The cameras finally, mercifully stopped flashing and Shiro tried to blink away the spots in his vision. How had he never realized how lucky they were that none of the planets they'd liberated used that particular technology?

Beside him, the younger paladins looked equally relieved by the end to the visual assault, if not the verbal one as the cluster of journalists, hastily assembled from those who'd apparently been dogging Iverson for information about the aliens after Coran had interrupted their excited discussion of the implications of Pidge's discovery with the commander's request, continued to barrage them with questions. Nevermind the fact that both Allura and Shiro had already delivered highly-condensed recountings of the events that had happened over the last year and some months, as well as the origins of the war, and the interrogation-not quite enough to make him miss the last time he'd been captured on a mission, but the thought had definitely crossed his mind-had been going on for hours.

Hunk shifted closer, still plastering on a smile for the cameras. "I think Keith and Pidge need a break soon." he muttered out of the corner of his mouth with a meaningful sideways glance at the two. Shiro followed his gaze and bit back a laugh.

While Allura and Lance were very much in their element, the former easily keeping up a warm diplomatic smile and the latter practically hamming it up for the cameras-a welcome change from his earlier moroseness, although Shiro knew him well enough by now to doubt that his cheerful grin was entirely genuine-Keith and Pidge were anything but comfortable with all the attention. It was the same story on any planet they went to. Give them a fight, a mission, a problem to solve, they were all over it, but expect them to smile and play nice for the cameras? No chance. Keith's arms were folded so tightly across his chest Shiro was surprised his fingertips weren't leaving divots in his armor, his glare having steadily progressed from annoyed toward murderous until even the journalists (one of the most fearless species of humans, in Shiro's experience) were wary of approaching him. And Pidge's fingers were twitching toward her wrist computer and an escape from social interaction while her desire to not have to talk anymore was coming out in her increasingly aggravated tone. They'd been holding up well, though, and the journalists finally seemed to be running out of questions. As long as none of them asked anything too idiotic-

"Miss Holt! How did you feel when you realized the Garrison had been lying to you about the deaths of your brother and father?"

-Like that. Shiro saw Pidge's eyes narrow and her mouth open for what was sure to be a scathing retort and quickly intervened before she could jump the fool who was grinning at her, stylus poised to write down her answer. Stepping forward, he clapped his hands loudly, drawing all eyes to him. "Alright, I'm afraid we're out of time for today." He declared, smiling amiably at the disappointed faces of the journalists. "We need to get ready for our afternoon training session. Lance, Hunk, Keith, Pidge, you're dismissed. Go do your warm-ups and stretches and I'll join you in a few minutes."

It was a lie, they didn't actually have training planned. But it wasn't the first time they'd used training as a convenient excuse to put an end to situations like this and even if he hadn't been he doubted they wouldn't have taken the out. The younger four saluted him, the raggedness of the gestures betraying how exhausted they were with the whole thing, and then they were gone so fast he didn't even see which way they went. The fact that even Lance hadn't protested...he wasn't sure if the lengthy interview had got to him, or if he was still upset about the Haggar revelation. Not that Shiro could blame him if he was. He knew all too well how it felt to learn that you were walking in the footsteps of one of your enemies. He'd have to talk to the teen later, let him know that whatever Haggar had done didn't change who Lance was, or what they thought of him. That reminded him he also needed to try to get Keith to talk to him about whatever had been bothering him all morning, although god knew nobody could bottle up his feelings like Keith when he didn't want to talk.

First, though, he had to wrap up this group interview and get these reporters out of the Castle. Allura would be taking them over to one of the pack ships to meet a few aliens before they left. One of them was waving a hand eagerly, so he nodded to the woman to ask her question. "What exactly does your training entail?" Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

"That depends on the day and the skills we're working on." He answered easily. "The Castle of Lions' training facilities are very versatile and allow us to do everything from team-building exercises such as guiding a partner through a maze that only the guiding partner can see, to live-fire combat simulations against any number of robotic opponents."

Another journalist frowned as he jotted notes. "Live-fire combat simulations? Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

Shiro shrugged, giving a small nod. "Fighting the Galra is dangerous. The best thing we can do is be ready for anything they might throw at us, and that means practicing to face those kinds of situations ahead of time. Believe me, they can handle it. The training drones are nothing compared to what they might face in the field. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He turned away from the cluster of reporters around him and stepped toward the side of the room where Matt had been answering questions about the resistance specifically, since he was more familiar with it than anyone else in the room.

Shiro hadn't taken more than two steps, though, before he heard Matt's voice raised in obvious anger that he seldom heard from the other man. "I said, I'm not going into detail about that. Stop asking!"

"What's going on here?" Shiro crossed the room in a hurry, seeing a handful of journalists stunned to silence by the frustration on Matt's face. He frowned. Obviously someone had asked something that had upset Matt. This is why he hated dealing with media, no respect for boundaries. "Alright. We're done here. Thank you for your time." His tone left no room for argument as he stepped between Matt and his interviewers, gesturing towards the row of chairs where the other group were stashing notes and tablets in bags and briefcases.

He waited until they'd moved away before turning, grabbing Matt's shoulders gently and keeping his voice low. "Hey, you okay? What happened?"

Matt made a small noise of frustration, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. They just...kept bugging me for details about things I told them I didn't want to talk about."

"Like what?" Shiro prompted. He wouldn't pry, he just wanted to know what was on his boyfriend's mind so he knew how to handle the situation.

The other blew out a soft sigh, glancing away. "...Like Dad." He whispered, two words carrying a weight of grief and sorrow.

Oh. That would definitely do it. No wonder Matt had snapped.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the journalists were nearly done gathering up their things. "Come on. Allura can handle this. Let's get out of here." He murmured. Putting an arm around Matt's shoulders, he steered him out of the room. He could practically feel the tension bleeding out of his partner as the journalists disappeared from view.

"Sorry." Matt muttered as they headed down the hallway. "I shouldn't've yelled at them."

"You had good reason. Dealing with the media was by far my least favourite part of preparing for Kerberos, even compared to the high-G training and the confined quarters tests." That, at least, got a chuckle out of Matt, much to Shiro's relief. "I mean, in the first one, at least there was no one there to see me throw up, and the second one I was stuck with you, so it wasn't all that bad."

Matt was smiling now, at least a little, and it was a lot better than the pain and aggravation he'd been wearing before, so Shiro counted it as a victory. "Yeah, I'm definitely with you there. Doing the social media was fine. Press conferences not so much. Do you think being a vulture is a requirement to get a job as a journalist, or is that just the kind of person who does that job?" He didn't even try to hide the disgust in his tone, smile falling away again. "They wanted to know all the little gory detail about the Galra prisons, the labour camp, what happened to each of us..." He pressed a palm over the left side of his face, trying to cover the four long parallel scars and the whiteness of his blind eye. "And this sure as hell didn't help."

Shiro winced in sympathy. He'd gotten asked at least three times about the scar on his face, and considered himself lucky that they'd all been wearing their armor for show, which concealed his prosthetic entirely. It may not be the original Galra-made one anymore, thank god, but that didn't mean he wanted to think about why he had it at all. Heaving a sigh, he palmed open the door to the observation lounge that had become the communal bedroom. None of the others were in evidence, so he set to work stripping off his armor and changing back into his usual clothing, stacking the armor neatly off to the side where he could grab it later.

When he turned around again Matt was sitting on one of the couches, left leg stretched out across the cushions as he gazed out the window at the desert below. He wore a pensive frown, eyes distant. Hesitating for a moment, Shiro joined him, pulling the bad leg carefully into his lap and massaging around his knee through the fabric. They'd been standing for hours, and it was probably sore, and the soft sigh Matt let out confirmed the guess. "Penny for your thoughts?" Shiro asked in a low voice.

There was such a long pause he thought maybe the other hadn't heard him, and he was about to ask again when Matt finally spoke. "I was just thinking about what the press conference would have been like if the Galra had never taken us."

Shiro's breath caught in his throat. He usually tried to avoid thinking about what-ifs. What if they hadn't been taken, what if his attempt to protect Matt hadn't been enough, what if Ulaz had never helped him escape and sent him back to Earth, setting off the chaotic chain of events that led to where they were now. They were too painful, laced with fears and regrets and the stuff of nightmares. What if they'd gotten to complete the mission and come home...he swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

"There wouldn't have been so many journalists, I don't think, even for mankind's most distant manned mission ever." Matt continued, talking almost to himself more than Shiro. "Ice samples aren't exactly exciting news." His breath carried the ghost of a laugh, entirely without humor, and Shiro knew he'd been thinking of the the conversation they'd been having just before the Galra warship appeared in the dark skies of Kerberos. If he'd known then what fate had in store, maybe he would have been able muster up a little more enthusiasm for what would be the last 'normal' moment of his life.

Another slow, soft breath, barely audible in the quiet of the room. "We'd be holding the conference in the big press room at the Garrison, or maybe one of the lecture theatres so all the camera people would have a good view. And Dad would have been talking up a storm. He wouldn't care that nobody else found it as exciting as we did. He always had a way of talking about science that could make even the most boring things, like rock samples and meteorite fallout patterns, sound like the coolest thing in the world. He'd have been so excited to tell everyone all about everything we found, every new clue it gave us about life and the stars and everything in between…"

Shiro felt Matt shudder under his hands and realized, like a punch to the gut, that the other was fighting back tears. "H-He deserved to come home, Takashi. He worked so hard, for us, for Kerberos, for me...he…" A shaky breath pulled into rattling lungs, the exhale almost a sob. "He should've been the one to come home." Not me, the words sat heavy in the air between them.

"No, Matt." Shiro gasped out, the very idea sending a shock of white-hot terror running right through him. Twisting, he wrapped his arms around Matt and pulled him into his lap. He could feel his boyfriend trembling against him as he buried his face in the soft orange hair. "He should've gotten to come home, yeah. He didn't deserve what happened to him. Neither of you did. But you deserve to come home too."

Hands clutched at his arms, Matt's breath coming in sharp gasps as he waged a losing battle against his emotions. Shiro held him tighter, his mind rebelling at the thought of Matt dying under a Galra guard's gun, Sam, scarred and broken and the one they found on the Icebringers' ship, I'm so sorry, Katie, your brother is gone, the man he loved being gone forever, lost to the distant stars. "You deserve to be alive, Matt." He breathed hoarsely. His chest ached, bursting with grief for Sam's death and sorrow for Matt's pain and guilt and shame for the fact that he couldn't help being glad that if only one of them could survive, it had been Matt who'd come back to him after two long, harrowing years. "I'm so sorry."

"T-They just...they just shot him, Takashi…" Matt choked the words out through his tears. "They shot him and dragged him away like...like he was nothing, and then he was gone, just like that, and I just…" His body heaved with a desperate inhalation, curling in itself in Shiro's lap in a way that tore at his heart. "I just miss him so much…"

"I know." Shiro's voice cracked as he held Matt closer, vainly trying to offer whatever meager comfort he could against the sheer crushing weight of his boyfriend's grief and the agony of his memories, helpless to alter the past or take away his pain. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

00000000

"Ah! Number seven! Might I have a moment of your time? It's not urgent."

Pidge groaned, not looking up from her laptop as her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Ugh. Why'd you have to update that when Alejandro and Kurogane joined the team? Being number five was bad enough." She sighed, tapping a couple more keys, then finally glanced up at the Altean leaning against the doorway. "What's up?"

Coran chuckled. "I'm told you have an interesting theory about what became of one of the old paladins after they left with the Lions. I thought I'd better come hear it for myself."

"Oh, that. Uh, sure." Saving her work, she waved him in and gestured for him to find himself a seat in the chaos of her room. It was messy, but comfortable and familiar, which she'd desperately needed after that endless press interview earlier. Peace and quiet and time to herself had done wonders to put her back in a happier frame of mind. "Have a seat. How much did Allura tell you?"

The Altean hummed, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "Some, but I wanted to get the full reasoning from yourself as well. I've often wondered what became of them after they left Altea and hid the lions, whether they survived and went into hiding or were eventually captured and killed like the others. If your theory is correct, well...it would be a relief to know that at least one of them made it."

Pidge stared at him for a moment, hearing the note of sadness in his voice as he spoke. Right. He'd known them too, probably even better than Allura since he worked with the paladins directly as King Alfor's advisor. Not to mention Alfor himself. Even if neither he or Allura had ever said it outright, she was pretty sure there was more there than simply being coworkers. She caught the loneliness in his eyes as he picked up one of her gadgets to examine and quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks burn as though she'd see something she wasn't supposed to. "Um, right." She closed her laptop and set it aside, picking up one of the puffballs she'd adopted from the space trash heap and running her fingers through the soft fur and getting a delighted trill in response. "Well, Allura was telling us about the original paladins and their apprentices, and she mentioned the Green apprentice was a Galra named Marmora. She said that she even tried to rally other Galra to oppose Zarkon when he started taking over other worlds."

"That is correct, yes. She was furious at the betrayal, and at her people's loss of honour in following him. I don't know that she ever found more than a handful of Galra who were willing to oppose him, however." He sighed. "Zarkon was quick to make examples out of those who did."

"Why doesn't that surprise me…" Pidge muttered. The Empire's propaganda and loyalty machine had to start somewhere, after all. "Anyway...I think she must've found some and gone on to found the Blades of Marmora with them." She straightened up, ignoring the puff's chirp of protest, and started ticking off points on her fingers. "The Blades are all about information. Their weapons have a Galran rune that means 'nerve'. When Kolivan sent out an emergency signal using the blades, the sigil lit up green. And I don't know how common the name Marmora was for Galra ten thousand years ago, but the chances of there being two different Galra with the same name who both organized other Galra to work against Zarkon? Doesn't seem very likely to me."

Coran hummed thoughtfully, twisting one end of his moustache. "It's certainly an intriguing theory, I have to admit."

She caught the note of hesitation in his voice and frowned. "You don't sound convinced."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "All the evidence certainly points to the conclusion you reached, Pidge. I'm certainly not faulting your logic there. But I'm afraid I do have some reservations. Namely that the Blades of Marmora operate on stealth and secrecy, and the second Green Paladin, Marmora, was about as subtle as a charging glyptev!"

"...So not subtle at all then, I take it."

"Not in the slightest. I can show you, if you like." Coran pushed himself to his feet, offering her a hand up.

Pidge accepted the hand and let him pull her up, shifting the puff to her shoulder. "Memories? Like the one you showed Lance and Alejandro?" She felt a thrill of excitement running through her. Sure they'd all seen glimpses of the things Allura and Coran knew from their past, at least up until the incident with the corrupted crystal, but this was totally different. Specific memories of people and places from long ago, events that Coran had personally witnessed. No way could she pass up a chance to see more of what Altea had been like, a society that had created the Castle of Lions and Voltron.

The Altean chuckled as they headed out into the corridor. "Yes. There have been quite a few memories of the first and second paladins among the memories I've already sorted and stored." His eyes twinkled as he glanced down at her. "I rather suspected you would be interested in learning more about your predecessors."

"You know me too well." She laughed. Shortly they'd left the more well-travelled areas of the Castle behind for the quieter areas. So much of the ship was like this, echoing emptily, but that's what happened when you had only ten people living in a ship meant for hundreds. Before long the doors of the holoprojection chamber were whirring open in front of them, and she stroked the puff idly as Coran stepped up to the control panel.

A moment later she jumped as the metal walls vanished, replaced by the smaller space of the training room's control booth. A few feet away from them, another Coran stood at the window. While this one looked much less weary and worn than her own Coran, there was still a hint of sadness in the lines of his face, and she didn't think he was all that much younger. Beside him, a Hylathian-Ilexam, the original green paladin, she thought-sat in a hover chair, looking out over the the training room floor with an exasperated expression.

Curious, Pidge stepped up beside them to see what they were looking at, peering over the top of the console.

Down below, a lone figure was sparring bare-handed with three unarmed training bots. Dressed in a black bodysuit that resembled the undersuit of paladin armor and emphasized her bulky frame, almost as broad in the shoulders as Kolivan, the blue-furred Galra bared her teeth in a snarl and lunged at the closest bot with a swipe of her claws. The bot danced backwards and Marmora followed, grabbing and missing at her opponent.

She was so focused on her chosen target that she completely missed the other two bots closing in from behind until a roundhouse kick in her side sent her tumbling, assisted by a punch to the side of the head. The Galra lay for a moment, stunned, then struggled to her feet with an expression of outrage on her face. Another headlong charge met with no more success than the previous attempt and the bots sent her flying once more.

In the control booth, Ilexam groaned and dragged his hands down his face, short silvery headfins drooping. "What am I going to do with her…"

"Perhaps she'll improve with practice?" Memory-Coran offered, wincing at another yelp of pain from down below.

"One can only hope." Ilexam grumbled. "I'm almost afraid of what will happen when she joins the diplomacy classes with Fiorin and Torlast."

There was a pause as they watched Marmora hurl one of the bots across the room, only to be tackled by the other two. "...Perhaps we'll hold off on that for now. Have one of the guard captains train her on tactics and armed combat. What form does her bayard take?"

"A grenade launcher." There was despair in the Hylathian's voice as he turned his hover chair away from the window.

The Altean had the grace to look appalled as he patted the paladin on the shoulder. "Well, giving her time and patience is the best advice I can offer, I'm afraid. She may yet surprise you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have a meeting to get to…"

The projection froze on the image of Coran heading for the door, the playback over. Pidge gave her own Coran a stunned look. "A grenade launcher? Man, you weren't kidding about subtlety not being her strong point…"

Coran laughed and nodded vigorously. "Not at all. Although, her bayard's form did turn out to be more versatile than we initially realized. It could produce many different types of grenades from fragmentation to flash-bangs." He sighed, studying the frozen image of the young Galra woman, caught mid-punch. "While subtlety was not Marmora's strongest suit, she was also aware that that was not where her skill lay. In the end she worked quite well with her team, because she was not afraid to admit that another might be better suited for a given task. She had her roles to fill and so did they."

Huh. That made more sense. Pidge was beginning to understand what Malrento had meant about the characteristics of certain quintessence colours taking different forms for different people. Curiosity and courage and communication. For Ilexam, learning about the universe, voyaging beyond the confines of his native environment, and giving voice to his concerns and asking for advice. For Marmora, not being afraid to admit weakness or ask for help. For Pidge, facing the dangers of war, and being determined to survive to see her future. All different, and yet all alike at the same time.

She hummed thoughtfully and climbed up to sit on the console beside Coran. "Can you show me anything else? Like the other paladins and apprentices? Oh, or how the lions were made, I mean I've always wondered how you-"

"Slow down there, number seven!" Coran chuckled, holding up a hand to forestall further questions. "It would be my pleasure to show you more, but one thing at a time!" His fingers flew over the keyboard, the training room control booth vanishing, and he paused to tap his fingers against his chin for a moment. "Now...what to show you...ah, I have just the thing!" A few more keystrokes and their surroundings changed once more.

A vast blue sky arched overhead, broken only by the distant silver band of an artificial ring low on the horizon. Underfoot, a smooth stone pathway, bordered by colourful flowers, led from a wall some distance away toward the Castle of Lions up ahead, with cross-paths intersecting it at intervals and winding off into the gardens. Coran, face clear of any lines of sadness for all he didn't look any younger than in the previous memory, was walking along with an Altean man who didn't look much older than Allura and making notations on a data tablet as they went.

"...so it seems to me as though you'll be an excellent fit amongst the engineering staff, Fiorin. In addition to the Castle itself, we maintain several different classes of travel pods, shuttles, and other craft, as well as-"

His next words were drowned out by a deafening roar overhead. A shadow passed over the pair as a red blur shot low over their heads, making the younger Altean yelp and duck, circling the Castle before disappearing into one of the hangars in the engine spires. Fiorin gaped after it in astonishment, slowly uncurling from his defensive crouch. "What in the name of the first stars was that?!"

"That," Coran chuckled, "Is one of the other machines you'll be working with. The Red Lion of Voltron. Come." He strode forward, waving a hand for the other to follow. "I'll introduce you to Kobar and Red first, then I'll show you the others."

It didn't take them long to reach the familiar doors to the Red Lion's hangar. When the doors whirred open, there was no Olkari paladin to be seen, but Fiorin didn't seem to mind, staring up at the silent colossus of the Red Lion with undisguised awe. "Wow...I'd heard of the Lions, but even when I applied to work at the Castle, I never expected…" He trailed off, topaz eyes bright as he gazed at the machine. Coran's expression was fondly amused as he watched the younger Altean get his fill of the sight.

Which is why Fiorin was the first to notice when the Lion's eyes flashed to gold, stiffening in surprise even before Red roared and stepped toward them.

Coran's startled exclamation was drowned out by the thud of metal on metal as the Red Lion moved closer and crouched down directly in front of them. She put out her head and very, very carefully nudged the frozen Fiorin with her nose. The young man held very still, glancing over at Coran in terror. "W-what's going on? Why is she doing this?"

There was a pause as the older tried to gather his wits. "I think…" He said slowly, gazing at the Lion as though he'd suddenly never seen it before. "I think it may mean that you're not going to be an engineer here after all. Instead..." He took a deep breath. "I think you're going to be a paladin."

Pidge frowned as the playback ended. "Hold up. Didn't Allura say Fiorin was the blue apprentice?"

"He was." Coran nodded quietly. "Which I expect is why Red did not drop her ramp for him. My belief is that she recognized him as part of a viable set, the same way the Yellow Lion did when he first awoke in front of King Alfor. In reacting to him, she connected to the rest of his set, and the other lions sensed their paladins among them."

"Guess that makes sense, since they're all connected…" She laughed. "Must've been pretty confusing though. How long did it take to figure out he was Blue's paladin and not Red's?"

As she glanced over at him, she caught a flash of sadness in his eyes and her own smile dropped before he could conceal it behind his usual cheerful expression. He sighed as he noticed her gaze and gave her a tired smile. "Longer than you might expect. Something else happened that took precedence for a time over even the discovery of a new set of paladins."

"What happened?" She swung her feet back and forth against the console. Something had happened between those two memories to put lines of sadness around the old Altean's eyes. "If you don't mind me asking, I mean, it's not really any of my business, but if you wanna talk about it…" She trailed off awkwardly, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She wasn't good at offering comfort, or dealing with feelings.

Coran chuckled, a soft, tired sound. "No, it's quite alright, Pidge. I've had time to come to terms with it. What happened was the death of Allura's mother, Linnata."

Pidge's mouth dropped open in shock and guilt swirled in her chest. Why hadn't it ever occurred to her to wonder what had happened to Allura's mom? She only ever talked about her father. How long ago had it happened? How young had she been when she lost her?

Turning back to the console, Coran called up the image of an Altean woman. Long indigo hair draped around her shoulders in curling waves, and emerald eyes with pink pupils sparkled with the small, secretive smile she wore. Her markings were soft copper swirls on her tanned cheeks. Pidge could see the resemblance to Allura, both in appearance and in the quiet dignity with which she carried herself.

"Linnata was an incredible woman." Coran smiled fondly as he gazed at the image. "One of the most powerful amvel nayeta on record. It was she who devised and led the rituals that infused the Lions with pure elemental quintessence and breathed life into them."

"She created the Lions?" Pidge breathed, gazing at the projection with new respect and more than a little awe.

"Mhm. Unfortunately, doing so had some unexpected...consequences."

She glanced up at him again, silently waiting for him to continue.

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, his expression sorrowful. "In crafting the Lions, her quintessence became linked to theirs permanently, the same way Allura's is now. She would have been able to pilot them in an emergency, although thankfully such a situation never arose. However, the rituals also placed an incredible strain on her from which she never truly recovered, and when the connection to a new set of paladins rippled through the bond...her body could not take it, and she collapsed." He shuddered, fingertips digging into the console. There was a helplessness in his tone that shook her to her core, a heaviness from a loss that he obviously still felt deeply. "There was nothing we could do to save her."

Guilt welling up in her throat at bringing up something so painful, Pidge jumped down from the console and threw her arms around Coran's middle in a tight hug, trying to offer what comfort she could. She felt his arms encircle her in return after a moment, his breath shuddering in his chest under her cheek. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I shouldn't have asked."

Coran heaved a slow sigh and patted her shoulder, and she pretended not to see him wipe his glove across his eyes as he stepped back. "It's quite alright. I expect it would have come up sooner or later if you wanted to learn about how the Lions were made."

"Still, you didn't have to talk about it if you didn't want to."

"No more secrets about the Lions or their paladins." Coran said firmly. "I promised myself that after the debacle regarding the blue aspect. The more you all know, the easier it will be to avoid surprises. Now," he turned to the console again and the still-smiling figure of Linnata vanished, taking the painful subject firmly with it. "Why don't I show you how the Green Lion was made?"