Status Quo:
Chapter One: The Tyrant Awakens
by Kyence

Disclaimer: All Voltron characters are property of World Events Productions.

‘’ denotes character thoughts
 

Electrodes and sensors attached to his body, operating the metallic puppet. Being electrocuted. Seeing the immense Blazing Sword of Voltron slice the video into two. The shock and force flinging him to the rear of the cockpit knocks him unconscious. Waking up to the sound of his blood sizzling against the cockpit’s metal. Looking at the video screen to find it intact, displaying the celestial array of stars. It had been over a month since he had escaped the robeast made in his image.

The escape ship Hagar had secretly built managed to save his life. As blunt as that sounded, it was the truth. He hated that more than anything. Being reduced to a robeast pilot, being defeated in battle, but being spared only because of someone’s misplaced mercy...

“Wow,” he had said aloud to himself. ‘How weak I have become! They couldn’t have become stronger; it had to be me. The fallacy in delegating military control to fools who couldn’t distinguish tactical strategy from a hole in the ground was my own. Voltron and the Alliance would never have become the dire threats they now were if I had been more aggressive and cruel in the beginning. I will not err in such a way again, especially with Lotor.’

“Lotor,” Zarkon uttered in a disgusted tone, consuming the processed recycled air with the moniker of his ungrateful, treacherous son.

“Lotor,” he repeated again, this time with a mournful lament that no one in the Universe would ever hear. He looked at the distant stars shining through the screen as he sat on the cold metal floor, his back leaning against a beam. He had since grown weary of the cockpit seat; it was too small to accommodate him comfortably. Instead, he preferred to recline against the ship’s body, dozing off from time to time without the worry of slamming his head or stretching his feet into life-sustaining circuitry, positioning himself so that he would always have a glimpse of the screen, his only window to outer reality. For now, his stars were his audience, his subjects.

‘I have been in this ship for too long,’ he thought. His son’s name reverberated through his mind as he stared at the cosmos.

“Fine, fine. So I am reviled throughout the known Universe,” he began, nonchalant words spilling from his lips, “but everything I had ever wanted as a youth, I gave to Lotor.” He paused before adding, “In fact, I gave him even more.” He stood up, announcing in a proud yet self-admonishing tone, “I’ve spoiled him rotten, literally.”

Zarkon began pacing the few feet the diameter of the cockpit allowed him, his eyes staring at his feet with an angry intensity that would have terrified anyone who would have beheld it. “Whatever Lotor wanted, whatever he asked for, whatever he demanded, I gave it to him!” Zarkon emphasized himself in the proclamation. “Whatever he didn’t want, he didn’t get,” he continued.

Furiously walking back and forth, he recalled the particular demands that he had conceded to Lotor against his own personal interests. He pointed his left index finger north.

“Lotor didn’t want to practice Vajelic Nihilism...” Zarkon snapped with his right hand, “...he didn’t.” He spun around to face the stars, showing two fingers pointing north. “Lotor didn’t want to learn Ancient Hieyg...” he said in a mocking, childish voice, continuing after another snap of the fingers, “...he didn’t.”

“Lotor wanted a harem, a private jet, glory, fame, power,” Zarkon rambled the list, his fingers rising to account for each occurrence.

“I gave him everything! Everything, except for one thing.” With that, Zarkon’s hard features softened. He lowered his fingers as he approached his pondering corner.

“His mother.” His pacing ceasing, he sat down for the 3,247th time, though for the first time with this memory. The scene played through his mind, overriding the vision provided by his bored eyes.

“I want Mama back,” echoed through his ears. A young Lotor, blinked back tears. The poor child was doing everything in his being to maintain composure before his fear-inspiring father. “Please, bring her back, Pa-Tr,” he pleaded.

Zarkon looked down at his son. The boy was so handsome and charming. It was obvious where Lotor’s good looks and charisma came from...and name, for that matter. Zarkon had been the meat in a genetic Lotor sandwich.

He sighed, his reverie momentarily broken by his family tree to food analogy. “What I wouldn’t do for some organic meat and bread right now. I’d even barter my crown,” he craved. He chuckled, but his new demeanor did not persist much longer. He still had the pleading Lotor in his mind. Up to that point, he had provided everything he had deemed worthy of Lotor’s attention for him. His son had never demanded anything before that day.

‘It figures that the first thing he’d voluntarily ask for, I couldn’t provide,’ he thought retrospectively.

“I can’t,” he had said. “No one can.”

“Yes you can,” Lotor had replied, not convinced, not accepting. “You can do anything you want!” he yelled.

Zarkon’s eyes had narrowed, effectively quashing any further queries or argument.

Lotor’s eyes expressed a look as well, one Zarkon would never forget. It was one that had suggested a dark enlightenment, the identity of a new enemy. Zarkon was Lotor’s new enemy.

The young soul whispered somberly with his eyes downcast, “I understand.” Lotor then turned and walked away, whispering something so low and quiet that were it not for Zarkon’s auditory strength, he would have never heard it. “I understand,” began the whisper. “You can do anything...you just don’t want to.”

‘What could I have done?’ he thought. ‘If I had allowed Borrhéan on life support, Lotor would still not have had his mother back. And even if I had allowed it, and she did awaken, who is to say that she wouldn’t have pulled this again?’

“Should I have been truly cruel, and told him the truth? That his mother preferred suicide to living with us?!” he cried.

‘No, it was better to have everyone suspect, and draw their own sundry conclusions. It made me seem capable of anything. It spared Lotor the pain, shame, and displaced guilt that would have grown from that piece of knowledge’

‘Or was it? Look at the state I am in now,’ he considered as he frowned. ‘Lotor has defeated me. I am exiled. I have no way of determining how Dhm has fared against Voltron. I don’t even if Lotor is…’

He sighed, and addressed the stars once again, chasing away the morbid notion before he could complete it. ‘As angry as I am towards Lotor, I cannot wish him dead.’ Despite all of his hatred for Lotor, which had grown steadily since Borrhéan’s death, some part of him continued to care about his only living child.

“If my plans work out, I will not have my Lotor dead.” He shook his head. His words grated from his teeth, seeping with wounded pride that needed healing, though part of him was already protesting. “Nooo, that would too easy. The best revenge will be when that scrub is on his knee, prostrated before me as he pledges loyalty to me, the way a son is supposed to. Nothing else will do.”

‘Don’t even try to act like you don’t care about him,’ he heard his inner voice say. ‘You always gave him the benefit of the doubt, even when the truth was screaming in your face.’

‘He hated you. He wanted you dead, and as far he knows, he succeeded. Do you really think he is mourning you? Think again. He still hates you. It’s as simple as that. He thought he could poison you, he thought he could defeat you one-on-one; he failed those times. He finally figured out to hit you at your most vulnerable point: the Drules. They’d had enough of you, and so did your son. But you still care, don’t you?’

He stood up and approached the video screen. ‘I have become weak,’ he acknowledged once more. ‘But I will have my revenge. I will not forget this insult upon my character. To think, the Great King of Dhm, reduced to a sniveling whelp whining about past grievances. I will not forget this. I have been cast down, but I will not give them the satisfaction of crushing my will. I know I will be looking down upon them all again soon enough. I will be vindicated.’

“I just need some outside help.”

It had been almost an immediate decision to set the coordinates for Planet Apodia when he had first awakened. He knew it was two whole galaxies away from the Denubian, but the trip would be well worth it. He did not have much of a choice anyway: death by starvation, death by execution, life imprisonment, or the worst, living out the remainder of his years in a secret humble lifestyle.

“No more of that.”

‘It should be no problem to ask for aid on my part; I only have a tiny shred of dignity left, buoyed on a sea of vengeful rage. It cannot be reached for now. Essentially it was safe, especially from me. As long as I have some left to build, I will emerge victorious once again!’

“Attention, attention,” the automatic pilot announced. “Destination approaching.”

Zarkon was jolted from his pondering by the computer voice. “About time.” He had long given up on expecting a retort from the AI. ‘Hell, Hagar had designed robots that were infinitely capable of being conversationalists, some to being the point of nausea, yet somehow did not deem such a luxury necessary in a ship designed to keep a single person ALIVE and ALONE for months. Of course, she was building the stupid thing at gunpoint, but if she could sneak an escape ship in, would an interactive AI program have been so hard?’

“Even Minesweeper would be welcome at this point,” he snarled. Zarkon sat in the pilot seat, and shut down the autopilot. He grimaced at the simplicity of the controls. “Okay, so you think I’m senile, too, huh?” Suppressing the urge to rant at absolutely nothing at all would have been impossible had not a hailing signal from the Sapientydan Apodian Outerworld Survey Station, or as Zarkon had endearingly called it in his earlier years, the “Pain in the AOSS” arrived. “Then again, you probably don’t even realize that’s what it gets translated into in Standard English.”

“Halt your ship’s engines. You are not permitted to proceed without clearance. Failure to comply will result in your ship’s destruction,” came the gruff voice in the typical Sapientydan dialect.

“No one would EVER think a woman had that voice,” he replied in Standard English. Half of his mind was convinced the other half was clearly insane; the other half was too busy laughing at its inherent cleverness. He was in that ship for far too long.

“Your language is not comprehensible. Halt your ship’s engines. You are not permitted...”

“I am seeking clearance to visit the Great Meteriarch of the Xandias Tribe. Tell Great Meteriarch Shai Sayenne that Zarkon Sayenne humbly requests a meeting with her,” he interrupted in the native tongue. ‘It will probably be at least an hour in Dhm time before I’m granted clearance. Heh, gives me plenty of time to gather my thoughts in order. ‘That would be best, since Shai can read minds.’ He knew that an “I told you so,” was waiting for him.

Zarkon grabbed a nutrient bar from the emergency food rations, and began to unwrap it. He looked at it, at the food compartment, then at the screen. “Here’s to bureaucracy...how I miss mine,” he said as he raised the bar in a toast. He then took a big bite out of it, and chewed slowly. ‘I wonder if I can finish this before the ass, uh, AOSS, gets back to me.’

He shrugged as he thought about Shai. It had been centuries in Drule time since they had first met. She had had so much in store for him. She had been so eager to integrate him into her world’s society, but then again, her being a halfling made her as much of an Apodian outcast as he was a Drule one. ‘I’m sure I hadn’t spent more than a decade before tiring of the racism. Or, was it the fact that I’d discovered that the Opachrian race was far closer to Apodians than I’d ever wanted that had finally chased me away?’

“And here I am, back again,” he said to himself, chewing away at the bar. Two bars later, flanked by Apodian guards at each side, he had been escorted into a Sapientydan ship. Any otherworldly ships could not withstand the planet’s immense gravity. Species outside of this world could not step foot without being crushed. Only those with dominant Apodian blood flowing through their veins could walk upon this world intact. None of his enemies could reach him here. This was his final bastion. This was the only place he could come for help and not be denied.

He felt the gravity the moment the escort ship entered Apodia’s atmosphere. It was several times more potent than Dhm’s, and took some adjusting on his part. He realized that his long, draping fabrics and his crown were not helping any. It required a good deal of tenacity to move as though it were effortless. He had grown accustomed to the weight quickly enough during his past visits. It would be the same now. ‘There’s no way I am going to walk around bare like my escorts, nor hint at my discomfort.’

The Sapientydan Apodians could be described at first glance as reptilian demons. They had two immense horns undulated about their heads with various and colorful skin tones were. It was obvious how certain areas of the body were darker than others. The left guard was various shades of red, while the right guard had dark green scales with a golden glaze atop them. Her neck held generous flaps of skin pleated neatly in the manner of a disciplined warrior. The concept of shameless nudity was still all the rage with purebreds: Zarkon was standing between two tall, female Apodians who had nothing on but a complicated sash of beads denoting their positions, ranks, family, and Clan lines, with intricate designs painted onto their limbs and torsos in lieu of clothing.

“If I hadn’t been around Hagar’s leathery face for so many years, I’d think you two were hot pieces of ass,” he mused in Drule.

“What’s he saying?” asked the Apodian to Zarkon’s left. The right guard rolled her eyes. He may not remember her, but she definitely remembered him. She especially recalled how often he was prone to saying things in different languages that no one else on the planet save Shai knew. It was a very annoying habit.

“I said how honored I am to be escorted by such powerful females as you,” he lied. This sophomoric game had kept his linguistic skills honed during his past stay. It also provided him with the evidence that Sapientydan ethnocentrism was alive and well, even in Shai’s domain.

He admired the clear, azure atmosphere, without a cloud in sight, indicating that the moons hovered on the other side of the planet. ‘That is an auspicious omen; I’ll be sane during the upcoming discussion. I’d probably appreciate the scenery even more if I wasn’t seeing all this through the glass overhead. No, wait, it’s not glass, it’s...’

“What do you call the compound above us that lets the light through?” he asked indirectly to either of the guards.

The guards were silent for several moments. The one on the right muttered, “Tyrillium” nearly a minute later. Zarkon nodded, and flashed a smile. She did not slow her pace, but was perturbed that Zarkon, this irritating male, was as tall as she was AND being obnoxious about it. She narrowed her eyes as she focused ahead, resisting the urge to strike him down.

It had been an unbearable temptation when she had first met him eight centuries ago. She had been assigned to guard him and accommodate him; his antics bordered on madness. Coupled with one too many snide remarks from him, and next thing she knew, she had screamed and lunged at him. He had sidestepped her, leaving his foot at a pivot so that she fell right into a headlock. Then, she had felt painful shocks traveling through her limbs. ‘I still wonder if Shai had not walked in, would my fate have been to be slain by this creature?’ She was ashamed to admit it, but considering the misery he had put her through, she felt he should have at least committed her name to memory.

They continued to walk through the familiar halls of the House of Sayenne, amidst vast pillars simple in design, but strong, supporting all who dwelled within. The colors were natural greens and deep blues. Golden accents were tastefully placed, showcasing the classical elegance of Xandias culture. Passing through vaguely familiar corridors, the reliefs and artwork depicting legends, myths, and victories of the Sapientydan society graced the walls at even intervals. Zarkon felt a chill creep down his spine as he suddenly remembered one disconcerting piece awaited his eyes at the end of this particular route. He caught a glimpse of the emerald-colored guard’s eyes, which returned a devilish gleam. They approached the end of the corridor, where it branched off into four possible routes. He could not help but regard the piece one more time.

It was a graphic, nasty depiction of the genocide of the Inalegans at the hands of the Sapientydos. Every horrific death imaginable was somewhere in that painting. In the past, it had always served as a warning to him, a warning similar to the one the Drules had taught him and all Duonulans and Opachrians: Hide what you are, because once we know the truth, you are dead. He had pretty much surmised when he had left Apodia years ago that some Inalegans had escaped the massacre and managed to journey to Planet Opachre, his homeworld. Then, the Drules conquered them. How ironic. He, a descendant of such beings, had conquered other races. ‘There’s some nice irony there as well,’ he thought smugly.

“Your face...only an Inalegan would react to this in such a way,” the green guard admonished, “and there are no Inalegans left, are there?” she sneered.

Zarkon laughed off the implied meaning. “I was just wondering if on the other half of the planet, some Arydican House has a similar picture, only with them killing the Inalegans.”

The guard stared dully at him. She knew he was not finished.

“Pssh, but to an outsider like me, snakes, lizards no debate, they all taste great deep-fried on my plate.” Zarkon had also taken great care to make it rhyme in Sapientydan as well.

The ruby guard’s mouth fell open. The green guard clenched her teeth and her fists. ‘Just one punch would satisfy me. One punch! With all of that extra weight, he can’t pull that trick again!’ Still, fearing Shai’s wrath stayed her muscles and gave her clarity.

Both guards regained their composure and maintained it long enough to lead Zarkon to a private chamber. It was often where he had shared his vagabond stories with Shai in the past, when they were younger, and the whole Universe seemed within their grasp. In the end, they were too much alike; neither would renounce their hard-earned positions in their respective societies to go with the other and into a lower one. Love was a nice feeling, but it did not fill the void of a Universe’s contempt. They had made a vow, before Zarkon left centuries before. It was not something insipid, like celibacy or never loving another. Both indulged in their desires without judgment from the other, and each promised that when the other came for help, nothing would be spared. When Zarkon had lost his elemental abilities after Grndm cursed him, it was Shai who had introduced him to Hagar to help him compensate. And now, after losing his entire Empire to the Alliance and Voltron, he was here once more to ask again. She had never asked one thing of him.

‘Perhaps there is something to the whole “female Apodians are superior” bit,’ he thought.

“Now, now, that’s just because I don’t set my goals so grandiose.”

“Well, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Shai?”

A graceful creature stepped out from an adjacent corridor. The blue fur adorning her body provided a stark contrast to the hairless creatures about her, as did the several beige robes and scarves she wore. Her agility and poise suggested they weighed no more than a feather on a small moon. Her facial features were distinctly feline, with deep indigo orbs for almond-shaped eyes. A blue crown of long, curled hair framed her face, though the pair of horns that emerged from her forehead and curled behind it in turn shadowed them. She was small compared to the guards, but anyone who knew of her prowess did not underestimate her.

Zarkon gasped. “You haven’t aged at all.” He then formed a small smile. “I guess you’ve perfected the spell, then.”

Shai walked over to him, replying only with a coy smile. She gestured to the chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable, and let us talk.” Zarkon obliged, and Shai quickly looked at the guards, who understood the command as a dismissal.

“Bye, Jepaya,” Zarkon said to the guard without even looking at her.

As Jepaya walked down the hall to return to her post with her sanguine partner, she snorted. ‘He does remember me after all.’

“That creature has some spunk, doesn’t he, Jepaya?”

Jepaya snapped her head towards the question in disbelief. “It is things like...like that,” she spat, gesturing to the room they had left, “That infuriate me so!” She was silent for a couple of moments. “What does she see in him that compels her to help him? I do not understand it.”

The ruby guard answered. “I think you do,” significance to her; now it provided some special information.

Jepaya smiled impishly at her partner. “Ecchai, and here I thought I was the only one.” Ecchai’s brows furrowed as they continued along without another word spoken.

Shai lowered herself comfortably into the other seat. “Getting reacquainted already, are we?” she asked him regarding his farewell to Jepaya.

“A little.”

“Would you like to bathe, dress in something clean?”

“Later, Shai.”

“How long have you worn your hair short?”

“Hair?”

Shai’s mouth grew into a wide smile. Her eyes glowed with an indigo haze as a hand mirror on a table far behind her flew into her left hand. It was of a metal that resembled silver, with Sapientydan etchings in a blue lapis. It was sparse in its accents, but the simplicity made it elegant. She turned its reflective side towards Zarkon to answer him.

He had ritually kept his head bald for so many years that he had nearly forgotten that he was actually capable of having a full head of hair. He had a white streak of hair that grew from his crest, while the rest of his hair was as black as dark matter. ‘I always assumed that by now I would have small patches of growth. Great, thanks Grndm, take away my elemental affinity but leave me with my dark locks!’ “I was definitely in that ship WAY too long.”

“Want to take me up on my offer now?” Shai nudged with a wink.

“The strands can wait,” he retorted.

“Very well then,” she conceded. She lowered the mirror face down into her lap as she began the spell. Both were silent, staring at each other, their faces expressionless. The wind began to howl outside, but then as quickly as it had sounded, the breeze was calm. They both smiled, and leaned back.

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy,” Shai said in response to the exchange. She looked away for a moment, and said chidingly, “but you’ve also made many mistakes.” She tapped her armrest with a sharp nail.

Zarkon’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “I haven’t had much to work with.”

Shai glanced at him. “Come come now, I practically handed you the most powerful Felinis shaman alive next to myself...”

“...Who ended up on my bad side.”

“...you duped her into thinking you’d marry her, and now, she’s passive-aggressive against you.”

Zarkon frowned. “I would never marry someone that bothersome, no matter how attractive she was...then.”

“Then why did you say it?”

He shrugged. “It was obvious she wanted to be a queen...the power, the influence...the perfect incentive...”

“The ends justified the means, is that it, Zarkon?”

“Finally, you’ve grasped the Dhmk concept. See why I love being their king?”

Shai leaned back, turning her gaze completely to him. “And the Passers’ proposition?”

“What of it?”

Her mouth curled up at the corner. “That can constitute treason, conspiring with Vajel’s lackeys…”

“First, they found me. Second, I refused and killed them. Third, Reyk already chided me years ago…” He then grinned innocently, “Trust me.”

“Perhaps I should just keep you here for myself then, there’s no reason for me to let you leave, and no reason for you, either.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight for all to see? A furry lizard gallivanting with a dried-up old fish...”

“Since when did you care what others think?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Since when didn’t you?” was his remark.

Both were quiet once again. At least a minute went by before Zarkon felt the tingle inside his head. “No more of that...” Zarkon growled.

“Well, you won’t tell me what you want, how else am I supposed to figure it out?” she said with a hint of exasperation, raising her arms to shrug.

“Revenge, Shai. There is no better sustenance. It kept me alive in the past, and it will keep me alive now.”

“Revenge...against who?”

“Everyone.”

Shai stood straight up. She turned, and walked away from Zarkon. She paced, glanced ahead through the window at the beautiful sky. She would not let him see her smile. It wasn’t a benevolent one. This was why she had let him leave. She knew he needed to learn alone. He did not belong with Hieyg refugees, or Dhmk, or Humans. They would never accept him, she had known that. She had seen the seed of bitterness when Reyk had first acquired him; after centuries, it had bloomed into a vicious ivy of destruction, sucking the life from anything and everything just for the sake of living itself. Once he was truly enlightened, he would renounce everything else, and help her restore the Shattered Tetrad. Only then could Vajel be defeated.

Zarkon cleared his throat, prompting Shai to look at him. She found that he was already regarding her, waiting. Shai glided over to him, and stood behind his chair. She leaned down ever so slightly. “There are many types of revenge. There’s a bloody one, which gives them some pain, but it is over far too quickly. Then, there’s the psychological revenge, which will linger like a cancer for years, eating them from the inside out.”

Zarkon grumbled. “And how would you handle such an ungrateful offspring as Lotor?”

Shai leaned in, and held her hand out, as though she were weighing the air on her blue fingertips, inches from his face. “I would not have tolerated it.” With that, she clenched her hand into a fist, squeezing the life out of an imaginary demon.

Zarkon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Though it had been very subtle, Shai noticed it. “Even if I couldn’t read your thoughts, I could still tell you care for him deeply,” she replied in a gentle croon.

He shifted his head, resting his chin on his left hand. His eyes were closed as he tried to block any further mind probes.

“He’s been waiting for me to die for years now.” He opened his eyes, as though he could see his voice in the air. “Everybody’s been expecting me to drop dead at a moment’s notice. But, if ANY of them think I will simply lie down and let them stomp me out of existence, I will show them. They will be the carrion rotting in the dust...”

With that statement, Zarkon held Shai’s clenched hand, and stood up. Her eyes shone with intelligence, empathy...and the inimitable gleam of bloodlust.

“The spell…will it work on me?”

“In time. It will require customization to your physiology, but yes, it will work once your unique traits have been accounted for,” Shai replied.

Zarkon turned around, and looked her straight in the eyes. “And I have come to you a third time for help...will you...”

Shai nodded.

“When this is done, when I have the blood of my enemies running through my fingers . . .when I have my son back . . .I will pledge my regained Empire as an ally to the Sapientydos, to the Xandias... to you…”

Their eyes glowed, Shai’s a deep azure, Zarkon’s a violet.

“Let us begin.”

Continued

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