Chapter 1: Memories of a Girl I Haven't Met Yet
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Chapter Text
“Hey, Keith, come on.”
A four-year-old Keith blinked bleary eyes open to find his mom shaking him awake, excitement clear on her face. “Come on, Keithva, I wanna show you something.” She picked him up from his spot squished between her and his dad on the bed; he snuggled against her chest and yawned.
They walked out of the tiny shack into the cool desert night. His mom shifted him around and pointed up at the sky. “Look. It’s the first clear night of the wet season.”
Keith gazed up, awestruck. The sky was bright, not with lightning or the sun, but with stars. The band of the galaxy was visible, a bright, almost cloudy streak through the middle of the sky. Stars burst out from it like sugar on cloth, a supernova of space between.
The two of them stood, staring up at the beauty of the universe until they were startled by someone dropping a blanket around them. Keith blinked down at it, then at the man who was tucking it around them. “You were shivering,” he chuckled, ruffling black and pink hair.
“Was not.”
“Yeah, you were. Even your mom was shivering. Tank tops will not keep you warm during the desert night, dear. Earth isn’t Daibazaal.”
His mom humphed at his dad but leaned against him all the same. He wrapped his arms around her, rested his chin on her shoulder, and smiled down at his kid. “Enjoying the stars?”
Keith gave him a grin. “Mhm!”
“Do you remember all the constellations we saw in the book? Maybe we can find them tonight. Look, there’s Canis Major and Minor, and there’s Gemini, and right next to it Orion--”
“What’s that?” Keith asked, pointing at a set of stars so close together they almost looked like one.
“The Pleiades,” his dad said at the same time his mom said “Kunalsaetok Zad.”
They blinked at each other. “The what?” his dad asked. Keith turned to look at her, a question in the tilt of his head.
“The Five Siblings. They’re said to grant wishes.”
“Wishes?”
“Do you want to hear the whole story of the Five?”
Keith nodded rapidly. His mom laughed and hiked him up on her side slightly. She stared up at the stars for a moment, before beginning:
“After the One and the Other (who are those?) (really old gods who destroyed each other to create the universe) were refracted and the Five created the universe and the Houses, there was peace. However, remnants of the Other still existed in our universe. The Five knew this and promised that if the Other began to threaten their people again, if their people wished upon their vessels in the sky, they would stop them.
“The Dubaznai (what’s a Doo-ba-neye?) (think of a really scary evil dinosaur) were ferocious in those days, and had trapped many Galra within their tunnels. Many brave warriors had tried and failed to save them, rejoining the stars in their attempts. One day, a person called Zaiduke wished upon the vessels of the Five to be granted the power to save their family. But therein lay a problem. The Five knew that the Dubaznai could not be defeated by anything less than godly power. Begrudgingly, they granted Zaiduke the power to defeat the Dubaznai. The power came at a terrible price, though. With their assurances that they could handle it, the Five gave Zaiduke a piece of the Other. (why not a piece of themselves?) (because they didn’t know how to make themselves into pieces like the Other had, and they knew where a piece of the Other was) Zaiduke drove the Dubaznai back, saving the Galra from extinction. And at the same time, the Other preyed on Zaiduke’s fear and pain and corrupted them, twisting their goals towards the Other’s own desires.
“Zaiduke gathered four great warriors under their command, one from each of the other Houses that survived the Dubaznai's onslaught: Kuron, Rorvai, Demsol, and Saasthror. They spread chaos between the Houses, turning sibling against sibling, parent against child, House against House, and used it to create a tyrannical Kingdom, with Zaiduke at the head. Their army struck the Five from the stars and began to slaughter the rest of the Galra, using them to feed Zaiduke's power. They also dug deep into the Firedarkener's body and stole their power for their own. (remember who that is?) (Marmora! Like you!)
“The Five, desperate for help, reached for five warriors from the Houses. They answered, providing their own bodies as vessels for the Five. They became the Warriors of the Stars. Together, they and the Five drove Zaiduke’s Kingdom back, retaking the power Zaiduke had used to tear them from the stars and using it to push themselves back up. They took Zaiduke and their warriors to the stars so they could do no more harm. But Zaiduke saw this as a challenge and engaged in battle with the Five. They fought for five winds until, exhausted, the Five sacrificed themselves to destroy Zaiduke. (how long is five winds?) (that’s a Dad question) (uhhhh. Let’s go with five days) (then why did you say winds?) (because sometimes people use different words for time in different languages, and I used the direct translation by accident) (the what) (how about Sasa just moves on) (right)
“The vessels of the Five, the Warriors, were scattered between the stars, while the Five themselves rejoined the quintessence flow through the universe. As a last act, they created the kunmarthinazik, the quintessence nurseries where all quintessence goes when people are reborn. Those five stars we call the Kunalsaetok Zad. And from them rose five Spirits: Marzaal, Markol, Marduzi, Marzagalu, and Mardai. They held the power of the Five in part but refused to search out the Warriors and become whole once again. Instead, they gave part of their power to mortal beings, a new generation of Warriors. Their quintessence would constantly cycle back through the universe, ensuring they could never become fully corrupted as Zaiduke had. (How can they grant wishes if they’re stars?) (I’m not finished, kitokva) (oh)
“But, it is said that the original generation of Warriors found their way through the stars to the Kunalsaetok Zad and made their home there, and they still hold the power of the Five. And it is said that if one wishes on them, especially if one is a Warrior of the Stars, they will grant that wish.”
A nine-year-old Keith sunk his teeth into his arm to prevent his cries from escaping. Stupid, he thought, stupid stupid stupid. It had been a stupid stupid stupid idea to run all the way out here, to the cliff where he could just barely see the shack, but he just needed to get away.
Away from the woman who kept insisting he wasn’t Keith, and she couldn’t change that. She this and she that and “little miss had better stop this fairy tale at once.”
He hated her. He wanted his mom back.
Keith took a deep breath. Shaking, he released his arm from his mouth and wiped the tear tracks he knew were on his cheeks despite how tight his eyes were closed away. He pointedly didn’t look down at his arm. He finally opened his eyes and looked up at familiar stars. Orion chased the Alsaetok Zad across the plains of the Sonoran Desert.
One of Keith’s only memories of his parents was being wrapped up in a blanket and their arms, his mom telling him the story of the Kunalsaetok Zad. The Five Siblings, came a memory of his mother’s voice, they’re said to grant wishes.
He wasn’t a Paladin, but maybe they’d hear his hope, grant his dream.
The whirr of a hoverbike broke Keith out of his thoughts. In the distance behind where he was sitting on the side of the cliff a red hoverbike stopped. He couldn’t make out more than a grey figure sitting on it in the dim light of the stars.
The figure hesitated a moment but got off the bike. “Hey.”
Keith didn’t respond, eyeing the figure warily. As they got closer, they were revealed to be a young Japanese teen. He had a look on his face that Keith had never seen before. He opened his mouth, fished for a moment, then said “How did you make it out here?”
Keith shrugged noncommittally and looked away. The other’s gaze was so intense he could barely stand it.
The guy pursed his lips. “How about we find you a bandaid for your arm? You might need a hospital if you got bit by something with fangs, and it sure looks like it.”
Keith finally glanced down at his arm and winced at the rivulets of blood trailing down from the bite mark. “Not fangs.”
The other raised an eyebrow. “Oookay. Then what did you get bit by?”
“Myself.”
The guy seemed at a loss for words. Keith fully expected him to turn around, leave, and pretend he’d never found him there, but instead, he swung his legs over the cliff next to Keith’s. “Alright. What do you need?”
Keith blinked at him. “What?”
“Look, you’re sitting on a cliff in the middle of nowhere, and if I’m not mistaken you’re quite a few years younger than me, and I’m fifteen. Obviously , something is wrong, and you’re under no obligation to speak to me at all, but, if I am capable of helping you I will. So what do you need?”
Violet eyes stared into grey for a long moment. No one had ever, in his memory, asked him that question. “I… don’t know.”
“Do you want to come ride on my hoverbike back to civilization while you figure it out?”
“...sure.”
The guy gave him a soft smile. “Cool. I’m Shiro, by the way.”
“Keith.”
A twelve-year-old Keith sat on the roof of the Shirogane house, arms locked around his knees as he stared up at the stars. The Garrison lighting obscured some of the beauty of the sky, but the band of the Milky Way was still visible, cutting the sky in two. Above him, Orion chased the Kunalsaetok Zad across the sky.
Shiro would have called them the Pleiades, but he had a strange attachment to the name. It felt like, if he were to call them by the name everyone else called them, he’d lose the last connection he had to his parents. He couldn’t lose it. He tried to picture them, tried to remember their faces. His dad was getting harder and harder to remember, seven year old sense impressions becoming lost to the depths of an adolescent mind. He’d already lost his mother. Or, maybe, he’d never been able to. He had half-remembered memories of her telling him stories about the stars, but they were never stories that anyone else had heard. He remembered blue and purple, but that was it.
Keith gazed up at the Kunalsaetok Zad, remembering times he’d been in a similar position and ignoring the clunk of Shiro’s boots behind him. The story was just that, a story, but he wished (ha) that the stars would listen to his wish from all those years ago.
A nineteen-year-old Keith sits at the controls of one of the Blade’s many infiltration ships. T minus five dobashes before they leave for the Baaria Shipyards. All the preflight checks have turned out okay, so he has nothing to do but get lost in his thoughts. Before coming down here, he’d joined Kolivan on the usual bimonthly Roundtable call with the Knights (guh, really, Pidge?). Someone had mentioned prisoner extractions and the long-running search for Commander Holt; for probably that reason, Keith’s mind is wandering down a familiar path.
Is his mom up here? He's unable to stop thinking about it. Ever since Kolivan told him about his heritage, the possibility has been floating in the back of his mind.
But even if he finds her, will she want him? He’s changed so much from the last time he remembers seeing her. He’s been through fourteen years of trauma and loss and love and growing and transition. Would they even recognize each other? Does she wonder where he is? She probably thinks he's still safe on Earth.
(Like he’d ever been safe on Earth.)
He can't see the Kunalsaetok Zad from here, Morakiluide’s hangar pointing at one of the black holes, but he knows they were out there. Maybe, if all of this is possible, they aren’t as much of a myth as he’d thought they were. The rational, realistic part of him scoffs at the thought, but the little kid who just wants to find his mother again clings to it.
Please, just let me find her.
In this lonely place
Bathed in silence
And thoughts of you
I can't see your face
But I'm trying
To envision you
So are you really out there?
Are you awake with memories
Of a boy you haven't met yet
Who's wished upon the Pleiades?
Chapter 2: Hear Me Whispering
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
this is.... a tad bit of a jumpy, rambling mess. I still have covid so we shall blame it on that.
The working title for this chapter was 'in which Kolivan is Obi-Wan' which really sets the stage for this as 'whatever amused me and got Kolivan where he needed to go'
Chapter Text
(“What the kap, Kolivan.”
“Kozur--”
“You are a stubborn. Asshole.”
“Do you even know what that word means?”
“Considering she just shouted it at you? Close enough. What happened to listening to her?”
“She’s trying to undo thousands of years.”
“And you don’t think she of all people knows what would work?”
“Our way of thought has been what kept us alive. I will not sully the Fifth General’s name and send us crashing into despair now.”
“And maybe she’s just trying to do the same thing!”)
Kolivan looks out at the ice around him and wonders why he decided taking on this mission himself was a good idea. He’s certainly capable of piloting, but he’s nothing compared to other members of the Blade. At least the flying part of this is almost over. Right now he is merely a single soldier sitting bored in his starfighter, waiting for the commander in charge of this base to admit his squadron in for resupply.
Stars, he hates flying. He should’ve just waited a movement and sent Keith.
No, that would have ended up a disaster when they realized what they were in the middle of the mission. It’s better this way, and there’s no one else he would trust with getting her out of here in one piece.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish it was Keith stuck in this flight suit.
The flight deck commander and the captain of the squadron finally seem to work out whatever they were arguing about and they get waved in. Kolivan doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to get out of a fighter. The twelve of them settle their ships in the hangar and clamber out on waiting ladders. The captain stalks over towards him; Kolivan sighs. This is going to be just great.
“Lieutenant!”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Your flying was sloppy. You damn near clipped my wing off.”
Kolivan winces under his helmet. Yet another reason he’d rather not be piloting: this planet is covered in ice cliffs, which makes flying… visually difficult. At least he won’t be the one flying out of here, if everything goes according to plan. “Apologies, Sir,” he murmurs. Just get through this conversation, and he can do what he came here to do. “I will endeavor to do better.”
The captain sneers at him. “Keep that groveling up or you’ll end up back shining detention centers. Get out of here.”
Hurriedly, Kolivan bows and scampers off. Only when he gets out of sight does he allow himself a breath of relief. He’s in. Now he just has to find her. Simple enough, considering she’s in charge of this base.
His first stop is the pilot’s quarters just for his cover’s sake. The squadron is theoretically only going to be here for a quintant while their ships have minor repairs done and are refueled, but that still warrants them a barracks. Kolivan has no intention of stepping back in here. He sets what little gear he brought to keep up his cover on his bunk, then heads for the mess.
Sue him, he’s hungry. Plus it’s shift change, so maybe she’ll be there.
The mess is overrun. Expected, it is shift change, but Kolivan is unused to so many people he hasn’t personally overseen being around him. It’s been a while since he was on a full-blown infiltration mission himself. He finds a free seat by the wall and settles in to eat and observe. Most of the chatter around him is what he’s used to finding in a military mess. Bragging about battles that never existed, anxieties about the war, arguing over who could beat Voltron… ludicrous.
“Nah, I bet my squadron could outfly them any day,” one of the participants is bragging.
“You’ve never even seen a Spirit,” another argues, “those things are huge. Can bite our ships in half.
The first pilot scoffs. “Nah they can’t.”
“Have you seen the recordings from when they broke the Naxzela Line? No wonder it took Her Highness to do anything to them.”
“Like the Witch is capable of anything.”
“Don’t say that,” the companion hisses, slapping a hand over their mouth and looking around. Their eyes catch on Kolivan. He sighs. “Hey! Lieutenant! You ever seen a Spirit?”
Well. He’s not even lying on this part. “Yes.”
The companions’ eyes widen. “You have?”
“Snapped my wingmate’s ship clean in half. I was lucky to get out of there.” Also technically not a lie, although it had been a sim on Morakiluide. He’d been trying to get his people used to flying with the Lions when they needed to, except Voltron had been busy, so they’d done their best to pull from battle records and simply fly against those to get a feel for it. Then Keith had started leaning against the back wall, and Vanab had somehow convinced him to try and pilot one of the ‘Lions’. Keith had taken one look at the sim controls and said it’d be nothing like flying an actual Lion. Vanab had then posed it as a challenge.
He’d still flown circles around them. Yet another example of why he leaves the piloting to Keith.
“Whoa…” one of the pilots says. “You must be a pretty amazing pilot to have survived.”
Kolivan snorts. “Nope. Just a lucky one.” He stands, nods to the two, and moves across the mess to put his empty tray back. On his way he looks around for the orange accents of a colonel’s armor, but finds nothing. She isn’t here then. Perhaps her office, although that will require him finding it. His eyes do catch on what looks like a second’s armor. Smoothly he course-corrects to walk right behind them.
“…what else the Witch has him doing out there. Colonel said she’d take over that part of the request.”
“What about sending the new squadron after her?”
“Nah, they’re just here for refuel; they’re heading back to Baaria when they’re done…”
Kolivan frowns. He’d known from her reports that Warlord Ranveig was doing something for the Witch on a scientific base deeper in the cluster, but this sounded like something new. And for the Colonel to take something over personally, it was either important… or of use to the Blade. Interesting.
It’s quick enough work to find an unoccupied computer terminal, and quicker work to log in. He doesn’t bother using his command code, simply opening what all is publicly accessible and setting to work. This turns out to be a mistake. Kolivan frowns down at the classified label over her office’s location. What does that mean? So he logs out, takes a lap around the base just to offset anything watching the logs, and logs back in using his command code.
Classified continues to blink at him.
His command code is one of the highest level ones Kozur was able to put in Imperial systems; the only equivalents within the Blade are the other Generals (and Keith, but it was given to him as their Voltron liaison, and besides he might as well count). Kolivan knows of no one else on this base that would be able to lock his code out, which leaves him with only one possibility.
She did it.
“By the Stars,” he whispers, “what are you doing?” Is this just to spite him? Or is there something else hidden? Surely she would not be so petty. Well, okay. There are things he can do from here, tricks he’s picked up from running a spy organization for so long, Glancing around to make sure there is not a line forming, Kolivan grabs a nearby chair. Getting into the changelogs is more annoying than anything, and gives him very little to work with other than confirmation that the classified label was added by her command code. Interestingly, though, it’s also applied to several other recent documents, including something that might be a set of orders that only came through in the past few quintants. They are, of course, still inaccessible, but he did not become the Fourth General of the Blade of Marmora by easily giving up. The answers are in the spaces between.
They are not good answers.
In approximately the same timeframe as those mysterious orders and the classified labels, there is the arrival of a ship: a Divik. A Divik is not normally cause for concern; this one, however, he has heard passing mention of. The Uduke is not simply a cruiser in the Empire’s service.
It is the Witch’s.
Panic begins to set in; Kolivan forces himself to squash it down and take a deep breath. She can take care of herself. Stars, he’s seen her stab a Druid without looking. And worst comes to worst… she will protect Keith with her life. If giving it up hides Earth’s location, she will do so gladly. Plus, there is no evidence that she left on the ship, forced or otherwise. He makes himself take another breath. The outbound logs, the supply listings, he has more to search through.
There is another ship that leaves; this one does not set something worried in his throat, although it is another Divik. The supply listings coincide with it leaving for several weeks. A flight plan turns up that includes several bases within Fonlanin he knows of and at least two he doesn’t. That is an interesting point. Whatsmore, one of them is Ranveig’s scientific base. The base that no one has seen the inside of for decaphoebs. If she is on that ship… Huh, her second. That’s an idea. Perhaps he is stupid enough to have kept something where Kolivan can access it.
Her second apparently doesn’t know that higher command codes can easily access personal files, even encoded ones. The encoding itself is flimsy; Kozur could probably break it in xer sleep, and it takes Kolivan no more than a few minutes. When he’s done, he’s left with a treasure trove. The first interesting thing is that apparently the Druid ship stopped by to deliver news that they weren't to expect Ranveig back. Ever. Whoever was in charge then proceeded to brevit-promote the current base commander to regional commander and bully her second into acting as an information source for any attempted sedition.
If only the second knew.
The important bit, though, is that the Druid then sent the new regional commander off on an inspection tour. Which means classified means shipboard and on the move and somewhere along the not-so-classified route he dug out. Given the timing, she’s nowhere near this base, and won’t be for at least a movement. And Kolivan’s cover only lasts for one more quintant. He groans and leans back in his chair.
He should’ve known this wasn’t going to be easy.
So. How does he get her back?
(“Well?”
“Well what?”
“You know you have to bring her back now. Not just because of him, either. I heard what you said to him while you were talking about Lotor.”
“Kozur…”
“You know I’m right, Kolivan.”
“...You are.”
“So. How are you going to get her back?”
“I need a cover to get into Van Six.”
“You?”
“It’s either me or Keith, and I’d rather not send Keith.”
“It might take a few phoebs; Fonlanin’s turned into a Druid hotspot.”
“You made the point yourself.”
“I did. As long as you promise to actually communicate without being a stubborn asshole.”
“I still don’t think you know what that means.”
“Of course I do. Do you even know how many languages Keith can swear in?”)
How he gets her back is like this:
Stupidly.
“Come on,” Kolivan mumbles under his breath. Making the connection is always the tricky part of trying to piggyback messages. His emergency comm has the hardware for it, but it’s not like he can perform surgery on his own ear to get the little biochip out and use it. Its companion in his throat is in an even worse position for that. He’s stuck with software for the moment, but it will serve his purposes. He glances at another display. If he’s right, he’s got two dobashes to finish this up before the quintantly report is sent out to the Colonel.
“There.” A light starts blinking on the console and Kolivan flips the display from security system to comms. There it is, full access to the comms system. A few taps has two messages uploaded to the system, one an addition to the quintantly report and the other a simple message that only she will understand. Then, right on cue, the quintantly report shoots out to her flagship, the two messages hanging on for dear life. He breathes a sigh of relief--
“Well well well, what have we here?”
--and freezes. Behind him, a blaster held to the back of his chair and visible in the reflection on the displays, stands the second. “When the Druid warned me about possible sedition, I didn’t think she was serious.” He makes a clicking noise and shakes his head. “What shall we do with you?”
“Sedition, Sir?”
“Well I don’t think the comms consoles are supposed to be accessible from here, do you?”
“It was like that when I got here.”
The second snorts. “Nice try. Come on, up. No funny business.” Kolivan stands, slowly, hands above his head. The second smiles in the reflection.
Kolivan kicks the chair backwards. The second stumbles, hissing and almost grabbing for his shin before his training kicks back in and he points the blaster at Kolivan’s head. Kolivan is already swinging his blade at it, the shot going wide into the consoles. The second growls, letting momentum throw his blaster out of his hands and turning it into a wide punch that Kolivan easily sees coming. He ducks, shifts his grip, and slams the pommel of his sword into the second’s stomach. He coughs and doubles over, leaving Kolivan a moment to kick him and make for the door. Hopefully the noise level is okay.
The door bursts open before he gets to it, five guards pointing blasters at him.
Perfect.
The second somehow manages to laugh. “Got you now, traitor. Sleepy time.”
A blast that Kolivan just barely dodges skims along his side before something slams directly into his temple and he falls to the ground unconscious.
No, really, perfect.
It’s a valid plan, and he will maintain that until the day he dies, no matter what she may say (and he knows from the moment he puts the plan into motion that she will never let him live it down).
It’s just the plan entirely and completely consists of deliberately blowing his cover.
On a ship stuck in hyperspace between stars in the Fonlanin Cluster, two messages blink on the Colonel’s comms. One is a report of a captured prisoner, caught hacking into the security systems and attempting to send messages. The other, on her personal emergency comm, says all according to plan in galran-lettered English.
“Sir,” the ship commander’s voice says in her ear, “I think you’re going to want to make a detour back to Van Six.”
She sighs. “Very well. Captain, get us back ASAP.”
Kolivan is considering how much longer he should let himself be stuck in this cell before enacting his backup plan when the door opens. The second stands there, arms crossed. “You’re lucky, traitor boy.”
Traitor boy? “Oh?”
“The Colonel would like to deal with you. Personally. I’d just as soon throw you out an airlock and let the gunners have a little target practice.”
“Small mercies.”
He barks a laugh. “Oh, not with her. I hear traitors get what traitors deserve from her. Up, or I’ll shoot you again.”
Kolivan decides that he would like to not earn another stinging burn and gets up. He lets himself be led through the prison to an interrogation room and thrown into the seat. The second kicks him for good measure and sneers down his nose. “Wait here and rot.” Kolivan doesn’t deign to give him the satisfaction of a response, mostly because the door opens behind him.
A Galra wearing the orange stripes of a Colonel strides in, arms crossed behind her back. She stands before the table for a moment, staring them both down. The second belatedly bows and murmurs a sir. Her helmeted gaze turns towards him for a long moment. “Leave us.” The second scurries out; Kolivan turns his attention to the Colonel.
She sighs, sits down, takes her helmet off, and for the first time in almost five decaphobes Kolivan is face to face with a very pissed off Krolia, Kisekmet Marmorait.
At least Keith and the Whispers are most likely having a better day than him.
“Well,” Lotor drawls, “this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”
Keith glares at him. “Shut up.”
Chapter 3: Hunter Orion, Are You Listening?
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
I meant to post this yesterday, but then my friend was watching neon genesis evangelion and I was like giant robot show owo and I did not move from the couch for four hours. working title for this chapter was 'so that's where Keith gets it from'
Chapter Text
“I’m just saying, you’ve had better ideas.”
Keith would pinch the bridge of his nose if he weren’t still wearing his mask. “Just shut up, Lotor, let me think.”
Lotor gestures at the slowly moving stars outside the tiny viewport of the airlock they’re currently standing in. “I’m not sure I should let you, given your track record.”
“Well how was I supposed to know it was going to launch?” he hisses.
“By waiting until Raykob got the outbound itinerary like we were supposed to.”
“No one’s ever been on one of these, Lotor, it was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up.”
“I will grant you the point. However, you also snuck off.”
“Zethrid can handle lookout for the others. Besides, I knew you would follow me.”
Lotor stares at him. “What.”
Keith’s smirk is audible in his voice. “Commander Keith Shirogane, sneaking out of a mission objective? That’s too tempting to pass on.”
“You do that all the damn time.”
“How do you think I knew you’d follow me?” Lotor growls at him, low and predatory in his throat; Keith turns to the airlock controls. “I assume Raykob will call Morakiluide as soon as she or the others notice we’re gone. So, we need to find a spot to set these up,” he taps the pocket full of tracking beacons they were supposed to put on ships suspected of hauling the strange quintessence shipments, “so they can find us.”
“That’s your bright idea? Wander around this ship and wait for Voltron to come crash the party?”
The door slides open; Keith looks back at him. “If you have better ideas I’m open to them.”
Lotor sighs. “Fine. Let’s go wander the Druid ship.”
“What the fuck, Kolivan?”
Kolivan is well aware that her swearing at him in English is not a good start to this, because it means she’s angry enough that she’d rather use words he doesn’t know (and he only knows now because of Keith) just to piss him off more. But right now the only thing he can respond is “What the quiznak yourself, Krolia? I told you I was coming.”
“I couldn’t exactly reschedule an inspection tour ordered by the Witch.”
“You could have warned me.”
“With what time? And then you went and blew your cover?”
“I had to get you back before my squadron left the base. Getting you back to deal with a traitor seemed the easiest way, and if I slipped away to hide myself here it was going to do the exact same thing.”
“Yeah, the easiest way to get yourself killed, or a Druid brought down on both our heads!”
“Kr--”
“I am not following you around to clean up your messes, Kolivan.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to.”
“And you were expecting to clean up a blown cover from a cell?”
“I could’ve gotten out of here at any time.”
Krolia levels a finger at him. “Perhaps, but you couldn’t have wiped all evidence of the communications from Imperial systems from here. You’re lucky I caught it.”
He has to force himself to take a deep breath. This is not how he wanted their reunion to go. He’s trying to admit to being a stubborn asshole and show he’s trying to fix it, not fall back into old habits. “Fine. I admit this may not have been the most well thought out plan.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “You thought it out at all?”
“Perhaps instead of arguing we could get on our way out of here? My intention was to get you back to base as soon as possible.”
“Why, exactly?”
Well if that isn’t a loaded question. “Reasons perhaps better discussed not in an Imperial interrogation room?”
Krolia studies him for a moment, face unreadable and body language rigid Imperial command. “Fine. How much did you pull already?”
“Only a little; I was trying to send you a message, not give away our actual capabilities.”
“Okay.” She makes a gesture and the door behind her opens; one of the guards walks through. “Commander, take the traitor back to his cell. He is being… uncooperative.”
The second nods, takes two steps around the table towards Kolivan, and finds himself unconscious on the floor courtesy of Krolia’s right fist. She kneels, unlocks the binders around Kolivan’s wrists, then tosses him the blaster. Kolivan moves to secure the new prisoner, but Krolia shakes her head. “We’re destroying this place anyway; don’t bother.”
“We’re what?”
“If a highly placed operative is going to disappear without it drawing the Druids’ attention, there has to be a reason to not find the body.”
“He could get out and raise the alarm.”
“All the better, right?”
Kolivan growls. “He’ll give us away.”
“I’m trying to avoid exactly what you suggested five decaphoebs ago.”
“Operational security--”
She whirls, glaring at him with a face that makes him take a step back. “I’m not having this argument with you again, Kolivan. If you’re pulling me out just to argue you can leave.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Not very hard.”
“I’m pulling you out because there’s something you need to see.”
“I already know Voltron is back, Kolivan.”
“Beyond that.”
Krolia narrows her eyes at him. “What.”
“Krolia, I promise I will explain everything when we’re out of here. I swear on Marzet honor, I will, but this is not the place.”
“Fine.” She whirls, stalking out the door. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“We’re going to stop by the nearest computer, shove everything onto one of the chips I know you’re carrying, then we’re going to the engines.”
Kolivan blinks at her. “This place has engines?”
She smirks. “Ranveig didn’t know this place as well as he thought he did.”
Kolivan hurries to follow as Krolia strides into the deeper corridors of the Van Six base like she owns the place. Which, well, she is technically the sector commander right now, but this is something else. These corridors are less frequented, and have fewer markings to match; Kolivan is instantly lost, but Krolia keeps going, taking a few turns he has no idea where they lead. She nods to a few crewers they pass and receives nods in return. Kolivan put his helmet back on when they grabbed the few things he needs to finish the mission from the prison storage room, so thankfully he doesn't get recognized.
Eventually, she stops in front of a nondescript blank purple wall. Kolivan stares at her, then at it. “Krolia?”
She looks over at him. “I went digging in the records when I first got assigned here. Stations of this size are usually built on-site, since it’s more cost-effective, and you can find the necessary materials in asteroid belts or from dead planets. Van never had an asteroid belt, and this planet certainly didn’t seem to have enough metals to justify building something here. It turns out that Van Six and probably several other sector bases are… more mobile than they look.”
“Define mobile.”
Krolia reaches out and presses a hand to a barely-visible indent in the wall. A low grinding sound rumbles through their feet and a slit opens in the wall, just large enough for an average Galra to walk through. “I mean, that Van Six isn’t a moon. Or, at least, not a natural one.” She beckons him to follow her; he does in a daze. The door closes behind them, trapping them in deep black for a moment before the lights flick on around them. The corridor Krolia is already walking down opens up into a vast chamber full of equipment he recognizes enough to name:
A hyperdrive.
“By the stars.”
“It makes sense in hindsight,” she muses, still walking towards something Kolivan can’t spare the brain power to figure out. “Sector bases are some of the most valuable transfer points in the Empire. If they’re under attack, especially if they’re currently hosting something important, they need to be able to move. The thing is, all the evidence I found for this one was purely circumstantial until I went looking for that door. Secrecy I can understand, but I can’t understand not using this. One of the sector bases along the Naxzela Line probably had a similar system, although I didn’t realize that until recently. Why wasn’t it used when the Coalition attacked? And then I came wandering down here again after I was officially put in charge of the sector.”
“And?”
“And I can tell you that whatever else this is, it’s not on the briefing for a new sector commander because you have to have a Paladin-capable quintessence to activate it.”
Kolivan looks around, committing every detail to memory and wishing Vanab was here. The hyperdrive they’re standing in is far bigger than any other he’s seen, even what little they’ve been able to figure out about the one on the Moramíat. “You said one of the bases on the Naxzela Line has this?”
“Might. There was no evidence for the existence of this one, so any others are only theoretical from my own observations. I’ll give Vanab the coordinates once we’re back.” She finds whatever she was looking for and stops, tapping at a console. “Good, that Druid didn’t lock me out.”
“What exactly are you doing?”
She looks up and grins at him. “Blowing shit up.”
Stars, he knows where Keith gets it from. “What happened to warning them?”
Krolia points at his comm. “If I’m right, the dear commander has already raised the alarm about an escaped prisoner and a possible traitor. Warning about the explosion is your job. Give them the recognition code apsir-banrai. It’ll be one use only, once that Druid figures it out, but it’ll work.”
Kolivan sighs, but opens his comm and links it to the base intercom. “Attention all personnel; insurgents detected on base, active explosives detected on base. Start emergency evacuation, authorization apsir-banrai. Repeat: start emergency evacuation.” A whining noise emanates from somewhere below them. Kolivan edges away from the edge of the shaft. “Krolia…”
“It’s just the hyperdrive starting up.”
“Wait, Krolia--”
“The mass generator needs to be active for this to work.”
A loud crash sounds from the corridor; Kolivan whirls. “Krolia!”
“Get me three dobashes.”
Blaster fire shoots down the corridor; Kolivan dives for the edge of the entrance and pulls out his own to return it. A quick peek reveals the second standing at the still-open door, anger visible in his stance and confusion on the three security officers behind him. “Traitor!” Kolivan flinches at the spat word and spares a glance back at Krolia; she doesn’t even react. “Get out here!”
“Kap off!” Kolivan shouts down the corridor, following it up with a few well-aimed shots. One of the security guards falls dead. The rest spot him and concentrate their fire, forcing him to duck back behind cover. “Krolia!”
“Almost!”
The second stalks forward; Kolivan dives to the other side of the corridor, firing on his way. Shots track him. One grazes his leg, but his armor is enough to catch it. He huddles there, firing potshots blindly and listening to the three enemies stalk forward until he sees Krolia move away from the console. She nods at him and pulls her blaster from the holster on her thigh. Kolivan takes his cue from dozens of battles fought next to each other and eases out of cover just enough he can provide covering fire. The attention on him redoubles, which was, of course, exactly what he was aiming for. Six shots from the other side of the corridor drop the security guards to the deck and leave the second gurgling. All falls silent.
Kolivan stands. “Nice shots.”
“I’ve done better. We’ve got ten dobashes to get to hyperspace.”
“Let’s go then.”
Acxa sighs and looks over at Bersaan. “Weren’t we on comm silence?”
Bersaan frowns down at the incessant beeping on her own comm. “I thought so.”
Mosov frowns at both of them. “Then it is an emergency. Are you not going to answer?”
Bersaan taps hers open. “Everything good, Team Alpha?”
“Please tell me the Commander wandered over there.”
The three of them and Narti look around the server room they’re hiding in. “No, why?”
Raykob groans. “Wonderful. Just great. Lovely.”
“Raykob, what’s happening?”
“What’s happening is that I’m going to have to call Morakiluide and tell the Generals that the Commander is a kaping idiot.”
“Krolia--stars, why do I bother,” Kolivan groans, and continues running. Ahead of him, Krolia drops another two security officers trying to shoot at them and skids under a volley. She comes up swinging, sweeping the legs out from under another and slamming him into the floor before flipping herself around and smacking him in the face with the butt of her rifle. Around them is utter chaos, people attempting to follow the evacuation directive while the utterly confused security corps attempts to figure out whether Krolia or her second is the actual traitor to the Empire. They’ve only been attacked by a few, and Krolia has made short work of them before Kolivan could even fire a shot.
Sometimes he forgets what a Paladin is capable of even without a Lion, and Krolia is far more than that.
The timer on his comm beeps at him. “Three dobashes.”
“We’re almost to the hangar,” she answers. She’s barely breathing hard despite the workout. “What ship did you take?”
“A Zraizrüpsae.”
Krolia sounds like she’s making a face under her helmet while still running. “Why did you take a one-man on an extraction mission?”
“The idea was you take another.”
“Not going to work. There should be a Nai still in the hangar I used to come down.”
This time Kolivan makes a face. “I don’t see why a fighter/assault shuttle is any better than two Zraizrüpsae.”
“Do you want to fly?” His silence speaks volumes. Krolia shakes her head. “Figured. Follow me.”
They burst into the hangar just as his timer beeps two dobashes. There is indeed still a Nai on the deck that opens as Krolia waves a hand at it. Kolivan makes it to the ramp and has to dive under a sudden volley. He rolls to the side and reaches up to slap the ramp closed panel. “Krolia!” he shouts, feeling like that’s all he’s said since this mission started. She doesn’t answer, already swinging herself up to the cockpit. The familiar whine of repulsorlifts vibrates against the edge of his hearing. More shots bounce off the Nai’s armor. Kolivan scrambles for the gunner’s chair.
The landing gear retracts as he swivels the wing guns around and blasts at the security people aiming for the ship. They scatter for cover and Kolivan doesn’t bother with them further as the ship shifts to full engine power and blasts out of the hangar. Sheer acceleration pushes Kolivan back in his seat before the inertial dampers are fully active. “One dobash.” Krolia doesn’t take her eyes off the controls, keeping them on as straight a course as she can, aiming for the stars. The ice blinds Kolivan, but Krolia doesn’t even react, the ship like an extension of her body.
A beep echoes through the cockpit as another beep emanates from Kolivan’s wrist and behind them something implodes. Krolia reaches forward, and just as Van Six explodes in a shower of corrupted quintessence, they disappear in a prismatic burst into hyperspace.
Krolia leans back in the pilot chair and looks at him with a small grin. “Perfect timing.”
“Or reckless piloting.” Stars, he knows where Keith gets it from.
She rolls her eyes and reaches forward to tap the autopilot to alert them when they need to drop out of hyperspace. “Are you going to tell me why you pulled me out now?”
Kolivan shifts in place, looking away from her. Now that the moment has come, he has no idea where to start. Does he say ‘because your kid is up here’? ‘Because the humans convinced me you were right’? Even a simple apology? Is this even a conversation they should be having in a small transport where she can’t stalk away from him if she needs it? Should he even tell her Keith is here?
“Because I need your help,” he settles on.
She’s staring at him when he looks back, that gaze that seems to bore through your soul into your deepest desires and pull them screaming into the light. “With what?”
“Several things.”
“You’re deflecting.”
Before he can respond his emergency comm starts blinking. Guiltily grateful for the distraction, he taps in a one moment to the other side and quickly patches in the transport’s comm to the Coalition network, then routes his emergency comm through it. Kozur’s image pops up, harried looking, with a similar looking Vanab behind xem. “What’s wrong?”
“What, no ‘hi, Kozur and Vanab’?”
“You used the emergency comm for a reason.”
“Oh boy did we. But first, because this is kinda relevant, where are you?”
Kolivan looks over at Krolia. She leans into view. “Hyperspace between Van and Mineur, so still in Fonlanin.”
“Krolia!”
“Hi, Kozur, Vanab.”
Relief flits across both of their faces. Vanab leans over Kozur’s head. “Good to see you. We really need you back.”
“I dunno, I heard something about Voltron being back. Seemed like you’ve been doing just fine.”
“Speaking of… you know that mission the Whispers are on?”
Kolivan sighs. “What did he do.”
“Well… if I understood Acxa right, there just so happened to be a Druid-controlled ship docked at Baaria.”
He has to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. How can one kitok cause so much trouble? “He got on it?”
Kozur nods. “He got on it, and Lotor followed him. And it launched.” Now he physically can’t stop himself from burying his face in his hands. At least Kozur seems to sympathize. “The rest of the Whispers are trying to find a way aboard, but I don’t think they’re going to manage. Especially without those two. Apparently, they did manage to set up a very faint tracking signal, so we at least know where they are right now.”
“They won’t be able to. Call Voltron.”
“They’re busy. Hunk mentioned something about… dainosors?”
“Dinosaurs,” Krolia mutters, then waves him off when he glances over.
None of the Rebel cells would have anywhere near the firepower needed if things went to quiznak, nor the sneaking ability to actually get on the ship. The Whispers are closest, and as their most elite strike team should be able to handle it, but… But this is a Druid ship, and the only people capable of reliably surviving Druids, much less sensing them, are on the ship.
… except the person sitting next to him.
“Send me the coordinates.”
“Uh, what?”
“You called me for a reason, Kozur. You know as well as I that any team sent after them is going to need Krolia.”
Krolia blinks at him. “Am I missing something here?”
“You’re a former Paladin of Voltron, and one of the very few people alive with an advantage against a Druid. If we have any chance of getting them out, we need you.”
“What happened to ‘victory or death, might as well leave them behind’?”
“He did.”
Krolia stares at him for a long, long moment. “...Fine. Where are we going?”
A string of coordinates pops up in the navicomputer, accompanied by the faint signal of the tracking beacon. Kolivan nods acknowledgment. “We’re on the way.”
“You’d better succeed.”
“I’m well aware of what Voltron would do to me if I don’t.” Not to mention Krolia.
“Adtuitekun marzay.”
With that, the connection to Morakiluide switches off. Krolia leans forwards and checks they’re safe to drop out of hyperspace and adjust course. “You still owe me an explanation.”
“I’m getting the feeling this mission will explain a lot of it.”
“Keith--”
“You know we have to,” he answers Lotor’s exasperated attempt at convincing him this is a bad idea. It might be, in all honesty, but he’s also right: they have to.
“But it’s--”
“Lotor. You of all people know how valuable it could be.”
“I do. Marmora save us, I do. But this is a Druid ship, and I’m trying to make sure we don’t get killed or worse.”
“We’ll be fine, Lotor.”
“Keith, something has been nagging at me the entire time we’ve been on this ship. There’s something… powerful here.”
Keith raises an eyebrow. “Like a Druid?”
“No, not quite. It’s not strong enough to be fully sentient. But it is there.”
“All the more reason to open this up, right?”
“Keith--”
“We’re sitting in a server room.”
“Which just means whatever you do, they’ll know exactly where to find us. Maybe even whatever I’m sensing.”
“I have one of the highest level command codes in the Blade. They won’t.”
“Keith--”
“Look, we’re already in.”
Lotor sighs and steeples his hands in front of him like he’s praying. For patience or a savior, Keith doesn’t particularly care. Instead, he taps his fingers on the console. Lotor glares at the motion. “Just hurry.”
Keith throws a grin over his shoulder. “Easy. Look, we’ve got a map, some sort of inventory list--holy shit.”
Lotor peers over his shoulder. “What--oh holy shit.”
They stare at the list for a frozen moment.
“Okay,” Lotor manages, “you were right. We have to.”
Chapter 4: So Are You Really Out There?
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
okay look i can. explain.
I got stuck, as you do, and took like. a day break. except then I started watching Neon Genesis Evangelion because my roommate finally convinced me (and Everything is instrumentality, I Know now). And then we watched Code Geass because netflix kept throwing it at me. And I fell in love with ROLLERBLADING ROBOT TANKS EXCUSE ME??? and wrote 40k words of code geass fic (trans Lulu rights) before I got stuck again and ended up bouncing over to String Theory, writing two more chapters of that, and finally knocking this loose. And in all that job hunt finally ramped up so i am a little mentally exhausted. oh i also watched Gurren Lagann, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Kill la Kill, and started playing Punishing Gray Raven. so I'm in the mood for fight scenes. hopefully that means this goes easier. and i don't get stuck writing 40k of something else because adhd makes me incapable of sticking with one fic long enough to actually finish it
the GOAL here is to post string theory on the day it starts. we shall see. it will be fic 100 whether i have to fight my brain or not. next chapter will be Monday so help me god.
Chapter Text
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Kolivan looks over at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”
“That’s the Uduke. You know, the ship that was just at Van Six. The ship that sent me off on an ‘inspection tour.’”
“Hm,” Kolivan muses, “This will be interesting.”
Krolia huffs. “One word for it. What’s so important about these two anyway?”
“Keith and Lotor are some of the Blade’s greatest assets. They may be reckless sometimes, but they have both proven time and time again to be great leaders and warriors.”
Keith. Krolia flicks her gaze from the ship on the scanner to Kolivan for a moment, then back to the ship. It has to be a coincidence, right? It’s not like Keith is a particularly rare name. Even with Voltron out there, and all evidence points towards the Blue Paladin being the one Vosa showed her so long ago, there’s no reason to believe every one of them is from Earth. Her Keith is not up here. “And yet they ended up on a Druid ship?”
Kolivan sighs. “You know we’ve never managed to have a Blade based on a Druid ship. There are just simply not enough Galra crewers. Keith of all people wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by to get actual data from one. He… knows far too well what the Druids can do.”
Krolia very deliberately does not look over at Kolivan as she says “So he is a Paladin.”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s an idiot.”
Kolivan barks a surprised laugh. “As if you haven’t done similar?”
“Karuta was an exception. Get ready, we’re reverting. This is going to need some fast talking.”
They revert to realspace with a flash of light and Krolia taps a few buttons. Something goes bang in the back of the ship and she turns away from Kolivan to hide her smirk at his jump. “What was that?”
“The hyperdrive.”
“Krolia??”
“I did say fast talking. Always better if it’s believable.” She gestures for him to stay quiet and reaches for the comm. “This is Colonel Kuiraa, Van Sector Commander, requesting emergency help.”
Static crackles at them for a moment before a robotic voice answers. “This is the Uduke, Colonel. Requesting explanation.”
“Rebel elements were discovered aboard the sector base. I attempted drastic measures, but they sabotaged something within the moon itself. I don’t know how, but the moon… imploded? I took who I could and fled, but my capital ship was also sabotaged and the Nai I’m currently in is on its last legs. Our hyperdrive just burnt out.”
There is utter silence over the comm for a long moment. Beside her, Kolivan is clearly doing his best not to move. “I don’t think they’re buying it,” he whispers.
“They’ll buy it,” she hisses back.
“Keep your distance, but don’t look like you’re keeping your distance.”
“Stop backseat piloting.”
“Colonel Kuiraa,” the robotic voice comes back, “is your life support online?”
Krolia looks over at Kolivan. He nods and gets out of the gunner’s chair, heading back to shoot something into breaking. “No, sir.”
“Very well. We will tractor you into bay two. Please do not leave your ship until we arrive at our destination, at which point you will be transferred to another ship for debriefing.”
“Sir, I am sure that if we stay on this ship any longer it is going to blow up.”
If a robot could sigh, she’s sure it would be right now. “One moment.” Behind her, Kolivan tilts his head in a strangely human gesture of confusion. She mimes blowing things up. He nods and starts ripping panels open. “Colonel, the Lady has agreed to give you quarters on the ship. You are not to leave them until she arrives.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Tractoring you in now.”
Krolia clicks the comm off and bolts out of her chair to join Kolivan. “Hand me that wire, we’re going to rig this to blow the engines on a signal from your comm.”
“The green one?”
“Yeah, that one.” She extends her claws and swipes through its insulation, cutting it clean before leaving it hanging to repeat the process on a few more. Before long she has a set of hotwired components all strung together to the overloading point, and all connected to the core of the hyperdrive. “Hold that pipe, I don’t want to rip it off.”
Kolivan frowns at the request but obliges, holding the main fuel pump of the hyperdrive as Krolia swipes a claw through its controls. His eyebrows raise. She waves one of her claws at him. “Marmorait.”
“...right.”
She steps back and puts her hands on her hips. “Okay. One signal to the comm should do it.” A loud clang echoes through the ship as it lands in a heap, presumably in the hangar. “Just in time from the sound of it. Follow my lead.”
Kolivan mutters something under his breath that she chooses to ignore. And together, they step out onto a Druid-controlled ship.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Curiously, there is no Druid standing there to meet them. Krolia had thought that the sudden appearance of a damaged ship and reports of an imploded base would have brought whoever was in charge of this ship down to meet them. “I have orders to take you to temporary quarters,” the sentry in front of them intones.
“Very well.” She gestures for Kolivan to follow her and falls into step behind the sentry. He does, clasping his hands behind his back, one hand subtly covering his comm. “May I ask who is in charge of the ship?”
“Lady Ludna.”
“And where is Lady Ludna?”
“Lady Ludna was recalled.”
Krolia has to work very hard not to let the relief be visible. Not having the Druid commander on the ship is one less obstacle to getting their people out of here in one piece. “I see.” But then who was the controller referring to? “Will she be back shortly?”
“I am unable to provide that information.” Fine then. It’s unlikely she’ll be able to get much out of the sentry. A glance back and a flick of four fingers out gains a nod from Kolivan, and so, four steps later—
BOOM goes the ship, spewing metal parts and burning fuel through the hangar. Krolia reaches out lightning quick and slams a palm into the sentry, sending it crashing to the ground. Kolivan ducks forward, drawing his blade from his back and stabbing it into the sentry’s head. He wiggles it around, making it look like a shrapnel wound before placing it back on his back. Then they start running, ducking through the chaos the hangar has turned into. Fire crews charge behind them in eerie silence but for their metal steps, while another set of sentries starts picking through the wreckage blown all over the hangar. Krolia weaves them between a wing of Zraizrüpsae and through a door the sentry hadn’t been leading them to. From there she picks a random direction and runs, Kolivan chasing after her, until she skids to a stop in a random intersection. “That was even better than I thought it’d be.”
Kolivan pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture she’d seen Ryan do far more than any Galra she’s met before or since, and as much as it sends a pang through her heart, there’s a tiny bit of her wondering just where Kolivan picked up such a human gesture.
(It’s not your Keith.)
“What is with you two and explosions?”
“What?”
“Nevermind. I was half-dead last time you were on a Druid ship; is it safe for me to call Keith on the emergency comm?”
“No. There are too few people on these ships that use the audio frequencies, and these ships have far tighter security than regular Diviks; anything we tried to send on the sentry frequencies would be flagged immediately. We need to get out of sight.”
Kolivan peers at one of the vents. “Too small for us…”
“The less traveled corridors are probably the same as on regular Diviks.”
He glances at the markings on the intersection walls, then turns to the port side of the ship. “This way.”
Keith freezes where he is when an alert sounds through the sentry lines Lotor’s monitoring. “That us?”
Lotor’s face is invisible behind his mask, but his posture is intense concentration. “I don’t think so. Something about an explosion in the hangar.”
Keith frowns and turns to look at him. “Explosion in the hangar?”
“There aren’t more details. Just a request for another fire crew because the first one is missing a member.”
“Missing a member… you don’t think that’s our ride, do you?”
“This quickly?” Lotor snorts. “Doubt it. You said yourself after we passed that first lab we’d probably have to get ourselves out of here or they’d have to send Voltron.”
“You said there isn’t even a Druid onboard.”
“Look, do you want to go check it out or continue towards the storage core?”
“It’s on the way.”
Lotor clearly boggles at him even through the mask. “How? The main hangar is back that way and the storage core is down in the extension. How is it on our way?”
“Because if it is our ride, they have to know we’re not aiming for the hangar, and they probably know from what Raykob told them that we went in the airlock. Obviously, we’re not going to stay there. So the obvious choice is to move away from the hangar and the airlock, in the way we’re already moving. We just have to move a little more in their way.”
“And what way is that?”
Keith studies Lotor for a moment, then his idea for their next step. Lotor follows where he’s looking and shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh come on, we’d fit.”
“No, Keith.”
“It works in movies.”
“That’s not a good reason!”
Keith grins at him. “It’s good enough for Lance, and somehow it always works when he does it.”
“No!”
“It’s also small enough that Galra in general can’t fit through it. You and I will because of our künantok characteristics. If they don’t know it’s us specifically on the ship, it’s the last place they’ll look. In addition, it provides a network throughout the whole ship that we can navigate through without having to work around checkpoints, and it probably has a way into the storage core that won’t be watched. We can pop in, get the thing, pop out, and check out that explosion along the way, with no one the wiser until the Druids decide to check for it. By that point, we’ll be back at Morakiluide with Vanab and Allura salivating over it.”
Lotor buries his face in his hands. “I hate you. I hate that you actually thought this through enough to give me that justification.”
“I could just order you.”
“We both know I’d never follow that order without the justification.”
“Yeah, because you’re just a prissy prince underneath all that.”
“I am not prissy!” Lotor hisses at him and Keith holds back cackles that would get them caught.
“You are so easy to rile up sometimes.”
“Kaplaat.”
“You need a sibling.”
“Who needs siblings when I’ve got you?”
“I don’t count.”
Lotor looks like he’s about to sputter out something else but instead takes a deep breath. “Fine. Whatever. Are we getting in or not?”
“Thought you’d never agree.” Keith kicks in the grate and peers down the shaft. “Wanna go first?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay then.” With that, Keith slithers into the shaft and follows it down to the main ‘corridor’ that leads directly to the trash compactor. Lotor follows, begrudgingly grumbling under his breath the entire time. “You’re not going to say something like ‘what a wonderful smell you’ve discovered'?”
“I have my mask vacuum sealed.” There’s a pause and Keith mourns the fact that he is not currently on a mission with people who will get Star Wars jokes. “Does it actually smell?”
“No, there’s not enough actual people on this ship to get that much trash. I doubt the compactors actually run more than once a week. Come on, I think we can climb up a chute on the other side of that to get closer to the hangar.”
Krolia ducks under a tube and points it out to Kolivan so he doesn’t whack his head on it. He ducks with a grunt of thanks and follows. “Why do you keep glancing at the grates?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Not consciously. It’s just I think Keith and Lotor might be small enough they could fit in them.”
Krolia raises an eyebrow. “You think they’re crawling around in the vents and garbage chutes to escape security?”
“Possible. On the other hand, we haven’t run into that much security, and I haven’t caught any alerts that the sentry teams are looking for us or them.”
“You’re right that security seems oddly lax. So what would they have run into that would have forced them into the vents?”
“I don’t know, and that’s what concerns me. Can we stop for a dobash?”
Krolia looks over her shoulder. “Why?”
“I had an idea. Vanab gave Keith the latest version of the emergency comm, which means it should be pingable over the sentry frequencies without drawing attention. We should be able to at least figure out where he is right now.”
Krolia frowns as she looks through the corridor to find a spot they’re unlikely to be spotted by any stray sentries or maintenance mechs. “Why does he have the full emergency comm and not a pinger?”
Kolivan ducks past her into an alcove he spotted before she did. “Aside from the fact I think he’ll be a General eventually? I’d rather get to him myself than have to deal with the Red Lion crashing through wherever he is and ruining whatever possible stealth could be salvaged from what he’s doing.”
“...ah. If the Red Lion does that much for him, why is he a Blade?”
Kolivan pauses, looking down at the forearm projection of his own emergency comm. “I think,” he starts carefully, “that he’s scared. He was thrust into a position of power before he was ready, and his support system was ripped away by the same event. None of them wanted it to happen, not even the Lions, but it was the only choice they had. So when the opportunity came to remove himself from the equation of six, he did so.”
“And you think he’ll make General?”
Kolivan looks up at her. “He already practically is. I’m trying to give him the confidence he needs.”
Krolia stares at him. “When did you go soft?”
He smiles. “When Keith was dropped in my lap. I thought you’d like me ‘going soft,’ given everything you said before you left.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
“I’ve changed some other things too. Keith’s been an invaluable help.”
“...Kolivan, you--” she cuts herself off, crossing her arms and looking away. She isn’t sure she should say what she’s thinking, not on a mission at least.
“I what?”
(It’s not her Keith.)
She sighs. He’ll never leave it alone if she doesn’t say it. “You talk about him like you talked about Kolí.”
Kolivan doesn’t look at her. “I won’t fail him the same way I failed her.”
“She made her choice, Kolivanka.”
“... I know. But she shouldn’t have had to.”
If you’d listened to me she never would have died. She won’t say that out loud. Kolivan holds enough grief and guilt in his heart over that as it is. He probably knows it too. “Did it ping?”
“This way.”
Keith pauses when Lotor tenses behind him. “Did we finally get a sentry ping?” Lotor doesn’t respond; Keith turns around fully as best he can stuffed into the chute. “Lotor?”
“I think we’ve got a problem,” he whispers.
Keith instinctively lowers his voice to match. “Define problem.”
“Remember how I said I couldn’t sense a Druid?”
“... Fuck.”
“And, if I’m right…” Lotor trails off, pointing towards a nearby opening in the chutes.
Keith glances over. This particular chute is about shoulder height for the average Galra. He can just barely see two figures walking toward them… “I’m going to get the jump on them.”
“No, Keith, wait--!”
Krolia ducks down instinctively just before something swings out of the vent she’s about to pass by. The sword flicks over her head and the person rolls behind her, bringing their sword to her throat just as she aims her gun at their head.
“Keith!”
The figure with the sword pauses and another head pokes out of the vent, gun cocked next to it. “General Kolivan?”
“Yes. Stand down, Keith, she’s a Blade.”
Keith hesitates a moment but moves his sword away from her throat. In return, Krolia lowers her gun. The person in the vent (Lotor, she supposes) wiggles his way out and drops down next to her. “Apologies, sir,” Lotor says, sticking his gun back in its holster, “I thought I sensed a Druid.”
Kolivan exchanges a look with her. “The Druid that runs this ship isn’t onboard.”
“We know,” Keith drawls, “that’s why we jumped you,” and something in Krolia twists. He’s speaking with a subtle accent, his u and ü are too similar, aas too short. He sounds like--he sounds like Ryan’s stumbling attempts to pick up her first language, but smoother, like he knew it already.
(It’s not her Keith.)
Lotor taps his mask and gestures them into a nearby unoccupied room. He looks so similar to his parents that a ping twists through her again, memories of a younger, whole Zarkon flitting through the back of her mind. Kolivan is already turned towards Keith, a lecture on his tongue that starts with “What were you thinking?”
Keith pushes his hood down and releases his mask to yell back and she barely notices that he looks so familiar (it’s not her Keith, it can’t be) because her eyes are caught on the sword in Keith’s hand. It’s made of marthuzitok, the distinctive blue-purple tinge to it glittering in the light, the soft glow of quintessence pulsing along it as it shrinks into a dagger, but more than that, it’s the design. It’s the slight curve to the blade, the half-symbol of the Crest on the hilt just barely visible underneath Keith’s hand, the fact that it shrinks at all.
She recognizes that blade.
She’s held that blade in her hands, she’s cleaned blood off it, she’s placed it reverently in a tiny backpack and left it with her child.
That’s her blade.
And that--that Keith, who sounds like Ryan, who has his hair, who has her jaw, who has her blade.
That’s her Keith.
Chapter 5: Memories of a Boy You Haven't Met Yet
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
it's still monday, right? right? this is late because I had to write more of the next chapter to decide if its first paragraph went here or there. It's also the shortest, but that's because it's Very focused.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
‘This mission will explain a lot’ no fucking shit, Kolivan.
(“I was thinking it was a good source of intel.”
“You abandoned the mission.”)
Krolia lies in bed, exhausted, and wonders if dovra was originally evolved for childbirth. She has to wonder how humans manage it, because it’s been hours and she still desperately wishes she could haul herself over to Vosa and make use of the healing pod, even as malfunctioning as it is.
“Hey,” Ryan’s soft voice whispers next to her. She opens her eyes and looks up at him and the bundle in his arms. “I think this little one is hungry.”
The bundle is indeed wiggling and making noises that seem like its occupant is hungry. She shifts so she’s somewhat sitting up and takes their baby from him, bringing them to her chest and smiling down as they get what they want. “Need to think of names,” she murmurs.
“You got ideas?”
“Yorak.” Ryan makes some sort of noise. “I’ll take that as a no?”
“Yeah.”
“Kíth.”
“Isn’t that a boy’s name?”
Krolia manages to tear her gaze away from the baby to blink up at him. “Names have genders on Earth?”
Ryan blinks back for a moment, then laughs. “You know? You’re right. Names don’t have genders, and we should be letting the little one pick anyway. I like the name Keith.”
He pronounces it slightly differently than she does, which probably means it’s also a name on Earth. A little connection for Keith to both their ancestries. Krolia smiles and shifts so one of Keith’s wiggly hands can latch around her pinky. “Hey, Keithva.”
She loves them so much, them and Ryan and this little life she never dreamed she’d have.
(“I only meant to get close enough I could hide a tracker!”
“And that required the airlock?”)
“Sasa,” a tiny voice whispers, and Krolia grumbles her way to blinking her eyes open. A similarly tiny face blinks too-big eyes at her, chubby cheeks giving way to baby fangs in a smile. “Daddy says it's snowing.”
She blinks up at her kid, only half awake. What time is it even? “I thought it didn’t snow in Earth's deserts.”
“It does when there manages to be enough moisture in the clouds,” Ryan answers as he pokes his head in the door. “Come on, Keithy-cat, let’s find a blanket and we can go watch.”
“But Sasa--”
Ryan laughs. “Let your mother wake up first.”
Keith pouts about it but gets off the bed and darts over to the shelves that hold their blankets. Ryan presses a kiss to her forehead before taking the blanket from Keith’s hands and leading him out the door. Krolia yawns and swings herself out of bed. 0630 Earth time. She shakes her head fondly. Let it be known that her kitok is a lively one.
A few minutes later she’s in the kitchen making three cups of hot chocolate and taking them out to the cold desert morning. Ryan gives her a smile and takes his cup with the hand not currently holding Keith. Keith himself beams at her and cradles his cup in his hands. “Thank you, Sasa!”
She ruffles his hair and sips her own drink. “I hear it’s snowing?”
“Look!”
She does look, but not at the snow. She looks at the wonder on Keith’s face as he watches frozen water fall from the sky. She looks at Ryan, holding him with a content smile on his own face, gazing up at the sky like it holds all the answers. Keith wiggles and Ryan sets him down, laughing as Keith runs out into the snow, sticking his tongue out and catching flakes before they hit the ground. “I’m glad it’s snowing,” he murmurs. At her quirked eyebrow, he explains: “The deserts have been getting worse. This means that not only whatever cloud seeding Akane came up with is working, but that it’s cold enough to snow. It means we have hope that his generation will still have our home world to sustain them. And it means that, for now, he gets moments like this.”
Krolia smiles and leans against him. “I’m glad he’ll still have our home.”
“Sasa! Daddy! Come on!”
“Alright, alright,” Krolia laughs. “We’ll come play, Keithva.”
(“Vanab said they had to be inside to work best. How was I supposed to know it was about to launch?”
“By waiting for Raykob to get the intel you were actually there for.”)
“Krolia.”
She glances over at Raskova hovering in the doorway. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Vuevai is clearly angry with you. You disobeyed a direct order from her.”
“Yes, well, even if I wanted to I couldn’t answer.” Krolia quirks an eyebrow; Raskova smiles grimly. “I deleted all the nav data from that Divik and the Nai we used to get here. They can’t find the stellar coordinates if they try.”
“...Thank you.”
Raskova sits down next to her. They sit in silence, staring up at the stars surrounding Karuta. Krolia knows that this planet is across the universe from Daibazaal, from Sol (and to think that she’s the only one who knows where Sol is right now… maybe it will keep them safe), but she still can find five familiar stars twinkling in the night sky. And she wishes, desperately, that she had her kid in her arms and Ryan next to them, looking up at the vast beauty of the universe, telling stories that all peoples did to understand it.
“Why don’t you want them to know where the Spirit is?”
Krolia doesn’t look away from the stars. “Because there is something with it that I must protect, something I value more than my life, or Voltron itself.”
Raskova is silent for a long moment. “General Kolivan is the one most likely to understand that sentiment. You should talk to him.”
“If Vuevai lets me back in.”
“She will. You’re a Paladin, even without the Spirit of Water. If anyone can help us finish what the Fifth General started, it’s you.”
“Who was the Fifth General?”
“No one knows. Kozur asked me to pass this on to you. It’s got a bunch of stuff you probably missed, including what we know of the Fifth General.”
Krolia takes the datapad. “Thank you. You’ve done far more than you needed to, Raskova.”
Raskova leaves with a small smile and a clap on her shoulder. Krolia holds the datapad for a moment, the daunting weight of ten thousand decaphoebs of history in her hands. She looks back at the Künalsaetok Zad and makes one last wish before she throws herself into her new life.
Keep him safe, she wishes, keep them all safe.
(“If I’d done that we’d never be able to get a tracker on this thing because it would have left.”
“Better a missed opportunity than you dead.”)
“Why are you out here, Krolia?”
Krolia shakes herself out of her thoughts and turns to look at her visitor. “Kolí. Did Kolivan send you to follow me?”
The young Blade shakes her head. “Kasa’s busy sorting out what happened to Mekaal. I thought you’d be helping him, given General Vuevai promoted you to replace them. But instead, you’re out here.”
Krolia looks back up at the stars. “It’d be Keith’s birthday today.”
Kolí makes an understanding noise and sits down next to her. “You want to go visit Earth.”
“I know I can’t,” she murmurs. “It’s not safe for either of us. But he’d be ten Earth years old today, and I…”
“Tell me about him.”
Krolia shifts and looks at her in confusion. “What?”
“Tell me about him! You never talk about him or your partner and I know it makes you sad to hold it in. You don’t even tell Kasa about him. I’m not even sure he knows his name.”
“I don’t because it’s dangerous. Even the Blade has political factions, and despite the fact that Vuevai has warmed up to me, there are still people that don’t like the fact I’m here at all. They think I’ll make the Blade in the image of the Empire.” None of them seem to understand that that is the last thing she wants. She survived the Fall of Altea. She knows firsthand what the Witch and Zarkon are capable of, and they’ve only grown stronger since.
“Well, I’m not gonna tell anyone. Who knows, the way Kasa talks about you sometimes I swear he’ll end up my sibling.”
Krolia chokes on air. “What?”
Kolí grins and says “Oops. Wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Maybe you’ll be able to get Kasa out of his head about it, though. But tell me about Keith.”
Krolia looks back up at the stars, settling back on her hands, staring up at the Künalsaetok Zad. “Alright, Kolí, I’ll tell you.”
(“Okay, look, fine, I miscalculated slightly, okay? But there’s a good reason we’re still here.”
“Then you’ll be sure to write me exactly how much you miscalculated in your report. We’re leaving before the Druid gets back.”)
Krolia sits at her desk in her private quarters on Van Six, staring at the latest intelligence reports. She doesn't know how to feel about them.
The Paladins are back.
She should be happy, she knows, because if the Paladins are back surely that means Kolivan is making an effort to get in contact with them, surely that signals this horrible war is nearing its end. But what little video and pictures intel has managed to get only shows one of them, the Black Paladin.
He’s human.
She can piece together some of what happened from the intel reports. A ship strayed upon the Sol system and picked up a research craft from the outskirts to gather more intel on the spacefaring species. The prisoners ended up in the gladiator pits because after all, the best way to talk to a warrior is to fight them. Someone releases this one, Champion, from the pits, and sends him back to Earth. And that person could only have been a Blade; very few know of humans up here, and even fewer know Earth’s location: her and Kolivan. If someone had sent Kozur a prisoner list including someone that matched her description of a human, xe would have informed Kolivan immediately, and within hours there would be orders to get him out of there.
But that means the Empire’s been to Sol since she left. With the Spirit of Water no longer on Earth, there should be no reason for them to care. Then again, this is the Empire. The Empire she watched fall to ruin and genocide around her. The Empire that stole her family, her home, her House twice over.
She begs the stars that Keith is still safe on Earth.
(“We can’t, Kolivan, not yet.”
“Explain, Commander.”)
Keith, Kikrolia Marmorait stands in front of her, arguing with Kolivan as she watches, frozen, trying to process anything beyond the fact that is her kitok standing there in full Blade uniform, he doesn’t even have his claws yet, leading a dangerous mission, being referred to as Commander by the people around him. And on top of all that?
He’s a Paladin.
(“The compass stone is on this ship.”)
Notes:
cough shatterpoint cough
Chapter 6: Trying to Envision You
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
apparently, the key to this chapter and the next was A Jedi's Fury. make of that what you will.
anyway with that I'm pretty much done with this? I have like two scenes to write that connect the end I had written already (and now have to rework slightly) with this. so.October 26th. Come hell or high water, even if I have to post more E-rated Wedge/Tycho just to have a fic 99 because Kusyke/the other idea I had don't cooperate.
String Theory.
Chapter Text
Whatever Keith just said shuts Kolivan up really quickly; Krolia scans through what little of that conversation she processed to try and figure it out, because she has only shut him up that fast twice in her life, and neither were good news. “You’re sure?”
“We’ve got it in the inventory list, and Lotor’s pretty sure he can sense it.”
Kolivan takes a deep breath and runs his hands down his face. “Only you. Only you .”
Keith smirks. “Sorry.”
“Where is it?”
“The storage core. We were heading there when Lotor thought he sensed the Druid and we ran into you.”
“Let’s go,” Kolivan says, and Krolia doesn’t think she’s ever heard him say something more begrudgingly in her life.
A dark figure looks down at the several destroyed sentries, covered with shrapnel and fire damage. Behind her is her own transport ship from Point of Exile, and in front of her is a destroyed Nai. Next to her, the sentry commander of this ship stands still as it intones the current problem. “We don’t know where the two we picked up are, Milady.”
“You’re sure they even existed?”
“Colonel Kuiraa had all the correct codes, and we did get footage from the sentry sent to pick them up of them, although they both had helmets on.”
She turns and looks up through the ship with more than her eyes. “I sense something… familiar. Forget about giving me a ride back to Kunanmora. Let’s not alert them we’re on to them. Keep the ship how Ludna told you to before Her Highness called her back. As of this moment, I am in command of this ship.”
The sentry bows. “Yes, Milady.”
“Kolivan,” the Blade that isn’t Kolivan hisses as soon as they’re on their way. Lotor can’t hear whatever he says back, but he can hear the incredulity in the other Blade’s voice in her next words. “And that wasn’t the first damn thing you told me?”
“We were busy,” he hisses back, “We are busy. I promised I’d explain everything when we were back on Morakiluide.”
“And you couldn’t have told me who we were saving?” He winces at that. She sounds furious, and he can’t quite tell if it’s all at Kolivan or the object of that sentence. Given everything, it’s probably referring to him. He’s yet to get a good look at her, and Keith’s buffeting his quintessence senses too much for him to get a real sense of her, but he’s fairly certain he hasn’t met her before, and there’s no shortage of people in the Blade that have issue with the former prince being with them. Keith’s presence assuages most of them, but there are still those holdouts.
“Hey, you’re not saving anybody here,” Keith grumbles as Kolivan mutters “I was hoping he wouldn’t take his mask off until we were off the ship.”
Lotor sighs. They are in the middle of a random corridor in the middle of a Druid controlled ship, and Keith is choosing now to either defend his honor or piss Kolivan off for the hell of it. “I didn’t want to get off this ship by ourselves. Be grateful you’re important enough that the General came out to get you.” He has no illusions on what would have happened if it was just him on this ship.
“He didn’t,” Keith mutters.
“I didn’t.”
Lotor stops in his tracks and stares at the Blade General. “You didn’t?” He didn’t? Then why is he here? Why would he not go after Keith?
“I sent Krolia,” Kolivan points at the other Blade, “I just happened to be in the same ship.”
This time Keith stops walking too, turning to stare at the Blade just as Lotor is. He finally takes a moment to try and push Keith’s overbearing Lion-connected quintessence out of view enough he can look at her. He can see… blue, water, a lot of it, a raging river that threatens the strength of a tsunami, a swirl of something else, but then Keith steps forward and his firestorm coats Lotor’s senses once again.
And then the name registers.
“Wait, you’re General Krolia?!”
“She’s our best bet on getting you two out of here, as she’s been on Druid ships before.”
“What? When?” Keith leans forward, the sheer intensity in his voice almost pushing Lotor back.
“Later,” Krolia answers. “We need to stop standing around.”
“But--”
“Druid. Ship. We have one goal here, Commander, and that is to get you out of here alive. If you want to get the compass stone, we’d better hurry.”
“Where did the other two come from?” she asks, peering at the still frame of video sitting on the monitor. It’s blurry, but there’s enough to make out four figures, one in colonel’s orange, another in pilot gear, matching the footage recovered from the hangar bay. The other two are unidentifiable grey-purple blurs, something preventing the cameras from picking them up accurately at all.
“Unknown,” the sentry’s robotic voice answers.
The dark figure taps a finger on her arm. “Do you have an estimate on where they are heading?”
“Unknown,” the sentry repeats. She resists a sigh in exasperation. No matter what Her Majesty says, the security against infiltration these machines provide is not worth having to deal with them. Even their networked intelligence does not match up to a sentient conversation level.
“What’s the most dangerous thing in the direction they’re heading?”
“The fourth bow turbolaser--”
“Inside the labs. I doubt they’re heading to blow up a turbolaser.”
“This unit is not privy to what happens within the labs.”
She does sigh this time. “And Ludna didn’t give you anything to go off of, did she.”
“No, Milady.”
“Alright. Let me know if there’s another frame like this one.” She turns, robes swirling behind her, and decides to go for a leisurely stroll.
Keith pauses midstep, looking back at the corridor behind them. Lotor has already stopped; Krolia stops as he does, peering back. It takes a few more steps for Kolivan to realize the rest of them have stopped. “What?”
“I don’t know,” Lotor whispers, “Something… strange. Like a Druid, but more powerful. Almost like the Witch.”
Keith tenses. “You don’t think--”
“No, I don’t think it’s her if it even is a Druid. It could just be one of their sick creations.”
Krolia turns to look at Keith. “You’ve seen the Witch before?”
Seen her, fought her, saved his brother from the results of her alchemy, destroyed her toys, been hit by her power, the feeling of being devoured, devour devour devour-- “Yeah.”
“Lotor, I need you to tell us the instant it comes any closer.” Krolia’s face is invisible under her helmet, but her body language is oddly familiar. Almost human, in some ways, different from the quirks he knows the other Generals have picked up from interacting with Voltron.
She looks like she’s seen the Witch firsthand too.
“Copy that.”
The dark figure pauses in the middle of the hallway, cocking her head and staring intently at the wall. There is something… familiar. A tendril of something from long ago, something that wants to devour, but is held back, hidden, waiting, a serpent in the garden hissing and murmuring, devouring, devouring devouring devouring--
But not in control. So it’s not somehow a reflection of her, not Her Majesty, not another Druid. Not even one of Ludna’s pet projects.
Interesting…
“Lotor.”
“General Kolivan?”
“What ‘sick creations’ do you think are on this ship?”
Lotor turns slightly to look at the Blade General creeping alongside him. Keith is further ahead, Krolia slightly behind them, both keeping a lookout even as they travel through the empty corridors. “Are you asking what I can sense, or what I’ve seen?”
“What you think is here right now.”
Lotor looks out beyond the visible world for a moment, sensing with abilities he is the only one he knows has. (He suspects, but he has no proof. Hopefully, he will not have to see it for himself this day.) “I sense dark things, unnatural things. They would be voids to others but are clear as the new decaphoeb winds to me. They are bound, to each other and to something greater, by their instincts, by filaments, by something I know not how to explain. They are mindless, they are driven only by the undying need to devour. And given what else I have seen from the Witch, I dread what happens if they are released.”
“Would they be controllable?”
Lotor looks at the former Paladin slinking through the corridors in front of them, a prime cut of meat for anything with the urge to devour, devour devour devour, the sheer strength of his quintessence unmatched by anything aboard this ship. “No.”
Kolivan nods. “And are they why we haven’t run into any security?”
“I hope not.”
The dark figure stares up at the frozen figure in one of the ice labs. “I forgot Kreles let Ludna keep one,” she mutters. “Horrific, as usual.” The frozen… thing is perfect for what it is, four limbs and the more common set of galra ears recognizable facets of it. Mardukayt markings line the face, a big nose and a square jaw underneath them. Strong muscles at one point held the thing up, but now they’re frozen, slowly atrophying in cryofreeze. But it is, in the end, nothing more than a poor attempt. Nothing compared to the real thing. Its filaments are tangled, its quintessence defective, corrupted beyond anything but subservience. It is nothing compared to Her Majesty’s masterpiece.
At least she won’t have to deal with Kreles’ mess of a project today. She can’t quite sense all the intruders, but she’s close enough now that she can pick out two of them. Not that she has to be close at all, given the ones she can sense are Paladins. So similar as well, overlapping each other, their fire feeding each other, a raging river and a firestorm clashing in a ship too small for the both of them. But what, exactly, would Voltron be doing here, without any Spirits to boot? What do they want out of this ship, when there’s nothing but--
Ah. Ah.
Perhaps she can play this to Her Majesty's advantage.
The four of them hover just out of reach of the cameras they’re sure are pointing at the unassuming door in front of them. They’re in the best maybe-blind spot they’ve been able to scout out, staring at the final obstacle between them. “You’re sure it’s in there?”
“Yes,” is Lotor’s simple answer.
“Somehow I don’t think any of our command codes are going to work on that.”
Krolia shakes her head. “They did on the last Druid ship I was on, but I’d rather not bring security down on us after we’ve done so well this far.” They stare for a moment more, studying the map Lotor projects between them and the space around them. “...We could probably open it from the inside?”
“And how are we doing that?” Kolivan murmurs.
“The vents,” Keith answers without thinking.
Kolivan’s raised eyebrow is audible in his voice. “Possible, actually. This isn’t one of the secure labs that are disconnected from the full ventilation system. Are you volunteering?”
Keith blinks at him, finally processes what he just said, and sighs. “I guess. Lotor, think you can get through?”
“I don’t believe it’s wise for me to be in there by myself. At the very least you should come as well.”
“Fine. Krolia, what do you think is the easiest way to get in?”
They discuss, but Keith isn’t really listening. Sure, he’s processing where they’re telling him to go, but he’s not really listening. There’s something familiar about Krolia’s voice, something that’s been bugging him the entire time they’ve been sneaking through this ship. But he can’t figure out what.
Maybe she sounds like an old teacher? There’s definitely something that reminds him of Okasan, a painful tinge in his heart, but she’s not exactly the same. Does she just sound… motherly? What does that even mean? Why does she sound so familiar? Every time she murmurs an order about directions or stealth something in him whispers that he’s heard this before, every time she slinks past him to switch point position something in him whispers that he’s seen that movement before, something beyond the movement of a trained soldier and fighter.
If only she’d take the helmet off, if only he could look at her and figure out what is so familiar.
(If one is a Warrior of the Stars, they will grant that wish)
“I’d tell you to just go find the stone yourself,” Krolia adds as she finishes outlining the best route, snapping Keith back to the present with the reminder of her voice, “but I don’t think splitting up is a good idea.”
“Agreed. Lotor, stay here for a bit so there’s only one of us clanking around in the vents. I’ll be back in three.”
“Adtuitekun marzay,” Krolia whispers after him. Keith resists the urge to jerk around and ask her how she’s said that to him before. Instead, he slips forward, following the map in his HUD to the closest intersection. There’s a vent in the ceiling that he only has to fiddle with for a minute before it unhooks from itself and he can jump in. It takes some undignified wiggling, but soon enough he’s up in the vent, the grate closed behind him. “Okay,” he whispers to himself, “easy part done.”
Honestly, the vents are not comfortable. Lotor has an easier time of it, his slender Altean figure and shapeshifting abilities allowing him through with little difficulty. Keith is broader in the shoulders in the first place, his human stockier and shorter figure bumping against the sides occasionally, and if what Vanab told him way back when he first joined the Blade is true, soon enough he probably won’t be able to fit at all. But Krolia and Kolivan had no hope of getting through here, and it’s better him with his full access code getting through than Lotor if push comes to shove.
It’s one right and then two lefts for him to be able to peer down into the storage room. The room is huge, spreading under maybe half the labs in this part of the Divik and into the darkness beyond him. Shelves line the room, filled with boxes and jars and things Keith dares not look closer at. There’s a computer whirring almost silently to his right, its dark screen likely to display inventory or hold the less tangible things the Witch wants stored. Further into the darkness stretch tubes along the walls, labels scrawled on them in altean he can’t hope to read.
‘Secure’ is a useless word, but it’s one the Druids probably use anyway, given the grate isn’t so much a grate as a bolted-in mesh. Harder to get through than the one outside, but still relatively simple given his sword and a little recklessness. Very few things can stand up to marthuzitok, after all, and they’re not expecting to stick around long enough for the Druids to notice. Three quick slashes cut a hole he can actually see through. Nothing moves, so he drops down.
Instantly, he feels something is very, very wrong.
Chapter 7: Cast My Hope Upon the Pleiades
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
get ready for a wham episode
Chapter Text
Keith freezes where he is, blade in its knife form in his hand. It’s impossible to see into the darkness even with the night vision filter on his mask, just the ghostly imprints of shelves fading into the blackness. Nothing moves; even he barely breathes.
There is something buzzing at the edge of his hearing. A noise he can never seem to fully make out, but he knows he’s heard before. Every hair on his arms is on end, adrenaline and satok flooding his veins and he doesn’t. know. why.
But this has only happened to this intensity three times before. Once, the first time he’d fought Zarkon in Taibderion, when he’d barely noticed everything because of the sheer adrenaline of going one on one with the Emperor himself. Once, in the Nebula, right before the Witch’s toy had devoured them. A third time, above Holan, as the Kovan Zvatsik fired, slamming him and the Black Lion into the icy moon amid Galraasa’s gloating.
Slowly, cautiously, Keith backs towards the computer, hoping that he can at least get something out of this, even if it’s not the compass stone. He can’t risk opening the door, not now, not with whatever is out there buzzing in his ears. Hell, even doing anything but standing there is a risk. But he has to move, has to try. He only dares take his eyes off his surroundings for a moment, hoping his code works on the computer as he types it in. Miraculously, it does, the screen blinking to life for a tick before he hisses and turns it off. He freezes, expecting something to pounce on him. For a long, long dobash, nothing moves. Keith takes a silent breath. There’s a space for datachips below the screen; one in his belt pocket has Kozur’s run-and-erase program on it, automatically dumping all data from the system onto it and then erasing every trace it was used.
The buzzing is getting louder, almost seeming to stalk towards him. Instinctively, he ducks back towards the shelves.
“I know you’re there, Paladin.”
His breath catches in his throat, immobilized, his hearing screaming and every instinct saying this is something to run from.
“You can’t hide from me.”
A sickly pink glow begins to light up the dark recesses. His emergency comm registers a ping. He’s been in here for too long, but he can’t move to warn Kolivan off, or that thing, that unholy, devouring light will find him, and he knows what will happen with the utter clarity of a cornered animal.
“Pa-la-din,” the voice sing-songs.
Keith takes a deep breath and lets it out soundlessly. He may be a cornered animal, but he is also something more.
He’s a Blade.
A subvocal command sends back a double ping to Kolivan, standard code for no.
A dark shape appears with a flash and Keith dives for its feet, blade striking out just as sickly pink sizzles over his head. He disappears back into the dark, running away from the door.
“You can’t hide forever.”
“I’m not expecting to,” he yells back, as reckless as it is, because if he can get this thing away from Kolivan and the others, if he can give them space to get the compass stone and the data, then that’s mission accomplished and it doesn’t matter whether he lives through it, because they’re still alive.
The thing (Druid???) hums a considering note. “No, I bet you aren’t. Not with the other Paladin out there.”
What? he skids to a stop, whirling around to where he last saw the maybe-Druid. The glow is nowhere to be seen. “Hey! Over here, idiot!”
“Oh I know where you are,” the voice whispers, suddenly behind him. Keith ducks instinctively but something still slams into him right between his shoulder blades and he tumbles forward, undoubtedly knocking his jetpack out of commission by the screech of metal and plastic and the sharp spike of utter pain in his back before it's smothered by an icy knot of dovra. He gasps for air. “You care about them, don’t you?”
“Kap nel,” he grinds out, trying to scuttle away. A boot lands on his leg. He kicks it with his other. It takes more effort than it should. The boot lifts, but he gets the impression its owner doesn’t particularly care that they just got kicked.
“My, you are an interesting one, little Paladin. Something about you feels so familiar.” Keith rolls out of the way of another step and cloaks himself in blackness again. Not that it probably matters, because by the way they’re talking he’s pretty sure this is a Druid. A flash of pink races by his head; his hair stands on end from the static even through his armor. Everything hurts in a way that dovra can’t deal with.
He gets the feeling they’re toying with him.
“What would you do if your friends came in that door, Paladin?”
Another flash of pink. Keith barely dodges it, hissing at the heat along his side.
“Would you do what he did, and step in front of them?”
Keith rolls under a half-full shelf, spots something weird, and suddenly doesn’t have time to think about it because there’s a spike of pink coming straight at him. He dodges. He isn’t fast enough. Pain followed by icy dovra lances through his side, and somehow his back feels even worse.
“Or would you do what she did, and come for vengeance?”
Keith struggles to stand in the sudden silence. The Druid is gone, he doesn’t know where, and he’s standing between the shelves a little ways away from the door.
The door slides open.
Krolia charges through, quickly followed by Kolivan and Lotor.
The Druid audibly smiles, voice echoing from nowhere. “Let’s see, shall we?”
“This shouldn’t be taking so long,” Krolia hisses. Kolivan’s face is unreadable under his mask, but his body language is stiff and controlled, a clear hint that he’s feeling something. “Kolivan.”
“Give him a dobash, Krolia.”
“We have. Ping him, Kolivan, and if he doesn’t answer I’m opening the door, security or not.”
“Krolia, you can’t just--”
“I am not leaving him, Kolivan.”
“General--”
“You made the decision to bring me on this mission, Kolivan. You knew EXACTLY what he is to me. And you knew if it came to this point I would choose him over anything else. Ping him, or I’m breaking down the door.”
“I already did, and he answered no.”
She stares at him in shock. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Because I do know exactly who he is, Krolia, and I won’t have you destroying what little is left of this mission if Keith can get out of there on his own. Give him a dobash.”
Krolia opens her mouth to yell at him when every hair on her arms stands on end and an all-too-familiar buzzing echoes in her ears. Next to them, Lotor flinches. “He doesn’t have a dobash,” Lotor murmurs, looking towards the storage room with something other than sight. “Generals, I don’t know what that is, but it--I can’t--it’s back.”
Kolivan is visibly shocked. “What? I thought you said it wasn't close.”
Krolia steps up to the door, slams in her code, and when the door only hisses slightly open wrenches it with all her strength. Nothing is visible beyond it, not even Keith (her Keith, she will NOT let this Druid take him) , but her entire being is screaming at her that she needs to run, and the buzzing in her ears is louder than ever, so much like that fateful day she ran from Kunanmora, like the Witch on her heels, like something that wants nothing more than to devour--
So she runs, right into the darkness ahead. Kolivan and Lotor power after her, but she is faster, stronger, and more powerful than she should be, her voice is a weapon and she’s about to use it, she can hear the currents in the air, hear the sudden empty spot where something is moving along filaments and a dark figure appears in front of Kolivan, sickly pink corrupted quintessence dripping from its claws as it slashes.
She moves.
Keith is faster.
He bolts out of the shadows towards Kolivan, moving just a little faster than he should, slamming the Blade General out of the way and taking the full brunt of the strike across his stomach. He collapses to his knees, blood spilling with the corruption, choking. Krolia screams, wordless, aching, vibrating just a little too much and the Druid stumbles, turning to stare at her.
Five eyes in the shape of the Crest of Marmora stare back at her. “You.”
“MARZIN!” she yells.
And the world stops.
Everything stands frozen but her, Keith mid choke on his own blood, Kolivan reaching for him from the ground, Lotor wide-eyed and shocked, the Druid, the Druid that she knows all too well staring at her.
Why did it stop?
She asks the question, but something instinctive is already moving, already wishing for the hands of time to turn back even though it’s a futile endeavor.
Except
it
works
Kolivan and Lotor power after her, but she is faster, stronger, and more powerful than she should be, her voice is a weapon and she’s about to use it, she can hear the currents in the air, hear the sudden empty spot where something is moving along filaments and she yells “Kolivan, move!” A dark figure appears in front of Kolivan, sickly pink corrupted quintessence dripping from her claws as she slashes, but she is already moving, except this time so is Kolivan, but so is Keith.
He bolts out of the shadows towards Kolivan, moving just a little faster than he should, slamming the Blade General out of the way and taking a glancing blow across his side. He stumbles and drops his blade, but still has the sense to twist out of the follow-up. Kolivan pulls him out of the way and levels his gun at the Druid, unloading directly into where her face was.
Of course, the Druid growls and teleports out of the way, but now that Krolia’s seen her, now that she knows her, she knows how to handle it. Krolia points her gun at where she can hear the corruption in the filaments and fires. The Druid hisses, holding a hand to her shoulder before she disappears again.
“That’s no way to greet a friend,” echoes through the room.
“Fuck off, Marzin,” she barks back. One gesture has Lotor and Kolivan closing ranks around Keith, who already looks worse for wear. She can tell that even the glancing blow is already ripping through his system, the corruption making to devour him from the inside. “Get him out of here, Kolivan.”
“That’s Marzin?” Lotor hisses.
“You know her?” Krolia asks.
“I know she’s the Witch’s right hand.”
“Yeah, which is why it’s important to get him out of here before she tries to come back.” She pointedly steps towards Kolivan, who nods and moves towards Keith.
“I can stand,” Keith growls, but his voice is shaky. One hand is pressed to his side, the other to his ear. “What the fuck is that sound?”
“What so--shit.” Krolia grabs the nearest person, who happens to be Lotor, and pulls him to the ground with her. Keith drops like a rock at the same time she does, forcibly taking Kolivan with him, and pink lightning flashes through where their heads were.
“Krolia!”
“I,” ready, “said,” listen, “fuck,” aim, “off!” fire. Marzin manages to get out of the way of her shots, teleporting to right above them, where Lotor is already swinging his sword. Kolivan rolls out of the way of the weapon; Marzin catches it in a corrupted hand. Keith gasps at the impact of a boot on his chest. Krolia growls and swings a leg up to tangle it in Marzin’s legs, but the Druid is faster and steps onto Keith’s other side. She kicks Kolivan in the face before he can move, topping him backwards with a pained grunt. Krolia senses the next move by the buildup of corruption in the Druid’s hand and scrambles out of the way, Lotor bolting in the other direction and Keith rolling closer for some reason. Marzin steps on his hand and reaches for Krolia just as she stands up, managing to knock the gun out of her hand. She hisses, stepping back.
Five empty eyes stare through her. She takes another step back, hoping to at least lead this Druid away from Keith, and kicks something. That’s when she notices Keith is doing far more than just lying there, typing something on his gauntlet computer with one hand and reaching for her dropped blaster with the other. Marzin’s attention is fully focused on her; if she can keep it there, he can do whatever he’s planning. Lotor is looking between her and something in the shelves. She jerks her head towards the shelves and he nods, bolting into the darkness. Marzin twists towards Lotor for a fraction of a moment and Krolia takes her chance. A tricky set of footwork snaps the object she kicked up into her hand and she roars. “Marzin!”
Marzin’s attention snaps back to her just in time to catch the sword on a corruption-filled hand. “Sneaky as always.”
“I aim to please.”
Krolia takes a step back, disengaging the sword in her hand (Keith’s blade, her blade) from the lock and swinging it through a nearby shelf. Objects topple to the ground in a cacophony of noises, but Marzin barely cares, lunging forward with dripping claws. Krolia catches them on her sword and feels the familiar clang of metal on metal. She’s only half aware of Kolivan nodding and practically tip-toeing towards something on the wall just out of her sight. Marzin feints to her left and swipes upward; Krolia backpedals and swings under her guard, managing to do no more than knick her robe. Marzin steps back and winds up, throwing a bolt of corruption at her. Krolia dives behind another shelf, grabs the next one in line, climbs up it in two steps, and flips. As predicted, Marzin had been coming towards her; now she’s the one coming down behind the Druid. Marzin turns to block it, but suddenly the room is full of blinding light and emergency alarms, the cacophony throwing them both off for a critical moment. Krolia’s momentum is unturnable, though. The slash digs into the Druid’s shoulder and she hisses, teleporting somewhere out of the way.
“Kolivan!” Krolia yells over the alarms. Keith must have turned them on with a little help from Kolivan.
“I’ve got the data. Where’s Lotor?”
“I think he went to get the stone!”
“He did,” Keith grinds out from the floor. “And I’ve got us a way out of here.” One button press has it appearing on all their gauntlets. “No use--ah--for stealth now.”
“Don’t you dare say you’re okay,” Kolivan growls at him. “Krolia, where’s the Druid?”
She glances around as she listens. “Don’t know. I’m going to check on--” the filaments shift in disharmony and she can hear it, the corruption of the Druid moving and she whirls, slicing upwards, but Marzin is just too far away, and there’s something else, overwhelming power, drowning out all the noise in the room and choking off her air--
Two shots ring out, and suddenly Marzin is gone with a scream and the smell of burnt flesh. Krolia stares at where she was for a moment before turning towards the source of the shots. Kolivan’s gun is only half raised. Keith has her gun in hand, balanced on his other arm and knee, aimed directly at where Marzin had been standing. “I think that was the straightest shot you’ve ever managed,” Kolivan says, bemused.
Keith gasps out a laugh. “I’m not-- ah--that bad with a--a gun. I think--think I hit--some--thing--import--” he wobbles, “Import--ant--”
Kolivan darts forward and manages to prevent him faceplanting into the floor. “Keithva!”
Krolia is by his side in ticks. What she sees has her sucking in a harsh breath. “By the stars, Keith.” There are three harsh claw marks running from the bottom of his jetpack to his hips, oozing blood and glowing with corrupted quintessence. A quick tap releases his mask, revealing pale skin and a pinched expression. Even through her gloves, his forehead is hot.
Kolivan looks up at her. “How long can he withstand that much corrupted quintessence?”
“With a full connection to a Lion? A few quintants. Without one…” she trails off. It’s not a number she wants to contemplate.
Lotor skids into the small clear portion of the floor they’re standing in. “Oh by the stars,” he whispers.
“Did you get it?”
Lotor pats a belt pouch as he stands by them. “Orders, General?”
Krolia moves to pick Keith up, but Kolivan lays a hand on her arm. “I’ll take him. We’re going to need you two on point and rear in case that Druid comes back.”
“Kolivan--”
“Krolia. If you want to get him out of here in one piece, you need to lead. You knew that Druid; you have full command on everything but the decision of who is carrying Keith.”
She takes a deep breath. “Fine. Okay.” Anything to get Keith to help quicker. “Lotor, you’re our best early warning system. You take point. I’ll take rear. Follow the path Keith laid out as best we can, get a Nai, and get out of here.”
“Honestly, Sir? The compass stone is buffeting my senses almost as much as Keith does. I’m not sure I can sense the Druid accurately with both of them around. I was already having trouble with him and you.”
Krolia rolls her eyes. She knows the question Lotor wants to ask, and she’ll give him the answer herself as soon as they’re out of here. “Of course. Fine. I’ll take point, you take rear. Let’s go. We’ve still got an entire ship to run through, which now definitely knows we’re here.”
As Ryan would say, whoop-de-fucking-do.
Chapter 8: A Dream Still Worth Saving
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Chapter Text
“Milady, you require medical assistance--”
“Stop,” Marzin snarls at the sentry command unit, “it doesn’t matter where that little laar shot me, he can’t kill me. Get the guard forces out there, we’ve got to at least look like we’re stopping them.”
“Milady?”
“Oh now you decide to question my orders with all that networked intelligence? Get Ya and Thee companies out there along the shortest route to the hangar, and send Am to the storage core like they’re responding to all those kaping alarms. Now.”
The sentry turns and follows, joining its brethren running through the ship. Marzin limps off, nursing the burn along her stomach and the one that almost shattered her mask, its remnants burning on her cheek. It was a lucky shot, that the Paladin knew where she was going to be, even as she was lashing out at the other she’d almost died to back on Karuta. But to hit or graze two important places in the span of barely two seconds…
Oh.
So he’s what she sensed.
Marzin smiles and limps her way onto the bridge. She’ll have something a little more interesting to report at the end of all this.
Krolia ducks back around the corner when she sees at least five blasters pointed at her face. They barely miss. Behind her, Keith on his shoulders, Kolivan glances back at Lotor. “They still back there?”
Lotor nods and pants out, “Whole platoon at least. Maybe a full company in total.”
“Front isn’t much better,” Krolia adds, flinching away from the renewed fire. “Sorta wishing I had a Spirit right about now.”
Kolivan grunts and shifts Keith a bit. “Give it long enough and I’m sure the Red Lion will come crashing through, but I’m not sure he actually has that long.”
Krolia frowns and looks up at Keith. She can’t quite hear it over the firefight around her, but his breathing seems stilted. “We can’t stay here. Lotor, I want you to take a little jaunt through the vents and see if you can come out on the other side of this set of sentries. They must be fully networked, so the more we can take down individually, the better we’ll do as we get closer to the hangar. I’ll come around the corner and give you a distraction.”
Lotor nods and takes two steps back so he can jump into the vents. Krolia gives him a five count after his legs disappear, then whirls around the corner. She dashes across the hallway, kicks off the wall, and dives for their feet. A spinning sweep knocks one down where she can swing her blade through its gun. Two more fire at her. She rolls back towards the intersection, pushing herself back to her feet just as Lotor drops down on the other side of them. Two fall to a single swing of his blade. Half the sentries turn to face him, while Krolia faces off with the other half. “Ten against one, huh? I’ve faced worse odds.”
The sentries do not respond to banter. They fire a spreading pattern that forces her down to the ground, swinging her blade up to cover her face. One shot bounces off the marthuzitok as she darts forward, zinging into the floor. Then she’s between the sentries, slashing upward through three arms at once, their armor nothing compared to the steel of the stars in her hand. One squawks a warning noise, but it does nothing against her. Two more fall with their torso processing units in pieces. Another gets hit in the crossfire, topping backwards and stumbling another. That one manages to graze her right hand in its wild flailing, making her hand spasm and drop her sword. Growling, she steps forward and releases her claws, stabbing right through its optical sensors before ripping its torso to pieces.
Lotor, the final sentry dropping into three pieces behind him, stares at her from across the mechanical carnage. “Did you destroy that one with your claws?”
“Yeah.”
“And… you’re okay??”
She holds up her hand in answer and retrieves the marthuzitok blade. “A little metal means nothing to me.”
A curious look passes over his face before he turns away and seals his mask again. “How many companies did you say are probably on this ship? A regular Divik can handle ten.”
“Probably no more than four, if the one above Karuta was any indication.”
“Great. Three and nine-tenths companies to go.”
“Lady Marzin, you requested to be informed when the intruders passed Cold Storage Five.”
Marzin turns in her chair to look at the display the sentry has activated next to her. “Perfect. I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t give the sentry an opportunity to acknowledge, teleporting (shakily, the worm did get her good) down to Cold Storage Five. She can sense the intruders nearby, both by the sense of the former Blue Paladin’s quintessence and the distant sounds of blasterfire. Before her is the door, locked to all but a Druid’s command code (or that Paladin’s, apparently. How a Colonel managed to get a full command code, she’ll have to look into). But for now, she has people to chase off her ship.
“Milady,” the sentry’s bland robotic voice comes in her ear, “we are obliged to warn you that Lady Ludna will not be happy with what you are about to do.”
“I’ll get Kreles to make her a new one.” Not that this thing deserves to even still exist; it's no good as more than a mere distraction, and she doesn't expect it to slow them down long. That Paladin will be doing her a favor. She stabs the keys; the door beeps and hisses, releasing frigid air into the corridor from a small crack. “Stars, I hate cold storage.” Muttering under her breath, Marzin steps in.
Kolivan shoots the last sentry that’s following them and stops for breath. Krolia and Lotor are a little ways ahead, hacking their way through yet another set of sentries. They’re well occupied, so Kolivan leans against the wall for a moment. He’s getting too old for this.
Shifting on his back snaps his attention to his passenger. “Keith?”
Keith shifts again, a pained noise coming out of his mouth. “‘K’san, ‘ind…”
He can’t figure out what that was supposed to be, Galran or English. “Keith?”
“‘s beh’nd. Lo’d.”
“What? Keith, what are you talking about?”
“Behind,” Keith manages, the urgency in his slurred voice apparent even if Kolivan is only half-getting the English. “Loud.”
“Behind? There’s nothing…” Kolivan trails off, looking into the corridor behind them. If there was anything behind them, one of them would have spotted it by now. “You’re just hearing the alarm, Keith.”
“N’t ‘larm. Loud.”
Kolivan considers the corridor once again, then the young Blade on his back. It occurs to him that it’s quite possible Keith, one of the last Marmorait, is hearing something worse than a few sentries.
A sense of dread creeps up his spine. “Krolia!”
Krolia whirls at the shout of her name. Kolivan is charging up the corridor towards them, something about him almost panicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you hear anything behind us?”
“What?” she manages, ducking under a sentry’s swinging arm and bringing her blade up through it.
“Keith woke up long enough to tell me there’s something loud behind us, and I can’t hear it!”
Krolia opens her mouth to tell him he’s probably just hearing the corruption in his own system, but pauses. If that were true, Keith wouldn’t have specified behind. Rolling under another strike into a pocket of open space, Krolia looks down the corridor and listens. “Oh kap.”
Kolivan drops a sentry trying to sneak up on her; thankfully it’s the last one in their immediate vicinity. “What do you hear?”
“It doesn’t sound like Marzin does, it’s not as loud, but it’s definitely there.”
“Another Druid?”
“No,” Lotor pants, “I can hear it now. That’s not a Druid, too weak. Feels more like whatever’s in the experiment rooms.”
Kolivan takes a deep breath. “Alright. We’re still maybe ten minutes of flat-out running from the hangar, and that’s if we don’t run into any sentries, which we will. Do we stand and deal with this thing now, or run and hope we don’t run into it at the same time?”
Krolia looks between Lotor, far more exhausted than her without her faint connection to the Spirit of Water, and Kolivan, leaning against the wall with an unconscious and critically injured Keith on his back. “We have to run for it. Any time we sit here waiting for something we don’t know where exactly it is is less time Keith has, and more time for Marzin to decide to come back and deal with us herself.”
Kolivan nods grimly. “Okay. The next left will bring us to a straight shot to the secondary hangar that should have something we can steal.”
“Assuming, of course, that Marzin hasn’t ordered everything off the ship.”
He huffs a tired laugh. “There is that.”
“Lotor, you lead. I’ll keep an ear on whatever’s back there.”
“Got it.”
The hangar is almost in sight when Krolia shivers, the vibration in the filaments right behind her. Lotor stumbles at almost the exact same time. Kolivan only realizes when Keith shifts on his back again, mumbling something incoherent. “Krolia?”
“Kolivan, Lotor, get in the hangar, find us something with a hyperdrive. A Nai, preferably.”
“Krolia--”
“Go,” she orders, plants her feet, and swings the blade in her hand up through where she can sense the filaments vibrating discordantly. It’s blocked, something big and fast catching it with its axe and a roar. Krolia quickly steps back, swinging her sword to block high, low, high, side, side, high, before a strike slams through her guard. It glances off her arm, the sheer power behind it enough to knock her to the floor. She rolls, coming up on her feet automatically in a guard stance, and finally gets a good look at the thing.
She blinks.
“Ranveig?”
Mardukayt markings line the face of the galra before her, a big nose and a square jaw underneath them, with mükir-morph ears framing it all. It looks like General Ranveig. The guttural roar that comes from his mouth and lumbering step are not Ranveig. Nor is the sense of discordance, filaments around her stuttering with corruption, something in it dragging this twisted experiment into obedience.
“Well,” she mutters, “I guess I know why you disappeared now.”
Poor Ranveig roars at her again and lunges. Krolia darts to the side and rips a bloody streak through his arm. His backswing is longer than she judged; she’s barely able to get her arm in the way, earning a matching gash on it. Krolia backpedals a few steps, blocking above her head each chop of a short axe coming down on her. The corruption must’ve stolen more than his sanity; this is almost easy. A feint right lets her charge left, slicing out and carving a deep cut into Ranveig’s side as she heads for the hangar door. He bellows and follows.
Inside, Kolivan has the ramp to a Nai half-open, his fingers in an outside control box and undoubtedly muttering under his breath wishing Vanab were with them. Lotor is by his side, standing over where Kolivan set Keith down to work and picking off sentries one by one with what is probably technically her gun. Lotor spots her and gestures at a set of sentries. She gives him a thumbs up and changes course.
According to plan, so does Ranveig behind her. She doesn’t even need to raise her sword against the sentries before Ranveig is barreling through them, axe swinging through those that aren’t instantly crushed. She can’t see Lotor’s face behind his mask, but she’s absolutely sure it’s incredulous. “Get in the ship!”
“I’m trying-- there we go. Come on!”
Kolivan turns to haul Keith in the ship and Lotor backs up the ramp, shooting sentries that attempt to follow. “Lotor!” Krolia calls, “little help?”
Lotor shoots one last sentry and shifts targets. One lands directly on Ranveig’s prosthetic eye. He roars and stumbles, allowing Krolia to get just far enough ahead she can turn and brace. Ranveig impales himself on her marthuzitok blade. He gurgles for a moment, swinging weakly at her. Krolia pulls the blade out and steps back. The sickly pink in his eyes dims and slithers away, the corruption soaking into the floor. Krolia wipes the blood off her sword on a stray sentry part and dashes up the ramp. She barely spares Kolivan a glance as she passes him, swinging herself into the pilot chair and activating the repulsorlifts. A horrible screeching noise echoes through the ship. “The hell was that?”
“That thing’s last gasp,” Lotor answers from the cockpit door. “Tried to claw the door off. I shot it.”
“Get in the gunner's chair,” she points at it. As soon as Lotor’s seated, she pulls back on the stick, and the ship shoots out into space, burning Ranveig’s remains with the afterglow.
Right into what looks like half the ship’s complement of Zraizrüpsae-class starfighters.
“Oh fuck me.”
She jukes left immediately, sliding under the first barrage of lasers. “Lotor, time to shoot back!”
“Yeah… small problem with that,” Lotor answers as she goes into an evasive corkscrew, “I’m trying. I think this thing was in the secondary hangar for maintenance.”
“Oh fuck me. Hey, Kolivan, you hear that?” she yells, “You managed to get us the one ship without defenses!”
“It wasn’t like I tried,” his voice comes back, “We’re in a hurry!”
Krolia growls, the sound vibrating in the cockpit a little more than it should, but she still hasn’t really figured out how to control it and doesn’t care because that is a lot of ships and she has no lasers. Juking and jinking is only going to get them so much time.
“I have an idea.”
“What?”
Lotor takes a deep breath. “I have an idea. But I’ve never done it before. I don’t know if it will work, or bounce back and destroy me instead. But I’m going to try.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
Lotor doesn’t answer, standing up. “On my signal, get the airlock pointed at the blockade and open the outer door.”
Krolia growls again, but she can’t see any option but to listen.
Lotor drops down next to where Kolivan is sitting with Keith, looking with his quintessence abilities more than his eyes. The corruption is tearing through him, devouring what it needs to continue existing. And Lotor might be the only one that can stop it, and get them out of here at the same time.
“Kolivan, give me your hand.”
Kolivan holds it out, seeming slightly confused. “What are you…” he trails off. Lotor doesn’t pay attention beyond that, too focused on what he needs to do. His other land he lays on the wound on Keith’s side, on the sickly pink glow of corrupted quintessence. He focuses on it, on the tendril of hunger gnawing through. He visualizes it coiled around Keith, and then pulls.
Slowly, steadily, like carving a rock with claws, it moves.
The corrupted quintessence moves out of Keith, into Lotor’s hand, the glow lighting up around his arm, carefully contained between his own tendril and the tendril he can finally, finally confirm is sitting natively in the middle of Keith’s own quintessence until it’s all in him, and he cuts his connection to Keith with a gasp.
Kolivan jerks next to him. “Lotor?”
“Hang on,” he mutters and stumbles towards the airlock. “General Krolia!”
“Ready!”
He can sense the spin around them as Krolia pulls a smuggler’s reverse and then the door opens, three Zraizrüpsae before them. Three ships, enough of a gap to get them home free. Three ships that just need to get knocked a little off course.
Lotor takes a deep breath, raises his arm, and fires.
The corrupted quintessence twined around his arm lances out and tears through the wings of two of the ships, sending one careening into the third.
Lotor barely manages to close the hatch again before Krolia is spinning them right back around, blasting for open space. He stumbles over to the wall where Kolivan is sitting and slides down.
And then they’re in hyperspace, with the compass stone in his pocket and a treasure trove of data in Kolivan’s, worse for wear but alive.
Chapter 9: Bathed in Silence (And Thoughts of You)
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Chapter Text
Krolia breathes a sigh of relief as the swirl of hyperspace stretches into existence around them. “We’re clear. Somehow.”
Kolivan steps up behind her. “I’ll take us back from here.”
“Kolivan--”
“Lotor got the corruption out.”
Krolia blinks at him. “What?”
“That’s how he got rid of those fighters. He--I guess it’s because he’s Marmorait, he was able to manipulate the corrupted quintessence and blast it at them. Keith’s stabilized, but we’ve still got to get him back to base soon.”
Krolia sags with relief, hands covering her face. “Thank the stars.”
Kolivan places a hand on her shoulder. “Go sit with him, Kroliaka.”
He’s cheating, using the diminutive, but he’s also right about what she truly wants to be doing right now. She sighs again and stands, letting Kolivan take the pilot’s chair. “How long will it take for us to get back?”
“No more than a few vargas. I’ll keep the redirection jumps short.”
She blinks at him. “The risk--”
“He’s worth it.” They stare at each other for a long moment. There’s a lot in that simple statement. He’s worth it. Getting Keith to treatment is worth the risk to Morakiluide, to the hundreds of people there, and the hundreds in the Blade that rely on it. Perhaps the reasoning could be chalked up to the fact that he’s a Paladin, former or not, and they need him for relations to Voltron. Perhaps it can be attributed to his already legendary status if the rumors within the Empire mean anything; she’s heard tales of the second coming of the Druizraizrüpsae (a title previously attributed to her).
But Kolivan had yelled Keithva, and that means more than anything else.
“Besides,” he adds, pointedly looking at her bloody arm before turning to the controls, “he isn’t the only one hurting.”
Krolia manages a wry smile. “At least I’ll get to say hi to Komuv.”
“He’s not on Morakiluide; Taeraar got promoted.”
“Where’d he go?”
“Requested transfer to Daelkir when Nazik took over.”
She nods as she heads out of the cockpit. “That actually makes sense. He’s always been too much of a doting alaemora. Tell me when we’re inbound.”
Kolivan doesn’t bother responding as she’s already out the door. It slides shut behind her and she ducks through to the tiny cargo space in the middle of the fighter-freighter. Lotor looks up and nods; she nods back, but her attention is more focused on the young Blade with his head resting on Lotor’s knee. She kneels in front of them, hesitantly reaching towards Keith. His face is pale and scrunched in discomfort, even unconscious, curled up slightly to protect himself. Lotor or Kolivan must have found something in the few cargo boxes to wrap the three gashes ripping down his back as they’re now covered in blue fabric sluggishly turning red. Never more in the chaos of the past few vargas has she wished to be wearing her Paladin armor with its medical suite. At least there’s nothing of the sickly pink dripping with the blood. “How is he?”
“No change.”
Lotor sounds exhausted. Krolia looks up at him. “And you?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never tried to do that before. I’m honestly surprised it worked.”
“A half-altean Marmorait has powerful abilities. You saved his life.”
Lotor looks down at Keith. “Just returning the favor.”
She smiles, then belatedly realizes she’s still wearing her helmet and he can’t see it. She takes it off and sets it by her side. “I’m unsurprised. He’s always been so much like his father.” Krolia finally reaches out and traces gentle fingers through Keith’s hair, brushing away strands stuck to his forehead with shaky fingers.
She can’t believe he’s here. It’s finally hitting her again now that they’re not in the middle of a Druid ship, not running for their lives. Keith is in front of her, her child is in front of her, proud and fierce and grown up and a Paladin when she left him safe on Earth, far far away from all of this, everything she’d never wanted him to live through. He’s a capable commander and warrior in his own right if arguing Kolivan into agreeing to stay on the ship is evidence enough (and doesn’t that sound like someone), along with the half-mentioned fact he’s in charge of her Whispers now, but he wasn’t supposed to be here.
But he is. He is, and he’s got a connection to the Spirit of Fire, and too much of his father in him.
She’s snapped out of her musings by Lotor making a humming noise. “You are Marmorait.”
Krolia brings her hands across her chest in a cross before pulling them down to her ribs. “Krolia, Kisekmet Marmorait, Third General of the Blade of Marmora, and former Blue Paladin of Voltron. And,” she tilts her head towards Keith, “his mom.”
Processing that revelation and the short explanation she gives seems to take the last of Lotor’s energy. He slumps against the bulkhead shortly; Krolia can’t blame him for that. She settles down on Keith’s other side, one hand gentle on his shoulder, just feeling the expansion of his breath under his armor that did so very little.
Did so very little twice.
She hasn’t had a moment to process it since it happened, and even now in the quiet dark of the ship she’s not sure she can. What, exactly, even happened? Why would Marzin do such a thing? Was it even Marzin? Was it something else in that storage room? Did it actually happen twice, or was she somehow seeing the future?
Was it her?
(--ancient alchemy and dark creatures from another realm and a corrupted wormhole and a sharp feeling of devouring, devouring devouring--)
It can’t have been her.
But whatever that power was, it had responded to her desperate desire to save him, to turn back the hands of time just enough to warn Kolivan and affect where Keith was going to dive. It had responded to her.
It’s not a power any Spirit has shown, but she knows enough of Daibazaal’s old myths to put a name to it. And she doesn’t like what she comes up with.
Perhaps she has wished too hard.
But she can’t dwell on that, not with Keith still injured and the data and stone he risked his life for not yet within Coalition hands. She can think about it later (or never).
Krolia forces it out of her mind and thinks instead about what she’s going to say to Keith when he wakes up, and the voice words she is going to give Kolivan at the end of all this. She doesn’t move for the entirety of the few vargas it takes to get back to Morakiluide. Krolia feels the vibrations as they drop out of hyperspace for brief moments to obscure their course and likely send a message to Morakiluide to expect injured. Then they drop out and Kolivan appears in the doorway. “I’m assuming you want the hard part. We’ve only got half a varga before the path closes. Predictions have it closed barely a quintant, but I doubt we can wait that long.”
She stands. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Of course.”
Krolia settles back into the pilot chair and gazes out at Marthinazik and the twin black holes slowly tearing it apart. Nestled within the twisting turns of three sets of gravity waves is Morakiluide. Home, even if she barely spent any time on this version before she took her latest mission. A few quick taps on the sensor board has her displays overlaid with the outlines of the gravity waves. The path is visible, a single curved line arcing around Marthinazik, just barely starting to tear itself apart as the frequencies of the black holes converge once again. She pulls the controls back and the ship moves, sliding neatly into the funnel of waves that guides them onto the path. This is simple, soothing, a task she’s done dozens of times before in any number of fighters. She was a pilot before anything else.
The curve brings them to the single stable eddy within Marthinazik’s chaotic well. “Morakiluide Control, this is General Krolia requesting permission to dock.”
“Clearance confirmed, General,” a familiar voice answers. “Medical team is already on standby in hangar one, and I think General Kozur is with them. Welcome home.”
“Good to hear a dock controller I actually like,” she teases as she slides the ship into Morakiluide’s main hangar. “The Imperial ones are insufferable.”
Garnak audibly rolls their eyes. “That’s what you get for a long-term mission. Head towards the port entrance.”
“Kozur’s waving me over. Talk to you later, Garnak.”
“Copy that. Control out.”
Krolia settles the ship on its landing gear next to the medical team and Kozur. She opens the hatch and then makes quick work of shutting the ship down. She’s out in time to see the medical team guiding Keith and Lotor out, Kolivan limping after them.
She’s not in time to avoid the barking wolf bearing down on her. Yorak teleports and slams into her full force, causing her to lose her balance and hit the deck with all of Yorak’s considerable weight on her. “Hey, buddy,” she laughs, “good to see you too.” Yorak barks happily, licking at her face and dancing around on top of her. She buries her face in his fur for a moment, petting her hands through the shock of metallic blue on his back.
“Come on, Yorak, you gotta let her up.”
Krolia pulls her face away as Yorak whines and steps off her. Kozur sticks a hand out and she takes it, letting the other pull her up only to find herself pulled into a crushing hug. “Kozur--can’t breathe--”
Kozur pulls back only enough xe can hold her by the shoulders and shake her. “By the kaping stars, Krolia, never do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Leave! Kolivan was a mess!”
She would cross her arms if Kozur wasn’t hanging onto them. “It was a necessary placement.”
“That you volunteered for to avoid actually communicating with Kolivan.”
“He was being a stubborn idiot!”
“So were you! And he was moping! Never make me deal with a moping Kolivan ever again!” Kozur releases her arms to rub the heels of xer hands into xer eyes. “Ugh, whatever, he said he was pulling you out because he knew what needed to be done, which means at least he’ll start the communication this time, even if I have to drop-kick him.”
“Wait, he what?”
“Come on,” Kozur says, grabbing only one of her arms this time and starting to drag her with Yorak on their heels, “I see the blood on your arm, and I’m absolutely sure you want to see Keith even more than I do.”
“I’m not letting you off the hook here, Kozur.”
“I am not on any hook,” xe shoots back, “it’s not my place to explain what goes through Kolivan’s mind.”
Krolia sighs. “Fine. For now.” She lets xem drag her the entire way to the infirmary. They burst into the usual controlled chaos, the front filled with the usual minor ailments a military base sees. Four künantok she only vaguely recognizes from news reports are in the back talking to Lotor who is resting on a bed. Kolivan is sitting on a bed nearby, Vanab standing in front of him. Krolia immediately beelines for them. “Where is he?”
Vanab points at one of the nearby operating rooms. “Taeraar’s getting him patched up. Good to see you.”
She nods at him and crosses her arms as she looks at Kolivan. “We got time for my explanation now?”
He sighs. “We’ve got a few things to finish after that mission, but yes, I will give you the rest of the explanation as soon as I am able.”
“Right. Do you still have the data?” Yorak reacts to her hand’s movement and nuzzles against her leg; she obliges him with pets.
Kozur raises an eyebrow. “You got data?”
“Keith got data,” Kolivan responds, digging it out of his belt and handing it to xem, “It’s all heavily encoded from what little I saw, so we have no idea what on it could be useful, but given what else we found, there’s bound to be something.”
“What else did you find?”
“Lotor,” Kolivan twists to call to him.
The former prince levers himself into more of a sitting position with a little help from the broad-shouldered künantok. “Sir?”
“Give it to Vanab.”
Lotor twists to dig through his armor’s pockets and retrieves the one thing that was worth everything. Vanab takes it with an odd look. “A rock? No, wait, is this--?”
Lotor nods. “The compass stone.”
Vanab and Kozur’s mouths drop open. “Holy fuck,” Vanab says (in English, with very bad pronunciation, what has Keith been teaching him?), staring at it.
“Well,” Kozur muses, stunned, “I guess I can forgive the kitok his recklessness this time.”
“Keep it safe. I will call Voltron and inform them as soon as Taeraar lets me off this bed.”
“Uh, General Krolia?”
She turns to find a medic timidly looking up at her. “Yes?”
“Commander Taeraar was very insistent I take a look at you when you came in.”
“Fine,” she sighs, sitting down next to Kolivan and sticking her arm out.
Kozur ruffles Yorak’s mane. “Come on, buddy, you and I are going to take this to ZNTH and tell the Whispers who’s back before Taeraar sees we let you in here.” Yorak barks, steps forward from Kozur to nuzzle against Krolia’s legs, then teleports away. Kozur sighs. “Or you can do that.”
Vanab facepalms. “I’ll put this away and go make sure he’s not causing chaos. But if he’s in the vents we’re going to have to hope Keith wakes up soon.”
“We’re hoping for that anyway.”
Kolivan reaches over and squeezes her hand. She lets him hold it in on their thighs, a soft point of contact after so long. “Yes, we are.”
“You’re late.”
Marzin bows in apology. “I ran into an unexpected opportunity, Your Majesty.”
Haggar raises an eyebrow under her hood. “An opportunity?”
“I believe Project Kuron will be granting us the coordinates of Oriande within the next two movements.”
A slow smile spreads across Haggar’s face. “Very good, Marzin. I can excuse the lateness. Come, we have work to do for Project Vessel in light of this.”
Marzin does not move. Haggar narrows her eyes. “Something else.”
“The Red Paladin was one of the intruders aboard the Uduke, Your Majesty. And I discovered something very interesting…”
“Lotor got the corruption out of his system as far as we can tell, but it had already done a good ravaging. Lotor’s also fairly certain he had to basically induce quintessence drain in Keith to get the corruption out, so he’s going to be fatigued for at least the rest of the movement when he wakes up,” Taeraar informs as she leads Krolia into the room Keith is now settled in. “It’ll take him two movements to get back up to training, and I want him on medical leave for at least a phoeb. All in all, though, he’ll come out of this with just a nasty scar.”
“Thank you, Taeraar.”
“Hey,” Taeraar says, clapping a companionable hand to her shoulder just outside the door, “I’d do a lot for the kitok. My job is the least of it.” She taps the open button and gestures Krolia in before her. “He’ll wake up in a quintant or two, though I don’t know how many given he’s the only half-human künantok we know of. Before I leave you here, though, I do have a question…”
Krolia gets the feeling she’s going to be answering this a lot. “He’s my kid.”
Taeraar looks between her and Keith unconscious on the bed for a moment. “Everything makes so much sense.”
Taeraar probably says something else, but Krolia doesn’t process it as she pulls a chair over and settles in by Keith’s bedside. He’s still pale, the lavender sheets washing him out, long black hair sticking to his skin, and face pinched in pain now that the dovra that had been keeping him going is gone. She barely hears the door close behind Taeraar.
Stars, what is she supposed to do?
She ends up reaching for his hand, the one she’d seen wrapped around her marthuzitok blade that left no doubt to his identity. “Hey, Keith,” she whispers, “I missed you.”
Chapter 10: Awake With Memories
Chapter by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)
Notes:
happy birthday Keith, here's some fluff before i post string theory, because you Will Not enjoy that ;)
this is somehow the longest chapter? I've had it written for like three months I think, so i guess that makes sense.
Chapter Text
Krolia sits in Keith’s room for vargas. The four künantok she’d seen talking with Lotor come in and introduce themselves: Axca, Narti, Ezor, and Zethrid, Lotor’s former primary generals and current closest friends. She doesn’t understand why they seem to care about Keith almost as much as Lotor until she remembers Kolivan attached the five of them to the Whispers, and that seemingly the entire base has a soft spot for him. Kozur and Vanab both stop by with quick bits of news, as do Taeraar and Garnak. At one point Lotor enters the room and sits in quiet solidarity before Kolivan calls for him from the door. Kolivan himself comes in and tells her that he’s sending Lotor to Voltron with the compass stone. It’s a good decision, even if it means Kolivan is busy for the next few vargas coordinating and planning, and catching up on everything that happened while he was off base. He presses a gentle kiss into her hair. “He’ll be okay.”
“I know.” Kolivan leaves after passing a gentle hand through Keith’s hair. Krolia continues sitting.
The door bursts open and Krolia startles, dropping Keith’s hand and instinctively going for the blade no longer at her back before she realizes who burst in the door and who is now bodily lifting her out of her chair from the force of her hug. “General!”
“Bersaan, let her breathe, stars.”
Krolia laughs as soon as she has breath back in her. “Hey, Bersaan.” Raykob claps her shoulder before pulling her into a slightly less strong hug. Mosov nods from Keith’s other side. Krolia frowns at the missing face. “Where’s Raskova?”
The three of them look at the floor, and Krolia’s heart breaks a bit. “Rejoined the stars,” Mosov murmurs.
Krolia sits down heavily. “Kap.”
Raykob shakes her head. “She made her choice, and it saved the rest of us. No more honorable way out than that.”
“What did she do?”
“Held off a Druid. There weren’t supposed to be any on the ship, but… well. We got out with what we went in for. And she went out blowing up the ship, so there’s one less Druid in the universe because of her, and that’s something she would be proud of.”
She sighs. “May the stars guide her,” she murmurs. The other three nod in agreement. They sit in a moment of silence before Krolia takes a deep breath. “What have you three been doing?”
“Similar missions to what we had been doing before Raelos kaped everything up. Kolivan split us up for a bit after Raskova, saying we needed a break. Then the Commander showed up.” Raykob nods towards Keith. “He’s damn good.”
Bersaan starts nodding like one of those things Krolia vaguely recalls Ryan calling a bobblehead. “When he first ran into a Druid with us it was insane. There we were, cover blown, deep in enemy territory, Druid chasing after us and we think we are goners. Then the Commander skids to a stop and closes his eyes and we’re like this is the end isn’t it. And he takes his blade from his belt,” Bersaan starts miming in slow motion, dramatically raising her hand with an invisible throwing knife, “and turns around, and throws it at nothing. And the Druid teleports right into it. Wham, straight through its mask and head, like he knew where it was going to teleport. Reminded us of you.”
Krolia snorts. “Well, Bersaan, there’s a reason for that.”
Mosov glances up at her. “He is your kinai.”
Krolia nods in confirmation. Bersaan and Raykob gape at her, then gape at Mosov. “How did you figure that out?”
“Besides the fact she is sitting in the medbay for someone she supposedly has never met before? He is half-human. The same species as the Blue Paladin. There is only one person I can think of that could have birthed him.” Mosov pauses, looking into the distance. “Unless the Empire is crueler than we even know.”
“Trust me, he’s mine,” Krolia drawls.
“Well,” Bersaan grins, “He did have the same mullet when he first showed up.”
Krolia chokes on air.
The Whispers sit with her and Keith until Taeraar kicks them out, at which point they inform her they’ll be waiting on the training deck for her ‘to come kick their asses.’ Kolivan checks on them again, then Taeraar, then Kozur. Vanab informs her when he stops by again that Lotor has successfully made it to Voltron with the compass stone. One less thing to worry about. He also brings her food, at which point she realizes she hasn’t eaten since she left Van Six. Garnak pokes their head in and tells her to get the damn regalia off. Oh, she realizes, still in Imperial armor. With Taeraar’s promise to call her if Keith shows signs of waking, Krolia drags herself to her bunk and puts on the first non-Imperial thing she can grab. No point in putting on her Paladin armor right now without a mission, as much as part of her longs for the normality of her naazonsik.
Morakiluide is just turning into night cycle and Kolivan has just reentered the room when Keith stirs. It’s been almost two quintants. Krolia’s heart catches in her throat as his face scrunches and his head rolls to the side. “Keith?”
Keith makes a disgruntled noise and blinks his eyes open. “Ugh.”
Kolivan looks relieved and possibly vaguely amused. “Good to see you awake, Keithva.”
“Ugh,” Keith grumbles again. He manages to push himself into a sitting position; Krolia can’t help but dart forward and hold him upright as he settles. He shoots her an odd look. “What happened?”
“You stopped a Druid with your body instead of your blade.”
Keith grunts an acknowledgment, poking at the bandages on his back under the plain black clothes Taeraar had replaced his armor with. “I don’t think I meant to.”
“What you meant was to save me. I would still appreciate it if you were a little less reckless in the attempt.” Keith makes a face like they’d had this conversation before and all Krolia can think, once again, is so much like his father. Kolivan merely sighs. “Keith, if Lotor was not with us you would have--”
“I am very aware of the effects of corrupted quintessence, Kolivan,” Keith growls. “Just remind me to thank Lotor--” he breaks off, eyes widening. “The compass stone, Kolivan, the data--”
“Lotor got it back, and it is now in the possession of Voltron. We gave the data to Kozur.”
Keith nods, looking more awake now. “How’d we get out?”
Kolivan gestures at her. “General Krolia here got us out.”
Keith finally turns to her, except she is at a total loss for words. Violet eyes a shade darker than her own stare back at her, the ever so slightly pointed tips of ears peeking out of deep black hair. His jaw is hers, but his nose is Ryan’s and the selfless act is both of them and purely him at the same time and what is she supposed to say?
Kolivan seems to sense her struggle because he squeezes Keith’s shoulder and murmurs, “You have much to talk about,” before he leaves the room.
Keith’s gaze flicks from her to Kolivan’s retreating back for a moment, then settles narrow, suspicious eyes on her. “What exactly do we have to talk about, General?”
“You of all people don’t need to call me General, Keith.”
His eyes narrow further. “And why is that?”
Krolia takes a deep breath. In English, she says “Because I’m your mother.”
A myriad of emotions flickers over Keith’s face too fast for her to name them before he settles on a blank “What.”
Continuing in English she answers the original question. “That’s what Kolivan was referring to. And,” she huffs a small laugh because he was not kidding when he said this mission would explain a lot, “at least a solid half of the reason he extracted me from a long-term mission. Simply to see you again.”
Keith continues just staring at her. His eyes flicker over her face, cataloging, scrutinizing, and she lets him, doing her best to let years of spy work and diplomatic necessity fall away and just show him her bare heart. A heart that has been his since she first held him in her arms. The words start falling out of her before she even realizes she’s speaking. “Earth. A red desert; sadly I forget what your father called it, but he loved it. He loved the ability to look up into the stars, to trace the constellations, to trade stories of them between our worlds. To tell them both to you in the dead of night when we all should have been asleep. You--you were our world. Our--”
”You left me.”
Krolia screeches to a halt. “Keith--”
“You left me there.”
His face is screwed up, but not with an emotion she thinks is anger. Not entirely, at any rate. Krolia blinks at him for a moment, mouth halfway through her next word. “I was trying to protect you!”
He laughs and the bitter edge to it is all too clear. “You did a wonderful job of that.”
“The Empire was already there. They--they’d tracked the Blue Lion, and I quickly found out they already had the Red Lion, and I couldn’t--I couldn’t stay, Keith. My presence was endangering you and everyone else on Earth and I couldn't let the Empire hurt more people I loved than it already had.” Her voice cracks on that, an image of Altea burning, of Daibazaal in pieces, of her sibling’s blade to her throat, of Ryan desperately squeezing her hand one last time and a smaller Keith sobbing in her arms. Of Raskova, taken away without her knowledge, of Kolivan’s hidden grief over Kolí as she took the devastating choice away from him. “You were supposed to be safe!”
“I was never safe on Earth!”
He winces as he stands but he does, trembling fists and the yellow in his eyes signs of the emotion wracking him. “Earth was never safe. I bounced between people that never wanted me, people that gave up halfway through, people that tried to change me and deny me and accuse me and to top it all off Earth was dying and the one person I knew was capable of fixing it died in a freak accident right next to me and the Garrison wasn’t capable of doing more than shrugging its collective shoulders even when an alien ship crashed into the system. The Empire knew we were there the entire time and they only left when the Blue Lion did, so I don’t know what your definition of safe is, but Earth was never it.”
Keith starts stalking out of the infirmary and Krolia finally jolts to her feet. “Keith--wait--!”
Taeraar grabs her arm out of nowhere. “Easy, Krolia.”
“He’s still injured.”
“Yeah, and you learn a lot about your frequent fliers here, which is why I gave him the stiffer bandages and slow-acting painkillers, then locked him out of the training rooms. Half the time he’s in here Yorak spirits him into the vents and the other half he sneaks his way out anyway. Whatever language you two were just using didn’t translate, but the tone did. Give him a few vargas to sort through everything in his head and go kick Bersaan in the ass.”
The argument in a language almost no one on base understands spreads through the grapevine very quickly. Kolivan overhears one of the lieutenants whispering about it as he heads between ZNTH and his office and sighs. Time to make a detour. His first stop is Keith’s room, not because he thinks he’s in there, but because he knows exactly where Keith is and that sooner or later he’s going to want his jacket. It’s easy to find, at least, thrown haphazardly on his bed next to where the armorers have dropped a new set. Then he heads for the smallest observation deck that points out towards the event horizon between Duazyíkuika and Marthinazik.
Keith is, as predicted, slouched on the floor and leaning against the couch instead of sitting on it, Yorak’s head in his lap. Kolivan clears his throat. Keith twists to look at him for a moment, then sighs and turns back to the window. Kolivan takes that as his cue to drape the jacket over his shoulders and sit down next to him. Keith shrugs into it and returns to sullen silence.
“My mother did something similar.”
Keith twists to stare at him. “What?”
“Left me for my own protection. She,” he sighs, “well, she was in the same position as me. Not the Fourth General, the First, but the same in all the ways that matter. We’re spies and rebels, Keith. A military base is our home. This is no place for children. Morakiluide is well protected, but there are always risks. And for those on our other bases, the situation is even more precarious. So she left me with family that she knew would protect me. I didn’t get to see her very often, only when she managed to accompany a team that was bringing us supplies. And then, one day… she just didn’t come back. I found out later she’d given her life instead of her team’s. I--I had to do the same thing with Kolí. And I failed her anyway.”
Keith curls into a ball, chin on his knees. “She didn’t leave me with family.”
“Because the Empire had already taken hers away. It took her a while to find another.” Kolivan looks down at his hands. “And I fear I almost destroyed that for her. Which is why this is important to me.” He meets Keith’s eyes, violet so close to Krolia’s. “I acknowledge that you may not think of her as a mother right now. All I ask is you set your anger aside and give her a chance.”
“I’m not angry,” Keith mumbles into his knees. “I’m--I don’t know what I am.”
Kolivan reaches out and settles a hand on his back. How much of it his hand covers is a stark reminder of how young Keith really is. He shouldn’t be fighting this war, but Kolivan knows that decision is in a Spirit’s hands, not his. “You’re overwhelmed. It’s understandable. But I think remaking that connection would be good for you too.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I did not want to dangle her in front of you only to have her snatched away by the Empire again if something happened. Krolia is capable, as a former Paladin, but even she is not invincible.”
Keith blinks at him. “Former Paladin?”
“She didn’t tell you that?”
“She might’ve,” Keith mumbles into his knees again, “I just didn’t process it. I was angry in the moment. But it… makes sense.”
Kolivan leans in to wrap him in a gentle hug. Keith sighs and melts into it. “I have to get something for Kozur, Keithva, but I’ll come back and find you when I’m done.” Keith nods. Kolivan gives him a final hair ruffle that he grumbles about good-naturedly and heads towards the door.
“Kolivan?”
“Yes?”
“What did you call your mother?”
He smiles. “Sasa.”
She is stalling.
Krolia knows this, nagging at the back of her mind. What had Kozur said, she had run away to avoid communicating with Kolivan? Yes, she’d done that, she knows that deep down. She was doing something similar right now. But she maintains that she was right about everything she’d pointed out about the Blade. And maybe they were both and always would be stubborn assholes.
But that was also a very good thing about Kolivan, that had protected his people more times than he probably knew.
But that thought is beside the point. She is stalling finding Keith. She does go beat up Bersaan, who seems to understand something, or perhaps already heard through Morakiluide’s inevitable rumor mill, and then Mosov challenges her to a shooting match (which she loses, she’s never been a sniper, but at least it takes her mind off things). Raykob drags her to the mess hall instead of proposing another match. She’s probably given Keith enough time.
She still goes back to her room. This is a necessary step, she argues with herself as she throws the clothes she was wearing into a corner to deal with later. She’ll be able to handle things much better with food in her and familiar comfort on her back. Krolia pulls her own armor out from her closet, setting the pieces on the bed and starting to strap them on.
She gets through the undersuit, boots, rerebraces, gauntlets, and chest plate before she pauses, staring down at the last piece on her bed. “Stars, Krolia,” she mutters, “what would Telt think of you, stalling like this? They’d punt you over to him themself.”
She throws the last piece on with less ceremony than it probably deserves. Her naazonsik swirls around her, old familiarity easing the tension in her back as the hauberk-like armor parts at her hip and the hood settles against her neck. As a finishing touch and a promise to Telt, she taps the control on her gauntlet that reverts her Paladin armor’s colors to default. Familiar blue erases the stolid grey edging.
She is and always will be a Paladin. Just like Keith.
Raykob had told her where she was likely to find him. On her way, she runs into Lotor, who meets her gaze. “Keith is in there.”
“I know.”
“I think, if you go now, he would be willing to talk to you. Just be careful.”
She purses her lips. “I know. I never wanted to hurt him, and I never want to do it again.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, before Lotor clicks his heels together and crosses his arms for the Marmorait bow. “Your kinai is a wonder of a person, Krolia, Kisekmet Marmorait. I wish you luck.”
Then he leaves, leaving nothing between her and Keith but a door.
Krolia forces herself to open the door before she can start stalling again. Keith looks up from whatever’s in his hands at the soft sound; he’s gained a red and white half-jacket somewhere along the way. Yorak perks up and barks once before settling back half onto Keith. Wordlessly, he turns to the viewport. She takes the few steps forward and settles next to him on the floor.
“The Sonoran Desert.”
“What?”
“The desert I was born in. Or, at least I think it was that one, given I lived in Arizona or states north of it most of my life. And that’s where we found Azul. I just--you seemed like you missed having the name.”
She smiles, gladly taking the olive branch. “I did. Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m not actually angry.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe I am a little bit, but--mostly I’m just--I don’t know what I’m feeling. Earth wasn’t kind to me for a long time. People--people almost seemed to sense there was something off about me. I’m not sure if they just felt an underlying unease with features I now know I get from you, or there was good old-fashioned ableism and transphobia mixed in.” Krolia has to run through that sentence again with the translated words before absolute fury wells up in her and she opens her mouth to vow to hunt down and destroy these people-- “I got accused of stealing once because my hair does the same thing yours does.”
She blinks at him. “What?”
“The pink at the ends. Mine does that when I cut it. I guess there’s some sort of trauma response in the melanins. I ended up cutting it myself and dying it black. They thought I was stealing pink dye. I did steal the black dye. Once. Then Shiro found me and I didn’t need to.”
“Shiro?” she prompts.
He smiles, wistful. “Shiro and Okasan were the best things that ever happened to me. Shiro just… gets me, in ways most people don’t. I don’t know how he does it. But from the moment he dragged me out of the desert and back into civilization he’s treated me like a little sibling. None of the alternating between kiddie gloves and harshness the foster parents tended to use on a child labeled too independent for his own good. Just kindness and encouragement and happy teasing. He’s--he’s what enabled me to get out of the lonely pit I was getting sucked into.”
“I’d love to meet your brother.”
“Well,” Keith snorts, “he’s the Black Paladin, so I’m sure you will at some point. Honestly, you should meet all of them. Pidge is practically my little sister too, and Matt, he’s with the rebels right now, is her brother and Shiro’s best friend and so essentially my brother. Hunk is the sweetest person you will ever meet and Lance is annoying as hell, but--”
Krolia raises an eyebrow, a slow, delighted smile on her face. “But?”
“Nevermind,” Keith grumbles, and he is as red as the Red Lion. Krolia decides to leave it for the moment, especially as he turns melancholy. “I wish you could meet Okasan. She was the only person that ever actually seemed to notice my alien traits and she met them the exact same way she met everything else about a skittish ten-year-old who’d seen too much already. Not even Shiro noticed my hair, but she did. And all she did was help me cut it and buy me black dye. I’m a little surprised not even the Garrison picked up on some stuff, like the real reason my ovaries are totally fucked, or that my thyroid is weird because it’s not actually a thyroid.
“Anyway. Okasan--Akane Shirogane--she--she was the best person I ever knew. She taught me how to punch, but also how to fight back in ways that don’t involve violence. She talked about stars with me and encouraged me to fly and actually called me by name which was more than one foster mom did, and she was the one person I knew could save Earth. She--she was exactly what I needed. What I wanted.” He looks over at her, eyes shiny. “And then she died in a freak car accident right next to me. And I’m pretty sure that’s the start of the story of how we ended up up here.”
Krolia rests a hand on his shoulder. Keith curls into himself more, looking back out at the black hole and the stars beyond it. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “If I could see another way, I would have taken it. You have every right to be angry.”
His hands tighten on his knees, shoulders tense. “Don’t leave me again,” he whispers.
“I won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
He shifts, kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in hers, speaking English so she knows he gets what she’s saying. “Keithva. I promise you I won’t. I wanted to keep you out of all this, but that decision has been taken out of my hands, and if it had to be, I’m glad it was taken by a Lion. I will be right by your side as long as I am alive. Keith Shirogane, Kikrolia Marmorait, I swear on House Marmora’s honor that I will not leave you.”
Keith stares at her for a long, long moment. “So that’s how the last name works?”
Krolia blinks, having absolutely not expected that. “As long as you want to keep Okasan’s House name as well, yes.”
“Good to know.”
She lets him study her, trying to project earnestness and just how much she means what she said. Something must get across because his shoulders relax. “Thank you,” he hesitates, and Krolia can’t figure out why until the next word out of his mouth tears her apart and remakes her.
“Sasa.”
She starts tearing up and pulls him into a hug, holding him tight. He starts rambling, sounding like he might be crying too. “I don’t remember a lot. Purple and blue. The desert. Dad holding me. Half-remembered stories of stars. The Kunalsaetok Zad. I--I wished on them, for a while, like the old story, wished they’d bring my parents back. And--I didn’t remember it until I asked Kolivan what he called his mother--Sasa.”
“I love you,” she says into his hair, repeating it over and over, alternating between English and Galran and adding what she knows he needs to hear, what she needs to feel. “I love you, I’m here, Keithva, I’m here.”
He is stalling.
Kolivan knows this, objectively. There has been plenty of time between when they got back and now for him to tell Krolia the full details of why he pulled her out of Ranveig’s base. But Keith had been badly injured (would have died without Lotor--no, stop that, Keith is fine and currently sulking in the observatory like usual) and he could barely bare to tear himself away, much less her, not even having had a proper reunion, and then they’d been fighting, and he was giving them time and--
And now Kozur is standing in the doorway of his office, tapping xer foot and arms crossed. “You’re out of excuses.”
“Kozur…”
“Get the damn blade out of the safe and give her your explanation unless you want me to embarrass you by sending all the pictures Lance sent me of grumpy Earth cats that look just like you to every Blade comm.”
He gets the damn blade out of the safe and heads towards the observatory he’s certain she’s in.
Krolia is precisely where he expected her to be, with the addition of Keith asleep on her shoulder and Yorak draped across them both. “I can leave.”
“Stay.” She looks down at Keith, a soft smile that he’s never seen before on her face. “He’s a light sleeper, but I think he’s exhausted enough it won’t matter, considering he stormed out of the infirmary.”
Kolivan nods and moves to stand next to them, gazing down at Keith’s sleeping face. Yorak blinks an eye open and snorts before rolling over and back to sleep. “Something I’ve learned over the past few decaphoebs is that humans tend to be… excitable. It serves them well in battle but can get in the way of taking care of themselves. Even if he is not fully human, he still certainly has that trait.”
Krolia hums. “Or it could be the Paladin in him. I know Telt never stopped moving. Even Tannin was like that sometimes.”
“Perhaps it is both.”
They lapse into silence, Krolia unmoving while Kolivan fidgets with the object in his hands crossed at the small of his back. He’d resolved phoebs ago to give it to Krolia when he next saw her, to explain his reasoning so long ago and what had changed his mind. Now that he has it in his hands, now that he is standing right next to her, he finds it hard to work up the courage. Here he is, Kolivan, Kizudea Marzet, Fourth General of the Blade of Marmora, unable to say a single word.
Krolia starts before he can. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For leaving. For leaving you to take care of him alone.”
“That is not your fault, Kroliaka. None of us had any idea he would even find his way to us. Besides, Keithva knows how to take care of himself as well as any Blade. You should not be apologizing for leaving, for I’m the one that should be apologizing there.”
Krolia finally looks at him. “What?”
Kolivan takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I should have realized far sooner just how right you were. We, I, have let the corruption of Zarkon’s empire invade the Blade of Marmora for far too long. You were right to point out the problems in our guiding philosophies, and I’m sorry that it took one of the humans spelling out our own history for me to get it. So for that, for driving you away, for the time I inadvertently kept you from your kitok, I’m sorry.”
She studies him, the calculating gaze of a negotiator who knows when someone is lying. He lets her, trying to show the remorse he truly feels for his blindness. After a moment she nods curtly and looks away. “Apology accepted. What are you doing about it, then?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen some of the changes we’ve made. Keith has been a good resource, actually, as he’s our most direct link to Voltron, but there’s one thing I haven’t been able to change without you.” He brings his hands around, holding the object in them out to her.
Krolia stares down at it, eyes widening. “The blade of the Fifth General?”
“I need your help, Krolia, Kisekmet Marmorait,” Kolivan tells her. “You know far better than anyone else what we used to be. You knew us without the corruption, without the Empire like this, without the weight of ten thousand decaphoebs of tyranny. I’m not giving this to you this time because of your family, because you’re the only one that can wield it. If that was all I wanted, I would give it to Lotor. I’m giving this to you because you are the one that deserves it. You are the one that is capable of getting us back to what the Fifth General would have wanted. You are the one that can lead us into this new world the Voltron Coalition is trying to build, to make us more than the spies we are forced to be.”
She considers him again. “You’ve really thought this through this time, haven’t you?”
“I have had five decaphoebs, and a Voltron Paladin at my side for a large amount of that. I even know who would fill the fifth spot.”
“Kolivan, if you’re promoting my kid to general you better wait until he at least has his claws.”
He smiles. “Very well. I doubt he’d accept the rank immediately, at any rate.”
Krolia takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Slowly, she lets it out and stands, gently shifting Keith to lean on Yorak. “Alright, I accept.”
They stand there, staring at each other for a moment before Kolivan bows. “Krolia, Kisekmet Marmorait, I give this to you that you may honor your House, that you may honor those long with the stars, that you may honor our descendants, that you may honor our world, that you may honor House Marmora.”
Krolia bows back, the old, old bow that she is one of the few who remembers. “Kolivan, Kizudea Marzet, I accept this position and this symbol that I may honor House Marmora, that I may honor the Fifth General, that I may honor my child, that I may honor Daibazaal and our universe, that I may honor my siblings.”
Kolivan holds the blade out once more, raising it up. Krolia takes it, gently hefting the old marthuzitok blade. She takes a step back and the blade glows, morphing into its full form for the first time in almost ten thousand decaphoebs. “You changed what you said,” Kolivan murmurs.
Krolia pauses her twirling of the blade, holding it in front of her face. “I never told you why I didn’t accept this when you and Vuevai first attempted to offer it to me, did I.”
“No.”
Krolia shrinks the blade back to its dagger form and holds it up to the light. The quintessence core of the marthuzitok blade sparkles in the blue of the star. “Because I’ve seen this blade before. Because I know exactly who it belonged to, even if the Blade has forgotten her name, or perhaps, knowing her, never knew it. I took it this time to honor my House and everything we tried to do, yes. I also took it for Keith, and for what I was forced to do to Daibazaal to save lives. But I also took it for the wielder of this blade. I’m glad she finally saw what I did, even if it cost us everything.
“Last time I saw this blade it was held to my throat as I committed treason against my Emperor. Her name, the founder of the Blade of Marmora, was Karain, Kisekmet Marmorait. And I’m going to finish what she started.”
Keith drifts between asleep and awake. There is a gentle warmth holding him, swaying him almost like a baby and it’s hard to tell if that’s a decades-old sense memory or wistful imagination. He slits his eyes, barely capable of holding that, and registers enough to hazily realize it’s Krolia picking him up, letting him curl against her. Kolivan is next to her, a weight inexplicably off his shoulders and Yorak twisting between him and Krolia. “Sleep, kitokva,” Krolia murmurs. Keith lets his eyes droop back closed.
Before he does, though, in the space beyond Marthinazik, he can see five bright stars and knows, instinctively, he should make a wish, on those five stars that granted a child’s dream.
Keep them here. Don’t let me lose them again.
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