Part One

Niloc sat before the holoprojector, his ink black eyes the only things moving as he watched the dogfight playing before him. He had his feet propped up on the corner of the table and his powerful arms were crossed over his muscular chest. He was an intimidating figure at first sight and even more so when he imposed his will. He had made mistakes in his past, mistakes that he could never repay, but he now he had the power that he deserved. Needless to say, he was something of a traitor, but Zarkon was not known to want generals without character flaws. If anything, he fit the bill perfectly.

"Wasting time, Niloc?" Lotor drawled, swaggering into the room. "I thought my father paid you enough so that you could at least find something to do."

Niloc didn't bother turning around to acknowledge Lotor and effectively ignored him. It was enough to rile the Prince. In two strides, Lotor was at Niloc's side and he shoved the general's chair out of the way to see what was so interesting. He snorted.

"What's this? Just going over another victory to feed your ego?" Lotor sneered.

Niloc stared at Lotor a moment before his lips stretched into a cold smile, his eyes cold. "I don't expect you to understand what I'm doing, Your Majesty. After all, I am planning for a bigger victory over Voltron, something that you haven't even gotten a whiff of."

Lotor bristled and his hand immediately flew to the handle of the sword hanging at his side. Niloc followed the movement, but didn't give any indication that he was worried Lotor would strike him down. He knew the Prince didn't have the guts to do it. Because then he would face the wrath of his father.

"Are you finished banging your boots? I have a lot of work to do," Niloc said, turning his back to Lotor and sitting up straight in his seat.

He made a good show of watching the screen as if it was the most important thing in the universe. Lotor glared at the back of his head but said nothing more. Predictably, he turned on his heels and left the room with a furious huff. When the doors slid shut behind the Prince, Niloc went back to his relaxed position and allowed himself a boisterous shout of laughter.

That idiot, he thought amusedly. It's such a surprise a successful tyrant such as Zarkon could have an offspring without any kind of brain. The King must have kept it all to himself for Lotor to turn out like such a moron.

He let out one last snicker before going back to all business. He didn't know what it was about Voltron, but he just wanted to blast it out of the sky. Perhaps it was just to show up Lotor one last time, or to show Zarkon that he was more valuable than anyone could ever imagine, but most likely it was because of Commander Porterfield.

Niloc steepled his fingers as his eyes narrowed slightly. He and Porterfield had a long history. He couldn't quite say why he hated the kid so much, but he did. There was something about him that niggled at Niloc and for someone with as much firepower at his fingertips, it was enough reason to blow another person out of the sky. But it went much deeper than just plain old fashioned hatred. Their history spanned a lifetime and to Niloc, Porterfield was a loose end that needed to be tied up. It was more convenient than anything else that he happened to be captain of the most hated Voltron.

Two birds with one stone.

The projection ended then and he restarted it. He watched the Lions come to the rescue of Blue Lion for the hundredth time, analyzing their battle tactics as well as skill level. By far, the most reckless was the pilot of Red Lion. The most careful, the pilot of the Green. That pilot flew as if on tiptoe, almost gracefully. It was an interesting way of flying. The pilot of the Black was impressive to say the least and this was not surprising. Porterfield had excellent hand-to-eye coordination. The pilot of the Yellow flew somewhere in between the Red Lion pilot's recklessness and Green Lion pilot's gracefulness. He was not to be taken lightly. But every team had a weak link and that was Blue Lion. The Princess Allura, though she would probably be as good as Porterfield with time, was still a fledgling pilot and was therefore an obvious target. Niloc was sure Porterfield knew that and that was probably more dangerous than having a weak pilot because any of them would give their lives to save their less-skilled friend. And the most obvious candidate for that job was Porterfield. He always made sure Blue Lion flew close to his side. That would be his undoing.

A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. "Niloc," Zarkon barked from his comm link. "I just received word that you wanted an audience wtih me. Come to the throne room."

"Yes, Sire," Niloc said, standing.

He turned off the projection and left the room. His boots clicked smartly on the metallic floors as he entered the darkened corridors. His human eyes did not see in this light as well as Drulean eyes did, but he made do with a pair of infrared contact lenses that he wore when in the castle. He did not wear goggles because he did not want to appear weak before the others, so he had the lenses made discreetly. He marched towards the throne room, passing by several guards who acknowledged him respectfully and whom he greeted back.

He reached the throne room and found the usual party-like atmosphere within. Zarkon was surrounded by harem girls up on his throne's platform as were his generals down below. Niloc was the only general who did not enjoy the fruits of Zarkon's garden, and he found it distasteful that the others did. He walked into the room as if there was no one in it but himself and Zarkon, ignoring the others with his chin held high. He bowed when he reached the foot of the stairs that led up to Zarkon's throne. The King of Doom waved his harem girls away and smiled down at his favorite general.

"So, Niloc. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I must ask you, Your Majesty, why have you hesitated in attacking the Alliance while it is at its weakest?"

The room fell immediately silent. No one had ever questioned Zarkon's decisions without losing a limb...or his life. But Niloc was arrogant and he knew that Zarkon thought him too valuable to terminate at the present time, so he stood his ground, his face turned up to the King earnestly as if he had just asked what time dinner would be.

"You are bold, General," Zarkon said. "Leave us!"

Within seconds the room cleared until it was only two of them left. Zarkon stared at Niloc for a few moments, long enough to make him uncomfortable...at least that was the plan, but Niloc showed no sign of discomfort. He met Zarkon's stare head on.

"It is a simple question with a simple answer," Zarkon said at last. "I want the Alliance to bow down to me in nothing but shambles. I do not want to destroy it with one deft stroke, oh no," he said with a grim smile. "I want to wear it down until it is nothing but a collection of empty planets and desolate people. Our last attack was but a taste of things to come. Right now, they are assembling to create a government."

"I know," Niloc said. "A perfect time to launch another attack."

"Not yet, General. You are too impatient. You will have Commander Porterfield's head on a platter soon enough. I want them to start their fledgling government. With time, they will fight amongst themselves. I have made sure of it. And that's when the decay of the Alliance shall begin. You see, General, I do have a flair for the dramatic."

Niloc didn't know what to say. He did not agree with Zarkon's plan. He wanted to attack now and destroy them all while they had a good chance of winning any fight that the Alliance would put up. But he had a feeling that if he spoke against Zarkon now, after hearing his plan, he would be severely punished. And that was even more unacceptable.

"Very well, Sire," Niloc said, bowing again. "I will await your next orders."

"Good, Niloc," Zarkon said, satisfied. "You hold your tongue well. I know you do not understand why I am doing this, but I am happy to see that you know when to speak and when not to. Just look at it this way; this is the whim of a King who knows he is going to win no matter which plan he executes."

Niloc's lips turned up slightly. "I understand. But arrogance can sometimes lead to disaster."

With that said, he turned and left the room. Zarkon stared after him, unsure whether he should kill him now or let that one pass.

He's too valuable, he reflected. But he needs to be shown who is boss.

"HAGAR!" he called.

The witch appeared at the foot of the throne platform with a burst of smoke. She looked up at Zarkon.

"You called?"

"I want you to plague Niloc for a little while," Zarkon said. "He has become too confident of his position with me. He needs to be taken down a few notches."

"Anything in particular you want done?" she asked with a cackle of laughter.

"Just make his life miserable for a little while."

"I think the best way to do that is to have Lotor be his second-in-command in his next mission," Hagar thought aloud.

Zarkon eyebrows raised. "That is an excellent idea. Nevermind the hocus-pocus, Witch. I'll give Niloc a plague straight from the family. LOTOR!"