Making a little clicking noise, she lured another of the white mice onto her lap, watching as the bright-eyed little thing grasped the biscuit crumb in its tiny pink paws.

She giggled, trying not to shake too violently. Sudden moves tended to send the dear beasties scurrying for cover. So did Nanny, for that matter. Then again, Nanny sent nearly everybody diving for shelter. Allura giggled again, recalling Lance's last encounter with the royal nursemaid. The five foreign pilots were one of the few bright spots in her life, and, together with the mice, made up her pitifully small group of friends.

"There you go!" The princess cooed, stroking velvety fur with a gentle fingertip. She'd have white hair all over her satin dress again, but no matter. Her friends were worth a bit of scolding. "There's supper! Would you like to change places with me, mouse? Just for a day? You could be princess of Arus, while I scurried about doing just as I pleased! What do you think? Is it a pact? Shall we summon the court enchanter?"

The mice finished up their crumbs, nosed about amid the pleats of her skirt for more. Then a tapestry rustled aside, revealing not Nanny, or Koran, but Sven. Allura leapt to her feet, shedding mice, hair and crumbs every which way.

"Aniki!" She cried, genuinely delighted. Moving very quickly despite the heavy skirts and cluttered surroundings, she raced to his side, tip-toed up and kissed his cheek. "Welcome!"

The handsome pilot smiled distractedly, mussed her hair with a roughly affectionate hand.

"Hejsan, lilla syster. How would you like to get free of the palace for a bit?"

The effect of his words was instantaneous. "Hai! Yes! Right away! Where are we going, Aniki? Is there trouble? Can I fly Blue? What shall I wear?"

"Wear?" Sven repeated, focusing on the last word in her clamoring torrent. "Wear something… i helvete! I don't know! Wear something for outside. Come though, we have to hurry."

So saying, Sven guided her back through the hidden door, filling her in as they went.

Hunk was fully equipped and waiting in the monitor room when Sven appeared with the two 'girlfriends'. The princess was one of them, lovely as ever in a divided riding skirt, loose grey blouse and tall boots. The other… Hunk felt himself blush, sudden and hot as a flash fire. The other girl was Rae, the candy-seller's daughter. She made a vivid contrast to the princess, standing there in rough peasant's garb, her long black hair done back in a single plait, her little hands red from scrubbing pots. Her lot in life might have been far lower than that of the princess, but in beauty, she was every bit Allura's equal. Maybe better, from Hunk's point of view.

The shop girl's face was a delicately boned oval, her dark eyes wide and slanted. Even without paint, her mouth blossomed a sweet, dusky pink… set in a rather grim line, just at the moment. She'd brought her rifle, LaChance noticed, the one that usually leaned in a corner of the little candy shop, loaded and ready.

"Uh..," he remarked, intelligently. Why, of all the women on Arus, had Ericksen chosen Rae?

'Because she can shoot,' the pilot sent at him, 'I've seen her take down a bat fighter, no easy thing with just a rifle.'

"Yeah, well… There's gotta be some homely women out there that knows which end of a gun ta point!"

Ericksen shrugged. "What can I say? I var in a hurry." Something about the glint in his dark eyes suggested there was a little more to it than that, though. Thinking that they were referring to her, Allura glided over and clasped the big man's hand. Giving it a brief squeeze, she said,

"It's alright, Hunk. I can take care of myself, really! The five of you have taught me all there is to know about fighting."

Rae said nothing at all, gazing at LaChance with what he fancied was a pitying look. In such exalted company, she preferred to keep her own counsel. Managing a nod, Hunk rumbled,

"I'm sure both of y'all 'll do real well, princess. Lotor ain't got a chance." Now it was Sven's turn to ask a question. Taking in Hunk's colorful hunting costume, he said,

"I thought we var trying for a surprise strike, LaChance. You couldn't sneak up on a cabbage wearing that."

Grateful for the change of topic, Hunk defended his amazing outfit. "It's traditional, Lieutenant Commander. You ain't allowed ta go huntin' without camouflage pants, a screamin' orange jacket, plaid shirt and…" he indicated the bright red, ear-flapped cap on his head, "a funny hat. We gotta look the part if we wanna lull them Galran boys' suspicions, right? I even got the clothin' replicators ta churn out another set, just f'r you."

Oh, joy. Folding his arms across his chest, Sven got the granddaddy of all stubborn looks on his face. It didn't help that the princess was inadequately stifling a giggle with both hands. At least Rae wasn't laughing.

"I'm willing to concede on the uniform," he growled. "But if I have to wear that stupid hat, Lance will be rescuing his own damn self."

"Well, we ain't got loads a' time ta debate the issue," Hunk replied, thrusting a pile of folded hunting clothes at Sven. "So I guess I can let you slide on the hat, just this once."

"This once?" Ericksen repeated incredulously, accepting the bundle. "LaChance, there will not be a second time, I promise you."

"Ohhh, you say that now, but just wait 'til you experience the joys of roughing it. You'll be a changed man 'fore you know it."

As he stepped into another room to change, Sven shot back,

"Roughing it ar what you do when your fighter goes down, NOT a form of recreation."

Speaking for the first time, Rae said to Hunk, "Takashi does not seem to share your love for the wild places, Tsuyoshi."

"Eh. He just needs ta pee outdoors, get a plate of pork n' beans in him, and… and…" It was about then that LaChance realized he was actually speaking to the girl of his dreams. "…uh…I… I gotta go buzz Pidge. 'Scuse me, Miss!"

The young genius had arrived by the time Sven stalked back into the monitor room. Flashing his sullen teammate a quick grin, Pidge said,

"Sven! You look…colorful!"

Ericksen bit back a richly profane response, muttering, "Let's go before I change my mind. Pojke, you handle things from here."

Pidge gave him a cheerful salute. "Will do, Sven. I've worked up an excruciatingly detailed virtual image of all of you, so that if Keith checks in over the comm, he'll get the appropriate personnel. If he comes down here in person, though, we're S.O.L. Oh, well. Just make it fast, and take care. I'll monitor your progress from the castle as long as I'm able, guys. There seems to be some sort of scanner interference over there, so I'll give you two hours to get Lance, get clear, and call me. If you don't, I'll summon Keith and come to the rescue, okay? I won't tell him what's going on, though."

"Jaha. Sounds good."

"Works f'r me, too, Squirt."

LaChance knuckled the top of Pidge's curly head for luck, promising to be back in two shakes. Then the rescue team was away, slipping out a narrow side passage to Hunk's waiting flitter.

Colonel Kirano wasn't happy. This senseless baiting of the lion force made him deeply uncomfortable. Being a recent graduate of the Galran Officer's Academy, he was far too well trained to express his feelings aloud, especially given Prince Lotor's notoriously violent temper, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to do something about the situation…quietly.

He was retying the female's already tight bonds when a small group of soldiers approached him, shuffling their feet through the leaf litter and looking decidedly uncomfortable. Kirano knew a coming storm when he saw one. Expecting the worst, he stepped away from the struggling hostage.

"What is the meaning of this assembly, soldiers?" he demanded, striving to sound stern, but fair. The men hemmed and hawed a bit, refusing to meet Kirano's gaze. Finally, one of them stood forth; a leathery, flat-faced old sergeant.

"Sir… what we're wanting to know is… I mean… What are the Prince's plans, when the Lions show up? Shouldn't he be summoning back up? The witch, maybe? Not that we question his wisdom!" The sergeant added hurriedly, "Or yours, Sir! Just that, well… maybe we should be doing something more to get ready?"

Kirano started to bark them into submission, then sighed agreement, instead.

"His Royal Highness is above such common things as strategy and preparation," he replied. "We, however, are not. Say nothing to the Prince, but have all bat fighters fueled up and brought to their launch pads, and issue assault weapons to your men. If all goes well, and the Prince's plan delivers two more Voltron Force hostages, nothing more need be said. If the Lions arrive, we will blast them out of the sky, and then make for Galra with Prince Lotor, and the one Voltron pilot we do have. Understood?"

The sergeant saluted, evidently reassured. "Sir, yes SIR!"

Kirano congratulated himself as the soldiers strode off. His very first command crisis had been met, and dealt with. Not bad at all, for a boy from the sewer shacks. And there would be more and better, soon, he promised the universe.

About twenty yards away, Lance knelt on the forest floor and scraped at his bonds, ignoring the chorus of shooting pains from his cramped and bloodless hands. He was making progress… a little. The cords were looser than they had been, but not by enough to scrape a hand through. Yet. He couldn't hurry matters, though; not without alerting his guards. As he twisted his swollen wrists around, acquiring another rope burn and a further millimeter of slack, the lieutenant couldn't help thinking,

'Sven, Hunk, anytime you fellas want to crash this party, I'll be more than happy to introduce you to the host! For real!'

He couldn't recall being in a tighter fix since reaching Arus, and wasn't at all sure that luck and St. Joan would see him through, this time. Uttering another quiet 'Our Father', Lance redoubled his effort on the bonds. He had more than just himself to think about, after all; Alita was in trouble, too. He'd gotten her into this mess, and by God, he intended to get her out.

Then Lotor strode up, a chilly smile on his face. Halting before Lance, he signaled forward the guards, saying,

"Perimeter sensors have detected the approach of a single air car, bearing four Sk'roven passengers. It seems your friends have taken the bait like the dim-witted animals they are. On your feet, Lieutenant. You've one more little act to perform before my triumph is complete."

At Lotor's snarled command, one of the guards hauled Lance upright. The others kept their weapons trained on his tousled head, their expressions tense and focused. Not that they had much to worry about, really. Stiff from over an hour of kneeling on the cold, stony ground, Lance had trouble straightening his cramped legs, and couldn't have moved quickly enough for a really fast crawl, much less an attack. Still, it was nice to know that the Galrans held him in such awe. Now if only he could find a way to deepen that respect.