THE NEW ARRIVALS - DAY TWO

Lance makes a gesture in my direction as I enter the meeting room with my attention still on the clipboard, but I can’t quite tell what it is. I raise my head to look at him. Hunk and Pidge break into big grins.

“He saw it,” Pidge says to Lance. “Told you he’s got eyes in the back of his head.”

Lance studies me with a puzzled look. I grin at him as I take my seat at the table. Being able to walk around with my head down and still get to where I’m going is one of my little claims to fame. No one except Sven and possibly Dexter have ever figured out how I do it. It has everything to do with making use of my peripheral vision to keep an eye out for obstacles as I go. I’ve tried to explain the technique to the rest of the group, but for some reason they’re convinced that it’s some sort of secret Keith power that I alone possess. I don’t argue the point mostly because it adds to my Imposing Captain image. After that talk yesterday with Coran, though, I’m not feeling quite so imposing anymore.

The guys sit quietly, waiting for me to start with the morning’s briefing. I glance at the empty chair on Lance’s right.

“Where’s the princess?” I ask aloud, the question aimed at no one in particular. Hunk pipes up first.

“She had some final details to take care of, something to do with the orphanage party,” He says. “She asked me to tell you she’d be late.”

“Okay, then let’s begin…” A movement further down the table catches my attention, and I look that way. Dexter is in the process of bringing his thumb to his mouth but Tasia grabs his hand, rests it flat on the table and puts her hand over it. Dexter pouts at her. She pouts back at him. He pulls his hand from underneath hers and tries again for his thumb. Tasia grabs his hand with both of hers this time. Dexter looks at her, looks down at their clasped hands, and waggles his eyebrows at her. Tasia makes a face at him and lets go. He smiles a little wider and immediately raises his hand to his mouth, but she slaps it before it can get there. He flinches and feigns great injury as he clutches it to himself.

Alan taps Tasia on the shoulder. She looks at him and he points in my direction. Tasia takes notice of my staring, taps Dexter on the shoulder and nods my way. Dexter looks at me, blinks and gets a big, silly grin. He promptly rests both hands on the table, interlacing his fingers. Good. At least I have him trained well.

“As I was about to say…this morning’s notes have a lot to do with the princess’s visit to the orphanage today. She’s requested volunteers to help her out, and so far she has Hunk, Shannon, Caroline and Lynne on her volunteers list. Anyone else who isn’t on duty today who wants to lend a hand will have to let me know by zero-six hundred so we can get a full head count before we leave, which will be at zero-eight hundred sharp. We’re going to skip morning practice and drills for that reason. Dexter, you’ve got the helm. Anyone have anything to bring up? No? Then that’s it for the meeting. Everyone is dismissed.”

Dexter and Tasia resume their little fight over control of Dexter’s hand. I shake my head to myself as I leave the room.

“Dexter, quit with the thumb-chewing already. We’re officially on duty now.”

“I’m not chewing. I have a hangnail.”

“Whatever. Are we ready to go?”

“I suppose.” I glance up as the team collects around me. Tasia and Alan stand on my right, Galen and Dunkirk gravitate to my left. There they go again. Why are they doing that? I rub at my chin and frown a little.

“Somethin’ wrong, Captain?” Dunkirk queries with an arched eyebrow.

“Maybe. Do any of you notice anything unusual in the immediate area?”

They all cast a quick look around, and I get an unanimous shake of heads.

“Look again. See Galen? He’s right here on my left. See Tasia? She’s over here on my right. And there’s Alan beside Tasia, and Dunny beside Galen. Do you see it now?”

Tasia makes a face at me, looks around the room. “See what, Dexter?”

“Never mind. Okay, here’s our agenda for the day. Alan, Tasia, Galen, all of you are on call for the rest of the day. Stick around the castle proper, but otherwise you’re free to do what you want. Mister Dunkirk here has generously volunteered to pull duty on everyone else’s behalf today, since he decided to skip his obligatory flight yesterday.”

Dunkirk’s jaw drops. “What? But I already did time yesterday - I was Brunhilda th’ Mad’s galley slave for eight whole hours!”

“That was for stealing her cinnamon rolls. This is punishment for neglecting your duty yesterday, plus all the other offenses you committed.”

“What, Dunny being offensive?” Alan arches an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Say it isn’t so.”

Dunkirk throws Alan a glare, then he turns to me. “Captain...have mercy! Me arms are stiff from all that scrubbin’! I can barely raise them!”

“Everyone was supposed to have their flight time in as of yesterday, Dunkirk. If you’d been in your Lion like the rest of the team instead of drinking, carousing, skirt-chasing and pastry-nabbing, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. After breakfast I expect you at the command center at zero-seven hundred. Got it?”

“Aye,” he replies miserably. “I got it.”

“All right then, team dismissed.”

Dunkirk’s shoulders slump as he heads for the exit. Galen dashes around him to reach the door first. Alan makes for the exit at a more leisurely pace. Tasia stays where she is and throws me an inquiring look.

“Drinking, carousing, skirt-chasing and pastry-nabbing? Sounds like the boy was busy.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll say he was. And that was all before lunch time.”

“Sounds like he knows how to have fun.”

“I have no problem with him having fun. The problem is all in the timing. He should save that for his off-duty time.”

She smirks at me. “Listen to you, acting like you’re Captain or something.”

“Well, sure I am, I - oh, cute, real cute.”

“You know that ain’t gonna cure him, right? He’s just gonna be a lot more careful about being caught.”

“I know, I know...but I can’t let him off the hook easy. Have to keep discipline among the ranks.”

“Am I getting disciplined for busting on Lance all day yesterday?”

“Nahh...I like it when you bust on Lance. Just don’t tell anybody.” I give her a wink. She rolls her eyes.

“You are about goofy.”

“No, I’m just being practical. Your comeback lines are always a whole lot better than anything I can think up.”

“I see. So, we doing the breakfast thing now? You can’t play Captain all day on an empty stomach.”

“Good point. Let’s be off, shall we?”

I buzz the door to Pidge’s room and get a ‘come in’ yelled to me through it. I enter the room and find him sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed with his laptop at hand. His fingers are flying so fast over the keyboard that it looks unreal.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I’m writing a piece of code to append onto the transfer subroutine. It’ll track the activity of a certain record, perform a swap of information into the active buffer under some very specific conditions, and then it’ll erase itself completely from the coding.” He grins. “It couldn’t be any more perfect.”

I remember being told in Programming class at the Academy that Pidge is credited with writing a full-blown satellite tracking program - over ten thousand lines of code with no more than fifteen bugs in it - in less than an hour. And here he is, tapping into that vast reserve of intelligence he has, to put a rival for the attention of the girl he likes in the princess’s pink gown. What a shame.

“But Shannon could see a change in the visual display if she happened to run diagnostics, and she could do that anytime while she’s still checking to make sure the program works.”

“I know that, and I already figured she’ll do a couple of spot checks. But she can’t do anything for most of the day today because she’ll be at the orphanage party. And when she checks later on, she still won’t find anything. Not the way I plan for this to work. See, the way I figure it, she’s probably going to append the new group of signature ID codes to the end of the old group and simply change the position of the pointer to start at the beginning of the new data. That’s the fastest way for her to do it, since she has to get it up and running as soon as possible. That means there’s going to be a whole set of twelve ID signatures for -”

“Twelve?”

“The five for my team, five for your team, plus the optional pink one for Princess Allura and then there’s an obsolete purple one that trainees are supposed to wear. That makes a total of twelve.”

“What about Team Three?”

“Their set-up is just a copy of yours, so the computer loads your configuration with their data. They don’t need separate uniform files since nothing really changes.”

“Yeah, okay...got it.”

“Now, add the new signatures, and that makes twenty-five total.”

“Twenty-five? Where do you get twenty-five?”

“The princess said she wants the blue uniform in the new set, remember? So, you have the old five for us, the old five you guys, plus the pink and purple. That’s twelve. Double that for the new uniforms, plus the optional blue for the princess, and that makes thirty-five.”

“Probably, assuming that they carry the pink and purple uniforms over. But you don’t know for sure.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure. Now pay attention. According to the new arrangement, record number thirteen should be Keith’s new uniform, and number fourteen is Lance’s. That’s the one I want. My mini-program will count its way down through all the records and keep track of the princess’s until she takes her shuttle. Once that happens, her clothing ID will get copied and stored in a special area. Then, the next time Lance goes to Red Lion the program will copy the clothing ID from the princess’s information, place it in swapping buffer fourteen, that buffer being Lance’s, and when Lance comes back to the castle he’ll be a charming rhapsody in pink.”

“But only if she goes though the silo in her dress. Otherwise, you’ll just get her jumpsuit.”

“I know. I’ll have to sweet-talk the princess into going through once in the gown so the program can snag the ID code. But I’ve already got a plan for that worked out. You’ll have to help me, of course. But if we work it right, no one will be the wiser.”

I shake my head at him. “That’s truly twisted, Pidge. Love has made you sick. I sure hope we don’t wind up regretting this.”

“We won’t. It’s going to be my best prank ever. Trust me.” He turns his attention to his laptop again. “I have to get the main body of the script finished so I can get some debug time in before I load it.”

“Are you going to breakfast at all?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. You go ahead without me.” He resumes his breakneck typing. I sigh inwardly and head for the door.

Keith is waiting for us to arrive when Dunkirk and I arrive at the Command Center. He abandons the chair with a salute as I get close. I return the salute as I take my seat. With that, it’s all official. I am now in charge.

Keith clears his throat a little. “Okay, Dexter, we’re off to the orphanage. You’ll be hearing from me around lunch time for a quick check-in.”

“Right, Captain-Captain.”

He steps off of the platform and heads for the entrance. Shannon and Lance are waiting for him at the entranceway. He gives me a last wave before he vanishes from sight. I look around at my sullen Yellow pilot.

“Hey Dunny, this means you’ll be the first one on the team to wear the new uniform in official status.”

Dunkirk rolls his eyes. “Aye, that’s absolutely bleedin’ incredible. I can hardly wait.”

“Fine, then. Don’t let me keep you any longer.” I raise the platform and he sets off. His bad mood lifts as soon as he gets the clearance to launch, though. Just as I thought. Looks like this is going to be an easy day.

***************

Keith is smiling as he comes even with us outside the Command Center. “That’s it, Lance - Dexter is in charge, and we’ll be on our way. Mission accomplished.” He goes to pass me by and I tap him on the arm. “Hey, Cap’n?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking....Dexter handled the Lion situation yesterday pretty well, but have you thought of a decent domestic scenario for him to deal with?”

“No, and unfortunately, there’s no real way to put him to the test in that area, unless we had a genuine planetary disaster on our hands.”

“I don’t think it has to be that extreme, does it?”

“No, but it does need to be something substantial if we’re going to see how he reacts under real pressure.”

“You mean like if it’s a one-thumbnail alarm or two,” Shannon quips. Lance smirks at her, then he looks at me.

“I have an idea - what if he got reports of a Hagar sighting? How do you suppose he’d react to that?”

Keith folds his arms and gives me a skeptical look. “And just how, pray tell, would we go about trying to pull that sort of thing off? Think we should just give Hagar a call and ask her to drop by to frighten the wits out of people for an afternoon?”

“No, but suppose we just dress up one of the castle maids and let her wander around for a few hours. Then Dexter’s bound to get reports, and you can see how well he handles investigating the situation.”

Shannon listens to our conversation attentively before she adds her own thoughts. “But you would have to limit the extent of the sightings, because there’s a good chance that you’d put a real scare into the general public if they thought Hagar was actually roaming around the countryside.”

Keith ponders it all for a moment. “We could have the impostor show up in a specific area that’s low in population density, and that would minimize the panic factor, but we also have to make sure enough people spot her so Dexter realizes that it’s more than just a couple of crank phone calls.”

“How about this, Cap’n. We have the sightings occur at a specific time and in a specific place, and make it look as if the old witch were headed toward the orphanage. Dexter should send Dunkirk in to investigate as soon as he thinks there’s a real problem. You can time how fast he sends Dunkirk by, or figure how serious he thinks the situation is by any extra people he sends along.”

“I think that’ll work, Lance. All we have to do now is find someone to play a fake Hagar. But we’ve only got about forty-five minutes before we need to get back to the group. You go float the plan by the Royal Tailor and see what she can do about it on the costuming end of things. Tell her I’ll give her a call once we arrive at the orphanage.”

“The Royal Tailor?”

“Yeah. She used to work at a theater before she got this job, and she knows all about costuming and make-up. I can guarantee you that her work is so good that once you see the results you’ll think it was Hagar herself.”

“Excuse me, Hagar...?” Modru stands at the threshold of my lab with his hands folded in front of him. “King Lotor has asked me to come and see if you have the plague of spiders and snakes ready to unleash on planet Adal.”

“Hold on, hold on.” I fling the drawers of my desk open, shove the papers and items to and fro. Blast it, it’s not in here!

Modru arches an eyebrow. “If you aren’t ready yet, I can go back and tell him that you need more time...”

I just bet you would, Modru. You’d love to go back and spend a good fifteen minutes of your time informing Lotor of my seeming failure and ongoing incompetence. Seems like that’s all you have to do with yourself these days. I swear if it weren’t for the fact that you keep things running so smoothly behind the scenes, I would have turned you into something small enough to feed to my cat a long time ago...curses, where in blazes is it? I can’t finish the spell without it.

“Hagar...?”

I straighten up and snap my head around to pin him with a glare. “What?”

“As I was saying...” He reaches up to run a hand over his snow-white hair, then he brushes a nervous fingertip along his goatee. “King Lotor is waiting to unleash his punishment on planet Adal for the defiance of the slaves there. He would like to begin with the plague as soon as possible, preferably before the week is out. I was sent to get word on your progress thus far.”

I wave my hand in the general direction of the observation deck. “The tanks are down there in the construction area. See for yourself.”

He does as bidden, crossing over to the large viewing windows and gazing into the area beyond. I immediately begin to search some nearby shelves. The channeling crystal, the channeling crystal, I cannot finish the multiplication process without my channeling crystal! Where could it be?

Modru looks over his shoulder at me. “Very impressive, Hagar. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many snakes collected in one place before.”

Care to take a very up close and personal look, Modru? I can certainly arrange it…

“Shall I tell the king that you’re nearly ready?”

“Yes, fine, whatever.” Just go, you preening, posturing lout, and get out of my sight!

“Very well. Good day to you, then.” He bows politely and leaves. Once the doors close behind him I begin to search in earnest, crawling on hands and knees to check and see if maybe it fell to the floor and rolled under something.

“Kitty,” I call over my shoulder. “Where is my k’alijih? Have you seen it?”

His only response is a yawn and a stretch. I sigh inwardly and resume searching.

My crystal ball. Why am I not using my crystal ball to locate it?

I scoot back from under the table and cross the room to pick it up and concentrate. An image appears almost instantly and I see that my crystal is lying on a piece of grassy earth not far from what looks to be the roots of an oak tree...on Arus? How in the world did it wind up on Arus? Oh, wait - I’m sure I had it with me that time I impersonated Allura’s sweet little auntie. It must have bounced out of my robes when I was running from that blasted Blue Lion. And I haven’t missed it until now, because I don’t need it for creating my robeasts. By all the dark powers. I shake my head in disbelief.

“Come along, kitty - we have to take a little trip.” I retrieve my staff from where it rests against the wall and head to the main ship’s bay for my private transport.

Allura is addressing the group gathered in the vehicle bay when Lance, Shannon and I arrive. She’s giving out the details of her proposed poetry contest. Lance glances my way and gets a really cheesy grin on his face. I shake my head at him and circle the crowd to inform Allura that I’m ready to do the head count. Everyone on the list is present except for Hunk. I take a quick look around and find him with his face pressed to the back window of the truck carrying the massive birthday cake. I tap him on the shoulder. He looks around to blink at me.

“Do you have any idea of what Nanny would do to you if you got into that cake?”

A look of genuine fear comes to his eyes and he suddenly yanks his hands back from where they were resting on the truck as if it were red hot.

“Sorry, Chief, just looking,” he mutters and then he hurries over to rejoin the group. Wow. I never thought I’d see something like that happen in a month of Sundays. I’m not sure if I should feel bad about this or not.

I shrug to myself and head for the car Allura is sitting in, make one final security check and slide into the front passenger seat. The driver nods to me and starts for the gate. Allura leans toward me with a smile.

“I made an official announcement for the poetry contest while you were down at the command center,” she says happily. “Everyone seemed to really like the idea.”

“I know. I came in on the tail end of your explanation. It seemed like everyone was pretty open to your suggestion.”

She nods and a sparkle comes to her eyes. “I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. I’m going to pick the judges once we come back tonight.”

I wonder why she’s so intent on sharing every detail of this poetry business with me. I bet Lance has been shooting his mouth off again. Not like that’s never happened before. Is she expecting me to make an entry? I hope not. I haven’t tried to write a poem since...well, I haven’t tried in years. But I can’t ignore that happy little gleam she gets in her eyes every time the subject comes up. Maybe I could give it a try, just this once. And I could make it anonymous or something. Yeah. That would work.

“Good, that’s good,” I say to her. “Can I submit my rose and Lion poem? I thought up a way to finish up the rhyme I made up earlier.”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “You are so silly. But go ahead, if you like.”

“Here’s how it goes. ‘Roses are red, your Lion is blue...robeasts are ugly, and Hagar is too.’ That’ll be my entry. Think I’ll win?”

“Oh...!” She presses a hand to mouth and laughs. Even the driver smiles to himself a little. But somehow I get the feeling that I shouldn’t quit my day job just yet.

Well, isn’t this a interesting piece of work. The Flying Fortress is alive and well and serving as a space platform. It picks up on my coffin ship almost as soon as I drop out of hyperspace, and then it has the nerve to dispatch half a squadron of its own fighter craft to investigate. Whatever happened to the good old days when I could come and go to Arus at my leisure and wreak havoc at will?

Those days are gone forever, it seems. I’ll have to adjust all my future strategies accordingly. Not to mention that right now I’ll actually have to take over the controls of the coffin craft and do some honest work evading the enemy. Been ages since I actually had to fly. Never did like to do it. But that’s what magic is for. I whisper a phrase to call upon the dark forces and have them endow me with senses and reflexes far superior to those of the pilots giving chase. A shiver across the back of my neck informs me that my call has been answered, and I hit the turbojets. It doesn’t take long for me to slip out of their grasp. Young cadets, freshly graduated from their training, no doubt. I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next visit to Arus.

The effects of the magic begin to fade as I prepare for planetfall, and halfway through the process I set the controls back to autopilot and relax. Coba is awfully annoyed that I disturbed his nap with all that fancy flying. I placate him with a scratch behind the ears as the coffin ship reaches its destination and makes a soft landing. When the lid opens, I stand up and take a look around the area.

I programmed the computer to find a point of concealment as close as possible to the area where my k’alijih is, but I’m still quite a distance away, by the looks of it. I can see the road that I got chased along at the bottom of the ridge (paved now, but in those days it was dirt), and beyond that is a building - new construction, don’t recall it being there the last time I was in this area - and...balloons? Lots and lots of balloons. Hmm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many gathered together in one place before, not even among the decorations I picked for the celebration of Lotor’s self-coronation. That was an awful lot of fun. Lotor hates balloons, and Cossack spent half the afternoon tormenting him by sucking down helium and talking in an annoyingly squeaky voice that could make a blood wraith flee in terror.

I wonder what the princess is celebrating today. Something outrageously happy-shiny, I bet. That’s the norm for her. She lives for that sort of thing. She’s a warm, fuzzy hug on two legs, living proof that cotton candy can evolve into a form of intelligent life. And that industrial strength, sugar-coated tenderness of hers can make me violently ill in a way that few other things can.

I suppose the real reason I despise her so much, however, is the fact that she knows my dirty little secret. Once upon a time, I too was filled to the brim with goodness and sweetness and niceness. I gazed upon the universe with bright, innocent eyes and believed it a good place to be. But that was many, many years and one very ambitious warlord ago.

Enough of the musing, already. I have to find my k’alijih and get back to Doom so I can finish up my plague and make Little Boy Blue happy. As I start down a little footpath I locate nearby, I glance up at the sky a few times. Nowhere near enough clouds to whip up a thunderstorm. And if I used my magic to force nature’s hand the anomaly would give me away. Darn. My handy little Wild Wind spell might be enough to disperse the balloons, though. Tempting...

Dexter, stop chewing on your nails.” Tasia grabs my hand and pulls it away from my mouth. “It doesn’t look very Captain-like.”

“He always does that when he’s nervous.” Alan says. “It never fails.”

“I know, but it ain’t gonna look any good if someone comes walking into the command center and here’s our fearless Captain, chewing on his thumb.”

“I’m not nervous this time,” I tell Tasia. “I told you before that I happen to have a hangnail.”

“Use this, then.” Tasia dips into her pocket and hands me a small metal object. I turn it over in my hand to study it.

“What is this?”

“It’s a nail clipper.”

“How’s it work?”

Tasia strikes her ‘attitude pose’, as I call it - a fold of the arms, a tilt of the head and an expression on her face that clearly indicates that she thinks you’re either out of your mind, out of your league or out of this world.

“What - you telling me they don’t have nail clippers on Pollux?”

“Yes we do, but they don’t look anything like this. Our clippers are more like a really, really tiny pair of scissors -”

“Like cuticle trimmers, then.”

“I guess...so like, umm...how do you use this thing?”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “By the time I explain to you how to use it I can take care of your hangnail myself.” She takes it back and twists the topmost piece of metal to make it stand out at an angle and become a little lever. Aha, now I think I get it.

“Let me see that?” I take it from her, look it over. With the little lever in place, it forces the two ends to come together, much like a little mouth. I hold it up for Tasia to see and use a squeaky little voice, as if talking for it, while pressing the lever. “Hello there, Miss, I’m Mister Clippy! Pleased to meet you.”

Alan rolls his eyes. “And the people of Arus will sleep soundly tonight, knowing that this man is in charge of their personal safety.”

Tasia makes a face at me. “Will you quit playing around with that?” She takes it back and extends her free hand. “Here, now gimme your thumb.”

“What for? What are you planning to do to me with that?”

“Will you just - gimme your hand, lionboy.” She grabs my thumb, looks it over and begins to snip at the bit of loose skin with the business end of the device.

“Oww! That hurts!”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you’d stop making such a fuss and hold still, you big baby.”

Alan chuckles quietly. Galen glances at us over his shoulder then he returns his attention to the main display. Tasia finally ends the torture and releases my hand. I check my thumb for damage.

“Don’t you even act like that hurt,” she says.

“It did hurt. You were cutting into the part that -”

An incoming transmission interrupts my response. “Arus One to Arus Two. Come in, Arus Two.”

I open the channel with a flick of my wounded thumb. “Arus Two here. What’s up?”

“Captain, we had an unidentified object drop out of jump point five minutes ago. Initial scans indicate that it may be a craft of Doom origin, a coffin ship to be precise. It flew out of detection range before a confirmation could be made, so fighters were dispatched to try and re-locate it. So far the search hasn’t turned up anything, but I’m waiting for an update as we speak.”

Alan, Tasia and Galen crowd around me all at once with questioning looks. I shrug back at them before I respond. “And you’re sure it’s only one craft, not two?”

“Yessir.”

“All right, Arus One. I’ll be waiting for that update. Any other good news?”

“No, Sir. That’s all we have.”

“Roger. Arus Two out.” I settle back in the command chair and puff at my bangs. “Great, a coffin ship. That could mean a robeast if the sightings are true. I need to get somebody up there...hey, Dunny’s already on patrol.” I hail Yellow Lion. Dunkirk answers immediately.

“Aye, Captain?”

“Dunkirk, did you happen to get a communication from Arus One?”

“Aye, an’ they made a request for me t’ help ‘em search th’ area for th’ coffin ship. I’ve just broke orbit an’ I have every sensor I got wide open. I’m nae gettin’ a thing so far.”

“Keep me informed, will you? I need to know whether to sound the robeast alarm early or not.”

“Captain, I donna think we got a robeast here.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because whenever a robeast is transported in a coffin ship, then either Hagar or an accompanyin’ ship - dreadnought class or higher - has t’ be on hand t’ pump it full o’ energy so it can grow.”

“Then we should be scanning Alpha Point for any incoming support as well as locating the coffin ship.”

“Arus One is already a step ahead o’ ye, Captain, and they’ve got nothin’ so far. I think ye ought t’ send Galen out here too t’ have a better look, t’ be honest with ye.”

Galen looks at me and gives me one of my own ‘yeah, you know you want to’ nods. I chuckle at him and raise the platform. He’s in the silo the moment it reaches full height. Alan looks at Tasia, then at me.

“You know, Captain, the more Lions, the merrier..”

“And we are on yellow alert, so why just stand around? Don’t make much sense, does it?” Tasia smiles at me. “Right?”

I give a sigh and lower the platform. “Go ahead, you two. I’ll just sit here all by my lonesome while you go and have fun without me.”

Tasia gives me one of her attitude poses, her head bobbing from side to side as she speaks. “Excuuuse me, Mister I-am-Voltron’s-head-and-torso, if we do find a robeast out there, then you know that the show can’t go on without you. So lose that whine before one of the princess’s mice comes in here and hands you a chunk of his cheese to go with it.” She hops to the floor. “Hurry up and raise the silos so we can do the Lion thing, why don’t you?”

I glance over my shoulder at Alan. He’s trying hard not to laugh. I look around at Tasia. She plants her hands on her hips and taps her foot. I shake my head and raise the platform. Tasia tosses the nail clipper up to me.

“There, Mister Clippy can keep you company.”

“Thanks,” I call to her as she and Alan make their way to the Lions. I switch the main display input to the orbital cameras and watch them rocket off toward Arus One. Green Lion has already passed by and is just a tiny speck outlined by its identification icon. Alan and Tasia split up and head off in different directions as soon as they clear the atmosphere. I call up the long view abstract map to check and see what they’re doing.

“Tasia, I have Galen at three high, Dunkirk at nine and a half, I’m moving up to twelve,” Alan says.

“Gotcha big Blue, I’ll take the six,” Tasia replies.

I smile to myself. They’re using Galen and Dunkirk’s positions to align themselves up in a Full Spread configuration, without my even telling them to. Good people.

“Captain, this is Green Lion. “I’m compiling all the coordinates, according to initial reports, for the unidentified craft sighting. I’ve just about got the 3D map completed, and I can tell you that right now things aren’t looking good.”

“What is it, Galen? Talk to me.”

“It’s looking like the craft is already on its way planetside. It might even be there by now. The gap between the last two pick-up points indicates a significant increase in speed. If it continued to travel at this projected rate, I’d say it reached the atmosphere about five to six minutes ago.”

“Galen, I’m not hearing you right. If what you say is true, then it was on its way to landing ten minutes after Arus One first spotted it. Coffin ships can’t fly that fast.”

“Well, if this was a coffin ship and these are the location points for it, then I’m telling you that yes, it did fly that fast.”

“That canna be a standard make an’ model, then,” Dunkirk cuts in. “Musta been souped up or somethin’. Maybe it’s Lotor’s personal travelin’ craft.”

“No, Dunny, it can’t be,” Tasia replies. “Lotor has that big bird-looking thing, remember?”

“I’m really not liking this process of elimination, people. If it can’t be a robeast, and it probably isn’t Lotor, then that leaves -”

A hailing light flashes on the console. I open the link. “Castle Control, Captain Stiles speaking.”

“Captain, this is Sergeant Terrose of the Arus City Police Department. I’ve received three calls this afternoon from campers in Zelbridge Park claiming to have seen a single individual wearing coarse brown robes and carrying a wooden staff wandering the edges of the campground. I wouldn’t normally bother you with this information because we get crank phone calls along those lines all the time. But with this being the day for Princess Allura’s visit to Hearthvale Orphanage, I thought I’d bring it to your attention. The camping grounds are close to that area.”

“Thank you, Sergeant, for that piece of information. Castle control out.” I switch back to the Lions immediately. “Galen, you have that map done yet?”

“Yessir, and it still supports my theory.”

“I have something else that may support your theory, but first you have to do some work for me. Calculate both an approach vector and a landing point based on the object’s final speed and position, and tell me what you get.”

Galen replies one held lungful of breath later. “Calculations are complete, Captain. The approach vector would take the craft to a position approximately two kilometers southwest of Zelbridge Park, give or take half a kilometer for bias.”

“Damn, I was afraid you’d say that. Okay, team, listen up. I just got a call from the local police reporting several sightings of a person fitting Hagar’s description in the near vicinity of Zelbridge. I need you to get over to the orphanage and secure that area ASAP. I’ll be on standby. You see or hear anything funny, yell for me and I’m on it. Castle Control out.” I have my thumbnail nearly to my mouth before I realize what I’m doing. I clasp both hands together and place them firmly in my lap.

“And so, with a song in her heart, Whimsey set forth along the forest path, happy to be able to return to her home in the great oak tree at last.” I close the book and set it aside. “That’s the end of the story-reading for now, kids, but I’ll be back right after a short break. Be sure to stop by the refreshment tent so Princess Allura can give you some cake and ice cream.”

The children immediately spring up from their seats on the grass and descend on the refreshment tent en masse. Shannon waves to me from where she stands at the foot of the stage on the right. I move my microphone aside, set the book in my chair and stroll over to her.

“New makeup?” I nod my head toward the smudge of blue paint on her cheek. She blinks, rubs at her cheek and studies the color on her fingertips.

“Hmm, must be from where Little Dougie gave me a kiss. It took me fifteen minutes to convince him that tempera paint doesn’t taste like the flavors that the colors indicate, and he still stuck the brush in his mouth to see for himself.” She shakes her head. “What a little imp he is.”

“He sounds like quite a handful.”

“He is. But he’s such a sweetie. And he’s going to have a home soon. He told me about the couple that came by to visit and talked about adopting him. He said he wasn’t interested until the man bribed him with a puppy and a swimming pool.” She breaks into a happy smile. “You going for lunch now, Lynne?”

“Yes I am, as a matter of fact. Shall we find Caro?”

“Sure,” she replies, and we start across the lawn. This is turning out to be a very nice social event. The children are having so much fun. Radiant little faces are everywhere. We pause by the tent where the massive cake is to watch the goings-on.

Keith, Lance and Allura are passing out pieces of cake to an endless line of takers that stretches out from under the tent and across the lawn. Keith and Lance are using a very long tool with a grip on each end that looks like a two-handed saw without teeth. They press it straight down through the cake at intervals, and the princess handles the short cross cuts with a normal cake cutter. She scoops up each piece and deposits it on the colored paper plates offered up to her with a quick push of her finger. This has created a bit of a deposit on her hand, and during a brief lull she asks Lance to take over while she goes to wash her hands.

As she goes past Keith, she pokes an icing-coated finger in her mouth and happens to glance his way just as he looks over his shoulder to see who’s walking behind him. He smiles at her, then his gaze falls on her finger and he swallows tightly. Allura gets a very impish smile as she slowly withdraws her finger from her mouth and licks her lips, her eyes on his the entire time. Keith clears his throat and goes back to cake-cutting.

Lance, of course, has special radar built into his system to detect such encounters when they happen anywhere near him. He gives Keith a huge grin. Keith swipes a fingerful of icing from the cutter and flicks it at Lance’s face. It lands on his cheek with a splat and makes the children laugh. With great restraint, Lance draws a calming breath and pauses to wipe the icing off of his cheek. He resumes his cake distribution without throwing anything back at Keith. But revenge is brewing in those icy green eyes of his. Shannon and I smile at each other as we pass the tent by. Clean-up time should turn out to be very interesting.

We find Caro at the balloon stand, along with Hunk. Caro is busily handing balloons out to every child within reach as fast as Hunk can inflate them. More than one string slips from a small hand and allows the helium-filled escapee to make a mad dash for freedom into the clear afternoon sky. But there are many more where they came from, so the tears over a lost balloon don’t last for long.

“I wanna purple one!” A little girl demands as she bounces up and down in place. As Hunk goes about filling her request, a sound like dozens of jets approaching in a group reaches our ears. Hunk cranes his neck skyward as he ties the balloon off and hands it to Caro.

“That’s the Lions coming,” he mutters aloud. “Wonder what’s up.”

A moment later the huge metal cats thunder by overhead, all but Black Lion, and land at four points of the compass beyond the ring of trees surrounding the area. I can feel the thump of their landing through the ground. The children cheer and point and laugh.

Lance and Keith emerge from the cake tent and fix their attention on the big metal shapes looming above the tree line. Keith glances at his watch and says something to Lance with a smile, but Lance looks concerned. He explains something to Keith that’s making him lose his smile very quickly. Hunk has noticed it too. He excuses himself and jogs across the lawn to join Lance and Keith. Allura emerges from the tent and pauses by the doorway to watch Keith and Lance converse.

A few moments later, Galen, Alan, Tasia and Dunkirk enter the clearing. They’re all casting wary looks around the area and none of them are smiling. They all begin to converge on the gathering by the cake tent. Dunkirk is keeping his left hand near his laser pistol and looks as if he’s ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

“What do you suppose that’s all about?” Caro muses as she ties a loop around the little girl’s wrist to secure the balloon. The girl happily skips off with her prize.

“I have no idea,” Shannon replies. “Think we should get nosy? Lynne?”

I nod to her and we work our way around to where the group is gathering. Out of the corner of my eye I see the girl bouncing her arm up and down to make the balloon jump about as she wanders near the trees. I smile to myself. I used to do that myself when I was small. Balloons were quite the novelty in those days.

“But think about the timing, Keith,” I hear Lance insist as we get within hearing distance. “The way I figure it, Dexter would have gotten the calls at about the same time that Shelly was supposed to wander around the camp area. That’s a fast response, all right. Too fast. A camper would have to make the sighting and then find the nearest phone. You gotta figure in about ten extra minutes for that, plus whatever time the police would take before they decided to contact the castle.”

“The calls could have been made by cell phone,” Keith replies.

“I dunno about that, Cap’n. I think -”

A child’s scream suddenly erupts from a spot a few dozen feet behind me. The little girl with the purple balloon comes racing into the clearing, her eyes wide with terror. She races right up to Dunkirk and hugs his legs.

“Hagar the witch!” She wails. “I saw Hagar the witch!”

Dunkirk gently breaks her hold on his legs and drops to one knee to address her. “Where’d ye see her, lass?”

“That way!” She points behind her without looking. “She’s out there...!” She hides her face on Dunkirk’s shoulder. Dunkirk hugs her protectively and throws a look toward Hunk.

The clearing turns into chaos. The children panic and fill the air with cries of alarm as they scatter and run for hiding. Allura collects as many of them as she can within her personal circle and stands her ground protectively like a mother hen guarding her chicks. Caro and Shannon break up to do likewise. I crouch down to gather a sobbing little boy in my arms and rock him as a trio of little girls nearly knock me over in their attempt to hide behind me. Lance draws his laser pistol in a flash and stands between Allura’s frightened group and the tree line. Caro, Shannon and I work our way toward the princess with the children we’ve gathered.

Keith looks at Alan, nods at his laser pistol and holds out a hand. Alan tosses the weapon to him and Keith sprints for the area the girl pointed to with Tasia and Galen right behind him. A hush falls over the clearing as everyone waits to see what will happen. After a pause, Hagar emerges into the clearing, hands raised, with Keith and the rest right behind her. Keith holds up a hand to quiet the shouts of alarm all around him.

“Okay, everyone, quiet for a minute...look, this isn’t really Hagar at all.” He walks around to stand beside the woman as she slowly lowers her arms. “This is a lady named Shelly, and she works at the castle. We asked her to pretend to be Hagar for a little while so we could test the new Voltron team and make sure they were on the alert.”

He reaches up and tugs on the woman’s warty, hooked nose. It pulls off to reveal a normal one of flesh color underneath. Keith rubs at the dark green on her cheeks and holds up his hand to show where the makeup has rubbed off. “See, just a woman in a costume. It’s okay.”

Allura rests a hand on her chest and huffs out a sigh of relief. Two boys of about five years of age walk over cautiously to take a closer look. Keith lifts each one up in turn to rub at the woman’s makeup and see for themselves. They promptly run around to show their messy hands to everyone who’s willing to look.

The little boy I’m holding squirms to be let down. I set him on his feet and he runs over to ask Keith if he can see the fake nose. Keith hands it to him and he tries it on his own face for size. With the crisis over, the kids begin to return to their former level of play and enjoyment. I laugh to myself. Children can be so amazingly resilient at times.

Dunkirk smiles at the little girl he was looking after. “See there, lass? It’s all just a bit o’ fun, eh? No nasty old witch around t’ scare ye.” He scoops her up, springs to his feet and tosses her into the air a few times to make her giggle, then he gives her a wink and a kiss on the cheek before setting her down and letting her go. He finally becomes aware that I’m watching and turns to give me a smile.

“I can do that for ye too, if ye like.”

I fold my arms. “Not unless I get a balloon first.”

“An’ what color would ye care for, lass?”

“I want a purple one.”

“I can arrange that,” he replies with a wider grin and starts off in the direction of the balloon stall, but Keith calls him over before he can do anything. He gives me a helpless shrug and heads in Keith’s direction instead. I smile and shake my head to myself, and as I turn to go my own way I notice Shannon and Caro in a huddle, smiling at me from ear to ear. I make a face at them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Caro replies innocently. “Nothing at all.”

“We didn’t see you flirting with Dunkirk, honest,” Shannon teases.

“Oh, phooey on the both of you. I’m going to lunch.” I ignore the giggles that break out as I walk past them.

“Well, ain’t that just a fine piece o’ work. A fake witch sightin’. An’ here we were, all up in arms for nothin’.”

“What are you complaining about?” Galen asks. “You have cake. Where’d you get cake?”

“What, ye mean ye didna see th’ great big tent where they were handin’ it out?”

Galen eyes the paper plate in Dunkirk’s hands. “I bet they weren’t handing out four pieces at a time.”

“I was makin’ sure I got a piece for all o’ us.” He holds the plate out to everyone, but Galen is the only one who takes him up on the offer. Dunkirk promptly starts on what’s left.

Tasia is surprisingly calm under the circumstances. “You gotta figure that they would test us in some kinda way. It’s a given. They have to see how we hold up under stress. An actual situation is a lot different than playing around with a simulator, no matter how tough or realistic they make the scenario.”

“Speaking of stress, I bet Dexter’s got his thumb chewed the whole way down to the first knuckle by now,” Galen says around a mouthful of cake. “Somebody ought to call him.”

“Good point.” I unhook my brand new radio from my belt. “Blue Lion to Castle Control, come in, Castle Control.”

Dexter sounds very relieved when he replies. “Castle Control here. I take it by the calm in your voice that all’s good, Alan?”

“Yessir. It turns out that the reports of Hagar being in the area were actually of a woman in costume. She was specifically sent by Keith to wander around and create a series of sightings to test us with.”

There is a long pause. “Did he say anything to you about the encounter at Alpha Point?”

“No Sir, but we assumed -”

“Don’t assume anything. If Keith didn’t mention it to you, then either the test is ongoing and he’s waiting to see how we follow up, or there actually is some other trouble that’s come along. Tell Dunkirk and Galen that I want them to take their Lions and search the area where Galen figured the ship could have landed. I want you and Tasia to rejoin the search effort out by Arus One. If Dunkirk and Galen find something, you return planet side to back them up. If you and Tasia find anything out in space, you call them to join you.”

“Roger that, Captain. How’s the thumb, by the way?”

“My thumb is fine, thank you. And Mister Clippy says ‘hi’ to all the nice Lion pilots out there. Now how about we get going?”

“Yessir, we’re on it. Blue Lion out.” I shut off the radio and re-clip it onto my belt. “You heard the Captain, team. Let’s get to the Lions.”

Good grief, those blasted Lions!

I watch with more than a little anxiety as they land roughly fifty meters away from my current position. And here I thought I evaded all the obstacles I had to in order to make a safe, undetected landing. Is the Voltron Force onto me already?

No, it can’t be, or they’d have been chasing me every bit as eagerly as Allura was way back when. I’m pretty sure, at least. In any case, after all this trouble and effort I’m definitely not leaving without my k’alijih now, Lions or no Lions. Even if I hadn’t needed it to finish my spell, I’d retrieve it out of sheer principle.

I’m sure it’s well-hidden wherever I happened to drop it. I’m glad I decided to go ahead and etch all those protective runes into the metalwork when I first enchanted it, or someone surely would have stumbled across it a long time ago. I can see it now, some idiot local thinking he’d found a nice sun-catcher to hang from his rear view mirror. Then the day would come when he’d try to pronounce some of the runes and wonder why his friends had all been turned into a bunch of giant blue gerbils. What a waste of finely- crafted magic that would be.

I step out from the tree line and cross a narrow strip of gravel to step onto the road where the Great Chase began and cross over to the other side, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground for the tree root where the crystal is resting. Coba pounces on something not far from my left foot immediately after we reach the grass on this side of the road, and I look closer to see that he’s captured himself a snack. A field mouse. He dispatches the struggling captive with a swat of his paw and begins to feast. Good. One less rodent left in the universe to plague me with.

Something at the edge of my vision is nagging me, telling me there’s something up above my head. I glance upward and see Yellow Lion staring right at me from above the tree line. My yelp catches in my breath and I duck into the trees. After several minutes of waiting, nothing happens. I peek out from around the tall oak I’m hiding behind. Yellow Lion is in the same position, still looking my way, but it hasn’t budged. It must be unoccupied. Coba looks around as if amused by my sudden fright and swallows down the last of his meal. I point a finger at him.

“That’s not funny, kitty. Come along, it’s time for us to get moving.”

“Well, well well, what have we got here?” Comes a voice from behind me. I turn to see a young human male with a piece of cake in his hand, regarding me with a tilt of his head. He’s a big, brawny redhead with bright green eyes and a cocky little grin on his face. I don’t recognize his uniform at all. I do find it interesting that he doesn’t seem the least bit afraid of me. I’ll have to change that attitude for him.

“Hagar the witch at your service, dear.” I bow, smile and await the inevitable reaction I always get - fear or panicked bravado, both of which I can deal with easily. But he simply stands his ground and smiles a little wider.

“Sure ye are. An’ I’m th’ bleedin’ tooth fairy, out on me summer break. C’mon lass, th’ jig is up for th’ likes o’ ye. I’ve already been told all about yer plans for th’ day. Now give it a rest before someone gets hurt.”

Hmm. This is definitely different...

“And who might you be, sonny?”

“Fenton Fergus Dunkirk, Team Two, Voltron Force.” He reaches out and snags my hand to shake it firmly. “Pleasure t’ meet ye.”

“Voltron Force, eh? Nice uniform.”

“Ye like that, do ye? Just got ‘em th’ other day.”

“I see. So do tell. Didn’t they warn you about me at all in Voltron class?”

“Oh, sure they did. I know that Hagar th’ witch is supposed t’ be evil, wicked, mean an’ nasty, all o’ that in upper case writin’. And if ye actually were Hagar, I’d be thinkin’ long and hard about bein’ so bold as t’ stand around and socialize with ye, o’ course. But seein’ as how ye aren’t th’ old bat in question, I donna mind having a bit o’ chat with ye. Here, have a piece o’ cake.” He offers me the plate. I take it and dip a finger in the icing to taste it, then I take a bite of the cake. Ahh, Devil’s food, my favorite.

“Hmm, this isn’t bad at all.”

“Aye, that’ll sweeten yer disposition for ye.” He gives me a wink. “On a more serious note, though, ye do need t’ get rid o’ that costume, lass. Nobody’s gonna fall for it now that we know ye’re a fake.”

Fake? He thinks I’m a fake? I don’t know whether I should be insulted or not. I swallow down my next bite of cake and gesture toward Coba, who has come up to rub against my robes. “There’s my evil cat. Do you think he’s fake too?”

He leans forward slightly and looks Coba over briefly. “Nothin’ that some blue hair dye an’ a glued-on prosthetic canna produce. An’ that reminds me. Ye say ye’re th’ genuine article, right? Then I got a test for ye that’ll prove it quick.” The radio at his hip beeps suddenly, and he pulls it off of his belt. “Hold on for a second, will ye? I got a call.”

“Now see here, you -” I sputter, but he holds up a hand to silence me. What an insolent little cuss he is. Frog, lizard, Gorian blood-leech, furry snack to feed to Coba - which one should I turn him into? Choices, choices. I ponder the options as I finish my cake.

“Dunkirk here,” comes the voice over my speakers. “How can I help ye?”

“Dunny, this is Galen. What are you doing? We’re supposed to be searching the area for the coffin ship.”

“Donna worry, lad, I’ll be with ye in a minute. I’m just dealin’ with a woman down here who’s tryin’ t’ spook me with th’ Hagar bit.” I hear the proximity of his voice change, as if he’s lowered the radio, when he speaks next. “As I was sayin’ now...ye claim ye’re Hagar th’ witch, so ye do. Well, if that’s true, it means I wonna be able t’ pull that nose o’ yours off for ye, will I?”

There’s a pause, and then I hear a very shrill squawk, followed by a stream of very nasal cursing in a language I can’t understand. An instant later there’s a sound like a surge of energy from the end of a high-voltage cable. Dunkirk yells, there’s a thud, and then silence. I blink at the speaker, unable to believe my ears for a moment.

“Dunkirk...?” I manage finally. “Dunkirk, can you hear me? Are you there? Green Lion to Dunkirk...Dunny, come in!”

The reply I get is not Dunkirk’s, but that of a woman speaking in a calm tone that has a touch of menace to it. “I’m sorry, Dunkirk’s not here right now...but if you leave your name, number and a brief message at the sound of the tone, he’ll get back to you.”

The radio thumps again, and then nothing. I open the main channel to all Lions, as well as Castle Control.

“Dexter, Alan, Tasia!” I yell into the commlink. “Emergency, emergency! We’ve got trouble!”

“Okay, somebody shoot me now.” Lance sighs and props his feet up on the bench across from him, then he looks at me. “Do it, Keith, put me out of my misery.” He slumps on the bench he’s seated on and lets his head fall back against the table.

“Gimme a pistol,” I tell him. He fishes his out of his jacket and hands it to me. I point my finger at him instead and cock my thumb. “Bang.”

“Urk,” he replies and goes completely limp. I give a tired laugh and rest the pistol on his lap. He tucks it back into his jacket.

Lance, Hunk, the princess and I have all been replaced by castle and orphanage staff at the cake tent and balloon stand while we rest in canteen. What a day. I had no idea that handing out cake could be so strenuous. I sigh heavily, fold my arms to rest them on the picnic table I’m sitting at and plunk my head down. Lance looks as tired as I feel. The joke he just made is the only wisecrack I’ve heard out of him in the last hour or so, so I know he’s exhausted. Even Hunk looks like he’s on the verge of collapse, and he should be having a serious sugar buzz by now after all the cake he’s eaten.

“Have something to eat, guys?” Allura approaches the table with a paper plate in each hand. She rests one beside me, the other by Lance. She looks as weary as the rest of us but she’s still smiling, the quietly happy expression she always gets when she’s done a good thing and she knows it.

“Yeah, thanks.” I sit up straight and pick up half of the sandwich from the plate. She turns to get yet another plate for Hunk, then one for herself. The piece of cake balanced on the edge of her dish threatens to fall as she takes her seat beside me. She pushes it back to safety and cleans the bit of icing off her fingertip with a quick swipe of her tongue. My mind instantly goes back to the moment where she had a much larger amount on her finger that she licked away with a very wanton smile on her face. And she kept her eyes locked on mine the entire time, blatantly suggesting something that she shouldn’t have been thinking of in the first place. I thought I was going to die on the spot, fall over with my eyes turned into little x’s and my feet stuck in the air. End of Keith.

What in the world has gotten into her head these days? It’s a damn good thing that neither Coran or Nanny are here to prowl around and watch her every move. If either of them ever saw her look at me and make a gesture like that, they’d probably drag her off and lock her in the tallest tower of the castle. Either that, or lock me in the deepest part of the dungeon. I’m not sure which. Maybe both.

“Keith, look!” Lance points skyward, and my gaze follows his finger. “Red, Blue and Green Lion are doubling back on Yellow’s position, and there’s Dexter coming in at twelve high.”

“Yellow?” Hunk turns his head to look. “What’s the matter with Yellow Lion?”

And then it hits all of us at once. After I gave the lowdown on the Hagar situation to Alan and the others, the Lions took off. All except Yellow Lion, that is. It hasn’t moved from its spot since Dunkirk parked it there. We watch as the remaining four Lions land around it. It still doesn’t budge. I feel a shot of adrenaline zip through my veins as I realize that something could be very, very wrong. Hunk and Lance look equally animated.

“I think we oughtta go see what’s up,” Hunk says. He casts his gaze around for suitable transportation and he spots an ATV with a string of carts attached to it for the purpose of giving kiddy rides. Three others, minus the carts, are parked beside it. Hunk grabs one of the free ones and speeds off for Yellow Lion as fast as he can go. I spring to my feet and turn to Lance.

“Keep an eye on the princess, Lance. We’ll be back.”

Lance looks a little disappointed at missing out on potential action, but he nods his head and promptly takes up a protective position beside Allura. She watches after me as I jump on one of the remaining two vehicles and race off to catch up with Hunk.

When we get close to the area, we spot the air bikes from Black, Red, Green and Blue Lion parked in a loose group. The sound of voices edged with worry come from a spot off to our left. We park our vehicles and head in that direction.

The entire group is standing in a small clearing. Dexter and Alan are attempting to brace up an unconscious Dunkirk from where he hangs upside down from a tree branch. His ankles are firmly wrapped in a glowing red mesh that’s wound around it. Galen is straddling the branch and hacking at the mesh with a knife. Tasia is looking at a piece of paper in her hands, blinking at it in disbelief.

“What the...?” Hunk says and he goes right over to help Dexter and Alan with Dunkirk. I walk over to Tasia and ask her what’s going on. She hands the note to me, her eyes still wide. I read it aloud:

“Dear Voltron Force,

Sorry I couldn’t stick around to chat with you, but an evil witch’s work is never done. I have to get back to work in my happy little lab on Doom. Be sure to check your interplanetary news for my latest masterpiece. The capital city of Desederis on Planet Adal is going to suffer from a wonderful plague of spiders and snakes within the week. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. I’ll be sending a robeast, along with my regards, in the near future. Love and nightmares, Hagar.

P.S....Do try to teach your pilot some better manners. One does not tweak the nose of an established villainess, even if proper introductions have been made.

P.P.S....The cake was good though, so I decided to be nice this time. Toodles.”

I blink at the note, then at Tasia.

“He tweaked her nose? And what cake are we talking about here?”

Tasia gives a helpless shrug. She still looks a little stunned.

“He must have given her one of the four pieces he had,” Alan replies. “As for the nose-tweaking part, Galen said he heard the whole thing through his link to Dunny’s radio.”

“I heard her yell when he did it,” Galen calls down from his perch. He cuts the last of the mesh free and the others lower Dunkirk to the ground. Hunk gives his cheek a firm slap. “Dunny...hey - wake up, ol’ buddy....wake up!”

Dunkirk stirs and groans. His eyes are still closed. “Mind ye, lad, donna be gettin’ too close t’ that rabbit. He’ll bite ye on th’ bum...”

“Dunny...!” Hunk takes him by the shoulders and shakes him firmly. Dunkirk’s eyes pop open and he squints at the faces all around.

“Wha...? Which way did th’ penguins go...? He attempts to sit up and falters. Hunk braces him up.

“Dunny, are you nuts? What the hell did you think you were doing, tweaking Hagar’s nose, for cryin’ out loud?”

“I was...well damn, what was I doin’? Wait - there were only three penguins involved. And I didna have enough change for th’ bloody bus, damn it! They sure donna make rubber bands like they used to.”

Everyone gives Dunkirk funny looks. He grins back at all of us.

“Me doughnuts are meltin’ at th’ twenty-third yardline. An’ that’s worth a sawbuck in yer ear, sure as anythin’.”

“Ooh,” Alan says quietly. “She zapped him good.”

“Count it lucky that he’s still alive, Alan. Very lucky.” I lean down to take a closer look at him. Maybe it’s only a temporary thing. I hope so...

I straighten up and wave the paper at the group. “All right, everyone. According to this note, Hagar is gone already, but I still want a sweep of the area one last time to make doubly sure. Dexter, you know the drill. Have someone get Dunkirk to Doc Leslie right away so she can look him over, and assign two of the people left to case the area as thoroughly as you can, however you want to do it. When you’re done, I want a follow-up report on my desk tomorrow morning, and send a copy to Arus One as well.”

Dexter gives a curt nod and sends Tasia and Galen off to their Lions as Alan and Hunk help Dunkirk to his feet. Hunk looks around at me.

“Hey Chief, lemme fly Dunny back to the castle. He can’t do it in this condition.”

“I know that, but I’d prefer for him to be taken back in another Lion and let Yellow Lion stay here. We can take it back in at the end of the party. It’ll be sounder transport for the princess that way.”

“Who says I canna play hide an’ seek?” Dunkirk demands as he sways back and forth. “I’ll slap that duck sideways with a tap-dancin’ trout for all his trouble. That’ll teach him his alphabet, sure enough.”

“Dunny...” Hunk raises a hand to Dunkirk’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up right now?”

Dunkirk leans forward slightly, still managing to remain upright (not an easy feat for him in his current condition), and squints at Hunk’s hand for a long time without speaking.

“Albuquerque,” he replies finally in a cheerful tone of voice.

Hunk shakes his head and drapes Dunkirk’s arm around his shoulders, bearing the brunt of his weight as he and Alan walk Dunkirk over to Alan’s air bike. Dexter runs a hand over his hair and sighs as he watches them go.

“Well, this has been a real mess,” he says quietly.

“Don’t blame yourself, Dexter. Lance thought up the idea, and I gave it the go-ahead. I never dreamed that Hagar would actually show up. Talk about your bad timing. But you handled it well in any case. Your first priority was seeing to Allura’s safety as soon as you determined that there was a potential threat, so you did just fine.”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

Dexter nods, more to himself than to me, then he gives me a crisp salute and leaves. I join up with Hunk where we left the vehicles, and we head back to the orphanage. Lance and Allura meet us halfway as we walk back toward the canteen.

“What happened?” Allura asks.

I explain to her what went on, and the expression on her face flickers between concern and alarm. Concern finally wins out and she glances over at where Lynne, Shannon and Caroline are sitting, attempting to eavesdrop but trying not to appear that they are.

“Lance and I were talking about what could have happened to Yellow Lion, and Lynne was wondering if Dunkirk was all right. Should I tell her what happened?”

“Maybe you should.”

She nods and goes over to talk with them. I sigh and shake my head.

“And this has only been the second day,” I say to Hunk and Lance. “Wonder what we’ll come up against tomorrow?”

Lance spreads his arms wide, gets a cheesy grin and begins to sing. “The sun’ll come out, tomorrow...bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow...there’ll be - oww!” He rubs at his arm where I smack it.

“Go sit down and finish your lunch,” I tell him. He glares at me, but he does as he’s told.

“Grump,” he mutters as he eats a potato chip. “Nobody likes a grump.”

I ignore him and finish the rest of my own sandwich.

“Well, this has been an interesting day,” Tasia says as she sits down on the edge of the platform. “Ten thousand munchkins, ninety-nine dozen luftballons and the wicked witch of the west, all in one day.”

Dexter spins toward her in the command chair. “You said it. And when we were coming back in to base, Arus One reported that they picked up a coffin ship speeding off from the planet. The fighters gave chase, but it was a no-go. She said ‘See you around, kiddies!’ right before she zipped off to Alpha Point and made her hyperspace jump. They didn’t bother to tell me right away because she was gone long before any of us would have been able to get there.” He runs a hand over his hair. “So it was definitely Hagar, all right. No mistaking it.”

“That means the zap she gave Dunny was for real, too.” Galen looks as frightened as an orphanage child from the afternoon scare, his eyes wide and his voice tiny. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Don’t worry, baby. Dunny’s got a hard head. He’ll be fine.” Tasia musses Galen’s hair and drapes an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll go see him tomorrow, okay?”

I give him a reassuring smile. “And we’ll even take him some of Nanny’s cinnamon rolls. You know how much he loves those. We’ll just march right into the kitchen and demand them in the name of Dunny’s health and well-being.”

Galen smirks at me. “Yeah right, Alan.”

“I’m serious. We can do this. Strategy is the key. You give Nanny that same lost puppy look you have on your face right now, and we’ll own her.”

Galen snickers, but his merriment has no enthusiasm in it. Tasia rubs a hand across his back a few times, hugs him again. Galen smiles, but the worry is still reflected in his eyes. Dexter watches the whole transaction in silence, then he dismisses us for dinner. Tasia makes a detour to the gift shop along the way and helps Galen pick out a get-well card. Then we head to the cafeteria and discuss who will make the rounds to get everyone to sign it. Galen insists on doing it, so Tasia and I don’t argue with him.

“Tomorrow is the official start of the poetry contest,” Tasia says when we take our seats at one of the booths. “I don’t have any idea what I’m gonna write.”

Galen actually looks amused when he smiles this time. “Write a poem about Dexter.”

“Mmm-hmm...” Tasia nibbles on a carrot stick. “Lessee - he’s blonde, blue-eyed and kinda flippy, he likes to play with Mister Clippy...”

“Oh, good one.” Galen says, and laughs so hard that he makes people at nearby tables turn and look at us.

“What about you, Alan?” Tasia picks up another carrot stick. “You gonna give it a shot?”

“I doubt it. I’m about as good at poetry as I am at cooking.”

Tasia and Galen blink at each other. “Ewwww...”

“Come on, you two. I know I’m bad, but I’m not that bad.”

“Alan,” Galen says with a very serious expression. “You’re not supposed to be able to eat macaroni and cheese through a straw.”

“All right, so maybe I overcooked it just a little bit.”

Galen rolls his eyes. “Just a little, yeah.”

“And ‘al dente’ does not mean soaked in hot water for five minutes, either,” Tasia adds.

“Okay, so obviously the right amount of cooking for pasta is somewhere in between the two extremes. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Galen makes a face. “But will anybody survive long enough to be around when you do? That’s the question.”

“Yeah, Alan. When Hunk and Dunkirk don’t want to touch anything you’ve made, you know the stuff is bad.”

“Point made, point made. Maybe I should sign up for an official cooking class in the recreation center. What do you think?”

“I thought you already did that a while back,” Tasia says.

“That was at the Academy. I...didn’t do so well there. I blew up a dessert during one class.”

Galen blinks. “The Mad Cremepuff Bomber? That was you?”

“I was not bombing anything. The pastry came out a little tough, so I thought if I injected the filling under pressure, it would make up for it.”

“I remember that now,” Tasia says. “Caro said the cooking instructor rattled off cusswords in Arusian that she’d never heard before.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” I reply with a shrug.

“Maybe we could use that in interrogations,” Galen says. “We could threaten a Drule soldier with having to eat a meal that Alan cooked if he didn’t talk.”

Tasia laughs. Galen gives me a cheesy grin. But at least he’s not at as upset as he was about Dunkirk, so I guess I can put up with it.

“Ha ha, very funny. Now either cease and desist with the ribbing, or I’ll bake some sugar cookies and make you sample them.”

They immediately turn their attention to their trays. I frown at them.

“That was supposed to be a joke, you know.”

“No, Alan,” Tasia replies. “Your sugar cookies are no joke. They are just plain ol’ bad.”

“Why are they bad? I always make sure to put plenty of sugar in the mix.”

“But four cups is too much.” Tasia shakes her head solemnly. “Take the class, baby. Take the class.” She starts into her meal. Galen does likewise.

Fine. I will take that class, and I’ll show all of you who’s boss. I’ll turn out dishes that’ll make Nanny look like an amateur. You’ll see.

I smile to myself as I begin my meal.

“End of the line, team.” I hop out of my shuttle and circle around to the one Allura is sitting in. She’s resting back against the cushion with her eyes shut. I call up to her and she startles, blinks and leans over the edge to look down at me.

“You know what, Keith?” She says with a tired sigh. “We need exit stairs for these things. And doors, too. I think I’m going to put that in a work request and send it to Maintenance.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m right here to help you.” I spread my arms wide and give her a questioning look. She gets a big smile as she hefts herself up onto the edge of the shuttle, straddling the side panel with a leg on either side.

“You know, princess,” Lance says as he climbs out of his shuttle and walks around to hers. “This should make up for you going to the orphanage for another whole year.”

“I want to visit a little more often than that, Lance. Hopefully every month or two, if I can manage it.” She stretches and yawns as she balances on her precarious seat. She doesn’t even seem to be aware of the danger she’s in. If she fell right this minute, she could be seriously hurt. I move closer to get directly under her.

“No way are you going to be able to do that with your kind of schedule, no matter how many strings Coran pulls to make it so,” Lance says, and I cringe. I’ve been trying to give the benefit of the doubt in this matter, but Lance has no such reservations about the situation. He’s been outspoken about it the entire time, so I really shouldn’t be surprised that now is no different.

“Well, how hard could it be for him, really, to work out time for me to visit the orphanage on a regular basis? He’s already nudging me out of my position on the team in slow but steady degrees, isn’t he?” She gives us both a shrug. It seems she’s finally made the connection for herself. Good.

“He’s getting pretty shrewd in his old age.” She adds with a nod to herself. “But visiting the children is something I don’t mind doing, so I suppose I can accept it. As far as finding a replacement for my Blue Lion is concerned, however, I would think that I should be the one to have the final say on who is to take my place. Don’t you agree?”

“I am not touching that,” Lance says to me quietly. Hunk inadvertently saves the day as he comes around the other side of the walkway to join our little group.

“Hey, princess, I got an idea for you,” He calls up to her. “What if you keep having a big get-together like the one we just had, every year? It could be at a park or something next time, we could take the kids on rides and stuff...maybe like a kick-off to start your annual charity event, or celebrate what’s been collected once it’s over.”

“Hmm...that might work.” She grips the panel, swings her remaining leg over the side, pushes off and lands clumsily on the walkway. I’m right there to steady her as she stumbles forward and she throws her arms around my neck on reflex.

“Ooh,” she grunts. “Bad landing.” She raises her head to look at me and her face is so close to mine that I would barely have to lean forward to kiss her. I can just imagine what Lance and Hunk are thinking. I glance their way and see that they’ve each got their heads turned away from us and shielded by their hands.

“You done yet, Chief?” Hunk asks.

“Knock it off, you two. We’re fine.” I help Allura straighten up and she steps back with a disappointed expression on her face. What, did she think I was going to take advantage of her and sneak a kiss too? I arch an eyebrow at her. She shrugs and walks around me. Hunk and Lance follow her to the lift leading up to the command center, and I bring up the rear. I have the distinct feeling that I’ve done something wrong. Then a thought starts to nag me. Did she drop down like that in order to fall into my arms on purpose? No, she couldn’t have. She would never do a thing like that. Would she...?

The lift doors slide open and we step into Castle Central. Dexter looks very melancholy where he sits at the command console. Allura goes up to him and tries to cheer him up with thanks for a job well done, and Lance and Hunk clap him on the back as they pass by. He gives me a lopsided grin as I approach the platform.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me stick around tomorrow so I can see how it’s really done.”

“Dexter, I already told you that you did fine. Will you stop worrying already?”

“I recall a certain Voltron Force commander telling me once that a Captain can’t worry enough.”

“Oh yeah, that. Well, the Voltron Force commander now says that worrying is good in some cases, and not in others. See you tomorrow. Planning anything special for all that time you’ll have on your hands?”

“Well, I do want to try writing something for the princess’s poetry contest. Is there anything that rhymes with ‘squash’?”

“Umm...the only word that comes to mind right off the bat is ‘quash’. But it‘s nearly the same thing, depending on the context.”

“Hang on, let me find a pen...okay, what was that again?”

“Quash. That’s ‘squash’ without the ‘s’.”

“And what does it mean?”

“’It’s a verb, and it means to destroy, defeat, nullify or cancel.”

“Okay...great. So, are you going to write something for the contest?”

“Yep, I already did.” I recite my poem for him, and he gets a worried look.

“That’s it? You’re serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Darn. I don’t stand a chance of winning, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aww c’mon, Captain-Captain. It’s not hard to figure out. Allura holds a poetry contest, you make an entry that sounds cute...we all know who’s going to win first place.”

“Now wait just a minute. I shouldn’t be able to win any respectable contest with a cheesy little rhyme like that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“But it’s the truth. It doesn’t have to be fair. And nobody’ll really care anyway, since it’ll involve you and the princess. I know I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

I stare him down until he begins to fidget in the chair. Then I storm out of the room and go in search of Allura. I find her in the sitting room with Tasia, Lynne, Caroline, Shannon and all the gals from Team Three. Everyone looks up at me as I come to a stop in the middle of the room with my arms crossed.

“Princess,” I say to her. “Excuse me for interrupting, but have you chosen the judges for your contest yet?”

“No...I was just about to, though.”

“Is it going to involve anyone present?” I make a sweeping gesture to include all the girls in the room. Allura glances around at them, then she looks back at me.

“Yes, everyone here volunteered to be a judge. Why, what’s the matter?”

“I was just talking to Dexter in the command center. He seemed to think that there would be a bias involved if I made an entry, simply because of who I am and not the quality of the poem I would write, if any.”

“Well, I’d like to believe that all the choices would be made as objectively as possible. I don’t think that any preferential treatment should be given to anyone, regardless of who they may be.”

“I agree, and I’d like to make a suggestion to insure that. I think that every entry should be numbered, and the judges should receive the poems with no names attached, just the numbers. After the entries are chosen, then you can match names to numbers to see which person wrote it. That way it guarantees a certain degree of fairness.”

Allura nods thoughtfully. “But if that’s the case, then you have to think up another entry, because I’ve already shared the one you recited to me with everyone here.”

“I thought it was cute,” Shannon pipes up. She gets smiles and nods of agreement. I frown a little.

“It wasn’t cute, it was stupid. Awfully stupid. And that’s just the point I’m trying to make. If the princess hadn’t told you that I’d composed that poem, how many of you actually would have chosen it as a viable entry? Be honest.”

The girls exchange glances with each other. Lynne wrinkles her nose. “Well, to tell the truth...I think I still would have thought it was cute, but I don’t think I would have voted for it.”

“Exactly. So the numbering system will be used, right?”

Allura nods firmly. “Right.” She studies me. “So you’re still going to make a new entry, yes?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it. How long is this contest going to run?”

“Until the end of the week. That leaves five days for the competition.”

“Hmm...I don’t know if I’ll be able to come up with anything by then. Only time will tell, I suppose. But for right now, I have to get some office work done before I turn in for the evening. See you ladies...if you’ll please excuse me, princess.” I give her a slight bow. She doesn’t conceal her disappointment very well as I turn to go.

Along the way to my office is a hallway with floor to ceiling windows made of heavy-duty glass. The corridor is filled with the ruddy glow of another incredible sunset. I stop to watch it and I hear quiet footsteps approach from my right. I turn to see Galen standing there with a deep sadness in his blue eyes. I give him a little smile.

“Galen. How are you this evening?”

“All right, I guess...” He glances down at an envelope in his hands, then he looks up at me. “I got a get-well card for Dunkirk. You wanna sign it?”

“Sure.” I take the card and the pen and write a quick little note to let Dunkirk know that I’ve saved the fake nose for him as a souvenir. Then I hand card and pen back to Galen. He lingers for a moment, grips the pen tightly, looks like he wants to ask me something. I keep quiet and wait for him to speak.

“Keith, you guys have dealt with Hagar a bunch of times, right? You know how she is. Tell me, seriously - is Dunkirk going to be all right?”

I turn to him and rest both hands on his shoulders. “Galen, I have every reason to believe that he’ll be fine. Hagar...she’s a complicated person. She has a good part buried way down deep inside her, and I think that sometimes it manages to break through despite her best efforts to prevent it from happening. Allura insists that it’s so. And if her theory didn’t have any merit, Dunkirk would be dead.

“I myself have been zapped with that staff once or twice. While I have to admit that it wasn’t the most pleasant experience in the world, I’m still around. So Dunkirk might be wigged out for awhile, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be back to himself in no time. Trust me on that, okay?”

Galen nods and smiles. “Okay, Keith. Thanks.” He walks around me and goes on down the hall. I catch the shift of a shadow on my right and turn to face that way.

“You can come out now, Dexter.”

“Curses, foiled again.” He steps around the corner. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Because as soon as Galen asked about Hagar, I figured he came to me because you didn’t have any answers for him. And I had the feeling that you would follow after to get some answers on your own.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly fair for you to have to look after your team and mine both. What the hell am I Captain for, then?”

“Dexter, there are some things I have over you simply because of my experience in the field. But let me assure you that the very first time that I and my team first got our shot at flying the Lions, we really, seriously stank at it. We didn’t have access to Black Lion because we didn’t have its key, and the robeast that came along beat the stuffing out of us. When we finally did locate the key, we still got knocked out of the sky a couple of times before we figured it all out. And that was raw, hands-on training - no Academy, no simulators, no practice sessions...”

Dexter smirks. “And you had to go uphill in waist-deep snow, both ways…”

“Yep. And we had to get out of those dang Lions and push to get them started, by golly...”

We share a hearty laugh over that one. Dexter seems to brighten up a little.

“Thanks, Keith. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome. Sometime soon we’ll have to get together and I’ll tell you a few more stories about our early adventures in Voltron Land. You’ll feel a lot better about what you’re dealing with now once you hear them.”

“Looking forward to it.” He gives me an informal salute and goes his way. I take in the last of the sunset before I head to my office.

To The New Arrivals: Day 1

To The New Arrivals: Day 3