OPERATION CHEESECAKE - PART 5

Galen holds the rubber snake up for everyone to see before he places it on the floor and presses the on switch. It promptly starts wriggling across the threshold and into the kitchen area. Everyone backs off to duck around the corner.

Not three minutes later the entire kitchen staff rushes out of the room amid shrieks and squeals of terror, racing for the far end of the hall. Dunkirk gives a thumbs-up and we rush into the room. Galen recovers his snake while the rest of us fan out and work our way toward the freezers.

No one is expecting the four figures that rush in through the opposite doorway dressed in full-body rain slickers. They’re the bright green, waterproof coveralls the janitors use to hose down the castle ramparts during the yearly cleaning. It’s a totally sealed outfit with a thin Plexiglas visor in the front, so the workers don’t come in contact with the detergents they use. We could spray them down from now until next week and not a drop of the liquid would ever touch them. Oh boy...

Lance points a finger in our direction as the rest raise large Super Soakers of their own.

“There they are!” He bellows. “Get ‘em!”

Hunk, Pidge and Sven immediately break ranks and take off after each of their counterparts. My team, unfortunately, is wearing plain fabric clothing which will soak up perfumed water rather easily, and I know that’s exactly the ammo they’re toting. I myself don’t have to worry about it since I’m a girl and it’s only a minor thing to smell like my grandmother for a couple of days. It’s Dunny and company that will be in for it should they get hit.

Lance simply stands in the middle of the aisle separating two counters, his free hand resting on his hip. “So, my dear...planning a raid on the dessert freezer, were we? I hate to disappoint you, but it seems that your plans will not be coming to fruition.”

“Says you, Lionboy. The fight ain’t over yet.” I nod toward his soaker. “Go for it, baby.”

He grins at me then, points it at a wall nearby and pulls the trigger. The liquid that splatters the wall is a garish, bright orange color. It reminds me of the ink package Pidge had that he claimed was one of the type they put in bags of money that get carried in armored cars. If he hits me with that gunk, I’ll look like a walking highway construction sign for weeks on end. I take a few quick steps backward and he advances, levelling the soaker as he comes.

“Come on, Tasia, hold still and take your lumps like a man.”

I smirk at him. “Baby, I’m more man than you’ll ever be, and more woman than you’ll ever get.”

His response is to open fire, but I’m already ducking around the counter and throwing myself to the floor to crawl quickly on hands and knees. I can hear him run and then pause, as if trying to decide which end of the counter to go around. To my left I hear a sudden clash and clatter of metal, and I glance over to see Alan and Sven fighting with shish-kebob handles, using them like foils. Hunk and Dunkirk are nowhere in sight, and somehow I get the feeling that they’re being more of a threat to the food right now than they are to each other.

There is a thump on the top of the counter, and I look up just in time to see Lance standing over me with the soaker aimed right at my head. I snatch a potato from a burlap sack nearby and take a split second to aim before flinging it with all my might, then rolling out of harm’s way. The high-pitched yelp I hear, followed by a cuss, tells me I’m right on target. Lance staggers off to his right and lands solidly in a large, stainless steel pan full of salad. He gives a heartfelt groan before he cusses again and struggles to get out of it. I snatch open the cabinet door to search for some useful weapons. Nothing but condiments here. Wait - ketchup and mustard squirt bottles! All righty!

Lance climbs out of the pan, sending it to the floor with a clatter and spilling salad in all directions. He lands on the floor on my side of the counter, but he’s still looking a little stunned over being the recipient of a potato to the personals. I aim the bottles of ketchup and mustard at him and squeeze hard. They splatter all over the neck of his coveralls and on up to the faceplate. I drop the bottles then and snatch up two handfuls of flour from a mixing bowl nearby to fling at him. It makes a mess all over his visor, and he has to stop to wipe at it with his gloved hands. I grab up a tray of egg-grenades and back up to create distance.

“Tasia, help!” I hear Galen yell. Pidge has him all but backed into a corner, advancing in slow, measured steps. I turn and lob four eggs at the back of Pidge’s head, three of which hit their mark. Galen takes advantage of the distraction to slip past Pidge and run. Pidge goes to give chase but he slips on the fourth egg and falls into a stack of trays loaded with bread and rolls. It tips and all but buries him in an avalanche of dinner rolls, breadsticks and free-falling loaves.

“Hold it right there, darlin’,” I hear from behind me. “Drop the eggs and turn around nice and slow, and no funny business.”

I set the tray down and do as I’m told, keeping my hands where Lance can see them. He looks none too pleased as he walks toward me.

“What in the world is going on here?” Demands an angry, familiar-sounding voice from the doorway. Everyone snaps their heads around to look. Nanny is standing in the middle of the doorway, hands on her hips, her mouth twisted in a ferocious scowl. The cooks are peeking around the door on either side.

“Look at this mess! Look at it! How dare you create such a ruckus in here!” She marches toward us all, rolling up her sleeves as she goes. “Hooligans! Ruffians! Unscrupulous scalawags! Not one of you is leaving this kitchen until you clean up every last bit of damage you’ve done.” She grabs up a large rolling pin and waves it in our general direction. “Get going, the lot of you! Right now! And don’t think for one moment that Coran won’t be hearing about this!”

The jumpsuits and soakers promptly get abandoned in favor of mops and brooms. Nanny plays supervisor and stands by with arms folded, tapping her foot impatiently while we clean up every last bit of the mess. Afterwards we get an earful of lectures on carelessness, inappropriate behavior and wasting food before we’re all shooed out into the hallway and ordered to never return.

“Okay, I guess we were getting a little out of hand there,” I say to the guys. “Sorry.”

“But it was blueberry,” Galen says wistfully. “That’s a good one.”

“We shouldn’t have had the battle in the kitchen,” Pidge says. “Otherwise, it actually could have been fun.”

“Agreed,” replies Alan. Sven smirks at him.

“Well, this can definitely be deemed a draw,” Hunk says.

“Not necessarily,” Lance replies with a frown as he gives me a glance. “Some of us were wounded more personally than others.”

“Sorry about the potato, hon, but all’s fair in love and war. Besides, you still have your cheesecake. What have you got to complain about, really?”

He smirks a little then. “I guess you’re right. I’ll think about you while I’m enjoying the last of the crumbs.”

“You know,” Galen says. “Keith and Dexter are both going to be really annoyed at us. I think the lecture from Nanny is only the beginning.”

Hunk frowns. “Oh yeah, Keith is going to find something really, really fun for us to do.”

“Like scrubbing out the castle restrooms with toothbrushes...” Lance says with a frown.

“If we’re lucky, that is,” Hunk adds.

I give them both a shrug. “Look you guys, I’m the one who started it. I’ll accept responsibility for whatever happens next.”

“Well, we did help you out, Tasia,” Alan says. “We operated as a team.”

“That just means we’ll get it from Keith an’ Dexter both,” Dunkirk says miserably.

“Well, we may as well get it over with, then.”

“Right.” Lance looks around at the rest of his team. “Okay, Let’s go get Dexter out of the storage vault and hand him over so we can enjoy the rest of our time off.”

Dunkirk blinks. “Th’ storage vault? Why, that’s where we put Keith.”

Lance looks at Dunkirk. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nae, I’m not.”

“All right, then it’s to the storage vault.” Lance leads the way through the halls and down to the lower levels. He pauses at the doorway when he snaps on the light to the room.

“The puppet booth is knocked over,” he says casually as he enters with the rest of us behind him. Hunk pauses to regard a giant stuffed pig lying face down by a stack of trunks.

“I hid Dexter over there...” He walks over to take a closer look. “He’s not here now.”

Dunkirk nods toward the puppet booth. “That’s where I hid Keith.”

“No kidding?” Hunk says. “I was gonna hide Dexter back there, but I thought it was too obvious.” He looks around at the rest of us. “They musta got loose already.”

“Guys!” Galen says in a worried voice. He looks around at us as he points to a spot on the floor. We all hurry over to look. There’s a line of dark red drops ending in a smudge that looks like a partial footprint. I chew on my lip a little as I look around at Lance.

“Blood?” I ask him.

“Could be...” He follows the trail backwards to a point near the overturned puppet booth. “Maybe Keith hurt himself somehow. Man, is he ever going to be mad.”

“Wonder why we haven’t been paged over the PA system by now,” Pidge says. “You’d think one of them would have demanded for us to report to castle central or something.”

“Aye, an’ that goes double for Nanny’s threat,” Dunkirk says. “We should have been in it t’ th’ears by now. I donna like this one wee bit.”

“Maybe they went to talk to the Princess first?” Alan offers.

“They could have, but they still would have called us one way or another,” Lance replies. “Let’s go to castle central first.”

“I haven’t seen Keith or Dexter at all today,” Coran tells us after Lance’s inquiry. “But I did receive Nanny’s report. “I would like to believe the ones entrusted with insuring the safety of the free worlds of the Alliance could behave a little more responsibly, but it seems that such is not the case.” He frowns. “I cannot even begin to express my dismay over that altercation in the kitchen.”

“Umm, yeah, Coran, okay, okay,” Lance replies impatiently. “And you’re sure you haven’t seen Keith or Dexter anywhere?”

“No, I haven’t. But I’m certain that when they do show up they’re going to be deeply disappointed as well, not to mention the Princess herself.” He pauses to study us. “Weren’t you supposed to be going on a picnic this afternoon?”

“Yeah, yeah we were,” Lance says, then a worried expression crosses his face. “We’re going to go apologize to her right now, in fact. C’mon, everyone.” He retreats at a brisk pace. Something in his attitude makes us all hurry to follow him.

“Lance, what’s the matter?” I ask as I come up even with him.

“Pidge is right, Tasia,” he replies. “Somebody - Keith or Dexter - should have been giving us the third degree over the battle in the kitchen by now. It’s been way, way too quiet.” He reaches the vehicle bay and heads straight for the van they packed up for the picnic.

“Allura’s not here,” he says. “She was supposed to be waiting for us in the van while we countered the ambush.” He looks around at Hunk. “Hunk, go see if she’s in the sitting room. We have been gone for awhile.”

“Gotcha.” Hunk starts for the castle proper. Pidge looks through the back window of the van.

“Hey Lance, we had two baskets, right?”

“Yeah...” Lance rounds the van as Pidge opens the rear door. Pidge blinks at something near the remaining basket.

“Hey, there’s a note here!” He picks it up and hands it to Lance. Lance unfolds the paper and reads it aloud.

“’Dear Voltron Force, thank you for making our task even simpler than we anticipated. We now have both your Princess and your cheesecake. We will be handing both over to Lotor so he can enjoy the one, and have the other for dessert. To celebrate our easy victory, we will be executing both your Captains and taking their heads back to Doom as souvenirs. Again, many thanks, Zar and Gell, loyal Doom operatives.’” He scowls and crumples the paper.

“What the hell kind of a sick joke is this?” He demands. Then Hunk comes rushing back into the vehicle bay.

“Hey, I found some weird stuff in the sitting room! Lots of empty makeup bottles, two sunglass cases...”

“What?” I blink at him. “Makeup bottles?”

“Yeah...little square-looking bottles, and a compact of some sort.”

I look at Lance. “I think we better go check this out.”

He gives a quick nod, and we head for the sitting room. There is indeed an odd array of makeup containers lying all over the coffee table. I pick up a bottle of foundation and look it over.

“Someone was laying this stuff on thick,” I say aloud. “We’re talking application with a spatula, if these bottles are any indication.”

“What’s this stuff?” Pidge holds up a bottle for me to see.

“That’s...peroxide.”

“And this one...?” He reads the label. “Lovely Lady hair dye, raven black.”

“Heavy makeup...” Lance says. “To hide blue skin, maybe?”

“And the sunglasses, to hide the eyes...” Pidge says. “Hair color to change the hair...”

Everyone exchanges panicked looks.

“You’d think da guards at da vehicle bay vould be a little suspicious,” Sven says finally.

“You’re right, Sven,” Lance replies. “And we gotta go talk to them, like right now.”

We all make a mad dash back to the vehicle bay.

To Operation Cheesecake: Part 4

To Operation Cheesecake: Part 6