father was chancellor—Hazar had been selected to leave the planet and start on his exploration first. He wasn't surprised that his parents and Dorma were there to send him off, and he was pleased that Captains Mongo, Twyla and Nerok had joined in the celebration as well.
"I'm nervous. Are you?" Dorma leaned into her brother. "I'll miss you, Hazar. Who else will help me rein in Mom's worry and Dad's big head?"
Hazar couldn't help but laugh. "You'll be fine, Dorma. I have nothing but faith in you."
She stuck out her tongue. "Thanks a lot."
They both laughed, and he embraced his sister. "Regardless, I'll miss you. Promise me that you won't forget about me while I'm gone."
"Oh, Hazar Teles, I could never forget about my big brother." She closed her pink-rimmed eyes as she laid her head against his shoulder. She was worried—what would she do if something happened to him on his mission? What if he was hurt, or worse, died? "Make sure you return home safely."
"I will return home a hero."
She blinked. "You're already a hero in my eyes."
He rested his chin atop his sister's head for a moment. He would miss her very much; they had done everything together. They were like partners in crime in the best way. Was it even possible for him to go on this adventure without her? Probably not, but he was going to have to anyway.
"Aww. Isn't that sweet."
His ears pricked up as he caught the woman's sarcastic tone of voice, and he lifted his chin off the top of his sister's head. As he did, he caught sight of one of his fellow peers, hand-chosen by Zeppo himself. "Twyla."
The newly-instated captain, with her fair purple skin and pink-rimmed eyes, crossed her arms over her chest as she studied the brother and sister. Hazar didn't like or appreciate the condescending expression on her face. "You know," she pointed out flippantly, "Nerok is taking off at the same time as you are. I wonder, who will find a new planet for our Emperor first?"
As Hazar opened his mouth to retort, his sister cut him off. "Ignore her," Dorma hissed, narrowing her eyes at the sarcastic woman with the pale aqua hair. "She's not as high up in rank as you are. She's only a captain to your rank of commander."
Whether or not the insult hit, Twyla backed away, leaving the siblings to finish their good-byes. Then, hiding the mournful feelings within him, Hazar smiled at Dorma and waved as he boarded his ship.
That Twyla is a piece of trash, he thought as he looked over his new bridge and crew. If he was fortunate, he'd be dealing more with Mongo than the woman he'd encountered, though he didn't believe he'd be that lucky.
There. I've finally finished it.
Sven was slow to anything in communications, and not just because he was quiet himself. The only reason he even got this far with the tower was because he'd paid so much attention to Lenora over the past five years. He couldn't help it—he loved his fiancée so much that he'd picked up on every last detail about her.
It hurt being away from her. But it's only temporary. I'll be back on Earth before we know it.
He wondered if she had gone home to Westchester, beginning to plan their wedding with her mother. He grinned at the idea of his elskede trying on wedding gowns, twirling in front of the mirror in a confection of white silk and lace, trying to decide which one to marry him in. How she might look walking down the aisle towards him, her gleaming chestnut hair twisted away from her lovely face, exposing her long neck and pale shoulders.
Once they made it home, she would finally—after five long years—be his wife, and they would never be separated again.
"Sven? Arus to Sven! Come in, Sven, come in!"
Her sweet voice jolted him back to the present. Allura was staring at him, almost as though she'd been studying him as he spaced out. It was...embarrassing.
"Sorry about that, Princess."
"No sorrier than we are." Sven and Allura both glanced over her shoulder at the boys. The remaining four space explorers had returned to the castle, and from the obvious expressions on their faces, with not-so-great news.
Lance jammed his hands into the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket. "We come bearing bad news."
Allura's brow wrinkled. "Oh? What is it?"
"Yeah." Keith, appearing perplexed, crossed his arms over his chest. "It seems as though none of your subjects are willing to help us fight against Doom, Princess. It's all up to us."
She shook her head remorsefully. "That's disappointing," she agreed sadly. "But I can't say that I don't understand. My people have been to hell and back in this war against Zarkon. I don't blame them for not wanting to stick out their necks."
"Yeah, but it stinks for us." Hunk was not one to mince words.
Chatter broke out among the group. Sven recognized complaining from Lance, Hunk and Pidge; Keith's commanding words to hush them; Allura's soothing tones to pacify them. He was only paying half-attention. Something was in the air, electric and heavy.
Something which would shatter their atmosphere...or elevate it to the next level, however one decided to look on it.
He didn't know why he acted before he knew what was happening. "Duck!" he screeched, lunging at the princess and knocking her to the ground.
There it was. Whatever ammunition had been fired exploded once it crashed into the stone wall behind them, proof positive that the first shot had been made...and that Sven's instincts had been dead-on.
"What the heck was that?" Lance cried out.
Keith looked into the sky, squinting and shielding his eyes. "Look out, guys," he gasped as Doom's warships appeared on the horizon. "We've got company!"
The princess and her Voltron Force stood open-mouthed for roughly ten seconds, allowing the enormity of the situation to settle upon them. After swallowing, she took charge of the situation. "To the lions! Now!"
"You heard the princess," Keith echoed. "We go!"
Five space explorers took off running towards the control room. Allura lifted up her skirts and followed, keeping pace with them. Nothing good would come of her being out here now. She had to get to the weapons console and back Voltron up in their oncoming battle.