Chapter Text
The Yellow lion jolted forward too fast for Yellow’s heavier frame and ended up clipping the hangar wall with a loud metallic scrape.
“Son of a—! Sorry!” Keith grunted, wrestling the controls. Yellow groaned in protest, stabilizing with a heavy lurch.
“You okay?” Lance asked, the concern undercut by a snort of laughter.
“She’s fine. Pride’s dented. Mine, mostly.” Keith muttered.
Green hovered out more gracefully behind him, though her flight path wobbled just slightly. “Okay,” Lance breathed. “No bumps. That’s a win.”
“Give it a minute,” Pidge muttered. Red’s jaw opened slower than usual as she eased out. The slightest shift in weight made the controls bristle.
Blue and Black followed, more coordinated but noticeably restrained. The formation was uneven, each lion drifting slightly apart as if unsure how close they should fly.
From the castle, Allura’s voice crackled back onto their comms. “Coordinates received. I’m marking the safest jump point just outside the planet’s orbit. Get there as quickly as you can. Galra forces are already en route.”
“Copy that,” Shiro said automatically. The response felt hollow.
Lance stared through the HUD at the stars. “Anyone else feel like we’re about to eat it hard?”
“Lance,” Shiro warned, though the edge in his voice was more habit than heat.
“I’m just saying, we’re a glorified disaster waiting to happen right now.”
“We’ve been worse,” Hunk said—then immediately corrected himself. “Okay no, that’s a lie. This might be the worst.”
“You’re really not helping,” Keith muttered.
The planet came into view—small, lush, visibly scorched in patches. Smoke curled from outer settlements.
“Scans show we’ve got maybe fifteen minutes until their fleet enters atmosphere,” Allura said through the comms, her tone clipped and urgent. “Get down there. Establish a perimeter. Coordinate with the locals.”
The lions descended fast and uneven.
Once they landed in a wide open field just beyond the nearest city’s outer wall, one by one the cockpits hissed open. They all hesitated briefly before stepping out.
And then—eyes turned to Hunk.
He blinked, mid-step off Black’s paw, suddenly all too aware of the others staring at him.
Lance tilted his head, pointing. “Okay, that’s still weird. Hunk coming out of Black. Like watching your cat bark.”
“Thanks?” Hunk winced, rubbing the back of his neck.
Pidge stepped down from Red, dusting off her knees. “It’s not like we’re any less bizarre. You should’ve seen Red the whole descent. It was like piloting a tank with emotions.”
Shiro finally landed, Blue curling down beside the others. He took a second before speaking—looking around, taking stock, like the words were forming slower than usual.
Shiro took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, stepping away from Blue. “The settlement isn’t far. Quarter mile tops. Let’s head in, see who’s in charge, and figure out where they need us most.”
The others nodded, falling in around him. None of them said it aloud, but the tension hung thick between them—each step echoing with the unspoken question: What are we even doing here like this?
The trek to the settlement was short but quiet. Fields stretched out in staggered plots of overgrown crops, interrupted by scorch marks and collapsed irrigation lines. Smoke still clung low to the ground. As they approached the wall—really more a hastily reinforced perimeter of broken stone and metal panels—they could hear the low thrum of activity on the other side: hurried footsteps, orders being barked, the faint whine of welding tools.
A guard spotted them first. His weapon was raised instinctively, then lowered just as fast when he saw the symbols on their armor. He tapped a communicator on his wrist and waved them through.
The inside of the settlement was a patchwork of struggle. Families huddled in corners beneath tarps. Medical stations overflowed. Supplies were sparse, spread too thin over too many. People stared as the Paladins passed—not with excitement or relief, but something more complicated. Hesitation. Mistrust. Hope, maybe, but dimmed by exhaustion.
A woman approached them near the center square. She was older—mid-fifties, maybe—with greying hair tied back and a long coat covered in dust and burn marks. Her posture was upright, authoritative, despite the bags under her eyes.
“You are Voltron, yes?” she asked, glancing between them with careful skepticism.
Shiro stepped forward and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We came as soon as we got your signal. What’s your situation?”
“Dire,” she said plainly. “We’ve got three major residential clusters on this side of the canyon and a few storage bunkers to the west. Most of our defense drones were scrapped in the last wave. There’s one functioning turret battery on the ridge. It won’t hold.”
“How do you expect them to come in?” Pidge asked, already pulling out her scanner.
The woman gestured toward a rusted map display at the center of the square. “There’s only two ground routes they can take—the northeast canyon path and the south ridge line. But, they’re smart, they’ll send air units first to pin us down, then push ground support from both sides.”
Keith leaned in, eyes scanning the rough outline of the city. “We’re going to be outnumbered.”
“We always are,” Lance muttered.
“There’s a maintenance tunnel here,” the woman added, tapping one section of the map. “If they discover it, that’s a straight shot to our medical outpost. We’ve got dozens of wounded in there.”
Shiro nodded slowly, absorbing everything. “We’ll cover as many zones as we can.”
The woman gave him a dry look. “You are positive you all can handle this?”
Shiro didn’t flinch, though his jaw tightened. “We’ll make it work.”
With that, she turned back toward the square, barking a few orders to passing civilians. The Paladins stood in silence for a few seconds, watching the organized chaos of people preparing for war with whatever scraps they had.
Finally, Shiro spoke. He sounded like he was giving himself a pep talk more than anyone else.
“Okay. We need a plan. Uh—right,” he started. “We’ll split into zones. Hunk, you’ve got the heaviest firepower in Black now, so… frontline.”
“Wait, I do?” Hunk asked, halfway to protesting.
Shiro faltered for a second. “Yes. I think. Black’s shielding is strong and you’ve got the cannon systems.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll… frontline.” Hunk said slowly, like the words weren’t real yet.
Shiro turned to Keith next. “You’re in Yellow. She’s solid on defense. I want you posted near the refugee camp perimeter. Help reinforce barricades.”
Keith blinked. “Right. Defensive. I can do that.” A pause. “Probably.”
“Lance, Green’s fast. I need you to scout the surrounding area for entry points and Galra dropships. Quick sweeps.”
“Got it,” Lance said, saluting. “Scouty and stealthy. Very ninja. Very green.”
“Pidge,” Shiro looked her way last, hesitating. “Red’s aggressive. Intercept squad. If anything slips through, you’re backup.”
Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Intercept with the lion that growls every time I touch a button. Perfect.”
“I’ll handle aerial comms and cover with Blue,” Shiro finished, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We’ll adjust as we go.”
There was a beat of silence. No one moved.
Then Keith muttered, “This is the part where we pretend that sounded like a real plan, right?”
Pidge held up a finger. “Pretend convincingly.”
“I don’t know,” Lance added, shrugging. “Shiro’s not in the big lion anymore. Maybe the universe is finally letting him be confused like the rest of us.”
Shiro cracked a small, tired smile. “Trust me, I’ve always been confused. I just had a better seat.”
The moment broke with a distant rumble. Not thunder—too mechanical. Too timed. A low, echoing pulse from the clouds above.
“They’re close,” Pidge said, glancing down at her scanner. “Looks like three drop ships already broke orbit. We’ve got maybe seven minutes.”
That sobered everyone.
Shiro squared his shoulders. “Get to your lions. Go now.”
They moved without needing to be told twice.
The walk back to the field was faster this time, full of tight silence and flickers of adrenaline. Civilians moved aside for them, heads turning to follow the Paladins as they ran toward machines that still didn’t feel like theirs.
The lions powered up with staggered growls, responding to the wrong pilots with dutiful resistance. Yellow’s jaw jerked shut the moment Keith climbed in. Green gave a half-hearted tail flick as Lance dropped into the seat. Red blinked her lights at Pidge—grudgingly—but allowed the start-up sequence. Black crouched lower than usual as if adjusting to Hunk’s weight. Only Blue remained neutral, systems already syncing as Shiro slid into the cockpit.
“Systems coming online,” Hunk muttered into the comms. “Slowly. I think Black’s still deciding whether she trusts me.”
“Same,” said Keith, tapping the side panel as Yellow’s console flickered twice before stabilizing.
“All right,” Shiro’s voice came through, calm but tight. “Positions. Now.”
They broke off into their zones—except no one really moved in sync. Lance’s liftoff was too fast, arcing Green in a wide circle that forced Pidge to brake harder than she meant to in Red. Keith and Hunk tried to split in opposite directions but ended up drifting into the same airspace before correcting. It wasn’t chaotic, exactly… but it wasn’t Voltron.
“Try to keep formation tight until we hit your zones,” Shiro said, trying to guide them from Blue’s cockpit. “We’re not flying solo here.”
“Tell that to Red,” Pidge snapped. “She keeps pulling left every time I try to lock coordinates.”
“Green’s doing fine,” Lance reported. Then added, “I think. Might be sarcasm.”
Keith grunted. “Just stay focused.”
Their paths finally began to diverge, each lion moving toward its assigned sector of the city. From above, they could see more details now—scorched rooftops, families retreating into bunkers, flashes of movement near the canyon where the Galra would break through first.
Then the first shadow cut across the clouds.
“Visual on Galra dropship,” Lance said, voice clipped. “Fast approach, northeast. Confirming secondary ship behind it.”
“I’ve got a third,” Pidge said from the ridge. “Smaller. Escort class, probably fighters.”
Shiro’s voice stayed steady. “Maintain position. We intercept only if they breach. Don’t break ranks.”
But even he knew—it was only a matter of time.
From her place on the edge of the canyon, Yellow crouched low behind the barrier walls, Keith scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes.
“Can’t shake the feeling they’re testing us,” he muttered. “Circling first. Seeing what sticks.”
“They’re going to find a weakness eventually,” Hunk said. “We’ve got too many.”
Green arced high above the rooftops, scouting wide. “One’s definitely lining up for a pass,” Lance reported. “They’re checking our defenses.”
“Well, joke’s on them,” Pidge said. “We barely have any.”
A beat passed.
Then Shiro’s voice came through, low. Uneasy.
“Prepare to engage. And adjust plans as needed.”
“Adjust them how?” Keith muttered under his breath, shifting Yellow’s stance along the barricade line. “We barely had a plan to begin with.”
Red rumbled from the ridge, pacing like a caged animal beneath Pidge’s hands.
“They’re moving faster,” she reported. “The fighter’s peeling off toward the tunnel sector—probably scanning for weaknesses.”
“Copy that,” Shiro said. “Pidge, stay sharp. If they even look at that tunnel wrong, intercept.”
“Already lining up a shot,” she replied.
Lance pulled Green into a tighter arc, trying to stay above the rooftops without completely exposing himself. “We’ve got movement southeast. Dust trail—might be ground scouts or a light carrier. Can’t confirm, visibility’s garbage down there.”
“Could be a feint,” Hunk said. Black had taken position just outside the refugee cluster, crouched low and braced like a living bunker. “Or it’s a decoy to draw us off the ridgeline.”
“Or it’s both,” Keith added grimly. “They’re good at both.”
Shiro kept scanning from Blue, hovering at mid-altitude, relaying visuals to everyone else. “Pidge, anything on sensors?”
Red’s console flickered—again. Pidge slapped the side of it. “Trying, but she’s jamming my range. I think Red’s shorting out the long-range comm intercepts on purpose.”
“Awesome,” Lance muttered. “So we’re blind and out of sync.”
“We’re not out of the fight,” Shiro said, too quickly. Then, quieter, like he meant it more for himself, “We can still do this.”
Another beat. The first plasma burst came from the clouds.
A bolt of violet energy sizzled past the ridge—too high to hit, too deliberate to be anything but a warning shot.
“Yeah, no,” Pidge snapped. “That was a test run. They’re about to go loud.”
As if on cue, the second dropship broke formation. Its side panels opened mid-air, revealing rows of drone units locked into harnesses, already booting up weapons systems.
“Deployments incoming!” Lance shouted. “Multiple signatures, all zones!”
“Brace!” Shiro ordered. “Hold positions, wait for my signal—”
The drones dropped in clusters, trailing smoke and metal screeches. The ridge lit up with return fire from the lone functioning turret, but it was overwhelmed in seconds—half the drones slipped past, banking low toward the canyon and the tunnel mouth.
Red growled beneath Pidge, then launched before she gave the full command.
“I’m on them,” she said, voice sharp. “I’ll try to redirect the lead group.”
“Copy,” Shiro answered. “Keith, back her up if they reroute toward the civilians.”
Yellow shifted under Keith, the response sluggish but present. “On it.”
Hunk adjusted Black’s posture, targeting systems spinning up as a second wave descended over the southern bunkers.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, cannon systems, don’t make me look stupid right now—”
The cannon fired—once, twice, rocking Black’s entire frame with the recoil. Two drones exploded mid-air in a cascade of sparks.
Hunk blinked. “Oh. Oh, okay. That’s what that does.”
“Nice shot!” Lance said, swooping in to cut off another flanking drone.
Across the field, Keith swerved wide behind the canyon wall—too wide.
“Damn it,” he muttered, as Yellow’s shoulder clipped a communications post, knocking it clean over.
“Sorry!” he yelled, to no one in particular, then wheeled the lion into a tighter turn—only to overshoot the barricade line and slam into the dirt with a loud whump.
“Definitely defensive,” Keith mumbled. “Just offensively clumsy.”
Overhead, Lance circled Green in a high sweep. “I’ve got visuals—wait, no. Wait—Green, what is that?”
Schematics began flooding his HUD: tunnel blueprints, Galra ship specs, something about structural integrity and drone trajectories.
“Can you not math at me right now?” Lance asked. “Just circle the bad guys like a normal lion!”
Green chirped back in what sounded suspiciously like smug binary.
He fired anyway, nailing one drone square in the engine with a clean shot. It careened straight into a second, scattering debris across the canyon ridge.
“Still got it!” Lance cheered—then ducked as a beam grazed Green’s right wing.
“Less of it than I thought, okay!”
Hunk took a deep breath, fingers hovering over Black’s cannon controls. “Just need a second to aim…”
He hesitated.
It cost him.
A volley of plasma fire clipped Black’s flank before he could move. Sparks flew from the rear panel, and Black groaned low in response.
“Sorry! Sorry, sorry—learning curve! We’re all learning!” Hunk yelled, finally firing back with a blast that tore through two drones in a single lucky arc.
“Yes!” He fist-pumped in his seat. “And I meant to do that. Totally meant to do that.”
Above them, Blue spiraled in tight above the rooftops. Shiro adjusted altitude just as a fighter drone burst out of the clouds behind him.
He caught it a half-second too late.
“Blue, break right!” he ordered—but Blue banked left instead, right into the blast radius.
The cockpit rattled hard. Sparks danced along the dashboard, and Shiro swore, struggling to compensate. “Okay. Definitely not Black.”
He managed to right their flight path, losing a return shot that tagged a drone’s stabilizer. It dropped like a rock—crashing into a pile of Galra scrap near the canyon edge.
Pidge’s voice crackled in over comms, sharp. “The tunnel group’s doubling back—I’m rerouting to cut them off.”
He overcorrected again, swerving wide and nearly flattening a half-collapsed watchtower. Alarms blared across the console.
“Almost got it,” Shiro muttered. “Eventually. Probably.”
Lance’s voice crackled in. “You’re telling me. Green just showed me the internal schematics of a Galra freighter and the rock formations of the hills in the eastern field. I don’t need a science lecture mid-combat!”
“She’s trying to help,” Pidge cut in, sharp and defensive. “She gives information because she knows it’s useful.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not the one flying,” Lance snapped. “She doesn’t get to bury me in maps when I’m dodging laser fire!”
“I liked flying her,” Pidge said. “Maybe it’s not Green that’s the problem.”
“Oh, okay, so I suck at flying?” Lance shot back. “I didn’t ask for this lion!”
“Well, neither did she!”
“Can we not right now?” Keith cut in, voice tight. “Yellow’s a tank with the turning radius of a brick. I tap the controls and she either lurches or ignores me completely.”
“She doesn’t ignore you,” Hunk said, his usual gentleness edged with irritation. “You’re just not listening to how she moves. She’s solid. Reliable. If she’s fighting you, it’s because you’re pushing too hard.”
“I’m trying to steer her, not take her on a date!”
“Maybe try both,” Hunk muttered.
“Hey, Red just stopped my targeting input!” Pidge shouted. “She literally growled when I tried to override the flight path!”
“She’s not a drone,” Keith snapped back. “Red’s precise. She chooses her movements. If you treat her like a machine, she’ll act like you don’t exist.”
“I’m treating her like a lion that’s ignoring basic physics!”
“No, you’re treating her like she owes you something,” Keith said. “You think piloting her is about controlling her—she doesn’t work like that.”
“Don’t lecture me about Red,” Pidge muttered. “She’s the one acting like I’m a criminal.”
“I didn’t steal Blue,” Shiro said suddenly, more to himself than anyone. He’d been quiet until now, voice low and uncertain. “I just… I can’t get it right. She doesn’t listen to me either.”
The comms went still for a moment.
Even with drones swarming overhead, there was a silence that felt heavier than the battle.
Then Hunk exhaled. “We’re all out of sync. It’s not just the lions. We’re not working as a team.”
“You think?” Lance muttered.
The air cracked again with another blast overhead—this one skimming just above Red’s tail before Pidge veered into a hard roll.
She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Let’s stop arguing and focus on not dying!”
“That’s the most teamwork we’ve had all day,” Keith muttered, swinging Yellow in a lumbering arc to shield a cluster of bunkers.
Green chirped in Lance’s ears, lighting up another overlay. “Oh my god, please no more charts!” he groaned. “Just show me a target, not a geological cross-section!”
“Green’s trying to anticipate movement paths,” Pidge offered, voice clipped as she wrangled Red into position. “She always did like prepping for every possibility.”
“I don’t need possibilities! I need explosions!” Lance fired again, catching another drone mid-dive. “Boom! That’s what I want from my genius war-cat!”
Black took a hard hit to the flank again, sparks flaring across the armor. Hunk grunted, adjusting in the seat. “Black’s trying to cover for me. I can feel it. He’s shifting his armor to take the brunt. He’s looking out for me.”
“That’s what he does,” Shiro said quietly, Blue flying a cautious loop just below. “Even when it hurts him.”
Green chirped again—quieter this time. A new interface slid across Lance’s HUD: simplified. Clean. Three enemy signatures blinked red, marked with narrow predictive paths.
Lance blinked. “Oh. Okay, yeah. That I can work with.”
He adjusted Green’s flight path gently—less yanking, more suggestion—and she responded with a smooth arc around a collapsing building. Her wing clipped the smoke just enough to scatter it away from the ridge, revealing another drone cluster diving low.
Lance didn’t even think this time. He fired twice. Both hit.
There was a brief pause.
Then Green purred.
Lance actually laughed, breath catching in his chest. “You like that? Was that a good shot? Okay. Okay! We got this girl.”
His hands loosened on the controls. Still not relaxed, exactly, but no longer trying to brute-force her systems. Green adjusted altitude a hair before he could ask, lining up a new route across the eastern slope.
“You know,” Lance said, almost to himself, “this might actually work.”
Above them, Red hesitated.
Pidge noticed. She glanced toward Lance’s signal on her map, watching his movements smooth out, the way Green was starting to fly with him instead of around him. Something knotted in her chest—guilt, maybe. Or envy.
Red bucked beneath her slightly, a subtle dip of warning. Pidge didn’t say anything.
She knew Red had noticed, too.
“Nice formation, Lance,” Shiro said, his voice soft over comms. “Keep it up.”
Lance didn’t gloat. He just said, “Thanks,” and followed Green into another dive.
Lance nudged the controls again—lighter this time, not dragging Green through the motion but inviting her into it. The giant lion responded with a steady pivot, crouching low as they skimmed across the canyon ridge.
Another drone broke from the formation ahead.
Lance didn’t wait for Green to line it up. He just exhaled and adjusted the aim slightly. She did the rest.
The blast connected.
Not dead center. But enough to send the drone spiraling into a pile of wreckage.
“Okay,” Lance muttered. “That’s… two in a row. That’s a thing.”
There was a pause across the comms—just long enough to feel it. Not silent. Noticing.
“Nice shot,” Keith said, grudging but honest.
“Green’s moving smoother,” Hunk added. “A lot smoother than earlier.”
“She’s… listening more,” Lance said, almost surprised. “Or I am. I don’t know. I stopped yelling. That might’ve helped.”
“You stopped yelling?” Pidge’s voice broke in, dry. “Miracles do happen.”
Lance chuckled—just once, soft. “Yeah, well. Turns out she doesn’t like being bossed around.”
Shiro’s voice came next, quiet but steady. “Keep doing what works. That’s the first clean hit we’ve had since the drop.”
Even through the weight of everything, even with drones still swarming, something shifted. Like they were all standing at the edge of a thought no one wanted to say out loud.
A cluster of drones peeled off from the lead dropship and dove fast toward the refugee camp perimeter. The cannon fire from the ridge barely grazed them before they split—three heading for the supply bunkers, two banking straight for the medical tunnel.
“Red! Intercept!” Shiro barked. “Keith, back her—wait, no, Hunk, you’re closer—”
“I see them!” Hunk shouted, hauling Black into a turn. But Black’s rear leg dragged against the dirt like dead weight, throwing the whole lion off balance. Hunk cursed, overcorrected, and missed his shot by a mile.
“I’ve got the tunnel!” Pidge snapped. Red bucked hard beneath her as she tried to aim, the targeting system flickering erratically. “Okay—no, I don’t, she’s doing the thing again—dammit!”
One drone slipped through.
Lance gritted his teeth and yanked Green hard into a dive. “Nope. Not today.”
The lion resisted the jolt. Her head swiveled a second too late, but still, she followed the path. Lance eased off slightly, almost instinctively. Less force. More guiding.
They dropped like a stone. The HUD pinged and Lance fired.
The bolt clipped the drone’s stabilizer. It spun out and detonated against a ridge spire, raining sparks down over the field.
Green shuddered with the impact recoil, and Lance let out a shaky breath. “Okay. That… that wasn’t bad.”
“Lance, was that you?” Shiro asked.
“Yeah.” He blinked. “I think so. Maybe Green. Bit of both.”
“She’s still jerky,” Hunk noted. “But not fighting you like before.”
“Not as much, no,” Lance admitted. “She still doesn’t like me pulling too hard. Kinda grumbles. But she moved.”
“You’re lucky,” Pidge said through gritted teeth. Red jolted again mid-turn, and the roar of her repulsors buzzed with irritation. “Mine keeps stalling when I try to lead.”
“Red’s not a drone,” Keith said tightly. “You can’t just push—Yellow’s the same. I press forward, she shifts backward. I tap the brakes, she lunges. I’m trying to drive a boulder with moods.”
“Black’s acting like I don’t exist,” Hunk muttered. “He’s running defenses, but he’s not letting me steer any of it. I keep lining up shots and he closes the cannon—like he doesn’t trust me not to blow off a mountain.”
“Focus!” Shiro barked as another wave began to descend. “Keep them away from the tunnel and the camp!”
Lance wheeled Green up again, pulse quickening. A second cluster of drones was breaking into a pincer formation around the southern ridge. He tapped the controls—not forcing, just steering lightly.
Green hesitated. Then followed.
“Okay girl, I’m not trying to manhandle you. Let’s try this my way.”
The arc she pulled wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast. But it was just sharp enough to angle them over the front line.
Lance opened fire. One drone clipped. One missed. The third he tagged square in the engine. It exploded midair—just as a fourth dove into his blind spot.
“Ah—!” Lance jolted, too late. A blast smacked Green’s flank. The cockpit rocked hard. Sparks blew from the control panel.
“Damage on Green!” he yelled. “Still airborne—still flying!”
Shiro’s voice cut in. “Pull back if you have to! We’re already stretched!”
“I’m fine!” Lance shook his hand out. “Green’s still with me. Mostly.”
Behind him, Yellow crashed down awkwardly behind a supply building, Keith swearing loudly. “She just—she wouldn’t turn! I said bank right, not go into a spin!”
“That’s what I’ve been dealing with!” Hunk called. Black had pushed into the fight near the medical station, but he was firing wildly—off-target, erratic. “He’s just shooting on instinct, I’m barely involved!”
Pidge’s voice crackled in. “Red shut down targeting completely. I’m doing visual-only! This is like playing laser tag blindfolded!”
Lance winced. “Okay, look, I don’t have it perfect, but try not yelling at them. Just—ease into the turns. Ask instead of command. She started moving better when I—”
“Now is not the time for lion therapy!” Pidge snapped.
“Tell that to mine!” Keith shouted, mid-spin. “She just stopped! I didn’t even touch the brakes!”
“Guys—” Shiro’s voice broke through, heavy and urgent. “We’re slipping. Hold formation. We’re gonna lose ground if we keep flying like this.”
But no one could hold it. Every movement was too slow, too forced, too off-tempo.
Except Lance. Not good—but better. Green still pulled late, still hesitated, still chirped in protest at every hard order—but when Lance stopped treating her like a fighter jet and started treating her like a partner, she responded. Clumsily. Delayed. But she responded.
Three drones in tight formation shot toward the canyon wall, curving around the wreckage of a downed Galra turret. Lance inhaled, readying Green’s cannon again.
“Let’s do this,” he muttered.
But Green turned too late—no warning, no chirp, no blink on the HUD.
The shot went wide, blasting into rock. Dust exploded upward, obscuring the drones entirely.
“Wait—Green?” Lance’s grip tightened on the controls. “What was that?”
No answer. Just silence and a low mechanical groan from somewhere deep in her frame. The HUD flickered. Then steadied. Then flickered again.
He tried to adjust their flight path, gentler this time. Green didn’t move.
“Okay, what—hey, come on. We were doing fine. What’s wrong?”
Still nothing.
She wasn’t ignoring him. It didn’t feel like that.
But it was like they’d slipped out of sync. A missed beat in a dance. A radio just slightly off-frequency.
Green started to respond—but a second too late again. Her shot skimmed the top of another drone and detonated uselessly in the distance.
“Lance, tighten up!” Shiro called. “You’re drifting off your sector!”
“I'm trying! She’s—Green’s stopped listening!”
Across the battlefield, things weren’t going any better.
Keith braced Yellow behind the remnants of a collapsed stone wall, fingers flying across controls that didn’t respond fast enough. “She keeps doing the opposite of what I tell her,” he bit out. “It’s like she wants me to react to her instead of the other way around.”
“That’s how I’ve been flying Black this whole time,” Hunk said, breathless. Black’s systems were overheating—he could feel it in the way the seat shuddered and sparked beneath him. “I can’t tell if he’s protecting me or holding me hostage!”
“Red just powered down targeting again,” Pidge said. “Keith, tell your lion to listen!”
Keith snapped, “She’s not the problem—you’re just not flying her right!” He caught himself, teeth gritting. “Red never pulled this with me. Yellow’s the one giving me nothing—she lags, she ignores commands, it’s like flying through sludge!”
More drones dove, this time aimed for the back end of the medical bunker. Civilian shields flickered.
Shiro tried to intercept, but Blue lagged on the turn. She refused the input. Refused again. Then banked suddenly without warning—sending Shiro into a wild arc he didn’t plan.
One of the drones clipped the ground near the bunker and exploded—showering sparks over the tents. The others peeled up and around.
“We’re losing ground,” Keith said, grim. “They’re swarming faster than we can intercept.”
“No,” Shiro growled. “No. We hold the line. We hold the line.”
The Paladins pushed harder—clumsier now, wild and erratic. They weren’t piloting with precision anymore. It was reaction, instinct, grit. The lions moved in jerks and stumbles. Fire missed more often than it landed.
But some of it did land.
A blast from Red knocked one drone into another. Black, without warning, fired a full-power shot that carved a burning line across the cliffside and collapsed a narrow pass the Galra had been sneaking toward. Yellow, slow and lumbering, braced in front of the tunnel and caught the debris of a collapsing ledge with her back.
And Green—though disconnected again—let Lance pull her low enough to scrape another drone against the canyon floor like a fly swatted midair.
It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t teamwork.
It was barely survival.
But it was enough.
The last drone burst into pieces under Pidge’s final desperate shot. The sky, suddenly, was quiet.
Smoke curled from the ruined ridges. The static across their HUDs began to ease.
No more incoming signals. No more dropships.
Lance sat still in the cockpit, sweat trailing down his temple. “Did we…?”
“We did,” Shiro answered after a beat. His voice was hoarse. “We… yeah. We did.”
“Oh my god,” Hunk breathed. “I really didn’t think we would.”
“Same,” Keith said. “We weren’t ready. We’re still not.”
Before anyone could respond, a ripple of movement caught their attention below.
From the scattered bunkers and reinforced tunnels, the civilians began to emerge. Slowly at first—nervous, squinting up at the sky—but then with rising energy. A medic waved both arms. A cluster of children pointed skyward, jumping up and down.
Then the cheering started. It was loud and genuine.
Dozens of people below, shouting and clapping, their voices echoing across the canyon like a victory cry. To them, Voltron had arrived just in time. To them, the battle had been won decisively, heroically, the way legends said it always was.
They didn’t see the missed shots. The stumbles. The way the lions moved like strangers in borrowed armor.
They didn’t see that Voltron had never formed. They just saw the lions. And they cheered.
Lance swallowed hard, staring down through the HUD at the crowd below. Green shifted slightly under his hands, like she was unsure whether to bow or turn away.
“Let’s head back. We need repairs. And we need to talk.” Shiro said.
The lions pulled away one by one. No one spoke on the return flight.