I. What's a Voltron?

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  "Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission." The shuttle dipped. I continued to check the controls for any sudden changes, mainly bad ones, which wouldn't surprise me. Lance at the helm? Last time, if you ask me. The decent seemed to be going okay but Lance's recklessness can take a tide for sure. Hunk groaned behind us.

  "Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk was trying not to spill his previous meal all over the shuttle interior or in one of the control panels. Lance responded with teetering the shuttle, making Hunk groan even more. You could hear his stomach squelching throughout the ship. "Lance, unless you want beef stroganoff in all the nooks and crannies in this thing, you'd better stop that, man!"

  Pidge spoke up from beside me. "We've picked up a distress beacon!"

  "All right, look alive team!" Lance whooped. "Pidge, track coordinates." He continued to fly recklessly.

  Pidge typed away, "Copy."

  Then, the hydraulic stabilizer crapped out. Great job, Lance. "Hunk, could you get the hydraulic stabilizer fixed? It just went." I continued trying to keep the ship together while the computer beeped in agreement. "Lance, please start flying smoother. The ship won't hold up and we're gonna see some strogoanoff soon enough." The shuttle's condition wasn't looking very well at this point.

  Hunk gulped as the whole shuttle rumbled. "Oh, no."

  " 'Oh, no?' You heard her. Fix now, puke later."

  "Maybe if you fly smoother Hunk would be able to fix the stabilizer!" Pidge's annoyance reached me. "I'm loosing contact. The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

  I became determined to fix things myself, starting to count down the moments when I'd take over the helm. Looking at our ship's situation; fixing the stabilizer would put us in a better direction while soothing most of the shaking and we'd be able get the coordinates back. Then. Lance would have better control of the ship but, whether or not he'd stop flying recklessly is not under my control. Not completely. The ship would fall apart on the inside soon enough. "Hunk, we need the stabilizer online again! It's the only way!" I shouted, pushing the hair out of my face while I tried to retrieve the coordinates again.

  "It's not responding!" Hunk managed through moans.

  Lance managed to keep his cool, "Oh, never mind, fellas. Thar she blows." He gave himself a pirate accent. "Preparing for approach on visual." We descended even more.

"I don't think that's advisable with our current mechanical and... gastrointestinal issues," Pidge told him.

"Agreed," Hunk and I said.

Lance brushed it off. "Stop worrying," He chided. "This baby can take it, can't you, champ?" The entire ship rumbled again like it was about to fall apart. "See? She was nodding. She was nodding," He repeated. "Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here."

  Pidge started talking through the intercom. "Attention, lunar vessel-" They started screaming. I started trying to take over, knowing most of our hope was lost.

  "What are you doing? Put your seatbelt on!" Lance looked back at Pidge, who had fallen out of their chair, "And Hunk, stop that shaking!" He ordered.

  Hunk garbled from behind us. "I'm tryin-" He vomited into the gearbox.

   Pidge steadied their self. "Attention, lunar vessel," Pidge repeated, "this is Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft One Victor Six Three Tango. Coming in for landing and extraction, against crew recommendations," Pidge finished, glaring at Lance.

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