The Arianrhod Fleet was the main fighting force of Gjallarhorn. Each planet had its own branch including ships and mechs, but the Fleet were able to travel to whichever post needed assistance. There were various branches, the main one being the strongest in terms of sheer numbers. There were 68 ships I could count on the monitors, each having capacity for 10 or more Mobile Suits depending on class and model. They were all aimed at us.
The wrecked Schwalbe and the unknown Suit retreated; though they didn't go toward the Fleet which was interesting. Our three Mobile Suits: The Barbatos, the Gusion Rebake, and the Ryusei-Go, regrouped on the Isaribi. The three of them were all that stood between us and over 68 ships full of mechs ready to blast us out of space itself.
I was a little nervous.
"Shino, are you alright?" Mika checked in. The three of them were close enough that the Isaribi picked up their battleComms.
"Yeah, for now." Shino replied.
The Fleet glittered like so many stars while they offloaded their deadly cargo. Soon the black of space shone and glistened like the sea. Orga's hand tightened on mine.
"There's so many." Akihiro rumbled.
"I almost want to run." Shino said nervously.
"If they'll let us." Mika shot back. I didn't know whether to laugh or shout. They were joking around, the bloody idiots. As if this were some sort of simulation or war game back on Mars. I couldn't help but smile.
Behind us the reporters readied their camera, the woman clipped a microphone to Kudelia's collar and adjusted her hair for full effect before she signaled that the girl was live.
"My name is Kudelia Aina Bernstein. Can you hear me? I'm calling out to every one of you."
Somehow she managed to override the signal blockers Gjallarhorn put in place to avoid this exact situation. According to the camera guy, Kudelia was on every monitor and television screen within signal radius. That included the monitors of the Fleet's very own ships. Meribit even managed to send the signal out over the battleComms as well.
"I want to tell you all exactly what is happening at the Dort Colonies in this little corner of the Solar System. The truth about the people living there."
Orga watched her, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a grim line. There was little he could do, except flat out cutting the video feed and that would only kill us quicker. I wanted to pull him close and wrap my arms around him, to feel his heart beat against my skin and forget the world… but it wasn't the time or place.
"The actions I have taken have all been to help the people of Mars, my homeland. However, I was much too ignorant. People being oppressed by Gjallarhorn exist all across the Solar System. On every planet, mining asteroid, and colony."
She paused.
Only the truly privileged remained ignorant for long. The ones who could afford to wall themselves away, or build their own realities. There were individuals who thought the real world was a game, they were probably the worst of all. They hid behind costumes and parlor tricks and refused to acknowledge the lives they played with.
"At the Dort Colony, I met people who stood up to change the lot that was thrust upon them. They chose to protest. But only after a series of fruitless efforts to have their grievances answered by the Dort Company. The protest itself was merely another way to push negotiations. However, the moment they took action a mysterious explosion occurred nearby. The explosions took place at the exact moment the protestors began to chant, as if deliberate. But, the people of Dort didn't set off those explosions. Gjallarhorn immediately attacked the gathered crowd. This conflict… no, this massacre is still happening."
The ship's warning signals pinged, indicating enemies inbound. I glanced at Orga but he watched the monitors tracking the incoming Mobile Suits. My mouth tasted of copper and iron. My tongue throbbed in time to the shrill siren. The distance ticked down kilometer by kilometer. I hoped Kudelia she wasn't under the influence of a martyrdom complex.
"Right now, my ship is pinned by Gjallarhorn's Arianrhod Fleet. I want to ask Gjallarhorn this: Aren't you supposed to be the ones upholding justice? Is this what you call justice? If so, I will not approve of such a justice. If you disagree with my words then so be it."
Well, shit.
"What's she saying?" Eugene whispered back at Orga. I glanced back at him. He grinned and shut his eye in that way that meant he knew exactly what was going on. He had a plan.
"Shoot down my ship right now!" Kudelia shouted. No one moved or took a breath.
Out on the ship, the mobile suits tensed. They meant to move out and meet the enemy; a final blaze of glory that would only buy us mere seconds. Orga shouted for them to stand down. They listened.
Then something impossible happened.
The Mobile Suits of the Arianrhod Fleet shut down their boosters.
They stopped coming.
They lowered their weapons.
They let us pass.
"What's going on?" Shino asked, "They're not moving."
"She'd amazing," Mika said quietly, "all those enemies we were fighting so desperately to kill. She stopped them all with just her voice." He voiced what all of us were thinking. His voice leaked out through the speakers.
"And cut!" the fat cameraman shouted. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the shout.
"Thank you so much we shot some great footage." There were people who understood how to read a room, and then there were people like this cameraman.
Let me adjust that to include the man reporter as well. The two blabbered on about the wonderful footage they'd shot, but the woman reporter, Jessica, was silent.
Kudelia ignored the two and their antics.
"That was huge gamble you just made with my crew's life." He started.
"Boss…" Kudelia murmured.
"But you won." He smiled.
"Did I really win though. What in the stars was I fighting over this whole time?" she asked no one in particular.
I crushed a rubber ball in my fist. A dull ache bloomed in my arm, joining an irritating itchiness that radiated out from where a bullet ripped through muscle and skin. Both were good, the itchiness meant the Nano-bots were working and the ache meant my nerves weren't damaged beyond repair.
Courtesy of Teiwaz, the Medbay received a few upgrades. Rather than needing to waste Nano-bots on small injuries in the repair bath, we could use a sleeve that stretched around most appendages. It was a formless piece of stretchy plastic with tubes and sensors that hooked into a series of computers and tanks that now lined the walls. The room dimly lit by the monitor screens. Their light reflected off of the soupy gel of the Nano-bot retention tanks and gave the room a blue tint.
On a monitor I watched a list lazily scroll through a series of checks as the nano-bots laid down micro scaffolding and serums to boost cell multiplication. In a way, organic bodies and metal ones weren't so different. They each had structures to hold up the moving parts, series of lubricants, an information system to tell them how to move, and a system relying on tension to make the movements possible. Though, the machines didn't feel pain.
My tongue throbbed where I bit it.
The monitor told me to squeeze the ball again. I imagined it was a tomato bursting, sending red juice leaking through my fingers and covering my wrist in a bloody ruin. The words "release tension" flashed on the screen and saved the ball from the crush of my trembling fingers.
Without the constant pain the world felt jumbled and confused. Pain was sharp and clarifying, like a razor. Without it everything came flooding back in a jumbled mess: from the stinging threat of tears to the cold, knotted tension in the pit of my stomach. Everything I pushed away and locked down was threatening to force its way to the surface.
Amida strode through the Medbay doors the moment they slid open. She walked as though she owned the very floor she stood upon. Nobles and officers could practice for half their lives in vain attempts to imitate her. For fraction of a heartbeat I thought of someone else.
"They told me I'd find you here." The way she said here made me think a lecture was in my future. A chair protested when she dragged it over from beside the door and positioned herself off to one side without blocking my view of the door. She sat in it backwards and leaned her arms on the backrest. Even the casual cross of her arms was regal.
"How are things going?" I asked in attempt to delay the inevitable. My voice sounded thick from the pain-killers the released by the Nano-bots. I winced at the sound.
"Well, I'm pretty sure the half of the crew that wasn't in love with Kudelia to begin with was won over by her performance. You should see them peeking around corners to get a glimpse of her." She laughed. The scar that stretched from her right shoulder to left hip danced and twisted.
"Glad that's not my problem right now." I replied. It also meant fewer people seeing me half dressed with a glowing blue mass covering my left arm from fingers to shoulder.
She frowned, "Certainly not. Tell me how that happened." She waved at my encased arm. So I told her, but I didn't start with the Colonies. It must have been the pain meds. To her credit, Amida sat and listened through the whole story.
"And what was that stunt you pulled? Some way to reunite with your dead parents?"
"No I–"
"Then why did you let yourself get shot?" She spoke over me, her voice like iron.
"I didn't want to lose someone else."
"Aurora, that's not a decision you get to make." Amida's voice softened and reached for my hand, I let her. It reminded me of someone trying to calm a scared animal.
"I just… I thought things would be different. That under Tekkadan… we wouldn't lose so many…"
"Your company may have changed, but the world didn't. This is the way things are for people like us. You're lucky you found this group of guys, there are worse ones out there." I looked at her scar, the one that stretched from shoulder to hip. I thought of a few scars of my own. Orga, Eugene, and Shino tried to protect me when we were younger, but there was only so much they could do.
I tied the arms of the under-suit around my waist. No point in struggling to put my arm through the ruined fabric. I couldn't remember who took my jacket away and my memory was uncomfortably fuzzy from blood loss. My grey tank top managed to avoid most of the blood; only a drop or two stained the hem.
The plastic sleeve slipped off of my arm with a soft sucking noise, it brought most of the spent goo with it. A few stubborn streaks clung to my arm. The new skin was smooth and pink, like how I imagined a baby's arm.
The new flesh was tender and would tear if I strained it too much, but it was good enough. I could probably get into the Bay by tomorrow if all went well. Everything was simpler under a layer of grease.
I powered the monitors down and replaced the equipment. Reusable stuff was put in the autoclave and disposables into a biohazard bag destined for the trash furnace.
At first I turned toward the Bay, but my feet took me to one of the walls of monitors showing views around the ship, Mikazuki was already there. I didn't really know where to go from there. In the Bay I would just be an obstacle, I didn't have a job on the Bridge, but I didn't want to go to my quarters.
He nodded at me; I nodded back. He asked about my arm so I told him it was fine. He stared at me for a moment before turning back to the screen.
Yamagi was handling repairs for the Ryusei-Go, Nadi the Barbatos. Gusion's defenses were good enough that the only damage was superficial. There were a few improvements waiting to be made, but the Turbines' mechanic Eco would be overseeing them until I made a full recovery.
The Dort Colonies were small points of light in the corner of the screen; a yawning field of stars occupied the rest. I flipped between the monitors until I came upon on a view of Earth. I leaned against the railing and considered the blue dot. It was small enough to smother with my thumb. Within the next week or two we would reach its orbit. Not that we had any plans beyond that. Without a reentry vessel we were stranded.
Mika looked up at the monitor, to the small planet that held the ruling seats of the Solar System. I wondered what he was thinking. Was it the next battle? The next job? Was he just getting by minute to minute? It was hard to tell. Only Orga really knew what Mikazuki was thinking, and sometimes even he had trouble.
"Not so far away now." He said.
"Not at all." I replied.
"Do you think she'll do it?"
"Who?"
"Kudelia. Do you think she'll get to her goal?" He pulled a date out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
"Maybe, it's hard to know." I didn't know what else to say. It certainly wasn't impossible. There were few revolutions in recorded history that produced anything similar to what the revolutionaries wanted. Most ended in fire and bloody tragedy.
The silence lingered between us for long minutes, until Biscuit's voice broke it. I didn't hear what he said, but Mika called back a response. Something about new cargo being loaded.
Behind Biscuit stood a tall man in a suit, an expensive suit from the look and cut of the fabric. He wore a golden mask that covered the upper half of his face and eyes, and a large grey wig over his hair. He either was oblivious or uncaring to how ridiculous he looked in the mask.
Mika gave the man a cursory glance before turning to Biscuit.
"Why's the chocolate guy here?" he asked.
Chocolate guy? I glanced at Mikazuki.
"There's a certain mysterious stranger interested in talk of future business. He calls himself Montag and wears a strange golden mask with a hideous gray wig." Amida leaned back and crossed her arms. The Isaribi received his hail message just when I left for the Medbay. He wanted something with Kudelia. She, Orga, and Biscuit met with him on the Hammerhead under Naze and Amida's watchful eyes.
My eyes narrowed, "Do you know who he is?"
Amida waved her hand in a so-so movement, "He's the newest executive to take over a trading business called the Montag Company. They date back to the Calamity war and do most of their business in food materials and metals. Nothing of note on their track record."
"I see," So they're either clean or good at appearing clean. "What was he proposing?"
"Our masked man wants to bring down Gjallarhorn."
"Does he?"
The masked man laughed and the eye slots blinked away to reveal his eyes, blue as an ocean and hiding as many secrets. I still wasn't sure who he was, but Biscuit had a pretty strong reaction to him.
"You! You're with Gjallarhorn!" Biscuit exclaimed. This day just gets better and better.
"What exactly are you doing here?" I asked
The man turned to me, I had the distinct impression of a hawk sizing up a mouse. He smiled, but even that seemed predatory.
"Really, It's very simple. I thought I explained it well enough but I'll give it another go since we have a new audience present: I have a business proposal for Tekkadan. Society is chaffing under Gjallarhorn's collar." He raised his hands and slowly closed his fists, "I want to help the revolution take root."
You want something, that's for sure. Nobody offers anything without a price.
"You want to profit off of the chaos and have a head start in the new future." I shot back. Over and over again it was the same, groups gamble and play both sides of the field to have the best position when a new order was drawn up. Usually they wanted a seat at the drawing board… in exchange for their assistance.
"Why on Earth would you distrust me so?" He seemed genuinely hurt, though his eyes gave him away.
"Why in Hell should we trust a turncoat?" I shot back. If the label wounded him he didn't show it. Biscuit fidgeted, he didn't like challenging potential threats. He preferred to avoid them entirely. Caution had its own time and place.
"As I said before: the current regime is sick with rot. If someone comes bearing shears how can I, in good conscience, turn them down? What I'm offering is a relatively clear path to Earth's surface."
"What are you asking for in exchange?" I asked.
"Nothing that hasn't already been promised to others."
I waited, letting the silence draw out a reply instead. He would have asked for something in the meeting. If he were smart it would seem small at first but would have a large future potential. I tried to remember what Earth's government regulated and what was left to the Martian colonies. We had control of what crops we grew, even though most chose to grow corn for biofuel. Most of the profitable exports were those regulated by Earth, and involved raw and refined material for the manufacture of ships and mechs.
"Like your McMurdo and Nobliss Gordon, I've asked for the rights for half metal mines."
Because of course he had. It was the smart move, the Martian market for half metals would boom if the Earth's Blocs relinquished control.
"Kudelia hasn't made her decision yet, though I'm sure I'll like it in the end. I left behind some gifts to help you and yours in future deliberations." The man brushed by me on his way to the launches. Mika tailed him to ensure he didn't have any detours on the way to his launch. "Farewell Ms. Tantas, I do hope our paths cross again."
I never told him my name.