It was well into the evening when he first stirred from the motionless coma that was known as blaster shock. Or at least he thought it was evening because the darkness was full and thick in the room; but on Doom, the days could run as black as the most moonless, overcast night of a long winter, and it was impossible to gauge the time of day unless you had a watch. Not like Arus when bright days ran into clear, mild nights that had the Juniper moon hanging fresh and plump in the star-filled sky. What was it about the bleakness of night that evil found so appealing anyway? How much nicer would it be to conquer planets and wreak havoc from your own island beach house. This Empire was the wealthiest entity in the Far Galaxy, so why was Zarkon living in a dirty, dank, run-down castle? As Keith could figure, Evil didn’t seem to have much common sense for itself.
Evil. What exactly did that word mean? He thought he used to know.
He retreated to the previous thought, the one that had him remembering a recent past that now seemed so far away. Arus was an inviting planet, day or night - so clean and natural despite its battle scars. Small, isolated, penniless, and yet beautiful beyond its meager assets in a way Keith couldn’t fully wrap his mind around. Returning to Arus the evening before had felt like going home.
The familiar scent and feel of the silken bed sheets that covered him told him that he was in his chambers. He shifted to lie on his back, and a searing, electrical pain raced from his chest to his toes, reminding him of what had happened.
“Damn it,” he mumbled aloud. He’d been shot more in the past week than he had in his entire life. The wound was good though; it drowned out the pulsating pain in his head.
With one monumental effort, Keith flung the bed sheets from off of his overheated body. Immediately, the moisture that covered him started to turn cold, like the damp, chilling sweat of a bad fever, and he shivered.
Favoring his freshly bandaged wound, he turned onto his side. There, in the dim light of the encroaching evening, set his next meal. Not one, but two vats of the Tyrusian wine set upon a rolling cart that was placed so near the bed, he only needed to reach out to grab one. Placed next to the vats was a beautifully arranged bowl of fruit.
Food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything substantial.
Without putting much thought into it, he propped himself into an uncomfortable sitting position and reached out for the bottle that set closest to him. He easily finished half of the large vat and set it back down.
An involuntary sigh left his moistened lips, and he settled back down under the covers with the intention of sleeping away another ten hours. But just as he felt himself slipping away, his communicator rang out from the pocket of his uniform that lie neatly folded on the bed beside him.
“What now?” he asked aloud, but it was more of a curse than a question.
After fumbling with the device for a few frustrating seconds, he managed to hit the ‘on’ switch. “Keith here.”
“Commander, His Majesty wishes to speak with you immediately in the Royal Throne Room. A guard will be sent to your suite to escort you.”
“Tell his Highness that I will be there shortly, escorted by no one.”
“Yes sir,” came the timid response.
Keith closed the channel by heaving it with all his might against the far wall. It hit and shattered with the intensity of cold glass against hard metal.
Now feeling much better, he quickly went about getting dressed. He looked for his blaster, and finding it missing, he picked up the vat he’d been favoring and finished it off. Within a minute’s time of waking, he was on his way to the throne room.
Keith glanced around the grand throne room in an effort to locate signs of activity, but there were none. They were alone, and Zarkon didn’t look at all happy to see him. The mighty king sat tall and motionless upon his high throne, and Keith toyed with the idea that this was only a statue of Zarkon, the real one waiting in the shadows for the right moment to jump out and put him to the ground with one swift blow.
He glanced over his shoulder, but no one was there. Keith looked up and into the eyes of the old, infamous King, and something in the back of his mind began to register an undercurrent of something amiss. This was wrong. His being here was wrong. Then why wasn’t he afraid?
“Come up here, boy.”
His inhibitions long ago burnt out by the poisonous Tyrusian wine, Keith obeyed promptly and started up the grand staircase at a moderate pace. But he stopped just two steps short of the platform and stood straight, his head raised high in a stance reminiscent of the former Captain of Voltron.
“Why did you request that a guard be sent to bring me here?”
The king made no reply.
“You have no reason not to trust me.”
Again, Zarkon said nothing.
After a less than comfortable moment of silence, Zarkon eased himself from his throne. His enormous stature took its full form as he intentionally favored the younger man with a snarl.
Keith didn’t flinch. If Zarkon wanted a fight, he was going to get one.
“Relax, Commander,” the older man jested. “You look like you’re about to rip my head off.”
The king then chuckled as he appeared to take on a more pleasant thought. Still, Keith stood at attention, ready to defend himself if necessary. This was his enemy, and he was in danger, yet as his brain flooded with warm liquid, he couldn’t have given a damn. The trademark dizziness that accompanied the wine made him falter in his stance. Luckily, he regained his balance before taking a tumble down the staircase.
“Have a seat, son,” the Great King offered. But Keith didn’t move. “It wasn’t a request,” Zarkon added, standing aside and gesturing for the younger man to take the throne.
Keith sat down reluctantly, almost as if when he did, he might be struck down by lightning.
“Comfy, isn’t it?”
“What do you want Zarkon?” Keith fired back. “Something tells me I’m not in here to try on your chair.” Suddenly, Keith felt a wave of fever come over him, and the room began to swelter.
Zarkon regarded him coolly. “Nebus was a test.”
Keith nodded. He had already figured as much.
“You were sent to Nebus as a test of loyalty, and I’m afraid that you didn’t fair too well, Commander.” Zarkon then leaned in close, nearly whispering now. “It was I who allowed your friends to know of your location. A coded message to the Castle of Lions that indicated your exact whereabouts yesterday, and they fell right into my trap.” Zarkon then backed away, his voice booming. “Well, at least I thought it was a trap. I thought that they would show up, you would deal with them accordingly, and they would’ve either ended up my prisoners or dead. But that didn’t happen. Why didn’t that happen, Commander?”
Keith sank back into the throne, reaching unconsciously to unfasten the top button of the high collar on his uniform. “Can I help it if I was shot?”
“Commander, you had plenty of time to subdue the pilot of Red Lion long before you were shot.”
Damn surveillance. “You assumed that I would shoot my friend? My friend, who I’ve known for fourteen years?”
“Why not? One of them shot you.”
Keith said nothing.
Why did Lance shoot him? No, no…it was Sven. He remembered Sven in the doorway. Had they meant to kill him? No, of course they didn’t. Keith remembered Lance saying something about “getting him out of there,” but he couldn’t recall much else. He could remember a flash of light just before being hit and…
“It is a good thing that I was watching, or else you would be back on earth right now, fending off charges of high treason in front of a Garrison judicial committee. The last I heard, it was a crime punishable by death. I would think that execution due to high treason would be one of the most dishonorable ways to end one’s life, don’t you agree?”
Keith knew that Zarkon was just trying to rattle him, but it was true. All of it. The Galaxy Garrison would just love to get their grimy little hands on him now. Most likely, the entire galaxy knew by now. If the GG didn’t get him, someone else would first. Maybe his friends had come to kill him to spare him the humiliation of being charged with such a dishonorable crime.
Just thinking about it made his head ache. And then suddenly, the hot, jabbing pains were back with a vengeance. Keith put a hand to his parietal brain.
“What’s the matter, Commander? You’re looking a little peaked.”
Keith managed to rise to his feet. “What do you expect? You get me knocked up on this drug , and you expect me to be function when I don’t even…she’s not even…I can’t think.” As the room started to rotate, he took hold of Zarkon to steady himself. “I can’t even keep one…clear thought. Looks like you’ve won, Your Highness. I’m as good…as dead.”
He then felt himself fall back onto the throne.
Through the haze, he heard a voice. “I will give you the Princess Allura. A man needs a wife.”
Allura - the one sane thought that hadn’t left him throughout this entire nightmare. He would do anything to feel her warm body in his arms again…touch her soft skin. The one bright light in his tormented life, and he had destroyed it so utterly and horribly. She would never come to understand the Greater Good; he knew that now. They would never be together. And deep down, he knew that she could never love him now. The dream was over.
“Please, just kill me.”
He then felt the comfortable, familiar swirl of darkness cloud his mind over. Only this time, he wasn’t looking for unconsciousness in it; he was hoping to find death.
Haggar had watched the wind currents shift over the past twelve hours with mounting curiosity. Times like these, she truly wished that she could foretell the future; it would save her the anxiety that she was feeling in her twisted, rotting gut.
More than once, she had been tempted to intervene over the past days, but this situation was on its own course, and a witch was never to interfere if the spirits didn’t allow it. And even the spirits that she worshiped, the dark spirits, warned her to stay clear.
The end was near. The moon was supposed to be at half tonight, and it was full, and the winds were blowing intermittently in all four directions. Yes, change was coming. She only wished that she knew how it would all come to pass. She hovered intently over her crystal ball to see if the spirits would lend a hint.
“Spirits of the Dark Dwelling! It is I, Haggar, your humble servant who asks you to favor me with vision and knowledge! Tell me what I can do to bring the unrest of the Spirit World to an end! Tell me what I must know!”
And then a vision took shape from within the smoky confines. At first, all she could see was a faint outline of color. But then she saw it. Saw it, but hardly believed it. The fair Princess Allura, who all thought was as pure a the newly fallen snow, was with child. Not far along at all; only a day perhaps, but she was definitely pregnant. And the father, she saw his face also. The unknowing Commander was an expectant father. This was no doubt the result of his little “secret” impromptu visit to Arus the other night. But then Haggar saw another vision…the foreboding of misfortune on the horizon. Hazy at first, it was becoming clearer…
“Haggar!”
The voice startled her. She had been so intent on the vision that she hadn’t sensed anyone approaching. She looked back to her glass, but it was too late. The vision was gone.
Haggar looked up see Zarkon slowly making his way into her laboratory, all but dragging the Commander behind him.
“Isn’t there a better way of doing that, Zarkon?”
“He’s heavier than he looks.” The king dropped the unconscious Commander to the floor, earning a loud ‘thud.’
Haggar walked over to observe the situation. “What did you do to him?”
“I think we just have a little overdose situation going on right now. Give him some of the antidote. Not a lot; just enough to bring him around. He’ll be of no use to me if he goes insane…or dies, for that matter.”
“He’s neither good to you sane or insane, Zarkon.” She backed a few steps away before saying what she knew she must. “This will all end badly, Zarkon. You know that. When it’s all over, he’ll die before he truly gives in to the demons that haunt him.”
“Haggar, just give him the antidote.”
The witch sighed in resignation and went to her brew cabinet and pulled out a small vile and an injection needle.
“You have nothing to worry about, witch. He’ll be fine. However, I do think we should bring the Princess Allura to Doom and into our little family sooner than initially planned. She seems to be the only thing that’s keeping his mind there.”
Haggar knelt down and quickly administered the injection, a shot in the external jugular in the neck. It bled profusely.
“The effort is futile, my King. It is true that his demons are many, but they aren’t enough to keep him here. He’ll either destroy us or himself in trying to get out. And another thing,” Haggar hesitated, “Allura is pregnant.”
Zarkon’s expression was not what Haggar had expected. Other than surprised, he appeared…pleased. “Lovely! We’ll have a new addition to the family.”
Zarkon read the astonishment on her face. “You see, Haggar? Now the stakes are higher. What man would want to jeopardize his baby and the woman he loves? Everything is working out perfectly, and soon, Arus and Voltron will be in the hands of the Empire.”
“And what of the rest of the Voltron force?”
“They must all die, of course. They’re dangerous, even without Voltron.”
Zarkon paused before turning to leave. “Oh ye of little faith, Haggar. Why would you doubt my plan’s eventual success?”
“My King, the spirits do not look fondly on mortals who interfere with fate. I fear that your plan is doomed to fail. I just hope that all of us are not doomed as well.”
There would be no retort. Zarkon had already gone.
Almost instantly, she heard a noise that had her turned around.
The Commander was already on his feet. “I need your help,” he said between heavy breaths.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Everything that I needed to. Haggar, I need your help. I need more of whatever it was that you gave me. It was an antidote, right?”
She really would have given it to him, but she had no more to give. Zarkon would know it if there was more missing. “There isn’t any left, but it’s grown from an Arusian berry… You heard everything?”
Keith nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixated on an imaginary something on the floor. “I can’t believe that my baby…is going to have a baby.” He looked up at Haggar with the most dazed expression she’d ever seen on the level-headed captain. “My Allura is pregnant? How do you…how did you…know?”
“I’m a witch, genius boy. Think really hard and you might be able to figure it out.”
Keith didn’t even pause to be offended by the sarcasm. He had to hurry if he was going to get to Arus and back without being detected. He had to warn her. No, he had to do better than that. He had to find a safe place for her. Zarkon had plans to bring her to Doom, and Keith could never watch his flower wither on this dingy, stinking hole of a planet. She deserved more…his baby deserved more. And even if they would have to exist without him, he would do them the final favor of ensuring them a life of freedom away from war, death, devastation, and fear. It would be away from Arus and the life that she knew, but at least she would be safe to raise their baby in quiet happiness. He could fulfill his personal oath to himself and give her a life of peace, and then maybe just the thought of that would be enough to keep him going. But he had to move quickly…before Zarkon did.
“Haggar, you must help me.” He startled her by grabbing both her arms forcefully. He was flush, his pupils still dilated in a drugged haze. “I need you to block out the alarms and sensors again with your witchcraft. All I need is ten minutes to escape the atmosphere. I need to get to Arus.”
“Look what happened the last time I did this for you.” Haggar studied the fierce expression of his forlorn face. “If I do, he’ll kill me.”
“If you don’t, I will kill you.”
Suddenly, Haggar knew that this was what she must do. This was what could restore the natural order. Reluctantly, she nodded, and together they left for the docking bay.
Little did either of them know, the walls of Castle Doom have ears and eyes, and someone else had been listening that night in the laboratory.
Lotor exited the electrical outer atmosphere of Doom and hit the high velocity burner of his winged space cruiser. His mind and heart were racing with what he’d just heard.
Allura. His precious Allura was pregnant with another man’s child. All he’d ever done was love her, and this is what he got for it.
Lotor wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his white-gloved hand.
He had no idea what he would do when he got to Arus, but something in his heart was pulling him there. All he knew was that he had to beat Keith and his father there. They only meant to hurt her. Only he could give her the protection and love that she needed.
His clenched his jaw in frustration at the thought of her in the arms of that…pompous, self-righteous, little man. What did he know about loving a woman like Allura? What did he say to her to get her into such a predicament? Had she given herself to him willingly?
The questions were endless, but he hadn’t time to ponder them right now. Now past the electrical interference, another craft was approaching from behind and closing fast. With a gigantic effort, he put all thoughts of her out of his head and concentrated on rerouting power to the engines. Within an hour, he was entering Arusian airspace. Promptly, he hit the ship’s cloaking device.