Chapter Text
Everything was a mess, and it was almost impossible to tell whether that was on purpose or not.
The flashing lights, the blaring alerts—it felt like nothing less than utter chaos.
It was anxiety-inducing at best and outright horrifying at worst.
But they all knew what to do. They all had their jobs.
And sometimes, their jobs were simply to be quiet and focus.
Oh, man, do not make me regret shutting up and trusting you.
There was a thud, a screech, the sound of scraping metal against hard stone. The lights in the shuttle flickered and died.
The screeching slowed to a stop.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of breathing, of quiet shudders of air echoing across the walls of the cockpit.
Then a single light flickered back on, and everything in sight glowed a dim, pale red.
A voice came across the intercom.
[Simulation Cleared]
Hunk’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped.
He’d been so sure that was a failure, but...they did it.
They actually did it.
“Hooooly crow.” Hunk quickly unbuckled his seatbelt. “I thought we were done for. How did we even pull that off?”
Pidge unbuckled his own seatbelt and shrugged. “I guess we have to thank our pilot.”
Hunk looked at the pilot’s seat and smiled. Okay, so their pilot did scare him sometimes. Always scowling, often shaking, but he didn’t seem dangerous, just...quiet.
“Great work, Keith.”
Keith stood from his chair, eyes trained on the floor. Before he answered, the simulation shuttle’s door slid open.
“All right, Cadets!” Iverson slammed a hand down on the side of the doorway. “Roll out!”
The smile on Hunk’s face slid off like ice down a hot, angled pan. Iverson always seemed to be yelling. Even when they did things right. How much anger did one man have to have inside of him to be that loud all the time?
All three members of their team filed out of the shuttle and lined up in front of their classmates side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Iverson began to pace in front of them.
“You three donkeys did well enough to pass, but don’t think that gets you off the hook.” He halted in place and turned toward the rest of their class. “Can anyone tell me what they did wrong?”
“The engineer dropped his tools in the main gearbox!” shouted one student.
Hunk furrowed his brow. Come on, man, I was just trying not to throw up.
“The comms spec. removed his safety harness!” shouted another.
Hunk almost rolled his eyes. Pidge was short. He couldn’t reach the radio without standing up. What else was he supposed to do?
“The pilot didn’t bring up the issues with the hydraulic stabilizer for nearly a full minute!” said a third.
Hunk’s eyes darted to Keith.
His hands were shaking again.
Whatever problems he’d been dealing with seemed to be worse than usual that day.
A vein pulsed in his temple. He opened his mouth.
And Hunk elbowed him in the arm before he even realized what he was doing.
They connected gazes. Briefly. Keith inhaled slowly through his nose. For a second, Hunk was sure that whatever energy he’d been about to expend yelling at Iverson was about to be turned on him instead.
But that didn’t happen. Keith simply released the breath he’d taken, and Hunk turned his attention back to their instructor.
“—of any or all of these problems would have resulted in a smoother, cleaner result in the simulation.” Iverson’s eye landed on Pidge, then on Hunk. “You may have passed…” Then to Keith. “But don’t get cocky. ”
“Ugh, I can’t believe how much of a creep Iverson is,” grumbled Hunk. “And Keith? Man, I thought he was going to punch Iverson in the neck for a second. I’m honestly kind of surprised he didn’t. Like, I always get the feeling he’s about two seconds from snapping, and Iverson’s not helping. Like, we passed, didn’t we? Why does he have to be like that? Why does he feel the need to be so prickly all the time? This is the Garrison, not boot camp.”
“He’s military,” grumbled Pidge, adjusting his headphones. “That’s how they are.”
“Well, your dad wasn’t like that, though, was he?”
Pidge sent Hunk a stern glare, gripping his headphones tight.
“Sorry,” hissed Hunk. “I didn’t mean it like… I mean…”
“I know,” said Pidge, almost in a grumble, lowering his headphones from his ears. “But if you’re going to keep bringing it up, I might regret telling you.”
“Sorry,” said Hunk again. “I seriously didn’t mean to, you know, rub salt in the wound, I just… I mean, do you ever really think you’re going to find him?”
“I can’t start doubting now,” said Pidge. “Not when they’re so close.” He looked up into the night sky and gripped his crossed ankles. “We just need to figure out what Voltron means. I know it has something to do with my father’s disappearance. I know it does.”
“I mean, sure,” said Hunk, shrugging and setting his hands on his knees. “Whatever Voltron is, it’s still gotta be important. Like, this is some weird stuff, but how do you know it has to do with your dad disappearing?”
Pidge’s shoulders sank. He looked so...tiny. “Why else would they take him?”
Hunk followed Pidge’s gaze into the sky. There was still a chance...a huge chance...that Pidge’s dad disappeared for reasons entirely outside of alien activity, reasons far closer to what the news had reported, but Hunk wasn’t about to remind him of that. Not again.
“I guess you’re right,” he said instead, barely louder than a murmur.
Pidge shook his head and reached for his headphones again. “We need to focus on the radio chatter,” he muttered irritably. “You should hear how crazy it’s going tonight. There’s gotta be something—”
“Attention, students!”
Hunk felt Pidge freeze beside him. They exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“We are on lockdown!” The voice from the loudspeakers was barely audible over the blaring of the sirens that accompanied it. “Security situation Zulu-Niner. Repeat: All students are to remain in barracks until further notice.”
Pidge grabbed his monitor as if it held an explanation for the sudden security measures, but Hunk barely spared it a glance before looking skyward. When he did, the reason behind the lockdown became immediately apparent.
“Uh, Pidge?” He reached for Pidge’s shoulder so fast he almost slapped it and pointed frantically at the red ball of fire rocketing through the atmosphere. “W-W-What is that? Is that a meteor, or…?”
Both of them knew the word he was hesitant to say.
Pidge reached for his binoculars and pointed them toward the stars to take a closer look.
“From the looks of things?” Pidge handed the binoculars to Hunk. “I’m going with ‘or’.”
“No.” Hunk pushed the binoculars away and jumped to his feet. “No no no. No. I did not sign up for an actual alien attack. I told you I’d help you find your dad, but this is not what I had in mind. This is actually, seriously dangerous.”
The craft they’d spotted crashed into the earth with a loud, cacophonous boom, and Hunk covered his head instinctively, half-expecting to be hit by shrapnel.
“No way,” he said, throwing his hands down. “No. I’m going back to the barracks, where we’re supposed to be. Where it’s safe.”
“Suit yourself,” said Pidge, gathering his equipment as fast as his little arms could manage, “but I gotta see that ship.” He zipped up his bag and pulled it on. “You can come with me and see the most life-changing discovery mankind has made since electricity, or you can sneak back into your room and pretend tonight never happened.” He grinned maniacally. “But I’m going.”
He turned around and rushed past the solar panels, toward the doors.
Hunk only allowed himself the briefest of hesitations before running after him.
Oh, man. What did I agree to?
Hunk and Pidge followed the Garrison ATVs from the crash site to a building Hunk didn’t even know existed. It seemed to be some kind of Garrison hospital, but it was small and lied a fair distance away from the dormitories, hidden behind the rock formations Hunk and Pidge were watching from. Hunk couldn’t help feeling suspicious.
Why did they have something so perfect for responding to the crash of an alien craft?
Were they just prepared in case they ever encountered aliens?
Or had they encountered aliens before?
Hunk lowered Pidge’s binoculars. “So, uh, do you hear the aliens—?”
“Shh!”
“Sorry.” Hunk drummed his fingers on the binoculars’ cool metal surface. “But, like, this is kind of a big… We could be charged with treason for this, right? I mean, we’re kind of spying on government secrets.”
“Government secrets that have something to do with my father,” said Pidge, rapidly typing at his keyboard.
“But how do you know that, Pidge?” Hunk almost whined. “It could just be totally unrelated aliens, or maybe—”
Pidge turned his monitor around and pointed it toward Hunk. “This is how.”
Hunk squinted at the screen. It was probably the inside of the building they were looking at. He could guess that much. But what bothered him wasn’t the room he was looking at or the people in biohazard suits or even how Pidge managed to get the footage. No, what bothered Hunk was what was strapped to the hospital bed in the middle.
“Uh… That guy looks awfully human,” said Hunk, raising an eyebrow. “Why do they have a human strapped down like that?”
“That’s not just any human." Pidge dropped his hand to his monitor. “That’s Takashi Shirogane. Better known as Shiro.” His eyes met Hunk’s. “He was the pilot on the Kerberos mission.”
“Wait.” Hunk held up his hands, palm out. “The Kerberos mission? As in the one your dad was on?”
“Exactly,” said Pidge. “But…” He looked down at the screen, brow knitting. “If Shiro’s here...then where’s my dad?”
For the first time that night, Hunk’s eyes softened sympathetically.
This was a proven lead. Even if Pidge’s father wasn’t there, someone who would know what happened to him was. Maybe the only person in the universe who did. And if Pidge’s father was... Well, if he wasn’t going to come home...then at least Pidge could get some closure.
“Okay.” Hunk scooted closer on his knees. “What do I have to do?”
Pidge unplugged his headphones and turned up the volume on the monitor’s speakers. A set of voices came through, and Hunk immediately recognized Iverson’s among them.
“Calm down, Shiro. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests on you.”
“You’re not listening to me!” Shiro lurched forward, struggling against the straps that kept him bound to the bed. “They destroy worlds! Aliens are coming!”
Hunk shuddered and grabbed his elbows. “Dude, this is creepy. They’re treating him like he’s not even a person.”
Pidge pressed a finger to his lips, gaze unmoving from the screen.
“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” asked Iverson, absolutely no mind paid to what Shiro was saying.
“I don’t know!” snapped Shiro. “Months? Years? ” He turned his head, eyes frantic and wild as he searched the room for anyone who might listen. No one did. “Look, there’s no time! Aliens are coming for a weapon. They’re probably on their way. They’ll destroy us. We have to find Voltron!”
Hunk’s eyes widened, and he and Pidge exchanged expressions.
“Voltron,” hissed Pidge.
“I guess you were right,” murmured Hunk. “It does have something to do with the Kerberos mission.”
But what?
“Sir, take a look at this.” One of the other Garrison officials—someone whose voice Hunk couldn’t recognize—loomed down over Shiro’s right arm. Hunk hadn’t seen it before, but the second the Garrison operative drew attention to it, he noticed that the arm wasn’t really arm-colored. It was tarnished, silvery. Like it was made of metal.
“It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic.”
The suit that must have been Iverson turned its mask toward the arm. “Put him under until we know what that thing can—”
“No!” Shiro struggled even more vehemently against his bonds. It gave Hunk chills even watching it happen on a screen half a mile away. “No, don’t put me under! There’s no time!”
“They didn’t ask about the rest of the crew,” murmured Pidge from beside Hunk’s ear.
“I told you Iverson was a creep,” said Hunk. “I'm officially creeped out. I feel like an accomplice just sitting here watching. This… This is wrong.”
Pidge reached for his bag. “We have to get him out.”
“Okay, yes?” agreed Hunk warily. “But here’s the thing: How? ” He climbed to his feet and gestured down the edge of the cliff. “Do you see how many guards there are down there? How are we supposed to get past all of them? There’s no way—”
Mid-sentence, Hunk screamed and threw his arms over his head, startled by a series of loud, echoing explosions that rumbled across the desert valley. He dropped to his knees and shuffled behind Pidge, as if his small body would be any protection from whatever had caused so much chaos.
“Is that the aliens?!” he asked, gripping Pidge’s shoulders. “A-Are they— Is that the aliens? Are they here? They got here so quick!”
Pidge, calm in stark contrast to Hunk’s panic, crawled toward the edge of the rock formation and peered over the edge. “No, Hunk, that wasn’t aliens. That was a distraction. Look.”
Hunk followed Pidge’s gaze into the valley below, and he froze, eyes narrowed. Hold on…
“The Garrison’s heading toward the blast and he’s sneaking in from the other side! This is our chance to—”
“Wait, Pidge.” Hunk grabbed Pidge’s shoulder again. “Do you recognize that coat? And the hair?”
Pidge turned toward him. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been stuck behind the same person every single time we’ve been tested on the simulator for the past semester and a half.” Hunk pointed down the rocks. “You can’t tell me that’s not the same guy.”
He exchanged glances with Pidge, and Pidge’s eyes widened behind his glasses.
“...It can’t be.” He stood up fast. “Why would he be out here?”
“Why are we out here?” asked Hunk.
Pidge hurriedly gathered his things. “The only way we’ll know for sure is if we help him, right?”
What few of the Garrison guards hadn’t left to investigate the blast were littered around the crash site like empty soda cans. Whoever had broken in had done quite the number on them. All Hunk and Pidge had to do was follow the trail of unconscious operatives.
At the end of the hospital hall was a bright, white room, and in that room, helping Shiro off of his hospital bed, was a very familiar face.
“I knew it!”
Keith froze, eyes wide. “...Hunk?” His brow furrowed. “Pidge?”
“Uh, hi,” said Pidge from behind Hunk’s arm.
Keith stared incredulously. “What… What are you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Hunk, rushing to Keith’s side. “No time for questions. We’re getting Shiro out of here.” He turned around and kneeled low to the ground. “Go ahead and load him onto my back.”
When Keith didn’t respond, Hunk looked over his shoulder. “Look, I can carry him a lot faster than you can, and I’d really like to get out of here, like, yesterday.”
Keith narrowed his eyes. “Why are you helping me?”
“Who cares?!” snapped Hunk. “Let’s just go!”
By the following morning, Hunk was convinced of two things.
One, Keith was absolutely insane. Driving off the edge of a cliff while trying to escape government officials and then leading friends to a bizarre shack in the middle of the desert wasn’t something sane people did.
And two, judging by the state of the corkboard in said bizarre shack in the desert, Keith was in way over his head.
“What have you been working on?” asked Shiro, utterly incredulous, echoing Hunk's thoughts.
“It’s a long story, but…” Keith turned toward Shiro. “After you disappeared, I started having some...issues.” He ran his fingers over a thread on his chart. “Anger issues. I...came close to attacking my instructors more than once. I think if one more thing went wrong, or...or if Hunk and Pidge weren't there to stop me in time, I think I would have gotten expelled a long time ago.”
Pidge and Hunk exchanged a glance. Hunk wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was one thing to be pretty sure he kept Keith from knocking someone’s lights out and something else entirely to hear it from the man himself.
“But I still knew that something was wrong,” said Keith, narrowing his eyes. “That something wasn't right about what they said about the Kerberos mission, so I started sneaking around, trying to find answers.”
Hunk looked at Pidge through the corner of his eye. That sounded familiar.
“There was this...energy,” said Keith. “Telling me to search. The more I followed it, the more I found.” He gestured toward photos he’d taken and printed out. “This outcropping with giant boulders, these caves... Markings that all tell slightly different stories about a blue lion… But they all shared clues leading to some...arrival that happened last night." He turned toward Shiro. "Then you showed up.”
“You did all of this, what, between classes?” Pidge adjusted his glasses as he leaned in to inspect the chart. “Hunk and I have been doing basically the same thing with better technology, and we haven’t found half as much.”
“Yeah, but we never went past the roof,” said Hunk, gesturing nervously. “We’ve been using signals and frequencies and radio chatter. Keith’s been out here in the middle of it.” He turned toward Keith and narrowed his eyes. “How— How did you never get caught? What are you, some kind of secret agent? Do you have some kind of hidden gadget closet in this crazy shack of yours? A series of underground tunnels or something? How'd you pull it off?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” said Keith, shrugging.
“If anyone here is lucky, it’s me,” said Shiro. “I should be thanking you all for getting me out. If you hadn’t…”
“We know,” said Pidge. “Hunk and I heard you told Iverson. What do you know, exactly?”
“Not much,” admitted Shiro. “Just bits and pieces. Nothing specific.”
“Aside from aliens looking for a weapon,” said Pidge.
“Weapon.” Hunk frowned. “Voltron. Wait, Pidge, hold on, do you think…?”
“Do I think what?”
Hunk turned around and reached for Pidge’s bag. He dug through it, pulling out notebooks and loose pieces of paper until he found one spiral notebook in particular. “Keith, I think we might have a lead on that energy you were talking about.”
“Lead?” Keith walked away from his corkboard and approached Hunk’s shoulder. “What lead?”
“Well, you know how everybody in this room has been looking for aliens?” Hunk opened the notebook and began flipping through pages. “Well, while Pidge and I were listening to radio chatter, there was this series of numbers that kept showing up, and I thought it sounded kind of like a Fraunhofer line, so I graphed it ages ago, and if the aliens are looking for a weapon, and the weapon is Voltron, and it’s here on Earth? Then—” He turned the notebook around and showed Keith. “It just occurred to me that this might be, you know, it. The Voltron thingy. And I might actually be able to build something to track it.”
Keith’s brow furrowed and he snatched the notebook out of Hunk’s hand. “Give me that.”
He glared down at the graph, then turned around and raised it to his corkboard, comparing it to one of the photographs he’d taken, a picture of canyon scenery, which lined up shockingly perfect against the line on the graph.
Hunk squinted. “Okay, that’s just not natural.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” said Pidge, mirroring his frown. “Maybe whatever left the Voltron here carved out the scenery to remind them where it was. Like a street sign. Or...crop circles.”
Shiro shrugged. “Well, it’s the best lead we’ve got. I say we go for it.”
Hunk lifted his head from his makeshift “Voltron Geiger-counter” and his mouth fell open.
Every inch of the inside of the cave was absolutely covered in carvings, some of people, some of what seemed to be an unidentifiable language, some of symbols that could have represented anything from the sun to alien crafts… And the most notable of them were the lions Hunk had seen on Keith’s corkboard.
The sound of footsteps following Hunk’s own echoed across the cave walls, and Hunk turned his attention back to the reader in his hands.
“It seems like whatever we’re picking up is coming from right below us.” Hunk turned to Keith. “How deep do these caves go?”
“Pretty deep,” said Keith, “but I haven’t found any tunnels that lead underground.”
“Maybe there’s some kind of bubble beneath us,” said Pidge, frowning at the floor. “Like an aqueduct or something.”
“Great,” deadpanned Hunk. “So how do we get to it?”
“We could tunnel down,” suggested Keith.
“What, do you have some kind of drill digger hidden in that little shack of yours?” asked Hunk.
“Maybe we could use a sledgehammer,” offered Pidge.
“I don’t have one of those, either,” said Keith, crossing his arms.
“So we buy one,” said Pidge. “You’ve got a bike. We drive to the city, get one from the hardware store, drive back.”
“Uh, quick question about that,” said Hunk. “Do any of us have money on us? Like, enough for a sledgehammer?”
“I bet Keith could steal one,” said Pidge. “He seems to know his way around the law.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” grumbled Hunk.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Pidge,” said Keith, sounding just as bitter. “Let me just sneak one out under my coat.”
“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas,” snapped Pidge.
“Maybe we should just leave it,” suggested Hunk, holding up his hands. “I mean, maybe the aliens won’t find it. It’s probably been down here for centuries. Maybe longer. If they haven’t found it yet, who’s to say they will? Maybe this is just a really good hiding place and we should leave it where it is.”
“What do you think, Shiro?” asked Keith.
Shiro didn’t respond.
Hunk looked over his shoulder. “Shiro?”
He was there. Only a few feet away. He simply wasn’t responding to his name. He seemed...transfixed by one of the carvings. One of the star-like symbols Hunk had seen before.
“Okay, this is sorta creepy,” said Hunk, hunching his shoulders. “I saw an old movie like this once, with a witch, and, like, the guy was in a basement, and he wouldn’t turn around, and—”
“Shut up.” Keith pushed past Hunk and approached Shiro from behind, his hand raised.
“Uh, Keith?” whispered Hunk. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Keith paid him no mind. He dropped his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and the next few seconds passed almost too rapidly to keep up.
Shiro whipped around aggressively, eyes wide, arm raised.
Hunk grabbed Keith by his elbow and yanked him back, instinctively pulling him away from the danger.
Before Shiro could strike, his arm began to glow purple, and he fell to his knees with a pained cry.
“Shiro!” Keith yanked himself free from Hunk’s grip and kneeled in front of Shiro, reaching for his shoulders. “Shiro, what’s wrong? What can I do? How—”
“I’m…” Shiro grunted through bared teeth, and an unnerving wave of black shadow tore away from his hand like a laser breaking free of its path. “I-I’m fine.” Shiro swallowed hard and lifted his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
“Are you sure?” asked Keith, leaning closer.
“Yeah,” said Shiro. He flexed the fingers of his right arm and stood slowly, his eyes on the ground beneath Hunk’s feet. “I… I think I know how to get down there.” He closed his hand into a tight fist, and his entire arm glowed brighter, shining a brilliant, fluorescent violet glow against the walls of the cave.
“Are you sure?” asked Keith, climbing cautiously to his feet.
Shiro’s expression darkened. “Pretty sure.” He lifted his head and looked at the rest of their group. “You’re going to want to stand back, though.”
Hunk didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Pidge’s arm and took a step back, pulling Pidge along with him.
Shiro nodded at Keith, who took a step back as well.
Then he looked at the floor.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, reeled his arm back, and with a cry of effort that echoed down the cave like an explosion, he brought his fist down and punched the stone floor.
It cracked like an egg.
And no one had been standing back far enough.
Sharp stones flew past Hunk’s head as he fell through the cave floor, screaming at the top of his lungs. Pidge clinging onto his neck nearly tight enough to choke him. They slid down the incline beneath them, water seemingly flowing in from nowhere, turning the chute into what could have been a fun natural waterslide if it hadn’t been absolutely terrifying.
The shallow water at the bottom did little to soften their fall, and Hunk hit the ground beneath the water hard. He groaned and lifted his head slowly, first to check on Pidge—who was fine—then to search for Shiro and Keith.
And he found them.
But he also found something else.
Something impossible to miss.
“Oh...my god.”
The blue lion—the very one the cave markings illustrated—stared at them, enormous, from the opposite side of a bizarrely solid-looking blue light.
“Is this it?” breathed Pidge by Hunk’s ear. “Is this the Voltron?”
“It...must be,” said Shiro, pushing off the floor with a no-longer-glowing hand.
Keith stood from the shallow pond and began to walk toward the lion. Hunk almost envied his fearlessness.
Pidge and Shiro followed a fair distance behind.
Hunk had no choice but to go with them.
He’d barely stood up before he was struck with a realization, something rather urgent.
“Does anyone else see the problem with this?” asked Hunk, watching Keith press his hands to the glowing, blue forcefield.
“What problem?” asked Shiro.
“You know,” said Hunk, “the blatantly obvious problem? The one that’s staring us all in the face? The issue with finding a giant, metal weapon that we’re supposed to be protecting that’s, like, a hundred times our size and weight and deep underground?”
Keith tilted his head back to look at the lion looming over him. “I think I do,” he said softly.
He turned around, brow furrowed, one hand still pressed to the forcefield.
“Now that we found it...what are we supposed to do with it?”
"Shiro, I gotta talk to you about something."
"Um... Okay."
Lance waited for the door to close behind him before he gave Shiro his full attention.
"I don't know if this party thing is a good idea."
Shiro furrowed his brow. "Is this because of Lotor?"
"Well, yeah," said Lance warily. "But it's other stuff, too."
Shiro crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Like?"
"First off, the last time we had a party, I kind of almost died?" Lance grimaced. "So, like, excuse me for being just a little bit wary."
"This is different," said Shiro. "There's going to be better security. There'll be a guest list, guards... People aren't just going to be coming and going as they please. They'll have to get through security."
"Yeah," said Lance, "but that's where the whole Lotor thing starts to be an issue. How do we know the people on the guest list aren't gonna, you know, set off a bomb?" He furrowed his brow. "Again."
Shiro uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his sides, balled into fists. "I don't know what's going on with you regarding Lotor, but whatever it is, you need to get over it."
"What's going on with me?" Lance narrowed his eyes. "Are you kidding me? Do you know how many times this guy nearly killed us? Because it was a lot. You weren't here for all of them, but trust me, Lotor did not have our best interests at heart."
"People change," snapped Shiro.
Lance scoffed and crossed his arms. "Yeah," he mumbled. "No kidding."
A loud whack landed just inches from Lance's ear, and he lifted his head, eyes wide, to find Shiro scowling just inches from his face.
"This is not—!"
Shiro cut himself off, and his glare softened into worry.
Lance, who just noticed he was holding his breath, breathed, and he dropped his tensed shoulders from where he'd raised them to his ears.
"Lance, I..." Shiro pulled his fist back and he looked down at it, then met Lance's eyes.
Lance managed a smile, hoping Shiro wouldn't notice the way he was shaking. "Don't... Don't worry about it." He stood up straight and pushed away from the wall he'd been backed into. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. I get it."
"That doesn't make it okay," said Shiro. "I..." He took a step back.
"It's fine," said Lance. "I mean it. Don't worry about it. I just...wanted to express some concerns I had, and I did." He shrugged. "You're our leader. You make the calls."
"I..." Shiro looked down at the floor. "I guess."
"Yeah." Lance pursed his lips, and his eyes darted toward the door. "I'll, uh, leave you alone now." He chewed his lip for a brief moment. "I mean, if you want to talk about anything..."
Shiro sighed heavily.
"Right." Lance smiled tiredly. “See you later.”
He left the room, and the door closed behind him with a soft hiss.
Lance didn’t get so much as a chance to breathe before a pair of voices Lance never heard apart anymore came bustling down the hall.
Deciding he really didn’t want to deal with Lotor and Allura at the moment, Lance turned, only to be stopped.
“Oh, Lance! I have some news I think you’ll like.”
Lance’s shoulders went rigid again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around, a false smile on his face. “Oh, yeah? What news would that be, Princess?”
Allura grinned, more in Lotor’s direction than his. “Prince—Sorry— Emperor Lotor and I were discussing wardrobe for the event on Covew, and he’s been able to pull some strings, and we can expect replicas of formal Altean armor to be custom made by the end of the movement.” She finally looked Lance in the eye. “My father used to wear such armor long ago. It’s going to be exciting to see it worn again.”
“I doubt the replica will be exact,” said Lotor, “but the style should be similar. It will be a breath of fresh air to see a revival of Altea’s distinct style.”
Lance shot Lotor a brief, skeptical frown and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What’s wrong with wearing our Paladin armor?”
“Well, nothing’s wrong with it, per se,” said Allura, clasping her hands. “But it’s not exactly fancy. And if you knew what Covews are like, particularly their social elite, then you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in something like that at such a grand gathering. I’m surprised you aren’t more excited. You've shown so much interest in fashion in the past. I would have thought you would have jumped at the chance to wear something new.”
Lance narrowed his eyes. He so desperately wanted to say, You know why, Princess, but he knew when he was outnumbered. “I just don’t think there’s any reason to go through so much trouble when our Paladin armor is just fine. ”
“It won’t be any trouble at all,” said Lotor. His dignified tone did little more than to tick Lance off. He always seemed so above it all.
“Right.” Lance scowled and turned his attention back to Allura. “Anyway, Princess, have you seen Coran?”
“Not lately, no,” said Allura. “But you might find him with the cryo pods. I heard him say something earlier about cleaning them today.”
“Great.” Lance walked past her. “Thanks.”
He wove through the corridors, hands still in his pockets, eyes on the floor as he made his way toward the med bay.
He passed Pidge and Hunk halfway down the hall, talking about something that went miles over Lance’s head, as usual. They were deep, deep in conversation. They probably hadn't even noticed him.
Sometimes, Lance wished he was smarter, just so he would be able to talk to them, to keep up with whatever they were discussing.
As Lance passed Pidge and Hunk and caught snippets like “inductive” and “Geissler tubes”, he realized just how frequent those times had become.
The doors to the med bay opened, and Lance stepped inside.
Nothing but pods. No Coran in sight.
Wearily, Lance walked to one of the pods and slumped against it.
Finding Coran would require more energy than he had.
So he simply...didn’t bother.
“What?” Pidge arched an eyebrow. “Was she not your type?”
Lance turned around and looked over his shoulder. He hadn’t even been paying attention to the coach driver. Once Pidge had pointed her out, Lance had to admit, she was pretty. All the Covews he’d seen so far were, with their pearly blue skin and remarkably long eyelashes.
But Lance had been distracted.
He’d been distracted for most of the week.
“I guess I’m just focused on the mission,” said Lance, turning his eyes back to the capitol doors.
“What mission?” grumbled Pidge. “Important hosts or not, this is just a party.”
“That doesn’t make it any less dangerous,” said Lance. “I don’t like being so far away from the Castle or the Lions.”
“You just don’t like Lotor,” accused Hunk.
“Have you ever thought that there might be a reason for that?” demanded Lance. “Like, you know, the fact that he’s the leader of the empire we’ve spent our entire lives away from Earth fighting? Or what about the fact that we’re currently standing in front of a big government building belonging to a society of people who surrendered to the Galra without even putting up a fight?”
“Covews have a reputation for wisdom and patience that goes unparalleled,” said Coran, tugging at the jacket of his suit, another gift from Lotor. “Chances are they foresaw the destruction of their planet early on and did what was necessary to survive.” He gave Lance a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “As someone who lost his planet, I can’t say I don’t sympathize.”
“Lance.” Allura’s calm voice mirrored Coran’s. “I know you’re still wary, but Lotor has shown nothing but sincere cooperation since his interference on Naxzela. We need to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Lance narrowed his eyes and looked past Allura. “Shiro, what do you think of all this?”
Shiro sent him a scowl. “You already know my opinion, Lance.”
Before Lance could respond, the double doors at the front of the capitol opened wide, revealing Lotor winged by two guards, dressed in his best Galra finery.
“Loyal friends.” Lotor descended the steps, arms outstretched gracefully, palms up, as if he planned on stooping low enough to pull the team into a group hug. “Welcome to Planet Covew. It is my greatest pleasure to be able to return here on a quest for peace rather than conquest. That being said…” Lotor turned and gestured toward the double doors behind them, which, rather than being empty, housed five remarkably elegant-looking women. They were tall and thin, each dressed in matching white and lavender clothing that looked not unlike Earth’s hanfu, but more...alien, and with long strings of what seemed to be silver coins dangling from the ends of their upper garments.
“Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to the Covewish Oligarchy.”
It really wasn’t much more than a party.
And Lance wasn’t in much of a partying mood.
He eyed the guests from the edge of the room, absently swirling his drink.
I bet I look like Keith right now, he mused, gripping his blue stone cup. Keeping to myself, scowling…
Scowling from a distance had its advantages, however.
Despite everything Shiro had said about the level of security, Lance noticed a great many people coming and going, each of them feminine, to the point Lance began to wonder if they were all female or if Covews were just feminine by human standards. The event was clearly open to the general public, judging by the vastly differing states of dress from one person to the next, and while it was great that the oligarchy had opened their doors to their citizens, it also meant that they were letting in strangers, people they couldn’t verify as trustworthy. Lance wasn't even convinced the oligarchy itself was trustworthy, of course, and that was even harder to prove.
No one else seemed worried, though. Not even Shiro, which was odd for him. At least, for the Shiro Lance thought he knew, who seemed farther and farther away from the Shiro they found floating in space with every passing day.
He was just...chatting with Lotor. Like there was no reason for anyone to be nervous.
Allura was talking with a couple of members of the oligarchy.
Hunk was playing with a few of the children Lance had seen running around.
And Pidge… Pidge seemed more interested in the food than anything else. Lance would have expected that more from Hunk, but Pidge seemed to be in it for the quiet rather than for the food itself.
A flash of very fast-moving blue and white caught Lance’s attention, and his eyes instinctively darted toward it, searching for a threat, a weapon, some kind of danger.
Anything but a little girl.
Lance frowned curiously, following the girl with his gaze until she disappeared into an unlit corridor, running as fast as her legs could carry her, tears in her moon-like eyes.
She had looked absolutely terrified, as if she was being chased. Lance waited, eyes on the corridor, worried that someone would follow, but no one did. In fact, it seemed that no one had seen the girl but Lance, as if she were a ghost slipping away into the night.
Worried, Lance cut through the crowd, dropping his glass onto a passing server's tray, and he followed the girl into the corridor.
The corridor, though dim, was not as completely unlit as Lance had thought from the much brighter ballroom.
Every inch of the walls was elaborately decorated, covered in ornate mosaics. They seemed to tell stories, though of what, Lance had no idea. He saw Covews standing in pale blue crowds over fields of flowers that reminded Lance of Earth’s dandelions. Each of the Covews’ heads was turned toward the night sky, which gleamed with stars that glowed as much in the real world as they did in the mosaics, lighting Lance’s way.
He ran past giant depictions of herds of white, six-legged, horse-like creatures, of what seemed to be clocks, each reading the same time (though Lance couldn’t understand what that time was), of trees with white, rectangular leaves, of flocks of long-necked birds, of glowing comets with long tails, of silver bells and strings of coins and glittering locks held between Covewish couples’ hands. He ran past door after door, hoping that the girl he’d seen hadn’t gone into any of them, hoping that she would be somewhere along the corridor.
And at the very end of the corridor, illuminated by a small, decorative fountain filled with a liquid that glowed a bright, brilliant white, sat the girl Lance had been looking for. She had draped herself over the stone wall of the fountain's basin. She'd hidden her face in her pale, blue arms. Her shoulders trembled with silent tears, and all of Lance’s worries from before he’d seen the girl disappeared from his mind.
Not a whole lot else seemed to matter to Lance when he stood in front of a crying child.
“Hey—”
The girl rose her head and whipped around, her pale eyes wide, and she scooted backward frantically, desperate to get away from Lance by whatever means necessary.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Lance quickly dropped to one knee and held up both hands in a peaceable gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The girl raised her shoulders, clearly unconvinced. She was tiny, comparable to a human child perhaps six or seven years old. Lance's niece had probably grown to about the same age since he’d left Earth. It was a melancholy thought.
“Honest,” insisted Lance. “Look.” He reached for his leg and brought out his Bayard.
He held it out to the girl in its neutral appearance, and she pressed herself against the wall of the fountain, hugging her knees to her chest.
“I’m a Paladin of Voltron,” explained Lance, soft and reassuring. “I help people who are sad or scared, just like you.”
The girl didn’t respond. She barely even moved, save for blinking her long, Covewish eyelashes and sending more tears rolling down her cheeks.
Lance thought for a moment, then smiled in a way he hoped was comforting and trustworthy. “Hey, want to see something super cool?”
Still, the girl remained silent, but there was a subtle change in her expression, one that was barely noticeable. She seemed...curious.
Lance turned his Bayard in his hand, shifted it into its shotgun-like form, and pointed it at the ceiling.
When Lance fired, in place of the usual burning laser, a stream of red sparks shot into the air. They hit the ceiling harmlessly and pushed out in all directions, sending a rain of glittering crimson sparkles floating slowly down all around them.
The Covewish girl tilted her head up and watched the glimmering effect until it faded, and though she seemed far from awestruck, she seemed somewhat calmed. Her grip on her knees had relaxed, and her shoulders didn’t seem to shake quite as much.
“See?” whispered Lance. “What kind of a bad guy would take the time to learn how to do that, huh?” He put his Bayard away and sat on his heels in front of the girl. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
The girl looked at her knees.
“Okay,” said Lance gently. “That’s fine. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. So how about this instead?” He offered his hand. “I keep you safe while we look for someone who can help you. Sound good?”
The girl lifted her head, but only halfway. Just enough to be able to see Lance's hand.
Then, slowly, her own tiny hand quivering, she reached for it.
Lance let out a breath of relief. “Okay,” he whispered, standing slowly. “Let’s go find your family.”
The girl began to stand as well, only to wobble and drop back to the floor, clearly favoring her left foot over her right.
“Are you okay?” asked Lance, dropping to his knee. “Did you twist your ankle or something?”
The girl sniffed.
Lance frowned thoughtfully. It had already been a lot of work to convince the girl just to take his hand, but he could think of no other option. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you want me to carry you?”
The girl lifted her head, eyes wide, and for a moment, Lance was worried that he’d scared her back to step one, but rather than pull away, the girl raised her hand and reached toward Lance’s shoulder, like a child much younger who wanted to be picked up.
“Okay, Princess,” said Lance, letting go of the girl’s hand and looping an arm around the back of her knees. “It’s your call.”
“—great sense of humor, too, and he’s great at being the castle’s engineer, but what he’s really good at is noticing when someone’s upset. I love talking to him when I’m down. He cheers me right up. And Allura? Oh, man, I bet you’d really like her. She’s really strong and super pretty. Almost as pretty as you.”
The girl grinned. She’d stopped crying not long after Lance had started talking, apparently soothed by his voice. She still hadn’t said anything, and Lance had started to wonder whether she could speak at all. She clearly understood Lance. She nodded or shook her head when asked a yes or no question, so she wasn’t deaf, and they did speak the same language, but she never actually answered him verbally.
All the same, she seemed very content to be in Lance’s arms, and Lance was happy to have someone around who actually listened to him, even if that someone was just a child.
“Hunk and Pidge are the brains of the group,” said Lance, a wistful smile on his face. “They’re way too smart for me. Ninety-nine percent of what they say goes right over my head, but Sam and Matt, Pidge’s dad and brother, can step in mid-conversation and figure out exactly what they’re talking about in, like, two seconds. I wouldn’t be able to figure anything out if I had two days .” He laughed brightly. “And Keith—”
Lance’s words died in his throat.
The girl in his arms must have sensed the emotion that hit him, because her smile disappeared in a flash.
“Sorry,” said Lance, smiling in her place and hoping it would be enough for both of them. “It’s just… He left the group a while back and we barely see him anymore. I mean, we see Pidge’s brother more than we see him, and he’s never even been an official part of the group. And it's just…” He lowered his voice and whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t ever tell him I told you this, because that jerk would never let me live it down, but I actually really, really miss him.”
The girl blinked up at him, frowning curiously. Probably wondering how Lance could call Keith a jerk and admit to missing him in the same breath. Lance couldn’t blame her. Sometimes, he wondered that himself.
“He was the only one who ever really listened to me, you know?” Lance shrugged. “I mean, Coran listens to everyone when they’re sad, and Allura’s basically become my best friend ever since she started piloting Blue, and Hunk and Pidge are still really fun to hang out with, but Keith was the only one who ever, you know, actually took what I said into account when I had a plan, or when I pointed out that he was doing something wrong.” He sighed and adjusted his grip on the girl in his arms, making sure she wouldn’t slip. “I mean, Shiro used to, but it’s like it’s sort of balanced out since the whole Lion swap disaster. Allura respects me more, and Shiro respects me less.”
He lifted his head and looked away from the girl, directing his frustration toward the end of the hall instead of at her.
“Any time I even suggest that he might be making a mistake, he yells in my face! He usually apologizes later, but he still doesn’t listen to me! And it’s…” Lance sighed emphatically. “I know it’s not his fault. Something’s really wrong with him. He’s not the Shiro I knew. And I’m pretty sure even he knows that. But it’s not like we have a therapist at the castle, and the pods don’t work for mental health issues. I can’t blame him, I know something bad happened to him, but that doesn’t change the way he keeps throwing caution to the wind and sending us right into danger because he won’t listen. And I think… No, I know…”
Lance screwed his eyes shut.
“I just know...if Keith was here, he’d know what to do. But he left. Shiro won’t even listen to Allura anymore, but I know he’d listen to Keith if he was here.”
Lance’s shoulders sagged, and he opened his eyes to stare past the girl in his arms, at the tile floor beneath them.
“You know, before he left, I… I told Keith I was thinking about leaving Voltron.” He sighed. “He told me not to, but I keep wondering, you know, maybe if I did, he’d still be here. And he’d know what to do about Shiro, and everyone would listen to him, and everything would just go so much smoother, and I just… Sometimes, I—” Lance let out a sharp, stressed, hissing breath through his teeth.
“...Sometimes, I think the universe would be a lot better off without Lance McClain.”
The second those words fell from his lips, the very point on the tile floor he’d been staring at began to glow a bright, brilliant light, just like the fountain where he’d found the girl in his arms.
That perfectly circular spot grew and spread, reaching past Lance’s feet until it surrounded him. It shined like a spotlight from beneath him, bathing him in that otherworldly, blinding glow. A gentle breeze from nowhere kicked up, tugging at the cape on Lance’s armor and the hair that framed his face.
Eyes wide, lips parted in shock, Lance looked at the Covewish girl’s face.
Her eyes, like the floor Lance stood on, glowed a bright, brilliant, blinding white.
They were hypnotic. Magnetic. Lance couldn’t look away.
The white light crept into the corners of Lance’s vision, gradually shrinking his range of sight until everything—the stone floor, the murals, the girl in Lance’s arms—all disappeared, and there was nothing left but bright, blinding light.