Relative disclaimers apply.

He had sustained severe trauma to his nervous system. That was what had kept him in bed for so long. The doctors feared that he would fall into a seizure at any moment. But he was getting better. At least he thought he was. How many months had it been? With nothing to look at besides four white walls and the unfamiliar ceiling? If he had not been drugged for so much of the time he likely would have gone mad.

The door swung open with a jingle from the tiny bell that hung from its knob. His stern expression did not change as he turned to look at his visitor. It was the petite dark-haired nurse who had attended most aspects of his care since his arrival. He did not think much of her. She fussed over his eating far too much and generally would not leave him alone. He hated being a patient.

"How are you doing this morning, Sven?" Her voice sounded unnaturally cheery, which only served to darken his mood.

He turned to look back up at the ceiling. One arm curled around the back of his head to give him added support. "I want to walk outside today."

The nurse nearly dropped the plate of food she had been carrying. "But you-"

"Have been cooped up in this place long enough," he finished. "It's been months since Princess Allura transported me here to recover, and since then my life's been a mess of boredom and therapy. I rarely get to see the sun or even walk outside my room, let alone both at the same time. Today I want to."

She recovered her composure and sighed. "You know Dr. Kenfield doesn't think you're ready. There's a reason why we don't let you out more often. Too much sunlight might be an overload for your system."

Sven grunted and waved his free hand up at the ceiling. "He has no problem with these lights up here, and they're brighter than the sun at sunset."

"So you want to go out at sunset?" She set her hands on her hips, on verge of another protest, but her frustration evaporated nearly as quickly as it erupted. "Well, it may be too cold for you, but I'll ask him about it. If you get sick though, you're going to have to learn to stay put!"

He nodded as she set up the fold-out table and placed his tray of food on it. The food did smell good this time, contrary to most of that carbohydrated stuff they called edible. She swiveled the little platform over the bed so that Sven could eat while reclining.

Sven mumbled his thanks and waited until she left the room. He clicked the button beside his bed to raise the part of the mattress that supported his back. Once at a suitable angle he yawned and stretched his arms above his head. Damn his muscles felt so sore. He knew he was badly out of shape, despite the muscle therapy that passed for exercise in this place. He wanted a chance to have a workout room to himself and practice the kempo art that gave him the feeling of control over his life.

His breakfast was organic, not the synthetic stuff they had been shoving down him since as long as he could remember being here. Perhaps he was getting better. He ate slowly, ruminating over his food and wondering how the Voltron Force was doing without him. Zarkon still reigned, that much was obvious from the reports he overheard the medical staff discussing. But the Voltron Force was holding the tyrant king back. Princess Allura had taken his place as the Blue Lion's pilot.

He wanted to fly again. That was one of the reasons he joined the Space Academy back on Earth, to fly. And here he was unable to even get of out his room without reprimand. Not that planet Ebb had much to offer in the way of recreation anyway.

Sven thought dourly about his luck as he chewed a piece of meat. At least he could start moving around a bit. He managed walking around the room several times when no one was looking. And if Dr. Kenfield really did grant his wish about going outside today... He knew he was strong enough.

"No wheelchair," he told the nurse when she arrived that afternoon. The digital clock beside his bed indicated that sunset was still a half hour away, and he hoped that he could catch a bit of sun before it came too close to the horizon. He had no idea if today was sunny, overcast, or even raining, though he sincerely doubted it was the lattermost.

"Do you feel strong enough?" she asked. She looked at him suspiciously.

He glowered. "We won't find out unless I try, will we."

Sven climbed out of bed, spreading his arms wide to balance himself. There was no sign of the grace and discipline that had been so much of his person only months ago. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain that had suddenly pulsed in his right arm. He looked at the nurse, his face outwardly kept the same serious gaze she was used to seeing. She had not noticed. As far as she could tell he was just being feeble.

He stood and tottered over to his closet. He opened the doors to get his clothes and cast a glance over at the nurse. "I can dress myself now. I don't need your assistance."

She fixed a stern gaze on him.

"You want me to dress warmly don't you?" Sven spread his arms wide, exposing the bagginess of his pajamas. "These aren't exactly the best thing to wear."

The nurse rolled her eyes, nodded sharply, and stepped outside of the room to wait for him, dragging the folded wheelchair after her.

Sven let out a breath of relief. The pain in his arm was lessening now. He had probably strained his muscles more than he should have in his effort to behave as he once did. The clothes he chose were casual wear that someone had the foresight to send with him to Ebb. They fit loosely over his body, evidence of the wasted muscle tissue since his incapacitation, but they were warmer than the hospital pajamas. He actually felt a little flushed because of that, but he knew the atmosphere outside would be colder than the controlled environment inside the hospital.

"I'm done," he said as he took measured steps towards the doorway. He met the nurse before she could come inside and drew himself up straight. "Do you think we could go out to the garden?" He caught her look and made an effort to smile. "I'm not allergic to anything, you know."

To his surprise she smiled in return. "All right. You're such a difficult patient, but I'll let it go. Don't expect any more favors any time soon though." She winked.

Sven chuckled slightly and followed her lead. She took him through numerous halls, and if he could recall from his last excursion, his room was on the fourth floor. They took the elevator down and he found his stamina was holding up better than he expected. He didn't feel any signs of fatigue and he took better care not to strain any one of his muscle groups as he had when he got up from bed.

The garden was not far from the elevator on the first floor and the hallway was not crowded. The last time Sven had been allowed to come down the elevator there were many relatives here to visit their loved ones. People lounged all over the hallway and Sven never would have managed walking through them. Perhaps today was a weekend, perhaps visitors weren't allowed yet. He did not know what day of the week it was nor when visiting hours were supposed to be. No one ever visited him besides doctors and nurses.

"Here." The nurse pushed open the glass door for him and waited for him to walk through.

The sun was ahead of him, illuminating the garden before him in a variety of golden hues. White flowers shone pink or orange in the waning light, and the expanse of the sky itself was a reddish color sparsely speckled with purple clouds. He spread his arms a little when an unexpected breeze caught him outside the complex, but he held his balance and grinned back at the nurse, as much to reassure himself as her.

She remained by the entrance to the hospital as Sven walked the myriad paths tangled around the flower beds. He felt alive. The scent of the flowers made his life unfold in three dimensions. Finally, he could experience something other than the stark white walls of his bedroom!

He spread his arms wide and spun in a slow circle like a child, gaze turned upward to the heavens. But his eyes caught the glint off metal, and his expression of joy changed to one of suspicion, and then fear. He knew what he saw, but could say nothing before the first rain of death came down from the sky.

A laser struck one end of the garden, creating a crater nearly as big as one of Voltron's lions and throwing Sven completely off his feet. As he focused his mind and lifted his head he heard the nurse screaming for him to get back within the safety of the hospital. He shook himself, gathering his feet beneath him. Lasers streamed across the heavens, cutting holes through clouds, and tainting the darkening sky with tears of blood.

Some sense of nobility asserted itself within him and Sven turned his gaze towards a maintenance car. It was not build for speed, or even for use on a normal road, but he could not be picky.

"Sorry," he murmured, knowing that the nurse would not hear him. He saw her edging into the building even now. She could not afford to wait for him.

Sven made a break for the vehicle, nearly stumbling in his attempt to keep his legs under him. He knew there was a military spaceport nearby, he had seen a ship land there the last time he was allowed outside. Now if he could only remember where it was...

The car responded to his commands and made a swift about face as he steered it towards the only road leading from the garden. He floored the acceleration and hoped that he would still have time. The Voltron Force could not protect everywhere at once, he knew that, so Ebb would have to settle for their own meager fleet. But they would not be alone, not if he could help it. He lived to fly, combat or no, and Ebb would need all the assistance they could get. King Zarkon's ships were nothing to mess with without enough firepower.

By the time he found the spaceport it was covered in debris. Scattered remnants of ships dotted the runways, which in turn were pocked-marked by the impact of missiles and lasers. The uneven ground bounced the small vehicle terribly, and Sven found himself calling on his reserves of adrenalin. It did not take much to trigger that. One needed only to look at the carnage around the spaceport.

Sven did not seen any bodies, which was just as well. He supposed the pilots never made it to their combat ships in time. A larger destroyer class vessel had been split in two by a laser. One half decorated the nearby hillside. The other had crushed a squadron of fighter planes beneath its bulk. Sven skirted around the vessel half, going the way to avoid seeing the injury the laser blast had caused. He ignored the streams of death still falling around him because death was already too close.

The sky filled with more Zarkon's slaveships as each minute ticked by. Sven careened the maintenance car to a halt, nearly overturning the little vehicle as he spotted one fighter craft still in flying condition. And it had an almost intact runway in front of it.

He stepped out of the car, his legs nearly giving beneath him as he forgot his current predicament. He swore softly, gathered his strength, and walked carefully over to the base of the sleek fighter. He looked around for a way up when it occurred to him what was missing. No ladder! He needed a ladder to climb into the cockpit, but there was no ladder!

Another blast from one of Zarkon's ships shook the ground, but he balanced himself in time to keep from falling.

Frustrated with his weakened state he turned and looked at the ship's wings. They were low enough that he could reach them, but could he pull himself up? He knew he would have been able to before his injury.

The wail of a missile screamed above him. No time to waste guessing, he would just have to find out!

Sven tentatively touched the front of a wing. It was over his head, but if he could pull himself up... He jumped with all his strength and grabbed hold of its top. He scrambled for a grip and managed to get his elbows above the rim. To keep himself from dangling for too long he kicked his legs and managed to drag his torso on to the wing. He lay there, panting for a moment, and rolled over to bring his legs up. So far so good. If he could manage flying in this condition it would be a real miracle.

He crawled on his hands and knees over the barrel of the fighter, not trusting his balance to hold in such precarious surroundings. Once behind the cockpit he lifted the panel covering the button to open the pilot's hatch. He pressed it grimly, and to his relief the back section of the windshield lifted and slid forward, allowing him access.

Sven wearily dropped himself into the cockpit and activated the controls. Navigation equipment whirred to life and minute lights brightened his displays. He closed the hatch above him and strapped himself in his seat. There was no helmet in here, so he would have to take care not to fly too high. He doubted this craft was pressurized. Ebb never invested much interest in space combat.

Secure in the familiar environment he longed for, Sven pressed the foot pedals to accelerate his craft. The engines whined and he aimed his taxi down the runway. There was no traffic to worry about. It seemed like all the pilots and their ships were either up fighting Zarkon or they never got off the ground.

Once he gained enough speed he pulled back on the flight stick and eased his craft into the sky. System checks revealed fully charged lasers and an armament of a dozen missiles. Good enough. He'd have to make every shot count.

The ship's thrusters burst with a sudden rush of energy as he geared himself towards the nearest one of Zarkon's cruisers. Numerous slaveships had already put down on the planet, and the air was now thick with enemy fighters. They swarmed him, gleefully singly out the newcomer as their primary target. Sven threw himself into a barrel roll to avoid their initial laser spray and brought himself out at an angle.

His vision swam as he fought to keep his blood where he needed it the most; his head. He felt clammy, dizzy, as he had when he first tried to walk when he arrived at Ebb. Sven gritted his teeth and opened fire on one of the enemy bogies. It went down in a pile of flames. He managed a weak smile of relief.

A sudden shock rocked his craft and damage reports flashed across his monitors. Enemy fire had scored his right wing. He risked a quick glance outside and spotted the smoke trailing from its tip. The readouts confirmed he could still fly, but it would not be easy.

Another screen emitted a series of warning beeps and Sven dove in time to dodge a barrage of missiles. He banked sharply, circled around, and locked on to his pursuer. He clicked the button on the lower grip of his flight stick and launched one of his missiles. Sven could not wait to see if it had followed its target. Another fighter had locked on to him in turn.

He pulled back into an aerial loop and prayed the engines would not stall. Red filled his sight as the pull of gravity shifted. He ducked his head low over the stick, screaming at himself to stay conscious. The ship leveled out and he focused his gaze ahead him. Where was the enemy?

Shots fired from above, pelted his craft. Then a jolt struck the end of the ship, throwing Sven first up, then down into a dive. He checked his monitors and cursed. The rear stabilizer had been hit. His opponent had performed a loop right behind him!

More lasers fired, and it was all he could do to evade them. Those enemies below him scattered, unwilling to let their falling antagonist gain a last few hits on them. Sven wanted to cry out, but it was all he could do to keep conscious. He pulled back on the stick, praying that something in the rear of the ship still functioned.

The nose came up, slowly, slowly. The ground came up as well. Green, swift, a flash of blue, then black. Red, and finally black.

Sven awoke, pulling his hand from his head as he did so. He felt something sticky and lifted himself from where he slumped over the controls of his ruined fighter. He brought his hand in front of his face and saw the drying russet stains and knew them for what they were. Blood.

His head throbbed and his whole body ached, but he did his best to ignore them. At least he was alive. He pressed the button to open the pilot's capsule but it would not work. Perhaps the eject? He had not tried it while he plummeted. Ejecting likely would have been suicide in the type of crossfire they were having up there.

Were. Yes, were. The area was quiet now, save for scattered sounds of occasional laserfire in the distance. He had little doubt that the defenders had failed.

Sven took the parachute pack and slammed it into the cracked windshield. Nothing. He was still weak, both from the crash and from his exertion. He fumbled about the cockpit for something heavier. "Emergency" said a sign almost hidden by the pilot's chair. It sat by a small lever. He could not tell what color it was in the dim light from the sky. He did not know how long he had been unconscious but he believed it around a couple hours.

The lever moved easily when he pulled, and the hatch above him exploded skyward with a loud hiss. It fell far to one side away from him. Sven slung himself out of the wreckage, and collapsed to his knees outside. The shadow of the fighter covered him with its comforting darkness. His looked back at the long nose of the craft. It had crumpled almost up to its base. Its length was probably what saved him from being crushed himself.

The black blanket of night had covered the sky, and he looked about his surroundings like a man in a dream. He sat in the garden he walked through only this afternoon. Beyond was the remains of the hospital. The structure had split nearly in two, with a massive gash running wide from the roof down to a narrower point on the first floor. Several crumbling levels were visible through the break, with beds, equipment, or more rarely--people; all dangling from the breach, hanging by a thread or a pipe that could break with a breath.

Sven stood on shaky legs. He spotted something near the ruined entryway and approached it with vacant eyes. It was caught, pinned beneath a large slab of concrete that had fallen from the upper walls of the hospital. It was the upper body of a human, his nurse. Her face was turned towards him in an expression of pain or shock. Eyes as vacant as his own fixed their glassy gaze upon him.

He knelt beside her, drew a wayward strand of hair back from her cheek, and tucked it behind an ear. Ebb, they called this world. The wind was cold and withdrawing, pulling away the warmth of the day as per the ebb of the tide. What remained when light was gone? Only night, darkness. And the stars, would they ebb too?

Sven placed both hands on his knees. Something wet trailed down his face and splashed a tiny drop on his hand. He clenched his hands into fists. More droplets fell, some now on the concrete beneath him. He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and did not move. He stayed beside her the entire night.

The dawn came only as a lighter graying of the sky. Zarkon's robot soldiers arrived. He did not resist when they lead him to the rest of their captives. What was there to fight for? The night, like all things, would ebb, leaving only nothing.