Nine Jion mobile suits glided silently towards Solomon, cloaked largely in
the debris of the previous year's battle. In his Zaku, Anavel Gato sat
back in his pilot's seat, reminiscing. He'd contributed heavily to the
wreckage surrounding them. Three Federation warships destroyed by his own
actions. On the other hand, not all of this twisted scrap was Feddie. Too
much of it was the sad remains of proud Jion warships and brave soldiers.
He felt a wrench of what he knew was survivor's guilt. Intellectually, he
knew he'd lived and they'd died largely because dammit, he was good at what
he did. Still, in his gut, he held a conviction that this was a
battlefield he never should have left.
Gato squirmed a little in his seat. Iserina was right; it was too small. She'd fit into it, after all, which made him reflect on how undergrown its first occupant must have been. Just a child, really. Sad. So many of the casualties of this war had been like that. Well, he had the chance now to right that, to help put an end once and for all to this conflict and win freedom for his country at long last. Gato gazed down at the photo on his console. I won't leave you a two-time widow, Iserina, he promised.
The goal of the mission came into view. Gato came out of his reverie.
"Solomon, I'm here to rescue you," he said, grinning.
In his own cockpit, Char was trying to stay distracted. He hadn't been in real combat for eight months and he felt rusty. A year ago, he would have been giddy with excitement right now, but instead he found himself afraid, something that never used to happen. He'd never felt the full weight of a nation on his shoulders before, always thinking of himself as a free agent, a law of his own operating within the confines of the Jion military. The Peoples' Republic of Char Aznable, Char Aznable Owner and Operator. Not anymore. He didn't have a picture of Kishiria or Ti-Cas with him; he'd deliberately chosen to go without, not wanting to think about them.
Finally, the tension got to be too much. He picked up a CD he'd borrowed from Kishiria and put it into the sound system. It was a random selection of pieces she liked, and her tastes were eclectic. Much of it was swing or 1950s jazz. Some Motown; "Respect" by Aretha Franklin was on there twice. Then there was a mood shift in the music, and Char heard the opening chords of a melancholy guitar solo. It sounded like one of Garma's demos, recorded when he was in the middle of a black depression:
The darkness when it's ten feet overhead, Grab the reef underneath my bed. Ain't got no quarrels with Jah, Ain't got no time to grow old Lord knows I'm weak, Won't somebody get me off of this reef?*
Char slapped the "eject" button as fast as he could. Ye gods, could he have had a worse omen for this mission? He put the CD away and looked up to see Solomon right ahead of him.
"Sir, there's something wrong," Octavio Duarte said through the radio.
Char called the mobile suit company to a halt. He studied the asteroid ahead. The doors were half-open and light was glowing within.
"Looks like they were caught by surprise," Char said. "That's what was supposed to happen." He didn't sound confident, even to himself.
"I agree with Octavio," said Gato. "Something stinks here. I don't know what."
Char rolled his camera over to look at Duarte's green, red, and white Dom. "Can you tell me what makes you say that? I believe you, but I'm trying to decide on what to do."
Duarte was silent. "Those doors should be open or closed. Not halfway."
Char opened up a channel to Kosell on the Lili Marlene. "We're feeling wrong about this. You're the seat-of-the-pants fighter. What would Cima do here?"
Kosell's voice answered, "She'd do it. She's crazy."
Char agreed. "All right. Let's go in."
They sailed towards the rectangle of light. As they did so, a GM squeezed out through the opening like a hornet from its nest. It was followed by another, and another.
"Here it comes!" Char shouted, and he hit the accelerator. The approaching GM fired off a shot, which Char's Gelgoog dodged. He brought his rifle about and opened fire, straight into the GM's cockpit. Beside and behind him, the other pilots burst into action. Char decided on what he was going to do next. There were still Federation mobile suits coming out of Solomon. If he could catch one halfway out, he could block those doors, stall the rest. The Lili Marlene and its comrade the Musai Vera Lynn were out of hiding, providing cover fire.
"Gato! Octavio! Cover me, I'm going to jam those doors!"
Char's focus narrowed to just that one thing. Would they know he was there waiting? He left himself open as he watched for ten, twenty, thirty seconds...was that all?
No. The head and shoulders of one more suit started to emerge. Char relaxed, let his New Type abilities come to the fore, aimed, and fired at the head. It exploded into a lightshow of electric sparks and the one protruding arm started to wave spasmodically. The pilot would still be alive, and the Feddies now had a choice; open the doors and pull it back in so they could launch the rest of the suits, or leave the GM there, and hole up for a siege.
Then it happened.
They had a third choice, after all. The doors slid open, they left the suit there, and launched twelve more over its broken body.
"They're still in control in there!" Gato shouted.
"Not for long," Char said. "Let's go IN, teams one and two! Three and four, stay with the Marine ships, take care of these sons of bitches!"
"General Aznable! We're launching marines now!"
"Affirmative." Char flew into the open bay over the mangled GM, which Duarte further mutilated with precise fire to the arms before yanking it out of the way The bay was now empty of all but a few Federation personnel who were firing up at the Jion suits with sidearms. Char heard Duarte laughing as they were joined by Gato. Outside, he could see four shuttles coming from the Lili Marlene and Vera Lynn into the open hangar. Federal ground troops started to make their appearance as the first of the marines jumped out onto the deck.
Char had said he would lead this, and he fully intended to keep his word. He unstrapped himself and unloaded the assault rifle he'd brought in the cockpit. Gato's and Duarte's suits were motionless, unable to do anything in close quarters like this. Char opened his hatch and launched himself downward to the deck.
"What the--?" Gato popped his cockpit open and went down to the floor as well. All he had was his usual sidearm, not much good in a melee like this, but better than nothing. He could see the battle continuing outside, with the other warships coming in to engage Federation ships that had emerged from another dock. Not a good sign at all, he reflected. This would not be the cakewalk originally envisioned. He grabbed a rifle from a fallen marine and ran after his general.
"Octavio!" Char shouted. "As soon as the last marines are in, shut those doors!"
"Roger!"
Char tore down a pressurized hallway, followed by a dozen marines with Gato at their heels. Six Federation soldiers appeared and returned fire. Not good, still not as serious as it could be, Char knew. The locked-door attack must have worked to some extent. He and the marines drilled through the six and they kept running, the goal being the command centre. They received little opposition, just a few clusters of soldiers here and there--
Something flew at Char. At first he thought it was a baseball and he thought, are things that bad for the Feddies?
Then the baseball exploded.
Char stood dumbfounded, completely unaware of the sounds and activity around him. He couldn't help but watch as the tears down the right side of his normal suit filled with blood. It didn't hurt, not any more than having been punched in the thigh, rib cage, and belly. He coughed and his mouth filled with blood.
Kishiria, I'm sorry, he thought, and collapsed.
As soon as Char was hit by shrapnel, Anavel Gato rushed to his side, oblivious to the danger to himself. He fell to his knees, knowing better than to move his fallen commander. "MEDIC!" he howled into his microphone. "Oh god, oh god...Char!" He lifted Char's head onto his lap, saw blood bubbling from his mouth. "Don't do this. Don't die on us. We're almost there." He grabbed the patching material from the pocket of his normal suit and began sticking it over the holes in Char's.
Two white normal suits appeared with a pressurized stretcher tube. Gato stood back to let them load Char into it and watched as they carried him away. He turned, full of rage. The Feddies may just have brought down the greatest Jion hero ever, but he was going to make them pay.
"Command centre!" he ordered. Things had to be going better back outside, he realized as more Jion troops joined them. Twenty minutes of sporadic fighting later, they blasted open the doors at Solomon's heart.
The base commander, his grey Federation tunic amply decorated with ribbons, stood to face the armed Jions.
"We surrender," he told them, and sat down again.
#####
Char found himself sitting at an airport bar. The bartender was setting a gin and tonic on the counter in front of him. The muted TV on the wall was showing Jion troops occupying Solomon.
Where was he? How had he gotten here?
"Did I order this?"
The bartender shook his head. "Compliments of the gentleman at the table back there."
Char looked where the bartender's thumb was pointing. Garma cheerfully lifted a glass of beer to him. Char knocked back the gin and tonic.
Garma came over and settled onto the stool next to his. "Hello, Char."
"Hello, Garma. Er. How have you been?"
"Me? Dead."
"Yes. I'm sorry." Char gestured for another drink. "So, am I dead too? That shrapnel looked like it was doing a lot of damage."
Garma took the remote from the bar and changed the channel. The screen showed a team of surgeons working on Char's open chest. "Not yet. You're close though. This airport around you is the symbol I chose to use to represent Death's Door. You're on my turf, now."
Char sipped his drink, feeling completely detached from the sight of his own internal organs. "So what are you planning to do to me?"
Garma's dark eyes fixed on him. "Letting you know that I forgive you."
Char sighed. "I don't deserve that."
"Maybe not, but that isn't what forgiveness is all about. I needed to tell you that in order to fully be at peace. Now I am." Garma looked up at the sceen. "Things don't look too good in that operating room."
Char looked up as well. "That heart monitor just went flatline!"
"Yeah. We better move fast." He placed a hand on Char's shoulder and steered him to a departure lounge. They went to the gate and Garma said to the flight attendant, "I'd like to postpone his departure."
The flight attendant looked up at Garma. "Are you intervening for him?"
"Yes."
The flight attendant typed something into a computer. "Intervention accepted. He gets more time." She glared at Char. "Don't screw it up."
Garma led Char down the concourse. "It means a lot to me to have done that. Not just for myself, but for Kish, and Casval Garma. They need you. By the way, you and Kish make a terrific couple. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks. You watch us?"
"Don't worry, not all the time. Here. This will take you back into your body. I'll warn you, it's not going to be pretty. That grenade messed you up pretty bad."
They were standing in front of the cherrywood door to a first-class lounge. "Do I want to go back to my body?" Char asked.
Garma's expression was grim. "Don't count on taking up sports anytime soon."
"I see. Well. As long as I can serve Her Majesty, I suppose that's all that matters."
"Her Majesty just wants a live husband. Speaking of which, I know about Anavel Gato and Iserina. Tell her it's okay." Garma's voice caught a little and moisture welled up in his eyes. "Tell her I want her to be happy, and that she and Anavel have my blessing."
"I'll let her know."
They embraced and Char stepped through the door. The next thing he was aware of was dizziness, the taste of blood, and the smell of the anesthetic. Then nothingness again.
Back on Side 3, Kishiria watched the battle from a throne at the back of the war room. Hamaan and Cima stood on either side of her. She watched as Char's Gelgoog disabled the GM and was the first to invade. She watched her fleet engage the weakened enemy. All was going well, until a wave of terror flooded over her and she emitted a little cry.
"Your Majesty?" Cima asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Something's happened to Char," Kishiria told her.
"Hope for the best. We'll know soon enough."
The word soon came back from Duarte. Solomon was liberated. The Rockfish in charge of overriding the doors had been captured before the entire program had been loaded, causing some difficulties. Casualties were reasonable and the lists of dead and wounded being compiled. "But ma'am," he said over the video link from the command centre, "I regret to inform you that the Prince Consort is gravely wounded. He is being operated upon even as we speak. It was a grenade, ma'am. He took it for all of us."
Kishiria nodded, then rose from her throne and left the war room. She held herself together until she found a conference room where she collapsed into a padded chair and spent the next half hour sobbing on Hamaan's shoulder.
*"Badfish" by Bradley Nowell and Sublime
Gato squirmed a little in his seat. Iserina was right; it was too small. She'd fit into it, after all, which made him reflect on how undergrown its first occupant must have been. Just a child, really. Sad. So many of the casualties of this war had been like that. Well, he had the chance now to right that, to help put an end once and for all to this conflict and win freedom for his country at long last. Gato gazed down at the photo on his console. I won't leave you a two-time widow, Iserina, he promised.
The goal of the mission came into view. Gato came out of his reverie.
"Solomon, I'm here to rescue you," he said, grinning.
In his own cockpit, Char was trying to stay distracted. He hadn't been in real combat for eight months and he felt rusty. A year ago, he would have been giddy with excitement right now, but instead he found himself afraid, something that never used to happen. He'd never felt the full weight of a nation on his shoulders before, always thinking of himself as a free agent, a law of his own operating within the confines of the Jion military. The Peoples' Republic of Char Aznable, Char Aznable Owner and Operator. Not anymore. He didn't have a picture of Kishiria or Ti-Cas with him; he'd deliberately chosen to go without, not wanting to think about them.
Finally, the tension got to be too much. He picked up a CD he'd borrowed from Kishiria and put it into the sound system. It was a random selection of pieces she liked, and her tastes were eclectic. Much of it was swing or 1950s jazz. Some Motown; "Respect" by Aretha Franklin was on there twice. Then there was a mood shift in the music, and Char heard the opening chords of a melancholy guitar solo. It sounded like one of Garma's demos, recorded when he was in the middle of a black depression:
The darkness when it's ten feet overhead, Grab the reef underneath my bed. Ain't got no quarrels with Jah, Ain't got no time to grow old Lord knows I'm weak, Won't somebody get me off of this reef?*
Char slapped the "eject" button as fast as he could. Ye gods, could he have had a worse omen for this mission? He put the CD away and looked up to see Solomon right ahead of him.
"Sir, there's something wrong," Octavio Duarte said through the radio.
Char called the mobile suit company to a halt. He studied the asteroid ahead. The doors were half-open and light was glowing within.
"Looks like they were caught by surprise," Char said. "That's what was supposed to happen." He didn't sound confident, even to himself.
"I agree with Octavio," said Gato. "Something stinks here. I don't know what."
Char rolled his camera over to look at Duarte's green, red, and white Dom. "Can you tell me what makes you say that? I believe you, but I'm trying to decide on what to do."
Duarte was silent. "Those doors should be open or closed. Not halfway."
Char opened up a channel to Kosell on the Lili Marlene. "We're feeling wrong about this. You're the seat-of-the-pants fighter. What would Cima do here?"
Kosell's voice answered, "She'd do it. She's crazy."
Char agreed. "All right. Let's go in."
They sailed towards the rectangle of light. As they did so, a GM squeezed out through the opening like a hornet from its nest. It was followed by another, and another.
"Here it comes!" Char shouted, and he hit the accelerator. The approaching GM fired off a shot, which Char's Gelgoog dodged. He brought his rifle about and opened fire, straight into the GM's cockpit. Beside and behind him, the other pilots burst into action. Char decided on what he was going to do next. There were still Federation mobile suits coming out of Solomon. If he could catch one halfway out, he could block those doors, stall the rest. The Lili Marlene and its comrade the Musai Vera Lynn were out of hiding, providing cover fire.
"Gato! Octavio! Cover me, I'm going to jam those doors!"
Char's focus narrowed to just that one thing. Would they know he was there waiting? He left himself open as he watched for ten, twenty, thirty seconds...was that all?
No. The head and shoulders of one more suit started to emerge. Char relaxed, let his New Type abilities come to the fore, aimed, and fired at the head. It exploded into a lightshow of electric sparks and the one protruding arm started to wave spasmodically. The pilot would still be alive, and the Feddies now had a choice; open the doors and pull it back in so they could launch the rest of the suits, or leave the GM there, and hole up for a siege.
Then it happened.
They had a third choice, after all. The doors slid open, they left the suit there, and launched twelve more over its broken body.
"They're still in control in there!" Gato shouted.
"Not for long," Char said. "Let's go IN, teams one and two! Three and four, stay with the Marine ships, take care of these sons of bitches!"
"General Aznable! We're launching marines now!"
"Affirmative." Char flew into the open bay over the mangled GM, which Duarte further mutilated with precise fire to the arms before yanking it out of the way The bay was now empty of all but a few Federation personnel who were firing up at the Jion suits with sidearms. Char heard Duarte laughing as they were joined by Gato. Outside, he could see four shuttles coming from the Lili Marlene and Vera Lynn into the open hangar. Federal ground troops started to make their appearance as the first of the marines jumped out onto the deck.
Char had said he would lead this, and he fully intended to keep his word. He unstrapped himself and unloaded the assault rifle he'd brought in the cockpit. Gato's and Duarte's suits were motionless, unable to do anything in close quarters like this. Char opened his hatch and launched himself downward to the deck.
"What the--?" Gato popped his cockpit open and went down to the floor as well. All he had was his usual sidearm, not much good in a melee like this, but better than nothing. He could see the battle continuing outside, with the other warships coming in to engage Federation ships that had emerged from another dock. Not a good sign at all, he reflected. This would not be the cakewalk originally envisioned. He grabbed a rifle from a fallen marine and ran after his general.
"Octavio!" Char shouted. "As soon as the last marines are in, shut those doors!"
"Roger!"
Char tore down a pressurized hallway, followed by a dozen marines with Gato at their heels. Six Federation soldiers appeared and returned fire. Not good, still not as serious as it could be, Char knew. The locked-door attack must have worked to some extent. He and the marines drilled through the six and they kept running, the goal being the command centre. They received little opposition, just a few clusters of soldiers here and there--
Something flew at Char. At first he thought it was a baseball and he thought, are things that bad for the Feddies?
Then the baseball exploded.
Char stood dumbfounded, completely unaware of the sounds and activity around him. He couldn't help but watch as the tears down the right side of his normal suit filled with blood. It didn't hurt, not any more than having been punched in the thigh, rib cage, and belly. He coughed and his mouth filled with blood.
Kishiria, I'm sorry, he thought, and collapsed.
As soon as Char was hit by shrapnel, Anavel Gato rushed to his side, oblivious to the danger to himself. He fell to his knees, knowing better than to move his fallen commander. "MEDIC!" he howled into his microphone. "Oh god, oh god...Char!" He lifted Char's head onto his lap, saw blood bubbling from his mouth. "Don't do this. Don't die on us. We're almost there." He grabbed the patching material from the pocket of his normal suit and began sticking it over the holes in Char's.
Two white normal suits appeared with a pressurized stretcher tube. Gato stood back to let them load Char into it and watched as they carried him away. He turned, full of rage. The Feddies may just have brought down the greatest Jion hero ever, but he was going to make them pay.
"Command centre!" he ordered. Things had to be going better back outside, he realized as more Jion troops joined them. Twenty minutes of sporadic fighting later, they blasted open the doors at Solomon's heart.
The base commander, his grey Federation tunic amply decorated with ribbons, stood to face the armed Jions.
"We surrender," he told them, and sat down again.
#####
Char found himself sitting at an airport bar. The bartender was setting a gin and tonic on the counter in front of him. The muted TV on the wall was showing Jion troops occupying Solomon.
Where was he? How had he gotten here?
"Did I order this?"
The bartender shook his head. "Compliments of the gentleman at the table back there."
Char looked where the bartender's thumb was pointing. Garma cheerfully lifted a glass of beer to him. Char knocked back the gin and tonic.
Garma came over and settled onto the stool next to his. "Hello, Char."
"Hello, Garma. Er. How have you been?"
"Me? Dead."
"Yes. I'm sorry." Char gestured for another drink. "So, am I dead too? That shrapnel looked like it was doing a lot of damage."
Garma took the remote from the bar and changed the channel. The screen showed a team of surgeons working on Char's open chest. "Not yet. You're close though. This airport around you is the symbol I chose to use to represent Death's Door. You're on my turf, now."
Char sipped his drink, feeling completely detached from the sight of his own internal organs. "So what are you planning to do to me?"
Garma's dark eyes fixed on him. "Letting you know that I forgive you."
Char sighed. "I don't deserve that."
"Maybe not, but that isn't what forgiveness is all about. I needed to tell you that in order to fully be at peace. Now I am." Garma looked up at the sceen. "Things don't look too good in that operating room."
Char looked up as well. "That heart monitor just went flatline!"
"Yeah. We better move fast." He placed a hand on Char's shoulder and steered him to a departure lounge. They went to the gate and Garma said to the flight attendant, "I'd like to postpone his departure."
The flight attendant looked up at Garma. "Are you intervening for him?"
"Yes."
The flight attendant typed something into a computer. "Intervention accepted. He gets more time." She glared at Char. "Don't screw it up."
Garma led Char down the concourse. "It means a lot to me to have done that. Not just for myself, but for Kish, and Casval Garma. They need you. By the way, you and Kish make a terrific couple. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks. You watch us?"
"Don't worry, not all the time. Here. This will take you back into your body. I'll warn you, it's not going to be pretty. That grenade messed you up pretty bad."
They were standing in front of the cherrywood door to a first-class lounge. "Do I want to go back to my body?" Char asked.
Garma's expression was grim. "Don't count on taking up sports anytime soon."
"I see. Well. As long as I can serve Her Majesty, I suppose that's all that matters."
"Her Majesty just wants a live husband. Speaking of which, I know about Anavel Gato and Iserina. Tell her it's okay." Garma's voice caught a little and moisture welled up in his eyes. "Tell her I want her to be happy, and that she and Anavel have my blessing."
"I'll let her know."
They embraced and Char stepped through the door. The next thing he was aware of was dizziness, the taste of blood, and the smell of the anesthetic. Then nothingness again.
Back on Side 3, Kishiria watched the battle from a throne at the back of the war room. Hamaan and Cima stood on either side of her. She watched as Char's Gelgoog disabled the GM and was the first to invade. She watched her fleet engage the weakened enemy. All was going well, until a wave of terror flooded over her and she emitted a little cry.
"Your Majesty?" Cima asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Something's happened to Char," Kishiria told her.
"Hope for the best. We'll know soon enough."
The word soon came back from Duarte. Solomon was liberated. The Rockfish in charge of overriding the doors had been captured before the entire program had been loaded, causing some difficulties. Casualties were reasonable and the lists of dead and wounded being compiled. "But ma'am," he said over the video link from the command centre, "I regret to inform you that the Prince Consort is gravely wounded. He is being operated upon even as we speak. It was a grenade, ma'am. He took it for all of us."
Kishiria nodded, then rose from her throne and left the war room. She held herself together until she found a conference room where she collapsed into a padded chair and spent the next half hour sobbing on Hamaan's shoulder.
*"Badfish" by Bradley Nowell and Sublime