historically inaccurate but well-meaning t-rex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scriveyner) wrote2017-05-10 11:14 am
scriveyner) wrote2017-05-10 11:14 am
Entry tags:
- au: slts,
- character: allura,
- character: hunk,
- character: hunk (beta),
- character: illianya,
- character: keith,
- character: keith (omega),
- character: lance,
- character: lance (omega),
- character: matthew holt,
- character: pidge gunderson,
- character: rian martin,
- character: rian martin (altean),
- character: takashi shirogane,
- character: takashi shirogane (alpha),
- genre: abo,
- genre: multi-part,
- pairing: hunk/illianya,
- pairing: shiro/keith/lance,
- series: voltron legendary defender,
- wc: under 5000
Voltron Legendary Defender - Shining Like the Stars [88] [Shklance]
Title: shining like the stars [88]
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
AU: slts
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith/Lance, Team Voltron
Rating: M
Length: 3612
Summary: More guards rushed into the launch bay than left, their weapons sweeping the wide open space with organized precision. Pidge flattened herself atop one of the scaffolds that ran along the far wall, but while they were looking around and scanning with weapons they didn’t appear to be using any type of life-form scanners, otherwise she would have been discovered by now.
More guards rushed into the launch bay than left, their weapons sweeping the wide open space with organized precision. Pidge flattened herself atop one of the scaffolds that ran along the far wall, but while they were looking around and scanning with weapons they didn’t appear to be using any type of life-form scanners, otherwise she would have been discovered by now.
With the alarms blaring the ‘crazy anomaly’ in the launch bay became less a curiosity and more a concern; and after five or so more guards came and went two came in carrying a large box between them and followed by a Galra who stood at least half a head taller. That had to be their commander. Pidge swore under her breath again, and squinted at the display that hovered above her forearm as her Paladin armor scanned the equipment. Of course; it was some sort of barrier disrupter.
If they had a barrier disrupter that could interrupt the particle barrier on the Voltron Lions there would have been a Galra in the cockpit of the Red Lion ages ago. Pidge wasn’t particularly worried about that ; she figured with the alarm going off constantly that at least half the guards would disperse. That was not happening.
Very carefully, with the volume turned down, she switched her comm back on. “Okay, quick update,” she said, wincing as she caught the tail end of Hunk screaming. “This is gonna be a little more complicated than originally planned. Holding pattern, guys.”
“Pidge, if it’s too dangerous get out of there,” Shiro said. “We can’t afford for you to get captured.”
“I’m not leaving Green,” she said. Pidge pushed herself up on her elbows and scanned along the ceiling, noting how the scaffolding ran up the walls toward the top of the launch bay. “And they won’t catch me.”
She switched off her comm unit before anyone could respond to that, then flipped her computer from processing mode to contacting the Green Lion. She had been working on this particular patchwork system for a while; and hadn’t really had a chance to test out most of its functions. No time like the present for beta testing. “All right,” she said softly and mostly to herself, as she typed a command and ran her finger down a virtual toggle, emulating a switch. “Work with me here, Green.”
The vibration of the Green Lion’s amused purr echoed throughout the launch bay. Pidge grinned at its response. The noise threw the Galra into an uproar, because while it was absolutely obvious that the foreign noise had come from behind the shielded particle barrier they still hadn’t figured out what the heck they were dealing with, and now it was making noises. Several of the guards retreated, in as orderly a fashion as they could muster, while the two who stood with the Galra commander held their position with the disrupter now situated on the floor and one of them working its controls frantically.
Pidge shifted. No one was scanning the launch bay now, everyone was focused on the anomaly. She sat completely upright and kept typing quickly. “All right girl,” she said. “Let’s give them a show that they won’t forget!”
With one decisive swipe of her fingers across the input pad, the particle barrier and cloaking shield all dropped at once. The commander raised his fist in victory, only to drop it when he realized he was looking down the maw of the Green Lion, crouched on the deck of the flight bay. The Lion’s tail blaster was raised up and the blast shielding built into Pidge’s helmet darkened automatically, saving her eyes from the brilliant plasma burst in an enclosed environment. Her ears still ringing, she touched the side of her helmet and the shielding resumed its usual transparency.
Green had shifted out of her crouch and resumed a seated, alert posture … waiting for pilot input. It was good to know that her computer linkup with the main system of the Green Lion was functional; but the heavy, thick smell of ozone and carbonized matter was a little sickening. Pidge got to her feet and put both her hands on the rail of the scaffolding; the guards who had wisely retreated before the Voltron Lion was revealed were returning now; and they brought backup -- in the form of the autonomous drone soldiers. Pidge was over the side of the scaffolding in an instant, her bayard in hand as it transformed into its grapple form. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers who had noticed the movement, as well as the retort of their weapons, so she threw herself into the air, aiming the grapple at the ceiling.
A plasma bolt struck her, hard enough that she twisted in mid-air. The bayard automatically reverted the moment her fingers slipped off it, and it digitized right back into her suit.
Pidge didn’t hit the ground.
The Green Lion moved on its own, without any direct input from her or her suit. Pidge slammed against the side of its head and scrabbled, her left arm gone completely numb and hanging limp against her side. Pidge dug her fingers against the slick green outer coating on the Lion and struggled to pull herself up. Distantly, she realized that the particle barrier was up again and plasma bolts from the Galra weapons were pinging off it, but she was more concerned with not falling to death from the head of her ride.
After far too much a struggle she finally pulled herself up onto the Green Lion’s snout, and rolled onto her back; her left arm flopping against her chest. “ Fuck ,” Pidge said, panting raggedly; and then pushed herself upright.
#
Allura kept her back to the wall as Matt crouched low. There were guards rushing past the hallway, down the main artery of the prison ship; their angry yelling echoing down the corridor. Not one split off down the short alcove that they had taken refuge in; it dead-ended in a console with no means of escape or concealment, other than the ridged dividers. The escaped prisoners had stampeded the main exit of the brig, causing bedlam, and that was where the current conflict was taking place. Neither Allura nor Matt could see that far down the corridor to witness what, precisely, was going on -- but there was a constant ping of blaster fire being exchanged, so clearly some of the prisoners had already laid hands on weapons.
“Nothing we can do at this point but wait,” Matt said. “Can’t get to the prisoners, can’t get out without revealing our presence.” He glanced back at Allura. “I don’t suppose you can morph that suit into Galra gear like you can your skin?”
She shook her head. “The only transmutory properties my flight suit carries is that it changes to match my size. It can’t transform into another suit entirely.” She touched one hand to her helmet to reactive her comm. “Pidge, have you gotten to the Green Lion yet?”
“Something like that,” Pidge’s voice was curt. Matt glanced up at Allura, and while the shielding on his full-face helmet was mostly transparent the flare of the overhead light masked most of his expression. “Are you guys to the-” there was a sharp inhale, and Pidge grunted before completing her thought. “To the shuttle?”
Matt touched the comm on his own suit, located on the wrist. “Katie, are you hurt? ” he asked, the anger winning out over the worry in his tone.
“Just a flesh wound,” Pidge said, clearly trying for flippant. Allura closed her eyes and tilted her head, trying to focus her energies on the Green Lion and Pidge, within its cockpit. She was unsuccessful. “I’ll be inside in a few ticks,” Pidge continued. “You guys ready to get out of here?”
“We’re-” Matt started to say, when Allura put her free hand on his shoulder and he stopped.
“We’ll see you back at the castle, Pidge,” Allura said, her voice absolutely casual. She cut the comm feed and looked down at Matt, who stared at her a moment before doing the same.
“The moment that she makes contact with the others your majordomo will tell her where we really are,” Matt said. “What is the point- ”
“Believe it or not, I have some idea what I am doing,” Allura said. She leaned past the divider; while the flurry of soldiers and drones hadn’t really diminished, they were no longer moving with the same frantic pace. “Sooner or later someone will trace the prison break to this console.”
“Are you suggesting we move out now?” Matt said. “‘Cause we’ll never make it through that many. They’ll have stunners and tase wands.”
“You’ve been on prison ships before,” Allura said. “And presumably escaped from one. I trust you have an idea on how to bypass the main arteries of the ship.”
He glared at her, and then glanced back at the main corridor. He frowned, looked down at the tile and then looked up, at the thick bundle of cords encased in hard coating that ran along the ceiling of all the hallways. Then he looked back at Allura, and tapped the wrist on his black flight suit twice. “I might have some ideas,” he said.
#
The Galra frigate was large, probably larger than any of the ships they’d fought yet. As Shiro snap-rolled the Black Lion away from the flight of drone starfighters on his six he saw the quick bursts of blue light that was Hunk’s plasma cannon impact on the ship’s shields. The particle barrier that the Galra had on this particular frigate was strong enough to withstand pretty much anything they could throw at it from a distance -- they would have to get close, inside the shields to do any real damage.
He rolled the Black Lion into a dive, and then came up and around to starboard in a horizontal loop that brought him back head to head with the pilot-less starfighters that had been on his exhaust. He spitted one on his cross-hairs and hit the trigger, then swept the target straight through the flight. One after another the starfighters erupted into explosions, a fiery light that was extinguished immediately by the cold vacuum of space.
“There’s too many of them,” Hunk said, and the pitch in his voice had gone up. “The shields on this thing are too strong, Shiro, we need Voltron to take it down!”
“That’s not an option right now,” Shiro said, eyes fixed on the next flight of starfighters as the Black Lion wove through clusters of starfighters with a grace of its own. The Galra didn’t need to know that they were two pilots down at the moment, but with Hunk on the open comm frequency it was only a matter of time. “Jawblades out, Hunk!”
The Yellow Lion swooped over the Black Lion. Hunk’s Lion didn’t have the speed nor grace of the Black Lion, but its firepower and armor were definitely superior. “I’ve got lead,” Hunk said, his attention now focused on the mammoth ship ahead of them. Shiro relinquished the lead and pulled back on the throttle, keeping to Hunk’s seven as he paced him, the plasma blaster on the tip of the Black Lion’s tail keeping their pursuit back.
“I’ve got your back,” Shiro said, as they approached on the port side of the ship.
Before they could get close enough to the frigate to do any damage, a series of magenta-hued explosions began along the underside of the ship. Without a word the Yellow Lion changed course toward the trail of explosions and Shiro kept on his wing, the jawblades of the Lions making impact with the already damaged hull of the ship and tearing it open along the seam. It wouldn’t be enough to bring down the frigate, but it was certainly enough to keep the Galra inside busy; and the busier they were, the fewer drone fighters they could launch.
The small black starfighter curved back around in a graceful arc, passing in front of the Black Lion’s viewscreens. Illianya’s fighter was just a tiny blip in a HUD full of enemies, and hard to keep an eye on because of it. “Great shot Kestrel Lead,” Shiro said, as Hunk whooped in the background, the Yellow Lion shooting after the starfighter. Shiro brought his targets to bear on the next wave of drone ships, and in the split second of breathing room he had, glanced up at the comm screen.
Relief crashed over him seeing Pidge there, seated in the Green Lion’s cockpit. She wasn’t looking at the comm screen though, and Shiro’s relief calcified in his stomach when he saw the way she was hitting switches, one-handed with the other arm laying limp at her side. “Pidge!” Shiro said, alarmed, and without even thinking about it the Black Lion reacted to the drone starfighters, going into a corkscrew maneuver and eliminating a whole squadron in a single pass.
She looked up at the comm screen finally, her face slightly ashen. “I’m okay,” she said, her one hand on the controls. “Don’t know how much use I’m going to be, though-”
Shiro’s eyes darted to the HUD; there was a cascading wave of red dots disappearing behind the IF/F marker of the Yellow Lion; but there was an even larger mass of them heading their way. How many of these things could a frigate carry? They really needed more firepower -- and Shiro wasn’t going to kid himself, what they really needed was Voltron. “Kestrel Lead,” he barked into the comm. “Get to the prison ship, escort the Green Lion back-”
“ No, ” Pidge had to yell to be heard over Shiro’s order. “I have cloaking shields and a particle barrier, Shiro; I can still help form Voltron-”
“- to the castle,” Shiro continued as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “Do you copy that?”
“I copy, Black,” Illianya voice came through the comm. Shiro glanced back up at the screen, where Pidge had leaned forward in her seat, teeth gritted. “Don’t launch until Kestrel Lead hails you,” he said.
“Shiro, look out!”
Hunk’s voice had barely even registered, the Black Lion reacted again almost subconsciously; moving so quickly that Shiro was slammed back against the seat, magnetic restraints be damned. He yanked back on both of the flight controls and brought the Black Lion up into a sharp climb, as the massive plasma beam lit up all of the Lion’s sensors and dazzled him.
If the Black Lion had actual fur it would be singed from how close a call it was. Shiro broke off and to starboard, spinning around and seeing the remains of several dozen explosions; drone fighters sacrificed by the gunners on the frigate. “You all right?” the Yellow Lion pulled into his periphery, but Shiro didn’t glance at the comm.
“Should take a few minutes for a weapon that size to recharge,” Shiro said, heart in his throat. He broke off in one direction, and after a moment Hunk did likewise, arcing the Yellow Lion in the opposite direction.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Coran said, his face popping up on a comm screen as well, “but the Castle sensors are indicating the presence of several warps holes opened at the edge of the system. I think we’re about to have company.”
#
The instructor was female, a rarity on board the Galra ships. Keith knew that she was different from the way she smelled, although from the outside she didn’t look very different from the other ranked Galra who patrolled the prison ship. Large and broad-shouldered, there was a huge scar that disfigured her face, running across her snout and taking the entirety of one eye. It reached back into the short gray fur at the crown of her head, and culminated in a chunk taken from one of her purple-furred ears.
Their first instructor was gone. He was never mentioned again, and just like him a half-dozen of the other halflings were gone as well. They were weak, it was whispered among the whelps. They were broken . Discarded. Destroyed. The new instructor was here to cull more of them, those that couldn’t keep up, those that couldn’t survive the training. Victory to the strong.
At what cost?
Keith spat blood in the sand as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. The last of the gladiator bots was down, its circuitry sparking, his bayard sword driven straight through its chest cavity. He could hear the rumble of the crowd through the opaque dome, and he couldn’t gauge them, didn’t want to. If they were disappointed that the half-breed was still standing that was on them, the savages.
“Keith,” Lance called from across the ring. His nose was bloody, it had dripped red onto the chestplate of his armor. “You all right?”
His ears were ringing, it wasn’t the Alteans he was hearing. The jeers and shouting were more guttural, fists pounding on the dome, the demands for blood strong. Keith braced his heel on the chest of the gladiator bot and yanked his weapon from it. There was no satisfying spray of fluids, although some oil and water seeped from the broken robot; still his pulse was pounding in his ears. Keith turned rapidly when he heard the crunch of boots on sand, sword at the ready -- Lance existed, too far away, this scent was Galra, this scent was opponent, this scent was enemy-
Rian held one hand up, stopping well out of reach. He was more battered than Lance, owing to his close-combat weapons. The twin blades were cracked from their impacts on the armor of the gladiator bots. Rian’s gold, glowing eyes were narrow, and Keith couldn’t read him. Keith’s breath quickened, was he ready to attack, was he surrendering? Keith shifted his feet, made ready to force the Galra to a defensive posture. “ Keith! ” Lance yelled from across the arena, and his ears flicked. Rian raised his weapons, eyes on Keith, and Keith bared his fangs.
“Bring it,” the Galra said, dark hair in his eyes, his mouth curled back into a snarl. “I’ll prove I’m worthy of the Red Lion.”
Five strides and he would be across the sand, sword swinging toward his opponent’s throat. Mercy for your opponent means death for you. Four strides and he was changing his grip on the weapon, laser-focused on Rian as Rian swung around, bringing his blades in, to block the fatal blow. Hesitation is death. Three strides and he dug his feet into the sand, felt it shift, changed the arc of his blade-
-and then there was a blur of blue and white, between him and his target, bayard held up to deflect his blow but misjudging the angle of his swing- “Keith, what the fuck are you-”
The bayard sword impacted the bottom part of the chest armor hard enough to crack it. The keen edge of the blade sliced through the vacuum suit like it was butter. The impact of the weapon on bone is what jolted his arms, and Keith released his bayard on reflex. Lance let out a strangled sound and stayed upright for a second, staring at Keith with the most baffled expression, his bayard-rifle still extended to block a blow higher than Keith struck.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, as the silence rippled over everything. Then Lance went down.
Rian stood behind him still, mouth open, arms gone slack, blades still in hand. Then he dropped both his weapons and rushed to Lance, falling on his knees in the churned sand turning crimson, clumped with blood.
Chest heaving, Keith stood there, the words echoing in his ears. He’s not strong enough, the druid said, lurking beside the instructor, her cloak casting her features into shadow. Send him away.
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
AU: slts
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith/Lance, Team Voltron
Rating: M
Length: 3612
Summary: More guards rushed into the launch bay than left, their weapons sweeping the wide open space with organized precision. Pidge flattened herself atop one of the scaffolds that ran along the far wall, but while they were looking around and scanning with weapons they didn’t appear to be using any type of life-form scanners, otherwise she would have been discovered by now.
More guards rushed into the launch bay than left, their weapons sweeping the wide open space with organized precision. Pidge flattened herself atop one of the scaffolds that ran along the far wall, but while they were looking around and scanning with weapons they didn’t appear to be using any type of life-form scanners, otherwise she would have been discovered by now.
With the alarms blaring the ‘crazy anomaly’ in the launch bay became less a curiosity and more a concern; and after five or so more guards came and went two came in carrying a large box between them and followed by a Galra who stood at least half a head taller. That had to be their commander. Pidge swore under her breath again, and squinted at the display that hovered above her forearm as her Paladin armor scanned the equipment. Of course; it was some sort of barrier disrupter.
If they had a barrier disrupter that could interrupt the particle barrier on the Voltron Lions there would have been a Galra in the cockpit of the Red Lion ages ago. Pidge wasn’t particularly worried about that ; she figured with the alarm going off constantly that at least half the guards would disperse. That was not happening.
Very carefully, with the volume turned down, she switched her comm back on. “Okay, quick update,” she said, wincing as she caught the tail end of Hunk screaming. “This is gonna be a little more complicated than originally planned. Holding pattern, guys.”
“Pidge, if it’s too dangerous get out of there,” Shiro said. “We can’t afford for you to get captured.”
“I’m not leaving Green,” she said. Pidge pushed herself up on her elbows and scanned along the ceiling, noting how the scaffolding ran up the walls toward the top of the launch bay. “And they won’t catch me.”
She switched off her comm unit before anyone could respond to that, then flipped her computer from processing mode to contacting the Green Lion. She had been working on this particular patchwork system for a while; and hadn’t really had a chance to test out most of its functions. No time like the present for beta testing. “All right,” she said softly and mostly to herself, as she typed a command and ran her finger down a virtual toggle, emulating a switch. “Work with me here, Green.”
The vibration of the Green Lion’s amused purr echoed throughout the launch bay. Pidge grinned at its response. The noise threw the Galra into an uproar, because while it was absolutely obvious that the foreign noise had come from behind the shielded particle barrier they still hadn’t figured out what the heck they were dealing with, and now it was making noises. Several of the guards retreated, in as orderly a fashion as they could muster, while the two who stood with the Galra commander held their position with the disrupter now situated on the floor and one of them working its controls frantically.
Pidge shifted. No one was scanning the launch bay now, everyone was focused on the anomaly. She sat completely upright and kept typing quickly. “All right girl,” she said. “Let’s give them a show that they won’t forget!”
With one decisive swipe of her fingers across the input pad, the particle barrier and cloaking shield all dropped at once. The commander raised his fist in victory, only to drop it when he realized he was looking down the maw of the Green Lion, crouched on the deck of the flight bay. The Lion’s tail blaster was raised up and the blast shielding built into Pidge’s helmet darkened automatically, saving her eyes from the brilliant plasma burst in an enclosed environment. Her ears still ringing, she touched the side of her helmet and the shielding resumed its usual transparency.
Green had shifted out of her crouch and resumed a seated, alert posture … waiting for pilot input. It was good to know that her computer linkup with the main system of the Green Lion was functional; but the heavy, thick smell of ozone and carbonized matter was a little sickening. Pidge got to her feet and put both her hands on the rail of the scaffolding; the guards who had wisely retreated before the Voltron Lion was revealed were returning now; and they brought backup -- in the form of the autonomous drone soldiers. Pidge was over the side of the scaffolding in an instant, her bayard in hand as it transformed into its grapple form. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers who had noticed the movement, as well as the retort of their weapons, so she threw herself into the air, aiming the grapple at the ceiling.
A plasma bolt struck her, hard enough that she twisted in mid-air. The bayard automatically reverted the moment her fingers slipped off it, and it digitized right back into her suit.
Pidge didn’t hit the ground.
The Green Lion moved on its own, without any direct input from her or her suit. Pidge slammed against the side of its head and scrabbled, her left arm gone completely numb and hanging limp against her side. Pidge dug her fingers against the slick green outer coating on the Lion and struggled to pull herself up. Distantly, she realized that the particle barrier was up again and plasma bolts from the Galra weapons were pinging off it, but she was more concerned with not falling to death from the head of her ride.
After far too much a struggle she finally pulled herself up onto the Green Lion’s snout, and rolled onto her back; her left arm flopping against her chest. “ Fuck ,” Pidge said, panting raggedly; and then pushed herself upright.
Allura kept her back to the wall as Matt crouched low. There were guards rushing past the hallway, down the main artery of the prison ship; their angry yelling echoing down the corridor. Not one split off down the short alcove that they had taken refuge in; it dead-ended in a console with no means of escape or concealment, other than the ridged dividers. The escaped prisoners had stampeded the main exit of the brig, causing bedlam, and that was where the current conflict was taking place. Neither Allura nor Matt could see that far down the corridor to witness what, precisely, was going on -- but there was a constant ping of blaster fire being exchanged, so clearly some of the prisoners had already laid hands on weapons.
“Nothing we can do at this point but wait,” Matt said. “Can’t get to the prisoners, can’t get out without revealing our presence.” He glanced back at Allura. “I don’t suppose you can morph that suit into Galra gear like you can your skin?”
She shook her head. “The only transmutory properties my flight suit carries is that it changes to match my size. It can’t transform into another suit entirely.” She touched one hand to her helmet to reactive her comm. “Pidge, have you gotten to the Green Lion yet?”
“Something like that,” Pidge’s voice was curt. Matt glanced up at Allura, and while the shielding on his full-face helmet was mostly transparent the flare of the overhead light masked most of his expression. “Are you guys to the-” there was a sharp inhale, and Pidge grunted before completing her thought. “To the shuttle?”
Matt touched the comm on his own suit, located on the wrist. “Katie, are you hurt? ” he asked, the anger winning out over the worry in his tone.
“Just a flesh wound,” Pidge said, clearly trying for flippant. Allura closed her eyes and tilted her head, trying to focus her energies on the Green Lion and Pidge, within its cockpit. She was unsuccessful. “I’ll be inside in a few ticks,” Pidge continued. “You guys ready to get out of here?”
“We’re-” Matt started to say, when Allura put her free hand on his shoulder and he stopped.
“We’ll see you back at the castle, Pidge,” Allura said, her voice absolutely casual. She cut the comm feed and looked down at Matt, who stared at her a moment before doing the same.
“The moment that she makes contact with the others your majordomo will tell her where we really are,” Matt said. “What is the point- ”
“Believe it or not, I have some idea what I am doing,” Allura said. She leaned past the divider; while the flurry of soldiers and drones hadn’t really diminished, they were no longer moving with the same frantic pace. “Sooner or later someone will trace the prison break to this console.”
“Are you suggesting we move out now?” Matt said. “‘Cause we’ll never make it through that many. They’ll have stunners and tase wands.”
“You’ve been on prison ships before,” Allura said. “And presumably escaped from one. I trust you have an idea on how to bypass the main arteries of the ship.”
He glared at her, and then glanced back at the main corridor. He frowned, looked down at the tile and then looked up, at the thick bundle of cords encased in hard coating that ran along the ceiling of all the hallways. Then he looked back at Allura, and tapped the wrist on his black flight suit twice. “I might have some ideas,” he said.
The Galra frigate was large, probably larger than any of the ships they’d fought yet. As Shiro snap-rolled the Black Lion away from the flight of drone starfighters on his six he saw the quick bursts of blue light that was Hunk’s plasma cannon impact on the ship’s shields. The particle barrier that the Galra had on this particular frigate was strong enough to withstand pretty much anything they could throw at it from a distance -- they would have to get close, inside the shields to do any real damage.
He rolled the Black Lion into a dive, and then came up and around to starboard in a horizontal loop that brought him back head to head with the pilot-less starfighters that had been on his exhaust. He spitted one on his cross-hairs and hit the trigger, then swept the target straight through the flight. One after another the starfighters erupted into explosions, a fiery light that was extinguished immediately by the cold vacuum of space.
“There’s too many of them,” Hunk said, and the pitch in his voice had gone up. “The shields on this thing are too strong, Shiro, we need Voltron to take it down!”
“That’s not an option right now,” Shiro said, eyes fixed on the next flight of starfighters as the Black Lion wove through clusters of starfighters with a grace of its own. The Galra didn’t need to know that they were two pilots down at the moment, but with Hunk on the open comm frequency it was only a matter of time. “Jawblades out, Hunk!”
The Yellow Lion swooped over the Black Lion. Hunk’s Lion didn’t have the speed nor grace of the Black Lion, but its firepower and armor were definitely superior. “I’ve got lead,” Hunk said, his attention now focused on the mammoth ship ahead of them. Shiro relinquished the lead and pulled back on the throttle, keeping to Hunk’s seven as he paced him, the plasma blaster on the tip of the Black Lion’s tail keeping their pursuit back.
“I’ve got your back,” Shiro said, as they approached on the port side of the ship.
Before they could get close enough to the frigate to do any damage, a series of magenta-hued explosions began along the underside of the ship. Without a word the Yellow Lion changed course toward the trail of explosions and Shiro kept on his wing, the jawblades of the Lions making impact with the already damaged hull of the ship and tearing it open along the seam. It wouldn’t be enough to bring down the frigate, but it was certainly enough to keep the Galra inside busy; and the busier they were, the fewer drone fighters they could launch.
The small black starfighter curved back around in a graceful arc, passing in front of the Black Lion’s viewscreens. Illianya’s fighter was just a tiny blip in a HUD full of enemies, and hard to keep an eye on because of it. “Great shot Kestrel Lead,” Shiro said, as Hunk whooped in the background, the Yellow Lion shooting after the starfighter. Shiro brought his targets to bear on the next wave of drone ships, and in the split second of breathing room he had, glanced up at the comm screen.
Relief crashed over him seeing Pidge there, seated in the Green Lion’s cockpit. She wasn’t looking at the comm screen though, and Shiro’s relief calcified in his stomach when he saw the way she was hitting switches, one-handed with the other arm laying limp at her side. “Pidge!” Shiro said, alarmed, and without even thinking about it the Black Lion reacted to the drone starfighters, going into a corkscrew maneuver and eliminating a whole squadron in a single pass.
She looked up at the comm screen finally, her face slightly ashen. “I’m okay,” she said, her one hand on the controls. “Don’t know how much use I’m going to be, though-”
Shiro’s eyes darted to the HUD; there was a cascading wave of red dots disappearing behind the IF/F marker of the Yellow Lion; but there was an even larger mass of them heading their way. How many of these things could a frigate carry? They really needed more firepower -- and Shiro wasn’t going to kid himself, what they really needed was Voltron. “Kestrel Lead,” he barked into the comm. “Get to the prison ship, escort the Green Lion back-”
“ No, ” Pidge had to yell to be heard over Shiro’s order. “I have cloaking shields and a particle barrier, Shiro; I can still help form Voltron-”
“- to the castle,” Shiro continued as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “Do you copy that?”
“I copy, Black,” Illianya voice came through the comm. Shiro glanced back up at the screen, where Pidge had leaned forward in her seat, teeth gritted. “Don’t launch until Kestrel Lead hails you,” he said.
“Shiro, look out!”
Hunk’s voice had barely even registered, the Black Lion reacted again almost subconsciously; moving so quickly that Shiro was slammed back against the seat, magnetic restraints be damned. He yanked back on both of the flight controls and brought the Black Lion up into a sharp climb, as the massive plasma beam lit up all of the Lion’s sensors and dazzled him.
If the Black Lion had actual fur it would be singed from how close a call it was. Shiro broke off and to starboard, spinning around and seeing the remains of several dozen explosions; drone fighters sacrificed by the gunners on the frigate. “You all right?” the Yellow Lion pulled into his periphery, but Shiro didn’t glance at the comm.
“Should take a few minutes for a weapon that size to recharge,” Shiro said, heart in his throat. He broke off in one direction, and after a moment Hunk did likewise, arcing the Yellow Lion in the opposite direction.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Coran said, his face popping up on a comm screen as well, “but the Castle sensors are indicating the presence of several warps holes opened at the edge of the system. I think we’re about to have company.”
The instructor was female, a rarity on board the Galra ships. Keith knew that she was different from the way she smelled, although from the outside she didn’t look very different from the other ranked Galra who patrolled the prison ship. Large and broad-shouldered, there was a huge scar that disfigured her face, running across her snout and taking the entirety of one eye. It reached back into the short gray fur at the crown of her head, and culminated in a chunk taken from one of her purple-furred ears.
Their first instructor was gone. He was never mentioned again, and just like him a half-dozen of the other halflings were gone as well. They were weak, it was whispered among the whelps. They were broken . Discarded. Destroyed. The new instructor was here to cull more of them, those that couldn’t keep up, those that couldn’t survive the training. Victory to the strong.
At what cost?
Keith spat blood in the sand as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. The last of the gladiator bots was down, its circuitry sparking, his bayard sword driven straight through its chest cavity. He could hear the rumble of the crowd through the opaque dome, and he couldn’t gauge them, didn’t want to. If they were disappointed that the half-breed was still standing that was on them, the savages.
“Keith,” Lance called from across the ring. His nose was bloody, it had dripped red onto the chestplate of his armor. “You all right?”
His ears were ringing, it wasn’t the Alteans he was hearing. The jeers and shouting were more guttural, fists pounding on the dome, the demands for blood strong. Keith braced his heel on the chest of the gladiator bot and yanked his weapon from it. There was no satisfying spray of fluids, although some oil and water seeped from the broken robot; still his pulse was pounding in his ears. Keith turned rapidly when he heard the crunch of boots on sand, sword at the ready -- Lance existed, too far away, this scent was Galra, this scent was opponent, this scent was enemy-
Rian held one hand up, stopping well out of reach. He was more battered than Lance, owing to his close-combat weapons. The twin blades were cracked from their impacts on the armor of the gladiator bots. Rian’s gold, glowing eyes were narrow, and Keith couldn’t read him. Keith’s breath quickened, was he ready to attack, was he surrendering? Keith shifted his feet, made ready to force the Galra to a defensive posture. “ Keith! ” Lance yelled from across the arena, and his ears flicked. Rian raised his weapons, eyes on Keith, and Keith bared his fangs.
“Bring it,” the Galra said, dark hair in his eyes, his mouth curled back into a snarl. “I’ll prove I’m worthy of the Red Lion.”
Five strides and he would be across the sand, sword swinging toward his opponent’s throat. Mercy for your opponent means death for you. Four strides and he was changing his grip on the weapon, laser-focused on Rian as Rian swung around, bringing his blades in, to block the fatal blow. Hesitation is death. Three strides and he dug his feet into the sand, felt it shift, changed the arc of his blade-
-and then there was a blur of blue and white, between him and his target, bayard held up to deflect his blow but misjudging the angle of his swing- “Keith, what the fuck are you-”
The bayard sword impacted the bottom part of the chest armor hard enough to crack it. The keen edge of the blade sliced through the vacuum suit like it was butter. The impact of the weapon on bone is what jolted his arms, and Keith released his bayard on reflex. Lance let out a strangled sound and stayed upright for a second, staring at Keith with the most baffled expression, his bayard-rifle still extended to block a blow higher than Keith struck.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, as the silence rippled over everything. Then Lance went down.
Rian stood behind him still, mouth open, arms gone slack, blades still in hand. Then he dropped both his weapons and rushed to Lance, falling on his knees in the churned sand turning crimson, clumped with blood.
Chest heaving, Keith stood there, the words echoing in his ears. He’s not strong enough, the druid said, lurking beside the instructor, her cloak casting her features into shadow. Send him away.