Interlude: Archent

There was no preparing for situations such as this. Archent had known what he was getting into when he agreed to work with Colonel Branegan and Captain Yearling, had not shirked his duties when he had to go above and beyond during Merla's invasion. But this whole magic business was an unwelcome result of this whole mess. Since he'd been a small child, he'd gotten twinges that saved him from getting crushed by a bale of hay, from not crossing in the path of a wild horse, from not stepping on a landmine...even from marrying a woman that he did not love. He thought that he was just lucky and his mother told him that he was born under a lucky star, but his reaction to the first ro-beast hatching told him differently.

It had felt as if he was being ripped from the inside out. Archent had a fairly high threshold for pain which was why he was able to stop himself from screaming, but he could not move and he had to lean up against a wall to keep himself upright. It felt as if his heart was trying to jump out of his chest except it had claws and they were razor sharp. At first he thought he was having a heart attack, but the pain immediately stopped when the ro-beast was free. He wondered if that's what it felt like to get stabbed in the chest...repeatedly...with a jagged blade. It had frightened him at first, but then it started to happen with more frequency and he'd gotten used to it. He did not want to mention it to anyone because he did not think anyone could help. That is, until Colonel Branegan had asked and he knew he could trust the man with the truthful answer. Now, he knew that he was not alone in this...the Crown Prince and Princess of Arus had felt the same thing. That was intriguing, to say the least and Colonel Branegan would make sure that he would get the answers he needed about this particular...ailment.

In his long career in the ARF, Branegan was the best commanding officer he ever had and Archent did not chafe under his command, which was more relaxed than he was used to but something he could work with. He'd joined because there was a war, and he'd stayed because he had not known anything else, but he knew that the ARF and he were not a good fit. Not in the way that Colonel Branegan was not a good fit, in that disrespecting authority kind of way, but more like he was not comfortable in his shoes. Though, that was not to say that he was not a good soldier. He was decorated and had made his parents proud, but each step he took had cost him. He hated killing, even though it was the enemy, and the taking of life had made him feel as if a part of him had died. It was cliched but it was true. He was an intelligent tactician, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but he hated what his gifts could do to others. He was, above all else, a farmer, having gotten the farm his father had built before Zarkon had destroyed the land. Since he'd left the ARF, Archent had brought it back to life and nothing satisfied him more than getting his hands in his soil, feeling the beat of life underneath his palms.

It was on the farm did Branegan and his sister found him. He hadn't wanted to leave, but it had been an intriguing assignment and he was not above wanting to hit the ARF back where it hurt. He'd been included into the inner circle that was the former and present Voltron Force and to be surrounded by famous faces and names had intimdated him at first, until he saw that they did not see themselves as such. They did not look at him as an outsider and spoke to him as an equal. It had surprised him but he got over it quickly because they expected him to do his job and he was not going to let them down in that. The only way to get through this was to keep his eye on the goal and that was to destroy the woman who was doing this to all of them.

Running behind the King of Arus, Archent was struggling to keep his focus as he felt a pressure in the middle of his chest. It wasn't like what he felt with the ro-beast. If anything, it was warmer and made him feel suddenly stronger. It had thrown him off his pacing, but then everyone around him stopped moving and looked up. He followed their gazes and his mouth dropped open when he saw Voltron lit up against the blue skies. He felt an answering light inside him...

"Let's go!" Porterfield said. "They need our help down there!"

Archent remembered how he felt when the killing had started, how it felt as if he had his legs cut out from under him. It had taken an incredible amount of willpower to lurch back to the base to report but a good part of that was due to the fact that he just wanted to get away from it. Pain and anger hit him with all the force of a physical blow and he staggered. The King glanced backwards at him.

"Hang in there, Archent," he said, understanding.

Archent nodded, could not find his voice, as they went down into the crowds of people. There were faces he recognized, contorted with sorrow. A woman he used to buy honey from stopped him, both hands gripping his jumpsuit as she cried that her daughter had just fallen dead right before her eyes.

"What's happened here, Derta?" Archent demanded, aghast.

"They just started to die!" she screamed and moved away from him, shaking her fists at the sky.

"Archent!"

Archent turned at the familiar voice of his commander. Lance's face was smudged with dirt and his hazel eyes were harried, but his mouth was set in a way that Archent recognized.

"Your wife is alright," he said to Lance.

"Yes, thank God, but these people aren't. Where's Keith?"

Archent looked down the corridor and saw the King's dark head making its way down. He was continually being stopped by people but he knew how to deal with them, setting them aside gently so that he could get to the heart of this. Lance spotted him and he pushed through the crowds to get to Keith, Archent at his heels.

"Lance," Keith said, relieved. "Link...?"

"She's fine, but Keith...Merla just started taking them out."

Keith sucked in a breath. "Archent, I want you to get a body count. Lance, come with me."

It often fell to Archent to do the dirty work and he didn't mind it usually, but today he did. His head was beginning to pound from his heightened sensitivity to the emotions of those around him. He wished he knew how to make it stop but he was in too much pain to even think about it. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise. Taking several deep breaths, he got his pain level down to more workable levels and he pushed himself off the wall slowly. Reaching out, he grabbed a soldier who was about to run by him.

"Have the bodies been taken care of?" he asked.

"Most of them are in the mess," the soldier answered. "But there are a couple here and there, where they fell."

"Thanks."

It was not hard to find the mess as the floor plans of the bases did not differ much from one another. It was another scene of chaos inside but Archent recognized the woman standing on a table directing the action. Mayor Branegan had gotten his vote every year that she ran and he saw then the kind the leadership that she brought to Voltronia. She glanced over at him, recognizing him, and gave him a brief nod before yelling out more orders.

The bodies shook him to his core. His expression did not betray his emotions, but the tightness around his mouth did. There were too many faces he knew, people who he had known growing up in Voltronia, and it angered him to see them lying on tables, the floor, murdered by a woman who used her power to hurt instead of heal. Taking out a datapad, he tried to do his job, but his hands began to shake.

"Are you alright, James?"

He looked up and saw the pilot of the Green Lion looked up at him, her low, husky voice distinctive. He'd had little contact with Cadet Van Voorst and this was probably the first time they had exchanged more than a one word greeting. She was beautiful and looked a lot like the King's children, but there was a sharpness to her features that made her face more sensual than her cousins. Her eyes were a darker shade of blue, closer to a deep ocean than the sky, and her hair a honey blonde rather than sunshine. Everything about her seemed dark and had an edge, but the gentleness in her touch and the concern in her gaze contradicted all that.

"I've been better," he said honestly.

She put a hand over his, steadying him and she put a cool palm against his forehead. He felt her touch like it was electric and she seemed to feel the same thing if the widening of her eyes was any indication.

"You've got the magic," she said, eyebrows arching. "Did you know that, James?"

"Yeah...I'm just a little more affected by it than I usually am..."

Jordan was stronger than she looked and she helped him to his feet. He did not argue with her when she took him out into the corridor and into an empty room far from the mess. He could feel the pressure in his head ease and he sat down on the bed, blinking rapidly.

"Thanks," he said.

"You looked like you were going to pass out," she said. "My cousins have been affected by Merla's actions, but not like you were just now...it seems to hit you very hard."

"Don't ask me why."

"I wasn't going to," she said. "You know, if I could get my hands on Merla, I would rip her apart limb from limb. How could she do this? Why would she do this?"

"I fought during the war with Zarkon. I was very young then but even so, when it was over, I knew that I did not want to kill again. But despite all that I believe in, I can't say that I disagree with you. She's a monster."

"We hit her back today and I hope she knows now that we can finally fight back."

"I saw when Voltron formed," he said. "You did good work."

"Bethie and Ethan did good work. I just did my job."

"That's all they ask of you." He tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "Do you like flying?"

"I love it. It's in my blood," she said. "It's just that I wish I could do more."

"We all do."

"You do plenty, James. Uncle Lance has you running around doing all the dirty work and you seem to know how to do everything well. Where did he find you?"

"On my farm."

The answer seemed to surprise her and he did find some amusement in that. With his auburn hair peppered with silver, frank gray eyes, broad shoulders and powerful build, he was not what one expected a farmer to look like. He still maintained his fitness regiment on the farm, though at a less intense level. Jordan had clearly taken note of that.

"What do you grow?" she inquired.

"A field of corn and a small vegetable garden that is self-sufficient. I have...had a couple animals." Archent looked away. "It was destroyed in the first attack."

"I'm sorry."

"I built my farm up with my own two hands before. I can do it again."

She smiled.

"That's very admirable of you. You're an interesting man."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly aware that they were in a rather intimate setting. She seemed to come to the same conclusion and he could see that she was uncomfortable by the way her eyes were darting around the room. He stood slowly and she started to reach for him, but he put a hand up to stop her.

"I'm better," he said. "Thanks for your help."

She nodded.

"Do you need help with what you're doing?" she asked.

"I could use an extra hand."

"Great. Tell me more about your farm. We need something else to think about while we do this...magic or not, I don't think I can take it for too long either."

Ignoring the growing pressure in his head, Archent began to talk and Jordan listened.