Commander Keith Porterfield packed his suitcase. He shoved his uniforms and assorted articles of clothing with the same ferocity he used when shooting down Drule fighters. He trembled with barely concealed anger and mumbled expletives under his breath, unable to believe what had come to pass.

He was being sent to Arus.

He cursed loudly at the thought of that planet. It was a wasteland after being ravaged for years by Zarkon, not to mention the most dangerous of places. Not that Keith had an aversion to danger. What he did have an aversion to was the fact that he wouldn't be flying. He would be underground with the rest of the Arusian Rebel Forces like a mole. In addition to being grounded, he was going to have to deal with the young leader of the ARF. She was known for being difficult and headstrong, often getting into loud arguments with the top Alliance leaders. Keith had to agree with some of her points, but the fact remained that she was regarded as somewhat of a shrew.

The young commander locked his suitcase and sat on his bed with a heavy sigh. He glowered at his boots, polished to a blinding shine. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He was a perfect officer with a clean record and good military standing. He was decorated, draped in fact, with medals, and had hundreds of hours of flight time under his belt. He was one of the best pilots the Alliance had. Then, one mistake threw him to the dogs. He buried his face in his hands.

"Looking kinda down, Superman," a voice at the door joked.

Keith raised his head and saw his longtime friend, Lieutenant Commander Lance Branegan standing at the doorway. Lance sauntered into Keith's quarters, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. Even though his uniform was buttoned correctly and was perfect according to Alliance regulations, Lance somehow gave the impression that something, anything, was out of place. Keith smirked. Most likely it was the uniform on the man. Lance was probably the most disobedient officer in the history of the Alliance and Keith had been surprised, as was Lance, that he had made it this far. The only reason he was an officer in the first place, Lance continually told his friends, was because he enjoyed blowing Drule ships to hell.

"You should be smiling," Lance was saying as he lounged on the armchair across from Keith. "You finally get to be out of the Doldrums."

"I'm going to Arus!" Keith exclaimed, throwing his arms out. "Why didn't they just throw me in the mess hall?!?"

"They're probably afraid that you'll start a mutiny in there," Lance retorted with a grin. "Arus isn't so bad. You'll be in the middle of the action and you'll have me around to brighten your days."

Keith blinked. "What?"

Lance winked. "I'm tagging along, pal!"

Keith didn't know whether he should jump for joy or punch him the face. He opted for confusion.

"Why would you even consider going to Arus?" he demanded.

"I volunteered," Lance replied, shrugging. "I wasn't going to let you leave me here. It would be unbearably boring without you or Sven around."

Keith rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming along. "Sven's coming too?"

"Yup," his friend answered gleefully. "He stood up for you after we heard about the decision and BOOM! He was charged with insubordination when he didn't stand down and is now going to be shipped off with you." He grinned. "Well, with us really."

"I can't believe this. Any more tag-a-longs?"

"Not that I know of."

Keith ran a hand through his shorn black hair. "I hope to God they don't keep us there for more than six months." He looked at Lance. "Are you all packed?"

"Yeah."

"Then, let's get going."

Lance chuckled. "Yeah, we sure don't want to miss that transport," he teased lightly.

Keith threw him a withering look. They headed out the door.

Allura, leader of the Arusian Rebel Forces, stared dumbfoundedly at the communique from Galaxy Garrison. Her right-hand man, Coran, stood next to her. He patiently waited for the explosion that he knew was inevitable.

"Are they kidding me!" she roared, throwing her arms up. "I don't need any more of their men. We're doing just fine without them littering my base!"

Coran tried to forget the base they had lost the week before and looked down at the fuming young woman.

"Calm down, Allura," he soothed. "You know these men will be gone as soon as Galaxy Garrison decides their sentences are up. From what I've read, that won't take long. They appear to be fine young men..."

"With delusions of grandeur and sticks up their..."

"They will be good to have around," Coran interrupted, not allowing her to continue her cursing. "This Commander Porterfield is an gifted strategist as well as..."

"What makes you think he'd want to waste his time helping us? Don't you know, Coran? We are the black hole of the Alliance. Nothing can be done for us. Porterfield will probably act like a prima donna and think that he could give orders around here."

Coran sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see for ourselves, then."

He left her to sulk. Allura turned back to the screen, brushing a few stray strands of wavy blonde hair from her face. She scrolled down through the files of the incoming officers, three of them to be exact, until she got to their pictures at the end of the file. She mumbled about inconsiderate Alliance generals and their stupid secretaries' inability to paste pictures next to bios as her eyes scanned the faces on the screen. She paused on a dark eyed, black-haired soldier with a serious expression on his face. She would have considered him handsome had she not seen the number of pips on his collar as well as the medals on his chest. She sneered. Another Alliance puppet. They were all faceless masses to her.

Commander Keith Porterfield, she read.

She leaned back in her chair. He looked like a fine, upstanding man, just as Coran had described, but there was something about him that made the alarms in her head go off. She twined her hands together and stared at him thoughtfully, a frown on her face.

He looks like trouble.

Allura sighed and stood. The second her weight left the chair, the computer screens turned off. She put her hand on the pad next to the door and they slid open. The ARF headquarters were heavily secured wtih key pads and hand identifications needed at each door and the most important rooms, like the main control room, could only be opened by Allura or Coran. Ultimately, only Allura had access to absolutely everything and she had wanted it that way. They had been compromised too many times for her to relax security.

She walked down the brightly lit corridors and gazed around from habit to make sure there were no people skulking in the shadows. She kept a hand on the blaster strapped to her thigh. No place was safe and no one was out of danger, most of all herself. In fact, ever since the people of Arus had taken to the underground network of bases after Zarkon's final attack, no Arusian who valued his or her life had seen the sunlight. That was ten years ago and Allura had only been eight then. She could barely remember what the sky looked like, but she remembered the day her parents died. It felt like she had lived countless lifetimes since then.

The young leader entered her room and locked the double titanium doors after she made sure her quarters were secured. Exhaustedly, she kicked off her boots and undid her long golden hair, the one vanity she allowed herself. Her shapeless black pants with utility pockets and dark blue, long-sleeved shirt gave no hint to the curves she possessed because she needed to hide the body armor underneath.

Allura climbed into the shower, letting the warm water sluice over her. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the tiled wall, her head beginning to ache. Problems filled her head and she got no respite from them even at rest. She had nightmares of Zarkon finding them and destroying headquarters, the heart of the ARF, like he had done to the surface and the Castle of Lions, Arus' soul. Killing her like he did her parents, the King and Queen of Arus. Allura smiled bitterly. By birth, she was a Princess, but only by name. She was a princess with no palace, no wealth, and no planet to rule and guide. Instead, she controlled and organized every movement of the various factions of rebel forces spread throughout Arus, her broken world. Far from the glamorous life that a Princess would usually have.

She pulled her armor back on after she dried off. A minute under the dryer made her hair shine under the light, aware that she probably wouldn't be able to indulge in this simple luxury for a while. She was lucky to have gotten the extra time as it was. Usually, she spent it sleeping, but she couldn't stand how her hair looked. She sat before her dresser and brushed it like her mother used to do. She looked at her reflection, at the hard expression and the cold eyes. She tried to smile, but her face refused to comply. Shrugging, she didn't allow it to bother her for there were worst things to worry about. For all she knew, she would be blown into pieces in the next ten minutes. With a bemused expression at the thought, she turned away and went to bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.