Voltron: V4
                            LEGEND

                        part 1: Prelude
                            by Mea


     The ship shook violently as Mira wrestled for control.  Around her, laser fire lit up
the sky like a lightning storm.  They were losing, thanks to Randal, with no hope of
escape, no hope of victory -
     Sparks flew from the console as another blast rammed into her fighter.
     "I will NOT give up!" she growled through clenched teeth.  She may be the last
one, but she refused to stop fighting.
     Another jolt, and the ship flew apart around her, breaking apart into nothingness. 
The vastness of space spread out before her, threatening to engulf her, body and soul. 
The ships seemed so far now.  All of them, the Doom forces, Planetary Defense... so far
away. 
     She was falling, being sucked into the endless expanse of darkness.  She wanted
to scream.
     Her lungs sucked in air as her eyes flew open.  For a moment, she didn't know
where she was.  Then, as she felt the hardness of the floor in her tiny cell, she
remembered.
     She was a slave.  One of many who were being transported to one of the Doom
work camps.  Again.
     Mira slowly sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.  Her long matted brown
hair fell over her shoulders as she drew herself tighter to herself, shivering from both the
cold that her ragged clothes offered little protection from, and the memory of the images
she'd just seen.
     She'd had another dream like the ones she'd had on and off since her capture
over a year ago.  Nocturnal reminders of how she arrived in the situation she was in. 
She still shook from this latest dream, not for herself, but from the memory of the squad
she lost.  Her squad, her responsibility, and she'd failed.  They had all failed.  What few
who had survived, like her, had been quickly separated and sent off to any number of
labor camps.  For all she knew, she was the last one left.  
     Randal, this was his doing.  For that, she could never forgive him.  What could
have possessed him?  She wondered what they'd promised him for the defense plans
and codes he'd given them, and felt hatred boil deep in her chest.  Hope it was worth an
entire world, Randal, she thought, I hope they betrayed you like they did us and you're
rotting in a cell like this one too.
     Her cell, it was small, one of many designed for keeping prisoners more or less
isolated for long trips.  At one time, she'd thought her dorm at the academy was small,
but it was vast compared to this. You could cross the cell in three paces, which made
stretching out impossible, and Mira's muscles ached from the ball she had folded herself
into to sleep.  The walls, ceiling, and floor were thick dark metal, and complete life
support was a luxury for those who piloted the craft, not the cargo.  A bare minimum
was used, just enough to keep them breathing and from freezing to death, which meant
it was always cold in the slaves' quarters.  There were no windows except for the barred
one in the door where a guard could look in to check on the prisoners, like the guard
outside...
     Mira blinked.  Since being captured, she'd been moved around to several work
camps.  In that time she'd noticed that, on transports like this, there was one, maybe two
guards per level during the slaves' sleep period.  One guard, standing right in front of
her cell with his back to her...  It probably didn't even know she was awake.
     She thought about this.
     Wasn't the alarm three cells away?
     She didn't even know if he had a key with him.
     There was always a chance.
     But what kind of chance did she have.
     Never give up, she'd said once.  Never.  Death was better than staying here.
     The worn shoes on her feet made no noise as she approached the door.  She
peered around him, but there were no other guards in sight, just the doors of similar
cells.  She didn't stop to think about it; she reached through the cell bars, wrapped her
arms around the guard's head, and yanked it backwards with all her strength.  There
was a dull "CLANG" as its head hit the metal bars hard.  It tried unsuccessfully to reach
for its weapon before its head hit the bars once more, knocking crucial circuitry loose,
and it slumped in her grip.
     Part of her couldn't believe her stunt had worked.  If luck was with her, she'd
better not waste it.  The guard was heavy, but she managed to shift her grip to one arm
as she used the other arm to search him for a key.  Something jingled at its waist,  just
out of reach as she shifted the body.  Gritting her teeth, she stretched her arm down
toward the sound.  Her fingers felt a ring of cold metal attached to the side of its belt;
this might be it.
     It was it. She now had a large metal keyring holding a collection or archaic
looking keys hanging from her grasp.  She let the guard fall and began feeling around
for the lock.
     The fourth key she tried worked, clicking triumphantly into the latch.  The door to
her cell opened and...
     Now what?  She realized that she was so sure this WOULDN'T work, she hadn't
even thought of what to do if it did.
     "Psst!"
     Mira nearly jumped at the sound.  Someone from one of the other cells was trying
to get her attention.
     "Over here," the voice whispered.  A hand poked through the bars nearby.  "Can
you get us out?"
     Idiot, she chided herself, what are you doing standing here, go and help them.
     "Be right there," she whispered back, pausing only to pick up the fallen guard's
gun.  It was strange, for the first time in a long time, something inside her stirred; she
didn't feel dead anymore.  
     "I don't know which key works," she said, "so this may take a bit."  The prisoner
looked to be a few years older than herself, and obviously hadn't been here long.
     "That was great!" he whispered back, "How did you know that would work?"
     "I didn't." That key didn't work.
     "Really?  Well, uh... what's your plan?"
     "I don't have one." Not that key either.
     "But... but..."
     "I couldn't sleep." Wrong one again.  She was starting to become aware of the
many eyes watching her from the other cells.  Got to work faster.
     "You couldn't... LOOK OUT!!"
     Mira turned in time to see a second guard reaching for the alarm button on the
wall.  She fired, hitting it square in the chest, but it was too late.  A loud klaxon began to
sound though the ship.
     The other prisoner grabbed her shoulder.  "Go!  Get out of here!"
     "But I haven't -"
     "Don't worry about us.  Just go!"
     Mira debated for a moment, then passed the keys to him.  "Here, see what you
can do with these."
     "I will.  Go!"
     She started running.  Around her, the voices of the other slaves rose in calls of
encouragement, pleas for rescue, jeers, shouts... it all began to blur together.  She
looked back only once, in time to see three more guards arrive, only to be delayed by
the other slaves grabbing at them from within the cells.  After that, she ran blindly as
sounds of fighting broke out behind her.
     Guards had begun to converge on the holding cells.  As she turned a corner, she
almost ran straight into two more.  Instead of slowing, she charged ahead, firing as she
went.  Lasers seared past her head as she threw herself out of the way, then quickly
rolled back to her feet and fired again.  This time the shots connected and her two
attackers fell.  Now she was running purely on instinct and adrenalin, and still had no
idea where she was going.
     The first lift she found, she ducked inside and mashed a likely-looking button
without reading it, and only then paused to catch her breath.  
     What to do next?  She didn't know the layout of the ship, and probably wouldn't
have a chance to learn it, so her best option was to keep moving until she found
something, make that anything useful and then think about it.
     Almost before she was ready, the lift stopped and opened its doors onto a new
deck of the ship.  No one was around, but Mira could hear footsteps marching in her
direction, so she did the only thing she could do; go in the other direction.  However, it
wasn't long before the sounds of robot troops told her that she was about to be
surrounded.  There was a door nearby, and trying it, she found it unlocked and ducked
through.
     She was in a repair bay for robot troops.  It was empty at present (except for her
and a vast number of spare parts), and Mira hoped it would stay that way for a few more
minutes.  Quickly, she pressed herself to the wall near the door, blaster at the ready,
and listened.  The footsteps came closer; it sounded like both groups. She heard one of
them say something she couldn't make out, another one reply, the first one again, a few
of them laugh, and finally the sound of their fading footsteps.
     "Whew!" she breathed, slumping against the wall. It was a momentary victory. 
She knew that sooner or later, one of them was going to come in here and find her.  If
there was only something in here she could use...
     Her eyes fell on a helmet left on a workbench.
     "Hmmm..."
 +    +   +    +   +   +   +
     It didn't fit, but the uniform only came in one size, so Mira was going to have to
make the most of it.  She tried to subtly push a stray lock of hair back under the helmet
as she made her way down the metal corridor of the slave ship.  The alarm was still
clanging on, and occasionally, one of the robots would sweep past her.  She kept her
head bent and tried to walk like someone who knew exactly where they were going and
what to do when they got there, which in reality, she didn't on both counts.  And she was
no closer to escaping the ship than she was a half hour ago.  
     One of the soldiers trotted down the hall toward her.
     "Any idea how long they're going to make us search?" he asked, coming closer.
     Mira pretended not to pay him much attention, shrugged, and grunted something
noncommittal.
     The soldier kept going past her, apparently not noticing anything out of place and
kept going to his destination.
     Mira could feel herself shaking.  Whether it was the fact that this was the second
close call she'd had in the last fifteen minutes, or the fact that she had hardly had
anything to eat the past few days, she wasn't sure.  She took a deep, ragged breath,
hoping to calm her jangling muscles.
     "There's got to be a way out of here," she muttered under her breath, "Has to be."
     Another corner, another hall... this was taking too long.  Someone was going to
come along sooner or later and notice she wasn't supposed to be there, and then things
were going to get really bad.  There was no way she'd be able to take on a whole ship
by herself if that happened. 
     About then she noticed it was very quiet.  The alarm had stopped.  She couldn't
decide if this was good or bad.  It did mean the riot below had ended.  She could guess
who won, and shook her head in sorrow.
     Ahead, there were voices coming from an open door that looked like it lead to
somewhere official.  Caution told her to keep moving, but curiosity won over and she
carefully stole up beside the doorway and listened.
     "...message is that?"
     "General Norak wants our fighters to join the Fleet in the Ariel Cluster after we've
delivered our cargo."
     "Oh?"
     "They said the records indicate it might be on Planet Telos."
     "Very good.  Send a reply that we understand and -"
     "What are you doing away from your post?" demanded a voice behind her.
     Mira made a mistake: she turned.
     And found herself nose to nose with the enemy.
     "INTRUDER! HALT!"
     Halting was the last thing on her mind.  
     The guard had to draw his gun, hers was already out, which gave her the
advantage. The shot rammed point blank into his chest, knocking him against the
opposite wall moments before blaster fire lanced out around her.  Mira leaped out of the
way and ran with renewed strength.  The shots were closer this time, she felt one sear
the wall next to her as she raced through the ship.  Ahead loomed a large portal 
leading... she didn't know where, but it may have cover.  If their aim started improving,
she'd need it.
     Unfortunately, the door was closing.
     With an extra burst of speed, Mira slipped between the two metal slabs as the
gap behind her became too narrow for anyone else to cross.  She looked around.
     Dumb luck was once again being kind to her; she was in one of the launch bays. 
Before her stretched rows and rows of Doom Fighters, lined up in peerless precision,
each one apparently ready to be sent out at a moment's notice.  Ships that would swarm
down like black hornets of conquest to ravage their target by sheer numbers.  She
remembered them, how ironic that they seemed to be her best way off this ship.
     Most of the deck crews stopped what they were doing as she came in, not
realizing what was going on.  When the hammering on the blast doors started behind
her, they began to realize something was amiss.  One of them stepped forward.
     "You're not authorized to be here," it said, stating the obvious.  Apparently, labor
drones weren't noted for quick thinking.
     Or reacting.  She easily pushed past several of them and headed toward the
waiting unmanned fighters, vaulted into the nearest open cockpit and closed the canopy.
Outside, she could hear the sound of grinding metal as the blast doors were finally
forced open.  
     Before her was spread a myriad of unfamiliar controls, but she was not going to
let that stop her.  If there was one thing she'd learned at the Academy: if it had wings,
she could fly it.  Usually.  Hopefully.
     "Okay, which one's the power-up sequence..? Look for something familiar...
Think..."
      A laser flashed against the canopy, followed by several more.
     "Think... think... THINK!  It's... gotta... be... THIS one!"
     She pressed a series of buttons and heard the whine of engines activating.
     "YES! Now let's see what this thing can do."
     Deck crew and soldiers scattered as the fighter began to rise.  A few of the
braver ones continued to fire ineffectually at the craft as it sluggishly turned toward the
launch way and open cosmos. The engines on the small craft glowed white hot before it
catapulted out of the slave ship and into space, to freedom.
     Freedom.  That's what this was, exhilarating, intoxicating freedom, despite flying
this piece of Doom-made garbage.  She hadn't flown in so long, she'd almost forgotten
the rush.  Now... now she felt complete again.  It had only been a year, but it felt like
centuries since she'd last guided a ship though the space ways.  She felt good, more
than good, even if that ship was a cramped short-range fighter.  Her insides didn't feel
the least bit dead anymore.  She was FLYING!
     The proximity alarm jolted her out of her thoughts, warning her of the squadron of 
fighters like her own that were closing in.
     "Guess they want their ship back," she muttered as she banked her ship in a tight
turn, "Where's the weapon system on this flying coffin?"
     About seven fighters closed in as her fighter dodged and weaved around their
weapons' fire.  It quickly became obvious they didn't want the ship back, they just didn't
want anyone else to have it.
     She found the weapons, but . . . 
     "You've GOTTA be KIDDING me! HALF POWER?!"
     She jerked the stick back and went into a steep climb, narrowly missing the red
beams lancing from the pursuing ships. Seven ships, half power on lasers... this flight
just kept getting better and better.
     "Well, if they think I'm going to curl up and surrender..."
     Gritting her teeth, she slammed the engines to full reverse.  The ship lurched as it
came almost to a dead stop, almost throwing her forward out of the pilot's seat. The
other fighters raged past her, giving her a clean shot of their back sides. She triggered
her own laser cannons and managed to catch one of them squarely in the middle and it
blew apart with a satisfying explosion. The remaining six ships turned wide and
regrouped in formation, their lasers cutting through space like spears of light.  Mira
gunned the engines forced the ship into another hard turn (she could feel the stabilizers
groan with the strain) and managed to evade this volley as well.  She tried to increase
speed as she continued her evasive maneuvers in hopes of putting some distance
between her and the slave ship on the off chance that they'd return to their dock rather
than risk being lost in a short range fighter.
     No such luck.  The other fighters continued their dogged pursuit as the slave ship
became just a blip on the edge of her scanners.  Two of the fighters broke formation and
tried to flank and surround her.  Red beams flashed past the cockpit as she tried to
weave out of their trap.  Suddenly, her fighter shook as one of the shots grazed the left
wing.  Alarms flashed and wailed from the console as she fought control back.  This was
almost as bad as Balto.  
     Two more ships peeled away from the main group and started to close in on the
other side.
     "Not bad for a bunch of robots," Mira remarked to herself.  Another alarm started
to flash.  Something was coming up on her sensors, spreading out in front of her for
miles. That something looked like an asteroid belt, a thing most sane pilots avoided if at
all possible.
     Mira changed course and shot straight toward it.
     "Let's see how those logic chips deal with this," she muttered.  Around her, huge
boulders tumbled in their ceaseless dance, many the size of the slave ship or bigger.
     The enemy fighters followed her in.  Any semblance of formation was lost as
each ship maneuvered through the floating rocks after its prey.  One ship, misjudging
the trajectory of one spinning boulder, clipped its top wing and was knocked off course
just enough for the next large rock to end its role in the chase.  The other five continued
on with electronic precision as if the other ship was never there.
     It wasn't the huge rocks that worried Mira, her fighter slipping between them with
almost practiced ease. No, it was the smaller ones that didn't trigger any of her sensors
that worried her.  Those fragments moved fast enough to punch a hole in titanium. She
quickly wiped some sweat from her face, using all her concentration to dodge through
this obstacle course.  Maybe it was the borrowed uniform, but it was getting stuffy in the
cockpit.  She hazarded a glance to see if life support was working.
     There was none.
     Of course not, she reminded herself, robot pilots don't need things like life
support, and real soldiers got better ships than this piece of scrap. 
     "Things just keep getting better and better," she grumbled as a laser exploded
into a nearby asteroid. Two more ships were right behind her, way too close.  She
ducked around a large chunk of space rubble, looped high, and immediately banked
hard left to barely avoid another large rock.  She could feel the lower wing scrape the
surface, but not enough to do damage, and allowed herself a smile as the other two
ships rammed into its rocky face.
     It was getting even harder to breathe; she hoped she'd be out soon, intact. 
Another close call like that, and this fighter would be joining the rocks as floating debris. 
Not that she had any idea what to do once she cleared the asteroids.  She could see the
edge of the field on her sensors, but it was still very far, and the remaining three fighters
were once again following close behind.
     "What I wouldn't give for rear cannons right now."
     Mira's face darkened with concentration, steering her ship at a gap between two
huge asteroids.  Beads of sweat rolled down her face and were ignored.  Her timing had
to be perfect; the gap was closing.  It was going to be tight.
     Her fighter spiraled between through the small gap as it narrowed uncomfortably
tight.  Behind her, two explosions marked the permanent deactivation of yet another two
pilots.
     Unfortunately, the third ship managed to clear the crushing rocks.
     "You just won't give up, will you?"she growled.  Her head was starting to buzz
slightly, probably due to the thin air in the fighter.  She could almost see the edge of the
asteroids, but if she didn't lose that thing behind her soon, it wouldn't matter
     One of her friends at the academy once said "Desperate times call for insane
plans."  This was one of those times.
     With barely a thought, she pulled the ship in a 180-degree turn and fired back at
the attacker.  He dodged the laser beams, which she expected; she wasn't aiming at
him, but at the floating rocks nearby.
     What happened next would make the champion 4D pool player envious: stone
crashed into stone into stone, causing a chain reaction of ricocheting rock and
fragmenting rubble that caught the last pilot off guard, catching his engines from behind
and piercing the fuel cells.  
     The last enemy fighter blew apart in a burst of fire, metal, and stone.  Her
pursuers were gone.
     Except for the wreckage.
     Rushing right at her.
     "NO!!!"
     No one could say she didn't try to avoid it, but there was so much wreckage to
avoid.  An errant fragment of the hull cleaved through one of her wings, sending sparks
flying from the console as the ship was thrown about.  Mira was jerked forward and her
head crashed against the canopy before she was thrown back into her seat.  The
cockpit filled with the smell of ozone as she fought for control of the fighter which rattled
with tiny impacts.  She was almost clear, just...just a little more.
     She couldn't tell for sure, most of her sensors were dead and her
lightheadedness made it hard to think, but she thought she made it clear of the
asteroids.  Her grip on the control stick loosened; the controls were practically useless
now anyway.  Was that a planet in the distance?  Hard to say.  Had to find the radio... if
it worked... call for help... someone...had to be...
     I didn't make it this far... to stop now.    
     Can't give up.
     Can't...
     can't...
                              +    +    +    +    +    +    +
     "General Norak, King Zarkon wishes to speak with you."
     The reptilian commander stood up from his chair on the bridge of his flagship, the
"Devastation," and motioned to the main view screen.
     "King Zarkon," he bowed to the image of his ruler.
     "General, I want a progress report on your mission."
     "Yes, your highness.  I have sent word to all our ships in the area and we will be
gathering our fleet outside the planet's sensor range until the attack."
     "Good, Norak. After my idiot son's latest defeat, we'll need it.  Especially if they
find him before I do," the king's eyes glittered cruelly. "Telos should give you no trouble. 
Just be sure you don't damage it.  If it does exist, I want it in one piece."
     "Of course, you highness."
     "Which means no stupid mistakes!  I don't have to remind you what happened to
Yurak, do I?"
     "Of course not, your highness."
     "Good.  Do not fail me Norak.  Remember that."  The screen went blank.
     General Norak glared at the screen in silence; the corner of his mouth twitched in
disgust.  Imagine, comparing him to that fool.  Aside from the same race, he and Yurak
were nothing alike.  It was Zarkon who was the fool, underestimating him like he did. 
The king had practically dropped possibly the most powerful weapon in his lap, and
expected him to hand it over without question.  
     No, thought Norak, his yellow eyes narrowed, if he was successful in this mission,
Planet Doom would see some changes.  Enough forces were loyal to him.  It wouldn't be
hard to situate himself in a position of power.  Then, there would be true conquest.
                              +    +    +    +    +    +    +
     "...Just be sure you don't damage it.  If it does exist, I want it in one piece."
     "Of course, you highness."
     "Which means no stupid mistakes!  I don't-"
     "That's enough," the Druul commander interrupted, and the recording was
silenced.  "When did you intercept this transmission?"
     "Less than an hour ago," the young officer answered.  "I thought you'd want to
know."
     "Thank you.  So... It seems Zarkon finally solved the puzzle.  After all this time, of
all people..." he frowned, deep in thought.  
     "Contact General Zuir, " he said at last.  "Brief him on the mission and tell him to
bring the prize to us."
                              +    +    +    +    +    +    +
     Deep within her darkness, Mira could swear she smelled bacon cooking.
     Part of her tried to open her eyes, only to be overruled by the rest of her body
which wanted to go back to sleep, except for the stomach, which wanted to know
whether that was really food she smelled or not which argued with the part of her brain
that worried that the thing that was cooking was her.  Mind and body debated a little
while longer before she slowly opened her eyes.
     She was in a small room that looked as if it were made from a storage cargo hold
decorated haphazardly with what seemed like mostly junk.  Piles of metal parts filled
several makeshift shelves, while even more parts, tools, and things she couldn't readily
identify were scattered over a pair of work tables, an obviously overused chair, the floor,
and wherever else they could fit.  A large poster adorned the opposite wall, depicting a
beautiful beach on Earth.  
     She was lying on a cot, still dressed in both her tattered clothes and the borrowed
uniform.   The uniform was in almost as bad shape as her old clothes; nicked and
frayed,  one of the sleeves was completely torn away and the exposed arm had a large
bandage on it.  It felt like there was another bandage around her head.
     Through the far doorway, she could hear the sounds of someone moving around. 
As she tried to raise herself on her elbows to get a better look, her head began to spin,
and she fell back with a small groan.
     The sounds outside stopped for a moment.  Then, Mira could hear a rattle of
plastic and a set of heavy footsteps just before a man in his late thirties stepped into the
doorway.  He was of about average height, with grey-streaked, raggedly cropped hair
and an equally ragged stubble of a  beard that framed his pleasant smile.  He was
wearing a green flight suit and a battered flight jacket that was both well used and well
loved.  In his hands he held a tray with a number of somethings she couldn't quite make
out on it.
     "Good, you're up," he beamed, "I was beginning to wonder aboutcha.  Here,
thought you might want some breakfast."
     The man held out the tray with plastic dishes which had several pieces of toast, a
few strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, some butter and jam, and a large glass of orange
juice.  It smelled heavenly.  That alone gave her the strength to sit up.
     "Sorry 'bout the eggs," he apologized as she dug in, "I forgot I only had
reconstituted left- Hey, careful there.  You'll make yourself sick if you keep eating that
fast.  You act like you haven't eaten in months."
     "...Haven't," she managed between bites.  Reconstituted or not, this was the best
food she'd ever had. 
     "Really," he said, nodding slightly. He then pulled over the old chair and sat down
next to the cot.  "Guess it was a good thing I happened to be around.  You're pretty
lucky, ya' know.  Most people don't even try to fly though an asteroid belt; you had to go
and have a full dogfight in there.  Watched most of it on my scanners; ya' don't often get
to see a buncha Doom Fighters gang up on one of their own.  And when your ship went
down...well, thought maybe I'd see what was going on, find some salvage.  Didn't expect
to find the pilot survived."
     "'Course, robots don't bleed," he added, gesturing to her bandaged arm, "so the
way I figure it, that pilot's probably got quite a story to tell.  So, my dear, what IS your
story?"
     Mira finished draining most of the orange juice.  "My story?"
     "Yes," he said as he leaned in, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, "The one that
tells me WHY you're wearing two sets of clothes and flying a Doom fighter like a bat
outta Hell?"  
     "Uh... Do you want the whole thing, or just the short version?"
     "Surprise me."  She couldn't tell, but she suspected he had a weapon ready if he
thought she was lying.
     "Well... Um. I used to be a member of the Galaxy Garrison's Defense forces
stationed on Planet Balto," she blurted out, "King Zarkon's forces attacked us, we lost, I
was captured.  That was about a year ago...I think.  Finally, I saw a chance to escape,
stole a uniform and a fighter, tried to make a run for it.  I tried to lose them in the
asteroids, but the ship was damaged, and... and that's all I remember."
     His face softened. "Hmm... Short version?"
     "Uh... I guess you could call it that."
     "Mm.  You're going to have to tell me the long version one of these days."
     "You believe me?"
     "My dear, if you were working for them, number one, they'd've given you a better
story, number two, they wouldn't have sent you INTO an asteroid field 'cause even they
aren't that crazy, and number three, even if they saw me, they wouldn't bother with a
nobody like me, and there aren't any settled planets around here for parsecs. Now, I
want to be as careful as the next person, but can't think of any other reason you'd be out
here like this, 'cept what you told me.  Ya' done with that?"
     "Huh?"
     "The tray.  Unless you're going to eat that too."
     She smiled weakly as she handed him the tray. "Sorry.  And thank you."
     "Ah.  Don't worry about it."
     "Wait.  I don't know your name."
     His smile broadened.  "You can call me Owen.  And you are?"
     "Mira."
     "Well Mira, welcome aboard.  I can drop you off at the next planet when I stop for
supplies.  'Til we get to Telos, you'd better rest."
     Telos, she thought, why does that sound...
     Oh no.
     "I need to use your radio!  It's important."
     Owen stopped and peered back around the threshold.  "What d'ja say?  My
radio?"
     "Yes," she answered, struggling to her feet, "I have to warn...Telos about...
about..." Her head started to whirl again, but she tried to ignore it.
     "Now hold on a second -"
     "Please..." she began, trying to keep her balance, "Doom is going to Telos...
Looking for something... have to..."
     Mira felt her legs weaken and she dropped to her knees.  Her head pulsed with
pain as if a sonic drill was packed inside her skull.
     She felt a reassuring arm help her to her feet and lead her back to the cot.
     "I tried to tell you, you need your rest.  I'm no doctor.  I just know a few of the
basics, enough to know that you need to stay there."
     "But-"
     "But nothing. You, stay put."
     "Telos-"
     "I'll take care of it.  You rest, okay?"
     Mira would have argued more, but before she could, she blacked out.
                              +    +    +    +    +    +    +
     "Commander Hawkins, sir?"
     The stern commander turned from the view screens on the bridge of the S.S.
Explorer, to the young ensign behind him.
     "I'm sorry to interrupt" he continued, "but we've just received a message from
someone who needs to speak with you privately, sir."
     "Is it from Galaxy Garrison?"
     "Er, no sir... I don't think so, he... that is, he doesn't look like Galaxy Garrison,
sir... but he seems to know the protocols.  And he told me to mention 'Argos'? Sir."
     Hawkins looked away to his screens for a moment and sighed.  It couldn't be him,
there was just no way.
     "I'll take it in the other room," the commander sighed.  How long had it been, six
years?  Seven?  What could he want now anyway?
     Hawkins switched on a viewer; the face that smiled back at him was scruffy,
disheveled, and exactly who he expected to see.
     "Hawkins, it's been a dog's age."
     "Well, well, well... Commander-"
     "PLEASE, not that. I left that behind when I retired."
     Hawkins accidentally let half a smile slip though his serious expression. "Owen
then, this had better be more than a social call to drag me away from my duties."
     "Unfortunately, it is.  Any chance you can get to Planet Telos quickly?"
     "Telos?  I don't think so.  The Vehicle Voltron is scheduled to be at Planet Neeta
in two days."
     "I was afraid of that.  I'm going to Telos myself.  I just got word that Zarkon's
people may be headed that way."
     "How did you hear about this?"
     "Got a passenger.  She's in bad shape, but she managed to tell me about them
headed for Telos.  They're after something. I think it's big."
     Commander Hawkins thought about this a moment.  "Are you sure about the
source of your information?"
     "I'm sure.  You know I've always been a terrific judge of character."
     "Hm."
     "That and I pulled her out of a wreck after she out flew a squad of Doom Fighters. 
Through an asteroid field.  And it looks like she's wearing part of an old Garrison
uniform.  I think she's legit."
     "I see.  Do you have any more information?"
     Owen shook his head.  "Sorry.  Like I said, she's in bad shape, and my field
medicine was always a little shaky.  I've got to get her to the hospital there ASAP."
     "That's unfortunate.  I can send word to Galaxy Garrison to alert Telos of a
possible invasion, but unless I have more, my hands are tied."
     "S'okay Hawkins.  I know you'd do more if you could.  So... how've you been?"
     "I'm well, all things considered."
     "I've heard.  Those recruits aren't giving you too much trouble?
     "No.  They're an exceptional team.
     "That's good.
     "How have you been?"
     "Oh, except for this, can't complain.  Keep my own hours, no uniforms that never
fit right... though my cooking's about as bad as regular mess hall.  How's the Argos
doing?  I haven't seen her in years."
     "...She was decommissioned four months ago."
     "She was?  Damn.  She was a good ship.  Best one I ever served on."
     "I remember.  And the last one you served on as I recall."
     "Yeah.  After Brahos, didn't seem like there was much reason for me to stick
around. Not after that little war."
     "Is that why you resigned?"
     "Yeah, that and... well that's not important.  Just let Telos know they've got a
possible invasion on the way.  Maybe we'll get lucky somehow."
     "I will."
     "And you don't have to worry about me pulling my old rank again to call you; I
don't intend on makin' this a habit."
     This time Hawkins did smile. "All right.  Take care of yourself, my friend."
     "You too, Hawkins.  Owen out."
     The commander made his way back to the bridge.  He couldn't help but think that
his old friend had gotten himself in deeper than either of them knew.
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To be continued