Chapter Text
Four days until the VET
The sun blooms on the edge of the planet like a brilliant white flower. Keith shields his eyes against the sudden glare of it, knowing they’ll land within a half hour now. He’s eager to get off this ship, and he suspects Red must be, too, down in the hold of the ship. It’s not the first time they’ve traveled to compete, and the mare always gets antsy right before landing.
Once the sunrise becomes boring, Keith turns away from the window to the rest of the passengers mulling about. They’re all here for the Voltron Endurance Trials too, some of them riders, a handful trainers, but most of them owners. The spectators will arrive later, closer to the start of the Trials. Keith likes to think he can pick out the riders from the meager crowd. There’s one human, lean as a whip with calloused hands, but he’s chattier than any horse person Keith’s met before. Another human is built like a brick house, but has a down-to-earth, kind manner about him Keith could see soothing a flighty horse easily. The third human is tiny and no-nonsense—constructed along the lines of a jockey and skinny enough (whether from training or genes, Keith can’t tell) their gender is anyone’s guess. Everyone else looks soft and rich, like an owner; or old and steely, like a trainer.
The door from the hold opens and draw’s Keith’s attention. A lithe Galra-looking person enters the room, closing the door quietly behind him as he casts a calculated gaze around the room. Keith squints at him, meeting his eyes levelly when they meet. Probably a rider. He doesn’t have the look of an owner, and since he just came from the hold, he could have been visiting his horse. He’s not accompanied by a grizzled endurance veteran either, nor does he have the look of one, which makes Keith suspect he could be an owner-trainer-rider. A direct competitor in Keith’s own category.
The Galra moves on and Keith looks over his shoulder at the planet, significantly closer now. He can see the individual buildings of the VET complex and landing site below, but they’re still too far away to pick up on any sort of detail.
The engineered planet created for the VET is remarkably Earth-like. Of course, the terraformers and planetary engineers behind it took the utmost care to recreate seven of Earth’s unique biomes on a small planet exactly 2,000 miles in circumference. It really doesn’t deserve the title of planet, given some of the surrounding asteroids dwarf it, but the marvels of modern technology allow it to pull the gravity of a much larger body. It’s such a faithful recreation on-planet horses coming from Earth, like Red, often can’t tell the difference. Keith’s thankful for that, given how much difficulty Red had had adjusting to Mars before their qualifying race there. The mare had been in fits over the gravity and atmosphere for nearly a week before she finally calmed down—Keith’s not eager to repeat the experience, especially not when the stakes are so high and there’s so little time before the race. This ship is the last one carrying horses to arrive.
The captain comes on the intercom then: “please take a seat, we are entering the atmosphere and preparing for final descent. We hope your flight to the home planet of the Voltron Endurance Trials has been enjoyable.”
Keith looks around the room once before slipping out the door, down into the hold. He’d rather be with Red during entry in case she freaks out.
The narrow staircase down into the hold is steep. Keith picks his way down it carefully, finding himself in a wide hallway lined with large stalls on one side. The first dozen are filled with horses. Some of them call out to him as he passes, whickering softly in hopes he’ll give them a treat. He doesn’t pay them much attention. It’s only when he reaches the stall holding a small, reddish mare does he stop, putting his hands on the bars and giving a low whistle.
The roan mare turns her head to look at him, snorting when she recognizes him. “Hey, Red.” Keith reaches a hand through the bars, and Red walks over to get her ears scratched. The ship begins to rumble as it hits the outer atmosphere of the VET planet and Red throws her head into the air. Keith murmurs soothing things to her in a low tone and the mare half-listens to him, keeping one ear towards him even as she paces the stall anxiously. Keith’s fine with that as long as she doesn’t start rearing or kicking.
Around them the other horses are agitated by the ship’s vibrations and the roaring of air against its hull. Keith just stands and talks, holding on to the bars of the stall for stability until the worst of re-entry is over. It takes several minutes for the most violent shaking to end, and Keith looks around cursorily to make sure the other horses are alright. Several have laid down in their stalls. They look like seasoned travelers. Red continues to pace, as do several others. Upstairs in the passenger cabin Keith hears the captain on the intercom again and figures they must be landing in about five minutes. He gives Red a soft goodbye, promising to see her in a few minutes, and returns to the cabin, slipping in unnoticed by the other passengers.
The landing pad surges up to meet the ship suddenly, dirt already hard-baked from the heat of many ships’ thrusters. A soft bump signals they’ve finally, officially arrived. Keith exits as quickly as possible, grabbing his worn duffel bag and pushing out the door before the captain finishes welcoming them to the VET planet. It’ll be a moment before the crew starts unloading the horses, but Keith waits impatiently by the doors in the belly of the ship, ready to take Red as soon as he can. She got Keith in quite a bit of trouble on Mars for making a handler bleed when she bit them while being unloaded.
True to form, Red comes out with her head high in the air, doing her best to drag the crewmember leading her. Fortunately, they’re bulky enough she can’t quite bully them off the ship any faster, and they realize quickly who Keith is and why he’s there, handing Red off to him wordlessly. Keith gives a small nod. It only takes a moment for Keith to lead Red a distance away from the other horses and give her a cursory look-over. None of her wraps came loose during the trip and she didn’t even roll in her stall.
“All horses need to report here!” Keith turns to see an official in the blue and grey colors of the VET waving a clipboard in the air. A few other riders and trainers have collected their horses from the crew and are filing over towards the official. As they draw near, Keith sees they have a microchip reader in addition to a clipboard and are scanning each horse. When they scan Red, Keith gets a flash of the information on the reader’s screen, but it’s in a script he can’t read.
“You’re on the south wing. You requested outdoor keep and a double-fenced paddock,” the official intones and Keith nods to confirm. They extend one of their four arms towards the south wing of the sprawling VET complex and Keith sets off. Unlike many other riders, this is Keith’s first time at the VET. He’s heard the complex is new this year. It’s a low, white building with a shining metal roof and true to word it looks brand new, untouched by the particular variety of dirt that comes with horses. They pass through the building on their way to the outdoor paddocks and inside it’s similarly pristine. The concrete aisle is unmarred by dings and nicks from metal shoes and not a single tail hair or sawdust shaving is out of place. The horses in the stalls are quiet, either chewing idly on hay or dozing in the comfortable warmth of the late morning. It’s such a perfect recreation of Earth Keith almost forgets he’s half a galaxy away from his home. Judging by the way Red drops her head and blows out a heavy sigh, she’s feeling the same thing.
The paddock is situated a little ways from the barn. A small run-in shed with an automatic waterer stands at the far end of it, and the sign on the fence next to the gate reads,
Red
Rider/Trainer/Owner: Keith Kogane
Feed: Hay only 2x daily, ½ bale per day
Supplements: None
Special Needs: None
Notes: Will bite
Before turning Red loose, Keith walks around the perimeter to check the fences. He examines the waterer, making sure it works and tasting the cool water that wells up when he presses down on the plate. Satisfied, he removes Red’s halter and watches fondly as she immediately trots to the center of the paddock and flops down on the ground to roll. He stays a few minutes until Red has run around the paddock several times, stretching her legs and conducting her own thorough investigation of her new lodging, and started grazing on the brilliantly green grass.
Part of Keith wishes he could just set up a cot in Red’s run-in and stay there with her. The weather on the planet is carefully controlled, just like everything else, so Keith knows the days leading up to the actual race will be temperate. Once the race starts, anything goes, but until then it’ll be clear skies and balmy days, comfortable nights. But there’s specific accommodation for the riders. On the other side of the tall, leafy trees that surround the barn there’s a cluster of tall hotel-like buildings. Somewhere in one of those buildings is Keith’s room.
Keith takes his time meandering over to the buildings, detouring through the barn and by the north paddocks. Most of the other horses he sees are larger than Red. Some are bizarre colors. A sapphire blue horse with a deep, trumpeting voice neighs at Keith as he walks past and idly he wonders what sort of off-planet breed it is, whether it’s from an aquatic planet or not.
It’s only when he actually reaches the buildings does Keith realize he’s barely seen any other people apart from the crewmembers of the ship and the officials. Where did they all go? he wonders uneasily.
“Are you a rider?” Keith turns to see a Taujeerian VET official hurrying towards him. He nods. “The briefing for the race is already happening in Hall 3. Hurry!”
Keith makes his way to Hall 3, sliding in the cracked-open door and drawing the attention of only a few nearby riders. It’s dark, the only light coming from the screen at the front of the room. A race official is explaining one of the biomes, most likely for the benefit of the alien and off-planet riders. As a native of Earth, Keith has a slight advantage.
“...any further questions about the biomes?” the presenter asks, and nobody responds. “Excellent. The race itself is 1,000 miles, from one half of the planet to the other. The beginning point is in temperate savannah. The endpoint is in the desert. You may take any path through any biome you choose.
“You will be required to make contact with a check-in point every three to five days to receive food and any necessary medical attention. Your horses will be examined to make sure they are in good health. If your horse has sustained any injuries or lameness, you will be subject to disqualification.”
A Galra raises their hand. “How will we know where the check-in points are? What if we have an emergency and need help?”
“Good question.” The presenter clicks to the next slide. An image of a device that looks like a cross between an antique smartphone and a remote control comes up. “This is your communicator. It tracks your global position and reports in real-time for owners, trainers, and spectators to view. It will tell you the location of check-in points and will serve as the race officials’ means of communication with you. Any pertinent announcements or emergency communication will happen through this device.”
The presenter moves on to some more minutia and Keith zones out for a good ten minutes, until a burning question pops into his mind: how dangerous is this race? At that point, the presenter opens the floor for questions.
“How dangerous is the race?” Keith’s own voice surprises him. All eyes in the room turn to him and his cheeks ignite self-consciously. Judging by some riders’ expressions, it’s a rookie question. I can’t be the only rookie here, there’s got to be others wondering the same thing, Keith tells himself, but doesn’t quite believe it.
“We control the weather of the planet so that it never reaches extremes that could significantly harm any race participants. Additionally, there are no predatory or overly dangerous animals living here. Any danger comes from terrain, or other riders, but it is overall less dangerous than one would expect a race on the authentic Earth to be,” the presenter explains. The audience turns back around, finally leaving Keith alone. The presenter’s answer both reassures and worries Keith. No predators and no possibility of tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, or extreme storms are all good things. Any danger comes from other riders, however, is ominous as hell and makes the pit of Keith’s stomach twist. His eyes dart about the room, sizing up all his competitors. Who here is dangerous?
The slender Galra from the ship looks over his shoulder, eyes meeting Keith’s for a moment just long enough for Keith to register their sharp purple irises. A thrill shoots down Keith’s spine and the Galra looks back to the front of the room.