Chapter Text
Someone was going to get hurt just as soon as Lotor could decide who was most deserving of his ire.
He was sitting in the cockpit of his one-man fighter, finally ready to get the hell off this craggy shitpile of a planet. The Torassian Pirates had asked to meet him here, and they had six thousand ships under their banner. If they set their numbers to harassing Galaxy Garrison supply freighters rather than chasing after merchants, it would give a considerable boost to the war effort.
Lotor had shown considerable restraint for the sake of those six thousand ships. He’d come alone, as they asked, so that a sizable landing force wouldn’t betray this position. He’d endured a dull tour of their smuggling facility, feigning interest in its day-to-day operations. For six thousand ships he’d swallowed the insult when the admiral of this band of thugs had arrived late for their meeting, as if the Crown Prince of Doom ought to wait on any other man’s pleasure. He’d even made a courtly refusal when the admiral’s pretty young wife propositioned him in her husband’s absence. He wasn’t in the habit of turning a willing woman down, but the thought of six thousand ships left him bowing over her hand rather than bending her over the table. He’d been polite and charming to every one of those rustics, buoyed up by the promise of six thousand hardened pirate vessels vowing service to Doom.
And then he’d spoken to the “admiral.”
Gray Dennison was a grizzled old veteran with a courtesy title and dreams beyond his reach. He commanded twenty-seven ships in his own right, only three of which were present, and he’d gathered signs of interest from the captains of forty more. But he was confident that more of the Torassians would fall in line over time.
They’d dragged Lotor all the way here for a splinter group, sixty-seven ships out of six thousand. Only the hazy memory that he had no soldiers at his back kept him from drawing his blade.
Oh how his father would laugh. Pulling his flagship out of position with the fleet to haggle over a few dozen skirmishers? It was intolerable. He’d diverted from Arus, where he was, at last, ready to claim a final victory over Voltron. He should be reviewing the battle plans and inspecting Haggar’s latest robeast, but he couldn’t resist this chance to line up a few surprises for his next campaign. He’d lost too many ships in the war, and allying with the pirates had seemed like a good way to replace them.
Though he hadn’t attacked Admiral Dennison, Lotor couldn’t resist spurning their proposal in less than complimentary terms. It would have been more prudent to strike a bargain, to leave Galaxy Garrison guessing at the loyalties of the rest of the Torassian force. But he couldn’t let these fools think there was profit in luring Doom with more help than they could truly bring to bear. Sixty-seven ships were scarcely worth the empire’s time, and they certainly didn’t merit the personal attention of Prince Lotor.
The only decision left to make was whether he’d rather come back and scorch this backwater base or sate his fury on the intelligence officer who’d vetted this mess.
A crackle from his private comm channel pulled Lotor’s attention away from the vengeance he was plotting. “Prince Lotor? This is Commander Cossack. We just picked up two lion ships, Green and Blue, on our long-range scanners. You may want to stay on the surface for now.”
Blue Lion was here? And with only one companion? Lotor’s mind churned through the possibilities; perhaps he could salvage something from this mess after all. “It’s only those two? You’re sure?”
“Yes, Sire. I’ve called for an escort ship, and we can hold them off until then. But your fighter is no match for even one of those lion ships.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Cossack,” he said. A broad smile broke over his face as he realized that Princess Allura would soon be in his grasp. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”
***
“Wow, Princess, it looks like that tip we got was right,” Pidge said. He eased back the throttle of Green Lion, slowing to take stock of the situation. “One of Doom’s ships is circling the planet. They’ve got to be looking for something down there.”
“It’s a good thing we decided to come check it out.” Allura maneuvered her own lion ship next to his. When the call came in, Pidge had suggested they return to the Castle of Lions right away. It was against protocol to leave their patrol route without telling the others, so they should have headed home to let Keith and Coran decide what to do about the possibility of Doom ships in the area. Allura didn’t want to run back to Arus with nothing but a rumor, though. They had visual confirmation now, and wasn’t that worth bending the rules?
Allura’s tactical display chirped out a warning, drawing her attention to a lone fighter heading up from the planet’s surface. It was speeding towards the transport ship.
“Uh, Princess?” Pidge’s face popped up on her comm screen. He looked worried. “I just intercepted a transmission between those two ships. The pilot of that fighter… it’s Lotor!”
“Prince Lotor? Here?” Her breath caught tight in her chest. Lotor was in command of all Doom’s forces. If they had him as a hostage, they could force a treaty. They could save Planet Arus once and for all. “Distract that transport. I’m going to capture him.”
“It’s too dangerous!” Green Lion cut in front of Allura’s Blue. “Let’s go get the rest of the team.”
There was no time to argue. The fighter raced towards the safety of the larger ship, and their chance to intercept it had almost passed. “Just do it, Pidge. We can’t let Lotor get away!”
Blue Lion slipped beneath Green’s paws, unleashing a barrage of laser fire at the fighter. Pidge squealed a protest as he joined the formation. Allura felt a slight twinge of guilt at forcing her friend to cover for her, but how often could she expect to have Lotor at this kind of disadvantage? She’d make it up to Pidge later.
The fighter twisted away from her lasers, but the maneuver threw it out of line with the transport. Allura fired again, clipping one of the tiny ship’s engines. As it sank slowly back towards the planet, she gave a triumphant shout.
A dozen other fighters, identical to the one she was so intent on, swarmed out of the transport’s hold. Green Lion swooped down, scattering them. “I’ll hold them off, Princess. But we need to get out of here fast!”
“I’m on it, Pidge.” Allura sent Blue Lion into a dive, scooping at the lone fighter, but it ducked just out of her reach. The lion ship and the crippled fighter joined in a game of cat and laser-blasted mouse, with Lotor managing to evade each further attack while they sank into the planet’s atmosphere. The fighter fell into a controlled crash, clipping the treetops as it finally slid to rest on a thickly forested hillside.
Allura circled the crash site, taking stock of the situation. She’d planned to carry Lotor’s ship back to Arus in Blue Lion’s jaws, but according to her scanners, his cockpit had been breached. She would have to find another way.
She settled her lion next to the wreckage and disembarked, pulling her pistol. A faint hissing sound came from the fighter as its air supply vented out through its cracked seals. The engine that she’d taken out smoldered, but its fire suppression system had kept the rest of the ship from going up in flames. She circled the fighter and then gasped. The cockpit was empty!