She didn’t have time for this. Robotics was more Hunk’s thing, she preferred programming and computers. Zarkon’s flagship would be little more than a fancy bucket floating in the void of space if not for her keeping the systems’ programming up to snuff, far more advanced than any other in the entire galaxy, and the Komar could lick her toes about that. So why was she the one in charge of making upgrades to the Komar’s new pet again? “Look, as much as I love the idea of having the honor of equipping the Champion with new upgrades, that guy’s so scary!” Hunk had sobbed into Pidge’s com. “He’s so big and gruff looking, and his eyes are like two black holes trying to suck in the light of your soul. He killed six Narsysans at once in last week’s death match, Pidge. SIX!!” “Then why are you sending me to him!?” “Because you’re not me? And you wouldn’t care, anyway.” Hunk had gotten that much right, at least, Pidge really didn’t care. The Champion was just a Galra like all the rest of them. She scratched one of her fuzzy purple ears in irritation. There was a new weapons protocol calling her by name, practically on its knees begging for an upgrade with a shiny new code she was eager to test, but instead of spending a lovely Tuesday afternoon tinkering with that, she had to go tinker with the Komar’s weird cybernetics. Mixing biology with robotics left a bad taste in her mouth. Maybe because she didn’t care for anything organic. Or maybe it was just the Komar themselves that skeeved her out, the magic they used, nothing that could be explained by the science she knew of this reality. Unnatural. “Let’s get this over with,” she announced as she stepped into the cybergnostics room where the Champion received his usual upgrades. Then stopped in her tracks, fuzzy purple ears perking up from her head of honey-brown hair. “Hello,” the man sitting in the chair greeted. His pleasant smile and the silver of his prosthetic gleaming a gentle lilac as it rested on the small table next to him gave him a relaxed demeanor in spite of the horrific pain he was about to endure here in a couple of minutes. Such upgrades were far more efficient if they were already hooked to his nerve-endings, like tailoring a suit, and the Galra scientists treated it as such. Hunk had been right about another thing (and Hunk was rarely wrong to begin with, Pidge was sometimes loathed to admit), this guy was BIG. Tall. Muscular. Biceps the size of her head, legs as long as three of her, the straining seams of his slave uniform barely able to contain the round chest from bursting through the flimsy fabric. But that wasn’t the focus of Pidge’s attention (a good portion of it, but not her entire attention). His face was so… soft. Gentle. The little bangs sticking from his head of white hair was actually rather cute. His smile was like staring a little too long at a nearby star. THIS was the Champion!?!?!“Um, hi,” Pidge replied, adjusting her glasses as if she could shield her eyes from that bright smile. “I’m Pidge.”“You’re not my usual guy,” the Champion remarked, and she noted the obvious relief beneath his otherwise casual tone. “Hunk was caught up in other stuff, so you’ll have to settle for me today,” she answered. She concentrated to the best of her ability gathering the tools she needed. His voice was gentle and soothing, easy to respond to. Hard to believe he killed hundreds in the Gladiator ring. “It’s nice to meet you, Pidge.”Was he always this polite? Pidge preferred it if he would just leave her to her work, but then she wondered if maybe this was the only time he actually got to talk to someone outside of his cell. The Champion of the Arena lived a life of luxury and pleasure, but a cell was a cell all the same no matter how prettily decorated. His tattered uniform and the way he was forced to fight to the death for the sick pleasure of their violent race served as reminders that he would always be a slave and tossed away without a thought the moment he stopped being amusing. “You haven’t told me your name,” she pointed out while laying out her tools in a meticulous row on her work tray in the order she would need them. He replied promptly, like an obedient soldier. “One-one-seven-dash-nine-“ “Your real name.”His eyes widened, thrown off-guard by her rather invasive question. Their gazes locked, and Pidge saw that Hunk actually had been wrong about something for once. His eyes were dark but not like black holes trying to suck the light of your soul or whatever. They were like space itself, filled with stars. Being a gladiator hadn’t taken the shine out of his eyes… at least, not yet. He laughed, a soft chuckle from his chest that made Pidge’s face grow as red as the stripes on her cheeks. “Sorry, I… I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before. It’s Shiro. My name is Shiro.”Unsure how to respond, Pidge gave him a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too, um, Shiro.”There was definitely something about him that was very un-Galra. She wondered if he might be a half-breed, although technically, when yours is a star-faring race that bangs the whole universe to keep the population alive, pureblood is more of a concept based on family names than something actually literal. White hair. Pointy ears. Typical purple skin of a Galra, light but not light enough to hide the curious crescent-shaped white marks beneath his eyes. Something about those marks struck a familiar cord within Pidge, like she had seen them before.For some reason, she was reminded of a story of a Galra who protected some certain Princess of an ancient planet before it had been wiped out. Everyone knew of the Alteans who had betrayed them, destroyed the Galran homeworld, and therefore had been vanquished in return in Emperor Zarkon’s swift sense of justice, long may he reign. That Galran bodyguard, that traitor, remained loyal to his princess until the end. But that was almost a thousand years ago. Barely more than legend at this point. Something forbidden and almost romantic if you allowed yourself to look at it that way. Pidge pushed those thoughts aside and set to work. She needed to concentrate on these upgrades. She pulled his arm a bit closer to her (she had short arms, after all) and braced herself for the screaming. He didn’t make a sound. While soldering wires to ligaments, she kept glancing at Shiro to make sure he was okay. He didn’t make a peep, and only the sweat beading down his face betrayed the immense pain he had to be feeling. Now she understood why someone with such soft features and soft words became the Champion.And she now understood why Hunk just couldn’t bear doing this job anymore.
