His comm buzzed with activity; communications between Lotor and the newly come Galran invasion force, mostly. In less than twenty minutes, Hunk heard at least fifty threats of ghastly dismemberment, a dozen contradictory orders, and Lotor's smarmy, self-serving version of the battle as told to his father, Zarkon. Worse yet was a constantly replayed execution notice. It seemed that Pidge, Keith, and Lance were going to face a firing squad in less than twenty-four hours, unless Hunk found a way to throw a wrench in the works. Shutting off the receiver, LaChance made a silent promise to free his friends and send Lotor yelping home to daddy. First things first, though.

Setting the Blue Lion down on the floor of his cavernous den, LaChance backed Gold up a bit and took rapid stock of the situation. Blue's side gaped like a slit catfish, revealing wires, conduits, and banks of sluggishly healing bio-mechanisms. As he watched, the lion raised its head a bit, uttered a weak shadow of its usual roar, and then went totally dark.

Well.., no help there, it seemed. Hunk knew from experience that the lion's condition mirrored that of its pilot. Sven was in no shape to rescue anyone, most likely. Now what?

His best chance was to sneak back into the palace from the control room, Hunk decided. And then..?

Gazing imploringly up at the roof of his cockpit, the big man said, "I'm takin' things as they come, Lord. You want ta send any help my way, you're more 'n welcome."

That said, he unbuckled his seat restraints, gave the instrument panel a friendly pat, and climbed out. Craning his neck to look Gold in the eyes, he added,

"Hold the fort, Bubba. I'll be back in two shakes, with the team."

The lion rumbled in response, settling onto its haunches like a giant house cat. Hunk was halfway to the den's transport disk when a sudden, unexpected sound made him pause, and turn around. Blue's chest hatch had creaked open.

"What in Sam Hill…?"

Slowly, weak as a child, Sven was pulling himself out of his lion. Hunk at once raced back the way he'd come, reaching Blue just in time to steady Erickson's shaky descent.

"What d'you think you're doing?!" He demanded, lowering the other pilot to the floor. The briefest glance showed him that Sven was gashed, bleeding, and concussed.

"Coming… with you," Ericksen mumbled brokenly, sounding decidedly drunk. Haggar's confusion spell hadn't worn off yet, it appeared.

"No sir, you ain't!" Hunk responded, deeply outraged. "Your butt goes back in your lion, PRONTO! I ain't fixing ta have you collapse on me in the middle of Operation Hefty, 'n ruin all my careful planning. So get your battered…" And then he stopped, unable to say another word, or twitch a muscle; almost unable to breathe. There wasn't a thing wrong with Ericksen's psionic talents.

"LaChance…" Sven began, listing painfully to one side. "I'm seeing double… but I've got two pistols…one for both of you. Not the only way to fight, either. Now… don't making me argue… Not having the energy anymore. Understood?"

Once Sven released his grip, Hunk nodded. Ericksen might have the morals of a tomcat, but you couldn't fault his courage.

"Alright, on two conditions; you let me patch you up a little, and you stick ta the script! Don't be runnin' off on y'r own tryin' ta stir up no extra trouble. Deal?"

Not in any condition to refuse assistance, Sven grunted something that sounded like, "Ja-ha." Then he slumped against Blue's lifeless paw and let Hunk get to work. Stimulant shots, painkillers and an entire can of Nu-Skin brought him back to his feet, if not quite to full health.

"Okay. All done. I STILL say you should be sleepin' it off with Blue Lion, but if y'r determined to come, follow me."

And with a last, disapproving frown, Hunk led the way to Gold's transport disk.

A little earlier, back in Castle Control:

Koran leaned over the monitor, dry-mouthed. Keith, Pidge and Lance had been captured. Sven and Hunk were in full retreat. Beside him, the princess clutched at his arm.

"Koran… is it over? Is there nothing we can do to help?" She pled softly, blue eyes filling with tears. The five outworlders who'd come to the aid of her people were very dear to heart, but one of them especially. Her chief advisor turned to look at her, his face lined and grim.

"Your Highness, perhaps you should take Nanny and board your escape ship. The resistance force on Pollux will give you shelter until… until we are able to drive Lotor's forces off of Arus."

Allura bit her lip, fighting the urge to scream. Mother, Father… and now her five defenders, as well? All lost? It was almost more than she could bear; indeed, would have been, had not her people needed her so. Straightening her slim shoulders, the Princess of Arus raised her chin and blinked back tears that she would not let fall.

"No, My Lord," she replied, her voice quiet, but strong. "I will remain here, with my people, and the spirits of those that came before. Never will I desert Arus, so long as life remains in my body."

Koran started to argue, then bowed his head in assent. After all, her royal father had said very much the same thing sixteen years before. Could his daughter do less?

"I understand, Your Highness. But at least take shelter in the catacombs beneath the palace. I will have as many of our folk evacuated there as possible, and it will cheer them greatly to see their princess safe and well."

That much, she could accede to. Allura nodded once, was on the point of leaving, when the monitor flickered, went dead briefly, and then returned to life. Filling the screen was the image of the Blue Lion.

"Princess, lower the shields!" Came a voice, very like Sven's. "We will stay with the castle, and guard it from Lotor's forces."

Deeply relieved, for with two of her friends back, victory seemed possible still, Allura cut off the shield generator with her own hands. The two lions, Gold and Blue, descended toward the castle. And then, like some horrible nightmare, Haggar's illusion melted away and the lions became all-terrain landing craft. The huge troop carriers thudded to the ground before the palace in a hurricane-like flurry of wind and flying debris. Their ramp doors clanged open an instant later. And then, as Koran screamed at the palace gunners to open fire, wave after wave of Galran shock troops poured from the cavernous landers, roaring for blood. Less than thirty minutes later, the Castle of Lions was in enemy hands.

Lotor received his field marshal's report in the ship's sumptuously appointed command office, burning with poorly concealed irritation.

"…Still a few pockets of resistance, Sire," the grey-skinned man was saying, bowing deeply every third word or so. "Dame Haggar's illusion convinced the Sk'roven guards to lower the main palace shield. The Castle of Lions is ours, as is the Princess of Arus. Most of the peasants have taken to the hills and catacombs, though, making final clean up somewhat difficult. Not," he added hurriedly, "that it cannot be done! Only that it may take a bit more time than indicated by my late predecessor's … er, final report."

The prince toyed with the hilt of his laser sword and wondered why his officers were all such toadying cowards. Not a true warrior in the bunch, he thought sourly.

"Unacceptable, Colonel!" Lotor snarled, "This planet will be subdued, and the missing lion pilots captured and executed, in time for my wedding and victory speech!" The fact that these events were scheduled for the very next morning troubled Lotor not at all. "Failure on your part will result in the Seven Deaths, for you and all of your men. Dismissed!"

Colonel Strogh backed out of the office, sweating profusely and cursing the officer who'd recommended him for promotion. How, the unfortunate man wondered desperately, was he to satisfy his prince and avoid execution?

Hunk materialized in the transport room, which hadn't fallen to the enemy, he was relieved to see. It would have been extremely awkward to transport in from the den and find himself facing Lotor.

"Might shoulda thought of that before," he muttered, stepping off the gold disk and turning to wait for Sven. "I'm still breathin' though, so I guess there's no harm done."

An instant later, Ericksen appeared, looking pale and unsteady. "Your teleport's longer than mine…" he observed blurrily, missing the first step and nearly crashing to the floor.

'Oh, yeah,' Hunk thought to himself, hauling Sven to his feet. 'HE'S gonna be loads of help!'

Aloud, he said, "Lieutenant Commander, can you tell if there's anyone scurryin' around down here that shouldn't be?"

Sven pulled away from his grasp, nodded once, and closed his eyes. This proved to be a serious mistake, for without visual clues to back up his patchy TK, he had a hard time telling up from down and nearly collapsed again. The injuries he could have tolerated without much fuss. After all, he'd been trained to take such poundings and come back for more. The confusion was another matter. Sven felt drunk. Not just lightly buzzed, either; falling down, can't see straight, sloppy, stupid drunk. And if he didn't clear his head soon, he was likely to ruin everything by walking into a wall or shooting the wrong person. The fact that LaChance was thinking pretty nearly the same thing didn't help his confidence any. Fortunately, there were a few things Ericksen could still manage fairly well, like brief scans. A few seconds' concentration produced the required results.

"The castle's full with Galrans." He announced, half sending, half-whispering. "Lower caverns, though…." A minute passed, while Sven laboriously righted a derailed train of thought. "Lower caverns still in possession of us. Us types."

"Right." Hunk patted Sven's shoulder by way of thanks. "That's all I needed ta know. Guess we'd better avoid the castle, then, and go straight for the catacombs. I got me a feelin' that we're gonna need a little help on this one. What d'you think?"

"I… Ja. Det 'r god. *" (* "That's good.")

So they by-passed the control room entirely, and slipped into the caverns by a side route, Hunk supporting Sven whenever the mech pilot tripped or forgot the way, which was often.

These were the same caves that Allura's folk had been hiding in when the Voltron Force first came to Arus. Precisely machined at first, the smooth, roomy tunnels soon gave way to more roughly hewn, cramped passages dripping with brackish moisture. Some of the caverns were natural, Hunk knew, but others had been tunneled out of the rock by a mysterious elder race called the "Ancients". Nor were the smooth tunnels their only handiwork. Hunk owed the mighty Gold Lion to the self-same long-vanished race. That there were more guardians and greater wonders deeper in the labyrinth was Pidge's firm belief. Hunk had other concerns.

There were supplies and weapons stockpiled somewhere in the human sections, he knew; enough to enable the resistance to survive for awhile in the face of Galran occupation. But if their princess were forced to wed Lotor, and most of the Lion pilots executed… Hunk doubted that the people of Arus could hold off their oppressors for more than a week. All the more reason to set things right. Somehow, he had to rescue his friends and get rid of the Galrans, and fast.

After what felt like hours of sneaking around, Hunk met a few scruffy kids who promised to take him to what remained of the palace guard. Handing them each a slightly melted candy bar, Hunk whispered, "Lead the way, kids!" And then followed them into the darkness.

Lotor strode down to the palace dungeon, meaning to have a closer look at his precious captives. The set was incomplete, as yet, but he was certain that Haggar's plan would soon deliver Ericksen and LaChance, eliminating the threat of Voltron forever. What little he knew about the two fugitives pointed to Ericksen as the leader. Lotor expected that the taller, more physically active psion would take charge of any rescue attempts, and that he would most likely try to infiltrate the palace and strike at the witch, or his own valuable royal personage. Still, forewarned was forearmed, and the prince felt himself smugly prepared for anything Ericksen might try.

Thus buoyed, he descended the shadow-draped, winding stair that led to the Castle of Lions' prison in search of amusement. The guards, already on alert, snapped to even harder when their prince appeared.

"Sire!"

He barely acknowledged his men's salutes, stalking on past with a frigid nod. A huge old wooden door opened into the dungeon, which consisted of a few force-shield augmented cells and some extremely rusty torture equipment. Lotor 'tsk-ed' to see the rack and thumb screws in such poor condition, then turned his attention to the three well-separated captives. Released from Haggar's confusion spell and healed by her dark arts, they were conscious now, and dangerous.

He had the impression that he'd interrupted an argument, for the air between them was charged with hot emotion. Then again, they could just have been glad to see him.

Lance spoke first. Standing in the middle of his cell with his hands in his pockets, the lieutenant said,

"Never could resist a good gloat, huh Lotey?"

Lotor smiled, refusing to be baited. "Actually, Lt. Calvin, I've come to convey my condolences. It must be terribly upsetting to be held in a cell, helpless prisoners, while your comrades are being hunted like wild animals, and your sweet princess is being prepared for my pleasure. How very sad."

"Bastard!" Keith snarled, hurling himself at the force screen. It smashed him back across the cell like a tennis ball, adding another bruise to an already impressive collection. "Where is she?! What have you done with her?! Answer me, damn it!" The commander demanded, scrambling to his feet. Fists balled up, chest heaving, he looked as though he would have liked to rip Lotor into tiny bloody chunks. The fact that he was powerless to do so added hugely to Lotor's amusement.

"Keith, I suggest you regain control of yourself," Pidge admonished quietly. "You're giving him exactly the show he wants. If you stop reacting, he'll go away. People of such bacterial intellect have very short attention spans, and are easily distracted."

It took Lotor a little longer to smile, that time. "You die first, midget," the prince said at last, caressing the leather-wrapped hilt of his laser sword. "We shall see how superior you feel without a head."

Pidge shrugged. "I suppose that's the only way your sort can win an argument."

"Ooooooh! Burn!" Lance mocked, grinning. Getting a lot less satisfaction than he had expected, Lotor turned on his heel and strode away.

"Laugh all you like!" He called over his shoulder, boiling with wrath. "Tomorrow at dawn I will wed your princess, and then you and your fugitive 'friends' will die like dogs at our feet!"

"Was it something I said?" Lance quipped, barely audible over the thunder of blood in Lotor's ears.

"Long death…!" The prince muttered, stomping past the guards and back up the stairs. "Very slow… very painful. Have Haggar bring them back to life and then skrodding kill… them… AGAIN!!!!"

Far from the captured palace, in one of the deepest, least accessible sections of tunnel, the Arussian loyalists had holed up. About seventy people were jammed into a cramped, sandy-floored chamber that Hunk and the others reached through a low side passage. Things were chaotic and uncertain there still, with no clear leadership established among the surviving castle folk. Garret, Koran's hotheaded son, had the biggest mouth, and so far, the biggest following. A few old soldiers who'd fought with Lord Koran and shared his cautious approach spoke against the young bloods. They were having difficulty making themselves heard, though.

When Hunk reached temporary headquarters, he paused at the threshold. Sven was dead on his feet, LaChance noticed, and badly in need of rest.

"Guess I c'n handle the jawin'," he mused aloud. Glancing down at the children, he added, "C'n you guys take the Lt. Commander somewheres he can lie down? He's lookin' pretty rough. Maybe some of y'all could stay with him, too, 'cause he ain't exactly holdin' it together too well, and I'd feel better if someone was watchin' him. There's ice cream in it for all of y'all, just as soon as we kick blue boy on back home. Deal?" (It was a measure of how far gone Sven was that he didn't protest the idea. For all Hunk knew, he mightn't even have heard it.)

The children nodded excitedly. There were seven of them, ranging in age from what looked like four to twelve or so. Five boys, two small girls.

"Yes, Tsuyoshi," they chimed. "We will watch him for you! I want vanilla!"

"And I want Strawberry!"

"Sherbik for me!" Piped up the littlest, a tiny girl.

"That's sher-BET, idiot!" One of her elders snapped back.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Hunk interceded, for the little one had clouded up and seemed about to cry. "There ain't no call to fight about ice cream, nor sherbik, neither. Right, Yasuko?" He winked at the little girl as he said this last, causing her to smile again.

Once he'd seen his teammate safely settled, Hunk went off to face the resistance leaders. The meeting didn't go well. It wasn't that the Arussian nobility argued with him; rather that they refused to take him seriously. Hunk tried several times to break up their fiery debate long enough to propose a plan, but nobody listened. Garret, on the one occasion that LaChance did snag his notice, simply jerked a thumb toward another passage, saying,

"The kitchens are being set up over there, Lord Tsuyoshi. I'm sure one of the cooks can find you a bit of something. Now, as I was saying, a direct assault from the caverns will…"

Hunk felt his blood pressure rising. Ordinarily, he was a cheerful, even-tempered sort, but being patted on the head and told to run along for a snack rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what to do about it besides throwing people around.

"Dang it," he thought to himself, "I just ain't no good at this! Keith only has ta start walkin' somewheres, and folks just naturally follow him. Lance 'ud do okay, cause he could sell sand to a diamond-back! Everyone knows Pidge's got it upstairs; if he says 'do it like this', nobody bats an eye. And Ericksen… well, he don't care whether anyone follows him or not, he just goes and does it his way, and gets in trouble for it afterward. Any o' them could handle this better! So why me?!? How in Heaven's name am I supposed ta get 'em ta listen?!?!"

Depressed, he headed back up the passage and found his way to the little alcove where the children were tending to Sven. They crowded round as soon as Hunk appeared, plucking at his uniform sleeves and hurling noisy questions.

"Did you talk to them Tsuyoshi? When will they kick away the butt of Lotor? We'll be home by tomorrow, won't we?" And then, as they saw the grim look on his face and realized that Hunk was having very little to say, "What is it, Tsuyoshi? What's wrong?"

He shrugged, settling onto the ground beside Ericksen's unconscious form.

"I dunno. They ain't listened long enough ta hear me out. Made me want ta chuck somebody across the room, but I dunno what good it woulda done. Maybe I'm just not impressive enough… Guess I'd better wait for the Lt. Commander here to wake up, 'n have HIM talk to 'em!"

The children glanced at one another, seeming to communicate by sideways looks and elbow jabs.

"You!"

"No, YOU!"

"You tell him!"

"Stop hitting me!"

A bit of jostling ensued, after which the eldest boy was pushed to the front of the pack. Smiling hopefully up at his large friend, the boy said,

"Tsuyoshi… Hunk, WE can help you. We know all over the palace, and some places even that the grown-ups have never learned. If you tell US your plan, we will listen." This assertion was followed by a half funny, half heart-tugging performance of gap toothed grins and crossed hearts.

"Well," Hunk answered slowly. "I tell you what, Hiro. Any o' you guys know a secret way into the dungeon? I got a plan, but we gotta wake my teammate up, and make our move before Garret leads his dumb-butt frontal assault. You do? Alright, we're in business! Now, listen up Y'all…"