22-Feb-2003
Title: The Knight (2/2)
Author: Hope of Dawn
Archive: GW Addiction at http://www.gwaddiction.com
Warnings--profanity and angst.
Summary & Warnings: The Gundam Wing story from an OZ-centric POV, focused around Lt. Otto. This story starts a year before the series begins and continues through to Operation Daybreak in episode nine.
Notes: Putting Tyr's board to the test, yet again! For legal stuffs and writer's notes, see part 1.
Many thanks go to Masamune for being a wonderful beta-reader, and Silke for helping with Otto's German. You guys are great!
Critical commentary desperately desired. Hit me with your best shot!
Two days later we arrived at Victoria base. We were met by Instructor Noin, unsurprisingly. I'd known that Noin and Zechs were old Academy pals, and everyone knew how attached she was to Zechs. Still, I was more than a little surprised at how ferociously she attached herself to Zechs' side--I'd seen barnacles less clingy.
She was a good instructor, though, and while the rumor mill always had fun with her little Zechs-obsession, it was also well known that she copped a lot less attitude than the usual run of aristocratic brat officers we had to deal with. She never treated the noncoms as personal servants, at least, and she enforced that same attitude with her students. Pretty radical thinking for an OZ instructor, really.
Thankfully, I didn't have to deal with the Instructor or any of the base higher-ups. With Zechs' blessing, I met with the reconstruction crews immediately upon arrival and began terrorizing the Alliance staff up to my standards. Most of them were decent engineers, but they'd been working with assembly-line Leos for so long that they'd gotten out of the habit of actually thinking about what they were doing. I certainly wasn't going to put up with that on a project as touchy as this one, and I made that abundantly clear as the Tallgeese was transferred into a secured hangar. My attitude ruffled more than a few feathers, but with any luck the good engineers would consider it a challenge to prove me wrong. As for the bad ones... well, I'd weed out the incompetents soon enough.
We managed to get the 'Geese unloaded a great deal faster than expected, due to the extra cranes and lifts available. I made an initial report to Zechs, letting him know what we had and how long reconstruction was expected to take; most of the crew succumbed to jetlag soon afterwards. Several hours later I'd fallen into a half-doze myself over some blueprints, cup of coffee in hand, when the first explosions shook the hangar. I jerked upright, lukewarm coffee sloshing over my fingers, heart pounding. There were shouts from the hangar crew as things rattled and fell and the walls reverberated with multiple blasts.
Gundam attack! I bolted out of the makeshift little cubicle, knocking over the chair in the process, and made a beeline towards the skinny Alliance officer manning the com. "Report!"
"Sir, we have reports of explosions all over the base! And--" He stopped and listened for a moment. "The officers' quarters, sir... the cadet dorms were completely destroyed! It looks like that was the focus of the attack!"
"What?!"
"I can confirm that, sir," Sikes said from behind me. I could smell him even before I turned, the acrid, smoky tang of a chemical fire clinging to his soot-smeared uniform. He gave me a somber salute, hair sticking up every which way. "Our quarters were one building over, but we were barely scratched. Some of us went in to help get the survivors out, but... " He looked at his hands, face grim. "They're dead, sir. All of them."
"And the officers? What about Lieutenant Zechs?" I paused, realizing how that might sound, and added, "The instructors?"
"The Lieutenant is all right, sir. In fact, the south hangar was barely scratched. All the damage seems to be confined to the dorms and a few surrounding buildings." Sikes managed to look relieved and baffled at the same time. I could sympathize; I felt the same way.
I scrubbed a hand through my hair. "Gott... Why would a Gundam go after the cadets?"
The Alliance corporal shook his head. "No Gundams sighted, sir, only a single infiltrator. Apparently Instructor Noin and a security squad are in pursuit."
A single terrorist--sent to bomb kids in their sleep. I didn't pretend to subscribe to OZ's theories of the inherent honor and nobility in waging war, but this... this was ruthlessness of a kind I'd never seen. Those kids had barely even been soldiers.
"Sir, we've been ordered to prep the Tauruses for evacuation," the corporal said, handset still clutched in one white-knuckled fist. "I'll tell them load up the Tallgeese first, so the assault carrier can clear the way for the rest of the transports."
"Negative!" I snapped, making Sikes jump. "We're not going anywhere without the Lieutenant's say-so."
The man paled beneath his freckles. "But, sir--we *have* to! We're sitting ducks in here!"
I turned on him. "Is there a problem with your hearing, Corporal? I said we're not budging!" Judging from this wild-eyed specimen, I was right not to trust the Alliance orders. If there was a Gundam out there, we were screwed whether we were in the air or not. And it when it came to Gundams, I'd count on Zechs' judgment over these overzealous assholes any day .
However, Corporal Nitwit seemed to be unable to comprehend this. He repeated stubbornly, "With all due respect, sir, I've been given a direct order. We have to evacuate, with or without your cooperation." He made as if to go around me.
I stepped in front of him again and hissed, "You listen to me, Corporal. If you want to be an idiot and move your own suits, you can go right ahead. But touch even one bolt on the Tallgeese, and I will guarantee that the Gundams will be the least of your worries." I unsnapped the top of my holster to drive the point home. Keeping one eye on him, I hollered, "Harcourt!"
An answering shout came from across the hangar. "Sir!"
"Don't move a damn thing unless I give you a direct order! Make sure this hangar is still secure! Organize a patrol for any more signs of sabotage, and if any Alliance personnel try to board the carrier, place them in custody! Got that?"
"Yes, sir!"
I transferred my glare back to Corporal Nitwit. "You have two choices, Corporal. You can help, or you can sit there with your thumb up your butt. Now move."
More Alliance personnel showed up at the hangar, most likely to help with the evacuation. That seemed to bolster his confidence. "You can't block an Alliance operation this way--I'll have you brought up on charges!" he blustered, fists clenched.
I snorted, amused. "Wouldn't be the first time." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sikes edging over and giving a significant look to some of our crew. A few more holsters were unsnapped, and they began moving our way. Wonderful.
This was turning into a perfect little Mexican standoff. Corporal Nitwit wasn't backing off, and he soon got reinforcements in the form of an Alliance lieutenant who tried pulling rank. It didn't work any better the second time around. The lieutenant ordered the Tauruses loaded anyway, and had them try to swing their carriers around ours, with predictable results. There just wasn't enough room for them to maneuver.
Things were starting to turn really ugly by the time Zechs sauntered in. He headed straight to where the lieutenant was shouting one frantic order after another.
"The enemy isn't headed this way. There's no need to panic." He had the lieutenant's instant attention, and he didn't even need to raise his voice.
"We will take care of any matters concerning this base. Get your carrier moved out from in front of cargo plane one," the lieutenant snapped, shooting me an evil glare.
Zechs gave me a quick glance, a one-sided little smirk sneaking out from under the mask. Then he put his officer face back on and turned his attention back to the lieutenant. "I don't care if you're following Lt. Noin's orders. The enemy isn't coming, so don't move the Taurus suits."
The lieutenant threw his hands up in frustration. "Never mind! Let cargo plane two take off first!" he shouted at the waiting crews, then rounded on Zechs. "Lt. Zechs, I could get you court-martialed."
Where had I heard that before? I sniggered quietly as I imagined Khushrenada's reaction to any such attempt.
Zechs' retort was swift and scathing. "I am much more in control than you are right now. If one makes a decision with a cool head, he won't find himself regretting that decision later on." I thought the lieutenant would have a stroke on the spot.
A few minutes later the Alliance crews still managed to get a carrier-load of Taurus suits in the air despite our interference. There was a muted cheer from the Alliance personnel as they watched the transport take off. For a moment it looked as if the plane would make it--and then the form of Gundam 05 reared out of the forest. The carrier veered in a desperate attempt to get out of range as Gundam 05 leveled an enormous rifle, but it was no use. The Gundam fired the laser--*our* laser--and cut the carrier in half.
"Th--the Taurus suits," the Alliance lieutenant stammered. No doubt he was imagining his career going down in flames, right along with those suits.
The Gundam discarded the cannon like a piece of junk and left, heading casually away on foot. It knew we had nothing left that could chase it. Under any other circumstances, I would have felt vindicated. Not now.
Not when the two pilots of that carrier were dead, along with their crew. Not with any number of Aries and Leos destroyed, their pilots dead. And not when the bodies of nine cadets were buried in the rubble of their own dorm, killed without ever knowing the reason why.
Just this once, I wished I had been wrong.
There were no further attacks on Victoria after the Gundam 05 incident, and once I'd verified that we could indeed reconstruct the Tallgeese, Zechs took off with Lt. Noin for parts unknown. Ostensibly they were off to prep for Operation Daybreak, though I had a sneaking suspicion Zechs was also trying to play decoy just in case the Gundams were targeting his assault carrier in particular. Personally, I doubted that they were, but the Gundams were no longer my main concern. Rebuilding the Tallgeese was.
That metal monster soon became both an addiction and a personal cross to bear. Even in pieces, the Tallgeese had been unwieldy and hard to work with, and as a single unit the thing was simply massive. It towered over the Leos we were using around it, and topped even a few of the cranes in height. Add to that the fact that we'd only managed to scavenge up about two-thirds of the 'Geese's original specs and test data, and you ended up with a jigsaw puzzle in the form of a Mobile Suit. The sheer amount of profanity I exercised on that uncooperative monster broke all records.
What can I say? I love a challenge.
Still, there was a frenzied pace to our work. We were all under the gun to make this work--literally. The Gundams seemed to have an uncanny ability to know just which OZ targets to hit. If they somehow got wind of our project, we could kiss our collective asses goodbye. It certainly didn't help the tension level any that we knew we wouldn't even see the damn things coming if they *did* attack. Zechs checked in as time allowed, and it was probably a good thing Khushrenada kept him busy. The man was a nag.
"Otto. How are things going? Is everything on schedule?" He sounded tired. I was less than sympathetic.
"Just peachy. I love making twenty-year old motherboards work with modern processors." I waggled scorched fingers at him. "Thanks a bunch."
"Look on the bright side, Otto." It was hard to tell, but I think he was smiling. "At least it keeps you out of the bars."
"That's a bright side?" I snapped back. "Don't do me any favors."
"I try not to," he replied, propping a chin against one hand. "Exactly how far along are you?"
I tapped a finger against the mangled mess of blueprints on my desk, considering. "Well... the main reconstruction of the Tallgeese's bodywork and armor is almost complete. We're doing a little exploratory surgery at the moment, making sure everything's connected the right way. With any luck, we can start preliminary testing in a week."
"That soon?" He leaned back from the com, looking over at something I couldn't see. "Hmm. With all the Gundam activity lately, doing a test flight is going to be tricky. We may not have the time to do it there at Victoria."
"So we'll bring it to Sanc and test it there," I remarked, feigning unconcern. Zechs nodded.
"That sounds good. Things will be chaotic enough that we can bring in the Tallgeese without being noticed." He grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. Probably yet another one of his cryptic and mostly random notes to himself. Alliance cryptographers have been known to go insane from trying to decipher Zechs' bizarre scrawl.
I nodded, pretending to agree. Let Zechs go up in an untested Tallgeese? Like hell.
After that I pushed the reconstruction crews as fast as I dared. Coffee and cigarettes became a substitute for sleep. Huddled conferences around hand-drawn schematics were almost the only human contact I had for over a month, and by the time we were done it felt as if I hadn't seen the sun in years. But we had a functional suit in front of us.
Our problem? We didn't know what it could *do*.
Time was running out. Zechs was prepping for Operation Daybreak, along with the rest of OZ. I had no doubts that it would succeed; Khushrenada could plot rings around the heads of the Alliance. For the moment, though, every resource OZ had to offer was being quietly co-opted for the attack--including test pilots.
Fate, I decided, is not only a fickle bitch, but has a warped sense of humor to boot. Sure, I'd wanted to pilot a MS again. However, the prospect of going up in a mothballed, untried prototype MS of unknown capabilities was not one guaranteed to thrill me. But the Tallgeese had to be tested, proven battle-ready, and I was the only one available with both the necessary piloting and mechanical skills. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't even be a consideration. But then, things hadn't been normal for some time.
So, less than a week before Operation Daybreak, we did our test run.
The morning was clear and cold, a low haze of fog clinging to the grass of the airfield as we prepped. I flexed my hands experimentally, stiff leather creaking around my fingers; my old flight gloves had a torn buckle, and these were new.
I looked over at Bubba. "Status?"
"You're good to go, sir." He shouted an all-clear to some remaining techs. "Test burns this morning were all within range, but we're still getting those odd power spikes. Are you sure--" He hesitated, biting off the question I could see written all over his face.
The truth? I wasn't sure. But time was ticking away, and there was only one path left for us.
"Let's do this." Grabbing the lift line, I glanced back over my shoulder. "You're going to be my eyes and ears on this run, Mr. Harcourt. Don't take your eyes off that data. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
The lift line whirred to a stop, and I kicked loose from the stirrup. Ducking under the open cockpit shield, I settled behind the controls and started my checks. The main computer was already online; taking it off standby, I watched the overlapping blast doors slide shut, sealing away the light. The muted rumble of the hydraulics vibrated through my hands via the unyielding control grips.
I opened a channel to the observation team. "Tallgeese to Control. Test flight one-niner-zero, commencing at 0600."
"Roger, Tallgeese. You are clear to proceed."
"Let's do this by the numbers. Starting basic combat maneuvering pattern alpha." I ran through the basic maneuvers methodically, warming up the joints and getting a feel for how the gyros compensated for movement. Easy stuff, but necessary. Even the rawest recruit knows that every MS handles differently, and the 'Geese was no different. A bit touchier about the controls, maybe, but we'd done the basic patterns several times during the rebuilding process and it responded readily, pivoting and slashing through beam saber patterns. Time to kick it up a notch.
"Control to Tallgeese. Going to aerial maneuvering pattern alpha." I throttled up the engines, listening to the building whine as they approached ignition. The secondary thrusters kicked in first, sending up plumes of dust as they fought against gravity's pull.
"Roger, Tallgeese. The field is clear."
Mentally crossing my fingers, I ignited the primary thrusters-
-and the world disappeared.
I found out later that the Tallgeese had accelerated like a bullet shot out of a gun, going from a measly 10 kph to something close to Mach 1 in seconds. Even strapped in and braced against the acceleration, I was thrown back against the seat so hard and fast that I don't even remember blacking out. I was out for just a few seconds, but that was more than long enough for everything to go fubar in a big hurry.
The next thing I remembered was dragging my way awake with a killer headache, supremely irritated at whoever was screaming in my ear.
"--up! Lieutenant, pull up!"
Military training is a wonderful thing. My hands were still on the controls and I obeyed automatically, wheezing against the crushing weight on my chest. Tallgeese responded instantly, throwing me sideways and back as it climbed into an impossible vertical ascent. Blackness narrowed my vision as I huffed for air and fought for control.
"Verficktes, scheiss teil!" I gasped as a harness buckle snapped apart, over-stressed metal twanging in protest as the other points took the strain. Bubba continued to shout, his voice fading in and out with the white noise of my earpiece. I craned my head, trying to get my bearings. Clouds and sky spiraled dizzyingly by on my screens in blurred smears of color, and the digital horizon was doing flip-flops. No help there. Trying to throttle back and level out produced no results. The 'Geese had the bit between her teeth, and responded with violent swerves that knocked me around the cockpit like a rag doll.
I'd seen the numbers on the Gundams' power curve--even crunched a few calculations on probable thrust-to-weight of my own. But numbers hadn't prepared me for *this*. Every small adjustment I made to compensate turned into insane dives as the Tallgeese threw those massive main engines behind every maneuver. Short of shutting down the main thrusters completely, I'd throttled back as much as I'd dared and still had both hands locked in a deathgrip over the controls as the we jinked madly across the sky.
With a sudden lurch, the 'Geese spiraled sideways at an angle I'd thought impossible to achieve in anything but a vacuum. Another harness buckle broke with a twang, and I slammed sideways into the blunted edge of the nav console. I felt something give inside my chest. For the first few seconds, it didn't hurt--and then torn nerve endings overrode the adrenaline and turned breathing into hellish agony.
I hawked and spat a gob of blood, wheezing. "-verdammte scheisse! Oh shit, tut das weh!" Talking hurt, but so did breathing, and there wasn't much I could do about that. I sucked in more air and squinted at my readouts. The horizon seemed to be staying level for the moment, and I seized my chance.
"Try THIS on for size, you insane piece of scrap!" I killed the main thrusters with a snarl, and let the Tallgeese fall.
"Tallgeese, report! Otto--what are you doing!?!" The sheer panic in the usually unflappable Bubba's voice made me laugh, hacking deep hysterical coughs full of the taste of my own blood. He must have thought I'd gone mad. Burst a blood vessel, maybe, and lost it in a rush of adrenaline. Grinning ferally, I jammed the directional thrusters full back, correcting for the spin.
Watching the ground rush toward me on the screens, I fought every instinct that told me to veer up out of this lethal dive. My hands shook as I tweaked the directionals, coaxing the 'Geese's headlong dive into a horizontal glide. "C'mon, c'mon, you fucking piece of shit," I crooned. "Work with me..." Once again the Tallgeese responded instantly, but this time without any of the lethal power of the main engines. I was still moving way too fucking fast, so close to the ground that I could see the scrub flashing by--but the 'Geese was nearly under control. "Ja, na also... es geht doch... "
It was easier to think now that I wasn't bouncing around like a rubber ball. I was no instinctive pilot like Marquise, which was a major liability in combat. But given a moment to think, I could usually figure out the solutions that my instincts couldn't give me. Keeping carefully away from the main throttle, I flipped open the panel protecting zero-G controls and activated the secondary thruster array. The tiny jets, meant to aid maneuvers in the vacuum of space, were just powerful enough to give me some kind of crude directional capability. It wasn't a perfect solution, but hopefully enough to get me and the 'Geese back down to the airfield in one piece.
Even without the main engines, the Tallgeese's speed was incredible. Whoever designed this suit must have been insane. There had been no consideration given to the poor schmuck of a pilot. I shook my head, and nearly lost my lunch as the world lurched sickeningly. Bad idea.
I triggered the jets. The cockpit shuddered, lurching occasionally as I coaxed the Tallgeese around with eggshell caution, my hands shaking. The jets did their job, giving little short bursts that nudged the MS into a decent altitude and making crude corrections whenever it tried to tumble into another dive. We were lurching around like a drunken bumblebee, dipping and swerving as we made our unsteady way back to the airfield, but the Tallgeese was under control... so far.
The Tallgeese didn't arrive back at the airfield at anywhere near the speed it had left, but it was still moving at least ten times faster than the average Aries approach. I had cut off everything but minimal thrust several miles out in attempt to dump some of my speed, but it soon become perfectly clear that the 'Geese was still moving too fast to even attempt a standard two-point landing. We'd end up tumbling head-over-heels, and even an MS as armored as this one wouldn't survive a crash like that intact.
I gritted my teeth and muttered, "C'mon, genius... think!" Emergency maneuvers, standard landing maneuvers... hell, I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold on long enough to make a second approach. Only one option seemed to even be a possibility. According to the books, it was a perfectly legitimate emergency landing. In reality, it was a maneuver that only an insane or desperate pilot would try. As I keyed in the landing coordinates and shut off all unnecessary fuel feedlines, I wondered which category I fell into.
"I can *not* believe I'm doing this!" I growled... then hit the lateral thrusters and flipped the Tallgeese over, sending it diving headfirst towards the airfield.
Unlike an Aries, the Tallgeese didn't have any wing extensions or flaps to get in the way, thankfully--this landing was going to be hairy enough as it was. I checked the shield, making sure it was locked into place on the left gauntlet. Collision alarms screamed as the ground scrolled past my screens in a greenish-brownish blur, and I fired the thrusters one last time, pulling up hard. Obediently, the 'Geese leveled out and rolled... and then we hit the ground.
My crash was quite spectacular, if I do say so myself. Tallgeese skidded across half the airfield on one shoulder and shield, tearing up the sod into a huge dustcloud as it fishtailed. I'm pretty sure we killed off quite a few trees in the process, but I was a bit too busy to notice at the time. My harness had already been compromised, and the crash flung me forward, ripping the rest free. I threw my arms up in a vain attempt to protect my head as the cockpit rattled and bounced around... then the MS came to an abrupt stop with one final shuddering crash and sent me hurtling into the forward screen.
I don't remember much after that.
According to the medical staff, I was, quote- 'One lucky sonuvabitch' -unquote. I didn't necessarily agree, but there's no point in arguing when the other side has needles and isn't afraid to use them.
After that summary verdict and a few mandatory pokes and prods, the doctors hustled off, leaving me to blink blearily at the ceiling. It took me a few minutes to figure out that someone was still in the room; Sikes apparently had been hovering around more or less the entire time I was out. I flopped my head over to the side, and tried to think of something witty to say. Nothing came to mind.
Sikes grinned. "You should see yourself, sir. I didn't know it was possible for skin to be that many colors at once." I rolled my eyes in response. If anything, his grin got wider. "Don't worry--the bandages set it off nicely."
I waved that aside as unimportant and croaked, "The Tallgeese?"
"Still intact, sir," he replied promptly. "The shield took the brunt of the crash, just like you planned. Sgt. Harcourt is working on the realignment of the shoulder joint, and we'll have to replace a few of the armor plates, but that was it. I'm amazed you managed to pull it off."
"Me too," I replied dryly. Damn but my head hurt. And my chest. And my--never mind. Clearing my throat, I tried to be authoritative in spite of the fact that I sounded like an asthmatic frog. "First things first. Get a reinforced harness in that cockpit. Requisition some gundanium if you have to, but get it done. We'll never be able to use that suit if we can't keep the pilot from becoming a damned ping-pong ball."
"Yes, sir."
"Second--we're going to have to tweak the main thrusters again. We'll do it en-route. Zechs should be able to handle the power of the Tallgeese better than I did, but we need to do something about those damned power surges." I wiggled my toes, unaccountably pleased by their immediate response. At least something still worked.
"Got it, sir."
"And third, find me a uniform. I want the Tallgeese loaded up and ready to go by--what day is anyway?"
"Tuesday, about 1630," Sikes replied automatically, checking his watch, then did a double take. "Sir?"
"Okay, I want the carrier loaded up and cleared to leave by 2000 hours. Help me up." Encouraged by my previous success at toe-wiggling, I grabbed a bedrail and tried to prop myself up on one elbow--then fell backwards as all the dull aches I'd been feeling flared into red hot spikes of pain. I lay there for a minute, trying to get my breathing under control. "Shit. Okay... that hurt."
"It should, Lieutenant. You managed to bang yourself up pretty good. In fact, you're scheduled to go into surgery soon." Sikes didn't quite hover, but he came damn close to it.
I grimaced. "It'll have to wait. Lt. Marquise needs the Tallgeese ASAP, and they're not going to push back Operation Daybreak just because I'm under the weather." Ripping the surgical tape away with a wince, I pulled the I.V. out of the back of my hand and held out to the other to Sikes. "C'mon. Help me out here."
"Sir, I... "
"Do I have to make it an order?" I gave him a level look.
With a gusty sigh, he caved. "No, sir."
Thankfully, it was a short hop from Victoria base to the Sanc staging area. Most of the trip was a blur; I wasn't in any shape to appreciate scenery between the painkillers and making sure the necessary repairs to the Tallgeese were handled. I spent most of the time squinting over circuit boards and simulation results, doing my best to avoid thinking about Zechs. Walker had been right; the Tallgeese was the most powerful suit I'd ever seen. It was also the most lethal. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but worry; Zechs' instincts for self-preservation weren't all that great even at the best of times. By the time we arrived, though, the 'Geese was spit-shined and polished, all ready to go. I'd done my part. The rest would be up to him.
I made it out to meet him on my own two feet... barely. Okay, two feet and Sikes's shoulder if you want to get picky. I could feel the sweat breaking out on my forehead as I tried not to give away how much of a mess I really was, and failed miserably.
"Otto! I'm glad to see you!" Zechs called out cheerfully as he came out to meet us--and then stopped as he realized something was wrong. Despite my best efforts the bruises and bandages were pretty obvious, and I caught a slightly appalled look on Lt. Noin's face. Hell. I knew that I looked like shit, but it's always nice to have a second opinion.
I offered up a shaky salute with one arm and gritted teeth. "Reporting for duty... "
"You need to rest, sir!" Did I mention Sikes's mother hen tendencies? I promised myself I would do something about that--just as soon as I felt up to it.
"What's the matter?" Zechs asked. I had to fight off the urge to crack a smart remark. Well sir, this little girl and her dog dropped a house on me...
Sikes decided he'd pick up the conversational slack, damn him. "Lt. Otto shouldn't even be standing! His ribs are broken and he has internal injuries!"
"He doesn't need to know that!" I hissed angrily at him. Before Sikes could open up his big mouth again, I turned to Marquise. "Lt. Zechs, This Tallgeese you've been waiting for is one vicious suit." I offered him a smirk and waved my hand towards the door. "Care to see for yourself?"
Zechs gave me one of his patented inscrutable stares; then strode towards the shuttle bay, Lt. Noin in tow. Bringing up the rear with Sikes, I watched as Zechs stopped dead in the middle of the bay, craning his neck as he looked up... and up, and up. "So this is TallGeese... "
"It hardly looks like a model abandoned in the middle of its development over twenty years ago," Noin said in awe.
"No. The revolution speed applied by the verniers allows it to reach more than three times that of the Aries." I hesitated, then grudgingly admitted, "--but we were unable to determine its maximum speed. I passed out during the trials."
"You were the test pilot?" Noin remarked, looking me over dubiously. OZ pilots--they're all the same. I would have bitten her head off, but I was having a hard enough time staying upright. Getting into a fight with the high-and-mighty Lt. Noin was a bit beyond my abilities at the moment.
So I ignored her, directing my comments to Marquise. "The Tallgeese can't be controlled by just anybody. You're probably the only one who can, Lieutenant."
He looked at me, then back up at the MS that towered over us. For the first time, he looked uncertain. "Aren't you overrating my skills?"
Like I overrated mine, you mean? Shoving that cynical little thought back down, I shook my head. "No, sir. I trust your abilities."
"All right, then--I'll use it immediately. And I'm sorry for all the trouble it caused you, Otto." He gave me another assessing look, and turned to Sikes. "Take him to the medical facilities."
"Yes, sir," Sikes replied, relieved, and immediately waved over the medics that had been waiting to pounce. Apparently it was payback time, because they had me on a stretcher and a needle stuck in my am before my woozy brain could even figure out what was up.
I glared at Sikes as they started to wheel me out. "Traitor."
The man looked vaguely apologetic, in that 'it's-for-your-own-good-sir' kind of way, but continued to aid and abet the enemy. Then the medics apparently decided that I deserved the really good drugs--there was another jab at the bend of my elbow. Sikes' sheepish face began to blur as they did their work, then faded away for good as I went under for the third time.
I woke up some time later. For a while, I just stared at the ceiling, thinking. The medics here in Sanc had the ones at Victoria base beat all hollow, I had to admit. Despite the fact that I'd probably just been in surgery, I didn't feel a thing. In fact, it felt like my whole body had been numbed and then packed in cotton. It was the strangest feeling: to know that things should be hurting, but be so disconnected from it that I didn't even care. Under the vague impression that it was somehow important, I tried wiggling my toes. I had no idea whether or not I succeeded.
Oddly enough, I was wide awake and aware. There was none of the drowsiness I usually associated with pain meds. Instead, my brain was humming merrily along, ticking along convoluted paths of thought and coming to strange conclusions. I wondered where everyone was. Tallgeese? With Zechs--no. Zechs and Noin. The thought irritated me.
Zechs and Noin and Sanc. The names made a nice rhythm. Sanc? Zechs and Tallgeese. Geese and Tallzechs. Thinking of the Tallgeese brought up a vague memory of pain. I rolled my eyes over, and found the bed next to mine full--but with someone else, not Zechs. Unaccountably relieved, I lazily slid my gaze back up to the ceiling.
Zechs and Tallgeese. Sanc. Invasion. I knew Zechs would win. He was the best. That's why I gave him the Tallgeese, after all. A new sound outside caught my interest--the drumming of footsteps rushing past the door to the ward. I idly counted how many: one, two, four... What was I counting again?
There were people hissing at each other outside. Saying something about "--irregular heartbeat and respiratory failure, get a full team out there now to Lt. Zechs move damn it move!" The words swam around, moving like slow currents through the murky jungle sludge in my brain. Lieutenant. Zechs. Move.
I moved.
Walking was tricky, I discovered, when you couldn't feel your toes. Or your feet. But at least now I could see them wiggling; my toes hadn't gone AWOL after all. They just needed more encouragement. One foot... down. Two feet... down. Three feet... I stumbled. That's right. I didn't have a third foot.
I looked around for clothes. Wouldn't do to meet one's CO in an assless dress. I found a uniform, though the buttons seemed unusually complicated. Probably wasn't mine. I've never had problems with mine. But pants were pants were pants. No time to be picky.
Luck was with me. No nurses yet to intercept my grand escape. I felt vaguely cheated as I stumbled out the back way, boots in hand. I know they were busy, but they could have at least *tried* to make it difficult for me. Sneaking around in sock feet brought memories of sneaking downstairs on Christmas, small feet on creaky oak stars, smelling coffee and pine and eager for presents.
Outside, the smell of pine was stronger. I took it as a sign I was on the right track, and shoved feet--my feet, not someone else's--into the boots. The boots were scuffed. Zechs wouldn't like that. Preppy bastard. Where was I going again?
Zechs. Right. Zechs. Where was Zechs, anyway? In Sanc, my brain replied. Where was I? In Sanc, my brain said again. I told my brain to fuck off if it wasn't going to be helpful.
Follow the people, my brain offered. That made sense. Zechs didn't go anywhere without an entourage, after all. Without me.
I followed the people. They seemed to change direction a lot, and I walked in circles for a while, getting frustrated. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going; why didn't I? Then I saw a familiar face as Walker strolled past, hands in pockets. Good old Walker. He'd know where Zechs was. He *always* knew where Zechs was.
I hurried to catch up, grinning. "I missed you, kid," I told him. He gave me a weird look.
Right. Mustn't ruffle officerly dignity. Not in front of Zechs. I shut up and wandered in Walker's wake. Damn but the kid moved fast. I frowned down at my uncooperative feet as they stumbled along, then stopped short as we hit a tent. Walker strolled inside without waiting for an invitation; outside, I grabbed a post to keep the ground from swaying and peeked.
Lt. Zechs. With bandages. And an oxygen mask over his face.
Zechs was hurt?
I froze. This was a Zechs I didn't know. My Zechs was arrogant, dignified--invincible. My brain stuttered as it tried to reconcile the two Zechs's. Zechses? Zechsi? Hell, I couldn't even tell if he was conscious. Something in me snarled in anger. It knew what was to blame.
Hurt-Zechs pulled the mask away from his face, grimacing a little. Waving the doctor away, he started rambling to someone... to Noin. Of course. "I really underestimated the TallGeese; it completely ignores the pilot's safety."
The Tallgeese.
"It takes into consideration all types of battle patterns and makes it possible for the one suit to achieve victory on its own. That's what I think, at least." He gave a self-deprecating little grimace. "But I've become such a coward. The more I tried to push the suit's limits, the more I started doubting my own abilities." He continued on, babbling about fear and battles and such, and any lingering doubts I had vanished. This was the real Zechs. No one else loved the sound of their own voice quite like he did.
"--Rather than a suit for battle, it's a suit for dueling. It takes a brave pilot to bring out its true potential."
"A brave pilot?" Ever faithful Noin-parrot, right on cue. I wondered what my cue was. I had the nagging feeling I'd missed it.
"Brave enough to risk death for victory." His mouth twisted. "And apparently I still have a long way to go to conquer my own fears." That sounded like a cue. But whose?
"--anyway, I've got to get back to the Sanc Kingdom!" Even though it wasn't the cue I'd been waiting for, something about those words snapped me to attention. After over a year under his command, I had seen Zechs in almost every possible situation. I had seen him angry, giddy, tired, even drunk... had listened to him ramble, rant and philosophize. But I had never heard him sound so... desperate.
My brain grabbed the statement, turning it over and over. It offered up a conclusion. Sanc is important.
But--Zechs was injured. Tallgeese had scrambled him sunny side up. He wasn't going anywhere.
Sanc is important, my brain insisted.
I tried to dismiss my growing sense of unease. Even if Zechs was desperate enough to try, Noin wouldn't let him leave. She was yelling at him, after all. She knew it was a stupid idea.
My brain still wasn't having any. Sanc is important. Then it added the coup de grace. Zechs will die for Sanc.
I hate it when my brain is right.
Noin-parrot was still busy arguing with Zechs. I could have told her it was no use. She was up against the fastest mouth in the west. "Fine, but not on the Tallgeese."
"I told you, I think the Gundams are based off of the Tallgeese's design. That's why it's crucial for me to pilot the Tallgeese; I need it to defeat the Gundams!"
Sanc is important.
Zechs will pilot the Tallgeese, and...
I'd told Zechs to beat the Gundams. I never realized he'd take it this far.
I pushed away from the tent, one arm wrapped around my ribs. Whatever they'd given me earlier was starting to wear off, and I could feel the edges of pain.
"The Tallgeese... is for suicide missions." Zechs will die for Sanc. I tested the words out loud, weighing their importance. "The Gundams are so effective because... " I told Zechs to beat the Gundams--for Walker. No, for me. "...they're always searching for a place to die." That's what Zechs said. Something about that seemed slightly off, but I couldn't figure out what.
My fault--
In a weird little jump of time, I found myself standing in front of the Tallgeese; apparently the rest of me had come to a decision without informing my brain. I looked up at it, eyes automatically picking out the marks of laser fire.
"I have a bone to pick with you," I told it. "I'm a mechanic, not a mortician. I don't work on suits that try to kill their pilots."
The Tallgeese seemed unimpressed by my accusation. I leaned against one giant metal foot and looked up, watching patterned shadows move across the helmeted headpiece. The clammy chill of the metal was pleasant against my back, and steadied me a bit.
--my responsibility.
"I suppose you're right." I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the armor plate for a minute. "It's not your fault we can't measure up to your standards." It takes a brave pilot...
Walker had been that brave. Hell, he'd given his life for OZ.
Could I do any less for Zechs?
Time to find out. I pushed away from my resting spot and grabbed for the lift-line. A sharp spike of pain along my ribs made me gasp; the drugs were definitely wearing off. I ground my back teeth and ignored it. It took three tries to fit my foot into the stirrup, and the surrounding forest spun dizzyingly by as the lift-line hauled me upwards with a barely audible hum. I doubted the guards would hear, but it wouldn't matter if they did. I'd be inside the Tallgeese before they could stop me.
No guards came. Somebody was going to be in trouble after this little escapade, that's for sure... maybe even me. Par for the course, really. I keyed open the hatch with icy fingers and stepped off the line. For a moment, I just stood there on the platform, feeling the wind dry the sweat on my face, listening to the distant noises of the camp. My doubts faded away. This felt... like the right thing to do.
Morituri te... I saluted Zechs' tent somberly, parade correct, shoulders straight. Then turned away.
I clambered clumsily inside, barking a shin against the edge of the hatch and falling into the seat. A lingering scent hung in the cockpit, the sharp tang of sweat and fear added to Tallgeese's own slightly musty metal smell. I strapped in with cold and shaking hands, tightening the buckles until they hurt. Stabbing a finger at the switch, I watched the overlapping layers of armor slide shut, sealing me inside the Tallgeese one more time.
The dark confines of the cockpit seemed to close in on me, screens blank and ominous. My mouth was dry as I began the startup sequence, trying not to think as my hands fell into a familiar unthinking rhythm. Main computer, backup computer, sensor arrays, vernier warmups... The boards lit up in a cascade of red-yellow-green lights. Everything ready. Everything go.
Tallgeese thrummed under my hands, and the viewscreens came up, relaying light and sound into the darkness. I toggled over to the headcams. The building whine of the engines must have finally alerted the sentries; the nearest tents looked like overturned anthills, soldiers running frantically towards the Tallgeese. "Too little, too late," I muttered, amused... then ignited the thrusters and threw us into the sky.
This time I knew what to expect--or so I thought. We gained altitude at an incredible speed, the cockpit rattling as as those massive engines piled on the thrust. I didn't lose consciousness, but I almost wished I had. Sweat stung my eyes as I gasped for air, my ribs creaking and popping with each breath. I pried one hand off of the controls long enough to bring up tactical and lock in the coordinates for the Alliance headquarters. The cold knot in my gut said that we had no time for fancy maneuvers--there was no way I'd last through a dogfight. We'd just have to bull our way through. Teeth clenched, I pushed the throttle forward, increasing speed. We were going straight in, and heaven help anyone who was in our way.
The com buzzed insistently, barely heard over the roaring in my ears. I ignored it, focusing grimly on the forward screens; I didn't feel like getting yelled at just now. Then the com bleeped the two-tone note of a command override, opening a channel, and suddenly I was looking at Zechs' angry face.
"What are you doing?! Otto--return immediately!"
Yup, he was pissed. Good. The blame would be on my shoulders, where it belonged. I tried to muster up my usual smirk. "Don't worry--with the Tallgeese, I'll be able to take over the Sanc Kingdom headquarters." Another red stab of pain ripped across ribs; I hissed between my teeth, my smirk turning into more of a grimace. "I should know, sir; I know what the Tallgeese can do!"
If anything, Zechs seemed to get angrier, leaning closer to the screen.
"Stop it! You'll die!"
Hearing that desperate note in his voice again, I tried to reassure him. "Ze--" I cut myself off, seeing other officers in the background. "Lieutenant--it's my honor to sacrifice my life for you. This is your dream... " The pounding in my temples was making it hard to think. The screen was fading in and out... interference, maybe. I shook my head, focusing in on Zechs' face desperately, trying to make him understand. "I'm doing this for you, Lt. Zechs. Not for OZ!"
"Otto..."
Didn't he realize I didn't have time to argue? I'd already committed myself; there was no turning back now. Don't worry, Zechs. This won't be for nothing. "I'll give you your victory, even at the cost of my life!" I told him, trying to sound confident. Never let them see you sweat.
"Otto! You're not making sense!"
"Damn it--" I slammed a fist down on the disconnect. If Zechs wanted to argue, he could damn well do it at my court-martial. Assuming I got one. I hung my head, squeezing my eyes shut as precious minutes ticked by. He of all people should have understood. The fact that he didn't made me angry.
Hunched over the controls, I almost missed the first warnings from the tactical net. Aries, multiple craft, directly in my path; my eyes were blurring enough that I couldn't pick out insignia. At that moment I no longer cared who they belonged to--they were in my way.
I was gracious; I gave them a few seconds warning. "... verdammte arschloecher... don't get in my way, dammit! I don't know how long I can hold out-" My voice cracked embarrassingly on a cough. Bright spatters of blood flecked my hands and the forward screen as I hacked, a slow trickle sliding down my chin. --don't have time to waste with you! I fired a few wild shots from the 'Geese's dobergun, trying to get them to scatter. Then we were flashing by, cutting through them like a falcon through pigeons. A few of the Aries tried to give chase, but there was no contest, and for just a moment I was suddenly, absurdly proud of this vicious beast I had helped resurrect.
More alarms shrilled--we were being targeted, this time from the ground. Sanc was rolling in, looming larger on the screens by the second. My hands were numb, clenched white over the controls. Just... a little... longer... I couldn't seem to catch my breath. Tactical had found the Alliance base and locked on. This was no game of chicken, and they knew it. Explosion after explosion whited out the screens as the Alliance tore open the sky with missiles, laser fire, chucking everything they had at us. I returned fire blindly--at this range, I couldn't help but hit something.
Fuses sparked as sensors fried and went offline, smoke hazing the air. I couldn't see anymore, but I could feel it: the first volley missed completely, the second rattling armor plating as they got the 'Geese's range and pounded away. Another direct hit sent me reeling against the harness. Against the blood pounding in my ears, my own raggedy breaths suddenly seemed eerily loud, the controls bucking against my hands as the 'Geese took hit after hit.
But the armor held. Our course was set. And even blind as I was, nothing they did could even slow us down. I sucked in a breath, my chest a continuous screaming ache. Lips peeling back against teeth in a vicious, victorious grin, I let out a defiant yell as I slammed the throttle past redline.
"Zechs! Banzai!!"
It takes a brave man--
--and then the Tallgeese hit with the screaming of torn metal and and exploding fire.
The End
(:./hope/knight2)
