VOLTRON-X

                                   Book Five:  The Return of the Prince
                                                By: C. Schultz                                                     

     The impromptu celebration lasted far into the night.  A'lara 's people, and the
princess herself, showed their gratitude with music, dancing, and such food and drink
as they could muster after two long years of siege.  All of the men-  Keith, Sven,
Lance, even Hunk and Pidge-  were kissed, hugged, toasted and made much of.  It was
quite an evening.  When at last the party began to wind down, Keith made his excuses
and got his men back to their dorm.  They were too excited to sleep, though.
     Sighed Lance, strumming the opening bars of a Wretched Exxess tune,
     "Dude. I could get into this hero business.  If half the offers I got pan out, I'm going
to be a very satisfied man."
     Keith frowned at him.
     "We aren't here to set up a harem, Lance!  These girls are vulnerable and innocent. 
No one, and I mean no one,  is to take advantage of them.. Understood?"
     The gunner took immediate exception to this.
     "Oh, hell no!  What is this, the boy scouts?  I'm a grown man, Keith!  Seen all the
VD films and everything!  I'll follow your orders on duty, but what I do on my own
time is....,"
     "Exactly what I tell you to do!"  Keith cut in.  "As far as I'm concerned, we're on
duty twenty-four/seven,  got it?  These people look up to us!  We represent something
here!  And I'm not gonna let them down, or allow you to, either."
     Lance bristled and stepped forward, tensing for a fight.  At that point, rather
unwillingly, Sven got between them.  Taller than the others, the Scandinavian pilot
had enough of a physical presence to back them down quite effectively.
     "Keith, lighten up,"  he said in low, urgent tones,  "If you don't let these men have
some kind of an outlet, you're setting yourself up for a mutiny!  They may be heroes
here, but they're also human beings.  Think about it."
     Keith ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, mussing it still further.
     "It's been a long day," he admitted at last.  "I don't think any of us has gotten more
than twelve hours sleep in the last week....,  Tell you what:  I'm gonna sleep on it, but
don't expect any sudden reversals.  We've got an image to uphold here, and a damn
important job to do."
The tension gradually left the air as Keith wandered off to stretch out on his pallet and
think.  Lance went back to his guitar, making up a song about longing and love.  Hunk
and Pidge returned to their card game.  Sven stood at the center of the sleeping cave
for a moment longer, relaxing as the emotions around him slowly lost their painful
edge.  
     There was a sudden psionic spike as A'lara came pattering into the room in a swirl
of golden hair and heavy perfume, holding her awkwardly long skirts clear of the
dusty ground.  Sparkling with mischief, she trotted up to Sven.
     "Moshi, Evn!"  Tiptoeing, she hauled him down for an affectionate peck on the
cheek.  He seemed mildly surprised to see her.
     "Are you supposed to be here, Lilla syster?"
     She giggled, hiding her tiny laugh behind a soft, white hand.
     "I sneak.... snuck away.  Koren doesn't know I have gone yet.  Evn,"  she grew
suddenly serious,  "I want to learn to fly a lion, too.  I not..... I don't want to take little
steps and laugh behind hands and act like little simpleton.  I want to fly!  You teach
me?"
     Lance, who'd been watching all of this with tremendous interest, drawled,
     "Sorry, Baby.  This is a boy's club; all male.  You don't got a dick, you don't get to
play.  Understand?"
     A'lara blushed and hung her head.  Patting her slim shoulder, Sven said,
     "Excuse me, Vanina."
     All of a sudden Lance was boosted into the air and slammed against the cave roof
with gut-punch force, by an invisible, inescapable hand.  He writhed there, pinned like
a bug, cursing and threatening dire consequences if he wasn't let down immediately. 
Keith stirred drowsily, saw Lance's plight, smiled, rolled over and went back to sleep.
     "Don't keep him up too late, Sven,"  was all he said.  "He needs his beauty rest."
     Joked Pidge,
     "I always knew he was destined for higher things."
     Hunk grinned and stretched.   
     "Toldja about them nervous twitches, man. Caffein'll kill ya."
     Lance's response was neither polite, nor printable.  Red in the face, he shouted at
the others for a full ten minutes, never pausing to draw breath, and never repeating
himself once.  It was quite educational.
    Over the sound of his blistering oaths, Sven promised the princess a few lessons.  
     "I will teach you to fly, Lilla syster, as long as you've cleared it with Koren, first."
     Crossing her fingers behind her back, A'lara nodded vigorously.
     "Oh, yes, Evn.  He know everything.  Don't worry.  Can we start tomorrow?"
     "Well.....,"
     "Please?!"
     Her big blue eyes got him every time.  She looked just like the adorable little poster
kids Galaxy Garrison used to drum up support for colonization.  All she needed was a
ragged dress and the heading: overcrowding kills.  His resistance melted like snow on
Mercury.
     "Jaha.  Tomorrow at first light.  If you aren't there, I leave without you."
     She threw her arms around him, laughing happily.
     "Yes!  Tomorrow!  I will not forget!  Thank you, thank you, Evn!"  Suddenly her
head lifted, and she looked around, startling like a doe.  "They've missed me!  I must
go."  Giving Sven a final quick hug, she smiled around at the team and said, "Good
rest, my warriors,"  and, up at Lance, "Good rest to you and Dick,  Lan-suh!"
     "Bitch!"
     Sven bounced him against the ceiling a couple of times, until the bruised gunner
apologized for his rudeness.  A'lara pretended to not to accept, but in the end she
asked Sven to put him down, and all was smoothed over.  They were friends, after all.
     When the princess had left and all was quiet again, the team had another visitor. 
Sven was the first to notice it.  He'd been cleaning his gun in preparation for bed,
when the temperature in the cavern dropped suddenly.  He looked up from the
disassembled weapon, glanced nervously around.
     Pidge reacted next.
     "Did someone leave the cave mouth open again?" he inquired half-humorously.
     "I dunno,"  Hunk rumbled, subtly switching the cards while Pidge was distracted. 
"But dang it's got cold in here all of a sudden!  LC?  You alright?"
     Sven did not respond, for his second sight had spotted something.  Black and oily,
it poured down the walls and across the floor like some sort of evil cloud, invisible to
the others, but nevertheless there.  He'd seen something like it only once before, on
Mohenjo-Daro, the night before the battle for Centaurus.  It had crept through the
ready room, touching this pilot and that....,  Sven stood up, sending gun parts clattering
and bouncing all over the floor.  The thing was headed for Lance.
     "Lance!"
     "What?!"  The tiger-eyed young man snapped, still sore about the ceiling incident.
     "Uh....., got any cigarettes?"
     "Not with me, no.  Back in my rucksack in the anteroom."
     It was just a few feet from him now, reaching out with an icy, dark tendril.
     "Go get them."
     "Now?!"
     "Ja.  Right now!  Move!"
     Shooting him a dirty look, Lance lurched to his feet, set aside his guitar and headed
down-cavern, muttering,
     "Goddamn addict!  Lungs're probably a f*cking lump of charcoal by now!" 
     Robbed of its first choice, the messenger paused and gathered itself into a tall,
black column of swirling mist.  Then it began to flow again, heading for Pidge this
time.  Out of ideas, Sven could think of nothing to say that would get the boy out of
harm's way in time.  He knew, somehow, that the cloud would stay until it had touched
someone, and what the results of that touch would be.  Very few of his comrades had
survived Centaurus....  Coming to a sudden decision, Sven started walking, hurrying
his pace as the thing did, too.  He got there a fraction of a second before it touched the
young genius, braced himself, and walked right through the inky cloud.  It was deathly
cold, and smelt of decay.  Overwhelmed, Sven stumbled, falling into the card table
with a noisy clatter.  Pidge and Hunk leapt to their feet, exclaiming angrily, Keith
woke, and the messenger vanished, taking with it a portion of Sven's soul.
     Keith hauled him to his feet by one arm and propelled him away from the others,
scowling darkly.  When they were out of ear-shot, he growled,
     "Dammit, Sven, lay off the sauce!  We could get an alert at any minute!  If I catch
you drinking on duty again, I'll ground you!  Understand me, Mister?"
     Angry and depressed, Sven slapped the commander's hand aside.  
     "Leave me the f*ck alone," he snarled.
     Feeling the others' eyes boring into his back, Keith reacted more aggressively than
usual. He seized the tall pilot's left arm again, bruisingly tight.
    "Not until you swear to stop drinking!  This isn't the academy, dammit!"
     In a low, warning tone, Sven said,
     "Back.... off..... Major."
     Lance leaned over and whispered to Hunk,
     "Should we stop them?"
     The big man shot him an incredulous look.
     "Stop 'em?!  I only wish I had popcorn!  'Sides, I never seen a commander who
didn't improve a hundred percent after getting beat down to his socks.  Five creds on
the Lieutenant Commander."
     "That's a sucker bet.  Fifteen says they both go down."
    "You're on."
     No one was sure afterward who threw the first punch, but it was a beauty of a fight. 
To put it mildly, they beat the hell out of each other.  The high point occurred when
Sven seized Keith by the hair and hauled his face down to meet an up-rushing knee. 
As far as Hunk was concerned,  anyway.  Lance enjoyed watching Keith's low
circle-kick sweep Sven's feet out of under him.  The pilot hit the ground, Keith landing
on top of him, elbow first.  And that was only the beginning.  Hunk almost wept for
the sheer olympian perfection of it all.  Eventually, when both fighters were so
exhausted and battered that they had to lean on one another for support, and their
punches had grown kitten-weak and lizard-sluggish, Keith began to laugh.
     "Sven, man.....  what the hell were... we fighting... about, anyway?" he wheezed.
     "Damned if I know,"  his friend replied, dabbing at a bloody chin.  "Skit!  Think my
jaw's broken...,"
     "Serves you right...., revenge for my nose.  You gotta teach me that throw."
     "Which one?"
     "I dunno...., all of 'em.  C'mon, let's go get cleaned up.  You look like hell..!"
     They reeled off together after a hasty bit of first aid,  problems resolved by the little
heart-to-heart.  Hunk and Lance argued for years over who had won the bet.

_____________________________________________________________________  
   

                                                 ELSEWHERE:

     Haggar watched with a spider's patience as her servant oozed back into her
workroom.  Deep within its stygian blackness she could see a faint glitter; a bit of life
essence from its chosen victim.  A thin razor-slash of a smile crossed her face briefly. 
Success.
     "Come closer,"  the witch hissed.  "Let me see our prey."
     The death wind poured itself into the center of the stone chamber, pausing to hover
over an arcane diagram inscribed upon the floor.  The sigil glowed, began to pulse like
a strong, steady heart beat.  Matching its rhythm, her servant slowly altered itself. 
Haggar drew closer, watching the transformation with pent breath.  Drawing power
from the magical diagram, and identity from the stolen life force, her servant changed
its semblance to that of the man it had touched.
     When the change was completed, Haggar folded her arms across her thin chest and
frowned, regarding what stood in her chamber.  The death wind had selected no easy
victim.
     Unusually tall for a Sk'rova male, the man had a long-legged, hard-muscled body,
broad in the shoulders and chest, narrow in the hips and waist.  His eyes were wide,
slightly slanted and round-pupiled, his face almost beautiful.  Obviously a primate,
though an attractive one; and strong, very, very strong.  A challenge.
     Gazing upon the doomed one, Haggar began to wonder about the sound of his
screams, the taste of his blood.  Koba circled her ankles, purring excitedly.
     "Yes, Darling," she promised.  "I'll leave some for you."

_____________________________________________________________________
_


                                        A FEW DAYS LATER:
                                

      On a day of blistering sunshine and furnace heat, Lance fought for his life.  He
shoved the stick forward with desperate haste, trying to wring even greater velocity
from his already speeding lion.  Responding rather sluggishly to instrument control, 
Red went into a power dive, but the savage, whip-wielding monster she faced wasn't
so easily evaded.  Hulking, scaley and lightning quick, the brute would have been too
fast for anything but the green lion.
     Barely avoiding the beast-man's fiery lash, Lance cut a sharp loop, muttering,
     "Dammit, Sven!  Where are you, man?!"
     Just at the top of his loop, the beast man deployed a new weapon.  Opening its
huge, mottled jaws, it fired a beam of concentrated sonic force that nearly vibrated
Red to atoms.  The lion shuddered, bucked, and spun wildly out of control.  Inside the
cockpit, Lance ground his teeth and fought to stay conscious.  He tried to guide Red
out of her spin, but the stick in his hands was trembling too violently to manage.  He
couldn't even fire his weapons.  Worse yet, the engines suddenly cut off as miles of
wiring was shaken apart and a sparkling galaxy of delicate sensors vibrated to paste. 
Lance's brain was rapidly reaching the same terrible state.  Frantically pounding the
restart button, Lance watched in growing horror as the whirling ground rushed up at
him with murderous intent 
     "HailMaryfullofgrace....."
     Too tense to be sick, he got two-and-a-half  prayers out before Red smashed into
the earth with a rending crash.  Somehow-  battered and concussed-   he did not lose
consciousness.  His psionic link with his lion had always been the weakest on the
team.  Sometimes this paid off, keeping him from suffering all of the terrible damage
that Red just had, for instance.  
     Lance hung in his seat restraints for a few moments,  amazed just to find himself
alive.  Red was badly injured, but repairing herself.  He could feel the energy flowing
through her systems and his own, healing both bodies.  Unfortunately, it wasn't going
to happen quite fast enough.  Through the cracked, tilted view screen, Lance could see
the beast man's titanic foot lifting to crush the last spark from them.
     "Oh, God," he whispered.
     The foot blocked out the sun, started to come down.  Then a blizzard of long, sharp
ice crystals slashed out of the sky followed by Blue lion's booming roar of challenge. 
The monster stumbled backward, pierced by a hundred frozen barbs.
     " 'Bout time you showed up!"  Lance called into his transceiver, grinning with
relief.
     The left view screen sparked a few times, then cleared enough to display a staticky
image of Sven, shaking his head in mock disgust.
     "That's what you get for sneaking off on your own, du idiote.  Ar du alright?"
     "I'll live.  Watch out for the whips, and that sonic blaster's a bitch, too."
     "Jaha."
     Executing a sweeping turn, Blue thundered back around for another pass, forcing
the beastman away from Lance with a hailstorm of missiles and freeze rays.  The
monster howled, brought both whips around in a deadly arc.  Blue dove between them,
got clipped by a laser bolt.  He returned fire, using his tail laser to sear the beastman's
bulbous eyes.  It swatted at him, blasting the sonic weapon at the same time.  Sven
avoided the energy beam by a hair's width, but wasn't able to dodge the brute's
follow-up, a barrage of lasers that holed Blue in five places.  Sven suffered similarly,
surviving the wounds thanks only to Blue lion's swift repairs. Badly shaken, he had to
retreat.
     "Lance, get out of the way!"  he ordered, for the beastman had turned its attention
back to his injured wingman.
     Lance looked up from pounding upon his instrument panel, shouted,
     "I can't!  She won't start yet!  You gotta buy me a little more time, man!"  And fast. 
The beastman had lumbered to within seventy yards of its wounded prey, almost close
enough to make use of the whips.  Blue's battle-lust took over then.  Like a meteor, he
hurtled out of the sky, throwing everything he had at the snarling monster.  Blossoms
of blood and flame erupted all over its body as Blue's weapons slammed into scaley
flesh and tarnished metal.  Encouraged, Blue tried to dive in closer.  Sven's clearer
head was all that kept the lion from attacking its massive foe with teeth, claws, and
mechanical muscle.  The pilot forced Blue to pull up a bit, but too late.  Like iron
tentacles, the beastman's whips tore through the air, grappling Blue about his thick
neck and powerful hind legs..  Trapped, the lion twisted frantically, then stiffened as
the monster sent an incredible discharge of energy rampaging through his systems. 
Sven was hurled against his seat restraints, muscles contracting so violently that his
right collar bone and three ribs snapped like toothpicks.  Wave after wave of electrical
force shot through man and lion both, locking muscles and weapons systems alike. 
They were helpless.  Gleefully switching tactics, the tentacle beast began to pull,
wrenching at Blue in an effort to tear the lion limb from limb.     
     Still stuck on the ground, Lance could see and hear everything that was happening,
but he couldn't help.  Red was out of the fight.
     "C'mon, Baby,"  he pled through gritted teeth, as he hurriedly adjusted her engine
power  settings, "Jesus, God, Get up!"  To no avail.  Red was going to need at least
another five minutes before she could move.  And then her power would be minimal,
at best.   
     The shriek of tortured metal filled his cockpit.  Blue and pilot would very shortly
be ripped apart.  Then, with almost super-human effort, Sven managed to engage a
weapon.  It wasn't much; he fired a missile, which went entirely off course and
detonated in the air some fifty feet from the beastman.  No real damage was done, but
it startled the creature into slackening its grip a bit.  Blue got a leg free, bit through
one of the tentacles, and all of a sudden they had a fighting chance.  Repairs began
immediately, healing dislocated limbs and snapped bones.  At almost the same
moment, Red completed her recharge and bounded to her feet.   Lance hit emergency
restart and gave her full throttle.
     "Honey, I'm home!"  he called out, for all the world like a suburban husband back
from a business trip to Proxima Centauri.  Sven played along.  Blasting free of the
beastman's weakened grip, he cried in pretended shock,
     "For helvete!  You never told me you were married!"  and fired his freeze ray.  The
monster's remaining tentacle whip was instantly flash-frozen.  Streaking past at mach
three, Red shattered it with a single swipe of her paw.
     "Trashy wench!"  the gunner shouted in mock wrath, as he cut loose with Red's
plasma blast.  "Can't turn my back on you for five minutes without you jumping into
the arms of the first damn navy pilot who stumbles along!  A soldier I could
understand, but a sailor?  Have you no pride, woman?"
     Then one of Blue's claw missiles detonated just twenty feet from him..
     "Hey!  You did that on purpose!"
     "Sorry."
     "The hell you are!  Just wait 'till this is over, Ericksen!  I'll knock the paint off those
designer chromosomes of yours faster than you can yell for your test-tube mamma!"
     "Lance, thirty degrees right bank!"  Sven commanded, ignoring the insult.
     His wingman responded without thinking, bringing Red around exactly as ordered. 
A horde of missiles hissed past Red, missing on all sides by a scant two feet, and
blazing onward to strike the beastman full in its ugly, bug-eyed face.  A tremendous
explosion shook the surrounding countryside for miles around.  Whooping gleefully,
Lance followed up with a torch blast that finished the job.  The monster collapsed to
the ground, headless and burning.
     "You know, LC,"  Lance remarked, as he brought Red to a gentle landing far away
from the stench and mess, "they just don't make those things like they used to."
     Blue touched down close alongside and butted heads affectionately with the
trimmer red lion.
     "Ja, well, I'm not complaining.  That one was almost more than we could handle
alone."
     They disembarked as the lions settled down to rest and recuperate.
     "So why didn't you call for help?"  Lance asked,  "Keith and the rest would've been
here in a couple of minutes."
     The taller man shrugged.
     "Keith doesn't know that you snuck out of the meeting."  he replied. "Doesn't know
I did, either, hopefully."
     "Dude!  You mean he's still talking?" 
     "Probably.  Pidge can catch us up on what we missed later, if he can stay awake,
that is."
     "I'm saying!  Hell of a guy, Keith, but damn, he'll go on for hours!"
     They sat down in Blue's long shadow to talk.  Rather to Sven's surprise, Lance had
brought along his flight bag.  Reaching into it, the gunner pulled out, not charts or
notepads, but a couple of bottles of the weak local beer.
     The Eurasian pilot scowled disapprovingly,      
     "You know you're not supposed to drink on duty,"  he said, Keith's lecture on the
subject still being on his mind.
    "You telling?"
     "Nej."
     Lance grinned at him, and tossed one over.
     "So, shut up and have a beer."
     Sven uncorked the dark green, rather deformed-looking bottle and downed half in
mere  seconds.  Grimacing, he set the rest aside.
     "Tastes like skit."  he commented.
     "I dunno, I kinda like it.  Reminds me of the homebrew back on Ariel..  When there
was an Ariel."
     Sven grunted.
     "You know what I want?"  he asked, flexing his still-sore ribs and shoulders.
     "A tall Chinese blonde?"
     Sven actually had to think about that one for a moment.  Finally, he said,
     "Nej, a real beer, or something to eat that hasn't been burnt to cinders by that
three-hundred pound amazon nursemaid of  'Lara 's. "
     Lance winced, nodding.
     "Isn't she scarey, though?  That face would make a bullet train take a dirt track, I
swear!  And an attitude to match.  I don't think Hazar himself could back her down."
     "I know I can't.  Damned if I'll ever smoke in the caves again."
     Lance snorted.  
     "Who knew she could hit that hard?" he commiserated.  "She's still better than
Koren, though.  God, that man gives me the creeps.  Always staring like he thinks
we're gonna steal the silverware, or something. Remember how he lost it when he
found out you were teaching 'Lara to fly?  And if he warns me not to scratch the paint
job one more time, there's gonna be a beat down!"
     "Well, I'll help, as long as someone keeps Gargantua off of me."
     "Aw, you know you want her, you big stud!"
     Sven smiled slightly.
     "Actually, I think she's more your type, Lance-  slow enough to catch."
     "Okay; that one's gonna cost you, wise ass!"   Calvin got a full body shiver as he
visualized himself trying to catch Nanna...., or worse yet, succeeding.  It was enough
to guarantee life-long celibacy.


       
   __________________________________________________________________


                                                              GALRA:


     Half gunship, half yacht, the great black spaceship settled to the ground amid a
two-hundred gun salute.  Seven fighter squadrons roared overhead in precise
formation, dipping their left wings in unison as they passed over the black ship.  An
ugly, three-note fanfare played over and over again, nearly drowning out the scripted
cheering of the carefully chosen crowd.  The new crown prince had returned to Galra.
     Marching in lock-step, an honor guard of Zarkon's elite Scarlet Swords crossed the
castle's stone landing pad to stand at sharp attention before the ship.  Their officer
went a few paces further, faced the boarding hatch, and whipped off a twisting salute
with his left arm.  His troops did the same, perfectly silent.  They held the pose for ten
full haads before the hatch opened, and the prince deigned to emerge.
     He was tall, of course; no son of Zarkon's had ever been otherwise.  Broad in the
shoulders and chest, with just a hint of his father's muscle-bound bulk, he could not
eradicate the stamp of his long-dead Sk'rova mother.  Hair, long and silvery-white,
cascaded like an icy river from his helmeted head to his knees.  His light blue skin was
only faintly scaled, and his cat-like golden eyes wider than normal for a Galran, signs
of the weak mammalian blood that warmed his veins.  He wore tight fitting
body-armor of black and red titanium-steel mesh.  Bullet proof, of course.  Since his
brutal slaying of Zarkon's favorite son, Prince Kerdic, Lotor had made scores of new
enemies.  He'd had to leave for awhile, but couldn't stay away, for the plots and curses
grow up as thick and rank here as weeds in a midden.  Many of Kerdic's followers
would have liked to see him hung for the vultures...., including the emperor himself. 
Unfortunately for them, a very large warfleet stood ready to defend their fierce and
cunning young lord.  Thus, the amusingly stiff welcome.  Lotor sensed his enemies'
hatred and rejection; thrived on it, even.  It strengthened his will to crush, to dominate
and rule.  Sneering slightly, he descended the boarding ramp as calmly as though his
welcome had been a sure thing.     
     Lotor's life had been a continual battle for survival and respect.  In the eyes of his
father, dead brothers and every other pure blooded Galran, the Sk'rova blood had
condemned him to a life of cringing servitude.  But Lotor was a fighter, and he'd
carved his ambitions into the flesh of every other Galran prince but his half-brother
Oig'n, much younger and far away in fosterage.  
    As Lotor's boots rang against the metal boarding ramp, he turned his handsome face
up to the smoggy sky, inhaled the sharp wind and thought...,
    "Mine."
     Only a fat, murderous reptile stood between Lotor and the throne, now..... though
not for much longer.  Reaching the end of the ramp, he paused long enough to return
the officer's salute and comment favorably upon his troops.  The man beamed,
somehow standing even straighter.  Satisfied, the crown prince moved on.  On so little
a thing as the loyalty of a single man had empires been lost.
       From landing pad to throne room the distance was perhaps three hundred yards. 
Lotor chose to walk it, for the night was a nice one, for Galra.  He passed beneath
arches carved in the shape of bones, and gem-crusted banners emblazoned with skulls. 
Home sweet home. 
     The hastily coached masses knelt as he passed, staying that way for twenty long
haads after he'd gone.  It wasn't wise to offend a prince of Galra.
     Within the palace proper all was quiet.  Most of the flunkies and sycophants had
gone into hiding.  His father's bent old chamberlain met him at the throne room doors,
wringing his hands like a nervous girl.  Amusingly, the fellow actually tried to bar
Lotor's passage.  The crown prince transfixed him with a predator's cold yellow glare.
     "Out of my way, Old Man," he warned.  "I am here to see the Emperor, and nothing
will stop me." 
     The chamberlain stood trembling before him an instant longer, then bowed deeply
and withdrew.
     "Yes, My Prince," he whispered fearfully.
     The huge, spike-studded double doors swung open at that.  Hand upon the worn hilt
of his laser sword, Lotor strode within.  He did not bow upon entering, but walked
directly, proudly, to the base of the throne, eyes never leaving Zarkon's scaley face. 
The emperor, he noticed with deep, private satisfaction, looked nervous.
     When he could proceed no further, Lotor drew his sword, knelt, and offered it up
with both hands to his tense father.
     "Sire,"  he began, in a vibrant, ringing voice,  "I bring you the spoils of a hundred
new worlds, and a war fleet with power enough to lay waste to the entire planet."  Not
very subtle, perhaps, but no one had ever accused him of tact.  Or warmth, kindness,
or sensitivity, for that matter.  Zarkon nodded, his eyes like daggers.  The implied
threat hadn't been lost upon him.  Instead of panicking, however, he decided to throw
one problem at the other.
     "I see.  You come at a good time,  My..... Son.  Yurak and Haggar both have failed
to control an uprising on Arus.  It is my wish that you deal with the matter.  In this way
will your legitimacy and royal might be proven before all the empire."
     Lotor's eyes narrowed as he considered Zarkon's cagey words.  The old bandit was
up to something, but his son simply didn't have enough information to decide what. 
Arus?  The name was familiar only from dusty star charts.  Some jerk-water mud ball
with a desperate local militia, probably.  Sensing insult, Lotor flushed; a purely
Sk'rova reaction that he hated.  His voice was far harsher than normal as he replied,
     "No obstacle to your Imperial dominion will be tolerated,  Sire.  In your name, I
will make this Arus a charnel pit." 
     Zarkon bared his fangs in what might have been a smile.
     "Go then, My Son, and do not fail me."   In his private heart the monarch laughed,
for he intended to make certain that Lotor would never leave Arus alive.

     __________________________________________________________________


     The first hint of a pale dawn was just gilding the mountains, and Sven was already
halfway through with his hyungs.  Only the sword moves remained undone.  He stood
by the shore of Lake Jishi, in what had seemed to be a hidden spot.  There were trees
there, and green reeds, and a few nameless, piping animals.  At this point in his
exercises, he was at that completely relaxed, vitally aware stage that he could only
reach through the ritual movements of the martial arts.  It was an incomparable
feeling.
     One with everything around himself, Sven walked over to the sword hanging in its
lacquered scabbard from the branches of a faara tree.  He bowed to her, for she was
ancient and honorable.  Then he drew her, and three and a half feet of shimmering
carbon-steel came hissing forth from the scabbard like a tigress from her den.  The
rising light caught her bright-ground edge just so, turning her all to liquid fire.
     Backing away from the scabbard, Sven flowed easily, unthinkingly into the first of
his sword moves.  It was like a dance, beautiful and fulfilling, but with a terribly
deadly purpose.  Over the next two hours, he slipped from one stance, slash, guard or
thrust to another, some powerful enough to hew the head from an armored opponent,
others subtle and controlled enough to shear through a single hair.  The blade whipped
around him in glittering arcs, almost invisibly swift, never faltering.   Sven excelled at
each maneuver, for she would not let him do otherwise.
    When the ritual ended he was slightly winded, but relaxed and calm.  He brought
the sword around in a final shallow circle, slicing his own right forearm to give her a
bit of blood.  Then he cleaned and sheathed the proud blade, and hung her securely in
the branches of the tree by his sidearm.  In all of these years, she had never touched
the ground, nor would she, until the day he died.  
     Glancing  at his watch, Sven saw that nearly forty minutes remained til Keith's
latest meeting.  Time enough for a quick, cleansing swim.  Taking off his clothes, he
folded them with military precision and laid the bundle upon the ground below his
suspended weapons.  Then it was time to hit the lake.
     The water was cold, and filled with tiny, inquisitive fish.  Their constant
exploratory nibbling took some getting used to.  Reflecting that this was nothing at all
like Terre Haute's  sanitized, crystal-clear pool, he dove as deeply as he could.  It was
murky down there,  except for the occasional flashes of colored light from Blue's
hiding place.  He returned to the surface.  Sensing Sven's presence, the lion batted
playfully at his thoughts, begging for another flight.     
     He was just about to promise an afternoon aloft when a disconcerting sound caused
him to retreat to the reed choked shallows.  Voices.  Female voices.  And one of them
belonged to A'lara 's horrid nurse.  Peering through the weeds, he spotted a handful of
girls with great baskets of dirty clothes toiling toward the lake beneath Nanna's baleful
glare.  They giggled and whispered occasionally despite her, anticipating a joyous
afternoon away from the stuffy caverns.  Most of them were pretty young things, amid
whom Nanna stood out like a battle-scarred turkey hen among swans..  Naturally, the
entire cavalcade was headed right for him.  His peace and contentment deserted the
young pilot on the spot.
     "Aj, fan!"
     Sven sank a bit lower in the water.  He could always escape to the other shore of
the lake, but his clothes and weapons were here, and he couldn't very well leave them
in Nanna's iron clutches, or show up at the meeting bare.
     There was no help for it, the pilot decided, he was going to have to try using
influence, and hope that he had enough power to keep seven lively young women and
one rabid old battle-ax from looking his way as he snuck naked through their midst. 
What would happen to him should the old harridan notice his passage, Sven didn't care
to imagine.
     Taking a deep breath, he put forth his mind, touching each of their thoughts just a
bit.  The girls went right on talking and giggling, while Nanna scowled and rasped
orders.  Putting off their shoes at the pebbly shore, the girls pulled soiled garments
from the high-piled baskets, spread them onto the water and began treading them
down, breaking into little work songs as they did so.
     "Less chatter and singing over there, Tilleen!"  Nanna commanded, hairy arms like
great smoked hams folded upon her mighty bosom.  "There's no one here to show off
for!"
     When they were well into their work, and Nanna had settled her shuddering bulk
onto a little  camp stool and begun to drowse, Sven emerged, cautious, quiet and
dripping.  He held his breath, but the girls did not so much as glance his way.  Nanna
snored a little, sounding rather like Hunk, but she didn't move.  Somewhat reassured,
Sven slunk between them, passing just inches from the slumbering nurse.  A slight
breeze ruffled the leaves, sighed against his bare flesh.  He had never been so acutely
uncomfortable in his life.  Some of the girls were quite attractive, which only made
matters worse.  He did his best to ignore them, and kept going.  At long last he
reached the tree.  Snatching free the sword, he seized his clothes and started to hurry
off.  Then a wet, rolled towel snapped him upon the bare backside, propelling Sven
out of ten year's growth.  He lunged for the safety of the trees while Nanna guffawed
behind him, and didn't stop running for half a mile.

     _______________________________________________________________

     Jogging through the wood with hundred pound packs upon their backs and laser
rifles gripped close, Keith, Lance, and the puffing Hunk were nearly trampled by
Sven.  Only quick reflexes and superb training kept them from being bowled over.  At
first Keith thought that another attack had begun.  Then he noticed that his friend was
unwounded.... and unclothed.  Or  nearly so.  Sven had managed to yank on his briefs
at some point in his flight, but other than that, he wore not a stitch.  Lance shook his
head and grinned.
     "Sven, ladies and gentlemen, let's give him a big round of applause!"
     Beside him, Keith frowned.
     "I'm sure you've got an explanation for this, Commander Ericksen?"  he began.
     Sven nodded.
     "You're right," he replied, and stalked on past. 
     Hunk, failing as usual to grasp the situation, muttered,
     "Dang,  navy PT sure is tough!"     
     __________________________________________________________________

                               NORTH- BENEATH THE ICY WASTES:

     When Haggar returned to her work room that morning, she received a nasty shock. 
Lounging upon her chair, booted feet propped negligently against an alchemy table,
was Prince Lotor.  He was nursing a drink, something poisonous looking and red. 
Though his presence was important to her long-range plans, Haggar hadn't expected
him back this soon.  She wasn't prepared.
     "Good day, Old Hag,"  he sneered.  "Become a Sk'rova fan, have you?"  For the
image of her handsome intended victim still hovered in the center of the room.
     "Merely research!"  she snarled, sweeping his feet off of the table with a
bad-tempered spell.  "I must study the foe in order to destroy it!"
     "I'm sure."  Getting to his feet with the lazy grace of a mountain lion, Lotor added
tauntingly, "These obsessions of yours will be your undoing witch.  Look how the
business with my father turned out.  For all that he promised you, you're nothing more
than Zarkon's whipped and willing slave, aren't you?  Not even pretty enough to bed
anymore.  If it weren't for your magic, he'd have tossed you into the pit decades ago!"
     Haggar trembled with wrath, her hate like a shining blade.
     "You wouldn't know anything about obsessions, would you, My Prince?"
     The handsome, unfeeling king's son twitched a shoulder.
     "I'm smarter than that."  He replied.  "Slaves have their place....., in the bed and
then into the pit, as far as I'm concerned."
     Haggar nodded thoughtfully.
     "Perhaps you're right, Highness."  Staring at him through slitted eyes, she began a
spell, easy and uncomplicated, but dreadfully powerful.  'Laugh if you will, Oh Prince,' 
she thought, 'but soon you shall learn the meaning of ruinous love, to your ever-lasting
sorrow!' 
      The Sk'rova princess looked a bit like Lotor's perished mother....., how easy it
would be to nudge him in her direction and sink the hook so deeply in his black heart
that the bastard would never free himself.  It was a perfect vengeance.  Aloud, she
said,
     "Let us put our disagreements aside, My Prince, and work together for the
destruction of your father's enemies.  What are your plans?"
     The conceited fool took the bait, launching into a long and detailed account of how
he intended to abolish the Arusian uprising.  He never noticed the slight tingling of
Haggar's spell.

     __________________________________________________________________


     Over the next few days a number of attacks occurred.  Sometimes it was Yurak's
pathetic ground forces, sometimes another beast man.  Always the enemy was beaten
back, or destroyed.  And with every fight the team became a little sharper, until they
operated as a powerful unit, thinking and acting as one.  Sven and Lance were
wingmen, partnered by being the right side of Voltron.  They did just about everything
together, and came to know each other's minds as they knew their own  reflections. 
As the left side, Hunk and Pidge were similarly bound.  Keith had no partner, forced
by the loftiness of Black lion's position and the loneliness of command to keep
somewhat apart from the others.  If it bothered him, he never said so, keeping his
feelings, as usual, very much to himself.
     And slowly, ever so slowly, they beat the Galrans off of Arus, though not without
the occasional set back.  During one particularly savage battle, Voltron was very
nearly destroyed.  Only A'lara 's quick thinking saved the robot and his five pilots.  It
came about this way:  Haggar created two beastmen from captured locals, giving them
magnetic powers, and the ability to drain the vital energy from even so mighty a being
as Voltron.  Cleverly, she sent only one against the cavern refuge of the princess and
her warriors.
     Lance was on monitor duty the morning that the first monster showed up.  He'd
been playing solitaire and fantasizing pleasantly about a certain pretty chambermaid,
when the long range scanner displayed a warty monstrosity with six segmented,
pincer-tipped arms and a pitifully human face..  Its vacuous, rolling eyes appeared
totally insane.  
     "Give a guy a break!"  Lance muttered, "I haven't had my coffee yet!"  Then,
flipping on the comm, he bellowed,  "Up 'n at 'em, Dudes!  It's showtime!"
     The team assembled rapidly.
     "What's the scenario, Lance?"  Keith asked, running in with his hair still wet from
bathing.
     "The usual, Cap;  plug-ugly at six o'clock."
     "He is a charmer, isn't he?"
     "I'll pass."  
     Lord Koren showed up next, trying vainly to restrain the eager princess.  Give a girl
a few flying lessons, and she just flat out refused to stay put and be worshiped.
     "Oh!"  she gasped, when she caught a glimpse of the thing on the monitor.  "It look
almost... almost like a person, doesn't it?  You don't suppose....?"
     Sven gave her shoulder a rough, friendly shake, saying,
     "Nej, Vanina.  It's just a trick, to put us off from attacking.  We'll deal with it."
     She smiled at him.
     "Good luck, then, all of you.  Return safely!"
     Koren was less enthusiastic.
     "Kindly refrain from splattering organs all over the castle environs, please!"  he
demanded querulously.  "My sinuses aren't up to another two weeks of rotting flesh."
     Lance winked at him.
     "Love you, too, Sunshine!  Now, sit back and watch how it's done!"
     They ran off to their various transporter disks, and soon five valiant war machines
leapt into the air with eager roars.  They met high in the atmosphere, assumed an
echelon formation, and swooped down upon the yowling beastman.  Lance and Sven
peeled right, while Hunk and Pidge banked in from the left.  Keith thundered down
from above, calling occasional orders, but trusting for the most part that his team
mates knew what they were doing.  They attacked en masse, firing missiles and energy
rays at the monster.  It lashed out with snapping pincers, managed to seize hold of
Green's left front leg.  With horrible strength,  the slavering creature ripped the leg
right off of Green lion.  Pidge screamed, lost control and nose dived into the ground. 
Before the others could react, the hideously deformed claw-beast scooped Green up
and began waving her around like a club.
    "God'l mighty!"  Hunk roared.  "Keith, it's got the little guy!  I'm going in!"
     "Hunk, wait!"  the commander shouted.  But LaChance didn't listen.  Firing volley
after volley of rotor missiles, the Golden lion leapt into action.  He didn't get far.  The
claw beast used Green as a shield, catching the missiles upon her shuddering form,
then attached her to itself magnetically and turned to deal with Gold.  Opening its
mouth, the monster sprayed forth a sticky, gelatinous acid that began to eat away at
Gold's hull.  The lion plummeted to the ground, writhing and twisting as its metallic
flesh was eaten away.  Inside, Hunk screamed like a man on fire.  He, too, ended up
stuck to the beast's magnetic body.
     "Lance...!"  Sven began.
     "Way ahead of you, LC!  Smear 'im, right?"
     "Ja.  Now!"  
     Blue and Red rushed the tittering brute at over mach five, Sven high and fore,
Lance low and aft.  Like an opposing quarterback, the fiend was flipped completely
over, landing upon its back with a grinding crunch.
     "Get Hunk and Pidge!"  Keith ordered, as he dove in to keep the claw-beast
occupied.  Red grabbed hold of Green, and got stuck herself.  Now Lance, too, was
trapped. Keith and Sven didn't dare to fire upon the monster, for fear of hitting the
others.  It was at that precise instant that the other beast appeared, chuckling insanely.
     "Christ!"  Keith snapped.  He wracked his brains, but couldn't come up with a
strategy.  "Sven, any bright ideas?"     
     "I'm thinking,"  his second responded.
     "Better make it fast, Buddy.  The shit's about to hit the fan!"

     _______________________________________________________________

     Watching the monitors, A'lara bit her lip.
     "Uncle,"  she whispered,  "what if.... if....,"
     Koren patted her arm.  
     "Have faith, Princess.  Your Divine Father would not send these young warriors out
to their deaths.  Something will happen...,"  Nevertheless, he looked worried.
     Clenching her hands into little fists, A'lara began backing away.

     ________________________________________________________________


     The two monsters approached each other, weaving a horrendously powerful
magnetic field between them.  Blue and Black lion had to bound away to avoid being
caught.  Small metal objects began flying through the air, pelting the magnetic
monsters and the trapped lions.        
     "Hang on, Guys!"  Keith called out to his snared friends.  "We're working on a plan
to free you!  Just sit tight!"
     "No.....offense....., Captain Obvious.....,"  Lance grated out,  "But where.....
exactly...... do you think...... we're..... gonna go?!"
     Keith ignored the jibe.  Anxiously, he put in a call to Sven.
    "Wait a second, how about we reverse polarity, or something?!  That always
works!"
     "Ja, on Saturday morning cartoons!  Both poles of a magnet attract metal, Keith! 
We have to cancel the magnetism somehow, not reverse it!"
     "Alright, fine, Mr. Wizard!  How do we do it?"
     Somehow, the desperately injured Pidge managed to speak. 
     "It's got to be an electromagnet...., Keith, only way it could be turned off and on...
like that.  Find and cancel the ..... the damn power source...!"
     "Gotcha!  Sven, let's...,"
     He got no further, for all of a sudden, the beast men showed their other ability. 
Switching on a set of null-batteries, the mad-eyed creatures began draining power
from the two remaining lions.  Black managed to leap clear, but Blue, a little closer,
lost too much energy too quickly, and collapsed to the ground, a useless heap of metal. 
Sven was alright, but unable to act and unwilling to desert his lion.  Many sets of
claws lashed out for him, lifted Blue high into the air, then smashed the lion onto the
ground like a broken toy.   Keith was now entirely alone.

     ________________________________________________________________


     The princess ran to a certain well-hidden shrine, the place where she kept a few
mementos of her former, pampered life.  Her mother's jeweled crown was there, and
her father's red velvet  cloak.  There, too, was her stuffed doll, still beautiful in a
pearl-sewn dress of pink satin.  She had a few pets here as well, a family of friendly
white mice she'd adopted long ago.  They poked their snouts out of their crevice
homes when she appeared, ran out to greet her chittering and  pawing at her clothes in
hopes of a bit to eat.  This was her refuge, the solace she'd dreamt of all those long
months as a hostage on Galra.
     Falling to her knees, A'lara began to pray.
     "Father, please....!  Do something!  Save my warriors...., my friends!"
     King Alvor heard his daughter's plea, and responded.  Once again his ghost made
use of the Ancient machinery that he'd studied in life.  With a surge of supernatural
power, he triggered a long dormant mechanism.  A low thudding sound started up
somewhere far beneath the ruined castle.  Huge pneumatic pumps swung into action,
lifting an immense new fortress out of the depths.  It tore through the shuddering
ground like a broaching whale. Many stories high and multi-turreted, bristling with
guns and ion cannons, the seamless metal keep glittered in the sun like a mountain of
glass.
    
     ________________________________________________________________

     Keith, meanwhile, was at his wits' end.  He flew from one beastman to the other,
getting in an occasional electroblast or laser shot, but mostly just playing for time. 
Both monsters were too well defended by the powerless hulks of his defeated friends
to be shot down.  They lumbered after him, trying to catch Black lion in their
magnetic webs, or bring him down with the power drain beam.  Twisting and leaping,
it was all he could do to stay free.  Then the air assault began; wave after wave of
Galran fighter craft led by a weird, bat-shaped black cutter.  Cursing, Keith took to the
air.  For the moment at least, he was going to have to abandon his friends.

     _________________________________________________________________

     Her skirts long since torn away, A'lara ran along the top of the cliffs to the new lion
fortress.  There were guns there, her father had told her.  Ignoring the low-flying
fighter craft that strafed the fortress and lake shore, she raced the quarter-mile in a
scarce handful of minutes.  An athletic leap took her from cliff's edge to fortress
rampart, then another thirty feet to the closest gun emplacement.  Panting and grim,
she keyed up the gun as Alvor had instructed her, squinted through the sites and
picked a target; the grinning, insane face of the nearest beastman.
     "Father, help me!"  she whispered, drawing a bead on the creature's warty forehead. 
The double triggers yielded to her steady pressure, and a tightly focused beam of
energy shot across the lake and plain to drill the creature's skull.  Black blood and
carbonized brains spurted from the wound, drenching the ground.   Like a felled tree,
the monster collapsed in slow-motion grandeur.  Then she blasted the other one, with
equally spectacular results.
     "I did it!"  A'lara crowed.  A trio of fighters swooped down upon her position, then,
and she had no more time to exult.  Two of them she shot down herself.  The third fell
to the revived Blue lion, crushed in its jaws and flung away like a brittle insect.  She
waved at him, calling out proudly in the pilot jargon that had become as familiar and
beloved as her own father's voice,
     "Haul ass, fly boy,  I've got your back!"
     In her mind Sven replied,
     "Jaha, Princess.  Watch yourself!"  and launched.  She shot down fighter after
fighter, covering the lions long enough for them to recharge and repair.  Other folk
joined her at the cannons, Koren included.  Soon the web of defensive flak they wove
about the new fortress was all but impenetrable.
     A short time later the lions began to make themselves felt, scattering Galran ships
before them like chaff.
     "Dude!"  Lance called out, at one point.  "Is that the princess up there?"
     Keith grinned.
     "You'd better believe it!  Looks like we've got a new home and some major league
back up!"
     "Wow.  All that, and a crack shot, too.  That's my kinda woman!"
     "Hands off, Calvin, or I'll break your javlar fingers!"
     "Relax, LC.  That was purely theoretical....,  bank left, man.  You've made a
friend."
     Sven cut away suddenly, giving Lance room to fire a pod of missiles at a fighter
that had been aiming to solve all his problems.  The Galran vanished in a cloud of
flame, and the fight went on.

     _________________________________________________________________


     Hovering above the chaos in his sleek black warbird, Lotor could do nothing but
stare.  There was a vision on the fortress battlements.  Blonde, delicate and lovely, her
legs and arms bleeding from a thousand tiny shrapnel wounds, her pert face streaked
with soot....., the most beautiful, desirable woman he'd ever seen was shooting down
his men like a veritable demon.  He had her in his sites, thumb on the firing stud, but
all he could do was look on in baffled admiration.  His heart thudded painfully in his
chest, unaccustomed to its burden.  Not since....,  Growling,  Lotor shook his head. 
Never.  He had sworn never again to think of her, with her soft voice, lullabies and
silly kisses.  But the girl.....,  Desire crystallized into will, and will became action.  He
tried to land on the fortress, meaning to carry the girl off, but was driven back by those
damned lions.  Almost alone now, he was no match for the robot beasts and their
Ancient weaponry.  He had to withdraw.  For the moment, anyway.
     "I will have you, my beautiful one,"  Lotor whispered hoarsely, as he sped away. 
"Though my father, your pitiful friends, the entire galaxy tries to come between us! 
You will be my queen.  So swears Lotor, crown prince of Galra."

     _________________________________________________________________



     The battle lasted until nightfall.  When it was over, not a single enemy ship
remained in the air.  The lions and the fortress defenders had scrubbed them from the
face of Arus like Nanna after germs.  Though Voltron had never been formed, it was
the team's most exhilarating victory yet..  It was a high point that they were not to
reach again for quite some time, for five days later, one of them was lost.

     __________________________________________________________________