THE NEW ARRIVALS - DAY THREE

“Galen...Galen, get up!” I pound on his door. “Come on, man...we gotta set things in motion! Get up!”

The door slides open and Galen squints at me before he leans against the edge of the doorframe and rubs at his eyes. “Pidge...? What is it, dude - you’re up an hour early.”

“We have to rehearse our con to get the princess to go through the silo in her gown today. I figured the whole thing out yesterday. You have to take one side of the argument, and I’ll take the other...” The sad expression on his face stops me in the middle of my explanation. “What’s the matter?”

“You heard about what happened to Dunkirk, right?”

“Yeah, but I went to talk to Doc Leslie last night. I knew you’d be worried about him, so I wanted to check and make sure he was going to be okay.”

“How’d you know I’d be worried?”

“Because you worry about everything. You’re gonna be an old man before your time, I know it. But Dunkirk will be fine - Doc Leslie said he was showing signs of recovery last night, as a matter of fact - so you can stop working yourself up over it. Now come on so we can put the last part of my diabolical plan in place.”

“Wow, talk about a study in extremes. We had such a busy day yesterday, and today we have the whole day off.” Alan gives a lazy stretch and settles back against the couch. I give him a half nod and pause to tap my pen against my chin. Let’s see, first list details, then think of ways to describe them creatively. Okay, so she’s got full red lips, sparkling brown eyes, lots of curves, nice, big -

“Dexter?”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, Alan, sure. Busy day, next day off, pretty cool. Got it.” I start writing again. He gets up and walks over to look at the notebook in my hands.

“What are you doing...? Oh, the poetry contest. But, umm...to be honest, Dexter, I really don’t think that word right there is a legitimate one. I don’t ever recall seeing it before.” He leans over to reach down and tap his finger on the writing in question.

“That’s because I made it up. This is poetry, Alan. You’re entitled to a bit of creative license under the circumstances.”

“Creative license or not, I would think that for this contest you’d have to keep things decent. The princess is supposed to read the first place winner aloud, and assuming you actually made it that far you really don’t want to have her use a word like ‘breasticles’ in a room full of people.”

“Oh yeah, good point. Scratch that, then.” I scribble the word out.

“Look, Dexter, if I may...poetry is supposed to be made up of a series of word-pictures, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I take it you’re trying to write a poem about Tasia.”

“Yep.”

“Then the first thing you should do is think her in general. What is it about her that stands out to you the most?”

“Mmm...she’s tough on the outside, soft on the inside.”

“All right, so what about the tough part? What’s the first thing that pops into your head when you think about that?”

“Umm, a tiger.”

“A tiger?”

“Well, I did think lioness, but that’s been done before.”

“Okay...so we’ve got tiger for the outside. What about the inside?”

“She’s warm, cuddly, kinda playful, actually, if you get her in the right mood...kitten. I’m thinking kitten. You can play around and have fun with a kitten, but it still has claws and it can scratch you up if you’re not careful. That’s Tasia.”

“So take it another step further, then. You have a tiger on the outside, a kitten on the inside..”

“That would be, umm...” I snap my fingers a couple of times. “A tiger with a kitten’s heart! Hey, that works, Alan!”

“Right. Now all you have to do is think of another attribute, make that same type of association, string them together, and bam - instant poem.”

“Wow...I’m impressed. What are you going to write for the contest?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to enter. I like reading poetry, but I don’t handle the writing part so well.”

“Why not? If you followed your own logic, I bet you could come up with something really good.”

“No...I can identify the elements, but I just can’t put them together in a way that’s appealing.”

“Like those biscuits you make. I think Keith still uses one from your last baking attempt as a paperweight.”

He makes a face at me. “Thanks ever so, Captain, for that generous show of support. But that reminds me - I’m going to pay a visit to the recreation center. Have fun with your poem.” He steps around the coffee table and leaves the sitting room. I turn my attention back to writing.

“Blue Lion here, Hunk,” Allura announces through the channel. “I’m on my way to Quadrant seven. Everything looks good so far. No suspicious activity to report, and the sky is wonderfully clear. It’s going to be a bright, bright, sunshiny day.”

I chuckle out loud. “There’s an old song with that line in it, you know?”

“Really? Do you have a copy of it?”

“Yep, sure do. Buried in my oldies collection somewhere.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime if you happen to find it.”

“I’ll dig it out just for you. How’s that?”

“That’s nice of you, Hunk. Thanks a lot.”

“Welcome, princess. See ya at next check-in.”

Pidge and Galen come strolling into the control center a few minutes later with big grins on their faces. They walk up to lean around both sides of the chair. They’re up to something, I’m sure of it. I give them a wary look.

“What’s up, Pidge? You report down here after Keith. That’s not till late.”

“I know, Hunk,” Pidge replies with a smile. “But I need you to help me out with something right now.”

“We have a bet,” Galen says, his smile as big. “And Pidge is gonna lose it.”

Pidge straightens up and frowns at Galen. “No way, goober. You’re the one who’s taking a fall this time.”

“I don’t think so. You are just way wrong, and we’ll see the proof soon enough.”

“All right, you guys. What’s this all about, and what’s it got to do with me?”

Galen props an arm on my shoulder. “Pidge says that the trapeze in Blue Lion’s access silo is calibrated differently than the ones in all the rest of them. He claims there’s a built-in bias to compensate for what the Princess wears. I say there can’t be a built-in bias, because it would throw the calculations off whenever Alan uses the silo.”

Pidge folds his arms. “The bias isn’t added into the calculations for Alan, just for the Princess.”

Galen shakes his head at Pidge. “Then it can’t be a built-in bias, because if it was, the variable would be pre-loaded from the array every time no matter who used it.”

I arch an eyebrow at the two of them. “Now wait a minute...when a person uses one of the access silos, there’s adjustments made for the weight every time. It’s gotta do that, or my uniform would be too big on me since I lost all my excess baggage.”

Galen shakes his head. “You changed your size, Hunk, but not your mass. That’s not going to affect you as much as you think it would.”

“You sure about that, kiddo?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. I believe the computer does a full three-dimensional scan, and because of that, it can determine the distribution of weight, as well as the weight itself. Anything within the confines of the person’s individual contour is what it looks at, and it doesn’t matter what the person is wearing.”

Pidge points a finger at Galen. “Well, I do agree with that. But Blue Lion’s silo would still have to have a extra variable to work with, since the Princess has gone into the silo both with and without her gown. The extra fabric means extra weight, which would throw the equation off. That means there has to be some point where the computer makes an adjustment for that difference, otherwise the Princess’s uniform would come out too big for her, just like Hunk theorized about his own outfit.”

“No way. The computer’s sensors can determine where the body stops and the clothing begins. If it couldn’t do that precise a separation, then there’s no way it could make the clothing swap in the first place without taking a chunk of the person with it, maybe.”

“No, it’s probably more like the computer can differentiate between living and non-living material,” Pidge says.

“Hah! Gotcha! Then if it can do that, it can also determine the total weights of both the living and non-living material, and it doesn’t need any default at all.”

“All right, you guys are starting to give me a headache here,” I tell them. “What’s the point?”

“Well,” Galen says. “We need for the Princess to go through the silo once in her gown so we can prove which one of us is right.”

Pidge nods in agreement. “Call her and ask if she’ll do it when she gets back.”

“Wait just a minute. You mean to tell me that you want the princess to dress up in her gown and go to the shuttle just so you two can settle a bet?”

Pidge looks smug. “Yep. I want Galen to see what a loser he is.”

“No way, you dweeb.”

“Better a dweeb than a loser.”

“All right, already!” I frown at both of them. They blink back at me.

“C’mon, Hunk, just ask her,” Pidge gives me a pleading look.

“She can always say no,” Galen adds.

“Fine. I’m going to hail the princess for you, and then she can decide whether or not the two of you are nuts.” I open the channel to Blue Lion. Allura’s image comes up on the main screen as she answers the call. “Yes?”

“Princess, this is Hunk again. Pidge and Galen have a screwy bet going on over your dress, and they want to know if you can help them out with it.”

“What about my dress?”

“I think the silo trapeze makes a pre-adjusted calculation for it,” Pidge says.

“And I think he’s nuts,” Galen says.

Allura looks at me. I shrug back at her. She looks at Pidge and Galen. They promptly launch into the same explanation they gave me a little while ago. Allura listens to the debate politely, though it looks like she doesn’t have the foggiest idea of what they’re talking about.

“I guess I can do that real quick when I get back. I’ll have to put it on anyway because I have an important meeting to attend right after my patrol Will that be okay?”

Pidge breaks into a huge grin. “That’ll be perfect, princess.”

“All right, it’s settled. Is that all you need me for?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“Then I’m back to work. I’ll be calling in later, Hunk.”

“Thanks, princess.” I cut the transmission and look at Pidge and Galen. “Of all the goofy things...”

“What’s goofy?” Lance comes strolling into the command center, hands in pockets as usual. Pidge nearly jumps out of his skin. I glance at him, then I turn to Lance.

“The bet Pidge and Galen have over Princess Allura’s dress.”

Lance arches an eyebrow. “What about her dress?”

I give Pidge a nudge with my elbow. “Go ahead, tell him.”

Pidge starts to explain, but Lance holds up a hand. “This definitely sounds like it’s going to be a mega-geek thing. Spare me, please. And Hunk, I’ve got a message for you. Since the princess has a meeting today, Leila is going to be sitting in for her on watch while you’re out on patrol.”

“Okay, gotcha.”

“End of message. Ciao.” Lance waves in our general direction, then he heads back out of the room. Pidge watches him go with this really odd expression on his face. Then he looks at me. “Be sure and page me when the princess gets back, okay? Make sure. This is really important.”

“Ahh, right, squirt. You got it.”

Pidge nods to me, taps Galen on the shoulder and they both leave the room. Now that’s a real head-scratcher if ever there was one. The last time he looked that intense about something, he blew out the power on three floors of the northeast tower while trying to fire up his Tesla coil. Crazy kid. Sure hope he isn’t making any more trouble along those lines. But with Pidge you never know. I shrug to myself and settle back in the chair to wait for the princess’s next check-in call.

“Hello, Doctor Gorma...?” I poke my head around the edge of the open doorway. She turns away from the computer set up in the corner behind her desk to look at me.

“Oh, Lynne...hi. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if Dunkirk is allowed to have any visitors yet.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m pretty sure he’s awake. I saw at least one disgruntled-looking nurse going through the hall this morning.” She smiles at the pout that involuntarily crosses my lips. “Well, of all the mismatches I can think of, I never dreamed that my learned Professor friend would find herself all caught up with a rowdy Voltron pilot.”

“I’m not all caught up with him, Leslie, I just -”

“You just want revenge for the library incident, then.”

“The library incident? Where’d you hear about that?”

“Are you kidding me? The question you should really be asking is where didn’t I hear it? Nice little turn-about at the moat, by the way. That was shrewd. Very shrewd.”

“Thanks...I think.”

“Oh, come on, Lynne. You know I’m just teasing you. But I’m still surprised. Whatever happened to that dream of finding a nice, quiet archaeologist and setting up your own museum?”

“That was just...well, things change, you know.”

“So you’ve switched from wanting someone who searches through ruins to someone who helps to make them.”

“No, I - I’m just stopping by to see if he’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’m waiting to be swept off of my feet or anything.”

“You don’t have to. According to what I’ve heard, he’s already done that. Room seventy-three.”

“Someday, Leslie, you may find yourself falling for one of those rowdy Voltron pilots, and I hope I’m around to see it happen.”

“I doubt it. Dad gave me the father-and-daughter talk right after graduation. According to him they’re noble enough, but they’re also a bunch of hard-headed, trouble-making hoodlums, every last one of them. He seemed particularly adamant about me steering clear of Lance for some reason.” She shrugs. “I personally don’t know what the big deal is. For all that bravado, he still faints when he sees a needle.”

I press a hand to my mouth. “Oh, you’re kidding.”

“Nope, he’s already had his three strikes, and he was out every time. I had to switch to an air-injector for him.”

“Shannon will get a kick out of that. I can’t wait to tell her.”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

“I didn’t hear what?”

“Thank you.”

“And thank you.” I head down the hall. Dunkirk’s room is easy to locate because there’s a large cluster of balloons tied to the outer door handle and a get-well banner taped to the door itself. I rap lightly on the door and open it slightly to peek around it. “Hello...?”

He’s lying in bed in a pair of pajamas with little cartoon lion prints all over them. His mattress has been raised into a sitting position and a small TV resting on a swivel arm is hovering over his lap. He looks up as I step through the door.

“Hello, lass,” He pushes the TV aside, puts his hands behind his head and gives me a happy smile. “Time for me sponge bath, is it? I’m honored that ye chose t’ volunteer for th’ job. Feel free t’ start wherever ye think is appropriate.”

Rogue. Incorrigible, unrepentant rogue.

“I am not here to give you a sponge bath. I just wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all.” I sit in a chair next to the wall and fold my hands in my lap. He gives me a look of mild dismay.

“Ye donna have t’ sit all th’ way over there. I donna bite.”

I sigh to myself and pull the chair closer. He smiles again.

“That’s better. I’d like t’ thank ye for th’ visit, by th’ way. Gives a lift t’ me spirits.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply quietly and cast my gaze around the room to avoid meeting his for a moment. “I see you got the flowers I sent.” I get up and circle the bed to straighten the arrangement. I can feel his eyes following me as I go.

“Aye, flowers an’ balloons an’ all sorts o’ stuff. There’s a purple balloon in that bunch over there. Ye’re welcome t’ it if ye like. I did promise ye one, after all.”

I turn to look at him. He’s studying me with a quiet, even gaze. I fidget a little and fold my hands in front of me. “Umm, look...Dunkirk...I’m just stopping by on the way to work. I have to get to the library, okay? I’m already a little late.”

The slightest hint of a smile curls across his lips. “All right, Lynne, if ye need t’ go, I’m nae one t’ stop ye.”

I nod quickly at him. “You take care, all right?” I hurry out of the room before he can reply and head straight to the library to bury myself in the archival project.

The beeper on Pidge’s pager announces an incoming message. He studies the screen and smiles. “Hunk’s message. The princess is down at the command center and waiting for our arrival. This is it, my friend - time to put the last element in place. Let’s go!” He swats my arm and breaks into a run, racing the whole way to the command center. Hunk already has the platform raised and Allura is standing patiently beside her silo.

“Okay, we’re here!” He yells up at Hunk. “But you have to drop the platform as soon as she goes through so I can check the information before the system resets.”

“Gotcha, squirt,” Hunk calls back. Allura smiles at Pidge.

“I think this will be interesting, actually. What is it for?”

“Umm...I’m working on a little project involving precision transfer of data. Observing this process will help me fine-tune some of the coding I’m working on.”

“Oh, I see. You’re going to tell us what happens when it’s done, right?”

Pidge smiles. “Actually, everyone should have an opportunity to witness the results when I’m finished, princess.”

“Okay. Let’s get going, then. My meeting starts in ten minutes.” She looks up at Hunk. “All clear up there?”

“All clear, princess. Go ahead.”

Allura hops into the silo. Pidge waits patiently for Hunk to lower the platform, then we both rush over to the console. Pidge is almost sitting in Hunk’s lap as he starts typing furiously. I lean over Pidge’s shoulder to watch as he works. A frighteningly long equation fills the screen. Pidge squints at it, makes a face.

“Damn,” he mutters. “There is no pre-loaded compensation for the gown after all.”

I swing both hands up into the air. “You lose, Pidge-meister! Ha! That will be two hundred credits, payable in full, thank you very much.”

Pidge sulks off of the platform. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Rub it in, goober.”

“That’s a wrap, I take it,” Hunk says to us. “The bet’s over?”

“Yeah,” Pidge says, and sulks his way out of the room. Hunk gives Allura the message to return as I follow Pidge through the door. We reach the end of the hall and make our first turn before he gets this wicked sort of smile on his face that even Lotor could appreciate.

“Mission accomplished, my friend. Lance’s doom has been sealed.”

“Dude, he is going to have a fit.”

“I’ll say he is. His waistline is a lot thicker than the princess’s and he’s taller, so I imagine the skirt wouldn’t quite touch the floor...”

“But the computer should adjust for that, remember? That’s what the personal ID is for, to let the computer alter the clothing to fit the person properly”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replies, then his eyes suddenly get huge and he grips my arm hard. “Galen...Galen...!”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“I think...oh, man...yes, yes it will...!”

“What? Will you just tell me?”

“Galen...” He turns to face me completely and takes hold of both of my shoulders. “Lance will be wearing everything the princess normally wears. Do you realize what that means?”

I shake my head at him. “No, I don’t see what…oh, wait - all the clothes get switched, because the underwear that comes with the uniform is military issue. So when he gets the dress...”

Pidge nods rapidly. “He gets everything that’s under the dress, too.”

“Oh, duuude...!” I clap a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing.

“This is so going to rule. I haven’t pulled a major stunt like this since the time I re-wired the launch bay to make Keith’s shuttle go to Blue Lion. This will definitely top that one.”

All I can do is nod at him. I’m afraid to take my hand away because I know I’ll start laughing really, really loud the moment I do, and Hunk might overhear it. Pidge drapes an arm around my shoulders to walk me away.

“Hello, Alan.” Allura gives me a smile as she enters the intersection just before the turn leading to the meeting hall. “How are you?”

“Fine, princess. And you?”

She gives a little sigh. “I’m not sure. I don’t think Keith’s going to take part in the contest after all.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he was really upset the other evening because Dexter claimed that if he entered the contest, he’d win automatically because I’m sponsoring it. And even after I approved his idea of keeping the entries anonymous, he didn’t seem very enthused about participating. As a matter of fact, he’s been treating the whole thing lightly from the very beginning. I think it may have been a mistake to do this.”

“Not necessarily. Even if Keith doesn’t participate, you’ll still have a nice little event going on for people in the castle to get involved in. That’s always a good thing regardless.”

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t advance our little debate one bit.”

“We can always find another way to test him. How about a singing contest, karaoke style?”

“No, Keith doesn’t sing. Not that I’ve ever heard, anyway. I’m pretty certain of that.” She raises a hand to her mouth and chews on her finger. I arch an eyebrow at her.

“Hangnail,” she says and continues to chew. I pull her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that. Dexter does it all the time, and it drives me nuts.” I bring her hand close to my face to get a better look. “Don’t you have a Mister Clippy to take care of it?”

“A what...?”

The door at the end of the hall to our left opens suddenly and Coran halts in mid-step to blink at us. “Allura...? You’re running a bit late for your meeting, princess.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” She excuses herself, pulls her hand away and starts down the hall. Coran gives me a funny look as she passes him to enter the room, then he goes in himself and closes the door behind him. I resume my walk to the recreation room.

“So how come Dexter and his team get all that action their first official day on the job, but the moment we take the helm, I get to count the number of dust specks on my display screen?”

“Nothing is a good thing, Lance. I personally would rather not have two visits from Hagar in the same week. Or the same month, or the same year, as a matter of fact.”

“Keith, you’re turning into a real scaredy-cat in your old age. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I am not becoming a scaredy-cat. I’d just like for all the peace and quiet we’ve been enjoying to last for as long as possible. I know something’s going to be happening soon, though, because Lotor’s been trying to squeeze more production out of his lazon mines on Marlowe. That means he’s gearing up for an attack very, very soon.”

“I guess that also means we should keep cheering for the rebels, then. They really have been giving him a lot of trouble there. It’s like milk - does my body good.”

“But that plague Hagar mentioned was legitimate, too. I just read about it in the news. It started about eight hours ago, and the Grand Chancellor of Adal is already negotiating surrender of the slaves who started the revolt. What do you think would happen if Hagar pulled that same stunt on Marlowe?”

“If she could have, then she would have gone after Marlowe first. They need to crush the resistance there before they do it anywhere else. Lotor’s got planets all through his empire trying to stage uprisings because of them. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet you any money that Adal will give it another shot later on down the road. Watch and see.”

“You could be right about that.”

“Sure I am. I’m always right, remember? So, what’s your entry for the poetry contest going to be like?”

“I doubt I’m going to make an entry, Lance. Poetry requires a very specific sort of dreamer to make the kind of observations that style of writing requires, and I gave up dreaming like that a long time ago.”

“Hogwash. I know you’ve still got it in you. You just keep it hidden under that thick veneer of yours. Remember that this is me you’re talking to, and you can’t fool me. If nothing else, just do it as therapeutic thing. What can it hurt?”

“My reputation. That’s what it can hurt.”

“Aww, gee. I’m sure once people find out that you write poems they’ll just walk up to you in the halls and hug you because they’ll see you for that warm, fuzzy soul you really are.”

“Lance, I’m serious. A leader that isn’t perceived as being tough will command a lot less respect from the ranks. It’s a proven fact.”

“Keith, for crying out loud...listen to me for a minute, will you?”

“I’m listening.”

“The whole reason behind this contest is because Allura wants to see if you’ll get inspired to write a poem for her.”

“Damn it - Dexter was right, it’s going to be rigged!”

“No, it - just shut up and listen, will you? She had this discussion in the cafeteria with Alan, Tasia and me at the beginning of the week. All she really wants is to see if you’d actually write something nice for her. She’s not really concerned with you winning the contest or not, as long as you just write something.”

“Wait a minute...you mean to tell me that she’s going to all this trouble because she wants a poem from me and me alone?”

“Like she could get it out of you any other way...?”

“You know what? That’s...that’s almost devious.”

“Well guess what? Our sweet little Ally is capable of being very, very devious when she sets her mind to it. If you weren’t always so damn clueless where she’s concerned, you’d see it coming every time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember yesterday, down in the shuttle bay? She hopped down, you caught her, and there you were, perfectly aligned for a lip-lock. Do you really think that was an accident?”

“Well, I did have my doubts...”

“There was no doubt, you idiot. She was watching you out of the corner of her eye, and she deliberately acted like she might fall to make you move in close. Then she paused long enough to gauge the distance right before she jumped. Come on, Keith. She’s been getting in and out of that shuttle for nearly as long as the rest of us have. She could do it with her eyes shut. But this time she just happens to stumble and fall, right into your arms. Do you get it now, or do I need a two by four?”

“Lance...come on, she was tired. All of us were.”

“Did you stumble when you landed?”

“No.”

“Did I?”

“Negative.”

“What about Hunk?”

“Lance, that means that she was deliberately trying to get a kiss from me! That’s not - she shouldn’t be thinking like that!”

“Well, she shouldn’t be sucking on her finger and giving you suggestive looks either, but that didn’t stop her from doing it, now did it?”

“Well that, that was...naughty. Very naughty of her.”

“Needed to take a cold shower when you got back to your room, didn’t you?”

“No,” I snarl at him. “If I’d had that problem I could have just gone around to the front lawn of the orphanage and thrown myself in the fountain.”

“No, you couldn’t. Your jumpsuit isn’t waterproof.”

“I still owe you for that.”

“No, you threw that glop of icing at me, remember?”

“Oh yeah...guess that makes it even for now.”

“Quite...so, how about that poetry contest? You gonna give a try?”

“Maybe. And that’s my final answer.”

“You really are a grump. Do I need to sing the tomorrow song to you again?”

“You do, and I swear I’ll jump into Black Lion and chase you halfway across the planet if I have to...”

“The sun’ll come out, tomorrow...bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow...there’ll be sun...”

I snap off the channel, fold my arms and wait for a few moments. Then I snap it back on again.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow -”

I shut down the channel again. Pidge enters the command center with Galen right behind him. They both have huge smiles on their faces.

“Hi, Keith,” Pidge says. “All ready to take next shift. Lance is on his way back in, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he should be arriving any minute now.”

“That’s great. I can hardly wait.”

“And why is that?”

Pidge shrugs. “Just...because.”

“Umm...okay.” I glance at Galen. He shrugs too.

“This is Red Lion,” Lance says. “I’m making the final approach to base.”

“Roger, Red Lion, you’re logged out at thirteen hundred hours on the dot.”

“Damn, I’m good.”

I glance at Pidge and Galen. They have their gaze fixed on the lift doors. I tap Pidge on the shoulder. “Pidge...hello?”

He blinks at me like I’ve just snapped him out of a trance. “Huh...?”

“I’m ready to take next turn at patrol. You’re at the controls.”

“Oh...yeah.” He sits down at the console and immediately turns his attention to the lift doors again. I turn and look that way myself. I don’t see anything out of the norm. Then the light over the door blinks, announcing that the lift has reached this level. Pidge and Galen both hold their breath at the exact same time. I don’t get it...

Then the doors open and Lance strolls into the room, hands tucked in his pockets, whistling the ‘Tomorrow’ song as he goes. Pidge and Galen suddenly look like a pair of kids who have been waiting all year for Santa Claus, only to find nothing beneath the tree on Christmas morning. Then confusion replaces their disappointment as they exchange looks with each other. Lance stops just short of the platform and looks at all of us.

“What?” He looks himself over, then he turns to study the empty space behind him. “What am I missing here?”

“Nothing...” Pidge gets a deeply puzzled frown and whispers something to Galen. Galen promptly hurries off. Lance looks at me. I shrug at him, then I look at Pidge. “Pidge...? I’m ready to go to Black Lion now.”

“Oh yeah, right.” He raises the silo and I head on my way.

“Black Lion to Castle Control, I’m ready for launch.”

“Castle Control here, all systems are go, you’re clear for launch.”

Black Lion leaps off its platform and launches skyward. Lance waits for me to log in the affirmation before he rests a hand on the console and gets right in my face.

“All right, you little geekazoid, you. What’s going on here? What did you do, try to stick a holographic ‘kick me’ sign on my back or something?”

I study him quietly for a moment. Best to let him think he’s right than to argue and arouse his suspicions. Lance has a gut instinct that’s more accurate than a laser-guided missile. The last thing I need is for him to start wondering what I’ve been up to.

“Yeah, you’re right. You got me. The coordinates must have been off. Better luck next time, I guess.”

He gives a smug little laugh as he heads toward the door. “Maybe you ought to get Shannon to change your luck for you. It worked for Keith.”

I turn in the chair. “What was that?”

Lance pauses at the doorway. “I said, let Shannon change your luck for you like she did for Keith.”

“How’d Shannon change Keith’s luck?”

“Simple. She added a dummy record ahead of Keith’s to change his number from thirteen to fourteen. It’ll never get used, so nobody else’ll get stuck with that number either.”

I distinctly feel my heart skip a beat. “She changed the - when did she do that?”

“She did it when she was updating the new uniform records. She mentioned it while I has helping her do a final test run the other day. I’m surprised you didn’t come down to watch her do it. That’s right up your alley.” He turns and disappears through the door. Galen arrives with my laptop tucked under his arm a moment later. He has a look of concern on his face as he hands it over.

“Pidge, dude...you have no color whatsoever in your face.”

“I’mintrouble.”

“What?”

“I’m...in...trouble.”

“Why...?”

“Shannon put a default record in front of Keith’s to shift it down one place. Do the math, it’s simple.”

His eyes get huge. “Keith’s record is number fourteen now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When Keith comes back to the castle, he’s going to wind up in the Princess’s gown.”

“Yep.”

“And he’s out there on patrol now, so you only have that much time to break into the program again, find the altered file, find the file you sent his information to, and swap them back.”

I nod slowly. “That’s right.”

“Wait, can’t you just change a few lines of code in your subroutine, re-load the program and have it switch the buffers back?”

“Yes, but I still have to hack into the system to upload it after I make all the changes, and that’ll take time...” I draw a deep, calming breath. “Galen?”

“What?”

“If I don’t pull this off, I left you my laptop in my will, all right? Promise me you’ll take good care of it.”

“Dude...I’ve been your partner in crime this whole time. We go down together.”

“No. You have to survive to take care of the laptop. You’re the only one I trust with it. Understand?” I take it from his hands and flip the top open. “Now get going. Go hang out in the sitting room or something. I don’t want you here if I goof up.”

Galen looks miserable as he steps down from the platform. He heads for the door slowly and turns back just as he reaches the exit. “Leila’s coming down for next watch. Maybe you could duck behind her. Keith doesn’t hit girls.”

“Yeah, but we both know how fast he is. He could just dodge around her and grab me. Don’t worry about it, just get going.”

Galen salutes me and leaves. I crack my knuckles and set to work.

“Excuse me, Hunk...? Leila raps on the doorway of the shop to get my attention. I shut the torch off and raise my mask to look around at her. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m a little nervous about pulling watch down at Castle Control. I was wondering if you could give me an idea of what to expect.”

“Aww, it’s no big deal. Seriously. You call up a pre-flight check to make sure the Lion’s launch area is functional and secure, then when the pilot prepares for takeoff, you give the all clear, do a manual confirmation...here, tell you what. Why don’t we go down a little early, and you can try a dry run on the set-up? Pidge is down there now, and he usually plays with his laptop half the time while he’s on duty, so he won’t care if you take the chair for a little bit.”

She looks pretty happy with my suggestion. “Really? You’re sure Pidge wouldn’t mind?”

“Nahh, it’ll be no problem. Gimme a couple of minutes to clean up, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay.” She takes a look around the area. “What’s with all the Doom robots? There’s almost enough here to build your own army.”

“Not really. They’re all broken in one way or another. Me, Dunny and Pidge have been trying to compile information on how they work so we can put one whole robot together, but so far we haven’t been able to restore one completely.” I point out one that’s strapped to a table. “That one’s about ninety-nine percent complete, but we haven’t been able to salvage an AI chip yet.”

She walks over to the table cautiously and pokes its arm with a finger. “Why would you want it to work in the first place?”

“Well, if we knew how they process information, we might be able to figure out a way to reprogram them. Remember, these guys make up about thirty percent of Lotor’s forces. If we could turn them docile, he’d lose one third of his total troop strength.”

“Makes sense when you look at it that way.”

“Yep, sure does.” I hold up my hands. “All clean. You ready to go?”

“Sure.”

“Are you going to write a poem for the contest?” She asks as we step into the hall and I turn to lock the door.

“I might. I figure why the heck not. Maybe I got a hidden talent.”

She breaks into a big smile. “The Harem Girls think you already do, but it has nothing to do with poetry.”

“Harem Girls? You talking about Shanny, Lynne and Caro?”

She nods. “Isn’t that what you call them?”

“No. I call them Shanny, Lynne and Caro.”

“Then where did the name come from?”

“Lance. Who else?”

“But I imagine your evenings get pretty interesting from time to time.”

“What do you mean?”

She rolls her eyes, taps her finger on her chin. “You know...three girls, one guy…”

I feel my cheeks get red. “What’s the big deal with that? Dunny was making the same accusation the other day. Where do people get that idea?”

“Well, they’re all really, really fond of you, and...” She pauses to look me over. “There’s enough of you to go around, according to the rumor I heard.”

“Okay, let me set the record straight on this. The gals like me, I like them, we’re all good friends, I haven’t laid a hand on any of them, and if I ever decided to, it would only be one, and if they insisted on, on...” My face is getting really warm. Time to drop the subject. “Look, you just go tell whoever it is you gossip with that I ain’t that kinda guy. Okay?”

She looks taken aback. “Sorry...”

“It’s okay. No problem.”

Pidge is playing with his laptop, just like I figured, when we get to the command center. He’s so into what he’s doing that he doesn’t even notice us come in. I walk up to the chair and lean around to get a look at the display. Hope he’s not uploading girlie pictures or anything.

“Heya, squirt. What’s -”

“Ahhhh - !” He almost leaps straight up from the chair and his hands fly all over to catch his computer and keep it from hitting the floor. He clutches it to himself with eyes so huge I feel bad for scaring him. “What? What is it? What do you want?”

“Uhh, Leila here just wanted to come down a little early to have a look-see at the console. That okay with you?”

He slowly relaxes his grip on his computer and looks down at it. Then he gives a heavy sigh. “Sure, fine. Go ahead.”

“You okay, squirt? What’s the matter?”

He studies me for a moment. “Do you like me, Hunk?”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Sure, I like you. You’re like a kid brother to me. Why?”

“Good. Remember that when I have to duck behind you.”

“Duck behind me for what?”

He just gives his head a shake and clutches at the laptop again as he slowly rises from the chair and walks down the steps of the platform. He looks dazed all of a sudden. Leila asks me what’s wrong very quietly. I shrug at her and motion to the chair. She sits down in it and I start with the directions.

Allura is in the sitting room with Dexter, Tasia, Galen, and...Dunkirk! It looks like he’s recovered nicely from his encounter with Hagar. As a matter of fact, I think he’s relating the details to the rest of the group. I pause by the doorway to listen.

“...so then I handed her th’ piece o’ cake, an’ I said, ‘Aye, that’ll sweeten yer disposition for ye.’. An’ I gave her a wink -”

Galen looks ill. “Ewwww, Dunny...you winked at Hagar? That’s gross.”

Dunkirk looks put out. “Well, I certainly didna know that she was th’ real thing, or I guarantee ye that I wouldna have winked at her, much less shake her hand an’ introduce meself. Th’ only thing she’d have seen o’ me was me rapidly-retreatin’ backside, ye can be sure o’ that.”

Tasia shakes her head. “Dunny, I cannot get over how damn lucky you were. She could have blown your fool head clean off your shoulders for you.”

Dexter shakes his head and shrugs. “She said on that note she left behind that she liked the cake, and that’s why she didn’t do it. So the idea worked, if only this once.” Then he glances my way. “Hey, Lance. Come on in - we’re getting the lowdown on Dunkirk’s personal Hagar sighting.”

I’m not sure how to react to his invitation. I was the one who suggested the idea to Keith in the first place, so for all intents and purposes most of what transpired that day was my fault. But I’m sure Keith explained that by now. And if any of them are holding a grudge, they’re doing a really good job of hiding it. My gut alarm isn’t going off in any case, so I suppose it’s okay to join the group.

I walk in and take a seat beside Allura on her left. Dexter gives me a really funny look for some reason, then he takes note of all the extra space on my left. What, does he think I’m sitting too close to Allura or something? Tough if he is. Wait, now he’s looking at Tasia, Galen and Dunkirk, or, rather, the part of the couch they’re sitting on. Then he looks back at me again.

“Lance, who sits there normally?” He nods toward the space on my left.

“Whoever feels like sitting there. You don’t see any name plaques, do you?”

“I’m serious. Who would sit there if your whole team were here?”

Tasia rolls her eyes. “Here we go again...”

I blink at Tasia, then I look back at Dexter. “I guess Keith would, if -”

“Aha, Keith would sit there. And who would sit beside him?”

I shrug at him. “Whoever. What’s the big deal?”

Dexter leans toward me a little. Whatever point he’s trying to make, if the expression on his face is any indication, he’s dead serious about it. “Think about it, Lance, for just a minute. Who sits beside Keith when he sits beside you? I’m talking with everyone here - Hunk, Pidge, Keith, you and the princess. The whole team.”

“I think Pidge sits beside Keith, doesn’t he?” Allura says.

“And Hunk sits beside Pidge, last of all.”

“Yes...yes, I think that’s right.”

Dexter springs to his feet and points a finger at his team members. “Aha! There, you see? I knew it!”

Allura looks at me, I look at her. We both turn to look at Dexter. As a matter of fact, he has a captive audience. The room is absolutely quiet with all eyes on him.

“Dexter,” Tasia says with a sigh, “will you please sit down and cut all that nonsense before somebody hauls you down to Medical so you can take a pill?”

“But it’s true, it’s true! Look, right there is your evidence, the princess just said so!”

“Dexter…” I say to him after a long internal debate with myself about his sanity, “what are you talking about?”

“We’re the Voltron Force, are we not?”

“Last time I looked, we were.”

“And you know how Voltron is arranged, of course. Blue right leg, red right arm, black torso, green left arm, yellow left leg.”

“Yes, I do. Now’s here’s a question for you. Is there a going to be a pop quiz on this, and if I get all the answers right, do I get a cookie?”

Everyone snickers but Dexter, who remains standing there with his index finger pointed in the air and a look of consternation on his face. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I most certainly am.”

“Then you don’t see it either, I take it.”

I shake my head. “’Fraid not.”

“Okay, then allow me to explain. There’s Tasia, here on my right. Galen is sitting on my left, and right beside him is Dunkirk. And if Alan were here, he would plunk himself down on Tasia’s right. That’s the Lion formation, people style.”

“Yeah...so?”

“So, they always do it. Always. There’s never been a time, since the time we all got together as a team, that I haven’t seen them do it that way. And if what you and the princess just told me is right, then your team does the same thing, sitting in formation. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit freaky?”

“There are things much freakier than that, Dexter...” I fold my hands in my lap and trail off meaningfully. Tasia catches it first and laughs long and hard. Galen and Dunkirk pick up on it and chuckle as well. Dexter gives me a tight little smile.

“Ha, ha. Point taken.”

“Good. Now sit down and let Dunkirk finish his story, why don’t you?”

Dexter plops down on the couch again. Tasia is still giggling. Dexter gives her a nudge.

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” He gives her an exaggerated pout. She arches an eyebrow at him.

“Picklepuss.” She taps the end of his nose. Dexter grins at her. Dunkirk resumes his tale.

“That’s it, Leila - the whole process in a nutshell. Wanna give it another try?”

“No, I think I’m okay now.” She gives me a smile. “Thanks, Hunk, for the help.”

“You’re welcome. Now as soon as Keith gets back, I’ll be heading out in Yellow Lion and you get to do it for real.” A pulsing light at the corner of my vision catches my eye. “See that light, there, in the middle of that row of five? It means the Chief’s shuttle is back in dock. Keith should be on his way up any second.”

I hear a soft whimper behind me. Pidge hasn’t moved. He’s still standing by the platform with his back to the main display, clutching his laptop.

“Pidge...?”

“Ahhh - !” He nearly leaps out of his skin as he spins to face me. He looks really pale. “What? What is it? What do you want?”

“What the heck has gotten into you, little guy?”

“Hunk,” Leila tugs my sleeve. “When is that light supposed to go out?”

“Huh...?” I look back at the console. “Well, it shoulda gone out as soon as Keith left the shuttle. I’m pretty sure, anyhow. That’s what it usually does...here, lemme have the chair for a second, willya?”

She gets out of the chair and I call up the shuttle bay diagnostics. Nothing’s out of place; the readout tells me the reason for the light blinking is that the shuttle is still occupied. Keith just hasn’t gotten out of it yet for some reason. I sit and watch the light for a few minutes more. Still nothing. Wonder if he’s all right. I open a channel to the shuttle.

“Hey Chief, you there?”

About a minute goes by before I get a reply. “Yeah, Hunk, I’m here.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You coming upstairs?”

I get another pause. “Call Shannon down to the command center, will you please?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I have reason to believe that there’s a glitch in the uniform transfer software.”

Pidge whimpers again. I glance around at him for a second, then I turn back to the console. “What kinda glitch?”

Another pause. “Will you just call Shannon, please?”

“Okay...” I dial Shannon’s page number. She shows up in her coveralls with a multimeter still in her hand. She looks at Pidge, mouths ‘what’s with him’ at me. I give her a shrug as she walks up to the console. The shuttle light gets her attention immediately. She tucks the multimeter in her pocket and leans over my shoulder.

“What’s going on in the shuttle bay?”

“I dunno. Keith’s still down there, he won’t come upstairs, and he hasn’t told me why yet. He just said to page you.”

“Okay...can I have the chair?”

“Sure.” I get up and walk over to Pidge. He’s still frozen to the spot, looking like he could pass out at any moment. I rest my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. He just shakes his head and looks miserable. Maybe I’m not Lance, but I am getting the feeling that there’s some kind of connection here.

“Hello, Keith,” Shannon says cheerfully. “This is Shannon. What’s up?”

“Shannon, I believe there’s a problem with the uniform transfer process. A funny thing happened on the way back from Black Lion.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, because I need to know what the problem is before I can try to fix it.”

There’s another pause. “I’ll be right up.”

“Okay.” Shannon looks around at me, then her gaze falls on Pidge and she seems to be pondering something. In the meantime, the lift doors slide open. Everyone turns to look.

Keith steps out of the lift, and I have to do a double-take. Yeah, that’s Allura’s dress he’s wearing, all right, and he’s carrying a pair of high heels in his hand, crossing the floor in his bare feet. He’s staring at the shoes the whole time he’s walking, and when he gets to the platform, he sets them down of the edge of it.

“Must be like ice skates,” he mutters. “Ankle over the support point or something...” He gives a sigh, turns to Shannon, gathers up a handful of the skirt, lets it drop.

“As I was saying, I have good reason to believe that there’s something wrong with the uniform transfer program.”

Shannon looks at me, I look at her, and we both bust out laughing. Leila blinks, the corner of her mouth trembles, then she claps a hand over it. Keith looks around at her. She points toward the doorway with her free hand.

“Bathroom, have to go to the bathroom!” She turns and runs for the door, giggling through her hand as she goes. Keith taps a finger on the console and patiently waits for me and Shannon to stop laughing.

“Any theories as to how this may have happened?” He asks once we pause to catch our breath. Shannon shakes her head.

“How about a wild guess?” Keith asks. “Got any of those?”

“None at all, Keith. There was obviously some kind of mix-up between your record and the princess’s, but I have no idea of how it could have happened, because it implies that only pieces of the records were switched. The uniform program simply doesn’t work that way unless it’s done manually. Let me bring up the diagnostics and take a look.” She starts working her way through the access menu. A connection is made in the part of my head that isn’t busy trying to keep my gut from busting, and I look at Pidge. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea of what happened, do ya squirt?”

“Oh, no.” Shannon stops in the middle of her typing and turns to look at him too. “Pidge...you did it, didn’t you? You got into the system and changed things around.”

“Pidge?” Keith doesn’t look the least bit amused. He walks around the platform to stand in front of him. “You did this...? Pidge, look at me. Were you responsible for this?”

Pidge opens one eye to look at Keith, then the other. Color races back into his face, then he shakes his head ‘no’, nods ‘yes’ and swallows tightly.

“Uh-huh,” he says finally, in a tiny voice. “I did it. But...I didn’t mean to, not for you - it was for Lance! Honest! He was supposed to be record fourteen, I didn’t know it got changed until he told me, and I was going to fix it, I tried to fix it! I swear I was! I - I...guess I should have had the subroutine check the personal ID code for the right record...and, umm...I’m...sorry.”

“I see,” Keith says quietly. He’s awfully calm for a guy who’s all decked out in pink against his will. “First of all, I’m going to go back through the shuttle to get my real clothes, and after that we’re going to a little talk to discuss your punishment. All right?”

“Keith, that’s not a good idea - going through the silo right now, that is,” Shannon says. “Not while there’s a problem with the program. Something worse could happen.”

Keith glances down at himself, then he looks up at her. “Shannon, I’m standing here dressed in Allura’s clothing. How could it possibly be worse?”

“You could have wound up naked.”

“I think I would have preferred that to my current situation.”

“I can’t say that I blame you, really. You just don’t have the right figure for that dress.”

Keith blinks at her. Shannon gives him a flash of a cheesy grin, then she returns her face back to normal, just like she’s got some sort of smile switch in her head that lets her turn it on and off, that quick. Keith begins to laugh in spite of himself.

“Seriously, though,” she continues. “I really don’t want to risk subjecting you to the process right now. Not until I can weed out any and all changes that have been made to it.”

“The program’s okay, Shannon,” Pidge says. The module I wrote was just designed to attach itself to the system, switch the buffers and then remove itself when done. Everything should be back to normal now.”

“Maybe, but what you just described sounds suspiciously virus-like in character, and the main system is very likely to have made that same interpretation and tried to repair or remove any files it perceived as being infected by your program.”

“Ooh. I didn’t even think of that.”

“I didn’t think you did either, or I doubt you would have done any tampering in the first place, right?”

Pidge gives Keith a quick glance. “Right.”

“And that’s why I want to check and make absolutely certain that the alterations you made are gone and the system is back to normal. When it comes to things like this, you can’t be too careful.” She looks at Keith. “I’ll do a thorough file comparison to make sure things are intact, and then I’ll replace whatever’s been damaged. After all that is done, we’ll give it a shot. How’s that?”

Keith sighs, puffs at his bangs. “All right, tell you what. You check the system and I’m going back to my room to change my clothes while you do. I...really...need to get out of this outfit. Some parts of it are much less comfortable than others. Excuse me.” He turns and heads of the exit.

“Uhh, Chief?”

He stops without turning back. “Yes, Hunk?”

“You forgot your pumps.”

“Oh. Right.” He doubles back, picks them up, resumes his walk. Shannon and I both look at Pidge. He cringes a little.

“Yeah, I know...I’m dead.”

Shannon nods. “Yes, sweetie, I’m afraid you are. But in the meantime, Keith is gone so now you can get all your laughter out of your system.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Pidge and his tinkering. For crying out loud. It’s a good thing I know the low-traffic corridors in this castle as well as I do. I can just imagine what Lance would have to say if he saw me like this. Or Allura. Oh man, what would I do if Allura saw me right now? I think I’d die. Sure, everyone in the command center can gossip after the fact, but hearing about it won’t carry the same impact as seeing the actual thing. And I absolutely, positively do not want anyone else to see me like this if I can help it. Especially not Allura.

Come to think of it, I’d better not look any of the security cameras straight in the lens either. I lower my head and rely on my peripheral vision as I pause to check for people in the halls as I go. Good thing you’ve got that trick mastered, eh, Keith? Never realized how handy it would be for a time when you wound up in Allura’s dress and had to sneak through back hallways, did you?

Unfortunately, I reach a point where I have to pass by everyone’s favorite sitting room before I can reach the stairwell in the tower at the end of the hall. And of course, I hear voices in there. It figures. But it sounds like Lance and Dexter are in a serious debate, so I doubt either one of them is looking toward the door right now. Okay Keith, take a deep breath, dash past the doorway on the count of three. One, two...

“Dexter, what’s the big deal, anyway? Who cares who stands beside who in what formation?”

“I never said it was important, Lance. I just said it was odd, and all I’m trying to do is point that oddness out to everyone else. Think about it. You yourself just admitted that you’re most likely to find yourself standing directly to Keith’s right when you’re around him.”

“Well, I am supposed to be his right hand man, you know. It’s not just a pun, it’s an adventure.”

“Okay, so what about when -” Dexter cuts the sentence short and snaps his head around to study the doorway. He frowns, rubs at his chin, looks at Allura, looks toward the doorway again.

“Dexter, what’s the matter with you now?” Tasia looks like she’s about ready to drag him down to the medical bay for that pill after all.

“I think I just saw the princess’s gown go by the door.”

Dunkirk gets a look on his face that indicates he’ll be glad to lend Tasia a hand if she does decide to take Dexter to Medical. “An’ how d’ye figure that, seein’ as how th’ princess is sittin’ right over there?”

“The princess is there, yes, but her gown just went by in the hall. I don’t know how to figure it, but that is what I saw. I’m sure of it”

I lean forward in my seat. “And how do you know it’s the princess’s gown, Dexter?”

“Because every time I see it, I think of that cartoon with the two fairies in it that keep turning the dress from pink to blue, pink, blue, pink, blue. So that dress went by, and that’s what I thought - about the movie - and I wondered why the princess was in such a hurry, but then I also realized that she’s here. So who’s wearing her dress?”

Allura looks at me. I shake my head and get to my feet.

“Dexter...I swear you’re one hundred percent certifiable.” I cross the floor to the doorway and poke my head out into the hall. I look to my right, see nothing, look left and I spot a dark-haired girl with her back to me, in the process of opening the door that leads to the tower stairwell. She’s got Allura’s dress on, all right, and she’s carrying a pair of high-heeled shoes in her hand. I’ll be damned...

“Hey, you!” I yell at the girl. “What are you doing? Where are you going with the princess’s dress?”

Her response is to startle at my words, dash through the door and start up the steps in a hurry. I hear whispering back and forth in the room as I step completely into the hallway and sprint down the hall posthaste to catch up with the would-be thief.

“Lance, what’s going on? Who is it?” Dexter yells after me.

I slow down my steps to yell over my shoulder. “I don’t know who it is, but you were right - she’s got the gown on, and she’s trying to run with it! I’m going after her!” I throw the door open when I reach it and take the steps two at a time. She’s got a good lead on me by about two floors, though, and she’s keeping it easily. She must be a runner or something. Most girls I know can’t move that fast.

“Hey!” I yell up at her. “Hey! Stop!”

She doesn’t stop, and she certainly doesn’t slow down. But I am gaining on her. I see a flash of pink dart through the door on the floor just above me. She’s made a left turn just off the stairwell. I do the same as I throw the door open. She sprints straight down the hall, then she half-stumbles to a stop in front of a door and frantically pokes at the keypad. I catch up to her before she can get the door open. She keeps her back to me and throws her hands up to cover her face.

“Okay, lady...” I pause for a second to recover my breath. “Look...the princess is a very generous person. You don’t need to steal things from her. I’m sure she would have lent you the gown if you had to have it that badly.”

“I didn’t steal it! Go away!” She exclaims in a squawky little voice. Sounds like she’s got a cold or something. But she shouldn’t be able to run like that if she’s sick. And she looks healthy enough. As a matter of fact, she looks kinda...solid. Not a lot of curves to this gal. Maybe that’s why she had to have something pink, to make her look a little more feminine.

“Come on, let’s be real here. That’s the princess’s gown, and I know she didn’t give you permission to wear it, so the only reason for you to have it is if you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal it!” She insists again.

“Okay, then explain yourself. I’m listening.”

She sighs, lowers her hands and turns to look at me. Hey, that’s no lady, it’s -

“Keith!” I take a moment to look him over. The very idea of him standing here, decked out in royal pink frills, is so outrageous that I think my laughter mechanism has overloaded to the point where it’s shorted out altogether. “Umm...”

He folds his arms and frowns. “There is an explanation for this.”

“Sure there is. Either you’ve finally decided to get in touch with your feminine side, or your infatuation with Allura has definitely taken a turn for the worst.”

He purses his lips, huffs out a sigh. “Pidge did it. He changed some things around in the uniform program and now here I am, all pretty in pink. And, I might add, this was originally meant for you, thank you very much.”

“Me? What did I ever do to Pidge?”

“I have no idea, but whatever it was, I sure wish you’d apologize for it. I don’t know how many more of his revenge pranks I care to get caught up in.”

“Hmm...you gotta admit that this one’s a real doozy, though.” I look him over for a moment. “So, umm...are you, umm...are you wearing everything of the princess’s...? Like, do you have on her...underwear, even?”

He rolls his eyes. “How did I just know you were going to ask that?”

“I’m an inquiring mind, that’s why. So...do you?”

He shifts from foot to foot. “Must be...the texture is a lot smoother than briefs - silky is what they feel like, to be honest - but they’re way, way too tight. And I just had to race up six flights of stairs in them because of you!” He smacks my arm hard. “I’ve got chafing from hell going on here! What’s the deal with raising all that ruckus in the first place?”

“You can thank ol’ Eagle-Eye Dexter for that one. You taught him well. He saw you when you ran past the door.”

“Wonderful. Remind me to give him his merit badge next time I see him.”

“Say, what kind of bra does Allura wear underneath that?” I tug at the collar of the dress and attempt a peek. Keith slaps my hand. I yank it back.

“Hands off, you pervert!” He snarls at me.

“I’m the pervert? Might I point out that I’m not the one sporting the lingerie royale right at this moment?”

I get another solid smack to the arm for my trouble. I clutch at it and back away. “Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system. You know, you hit pretty hard for a guy in a dress.”

“Arrgghhh...!” He charges at me at and begins to pound on me in earnest. Now my laughter mechanism has recovered, and I begin to guffaw in earnest. This spurs him to hit me even harder, which in turn makes me laugh even harder. I lose my balance and fall, clutching at my aching sides and fighting to breathe. I’m laughing that damn hard. He goes right after me, pounding on my uninjured arm when I roll over onto my side.

“Ye know,” comes a very amused voice to our left, “If we threw a vat o’ jello into that mix, I think we could sell tickets.”

Keith freezes in mid-strike. I raise my head to look. Allura, Dexter and company are standing in the middle of the hall, gawking at Keith where he sits over me with his fist in the air. Allura in particular looks very dismayed.

“Keith...is there something you need to tell me...?” She asks with a hand pressed to her mouth.

My chuckling capability shorts out again. Everyone else except Allura breaks into uproarious laughter. Keith sighs heavily, drags a hand over his face, gets to his feet with all the dignity he can manage and promptly disappears into his room. Allura blinks at me. I get to my feet and dust myself off, clear my throat noisily.

“Umm, princess...there is an explanation. Really.”

“I can just imagine,” she replies lightly. “Please do.”

By the time I finish relating all the details, Keith comes back out of his room. He’s looking like his regular self, sans red jumpsuit. Allura takes a moment to look him over as he leads the way down to the control room. I could swear she sneaks a peek at his backside as she walks behind him. Or am I imagining things? No, wait, Keith is the clueless one here. Never mind.

“All right, everyone, now that the pies are cooled off, we’ll all cut a slice and I’m going to come around and sample a few, all right? Let’s begin.” The teacher smiles and walks over to the table closest to her. I smile to myself and pick up a cutter. My freshly-baked cherry pie both looks good and smells good. I think I finally got it right this time. Now to sample the wares.

I poke at the crust and the cutter skids across the top of the pie. I frown at it and make a second attempt. Once again, the cutter slides along the surface without even leaving a scratch. I tap at it and it makes a dull thunking sound. Damn.

“Trouble, Alan?” The teacher comes up to our table and folds her hands in front of her as she examines my attempt at creating dessert. “It looks rather good to me. Aren’t you going to cut it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I rest the cutter at the center of the pie and bear down on it hard. One edge of the crust breaks open and spews the contents across the table as the top collapses in on itself. The teacher shakes her head.

“Well, that’s three for three, I’m afraid. You know, Alan, it seems that you have a tendency to miss the mark on just one little thing in what you’re cooking, and that spoils the final result. You have the potential to be a decent cook if it weren’t for that.”

I sigh and dip a finger into the cherry glop to take a taste. Seems like I got that much right, but then again even I can’t screw up filling that comes out of a can.

“So what am I missing here?” I say aloud, more to myself than to the teacher.

She picks up a fork and taps at the edge of my pie with it. “Hmm, the crust is a bit...solid. Alan, did you make sure to chill the shortening and use ice water before you mixed them with the flour?”

“Umm, no. Is that important?”

“Sure it is. That’s how you get a flaky crust.” She pauses in thought. “I think I know what we need here. You need an analogy to keep in mind. What sort of hobbies do you have? Do you like to paint, maybe?”

“Yes Ma’am, I do.”

“Well then, let’s put it like this. Cooking is a lot like making a painting. You gather your brushes, your paints, set up a canvas, and then you use those materials to create an image. Now, you wouldn’t dream of trying to paint a forest scene without either having green paint for the trees, or blue and yellow handy to mix your green, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, think of the ingredients for your pie crust as being like the two colors you would need to make your green, assuming you had to mix the colors to get what you want. Adding too much yellow or too much blue won’t make a realistic color for tree leaves. You have to combine them in just the right amounts to get the leafy green that you would need. In that same way, in order to make tasty pie crust, the flour and the shortening need to combined in just the right amount. You see?”

“Yeah...yeah, I think I get it now.”

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you stay here after class, and we’ll try some chocolate chip cookies made from scratch. How about that?”

“Cookies? Ahh, no. I don’t do cookies well at all. But I can bake some really good hockey pucks.”

“Now, now...remember what I just told you? It’s all a matter of mixing the ingredients in the right way. And that’s what a recipe is for. To use the painting analogy, it’s like working on a color by number picture. All the colors in all the right amounts are kept at hand, and the picture is created by a set procedure. I think you should make another attempt, now that you’ve made that connection. What do you think?”

“I guess it can’t hurt. I can always save them for our next hockey game.”

“Oh, silly...I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the results you’ll get this time. Just wait and see.” She gives my shoulder a pat, goes on to the next table, and I start cleaning up my disaster area.

“All right, Pidge, I’ve decided what your punishment will be. And I want you to bear in mind that I’m not so much doing this because of the dress...stop smiling, cut it out...I’m not doing this so much for the dress as I am for the fact that you tampered with a vital piece of equipment. We can’t get to the Lions without that silo, and if you’d changed something without realizing it - and according to Shannon, you already did that once - we could be left high and dry without Voltron when the next robeast came calling. You realize the potential for trouble in that scenario, don’t you?”

Pidge nods, his expression becoming very somber. “Yessir, I realize it.”

“All right, then you’ll understand why I’m going to confiscate your laptop, and -”

“My laptop?” He clutches it to himself protectively. “You’re going to take my computer from me? Keith?”

“Yes, I most certainly am. And you’re to be denied access to any and all other computers, with the exception of what’s required of you during your time on duty.”

“But -”

“No buts, Pidge. This is serious. And to make sure you stick to this punishment, I’m assigning Shannon to keep an eye on you.”

He blinks at me. “Shannon...?”

“That’s right, Shannon. She’s going to be watching your every move, everywhere you go in this castle, and outside of it. And she will also have the authority to assign you busy work to occupy your time whenever she deems it necessary, for the duration of your punishment.”

“So let me get this straight...Shannon is going to be around me twenty-four seven, for who knows how long, until I’ve done my time.”

“She’s going to be in your company within reason. Of course, there are places where she won’t be expected to follow you, and those are self-explanatory. But everywhere else, she’s going to stick to you like glue till I’ve decided that your period of discipline is complete. Understand?”

“Understood.” Pidge purses his lips. “Wow. Gee...that’s, umm...that’s pretty harsh, Keith, making Shannon my baby-sitter for days on end. Guess that’ll start right away, huh?”

“Yes, it will. I’ve already discussed it with her. She’s waiting for you in the tech’s area. You’re to report there immediately after you leave my office.”

“Okay...then here, take my laptop.” He sets it on the desk in front of me. “Am I dismissed?”

“Yes.”

He salutes me and heads for the door. Once it’s shut behind him I hear him break into a run. After his footsteps fade into distance I hear a distinct ‘Woo-hoo!’ shouted at the end of the hall. I glance at the laptop, then at the door.

I did just tell Pidge he’s being punished, right? Right. So how come it worked so well for Dexter when he decided how to deal with Hunk and Dunkirk? Hmm. Maybe he could advise on that one.

I lock up the laptop in my office safe and head off in search of Dexter.

“Galen, man! You won’t believe it!” Pidge grips my shoulders. “You just won’t believe it!”

“What, Keith didn’t take your laptop after all? I figured he would.”

“Yeah, he took it, but big deal.” He smiles at my surprised reaction. “What’s the matter?”

“You, not being upset over losing your laptop?” Do you have a fever? How are you going to help me find the Eye of Koloth if you don’t have your laptop?”

He shrugs. “I can still play it through the game box. Keith didn’t deny me the right to play games, just to use a computer. But it doesn’t matter, Galen, seriously, because I get to spend time with Shannon as my punishment! Can you believe that? Keith wants her to keep an eye on me, so she’ll be around me every waking moment for days on end. This rules! If I’d known that’s what I’d get as punishment, I would have put Keith in the dress in the first place!” He smiles hugely. “I think I’ll go hang out in the garden. She’ll have to follow me there. We can sit by the fountain and talk, maybe.”

Right then, Shannon pokes her head into the hall from the room she’s in. “Ah, Pidge...there you are. You ready to start?”

He beams at her. “Sure.”

“All righty, then. You need to come in here and get a box of batteries.”

“Batteries? What for?”

“Well, first of all we need to put fresh batteries in all the toys down at the daycare center, then we’ll stop off at Maintenance and check all the emergency equipment to make sure it’s up to par, and -”

Pidge is aghast. “Changing batteries? That’s grunt work!”

She looks thoughtful. “Yes it is, sweetie, and you’re the grunt that has to do it. Keith said I was to keep you busy. Now come on, we need to get started.”

“But -”

“No buts. Come on.” She crooks a finger at him. Pidge gives me a helpless look and walks into the room. So much for private time in the garden. I bet she’ll have him do things like that all day long. At least he’s not pulling Kitchen Police duty for Nanny. I think Dunkirk is scarred for life over that one.

A few moments later, Shannon comes out into the hall with Pidge behind her. He’s lugging a box of batteries on his shoulder. They head in the direction of the daycare center. I shrug to myself and head back to my room. Looks like I’ll be searching the dungeons for the Eye of Koloth on my own for awhile.

Dexter is in the sitting room, surrounded by balls of crushed paper. He’s currently in the process of scribbling something out in the notebook on his lap as he mutters under his breath. After a moment he scowls, rips the sheet of paper out of the notebook, crumples it and gives it a toss. Then he starts writing again.

“Problem, Dexter?”

He glances up at me. “Kinda, Captain-Captain. Alan gave me a pretty good idea for a poem, but I just can’t seem to go anywhere with it.”

“Writing poetry can be harder than it looks, but it’s also easier. What you need to remember, first and foremost, is that a poem in its ideal state is a piece of yourself written down on paper for everyone to see. How much of this is coming from what you really feel?”

He scratches at his head with the tip of his pen. “What do you mean?”

“What are you writing about?”

“I’m writing about Tasia...how she reminds me of a cat. But it’s not coming out the way I’d like it to.”

“Shall I make a suggestion?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Okay, let’s try a different approach. You’re familiar with cats, right? You’ve been around them, you know how they go about their day, whatever?”

“Yeah, because my sister has always had a cat around. Her newest one is named Montgomery Oscar Ulysses Samuel Eric Robertson. But she calls him Mouser for short. Get it?”

“Ahh, yeah. I get it.”

“Pretty funny, huh? My sister is a trip.”

“Why do I get the feeling that ‘being a trip’ runs in your family?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Why?”

“Never mind...now, back to the poem. Tasia as a cat. First of all, you need to think of some of the things she does that remind you of a cat. If you do that by itself, just string together a bunch of comparisons, it could probably be worked into something fairly decent. But let’s take it one step further. Let’s attach feelings to the images. How does Tasia being a cat relate to how you feel about her?”

“Well...” He drums the pen against his notebook. “I like her, you know? I really do. And we get along fine, we spend a lot of time in each other’s company...but whenever I start talking about getting serious, or even hint at using the ‘L’ word, she balks. Every time. It’s like...like a cat and mouse game. That’s what it feels like. And I’m the mouse.”

“Hmm...all right, then think about that for a moment. Think about how you feel toward her, and then apply that to your concept of her as a cat. Take your time, explore the idea in it’s entirety, and then when you feel like you have something to say about it, write it down. Keep writing until you think you’re done, and don’t even pause to look at it. Just write.”

“Okay...” He closes his eyes, sits quietly for a couple of minutes. Then his eyes open again and he begins to dash off sentences in rapid-fire sequence. He only scratches out a couple of words as he goes. When he stops, he studies the tablet for a moment, then he holds it out to me. “Here it is. What do you think?”

“Not bad...but let’s tweak a few things here and there.” I sit down on the couch beside him and hand the tablet back as he readies his pen. “How about...we change ‘paw’ to ‘touch’ - gives it a little more ambiguity, since it is a cat, and yet it isn’t. See what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right, and here, let’s substitute ‘distraction’ for ‘amusement’, because you’ve already used ‘amusement’ once down here, and it’s slightly more fitting there than the first occurrence of the word...and how about we smooth this reading out here...this conclusion is a summary of your own feelings on the situation, right?”

“Right.”

“Then you need to make it yours. Don’t use ‘a’, use ‘my’, because this is supposed to be your account of your experiences. You see what I mean?”

“Yeah...yeah, I do.” He makes a few more corrections and substitutions of his own. “I think that’s it.”

“All right, read it aloud and see how it sounds to you.”

He stares at the paper in disbelief. “Wow.”

“You have a title in mind for it?”

He pauses in thought. “Cat’s Play.”

“Mission complete. Congratulations, you’re a poet.” I take hold of his hand and shake it. “Now, I want to get your input on something. How would you suggest that I -”

He’s still staring at his finished work and not paying me one bit of attention. “Keith, seriously...it would have taken me days to write something like this, and you helped me do it in what, ten minutes?” He looks up at me. “That’s pretty impressive, you know that?”

“Thanks, Dexter. I want you around to say that the next time Lance accuses me of being clueless, okay?”

“Umm...” He wrinkles his nose. “I might not be able to help you out on that one.”

“Why not?”

“Because you really are clueless from time to time. Wait, let me rephrase. You’re mostly clueless when it comes to the princess. Otherwise, you’re pretty cool.”

My brow furrows on reflex. “How am I clueless when it comes to the princess?”

“Well, it’s pretty much a given that you like her, but it’s funny how you seem to miss all the signals that she throws at you.”

“Signals...what signals?”

“My point exactly.”

“Are we talking about the little incident in the shuttle bay?”

He gives me a double-take. “What little incident in the shuttle bay?”

“The one where she jumped out of the shuttle, landed wrong and fell into my arms.”

He breaks into a big grin. “Ooh, I didn’t hear about that one. When did it happen?”

“It - never mind when, it just happened, all right? Now what signals are we talking about here?”

“There’s plenty of them, but I would think the ‘Keith face’ is the biggest one.”

“’Keith face?’”

“Yeah. Whenever she first sees you under whatever circumstances, her whole face lights up, like somebody just plugged her little toe into an outlet or something. And she gets this smile - it’s very, very slight and you have to be looking for it to see it - but it’s there. And she doesn’t get that look for just anybody. It’s only you she does it for. That’s why I call it her ‘Keith face’.”

I stare at him for a long time without speaking. He arches an eyebrow. “What?”

“’Keith face’, Dexter?”

He nods. “Yep. And come to think of it, you have an ‘Allura face’. You get this expression like you want to get all swoony over her, but maybe you’re afraid that Lance will laugh or something along those lines, so you stifle it real quick. And that split second of swoony just before the stifle is your ‘Allura face’.”

“You’re a very observant person, Dexter. I’ll give you that...darn, I forget what I was going to ask you before.”

“Was it my opinion on the shuttle incident?”

“Forget the shuttle incident, will you?”

“Come on, Keith, you can tell me. The secret will go no further. You have my word as a Sv’elleie.”

“A...what?”

“A Sv’elleie. I’m a lifetime member of the Sven-Romelle Union Society, and that’s the name for people like me - Sv’elleies.”

“Get out of here.”

“I’m serious. Our goal in life is to see Sven and Princess Romelle become husband and wife, as they were meant to be. We are thousands strong, and our numbers grow every day.” He clasps a hand to his chest, over his heart. “’The Pilot, the Princess, the potential. Till destiny becomes reality.’ That’s our motto. Pretty cool, huh?”

“I’m leaving now.” I get to my feet and head for the door.

“You know, that slogan could easily apply to another pilot and princess set I know of...”

“I’m not listening anymore, Dexter...”

His voice gets steadily louder the closer I get to the door. “Even as we speak, there could be countless numbers of people out there somewhere, devoting large portions of their time to the goal of you and princess Allura being united. Search your feelings, you know it to be true!”

“You’re a loony, Dexter!” I yell over my shoulder as I step into the hall.

“Thanks for the poem!” He calls back.

“Welcome!” I turn the far corner of the hallway. Dunkirk is coming up the hall as I go down.

“Hello, Captain,” he says. “Is Dexter in th’ sittin’ room?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Thank ye.” He starts to move on, pauses and turns back. “Might I ask ye a question, Captain?”

“Go ahead.”

“Now, I’m nae tryin’ t’ point fingers o’ anythin’, mind ye, but I’m wonderin’ why Hunk an’ me have t’ pull KP duty from hell when we do wrong, but along comes Pidge, an’ he’s braggin’ about his punishment an’ grinnin’ from ear t’ ear. Could ye take a moment t’ explain that, maybe?”

“Well, to tell the truth I was wondering about that myself. He seemed to be letting it all sink in until I mentioned Shannon, and then he was excited. He handed his laptop over like it was nothing and left in a very good mood.”

“Ahh...an’ that would be because he’s got a crush on Shannon that’s th’ size of yer Lion, ye know.”

“He does?”

“Aye. He’s all taken up with her, an’ me guess would be because she knows a lot about th’ same things he’s into, so he can talk shop around her an’ she wonna make funny faces at him. He’s been like that since th’ day they first met at th’ Academy. Why, a person would have t’ be completely clueless t’ miss it.”

“Clueless...yeah. But it was never at any time intended to be a benefit of any type. The real reason I assigned Shannon to watch over him is because she’s one of the few I know of who can keep up with that scheming little brain of his.”

“That may be, Captain, but with legs th’ likes o’ what she has, ye might be seein’ th’ lad tryin’ a different kind o’ schemin’ altogether.” He gives me a wink. “But she’s a friend o’ Lynne’s, so I think she can take care o’ herself. An’ I do thank ye for th’ explanation. I understand now. Be seein’ ye.” He heads for the sitting room, whistling to himself. I frown a little.

Damn it, I am not clueless. And an ‘Allura face’? Where did Dexter get that from? I don’t have an ‘Allura face’. He’s nuts.

What was I going to ask Dexter anyway?

“All right, Alan, here we are.” The teacher opens the oven, removes the tray and sets it on the table to cool. I stare at the cookies for a moment. They do look good, but I’ve never had a problem with making things appear appetizing. It’s the ability to digest the stuff that I always mess up on.

After awhile, the teacher scoots one of the cookies onto a spatula and holds it out to me. I pick it up. Hmm, it actually feels soft and chewy cookie-like. I take a bite, and I make a face at the teacher. She tilts her head at me.

“Is something wrong?”

“You must have swapped the dough when I wasn’t looking. These cookies taste good. As a matter of fact, they taste great. No way are they mine.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “There was no swapping involved, young man. You are solely responsible for this batch. I told you, just a little bit of extra attention to the proper mixing of ingredients can make a world a difference. Do you believe me now?”

“Yes, I believe you.” I take another bite of the wonderfully chewy, delicious cookie. My cookie. I made it myself. I can’t believe this.

“I’m going to get my friends together and have them try these - I’m going to get everyone! They won’t make fun of me anymore, not now.” I get up from the chair and circle it to shake the teacher’s hand. “Thank you, thanks so much!”

“You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the main kitchen. Have fun sharing your newfound talent with your friends.” She gives my shoulder a pat and leaves the room. I head for the door as well and turn in a different direction. After some wandering, I find Tasia and Allura in the meeting hall, huddled together around a laptop computer. They both look up at me as I enter. I hold up the remaining piece of cookie in my hand for them to see.

“Ladies...behold! Behold the cookie of power!”

They exchange glances, then look back at me. Tasia arches an eyebrow.

“That’s great, Alan. You were a good boy, and now you got a cookie. Congratulations.”

“No, you don’t understand. This cookie represents my first successful baking attempt, at last. See the bites out of it? It’s edible, it’s delicious, and Yours Truly created it with his own two hands! Here, try a bite!” I break off two un-nibbled portions and hand one to each of them. They take cautious bites, then their eyes light up.

“Alan, no way did you make these,” Tasia says and pops the rest of it into her mouth. “Who’d you pay to bake ‘em?”

“I paid no one, my dear Tasia. The cooking teacher can vouch for me. She supervised the process, but all the creative work was mine and mine alone.”

“These are very good, Alan,” Allura says as she finishes her piece. I smile at them both.

“There’s plenty more where they came from. I have a whole tray of them cooling in the kitchen section of the Recreation Area. Come with me!” I make a broad sweeping gesture with my arms. “I’m going to gather everyone, and we shall eat cookies!”

“You are about goofy, Alan.” Tasia gets up from the chair and looks at Allura. “But maybe a break wouldn’t hurt. My eyes are starting to get buggy from all this reading.”

“I agree,” Allura replies. “Let’s take a cookie break. Alan, will you be so kind as to lead the way, good Sir?”

“My pleasure.” I offer an arm to each of them. They laugh and accept my offers. Tasty cookies and the company of lovely ladies, all in one evening. I may not be a Captain, but it’s all good anyway.

“Heya, Dunny!” I give him a wave as he passes the crossway of the intersection. He backtracks to look around the corner.

“Aye, Hunk. Finished with yer patrol, lad?”

“Yeah, I was running late because of that little setback in the command center. Good old Pidge. Leave it to him to come up with a crazy scheme like that.”

“But ye have t’ admit that it was funny. I thought I’d busted somethin’ from all th’ laughin’ I did.”

“Yeah...darn good thing the Chief’s got a sense of humor, or we’d have been short a Green Lion pilot. Say, did Keith pass his sentence yet?”

“Aye. Th’ lad is doomed t’ spend time under Shannon’s watchful eye for th’ duration o’ his indefinite sentence.” He smirks. “Ye can just imagine what a difficulty that is for him.”

“Well, he ain’t gonna have it on easy street, if that’s what you’re saying. Shanny can find all sorts of things to keep him busy if she sets her mind on it. You can count on that. Say, you going anywhere special?”

“Nope. Ye have a suggestion for somethin’ t’ do, I take it?”

“Yeah. Let’s go check out the recreation area. There was a cooking class today, and once it’s over the students leave stuff behind in the fridge. We might find a pretty decent snack down there.”

“I’m in with ye. Let’s have a look.”

I lead the way with Dunny close behind. The kitchen area is empty, same as usual this time of evening. I head for the fridge, open the door. “Yep, we’ve hit the jackpot, Dunny. There’s a bowl of mashed potatoes, some gravy, and a whole roast in here!”

“There’s some fresh baked bread over here on th’ counter,” He calls back. “And cookies! Chocolate chip, too. They’re some o’ th’ best I ever tasted!”

“Not bad. That makes a roast beef dinner, plus dessert. Find a carving knife.”

“Aye.”

“Lance, Lance!” Alan approaches with Tasia on one arm and Allura on the other. I instantly get a mental picture of Keith and Dexter dragging him off to a remote stretch of hallway for a serious beating in his near future. But at the same time I do find myself wondering what brought this little scenario on in the first place.

“Alan...what’s the occasion?”

Alan lets go of both girls and spreads his arms wide. “I made cookies!”

“Great...so who’s getting their stomach pumped this time?”

“No one is, not this time. These cookies are absolutely, positively, one hundred percent edible. That’s why I’m gathering everyone to come and experience them. Come, join us.”

I arch an eyebrow at the girls. Allura nods at me.

“He’s right, Lance, the cookies are very good.”

“Chocolate chip, baby,” Tasia adds.

“Hmm, interesting. I guess that is noteworthy, considering his past track record.”

The wisecrack doesn’t even faze him. “That’s right, a truly epic event, my fifteen minutes of culinary fame. I’m off to gather the rest of the gang, and we shall celebrate! Milk is on me!” He marches on ahead, with Allura and Tasia following behind like mice after the Pied Piper. I shrug to myself and join the group. Alan roams the whole castle, collects Keith, who seems to be pondering something, Dexter from amid his pile of crumpled paper, pounds on the door to Galen’s room to startle him out of his round of game-playing. He tracks down Shannon and Pidge, scoots Caro away from her translation program and Lynne from her books. But he’s missing two very specific people, the ones voted most likely to wolf down large quantities of dessert in the first place. Or maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried to track them down. I’d rather look a robeast in the eye than get in Hunk and Dunkirk’s way when chocolate chips are involved.

We all descend on the recreation room en masse. Alan stops just outside the kitchen door and turns to face us.

“And now, prepare to have your taste buds sing and dance!” He opens the door, steps inside, halts in his tracks, gives a strangled squawk. Everyone squeezes around him to look and see what’s going on.

Hunk and Dunkirk are seated at the far end of the work table with half a roast on a plate and a partial loaf of fresh bread on a cutting board sitting nearby. They’re looking at Alan with expressions that are a blend of surprise and curiosity. A large cookie sheet is resting directly between them, and only four cookies remain on it. Alan takes a few halting steps forward, clearly dismayed at the sight before him.

“My cookies!” He exclaims. “You ate my cookies! It took me all day to make those!”

Hunk looks down at the bite left in his hand, then he looks back at Alan. “You made these? Really?”

“Yes, I did, and you’ve nearly wiped them all out!”

“Well, they’re awful good this time, Alan,” Dunkirk says. “An’ let me be th’ first t’ congratulate ye.”

“Congratulations? Congratulations? Those cookies were supposed to be for everyone! And now my big moment has been ruined! Completely destroyed!” He clenches his fists tightly. “You, you...walking, talking conglomerations of gastrointestinal arrogance! I’m going to beat you both into a pulp!”

He starts around the table, grabbing up a rolling pin en route. Hunk and Dunkirk must have a Nanny flashback right then, because the very sight of the rolling pin makes them bolt and run for the far side of the room. Alan gives chase, waving the rolling pin over his head as he goes. Keith and Dexter intercept him before he can reach them. Tasia wrestles the would-be weapon out of his hand.

“Death!” Alan hollers at the top of his lungs as he struggles within Keith and Dexter’s grasp. “Death, death! Stark raving homicide in a light butter glaze, served with cranberry sauce...!” He forces an arm between Keith and Dexter and makes a wild flailing motion with his empty hand.

“Alan, knock it off!” Dexter yells at him. “You’re losing it, man! Back down!”

Alan blinks, draws a breath and stops struggling. The other two slowly relax their hold on him. He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he goes back to the nearly empty cookie sheet.

“My cookies...” he says sadly. Tasia goes over to pat his shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it, Alan. You can always make more.” She picks up a cookie and breaks it into small pieces. “And there’s plenty left if you divide them up, see?” She does the same with the rest, then she picks up the baking sheet and passes the bits around. Everyone takes a test bite, except me - I have some expensive dental work that I’d rather not have cracked - but it turns out that the vote among the rest is unanimous. These are without a doubt some of the best cookies ever tasted. No wonder Alan was so upset. Maybe Tasia should give him the rolling pin back.

Once the taste test is done, everyone begins to disperse. Allura walks over to Keith to talk to him, and Dexter suddenly gets this big, goofy grin.

“Keith face!” He crows cheerily. Allura blinks, looks around at Dexter. Keith looks like he could casually stroll over to where Dexter is standing and break him in two. That alone makes this something worth investigating. I walk over to Dexter and snag his arm.

“Hey, Dexter...what about that game of racquetball you owe me? Let’s go, hoser.” I drag him through the door before either Keith or Allura can react. Dexter still has his head turned in their direction.

“Hah - Allura face!” He says, then he looks around at me. “What racquetball game, Lance?”

“There is no racquetball game, stupid. I just said that to get you out of the room. Forget that, and tell me about this Keith face/Allura face thing.”

“Oh, okay...see, whenever the princess is looking at Keith, and she thinks no one else is watching her, she gets this expression that looks like someone has plugged her pinky toe into a light socket. It’s kinda lovey, kinda gooey, and it lasts for about a second or two, then it vanishes. And she only gets it when she looks at him, so that’s why I call it a ‘Keith face’. See?”

Damned if the blonde boy isn’t right on the money. I’ve seen Allura look at Keith like that many, many times, times without count. I just never had a name for it. And leave it to Dexter to come up with one.

“I know exactly what you mean about the princess, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen an ‘Allura face’.”

“Well, that one is a lot like a Keith face, only Keith is doing the face-making. And it comes and goes real quick. You have to be watching for it, or you’ll miss it.”

“Hmm...and teasing him about it will just make him try to hide it even more. I’ll have to keep quiet and watch carefully. Guess I’d better not tease the princess, either.”

“To tell the truth, Lance, I think she’ll get a ‘Keith face’ whether she gets teased about it or not. It’s a reflex action - she can’t help it.”

“You know, I think you’re right on that one.”

“Yep, I think so, too.” He pauses in thought. “Wonder if Keith is going to write a poem and enter it in the contest. I bet the princess would like that. You know, he helped me write a pretty decent one in, like, ten minutes or so. That was pretty amazing. Keith is a very talented guy. Too bad he’s so clueless sometimes.”

“What - you actually think Keith is clueless? Honest?”

“Yeah. Especially when it comes to the princess.”

“Oh, my man, my man. We have a consensus. Put it there.” I extend my hand to shake, and he grasps it firmly. Keith steps out into the hall right then, and he looks back toward the room. Dexter says ‘Allura face!’ aloud at the exact same time that I do. Keith turns and aims a very evil glare our way.

“See this?” He growls as he points a finger at his stern expression. “This is my ‘Dismember Lance and Dexter face’. Got that?” He turns on his heel and heads down the hall. Dexter and I grin at each other.

And thus a new alliance was formed.

Why me? Why did this have to happen to me? It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Lance’s teasing, and now he’s acquired a partner in crime. The very idea of the things they’ll cook up between the two of them to torment me with makes me shudder.

Where did I go wrong? Am I not a good Captain? Don’t I do my best to keep the Voltron Force in top form? Don’t I? What did I do to deserve this?

Maybe I’ll just have to kill them. Yes, kill them both, hide the bodies, hire new pilots. Simple. I stop at the end of the hall and look back. Dexter is explaining something to Lance, and at the conclusion of his tale he places his hand over his heart. Lance gets a smile that could break his face in two if it got any wider. Dexter’s explaining the Sv’elleie thing, no doubt. Speaking of Sven, I sure wish he was here. He could ally with me against those two. Right now I have no support whatsoever.

They turn their heads and take notice of me, and both of them break into huge, cheesy grins. I promptly duck around the corner and beat a hasty retreat.

“Ha, ha ha...run, my good Captain, run...but you cannot hide. The final victory shall be mine in the end. You task me, and I shall have you.” Lance punctuates his statement by raising a tightly-gripped fist in the air. I study him for a moment.

“So like, you have a copy of ‘Lotor’s Villainous Phrases’? I thought that book was out of print.”

He looks around at me. “Dexter, you don’t understand. Keith has had a thing for Allura almost from the first day they met. And I’ve been kind enough to accept defeat, and not try to pull the triangle thing. So he’s going to end up with her if it’s the last thing I do, so help me.” He points a finger my way. “And you, oh faithful sidekick, will aid me in this endeavor. We shall see out mission through to the very end.”

I fold my arms. “Only if you promise to help me out with Sven and Romelle.”

“Dexter, Sven is a whole different animal. Torment Keith, he fusses, fumes and stomps away. Tease Sven too much, and he will get you back. Believe me when I tell you this.” He points a finger to punctuate his statement. “You don’t piss off the dude with the funny accent. Period. It’s a bad, bad thing to do. He won’t really hurt you, per se, but he will make you carefully reconsider the idea of picking on him in the future.”

“Hmm...wonder if he was behind whatever caused Bandor’s hair loss a few years back.”

“What?”

“Bandor is president of the Sv’elleies, see, and he has a web page dedicated to the group. Whenever Sven and his sister would spend time in each other’s company, he updated the page with the latest scoop. So one time, he had photographic evidence of our happy couple about to engage in a kiss. He posted it on this page he titled ‘The Bald Facts’. About a week later, he showed up with no hair on his head. King Avok had the incident investigated, and it turned out that someone had replaced his shampoo with hair remover. But the perpetrator of the joke was never found.”

“Let me ask you something. Was Sven on the investigation team?”

“Sort of. He was acting as a security advisor at the time, and...oh. I get it.”

“Exactly. When it comes to Sven, you poke into his private business at your own peril. For now, we stick with Keith. He’s a much easier target. Then we’ll have enough experience to deal with Sven. How about that?”

“Sounds good. So what are we going to do to Keith first?”

“Just let me ponder it for awhile. I’ll get back to you.”

“All right, that’s a bet.” I glance back toward the kitchen. Allura is talking to a very downcast-looking Alan. “Wonder what’s up in there?”

Lance takes a quick glance and shrugs. “She’s probably giving him a pep talk to make him feel better. She’s like that.” He starts down the hall, and I follow along.

“Yeah, she is. She seems to get along with Alan pretty well, too.”

“Probably because he’s a native. Good thing Keith didn’t spot him when they were walking arm in arm, though. A person could read all sorts of things into that.”

“I think you’re stretching things just a little bit.”

He gives me a sideways glance. “Tasia was on his other arm at the same time.”

“What? Hey - what was that about? You saw them? What were they doing?”

He laughs. “Dexter, you may not be as clueless as Keith, but you sure are predictable.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. I still want an explanation.”

And he gives me one, as we walk down the hall.

“Alan, are you going to be all right?” Allura reaches out and catches my hand in hers. “We can send Hunk and Dunkirk back down to the kitchen for more cleaning, if you want.”

“No, it’s...well, it just figures. I finally cook something right and along come those two to gobble up all my hard work. Talk about irony.”

“If you like, you can make some more for the little dinner I’ll be having after the poetry contest is over. What do you think?”

I shrug at her. “What does it matter? They’ll just get into them first, like they did this time, and the cookies will be gone before anyone gets a chance to try them.”

“No they won’t. Nanny will catering the dinner. You don’t think they’ll dare try to get past Nanny, do you?”

“No...”

“Come on, say you will. Do it for me.” She takes hold of my other hand with hers. “Please?”

“All right...for you, princess, I’ll do it.”

The sound of a quietly-clearing throat comes from the doorway. We both look around as Coran steps through the door, carrying a handful of papers. He gives me an odd look, similar to the one he had in the hall just outside the meeting room. Allura lets go of my hands and goes over to see what the papers are all about. I take the moment to excuse myself and leave the room.

“Remember what we discussed,” she calls after me.

I pause and turn back. “I know, and I will. You have my word.”

Coran turns and smiles at me then. I have no idea what he’s so happy about. Guess he must have heard about the cookies too. I shrug to myself and head down the hall.

Well, here it is. Another conclusion to yet another day. The sun settles slowly behind the mountains, painting everything in gold, orange and red. The whole sitting room is filled with a warm, inviting glow. Very relaxing.

I hear footsteps approaching and turn to look. Allura enters the room, looking lost in thought. I study her for a long time in silence. I’m supposedly so clueless when it comes to her. Lance thinks so, Dexter thinks so...

“Hello, Keith,” she says softly. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Oh, umm...I’ve been wanting to ask you a question, but I’m not quite sure how to put it.”

“What is it?”

“Did you...fall from the shuttle on purpose?”

She studies me quietly. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, which is why I’m asking.”

“What if I did? Does that make me a bad princess?”

“Ahh, that’s not what I was trying to -”

“Yes it is. You think I shouldn’t be trying to steal kisses and discussing your tomato with Tasia. But I do. I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to think of those things now. And you know what? You can’t stop me. Neither can Coran, neither can Nanny. What do you think of that?”

“I - my tomato?”

“Yes. It’s round, firm and usually red. Tomato.”

“Umm...”

“Yes, I know. Naughty princess, naughty. Grab the soap, wash the mouth.” She makes a face. “If you’re all worked up over that, I can just imagine what you’d think about some of the other things I’ve fantasized about you.”

“Fantasies? You have...fantasies...about me?”

She smiles sweetly. “Yes indeed, I do. Would you care to hear one?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Sometimes I imagine you being naked...all except for the white boots.”

“The boots? Why the boots?”

“Why not the boots?”

“Ahh...”

“And you have this big bottle of baby oil, and you squirt it all over your chest, and -”

I hold up a palm to stop her. “Okay, okay, stop right there.”

“Why? Why is it so bad for me to use my imagination?”

“Because that particular imagining was very un-princesslike.”

“Well, maybe I’m not feeling princesslike right now. You know, Tasia probably discusses things like that with Dexter all the time.”

“Tasia isn’t a princess.”

“She could be. I could make her princess for a day, and then I’d be a normal girl and you could wander around in nothing but the boots, and -”

“Princess...”

“What?”

“Please stop.”

“Oh, all right...” She pauses in thought. “Have you ever pictured me naked?”

“I plead the fifth.”

She tilts her head. “From what I recall of Earth laws, you should plead the first instead. The fifth only makes you look guilty.”

“Hmm. I think you’re right.”

“So, have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Have you ever thought of me being naked or had a fantasy about me, anything like that?”

“I’m not going to tell you if I have.”

“Why not? I told you about one of mine.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, either.”

She folds her arms and sighs. “Fine, go ahead, ruin my fun, be a pooky pooh-pooh. See if I care.”

“A whaty what-what?”

“A pooky pooh-pooh. A grumpy-bumpy wumpus with a sourpuss face, he never has fun, never leaves his place.” She starts to sing. “Never lets a friend inside his personal space...Mister Pooky pooh-pooh with the picklepuss face.”

That makes me laugh. “Oh boy...I guess I’ve been told, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Yes, you have. I suppose I’ll be seeing you around tomorrow, Captain Pooh-pooh. Take care.” Then her expression softens after a moment and her face...well, it lights up, right to the sparkle in her eyes. And the smile, there’s the smile, then she leaves the room. I turn back to the window.

“Keith face,” I say, very quietly.

To The New Arrivals: Day 2

To The New Arrivals: Day 4