I suddenly got into a Voltron mood.  :)

This is an "origins" type fic, that attempts to fill in a little of the
backstory for the Voltron dub of the 80's.  You don't necessarily need to
know anything about Voltron to follow this story.  If you *are* familiar
with the cartoon and know of anything I need to change in the history, let
me know.

This is the first half of the story.  I plan to finish the second half very
soon.

As always, any and all comments gratefully accepted.

-Richard



The Way of Kings

By Richard Lawson


He sat on his throne, doing his best not to shift uncomfortably.  Of all the
things required of him, performing ceremonies was among his least favorite.

The trumpets were enthusiastically if not particularly skillfully blown by
the Royal Guard.  He winced internally, wondering if he should hire pages
with a modicum of musical ability.  He immediately dismissed it as
unnecessary and wasteful.  A little cacophony now and then never hurt
anyone.

The huge doors at the far end of the hall were swung wide open, and a
procession walked through.  First came the soldiers, suspicious and wary,
obviously wishing they could unholster their weapons.  Then a few retainers,
although not many.

And then the King.

He rose from his throne and descended the steps so that he could meet him as
an equal.  He offered his hand.  "Zarkon."

The swarthy, blue-skinned man smiled widely.  "Alfor."  He reached out and
they clasped each other's forearms.  Zarkon's grip was strong, his nails
biting into flesh.

Alfor, King of Arus, betrayed no sign.  He released his grip and extricated
his arm.  "We welcome you, Royal Brother."

"I am honored, Royal Brother."  There was little attempt on Zarkon's part to
hide a trace of mockery.  "A fine castle you have here."

"Built by my great-great-grandfather during the Diaspora.  I shall have to
give you a tour and educate you on its fine history."

"I look forward to it."  He looked beyond and above Alfor to the thrones on
the dais.  "Is that your daughter?"

Alfor turned and gestured.  "Princess, come and greet the King."

Princess Allura rose from the throne that had been her mother's.  She
descended the stairs in slow, even steps.  Alfor allowed himself a moment of
pride; she was by nature shy and uncertain, but she was at her best under
pressure and always performed bravely and to the best of her ability.
Still, she couldn't quite keep the fear off of her face.  Despite that,
Alfor thought, she looked very beautiful.  Like her mother.  She came up
beside Alfor, standing just a bit more closely to him than decorum allowed.

Zarkon chuckled.  "A charming girl.  How old is she, Alfor?  Four?"

Allura flushed slightly.  "I'm eight!" she blurted out.

Alfor reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.
He knows perfectly well how old you are, he said silently.  He's trying to
provoke you; don't let him.  "Shall we retire to my private chamber?  I have
some of Arus's finest wine chilling as we speak."

"A fine suggestion, although I prefer my wine hot and salty."  He grinned
widely, the turned and beckoned behind him.  "Lotor!"

Alfor shifted his eyes, noting for the first time the lanky boy looking
around with an extremely bored look on his face.  Prince Lotor raised his
eyebrow, then bowed slightly.  "Yes, Father?"

"Keep your Royal Cousin company while we men talk."  Zarkon gestured at
Allura.

Allura's eyes widened.  Lotor looked her up and down with a complete lack of
interest and a fair amount of disgust.

"An excellent idea," Alfor said, thinking quickly.  He turned and gestured.
"Coran."

His First Advisor and Prime Minister stepped forward, bowing.  "Your
Highness."

"Escort the Princess as she shows My Royal Nephew our gardens."

"As you command, Highness."  He turned to face Allura.  "At your
convenience, Princess."

She looked up at Alfor, her eyes filled with doubt and fear.  He smiled
reassuringly at her.  "Go on, Allura.  Show him your roses."

She nodded, brightening a little.  Last year she had taken over the
cultivation of some roses - pure-strain roses imported from Earth - and was
quite proud of the success she'd had with them.  She nodded her head at
Lotor.  "If you would come with me, Cousin."

Lotor sneered.  "Why would I want to look at some stupid flowers!  Where's
your fighting arena?"

No sooner had he said the words than he was sent sprawling by a vicious
backhand from Zarkon.  "Go with her, boy.  Look at the flowers and enjoy
them, and don't embarrass me again."

Lotor rose, rubbing his cheek sullenly.  "Yes, Majesty."  He turned quickly
away, with little enough apparent anger for Alfor to guess that this was not
an uncommon occurrence.

Allura was apparently shocked into speechlessness.  Without any further
words, she led him away, Coran trailing behind and keeping a careful watch.

Zarkon grunted.  "A fine boy but he must learn some discipline."  He
grinned.  "And some respect.  Can't have him assuming the throne too
quickly, eh, Alfor?"

"As you say."  Alfor had several things he wished he could articulate, but
contented himself with.  "Shall we adjourn?"

"By all means.  This room is too cold."  He gestured at his guards.  "Wait
here."

Coran made eye contact with the captain of his own guard.  The captain
nodded, letting him know that a watch would be maintained on Zarkon's
troops.  Coran led Zarkon to his personal conference room, fighting off a
terrible feeling of foreboding.

---

"This is a Souvenir de la Malmaison."  Allura leaned in and drew a deep
breath.  "It has a wonderful fragrance, and the flowers are magnificent,
don't you think?"

There was no answer.  She straightened and turned to see him staring up at
the castle.  "Prince Lotor?"

He didn't look at her.  "This castle is poorly defended.  I see no turrets,
no perimeter defenses of any kind.  What if someone were to attack you?"

She furrowed her brow, studying him.  Taller than she was, light blue skin,
straight snow-white hair falling around his pointed ears to his shoulders.
He looked like a fairy prince, but talked like a general.  "Who would try to
attack us?"

This earned her his gaze, albeit a scornful one.  "Your enemies, of course."

"But we have no enemies."  She looked around, as if to prove there were no
monsters lurking nearby.  "Arus is at peace with everyone."

He shrugged and looked away.  "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Really?"  Her father always took the time to explain things to her, and
while at times she had trouble following some of the complexities, she got
the basics very quickly.  "Why not?"

"Because you're a girl, stupid."  He wandered off down the path.

Allura felt the words like a blow.  What did being a girl have to do with
anything?  She ran after him.  "Why do you think that because I'm a girl
means I'm stupid?"

"Oh, girls can be smart," he conceded with a small smile.  "They can grow
pretty roses."  He stopped, turned, and picked a Pink Grub an Aachen from a
bush she'd worked very hard to cultivate.  "But they don't know anything
about important matters like war.  That's for us men."

The words drove her into a white-hot rage, one she'd never before
experienced.  She planted her feet and launched herself at him, her shoulder
connecting with his chest and knocking him onto his back.  He yelped and
dropped the rose.  She beat on his shoulder with her fist until he shoved
her violently off.  They quickly regained their feet facing each other.  He
held himself in a ready stance, his fingers twitching, his eyes burning with
anger.  She matched his stare, not caring about the fact that he was three
years older and not hampered by a dress.  Her hands were still clenched in
fists and she raised them, wondering what she could do with them.

Coran stepped between them.  "Princess Allura.  Prince Lotor.  Please stop
this at once.  It is not seemly.  Do not make me summon your fathers."

The thought of her father made her anger disappear in a rush, to be replaced
by guilt.  He'd be upset to see her behave this way.  She bowed her head.
"I'm sorry, Coran.  Please accept my apology for my behavior, Prince Lotor."

Lotor's voice was dark and guttural.  "I will remember this day, girl."  He
turned and stalked off.

Allura watched him leave, feeling her shame growing.  She'd disgraced
herself today.  Father would be *very* angry.  Worse, she'd made an enemy of
someone who might have been her friend.  That, more than anything else, she
deeply regretted.

---

Zarkon emptied the goblet in one gulp.  He lounged back in the chair he'd
been offered, the wide smile still on his face.  "Ah, now these are the
moments when I'm glad I rule my planet.  There are advantages to power, are
there not?"

Alfor sat slowly in his own chair, looking around his tastefully decorated
study, taking a sip of his wine.  "There are advantages, certainly, a moment
or two of comfort.  But far more important than this is making sure my
subjects also know such moments."

"Bah."  Zarkon waved his hand dismissively.  "Subjects are for doing what
they've been told to do.  For the betterment of the Kingdom, of course."

For the betterment of Zarkon, you mean.  Alfor swallowed the remark along
with some wine.  "And do you plan to increase the number of your subjects?"

"Ah, now we get down to it.  If there is one thing I admire about you,
Alfor, it's that you come straight to the point."  Alfor put his goblet on a
nearby table and leaned forward.  "You know as well as I that this so-called
Alliance is a failure in the making."

"That is an oversimplification.  The proposed Galaxy Alliance has some
problems, certainly, but they are problems that can be overcome."

"And the solutions will cause more problems, and the bureaucrats will feed
on each other and nothing will get accomplished."  Zarkon sneered.  "I saw
the same thing happening within the Drule Empire, which is why I declared
myself independent of their rule.  Since I've shed myself of their meddling,
I've been able to make Doom into an effective, self-sufficient system."

"Self-sufficient?"  Alfor raised an eyebrow.  "Does that mean that Doom
ships will no longer be raiding other planets for supplies and slaves?"

Zarkon's eyes glittered.  "It does, because those planets will be mine as
well."

"Indeed."  Alfor glanced down at his goblet, then set it on the table as
well.  "You have made little attempt to hide that buildup of your fleet.
You know that the Galaxy Alliance will be able to stop you."

"The Galaxy Alliance couldn't stop a bloodfly.  They must be made to realize
that our way - the way of kings - is the only manner in which the galaxy can
be effectively governed."

Alfor sighed.  "I would confess some sympathy for your position, Zarkon.
But you miss a key element: that we can only effectively rule with the
mandate of our subjects.  If you use force to implant your will on the
people, you lose that mandate."

"I see."  Zarkon settled back and spoke slowly.  "And what methods would you
use, Alfor?"

"Methods?"  Alfor shook his head.  "No methods.  I am not interested in
expanding my kingdom.  I will do what I can to help the peace process in the
rest of the galaxy.  And at no time would that mean trying to rule the
entire galaxy myself; that would only cause wars, not stop them."

Zarkon said nothing, just looked evenly at Alfor.  Alfor held his peace,
waiting.

Finally Zarkon spoke.  "And what of this robot of yours?  I suppose that is
a weapon of peace?"

Alfor contained his annoyance.  While the construction was not exactly a
secret project, neither had he made public any details.  Zarkon had found
out about it a little earlier than Alfor would have liked.  "Yes, Zarkon, it
is.  It will only be used in defense."

Zarkon raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "In defense of your planet only?"

Alfor lifted his head slightly.  "Arus will be a member of the Alliance, and
will gladly help out any other Alliance member in need."

A low rumbling sound game from Zarkon's throat.  "You would be meddling in
affairs that do not concern you, Alfor."

"I would be protecting the peace of the galaxy, Zarkon.  Anyone who has
similar interests need not be concerned about what uses I put my robot to."

To Alfor's surprise, Zarkon smiled.  "Allura is very pretty."

Alfor drew his eyebrows together, trying to puzzle that out.  "She takes
after her late mother."

"She and my son are almost the same age.  Let us wed them."

"What?"  Alfor leapt to his feet.  "What madness is this?"

"No madness, Royal Brother," Zarkon said smoothly.  "What better way to
insure the galaxy stay at peace than to wed my family to yours?  Along with
the marriage we can throw in a nonagression pact.  Let us show those
bumbling bureaucrats on Earth how a *true* alliance is made."

Alfor narrowed his eyes.  "And would this pact also guarantee that Doom
invade no other planets as well?"

Zarkon laughed.  "Does Arus presume to speak for the whole galaxy?  The
alliance would be between our two planets.  But Doom must be able to protect
our interests, with force if necessary."

"You mean with force by preference."  Alfor shook his head.  "I cannot allow
it, Zarkon.  If you insist on tainting your honor by undertaking these
invasions, I cannot allow my family's honor to be similarly tainted."

"So be it."  Zarkon rose to his feet as well and took a step towards Alfor,
his eyes glowing.  "But know this, Royal Brother.  If Arus interferes at all
with Doom, it shall go poorly for you.  For you, this castle, this planet,
and that pretty daughter of yours."

Alfor felt his control slip a little more.  "Do anything to my people or my
daughter and you will know my own wrath, Royal Brother."

Zarkon sneered.  "Such a *peaceful* man you are.  Before you think to
chastise me, look at your face in the mirror and see if I'm not there
looking back at you."  Zarkon spun away and stalked out of the room.

Alfor remained still, trying to control the raging of his emotions.  This
was supposed to have been an attempt at negotiation, a way to prevent war.
Instead, he had allowed Zarkon to control the discussion and make war a
virtual certainty.

He despaired at that, and hoped fervently that no one would pay the price of
his failure.

---

Allura followed Coran into her father's study.  She kept her eyes down,
shame bowing her head.

"Ah, there you are."  Her father sounded grim.  "We must talk."

Using all of her willpower, Allura lifted her head, an apology on her lips.
To her surprise, Father was not looking at her.

Coran looked impassive.  "How did your conversation with King Zarkon go?"

"Not well.  In fact, quite badly."  Father began to pace in front of the
fireplace.  "He made it clear that he intends to expand his kingdom, and
that Arus is not to interfere."

Coran nodded.  "This is, of course, not news.  It is an indication of how
worried he is about what Arus might do that he came all this way to threaten
you."

Father shook his head.  "It was more than that."  He looked at Allura.

Allura looked back at him, waiting for him to finish.

"Ah."  Coran seemed to understand something.  "I take it you refused?"

"Yes."  Father spoke fiercely.  "I will not allow such a thing to happen."
He went over and sat behind his desk.  "Coran, we must step up the
underground project."

Coran raised an eyebrow.  "You truly think it will be necessary?"

"Yes.  He made some specific threats.  And Zarkon can be counted upon to
carry through on them."  Father rubbed his eyebrows.

Allura could bear it no longer.  She rushed up to him and grabbed his arm.
"Father, I'm so sorry!"  She began to cry, pressing her face into his
sleeve.

He sounded surprised.  "What is it, Allura?"

"I- I was- I hit Prince Lotor."  She choked back a sob.  "I didn't want to,
but he made me so angry, and I disgraced you and the family and the planet
and-"

"Allura."  Her father sounded sympathetic, but also a bit reproachful.
"Tell me what happened."

She blurted it out, quickly and somewhat incoherently.  When she was done,
she looked up at her father's face, waiting for his condemnation.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.  "Allura, we've talked many
times before about diplomacy.  That if someone says something that makes you
angry, you must hide that anger and answer softly.  Prince Lotor will
succeed his father one day, and he will not remember you or Arus with
fondness.  If you had kept your temper, he might have eventually been more
favorably disposed to us."

Allura nodded, a bit calmer.  "Yes, Father.  I understand."

"There is also," he continued, "such a thing as knowing when to show
strength.  If you had let Lotor's insult pass unnoticed, he would not have
respected you.  He would have thought of you as ineffectual and powerless.
Now he knows that you will not allow him to do or say as he pleases, and
that if he pushes you too far, you will push back.  It is important that he
knows that, and you were able to teach him that quite effectively."

She found that her mouth was hanging open.  She snapped it shut, then
thought through his words.  "Does that mean... I did the right thing,
Father?"

"Here's another lesson for you, Allura.  When you act on behalf of our
planet, there is no right or wrong thing to do.  You just act, and do not
allow anyone to question what you did.  Certainly, ask for advice before you
make a decision.  But once you've made it, carry it out confidently and with
no remorse."  He cupped her chin with his hand.  "Remember, when I am gone,
*you* will be Arus.  And no one may question Arus' integrity.  Least of all
yourself."

"But..."  That sounded very strange, very different from what he had always
taught her about working with other people and forging a consensus and all
that.  "Father, I have to know.  What would you have done?  Would you have
hit him?"

Father chuckled.  "Likely not.  Violence should always be the last resort.
But I would have also let him know that I did not find his remarks
acceptable."

"But *what* would you have done?"

Father shrugged.  "I can't answer that, Allura.  I wasn't there.  You must
begin to judge your actions not by what I would have done, but by what you
think the best response should be.  That is the only effective way to rule."

Despite herself, she bit her lip.  "O-okay."  She stepped away from his
chair.  It was hard to do; she wanted desperately to ask him never to leave,
to always be King so she'd never have to make those kind of decisions.  But
she knew that was the wrong thing to say, so she contented herself with
fervently wishing she that she wouldn't have to rule for a long, long time.

---

Alfor ascended the staircase, his footsteps ringing hollowly against the
stone.  There were no furnishings, no guards; no one was allowed into this
tower.  Not even his daughter.

The door at the top was locked.  Alfor closed his eyes and cleared his mind.
He pressed his palm against the wood, feeling the wards he'd put in place,
letting them know of his presence.  With a click, the door opened.

He stepped inside and reset the wards.  He walked once around the room to
make sure all was in order.  It was good to be as certain as possible.

He stopped in front of the schematics.  So strange to see the shape on the
paper becoming reality out at the construction yard in orbit.  It wouldn't
be much longer before the physical assembly was complete.  Which still left
the most difficult task in front of him.

With a sigh, he sat on the floor.  He cleared his mind again, searching out
with his mind, feeling for a presence-

He found it easily.  With a satisfied sigh he opened his eyes.  "Greetings,
Haggar."

"Alfor."  She nodded, a faint smile on her lips.  She looked around the
room, her eyes locking on the schematics.  "How goes it?"

"Almost done.  It will be interesting to see our theories practiced on a
grander scale."

"Indeed."  She walked over, and Alfor couldn't help but admire the grace of
her lithe form.  She was beautiful.  Long black hair framed an elfin face.
Startling blue eyes gleamed at his.  "I, of course, do not have quite your
resources at my disposal.  All I can do is make toy soldiers that dance
about for a bit before falling apart."

"Really?"  He grew excited.  "Then you were able to bond your magic to the
metal?"

"Only for a short time."  She tiled the staff she was carrying slightly so
that the green gem at the top was at her eye level.  "There is still
something about my magic that objects to working with a machine.  And the
more complex the machine, the more difficult it is to force the bonding."

"Then we shouldn't force it.  We should find a way to coax the magic."  He
walked past her to his desk.  "I found an interesting book that describes-"

"Hilyard's Tome."  Haggar sounded contemptuous.  "Babble and nonsense."

He turned to look at her as she stood beside him.  "You've read it, then."

"I have read everything," she said with amusement.  "It's why I'm more
powerful than you are."

Alfor smiled through his disquiet.  "That has never been in dispute.  But
Hilyard thought that magic was as much about subtlety as it is about force.
I think his third precept is worth experimenting with."

"If you say so," she said with little enthusiasm.  She flipped a few pages,
and Alfor could see her eyes absorbing all of the words.  "I suppose the
effort won't be totally wasted."

"Indeed.  Let us begin."

The sat on the ground facing each other.  Alfor put a small but functional
toy airplane on the small space between them.  He reached over and clasped
her hands, beginning to focus his mind.

Haggar wasn't joining the effort.  He tried for a while before tsking in
annoyance.  "What are you waiting for?"

She smiled and rubbed the back of one of his hand with her thumb.  "It has
been a long while since your wife died, hasn't it."

Alfor growled and snatched his hands back.  "Enough, Haggar.  You know my
answer to that."

"Still bound in ancient concepts of honor?"  She shook her head.  "That's
going to limit what you can do with magic, you know."

"It does not," he said testily.  "My magic is bound to my honor."

Haggar cocked her head.  "Truly?  How does that work."

Alfor sighed, sorry he'd let that much slip.  "That I cannot tell you."

She laughed once.  "Secrets?  How can we work together if we hold secrets?"

"You know better than that.  Or are you willing to tell me how your staff
holds its magic?"

Her hands shot out and grabbed her staff, moving it slightly away from
Alfor.  He raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

Her face, which had become wary, relaxed slightly.  "Okay, point made.  But
do not ever try to take away my magic."

"I never would dream of it.  But Haggar..."  He paused, looking deep into
her eyes.  "Have you ever considered the price you are paying?"

She sniffed.  "I pay no price for that which is mine."

"No?"  He reached out and rubbed her cheek with his thumb, focusing his mind
at the same time.  Her skin turned from lightly tanned to a very soft green
where his thumb passed.

She shrieked and leapt to her feet, holding her hand over her cheek.

Alfor remained seated, speaking softly.  "It's changing you, Haggar.  Into
what, I don't know.  Please, as your colleague and as your friend, I urge
you to carefully consider what will become of you if you allow this power to
consume you."

She stared at him for a long time, something like incredulity on her face.
After several long moments, her expression turned cold.  She lowered her
hand, to reveal once-again flawless skin.  "Do not think to lecture me,
Alfor.  I am in complete control.  Do not ever doubt that."

He steepled his hands in an attempt to maintain his equilibrium.  "As you
say.  Only know, Haggar, that if you need help, I am here."

Something flickered in her eyes, something that might almost have been a
kind of yearning.  But her face settled into a cool expression as she sat
down again.  "The only help I need from you is this project we're working
on.  This melding of science and magic will make both of much more powerful.
*That* is the only thing we should be concentrating on."

He stopped the rebuke on his lips.  "You are right.  Let's focus on this
problem."

Haggar nodded and closed her eyes.

Alfor felt her gather her magic.  This time he was the one that hesitated.
Haggar's quip about power troubled him deeply.  He wondered how much of her
soul she would sell to become more powerful.  He wondered how much of her
soul had already been sold.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he called his own magic and focused
on the toy between them.

---

Zarkon, King of Doom, brooded.

His kingdom:  One planet.  A cast-off of the Drule Empire, too remote for
them to rule, not important enough for them to fight over, given that they
had their own set of problems.  While that allowed him to claim it as his
own, at the same time he felt slightly offended that no one had tried to
challenge him.  What good was a crown if one didn't have to fight to get it?

And there were good reasons for expansion.  Doom had abundant mineral
sources, but its harsh climate made agriculture a virtual impossibility.
The geological instability made industry a problem as well - any large
facility might easily be destroyed be the next earthquake, of which there
were a fair number of each day around the planet.  There was a good reason
for the planet's moniker.

His fleet:  a large number of ships, orbiting the planet, filled with his
warriors, bristling with the latest weaponry.  Enough to challenge even
Earth's fleet.  But Earth would wait; the immediate goal was the surrounding
systems.  They would fall easily to his fleet, and then his troops would
hold against any attempt to wrestle the systems away from his grasp.

Then there would be a period of consolidation, where he concentrated his
efforts on making his new planets efficient and self-sufficient.  He would
do that quickly, which would mean some small pain for his subjects.  It also
meant a bit of an administrative nightmare.

His son:  still young, still inexperienced, still stupid.  He needed his son
to grow up quickly, to help him rule.  His son would have many opportunities
to learn, many chances to learn how hard to push and what methods achieved
the best results.  His son would have worlds as his playthings, and he would
have many interesting games he could play with them.

His enemy:  Alfor of Arus.  Most other planets were struggling, still trying
to build a viable civilization in the fledgling Alliance.  Earth was
overpopulated and decadent, desperately trying to drain other systems of
their resources to feed its own voracious appetite.  Only Arus was whole and
stable.  And Alfor felt a kind of noblesse oblige to all the planets of the
galaxy, and would come rush to aid in their defense.

And he was building... something.  Something that was large and powerful.
Something that used... magic.  He clenched his jaw; magic was the one thing
he was the most uncertain about.  He'd heard rumors of what some of the
great sorcerers could accomplish, and Alfor was known to dabble.  What he
might be able to accomplish was unknown.  And while Zarkon would never admit
to fear, he would acknowledge that he found Alfor's robot to be disquieting.

But that was just one robot, and his fleet numbered in the hundreds now.
They would be enough.

Zarkon smiled, slowly, widely.  It was time to begin.

---

"Highness!"

Alfor looked up.  Coran had burst into the study - or at least, walked
slightly more quickly into the study, which was functionally equivalent for
him.  Alfor felt his stomach tighten.  He had a feeling about what this
might be.  "Yes?"

"The Doom Fleet is moving.  It is bound for Mora.  A general distress call
has been sent."

Alfor rose to his feet.  "Any response?"

"The call was just sent."  Coran thinned his lips.  "However, I find it
unlikely that anyone will respond in time.  There is still much debate
within the members of the proposed Alliance about how best to-"

Alfor's curse was enough to silence Coran.  He walked to the door, Coran
falling in one step behind him.  "Have my shuttle prepared immediately.  I
expect to be able to lift off in fifteen minutes."

"It shall be done, Highness."  Coran peeled off.

Alfor took the stairs two at a time.  He almost triggered the wards in his
rush to enter the room.  He calmed himself, opened the door carefully, and
was immediately divebombed by a toy airplane.  He growled and brushed it
away.  The plane waggled its wings and flew up towards the ceiling where it
flew in lazy circles.

He walked over to a table and picked up a large book.  Only half the pages
were full; he planned on adding more of his writings later.  What he'd
written for now would have to be enough.  He flipped through a couple of
pages, more to reassure himself that they were still there, then ran from
the room.

It seemed forever to get out to the launching pad and into his shuttle, and
even longer to lift off into orbit.  Alfor looked over the pilot's shoulder
impatiently.

Finally, the robot came into view.  And as always, Alfor had to stare in
wonderment.

It was all he had hoped for.  Large and powerful-looking, in the shape of
man with lion heads for hands and feet.  The sun glinted off the dull gray
metal of the robot.  Construction ships still surrounded it, but most of
them were inactive, their work done.

Painted.  He needed to have it painted, he thought idly.  It was a bit plain
right now.

His shuttle docked at one of the active ships.  He was through the airlock
almost before the hookup had been completed.

One of his engineers greeted him.  "Your Majesty.  Do you intend to take the
ship out of orbit?"

Alfor nodded curtly.  He strode towards another airlock.

"Majesty, all major systems are operational, but only a few of the weapons
are online at present."  The man held out a small datapad.  "We still have
many systems that have not been fully tested."

Alfor activated the airlock, looking at the engineer out of the corner of
his eye.  "Are you advising me against this course of action?"

The engineer blinked.  "No, Majesty.  I just wanted you to be aware of the
robot's current limitations."  He paused, then spoke in a slightly louder
tone of voice.  "Hit them hard.  For Arus."

Alfor couldn't help smiling.  "I plan to."  He entered the airlock.

He entered the primary control chamber for the robot.  He sat and looked
around at the displays.  They confirmed what the engineer had told him.  He
flicked a few switches and the robot detached itself from the last of its
moorings and floated free in space.

He set the book on the console in front of him, and turned to a specific
page.

Alfor sat back, placed his hands on the flight control levers, and closed
his eyes.  This was a thing of science, of a most unwieldy configuration
according to everyone who had seen the schematics.  But it was necessary, it
needed to be in his shape, and reflective of the heritage of Arus.  Only
then would the magic work.

Slowly he opened his eyes and read the words on the page, remembering the
discoveries he and Haggar had made together.  Spirit and compound material
did not like to meld, they must be persuaded, coaxed, seduced.  He felt for
the robot with his mind.

His heartbeat was growing louder, his body thrummed with it.  His breathing
was slowing and becoming labored.  The robot surrounded him, he could feel
the circuits, the power that flowed through them, through him, his heartbeat
filled the machines, his lungs breathed electricity and he began to move-

He was slow and sluggish.  The planet wanted to drag him down and he broke
free from its grip.  He moved away; where did he want to go?  *There*, he
wanted to go *there*.  He struggled to align himself, then willed himself to
*move*, move with speed and power, and he went.

He struggled against himself.  There were parts of himself that didn't want
to cooperate, and he had to concentrate fiercely to bring them to heel -
only to find that another part of himself had slipped out of control.

It wasn't right, it wasn't working, what was wrong?  This should be
exhilarating, wonderful, beautiful.  It wasn't, it was a nightmare, parts of
himself starting up and shutting down, his control on the jagged edge, pure
will the only thing that kept him going.

And then, much sooner than he had expected, we was *there*.  And he was not
alone.  Dozens of ships swept into sight.  Hundreds.  They were not so much
fighting as slaughtering another fleet that was valiantly trying to fight
them off.  And behind them, a beautiful sea-green gem of a planet, and from
it he could feel the desperation, the terror, the need to be protected.

One ship saw him, an enemy ship.  It turned, and he could feel its intent to
fire at him.  He moved out of the way as missiles flew past, unable to lock
on to him.  He *stared* at the ship and light leapt from his eyes.  The ship
buckled and exploded under his gaze.

Then he had lots of attention.

They began to turn towards him, all of them, and he gasped at their combined
hatred.  He flew towards them, pulled back his hand, and smashed the nearest
one.  His other hand he pointed at another ship, and fire engulfed it.  His
feet he opened up, and missiles shot out, striking with deadly accuracy.

And for a moment, he shut down.

It was too much, it was all too much, he couldn't do it all.  But he thought
of Allura, of what would happen if he left her bereft, and he grabbed
control again.  Lasers were raking his chest; he ducked underneath them,
then flew through the ship that was firing them.  The explosion rolled off
his skin, and he turned to face another enemy.

The battle raged on and on, and he was the center of a huge firestorm,
weapons that wanted to destroy him but as often as not destroyed others that
were trying to fight them.  He left devastation in his wake as ship after
ship exploded under his scrutiny.  And all throughout, the nightmare
continued.

At one point he turned around to fight his next enemy only to find none
nearby.  A few, perhaps a score, had formed up and were heading outsystem at
high speed.

He needed to get after them, to show them the folly of their invasion, made
sure Zarkon completely understood that-

And then he was back in the chamber.  His hands were shaking horribly as he
lifted them off the controls.  He looked around, to see many alarms blazing.
The robot had been damaged far worse than he'd realized.

A voice, high-pitched with excitement and relief, arose from the
communications array.  "Whoever's flying that robot, thank you!  You saved
us!  The government of Mora, er, extends formal greetings to- who are you?"

He blinked at the question, his mind gone completely blank.  Who was he?  He
was... was... the robot... Allura!  Allura was his daughter, and he was
Alfor of Arus... but the ship... the ship was...

He never knew, afterwards, where the name came from.  Only that in his
confusion and exhaustion, one word came spiraling into the foreground of his
mind.

"Voltron.  This is Voltron."  He paused, and tried to find a way to have it
make a bigger impression.  "Defender of the universe."

"Voltron, again, thank you.  From all of Mora.  You've done a great service
today."

Alfor hugged himself in an effort to keep from trembling.

~*~

To be concluded.