Book 6:Dangerous Deception:

Chapter Four

"What's taking them so long?" Zarkon snarled at Cossack, who was standing just behind Zarkon's throne, ever alert for any of Zarkon violent outbursts.

Better them than me... Cossack thought as looked at some officers who were treated to the 'privilege'of watching the Games from the Royal skybox.

"Sire." Cossack said aloud. "Commander Trag has the two pilots and is loading them onto the slave barges, along with the shipment of savages from Midian."

"How long ago?" Zarkon asked, not even turning to acknowledge his new Commander of the Doom Fleet.

"Uh, hm, let me check..." Cossack checked his wrist chron. "30 point klicks, Sire."

"Cossack, you bubble brain! Sentry guards on Zanthar report in every fifteen klicks! I ought to throw YOU into the Pit!"

That old fart.. Cossack grimaced. Blame me for those third rate guards with nothing better to do than to diddle with themselves. Time for damage control.

"Go check recent transmissions from Zanthar and make it snappy!" Cossack barked at a lesser officer.

"I've taken care of it, Sire." Cossack looked pleased with himself.

"You better have, Cossack." Zarkon took a long draught of his favorite blood wine. Scantily clad slave girls were always ready to refill their Master's goblet without any prompting. It wasn't wise to cross Zarkon - even in a good mood. Slaves were less than nothing to him.

"Wine, my dear?" Zarkon placed his goblet to Allura's lips. Instantly, she wrinkled up her nose in disgust.

"You DARE refuse my benevolence?" Zarkon growled.

"No,no...my Lord Husband." Allura quickly said. "It's your son I think of! Such a strong wine might hurt him at this stage."

"Hmmmm..." Zarkon drew the noxious goblet away and drank the rest. "For now, yes. But in a few months...I want my son to a true warrior! You'll learn to enjoy the indulgence of blood wine."

Wait. Hagar said in Allura's mind.

Honevera... Allura thought.

Show nothing even in your thoughts, girl!

Keith's eyes were dark with seething anger. There. Princess Allura, the one he had sworn - no, vowed to protect, in the clutches of Zarkon.

Keith's index finger caressed the trigger his newly accquired lazon Xan pistol, something he had procured from a 'sleeping' guard.

Just one shot...just one...kill that bastard dead... Keith thought angrily. All the lives Zarkon had taken,all the death and pain he had caused...

Only Keith's innate self-control prevented his action.

Zanthar. A voice intoned in Keith's head.

Black Lion!

An unattended transport ship awaits...take it.

But the Princess! Keith cried out in his very soul. He couldn't leave her!

You must. Black Lion's Spirit spoke back.She will survive to rule Arus once more with 'her' Chosen.

Chosen?

GO NOW!!

With a last glance at Allura, Keith, by way of Black Lion's direction, found the unattended one man fighter, and claimed it. He jumped into the cockpit, unsure if he would even make it through security, but the ship's chip code was a perfect match according to Doom Control, so Keith's luck held out.

Next stop: Zanthar.

Lotor was waiting.

Waiting for his turn to battle.

Actually he was waiting to die, since his father was sure to have the deck stacked against him.

Lotor wasn't afraid of dying, really. The only thing he regretted was leaving Allura to bear his father for as long as she was of use to him.

One second, Lotor thought, was entirely one second too long to be in the prescence of that bastard.

Lotor thought of many scenarios where he could kill his father and free his only love forever.

"Here." Lotor's thoughts were interupted by the fat prison jailer who tossed some rags at him.

"Ain't so high an' mighty, are ye, 'Prince Lotor'? Yer nothin' but roebeast fodder now." The jailer spoke in his common bastardized Druule.

Abruptly, the jailer kicked Lotor in his side, the jailer's weight and Lotor's severe hunger and thirst giving the fat jailer an advantage.

Lotor felt blood run down his lower lip and chin as he bit down on his lip to keep from making a sound.

"That's for my sister, asshole..." The jailer grinned down at Lotor."Ya used her an' ya did'n pay 'er dowry. 'Stead ya gave 'er ta yer men. She's crazy an' her box is all used up - e'n th' drags don't wanna touch 'er.

He was expected to remember one lone slut?

His love for drink and women - always his downfall.

The fat jailer wobbled away, grumbling, - "lost 'er cashbox, she did...no frickin' money for her own kin..."

Lotor struggled up. Yeah, that fat son of a bitch had broken some ribs.

It wasn't the first time Lotor had to fight with a severe injury

Moving as quickly as he could, Lotor stood up and stripped off his prison attire. He reached for his 'armor' and made a face. It was nothing but a very thin and very cheap sleeveless tunic and breastplate, scarred and bloodstained from much use and a leather codpiece. It reeked of terror, blood, and death. The smell reminded him of rancid blood wine, and he remembered the time when he had tried to force Allura to drink it.

Abruptly, Lotor fell on his knees, a watery vomit issuing from deep within.

If by some boon from the gods I survive this, I will never drink that crap - EVER again, I swear it...

Whether they heard him, he didn't know.