Voltron's Mirror: First Meetings

"I'm fine!" Shiro scowled and tried to push away Hunk's hands, but that was a little difficult with Lance holding one arm and Keith the other.
Hunk, for his part, studiously ignored his patient's protests and continued to wipe blood from his face.

"Come on, Shiro, either you let us fix this, or you get to explain the blood to Dad later," Hunk said stubbornly.

"Explain the what to me later?" a voice interrupted, and all four boys winced. With an exasperated sigh, Zarkon reached down to turn Shiro's face from side to side. "Has he been checked for head injuries yet?"

The words, coupled with the gentle grip on his face, rang in Shiro's mind like the tolling of a bell. He froze, trying to snatch at the fragments of memory swirling just out of his reach. He'd been here before! But when?
A series of images filled his mind: Commander Iverson emphasizing the importance of staying on one particular side of Kerberos. The Altaen bounty hunters descending upon the research team. Commander Holt ordering him to run.
Ah. That was why this was familiar. Oblivious to the worried reactions of those around him, Shiro latched onto the fragile thread of the memory and tugged.

It would not have been an exaggeration to say that Takeshi Shirogane was one of the Galaxy Garrison's best pilots. He liked to think he could fly almost anything, really.
However, the alien life pod he'd stolen -- from aliens! Aliens existed! -- was a bit beyond him. He was already dazed by the blow to the back of the head the male, Rollo, had delivered. The completely foreign controls did not help at all. Shiro was certain he'd be recaptured at any moment, dragged back to wherever Sam and Matt were. Desperate, he slammed his hand down on a round orb in the panel's center

Wormhole Jump: Engaged a computerized voice announced. If Shiro had known anything about wormholes and traveling through them, he would have checked to see if the space on the other side was clear. But he did not.
The pod careened out of the wormhole and slammed into the half open cargo bay of a massive cruiser, easily thrice the size of the bounty hunters' ship. The impact sent Shiro flying backwards out of the seat and he remembered hearing bones crack before everything went black.

"-at is it?" A low, growly voice drew Shiro slowly back into consciousness.
"Life pod of some kind," someone replied. "Question is, who is it and how did they find the fleet?"

Shiro blinked slowly, and felt the stiffness of dried blood on his face. As his eyes focused, then unfocused, then focused again, he noticed that the pod was in shambles. Flames licked greedily at the control panel, sending an oily black smoke into the air and surrounding him. Metal plating and things he assumed were structural supports hung from the ceiling, lay over the floor, and pinned his left leg to the deck. Shiro could already see the leg swelling amidst the blood, but couldn't center his thoughts on tending to it.

A tall, thin frame entered the pod after the sounds of machinery resulted in the sudden appearance of a door. Shiro squinted at the man, baffled, until he saw the shade of his skin.
Purple. Just like that Rollo guy.
Overwhelmed with the urge to flee, Shiro tore a sizable chunk of the control panel out of its resting place in the flesh of his right arm, wincing at the renewed flow of blood soaking his uniform, and dragged himself into a crouch. His leg protested mightily, and Shiro tried to ignore it as his vision swam.

When the intruder got close enough, Shiro swung the piece of heated control board as hard as he could. It made a satisfying hiss-thunk! as it caught the alien upside the head. The unfortunate being stumbled back, clutching his head in pain.

"Mumm-ra's eyes!" he cursed, caught off guard, "Why you little-!" He reached for a gun the likes of which Shiro had never seen, and aimed at the human.

"Bola, hold your fire!" a commanding voice interrupted.
A huge being, even taller than the one who was apparently named Bola, squeezed himself through the makeshift doorway and hurried to kneel next to where Shiro had collapsed.

"My emperor, it attacked me!" Bola protested, "And it may be some kind of short ear Altaen!"

The emperor -- for so he was -- frowned and took the human's bloodied face in one hand, examining it closely. It did not escape his notice that the being was clearly terrified of them.
"Has he been checked for head injuries yet?" he asked as Shiro tried to pull away, smacking into a wall behind him.

Bola shook his head in frustration. "Haven't gotten close enough yet!"

Shiro watched the aliens, wide eyed. Everything still echoed in his ears from the roar of the crash, making it difficult to understand what was being said. Panicked, he tried to wrench free of the armored giant's grip again, but the clawed fingers only tightened across his face and suddenly a bright light shone in his eyes.

"Easy, easy," Zarkon murmured when the pilot groaned, and he set the small utility light down. "Just checking for concussions, though we won't know for sure until Haggar has a chance to look you over."

At some point Shiro's fight or flight instincts must have kicked in. He was suddenly aware that he had somehow managed to squirm out of reach and under a pile of debris, and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. The big alien and the one he'd hit were no longer alone. Seven other purple men in armor and wielding odd guns surrounded him, scowling.

The one they called emperor still crouched a few feet away from Shiro, evidently trying to look non-threatening. "Don't be afraid," he called in a coaxing tone, "We want to help you."
He glanced up at the soldiers and made a sharp gesture. "Lower your weapons," he said firmly, "I do not believe he is armed."

Shiro stared at the hand held out to him, not really comprehending.
"Come on, it's alright," the emperor smiled encouragingly at him. "Come out."

Shiro squinted at the soldiers and their guns, and after several seconds decided he didn't have much choice. Shaking both with nerves and with the pain of his injuries, he eased out of the debris. Several times his suit caught, and he felt sharp metal tearing at his skin.

"That's it," the armored giant whispered, reaching out, "I won't hurt you, little one. Come here, that's it,"
Then he was within arm's reach and strong hands gently gripped his shoulders, pulling him close. "I've got you," said the giant, "I've got you. Let's get you to the Druids, hm?"

For the first time since crashing, Shiro tried to speak. "Wh-?"

He was quickly, but not unkindly, shushed. "There will be time enough for questions after we've determined your species and the extent of your injuries. Come on, then."
And then Shiro was being carried. What came after that, he could not have said. Someone accidentally jarred his injured leg, driving him back into unconsciousness.

"Shiro? Shiro, can you hear me?" Keith's worries tones drew Shiro back to the present.

"Huh?" he asked, eloquently.

The younger boy frowned. "A flashback again?" he guessed.
"How bad?" asked Lance.

"I..." Shiro scrunched up his face and tried to preserve the memory before it faded again. He glanced at Zarkon and smiles faintly. "I think it was a good memory, for a change," he said quietly.