Hey all
Welcome to this dumpster fire of a fic that I've been meaning to write ever since season 2! I attempted to pull off NaNoWriMo with this fic this year, but life gets in the way, so I'm going to go at my own pace for this!
A quick note! This fic takes place in the same headcanon universe that I constructed for my previous fic, Beautiful Minds! I might do some name drops and conduct some scenes in locations that may be familiar to some of you. If you've just gotten onto this crazy train, it's not essential to read Beautiful Minds, but it might help for clarification in regards to my world building.
Feel free to come talk at me on my tumblr thepigeoning
Welcome aboard the crazy train, there ain't no getting off!
Space stretched out before Pidge. Strewn within the boundless expanse were stars, planets, and nebulas, some so far away that they were barely visible.
A star burned brightly to portside, and several planets were racing in their orbits all around. Despite the entire universe being safe now, Pidge still felt tense about the prospect of a Galra Cruiser that might be around any corner.
Post-war jitters.
Maybe that's why wearing her light, ceremonial armor, she felt vulnerable. The breastplate was too thin to do any real protecting, and the bracers didn't have any tech in them. The only functional piece was the bayard holster.
She fiddled with the bracer's gilded edge.
They were on radio silence at the moment, so the cockpit was silent, save for the annoying foot tapping of the other occupant.
Pidge side-eyed her companion.
Tall. Impossibly slim, with an impossibly small waist. He had a long neck that serviced an angular head. His shocking gold eyes were enormous. His snowy skin gave way to raven black hair, pleated tightly down his back.
His annoying foot tapping was going to drive her insane. But Allura had warned Pidge to 'Be courteous. It is imperative that we maintain relations with the Princes. This escort mission has to be seamless.'
He didn't look like he realised he was bothering her. His abnormally huge eyes were glued to the tablet in his hands, flicking back and forth as he read the contents.
All the while, his foot tapped away.
The foot tapping offender was also known as Prince Jelte deHaed, a member of the Ioden race. The title was misleading, of course. Pidge had done her research. The Ioden were a race of information hoarders, and to them, knowledge literally was power. The more information an individual contributed to the Ioden Library, the higher up the ranks said individual could climb.
Pidge cleared her throat, quite pointedly, but the tapping continued. He was completely engrossed, golden eyes scanning, heedless of her.
More tapping.
Tapping.
Tap.
They had another week of travel to go; traveling by wormhole was too noticeable.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap tap.
"So…" Pidge said suddenly, and much louder than she intended. "You're a scholar?"
The Prince's eyes flicked up. "I am a Prince. I was a Scholar a few decapheobes ago, when my Focus Study began yielding new information."
"Meaning?"
He turned off the tablet, looking up and leaning back in the chair. "My assigned subject of study, my life's work, is creating an account of the history of the Galra Empire."
"Oh." That was what the whole mission was about, of course. Pidge reminded herself. Escort Prince Jelte safely back to the Ioden homeworld, so he could complete the records on the crumbled Galra Empire, and bring a conclusion to his Focus Study.
Pidge sank in her seat a little.
"Up until recently, my work was considered a lowly task, since no true development had taken place for centuries. I once contributed pitifully little to the Ioden Library, but I do believe that I owe my recent success to Voltron, and its Paladins."
"Glad we can help…" Pidge said, feeling her sentiment became awkwardly stilted. She trailed off, and Prince Jelte went back to reading his tablet.
This was going to be a very long escort mission.
They were passing by a small planet now – turquoise all over, with veins of white mountains that carved the landscape.
Pidge flicked a communication screen up. "Keith, check in."
The screen was small, and the angle was shifting erratically around her fellow paladin. She had the link connected with Fido, a hoverbot, but its learning algorithm was still getting the hang of straying from Pidge.
Fido had a habit of getting distracted by geometric patterns. Usually the little bot would start beeping and humming little ditties if Pidge wasn't there to get it back on track. She was unsure if it was an emerging personality or just a glitch.
Keith was counting the ship's reserves. They had to stop for oxygen refills and other supplies at the halfway marker of their journey, which was a planet Pidge calculated to be half hour off yet.
"We have a day left for oxygen. We have enough food for four days, and everything else has about two days left." Fido bumped into the Red Paladin's forehead, whirring excitedly. Keith pushed the little robot back gently, arm's length away. "Stay right there, little guy."
Pidge grinned into her hand.
"We'll be at the station in a bit. Can you do a general check of the engine room before you switch out with me for landing?"
"Ya, no problem." Keith ducked down, slipping through the low door out of the supply room. Pidge lost visual on him for a moment until Keith poked his head back in the room and beckoned Fido to follow.
Fido excitedly bumbled after Keith, beeping and whistling a demented little tune. His motion tracking was thrown off every time Keith flicked those fuzzy ears.
Pidge could see their goal ahead of them – a heavily forested planet known as Erobine. It was home to a well-known port that had a shiny exterior that catered to economic high riders, but the underbelly was pitted and blackened by the more 'affordable' markets.
She leaned back in the captain's chair, easing lazily at the controls.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Pidge huffed, lolling her head off to the side out of boredom. Just a few minutes before Keith would be done checking on the engine, and she could take a backseat and enjoy herself.
Tap.
Tap tap.
Pidge couldn't take it anymore. She bolted up, shooting a glare at the Prince. "Could you please stop that?"
Jelte looked up and shrugged.
Pidge opened her mouth once more, but was suddenly thrown out of her seat by a resounding BOOM that shook the entire shuttle. Her head smacked on the console, and she reeled away with a shout.
Prince Jelte was on the floor, shocked and panting sharply. Pidge told him to stay down as she pulled herself back up into the pilot's chair.
"Keith! Status Report! The hell is happening down there?"
No video feed. Just skitzing audio that was heavy with static, and what Pidge hoped to God wasn't the crack of flame.
"Yah, something bust… I… *sh* fucked… *fzzztttt*"
"Can you fix it?"
The next statement came over clear. "I'm a fucking pilot!"
"Okay… guess not." Pidge grimaced. "Get out of the engine room and –" another tremor ran through the shuttle – "just get up here."
"Copy."
Pidge took the controls in her hands with a white-knuckle grip, clenching her jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Prince moving across the floor to retrieve his tablet. She barked at him. "Jelte, stay down, dammit!"
The shuttle was listing dangerously. Indicators were flashing and squealing at her, trying to tell all at once what was wrong.
"Shit!"
Buttons weren't going to help her now. The port thruster was trash. And forget about the starboard – the entire engine block was offline.
The distance to Erobine was still far too great, with the ship rapidly depressurising.
Out of options.
"Prince Jelte, hold tight."
"To what?!"
"Anything!"
Pidge cranked down on a lever with her full weight - manually unlocking the air brakes. Next, the sputtering starboard thruster is put out of its misery – plunging the shuttle straight towards the turquoise planet.
She threw open Fido's feed again.
"Keith, forget about the cockpit. Hunker down."
"Copy."
God, his voice sounded terrible. The available feed that peered through every few seconds was just the view of Keith's elbow – Fido was being carried.
Pidge battled the shakiness out of her voice. "I'm making an emergency landing. How do I slow us down?"
Keith's breathing shuddered dangerously over the feed. Even through the static, Pidge could hear it. "You're insane."
"Keith…" Pidge grit out through her teeth.
"Fine!" Keith barked. "You hav-vvvvtt put the tail counter to orbit. Once you're in the *atmosphssssssfpzt* air brakes."
"Heh, that's it?"
"Just don't *ffzzzttt* killed."
"Copy."
So going ass to the wind wasn't exactly the best idea in the world – both in the literal and figurative sense here– Pidge should have remembered that she was dealing with the most compulsive pilot in the known universe.
One that also flunked out of the Galaxy Garrison a year earlier than her.
When the air brakes were torn from the wings of the shuttle, and they were heading straight for shitsville, Pidge yanked back on the joystick.
The nose of the shuttle bucked up to the sky, and the wings caught the air.
The shuttle jolted violently.
The metal screeched in protest, and the chassis shuddered.
"Just hold on." Pidge urged the shuttle, gripped the controls.
"…I am…" Jelte said hoarsely.
Jesus… Pidge grimaced.
She could barely see where she was going now, now that the front window was only giving her red sky and mountain peaks.
All of the ranges ran horizontally across the planet's scape, so they were lucky to have a long landing strip. The probability of hitting a mountain was a tentative 38% - she wasn't sure about atmospheric density on this planet.
Either way, they were barreling at high speed into a treed mountain valley somewhere, gathering flames as they tore the atmosphere a new one.
This was all she could do.
"Keith, are you braced?"
"Mos*shss*ly"
"Jelte?" She locked eyes with the prince across the cockpit. The small belt was strapped across his lap like Pidge had, and his hands were gripping tight to the armrests. The best he could do – there was nothing else in the shuttle.
He nodded joltingly.
Pidge swallowed.
Sorry, Allura. This escort mission might not be too smooth.