Chapter 21: Roar

"Sir, Transport K32 has launched from Vingolf."

"Very good. Update me again when it reaches orbit."

Julieta watched the aide retreat from her and Commander Rustal. "Transport K32, Sir?" she queried, though she had a feeling she knew the answer.

"One of the twelve units it carries is the Khort Mogoi," he said. "We thought it best to keep it inconspicuous."

Julieta frowned at the polished floor of the command deck. She'd agreed - what choice did she truly have? - to supervise the Khort Mogoi's presence in the coming sortie, which Commander Rustal said would not take long and would barely amount to a skirmish. She understood that it was to test the Pilot's loyalty to Gjallarhorn rather than McGillis - something Commander Rustal seemed oddly confident about. Julieta wondered if the replacement pilot suit they'd constructed for her had any special features that could support his confidence and maybe, thus, her own. Not to mention that she resented being relegated to the position of babysitter in such turbulent times.

"Once the transport disengages the units, you are to escort the Khort Mogoi to the aft flank," Commander Rustal continued. "It shouldn't be long now before McGillis and Tekkadan make a move." He looked out of the main deck window in the latter's direction, though they were still too far away to be seen with the naked eye.

"Sir…" Julieta began.

He turned to her.

"Is it too soon?" she risked.

He placed his hands behind his back and looked away from her. "She volunteered, so naturally we should be suspicious. That's why I have you. Don't worry, there are other security measures in place should she betray us, but she'd have trouble going against an entire fleet by herself, particularly behind its lines. This is, ironically, the best place to keep her."

Julieta supposed it was better than leaving her on Vingolf with McGillis running amok and only a skeleton crew besides. But surely the Pilot would have tried to stay behind, in that case?

"I have my reasons, Julieta."

She straightened. "Of course, Sir." She saluted. "I'll go prepare."

Eugene had only just made it in time. Hidden in a narrow engineering crawlspace, he caught his breath and waited for the roar of the launch to send all sensible crewmembers to their secured positions before venturing out himself. The steam of the crawlspace had reacted badly with the spray they'd used on his hair and it was beginning to rebel in interesting ways; he pushed it irritably out of his eyes. He shut out thoughts of Dr Isaacson's suicide and focused on practically dragging himself in the direction of the cargo hangar.

I have no idea what we're going to do when we get to space, he thought with a grimace. This thing is probably going to the bigger fleet. But, I'll figure that out. Even if we have to leave the Khort Mogoi, I can at least get Artima - it's easier to get a person out than a Gundam. Maybe I can hijack this or something. He couldn't even begin to think about how to get back to Orga.

From what little he'd been able to gather on his run through the Vingolf pilot terminal, transports such as these were relatively straightforward - little more than an armored box with propulsion in the back and steering in the front. They were a utilitarian vehicle designed solely for orbit entry and exit assistance for smaller frames and did not contain much else, including security measures or defensive guns. Small consolation, but consolation nonetheless.

The airlock to the main hold was ahead. Over the roar and the blood thundering in his ears, he thought he heard shots, yells. It was hard to tell. He plodded one mag-soled boot in front of the other with greater urgency, though the effort made his thighs ache. He entered the first half of the airlock with his stolen thumbprint; only when the first half closed did the other half open.

The door parted to reveal chaos in half-gravity. The first thing to grab his attention was the Khort Mogoi undergoing an early disengagement from the travel brace - a slow pushing-away from the row of the other five Gjallahorn units on his left, at this shaking, skewed angle like a shadow rising from a blur of green and gray. The soles of his shoes weren't strong enough for this environment - he held onto the doorframe to avoid rising with it. Then, blood floating in the air, and the sparks of a shot gravity control next to his arm. Another gunshot, another panicked scream, a return shot or two ricocheting off the interior.

Six of the Gjallarhorn pilots had been shot in their takeoff seats, while the remaining five struggled. The twelfth seat was empty. Their double cross-body safety belts were not disengaging, the buttons that would do so unresponsive though they were jabbed repeatedly. Another pilot was shot - more hot blood spurted into the air and slowed to a vivid drift. One of the remaining four had a shaking arm pointed upward to return fire and Eugene followed his line of sight.

Suited in black, Artima nearly blended with the Khort Mogoi as she floated in front of it, Gjallarhorn-issued gun held in both hands. Her face was blank.

"Get us out!" one of the other pilots yelled at him.

"Artima!" Eugene was already yelling.

"He's with her!"

Shit. He pushed himself away from the door to avoid a shot.

Artima had her gun trained in his direction.

She drowned Orga, Eugene suddenly thought, in the nonsensical way that panic inspired. "It's m-" A shot struck him, then a second, and it was only when he felt the pain in his back that he realized it wasn't Artima.

Artima fired directly over his shoulder and through his pain he recognized the sound of a skull shattering. She fired three more times and all that was left was the roar. She sailed forward and grabbed him, pushed off from the doorframe and sailed back toward the open and ready torso of the Khort Mogoi. Once they were inside, its hatch closed like an eyelid. There was a brief sucking noise and his ears popped - airtight sealing, he assumed. Which was good, since there weren't any helmets in here.

"You're stupid, you know that?" was the first thing she said to him. She stowed the gun in a compartment.

"I know."

"Any other idiots with you?"

"No." He hissed with the tugging on his back.

"Bear it," she instructed. "First things first." She pulled herself into her cockpit's harness; the space wasn't very large and Eugene had to angle himself awkwardly to keep out of her way. The harness retracted a little and brought her a small ways off the floor. The roar outside was beginning to subside and there was a clank as the Khort Mogoi fully disengaged.

"They made you a new suit?" he grimaced, looking it over.

"It'll do for now. I'll have to debug it once we're out of here."

"I have your original," he said.

"Not now. Hold on to something and keep as clear of me as you can."

Artima reached behind her and pulled out the large pilot's needle from the wall, positioned it at the base of her skull - he looked away at the last moment but heard it go in, followed by a hiss and a whir, and a series of clicks and clacks. When he risked looking back, he was surprised to see that a perfectly solid helmet had formed around her head. Due to her arm being near him, he saw her suit suddenly contract against her body and she went rigid for a moment. The interior of the cockpit remained lit only by a set of lights behind her - no sign of the normal controls. He had no idea what she was doing or seeing, but when she moved, the Khort Mogoi moved.

Eugene's hands shot up to his ears as there was a tremendous shriek and ripping of metal, a bang, and a decidedly different roar. He then held on as best he could down in the corner - well, bottom edge - of the egg-like cockpit by her feet as she made the Khort Mogoi turn and weave. He watched in the half-light: her movements were little more than a subtle angling of her body, a dip of one shoulder or another. Then, after a few moments of relatively steady flight, she touched her middle finger to her thumb and reached across her chest to her opposite shoulder, pulling something out of a strap there. He could barely see what it was, but she slotted it into a dock of sorts in the concave wall.

"'Touch', initiated," said a voice quietly that sounded much like hers, but was too around him to be.

The thrusters, then the entire system went quiet, and he felt the initial momentum of their flight carry him in their original direction before it subsided. Had they escaped? He couldn't see anything in here. Everything rapidly grew cold.

Artima reached up and pressed something at the top of the helmet's crown, and it collapsed down and backward away from her face but did not completely disappear. She seemed to take a long while to re-focus on him and even then it wasn't complete. "We're in camouflage for now, but still in range of the fleet. If -"

"Are you okay?" he asked. How long had he wanted to ask that? It felt like a stone falling out of his mouth, it was so heavy.

She seemed surprised by his question, and at length smiled. "I will be. You?"

He smiled back - her divided concentration made her look gentler, in direct contrast to the sharp creature in the transport hold. "Yeah," he said dazedly. Yeah this is who I came for. No - shut up! Concentrate! "Well, I'm shot, so there's that, but otherwise yeah." Was it warm in here again, or was it just him? Whatever the cause, it made it easy to think they were safe.

"I take it you're wearing the original suit?" she asked.

Suddenly it was much more embarrassing than even the original onset of the idea. "...Sorry. I thought I'd smuggle it in. Do you...do you want it back…?"

"Not right now. It's actually helpful that you're wearing it. We've got a bit of time. Kheree can see to you. You'll have to help me, though."

"What?"

"If we can wire you in too, she can help me speed up your body's healing responses, or at least limit the pain." She seemed to detect his next thought. "No needle required." She turned and opened a small hatch in the middle of the lights, where the arm-thick wire that attached her brain to the Khort Mogoi's disappeared, and began carefully poking around as if it were a lobotomy. "Go ahead and get rid of that uniform."

In the cramped space, he obeyed. Although it wasn't like he was getting naked in front of her he still felt somewhat embarrassed, but tried to push it aside. He couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but every so often she would freeze or wince, and the Gundam around them would flinch, too.

"We have maybe twenty minutes before I'll need to recharge," she said weakly, her attention still divided. She had pulled two wires out from the main cluster.

"We need to get back to Orga ASAP," he said, stowing the boots and the rest of the uniform in another compartment he found. "Or at least call him." He pulled off his own shirt next, followed reluctantly by his tie, and stowed them too. He had to pause and breathe deeply at the strain all of it had put on the wound in his back.

"We can't," she said.

Abruptly he was thrown back into the panic, the uncertainty. He thought he'd been sure of her allegiance - and they got out of Gjallarhorn's transport and were hiding from them, and she'd brought him with her - but there was a shred of anxiety that he'd somehow still got it wrong.

"A call would broadcast our location, and it's too great a distance to travel right now. Kheree's not meant to travel long distances unaccompanied, even at full power. They'll need to come closer. We'll wait for the sortie and in the meantime, stay where there's prey." She pulled the wires out carefully even more so they could reach him comfortably, and breathed in sharply.

"Does - will doing this for me hurt you?" he asked. "Because if it does -"

"No, it's just disorientating. That's why we have to do this while we can be still, and have less strain on me."

"What if there were two of us piloting?" he burst. "That could -"

"No."

Eugene deflated. She gestured at him to turn his back to her and he did so; she gently pulled him closer. He shuddered a little when her fingers grazed his whiskers. Whatever's out there give me strength, he thought. Now is not the time.

"You'll have to help me," she reminded him.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" He reached behind him, found her hand that held the wires. He pulled them over his shoulder to examine the ends and see what he was working with.

"No."

He smiled to himself.

"But it's worked on someone without any implants before."

"Four hundred years ago."

"Four hundred years ago," she agreed. As he worked carefully to find the best way to connect, directed her where he could, she warned, "This should only be the weakest of links, but there may be some kickback even though we're not doing much. In other words, excess data may still slip through along with the basic commands I give and the access you allow Kheree. It shouldn't be overwhelming since I'll put a barrier up, but I wanted to warn you ahead of time in case you wondered why you started seeing system diagnostics."

"Hopefully my nanites don't freak out."

"They should cooperate."

There was silence for a moment. Her warmth at his back was soothing, but eventually Eugene broke the quiet with, "Hey."

"Hm?"

"You're coming back to us, right?"

Artima didn't answer. He felt her warm palm on his neck, followed by a click, and he lost vision in both eyes. Their tiny world that he was just beginning to enjoy was wrenched from him - or maybe it was the other way around.

Julieta circled Transport K32 in her Reginlaze Julia along with five others. The back portion of the transport ship had been ripped apart, rendering its propulsion inoperable and effectively scuppering the vessel despite the intact cockpit. The pilot and copilot had, at least, been able to relay that the other suit pilots had been killed in their seats and that the Khort Mogoi was gone.

How is it that it can completely disappear? she thought, gritting her teeth and switching from one vision mode to another on her primary display. Not even a heat signature. That shouldn't be possible. All other readings are normal, too, so we can't be jammed. While we had historical records of a camouflage protocol being used, according to the technicians there was no current framework for it, so how… She scanned the bright curvature of the Earth in front of her, thinking. It can't travel far, though. It's still here somewhere.