Chapter 004/ Endless Waltz III


Disclaimer: I own nothing here except my original characters and the storyline. The Gundam fanchise belongs to Sunrise, the SRW and ACE franchise belong to Banpresto, Nono belongs to Gainax and all references to other series (Irresponsible Captain Taylor, Metal Gear Solid) belong to their rightful owners (Tatsunoko Productions, Konami/HideoKojima)


"I still maintain that we release her." Hassaway repeated. "We given the sensitivity of the mission, we cannot afford to be concerned about the welfare of our prisoner. There is also the possibility of an information le–"

"Hey, hey, little brother…"

"Commodore, while we are in our uniforms, I must insist that you refer to me as your First Officer, your Executive Officer or by my rank."

"Right-o-then, Hassie-chan."

Even Shoko had a hard time resisting the urge to sigh while she watched the two highest ranking officers on the ship bicker uselessly. 'Hassie-chan?' she thought. The guys down in the cage would kill to hear that.

Lieutenant Commander Hassaway Gloval Yashima was a tall young man with pale light green hair cropped and groomed exactly in line with the regulations. His white officer's uniform was in pristine condition, from the dress jacket to the shined officers boots, and his upright posture and stern expression spoke much about his no nonsense attitude. Though a rising star as far as naval officers went for his age, the twenty two year old man acted like older, uptight officers.

Conversely, his brother, older by ten years and two months, was often said to act like an impulsive twelve year old.

Taylor Light Yashima was rarely ever seen in his uniform, often choosing to wear a worn black trench coat he had picked up from some pawn shop, over the old tuxedo he had used for his high school graduation dance. The long pale green hair his family was well known for was tied into a single pony tail, wrapped around his neck life a scarf. The ridiculous yellow swim goggles over his eyes were completely mismatched with the rest of his outfit and the only reason he wore his faded black cowboy boot, with spurs and all, was because regulations absolutely required him to wear some kind of footwear. If he had the choice, he would have gone barefoot.

And he also happened to hold the rank of Commodore.

Well, he was the greatest spacial tactician that Shoko knew, even if he looked like more of a circus reject than the most celebrated dropout of the naval officers academy. How he ever wound up in charge of a Space Ark Class warship was mystery, even to the members of high command.

The wing commander of the mobile suit squadron stood along side the first mate in the captain's cabin. While both officers were staining upright in a formal manner, their captain was leaning back on his desk with his feet crossed.

"Commodore, we have held this prisoner in for over a week now in one of the spare rooms," stated Hassaway. In, reality, it was quite funny how their prisoner ended up in there. The ship's brig had seen so little use over the years that the Commodore had one day waltzed in there, declared that it would henceforth be designated as the poker room… and so from then on, the brig cease to exist.

Not that Shoko thought it was a bad decision; their new gambling room had provided her team members an endless source of amusement over the years, so it was good for morale.

Anyway, when they found the ZAFT green coat hanging onto Shoko's Reishiki MS by her foot, the lack of a proper confinement area came back to haunt them. Eventually though, they found a small crewman's cabin in the far starboard side of the ship that nobody bothered to use because of a broken light and a distinct lack of space and privacy. That had to do for the time being.

Hassaway continued. "We cannot keep this up indefinitely; the situation must be resolved now."

"And how do you propose we release her Hassie-chan?" Taylor pointed out. "We can't just stop and pop open the airlock. And even if we did, who knows what would happen to her then? Maybe she'll be rescued. Maybe she'll be picked up by some people worse than us. Maybe she'll suffocate. Bedside's even if she's rescued, you know her contact with us has compromised her safety. I'm sure the Major agrees with me."

Hassaway and Taylor turned to Shoko, one with a stern demanding expression and the other with pleading puppy dog eyes. Not for the first time, Shoko felt like she was stuck in a tug of war between the two. 'Damn it.' She just came here to let the captain know that the researchers had finally decided to submit their testing schedule of their prototype.

"I have to agree with the Commodore, Lieutenant. If we let her off the ship, she would either pose as a security risk because of what she has seen, or more likely she would end up being quietly disposed off. I'm also not comfortable with that sir." 'Among other things…' she added mentally.

"Is that your professional opinion?" Hassaway"s gaze would have blasted a hole in Shoko"s head if it could. He was certainly not pleased with an additional crewmember, especially one that was an accidental stowaway.

Shoko didn't even miss a beat. She nodded an affirmative. "Yes sir."

"Then what do you propose we do? Keep her in that room until the ship is decommissioned? I know some of the crewmembers have taken to feeding the prisoner like some kind of pet. I have no idea HOW I am going to explain this in my report to High Command! It's enough I have to deal with all this eccentric behavior…"

"I was under the impression Admiral Hanner liked reading about our 'eccentric behavior' over FleetCom." Taylor chimed in.

"This is a clear infringement of prisoner's rights and well being… especially with that incident with Luckfield's… Ugh..." Hassaway tried off as the memories flooded back into his mind.

All three officers suppressed a shudder.

"Um, Hass? You won't have to worry about what we're going to do with the girl." Taylor explained. "Actually after much deliberation, I made my decision."

"You… did?"

"... Since when…?"

"Since thirteen hundred hours two days ago." Taylor stated with a smile. Both Shoko and Hassaway's jaws dropped. "I went down to the engineering and security to get the bugs for my plan all worked out. I thought you two knew about it. I guess that means you to haven't placed your wages in yet. Pity."

Wages? Oh hell, the blasted man had found another way to gamble again.

"… and you saw if to inform us of this… when?" Hassaway gaped at his brother. Keeping things from the XO! What kind of outfit was his older brother running anyway?

"…plan? What plan?" Shoko asked, more concerned as to the prisoner's fate more than anything else. He answer came in the form of the door to the Captain's cabin sliding open.

"Hey Yashima, It's started! Hurry up boss!" An eye patch wearing marine commander called from the doorway. "The pot is goin' to go to one of ma boys ya hear? It'd be a cold day in hell before a kid is gonna slip by mah men."

'... Pot?' Hassaway and Shoko thought.

Shoko whirled around to face the grinning Commodore. She sighed. "So what are you betting on THIS time?"


Samantha followed the girl down the corridor at a quick pace. The ship, at least Samantha thought it was a ship, was a venerable maze of glowing white corridors and interconnecting hallways.

The interior of the ship was unlike anything she had ever seen. Unlike ZAFT warships, this vessel had large spacious hallways that were lit with extremely good white ceiling lights. She could see no obvious signs of any bulkheads either. On top of that, it seemed that there was a perfect 1-G gravity throughout the ship wherever they went.

"Hey wait up!" Samantha called to her mysterious benefactor.

The girl could be no more than fourteen years old. Long waist length platinum blonde hair were tied into two pigtails that swayed behind her lithe form, which was moving so quickly even a coordinator life Samantha had a hard time keeping up. She wore a green beret on her head, something that came across to Samantha as adorable.

"Who are you? Why are you helping me?" Samantha called again.

"Quiet or someone will hear us!" The girl shot back. Samantha quickly clamped up. "Who I am does not matter… what matters is that we need to get to the mobile suit in the portside docking bay. If you can pilot it, getting off this rip will be easy."

Samantha nodded. Thus far they had yet to encounter any other crewmember, for which Samantha was thankful. She and her companion had no weapons on them, so getting caught by armed security was bad... a very, very bad thing.

"Through here." The girl strode up to a door and pushed a few buttons on the panel beside it. Sliding open, the two escapees ran through…

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here."

…and came face to face with about ten armed marines dressed head to toe in full riot gear emerging from the other end of a two door corridor. 'Oh man,' Samantha thought. As the guards lined up on the other end of the hallway, a lone figure walked forward.

A young, bandanna-wearing boy armed with a mean looking shotgun smirked at them. "I am…" a slight pause as his voice faltered. "I am…" again a pause. "…fuck it…"

He took a deep breadth. "I am the evil head of security aboard this equally evil pirate ship that has captured you two! Mr. Boomstick McBadass!"

The marines on either side of him either seemed to be shaking in barely controlled laughter or were shaking heir heads at the idiocy of his declaration.

"Now that you two prisoners have escaped from your holding cells, I'm afraid that, as we are a bunch of evil pirates, me and my fellow associates have to capture you so we can give you long and painful deaths for defying our captain, the evil pirate lord Hassaway, AKA the Stuck Up Slave Driver!" He pumped his shotgun, while trying to hide his red face, which was flushed with embarrassment.

Samantha pinched herself. It was so surreal. Maybe she was dreaming again? 'And what's up with the names?' she wondered.

Pointing the shotgun at them, the bandanna wearing kid finished. "So fair maidens, prepare to have your ass kicked, ATX style!" One marine lost his composure and dropped to his knees. Supported by his rifle like a walking stick, the man made low sniggering sounds "… shut up Ridley!" the kid muttered.

Before Samantha could react, the other girl pushed her back out the doorway in which they can and slammed her fist into the door controls, casing the bulkhead to slide shut between them.

Sam fell, rear first onto the hard floor in the deserted corridor. The sound of the shotgun going off on the other side of the door could be heard. Samantha jumped to her feet and begun pounding her hands on the lifeless door, an anguished cry escaping from her throat.

They just killed that young girl. She didn't even know the girl's name.

Despite the ridiculousness of what had just occurred, that one fact resounded in her head.

She continued pounding her hands on the door screaming incoherently. She did so for almost five minutes despite the fact time was against her. It was only until she could hear the approaching footsteps did she reluctantly peel herself from the door.

She couldn't afford to die now. Not after someone had just died for her. With a heavy heart and tears streaming from her eyes, Samantha ran.


"Chris you fool! What manner of foolery was that?"

"Sorry Ariel."

"Boomstick Mc-What? What kind of foolish name was that?! And did you just swear?"

"Err… no."

"You used the F-word didn't you? Wash that foolish mouth of yours Mr. Heartily! What if Gimmy and Darry heard you, you fool?! If your foolish foolishness had ever influence them into becoming fools… I'd…. Just what kind of role model ARE you?"

"Okay, I got it… mom."

"Don't call me that… and stop foolish laughing and get off the floor Private!"

"Hehehe… Sorry Sergeant Major… heh…"

"And did you just call the Lieutenant Commander a stuck up slave driver? You fool! You do know he could be watching this right? He'll give us swabbing duty for the rest for the week!"

"Would you rather me use 'Irresponsible Captain Taylor'?!"

"…"

"…"

"… Never mind. She's completely lost, but at least the foolish girl knows where to go. Let's just get this over with before I pop a blood vessel from to all this foolery. Now where is my jacket?"

"…"

"…"

"… and she thinks I use the F-word…"


It had been nearly twenty minutes since her companion had been killed by Mc Badass. Samantha was currently hiding in what seemed to be a large laundry basket.

Moments after her flight through the corridors, the ship started to come alive with armed marines with all manner of weaponry, forcing Samantha to actually hide from a passing guard. And she really meant all manner of weaponry.

What rational man trapezes around the interior of a space ship surrounded by cold hard vacuum with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher?

She felt like she was in a game of Metal Gear Solid.

Samantha held her breath as two armored men passed by her hiding spot. Or at least almost passed. Suddenly they stopped in front of the basket. Peeking out from one of the sides, Samantha noted with growing horror that one man was carrying of all things, a chainsaw. 'Don't breathe. Don't breathe. Don't breathe…' she chanted the mantra over and over in her head.

"Darn. The girl ain't anywhere. At this rate, the pot's gonna be going to somebody that ain't one of us." stated one marine, armed with a high powered carbine of some kind.

"…" The other marine looked like she didn't talk much.

"I tell ya Sawyer. If some kid is going to slip by us, the SRT's are gonna be laughing at us for weeks! And we'll deserve it! She's barely past puberty."

He leaned on the laundry basket, his weight coming down on the pile of clothes and incidentally, the person hidden under those clothes. "Goddamn. If it weren't for the pot, I'd wouldn't even consider this game of hide and seek." He lit up a cigarette.

"…smoking…"

The first marine let out a string of curses. "What the hell?! Not you too Sawyer! Can't a decent man get a smoke around here anymore?" He stumped out the cigarette. "Oh what the hell, lets get moving. The girl won't just walk up to us."

Samantha inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She had no idea what they were saying, but at least the lady who spoke through a voice machine would be gone.

"…laundry basket…"

Samantha froze. 'Oh no. Please don't…' she whimpered.

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot. Thanks Sawyer." Before Samantha could even react, a bag the most disgusting, smelly, grimy load of underwear in existence was dumped on the cloths above her. "That's three months worth of my undies. I've been putting it off for like forever. Now that that's done, let's get moving. I got a lot of money…"

The voice trialed off. However it and retreating sound of their feet didn't even register to Samantha, her nasal, visual, and hearing innocence shattered.

It would be a long time before Samantha would work up the nerve to move again.


It was some time before Samantha had finally managed to find her way to the portside hanger. It was thanks to further eavesdropping that she figured out where she was supposed to go.

She never questioned her good fortune when she saw door with the words "To Port Hanger: Airlock and Locker Room" below it. That was fine. But in time, Sam would look back and wonder why…

1. …she never questioned that the door was completely unguarded despite the common knowledge there was an escapee on the loose.

2. …she never questioned that her ZAFT flight helmet was placed on the bench of the changing room, completely unmolested.

3. …she never questioned that no-one overrode the 'depressurization' procedure in the airlock, which took three minutes.

In other words, she would laugh with her close friends and wonder why, oh why she never saw it coming, because in reality, she should have.

"YES!" Samantha barreled through the open airlock into a dark hanger, helmet on. The elation she felt that she was almost home free blinding her to the fact that other than the single machine in front of her, she couldn't see a darn thing. In the hanger a single mobile suit sat in a crouching position, cockpit hatch open.

The Black Astray.

But it was her ticket out of here. Hopping in to the large machine, Samantha mentally ran through the startup procedures of the M-series mobile suits. M1-Astrays were reputedly designed, courtesy of one Kira Yamato, to be so easy to use a monkey would move it.

It was in that machine did Samantha get her first glimpse of an 'alternative operating system'.

No joysticks. No buttons. No foot pedals. Not even a chair… just one circular chamber with a three-sixty degree view screen and an empty space in the middle. "What is this?!" Probing around as the hatch closed behind her, Samantha could see no way in which she could start the machine up, let alone pilot it. "I… can't pilot this thing!" Samantha realized.

"…AAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD WE HAVE A TOUCHDOWN!!!" boomed a voice from outside the machine, causing Samantha to jump a few feet in the air in surprise. The announcement was accompanied by a loud cheering and calls of excitement... and the song Let's Get Ready to Rumble.

"Wha...!? What?" The cockpit hatch suddenly opened and a large spotlight shone through… focused on her.

"And there is our heroine right now!" The announcer, a ridiculous looking man wearing an old coat over a tuxedo and with a pair of tacky goggles on, walked up to her while speaking into a microphone. He took her hand and dragged her out of the machine into the light.

It was then Samantha realized the entire hanger was filled with people. The entire crew, including the armed marines who incidentally now looked quite ashamed of themselves, lined the floor, the catwalks, and every inch of space of the hangar. Samantha naturally froze stiff as a statue.

"Okay crew, this fine young lady is our escapee! She successfully evaded capture from our marine contingent and made it into the hangar; a feat no man, beast or monster has ever accomplished before! Give her a round of applause!"

Once again, Samantha found herself pinching her cheek to see if she was just dreaming. 'It's all a bad dream, it's all a bad dream, it's all a bad dream...' she thought This was… insane. She'd never heard of this kind of thing ever happening before. She didn't know whether to be angry of happy. They hadn't shot her on the spot, but it seemed clear that they knew of her attempt to escape long before hand.

A loud computerized feminine voice sounded from the room. "Time taken for the prisoner to escape, forty six minutes and fifty three point two seconds. Winner of the pot; Science Officer Nono Takaya with an estimate of forty six minutes and… fifty three point three seconds? Wow that was incredibly accurate."

Disappointed murmuring sounded throughout the large hanger. Samantha tilted her head. Pot?

A bubbly pink-haired girl with clover shaped irises decked out in a full lab coat strode haughtily up to the announcer. "No fair… You're a cyborg, chief! estimate is too accurate to be legal!" another crewman in a blue jumpsuit moaned.

"All's fair in love and war." Nono hummed. "So Commodore, what are my winnings?"

The goggled man pulled out a PDA and checked its screen. "The pot amounts to twelve thousand and two hundred union credits… it seems like some people bet a lot of money in this thing. Spend it wisely my good lady." Nono made a victory sign with her fingers to the defeated crewmembers before strutting off, enjoying the taste of victory and wondering what new projects could try next with those winnings.

Samantha's eyes almost popped out of her head. She was… a gambling object? A vision of a rat running through a maze searching for cheese crossed with a horse racetrack came to mind.

"Next up, let's give a hearty ovation for our best performer of the day who single-handedly stopped this event from coming apart, Sergeant Major Ariel Loveless! Spotlights, if you please!"

The large spotlights shifted until the focus was on a young girl. Samantha almost gagged.

Thirteen year old Ariel Loveless, now in a matching jacket to her wing-mates with the wording of "Assault-3" on her shoulder insignia, sighed tiredly. She put away the small book she was reading 'Parenting for Dummies: Digest addition.' into the breast pocket. "If it were not a direct order from you commodore… what foolishness." She folded her arms over her chest about as unhappy about the situation as Samantha was.

Then it all clicked. Samantha tilted her head forward until her bags hid the expression on her face. "Mr. Commodore, if I may ask you a few questions."

"Yes my good friend! Ask away! You are the guest of honor aren't you?" The Commodore responded happily while riding on the euphoria of the moment, much like a clueless tourist who climbed into the tiger pen.

"So, let me get this right. I was captured and put in a cell for a week with no human contact whatsoever."

A nod.

"Then, suddenly, one day you and your people decide to turn me into some kind of… racing horse by getting me to run around the ship for your own sick and twisted amusement."

Another nod.

"On top of that you people further turned this into some kind of lottery where the person to catch me or the person to correctly guess how long it would take for me to escape." A hearty laugh and a firm pat on the back followed.

"That's about the gist of it my friend. My, you ARE sharp." The Commodore's grin was so wide; you could have painted a series of concentric circles on them. Red and white circles. With the bulls eye in the center of his two front teeth.

"And you did all this without even considering the possible psychological trauma or emotional pain this… thing would cause me?"

"Heck no!"

"DIE!" Samantha's head snapped up and belted the grinning face of the Commodore as hard as she could with complete disregard to the fact she was surrounded by his people. This unconscious body of the oddly dressed man hit the deck with a loud thump. Having been quite traumatized by the experience, Samantha needed an outlet of her pent up frustrations.

She saw one.

She saddled the tuxedo clad officer and gripped him by his tie. Then she proceeded to beat him up.

A pungent silence followed, only broken by the sounds of the young sixteen year old girl pummeling the Commodore's body on the floor.

Then someone finally said something.

"…wow, this kid's vicious… ten bucks on the kid!"

Soon, the area filled with the yells of betting and the chorus of, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"


"Ow, ow, ow, ow…" Taylor complained as the CMO, one Rumiko Luckfield, applied a disinfectant to his bruises. Lying on one of the beds in the medical bay, the bruised eccentric admitted that he probably deserved the black eye, three bruised ribs and numerous other injuries the girl gave him.

Considering he was wearing his skinsuit at the time…

They had finally pried the girl's name out of her. "Sam Douglas". She refused to tell them any more though, for she made a beeline for her cell right after putting the Commodore in the medial station. Some were amazed that the girl, lost as she was before, could find her way back through and unfamiliar ship as if it were second nature to her.

Shoko wasn't too surprised. She had a stinking suspicion their resident troublemaker had taken an interest with the newcomer.

Shoko sat at his bedside rattling off the remained of her report. "… she's been in there ever since. Marty and Nono have tried coaxing her out, but she's responded violently each and every time. Not that I can blame her. What you did was cruel Taylor. Were you even using you head when you came up with that harebrained scheme?"

"Do I ever use my noggin?" A loud groan from his subordinate. "Anyway, what do you plan to do next?"

Shoko sighed in exasperation. "She's been in that room for eight days. Now that you've given her free roam around the ship, I plan to make sure that she at least gets a proper room. Sleeping in a fetal position all those times cannot be good for her."

"There, all done." Rumiko clapped her hands together now that her patient was all bandaged up. "Alright commodore, the medicine I've given you should have you up and about in a day."

The Commodore shot the blue haired doctor a warm smile. "Why thank you doctor!" Rumiko blushed at his delighted face. Turning back to Shoko, Taylor's expression shifted into a rare serious one. "So? What is your evaluation of the girl?"

Shoko shrugged. "She's impulsive. She rarely thinks before she does anything. She has a lot of drive, but this more often than not leads to her recklessness. Absolutely no control over her emotions… However, she does seem to care about people she considers to be her comrades, as shown by her outburst at Ariel's supposed death. That is a huge plus in my book. She also seems to have a problem with focus. All in all, a total idiot."

Shoko shrugged.

"I'd say she'll fit right in with the crew."


Samantha sat huddled in the corner of her prison, still in her grimy flight suit. She's switched off the lights and hadn't accepted a single morsel of food or drop of water from them since they finally decided that the Commodore had enough punishment and pulled her away from him.

Jerks.

Her fear of death had long been overcome by the outrage at the awful joke that had pulled on her. How could they treat her like some prize horse? It was degrading and humiliating. They even had the nerve to tell her she was free to roam the ship as she pleased now.

What was she? Some kind of pet animal?

"I hope my sister comes in and kicks all your sorry butts." Samantha whispered. She refused to even give them her full name, instead going by an alias, Sam Douglas. Unoriginal, but it got the job done.

The door to her room slid open and light poured into her tiny corner of the world.

Samantha pulled her legs more tightly to herself and tired her hardest to tune out the inevitable drivel they would put forward to her about needing to get out and stretch. Like she'd believe them… the stupid terrorists.

Clink.

The sound of something been placed on the floor of her cell was heard. Then the sound of the sliding door closing followed.

More food? Ha! She'd rather starve to death than accept anything from them.

Once again silence followed…

Okay, maybe just a peek. Samantha shifted her eyes from her huddled form to the single plate of dessert that was lying innocently on the floor.

For a moment, comprehension eluded her.

It was impossible.

It was impossible.

On the floor lay a single plate of cookies and cream cheesecake…

…with two strawberries on the top.


+ Poor Shooting Star. I was quite sadistic wasn't I? In any case, the crew of the Kurogane acts likes the crew of the Soyukaze from Irresponsible Captain Taylor. Complete disregard for common proprietary, habit of inducting enemy officers and spies into their ranks, habitual gambling, the list goes on…

+ As before, Ariel is a mix of Elsa de Sica from Gunslinger Girl, Lamina Loveless, Axel Almer, Latooni and one Franziska von Karma from Ace Attorney. This is due to plot reasons, she has one of the more intricate plot arcs of the OCs, but the Von Karma-Parenting Guide thing is so she can have an odd quirk, like all the other members of the Kurogane.

+ Nono isn't a character reference. She's much more mature and smart than her canon counterpart, but she isn't a character adaptation. She just got her memory back and grew up a little. It wasn't hard to work her in here.

+ Martin Marty McFly's name comes from Back to the Future. His character role is equivalent to that of one Maria Radam.

+ While plot wise Chris is "Kyosuke Nanbu", I picture his personality to be closer to Duo Maxwell from New Mobile Report Gundam Wing or even Excellen herself. Hence the 'foolish foolery'.

+ The Kushua is in charge of the medbay. It could be worse. Leona could be in charge of the kitchen.