Zahn Crik slipped from his trance and slowly, almost defiantly, opened his eyes. Sensing his withdrawal, the folk about him stirred and began waking from their peaceful group immersion. They were unhappy about it, but he didn’t care, and that in itself was something of a surprise.

All he’d done since fleeing Laprys with his surviving people was help them to calm and center themselves, trying to do the job his father would have done had he not perished in the Drule invasion. By now, sitting cross-legged and silent in the presidential suite of the Royal Plaza Hotel on blighted Terra, the young Zahn’s tolerance for pacifism had reached abysmal new depths.

He glanced through the suite’s picture window at a breath-taking view of towering, snowy skyscrapers and bustling traffic. It was utterly false, of course; projected by computer over New York City’s dreadful squalor and smog. Such illusion could only mask reality, though, not take it away. The city hadn’t given in to despair, yet, but Crik sensed that its people were near the end of their thread. Too many refugees, too many war-time privations, too much dread.

Shifting his calm regard away from that deceptive window, Crik gazed past his wakened people. Like him, they had green skin and yellow eyes set off by silky, bluish hair. Tall and willowy, they had pointed ears and an air of utter, placid tranquility. For, unlike Crik, they had made peace with the vicissitudes of life; a peace he just couldn’t seem to attain anymore. Allowing his eyes to drift to the side of Prezahn Cinda’s elegant face (for to look upon her squarely would have been a monstrous breach of etiquette), Crik announced,

“I grow weary of meditation.” He stood up, waiting to see if anyone would speak, or attempt to stop him. Naturally, they did nothing of the sort. Emboldened, Crik removed the late Zahn’s ceremonial medallion from around his neck, and let it drop to the polished marble floor. Gold struck stone with a loud, chiming clash. And even yet, no one spoke or moved. “I will seek....,” Crik paused then, for his language hardly contained words to describe what he truly wanted. “I will seek a course that will bring Laprys back to us.”

Several of the Reverend Elders gasped, deeply shocked by his reckless words. Rather perversely, Crik took comfort from this. If the old folk hated what he was doing, the Zahn decided, he MUST be flowing in the right direction. Lifting both hands palm outward, in an ancient gesture of farewell, Crik turned and walked off, leaving the sumptuously-appointed sitting room behind. Forever, he hoped.

Surprisingly, someone followed; Cinda, his new watcher. Willing enough to explain himself, Crik stopped in the foyer to let her catch up. She came to stand at his side, lacing long fingers together before her chest in the manner that signified harmony.

“Honored Zahn,” she began, wide yellow eyes fixed on some dreamy middle distance. “May there be peace between us, forever. If allowed, I would accompany you on this quest for motion and utility. I would continue to watch for you, and place myself forward in your defense.”

The tiniest corner of his vision intersected hers, then. As much as a bold stare, for a Terran. He said in his soft, sing-song voice,

“You may watch, Cinda, but I will also watch for you. Away from the People, there can be no Zahn, or Prezahn. Only....,” a long, deep thought, as he searched for a word that implied the sort of private intimacy his folk had long ago given up. “Only friends.”

Cinda nodded her understanding, an actual expression touching her face, momentarily. A human would have said that she’d smiled, though that was surely impossible.

“Then let us follow the stream together, Friend Crik, and see what may come to hand.”

“Be it so.”

Side by side, Crik and Cinda left their Terran refuge, trusting that fate would guide them onward.

_______________________________________________________________

Sensing that the aged mech was about to warp away, Dorma did something foolish. The Combot’s pilot had barked something about seeking help, if her translator spoke truly. The question was, what sort of help? Had the inferiors another fleet nearby? Or allies, perhaps? She had to find out, for Hazaar’s sake. The Most High Emperor Zevok tolerated no failure, even from one so highly connected and successful as her lord brother. Like everyone else, Hazaar was just a single defeat away from torture and execution..... a fate which Dorma would do anything at all to prevent.

Scowling, she directed her rumbling Hunter after the fleeing mech, slipping into warp just behind the inferiors. She would find this ‘help’, and destroy it utterly.

________________________________________________________________

They made it through the warp, barely. As alarms and warning lights went off all over the cockpit, Sven discovered why the old fighter had been left in the hangar deck. Besides a hundred miles and five dimensions worth of wiring problems, their sudden warp had blasted lose a series of magnetic patches, and she was now jetting geysers of white-hot energy far into space. Had they been carrying a neon sign and broadcasting their mission across the entire spectrum, they couldn’t have been more obvious. He couldn’t even tell where they were, for the energy they were leaking was playing hell with his instruments. His head still pounded as though a Hunter was in the near vicinity; a side effect of the recent battle, probably. After a day like he’d had, even a natural would begin sensing Drules beneath every bunk and potted plant.

Deciding that the fuel leaks were the worst of his immediate problems, Sven asked the fighter to pinpoint their exact location so he could begin telekinetic repairs. Lance interrupted him.

“Dude, what’s going on?!” the gunner demanded, over all those beeping, wailing alarms. “Were we hit?!”

‘Nej,’ the pilot sent, freeing enough of his mind to allow conversation. ‘Just a few minor mechanical problems.’

“Minor?! Damn, buddy, I’d hate to see what you consider serious!”

Sven managed a very slight smile, replying aloud, “Plasma bolt up the tail pipe. Det ar serious. Anything else ar negotiable. Now shut up and let me work, min van. We have a rescue mission to pull off.”

“Gotcha, partner. I’ll go below and see how Akira and the rest came through. With our luck they’ve probably been toasted to a crispy golden brown. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Jaha. Tack.”

As Lance left the cockpit, Sven sank his mind back into the mech’s ailing computer, and began his repairs. Her thought processes were circular and patchy, but Karring (old woman) grasped enough to appreciate the help, and soon took hold of his mind to help reorder her own.

________________________________________________________________

At first, Lady Dorma took the Combot’s searing energy jets for some sort of aid beacon, or sly assault. Hanging back to watch what would happen, she eventually decided that the inferior junk heap was simply coming apart at the seams, and decided to end the threat then and there. With a cruel, triumphant little smile, she readied her Hunter’s plasma cannon, and prepared to fire.

A sudden proximity alarm choked her command off in mid-thought Through the swirling ripples of an opening warp field, a sleek, silvery starship appeared, unlike any she’d ever seen. The force of its arrival blasted her several thousand miles away from her quarry, and any chance of finding her own way back to the battle. _________________________________________________________________

Lounging in her command seat on Scylla’s crowded bridge, Merla gave the signal to fire. Not laser or plasma weapons, but a highly modified psionic screamer. She was after slaves today, not corpses.

“Give them a three-minute burst, Sazri. Sedate without harming, until we learn what we’ve netted.”

“Yes, Mistress!” the young Galran replied, engaging the screamer. Moments later, a pulse of artificial psionic energy blazed outward, shutting down the mech’s systems and the minds of all those aboard.

__________________________________________________________________

Sven barely had time to react. Sunk into Karring, with most of his consciousness directed toward repairing her battered systems, he noticed the alien vessel less than a millisecond before it fired upon them. His last thought, before his over-extended mind was struck by the psionic equivalent of a tidal wave, was that he didn’t have time for this.

Down in the hold, Keith, Lance, Hunk and Pidge were bludgeoned senseless by a wave of fiery, crippling pain. Their conscious minds were brutally squashed aside, leaving four shrieking, clawing animals to be felled by the blistering second wave.

No one was conscious to feel Scylla’s tractor beam seize hold of the derelict Combot. Had they been awake enough to care, they might have felt some concern when they were hauled aboard the slaveship and deposited in the forward hold.

Kalista, Lex and Merla forced an emergency access hatch and boarded the weird alien battlemech. Heading for the cockpit, they passed through a surprisingly large interior storage space, where three full males and a child lay in twitching heaps on the deck. Merla turned the nearest over with the toe of her boot. He was rather short, but well-formed, with brown hair and a pleasing face. Cleaned up and properly trained, he’d be worth quite a bit. She looked over when Kalista called her attention to one of the others.

“Mistress, this one appears to be a human variant.”

Merla strode over, saw a tall, slender male with sand-colored hair and arrestingly sharp features. Better and better. Leaning closer, she paused a moment. There was something vaguely familiar about the young male. Not that she knew him, precisely.... More like she’d glimpsed his face in some half-forgotten dream. The familiarity troubled her, so Merla kicked him back over on his stomach, and turned away. He’d be someone else’s problem soon enough.

The other two males were less saleable. One was very bulky, with a heavy, unattractive face. The other was little more than a nursling. There was enough of a market for laborers and page boys to make them worth bagging and branding, though. A profit already, and she hadn’t even searched the rest of the ship! High spirits restored, the pirate led on.

Clambering above, she and Kalista found themselves in a semi-circular, two-seat cockpit with a single occupant. The pilot, presumably. Tall and muscular, he was dark-haired and extremely handsome. A psion, too, to judge by the sort of hardware that surrounded him. A rare and valuable find, for there were very few Sk’roven telepaths left in this part of the galaxy. The Galrans had seen to that. Bending over the unconscious male, Merla patted his face and purred, “Sleep well, my beautiful apeling. You and your comrades are going to make me very, very rich!”

Lex climbed into the cockpit just as Merla began feeling him over for hidden weapons. “Mistress?” The brown-eyed girl began, a worried frown puckering her forehead, “According to Sazri, the sensors are picking up an anomaly that might be a cloaked alien battlemech, eight hundred miles away and closing rapidly.”

The pirate captain straightened up and cocked an eyebrow. “Really? First a scrodding beacon, and now this?! The slaves fairly leap into their chains today! Tell Sazri to double her blast length to account for awareness and shielding, then fire at will.”

“Yes, Mistress! At once!”

The order was given, but when Sazri examined her instruments again, the anomaly had vanished. Merla shrugged it off as a scanner ghost and got back to business. Stowing the captured Combot in Scylla’s forward hold, she had the new slaves clapped in irons, then warped for Galra.

_____________________________________________________________

Lotor was very drunk when the spy slipped into his office, somehow bypassing Vraghur and a cordon of fiercely alert guards. She was a strikingly beautiful human girl, with long, black hair and big violet eyes. Eye-poppingly curvy, too.

Covering a loud liquor belch as best he could, Lotor got to his feet and slurred out, “Wha’ you wan’, Tzez... Tze.... Sweetie?”

The lovely girl’s lips became a thin, hard line for a moment. Then she smiled, saying, “Only to provide assistance in your time of need, Highness! I have news of the whereabouts of your dear wife.”

Lotor jerked himself upright again, fighting the need to collapse on the nearest horizontal surface. His wife? A’lara?

“S’not gone!” he raged, spraying the girl with spit. “She’s skrugging SICK!”

“Of course, of course, Dear Sire! But if I were looking for an empress, I would go below Dra-Lotor, into the catacombs that lie beneath the city. And there, in the stronghold of the rebels, I would certainly find what I sought.”

She made a small gesture with her slender hands, and Lotor fell face first onto his desk and began to snore. He never saw her leave the room.... and neither did anyone else.

_______________________________________________________________

Keith awoke with a grinding headache, to find himself chained in some sort of dripping cavern. Beside the fact that his prison was dark, the next thing he noticed was how cold it was. Below fifty, he estimated, shivering a little. His hands were bound tightly before him, manacled to a chain that extended some seven feet to a metal ring set in the dank stone wall. All this Akira learned by feeling around, for he could see nothing whatsoever.

As for the others, an occasional cough or groan proved that he wasn’t alone in his charming prison grotto. Who his fellow inmates might be remained to be seen, however. For the moment they were anonymous, out beyond chain stretch, and too beaten or drugged to respond to his urgent whispers.

Crouching on the cold floor, Keith tried to recall how, exactly, he’d ended up in this place. He’d been helping Hank LaChance to rescue a young Baltan boy. Then the Drules had attacked his ship and he’d had to report to his battle station. That much was certain. But next, in a matter of minutes, Sven had appeared at his side, bringing Hank, the boy, and Lance Calvin. They’d all gone off together and hijacked a Combot, then fought a little, warped away from the battle, and been hit by..... what? Some sort of psionic weapon? And now, adding to the merriment, he was back in prison again.

‘Wait a second,’ Keith thought to himself, ‘again? I haven’t woke up in a cell since junior high school!’

Yet...., brief flashes kept coming to him, from his book, maybe; memories of himself and the others getting repeatedly into tighter scrapes than his grandmother’s girdle. For just a moment, Keith entertained the notion that he really WAS some sort of heroic mech commander. But no..., too far-fetched. It had been well over a year since he’d flown anything that wasn’t folded out of paper. Much good his capture would do the Drules! If they interrogated him, all they’d learn would be the specifics of Delta Company’s entertainment budget. The unit had a bake sale coming up that he didn’t think Hazaar would give a damn about.... unless he craved leathery brownies, that is. Suddenly depressed, Keith sighed and wiggled a little, wishing like hell that somebody else would wake up.

It was just about then that he heard the crying. Sort of faint, and definitely female. A continuous low sobbing, interspersed with what sounded like pleas for help. Cocking his head, Keith paused to listen. It was coming from the wall behind him. Curious, Akira hitched himself around and followed his ears. Funny how, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good, he kept opening his eyes wider and wider, trying to see. Feeling around, he located an unmortared crack between clammy stones just wide enough to reach his hands through. Better find out who was on the other side first, Keith advised himself, not eager to lose a hand. Leaning down close to the crack, he whispered,

“Uh...., Hello?! Is someone there?”

The weeping ceased. Then a hoarse, trembling voice called back,

“Me! I’m here!” Her accent was odd, but she was speaking common English. “A’lara!”

“Allura?” he repeated, murdering the pronunciation. He’d written a fairy-tale princess into his book, a dainty blonde called Alyssa. Keith’s heart began to pound as a desperate longing came over him to see the girl on the other side of the wall. She’d found the crack by this time. He could tell, because her voice was closer.

“Keith? Is that you?” By dint of much scraping and wiggling, Lara had managed to get her arms around in front of herself. Now she reached through the crack, whispering brokenly, “You’re not just a dream, then?”

He didn’t have to see, to know she was reaching for him. Taking her cut and abraded little hands in his own, the major said,

“It’s me, Princess. I’m here.” And all of a sudden, as Lance had done on seeing Sven at the mattermission station, Keith saw beyond the current, awful reality. “Give me a second to get my team off their lazy butts, and we’ll break out of here and go home, Honey.”

She began to cry again. “I knew you’d come! Oh, Keith, even when you were just a dream, I knew you would come for me!” Her hands clutched his as though she were drowning. “I love you,” she whispered. “Everything else was just foolishness!”

“Yeah. Same here, Angel.”

Then a key turned in the cell’s rusted lock, and a harsh bluish light flooded his little prison.

________________________________________________________________

Dorma had followed the alien slave ship all the way to Galra. She wasn’t entirely certain that the human pilot had been dealt with, and this new species warranted a second look, as well. Cloaking the Hunter, she put down in a secluded spot (not far from the pit of skulls, as it happened), gave the big mech orders to defend itself, and deplaned. Standing on the cold, murky surface of Lotor’s bleak throne world, Dorma drew her sidearm and had a swift look around.

‘Interesting,’ she thought to herself, watching a squadron of shrieking bat fighters twist, roll and bank through Galra’s acid clouds. A training exercise, she supposed, favorably impressed by the aliens’ dogfighting skills. They were very, very good, which meant that they must either form an alliance with her own people, or be utterly destroyed. Not by Dorma alone, though. Reaching out with her thoughts to the quiescent warmech, she sent,

‘Scan the surroundings and aerial battle, Streith. I will be making a full report when we return to the Dredh.’

The Hunter’s voice in her head was deep and slow, possessing all the power and stillness of a poised boulder. ‘Already done, Jhedra. Local communications are being recorded, as well. Soon there will be sufficient gathered data to present in council. Then it would be wise to leave quickly, as a warrior alone risks being captured, and betraying the mission.’

She pushed at the stern battle computer with her thoughts. ‘You sound like Hazaar. Has he been at your programs, again?’

‘A minor upgrade, Jhedra, no more. My targeting is now thirty percent faster, and my firing rate has been doubled.’

Curious, Dorma deepened her link to Streith, sending her mind through his recently augmented systems to get a feel for the changes. In the lust and fury of battle, she honestly hadn’t noticed them. Not that the inferiors had mounted enough of a defense for Hazaar’s upgrades to matter much. Except for the pilot she was tracking, the humans had perished in droves.

‘And I’ll soon have another corpse to toss on the heap!’ Dorma announced proudly, partly to Streith, but mostly to the universe. ‘Upon my blood and honor, there will be no last-moment salvation for Kraelyth!’ Then, sensing Streith’s concern, his pilot added, ‘..But I’ll be VERY careful.’

The warmech responded with a wordless brush to her thoughts, his confidence in her abilities quite evident. He wouldn’t have let her set foot in the cockpit had she been anything less than perfect, and Dorma knew it. ‘I will not fail,’ she told the big Hunter. Then, pulling her quarry’s current whereabouts from the mech’s scanning system, she set off to destroy him.

_____________________________________________________________

Lotor, too, was on his way, though for very different reasons. After he’d come to, cold and stiff on his office floor, the emperor had felt a powerful urge to follow the spy’s half-remembered directions and go after his missing wife. Now that he knew where to find her, a cold, jeering whisper told Lotor that unless he faced Lara’s captors alone, he’d lose her forever; and that he couldn’t allow. Whatever his feelings for Lara, damned if he’d let anyone else have her.

Truthfully, he was in the mood for blood, so the emperor washed his face, had another drink, arrayed himself for battle, and slipped out of the palace. By the end of the day, Lotor vowed, he’d have a fresh new set of rebel heads for the parade gate.

______________________________________________________________

After hours of darkness, the blue-white glare nearly blinded him. Keith backed to the end of his chain, squinting. From somewhere behind the light, a cold, amused voice purred,

“Ah! It seems that one of our apelings has waked from his nap! Good morning, little slave!”

Funnily enough, he understood what was said, vaguely recognizing the voice, as well. Squaring his shoulders, Akira snapped back,

“I’m a Galaxy Alliance officer, damn it! Either release me and my men to go about our business, or summon a Terran ambassador! By intergalactic law, you have no right to hold us incommunicado!”

The light shifted a bit just then, allowing Keith to catch a quick glimpse of his captors. One was tall and fuzzy, with an oddly beautiful, cat-like face. Missing an arm, she was dressed in some sort of skin-tight cyberlink uniform with the empty right sleeve pinned on her twisted shoulder. Her eyes were golden, her long, tangled hair an eye-searing shade of magenta. To her left, and slightly behind, was a female Drule. Hard muscled and grim, this one was as tough as she was pretty. Black hair hanging to her waist, ruby eyes cold as flint, she was staring at him like a butcher assessing a veal calf. Her clothing was decidedly odd; body-skimming fishnet beneath battered black armor. Behind the two Battle Barbies he could see at least ten more silhouettes, all armed, all female. Wonderful.

The cat-girl laughed at his outraged expression. “Inter-galactic law?” she mocked. “Terran ambassador? Let me introduce you to reality, Sk’rova; you and your ‘men’ are my slaves, captured, branded, and ready for sale to the highest bidder, be it landowner, brothel, or skrugging Lotor himself.” She turned to the Drule while Keith sputtered and swore, adding, “Wake the rest of these lap-males and have them made presentable, Kalista. We’ll show them to Kirrisian, first, then offer them on the slave-net. Bring Pinkie, too. Might as well primp her up for her touching last moments.”

The Drule inclined her head respectfully. “Yes, Mistress,” she replied.

_____________________________________________________________

To Dorma’s immense surprise, there were a few Drules in the bustling city. Servant-caste, mostly, though she did spot a lone warrior at the stick of an aircar, once. Coming across a half-blood slave in a deserted back alley, she bound and interrogated him, using psionics and brute force to wrest forth the information she needed. That he was very young and in awe of her status helped considerably, of course. In the end, having learned that the world was called Galra, and the city Dra-Lotor after its ruler, and that its blue-skinned reptilian denizens pretty much had their foot upon the galaxy’s collective neck, Dorma wiped the slave’s mind and released him. He knew nothing of the help sought by the human mech pilot, and there was no sense marking her trail with unnecessary corpses. Yet.

As the slave stumbled off, Dorma reoriented herself and headed deeper into the city. She had one last loose end to slash before finding a way back to Kraelyth.

______________________________________________________________

Lotor discovered an entrance to the catacombs exactly where a sudden, inexplicable impulse told him he would; in the bottom-most wine cellar, behind a huge rack of dusty black bottles. Needing a bit more fortification before heading into the unknown, the emperor paused long enough to uncork a bottle and take a long pull of the sour, muddy vintage within. Kicked like a sturg and tasted like crap, but he felt terribly confident afterward, so Lotor finished the stuff off, then had another. All in all, he was pretty fairly smashed by the time he finally staggered through the hidden portal. It opened onto a narrow stone tunnel, at first. Then, about fifty paces from the entrance, the floor dropped suddenly away. His reflexes dulled by drink, Lotor never noticed the pit until too late.

_____________________________________________________________

After being made ‘presentable’, Keith, A’lara and the wakened others were brought to some sort of meeting chamber. Dominated by a great, rectangular table, the stone-walled room was circular, and studded everywhere with priceless uncut gems. Akira wasn’t in the mood to play tourist, however. Automatically memorizing the route his captors took, he assessed the status of his team as best he could while stumbling along behind them in heavy chains.

Lance and Hunk seemed alright; woozy, but conscious. Pidge had a split lip, a big, purple knot on his forehead, and a slightly dazed look. Evidently, he’d assaulted the deck with his face once or twice. They’d get nothing from him for awhile. Straining his weak psi to the utmost, Keith determined that Sven was awake, but so brutally suppressed that he could barely see, or think. As for the princess, she seemed almost happy, utterly certain that Keith was going to come up with some clever scheme to save them. For all their sakes, he hoped she was right.

Upon reaching the meeting chamber, Keith looked hurriedly around, searching for ideas. He paused on spotting the room’s only other occupant. It was another woman, seemingly older than the others, or maybe just sterner. Her red-gold hair was chopped raggedly off at the shoulders, and she peered at them through it like a tigress through dried reeds. He took some small comfort from the fact that she was human. In theory, at least, she ought to be more sympathetic.....

______________________________________________________________

Merla was speaking, but Romelle barely heard her. Ever since the pirate had returned from her latest slave raid, a sense of mounting dread had troubled the rebel commander, and now she knew why. Standing among the captives was one whose face and form seemed to tear the heart right out of her breast. Breath coming fast, body dripping with cold sweat, Romelle hid behind her hair, not wanting him to see her.

Interrupting Merla’s antic sales pitch with a sharply lifted hand, Romelle growled, “Whatever your price for the lot of them, Captain, I will triple it if you’ll take these men away and release them unharmed someplace far from here.”

“Triple....?!” Merla blurted, when she could speak.

Romelle nodded. Why not? She was sitting over the largest vein of lazon ever discovered, and no one else knew of it but Garrett, Rae, and now Bandor. She could have paid the pirate ten times as much, and never felt it. “Triple,” she repeated firmly. “So long as you vow not to simply turn around and sell them to someone else.”

Injured, Merla drew herself up to her full height. “Resell a freed slave?! ME?!”

“Yes, you. How much?”

“Well...,” Merla began calculating, a little disappointed, if truth be told. She loved bargaining almost as much as flitting about the cyberverse or captaining her ship. To have Romelle simply give in this way...., well, it spoiled her fun. “I suppose.... what with rising fuel costs, and a crew to pay and feed...., and then one has to consider ship repairs, and harbor bribes.... All in all, shall we say.... seven hundred fifty thousand marks..., apiece?” Tripled or not, it was sheer robbery, even by Merla’s standards. Surely, the commander would balk at THAT! But, no.

“Done!” Romelle snapped. “Now take this, and them, and leave!” Lifting a blank credit disk, she psionically impressed it with a transfer request, then tossed it to Merla, trying very, very hard to hide how much the sight of him hurt. She couldn’t afford to weaken. Not now.

Merla deftly snatched Romelle’s credit disk from the air. Shrugging, the Felarra tucked it away and sketched an elaborate bow. “I live to serve, Commander!” Then, aside, “Kalista, turn ‘em loose. You and I,” she turned to face Keith, “will discuss prices. Kirrisian said I had to take you someplace safe. She didn’t say I had to give you back your ship. That’s extra, sweet-cheeks.”

Then, several things happened at once. Kalista shut off Sven’s suppressor and freed everyone but the princess, Romelle fled, Lotor burst into the room, waving his laser sword, while Dorma nudged open a side door and slipped within. The bruised and filthy emperor raced to Lara’s side. Stepping protectively before her, he growled,

“Which of my ‘mercenary subjects’ dares threaten my wife now?!”

Merla took the better part of valor. Wisely judging that the fortune she’d received from Romelle more than made up for Lara’s ransom, she began edging for the door. Keith stepped toward Lotor, jaw set, eyes hard.

“Your...WIFE?!” he snarled. “Princess, what’s this slimeball talking about?!”

Lara bit her lip, tears slipping from her wide blue eyes. “K-Keith...., he..., I...., I never meant to.... I d-didn’t have a ch-choice...! He said....,”

Talons digging into her arm until she bled, Lotor hissed,

“My wife I said, and my wife I mean, Sk’rova! This woman is mine, by right of capture and mating! But...,” and here the emperor’s voice dropped to a low, throbbing rumble, “you are more than welcome to try taking her back, Ape-thing!”

“I can’t take her back, jackass,” Keith replied, evenly. “She never belonged to me, or anyone else. I can fight for her freedom, though. Somebody give me a damn sword!”

A bit slower to follow her mistress than the others, Kalista tossed Keith her sheathed short sword. He fielded it, and drew the blade about halfway from its scabbard before snagging and nearly dropping the whole business on the ground. Watching Akira struggle to unsheathe the slim weapon, Lotor sneered,

“VERY impressive, slave! I see that my wife dreams of no common warrior! Oh, yes...,” he taunted, “you have her secret heart, Sk’rova, but I’ve had her body, many, many, times! She’s a screamer. Still want her?”

Keith flushed, but ignored Lotor’s barbs long enough to get the blade free. Then, tossing the scabbard aside, he snapped,

“Shut up and fight, Lotor! We’ll find out if your sword is as fast as your mouth!”

Lara tried to stop him, shrieking, “Keith, NO!! You cannot defeat him! He is a master with the sword! He’ll kill you! Please, Lotor, I’ll go back with you, I swear it! I...!”

“Be SILENT!” The emperor shouted, flinging the girl aside. Hunk caught her before she could crash into the wall, and held her safely away from the duel. He, too, had doubts about Keith’s ability to defeat the brutal Galran, but he was determined to give his commander a fighting chance, thinking that he and Lance could step in if things got too nasty. A’lara knew none of this, and wouldn’t have liked it if she had. LaChance was too powerful to get away from, though, so all she could do was watch, and cry.

Lotor advanced upon Keith, and in three lightning-swift moves, opened streaming slashes in the major’s arms and chest. Akira stumbled backward, then leapt aside and attempted a clumsy chop, which Lotor parried with ease.

“Is this the best you can do, slave?” he sneered. “It seems I won’t have time to break a sweat!” And he flicked the tip of his laser sword beneath Keith’s guard, igniting it with a thought and searing a long, sizzling brand from the major’s left knee to his shoulder. Out of his head with pain, Akira nearly dropped the sword.

Lara screamed. Stretching her hands out to Ericksen, whose head was just beginning to clear of the suppressor’s artificial static, she begged,

“Sven, Aniki, stop them, PLEASE!”

But Sven had other matters on his mind. Even through the suppressor, he’d sensed the presence of someone important, someone he HAD to find. Coming around to find Keith facing Lotor in a sword duel, and losing very badly, the pilot grunted,

“Vad i helvete ar he trying to do? Get himself gutted and field-dressed?!” Shaking away the last traces of a monster headache, Sven reached out with his thoughts and adjusted Lotor’s brain chemistry just a bit, reducing the emperor’s oxygen level to near knock-out levels. With no time for subtlety, he then impressed a thorough knowledge of sword fighting into Keith’s head, and blocked most of the major’s pain. The tide of battle turned rather suddenly, then. As Akira slashed Lotor to shrieking ribbons, forcing the Galran to apologize many times over for every slight to Lara’s honor, Sven darted from the room after Romelle.

Dorma took advantage of all the chaos to select a victim. The big male who’d just left was a psion. Too much work. The tiny one probably knew nothing of interest, and the fat one looked like a mere non-com. Servant class, at best. The slender, sandy-haired male, on the other hand, had both rank and wit, and no troublesome psionic abilities. Masking her movements with a subtly powerful ‘don’t notice me’ suggestion, Dorma glided to his side, seized hold of the human’s unsuspecting mind, and marched him out of the room. The interrogation would begin shortly.

_____________________________________________________________

Romelle ran, knowing full well that he was after her. Uaccountably terrified, she fled through the catacombs until a misjudgement brought her up short, trapped in a dark and lonely cul-de-sac. Moments later, he arrived, looking confused, but determined. He was so heart-breakingly handsome, so terribly familiar. Desperate, Romelle pulled a gun on him, pointing the muzzle square at his face and whispering,

“Get out!! Get out, or I’ll shoot!”

Ericksen’s eyes narrowed. This was the second time someone had tried to scare him off with a stupid javlar pistol. Freezing the weapon’s mechanism with an off-hand thought, Sven used TK to swat it from her grasp, and started forward again. Covering her face with her hands, she turned away, moaning,

“No! Please, please, go away! I can’t... I... Don’t look at me!”

He reached out, took hold of her thin shoulders, and pulled her around. Drawing her into his arms and against his broad chest, he said softly,

“I’m not looking, Ljusa, I promise.” Stroking her copper-gold hair with one big hand, he said, “Why ar du sa afraid of me? Vad has happened?”

What had happened? What hadn’t?! The bubble of sorrow she’d crushed for so long threatened to burst free, released by his mere presence. Romelle tried to fight it. She didn’t want to give in; didn’t want to trust another. In her experience, there was no one strong enough to protect her from life, and never had been. Yet, something about the warmth and power of his embrace, his scent, the sound of his voice, nearly convinced her otherwise. She said, very quietly,

“I.... was thirteen when Lotor captured me. It was an accident. He wanted A’lara, and mistook me for her at the spring festival on Arus. He.... was very angry when he learned the mistake, but... that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of his.... his opportunity. He laughed at me the whole time, saying over and over that I wasn’t her... that I deserved nothing more than a slave’s lot for... for deceiving him. I tried to fight, I tried so hard and long...., but I hadn’t his strength in my arms or back. Only in my heart. “ She trembled, remembering. Sven’s arms tightened around her. He kissed the top of her head, brushing her mind with his and drawing some of the poison from the memory. There was more, though. Steadying herself, Romelle whispered, “After he cast me aside, his men got a turn. I was theirs, then, until I...., until they learned that I... that there was going to be.... a... a baby.” Clutching at his flight suit with both little hands, Romelle had to fight to gasp out the next part. “I hated it, the thing he’d made inside me. I didn’t understand what was happening, and I was so terribly frightened... but then, as she began to get bigger, and she started feeling for my mind with hers, I... thought that now I had a friend. I even gave her a name... just inside my head. Oh, Sven...... they took her from me! When she was born, a old woman came and took her away, and I never saw her again! As soon as I could walk, I took a knife, broke into his chambers and tried to kill him.... he bested me again and g-gave me this.” Taking Sven’s hand, she guided it to the scar on her face, still not looking up at him. “After that, I was sent to the pit of skulls. I survived, and met a few others. Garrett, Rae. We began planning how to destroy that bastard, and his weak little whore of an empress. We’ve had a few successes.... but we couldn’t stop him from destroying my world, or killing mother and father. SHE watched. She was there with him, smiling, when they were killed.” And then, at long last, Romelle allowed herself to cry. Sven let her weep for a bit, diffusing some of the pain by taking it into himself. Eventually, he sent,

‘None of this should have happened, Ljusa. I will tell you how it ar supposed to be, instead. You found me on Galra, and we escaped together. We var married, and there var a baby coming. A little girl, beautiful, and strong, like you.’

Slowly lifting her face, Romelle said, “I’m not beautiful, Sven. Not anymore.”

He stroked the hair away from her ravaged face, then bent his head down and kissed her, moved by an emotion that had started in another place and time, before the witch’s meddling. Gradually, her trembling ceased, and she began to kiss him back. It had gotten breathlessly passionate before he broke away for a bit, to whisper,

“I promise you, Romelle, I will find a way to make things right again, and give back everything he took. Your freedom, your happiness, and your baby. I swear it.”

She smiled disbelievingly, hazel eyes full of tears. “You’re crazy, Sven Anders Ericksen, and I love you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Lady Dorma succeeded in finding a dark, empty storage room. Directing her prisoner within, she followed him inside and closed the door behind them. At her brusque mental command, he turned to face her, eyes vacant, jaw slack. Typical inferior.

Slipping past his rudimentary shields, she thrust herself into his mind and began searching for information.

‘What have you come here for?’ The Drule pilot demanded, putting just enough psionic pressure on his spinal nerves to cause the searing beginnings of pain. Surprisingly, the young human didn’t reply at once. Almost, it seemed that he was fighting her hold. ‘Answer me!’ she sent furiously, tightening her grip so that fire raced along every nerve in his body, causing his back to arch and his muscles to clench. ‘What help are you seeking in this place?!’ Incredibly, the inferior managed to resist her command yet again, even speaking, after a fashion.

“G.... go...to...hell!” he gasped “Not... telling.... you....a f*cking....thing!”

Lance had never sent a thought in his life. He’d never been telepathic, even under stress. Now though, he freed enough of himself from her iron-cold grip to think wildly,

‘Someone help me! Sven, Hunk, I can’t.... keep her.... out.... much longer!’

‘Correction, human,’ the Drule whispered, as she turned off his conscious mind and began sifting through his memories for herself. ‘You cannot keep me out at all!’

In a matter of minutes, Dorma found what she wanted; some foolishness about mechanical lions, and a giant battle robot called Voltar, or somesuch. Snorting, the Drule drew her long dagger. Time to cut the inferior’s throat and take the information she’d gouged out of him back to Hazaar. Then, just as she’d drawn his head back and touched blade to exposed throat, the door flew open with a resounding bang. A Felarra burst into the room, followed by a Drule, the tall human male, and another inferior, this one female.

Thinking quickly, Dorma flung her knife at the on-coming male, then thrust at their minds with a blindingly powerful psionic stab and sped from the room. Sven’s TK shield deflected the dagger just before it would have buried itself in his heart. He even managed to protect the women and Lance from the worst of Dorma’s stab, though it cost him.

Kalista grinned at him, all savage amusement. “You were faster before, Warrior,” she teased. “All that soft living dulling your reflexes?”

Flipping the knife around in his psionic grip, he tossed it at her, snapping, “Meet me after this ar over, and we’ll discuss who’s gotten dull, Vanina!”

“Blood-deal! See to your brother, there, and I will track his attacker!”

“Jaha. Good hunting.”

Knife and pistol in either hand, Kalista raced through the door, eager as a hound coursing deer. That seen to, Sven made certain that all was well with his princess, then turned his attention to Lance. The gunner was on the ground with his head in his hands, supported in a sitting posture by Merla’s one arm. Her expression was neutral, even bored-seeming, but Sven noticed that she didn’t let go. Kneeling at Lance’s side, he probed very gently at his injured friend’s mind. The lieutenant was in considerable pain, shamed and confused. Not waiting for permission, Sven reached out and did his best to calm and reorder Calvin’s thoughts. Fortunately, the Drule hadn’t had time to do much damage. It wasn’t always that way. Sven had been captured by three Drule officers after ditching his fighter, once, and the resulting off-hand interrogation had taken months to heal. He’d escaped after less than five hours in custody, saving himself an appointment with their ‘professional persuaders’. Not a pleasant memory, so he shoved it back under wraps and went back to healing the lieutenant.

Lance opened both eyes, his head slowly clearing. “Thanks, Bro,” he said aloud, a little unsteadily. “For everything. She was going to kill me....! Would have, if you guys hadn’t showed up when you did.”

Ericksen gave Lance a roughly affectionate punch on the shoulder. “Ja, well...., I still owe you for keeping after me about den robot business. If you had not convinced me, my squadron would have no chance at all to survive,” he replied.

Lance smiled, accepted a hand up. And then, as Romelle sent Rae an order to have her men hunt down the Drule intruder, the gunner shot a quick look over at Merla. “Don’t suppose you’re in the mood to administer a little TLC to a wounded soldier?” he asked, somehow managing a suggestive leer.

Merla snorted. “Apeling, I’m ALWAYS in the mood. The question is, are you man enough to handle it?”

___________________________________________________________

Kalista followed the intruder’s spoor through a mile and a half of cold, dusty caverns, finally closing on her prey near the surface. They were under the space port, she realized, feeling the stressed tunnels tremble and sag. Time to end this. Knowing that the other Drule was very close, she growled, in the harsh language of their world,

“I can smell you, little girl, and I can see your heat-trace. You will not leave this place alive.”

Dorma said nothing, merely edging further into the side branch she’d discovered. She hadn’t counted on this; another warrior-caste Drule, and a more experienced one, at that. Still, size and years weren’t everything, especially when the other player was as overconfident as this ‘Kalista’. Unclipping a lazon charge from her belt, Dorma silently wedged the little bomb into a crack in the crumbling stone wall, and switched it on with a brief thought. Next, making just enough noise to attract her pursuer, Dorma slid down the passage, and out the other side. No time for stealth. Breaking into a run, Dorma raced for safety. She reached the smoggy outer world just as the lazon charge detonated, collapsing half a city block and filling the cold, stinging air with dust and fuel. Sending a quick psionic stab back the way she’d come, Dorma whispered spitefully,

“Dig yourself out if you can, old woman, and pray we don’t meet again!”

______________________________________________________________

Kalista was fortunate. At the last minute, a sort of sixth sense had warned her of the coming collapse. With literally split seconds to spare, she’d lunged backward and then run far enough away to avoid being crushed. The others found her cursing and kicking at a wall of impenetrable broken rock. On spotting Merla, the Drule knelt, bowing her head miserably.

“I have failed,” she whispered huskily, for her kind did not admit defeat easily, and when they did, they expected death. Merla would have shrugged the matter off, leaving her XO depressed and suicidal, but Sven had a better notion of how to deal with Kalista.

“Get up and swear vengeance, then,” he told her. “Or are du too gutless to reclaim your honor?”

Kalista surged to her feet, ruby eyes fierce, “By the blood and honor of my house,” raged the Drule, “I will bring her before you if I must follow her to the ends of the galaxy!”

“How ‘bout another universe entirely?” Keith cut in, coming forward with Lara, Hunk and Pidge. He was bandaged and bruised, but otherwise well. Everyone quieted to hear him out, even Lance. “We’re kind of in a spot, here,” the major explained. “Our memories aren’t all that reliable, anymore. Some of the stuff I think happened may be just imagination, but....,” and here he paused to glance at A’lara, who nodded encouragingly. “If I’ve got it right, we set off on a mission, Sven, Lance, Hank and myself, picked up Pidge, here, and got lost trying to warp back for home. We ended up on Galra, by way of a slave ship...,” Merla perked up, but Keith shook his head. “Not yours, that time. Some kind of Galran freighter. Anyway, we hooked up with the princess, who was a prisoner here, and made a break for it. Got her back to Arus, where we found this big battle robot, Voltron. After that, we did a lot of fighting, against Lotor, mostly, and his witch Haggar. Sent them packing, eventually.” Running a hand through his hair, Akira puffed out a big sigh. “Okay, here’s where it gets freaky. Something happened to our history. Somebody pulled the rug out of under our universe, and switched the mission so that I was never even on it, and we never got lost. Pidge ended up in the psych ward, the rest of us went back to our units, and then the Drules attacked (no offense, Ms. Tamath, just telling it like it is)...”

Kalista shot him an irritated look, saying, “I take no offense at the reference to my people, Terran. Doubtless they tore through your forces like a knife through cloth. Stop calling me ‘miss’, though, or I will hand you your intestines.”

“Uh...., right. Sorry.... Kalista. Point is, I think we’ve been manipulated, the aim being to get rid of Voltron, and us, without actually having to defeat us in battle.”

Said Lance, “You think our intruder’s in on it?

Recalling something, suddenly, Sven cut in before Keith could reply. “Nej,” he responded. “I think.... just after we warped here, and before den wretched psionic blast, I felt a Hunter nearby. Thought it var nothing but exhaustion at the time, but now I think vi var followed through the warp. She ar one of Hazaar’s pilots, bet on it.”

Keith nodded thoughtfully, rubbing at the side of his jaw. “Okay, so Lance’s attacker isn’t behind it, which as far as I’m concerned leaves only Haggar. She’s got the means and the motive to pull something like this, and she’s just the sort who’d yank all the strings while staying at a safe remove.”

The others nodded glumly, as various bits of wispy pseudo-memory drifted through their minds. Sven, gutted and bleeding....., Nega-Voltron and its enslaved pilots......., beastmen by the score....., and the witch herself, evil and cold. They had every reason in the world to blame Haggar for their current awful fix.

“Question is,” Akira went on, “What’re we gonna do about it? It’s time to stop reacting and start taking the offensive. Otherwise, she’s gonna finish the job.”

Sven said simply, “The robot.”

Lance backed him up, adding, “Hell, yeah! I say we go to Arus, dig up our lions, form the big guy, and tear Haggar a new.....,”

“Nej. Back to Kraelyth, first. My squadron needs assistance.”

“Not to mention Terre Haute and our units,” Keith broke in, resuming control of the unscheduled meeting. “Okay, here it is, team; we go to Arus, find the lions, warp to Kraelyth and deal with Hazaar, then return for a little heart-to-heart with the witch.” If we can find her, that is..., he didn’t say aloud. Sven heard him, though, and frowned.

‘Just a feeling, min van,’ he sent, ‘but I think she will appear in her own time. Sometimes I think that to her, this is more a game than anything else.’

“Yeah, well, I’m tired of playing by her rules!” the major snapped, forgetting that no one but him had picked up Sven’s sending. He was saved the trouble of explaining what he was talking about when Romelle released Ericksen’s hand and stepped forward.

“Keith,” she began, her throaty voice level and soft. “My people and I will provide all the assistance we can in return for a favor. My brother, Avok, is still imprisoned in Lotor’s dungeons. I was going to trade him for.....,” pointedly not looking at Lara, Romelle let the statement hang in the air for a long moment, then continued. “But it’s obvious that you have some other use for the Imperial Bi.... Majesty. I will say no more on the matter; that’s your choice. Please help me find another way to rescue Avok, though, I beg you.”

Lance solved the problem. “Why not trade him for Lotor?” The gunner suggested, looking over at Keith. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

Akira nodded. “More or less. I didn’t have the heart to kill an unconscious man, so I just tied him up and left him in the same cell we woke up in. I memorized the route.....,”

Sven placed a hand on Romelle’s shoulder, saying,

“Keith, I will go fetch him back while you make a plan to trade the djaveln for Prins Avok.”

Akira stared at Ericksen for a long, silent moment. They’d been friends and teammates since their first year at the academy, but time, and many strange events had driven them apart. Keith wasn’t certain any longer what Sven was likely to do, alone in a cell with the man he hated most in the universe. On the other hand, maybe what he needed more than anything else right now was fifteen minutes alone with the bastard.

“He’ll make it back in one piece? And alive?” Akira asked, eyes never leaving the tall pilot’s impassive face.

“Ja. He’ll make it.”

“Okay, Sven. He’s all yours. Join us in the meeting hall for the next phase.”

The others gathered together to plan a hostage exchange as Sven turned and headed back up the passage.

____________________________________________________________

Ericksen could have shouted for joy when he opened the cell door and discovered that Lotor had worked free of his bonds. Then the universe smiled again, and the enraged emperor actually attacked him.

“A willing hostage!” Lotor sneered, reaching out as if to seize Sven like one of his palace slaves. The psionic stab he fired was powerful, but Ericksen shrugged it aside with barely a thought. Lotor then lunged at the pilot, only to meet a crushing kick and punch combination that sent him hurtling into the far wall. He struck with a wet cracking sound. As the Galran collapsed to the floor, Sven strode over, grabbed his shirt front, and hauled him upright again. Slamming Lotor against the wall and holding him there, Ericksen leaned close and snarled,

“I would kill you. I would tear your damn heart out and hand it to her, but we need your sorry ass to trade for her broder. But det’s fine. Det ar alright...., there are a few other ways I can use to let you know how she feels.” And then, releasing Lotor and stepping back, Sven kicked the emperor so hard in the crotch that he all but crushed him. “Det’s from Romelle AND Lara!” Once again he hauled the gasping emperor to his feet, adding, “Time to leave, Majesty. We have a long way to go!”

______________________________________________________________

It was almost exactly fifteen minutes before Sven showed up in the round meeting chamber, dragging a semi-conscious emperor behind him like a broken toy. The fellow was still breathing, at least. Sven figured that had to count for something. Seeing Keith’s expression, Ericksen said,

“He fell. A lot.”

“You said you’d bring him back in one piece!”

Somewhat unconcernedly, the pilot looked his prisoner over. “Nothing came off!” he objected.

“What happened to his hand?!” Akira demanded, pointing.

“Oh. Well, the eight or ninth time he fell, I var diligently trying to help him up, and I accidentally stepped on him. Then he started complaining, and I had to gag him. Sorry.”

“Never mind,” Keith mumbled, “I asked for it! Go talk to Romelle, she’s about to beat the sh*t out of ‘Lara. Hunk, see what you can do to patch up our royal guest, will you?”

The big medic nodded, opened his kit, and set to work. Distasteful as it might be, it wasn’t in him to deny treatment to anyone, even Lotor. Giving the emperor a painkiller, he set his arm, and began bandaging the worst of his cuts.

“Stop twitching, Yer Highness, y’ll jus’ make it worse.” Then, under his breath to Keith, “Boss, y’ got a second?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Akira came over and squatted on his heels beside the busy medic and his glaring patient. “What’s on your mind, Hunk?”

“Not my business ta get involved, Boss, but the next time yuh wanna send someone after a pris’ner, make it me, okay? I ain’t gonna have no more o’ this. If the Lieutenant Commander’s got a problem, he needs ta talk ta someone an’ learn ta forgive, not take it out on a helpless pris’ner like some kinda wild animal. An’ that’s all I wanted ‘a tell yuh.”

Keith nodded. “I understand, Hunk. And I admire your principles. But remember that they’re just that: Your principles. I don’t think anything happened to Lotor today that he doesn’t deserve, in spades. I’ll take your request under advisement, though.”

LaChance nodded. “I caint ask for nuthin’ more, Boss. Just had ta speak m’ piece.”

Meanwhile, A’lara kept her back turned to Lotor and refused to look at him, though the emperor’s golden eyes were fixed with furious intensity on the girl’s slim, graceful form. He let Hunk wrap him up and bandage what ailed him, vowing silently that this was not the end, that Keith and Sven would hang in chains for what they’d done, and that both women would be his slaves again. Soon.

A bit later, a message was sent by Merla, scrambled and distorted, re-routed through so many pick-up stations that its origins would be nearly impossible to trace. It was short and pithy, basically directing any parties interested in the safe return of their emperor to show up at the Denubian Federal Trade Commission Building on Zlarkth with Prince Avok, alive and unharmed. They received a terse reply a few minutes later. The sender called himself Lord Vraghur, and promised to meet the rebels’ terms for Lotor’s release.

Sounded good, but the team was wary, and went to Zlarkth in the newly repaired Combot, with Merla’s corsair close behind.

________________________________________________________________

Zlarkth was neutral territory. The artificial planetoid was one giant trade complex, with towering, dome-covered buildings that housed the headquarters of every major corporation in the galaxy. Quite impressive, especially to Romelle. Lara sniffed, though, claiming that the shops and restaurants were MUCH better on Estrid, but that she could see how someone who didn’t get out much might be impressed. Roma nearly punched her, withholding her strike only because Sven wrapped a TK shield around Lara. Now that the former empress of Galra had learned that her cousin wasn’t just alive, but the leader of the rebels who’d been abusing her, she’d gotten decidedly snarky again. Sven was acting as a sort of control rod, keeping the two princesses away from each other, or trying to. Not that Lance, for one, wouldn’t have liked to see the two settle their differences in, say, a mud-wrestling match (he suggested the idea several times), but Romelle was taller and stronger, an experienced fighter, whereas A’lara had more practice with her credit cards than weapons. Therefore, no wrestling. Sven could have handled a knock-down drag-out. Hell, he’d have joined in! But this constant catty snipping was driving him insane. He could hardly concentrate on flying, and nearly missed the Plaza of Currencies entirely.

A sixty-foot battlemech touching down in the midst of all those credit- and coin-shaped fountains wasn’t something one saw every day. Business-things undulated, scurried, hopped and buzzed away as fast as their podal supports would carry them. Barely noticing, Sven brought Karring down on full impellers, silent as a turning leaf, sleek and beautiful as stooping hawk. Scylla remained above, in a high geo-synchronous orbit, her main guns trained upon the plaza and FTC building. If the Galrans tried anything dirty, they wouldn’t live long enough to draw a deep breath. As it happened, though, Vraghur was too concerned about Lotor to play the emperor’s captors false. He showed up with a small entourage directly after the mech landed, Avok in their midst. Seen through Karring’s scanners, the auburn-haired Polluxan prince was grim and pale, but whole.

Following Keith’s plan, Lance stayed in the cockpit with Lara, while Sven, Romelle and the major escorted Lotor out onto the plaza. The two groups strode tensely across an ocean of grey marble, intending to meet halfway. No one spoke. Akira had no doubt that they were in a hundred Galran cross-hairs, but he trusted to luck, Merla, and a hasty prayer to see them safely through this. Had he had his way, Romelle would have been left aboard the Combot, but she’d insisted on coming, and Sven backed her to the hilt, so......

Coming within twenty feet of Vraghur’s party, Keith stopped and shoved Lotor forward, holding his breath as the Galran warlord did the same to Avok. So far, so good. The two hostages walked past each other in total silence, trading very hard looks. Romelle bit her lip and trembled, willing her limping brother to hurry. Head high, he came to them, scornfully ignoring the hundreds of red targeting lasers that painted his head and chest. Moments later, both men were safe with their own people.

Lotor glared across the plaza at the men of the Voltron force, and his seething gaze promised a universe of torment should they ever fall into his taloned hands. Keith and Sven stared back, accepting the implied challenge and piling onto it.

“We’re not finished with you, mister,” Keith whispered, eyes hard. “Not by a long shot!” Added Sven, “And next time, we end it.”

_______________________________________________________________

Arus, when they reached it, was hardly recognizable. Instead of the war-torn and battle-scarred world he’d half expected, Keith saw graceful, lacy buildings, gravity-defying bridges, and chains of scenic lakes reflecting the calm, greenish sky. Far from being troubled by the Galrans, Arus looked positively pampered. Parks, expensive boutiques and scalloped band shells were everywhere. Akira glanced over at Lara, who gave an uneasy shrug. Her world had been saved thanks to the bargain she’d made with Lotor. A right and necessary bargain, as far as she was concerned, but not one she was particularly proud of. Especially with Romelle sitting nearby, looking all holier-than-thou. Needing to shift everyone’s attention, she said,

“The shelters you’re seeking are in the cliffs by the ancient castle. They’ve been walled shut since a group of children wandered in and got lost a few years ago, but I think I know a back way in. You’re quite certain that there are lion robots under there?” She asked, adding skeptically, “Nanny used to tell me a bed-time story about the Ancient Guardians, but no one truly believes that sort of thing, anymore.”

Keith grinned a little lop-sidedly, saying, “I’m sure they’re down there, Princess. Wouldn’t you say, Sven?”

The pilot called back, not bothering to look around, “Ja. Pretty sure.”

Ericksen remained mostly focused on his flying, despite the fact that Keith and the rest of the team kept wandering up into the cramped cockpit from the hold area. Like Lance, the others had a real problem sitting around down there staring at the bulkheads. LaChance and the boy came forward least often, but Lance, Keith and A’lara popped in every five minutes or so, and Romelle had immediately claimed the forward passenger’s seat. Her warm little hand on his leg was terribly distracting. Not because it bothered him, though.

Cloaking the fighter before attaining Arus orbit, he picked a level, uncluttered spot and brought Karring straight in. There was a great deal of air traffic in the vicinity, adding a bit of excitement to the landing. They were almost hit by oncoming air-buses three times, and came down a little roughly. Didn’t bounce much, though. Or so he thought, until Lance called out,

“Captain Kangaroo, Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s give him a big round of applause!” The sarcastic gunner might have added more, but a sudden, invisible force yanked his briefs all the way up to his arm pits, causing his next biting comment to end in a strangled squawk.

As Keith led the others out into the warm Arussian twilight, Sven turned the controls over to Romelle. He’d taught her the basics of flight on the way over, and introduced her to Karring, who took to a second pilot willingly enough. Unstrapping himself, Sven stood up and gave Romelle a long, lingering kiss. A bit of well-meaning advice followed, which the princess barely heard.

“Just fly her straight back to the corsair, Ljusa, and if you have any questions, ask the computer. She will help, if you get confused. Alright?”

Romelle nodded silently, eyes on his face. She looked and looked as though trying to burn his image in her mind forever. Nothing she’d loved had ever been permitted to stay, so this parting was extremely hard on her. Sensing this, he curled his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her against him, and nuzzled the top of her head.

“I will come back, Romelle,” he promised her.

She flung her arms around him and squeezed with all her might, not trusting herself to speak. He joined the others a few minutes later, watching as Karring lifted away into the gathering night.

Keeping low and quiet, Lara led them to lake Jishi and along a delicate foot bridge. On the opposite shore rose a cliff of dark basalt, its base pocked with many small caves. Gorgeous mansions ringed the lake, the warm light from their windows flickering and dancing across the water. Not all of the lake’s illumination was caused by the houses, though. Every few minutes a great bubble would rise from the depths and break, releasing a sharp smell, and flickering heat-lightning gleam. Suddenly driven, Sven reached out with his mind, cautiously feeling for the source of those bubbles. Something rose joyfully to meet him, an artificial mind; powerful, affectionate and familiar. Sven would have jumped straight over the railing and into the water, had the princess not seized his arm.

“Not that way, Aniki!” she chided. “The governor’s scientists say that a monster sleeps down there! It will surely consume you!” Lara shook her head, noting that Keith looked similarly stunned, his brown eyes fixed on the castle with a dreamy, far-off sort of look. “Honestly, you’d think you two have never seen lake-front property before!”

Lance, Hunk and Pidge seemed less affected, though even they followed her eagerly as she unlocked a little barred gate and led them into the caverns.

“Fine, we’re here,” she said, not troubling to hide her impatience. “Now what?”

Keith, Lance and Pidge started talking at once, each certain he knew the best way to the lions. Then Sven lifted a hand for silence, closed his eyes, and allowed Blue into his mind. A map appeared in his thoughts with a route marked out in blue, curiously backswitched and zigzagged, for there were many collapsed and untrustworthy sections of tunnel ahead.

“This way,” he whispered, hardly aware of his surroundings. They followed the tunnels for almost an hour, scrambling and sweating, coming at last to a small, circular chamber. Inside the little room lay a round platform of perma-plastic, marked with five glowing disks; blue, black, red, green and gold. Each man stepped on his disk, Lara following Keith onto the black one after he’d vanished. And then....

....a cobwebbed tomb, with a giant black beast crouching over it like a sentinel.

....an underwater cavern, where stood a majestic blue lion.

....the fiery caldera of an enormous volcano, with a proud, red lioness waiting within.

....a rockpile in the desert, where a golden lion sprang to its paws with a mighty roar.

....the hollow of a great tree, containing a slim, lightning-fast lioness, green as emeralds.

Eyes lit up, boarding tubes were extended, and the pilots joined their eager lions. Moments later, five meteors streaked into the sky, shaking the comfortable mansions, the quiet shops, and the Galran governor right out of his warm bed.

The lions roared straight out of the atmosphere and on past the orbit of distant Pollux, gathering in the hollow blackness of interstellar space.

“Check in, team,” Keith called out, spotting them on Black’s scanners, but wanting to hear it, just the same.

“Good to go, Cap!”

“Me an’ Bubba’s ready, Boss!”

“Unlikely as it seems, I find myself in a sentient green lion, awaiting instructions!”

And a swift, fierce sending from Sven/Blue.

Akira turned and grinned at Lara, an “I told you so” gleam in his dark eyes. She smiled back, noticing what a fine figure he cut in that tight red uniform. She didn’t look half bad herself, in body-skimming lavender.

“How ‘bout you, Princess?” he asked her, rather huskily. “Ready to go?”

“Wherever you lead, Keith,” she responded softly.

“Then let’s go kick Hazaar’s baby-blue ass all the way back to Dru! Follow me, team!”

And they warped away.




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