Voltron Ships Novels & Stories

(He smiles as he runs his hand through his hair removing a few strands from his face) W.O.L.F Ship: Quantum battery signals loss, searching for alternative power source. Switching to gasoline mode. WARNING! 1 gallon of gasoline detected please refuel. (It is at this moment the ship slowly begins to descend from the stratosphere as it begins to lose power. Xanne and Dantzler both seem confused and the look of confusion on Xanne's face quickly switches to absolute anger as he sees a massive flame of rainbows descending from the ship separately.)

Tristan and Saoirse entered. The conversation stopped. Tristan walked to the head of the table. He wore a new coat—black leather reinforced with Aether-resistant lining, designed by Helena to dampen his emissions. He looked like a general. A very dangerous, very unstable general. "Report," Tristan said. "The fleet is fueled," Thorne said. "We have fifty ships combat-ready. Another twenty support vessels." "The Sovereign’s main cannon is online," Vane added. "Though we only have enough charge for three shots. After that, we’re throwing rocks."

The three-ton wolf let out a low, tired sigh, his head lowering onto his paws as the violet fire in his sockets settled back into a peaceful, watchful ember. "The... the docking clamps are open, Zora," Kemi whispered, her voice shaking as she looked out over the six massive cargo ships that were now completely free of their corporate chains. "The... the whole fleet is ours. And the sector six Spires... they don't have a database left to log our debt."

“They are charging the primary beam! They are going to level the crater! Get out of there!” ​I looked up. The three Motherships were converging, their triangular hulls interlocking to form a single, massive focal point. A spark of white light, brighter than the sun, began to gather at the center. ​“Vanguard, retreat to the secondary bunkers!” I ordered, my voice cracking. “Move! Now!” ​I turned to run, but a vine caught my ankle, slamming me face-first into the dirt. I rolled over, my knife out, but the vine didn’t squeeze. It held me still, pinning me to the ground as the sky turned white.

Planet FXP-04, Copernicus System, Federal Outer Systems A whole fleet of ships flashed in at the beacon high above Federal eXperimental Planet number four. Two of them were heavy cargo cruisers, and their company’s logo was painted in bright colors along the side. All around them was their hired protection, frigates and fighters and corvettes and mecha. The convoy’s captain - the one inside the lead cargo cruiser - hailed the Naval ships that sat a thousand meters above them. Up there was a cruiser with a three-destroyer escort. Two wings of fighters also flew around and patrolled.

She tapped a command into her phone. From the treeline, a low, subsonic hum began to vibrate the sand. The palms parted as a craft emerged that made our previous VTOL look like a paper airplane. It was a Vance Zenith—a liquid-metal scout ship that used the same cloaking technology as the Council’s sphere. "You had this the whole time?" I hissed at my mother. "A Banker always has a reserve, Seraphina," she said, stepping toward the craft’s ramp. "Now, load the child. We have six hours to reach the Pacific dead zone, or the 'Sovereign' will truly be a grave."

She would get a hug; Colton can go to hell, well maybe not right now as he seems like he could probably use one. As soon as we hear the door lock get slid and clicked in place, he glances back to make sure the doc has pulled down one of the folding seats and strapped himself in before he moves us on. The fleet of vehicles roar into life and two stay back to let us pass and follow. So, we’re flanked, and Colton just focuses on driving. He positions us right in the middle of the other cars as though they’re escorting some sort of president. A precious cargo who needs their protection. I guess we are. The Luna is as important as the Alpha in a pack, she’s our Queen. My need to have him say some