Chapter One
Alana had not cried when her long hair, her one vanity, had been hacked off by her aunt’s indiscriminating scissors and was now shorter than even Bethie’s. It stuck up around her head in spikes and looked more like Ethan’s hair than anything else except she’d dyed it a chestnut brown to match her new brown eyes. Gone were the dresses that filled her closet and they were replaced with utility pants and long-sleeved shirts that would have made Bethie and her mother proud.
She had understood what she was getting herself into by agreeing to come along on this journey and when it came time to say goodbye to her Uncle Sven and Ian, she kept her chin up and smiled bravely. They were heading to Jupiter Station where a great number of unsavory characters stopped to see a man that her aunt knew. Alana didn’t want to ask how Romelle came to know the man’s acquaintance and she’d thought about what she would say when they got there. Her mind had been busy with the possible outcomes so that it wasn’t until they flew past Mars in a ship that looked much worse than it really was did it all hit her.
Jason rolled up his sleeves as he left the cockpit to his aunt. His stomach was grumbling and his watch told him it was way past dinner. Romelle hadn’t said anything, but he knew she was hungry too and he was going to see what he could do about that in the ship’s small kitchen. He was at the doorway when the sounds of sobbing halted his footsteps. They were raw and tore at his heart, but he was a Branegan—in other words, this was not his territory. Chances were, he would cause more hurt than healing if he went to her right then and it would do her more good if he stayed away.
Yet…
Stepping through the doorway, Jason saw Alana curled up on the long bench by the room’s single porthole, her face buried in her folded arms. The sounds of his footsteps made her raise her head and he could see that she had been crying for some time.
“Lana?” he said gently.
“Hi,” she said, hiccupping.
Taking a seat at her back, he put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze.
“Bet you didn’t expect this,” she said.
“Not really. I was expecting a roast beef sandwich, to be honest.”
That drew a reluctant smile from her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She felt stupid now, especially because it had to be Jason that had to find her in such a vulnerable state. As close as they were, there were some things that she did not expect from him and comforting her over the ridiculous loss of her hair was one of those things. It was trite compared to everything else that was happening but she supposed it could be considered the hair that broke the camel’s back—no pun intended.
“No, I’m okay,” she answered. “I just needed to let that out.”
He handed her a napkin and rose. Letting her put herself back together, he stuck his head in the fridge and took out the necessary ingredients for the aforementioned roast beef sandwich.
“Do you want one?” he asked.
“No, thanks.”
“You sure? I bet you were hungry after all that.”
The napkin stilled on her face as she looked at him incredulously.
“I forgot that you have the sensitivity of a gorilla,” she said.
“I’ve heard that before.” He gave her shorn hair a cursory glance. “That look suits you.”
She fingered the short strands at her neck. “What?”
“That cute pixie thing you’ve got going,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards her. “It’s nice. You’ve got the face for it and I gotta say, I’ve seen plenty of faces that could not pull that off.”
She blinked, surprised that she found comfort in his casual comment. “Oh…thanks.”
He finished putting together three sandwiches, putting one in front of her despite her protests.
“Eat up,” he said. “It’s gonna be a long ride.”
Alana nodded, picking up the sandwich, but her eyes didn’t leave his face.
“Jason, I’m kinda happy you came.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet you are because that’s the best roast beef sandwich you’re ever going to taste.”
Sure enough, he was right.
Back in the cockpit, Romelle devoured the sandwich so quickly that Jason wasn’t sure if she even tasted it. Her hair was cut short, though not as short as Alana’s, and was dyed red, her eyes green. Jason was not especially excited about the look, as he had reluctantly told her that it brought only more attention to her physical beauty, but she assured him that she would use that to her advantage. The thought of it made him nervous…and slightly nauseous.
“What’s Lana doing?” she asked after swallowing the last bite.
“Just thinking,” he answered. “You could go back there. I can handle this alone.”
“No. I’m done thinking.”
Jason had to agree. There were bags under his eyes from a number of sleepless nights as he worried about how his family was. He knew that Jack and the rest of the Voltron Force had fled the scene, but his parents were unaccounted for. His best guess was that his mother had evacuated Voltronia and was down in the base with them. His father…well Lance could easily have been in Castle Control with Keith and Allura. It was imaginings of his father’s demise that kept Jason on edge. If there was someone who could get himself killed by just running his mouth, it was Lance Branegan. And to save his King and his best friend, Jason knew that his father would do it on purpose.
He had agreed to come on this trip without hesitation. He’d had to take leave from the Academy but that had been easy to obtain and did not bother him in the least. He’d tried to make himself useful at Sven’s office but found himself making coffee for the higher-ups and he didn’t envy Ian that chore now that he had to do it alone. Though Jason was not sure how Romelle planned to go about this information gathering voyage, he trusted her abilities and knew that they would find something—and he hadn’t needed to get a makeover to figure that out.
Alana came in then, her face scrubbed clean but her red-rimmed eyes gave her away. Jason smiled reassuringly at her when she took a seat behind them. She looked uncomfortable in her new comfortable clothes and he turned in his seat, tapping her knee with one finger.
“You need to look a little more slouchy,” he said.
She sniffed. “What?”
Romelle glanced at her, slightly amused. “He has a point, Lana. You look like you’re a princess in commoner’s clothing.”
“That’s because I am one.” Alana rolled her shoulders and slid down her seat. “How’s this?”
“Do your best impression of Bethie,” Romelle suggested.
Alana’s face faltered at the mention of her sister. “I wonder what she’s doing right now.”
“Probably being slouchy,” Jason answered.
Alana laughed, the first time she had in days. Romelle smiled, sliding a grateful look at the young man in the co-pilot’s seat.
“So Aunt Romelle…” he said.
“Yes?”
“Are we there yet?”
Her smile turned wry. “Don’t start, Jay.”
They reached Jupiter in half a day and docked at one of the more dilapidated section of the base. They were posing as a merchant family with Romelle and Alana as mother and daughter and Jason as Alana’s husband. The family was down on its luck, and as such, they could not use the accommodations that they were used to. Jason kept a firm arm around Alana’s shoulders as they made their way through the throngs of people and he could feel her tense underneath him whenever someone brushed up against her. Romelle moved through them easily and if not for her red hair, Jason would have lost her in the crowd.
“Relax,” he said into her ear. “You gotta blend in and looking scared isn’t going to do that.”
“I’m just not used to this, that’s all,” she hissed back.
The pub where Romelle had scheduled to meet the information broker was fairly busy and raucous music came out of speakers that they could not see. Seedy individuals of varying races and species were scattered throughout the room and Jason pulled Alana into a booth. They would provide backup for their aunt who struck out to find the broker.
“What’ll you have?” the bored looking waitress asked.
“Two pints,” Jason said, tossing a small bill onto her tray.
“Coming up.”
“I’ve never had a pint,” Alana whispered.
Amused, Jason pushed the mug in front of her when the waitress brought their drinks. Alana picked it up, gave it a curious sniff, and with a wrinkled nose, took a sip. He silently congratulated her for not spitting it out right after.
“How can people drink this?”
“Not everyone can live on the best Arusian wine,” he said, taking a swig of his.
“Okay, then how can you drink this?”
He shrugged. “The Academy teaches you more than calculus.”
Romelle came back then, sliding in next to Alana. She gave their drinks a disapproving glance, but didn’t say anything. She waved the waitress away, shaking her head.
“Done?” Alana asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s it?” Jason asked.
“That’s it.”
“Should we go back then?” Alana inquired.
“No one comes to Jupiter Station for twenty minutes,” Romelle said. “Let’s see if we can get any useful supplies here first. Are you two done drinking or should I wait?”
Jason gulped down the remainder of his beer and Alana’s, and stood as if it had been water. Romelle’s eyes narrowed but he smiled guilelessly, reaching for Alana.
“My little wife doesn’t like it here much,” he said.
“I can’t say I blame her,” Romelle said, glaring at a man who brushed up against her.
The marketplace was expectedly crowded and the noise level was incredible as people bargained with stall owners for their wares. Romelle proved to be a tough sell but they came away with some spare parts that they could use as well as some food that would store well. They returned to the ship two hours later, arms loaded down with bags, and Alana buckled herself in as Romelle and Jason prepped the ship for departure.
“Are you going to tell us what the broker told you?” Alana said when they were disengaged from the base.
“He directed us to Planet Tranis,” Romelle said. “Apparently there has always been a movement there supporting Lotor and Zarkon, and it has not quite died, despite being part of the Alliance. The government kept that little secret from the Senate and Galaxy Garrison for obvious reasons.”
“Do you think Uncle Sven has looked there?” Jason asked.
“I doubt it or else we would have heard about it on the Senate floor.”
“How far is it?”
“Three days, so I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”
“Maybe even slouchy,” Alana muttered.
Jason tossed her a grin.
