ONCE HE REALIZED both Lance and Sven and their lions were missing, Keith lost no time in assembling the rest of the Force, including Allura, Corran, Nanny, and any other castle attendants who might have seen them slip out.

     Princess Allura perched on the long couch, her legs drawn up beneath her, flanked by Pidge and Hunk. Corran stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, expression in its usually somber mold. Nanny hovered protectively behind the princess, recoiling in mild distaste every time her shifting brought her up behind Hunk or Pidge. Keith paced back and forth in front of them all, brow furrowed in consternation. Despite her anger with the man, Allura’s gentle heart ached to see him so distraught. She wished there some way of reassuring him that everything would be all right.

     “Keith,” she said hesitantly, “Keith, are you sure you’re not overreacting?”

     “Right,” Pidge reasoned. “Lance is a dedicated pilot. I mean, it’s not unlike him to just take off, but it’s never been…”
     “Frivolous?” Keith suggested, coldly. “In the past I might have suggested just that, but the pilot of Voltron’s right arm is NOT the reckless, headstrong cadet I knew at the Academy.”

     Nanny snorted contemptuously.

     “All right, so he IS still somewhat reckless and headstrong,” Keith amended hurriedly. “But what I mean is, he’s not about to abandon caution for a night of partying. And besides, Sven is gone, too.”

     Allura sighed. “I have another name to add to our list of missing persons. My cousin, Princess Romelle, is missing, too.”

     Keith whirled on her. "When did you learn this?"

     Allura lifted her chin, eyes sparkling. “What are you accusing me of, Keith? I received word from Bandor just before you called this meeting!”

     Keith flushed under her imperious glare. He hated this rift between them. At times he reasoned it was better this way, that he distance himself from her; other times, such as now, he would do anything to win his way back into her good graces. But there was no time for that! “Princess, I am sorry. I am just very worried.”

     Silence fell. Keith continued to pace, Pidge, Corran, and Hunk watched questioningly, Allura’s brows knitted, and Nanny muttered many swift and merciless maledictions against Lance under her breath.

      Suddenly Keith whirled around to face them, dark eyes sparking. “Damn!” he thundered, and everyone gasped, but he plunged on, heedless. “Lance was certain something was wrong, and I never bloody listened! Even after his intuitions have proven correct and saved us in the past!”

     Allura gasped. “But Zarkon and Lotor are dead!”

     “I would believe that, too,” Keith assured her, “but we have to take Lance into consideration. He was right about Prince Bokar, remember? And Twyla. And-who knows how many other times. Believe me, princess,” he insisted, “nothing would please me more than to be able to tell you we defeated the forces of Doom forever that time, and a week ago I might have, but now, I just don’t know anymore!”

     “Wait, wait, wait,” Hunk broke in. “Are you saying the guys from Doom kidnapped Sven, Lance, and Romelle? Keith, that makes no sense.”

     Keith took a deep breath and resumed pacing. “I know, I know. I just worry that Lance may have stumbled across something and taken off on his own. Then I would assume Sven either went with him or followed him. The Blue and Red Lions, incidentally, are gone. However, Lance also said he had a ‘bad feeling’ about Sven, too.”

     “Is it possible…” Pidge began, softly, and suddenly had all eyes upon him. He shrugged self-effacingly. “I was just thinking, is it possible someone is controlling Sven? You said he broke up with Princess Romelle. That makes no sense. But…” He shook his head. “When could that have happened? There was no time anyone could have gotten to him when we attacked Doom.” He threw his hands up in the air and smiled weakly. “Frankly, I’m stumped.”

     Hunk attempted an explanation, next. “What if Lance was wrong?” he mused. “What if there’s nothing wrong with Sven? What if…oh, god!” he thundered. “Yeah, I’m stumped, too.”

     “And we also have to take into account the disappearance of Princess Romelle,” Corran reminded them.

     “She’d have come here…” Pidge began.

     “She sent no word,” Allura interrupted.

     “…if she left Pollux of her own free will.”

     “So, what do we do now?” Hunk asked, in the silence that followed. “We’ve got to find them.”

     Keith had by now ceased pacing and was staring out the great windows, hands clenched at his sides. “We canNOT leave Arus undefended, even if we can’t form Voltron. I’ll just have to contact Galaxy Garrison and ask if any scouts have seen them.”

     Silence in the room.

     At last, Corran cleared his throat and stated what they were all thinking, and what they least wanted to say: “Without Voltron, now would be the perfect time for an attack.”

     “I know,” Keith said again. He turned and favored his remaining comrades with a level, measuring gaze. “We may be down by two, but we’re still the Voltron Force. We made a vow to aid Planet Arus and we’ll stand by it. We’ll find the others; we’ll get to the bottom of this.” But he sounded doubtful. “We’re all on double-duty, now. I want additional reconnaissance flights, guards on watch at all times, on the towers and in the Control Room and I don’t want to see any more damn recruits until we figure out what’s going on. Princess, Corran I need you to stay in contact with Pollux. They may discover something vital. And keep searching for the origins of Voltron. I just have this feeling they’re connected, somehow. To the Lions!”

     Keith strode to the door, followed by Corran, Nanny, Hunk, and Pidge. Pidge, however, hesitated at the door. He made to leave again, then squared his shoulders and turned back to her, a half-sheepish look flustering his features. Allura, watched, schooling a tender smile, as he struggled to fight down his blush and retain his customary bright and candid air.

     Allura, perceptive to others feelings as she was, had long known of Pidge’s crush on her, starting almost from their initial meeting. She found it amusing and immensely touching that he should still harbor such feelings, even after two years of being comrades in arms. Or maybe it was simply his age that caused him to flush so? Pidge, by far the youngest of the Space Explorers, having just turned fifteen, and that was an awkward age for anyone, even without having to shoulder the responsibilities he did. Still, he had grown up nicely, she reflected, thinking fondly of the short, somewhat plain-faced boy that had come to Arus two years ago, and smiling encouragingly at the young man before her. He had grown-rather quickly, to his alternating chagrin and conceit-and was already at least as tall as Lance, fast-approaching Keith’s perfect six feet. His face had thinned out, his shoulders broadened, though he was still lanky and leggy as a young colt and his unruly chestnut hair still fell over his fine brown eyes, framed by the archaic glasses he refused to doff. Allura was enjoying watching him grow from a self-sure, cheeky boy into a somewhat more circumspect, thoughtful young man, thought of him more often than not as the little brother she’d never had.

     He cleared his throat abruptly, jolting her from her reverie. She indicated the vacant seat beside her on the sofa, but he shrugged, ducking his head slightly.

     “Pidge, what is it?” she asked, gently.

     He frowned helplessly, suddenly looking very young. “I…I saw your face when Keith said the Force is down by two. He wasn’t talking about the Lions.”

     She ducked her head, her long fair lashes shadowing her cheeks, concealing her hurt. “I know,” she murmured.

     “Allura, I just wanted to say…I think he’s wrong,” he said finally, awkwardly. “To treat you like this. Hunk and Lance think so, too. You were…good. You were very good, and brave, and…”

     She was forcing herself to smile up at him, though her heart ached in her chest. “Thank you, Pidge. I know. I hate to admit it, but Keith and Corran had a point. I can’t be on the Force AND Queen. It’s not as easy as just being handed a crown. There is so much work to be done…” She trailed off, tired of the story she had to tell herself constantly, truthful as it was.

     Pidge continued to hover. As much as she liked him and as comforting as his words had been, she wanted to be alone. She smiled again, inclining her head toward the window. “I don’t think Keith will take it well if you don’t show up soon, either.”

     Pidge grinned maliciously. “It would serve him right.” But he understood. “Well…I’ll see you later, Allura.”

     “Good bye Pidge. And thank you.”

     Allura watched him leave, struggling to conceal her hurt. Three weeks ago, she would have been on her feet the instant that familiar call to arms had passed Keith’s lips, racing with the others toward the Robot Lions of Voltron. Now she forced herself to remain in her seat and listen as the footsteps of her former companions in arms receded further down the corridor. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Her eyes cast about the now-empty room, and she hugged her arms tightly about her. It had been a long time since she had felt so powerless, not since the time between her father’s death at the Battle of Zohar and the arrival of the Space Explorers at the door of the ruined Castle of Lions. During those years she had been kept hidden away from the sun and her people, deep in the hidden rooms and passages of the Castle, and all there had been to do was wait and dream. All she had had for comfort was the presence of Corran, her father’s most trusted advisor, but he was old and could not possibly understand her all-consuming craving to do what she felt was her duty and legacy, to defend her people. And there had been her parent’s prized library. Young Allura had spent her hours consumed in the vast volumes of crumbling, dusty tomes, had been incensed by the chronicles of kings and queens long past, of the Astral Knights who had long-ago defended Arus against the ravenous Drul Empire, of Voltron, the mighty robot warrior which had once defended the Galaxy, but now lay dormant, broken into five immobile robot lions through the art and deceit of the witch Haggar. Seven years of living in a ruined castle with a dour pessimist such as Corran might have dampened any young girl’s spirits, but not hers. Allura’s hopes had been kept alive by dreams of one day restoring the fearless, valiant Astral Knights (who of course the young Allura had every intention of leading) and bringing back to life Voltron.

     And then, only days after her sixteenth birthday, her waiting had paid off. The five Space Explorers, Keith Hawkins, Sven Bjørnsen, Lance Turniev, Hunk Johnson, and Pidge Weintraub fell out of the sky and onto her doorstep, after a harrowing escape from Zarkon’s dungeon. They discovered the secret of Voltron, learned to fly the robot Lions, and rode out into battle against the forces that threatened Arus. They had not restored her faith; she had never lost it. And when Sven was severely injured in a fight with Haggar’s Robeast, sent to Planet Ebb to heal and was subsequently believed dead when that planet was sacked by Zarkon, she had been proud to live her dreams and pilot the Blue Lion, defending her people in battle as she could not yet do as queen.

     What had happened? It mattered little to her that the Blue Lion was missing, and therefore NOBODY could pilot it. What truly rankled was how summarily her friends had dismissed her. No, not friends, not all of them, for certainly Lance, and even Pidge and Hunk, had understood-Keith! Why had he treated her so? When they had first met, she had been quite taken with the Voltron Force leader, with his tall, strong body, his youthful good looks, his huge, beautiful brown eyes, and especially with his charisma, his sense of duty, his ability to lead and command attention. The Astro Knight stepped out of the pages of her planet’s history. In those early days she had regarded him with the naïve adoration of a girl who had never before met a handsome man of her own age. But his mind had ever been on his duty, and those days had passed. Well, if he was not to be her great love, still the relationship that blossomed between them had been a rewarding one. They had achieved a kind of rapport, she felt, especially when he began training her to fly his own Black Lion, when they seemed almost to know each other’s thoughts, to trust instinctively. The Princess and her Champion.

     Where had he gone?

     Could it be that now Zarkon and Lotor’s legions had been dispersed his thoughts were turning once more to his career with Galaxy Garrison, the career he had abandoned to serve Arus?

     Could it be…? Ah, but what good was all this speculation? Clearly their victory over Doom those weeks ago had been an ephemeral one, yet again. A sudden chill shook her body at the thought that her people still had reason to fear for their safety. Almost unconsciously, she slid from the couch and moved to the great window. Outside the golden late afternoon sun was sliding across the distant, blue-green hills, turning the lake that surrounded the Castle of Lions a blinding black gold. Her gaze moved out over the lake to the ruined Arusian homesteads: the weed-choked, crumbled houses, the long-abandoned, untilled fields. Her heart sickened at the sight. How much she had hoped that it was the end, that her people could finally return to their homes! They had been so sure that day after their return from Planet Doom, lying in the tall grass by the lake, watching as the blue sky revolved overhead, unmarred by enemy ships.

     She did not realize how hard she was clenching her fist until her fingernails actually drew blood. With a gasp she forced her eyes away from the burned out villages and out across the landscape to the deep green of the forest. As she watched, the Green Lion, tiny and black against the setting sun, burst from the trees and leaped skyward. Out in the desert beyond the hills, Hunk’s Yellow Lion would also be launching, while he Black Lion, perched on a tower over the Great Gate, on the other side of the Castle, would already be air-born and awaiting its comrades.

     Well, left behind or not, she could no longer be that little girl who had hidden in terror when Zarkon’s fleet bombed her castle, nor the young woman whose hopes had ridden high on tales from the past. If she could no longer fly, still she could do something to help. The Voltron Force would not find their missing friends on Arus, and if Zarkon or Lotor or any of their generals had them in their power, no scouts would find them, either. But, perhaps…

     She pivoted on her heel and strode decisively toward the door, calling for her cloak.

     Under a soapy green sky, through knee-deep snow and winds that howled savagely and sought to tear the flimsy cloaks from their backs, Romelle and Lance plodded on through the foothills of the black mountains. The sun had risen a few hours ago, causing the snowy plains behind them to shimmer like a lime peel, but if it had brought any change in the temperature, Romelle was too numb to feel it. The wind lashed at her legs and ears, and it was through sheer force of will that she managed to move forward. Did people actually live on this world? she wondered. If someone had informed her that she and Lance were the only two creatures alive on this planet, she would well have believed them, for the entire world seemed steeped in a dead silence. The only sounds that came to her ringing ears besides the moaning of the wind through the craggy mountains was the crunching of her own boots in the snow, and Lance’s labored breathing at her side. Occasionally she cast side-long glances at her companion, but he was alternately lost in thought or glancing back over his shoulder, a forlorn expression on his face. What was the relationship between a rider and his Lion? Did Lance merely fret over the damage done to a priceless piece of machinery, or had he suffered an emotional blow at their separation such as she did not understand? Sven never spoke to her of his brief days as pilot of the Blue Lion, and she had eventually abandoned pressing the issue. How strange! Her own thoughts echoed tinnilly in her head. She glanced again at Lance. He was rubbing his gloved hands together rapidly, and his mouth was moving, though his voice was too low to be heard over the wind.

     “Lance…what are you doing?” she called. Her voice rasped in her throat. She tried again.

     “Singing, of course, what d’you think?” he grunted.

     He shrugged and sighed. “To pass the time. And to take my mind off the cold.”

     “I couldn’t hear what you were singing.”

     “S’probably better that way.”

     There was silence for a few moments, and then Lance sighed gustily as only the long-suffering can, and began his song again, raising his voice for her. He couldn’t sing, and the wind was so loud she lost a good fourth of it, but it appeared to be about the well-meaning, painfully inept young Space Explorer Willy Wildstar, who bumbled his way through Space Heroics 101 at the Academy and whose subsequent adventures were bawdy enough to set Romelle’s cheeks aflame.

     “Well!” she said when he had finished. “I feel thawed!”

     “Always a pleasure to serve my lady Princess,” Lance said gallantly, and actually winked at her. “Your man taught me that one.”

     Romelle stopped dead and her sharp intake of breath caused so much cold air to come rushing into her lungs that she spluttered and couldn’t speak for a long moment. When she finally caught her breath and looked up, Lance was standing at her elbow, grinning down at her. “You’re kidding,” she gasped out and his grin slid even wider.

     “Didn’t know our Sven had a dark and ridiculous side?”

     “Oh, I’m beginning to realize that!” she snapped, and Lance’s face fell, for her words brought them both back to the task at hand.

     “We’ll find him, Princess,” Lance said, as comfortingly as he could, clasping her hand.

     “And then we kill him?”

     Lance bit his lip. “Yes, and then we kill him. AFTER we find out why he led us to this stinking icebox.”

     Romelle lowered her eyes. “If it’s really him and not a robot. I fear he is. And then, if he is a robot, ah, Lance, where is he really?”

     Lance had no answer for her. All he could do was attempt to find a smile for her and at that he could not come up with a convincing one. “Well, we’ll find out, and soon, I hope. Damn, it’s cold! We should get moving,” he added, scanning the overhanging crags where he was certain he saw shadows teeming and moving out of the corner of his eye. “Let’s go,” he said nervously, and they continued, in silence, deeper into the mountains.

     The mountain air was sharp as knives against Romelle’s face, and her hands were raw and cracking with the cold. Frantically she rubbed them together. She wished Lance would speak to her again, for the silence was stifling, but she knew they both needed their strength to continue. She willed her mind away from the bitter cold, thought instead of Sven. Her mind was torn. On one hand she was furious with him for bringing her to this, for hurting her so, for making a fool of her. On the other…once she started on that thread all she could see was him turning just before he plunged back into Castle Doom, and that look he had given her. It seemed she was seeking two men here. But which would she find?

     Lance’s sudden exclamation brought her back to reality. They had apparently gone as far into the mountains as they could walk. Beyond where they stood, the crags rose up sharply and appeared in some areas as sheer as polished obsidian.

     “Bloody hell,” Lance muttered. He and Romelle began feeling about the cliff face for handholds.

     “The flash of light was in this direction, though,” Romelle maintained staunchly. “We’ve got to get there. Is there no way around?”

     “My feeling is, it’s uniform throughout, except of course for a secret, special way that only the denizens of this planet (if there are any) know. Forget Planet Doom. If I were going to build an impregnable fortress, I’d pick right here.”

     “Lance, shut up!” She turned away from the cliff face, arms across her chest, intent in thought. She was pacing back toward the path, when a low sound, somewhere between the bleating of a goat and the growl of a bear, but much deeper and infinitely more ominous came to her ears. She whirled around. On a rocky shelf above them, a huge, shaggy creature seemed to melt out of the shadows. It was nearly twice as tall as a man, and covered in snaggly white fur from head to foot, matted with blood so dark it was almost black. Two curved, spiraling black horns sprang from its low forehead. It had empty, unseeing black eyes like polished stones. With a cry, Lance leaped to Romelle’s side and shoved her roughly back against the cliff face, handgun drawn. As Romelle whirled, breathless, and dug frantically for her own weapon, the mangy animal bellowed and sprang.

     As far as Lance knew, this was an as-yet-unexplored world, and no documentation of the native flora and fauna had been taken. Therefore, when the gigantic snow monster appeared on this ledge above them, Lance was aware somewhere in the back of his mind that there was always a chance this creature was the local equivalent of, say, Space Mice. But he seriously doubted it. When the animal reared itself to spring, Lance cried out in surprise and warning, leaped out across the snow and hurled Romelle back behind him. Lance’s first shots rang out before the creature even landed, and missed wildly, striking and shattering part of the shelf the creature had been standing on.

     For one glass moment Lance stood, facing the thing, staring into those sightless, hungry, coal eyes. The next instant the thing hammered into him, hurling him viciously up into the air-still firing his handgun in a wild arc-to smash heavily into the snow a good four yards away. With a cry of rage Romelle sprang in front of him, firing rapidly, her other hand hovering tensely over the knife at her belt. The creature’s bellow echoed through the ridge. Lance raised his head, painfully. He couldn’t feel one arm, and blood was dripping down into his eyes. “Romelle-” he croaked in warning, for the creature was lowering itself to spring again-but she darted away, back against the wall of the cliff. The creature turned. Lance scrambled to his knees, groping in the snow for his fallen handgun. His hand came in contact with something hard and cold and he drew it up, realizing to his dismay that it was only a rock. Still, he hurled it with all his strength at the creature, shouting, “HEY!” The rock bounced harmlessly off the creature’s great shoulder, and the creature never even acknowledged him, intent only on Romelle, who was running rapidly out of space to run, and shots to fire.

     Frantically, Lance cast about for some means of defense. Through dimming eyes he seemed to see, over the creature’s shoulder, a great shadow sweeping down over the ledge. Then, gasping, chest heaving, Romelle was at his side again. She had dropped her gun somewhere and her right hand clenched around the knife.

     Lance was about to tell her to run for the plain, when one thundering blast rang out behind the creature from the ledge and the thing fell heavily at their feet. Lance closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the creature was still dead at his feet and Romelle was gripping him tightly by the arm, gasping, between large gulps of air, “Are you all right? Are you all right?”

     He nodded absently and together they stepped gingerly around the bloody, burned corpse of their foe. Up on the ledge two figures were standing, black against the sun. A rope was lowered over the ledge and one of the figures, by far the smaller of the two, called out, “Climb up! Where there’s one yeti there’s bound to be more. Hurry!”

     Wordlessly, Lance wrapped the rope around his wrists, gave it a good tug, and let himself be lifted up the cliff face. As he came to the lip of the ledge and scrambled to pull himself up onto it, he looked up and his entire line of view was momentarily filled with two large, very dark eyes, set in a delicate white face, and lips that broke into a dazzling smile. A small hand reached out to clasp his and haul him to his feet. A voice floated down to him through the icy air saying, “Hi. I’m Ekatia.”

     Lance fell against her clumsily, and caught a real glimpse of the taller figure, who moved swiftly to the ledge to assist Romelle’s ascent.

     “Sven…” Lance gasped out.

     Romelle’s hand appeared over the cliff ledge and Sven caught it, hauled her up easily. She stumbled against him, then put a hand on his arm to steady herself, for a split instant unaware of who held her. Then she whirled around and recognition thumped into her face.

     “YOU!” she hissed with sudden venom and before anyone could intervene dealt him such a smashing blow across the face that he fell backward into the snow.


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