Author's Note: Voltron and all its constituents belongs to World Events Productions originally. The Stellar Ship Defender and Captain Jennifer Owens belong to WarzonePrez. All other original characters belong to me.
This chapter is dedicated to sunshineleo and her lovely sister! I cannot wait for the three of us to get together during my next trip to Vegas.
To Guest - Thank you for the compliment and the background check. I hope I don't disappoint.
To LibAkilah - Thanks and welcome back! Christiane will be playing a big role in this story, possibly bigger than you think.
Chapter Three.
Though she was tired, Jen didn't dare show it. As the overall commander of Vehicle Voltron—even over Cliff and Crik, who'd been there for far longer—she had to show mastery and leadership without complaint. It was something she'd had to work plenty on throughout the course of her years on the team.
"Good morning," she greeted her fourteen pilots. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you all here for 0500 hours Earth time."
AJ let out a yawn. "You could say that."
"I second that." Lydia added her own yawn to the pile.
Jen looked over at Cliff and Ka. They stood at the ready, more alert and awake than even she was. She wondered what it was like to have such superhuman strength and drive at their ages. Cliff was fifty-three, Ka was not far behind. How did they do it? Was it the coffee? If so, hers was clearly not as strong as theirs.
Cliff nodded his head once in acknowledgment. Or was it encouragement? At this hour, one could never be certain. "No comments from the peanut gallery," the Air Team leader continued. "We're going to run drills. It's the best way to get the new pilots used to their new ruggers." She shot a warning glance over to AJ. "Don't wreck your mother's Space Prober on the first day, young Dalloway."
A tittering of laughter broke out, especially after AJ retorted, "I make no promises."
Heading off to load into the Jet Command Explorer, Jen shook her head. Crik has his hands full with that one. She could only hope that Lydia and Azalea didn't give her the same trouble.
"If you haven't heard the intergalactic news yet, Admiral, Galaxy Garrison officially launched the Stellar Ship Defender and Vehicle Voltron into orbit yesterday." The pageboy brought this announcement before Admiral Keith Akira Kogane, husband and royal consort of Her Majesty, Queen Allura of Planet Arus, as he performed his decades-old duties pertaining to perimeter scan. With a mug of piping-hot black coffee in hand, of course.
"Oh? It's about time." Taking a sip, he then refined his statement to a more politically-correct version. "That must mean that Graydon Vanderleigh no longer has any power."
The pageboy eyed him skeptically. "He hasn't been in power for a while now, Admiral."
"My apologies. I've been too busy dealing with Arusian matters to study any political theatrics occurring on Earth." Unsurprisingly, Keith did look sorry at not knowing this information; he'd built a reputation on acquiring knowledge and staying up-to-date on his allies' well-being. "If Vanderleigh isn't in power anymore, who is? It isn't Space Marshall Hawkins, is it?"
"No, Sir." The page shook his head. "Last I heard, the entirety of the United States government was being overhauled. I've heard rumors of the Garrison aiding the government during its time of reconstruction, but I can't say for certain."
"Does anyone know where Vanderleigh is?"
"Perhaps the Space Marshall. Other than that, no."
Keith nodded. "That's fair. Thank you for the information."
The pageboy bowed. "My pleasure, Sir."
Once alone, the Admiral and one-time (always, in his mind) leader of the Voltron Lion Force clasped his hands behind his back and stared absently at the screen in thought. He had been lax on his duties, of that much he was certain. He should have been on top of this information. And his communications with his former Voltron pilots had been pitiful as of late. He wondered what Darrell, Tsuyoshi, Lance, and Sven knew of this situation on Earth.
And what one current Green Lion pilot in particular knew.
His mind made up, Keith exited perimeter scan. As he was about to leave the viewing room, a voice stopped him. "Dad? Are we calling a Roundtable this morning, or what?"
He looked into the green eyes of his blond-haired oldest child. "We are, Alex. Come with me."
"Sound the alarm." Hands at hips, Prince Alexander Alfor Kogane looked more than excited to begin the task at hand. Keith shouldn't have been surprised. The teen was his father's son, after all.
Jeff had always thought the weirdest part of being in outer space on a ship was that he didn't necessarily 'rise and shine' to the morning sun. As he woke for the day, it never failed to amuse him that there was no sunlight streaming in through his bedroom curtains. His quarters empty, he headed to the shower to ready himself for the bridge. Coffee and food would have to wait.
Once he made it to the bridge, he found himself to be the last one there. Even Jake had arrived before him, standing at the helm like he owned the place. In a way, he did. Jeff marvelled at him for a moment. Had it been anyone other than his godson, he definitely would have called him out. But not Jake. The young 'Commander' Hawkins was going to take over his position someday. It was unspoken knowledge, but they all knew it.
"Good morning, Commander," he called out.
"Good morning, Admiral." Jake scooted over but never took his eyes off the screen as his godfather took his rightful place at the helm. "The Voltron Force is already out practicing. Captain Owens believes it to be the best course of action to run drills for the new pilots."
"And she would be correct." Jeff stared at the five ruggers composing the Air Team as they performed drills on the screen. "Once upon a time, all fifteen of us were newbie pilots. Your father sure had his hands full."
In the background, Sparks not-so-inconspicuously coughed.
"Captain Newley did, too," he added quickly, darting a poisonous glare at his senior bridge officer.
Jake nodded. He reminded Jeff of his father exactly, the way his chin tilted and his eyes pierced as though deep in thought. The Vice Marshall's mind never stopped working, and he was certain that the man's son had inherited that trait. "Do you wish you were still piloting, Admiral?"
That question caught Jeff off-guard. Indeed, it caught the entire bridge crew off-guard; one could have heard the proverbial pin drop amid the humming and buzzing of the ship's machinery and computers. "Do I wish I was still flying, or do I wish I was still piloting the Jet Command Explorer?"
"Piloting the JCE. Technically, you're still flying," Jake pointed out. But not in a smart-assed way. He was as diplomatic as his mother. "My father never piloted a Voltron rugger, so he never knew anything other than the helm of the Explorer. But you? You do."
"Correct."
The bridge was heavily silent for a moment. Even the general hum of the ship seemed to still as Jeff pondered over his answer. He didn't want to tell an outright lie, yet he didn't want to give him the honest truth, either. He decided to offer something in the middle. "Piloting the JCE was an honor and a privilege. I was happy to do it, and I would do it again if duty demanded it. But there is something to be said for being at the helm of the Defender. I'm happy at this post."
What he spoke was true; it was a lie of omission. It was what he didn't say, and it was better off that way.
With Alex to his left side, Keith called the daily Roundtable meeting to a start. Thinking of Coran Raible, his retired predecessor, he logged onto the computer to pull up his away counterparts while the current Voltron Force presented themselves.
Larmina, dressed in her Black Lion pilot uniform, presented first. Keith wasn't surprised. After he'd relinquished the reins, Black Lion had chosen her over all her comrades as its pilot, and she stepped into what the position required. It hadn't been easy, he knew. Daniel had never forgiven either of them for it. "I'm here, Chief."
"Where's the rest of your team?"
"Here, Chief." Dressed in his Red Lion pilot uniform, Daniel bounced into the room and seated himself at Keith's right—the position which Larmina should have taken. "The rest of the crew is following."
Larmina did not appear to be perplexed by Daniel's behavior; if anything, she looked as though she expected her one-time boyfriend's bad manners. "They are."
Shayne, Erik, and Annie followed suit shortly, dressed in their respective uniforms. It made Keith grin a little as he looked over the current state of the Voltron Force. Shayne, in one of Lance's proudest moments, had taken over for Hunk as pilot of Yellow Lion. Erik Vendel (née Holgersson) had usurped his father's position as pilot of Blue Lion. Annie had followed Pidge's and Vince's footsteps as pilot of Green Lion. Once they joined him, Keith pulled up the screens for the remainder of his teammates.
"Here, Crankypants." Lance McClain, Headmaster of the Arusian outpost of the Space Explorers Academy, popped up on one screen.
"Preach." Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garrett, from the trenches at the Academy, appeared on another.
"From the lab." Darrell "Pidge" Stoker's face popped up on yet another.
"With Pidge." With his one electronic eyeball* on his scarred face, Vince appeared on the same screen as Darrell.
"I'm on deck." Ginger Ellington, Lance's long-term romantic partner (most would say common-law wife) and former Vehicle Voltron pilot appeared on a different screen.
"I'm here, too." Cinda Kirigas Garrett, Tsuyoshi's wife, smiled from behind her station. Also a former Vehicle Voltron pilot, she had successfully relinquished her role as professor and chose to solely focus on rebuilding and repairing machinery for the Arusian outpost of the Space Explorers Academy.
"Ja, min venn." Sven Holgersson sat behind his office desk, irritated as usual.
"I'm here." Queen Allura, flanked by her daughter Aurora, had dressed for the day, complete with her requisite tiara. "I'm about to fetch Kenny and Leggie."
"Good. I'm glad you're all present." Between the amount of screens and the pilots present, Keith did not feel any need to mince words. "My pageboy informed me this morning that the Stellar Ship Defender and Vehicle Voltron are back in orbit."
He watched the screens. As he expected, both Ginger and Cinda appeared pleased at this revelation. "Is Jeff at the helm?" Ginger asked.
"I'm not certain, but I feel that he is."
"I can't imagine that he isn't," Cinda piped up. "After all, he was at the helm when Vanderleigh shot the Defender out of the sky. Who else would better lead that ship back into orbit?"
"I agree," Allura grinned. "Jeff of all people should be at the helm of that ship. Unless he's retired. And I daresay he has not."
"So who's got my rugger?" Ginger inquired. "Do we know who's piloting Falcon?"
Keith admitted, "This is all brand-new to me. Shamefully, I have not been keeping up-to-date on my communications with the Garrison." He shot Annie a suspicious side-eyed glance. "Would you happen to know anything, Cadet?"
Annie froze. "This is the first I'm hearing of it, Chief."
"Perhaps you might know some people who have the ability to fill us in?"
Her cheeks colored. "Are you asking me to contact my parents, Admiral?"
"If you would be so kind." Keith shot her a delicate smile. He was sympathetic, he was. It had to be difficult to be a child of the Space Marshall, to build a rank and reputation on one's own merit and not by the accomplishments of one's parents.
"My father would know better. Maman has always deferred to him in terms of Vehicle Voltron."
"I bet." Ginger saluted. "Tell the Commander I send my regards. And figure out who's flying my damn rugger, would you?"
Laughs all around the table. "He might not know," Annie offered meekly.
"Bullshit," Ginger shot back. "There's nothing about that ship or Vehicle Voltron that Commander Hawkins doesn't know. Trust me on this one, Anna-Banana. Your father knows everything."
Smirking, Lance cleared his throat. "You mean Vice Marshall Hawkins, Babe."
"You serve under him and then call him anything but Commander," she shot back.
"Drittsekk." As they volleyed back and forth, Sven shook his head. "Erik, gutten min, have you been practicing in Blue?" he changed the subject.
The blond-haired young man with the slate-blue eyes peered back at Sven on the screen. "Ja, Pappa," he answered in the little Norwegian he spoke. He knew how happy hearing his native tongue meant to his father. "Annie and Shayne and I have been running overtime. We need to catch up to Larmina and Daniel."
"Ja, but they have many years of experience and practice on the three of you. Don't beat yourselves up too much."
"That's the truth." Keith cleared his throat. "Speaking of Lion practice, I believe there are five pilots here who need to be off to it."
"Yes, Chief." Larmina stood up and motioned for the rest of the Lion Force to do the same. "It's time to run some drills, Team. Let's get to it."
As the rest of the Voltron Force stood from Roundtable, Alex tugged on Erik's sleeve. "When practice is over, you'll take me up in Blue?" he asked quietly.
"Of course," the Polluxian prince answered his younger cousin.
Larmina excused her team, and as they headed off to practice, the remaining Roundtable attendees murmured in remembrance. It seemed like they had been in that position too, not so long ago.
"I don't envy Jeff, Crik, or Cliff as they return to outer space," Cinda mused. "Those days are long gone for me. I can't imagine going back out there at this point in my life."
"You prefer to be more grounded, eh, Cin?" Ginger teased.
The blue-skinned Miran nodded fiercely. "I was part of the Land Team for a reason, Lemon Drop."
Ginger shook her head. "Ugh. I am never going to live that down."
"Nope."
Taking that as his cue to wrap things up, Keith stood from the Roundtable. "That will be all for now. You are all dismissed. Have a good day, everyone. It was nice to see you all."
A general rumble of acknowledgment filled the room. One by one, the former Voltron pilots gave their good-byes and switched off their screens. Lance, as usual, was the last one to shut down.
"You can go back to being a Headmaster now," the Arusian royal consort informed him.
"Sheesh. And just when you thought your daughter's boyfriend's father was a decent dude." Lance rolled his eyes in amusement. "Later, Crankypants."
As the Headmaster's screen switched off, Keith noticed that Alex had turned several shades of scarlet.
"Relax," he reminded his son. "You and Lily have been an item practically since the day you were born. You were in the nursery together, for heaven's sake. "No one here is surprised that she's officially your girlfriend now."
"And everybody is okay with it?" Alex asked meekly.
"Why should anyone not be okay with it?' Keith reassured the young prince. "Your mother and I redefined the terms of the royal station a long time ago."
"That's good." Alex spoke hesitantly. Carefully. "Because I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"I want to be a Voltron pilot. Not a reigning monarch."
Keith turned his head so that his son wouldn't see the way the corners of his mouth tilted upward. "I understand. You can't do both. Ask your mother about that one."
"I already have. And I choose a Lion over the throne."
"You're still young, Alex. You may change your mind yet."
"Rory would make a better reigning monarch than I would."
Keith paused at that argument. He had nothing to say in defense. His daughter Aurora would be a better monarch than her older brother, no two ways about it. Not only did she have her mother's natural ruling abilities and diplomacy, but she had also inherited her Aunt Christiane's fierce intelligence and computer skills. He sighed in defeat. "When do you plan on telling this to your mother?"
"I'm pretty sure she already suspects it."
"And you might be right about that." Vehicle Voltron fading from his mind, Keith headed off to start his own day. He had many more things to worry about other than the Stellar Ship Defender. And besides… if Jeff, his oldest friend in the universe, was at the helm, then everything would be fine.
Fingers crossed.
Although Crik Miranda Keats had the most patience of anyone on the Voltron Vehicle Force or the Stellar Ship Defender, he found that Aidan Dalloway Junior was really testing his outer limits. And that was just on the first morning.
What infuriated him the most was that the boy was a natural pilot. He sat down behind the controls of the Space Prober and flew it like he had been doing so his entire life. There was no trepidation, no nervousness, no confusion, no excuses. No fear.
"Jeff," he opened a private comm to the Defender, "the kid is a natural."
"Well, don't tell him that." Jake answered before the admiral did. "His head is big enough as it is."
"Don't misunderstand me," Crik continued. "Marx and Chrys are excellent pilots in their own right. I could not have asked for a better Sea Team if it were Zandee, Tangor, and Lisa flying alongside Shannon and me. But I am greatly surprised by AJ's natural ability."
"He's just annoying as hell," Jeff finished for him.
Crik didn't know how to respond to that.
"Come on, Keats. He's Aidan's clone. I'd swear there was absolutely no Lisa in him at all, except you've just told me he can fly the Space Prober like it's his sole purpose for being. Once you get back onboard the ship, reprimand him and get on with life."
"Reprimand him? What do you mean, reprimand him? I've never had to reprimand a Sea Team pilot in my life."
"There's a first time for everything, Keats." The admiral clicked off the transmission.
Crik stared at the blank screen for a moment, feeling a knot of dread take shape in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know if he had it in him to reprimand the boy. Or anyone. But as he watched the way AJ flew the Space Prober so recklessly (yet so damned flawlessly), he knew he would have to do so. He needed to rein this boy in before he got too big for his proverbial britches.
It wasn't a question of if. It was a question of how.
Once the door to the Space Marshall's office opened, Admiral Chilton Miniocre stepped inside and saluted. "Any word from the Defender?" he asked nervously.
"So far, everything is fine." The Space Marshall leaned back from her computer and locked eyes with him. "The Vice Marshall has been in regular contact with Admiral Aki. Which is to say, more often than he bargained for."
"So the kids haven't blown the ship up yet," Miniocre concluded.
A smile played on her lips. "Yet being the operative word here."
He plopped down onto the chair opposite her desk. "How can you remain so calm about this, Lenora? I only have one child on the Defender. You have a child on the Defender and a child on Arus."
"Don't remind me."
"How have you not lost your mind yet?"
She laughed ironically. "You're assuming I had my mind to begin with."
He laughed along with her, then sank further into the chair. "I never thought it would be this difficult to let my daughter go into orbit."
"If it eases your mind any, I wholly vouch for Jeff." The Space Marshall nodded ferociously. "He may be a little unorthodox, but no one in our generation cares more about the Defender and Vehicle Voltron than he does. Azalea and the rest of the kids are in good hands."
"And you've known him since the Academy."
"Since we were sixteen years old. I won't tell you how old we are now."
"I thought you were thirty-nine."
"And I still stand by that."
As they laughed over the absurdity and sheer overwhelming nature of the situation, the Vice Marshall entered the room. "What are you two laughing about?"
"Your thirty-nine-year-old wife," Miniocre deadpanned.
"If you believe that," Hawkins raised an eyebrow, "I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you."
"In all seriousness," Miniocre changed the subject, "I was asking how my Azalea is faring on the Defender. I'm not sure which Voltron rugger she's piloting, or what team she's been assigned to."
"Air Team," the Vice Marshall answered without hesitancy. "She's been assigned to Rugger 2, which is the Stratoweapons Module that Rocky originally piloted. It forms Vehicle Voltron's upper torso."
"He's quick on the draw," Miniocre commented. "He sure knows his stuff."
"Which is why I defer to him in these instances," the Space Marshall affirmed.
The Vice Marshall crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "I can't help it. These habits die hard. I've been Earth-bound for quite a long time now, but even so… it's not easy to shake off the Explorer."
"Defender," Miniocre corrected.
"Defender, Explorer… it's the same ship, built off the same blueprints."
"You can't argue with him on this," the Space Marshall countered. "It was his uncle who drew up the blueprints for these ships. It's like another child to him."
"No wonder Jake is on the bridge," Miniocre mused. "You really had to have your son on that ship, didn't you, Jon." More of an observation than a question.
"It was the only ship that would do, Chilton," the Vice Marshall replied.
The Space Marshall leaned back in her desk chair and laced her fingers behind her head. Closing her eyes, she pictured the bridge of the Defender, with Jeff and her son at the helm. She pictured Vehicle Voltron's ruggers heading out into space, led by Jen, Cliff, and Crik. "As long as they keep the universe safe, gentlemen, then we've all done our jobs."
And as long as they all return safely, she thought, I'll have done my job.
Half of Jen's mouth curled up in a grin as she approached the bar. Ka had beaten everyone to the punch, lifting up two fingers in a V as she barked out her request to the bartender. "Tequila, Sawyer. Stat."
"Ka," she sidled up next to the woman at the bar, "it's not even noon on Earth."
"It's five o'clock somewhere in this universe." Ka gratefully accepted her two shotglasses of blanco tequila and lifted one up to her superior. "Cheers."
"A beer, Sawyer." Cliff came around Ka's other side and requested his own beverage. "Contrary to what Captain Owens over here believes, the end of practice signals an adult beverage."
"Hey," Jen protested, "I never said–"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ka cut her off. "Save it for someone who believes you, Jenny."
Jen laughed. "You guys suck."
"Are you ordering anything? I'd like a beer too, Sawyer, if you don't mind." Shannon came up behind Jen, wrapping one arm seductively around her waist. She did not protest. "Come on, lassie. Peer pressure! Peer pressure!"
The Air Team captain dropped her head. "You guys are impossible."
"Speaking of impossible…" EJ squeezed in between Cliff and Ka. "Fireworks are about to go off. I think Crik is about to reprimand AJ for his stunts out there in the Space Prober today."
"Oh boy," Ka groaned. "His ass is about to get whupped. And there ain't nothing I can do about it."
Cliff lifted his bottle of beer to his lips and took a long swig. "Crik isn't used to having to reprimand his Sea Team pilots. I guarantee you this isn't going to go well. Or be effective."
Ka lifted her eyebrows at her commanding officer. "Can you make it effective, Captain?"
With a subtle nod of his head, Cliff took another last, long swallow. He then pushed his bottle into Ka's hands. "Here, Love. Hold my beer."
Crik hated this.
Shannon had taken off, that was for certain. Headed to the bar, most likely. Maybe trying to punt a few lines at Jen, almost definitely. Crik sighed again. Whenever he needed the Irishman to have his back, he was suspiciously absent.
Marx, Chrys, and AJ had lined up before him, waiting for dismissal. Or for whatever words or chastisement he had for them. It was more of the latter than the former, unfortunately. And it was mostly meant for AJ. Damn it. Where in seven hells was his oldest comrade when he needed him?
"You all flew well today," he began. Best to begin on a positive note. "But AJ… you are too reckless."
"But I fly well!" the boy protested. He slung his golden ponytail over his shoulder. "Come on, Crik, you know I fly that Space Prober better than any of the new pilots!"
Chrys shot him an angry glare.
"No offense, guys." AJ had the decency to appear sheepish. "But I love flying. I am a born pilot. And you two have a lot more years of experience on me."
"AJ," Crik warned, "you're not making any allies here."
"I fly that Space Prober as good as my mom! Maybe even better!" AJ insisted.
Crik buried his face in his hands. How did Jeff expect him to reprimand or discipline a boy like him? It was impossible.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Crik," Cliff intervened, "I see you need some help here."
The Miran looked up. "I'm sorry, Captain Jack, but I need to reprimand my pilot for his reckless behavior out there."
Patting his shoulder, Cliff looked AJ straight in the eye. "Leave it to me, mate. I might have more experience in this department than you."
Reading between the lines, Crik backed off and motioned for the Land Team captain to take the floor.
Cliff moved forward, right into AJ's personal space. "Aidan! What the hell is wrong with you?"
AJ panicked. "Uh… Sir…"
"Oh, don't Sir me!" Cliff hit his full stride, grabbing the boy by the lapels of his uniform. "What is going through your bloody head, Aidan? You know better. For fuck's sake, do better. And for the love of all things holy, don't disgrace Lisa."
He dropped the boy's collar and turned back to the bar. "There. That ought to straighten things out."
Crik, Marx, and Chrys stood there, mouths open, as AJ turned crimson in embarrassment. Unruffled, Cliff headed back to the bar, where Ka held his beer out for him.
"Bravo." She clinked her second shotglass against his bottle. "But that didn't sound like you were reprimanding AJ, Cliff. That sounded more like you were reprimanding his father."
"Aidan Senior, Aidan Junior, what's the difference at this point?" He took a long, well-earned swallow. "Both of them embarrass my poor Lisa. And one needs to talk to both of them in a certain way in order for them to get it."
Ka smirked. "I take it that nobody can reprimand a Dalloway as good as you can?"
"Facts. I've been doing that for almost forty years now." Cliff lifted his beer, assessing its contents. He swore that it was not as full as it had been when he left to assist Crik. "Ka, Love, did you drink any of my beer?'
Nonchalantly, she tipped her head back and swallowed her second tequila shot in one gulp. As she wiped her lips, she responded, "I might have."
* See "Voltron - From Days of Long Ago: A Thirtieth Anniversary Celebration" by J. Cooray, M. Morrell, J. Bernard, B. Smith, and J. Chabot for more information
Drittsekk: Asshole
Gutten Min: My Boy