Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or anything else that belongs to WEP or Paramount. What I do own are the crew of the Berlin, (except for Mordock and Scotty), the fighter, Thunderwing, and the story itself.

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers

Chapter 3

Captain Driscoll scanned his instruments for the fiftieth time. Speed, warp three. Reactor normal, coolant in the green, drop tanks half empty.

And he was bored as hell.

Driscoll had been tailing the fighters ahead of him for three hours now, trying to find out where they were launching their attacks from. At first, he'd expected to run into a battleship just outside the system. But when there was none, and the fighters doglegged off, he began to think his guess might have been right, and that the fighters that attacked Arus were not always part of a fleet squadron. He'd been checking the charts he had for this sector of space, and there were almost a dozen possible places that these fighters could be headed. He'd narrowed that down a bit as the fighters passed some worlds, or changed course so that others became less likely.

He'd also had time to formulate his plan. Even though the fighters couldn't see him, it was a safe bet that whatever base they were headed to would have much better sensors, and he'd be the subject of a lot of attention pretty quickly. He planned to do one pass, run a series of scans, and get the hell out before the welcoming committee arrived. Not exactly his specialty, but for his plane, it was old hat. Back in 1945, Thunderwing had been an F-6 photo-recon Mustang. A camera bird, not a fighter.

"Walk in the park for you, eh, old girl?" he asked softly. To his bored mind, the engine almost seemed to thrum a little stronger for a second, as though the plane was answering him. Like many pilots, Driscoll felt a strong affinity for his plane, considering it as close a friend as any human, and just as alive.

His reverie was broken by a beep from the holographic console in front of him. He was approaching a planet. Checking his navigation, he found that he was in the Citrine system, the planet ahead of him was identified as Citrine II. The lack of a name for the planet indicated that it was either uninhabited, or claimed as a colony by another planet.

Hmm. Uninhabited planet… Good place for a strike base, he thought. He checked the fighters on the screen, and saw that they were still holding formation. Maybe the base hadn't seen him yet. That would give him the time he needed for his one pass. It was a safe bet that the fighters he was tailing wouldn't turn on him. Not after the pasting they'd gotten from the Berlin, anyway. As long as the Doomies didn't have any other fighters or capital ships airborne in the vicinity, it would be a cakewalk.

He followed the fighters in, staying in their sensor shadow as much as possible, and approaching the planet as quietly as he could. Wouldn't do to give them any more warning than he had to.

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"Commander Kozal, our strike force is returning," a robot guard reported.

"How many are left?" Kozal asked. Kozal was a tall, thick-set man with close-cropped white hair. Unlike some Drule commanders, Kozal knew his business. A veteran of thirty years in the Drule military, he'd seen action against the Alliance on more than twenty worlds. He'd earned his command the hard way, through discipline, sacrifice, and genuine achievement.

"Seventeen, sir," the sensor operator reported.

Kozal sighed. Besides his reputation as an exemplary soldier, he was also known as a commander who took care of his men. He expected much of them, but rewarded them well when they lived up to his grueling expectations. He knew every time he sent fighters to Arus, that most wouldn't come back. He'd known that the first time he sent a squadron. It wasn't that he minded ordering soldiers to certain death. That was a part of military life. What he minded was doing it over and over for no apparent reason, as Lotor had him doing now. But he would follow his orders.

"Commander, I'm reading another fighter with them," the guard said.

"What?" Kozal demanded, looking at the sensor display over the guard's shoulder.

"Small fighter, class unknown. Database identifies as Thunderwing."

"Thunderwing?" Kozal paused, recalling what he knew of the fighter. "Are there any Lions with it?"

"No, sir. It is alone."

Kozal nodded. What was the fighter doing here? No Lions, no starships in the area, so why was Driscoll here? "Continue to monitor. Have Fighter Base One ready a squad of fighters for launch."

"Yes, sir."

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Approaching the planet's atmosphere, Driscoll adjusted his heat shielding and stood ready to activate his propeller. He'd make his pass from about 45,000 feet and 300 miles per hour. That would make it easy for his sensors to get all the data he needed. Now all he had to do was find the base.

He hit the atmosphere just behind the fighters and rode down toward the planet's surface. As of now, the clock was ticking.

He slowed his descent at 75,000 feet, and came out of the fireball at 60,000. The fighters were far below and ahead of him now. They'd obviously seen him and were racing for the base, which presumably had some kind of defensive weapons.

Closing out his holographic displays, Driscoll activated his propeller, setting power for 45 inches of mercury and 2,300 rpm on the prop. He checked his instruments, seeing all readings satisfactory, and turned to follow the enemy fighters. It wasn't long before he saw the base, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

The only word to describe the base was monstrous. Near the main building, which was more of a fortress, there were no less than eight airfields arrayed in an octagon with the fortress in the center. Hundreds of fighters were parked at each airfield. Farther out were at least a dozen landing fields for large vessels, and each one was almost full. Scattered among the airfields were various support buildings and barracks. More such buildings and control centers were arrayed around the landing fields in another ring. Beyond this were industrial and production areas.

Driscoll muttered a Klingon curse and set up his run. Forget one run, it'd take at least three to get all this. He checked the airfields, then changed his plans. Judging by the activity he saw down on the northernmost one, it looked like he'd been noticed. He'd have to be quick.

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"Enemy fighter crossing overhead, Commander," the sensor operator said. "He does not seem to be preparing to attack."

Kozal found this odd. Thunderwing and her pilot had a reputation for aggressive tactics. This new tack was perplexing. What was the fighter up to?

"Have the fighters at Base One stand by. Do not launch until I command it."

"Yes, sir."

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Having passed over the base once to check it out, Driscoll picked a path that would give him the best look at the installation, and came in on his run. "Okay, Thunder, we know how this goes, don't we? Nice and easy, now," he muttered, keying in his sensors. Holding the plane steady, he crossed over the base, every sensor he had pointed down at the base, gathering as much data as he could.

Completing his run, he looked at the northern airfield again, and saw that although the fighters were powered up, it didn't look like they were coming up. He wished he had some bombs or rockets to use to properly announce his visit.

But then, an idea struck him. He turned toward the airfield and nosed over, accelerating quickly as he readied his phasers, activated his gunsight, and turned on some classic rock. As "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" played in his earphones, he set up his attack run. This would be a tricky move with two drop tanks under his wings.

He dove down toward the base at a thirty degree angle, the best he could do if he wanted to keep his wings on the pullout. Closing in on the base at nearly the speed of sound, he put his gunsight on the first line of fighters, waited until it filled his gunsight, and squeezed the trigger. As the Devil's fiddle solo played, his phasers stitched up the line of fighters, one after another catching fire and exploding as pilots fled from nearby fighters and ground crews ran for cover.

With a face-splitting grin, Driscoll looked back over his shoulder as he climbed out, banking toward the base. As he passed 500 feet, every defensive gun the Doom base had opened up. But he was still too low. These batteries were designed to engage threats at much higher altitudes.

Passing over the top of the base, Driscoll did another move that would have earned him a good lecture if Keith had seen it. He made a slow roll as he flew over the fortress, flipping off a couple of robot soldiers he saw on the upper levels. Rolling upright, he put the nose down, accelerating again and dropping to fifty feet, barely high enough to clear the outbuildings.

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"Report!" Kozal demanded. He looked at the display showing the burning fighters at base one as the fire crews tried to fight the blazes.

"We've been scanned heavily," the sensor operator replied. "Base one reports twenty fighters destroyed by direct fire, and at least as many damaged."

Kozal pounded his fist on the console. He'd been a fool not to scramble his fighters at the first. Thunderwing and its pilot were not to be underestimated. But that mistake could be corrected easily enough. "Is our strike force still airborne?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Redirect them. I want that fighter destroyed."

"Yes, sir."

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Streaking away from the base, he quickly reached the outlying industrial areas, and looked around as he flew over. What he saw almost made him turn back for another look. Looking up at him from a catwalk was a young man, barely older than himself. He was dressed in shabby clothes, and was covered in dirt and grime.

A slave.

Not only was this a major Doom base, there was a slave-run industrial sector to it as well. That would make dealing with this base a whole lot more complicated.

He waggled his wings at the slave, hoping he understood the message, then set his fighter on its tail and rocketed into the sky, reaching orbit in only a few moments. He immediately set course for Arus at maximum speed. Keith is gonna freak when he hears about all this, he thought.

Suddenly, he got an odd feeling. Something was very wrong. He looked back, and was shocked to find six fighters tailing him! The same six he'd followed back here.

Normally, he'd have stayed to dish out some punishment, but he'd already pushed his luck far enough. "Hasta lasagna, you blue crackheads." He pushed his throttle forward, leaping into warp speed. The fighters fired their lasers vainly, trying to score a lucky hit. But by the time the polarized energy reached Thunderwing's former location, the Mustang was long gone.

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While Thunderwing was scanning the Doom base and making its escape with the goods, the Voltron Force was catching up on some much-needed rest.

All but one of them.

Princess Allura stood on the balcony off the dining room, looking out toward Olessa, where the evening glow of the lights gave the false impression of a peaceful evening. From the castle, you couldn't see the damage that had been done by the terrorists. Even though Keith called them special ops, to her they were lowly terrorists. The lowest form of militant scum there was.

And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about them. They'd proven that today, when three fighters had struck the Lions and disappeared, and then three more had hit the airfield. People were dying, homes and buildings were being destroyed, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She beat her clenched fist on the railing in frustration as tears welled in her eyes. It wasn't often she allowed herself such outbursts. But at that moment, she no longer cared who knew how she felt. She was frightened and tired and angry. And on top of all that, she felt helpless.

"Your Highness?" someone called gently behind her. Allura didn't have to look to see who it was. She'd know Coran's voice anywhere. The presence of her advisor, foster father, and friend was most welcome now.

"What am I going to do, Coran? Just when everything seemed to be turning around…" she trailed off, staring off into the sky as Coran walked up beside her. "Now all this is happening. What are we to do?"

"What we have been doing, Princess. What we have always done." Coran paused and looked at her. He waited until she looked at him before he continued. "We will face this challenge. We will adapt and carry on, and we will find the answer." Allura nodded. As always, wise Coran had the answer. "Remember, we thought our situation was hopeless after your father died, and for the longest time, it was. But still, we held out that slim hope that we would overcome. Then the boys came, and our world was reborn. Now, Zarkon poses a new challenge."

Allura nodded again. "And we shall answer it," she said with a determination she hadn't felt in many days. She smiled at her advisor. "Thank you, Coran. I needed that." Truthfully, she didn't feel at all better about the situation, but Coran had made a point that she had missed. This wasn't the first time that there seemed to be no way to victory, and allowing herself to lose hope would be playing right into Zarkon's hands.

"You're welcome, Your Highness," Coran replied. "Now I would suggest you get some sleep. There's no telling when this respite will end."

"Yes, Coran," she replied. "I'll just be a few more minutes."

Coran nodded, and left the Princess to her thoughts. She continued to gaze out over the land for a few more minutes, then headed for her chambers. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up with her, and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

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The next morning dawned bright and cool, without a cloud to be seen anywhere in the sky. It was perfect flying weather, and the Voltron Force was taking full advantage of it.

Keith led the Force through a 180-degree tight-formation turn, nodding as he saw everyone was able to keep up. Even Allura, who only a few weeks ago would have found it difficult, barely wavered from her position.

"Okay, guys, evasion pattern delta-three," Keith ordered, "Go!" The lions split, going five different ways, performing a simultaneous chandelle climb with a half-loop at the top, reforming in a loose pentagon formation.

"Good job, everyone, now let's…"

"Geronimo!" Keith was cut off as the cry sliced across his radio. Before he knew what was happening, his lock-on alert screeched in his ears, telling him he was in somebody's sights. He pushed Black Lion into an inhuman twisting loop-over as he shouted, "Everyone break now!"

A silver streak shot through the center of the formation before banking left into a wide, easy turn. "Hoo-ya! You're mine, boss!" Driscoll shouted as Thunderwing formed up on Blue Lion, now minus its drop tanks.

Keith was on a slow burn. Normally, he'd just reprimand Driscoll, but after what had been going on the past few days, he had no patience left. He was tired, frustrated, and very edgy, and he snapped. Black Lion broke hard, attacking Thunderwing from high on the right side.

"Hey, Keith, what'r'ya doin'?" Driscoll asked in shock as he saw a rather large plasma cannon appear on Black Lion's back. His own lock-on alert buzzing, he rolled right and dove out under Keith, who whipped his Lion around quickly to follow. Driscoll broke high, rolling out at the top and diving back down. Keith stayed with him, trying to roll around and get his sights on the Starfleet captain.

"Keith, jeez, man, it was a joke, okay? I'm sorry, now will ya lay off?" Driscoll shouted as he and Keith entered a rolling scissor. Black Lion's tail laser came up and zeroed in on the Mustang.

"Shit!" Driscoll blurted as he pushed over out of the scissor, laser bolts streaking past his cockpit.

"Keith, are you crazy?" Lance asked. "Stop shooting!"

Keith ignored him and kept after Thunderwing. It was time someone showed that hotshot kid some humility.

Driscoll saw Keith approaching in his mirror. What the hell was going on? Why was Keith shooting at him? There was no time to figure it out. He'd have to act fast if he wanted to keep his hide in one piece, and if the Voltron Force captain wanted to play rough, that was fine by Driscoll. "Keep comin', man, that's it."

The Lion and the Mustang raced down. At the last minute, Driscoll pulled up, skimming the treetops. Black Lion dropped to the ground and leapt into the air again, now well behind the fighter.

Driscoll kept easing the throttle forward. He didn't dare dive back yet. Keith would be on him in no time. He saw Keith closing on him. "Yeah, that's it, follow me, Lion-boy. I'll show ya not to mess with this."

As Keith lined up his cannon, Driscoll pulled up to vertical and kicked his rudder hard left, spinning the P-51 away from the Arusian ship as a glowing ball of energy shot by him. Black Lion easily followed the maneuver, but was taken by surprise when Driscoll dropped his flaps and gear and cut his engine power, forcing the Lion to shoot past.

Advancing his throttle and pulling up his gear and flaps, Driscoll pushed his rudder pedal to skid in on Keith, who used his tail laser to line up on Driscoll. They put their sights on each other at the same time, warning bells ringing in both cockpits. "Feelin' lucky, punk?" Driscoll shouted as his finger tensed on the trigger.

"ENOUGH! Both of you!" Allura yelled. Driscoll glanced at the holo-display on his front windscreen and saw Allura's angry visage staring back at him, her eyes burning with anger. "Stop now before you kill yourselves."

Driscoll glanced at Keith, who had also appeared on his screen. The two captains glared at each other a moment longer, then Driscoll rolled hard and broke left, while Keith turned his Lion to the right.

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As the team headed back to the Castle, Lance was in a state of shock. What had just happened? Had he just seen Adam dogfight Keith? Had he actually seen Keith shoot at Adam?

Unseen, far above the melee, Commander Torka watched with marked interest. To a less experienced man, the event might have looked like a simple live-fire drill. But Torka knew what he'd seen for what it was. There was dissention in the ranks of the Voltron Force. Interesting.

And perhaps useful, too, when the time was right.

As the Voltron Force headed home, Torka did the same, turning his ship east. Prince Lotor would be very interested to hear of this development.

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"I want to talk to both of you," Coran said as Adam and Keith arrived in Castle Control. He looked at the others. "Privately."

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge headed for the door, but Allura stayed behind. "You too, Your Highness," said Coran.

"No, Coran. This is my planet, and the Voltron Force answers to me." Allura was just as shocked as the rest of the team, and she would not be kept out of the loop. Not this time.

Coran, for his part, only nodded. The Princess was right. She had a right to know, and she deserved an explanation as well. If her captain and wingman had issues, it put her in danger along with the rest of the team.

The old advisor looked at the pilots before him. "What in the world were you thinking? I want to know what happened up there, and I want to know now." He looked from Keith to Driscoll. "Commander, Captain, I'm waiting."

"There's nothing to explain, Coran," Driscoll said. "I buzzed Keith, he got me back. We're square."

"You were about to blow each other out of the sky!" Allura blurted. "You call that square?"

Coran nodded. "Quite right, Princess." He turned to the two pilots. "Whatever happened between you two, I want to know, now, otherwise you're both grounded."

"You can't do that!" said Keith, his angry eyes challenging the elder statesman.

"But I can," Allura said coldly. She'd just watched her two best friends nearly kill each other, and she wasn't about to put up with a macho cover-up.

Keith thought a moment. What had happened up there? Adam came out of nowhere, buzzed him, and formed up. It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Why had he snapped like that? All Adam had done was a buzz him.

And lock his weapons on…

Yeah, that's what did it. When Adam locked onto Black Lion, that set Keith off. Buzzing was one thing, but when he makes someone think their life is in danger, all for the sake of a joke…

Keith looked at the others. "There's no excuse. I overreacted."

Allura nodded. Se knew that was about all Keith would say about it, and she knew better than to push the issue. Keith was never one to apologize in so many words. Getting him to admit he was wrong was hard enough. Besides, she knew the stress had to be having an effect on him, even if he didn't show it outwardly. She knew from experience that the harder you try to keep everything in, the worse it is when you finally let it out.

Driscoll regarded Keith a moment. "I lost my head, too. Probably wasn't such a hot idea to buzz you like that, either. Sorry, man." He extended his hand, and he and Keith shook. The matter was settled.

Coran sighed. "I know the pressure has been hard on everyone lately. I can't say I'm all that surprised that something like this occurred. But you both should have known better. Keith, what do you think would have happened if you shot Adam down? Or killed him?"

Keith nodded as Coran speared the Captain with a glare. "And you're not innocent, either. With the new fighters that Zarkon is using, and your idiotic idea of locking your weapons onto him, Keith had every reason to believe that you were an enemy fighter making a real attack."

"What new fighters?" Driscoll asked. He'd left to find the Doom base before Keith's report on the new fighters had reached the Berlin.

Keith turned to Driscoll. "I'll fill you in."

Driscoll nodded. "Okay. And I'll show you what I found. And believe you me, it's one helluva find."

Coran cleared his throat. "Very well, then. We shall chalk this one up to pent-up frustrations, which I would suggest you BOTH find better outlets for. Captain, I'd like you to refrain from buzzing any of the others until the current crisis is past. And Commander, if you wish to dogfight with the Captain, I'll ask you to do so with your weapons off-line."

Driscoll and Keith nodded. "Well," Adam said smiling. "I don't think that's gonna happen, unless Keith wants to get his fanny waxed again."

"What do you mean 'again'?" Keith demanded. "I had you."

Adam started for the door. "Keith, I outmaneuvered you, slid in on your six, and had my pipper pointed right up Black's tailpipe. I owned you."

Keith was a step behind him. "And I had my tail laser on you."

"Shields, Keith," Driscoll said as they walked through the door, side-by-side. "I got 'em, you don't."

"Your shields can't stand…" Keith's voice was cut off as the door closed.

Allura rolled her eyes. "Boys," she huffed in exasperation.

Coran wondered if Allura realized how right she was. Even though they had such heavy responsibility, they were still only boys, he realized, and only human. There was no escaping that. And upon occasion, they would and did do stupid things.

"I hope we find an answer to all this soon, Coran," Allura said.

"As do I, Princess. For I fear for all our sakes, if we don't."