Chapter Text
“We are all made from the dust of stars.”
It’s what Keith’s father used to say. Whenever Keith asked about his mom—who she was, when she’d be coming back—his dad would point to the sky and say, “she’s out there somewhere, sailing among the stars.” Keith always worried; what if she was lonely? Didn’t she want to be with her family? But his dad would just smile, and tell him, “we’re with her right now. All of us are made of the same stardust; she’ll never truly be alone as long as she’s out there. We’ll see her when the universe is ready to bring her back to us.”
Then one day Dad went out to work at the spaceport, and the universe never brought him back.
Keith’s never been the poetic type. Stardust is just stardust, and loneliness is something chronic and painful. He can’t fix it just by looking up at the sky and imagining the vague shape of his mother in the stars and gas clouds of the Milky Way. And when they shipped him down to Earth, left him in Matron Ingrid’s care, he just felt that much further away.
But more than anything, Keith’s always been a survivor. So he made it work; he avoided the other kids and found hobbies that let him turn off his brain and work on pure instinct. He might not be a genius but he’s a quick thinker and good with his hands—mechanic’s hands, people have said, working hands. Sometimes Keith wonders if his dad would be proud of who he’s become. If his mom would recognize him.
Thoughts like that bog him down. Keith thinks too hard and too deep, tends to get caught up in his own head if he lets his brain run too long.
Which is why he’s here. Wind whips through long strands of his black hair, turning the field of long grass into a shimmering ocean, extending further that Keith can see. Nobody comes out here anymore; it’s a bad memory overgrown with nature like an ugly scar. Keith likes the silence.
He takes a deep breath, lungs filling with clean air. Then he turns to his bike, hovering over the sea of silvery grass a few feet away, solar energy glowing soft and warm beneath it. Despite her shoddy appearance, Keith loves the damn thing. It’s a patchwork of red metal and various old parts that have no place being on the same bike. She’s ugly as hell and barely functional—the engine still runs too hot, and the hover-propulsion system is just as likely to work as it is to completely break down. But the important thing is that she’s Keith’s. Orphans don’t get many possessions.
Keith pats her flank like she’s an animal, overheated metal almost painful even through his leather gloves. Then he climbs astride the bike, legs settled comfortably on either side of the narrow machine, and revs the engine. It rumbles to life beneath him, loud like the roar of a lion.
“Alright, girl,” he says, his words immediately carried away by the wind. “Let’s do this.”
A sharp grin stretches across Keith’s face as him and his bike shoot forward over the grass. Adrenaline shoots through his veins, lighting up his nerves with exhilaration. Wind rushes through his hair and hot metal stings against his inner thighs and this—this is who he is.
The edge of a cliff rapidly approaches, a sheer drop into a mined-out trench below. Keith leans forward on his bike and speeds up. His heart is thudding in his ears, bright anticipation tinged with the bitter edge of fear flooding his body. He grins as the drop approaches—the bottom of the trench is so far down it’s obscured by a layer of mist, and from this angle it looks endless.
Keith shoots out over the edge of the cliff, suspended in the air above a bottomless pit. Then he tightens his fingers around the handlebars and cuts the engines.
For a moment he’s weightless, long hair floating around his head like he’s in zero-G. Then gravity kicks in and he’s falling, his hunk of scrap metal tumbling down into the abyss. Keith leans into it, tilts forward until it’s a nosedive, the front of his bike cutting clean through the air.
“C’mon,” he snarls through a grin, his heart in his throat and a fierce energy coursing through his body like a wildfire. “C’mon, almost—almost—“
Keith shoves himself to one side, pulling the entire bike with him—and then he’s in a spin, spiraling faster and faster, gravity and G-force pulling his body away from his bike. He keeps his knees tight, body pressed along the length of his bike, spinning faster and faster until all he can see is a sharp blur of the cliff wall and the mist.
‘Alright,’ Keith thinks to himself, tightening his hands so hard around the handlebars his arms are trembling. ‘Just like always.’ His heart is hammering so hard it’s painful but he takes a deep breath, letting his eyes drift shut.
Then he pulls up his knees and kicks away from the body of the bike.
Centrifugal force takes over immediately and Keith’s entire body goes flying; only his grip tight around the handlebars keeps him attached to the bike. Him and the bike spin and somersault over one another and he opens his eyes to see nothing but flashes—red metal and brown dirt and white mist and bright blue sky. A scream tears itself from his throat, body overflowing with pure energy.
Cold, wet air hits his skin, dampness immediately soaking through his hair and his jacket. Shit. Keith folds his arms in, pulls his chest up against the handlebars of his bike. Now he just needs to get his legs—his arms shake from the effort of holding himself and he grits his teeth, hips fighting against centrifugal force to approach the bike.
He can see the ground now. Only in flashes—the bike’s still spinning out of control—but if it’s close enough that he can see it he’s only got a few more seconds. Keith swings his legs forward with all his strength and a wordless cry. His foot hooks under the seat and he tugs himself in, ass landing on the seat just as the ground rears up in front of him—
A tug of his wrist and the engine roars back to life, solar energy pulsing around Keith’s body. He levels with the ground so abruptly it knocks the breath out of his lungs but he gulps down cold air with a grin on his face. “ Yeah! ” The scream tears out of his mouth, echoing in the narrow canyon around him, and Keith wouldn’t be surprised if his heart burst from the pressure.
There’s grass down here, too, growing over what used to be blighted earth carved out by the Galra Empire in the mine they had down here. But the Galra Empire has been dead for centuries, and nature is already growing over the scar they left here. Trees sprout from the ground and vines cling to the canyon walls, an endless stretch of vivid green.
Keith winds in and out of trees, ducks beneath low-hanging branches so close the leaves flutter through his hair. Through the green he sees the first hints of the mine. It’s a monstrosity of black metal, sleek shapes jutting out of the ground and carving into the walls of the canyon. A hollow corpse of what it must have once been.
There’s a barrier field around it—nobody is supposed to touch anything, Galra tech is off-limits because nobody has figured out how the hell to destroy it yet—but rules have never been Keith’s thing. He only speeds up as he approaches it, a massive amalgamation of metal surrounded by a shimmering blue field. Go in fast enough, angled the right way, and a barrier field’ll never respond to the unauthorized entry fast enough to keep someone out.
He leans forward, flattens his body against the bike to speed himself up even more. The shimmer of blue approaches, filling Keith’s entire field of vision, and just before impact he braces himself, throat tightening—
The barrier passes harmlessly over his skin, a spark of static electricity following its path along his body. It’s not until Keith’s inside the barrier field that it starts flashing red around him.
Law enforcement doesn’t scare Keith. Response times are slow out here in the middle of nowhere, and he’s faster than any of them anyway. Even when they do eventually show up—and they’ll show up, they never ignore a call about Galra tech—Keith knows he can outrun them. Wouldn’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. He’s been to this factory more times than he can count.
Keith’s never known why this place calls to him so much. Sometimes he just gets feelings , and they always lead him back here. Maybe it’s back from when he was a little kid obsessed with stories of Galra pirates. Doesn’t really matter much. It’s a playground for his bike, a jungle of sleek black metal, and that’s enough for Keith.
He swerves around a corner and ducks into a narrow corridor. Monolithic walls close in around him, so tall they’re extending up into the mist. A single inch separates his legs from the wall on either side and Keith grins, baring his teeth to the danger of shifting just slightly to the side.
Adrenaline is addictive. Keith leans forward, pushing the bike almost faster than it can handle, scorching metal burning against the insides of his thighs. Faster is dangerous—any second his control could spiral, or the bike could break down, and Keith and his bike would end up a mangled mess of red—but it’s more than worth it for the rush of exhilaration in his blood.
He shoots out of the narrow corridor at top speed and immediately heads straight into a forest of machinery and metal. The black Galra metal is cold even after so long in disuse, emanating a chill that Keith can feel despite the overheating metal beneath him. He swerves in and around jutting pieces of metal, braking and speeding up, a complicated manoeuvre that calms the twitching in his hands.
“What do you think, girl?” The bike skids through the air as Keith makes a sharp turn into open space. “You ready for it?”
Almost like she’s responding, the engine roars to life as Keith picks up speed again. He’s got his target. A lattice of metal between two structures. Dimming sunlight streams through the diamond-shaped junctions between the metal bars; spaces big enough for a bike, or a person. Not big enough for both together.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Keith growls, his voice carried away by the wind. Faster, he needs to be going faster, needs enough momentum to carry him through. His bike is overheating, he’s going to have burns on his legs—but Keith can barely feel it. “C’mon!”
The lattice is there and there’s not enough space for Keith and his bike to pass through, his head’s gonna come clean off.
But at the last second he jumps, diving through the opening above with his arms pressed close against his flattened body. For a second there’s nothing but cold black metal surrounding him and the roar of his bike—then Keith emerges into open air, his bike shooting from the opening just below him.
He reaches out wildly, manages to grab the handlebars and pull himself right back into the seat. Keith hollers into the open air as he straightens his course, eyes closed, head tipped back. Sunlight warms his face, hard wind wrestles with his long hair. Adrenaline flickers along his body like electricity. For once, his head is clear. That’s the best part—turning off his brain, living in the moment.
With a deep breath, Keith slows his bike and lets his eyes flicker open. “Good one, girl,” he says with a wide smile, patting the scorching metal of his bike. “Let’s head back.” Matron Ingrid will be expecting him. He’s already hours late, but he’ll get whatever jobs she has for him done.
He heads for the opposite end of the Galra factory, to the other side of the flashing red barrier—and just beyond that barrier are a couple of Enforcer Drones, waiting for him with their arms crossed. Shit.
Keith’s not getting arrested. He slides to a stop several yards short of the barrier, far enough that he’ll be able to run if they come for him. Close enough he can talk to them.
One of the drones looks Keith over—or, he thinks so. Hard to tell when their faces are just sleek, featureless black mirrors. “Operation of solar vehicles in this sector and trespassing in restricted areas such as this are violations—“
“Of my probation, I know.” Keith curls his lip, narrowing his eyes at the drones. “I was just going for a ride and practicing my flying.”
The other drone cocks its head to the side. “You were clocked at over twice the speed limit.”
“Over three times, actually,” Keith wants to say, but he presses his lips tight together and mirrors the cross-armed stance of the drones. “Nobody was around. A joyride in a deserted Galra factory doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“You are in direct violation of the law, Kogane.”
Keith shrugs. “Stupid law, then.” He inches forward in his seat, pressing his knees in a little tighter. Getting ready to run when the bots pursue.
“Come in quietly,” the second drone says. “The charges of operating this solar vehicle despite your probation may be dropped.”
Keith doesn’t deal in maybes. “What if I don’t?”
“We will bring you in for processing and you can sit in holding until someone decides what to do with you.”
More empty threats. Matron Ingrid will eventually bail him out, or they’ll get tired of him down at the station and release him with more community service. Nobody actually gives a shit about trespassing calls, they just seem intent on making Keith’s life a living hell.
So Keith grins. “Catch me first.” Then his bike roars to life and he shoots off towards the canyon wall. It’s littered with caves, some of them only feet deep, others winding through the ground like a maze. A maze Keith has memorized, has ever since he first started exploring this place. No way will the Enforcer Drones be able to catch him in there.
Keith chooses a cave system he knows stretches on for miles. The second he’s inside he immediately feels the chill, even through his jacket. Walls of stone are lined with black Galra metal still glowing faintly. It casts a soft, eerie violet light over the cave; still dim, but bright enough for Keith to navigate. Definitely too dark for someone who doesn’t know better to see half of the twists and turns he’s taking.
Sirens echo in the cave behind him. They’re distant, muffled by stone and metal. Keith’s already losing the drones. He grins into the darkness, taking a sharp left down a narrow tunnel. Narrow enough that the drones and their hovercrafts’ll never be able to fit through.
The sound of sirens follows Keith through the tunnels even as he goes further and further. He’s not worried. The drones are nowhere near, they’re pathetically distant, and nobody knows these mines like Keith. He could turn around right now and head right back into the factory, and the drones would probably just be getting out of the tunnels by the time Keith got home.
“What the hell.” Keith skids to a halt, the side of his bike nearly slamming against the cave wall, foot dragging against the rough ground as he spins around it. “Worth a shot.”
He shoots back in the direction he came from. Back towards the entrance, wailing sirens echoing louder in his ears with each passing second. Still muffled, though, which means the Enforcement Drones still won’t be able to catch him. The entrance is fast approaching, just a few more seconds and Keith will be able to see light from outside—
There’s a big, blocky shape in the entrance, a shadow against the light from outside. In the dim purple lights of Galra tech a sleek, featureless black face is visible. Shit.
Definitely no room for Keith to manoeuvre around the drone. He could smash into it, crash through. Except his bike was made for speed, not so much for sturdiness; no way it’d be able to take a hit like that without at least the engine breaking down. His only option is heading back, going with the original plan of losing the drones in the caves and leaving through one of the alternate entrances.
Keith prepares the bike to turn, glancing over his shoulder to prepare for the escape. Except now the other drone is there, blocking off the rest of the caves, thin metal arms crossed and head cocked to one side as it stares at Keith.
“Keith Kogane,” the one at the cave entrance begins, voice a drone of synthesized sound. “You are under arrest. Surrender your vehicle and come quietly.”
Keith’s fingers curl tighter around the handlebars of his bike. But he’s surrounded, and fighting his way out now would just be stupid. They already fooled him once.
So instead he cuts the engine on his bike and climbs off. His thighs are burning, hands sore and tense from being curled up for so long, tension so tight in his spine it hurts. “Fine,” he says, holding his hands out in surrender, biting down the urge to fight back. “I’ll come quietly.”