It's Called a Tribute


by Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: Feh, don't own Gundam.
Author's Notes: Third installation of this little odd series, now following the first episode since I've gotten a hold of the first DVD! Damn, but I think it's entirely in English, so I can't hear Bright's Japanese voice actor :(. What a bummer. Oh well. Man, but Bright looks so...so...bishounen in his first appearance! ^_^ Yummy!

I'm too lazy to get the exchange between the Zeon Zakus in the beginning, so again, I'm making it up. Same thing with the theme song: I HAVE seen it, and I just realized it doesn't really have any ass kickings or explosions. And I've noticed I'm focusing on Bright a lot...next chapter I'll focus more on Amuro and Frau. Oh well. O_O

On with the fic!

And to the tribute part, to the writer that inspired me: thanks.

--------------------------------
It's Called the Beginning of Episode One
--------------------------------

What with the character introductions being over, the narrator decided to cut the crap and get on with the show.

And to the true spotlight of Gundam: the vast amount of explosions!

Keeping this in mind, the first episode of Gundam now truly begins. First the campy theme song, which, ignoring all the Japanese singing, basically consisted of trippy 70's music, robots transforming and beating the hell out of stuff and the word "Gundam" repeated over and over with Amuro prancing about in his Federation tights followed by nicely-animated Bright that seemed vaguely slashy to the audience. After another round of multi-colored explosions to drive the point home, the theme song mercifully ended: merciful because it bore a faint resemblance to a crazy mind trip that made sense. Mind trips suck when they make sense.

So the story begins...in space.

A bunch of Mobile Suits (fancy words for ass-kicking robots) were approaching the aforementioned Side 7. They were green and big and had spikes and shields and they had ---

Holy shit!!! O_O

They've only got one eye!!!

...

...

Whew...gonna need a breather. Almost had a heart attack from the surprise. There!

These Mobile Suits had one eye each. There wasn't an particular reason for this being so and all I know is that they look pretty badass with that swiveling pink light thing. This thingies were called Zakus. On a daily basis they flew around and blew the stuffing out of things. Also, whenever anyone happened to look at them, their eyes would light up - which didn't make much sense, since the things should have been on the whole time. Of course, it didn't really matter, since they had one eye. Which makes them automatically cool.

There were about three of these guys and three Zeon pilots. They wore green. They were short. They all also bore an intense hatred for leprechauns.

Not that that matters, but...

"Sir, we're nearing Side 7. Orders?" said one of the pilots sitting in a Zaku cockpit. Let's call this guy "Joe". Most people in anime with the name "Joe" have a tendency to die, so...well, go figure!

The commanding officer leaned back in his own cockpit, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to look composed. He failed miserably: mostly because it's ridiculously hard to look impressive in a dinky green space. He didn't say anything because he thought he looked more thoughtful if he didn't answer the question.

The other soldier mumbled something of no importance. His name, by amazing coincidence, was also "Joe"...no, actually it was "Jonathan", but he was always called "Joe". Up to this point in his rather insignicant and boring life, he'd this weird nagging feeling that someday, somewhere, he was going to die. Now, this is something that was pretty obvious and shouldn't have been terribly worrisome, but he always had this ominous feeling that he'd blow up. He'd always figured he'd get run over by some semi carrying mechanical pencils or stabbed to death by a bunch of mimes with sporks, but explosions it was.

In other words, this collection of Zeon men was primarily cannon fodder for the bloodthirsty audience.

The three Zakus were soon in the shadow of the Side 7 colony thingie. Joe (let's change this Joe to Joe 01), was getting fed up with his squad. No one had answered his question.

"Now what?" he demanded. He was particularly nervous because he just had a major case of deja vu: the feeling that he'd been here before. He then remembered that he'd been to Side 7 only two days ago. He'd been looking for some AA batteries. He continued on, as nervous as already mentioned, "Are we gonna attack or what?"

"..." said the commanding officer. Actually, it's physically impossible to say silence, but somehow this guy did it.

Joe 02 mumbled something that had completely nothing to do with the question. He suddenly remembered that he also needed batteries.

"Dammit, what the hell are we doing here?!"

"..."

There was a moment of wary silence from Joe 02: he was busy looking for any random explosions. He didn't particularly look forward to dying today, but the sense of forboding was particularly strong.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Meanwhile, the Zeon ships traveling behind the White Base-that wasn't-Trojan-nor-wooden were still tailing the ship. They were now resorting to loudspeakers in their efforts to get the larger battleship's attention.

"[Unidentified and probably highly-classified Earth Federation ship! Please pull over for an inspection! This is the police! YOUR TAIL LIGHTS ARE OUT!]"

This message blared from every loudspeaker on the ships.

The White Base failed to notice the Zeon. The Zeon continued their demands.

Sound, of course, doesn't travel in space.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

"...Pissed," Bright Noah said. He tried the word out again and decided he liked how it sounded, "I think I'm pissed."

The poor, lowly, and bishounen quartermaster was once again trudging his way through the corridors of the White Base: this time in the opposite direction. This, of course, was the very reason the British officer decided he was pissed. This was a relatively new feeling to the black-haired bishounen - usually he was either irritated or bored, but never really angry. He decided he liked being pissed. He furrowed his eyebrows experimentally and frowned, looking, almost impossibly, even more bishounen than before. Yes, Bright thought, I like this feeling. Being pissed is good.

This little train of thought pretty much explained just why the quartermaster looked as cool and determinedly pissed as he will further on in the story: this can be explained further through the miracles of mathematics.

Without further ado, a demonstration:

Bright Noah + Bad Day + Low Pay x Bishounen Factor = Pissed Bright Noah

And...upon carrying the variable of the bish factor...

Pissed Bright Noah = Satisfied Bright Noah. Therefore, being pissed is good.

Psychedelic.

Now that he had this all figured out for future episodes of the story, he decided to reflect on the reason why he was now heading down and not up anymore. Not because he needed to remember why, but because he had this strange feeling he just should. This strange feeling was also the same thing that made him talk out loud for no reason.

"Stupid!" Bright announced to no one in particular, "Why'd the commander order me to the bridge if he was just gonna order me to haul my ass to Deck 2?"

There was a pause, both the audience and Bright realizing this sounded terribly slashy. He couldn't stop the automatic grin rising up on his face at the mention of slash and for the moment lost the pissed expression, gaining a far more ominous one ---> >:}

"Eh heh heh..."

He then realized that he was cackling over an old man and abruptly stopped, making a face. He decided he had enough of this and wandering around White Base bored out of his mind, and decided to strike up a conversation with the friendly, resident narrator.

"Hi."

Hi.

"How are you?"

Oh, fine, fine. You know how things are, narrating and stuff. You?

"Sort of bored. Kind of lonely, but mostly bored."

Lonely, eh? ¬¬ I can fix that.

"Oh?"

Does meeting an uke sound good?

Bright was so startled that he promptly walked into a wall. It would have looked immensely stupid if anyone had been watching.

"An uke?! When can I meet him?" Bright demanded, nursing a bruised nose and a damaged ego., "Is he really an uke?"

Oh, su-u-u-u-u-r-r-r-e-e-e-e ¬.¬...angsty and short and everything!

"What about whiny? You know the bitchy ones are the best."

Bitchy to the extreme and asking for a slap, Bright. The whole uke package.

"Wait a minute...there's a catch, isn't there? There's always a catch."

Uh....no...no catch. ^_^ None whatsoever.

Bright decided he had something to look forward to, "So when will I, uh, meet this guy?" He sounded perky, for obvious reasons.

As soon as you finish the errand. Guess you won't be so bored, huh?

Bright beamed and nodded. He liked this. A great deal. He was probably so eager because he hadn't gotten any for a long, long time.

Have fun...ah....bonding ^___^

So it was settled. Cool.

So anyway, Bright was heading in the opposite direction he had first started out in: if at all possible, twice as lost as he'd been before. He was making his way to Deck 2 - which, although already mentioned, doesn't mean anything. Mostly because the audience has no idea where the hell Deck 2 (or Deck 1 for that matter) is even located in relation to White Base's ridiculously huge-ass-ness. So it didn't really matter that Bright was headed to Deck 2. All we need to know is that he was going somewhere and this somewhere would become very important.

Bright spent a few more minutes of pointless wandering and not getting anything accomplished. He took several wrong lefts, came back to where he started, took a right, decided he needed a bathroom break, took a left, a right, ran into a closet and backtracked, took another left, went down some random stairs, took a lift up to a few floors higher, and...

Whoa...I don't get how the hell that just happened...

By some freak accident, Bright found himself standing near a large plaque with the lettering "Deck 2". The English man decided he wasn't going to push his luck and entered the said Deck. He spent three minutes trying to push the door open when he suddenly remembered that all the doors were automatic. He punched in the command to open the door. The door hissed open smugly and he had the impression it was laughing at him.

Bright's face fell as he saw who he was supposed to pick up. It was Tem Ray, an old man that did nothing but babble incessantly about nothing in particular. He felt some mild foreshadowing, but mostly he felt upset because he hated babbling old men. And because old men always got the senior discount on coffee.

Bright happened to find that insanely unfair.

He then remember that the quicker he got Tem Ray up to the bridge, the more time he'd have with his uke. That made the situation totally different.

"Lieutenant Ray!" said Bright, saluting: he felt particularly silly saluting because the old fart's back was turned, "We're going through the docking procedure. You're needed up at the bridge."

While he was speaking, Bright realized he didn't know where the hell the bridge was in the first place. Oh crap, was basically Bright's train of thought.

Tem Ray stood up, and nodded. Bright suddenly had the feeling that he didn't hear what he said, because the next question was completely out of the blue:

"You're Bright Noah, right? How old are you?"

Bright couldn't help wondering what brought this question on, but decided that Tem was senile.

"I'm nineteen," he said in that special patronizing tone reserved for the very young or very old.

"You've been in the service for what, six months?"

"Yes, sir."

Tem looked down at the very conspicuous picture frame on his desk and moved away so Bright had a good look. It was a young brown-haired boy with a terribly angsty expression on his face. Bright suddenly had the faint suspicion that hey, this just might be his uke. He wisely didn't say anything, keeping his glee to himself.

"I heard there's even kids his age," a jerk of the thumb at the picture, "fighting in this war as guerillas. Is this true?"

Bright was more concerned with herding the old man back to the bridge than chit chat about the war effort. He stepped aside from the door, not really listening to his charge.

"Yeah," he replied, hoping this answer would shut him up. As he was saying this, the Englishman's mindset ran something like this: oh dear God…I know where this is going…this is always happening to mehe's going to talk my ear off…why can't people like him just shut up for a few minutes? He wondered what he was going to do: he didn't really want to pay attention to Tem's rambling, but he knew he was going to have a long trip with him (Bright still didn't know where the bridge was. He only knew it was somewhere in the Up-ish direction) and it wasn't going to be any fun.

He decided that some non-committal grunts would probably do.

"How terrible. It's a terrible war."

"Yes. Very terrible," Bright mumbled.

"And this weather!"

"Very terrible." Another mutter.

"What rank are you?"

"Very terrible."

"Ah, that's nice. You're a nice, pleasant young man."

Tem babbled and ranted and rambled for the rest of the journey – Bright continued to drown him out.

Bright was bored out of his mind. Lucky for him, the story's just about to pick up.

Game Over or Continue?
>>>>>>>>>>>>
Waigh, sorry, got too lazy to finish the episode! Next chapter! o_O Plus, I've been having some trouble with family affairs, so it's not a good idea for me to start watching the MSG 0079 DVD right now ~_~ Not much to say, other then I'll probably be updating this chapter or adding a new one some time in the future. This chapter's just temporary until I have more time to fix it (thus, very rough, very blegh >_)

Uke (for those that don't know) is the "submissive" and quiet one in a yaoi pairing. Seme is the opposite, the dominating, more outgoing personality (usually taller and older).

Suggestions, death threats, flames, reviews, requests, whatever, feel free to e-mail me at shampoo_famira@yahoo.com or AIM me at S Duo Maxwell 02. Thanks for reading ^.^

- Famira Damaris