Battered and bruised, Lance made things a million times worse for himself and dissolved into a coughing fit. It was a surprise he could muster any power from his chest at all, considering how much pain he was in.

He rolled onto his side, trying desperately to get his breath back.

"We've got a live one," a male voice to his side said, the accent reminiscent of Earth's English accent.

"Make that two," a female voice answered with the same accent. Lance peered over to see Lotor lying on his back, breathing heavily, eyes still firmly closed. The bottom of his vision was tinged blue and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them back in focus. His head felt groggy, and his fingertips were still tingling.

The orb that had caused him so much pain lay lifeless between him and the prince, now void of any mystical energy. An empty, glass ball.

"Can you stand?" A hand appeared at his side, and gratefully he took it, relying heavily on it to help him get back to his feet. He turned to thank the stranger beside him, now noticing just how painful and dry his throat was. Must have been from all the screaming…

"Tha-" His sentence died on his tongue as he took in the person who had helped them.

He was tall, taller than Lance, with dark skin and the most mesmerising green eyes. Atop his head was a shock of white hair, styled in what Lance could only describe as a pixie cut (mainly because the guy literally looked like a fairy and Lance couldn't think of any non-fae related descriptions. He reminded Lance vaguely of the elves in his Grandmother's favourite movie series, only without the ridiculously long hair). From his ears hung green earrings, similar to those Allura wore. Below his eyes, curving above his sharp cheekbones, two pale green markings glowed gently.

Lance should have placed the Altean accent sooner.

Dread swirled in his gut, his mind tracing back to the last Alteans he had met. They had not been friendly.

"My, oh my," The Altean fairy proclaimed quietly, pinning Lance with his gaze, "What an interesting cross."

"Half human, according to the DNA scan," The other Altean said. She was staring intently at a holographic screen hovering above her wrist, black hair pulled sharply back into a ponytail. Blue markings glowed beneath her dark eyes, and her ears twitched absentmindedly as she read.

"Human?" The male Altean questioned. "Are you sure?"

"95% positive."

"Funny," He chuckled. "I thought we left that strange little planet alone – after all, they had little to offer the Empire." He shook his head in confusion, as though trying to work out the motives of a child intent on eating as much dirt as they possibly could, "They should have been a fairly advanced race. But they were far too busy waring with themselves to make any real advancements."

"Primitive," She confirmed with a nod.

Lance had been to an unfriendly universe before that was overrun with Alteans. But really, of all the universes out there, what were the chances that he had wound up in the same place again?

He was sure Pidge would have been able to figure the maths out. All he could say on the matter was that he was not the luckiest of paladins.

"Erm, hi," He said uneasily, his throat rasping. He felt awkward having them stare at him as though he were a specimen in a museum. He extended his hand to shake theirs, but after a long moment of them merely staring at his outstretched fingers, he quickly retracted it. "It's nice to meet you."

Pixie-face smirked at him. "Jordia, bring up his lineage – I want to know who's been visiting that ball of dirt illegally. We should not have unregistered half breeds running amok."

The woman – Jordia? – nodded and started searching through her screen. She bit her lip, seeming to read and reread the same section several times.

"What is it?" Pixie-face snapped impatiently.

"Sir, it appears… well, the scanner must be wrong." She hurriedly walked over to show him what she was seeing, unable to describe what she was seeing. "It seems to be… a very old line."

PF stared at the screen for 10 solid ticks. "Too old for this to be possible. The scanner must be wrong." He quickly tapped on the screen several times. "There! See – he died millennia ago, with no successors. The scanner is wrong. We will need to retest when we get back to headquarters."

Lance coughed uncomfortably, reminding himself of the ache in his ribs. "As lovely as a trip to headquarters sounds," He said, wearing his winning smile, "I'm afraid my… associate and I really must be going." He gestured to Lotor, the useless lump lying unhelpfully on the floor.

"What about the other one," PF said, paying Lance no mind.

"The system says cross, again." Jordia reported. "With…with…?" She smacked at the band at her wrist, trying to change whatever the screen was telling her. PF grabbed her arm to still the screen, taking in the few sentences about Lotor.

He narrowed his eyes, "There is definitely something wrong with this scanner. Half Galra? The Galra haven't been seen in 10,000 years." He dropped her arm, frustrated with what he had read. "Absolute nonsense. Be sure to upgrade your equipment when we return."

She nodded obediently, muttering an ashamed 'sir' in response.

Dread was building inside Lance – as the minutes passed he was more and more sure he had managed to return to the Altean universe. And he knew first-hand how unfriendly these people were to anyone outside their own race.

Granted, he was apparently 'a cross'. But that was information he hadn't processed yet. And besides, they obviously weren't too fond of half breeds either.

He needed a 100%, complete Altean. And with his ears and lack of cheek markings, there was only one man for the job.

He rushed to Lotor's side before the Alteans, sinking down beside him and trying 'desperately' to rouse him. "Sir, sir – are you okay?" He said, biting down on the rising sarcasm in his chest. He turned Lotor's face towards him and pushed down on the surprise he felt when he saw purple marks glowing on Lotor's cheek bones. That was new – luckily they should help sell his story.

The two Alteans looked on. He looked up at them graciously, "Your scanners are wrong," He tried to assure them. "He is a true Altean – look at his face. You can't deny that."

"We could say the same of your face," PF chuckled, clearly amused at Lance's display. "Besides, the man is bright purple."

"Alteans can change their skin colour," Lance argued, remembering when Allura had turned galran purple before their very eyes. "He was born with a condition – his colour thingy is broken. He's stuck like this."

'And look at his hair – you can't deny that he isn't Altean!' was another point he wanted to make, but a part of him felt for some reason that it wouldn't him win them over.

PF rolled his eyes towards Jordia with a half-amused smirk on his face. "This is why we shouldn't be mixing bloodlines."

"He means my chromatophores," Lotor's suddenly said as he finally opened his eyes and managed to sit up. Lance suspected he had been pretending to sleep and merely listening to the conversation, but he couldn't exactly go asking him now. "I have no control over them, and never have. They've been stuck like this my whole life." Lotor lied seamlessly, pushing his accent closer to that of the Alteans. Lance could see the two visibly relax at the prospect of meeting a fellow countryman.

Lance pretended to fuss over him as Lotor tried to stand. "That will be all," Lotor instructed, and Lance stepped back diligently.

He wasn't happy about this situation, and the way Lotor had ordered him about so casually made his blood boil. But he was afraid to get on the bad side of these Alteans – he had seen how they treated outsiders before. Better to present his 'leader' and remain quiet. For now.

Until he could think of a better plan.

Lotor held himself with princely confidence, strutting towards the two before him as though they were nothing. "Lotor, of Altea. And you are?" He asked with an unimpressed raise of an eyebrow.

PF appeared unabashed. "Emnor, of the Glyxia colony. This is my subordinate," He said with a nod towards Jordia who dutifully remained on her scanner.

"A pleasure," Lotor assured with a smile.

"What business do you have in this quadrant?" Emnor asked.

"Why, we were just making our way back to Altea." Lotor never once broke eye contact.

"To Altea?"

"Where else?"

"You're several galaxies away from your destination."

"Yes…" Lotor paused briefly. "We were simply taking the scenic route home."

Emnor squared the prince up in his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "What happened on this ship? Were you attacked?"

"A systems failure," Lance's voice burst out as he saw Lotor scrambling for a response. "We ran out of oxygen."

Lotor glared at Lance, clearly having picked up on the Altean's dislike of him. Lance averted his eyes, pretending to be embarrassed when he knew outright he had just saved Lotor's butt.

"The oxygen levels were perfectly fine when we came aboard," Emnor said suspiciously.

"They must have managed reset." Lotor smiled knowingly, "Lucky for us."

"Indeed," Emnor said slowly. "You both required resuscitation."

Lotor shook his head with a quiet laugh, "Oh how embarrassing – I do apologise for all the trouble we have caused you. Lance," He snapped, "Make sure our systems are scheduled for a full work up when we return to Altea – evidently the ship is in need of a few upgrades."

Lance nodded reverently. Lotor seemed to pause for a moment, staring at Lance for more of a reaction.

Lance's jaw clenched. "Yes, sir," He said through gritted teeth.

Satisfied and smug, Lotor turned back to Emnor. "Well, if that is all, I will thank you for your assistance, but we really must get going." Lotor took a step back, gesturing to the ship's docking bay where they were firmly attached to an Altean ship.

"Not so fast," Emnor said. "We still need to bring you both to headquarters."

At this, Lotor's easy-going smile turned into a scowl. "Whatever for?" He said, clearly irritated.

"All Altean crafts require a registration, and a pass for their journey, clearly detailing their destination and reason for travel," Jordia said, finally lowering her wrist to look directly at Lotor. "Aside from the missing pass, I cannot find any registration documentation for this craft: you are flying a ship that has not been reported to the Empire, and therefore must be confiscated. You will need to come with us for questioning."

This was not going well. Lance could barely hear the soft spoken Alteans over the blood pounding in his ears. The situation was going downhill, and there was nothing he could do but watch. Anything he said was brushed off, or treated scornfully. He was at a disadvantage here, and Lotor wasn't having much better luck.

"Of course this ship is registered," Lotor said. His form was tense, as though trying to keep in control of every fibre in his body. "You said it yourself, your scanners clearly aren't working. They've made a number of mistakes already. Besides, what would two loyal Alteans such as ourselves have to gain from lying to the Empire?"

"Only one of you is a full Altean," Jordia stated. "And at present we are unable to determine even that."

"All the more reason to take a trip to headquarters," Emnor said smugly.

Lotor was losing ground – Lance could see. The prince wasn't getting his way, and it was frustrating him. Lotor's brow was furrowed and he was staring at Emnor as though his gaze alone would be able to burrow through the man.

What could Lance do? Was there any way he could help?

They were going to get taken to whatever these 'headquarters' were. The Alteans were going to find out who they were, and where they were from. They were going to find out what this ship could do, and bring a new war into the universe he regarded as home.

Voltron already had one war to worry about – they didn't need another one!

He opened his mouth as though he had thought of something useful say. At that moment, Lotor made the same move, both appearing as though they could resolve this situation with a few select words. An unlikely feat, and one neither of them had the chance to try and accomplish.

All of the lights on the ship went out: the room filled with darkness, the only light being the green, blue and purple of the Altean's cheeks, and that blue hue that still crowded Lance's vision. A moment later the entire ship jarred, knocking them all to the ground as a massive 'hiss' of air could be heard.

"Sir, the ship!" Jordia said in a panicked tone.

"It must be the Guns," Emnor said, clearly angry. "Radio the ship, tell them to take out the opposing spacecraft."

The Guns…?

Why did that ring a bell?

The ship shook violently as shots began firing, narrowly missing them.

"The shields aren't up," Lotor said, scrambling for the control desk. "We haven't got a chance in a shootout with no protection."

Lance tried to follow him, "We haven't got any power! What are we supposed to do?"

"Hold it, you two!" They both heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being drawn and charged. Lance froze: he had been through enough today without adding being shot to the list.

"Sir, there are too many of them," Jordia reported.

Emnor's concentration didn't break. Keeping his gun trained on Lance and Lotor, he said, "I will not have these insignificant rebel posers sending me running. Hold our ground!"

Lance was not enjoying how out of control he was in this situation. He and Lotor were standing frozen with their hands in the air, just waiting to be gunned down.

Jordia's screen turned red and started flashing, "We have taken a critical hit. The shield is down: we are taking heavy fire."

Emnor looked at Lance and Lotor, before sighing angrily and turning to face Jordia's screen. His earrings glowed green as he started giving instructions to the Altean ship in what to do next. Lance and Lotor looked at eachother, then quickly ducked behind the control console out of the line of fire.

"What is going on?!" Lance shouted, the rumble of the battle outside loud in his ears.

"How am I supposed to know?!" Lotor yelled back.

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault?"

Lance's eyes widened. "Of course it's your fault. Your stupid quest for more quintessence."

"I wanted to go to the realm of unlimited quintessence, not this place!" Lotor shouted. "Something must have gone wrong."

"The realm of unlimited quintessence filled with giant, evil monsters?" Lance was exasperated, his words coming out fast and angry. "This – this is why you don't go messing with the rift. It destroyed a planet last time – how did you think this time would pan out any better?"

"I was prepared-"

"Evidently not!"

The argument could have gone on for hours, but it was then that the silence struck Lance. No more rumblings of gunfire, no more muttered orders streaming from Emnor.

Taking a deep breath, Lance peeked over the top of the control console.

The room was empty.

"Lotor," Lance was suddenly whispering, "I think they abandoned ship."

Everything around them began shaking violently, the lights above them attempting to come back to life but only managing to flicker weakly. There was once again a hiss of air, and then nothing but an uncomfortable silence.

A new ship had docked with them.

"Hey, Lotor?" Lance asked, his voice very small in his throat.

"Mmh?" Lotor mumbled back. The pair of them looked a sight, both cowering behind the table, peering fearfully towards the room's entrance. Lance summoned his bayard, refusing to be caught unawares again.

"What do you think is bad enough to scare the Altean Empire, and send them running with their extremely advanced and deadly weaponry?"

"That," Lotor paused, mainly to be dramatic, "Is a very good question."

"Shall we call a truce for now?" Lance asked.

"That may be a good idea."

Lance nodded. He knew he couldn't trust Lotor as far as he could throw him, but better to have a partner in an enemy he knew than to stand alone against an unknown opponent.

An unknown opponent that would be coming though those doors any moment now.