Waaaaahhh!!! Sorry about the obscenely long wait, people! I appreciate every little bit of your patience, if any of you are still reading this thing... I'm not making any promises, but I'd like to wrap this up within this Christmas season... Ugly database project permitting... eugh... Anyway, Milli-boy gets a taste of Zechs Merquise's work environment, and even gets his five minutes of fame, to boot! Enjoy...

Chapter 6: All in a Day's Work... Half, Actually

The clock read 9:00 am, and a rather misplaced Milliardo Peacecraft poked around uncomfortably in the somewhat understated office that was supposed to belong to Captain Zechs Merquise, Chief of the Martian Preventers chapter. Not a leather chair, not a flat-screen monitor, not even his own personal printer, if one didn't count the painfully slow, ridiculously obsolete colour bubblejet clunker sitting (or rather, hiding in shame) underneath the computer desk. Just where he would have normally stretched his legs, might he add.

He decided that he would talk to Relena immediately upon his return to lobby for a budget increase for the Martian headquarters. He tsked a bit at the clutter on the desk, plopped down on the IKEA swivel chair, and dove right into the paperwork. It came to him as a bit of a surprise that a relatively "lowly" Preventer agent from Mars would have as many administrative headaches as a globe-trotting diplomat. In fact, he was ready to concede within the first ten minutes that maybe, just maybe, he had been underestimating Zechs Merquise's career choice.

Looking through the various files, he immediately got the sense that, while violent crime was not exactly rampant, Mars appeared to be a haven for the pot-growing business, much to the Preventers' consternation. It made total sense to him, as he remembered from his Terraforming days that, for the first year or so, the new settlement had to be developed entirely underground. Now that the inhabited core was completely above ground, weather-controlled, with breathable air and relatively Earth-like temperatures, there was an entire city sitting just underneath the surface, virtually unused. That, and plenty of people who had been around long enough to be familiar with the network of passageways and chambers just waiting to be exploited for profitable, if only not entirely legal, ventures. It was actually quite entertaining to read through the reports of the latest "greenhouse" busts, since the sheer creativity and ingenuity involved in most of those so-called projects was impressive to say the least.

After all, Mars did have the highest concentration of engineers and otherwise technically inclined people in all of the ESUN... A Geek Planet, as Duo Maxwell was so fond of saying just to bug Noin. And, had he not spent the past couple of days on it, he might as well have agreed. In truth, he had to admit that, as different as Mars was from Sanq, he was oddly fascinated with it. He looked outside to the bright sky, all remains of the blood-red, deadly atmosphere long gone. Instead, the sun was shining, making the snow-laced trees of Killarney Park glitter, much like in those winter wonderland Christmas cards that he received every year in the mail from his dentist, his lawyer, the Earl and Duchess Van Der Schnobb (or something dreadfully similar to that), and goodness knows whoever else.

He found it rather refreshing to be in a city where the skyscrapers could be counted on his fingertips, organic produce was the hottest export, and women could go jogging after dark and have nothing to fear other than, maybe, the neighbourhood skunk out on the prowl (apparently, Noin did not find it very funny at all since the family cat got sprayed...). Plus, not having to wear a suit and tie every day had its definite advantages, as he was beginning to rediscover. After years of absurdly impractical, if only very dashing, OZ uniforms, the more utilitarian Preventer uniforms had been a welcome change, at least until he had resumed his high-profile position as Relena's associate.

He jumped a little as the phone rang, unsure of whether he should be answering it.
"Suck it up, Peacecraft," he steeled himself, and resolutely picked up the receiver, hell-bent on keeping up the charade.
"Uh... Captain Merquise, we've got a situation here," he recognized the young Preventer by the name of Adrian, still composed if only decidedly uncomfortable.
"What can I do for you, Agent Neufeld?" he inquired calmly, as the adrenaline mounted slowly but surely.
"I think you better get down here, sir," Adrian replied, as a female scream, followed by a string of curses, was heard in the background. He could hear Adrian's voice fumbling as he instructed someone to "Breathe, just...errr, breathe, ok?"

Upon inquiring about the location, Milliardo quickly learned that:
a) it was not uncommon for the Preventers to cover both fire-fighting and paramedic duties, especially over the major holidays when both departments were critically understaffed, and
b) Adrian was currently about 10-12 blocks down the street, right in front of the main mall entrance, on paramedic duty. He had no way out of the traffic-jammed street, since a large department store delivery truck had skidded on the icy road and collided with a bus, and both were now stuck at a rather weird angle, effectively blocking all lanes.
c) While nobody on the bus or the truck was injured, he had a labouring woman in his ambulance, who had been Boxing-Day shopping until her waters broke. He was currently being helped by a nursing student visiting from Earth, who just happened to be shopping in the same store when it all happened.

Now his heart was really thumping... He hastily threw on his coat and made a mad dash towards the scene, all thoughts of his complete lack of experience in that field shoved aside by the urgency of the situation. Like it or not, Milliardo Peacecraft was still very much an adrenaline junkie.

He arrived on the scene, huffing and puffing from the race, only to be literally assaulted by a camera crew from the local TV station, who happened to own office space in the building across the street. He unceremoniously shoved the reporters aside, yelling for them to let the Preventers do their jobs, and made his way towards the ambulance. It was then that the patient let out another bellow, again cursing like a sailor and whacking poor Adrian upside the head as she proceeded to growl, "What the hell do you think I'm doing? I AM breathing! Now, how about some goddamn Demerol?!"

Adrian looked rather relieved as Milliardo climbed in and attempted to reassure the lady by giving her his credentials.
"I don't care if you're the Freaking Pope, I want my Demerol," the patient snapped, "I was supposed to have this kid with an epidural, and this jackass, here, keeps telling me that he can't give me anything, not a single thing, for the pain!" The angry outburst soon turned into a frightened wail as another contraction began. Milliardo stared at the now frail-looking woman for a brief second, completely clueless as to how to proceed, just as Adrian defended himself, waving about a vial of morphine, rambling on about how he obviously could not give her that because it was bad for the baby, and how the closest thing to pain relief that was on hand was some aspirin, which the woman happened to be allergic to.

"Hold her hand," Milliardo instructed his subordinate, recalling how that always seemed to help in movies. He then could not think of anything better than to lean over the patient and stroke her hair, telling her that she was going to be alright, and asking her what she was going to name the baby. For his part, Adrian just sat and rolled his eyes, dutifully holding the woman's hand, expecting the next outburst of verbal abuse any time now. Instead, he was quite surprised to see the patient soften up, almost smiling through the pain, as she proceeded to list out all the possibilities, and ask Milliardo for his own opinion of whether he preferred Angelica or Angelina.

Yet Milliardo knew that he could not keep her relaxed and chit-chatting about baby names for much longer. Even without having any specific knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth, he had been timing the contractions, and knew that they were definitely growing closer together, each one longer and more intense than the previous. Soon, he would have to actually do something other than verbal reassurance. He craned his neck outside the ambulance to see how much longer it would be before the accident was cleared, and the road to the hospital was once again open. He could see officer Gary Sorensen, Adrian's partner, gesticulating madly as a large group of people pushed and shoved in an effort to make the bus budge. Not a chance in hell, he decided, breaking into a cold sweat. He would have to deliver the baby himself.

"Captain, I feel like I've gotta push," the dreaded words brought him back to reality with a vengeance.
"Now?" he only managed to squeak, just as Adrian suggested that he check whether she was indeed dilated enough to do so safely. He paled, audibly gulping before he proceeded to move over to the patient's feet. Oh, he really wasn't the right person for the job, he thought as he sweated profusely, white-knuckled hands gripping his knees for dear life.

"Hold on there, brother," a young female voice rang behind his shoulders, and he turned around to see none other than Noin's little step-sister, Elisa, with Mariemaya in tow, both young women looking quite disheveled as they ran with their brimming shopping bags.
"Lise? What are you doing here?" Milliardo fretted, as he saw the girl climb into the ambulance and shove him out of the way.
"Nursing student, remember?" she grinned as she proceeded to snap on the latex gloves and examine the patient, "10 centimeters and fully effaced, I'd say you're ready to rock, girl!"
"Oh, happiness and joy," the patient commented sarcastically, while panting through a particularly nasty contraction, "Where the hell were you? You said you'd only be a couple of minutes!"

By then, Milliardo was so confused that he barely even noticed a rather pale Mariemaya squeezing in past him, reaching into a shopping bag, and lighting up a stick of incense. She then passed Adrian a plastic cup filled with ice chips, and a terry facecloth, and wiggled herself towards the driver's seat to put in a CD. As the relaxing new-age music began to play, she whispered something about visualizing a "happy place", then began chanting along as she rubbed lavender-scented massage oil onto the lady's temples. Soon, everybody else on board, including the labouring patient, had joined in the same repetitive melody. Milliardo felt more than a little silly as his deep baritone voice sounded out syllables that made no sense whatsoever, but he had to admit it really seemed to bring the woman relief, for some bizarre reason. Strangely, he himself wasn't feeling quite as nervous, even as Elisa motioned for him to join her at the patient's feet, then instructed her to start pushing with all her might. Following Mariemaya's lead, everyone in the ambulance began chanting louder, as if to cheer the mother and baby in their efforts.

Milliardo felt a wave of dizziness as the baby's head began to crown and, had he not been sitting down, he knew his legs would have very likely given way. Elisa, for her part, offered an excited ear-to-ear grin, instructing for another big push.
"You know," she began in a rather proud tone, then gestured towards Milliardo, "this guy here is a pro at this kind of stuff," just as Milliardo's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Last year," she continued, "he delivered my nephew in the back of an ambulance, just like this one."
"No kidding!" the patient exclaimed while groaning through the effort. For his part, Adrian nodded his assent in silence.
"Yeah, like, my sister teaches at the college, right?" Elisa rambled on, "Well, that day she was supposed to give a midterm, except she woke up, and she had the darndest backache, exactly like you."
"So... pant, puff... grrrrr... did she still go in to work?"
"Yup. And she started having contractions, too, right in the middle of the exam. So you'd figure she'd, like, call it off and go to the hospital, right? That would make sense, but... Nooo, soldier-girl, she was in the military, you know... she's tough! She thinks that rescheduling and coming up with a whole new set of test questions would be a total pain in the butt, and that her students wouldn't be too happy with her, either, so she decides to suck it up and wait until the end of class. Besides, she figures it took her about 10 hours to get going for her first kid... Vicky, my niece, she's such a cutie... so she's like, 'Nah... oodles of time...' Right, Zechs?"

"Oh, dumb... huff, puff... auggggghhh.... What was she thinking?"
"That's what I said, too. Except, by the end of class she was really hurting. So she calls up an ambulance, 'cuz she was actually gonna drive herself an' all, if a student hadn't happened to notice her all pale, hunched over the desk and breathing Lamaze-style, and put two and two together. Anyway, Zechs is on paramedic duty that day, and he's doing rounds with Adrian, la-la-la, everything's cool, just as they hear the radio call go out for a bus to go to the Mars College campus to pick up a woman in labour. Well, let me tell you... he freaked!"
"Oh, yeah," Adrian added emphatically, "Ma'am, I'm lucky to be alive! We were just casually cruising down Grafton, and all of a sudden he goes 'WHAT?!!' slams on the brakes, and pulls a U-turn, right as a big-ass truck was coming in on the other lane... Anyway, the guy barely misses slamming into us by inches, he honks, gives us the one-fingered salute, the whole works, and we're like, full sirens on, blasting towards the college..."

By then Milliardo was full-on blushing crimson, having forever compromised his perfect record of cool-as-a-cucumber, almost Vulcan-like composure in the face of highly stressful situations. Oh, well, he sighed inwardly, even the unflappable Heero Yuy melted into a big puddle of goo when it came to fatherhood. At least his battlefield record was still intact...

"Ok, sweetie, one more push, that's it, I promise," Elisa interrupted, then resumed the chattering, "So they get there, right? And by then Lucy, my sister... name's Lucrezia, but we call her Lucy, or Lu, she's pacing around in the freezing cold, leaning on her student and chanting weird stuff at every contraction, and practically ready to pop any second. Her student's terrified, poor guy, and Zechs starts yelling at him for not having her sitting down inside where it's nice and warm, and of course he starts yelling back to defend himself, and she's like, 'Uh... hello... some help here?'"
"Aw, man... hiss, grrrr... that's gotta suck... aurrrrrrrrrggggh!"
"Oh, you bet it sucks. Betcha if there's ever a third kid, she won't be dilly-dallying around before getting herself to the hospital... So anyway, they get her settled in the ambulance, and figure that there is no time to make it to the hospital, because this kid wants out right now..."
"God, I can so... hmmmmphfff... relate to that..."
"Ok, this is it... Gimme one last big push..."
"Hey, didn't you say that a while ago? Huff, wheeze... Alright, here goes... Nnnnnyyyaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghh!"

Outside the ambulance, the surrounding crowd broke into a loud cheer and round of applause as Captain Zechs Merquise and his sister-in-law, eighteen-year-old nursing student Elisa Noin, made their appearance, grinning ear-to-ear and holding a wailing pink bundle, whom they introduced as Miss Angelina Johnson.
"Hey, cool! Like the Quidditch player," a child's voice rang out amidst the crowd. Camera flashes blasted left, right, and centre, just as microphones were shoved right in their faces, each reporter wanting the privilege of the first recounting of such a heroic act.

"Uh... I really didn't do a whole lot, other than catch the baby," Milliardo stated calmly, if only a bit sheepishly. For all answer, a group of young women in the crowd whooped and whistled even more loudly, some even going as far as grabbing lingerie from their shopping bags and tossing it in the air, professing their undying love for the platinum-blonde, devilishly sexy Preventers Captain.
"Ooookay then..." Elisa quipped, "man, that's just freaky..."

"It was Miss Noin, here, who kept the patient focused and in high spirits the whole time..." Milliardo added for the camera.
"And my best pal Mariemaya Khushrenada, who worked some pretty awesome aromatherapy magic," Elisa was quick to add, as she proceeded to drag the other blushing eighteen-year-old redhead into the spotlight. From inside the ambulance, a shrill holler was heard,
"Hey! What about me? I worked my ass off too, you know!"

Just as Adrian wheeled a beaming Mrs. Johnson into full view, and Milliardo settled the newborn baby girl into her mother's arms, Elisa eeped as a red, lacy bra hit her full in the face, then commented to her crimson-faced brother-in-law,
"Good grief, Zechs... You're like a freakin' rock star on this planet..."
Then, glancing down at her boots, "Eeeurgh, is that underwear? Gross!"

***************************

He had to literally squeeze himself into his office and lock the door to escape the crowd of rabid fan-girls and blood-sucking reporters who insisted on ignoring mother, child, and anybody else who had a hand in helping the delivery, in favour of His Royal Hotness. He now knew for a fact that he had completely underestimated Zechs Merquise's job. In comparison, he felt rather like an overpaid, posh diplomat sissy, who had completely lost touch with what it's like to affect people's lives on a daily basis. And now, his stint as Captain Merquise, Preventer-firefighter-paramedic extraordinaire, had re-ignited just that very basic, undeniable need for action and adrenaline that he was oh-so-very familiar with in his combat days.

Except, the whole situation unfolding behind his office door was beginning to feel decidedly silly, if not totally surreal. Used as he might be to basking in the limelight, he could only wish for one thing at the moment: normalcy. That, and a fast mobile suit... and maybe some food, as it turned out to be lunch-time...

Just then, his cell phone rang. Groaning and barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the monitor, Milliardo picked up, ready to yell at whoever was arrogant enough to use his private line to bug him. Instead,
"Hey, Z. Forgot your lunch bag again," Noin's cheery voice greeted from the other end. He sighed relief, and began to explain that he was in the middle of a rather sticky situation.
"Lemme guess," she suggested, "you're making the 6 o'clock news again..."
"Yup... I take it you're not surprised..."
"Downright shocked and appalled... Not! So who'd you save this time?" she inquired playfully.
"Oh, just... helped a lady in labour... Nothing much... your sister was the real hero, actually..." he replied tiredly.
"But instead, they're bugging you..." Noin added sympathetically, then, "Come on, I'll be there in 5 to pick you up, and we'll go have lunch at our secret spot!"
"Luce, sounds lovely, but have you seen the traffic around here? Honestly, I don't think..."
"What traffic? I'm taking the 'Geese for a spin before demo-ing it out to the board... can you believe they want to call my new class PMS101? I mean, hello? Who in their right mind would want to sign up for that? I suggested PAMS, as in Peaceful Applications of Mobile Suits, but... oh, well... Meet you on the rooftop in 5?"
"It's a date," Milliardo grinned, suddenly feeling giddy as a schoolboy.

He grabbed his coat, sneaked out onto his balcony, and made a dash for the utility staircase all the way up to the top of the building. Feeling the butterflies in his stomach, which he could not quite tell if due to hunger, excitement, his latest silly crush on Zechs Merquise's wife, or a mix of all three, he stood tall, staring into the sun as the familiar silhouette of the Tallgeese appeared, doing pirouettes and other silly aerobatics as it drew nearer.