The dramatic end to Act 6! This should get SOME response out of you!
Feedback, please! Even flames, if you can't be bothered for C and C!
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/gundam
Earlier parts are there!
"HOW DARE YOU LOOK SO MUCH LIKE MY SAFFIR-CHAN!"
http://www.homestead.com/quicksilverslabyrinth
http://www.method.org/gundam
---------------------------------
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Find a job, post your resume on Yahoo! Careers.
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency.txt
-- Desc: Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency.txt
Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency,
Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka
and all original characters and plot copyright
2000 by Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please
ask permission before reposting.
SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING
SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT V, PART IV
Kakaekirenai hodo yume o mite
Minna kanaeru no
I have so many dreams that I can't hold them
all
They will all come true
--Gundam Wing, Joy to My Life
[Dorothy Catalonia image song]
****************************************
Scene XIII: Of War, Peace, and Pacifism
"To tell the ones who hear no sound,
Whose sons are living in the ground,
Peace on Earth."
--U2, Peace on Earth
****************************************
"I'm not going."
Helena blinked her sapphire blue eyes at her
boyfriend, trying to understand what he had just
told her. "What?" she whispered finally.
"I am not being party to bringing the Gundams
back. They were sent away for a reason, and I'll
be damned if I do anything to support it."
Chris Johnsen rose to his feet, and walked over
to his shelf. He'd had to shift rooms since his
was currently a "Crime Scene". Getting thrown
out of his place and being supervised as he
packed his belongings had not been one of the
moments he wanted to write home about. His
father would have pulled him out of school in a
heartbeat had it come to his attention.
His reason for staying sat on the wooden desk,
looking at him with inquisitive eyes. There was
tension around her mouth, but her golden hair
was tied back into three perfect ponytails and
her uniform was as immaculate as ever. They
were an odd couple- him, known for his laid
back and accepting nature, while Helena was
the outgoing and ambitious type. While he was
handsome, he didn't quite match Helena's
angelic beauty. People wondered what they saw
in each other.
He could have answered easily enough. Helena
was like a sun; she drew people towards her to
orbit, seek warmth, and bathe in her glorious
rays. Duo had a touch of the same quality, a
charisma and magnetism that made him almost
impossible for the unwary to resist. The two
teens could charm the masses through their
very presence alone.
Chris, though, was the moon to her sun. He
depended on her light, but knew she depended
on his quiet contemplative presence to keep her
grounded, to keep her from becoming out of
touch. She was exceptional; he reminded her
what ordinary was. He loved her and supported
her in what she did, amused by the passion she
used to undertake what she wanted. This was
the first time that they had ever really disagreed.
Chris wasn't quite sure when his life had fallen
into chaos. He had liked his luxurious,
comfortable world, and he had seen no reason
to change.
Though Chris never made a deal of it, his family
was among the wealthiest in known space. They
rivaled the Winners of L4, the Imonoyamas of
Japan, and the Kennedys of America, to name a
few. As such, they were fervent supporters of
the status quo, and intermarriage among the
upper class had inevitably linked them to
Roshtilda Dumont's descendants.
Dumont had been the original founder of the
Absolute Pacifism movement. Her ideas, while
not revolutionary, fell in with the newly-
developing Cinq Kingdom. The Kingdom had
spread it through the aristocracy, and the result,
as they would say, is history. While the current
Queen of Cinq may have been the world's most
famous supporter, she was not the only one.
Especially not among the elite; families like his.
All his life, he had been taught war was wrong,
to turn the other cheek. He had been taught to
believe in the essential goodness in humanity, to
believe that diplomacy, when done correctly,
would always work. While at times he had
questioned it, he believed.
He had to.
Helena, though... was a warmonger. Well, be
fair, he chided himself. That makes her sound
bloodthirsty. She merely believes that
sometimes war is necessary to purge humanity
of its evil, of the pent-up rage which is so much
a part of it. At least that's what she says.
He could never agree with that. Never, never,
never. Killing never solved anything.
Helena studied him carefully. "You have to face
facts, Chris. Duo's already in Japan, we're going
to pick him up, and this is going to be the last
place you'll want be. There's going to be
repercussions, dangerous ones. You'll be a
handy target, and if Shinobu and I leave you
here alone, you'll be in danger."
He studiously kept his eyes on the bindings,
reading them off mentally. Romeo and Juliet....
La Morte d'Arthur... This was an argument that
had been brewing, one he had been hoping to
avoid. Mr. Midshipman Hornblower... Uncle
Tom's Cabin.... "I'll be fine. And you shouldn't
go, either. It's not your battle. Let Duo deal with
it- it's none of our business."
She rose to her feet. "Are you going to start
telling me what to do, then?" she asked. Her
voice was sweet, but Chris knew she was pissed
off.
"It's not our business."
"It IS!" she declared, rising to her feet angrily.
Even though she only came up to his shoulder,
her fury gave her enough presence to make him
gulp. "If we want the right to live in a peaceful
world, we must work for it ourselves. Someone
has to be the one to draw the line in the dirt, and
say 'I'm not going to take it anymore.'"
"Why us?" Chris gave up the pretense of
examining his book collection. "We're not
warriors. We're not soldiers, or politicians. We're
just a bunch of school kids who happened to be
in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"History is made up of people who were 'in the
wrong place at the wrong time,' Chris! Or maybe
it's the right place! We live in momentous times,
beloved, and if we sit and let others make the
important decisions to be made, we're no better
then marionettes!"
Chris felt a rare flash of temper. "And bringing
weapons of mass destruction to Earth is the
right thing to do?"
"It's better then believing in a philosophy that,
while wonderful in theory, couldn't hold water if
you gave it a bucket and told it where the well
was!"
He flinched. "The Cinq Kingdom uses it to this
day!" he retorted, his voice rising.
"And look where that got it! The royal family was
slaughtered, and the only reason Queen Relena
maintained control over it was because she was
friends with Major Noin, Milliard Peacecraft is
her brother, and the Gundam pilots all protected
her! She was impotent by herself!"
"She was not! She's the most respected
politician on planet or in space! She-"
A knock on the door interrupted him before he
could continue. The two blinked as Shinobu
shyly peeked his head in. "I am very sorry to
interrupt you, but General Po is due to arrive
here in two hours. You had better pack."
"I'm not going," Chris said.
The young Asian frowned. "What?"
"I'm not helping you! I won't stop you, but I will
not be party to murder!"
The other two were quiet. Finally Helena found
her voice. "Is that what you think? Really? That
we're advocating murder?"
"Yes! Murder is defined as killing inhumanly,
killing brutally! Aren't that what the Gundams
do? They depersonalize death!"
"Tell Duo that."
"I don't want to talk about him." Chris turned to
leave the room, but Shinobu caught his arm.
"Kimi wa okubyou mono da," Shinobu spat
angrily.
"What?"
"You are being an idiot! A coward!" Shinobu's
accent was thicker then usual, and his skin was
flushed. "We are not here to simply enjoy life!
We are here to challenge it, to explore the
possibilities! We are helping Duo not just
because he is our friend, but we believe that
some things are worth fighting for!"
"There is no point in fighting!"
"Dete ike, kono shirinuke me!" Shinobu spat,
transferring his hand to Chris' collar and
dragging him out of the room. "I need to talk to
your girlfriend; she is saner."
Chris watched as the door shut, stumbling into
the wall. "Great. Thrown out of my own room."
Kimi wa okubyou mono da : Japanese, "You are
a coward."
Dete ike, kono shirinuke me: Japanese, street
slang: "Get out of here, you fucking idiot!"
****************************************
Scene XIV: Not a Laughing Matter
"Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career.
And where are the clowns? There ought to be
clowns..
. Well, maybe next year."
--Stephen Songheim, Send in the Clowns
****************************************
"General Po, you have a call on line sixteen."
The aide was young, one she didn't recognize.
"I'll take it in my office," Sally said, exhaustion
coloring her voice. She was tired and on the
verge of a breakdown. She strode into her office,
kicking the door shut behind her with a casual
thrust of her left leg. Hurrying over to the paper-
strewn desk, she grabbed her comfortable
leather chair and plopped on it, valiantly
pretending not to see the piles of unfinished
paperwork on her desk as she reached over
them to toggle the switch.
"Hello?"
The screen didn't broadcast a vid, so
immediately her suspicions were aroused. When
the voice spoke, it was scrambled. "I found the
bird. Three to transport from the rookery," the
computer-jumbled voice said. Then the
transmission ended.
If Sally hadn't known who it was, she never
would have had any clue what was going on.
But she recognized the agreed upon signal, and
an eager smile quirked her lips. She hit the
intercom button and tried to keep a level voice
as she spoke. "Book me a shuttle and a pilot,
top security! I need to leave at fourteen hundred
hours today."
The aide was apparently experienced enough
not to ask questions. "Yes, ma'am. Any
preference on the pilot?"
"Silverstein- no, he's in Africa... um, better make
it Krushchev."
"Krushchev just came back yesterday from the
relief mission to L1."
"I know. He's had almost sixteen hours off. Time
for him to get back to work."
"Aye, ma'am. Is there anything else?"
Sally gave her a tired smile. "Send someone to
my quarters to pack me a bag- my current night
bag is dirty. And have that person delivery me a
new uniform here. Thanks!" She cut the
transmission, leaning back into her chair.
Unconsciously her fingers crept to the small
remote she kept in her desk drawer, flicking it
into the "On" position. With a hum, her chair
leapt to life, and she practically melted at the
feel of the warmth that was emitted. This was
her guiltiest pleasure: a heated chair that she
had requisitioned from stores, which had had to
place a special order from a custom
manufacturer for it. It was true that it was quite
an extravagance, but she reasoned that the
benefits were worth the expensive sticker price.
Besides, it also had a built in massage function.
They would pry it out of her possession over her
dead body.
She closed her eyes, trying to orient herself. She
felt like she was walking a delicate tightrope,
and she wasn't fond of that sensation. She liked
control.
It seemed like less then a minute before she
heard the insistent chime of the intercom jolt her
awake. She had fallen asleep; not a surprise
with the sleep deprivation she had been
experiencing. Rumor had it that Une was on the
verge of a nervous break down, and Sally was
scarcely able to believe she'd be able to do
better. She was stronger then Une, but not by
much. Une was a damn stone.
She switched the chair off and rose to her feet,
stretching slowly and regretting the warmth she
was leaving behind. HQ's air conditioning was
turned up a little too high for her liking, and she
was constantly campaigning to get it turned
down to something reasonable. Une, though,
came from a cold country and like things around
her to be positively frigid.
It was easy to guess who won that battle.
The intercom was still buzzing. She wished she
could pretend she hadn't heard it, but that would
only lead to an annoying pounding on the door.
It was a pain to be one of the most powerful
people in the world - you had so little time to
yourself.
"Yes?" she said, hoping her voice didn't sound
as testy as she felt.
"Your clothes are here. General Brown has
them."
"Send him in!" she ordered.
The General came in, trailed by an aide who
didn't look more then twenty. "Why, General, I
didn't know you were into woman's fashion," she
said teasingly.
"I'm not, but Captain Lopez is," he answered,
smiling teasingly at his young aide. "I sent him
and his girlfriend over to pick up what you'd
need, since your staff is seriously depleted at
the moment."
The Hispanic man colored and handed over a
garment bag and a duffel. "There's a few
uniforms in there, along with the necessities
Airman O'Connelly said you'd need." His cheeks
flushed even more as he rambled an
explanation.
A perfectly wicked idea came to her. She knew it
was unworthy of her, but she hadn't done
anything mischievous in months, so she figured
she was entitled to allow her impish streak to
surface. She could pretend, just for a moment,
that things were peaceful, and the world was
just.
"Thank you," she said, unbuttoning her jacket.
"General, is Lopez cleared?"
The older man nodded. "He's my new aide, ever
since you saw fit to reassign Major Trudeau.
He's green, but he has an eidetic memory. It's
been useful."
"Could also be dangerous, but I'll trust your
judgment. And I am sorry about Trudeau, but it
was necessary, since I'm running out of brass to
place around. He is one of the best agents I
have."
"Should be, since I trained him!" Brown retorted
with a friendly grin.
Sally laughed and tossed her jacket over her
chair. "Have a seat, then, both of you. Do you
need coffee?"
"No, Sally, we just came from the officer's club."
His eyes widened as he caught the sparkle in
her eyes, a sparkle that had been long missing.
He realized that she was up to something, and
quickly figured out what. He almost pitied Lopez
for the shock he was going to get. Almost.
"Ahhhh... haven't been there in months. Is the
ma po dou fu still any good?" She shrugged out
of her shirt, shivering slightly as the cold air of
the room hit her skin. Standing in just her pants
and bra, she open the bag and began to
rummage through it. "I hope you packed my skin
cream," she muttered to herself.
"I wouldn't know. You know I can't eat any of
that... junk. You should try a hamburger."
Lopez, meanwhile, was torn on how he should
be acting. It would be rude to stare at Sally's
figure, but there was something fascinating
about the sight of a superior officer wandering
around unclothed. Sally was pretty, and about
the same age as he was.
She glared at Brown as she found her cream.
"You just have no respect for culture." Opening
the jar, she inhaled the pleasantly spicy scent.
The cream was cold on her fingers, but she
smeared it on her hands and shoulders anyway.
She was constantly suffering from dry skin.
"I do, but that's not our discussion right now. I
assume you heard about Noin?"
"Une was very happy about that. She practically
broadcasted it to the entire organization."
"You sound disapproving."
"I'm not, exactly. I'm glad to hear Noin is alive,
but I gave her up for dead. I've mourned her,
and suddenly she's back from beyond the grave.
I just... can't quite wrap my mind around it."
She sorted through the garment bad and pulled
out a new top to replace the one she had just
discarded. Her rough fingers caught on her
dress one, but she passed it over in favor of one
of her regular working shirts.
Lopez looked like he was ready to faint.
"Must you strip in front of my very young aide?"
Brown said.
Sally affected surprise. "I'm sorry, but I have
limited time here. I assumed it wouldn't bother
you."
"It's not bothering me, but not everyone has your
medical detachment to a naked body."
She laughed. "I'm sure you're appreciating the
show."
He grinned at her for an answer.
Lopez had caught sight of her bra, and finally
gave into the urge to cover his eyes with his
hands. It made him look twelve years old.
Deciding she'd had enough fun at Lopez's
expense, Sally quickly finished changing, undid
her hair and picked up a brush. "Captain, I'm
more comfortable holding a conversation with
someone whose face I can see," she chided
gently.
He hesitantly pulled his hands back and raised
her brown eyes to her. She could see the relief
in his expression as he noticed that she was
once again fully dressed.
"General, is there any news on that unknown
faction?" He lost his good humor, and she knew
this was bad. Very bad. So bad she could smell
it from the colonies bad. Sally stopped brushing
her honey-blonde hair and studied his grave
expression. "What is it?"
"It appears that some vast network who we were
previously unaware of is working behind the
scenes in several hotspots."
"What are they doing?"
"They have funding from somewhere, and are
supplying several anti-Gundam groups with
resources, and seem to be helping with
communications between resistance cells.
They're also interfering with various Colonies,
and L1 has been experiencing some major
political upheavals and street wars which we
have traced to the Black Diamond Cartel.
Someone, though, is working for the Cartel on
Earth, and it's not an established agent. There's
been reports of assassins and dealers coming
through customs and taking out some Preventer
agents. And according to one source, they've
even placed a contract on 05."
The curse exploded from her mouth before she
even had a chance to restrain it. "Shit!"
"I quite agree."
"Why would they want to kill Wufei? I mean, it
makes no sense- the Cartel has never been
interested in anything beyond the Breaks."
"They're changing, adapting to the new era. You
know the Doi government has been promising
the L1 citizens it would clean up the Breaks. The
cartel is being forced into a corner, and that's not
a pretty thing for the rest of us."
"So they're looking to expand their reach," she
said, carefully parting her hair so she could twist
it back into her trademark braids.
"But it's not just the cartel. A007 is having the
military funded coup, and there's proof that
someone actually did, in fact, fire on the
Preventers at Moscow, and that the shooter was
an expert marksman. Preventer agents
worldwide are being assassinated. It could be
anti-Gundam backlash, but if it is, it's extremely
well organized, well informed, and well
financed."
A frown furrowed the smooth skin of her brow.
"The three worst combinations."
"I hate opponents who have brains. It makes
killing them so much harder."
"Michael!" Sally exclaimed, trying to keep from
laughing at his rather shocking statement.
Michael always DID believe in shoot first, ask
questions later philosophy.
"What?" he said, affecting an innocent
expression similar to the one she had used
earlier.
"Never mind. So what's the connection between
everything? What can someone possibly hope to
gain from a revolution on A007 and letting the
Breaks continue, even expand? There's no
connection."
"You're right, there isn't," an unexpected voice
said, interjecting before she could finish her train
of thought.
Sally turned, her eyes narrowing on the young
aide who just dared to interrupt her. It was
extremely rude, and violated protocol, but at that
moment, she didn't care. "What do you mean?"
"It's obvious that the goal is to disrupt the current
political system. My guess would be that some
high ranking, upper-class anarchists are plotting
to overthrow the World Nation."
She blinked slowly. "And how, may I ask, do you
come to that conclusion?" she asked, her voice
positively frigid. "Isn't it more likely it's anti-
Gundam protesters?"
Lopez's bronze skin had paled. This wasn't the
joking woman who had thoughtlessly changed in
front of a general. This was a brigadier general
in her own right, and she was demanding
answers, and if the answers weren't what she
wanted to hear, she'd cut him dead. He took a
deep breath, knowing his career was riding on
his next few words. "The key is A007. Events
there started last September, well over nine
months before the Gundam pilots' identities
were revealed. That means that it's extremely
doubtful there is a connection, especially since
news of A007 didn't hit the mainstream presses
until late March."
"You're smart. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two, ma'am."
Sally Po blinked. Enrico Lopez was actually
older then she was. "Who did you fight for during
the War?" she wanted to know.
"I received a deferment from the Federation
when I was eighteen. I entered Johns Hopkins to
study medicine, but transferred several times
until I graduated from Oxford with a degree in
economics. Immediately thereafter I applied to
the Preventers officer school. I've been an agent
for about a year."
"Impressive resume. Watch this one, Brown.
He's going to have your job if you're not careful."
Brown smiled. "I do."
Lopez squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"It's sound reasoning," she said, tying off her last
braid with an elastic band. Her monitor's black
screen served well enough to show her a
reflection of a reasonably composed General.
"Do you have anything else to report?"
"No leads on the pilots from any of my agents,
though one claims to have seen Trowa Barton
from a distance in Milan. When he got closer,
Barton had disappeared."
"Could just be wishful thinking. Do you know
how many sightings have been reported to the
hotlines since their names were revealed?" Sally
asked.
"When I checked yesterday, the count was at
165,437."
"Anyway, if you've nothing else to report, I have
to leave. My shuttle leaves in half an hour, and I
want to grab something to eat on the way."
"Where are you going?" asked the old spy.
A smile lit her face. "I just had a transmission
from Cliffside. Matsuura has managed to locate
Yuy."
"WHAT! When were you going to tell me?"
Brown demanded, rising angrily to his feet. If
there was one thing he hated, it was being cut
out of the loop.
"Shush, you! I haven't even told Une, and you
shouldn't tell her either! We both know that
Matsuura is a security risk- for God sakes, the
kid's from L1 most likely! I don't want to get her
hopes up- I'll tell her when I have something
concrete!"
He nodded grudgingly. "So what are you going
to do?"
"I'm going over to pick him and a few others up
at Cliffside. After that, I'm going to locate Yuy
hopefully and bring him back here!"
"Good luck! I've heard he's strong willed. You'll
have to do a lot of fast talking."
"To put it mildly. Anyway, I need to go." She
rose from her chair and gathered the two bags.
"Enjoy your flight, Sally. And stay safe," Brown
said.
She gave him a smile. "I will. You do the same."
Lopez held the door open for both of them,
allowing his superiors to proceed him. He was
fervently relieved that his big mouth hadn't
gotten him demoted.
As the door shut behind him, a small bug began
to transmit the conversation it had recorded.
****************************************
Scene XV: Dreaming
"Feel so free
Don't wake me from the dream
It's really everything it seemed."
--Cowboy Bebop, Blue
****************************************
"We've got to hit them at the heart," Gustavson
said grimly, folding his hands in front of him on
the long table where papers lay scattered and
the tips of laser light pointers congregated in a
small heap at the center, and the wrapper of a
half-eaten field ration stared hungrily up at the
ceiling of the tent. "And that heart is Toris
Military Base."
>From across the table, Dorothy saw Milliard nod,
look at Noin. Her stomach tightened and she
resisted the urge to excuse herself, to run out of
the meeting tent just to avoid the sight of them
together. Together! It made her sick.
I'm sorry, he had said. I believe our time
together is over.
She had stayed, decided to stay in spite of her
better judgment. She still wasn't sure if it had
been worth it.
Dorothy Catalonia was not a quitter, but there
were some games which she knew she could
never win, and this one was one of them.
"I'm sure Noin and Etille can tell us more about
that base," Milliard said, gesturing to Etille, who
sat across the table from him. "I'm not exactly
sure how involved you were with that installation
while you were on A007 as a colonist, but�" he
trailed off.
Etille took the cue and stood. His hair had gotten
longer, Dorothy realized, since his
imprisonment. He must not have bothered to cut
it since he had gotten back. Surprisingly, it made
him look more�human.
"I was stationed at Toris Military Base, actually,"
he began, pointing at the place where the red X
was on the light map. "When the World Nation
transferred me here, they basically told me to
keep an eye on the colony for them, to make
sure that no kind of trouble, such as rebellions or
otherwise, cropped up. They didn't want another
war on their hands."
"Did you?" Milliard said.
Etille snorted. "Like hell I did. The World Nation
didn't care what I did. They just wanted to get rid
of me. And I knew that as well as they did, so I
got here and decided to take matters into my
own hands. I'd settle for second-best on some
deserted colony, but it was going to be the best
fucking second-rate colony in the history of
second-rate colonies."
Pointing to where the capital city was on the
map. "They'd attempted to settle A007 before
the war, but efforts were abandoned when
Heero Yuy was assassinated. They'd pulled all
the miners and soldiers out, so all that was left
was a city the size of a small town, abandoned,
dusty, falling apart. My men and I changed all
that. By the time the first group of miners
arrived, we had transformed this place into a
working city. The World Nation sent over some
politicians, but it was the military who ran things.
The politicians were just figureheads, but it didn't
matter. The military knew what was best for
these miners. Most of the poor fellows had never
had so much as a roof over their heads for more
than a few days. We gave them all that and
more."
Noin frowned at the map. "So you were in
command of the military."
"I was deputy commander. There was a man
over me�he's dead now."
They waited in silence, but Etille offered no
further information, instead walking over to one
of the side tables, pulling out several sheets of a
material which reflected the dim light of the
glowlamps.
"What are those?"
"Pictures," he said, holding them up and letting
the light seep through. Dorothy blinked. They
were indeed pictures, color photos of buildings.
"What the hell?" She leaned forward, mouth
open.
He smiled. "These are called slides. I had them
taken a while back, took them with me when
Gustavson asked me to join him. Not much in
use anymore, back on Earth, but when you're in
a place like this, you use whatever you can,
even obsolete technology."
Milliard shot her a glance and she turned to look
at him. He looked away. Etille gave both of them
a sharp glance, but she ignored him, focusing on
the photo.
The building was ornate, in the style of one of
the smaller 18th-century chateaux in her native
France, but here the resemblance ended. The
wrought iron gates surrounding the building itself
were reinforced iron, and there were guard
towers located at regular points along the wall
just inside the gates. The mansion itself had
been modernized, with several wings quite
obviously added on after its construction.
"Toris," Etille said, without preamble. "This was
one of the old buildings left over from before the
war, and the new governor wanted a private
retreat where he could escape to when the
going got tough. So we remodeled this for him."
He nodded at Noin. "The part of the building in
which Noin and I were held captive was major
remodeling and add-on to the main building�a
military wing, with officers' quarters and a
hangar. I was the supervisor for that building
project. Quite obviously, when the rebellion
started, they had transformed the officers'
quarters into prison cells."
Noin sucked in her breath. "That explains why
they were such�nice cells." She winced. "That
sounds wrong."
Etille held up the next pictures. "The back of the
base. There are outlying yards and buildings
and other hangar areas that I didn't bother to
photograph. We'd originally intended the use of
the hangars to mining transports and police
vehicles only. When they got hold of the mobile
suits�" he trailed off.
"They had the resources right there for storage,"
Gustavson said in a soft voice.
"Exactly. I wish I could have foreseen that at the
time�but some things are just not possible."
"Not your fault," Gustavson said. "Is that all of
the pictures?"
Etille placed the two photographs on the table.
"Yes, sir." Pointing again at the map. "Toris
Military Base is surrounded by several
checkpoints. There are three main roads which
run to the base for supply transports, which
probably are used for mobile suit delivery as
well. I made sure myself that those three roads
are the only entrances and exist from the base."
"So what you're saying," Milliard said from the
other side of the table, "Is that we're going to
have to figure out a way to get into the base
through legal means."
Etille smiled. "Oh, we're going to have to figure
out to get into the base," he said, "but it's not
going to be legal."
Milliard looked tired. He had a right to be,
because he had just gotten out of bed for the
first time two days ago, and even before then
she had been pleading with him not to go on the
next engagement. But she'd known him for too
long to know that her please would do no good
whatsoever.
"You can stop talking about it, Noin," he said the
day before. "I'm going, and nothing you can say
will stop me."
She wished Dorothy would stop hanging around,
wished the other girl would go back to whatever
duties she had. Noin had given her a fair amount
of things to do, ensuring that Dorothy didn't feel
left out as the deputy commander. But she knew
Dorothy resented her still. Every look from the
golden-haired girl, every pointed word, every
gesture in her direction meant that she, Lucrezia
Noin , had done something unworthy of the heir
to the Dermail duchy.
Did you know?
Did you know that Dorothy Catalonia is in love
with Milliard Peacecraft?
He claimed that he had changed his name for
good, but he was still Zechs to her. Would
always be Zechs, because the Milliard she had
known during the war was a frightening one.
She didn't simply want the dashing, mysterious
young warrior or the broken, bitter prince of the
Cinq Kingdom. She wanted both of them.
That, to her, was who Zechs Merquise was.
She sighed, signed her name to the report that
was about to be sent out to the Preventers
headquarters on secure channels, made sure
that Milliard could read the closing lines.
We plan several sorties on strategic air and
ground bases in the vicinity of the capital. If we
fail, that will be the end of our presence here,
but I don't want to believe that we can fail. If
Etille is right, there is too much riding on our
success for us to turn back now. Keep us in your
prayers.
"You're eloquent," Milliard mused as she keyed
in the send button, watched as the document
encryption code rolled across the screen and the
words blinked at the top of the monitor.
DOCUMENT SENT. VERIFICATION CODE
RECEIVED
"And that's that," she said.
"I'm still going."
Noin sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you,"
she said. "It's your own decision. You're
commander."
Milliard laughed. "Funny. I don't feel like it."
"I don't want to be doing your job for you. I'd like
you to have it back."
"I suppose I could do that," he murmured, and
she shivered as his long fingers brushed the
back of her neck ever so slightly. "You should
get some sleep. Tonight's going to be a long
night for all of us."
The afternoon sun shone in through the tent
walls, the first sun she had seen in days. It was
high noon, and the landscape outside was
burning and barren. It was a wasteland here.
She had had enough. She wanted to go home.
"Zechs?" she said, suddenly feeling very alone.
He caught the tone of her voice, turning around
to look at her with gentle eyes. "What is it?"
"Do you think�you think we'll ever get to go
home?"
Her voice caught on a sob. The exhaustion from
the past few days flowed over her like a flood
and pushed herself up from the computer chair,
barely able to keep her knees from buckling.
"Noin?" he asked. She felt the touch of his hand
on her arm.
"I'm so tired�"
Strong arms wrapped around her and she
sobbed into his chest, feeling curiously
vulnerable and ashamed and safe all at the
same time.
"Don't be afraid, Noin," he whispered. "As long
as�as long as I'm here�"
"Milliard?"
She froze, pushing away from him, knowing
exactly who it was that had stepped into the tent.
She felt Dorothy's stunned gaze on her, then on
Milliard, then back on her, accusing, eyes with
the force of daggers. Jealousy sharp as thorns.
"I'm sorry," Dorothy said in a frosty voice, and
turned on her heel.
"Dorothy!" Milliard said. The flap closed behind
her with a final swishing sound. "Shit," he said,
releasing Noin gently, striding to the door and
pulling it open. "Dorothy!"
She watched him disappear outside and then
she was alone again with only the memory of his
words and the tears on her cheeks. She had not
cried in�when was the last time she had cried?
It had been too long ago.
"There's nothing to say," Dorothy informed him
over her shoulder, not even looking at him as
she stormed up the hill. He scrambled to follow
her, his haste making him clumsy. He was a
soldier, Milliard thought wearily to himself, not a
prince in disguise.
Well, maybe he was, but he didn't see why�
"Dorothy, stop. Look, can't we-"
"There's nothing to say!" To his relief, however,
she came to a sudden halt, hands on her hips,
long golden hair swaying below her waist. She
hadn't bound it up today. Her back was still
turned as he came up behind her. "I won't listen
to a word you say, Milliard Peacecraft."
"Dorothy, look. I know-"
"No you don't!" He was caught by surprise as
she whirled on him, angry gray eyes like a
summer storm. "How dare you put words in my
mouth?"
"Dorothy, I-" What the hell, he thought. Just say
it and be done with it. "Dorothy, I'm sorry."
"Liar," she said, but the fight had gone out of
her. In the slumped set of her shoulders, he saw
defeat.
"What's bothering you? If it's Noin and me�" he
trailed off. What could he possibly say to that?"
"There's nothing you can do about that," she
said, echoing his thoughts. "So just forget it.
Forget you ever knew me. Forget that we were
ever friends, because we're not anymore!"
There was nothing to say to that. "Fine," he said
flatly. "You said it. We're not friends anymore."
She didn't answer.
"Go get some sleep," he said. "That's an order,
Lady Catalonia. We'll be moving out at dusk."
He didn't wait for a response, didn't expect one
before he turned and moved slowly down the
hill. Wondering how it was that things had come
to this. He had valued her friendship�valued
her. She was vivacious, passionate, intelligent,
and a true soldier. In fact, if Noin hadn't�
He didn't want to think about that.
He reached his tent and sprawled out on the
sleeping bag, watching the sunlight and dust
patterns on the tent ceiling. He couldn't sleep. It
was the wrong time, his body clock said. There
were things to do, soldiers to brief, strategies to
plan.
Though if all went well tonight, it would be the
last strategy they ever needed to plan here, in
the field. If all went well, the A007 government
would never know what hit them before all their
mobile suit resources went up in a puff of
smoke.
If they could take control of the base.
He thought of Gustavson, and his firm belief in
the case.
He thought of Etille, the face of a soldier who
had seen too many engagements and yet still
pressed on because it was his duty.
He thought of Dorothy, her golden hair
swimming around her face, her eyes trying to tell
him something as he swayed under the hypnotic
pulse of her lips opening and closing without
sound.
He thought of Noin, her arms around him and
her unique scent and her voice, her raw
determination in the face of the enemy.
The last thing he saw before he drifted off to
sleep was the face of another golden-haired
girl�sweet and innocent, like an angel�or like
a princess�
"Zechs," the voice said. "Zechs, wake up."
His arm hurt again and he had a crick in his
neck from sleeping the wrong way. He groaned.
"Zechs." The hand shook him. "Come on. We're
getting ready. We're packing up some of the
camp�the mobile suits are getting warmed up."
He opened his eyes. It was dark, and Noin was
carrying a lamp that in his blurred vision looked
like shining water.
"It's time already?" Stretching. His injured arm
screamed at him, but he ignored it. "Feels like I
just fell asleep."
"In uniform too." She looked critically at him. "I
suppose that's normal. Your troops are waiting
for you."
The mobile suits had been moved closer, and he
slid into the seat, already feeling the welcome
touch of the instruments and the familiar light of
the panels. The suit was already alive and
humming, having been warmed up before his
arrival. He rather wished that he had been the
one to start it up, but he couldn't afford to be
picky at times like this.
"Bravo squadron, all systems go." Gustavson,
on the far side of the camp.
"Charlie squadron, all systems go." Etille.
Noin's face appeared on the screen. She was
smiling. "Delta squadron, all systems go."
"Echo squadron," said Dorothy. Her picture did
not appear on the screen. Milliard sighed. "All
systems go."
He wondered if she was still upset at him.
"All right," he said. "Alpha squadron, all systems
go. We're moving out. Stay close and tight. You
know where you're going. Follow your squad
leader."
The faces of the squadron leaders blinked off
the comm screen, and he headed into the cliffs,
power settings low to avoid radar detection. The
blips of the mobile suits behind him were
glaringly bright on his scope, and he wondered
how many they would lose tonight. Two? Eight?
Twenty?
Those soldiers would die here, far from home,
names and faces lost in the dirt of some far-out,
barren colony, not even remembered for what
they had done. For some reason, the thought of
that was strangely numbing, as if he knew
exactly which ones would die tonight.
"Alpha leader, target spotted."
"Roger that, Charlie leader." He flicked his
targeting scope on. If Charlie had spotted the
target from their area, that meant the base was
coming up close at hand.
"All communications, off," he ordered over the
comm. Grasping the stick too tightly. His hand
was sweating. "Follow my lead."
With a crackle, the comm went dead as he
flipped the switch. The bright infrared flared to
life over the viewport scope and he saw the
base come to life in lines and blobs of muddy
green light. The guns were silent. So far, so
good.
"Here goes nothing," he said, as he pulled to the
right and the mobile suit's thrusters came to life
in a roar, and he opened fire.
"Echo leader, this is Delta leader. Target
spotted."
"Roger that," Dorothy said, snapping a quick
readjustment to her targeting scope and running
one finger along the safety harness keeping her
firmly anchored in her chair. It was tight around
her breasts and she could feel it pulling
uncomfortably with every jolt. "Echo squadron,
communications off."
Switching her own comm off, she flicked the
infrared. Immediately the world around her lit up.
Clouds of smoky green light flashed in front of
her, behind the towering cliffs blocking most of
her vision. That must be Milliard and Gustavson.
Etille should still be on his way, if all went well.
Etille was the key to the strategy. Etille and
Noin�
"We're going in," she said to no one in particular.
The blips behind her shifted as she powered on
her thrusters. The walls of the base loomed in
her bright green vision and the first mobile suits
glided towards her.
"I'll show you what I'm made of, Noin," she
ground between her teeth. "You'll see!"
The explosions shook the air around the cliffside
but Noin kept her grasp firmly on the stick in her
hand, glancing at the scope now and then to
make sure that Milliard was still there.
It was selfish, she knew, but she figured it as her
duty. It didn't matter that she'd also glance now
and again to look if a second dot was there, the
dot labeled E1.
Why do you hate me so much?
Because you're you. And I don't like people like
that.
She and Etille were the plan, after Milliard,
Dorothy, and Gustavson had drawn the main
base force out from its cover. Surprisingly
enough, according to Etille, there might be large
numbers of mobile suits in the base hangars, but
there were actually very few personnel stationed
there who could operate a suit with any sort of
efficiency.
Bureaucrat personnel, he'd said, disdainfully.
Rather sit at a desk and do paperwork than fly.
Milliard seemed to be holding his own. The side
of the cliff was dark and chilly, and Noin found
herself shivering in her chair. Turning the heater
up a notch, she rubbed her arms.
They were all just children, really.
They were too young to die.
The blip that was Dorothy worked its way closer
and closer to the heart of the base, to the main
building. Towards Milliard.
Noin's hands clenched on the control stick.
"Now, Noin," Milliard muttered under his breath.
She should be watching the scopes, knowing
when most of the mobile suits had been
knocked away. Clearing a path. The guard
towers had been no match for an experienced
pilot like himself, and their small force had
outnumbered the base defenses, as Etille had
said.
They'd forced their way around to the main
building, as Etille had told them, he and Dorothy
forming a defense line to allow Gustavson's suits
to make it through, and it looked clear. Before
another squadron of reinforcements had come
through.
It didn't look so good anymore.
To his left something exploded, but he didn't turn
his head to see what, just kept shooting. Kept
firing. His arm began to throb again and he
switched fire control to the other hand, keying
the comm for emergency transmission.
"Alpha squadron, stats!"
"We've lost Three and Four, sir. And Five is at
60%."
He darted to the side, fired his thrusters,
narrowly missing the laser beam that came from
behind. The suit slammed into the ground and
he jerked the stick haid, trying to minimize the
shock. "Damn it, Noin," he whispered. "Where
are you?"
"They're here!"
Gustavson's curt voice over the comm, and
Dorothy looked to her left, around Milliard's suit,
to the line of mobile suits sweeping towards their
position. That was Etille. Where was Noin?
"Zechs! Look out!"
Milliard's craft sidestepped as the enemy suit
came in low to the ground, thrusters firing at
maximum output. As it hit the ground she saw
the other suit come out of nowhere, opening fire.
The enemy suit exploded.
"Zechs, watch your back!"
Noin.
"You watch yours!" Dorothy grated over the
comm, and was rewarded by Milliard's grim face
flickering onto her scope.
"That's enough, Dorothy."
"Shut up!" she screamed. "Don't tell me what to
do!"
"Dorothy-" Noin.
"Leave me alone!" The explosions rocked her
craft, and she jerked the stick wildly, letting her
mobile suit spin into the sky, spraying fire.
Screaming. "Leave me alone!"
"Mobile suit at ten o' clock."
"Got it," Noin said, spinning and clipping it twice,
once on the leg and once in the chest. It fell in a
shower of sparks.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, catching another one in the
arm. The gun dropped from its hand, smoking. A
laser blast grazed the arm of her suit and it
shuddered, readings dropping. She readjusted
the power output. "You take care of youself,
Zechs. I don't want to lose you again."
"I know," he said over the comm. Switching
frequencies. "Bravo Leader, code orange."
"Roger that," Gustavson said, and she saw his
suits break off their engagements, following him
to the other side of the base. The enemy suits
hesitated for a minute, and she saw them turn.
"Follow them!" Milliard barked.
"Roger. Delta squadron, we're going in."
"Echo squadron," she heard Dorothy repeat.
"We're going in. Watch your back!"
"We need more people over here! Can you
spare two?"
"Charlie leader to Echo leader," came the faint
reply. "Negative. We are all occupied over here."
Dorothy slammed her fist into the control panel.
"Damn! They keep coming!"
"Six o' clock, Echo leader!"
She flicked a glance at the scope just in time to
avoid the rapid fire coming from the Taurus
behind her. That had been Noin on the comm. "I
don't need your help," she said, opening fire.
"Suit yourself," Noin said, hurt evident in her
voice. That was fine with Dorothy. She didn't
need Noin's help. She didn't need Milliard's help,
either. She was all right.
She'd show them that she could handle things
on her own.
"Delta leader," Milliard said, "Do you need
reinforcements?"
"That would be much appreciated, Alpha
leader."
"Roger. On my way."
The other side of the base was even brighter.
Two outbuildings were on fire. There was
twisted metal wreckage on the ground, and the
lasers were thick here. He could hardly see.
Squeezing the trigger with one hand, he reached
over and flicked off the infrared. The moon was
bright, accenting the fire's glow. At this rate, the
fire would reach the mansion in no time.
"Bravo leader!" he said tersely over the comm.
"The building's going to catch fire!"
"I see it," came the response. "On it."
The suit came in from behind, and he barely
ducked before it roared by.
"Noin! Watch it!"
"Got it," she said, before the suit exploded in an
impressive fireball.
"Zechs," she began.
She heard it coming before she saw it, the
brilliant red suit highlighted by the fires leaping
into the sky, saw the comm screen flicker fuzzily.
He was young, the pilot, with blond hair cropped
close to his head, brilliant blue eyes. She caught
her breath. He looked like-
"My name is Lieutenant Commander Davi
Morgan." His voice was tight, angry. "Rebels,
you'll pay for what you've done!"
"Wait!" she heard Milliard yell, but the face
disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the
red suit disappeared behind the building to her
right. She backstepped, waiting.
"Dorothy! Look out! DOROTHY!"
She was turning too slowly. The mobile suit's
eyes seemed to be watching her, laughing.
Laughing because she was going to die. It was
in front of her.
"DOROTHY!" Noin screamed, and she slapped
the control panel, all power to rear thrusters,
leapt into the air, speeding towards the red
mobile suit which in the flames of the buildings
looked like it was made of fire itself.
"MOVE, DOROTHY! MOVE!"
Noin's mobile suit was moving too quickly, and
the red suit was on the wrong trajectory, and
there was going to be a collision.
He had to do something.
"No, Noin!" he yelled, trying to bring enough
power to the engines for a last, desperate heroic
act. Better he than her. Better-
He wouldn't make it. He needed Epyon, and this
was no Epyon.
"NOIN!" he cried. "NO!"
The only thing Dorothy saw before the explosion
blinded her was the red suit in her view and then
the other suit, crossing her path of vision,
throwing her to the ground. Her neck twisted and
she saw spots. Felt a searing pain.
There was a flash of light.
The explosion lit up the complex, scraps of
molten metal flying outwards, embedding
themselves in his windshield. It cracked.
"No," Milliard said. "No." He punched the comm.
"Delta leader. Come in, Delta leader. Come in.
Delta leader!"
The smoke was clearing, but he could see
nothing.
"Noin!" he called desperately, watching the
scope for something. Anything. A bit of light, to
know what she had made it.
"Noin?" Dorothy whispered. Staring up at the
sky.
The stars were still there.
The lump of twisted, half-melted metal smoking
in the small crater too far in front of him was
black in the light of the flames. It couldn't
be�she was alive. She had to be alive. She'd
be there any minute now, walking out from the
blast unhurt, waving at him, saying, it's all right
Zechs. I'm here. I'm still here.
"NOIN!" he screamed, letting go of the stick and
pounding the control panel with both fists,
hearing glass crack and the hissing of broken
electric wires, but he didn't care.
She couldn't be dead.
He wouldn't let her be dead.
"Alpha leader! Alpha leader!"
"FUCK YOU!" he screamed, jerking the stick
with the intensity of a madman, feeling his blood
boil, opening fire without aiming, just wanting to
kill. "FUCK YOU!"
The building behind him exploded in a shower of
flames, and he could see a mobile suit very
close behind him. Friend or enemy? It didn't
matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
"Let me die," he said. Calmly now. "I'm going to
die."
"Alpha leader! Pull out! Pull out now!"
"LET ME DIE!"
The light of the explosions blinded him, or
maybe it was tears, but he hadn't cried in so
long that he couldn't remember what it was like
anymore, but there was something coming at
him, coming out of the rolling billows of smoke,
before he released his thrusters and charged
headlong into the thick black cloud.
END SAINAN NO KEKKA ACT 6
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