14 August 2218
The Galaxy Garrison: Legendary Defenders Division, New Altea
A lot of things had changed since the war's end two deca-phoebs prior; not just with Voltron's current Paladins, but the surrounding coalitions. Paladin Hunk had singlehandedly created a culinary empire known to many as 'Hunk's Table' With the aid of his many, many chefs, the empire was formed as a way to bring everyone together, one meal at a time, under the philosophy that full stomachs bring happy lives. Because, as Hunk was fond of saying, people are so much easier to negotiate with when they're full.
Paladin Lance, on the other hand, was more than content to stay home and lead a simple life amongst family and friends. Toiling away in the fields of flowers that reminded him of the love he had lost, the blue paladin was often seen either amongst the altean flowers or chatting to the classes that came to toured the gardens and listened to stories of Allura & the messages that Lance spread to those who asked. Surrounded by reminders of Allura, Lance was content.
In bit of a one-eighty, Paladin Keith embraced his Galra heritage and helped to transition The Blade of Marmora into a humanitarian relief organisation. When the Galactic Coalition tried to elect him as their leader, he quickly stepped back and opted for an election instead. In the end, Keith's teacher, Kolivan, and his mother, Krolia, became the Galra representatives to the Galactic Coalition. Keith seemed to be settling into his new role anyhow; relaxing into the brotherly figure that quite a few of those around him had painted him to be (it was always funny whenever someone brought it up or mentioned it, because Keith got all flustered and red-faced, just like when they were younger. Pidge & Lance had practically made it into a game at this point).
Paladin Shiro eventually found happiness, specifically the arms of an IGF-Atlas bridge crew member by the name of Curtis. They were married beneath a rose-gold sky, surrounded by friends & family some deca-phoebs after the war's end. It was a lovely day and they were now parents to a beautiful baby girl who was clearly doted on by both of them. Having finally left the throes of battle behind—though still mourning Adam's death—the eldest paladin and (former) leader of Voltron was now a well-deserved retiree. Sporting a head of altean white hair, their "Space Dad" had quite literally, become the old man he was inside.
As the former advisor to both King Alfor & Princess-slash-Queen Allura and guiding hand to the Paladins of Voltron, it seemed like a no-brainer for Coran to take up the mantle as New Altea's leading lady (so to speak). With the last of the royal line gone, there was no one left to take up the mantle as "King" or "Queen", leaving the loyal advisor to do so. No one could argue that he was unfit, having served for both father and daughter in deca-phoebs past (he was also a rather eccentric king, but that was a given). Speaking of the former ruler, Allura was now memorialised in their stories and the huge marble statue that stood centre stage in the Memorial Park. Surrounded by a sea of flowers that were grown on Lance's family farm, the figure in white was a popular place for not people to come & remember their loved & lost ones, but to also gaze upon the might of their hero. It was also a good place for picnics and watching the sun set/rise.
In turn, the Holt family had established a reputable business as the galaxy's defenders; raising each new generation with the same zeal and attitudes as their inaugural class and the Paladins whom inspired it. In fact, it had even grown to the point that they were now able to expand to other planets within the Galactic Coalition where smaller, but similar outposts had been set up. With all this new technology, knowledge of the stars and the brains to do so, the Galaxy Garrison was now spreading across the stars in their venture to explore and protect, at a much faster rate than before.
The Legendary Defenders Division had grown quite well in the last two deca-phoebs since the war's end; Pidge too, actually. Katherine "Katie" Holt—or Paladin Pidge, as she was most known by these days—was one of the lead engineers at the Galaxy Garrison's outpost on New Altea. Whilst her own family ran the division on Earth, only a small teludov teleport away (where her brother, Matthew, found himself suddenly fending off suitors left, right and centre), Pidge ran the one on Altea; having followed after the Lions when they had left to protect the new planet.
The other paladins may have been able to let their Lions go, but Pidge hadn't been able to break that bond so easily. Unable to say goodbye to Green—to the last slid piece of Allura and her own memories/times as a paladin—that she had, so the youngest Holt had followed the Lions to New Altea. At the very least, she still got to see Lance who tended to the fields there and Keith, when he occasionally stopped by to visit. Still, the paladins made it a point to gather together every year on Allura's birthday so that they could celebrate together. Picnicking beneath the stars and the giant marble statue (who, according to Pidge, was the sister she never wanted), they mourned another year with her gone.
Thankfully, Pidge's father had finally finalised the teludov technology to work in concert with the earthen ones that they already had in their possession, which meant that they were now able to go further; reach further and explore farther than ever before. Although, it had quickly become apparent after several (abusive) uses of the technology that no matter how integrated into their systems it was or how little they had, the demand for more was all-consuming. As such, the price for such a resource rose exponentially thanks to the scarceness of it and those who were brave—stupid—enough to harvest it.
Which was why Pidge was currently stood in the hangar in 40 degree (celsius) weather, with her jumpsuit tied around her hips, Olkari devices clipped to their appropriate limbs (gifts from her recent apprenticeship, slimmed down to appease her asethetical desires) and was sweating like a pig as she argued with another one of her fellow engineers. Jahavus Dorahl was a good fellow; hard-headed and quick-witted, a lot like Pidge, herself. Which was what made him such a good sounding board and a partner in crime; more often than not, the two could be seen twirling around each other as they bounced ideas off of each other and bickering in a way that seemed almost familial. It was almost to the point where it was strange to see one without the other.
Not long back after her recent apprenticeship under the Olkari, Pidge could confidently say that she had a better understanding of the space around them. Teachings granted to few outsiders (for the Olkari closely guarded their knowledge like a dragon guarded its hoard); ones that her mentor, Ryner, had tried (& succeeded) to plant in her on that first day they had met all those deca-phoebs ago (she'd also gained a greener thumb, over the deca-phoebs). Which was why she just couldn't seem to grasp how Jahavus hadn't gotten it into his head that dysonium—whilst infinitely cheaper and easier to resource—was an untested and highly unstable fuel source. And this idiota wanted to switch from teludov—a more expensive, but highly reliable—technology, to that? No, she just couldn't understand; not when teludov technology had served them so well thus far. (She also adamantly refused to acknowledge the idea that her refusal had something to do with the fact that she felt like she was betraying Allura, if they did eventually switched resources).
"…But we have no dysonium fuel crystals!" Pidge argued, throwing her hands up in the air. It was an age-old argument at this point; they both knew that they had the means just not the go-ahead from the head engineer (Pidge) to make one.
"So, we mine the resources on this planet and create a new crystal!" Jahavus retorted, just as irate. "We already have the site located and the tools to mine it! Why're you being such a lankin [blowhard] about this?!"
"Oh, I'm being the lankin, am I?" Pidge huffed, hands on hips. "You & I both know that crystalline fusion is highly unstable—!"
"—Then we test it!" He interjected.
"No! It's too dangerous! Besides, manufacturing a dysonium crystal that's capable of hyper-drive is like…like trying to lasso the sun! And then someone would need to attach that sun to a dinky little razzo, and then that ship would need someone stupido enough to fly it without blowing themselves to venga il regno!" Pidge ranted, gesturing wildly as a fond smile twitched at Jahavus' lips. You could always tell when the young paladin got heated or passionate about something because she tended to pepper her words with those of her mothertongue. "Who in their right mind would…?"
"…" Jahavus' fond smile quickly morphed into something more mischievous and cunning as he watched his companion's face fall as understanding dawned.
"…Oh. Oh! Oh no, no, no, no!"
"C'me on!"
"No!"
"I bet you…"
"Hm?" Pidge perked up, curiosity peaking her interest at the yet fully unproposed bet.
"…Gulliver's Knife that if the dysonium crystal can and will make it to hyper-drive"
"From the last Swap Moons trip?! But that thing must've cost a thousand GACs!"
"Exactly" Jahavus nodded succinctly, more than willingly to put up the valuable black market blade if it meant furthering not only the sciences, but reaching further out into space. Winning this little bet was just an extra bonus. "So, if I win, we switch sources"
"And if I win?" Pidge hedged. She was by no means a professional pilot, (having been self-taught by a couple of war-worn alteans and a mechanical green lion) but that didn't mean she was going to sacrifice someone else to undertake that dangerous venture in her place. She was still a paladin, afterall.
"If you somehow win, then you get Gulliver's Knife"
"…But you love that knife!"
"I do"
"…Fine! Fine! I'll fly the damn thing!"
"YES!" Jahavus cheered, pumping his fist up in the air in celebration.
"BUT!" Pidge cut in before he could get too overjoyed or ahead of himself, "But! We'll only switch if I can make some successful trips into hyper-drive"
"One successful trip" Jahavus bargained, quickly coming down from his earlier high.
"A good test is always the best of threes" Pidge reminded him, "Do you doubt the capabilities of your new fuel source?"
"No! It's not that! We just don't know how much dysonium is needed yet, and we could burn through it all in these tests alone! One successful trip into hyper-drive is all we need"
"Fine! One successful trip and we switch"
"It's a bet!"
20 August 2219
The Galaxy Garrison: Legendary Defenders Division, New Altea
After a full deca-phoeb since that infamous bet's inception, the Garrison's specialised crew had been hard at work putting this planet's vast resources into incredible use. First, mining the planet for the desired dysonium, then constructing the hefty launchpads that had not been used since the early days (they had had to consult the history books for that one) and later developing the stable formulas to test it. Even though Pidge had been against the idea at first, she couldn't deny the excitable atmosphere which had grabbed ahold of the people—the engineers & scientists, especially—when the news had reached their ears.
Until, finally their first hyper-drive test was given the green light. Trussed up in the Garrison's (new) standard issue flight gear instead of the form fittings of the altean paladin suit that she had grown so used to, felt odd; especially after being away from the cockpit for so long. But at least the young paladin felt content in knowing that her new suit (a combination of earthen nanotechnology, altean technology and olkarion teachings) would be taking its maiden voyage along with the dysonium crystal she was now about to test. Embedded in the tissue that traced the length of her spine, Pidge would now forever be adorned in the suit for as long as she lived. She stood in the cybernetic suit that might have of been a step too far; like a parasite, the tech clung to her, forming a second skin that warped and moved as she did.
It learned as she did and most of all, it protected her just as her old paladin suit had done; with a few added tweaks of her own design, of course. When dormant, the thing was no more than a small bump settled between her shoulders (if it had taken on the form of Green's shield thanks to her neuro-connection with the tech, then who was she to complain?). But when active, Pidge looked like the humanoid version of Green's cub and the paladin couldn't help but revel in the comfortable irony of it all. Garbed in a sleek design of figure-fitting armour that slid over whichever underclothes she happened to be wearing, the suit was something to behold and it was a hard notion to deny that she was Green's cub; particularly with some of the (unnecessary) additions. (Although if the amused purr in her head was anything to go by, then Green was happy with the homage, however unintentional it may have of been).
The breastplate gripped tight to her chest, protecting her from any untoward advances whilst the backplate that ran along her spine did the same, before splitting out around her torso like metallic ribs and flared at her hips. There was even a long tail that protruded from the end of the armour on occasion, swishing to & fro behind her like it had a mind of its own. The taser-slash-torch on the end of it was just an added benefit. Her normally rounded sabatons bore slits of green where claws tended to extend when flexed, matching those of her blackened gloves. The lower half of the visor—the part that usually materialised to fully enclose the helmet in oxygen-deficient environments—was accented by two triangular "fangs" whilst the crown of the helmet bore two triangular ears. Painted in swathes of matted silver, forest green, ashen black and pulsating slips of blue tucked into every nook & cranny, she really did look like Green's cub.
Coran had theorised that the resulting product was likely due to her relationship with quintessence, when she had mentioned it to him. A sound argument, if there ever was one. Quintessence had affect the each of the paladins in different ways over the deca-phoebs (you didn't spend several deca-phoebs around it, without being affected by it). Shiro, of course, had his new prosthetic arm, a sixth sense that was insanely accurate and a crown of hair that had been bleached altean white (although, that might have of been due to the extreme stress he had experienced during his time in the Galra camps). Keith, part Galra as he was, grew into those aesthetics quite well; toe beans popping up on his fingertips and pretty eyes which had taken on a golden hue.
Lance had been granted altean markings by Allura on the day of her death, some deca-phoebs ago, but they all knew that they had been growing in on their own anyway. He spent the most around the quintessence, afterall, wrapped up in their Princess-turned-Queen, the most. Hunk was practically a druid-in-the-making with the way he created all of those delicious alien dishes, creating feasts to bring everyone together with the wave of his whisk. And then there was Pidge, who had wound herself so closely with Green's soul in their time together, that she had become more feline than human without her even noticing. Oh well, the boys—her brothers, her Pride—had always said that she was more like a cat than any of them.
Admittedly, Pidge hadn't particularly wanted to be a paladin in the beginning, far more content to find her family and go home. But as the quintants had worn on, she found herself worn down by overprotective & nosy companions, until finally an attack on the castleship showed her just how far she would go to protect those she cared about. And just how quickly those she cared about, had stretched to include three overprotective & nosy brothers (Lance, Hunk & Keith), one Space Dad (Shiro), an eccentric uncle (Coran) and a sister that she never wanted (Allura). Pidge hadn't even noticed it happening, but now she knew that she would never change it for the world.
Still, Pidge couldn't dent that she had missed this feeling; this feeling of excitable nerves before a launch. Of the grating screech of armoured plates as they rubbed up against each other, of the incessant chatterings as her co-pilots jumped into their own ships & readied for take-off and of the sickeningly sour scent of the engines firing up. She had missed this no matter what she said otherwise (one look at her fond smile could tell you that). Her only hang-up was that she would not be flying with the Green Lion (who had gone into "retirement" some deca-phoebs ago, instead guarding this new planet of her people) and instead, the young paladin would be piloting one of their own design.
Yes, Pidge missed flying with Green most of all.