Chapter One: A Want To Be Wanted

Voltron is called to rescue a Cargo Ship under fire from Space Pirates; a simple mission that should be easy enough. On board complications occupy the team while Lance runs into trouble of his own.

System: Nairn
Location: Outer Asteroid Belt

"Lay off Mullet," Lance drawled, his voice prickly, not the entire fault due to the Comms. "Just be thankful I didn't shoot, if not you would've had a face full of laser. Actually, maybe I should have. Then at least I'd been able to fix that atrocious mullet."

"Just try it Lance," Keith shot back, quick to keep the argument alive as they shot through the stars; both of their Lions just a few metres apart where they dared the other just to bump them, just a little, and reignite the argument they'd been dancing around all morning.

It wasn't uncommon for Keith and Lance to be found arguing, no matter where they were, nor the time of day. Sometimes the exchanges remained as quips that ended just as quickly as they began. Other times, with idle insults continuously thrown in "friendly-fire" fashion with no amount of animosity to be found, much like banter between two good friends, their argument simply started for change of pace.

The intensity of their confrontations was lukewarm at best.

This argument, however, was scalding.

Stemmed from an incident in the Training Room, involving both the Red and Blue Paladins, Keith and Lance continued their bickering as the Lions raced the expanse of Space with little mind to their current situation other than he's pissing me off and I'm going to mouth off at him.

They'd been at ends that morning anyway. Keith: grumpy from a late night of training – he was doing extra in his allocated "Free Time" so no one could tell him not to. Lance, on the other hand, was as happy as Cinderella, like every damned morning.

And, for some unknown reason, it had rubbed Keith up the wrong way.

Training had been completed quicker than usual, with Keith's flare of annoyance taken out on more than his fair share of Gladiators; amid the curses he threw at Lance. Lance was always quick to supply his own.

And just when everyone thought the pair had vented enough, a bunt from a Gladiator spear took Keith's feet out from under him and, resulting on him crashing to the ground. Painfully.

Pidge had the stray bot on the floor in two ticks flat, their bayard electrifying the joint between chest and neck.

But the damage was already done.

"Oi, ass-clown. What the Quiznak was that about?"

Keith had rounded on Lance, Bayard still in classic-sword style. Lance had never thought Keith would hurt him, but for half a second, his fingers turned to ice at the unfound thought, bringing up his own blaster mark as defence between himself and the Red.

Lance had been at the wrong end of countless 'bad-morning-Keith spats' but this anger that came at him like sparks held a different tension.

"What was what," was all he thought to reply with, his wit and charm stuffed somewhere with his 'Happy-Lance-Guise' temporarily stowed for training and concentrating purposes. An inner voice was telling him to tread lightly, but the confrontation was sudden, and Lance was unprepared; mind still wired in fight-mode.

"You left me open. That training-bot was yours to take out." Keith's glare sparked with that unusual anger, tongue quick at throwing personal jabs, not just back hand comments. "Were you too busy checking your hair was perfect or what?"

"Hey that's unfair," Hunk said, moving between them. Ever the team mom, there to dispel any fight before things became too harsh. He was the yellow Paladin for a reason.

Keith just stepped around his obstacle.

"No, it's not. Lance has hardly been hitting any this morning, leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack. He needs to get his act together."

The Blue Paladin took three steps closer, about to tell him that 'I couldn't take them out, because some mullet-brained moron was getting there first,' but the Castle's interior communication channel sounded first. "Paladins, we have another distress beacon concerning the raiders," Allura called, ending the training session early.

Under Shiro's guidance they had regrouped on the Bridge, Coran punched in the coordinates for the distress beacon and set off for its source.

The argument had been put on hold, but now with nothing else to distract them, Keith had dredged it up from whatever pit Lance had buried in it, and now they were continuing to have a go at one another like cats and dogs.

"Trust me. If I was shooting at you, I would've got a head shot."

Keith scoffed through the Comms. "I don't trust you Lance. And if you had, I would've just taken your head clean off your shoulders. It wouldn't have been hard." He says it like a challenge, baiting Lance to keep fighting.

The Blue is caught up from the sting of recalling words.

'I don't trust you.'

Lance ignored the prickling in his fingers, mind desperate for a retort that would knock Keith off his high-horse, but Shiro spoke first, cutting their argument short. "Stow it the pair of you," he said, voice taking the classic 'Dad Tone' adopted whenever he wanted to scold a certain someone because he believes him not to be listening.

"We're approaching the Ship now, so get in position."

"Aye aye Captain," Lance snubbed, redirecting his irritation from a certain wannabe-samurai to his knight in shining armour. He shoved the controls harder than needed, sending Blue forward with a burst of speed.

He hadn't meant to, but she listened to him anyway.

It was always in Blue that he didn't have to put up his physical front. He could take off his mask and be himself around her.

Lance hadn't let his walls down around her deliberately; not wanting to shame her for having a pathetic pilot for a Paladin.

But he had lowered his guard regardless, done simply from sheer exhaustion, back after the castle was attacked, the first night in his room after his near-death experience with the exploding not-Rover. Coupled with the home sickness, the severity of his commitment as a Paladin and the loneliness he felt so far away from home; Lance cried like a dam broke.

Quietly. He hadn't wanted anyone to hear him, wasn't sure if they could through the walls, but it would save him looking like a baby when he was meant to be a "Defender Of The Universe."

Someone had heard him though.

Someone bordering on sleep-stasis had felt the dark suffocating emotions and called out to him.

"Little Cub."

She had called out to him. She used his words, not just thoughts and ideas filling his mind, but words to call him softly, join him in his head-space and curl up around the small child that cried in the dark.

And with her, Lance had found peace. She brought him comfort and warmth, reminding him of a love that he had felt when wrapped in his mother's arms.

The comfort prickled his heart, but although painful, it was a good pain.

[My Little Cub is sad] she said in his mind: neither a statement nor question. Just an observation.

Lance debated talking about it, but with their current heading, decided right now wasn't a good time for a heart to heart. He dismissed her concern with wave of warmth, washing away his own irritation alongside it.

No Blue. It is just the usual arguing with Keith, is all. There's nothing to worry about.

She purred for him, leaning right to turn the unexpected speed-burst into a corkscrew manoeuvre, and Lance whooped in excitement as his stomach flipped.

Blue always knew how to cheer him up.

"Lance, this is no time for games," Shiro reminded him, words edged with that all-too-familiar sharpness.

Their Voltron Leader was sharing the Yellow cockpit with Hunk, who should've been taking point, as per the plan, as the three Lions closed in on their target: Space Pirates, attacking an innocent Cargo Ship.

Pidge, settled comfortably in the cockpit of Red, began their usual spiel of technical wizardry as Keith piloted them closer. The Green Paladin was hacking into their system, and couldn't really do that whilst piloting a Lion too. So, cabin buddies with Keith it was.

"The Pirates have got some kind of jamming signal on board. Shiro, if you guys land, it will knock out our Comms and we won't be able to talk to one another."

"Then how about you fix it before they land," Keith said before anyone offered a change of tactic. Pidge grumbled something unintelligible, most likely giving Keith their perfected dark glare. He didn't realise what had annoyed them, instead assuming the task too difficult. "What? You can't fix it?"

"Oh, I can fix it," Pidge growled, bristled from Keith questioning their genius. "I just hate it when people start assuming I can do things. Would be nice if you stop taking me for granted."

Lance listened to the pair's quick concession of low-animosity vocal spars, trying to push the noise to the back of his head before his irritation resurfaced.

He was the furthest in front, closest to the raiding ships.

And the first to fire at them.

"Cue the music guys, I'm going in."

There was a chorus of "no's" from the other Paladins, before a deafening screeching took their place. "Ow! What the hell is that?" But the Comms only echoed back the screeching; varying in levels of chatter. It was worse than white noise, flecked with brief moments of silence.

The jamming signal, of course.

"Blue, turn it off!" Lance yelled, trying to hear himself more than try to be heard by his Lion. He scrunched his face up, as if that would help drown out the noise, hands flying from the controls on instinct to clamp over his ears, only to be barred by his helmet.

[My Cub, danger!]

He opened an eye in time to see the Pirate's artillery machinery lining Blue up in their sights, scrambling quickly to grab at the controls. Half his attention remained focused on manoeuvring Blue into evasive action. The rest was taken by the noise that was bleeding his ears.

Lance and Blue were already between two of the ships; contrastingly different in their shapes and painted colour.

One was bathed in shades of burnt purple, lighter panels of worn metal spiking out in the front, high peaked fenders on the back engines. It resembled one of Lance's old toys; the bottom half of a robot whose arms and head had been ripped off when he and Luis fought over it.

The other was larger; longer and flatter as it hung in the space above the cargo ship, its bronze hull splashed in colours of blood, white teeth painted in jagged lines between the flat pincers of its figure head.

The ships were a part of a small fleet of "Pirate" ships targeting Cargo and Freight ships in the outer regions of the Nairn System. Currently, they were the Paladin's main concern, aside from the Galra threat. Shiro had made it clear that Voltron were to protect the people, not just from Galra but all threats. Pirates included.

Using both ships as cover and a trap all at once, Lance slammed on the reverse thrusts, his seat harness pulling tight as Blue stopped dead, tail swishing as she wanted to attack herself. Not yet Blue, we've got to wait, he told her, grinning at Shark-Tooth and Headless, daring them to play ball.

One tick.

Using the brief respite of cease-fire, Lance's fingers drummed the keypad in rushed rhythm, cutting the bleeding noise of the jamming signal into radio silence. Comms down wasn't a good battle strategy, but Lance had no other choice if he wanted to keep his ability of hearing.

Two ticks.

Lights glowed at the bow of each ship, the barrels of barrage weapons aimed at his Lioness.

Three ticks.

"Anchors away Blue!" Controls forward, pedals to the floor, Blue shot forward on command, just as two rail guns fired simultaneously. Their lasers, instead of finding purchase in Blue's body, hit the target of opposite pirate ship instead, scorch marks adding to the detail of both.

"Woo, nice one," Lance yelled, barrel rolling down beside Spiky Mc Headless toward its underbelly, hiding himself in the ship's blind spot. The Pirates weren't playing around however, their guns once more lining up for the Cargo Ship, whose engines were dead; the ship and its crew sitting ducks.

"Woah, not on my watch!" Lance growled, Blue's tail-gun whipping around to shoot a decorative line of scorch marks into the ship's underbelly, aiming for the engines, but the shields were up. "Damn it. Quick Blue! We've got to get in front and draw their fire away."

They both shot forward together, angle of the spin about to bring them up once again in between gun and cargo ship, but suddenly there was Red.

Sword in mouth, claws out to balance her incoming spin, she sliced across the barrel of the nearest rail gun before it could open fire. Yellow, charging in from behind, slammed into the side of Shark-Tooth's painted grin, knocking the ship off course, snapping the connecting harpoons from the vessel it preyed upon.

The cargo ship was released but made no effort to escape.

"They're getting away," Lance yelled, watching both Pirate Ships charge up their engines for a hasty retreat.

No, not this time, Lance thought angrily, determined not to let them get away. They had attacked far too many people, and this was the closest they had ever been to a raid. Usually they'd swing in afterwards, left simply to pick up the crew and ferry them to the nearest trader hub so they could procure a ship ride home.

This time though, they could actually fight the pirates, take out the ships and save a lot more aliens in the future.

The one that was all spikes, no head, forced its engines into frenzy, just as Blue's ice blast aimed for its bridge. Leaving Shark-Tooth to Hunk and Keith, Lance gave chase, sending a barrage of shots towards the purple ship's engine. One sputtered and stopped, but the other six still worked, taking it to safety.

Lance steered himself to a vantage point again, dodging the rail guns, when suddenly Red was in front of him, faces close together. "What the— Keith get out the way!"

But Comms were down and Keith couldn't hear him yelling.

Lance fingered the buttons until the familiarly irritating noise of Keith's voice met his ears. More specifically, his left: his right remained out of action from the Jammers.

"—not even listening are you? I said get back to the cargo-ship!"

"We can't let them get away," Lance shot back, darting under Red to look for Shark-Tooth.

Only, Shark-Tooth was gone.

All that remained was the Cargo-ship, floating on its side, slowly beginning to sink towards the asteroid current.

Yellow was approaching the main damage near the hangar bay doors; Hunk and Shiro ready to help the crew. The Castle joined them beside the ship, using its own gravitational pull to steady the ship.

"Ship secure Princess," came Coran's chirpy voice.

They had it all under control. They didn't need Lance right now, he was free to track down the Pirates and—

"C'mon Lance, leave the Pirates. We have to check on the Crew first."

"But Shiro-" We can't let them leave. This will just happen again. If they leave, they'll attack another ship and we'll have more battles, and they'll have more victims.

"We don't have time for mutiny," Pidge said, always happy to add salt to wounds, they're smug little grin popping up on his feed. "Besides, I've already thrown a signal into their transmissions, hijacking the jammer frequency, so the next time they send out any sort of beacon, we'll get their immediate location and we can go chase them then."

"But-"

"Not now Lance!"

The feeds shut off, not giving Lance room to voice his argument. It was sound, it wasn't bratty, and it was for a good reason.

Lance sighed to himself, pulling off his helmet quick to palm his eyes.

[My Cub. What is wrong?] came the warm comfort of his Lioness. Nothing, Lance sighed, his anger washing away with her words. Come on; let's go help Shiro and Hunk. No doubt they'll be needing the expert help of the team sharpshooter.

Blue purred again for him, her warmth pressed up against the pain in his mind, soothing the headache that was beginning to appear from the loud noise of the jamming signal. He wasn't worried. Five minutes in the Cryo-pod would heal it back to perfection.

Lance entered the main hangar just after Hunk and Shiro did, setting Blue down beside them. She sealed the hole with her ice beam, in hopes of containing what little oxygen may still be trapped around the ship, if there was any…

The Paladins met in the dead-space, the artificial-gravity function of their boots holding them to the floor while the lights of their visors flickered to life, combating the gloom of the wrecked hold. Together they surveyed the damage; from the floating debris that had been flung into support columns, to the huge hole that stood where the hangar doors once did.

The debris and darkness made it hard to see far.

"Shiro… the crew, you don't think that… that maybe they're all… that we're too late?"

Hunk's voice was small, even though the Comms relayed his words right into Lance's ear – still only one functioning – his worry echoed in their leader's mask of devastation. "We can't be certain Hunk. There may be some parts of the ship that remain intact. Let us hope the crew have gathered there."

"Let us hope," Lance repeated; the first to step forward towards the gloom.

But as he did, a loud crash resounded in the silence, freezing the paladins where they stood, their bayards suddenly drawn from flight-or-flight instincts that two years in space had grown within them. Movement and the echo of scraping metal pulled Lance's blaster towards the far end of the hangar.

Behind them, Yellow and Blue raised their particle barriers, sensors on alert. They didn't like this ship.

It's okay Blue, Lance said, sending splashes of reassurance to his Lion, although how efficient that was as he looked down the scope of his blaster, he couldn't say.

Waiting, waiting…

And there, in a little green-and grey space suit, came a little alien; boots lighting up yellow from its own gravity functions that kept the creature stuck to the floor. He ducked the broken metal, giving it minor nudges to send the broken components from his path, scrambling towards the Paladins who had lowered their weapons.

The Alien, Lance able to classify as a Trigamon, from the planet: Griezian Slur, ran right up to the three, breathing deeply, on the verge of panic. "Paladins of Voltron! Praise the Sun, you've come to help us. Thank you for chasing away the monsters," he said, body bending in a quick respective bow. "But we still need assistance. Some of our crew are trapped on the lower deck of the ship. The power has gone and we can't prise the doors open by ourselves!"

The poor thing wringed its hands, body trembling where it stood, glancing up between sympathetic faces. His visor was all wet from tears that streamed down his face, his little nose twitching nervously.

Another followed, not as quick, perhaps more frightened as he watched his brethren cling desperately to Hunk who bent down to comfort him. He was but a child compared to the Paladins, his reach barely passing their hips. Even to Pidge, the Trigamon race was small of stature; this trait of theirs not helping them when they needed brute force to prise open the doors and save the remaining crew.

"Elmore, will they help us?" the second Alien asked, hiding behind the warped metal of a shipment crate, much like a child cowers behind their mother's skirt.

"Of course we will help," Shiro said in the green Alien's place, raising himself up like he was about to make a speech. "Lead us to your trapped crew. We'll help you get them out."

"But what about the pirates?" Hunk asked, looking back to the hole of the Cargo-ship.

It was sealed with Blue's ice beam to help with the pressurisation of the inner ship, but that wouldn't happen until the engines were restarted and the emergency oxygen supply was released from the containments of the evacuation deck.

"That is why we've got Keith and Pidge on the outside," Shiro said, dropping his gaze, addressing the two remaining Paladins. "Keith, you remain on lookout—"

"No need," Pidge interrupted, the sound of their smug little grin clear through the Comms. "I've got that tracker system working Shiro. They're not here, in fact they're nowhere near us. The readings say that they've stopped on the slip-side of Nix."

"Nix? Are you sure?" Allura sounded worried, or perhaps a little confused. "Unless they've got portal technology they shouldn't be able to cover that distance in the short amount of time. Nix is four Varga at full thrusters power from our location. There's no way they should be able to cover that distance."

Coran was quick to assure the Princess that only the Castle of Lions was capable of that technology, and the ability to develop such space travel was lost with the destruction of Altea. "It is not just the Technology Princess. Portal technology isn't capable without Altean Magic, which was infused from the ore that was used in the creation of the Lions, or the Castle."

"Which leaves the question Coran, how were they able to jump from the Nairn System to the Karta XI System in the space of seven Dobosh. It shouldn't be possible."

"Maybe they had some wicked cool boosters," Lance offered, also staring at the makeshift seal of the once-gaping hole in the side of the spaceship. This wasn't just some patch job. They were going to have to evacuate the Aliens and find them a brand new space craft.

The pirates, although having been chased off quickly, were able to do some lasting damage to the ship's outer hull. Their lasers had also been targeting the ship's engines, in turn crippling their internal power system. Smart.

"You can't go after them," Shiro said, holding a hand up to silence Pidge in his ear, the customary irritated gifted to Lance; who, for once, wasn't turning this whole shenanigan into a joke.

The look and tone from the Leader got the Sharpshooter's back up and unwisely poured irritation into his own voice. "But Shiro, I can—"

"Be of better use to us here, rather than chasing off after the Pirates. This isn't a game Lance," the Black Paladin pushed, turning to Hunk, waiting for his two cents in case the boy thought to contradict Shiro's judgement. Hunk was too busy reassuring the Trigamon Aliens. Elmore was certainly a lot calmer than his friend, Wilt, yet Hunk's soothing charms were working wonders on the distraught little creature.

"Our first priority is the crew," Shiro continued, looking towards the existential damage like Lance.

He eyed the wreaked doorway in which Elmore and Wilt had come from. "We'll need to get to where they're trapped and assess the damage, to see if we'll be able to prise the doors open ourselves."

"Do you want us in there?" Keith tried again, playing the angle of leaving Allura and Coran on the castle to play watchdog duty.

"No Keith, stay outside and keep an eye on any approaching vessels. Red has better manoeuvrability than that of the castle, so if a fire-fight does happen, you'll be able to provide support. We know there are more than two ships out there, so keep your eyes peeled. Pidge, keep tracking the ships. Tell me if they start moving again, the direction and speed. Try to monitor how they're moving so quickly."

"Rodger," the Paladins replied in unison, the Comms crackling into silence.

Lance stared up at Blue, her particle barrier still raised and the faint waves of uncertainty. She didn't like this ship.

In turn, Lance continued to feel uneasy, his lion's sixth sense adopted as his own. "Shiro, I still think—"

"Lance. Let us just sort out the ship first," the man said with a sigh, much like a mother getting fed up with explaining the reason why to a child who just won't listen. "You can go play Pirate Hunter when the Aliens are safely escorted off the ship."

The boy scowled at his leader's choice of words. He didn't want to go play Pirate Hunter. He wanted to stop the Aliens that were hurting others, just like the innocents on this ship.

And if it meant he was able to enjoy shooting up the Rouge ships, then that was just an added bonus, wasn't it.

The group set off then, silence the only thing between them as they traversed the labyrinth of dimly-lit corridors of steel walls, broken by archways leading off to more corridors and large storage rooms. None however, led the Trigamons where they wanted to go as the group continued down what looked like the main corridor. There was little debris floating now, although the grav-functions of the boot made walking just a little harder than Lance liked as he followed the pale blue suit of Wilt. Elmore had taken a liking to Hunk it seemed; sticking close beside him, holding his hand like a five year old would to their mother. The notion made Lance smile.

He watched the Aliens with mild curiosity at first, but now he respected them in the way they were: calming their own fears to focus on the task of rescuing their brethren.

"The doors are just up ahead," Wilt called, turning to look over his shoulder, fear on his blue furry face.

"He reminds me of Stitch just a little bit," Lance laugh quietly with Hunk, watching the way Elmore clung to his arm as their pace quickened.

"No one has time for your lame jokes Lance, you're on a rescue mission," Keith bit through the Comms, obviously having left the channel open in case Shiro called for backup.

Lance felt his brow furrow. Then smoothed it. "I wasn't joking about. I was making a scientific observation."

"No, you're just being distracting." He mumbled something about if he was down here, but Lance just tuned it all out.

Blue mewled in his mind, the nervous little way that sent shivers up his spine like he'd been dunked in a bath of ice water. "Stop it," he hissed when Blue mewled again, the words spoken with words rather than with his and Blue's mind-link.

"No Lance, you stop it," Keith bit, thinking Lance's irritation was aimed at him. "Keith I meant—"

"You should take this seriously, considering your screw up this morning."

"You're still hampering on about that—"

"You almost shot me!" Keith's voice was halfway between a shout and a screech, making the mic sing three octaves higher than anyone wanted. But it wasn't as bad as the Jammer noise. Lance's ear was still out of commission.

But before Lance could fight his corner, argue that "I hadn't shot you, nor was I aiming for you so get over it you big baby" lo and behold their mighty leader swooped in with "Enough!" his voice raised and stilling the argument that fizzled into narrowed eyebrows and evils focused on dark corridor walls.

"We have a mission guys, so let's stick with—"

"But he started it," Lance whined. And yeah, it may have been childish, but he didn't want the blame for an argument he didn't start. He wasn't looking for confrontation, and sure it was a misunderstanding between them that caused this one to continue, but with Keith's bad mood it seemed confrontation was all he was getting from the Red Paladin lately.

He almost preferred the brooding silence. Almost.

"Shiro—"

"NO!"

Shiro's shout echoed through the wide open space of the silent ship, making the small Trigamons jump. Elmore latched onto Hunk, Wilt cowering behind his leg.

Lance, fed up with getting the blame, all the damn time, took a step forward, challenging his leader. Shiro shot him a look, but Lance only got the man's name out before a heavy silence filled his helmet following a large click. His own voice sounded stuffy and muffled to his own ears; the static of Comms gone.

Wide eyes he turned to Hunk, fearing if his other ear had blown from accumulated pressure, and now he was deaf until the time he found his way inside a Cryo-pod.

But Hunk didn't seem worried. He wore a look of pity instead. "Pidge turned your Comms off to stop you bickering," came the muffled voice of his friend. It was like they were underwater, the very little oxygen remaining in the air just enough to allow the vibrations of Hunk's voice to reach Lance's ears.

The fuck?

They put him on mute!

"Pidge change it back," he growled, but the little fucking Gremlin couldn't hear him from where they were nestled happily in Red's cockpit.

Shiro can't hear him either, although they're only stood five metres away from one another. Instead of listening to Lance's pissed-off spiel, he's looking up at the huge doors they're stood in front of. They're big enough that Yellow could've pranced through them easily, but that also means that the Paladins aren't going to be able to open them with brute force alone.

"Hello, hello is there someone there?"

A tiny muffled voice came from the barricaded doors, all soft and quiet but loud enough that the group could hear. The Trigamon Aliens rushed towards it. "Mohr's! Mohr's, the Paladins of Voltron have come to save us."

"Praise the Suns and Stars," the voice replied, fear vanishing quickly. More chorused together in jubilant praise, the clicking of feet sounding as the Aliens rushed towards the still-closed door. It seemed the entire crew were beyond those doors. Save for Elmore and Wilt. How very…. Convenient.

"Elmore, the power, we can't reboot it from the room," Mohr's explained, the clicking quietening down so she could be heard through the five tonne of repurposed metal blast doors. "The escape pods are operational, so rerouting power to the outer access doors can give us leave."

"We can blast them from outside," Hunk offered but Lance shook his head. "It could cause structural damage to the parts of the ship that still remain air tight. Opening that to space may crumple the entire ship and crush the crew. The only choice is to power the doors and open them." Lance placed a hand on the blast door. "The inner doors have to remain closed, or the ship will crumple around Yellow and Blue. We can't risk it."

The Blue Paladin turned to his team, awaiting their judgement. Instead, he was ignored. Or perhaps unheard, as Shiro and Hunk conversed, listening to Pidge and Keith add their two cents while Lance was outcast. Fucking again.

"Keith has got a point. The only way this will work is to reroute power–" that's what I just said, "—so we've got three jobs. Keith, get Red to wait outside the access doors. If the escape pods have been damaged you'll have to catch them. Hunk, go back to Yellow. You can provide support for Keith, but you'll have to wait until the doors open to leave. Like Pidge said, if you leave too early, all the accumulated oxygen will rush out and the ship will crumple like a tin can.

"Lance, you'll need to head to the power grid. Once I patch the problem in the engines, you can power up the ship. There probably won't be much of a window, so you'll have to open the hangar doors before the ship's system automatically shut down again."

Lance gave a swift nod, knowing that if he spoke, he'd probably say something stupid and just be told to shut up again.

Instead he turned to the little Trigamon still clutching Hunk's leg. "Where is the power system at," he asked. Elmore pointed down the Eastward Corridor. "It's the fourth corridor on the right. There's an elevator that leads to the top corridors."

"Rodger."

Lance was given a dismissive nod by his teammates, but he ignored them, like they ignored him. Instead he turned and made his way down the corridor away from the large, quiescent doors. He tapped at the Comms as he went, but all he received was static. Well, it was certainly better than listening to everyone talk when he couldn't talk back.

The spaceship reminded Lance of one of those abandoned houses from those cheesy horrors, that won't stand to let go of the flickering light and creaking floorboard clichés.

Replace the flickering light with a slow, dull pulse of a red emergency light and the creaking floorboards with the empty tap of armoured boot on metal plating, and Lance had successfully entered the set of a tacky sci-fi horror flick. No doubt a horrible experiment-gone-wrong lurked in one of the many corridors, and considering his muted-Comms system, he wouldn't be able to warn the remaining team of the horror that lurked in the deep.

Lance failed to suppress a shudder, shaking off the creeping feeling of his spine.

Blue mewled again but he assured her it was his own brain freaking him out. "I'm good Blue. It's just me over thinking things again. But thanks," he said as he walked, eye out for the elevator shaft or a large room that would allow him to use his suits jet pack to boost him up to the top floor.

Lance continued on, and although he wished to ignore the feeling of horror-film-protagonist, it was hard to ignore the ominous silence; the floating debris of destroyed doorways and empty rooms. Mostly from the pirates ransacking the hold, he thought to himself, passing one door that looked like it had been ripped clean off its hinges.

The blast residue, and the scorch marks assured Lance it wasn't the Incredible Hulk, which was marginally better than a bomb-happy alien space pirate.

Lance poked his head into the room, flashing the light from his helmet into the gloom, for all the good it did. The room remained stubbornly dark.

No emergency lights flashed in there, and presuming it was a dead end, Lance didn't feel the need to explore and deeper. He continued on.

The radio silence unnerved him. He debated turning it back on, if only to listen to the crackling, wondering if the crew had turned his own microphone back on.

But Lance stopped at the thought of listening to them talk about him behind his back. No, they wouldn't, said a tiny voice, but it was drowned out by the others. They muted me, he heard Angriness hiss. I am on the team as well. They don't have to treat me like I'm a kid.

You were acting like a kid, said Reason, helpful as always. "I just wanted to help," Lance mumbled, spotting the fourth corridor on the left, slipping down it. He clicked his heels, turning off the grav-function, enabling himself to swim in the dead-space, alternating between booster pack and spring boarding off the walls. Using the thrusters was faster, but the over-propulsion and debris obstacles made it harder. Besides, this was more fun.

"Oh no, you can't have fun Lance," he said sarcastically, imitating Shiro's tone. "Got to stay serious, got to be the good solider that follows orders without question. Why can't you be more serious like Keith? He's a good soldier.

Or hey, be useful like Pidge or Hunk. They're smart; they don't turn everything into a game. Even Coran is useful and he doesn't drive a Castle of a fucking Lion. Be more like him. Be anyone except yourself."

The angry tirade shot a spike of hurt through Lance's body, and although they were his own words, they still fucking hurt.

He tapped his wrist, trying the Comms again. But the radio silence confirmed Pidge's earlier statement that she had muted him, and they hadn't heard his self-hating spiel. "Yeah, yeah whatever," he muttered to the pain creeping in his palms.

It was a good thing he was on mute, he thought. It wasn't right blaming the team. Sure, it wasn't him who started the fight with Keith, but Lance should understand by now that their relationship would be this and just this. It doesn't matter if he likes the boy more than he's meant to: Keith's made it pretty clear where the two of them stand.

Even a steady friendship between the two of them is Lance pushing his luck.

Lance ignored the pain in his palms, speeding his pace as he stalked the corridors. It was hard to accept the fact he has to sacrifice his own emotions for the sake of the mission, for the sake of keeping the team together. But it's not just that. Lance can't even be himself without pissing everyone off, without getting the rolled eyes, the dead-pan looks that make the boy want to shrink in on himself and not leave his bedroom.

Everyone else gets it, so why can't he?

Shiro is a born and bred solider. He has got every excuse of bowing out, after a year of torture, but he doesn't, he is their leader. Keith plays the good soldier, works hard, and gets good results. Pidge and Hunk follow orders, offer their smarts and don't let the heaviness of everything get them down. Coran and Allura, despite losing their fucking planet, remain as Voltron's main support in and out of battle.

Lance is just seen as the shallow smart-mouth whose only addition to the team is his number and sub-par capability of piloting Blue.

Blue mewled at the self-deprecating thoughts, Lance quick to calm her. He couldn't burden anyone with his problems, not even Blue, not whilst they were in the middle of a rescue operation. Not that he planned to burden them with his feelings at all.

Nope.

Lance's problems were Lance's. He had dealt with them forever. Nothing would change if he said it out loud, so why even bring that upon himself?

Keith would probably just tell him to shut up and stop grabbing for attention, if he even bothered to listen in the first place. Shiro would question Lance's role as the Blue Paladin and his efficiency as her pilot. Pidge would tell him he was over thinking things. They, on the other hand, had every right to fret and worry and be distracted with their missing brother and father.

Hunk didn't need to hear Lance's problems. The big lump would listen, of course he would, he's just that kind of guy, but then he'd worry and fret, and Lance would just end up dragging him down to his depression as well.

So Lance's problems would stay Lance's problems.

And not just the ones that remain in his head.

Lance looked about, up and down the identical corridors as he stood in the cross section of several. He hadn't been paying attention, not paying attention of the direction he's come from, nor the way he was going.

Ah shit, he's lost.

Lance twists to the corridor behind him, staring down the dark expanse, broken by intervals of red flashing lights and his own white searchlight, but none tell him which way to go.

Quiznak. So now he was lost, and with his Comms still on mute – he checked just in case – he was out of contact with the team. C'mon Lancey boy. I thought you were the Blue Paladin. This should be nothing to you. Lance ignored the voice, suspiciously like Keith's and took the corridor ahead of him. It led to a large cargo hold. That's fine: he'd turn around and try again. The next room held nothing helpful. Nor the second, the third, fifth, seventeenth of twenty third. Fucking Quiznak.

But no, no this was fine. He would just have to check every room until he found an elevator shaft or a stair well that would give him access to the top floor.

Speeding himself up, Lance used his thrusters, venting his irritation on kicking the debris out of the way. They tumbled into the encroaching darkness and Lance has to force his mind away from the lingering fear that bubbled with it.

Dark wasn't Lance's biggest fear, but anyone, lost and alone could feel the pressure of it on their conscious. He pushed it to the back of his mind; not quite gone, but out of the way enough for him to cover the corridor until he found an elevator, letting out a shrill whoop of excitement. He had to prise the doors open; his gun blast just rebounding off of the tampered metal when he called upon his Bayard to help him.

"Come on work with me," he growled, kicking at the doors. But it was like kicking something underwater with the lack of gravity in the damn spaceship. With barely enough pressure behind his blows, the door just creaked at him.

Debris would have to be his synch then, grabbing a warped line of pipe. It did the trick, acting like a crowbar, opening the doors just barely enough for him to get through. His armour got stuck, his helmet just as useless, but with enough squirming, he was in.

There were no emergency lights inside the elevator shaft. Why would there need to be?

His searchlight was enough to scan the dark vertical tunnel, following it as far as the tunnel would go, the voice once more taking centre stage as his mind lapsed back towards irritation. Why do we have to do this? I'm sure Hunk and the damn fluffy monkey could've fixed this problem while we played Pirate hunters and stopped any other Aliens suffering the same fate.

Lance remained quiet.

The angry voice continued. It's not like taking the pirate ships out had been all that difficult. If Keith hadn't stopped us, I'm sure we could've taken out at least one of the ships in two more shots. But no.

We had to play it Keith's way. He's not even the leader. That is meant to be Shiro's job.

Lance had to agree with that. He didn't mind taking orders from Shiro. Heck, he didn't mind taking orders from anyone, including Keith as long as they were sound. As long as they made sense.

He didn't have time to confer with the voices however, as the end of the elevator shaft came into sight.

This time, the doors were wedged open, and he only had the task of shimming through the broken doors, not giving a thought to why, considering the rest of the ship was untouched. Perhaps Wilt and Elmore had been trapped up here during the Pirate attack.

The Blue Paladin found himself in a hallway he found himself on was brighter than the rest. With large windows lining both sides, he was able to see the expanse of the galaxy. Stars glittering in the endless black, the spherical orbs of different plants hung like a child's nursery mobile.

Brittle silence hung in the dark, a gentle sereneness filling Lance as he looked out, pressing against the glass to admire the vastness. Loneliness lays gossamer beside the beauty, and thoughts are sent to Lance's family, a million light years away, too far.

In the dark of space, Lance could see Red floating at the bow of the ship, the castle some hundreds of miles behind, though still glistening her perfect shade of Altean White. They're inactivity told him there was no immediate danger, alongside Pidge's refusal to accept him back on the public chat. Not that it bothered him—

What was that?

Lance turned to the far end of the corridor, where the clinking of something attracted his attention, vastly different to the expected silence of the abandoned spaceship.

"Hello?" he called out, wondering if he had found more stranded crew. "I'm a paladin of Voltron. I'm here to help."

Lance clicked his heels for the sake of turning back on the grav-function of his boots, enabling him to control his approach towards the far end of the corridor. He drew his Bayard just in case; it remaining in its casual appearance of inactivity. But with a shiver of doubt, it changed into its gun function.

He prowled the corridor, raising the gun to his sights, yet kept his finger from the trigger, in case it was the crew, just scared and hiding.

The room was empty inside but, bingo, there was the core generator, just what Lance had been looking for. Although, things were not going to be as simple as the team planned for.

The Bismuthorium fuel for the power source, were several glass chambers, taller and wider than the customary Cryo-pods these things resembled, although cruder in design compared to the sleek, smooth design of the Altean Castle.

This ship's chambers however, perhaps due to the Pirates plundering or their attack on the ship, had cracked the glass walls, several of them spilling out the luminescent fuel into the dead-space, free to float about the room in pockets of glowing blue, escaping from the splintered fissure in the vitrified quartz.

.

It was the broken glass colliding in the dead-space that had caught Lance's attention. Asides from the clinking glass of floating burnt out energy cells, there was nothing to make the noise.

Still, Lance didn't stow his weapon. He may not have solely relied on his instincts like Keith, but that didn't mean he didn't have any of his own.

He stole further into the room, knowing he'd lost the element of surprise, if he still needed it, from when he called out. But a quick scan of the entire room showed Lance was its sole occupant.

Lance watched the Bismuthorium fuel pulsate blue, their hues mixing in a tumble of dances. The beads of iridescent light ebbed and flowed in intensity, entrancing him, a hand moving up to swish through the luminescent liquid. It was graceful in the way it floated in the air, Lance's hand splitting the floating orbs of liquid into smaller pulsating shapes that morphed and moved.

They were a thousand fireflies, humming gently in the light of themselves…

Wait. Humming?

Lance noticed too late, turning too late to react as brain recognised the barrel of the blaster that was aimed straight for his face. He didn't even have time to duck, dodge or even flinch as the concentrated laser beam hit his helmet with a fully charged force.

The searchlight flickered to off, leaving only the Bismuthorium to light the room. Lance shook his head, ignored the ringing in only one ear, turning to search for his opponent.

"G-guys, there's still…. St-still someone on board," Lance choked, catching glimpse of his attacker near the biggest amorphous orb of floating fuel. Using the time Lance remained impaired, he drew the iridescent Bismuthorium into what looked like a vial barely inches bigger than his hand. The entire chamber in there?

At least now they knew what the Pirates had come for. Or Lance at least; who raised his Bayard, feeling it shift back into the blaster configuration that called for two hands to wield it.

He hadn't even realised it had become inept after becoming entranced by the firefly light.

"Halt!" the boy yelled, brain rapidly searching for a plan. Is it a simple matter of immobilising the threat, or is he about to start a fire-fight with all the remaining pirates on board? Stand-off?

The pirate is in Lance's sights, all he had to do was take the shot.

The Pirate stopped. But not from the Blue Paladin's warning, but in ode to the fact he had finished his task of collecting how much Bismuthorium he could fit into his vile: the fuel source glowing brightly from inside the containment tube. Now strapped to his thigh like a glowing popsicle stick, the Alien had lit up a perfect laser mark for Lance to aim at. He lifted his gun ready to fire—

But a shot came out of nowhere, piercing his leg.

Lance couldn't stifle the cry, hunching over, tumbling to the floor. He lost the grip on his Bayard that returned to its original form, clattering to the floor before rebounding and floating away from him. He reached out, his fingertips making it spin, but the thing didn't return.

Another shot hit him in the back, again, again, again and again.

Lance screamed louder, feeling the last laser not only hit him, but the high concentrated power of whatever weapon tear through his armour and the under layer of his Paladin space-suit. The burning sensation crept under his skin; poison in his veins that blurred his vision and threatened unconsciousness. No, no! That can't happen, not here!

Lance was able to fight the pain, pushing past agony in favour of adrenaline, ignoring the coldness of the dead-space that served to cauterise the wound, but painfully so.

The burn throbbed deep into his gut; it was deep and warm, but not in a nice way. It felt like someone had their hand in there, like a three year old squeezing his organs like play dough.

The pain wasn't constant though. It wanes with stillness and grew with every deep breath Lance pulled into his burning lungs. He fears they're hurt too, but that's not the case. If the laser had pierced his back, right into his pulmonary respiratory sacks, he'd be inside out, painting space with his guts; his own blood taking the place of the Bismuthorium fuel core.

With lip-biting misery, Lance forces himself to a somewhat upright position. He's thankful for the lack of gravity, knowing he wouldn't be able to stand for a good minute if it was solely up to his body to keep himself upright.

He'd do so now of course, for the sake of retrieving the Bismuthorium, or protecting his team and the Trigamon from the uncontained Pirates that remained as a threat to them.

The indescribable pain makes him want to curl up and wait for someone to come and rescue him. But he was a Paladin of Voltron, and he was here to rescue the Trigamon.

There wasn't anything else he would've allowed himself to do, but grab his bayard and follow the Pirates from the Main Power Core. The thrusters threw heat onto the freezing of his exposed skin, and Lance feared the lack of immediate sensation. Maybe the injury was worse than he thought. But there's no time to think about himself.

Lance has caught the threat back in the large corridor, not fifty paces from the main generator core. Two pirates looked back to him, saluting the Paladin in true Lance-fashion.

They're two-legged, taller than him by far, their tails used to keep them upright in the dead-space.

"Pahgeh Shehnen" one laughed, the vocal pattern high and trill. Wearing a jumpsuit of dusty red, she had a netted bag on her back, holding refined Bismuth; most likely the base component of the ship's fuel system before it was melted down and forged into Bismuthorium. In her hands, console memory cores, complete with frayed wires where she had ripped them from the ship's electronic system unit with bare hands.

The other, taller, flicked the lid on his luminous popsicle and allowed a drop of the iridescent liquid to bubble out. He smeared it on the window, withdrew, and aimed his blaster.

"No, WAIT!" But Lance had no chance of stopping them. The Alien opened fire, the fuel alight, and the window sent glittering into outer space. Along with the pirates.

And Lance.

"NO!" Lance screamed in the darkness, dizzy, turning this way and that as his body travelled faster than it ever should. He caught a glimpse of Red, but Keith and Pidge were too busy waiting for the bay doors to notice Lance hurtling into the endless expanse. Had they even seen the explosion on the bridge?

"Keith, Pidge, help me!" he screamed, panic threatening to choke his air supply. The Comms crackled back with dark malice and ice stole whatever air remained in Lance's lungs, mouth wide as he gasped and gasped, but found no air. Was it his suit? Was the damage so bad that he was choking on the dead-space?

Was he… going to die?

With his remaining air, Lance screamed one name he wished would never abandon him. "BLUE!"

[PALADIN!]

Lance heard the motherly voice call out to his mind, the sobbing of panic flooded with relief and worry his Lioness felt from hearing his wailing panic. [I'm coming my Cub, hold tight.]

He felt her presence in his mind, looking through his memory to show her the direction he had been sent. He held his breath, savouring the precious remains of oxygen as he felt her draw near, see the bright hue of her blue metal meet him before he could tumble into the darkness, never to be heard from again.

[I have you.] She took him in her maw, matching the speed of his trajectory so that he didn't slam into her a thousand miles an hour and shatter every bone in his body. Maw shut, oxygen filling the room Lance yanked off his helmet to inhale the precious life source, choking on his own lungs, body burning from the sheer exhaustion.

Adrenaline numbed the pain of his back, his legs, his head enabling him to reach the pilot chair with little trouble, ignoring the feeling of smooth leather press at the frostbitten burn on his back. His armour was destroyed, he could tell, but the cold of space and adrenaline had numbed the wound enough he could manage without a Cryo-pod for the time being. He didn't have time to spare for one anyway.

"The breach, we have to seal it," Lance panted, sagging in the chair, desperate to keep his conscious from slipping too.

[Sleep My Cub; I will carry you home,] Blue said, flooding his mind with comforting thoughts. Lance fought her. "No Blue, I can't. The plan has changed now we can't manually open the doors from the outside." Lance reached for Blue's controls, hissing as the pain flashed in his gut. "The team need me awake; you can't let me fall asleep."

[Yes, My Cub.]

Lance shared control with Blue, instructing her through their link rather than using her controls, returning her to the cargo ship's bridge and the gaping hole of vitrified glass. A hiss of air escaped clenched teeth when Blue stopped sharply, his body following trajectory and jolting forward. Blue apologised, but Lance just focused on channelling his power of Blue's ice blast to seal the breach.

A light flashed on Blue's control panel.

Lance looked to it, a numbness claiming his mind as the thing pulsated like the Bismuthorium fuel he failed to obtain. In favour of ignoring the light, Lance reached up to the compartment above his pilot chair, reaching for the vial of Eyre - refined glucose supplied for emergency that would act as an energy boost and numbing agent all at once. One vile was injected straight into Lance's bloodstream through his wrist, another snapped and smeared into the still-bleeding wound that devastated his back, his cries stemmed as he bit into the glove he removed, choking on the pain all over again.

[My Cub,] Blue wailed pitifully, unable to do anything to help her Paladin that was barely able to fight the pain. Yet the Eyre's effects were practically instantaneous and understanding returned to the boy's mind. The light flickered in his peripheral, Lance able to understand it was the Comms channel hailing him.

His anger spiked. So now they want to talk to me.

Lance barely had his finger off the button before Blue's cockpit filled with various voices, all talking at once. Slowly, they thinned out, until the Blue Paladin could discern one voice from the other.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Shiro sounded worried, voice tight as it took precedence over the others. Before Lance could answer, another voice spoke.

Rattled, scratchy, Hunk breathed out a steady sigh of relief. "I'm good. Just bumped a little. Elmore is unconscious though. He hit his head when we got thrown back, although I can't say why. Was it pirates?"

Lance felt his chest go tight, wincing at the understanding that his failure had almost caused Hunk injury.

"Hunk, you alright buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Just got taken by surprise," he says, forcing out a smile Lance can practically feel through the Comms system. "That's good, that's good. Where you are now, are you—"

"In Yellow, yeah. I think that's what saved me cause Blue just— Lance, is she with you? She just freaked out and broke out her ice wall."

But before Lance can confirm that Blue came to save him, he can hear the Princess and the Black Paladin talking, their voices taking centre stage. "But you're okay," Allura was asking, relief when Shiro confirmed that he and Wilt were okay. "Just knocked back. We're heading to the trapped crew know, are they—"

"They're still trapped. Lance is trying to kill them."

"What? No I'm not!"

Lance can see Red now, the damn Lioness still by the ship's hangar doors, yet now she was staring in Blue's direction. Keith's voice continues in his ear and he'd be able to focus properly, but the numbing of the Eyre isn't as effective as he hoped because he is pretty sure he can feel his bones melting inside his own body.

"—Then what the hell was that explosion? It took out half the bloody bridge and almost the entire ship and the same time!"

"That wasn't my fault, that was the Pirates that were still onboard—" Lance hissed, shifting in his seat, feeling his skin tear away from the leather. Oh great. His skin was melding into the pilot chair.

"—And if someone hadn't muted me, I would've been able to tell you that. And maybe I could've also told you that they were—"

"Pidge shut you up, not me."

"Don't you dare drag me into this," the Gremlin mumbled, adding their own input, Keith quick to divert his attention away from Lance.

But Lance had had enough of being ignored.

"ARE YOU GOING TO LISTEN TO ME?" He roared; the pain in his body growing with the shifting of his body, even just the thought of moving his limbs sending a burning ache into his gut. He was surprised he hadn't thrown up yet.

The Blue Paladin's outburst forced everyone into silence, but Lance wasn't about to regret showing his true thoughts, too caught up in emotion and pain.

"Pirates were on board and attacked me. Could I warn you guys? Could I ask for help? No, because someone muted me.

Pirates stole the generator core's fuel supply. Pirates stole the ship's log data. Pirates blew up the bridge to escape, but could I warn anyone? Could I ask for help when I was shot out to space?

NO. Because you guys cut off my Comms and left me to deal with this shit by myself."

No one said anything, the silence just as it had been while Lance wandered the halls of the ship. He glanced back to his display module, double checking that he was online and they hadn't muted him again, but his radio wave lengths were spiking right alongside his heartbeat.

"I was up here on my own, without any way of contacting you guys. I'm lucky I have a mental connection with Blue because she just saved my life. So before you have a go at me for saving my own neck, think whether or not this whole business was my fault or not."

Then, because Lance was feeling particularly petty, he flicked the Comms back off, muting the voices and muting himself.

The cockpit fell into beautiful silence.

Blue, curled around him inside his mind, knew not to reprimand him for his un-thoughtful outburst. He felt her emotions though, heard her thoughts of wondering how to comfort him, fear to the pain that was stealing more and more of her Paladin's concentration. "Don't worry Blue. This will have all blown over by dinner."