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.
RL2: As always, thanks for the support. I thought I had made clear at the end of my last story how the triangle turned out, but this chapter will reinforce it a bit.
Crash: Nice to hear from you again. I actually stole "hasta lasagna" from Mission Impossible (and if anyone who has rights to that is reading this, please don't sue, I know it's not mine). And if you like how it's going so far, just wait until I uncork the big surprises in this one.
Michaelangelo Cornholio: Been a while, but I'm glad to hear from you again as well. Hope you like the way this story goes. I know my notes look good!
So, anyway, on with it...
Star Tron: Hidden Dangers
Chapter 4
Prince Lotor waited expectantly at the foot of Zarkon's throne pedestal. The King of Doom had summoned him here with news from Arus, but the old monarch was simply sitting on his throne, sipping wine and speaking quietly with Haggar.
Finally, the old witch departed, and Zarkon regarded his son with a look of cool indifference. "Well, my son," he said finally. "The Konogg brigade seems to be doing what you could not."
"What do you mean?"
"The Voltron Force is being worn down. Our commandos are hitting their stockpiles and infrastructure, while our spaceborne raids keep the starships off-balance and Konogg Brigade's new masking fighters are hitting the larger targets. A few dozen are doing what your hundreds could not."
Lotor gave his father an evil look. He didn't like having his past failures flung in his face like this, and he had a few barbs of his own to throw. "And how many ships are we losing in these raids? How many hundreds of fighters? How many dozens of cruisers? I've seen those same reports, Father, and we are still losing men and machines. Eighty percent or more on any given raid. And they are still taking down every robeast that Haggar can send at them."
Zarkon speared Lotor with a sharp look. "But you did not see the latest report from Torka. He observed Black Lion and Thunderwing fighting."
Lotor was unimpressed. "An exercise. What of it?" Lotor replied skeptically.
"No. They were actually engaged in true combat. Why they broke off, he isn't sure." Zarkon smiled thinly. "Do you know what that means, my son?"
Lotor glowered darkly at Zarkon, waiting for the king to fill him in.
"The Voltron Force are being pushed to their limits, and they're ready to break. Loss of discipline is only the first symptom. Very soon, they will be wholly unable to resist us. Without them, our robeasts can finish the starships, and then we can strike."
"But they'll have reinforcements, Father. They'll be ready for us to come long before we can break through."
"It won't matter. You, my son, will assemble every ship and fighter you can spare. This will be the largest invasion in our history."
And you have the largest ego in our history, you old fool. Lotor silently mocked. But he knew it was pointless to argue now. There was no way that Torka could continue to succeed as he had. How many times had he, Lotor, had the Voltron Force at his mercy, only for them to enact some miraculous escape. They had annihilated entire fleets of his best ships. They had escaped foolproof traps, and defeated invincible robeasts. And when they beat Torka, he wanted to be there to see the look on his father's face.
But for now, there was nothing he could do, except to comply with his father's orders. So he drew himself to attention, spun on his heel, and left to see to the assembly the fleet.
Zarkon reached for his goblet as he watched his son walk out. Happy with the way the meeting had gone. Lotor actually seemed envious of Torka's accomplishments, which was more than Zarkon had hoped for. And though he was pleased with Torka's progress, Zarkon knew Lotor's misgivings were not unfounded. But until he saw reason to do otherwise, he would let events continue as they were.
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Later that evening, the senior crew of the Berlin met with the Voltron Force in the Castle of Lions. Coran gave the Starfleeters a briefing on the new Doom fighters, which left Scotty scratching his mustache, already going through the list of techniques for detecting cloaked vessels. He, Hunk, and Pidge kept exchanging glances, and all present knew that those three would be working some long hours on the problem.
After Coran's briefing, Driscoll discussed the results of his recon trip. The images he showed of the base brought more than a few awed whistles. Keith's brow furrowed when he got to the part about the slaves. Driscoll had already given Keith all the details earlier, and he knew the commander was already plotting out ways of dealing with this new problem.
Mordock had found nothing on his sensor sweep. There were a few areas where he got humanoid readings, but there was no technology present, so these were probably refugees hiding in caves. Driscoll agreed to send some away teams to investigate, and hopefully tell the people that it was safe to come out of hiding.
After the meeting, Driscoll headed for the repair bay. He'd made arrangements to meet up with Hunk and Pidge to do some post-flight on Thunderwing, after that long recon mission and the dogfight with Keith. Normally, he'd do it himself, but the other two had offered, so he'd accepted. It would get the job done that much faster. When he walked into the repair bay, though, he was alone.
Oh, well, he thought with a shrug. It wasn't like he couldn't post-flight the plane himself. So, he set about removing panels from the nose, the gun access doors, and a few panels near the tail as he began his inspection.
He was just pulling the power cells out of his phasers when he heard someone walk up behind him. "Good, you're here. I was starting to think you weren't gonna make it."
"It's me, Adam," said a decidedly female voice behind him. Turning around, he saw Allura looking up at him over the muzzles of his .50 caliber phasers.
"Oh, hi, Ally. What's up?" he asked with a smile. She had changed out of the dress she'd worn to dinner, and was now dressed in the pink jumpsuit she favored for "dressing down."
"Hunk and Pidge are with Keith and Lance. Some kind of classified conference with a Garrison admiral. I'm not invited."
Driscoll nodded. "Yeah, well, you're not military, despite your position. I'm sure Keith wouldn't mind, but boneheaded brass always want things just so."
Allura came around the wing to watch him a moment as he finished removing the last power cell from the wing, and stacked it with the others near the flap. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.
Driscoll thought a moment. He didn't know Allura had any interest in technical stuff. "Actually, yeah. Climb into the cockpit and when I tell you, arm the phasers. They're due for a circuit test."
Allura nodded and climbed up onto the wing and into the cockpit. She looked around at the confusing array of switches and instruments and wondered how anyone could fly a craft like this.
A few minutes later, Driscoll called, "Okay, turn 'em on."
"How?"
"Red switch, left of the gunsight. Flip it up."
Allura did as she was told, and saw the gunsight come on. "Good," said Adam. He checked the port guns, then ran around to the starboard. "Okay, kill 'em."
Allura flipped the switch down, and looked at Adam, who had scooted over to the side of the cockpit. "So how do you like my office?"
"'Office'?" Allura asked.
"Old pilot's term for the cockpit," Driscoll explained.
"There's a lot to know up here."
"Well, I'd say the same for your Lion."
Allura nodded and smiled at him. She and Adam had been seeing more of each other for the past few weeks, until the raids started. Whenever they were both free, which was usually every couple of days, they'd go to the Berlin's holodeck, or they'd get together at the castle and talk or watch a movie. If asked, she would say their relationship was becoming very close, but they weren't a couple. Not yet.
She liked Adam, and she really enjoyed being with him. She was close to all the boys, and considered them all to be good friends. Like family, even. But she felt something more with Adam. He talked to her and treated her like a regular person, not a princess, and it was refreshing. But she wasn't quite ready to call him anything more than a friend. She wanted to get to know him better before she went any farther. That, and she wasn't ready to handle the stress she'd get after Coran and Nanny found out she was seeing someone not of royal blood.
"Listen, Ally, I've got kind of a weird question for you," he said. When she nodded, he continued. "When I was over that base, I got this weird feeling. I got this image in my head of a Stinger on my tail, and when I looked back, there it was, and with five buddies to boot, just like I'd seen it. But I never looked at my radar or my mirror. I just knew where he was. And the only other time I had a sense of, I dunno, awareness, I guess, like that, was that time I landed Blue."
Allura thought about what he'd said a moment. That almost sounds like…but it couldn't be. Thunderwing doesn't have any magic, does it? She looked at the Captain and said, "Adam, that sounds like a Lion fusion."
"A what?"
"The Lions have a sort of consciousness of their own. Almost a soul. It's a part of their magic. And when the boys or I are flying, that consciousness extends to us. The Lion becomes a part of us, and we a part of them. The way you described seeing the fighter without using your sensors or eyes, it sounds a lot like a Lion fusion."
Adam had heard of people being so at one with a vehicle, especially a plane, that it seemed to be an extension of their own body. The Spitfire was often described that way, as was his own Mustang. But literally becoming one with your aircraft? "But how can that be?" he asked. "Thunder's a hell of a bird, but she ain't magic."
Allura shook her head. "I don't know, Adam. Even I am just beginning to understand the secrets of the Lions. But you asked, and that's the best answer I can give you."
Driscoll nodded. "Well, thanks. I guess some explanation's better than none. But that one's kinda hard to wrap my brain around."
"Pardon?" Allura asked, not familiar with the metaphor.
"I mean it's hard to understand."
"Many things about the Lions are mysterious. It took father years to learn about them."
Driscoll nodded again. "Lot to think about, there," he said quietly. "Anyway, I'm about done here. Wanna give me a hand buttoning her back up?"
"Sure," Allura said with a smile as Adam helped her out of the cockpit. She watched as Adam showed her the proper way to refasten the access panels on the fuselage, and then they each took a side to work on.
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Lion practice the next morning was brief. With all the combat sorties the Voltron Force had been flying, Keith didn't see the need for the usual full practice regimen, so he was focusing again on formation tactics, something that wasn't getting much use in the recent battles.
Later, Keith and Adam got together to review the information on the Doom base on Citrine II, Hunk and Pidge went off to work on modifying the defenses to deal with the new fighters, and Allura had a meeting with local village leaders. This left Lance with some free time on his hands.
He headed out across the drawbridge into the woods nearby. It had been a while since he'd had any time to wander and think. Taking a trail he knew well, he set out into the woods. This path circled around the castle and came out near the gardens, just beyond what remained of a wall that had once marked the perimeter of the castle grounds.
As he wandered along the path, his thoughts wandered as well, but came to nothing in particular. He watched birds flitting between the trees, and listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops. It was very peaceful. Almost like when he was a child, before his town was destroyed by Zarkon and his family fled to earth. There had been a wood on his homeworld much like this, where he spent a lot of time as a boy. Before he knew what war was.
He was startled by the sound of something moving, just a little off to one side of him. He turned around just in time to see a shadow disappear into a thicket. What in the galaxy? he wondered.
Suddenly, his face was covered by a black-gloved hand and he jammed his elbow back, hearing a reassuring grunt as he hit his assailant in the solar plexus.
He was just reaching for his communicator to call for help, when an answering blow struck him in the back of his head, and his vision swam and faded to blackness…