THE NEW ARRIVALS - DAY ONE

“Here you are, Coran.” I set the digital clipboard on the desk in front of him. “This is a complete list of the people to be added to the castle staff as of tomorrow morning.”

“Ah.” He begins to scroll through the files, skimming each one briefly before going on to the next. “You know, Keith, I really don’t need to see these. I have full confidence in your choices for the openings available. I was convinced when I saw how thorough you were with your selection for the back-up pilots.” He hands the clipboard back. “I’ll leave it all in your capable hands.”

“I’m flattered by your show of faith, but policy dictates that I submit all changes to you for personal review.” I tuck the clipboard under my arm and try to conceal my disappointment. I put an awful lot of work into that presentation for him to just pass it over like it was nothing.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he replies. “I’m fully aware of that…and while we’re on the subject of change, how soon will you be informing Allura that she will no longer be serving as one of the Lion pilots? After your meeting this morning, perhaps?” He folds his hands together, rests them on his desk and quietly awaits my answer.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea just yet, Coran. Even with the backups on duty, when the princess steps down it’ll leave an opening on my team, and I’d have to rotate the Blue pilots until I found a suitable replacement.”

He tugs at the corner of his mustache and purses his lips. “But you do realize that removing Allura from the Voltron Force was the main reason I agreed to these ideas of yours in the first place, don’t you?”

Now I see why he brushed the presentation aside so quickly. He isn’t so much concerned with the changes themselves as he is with the end result they’ll bring about.

“Actually, I’d been hoping your support was being given without any ulterior motives in mind.”

He frowns ever so slightly. “You may accuse me of that if you like, but I’m only acting in the interest of Allura’s safety. You know how much I worry about her when she’s involved in combat. I have from the day she first flew one of those wretched metal beasts. There’s no denying the threat it poses to her personal safety.” His brow furrows in consternation. “Even your practice sessions can be dangerous. The way Blue Lion crashed yesterday morning, after being hit with Yellow Lion’s missiles...it still makes me shudder just to think of it. Hunk had no right to subject her to that kind of treatment.”

“He’s supposed to fight with her like that. All of them are. And she’s supposed to give as good as she gets. That’s what Lion Free-For-All is about. The Princess has been flying long enough to know how it all works.”

“It’s not the flying I’m concerned with so much as the impacts the Lions take during those mock battles of yours. Allura is a very delicate young lady. She simply isn’t built to take that sort of beating. I was quite upset by the report I received from Doctor Gorma after the princess’s examination yesterday. She insisted that Allura spend the rest of the day in bed to recover.”

“I know. I was the first one to review Allura’s medical report, as a matter of fact. There were no serious injuries. Doc Leslie insisted on the bed rest just to make sure the princess had time to recover from her shake-up. And Hunk apologized to her several times. He still feels bad about it.”

“As he should. Allura is the last of the royal Arusian line, and she has yet to produce an heir. If something were to happen to her, there could be a great deal of upheaval during the process of placing her aunt on the throne.”

I nod without reply. I’m getting a little too steamed to give him a polite answer. I worry about her too, Coran, but to me she’s more than just an icon to be replaced should you lose her. The irritation in my expression must have gotten through to him, because he leans back in his chair as if to create more distance between us.

“Please try to understand. I know you’re just as concerned with her safety as I am, but surely you realize where I’m coming from. I have the continuing welfare of this planet to think about. I must preserve the future of Arus.”

“Isn’t that funny. I was under the impression that was my job, too.”

Coran smirks slightly as he leans toward me again. “Yes, it is indeed your job, Keith. And that’s all the more reason why you should be just as eager to see her moved into a position of safety as I am.”

Damn it. He’s got me there. The underlying reasons are different, but when it comes right down to it I want Allura out of that Lion just as badly as he does. At the same time, however, I know why she won’t be happy with the idea. Blue Lion represents a big part of Allura’s commitment to her people. She’s not going to give up the position easily, and now Coran is putting the pressure on me to make her do just that.

What a mess. I have to talk the woman that Voltron belongs to into not wanting to be a part of it anymore. Maybe I should just take up rocket science while I’m at it. In the meantime, I think I ought to point out to her Royal Advisor exactly what I’ll be up against.

“Coran, we both know how important this is to the princess. I think the best approach will be to ease her off the team gently. When it comes right down to it, neither one of us has the authority to stop her if she wants to stay put and fly Blue Lion - or any other Lion, for that matter. If all I do is insist that she should accept a replacement for her own good, she’ll argue against it. If, however, she steps down and allows a fairly-appointed pilot to take her place in due time, it’s a pretty good bet she won’t rebel against the decision later on.”

He considers my reply for a moment or two before he speaks. “Your argument does have merit. It would be best for the matter to be completely settled in her mind once and for all.” He gives a heavy sigh of disappointment. “Very well, Keith. Take your time, do as you see fit. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer, I suppose.”

“If it’ll make you feel any better, I can start the final orientation a little early. After this morning’s meeting there’ll still be enough time left over for Dexter and his team to log in their initial flight hours. With that out of the way, I can have them begin with regular duty first thing tomorrow morning.”

Coran nods. “I like that idea. Then Allura could spend the whole day getting accustomed to not being on the team. I could point out how much free time it’ll give her to visit the orphanage. That might be a suitable distraction...” He trails off and becomes lost in thought. I clear my throat softly and he snaps out of his musing to regard me once more. “Yes?”

“If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll be on my way to the meeting.”

“Of course, of course.” He gives me a nod and I leave the office. I pause to glance at the digital clipboard in my hands once I’m out in the hall. I was so proud of this presentation, too. Oh, well. Guess I should do one more spelling check before I load the files into the employee database. I start reviewing as I walk down the hall.

“Good morning, Keith,” comes a voice from the intersection ahead. I raise my head to see Allura standing there. She smiles at me.

“Are you on your way to the meeting?”

“Yes, I am. Will you be there, or are you busy right now?”

She reaches up to tuck a strand of loose hair back into place. “I have some royal matters to take care of, so I probably will miss it, I’m afraid.” She comes up to my left and takes a peek at the digital clipboard in in my hands. “Today’s notes?”

“Sort of. This was a presentation that I set up for Coran to review.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a listing of the new personnel that will be starting work in the castle as of tomorrow.”

“May I see it?”

“Sure.” I hand it over. She calls up the first file and studies it quietly for a moment.

“Dexter Derek Stiles,” she reads aloud, “Captain, Team Two, Voltron Force.” She taps a finger on Dexter’s image and smiles. “Romelle was so happy to hear that he won the contest. Happy, and very proud. I think it will go a long way to show that the bond of friendship between Arus and Pollux is genuine.” Her smile fades a little. “But the idea of a Polluxian being in charge of Voltron has stirred up some resentment among some of the traditionalists on my Council. The older generation hasn’t quite forgotten the enmity between my cousin’s planet and mine. There’s still a very long way to go.”

She sighs, starts to walk along the hall. I move to keep pace alongside her.

“Princess, I prefer to think that a good pilot is a good pilot, no matter what planet he or she may come from. So what’s the deal here? Do they think Dexter will just up and claim Voltron for his homeworld and fly off with it?”

“Well, not in so many words, but the idea was hinted at.”

“If it’s going to create that much trouble, I can pick someone else to lead Team Two.”

Allura shakes her head firmly. “No. I agree with your choices wholeheartedly. That’s why I wanted you to handle everything where this was concerned.” She scrolls through the rest of the Team Two roster as we walk, then the reserve pilots on Team Three. When the file that comes up next is Caroline’s, she looks at me with a question in her eyes.

“Did I miss something?” I lean toward her to take a look over her shoulder.

“I think so. You have Team Two, the reserve pilots and the girls who are joining the castle staff, but you don’t have a replacement for me on this list. Is there a reason why?”

“Umm, that’s because I haven’t found anyone to fit my criteria yet. The person in question has to fly Blue Lion with a measure of proficiency, as well as get along with the rest of the team. So far, all four of the people I interviewed were great pilots, but none of them were able to put up with Lance for very long.”

Allura smiles. “Bless his stubborn little heart. I guess that means you won’t be rid of me anytime soon.” She studies my face. “But Coran has been talking with you about it, hasn’t he? I can tell.”

Time to change the subject. I don’t want to get into this debate, not right now.

“Actually, he read me my rights because he was upset about the way Hunk pounded on you at practice yesterday morning. Speaking of which, how are you feeling?”

Allura wrinkles her nose, trying to look indignant but failing miserably. It’s so cute when she does that.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Nanny. I was just a little shaken up, and there’s nothing to worry about. Lotor’s roughed me up much worse than that, if you recall.”

“Yes,” I feel my throat tighten as I reply. “I do recall.”

Her next words spill out hastily as she makes her own attempt at changing the subject. “Keith, you’ve always insisted that I be treated like everyone else on the team, and you know Hunk would have given that same beating to anyone. He just caught me off guard. Any other time I would have seen those missiles coming, but I was trying to dodge Pidge, counter Lance’s laser barrage and evade Hunk’s attack all at once. I’ve dealt with two Lions coming after me at the same time, but not three. I’m sure it’s just a matter of my having a little more practice.”

I give a quiet sigh. “I know, I know. It’s just that when you climbed out of Blue Lion, you stumbled and looked so...dazed. I thought maybe you had a concussion or something.”

She smiles at me. “I don’t get concussions. I’m as hard-headed as you are.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. You have a hard head. Harder than Lance’s, even.”

“Oh no, no one has a head harder than Lance’s. Well, maybe Hunk does. But that’s about it.”

Allura laughs, then her expression becomes serious. “Keith, I was talking to Coran earlier, and he pointed out to me that it’s been over a year since I paid a visit to the orphanage. I feel just awful about it. He’s making arrangements on the spot for me to go tomorrow afternoon, but if I do, that means I won’t be available to put Alan through his paces in Blue Lion.” She gnaws at her lip a little, clearly troubled by the dilemma.

Now that’s interesting. Assuming that she talked to Coran some time before I did, that means he already had the orphanage trip planned long before I reported to his office this morning. So why did he act like the thought had just occurred to him while we were talking?

“Is there any way we could adjust the schedule somehow?” Allura wrings her hands and sends a silent plea at me through her soft blue eyes. “I really do want to supervise Alan’s training, but I haven’t seen the children in such a long time...”

I study my shoes briefly as I ponder how to reply. It seems that she’s as much in the dark about Coran’s maneuvering as I was. I feel like I should tell her about the whole set-up, but right now it’s only a suspicion and I don’t want to create friction between her and Coran for nothing.

“You don’t have to worry,” I reply. “I’ve moved the schedule back a day. You’ll be able to get Alan started today.”

Her eyes light up immediately. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Thank you, Keith, for understanding.” She touches my arm and smiles. I feel really silly all of a sudden. This isn’t about politics, it’s about the kids. Coran has the best intentions for doing what he’s doing. Right?

Right.

I guess I’m just having a problem with the way he’s going about it. It feels a little too sneaky for my taste. I bet Lance would agree with me if I explained it to him...

“Keith - are you listening to me?”

“Huh?”

“I just asked you what’s on the agenda for Alan’s training session.”

“Oh, umm…well, you’ll be on-hand to offer real-time advice while he gets some real-time flying experience. I’d like him to have at least an hour under his belt, but more is better. Feel free to take as much time as you think you’ll need, but the flight log should be turned in before evening watch.”

“All right.” She pauses as we reach the doorway to the meeting hall. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

She hands the clipboard back. “You know, this is a good idea. Having more pilots available to operate Voltron takes the pressure off of our team and gives everyone more time for themselves. And the new girls added to the castle staff will be very helpful too.”

“Really?”

She smiles at me. “Really.”

“Thank you, Princess. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

“You’re welcome. I should have most of my errands finished in a couple of hours. I’ll get in touch with Alan after that. See you.” She wriggles her fingers at me and turns to depart. I pause where I am for a moment to collect my thoughts. Maneuvering or no, I think this will be a good thing in the long run. And Allura agrees with me. That’s all that matters, really.

I tuck the clipboard under my arm and head into the meeting room.

“Hey Dexter, there’s the Captain.” Galen nods toward the doorway as Keith enters the room. “I wonder what took him so long?”

Dunkirk breaks into a big grin. “Well, lad, ye can be sure if th’ Princess was nearby, Keith had a good enough reason for th’ delay.”

Tasia leans around me to make a face at him. “Dunny, cut it out - you make it sound like he follows her around like a lost puppy.”

“Bow wow,” Alan says with a smirk. Dunkirk chuckles. Tasia swats Alan’s arm. Keith takes notice of our little disturbance and arches an eyebrow at me. I shrug back at him in reply, then I nudge Tasia gently with an elbow. “Shh, the Captain’s ready to start.”

“Tell him, then,” Tasia retorts and tilts her head Alan’s way. Alan promptly quiets and folds his hands in his lap. Dunkirk gives an exaggerated sigh.

“Ye can dress ‘em up, but ye canna take ‘em anywhere,” he quips. “Stick with yer left side, Captain. We’re th’ best behaved o’ th’ bunch.”

Tasia is gearing up to make a very tart reply when I gently shush her. Then I think about Dunkirk’s remark and take a moment to study our seating arrangement. For some odd reason, regardless of where we happen to be, my team insists on arranging themselves around me according to their Lion formation. Now is no different. Tasia is at my immediate right with Alan beside her, and Galen and Dunkirk, respectively, sit on my left. They have yet to explain to me exactly why they do it…

“Are we ready? May I begin now?” Keith tilts his head and awaits my answer. I give up on the seating mystery for now, return my attention to the Captain and give him a hearty thumbs-up.

“All right, then. Good morning, everyone. As you know, today is the day when everyone gets the chance to look at the new pilot’s uniform design. My team and I have already seen them, having been present for the initial fittings, but as of this morning the new Voltron Force flight suit will make its official public debut.”

He turns and gestures toward a partition set up to the right of the podium he’s standing at. Lance comes strolling from behind it to stand beside Keith on cue. The outfit Lance is wearing is a one-piece jumpsuit with a long zipper running down the middle. It’s dark gray with a wide stripe of lighter gray running down the center of the torso and some black padding around the ribs. His boots, gloves and a large ‘V’’ design that starts over the shoulders and ends right at the belt are all blue in color. There’s a lot of gold trim to accent the details and a name tag on the right side of the chest. It’s a really sharp-looking setup.

Everyone starts talking quietly among themselves as they take in the new design. Lance grins and hams it up by striking a pose and winking at Shannon, who is seated across the room with Caroline and Lynne. Keith arches an eyebrow at Lance before he resumes his speech.

“As you can see, this new suit deviates quite a bit from the original uniform.” He picks up a pointer from the podium and waves it in Lance‘s general direction. “The fabric overall is heavier and is made of a synthetic, reflective weave which provides a high level of protection against laser fire.” He raises Lance’s right arm and Lance lets it hang there like an obedient clothes dummy.

“It also has an extra layer of protection for the rib cage, as indicated by these black panels on either side. Attachment points for the laser pistol holster are available on either hip to accommodate both right and left-handers. An additional storage pouch can be carried on the empty side in lieu of a holster, for other items if necessary. A first aid fanny pack can be placed on the back at the belt area, and the helmet is now a full-face protection model, sealing off at the neck and allowing for use in hostile atmospheres up to but not including corrosive ones. Air tanks can be attached if necessary.”

“And best of all,” Lance adds, “they have pockets!” He grins and promptly stuffs his hands in them. Everyone laughs. Keith shakes his head, then he addresses the group. “Are there any questions?”

Alan raises a hand, then speaks up. “Yes. Have they been loaded into the system yet, or will we still be wearing the original uniforms for now?”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t get an update from our newest Lion technician.” He turns his attention toward the civilian group clustered on the other side of the room. “Shannon...?”

“I still have some last-minute changes to make to the code, because I found a few glitches while debugging,” Shannon replies. I’m hoping to make a test run sometime today, but I can’t say exactly when.”

“Do you need any help, Shannon?” Pidge casts a hopeful look her way. Shannon smiles and shakes her head.

“Thanks, sweetie, but Lance has already volunteered to lend a hand while I run the program through the transition booth. I’ll keep you in mind, though, all right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge replies and leans back in his chair with a pronounced sulk. He couldn’t look any greener with envy if someone dipped him headfirst in a bucket of his Lion’s paint.

“Lance won’t mutate during the process, will he?” Keith asks Shannon with a slight smile.

“You mean he hasn’t already?” Pidge says. That brings a round of chuckles from the group. Lance sticks his thumbs in his ears and wiggles his fingers at Pidge.

“No, the only real danger is that he could wind up naked if the buffer doesn’t load properly.”

Lance grins at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is where you’re concerned,” Hunk replies. More laughter ensues, then Keith makes a quieting gesture with a hand. Lance gets permission to work with Shannon, which makes him very happy. Pidge, on the other hand, looks very not-happy. He gives a derisive snort.

“I’ll show you what being a volunteer is like, Lance,” he mutters. “Oh, yes, I will.”

I turn and look at him. He takes notice of my scrutiny and blinks back at me with wide-eyed innocence. I arch an eyebrow, and he shrugs in reply. I return my attention to the discussion as the questions resume.

“I notice there’s nae a communicator in th’ belt buckle on this uniform,” Dunkirk says. “So what’ll we be usin’ in place o’ it?”

“We’ll have a larger clip-on version that attaches to the belt from this point on,” Keith replies. “There’s a couple of perks that come with the change - the range will be increased, and it will have a ping-style beeper for more accurate location in times of emergency.”

“Sounds cool,” Tasia says.

“Is the Princess getting a pink uniform?” Galen asks with a silly grin on his face.

Keith purses his lips. “Actually, she requested the blue one this time around.”

“That’s because the blue one looks the best,” Lance says.

“I second that,” Alan replies.

“Ye’re out o’ your tree,” Dunkirk says. “Th’ yellow one is obviously goin’ t’ be th’ best lookin’ one.”

“The black one will be pretty sharp,” I say to myself.

Tasia makes a remark about the red uniform being the best choice, of course, and Galen puts his vote in for the green one. Pidge, however, is strangely quiet. I look around once more to find him lost in deep thought.

“Okay everyone, that’s pretty much it for the uniform presentation,” Keith says. “On to the schedule for today. There’s been a minor change in plans. I’ve decided to move the orientation for Team Two back a day. Dexter, your team is to have their flight time completed by this evening, and you’ll start your first official day of work tomorrow.”

Lance gets a funny look on his face and gives Keith a sideways glance, but he doesn’t say anything. Hunk whispers something quietly to Pidge. I hear the words ‘Coran’ and ‘pressure’, but nothing else. Pidge snaps out of his musing to nod in reply. Keith takes in the reactions of his teammates with a flicker of mild displeasure on his face before he clears his throat quietly to continue.

“I’ll be helping Dexter get oriented with the finer details of the control console down in the command center. People on my team, I want you to give us three hours, then report there with your backups and we’ll get things started. I want them in the air for an hour at the very minimum. You can go all day if you like, but seniors will be expected to take the helm in case of emergency.

“All flight logs are to be turned in before evening watch. After I review them all, I’ll be able to tell who needs more time in the air and who doesn’t. Those who do will take it during evening watch. Same rules apply, you’ll have a senior present and if trouble comes along, they resume control.

“That concludes the meeting for this morning, but feel free to stick around and get a good look at the new flight suit for a few minutes before you go about your business. And that’s it, you’re all dismissed.”

Hunk gets to his feet. “Okay, let’s get a look at the new duds. C’mere, Lance.” He walks over, seizes Lance by the front of his outfit with both hands and lifts him into the air. Then he looks around at Dunkirk and grins. “Tough fabric.”

Dunkirk studies Lance thoughtfully. “Aye, so it seems.” He walks up behind Lance to take hold of the uniform from the back, still keeping Lance up in the air as Hunk lets go of him. He bounces Lance a couple of times. “It’s got a good bit o’ stretch t’ it too. Feels like maybe it’s that moleskin kinda stuff.”

The rest of the group gathers around Lance on all sides as Dunkirk sets him on his feet. Tasia tugs at a sleeve. “Wonder how fire-resistant it is. I should have asked.”

“Probably a little better than standard, I would think.” Alan pulls one of Lance’s gloves off. Lance blinks at him as Alan tries it on for size.

“Nice fit,” Alan says and replaces the glove on Lance’s hand. Lance gets tired of the extra attention real quick. He swats hands away on all sides.

“All right, the Lance-molesting session is officially over,” he snorts. “I don’t need to be abused by you people. I can go anywhere and get it.”

Tasia folds her arms and smirks at him. “We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t love you, lionboy.”

Lance makes a face at her. “I can think of better ways to be loved, thank you.”

“So can I, baby, but you couldn’t handle half of them.”

The remark draws a chorus of ‘ooohs’ from the guys and giggles from the girls, especially Shannon. Lance arches an eyebrow at Tasia. She gives him a smirk and this quick little side-to-side bob of her head. He rolls his eyes and re-stuffs his hands into his pockets. Tasia taps him on the end of the nose and walks over to talk to Shannon.

The rest of the group begins to break up, the pilots forming little teams according to their respective Lions. Lance takes Keith aside and they have a brief exchange that makes Keith frown and shake his head a lot. Then Lance heads in Tasia’s direction and Keith heads my way.

Dexter gives an informal salute, then he moves to meet me halfway as I cross the room. I glance up at him as he gets close. He’s a few inches taller and a few pounds heavier than me, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and a lot less tension in his bearing. I couldn’t have picked a person more opposite to me if I tried.

“We ready to start, Captain-Captain?” He flashes that infamous smile of his, a mega-watt showing of straight white teeth that has probably allowed him to charm his way all through life up until now.

“A little excited, are we?”

“Excited? How could you tell?”

“Just a wild guess. Come on, let’s get you down to the control center. I want to see if you remember how to shut down the auto-alarm system, for starters.”

“Yessir.” He follows as I exit the room, his stride casual and very relaxed. It’s times like these that I can almost see him with a surfboard tucked under his arm, strolling along a sun-drenched beach. Part way along, however, his easygoing demeanor fades a little and he starts chewing on his thumbnail, a sure sign of stress. I used to see him do it all the time during his competition for the Captain’s chair.

“Dexter?”

“Yeah?”

“You do recall how to shut down the auto-alarm, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what are you so uptight about all of a sudden?”

“Uptight? Me?” He runs a hand over his blonde hair and attempts another smile. It’s a little shaky around the edges this time, though. “No way. I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“You probably don’t know the meaning of the word ‘vexillum’ either, but that’s neither here nor there.”

He blinks at me, a total lack of comprehension on his face. “Huh?”

“That was meant to be a joke. Never mind.”

“Oh. Okay.” We resume our walk. A faraway look comes to his eyes, as if he’s contemplating something important as he goes. Then he turns to me just as we reach the entrance to the center.

“A military standard or flag carried by ancient Roman troops.”

Now it’s my turn to look dumbfounded. “What?”

“That’s the definition for ‘vexillum’. One of them, anyway. I don’t remember the others, but I know there’s more than one. I think one has something to do with a flower...” He rubs at his chin.

“Dexter, you think too much.”

He smiles at me again, and this time it carries all of its usual charisma. “I learned from the best.”

“Too well. Now go sit in the chair.”

“Yessir.”

“Hey, Dunny, you know the gals, right? Shanny, Lynne and Caro?”

“Aye, Hunk, we crossed paths from time t’ time at th’ Academy. T’is a pleasant refeshin’ o’ me memory, t’ be sure.” He grins at Lynne in particular. Lynne rolls her eyes.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she says. It sounds a little sarcastic to me, but Dunny doesn’t seem to notice.

“Always a pleasure t’ be in yer company, lass.”

Caro and Shannon exchange looks, then they giggle. Lynne stares them down, but it doesn’t do her any good. It just makes them giggle more. She gives up and glances toward the doorway.

“Well, I can’t speak for my friends, but I have work to do, down in the library. I should be going.”

“Th’ library? Well, now that’s incentive for me t’ bring me books back on time.”

Lynne doesn’t look the least bit impressed. “How nice of you.” She looks at the others. “You coming along?”

“Sure,” Shannon replies brightly. They start for the door. Lance, however, is making a beeline for Shannon at the same time. He catches up and stops her to chat about something. Then he makes a point of looking across the room as he drapes an arm around Shannon’s shoulders and gives her a kiss on the cheek. I turn my head to see what he’s looking at.

Pidge is still sitting in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. He has a look on his face that’s kinda scary, like he could kill somebody. And it’s Lance that he’s aiming the look at. Lance is grinning back. He thinks it’s funny.

Pidge has got a crush on Shannon a mile wide, and Lance knows it. But he should know better than to tease the kid like that. Fine. I’m not getting in the middle of it unless things get ugly. And if they do, I’m just gonna hold Lance down so Pidge can pound on him for awhile. That ought to fix things up pretty well.

Shannon has freed herself from Lance’s hold and she’s on her way through the door with Caro and Lynne. Caro turns back to give me a smile and a quick little wave just before they vanish into the hallway. I wave back at her. Dunkirk rubs at his chin in thought for a moment. He gives me a sideways glance.

“Hunk…can I ask ye a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“How’d ye manage t’ get three lasses th’ likes o’ that chasin’ ye around all at once? If that were my situation, I woulda stopped runnin’ a long time ago.”

“Uhh, well...I dunno. It just kinda happened, that’s all.”

He makes a face at me. “No, ye donna get a blonde, a brunette an’ a redhead, an’ all o’ them stacked like yesterday’s business, fallin’ all over ye for no explainable reason.” He grins at me. “I’ve heard they’re called ‘Hunk’s Harem’, ye know.”

My face gets hot, and I frown at him. “Lance made that up, and he’s probably just jealous because Shannon pays more attention to me than she does to him. They ain’t my harem gals. We’re all just good friends, and that’s it.”

“Well, if that’s th’ truth, I’m sure ye wonna mind if I were t’ take Lynne off yer hands then, aye? Ye’ll only have t’ deal with two o’ them then. Ye’ll still have every man’s dream goin’ for ye.”

“Every man’s dream? What’cha talking about?”

He looks stunned. “Ye donna know?”

“Should I?”

Dunkirk rubs at his chin with a hand. “Lad...you an’ me are gonna have t’ have a man-t’-man talk sometime soon.”

“About what?”

“If ye donna know, then that’s all th’ more reason t’ be havin’ it, trust me.”

“Okay, whatever. In the meantime, if you got any questions about Yellow Lion that you can think of before we’re airborne, now’s a good time to ask.”

“Nothin’ comes t’ mind right at th’ moment. Say - I’m wonderin’ if we might pay a visit somewhere, since we got th’ extra time.”

“Sure, no problem. Where to?”

“I’m tryin’ t’ fix that darned buggy o’ mine. I’m stallin’ at idle. Started all o’ a sudden out o’ nowhere. I canna figure it out. I’ve half a mind t’ take a wrench t’ th’ bloody thing an’ be done with it.”

He would, too, and he’d do some serious damage if he did. Dunkirk is my size and build, a big, red-haired Scot with an even bigger temper when he cuts loose.

“Patience, Dunny, patience. Where ya parked at? Vehicle bay?”

“Aye.”

“Okay, let’s go have a look at it, then.”

“Aye.”

When we get to the SUV, Dunkirk opens the hood and steps aside. I lean in close to take a look. “What didja check so far?”

“Everythin’ I could think o’. Th’ ignition module’s fine, th’ spark plugs an’ th’ distributor are fine, an’ I’ve replaced just about all th’ other parts I can, short o’ doin’ a full tear-down o’ th’ whole blasted engine.” He flicks his long braid back over his shoulder and leans in to tug on the radiator hose. “Ye see that? It’s brand new.”

“What about your PVC valve? Didja look at that yet?”

“No, I didna. Ye think I should?”

“Yep. Eighty percent of the time a stalling problem is connected to the PVC valve. It gets dirty, then it gets stuck. That’s the first thing you oughtta check when that kinda problem comes up. You’d be surprised how often it fixes it.”

“Aye, we’ll give it a go, then.” He gets his tools from the back of the vehicle, yanks the valve, looks it over.

“Well, I’ll be. I think ye may be right.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s tidy it up and see what happens.”

Once he gets it clean, he puts it back and asks me to go crank the engine while he stands by. It starts up and I let it idle for a few minutes. It keeps right on running. Dunny looks pretty disgusted as he lets the hood drop into place.

“I’ll be damned.” He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head in disgust. I lean through the window to grin at him.

“Told ya so, oh ye of little faith.”

“Well, now that it’s taken care o’, I can go tilt a few back.”

“No you can’t. You’ve got some flying to do today, remember? We’ll be airborne in about an hour and a half.”

“That’s still time enough t’ celebrate. Me dad gave me a bottle o’ good Scotch t’ break open th’ day me job became official. It’s a single malt, an’ sixteen years old t’ boot. Come on, we’ll have a drink in me room before we get started.”

I hesitate for a minute. Dunkirk’s idea of one drink usually means ‘one after the other’. “I dunno, Dunny. We could get into some serious trouble if we got carried away...”

He makes a dismissing wave with his hand. “It’s just one teensy little drink. One drink wonna kill ye.”

“But Keith will, if we show up drunk at Castle Control.”

“We’ll be fine. Trust me. Th’ Captain canna begrudge ye a wee bit o’ celebratin’ with yer junior pilot, can he?”

“I guess not...”

“There ye have it, then. Come on, let’s be off.”

I shut off the engine, climb out of the vehicle and point a finger at him. “Just one drink, now...and only one.”

“O’ course, only one.” He breaks into a big grin. “Canna fly th’ Lion if I’m pissed t’ th’ gills, now can I?” He claps me on the back. We pack up the tools and drop them in the back of his SUV before we go. I sure hope I’m not gonna regret this…

Look at that. Just look. He’s hanging all over Shannon like he owns her or something, and they’re not even dating. At least I don’t think they are. I sure hope not. No way will Lance ever appreciate her like she needs to be. Shannon needs someone who will respect her brains, and not her boobs.

She needs someone like me.

Ahh, come on, Pidge. Who are you kidding? She acts like you’re her kid brother, and that’s it. Of course, that has everything to do with your being five years younger than she is. Emotional maturity doesn’t count for squat when it comes to legal statutes. Being sweet sixteen only matters in really stupid love songs.

Lance glances my way, smirks at me and decides to add insult to injury by kissing Shannon on the cheek before he walks away with Tasia. What a jerk. Where is Galen? I need to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret later. Actually, the thing for me to regret later is already percolating rather nicely in my brain. I’m going to take Lance’s ego down a notch or two. We’ll see just how much showing off he does when I’m through with him.

The room is nearly empty now. Hunk and Dunkirk are across the room, chatting with Shannon and her friends. Dunkirk is grinning at Lynne, and Lynne is pouting back at him. Shannon and Caro think it’s funny for some reason, especially Shannon. She has such a nice smile…

Damn it, where’s Galen?

I take a quick look around the room. Galen is sitting in a chair near the door with his laptop open and his attention glued to the display. He doesn’t look up when I come even with his chair.

“Galen...what are you doing, goober?”

He smiles up at me and taps a key. “Pidge, dude. Check this out. I just found the twelfth crystal orb!”

“Oh man, the Orb of Shallas? I’m nowhere near that part of the level yet!” I plunk down in the chair beside him and look over his arm to study the display. It’s playing a cinematic of his mage character, Gerath Lightweilder, proudly holding the Orb aloft to admire it. Galen gives me a smug look.

“You should always stick with the elves in this game, dude. They get extra bonuses for using magic spells, and that’s on top of all the plusses a mage already has.”

“Nahh, I started out with the human warrior, and I’ll finish with him. That way I get a real challenge out of it.”

Galen wrinkles his nose. “Elves are better, especially an Elven mage.”

“But a mage can’t use the crystal sword, and that does the best damage to Slagg the Devourer when you meet him at the Brass Gates.”

“Not necessarily. My Ice Spell at level six does some pretty good damage too because Slagg is a fire creature.”

“Awww, man...you’re right. I didn’t even think of that.”

“See? I told you, Elven mages rule.”

“I’m still going to complete the quest with Ferrik Hawk first, then maybe I’ll use an elf next round.”

“Suit yourself, dude.” Galen shrugs and glances up as Alan passes us by.

“I wonder where Princess Allura is at,” he muses. “She’s supposed to work with Alan, right?”

“Yeah.”

He gets quiet and studies me thoughtfully with those pale blue eyes of his. I hate it when he gets that expression on his face. I always get this weird feeling like he could look into my head and read my thoughts whenever he does it. I frown at him.

“Galen, you’re giving me ‘the look’ again. Knock it off, goober.”

“Oops, sorry.” He blinks and runs a hand over his hair. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“Well, you were. And it creeps me out whenever you do. Do you practice that in a mirror or something?”

“No. I was just wondering why Keith decided to move things up a day. He usually doesn’t change a schedule once he sets it. It has something to do with the princess, doesn’t it?”

“Probably. Coran really wants her off the team now since we have backup pilots for the Lions. Hunk thinks Keith changed things around because Coran pressured him about it.”

Galen frowns a little. “Politics...don’t they suck?”

“Yep, they sure do.”

“We’ve got three hours before we report to the command center. Wanna deathmatch? I’ll go easy on you. Promise.”

I smirk at him. “Keep dreaming, goob. Keep dreaming.”

He grins back, then all of a sudden I get the look again. “What’s bugging you, Pidge?”

“What are you talking about? Nothing’s bugging me.”

“You’re lying. You look like you’re plotting something evil. I can see it in your face.”

“I’m not plotting anything. I’m just trying to figure out what we should do during your flight training. Maybe after we’ve been in the air for a little while I’ll show you how to pick up unlimited satellite channels with Green Lion’s sensor array.”

Galen shakes his head. “That’s not an ‘I want to teach Galen Green Lion tricks’ look. That’s an ‘I want to gut Lance for getting all chummy with Shannon’ look. I saw how you were staring at them, dude.”

“So what?” I give a shrug. “Shannon can hang around anyone she wants to. It’s none of my business.”

Galen grins. “Stop trying to play it off with me, Pidge. It won’t work. I know you.”

I glare at him and get the look in reply. I feel all creeped out again.

“Will you stop that?”

“Admit it. I’m right, and you know it.”

“All right, fine. You’re right. And if you must know, I’m plotting Lance’s demise even as we speak. Happy now?”

“What are you going to do?” Galen’s expression turns from thoughtfulness to concern. At least he doesn’t look like he’s trying to probe my brain anymore. That’s a good thing.

“Let’s put it this way. If my plan succeeds, he won’t be showing off in front of Shannon or anyone else. He’ll be so embarrassed that he’ll walk around with a sack over his head for the rest of his life.”

“And how are you going to accomplish that?”

“I’m going to alter the program in his access silo so that when he uses it, he’ll wind up in Princess Allura’s gown instead of his normal clothes.”

“Whoa,” Galen says with awe in his voice. “That sounds truly wicked.”

“That’s because it is truly wicked. Still want to deathmatch?”

“Okay.” He closes his laptop, gets to his feet. I lead the way out of the room.

Tasia gives me a sideways glance after examining her perfectly coifed nails. “We ready to go now that you’re through drooling on Shannon, Lance?”

“Drooling? I wasn’t drooling.”

She sweeps her glossy, dark hair off her shoulders and plants her hands on her hips. “You most certainly were drooling. I think I heard her ask Lynne where she could find herself a towel real quick.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. I bet you’re hours worth of entertainment ”

“Well, I’m gonna need something to do while I’m waiting to fly my Lion.”

I make a face at her. “Excuse me? Your Lion...?”

“You heard me. I didn’t stutter. My Lion. I don’t see why we have to wait three whole hours before I hit the air.” She scrunches her face up, making wrinkles in her smooth, caramel-colored skin that normally aren’t there. “Three hours. Hagar could knit a sweater for one of her robeasts by then. She could knit a whole robeast from scratch. A sweater beast.”

“A sweater beast?.”

“Yeah. It would attack with a giant pair of knitting needles and weave some sort of electromagnetic field around Voltron or something...” She gets an expression of mock severity, then she smiles. I chuckle and shake my head.

“Sweater beast or no sweater beast, you don’t get behind the wheel of - my Lion, thank you very much - until Keith gets Dexter settled in at Castle Control. In the meantime, we can use this opportunity to review some more of the non-combat procedures - ”

“The boring stuff.” She sighs and folds her arms. “I wanna fly. Come on, hook me up with the Lion action, already.”

“Look, Tasia, you need to know what you’re doing on the ground as well as in the air. Are you trying to tell me that you’re completely familiar with every procedure in the book?”

She breaks into laughter, a sparkle coming to her big, brown eyes. “Listen to you, acting like you wanna be just like Keith when you grow up. Cut it out. If you were me, you’d be itching to get in the air too. Don’t even try to act like you wouldn’t” Her full red lips twist into a smug little grin that I can’t help but smile back at. I guess I am pretty transparent when it comes to flying. Flying my Lion, that is. I don’t know where she gets the idea that it’s hers. I mean, really...

“Well, if you don’t want to review, then I guess we’ve got nothing else to do for three hours. Maybe I could go talk Shannon into reviewing some hands-on procedures with me...” I waggle my eyebrows and let the sentence trail off meaningfully. Her own eyebrows shoot upward into the region of her bangs, then she smirks.

“Lance, honey...if you’re gonna talk trash like that, you better make sure you got the brass to back it up. ‘Cause the day Shanny gets her hands on you, she’ll lay you out flatter than wholesale carpet and jack you up so hard you’ll think you got four wheels, a motor, and a belly full of gas.”

“Don’t I wish.” I grin at her. “Vrooooom.”

She laughs and taps a finger on the end of my nose. “You are a serious trip.”

“I’ve been told that before. Are we going to review anything or not?”

“Fine, let’s go. I want to try the simulator one last time before I fly -”

“My Lion,” we say simultaneously. We stare each other down briefly before we head to the simulator room.

“That’s all for this meeting, then,” Coran says to the somber faces arranged around the table. “Council adjourned.”

The group rises from the table all at once, every head dipping to me in respect as they pass by on the way to the exit. And not one of them is smiling. Just once, I would like to see them smile. I wonder if they do it once they’re away from the meetings. Lance explained the meaning of a poker face to me once. It makes me wonder if this is the same kind of situation, only we aren’t playing games. When the last person is gone, I get to my feet and stretch.

“I have some good news for you, Allura.” Coran is smiling as he picks up his digital notepad from the table. “Arrangements for your visit to Hearthvale tomorrow are well underway. I had a discussion at length with Nanny, and we decided that a birthday party theme would work best.”

“I don’t know if that would go over so well, Coran. The children who didn’t have a birthday tomorrow might feel left out.”

“That’s why we’ll make this a birthday celebration for everyone,” he replies. “Nanny is making a cake large enough for every child in the orphanage to have their share. I’ve ordered balloons, favors, a mountain of toys, and plenty of activities are being planned. I’m certain it will make them all very happy, especially if their princess is present to join the festivities.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. You know, it may be good to have a couple of the guys come along as well. The children would be inspired by a visit from members of the Voltron Force, don’t you think?”

Coran’s expression changes from a smile to something almost like the blank, stony look I saw on all sides of me at the meeting earlier.

“The Voltron Force? I imagine they’ll be busy tomorrow, won’t they?”

I tilt my head at him. “Not with Dexter’s team being in charge, remember?”

“Ah yes, that is right. I suppose asking for volunteers isn’t out of the question…” He clears his throat a little and resumes his former cheer. Can a poker face smile? I’ll have to ask Lance about that.

“All right, I’ll ask them and let you know what they say.”

“Thank you, Allura. I’ll see you later then, yes?” He bows and leaves the room. I frown after him as he goes. I remember all too well the many times that he and Nanny snubbed Keith and the others before. But they are my friends. Good friends. I’ve fought alongside them, shared dangers and risk with them. I won’t assume that our friendship is gone because I won’t be on the team anymore. And if Coran thinks that my departure from the Voltron Force will change my feelings for Keith, he’s wrong. Dead wrong.

“Dead wrong,” I say aloud to the empty room, then I leave to find Alan. He’s in our usual sitting room, reading a book. He looks up as I enter and immediately rises to his feet.

“Good Morning, Your Highness.” He starts to give me a bow. I wave at him frantically with both hands to urge him to stop. He arches an eyebrow and freezes in place halfway into the bend.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. Can we lose the bowing and scraping part? It makes me feel like I’m a fat old Queen in my fifties or something.”

“Lose the…?” he straightens up and smiles slightly. “It sounds as if Lance has been rubbing off on you.”

“Maybe. I don’t mind when Lance rubs - oh, that is definitely not coming out right.”

Alan smiles, then he shrugs. “And here I was, under the belief that Keith was your personal choice where rubbing was concerned.” He smiles wider at the expression of surprise that crosses my face. “Come now, Your Highness. Surely you realize there’s all sorts of gossip roaming the castle about a secret affair between you and Keith.”

“There is?”

“Yes. The general assumption is that it’s been going on for years, not long after he arrived on Arus.” He looks like he has something more to say, but he doesn’t. I tilt my head and study him for a moment.

“What else have you heard?”

“Umm...I don’t know if I should elaborate.”

“Go ahead. I’m a big girl. I’m sure I can take it.”

He pauses for a long time, obviously searching for the right words to say. “Well, there’s been a lot of speculation about how many times the two of you have been intimate with each other...”

“You’re teasing me. People actually think that Keith and I have...?” I feel my cheeks grow warm. Alan nods.

“Yes, they do. Tasia is pretty sure you haven’t yet, though.”

“Why?”

He purses his lips. “I don’t think I should quote her verbatim...”

“Go on. You’ve already told me this much, so why stop now?”

“All right. Tasia thinks you haven’t been with Keith yet, and I quote, ‘Because she’d have a smile on her face that plastic surgery couldn’t remove if she had.’”

I feel an immediate surge of blended emotion - embarrassment, offense and a touch of outrage - at Tasia’s remark. But a long-frustrated part of me deep down inside knows that she’s absolutely right in her own coarse but honest way. With that assessment having been made, I now see the humor in it. I shrug to myself and smile.

“She may be right. But it’ll never come to that. Keith is very loyal to me - I have no doubt of that. But the chances of us having an affair, or a relationship of any type at all is probably zero. Those sort of things require love as a motivation, and I doubt that love is an issue here.”

Alan looks a little stunned at my frank admission. Then confusion replaces his surprise. “What makes you think that he doesn’t love you?”

“What makes you think that he does?”

“I would think that routinely stepping in the way of Lotor’s sword to insure your safety is a fair enough demonstration of devotion.”

I feel myself wince inwardly at the recollection. Still, this is a debate I’ve had with myself for a long time, and it’s interesting to have someone else besides Lance to share my thoughts with.

“But is it truly devotion, or is it merely obligation? Any devoted Arusian patriot or a soldier in service to me would do the exact same thing willingly in order to express their zeal for the Crown. It still doesn’t prove much of anything.”

“But a soldier is obligated by default. He would be expected to defend your royal person, because that’s what his job entails.”

“And so does Keith’s, when it comes right down to it. He’s a soldier too.”

Alan rubs at his chin. “So what you’re saying is that you believe Keith does the things he does out of a sense of duty, and not of love.”

“Yes.”

“Can you honestly say that everything in the past that Keith has done on your behalf could arise out of duty alone?”

“No...but again, some of the things he’s done are the same things done by any of my more devoted citizens. It still doesn’t prove love.”

“If you went into the city, walked up to one of your people and asked them to go jump off of the castle roof, do you think they would do it?”

“I suppose there’s a very good chance of that, but it would probably be done either out of fear of royal reprisal, or under the assumption that I was testing them and they would make the gesture with the expectation that I would call them back at the last minute. And none of that would be a demonstration of love in any case.”

“What if you asked Keith to go jump off of the castle roof? What do you think he’d do?”

“I think he’d ask me if I got a bump on the head from practice yesterday after all.”

“What if you told him you wanted him to do it as proof of his love for you? Not obligation, not the direct order of a princess to her soldier, just strictly as a demonstration of his love?”

“If I wanted such a demonstration, why would I tell him to go jump off of the roof in the first place? It wouldn’t do me any good to discover at last that he loved me as they dragged the moat for his corpse.”

“But he wouldn’t risk life and limb over a feeling he doesn’t have, right?”

“I’m pretty certain he wouldn’t, no.”

“Then what if you gave him a test that wasn’t so dangerous, but with the same principle in mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you chose something for him to do that isn’t at all related to his military obligation, and it’s also something he doesn’t really like to do, but he did it anyway just to please you, I think that would be a really big hint as to his feelings for you. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I think it would. But what is there that he doesn’t like to do?” I pause for a moment in thought. “Lance…he would know, I’m certain. I’ll ask Lance for details, and then I’ll think up a test and find out once for all. In the meantime, let’s review your knowledge of Blue Lion. Give me a rundown of the pre-flight checks you’re expected to do before a non-emergency launch.”

Dexter has all of the basics down as far as the separate components of the command console are concerned. Time to test his working knowledge.

“Give me a current subspace status report, will you?”

Dexter gives a barely audible grunt in reply as he types in the command for a feedback request to Arus One. I’m glad he actually remembered that the satellite link between the space platform and the castle has been active for a few months now. Good man.

“Alpha point is currently at code green”, he reads aloud as the information scrolls up the secondary screen on his left. “No unusual occurrences to report. Ship activity is light to moderate with cargo transports making up eighty percent of the incoming traffic. Twenty-seven refueling requests have been made in the past twenty minutes. The subspace patrol reports non-combat incidents currently at two - a loosened tether line and a flyaway cargo skiff that wasn’t secured properly before docking took place. Both incidents resolved without injuries. Property damage is negligible.”

“Okay. Let me have a point by point scan of Quadrant Seven.”

“Yessir.” He does some more typing, and we get a steady stream of images from all the designated observation points in sequence. Lance and Tasia come strolling in as the data continues to arrive. Tasia glances at her watch, then she gives us a wave.

“Time’s about up, Cap’n Keithie,” she says to me. “You got the boy whipped into shape yet?”

I arch an eyebrow at her, then I look at Dexter. He shakes his head ‘no’ ever so slightly. I look back at Tasia.

“Sure, we’re all set.” I pat Dexter on the shoulder. “Your show.” I step down from the platform and head for the exit. I hear the chair spin behind me as I go.

“Keith - where are you going?”

I stop and turn to look at him. He’s already got his thumbnail to his mouth and a look of desperation on his face. I give him a shrug.

“Hey, you’re Captain for the day, not me. I’m going to go have a soda or something. See you around.” I turn and start for the exit once more.

“But I thought you were supposed to stick around and supervise,” he calls after me. “I’m not officially on duty until tomorrow!”

I pause at the doorway to turn back and look at him. “Correction - everything’s been moved back a day, remember?”

“I assumed that was just the flight time you were talking about.”

“You’re never supposed to assume, Dexter. You know how the saying goes.”

“But what do you want me to do?”

I give him a shrug. “Do whatever. It’s all you.”

He wrinkles up his face. “But -”

I can’t help but chuckle a little. “Dexter, if you do well, you do well. If you don’t, you’ll see what you need to fix. That’s all there is to it. No real test for that.”

He looks over his shoulder at the console and frowns a little. Then he says a very rude word under his breath and turns back toward the main screen with a sigh. I wave goodbye at Lance and Tasia before I go.

I watch as Keith departs the command center, humming to himself as he goes. “Well, that was interesting.”

Tasia taps her chin with a finger and nods. “You said it, Lance.” She looks around at Dexter. “Does that mean we’re good to go, Captain?”

Dexter winces ever so slightly at the word ‘Captain’. I don’t get it. He’s such a stickler for running things according to Keith’s usual procedure, and he follows the rules to the letter. I was seriously beginning to think we should take up a collection to get him his own red jumpsuit. I don’t understand what he has to be nervous about. Must be first time jitters.

“Yeah, stand by for launch,” he says finally. “Lance, take her out on standard patrol, will you? That’ll get her familiar with the route as well as cover the hands-on training.”

Now he sounds about normal. “Righto, Cap’n.”

The platform raises and I start for Red Lion’s silo. So does Tasia. We stop and blink at each other just short of the drop-off.

“Me first,” she says. “You can grab the follow-up shuttle.”

“I’m the instructor. I go first.”

“Oh yeah? You wanna go head first?”

I fold my arms. “Let’s see you make me.”

She smiles at me as she takes the time to roll up her right sleeve, then she suddenly turns and leaps at the trapeze. I’m about to start after her when I realize what I’m doing and come to a screeching halt. Dexter leans out over the side of the platform to look down at me.

“We all right down there?”

“Fine. Tasia just got the drop on me, that’s all.” I circle around to the next silo, land in the shuttle and wait for Dexter to re-route it to Red Lion. Tasia is grinning from ear to ear when I arrive.

“Neener neener neener,” She says cheerfully. I frown at her.

“You caught me by surprise. Beginner’s luck.”

“Ain’t no such thing, baby. Let’s rock this town.” She hits the thrusters and Red Lion takes off like a shot. I get plastered against the far wall as we vault skyward.

Okay, so far, so good. Red Lion is in the air, the extra shuttle is back in place and I haven’t blown up the castle yet. Cool.

Galen and Pidge are having a debate about Elves for some reason when they enter the control room. They pause long enough for Pidge to wave up at me.

“Green Team reporting, Dexter. We’re ready to launch when you are.”

“Roger that.” I watch as they split up to take two different silos and they get sent off to Green Lion without a hitch. It’s all getting easier with practice. Then Alan and Princess Allura arrive, and they seem to be lost in conversation as well. But whatever they’re discussing must be pretty deep; they don’t even respond when I greet them. Oh well.

I turn my attention back to the console and repeat the sequence again. Route sequence primary, shuttle blue, activation confirmed. Route sequence secondary, auxiliary override, rotate shuttle platform, launch engaged, and Alan is off to Blue Lion as well. Not a problem. Just Hunk and Dunkirk to worry about now. I settle back into the chair and wait.

“This sure is a good drink, Dunny.” I swirl the contents around and take another sip. “What’cha call it again?”

“That would be a Scotch Cooler ye’ve got there. Hang on, I’ll make ye a Rob Roy next. Or maybe ye’d care t’ try some straight from th’ bottle - what d’ye think o’ that?” He holds up a tulip-shaped glass for me to see. “Ye drink it from this - t’is a nosin’ glass, meant t’ keep th’ aroma an’ allow ye t’ appreciate th’ Scotch properly.” He crosses the room to his dresser where the Scotch is sitting. “What d’ye think?”

“Not right now - I haven’t even finished the cooler yet.”

“Suit yerself.” I hear the sound of a bottle being opened and liquid pouring behind me as I study the drink in my hand.

“Scotch, huh? I thought this was whiskey.”

“No, lad. Anyone can make whiskey, but it’s only th’ spirits from Scotland that have th’ right t’ be called Scotch. T’is often imitated, but nae duplicated anywhere else in the universe - nae even on Doom.”

“Doom? They have Scotch on Doom?”

“Aye, they do.”

“How do you know?”

“Ye see, there was a Scotsman who knew how t’ make th’ stuff aboard a ship that got grabbed by King Zarkon, an’ that’s why th’ Drules have hagdral nowadays.”

“Get outta here.”

“I’m serious - Flynn Macduff was his name - volunteered for th’ first deep space expedition. It’s nae in th’ history books, mind ye, but I tell ye it’s th’ truth.”

I laugh out loud. “You’re full of it.”

“Nae yet, lad - th’ bottle’s nowhere near empty.”

“And it’s gotta stay that way, remember? We got a date with Castle Control coming up real soon.”

“Ye worry yourself too much, Hunk. That’ll give ye gray hairs before yer time.” He returns to the edge of his bed, sits and raises his glass aloft. “T’ Voltron, th’ biggest an’ th’ baddest butt-kickin’ bot this side o’ th’ galaxy.”

“Here, here.” I chuckle and finish off my glass, set it aside, then I look at my watch.

“We oughtta be on our way, Dunny. Dex should be finishing up in, say, thirty minutes or so.”

“On our way? But ye didna drink nae a drop o’ yer Rob Roy yet.”

“Huh? What Rob -” I turn my head to look in the direction he’s pointing. A full cocktail glass is sitting right by my elbow. I give Dunkirk a suspicious look, and he grins at me.

“Ye canna be wastin‘ good Scotch, lad. Go on, have a tilt back.”

“Dunny...come on, you know we’ll get in trouble if we show up plastered. You promised we’d only have one drink, remember?”

He nods firmly. “Aye, that I did. An’ we had one, but that was th’ toastin’ drink. That one there is t’ th’ princess’s health. Ye wouldna want t’ see Her Highness in bad health, would ye?”

“No, but I’m thinking about my own health right now. And yours.”

“We’re big lads. It takes two drinks t’ be a normal one for us.” He picks up his own glass, which has also magically refilled itself somehow. “Come on, then, have ol’ Rob salute th’ princess.”

“Okay, just this one, then we’re outta here. Right?”

He breaks into a big grin. “Aye, I wonna argue with ye any more. Promise.”

“Green Lion reporting,” Galen says cheerfully. “We’re twenty kilometers short of the eastern boundary of Quadrant Five. Our current cruising speed is five hundred kilometers per hour, at a ceiling of fifty-six thousand, three hundred twenty-seven kilometers. All systems are at passive scan, no unusual activity to report.”

“Roger, Green Lion, proceed on your present course and I’ll be hearing from you come next check-in.”

“Roger that, Captain. Green Lion out.”

I switch the screen over to pick up on Blue Lion. Alan has next to nothing to report as well, except for a large school of dolphins that are playing chase with the Lion as he cruises through the Delgadian Sea, a thousand kilometers to the southeast. So far, so good. I hail Red Lion. Lance is the one that answers, his voice edged in panic.

“Dexter, she’s a maniac! Stark raving nuts! Get me outta here!”

Tasia pipes up in the background. “Quit your whining, lionboy. This is one of your own techniques. Got it straight outta the flight archives.”

“No way,” he protests. “I’ve never, ever tried to wingover at that angle.”

“Oh yeah? Check database Alpha-three-alpha, subdirectory Red, log seven for the month of Se’nmoon. You did it three times during initial practice, and two more times during free-for-all maneuvers.”

There is a pause. “Umm...okay. Yeah, you’re right. That was the time I caught Pidge napping, and I - ahhhh! Slow down, slow down! Dexter, help! She’s gonna kill us both...!”

Tasia begins to sing. “I’m kinda buzzed, it’s all because...this is how we do it...” Then the channel cuts off. I’m not entirely sure whether I should laugh or not. Then another worry comes to mind. I still haven’t seen Hunk or Dunkirk yet. They’re almost an hour late. Wonder what happened to them?

As if in answer to my silent query, Hunk comes walking into the command center alone. There’s an odd sort of weaving motion in his steps, and he has a really big grin on his face.

“Heya, Chief Two. Yeller Team reporting.” He snaps out a wobbly salute. His voice is only a little slurred, but it’s enough to tell me what he’s been doing. I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Hunk...have you been drinking?”

“Eh…? Oh, yeah…” He grins and rubs at the back of his head. “But it was only one drink, Chief - honest.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“No, honest, it was just one. Really.” He begins to count off of his fingers. “One fer Voltron, one fer the princess…one fer Keith and one fer you - we didn’t forget you…one fer Black Lion, one fer Red Lion, one fer Blue Lion, one fer Green Lion, one fer Yeller Lion…another one fer Yeller Lion…”

Wow. It’s a wonder he’s still walking. I guess the hollow leg theory works for alcohol, too. And speaking of hollow legs, the other half of Yeller Team is missing.

“Hunk, where’s Dunkirk at?”

“Dunny? Right here.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Don’tcha see ‘im?”

“There’s no one behind you, Hunk.”

“Wha...?” He turns and gawks at the empty space behind him. Then he waves an arm back and forth in the empty air, scratches his head again. He turns to me again with genuine bewilderment on his face.

“Hey, Chief - Dunny ain’t back there!”

“I can see that.”

“He was right behind me...I don’t get it.” He looks over his shoulder once more. “Guess I better go look for him, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you’d better.”

“All righty, then. I’ll find him, Chief. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He heads back the way he came, with the same unsteady step he had before. He’s really plastered, and if he is, Dunkirk definitely is. Great, just great. What do I do about that? Friends don’t let Lions fly drunk.

Keith. I have to talk to Keith.

I type in his pager code, and the relay system informs me that he’s shut the pager off. Damn it!

Now what do I do?

I drum my fingers on the console while trying to think up a plan. Desiree is the Yellow pilot for Team Three, so if an emergency does come up we’re covered. That’s a good thing. Even so, I wonder where Dunkirk is. I certainly hope he’s not getting himself in trouble somewhere…

“Okay, Lynne, where do you want these?” Caro nods at the fabric-wrapped trio of leather-bound books she’s carrying in her arms. I nod my head at a countertop nearby.

“Right over there, Caro, would you please?”

“Okay.” She sets the books down and immediately heads back for the steps leading down into the Archives. Caro is a petite little thing, but she can carry a weight many times larger than her size would indicate. She conjures up the image of a brown-haired, brown-eyed ant lugging its burden back to the nest. I smile to myself as I pull on my gloves and begin to unwrap the books.

“Beep-beep,” comes a familiar voice from behind me. I turn to see a pile of more plastic-wrapped books with Shannon’s legs underneath coming right at me. I step out of the way and let her struggle past with her armload. She plops the books on the counter beside Caro’s stack and puffs at her bangs.

“Round two,” she sighs. “How many of these do we have to bring up again?”

“This is the Classical Literature Series, Third Edition. There’s supposed to be forty-five volumes, and we have...” I do a quick count. “Twenty-six of them up here so far.”

Shannon feigns collapse, sagging against the counter and looking at me with exasperation in her blue eyes. “Refresh my memory for me. You’re doing this...why?”

“None of these books have been added to the main records yet. I have to write up the classification by genre, list a brief description of each, update the archives, and then put them back in the vault.”

“Ah.” She pushes a loose strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You know, if you did a little sweet-talking to a certain Yellow Lion pilot, I bet you could get him to lend a hand, and he’s got much more lifting capacity then I do.”

“No, really...you think?” I smirk at her. She sticks her tongue out and wrinkles her nose at me. “That would be nice, but Hunk’s probably busy. He’s got more important things to do than haul books around all day, you know.”

“What about Hunk?” Caro comes to the top of the stairs with a fresh armload of books. Shannon blinks at her.

“How does she do it?” She says with a shake of her head and heads back down the stairs. Caro watches her go, then she looks at me.

“What about Hunk?” She asks again, and I laugh. All three of us have a soft spot for the Big Guy, as we like to call him, but compared to Shannon and me Caro is one huge soft spot on legs. She’s absolutely, positively, head over heels in love with him, and sometimes it’s really funny to see how her logic goes straight out of the window where he’s concerned.

“Umm, we were just discussing the idea of getting him to help us carry some of the books, that’s all.”

“Oh.” She sets the books down and wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand. “But he’s probably busy, you know?”

“Mmm-hmm...that’s what I figured, or I would have asked him myself.”

The main door to the library slides open, and we both turn to look. Hunk’s back-up pilot (I don’t recall his name right off-hand), a big, brawny redhead with a big grin and a twinkle in his green eyes comes swaggering in with a thick paperback in his hands.

“Hullo there, lass!” He says in a cheerful but slurred tone. “I forgot I borrowed this repair manual, an’ I thought fit t’ bring it by, seein’ as how me wheels is fit t’ drive again.” He sets it down on the counter with a heavy slap that makes several of the patrons look up from their reading. I’m about to give him a lecture on library etiquette when I catch a whiff of the alcohol on his breath. It dawns on me quickly that he’s probably way too tipsy to appreciate anything I have to offer along the lines of proper behavior. Best to be polite and let him go away. I give him as pleasant a smile as I can manage.

“Right there is fine, thanks.”

“Aye.” He turns to go, and his gaze falls on Shannon as she comes through the doorway with more books. He walks over to her, picks up the one on the top of her stack, turning it over clumsily in his hands.

“These look kinda weighty for such a wee lass as yerself t’ be haulin’ around,” he says to her with a smile. “Want me t’ carry them for ye?”

Oh, no. The last thing in the world I need is to have a big, drunken oaf man-handling those precious works of Arusian literature.

“Put that down at once!” I snap at him. He blinks at me, glances down at the book in his meaty paws.

“What’s th’ big deal? It’s only a book.”

“It’s not ‘only a book’. It’s an original print of Lil Satria’s finest works, and it’s priceless!” I march up to him and thrust my hand out. He arches an eyebrow at me.

“If ye want me t’ put it down, ye’ll have t’ ask a bit kinder than that.”

My mouth falls open, and I snap it shut again. “What was that?”

“I didna mean no harm, an’ here ye are yellin’ at me like I’m a ruffian or somethin’. If ye donna apologize, I’m nae gonna put it back.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just told you? That book is irreplaceable, and you could damage it! Now put it down!”

He shakes his head at me. “Nope. I’m nae puttin’ it down till ye say ye’re sorry.”

Shannon throws me a helpless look. I glare up at him as I pause to regain my composure. He grins back at me.

“Take all th’ time ye need, lass. I can wait.”

“I’m sorry,” I huff at him finally. “Now will you please put the book down?”

His grin gets even wider. “I dunno, that didna sound too sincere t’ me. Would ye care t’ try again?”

I take a deep breath to calm myself. Count to ten, Lynne, count to ten...

“Excuse me, Mister...umm...”

“Fenton Fergus Dunkirk, that would be me. But ye can call me Dunkirk, or Dunny if it please ye.”

“Mister Dunkirk,” I begin in as pleasant a tone as I can manage. “I am attempting to classify several very rare and valuable books that Princess Allura herself has entrusted to my care, exactly like the one you’re holding in your hands. That particular book is over two hundred years old. If something should happen to it, it will be next to impossible to replace, and it might even cost me my job. Now will you please be kind to both me and my blood pressure and put it down?”

“I could do that, but ye still haven’t apologized t’ me for yellin’ in th’ first place. I’ll tell ye what, I’m feelin’ generous. Give me a kiss t’ make up for th’ apology, an’ we’ll call it even.”

I blink at him in disbelief. “You want a...?”

“Aye, a kiss, an th’ sooner ye pay up, th’ sooner I put th’ book down.” He grins and leans toward me. I take a half-step back and pout at him.

“You are drunk!”

“Aye lass, that I am. An’ Nanny has a backside so big that a robeast could choke on her knickers. But come mornin’, I’ll be sober. Now how about th’ kiss an’ makin’ up part?”

I hear a soft snicker on my left. Shannon is now standing beside Caro with a hand clapped over her mouth. I give her as disapproving a look as the one I aim at Dunkirk.

“You...you rogue! How dare you! You give me that book, and you give it to me right this minute!” I stomp my foot for emphasis.

He shakes his head at me and holds it behind his back instead. I charge at him and try to reach around him to get it. He holds it up over my head and well out of my reach, but I am now a woman scorned. I will not let this man win, especially not with Caro, Shannon and now some of the patrons watching. I grip the sleeve of his shirt and rise up on tiptoe to try and snag the arm that’s holding the book, but my goal is still well out of reach. I step back and study him briefly to ponder my next move.

“Ye know, I’m perfectly willin’ t’ negotiate th’ terms for th’ kiss,” he says with that arrogant grin of his still plastered on his face. “If ye donna want t’ give it to me out here in th’ open, we can find a nice, cozy spot t’ -”

Without warning, I rush at him and go right for his ribs, my fingers quickly rippling up along his sides toward his armpits. He yelps, almost drops the book and attempts to readjust his grip on it. But the alcohol in his blood isn’t working in his favor. He winds up tumbling backward, dropping the book as he goes, and I dive to catch it. I land on top of him as we hit the floor with a thump, my body slamming into him hard since I’m keeping both hands on the book to keep it safe instead of bracing my fall.

The impact knocks the wind out of him and he lies still, looking stunned. I push my glasses up from where they’ve bounced to the end of my nose, scoot off of him and stand up, waving the book triumphantly and placing it on the counter with satisfaction. Caro and Shannon applaud me quietly. Dunkirk remains where he fell, gasping for breath. I study him with concern.

“Are you all right?” I kneel down and place a hand on his shoulder. He gives me that roguish grin again and gets to his feet.

“I’m fine, lass. Just lost me wind for a bit, is all. Now, how about we get back t’ th’ subject o’ those kisses we were discussin’?”

I feel my jaw go slack again as I straighten up myself. “Kiss...es? Plural? Where do you get plural out of this?”

“Why, there’s th’ one ye owe me in place of apologizin’, an’ th’ one I need now for gettin’ knocked over, o’ course.” He holds up two fingers for me to see and wiggles them each in turn. “One, two.”

“Now you see here. I don’t owe you an apology kiss, and I certainly do not owe you an injury kiss. So get that out of your mind.”

He shakes his head at me. “I canna say I agree with ye, lass. All I did was pick up a book, an’ th’ next thing I know I’m being yelled at, accosted an’ knocked flat on me bum. I think I’d have an easier time in me Lion.”

I gawk at him for a second. “You...now you just listen here, Mister Fenton Fergus Dunkirk. You had no business teasing me over that book, and you certainly should know better than to carry on like this in the middle of a library in the first place. I’m sorry that you fell, but I will not apologize for trying to protect a priceless piece of literary work from potential abuse.”

“So that’s it, is it.” He looks over at the books, then back at me. “Then how about this - ye either give me th’ kisses ye owe me, or I’ll haul ye outside an’ toss ye in th’ moat.” He folds his arms, smiles at me and I feel my cheeks flare up as I clench my fists and stare him down.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He shrugs and grabs me by the waist in reply. The air leaves my lungs with a whuff as I get tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and then he turns and starts for the door. Caro and Shannon give looks of stunned surprise as I’m hauled away.

“Feel free to lend a hand whenever the inclination hits you,” I call to them sarcastically. They remain frozen in place, still blinking as the library door slides shut behind us. Dunkirk starts whistling to himself as he strolls through the hallway. I shift a little, catch half a gulp of air and kick my feet as I pound his back with my fists.

“Put me down, you barbarian!” I yell at him. He ignores my demand and keeps right on going. A guard in the corridor has paused in his patrol to gawk at us.

“Need any help, Ma’m?” he asks.

“No thanks. I have the situation entirely under control, thank you.” I give him a cheery little wave as I’m carried around a corner. I slap Dunkirk’s back again, hard as I can, and I get a gentle little pat on the seat of my skirt in return. He’s patronizing me. Now that really angers me, even more than the fondle does. I give a sigh and settle against his shoulder. It’s obvious that being physical isn’t going to work. Time to be devious.

He waves at the guards at the main gate, takes an immediate right just outside the castle proper and begins to stroll along the narrow strip of ground that surrounds it. Then he stops and puts me on my feet, grinning at me once more.

“We’re nearing’ th’ point o’ no rejection, lass. Now which is it gonna be?”

I gaze up at him and let a flood of tears spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. “How could you threaten me with a thing like this? You don’t even know if I can swim! You could toss me in that water, and I - I could sink like a stone.” I circle him halfway, bury my face in my hands and give the most heartfelt sobs I can muster. Almost immediately I hear a footfall as he turns toward me and then his hands rest on my shoulders. I smile inwardly as I realize that my repositioning has set us up so his back is facing the moat.

“Aww, see here, now. I was nae tryin’ t’ hurt ye. I was just havin’ a wee bit o’ fun. I’d nae hurt a hair on yer head, I swear it! Believe me when I tell ye that.”

I lower my hands and gaze up into his face, calling up a fresh round of tears. He looks so miserable that I almost want to drop the ruse and hug him instead. But he has this coming. Kiss him or get thrown into the moat - talk about nerve.

“I’m sorry, he says with sincerity in his expression. “I nae meant t’ frighten ye.”

I wipe at my wet cheeks. “I believe you. I forgive you.”

He gives me a sad little smile. “I thank ye from th’ bottom o’ me heart.”

“You’re welcome. I guess I can admit defeat, too. I’ll give you those kisses now.”

He shakes his head. “I’d much rather have them if ye were willin’, an’ I donna think ye are right about now.”

“No, I am. I really am, honest.” I tilt my face up toward his and close my eyes. “Go ahead.”

“All right, lass, ye’ve convinced me,” I hear him say, and then I feel his hands rest gently on my shoulders. The moment they do, I open my eyes, brace both hands on his chest and give a hefty shove. His eyes shoot wide as he topples backward, his arms flailing wildly in a vain attempt to recover his balance, then he hits the water with a mighty splash. I smile at the ripples on the surface of the water, dust off my hands, smooth down my skirt and head back inside the castle.

“Dude,” Galen says as he glances at the inset in the main display. “Five hundred channels and counting. Green Lion rocks.”

“Here’s the best part. You can set it all up as an indirect route point and get everything beamed to your private quarters.”

“No kidding. How?”

“We’ve got six separate high-bandwidth links to choose from - they’re meant to link with all four of the other Lions, plus the castle itself if need be. But Green Lion also has a setup meant to relay information to Black Lion first, and Black Lion has its own arrangement to send out simultaneous feeds to everyone else. That’s what we normally use, which means all those extra links are just sitting there. I don’t ever recall a time where I had to use them all at once.”

Galen turns thoughtful. “It’s probably a redundancy feature. I noticed that we’ve also got five separate subspace scanner arrays, and standard deep space craft are only required to have two. Or is that for simultaneous feeds to the Lions as well?”

“Nope. All the Lions have them, though the others only have three. I think it has to do with the fact that this Lion does most of the work as far as planetary, subspace and deep space data scanning is concerned. We can even do some low-level topographic surveys, but Yellow Lion is a lot better for that, of course.”

“I bet Blue Lion has a kick-ass sonar arrangement.”

“Kinda. Blue and Yellow Lion come out about even for that.”

A flashing green light to my left catches my attention and Galen’s too. He starts to reach for the button that will activate the link, but I shake my head at him.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s a personal setup of mine.”

“For what?”

“For the next step in my evil plan.”

He arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a tracker that lets me know when Shannon is on-line in the castle network.” I watch the lines of text that fill up the auxiliary screen. Galen studies them as well.

“This says she’s making adjustments to...ID buffers? What ID buffers?”

“She’s probably programming the new uniforms into the shuttle access system right now.”

“But it looks like all this is doing is logging keystrokes.”

“That’s because it is. I need to know exactly what commands she’s using before I start on my program.”

“Oh yeah, I guess you would….so tell me, Evil Pidge, how will you change the setup so Lance gets the Princess’s gown?”

“It’s very simple, my friend, once you know how the system works. You know how the weapons in the Lions are called up, right? You pick something like, say, the Lion Knife. The computer chooses the special pattern file that details the knife’s configuration. Then the energy matrix supplies the power needed to build a wireframe according to that pattern, plus what’s needed to fill it out, and poof - there’s your Lion Knife. You with me so far?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the access silo works the same way, with a couple of exceptions. Since many different people use the silos, the computer has to generate fresh information for each person, unlike the weapons information in the Lions, which is always fixed. But otherwise the principle is the same.”

“Okay, but how does it do that? How does the computer get the information you’re talking about?”

“Each access silo is lined from top to bottom with sensor equipment. The cross bar that you hang from when you swing down the shaft calculates weight and mass as you go. The details are compiled into a seventy-two digit piece of code called an ID signature.

“The signature is broken up into three parts - a personal ID, a clothing ID, and a uniform ID, each of them twenty-four bits long. The personal ID contains information on the person being scanned, in the form of body dimensions - height, weight, and so on. The clothing ID is pretty self-explanatory. It’s a variable that contains information on the type of clothing being worn. The third twenty-four bits of the uniform ID are also self-explanatory.

“When a person heading for one of the Lions jumps into an access silo, the computer scans that individual as they swing down the shaft and creates their ID signature. It then sends the information down to the shuttle to be processed. In the shuttle itself, the information for the personal ID is placed into a fixed buffer, while the uniform ID gets placed into a swapping buffer. The clothing ID also gets placed into a swapping buffer, but at this point it’s set at zero, because there’s no information in it as of yet.

“To change the clothes into a uniform, the matrix generator in the shuttle turns the clothing into a wire frame, then the computer reverse engineers the information into a clothing ID that gets placed in the swapping buffer. That ID is kept on hold. Then, to create the uniform, the matrix generator applies a new power grid to create a second wire frame, but in this case it draws from a combination of the information in both the personal ID and the uniform ID to create the final result.”

Galen ponders this for a minute. “So that means...when you go back to the shuttle, the clothes and the uniform get switched back again, right?”

“That’s exactly it. And once it’s done, the buffers are cleared, the system resets and the process is ready to start all over again.”

Galen turns thoughtful. “What, exactly, is Shannon doing to the program?”

“She’s changing the uniform ID code to support our new outfits, that’s all. The process stays the same.”

“You still haven’t explained how Lance will wind up in the dress, though.”

“It’s like this - the clothing ID can be manually switched. For example, someone other than Keith would wind up in his red jumpsuit if his clothing ID was placed in a different shuttle’s buffer. See what I mean?”

“I think so...yeah, I get it now. If the clothing ID for the Princess’s gown is placed in Lance’s shuttle - ”

“Poof - Lance is pretty in pink.”

Galen wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That is truly evil.”

“Yes, it most certainly is. But Lance has it coming. You know he does.”

“I dunno…”

“You know you want to help me out with this - it’s all in the name of discovery. You’ll learn tons of stuff about the access silo, among other things.”

“But - ” He frowns, but I can tell that he really does want to help. Galen likes to tinker as much as I do. He’s just not evil like I am. Evil Pidge. That is me, all over.

“Come on...it’ll be fun, trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. First chance we get, it’s down to the command center.” I shut the channel off, and we resume our mundane duties.

Man, I wonder where the heck Dunny got to. We’re supposed to...wait, what are we supposed to do? Something with Yellow Lion, I think. I guess...yeah. That’s it. We gotta...fix it? Do we gotta fix it? Is it broken? I don’t remember it being broken. When did I break it? Maybe the princess broke it. She might still be mad at me for beating her at free-for-all yesterday. Gee, I hope not.

Where the heck is Dunny at?

As I near the end of the hall, Caroline comes around the corner toward me. She stops and blinks at me with those big brown eyes of hers. I love those eyes. Makes me think of that song by Van what’s-his-name. I grin at her.

“Heya, Li’l Gal. What’cha up to?”

“Oh, Hunk...hi.” Her lips curve up into a sweet little smile. “I was trying to find Dunkirk. Have you seen him?”

“Nope, and hey - I’m looking for him too. What’cha need him for? You need him to fix something? I can fix stuff too, ya know.”

“I know,” she says with that smile again. “Actually it’s not that I need him, but - hethreatenedtocarryLynneoutsideandthrowherintothemoatifshedidn’tkisshim,butsherefusedandhetossedheroverhisshoulderandcarriedheroutofthelibrary!”

“Wha…? Wait a minute - do that again, but slower.”

She takes a deep breath. “He threatened to carry Lynne outside and throw her into the moat if she didn’t kiss him, but she refused and he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out of the library!”

“Hey, that ain’t right!” I make a face. “But he’s drunk, see. He had a few too many when we were up in his room waitin’ for Chief Two to get through at Castle Control. Don’t you worry, though - I’ll set him straight soon as I find - hey, what’cha smiling at?”

She tilts her head at me and gets a sparkle in those pretty brown eyes. “You look like you’ve had a few yourself. Who gets to straighten you out, pray tell?”

I scratch my head. “Dunno. You wanna give it a try, maybe?” I give her a wink. Her cheeks get real pink all of a sudden.

“Umm...I think we should go find Dunkirk.”

“Okay, Li’l Gal, let’s do that. Which way?”

She smirks at me. “You mean you don’t remember where the main entrance to the castle is?”

“Ahh...I’m just making sure you know where it is, so we don’t get lost or nothing.”

She giggles - cute giggle too - and starts down the hall. I follow after her. We round another corner and there’s Dunny - looking like someone tied him to a bumper and went four-wheeling with him. Caroline is just a surprised as I am. Her eyes are all big. I frown at my buddy for a moment.

“Dunny? What the heck happened to you?”

He wipes his bangs out of his eyes and frowns. “I was climbin’ outta th’ moat an’ th’ bank is nothin’ but mud where I was, that’s what. Where’d that little red-haired imp get to? Did either o’ ye see her?”

“You mean you didn’t toss her in the water after all?” Caro asks.

“No, she’s th’ one what did th’ tossin’ - shoved me into th’ drink an’ made off, so she did. An’ here I was, bein’ nice an’ not throwing her in, since she canna swim.”

“Lynne can swim,” Caro says. “Who told you she couldn’t?”

Dunkirk gawks at Caro. “What did ye just say...?”

“Lynne can swim,” she repeats. “She won first place in the hundred meter relay two years in a row when we were at the Academy.”

His jaw drops. “Why, that green-eyed she-devil! Actin’ like she wanted t’ give me a kiss an’ th’ next thing I know, I’m in th’ moat, watchin’ her depart. But aye, what a departure she’s got, t’ be sure.” He breaks into a big grin. “I bet she went right back t’ th’ library...an’ I’m gonna go pay her a visit.” He starts to walk around me, but I snag his arm.

“No ya don’t, Dunny. We gotta...ahh, shoot. We gotta do something important. Lemme think a minute here...”

“Ye mean flyin’ th’ Lion, don’t ye?”

“Yeah, that’s it - flying the Lion. And you need to get yourself cleaned up so we can get going. We’re already late.” I look at my watch. “Over an hour...geeze, we’re gonna get stood up against a wall and shot.”

“They canna shoot us, Hunk...Keith’ll have t’ go through th’ whole bleedin’ recruitment process all over again if that would happen. Ye think he really wants t’ do that?”

“Maybe not, but I don’t wanna push it. Now come on.” I look around at Caro. “I’ll see ya around, Li’l Gal...okay?”

“Okay...” She smiles and wiggles her fingers at me (awful darn cute, that is) and I drag Dunny down the hall. As we go, a familiar smell hits my nose. Nanny’s making her world famous cinnamon rolls again. Dunkirk pauses to sniff the air, looks at me.

“Might ye be thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Sure, but she knows how we like to sneak down there when she’s baking, and she’ll be waiting for us with a broom and an attitude.”

“Then we’ll just have t’ make sure we donna get caught, won’t we?”

I grin at him. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Okay. Almost two hours now, and still no sign of Hunk or Dunkirk. I pace back and forth at the edge of the platform as Shannon continues to work on her adjustments to the access silo program. She pauses in her work to look up at me.

“Something wrong, Dexter?”

“Yeah, kind of. I’m missing a couple of pilots.”

“Which two?”

“Hunk and Dunkirk.”

“Hmm...well, I don’t know about Hunk, but Dunkirk might still be outside by the moat or something.”

“The moat? Why would he be out there?”

“He was going to toss Lynne into it. Caro went looking for him and I would have gone as well, but my supervisor paged me and asked me to come down here to start the programming just as I left the library.”

“Wait. Did I just hear you right? Dunkirk was going to throw Lynne into the moat? Did he have a reason why?”

“Yes. He wanted a kiss - two, actually - and she wouldn’t give them to him.”

“So he threatened to throw her in the moat if she didn’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Was he drunk?”

She nods. “Yeppers.”

“Damn - I knew it! When did all this happen?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“You didn’t shut the system completely down, did you?”

“No, just the software for the silo and the shuttles. Everything else is still on-line.”

“Page the front gate for me while you’re there, will you?”

“Sure.”

After a moment I see a uniformed soldier on the main screen. He gives me a nod. “Captain Stiles...Castle Patrol here. Sergeant Calahan reporting.”

“Sergeant...I have a question for you. Have you seen any unusual activity going on outside within the last half hour?”

Laughter erupts off-screen, and the Sergeant turns his head to shush whoever it is. Then he looks back at me. “Yessir, I have. Lieutenant Dunkirk came this way, carrying a really nice-looking redhead on his shoulder. She didn’t appear to be in any distress and she wasn’t calling for help, so I didn’t feel obliged to intervene. The lieutenant went out by the side of the bridge, and I’m not exactly sure what went on, but she wound up shoving him in the moat. Then she came back inside. So did he, once he finally managed to get back out. Took him a couple of tries, though.”

The laughter starts again. The Sergeant shushes the offending party a second time and waits quietly for a moment before asking me if I need him further. I tell him no and dismiss him. He closes the channel. Shannon gives me a smile.

“I knew Lynne could take care of herself, even with someone like Dunkirk.” She closes the channel on our end.

“Maybe I should ask Lynne for some pointers, then,” I mutter to myself.

Shannon laughs and resumes her work. I resume pacing, waiting for my wayward Yellow Team to arrive.

“Tasia, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Tell the truth.”

“You know what, Lance? You got nerve. The way you fly this Lion every day, trying to give Keith gray hair, and you’re complaining about me. All I’m doing is putting my little kitty cat through its paces. Deal with it.”

“Here we go again with this ‘your Lion’ bit. You know who the man is where that’s concerned.”

She casts her gaze around the cockpit. “What man? Where?”

“Ooh, funny gal. How’d you like to put all that money where your mouth is? Meet me at the simulator room, and we’ll deathmatch - both of us can use the Red Lion program at the same time, and we’ll just see who the better pilot is.”

“You got it, baby. I will see you there, guaranteed.”

A flashing light on the console announces a call coming in from Blue Lion. Tasia glances around at me. “Answer that, will you dear?”

“Do I look like a secretary to you?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?”

I give her a stern look and flick the switch open. Allura appears on one of the auxiliary screens. She looks like she’s been pondering something deep.

“Hey, princess. How’s it going? Did Alan wreck yet?”

Allura blinks at me. “No...should he have?”

“If he flies anything like Tasia does, I’d make that a yes.”

“What’s wrong with Tasia’s flying?”

“Nothing that an overdose of caffeine, chocolate and too much time on a game box couldn’t explain.”

“But Lance...every maneuver she uses is based on one of yours. She’s gone over all your flight archives to supplement her studies. She asked for access to those files a long time ago, back while she was still in training, to analyze your personal technique.”

“What?” I blink at Tasia. She gives me a smug look. I purse my lips and look back at Allura. “Umm...”

Allura giggles, and I hear Alan laughing in the background. I rub at my chin for a moment and sigh. “Touché, Mademoiselle,” I mutter aloud.

“Two for two.” Tasia makes a mark in the air with a gloved fingertip. Allura swallows back another round of giggles and composes herself.

“Lance, seriously...I need your personal input on something. I want to talk with you when we all get back to the castle.”

“Sure, princess...no problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” She closes the channel. I look at Tasia and she beams back at me.

“You wanna piece of candy, baby?” She says. “It’ll help you get rid of that nasty old foot-like taste in your mouth.”

I point a finger at her. “I am going to own you in that simulator battle. Count on it.”

“Yeah, right. You just better hope Cap’n Keithie’s jumpsuit is waterproof so he can handle all that crying you’re gonna do on his shoulder when I’m through with you.”

“We’ll see, my dear, we’ll soon see.” I settle back, fold my arms, and take careful note of every move she makes from this point on. She really does handle things in a way that’s very, very similar to mine. That means I should be able to predict everything she’ll throw at me. Ha. You are mine, lionbabe.

Hmm. Come to think of it, I wonder if Keith’s jumpsuit actually is waterproof. Never really thought of that before...

“Can I ask you a question, Dunny? It’s kinda personal, though.” I pop the last piece of roll into my mouth. Mmmm. Tastes just like Mom used to make, definitely.

“Aye, go ahead.”

“Okay...so like...if you’re a Scot, how come ya got a last name like Dunkirk? That’s German, ain’t it?”

“Aye. I’m adopted. Plain and simple.” He picks up a fresh roll and takes a bite. “Me step-dad tried awful hard t’ help me find out where I actually came from, but it’s still a mystery. I’m sure I shoulda been a MacDougal, but I canna prove it.”

“I see.”

He finishes the roll and licks at his fingers. “We were supposed t’ do something’ today, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, but damned if I can remember what it was…” I scratch at my head. Dunkirk pauses in thought.

“Were we gonna fix somethin’?”

“I think we did already. Your SUV was stalling on idle and we cleaned up the PCV valve, remember?”

“Aye, but…” He rubs his chin. “There was something else, I’m sure o’ it. Let me think on this a minute…”

“You think. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake ye up if I remember.”

“You do that.” I lean back on the couch and close my eyes. Did I have the Rob Roy before or after the toast to the princess? I can’t remember…

I can’t get over how quiet this office is. I can hear myself breathing, for crying out loud.

I guess the sound stands out so sharply since I’m used to all the background noise from the machinery in Castle Control. It’ll take some time before I can adjust to this change in environment. But with Dexter and Nola helping to share the workload from this point on, it looks like I’ll have plenty of time to get used to the silence around here.

A sharp rap sounds on the door, then it slides open and Lila Dorane, the Head Librarian, storms into the room. She looks really angry about something as she comes to a halt in front of my desk.

“Captain Keith?” She says with a politeness that seems a little forced. “May I have a word with you, please?”

“Of course, Ma’m. How may I help you?”

“It just so happens that one of your new pilots made a spectacle of himself in the library proper today and accosted my new assistant as she was in the process of updating the archives. She was apparently able to resolve the matter on her own and she chose not to file a personal complaint, but I thought it should be brought to your attention regardless. I think you ought to give the young man in question a lecture on manners.”

“I see. Who was the one responsible?”

Before she can answer, the door slides open again and Nanny charges in, her face a healthy shade of red. She comes right up to the desk and slaps both of her hands down on it, making me jump in my seat. I swear sometimes this woman scares me more than that robeast duo we had to tackle on planet Nimon.

“A whole tray of my fresh cinnamon rolls,” she blurts. “A whole tray! Three dozen of them! Missing! What are you going to do about it, young man?”

So much for my quiet office...

“Umm...can you hang on for just a second, Nanny? Mrs. Dorane was here ahead of you.”

“Humph,” she grunts and steps back, folding her arms and scowling. Mrs. Dorane resumes her report, describing the offender in question. It sounds like Dunkirk she’s referring to, because he’s the only big, muscle-bound redhead on Dexter’s team. Nanny’s face lights up in recognition.

“That’s him!” She exclaims. “That’s the scoundrel that helped Hunk make off with my cinnamon rolls! Three dozen of them, I might add.”

“Yes, Nanny, you already mentioned that.”

“What are you planning to do about it?” She demands, staring me down. The librarian glances at her, then fixes her gaze on me as well. I fidget in my seat a little.

“I...I’m going to go look for him right now. It’s almost lunch time, so I imagine I’ll find both him and Hunk in the cafeteria. If you ladies will please excuse me...” I rise from the desk. They both seem satisfied as we all leave the office. Mrs. Dorane excuses herself and heads back for the library. Nanny turns on me immediately, shaking her finger in my general direction as she speaks.

“Those rolls are probably long gone by now, but you tell that ruffian that if I ever catch him in my kitchen again, I’ll tenderize his backside for him - I don’t care how big he is! You tell him that!” She pokes me in the chest for emphasis, and it feels like her finger has punched straight through my breastbone. Then she turns on her heel and storms down the hall. I rub at the sore spot on my chest as I head for the cafeteria.

“Your Highness? I beg your pardon. Go ahead of me, please.” The guard smiles and steps out of the way, but I shake my head at him. He insists several times and I refuse him several times. He finally gets the hint and goes on his way. I look around at Alan and sigh. He arches an eyebrow at me.

“You’re surprised because...?”

“Oh, all I wanted was to make sure I had the opportunity to talk to Lance. I didn’t realize that taking a meal in the cafeteria was going to be so complicated.”

“Not like you’re the Princess of Arus or anything...” He smirks and picks up a tray. I pout at him and take a tray of my own.

“You’re from a noble family yourself, Alan. Don’t you ever have this sort of problem from time to time?”

“Actually, no. I try to keep as low a profile as possible. As a matter of fact, Dexter didn’t even know who I was until he got the team evaluation at the start of our competition for the back-up slot.”

“But surely someone has made the connection by now. Your family owns several major businesses. The pharmaceutical company alone should give you away.”

He smiles a little. “That’s ‘Zruppek’ with a capital ‘Z’, though. My name starts with a little ‘z’, so it’s different.” He picks up a container of milk and places it on his tray.

“Oh, stop.”

“I’m serious. I actually convinced some jock on the Academy football team that it was the truth. Of course, the fact that you’d find a higher IQ in a small box of gravel may have had something to do with my success.”

That makes me laugh. “You’re silly.”

He gives me a sideways look. “Is that a royal declaration?”

“I may have to make it so, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, what’s this?” Lance and Tasia come up behind us and Lance reaches around Alan to get an orange. “The princess is slumming?”

“Not until now,” Alan observes dryly, then he smiles ever so slightly. Lance blinks at him, Tasia arches an eyebrow. Lance drops the orange onto his tray.

“Go jump in the moat, Alan,” he replies cheerfully. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to say something much worse, but he must be holding off for my sake.

“Just kidding, Lance. I actually meant that in the nicest sort of way,” Alan says.

“Ignore him, Lance,” Tasia says. “He busts on me all the time too. Must be a Blue Lion thing.”

I blink at Tasia. “Excuse me?”

“I meant that in the nicest sort of way,” she replies with a pointed smirk as she reaches for a salad.

“Fire and water,” Alan says to me. “Opposing elements, different attitudes.” He looks at Lance and Tasia. “Right?”

Lance glances at Tasia. She shrugs in return.

“Sure,” Lance replies.

“Right,” Tasia says, then she blinks. “Gee, that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on all day.”

“That’s so touching,” Lance replies with mock emotion in his voice. “I may just cry.”

“Save it for when I kick your butt in deathmatch, lionboy.”

“And when you wake up from that dream, you can look at Dexter and tell him you ate too much pizza before you went to bed.”

“Hey, it’s the princess!” I hear from further on down the line. I turn to see an entire row of heads turned to gawk at me. Even the cook on the other side of the counter has frozen in place with a piece of fried chicken still hovering over my plate. Alan grins at me. So does Lance. Tasia nudges Lance with her tray, then she turns to address the cook.

“Yo, mister. You wanna give the princess her food? She can’t rule the planet on an empty stomach.”

The chicken falls onto my plate then and the cook reaches for another piece to place beside it. I shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Save it for when Hunk comes through,” Lance quips.

“You’re forgetting Dunkirk,” Alan says. “He’s got a stomach at least as bottomless as Hunk’s is.”

“I dunno about that. Hunk is a vacuum cleaner with teeth. I figure we could do without Voltron altogether if we just place a really large picnic basket behind every robeast we come up against.”

I frown at him. “Lance...”

“We could put that to the test, you know,” Alan replies. “How about we set them up in an eating contest and place bets?”

I wrinkle my nose at Alan. “Alan...”

“Okay. I’ll bet a thousand credits on the big, stupid one.”

“Lance...”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Alan...! That’s not nice, you two. They’re both big men, so it only stands to reason that they would have big appetites.”

Lance looks at Alan. “She wouldn’t happen to be a member of the Kindness to Dumb Animals Society, would she?”

“Actually, I believe she’s the president.”

“Thought so.”

“You two are so mean.” I pick up my tray and pause to look for a table to sit at. Tasia comes up behind me.

“You know if you walk up to any table in this room, everyone will stand up at once to offer you their seat.”

“That’s why we should go somewhere with plenty of room so Her Highness doesn’t have to put anyone in a panic,” Alan says.

“I know,” Tasia replies. “I just wanted to see her do it ‘cause it would be funny. And I can’t wait till Cap’n Keithie comes diddly-bopping in here and catches sight of her. That’s going to be some real fun in itself.”

“Tasia, why would it matter to Keith where I eat?”

Tasia smiles. “Let’s just say he might be a teensy little bit surprised to see you out here mingling with the more common folk.”

“Oh? Well, actually, Keith is the last person I want to see right now. I need to ask Lance something, and it involves him. Let’s sit way, way over there.” I nod toward a booth in the far corner of the room and head that way. The rest of them follow.

All right, where’s Dexter? A tall blonde in a blue T-shirt with a large yellow smiley face on it shouldn’t be hard to locate.

I cast a quick look around the area. Sure enough, I find him seated at a table with his back to the wall, quietly surveying the cafeteria in between bites of a sandwich. Good to see he’s chewing on that instead of his fingernail. I walk over and pull up a chair directly opposite him. He acknowledges me with a quick dip of his head.

“Captain-Captain,” he says quietly. “Having a good day off so far?”

“Sort of...how are things going with the Lion training?”

“Looking good across the board, almost.” He sets his sandwich aside. “I’m having a little bit of trouble with the Yellow team, though.”

“Do tell. I take it Nanny and the Head Librarian talked with you too?”

“Nanny and the librarian? No, I didn’t get any reports from them, not yet. But I know Lynne works at the library, so you must be talking about the incident from this morning, right? I did get some feedback about that. What‘s the problem with Nanny?”

“She filed a complaint concerning the theft of her cinnamon rolls earlier today. Three dozen of them, to be precise.”

“That was Dunkirk too?”

“Yes, but this was a joint venture. Hunk was involved as well.”

He gives a heavy sigh. “I think I have stress.”

“I always do. It comes with the territory. My question to you is what you’re planning to do about it. The Royal Librarian said that Lynne wasn’t going to file a complaint, but she did think that some sort of discipline was in order. I tend to agree.”

Dexter ponders my remark for a long time in silence. This is actually one of his biggest tests, for a number of reasons. He has to discipline not only a member of his own team, but one of mine as well and he has to think up a good punishment that will stick. And whatever he decides now will set the tone for any and all future calls for punishment whenever they may be needed. Not an easy task, especially with me sitting here staring him down.

“All right,” he says finally, “how about I put them both at Nanny’s mercy for the rest of the day - washing the dishes, cleaning up and so forth. And they won’t be allowed to leave until she’s completely satisfied with their work.”

I blink at him. Here I was, thinking of the good old toothbrushes to clean the locker room bit, but his idea is much, much worse. I can just see Nanny standing over them both, slapping a rolling pin in her palm and looking grim. I almost feel bad for the schmucks now.

“Not bad, but aren’t you forgetting something? Dunkirk is supposed to get his flight time in today.”

“I know that, and he can get it done tomorrow instead. All day tomorrow. He’ll pull duty for all the other Lions plus himself. That way I make sure he gets his share of hands-on training.”

“Good call, Dexter. Good call. I approve.”

He smiles at me. “Thanks. By the way, why is the princess eating lunch in the cafeteria?”

“What?”

Dexter points out a booth at the far side of the room, partly concealed by the tray dispenser at the beginning of the lunch line. I spot Tasia talking with Lance, who is seated opposite her, then she leans back in her seat and I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure in pink seated beside her. She’s laughing about something that makes Lance turn and pelt someone I can’t see with a piece of orange rind. I look back at Dexter.

“When did she get here?”

“She was already here when I arrived, and that was about twenty minutes ago.”

“Did you talk to her at all?”

“No. I was busy keeping an eye out for Hunk and Dunkirk. I thought if I found them anywhere, it would be here. They haven’t shown up yet, though.”

“Keep looking. I’ll see what’s up with the Princess.” I get up from my seat and cross the room.

“But have you ever heard him speak those three words specifically within your presence, Lance?” Allura leans toward me and gets this mega-serious look in her baby blues. I purse my lips and roll my eyes, trying to see if I can recall him saying it - ‘I love Allura’. No memory comes to mind.

“Okay, so I’ve never actually heard him say it out loud. But some actions speak louder than words. Don’t you think risking his neck to pluck a very special bouquet of flowers from the side of a cliff to give to you on his own birthday constitutes a really earnest liking, at least?”

Allura looks surprised. “He did? When did he do that?”

“That time that Merla sent him a bottle of poison, but we didn’t realize what it was, and you were all jealous because you thought he had a secret admirer.” I give her a sly grin. “Now there’s another big question. Do you love Keith, and have you ever spoken those three words within his presence?”

All eyes turn to her. Allura blinks, blushes and shrinks back against her seat.

“How did I become the topic of this discussion all of a sudden? We’re not debating that, we’re debating whether or not Keith loves me.”

“Keith what?” Comes a voice to my right. We look around to find the subject of dispute standing by the table with his eyebrow arched. Allura looks up at him and her mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. She picks up her napkin and begins to fiddle with it. Alan glances at me. I look at Tasia. Tasia taps a finger on the table a few times, then her expression brightens.

“We were just wondering if your jumpsuit was waterproof, Cap’n Keithie,” she says with a big smile.

“Yeah,” I say to him. “And no time like the present to find out.” I grab the glass of ice water resting on Alan’s tray, stand up and pour the contents down the front of his shirt. He gives a yelp and hops a few steps backward.

“Lance, what the hell...?” He demands. I ignore the remark and take hold of his shirtfront. The water has soaked into the fabric completely. I look around at Tasia.

“Nope, not waterproof.” I let go of him. “Sorry, Cap’n.”

The expression on his face is a mixture of shock and outrage. He looks down at his soggy top, then he looks up at me once more.

“Waterproof…?”

“She asked the question.” I point at Tasia. “I was just being an inquiring mind because I was kind of curious myself.”

“I see,” he replies in a very soft tone and then his eyes meet mine with a promise in them that I’m going to have a real workout at sparring practice tomorrow morning. He excuses himself and walks away. Allura watches him go with a hand pressed to her mouth, then she looks at me.

“What? It got rid of him, didn’t it?” I watch Keith’s retreating back for a moment before I resume my seat and hand Alan his empty glass. He takes it with a frown. “Now, then, back to our discussion. If you’re looking for a way to get Keith to prove his love for you by making him do something that requires him to go against the norm, I would suggest that you try poetry. He’s really good at it, but he hates to do it nowadays because he doesn’t want to seem soft.”

“Where’d he get that idea?” Tasia says. “The Samurai of Japan wrote poetry, even painted and did other artistic things. And you can’t deny that Samurai could kick some major butt.”

“True. But when we were kids this one bully snatched his notebook, saw that there was poetry in it and made a lot of fun of him in front of this big group of kids. After he knocked the bully flat and took his notebook back he never put pen to paper again.”

Allura rests her chin in her hands. “That’s too bad. What was it like? Did you ever get to read anything that he wrote?”

“Only once, and that was because he accidentally left the notebook out where I could get to it. It was this really depressing poem, called ’The Unloved’. I recall reading it and thinking ’Geeze, this guy needs a girlfriend or something!’”

“How did it go? Do you remember any of it?”

“Not really. But he kept all of his old writings, and I bet I could find them with a little determination. Want me to?”

“No. Don’t invade his privacy, even for my sake.” She straightens up. “All right, I think I know what I can do to put Keith to the test. I’ll have a poetry contest - everyone in the castle can enter, and there will be a nice prize, and we can see if he enters. How‘s that? He’d try it if he thought that would make me happy, don’t you think?”

I shake my head at her. “Not unless you make it clear that you really, really enjoy poetry.”

“I do really, really enjoy poetry. I won’t have to make that part up.”

“You‘d also have to have the option of the prize going to a charity.”

“I can do that,” she replies. “So…do you think it will work, Lance?”

I shrug at her. “All I can say is a definite ‘maybe’.”

Allura wrinkles her nose. “Oh, pooh. What good are you, then?”

“I’ve been asking that question since the day I first arrived here,” Alan quips.

I give Alan the evil eye. He just smirks in reply.

Note to self: Hurt Alan at the next available opportunity.

Tasia smiles. “Just imagine, Cap’n Keithie writing poetry. That’ll be cool.”

“If he actually does, you mean. Remember, I did say ‘maybe’.”

“Guess we’ll just have to see then,” Tasia replies.

“Yep, guess we will.”

“Should be interesting all around,” Alan muses.

“And remember, this is our little secret,” Allura says. “No telling anyone else.” She looks around at the rest of us. “Are we done with lunch? Can we go now?”

The agreement is universal. We leave the booth, drop off the trays and head for the exit.

Okay…so why did Lance just dump a full glass of water all over Keith? That’s a bit unusual, even for Lance.

I keep my attention on him and his company as Keith storms out of the cafeteria. As soon as Keith is a fair distance away - out of earshot is my guess - Lance sits back down and a discussion resumes. I move my position a few chairs to the right so I can get a clear look at everyone.

Princess Allura seems quite intent on whatever she’s talking about. But Tasia’s expression isn’t overly serious, which gives me the impression that the subject at hand is important but not urgent. I guess I’m not needed. Time for Dexter to go find his missing Yellow Lions.

I leave the cafeteria and mull over the details I have so far as I walk down the hall. They’re drunk, they’ve stolen a tray of Nanny’s cinnamon rolls and they didn’t show up for lunch. As I consider the places where they could be hiding at, my pager goes off. Everyone else is back at the Command Center, waiting to return to the Lions. I head back and send them on their way. With that done, the Yellow Lion hunt can resume in earnest.

I call up the security camera set up over the kitchen door and review the images covering the span of from just after this morning’s meeting to right before lunch. Sure enough, the perps in question are slinking out of the kitchen area with a tray of rolls about half an hour before they were supposed to show up here. I do a sequence follow with the security cameras to trace their route. They’ve chosen one of the sitting rooms in the southwest tower, and they haven’t left yet. Aha.

I page Coran and ask him to take the helm temporarily since Keith still has his pager shut off, damn him. I find Hunk and Dunkirk still in the room, both of them sound asleep. The tray that once held Nanny’s rolls has nothing left but some bits of sugar glaze and a few crumbs too small to feed Princess Allura’s mice. Empty ice cream tubs, potato chip bags and sandwich wraps are strewn all around the coffee table the empty tray is resting on. That explains how they could skip a visit to the cafeteria; I doubt they would have missed out otherwise, especially on fried chicken day.

I clear my throat, speak loudly. “Gentlemen…”

Hunk hears me first, starting awake and shaking his head a little as he runs a hand through his hair. He squints at me as he sits fully upright.

“Heya, Dex…” He makes a face. “Is it morning yet?”

“You could say that.” I tilt my head at him. “Did you forget your assignment for the day?”

“Assignment…?” Hunk rubs at the back of his head. “Then we really were supposed to do something today - hey, Dunny…!” He tugs at Dunkirk’s ankle. “Hey, get up, we got an assignment!”

“Eh…?” Dunkirk grumbles and rolls onto his side. Hunk tugs his ankle again.

“Dunny…hey. Hey, man - get up!”

“Eh?” Dunkirk sits up then, rubs his eyes, frowns at Hunk. Hunk points my way. Dunkirk follows the point of his finger and grins up at me.

“Aye, Captain, g’mornin’ t’ ye.”

“Morning?” I glance at my watch, frown at them both. “It’s afternoon, guys, and you’re a good six hours late with your assignment.”

Dunkirk frowns. “Assignment?”

“Told ya we had one,” Hunk says, then he looks up at me. “Hey - Dunny needs his flight time in! Ain’t that right?” He looks pleased with himself. “I remembered!”

I shake my head at them. “Not today, I’m afraid. You’ve got some punishment detail to take care of, both of you.” They regard me with expressions of mild surprise as I tick the offenses off on my fingers. “So far you two are collectively guilty of public drunkenness, desertion of duty, willful misconduct, theft of castle property and the consumption of same. Your punishment for these offenses has already been decided. Come along, boys, we’re all going to have a talk with Nanny.”

I make a come hither gesture with a sweep of my arm. They look completely baffled as they stumble to their feet to follow me out of the room.

“Hello, Coran.” I give him a smile as I approach the command platform. “I’ve taken care of business. You can go now.”

“You have? Oh, that’s good, Dexter. I have some things that need tending to right away.” He gets to his feet. “I need to check on the progress of Allura’s trip to the orphanage tomorrow. You shouldn’t be needing me any more today, yes?”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies and hurries off. I turn my attention to the console and hear footsteps approaching a few moments later. I look in that direction. Shannon is strolling into the Command Center, tapping a CD case lightly in her hand as she arrives.

“Hey, Shannon. What’s up?”

She waves the disk at me. “Final adjustments to the uniform program, that’s all.”

“Again? I thought that was already taken care of.”

“So did I.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I had the new configuration loaded and ready, and now it turns out that Coran wants the original uniforms to remain in the program as well. I have to put them all back where they were and add the new uniforms to the queue.”

“Why?”

“I was told that it would probably be good to keep the traditional uniforms on hand in case of ceremony or some such thing. Can I have the chair for a minute? I’ll have it all taken care of in a jiffy.”

“Sure.” I move aside and she plunks into the seat. I watch with interest as she shuts down the silo and gets to work.

“So you’re saying that the person sitting at the command console will have the option to select either the old uniforms or the new ones, am I right?”

“Sort of. The new uniforms will become the default from now on. The old ones will have to be chosen manually when needed. All I’m really doing is appending the new set to the end of the database and changing the position of the pointer. Easier that way.”

Her language is bordering on serious geek-speak. Galen would probably know exactly what she’s talking about, but I’m kind of lost. I simply nod my head in agreement.

“Of course. So tell me, how does the whole thing work? How will it know to give me the black uniform and Keith the red one, for instance?”

“Okay, the way the program handles things…to make a long story short, there’s a five-person setup for the original uniforms, with one being done according to the way Keith and the others have it arranged - Keith with red, Lance with blue, and so on. Then there’s a second set for your team and your setup, since it’s different from theirs. After that comes Princess Allura’s pink outfit, and there’s one extra uniform meant for trainees, though I don’t think it’s ever been used. I’ll be adding the new uniforms to the end of the list.”

“Ah, so that’s how Princess Allura gets the pink outfit whenever she uses a Lion…interesting. That implies that King Alfor must have considered the fact that she might be a pilot someday, if he made allocation for it in the program.”

“You know, Dexter, I believe you’re right. That’s an interesting thing to think about.” She studies the console and frowns. “Eww. The way this is arranged now, the position for Keith’s new uniform will be number thirteen.”

“Isn’t that an unlucky number in some circles?”

“Yes. I’ll just put a dummy record in between the old list and the new one so Keith is number fourteen and move the pointer up one place. That will take care of that.” She does some quick typing, presses the enter key, and settles back against the chair with satisfaction. “There. All done. Now I can get Lance to help me test it later on this evening when he gets back, and we’ll be good to go for tomorrow.” She retrieves her disk and abandons the chair.

“Won’t this change affect everyone that’s in the Lions right now?”

“Nope, not until the system resets. And that won’t happen until everyone gets back. We’re fine for now.”

“Okay…I just didn’t want anyone to come back naked or anything.”

“You mean like Tasia, maybe?” She teases.

“No. I wasn’t thinking of Tasia being naked.” I force the smile that creeps across my lips back into submission. “Honest.”

“Right.” She smirks and leaves the room. I settle back into the chair.

“Scrub, you ruffian! I want that floor so clean that the princess could eat off of it! You hear me? Scrub, scrub, scrub!” Nanny punctuates each command with a stomp of her foot on the floor. Dunkirk sighs heavily and pauses to wipe at his forehead before going back to hands and knees to work the brush in soapy circles. Nanny fixes a baleful eye on me and points a finger.

“As for you, I want every last one of those dishes to squeak when I rub my fingers on them, understand? Every one of them, or you’re going to start from the beginning and clean them up right!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And after that you will load up all of the ingredient hoppers so the cooks will have everything on hand for preparing dinner.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And then I have plenty of potatoes to be peeled and onions to be cut.”

“Onions? Aww, man...”

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Yes Ma’am’.”

“I’ll be right back in one minute. And don’t you dare let me catch you goofing off or I’ll take my rolling pin to the both of you! You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” we groan in unison. Nanny gives us a ferocious scowl and leaves the room. Dunkirk glances up at the clock.

“One hour an’ a half,” he whimpers. “We’ve only been here for one hour an’ a half. I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You? You ain’t the one who’s gonna be peeling onions.”

He holds up his soggy scrub brush. “I’ll trade ye.”

“Nahh, thanks.”

“Didna think so,” he grumbles.

“Make a note for future reference - let’s not piss Dexter off anymore. He’s got something to prove to Keith, you know, so he’s gonna go outta his way to do it.”

“Ye’ve got a point there. An’ I tell ye what, th’ very idea o’ havin’ t’ deal with the she-tank in an apron ever again is damn near enough t’ make me swear off o’ Scotch for th’ rest o’ me natural life.”

“Shh - here she comes.”

“Aye.” He goes back to scrubbing. I stick my nose into the dishes to avoid Nanny’s gaze as she comes through the door.

“What are you two doing? I don’t see any suds flying! You’re not working fast enough! Scrub, scrub, scrub!” She grabs her rolling pin from a counter top nearby and waves it at us in a threatening manner. I sigh inwardly and put some more effort into my washing so she’ll be happy (and put that rolling pin back down, hopefully).

This sure is going to be a long day.

“Castle Control to all Lions, Castle control to all Lions. Time to turn in, people. Bring ’em all back to base.”

“Aww, come on, Dexter”, Lance replies. “Tasia hasn’t given me any gray hairs yet.”

“I can fix that for you real quick, lionboy.”

“Tasia, not to be tormenting your senior pilot. And I need someone to run the command center while I take a turn in Black Lion, so who wants to volunteer?”

Pidge pipes up immediately. “I’ll do it, Dexter. Is Galen allowed to stick around and keep me company?”

“I suppose. Don’t see why not.”

“Cool. I’m on it. See you when I get there. Green Team out.”

He sounded awfully enthusiastic for some reason. Should I be worried about this?

Alan, Tasia, Lance and Allura arrive back at the command center, huddled together in a little group. I find it interesting, considering all the Blue Lion versus Red Lion banter that went on between them during their time in the air. But there was another exchange going on as well, via private Lion-to-Lion link. I have no idea what they were discussing. Maybe it’s none of my business. But I have to admit that I’m curious anyway. I study Tasia as she approaches the platform. She returns an inquisitive look my way.

“Wassup, Captain?”

“Interesting alliance you all have there. Care to elaborate on it?”

“Nope,” she replies cheerfully and walks past me. Alan and Lance are already gone. Allura is still lingering around, apparently to wait for Tasia to finish talking with me. As soon as Tasia gets close to where she’s standing, Allura snags her by the arm and they whisper their way out of the room. I look around at Pidge and Galen. Both of them give me cheesy grins.

“All right...” I say to no one in particular as I get to my feet. Pidge hops into the command chair the moment I’m out.

“Ready to go, Captain?”

“Ahh, yeah, yeah...all set.”

The platform lifts, I hop into the silo and rocket off to Black Lion. When I arrive I take a moment to just sit and admire the cockpit. Here it is, driver’s seat for the Defender of the Universe. I thought I’d be well over the excitement by the time it actually came to this, but the tingle in my stomach and the giddy rush of sensation in my head are very solid and real.

I set the key in place and a smile creeps across my lips as the console powers up. It’s kind of like starting the engine of a sixty-thousand pound sports car minus the leather bucket seats, plus plenty of heavy ordinance accessories thrown in for good measure.

Good to be the Captain.

Pidge gives me clearance and a sly little voice at the edge of my thoughts suggests that I hit all thrusters on full just as I clear the launch platform. I usually try to ignore that little voice, especially since it has a faultless track record for getting me into heaps and heaps of trouble. But this time I give in and kick full power to the turbojets. Thirty seconds of some really outrageous G-forces and one near blackout later, I make a mental note to never, ever perform that particular maneuver again. I send the little voice off to write sentences on my mental chalkboard: Black Lion is not a sports car, Black Lion is not a sports car...

With that matter settled, I get back to the business of flying in earnest, taking a route that none of the other Lions has covered yet.

“That’s it, dude,” Galen looks around at me. “Black Lion is airborne.”

“Cool. Keep an eye on the entrance, will you?” I set to work on accessing the uniform transfer program. The number of passwords and access checkpoints is almost enough to boggle my mind. Alfor definitely wanted to make sure that no one could get into this network by accident. But considering that someone (like me, heh) could do some potentially nasty stuff if they did get into the system, all the precautions make sense. That’s why I’ve never tried to do any hardcore low-level hacking into the castle network. I can only imagine what sort of defensive capabilities it has. I could be turned into a crispy little Pidge-fritter or something equally uncool.

“What are you doing, dude?” Galen comes up to look over my shoulder.

“Research for my program. I’m calling up the diagnostics. If there’s any details on how the buffers are controlled, I’ll probably find it there.”

“Why don’t you just check for a help file?”

I raise my head to stare at him. He gives me a slight shrug.

“Help files are for wimps,” I snap at him and return my attention to the console. After a moment I hear his footsteps retreat back down the platform. Help file. Humph. What’s the matter with him, anyway?

After a few moments of skimming through a directory, I locate a series of module files named UNIF0001 to UNIF9999 and do a remote query to locate the executable program that calls them up. That leads me backward to a file called UNIFDIAG. Bingo.

I type in a direct call to UNIFDIAG through the command line prompt. The screen clears, then it displays a long, vertical inset screen on the right and a smaller square on the left with a series of information fields arranged below it. A single field above the square prompts me to enter the name of a pilot. I type in Keith’s name and press enter. Immediately a 3D view of Keith’s uniform appears on the inset to the right and an image of his face in the square on the left. The fields below his picture display a series of numbers for his personal ID and his uniform ID. The clothing ID field is blank. I enter Lance’s name, Hunk’s, and mine all in turn, and the insets and information fields change accordingly. It all supports my theory, down to the letter. I am so good.

“Hey Galen, c’mere and check this out.”

“What?” He steps back up onto the platform and resumes his place over my right shoulder. “Whoa...what’s that?”

“This is a diagnostics program of some type. See, that’s my picture, my uniform and all the details are over here - my personal ID is in that field, see, and the uniform ID is there, and there’s no clothing ID because the clothes are currently on me and not in the system.”

“Wonder if you can arrow down through the fields. If you can select one, then you can probably alter the contents for it,” Galen says.

“Yeah, but changing stuff in diagnostics won’t do anything. I need to get into the actual uniform program itself. This is a lot of help, though. It shows me exactly how the information is broken down.” I exit the diagnostics and set to work on finding the actual uniform program. Galen sits on the edge of the console.

“You know, this seems like an awful lot of work just to put Lance in the princess’s gown.”

“But it will be worth it when all is said and done, my friend. Just you wait and see.”

He rolls his eyes and watches a little longer before he gets up and goes to keep watch again. He’s skeptical. He doubts me. But soon he will see my power. Soon all of them will. I will rule! Ha ha ha ha ha!

Whoa, man. Too much caffeine.

I shrug to myself and resume my search.

The view from the sitting room is always spectacular, especially at sunset. The clouds are glowing like floating embers against a backdrop of pastel blue that will gradually fade into the ebony velvet of the nighttime sky. I’ve always liked watching sunsets. I’ll be able to enjoy them more often now that I have both a back-up and reserve Captain to cover for me.

Soft footsteps approach from behind. I turn to see Allura standing in the doorway with a large book in her arms. She smiles as she walks up to stand beside me at the window.

“Isn’t that beautiful, Keith?” she nods toward the view outside as she holds the book close, almost seeming to cuddle it.

“Yes, I was thinking that myself.” I study the book in her arms for a moment. It smells of old leather and dry paper. “What’s that you have?”

“It’s a book of poetry. A collection of works by Lil Satria, a famous Arusian poet in her day. Lynne dug it up from storage to list in the library files. The book itself isn’t going to be made accessible to the general public, but she’ll be drafting up a reprint very soon.”

“She did that for her Academy project, didn’t she? Converting rare books to electronic storage for the masses.”

Allura nods. “She thought up a whole concept to go along with it as well - searching out lost pieces of literature and restoring them to public access. It will help to repair some of the damage Zarkon did on the cultural level. He had a habit of deliberately destroying libraries when he attacked our cities. So much was lost. But with this work under way, many of the surviving classics will be re-distributed once more.”

“That’s quite a task.”

“Yes, and she’s quite determined to see it through. She defended this particular book tooth and nail today. I’m glad she did.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” I glance at the book again. “So you like poetry, do you?”

“Oh, I love poetry. It’s like using a palette of word-colors to paint a wonderful picture of life.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“It’s true. And you know what? I’m going to see if I can’t encourage a poetic spirit to permeate the whole castle. I’m going to sponsor a poetry contest. I’ll have a monetary prize, and the person can have the option of keeping the money or making a donation to the charity of their choice. What do you think?”

“Sounds like a good idea, princess. I’m sure it’ll go over well.”

She smiles at me. “Will you enter?”

I make a face. “Not me. I’m no poet.”

“Are you sure you won’t at least give it a try...?”

“Sure, why not? How about this - ‘Roses are red, your Lion is blue...’”

She wrinkles her nose. “You’re teasing.”

“Not really. I just want you to see what you should expect, that’s all.”

She pauses in thought for a moment. “I wonder if Lance will enter the contest. I wonder what sort of poetry he would write.”

“I already know what it’ll be like. It’ll be about Shannon, and if you cut out all the lewd sexual references it’ll be one sentence long.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, pooh. He can’t be that bad.” Her gaze drifts off to the sunset. “There’s something that can inspire poetry. I’ve read some really well-written poems involving sunsets.”

“Maybe you’ll get a few among the entries.”

“I hope so.” She glances down at the book. “I have to get this back to where it’ll be safe. It’s too valuable to lose.” She excuses herself and hurries off. I turn to watch her go.

Too valuable to lose. I could say the exact same thing about you, Allura.

The sun finally sinks out of sight behind the mountains. I head back to my room to relax for a little bit before I turn in for the evening.

“Owww, me arms,” Dunkirk wails. “They feel like they’re gonna snap off at th’ shoulder.”

“Quit your bitchin’, Dunny. At least you didn’t spend three hours bawling your eyes out.”

“I offered t‘ trade places with ye, ye know.” He rubs at his arm and frowns. “I missed me time in Yellow Lion today because o’ this. I wonder what that’s gonna mean?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Dexter’s got something cooked up for us to do tomorrow.”

“I was afraid ye’d say that. Say, is th’ castle gift shop still open this time o’ night?”

I glance at my watch. “You got about fifteen minutes. What’cha gonna do, butter Nanny up with a thank-you card?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one there, that is. Tell ye what, I’ll buy th’ card if ye deliver it t’ her with a big, wet smooch on th’ lips.” He makes a kissy face at me and I swat his arm. He yelps and clutches at it, then he sticks his lip out so far that I can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, fine, go right ahead. Make fun o’ me sufferin’. What a friend ye are.”

“You ain’t foolin’ me. You’ll just head off to your room and have a couple of shots of painkiller, that’s all.”

“Aye, ye’ve got a point. An’ the sooner I kill th’ pain, th’ better. I’ll see ye at the meetin’ tomorrow mornin’.” He grits his teeth as he raises an arm to wave goodbye, then he saunters down the hall. I shake my head to myself as I watch him leave, then I head back to my room.

All right, that’s it. The last volume of the series has been officially added to the castle library list. I wonder if Princess Allura is going to bring back the poetry book she borrowed tonight. If she doesn’t, I’m not going to worry too much. I know she’ll take good care of it.

I lock up the office and head into the main lobby. It’s completely deserted. I make one last round to gather up the books that have been left lying on reading tables and place them on a cart so I can have a head start on replacing them tomorrow morning. The doors slide open as I cross to the other side of the room and Allura enters. She holds up the poetry book for me to see.

“Hello Lynne, sorry I’m late. Here’s the Satria Anthology.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” I set my armload of paperbacks on the cart and take the book from her hands. “Did you get to read much of it?”

“Well, I actually skimmed over a lot until I got to her later works. You know, from around the time of ‘Wandering Wind Song’ and up. Her early writings are just, well...a bit on the amateurish side.”

“True. This book was supposedly the one that separated her true fans from the regular poetry collectors in her day, because only a real Satria fan would want it. But ‘Thief of Hearts’ is a nice example from her early days, even if it does ramble on a bit much.”

“Thief of Hearts...is that the one that starts out ‘Once the wanderer, once the beggar, once the scholar, darling mine’?”

“Yes, that’s it. That fellow certainly got around, whoever he was.” I nod toward the office area. “I’m going to go lock this up in my office, because the storage vault is closed up and Mrs. Dorane is gone for the evening.”

“All right...can I come along? I need to ask you something.”

“Certainly, Your Highness.” I walk around the counter and she follows along with me.

“First things first,” she says as I unlock the door. “I’m going to visit the Hearthvale Orphanage tomorrow, and there’s going to be a special party - we’ll be celebrating all the children’s birthdays at once. Coran has made all the arrangements - a whole truckload of presents and too many balloons to count. And you should see the cake that Nanny’s been preparing. It’s two by four.”

“Feet?”

She shakes her head. “Meters. It has to be loaded onto a midrange truck by forklift.”

“Oh, my goodness!”

She smiles and shrugs. “Coran is making sure that no one misses out on the cake. But what I wanted to ask was, since you know a lot of children’s stories by heart, would you mind coming along to sit at the reading booth and do some storytelling?”

“I’d love to! That would be great. Did you happen to talk to Caro and Shannon? I know they’d lend a hand too if you asked.”

“I did see Caroline, and I got her involved with the puppet show. I was hoping to get Shannon to help with arts and crafts, but I don’t know if she’ll be available when we’re all ready to leave tomorrow morning. I think she has to finish up her work with the uniform program.”

“No, she’s all done with that. She did the last of the testing a couple of hours ago with Lance. I got an update when she stopped by on the way to her room. Lance kept asking her if he was going to wind up naked from a program glitch.”

“Oh, he is such a silly...do you like the new uniform design?”

“I like the way it clings, yes. Especially around the back. I can hardly wait to see Hunk strolling around in his.”

“Ooh, Lynne!” Allura giggles. “Shame on you! But they really are kind of close-fitting in places, aren’t they? I can see the dimples in Keith’s - ooh, never mind...”

I smile at her. “Now who’s being naughty?”

“He had his back to me, why shouldn’t I look at...at...” She leans close and lowers her voice, as if she’s afraid that someone will overhear. “Do you know that Tasia calls it a ‘tomato’?”

“Yes, that’s her special term for that particular part of the male anatomy.”

“Tasia is funny. I really like her.”

“Yeah, she’s something else. I bet she wouldn’t mind helping with the kids, either.”

“I think so too, but her team is going to be on official duty tomorrow. She’ll be on call for the day. I might be able to recruit some hands from my team, though. I know Hunk will volunteer because he just loves kids.”

I smile at her. “Will he be in uniform, by any chance?”

“Ooh, stop. Meet me at the vehicle bay at eight in the morning. We’ll discuss the details along the way, okay?”

“Okay...so you’re saying that he won’t be wearing the snug uniform after all.”

“Lynne...good evening, and stop thinking about tomatoes.” She turns and leaves the room. I lock the book up in the office safe. Outside in the lobby, the main door opens and shuts. Less than a minute later, it opens and shuts again. I reach the office door just in time to hear it open a third time and someone vanishes through the door before I can see who it is. Probably someone dropping off a book at the last minute. It happens.

I walk back into the lobby and take a quick look around the area. There aren’t any books to be seen. But there is a brown candy box with gold accents and a red ribbon, with a card and a rose lying on top of it, sitting on the counter. I walk over to the counter to take a closer look at the candy box.

It’s a full pound of Dalnarian truffles. They’re very, very good and very, very expensive, the finest chocolates on Arus. I move the rose aside and pick up the card to read it. It’s a typical piece of apology prose with ‘Sorry for the ruckus’ scribbled hastily at the bottom. It isn’t signed. It doesn’t have to be.

“Rogue,” I whisper to myself. “Incorrigible, unrepentant rogue.”

I lock up the library and carry the gifts back to my room.

To The New Arrivals: Day 2