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.

A/N: Well, it looks like my promise to update more often is not going to hold up. Sorry folks, especially Crash77a. Unfortunately, I'm working on my Master's project, and it's turning out to be a bigger ordeal than I expected.

RL2: I'm glad you like Commander Torka's character. He's going to prove to not be the average Drule, like Kozal from the base. As far as my preference for Mustangs (The Almighty Spam-Can),I'm a huge fan of Chuck Yeager and (buzz number) B6-Y Glamorous Glen. He may not have been the highest-scoring ace, but kill tallies alone do not a fighter pilot make. And given what he's done, I have to agree with Tom Wolfe, who described Chuck as "The most righteous of all the possessors of the right stuff." BTW, he turns 83 on the 13th, and he's still flying, including P-51's.

Lillehafrue: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I think you'll continue to be pleased with what I've got coming up.

Star Tron: Hidden Dangers

Chapter 6

The next morning, practice was called off since Lance was restricted from flying for another day. Instead, Keith called the team into the castle's conference room for a briefing. The night before, Hunk, Pidge, Adam, and Scotty had knocked heads over the problem of the Konogg Brigade's cloaking fighters.

So, after breakfast, the seven people, joined by Coran, gathered in the conference room, eager to share some good news for a change. Captain Driscoll stood up, looking tired but satisfied. "Well, like I told you yesterday, most of the standard techniques for detecting cloaked ships are no good in this case."

"So how do we do it? X-ray goggles?" Lance asked sarcastically.

Keith shot him a sidelong glance as Scotty coolly replied, "No, lad. The answer's turbulence."

"Turbulence?" Keith asked.

Pidge nodded. "Yeah, it's so simple, I don't know why we didn't think of it right away."

Coran nodded, a thin smile pushing the ends of his mustache up. "Yes, I think that just might work."

"Wait, I'm confused," said Allura. "How can air movement help us detect the fighters?"

"Look," said Scotty, his brogue thickening as he prepared for a technical report. "It's a simple rule of physics that no two bits o' matter can occupy the same space a' the same time, agreed?"

Heads nodded.

"Now, cloaked or not," the Highlander continued, "those fighters still have to displace air, or else they could nae move at all. But that air is nae smoothly or evenly displaced."

"What do you mean?" Lance asked.

"Remember back at the Academy, when they taught us about drag on craft in an atmosphere?" said Hunk. "That drag is turbulent air stirred up by a passing aircraft that tugs on the airframe. That's what we gotta look for."

"We've been able to detect them the whole time, and we never knew it," said Pidge as he called up an image on the screen near the head of the table. It was shaded in artificial colors, showing a boxy, black object in its center, surrounded by patterns of blues, yellows, and reds. "This is the turbulence pattern from Black Lion. You can see where the legs and tail cause the most drag."

"Those look like images from the castle's weather sensors," said Coran.

Pidge nodded as he adjusted his glasses. "Yep, exactly. This was recorded yesterday by the wind Doppler we use to track air currents and weather fronts." He changed the image. The next one was ovoid in shape, with three similar vortices stemming from the sides and rear, as well as a cone of turbulence extending from the front.

"That's Thunderwing," Driscoll explained. "That was yesterday after Lance got jumped, when Allura and me were on patrol."

"And here's a Stinger," said Hunk. The image changed to a crescent shape, with vortices emanating from the top and bottom, and a column of random turbulence through the center.

"Now look a' yer records from the attack on the airfield," Scotty said as Pidge changed the picture again. This one filled the screen with even, smooth patterns of blue and red. But this pattern was broken by three chaotic patterns near the center. "This was recorded by yer weather instruments just abou' a minute before those beasties decloaked and attacked."

Keith was nodding along the whole time, and now a glint appeared in his eye. A glint that had been missing for a while as they'd fought these uneven odds. Now, things were changing. Now, Keith was getting a plan. "So we can see them, even cloaked?"

"You bet, Chief," said Pidge. "We just had to know what to look for."

"Can we track them back to their base?" Allura asked, catching on to the implications of the system.

"Not unless the base is within the castle's line of sight," Pidge said.

"What about the starships?" Lance asked.

"We had the Captain out all night, tryin' to track his turbulence from the ship," Scotty replied. "Was no use. We kept losing him against the background turbulence above the mountains and forests."

"We're still working on tracking, Keith," said Driscoll. "But at least now we can fight these guys."

Keith nodded. "It's a start, and it's better than sitting around helpless." He glanced at Coran. "How long will it take to tie in the castle's weather sensors to the tactical systems?"

Coran thought a moment, stroking his mustache. "I should think it would be less than a day. I'll get crews on it right away."

"Good. How about the Lions?" he asked, turning to Hunk and Pidge.

The mechanics looked apprehensive. They hated it when Keith asked them for a deadline, especially on something like this. "Well, um, we're not sure," Hunk replied finally.

"The Lions' systems are really complicated," Pidge elaborated. "I suppose we could try bridging the data feeds from the sensor blocks and cross-feed them to the…"

"How long?" Keith growled.

"Probably a day or two," Hunk said quickly. "We'll know better after we've done it to one Lion."

"You should start with Black," said Allura. "It's most in tune with the elements of air and space. It would probably be the easiest to modify." Hunk and Pidge nodded their agreement.

"Adam, I'll leave your plane to you, but make sure it's ready when the Lions are."

"Right, boss."

Coran rose from the table, and Keith and the others followed suit. "Well done, everyone," the minister said. "Now perhaps we can stop this enemy."

"Let's get to work," Keith added.

As everyone filed out, Adam caught Allura's elbow and the two remained behind. Coran glanced back, shooting Adam a suspicious look, and the Captain beckoned for him to join them.

"What is it, Adam?" Allura asked after everyone else had gone.

"Remember those pockets of refugees we detected when we were scanning for the Konogg Brigade's base?" Allura nodded, and he continued. "Well, they don't want to come out. I sent an away team to one of them, and they were attacked. Those people thought my guys were working for Zarkon."

Allura knew immediately what Adam was getting at. "Of course. Can you take me to them?"

Adam nodded. "Sure. We can beam right over there."

"Absolutely not, Your Highness," Coran said. "I don't think you should be going anywhere near those people until someone has talked some sense into them. If trained Starfleet officers were repelled by them, then it is far too dangerous for you. It would be far wiser if you would send Keith or one of the others. There is no knowing what dangers you may encounter."

Allura's eyes narrowed as she regarded her counselor. "Coran, they are Arusians, my people, and I have not risked my life and fought against Doom so that I could leave any of my people in some hole. And I will accept any danger I must."

Knowing that arguing with her was futile, and unwilling to have her physically restrained as he had done in times past, he said, "At least take your Lion, then. I'm sure transporting right into their midst would be most ill-advised."

"Coran, I…" Allura started to protest, but Adam cut her off.

"Wait, Allura, Coran's got a good point. Beaming in would probably look more like Haggar's magic than anything else."

"But we need the Lions here. If there's another attack…"

"Okay, then we'll take Thunderwing."

Allura nodded, but Coran cleared his throat. "Captain, we are talking about the ruling monarch of Arus. Her safety must come first."

Driscoll nodded. "Of course." With a "forgive me" sort of look, he turned to Allura. "Make sure you suit up, and bring your blaster and emergency transmitter. I'll have the Berlin stand by to beam you aboard at the first sign of trouble."

Allura nodded. "Very well, Captain," she said a bit distantly. "If you'll excuse me," she nodded to Coran and Adam, and left the room.

Coran turned to the Captain. "Her life is in your hands, young man. I would rather you had spoken to me first."

"Coran, thing is, she's right. These are her people. Remember what it was like the guys when they first landed? They damn near got skewered, and now the same thing happened to my guys. Allura's the only one who can get through to those guys, and you know it."

Coran nodded, pleasantly surprised at the logic of the younger man's statement. "Perhaps you're right. This may be the only option at this point."

"I think so." He looked at the older man and saw the concern in his eyes, knowing that he was worrying about Allura. "She'll be fine, Coran. I promise."

"See that she is, Captain," Coran replied, striding from the room. A few minutes later, Allura returned and the two beamed to the Berlin to board Thunderwing.

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"Prince Lotor, it is an honor," Commander Kozal said with effectively feigned cordiality, saluting sharply as Lotor strode down the ramp from his ship. Haggar followed a pace behind, stroking her blue cat. They had just arrived on Citrine II to oversee the final preparations for the invasion, and take command when the operation was launched.

"Commander," Lotor acknowledged with a curt nod as Kozal fell into step beside him. As he walked, he glanced around, a fierce scowl plastered to his face as though smelling an offensive odor. "Are your preparations on schedule?"

"They are, My Lord. Two fleets are currently on station, with two more on the way. Total numbers will be 200 ships and 6,000 fighters, as ordered."

Lotor nodded in approval. That much, at least, was going well. "And the raids?"

At this, Kozal paused. "We continue to take heavy losses without any appreciable gain. Frankly, Sire, these raids seem completely pointless."

Lotor whirled around. "You aren't here to be frank, Kozal. You are here to follow orders," he growled. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Most clear, My Lord," Kozal replied, his face an expressionless mask. Lotor had been born into his place and had every opportunity made available to him. He didn't care about the sacrifices he asked of his men, nor did he believe he had any fault when his plans failed. Kozal held Lotor in low regard, bordering on contempt, but knew well enough to keep these feelings to himself.

"As far as the productivity of the raids," Lotor continued, "they seem pointless only because you have not been informed of their true importance."

"What, may I ask, is that?"

"You will know in due time, Commander. Now assemble your officers. We have plans to make."

"As you wish, Sire," Kozal replied with a bow. Whatever Lotor was planning, it must be big. He was assembling what was probably one of the largest invasion fleets on record. Obviously, he intended to take Arus and probably capture Voltron. That alone would probably cost many ships. And if that were the case, Kozal wanted no part of it.

He also decided he wouldn't mention the visit from Thunderwing, either. Nothing had come of it, and there was really no point. The fighter had not seen the bulk of the forces on Citrine II, and so the Alliance probably had little idea of their plans.

As he headed into the main fortress to gather the fleet officers for Lotor's meeting, he couldn't help but wonder why so much firepower was being brought to bear on a single planet. Surely, a few robots and a bunch of punk kids couldn't be that difficult to overcome.

Could they?

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While Kozal and his officers discussed battle plans with Lotor, another meeting was taking place in a distant corner of the complex, in the slave quarters.

"Are you certain, Kala?" Neal asked. He led the workers in one of the sectors of the slave complex, and was in charge of local resistance activity, which often included sabotage and staged disputes among the slaves to disrupt production.

The young, dark-haired girl in front of him nodded. "Yes. The watch officer clearly ordered another hundred berths readied, and for serviced fighters to be returned to their mother ships."

Neal nodded his straw-haired head, a calculating look in his hazel eyes. "Then whatever they're up to, we don't have much time to act."

"You'll ask Michael?" Kala asked.

Neal caught the slight waver in her voice. He knew she had never been comfortable with how instrumental her brother had become in the resistance, but there was no choice. "He's my best man, Kala. And he's the only one who can pull it off."

Kala nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you, Kala, you've done well. Now you should return to your place before you're missed."

Kala turned and left the chamber. A moment later, Neal followed and returned to his own work station. On the way, he passed Michael and dropped a bolt with a nut on it next to him. Michael glanced at it and nodded without looking at Neal. It was a signal that a round of sabotage was being planned, and there would be a meeting after their shift was over.

Michael watched from the corner of his eye until Neal became lost in the crowd. He'd heard rumors that there was a large buildup at the base, and the number of ships he'd seen coming through seemed to lend credence to it. So he had a hunch about what Neal was thinking.

"You!" a passing guard shouted. "Stop daydreaming and get back to work!"

Michael said nothing and returned to his task, kicking the bolt under his workstation. Enjoy it while you can, you blue bastard. Yours is coming, he thought. And with any luck, it would be very soon.

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With a roar, Thunderwing's Neo-Merlin engine came to life and the aircraft came out of its re-entry dive and leveled off. "You okay back there, Ally?" Adam asked.

"Just fine, Dinoman," she replied, addressing the Captain by his callsign. "Where are we?"

Smiling, Driscoll replied in his best, Yeager-esque voice, "Angels 45 and descending, about thirty miles south of our mark. Should be there and on the ground in about fifteen minutes, little lady."

Allura laughed under her breath as she nodded and turned her attention to the outside of the fighter, where clouds seemed to fly upwards as the fighter made its way down. Looking around the slab of armor plate behind Driscoll's seat, Allura could see the area they were heading for. It was a low mountain range, scarred by glaciation and water runoff. It would be an ideal place to hide, but not so ideal to land.

Driscoll circled the area and they dropped down to about two thousand feet before Driscoll lined up on their final destination, a gently-sloping clearing in the mountainside forest. "Dead ahead now, five miles," he said.

"Let's circle a few times before we land so they don't think we're attacking," said Allura.

"Roger."

Driscoll slowed the plane as they approached and banked over into a wide right turn. Allura looked down at the clearing and saw several people looking up from the edge of the trees. She waved to them as the Mustang came around and they were lost from view.

After three passes, Adam rolled out of the turn and swung around, cutting in his thrusters and antigravs for a vertical landing, since the clearing was nowhere near long enough for a conventional approach.

Coming in low and very slow, Thunderwing dropped to fifteen feet, the landing gear came down, and the P-51 settled into the grass.

Driscoll and Allura slowly unbuckled themselves, then Driscoll turned to face the Princess. "If this goes south, you use that transponder, okay? Don't worry about me or the plane."

"Adam, we'll be fine," Allura replied, slightly annoyed.

"Probably, but these guys are scared and could be hard to predict. I just want you to be as safe as possible."

"Yes, Keith," Allura shot back.

Driscoll scowled. "Oooh, you gonna pay for that."

Allura smiled, "You can try, Captain."

Adam didn't reply. Slowly, he cranked the canopy back and climbed out, helping Allura do the same. They jumped down from the wing, and headed toward the small group of people they saw at one end of the clearing. Despite the glint of spears and knives, Allura pushed past Adam to take the lead, ignoring the sideways glance he leveled at her. He really wished she wouldn't be so brazen all the time, but at the same time, he couldn't help but admire her guts.

The two stopped twenty feet from the trees and Allura called out, "There is no reason to be afraid. I am Princess Allura. I've come to tell you that Zarkon is gone, and Arus is ours again."

There was a long silence, then Allura heard a murmur coming from the group ahead. Finally, a man wearing an official-looking uniform spoke up. "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

"Who are you?" Driscoll challenged.

"Major Kennet, Arusian Police Agency. I'm in charge around here," the man replied, stepping away from the trees toward the pair. He looked back at the other refugees. "We've seen other ships in the sky. Zarkon's ships. And him," he pointed to Driscoll, "he wears the same uniform as the others who attacked us yesterday."

"They didn't attack you," Allura replied. "They were trying to find you and tell you that it is safe to return to your homes."

"Who are they, then? Those aren't Arusian or Alliance uniforms."

"My name is Captain Adam C. Driscoll, commanding officer of the U.S.S. Berlin, a Federation starship assigned to help protect this planet and help the Alliance fight Zarkon. Those were my men."

Kennet eyed him suspiciously. "Perhaps. But what proof do we have?"

"The word of your Princess is not enough?" Driscoll growled.

"And how do we know she isn't a look-alike, or under Zarkon's control?"

"This is ridiculous, Kennet," someone said behind him.

"Is it? Is it ridiculous that we've survived Zarkon so far? Is it ridiculous to want to remain free?"

"No, it's not," Allura said, trying to defuse the situation before tempers escalated. "Major Kennet, I'd like to speak to all of the people. Let them decide. If you choose to remain here in hiding, we will not force you to leave. But this is a decision that everyone should make for themselves."

Kennet considered Allura's words for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Follow us."

The refugees closed in around Allura and Adam, and led them away into the forest.

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It was two long, exhausting hours before either of them saw Thunderwing again. The lengthening shadows had darkened the clearing where the fighter was parked, and Adam and Allura hurried over, eager to get back to the Castle of Lions.

When they left the refugees' camp, there had still been pockets of argument over whether or not to come out of hiding. But most of the refugees agreed that it was time to come out of hiding and go home. Allura had promised to send word as soon as arrangements could be made, and Adam had told them to expect another visit from his crew, bringing supplies and equipment.

They climbed up onto the wing and Adam pulled the canopy back, but instead of climbing in, he motioned Allura to the front seat. "Why don't you take the scenic chair? I'm gonna brush up on my instrument flying."

Allura was a bit confused. "But there aren't any instruments in back," she said.

Adam winked at her. "Trust me."

So they climbed into the cockpit, and put on their helmets. "Roll up the canopy, would you, Ally?"

Allura nodded and cranked the canopy closed as she heard Adam say, "Computer, activate jumpseat controls and instrumentation, authorization Driscoll-papa-five-one-delta." A few seconds later, she heard a series of beeps and chirps, followed by the hushed whir and buzz of equipment coming on. She watched the main instrument panel as lights came on and needles moved on gauges.

Anticipating Allura's question, Adam explained. "Holographic controls back here, like what I use for flying in space. Just try not to mess with your controls, because they still work."

Allura nodded as the engine turned over and a moment later, they were headed up and away.

Flying at Mach 10 and using a parabolic flight path, Adam and Allura made good time getting back to the Castle of Lions. They dropped down to 15,000 feet about seventy miles from the castle, which was still in twilight.

During the whole flight, Allura had been watching the controls and instruments as much as she had the world outside the plane. Despite the confusing number of switches, buttons, dials, and gauges, the aircraft didn't seem as tough to fly as she thought it might be. In fact, there were a number of similarities to her own Lion.

Adam had noticed her perusing the instruments, and an idea began to form in his head. "Hey, Allura, can you take over for a second? I need to check something."

Allura was surprised. He'd never let anybody fly Thunderwing before. He'd even told her and Keith he never would. Why not just use the autopilot? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. Just put your feet on the pedals, hold the stick with your right hand, and keep your left on the throttle." He leaned around the seat and watched as she positioned herself on the controls. "No, no, the long, silver one," he corrected as Allura clutched the prop pitch control. "Good. Now just hold her steady."

Allura heard Adam moving around behind her as she looked ahead through the gunsight. Her instincts took over as she held the plane straight and level, making minor adjustments for wind gusts.

She found she liked the way the plane felt. It was much lighter and easier handling than Blue Lion, but at the same time, there was something vaguely familiar about it. Something like her Lion, yet somehow not.

After a few minutes, Adam spoke up again. "Okay, Allura, I've got it. Thanks." Allura released the controls and felt the slight sway as the plane drifted a moment before Adam corrected.

As Adam set up to land the fighter, she thought about their conversation the night before, how the phenomenon Adam felt was like what she felt with the Lions. She had felt something, too, but wasn't sure what it was. The whole thing puzzled her, and she decided she'd have to spend some time in the archives.

But that thought was banished from her mind as, no sooner had Thunderwing set down in the castle's launch bay than the alarms rang out. Allura leapt from the cockpit without a word, dashing for the control room, while Adam quickly took the front seat, turned the plane, and flew off again. To the northeast, he could see the orange glow of fires near the harbor town of Shavena.