Chapter 2

The airport was crowded with winter break and the families making the best of it. It was all laughter and giggles for them, and Billy Katagiri passed the time envying them from afar, securely depressed by the knowledge of a world of research deadlines waiting like a death sentence for him back at base. He didn't even have the time to be here, but Graham—who had initially volunteered to come—was currently unavailable for utterly ridiculous reasons, and Billy didn't have the heart to leave the new girl waiting at the airport, laden with baggage and, god forbid, jetlag.

It was the hour long drive from base that made the job all that worse, and when he arrived he spent another half hour scavenging for a parking spot, and then waiting in the airport, mostly standing and straining to see over the crowd's heads, but later catching a seat on a bench and being miserable there.

However, he was looking forward to meet her. She came on the written consent of his uncle, and despite all appearances, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Finally, Billy caught a flash of a military uniform, and then white hair among a knot of people streaming through the gate. He craned his neck as he stood up, trying to keep his eyes on the uniform. She was doing a remarkable job of sliding through the crowd, walking straight through a group of children and stepping over someone's spilled luggage without breaking pace.

"Excuse me!" Billy called. "Miss, uh—"

She was only carrying one small suitcase, which made her step much faster than it should be. Billy quickened his pace, apologizing hastily as he pushed past people with more force than what was polite. After making her way out of the worst of the crowd, she stopped in front of the airport exit, head tilted and facing the revolving doors as if uncertain where to continue.

Exhaling in relief, Billy slowed down as the distance between them finally closed. "Excuse me." He said again, and this time she turned to face him.

"May I help you?"

"I'm Billy Katagiri, from MSWAD." He held out a hand. "I came here to pick you up."

"Oh," She said. "Thank you." She took his hand, shaking it gently, and as their palms pressed together, Billy felt a chill run through his skin. Even through the rough linen of her glove, her hand was cold. "Are you Homer Katagiri's nephew?"

"Yes, the Major General is my uncle." Billy said, smiling. "He's helped me quite a lot, especially when I first joined the military."

"Helped you?"

"Well, you know," Billy hesitated, "the usual kind of things you hear." It was something he was a bit unwilling to admit. Family connections were looked down upon in the military just as it was in the rest of the world. But Billy was readily assured of his own merits in the technology department, and it was because of that that he could accept his uncle's help with a clear conscience. "I haven't been able to see him much recently, what with this whole Gundam mess going on. But we do contact occasionally."

"I see." She said.

Noticing the small roller suitcase she was pulling, Billy leaned over. "Here, let me carry this for you."

"That isn't necessary, sir."

"No I insist. You must be tired." He carefully pried the handle from her grasp, only to stumble as the unexpected weight of the suitcase dragged him downward. What did she put in this thing?

"Perhaps I should—" She began.

"I'm fine." Billy said quickly, a little flustered as he straightened himself. "Is that all you have with you?"

"The rest of my belongings were shipped separately, sir." She said. "I believe they have already arrived at the base."

"Oh, well that's makes things easier then." He checked his phone for the time. "It's a long drive from here back to base. We should get going."

Billy's car was parked in the underground lot, a good distance from where they were standing. She didn't speak as they walked, and it wasn't until they were standing in a loud and packed elevator when she said, quietly, her gaze focused on nothing in particular, "My name is Ruho, sir."

Billy looked at her, surprised, and then wondering how he could've forgotten to ask. "And your family name?"

"Watase." She replied. "Ruho Watase."

"Ruho Watase." Billy repeated. His Japanese was a little shoddy from growing up in the States, but he had enough college courses under his belt to know that her first name probably wasn't Japanese. And her appearance—something European, Nordic perhaps. "It's a very unique name. Did you grow up in Japan?"

"I spent the recent years there, sir."

"I go there every summer to visit my relatives." Billy said. "It's a lovely country."

Ruho didn't answer.

By the time they reached the car, the lack of conversation had become tenuous. Billy wasn't as bad with women as the glasses and lab coat suggested, but Ruho was looking to be a rather melancholy girl, her face distant and vacant as they walked, and he was never good with those.

The drive back to base was quiet, aside from the radio that Billy had turned on to ward away the silence.


Upon arriving at the MSWAD HQ, the engineer had suggested that she settle down first. He was worn out from dragging her suitcase, but refused to let her have it, too faithful to social decorum, perhaps.

"If it's at all possible, sir," Ruho said. "I would like to meet Lieutenant Aker first."

"Graham?" He said questioningly. "Do you have any urgent business with him?"

"No, sir. I would just like to—" She paused, searching. "I would see what sort of person he is."

"Well if you're up for it." He gestured to the fields. "A new test course was released today." He explained as they made their way to the hangers. "Knowing Graham, he'll still be over there, doing god-knows-what horrors to himself."

There were no Flags being piloted on the fields. Billy talked with one of the maintenance crew members, and found that the lieutenant had left for the lockers a few minutes ago. He hadn't been looking very healthy when he left, the man said, and if they didn't find him in the lockers, then they would probably have some luck with the sick bay.

"You'll have to get used to that about him, I'm afraid." Billy told her, apologetic.

"It's fine, sir."

Visiting the sick bay proved to be unnecessary. When they arrived at the men's lockers, there was a light haired man lying face-flat and motionless on a bench. He was dressed in a piloting suit, which was wrinkled and unzipped as if he had fallen asleep while in the middle of attempting to take it off.

Billy buried his face in his palm. "That," He said despairingly, "would be your new commander."

"Lieutenant Aker, you mean?"

"Unless he's dead. I wouldn't be too surprised."

Ruho walked over and took his pulse. "He's still alive, sir."

Billy followed her, stopping in front of the bench before he reached out a hand, tentatively shaking the man's shoulder. It earned him a small grunt, and First Lieutenant Graham Aker shifted weakly before falling limp again, an arm dangling precariously over the edge. Rolling his eyes, Billy leaned over shoved him right off the bench.

He crumpled on the floor, a muffled groan and that was my spine, asshole, before he rolled onto his back and exhaled, slow and painful. "Was that—strictly necessary?"

Billy loomed over the fallen lieutenant, his expression dark. "I don't think I want to know the answer to this," He began sourly, "but just how long were you on the training course today?"

"I wouldn't know. Started around eight, you do the math." Graham muttered, blinking slowly before covering his eyes with his arm. "I mean, I showed up sooner, but they wouldn't let me in."

"And you didn't take a break?" Billy said, more a statement than a question.

"No." He said.

"You're psychotic."

"In my defense, it was a very well-built test course. My self-preservation was enchanted away from me by its intricacy."

"You never had self-preservation to start with." Billy snapped. "Eight hours, Graham. Eight hours. How are you even alive?" He grabbed him by the shoulders and began hauling him to his feet. Graham hung languidly in his grasp, looking too exhausted to spare any effort himself. "And you smell so bad, I don't even—"

"Well it's not exactly perfume I'm soaked in." Graham grumbled.

"You're disgusting." Billy said, nose wrinkling. "And will you stand up yourself? I'm not going to carry you."

"I can't." Graham pointed at his legs, which were tangled messily with the suit that he had failed to remove.

Billy opened his mouth, for another fine piece of outrage no doubt, but stopped as he felt Graham being pulled away from his grasp. He looked to his left and found Ruho standing next to him, carefully looping Graham's arm around her neck as he slouched in her hold.

"I can handle it, sir." Ruho said, waving away Billy's attempts to help as she lowered Graham onto the bench, placing a firm hand on his shoulder before he could fall over again. "You shouldn't strain yourself, sir."

"Thanks." Sweeping a hand through his unkempt hair, Graham glanced up at her, and his eyebrows furrowed in recognition. "Aren't you—?"

"I'm Ruho Watase, sir." said Ruho.

Graham stared at her, before turning to Billy, bewildered. "How did she get here?"

"I picked her up." Billy said irately. "It's four, Graham. You were supposed to go to the airport two hours ago."

"Two hours? Son of a—well—shit." Graham reeled to his feet, suddenly very energetic, but eyes wide and horrified as he stared at Billy. "Really, I mean, sorry Katagiri, I didn't—I'll make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it." Billy said. "It happens."

"But—"

"It happens." He repeated, stern. Graham hesitated for a moment, before slowly sitting back down. "Anyway, I'm heading back to the lab."

"Already?"

"We never know when Celestial Being will strike, so I need to make progress as fast as possible." He turned to Ruho with a well-mannered smile. "It'll be a pleasure working with you, Miss Watase. But for now I'll leave you to sort things out with this unseemly character."

"Hey—"

"If you'll excuse me."

When Billy left, Ruho noticed that Graham was fumbling with the uniform tangled around his legs. "Do you need help, sir?"

He refused graciously, but continued tugging at the white fabric. No visible result. "I pride myself, on being, self-sufficient, after all." He said, teeth gritted, and Ruho waited patiently as he pulled at the uniform to the point of tear.

After a few minutes of effort, Graham finally untangled the knots, straightening it until it was halfway decent before he stood up. He was of average height, not much taller than her, and a lean, wiry build. His face could very well be called friendly handsome—green eyes and short blonde curls and skin that seemed naturally light but tanned and flushed from exercise. "Sorry you had to see all that." He said sheepishly. "I'm guessing you don't have the best impression of me right now."

"I don't have an impression of you at all, sir," said Ruho.

"Nothing?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, I can be thankful for that." Graham chuckled. He scrubbed at his face, damp with sweat, as he backed over to a nearby locker. "So you said your name's Ruho?"

"Yes sir."

"I didn't get much information when I first heard about you." Graham said, opening the locker and pulling out a towel. He turned towards her, mouth curving into a slight frown as he pressed the towel to his neck. "Now that I think about it, you'll have a problem changing here, won't you? There's a woman's locker room of course, but it's located pretty far away from the Flags' hanger. You'll have a hard time dressing quickly. Those Gundams come and go like lightning."

"I don't want to be too much trouble sir. I'll be fine using the men's room."

Graham smiled. "That's quite generous of you, but I'm not cruel enough to let you do that. I'll see if I can get an adjacent room for you set up."

Ruho observed him, bemused. "You really don't have to go through so much trouble, sir."

"No seriously, you can't expect sharing a changing room with men and not getting stared at."

"I don't have any issues with decency, sir, but you wouldn't want to see my body anyway." She said politely, because more than one person had thrown up at the sight of her—perhaps not under the same circumstances, the skin over her stomach having not been well grafted at the time, but it wasn't very pleasant all the same.

But Graham smiled, gentle. "Don't be too hard on yourself. I'm sure you're beautiful."

"Thank you, sir." Ruho said. "But it's still best if you don't see it. For your own sake."

"Alright, I mean, if you're insisting." Graham yielded, reluctant. "So, that means separate changing room, right?"

"No, that's—" Ruho paused, confused. "Um—"

"Got you there." He grinned. Then, before Ruho could protest, "Anyway, as I was saying, I wasn't given a lot of info. All I know is that you were originally stationed in Okinawa and that you're some kind of a "special" pilot, and that you're taller than I expected. I didn't have your measurements to work with, so I haven't ordered your spacesuit yet."

"I already have one, sir."

He shook his head. "The ones our unit uses are a bit different from the one you used." He explained. "The Custom Flag that Professor Leif Eifman modified offered less protection from g-forces. For the pilots' safety, the spacesuits we use contain alterations. They're heavier, and they don't make up for all the lost safety. But if you use your old set, you'll be knocked out in one minute flat."

It was a sensible precaution, true, but death by over-acceleration wasn't a particular problem for her—her body was part metal, there were things that came with that—so she nodded at the explanation and didn't answer.

Graham checked his wrist, only to find that he wasn't wearing his watch. "Do you have the time?"

"It's half past four, sir."

He looked at her strangely. "You didn't even look at a clock."

"I have one built in, sir."

"Built in." Graham repeated, and Ruho nodded again. "Okay, sure? I'm going to go take a shower." He gestured to her suitcase, which Billy had left near the door. "You can find your assigned quarters, right?"

"Yes sir."

"So you can just settle in for now. I'll meet you at the dining hall at five and show you around base."

"You needn't go through the trouble, Lieutenant. I already downloaded the map."

"It's better to see things in person." Graham said with a shrug. "And I need to talk to you. There are arrangements I have to make, so I have a few questions." He clapped her cheerfully on the back, and if that hurt him—her spine had reinforced metal—he didn't show it. "Howard and Daryl aren't here right now, but I'll go find Katagiri. It'll be team-bonding. Afterwards we can raid a bar or something. On me."

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't drink."

"Then you can get apple juice." He said. "I'm sure you can get drunk on apple juice too."

Ruho was perplexed. "I'm sorry, but that's impossible, sir."

"Ruho, Flag Fighters are assigned to achieve the impossible. You should get some practice while it won't kill you."

"But sir, if it's achievable, then it wouldn't be impossible anymore."

"That's going into semantics," Graham said wryly, "which ruins the point."

"I apologize, sir."

"Don't apologize so much." He said. "You're a Flag Fighter from now on. Make sure you take pride in that."


Ruho Watase was looking to be an odd girl, not in a bad way, but it was still her piloting that Graham was interested in. He gave her a few days before requesting a mock fight—she seemed like she needed some rest, so much shadow under her eyes—and when he did, she showed up looking marginally better than she had the first time. Not by much, but she seemed less tired, and Graham decided he wouldn't feel too guilty shooting at her.

He had suited up by the time she shuffled into the locker room, a large brown package tucked under her arm. "Hello, Lieutenant Aker."

"Is that your flight suit?" He asked, tugging his helmet out of his cluttered locker.

"Yes, sir." She said. "It arrived this morning." She set the package down on a bench and unceremoniously ripped through the duct tape and the thick cardboard before Graham could offer to do it himself. That's—tough.

"I hope it fits." He commented off-handedly. Ruho pulled out the helmet curiously, tapping the tinted visor as if prodding for defects. "I'll be outside, alright?"

She nodded, "Yes sir," so he stepped outside and leaned against the wall, absentmindedly playing toss-catch with his helmet until she walked out a few minutes later, properly dressed. The suit was a good enough fit, still loose at the shoulders, but resistant enough.

"Do you have any particular specialty in mobile suit combat?" He asked as they headed towards the hangers. "Melee-combat or long-range, maybe?"

"I would like to think I'm well-trained in all areas, sir." Ruho said.

Graham smiled, amused. "That's confident of you to say. I'm looking forward to getting killed by you."

"Sir, I'd be court martialed for that."

"I didn't mean literally—" He hesitated, before asking carefully, "You're one of those humorless types, aren't you?"

"It's simpler for me that way, sir."

"Huh." He said, leaning back. "I never knew they existed in real life."

"I apologize for destroying one of your life-held beliefs, sir." She said courteously.

Graham groaned. "Now you're just screwing with me."

She looked sort of lost after that.

The large hanger they entered was the textbook picture of industrial life, noisy from the sounds of various machines and the mechanics directing them.

To his surprise, Ruho's Flag was set up similarly to his—stripped of almost all defense, only the barest armor covering the essential joints. It was a sorry skeleton of a machine that remained, unstable and liable to crumble at the lightest impact from a properly advanced weapon. And Celestial Being most certainly had properly advanced weapons.

Nevertheless it was a thing of beauty, and if handled well, bound to pack vicious power for all its lost defense. "I'm impressed." He said, craning his head to scan the suit at its fullest. "You're the first person I've met who'd even consider stepping into something like this."

"And yourself, sir?" She asked, mild, her voice almost lost in the noise.

"Well, I'm not exactly—" He drifted off, then shrugged, a little defeated. "Okay, fair enough. But it's good to have some company under the crazy label anyway. That said, you sure you're up for this?"

Ruho tilted her head, "Yes sir", unperturbed and already tucking her hair together before she slid her helmet over her head and secured the clasps to the collar. Graham walked over to one of the maintenance crew, and managed to get a clearance for one of the training grounds. They parted ways as they entered their respective mobile suits. The thin electronic ladder was waiting for Graham when he reached his Flag. Grabbing firmly onto one of the rungs, Graham adjusted his communications speaker, "Priority, Graham Aker" and the ladder whirled to life, carrying him the long 42 meters up to the cockpit. "Connect me to channel seven."

There was a crackle of static, then, "Lieutenant Aker." Her voice greeted through his receiver.

"Are your preparations complete?"

"I'm running a final scan for output stability, sir. It should be ready in two minutes."

"Understood. Notify me when it's complete." Graham dropped into the cockpit, and the entrance hissed shut over him as the controls shimmered to life. He pulled up a diagram of his Flag's status, fuselage fully charged, conditions all green. Despite its lowered defense, the Flag's power and speed had been amplified magnificently. Billy and Professor Eifman had outdone themselves in tuning this mobile suit, and Graham intended to make use of every advantage he had.