VOLTRON-X
                            
                    Book 14: End Game
                    By: Christine


      Preparations for war were swift, but secret. 
Battle ships were readied in underground hangars, fighter
squadrons honed to readiness, invasion troops trained. 
Arus was going after bigger prey than occupied Pollux,
though.  This time the target was the throne world,
itself.
    
_________________________________________________________

       On a cool night in the second week of Harvest
month, a lithe, black-clad figure scaled the west wall of
the palace and slid within through an oily gun port. 
Merla.  The alarm system was down, its collapse triggered
by the wily pirate's hand-held control mechanism.  She
snuck along the mirror-polished barrel of the tremendous
cannon, feeling the thrum of tightly leashed power it
emitted.  Capable of blasting a heavy cruiser out of
orbit, the weapon was certainly more than powerful enough
to deal with a single Felarr interloper..... if its
masters had known she was there, and if it could have
been aimed at anything so tiny.  But they didn't, and it
couldn't, so Merla proceeded in relative safety.  She
planted a few explosive charges as she went, meaning to
provide herself with a distraction in case the need arose
for a sudden escape.  One couldn't be too careful, in her
business.
      At the rear of the cannon was the gunner's mount, a
complex control and targeting seat.  She left a
particularly nasty surprise there, for anyone who tried
to shoot Scylla down on her way out of this jerk-water
system.  Merla glided past the seat and into the command
center, hugging the shadows like a night-stalking cat. 
There were a few uniformed Sk'roven about, but none of
them was a member of the Voltron Force, so she kept
going.  Out through a narrow maintenance corridor, along
a branching passage, and on to the men's quarters.  Merla
knew the way well, for she'd spent several hours studying
the hand-drawn map she'd paid so much in gold for.
       The men's hall was dimly lit, and mostly deserted. 
Merla counted the doors as she stalked its length.  First
on the right, LaChance; a big male known chiefly for his
appetite and healing skills.  He piloted the Gold Lion.. 
Also in that room dwelt Pidge, a young genius, and
mastermind of most of Voltron's battle strategies.  First
on the left, Ericksen; another male, he was the consort
of Princess Romelle, now, and had moved to other
quarters.  He flew the Blue Lion.  A valuable
acquisition, but not what Merla was searching for.  It
was at the second left door she stopped.  A certain Lance
Calvin dwelt in that room, and the pirate had business
with him.
       Pulling the control unit from one of her belt
compartments, Merla set it to override the door's
electronic locking mechanism.  A second or two passed,
then the lock beeped once, and turned.  The door whooshed
aside, revealing an extremely untidy sitting room.  The
pirate entered, crossing between stacks of discarded
clothing, holo-books, and music disks, heading for a door
in the far wall.  According to the map, it opened into
her quarry's bed chamber.  She had the code for this
door, bribed away from a certain greedy young chamber
maid.  Punching in the opening sequence, Merla waited
until the portal slid open, then drew her gun and stepped
within.
     Lance sat up in his bed, sidearm in hand.  Grinning,
the young gunner drawled,
     "Hey, Babe!  What kept you?"
    
_________________________________________________________


     Some distance away, an unsleeping princess gazed at
herself in the full-length bathroom mirror.  Sometimes,
if she looked at her image from the corner of her eye,
she could see a second, darker Allura overlying the first
like a weird double exposure.  And deep in the secret
recesses of her mind, she could hear Nova Lion calling to
her through the link that still bound them..  Blue had
done his best, but she wasn't free. 
     Maybe she never would be.......   
     'Lura pondered this for a moment, then picked up a
jeweled brush and began slowly, sensuously drawing it
through her long, golden-blonde hair. 
     Maybe she didn't want to be.....

_________________________________________________________


     Across the hall, Sven sat out on the balcony of the
suite he shared with Romelle.  His beautiful princess was
on his lap, cuddled close against his chest.
     'Do you think we'll succeed?'  she sent, thinking of
the up-coming invasion. 
     The plan was a complicated one, with a single great,
glaring weakness.  No one on the Force had any idea how
they were to sneak onto Galra, and up to Lotor.
     'Kanske,'  Sven replied, meaning "maybe".  Then
again, maybe not.  He added aloud,
     "We need an ally on the inside.  Someone that damned
javeln trusts."
     "Um."  she murmured, nuzzling his neck.  Eyes
closed, she listened to the slow, steady rhythm of Sven's
heart, marveling at how differently his voice sounded,
filtered through his broad chest.  Then, changing the
subject, the princess whispered,
     "I wish that none of this had happened....., except
that then we'd never have met.  Or would we?"  Smiling,
Romelle mused on: 
     "Perhaps you would have come to my father's court
anyway, and I would have picked you out, over all of
those princes and lords, and said to my handmaids,  'Who
is that handsome..., tall..., dark-haired man?' "
     Sven played along.
     "And I would have thrown every one of those princes
and lords the hell out of the room... the handmaids,
too..... saluted you like this, and said, ' Lieutenant
Commander Sven Anders Ericksen, GA Navy.  Want to get
away from this dump?' "
      She giggled like a young girl, adding,
      "Father and Avok would have been FURIOUS!  Mum,
too!  Oh, but we'd have evaded them all, and gone
everywhere, and done everything fun in Agenstaad!  No one
would ever have found us!"
      The pleasant fancy made her feel even naughtier
than usual around Sven, which was saying something. 
Romelle had grown notorious in the Arussian court for not
being able to keep her hands off of her man.  Of course,
he wasn't much better.  Snuggling deeper into his arms,
she murmured,
      "Did you know that your neck is exactly six kisses
long?"
      "Nej," he smiled.  "I am not that flexible, Ljusa."
      "Well, it is.  Here, I'll show you."
      Baring the spot where his neck joined his muscular
right shoulder, Romelle began counting off a series of
warm, lingering kisses.
       "One....... two........ three...... four....*" 
       She made it no further, though, for Sven stood up
suddenly, lifted her in his arms, and strode back within. 
It was far too nice a night to spend outdoors.

_________________________________________________________

    
    "What KEPT me?!"  Merla repeated, incredulously. 
"Have you ANY idea how hard it is to hire a crew, and
bribe the harbormaster, WITHOUT MONEY?!"
    Ignoring Lance's sidearm, the pirate aimed her own
pistol squarely at his smug, grinning face.
    "The credit disk, Sk'rova; I want it back.  NOW!"
    Lance nodded slowly.
    "Well, yeah...., Sure.  I can give it back to you,
Babe.  'Course, there's nothing left on it.  The money's
all been transferred; a little down-payment on that
Denubian debt of ours.  So, I'm afraid I can't help you
there.  But maybe I could..... work it off?"  The depth
of nuance in his expression was unbelievable; with the
single quirk of an eyebrow, Lance could convey an entire
universe of fleshly delight.  Merla wasn't having any,
though.
     Bounding from threshold to bedside in a single,
cat-like spring, the lovely pirate seized him by the
hair, planted a knee upon his skinny chest and snarled,
      "Let me put this in terms you can understand, Male. 
I have mined your castle.  If I am injured, the mines
will detonate, bringing this entire structure down on top
of the cursed Voltron Force, and your little princess,
too!  If I am late to my rendezvous site, the mines will
detonate.  If I don't get my money back, the...."
       "Okay!  All right!  I get the concept!  Geez
you're single-minded!"
       "The MONEY, Sk'rova!"
       Lance considered a moment.  He wasn't afraid, not
really.  Merla's rage was more exciting than terrifying. 
To him, at least.  Staring into her golden eyes, the
gunner began to form a plan.
       "Tell you what, Babe.  The money's gone.  Nothing
I can do about that..  But I CAN cut you in on a little
deal to make back....., oh, three times what you lost."
       Merla sat back a bit, taking some of the pressure
off of his ribs.
       "I'm listening....,"  she prodded cautiously.
       Leaning forward, Lance began to explain.
       "All you gotta do is take us to Galra as your
prisoners, Sweetie, and then.....,"

_________________________________________________________

      ".......we can break free of our fake cuffs, beat
up the guards, take out the planetary defense systems,
and bring in the invasion force. Quick as a priest's
confession.  What d'you think?"
      Lance glanced 'round the ready room at his
audience, most of whom looked suspicious, annoyed, or
downright upset.  The earliness of the hour probably
wasn't winning him any converts.  Nor was the fact that
Merla, standing beside him, was still holding her laser
pistol in plain sight.  She and the princess had been
trading hard looks all morning.
      Keith spoke first.  Getting to his feet, the major
said,
      "I dunno, Lance.  It's a long shot.  What's to stop
your ladyfriend from collecting the bounty and turning us
over to Lotor, anyway?"
      Merla lowered her head, glaring at Akira through
her wild magenta hair..
     "My oath, Sk'rova.  If I give my word to do a
certain thing, it is done..  And nothing else..., no
threat nor bribe of yours..., can compel me otherwise. 
This is Lance's plan, not mine.  If you don't like it,
find your own way onto Galra."
      Uncertain, Keith looked over at Sven, who shrugged. 
Merla had excellent shields.  The best he could say was
that she didn't seem traitorous, and that she had a
genuine attachment to Lance.  She was a terribly complex
person, though, female and alien into the bargain. 
Without a deeper probe, he couldn't be sure.  All this
was far more than he could easily explain, though, so the
Eurasian pilot settled for,
      "Maybe."
      Lance picked up the argument again.
      "There, you see?  Sven's convinced, and it beats
trying to sneak into Lotor's palace disguised as piano
movers."
      Keith sighed, running a hand through his shaggy
hair.  He'd tried to cut it himself, recently, and ended
up with an uneven brown mop.
     "I'm putting this one to a vote,"  he decided at
last.  "It's too risky for me just to force your
compliance.  So, hands up if you're willing to go along
with Lance's crazy scheme."    
     The gunner volunteered immediately.  After a moment,
so did Sven, and then Pidge.  Hunk joined in, but only
because his wingman was in favor. 
     Allura snorted.  Getting to her feet, the princess
tossed back her long hair, favored Keith with a scornful
glance, and declared,
     "This is ludicrous.  She will betray you as soon as
you're chained up in her hold!  I will have nothing to do
with this..... this travesty!"
      "It's just as well, Dear,"  Merla snapped back.  "I
only just managed to get rid of the smell from the last
time you were aboard.  I'd hate to have to fumigate
again, so soon." 
      Lura shot her a fake little smile.
      "Really.  I should imagine that you'd be doing a
lot of that, what with the fleas, and all."       
     She was about to add a further insult, but Sven
stopped her with a quick sending.
     'Vanina, that's enough!  You aren't helping!'
     For just a moment, two distinct emotions warred in
Allura's heart; violent rage, that anyone should dare
speak so to her, and genuine embarrassed contrition. 
Then, she lowered her eyes and replied silently,
     "I'm sorry, Aniki.  I'll behave."
     Sven frowned uneasily.  Something was very wrong
with the princess.  He could tell from her strangely
altered aura, and the way she shielded her mind from him,
lately.  But he wouldn't say anything; not yet. 
Maybe...., Ericksen tried to reassure himself...., maybe
it was just strain and exhaustion..  He hoped so, anyway. 
Sending her a swift, warm psionic touch, he tried to calm
her disordered thoughts.
     Allura shot him an exasperated, tender, angry
glance.  Like a half-frozen cat getting a hot bath, she
was glad of the warmth, but hated the method.
Nevertheless, she backed off, saying nothing more to
Merla for the duration of the meeting.
      Keith covered the awkward moment by loudly clearing
his throat.  He, too, was concerned about the princess,
who hadn't addressed him three times since returning from
Akeron, and insisted on being called "Allura", now.  That
she wasn't herself was obvious; question was, who had she
become?  He had no idea, and was afraid to find out. 
Sighing, Akira returned to the matter at hand.
     "All right, team.  It looks like the majority rules
in favor.  We'll let Merla, here, "Capture" us together
with our lions, then break free after we've made it to
Galra, and she's collected her bounty.  Questions? 
Comments?"
      "How will we signal Bandor?"  Pidge inquired, for
the young king would be leading the invasion fleet.
      Keith gave it some thought, saying,
      "We'll either have to plan out and stick to a rigid
schedule, get to a comm station, or have a telepath send
for him.  Think you could reach him, from Galra, Sven?"
     "Ja....," Ericksen agreed, a little dubiously,  "If
he var listening, and unshielded."
      "Hmmmm,"  the major mused.  "Might be kind of
risky, at that.  Let's go with the schedule idea. 
Princess, the five of us will be Merla's captives.. 
You'll stay behind to coordinate the battle from Arus,
okay?"
     "Of course,"  she agreed blithely.  "A battle is no
place for a girl, Silly!  It's far too risky.  I'll just
stay here and knit sweaters for the lions."
     Ignoring the peculiar looks she got, Allura began
humming to herself and rearranging the folds of her
tawny, jeweled skirt.  She had no intention of remaining
on Arus, but there was no sense letting the men know
about it.
      Keith and Sven traded worried glances.  Then, very,
very faintly, the major sent,
      'Sven, could you...?'
      'Ja.  I will speak with her directly after the
meeting, Kommander.'
      Aloud, Keith concluded the session with:
      "Okay, team.  Twelve hours from now, Merla breaks
back into the palace, and operation Trojan Horse begins. 
Everybody clear on the mission?  Good.  I'll see you
after dinner for evening PT, then.  Dismissed."
      Everyone rose to go.  Sven started after Allura,
who was first out the door, but walking past Hunk he was
so overwhelmed by the man's projected depression that he
nearly collided with a wall.
     Quite obviously, LaChance had not yet recovered from
shooting Djin, a necessary action that Sven would have
iced over in less than an hour.  Hunk was a natural,
though, and like all of his kind, prone to bursts of
remorse.  Sven paused, wondering whether the princess or
LaChance needed more help.  Then another impression drove
both of them completely out of his thoughts.  Romelle was
in danger.

_________________________________________________________


     Allura left the ready room, well aware that Sven was
close at her heels..  She managed to lose him by
amplifying Hunk's emotions to the point that a cabbage
would have felt them, then slipping off while her "big
brother" was distracted.  He really was alarmingly
predictable, the princess thought to herself.  She
couldn't stay mad at him, though.  He was the only one
who'd ever really cared what she wanted.
      Flitting through the back ways and shadowed
corridors of the shifting palace, Allura followed an
internal song, taking all left turns until she arrived at
a sort of energy gate set in the rear wall of a tiny
room.  Approaching the gate, which flickered and sparked,
violet as lightning, Allura again felt her deserted
lion's powerful tug.
     Beyond the gate, it lay; patient and unblinking as a
serpent.  Lifting a hand to toy with her hair again,
Allura's fingers caught suddenly upon the broad ring of
white gold that she still wore upon a chain about her
neck.  For an instant she hesitated, torn.  Then Allura
yanked the thing from around her neck, snapping the
golden chain, and cast the whole business out into the
hallway, where it skittered across the stone floor and
out of sight.  Feeling freer suddenly, and terribly
daring, she stepped through the gate.

_________________________________________________________


     Romelle had been cornered by an off-world dignitary,
some powerful, wealthy nobleman with an appreciation for
beautiful women.  Very probably, the green-skinned fellow
meant no harm, but the way he looked at her,  the sheer
force of his admiring thoughts, scared the hell out of
Romelle, who was reminded very much of someone else. 
Forcing a smile, she backed into a heavy table, then had
to stop.  He didn't.  She had a tiny gun in her sash, was
almost to the point of drawing it, when her husband and
brother appeared.  Bandor waved, as bluff and cheerful as
if he'd noticed nothing.
     "Zworbol, old boy!" he called out, striding over to
seize the gentleman's arm and haul him away.  "JUST the
chartreuse being I was looking for!  Ever thought about
flying a starfighter? Life of glory, an early death, and
ladies at every port!  What could be finer?  Why, just
the other day....."
      Meanwhile, Sven stalked over to his princess,
projecting such raw ferocity that Bandor almost hurled
Zworbol out of the room.  The pilot was angry enough to
do serious damage, and the court-in-exile couldn't afford
another incident.
      Ericksen reached Romelle, who was leaning against
the table, white and shaken.  Pulling her into his arms,
he sent,
      'Ar du alright, Ljusa?'
      Some of the cutting edge left his emotions when she
managed a weak nod..
      'Yes, Love.  I'm fine.  More angry at my own
foolishness, than anything else.  I should have been able
to handle him myself, but he.... all I could think of
was......,'
       Sven's grip tightened.  She didn't have to finish
her sentence.  Motivated by the force of his rage,
pictures and ornaments flew from their niches to shatter
against the walls and tiled floor.
       'Darling, it's all right, I'm fine now, really! 
Please stop destroying 'Lara 's palace.  She'll...'
        Romelle's hazel eyes widened then, as she caught
a glimpse of what he meant to do.
        "Sven, no!"  she whispered.  "You mustn't face
him alone!  Listen to me..., he'll be captured during our
invasion, and stand trial for what he's done, so there's
no reason for you to....,"
        "Nej, Romelle.  There is every reason.  When
Lotor dies, I want him to know exactly who did it, and
why."
       A cold breath of warning touched Roma then,
perhaps sent by the goddess herself.  Anxiously, the
princess looked up into her vengeful mate's handsome
face, and clutched at his arms.
       "Sven, when you face Lotor, there will come a
moment when you must decide between two paths,"  she
predicted.  "One is life, the other, death........ for
you both.  Please, when that time comes, choose us? 
Because....., because I could survive without you,
Darling, but I couldn't live."
       But he couldn't promise her that.  There was too
much bitterness and anger in his heart, too much that he
had to exact payment for.  The best he could say was,
      "I will do everything I can to come back,
Princessa.  That much, I swear to you."
      Romelle squared her shoulders, took a deep breath,
and declared,
      "Then I'm coming, too.  I'll help lead the ground
forces, and give you some cover.  If you're going to risk
your life on some hare-brained private mission, then,
damn it, so will I!"
      Sven opened his mouth to protest, then shut it
again, and buried his feelings behind a very strong
shield.  After all, he couldn't very well order her to
stay behind.  Instead, he put a hand forth and brushed
her forehead, filling Romelle's mind with battle
strategies, covert ops tactics, and enough weaponry skill
to qualify her as a formidable marksman.
      "Ow!"  she winced, for that much information
delivered so quickly resulted in one truly monstrous
headache. "Jackass!"
      He smiled.
      "If you are going to fight, Ljusa, it is a good
idea to know what the hell you're doing.  You just got
the crash course in guerilla warfare."
      "Thanks ever so.  Remind me to give you the
lightning state-craft course, sometime."
      "Nej, tack.  I will leave that to you and Bandor. 
I do much better with guns, bombs, knives,  fighters,
airstrikes...., and women."
      "Woman."  she corrected, beginning to smile again.
      Sven offered her his arm, and they went off
together, discussing counter-insurgency and sabotage like
a couple of Green Berets.

_________________________________________________________


     On the other side of the gate, Allura found herself
in the cavernous, echoing hold of a huge starship.  It
was cold there, and dimly lit, with a few instructions or
warning signs painted upon the bulkheads in fading alien
characters.  About half a mile away, toward the center of
the hold, the dark lions crouched.   
      In the distance a force wall glittered and pulsed,
barely holding back the cold, shrieking void of space. 
High above, the overhead boasted a handful of bluish
flood lights and a crackling PA system that kept
replaying a final, choked-off alarm call.  There was an
air of antique tragedy about the place, as though some
ancient catastrophe had killed everyone aboard, leaving
the ship itself to drift derelict for uncounted aeons.
      Allura started forward, breath misting in the
chilly air.  Her footsteps rang hollow on the
metal-and-rubber deck, like the sound of a far-off gong. 
Nova Lion's head lifted as she drew near, his eyes
lighting up like twin coals.  A moment later, four
figures stepped from the shadows to surround her.  Grim
Tran, with his black hair and slanting dark eyes; noble
Avok, auburn-haired and green-eyed as a cat; icy,
rational, M'ken; and Stryde, whose pale eyes revealed a
turbulent, vicious soul.
      Unafraid, Lura lifted her chin and gazed at her
erstwhile team mates.
      "What are you doing here?"  Tran demanded in a
voice as frigid as the recycled air.
      Avok cut in before she could reply, saying,
      "The Nova Lion has been calling to her."
      The commander wasn't pleased.
      "Why didn't you say something?"
      "I did not believe that she could hear him, Sir."
      The princess interrupted their exchange.  In a
calm, level voice, she said,
      "I'm here because I want to be, Commander.  I'm
here to make a decision."
      Tran accepted this with a curt nod.
      "Come, then."
      Turning, he led her out of the hold and down a
tall, narrow accessway.  The others fell in behind;
escorts, or prison guards.  Allura ignored them, focusing
instead upon memorizing Tran's route.  After all, she
might choose to leave again.
      The commander led her to the small antechamber that
served him for a ready room.  Cluttered with weapons and 
jury-rigged computer systems, it was warmer than the hold
by about fifteen degrees.  Still chilly, though.
      When everyone was within, Tran faced Allura.
       "Explain."
       She nodded.
       "I feel drawn here,"  the princess began.  "To my
lion..., and the four of you.  I don't know why....  Blue
did his best to root out the link between Nova and me,
but I don't think he succeeded very well."
        Stryde scowled.
        "She's lying, Commander.  The Voltron Force will
track her here and strike while we're under-strength."
        M'ken stepped forward, touching a hand to his
left temple.  It was then that Lura noticed the chromed
cranial implant that linked his mind to the ship's
computers.  Something like a holographic screen
materialized before his face suddenly.  The brown-haired
genius glanced at her through it, scanned the readouts,
and then shook his head.  Vanquishing the screen with a
mental command, he said,
       "I don't think so, Stryde.  She isn't wearing a
wire, or any sort of homing device, nor is she armed.  If
this is a trap, it isn't a very good one."
       Next, Avok brushed her mind with his; pretty
certain of what he'd find, and resigned to it, now. 
Allura dropped her shields enough to let the prince get a
feel for her motivations.  Of course, the reverse was
also true, for he couldn't read her without being read in
return.  He had changed a great deal, Lura sensed, but
then, so had she.
       Avok withdrew.  Turning to his commander, he said,
       "She intends us no treachery."
       Everyone looked to Tran, then.  The commander
tossed Allura a flask, saying.
       "Sit down, and have a drink."  As she complied,
taking a long pull at the bottle and settling herself
against the edge of a computer console, the Void pilot
continued.
       "We need a test, to be certain of your loyalties,
Princess.  Bring me Akira's body, and you'll be one of
us.  Still interested?"
         The look in Allura's eyes was distant and chill.
         "You want Keith,"  she murmured.  "You'll get
him.  Or whatever's left after I'm through kicking his
patronizing ass.   And then, when I've passed your little
test, Tran, I'm challenging you for leadership of this
team!"
         The commander smiled slightly, hand on his
sidearm.
         "I'll be ready, Princess." 
         Taking another swig of the cold, bitter stuff in
the bottle, Allura rose and left the chamber.  She was
going to have to hurry if she wanted to nail Akira before
Lotor did. Already she felt more respected, more needed,
than she ever had on the Voltron Force.  Their loss. 
Hurrying her pace a bit, the princess returned to the
gate, plans running thick and fierce through her fevered
mind.      

_________________________________________________________

                                                
ARUS: 

     It was very late that same night when Merla made her
move.  Flooding the palace with a fast-acting knock-out
gas, she struck down its defenders and stormed in at the
head of an armed band.  Half of her skeleton crew went
after the pilots, while the other half broke into the
control center and downloaded an insidious virus that
soon infected and shut down the lions.  The warbeasts
would recover, eventually, but in the meantime they'd be
no more difficult to tow than a derelict ice-barge.   
     Merla was with the first team.  Leading her crew
into the men's quarters, she pointed out which doors led
to their rooms, hissing,
     "Hurry!  We must secure our captives and be away
before the gas wears off!  Triple wages for those who
return within five minutes!"
     They set off with alacrity.  Merla herself captured
Lance.  The gunner was draped across the bed, one hand on
his rifle, the other at his face.  A quick prod with the
muzzle of her gun proved him unconscious, so Merla
flipped him over, bound his hands in a set of metal
cuffs, and heaved him onto her shoulder.  She grinned a
little, then slapped him upon the backside, saying,
     "You were good, Sk'rova, but the money will be
better."
     Kalista apprehended Sven.  The pilot had returned to
his former quarters for the night to keep Merla's raiders
away from Romelle.  Evidently he'd been awake when the
gas struck, for he lay upon the floor in the middle of
the sitting room, sidearm tightly clutched in one hand.
      The Drule scanned him with a professional eye, then
knelt at his side and turned him over.  She cuffed him,
taking a bit more care than Merla had, then fished a
psionic slave collar from one of her pockets and snapped
it about his throat.  A quick touch activated the
terrible device, crushing Sven's mind so brutally that he
wouldn't be able to move, speak or even think without a
direct order.  Darting a swift look around to be sure no
one was watching, Kalista made a few quick adjustments to
the collar, then stood up, seized Sven by the front of
his flight suit, and slung him over her shoulder.
      Keith fell to another of Merla's bridge officers. 
She found him lying upon his bed, fully dressed, with a
holo-book at his side.  Judging from his relaxed posture
and peaceful expression, the gas had struck after he'd
drifted off.  The officer, a brown-haired human female
called Lex, looked Akira over with evident appreciation,
and decided to pat him down for weapons before bringing
him to Merla.  Better safe than sorry, after all.
      It took three sweating pirates to drag Hunk from
his room, though the big man wasn't putting up a fight. 
In fact, he was snoring, but three-hundred-fifty-two
pounds of chunk wasn't easily maneuvered.  The cuffs
didn't fit around his massive wrists, either, requiring a
spate of creativity with duct tape and a drape-pull. 
Somehow, the females managed, and LaChance joined the
pile at Merla's feet.
     Pidge arrived an instant later, and the collection
was complete.  The Felarra nodded her satisfaction, then
checked with the other crew.
     "Tamar, are the kittens in the basket?"
     A faint, crackly voice whispered from her comm unit,
saying,
     "Yes, Mistress.  All is in readiness."
      "Excellent.  Contact the Scylla, and have Sazri
initiate the tractor beam.  Everyone is to be aboard by
03:27:01, or they will be left behind.  Understood?"
      "Yes, Mistress!"
       Her crew made haste, for they knew that she meant
it.  Merla hadn't a sentimental bone in her body, and
would think nothing of delivering her own mother to the
authorities if it meant saving herself.  A scarce handful
of haads later, the lot of them boarded a cloaked landing
craft with their unconscious captives.  In all the haste
and confusion, nobody noticed an extra passenger.  

_________________________________________________________


     Keith woke up by slow degrees.  His universe
consisted mostly of headache, though there was a little
room around the edges for the soft rumble and vibration
of a warp engine to seep through.  He cracked an eyelid,
then shut it again, viscerally opposed to fluorescent
lighting just then.  Besides the nuclear blast in his
skull, something was wrong with his hands.  Cautiously
exploring the situation, Akira discovered that they were
tightly bound.  Further, he lay upon a hard little wall
cot, in a tiny, mostly barren cell.  Everything was going
according to plan....., he hoped.  

_________________________________________________________


    Merla stalked onto Scylla's bridge, Kalista close at
her side.  Taking her seat, the pirate nodded at her
Galran helmsman.
     "Take her out, Sazri, fast and low."
     The golden-eyed female nodded once.
     "Yes, Mistress.  Where to?"
     Merla smiled slightly.
     "The throne world.  I think that the emperor would
prefer his victims to be delivered fresh, don't you?"
      "Indeed, Captain."
      The lovely pirate looked on as young Sazri keyed in
a helm sequence, bringing Scylla hard about.  The sleek
corsair whipped around Arus in low orbit, slingshotted
around her sun, and then blasted away from the grubby
little backwater of a system at near-light speed.  There
was no pursuit 
      As Arus faded from the main veiw screen, Merla
turned to regard her silent first officer.
      "Well?  Not a bad pinch, wouldn't you say?"
      The Drule, a perpetual worry-wart, nodded slowly, a
decidedly gloomy look in her wide, ruby eyes.
       "Yes, Mistress...., but can Lotor be trusted to
pay, or will he simply take the slave-males and order us
off?"
       "Hmmmm...., a good question.  When we've put a bit
more distance between ourselves and that wretched little
dustball, start broadcasting word of
our....'acquisitions'.  I want every being in the galaxy
to know what we've got, and where it's headed.  If
nothing else, Lotor may abide by his promise to keep from
looking like a double-crossing back-stabber who welshes
on his debts.  Besides, he seems..... different, lately."
      Merla's golden, slit-pupiled eyes narrowed
thoughtfully, as she compared the emperor to the prince.
     "Taking the throne must've steadied him,"  she
decided.
      Kalista sighed pessimistically.
      "Or sharpened his acting skills," she muttered.
      One way or another, they'd find out soon.

_________________________________________________________

                                                

     Allura returned to the palace to find that the
Voltron Force had vanished.  Rounding on Koren, who was
clutching his head and moaning like a man just coming off
a three-day drunk, the princess grated,
      "Get me a ship!  I will intercept Merla and bring
them back!"
      But her chief courtier tried to restrain her. 
Squinting at his princess through blood-shot grey eyes,
Koren whispered,
       "Your Highness, it is too dan....*"
       Lura seized him by the lapels of his jacket,
snarling,
       "Finish that sentence, and you're fired, Koren!  I
am a pilot, leader of the Allied Worlds, and queen of
this planet.  NOTHING is too dangerous for me! 
Understood?!"
       The lame old minister nodded, goggle-eyed as a
frog.
       "Good,"  Lura responded, releasing him.  "Now; 
get....me......a.......ship!"

_________________________________________________________


     Lotor was in his office when he got Merla's
transmission.  It came in over his private line,
by-passing the staff of secretaries and operators who
usually screened incoming calls to the emperor. 
Ordinarily he would have let the computer answer it, but
he'd been signing documents all afternoon, and was
nothing loath for a change of pace.  Merla was diverting,
if nothing else.
     Keying open the line, he waited until her image
filled the viewscreen, then said,
     "Speak."
     The gorgeous Felarra bowed low.
     "Greetings, Your Imperial Highness!  I hope I find
you well?"
     "You find me busy.  Unless you can come up with an
excellent reason for this call, Wench, I will cut off the
transmission and change my number.  Well?"
      She smiled at him, a mischievous light dancing in
her golden eyes. 
      "Simple concern for my liege and lord isn't enough? 
Ah, what rude and boorish times are these! As it happens,
though, Your Imperial Magnificence, I have a delivery for
you."
      His expression sharpened.  Merla was a pain, but an
excellent privateer and bounty hunter.  If she had what
he hoped she did....,
      "Quit sniffing, and bite, Wench!  What have you
captured?!"
      "Very well, Your Imperial Manliness, I'll come to
the point.  The Voltron Force has been  caught, all but
the princess of Arus.  They lie chained in my slave hold
even now.  Better yet, I've captured the lions, as well. 
And all of this can be yours for the low, low price of
forty billion marks, plus one royal title!"
       "Forty....?!  I said TWENTY billion, Woman!"
       "Aye, for the pilots alone.  Anyone could do that. 
But with me, Dear Imperial Worshipfullness, you get
pilots AND lions, plus service with a smile, as always. 
Well.., have we got a deal, or do I peddle my wares
elsewhere?  I'm sure the Incarr would love to count the
Voltron Force among their trophies."
       Lotor growled, his yellow eyes seething with fury.
       "Thirty billion, take it or leave it!"
       Merla heaved a gusty, regretful sigh.
       "Much as it hurts, I'm going to have to accept
that laughable offer, Your Imperial Stingy-ness.  I'm
overstocked as it is, and what with the spring line
coming in, everything must go.  See you at the port in
four rihadts, then.  Later!" 
       And with that, the maddening female cut off the
transmission.  Lotor waited until his blood pressure
returned to normal, then hit his desk-top comm switch.
       "MOTHER!!!"  he bellowed.  "Get up here at once!!" 
 

_________________________________________________________

                                                    
Unable to quite catch the Scylla, which was one of the
fastest ships in the galaxy, Allura settled for tracking
her.  Unsurprisingly, she headed directly for Galra.  The
princess knew that she should turn back, for the throne
world was too big a mouthful for a lone assailant, but
she refused to return to Tran empty-handed.  She wanted
command of the NVF, and if that meant battling Lotor for
the right to kill Major Akira, then so be it. 
      Cutting her vessel's heat signature and
transmissions, Allura drifted in Scylla's wake like a
tiger shark.

_________________________________________________________
                                                

     At the appointed time, Bandor took his fleet out of
orbit and began the warp.  Romelle was beside him, white
as new milk.  Knowing what was worrying her, Bandor took
his sister's hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
     "It's going to be alright, Roma.  By this time
tomorrow Lotor will be in prison, the galaxy will be
free, and you and Sven can go back to making out at my
council meetings!"
     Forgetting her worry, Romelle reddened.
     "Bandor!  We NEVER...!"
     The young king made a rude noise.
     "You know, I had to tell Ambassador Twik that that's
how humans consult each other on important political
matters?  Lord Koren almost had heart failure when Twik
tried to consult him on the open trade issue!"
      Romelle sputtered a bit, then changed the subject,
icily gathering what few shreds of dignity remained to
her.
      "Shouldn't you be plotting a course?!" she snapped
      "Already done,"  her red-headed brother grinned. 
"Besides, I've always got time for my precious big sister
and her pre-verbal hulk of a husband!  Heh!  I can just
imagine his pick up line: 'you wanna?'  And there you
are, lisping, 'Sure!' "
      Her slap left a glowing red handprint, and could be
heard all over the bridge, but Bandor was too busy
laughing to care.  In transports of embarrased wrath,
Romelle stomped off to the hold, where her strike force
was waiting.  Bandor almost fell off of the captains'
chair.
    "Oh......, goddess!  That was fun!"   Looking around
at the grinning bridge crew, the king wiped tears of
mirth from his eyes, adding,  "Anyone else need therapy?"
     
_________________________________________________________


     Lotor did not meet the ship in port.  It would have
been unseemly for the emperor to be seen waiting at the
dock like a luggage handler.  Instead he sent Vraghur and
thirteen hundred of his fiercest warriors to escort Merla
and her prisoners to the palace.  The event was widely
televised, for folk all over the galaxy had caught the
pirate's triumphal announcement, and everyone wanted to
see if it really was the Voltron Force she was bringing
to Galra.  If they expected to steal a glimpse of the
infamous pirate they were disappointed, though; Vraghur
kept the paparazzi well back with a few impromptu
executions, and the lot of them made it to the palace
unlensed.
      Keith twisted at his bonds, which were neither
fake, nor loose.  He glanced over at Lance as they were
prodded across the spaceport.  The gunner's face was pale
and drawn, and not just because of his headache.  It was
begining to look as if Merla had betrayed them. 
Desperate for ideas, Akira looked around at the others. 
Sven shuffled along like a sleepwalker, his face blank,
his eyes empty.  The collar had smashed mind and will,
rendering the tall pilot utterly powerless.  Hunk was the
focus of at least thirty rifles, for his battle-rage was
well-known, and deeply feared.  Beside him Pidge stumbled
along under the crushing weight of a localized
heavy-gravity field.  Nearly twice what he'd grown up
with on Balto, the field left him barely able to lift his
head, much less bound away, or fight.
      A wealthy woman now, and duchess of the outer rim,
Merla sauntered along before the captive Voltron Force,
chattering gaily at Kalista, who responded in gloomy
monosyllables.  Galra hadn't changed a bit, she noticed
idly.  The heavy, smoggy clouds still sagged low over the
squat buildings.  The cold air still stung her eyes and
nostrils, threatening to bleach the color from her wild
mane.  It spoke volumes about Lotor that he chose to
remain here, rather than relocate his capital to one of
the less foul-tempered worlds of the galaxy.  But....
    " 'To each his own', said the lady as she kissed her
cow,"  Merla quipped, shrugging.
    Kalista gave her an odd look, which Merla ignored. 
The Drules weren't noted for their strong sense of humor,
after all.
     Lotor was waiting for them in a bleak processing
room high in the east prison tower.  Built of stone, the
chamber featured a vaulted ceiling, a few scattered wall
torches, and the usual high, glassless windows.  Grey
snow lay below the sills in packed drifts.
     The emperor sat behind a heavy desk of carved wood,
nursing a glass of blood-red wine.  He smiled a little
when Merla's group was shown in.  Eyes flicking from the
pirate to Akira and then the rest of the force, Lotor got
to his feet.
      Keith struggled to free himself as the emperor
approached.  He had to get away, not only because he and
his men were in imminent danger, but because Bandor's
fleet would be warping to Galra soon.  If he wasn't able
to complete his mission, they'd be shot down as soon as
they emerged.
       Lotor paused before Merla.
       "Well done, Wench.  It seems that once again
you've accomplished the impossible.  And just how did you
manage this miracle?"
      The pirate gave him a saucy look, tossing back her
tangled magenta hair.
      "It was a tough fight, Highness, but clean living
prevailed in the end..  Now, about that bounty....,"
       The emperor shook his head, a glacial smile
touching his handsome features, ever so briefly.
       "Not so fast, Tzezrah.  I'm still not convinced
that these are the real Voltron pilots, or, if they are,
that this isn't part of some elaborate trap.  After all,
you managed to bring them in awfully neat and tidy,
didn't you?"
       Merla's jaw dropped, but she couldn't think of
anything to say.  Her weight shifted uneasily from one
foot to the other, almost as though she would have liked
to run. Lotor noticed, and his smile grew suddenly
broader.  Haggar had been correct, he decided, something
strange WAS happening here.
      He stalked toward the defenseless men, drawing his
sidearm.  Their guards kicked the five Sk'roven to their
knees as the emperor approached, and managed to bow
themselves, for no one stood tall in the presence of
Lotor.
      Keith started to say something, but was cut off
when Vraghur pistol-whipped the back of his throbbing
head.
      "Hold your tongue before your betters, Slave!"  the
officer snarled, lifting his hand for another strike. 
      Akira ignored the pain, and his own probable doom
long enough to growl,
      "Damn you, Lotor!  I'm gonna break free, and when I
do..!"
      "You'll what?  Talk me to death? I'm afraid I've no
time to listen to one of your long-winded speeches today,
Major, amusing as that might be.  You see, either you've
lost, or this is a double-cross, and I mean to find out
which."  Scanning the row of prisoners, his eyes fell
upon Sven, collared and passive.
       "You.  Get up."
       The Eurasian pilot obeyed, rising to stand before
Lotor.  The emperor studied him for a moment, taking in
the collar's furiously blinking activity lights.  It
seemed to be straining terribly to contain Ericksen's
mind.
      Extending his pistol, Lotor said,
      "Take this."  Then, when Sven complied, he added,
"Point it against the side of your head."
      He would have ordered the man to shoot himself, but
Lance broke away from his guards and surged to his feet,
shouting,
      "Bastard!  Leave him alone!"
      He was smashed to the floor again by a volley of
rifle butts, pinned there by a guard's heavy boot.
      Lotor regarded him for a moment.  Thanks to the
memories that his predecessor had stolen from Ericksen,
he knew the other members of the Voltron Force very well,
indeed.  Not that it troubled him any.  Knowing that
Calvin and Ericksen were good friends, he decided to
torment the both of them.  Retrieving his pistol from
Sven, he drove a rock-hard fist into the pilot's stomach,
followed it up with a brutal upper-cut that nearly broke
his jaw.  Sven didn't defend himself, of course; he
couldn't.  With blow after savage blow, Lotor proceeded
to beat his helpless victim unconscious.
     Lance struggled and cursed, challenging...., almost
begging... Lotor to fight him.  Pidge began to cry, while
Hunk had to be clubbed to the floor repeatedly.  Keith
fought so hard to free himself that he managed to tear
one hand out of its cuff, losing a great deal of skin and
breaking his thumb in the process.  He hurled himself at
Lotor, but was intercepted by the grinning Vraghur before
he went three feet.  Meanwhile,  Merla fingered her own
weapons and forced herself to be still.  Beside the
pirate captain, Kalista dug her nails into her palms
until the blood ran.  To a Drule, there was no more
terrible fate than dying without putting up a fight.  And
she herself had fastened the collar....
    Enjoying their distress, the emperor laughed and
tossed Sven's battered form through the nearest window.
     "Well," he announced, in the stunned silence that
followed.  "That was invigorating!  Vraghur, take this
trash to a holding cell, and see that they are well
guarded.  They will be publically executed in the
morning.  Call all of the networks, too; I want full
coverage."
     The officer bowed low, a satisfied smile upon his
scaly face.
     "Yes, Sire. It will be done."


_________________________________________________________
                                                

     The lions had been towed to an enormous hangar, then
fastened down with tractor beams of hideous strength. 
Not that the warbeasts were putting up much of a fight. 
The virus Merla's crew had infected them with still held
them in its thrall, tying up their computers in an
endless loop of unsolvable calculations.  By themselves,
they'd never break free.
     Fortunately, they weren't alone.  A small figure
lurked nearby, in a shadowed corner of the hangar. 
Waiting until the scanning lenses focused their attention
on another part of the huge building, the girl crossed
the hangar at a broken, crouching run, and succeeded in
reaching Green.  Barely.  Panting, she crammed herself
into the space between the lion's right foreleg, and
warm, thrumming body just as the camera panned across
again.  Miraculously, it didn't spot her.  Shaking with
relieved tension, the dark-skinned girl timed the
scanning lens's next arc, and burst from her hiding place
to the upper boarding hatch.  She got it open just in
time, and dove within.  Sweaty, panting and scared out of
her wits, it was a few minutes before Xiomara could bring
herself to continue.
   At last she gathered herself enough to go on.  Pulling
a personal computer from her pocket, the girl hooked it
up to Green's instrument panel, and ran a thorough
diagnostic.  A long stream of jumbled alien characters
scrolled across the screen, most of them familiar to her
thanks to Pidge's incessant shop talk.  Pushing the curly
hair off of her face, Xiomara bent over the little
computer, her fingers flying over its micro-thin
keyboard.  She had to isolate and delete the virus
somehow, and swiftly, for something told her that Pidge
was in deadly peril. Warming to her task, the girl
blocked away everything else, and dug in.
     Not far away, another skulker stole into the hangar,
seeking out the Blue Lion.  This one was blonde, and
would have been beautiful, had her face not been so
terribly hard.  Allura gained the safety of Blue's
cockpit, but there found herself stymied.  No matter how
often she pounded upon the restart button, the beast
wouldn't come to life.  The princess cursed furiously. 
How was she to salvage Akira without the lions?

_________________________________________________________

                                                
     By miracle or design, Sven hadn't fallen very far. 
He'd ended up wedged between the tower wall and a massive
scanning dish.  There was an aluminum bar across his
chest, just under his arms, and it was this that had
saved him.  Not a very comfortable perch, and when
Kalista's rigged collar finally shut off, the pain of his
cramped position and beaten body soon roused him.  The
pain in his head was indescribable, making it nearly
impossible to think.  He hung there a moment, plucked at
by an icy, reeking wind, pelted by burning hail.  Galra,
again, dammit.  Disoriented and weak, Sven fought down a
wave of blind panic.  Looking down, he saw nothing but a
long, terrible drop.  Some twelve feet above him was what
looked like the sill of a window, though he couldn't be
certain from this angle.  To his left, the stone wall
curved smoothly away, offering little in the way of hand-
or footholds.  To the right lay another window, eight,
maybe ten,  feet away.  He stared at it for long, drowsy
while, feeling the cold creep slowly deeper.  Then,
because if he was going to die anyway, he'd rather be
doing something about it than hanging there like laundry,
Sven began to move.  First he squirmed free of the bar,
then slid onto a three-inch ledge and crept toward the
distant window.  The transit took awhile, with small
victories scored in inches and heartbeats.  At last his
fingers curled around the stone sill, and he pulled
himself through. 
      He lay there a moment on the snowy stone floor,
then raised his head and looked around.  The room he
found himself in was dark and deserted.  Though the pilot
wasn't able to think very clearly, many years of survival
training told him that it was death to lie down in
freezing weather.  He got to his feet, and stumbled away
from the window.
      Shortly thereafter an unwary guard gave his all to
the cause, providing Ericksen with several pistols, a
long knife, and a warm jacket.  Now what?  He was in no
shape for deep thought, but Sven did eventually muscle a
scrap of idea through his throbbing head:  Lotor. 
Somehow or rather, Lotor was at the tangled root of this. 
He rested his pounding forehead against a cold stone
column for the briefest instant, easing the ache.  Then,
knowing what had to be done, Sven readied his weapons and
set off across the shadowed palace, stalking Galra's
sadistic emperor like a leopard. 

_________________________________________________________
                                                

     After thirty-eight minutes and a great deal of
cursing, Xiomara succeeded in isolating the virus.  She
studied it for a bit, analyzing lines of code and program
locci, until she'd got a feel for how the thing was
constructed, and how it was tying up the lions' memory. 
Then she minimized that window, and began working on a
counter-program.  She hit paydirt at last, creating an
infection that degraded the alien program in a matter of
minutes.
   Green came to vibrant life again an instant later, her
eyes lighting up and internal systems rebooting with
lightning speed.
     "YES!!!!"  Xiomara exulted, punching at the air. 
Now all that remained was to clean up the others.  The
girl hurriedly tapped in a set of commands, advising
Green of the situation and instructing her.  She felt
something brush her thoughts then, curious and wary. 
     "It's just me,"  the girl whispered, feeling the
lion's mighty presence all about her.  "I'm Pidge's
friend, honest!  He's in trouble, and we've got to help."
     Green's assent was a friendly psionic nudge.  Then,
following Xiomara's orders, the lioness extruded a set of
glowing link cables, and hooked herself up to Red, Blue,
Black, and Gold.  Soon the anti-viral program was
downloaded to the other war-beasts.  All that the worried
girl could do then was cross her fingers and wait.


_________________________________________________________


      This cell was much smaller than the last had been,
and far underground..  There were no windows, and the
only door was barred by a curtain of shimmering force. 
There would be no crossing that.  The guards had left
them alone, which was something, at least.
       Keith managed to work free of his remaining cuff,
this time without breaking anything.  Hunk, who'd been
bound only with nylon rope and duct tape, managed to
scrape out of his bonds as well, then helped liberate
Lance and Pidge. 
       The commander checked his watch, then cursed
softly.
       "Dammit!  It's fifteen-forty," he muttered. 
"Bandor'll be here in less than thirty minutes.  We've
got to reach our lions and knock out that defense system,
ASAP, or it's all over.  Pidge, get us out."
       Akira kept his voice down, and moved his lips as
little as possible, fearing that the guards might be
nearby, listening in. 
       After a comforting hug from LaChance, Chibi pulled
out his pocket computer, and began to tinker with the
door's shield system.  After a moment or two, it
flickered and went down.  The four of them stole out into
the corridor, then, cautious and slow.  Around the first
bend, they came upon their guards, hunkered over a desk
and playing at dice.  Deeply involved in their game, the
Galrans never noticed Hunk's stealthy approach.  Creeping
close, he smashed their heads together, stripped them of
comm equipment and weapons, then tossed them into the
abandoned cell, and keyed up the force field.
      "There!"  the big man grunted fiercely, "That
oughta hold 'em."
      It would have been wiser to silence the Galrans
permanently, but neither Keith nor Lance felt like
arguing with Hunk, just then.  Instead, they divided the
weapons between them, and hurried on, following the path
mapped out by Pidge's computer.

_________________________________________________________


     He'd caught Lotor's scent, and then his thoughts,
smug, dark and satisfied.  The emperor was in his
quarters, sporting with a terrified slave girl.  Sven
blocked their thoughts with difficulty, for he hadn't
much psionic strength left.  Something troubled him about
Lotor's mental signature, though.  It seemed....
fuzzy..., almost doubled.  As if more than one person
were thinking with the emperor's mind.  Shaking his head,
Ericksen put it down to his own foggy mental state, and
resumed stalking his prey.  Just a little further to go.
      The guards at the door he finished with no
difficulty whatsoever.  They never saw him, and had no
idea what was happening until far too late to act. 
Tossing them aside, he gave the unlocked door a gentle
push.  It  swung open soundlessly.  Nothing jumped out at
him, nor did any alarms go off, so Sven went in,
following the slave-girl's tearful pleas to Lotor's bed
chamber. 
     The pretty red-head saw him before Lotor did.  Her
eyes widened, but she made no sound.  She was on the bed,
pinned beneath the writhing emperor, who appeared to be
unarmed, and largely unclothed. 
     Sven seized Lotor's shoulder, and ripped him off of
the girl.  Switching his grip, he slammed the shocked
monarch against the wall with bone-crushing force.  As
recognition, rage and fear warred across Lotor's face,
Sven grunted,
     "Hej.  I have something for you, from Romelle." 
     And then, jamming the muzzle of his stolen pistol
against Lotor's temple, Sven pulled the trigger.
      A flash of heat, the stench of burning flesh, and
then the emperor's headless body collapsed to his feet. 
Strangely, though, Lotor's thought patterns were still
present.  A scream from the girl warned Sven that
something was behind him, but too late. 
       Someone seized his throat and left wrist in a
choking-tight grip.  The gun clattered to the floor then,
as cold, metallic fingers sank into the flesh of Sven's
neck, stopping just short of tearing his throat out.
      "Ericksen, isn't it?"  A familiar, hissing voice
taunted.  "Welcome to my palace.  I see that you've
already made yourself at home."  And then a weird, mad
little laugh.  The twisted, half-mechanical thing that
had been Lotor pulled Sven's gun arm up behind his back
hard enough to dislocate the pilot's shoulder,
whispering,
       "Your friends are out and about somewhere, causing
trouble.  What do you say you and I take a little walk?"
      
_________________________________________________________


     Meaning to find and rescue Pidge, Xiomara left the
safety of the Green Lion, or thought she had.  Someone
joined the girl as she dashed back across the echoing
hangar.  Sprightly, metallic and bright green,  the
lion's avatar decided to accompany her new friend.  
Xiomara didn't question the help, only grinning a little
at Green's antic behavior.  The lioness seemed very much
to enjoy the freedom of her smaller, more maneuverable
form.  At any rate, she certainly leapt from floor, to
window ledge, to stair landing a great deal, trailing her
glowing "fuse" behind her like a life line.  At one
point, she even ran on all fours across the ceiling,
fluid as an insect.
      Together, Green and Xiomara left the hangar, making
their way along a series of twisting passages toward the
prison.  Then disaster struck.  A couple of Galran
officers on a routine walk-through discovered Green's
line, and began following it.  Sensing their approach,
the lioness thrust Xiomara into a storage closet, and
then vanished, breaking up into a fog of pixels that
sparked out of sight like the residue of a fireworks
display.  The line disappeared as well, frustrating the
officers' search.  They continued up the passage, cursing
and calling, but missed the young girl who crouched in
the closet, biting at her own hand to keep quiet.
     She waited a bit, until all sound of the searching
men had faded.  Then, warily, quietly, Xiomara crept from
her hiding place.  Without Green, the hall seemed very
dark suddenly, and deathly still.
     "Oh, well,"  she whispered, trying to encourage
herself.  "I can do it on my own...., there's not that
much further to go."
      Then a line of glowing light whipped around the
corner, lightning fast..  It flashed up to Xiomara, and
broadened at the very end to form a slender woman of
shining green metal.
     "You're back!"   Xiomara cheered,  hurling herself
into Green's rock-hard arms.  She ended up with a choice
collection of colorful bruises, but didn't care a bit. 
Sometimes it was nice having an adult around (not that
she'd ever admit it).
      Taking the avatar's hand, she started tugging her
up the passage.
      "Come on, we're running way short on time!"
      They rounded a corner, and nearly collided with
Keith's team, who were headed in the opposite direction
at a fast trot.
      When they'd put away their guns and untangled
themselves, the remnants of the Voltron Force crowded
around Xiomara and Green.
      "Aw, come on, stop!"  Pidge begged, as Green
ruffled his curly hair and straightened his collar like
an anxious mother.  "Not in front of the guys, PLEASE?!"
      Then, turning to face Xiomara, he demanded.
      "What are YOU doing here?!" 
       "Rescuing you, Dimwit!"  his friend responded
tartly.
       "The lions,"  Keith broke in, placing a heavy hand
upon Xiomara's shoulder.  "Have they all been
reactivated?"
       Xiomara consulted her computer.
       "Um, no.  Not yet.  According to my MPC, they've
got less than three minutes download time left, though."
       Green backed her up with a vigorous nod, the first
time the lion left off caressing Pidge to  take part in
the conversation.
        "Alright, then, let's go."  The commander
ordered, starting down the passage.  "They should be
coming on line by the time we get there."
        But Lance hesitated.
        "Keith, man...,"  he started, seizing Akira's
arm.  "I can't go with you."
        "What?!  Lance, what the hell are you talking
about?!  Of course you can...,"
        "It's Sven,"  the gunner cut in, "He's alive, and
in serious damn trouble.  Don't ask me how I know, I just
do.  I've gotta go help him!"
        Keith paused a moment, but only that.  Not
wishing to repeat his earlier mistake, he nodded.
        "I understand.  You go on, and do what you have
to.  The rest of us can handle a few cannons and shield
generators.  Good luck!"
        Lance clasped his hand, briefly, muttering,
        "Thanks!"  Then he turned, and sprinted back up
the passage.
        Pidge looked at Xiomara.  Getting the nod from
Hunk, he asked,
       "You can fly Green, can't you?  I've talked you
through it a couple million times in simulation."
        Placing her hands upon her hips, the girl gave
him a sardonic look.
        "Well, yeah, needless to say!  After all, the
best man for the job is usually a woman!"
        He grinned.
        "I'll debate sexual stereotypes with you after
the battle, Xio.  In the meantime, I'm going with Lance. 
He'll be needing help."
       LaChance patted his shoulder, saying,
     "Watch y'rself, Half-pint.  Don't make me come back
here and hafta bail you out!"
     "Absolutely not!  And take care, yourself,  Big
Guy!"
      Moments later, he was gone.

_________________________________________________________

    Blue woke up bellowing, for he sensed the danger that
his pilot was in, and wanted to rush to the man's aid.
Allura sank into the link, however, and forced Aojishi to
do her bidding.  Unwillingly, the mighty lion took to the
air, just as Bandor's flagship burst through the warp
hole over Galra.  Planning to lull Akira out of hiding,
the princess began firing upon the throne world's defense
network of orbital ion cannons, blasting them to tiny,
sparking bits as they were brought to bear on the
emerging Allied fleet.
   She was joined instants later by Gold, Black, and a
rather wobbly Green Lion.
     Dodging and twisting,  weaving a curtain of force
rays and anti-matter blasts, the four lions blazed a path
through Galra's protective mine field, clearing a way
down for Romelle's landing craft.
      Tracing the Galran battle transmissions to a nearby
psi-station, Akira cut away from the aeriel battle to lob
a few missiles at it.  The building was well sheilded,
but repeated strikes eventually overwhelmed the
generator, allowing an electro blast of searing power to
get through.  The psi-station erupted in a white-hot
fireball, leaving the Galran destroyers, bat-fighters and
gun crews on their own for a few minutes.  Then another
psi-station came on line, taking over for the first, and
Keith went after that one, as well, never noticing that
Blue was fast closing in on him from behind.

_________________________________________________________

                                                
   Sven had to bite his lip to keep from screaming, for
Lotor's metal fingers delivered frequent electric shocks
to speed him along.  The mad prince talked constantly as
he forced Ericksen up the stairs, gloating about his
plans for the lions, the princess, and the universe
itself. 
    "They think they've won.  I can hear them laughing at
us, but we'll fix that soon enough.  When they see what
I've caught, they'll have to withdraw, won't they?"
     He jerked Sven's dislocated arm up a little harder
then, eliciting a sharp grunt.
     "You see, my friends are coming.  They'll be here
soon, and we can't have this place untidy with company
coming, now can we?  The lion pilots will see you,
Ericksen, and they'll stop fighting.  Then.... I'll
destroy them, and you, and every other living thing in
the galaxy!  It must be cleansed, don't you see? 
Well....., DON'T YOU?!"
      Just barely managing to shield himself from a
psionic stab of horrendous power, Sven grated out,
      "Nej!  I see that you're a..... *uh*.....
raving..., damn..... lunatic!"
      That earned him a brutal punch to the kidneys. 
When the pain fog lifted, and he could think again, Sven
decided to switch tactics.  They were almost to the tower
roof, and he didn't intend to allow himself to be used as
a hostage.  Slowly, the beginnings of a desperate plan
came to him.
      Lotor went on and on talking as he hauled the pilot
up the stairs.  To save strength and will power, Sven
stopped fighting him.  They reached the top of the stairs
at last, and Lotor kicked open the door, then dragged
Sven through onto the roof.
       Focusing his mind oddly, the maddened prince began
to transmit like a radio antenna, sending a message to
each of the lions.
      "Attention Voltron Force!"  he began.  "If you'll
look this way, you'll notice that I have something that
belongs to you!  I'll rip his heart out, Sk'roven, unless
you surrender your lions, and stop fighting!  You have
thirty seconds to decide, before I start painting the
walls with his blood.  Twenty-nine seconds.  Twenty-eight
seconds....!"  And so on and so forth.  As Lotor counted
off, Sven took advantage of his distraction, slipping
into the prince's mad, feverish mind.  He didn't have
time for anything fancy.  No weapons, and no real match
for Lotor's hideous strength.  All that remained was the
edge of the tower.  Strong or not, Lotor couldn't laugh
off a thousand foot drop.  Slowly, delicately, he planted
a small suggestion into the prince's thoughts, urging him
closer and closer to the edge.


_________________________________________________________

                                                

     "Omigod.....!"  Keith breathed.  Lotor had become a
thing of horror.  Half metal, half flesh, he was a
tortured mish-mash of robot and man; the shining metal
creeping queasily back and forth over wasted, bluish
skin, his eyes like yellow strobes.  Worse yet, he had
Sven.  Keith felt a sudden, cold hand clutch at his
heart.  He knew that one man wasn't worth throwing away
the lions and the mission for, and yet......,  Once
before he'd made the "right" decision, and lost his best
friend.  He couldn't let it happen again.
     Flipping on the comm, he called out hoarsely,
     "Let him go, Lotor, we'll do whatever you want, you
have my word!"
     Hunk and Xiomara were swift to agree, though the
Princess was oddly silent.  She seemed to be having a
great deal of trouble with Blue.
     Lotor laughed, the sound like a dull knife on bone.
     "Well done, Major!  I knew you'd see things my way! 
Now, all lions are to drop their shields and withdraw to
the following coordinates, where they'll be blown to
atoms by my orbital cannons!"  And the mad prince
proceeded to reel off a set of coordinates which would
place the team between Galra and her nearer moon, well
within reach of the big guns.
      Sven tried to protest, but Lotor's metal fingers
were driving their way between his ribs, feeling for his
heart.   Meanwhile, the lions were withdrawing as
ordered, and Bandor's fleet was being picked off like
shooting-gallery aliens.   He had only seconds to act.
       Ignoring the pain, Sven turned up the pressure on
Lotor's mind, urging him toward the edge, and a fatal
plunge.  Distracted by the lions' withdrawal, the prince
never noticed.


_________________________________________________________


    Against all odds, Romelle had evaded flak, bat
fighters, and a swarm of shrieking surface-to-air
missiles, and landed her flat-bellied troop carrier just
outside the city limits.  Plunging almost straight down
through the grubby atmosphere, her ship hit the ground
with a metallic thud, sending a spray of slushy mud in
all directions.  She was lowering the ramp to deploy her
men, when the pain hit.  Like five hot knives plunging
through her left side, wave after wave of agony convulsed
her.  She couldn't see, couldn't move, could barely
think.
      "Ma'am?!"  Lieutenant Jarvis questioned anxiously,
putting a hand on her bowed shoulder. " "Princess?! 
What's wrong?!" 
      Straightening, the officer bellowed back to the
hold,
      "Medic!  Get a medic up here!  Something's wrong
with Her Majesty!"
     But Romelle shook him off.  Strengthening her
shields, she blocked away the tansmitted sensations, and
forced herself to act, trying not to imagine what was
happening to Sven.  She could help him best by giving
Lotor something more to worry about.  Brushing away tears
of pain and fear, the princess growled,
      "No, Jarvis,  I'll be fine.  We must leave the ship
and attack before they realize where we've landed!  NOW,
damn it!  Move!"
       Capping her body armor with a night-vision helmet,
the princess seized a laser rifle and keyed open the
ramp.  As Jarvis sprayed the surrounding mile and a half
with cannon fire, Romelle led her troops down the ramp
and onto Galran soil.  Shouting wildly, firing at
anything that moved, they raced toward the palace.

_________________________________________________________
                                               
      The rest of the fleet was being cut to pieces.  Now
that the lions were out of the fight, Galra's bulwark of
orbital cannons, fighters and battleships were free to
close in.  Bandor lost twenty-three ships in seven
minutes, and was perilously close to losing the rest. 
Through the bridge's main view screen he saw the
incandescent fireball of metal and flesh that signaled
the death of another destroyer.  The Tanzia, this time.
     Ordering his remaining vessels into a textbook
VanSpheeris battle array, he pooled their shields and cut
the firing rate by half, to save power.  Five minutes, he
decided.  If Akira wasn't able to perform a miracle
within the next five minutes, he was going to have to
pick up the landing party and warp for home.

_________________________________________________________
                                                
     Kalista Tamath flirted with the armory guards, doing
a very good impression of a Drule female in her brief
fertile period.
     "You know,"  she murmured, stretching in a manner
that caused her tight costume to cling most intriguingly,
"There are so few REAL men in the galaxy, that a warrior
is hard put to it to find satisfaction, anymore.  When do
you boys go off duty, hmmmm?"
      "Uhhhh,  er.... ukt-grotstiv rihadt, Tzezrah!"
     Golden eyes bulging, the distracted pair fell all
over themselves telling her when their shift ended. 
Another two rihadts, approximately.
      "Oh,"  she pouted.  "That long?  But what am I to
do in the meantime?"
      Merla didn't stick around for the rest of the
conversation.  Slipping in behind the Galrans, who'd been
lured away from the portal by Kalista's subtle backing,
the pirate entered the armory.
     It was a vast and complicated building, run chiefly
by computers and psi-slaves.  Besides being a storage
house for mundane, explosive ammunition, the armory was
also the source of charge for the massive ion cannons
that ringed Galra.  If anything unfortunate were to
happen to the armory....., a bomb, say...., every one of
the throne world's defensive cannons would be blown apart
by the resultant lethal overcharge.
      There was a valved exhaust port a few hundred feet
from the door.  Pulling a dab of plastic explosive from
one of her belt compartments, Merla stalked over to the
busy, computer operated valve.  Working swiftly, she
molded the plastic around the valve, then added a
detonator, and an electronic timing device.  When the job
was done, she set the timer for a ten minute delay,
turned, and fled for the open door, scattering smaller
pulse grenades as she went.
     "After all,"   she excused herself,  "A little chaos
is good for business!"


_________________________________________________________


     Mad with fury, frantic to reach Sven, Blue did the
unthinkable; he disobeyed his creator's first
commandment.  Pulling free of their link, he sent a
near-lethal pulse of psionic energy through Allura's
vulnerable mind, ending her conscious interference. 
Then, free to act on his own, the mighty lion cut away
from the others, and thundered down to the palace.

_________________________________________________________

                                                
     The cannons took aim.  In a few very short minutes,
they'd blast the remaining lions to scrap.  Keith nearly
jumped from his seat when Blue peeled away.
     "Dammit!"  he muttered, "What's she trying to
pull?!"

_________________________________________________________

                                                
     Almost there.  Maybe another foot to go, and he
could flip Lotor over the edge to his death on the jagged
rocks below.  But would it happen soon enough to save
Lara and the rest?  He hurried their pace a bit, inching
ever closer to the parapets.  The laughing prince made it
almost easy,  too distracted by revenge, and his own
madness, to sense what his hostage was doing.
     Then several things happened at once:  Blue roared
away from the other lions, hurtling at the tower like a
bomb.  A building about ten miles from the palace
exploded violently, sending flaming shrapnel all over the
city, and pulses of deadly feedback to the ion cannons,
which in turn set off hundreds of secondary eruptions all
over the sky.  A screaming tide of shock troops and freed
slaves stormed the palace....  And the tower door burst
open, kicked out by Lance and Pidge.
     Taking advantage of the chaos, Sven flipped Lotor
over his back and off the battlements.  Unfortunately,
the prince did not lose his grip.  Sven went over, too. 
Reacting instinctively, he caught at the edge as he
started to fall, saving both of them.  He hadn't a very
good grip, though, and was burdened with several hundred
pounds of dead weight besides.  In his weakened
condition, Sven couldn't hang on.
      Digging his fingers in like the claws of a cat,
Lotor began climbing Sven like a human life-line, meaning
to save himself.  If he gained the refuge of the tower,
he'd find a way to escape, Ericksen realized, and return
to trouble the galaxy again.  It couldn't be allowed.
     In his mind, he heard Romelle's voice again,
pleading,
     "....choose us?"
     'I'm sorry, Princess,'  he sent.  'I can't.'
     And then he closed his eyes and let go.    
     Something seized his wrists, arresting Sven's plunge
before he'd dropped six inches.  Looking up, the pilot
saw Pidge, straining mightily to pull him back up.  Then
Lance appeared,  a pistol in either hand.  Leaning over,
the gunner took swift aim, and shot the screaming prince
in the head. The bolt of searing light missed Sven by
scant inches, drilling straight between Lotor's golden
eyes. Two further shots to his mechanical hand loosened
the prince's grip, sending him plunging down the side of
the tower, shrieking curses the whole way. 
     An instant later, Pidge hauled Sven back over the
edge to safety, assisted by Lance, who'd flung his
weapons aside to help.   They collapsed together atop the
tower roof, bloodied, grimed and battered.  Embracing his
friend, Lance laughed,
     "Dumb-ass!  Couldn't stop with ONE Lotor.  Noooo! 
You had to go for the set!"
     "Well....,"  Sven grunted, shortly before losing
consciousness,  "He needed some killing..., both of him."
      Grinning, Lance patted Ericksen on the shoulder,
then set about binding the worst of his wounds.
      "Next time, how 'bout informing the rest of us? 
Cooperation, Dude; it's the wave of the future."

_________________________________________________________
                                                

     Overhead, the Black, Green and Gold lions streaked
into battle, making short work of Galra's stunned and
leaderless fleet.  Xiomara had a little trouble, at
first, but green helped her out, and the girl was soon
flying and fighting like a pro.  Blue didn't join the
fight, choosing instead to hover by the tower and shoot
down any bat fighters or missiles that ventured too
close.
     Merla wasn't so reticent.  Racing away from the
fiery armory and back to Scylla, the pirate captain
lifted off and began blasting apart Galran dreadnoughts
alongside Bandor.  Startled at first, the young king soon
forgot his mistrust and used her to shore up his
faltering upper flank.
      Romelle's troops captured the palace after a
vicious fire fight, marching it's defenders out into the
main square, and freeing every prisoner and slave in the
place.  Then, duty seen to, she raced to her injured
mate's side.
      The conquest of Galra took a little over fourteen
hours.


_________________________________________________________

                                                

   Sven woke up to find himself in bed, somewhere in
Lotor's palace.  He suffered a moment of confusion then,
uncertain what had happened.  Too weak to effectively
shield himself, he was picking up thoughts from everyone
in the vicinity, including Blue, and Romelle, who was
asleep in a chair,  her head and folded arms resting on
his bed.  No one seemed panicked, or upset, so he allowed
himself to relax.  Just as well, really; he didn't feel
strong enough to tackle a thorny shrub just then.
    Reaching out, Sven touched the sleeping princess's
red-gold hair, waking her.  She sat up, bleary eyed and
yawning, then saw him, and smiled.
    "You should go to bed, Ljusa,"  he told her.  "You're
going to get a cramp sleeping that way."
    Romelle nodded.
    "I know.  I just didn't want you to wake up alone,
not after all that's happened."
     So he hitched himself over a bit, making room for
her on the bed.  The princess climbed in and snuggled
close, careful not to put too much pressure on his
bandaged ribs.  He would recover, Hunk had said, but he'd
need a lot of rest and TLC first. 
     In the warm, pleasant blending of thoughts....,
hers, his, and a faint sparkle even from the baby.....,
she found herself recalling Bandor's rowdy comments. 
Catching her memory, Sven smiled.
   "He said that?  Little bastard...!" 
    Romelle started to reply, but was silenced by a
sudden weird shift in reality. The universe faded out,
then came back again, forming out of swirling dark mist. 
The colors were muted, Sven noticed, and Romelle had
vanished entirely.  There was an eerie, echoing quality
to even the slightest noise, indicating that he'd been
shifted to some sort of half-phase, a place between
realities, barren and cold.  He got up, then, for another
had entered the room.  It was the witch, back in her
beautiful phase, and inscrutable as ever.
    At least she didn't have a beast man with her.  Sven
tensed as she approached him.  The last time something
like this had happened to him, he'd nearly been killed.
    "I have something of yours."  She told him, a strange
light in her purple eyes.  "...And I'd best give it back,
for it's been far more trouble to me, than good."
     Coming forward, the raven-haired witch brushed his
forehead with her hand, and the bit of his soul that
she'd stolen so long ago was returned.  Sven felt
stronger suddenly. Didn't quite know whether to trust her
not, given all that had passed between them.  A little
uneasily, he said,
    "Tack, I  guess.  Does this mean that I won't be
seeing you again?"
    Haggar snorted.
    "Impressive.  You almost managed to sound regretful!"
    Stepping away from him a bit, she added,
    "I'm taking a sabbatical, because this galaxy is
about to become an extremely unhealthy place for organic
life forms.  Lotor wasn't alone, you know.  Those
"friends" he was on about will be arriving shortly, and
then this prize you've won will crumble to ash before
your eyes."
    Sven nodded soberly.
    "I thank you for the warning, Haxa.  We will do our
best to prepare."  Then, touched by a sudden thought, he
asked.  "Is this what you really look like?"
    "No. I am not human."
    "May I see?"
     She bowed her head for a moment, and was surrounded
by the brilliant, almost shriveling light of a powerful
spell.  When it faded, she stood revealed in the splendor
of a long-lost form.  Beautiful, lovely, or even
breath-taking were entirely inadequate to describe her. 
Alien, yes; but with an almost goddess-like radiance.
     Sven looked away.  When he glanced back, she had
resumed her safer, more human form.
    "Men fought wars for you, didn't they?"
    She smiled a little.
    "Once, but no longer.  All that is past, now, and I
must go.  I expect that we will meet again, though.  In
the meantime, be wary of shape-shifting machines. 
Anything sentient and mechanical will be vulnerable to
domination by the coming plague.  Farewell."
    And then, with a swift spell, she returned him to his
own universe, where no time at all had passed.

_________________________________________________________
                                                

    Keith sat by Allura's bedside, holding her hand and
talking, saying anything at all that came to his head;
racing scores, the merits of easy-listening music versus
hard rock, movie reviews..., anything.  Not that she
heard a word of it.  The princess lay as pale and still
as a corpse, just as she had since he'd pulled her from
Blue's cockpit.  Hunk had examined the girl, and
pronounced her perfectly fit, physically.  The problem
lay within her mind, where the team medic couldn't reach. 
Perhaps Sven, when he recovered, could try healing her. 
It was a faint hope, at least.  
     Akira gave Lura's  hand another squeeze, pausing to
pour himself a drink of water before starting on a fresh
topic.
     "Did I ever tell you about my first aircar?  No?  It
was a Deusenberg with a V-20 engine, tweaked out, and
torqued so hard that she could go from 0 to 350 in a
quarter second, and haul a damn freighter.  I painted her
red, with yellow flames....,"
      He talked far into the night, still hoping.

_________________________________________________________
                                                

     "So.... whose side were you on, really?"  Lance
asked.
     Merla shrugged, smiling enigmatically.
    "My own, of course.  And yours... a little.....
maybe."
    The gunner grinned.  Placing a beer bottle with its
cap resting just so against the table top, he slammed it
with his fist, opening the sharp-tasting alien brew.
    "Here,"  he said, handing it to the beautiful pirate. 
"It's on the house."
    She accepted, took a sip, and then set the bottle
aside.  Only a desperate lush would have claimed that
Galra produced a good beer.  Lance liked the stuff,
though.  As he opened one for himself, Merla changed the
subject, saying,
     "My offer is still open, you know.  I can always use
a good token male."
     He reached out, and drew her toward him.  A few
kisses ensued, half playful, half passionate.
      "I dunno,"  he said at last,  "I might just take
you up on that sometime, Babe."
      She nuzzled his neck, purring softly,
      "I'll make it very, very, worth your while.....!"

_________________________________________________________

        
    In the days that followed,  Bandor declared martial
law on Galra, imposing a dusk-to-dawn curfew, and
disarming the entire populace.  Any soldiers who turned
themselves in voluntarily were allowed to resume their
civilian lives free of prejudice.  Those that hid out, or
attempted a counter-attack, were caught and executed. 
Bandor found himself in charge of the clean up because
there was no one of higher rank to relieve him of
command.
     Princess Allura hadn't regained consciousness yet,
despite the best efforts of Hunk.
     Meanwhile, Romelle was busy tending her rapidly
healing husband, leaving the dirty work of administration
and  reconstruction to her grumbling brother.
     Galra had been defeated, but the worlds of the
Imperium weren't happy about it.  They'd been dominated
for well over a thousand years, and freedom was just too
terrifying a prospect to be taken in all at once.  Thus,
when a sleek imperial yacht touched down outside of
Allied  field headquarters, and a prince stepped forth,
Bandor was willing to hear his claim.
     It was late afternoon, on a day of particularly foul
weather, and hundreds of  bureaucratic snafues.  Bandor,
who'd been working at his desk, stood up and went outside
when the yacht appeared, watching as its boarding ramp
deployed, and a tall, richly dressed young fellow strode
forth, followed by a girl. A small honor guard of Galran
regulars attended them, glaring suspiciously around at
all the aliens.  Keith, Hunk, Lance and Pidge left their
injured teamates and joined the young king, ready to
defend him, if necessary.
     The Galran prince was a half-breed, obviously,
though his mother seemed to have been Drule, rather than
human.  His bluish skin was only slightly scaled, and his
long, plaited hair was jet-black.  His eyes glowed
orange, and were set in a face thinner than Lotor's had
been, and less arrogant of countenance.  The girl behind
him was his twin in coloration, though shorter, and
sweeter of face.  Having read the imperial archives,
Bandor had some idea who he was facing.
      "Prince Oig'n, I presume?"  He inquired, when the
young Galran came within speaking distance.
      The other nodded.
      "I am.  And you, I take it, are King Bandor of
Pollux?"
      "That's me.  Don't suppose you're here to take this
mess off my hands, are you?"
       For Oig'n, as next in line to the throne, had a
legal claim to the planet, if not the galaxy.
       Rather surprisingly, Oig'n smiled.
       "Something like that, yes.  I have a proposal to
make; between us, no diplomats."
       "You hate 'em too, huh?  Okay, let's here it."
      "Very well, it's simply this:  I will ascend the
throne, as acting emperor, with a council chosen by you
to advise me.  They may have veto power over my
decisions, if you wish.  I will guarantee, in writing, to
gradually increase the freedom of the subject worlds,
sort of weaning them away from imperial control, and
toward self-rule.  That way, they'll stop pestering you
for direction.  In return, I ask that an alliance between
our two houses be formed, through a royal wedding. 
Helle, my sister, will become your bride."
      Startled, Bandor looked over at Keith, who spread
his hands helplessly..
     "I'm a soldier, Your Highness, not a diplomat.  This
one's up to you.  He seems alright to me."
      "...And a damn sight better than Lotor!"  Lance
added, in a sour mutter.  The mad prince's body had never
been found, though his clone's had.   Worse yet, neither
had Haggar's.
      Hunk put in his two creds.
      "If it means peace, maybe you oughta give it some
thought, Sir."
      "She IS rather attractive,"  Pidge added, in a low
whisper.
      Turning away from his favorite advisors, Bandor
regarded Helle, and she him.  As Pidge had said, she was
pretty, in a gangly, awkward, cheetah-ish sort of way. 
Then she winked at him, and the king lost his heart.
       "Well....,"  he said, "why don't we talk about it
over dinner?  No promises yet, but it sounds....
interesting."
      Romelle was going to have ample chance to get back
at him.

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