How Far I've Come (Keith x Reader)

❖ Escape; Chapter Eight ❖

~[About Three Months Later]~

You sit restlessly in your cell, itching internally for another plan or flight pattern on this disgustingly intricate ship to fail.

It was never your choice to become the most vulnerable and intelligent pilot the species had ever seen. Or, to be a pilot for this species to see in the first place. But nowadays, piloting for them is the only thing that keeps you sane. You are grateful that you can continue doing what you love, but you hate who you do it for in the darkest pit of your heart.

All you wanted to do when you first dreamt of going to space was pilot. When you saw that Moon Landing Documentary for the first time, you decided that you wanted to be responsible for the whole event - the one who would be remembered. (Your small, innocent eight year old self couldn't stop watching it for about an entire year of your life). You had never imagined that you would end up being remembered this way - probably dead or dying at the vast ends of the solar system.

You had merely planned to land a spacecraft on a beautiful, untouched moon, live the most amazing, breathtaking experience of your life, write about it, then go home to publish a book about your findings. To push past the cheering crowds and see Keith. To go back to the Garrison and graduate top of your classes, and maybe go to space again in the future. But now, everything in your future is uncertain. Your future will probably lead to you dying in this very cell.

You go by a lot of names here. Y/n, "wench", "woman". Though, the most popular choice tends to be something along the lines of "Zarkon's shiny, new co-piloting toy". He's been using you lately to help him develop ways to attack harder, use less fuel, invade smarter. And by help, you obviously mean "do it all for him and then he takes all of the credit".

You hate it. You hate it with every last atom in your being, but what choice did you have? You plan on escaping soon anyways, so might as well get your bought of complaint out soon. They won't evolve past what you've taught them when you're gone. They don't have the brains, only unholy amounts of brawn.

The routine you've been living by became obsolete in these past few months anyway. They don't use you as much as they used to, you are an asset past it's prime. You are called only now called when Zarkon doesn't know what to do, when he's stuck-in-a-pit helpless. Most of the time, he summons you to strategize and plan for his next step in universal domination. Flattering, sure, but "foolish recommendations" would earn you a glare so hard that it's basically a slap in the face.

Zarkon is a quick learner though, despite being a universally-known, fear-embodied tyrant. He's learning little by little from your methods, so your presence is becoming less and less needed every time you're brought to him. He raids you with questions about how to improve his craft, in fact, last time you didn't even touch any controls. You just answered.

Effect of this; You have been in your shared cell with Shiro for eleven days straight, a brand new record, even beating Shiro's old nine-day fear. Another one of Shiro's great streaks has been broken by you, except, you don't really want to compete in this one. Impressive anyway, right?

Wrong.

This is insanely depressing.

Speaking of, something else that makes you fidgety aboard this anxiety-inducing ship is Shiro. He's fighting in the arena this afternoon, and even though he always comes back, you worry about him. (And silently pray for his safety every time he's forced to put his life on the line for Galra entertainment.)