Pidge restlessly roamed the halls of the ship. After so many hours of study, her books no longer provided sufficient distraction. This night had again found her furiously pacing the corridors in attempt to ward off her darker thoughts. ‘The modulation number of a hermitian vectorform is implied by its hamiltonian...’ she thought to herself, reviewing the contents of her textbooks in her head. ‘Except in the case of... umm... umm...’
“You suck,” she muttered. Pidge shook her head. The bad thoughts were coming back. This was exactly what she has been trying to avoid. What she wouldn’t do for a little company, for just the slightest relief from her loneliness, if even only for the duration of a meal or a cup of tea. But alas, the halls were vacant. Allura, as always, was in her chamber pleasuring herself. And the others... she grimaced... the others... “Don’t think about it,” she whispered under her breath. A chorus of moans in the distance alerted her that she had strayed too far and it was time to turn back. Pidge returned to her room not having found the distraction she sought. With no other recourse, she decided to give the books another try.
The one advantage of her loneliness was that it had made her a scholar. While the rest of the crew spent endless hours engaged in carnal acts, she had used that time to study. Pidge grabbed a book at random and cracked it open. Her eyes scanned the page, but her brain failed to register the words. Fifteen minutes in she realised that she still didn’t know what subject she was studying. ‘You’re useless,’ said the voice in her head. ‘Nobody loves you.’ Pidge tried her best to hold back tears, but despite her efforts they flowed freely. ‘You can’t do anything right. You’re alone. You’re unlovable.’
“It’s not true!” Pidge sobbed. “It’s not true!” Despite what her inner voice told her, she knew she wasn’t unlovable. Her family had loved her, her two parents and her brother, Matt. Matt had told her as much with his last words as he died in her arms, a victim of the same galra massacre that had killed her parents. Now she sat helpless, lost in rumination, as the scenes played over and over in her head. All that death... her friends... her family... for what purpose?
She had wanted to give up when she lost her family, to lie down and cry. To find a high place and jump off it, or to pick a fight with an armed galra that she knew she couldn’t win. But somehow her tears had given way to anger as a second wind swept through her and drove her on a mission for vengeance. She had found a new purpose in life as a paladin of Voltron, a leader in the battle against the Galra Empire. She fantasizes about putting a sword through Zarkon himself, as if this act of violence might bring her peace.
“There’s work to do,” Pidge muttered. “Can’t just sit here all day.” Pidge pulled herself from her thoughts and returned to her studies. There was work to be done. Realistically, an empire that spanned the better part of the universe could never be defeated by a single weapon-- even a weapon as powerful as Voltron. Though no army could challenge them in battle, the empire built new ships faster than the lions could tear them apart. A computer virus, however, might leave the galra vulnerable. With the right code, Pidge could do more damage than Voltron ever could.
She was so close to a solution that she could almost feel it. Now that her emotions were in check and the words made sense again, she was making progress. Pidge slid her finger down the page, tracing out the words line by line-- and the lights went out. Pidge let out a cry of frustration. She knew what had happened... Allura had again been too busy pleasuring herself to charge the ship. Pidge wanted to walk down there and give Allura a piece of her mind, but the doors were closed and would not open again until the power was restored. If history were to repeat itself, there would be no power until at least tomorrow morning.
“Damn it, Allura!” Pidge shouted. She flailed uselessly against the door of her room to vent her anger. She kicked the steel door frame, twisting her ankle. Pidge limped to her bed and began to cry, not from pain, but from frustration. ‘What’s the point,’ she thought. ‘You weren't going to solve it, anyway. You can’t do anything right.’ Tears streamed down her face. ‘You can’t bring them back. You can’t save them. You’re useless. You’re alone. You’re unlovable.’
Trapped in her room and surrounded by darkness, Pidge knew she had no option but to try for sleep. She gathered herself up in her blankets and lay down in her bed. ‘You’re useless. You’re alone. You’re unlovable.’