Hello everyone.
I've just rejoined the FFML after a long time off due to conflicts with
my Email server.  I finally decided to take another try at it.  Here is
a new short story I'd like to see critiqued.  I threw it together one
day at work in between phone calls, and have only done a little
rewriting on.  I am not much interested in grammar checks; I mainly want
to know if it is a.) a good story and how it can be improved, b.) does
it fit into the spirit of the Gundam universe?  It uses original
characters and does not touch on the Gundam storyline at all, so when
you get right down to it, it could have been set in almost any series.
I chose Gundam because it seemed to work best in that one.
Thanks!




The Price of Heroism

An original story set in the Gundam Universe
by Larry F
2-16-99
http://home.earthlink.net/~lwf58/Webpage/fanfic/fanfic.html
lwf58@earthlink.net

(Standard Disclaimer) I am using the Gundam backdrop without permission,
solely for the enjoyment of other fans, and do not intend to profit from
them in any way. While the companies involved could probably could sue
me if they so desired, I sincerely hope they don't, since they are
already getting all my money through retail outlets anyway!





----------

"� This is not a drill, repeat; this is not a drill. Zeon forces have
been detected approaching from vector coordinates 125x, 230y relative.
All Mobile Suits and Interceptor craft scramble immediately. Battle
stations, battle stations, this is not a drill, repeat�"

>From an objective viewpoint, the asteroid base seemed to be a beehive of
confusion, with men and women rushing here and there in bewildering
numbers. This was anything but the truth. Each person had a specific
function they were performing, and were accomplishing their tasks with a
minimum of wasted motion. The battle alert launched all three
operational shifts into a 3-D ballet, the lack of gravity making it
unnecessary for personnel to stay on the "floor", or even to keep
themselves in any particular up and down orientation.

Control station personnel were taking their sensors and communications
gear off standby, and hanger crews were checking the ready status of the
combat machines racked in the bays. Catapult crews were building up the
electrostatic charges in the massive capacitors that would power the
linear accelerators. This was an operation that was practiced several
times a week at random intervals and the crew of the base knew their
tasks by heart. By the time the flight crews had suited up and received
a hasty briefing on the approaching enemy, their machines were ready to
go and Command had their targets and flight paths planned out for them.

This is typical of how a first-line Federation MS squadron responded to
an emergency� but it�s not who our story is about.
---------------

Garth Jensen had joined the Federation Armed Forces at 17 years of age,
and like all young men he dreamed of being a hero. Sure, he told himself
that he was unexceptional and things like that didn't really happen, but
in his daydreams he was the one who was leading the Federation Space
Force in the decisive battle that ended the war.

In real life, he knew all too well that he might never see combat at
all. In basic, he'd been selected for Mobile Suit training, but had
graduated squarely at the bottom of his class. He'd been posted to an
occupation base in South Africa that was supposedly there to prevent the
region from being taken back by Zeon�s Earth Expeditionary Force, but
that was a joke. Zeon was finished on Earth. The war had turned in the
Federation�s favor, and the Zeon Armed Forces were withdrawing into
space for the defense of their home colonies. The idea that they would
launch a sudden counterattack in Africa was ridiculous.

The sad reality was that the South Africa base was a dumping ground.
Many of the personnel serving there had been sent because they had
burned out in first-line units. The base was crewed by people that the
brass figured couldn't handle the stress anymore, and it showed. While
the grounds were clean enough, many of the men walked around with their
shirts unbuttoned, and maintenance requests often didn't get serviced
for weeks, if ever. The base had a grand total of eight Mobile Suits,
all of which were first generation GM�s that had been rotated out of
other units as unserviceable. The ground crews made desultory attempts
to keep a few of them operating, usually by cannibalizing parts from the
others. Spare parts were a valuable commodity the Federation sent to the
front lines, not to rot in places that would never see action.

Despite that, Garth was happy enough. He was close to his home in
Johannesburg, so he could often have dinner with his grandfather and
sister, or even meet his mother when she came back from her post at
Jaburo Base. Having seen how homesick the others at the base got, he
knew he was lucky to be stationed close to his family. He even got to
pilot a Mobile Suit regularly. The base commander sent out patrols once
or twice a week so that he could write reports to Central Command, and
Garth was one of only five pilots on the base. How many green recruits
could say they had as much time in a Suit as he had? The other pilots
were veterans of combat, and they told him outlandish tales about their
service time while they walked their Suits along the patrol route. It
wasn't exciting like it would be if he were sent to a unit on the front,
but he made the best of it. Garth had resigned himself to a military
career of complete boredom.
----------

"Captain Brooks? This is Major Winston at Jaburo. Got a hot one for you
if you�re interested. The remaining Zeon forces in Southern Africa are
falling back onto their base outside Capetown for extraction. They�re
trying an airlift and the projected flight path takes them just a few
kilometers away from you, over Johannesburg. All they have left are
infantry; the last of their Mobile Suit squadrons were boosted off world
a couple of weeks ago. We�re planning a going away party just to let �em
know how much we'll miss them, and wanted to know would you like to send
some pilots along for the fun of it? We want to hit them just before
they get to the city. It�s just going to be a little harassment, not a
full scale engagement, so there shouldn't be much risk involved."

"Yeah? Okay, count us in. I got a green kid down here that�s been
itching for a fight ever since he got out of Combat school. I'll send
him along with a couple of good nursemaids to keep him out from
underfoot. Let him pop off a couple of rounds and earn himself a combat
ribbon, and that should keep him happy until he�s rotated. I haven't
seen a boy yet who didn't hanker for a ribbon to impress the girls
with."

"Good enough. I'll make sure that he sees just enough fire to make him
think he�s been in combat. Hey, we still on for baseball next Saturday?
I got a fiver that says we�re gonna cream you�"

Early the next morning, Garth found himself loading his GM with live
rounds for the first time outside a firing range.
----------

Sergeant Dewey was confidence personified.

"Don't sweat it, kid. We�re just going duck hunting, is all. We set the
GM�s up in a camouflaged position and wait for the transports to fly
overhead, then we open up on them for as long as we can see �em. They
may have a couple of escort fighters along, but the fighter jocks from
Jaburo will keep those guys busy. It'll be a piece of cake. We rack up a
few hits, maybe knock one of �em down, then we go home for lunch. Easy.
Ain't that right, Danners?"

The other pilot, Corporal Danners, nodded his head.

"Yep, it doesn't get much easier than this. Heck, if I thought this
would be tough, I wouldn't be here!"

Somehow, Garth doubted it would go that smoothly. Surely the enemy
wouldn't just fly in a straight line and let them shoot, would they?
Garth sure as hell wouldn't just sit there and let someone take potshots
at him if he were in their position. The thing that made him really
nervous was that he just didn't know. He had no experience of his own to
draw on.

The three of them were carrying standard issue GM beam guns on their way
to the checkpoint where the combat team from Jaburo was supposed to meet
them. It was a good thing that the last reports of the Zeon air convoy
had them over two hours away. If there had been an enemy close enough to
pick up short-range radio signals, the chatter between the Federation MS
pilots would have given the enemy a very good idea that something was
up. Garth had been on grade school field trips that were quieter than
this.

"Hey, guys? Shouldn't we be holding radio silence, or something? They
told me in school that you shouldn't talk any more on the radio than you
had to, to keep from tipping off your location�"

Dewey snorted.

"So speaks the expert. I don't mean to razz you, kid, but that stuff
don't mean much out here in the back of beyond. Even if- and that�s a
mighty big if- there was someone around to listen in, why would they be
interested in a piddley bunch'a losers like us? I bet�cha the local Zeon
command has us filed away under "negligible combat effectiveness" in all
that paperwork they love so much. Hell, these Mobile Suits are in such
bad shape, I wonder if we can even hit anything with �em. My gun sight�s
gotta be off by at least 2 degrees, and the part they need to fix it has
been on back order for a couple months now. It'll be a friggin� miracle
if we even scratch one of those planes, much less shoot one down."

Danners chimed in.

"That�s God�s own truth, it is. We�re just going along with the guys
from Jaburo to throw up a few more shots in front of the transports. The
best we can hope for is that one of �em will run into our fire by
accident!"

Garth couldn't argue with that summation of their equipment at all.

When they arrived at the checkpoint, a Land rover was waiting for them
with a Second Lieutenant from Jaburo. The Jaburo Mobile Suit team was
camped nearby, having spent the night there. As the Jaburo pilots
finished packing up and prepared to move out, the Lieutenant gave the
Sergeants their final instructions. Each squad was given an ambush point
to set up in the path the air convoy was likely to pass over, and
silhouette cards to identify enemy and friendly aircraft in case the IFF
systems in their GM�s failed.

"Remember, we have a flight of interceptors timed to hit them the same
time we do, so be damned certain that you aren't firing barrages in
front of our guys! All I want you shooting at is the big, slow suckers;
leave the fighters to our air support. You are not to engage the escorts
except for the unlikely event that one of �em decides to come down and
strafe you. This plan is so damned simple that only a real dickhead
could screw it up, so even you bozos should be able to handle it with no
problems. All you gotta do is just stick to the script. Now get to it."

With a half-hearted salute, the Sergeants headed back to their squads.
----------

Garth settled into his seat as Dewey draped the last bit of camouflage
netting over their Suits. He was listening to the Sergeant comment on
"certain smart-ass butterbar Lieutenants" who "need their diapers
changed" as he worked.

"I tell ya, kid, those Officer School types are the worst. They come
outa OCS with a chip on their shoulders bigger �n the block of wood they
grow their hair out of. It takes years, sometimes, for a good Sergeant
to train �em how to be worth a damn. Better to have a Lieutenant that
came up through the ranks; they know what the real world is like. Them
OCS types are so shaky they think they gotta throw their rank around to
get respect. Me, I say they should give �em a blankey and let �em suck
their thumbs in the corner, while us Sergeants get the real work done."

Dewey looked over the results of his efforts with a critical eye.

"There, that ought to do it. Them Zeon pilots won't know what hit �em�
assuming these walkin� scrap piles can put a particle beam anywhere near
�em, that is."

With that, they settled down to wait for the Zeon aircraft.
----------

"Game Warden to all units; poachers are in sight; repeat, poachers are
in sight."

The radio code phrase that the Zeon air convoy was entering the ambush
area woke Garth up from the doze he'd slipped into. At first, he just
blinked as the meaning of the words sunk in, but when they did the
adrenaline began pumping into his system. He began searching the sky for
aircraft and wondered why his telescopic display wasn't working� then he
realized that he'd left his cockpit canopy open for the breeze, and his
forward view screen was deactivated. Feeling foolish, he flipped the
switches to close up the cockpit cover and activate his sensors.

As soon as his video came on line, a repeater screen that normally
showed the view to the rear of his Suit displayed a narrow band
broadcast from one of the Jaburo squads positioned farther up the line.
In the view, he could see the Zeon aircraft approaching. There were four
big transports, and several small fighter craft. Garth was excited,
nervous and scared. All of a sudden, he had an overpowering urge to go
to the bathroom.

<Oh God, why now? I didn't need to go a minute ago!>

He agonized for a moment over whether he should open his canopy and pee
over the side, but decided to try and hold it. The enemy would be
overhead in seconds, so he just didn't have time. Already the forward
GM's from Jaburo were beginning to fire at the transport planes, and he
could see the escort fighters banking left and climbing, presumably to
engage the Federation fighters that were supposed to attack at the same
time.

He barely seemed to have time to breathe before the transports were in
range of his gun. Throwing aside his netting, he raised his GM to one
knee and raised his beam rifle to the ready position. Just as the twin
cross hairs of the targeting scope locked onto the lead transport and he
squeezed the trigger, he noticed some egg-shapes dropping from the wings
of all four aircraft.

<Holy shit! Those sons of bitches were carrying bombs!>

Garth watched in horror as the bombs lazily fell. The ones that had been
released by the transport he was still firing at didn't seem to be
moving, they were just getting bigger and bigger. Garth giggled
hysterically to himself.

<That's got to be a bad sign that they don't seem to be moving, right?>

His finger was jerking convulsively at the trigger, but the gun wasn't
firing anymore. He had just enough time to realize that he must have
used up all the energy in the gun's capacitor when the bombs hit.
----------

When Garth regained consciousness, he was still strapped into the
cockpit of his Mobile Suit. There was no power, so none of his monitors
were working, but he had light because the armored canopy of his Suit
was twisted enough to let sunshine in. There was a layer of dust
covering everything. As he began working at his harness, a fine cloud of
the stuff puffed up and made him sneeze. When he sneezed, it was like
throwing a switch; suddenly he felt agonizing pain. Looking down, he saw
a jagged scrap of metal from the rim of the canopy had been splintered
off and driven into his hip. He'd bled heavily, and his trousers and the
lower part of his shirt were sodden with blood. His vision began
wavering, and he felt nauseous. He tried to control it, but couldn't
help himself, so he leaned over and threw up into the back of the
cockpit. That set off new waves of agony, and he teetered on the edge of
fainting for a moment, and then...

He never knew how long he was trapped in the ruins of his Mobile Suit.
The next time he came to his senses was in the base infirmary. When a
nurse came to check on him, she found him staring up at the ceiling.

"Why, hello there. You certainly had us worried for a while, but now
that you're awake you should be just fine."

Garth looked over at her.

"What happened to me?"

"Do you remember anything at all?"

"Yes� I remember waking up in my GM and there was a piece of metal stuck
in me�"

"Well, some of the pilots from Jaburo found you and brought you back.
You lost a lot of blood, so it was touch and go for a while there, but
you're out of danger now."

Garth blinked at that.

"Huh? Why didn't Sergeant Dewey or Corporal Danners help me?"

The nurse looked away from him for a moment.

"You were the only survivor at your position."

She turned back to him with a determined expression.

"Enough of that. You just wait here for a minute. The Doctor will want
to see you now that you're awake again."

Garth's eyes were unfocussed. He whispered:

"The only survivor�"
----------

Garth recovered quickly, with the elastic healing ability of youth. He
hadn't been able to think of much besides the other two who had gone out
with him on the "easy" mission. No matter how he tried to tell himself
that their deaths weren't his fault, he couldn't shake the feeling of
guilt. It was Cause and Effect: he had pulled the trigger on his beam
gun, and the bombs had dropped.

The Captain came to visit him personally while he was in the infirmary,
with news of the action and a handful of decorations.

"The price was high, but your bravery went far beyond our expectations,
private. You performed your duty in an exemplary manner. Witnesses say
that you stood your ground and kept firing right up to the last moment,
and report that you scored heavy damage to one of the aircraft. When
last seen it was losing altitude and breaking up; the men from Jaburo
are giving you sole credit for the only enemy transport plane shot down.
Our interceptors accounted for three of their fighter craft, so all told
we dealt them a blow they won't soon forget. In token of your heroism, I
am proud to present you with the Federal Commendation Medal, and in
token of the sacrifice you made in the name of the Federation, with the
Silver Wound Medallion. You have also been put in for the Federal Star
and a promotion to Corporal. Later, when you feel better, there will be
a formal presentation ceremony and reception, but you have a few days
leave coming if you want to recuperate first. I also want to offer my
condolences to you for the loss of Sergeant Dewey and Corporal Danners.
No one anticipated that the Zeon troops would arm the transport planes
with ground attack weapons; we thought that they would be using all
their weight allowance to carry personnel. Spy satellite photos taken at
the base where they landed later showed that the planes were only half
filled with cargo and men� they evidently had a light load, so they were
probably carrying the bombs to attack this base on their way to
Capetown. Please, believe me, the loss of our men in the field prevented
the loss of countless more here at the base. Their deaths were not in
vain."

Garth was confused. He was a hero? How? How could he be a hero when all
he could remember was how terrified he'd been? If he hadn't been frozen
in his tracks, he'd have run away when he saw the bombs falling. How
could he be a hero when he felt responsible for the death of better men?

The only thing he could think of to do was take the leave time and go
home. Maybe he could straighten himself out if he talked it over with
his Grandfather.
----------

Garth left the bus at the stop closest to home and began to hobble on
his crutches. He had struggled into his best uniform and was wearing the
decorations the Captain had given him. While he wasn't sure he deserved
them, he wanted to see the look on his sister's face when she saw them.
She had teased him unmercifully when he'd joined the army, and when he
had been assigned only a few kilometers away from their home town, she'd
really dug into him about how the "mighty warrior" was going to save the
Federation. Well, maybe he wasn't going to save the Federation, but the
Captain said he'd saved the base, right? That had to count for
something, so maybe she had some crow to eat after all.

He rounded the corner of the street their apartment was on, then stopped
in shock.The entire block of apartments on his side of the street was
leveled. He could see the remains of an aircraft fuselage still tangled
in the rubble of the building he lived in. A neighbor woman he knew from
up the street, who had been sweeping her porch, saw him and came rushing
over.

"Oh dear, oh you poor boy� Your family�"

Cause and Effect.

He broke down in tears.
----------

Captain Matilda Jensen of the Earth Federation came home to Johannesburg
one final time for the funerals of her father and daughter, who had died
in a tragic accident when an enemy plane crashed into their apartment,
and that of her son, who had shot himself with his service pistol while
on medical leave. She never returned.