Among the Stars: Part One - Taking Off

by The Lord of Chaos

Keith's not sure why no one else remembers their past lives, but he's pretty sure that he's not crazy. Lance totally doesn't have crushes on any of the guys who occasionally distract him from his studies. Hunk's pretty sure one of his roommates is breaking several laws. And Katie's going to find out what happened to her family, even if she has to become an international criminal.

3. Warming Up

Summary: Pidge breaks a few (dozen) laws.

A/N: Three chapters in three weeks? Yeah, don't get used to that.

Warming Up

---

Spring quarter ended with Lance listed in the top three on the pilot's board.

"Did your class lose any fighter pilots in first year?" Lance asked after their flight home had taken off. They had two weeks between Spring and Summer quarter and the both of them were excited to go home.

"No," Veronica said. "But there were, like, three in Junior year. Don't worry about it though. There's nothing you can do until it happens."

"I can be ready if a slot opens up," Lance said.

"Well, keep practicing," Veronica said. "You'll be at the top of the rankings soon enough."

"They're going to want to give me the flight aptitude test again," Lance said.

"You'll do better," Veronica said.

"Yeah, but what if I don't?" Lance asked.

"Then you'll be the best support pilot in the Garrison," Veronica said.

That wouldn't be good enough, Lance thought.

Luis was back from college, and after his Junior year in Business Administration, he seemed to think he knew everything about running the hotel. Papá had given him a Summer project to increase room service sales. It was already gearing up to be a heavy season, and Lance and Veronica were given their own tasks as well, after the party, of course.

It was a week into vacation when the Heracles landed on Kerberos. Lance and Veronica gathered the twins and watched the footage of the landing that had been sent back. They wouldn't get any footage of the first Kerberos moonwalk until the following day though, which Lance couldn't wait for.

Except there wasn't any footage the following day. No real explanation either, not that day or the day after that. They were talking about possible systems problems and electromagnetic interference on the news, but it was clear it was all speculation. The Heracles had gone dark and Lance had gone tense inside waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Two days before he was set to fly back to the Garrison, Lance was woken up by the twins. Rolando had tears running down his cheek while Camila was clutching onto the cat like it was a teddy bear.

"Hey guys, what's wrong?" Lance asked.

Camila stayed quiet while Rolando gave a hiccuping "They're dead!" which had Lance shooting up and grabbing his phone, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Who's dead?" Lance asked, already dialing 911.

"The Heracles crew," Rolando said. "The television said that they're dead."

Lance heard a voice on his phone.

"Sorry," he said. "False alarm." He hung up.

He sat back down on the bed a bit relieved, though that only lasted a moment.

"Do you have to go into space?" Camila asked.

"You guys," Lance gathered them into a hug. "That's not going to happen to me."

"How do you know?" Rolando asked.

He didn't know. "I'm just a cargo pilot. I'm just going to fly stuff between Earth and Mars, you know? Maybe Europa. Just boring stuff for me, don't you worry. I mean it. And hey, I'm staying on Earth for the next three years. Okay? Nothing's going to happen to me.

"Ronnie's going soon though," Camila said.

"Veronica's the best science officer in the Garrison," Lance said. "She won't let anything bad happen."

Shiro had been the best. The whole crew had been the best, and now they were all dead.

The whole household was down for the rest of the vacation, and Lance had walked in on Mamá talking to Papá about how dangerous everything was, how she didn't know how she would deal with two children flying around in space. Lance went and played with the twins so he wouldn't be able to cry about it. Leaving home for the Garrison had never felt as hard as it did at the end of their two week summer vacation. Every hug seemed to last longer, and Mamá, Papá, Luis, and Tía Elena all promised to come out to see Veronica graduate at the end of the Summer.

The poster of Shiro over his bed seemed ominous when Lance got back to his dorm room, and Lance decided it would be a reminder of what was at stake. Rumors about the Kerberos Mission were already making their way through the halls, and Lance decided not to pay attention to any of them until he actually knew what had happened. Besides, aliens were stupidly improbable.

---

Keith wasn't sure why he was so shocked by it. Even with the relatively stable turn his life had taken, he should have known. One minute Shiro had been an email in his inbox, and then the next he was just gone. Keith had been at a loss for how to deal with his foster parents, and it was as much a relief to go back to the Garrison as it was an ugly constant reminder of the loss of the Heracles. He'd lost people before, he'd dealt with that before, but part of him was upset at himself just for getting attached to Shiro in the first place. He found himself with a shorter fuse than usual, and everyone seemed to get on his nerves. He had plenty of memories of loss, but that didn't make it feel any less raw, or sudden. He felt changed.

The Garrison itself had changed though. The official word was that Commander Simmons was being transferred, but word that he had been replaced because of the mission failure was what was whispered in the halls. Her replacement, Commander Iverson, was an unpleasant man who left a tension throughout the ranks of the school.

Keith found himself chafing more and more under the tight control of the command structure that just seemed to get more and more oppressive once Iverson took over. He wound up lashing out at the slightest provocation. It wasn't long before he found himself in Commander Iverson's office for an official reprimand.

"The Garrison doesn't need hotheads," Iverson said conversationally. He didn't sound very much like he cared one way or the other for why Keith was standing before him.

"No, Sir," Keith said.

"Top of your class though," Iverson said, glancing with disinterest at Keith's record. "But the Garrison expects more from you than just an ability to fly. Or did you think getting in on the recommendation of your foster brother still held weight here?"

Keith bristled, but he snarled out a, "No, Sir."

"Such a pity," Iverson said, though he didn't sound like he thought it was. "You see, Shirogane had potential too, or so we thought."

He paused there and Keith bit out a, "Shiro was the best."

Iverson ignored the comment. "And you're a foster kid," Iverson said, returning to Keith's file with a smirk on his face, deigning to ignore what Keith had said. "You're seventeen. What will you do when you've been expelled from the Garrison and aged out of the system at the same time. A lot of potential to go to waste."

That caught Keith's attention. Not the idea of having no prospects when he aged out, but the idea of never getting off the planet. Of Lance reaching for the stars while Keith was grounded.

"Expelled, Sir?" Keith asked.

"You're certainly on your way," Iverson said. "I had Lieutenant Commander Botende's job five years ago Cadet. I've seen plenty of good pilots wash out. Not sure what the point of dragging things on is. How much is staying here worth to you?"

"Everything, Sir," Keith said.

"You haven't been acting like the Garrison is everything to you," Iverson said.

"I'll shape up, Sir," Keith said, feeling small.

"Oh you will. I'll make sure that you do, Cadet," Iverson said, and here his casual demeanor turned hard and cold. "I don't believe in coddling people. You have to show me that you're worth keeping around Gyeong. So you're going to start acting like you're in the fucking military, and you're going to show your superiors the subservience that they are owed. I am your god while you are under my command, and you will treat me as such. My cadre are to be shown the respect they deserve and the only 'smart' response they're going to get from you is a 'yes, Sir.' Do you understand me cadet?"

"Yes, Sir," Keith said, trembling from feelings of helplessness and anger and loss.

"You're on extra duty under me from now on, Cadet," Iverson said. "I'll make sure you aren't a waste of Garrison resources. You're going to have to show me that I should let you stay."

"Yes, Sir," Keith said. It was the only acceptable answer. Iverson kept talking for a while longer, becoming more and more fired up as, "Yes, Sir," was the only response expected from Keith. 'Patience yields focus,' he told himself, over and over again. He reminded himself constantly of what was at stake.

Extra duty was an ordeal and by the time he got back to his dorm, 'patience yields focus' had become a mantra, even though he didn't know what he was supposed to be focused on besides the need to get into space. In the following weeks he felt like he was on the edge of sanity. Iverson's extra duty kept him busy every moment he wasn't in class or studying, and every inch of the Garrison was a constant reminder of Shiro. On top of that, he continued to feel the need to walk out the door and search the desert. For what, he didn't know, but the feeling kept growing stronger and stronger and he felt like he was loosing his mind. It was only a continuous focus on what he still had left to lose that kept him in line, that forced him to rein in his temper. It was occasional slip ups that kept him in the hotseat, Lieutenant Graves told him. It was like he was eleven all over again and constantly bleeding off his rage at the universe in schoolyard brawls, only back then he wouldn't have minded being kicked out of school.

---

Lance started the Summer quarter with a new drive. It wasn't enough to just be the best. He had to be his own very best, because there was no way that he was going to ever do that to his family. He would always come home, no matter what. Lance grabbed every moment in the simulator he could, even when he had to get other science or engineering cadets to go in with him. When he couldn't get time there he pulled out his mockpit and ran increasingly difficult and obscure simulations of his own making. When it was time for combat marksmanship he ran through every exercise like his life was actually on the line, and he tried to approach homework too with the same drive, because who knew when he might need to know how to reset the engine manifold without his engineer.

Beyond that he started preparing for the opportunity to transfer to fighter class. He made up his own flight aptitude test, though he'd had to ask Francis for a bit of help on the setup. By the end of the quarter he found himself consistently at the top of the support pilots board, the same as Gyeong was at the top in fighter class. The only thing he needed now was a chance, and he'd prove he was just as good; that he had been worthy of the other pilot's attention.

---

Two weeks after the start of his extra duty, Iverson got called out to Europe for some meeting, much to Keith's relief. It wasn't like it let him off the hook, but he doubted that anyone else overseeing him would be quite as terrible. He was surprised, though, when he showed up and it was Adam waiting for him. He looked rather terrible, and Keith bit his tongue, figuring he shouldn't say that. He didn't really know what to say.

"You're not even schoolhouse cadre," Keith said.

"I pulled some strings," Adam said. He sighed. "I told Shiro I would look out for you while he was gone. Looks like I've been doing a great job of that."

"While he was gone, huh?" Keith said. "I don't need someone looking after me."

"And yet, here we are," Adam said. "Come on, we're going to the motor pool."

Keith knew his way around an engine. He just hoped he wasn't supposed to wash things. He didn't get any instructions when they got there though, Adam just had him wait outside while he went into the office. A few minutes later, and an enlisted argonaut drove a hover bike up to the front, right as Adam came back out.

"Well, get on," Adam said.

Keith narrowed his eyes, but got on in the drivers seat. "Where are we going?" He asked.

Adam shrugged, getting on the seat behind him. "Dealer's choice."

Keith drove out into the desert. At first he just gunned it, but soon enough he started testing the limits of the bike, swerving around obstacles and over gullies and cliffs. When he got to the base of the mountain range that bordered the Garrison he just started climbing higher and higher. Eventually Adam tapped him on the shoulder and Keith pulled back on the throttle, stopping at an outcropping of rocks. Adam hopped off and, in spite of the impulse to just take off without him, Keith did as well.

Nothing was said for a while, and Keith just stared out into the desert. That feeling like he was supposed to be wandering it filled him, and for the first time he felt like there was a specific direction he was supposed to be going in,

"I'm pretty terrible at this," Adam said. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"That's what Shiro was good at."

Wasn't Keith the one who was supposed to say something. Shiro was Adam's fiancé. For all Keith knew, the two of them had been soulmates. Shiro'd been the closest thing Keith had to family in this lifetime, but he knew Adam had the bigger claim.

"It doesn't get better," Keith said. "It's always going to suck. You just get used to how much it sucks." You could get used to just about anything.

"So what's happening in class?" Adam asked

Keith shrugged. "People just get on my nerves," he said.

"Have you been to behavioral health? Adam asked.

"They're not going to tell me anything I haven't heard before," Keith said. It wasn't like no one had ever thought to send him to a shrink when his dad had died.

Adam sighed and they lapsed into silence again, just watching the desert. Adam was right, he was terrible at this.

"Do you ever feel like something's out there?" Keith asked.

"Don't listen to those rumors, Keith. If aliens were out there I don't think they'd be scooping up argonauts at the edge of the solar system."

"I meant in the desert… Nevermind."

"The desert?" Adam asked.

"Like there's something pulling on you? Like there's something out there?"

Adam shook his head. "Can't say that I have. I bet you're feeling pretty cooped up at the Garrison. I guess you can say that you get used to it, but here, there is an actual end in sight. You're an amazing pilot Keith. Shiro told me that much. This is all temporary. You'll get off extra duty eventually, and then you can go blow off steam in town. Stay on track for graduation.

Adam didn't understand.

"Yeah," Keith said. "It's just like the whole Garrison's changed. I don't suppose you can pull more strings, take on the rest of my extra duty till it's over."

Adam shook his head. "You've got until Iverson's back. I don't have any strings with him." He looked at Keith hesitantly. "I'm getting edged out, Keith. Since we lost them. Whatever they say, Keith, don't believe them. I don't think they want people close…"

Keith waited for him to finish the statement. "What?" He asked.

Adam shook his head. "Just keep your head down. Come on. I should get you back."

Adam drove them back, driving in about as straight a line as they could go.

"Keep your head down," Adam said again when they got back to the motorpool. "And- I might be getting transferred. I don't know yet. Maybe Kenya, maybe Mars. Just keep your head down."

"What's going on Adam?" Keith asked.

"Nothing," Adam said. "I've got to go. Remember what I said."

Keith had a strange urge to go make sure Lance was okay. He ignored it. He had a strong urge to get back on the bike and drive it back out into the desert. He ignored that too. He didn't have time, of course, to worry about the desert. Iverson kept him busy, and there were times that Keith wanted to shake him and demand some answers.

When the IMSC World Combatives Championship came up in Amsterdam, Keith was pretty sure he would have been one of the cadets sent to represent the Garrison, like Shiro had been, but Keith was still in the shithouse with the cadre so he got left behind. It wasn't like he cared about some stupid competition, it just sucked to get left behind when he knew he belonged there.

Things just kept moving forward though, even though it felt like an eternity. He didn't have much time to keep tabs on Lance, but he noticed when the support sections ranking board changed the first day of Fall Quarter. He never heard what happened to Francis Scott, but Lance had a new science officer on his flight crew, a Pidge Gunderson. A student who had unexpectedly been transferred from the European Division of the Garrison. He wished that he had time to watch Lance in the simulator, with his new teammate, but Iverson had made it clear that the new term hadn't let him off the hook.

---

In the immediate aftermath, it didn't really process. Katie kept working on her projects when she wasn't dragged out of her room because somebody or other had come to see them. She didn't really remember much from these meetings, she just kept focusing on whatever she'd been interrupted from.

"Katie, honey, I made lunch," Mom said

"I'm not hungry," Katie said, affixing a new sensor to the new circuit board that was replacing the one that had gotten smashed the night before.

"Please sweetie," Mom said. "Just come and eat something. Maybe a yogurt?"

Mom sounded sad, so Katie groaned and got up from her chair.

She wound up slowly swirling a spoon through some yogurt while Mom ate. Katie usually skipped out on lunch during the week. There was no one around to remind her she needed to eat. She looked up at her mom.

"Mom," she said. "Why aren't you at work?"

"They put me on leave sweetheart," Mom said.

"There's a systems problem on the Heracles and they sent you home?" Katie asked.

Mom broke out into sobs and Katie froze, staring at her mom before her eyes swept around the dining room and the living room. The areas of the house she had been avoiding. Full of flowers and cards.

"They just need to fix it, Mom," Katie said.

"Katie there's nothing to fix," Mom said. "There's nothing left."

The Heracles was gone. Dad and Matt were gone. They weren't coming back. They were supposed to come back. They always came back. Matt promised he'd come back. Katie spent the rest of the day locked in her room.

She'd been out of the loop ever since they first lost contact with the Heracles. She'd stayed cooped up in her room and as she tried to grapple with what had happened she realized that she really didn't know what had happened. The next morning she tried to pull up some sort of report online but short of reports of the Heracles being destroyed, and numerous fluff pieces doing exposes on the crew, there really wasn't anything that had been released on what had happened.

"I want to see the logs," Katie told Mom when she went down for breakfast.

"They're not going to release those for a while," Mom said.

"Well, what do they say?" Katie asked.

"I don't know honey, I've been on leave," Mom said.

"Why?" Katie asked. "Don't you want to know? They landed safely. The most dangerous part of their mission was over, so what the hell happened? Why are you taking leave?"

"So I can be with you," Mom said. "Katie there's any number of things that could have happened."

"I don't need you here," Katie said. "I need you to tell me what happened."

"I don't know what happened, and I can't-" Mom shuddered a bit. "I can't deal with it right now. They put me on leave honey. It isn't really appropriate for me to be working on this right now."

"Appropriate?" Katie asked. "I'm talking to Commander Simmons."

"Honey-"

"I'm going," Katie stomped towards the door.

Mom didn't try to stop her.

She was still in her socks. It took her most of the walk across the base to realize that she was also still in her pajama pants and t-shirt.

"I want to see Commander Simmons," Katie said when she got into the front office.

"Do you have an appointment young lady?"

"No," Katie said. "She'll want to see me."

"What's your name?"

"Katie Holt."

That got recognition.

"My condolences Ma'am."

"I just need to see Commander Simmons," Katie said.

"Commander Simmons has been reassigned, I can see if Commander Iverson will speak to you."

Katie nodded as the argonaut walked out into the next office. She avoided looking at everyone else in the office.

"Miss Holt," a man's voice called out. She looked up to see a large man approaching her. She recognized the gold stripes on the shoulders of his uniform, the same that had been on her father's.

"Commander Iverson," Katie said, extending her hand. "I wanted to talk to you about the Heracles."

"Why don't we step into my office."

Katie nodded.

"Henderson, a coco for the young lady."

"Yes, Sir."

Katie let herself be guided into the next office.

"A terrible tragedy, Miss Holt. How are you holding up?"

"I need answers," Katie said. "You sent my mom away and she needs to be working the problem."

"Your mother's taking bereavement leave," Commander Iverson said. "Of course no one expects her to work at a time like this."

"The Garrison hasn't released any information about the Heracles," Katie said.

"We're still processing what happened," Commander Iverson said. "There's a lot of data to be reviewed. We won't be making a report until we're sure we know what happened."

"I'd like to see the data logs," Katie said.

"I'm sure you're very upset, Miss Holt. "Even if the data was in any sort of format you'd understand, it's only going to be troubling to you."

"My mom could review it with me," Katie said, ignoring the assumption that she wouldn't be able to process the data.

"Miss Holt you and your mother are in the middle of the grieving process, and the last thing we need is for partial information to be released to start rumors in the press. The world is watching us very closely right now. Your father and brother both gave their lives for a higher calling and there are some people out there, they're always out there, who don't think that mankind was meant to explore the stars. Whenever a disaster like this happens, it's important that we not leave room open to speculation until we have a firm report on what happened, lest we fuel rumors and naysayers. Your family believed in this program, and they wouldn't want their loss to cause it harm. When we do release the report, we'll make sure you and your mother get to see it first, before hand."

"I can keep a secret," Katie said.

"I'm sure you can," Commander Iverson said.

"I have Miss Holt's Coco," a voice said from the door.

"Excellent," Commander Iverson said. "It was so good talking to you, Miss Holt. You have my sincere condolences. Henderson, could you drive Miss Holt home. She shouldn't be walking around base barefoot."

A week later Mom's bereavement leave ended but she'd been transferred to a new department.

"They should have the person who helped design the systems figuring out what happened," Katie said.

"We decided it could look bad to have a family member as part of the investigation," Mom said.

"You decided?" Katie asked. "Or they decided."

"Sweetie-"

"Don't you want to know what happened?" Katie asked.

"Of course I do," Mom said. "But there's more to it than that."

"They're shutting you out," Katie said. "And what's taking them so long? The Osiris II was in range when they landed there should be plenty of information."

"I'm sure there's a lot of information," Mom said. "But it's going to be incomplete information. Honey, it's going to take time, and… You should be prepared for the possibility that there are no good answers."

Katie shook her head. "I don't accept that."

"Katie," Mom said.

"No, Mom, this whole thing stinks. They landed safely. Why was Commander Simmons transferred? She was the best person to be leading this investigation. Why are they shutting you out? Something's not right. Tell me you see that."

"Katie there's no cover up," Mom said. "I know this has been hard on you. It's been hard on me too. The memorial's in two days. Can't we just take some time? I think you'll feel better after the memorial."

There was a knock at the door and Mom went and opened it.

"Adam," Mom said. "Come in. How are you holding up?"

Katie hated that question. She went up to her room.

The memorial was horrible. There were cameras, and a ton of people who had no business being there. There were speeches about the dangers of space travel and about the brave men and women who dedicated their lives to broadening mankind's reach. At some point someone put another stupid bouquet of flowers in her hands. Katie went home afterwards and looked up Commander Iverson. She started keeping tabs on him as she started probing at the Garrison's systems.

It wasn't posted in advance, so when she found out he had just been a presenter at a conference in Geneva she hoped she'd have some time before he got back. She walked back to his office around lunchtime and stuck her head in. The office was empty. She made her way to the back where Iverson's private office was. It was locked with a digital keypad that Katie took care of quickly. Closing herself inside of his office she plugged a password cracker she'd built into his computer and started looking at things around the desk while it did its thing.

The papers left out on top of his desk were innocuous, and the desk drawers were all locked and Katie didn't know how to pick a physical lock. Less than a minute later though Iverson's computer logged itself in for her and she quickly loaded on a program that would open up a back door and erase any logs of her entry. She should have left then, but there was a file labeled Kerberos right there. She opened it. Right at the top of the folder were three files labeled Osiris Sensor Log 1, Osiris Sensor Log 2, and Osiris Sensor Log 3. She opened the first one and saw log data on the Kerberos landing from the day before to the day after. She scanned through it and opened the second one. Her eyes widened and her heart started pounding in her chest. She opened the third one. Her eyes started to water, and then she heard someone outside. She closed everything, pulled out her cracker and locked the computer. Then she hit control alt delete and hit the return button over and over again. As far as the computer was concerned, someone had just tried to log in with the wrong password too many times.

The door opened and Commander Iverson was standing right there in front of her. She opened her mouth to start laying out accusations but he got there first.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked her.

"I know what you're doing," Katie said.

He lunged forward and Katie took a big step back away from the imposing man, but all he did was turn the monitor so he could look at it. All he'd see though were the words 'Account Disabled.'

"I have half a mind to have you arrested," Iverson growled.

"I thought you were worried about the publicity?" Katie asked.

"Henderson," Iverson shouted. "Get this girl out of here. Make sure she doesn't have access to the building."

"Yes, Sir."

Mom already knew when she got home.

"Katherine Holt, what on Earth were you thinking?"

"Mom, they're faking the sensor data," Katie said.

"What?" Mom asked.

"They have three different copies of the same sensor logs," Katie said. "It's like they're trying to choose between the best one."

"Katie that's ridiculous, those files are very difficult to parse through. I'm sure that's not what's going on. Honey, you need to drop this. You could have gotten into so much trouble today. I just had to beg Commander Iverson not to press any charges."

"He was never going to do that," Katie said. "Mom it's a cover up, why can't you see that."

"Katie, I can't deal with this right now. I know this has been so terrible for you, but you're seeing something that isn't there. Grief can do a lot of things to your head. You need- We need some time to process everything. Germany's going to be a good change of pace for us."

"Wait," Katie said. "Germany?"

"I'm being transferred," Mom said.

"They're transferring you because of me?" Katie asked.

"No, we've been talking about the possibility for a while," Mom said. "They want me to head up one of the development teams over there. And after today, I think its best. You need to get away from this all."

Katie had remote access to Iverson's computer, but if she didn't want to cross the base's firewalls she was going to need to stay local. She made a very fast decision.

"Actually Mom, I think you're right about that," she said. "Staying around base has been difficult for me. I'm sure it's been hard on you too. I think you should go to Germany. I don't think I can though."

"What?" Mom asked.

"It's just going to be another Garrison," Katie said. "Do you remember those schools that sent me brochures after I took that test last year?"

"Katie," Mom said.

"There's a boarding school in San Diego," Katie said. "It's got a top tier program for science and technology. I just think I need to be as far away from any space program as I can get right now."

"Boarding school?"

"Matt pretty much did boarding school," Katie said.

Mom choked on a sob.

"Mom," Katie said. "I'm sorry. I think I need this."

Mom grabbed her into a hug.

"I can't lose you too," Mom said.

"You won't be losing me," Katie said. "We can video chat every day."

"Lets cool off on this," Mom said. "Today's been… Lets talk about this tomorrow. It's been a while… It's been a while since I've looked at any of your projects. Why don't you show me what you've been working on?"

A few hours later there was a knock on the door, and for just a moment, Katie worried that Iverson had changed his mind. It was only Adam though. Katie went to her room and let them talk. She logged into her computer and checked on her back door. Iverson had already had his account fixed so it wasn't any trouble getting back in. She checked the logs from her program. They hadn't even done a scan. No one would have thought a thirteen year old would hack the account. She started copying the Kerberos folder. After that she started going through everything else. There was only one locked folder that she could find and after a bit of work she got it open only to find some rather violent porn that she really wished she hadn't seen. By the time Mom called her down for dinner she'd started trying to probe out into the network while she set a program to scrub through Iverson's emails.

"What was the name of that school?" Mom asked.

"The Nimitz Academy," Katie said. "Really good program. They'd offered me a scholarship, for room and board, and everything, remember?"

"I think you should do it," Mom said.

"Really," Katie said. She wasn't complaining, but she'd expected to have to do some more work to get it.

"I think you should get away from this all," Mom said.

"What did Adam want earlier?" Katie asked.

"He was checking up on us," Mom said. "He's actually going to be transferring to Kenya soon."

"He's getting transferred too?" Katie asked. "What a wild and crazy coincidence."

"Katie," Mom said.

"I'm getting away from this," Katie said. "Don't worry about it.

Things moved really quickly after that. She didn't have a lot of time as Mom started making arrangements to move. Katie filled out an application for the academy and had mom sign it. She'd been worried she'd need to fake an acceptance letter, but they sent one a lot sooner than she'd expected. All she had to do after that was secretly withdraw her application. It had taken her a while, but she'd gotten into the Garrison's student records. If she was going to do things properly, she was going to have to get herself an actual position at the Garrison.

She was actually going to need time to get things done, so she had no desire to enter as a first year. First she looked for any open slots, but there weren't any. She combed through the list of science officers until she found one Francis Scott. He'd put in a request to be transferred to the European Division. She did a quick check. The European Division actually had a slot open, but Scott's application had been left pending for a few weeks. It took her a bit to get the credentials, but eventually she had signed it digitally and sent it forward. Congratulations Francis Scott. Next thing she'd need was a new identity.

Katie looked at herself in the mirror. She obviously couldn't go as Katie Holt. The biggest problem was that Iverson was involved in the training program. She didn't just need a new identity, she needed a disguise or he'd recognize her instantly. Medically though, there was one big issue. If the doctors knew she was on hormone blockers they'd want to run periodic blood tests, and if anything seemed out of standard, they might want to consult wither her previous doctors.

The most obvious thing was to keep the fact that she was trans to herself. The Garrison wasn't exactly a place with a lot of privacy so the odds of her hiding the fact that she wasn't a cis girl were small. She needed to get a student photo into her file anyways so she cut her hair, put on a pair of Matt's glasses and hung up a sheet in her room and took a picture. After that she just had to photoshop her head onto the student photo of another student. A boy student. Pidge didn't sound too masculine. She meshed a few student files together to make her own. To make Pidge Gunderson. She avoided looking in the mirror after that.

Pidge Gunderson was a student at the top of the Flight Science track in the European Division. Pidge was barely passing PT though and had a slight astigmatism, but was otherwise healthy. Pidge had zero disciplinary issues and had taken two combat related electives in first year and no longer had any combat related requirements. A few clicks later and Pidge's file was in the European Divisions student folder. Then she submitted and approved herself for a transfer to the American Division. There would be a flight waiting for her between Summer and Fall quarter. Getting a passport would be trickier, but that was what the dark web was for. That would also keep her supplied with hormone blockers while she was a student as well. She'd worry about paying for that next.

Mom cried when Katie walked downstairs and she realized that she was still wearing Matt's glasses. They weren't the strongest of prescriptions.

"Your hair," Mom said.

Katie looked away. "I needed a change."

There were a lot of hugs that night, and crying on both parts. Katie felt guilty when she went through Mom's files later on. There were accounts for survivor benefits and a college fund in her name and all she needed were the account and routing numbers. She purchased some crypto currency and cycled it through some new accounts she set up around the world. Then she purchased her passport.

They flew to Germany the next week. Base housing in Germany was about the same as base housing in America. She'd been going through the ID card office's systems for a while so when they got on base Pidge told Mom she was going exploring and headed to the office.

"Hello, my name's Pidge Gunderson," Katie said, almost chewing up her assumed name. "My recruiter said I could come in and get my Garrison ID before term starts."

"I need your orders and either a Passport or state ID?" The clerk behind the desk asked. Pidge handed over her documents and the fake passport. This was going to be its first test.

A few minutes later she walked out of the office with her new ID card. The start of fall term was approaching and Pidge found herself spending a lot of time with Mom when she wasn't reading system manuals and otherwise preparing to pass herself off as a second year cadet.

"Are you sure you have everything sweetie?" Mom asked. "Yes," Pidge said. "Everything's ready."

The bags were packed, but Mom didn't know that there were several brand new Garrison uniforms tucked away inside. Using her ID card, she'd been able to purchase what she needed from the student store.

"Well come on then. We should get to the airport a little early."

Mom helped her with her bags. The drive to the airport was pretty quiet and both of them sniffled and cried a bit on the way. Mom stayed with her up until the security checkpoint and then Katie was on her own. She went to the bathroom and hid herself in a stall. She opened the bag and pulled out the outfit she'd gotten for Pidge. It was baggy, which was about the only thing she thought she could stand. She changed into the clothes and bundled up her dress. Outside, she stuffed it in the trash before feeling a pang of regret, remembering that Dad had bought that for her for her first day of Middle School. She wasn't going to go to the Garrison with any dresses though. Pidge pulled out her phone and called the airline and canceled Katie's flight. Yes, she did realize that she couldn't get a refund. Pulling out the battery she put her phone into a faraday bag in her backpack and pulled out Pidge's phone that she'd gotten earlier in the week. She walked out the security checkpoint and went to the ticketing window.

"My name's Pidge Gunderson, I have a flight to Los Angeles."

"Passport please."

Katie smiled, pulling out the document.

Katie's investigation had gotten about as far as it was going to go. Katie couldn't stay in the American Division. Katie had gotten her about as far as she could get. It was time for Pidge to pick up the investigation. Pidge was going to find out what really happened to her family. Pidge could do anything Katie needed her to. She would be Pidge until she got her answers. She would be Pidge until it was all over.

---

The end of Summer quarter marked the end of Lance's first year and Veronica's fourth. Family came for her graduation, and Lance got to show them around the public areas of the base. Veronica would be shipping out for her first assignment a few weeks later, a survey mission on Titan. After their family went back home, Veronica got them a hotel room in Tucson for the rest of the week of vacation. Lance found himself missing the simulator.

Lance gave Veronica a big hug when they got back to the Garrison at the end of break. She'd be shipping out to Kenya for pre-mission prep and an equatorial launch.

"Stay safe," he told her.

"Just a standard mission," Veronica said. "Nothing to worry about."

It wasn't quite standard, it was a good gig for a graduate; she was top of her class. It wasn't exactly adventurous or exotic though, either. About as safe as a survey mission on Mars except for a longer flight and a trip through the main asteroid belt, which Lance had been assured, more than once, didn't actually require asteroid dodging.

Getting back to the dorm provided a bit of a shock for Lance, seeing as a new cadet was moving into Francis' bunk.

"What the hell?" Lance asked.

"Transfer student," the cadet said. "From the European Division. The name's Pidge Gunderson. Call me Pidge. Are you Lance?"

"Yeah, what happened to Francis?"

Pidge shrugged. "I dunno," he said, pulling a brand new stack of boxers out of their packaging and shoving them in a drawer. "Hey, I turned all my equipment back in to CIF in Europe, can you show me where I can get my initial issue?"

"Yeah, sure," Lance said, moving aside so the other boy could exit their room. "They didn't say anything about Francis?"

"Nope," Pidge said. "So what do I need to know about the Garrison here?"

"Oh, uh, watch out for Commander Iverson. Lieutenant Commander Botende's pretty cool. Do not eat the tacos on taco Tuesday. Oh, and apparently, don't trust anyone, because they'll disappear without saying goodbye."

"Sorry about that," Pidge said.

"Not your fault," Lance said.

"Hey, so what have you been hearing about the Heracles?"

"I've been waiting for the report," Lance said.

"Yeah, but American Division was in charge of the mission. There's probably some rumors going around."

"I'm sure there are," Lance said. "So tell me about Europe. Do you really country hop during vacation."

"I just studied in the dorm," Pidge said. "I've got some projects I'm working on. Sort of self study, you know."

"Right on," Lance said. "Hunk says we get all the prototypes first, so you'll probably like it here. So why'd you transfer?"

"Hunk was right," Pidge said. "Also, who's Hunk?"

"Our engineer," Lance said.

"I thought his name was Aputi."

"He goes by Hunk," Lance said.

They were outside CIF.

"Are you going to need help getting back?"

"I think I can remember the way."

"I meant with all the stuff," Lance said. Pidge looked twelve, and the initial issue wasn't exactly light.

"I'll manage," Pidge said.

"Right," Lance said. "Well, I'll see you. Hunk should be around. We could all get dinner together."

"Actually, I'm pretty jet lagged. I think I'll turn in early."

"Oh, yeah, alright."

Hunk was in their room when he got back.

"What the hell happened to Francis?" Lance asked.

"Dude, he moved out on Friday," Hunk said. "He said he'd put in for the transfer a few months ago. His brother's been sick and he wanted to be closer to home."

"He never said anything," Lance said.

Hunk shrugged. Francis had always been aloof. Lance supposed there was nothing for it except to send a goodbye text later.

"Okay, well our new science officer is named Pidge Gunderson and he's from the European Division, and I don't know how they do things there, but I want to make sure he's up to scratch, you know? Can we focus on the simulator for a bit, make sure we mesh well. I don't want our team to fall behind."

"Yeah," Hunk said. "I can do that, but next Saturday I'm going to the seminar on the Dyson Project."

"I figured," Lance said. "So tell me about your vacation, anything fun on base?"

Lance had been hoping to get into the simulator as soon as term started, but with a new crew mate, he really wanted to get some free sim time before they had to do anything for class. No such luck though. Monday morning, bright and early and they found themselves in the simulator. Pidge obviously knew what he was doing with the systems, but he absolutely sucked at teamwork. Lance wondered if they even did Total Crew Operations in first year at the European Division. Lance didn't even want to look at the rankings after that disastrous run.

In the face of opposition, Lance managed to drag Pidge to the simulators after class, along with Hunk, so they could run it again, and again. Francis had always given off the impression that he liked to work alone, but Pidge didn't seem to have any concept of teamwork. They'd work on it, but first they needed to make sure the new cadet could at least make it through class.

It went the same way the next day. Fighter class had free sim, so Lance pulled out his mockpit and a few scenarios and sat Pidge down and went line by line making sure he knew procedure and how he was supposed to interact with the crew. When his phone started buzzing he ignored it, and gave Pidge the stink eye when it looked like he was going to go checking his own.

"Is this really necessary?" Pidge asked again.

"I don't know how things were where you came from," Lance said. "But there's no room for error here. We're training for real life, which means life and death, and besides that, the new Commander's a piece of work, so don't think you can get away with not knowing this stuff."

"Yeah, plus Lance is obsessed with getting into fighter class," Hunk said.

"That's not the point," Lance said.

Pidge rolled his eyes. "The point is that I didn't come to the Garrison to sit next to a cardboard box. I have projects to work on."

"You can work on extracurriculars when you've got the basics down," Lance said.

"Well how about we take a break," Hunk said. "The galley's going to close soon, and I'd rather eat there than get a freezer meal from the student store." Which said a lot about the freezer meals.

Lance sighed. They hadn't made as much progress as he would have liked.

Suddenly there was a nock at the door and Lance jumped up to get it. Outside was an enlisted argonaut who Lance had seen working in Lieutenant Commander Botende's office.

"Cadet Sanchez?"

"That's me, Petty Officer."

"You're being summoned to see Lieutenant Commander Botende. Also, check your phone in the future."

Lance paled a bit, wondering what was wrong.

"Just a moment," Lance said. He grabbed his uniform top from off his chair and put it on over his undershirt.

"Do you know what this is about, petty officer?" Lance asked.

"I know that it's between you and the commander."

"Right," Lance said, still not sure if he was in trouble for anything.

When they got into the office, Lance thought it would be best to just be direct.

"Good evening Ma'am, I know I bombed the simulation yesterday. We have a new teammate and we've been working nonstop since then to make sure we mesh in the cockpit."

"That's good to hear cadet." Lieutenant Commander Botende said. "That's the sort of proactive behavior I've come to expect from you. Though I've also come to expect a bit of reckless behavior from you as well, and seeing as I just booted an impulsive cadet from the program less than an hour ago, I thought you and I should have a chat."

"Reckless? Me? Ma'am, I always show a proper understanding of protocol."

"Yes, and then you break protocol."

"I'm just trying to get as much out of the simulator as I can, Ma'am. I want to be prepared for anything and everything. There's nothing I take more seriously than the safety of my ship and my crew."

"That is good to hear. I would hate to lose two fighter pilots, after all."

"Fighter pilot?"

"This is rather sudden," Lieutenant Commander Botende said. "But I myself thought it best to be proactive. A slot has opened up, Cadet, and there are some on the staff who don't think you belong in fighter class, in spite of the rankings. Commander Iverson is a bit difficult to shake after he has set his mind to something, so as he is a bit preoccupied right now, I'd like to be able to have your new Flight Aptitude Test ready to show him tomorrow when the flight staff start nominating cadets to take the slot. Assuming you pass, of course."

"Yes, Ma'am, I will," Lance said. "No doubt about it, I'm ready."

"Good, I have already spoken to medical. You took a twelve hour dose of your medication this morning?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Zero six hundred hours."

"Then we add an hour just to be on the safe side, and that means you have a half an hour to get ready for the test."

"Yes Ma'am, and, well, thank you Ma'am."

"Thank me by becoming a damned good fighter pilot, Cadet."

"I will, Ma'am."

They left him to his own devices after that. He wasn't allowed to leave the office so he sat at an empty desk that was probably used by some enlisted pencil pusher during the day and psyched himself up for the test. Or rather, he calmed himself down. Everything was very sudden, and suddenly everything he'd been working for since he was twelve was resting on a test he was going to be taking that night. As much as he had prepared for this, as much as he had prepared for specifically this test, he was incredibly nervous for the outcome.

After what seemed like forever, it was time to take the test.

Spacial reasoning went well. It was nothing compared to what he was used to in the cockpit. Hand eye coordination had never been an issue to begin with, and he'd gotten his reaction times down significantly since the last time he'd taken the test. Memory hadn't exactly been a problem the first go around, but he figured he'd probably done a few points better. The last test, of course was for focus, and that was the test he had practiced the most over the past quarter. Just like every time he practiced, he let his eyes lose focus and he focused on his breathing, not letting himself get distracted by the images on the screen while he listened to the tones over the headphones, ready to toggle the switch every time he heard the right series of tones.

Lieutenant Commander Botende was smiling when the results printed out, and Lance didn't have to be told to know that he'd passed.

"Is there anything else I need to do Ma'am?" Lance asked.

"Don't be too surprised if you're told to move classes soon. You and your crew."

"So that means-"

"That means I will be informing Commander Iverson that there is a promising and qualified cadet ready to be moved into fighter class tomorrow. What he does with that is up to him, Cadet."

"Yes Ma'am. I won't get my hopes up."

"I think it is perhaps too late for that. Go have some fun, Cadet. If nothing else, you've earned it."

"Yes, Ma'am." Lance said. "Thank you, Ma'am."

He practically ran back to the barracks.

"Hunk," he said when he opened the door. "You're not going to believe this."

Hunk had a bit of a morose look about him when Lance walked in, and Pidge was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" Lance asked.

"They released the report on the Heracles mission," Hunk said.

Lance instantly felt his spirits drop. "So, what happened?"

Hunk glanced at the poster over Lance's bunk before saying. "It basically boils down to pilot error."

Lance shook his head. "They'd already landed."

"The report said that the landing site wasn't stable so they tried to do a short hop to the secondary landing site."

"Oh," Lance said, but it still didn't sound right. How could the Heracles have been lost to pilot error when it had had the best pilot at the helm? "What happened to Pidge?"

"He didn't seem to take it well," Hunk said. "Not sure where he went. Hey, what was your thing?"

"What?" Lance asked.

"You said something was up when you came in," Hunk said.

"Oh," Lance said. "Yeah, we're probably getting bumped up to fighter class. They lost a pilot. Expelled, I mean."

"Oh, hey man, congratulations."

"Yeah," Lance said.

"So like we're going to be bumped up?"

"Yeah man, we're a team," Lance said.

"And now you've got free license to try all the maneuvers you aren't supposed to do in a cargo ship," Hunk said.

"You'll get used to it," Lance said. "This'll be great." He tried to sound like something great was happening. "Hey, um, it should be early morning in Kenya, I'm going to call my sister."

"Yeah man," Hunk said. "Did you ever eat?"

"Yeah," Lance lied. He didn't feel very hungry.

---

Keith honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could last, and in the end, he'd never know. Two days into term and the Garrison released its official report on the Kerberos Mission Failure. "Pilot error," the report said. Keith had taken one look at Iverson's smug face that evening when he'd shown up for extra duty and he'd decked him.

The following morning he found himself at the bus stop outside the Garrison, waiting for the transport that would take him to the train station in town, a duffle bag with his own possessions on his left, and another one that Petty Officer Gant had handed him with items from Shiro's quarters. He was supposed to go back to the Shiroganes, now that he'd washed out. He still hadn't really felt the impact of that.

The knowledge that he would never make it to space, that he would never find the answers he was looking for, that his soulmate would leave Earth without him; he knew it, but he didn't really feel it yet. Lance was going to space someday. What would Keith do? There were commercial crews that launched to Mars, but they'd never take a Garrison washout.

As he waited though, he felt something else. Something that he'd felt before. A feeling that had been growing and growing. The pull towards the desert. The idea that there was something out there waiting for him.

He never made it onto his bus. He did manage to sneak into the motor pool. He had plenty of memories of sneaking around, both from his current life and his previous ones. Someone was loading up a hoverbike, and as they went back into the supply room for more, Keith hopped on and took off. By the time anyone gave chase he was already over the horizon. When he checked the small cargo hatch later, he was pleased to find some rations, and a fair bit alarmed to find some C4. He rode far out into the desert, far from the Garrison, and he still didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt like he knew which way to go, he felt like he had started something.

---

Veronica was, of course, ecstatic for him, even though he stressed that it wasn't set in stone. The following day after classes he got the news. It was official. There was no fanfare. He got a new patch and the following day he showed up with Hunk and Pidge to the simulator with the rest of the fighter section. There were a lot of calculating stares and not a lot of smiles from the pilots. That was when Lance found out exactly who had been expelled and why.

Keith Gyeong had decked Iverson, and for some reason Pidge had grinned at this retelling, but the boy whose face Lance had been looking forward to seeing as he walked into his new class wasn't there and Lance supposed it was a stupid way to get what he wanted.

His drilling with Pidge paid off, and they did well enough in the simulator. Not great, of course. About as well as could be expected really. It was a new ship, new protocols, though finally Lance got to pull some of the maneuvers he could never get away with in the cargo sim. In spite of the feeling that there was something wrong with getting into Gyeong's fighter slot, it was a good day. Right up to when Lance shot off an email over lunch to the whole family telling them the news, and got an email that evening from Marco asking why Rolando had burst into tears upon hearing the news.

That night he finally read the actual report on the Kerberos mission. It all just sat wrong with him. There was nothing technically wrong with it, but it all felt wrong. Hunk eventually got him to start on his homework, but by then the dose he'd taken after lunch had worn off and all he could think about was Kerberos. He scraped by enough to call his homework done and then he pulled up schematics and protocols for the fighter. He stayed up late that night working out new scenarios. He needed to be ready for everything. Later, when Pidge actually went to bed, Lance was a bit surprised to find that it was already three in the morning.

The following day was Friday and after classes Lance hauled his mockpit out of his closet and quickly realized that it would need to be drastically altered. He didn't have time for that. His new class didn't have free sim until Sunday. Hunk dragged him away for dinner before he finished modifications, and Lance spent the meal asking him about technical failures they should train for. Pidge had disappeared off to somewhere but Lance convinced Hunk to run through a scenario with him after dinner before Hunk got Lance to work on their homework together.

That weekend, Lance combed the archives for reports on past mission failures, and after that he started looking for old aviation logs. Most of them were critical equipment malfunctions. Most of them were caused by things outside of the pilots' control, but where there had been pilot error, Lance was a bit disgruntled to find that there wasn't just this one failure that showed up time and again. It was everything. Here, it was ridiculous mission hours and no sleep. There, it was miscorrection to minor malfunctions. There were a few that stemmed from a failure to do checks. But there were so many more, and Lance tried to take some few key takeaways, but the list kept growing and growing.

A week later, Veronica's ship launched, and Lance was a nervous wreck. He called his family and stayed on the phone with them until they had confirmation that the ship was in orbit. Two months to Titan, and then they'd spend another month doing surveying. Then a stay over at the Mars Space Station for a layover before everything aligned for a return trip home. All in all, Veronica's first mission was going to last six months, and Lance hated it. At least they could stay in contact by email.

A couple of days later, Veronica's ship left orbit and Lance got back to work. He trained like hell. Ultimately, he decided that he didn't have time for the swim team. He needed to be better. He needed to be ready. He was starting from the bottom, on a new ship, practicing new maneuvers, but by the end of the quarter he had left the bottom ten. He just had to push nineteen more pilots out of the way and he'd be on top. When he got on the transport to the train station at the end of Fall Quarter, he realized that he'd never once gone into town for the weekend during the entirety of the quarter.

Being back with his family for the Holiday was wonderful. The twins were ecstatic to see him and Camila dragged him down to the pool to teach her the butterfly stroke soon after he got there. She had shot up a bit since the last time he'd been home, and he thought Rolando was a bit put out by the height difference. It felt great to get back in the water. He wasn't sure that he'd realize that he'd missed it. Tío Mateo took him to the shooting range and Lance had a few things to teach him instead.

Besides that though, everything was the same. Lance had felt like the world had changed somehow when the Heracles had gone dark, but everything was moving along like normal. By the end of the first week of vacation he was itching to get back into the cockpit. He couldn't afford to get rusty. Mamá chastised him for having one of his textbooks out at the dinner table.

When he got back to the Garrison the evening before Winter quarter, Lance went and pulled the third year training manual for the fighter and went back to his room and pulled out his mockpit. One week in and he'd moved up two slots. Two weeks in and Veronica's ship left Titan and started its journey to Mars. Three weeks later and lance was getting to bed later than Pidge. By the end of the first month, Lance started slipping in the ranks.

His response was to train harder. The thing was, that there was just so many ways for things to go wrong, and if he wasn't the best, then how could he make sure that things didn't end in disaster. All he had to do was even bring up the topic and Hunk could go on for hours about all the ways you could get your crew killed. Of course, Hunk had an unshakeable faith in his own abilities, the sort that Lance figured actually got people killed. The sort of cockiness that had him sure he knew the solution to a problem before he'd run diagnostic protocols.

"Oh, it's just the neutron absorber," Hunk said. "We don't need it, I can just shut it down."

"You don't know that," Lance said. "Do the proper checks."

"Dude I'm telling you it's the neutron absorber."

"You've got to follow the protocol," Lance said.

"It's free sim," Hunk said. "You break protocol all the time," Hunk said, reaching over to the ion controls.

"Stop it," Lance said, turning around in his chair. "That's an order. Diagnose the problem first, if you're right you can turn it off. We're in atmo, this is the last place to start breaking protocols. And besides, I break protocols to push the limits of what we've been taught, you just want to ignore what they teach in class 'cause you think you're smarter than the teachers."

"Incoming," Pidge's voice called out. "Sanchez pull up."

"Incoming?" Lance asked, turning back around, his heart skipping a beat. He looked out the cockpit window but all he saw was blue skies. "Pidge, where?"

"Look at radar, just pull up!"

Suddenly the ship lurched and the damn red letters flashed up on the view screens. 'All Hands Lost.'

"No," Lance said. "Wait no… I- Shit…" What happened, what had he done? That hadn't even been in the scenario. He'd just gotten them all killed. He'd been distracted. He'd gotten them killed. He'd gotten them killed. He'd gotten them all killed.

Suddenly someone punched him in the arm.

"Cadet Sanchez, Respond!" The voice broke through and Lance looked up to realize that he had zoned out. Pidge was looking at him like he was a bug.

"Here flight, I'm… That wasn't in the simulation."

"I like to throw in a curveball when my pilot starts bickering with his engineer. Your sim time is over, make room for the next crew."

"Roger, flight," Lance said.

Lance got out of his chair and made his way quickly out of the room, avoiding the glances of the other crews waiting for the simulator. Ordinarily he'd get back in line, but he just left. He went back to his quarters and pulled out his mockpit and took things from the top. Unfortunately, the following day didn't go much better.

"Hey, Sanchez," Villareal called out from where he was sitting with a gaggle of fighter pilots in the galley. "Spectacular crash yesterday. Were you auditioning to become a cargo pilot again?" There was a lot of laughter for that.

"Oh, hah hah," Lance called back. "I didn't see you laughing when I passed you in the rankings."

"Yeah, and you're sliding your way back to the bottom right now," Villareal called back.

"Just ignore them," Hunk said.

"They think this is a joke," Lance said, gripping his silverware tightly enough to be painful.

"Did you even see him trying to recalibrate his trans induction coils yesterday?" Hunk asked. "Now that was a joke."

He heard more laughter from the other table.

Lance stood up. "Do you think this is a joke?" He called back, beginning to hear his blood rushing in his ears.

"Well, I mean, you are," Villareal said to more laughter.

"Shut up, just shut up! This isn't a joke. What do you think we're doing here? You think you can just go around treating this like its some stupid competition. Do you think your ship cares if you live or die? Do you think space is going to hesitate to kill your ass dead? It just takes one little mistake and then you're dead, and your crew is dead, and your passengers are dead because of something stupid like forgetting to check the stupid fucking fuel oxygenator before takeoff! And you just want to sit here with your stupid jokes like you don't still make the same stupid sort of mistakes. Like you think you're too cool to take this seriously. Well I take this seriously, and when you're getting sucked into the black void of space, I'm going to be sitting in my cockpit, doing things right and keeping my crew alive!"

Villareal looked at him like he was crazy. No, everyone was. Everyone in the galley was staring at him because he'd been shouting. He'd been screaming. His heart still pounding, Lance walked out of the room and into the nearest bathroom where he locked himself in a stall and waited for their lunch period to end. He waited for his heart to stop hammering in his chest.

He waited till just before class started to go in and take his seat in History. Hunk shot him a questioning look, but Ms. Kim always started class on the dot. Lance doodled in his notebook while she talked about the Enlightenment, something he hadn't done since middle school. When class finally let out he was the first one up from his desk, and grabbing his bag he headed to combat marksmanship.

Sniper training had been going well, and Lance was looking forward to clearing his head and just focusing on his shooting. He grabbed his flack vest and helmet from his locker at the range but was stopped when he tried to check his rifle from the armory.

"You've got a hold," Petty Officer Jones told him.

"A hold?" Lance asked.

"You're account has a hold. I can't issue you a weapon."

"What am I supposed to do in class Petty Officer?"

"Sanchez?" Someone asked from behind.

Lance turned around and saw a Petty Officer he'd never seen before. He had a caduceus patch on his shoulder.

"Here Petty Officer," Lance said.

"You've got an appointment with medical."

Lance shook his head. "I should be green on everything."

"I can't discuss your medical file in a public setting," the Petty Officer told him.

Lance took off his helmet and walked towards his locker. "Is this why I've got a hold?"

"Maybe," the Petty Officer said. "Let's go get it taken care of so you can get back to training."

Lance pulled the vest off over his head and quickly stowed it in his locker. This really wasn't the sort of thing he needed, and he just hoped he could get it straightened out quickly. Sick cadets were expected to show up to medical before breakfast if they wanted to be excused from the day's classes, so after lunch, there probably wouldn't be a line. Unfortunately medical was on the other side of the training area. Of course when he got there they couldn't just send him to the doctor for whatever it was, they had to do height and weight, blood pressure, temperature, pulse oxidation, and ask him about any medications he was on, as if they weren't already the only place Lance would be getting something prescribed. Finally though, he was left in an exam room looking at the medical posters on the wall.

There was a nock on the door and an older man in civilian clothes and a lab coat walked in.

"Cadet Sanchez?"

"Yes Sir," Lance said.

"Dr. Black," he introduced himself. "Relax, no need to stand at attention. Can I call you Lance?"

"Uh, yeah, but I'm not sure why I'm here," Lance said.

"There were some concerns over your health," Dr. Black told him.

"I'm fine," Lance said.

"Have you been getting enough sleep, Lance?" Dr. Black asked.

Lance resisted the urge to look in the mirror that was over the sink.

"Just some late nights," Lance said. "Burning the midnight oil, you know?"

"Nothing's been bothering you?"

"No," Lance said. "I sleep just fine when I get to bed."

"So why don't you tell me about this incident in the galley?" Dr. Black asked.

"Is that what this is about?" Lance asked. "I just blew off a bit of steam."

"You said that one of your fellow cadets was going to die."

"Because he doesn't take anything seriously," Lance said.

"He doesn't take you seriously?"

"He doesn't take space seriously," Lance said. "Carelessness gets people killed. Did he say I threatened him?"

"He hasn't said anything to anyone as far as I know. It sounds like you were pretty upset."

"I was just having a bad day," Lance said.

"Well Lance, I've already had a bit of a look at your school record. It looks like your grades have been taking a dip this quarter. Would it be fair to say that whatever has been going on has been going on for more than a day?"

"I really am fine though," Lance said. "I'll apologize to Cadet Villareal. I'm not sick or anything."

"Have you been thinking about death a lot lately?" Dr. Black asked.

"I take the dangers of space travel seriously," Lance said.

"Have you had any thoughts about hurting yourself?" Dr. Black asked.

"No," Lance said. "Seriously, no."

"What about hurting anyone else?"

"That's the opposite of what I've been doing," Lance said.

"What have you been doing?" Dr. Black asked.

"Making sure I'm the best pilot I can be so I don't get my crew killed," Lance said.

"Well there's nothing wrong with that," Dr. Black said.

"So I'm good?" Lance asked.

"Probably," Dr. Black said. "Not my decision though. I'm just doing an initial evaluation. Behavioral health will have to clear your hold."

"Behavioral health?" Lance asked.

"Psychiatry," Dr. Black said. "Just an evaluation."

"I've got a psych hold?" Lance asked.

"Safety hold," Dr. Black said.

"I'm not crazy, or anything like that."

"Then I'm sure that's what they'll find," Dr. Black said. "We'll try to get you an appointment sometime this next week."

"Well, what happens until then?" Lance asked.

"You go to classes," Dr. Black said. "Combat Marksmanship will have to wait until you get your hold taken care of though."

"I seriously just lost my temper," Lance said.

"Does a pilot who looses his temper sound like a safe pilot to you?" Dr. Black asked.

That brought Lance up short. "I'll work on it," he said.

"Work on it with psych," Dr. Black said. "Honestly most of your fellow cadets could do with a check in with behavioral health. Everyone's got issues Lance. Sometimes it helps to talk things out. Anyways, that's it for us. They'll set you up with an appointment at the front desk. You're cleared to go to your next afternoon class."

Lance sighed. "Thanks Dr. Black." He walked out of the room and got his appointment, feeling lucky to get one for the following Tuesday. The sooner he got this cleared up the better. He checked his watch. He could still catch the last half hour of English.

Lance got dinner to go that night and tried to catch up in his studies. He just needed them to get off his case so he could focus on being a pilot. When Hunk got back from dinner he sidestepped questions about lunch by asking him about the components of the pulse ion engine. Pidge came back just before curfew, took a moment to get brushed off by Lance when he asked about Villareal, before going to his own project.

Hunk had talked him into doing his English homework and halfway through he filled his electric kettle and made tea. When he smelled chamomile and saw a somewhat shifty look on Hunk's face, Lance figured out his angle. For the first time in a long while Lance actually went to bed at an hour his mother would have approved of.

The final flight operations class of the week was miserable, since everyone knew about Lance's blow up and that he had gotten kicked out of Combat Marksmanship for the week. Hunk was good about it all though, he was very nosy and knew all the gossip, so after class he spent a good long while spilling all the details about the other pilots who'd been jerks. Lance didn't really care about any of that, but it was nice that Hunk was on his side.

The thing was that everything was different in fighter section. He'd been friendly with most of the support pilots. They were all competitive, but there hadn't ever been anything hostile to it. That wasn't the case since he'd transferred though. The fighter pilots had cliques, none of which Lance was a part of, and all of them seemed to view each other as obstacles. Fighter class was everything he'd wanted and worked towards, but he couldn't deny that he'd been a lot happier in the support section.

Lance did his best to catch up over the weekend. He even got some decent sleep. As long as he could convince the therapist that everything was okay, then everything would be okay. He figured he just needed to act a bit contrite, agree with anything the therapist told him to do, and then he could get on with his life. His appointment was for the same time as he was supposed to be in Combat Marksmanship and instead of being anxious for the appointment, he was just relieved to be getting done with it when it finally came.

He wasn't surprised to see it was another civilian.

"Come on in Cadet," she said. "My name's Dr. Lively. Can I call you Lance?"

"Uh, yeah," Lance said. "You're a doctor."

"I'm a clinical psychiatrist," she said. "I work at Osler General Hospital in town, but I contract with the Garrison as needed. You can call me Carol by the way. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

"Do you decide whether or not I stay at the Garrison?" Lance asked.

"No," Dr. Lively said. "I make a recommendation, but your command ultimately makes that decision."

That meant yes.

"Now to be clear, that is all I tell the garrison," Dr. Lively told him. "I give them a basic assessment. I don't tell them anything you tell me."

Which still meant that what he said to her mattered to his future.

"Okay, well, I mean I told Dr. Black already, but I just got into a bit of an argument with another pilot and ran my mouth off a bit. I'd love to talk to you about some tips for how I can mind my temper."

"I'm sure we'll talk about that," Dr. Lively said. "But it sounded like there was an incident the day before in the simulator."

Lance wished he'd gotten to see everything they'd given the therapist before hand.

"Oh, that. I just really got into the simulation and I didn't really handle the mission failure well. I'd also pulled a few all nighters recently. I'm keeping an eye on my sleep now though."

"That's good to hear," Dr. Lively said. "And I'm going to want to talk about what happened last week, but I'd like to do a bit more of a full evaluation. I just want to have a better idea of where you're coming from first. Tell me about yourself."

This was looking less and less like a quick meeting. Lance wasn't sure where to start with telling someone about himself, certainly not someone who'd probably already reviewed his personnel file. He told her about how he'd worked to get into the garrison, and she kept asking questions about family members whenever they came up so he gave her a rundown of what things were like at home, and then since it seemed like the place everything would come back to, he told her about getting into fighter class. When he mentioned practicing in the mockpit she asked him about the scenarios he practiced.

Finally she asked him about what happened in the simulator and the galley.

"Safety's very important to you," Dr. Lively said.

"Well, yeah," Lance said. "It should be important to everyone."

"Would it be fair to say that it hadn't always been a priority?" Dr. Lively asked.

Lance shrugged. "Maybe I've matured a bit since I got here. That's good right?"

"You keep looking for my approval," Dr. Lively said.

"Don't I sort of need your approval?" Lance asked.

"I think you should be more focused on your own approval," she said.

"That's not going to keep me at the garrison," Lance said.

"Being a pilot has been rather stressful for you. To be honest the focus of everything you decided to tell me about yourself was centered around your quest to become a fighter pilot for the garrison, but I never really got any indication that this is something that you enjoy."

"I do, though," Lance said. "I love being a pilot."

"Why, though?" Dr. Lively asked.

Lance struggled to think of something to say. "There's just this feeling, when I do something awesome in the simulator, or when I solve a problem. I feel…" He wasn't sure what that feeling was. "It's good."

"So when was the last time you felt like that?" Dr. Lively

That brought Lance up short. "All the time," he lied.

"Can I hazard a guess that you haven't fell much like that since the Kerberos disaster? Maybe since the report came out?"

Lance nodded hesitantly. "Am I that transparent?" he asked.

Dr. Lively shook her head. "Lance I figured that out when I looked at your file. It wasn't exactly a leap. It's normal for something like that to reframe how you think of piloting."

"It doesn't feel like everyone else has been doing the same," Lance said.

"I expect most of your fellow cadets have been impacted by the disaster," Dr. Lively said. "In their own way. We all internalize things differently. Some people seek out humor, others try to push it out of their minds, and some try to reconcile an unpredictable universe by trying to prepare for everything when they can't."

"But you can," Lance said. "At least you can avoid making stupid mistakes. It wasn't unavoidable, if he'd checked the fuel oxidizer they'd be back on their way to Earth right now."

"Is that what you think happened?" Dr. Lively asked.

"The report said the fuel oxidizer failed in midflight. If they'd done the proper checks before hand, it could have been avoided. Shiro was supposed to be the best, but he got his crew killed, and I'm not doing that to my crew, or their families, or my family. I've got to be ready for anything."

"I read that report before I came to see you Lance. The Heracles was at the edge of the solar system; there hadn't been any radio transmissions since they landed. The Garrison put together satellite images and sensor readings and did their best to figure out what caused the crash. They don't really know if those checks were done or not. They had landed on an unstable surface; they may not have had the time to do those checks. They could have done those checks and still not identified the problem. It was an experimental ship. Everything was new, on an unexplored moon."

"No," Lance said. "They could have… They should have… There was something. There's always something. This was avoidable. You're acting like it was fate. Like they could have done everything right and it would have still happened."

"From what I've read in the report," Dr. Lively said. "That very well could be the case."

"Well, what am I still supposed to do with that?" Lance asked.

"That's up to you," Dr. Lively. "I'm sure your instructors appreciate a dedication to safety and protocol. But it seems that you've passed a point where its become unhealthy, and you've actually become a worse pilot for it."

"I just need to get more sleep," Lance said.

"Anxiety makes sleep difficult," Dr. Lively said.

"I don't have anxiety problems," Lance said.

"Chronically, no, I don't expect that you do," Dr. Lively said. "But it seems readily apparent that you're suffering from an acute anxiety disorder and without treatment it could turn into a chronic issue."

The words 'anxiety disorder' echoed in his mind. He shook his head. "You acted like I had a chance!" He accused, willing himself not to cry. "But you diagnosed me from the beginning and now they're going to send me home."

"I'm not recommending they send you home," Dr. Lively said. "I don't give them a diagnosis, I give them a recommendation, and I haven't seen a reason to tell them you can't become a pilot. I am going to tell them that you have a treatment plan and that we should meet up now and then to check on your progress."

That wasn't what Lance had been expecting.

"And what if I don't make progress?" Lance asked.

"I don't expect that that will be the case, but it may then be the case that I would recommend that your treatment would be better suited to a home environment. And to be fair Lance, I didn't diagnose you before you walked in. It's just like you told your engineer last week. Just because you think you know what the problem is doesn't mean you don't still run the diagnostic."

"So, I can stay?" Lance asked.

"The Garrison has invested a lot in you Lance. I think the more important question is do you want to stay?"

"Of course I do," Lance said.

"It seems like it's been a while since you've felt good about your place here, Lance," Dr. Lively said.

"I can get that back," Lance said.

"Good," Dr. Lively said. "I want to work with you on that."

"Isn't anxiety a bit more important than whether or not I have fun in the simulator?" Lance asked.

"I think we'll approach this from both angles," Dr. Lively said.

"I can really stay?"

"My recommendation now is that you do," Dr. Lively said. "But you're going to have to work at taking care of yourself."

"I'm good at working hard," Lance said.

"Good. My first recommendation is that you take a break."

"Um."

"You're not even halfway through your second year and you've been pulling the third year curriculum. It's no wonder your grades have been slipping."

"How is studying ahead bad for my grades?" Lance asked.

"Because you're supposed to be learning this year's material," Dr. Lively said. "From now on I don't want you practicing anything that you won't be covering in class within the next month."

"But I need to be prepared," Lance said.

"You will be," Dr. Lively said. "Everything you've been teaching yourself will get taught in due time. You need to give yourself time to learn it when it's time to learn it. Next, I need you to dedicate yourself to eight hours of sleep each night."

"But I need the time," Lance protested.

"Plenty of accidents happen because people haven't been sleeping," Dr. Lively said. "But more importantly, it's good for your mental health."

There was a lot more. There was self care. There was talking more to his family. There was literally mandatory fun. One of the interesting things though was that he literally got prescribed time in the simulator over a couple of weekends. Not with the regular scenarios, but the sort of scenarios where he got to try out a dogfight with an enemy jet, no science officer, no engineer, just Lance trying to pull off as many tricky maneuvers as he could. There was another scenario where he literally got to dodge around comets like he was in the millennium falcon. There weren't any system failures, there was just piloting for the fun of it.

A lot of what Dr. Lively had counseled him on wasn't easy though. Trying to let go of what had happened was hard. He felt a bit better when he tracked down a new poster online to replace the one he'd torn down weeks earlier, this one with the whole crew instead of just Shiro, though it was a lot pricier now.

"What's that," Pidge asked.

"Face mask," Lance said. "You want one?"

"Umm… face masks are for girls," Pidge said.

"Suit yourself," Lance said. "But you're right. Face masks are for girls, and they're going to be all over me when my acne clears up."

Girls were once more on Lance's mind. He had gone into town with Hunk a few days prior. It had been the first time he'd gone into town in ages. Lance had actually managed to strike up a few conversations with some of the local girls and he was looking forward to an opportunity to try again.

"Hey, you should come out with us," Lance said. They had a terrible team dynamic and Lance had been too focused on his own shit to take care of it like he should. "There's these caverns outside town. With um… shit… estalactita- what's the English?"

"Stalagtite," Pidge provided. "I've got better things to do than hang out in a cave."

"It's not about the cave," Lance said. "It's about hanging out outside of the garrison. As a team."

"Hanging out as a team in a cave," Pidge said.

"There could be some girls there," Lance said.

"I've got too much on my plate right now," Pidge said.

"Yeah, that's what I would have said a week ago, and look where that got me," Lance said.

"I'm not mindlessly seeking out perfection," Pidge said. "I've got actual goals and plans."

"So what are you working on," Lance said. "You've never said."

"That's proprietary," Pidge said.

"What?" Lance asked, having no idea what the word meant.

"I'm not telling," Pidge said.

"You're not telling me what that word means, or you're not telling me what your project is."

"Both," Pidge said.

"Well Hunk and I are going to go have fun and get girlfriends," Lance said. "You are welcome to join us if you want."

"I'm good," Pidge said.

"Feel free to change your mind," Lance said, grabbing a jar of moisturizer for his hands. Winter in Arizona really dried out his skin.

He had a nightly routine now. And it really was a routine. It started at the same time each night and it ended with him getting in bed and closing his eyes. It was supposed to help him sleep. A part of him kept telling himself that he should be practicing, that he should be worried about systems failures and switched up controls, but he reminded himself that there was a time to worry about those things and just then wasn't it. He focused instead on his skin care and wondered if he'd get a second look from the girls in town if his skin was as flawless as Gyeongs. He bet Gyeong was surrounded by pretty girls wherever he'd wound up.

---

Stumbling upon an abandoned shack with an actual fucking well felt like providence to Keith, and he kept feeling a draw to the caves and canyons in the area. Months went by as he searched, trying to forget the Garrison, and Shiro, and Lance. He was where he was supposed to be. He knew it. He didn't even notice when he turned eighteen, spending his birthday alone in his shack.

The Garrison was located on what was once a much larger military base, and the surrounding desert was still littered with shells and spent munitions and random stuff they'd blown up for target practice. He'd head into Tucson from time to time to sell off scrap metal he found in the desert and to pick up meagre supplies and to raid the library for maps of the area and for information on it's history. Scrap didn't sell for much though, and food was mostly cup of noodles, though trips to the city usually meant he could find some company for the night, and that usually involved dinner. He told himself it was because he was lonely though and not because he was hungry. He told himself it wasn't cheating if Lance would never really be his in this lifetime.

His first big find, after busting though a cave wall, was a tunnel lined with carvings. There was writing in a language he didn't think existed anywhere else on Earth and blue tinted etchings of a lion. It tickled at the back of his memory, like something from a lifetime too far gone.

There was also an array of dots that he couldn't figure out. After that first cave though, he found four more with similar writing and pictures. He was pretty sure the writing was indecipherable, but after carefully copying the dotted arrays and putting them together, he was pretty sure they were star charts as well as planetary positions. Though oddly enough, they were star charts that seemed to match current patterns. If everything was as old as Keith thought it was, then thousands of years of stellar drift meant that the nights sky would have looked a lot different when the caves were carved and sealed up.

It was the memory of one of those old Ancient Aliens episodes on the Mayan Calendar that sparked off the realization that the star charts were supposed to denote a time. Another trip to the library and a lot more math than his class in stellar navigation had left him comfortable with helped him figure out an exact date and time, when the star and planet charts on the cave walls would exactly match the nights sky. It was only a week away.

---

Hunk had been really worried about Lance for a while. Somehow though, his breakdown in the galley seemed to have been the best thing for him. It wasn't like Hunk hadn't been affected by it all either. The disaster just put a fine point on how dangerous space travel was, as his family kept redundantly reminding him. It had been a bit of a surprise though when he'd realized that it was Lance who was taking the whole thing a lot harder than he himself had been. He supported Lance wanting to be safe. Hunk wanted to be safe too, but they'd rather decided to go at it from different angles. When he walked into his room and found Lance playing a computer game with a face mask on, he figured that things were actually turning around.

Just when he was starting to relax though, he realized that it was their other roommate he maybe should have been focusing on. Pidge was just, weird. Like, suspiciously weird.

On paper, everything looked above board. The dude was top of the science track, he knew the systems, and he seemed to have no trouble understanding any of the military lingo, but at the same time, he acted like he'd never been through hell week. He'd supposedly been through Combat Marksmanship the year prior but seemed confused by a lot of the rifle terms Lance threw around.

The thing that really got him though was the questions. Pidge was pretty aloof, just like Francis had been, but Pidge kept asking questions about rumors around school about the Heracles. He asked Hunk about the seminars he'd attended on the Heracles systems. Everything was just weird. It didn't help that Pidge stayed out until just before curfew, and then snuck out later in the night.

The most alarming thing was when Pidge would completely miss the fact that someone was calling his name. Much like everything else about him, his name didn't seem to fit him. Classes with him were also weird, because the guy would always phone it in. It showed that Pidge was the smartest in the science track, but he didn't really seem to care about any of it. Hunk might not have wanted to go to space, but he still loved it. He loved the science behind it, and the engineering that was going to take mankind to the stars, but Pidge almost seemed to sneer at the very idea of it, and Hunk just didn't know what Pidge got from being at the Garrison. Between that and the fact that he looked like a middle schooler, he very much just didn't seem to belong at the Garrison.

People had accused Hunk of being nosy before, but in this case, he was pretty sure it was justified. Pidge kept vaguely alluding to projects he was working on, but Hunk had never actually seen him work on them, and he always carried a bulging backpack whenever he disappeared.

Hunk asked around, but no one in the science track seemed to know anything more about him. The guy was a mystery, and Hunk liked mysteries, but generally he liked mysteries that involved figuring out what had gone wrong with a system. This mystery seemed like the sort of thing that belonged in a novel. Either way, Pidge had earned Hunk's suspicion and he was going to keep digging.

---

It wasn't like he just suddenly got better, but after a few weeks his grades had improved and he'd stopped sliding back in the rankings and he had to admit that Dr. Lively had probably known what she was talking about. By the end of the quarter Lance felt like he was in a good place. Spring break wasn't as fun without Veronica, in part because he had to stay at the Garrison and follow their curfew. Lance spent a lot of time at the community pool in town and when a high school girl named Tina asked him if he could teach her the dolphin stroke Lance was very grateful that Hunk decided to make himself scarce.

Tina didn't even last until the end of spring break, but dating her for a few days had been fun. Lance wasn't even shocked that it hadn't lasted. He knew he wasn't exactly boyfriend material. When he started Saturday movie nights the first weekend of Spring quarter, the first movie he picked was a romcom, since he figured he could probably use a few pointers. Pidge didn't join them.

Lance found that he didn't have to worry about rejoining the swim team. The coach was eager to have him. It was still just an excuse to get in the water, and it was a little nice to have people be impressed with his times. It still wasn't like the team was going anywhere.

Lance had given up a while ago on getting the same dynamic with the fighter pilots that he'd had with the support pilots. He found eventually that it was just better to just keep up with his friends from Support. There was still a toxic air of competition in flight ops, but Lance was just focusing on his own performance, or rather on his teams'. Pidge still didn't really mesh well with them, even though he was probably the best science officer in their year.

Pidge didn't really usually engage with Lance, but with a bit of prodding Lance figured out some of his interests, and when he told Pidge that their next movie was going to be a cyberpunk thriller from the fifties he actually got the whole team together outside of a class activity. That first time watching Epsilon and the Weight of Tomorrow, a horribly schlocky movie, Pidge had actually looked misty eyed by the end, which made zero sense. Pidge didn't suddenly become sociable, and Lance hadn't been expecting him to be, nor did he just restrict movie night to cyberpunk flicks (he still needed to learn more about romance), but he seemed a bit more relaxed around them. It was only when Pidge started to relax a bit around him that Lance realized that the other boy had always been a bit on edge all the time. It had been too long since he'd been focused on being a good team lead.

It helped when Veronica landed back on Earth and Lance got to video chat with her for the first time in over six months. She was a bit exhausted from a high op tempo, but she was thrilled with her first mission and she swore to tell him all about it when her post mission operations were done and she was shipped back to the Garrison. Before the end of the call Mamá and Papá had joined into the call and Lance was really glad to see the relief on their faces. Hopefully they'd get used to things before Lance's first mission off planet.

Lance started rising again in the ranks as the quarter progressed, and he rather thought it was a combination of not just his own hard work and new self care routine, but also he did feel that their team dynamic had improved in the simulator. When he started worrying less about his team, he could focus more on his flying, and somewhere along the line flying had become fun again. That, more than anything, was when he really started to improve. It was sort of like the rifle with Tío Mateo, or swimming laps, or combat marksmanship when they'd gotten really into team operations the year prior. There got to be a point where he'd sit in the cockpit and everything would just click. Hunk told him he was in the zone.

One person who never seemed to be impressed was Commander Iverson. The guy was in charge of the training and research branches at the garrison but as a former fighter pilot he stalked the simulator and loved to give his two cents whenever cadets rotated out. He liked to yell a lot too. Pidge seemed to hate the guy, and Lance had had to manage a couple of careful distractions to keep the guy from paying attention to some rather blatant disrespect.

Veronica eventually came back to America and Lance got to give her the biggest hug when her maglev pulled into the station. It was going to be a couple of weeks of filling out post mission reports and other paperwork for her and then she'd be joining him for his two weeks of Summer Vacation in Varadero. On the way back to base she told him about exploring Titan, and about Mars Station. He extracted a promise from her to join his next movie night and figured he'd need to find another cyberpunk movie if he was going to get Pidge to join in. There had to be some other genre he was into. Lance would have to do some sleuthing.

Summer vacation was great. The twins were getting so big, he was pretty bummed to have missed their tenth birthday, but he made up for it by taking them to a summer fair in Havana. Lance wore a Galaxy Garrison shirt and introduced himself as a cadet to as many girls as he could manage. Rolando made gagging noises every time Lance tried to charm a girl so it was no wonder none of them gave him the time of day. Rolando would figure it out soon enough. Lance was a bit worried that Camila already had since she paid a bit too much attention to an older boy who had sat next to her on the tilt a whirl.

Veronica was still readjusting to Earth's gravity and had a bit of a workout routine she had to follow so Lance worked out with her to keep her company. Of course he spent as much time as he could on the beach when he wasn't getting roped into helping out at the hotel. Luis had graduated with his degree in business administration and was trying to reorganize the whole hotel. Papá wanted to send him out to get his MBA and Lance wondered if he just wanted a reprieve.

It was a good vacation, the sort that left you melancholy when it was over. Veronica was chewing up her leave after six months in space and stayed an additional week while Lance went back for Summer quarter. He'd missed the simulator though.

---

The flight back to Germany had been the longest five hours of Katie's life. Another airport bathroom change saw her back into a dress she'd picked out in town, and as soon as she was through the gate she flung herself into her mother's arms.

"Oh Katie, I've missed you."

Pidge had missed Katie also. She told Mom all about the sensor project she was working on during the ride to base, minus the more interesting tidbits. She talked about trips to the beach, and a whale watching trip and all sorts of activities she'd been able to photoshop herself into. Mom told her about her own projects, and about life in Germany. There was a new restaurant in town she wanted to take her to that night. They'd only been home for about a half an hour before mom brought up Kerberos.

"I wished I could have been with you when the Heracles report came out," Mom said. "I'm sure that was hard for you."

Katie had to stop herself from saying anything, because she wanted to scream that it was a hoax, a sham, it was nothing but lies. She was still figuring things out though. She wasn't ready to pull the wool away from everyone's eyes. She'd never been angrier in her life, though, than when she'd read that report.

'Fuel Oxidizer stress had been planned for…'

'A routine check would have identified this malfunction…'

'All crew members had assigned checks to be performed before any takeoff procedure…'

'We have concluded from the relevant data that this accident was preventable, and there were appropriate preventative procedures in place that appear to have been ignored by the assigned crew member…'

'The Heracles disaster was caused by negligence on the part of the pilot…'

They were all lies, and what they'd done to Shiro wasn't even the worst part of the coverup.

She'd been quiet for too long.

"Oh sweetie," Mom said, grabbing her in a hug. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Mom had been so happy when she picked her up at the airport. She'd been happier than Pidge had seen her since the launch. She put on a smile.

"I'm okay," she said. "Really. Come on. Let's go into town. You need to show me around."

It was a really good two weeks. She could almost forget that she was supposed to be Pidge.

---

First Monday in and classes took off like they'd never left. Lance was in for a bit of a surprise during his first day of Combat Marksmanship of the quarter. There he was, three quarters into learning how to be a sneaky assed sniper, plopped down in his hide with his rifle pointed downrange when Chief Petty Officer Barnard plopped down next to him and nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Relax cadet, you'll need a bit more training before you'll be able to see me coming," he said.

"Chief, this is my hide, how'd you do that?" Lance asked.

"Come back with gold and maybe I'll tell you, Cadet."

"Gold, Chief?"

"Pack your bags Cadet, you ship out to Fort Benning Thursday night."

"Fort Benning?"

"American Army base in Georgia," Chief said. "East coast. They're hosting the International Military Sports Council this year for the World Marksmanship Championship. You and Cadet Rice from third year are going to represent our school here in the cadet brackets. You're competing in the quarter mile scope, and the rifle close quarters movement events. Also, do I remember you mentioning you grew up on iron sights?"

"Yes Chief, my Tío taught me."

"Good, I'll sign you up for the three hundred meter iron sights event as well.

"That sounds amazing Chief, I'll definitely bring back gold. What about classes though."

"Your grades are good," Chief said. "You're only missing Friday and Monday and you've already been excused. Each of the Galaxy Garrison schools are sending cadets, and you're going to be reporting to Petty Officer Song from the Asia Division when you arrive. You'll be under Cadet Rice for the duration and I expect you two to stick together while you're traveling."

"Yes, Chief. I won't let you down."

"Do us proud Cadet, now how about you tell me what you've got in your sight downrange."

---

Lance woke up in a cold sweat and took a moment to realize that he wasn't on the Heracles. A few deep breaths later and he looked around. Barracks bays were never properly dark at night. The eight other male Galaxy Garrison cadets that had been assembled for the event were spread out in the bay. They were sharing with cadets from West Point and some school from South Africa whose name Lance couldn't remember.

Lance checked his watch and considered calling the hotel front desk to see who was working the graveyard shift. It would probably just be an employee though. Realistically, nobody was going to be up. Mamá would still pick up if he called though. He picked up his phone but instead of calling anyone he just plugged in his headphones and tried to drown out the silence. He blamed the nightmare on having skipped his nightly routine and brought up his hands to his face like he was massaging in the ointment.

The following morning Petty Officer Song got them up early for a light PT and breakfast. Along with the girls from the next bay over, there were twelve of them representing the Galaxy Garrison and Lance was looking forward to actually getting to know the students from the other branches. Lance got to observe the first couple of events before he and three of the other cadets got called for the quarter mile scope event. There were over forty cadets in the event and Summertime in Georgia provided the perfect climate for a challenging sniper shot. Lance placed fourth. Sort of like his first time in the simulator he'd sort of let his dreams of gold become his expectation, but he knew that fourth wasn't bad. He wouldn't be competing in his next event till the following day so Lance stuck to Cadet Rice until he went off for the twenty-five meter pistol event. Lance had never even held a pistol.

That night, Lance followed his nightly routine, even though he got a few stares from the other guys. He slept like a baby.

The following day he competed in the close quarters movement event which was a timed event that included a course he was supposed to make his way through and a number of popup targets, some of which he wasn't supposed to shoot. There were only twenty cadets competing and Lance was ecstatic to place second. Then of course he stuck around and watched the enlisted bracket for the same event and realized that he was still outclassed by the much more experienced riflemen. A couple hours later, Cadet Rice came by and ran the same course with a pistol coming in fifth out of the thirty-two cadets.

The following day was Lance's last event on iron sights. There were almost two hundred cadets competing and Lance placed tenth, which was disappointing. That night there was a mixer and Lance got to mingle with cadets from all over the world while Petty Officer Song got to go to a similar mixer for the enlisted. When Lance got back on Monday he was feeling pretty good about himself. He hadn't brought home gold, but realistically he'd known that no one had expected him to. The Galaxy Garrison was a military organization but ground force combat arms was practically an afterthought for the organization. Chief was happy with the silver medal Lance brought back.

Lance had missed a day in the simulator which of course meant pulling out the mockpit and convincing Pidge to join him and Hunk to go over the scenario he'd missed. Pidge had been starting to grow on him. As surly as the other boy was, he had an impish sense of humor that had taken a bit for Lance to get used to and Lance decided that this was going to be the quarter that they became a proper team. What they really needed was an adventure.

"Sneak out with me tonight," Lance said.

"Why would I do that?" Pidge asked.

"Seconded," Hunk said.

"You sneak out all the time," Lance accused Pidge. He knew he could turn Hunk around with a bit of time.

"I don't leave the Garrison," Pidge said.

"And where exactly do you go?" Hunk asked. Hunk had never liked not knowing.

"To work on my project in peace," Pidge said.

"Come on," Lance said. "The Dungeon's going to be half empty on a Thursday, we can have most of the games to ourselves."

Here he saw Pidge's eyes widen for just a moment and he realized he'd actually hit on something. Of course a moment later it was gone and Pidge turned back to his computer.

"Have fun you two," Pidge said.

"I never said I was going," Hunk said.

Lance narrowed his eyes at Pidge and decided to scope out the games at the Dungeon. If he could figure out which one Pidge probably liked he could lure the other boy into their adventure.

That night he and Hunk snuck out and in spite of Hunk's predictions of doom and gloom it was a roaring success. None of the games really stuck out to him as something Pidge would like though. He'd figure something out for the following Thursday.

---

Iverson was careful with everything. Whatever sensor data they had gotten from the Osiris had been scrubbed from the system and wasn't on any computer Pidge had access to. He was also careful with his emails. It took Pidge a while to refine her scrubbers but by the end of her first month at the Garrison, she'd managed to find something that was actually relevant. He received some rather vague but regular emails, from about a month before the Heracles had landed on Kerberos to the present.

'Three incidents this week. All processed. No contamination.'

That was a typical email. Iverson never responded. It only took a bit of digging to find that the sender, Jamal Hussein, was a man who worked for SETI. Hacking his email took a bit, but after a while she got access, and from there she was able to bypass the anti-virus on his email server and send him a trojan from his own account. SETI did a lot, but one of the things they were famous for was looking for Extra Terrestrial activity in radio waves. Hussein, it seemed, worked directly with that program. He also sent the emails from his personal computer which had absolutely no crossover with his work computer. It took her another month to get access to the SETI network and she started analyzing data packets.

It took her a week to find the little bot in the network that was also scrubbing data packets before they could get into the database. It captured some, deleting them from the traffic and sending them to a SETI IP address every time. Pidge was able to follow the traffic and inserted another trojan into the pipeline. Then she had access to all of the packets that had been sent from the beginning. Pidge's heart started hammering in her chest when she opened the first intercept. Reading it though, it was mostly gibberish.

SETI still relied on the same old dish network it had been using for almost a century. The fact of the matter was that there were more advanced networks doing the same thing for the Garrison, and those probably were able to clearly receive the transmissions. The reason SETI was flagging the packets wasn't because there was anything interesting in them that they could detect, more likely it was for where they were coming from. The time stamp and location data was the only thing in the packets that was readable. Pidge extracted all of the time stamps and triangulation data and processed it in a spatial viewer.

The first thing that was wrong, was that almost all of them were coming from inside the Earth. Which made zero sense. There were only two packets that were outside of Earth and both of those were from Kerberos. Checking the timestamp, her breath caught seeing that they were captured just before and not long after the Heracles landed. Pidge analyzed them to determine if there was any similarity to the others. She still couldn't wrap her head around transmissions coming from inside the earth.

They were all the same gibberish. But two of the packets that centered inside the Earth were identical to the two packets from Kerberos, and the same amount of time apart. Pidge checked the time differences between the Kerberos transmissions and realized that it was about the amount of time she'd expect for a radio transmission to reach Earth from Kerberos. So right before the Heracles landed a transmission was made from inside the Earth, at the same time the exact same transmission was made from near Kerberos. About a day later the process was repeated. A new transmission from inside the Earth and an identical transmission from Kerberos.

Pidge opened up one of the Earth packets and examined the raw triangulation data. Frowning, she mapped the Earth stations that had picked up the transmission and the individual timestamps that each one had received it. This didn't make any sense either, since everything was too close together time-wise. As in, the transmission was traveling through space, hitting one receiver and then the next faster than it would have taken the speed of light to go from one to the other. The transmissions weren't coming from Earth, the computer wasn't actually triangulating the data, it was giving a best estimate with the information it had, zeroing out to somewhere around the middle of the Earth.

None of that made sense though. There was no way the signal could have been traveling faster than light. She shook her head. Matt would tell her that you never started a problem by stating what was impossible. She looked at the Kerberos packets again. What if there weren't four transmissions, but two, and each transmission traveled at two speeds. The speed of light, which the receivers picked up and properly triangulated and another that confused the computer and had it shooting out that best guess.

But then why had all of the other transmissions only had the one copy coming from within the Earth, and nothing from space so many hours prior. Assuming that all of the transmissions that showed as originating from within the Earth originated from somewhere else, and that the problem was that the transmission was traveling at a speed faster than light, and assuming that that speed was constant for each transmission, Pidge could extrapolate and figure out what that speed was and retriangulate. So working off of the idea that the transmission from Kerberos and the transmission that had been picked up hours later were actually transmitted at the same exact time, Pidge crunched the numbers and got a really really big number. Like this was data that was traveling at several hundred thousand times the speed of light.

"Matt, I know what you're going to say, but that's impossible."

The mapping program she was using with the triangulation data didn't have a variable setting for the speed of light, so Pidge had to make some adjustments. Eventually though, she got it working and it mapped out everything properly.

The first transmission, from about a month before the Heracles landed, was from around Alpha Centauri, the next one was Proxima Centauri, both stars particularly close to Earth. If Pidge was wrong about the speed of the transmissions, and she'd just told the computer to retriangulate the transmissions on a completely bonkers parameter, the odds of the first two transmissions coming from actual solar systems and not random corners of space was astronomically small. Pidge watched a time progression of the transmissions as they hopped around from solar system to solar system in their own little corner of the galaxy. It took Pidge a moment to realize it was a search pattern.

That didn't make any sense though. Those stars were lightyears apart from one another and from Earth. The only way for someone to travel that quickly from star to star would be to have the technology to not only send data at a speed faster than light, but also to travel as well.

"Oh my god," Pidge said. Someone was traveling faster than the speed of light.

"Oh My God," Pidge said again. That was technology way more advanced than anything on Earth.

"OH MY GOD," Pidge yelled and clamped her hands over her mouth.

"Motherfucking Aliens," Pidge whispered to herself from her hideout on the roof of the dormitory. Her heart stuttered. Aliens had blown up the Heracles? Why? It didn't make any sense. Go explore the galaxy, destroy the first space ship you come across, and then, she checked the log, move on to the next solar system?

The thing was though, that they were looking for something. Or at least they were doing some sort of search grid. So it really wouldn't make sense to just kill anyone you came across.

"They could be alive," Pidge realized. After months of searching for answers, this just brought up so many more questions.

More than that, she felt an anger stronger than she had known was possible. Anger at the officers who had let this happen. They'd been intercepting these communications since well before the Heracles had reached Kerberos. Pidge watched the progression of transmissions play over and over again, watching as each time they arrived at Kerberos. The Garrison wouldn't have had the transmission from Kerberos at the time to compare to, but anyone who looked at the raw data would have eventually come to the same conclusion that Pidge had. They had enough reference points to figure out the speed. They would have seen the same search pattern, they would have seen that the aliens were coming to earth. They could have warned them, they could have diverted the mission. The Kerberos mission, every mission out past Mars in fact, should have been scrubbed the instant they realized there were mother fucking aliens searching the area. It was beyond negligence to send her brother, her father, and Shiro out alone to the far reaches of their solar system knowing that that kind of threat was present. They'd been like lambs led to the slaughter. No, lambs sacrificed on the alter of secrecy that the Garrison had presented an illusion of 'business as usual' to uphold. She wanted to march up to Iverson and demand answers, to hold him accountable for his silence. She couldn't though. She still wasn't ready.

She spent the following day in a bit of a daze as she processed everything.

"Hey dude, you okay?" Lance asked.

As much as hyper-fixated-Lance had been an annoyance, zen-Lance was even worse, particularly since he had begun to pay way too much attention to her.

"I'm fine," Pidge said.

"You've been working pretty hard lately. Do you want to play Dragon Wrangler when we get done with classes?"

"Nope," Pidge said.

"Seriously, you've got to take time for self care," Lance said.

"Science is self care," Pidge said.

"You're sure everything's okay?" Lance asked.

"I'm doing fine," Pidge said. "Really."

She just had to wrap her mind around the idea of aliens having abducted her family.

A lot of Garrison systems were sandboxed, meaning there was no physical way for data to travel outside of the system. Pidge was sure that the Galaxy Garrisons much more advanced sensors had probably gotten better readings on those transmissions, but wherever they were, she didn't have access. In the end, she decided the best bet was to make her own sensors. The SETI data was enough to calibrate them properly and before she knew it she had her own packets to play with. Then she just had to figure out how to process them.

Lance continued to try to get her to have fun, or open up or whatever. The thing was, that he was actually a good listener, and sometimes he got her talking about classes and the next thing she knew she was talking about science projects she'd worked on years ago, Lance nodding along like it all made sense to him. She'd missed having someone she could really talk to like that, outside of her near daily quick updates with her mom. Lance felt familiar sometimes and one day while she was talking about her fusion reactor she almost brought up Matt, which was off limits, and then she realized that somehow the great buffoon reminded her of Matt and that was not right. He was nothing like Matt. No one was like Matt. Matt didn't need replacing, because he was still out there. He was still out there, and Pidge was going to get him back.

---

"What did you take your harness off for?" Lance asked Pidge, watching anxiously as he clutched at his head as they walked out of the simulator.

"You wouldn't shut off the alarm," Pidge said. "And I couldn't reach. Why couldn't you just fly in a straight line?"

"The Hydraulic Stabilizer cut out," Lance protested.

"Because you decided to do a shimmy," Hunk said. "You know flight throws up technical issues when you fool around."

Lance shrugged. "It's free sim. And I would like to put forth that any ship that has Hunk Garret for an engineer can handle a little shimmy. How's your head?"

"It's fine, Lance," Pidge said, brushing him off.

"And just what in the twisted recesses of space did you cadets think you were doing?"

Lance had not known that Commander Iverson would be watching.

"Sir," Lance said. "Just trying to push the limits of our training Sir."

"Who can tell me what these cadets did wrong?" Commander Iverson asked the assembled cadets waiting their turn.

"The engineer vomited in the main hydraulics compartment," Cadet Blevins pointed out.

"The science officer removed his safety harness," Cadet Lang said.

"The pilot put unnecessary stress on his vessel in order to show off," Cadet Freeman said.

"All correct," Commander Iverson. "Piss poor teamwork too. Now I've seen first years in their first week of crew operations make worse mistakes but not by much. It is exactly these lax attitudes and carelessness that got the crew of the Heracles killed."

"That's not true," Pidge said mutinously. Lance slapped a hand over his mouth.

"What was that cadet?"

"Minor head injury," Lance said pointing to the small bruise forming at Pidge's temple. "I was just going to get him to med bay."

"See that you do, and make sure he doesn't make any other phenomenal blunders on his way. I suppose that leaves Kilisi to clean the hydraulics compartment. This sim is closed for the time being cadets. Get in line on sims three and four."

Lance shot Hunk an apologetic look as he guided Pidge down the hall, relieved that he didn't have to help clean up.

"You've got to watch yourself with Iverson," Lance said. "He's not the guy you want looking at you too closely." He wasn't sure what special project Pidge had tucked away somewhere, but he was pretty sure he didn't want the higher ups looking at it anymore than he wanted Lance to.

"He takes every chance to talk trash about the Heracles crew," Pidge said, sounding almost on the verge of tears. "I'm sick of his bullshit."

"Look, I know it's bullshit," Lance said, which got a surprised look from Pidge. "But you're not going to change anything mouthing off like that. You want to talk to me about the bullshit, I'll listen, but that's got to stay between us, okay?"

"You know he isn't just in charge of the training program," Pidge said. "He's also in charge of the research team that designed half of brand new parts that were on the Heracles. Which means he was responsible for the investigation."

"Yeah," Lance said. "And I also figured out that it probably wasn't a coincidence that he took over from Commander Simmons right after the Kerberos disaster."

"Bingo," Pidge said. "You tore down your poster of the Heracles the week I got here."

"Yeah," Lance said. "That was stupid."

"Then you put a new one back up."

"Look, I don't really know what happened," Lance said. "I think the point is that no one really does. But they were all amazing people and they all signed up to shoot off to the edge of the solar system in an experimental spacecraft and that's… " He tried not to think about the Heracles most of the time, but he'd been serious when he'd told Pidge that he was there to talk if he needed it. That's what a team leader was for. "That's the future of humanity right there. We need heroes like that and then that report just uses a bunch of supposition to make out like it was all their fault when who knows what really caused it to crash."

Pidge nodded. "They are heroes," he said. There were actual tears in his eyes. "But I don't think it was supposition. It was a god damned coverup."

"Covering what up?" Lance asked.

"All sorts of things," Pidge hedged, and here the other boy shut down.

Lance figured this wasn't a hallway conversation.

"You need some time off," Lance said. "Sneak out with us tonight."

"Oh my god," Pidge said, exasperated.

"Iverson practically just ordered us to work on teamwork. He's got no one to blame but himself if we sneak out tonight as a team."

"I've got my project," Pidge said. "Things are heating up."

"Things?" Lance prodded.

Pidge shook his head.

"You know they've got Mecha Strike Three at the dungeon," Lance said, a shot in the dark.

Pidge snorted. "Try again," he said. "Later, try again later."

That night would be later.

---

A/N: An alternative title for next chapter is Lance saves the world but that probably won't get him a girlfriend. Hope you liked it. Part one is almost over. Let me know what you think.