The briefing room buzzed with tension.

A projection of the Galra outpost hovered in the air, flickering faintly as Pidge zoomed in and out of key sectors. The entire team was gathered around the table—Shiro, Keith, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura, and you, seated near the far edge in your flowing, combat-ready Altean armor.

The mission was impossible. Or near enough.

Heavily guarded. Shielded by an ion storm. No clear way in or out without triggering a thousand alarms.

“We can’t get the lions through the storm,” Shiro said, arms crossed tightly. “If we force our way in, we risk destroying the outpost—or ourselves.”

“Not to mention we don’t know how long the codes inside will remain valid,” Pidge added. “Once they rotate them, we lose our window.”

“So we can’t brute force this,” Keith said. “And we can’t wait.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

You looked at the projection—at the storm, the labyrinth of tunnels, the pulsing node of Galra tech at the center—and then you stood.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone looked up at once.

“What?” Allura blinked. “No—wait, what are you saying?”

You stepped forward, voice calm and certain. “I’m not bonded to a lion. I’m not vital to Voltron’s formation. I’m trained in infiltration. I know how to survive inside Galra facilities. And Altean armor can withstand ion exposure better than your tech. I’m the logical choice.”

Keith was the first to speak, sharply. “That’s not the point. Logical or not, it’s suicide.”

You met his eyes. “Not if I’m fast.”

He stepped toward you, jaw tight. “We can find another way.”

“There is no other way,” you said quietly. “And we all know it.”

Shiro looked pained, but said nothing. Pidge was fidgeting with her tablet like she couldn’t stand to look up. Hunk muttered something about there having to be another plan. Lance opened his mouth to protest—but you kept going.

“You need someone who can get in without triggering alarms, pull the code data, and get out before the rotation. You don’t have time to build a stealth pod. You don’t have time to argue. But you do have me.”

“But you’re—” Allura started.

“Not fragile,” you said firmly. “I’m not just your sister, or a figurehead, or a diplomat. I trained with the warriors of Oriande. I survived Zarkon’s siege. I’ve bled for this fight. Let me do something that matters.”

The room was quiet again.

Keith stared at you like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a way to refute you. His hands were clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable.

“…When do you leave?” Shiro finally asked.

You straightened. “In one hour. I’ll take the Blade scout ship and go in solo.”

“Let me at least help you prep,” Pidge said, standing.

Keith’s voice was quiet but tense. “And if something goes wrong?”