You are reading Chapter 1 of "Rocketeer" by thelyingqueen. In each chapter, there will be a brief review of the previous chapter for your viewing convenience as you wait for future chapters to release. For now, there is no prior information to disclose. Enjoy!
Recommended Song: "Run" - Daughter
CHAPTER ONE: BUT THE FIRE IS COMING
A pair of heavy feet stormed down the empty white hallway, each footstep echoing with renewed frustration. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply, his mind swarming with anger as if his thoughts were hornets in a hive, and his heart was aflame. Fluorescent blue lights lining the walls in the enormous spacecraft were his only guide to any destination, because he didn't exactly know where his feet were taking him. As he pounded down the monochrome halls, he almost failed to notice that a certain short specimen had begun to cross his path. Stopping abruptly, his blue-grey eyes gleamed as he met faces with them. His whole body stiffened, his shoulders becoming rigid and his legs freezing, yet his face fell.
"Woah, Keith!" Pidge quickly backed away from the hurricane of anger, holding up her hands in makeshift defense.
Keith averted his eyes from hers. "Hi," was all that came out, and it was released low and sharp; not exactly the most welcoming greeting, but he wasn't yelling, thankfully.
"Are.. are you okay?" she asked, still very cautious about his movements.
"Fine," Keith replied, but he had continued to thump his way down the seemingly endless hallways, destination still unknown. He was trying to work off steam, or at the very least, calm down. Filing through peaceful locations or places where he could flush out some of his anger, the training wing came to mind. He probably needed to train anyway, so he figured he might as well use his time to both vent his emotions and improve his fighting capabilities. Normally, he'd keep to a tight schedule that wasn't too gruesome nor too simple, but now he simply went whenever he wanted, not bothering to listen too much to what the others had to say, even if he should. Inside, he knew that he needed to talk to the other paladins, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't understand why he wouldn't let himself just be open; if he was, all of these stupid problems could have been avoided. He shoved his hand through his thick scruffy hair, messing it up further in some kind of calming motion, although it wasn't of much help. Events from the previous day were still fresh in his mind, and he hadn't been able to catch a wink of sleep with the sheer amount of pressure on his shoulders. He had been plagued with insomnia all throughout the night, and it was as if the past two days had been one huge, intolerable extended nightmare.
Yesterday, the team was performing a Voltron drill, courteous of Allura's worrisome demands, flying around the expanse of space in loose formation to form a united bond and conjure up the legendary robot. They melded together without any issue, each Lion clicking into place with godlike precision, gears churning and grinding into place as the machine took form while their minds became closer and closer until each other's heartbeat was as familiar as their own. However, keeping the mechanical miracle monster together was another problem, for every member felt a peculiar aura that clogged the minds of both Lion and paladin. It was Hunk who was first to point out the interruption.
"Uh, what's this weird feeling? I feel kind of like I want to hit something." Hunk flexed his fingers inside the Yellow Lion, more in confusion than actual aggression. He raised his head and stared up at the ceiling in thought, glancing at his control system for any flaw that could be causing it, as well as reaching out to Yellow to see if he was upset, too.
Pidge squinted a bit, confused as well, her fingers drumming across the primary access board in her cockpit, careful to avoid pressing any buttons accidentally. "But you aren't much of a hitter. Uh, no offense, though."
"None taken," he casually responded, leaning back into his seat. "Punching is, like, a Lance thing."
"Hey! I'm your sharpshooter, remember? Well, anyway, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But I had fantastic dreams last night," Lance hummed, wiggling his eyebrows as he spoke, "So it can't be me."
"Shiro?" Pidge inquired hesitantly, knowing that the owner of the Black Lion had been listening in despite his stark silence.
"Focus, team. There's no need to point fingers," Shiro replied calmly, sighing ever so slightly at the childishness of the situation. "Voltron, disband!"
Each member swiftly released one another, and began to fly their lions down towards their individual hangers. After putting them away, safe and sound, they all took a fraction of time to show their Lions a little affection before heading back inside. Once the paladins had gathered in the main center of the Castle of Lions, where Coran tapped away at the control center and Allura monitored the map nearby, they sat down upon singular chairs and more or less commenced an informal meeting. Shiro was the first to make a declaration, stepping forward, his boots clanking on the smooth metal floor with each step he took. Although he didn't appear nervous himself, the others were somewhat worried. They hadn't experienced difficulty in forming Voltron in a very long time.
Shiro didn't let this uncertainty simmer for long, though. "Alright, so we all noticed that some pretty strong emotions were hitting us all pretty hard. I do not want to pin blame on any of you, so I trust that you won't either." With that stated, the group became noticeably calmer. Even Pidge slouched backward, having been sitting painfully straight on her chair. "For now, let's focus on taking some time to reconnect with our lions. Remember that your bonds with both your team and your lion are crucial in order to successfully form Voltron," he explained, repeating information that everyone was familiar with, but none of them were bothered by the reminder. "I expect great things from all of you. That's enough for today," Shiro closed his small speech with a sweeping clap of his hands, grabbing his helmet and mumbling something about heading to the showers, leaving the remaining paladins to their own devices. They looked at each other fleetingly, eyes darting from one face to another. A curtain of awkwardness hung over the room, but after a minute or two of silence, one of them spoke up.
"I'm going to clean up and then spend some time cleaning Green. She worked hard today," Pidge said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she went to walk off after Shiro. While she did want to take some time to talk and bond with her Lion, she also wanted to get away from the situation at hand.
"We all worked hard today," Keith mumbled, sounding somewhat upset. It wasn't necessarily Pidge's comment that had him in sore spirits, although it certainly did not provide him any comfort.
Pidge flinched, taken somewhat aback by the sudden snap. "R-Right." She quickly trotted away, seeming a little less than reluctant to exit the intoxicating mood of the room. Keith looked remorseful, but his face remained pointed downward.
"Wow, Keith. That was just low," Lance scorned, his eyes glistening with newfound anger.
"Just shut up!" Keith barked, his arms crossing further, his eyebrows furrowing deeper still. Hunk shifted uncomfortably in his seat, folding inwardly.
"No, you shut up! We all know it was you who screwed up our syncho-..synchro-.. whatever!" He was definitely adding insult to injury, if somewhat idiotically.
"Synchronization," Hunk provided to his vocabulary-challenged friend.
"Yeah! Our synchronization! Why are you always throwing a fit, anyway?" Lance snapped, spit flying.
"I am not always throwing a fit. Speak for yourself, Lance! All you do is brag about yourself and the Blue Lion! That, or your whining about girls!" He bit back. "Oh, I'm Lance, I'm so perfect, look at me!" Keith mocked, flailing his arms around in birdlike motions.
"Oh, I'm the one who is always whining? You're always throwing glares at us like we're idiots!" Lance retorted, "And I do not talk like that!"
Keith sneered. "You are idiots, and you always act like that!"
"Hey," Hunk interjected, now standing up, a frown imprinted on his face. Neither boy had noticed him move, and were momentarily flustered. "Stop fighting. This isn't helping anyone. Keith, I'm sorry, man, but you really freaked out Pidge back there. And being called an idiot isn't the best feeling, either," he commented, trying to cool down the two hotheads as well as the blustering situation.
Keith went completely quiet before speaking up in a lower, somewhat more relaxed tone. "I-.. I'm sorry. I know this is my fault," he stammered, but he still did not give the others a chance to reply before mumbling, "See you later."
Lance and Hunk were temporarily dumbfounded, watching him stalk out of the room, noticing that the room's overhang of discomfort moved alongside him. Neither of them knew what to say to the other, and both had realized that they had been placed in a very ugly position. Hunk only gave Lance a stiff nod, to which Lance understood, although he didn't want to get burnt by Keith's enraged flames again. He really didn't enjoy it when they fought; who would? Words just tumbled out of his mouth, and a ridiculous quarrel suddenly transforms into a verbal war. He didn't mean to hurt Keith, and he hoped that Keith didn't mean to hurt everyone else. His emotions were just so intoxicating, especially with everyone being so closely bonded during Voltron formation practices. So, Lance gathered his spirits and steadily walked across the cold floor, feet shuffling as he fought to keep a quick pace in order to catch up to Keith. His eyes wandered around nervously, breathing in the aquamarine wall lights and black metal, the massive silver doors, and the occasional sound of them opening with a whoosh.
"Why are you following me? Did you want to lecture me more?" Keith snapped, spinning around to face Lance. His words had a lot of bite to them, but his eyes had a sullen droop to them that made it difficult to return his abrasiveness. His deep eyes had a signification slouch that was so strong, a sense of exhaustion flooded him.
He hesitated. "I.. wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry for what I said back there," Lance apologized fitfully, a bead of sweat threatening to run down the side of his forehead. He couldn't help but wonder if Keith had always been this intimidating. His fingers fumbled with his suit so as to provide him some kind of calming distraction.
"Oh," he replied slowly and lowly, rising up from his heavy coma of frustration. "Uh, I'm.. sorry for what I said, too."
A very, very awkward silence consumed the room, making both boys feel weighted down in their own skin, until Lance had the courage to pipe up again, prompted by a raised eyebrow from the dark-haired male.
"Uh, well, I just thought you might want to talk to someone.. or something?" he blundered, trying to form sentences that didn't want to form.
Now it was Keith's turn to become nervously surprised, and strangely offended. "You aren't my babysitter," he grimaced, but at least it wasn't as harsh as before. His shoulders were slumped, his red-striped helmet perched against one hip. He looked horrible, his face sullen and his body aching from something other than physical exertion.
Lance looked at him darkly, angry once again. "Right, sorry, I forgot that you're too good for me. Excuse me, Mr. Perfect." He rotated on his toes and spun around, but as he lifted his leg to take a step away, a small yelp stopped him right where he stood.
"No! No, I mean- I'm sorry, okay? I've.. got a lot on my mind," Keith relented, his right hand now hanging loosely onto his left arm, his fingers barely clinging to his helmet. The helmet swung gently back and forth, only a few feet from the floor.
"No kidding," Lance replied softly, his expression growing somewhat kinder, although his face was still somewhat heated from the argument.
Silence hungrily ate up the room once again, its long fingers picking at them both.
"Talk to your Lion," Lance sputtered, mouth moving without his brain's consent.
Keith began to reply mid-sentence before actually listening to what the other boy had said. "I.. What?"
"Talk to your Lion. It'll help," Lance repeated, more confidently this time. "Whenever I get really mad or whatever, I talk to Blue. She helps me work stuff out."
"Oh. Um, thanks," Keith returned, still a little uncomfortable. He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet before quickly adding, "Bye."
"Right. Um, bye," Lance waved back, taking a few steps before rapidly turning around to face Keith. "And.. Keith?"
"Hm?" Keith hummed.
"Feel better, man."
Keith only nodded in response, and the two boys proceeded to walk in different directions. As his footsteps resounded through the empty halls, a pathetic little smile spread across his features and his eyes glowed in the slightest way. He was truly grateful for Lance's advice, and sincerely wished he could thank him for it in a more polite and honest manner. However, Keith knew it wouldn't be that simple. He had so much on his mind, which included his origins, his relationship with Red, his relationship with the other paladins, as well as several other worries that weren't even concerned with himself, directly. He worried about Shiro, Allura, and Coran, as ridiculous as that seemed. He wondered about what would happen once they defeated Zarcon, and if that was even possible. Would anyone want him around anymore? What about the Blade of Mormora? Where was Keith even from, and what if he truly was half-Galra? Would his teammates still allow him to be part of Voltron?
That brings us to Keith and his current situation. After panicking himself to sleep, he woke up with a splitting headache due to having some of the most horrific nightmares he'd had in a very long time, violently awakening with a thick coat of sweat dripping off of himself, his own screams clouding his vision. As soon as his pod came into view, he began to calm down slowly, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His lungs felt like fire, his body aching with each movement, and his eyes felt heavier than ever before.
So now he stalks down the hallway, having screamed at Pidge once again and feeling all kinds of horribleabout it, storming his way through the Castle as if there was no tomorrow. Part of him wondered if there would be a tomorrow, on top of all sorts of existential crises that couldn't be explained. Slav's theory about multiple realities must be getting to him.
Meanwhile, someone else clad in a blue and silver suit is hot on his trail, and he does not look happy.
"KEITH!" Lance shouted, grabbing him square on the shoulder and spinning him around so that his deep blue eyes scorched Keith's own. He could feel the heat of those eyes on him so strongly that he feared his own skin might melt. "I just saw Pidge. She was so freaked out! Again! Somehow, you managed to make her think that it's her fault you're such a-" he suddenly stopped, looking closer at Keith's expression. He looked devastated, water and salt still stinging his eyes, this time with new vigor.
But, that moment of vulnerability didn't last long. Keith firmly grabbed Lance's arm, shoving it off of him in a rough and quick movement. He could hear Lance saying his name, more softly than before, but he wasn't listening. His mind was racing with countless thoughts, all of them threatening to overtake him at any moment. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Lance or Pidge or anyone, and he was disgusted with himself for letting his mind spiral out of control.
"I'm going to talk to Red, okay?! I'm doing exactly what you told me to! So.. So go tell Pidge I am so sorry, and that I never meant to hurt her, and none of this is her fault!" Keith shouted back, rambling desperately over words he wanted to be right, overwhelmed with the stress that oozed in his veins like molten lava.
He disappeared behind a set of doors, leaving Lance to listen to the high-pitched whoosh of them swiftly opening and closing. He was speechless...
...but not motionless.