Only one chapter until the Iron Rain, people.
1/29/18: Completely re-wrote and overhauled the chapter. Instead of occuring the day before the Iron Rain, Lorn and Shiro's conversation takes place the morning of the battle. I went into more detail on the war preparations, and added in one last conversation with Tactus. The chapters focusing on the Siege of Mars will be updated over the next few days to take into account Tactus' presence and the effects of what happens at the new end of the chapter.
Chapter 27: War:
Pax Hangar Bay
Martian Orbit
February 22nd, 2841
"Power is the crown that eats the head," the Jackal had once told Darrow as they planned the invasion. Mustang's brother had been speaking about Octavia, but Shiro knew that the truth reached farther than that. These Golds had had power for so long, and now they jumped at the chance for war. They had come from near and far, ships racing to join the Reaper's armada as they learn that Darrow has called for the first Iron Rain in twenty years. Darrow had used his secret alliance with the Jackal to spread the news, along with footage of Pliny's fall. Many of these Golds, Shiro noticed in the eighteen days leading up to the invasion, were second sons and daughters who wouldn't inherit their parents' estates. They were warmongers and glory-hungry duelists, each bringing their Gray and Obsidian attendants.
The worlds of the Society waited anxiously to see what would happen today. If they lost, Octavia would rule on. And if we win, Shiro reminded himself, the solar system will spiral into civil war. No world in the system can stand apart from this. The Black Paladin was still uneasy about the lowColors who would inevitably be killed in the crossfire, but he kept himself going with the knowledge that this civil war was the only way to truly weaken Gold's power. Legions were marshalling within the Pax as the Reaper's armada gathered around the moon of Phobos. Bellona and the Sovereign's local fleets lay between the Augustan alliance and the formerly red planet. The Ash Lord was coming from the Core to provide reinforcements, but the Scepter Armada was still a week away. His fleet would be useless to the Bellona today.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Shiro was awed as he looked out the hangar bay. In his time, Mars had been a barren red rock, inhospitable and unable to support human life in the long term despite the Garrison's promises to colonize and terraform the planet. Now the fourth planet from the sun was a jewel of green and blue, like the Earth in miniature. Its white polar icecaps remained unchanged by Gold's terraforming, but the planet was now pocked with shielded cities, and blue oceans stretched along the equator. He'd seen images of the surface below coated with thick forests and fields of grass. And he knew from tactical briefings that gun stations sat out in the deserts and around the cities, where ship-killing railguns aimed skyward. For all their brutality, he mused to himself. Gold did a lot more to push humanity to the stars than the Garrison.
In the last two weeks, as Golds rallied to their fleet, the Black Paladin noticed something that would have been almost unheard of back on Luna. He and Tactus had been eating breakfast a week ago in the lowColor galley like they had been doing since Europa. But as they made small talk with the Oranges and Reds who served aboard the ship, he noticed that there were other Golds in the room as well. He'd immediately put his guard up, confused as to why the Aureate soldiers weren't spending their morning eating in the mess hall specifically designated for their luxury and comfort. Yet as he'd listened in to their conversation, he was struck by how casual it sounded. They were speaking with Blues and Greens and others of the lower castes as if they were equals, rather than subordinates.
Intrigued, the Paladin had kept quiet and listened to the drone of conversation further as realization began to dawn on him. While the Golds who'd come to join the Augustan armada didn't understand why Darrow would do such things as let a Blue command his warship, Darrow's reputation for success had led these Golden warriors to follow the Reaper's example. And as these Golds mingled with the lower classes they'd been raised to subjugate, friendships were being made, and minds were beginning to change. Within a few days of the invasion, Shiro was hearing some of the Golds who once considered themselves traditionalists whispering that they agreed with Mustang's views on the hierarchy. It was starting to make the time traveler wonder how many of these ruling elite might side with Darrow if the Reaper ever went public with his true origins.
The forward hangar bay on the Pax was a massive cave in the belly of the ship crawling with men and women of all Colors. Six hundred meters long, with hundreds of spitTubes on its left side, each row accessed by a network of giant causeways where troops in starShells could walk. Thousands stood ready to disperse, grouped according to legion. The alarm for battle stations warbled throughout the ship. Orion's voice rasped over the intercom. Beyond the hull, Roque, now the youngest Imperator in a century, would be breaking the armada into fleets to engage the Bellona over Mars. Squadrons of ripWings and Wasps poured forth, Blues flying to their deaths with Gold squadron leaders in their midst. All to carve a hole large enough for the leechcraft to swarm onto enemy hulls.
Some Praetors would hoard their soldiers to fight off the weaves of enemies that made it aboard their ships, while others launched full attacks. It was a gamble either way, but as much as he wanted to take command of the situation himself like he used to when he was flying the Black Lion, it wasn't Shiro's job to think about that right now. The space battle was Victra, Roque, Quinn, and Orion's responsibility. Shiro and the others had their own. He floated through the air with Milia au Trachus, one of the students from Darrow's army, helping Mustang organize today's troop operations. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Darrow and Sevro talking in the upper levels of the hangar bay.
Suddenly, he saw Sevro hop up onto a banister and howl at the top of his lungs. Shiro smirked and howled back, along with everyone else in the hangar bay. The howl came from Grays. It came from Obsidians, from Oranges, from Reds working on final spitTube maintenance checks. It even came from the Golds who had requested transfer to the Reaper's flaghship. And that's when Shiro saw the standards of the legions fall, replaced by something new. Gone were the pyramids of the Society. Gone were the laurel, and the scepter, and the sword, and the scroll. Gone was the lion of House Augustus. Instead, the high golden standards the legions carried into battle were peaked with wolves and slingBlades. These were not Augustus' warriors. These legions were Darrow's, and Darrow's alone.
Shiro felt something buzz in the people around him, like a sort of physical fanaticism. It didn't buzz in Golds quite like this before. They loved the Reaper for the victory and glory he brought them. The other Colors clearly loved Darrow for something far different, far more potent. Any other Gold would have vented the ship. But Darrow didn't because these people chose him instead of the Golds who'd once been their masters. Shiro smiled, knowing that these lowColors fought with such loyalty because Darrow had given them the freedom to make that choice. And Shiro fought for the same reason Darrow did, to weaken Gold's regime and stopple this oppressive caste system from the inside.
The trio landed on the deck of the hangar and found Lorn au Arcos waiting between Darrow and them.
"Good morning, my goodmen," the Olympic Knight greeted the three of them. "I was wondering if I could borrow Terranova for a moment."
"Better hurry, Rage Knight," Mustang replied. "Or your men will fall without you." The Rage Knight laughed before gesturing for Shiro to follow him. The Black Paladin couldn't help but feel nervous as he caught sight of Mustang's concerned glance as the old man led him out of the hangar into a small storage room. When the door closed the door behind them, Shiro heard the pop of a jamField activating. Once they were alone, Arcos began to speak.
"I did not wish to discuss this in front of prying eyes," the former Rage Knight commented as he leaned against the door. "But I would like to get a look at that arm of yours before the Rain." Shiro was concerned now. He had no idea where Arcos was going with this. He didn't want anyone to figure out that he wasn't really a Gold. But on the other hand, refusing wasn't an option right now and doing so would only arouse further suspicion. So, he reluctantly raised his right arm and demonstrated its features by melting the metal on one of the shelves in the storeroom.
"Remarkable," the old man observed as the pink glow faded from Shiro's mechanical hand. "Stories about this have been in my family for generations, but I never believed they were true." Now the Black Paladin was confused.
"Believed what, Lord Arcos?" Shiro asked hesitantly. The Olympic Knight smirked at him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Come now, young man," the Rage Knight remarked. "My family has looked to the stars since the days of Galaxy Garrison. Do you really think I wouldn't recognize Galra technology when I see it?" Shiro stiffened in shock. Whatever he'd been expecting the man to say, this wasn't it. How did he know? Lorn chuckled at Shiro's flabbergasted expression before offering the Black Paladin a smile that could only be described as reassuring.
"Stories of my ancestor's career as the Yellow Paladin of Voltron have been passed down through my family for generations," Lorn explained. "The family had an old journal full of old photographs and his writings. For much of my life, I believed those stories were nothing more than fairytales invented to sooth my great-great-I lost track of how many times-great-grandparents during the long voyage from Luna to Mars. Even the time I tried to eat stone, I thought my mother's comment about being part Balmeran to be nothing more than a private joke."
"And now?" Shiro asked tentatively, wary of how Arcos would respond.
"I knew something about you looked familiar when we first met on Europa," The old man continued. "But I couldn't put my finger on it until your arm lit up when I tried to kill that friend of yours, Rath. You can imagine my surprise when I looked back at the old photos in my ancestor's journal and realized I'd been in the presence of living proof that those old stories were true." Without thinking, Shiro turned and gave the old man a hug. Talking about his adventures with Mustang and the others helped ease the pain of being separated from the rest of the team, but that wasn't the same as finally having a real, tangible connection to his past. Even if Hunk and the others had been dead for over centuries now, the fact that their descendants kept their memory alive even in a society such as this broke down a barrier in his heart.
"Sorry," Shiro apologized as he finally calmed down, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "It's just that after being stuck her for so long, I've felt like a stranger in this era. And as great as it is being able to share things with Mustang, Darrow, and the others…"
"It's not the same thing as having a tangible connection to your past," Lorn finished as he put a comforting hand on the Black Paldin's shoulder. "I can imagine how that feels. But you'll see them again. I have an old journal full of your old adventures to prove it." Shiro sucked in a breath as he dared to let himself hope. Mustang's research into possible means of getting him back to his own era had been forcibly stalled when they fled Luna. Joining Darrow's crusade had kept him from slipping into despair, but he had begun to give up hope of ever seeing his team again.
"Do you think I could take a look once the battle's over?" he asked, fighting back tears so that the Golds around him wouldn't see him crying as he went into battle. After stumbling forward blindly, he now had tangible proof that he would make it home alive.
"Of course," Arcos replied with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice breaking as he wiped his eyes. "I needed that."
"No need to be so formal with me, young man," Lorn commented with a smile. "Just call me Lorn. Now, I know you have more questions, but those can wait until after the battle is over. I merely assumed that giving you a reason to hope again would give you an incentive to stay alive today."
"Well you definitely gave me a reason to keep fighting," Shiro replied with a smile before Lorn deactivated the jamField and led the way back to the hangar. For the first time since the battle with Zarkon, the dying embers of hope had been rekindled into a roaring flame. Lorn bid him farewell before heading off to his own ship before the battle began. Shiro made his way up to his assigned spitTube when he found Tactus waiting at the bottom of the metal stairs.
"Are you ready to finally strike at Lune's reign?" Tactus drawled lazily. Despite his apparent disinterest, the unspoken message was clear. Are you ready to finally strike at the hierarchy?
"I've been waiting four gorydamn months for it," Shiro replied with a chuckle. "Now if only we could get it over with." He wouldn't admit it aloud, but his body was practically shivering in anticipation as he thought about the war to come. There was something deep inside him that hungered for this. The adrenaline. The glory. The catharsis of knowing you lived another day by the strength in your arms alone. But Shiro felt weak as he prepared to abandon his morals for humanity's darker impulses. It wasn't as though he couldn't do it. He'd done it before as the Champion in the arena. It was what would come afterward that scared him. He still remembered Mustang's lecture, but however much he agreed with her in his head, his heart had a hard time accepting her words as true when it seemed like the universe itself kept trying to prove her wrong.
"Prime, my goodman. Gorydamn prime," Tactus commented. Despite the jovial tone of the conversation, Tactus's face told a different story. The man clearly saw through Shiro's mask and looked like he wanted to say something but was unsure of how to bring it up. "Well, I just wanted to remind you to be careful with yourself out there. Potential for paradoxes aside, you would be missed if you got shot down out there."
"Thanks," he responded as they walked together towards the ladder leading to the upper causeways. "Nice to know someone will care." Despite the feigned sarcasm in his voice, Shiro meant what he said. He still deeply missed the rest of Team Voltron, but it was comforting to know that he still had people watching his back, even here.
"Good," Tactus remarked. "Good. Now, from all your tales of Voltron, I know you tend to be protective of everyone around you to the point of self-sacrifice. So, I have one last thing to say to you." And with that, the Rath leaned forward and brought his lips to Shiro's. The Black Paladin froze, caught off guard by the unexpected lip-lock. It only lasted for a second, but in his head, time seemed to flow at an infinitesimal fraction of its normal pace. When the kiss ended, Shiro could only blink in surprise.
"Don't you quiznaking dare go dying on me," the Gold said, his voice firm with a tone of command. And then he was gone, bounding up on gravBoots towards his own spitTube, leaving the preColor time traveler standing at the foot of the ladder in stunned silence.
It's unknown whether humans and Balmerans can have hybrid babies in canon, but since it's possible for humans and Galra to have children together (Keith – even if his DNA isn't fully 50% Galra, someone on his mom's side of the family was at some point – being proof of that), then for the purposes of this fic, I'm considering the same true for Balmerans. So yeah, Lorn is a descendant of Hunk and Shay. I toyed with the idea of having one of the Red Rising characters turn out to be a descendant of one of the Paladins, and I eventually settled on Lorn au Arcos to give Shiro a reason to interact with him.