A/N: My first fanfiction in just about ten months. Forgive me if I am rusty. It is also my first Gurren Lagann fanfic ever (please, do not post spoilers as I am only on the nineteenth episode!) and I have made it my solemn mission to increase the number of pieces in that category. This is currently a tentative two-parter, so please bear with me.
"Hell," he said sullenly under his breath, "I'll never understand…"
His words were muffled instantly by the shrieking of the Ganmen's internal gears. He cursed himself, once again reminded painfully of his stupidity. He knew better than to leave it for more than a few days without being oiled. While they did act at times like sentient beings, he always managed to forget that they needed the same proper care just like any household object. Still squeaking slightly, he managed to pilot Enki so that it stood in the middle of the desert. Regretfully, he noticed, at least fifty miles from the Capital.
Letting the machine rest for a moment, he got up from his seat and stretched, watching as the Ganmen's limbs fell limply to its sides. It would mean a night out, he reflected, a night out alone. He knew that he would be crucified the moment he reported back to the Capital; suspected resistance to the Spiral King never went unpunished. And yet he could not fathom exactly why. While not one of the Generals, he still managed to retain something of a spotless record. True, he had let Simon and the others escape unscathed, but that was to be expected. Gurren-Lagann was an old power that had not reared its head in several years; there was no doubt that he would still be rusty in defending himself. He had always acted as the Spiral King had wanted. He had always done the right thing.
"I'm sorry Enki," he whispered, "I know that I should take better care of you. You've been something of a friend to me, even if you are just metal."
He chuckled at this as he said it. Friend? The word was still quite foreign to him; he had yet to understand the whole concept. He struggled with it as he opened up the Ganmen's mouth, preparing to jump down to see what the problem was. None of the General's counted as friends. Not Adiane, Guame, or Cytomander. Oftentimes he would see them sitting around a large conference table, planning their next strategy, but he never considered it prudent or acceptable to join in. The sneers on their faces! The whole thing made him shudder. None of the other, lesser Beastmen could count either. He rarely spoke to any of them anyway. They were too busy with hunting, yet he could recall that there were often large hunting parties that he was so rarely invited to. Most thought him pitiful. He desired to understand it, but with no amount of luck.
The scorching heat above him made him very uncomfortable in his coat with the fur cuffs. He crawled down one of Enki's legs swiftly, eventually sliding down the last joint so that he could reach the ground. He fell forward on his face, coughing on the sand. Was he that pathetic that he could even choke on sand?
He had first heard the shrieking in the legs, and remarked to himself (with a slight giggle) that the machine must be suffering from a particularly nasty bout of arthritis. He took out his cleaver from its holster, twisting it into the giant screws to open the knees of the Ganmen.
"Shit," he said as he opened the kneecaps. Nothing. The gears where whirring in quiet stand-by mode. It was all in working order. He closed the kneecaps with a resolute clang, darting around to see if the other leg was in the same condition. Same, he noticed with a sense of failure. Was he that stupid that he couldn't even diagnose a mechanical problem with his Ganmen?
Resolutely he decided to shimmy back up the left leg of the Ganmen, reaching the mouth with a sense of trepidation. Was it horribly internal? He was not an experienced engineer, although all pilots and soldiers were required to take a seminar on basic repair techniques. However, if the problem was a large one…he shuddered. He would have to walk back to the Capital, and then there would be a whole lot of hullabaloo if he wanted a group of scouts and engineers to go back and fetch Enki.
He took off the metal plates from the walls of the cockpit, searching for some type of problem. Nothing, once again. The gears were still in stand-by mode, and although the shriek still echoed throughout the machine it now seemed quite far off. There would be no way to reach it right now, and with a complete lack of tools and knowledge.
Viral then approached the small box which served as a two-way radio, linking him to the Capital. He turned it on, and waited until one of the scouts picked up the signal, answering in a curt voice.
"Viral." He said with a listless tone, "What is it?"
"You will address me as sir." Viral growled through the microphone. "You are speaking to a higher-ranking officer. Do not forget that."
"Yes sir." The Beastman replied, and Viral smiled nastily, hoping that he was cringing. "What is it, sir?"
"You will send out an envoy. I am fifty miles from the Capital, and I cannot make the return trip home."
"Why not, sir?" the Beastman asked.
"My Ganmen is experiencing mechanical difficulties." Viral finished quietly. "Please, do not alert any of the Generals, nor the Spiral King. They must not find out."
"Afraid of being tortured?" the Beastman chuckled, "As I remember, sir, they were quite unhappy once you let the Gurren Lagann go."
"I know, I know!" Viral said impatiently. "Is there any way you are able to send out a group of engineers? It is my hope to perhaps return with my Ganmen in working order, so it seems that nothing has transpired."
"I do not think that I shall be able to do that, sir." The Beastman replied, "After all, I am a junior officer. They shall not trust me with this task. You should know that much yourself, sir."
"I know," Viral said heavily. "Look, just tell the Generals. I shall deal with it from here."
"Fair enough, sir. It is too bad that you shall have another black mark against you."
"Yes, it is," Viral answered quietly. "It is indeed."
He trembled as he turned off the radio. He was certain that there would be a horrible punishment, most likely exacted by Adiane. She liked to punish him, it seemed; for everything. They had fought together in the old wars, but it did not seem to matter. She had forgotten who he was, it appeared. She had forgotten the mutual respect of long ago, before things had gotten out of control. Before that incident, when they had been happy and before someone had managed to tear it asunder. One might have called it a classic love triangle, but Viral looked upon it with too much agony to even attach the word 'love' to it.
He settled down into his seat, still shaking. Dawn would bring pain. It always brought pain.