Chapter Text
“This is GAR-59. Unidentified flying object through orbit -54, identify yourself,” the voice comes through the comm.
“Copy that. This is BLP-1473, reporting to GAR-59, do you copy?” Shiro responds.
There’s a brief moment of static before, “I repeat, this is GAR-59. Unidentified flying object through orbit -54, please identify yourself.”
Shiro breathes impatiently. “Copy that. This is BLP-1473. Do you read me? Can you hear me?”
“Unidentified flying object through orbit -54, identify yourself. If you do not, we will assume you are hostile, and we will dispatch defense artillery,” threatens the voice through the comm.
Shiro groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake- Coran, why can’t I get through?”
The Altean fiddles with his mustache and leans forward looking at the holo screen reading the communication signals between Earth and the Black Lion. “I’m not entirely sure. We’re locked into the solar system and the three hundred satellites floating around have made the signal strong. I don’t quite understand the problem,” he ponders. Shiro sighs.
“Pidge!” Shiro calls out, already apologetic for his crass tone and softens it. “Pidge, we need you on the deck. Earth can’t read our radio.”
“What do you mean Earth can’t read our radio?!” they grumble as they stomp towards Shiro. “We’re in perfect range of every damn satellite, I made sure!”
Shiro gestures to the comm, which is still spewing threats from the Garrison.
Pidge sighs exhaustedly and walks up to the comm board, glances at it for a few ticks, then flips a single switch and pulls the comm mic to their mouth. “This is BLP-1473 entering Earth’s orbit in T minus 41. Do you copy?” they report stoically and hand the mic back to Shiro, mouthing a tired idiot as Shiro sheepishly grabs hold of it again.
They’re all too exhausted. Shiro mouths sorry to Pidge as they walk back to their spot on the floor, leaning against the wall.
“This is GAR-59 receiving. Is this unidentified flying object through orbit -54? Identify yourself,” comes through the comm.
“Affirmative. This is unidentified flying object through orbit dash fifty-four. This is Captain Takashi Shirogane aboard BLP-1473. Expected landing on Garrison lot 78-2 in T minus one-twenty-three. I repeat, this is B, L, P dash one-four-seven-three,” Shiro reports. “Confirm, we are good for landing?”
Nearly a minute passes without response.
“GAR-59, do you copy? Are we good for landing?”
A moment of static comes through before the voice comes back. “Takashi Shirogane?”
“Affirmative.”
“Roger,” the voice comes through breathlessly. “Repeat time and place for landing?”
“Roger,” Shiro replies. “Confirm we are good for landing in T minus one-twenty-one on Garrison lot seventy-eight dash two.”
“Copy that,” the voice pauses. “BLP good for landing. Garrison lot 78-2 is ready for you.”
“Roger that.”
Shiro sits in a few seconds of silence before the voice on the radio adds, “Welcome home, Captain Shirogane. Is anyone else with you?”
“Thank you,” Shiro replies, tense. “Affirmative, we are nine on-board including Matt and Sam Holt from the Kerberos Mission. We’ll need a medical team at the landing lot as well. We have an injured pilot in need of immediate medical attention,” Shiro says, glancing behind himself at the blue-lipped, unconscious Paladin hooked up to Hunk and Coran’s homemade respirator.
“Roger that” the radio responds. “We’ll be expecting you.”