GUNDAM UC 0079
Those beside us / Those behind us
The year is Universal Century 0079. The forces of the Federation and the Duchy of Zeon have reached stalemate. However, the frontlines are in a perpetual state of conflict. In order to preserve the integrity of the lines and to ensure that the Zeon forces do not break through, the Federation has begun to organize units comprised of tanks and customized mobile suits to give advance warning of enemy offensives. These elite observer teams have come to be known as "Shadow Teams" or "moles." Unlike conventional forces, these teams do not adhere to strict military protocol, which often fosters a unique environment. From this climate comes many tales, often of heroism, but equally as often of grim reality. This is one such story…
Alex wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his Federation forces issue uniform. He had come to inevitable conclusion that the collar was simply a nuisance months ago, and as such he had unbuttoned his uniform almost completely. Even in the suffocating African heat that permeated his battle tank, Alex Kinnard still looked like a model. The sharp beauty of his face amplified by his blonde hair and blue eyes struck everyone he met. Everyone regarded him with the same inquisitive stare that questioned why someone with his face and body would ever join the Federation forces.
Now after months of sitting in the same battle tank, on the front lines of the Federation's Central American Front, Alex's eyes sagged from fatigue. The cramped interior of the battle tank made him fidget in his seat every so often, desperate to get outside and let the heat evaporate the layer of sweat covering his body. Every day was like this. Alex grimaced at the small view screen in front of him, displaying the layers of green trees out front of the battle tanks turret. There was only a single break in the blanket of trees where a stream ran through, stretching from end to end of the view screen.
"Two months of this," Alex muttered while stretching his arms out in front of his chest. He let them drop to the seat's armrests, and went limp in the chair. His eyelids drooped, and sleep began to overtake him.
Suddenly a crash brought Alex back to his senses. A cloud of dust and a flock of birds rising to the sky caught his immediate attention. Below Alex, his driver Staff Sergeant Kenneth Jaiwen let a curse slip from his lips. Alex smirked at his sergeant's failure of composure, even as he keyed up full magnification on the origin of the dust cloud. The smirk disappeared from his face.
Peaking over the treetops was the head of a Zaku II, the glimmering humanoid head, the coolant tubes running around the region where a man's chin would be, and the Cyclops eye unmistakable even at such a distance. Alex regarded it with an intense stare, his blue eyes attempting to bore through the Zaku's reinforced luna titanium armor. He brought a hand up to his headset's mouthpiece. Convinced that the electronic system would pick up his voice, Alex spoke softly. The transmission traveled instantly from the tank's underground bunker position to his commander's hovertruck.
"Captain, this is Kinnard. I have one Zaku II incoming towards the southeast, about one klick out. It should be within attack range in three minutes, over." While waiting for a reply, Kinnard settled back to watching the screen for any further signs of the Zaku. A few moments passed before he caught another glimpse of the machine's metal pate. Kinnard spoke again into his mouthpiece, "sir, be advised we have enemy contact. One Zaku II inbound, probably a recon unit hoping to penetrate through the forward posts, over."
As the wait continued, Alex Kinnard's irritation increased. He gnawed gently at his lower lip, trying to keep from spewing a string of curses at his commander. Finally after a minute he could stand it no longer. "Rotten time for a quickie," he remarked.
Immediately he became keenly aware of a harsh stare cutting into him from the driver's seat. He adjusted his gaze slightly to see Sergeant Jaiwen watching him intensely, his eyes filled with bitter contempt. The standoff lasted just a moment before Jaiwen turned around in his seat, reorienting himself to launch the tank into action at a moment's notice. Off to the side, Corporal Akane Mitsuena sat silently at the gunnery station, hands poised over a control stick. Apparently the comment had no effect on her, but Alex reasoned that she was so unreadable anyhow that he would never be able to tell the effect anything he said had on her.
With an almost subconscious motion Alex switched the target of his communications dispatches to Observer Team Foxtrot's only mobile suit unit, an RGM-79 GM Custom unit piloted by Warrant Officer Terrence Clive. Hidden beneath a camouflage netting in a carved out section of the hillside, Terrence Clive's mobile suit contained the most firepower that the observer team had at its disposal. At eighteen meters high, the RGM-79 GM Custom mobile suit stood nine times as tall as a man. The angularity of its construction offset its humanoid shape, bringing to mind the fictitious works of Assanov, such as "I, Robot."
Trading a visor for eyes, the head of the GM Custom looked suitably inhuman while retaining the general shape and structure of a human face. Other particular differences from the human body shape included the shoulders and knee joints, which were covered by square armor plates; bolts connecting the plates to the shoulders and knees protruded from the corners of the plates. Small pits dotting the chest and back inconspicuously housed antipersonnel shrapnel. Part of the unit's construction included a pair of jet thrusters, circular nozzles that plugged straight into a console unit on the back. On both sides of the center of the torso were vents, colored yellow as a courtesy and warning to those who decided to venture too near them during maintenance.
In its right hand it held a ninety millimeter assault rifle, commonly called a 'spaz' for its hideously poor accuracy and tendency to spray shells wildly. Clips on the ninety millimeter attached to the top portion of the long rifle stock closest to the GM Custom's elbow joint. In its left the GM Custom held a long shield, curved slightly to conform the GM Custom's shape. Wide enough to cover most of the GM Custom's body, the shield's construction included so much heavy armor that mechanics often joked it would be better to make another mobile suit with the stuff.
As for the interior, the cockpit was roomy enough to keep a pilot from claustrophobia. Three view screens, to the front, left and right, encompassed the pilot's view and fed information from the primary camera in the mobile suit's head visor. To the left of the pilot's seat was a power control lever, dictating the speed of travel of the mobile suit. To the right center was a control stick used for maneuvering the mobile suit's center of gravity and general orientation of the arm holding the active weapon system. Numerous meters and readouts dotted the control area in front of the pilot, measuring fuel, ammunition, armor status, reactor heat, not to mention the temperature within the cockpit.
Terrence sat comfortably within the cockpit with his eyelids gently shut. His rhythmic breathing gave the impression of sleep, but Terrence was as alert as a jittery cat. His ears seemed to twitch at every sound that passed through the space within the mobile suit's cockpit. Even with his heightened senses, nothing about Terrence Clive was unusual or exemplary. He was not beautiful like Alex Kinnard, nor was he exceedingly tall like the unit's commander, Alex Navarro. Rather, Terrence was the sort of man who escaped notice for his breathtaking normalcy, a trait that Terrence rather enjoyed for it allowed him to stay out of sight. His straight black hair and dull brown eyes added to his inconspicuous nature. If it were not for his unconventional wisdom and natural ability as a mobile suit pilot, Terrence Clive could have passed through life without a second glance from anyone.
A quick beep signaling an incoming communication brought Terrence out of his relaxed state and he opened his eyes. "Warrant Officer Clive, this is Second Lieutenant Kinnard. Captain Navarro isn't responding to communication dispatches, so I figured I ought to contact someone slightly more competent than him. We have one Zaku II inbound, on a southeastern trajectory. It probably intends to break through our forward posts, over," the voice of Alex Kinnard rang in his ears.
Terrence chuckled under his breath before responding. "Lieutenant Kinnard, this is Warrant Officer Terrence Clive, I copy. How long do you wager we have till it enters the kill zone, over?"
"It's in our kill zone right now," Alex Kinnard's response fired back instantly.
"Well, well," Terrence shot back, "looks like we'd better give it a warm welcome then. You're certain it's alone?"
Alex Kinnard shook his head, the motion captured on Terrence's center view screen just a second behind the actual movement. "There's no way to be certain until Navarro gets back into the hovertruck."
Terrence nodded, triggering the mobile suit's reactor for more power. "Keep trying him. I'll attract the Zeke's attention. Be ready to catch him in a crossfire."
Alex laughed. "I'm always ready."
"Good," Terrence quipped, ending the communication. He flipped a few switches, giving full power to his mobile suit's reactor. Next his hand flew to a control knob. He gave a quick twist, driving the coolant levels up. If he didn't destroy the Zaku within the first few minutes of the engagement, Foxtrot would be in grave danger anyhow. No need to worry about wasting coolant.
As the reactor came to life, the mobile suit's visor flashed as the main camera initialized. The view screens in the mobile suit cockpit glowed brightly, displaying the surroundings at a near perfect level of quality. In synchronous motion with the pressure Terrence applied to the foot pedals and the forward motion of the power lever the mobile suit broke through its camouflage netting, standing tall, its rifle pointed straight ahead. As the last of the netting fell away, Terrence pressed forward on the power control lever, urging the mobile suit forward.
"Mobile Suit launch!" Terrence warned, broadcasting to the battle tank and hovertruck simultaneously. He pressed both feet down on the pedals, and with a thunderous roar his mobile suit's thrusters ignited, propelling the mobile suit into the air. It flew fast and high, landing in a point exactly perpendicular to the battle tank and Zaku II positions. Giving the Zeon pilot no time to react to his sudden appearance, Terrence pressed the pedals again, his mobile suit leaping this time to put the Zaku II in between the battle tank's concealed position and Terrence's mobile suit.
"Gotcha!" Terrence smirked, even as the Zaku II turned round, leveling the giant one hundred twenty millimeter rifle in Terrence's direction.
Terrence's finger tightened around the control stick's trigger, sending a flurry of ninety millimeter shells streaking towards the Zaku. The red hot trails they left behind lit their course for Terrence's trained eye to see. In conjunction with his fire, he moved, dashing to one side as the Zaku II opened fire with its rifle. The boulder-sized shells of the Zaku's rifle tore into tree trunks, toppling several behind where Terrence's mobile suit had stood just a moment before.
The Zaku pilot traced Terrence's path with his rifle, rounds tearing up the earth just behind Terrence's hastened movements. Just when it seemed like the Zaku's rifle swing had finally caught up to the GM Custom, Terrence's rounds started to find their mark. The first few ninety millimeter shells ricocheted off the Zaku's shoulder plates, bouncing harmlessly into the air. The next slammed into gap where the armor plates met, punching through the minimal armor and cutting the control cables and circuits. The Zaku's left arm dropped to its side, useless.
Confronted with the realization that his mobile suit's power had been significantly reduced, the Zaku pilot hesitated. The dull roar of his rifle subsided and he began to slowly back away from the GM Custom, closer and closer to Alex Kinnard's concealed battle tank. Terrence increased the pressure of his attack, triggering his jump jets with his feet. His mobile suit flew into the sky, continually firing its rifle at the retreating Zaku. The shells tore through the foliage surrounding the Zaku, a few rounds making contact and denting the heavy front torso armor of the Zaku.
Meanwhile, in his battle tank, Alex Kinnard fidgeted impatiently. "Akane, how much longer?"
Akane replied softly, her voice filled with none of the anxiety that permeated Kinnard's. "The Zaku will enter our effective range of fire in ten seconds."
Kinnard cursed under his breath, and switched his communication line to the hovertruck. "Captain Navarro, come in, this is Alex Kinnard. Do you read me, Captain?" Only static answered him.
Suddenly Terrence's face appeared on Kinnard's view screen. His face was a picture of pure focus, his eyes burning with the heat of battle, his brow furrowed, and sweat glistening on his forehead. "Any time now, Kinnard! My mobile suit can't keep this up much longer!" he shouted.
Kinnard's reply was terse. "Five more seconds." Terrence nodded, and switched off the communications link.
Kinnard twisted to face Akane. "How much longer Akane?" His gunner did not reply. "Akane!"
"Now," Akane's quiet voice broke through Kinnard's thundering tirade, punctuated by the sudden thunderous cry of the tank's one hundred fifty millimeter shell. Kinnard's eyes turned to the main view screen, and he watched as the computer traced the shell's projectory. Less than a second later the shell crashed into the Zaku's right arm, blowing apart the upper arm and eviscerating the rest of the arm from the Zaku's main body. Arm and rifle toppled to the ground, crushing the trunks of a dozen trees and shaking the ground.
The Zaku hesitated.
Terrence's Mobile Suit dropped from the sky like lightning, emptying its clip into the Zaku's torso. The ninety millimeter shells punched holes half the height of a man into the Zaku's frame, ripping the pilot to pieces and making mincemeat of the internal circuitry. With a low whine the Zaku's solitary eye faded from red to blackness, and the whole suit toppled to the ground. A cloud of dust swirled around where it fell, sending birds flying.
Inside his tank, Kinnard smiled. Jaiwen laughed out loud, punching his fist into the air. He turned in his seat and gave Kinnard an enthusiastic thumbs-up, a beaming smile on his face. Unable to contain himself, Kinnard laughed at the sight. He keyed communications to Terrence.
"That was some fine piloting. Some of the best I've seen in a while," Kinnard chuckled as he spoke the words.
"That's right," Terrence joked back. "You probably haven't seen piloting that good in over a month."
"Been about that long since we've seen a Zaku…coincidence?" Kinnard's chuckle trailed off to a relieved smile. "I wish I could see your face about now Terrence. You must be beaming."
"Well, I know I am," Captain Navarro's voice came through loud and clear on the communications line.
"With no good reason, either," Kinnard said. "Where were you?"
"Out back patching a hole with sergeant Therin," Navarro replied. "I got back in the hovertruck after I heard Terrence's mobile suit move out."
"Would have been nice for you to join us, sir," Terrence offered, his voice unreadable.
"Well, you see, I thought about that, but then I was like, 'they can handle this on their own,' and there's got to be a problem if I can't have myself a quickie, right Kinnard?"
Kinnard was so surprised that for a moment he didn't respond. Then, all at once, Terrence, Jaiwen, and himself burst into laughter once more. So what if their commander was a sex-hound, with little else on his mind but his alluring subordinate? So what if they had experienced yet another brush with death? So what that another man lay dead in the treeline, his body so broken no one would ever know his name? So fucking what?
After all, they were still alive.
And…an Epilogue
"Where's Mitsuena?" Kinnard asked as he let the tent flap fall. The smokeless heater had warmed the interior of the tent, and the smell of stew permeated it.
"Not sure," Jaiwen replied. He stirred the stew absently, concentrating more intently on a letter in his left hand. "I think she's behind the tank, actually. What's up?"
"Nothing really, I just need to ask her a quick question about the refit coming up."
"Well, you may not want to disturb her right now," Jaiwen said, laying the letter flat on the small table where the heater and pot sat.
"What do you mean?" Kinnard asked.
"Never mind, if you don't know, you don't know. Check behind the tank." Jaiwen picked the letter back up and immediately began reading it once more.
Kinnard shrugged, and left the tent. The sudden shift from the dimly lit tent to the starlit night caught him by surprise. He stumbled almost at once, and fell down soon after, grunting as his foot caught on a stray branch. Unsure of his footing, Kinnard sat on the ground for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the light of the night. It was then that he heard Akane's voice, low in the distance. He couldn't make out the first few words, so he craned his neck forward, concentrating intently on the voice of his driver.
"…and may we never forget those who tread softly on this earth, who exist for but a flash of light, and who fall, to be swept away by the wind. May we never forget the sacrifice, or the pain, that comes with the duty bestowed upon us. And may we never forget the hearts of those behind us, or the lives of those beside us, for these are why we fight. Rest in Peace."
Kinnard got to his feet, advancing steadily yet cautiously as he felt his way through a maze of loose branches and rocks. Finally he was able to make out the dim outline of Akane.
"Was that a eulogy I heard?" He asked.
Akane's form jumped visibly at the sound of Alex's voice. "Of sorts," she replied, her back to still him.
Kinnard scratched his head thoughtfully as he pulled a cigar and lighter out of his pocket. His thumb scraped against the notched wheel of the lighter, and a bright flame sprang to life, temporarily illuminating the surroundings. The outer rim of the cigar glowed bright red as Kinnard puffed on it unceremoniously. With his free hand, he returned the lighter to his pocket.
"Do you do this every time a man dies?"
Akane hesitated before replying, "yes."
Kinnard blew a ring of smoke into the air. He tapped the cigar lightly, letting some ash drop to the ground. "You don't have to be uneasy about it. I was just wondering. After all, men do have a right to be remembered, don't they?"
Akane nodded. "They do."
Tapping his cigar, Kinnard walked over to Akane, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Come on, let's get a bite of whatever Jaiwen's cooking. It can't hurt to tease that sucker once in a while."
They walked back towards the tent.
THE END