-Ptolemaeus Lunar Base, August 5, C.E. 71, 2000.
The Lunar Base was unusually quiet. While it was technically the middle of the night, people still were usually on duty at this time, but no one seemed to be about. Crews slept soundly inside their barracks and soldiers on the night shift had little to talk about at this point. Since the start of the war, this base had been a focal point for ZAFT attacks. However, as of today, things had been quiet for some weeks now, and little activity was being done at this moment.
Inside one of the massive docks of the base, the Valiant slept soundly nestled inside the rock formations of the moon. The ship had been stationed at the base since its arrival on the 29th of July, a week ago. All told, the ship and the young crew had gone through one training simulation and had done alright, but nowhere near what General Bradford expected them to. The Strike Daggers had performed beautifully, but the mobile armors failed to achieve their objectives on the simulated battlefield, which hurt the mother ship's overall performance, and the simulation had ended in failure.
That was three days ago. On this night, the crew was preparing for another simulation run the following morning. Above the lunar surface, Jessie was at the controls of her Strike Dagger, gliding along the Moon's rocky surface. Her wingmate, a Chinese man named Keryuoko, stuck close to her starboard as they chugged along the desginated airways that were proven safe for travel along the surface. It was late, and Jessie barely was able to hold back a yawn as she pushed the Dagger closer to the surface of the Moon, Keryuoko following in her wake. The mobile suit's systems were working to perfection, since she had practically spent the previous day working on her machine, while the mechanics were busy elsewhere. She tested the Dagger's beam rifle on several rock formations on the surface and executed her shots with striking accuracy. She heard Keryuoko whistle in awe through her headset. "Unbelievable, Lieutenant. You struck every single one dead on. How'd you do that?"
"Practice, Keryuoko," Jessie replied. "You can do that too, if you just practice enough." She glanced at the chronometer on her mobile suit's diagnostic board and saw that it was around the time they were scheduled to return to the ship. "It's getting late Keryuoko, let's head back. Stay on my wing, alright?"
"Affirmative," her wingmate sent back. Jessie altered their course and headed back towards the main portion of the base. On their way, the two Strike Daggers soared above the remnants of the Endymion crater, where the primary action of the Grimaldi Front had taken place a year earlier. It was here that the legendary Hawk of Endymion, Mwu la Flaga, had successfully defeated five ZAFT GINN's all by himself, after the other members of the legendary Moebieus Squadron of the Earth Forces had all been shot down. Although the battle had ended in defeat for the Earth Forces, all of the ZAFT units were mysteriously wiped out after the battle was concluded, and no one know exactly why or how it had happened.
After a few moments, the main complex of the Lunar Base was visible from her cockpit, gray buildings jutting out against the barren, rocky surface. Antannaes stuck their slim figures into the black sky, searching for incoming friendly craft or hostile forces. Lights blinked from inside the buildings, providing at least some variance in color against the gray backdrop. Jessie could see ships leaving from the main dockyards and repair facilities, their engines glowing in the airless atmosphere and disappeared into the black sky. Large warships orbitted the main complex, from small 130-class ships, to giant Agamemnon-class battleships, all with their crews on stand-by alert in case of an attack from ZAFT, which was almost anticipated as happening every single day. Smaller mobile armors flew past the two Strike Daggers as they entered the air-defense space of the base.
As they neared the docks, the controller's voice came over the radio. "Incoming Strike Daggers, please transmit your identification code for dock."
"I.D. number two-five-three alpha N, Lieutenant Jessica Mitchell, 5th Orbital Fleet."
"I.D. number six-six-one beta G, Crewman 2nd Class Keryuoko Hajimusha, the same."
"I.D.'s confirmed. You have clearance to land aboard the Valiant at berth number twelve. Please disengage your weapons at once and turn on your guide lights. Have a safe landing."
Berth number twelve was on the northern side of the complex. The Valiant was docked there due to a malfunction in the engines that had occurred during the simulation three days ago. While it hadn't been his fault, Captain McKinley had accepted the blame for what had happened, and had the base commander come down on him for inappropriate decision making during the simulation. After what had happened between their first encounter, Jessie had just viewed Captain McKinley as another perverted male soldier who only saw women for their bodies, most of the time without clothes, and she had avoided him most of the time during the flight to the Lunar base. However, because of the dignity and honor he had shown in taking the fall for the failures in the simulation, Jessie had somehow developed a grudging respect for the younger man. General Bradford had said that McKinley had the potential to be one of the best Captain's in the Earth Alliance Fleet, and Jessie didn't doubt it for a second. He had also said that Jessie herself was one of the most skilled pilots he had seen, and she didn't know what to say.
The berth doors were already opened to admit Jessie and Keryuoko as they brought their mobile suits into the berth and headed towards their ship. The Valiant was snug inside the dock, and it seemed asleep at this time. Jessie cut her engines and glided towards the open hatch at the front of the ship and gently touched down on the rear portion of the hatch. She guided the Strike Dagger as it walked across the hangar and settled itself against the port side wall of the hangar. With the mobile suit secured, Jessie powered down the systems of the mobile suit and yawned fiercely. She removed her helmet and shook her long, dark blonde hair back behind her, opening the cockpit hatch in the process.
As she exited the Dagger, she saw Keryuoko's mobile suit walking across the deck towards hers, wedging itself next to Jessie's machine. Jessie noticed one of the mechanics floating up towards the cockpit as she leaned back inside and took one last inventory of the systems. "Anything busted?" the man asked.
"No," Jessie replied. "The circuit breaker on the number four thruster took a while to power up, so I'll take a look at it when I get the chance. Otherwise, nothing's wrong. Just refuel it and get the weapons systems repowered and we'll be set."
"Great. We got to get everything ready for the simulation run tomorrow as it is, and this will only help us. Heh, if you and Keryuoko fly like you did in the last one, we may just be able to pull this off," the mechanic chuckled, wiping down the diagnostic board.
"That is, if the mobile armors can actually hit something this time," Jessie responded. She yawned once again and said, "Last time they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with their aim."
"You alright? You look like a zombie all of sudden, Lieutenant," the mechanic commented.
Jessie had to admit that she was very tired all of a sudden. Then she remembered that she'd been up early the previous morning working on the Dagger's systems and hadn't gotten a full night's rest. "Yeah..." she yawned again. "I think I may catch some sleep while I'm not doing anything. Take care of this guy for me, O.K.?"
"Roger, that." With that, Jessie floated across the hangar and into one of the corridors. She reached the pilot's dressing room, well actually it was her own private one because she was the only female pilot on board the Valiant, and sat down on one of the benches, breathing deeply. It had been a long day for her, and now she definetly needed to get some rest in preparation for the sim run the next day.
She managed to get out of her flight suit and slip her uniform on. With her eyes barely open, she managed to make her way up the two decks to her quarters and collapsed onto the bed, letting the jacket she had clutched in her hands fall to the floor. She closed her eyes and curled her legs up towards her chest, holding her pillow tightly as she drifted into sleep. It didn't last long however, when her room's intercom beeped with an incoming message. Groaning heavily, Jessie brushed the hair out of her face and reached for the receiver. "Lieutenant Mitchell," she said, rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand.
"Lieutenant, Captain McKinley is requesting your presence on the bridge at once," the voice said.
"Ughh," Jessie groaned. "Tell him I'll be there in five minutes."
"Yes, ma'am." Jessie jammed the receiver back down onto the intercom and reluctantly sat up. She slipped her uniform jacket onto her shoulders and zipped it all the way up to her neck. Grabbing her officers cap, she slowly floated out of her quarters, feeling as if she were sleep walking. The Earth Alliance uniform wasn't very comfortable to her, which made her feel even worse. She managed to make her way up to the bridge and floated through the doors onto the command center.
Seymour was sitting in his chair on the bridge, his head leaning on his enclosed fist. As Jessie moved closer, she discovered that he too was catching some Z's. She smiled. His face looked so peaceful to her, almost like a child's, relaxed in its sleep. Moving up close to him, Jessie abruptly smacked the back end of her right hand into the palm of her left, right next to his ear.
"Aah!" Seymour cried, waking up. "I-I was just resting my eyes," he muttered, his head darting this way and that. Jessie laughed quietly and Seymour laid his eyes on her. He groaned and said, "Why must you do that?"
"Because, you're the Captain," Jessie responded. "You can't afford to fall asleep like that."
"I know, I know," Seymour answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "How'd the flight go?"
"Alright. The Daggers are working again, so we're set for tomorrow."
"Great. We should be all set then." Seymour stood up and stood next to her. "Hopefully this time we'll actually get it done."
"What did you want me here for?" Jessie asked.
"General's got something he says we should know about. He's talking with Captain Norris as we speak." Seymour pointed to the front of the bridge and Jessie could make out the figures of the General and the Captain. Bradford was obviously in a bad mood based on the gestures he made with his arms and hands, and Captain Norris was attempting to explain something to him. Captain Brock Norris was the commander of the Jani-class ship, Intrepid, a key asset to Bradford's 5th Orbital Fleet. The Intrepid sat next to the Valiant in the docking berth. It was similar in design to the Agamemnon-class battleship in the Earth Alliance fleet, but was different in some ways. It had the same pointed design, but it was smaller in size, and was more maneuverable. It had two massive engines in the rear, with its bridge extending towards the heavens just above and in front of them. Two main-cannons stood at the foot of the bridge, with other guns and many missile launchers dotting the ship from the sides and underbelly. Its hangar was located in the top portion of the front of the ship, unlike the Agamemnon-class, which was located in the rear of the ship. The ship could carry as many as ten mobile armors, and at least five Strike Daggers in its holds, which made it a key combat asset to any fleet.
Captain Norris was tall and round, with high cheek-bones and a thick beard. Seymour and Jessie had met him briefly upon their arrival at the Lunar Base, and had learned that he was a good friend of General Bradford's from their early military days.
They saw Captain Norris point at them and the General floated towards them. "Good evening, General," Seymour said saluting, Jessie doing the same.
"I wish I could say the same, Captain," Bradford answered in a rough voice. "But I find myself unable to at this moment."
"What's the problem, sir," Jessie asked.
"We've got a serious problem on our hands," Captain Norris answered for him. "McCarthy's 6th Fleet is on its way back from L3. A Special Forces team destroyed the Orb colony of Gyndana two days ago."
"What!" both Seymour and Jessie gasped at the same time. "But that's insane!" Seymour cried. "What the hell is High Command thinking!"
"They declared war on the Orb Union yesterday," Bradford broke in. "Because Orb wouldn't join the Alliance, they are now being viewed as a ZAFT supporter and the homeland was subsequently attacked sumultaneously by the Pacific Fleet at the same moment when Gyndana was attacked."
"According to early reports, an Atlantic Federation Special Forces team successfully destroyed Gyndana's structure from within and caused it to collapse into itself," Captain Norris continued. "McCarthy's force was only there to keep people from escaping."
Seymour sighed. "Let me guess. Orb is now fighting against the Alliance?"
"Precisely," Bradford answered. "And it gets worse."
"After the colony was destroyed, an Orb warship that we had no intelligence about whatsoever successfully destroyed six, count 'em, six of McCarthy's ships. To make matters worse, the renegade ship, Archangel was somehow also there along with another ship that was unidentified. McCarthy lost a quarter of his men on a battle that shouldn't have even taken place!" Norris shouted.
"To make matter's worse, the battle also enraged a number of nations within the Alliance," Bradford added. "Scandanavia is threatening to pull their forces from the battlefield in response to these actions."
"But if Scandanavia does that, they'll just be attacked like the Orb Union was," Jessie said.
"Exactly. That's why I've got to contact Scandanavia and try to resolve the disputes right away." Bradford turned to face the front viewport of the ship. "As of today, the war has taken a violent new turn. Naturals are fighting against one another all because of disagreements about how Coordinators should be handled. It makes me sick!"
"General, sir," Seymour said. "What are you planning to do?"
"I don't know," Bradford replied forcefully. "At the moment there's nothing I can do. With Sutherland in charge of the Orbital Fleet, I can't do anything to act against him, or I'll suffer the same fate as Cantarii did before me. So right now, I'll just have to continue on with my current assignment and continue to break you people in."
"But that also presents the problem the Lunar Base has at the moment," Captain Norris commented. "With Panama's mass driver gone, and the Orb driver also destroyed by their own forces, the Earth Alliance is currently stranded on the planet. The supply line to the Moon Base has been effectively cut off."
"I heard the High Command was already accelerating their plans to recapture Victoria as we speak, sir," Seymour said. "The rumors also say that they're planning to assault Carpentaria from their new bases in Australia."
"They are working on all of those objectives, yes, but it will take them a while to capture either one, if they can at all," Norris responded.
"From now on, this ship is going to have to be on full alert, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, Captain McKinley," Bradford said. "You and I will alternate between shifts of running the bridge, but during simulations and battle stations, you will be in charge, understood?"
"Completely, General."
"Good. As for you, Lieutenant Mitchell, I'm going to have to ask you to take on extended hours in the coming days. The air defense is going to need all the help they can get in case of a ZAFT attack. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Jessie replied vigorously.
"Alright then. That's all for now. The simulation tomorrow will commence at 0800. That gives you both about eight hours to get some rest. I'll take over the bridge now Captain McKinley. So until then," Bradford saluted and they returned it. Seymour spun on his back heel and floated out of the bridge and into the elevator. Jessie followed him and stood next to him as they descended towards the deck with their quarters.
Seymour groaned. "What the hell are they thinking? Orb was a neutral state and they brought it into the war with a cowardly attack like this!"
"I'll never understand the High Command's way of thinking, I'll tell you that," Jessie responded. "I feel bad about it, though. I've heard that Gyndana had no military defense of its own."
"That's right. All they had was national guard, and that was it." Seymour sighed as they exited the elevator. "But like the General said, there's nothing we can do at the moment."
"Right," Jessie said. "What do you think will happen tomorrow?"
"During simulation? Pfft. I don't think we'll have a problem with air combat as long as you're in the air, Lieutenant," Seymour said.
Jessie shook her head. "And I don't think the ship will have a problem as long as you're commanding it, Captain."
"Alright then, we agree," Seymour said. Jessie reached her quarters and Seymour floated down the corridor towards his. "Until then, Lieutenant...I mean, Jessie!"
"You too...Seymour!" Jessie answered, entering her quarters. As she shut the door, she leaned against it and sighed. She had hoped the war wouldn't come to this. Civilians being killed for no damn reason. But it had happened, and she had no way of stopping it. Seymour was right, she admitted. There wasn't anything they could do at the moment. Jessie chuckled to herself, thinking about her Captain. At least he didn't stare this time.
She wandered into her quarter's bathroom and turned on the faucet. She unzipped her jacket and hung it on the stand in the corner. She pulled off her standard issue t-shirt and folded it neatly. When the water got cold enough, she threw some into her face and let it run across her skin, down her neck and shoulders, which were barely covered by a white, sleeveless undershirt. She brushed her hair and teeth, and prepared for bed. She shut the faucet off and kicked her shoes into one of the room's quarters. Jessie lay down on the bed she had vacated minutes earlier and lay on her side, eventually falling into a deep, comfortable sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day. Finally, we can get those hot-head commanders to shut up.
Down the corridor, inside Seymour's quarters, the only sound that could be heard was a mysterious noise that had no particular definitive call-name. Seymour gargled his mouthwash inside of his mouth as he stood inside his room's bathroom. He continued this for several more seconds before spitting it out into the sink. He proceeded to spit several more times before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The Earth Forces have got to find a better tasting mouthwash, he thought, trying to get the taste to go away. He finished cleaning up and then lay down on his bed, pulling the covers over his bare chest. Before he dozed off, he removed the watch that rested on his left wrist. The one that had belonged to his late father, and was supposed to have been given to his older brother Stanley. But when Stanley had died at Alaska, Seymour had inherited it, it's silver coating twinkling at him in the scant light. Seymour smiled. If only you could see me now, Stanley. You'd laugh your ass off. Within five minutes, he was sound asleep. His last thoughts before drifting off were, Damn Command...they'll kill us all one day...
-Dominion, London Harbor, England, August 9, C.E. 71, 1700.
Fantastic smells hovered in the air. Roasted turkey, slices of honey-glazed ham, lumps of mashed potatoes, mountains of vegetables and other greens, capped by the sweet smell of red and white wines on the side. The officer's dining room on the Dominion was as majestic as the great ship itself. This had been an addition to the ship that Admiral Sutherland had requested personally, which made it different than its predecessor, the Archangel. Painted in finery, it shone with red and blue colors with fine carpeting below. High-backed chairs supported the diners as they scavanged at their food, laid out before them on elegant, hard-wood tables.
In an isolated portion of the dining room, Azrael sipped at his wine, savoring every drop that cascading down into his throat. "The crisis with Scandanavia has been averted, you say?" Azrael asked, licking up the lingering drops of wine on the roof of his mouth.
Captain Rutherford sat to his right, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "General Bradford talked the Scandanavian leaders into remaining with the Alliance for the time being. He also seems to be quite upset that you didn't tell him about the Orb operations, sir."
"Let him think what he wants to. Bradford can't do anything to stop our plans because he's not in any position to do so. He's stuck training the kids at the moon base." Azrael sliced up a suculent piece of turkey and shoved it into his waiting mouth. "This food is delightful, Captain. Give my compliments to the chef on board when you get the chance."
"Yes, Mr. Azrael," Rutherford answered.
"Attention all hands! General Officer!" At the tone of that announcement, Rutherford bolted from his seat and stood straight at attention. Azrael followed, albeit in a more subtle fashion. Into the dining room came the considerable presence of Admiral Sutherland, with the Dominion's Captain, Hal Omanney, in tow. They walked across the dining room and took their seats at Azrael's table. When they sat, so did everyone else.
A mess hall attendant poured red wine into the quartet's glasses and retreated quickly. After taking a sip, Azrael traced his index finger along the glasses surface and said, "Superb. Once again you've outdone youself Admiral."
"The finest England has to offer Mr. Azrael," Sutherland replied. "I'd like to have gotten some of the best French stuff, but unfortunately I couldn't get it here in time. You can thank Captain Omanney for that." Hal didn't reply.
The quartet didn't say much while they ate their meal. Within twenty minutes, the turkey and ham were gone and dessert was just arriving in the form of cherry fruit cobbler. As he spooned the dish into his mouth, Sutherland said, "I received the final report from Admiral McCarthy this afternoon."
"I trust it was a good report, altogether," Azrael replied.
"Mostly, yes. Gyndana was destroyed and virtually everyone inside of it was wiped out. However, McCarthy's forces suffered losses that totalled more than a quarter. The 6th Fleet won't be able to sortie for quite some time, I'm afraid."
"That's not a concern at the moment, Admiral," Azrael said, wiping his mouth. "Right now, our top concern is getting our hands on someone's mass driver. With the Orb fools having destroyed their own, the Victoria Spaceport will have to take priority for now. How soon do you think we'll be able to take it."
"It won't be easy," Sutherland answered. "Especially with another good portion of our forces preparing for an assault on Carpentaria. The Pacific Fleet will arrive in Sydney tomorrow morning and regroup. Although the losses they suffered weren't all bad, they left Orb still breathing. Their fleet was almost completely wiped out, but several ships managed to launch of the driver before it was destroyed."
"What of our new test subjects?" Azrael asked. "How did they perform this time?"
"They did reasonably well I hear. They caused more damage there than they did during the Argentina skirmish." Sutherland chuckled. "That new medication must actually work."
"It's about time those egg-heads in research got something right," Azrael said.
"Admiral, sir," Hal broke in. "What are your plans for the Dominion at this time, sir?"
"You'll be made part of the assault force for Victoria, Captain. I'll have the three new machines transferred here as soon as their finished in Australia. Hopefully the Dominion will perform as well as she should. Or are you prepared to face the consequences of failure, Captain?" Sutherland said.
"Completely prepared, Admiral," Hal answered, downing the rest of his wine.
"Moving to the topic of the Archangel," Azrael said, wiping his hands. "What's the status on the ship after the battle ended?"
"It's believed it rendezvoused with that Orb ship and the others and left L3 before we could assemble the forces needed to catch them," Rutherford said.
"How was it possible that the Orb Union could construct a warship of that magnitude and not let any information about it leak?" Azrael wondered out loud.
"We had sketchy reports about the ship from intelligence, but they were unreliable at best," Sutherland answered. "It seems that Orb has been secretly building up their military strength in case of something like this happening. Just another reason why we had to take care of them now."
"But with that ship's strength, plus that of the Archangel, not to mention the other ship Admiral McCarthy reported, that's a pretty powerful fleet when you think about it, sir." Rutherford's eyes met Sutherland's, which appeared dark and irritated. "Do you think we should send Bradford out to deal with them?"
Sutherland looked at Azrael who said nothing. "In time, Captain. Right now, we don't have the intelligence needed to deal with them. Right now, our priorities must be to take both Carpentaria and Victoria in the allotted time we have at our feet."
"Carpentaria is likely to be the easiest to fall, since Australia's joined us," Azrael said. "If we committ the bulk of our forces there, we can take the base by the end of the month, possibly even earlier. Not to mention that ZAFT still seems to be rather, how shall I say, crippled, since our little accident at Alaska."
"If I may say so sir," Rutherford interrupted. "I believe it would be wisest to concentrate our forces at Victoria rather than Carpentaria."
All three sets of eyes turned to glare at him, and Sutherland said, "Why do you say that, Captain Rutherford?"
Rutherford took a deep breath. "With Panama's mass driver destroyed, we are now closed off from space, and our Lunar Base. You said it youself Mr. Azrael, that obtaining someone's mass driver is our top priority. Victoria to me sir, seems to be the more reasonable target, because Carpentaria is such an inviting one."
Azrael smiled. "Like Alaska, only this time in reverse."
"Precisely. With the Pacific Fleet already stationed in Sydney, ZAFT will no doubt begin to fortify Carpentaria for the upcoming invasion."
"Which will leave Victoria weak," Sutherland said. "The Coordinators will think our target is Carpentaria when we're really after Victoria."
"A brilliant strategy, yes. But there's just one problem," Azrael shut his eyes. "How can we be sure the Coordinators won't realize that our target is Victoria and not Carpentaria before we strike?"
"If we leave the Pacific Fleet where it is, in Australia, that will make the Coordinators think that Carpentaria is still the target. Sydney's within a morning's flight of Carpentaria, as it is." Sutherland leaned back in his chair. "Let's just say we concentrate our forces on the South African coast, and have them wait there. They'll think we're going to send our remaining forces from the North Atlantic to Australia via the Indian Ocean and around the southern tip of Africa. Why not just let them stop at the South African port and wait?"
"But if they stay there, ZAFT will begin to think that the target isn't Carpentaria," Rutherford pointed out. "Not to mention the fact that you said you were transferring the three new machines to the Dominion while it's still docked here in England. ZAFT will no doubt be monitoring our forces in Sydney all day and night, so they'll realize that they're gone."
"Security will have to be a top priority from now on. Captain Rutherford," Azrael said. "Would you please make a call to Sydney and tell them that all unauthorzied personnel are barred from entering any port of cause until further notice."
"But, sir," Hal broke in. "No one from Australia lives much further than one hundred miles from the sea. It's their main survival route. If we take away the civilian's access to the seas-."
"Everyone must be prepared to make a sacrifice for our cause, Captain Omanney," Azrael responded vigorously. "Australia will just have to bear the burden until we begin the Victoria operation on schedule. Until then, civilians will be barred from entering any port on the Australian coast until further notice. Please go and send the order now, Captain Rutherford."
"Yes, sir," Rutherford answered, standing up. He saluted and walked briskly out of the dining hall. Hal followed him a few minutes later, after finishing his dessert and saluting, which left Azrael and Sutherland alone in the dining hall, which had become uncharacteristically empty.
After casting a glance around him to make sure that no one was paying attention, Azrael said, "I received a transmission from Sergeant Richards of the Special Forces earlier today. The message was quite interesting." Sutherland sipped at his drink, and Azrael continued, "The first half of his strike team escaped aboard a private vessel. But he also said that the other half managed to secure tansport on another ship. One that may greatly interest us in the future."
Azrael gave Sutherland the details, and when he finished, Sutherland had a devilish grin across his face. "The unsuspecting fools. We have them in the palm of our hand once again."
"We'll bide our time with them until the time is right," Azrael added. "In the meantime, my...partner, inside ZAFT has given me inside information regarding an order that was given to much of ZAFT's remaining forces. Seems Chairman Patrick Zala is organizing his forces for a final invasion, after all. The bastard's about to risk everything he had once again to attack the Earth. What a fool, he is."
Sutherland sighed. "Predictable as always, Zala. Who else knows about this information?"
"Just you and me, my friend," Azrael smiled. "Captain Rutherford doesn't even know about my partner. I can only hope that he will continue to be beneficial to our cause in the coming months. Until then," Azrael raised his glass, "to the preservation of our blue and pure world, Admiral." Their glasses clanked together in a crystallized sound and they both laughed evily.
On the dock that held the Dominion, the dock's female director was sitting idle, reading a magazine in an attempt to pass the time. Suddenly, a shadow came across her form and she turned to see a figure in a floppy brown hat standing by the entrance to the dock. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked.
The man approached. His face was heavily scarred and his hair was discolored, a combination of blonde and brown. "I was told to come to this place to begin my service. I'm a new enlistee in the Earth Forces military."
"Ah, yes. We were informed that several new crewmembers were coming aboard the Dominion tonight." The director took our a slip of paper and scribbled some writing on it. "What did you say your name was?"
"Hugh Nicol, ma'am," the stranger answered. "Assigned to the Earth Alliance Forces 7th Orbital Fleet, Crewman 3rd Class."
The director finished writing and saluted, which the stranger returned. "Welcome aboard the Dominion, sir. I hope you enjoy your time in the Earth Forces and help bring the war to a victorious end."
"I hope so too, ma'am," he answered, walking towards the ship. His entrance to the Earth Forces had only taken place roughly two weeks earlier, and he still was questioning whether or not he was making the right decision regarding his own objectives. As he walked up the stairs into the ship, the long, black case slung over his shoulder, thumped against his back causing him to wince in pain. His provisional Earth Alliance uniform hung loosely to him, uncomfortable as it was. He entered the ship and looked around, taking in his surroundings. It was exactly the same. He sighed and thought, What a beautiful mess I've gotten myself into this time...
-Archangel, August 11, C.E. 71, 1300.
Sparks flew. The blowtorch cast its energy along the electrical systems of the K-bomber's outer shell, turning out brilliant colors of blue and yellow as it moved along its path. The invidivual guiding the torch had his goggles on over his eyes for protection, and appeared to be a non-human monster spreading destruction wherever he went. Faceless as he was with his goggles on, he also wore gloves that masked his hands, making him appear ghastly and humorless.
His job finished, he extinguished the torch and stepped away from the metallic death spreader that was the bomber. Raising his goggles to expose his eyes, he was human again. The monster way gone. "Alright. That's it, Jay! Try it!" Coop called from below.
Up in the bomber's nose turret, Jay manipulated the control box next to his seat and spun the ball on its 360 degrees turning radius, turning it in a full circle both ways. "This'll do," Jay said from the nose. "It's working fine now Coop, thanks!"
"I'm gonna get a bite to eat and come back here when I'm finished. We'll check the elctrical systems inside with Chief Murdoch when I get back, O.K.?"
"Fine, but I've got to start my shift on the bridge at 1600," Jay said, climbing down from the nose.
"We'll meet back here in an hour then," Coop said. "Until then, take care of yourself, my friend."
"Same to you," Jay responded. Coop pulled off his gloves and started floating across the deck towards the adjacent corridor. Along the way, he passed the other two bombers which were being worked on by some of the Gyndana Guardsman that had been lucky enough to be aboard the Archangel at the time of the battle. Captain Ramius had allowed the men to remain aboard since they really had no home to go back to now. It saddened Coop to even think about them. He knew that at least some of them had had families back on Gyndana, and more than likely, they were all dead. But if they were sorry about it, they sure didn't show it. They just went about their work without saying anything to anyone but each other. More casualties of the war.
Coop sighed. They weren't the only ones who were suffering now. Coop himself had lost his mother during the war, along with many of his friends. He himself was thought to be dead among the Earth Forces now, or perhaps worse, a traitor. Sai had lost a friend in Tolle Koening, who happened to be Miriallia's boyfriend at the time, and was slain by Athrun. Athrun too had lost a friend, at the hands of Kira. Commander la Flaga had lost his best friend in the raid on Cuba, and Captain Ramius had come very close to losing her brother in the same raid. Even Colonel Namora, who had no family left on Earth, had been hurt by someone who he had trusted for over twenty years. War tore friendships appart, and left families decimated, all while motivating the rest to keep fighting until the bitter end.
The crew wasn't suffering only emotionally, but physically as well. The ship had not been able to get any supplies from Gyndana while docked, and it was too late to return to the debris belt. They had no choice but to follow Admiral Cantarii and head for the so-called Orb secret base at Mendel in the L4 Cluster. In the meantime, they had been forced to ration their remaining supplies to feed the entire crew. Coop was down to two small meals a day and one glass of water, which was the same for everyone. With the water supply dangerously low, the officers had been forced to cut off all unrestricted use of water, which meant no showers, with the exception for the women aboard, who were allowed one every once in a while, or cleanup whatsoever for anyone. Ammunition and fuel were also running low. The last battle had left the crew drained and their ammo stockpiles had fallen to dangerous levels. Coop just hoped they weren't attack before they reached Mendel.
To pass the time, Coop had taken up reading whatever books he could find aboard the ship. There were few novels or other books on board, and the only other things considered reading material was the swimsuit magazines that Jake, Donnie, and Mike would oggle on for hours at a time.
"Come on Mike, can't you figure this thing out?" The quiet exclamation startled Coop out of his thoughts. Speak of the devil... he thought. In front of him, a little ways down the hallway, Donnie and Jake were kneeled in front of a door with Mike standing behind them. Coop had no idea what the hell they were doing, and he really didn't want to know, because it involved those three.
"I already told you, the lock's electronically sealed," Mike returned. "Nobody can break that stuff except for Kira and Athrun."
"Well, try it anyway. I don't want to say I was on my knees this long for nothing, you know," Jake returned.
"Shut up, you guys! They'll hear us!" Donnie snapped quietly.
Coop approached the trio quietly, trying to make it so they wouldn't know he was behind them. When he got close enough, he leaned casually over the trio and said, "What are you guys doing...?"
"Aah!" Jake exclaimed, nearly tumbling over Donnie when he jumped. Turning sharply around, he finally noticed Coop behind him. "D'ah, Coop. W-what are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? What are you guys doing here?" Coop returned. Jake and Donnie got back up on their feet and stood across from him on the other side of the door. "I thought you guys were supposed to be helping Chief Murdoch out in the hangar? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Well...I...I mean, we was..." Mike stuttered.
Beside them, the door slid open slowly and quietly. Coop sighed. "Save it, Mike. In all liklihood, I probably don't want to know what the hell you three perverts were doing, so-."
Something hard smashed into the side of Coop's head and he jerked back in pain. His hands immediately went up to his forehead above his right eye, which had been opened up by whatever it was that had hit him. He went down on his knees, gasping in pain. He heard Donnie shout something and could barely see the trio scampering down the corridor away from him. As he stood on his knees, Coop heard someone shout something from beside him. "You bastard! How dare you try and do that to us! If you don't leave now, I'm gonna get mad and hit your thick head even harder!" Coop knew that voice.
"You're already mad, Cagalli..." another voice answered.
Oh shit... Coop realized what had been behind the door. The first voice had belonged to Cagalli, while the second was Miriallia's. Donnie, Jake, and Mike trying to break the door open could only mean that one thing was behind it.
Cagalli shouted again, "Do you honestly want to get your ass kicked, you pervert!"
"What the hell did I do!" Coop shouted in return, still clutching his head above his eye, which was bleeding profusely now.
He heard Miriallia gasp and said, "Coop...!"
"Huh?" Coop said, opening his eyes and turning to where the sound came from. In the doorway, Cagalli stood with a severely dented frying pan in one hand, with the other clutching her white towel to her body. Behind her, Miriallia's hands went up to her mouth in shock, which also allowed the towel that had been covering her to slip off. Coop's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards, unconscious, sighing as he did.
-Archangel, 1630.
"Of all the stupid, perverted, idiotic, dispicable things you three have ever done, this takes the cake!" John was pacing, or floating more or less, back and forth across the bridge, his voice shouting as he did so. Donnie, Jake, and Mike were lined up along the front of the bridge, each with red marks on their cheeks, one each from Cagalli, and another one from Miriallia. "I cannot believe, that at a time like this, you three idiots would do something as stupid as this!" John thundered. "Can't you see that we have enough trouble to worry about on this ship right now as it is!"
"But, Coop was the only one who actually saw 'em-"
"Does that make a difference!" John shouted. "Unlike you idiots, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I'm sure he'll want to kick the shit out of all three of you if he ever sees any of you again."
"He didn't get hurt that bad though...did he...?" Jake said.
"He's got thirty stitches above his right eye from when Cagalli hit him in the head with a frying pan, you idiot!" Jay shouted from the weapons station at the back of the bridge.
"That's enough, Ensign Haas," Natarle commanded, from behind John.
"Unfortunately, I'm not the person in charge of the ship, though I am the senior officer aboard," John said. "Therefore, Captain Ramius has decided..." John paused, then smirked. "To let Lieutenant Badgiruel decide your punishment." Donnie, Jake, and Mike went pale.
"Until further notice, you three will be on cleanup duty for the entire ship," Natarle said. "That means the bathrooms, the mess hall, the bridge, and the entire hangar complex. You will also be required to maintain the bombers and Skygraspers when you are done. Do I make myself clear!"
"Yes, ma'am," they said quietly.
"Very good. Now get to work! I also expect you three to make a personal apology to Miss Cagalli and Crewman Haw, and you must do it in front of either Colonel Namora, Captain Ramius, Commander la Flaga, Lt. Commander Barkhesh, or myself!" Natarle added quietly, but fiercely.
"Dismissed!" John ordered. They quickly filed out of the bridge with their eyes and mouths shut. After the trio had left, John chuckled. "Pretty impressive, Lieutenant. Made 'em clean the hangar out too. I'm impressed."
"Thank you, sir," Natarle answered. "Though I'm sure you could've done something even better."
"Yeah, what were you gonna have 'em do, Colonel, sir?" Neumann asked.
"Eh," John shrugged. "Who knows? You can take your leave now if you wish, Lieutenant Badgiruel. I'll take over here for now."
"Thank you, Colonel," Natarle said, saluting. She turned and floated out of the bridge, into the elevator and descended towards a lower level on the ship. She sighed as the elevator descended. It had been a long voyage from L3, but now they were only about a day's journey away from Mendel, the Orb Fleet's secret base. The Archangel had been quiet since that day, with the exception of the outburst that had been triggered by Donnie, Jake, and Mike. This kind of behavior was getting really old for Natarle, especially given the circumstances they found themselves in at this point.
The elevator came to a halt, and Natarle floated out of its confined walls and into one of the ship's corridors. Colonel Namora had said that it indeed was Admiral Cantarii running the show for the Orb military. Cantarii had been fired by the Earth Alliance for not ending the war quickly enough, and many people had lost respect for him, Natarle included. At this time, she still wasn't sure, even though John and the other said they could, that she could trust him. The same went for General Waltfeld and Miss Clyne aboard the Eternal. Natarle had dedicated her life to the cause of the Earth Forces. First, three years as an intelligence officer for the Alliance Intelligence Bureau, where she had proved herself to be a capable computer analyst and field agent whenever she needed to be. A year ago, she had been transferred to the Alliance Fleet Command because they needed new people to help operate the ships. Natarle's skills as an analyst and a great leader earned her the rank of Ensign in the 8th Fleet, and she had followed that path to Heliopolis in January of this year, where she had met Captain Ramius and the other crew aboard the Archangel. The trek to this point had begun there. The Earth Forces had betrayed her, and she vowed that she would never go back to the military, no matter what. Hardly the trek Natarle Badgiruel had ever anticipated, or even wanted.
Natarle was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that she was going to crash into someone until they had already collided as they came around the corner. The impact was small, and immediately she quickly said, "Oh, I'm sorry," but she heard the same phrase being uttered back at her. She finally noticed who it was she had bumped into, when she saw the autumn colored mustache and matching hair. "Oh...sorry Commander Barkhesh."
"No, it's my fault. I wasn't paying attention," Frank said, "You alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you," Natarle answered, moving past him. She was still trying to avoid him, because of their altercation on Gyndana still hung clearly in her head. She didn't like to admit it, but he had saved her life outside Governor Riklia's office when he had pulled her behind the door of the car when the shooting started. As she started moving away from Frank, Natarle noticed her stomach was feeling uneasy. At first she shrugged it off, but it continued, and she finally guessed that her conscience was biting at her to do something. She sighed, knowing what it was her conscience wanted her to do. She didn't really want to, but if it was for the best.
She turned and called, "Commander, wait." Frank turned back to face her just as she floated up towards him. Her violet-gray eyes met his brown ones and she moved her right hand behind her head, trying to find the right words. "Listen...I...didn't get the opportunity...to thank you..." was what she managed.
"Thank me?" Frank asked, puzzled. "For what?"
"At Gyndana...you did...save my life, back there. I guess...I was kind of an idiot...I didn't really mean to yell at you, so..." She stopped when she noticed Frank was laughing. "What!" she said forcefully.
"No, nothing," Frank said between laughs. Then he got serious. "It's just that...well...I was kind of, you know, about to apologize to you for what happened. You know, I kinda knocked you down in front of everybody...I should've told somebody on the bridge about what I was doing...and I'm sorry for that."
"Oh..." Natarle said, scratching her head. "I...didn't think you'd actually apologize...so..."
"I always try not to leave someone with a bad impression about me," Frank said. "If I got you angry, I'm sorry. I'll try not to do that again, O.K. Lieutenant?"
"Yes, that's fine," Natarle responded. "But, I think I should be the one to apologize to you." She looked away from him for a moment, trying to find the right words. This was hard for her, she had to admit. No one had ever even tried to do that for her before, and yet Frank had even gone all the way to apologize to her for what he'd done. Natarle didn't know what to say, really. What came out was, "I...shouldn't have reprimanded you for throwing me down. You were only trying to protect me...weren't you?"
"Yes. What, did you think I was just going to throw you down for the hell of it?"
"Well...maybe...at first," Natarle said. "But, you did protect me...and I'm thankful for that. No one's ever even...tried to do something like that for me."
"Eh, it was nothing," Frank said, turning slightly away from her. Natarle thought she could barely make out red spots forming on his cheeks, above the hairs of his mustache. Her mouth opened slightly. Is he blushing? she thought. "You did end up alright, didn't you? After I threw you down that is?"
"I was fine," Natarle said. "Thanks to you that is."
"Don't mention it," Frank said. "Anything else going on aboard this ship?" he asked, turning back to business.
"No, nothing really," Natarle admitted. "Everything's going pretty quietly right now. Besides the perverts who tried to break in to the women's showers this morning."
"What the hell did John do to 'em?" Frank asked, coming closer to her.
"He let me decide what to do, believe it or not."
"And...?" Frank asked.
"They've got cleaning duties, the entire ship, for as long as I say so," Natarle smirked. "And trust me, that's going to be a long time."
Frank smiled. "Nice. So nothing else is going on right now?" Natarle shook her head. "Well, I'm off duty now, so I'm going to meet Mwu and my sister at the mess hall." Then an idea hit Frank in the head. "Hey, are you doing anything right now, Lieutenant?"
Natarle's eyebrows scrunched in consfusion, but she said, "No, not really. Why do you ask?"
"Come and get a drink with me. I figure I owe you one for not telling John about the little incident in the hangar a week ago," Frank said.
Natarle moved her hand behind her head again and turned slightly away from him. "Well...I don't know..."
"Come on," Frank coaxed. "You know you want to. It's just one drink and then you can be on your way again." He smiled. "I'll even buy, if you want."
This caused Natarle to chuckle a little, which shocked even her. "They're free, Commander," she reminded him. But then she sighed. "Alright, I'll come. But if anybody sees me down there with you, you're explaining it to them, O.K.?"
"Fine," Frank said. "Come on then, you gotta at least have some fun aboard this ship, Lieutenant...or can I call you by your name?"
Natarle thought about it, and finally said, "If you want...Frank." Frank smiled, and led the way towards the bar which was connected to the mess hall at the end of the corridor.
When they reached the mess hall, it was virtually empty, with only a few scattered servicemen and women lounging at tables inside the hall. The bar connected to the mess hall was also scantly populated. The lights were dim as usual, which made the room darker than any place else on the Archangel. When Frank and Natarle entered the bar, the only two occupants they could see besides the bartender, were Mwu and Murrue, who were seated on the bar stools, their backs turned to them. As they floated closer, Frank called to the bartender for a beer, while Natarle ordered a mineral water. Mwu turned his head to notice the newcomers and beamed, "Frank! 'Bout time you showed up!" Seeing Natarle enter behind him, Mwu commented, "Lieutenant. Surprised to see you here."
"I'm not sure why I'm here either, Commander," Natarle answered, taking a seat beside Frank at the end of the bar. "Just act like I'm not here, if you want."
"I'm kidding, Natarle, don't take it seriously," Mwu laughed.
"Who does take you seriously, Mwu?" Frank remarked, which got a laugh from all four of them. The bartender delivered their drinks and silently left the quartet as quickly as he had come.
Mwu took a sip from his bottle and said, "What'd John do to the idiots, Natarle?"
"He let me punish 'em, believe it or not. They're on cleaning duty until further notice, and that includes the hangar and everything in it," Natarle said, taking a sip from her drink.
"Pretty good," Mwu commented, "John would've done worse though, don't you think Frank?"
"Mm-hmm," Frank murmured.
"What would he have done, Mwu?" Murrue asked. "You always said he was creative when it came to punishment."
"Well," Mwu sighed. "The last time something like this happened, it was our senior year at the academy...wasn't it Frank...?"
"Yeah, senior year," Frank added. "Stevy, Niada, and Jay got caught trying to bust into the women's pilot room. John went nuts."
"What did he do?" Natarle asked.
"Considering the stuff that they had done in the past, I'd say he went a little easy on 'em, this time." Mwu smiled. "But it was harsh on everybody else at the academy, including us. John made the male pilots refurbish and redecorate every single female quarters in the academy. Windows, paint, carpeting, accessories, everything. No incidents were ever reported between genders after that."
Murrue and Natarle laughed. Frank shook his head, "How times have changed," he commented.
"Yeah..." Mwu agreed.
Murrue excused herself from the group so she could clean her glass out. As she walked away from her friends, she heard them laugh for a period of time after one of them had said something. She made a note to herself to get back as soon as she was finished. She wiped her glass out with a paper towel and scrubbed it until it looked presentable. As she did this, two of the Gyndana Guardsmen that had been fortunate to be aboard the ship at the time the battle started, wandered into the adjacent mess hall. Murrue could hear their conversation from where she was.
"Man, this ship has got everything," one of them commented.
"We owe this to Captain Ramius, and everybody else on board," the other said. Then he laughed, "Compared to some of the commanders I've seen, she's pretty soft."
Murrue frowned, but shrugged the comment off. "Yeah, I'll agree with you on that," the first man returned. "She even let us stay aboard the ship, even though we're not a part of its crew. She put us to work in the hangars and everything."
"You can thank, Captain Affione for that," the second said. "He talked her into letting us stay. Anybody else would've thrown us out."
"Why do you think she let us stay?" the first asked.
"Probably something she's just gotten used to. Maybe it's because...well, it's just what I've heard from some of the other guys, but when she was a kid, she had the freedom to do whatever she wanted, and never had to go through anything tough, which is why she's such a softie."
Murrue gasped. "Yeah, I'll take your word for it. Her parents must have been the easiest in the world if she turned out like this."
Her hands began trembling, her eyes widened. Her breath came in short, uneasy tempos. She cried out, her hands gripped the wash basin tightly. Sweat poured from her forehead. Her teeth chattered.
Mwu, Frank, and Natarle heard her cry out and turned sharply to see her trembling. Frank got up from his seat and came over to her. "Murrue! What's wrong?" Murrue didn't answer, and broke away from him and floated quickly out of the mess hall, knocking one of the attendants over as she left. "Murrue!" Frank called. Mwu came up behind him and looked over his shoulder as she left.
"What happened?" he asked one of the crewman who had been near.
"I have no clue," he admitted. "Those two Gyndana guys were talking and all of a sudden she just cried out. I didn't know what the hell happened."
Frank saw the two men chatting at a table nearby and floated towards them calmly. He stood next to them, and asked, "Uh, guys. What were you two talking about just now?"
"Why, Commander," one of them asked.
"Well, my sister, the Captain, did just leave this place a moment ago after apparently you said something that upset her. Can you tell me what you were talking about?" Frank asked, deliberatly.
The man shrugged his shoulders. "All I said was that she was going easy on us because your parents must have been the easiest in the world to get along with."
Frank's eyes widened, and his thoughts retreated back into his head. Suddenly, he wasn't in the Archangel's mess hall anymore. He was in the entryway of a house. It was dark, with only the light fixtues along the wall emitting light. Rain pelted the windows and doorway behind him. He recognized this place. It was his childhood home. He had lived here for the first thirteen years of his life. Everything was the same. His head looked from one direction to the other, trying to get his bearings.
"Aahh!" someone screamed. Frank jumped. His body shook. It was that night, again. The one he'd tried to get out of his head for the past eight years. No! It couldn't be the same night! Not again! "Aaaaahhhh!" the scream came again. Frank knew the voice. NO! his thoughts shouted.
Then, he was back in the Archangel's mess hall. The man in front of him was talking to his friend again, and he had a smile on his face. Frank's mind snapped. He lunged at the man and took him off of his seat, punching him in the face as he did so, connecting with a swift blow that blew apart the man's nose. Frank drove the man to the ground and pummeled his face with his hand, the one with the steel insides. His mind was angry. He had hidden that memory for years. Gone through so much to forget it! And now, this idiot had brought it back. Frank wanted to kill the man for making him go through that again.
As soon as Frank attacked the man, Mwu was on him in an instant, attempting to restrain his friend from hurting the man anymore. He finally managed to lock Frank's arms behind his back and drag him off of the man, but not before Frank elbowed him in the gut, and mashed his ankle, that was still recovering from the last injury, with his foot. Mwu shrugged the pain off and dragged Frank backwards. Other crewmembers had heard the commotion and had come flooding towards the mess hall. As Mwu dragged Frank back into the bar, who was still resisting fiercely, Natarle began giving orders for everyone else to leave now. She sounded like a policewoman giving out orders at a traffic intersection, pointing every which way, telling people to move along and get back to work.
Finally, Mwu managed to haul Frank into the bar, and shouted, "Natarle, shut the damn door!" Natarle did so, slamming it forcefully to block off all other access. The bartender had jumped the bar and poured cold water over Frank's head when Mwu pushed him up to the bar and pinned him down against it. Frank was still trembling heavily as Mwu held onto his arms, breathing heavily and angrily. "Calm down, Frank!" Mwu commanded forcefully. "I said, calm down, Frank!" he shouted again.
Five minutes went past, before finally, Frank's breathing went back to normal and he stopped trembling. The bartender gave Natarle a dry wash rag, and she wiped his face and head clean of the cold water. Mwu finally said, "What the hell were you doing, Frank! What got into you!"
"You have no idea what that bastard just made me go through, Mwu," Frank hissed, shaking his head.
"What are you talking about, Frank?" Mwu asked. "You never even left the mess hall. You're sister just left the room crying a moment ago, and then you just went and beat the shit out of a guardsman who didn't do anything to deserve it!"
"Oh, yes he did," Frank said, slowly raising his head. From where she stood, Natarle thought she saw tears coming down his cheeks. "He made me go through something that I never wanted to go through again Mwu." He sobbed quietly. "The same for Murrue."
Mwu reluctanlty sat next to Frank and asked, "What happened, Frank? What did you go through?"
Frank didn't answer. Natarle took a seat next to him and said quietly, "Frank. What happened?" His eyes met hers, and they were filled with mist.
"I can't tell you," he said.
"Why not?" Mwu said.
"I just can't," Frank answered.
"Come on Frank," Mwu said.
"I said, I can't!" Frank shouted. He sobbed. "It's too painful for me to recollect."
Natarle leaned in close and grabbed his chin, forcing it to face her. "Frank! If you don't tell us, I'll report this to Admiral Cantarii as an assault, and you'll be thrown off this ship as soon as we reach Mendel. As of now, you attacked another crewmember for no reason, and that's a felony." Her voice softened. "Now. Will you tell us, what happened?"
Frank stared at the black-haired woman next to him for an eternity. Her face was reassuring, her eyes sincere. This was a different Natarle Badgiruel than the one he had met a month earlier. One that was kind-hearted and meant well. One that wasn't concerned with just getting the job done. His eyes shut and his face pressed against the bar counter again. "If I tell you," he said, his voice muffled by the counter, "Murrue will kill me."
"We won't tell her you told us, Frank," Mwu reassured him, laying a hand on his back.
Frank sighed. "Alright, then." Frank Barkhesh began a story that he hoped he would never have to tell again. One that had left him and his sister scarred for life, both physically and emotionally. He, and the others, would never be the same again.