"Start training simulation Level 7."

The bowels of the ship groaned deeply as the training arena flickered to life, almost as though the castle itself was begrudgingly stirring from its slumber just a few hours too early. At just such a time, even its most rowdy of occupants were typically subdued, lulled to sleep by the constant whir of machinery that none of them could really explain, cocooned in the dry, crisp, cool atmosphere of recycled air reminiscent of the commercial planes in the days of old Earth...the spotless expanse of the castle's interior was visible only by the faint glow of the emergency lighting, enough to keep one's footing steady, but nothing more. Everything was still, quiet, save for the hum of holographic technology as the arena lit itself up.

At the command, Keith's eyes narrowed in a way too subtle to really catch from a distance, his gaze straying to one side only for a moment before honing in on the simulation in front of him. Three droids were deployed to the battlefield, but he steeled his resolve nonetheless, drawing his bayard down across his body to unsheathe the blade and positioning himself at the ready. It was how he began every fight; a moment to draw his breath, center himself.

Across from him, the droids raised their weapons, analyzing his movements. Keith shifted his back foot slightly, his grip tightening around the hilt of his bayard...and he lunged, the sound of steel resonating throughout the arena as the nearest of the programs parried his blade. He jumped backwards to put some distance between them during his recovery, and not a moment too soon – hastily, he deflected an attack from his right flank, the impact upsetting his footing briefly...he caught himself, ducking to avoid a follow-up attack from his left. He nicked the closest sentry with the tip of his bayard, but it wasn't enough to fell the hologram, and he realized his miscalculation a half-step later than he should have. In a blur of movement, he found himself suddenly rolling across the polished floor of the arena, scrambling to his feet again in time to block another attack.

"Keith, come on! You can do this...focus!"

He didn't chance another look over at the stoic physique at the outskirts of the training grounds, but the stern demand renewed his determination. He adjusted his grip on his bayard, holding it in reverse, and ducked several close-range blows from one of the droids before retaliating...he managed to land a fatal strike, but no sooner had the sentry dissolved back into data, he felt a hard blast to his back that sent him reeling again.

Groaning, he stirred, then hastily rolled out of the way moments before he was impaled by a blade...lashing out, he managed to disarm one of his remaining opponents, but the next thing he knew, he was being wrenched up by his arm.

Closing one eye in discontent, he found himself dangling limply as the sentry held him in the air by his wrist, its weapon poised. The upper level training sims were nearly twice his size, his wiry frame decidedly small in contrast to his opponents as he was thrown to the ground at their feet and kicked, curling up on his side.

"Keith...come on! Get up!"

Gritting his teeth, Keith rolled out of the way again to dodge another blow and begrudgingly obliged, getting to his feet again. He parried several attacks from both the sentries at once, though he was forced to take a step backwards each time he deflected...moving before thinking, he ducked beneath a swinging sword and drove his own weapon up into the mechanical joints of one of the drones. It short-circuited, twitching for a moment or so before dissipating entirely.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, Keith found himself with only a moment to catch his breath before the final assailant attacked him again. They fought hard, equally matched, until at last, Keith disarmed the sentry completely and, with a final heave of his blade, cleaved it in two.

As the final hologram disintegrated, the sound of labored breathing was all that was left echoing around the arena...pausing to wipe a slight trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, Keith straightened up, his expression satisfied. None of them had faced any of the training sims above Level 5 until now.

"How was that?" he inquired, draping a towel around the back of his neck as he made his way to the edge of the training floor, his black shirt damp and clinging to his frame as he approached. "For a moment there, I thought the three of them were going to be too much."

From the sidelines, Shiro offered the younger paladin a slight smile, clamping a hand down firmly upon Keith's shoulder.

"Not bad," he said, nodding. "I told you that you could do it."

In spite of his confidence, the grin Keith offered was distinctly lacking in his usual cockiness, wide and basking instead in the glow of a mentor's approval.

"Yeah," he agreed, looking up at Shiro. "You did."

Shiro nodded, but his smile faded as he did so, grip tightening just a little on Keith's shoulder. "All right. Let's get you back in there."

Faltering, Keith unfolded his arms, finding himself keenly aware of the throbbing throughout various parts of his body all of a sudden. "Wh-wha-?"

It wasn't the first demand Shiro had made of him in these situations, of course, but this time...he'd thought that this time, surely, after besting a Level 7 simulation...

Shiro's visage was stern as he gazed down upon the young man, and Keith found any voice of protest dying in his throat. Doubt clouded his features as he turned back toward the training sim, but it was laced with determination...to measure his abilities against his own expectations was rarely a chance he cared to turn down, and if Shiro had as much faith in him, well...

Ignoring the various aches about his form, he nodded firmly to Shiro before turning to head back to the center of the arena, his bayard gripped tightly at his side. His eyes drifted shut where he stood, bracing himself, and he listened for the sound of Shiro's voice nearby.

"I'm ready."

"Start training simulation Level 10!"

"Good morning, paladins!"

A few hours later, in stark contrast to the lackluster atmosphere about the dining hall, Coran was decidedly chipper. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he was always the first to enjoy an early morning start, whipping a hearty bowl of goop down in front of each of the bedraggled earthlings in his presence as he pranced the length of the long table. Lance had already fallen asleep again right there in his seat, having stumbled out of bed in little more than his pajama bottoms to attend, while Hunk was barely conscious himself, tipping the corner of his bowl forward with one finger as though hoping he could slide the food into his mouth without needing to lift his head. Beneath a tangled nest of unruly hair, Pidge was barely recognizable at his right side, her cheek propped up in one hand as she fought to keep her eyes open.

"Uuuugh!" was Lance's despairing response, but Coran was undeterred.

"Now, now! We've lots to do today, no time for the grumblies!" he exclaimed, waggling a spoon at the sullen pilot. "We're running low on some key fuel resources, we need a replacement part for the cryo-chambers, and not to mention, we're in dire need of some more ship-shiner for the castle interior. I haven't seen my reflection in the walls for weeks! Ah..."

He turned at the sound of the door sliding open nearby...Keith sauntered in and took a seat beside Lance, folding his arms across the tabletop and looking away. A few moments later, Shiro walked through as well, and Coran ran his fingers down the length of his mustache in approval.

"Well at least you two are already dressed!" he exclaimed. "Come on, eat up! Chop chop!"

"So what's the plan?" Shiro inquired, taking a seat on Keith's other side and pulling his bowl closer. "Is there anything local that we can harvest some fuel from, or do we need to make a jump?"

From the far end of the room, ruminating over the constellations beyond the high windows and finishing off the last of her own breakfast, Allura turned toward them.

"We shouldn't need to go too far," she said.

"Right!" Coran agreed. "We've picked up a strong reading from just a few galaxies away. I reckon we'll be there in a couple of – what'd'ya call 'em – earth hours."

Lance yawned widely.

"Ngh, that's great, Coran," he lamented. "Really. So like, if we've got some time to kill – why are we awake so freakin' early?"

Coran drew himself up matter-of-factly.

"Well, so we have enough time to prepare, of course!" He set his hands on his hips. "We've got to saddle up some collection equipment, prep the hangar, load up the lions...all sorts of things! Besides, it's good for you, getting up with the rest of the world once in a blue moon!"

"Uuuugh!"

"Hey, come on," Shiro reprimanded, smiling. "If we all work hard to get everything ready, I'm sure we'll have some time to spare afterwards before we reach the planet."

Lance draped his lanky frame over the back of his chair with a wistful sigh. "Yeah...time that could've been spent sleeping..."

He peered around the table expectantly, but his sentiment drew little enthusiasm from the rest of the lethargic paladins, so he jabbed Keith with his elbow a few times to prompt him. Keith groaned lowly in discontent, closing one eye and slipping his hand over his arm to block Lance's advances.

"Yeah, whatever."

There was an evident tick in Lance's eyebrow as he turned in his seat to glare at Keith, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Is that all you have to say?!"

Keith pointed his utensil at Lance's empty bowl. "If you're done, why don't you go start loading up your lion like Coran said?"

"Wh – you're not my – where do you get off – why don't you?!" Lance countered dramatically.

"Ngh...why don't you both go?" Pidge lamented, more horizontal than upright at that point (her words punctuated only by Hunk's heavy snoring).

Shiro nodded. "That's a good idea. Keith, Lance...godspeed. We'll join you when we're done eating."

"Uuuuuugh!" Lance launched himself to his feet, clearly invigorated after a full breakfast, and glared accusingly in Keith's direction as the other paladin dragged himself up as well. "Now look what you did!"

Taken aback, Keith looked around at him. "Hey – me? Why do you think this is my fault?!"

"It's always your fault, Keith! Always, every time! If I had a nickel for every time it was your fault–,"

"Go!" Shiro groaned.

The planet they had targeted did not yield quite as much bounty as Coran had hoped; it had once been a vibrant agriculture, rich in resources, but upon their arrival, it was clear that the Galra had long since come and gone, ransacking the surface for fuel and leaving little behind in their wake. Even so, it seemed that the planet had replenished itself since then, and by the time they returned to the castle, it was with a fair amount of various feldspars and crystalline minerals, not to mention a few samples of the local plant life (Hunk insisted they would make for good cooking).

"Nice work, gang," Shiro called as they began to unload their haul back on board the ship. "Let's get this stuff unpacked for Coran, then we can take five. Keith!"

Keith paused, gripping his shoulder as he set down another heavy load on the surface of the bay. Shiro patted him on the back.

"Come on," he said. "You can oversee something like this, right? Being a leader's not just about giving direction in battle."

Keith glanced up cautiously at the taller man, but Shiro's face was kindly, and subsequently, his own face broke out into a smile as well.

"Yeah," he agreed, with renewed resolve. "You're right, Shiro. Thanks."

Shiro nodded. "'Atta boy. Let's meet back in the training arena afterwards, all right?"

Keith faltered slightly, but found himself nodding again regardless, squaring his shoulders again a moment later. "Yeah..."

He watched Shiro's retreating back for a few moments, unmindful of his surroundings until Lance inadvertently bumped into him while hauling a large sack of goods, nearly dropping the entire thing in the process.

"Wh – hey! If you're gonna stand around, at least do it off to the side where you're not gonna get in the way!" Lance protested heatedly.

Keith whirled around to glare daggers at him, but then paused, Shiro's words lingering in his head. Being a leader's not just about giving direction in battle.

Taking a deep breath and conjuring patience he never knew he had, Keith fixed lance with a murderous gaze.

You can do this.

"Yeah, uh...great job...Lance," he forced out, his tone rigid. "Uhm, keep up the...good work. Here...why don't I help...too..."

Lance stared at Keith dimly for a moment, his expression non-plussed, then blinked rapidly a few times and shook his head. "Sarcasm?! Really, Keith?! Aren't you supposed to be Shiro's little protege or something?! Where do you get off giving me so much lip, huh?!"

Keith's eyes widened in mingled surprise and indignation, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Hey – I was being serious!" he shot back defensively. "Why are you so thick-headed, you idiot?!"

"Oh yeah, gee, real nice!" Lance huffed. "Here, take it! If you wanna 'help' so much!"

He shoved his load heavily into Keith's arms, and the other pilot hastened to steady his footing as the impact jarred tender ribs, closing one eye in discomfort as he glared up at Lance again. Lance, however, had already turned his nose to the air, marching briskly past Keith without a second glance.

"Hey...come back here-!"

"Yeah, uh, great job, Keith!" Lance singsonged, waving over his shoulder without turning around as he strutted off in the direction of the exit. "Keep up the good work! Here, why don't I help too!"

"Augh...great." Scowling, Keith unloaded the sack Lance had handed him onto the docking bay and then trudged back toward his lion for more...it was going to take twice as long now (or perhaps not, he reasoned, as it was entirely possible that the process would be faster now with Lance out of the way).

Even so...he found himself in no kind of rush to finish.