14 May 2001
Category: Drama
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence. This is a story about war, so death is always a possibility as well.
Disclaimer: Quatre, the Maganacs, and their MSes belong to Sunrise, the Sotsu Agency, and associated parties; I intend no infringement upon those rights.
Feedback: I'm seriously lurking, so it would be lovely if you could cc
comments to the address above. Thanks!
Notes: This story focuses on an invented Maganac; Mehmed could be any of the faces under the fezzes, but he's basically an original character. The basic plot of Mehmed's story comes from a dream my husband had some months ago, and he asked me to write this fic--so this is a birthday present for my airen. (Ni zhidao wo ai ni bi ni ai wo duo, dui bu dui? ^_~)
/ denotes thoughts
(Arabia, AC 195: in the early days of the Gundams' intervention on Earth)
Mehmed woke to the familiar tones of the call to prayer, crawling out of his bedroll with only a muted grumble. Completing the ritual ablutions and straightening his tunic, he carried his prayer mat outside in time to join the other Maganacs in the first silent raka'at of the sunrise prayer. The rhythm of the ancient words was comforting, empowering, joining the Corps into a brotherhood just as surely as their years of training.
Today's ritual was different, though--they were headed into battle, and might well have no chance to perform the noon prayer. So they performed it now, as was permitted in times of emergency; these mandatory devotions, the fard salat, could not be omitted even in time of war. Especially in time of war.
Even as he rose to complete the last sequences of the zuhr, Mehmed's mind was already hurrying ahead to the battle to come. It wasn't supposed to be an especially tough fight: just an Alliance parts convoy, venturing unwisely through territory protected by the Maganacs. So no one was particularly worried--especially since they had Quatre backing them up in Sandrock. Everyone had felt a little more invincible since the Gundam had joined their regular forays; its deceptively slight pilot fought as hard as the roughest of Rashid's regulars, and with a tactical skill that surprised those foolish enough to judge him by his youthful face.
There was something more, too--a sort of glow that set him apart. A group of the younger Maganacs had been in the marketplace one morning, teasing Quatre about his total ignorance of Earth foods (he was staring at a coconut with comical confusion at the time, and they couldn't resist!). The civilians in the square had joined in the laughter, but with an overtone of awe--and more than one person had reached out in abashed reverence to touch Quatre's sleeve, his golden hair, as if he were somehow holy.
Mehmed yearned for some small share of that glory--not that he envied Quatre, exactly. After all, it was impossible to feel anything but affection for the soft-spoken young leader. But Mehmed wanted his own light--and in his dreams, he found it.
The mere thought made him smile; last night the dream had come again, as it did almost every night. Mehmed was fighting an unknown enemy, making his heroic way across an eerily familiar battleground. Last night it had been a clashing of Leos, but the dream didn't always involve mobile suits; sometimes it was an aerobatic ballet of old-fashioned fighter planes, sometimes an even more ancient melee of swords and horses under a blazing desert sun. Occasionally Mehmed would catch glimpses of his brothers and cousins among those swinging scimitars at his side, and would feel a rush of joy at their shared invincibility. That feeling remained constant, no matter how different the dream's landscape might be. And it always ended the same way: with Mehmed standing on a hill, bathed in glory. Knowing, with every part of his mind and heart, that he had saved the day-- that he had earned this place in the light. It was wonderful, every time.
The dream had hovered in the back of his mind when he headed off to sign up for the Maganac Corps--his brothers had clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations, while his mother turned away to hide her tears. His father--his father might have been proud. Or he might not--who could tell? His face certainly hadn't shown any emotion either way.
Mehmed brushed away the troublesome memory, trying to recapture the confidence the dream always brought. /Maybe it will be today-- maybe./ He gathered up his gear and headed to his Leo, a smile on his face.
At first, it seemed as though everything was going according to plan. Mehmed's group circled left as the other troops circled right, cutting off the convoy's escape. The enemy forces ignored the offer to surrender, but that wasn't especially surprising. And as their inside sources had predicted, the train wasn't all that well-defended; aside from a few guards with machine guns and rocket launchers, the convoy appeared to be an easy target.
Appearances gave way to painful reality all too soon. The battle was fully engaged before the last five or six freight cars swung open to reveal their cargo of Leos--fifty or sixty suits, at least. Far too many for their division to handle on its own, even with Sandrock's help.
Their group commander's set face appeared in the comscreen, eyes dark and intense over his ever-present sunglasses. "All units, get out of there! Return to the drop point and await further orders."
Mehmed protested, "But Abdul, what about--"
"Dammit, fall back!" This time his brother's voice permitted no argument, and the rest of the Maganacs rumbled obediently into motion, gathering up fallen comrades as they retreated.
But Mehmed strained forward in his safety harness, swiping impatiently at the sweat that kept trickling into his eyes. There was something familiar about this place--something--
The battered Leo clanked forward two steps, and suddenly the images in his viewscreen fell into place like the jeweled fragments in a kaleidoscope: a ridge of distant hills, sliding dunes golden under the morning sun, plumes of oily smoke rising from just over the horizon. It was the landscape of his dream.
Mehmed shoved forward on the steering yoke, and his Leo broke into a clumsy run--no retreating, not when glory waited on that plain below. Past the twisted remains of enemy Aries suits, past the broken heaps that had once been Maganac Leos, straight into the thick of the desperate battle that still twisted its weary way across the scorched sands. Where was it? The light--in his dream, it had come to him--
There. The little hill, the broken wall.
Just to one side, the gold and white hulk that was Sandrock continued to wield its shotels as if the battle could still be won, surrounded by a tiny vanguard of defiant Maganacs. They were managing to beat back the tide of Aries, and their ragged line looked like it might actually hold.
Scrolling through the available frequencies, Mehmed was finally able to pick up on their battle communications.
"--about twelve more, approaching from your right--"
"Roger that, and they're within range...now!"
"Watch your back, Master Quatre!"
"G-got it, Rashid. Thanks!"
They moved with the smoothness of old fighting companions, shifting to cover one another with what looked like unstoppable grace--until Mehmed got close enough to see the sparks and smoke coming from their damaged mobile suits, the jerky movements that indicated mechanical failure in the joints of the battered mechas. Even Sandrock looked unsteady, swaying on its feet as if the balance systems were down.
Mehmed hesitated on the hillside for a moment, not quite sure what to do next. And then his attention was caught by movement on the hilltop to his left: three truck-mounted plasma cannons had taken up position, and were gathering themselves for a barrage. All at once, Mehmed saw what he had to do, where he needed to be.
The whole world seemed to have slowed down--it felt like Mehmed had several lifetimes in which to act. If only his Leo could move as quickly as his mind seemed to be flying! It seemed to be fast enough, though; before any of the other suits could even turn, Mehmed had used the thrusters to clear the low wall and reach the top of the hill. The cannons' massed shot scorched across the sky like a comet, heading straight for Sandrock's pilot compartment. Mehmed's Leo wasn't heavy enough to knock Sandrock out of the way, but he thought it should be big enough to absorb most of the blow--and if Mehmed could make it in time, he could buy the precious seconds the others would need to take out the trucks.
/Whatever happens, Sandrock has to survive this. Quatre _has_ to be here to lead us...to lead them. To bring an end to all of this. In shaa'a Allah, let me get there in time--/
Then the blast hit Mehmed's Leo, and the light was all around him. Hotter, much hotter than it had been in his dream, but just as bright. From a great distance, he heard Quatre's voice shouting something, and the rumble of the heavy air transports coming at last to retrieve them.
It was all right, then; he had done it. It was not at all how he had thought it would end--but it was enough.
/Father, can you see me? I did it, Father!/
Mehmed held out his arms to the light, which seemed just as eager to embrace him. Finally, the glory.
He was smiling, arms still outstretched, as it lifted him away.
-end-
Note-lets:
raka'at = stage of prayer (I'm about to explain this badly, but: each
of the five mandatory prayers is broken down into stages--repetitions
of a sequence of devotions--and each of these stages is a raka'at.)
zuhr (sometimes transcribed "thur") = the noon prayer
salat (sometimes transcribed "salah" or "sal'laat") = ritual prayer
fard salat = the five mandatory prayers that shape the Muslim day
'In shaa'a Allah'= God willing
If I had the character set to do the diacritical marks correctly, "nur"
would have a bar over the u, indicating that it's a longer oo sound
(like the 'ui' in fruit), according to Q-sama's dictionary research.
<glomps the meimei for all her help>
Are the Maganacs Muslim? Is Quatre? Not necessarily. ^_^ But
operating with the premise that they might well be, I thought I'd try
to get at least some of the details correct. My apologies in advance
if I've stumbled without knowing! I gathered information on prayers
&c from various web sources, but this was probably the most helpful:
http://www7.bev.net/civic/icb
(The link called 'How To Pray' takes you to a pamphlet designed to
teach new Muslims the basic prayers--it's both clear and
comprehensive, and very useful!)
(:./lilias/nur)
