NEW MACROSS 10 - A Gundam Wing/Macross Plus Crossover
by: Joshua Loomis (cougar_jel@hotmail.com)
DISCLAIMER
Macross, Macross Plus and Macross 7 are all
registered trademarks owned and licensed by
Big West/Bandai. Macross Plus is distributed
by Manga Video in the US, Canada, and the UK.
Gundam Wing is copyright Sotsu Agency, Sunrise
and TV Asahi. Please don't sue me!
Battou Tenmou, the Zarritzen Empire, and the Doc are
all my characters, as well as their mecha, mannerisms,
etc. Please don't use 'em without my permission!
REMINDER
C&C is welcome and encouraged!! ^_^
CHAPTER THE SECOND: THINGS FALL APART
It hung against the velvety backdrop of space
like an amber Christmas tree ornament, spherical
and studded with towers of various sizes. Those
towers and the surrounding fleet of battle-craft
made the WarWorld intimidating, without anyone
being aware of the deadly weaponry contained
within.
Prince Arritzo, First-Born of His Most High
Majesty Emperor Zzantisch, strode down one of
the high-domed corridors deep within the WarWorld.
An almost tangible aura of anger trailed behind
him, causing the diminutive Workers to scuttle
away from him. He snorted contemptuously. He
was now two whole evolutionary stages above them,
not to mention of noble blood. Of course they
feared him!
He threw open the huge double-doors to the
throne room and found his sister, Lysszta,
already speaking to the Emperor and Empress.
He fixed a princely smile on his human face
and walked towards them. How he hated these
human forms! How could they be considered
superior to his previous form, the powerful
form of the Superior Soldier? Several
S-Soldiers stood at attention, their two-meter
frames covered in the chitin-like armor
of the Imperial Guard.
"Son! Lysstza was just telling us about
the battle," the Emperor boomed.
"I bet," Arritzo mumbled, looking
up at his father as he took the ceremonial
kneeling position... odd to do in the human body,
but quite workable. He flicked back a lock of
his semi-long green hair and smiled at his
parents.
"What has my dear sister been saying?"
"She claims you destroyed one of your own
Soldier units. Is this true?"
"He was in the process of fleeing the battle,
in cowardice and contrary to orders, my Empress."
"In the face of Ip-yonn, who would *not* run?"
asked the Emperor.
"It was not Ip-yonn himself," Arritzo replied
icily, "simply a mecha designed to represent Ip-yonn.
How they know our gods, I do not know."
"It is perhaps, simply, a coincidence," Lysstza
put in. The rulers exchanged a look.
"In any case, I was about to say that the
Observation drones have anaylized the metal used to
make the new mecha. It is ultra-light, highly
resistant to damage, and they are working on the
creation formula now."
"That's all well and good, sister, but how in
the four Hells will that help us?"
"The same way the Shifters will help us in our
next battle. We will use the humans' own weapons
against them and subdue them into surrender."
"That *is* the strategy as it stands, Prince
Arritzo," the Empress said. "As one of the plan's
progenitors, you should know this."
Arritzo growled subvocally, but nodded and
walked out of the throne room.
"I didn't dimiss you...!" the Emperor began
as the doors swung shut behind him. As he walked,
he looked up, at the statues of the gods. He
looked up at Ap-orrid... the demon with the curved
horns and vicious long claws that sprang from
his forearms... the god of War and Rage.
Mortal enemy of Ip-yonn.
Arritzo smild. Unpleasantly.
~ * * * * * * * ~
Zechs Merquise looked up at Epyon. He knew
that he had to put the name and actions of
Milliardo Peacecraft behind him. The more time he
spent away from the Zero System deep in Epyon's
innards, the more he recalled being more a soldier
than a leader of men. He was relieved his sister
would be all right. But another female had his
concern. He knew what he had to do, and he was
not sure how it would turn out. It had to be
done, he knew it. Sighing, he turned to her.
"Dorothy."
She had been looking at the battle damage
done to the fighter/mobile suits. Ugly damage.
Damage she'd never seen before. She had been
watching a couple of the crew hosing out one
of the cockpits, clearing away the remains of
an unfortunate pilot who's eject system had
malfunctioned.
"Dorothy...?"
She turned, her long blonde hair trailing
behind her. Her blue-gray eyes were full of
confusion, but she did her best to mask it.
"Yes, Mr. Milliardo?"
"I want you to go find Duo Maxwell. He
is most likely in the Sickbay."
She nodded and turned to walk away.
"And Dorothy. The name is Zechs Merquise."
She stopped, but didn't look back. After
a moment, she continued. Zechs turned back to
Epyon.
"What is in that back-up hard drive of
yours, Epyon?" he wondered aloud.
"So what do you make of it all?" asked
Isamu. General Millard, Isamu's former and
current CO, folded his hands under his chin and
made a low humming noise. Isamu knew this meant
the dark-skinned man was mulling the matter
over. The other figure at the table was
also looking thoughtfully at the holographic
image of one of the Gundams, the one that
carried the curved blades. He ran a large hand
through his high-and-tight sky blue hair and
frowned.
"They could be enemy spies," he rumbled.
"I doubt that," General Millard replied.
"Kibasen, the body we managed to salvage didn't
even closely resemble anything human."
Isamu nodded. They had plucked half an
alien corpse from the wreckage of one of the
silver mecha. It had probably been over two
meters tall (if the Crusader hadn't cut him in
half) and was powefully built, but not even
vaguely human.
"We're undermanned as it is," Isamu
said. "And when they saw the newcomers, the
aliens tucked tails or whatever and headed for
the hills. I think we could use that kind
of psychological weapon, if nothing else."
"I agree," Millard said. Kibasen sighed.
"Either you, Isamu, or Ms. Long must breif
these...Gundam pilots?...and let them decide.
We shouldn't just draft them."
"No problem."
General Millard got up and left, and Isamu
was right behind him when he heard Kibasen clear
his throat.
Oh boy. Here it comes, Isamu thought.
"Sit a while," the huge man said.
Isamu did so, trying not to think about
how dry his throat had gone.
"I understand you were with my nephew when
he died."
Isamu swallowed. "Yes, sir, I was. I
was in communication with him when he destroyed
the Ghost X-9 and possibly saved the Earth."
"You've been avoiding me, Captain. I
want to know why."
Not one for small talk, Isamu mused.
"I know how much you loved Guld, sir. And
I figured you held me responsible for his death.
God knows I did, for a long time."
Kibasen stood, extending his 2.5 meter frame
to it's full height. Isamu swore he could hear
his muscles straining against his tough Zentraedi
skin. But the older man was smiling...
"Isamu," he said with surprising gentleness,
"Guld was my protege, my most favored student. And
one of the things I taught him was the way of life
and death for a Zentraedi warrior. He stood by
those precepts, and died in the honorable manner
that all Zentraedi dream of. I hold no one
responsible for his death. And I certainly cannot
disregard the good you yourself did that day.
You are as much a hero to me and the crew of the
Breetai as Guld is."
Isamu could feel tears in his eyes as the huge
commander-general made for the door. Kibasen turned
to look over his shoudler at the young human.
"Come over to the Breetai sometime. Bring
Myung. It'd be my honor to dine with you."
And Isamu was alone. He closed his eyes and
said a silent prayer of thanks. Kibasen liked him...
and there were new pilots with powerful mecha...
"Maybe we'll pull out of this yet," he told the
empty room.
The medical bay was a mess.
Dorothy Catalonia tried her best to pick her way
through the large room without getting messed up, but
a stray spray of blood had marred her flawless
uniform. Normally, she would have recoiled in total
disgust. Now, however, she just looked down at
it. Blood. Human blood, not shed in battle, but
in horrible agony as doctors tried to save a life.
Another spurt hit her in the face. She recoiled
as if slapped.
As she looked back up, she heard with unearthly
clarity the screams of the dying, the cries for help,
the supplications to God and the painful wails for
mothers. Doctors and nurses rushed around, trying
to mend wounds and save lives, meeting with
marginal success.
"This is the true face of war."
She spun, shocked. Mr. Milliardo...no...Zechs
Merquise stood behind her, ashen-faced.
"This, these men and women, are dying and
writhing in agony because of a war. Because of
battle. Do you see any honor here, Dorothy? Do
the warriors seem beautiful, or glorious, as they
cry out for their mothers?"
Dorothy was speechless. Emotions fought like
wild animals in her gut. She blinked away tears
that for some reason wanted, needed, to be shed,
and looked around.
"Where...where's Maxwell?"
Zechs pointed to one of the intensive care
suites, the ones reserved for out-patients... or
those too far gone for surgery or care.
"Hilde Schbeiker is in there, along with
my semi-conscious sister," he explained. "They
stopped her external wounds from bleeding out, but
the internal damage was too great. It's only a
matter of time before she dies.
"Apparently she and Duo are close. Duo
doesn't know yet.
"If you feel you are brave enough, Dorothy,
go in there and watch what war is really about
unfold before your very eyes. I've said it before:
Wars are heartless."
She turned, but he was gone, lost in the
crowd of white lab coats stained with blood and
trays of surgical instruments. She turned back,
swallowed and opened the door.
Duo Maxwell knelt by Hilde's bedside, eyes
closed, the only sounds the fading chime of the
biomonitor and the soft clicking of rosary beads.
Hilde's body shook as Dorothy closed the door
behind her. Duo looked up, cobalt blue eyes
full of despair. Dorothy felt an icicle plunge
into her heart. She'd never seen anyone make
that face before. Her family had always been
so cold, so calculating, so assured and powerful.
She didn't feel any of those things now.
The monitors' beeping slowed then was
replaced by a tone that could have been the
wail of the dead. Duo's head hit the mattress
and Dorothy could hear his sobs. Then,
suddenly, his head snapped up, his braid lashing
his back like a whip, his eyes focusing on
Dorothy. He leapt over the bed and grabbed
Dorothy by the lapels of her White Fang uniform.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED??" he demanded.
"This is what you asked for, isn't it, Dorothy
Catalonia?? You're the one that wanted a glorious
battle! You're the one who dragged us all into
this! And now you're the one who's killed Hilde!
This is what you wanted, isn't it? ISN'T IT???"
He slammed her against the wall. To her own
surprise, she didn't scream or even think of
retaliating. She felt guilt crash against her
heart like waves ponding the cold rocks of
the shoreline, and she wept.
"You cry," Duo growled. "What the hell do
you have to be sad about? You should be happy
as a clam. You got your war, Dorothy. You got
your battles." He gestured to Hilde's bed. "But
you need to accept every little bit of battle.
Didn't you know this happened? Didn't you know
this is what battle is? It's pain. It is death.
It is sorrow and despair and all that is ugly
and hateful in mankind.
"You think I enjoy killing? You think I love
to fight? Is that what you think?"
"I...I..." she stammered.
Duo curled his lip and prepared to resume his
assault. But at that moment, Dorothy looked up at
him. Her blue-gray eyes were now tinged with
red. Tears streamed down her face, smearing
the blood on her cheek. She looked...alone.
Confused. Like...
A lost lamb.
The thought lanced through Duo's head like a
beam saber. Dorothy was lost. She really
had lost something, for she had had a form of
innocence, and now it was gone. She really had
only seen what she wanted to see in war, and now
she saw it all. It was too much for her.
Duo fought down the urge to feel any sort of
compassion for her. Not now. She had to see
this. She had to deal with it. And he wasn't
going to help her at all. She had to help
herself. He was sure of it.
Why, then, did he feel the urge to help?
"I hate it," he said at length. "I am the
God of Death because that is what I've been chosen
to be. Not because I want to, or because I like
it. War really is hell, Dorothy. Now you
know the truth. Deal with it."
And with that, he walked out. Dorothy
collapsed on the floor and bawled. She wanted
to die. She felt the pit of her stomach churn
with acid. She tasted bile in her mouth. As
she tried to fight back the wave of nausea,
the doctors came in to try and revive Hilde.
They couldn't do it. The monitor was shut off,
and a deathly silence pervaded.
"Damn it," one doctor said.
"Real shame," the other concurred. "It
stinks that these kids got dragged into this."
"How'd it happen?"
"I don't know..."
"...it's my fault," Dorothy croaked.
"Huh?" The doctors turned to see her
on the floor in the fetal position.
"...it's all my fault..." And with
that, she gave up. Dorothy vomited, the
stinking liquidy mass covering the floor
in front of her and splashing on her
uniform. She cried even as she threw up.
The doctors helped her to her feet and
called for help. Finally, her brain
couldn't take it anymore and simply shut
down.
Dorothy slept, but her dreams were
anything but pleasant.
~ * * * * * * * ~
The interior of the Von Braun was a
honeycomb of science labs, interspersed with
large work areas for experimental mecha
designs. It was in one of those that the
Crusader was born.
Battou Tenmou walked through the
corridors until he came across a particular
lab. Inside he found his best friend. A
hair shorter than Battou's two meters, the
lanky man in the lab coat studied a sliver
of metal. He adjusted his glasses and
looked to the door.
"Battou! Please, come in."
"How goes it, Doc?"
Doctor Jijin beamed. He gestured
to the plate on the table.
"I have done it. With the information
Heero Yuy could give me, and what I have
learned through simple analysis, I have
unlocked the secrets of Gundamium.
"This is a plate of the alloy, taken
from a nonessential part of Wing Zero. The
armor is light, nigh-invulnerable, and
requires several special elements."
"Like what?"
Jijin set down the tweezers holding the
sliver of Gundamium and picked up a notepad.
"Equal parts of titanium, aluminum,
platinum, steel and mercury. All parts
must be liquified and allowed to combine in
a zero-gravity environment. Then..."
"Okay, okay, I get the picture," said
Battou with a chuckle.
"Hikari, are you trying to bore Battou
to death again?"
Battou turned and smiled. Standing
in the door to the lab was Dr. Jijin's wife,
Makoto. She brushed back a bit of her
curly brown hair and her husband smiled.
"I was simply relating to Battou what
I had found."
"I know. I'm just teasing." She walked
in, curls bobbing slightly, and kissed Jijin
on the cheek. "I just wanted to come by and
tell you that Lt. Zillah is getting her
request."
Battou blinked. "Zillah, Kibasen's
daughter?"
"That is correct," Jijin said. "She is
older than she seems, but still has youthful
energy and drive to succeed."
"Comes from being full-blooded Zentraedi,"
Makoto observed.
"Ain't it the truth," Battou said quietly.
"In any event, the Pittsburgh called in
to the Macross 10 and reported that all 5
Sturmvogels are completed."
Battou smiled. As much as he loved his
19, the VF-22 Sturmvogels, based on Guld's
YF-21 prototype, were a sight to behold in
combat. They were reserved mostly for special
forces. Jijin blinked.
"We were authorized to build them?"
"Millard called in some favors from Earth
and had the blueprints beamed out. The 'burgh
whipped them out in record time."
"Excellent. I must make a request to
General Millard that the Pittsburgh be given
over completely to Gundamium work."
Both pilots looked puzzled.
"That'll cut our overall production by
a third. The Bethlehem and the Chicago might
get overworked," Battou observed. The Chicago
and the Bethlehem, Three-Star class mobile
factory ships like the Pittsburgh, were the
sole means of mecha production this far out
in space. But Makoto shrugged.
"I don't see it being a problem. Sure,
we're a little undermanned, but with the new
Amazon squadron... of which I am a proud member,
I might add... in addition to Battou and Isamu's
Skulls, we can hold off those alien bastards."
Battou grinned at his fellow pilot. He
felt at home here, with Hikari and Makoto. They
were two of the few people he opened up with in
the fleet. Most of his peers knew him as
intense, withdrawn, driven. He was fine with
that, because that's how he was on the battlefield
anyway.
"Well...thank you, love. I am sure together
we can convince General Millard."
"It's purely a strategic thing," Battou added,
"so that stuck-up prig Iyoku can stay out of it."
Makoto nodded, shoulder-length hair bobbing.
No one in the military branch of the New Macross 10
fleet could figure out how someone like Iyoku had
been elected mayor. But it seemed it was
just one of those things.
Two communicators went off at once. Battou
and Makoto looked down at their belts
simultaneously. It was a call to battle. Battou
sped from the room, but Makoto lingered.
"Be careful," Hikari Jijin said, taking off
his glasses. "I do not want you getting hurt."
"I'm a big girl, sweetheart. I know what I
gotta do, and I can handle it."
They kissed. "I love you so," he said. She
smiled and kissed him again.
"Root for me!" she giggled and was gone.
Doctor Jijin smiled and proceeded to hail
the New Macross to very quickly talk to General
Millard.
~ * * * * * * * ~
Lucrezia Noin knew she was not prepared to
head out in a brand-new mobile suit. But the dark
blue VF-22 Sturmvogel she'd been assigned as a
member of Amazon Squadron seemed very similar to
the controls of the Taurus, save the need for
a neurohelmet and the mode selection switches.
When she and Sally Po had volunteered, they'd been
given a crash course in those new aspects. But
the real surprise had been the fifth woman to
enter the room.
"I'd like to join you, if I may."
Dorothy Catalonia had stood there, dressed
in a very simple powder-blue jumpsuit. When
asked about her uniform, she'd paled and kept
quiet, focusing on the lessons taught by Lt.
Zillah. An imposing woman, with almost manly
phsyique and high-and-tight sea green hair, she
was tough but fair. Suprisingly, Dorothy proved
to be an attentive and willing student.
Now, in the blue-with-purple-trim flight
suit of an Amazon, Dorothy climbed into the
cockpit of her Sturmvogel. It powered up and
she let out a breath.
"I'll redeem myself any way I can," she
whispered. She had yet to explain this change
within her, even to herself. Had it been the
spray of blood? The cries of anguish? Zechs'
comments? Or had it been Duo's eyes... those
sad, beautiful eyes...
She shook her head. Not now. While the
Gundam pilots deliberated, she and the other
women were able to sign on to the Amazons and
lend a hand. She'd heard that Zechs was heading
out in Epyon as well, to fight these aliens
first-hand, though he seemed... almost reluctant
to do so.
"All right, Amazons," Zillah barked. "Let's
show those men in their command towers what we can
do!"
"We're with you, sister!" Makoto Jijin
replied. Right from the start, Makoto had welcomed
Dorothy and helped her. She was a very bright soul,
and Dorothy... as well as Noin and Sally... took an
immediate liking to her.
The Amazons launched for the first time, and
for the first time, Dorothy Catalonia was in the
thick of battle. She took in each moment, not to
savor it, but to learn. To learn everything about
war... but not out of love for it. She wanted to
know how she could absolve herself of all the sins
that weighed so heavily on her soul...
Crimson in color, the Shifters moved in first.
Their speed was more than the usual human mecha.
The two white ones with the forward-swept wings and
the new blue ones might pose a problem, but for now
the Shifters, so named for their ability to shift
from sleek transit modes to combative upright-walking
modes, were holding their own.
"Further word on the Guardian design?" Arritzo
asked.
"We have analyzed the new alloy fully and the
Guardians are going into full production as we
speak," came the gurgling voice of the scientist.
"I have requested that the solider generation be
doubled, and new pods are being filled."
Arritzo nodded. Zarritzen were grown, not
born. Although the human forms had come with new
equipment he was unfamiliar with... but that stirred
any time he was near his sister...
"Brother?"
Speaking of... the other custom Leader hovered
near him, pistol-like energy weapon in hand. He
smiled.
"Their science vessel is unprotected," he
replied, glancing at his battle-overview display.
"Come with me, sister, and let us show these
inferior beings the power of the Zarritzen Empire!"
Lysstza nodded, following her brother's custom
Leader. As she did, she saw the tenacity with which
the humans fought. Even near the seemingly
inconsequetial vessels, the ones covered in bright
lights and having no apparent strategic purpose,
they fought like Ap-orrid's hounds. And they
were inferior?
Shaking off her doubts, she disarmed a mecha
with a shot from her pistol as she passed it,
focusing on the task at hand...
Battou pulled his sword free of a Gold suit
and looked up. His scanners told him that two
Golds, custom models, were headed for the Von
Braun. Over the comm, chatter told him that
Millard had granted Jijin's request, and that Doc
was staying on the Von Braun to continue his
research. Yang Newman, the other prominent
scientist, had already left. But Doc was
made of sterner stuff.
The long rifle tucked under the arm of one
of the custom Golds, the one with the spikey
wings, made him nervous. Battou shifted
Crusader into jet mode and followed them.
The other Gold, with the curved wings, looked
over its shoulder and saw him. After a moment,
the other spun and launched a volley of missiles
at him. Battou dodged, shifting to Gerwalk...
"Continue on to the target," Arritzo said.
He readied the rail cannon as Lysstza complied.
"Ip-yonn!!" cried one of the soldiers.
Arritzo growled as the other mecha drew
some kind of sword. How quiant. Chuckling, the
prince dropped the elevation of the rail cannon
and took off one of the white mecha's legs.
The other, surprisingly, did not relent. It
simply shifted fully into humanoid mode and
attacked Arritzo. Arritzo grinned as the
other mecha came into contact with his
rail cannon.
"Stupid human," he growled, and fired.
The white mecha was blown backwards. The
torso had nearly been folded in half by the
nickel-ferrous slug. The sword spun away, and
Arritzo caught it. He drew his own melee
weapon, a knife-like blade that had been
newly reforged with the new allow, and sliced
the blade off of the sword near where it
met the cross-guard.
His smile grew even more as he heard
the charge explode and saw his sister's Leader
shoot past him.
"The science vessel is crippled," she
reported, her voice strangely void of the
sound of victory. She sounded introspective,
not jubulant as she should be. Puzzled by
this, Arritzo followed.
As they moved to escape, one of the
new blue mecha moved to intercept them. As
his sister fired her pistol, Arritzo lined up
his shot. When the blue mecha fell back, he
fired, taking the other mecha's head off its
shoudlers. As it floudered, he proceeded
to dismember the machine. His sister battered
its torso with pistol shots as he did so,
and there was no response. His scanners
read the human pilot as alive but
unconcious.
"At last, a prisoner!" he exclaimed.
"Come, my subjects, and return with me to
celebrate our victory!"
The Zarritzen fell back and Arritzo could
not stop smiling. Lysstza, on the other hand,
couldn't stop looing at the mecha torso tucked
under her arm. Who was inside? What were they
like? Her mind burned with these questions as
they made their escape.
~ * * * * * * * ~
Battou Tenmou came to in one of the ICU
suites. Isamu stood at the foot of his bed,
looking at his friend with a soft smile.
"How are you Battou?"
"I feel like the Macross just landed on
me. How long was I out?"
"A few hours. That hit from the Gold
railgun really knocked it out of you. Crusader
fared worse, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean?"
"...It's totaled, Battou. The sword's
broken, the power core is shot, and even if
we got it working again, the Crusader would
be close to flying apart without a major
overhaul that might take weeks."
"So what's the problem? I'm sure Doc..."
At the mention of the name, Isamu's face
turned to ash. Battou looked at his
commander and friend with concern.
"Captain?"
"They bombed the Von Braun."
The statment hit Battou harder than the
nickel-ferrous slug.
"Doctor Jijin was killed instantly. Half
the staff is dead or in the medical bay. We
had to move some of the wounded to the nursing
wing of the West Point. The students went nuts
but at least they have live subject to deal
with.
"That's not all... Makoto Jijin, one of
Amazon Squadron, got captured or killed. We
can't find the torso of her Sturmvogel or
the escape pod. I'm sorry Battou... I know
you were close..."
"They were my only family."
Isamu blinked. He searched for what to
say, but before he could form the words, there
was a knock at the door. He stepped outside
to find Quatre waiting for him.
"What's up?"
The young Arab took a moment, then looked
up at him.
"We heard about all the scientists that
were killed. I understand one of them has
one of your factory ships making Gundamium."
"That's right. Doctor Jijin did that
before he died."
"Captain Isamu... I've talked it over
with the other Gundam pilots. And I'm
sorry we didn't sign on when Noin and the
others did... but we're a team now, and
we have to do things as one. Noin and the
others aren't part of the team, really..."
"What are you saying Quatre?"
Quatre swallowed, and Isamu saw an
iron will behind the innocent eyes. He knew
this kid was ready for a scrap.
"We want to protect the civilians, sir.
We're ready to join your fight."
~ * * * * * * * ~
"What have you found?"
Lysstza hugged herself, searching her
mind for the proper answer to her brother's
question. The will of the human woman was
astounding. Even after repeated questioning,
she hadn't broken. Her language had been easy
enough to translate, and the flight recorder
was proving lucerative.
It was also proving to Lysstza that the
humans were not as inferior as Arritzo seemed
to think. They fought, they died, they
protected and followed orders like any
true Zarritzen warrior. She remembered, in
particular, how the white mecha with the
sword had been so quick to get between
them and the science vessel, like a mother
hunta-beast protecting her brood. Of
course, the hunta-beasts had died with
every other creature on their homeworld
when the cataclysm had torn it apart
and forced the Zarritzen into space...
"Sister?"
Arritzo turned and regarded his sister.
She seemed even more thoughtful now. He
took a moment to appreciate her. The
thoughtful pout of her lips... the
shimmering green of her eyes... the
long tresses of golden brown hair...
the curves of her human body... strangely,
he was not repulsed in the way he was by
the prisoner. But he pushed his thoughts
back to the task at hand.
"Nothing, as yet," she replied.
"I will speak to her soon. Secure a
record-taker so we can transmit the results
of a Zarritzen interrogation to the humans."
Shuddering, Lysstza nodded and left.
Arritzo turned back to his desk, and the
design board. The humans designated the
Zarritzen mecha by way of color. Soldiers
were Silvers, Leaders were Golds, and the
Shifters were Crimsons. By the look of it,
this meant the Guardians would be called
Ebons or Blacks. He prefered the sound
of Ebon. He smiled down at the design...
merging the Shifter technology, the
light new alloy that armored the Guardians,
and the resemblance to Ap-orrid...
"Ebongold," he said to himself.
And Prince Arritzo laughed. It was a
laugh of bloodlust, a laugh of triumph, a
laugh of chaos and death. It was the
laugh of Ap-orrid...
...the laugh of war and rage.
~ * * * * * * * ~
TO BE CONTINUED...
~ * * * * * * * ~
next...THE BATTLE IS JOINED
Joshua Loomis ("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
English Major `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
& (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
Jedi Master _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(il),-'' (li),' ((!.-'
James 1:2-3
Ephesians 6:13
1 Corinthians 13:7-8
http://rekhodiah.diaryland.com
email: jeloomis@planetx.bloomu.edu
cougar_jel@hotmail.com
http://www.thehungersite.com <--- One click, once a day.
"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" -Percy Bysshe Shelley,
"Ozymandias"
"The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact."
- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
(Act V, Scene 1, l.7-8)
"Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."
-Yoda
"The worst foe lies within the self."
-Parasite Eve
"Don't think you are...know you are." -Morpheous
Don't act Christ-like, be Christ-like - a storyteller, a listener, a
teacher, a hero, and a lamb. Give generously, live adventurously, love
unconditionally, and when all else fails, smile because God loves you.
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