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dwcmarshalarts · 3 years ago

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The ICC: A brief civics lesson

Given that today is Election Day in the United States, I thought it appropriate to do a brief rundown of the Interstellar Cooperation Circuit’s overall framework.

This’ll be a rare time where I’ll voluntarily lore dump like this. It isn’t that there isn’t lore to be spread, but that I just hate giving it all in a text dump instead of telling it organically.

Let’s go over.

OVERVIEW

The ICC, or Interstellar Cooperation Circuit is a supranational political federation between 32 member states. What it isn’t is a state in it of itself. Formed some time during the 22nd century originally as a purely economic arrangement between several major post-Earth star nations (originally named the Interstellar Trade and Commerce Circuit), the ICC developed into a formal political union over the course of a couple decades. Eventually this Federation started to acquire further domestic powers usually reserved to its member states. Broader jurisdiction over regulatory powers, standardization, increased cross-national projects such as infrastructure and the construction of the hyperlane highway system, are among the major reasons as to the gradual centralization of the ICC. The ICC, however, did not comprise all post-Earth star nations, and eventually in order to protect the Circuit from external threats, a move was made to create a federation-level military (The ICC Armed Forces). While certain member states could opt out and continue to maintain their domestic armed forces, the ICC Armed Forces would grow exponentially and in some cases supplant the local militaries entirely (as is the case in the largest and most powerful member state, the State of Greksil).

Overall, the ICC is a federation with almost three dozen member states, whose original economic focus was altered into a tighter and more centralized political union.

As an addendum, it is important to realize that the member states that comprised the original ITCC were the major descendants of old Earth, Western nations, with the post-American descendant being the State of Greksil, and the post-British descendant the Commonwealth of New Westminster being among the top most powerful nations in the ICC. While it’s relevant to go over cultural heritage, probably more important is the overall economic structures that bound the member states. All of these nations prioritized private and semi-regulated economic activity as the backbone of their economies, all of these nations to some degree practiced some form of economic exploitation of underdeveloped regions, and all of these nations had an effectively rigid system which hindered general economic mobility while ushering in massive profits for the well-to-do.

The ICC, by no means, is a star utopia, nor necessarily an improvement of real world economic conditions. Its legacy is a continuation of brutal imperialist hegemony, simply masked in the veneer of a commitment to liberty, while using an idealized version of the past to legitimize its cultural primacy over other star nations.

THE INNER WORKINGS

The ICC, as a federation, does not function the way a regular domestic state would. While, by the mid 24th century, the legal and cultural boundaries between each member state would exist largely as formalities, the ICC still put into place several stopgaps that still “technically” protected the sovereignty of each member state. This was represented in their three-pronged approach to the governance of the ICC. A Parliament would pass laws, a commission would enforce those laws and administer the Circuit, and a Council would check the power of an overstepping federation.

The Circuit Parliament What they are: The ICC Parliament is a unicameral legislature comprised of 1,200 seats, with proportional representation of each member-state on the basis of overall population. How they get appointment: The members of the ICC Parliament are elected every 5 galactic standard years, with every member state having districts in line with the number of seats they have in the Parliament. Candidates for CMP can run on any party ballot. Duties of the Parliament: After each election, CMPs are expected, as part of their duties, to pass laws on a whole host of issues, ranging from annual budgets, to economic regulation, to foreign aid, to special investigations, etc. Being directly elected by local populations, CMPs are also expected to be more directly tied to every day constituents, and are ostensibly meant to be the “people’s representatives.” CMPs form committees within the ICC Parliament to, on a more targeted basis, assess specific legislation, and are put on committees and boards based on seniority.

Who’s in charge: At the top of the Parliament are the elected officers, the head of which is the “President of the Parliament.” The President of the Parliament is more often than not the head of the party which controls the majority of the Circuit Parliament, or the head of the coalition of parties that head the government. As such, they can be considered the “Head of Government.” The Parliament President as such gets broad powers over setting the agenda and the passage of laws, and is responsible for getting support for legislation. What the Parliament President, as well as the Parliament itself, does not have power to do, is to affect the day to day administration of the ICC itself. There are no term limits.

In summary: In short, the Parliament merely comes up with and passes laws, in a multiparty unicameral legislature, elected directly by regular people in the Circuit. It does not enforce those laws.

So who does enforce Circuit laws?

The Circuit Commission What they are: The ICC Commission is a high-level board of administrators appointed by committees within the Circuit Parliament. The board includes chairpeople heading entire, Circuit-wide departments (such as for infrastructure, defence, foreign affairs, etc). How they get appointment: These individuals are not members of the Circuit Parliament themselves. While they may originate from the Parliament, they abrogate their seats upon appointment and become heads of the vast ICC Bureaucracy. Who’s in charge: At the head of the Commission is the Commission President. The Commission President administrates, oversees, and for all intents and purposes is in charge of the day-to-day running of the Circuit itself. They enforce the Circuit laws, they travel between Circuit member states to discuss cross-Circuit affairs. They travel or send delegations to foreign star nations and negotiate interstellar deals. They direct military prerogatives and security apparati. While the Commission President has more than several checks on power by, particularly the Council President (we’ll go over that later), the Commission President, as “head of state,” de facto ends up being the most powerful of the ICC heads. There is a 2 term limit to Commission Presidents, with elections being held every 5 years, offset by 2.5 years from the Parliamentary elections. They can be removed from office by 3/4 majority vote of the Circuit Parliament, or by unanimous action by the Commission board.

The Circuit Council What they are: As a vestige from the early, decentralized days of the ICC, the Circuit Council was formed as a means of checking the power of a central ICC government and enforcement agency. How they get appointment: The small, 128 seat (4 for each member state) Circuit Council gets its members via direct appointment from the member states. This means that each member state decides on their own terms how they want their Council members appointed, and entirely locally decides who they send. What they do: These local, member-state government appointed representatives then convene on the regular to oversee the administration of the Circuit Commission or advise the Circuit Parliament if any laws appear to threaten member state sovereignty. They also, every 10 years, elect a new Council President, the chief sovereignty consultant of the ICC. In practice: It’s been decades since the ICC has been hung up on member state sovereignty. As a result, the office of Council President, and the whole Council itself is more or less purely ceremonial. Given this state of affairs, the Council President more than anything spends their time promoting ICC culture, administering cross-Circuit festivals, advocating for local traditions, and serving as the “democratic chief-of-state,” a largely figurehead position that affords little effective power, and more an office of de jure cultural legitimacy. They, while at this point have little real power over the Commission, are the cheerleaders of cultural practices within the ICC.

THE POLITICS

This section will be comparatively brief. The ICC Parliament, unlike its previous American ancestor, and more like its European ancestors has a strong and vibrant multi-party system. As such, no one single party tends to control the entire ICC legislature. The Parties run on their specific platforms come election time, and the members of each party tend to be seen as less relevant than their actual party manifestos. The ICC has a diverse range of political expression within the context of a liberal democracy. Major parties include the left-wing Social Democrats and the right-wing Union Party. The parties in charge in Parliament, by the time of the Percivals story in the mid-late 24th century, are the centrist Liberal and Democratic Unity Party, in a coalition with the smaller center-right Conservative Party, led by Parliament President Marcus Aster. Their platform is largely status quo protection: strong central federation authority, low-to-moderate economic regulation, emphasis on private sector led economic growth, belligerent foreign policy, and protection of individuals (including protected minorities) within the framework of ICC guaranteed rights pursuant to their constitution.The Lib-Dem Unity led coalition is not particularly bent on reshaping the ICC in any direction, not wanting to shift rightward toward either more open markets or outright despotism, but also not budging leftward in their allegiance to private property, and only fulfilling certain basic social programs like retirement/disability pensions, and free social services for low-to-no income earners. Their main representative in the Commission is President Nikita Meyer, whose reputation as a tactful legislator during her Parliament days manifests in her now second administration as a smooth political operator. The daily affairs of the Circuit are smoothly run by her subordinates in the various ICC bureaus and departments, while her eyes focus on external matters, especially around the ICC’s southeast neighbor, the Advocati Star Order.

The Council is as apolitical as the branches get, with the members appointed often being civil servants or cultural figures themselves, as opposed to lifelong politicians or career bureaucrats.

#lore #percivals lore #dwc marshal arts #interstellar cooperation circuit #icc #dwc lore

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blackkatmagic · 4 years ago

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Hi kat am havjng a day but want ed to say i kog3 tou

Love you

*aggressively shows affection through filling your prompts*

“So where are you headed, soldier?” Lando asks cheerfully, starting up the engines as his fare warily and a little gingerly settles into the copilot’s seat. He doesn’t technically need to pick up a fare, because that sub-tropical moon isn't shabby where steady income is concerned, but old habits die hard, and fares between ports—particularly the less legal types of fares—tend to be interesting.

“I'm not a soldier,” the man who’s definitely some type of soldier says, setting his bag down on the floor behind his seat. It clinks, like metal, but Lando very determinedly doesn’t look at it. He knows how this works. “And I don’t suppose you enter Mandalorian space?”

Lando pauses, even as the permission from the control tower flashes across the Falcon’s readout. As far as denying he’s a soldier goes, asking to go to Mandalorian space makes an already thin line practically lacey. Mandalore’s neutral, and now that they're not trading with the Republic, most of the cities are starving. Lando's run food into Keldabe a few times, and seen just how bad it is.

“You sure that’s where you want to go?” he asks, wary. “It’s a big galaxy out there. Even if we just count the parts that aren’t fighting a civil war.”

The man, older and handsome—because Lando's a smuggler but he’s not stupid, and if he’s going to have to look at a fare for a week or two he’s going to pick fares that make it enjoyable—doesn’t so much as glance over. “Is there something wrong with Mandalorian space?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, maybe a little dry. “It’s run by New Mandalorians.”

The man takes a breath like he’s pained, closes his eyes. “Not all of it,” he says curtly. “Concord Dawn. That’s where I need to go.”

Well. That will make it slightly easier than trying to get into one of the bio-dome cities. Lando's not quite blond enough to go unnoticed. “Sure,” he says, though he doesn’t quite turn his attention back to the sky. The Falcon is a smart girl. She’s got it handled. “You do know there are at least three blockades between here and there, right?”

“I'm happy to add more to your price for the trouble,” the man says, just a little tight. Lando can see the way his hand curls around the arm of the chair, white-knuckled. “I just need to get home.”

Well. It’s not like Lando can argue with that. “Like I said. I’ll fly you wherever you need to go. But without papers, it’s going to take some creative maneuvering to get us that deep into the Outer Rim.”

For the first time since Lando's contact introduced them, the man turns and looks at Lando full-on, and it’s enough to make Lando swallow down the joke he was about to make. The man looks angry, in a way that the white-knuckled grip can only hint at. Furious, almost, and deadly with it.

Not a soldier. Right. Lando would believe his own father was a dancing girl on Tatooine before he believed that.

“Fortunate for me, then, that your cleverness comes highly acclaimed,” the man says, and it’s only cool if Lando ignores the look in his eyes entirely.

It takes a long moment to regather his words, but finally Lando offers the man a smile that’s as charming as he can make it and says, “Everything you’ve heard about me is true, I promise. Well. All of the good things, at least.”

He throws in a wink for good measure, and that, at least, makes a little of the man’s tight fury crack. His mouth curves, and he snorts, then leans back in his chair and props a boot up—not on the console, Lando notes, but in the curve of the wall beside it. That alone is enough to make Lando like him a little more. “Your friend told me more than enough. How long?”

Lando calculates the fastest hyperlanes, hesitates, and then tries to remember which ones have pirates or blockades, and grimaces. “Hope you're not in a rush. I know it’s normally a week’s trip, but with the war, it might be closer to three. I'm going to have to jump around a hell of a lot, and the Falcon’s solid, but she’s not quite a Nubian cruiser.”

Something like pain slides over the man’s face, but after a long moment, he inclines his head. “I’ve waited thirty years, I can wait three more weeks on top of that.”

Thirty years to go home. Lando glances back at the readouts, and—he can probably shave a few days off if he risks Hondo's territory. Hondo's not entirely unreasonable. Usually. “Concord Dawn it is, then. Strap in.”

“Thank you,” the man says quietly, and Lando casts him a smile as he throws them into hyperspace.

“Do I get to know your name?” he asks. “Or should I just make up something to call you?”

“I feel like that would go very badly for me,” the man says, just a little dry. He rubs a hand over his face, the faint scruff of a beard that Lando is very interested in, and then says, “Call me Jaster.”

#an architecture of bones #my writing #jasterlando #jaster mereel #lando clarissian #star wars

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hedefect · 3 months ago

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there's something ecstatic in the air — it hums around finn, sets the hair on his arms alight. it's a tangible joy, one that tastes ... well, weirdly enough, an expansive orange. it's a wide hole, something soft and sweet at the bottom, a guaranteed promise of good. the people around him are celebrating. finn has no idea what for.

he's there for information, of course. first order forces floating around the inner rim territories, lurking in the hyperlanes of the colonies. that's all they were doing, haunting the trade routes, no confirmed interferences. general organa was suspicious, and finn, once told, was as well. the first order, despite it's horribly impressive resume, wasn't actually known for it's patience, so to be sitting and waiting ... the general consensus is that no one wanted to wait for whatever was coming.

thus — finn's presence on birren. general organa's influence happened to run deep on the planet, which leads to a whispered and frantic conversation a mere minute before the knight of ren entered the cantina.

the music kept playing, something dim but upbeat, while everyone turned to glare. technically, the inner planets were declared protected areas during the war, and his presence was a direct violation — then again, so was finn's. he sits there for a moment, doesn't really listen to the modulator. there's a small chance of escape, if finn doesn't mind the possibility of others dying for him.

he stands up, clears his throat. finn really does mind others dying for him.

hand on his blaster, shifting his way through the crowd, finn doesn't bother to keep room between himself and the knight. he brushes up close, more force than necessary, and steps out into the night. clears his throat once more.

tentatively, finn reaches out with that extra sense, gently probing the space around the knight of ren, trying to taste the mood. it's an unpolished skill, one he's never cared much about until now. ❛ hard to defect from a side i never signed up for. ❜

from outside, ilyas can hear the celebratory shouts. the cantina is small, but filled to the brim with people of all kinds. they laugh, they carry on. joyous. the excitement brings a smile to his lips beneath his helmet – and for a moment he's grateful his brethren had remained aboard the buzzard. he lingers at the entrance, just out of view of the patrons inside. basking in their happiness – their joy. finally, heaving a sigh, he pushes open the doors and steps inside. a small sound of disgust tumbling from his lips as boots stick to the floor. it wasn't a clean cantina, but it appeared to be the most popular one around.

the sounds of joy stumble to a halt as everyone turns to glare at him. he wasn't large, very unthreatening on his own. but everyone knew what his helmet meant. a knight of ren was among them – and where there's one, there's more. weapon vibrates ominously in his hand – a reminder of his purpose here. ❝ i'm looking for a defector. ❞ he speaks loudly, his voice distorted by the modulator in his helmet. ❝ goes by … @liberaetor ? ❞ gaze drags over the crowd, searching for the one he was meant to find. ❝ was told i could find him here. ❞

#g0dteeth #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ * 𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴. 〈 INTERACTIONS. ◝#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ * 𝙰 𝚂𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙺 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺. 〈 SEQUELS. ◝#very very excited for this one hehehe

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pontsalin · 3 years ago

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I heard Space Au and i came running here are some ideas

Shrub is from a planet very far away from the Empires System and when it was attacked by Xornoth she escaped via a ship and ended up being sucked into a wormhole which is how she ended up in Empires

The Empires System has more than 12 planets but only the ones with an Empire on them are inhabitable/terraformed. Some of the others are claimed by different Empires or shared amongst all of them, like the Nether and the End

The Undergrove was a terraforming project started by The Overgrown but was abandoned when the wildlife grew too hostile. Shrub, as one of the only sentients on the planet and a member of a species able to communicate with nature and the locals, is technically the leader but she sees herself as more of a diplomat/representative of the locals.

Spawn is a space station where the rulers of the Empires meet up to discuss politics.

fWhip is the ruler most involved with hyperlane tech and focuses a lot on getting better transportation between the planets.

Gem and fWhip both specialize in tech but in different fields. fWhip with transportation type tech and Gem in shielding type tech. Both work on weapons tech on the side, Gem makes very good blasters. Their planets are actually orbiting each other as well as the system's sun and thus their empires have a close relation.

ok brain tired but if you wanna chat more about space au plz lemme know i love this

Please please that's so good omg

I wanted fWhip to not have a planet but I love the gem and fwhip's planet orbiting thing so much actually

#I do would love to chat about that but it's late so im not sure how receiptive I would be today djcjc

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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cuuno-moved · 3 years ago

Note

Ok so Sol @/pontsalin mentioned that there was a lack of empires aus and mentioned a space au and my brain took it and latched with it. I'll send you the ask i sent him

Shrub is from a planet very far away from the Empires System and when it was attacked by Xornoth she escaped via a ship and ended up being sucked into a wormhole which is how she ended up in Empires

Spawn is a space station where the rulers of the Empires meet up to discuss politics.

fWhip is the ruler most involved with hyperlane tech and focuses a lot on getting better transportation between the planets.

We're probably changing it so that fWhip's planet is actually a manmade one that orbits Gem's and Scott might also get an artificial planet idk yet

Sol went to sleep but soon we're gonna talk bout alien biology and culture and stuff prob tomorrow i really like this au

Alien Shrub is pangolin based that is all

YEAHHHHYEHAYRAYHEHA

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queen-scribbles · 6 years ago

Text

Homecoming

This is technically, TECHNICALLY sfw, but it does skate closer than I usually go to, yknow, the other thing. A lot closer. :3 Set right after the Trooper endgame

---

She was beginning to wonder if the smoke smell would ever come out of her hair.

Briyoni stepped out of her third almost-scalding hot shower and growled at the still faintly clinging odor. She had a nice permanent memento of the battle for Corellia, she didn’t need to reek of smoke forever, too. At least attempting to get the smell out made a nice excuse to repeatedly visit the first real showers she’d had access to in months. Bry ran her fingers through her hair to squeeze out the excess water before drying off. And they were heading back to Coruscant today, so after reporting to Garza, she could go home and stand in her own shower until the hot water ran out if she so desired.

“And I probably will,” she muttered to herself as she dressed--gingerly, thanks to a few lingering sore spots. That was honestly the single most tempting thought in the galaxy. Fortunately, Corellia to Coruscant, plus time to meet with Garza and wrap up any official business would only delay about a day.

Bry got her gear together, met the rest of Havoc at the spaceport, and had her ship burning hyperlanes before the morning was half over. She was looking forward to some downtime.

---

She was looking forward to that downtime even more after reporting to Garza turned into a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor.

Lucky I wore my good armor, Bry thought sardonically as Havoc followed Garza to the Chancellor’s office. Fortunately it wasn’t a long meeting, though still long enough to have her wanting a stiff drink. Or maybe that was simply due to Chancellor Saresh’s disappointment they hadn’t captured Rakton alive to use in trade for POWs. Stars, was it hard to even sort of swallow her retort to that. Either way, Bry was more than happy to bid farewell to the Senate Tower for the next month or so of leave. She tossed cursory farewells to the others and bolted for the speeder stand, thoughts already on the tantalizingly close hot shower and maybe a nice glass of juma juice.

Her plans were derailed in the best way possible, however, the second she opened her apartment door.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Jonas grinned from his slouched seat on her couch.

“That was gonna be my line,” Bry shot back, grin of her own spreading as she dropped her bag. Looking around, he’d clearly been waiting at least long enough to settle in; jacket tossed over the back of a chair, boots kicked off, and sleeves pushed up. “Should I go with ‘Honey, I’m home’ instead?”

He laughed. “Go with whatever the hell you like, Bry, I’m just happy to see you.”

“Likewise. I thought you were s’pposed to be working. Don’t get up” --she held out one hand--”I’m comin’ to you.”

Jonas heeded the advice, relaxing back into the couch as she crossed to sit next to him. He half-turned to be facing her and rested one arm along the back of the couch. “So, you’re happy to be home, I’m guessing? Just... off the top of my head.”

She snorted a laugh and scooted closer. “Smart man.”

“You’ll find I’m more than a pretty face, Major,” he teased.

Bry grinned mischievously and bit her bottom lip. Wonder how far we can take this game... “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonas drawled, eyes gleaming with matching mischief as he started running his fingers in lazy trails up and down her arm. “I’m also a really good kisser.”

So that’s how we’re playing this, huh? She leaned in closer and whispered, “Prove it.”

His hand, which had been on a slow trail up her arm, completed its journey and cupped her jaw as he obliged. After just the right interval to give her a taste but also leave her wanting more, he pulled back. Just far enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers and his thumb rubbing against her cheek as he murmured, “Welcome home, hero.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Please don’t. I got enough of that hero pfassk from the higher ups.”

“Well, then,” Jonas leaned forward ever so slightly into their contact, “any special requests?”

“Just kiss me like that again,” Bry murmured back, wriggling out of her jacket.

“I can do that,” he chuckled quietly as he pulled her back in.

This kiss lingered and deepened, Bry’s hands sliding into Jonas’ hair as he braced against the back of the couch. She couldn’t completely swallow a small needy moan, which got another quiet chuckle out of him.

“You smell like smoke,” he mumbled, sounding more amused than bothered by the fact, a rough edge creeping into his voice.

She snorted, carding her fingers through his hair. “That’ll happen when you run around a warzone industrial planet for three days. You’re lucky I had time to take real showers b’fore getting home, or it would be worse.”

“Thank the stars, then,” Jonas grinned.

Bry rolled her eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder so he sat back. “Here’s a question for you,” she began as she shifted to follow, settling in straddled across his lap. “How come we almost always do this” --she dipped her head to steal a quick kiss, hands coming to rest on his shoulders--”here?”

He laughed, playful glint in his eyes as his hands settled on her hips. “Your couch is more comfortable than mine.”

As someone who had fallen asleep on both, she did have to concede that point. “Mm-hm.” One hand started to slide in toward his unbuttoned shirt collar, fingers ghosting along his collarbone.

His breath hitched, voice decidedly rougher even as he aimed to stay lighthearted. “Also, a few of my contacts know where I live. For emergencies. So the odds..” he caught a sharp breath as she lightly raked her nails against his chest, and she watched with a mischievous smile as he swallowed hard before continuing, “...the odds of interruption are higher....”

“As good a set of reasons as anY--” her voice pitched high and she instinctively curled toward him as his hands edged under the hem of her shirt in retaliation.

Jonas chuckled and pressed a kiss behind her ear as her forehead rested against his shoulder. “All’s fair-”

She kissed him to shut him up, felt him laugh into it, swallowed the quiet groan that followed, hummed in pleasure herself as his hands trailed their way up her sides.

And then he froze as his fingertips brushed the skin just below the edge of her bra.

Bry stilled as well, wincing internally. Aaand he found it...

Jonas broke the kiss, playful mischief vanished into concern, as he more deliberately traced the line of scar tissue. “Bry?” His brow furrowed as it kept going, wrapping around from her side toward the center of her chest. Under slightly different circumstances, the touch might’ve been erotic, but the worry plain on his face dismissed that possibility. “Where’d this come from?”

She sighed and aimed for a lighthearted tone as her hands curled against the back of his neck. “A souvenir from Corellia.” She ran her fingers through his hair as he reached the origin of the scar, dead-center over her sternum. “Didja think retaking the Bastion was easy, darling?”

He actually flinched a little at the endearment, gaze fixed on where his hand had stopped even though her shirt was in the way. “Bry.”

“Jonas.” She cupped his jaw with one hand and tilted his chin up to make him meet her gaze. “It was just an Imperial grunt with a vibroshiv.”

He snorted, expression easing slightly, though worry lingered in his eyes. “You say that like I don’t know what you can do with a vibroshiv.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bry assured him. Anymore, she added mentally as she peeled off her shirt so he could see for himself.

Jonas followed the line of the scar with his eyes, darker green against her skin, as his fingers traced back toward where he’d initially found it. “Not that bad,” he muttered in disbelief.

“Not as bad as it was intended to be, then,” she amended, then winced at the look on his face as the implications of that paired with where it started hit him. “Jonas. Jonas.” She tipped his chin up and kissed him softly as she promised, “I’m fine.”

Jonas let out a shuddery breath that was maybe intended as a laugh as his fingers traced lightly back and forth over the scar’s path. “Haven’t you ever heard of armor, gorgeous?”

“It gets in the way,” she said, only half-joking. And it didn’t help.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yes, of incoming damage, that’s the point.”

“And also of my preferred fighting style,” Bry countered. “The faster I kill things, the less chance they have to do damage in the first place.”

“Fair,” Jonas conceded reluctantly. “Still...”

“I’m still fine,” she reiterated.

Jonas held her gaze for a moment, then looked down at the scar again before planting a deliberate kiss on the origin point. He rested his forehead against hers and gave her a smirk that was almost pure challenge.”Prove it.”

Bry laughed, slightly shaky with relief he’d let it go with relative ease. “If you’re hinting the way I think you are....” she wove her fingers into his hair, and her voice dropped to a rough whisper, “...we’re wearing way too many clothes.”

He closed the gap for a kiss before whispering back, just as rough, “That’s easily remedied, y’know.”

And it was.

---

“So,” Bry panted, resting her chin on his chest and biting her lower lip around a very satisfied grin, “Convinced?”

Jonas let out a breathless laugh, one arm loosely wrapped around her and fingers tracing random patterns on her shoulder blade.”Pretty thoroughly, yeah.”

She snickered and wiggled higher to steal a kiss, bracing one hand against the mattress when it lasted longer than anticipated. “Mm, gotta say, Balkar, if this” --she ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair--”is gonna be the reaction to me getting injured like this...” another kiss, then one in quick succession pressed to his jawline. “maybe I’ll stopped tryin’ so hard to avoid it.”

His hand, which had been sliding up her arm, froze near her elbow, and Jonas actually sat up. By nature of proximity, Bry went with him, the sheets pooling around them.

“Please don’t,” he said, all trace of his usual humor and charm absent from his voice.

“Jonas...” She reached to rest one hand on his shoulder. “I was just joking, handsome.”

He took her hand and tugged her closer so he could kiss her temple. “Don’t, Briyoni.”

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, running her fingers back and forth along his collarbone. “I have no intention of letting some moof-milker do me in any time soon. I’ve got a war to win and a charming, ruggedly handsome SIS agent to marry, unfortunately in that order.”

Jonas chuckled, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “Big plans.”

“I’m that kind of girl,” she said breezily, which got an actual laugh.

“You certainly are,” he agreed, and kissed her temple again. “You also still smell like smoke.”

“And we both smell like sweat now on top of that,” Bry countered. “With that in mind...” she pulled back enough he could see her impish grin, “what would you say if I told you my initial plan--before being so thoroughly and wonderfully sidetracked--was to take a nice, hot shower?”

Jonas grinned and followed as she shimmied toward the edge of the bed. “I’d ask if you want company.”

“Depends,” she said coyly as her feet hit the floor. She turned to face him, fingers gently combing hair back from his forehead. “If you’re the one offering, then absolutely.” She kissed his forehead, then tangled her hands in his to pull him to his feet.

But he resisted, and instead pulled her back into bed, roughly toward the pillows.

“Jonas, this is the wrong direc-!”

He cut off her protest with a kiss, a good, deep one. “Bry?”

“Mm?” she mumbled through the heady daze of that kiss.

“Welcome home.”

It was, she had to admit, one of the better homecomings she’d had. Maybe it was alright if she smelled like smoke for a few more minutes.

(for anyone wondering, yes, yes Bry is majorly downplaying how badly she got hurt to leave that scar. he’s worried enough as it is.)

#queens fic #briyoni nerai #jonas balkar #brykar #otp: better company #swtor #lord these two

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magnetarbeam · 2 years ago

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I'm thinking again about the Jedi leaving the Galactic Alliance at the end of FotJ, and how it's implied that they're making up for the loss of the potential GA resources while remaining politically autonomous as an Order by taking advantage of Tenel Ka's sympathies for the Jedi. Shedu Maad is right there in the Mists, and in the random short story of Jaina and Jag's honeymoon they mention that their doubles had to take their place in negotiations on Hapes so they'd have a few days to spare for it.

I still maintain that the Jedi serve their purpose best if the Order as an institution isn't under the authority of any centralized government (though I don't think they should be above the law as individuals) but the relationship to the Hapans here is its own can of worms.

I haven't read Courtship or whatever, and I've learned my lesson about what happens if I trust Wookieepedia or YouTube for this stuff, but didn't the Hapans originally have some kind of longstanding cultural grudge against the Jedi? Something to do with the pirate group that evolved into the Consortium having been beaten a few thousand years ago by the Jedi? I don't know exactly what the deal was there, but in any case I can see how the Jedi might have improved their reputation among the inhabitants of the Hapes Cluster in the post-Endor period, especially since the final battle of the Second Galactic Civil War was also legitimately an Alliance invasion of the Consortium. Even that can't have changed everyone's minds, though.

Also, like. Hapes is a pretty fucked-up place. Tenel Ka's a monarch, so her opinions and sympathies carry a lot more weight than they would if they were held by the Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance. Sometimes it seems like assassination is the default way for Hapan nobles to disagree with each other, and there's also the heavily institutionalized sex discrimination. I think she's doing the best she can within the system, but the system has problems.

The issue is: Should the Jedi make some kind of effort to change any of that system? How much opposition does Tenel Ka get just because of the Hapan grudge against the Jedi, at first because she's a former Jedi and then because she's giving them a planet that's technically in the Consortium? If she regularly had other Jedi operating openly in the core of their territory, would that make that worse? Is Tenel Ka making life some value of better for the average citizen of the Consortium, enough that the Jedi can believe she's satisfactorily aligned with their goals? Do some of the nobles think of her as a puppet for the Jedi?

I have SO MANY QUESTIONS.

In any case, I'm sure the resources the Jedi would ask for are barely a rounding error compared to the economic capacity required for the Hapans to contribute twenty percent of the Galactic Alliance's navy, on top of their home fleet, in LotF.

The inability of the rest of the galaxy to find Shedu Maad, hidden as it is from sensors in the Transitory Mists, won't help if a hostile Hapan faction thinks it can get away with attacking the Jedi. They have to know how to navigate the Mists much better than any other group. I'm sure the planet itself is heavily fortified, at least in terms of multiple layers of full-coverage planetary shields, local shielding for the temple itself, and dozens or hundreds of surface-based anti-orbital cannons, the entire thing powered by multiple battleship-scale reactors.

It being located in the Transitory Mists also means it's cut off from all forms of interstellar communication, which is helpful for neutralizing a homing beacon, but not really good for receiving requests for the assistance of the Jedi. I have to assume there are holonet relays outside the Mists that send point-to-point signals along the hyperlanes that lead to the Maad system, or something like that.

#star wars legends #fate of the jedi #tenel ka djo

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chubbyooo · 6 years ago

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Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 53 - Plans That Go Wrong

we’re back bois with another chapter returning to our favourite rouges

Ash and Gacen start the search for Risha starting at Dantooine

Gacen brought the ship down into the Dantooine spaceport, it was surprisingly big which meant the security would probably be better than expected. He had been hoping to just hack into the cameras and maybe spot Risha or Guss at one of the hangers but that’d take hours at this rate. He sighed taking a small swig of booze and headed to see Ash, when he found her she was equipped with almost every form of weapon Gacen could think of.

Ash stood up when he came in “ah Gacen we ready to go?” Gacen squinted was that a sniper rifle on her back?

Gacen frowned “uh what is with all this gear Ash” Ash looked to her extensive collection of weapons

Ash seemed confused “this is a recon mission right? I made sure to tone it down” Gacen was bewildered these would’ve been helpful like 8 other times were they just not technically missions?

Gacen stifled a laugh “this is toning it down, Ash we’re just gonna find out where the ship went next” Ash seemed to ponder the question

Ash conceded “yeah I dunno it just felt like a proper mission so I geared up the same way by routine I guess” that made sense at least, Gacen had been like that a few times after getting out of prison. “I guess I can put the sniper rifle back” Gacen nodded very intently it didn’t exactly look discrete

Gacen smiled “that’s probably for the best” Ash put it back switching it out for a large blaster rifle, Gacen sighed probably best not to argue.

Ash folded her arms “so what’s the plan?” Gacen stroked his chin that was a good question

“uhhhh well find out which hanger they were in, hope it isn’t redacted and then maybe find out which hyperlane they took” it wasn’t exactly the best plan but it was all they got

Ash didn’t look impressed “well I guess we have to find their control room then since we don’t have a slicer” Gacen nodded ok cool Ash was taking charge “any idea where that is?” Gacen thought about it opening a datapad he could see a few restricted areas on the map.

Gacen sighed this was a terrible plan “uh we can check the restricted areas” Ash sighed clearly unimpressed with his lack of plan

Ash nodded “alright well it shouldn’t be too hard to find” Ash walked out and Gacen followed unsure of if she was so over-prepared with the state of their plan. Soon they identified the control room catching a glimpse of the room as someone left, to their surprise there was only one guard outside Gacen couldn’t help but wonder if they were understaffed if so what luck for them.

Gacen whispered “ok so there’s no one in there we just need to distract the guard” Ash nodded lifting up her blaster, Gacen’s eyes widened quickly pushing the blaster back down “no! we are gonna distract him that is way too suspicious” Ash grumbled putting her blaster away

“I wasn’t gonna kill him I was just gonna stun him” Gacen sighed in no way was that better for their situation

Gacen stared at the guard “we just gotta pinpoint some weakness” Gacen tried to get a fix on anything he could use to charm the guy

Ash spoke up “25-35, hairline seems to be receding looks like tis due to the stress of his new baby that and the deathstick leftovers on his jacket” Gacen’s eyes widened he didn’t notice any of that

“how did you do that?” Ash frowned at him confused

Ash looked back to the guard “it’s right there, the faded sick stain on his armour as I said shavings of what was once a deathstick on his shoulder and judging by build, face composition and hair he’s 25-35″ Gacen’s head was spinning how did she identify that all so quickly

It didn’t matter he could work with that “I’m gonna distract him you get inside” Ash nodded quickly disappearing form his vision. Ok Gacen here we go you still got the charm you’re a little rusty but still got it you can do this.

Gacen took a deep breath and made his way over to the guard leaning against the wall “ugh my god I am about ready to pass out after all those boxes” the guard looked over to him frowning had he done it wrong “I’m a ship captain and i desperately need to hire someone to haul the boxes or my back is gonna give out, my name is Gacen by the way Gacen... uh Drayen” Gacen’s eyes widened where the hell did that come from.

The guard smiled “Jersha nice to meet you, uh this area is restricted past this door so uh don’t go in it” Gacen nodded making sure to keep an eye out for Ash

Gacen got out a deathstick he had for just this sort of occasion and lit it “oh don’t worry man I wouldn’t jeopardise my delivery schedule” he didn’t personally care for deathsticks but duty called. Jersha started looking toward it “uh you want one dude” Jersha was still looking forward he had to distract him more

Jersha shook his head “no no no I’m trying to quit” damn it he couldn’t push that he’d be such a dick

Gacen had to try another angle “huh you got a reason or just trying to get off them” Gacen felt a little weird talking about addiction, Ash and him had had too many alcoholic talks lately.

Jersha smiled “well actually I’m trying to quit because of my son was born a few weeks ago” Gacen nodded putting out his deathstick no need continuing now it had served it’s purpose

Gacen smiled “congratulations man I bet he’s wonderful” Gacen had an in here this could work

Jersha nodded turning to Gacen “would you liked to see a holo” yessss he was that type of dad.

Gacen nodded “yes I’d love to” as Jersha fumbled with his holo Gacen saw Ash sneak into the control room perfect now he just had to keep Jersha’s interest. Jersha showed him the baby who was admittedly very cute “man he’s got your eyes” Jersha smiled putting the holo away

Jersha turned to Gacen “you got someone in your life Gacen” the question caught Gacen off guard he didn’t quite know how to answer

Gacen stammered “uh yeah” he paused “well I did, I haven’t seen her in years so I don’t really know anymore” Jersha looked away awkwardly

“uh sorry I didn’t know that was a sore subject” Gacen sighed maybe he wasn’t ready for charming man again it was all too much

Gacen paused for a second “no it’s ok to be honest it’s looking up” as he spoke he saw Ash come back out thank the force, this conversation was getting awkward “I uh should get back to my ship but uh nice chatting to you”

Jersha nodded “nice talking to you Drayen I hope it all works out” Gacen quickly walked back over to where Ash had hidden.

Ash stood waiting there looking calm as ever “Ok so good news and bad news, the good news is I found the hanger but bad news is they were just here to refuel so no extra info on where they went next” Gacen frowned not another dead end “but I did find out where they keep the hyperlane routes ships take” Gacen couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t gonna like this

later...

Gacen sulked halfway into a vent “why do I have to go in the vent you’re the special ops trooper havoc squad commander or whatever, you’re used to this kind of stuff” to get into the database it turned out that they had to go through a specific route in the vents to avoid detection. The only other route would be a suicide mission so the vents it was and apparently he had to do it.

Ash glared at him “as I keep telling you you’re skinny and limber so will be able to actually fit inside this vent I’m too uh ya know built” oh yeah built sure

Gacen continued to sulk as he slid into the vent “you’re thick Ash it’s nothing to be ashamed of” he saw Ash’s glare intensify as he exited her vision grinning. The vents were long and winding but Gacen had to admit due to his skinnyness this was rather easy, he was making quick progress. Ash gave him directions as he went and about halfway through he got his foot stuck in a vent “Ashhhhh I’m stuck, my foots stuck” what was he gonna do he couldn’t lose the boot.

Ash responded quickly ‘wriggle out of your boot then, we don’t have time for this” Gacen gasped that was unthinkable he needed it for the outfit

Gacen frowned “what are you kidding the boots tie the whole outfit together” Gacen tried to tug his boot out of the vent but it was real stuck in there.

Ash seemed agitated when she responded “well it’s either leave the boot or get blasted with hot air very soon” Gacen’s eyes went wide he did not want that

Gacen decided he didn’t want to be stuck here forever getting blasted with heat “fine I’ll leave it but you’re paying for a new one” he pulled his foot out of his foot and kept going.

Soon enough he had reached the location of the database, he looked in the room he could see three guys at the console that seemed engaged with their jobs, all he had to do was open the vent carefully and quietly. He made sure to take the vent off the wall carefully delicately putting it next to him he then just had to inch down slowly, suddenly he felt his leg drop as his grip slipped he tumbled to the floor landing behind the men. He looked up sprawled across the floor as the guys looked at him, oh dear he had to deal with this before they caught him but they basically already had. He fumbled in his coat finding a canister, he put his coat over his face and let it off, Gacen watched as gas filled the room causing the men to fall unconscious. Gacen waited for the gas to dissipate getting up and looking for the route, as he was about to start however an alarm sounded oh no he had to hurry this had gone so wrong. Gacen quickly looked for the ship Risha and Guss where supposed to be on and sure enough found the route they were on, the ship had headed further into the outer rim towards the edge wow she really was hiding out. Ok information got now Gacen had to just jump back into the vent, he did his best to scramble back up to the vent but before he felt himself slip back down into the base of the room.

Suddenly the doors opened and Gacen was tackled to the ground “oh no Ash help I got busted he-” Gacen’s mouth was covered before he could say any more oh dear this was bad at least he knew where Risha had gone but now he was gonna go to prison again just his luck...

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darthkvznblogs · 6 years ago

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I wrote a Voltron: Legendary Defender X Steven Universe oneshot!

It was supposed to be, like, a 1k word cute little blurb, but it ended up at over 5k because I have absolutely no self-control. Also posted over at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733932

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13203652/1/Close-Encounters-of-the-Gem-Kind

Also, this is technically part of a larger gamut of crossovers, but this isn’t really connected to those, so feel free to enjoy this on its own!

It’s kind of funny, how much of a backwater the Milky Way is considered to be. Pidge likes to think so, at least - how many humans throughout history have proclaimed Earth to be the center of the universe? It couldn’t be further from the truth, of course, but that certainly didn’t stop them.

The reality is that galactic civilization is practically nonexistent around these parts. There’s nothing like the ancient Alteans, and certainly not like the universe-spanning Galra Empire here, and it shows; the Milky Way lacks any kind of hub worlds, or even designated hyperlanes. It’s the Wild West out here - or, more accurately, the galactic equivalent of an empty Denny’s parking lot at two a.m.

Still, it’s nice to almost be home again. She didn’t expect to be headed back so soon - heck, part of her didn’t expect to return to Earth at all - but it seems Allura found herself a heart, and is allowing the Paladins of Voltron a brief, week-long window before they really take the fight to the Galra for them to let their families know they’re, y’know, still alive.

For how much longer, Pidge has no idea. They’re Public Enemy No. 1, but like, on an intergalactic level. That certainly doesn’t bode well for their continued well-being.

In any case, they’re a few thousand light years out - they’re doing short jumps, so as to avoid leading the Galra back to Earth - when they catch an urgent sounding alien communication, one that makes Allura frown, and summon the other Paladins to the bridge.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” -Shiro asks once he gets there, all armored up - first as always, if not for the fact that Pidge was already there, analyzing star maps with Princess Allura - confused at her expression.

“The Castle’s short range sensors have picked up what appears to be a repeating distress signal. The language is...familiar, but I can’t quite place it.” -she admits.

Shiro crosses his arms. “Familiar how?”

“Yeah, we’re super far away from ancient Altean space.” -Pidge points out.

“Altean civilization became space-faring almost a hundred-thousand years ago. We explored most of the universe.” -she says, as if it should be obvious. “We may not have colonized much, but we did visit.”

Pidge deals with this mind-boggling fact the same way she deals with most things regarding Altea or the Galra. “...oh.”

Allura looks smug, but only for a second, because Coran pipes up after only absently following their conversation. “Oh! That’s Gem code, Princess.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “‘Gem’ code?” -she asks, on the verge of recognition.

“Yes! I guess it makes sense that they’d still be around.” -he says, eager. “Gems are inorganic life forms - they don’t eat, sleep, or drink, so they are effectively immortal. They were one of the last intelligent species we discovered before the war.”

The Princess snaps her fingers - a gesture picked up from Pidge herself. “That’s right! I remember my father leaving to meet with their diplomats.”

Shiro interrupts the nostalgia train. “Then let’s take a detour and see if we can help them out. Earth can wait just a little longer.”

Allura doesn’t seem like she appreciates the commanding tone, but she clearly agrees, immediately bringing up the Castle’s controls. “Generating wormhole now.”

Lance, Keith, and Hunk come together into the bridge as the starship accelerates into the rift. Seconds later, they re-enter realspace, only to find themselves staring at an ongoing space battle some two thousand kilometers in the distance.

“Well, that can’t be good.” -Lance says, helmet under his arm. He doesn’t sound particularly worried.

“What the hell are the Galra doing so close to Earth again?” -Keith asks, crossing his arms. He, in turn, does. Angry-worried, at any rate.

Lance cringes. Pidge is fairly certain he didn’t put two and two together. “Oh, yeah, that too.”

Allura immediately takes command. “Coran, jam their comms. Paladins, to your Lions.”

The five of them grimly fall into place, taking the chute to their respective giant mechanical familiars. The Paladins burst out into the void, supernatural roars audible even in the oppressive silence of vacuum.

“What are we looking at, here?” -Shiro asks everyone.

“Hands, mostly.” -Hunk says drily. “It’s not just me, right? Everybody else can see the multi-colored giant hands shooting at the Galra fleet?”

Hunk has a knack for summing up the crazy situations Team Voltron usually encounters, and this is no exception. Indeed, a fleet of massive, human-accurate, hand-shaped warships is trading blasts with a Galra dreadnought and about a dozen cruisers. They’re about half the size of the Castle of Lions each, which means they’re all dwarfed by the Galra capital ships. Pidge can make out green and yellow ones, mostly, but there’s a couple blue ones in there, too. She also notices that, while they’ve obviously suffered some damage, the hand ships are all still more or less intact, while a couple Galra cruisers have already become superheated chunks, slowly falling towards the planet, caught in its gravity well.

Judging by the fleets’ positions - the Galra are sandwiched between the planet and the Gem warships - the Galra got here first, and the hands are reinforcements for the Gems below.

“It doesn’t matter what they’re shaped like. They’re outnumbered and we’re here to even those odds.” -Shiro finally says. “Allura, can you contact the Gems? We don’t need them shooting us, too.”

“I will try. I’m not sure the Castle’s translator software includes Gem language.”

“It included human, didn’t it?” -Lance asks rhetorically. “Er, I mean English.”

“No, it did not. English was just relatively easy to decipher. Gem language, on the other hand, seems to be a combination of computer code and spoken word. We’ll whip up a message, but there’s no telling if they can even recognize it for what it is.”

“It’ll have to do.” -Shiro says as they enter firing range for the Lions’ main cannons. “Lance, Keith, focus on the fighters - try to draw them away from the Gem fleet. The rest of us will take out the Ion Cannons. Stay on your toes, everyone.”

The Paladins split into their respective groups - Pidge feels a bit awkward going with the heavy hitters, but her and Green are probably second worst at dog-fighting, so she gets it - and get to work. The Galra immediately begin attacking them instead, completely ignoring the Gem warships, likely overcome by their desire to please ol’ Zarkon with a nice, Voltron-themed gift basket.

Pidge is pleasantly surprised; they’ve only been at this for about a month - just last week, they saved the Balmera and its rocky inhabitants - but they already fight like a coherent unit. Part of it is the Garrison’s training, sure, but this newfound success is largely owed to the mystical link they all share as Paladins. She’s aware that Keith just melted down a squad chasing Lance, that Shiro just took a Jaw Blade to the dreadnought’s main battery, and that Hunk just spotted a cruiser’s Ion Cannon targeting her. Pidge simply dodges out of the way at the last second, letting the overwhelmingly powerful blast tear through the cruiser behind her and Green.

With the final Ion Cannon disabled, the Castle of Lions moves in. Particle blasts pepper the Galra fleet, which wastes no time in retaliating, but these bolts come from point-defense cannons - they’re meant to take down fighters and other such small ships, like the Lions technically are. The Castle’s barrier holds steady against this attack.

“I am detecting a significant Galra field presence on the planet.” -Allura says. “Several hundred Sentries, at the very least, possibly some Galra officers. They seem to be attacking a major Gem installation.”

“Then we better finish this up quick.” -Shiro says. “Everyone, regroup! Let’s form Voltron!”

The Lions roar in unison, flying towards a relatively safe point in space, and begin the morphing process. Pidge has studied it before from the Castle’s recordings, frame by frame, but in the heat of the moment, she can’t quite tell what’s going on - only that she’s now not quite just Pidge Gunderson, or Katie Holt, but a vital component of the immensely powerful whole that is Voltron. There are no longer five Lions and their respective pilots, there is the titanic warrior and their collectively melded minds.

Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be like, she instinctively knows. Eventually. But they’re all still rather new at it, so they still speak up like they’re separate individuals.

“Form Shoulder Cannon!” -Shiro commands, and Hunk immediately complies. The Cannon materializes, targets the remaining cruisers, and fires, swirling ribbons of deadly light tracing wild paths for a second or two before reaching their marks, burning through thick hulls and the decks within. Cataclysmic explosions tear some of the vessels apart, while those that survive are left like wounded beasts, venting atmosphere and spitting out plasma.

The dreadnought is mostly undamaged still, and its repair crews have managed to get the Ion Cannon somewhat operational again - they probably should’ve ripped it off instead of just slicing at it - and so it fires at them.

Before Shiro can call it out, Pidge is already forming the shield. It’s just in time, too, snapping into place as the beam reaches Voltron. Purple energy flares out around them, dissipating into harmless, free-floating ions a couple dozen miles out.

Voltron’s wings return to their original position, and Shiro bellows: “Form Sword!”

“Wait!” -Allura calls out. “Incoming energy signature!”

They turn, and sure enough, a massive shape warps into the battlefield. It’s a complete yellow right arm, a little longer than the Galra dreadnought, and its fist is clenched. It zips past Voltron at ramming speed, completely heedless of the fact that the dreadnought is charging another shot.

“Why aren’t they dodging?” -Lance asks the question on everyone’s mind.

The answer is apparent as soon as the beam washes over the yellow hull, and does absolutely no damage.

“Jesus.” -Hunk says. “What the heck is that arm made of?”

The arm then smashes into the bow of the dreadnought, sending it backwards in spite of its powerful engines trying to compensate. Voltron boosts towards the two warships, but stops in its tracks just as they’re about to reach them, as what looks like a large, yellow bubble - about the size of Black’s protective particle barrier - sprouts from the arm’s surface.

“Is that a woman?” -Lance asks, dumbstruck, as the bubble disappears, leaving behind its single occupant.

Pidge is not as impressed by the person’s apparent gender, as she is by their sheer size - they’re about as tall as the Black Lion while sat on its haunches. Their skin and helmet-shaped hair is the same yellow shade as the arm ship, and they’re wearing what looks like a short tailcoat, olive pants, and brown boots. A square, equally yellow gemstone about as tall as Shiro protrudes from their chest - and, strangely enough, it’s the only part of their body showing up on Green’s sensors.

“I...I guess that’s a Gem.” -Shiro says, his usual stoic composure broken up a bit by the sheer awe this being provokes. Judging by the off-the-charts telemetry Green can make out on them, Pidge is more inclined to label them as some kind of pseudo-divine being.

The giant person spares a brief look for the stunned Voltron, before becoming enveloped in a crackling electric aura, raising their left hand, and blasting the Ion Cannon.

The superweapon briefly becomes incandescent, then explodes, and so does the superstructure beneath it. The Gem then leaps, seemingly unaffected by the lack of gravity, and smashes into the burning wreckage of the Cannon, plunging into the dreadnought’s innards.

“Should we help?” -Keith asks, uncertain.

Lance scoffs. “Help!? Let’s throw her at Zarkon!”

Shiro shakes his head as small, fiery holes begin to violently blow through the warship’s hull. “Let’s leave them to it. I know for a fact the Galra don’t have anything inside that can actually put up a fight. Split up and head to the surface, instead.”

Voltron breaks apart into its constituent Lions, which begin the descent into the Gem world. Pidge notes, somewhat uncomfortably, that the hand ships have moved in, literally grabbing onto the wrecked Galra warships. It reminds her of Facehuggers, which, now that she’s an intergalactic traveller on the regular, she can only hope exist solely in movies.

The planet below isn’t really one to write home about; it’s a lifeless rocky world, not unlike a large Mercury, its thin atmosphere is primarily nitrogen-based - but the mixture is unbreathable for most life forms, humans included - and its soil is rich with aluminum oxides. Why the Gems would choose to settle here, Pidge has no clue. Maybe they like inhospitable worlds? They’re inorganic, so...maybe they’re not all that bothered by them?

The atmospheric burn doesn’t last long, even with the added challenge of dodging the falling debris caused by the battle above, and soon they’re diving through the thin cloud layer. Several artificial structures dot the landscape on the way to the battlefield - enormous columns beaming with light, intricate spires reaching towards space, and colosseum-like buildings floating between the clouds. The ground battle is taking place near a massive canyon network, inlaid with Gem machinery. This is where most of the Gems on the planet are concentrated, if sensor data is to be believed. Then again, their sensors can only pick up the individual gemstones on their bodies, so it’s really anyone’s guess.

“So, what’s the plan? A bombing run, maybe?” -Lance suggests.

“Negative. Some of the Gems seem to be fighting hand-to-hand with the Galra.” -Shiro says. “We’d be risking hitting them, too.”

“So, let’s join them. Let’s fight on foot.” -Keith says. Of course he does.

Hunk groans. Pidge winces to herself, too. Neither of them are too into the pedestrian portion of Paladinhood. “Let’s land nearby and try to find their commanding officer. They’ll probably know where we’ll be the most useful.” -Shiro says, finally.

The Lions come in hot, dust blowing as the massive mechs trot to a stop. Pidge readies herself, manifesting her bayard and hoping against hope that she won’t have to use it.

She runs out of Green’s mouth, meeting up with the others. All their weapons are out already. Shiro leads the way, approaching a small outpost from which a dozen Gems seem to be observing the nearby battle. None of them have anything she can identify as a gun; she spots some spears, a warhammer, several swords, and a bow and arrow. The weapon selection seems highly paradoxical, given their apparent technological prowess, but, then again, Keith’s bayard turns into a sword, too, and that’s über-advanced Altean techno-sorcery.

The next thing she notices is that the Gems are...eerily similar. Even the Balmorans were easier to tell apart; there are three types, all completely different from the last. The smallest are a head shorter than her, all colored in similar shades of red, with thick but stubby arms and legs, and a sort of blocky afro for hair. Their gemstones are all over the place - back of the hand, knee, chest, forehead, nose. Same goes for the other two kinds; one is about as tall as a full grown Galra, their stone an upright rectangle in the middle of their chest, with a poofy head of cheddar-colored hair, orange skin, a red jumpsuit, white gloves and boots, and a glittery yellow-red cape, and a green colored Gem with a triangular gemstone for an eye, a perfectly square head of light yellow hair, and odd, free-floating fingers manipulating some kind of hard-light screen.

“Greetings. We are the Paladins of Voltron.” -Shiro announces, following protocol because he’s, well, Shiro. “We picked up your distress signal, and have come to help.”

Pidge half expects to hear gibberish back from the Gems, but when the tall, orange one replies, it’s in perfect english. “Oh? Is that so?”

Their tone takes all of them aback. It’s the condescending ‘it’s cute that you think you know better than me’ kind of voice Pidge knows very well from years of...overachieving in academic endeavors. It’s also far from the way you’d expect a Commander in trouble to sound like. “Uh...yes? We’re at your service. Where do you need us?”

They languidly turn to the green Gem. “Peridot, where do we need the Paladins of Voltron?”

Pidge vaguely remembers something about the mineral peridotite coming from the Earth’s mantle. Peridot’s voice is kinda nasal, and she sounds...bored. “Ruby squadron theta is requesting assistance, my Hessonite.”

Judging by the way the small, red Gems worriedly fidget at the mention, they’re Rubies, too. Now the colony makes sense; aluminum oxide forms corundum, a mineral real life rubies - and sapphires, which Pidge is guessing is another type of Gem - are found in.

Hessonite hums. “Well, there you go. Go, go! I’d love to watch.”

The Paladins look at each other in confusion, but silently decide not to think about it too much. They rush towards the nearest fight, which is definitely going in the Gems’ favor.

The Rubies may lack any sort of projectile weaponry, but they don’t seem to be fazed much by the Galra Sentries’ laser blasts. They wince and yelp when hit, but otherwise continue charging. They’re also surprisingly strong, taking down the drones in a single punch more often than not. Still, the Paladins join in, blasting and slicing away at the robots. Again, their teamwork has experienced a marked improvement. They’re hardly commandos, but they cover for each other’s weaknesses fairly well. Most of the Rubies ignore them, but a couple of them cheerfully greet and thank them - with the absolute cutest voice ever - before moving on to the next skirmish.

That’s when the first Galra tank pops up over a nearby ridge, points at the departing Rubies, and shoots.

The plasma burst explodes at their feet, and when the smoke clears, one lays groaning face-down, while only a circular, soot-covered gemstone remains of the other. “Lance, Hunk, cover fire!” -Shiro barks out. He dives to cover the Ruby with his body, while the Paladins distract the tank. Pidge and Keith follow suit, bringing up their particle shields, since a squad of Sentries has taken aim at them.

“I’m...sorry about your friend.” -Shiro says, gravely. A large, striped, yellow-orange Gem with a mane of white hair roars past them, and absolutely demolishes the Sentries shooting at them. It’d be funny, if someone hadn’t just died before her eyes.

The Ruby - her gemstone is on her right knee - seems very confused. “What? She’s fine, she’s right there! Not even chipped or anything.” -she says, all earnest and adorable, pointing at the gemstone on the ground. “Haven’t you guys ever seen a Gem poof before? It happens to us Rubies all the time…”

Ah. Pidge thinks she gets it, now. That’s why Green’s sensors and her armor’s onboard systems can’t make out anything but the actual gemstone: the humanoid body is some kind of light construct. The gem is the Gem.

The Gem blanks out for a second, then looks at them with guilt. “Um, listen, I have to go.” -she say. “We’ve been ordered to defend the western entrance to the Kindergarten.”

Keith balks. “You have children here!?”

The Ruby doesn’t seem to understand that word. “No? We have a vein of potential Sapphires, though, so we can’t let the organics anywhere near there.” -she explains, then grabs the other Ruby’s gemstone from the ground and hands it to a very surprised Shiro. “We’re supposed to leave poofed soldiers behind, but...she’s my friend. Just...take care of her until she reforms, please?” -she pleads.

Knee Ruby doesn’t wait for an answer, just bolting - well, more like hup-hup-hup-ing - towards the western side of the canyon network. Hunk and Lance return, fresh from taking out the Galra tank. “Oh cool!” -Lance says, catching the glint of the scarlet gemstone. “That’s gotta be worth like, a cool million.”

“This is, apparently, a person.” -Pidge says, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, what? I thought they were just really into body mods.”

Keith shakes his head. “Were you not paying attention to your Lion’s sensors?”

Lance scowls. “Don’t sass me, Kogane. I’ve got Earth on my brain right now and not much else.”

Shiro puts his flesh and blood hand on Lance’s right pauldron. “We all do, but we need to focus for now.” -he says, understanding, rising as he cautiously pockets the gemstone. “Let’s try to find the Galra commander.”

Pidge pipes up. “Oh, let me.” -she says, then closed her eyes. She finds that thread in the back of her mind and pulls on it, grabbing Green’s attention. Their connection is nowhere near as good as it could be, one day, but this is more than enough for now.

Green is more in tune with life than any of the other Lions - as in, she can sense living organisms better than any of the others - so Pidge asks her to scan the horizon for living Galra combatants. Green roars, and a quick scan later, the actual Galra on this world are marked, and their location relayed to the Paladins. Disturbingly, Green detects none in orbit.

Shiro takes a moment to strategize. “Okay. There’s three groups of Galra soldiers. One seems to be established at their FOB, and lightly guarded - Pidge and Lance, you take those out, and see if you can figure out why the Galra are so close to Earth in the first place. Another squad is establishing static defenses nearby - Keith and Hunk, that’s you. I’ll join the Gems in taking down the ones fighting alongside the remaining Sentries.”

Pidge grimaces. She’s no stranger to taking lives by now - Galra warships may be mostly crewed and defended by robots, but there’s still an organic element in command, and she’s taken down several - but killing up close is an entirely different matter. Something tells her that her mantra of ‘one less Galra is one less obstacle between me and my family’ probably won’t cut it this time around.

Goddamn it, she’s fifteen.

Lance winks at her. Pidge doesn’t think much of it, considering he flirts with pretty much every being that could be argued to be sapient. “Think you can keep up, Pidge?”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.” -she replies, deadpan. Pidge turns to Shiro. “I might not be able to interface with their tech without your arm, just so you know.”

“Try it anyway. If you can’t, just destroy their outpost.” -he says.

They split up, and head towards their targets. It’s a short hike, made only a bit sluggish by the debris from the battle. Pidge spots several dormant gemstones among the broken Sentries.

“So, why do you think they all look like girls?” -Lance asks.

“Let’s not assume their gender.” -she says. “We don’t even know if they have one.”

“No, I get that. I’m just saying, they do present themselves as feminine, more or less.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve met them all. Maybe those Sapphires the Ruby talked about look different.”

Lance hums. “And the big one? What kind of Gem do you think she is?”

Pidge jet-boosts past a Galra hovertank that looks like it’s been physically crushed. “A Topaz, maybe? I don’t know that many yellow gemstones. Could be a Yellow Diamond too, I guess.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty regal.” -he says. “She’s gotta be like, their queen or something, right?”

“If they’re the leader of Gemkind, fighting on the front lines would be a very poor judgement call. There’s a reason Zarkon’s lived to rule ten thousand years. He just spits out orders from his throne room.”

“Well, that plus magic, right?”

She sighs. As much as she’d love to say that ‘magic is just really fancy tech they don’t understand yet’, she’s seen enough weird Altean and Galra bull to recognize that the phrase is worthless in reality.

“...yeah, that too.”

Her HUD flashes red in warning, just as they’re about to crest the hill overlooking their target. She looks up, and sees a fragment of burning Galra hull falling towards their general vicinity.

“Uh...Pidge? Is that headed for…?”

“Us, yeah!” -she screams, grabbing his arm and punching her thruster pack to the max. They zoom away just in time, as the artificial meteor slams into the hill, the shockwave sending both of them careening across the landscape. The come to a tumbling stop a couple hundred feet away, groaning. The Paladin armor takes the worst of it, for sure, but Pidge is already dreading the bruises she’ll find when she hits the showers later today.

“Are you okay?” -Lance asks.

She shakes her head, more to check for concussions than to say no. “I’m alive.”

He steps into her field of view, offering a hand. She takes it and rises. “Are we still keeping score after this? I’m pretty sure the save is worth a lot.”

Lance smirks. “No, no, I’m pretty sure this just makes us even.”

“What? For what?”

“Sendak, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s true.” -she says. If not for his clutch save, the cyborg might’ve taken them out, instead of the other way around. “I’m pretty sure the game is over anyway, they’re probably all dead by now.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The fragment that almost hit us, it exploded in midair. The other piece should’ve landed right on top of the Galra base.”

As if to confirm her hypothesis, an explosion shakes the ground on the other side of the hill. Lance winces. “Alright, let’s go check it out.”

They nearly crest the ridge, before they’re stopped in their tracks. A Galra soldier pops over the hill, running towards them. Pidge brings her bayard to bear, but it’s ultimately unnecessary. It’s the briefest of moments, and the most terrifying sequence of events she’s witnessed in this little space opera she’s on: a blinding light appears behind the Galra, catches up to him, and consumes him. As in, when the glow subsides, the alien has completely vanished. Disintegrated, presumably.

“Oh my God.” -Lance says. Funny, Pidge didn’t peg him for a God-fearing man. Teenager. Yikes, she’s already rambling.

The Galra’s killer soon becomes apparent, as the massive yellow Gem they’d seen in space nonchalantly walks toward them, each step shaking the ground beneath their feet. Pidge can’t quite nail why it’s so different from staring up at the Lions; the height is similar after all, but the approaching Gem is so much more intimidating. Maybe it’s the humanoid shape. Maybe it’s their irritated frown.

It’s probably the fact that their electric aura still crackles as they approach.

“I had not realized that humanity had achieved spaceflight.” -they say. Their voice is definitely feminine, their tone that of someone who knows themselves to be superior. There’s an undercurrent of weariness, too, but Pidge is all but certain it’s not of the physical kind - they move like they’re on a leisurely stroll, as if they hadn’t just dropped from orbit and atomized someone. “With the amount of technology Homeworld left behind, it’s a wonder it took so long.”

The being squints at them. Pidge notices that their irises - yellow, of course - have diamond-shaped pupils.

Ah. Yellow Diamond, then.

“Then again, that armor is hardly of Gem make. Too...flimsy. Much like the rest of you organics.”

Well, that certainly sounds like an insult.

“Not just any organics.” -Lance says. He’s afraid, and covering it up with bravado. Classic Lance. “We’re the Paladins of Voltron, ma’am.”

Yellow Diamond seems...unimpressed. “Is that what you call the waste of quintessence I saw in orbit, Blue Paladin?”

“What do you mean waste? Voltron is like, the most powerful weapon in the universe!” -Pidge says. So she’s feeling defensive of Green and her little found family. So fear makes her lash out a bit. Sue her.

“I mean that the amount of quintessence powering your so-called Voltron would create enough Gems to conquer every planet in every galaxy. And yet, its makers chose to concentrate all that power into five vulnerable little puzzle pieces, and then put them in the hands of humans.”

“Jesus, lady. Calm it down, will you? We wouldn’t even be here if not for your distress signal. We came here to save you from the Galra.” -Lance says. Pidge isn’t sure if it’s intentional, but he’s protectively stepped in front of her. Not that it’ll do much good once Yellow Diamond tires of this conversation and vaporizes them, but it's, y’know, a nice gesture.

“I assure you, your assistance was neither needed nor wanted. These Galra may be a threat to your kind, but as you can plainly see, they are mere annoyances for Gemkind.”

Pidge grabs Lance’s arm. “It’s okay, Lance. Maybe we should just go back to Shiro and the others.” -she suggests, rather urgently. “We’re obviously not welcome here.”

“Good. I thought perhaps I was being too subtle.” -Yellow Diamond says, disdainful. “Take your mechanical pets and leave my world, Paladins of Voltron. Return to that doomed mudball you call the Earth.”

The Gem’s aura subsides, and they turn to leave. Pidge breathes a sigh of relief because yeah, Yellow Diamond was definitely considering offing them. Green and Blue fly towards them as the massive arm ship pokes through the clouds above. The Gem matriarch leaps onto its palm, and disappears into its depths. The ship then points towards the sky, elongates impossibly, and disappears in a vortex of warped space-time.

“Yikes.” -Lance says.

“Yup.”

“That could’ve gone better.”

“Could’ve gone worse, too.” -she points out. “We’re not exactly great at diplomacy.”

“True.” -he says, as their two Lions land beside them. “Hey, what do you think she meant by calling Earth doomed?”

Pidge shrugs. Her nerves are a bit too frayed to really think about it. “Global warming? I dunno, Lance. I just hope we never get to ask her. At least, not in person.”

“Yeah, no argument here.”

They board the Lions, and head towards their fellow Paladins. They’re already taking off, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

“Gems are nuts, you guys.” -Hunk says when they join them. “Like, not even the fact that even their tiny Ruby guys could toss me around like I weigh about half a Pidge…”

“Hey!”

“...they turned on us the moment the Galra were done! We didn’t even have a chance to give them their buddy back!”

Pidge’s eyebrows shoot up. “You kept the Ruby!?”

“I did.” -Shiro says, gravely. “Which means this won’t be the last time we deal with the Gems. We’ll have to figure out a way to approach them safely, now that we know that they aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Earth first though, right?” -Lance asks, hopeful, then amends himself. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I desperately need some strictly human comforts. Pizza, videogames, beautiful human women…”

Pidge laughs to herself. Trust Lance to ruin a somber moment, even if it’s his own. The internal laugh is, admittedly, a little hysterical - they did just meet a space goddess, after all.

Shiro smiles. “Earth first, Lance.”

#voltron #VLD #steven universe #ruby #hessonite #peridot #jasper #(but not our jasper)#squaridot #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #katie holt #allura #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #fanfic #crossover #yellow diamond

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