Chapter Text
Her hands were poised at the controls, while, skipping in her chest, her blood thundered out a more telling beat.
In that particular moment, Acxa was simply glad that she was alone in her pod of the ship. She didn't have to work to actively disguise her anxious energy to better put her comrades at ease. She simply was; even as she fought to keep her voice level and her tone disinterested enough to help maintain the illusion of control she strove to present. No matter what she was feeling inside, she knew what she had to do. To that end, emotions were a luxury – a luxury that could feasibly see them all killed if she didn't carefully consider her every move. From here on out, the fates would not treat errors on her part kindly.
So – she would simply have to be very, very careful.
“We're coming up on our exit point,” she readied her teammates over the comms, flicking her eyes over the swirl of space surrounding them as if she could physically see their destination ahead. When she looked, only the wheeling of the stars was visible to the naked eye. “Heads up, ladies.”
“Copy that,” Zethrid was the first to reply – unsurprisingly so. Acxa would wager that she had scarce turned her attention from her own readouts from the moment they first entered hyperspeed. She glanced to see that, sure enough, Zethrid's eyes were narrowed in her comm-screen; her downturned mouth etched a deep scowl on her face. She wouldn't be content until this was over, Acxa knew - really, she couldn't quite begrudge her friend her ill mood in the slightest. Not this time.
It took Ezor a moment longer to reply – but then, that too was to be expected. Acxa did not need to be in close physical proximity to know that her despondency still hung over her shoulders like a shadow. She could hear it in her voice – could see it in the pinched, unhappy expression she was unable to wholly disguise. Not from them.
“You know, Acxa,” even so, Ezor pushed forward after a moment passed, “we don't have to do this. We know what this means for you.”
A pause. Acxa blinked. “Our options are somewhat limited,” she forced a wryness to her voice that she did not truly feel – not in whole. “What would you have us do instead?”
“Run,” Ezor replied bluntly. The single syllable dropped from her mouth like a blade falling. “We can run, and find somewhere to lay low on the universal rim - maybe find ourselves a nice, secluded tropical moon somewhere? There, we can keep our heads down with our toes in the sand - ”
“ - I just ask that we avoid exiling ourselves to a swamp planet,” Zethrid growled. She did not immediately disagree with Ezor - which was a troubling enough sign in of itself. “Or anywhere with snow.” She made a fist, and slapped it against the palm of her opposite hand to punctuate her words.
“ - there, maybe we can just wait this out?” Ezor continued. Her voice gained something of its usual pitch and verve as she quickly warmed to her own idea. “We can survive on our own, I know we can – we have before. And with Prince Lotor – well . . . with Lotor gone now, maybe Emperor Zarkon won't care that we slip away. He has, you know, the entire universe to busy himself with. We have to be the least of his concerns – right?”
“Or the desert – I'd rather a swamp over the desert; I just hate sand,” Zethrid still muttered while Ezor spoke. “Though I could do somewhere with mountains, the more I think about it. Minus the snow, of course.”
Acxa breathed out through her nose, and felt a small, sad smile twitch on her lips. “And for how long do you think we'll be able to hide on this theoretical moon, Ezor?” her voice sounded tired to her own ears. “It's only a matter of time before Voltron is captured and the rebellion crushed. It's shocking that they've lasted for as long as they have.” She could not yet think of how long Lotor would last with the full force of his father's might turned against him; not even when, scarce movements ago, she'd been determined to turn him over to that selfsame might in order to save both she and her shield-sisters. A betrayal for a betrayal. She hardened her jaw. “We hid something from the emperor that he's been seeking since times bygone. No, he will not forget us; he will not forgive us any more easily than that.”
An uncomfortable silence met her words; they knew she was right. What was more than that, they'd each seen firsthand just how brutally the emperor could move to act when inspired - they'd been instruments of destruction, marching at his orders, more often than not in their careers - and they were not foolish enough as to underestimate the odds stacked against them in the slightest.
Once, not too long ago, Acxa thought that she'd finally found a way to throw off the brutality of that yoke while still maintaining allegiance to her mother's people and the heritage she embraced. Once . . . before Lotor proved himself to be little better than his father when confronted with their first true test of trust and loyalty, that was. They were little more than pawns in a game of mehten to him – and she would not stand by to be so callously cast aside again.
. . . but she could not yet allow herself to think of that; not then, not in whole. So, she did not.
“Soooo, we throw in our lot with a faction that's just going to fail anyway? How's that any better?” Ezor made a dubious sound in the back of her throat. “I'd trust just we ourselves, on our own and looking out for each other.” For that much, at least, there was a spark of her old self in her voice.
“With this, we are not aligning ourselves with the rebellion – not quite," Acxa shared her reasoning - again. "This order has survived since the time of Daibazaal the First; it's even older than the emperor himself. I'd wager that it will continue to exist for long after even we are gone.”
Both Ezor and Zethrid were silent in reply. Acxa knew that they were not wholly convinced - yet they would follow where she led. That knowledge alone was another stone to add to the weight pressing down on her chest. For a moment, her breath was thin.
“Alright,” she could hear the shrug in Ezor's voice, even without glancing to her screen, “whatever you think is best, we'll do.”
“We're running out of time to back out, anyway. Our exit is approaching in about ten ticks - we'll need an opening line to avoid a firefight . . . unless,” Zethrid drew her lips back from her teeth, “you want a firefight? Because that's an option too.”
Acxa watched the time dwindle down in the corner of her screen. She held her breath, and forced her pulse to calm. She could do this, she could do this, she chanted to herself; she would do this.
Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .
“Negative on the firefight,” she felt a smile tug at her mouth to check the other woman, even so. “Not this time.”
“Well then – next time,” Zethrid smirked. At the very least, she appreciated the moment's honest consideration she'd given the idea. “You just say when.”
The ticks continued to count down. Seven . . . six . . . five -
“You know, there's still that tropical moon to fall back on if this fails,” Ezor pointed out, her voice tight. But her eyes were narrowed and her coloring was bright with more energy than Acxa had seen from her since Narti's death – since her murder.
Four.
Acxa felt the skin over her knuckles turn tight as she clenched the lever that would cut their speed. Her pulse pounded like thunder; she could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.
Three.
“The moment you say so, we're getting out of here – I dare them to try and stop us,” Zethrid's promise was a low slash of sound – even when not being able to feel her blood-beat, hearing the protective growl in her voice was just as fortifying, in its own way. “We've got your back.”
Two.
“Acknowledged,” Acxa exhaled, and then -
- one.
There was no going back then – only forward; their opportunity to run had passed. With one smooth motion, Acxa stalwartly pushed the lever to ease the ship from hyperspeed. The elegant kaleidoscope of starlight around her viewport ebbed, and then stilled – well, as much as it could truly calm with the breathtaking play of cosmic forces that greeted their arrival.
A great blue star immediately dominated their line of sight – a mighty stellar furnace blazing with intense heat and blinding light enough to send her sensors screaming for the gravitational havoc playing on her systems. A lesser ship would have been torn apart from the presence of the star alone – and that was before counting the event horizons of the twin black holes that bracketed the star, siphoning off energy from the blue giant with a slow, determined hunger. Their feast would last for millennia before the star burned out; their craving was insatiable enough to outlast even its great might.
Yet, until then . . .
Acxa opened up a hailing frequency, and found her courage to state with a boldness she did not entirely feel: “This is Acxa Eloy Tiye Khian aboard the starship Sincline II – my comrades and I have come to the Blade of Marmora seeking sanctuary . . . and bring with us intelligence that may turn the tide of the war.”