Well, okay.

Here's a very rough draft of the conclusion of my Voltron story.  I'm almost
certainly going to try and rewrite a couple of scenes, but any and all
comments on how it stands are gratefully accepted.

The first part of this is available on request.

-Richard



The Way of Kings

Part 2 of 2

By Richard Lawson


Zarkon paced thoughtfully up and down the length of his throne room.  Recent
events had proved... unsettling.

That robot - Voltron, it had been apparently dubbed.  It had defeated his
fleet with ease.  Somehow Alfor had found a way to make it almost
invulnerable.

That was not good.

How to fight it, then?  First he'd need to rebuild his fleet.  He'd need
more slaves and some materials from nearby planets - and Voltron would
likely be sent to protect those planets.

But the robot couldn't be everywhere at once.

Zarkon slowly nodded.  Yes, that had to be the way.  Rather than send an
overwhelming force, send several small strike forces to various planets. Let
Voltron wear itself out trying to defend them all.  Zarkon would get his
materials and at the same time test the limits of the robot.  It would be
costly in terms of ships and men, but those could be replaced.

He looked down at the slightly spherical object he gripped in one hand.  Of
course, he'd need a new general to help him implement his new plans.  And it
was time to get Lotor involved as well.

Zarkon tossed the object next to the larger figure it used to be attached
to, then strode purposefully from the room.

---

Alfor disembarked from the shuttle, more tired than he had ever been in his
life.  He'd stayed in orbit around Mora for two days until they had
reorganized their defenses.  The trip back to Arus had been just as
difficult as the outbound journey had been.  The engineers had greeted him
with enthusiasm only slightly muted by the amount of repair work needed on a
robot that they hadn't even finished building.  Alfor had spent a few hours
directing their work and suggesting modifications based on the robot's
inaugural flight.

All this meant that it was very late at night, local time, when he entered
the castle.

Coran, dutiful as always, greeted him on his return.  "Highness."

Alfor merely nodded, finding no energy to speak with.

Coran walked beside him.  "Marshall Mahmood from Earth Garrison has
contacted us.  He wishes to discuss with you the use of the robot to-"

Alfor waved his hand wearily.  "Tomorrow."

"As you wish."  Coran bowed and withdrew, leaving him alone.

Alfor found the stairs and walked slowly up the tower steps.  His last task
for the night would be to put his book away.  Then he would sleep for a week
and only then deal with the ramifications of his actions.

He paused at the top of the stairs and stared at the door.  A soft green
glow was coming from underneath it.  Only then did he realize that he'd
forgotten to reset the wards when he'd left to take the shuttle into orbit.

Rage gripped him.  He strode towards the door and banged it open.  "Haggar!"

She jumped and turned to face him.  Her staff was glowing brightly, enough
for her to read the journal she'd opened at his desk.  Haggar looked at him
warily, with little guilt.  Indeed, he saw her eyes flick towards the book
he carried under his arm.

The anger continued undiminished.  "Out!"

"Alfor."  Her voice was the picture of placation.  "I only wanted to
congratulate you on our success.  I also wanted to ask you-"

"Haggar!"  He strode towards her, and as he did she brought her staff to
bear so that the green tip was facing him.  He stopped three feet away,
glaring.  "Don't try anything, not here at the seat of my power.  Get out
and do not return."

Her eyes flickered with something, something that might almost have been
pain.  "Alfor, you need me.  I can see it in your eyes; controlling the
robot drained something from you.  Clearly this is not working as well as we
had hoped.  If we can work together, I'm certain we can-"

"Haggar."  He clenched his fist in an effort to keep from trembling with
rage.  "Our relationship has been built on trust, tenuous as that has been.
Now I find you uninvited in my workshop, poring through my private papers.
This is an intrusion I cannot forgive.  Your lust for power has warped you
into something less than human, something I can no longer trust."

He leaned forward, towering over her.  "Get.  Out."

Her lips were pressed together in a thin line.  "Don't do this, Alfor.  Not
now, not like this.  Calm down and talk to me in the morning when you've
rested."

With a shout he threw his book at her.  She knocked it away with her staff,
and in that instant he grabbed it.  Her power shot up his arm and for a
moment he feared it would overwhelm him.  But he fought it back and pulled
on the staff, trying to wrest it from her.

She snarled and spat at him.  He merely smiled and twisted the staff
further.

Then she exploded.

He was thrown backwards, hitting a table and upending it.  He scrambled to
his feet and looked around, but Haggar was gone.

Alfor spent a few minutes calming himself down.  He'd never seen a teleport
spell that worked like that.  Somewhere in his anger and shock he found a
bit of concern, a hope that she was unharmed by whatever spell she'd just
cast.

He left everything where it lay and recast the wards that protected this
room, fortifying them as he never had before.  And then he left and found
his bedroom and crawled into his bed, letting blackness quickly claim him so
he wouldn't have to think about what he'd just done.

---

Allura watched as her father entered his bedroom and shut the door firmly
behind him, not even looking towards her room to see if she was awake.

Which may have been just as well, she thought.  He'd looked... scary.  Angry
and guilty and most of all tired.  His face was usually so serene, even at
the worst of times.  This new view of him terrified her.

She closed her own door and leaned back against it.  Father had been gone
for two days, and Coran had warned her that he might be coming and going a
lot.  What squeezed her heart was the thought that some time he might leave
and not ever come back.  Because of that robot.

A terrible foreboding filled her.  There was something fundamentally *wrong*
with the robot.  And that flaw was going to destroy Arus.

Allura bit her lips as the tears flowed, and tried to think of happy things.

---

   As Voltron's legend grew, peace settled across the galaxy.

   On planet Earth, a Galaxy Alliance was formed.  Together with
   the good planets of the solar systems, they maintained peace
   throughout the universe.

   Until a new, horrible menace threatened the galaxy.

---

She hobbled across the plain, struggling to walk upright.

What a cursed planet this was.  Hot, wind-scoured, desolate.  Her last hope.
She walked towards the palace, no one giving her a second glance.  Those who
lived on Doom learned to mind their own business on penalty of death.

Only the guards thought to stop her.  With two quick flashes of her staff
they fell, and she didn't stay long enough to see if they lived.  The
castle's magical defense were woefully inadequate, she thought.

She had to admit, though, that she was impressed when she opened the door to
the throne room and found twenty weapons pointed at her.  She laughed, found
that it sounded a lot like a cackle, and quickly stopped.  "Do you think
your puny weapons can stop me?"

The guards shuffled uncertainly.  She saw fear in a lot of their faces.

A figure stepped through the guards and stood before her, hands on his hips.
He, too, was impressive.  Not tall but solidly built, and exuding such
command and confidence that she could truly believe he might not be
frightened of her.  "What is it that you wish, old witch?"

She bristled, because she was not old and hated the word "witch".  She
stilled herself and spoke calmly.  "King Zarkon, I take it?"

He nodded curtly.  "I am Zarkon, although you may take nothing.  I respect
someone who can walk through my automated defenses without triggering them.
But only enough so that I won't kill you out of hand.  State your business
or leave, witch."

The words fueled her anger but she forced herself to stay outwardly calm.
"But sire, why would you want me to leave?  I can serve you."

Zarkon looked her up and down.  "What can an old witch like you do for me?
Turn my guards into frogs?  Poison the apples of my enemies?"

She smiled slightly.  "Help you defeat Voltron."

To his credit he remained expressionless, although the fact that he stood
rock still was an indication of how her words affected him.  After perhaps a
minutes he gestured imperiously.  "Guards.  Leave us."

She stood still while the guards shuffled out.  Only then did she realize
there was someone else in the room - a tall, handsome young man who looked
at her with a somewhat appraising and definitely arrogant look on his face.
She studied him a moment before remembering that Zarkon had a son.
"Greetings, Prince Lotor."

Lotor snorted.  "I don't know if I should kill you for what you did to those
guards or thank you for finding that they were weak."

"You should find out if I may be of use before making a decision, my
Prince."  She looked back at Zarkon.  "Well, Your Majesty?  What shall it
be?"

Zarkon spoke almost reluctantly.  "Tell me more.  How can my ships defeat
Voltron?"

"I never said your ships could."  She reached into her robes and pulled out
a six-inch-high figure of a demonic soldier.  She set it on the ground
facing Lotor, then tapped it with her staff.  The figure came to life,
looked up at Lotor, roared in a tiny voice, then charged.

Lotor was a blur.  Before she could blink he'd drawn his sword and slashed
at the figure.  But it was too close to the ground and his attack passed
well over its head.  The figure reached Lotor, reared back, and breathed
fire onto Lotor's leg.  Lotor cursed, danced to the side, then kicked it
savagely.  The figure flew through the air and hit a wall, smashing into a
dozen pieces.

Zarkon watched impassively.  "A toy for children.  How does this defeat
Voltron?"

She leaned on her staff, trying not to show how much the effort had drained
her.  "Imagine a robot beast a hundred times as large as that toy, and a
thousand times more powerful.  Imagine what that beast could do to Voltron."

Zarkon stood still for several minutes.  She didn't know how to interpret
this behavior, but she took the fact that Lotor, despite looking quite
angry, stood still and said nothing to mean that she should let Zarkon think
as long as he wanted to.

Finally he seemed to focus on her again.  "What would you need?"

Excitement grew in her, and she tried not to let it show in her voice. "Many
things.  Many materials.  A place to work in.  A few test subjects. And no
distractions."

Zarkon nodded.  "How soon will you give me one of those ro-beasts?"

"It will require some patience, my King.  Voltron itself was not built in a
day.  Give me a year.  Perhaps two."

"Two years!"  Lotor took two steps towards her, his sword still drawn.  "And
how can you be certain that this 'ro-beast' will defeat Voltron?"

She desperately wanted to show Lotor exactly what she was capable of.  But
she might need him as an ally; her plans did not end with helping Zarkon
conquer the galaxy.  "I have other magic I can bring to bear.  I know
Voltron's maker; I can defeat him easily."

Zarkon held out a hand towards Lotor.  "Patience, son.  Two years is not so
long to wait.  We can use the intervening time to once again begin raiding
nearby planets.  We'll need to shake the Galaxy Alliance out of their
complacency, and draw Alfor from his planet.  When we have them confused and
uncertain again, we can then bring Voltron to heel.  And punish Alfor for
his interference."

Lotor still looked contentious, but he returned his sword to its scabbard.

Zarkon put his arm around her shoulders and turned her towards the throne.
"Let us talk specifics, witch."

"Haggar."  She felt exultant, triumphant; at last she would have the kind of
support she needed to bring her magic to its highest level.  "My name is
Haggar."

---

Alfor set the robot down and released the controls with a sigh of relief.
Voltron was not easy to land, and he preferred to keep it in orbit as much
as possible.  But today he needed to make an impression, and this was the
best way to do it.

He exited the robot and stood on its shoulder, looking around.  Many people
had talked about Earth with much reverence.  This was the birthplace of
humanity, after all.  The sun was not too bright or too dim, the air not too
thin or too thick, the gravity *just* right; the human body felt most at
home here.  Alfor never felt that; Earth felt crowded and oppressive to him.
Arus was and always would be where he belonged.

A small shuttlecraft came towards him and hovered nearby.  A hatch opened
and hands reached out to help him climb inside.  He nodded at the people
inside, thankful that he hadn't been forced to climb down the robot.  He'd
really have to work on some sort of system to allow for easier egress on a
planet surface.

The shuttle landed a small distance away.  Alfor exited and was greeted by
an aide.  Alfor waved aside the formalities and allowed the aide to lead him
away.

He entered Marshall Mahmood's office.  The Marshall had a panoramic view of
the spaceport, and was standing before it.  "An impressive robot you have
there, your Majesty," he said by way of greeting.

Alfor walked up beside him to look at Voltron.  He was quite satisfied with
its appearance.  The body of the robot was a deep black that gleamed, while
the extremities were each of a different color.  The face was a lot more
distinct now, and looked appropriately impassive and stern.  And on its
chest was the coat of arms of the Arus royalty.

Increasingly, Alfor had come to depend on Voltron's appearance to bolster
his spirits.  The universe was turning ugly again.

"Thank you, Marshall.  I understand how difficult that admission is for
you."

Mahmood lifted a corner of his mouth.  "Not as difficult as you might think.
The robot *looks* impressive, and it certainly gets the job done in battle.
I've only ever objected to the way you unilaterally bring it into
conflicts."

"It is my duty as-"

"Begging your pardon, King Alfor, but we've been through this before."  He
turned to face him.

Alfor regarded him coolly, not accustomed to being interrupted.  "We have
indeed."

"You know that, as a member of the Alliance, Arus should allow its military
to be coordinated by Galaxy Garrison."

"I know that Galaxy Garrison does not understand how Voltron works, or how
to control it."

Mahmood nodded.  "You mean that I do not.  And that is true."  He looked
back at Voltron.  "I've never seen the sense of making a machine that looks
like a man.  And this... bonding of magic... it seems too unreliable.  I
myself would much rather depend on plain machinery, built by computers and
operated by the hands of men.  This linking of spirits that you prattle on
about... it's too uncontrollable.  Too prone to failure at exactly the wrong
time.  I'd be a much happier man if magic were to die out of the universe
altogether."

"That will not happen."  Alfor spoke with conviction.  "If the human race
concentrates too much on machines and neglects the spirit, it will whither
and die."

"If you say so," Mahmood said laconically.  "I rather wish he didn't have to
deal with it at all."

Alfor smiled.  "So you'd prefer not to have to deal with Voltron?"

"No."  Mahmood turned away from the window and sat at his desk, talking all
the while.  "I can't help but acknowledge how useful a tool like Voltron is.
That's why we're trying to build one ourselves."

Alfor stared at the top of Mahmood's head.  "What?"

"We're trying to build one ourselves.  We've got a group of scientists
working on it now.  The project lead seems to think he knows what you're
talking about."

The words put Alfor at ease.  No 'scientist' could ever truly understand
what it took to create Voltron.  He walked around the desk and sat opposite
Mahmood.  "I wish you every success, then.  Arus offers whatever support it
can, although I must warn you that there are certain secrets I cannot
divulge."

"We appreciate Arus' offer."  Mahmood looked a little amused.  "Now,
however, let us get down to the business that brings you here today,
Majesty."

Alfor nodded.  "Do you understand my request?"

"I believe so."  Mahmood tapped at his desk, bringing up a display.  "You
need pilots?"

"Yes."

"To control Voltron?"

"Yes."

Mahmood leaned back.  "Forgive my skepticism, King Alfor.  I know I should
be ecstatic that you're allowing us to have a say in how the robot is used.
But I have to know why you're doing it after all this time."

Alfor raised an eyebrow.  "I thought I made that plain.  I've decided that
Voltron is too unwieldy to manage from one control center.  I've installed
four additional control centers, one in each of the extremities.  The pilots
will assist me in the operation of the robot during times of battle.  I
believe Voltron can be much more efficient when operated in this manner."

Mahmood nodded.  "Yes, that you did make plain.  But it doesn't seem
sufficient.  It's certainly a rational explanation.  Now, however, I'd like
to hear the irrational reason."

Alfor blinked at Mahmood in surprise.  The Marshall gazed steadily back at
him, his entire mien that of waiting.

Reluctantly, Alfor spoke.  "The running of the robot is draining too much
from me.  I vastly underestimated how much of my spirit would be needed.  If
I can have other young people assisting me, my spirit will be drained at a
much lower rate."

Mahmood grunted.  "At the cost of draining the 'spirit' of the pilots I send
you?"

A flash of guilt passed across Alfor's face.  "That is why I was asking for
five pilots, so that they may be rotated and allowed to rest their spirit.
And I will closely monitor them to make sure that they do not become
dangerously drained."

"As you are now?"

Alfor clenched his jaw.  "I am fine, Marshall.  The Royal Family of Arus has
vast strength of spirit, far more than may be found in most others.  We will
survive."

Mahmood bowed his head.  "I apologize, Majesty, if I sounded disrespectful.
I merely want to make sure my pilots are not being used like batteries, to
be discarded when drained."

Alfor relaxed slightly.  "I assure you on the honor of Arus, no such thing
will happen."

"Good."  Mahmood rose from his seat.  "You wanted to see the prospective
candidates.  Let's go."

---

Allura rested her forearms on the parapet and looked up at the stars.  Her
father was out among them, and she yearned to reach out and touch him.  To
touch the stars, to see them in their splendor, alongside her father.

A rustling behind her.  "Princess?"

She smiled into the night.  "Good evening, Coran."

"I take it you do not with to attend the ball tonight."

Her amusement grew.  When not attending court functions she had taken to
wearing a pink jumpsuit, much to her nanny's dismay.  But dresses got too
much in the way when she was taking care of her roses or helping her father
with the mundane chores of ruling a planet.  She was wearing the jumpsuit
now, which certainly was not the appropriate attire for a ball.  "No, I do
not.  I'm going to spend my time alone."  Just me and the universe.

"Princess, Duke Capek's son is there.  He's been asking about you."

Duke Capek's son is a spoiled, cruel boy that would rather fondle his female
servants than do anything useful with his life.  She kept herself from
saying the words out loud, instead nodding serenely.  "Let him ask."

"Princess, when your father is gone you must assume some of his duties.
Among which is the hosting of this ball."

Allura pursed her lips.  Of course Coran was right.  "Very well.  Give me
half an hour to change."

"As you say, Princess."  He bowed and withdrew.

Allura wandered towards her room, already dreading the hours to come.
Fawning boys trying to be clever, trying to woo her over now that she was of
marriageable age.  Not a one of them interested her.

She sighed.  Where were the real men?  Bold, decisive, daring.  Oh, and
handsome too.  Like her father, except a lot younger.  Without the mustache.
And the obsession with that damned robot.

Allura shook her head and began to undress as she entered her room.  Enough
for now.  There would be plenty of time later to think about her father. She
had a duty to perform, and she would do her best as always to carry it out.

---

Alfor peered through the glass of the one-way mirror.  The room beyond was
an exercise room, filled with young men and women working out in various
ways.  All had been on a list of candidates that met his preliminary
requirements.  All were good pilots with impressive tactical skills and the
ability to learn quickly.

Alfor required more than that.

Mahmood shifted slightly beside him.  "We went through a lot of trouble to
set this up.  Why couldn't we have just used a monitor, Your Majesty?"

"I need to *see* them, Marshall."  He moved his gaze among the candidates.
"See them with my eyes."

"What does it matter that-"  Mahmood cut himself off.  "This is one of those
things that I'm not going to understand, isn't it?"

Alfor smiled.  "I'm afraid it is."

Already he had dismissed a lot of the prospects.  He focused his spirit,
trying to find in the pilots their own strength.

He focused on one young man, larger than most.  He had a presence that
seemed to extend beyond the space his impressive physique took up.  A
presence that was rooted in the ground in front of him.  Alfor pointed.
"That one."

Mahmood consulted a datapad he held.  "Harold Alexander."

Another young man, with a tranquil nature that hid deep reserves of
strength.  "And that one."

Mahmood paged the display.  "Sven Belou."

A quicksilver spirit, temperamental but intense.  "Him."

"Lancelot Armstrong."

Alfor frowned.  "Are those children?"

Mahmood grunted.  "The Ruttan brothers.  I'm not any happier about than you
are.  But they both blow the ceiling off the aptitude tests.  I keep trying
to find reasons to kick them out of the program, and they keep finding ways
to stay in it."

Alfor could understand why.  Both of the boys were so full of life they
glowed like supernovas.  He just hoped they didn't burn out too quickly.
"The older one, then."

Mahmood shook his head but merely said "Pidge Ruttan" while making a
notation.

Alfor kept swiveling his gave around.  He felt that there was something
vital he was overlooking.

Indeed, his eyes skipped over the young man three times before settling on
him.  He was doing pull-ups alone, concentrating fiercely on the task.  His
spirit seemed almost blank, as if it wasn't there.  As Alfor focused on him,
he saw why.  His spirit was almost perfectly balanced, a still and silent
thing that didn't necessarily manifest itself in overt ways.  But in that
silence was strength, a tremendous power of will that could fill the whole
room.

Alfor waited a moment to be sure his voice was firm.  "That young man over
there.  Who is he?"

Mahmood tsked in irritation.  "I was hoping you wouldn't notice him.  Keith
Dewar.  One of our brightest prospects.  We have high hopes for him."

Alfor looked at Mahmood.  "I need him, Marshall."

"It was our agreement to let you have the pick of this lot.  And he'll come
back to us a seasoned veteran.  I have no real objection, King Alfor."
Mahmood tapped at the datapad, then squared his shoulders.  "Anyone else,
Majesty?"

"Nope, that is enough."  Alfor turned away from the window.  "I want to
thank you, Marshall, for your cooperation."

Mahmood inclined his head.  "My pleasure.  We get something out of this,
too."

"How soon until they finish their training?"

"We'll yank them out of this group and put them in a special program.
They'll learn to work together at the same time they finish training in
certain skills.  We'll have them ready for you in about three months."

Three months.  Alfor kept himself from sagging in relief.  Three months and
the burden would be lessened.

Three months and everything would be different.

---

Haggar closed the lid on the coffin and turned to Zarkon.  "It is ready."

Zarkon's frown was just short of a scowl.  "This is not the large robeast
you promised me."

Haggar kept the irritation off her face.  "When the coffin is delivered, my
magic will increase its size.  Trust me, Zarkon, it will be all you could
ever hope for."

Zarkon looked at her for a few seconds, then gestured behind him.  "Lotor!"

Prince Lotor walked up, alert and ready.  "Yes, Father?"

"Let us begin.  Lead the second fleet towards Mandoba.  Begin conquering the
planets in that sector.  That should draw the attention of the Alliance
fleets.  Keep their attention as long as possible."

Lotor held his hand to his breast in salute.  "Yes, Father.  I shall bring
you the spoils of many worlds."

"Yes, I'm sure you will.  Begone and carry out my will."

"Yes, Father."  Lotor rushed off, and Haggar could see the excitement in his
step.  It was the assignment Lotor had been craving for a long time.  Zarkon
had done a magnificent job in grooming the boy for his role.

She looked back to the King, and they held each other's gaze for a while.
After a moment, Zarkon spoke slowly.  "You're sure you can take out
Voltron."

"Yes, Majesty."  She spoke with confidence.  "We need only give the
command."

"The command is given."  He leaned forward slightly.  "You will come with me
as I lead the first fleet as far as the first rally point.  You will proceed
from there to Arus, where you will destroy or disable Voltron.  You will
then return to my command ship as we move in on Arus.  Do you understand,
witch?"

Anger bubbled up and was quickly suppressed.  Not now.  "I understand, my
King."

"Good."  He straightened and smiled, a voracious smile if she'd ever seen
one.  "Let us begin."

---

Alfor snapped his eyes open as a hand was placed on his shoulder.  He looked
up into the eyes of his smiling daughter.  "Father, shouldn't you go up to
bed?"

He looked around, taking a second to remember that he was in his study.  He
looked down at the book he was reading, trying to remember why he thought it
was so important to study on the Arus family history.  The book he set aside
as he gestured to another chair facing the fire burning merrily in the
fireplace.  "In a moment.  Sit with me, Allura."

She did, and he spent a moment admiring her.  She had grown into a beautiful
young woman, with all her mother's grace.  There was a certain quality to
her face, something that reminded him of why he'd chosen to marry her mother
all those years ago.  A beauty of heart and mind and spirit as well as body.

Alfor cast about for a subject to talk with her about.  "How was the ball?"

Allura shrugged.  "It passed without major incident?"

He raised an eyebrow.  "And what about minor incidents?"

She looked away, lifting her chin.  "I may have spilled some wine on Duke
Capek's son.  I offered my profuse apologies."

"An apology full of sincerity, I imagine."

She slowly lowered her chin.  "I... did regret my lack of control.  There
were better ways to deal with his... shall we say, forward behavior."

Alfor chuckled.  "Better ways, but none quite so satisfying?"

Allura looked at him in surprise.  Then she laughed with him.

He quickly sobered, wondering when the last time he'd laughed with her.
Always so much work to be done, and so little time to spend with her.  Soon
he hoped to rectify that.  "Allura, I-"

He was interrupted by the door quickly opening.  Coran strode through,
bowing.  "Majesty.  I have just received a distress call from Mandoba.
Zarkon's fleet is moving towards them."

Alfor surged to his feet.  "Very well.  Have my shuttle prepared, and let
orbital control know that-"

"No!"

He blinked and looked down at the hands clutching his forearm, then into the
eyes of his daughter.  "What is the meaning of this, Allura?"

"Don't go!"  She sounded frantic.  "Father, you're too tired, I can see it.
That robot takes too much from you.  You don't have any strength left.  Let
the Alliance handle it.  You need to rest!"

"Allura."  He put his hand on top of hers.  "We cannot ignore a plea for
help.  As a member of the Royal Family of Arus you must understand this.  We
have an obligation, not just to our subjects but to any planet that is
threatened."

"But how can we carry out our obligations if we die!"  Tears were coming
from her face.  "You're killing yourself, Father, I can *see* it."

Almost despite himself, his interest grew.  This was the first glimmer he'd
seen in her of any kind of ability to manipulate magic.  If, untrained, she
could see the state of his spirit, she had tremendous potential.

Now, however, was not the time to explore this.  "Allura, I'll be fine.  And
soon I'll have some support, so it won't be as hard on me.  Please, Allura,
I must go.  Surely you understand why."

She looked at him, trembling.  After a few long seconds she slowly lifted
her hands away.  "I... I do understand.  But Father..."  She suddenly hugged
him fiercely.  "Please come back."

He hugged her back.  "I will, Allura.  I promise."

They held each other for a few more seconds.  Then he separated himself from
her, smiled one more time into her tear-streaked face, then turned and left.

Three more months.  That was all he needed.

---

Haggar floated alone in space.

This spell alone was difficult enough, despite all she had learned with
Zarkon's patronage.  What she was about to do would be many times more
difficult.

She saw the robot approaching.  Something stirred deep inside her.  She
frowned at it.  What was it?  Longing?  Regret?  Either way it was a
weakness, and she beat it down savagely.

She would never forget what he'd done to her.  Now it was time for revenge.

---

Getting the robot moving was more difficult than it had been before.  Alfor
was weary right down to the core of his soul.  But he'd get this to work. He
had a duty.  But on his honor he was tired of the ugliness he had to deal
with.

And then, as if in response to his thought, beauty hit him.

He stopped his flight and looked off to his right.  Something was floating
nearby.  And... it was beautiful.  Beyond beautiful.  The form was a goddess
of peace and light and everything Alfor yearned for.

He turned towards it, basking in the light.  He felt the beauty ease into
his soul and give him strength.  He smiled in relief.  Magic was powerful,
but he'd never known it like *this*.  An angel had heard his unspoken prayer
and given him what he needed when he needed it the most.  Oh what a
marvelous universe that provided him with wonders like this.

Alfor drifted closer to the goddess, absorbing more of her strength,
drinking in her beauty.  More beautiful than his wife.  More beautiful than
his daughter.  Glorious.  Wonderful.  He peered more closely at her face,
trying to make out her features.

Slowly, a face did come into view.  Dark green skin, prematurely wrinkled.
Glowing yellow eyes.  A cruel smile, and hideous laughter.

He frowned at the image.  "Haggar?"

And then the beauty vanished.

The strength that had been filling him was suddenly draining out at a
prodigious rate.  And it was taking all of his strength, and that of the
robot's.

>From somewhere he found the wherewithal to fight back.  He called on the
heritage of his planet and his magic, and brought all his weapons to bear,
and battle was truly joined.

The magic burned around him, around the robot, the whole universe was magic
and it was burning.  It was inside him, *she* was inside him and burning
him, but he rose above himself and out of himself, protecting the robot, the
robot was important, it must be saved.

She was pulling at the robot, trying to tear it into pieces, and he tried to
hold it together and he...

...*looked* at it.  For the first time, he *looked* at it.  And it was a
monstrosity, screaming with magic bound against its will, fighting to be
free, hating those that controlled it, waiting to be unbound.  Horror filled
his soul as he finally saw what he had done.  A monster, it was a monster,
*he* was a monster and...

...and he knew what he had to do.  Magic *would* work, but at a price.

He gave way before Haggar, and she moved quickly, and the robot exploded.
She withdrew in that moment, and he rushed in to take control.

And change.

And reform.

The robot split not into a thousand pieces but into five.  He worked with
the magic, and it resisted, but he bargained with it.  Give this to me
willingly, and I will give you something willingly in return.

The magic accepted, and bound itself, and took from him, and he began to
fade.

He watched as the robot - the lions - fell to Arus.  He fell with them, saw
as magic and life infused them, passed from him to them, and he faded more
away.  They aligned themselves to the planet, to Arus, and drew strength
from it as he always had.

As his life passed, he saw the lions go dormant.  He felt sadness, that they
would sleep and not know the joy he'd known living.  But they needed more,
spirit and purpose, and he couldn't give it to them.

Not any more.

Oh God, Allura, I'm so sorry...

...but the lions are so beautiful...

---

Haggar rematerialized in the hold of the ship.  And collapsed.

Never had she fought such a battle.  The victory should have been easy.  She
was so much more powerful than he was, and she'd sneaked past his defenses.
That should have been enough to ensure a quick end to Voltron - and Alfor.

Alfor, however, had reserves she'd never expected.  And even though she'd
burned his body from the inside out, still he'd fought against her.  She'd
been on the verge of panicking when he'd finally succumbed.  With her own
strength fading, she'd destroyed the robot.

But something strange had happened, right at the moment she'd won.  The
robot had broken apart, but it had seemed too... orderly.

Alfor was dead.  Voltron was destroyed.  She'd seen it.  Witnessed it with
her own eyes.  There could be no doubt.  She kept repeating that over and
over to herself.

A rustle, and she looked up.  Zarkon stood over her, his scaly skin
reflecting the light oddly.  He looked at her without expression.  "Is it
done?"

She had no power to speak.  She nodded.

Zarkon lifted a corner of his mouth, then spoke over his shoulder.  "The
assault is to commence."

---

Allura paced around the parapets fitfully.  The night was very dark, the
castle the only thing providing any illumination to the surrounding
countryside, and she'd ordered that kept to a bare minimum.  She needed the
comfort of the blackness; she felt safer encased in its arms.

She paused and looked out over Arus.  She was afraid, she was desperately
afraid, and she didn't know why.

She was wound up so tightly that she didn't sense him coming up until he put
his hand on her shoulder.  She shrieked, whirled around, and recognized him.
"Coran!"

He looked abashed.  "Forgive me, Princess, I did not mean to startle you."

"I know."  She put her hand over her breastbone, calming herself.  "I'm just
a little tense."

"I understand."  Coran stood beside her and looked up at the stars.  "He
drives himself so hard.  I cannot question his desire to protect the
innocents of the universe."

She studied his face as best she could in the darkness.  "You cannot
question his desire, but you might question his judgment?"

He did not reply for a long time.  When he did, his voice was soft and
distant.  "Your father has surprised me in the past with what he has
accomplished.  And he is the King.  That is all that matters."

That did not exactly sound like a ringing endorsement.  She started to
speak, wanting to pursue this matter further, but only a squeal came out.

Coran looked at her in surprise.

Her jaw worked itself up and down, her breath refusing to come through the
constriction in her throat.  She gaped at him, her entire life crashing down
around her.

"Princess!"  He reached out to grab her shoulders.  "What's wrong?"

The cry was ripped from her throat.  "He's dead!"  Allura fell to her knees,
the strength leaving her body.  "He's dead, he's dead, oh God, he's dead!"

Coran fell to his knees beside her, clutching her.  He spoke in a voice that
said he already knew and feared the answer.  "Who... how do you... are you
certain?"

"Father!"  She clutched Coran and screamed.  "Father!"  And then the
capacity for speech left her and she sobbed hysterically, out of control.

They held each other as the grief consumed her.

Through the blackness she *felt* the light.  Somehow, through cocoon of
misery, something got enough of her attention to make her look up.

There were stars.  Many stars.  More stars than there had been a few minutes
ago.  And some of them were moving.

She tried to ratchet her sobbing down a notch.  "Th-the caves."

Coran spoke into her ear.  "What?"

She pushed him away and stood up.  "W-we have to get th-the people to the
c-caves."

Coran began to ask a question, then stopped.  His eyes widened.  "Doom is
here."

"H-hurry!"  She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet.  "We h-have to
get to the c-control room."

They ran into the castle as the night was violated by fiery light.

---

"Marshall!"

Mahmood looked up at the earnest face of his adjutant.  "Yes?"

"We've received a distress call from Arus.  They are under attack."

Oh damn.  "What of Voltron?"

"The distress call was garbled and cut off mid-transmission, but the
impression we got was that Alfor is dead and the robot's whereabouts
unknown."

Mahmood looked down at his display, which showed some Doom ships entrenched
around Mandoba and more moving towards Calia.  With a sudden sickening
certainty he knew this invasion, successful as it had been so far, was
merely a diversion.  Arus would be a strategic and symbolic gain of immense
proportions.

It could not be allowed to happen.

"Issue orders.  Cadets Alexander, Belou, Armstrong, Ruttan, and Dewar are to
be commissioned immediately.  Dewar is to be given the rank of Commander."

"Yes, sir."  The adjutant was scribbling furiously.  "And their orders?"

Marshall smiled grimly.  "Quite simple.

"Bring back Voltron."

~*~