18-Oct-2004
Title: Tetractys: Chesed, II
Author: Sol 1056
Rating: R for violence and language, some adult situations
Pairings (currently): 1+R, 1+2+3, 2x3x2, 4x5xM
Disclaimer: no, don't own 'em... duh.
Archived: sweetlysour and gwaddiction
Critiques: always welcome, natch!
Trowa rubbed his eyes, and waited for Deathscythe Hell. Twenty-seven hours of flying, and it felt like the ground under his feet was vibrating; his hands shook.
The sand blew up, swirling in dark gold, and Trowa covered his nose and mouth with his arm. The verniers screamed, and Deathscythe Hell lowered itself backwards to lie next to Broadarms.
Duo popped out of the cockpit, and waved before leaping down to stand before Trowa. He punched in the codes for the stealth emissions, in a wider beam to cover more than just his Gundam, then turned around. He opened his mouth, frowned, and looked past Trowa, then at Trowa.
"Where's Hil?"
"Sent her south, to run bombing missions. Told her we'd rendezvous in Kaduna." Trowa coughed, and leaned against Broadarms.
"Trowa, man, you look beat... wait, you told her what?" Duo shook his head, and grabbed Trowa, shoving his shoulder under Trowa's arm. "Where's our support?"
"Back a half-mile," Trowa replied, stumbling. "Sorry. Haven't slept."
"Kaduna... that's... " Duo screwed up his face, thinking. "Three thousand miles south-east of here? Haven't you heard the news?"
"About Mariemaia? Or Une? Or Sanq? Or Admiral Dinh?" Trowa shrugged, and moved forward on leaden legs. "Yeah. Been tracking it. Saw news of your attacks."
"Yeah!" Duo laughed. "It went great. No one was waiting for me," Duo told him, bringing them around the end of Broadarms and beginning the trek along a dirt road towards the encampment, nestled fifty miles east of the small town of Taoudenni. "This way?"
"Yeah." Trowa closed his eyes against the last rays of the setting sun. "If Hil's a plant, she's not aware of it."
"You tell her where I was going?" Duo moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Trowa's waist. The extra support was more than welcome, and Trowa sagged into the embrace.
"Yeah. But if you didn't get resistance... "
"Not a peep. Slammed all the way along the coast, 'cept what someone else got ahead of me." Duo shrugged. "Guess one of th'other teams managed to get farther than we expected."
Trowa nodded, and the rest of the journey was in silence. Reaching the small tent village, the resistance leader came out to greet them. Of a nomadic village of thirty people, everyone was related, and all considered themselves resistance.
The two pilots were given a tent to themselves, and Duo lowered Trowa onto the camelhair rugs. Trowa groaned, curling up on his side, his eyes sliding shut. There was movement nearby and a soft voice at the door, but Trowa didn't care. Duo was here, and he'd take care of it. Trowa relaxed, passing out almost immediately.
"Hey, hey, you have to eat something," Duo whispered in his ear, a few minutes later.
"Go away," Trowa growled. He swatted blindly in the direction of Duo's voice.
"Not until you eat," Duo said. "And then you sleep, and I'll head back out and see if I can send a message to Hilde."
"I know she's a traitor... somehow. No transmitter on the Gundam, though," Trowa muttered. Something pried his mouth open, and he scowled, but accepted the bite of food, chewing and swallowing. "I couldn't stop long enough... we were dodging Foundation forces, and she was hollering at me the whole way to know why we weren't bombing and where--" Another bit of food was shoved into Trowa's mouth, and he choked, then managed to swallow. "Kept asking where you were, and why... "
"Shut up and eat," Duo ordered. He shoved another bite of spicy lamb into Trowa's mouth, and tapped Trowa on the nose. "You can tell me this once you've rested."
"Not hungry," Trowa protested, but more for show. The tent was dark, but for one electric lamp by the plate of food. Duo's shape above him was dark, but his braid hung down across Trowa's chest. Trowa grabbed a hold of it, and tugged. "You eat, too."
"I ate in Fderik, when I refueled," Duo replied. "Hey. Did you even stop to eat, or rest?"
"Only to refuel and then we--" Trowa said, only to find more food shoveled into his mouth. "Duo, stop that, I can eat on my own."
"You can't even sit up."
Trowa thought about arguing, and decided against it. Holding onto Duo's braid with one hand, and the rugs with the other, he curled up against Duo's warmth, and begrudgingly accepted the bites of food offered. When finally no more food met his lips, and Duo said nothing, Trowa faded into sleep.
Lena sat back, her hands clasped against her lips. She studied the map, and mentally reviewed the preliminary reports provided by the Parliament's representatives. Sanq's five states had ten major Foundation bases or ports, mostly for the military presence, but three of the ports could stage major support if needed. The Gundams had not hit any of Sanq in their mission, so the various bases were intact - and so were their mobile suits and ammunitions.
Palermo, Naples, Turin, San Marino, Ljubljana, Sarajevo, Thessaloniki, Patra, and Tirana, Sanq's capital city... Lena held up a hand. The ten men and women arguing quietly at the other end of the table noticed the gesture, and fell silent, waiting for her to speak.
"What members of the Parliament have military experience?" Her gaze was cool. She'd lost her temper in the Parliament, a rare thing, but it hadn't come back to bite her in the ass. She didn't plan on doing it again, however. That one time was enough of a risk.
"Ah... " The Lord Chamberlain blinked, and pulled out a list of the members of the House. "Maybe ten or eleven. Two colonels, a general, and several who reached Major and transferred into the reserves."
"Good enough." Lena sighed, thinking of Quatre and Doro. She could use their knowledge at this point. She had no problem riling up the people, rousing them to fight, but she'd never sat down and created the overall strategy on her own. She'd always had someone at her side. Lena took a deep breath, and tried to imagine what Doro would do. She glanced at Cecil, still waiting with the list in his hand. "Get them here."
"I'm here already," one woman said, while one of the aides scurried from the room, notes in his hand to contact the rest. The woman who had spoken had gray hair, cropped close, and carried herself with a quietly stern bearing. "Nancy, Lady Barcel, of Patra. I was a colonel in the Alliance."
Lena nodded. "I put that base in your command, then. Your orders are to contact the resistance leader in Patra. The Lord Chamberlain has my list of rebel forces. Expect that you will be meeting the city's rebel leader on your own, without backup. When he or she has confirmed that you are trustworthy... " Lena raised an eyebrow when the woman didn't flinch. Good, she thought, and continued her orders without pause. "Work with your contact to determine the number of loyal forces. As soon as you are ready - dawn, if possible - inform the Foundation's forces that if they join us, they will be allowed to live."
"And if they don't?" Lady Barcel frowned. "Join... by squadron? Or based on commanding officer--"
"Person by person," Lena replied. "Those who wish to stay and consider themselves citizens of Sanq, are welcome to join our ranks. Those who do not may leave. Give them... six hours to clear out. They take no weaponry. Only personal belongings, as much as they can carry."
"It'll be chaos, Princess," Cecil warned.
"Then I leave it in Lady Barcel's capable hands to make sure it is a controlled chaos," Lena replied. She waved Barcel away, a dismissal. "Leave now. We have limited time."
"Yes, your highness," Lady Barcel said, and gave Lena a smooth bow before departing. Cecil followed, murmuring information about the contacts in Patra.
"Now," Lena stated to the remaining members of the group. "We need to find people knowledgeable of military protocol and the regions for each of the rest of the bases. Any more volunteers?"
Heero ran through the check, relieved the Gundams were safe, and yawned. Cat's face flashed onto his side screen, and gave him a weary smile.
"At least it was a beautiful day for a drive," she said, and rubbed the back of her neck. The local was wearing off, and he knew she had to be in some pain. She sighed and dropped her hand, starting up Heavyarms.
He grunted, and powered up his engines. "Let's clear out."
"See you in Sanq," she replied, and Heavyarms lifted into the air, shifting into bird-mode. The jets flared in Heero's screens, and a few seconds later the slam of Heavyarms kicking into Mach Two made Wing shudder.
He sighed, and lifted up, hitting the switch for Temurah. A minute later, he was heading down the Saone, following the curve of the city lights hugging the river. Two hours later, he angled east, aiming for Sanq.
It was midnight when he arrived in Sanq's old capital city, and he opened the channels to determine safe landing locations. He was amazed, and pleased, to find Sanq was broadcasting the landing coordinates for - as the recording called it - 'welcome Gundams'.
He brought down the landing gear, enjoying the sensation of bringing down the Gundam in bird-mode; tarmac rumbled under the landing wheels as he taxied to a stop at the end of the runway. Following directions, he brought Wing around and into the hangar at the end of the shuttle port.
Two Sanq reservists were waiting, AK-47s slung over their shoulders. They were wearing purple bands around their upper arms, indicating their loyalty to their returned princess. They had no news of Cat, but another Gundam was on the horizon, arriving from the north, expected to reach the shuttle port in five minutes.
Heero nodded to their greetings, waved away the mechanics ready to descend, and requested only that they refuel. He locked the cockpit, punched in the security code to prevent tampering, and accepted the jeep ride into the city's heart.
It was a dark city, he noticed, but alive; the area was under informal blackout, with curtains pulled tightly and streetlamps dimmed. In an age of satellite location systems, he knew the lights made no difference, but his aged driver informed him in broken Standard that the people were doing it to show their support for the princess' call to independence.
The jeep pulled up in front of a large mansion that looked more like a military barrack than a home. There were guards on the four corners of the roof, and more traipsing around the perimeter. The jeep's driver spoke with the guard, and Heero was ushered onto the premises.
A young man met him at the front door, AK-47 slung over his shoulder. "The Princess Relena is in session with her advisors," the man said. "I... Uh, I think Warrant Officer Ramazan knows where everyone is staying." He motioned Heero inside, and left Heero for a moment while he found the other officer. A minute later, he returned to the darkened foyer with a woman in tow, dressed in simple clothes but with another purple band around her arm.
"Heero Yuy," the woman said, blinking a few times before recovering. "Yes. Lord Chamberlain said you should be placed in the rooms around the Princess; she's in a center room."
"No exterior windows in her room?" Heero followed the woman up the broad stairs, and tried to stifle a yawn.
"None. It was actually a server room, when this building was administrative." She smiled over her shoulder, and opened a door, flipping on a low light. "We managed to find pajamas, so if you leave your clothes outside the door, the staff will wash them tonight and have them back in the morning. Good night, Mr. Yuy."
"Good night," Heero said, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied the plain interior, surprised at the austere, modern bedspread, the beige carpet, and dull green drapes. After the excessive baroque decoration he'd glimpsed in the foyer and the long hallway, he'd half-expected more décor similar to the kind Khushrenada had favored. Smirking at the memories, he took six long steps and collapsed facedown on the bed.
After several moments, he roused himself long enough to strip. He dropped his gun and a spare magazine on the bed, and bundled his clothes, socks, and underwear into his arms. Too exhausted to bother looking for the loaned pajamas, he opened the door, dropped his clothes in the hallway, uncaring of his nudity. He closed the door, locked it, and fell back on the bed.
Heero spared a moment to consider whether anyone would be entering the room while he slept. Instinctively he reached for his gun, lying on the bedspread next to him, and told himself he didn't have to be wearing clothes to shoot an intruder. The pajamas could wait. He wanted sleep more.
Wufei stretched out on the floor behind the pilot's seats, his eyes open but his expression weary. Meiran sighed, glancing at him, then at Quatre, who stared at the read-outs from the shuttle.
"Leaving earth's atmosphere in ten minutes," she said. "Wufei, brace yourself."
"Braced," came the dull voice from behind her.
"I don't like this," Meiran muttered, flipping switches to kick the shuttle through the last of earth's pull. "Firing rear jets now."
"Check," Quatre replied. "Lowering boosters, transferring power."
Meiran continued the preparations, counting down under her breath. The shuttle they'd stolen was barely big enough for all three Gundams, and it hadn't been full on fuel, either. The closest colony was L1; that's where they'd agreed to aim, rather than end up adrift and nowhere near L4.
"Firing sequence beginning, now," Meiran said, and was jolted backwards in her seat when the last of the jet fuel flared behind them. The shuttle jumped forward, pushing through and past the atmosphere. She kept a steady hand on the controls, her eyes on the degree mark for the shuttle's nose.
"Clear," Quatre said, after two minutes. "Shut-down begun."
"Angle at thirty-two-point-seven. Shutting down auxiliary," Meiran confirmed. "We're coasting."
"Are we done?" Wufei groaned, and sat up, a hand to the back of his head. He pushed himself upright, and yelped when he nearly flew up to the top of the cockpit. Quatre caught his wrist, and pulled him back down. "I fucking hate zero-grav," Wufei growled, latching onto the back of Quatre's chair.
Meiran smirked, but didn't have the energy to do more. She shifted in the seat, and began running checks on all open signals. The frequencies were jumbled until the system could pick out the strongest lines, and she opened windows across the bottom of the screen. The first seven showed stills of Sanq's capital city, and announcers. Two of the windows were in Standard, and Meiran turned up the vocals on the first.
The three pilots listened, and Quatre's eyes grew large. He shook his head, amazed.
"We'll have to contact her, to let her know our plans," he said, scowling at the realization they were heading away, when they would've headed for Sanq, had they any idea of the most recent developments. The announcer's comments caught him off-guard, and he sat up straight, startled. "Wait a minute... Lena's royalty?"
Meiran nodded absently. "Yeah. Only daughter of the King and Queen of Sanq. She found out from her adoptive father just before he died. In the One-Year War, when Relena was captured, there was a move in Oz to make her the monarchial head of the Earth Sphere Union. We got her out before that happened, though."
"I thought the ESU is a socialist democracy," Wufei interjected.
"It is. Mostly socialist, not a lot of democracy, now," Meiran explained. "But I think the leaders of Oz thought having a figurehead of Lena's rank would add legitimacy. The Peacecraft line is related to just about every major royal family in Europe, after all."
"They're all inbred," Quatre snorted.
"Lena would be the first to say that," Meiran replied.
Lena tried to keep from wriggling in the gown, ready to start ripping at the seams if she didn't get out of the dress in the next two minutes. The last of her advisors had accompanied her from the ground-floor meeting room into the grand parlor of the mansion.
"Princess," one of the men said. Lena couldn't remember his name, and she suppressed a sigh, nodding for him to speak. He cleared his throat. "We need to discuss the question of your coronation."
"My... " She blinked, and shook her head. "Now? The security alone would be ridiculous. And if there would be any time for the Foundation to strike, it'd be when people are glued to their televisions--"
"You underestimate the importance of that crown," another said, stepping forward. "The people have waited twenty-six years for their sovereign to return. You can't let them down now."
"A coronation," Lena repeated, helplessly. "Do you people not get it? I murdered four men yesterday. I've been fighting for ten years. The people may accept me as a princess, but I doubt they'll want me as a Queen."
"You won't know until--" One of the men started to say.
"And then what? I find out afterwards my people aren't too keen on a bloodstained warrior? Right now, it's all romance to them," Lena said, too tired to think straight. She wondered where Talon was, and whether anyone would notice if she snuck out to visit the Gundam. There were some repairs Talon needed, and the mechanical work might calm her down. "No," she said. "Right now we need to focus on what lies ahead. When we're done, and we're independent, then we can talk about big parties and crowns and shit like that."
Several of the men flinched, and Lena rolled her eyes.
"It's not... crap," the first man said, hesitantly. "This is important to your people."
"I know," Lena sighed. "But what's important to me is making sure my people aren't annihilated. That comes first. Romance can come second."
"Speaking of romance," Cecil interrupted, a sly look on his face, "Heero Yuy arrived two hours ago. We put him in the room next to you. Cat Bloom is on the other side, and we've gotten word two more pilots should be here in the next hour or so."
"Good." Lena pinched the bridge of her nose, and glanced over the rest of the advisors. "Good night, gentlemen, and thank you. I wish to speak to the Lord Chamberlain alone."
The group bowed, glancing between each other, and shuffled from the grand parlor. Several went upstairs, to rooms in the mansion; others departed down the back to the secure exit where they'd be taken to their own residences. Lena waited until they were out of hearing before turning on Cecil with an annoyed look.
"Speaking of romance?" She snorted. "What's that supposed to--"
"Heero Yuy," Cecil said, softly, not quite looking at her. "He's legendary. I don't know who this Heero Yuy is, but the guards told me he's the spitting image of the young man you--"
"He is, and he's not the same person," Lena said. She tugged at the sash, catching her gun before it fell. Undoing the sash one-handed, she dropped it on the arm of a chair, and collapsed into the chair as well. "It's a long story, Lord Chamberlain. Expect to see several more faces of Gundam pilots that... well, it's a long story."
"Clones?" Cecil's eyes were bright.
Lena shook her head. "Uh... no, an even longer story than that. Just... this isn't the Heero I knew." She pulled the comb from her hair, letting her hair fall down onto her shoulders, and dropped the comb in her lap. "Romance just isn't in the cards. I have a country to... " She shrugged.
"To save," Cecil finished. "And with all due respect, your highness, the people do need romance. They need the beautiful young princess and her dashing knight. They need the crown, the pomp, the majesty... they've been waiting for twenty-six years now. That's a long time."
She leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. It was dark, fifteen or more feet over her head. She took a moment to contemplate whether Talon would fit in the room. Probably, she decided. Hell, most of her quarters for the past decade would probably fit in the bathroom down the hall.
"As long as you lived, we couldn't move to the next in line," Cecil said. "You never abdicated, so we remained in limbo... and in great part because the people weren't willing to give up the thought of you becoming their Queen."
"Nice words," Lena said, hollowly. She gathered up the comb, the gun, the sash, and came to her feet, lurching a little to the side. "But I might as well be talking in my sleep. Good night, Lord Chamberlain."
"Good night, your highness," Cecil said, and whatever else he'd wanted to tell her remained unsaid. Lena accepted his bow with a polite nod, and struggled up the stairs towards her temporary quarters.
"No," Duo snapped, glaring at the woman. "We did not fly all this way to be put in separate rooms down the hall. Heero Yuy's room, now."
"But the Lord Chamberlain," she replied. She'd held her ground for several minutes, but she was starting to wilt under Duo's angry look. "Security says--"
"Fuck security," Duo spat, and shoved past her. "I'll bang on every damn door if I have to."
"Duo," Trowa said, calmly. When Duo didn't respond, Trowa dropped his duffel bag in the hallway. "Duo," he said, a bit louder. "Calm down."
"I don't want to," Duo replied, and crossed his arms. He didn't start banging on any doors, at least.
"Just be quiet." Trowa closed his eyes, and listened.
The temporary security officer at their side was running through options, desperately trying to determine the protocol of Gundam pilots, available quarters, the proper appearance of things, the situation with laundry, and whether her husband had eaten all the leftovers from the previous evening's meal. Trowa mentally shoved away from her noisy rambling, and focused on letting his exhausted senses stretch into the rooms on either side until he found one in which he could feel a presence but hear no thoughts. After a few long breaths, he opened his eyes, swaying. Duo was there immediately, supporting him. The voices subsided to a background rumble, buffered by Duo's touch.
"Third door on the right," Trowa whispered.
Duo nodded, and led the way. The security officer followed, her eyes wide. At the door, Trowa tried the handle.
"Locked," he said, and frowned. He clicked the 'comm several times, and then rapped gently on the door. There was no response. "He's in there," he assured Duo. "But he's... " Trowa smirked.
"You know how he gets," Duo said, kneeling by the lock. There was the glint of metal, reflecting a single light down the hall, and the tumblers clicked and fell into place. The door swung open, and Duo came to his feet only to find a gun barrel against his forehead. Duo chuckled. "Heero, chill. It's us... and aren't you cold?"
"Pajamas," Heero mumbled, his eyes half-open. "Dunno." He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, and managed to make it back to the bed. The bedsprings creaked with the force of his fall.
Trowa stepped in the room behind Duo, aware the security guard had just gotten an eyeful of a Gundam pilot. Her mental ramblings had ground to a complete halt, and he had half a mind to chuckle at the sudden silence. He gave her a tight smile and shut the door, feeling her drift aimlessly back down the hallway, still stunned.
"We can leave our clothes in the hallway," Trowa told Duo. "The staff will wash them." He stripped off his flight jacket, undershirt, flight pants, socks, shorts, and briefs. "Security guard," he added, at Duo's bewildered look.
"Oh. Duh." Duo shrugged, and stripped down, but turned away from Trowa as he did so.
Behind him, Trowa rolled his eyes, amazed that Duo could still be modest after ten years of partnerships. Then again, Duo was really only modest about getting dressed or undressed. It was a Duo-quirk, Trowa had decided, and it went in that category with other Duo-quirks.
The clothes were dumped in the hallway, and they spent several minutes pushing and shoving a reluctant Heero until they could get the covers out from under him. With some considerable cursing from Duo, inaudible grumbling from Heero, and a few aggrieved sighs from Trowa, the three eventually crawled into the bed, Heero in the middle, still clutching his gun.
Skin touched skin, and the gentle sensation of the buffer smoothed over the distractions of sight, sound, weight, fears. Linked together, legs intertwined and arms around each other, they slid into a dreamless sleep.
"Ms. Bloom... Ms. Bloom?" The young man's voice was thin and light, and he nervously opened the door, startling backwards at the sight of a gun barrel glinting from the cracked doorway. "Err... you left word you wanted to be woken when the Deathscythe pilot arrived?"
"Yeah... " Cat was awake instantly, although shaky on her feet. The back of her neck throbbed. She ignored the ill-fitting, over-sized military pajamas, and shoved her bare feet into her boots. Out of habit, she grabbed her gun, checking the magazine before ramming it home and tucking the gun into the back of her pajama bottoms. "Notify the medic she's arrived, and tell him to meet us there. What time is it?"
"Two a.m.," the guard replied.
"Good. Uh, not good. Whatever. Just make sure the medic gets here, fast. I'll be downstairs."
Hilde was waiting in the mansion's large foyer. She made a face when Cat began descending the wide staircase.
"Do we not have quarters? Some guy told me to wait here, and he left... if I'd known this was the welcome party for latecomers, I would've slept in Deathscythe."
"Hil," Cat said, slowly and carefully, "you're carrying a transmitter. We're going to have it removed."
"I'm what?" Hil shook her head, laughing. "Not funny. There's no way."
"Feel the back of your neck." Cat kept her hands out, free, where she could reach for her gun quickly, if necessary. She didn't want to believe Hil would be a willing traitor, but she wasn't going to take any chances. "Do it."
Hil frowned, and put her hand to the back of her neck. She dropped her hand. "Don't feel anything."
"Push harder. It'll be a square bump, about a fingerprint size, at the bottom of your skull. Might feel like a knot."
Hil frowned, but did as Cat said. She was silent, then gasped, her hand jerking away. "What the hell?"
"Transmitter." Cat opened her mouth to say more, but footsteps down the back hall interrupted her. "That should be the medic."
"Medic?" Hil looked at the old man, hurrying towards them with a black bag in his hand. "What, you're going to operate on me? Here? Now?"
"Yeah," Cat said, a bit dryly. "And be thankful. I got mine cut out in the middle of a field with a Swiss Army knife and no local."
"Princess Relena," the woman murmured, and put a hand on Lena's shoulder, shaking her awake. "Princess, it's time to--"
The girl jumped backwards, a scream choked in her throat, and Lena lowered the gun with a shaky smile.
"Don't touch me to wake me up, in the future," Lena said, and brought up her knees. She leaned her elbows on her knees, and let the gun hang loosely from her hand. It took several long breaths before she could get her heart back under control. When she looked up, the girl was still next to the bed, her hands up in a frozen scream. Lena wanted to roll her eyes, but rubbed them instead. "Is it morning already?"
"Four a.m., your highness," the girl squeaked. Her gaze was fixed on the gun. "I didn't realize you had... had... a... " She pointed with one finger, her hands still raised.
"It's a gun," Lena snapped, and immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry, just... you startled me. I was dreaming... " She shook her head, unable to capture the last bits of the dream; it was fading too fast. She made a face, and climbed out of the bed. "My clothes... "
"Duchess Aster brought more gowns--"
"No, no, please, no more gowns. I had enough of dresses yesterday," Lena said, and slumped on the edge of the bed. She just needed a moment to wake up, she told herself, and perhaps some strong coffee - something to get her brain working, to force herself to keep going. "Jeans, a clean shirt. A jacket. Socks."
"What about undergarments?" The girl looked confused at the omission.
"I can go without if you can't find any," Lena said, ignoring the girl's shocked response. "Not the first time." She dragged a hand through her hair and scowled. "A brush and a hair-band, would be good, too." The girl didn't move. I have a twit in my room, Lena wanted to say, but tried to give the young girl some credit. Having someone stick a gun in your face was probably not a usual event for her. "I was told the staff would be doing laundry?"
"They did the Gundam pilots' first, your highness."
"I am a Gundam pilot," Lena retorted, and caught herself. "Look, I'm sorry. We didn't start out right. Let's try again. I'm Lena. Just Lena. Call me what you want in public, but we're in private. Here, I'm Lena. And if it's not too much trouble, I'd like some coffee. I'll get dressed while you do that."
"I'm supposed to help you dress," the girl said, and dropped her hands. She looked utterly forlorn. "I finally get to be a lady-in-waiting. I'm supposed to wait... and stuff," she burst out.
"Uh... " Lena sighed. I am so out of practice, she thought. "First, what's your name?"
"Carrie."
"Okay. Carrie. I can dress myself. I'm a big girl. Find me jeans, socks, a shirt. I need a quick shower anyway. Meet me back here with clothes - that isn't made of silk or require corsets - and bring coffee. Strong, black, no sugar. We clear?"
"Yes, your highness." Carrie dipped in a curtsey and left in a flurry of black skirt.
When the door shut, Lena fell backwards on the bed. She fingered the gun next to her and yawned, feeling the temptation to slip back into sleep. Refusing to give into exhaustion, she climbed down from the bed and staggered out into the hallway, seeking Cat's room and its bathroom.
Cat opened the door at Lena's knock, pointed to the bathroom, and blindly crawled back into bed. Lena made a face, but continued to the bathroom, starting up the shower. She set her borrowed pajamas and gun on the counter, and stepped under the hot spray.
Ten minutes later she was strolling back to her room, wrapped in a towel and feeling slightly more human. Carrie was waiting with three pairs of jeans, two shirts, and a handful of socks. A thermos of coffee sat on the bedside table, and one mug waited next to it.
"I grabbed everything I could from the clean laundry," Carrie explained. "It's not been pressed. I'm sorry."
"I can live with wrinkles," Lena replied, and threw the towel on the bed. She ignored Carrie's averted eyes, sorting through the jeans until she found a pair that should fit. Hopping a little to get into them, she pulled the shirt over her head and buttoned it up. "Sorry," she said, feeling like she was doing everything wrong, and accepted the mug of coffee from Carrie. "I've gotten so used to being around other women, y'know, we just stopped caring about modesty." Lena gave the girl an apologetic smile, but at a second sip of the coffee, her smile became a wide grin. "You make this coffee?"
Carrie nodded, nervous.
"You're hired. Permanently. Your coffee is amazing." Lena took several more long swallows, and exhaled sharply. "Your coffee kicks fuckin' ass. Make me more. I need an intravenous drip... and socks." She handed the mug back to Carrie, grabbed two socks that looked similar, and pulled them on. Lacing up her boots, she checked the time. A half-hour had passed since Carrie had woken her. Accepting the refilled mug, Lena waved it in Carrie's direction. "I'm outta here. Thanks again, Carrie."
"Your highness," Carrie said, dipping into another curtsey. She came upright with a quiet giggle. "I mean... Lena. Oh, and everyone's downstairs waiting, too."
"Roger that." Lena left the room, and headed downstairs to meet her advisors.
Marco came awake at the sound of a soft tapping on his door. The room was blue-gray in the pre-dawn light, and it took a second round of tapping before he realized he hadn't dreamed the sound. He got up, running a hand through his hair, and opened the door, squinting at the empty hallway.
"Marco," Zhiyi whispered, and Marco looked down to see her clutching her borrowed pajamas around her. It was one of the men's work shirts, and the plaid fabric swamped her small frame. She shifted from foot to foot, and looked around nervously. "I need to ask you something."
"Oh. Uh, come on in." He nodded, and held the door open. She trotted into the room, and perched herself on the overstuffed chair at the foot of the small bed. Marco closed and locked the door, and followed her, sitting down on the end of the bed, his knees almost touching hers. "What is it?"
"These people... " Zhiyi chewed on her lower lip for a moment, before her gaze rose to meet his. Her eyes were large and frightened. "When... when they were talking tonight, in the radio room, I saw some papers and stuff. Erin and the guys were talking on a line with someone in... India. They'd introduced me to the guy." The sleeves on her shirt were too long, and she clutched the cuffs tightly. "Then they started talking about attack plans, and forgot about me. I was bored, and I... I looked at the papers, and... "
"And?" Marco prompted, gently. He'd spent the day explaining to Erin's second-in-command all he knew of the Gundams' flight plans, which admittedly wasn't a great deal. The big picture had been the purview of the pilots and their advisors; his focus had been on the mechanical.
"They... " Zhiyi sighed, and her expression grew hard. "They're saying the Gundams are bad. That they're... these people are saying they don't want the Gundams fighting. That they can fight on their own... "
"Maybe that's a good thing," Marco hedged. "To have people defend themselves."
"I don't think so," Zhiyi replied. "I've seen Mommy fight, and the bad guys have big mobile suits that are tough to beat. My Mommy can beat anything but she's told me... " She slumped in the chair. "I don't think these people can win. And I don't know why the paper made it sound like... like they hate my mommy and my aunts and... and... my uncles."
"I don't think they hate your family," Marco assured her. "In war, people say strong things. It's, it's rhetoric, it's a way of talking. Kind of... exaggerating," he explained. He felt awkward, and not sure she'd understand.
Zhiyi frowned. "It doesn't make sense." She chewed on her lip for a bit, until Marco tapped her chin and shook his head. Zhiyi's lips twisted, but she stopped the nervous gesture. "I thought when I was saying all that stuff, that people would help my mommy an' everyone fight. Not that they'd do it on their own."
"I don't know," Marco admitted. "But if it gets people to stand up for themselves, that's what matters, right?"
"Maybe," Zhiyi replied. Her expression softened, and her hands grew still in her lap. "Do... do people ever stop fighting? Does it ever end?"
"Yes," Marco said, and ran a hand through her thick hair. Carefully he lifted her up, and settled her into his lap, feeling a bit odd but sensing it was exactly what she needed. "They do. In my world, we fought but in the end, we had peace. It'll happen here, too."
"Really?" Zhiyi curled up on his lap, her fingers digging into his shirt. Her bare legs swung, and he pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin.
"I believe it, I really do," he told her. "It doesn't happen overnight, and there's going to be a lot of people hurt, but that's war. But eventually we'll figure out the right thing to do, what it'll take to stop it, and we'll have peace."
"I don't know what will stop it," Zhiyi muttered. "Mommy hasn't stopped it, and it's been ten years."
"It's not always... " He couldn't think of what to say. He didn't have the answers.
"Maybe if we just had one big fight, all at once, that would be enough," Zhiyi said, and yawned. Her voice faded, dropping into barely louder than a breath. "Like, a really huge one... and everyone could get it... out of their systems... "
Marco froze, blinking, his mind tracing back through his own world's history. "Zhiyi," he began, then realized the girl had faded back into sleep. He sighed, and hugged her tightly. "No, please," he whispered, to nothing in particular. "Let the little fights drag on. One big fight is never the solution... the price of that one big fight is always too high to pay... "
But she was soundly asleep; Marco sighed and stood up. It took a bit of effort, but he settled her into his cot, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. He paused, staring down at her moonlit face, and bent over, kissing her on the forehead. She murmured in her sleep, and he shushed her. Taking a second blanket from the chest, he draped it over himself, and sat down in the chair. He remained there, watching her sleep, until the sun rose.
"Princess," Lady Marconi - no, Lena corrected herself, Major Marconi - said, setting down the headphones. "Encrypted transmission received from Ljubljana. All players are in place and awaiting your orders."
"Notify them all that we've got... " Lena checked her watch, and wished for more coffee. "Okay, T-minus fifteen minutes and counting. That means T-minus seventy-five for them."
"Roger," Marconi replied. She was about six years Lena's senior, and her dark hair and bright blue eyes reminded Lena of Lucy Noin, down to the no-nonsense demeanor. And, like Noin, Marconi had a face that looked like it should be smiling, if it hadn't seen so much sadness.
Once, Duo told me he wanted to make people smile again, Lena thought. I wonder if this new Duo fights for the same reason. She tried to remember when she'd seen Duo smile, truly smile, and wasn't sure. She wondered when was the last time she'd smiled herself, and couldn't. Her eyes had drifted closed, and she snapped herself awake with a silently muttered curse.
"Princess, all troops are in position," Marconi said.
"Let's do it," Lena replied.
The driver started up the jeep, and the entourage pulled out of the garage bays. Six more transport trucks were waiting at the corner, carrying loyal troops with purple armbands. They waved at Lena through the open back of the trucks, grinning and elbowing each other when she smiled at them. The six trucks fell into position around Lena's jeep, and she glanced at the side mirror to see Lord Foliaux in the jeep behind her. He looked pale and worried; she knew he couldn't have had much more sleep than she had.
"We'll be approaching the base in five," Marconi announced, and repeated the news into the secured radio line.
Lena nodded, half-listening, reviewing the speech in her mind. Lord Cecil had penned it with Foliaux, whose main duty appeared to be tracking legal precedent. What was most important was not the element of surprise on its own, but the extent of the surprise. Mariemaia's forces were undoubtedly expecting Lena to throw them out of the city; she hoped they weren't aware she was going to do it simultaneously from all cities in Sanq.
The convoy came around a corner and approached the main gate of the Tirana Foundation Post. Two guards were out front, backlit by the rising sun. The security lights had clicked off, and the high fence and open field beyond were tinted with a soft purple-pink of the first rays of dawn.
"State your business," one of the guards called, when Lena's jeep pulled up along side the small guardhouse.
Before Marconi could reply, Lena spoke up.
"I'm Princess Relena of Peacecraft," she told him. "I'm here to discuss the terms of your surrender."
"Our... " The guard frowned, and looked at his compatriot, who shrugged, equally confused. "Uh... Do you have identification?"
"Not on me," Lena said, wry. "You're just going to have to take my word on this. If you'll open the gates, I'd appreciate it."
"Wait!" The guard fell back a step when one of the nearby truck's canvases were yanked back to reveal bristling machine guns. He glanced at the troops, and then at Lena. "Um... I should notify the commandant. I, uh... wait, surrender?"
Lena gave the guard a hard look, and realized he couldn't be much older than seventeen or eighteen. He was holding his own rifle hard enough to leave fingerprints, she suspected, and he looked dangerously close to fainting.
"Yes," she said, as gently as possible. "Sanq is seceding from the Earth Sphere Union. You will have a choice to leave, without your weapons, if you do not wish to join us. If you were born in Sanq and want to stay, you may keep your weapon and join us. If you choose to stay, and were not born here, you'll be expected to begin the paperwork to receive formal citizenship, but you're still welcome to fight at our side."
"Secede... " The guard's eyes grew round, and he looked at the other guard, who gave him an equally bewildered look. "You mean, like, not part of the Earth Union?"
Some of the soldiers in the nearest truck chuckled softly; the early morning breeze carried their reaction back to Lena. She smiled at the two guards, and ignored the stiffness in Marconi's shoulders. Offering citizenship and requiring paperwork hadn't been on the approved speech; Lena made a note to figure out how to have the bureaucracy prepared for a large number of new citizen applications.
"Oh." The guard stared down at his gun, and then at Lena. "I was born here," he said. "I know we have a Queen, I mean, a, a, Princess but... I didn't know... "
"I heard the princess was a Gundam pilot," the second guard spoke up. He eyed Lena, a bit suspiciously.
"I fly Talon," Lena replied.
"And all we have to do to join is say we'll be loyal? And fight for Sanq? Do we have to swear or sign something?" The first guard looked like he was doing his best to appear adult, as if weighing the options seriously.
"Be loyal, remain true to Sanq, and follow our laws," Lena said. "And vote. And pay your taxes." She shrugged. "All the things citizens do."
"No more Foundation," the first guard whispered. He turned to the other guard, who sighed and stepped back, shaking his head. The first guard was quiet, then gave his friend a sad look. "Sorry, man, but... if we gotta fight, I'm gonna fight for Sanq. It's my home."
"Yeah, I know," the second soldier said. He placed a hand on the first guard's arm, and squeezed, then stepped away. "I'll open the gate and alert Commandant Eliopoulos. You take care, Jake."
"You, too," the first guard said. He saluted Lena sharply, and headed towards the nearest truck. Six hands came out immediately to help him in, the soldiers greeting him warmly.
Lena sat back, and stared down at her hands before raising her chin. One man gained, one man lost, and sixty thousand more to go. The gate opened with a shriek of metal scraping on concrete, and Lena could see the lone guard standing by the guardhouse, watching forlornly as the trucks pulled onto the base.
The lead truck took the main road, down to the main grounds before the headquarters. Lena stared up at the mobile suits lined up along the road; she knew the ranks were meant to impress and intimidate, and for a moment she wished she had not been talked out of arriving in Talon. Evictions at the other bases would be occurring one hour after the one in Tirana, and might be accompanied by resistance fighters in rebuilt or stolen mobile suits. For the first move, her advisors had counseled taking the appearance of a peaceful offer; if there were violence in the capital city, the rest of the bases would be treated as hostile. It was a calculated risk, but it didn't make her long for Talon any less.
The jeep pulled around in the circle, flanked on either side by the trucks of soldiers. There was no one waiting up on the headquarters' wide porch, and the column's white marble was ghostly in the shadows, but pink where the sun's rays reached over the barracks behind them. Lena stepped down from the jeep, and nodded to the soldiers, who stretched out in a four-sided configuration around her, three rows deep, their guns at the ready.
A door slammed, and Lena looked up. She felt at a slight disadvantage for looking up, rather than facing someone equally, but there was little to be done about it. It was down to guts and bravado, and hoping she could pull the charisma out of her exhausted body. She took a deep breath, and watched warily as six men and two women came to stand three steps above her. The soldiers between she and the Foundation officers parted to allow her a clear view of her opponents.
"Princess Relena," said the man front and center. He was short; even two steps above her, his head was only in inch or two taller. He carried himself with dignity, and she thought he looked like a kind man, if worried. "I understand you wish to evict the Foundation from Sanq."
"Yes."
"As far as my orders go, the Foundation has not ceased in regarding the nation-states of Sanq to be part of the Foundation." He paused, frowning briefly. "This means that you have no right to tell us to leave our own jurisdiction."
"It is not your jurisdiction now that we have rescinded the invitation," Lena said. She could see movement out of the corner of her eye, and raised her chin so her voice would reach farther. Word had spread fast on the base. Soldiers were appearing, some unarmed, some still in morning dress, and some carrying guns and eyeing her loyal troops. "Sanq has seceded in proper legal form, and thus we have the right to eject all representatives of a foreign nation if we so choose."
"The Foundation does not recognize your legal process."
"But we do, and it's our land." Lena gave him a tight smile. The entire training ground was silent; she could hear a seagull calling, somewhere in the distance. There was a rushing sound, too, like breakers at the shore, though they were five miles inland. She stared at Commandant Eliopoulos levelly, repeating the offer she'd made to the guards at the front gate.
"And if my commanders do not agree?"
She had to give Eliopoulos some credit, she decided; he was being careful. There were too many guns out and ready, and it would end up being a bloodbath if they didn't both watch their step.
"Person by person," Lena replied. "Each man and woman has the right to decide for themselves. If you do not wish to fight for us, then you are permitted to leave in peace."
Eliopoulos stepped down to face Lena, and dropped his voice. She could see the lines around his eyes, and the weary light in his gaze. "You realize that those who leave will meet you on the battlefield. Friends will fight friends, brother and sister against brother and sister. Former commanders against former subordinates."
"I know." Lena kept her expression impassive, but allowed him to see a bit of her own sadness, just a hint. "I am tired of war. I wish it to end. If it has to start here, then so be it. Sanq will be free of this tyranny."
"We will have to agree to disagree on the matter of your rights," Eliopoulos replied, neutrally. He bowed to her, formally but curtly, and stepped back up onto the building's low porch. Framed by the columns, he looked less ridiculous and more like the general he was. He looked out across the grounds, and shouted Lena's offer, repeating it word for word. "If you go," he added, "we will be enemies. You will be treated as traitors by the Foundation, but each must make his own choice. Choose wisely."
Lena slowly let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. A rustle of voices moved across the listening crowds, and she waited. Eliopoulos looked down at her, and she looked up at him; he was waiting, as well.
One of the men who had attended him was frowning; a shift of his weight drew Lena's attention.
"Commandant," the man hissed, his voice barely carrying the distance. "We are the Foundation. We do not cater to the whims of subject nation-members."
"I've lived through two wars," Eliopoulos replied, loud enough for those nearest to hear him. "I don't want to lose my last son."
The man narrowed his eyes, and made a quick gesture to the woman beside him. The man gave Eliopoulos a sharp look, and nodded to two men on the other end of the row.
"As your second-in-command, I'm relieving you of duty on the grounds of treason," the man stated. "Lieutenant Colonel, relay my orders."
The woman nodded, and raised a radio transmitter to her face. She spoke in code, a series of numbers. The two men at the end moved forward, heading for Eliopoulos. He didn't move, but stared out at the ranks of soldiers. Some were moving to join Lena's troops; others had moved away; some wavered, looking back and forth between the two groups.
A scream of vernier jets alerted Lena. She spun to see the line of mobile suits firing into life. Six Ma, she counted, and two Yang. The Ma would be tough to take down as a group, but the Yang were minimal firepower, and designed more for defense. Damn it, she cursed, looking around at the troops. They were backing up as the mobile suits stepped forward, guns trained on Lena.
The Lieutenant Commandant smirked, and nodded casually. He opened his mouth to speak-- "Tell them, fire at--" His words were drowned in a rush of air and furious wind. Everyone present was bowed over, many covering their heads.
A magnificent boom shook the grounds. Lena tensed, then recognized it was the sound barrier breaking, not a bomb. Several windows in the Foundation headquarters shattered. She held her breath, waiting for the gunshots, but no panic came. Instead, the rushing sound repeated itself, resolving into the scream of jets flaring directly overhead.
A red mobile suit, plated in dull crimson Gundanium armor, hovered over the no man's land between Lena's troops and the eight Foundation suits. It had a heat rod like a Long, but it unfolded into a full suit, landing gracefully on the ground between the two sides. The temurah-tail became a whip in the suit's left hand, instead of the expected Long's usual flamethrower.
Lena frowned, realizing the suit was facing away from her, but before she could react, the suit had withdrawn a beam rod. The flare of the beam shot upwards into a sword, and the suit held it at the ready.
"I am here to balance the scales," a woman's voice announced. The sound was broadcast by the suit, echoing across the base. "If you do not attack those who wish to choose Sanq, you will be allowed to live. If, however," and the voice turned sly, almost hopeful, "you wish to put up a fight... don't say I didn't warn you."
Doro! Lena fought back a laugh, and turned to the Lieutenant Commandant.
"I suggest you do as the Gundam says," she announced. The officers on the steps froze, their gaze returning to the intimidating beast standing over Lena. She added in an undertone to Marconi, "inform the rest of our forces that back-up will be necessary at the other bases. I've about had my fill of playing nice. Confirm the escort to our borders for those who choose the Foundation." Lena turned to the driver, and jerked her head towards the jeep.
Marconi turned to watch her go, confused. "Princess--"
Lena grinned up at the Gundam, who turned, a hand raised in salute. Lena waved back, and climbed into the jeep.
"Major Marconi," Lena said, as politely as she could manage. "I'm a Gundam pilot, and it's a damn lucky thing Doro showed up when she did. I won't make that mistake again. I'm going for Talon."
"But you're our--"
"I know," Lena said, sighing. Marconi was military, but obviously she was aristocracy first. Lena grinned up at Doro's unfamiliar Gundam again. "But I belong in Talon. Trust me, I'll do the country a helluva lot more good with a beam saber than a pretty tiara, any day."
End Part 26
(:./sol/tetra26)
