Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any other material that is copyrighted material by World Events Productions or Paramount. What are mine are the crew of the Berlin (except for Mordock and Scotty), and the fighter, Thunderwing as well as the story itself.

And thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. And a special thanks to RedLion2, who plugged me in the intro to chapter 15 of her great story, Summer Journey.

Star Tron: Escalations

Chapter 3: Frustrations

By the time Allura and Hunk reached Arus, the battle was over. All around the castle, columns of smoke stretched skyward, marking the final resting places of the Doom fighters.

As Allura and Hunk stepped out of the launch tubes and into Castle Control, they found Keith, Lance, and Pidge comparing notes on the battle.

"Man, that was an awesome setup," Lance was saying. "It was like a pinball machine, bing-bing-bing," he said, jerking his hand around in a zigzag. "I musta got eight on that one pass."

"Yeah, and Pidge shot twice that many off of you," Keith scolded.

"Aw, come on, I was fine."

Hunk joined in, talking about nailing fighters as they tried to escape into Federation space, while Allura drifted over to Coran. As she approached, the old advisor shook his head. "Pilots," he grumbled.

Allura smiled. "Let them have their fun."

Coran nodded. "Yes, you're right, of course." He'd noticed that about the young princess. Under Keith's tutelage, she'd obtained a functional knowledge of military operations. And with that came and understanding that the ability to unwind and relax after combat was just as important as the tactics used on the battlefield.

"How bad was the damage?" she asked.

"Not bad at all. Between the Lions and the guns, we suffered only some shield damage and a few armor plates blown off. To be honest, it almost seemed like they weren't trying to attack us at all."

"The group that attacked us tried to go through the wormhole."

"Then this group may have only been a diversion."

"If that's the case, they failed. Hunk destroyed all the fighters that tried to go through."

"Are you sure?" Keith asked.

Allura hadn't seen him approach, and his question startled her. She turned to face him, and she felt something stir in her as she looked at him, but quickly reined it in. Forget it. He's not even interested, she thought. "Yes. All of the fighters were out of sensor range before Hunk and I left," she replied.

Keith nodded.

The two looked at each other for a moment, then Keith turned and addressed the others. "Okay. That was some good work, but we're not done yet. Allura, you and Hunk still have to complete your rotation. Pidge, you and Lance are up next."

"Keith, you're a slave driver, you know that?"

Keith ignored his friend's wisecrack. "Let's get going, people."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two hours later, Keith was on his way to Castle Control. As he came around a corner, her collided with Allura, who was coming from the adjoining corridor. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders to steady her, but found herself reluctant to let go.

"Keith, are you all right?" Allura asked.

Keith dropped his hands sheepishly. "Uh, I uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that, Princess."

Allura couldn't help the bit of disappointment that gripped her momentarily at the sound of her title. "It's all right, Keith."

"You know, I'm glad I ran into you."

"Really?" Allura's heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you, uh . . ."

"Yes?"

"Uh, I wanted to say, 'well done'."

"I'm sorry?"

"You did well in that fight. I looked over the sensor logs, and you looked good. And you shot down more fighters than you have in a long time."

"Oh." She didn't really know what else to say.

"Yeah. It looks like all that training with Adam is paying off."

Allura smiled. "Yes, it is."

Keith nodded. "Good. Well, I've gotta see Coran now, so I'll see you around."

"Sure," Allura replied, heading off down the hall.

Once she was gone, Keith slapped himself in the forehead. DUH! He'd had a perfect chance right there, and he'd blown it. Worse, he brought his competition into it. Lance had told him how Adam was getting very friendly with Allura, and it made him greener than a Medusan with envy. But how could he break his own rule?

He'd had the perfect opportunity right there to tell her how he felt, and instead he'd talked about her combat performance. Hardly the most romantic of topics. One of his natural reactions to stress was to slip into "soldier" mode. Usually, it saved his butt, but it was entirely the wrong reaction for this situation.

So, confused and disgusted, Keith continued on to Castle Control.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Keith wasn't the only one feeling frustrated. Allura too had found the encounter disappointing. Just when it felt like he was going to open up, he shut her down. All he'd wanted was to compliment her on her improvement. She really thought he was going to say something more meaningful.

Maybe Nanny was right. Maybe she just had a crush on Keith. A simple, girlish crush. He was one of the first men she'd met that was close to her own age, and not one of her subjects. He was handsome, smart, fair, kind, all the things that make a great leader. There was a lot to admire. A lot to like.

But every time it felt like they were getting closer, he backed away. He always treated her with courtesy and respect, but that's as far as it went. He never opened up to her, or gave her any indication that he wanted more. Keith was her friend, to be sure. Someone she could trust with her life and that of every person on her planet. But it seemed like it would go no further.

As she sat in a chair, at a small table by her window and began to remove her boots, she glanced at the wall, and noticed a picture of her and Adam shaking hands at the treaty signing, hanging among others of her and various leaders and dignitaries, her parents, and the Voltron Force. She and Adam had become good friends, and especially since he'd begun giving her additional training in dogfighting. She always liked spending time with him, whether flying, at dinner, or in the lounge with the others.

Maybe that was it. Perhaps the feelings she'd been projecting toward Keith were really meant for someone else.

It was all so confusing. How did she really feel about Keith? Or Adam, for that matter? Was it a crush? Was it real? Who was she really trying to connect with? She didn't know. All she knew was that one man she'd shown interest in wasn't reciprocating, and likewise she wasn't reciprocating to someone who was showing interest in her. These questions and more swirled in her head in an unintelligible cacophony of confusion. The only thing she knew for certain was that she had a lot to straighten out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Captain, we are approaching Space Station Tango Seven."

"Thank you, Mordock. Helm, reduce speed to impulse, all ahead one-half."

"Aye, sir," Curtis replied.

"Yellow alert, all hands to rescue stations," Driscoll announced. "Dr. Saladin, prepare to receive wounded."

"Acknowledged," said the doctor's voice.

"Visual range, sir," said Mordock.

"Onscreen," Gredar rumbled.

The image of Tango Seven filled the viewer, and it wasn't pretty. At one time, the station would have presented an interesting architectural design. Four towers clumped together and topped with landing pads formed a central hub. An outer ring of four towers was connected to each other and to the central complex by catwalks and had various antennas sticking out. Overall, the base looked like a spiny castle made of paper towel tubes.

But now, most of the catwalks were broken and collapsed, and the towers were burnt and scorched by laser fire, and sported several large holes. What once had probably been an impressive installation had been reduced to a mass of scrap.

Driscoll walked up to the science station. "Life signs?" he asked.

Mordock's hands flew over his panel as he focused every one of the ship's sensors on the base, searching for even the most minute indication of life. He looked up at the captain. "Nothing."

Driscoll turned and looked at the screen, studying the broken fortress.

"Confirmed, sir," said Jacobs. "There's nobody alive on the base."

Driscoll was speechless. He hadn't expected this. He'd expected to find survivors. Maybe in escape pods, maybe on the base, but he'd expected survivors.

He walked slowly back to his seat, then turned to the science officer. "Mordock, is there any atmosphere left?"

"Yes, sir," the Benzite replied. "There seems to be a lot of damage inside the base, but the inner regions are relatively intact."

Driscoll nodded. "T.J., you're with me. Call two guards," he said, heading for the starboard turbolift. "Dr. Saladin, Mr. Scott, report to transporter room one."

"Captain . . ." Gredar began, slowly rising from his seat.

Driscoll knew exactly what the Gorn was about to say. Protocol dictated that the first officer lead away teams, as the captain was a more valuable officer, and many had not been blessed with James Kirk's luck in surviving tough away missions. "Objection noted, Commander, but I'm leading this one. The ship is yours."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jacobs and the security officers held their phasers ready while the others shone their lights around the room. The away team had materialized in the middle of what appeared to be a research lab. There were a number of tables in the room, set with various equipment. There was also a large, cylindrical glass chamber in the middle of the room, connected to a bank of computers that lined one wall. Driscoll walked over to the chamber, studying it.

"Scotty, what is that?" he asked.

Scott looked over the device. "I don't know, sir. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a reaction chamber of some kind."

Driscoll nodded.

"Hm, a girl could get used to working in a place like this," said one of the guards, a young ensign named Janice MacReady.

"What is it, Ensign?" Jacobs asked.

"Gems, Commander. They're all over this table."

Jacobs walked over to the table. Indeed, a number of gemstones were arranged in trays, but they all looked to be the same. Bluish in color, and ranging from water clear and flawless to cloudy and cracked. "Sapphires?" she wondered.

"No, topaz."

"You seem to know your stones, Ensign," Driscoll commented.

"My dad's a jeweler, sir."

"Ah," Driscoll replied with a nod.

"I wonder why they'd be investing these kind of resources to study common jewels?" Saladin wondered.

"Good question, Sheik," Driscoll replied. "But one mystery at a time. "Scotty, where's their control center?"

Scott consulted his tricorder for a moment. "It should be four levels up."

"Okay, let's go."

The group left the lab and moved out into the corridor. What they found there stopped them in their tracks.

"My God!" said Scott.

There were several bodies in the corridor. Some were Alliance soldiers. Others were Doom soldiers and battle droids.

"Sheik?" Driscoll asked.

Saladin checked his tricorder, then looked at the Captain and shook his head. "They're dead, Adam."

Driscoll sighed heavily. "Okay. Let's find a turbolift or something and get to the control deck."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After discovering that the lift system was inoperable, it took the group twenty minutes to make their way to the control center, using crawlways and access ladders. When they arrived, they found a hazy, smoke filled chamber. Several more bodies were slumped over consoles, and others were sprawled on the floor. Unlike the rest of the base, though, the control center still had power.

"T.J., secure the area. Scotty, try to access their computers and upload the data to the ship. Sheik, uh, make sure…" Driscoll trailed off, waving his hand around, indicating the chamber.

As the rest of the team set about their tasks, Driscoll tapped his combadge. "Driscoll to Berlin."

"Gredar here."

"We're in the control center. We haven't found any survivors, but from the laser burns and the bodies, it looks like there was a hell of a fight down here."

"Lieutenant Mordock has found a set of warp trails leading away from the base, toward Doom space."

"The raiders?"

"Likely."

"Okay. Stand by. We'll contact you again when we finish here. Driscoll out."

"Captain?"

"Yeah, Scotty?" Driscoll replied, looking toward the engineer, who was sitting at a console on the perimeter of the room.

"Everything's been wiped clean, except for the sensor logs. Those are still running."

Driscoll and the others crowded around the Scotsman, staring at the screen, which showed a view of themselves from behind.

"Can you access the previous logs?" Driscoll asked.

"Aye. What are you looking for?"

"I want to see the attack force."

Scott keyed in a series of commands, until he brought up an image from the tactical sensors showing the Doom fleet that had attacked the base. There were eight battleships and two slave carriers.

"Slave ships?" Jacobs wondered aloud.

Driscoll stared at the image. "This wasn't a strike. They raided this station. Whatever they were doing here, Zarkon wanted in on it. They took out the defenses, fought their way to the control room, emptied the memory banks, and I'll bet they took most of the researchers prisoner."

"Why do you say that?" MacReady asked.

"All the bodies we found were soldiers, for one. For two, if they'd killed the scientists, I doubt they'd have left that lab and its equipment intact."

Saladin nodded. "It makes sense."

"Okay people, wrap it up," Driscoll commanded, his plan of action already forming. "Driscoll to Berlin, lay in an intercept course on that warp trail, and stand by to engage as soon as we return."

"Acknowledged." Gredar replied.

Driscoll looked around as his team as they stood in a ring, ready for transport. "Driscoll to transporter room, six to beam up."

"Standing by," came the reply.

"Energize," Driscoll ordered. Seconds later, the control room of Tango Seven melted away, then reformed into transporter room one aboard the Berlin. Driscoll raced from the chamber as he ordered Curtis to engage the pursuit heading.

By the time Driscoll and Jacobs reached the bridge, the ship was already under way.

Driscoll walked over to the science officer. "Mordock, extrapolate the heading of that fleet. Where are they going?" he asked, then turned and went to his seat.

A moment later, Mordock turned and said, "According to the charts I referenced, their course will take the enemy fleet directly to Doom."

"Damn. Well, let's hope we can catch them before they get there."

The bridge crew worked silently for the next few minutes as the starship chased down the Doom slave ships and their unwilling cargo, then tension mounting with each passing second.

Suddenly, Mordock announced, "Doom fleet, dead ahead!"

"Our target?" Gredar hissed.

"Negative, this fleet is larger."

"How many?" Driscoll asked.

"Reading thirty ships. Now thirty-five…forty…fifty. Fifty vessels, sir."

"Shit! Time to intercept?"

"Two minutes," Jacobs replied.

Driscoll had a choice to make. Against fifty vessels, his ship stood little chance, even with all her advantages. The Berlin was simply outgunned. But if they turned back, there'd be no chance of recovering the crew of Tango Seven.

"What's their armament?" Driscoll asked.

"Twelve battleships with standard armament," Mordock replied. "Thirty star cutters, and eight cruisers with lazon-missile load outs.

Lazon. Great, Driscoll thought. Lazon-based energy weapons weren't a problem, but lazon missiles were. During Operation Doolittle, the worst damage the starship sustained was done by a cruiser's lazon missile salvo, which knocked out a shield grid and caused radiation burns to a number of crewmen. It was the one weapon in the Doom arsenal that posed any serious threat to the ship.

"Sir, I have lost the slave ship's trail. The incoming fleet has obscured it," said Mordock.

That did it. Running a gauntlet and flying into the heart of Doom territory on a rescue mission was one thing. But doing that on a hunch, and hoping they were going the right way was not Driscoll's idea of fun. But he had to do something. He couldn't just let those people be taken like that.

"Forty seconds," Jacobs warned.

No, there was nothing more he could do. His immediate concern now was his ship and crew. The scientists were lost.

Reluctantly, he said to Curtis, "Helm, come about. Return to Arus, warp speed, all ahead full."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aboard the flagship of the Doom fleet, Commander Cossack watched the massive starship bank away and leap into warp.

He grinned with pride. The cowards fled before his very approach! How could they even be considered a threat when they fled so readily?

Not that he blamed them. The 27th battle group was one of Zarkon's elite units, and had led the attacks on dozens of worlds that were now subjects of Zarkon's empire.

The young commander knew he couldn't catch the ship, but he didn't have to. His orders had been to simply "dispose" of them. So, mission accomplished.

And it was another feather in his cap. Cossack was one of the rising stars of the Doom military, having personally led the conquests of four worlds before being assigned to command the 27th. If he kept this up, he'd be Lord Commander of the 5th Group in no time. Maybe even Supreme Commander of the Navy, second only to Lotor himself.

As he basked in his fantasies, he made an idle comment to a yeoman to inform command of the Berlin's flight from the encounter, and to request new orders. Hopefully, his next assignment would be more challenging.