Note: Thanks to all reviewers, especially those that gave me suggestions on improving the story. Feel free to keep flaming!
Start Chapter 3Stoner, slumped against the wall of the living room, found his eyelids drooping. He yawned. Slumber was descending on him, ever so gently, so pervasively…
"Oh…the pot…" he slurred. That was it. The photographer had taken a full dose only a while ago—but could barely remember. Finally, he drifted off, dropping the stack of papers he held to his chest.
Tip. Tap. Tip. The tip-toeing trio stopped, right behind the dozing Stoner. Maeter drew out markers. Linck brandished shaving cream. Maurice held a pair of scissors. The three adoptive children of Eureka flashed mischievous smiles and began their work.
By the time two minutes had passed, snippets of his long hair were cut out, the inside of his beret was smothered with shaving cream, and a feeble attempt of drawing a moustache on the mustached man. Maeter, frustrated, began slashing at Stoner's face with blue and orange.
"Mhhr…hey…stop it! Ah! My dear Che Guevara beard!" Stoner hurtled himself upward, knocking Maeter to the side. The child tossed his markers at the photographer and began bawling.
"Stupid moustache man!" she screamed.
"Oh, perfect…" he mumbled to himself. Stoner gathered the discarded markers and returned them to Maeter. "Here. Don't cry."
She stopped.
"Now…" Stoner turned to the group. "Just because your Mama isn't here doesn't mean that you can just go and behave like this. She'll be awfully disappointed if she finds you doing this stuff to other people."
"Mama…she's coming back…right?" Maeter asked. Her eyes were growing wet again.
Stoner gave an assuring smile. "Don't worry."
"And Barfie too?" said Linck, waving his can of shaving cream. "Barfie's coming back too, right? Without Barfie, we would…"
"Barfie?" questioned Stoner. "You mean Renton's gone too?"
Linck nodded furiously. "That's why we picked on you! We got lonely!"
This is…unbelievable! "Where'd he go?"
"Six oh six!"
He took Matthieu's Terminus for the sake of rescuing Eureka, huh…this is excellent story material—the type that can put journalists in history! The ultimate love story unveils, the young hero goes through desperate measures to rescue his beloved! It's brilliant!
Maurice held his siblings' shoulders. "Let's go. We don't wanna disappoint Mama."
"Mm!" The trio left Stoner to his thoughts.
"Now then…" mused Stoner aloud. "I think I'll get my camera and prepare for their return. It's the shot of a lifetime! …There's shaving cream in my hat."
-
The stray bullets clanged and clattered off the metallic walls, showering the atmosphere with bright orange sparks. Holland rolled to safety, glancing at the surprised looks on his opponents' faces. With the dexterity of an experienced gunman, he bent down and hit the switch for auto-fire on his submachine gun. The bullets ceased.
Still taking advantage of the shock, he leapt for the nearest pilot—a man with a heavy frame—and disabled him with a quick hit to his collar bone followed by a swift chop at his neck. Unconsciousness ensued. He positioned the slumped figure between himself and the remaining pilot—a smaller person, shorter than Holland—and held his submachine gun out from the side.
All this happened in five seconds.
"Drop your weapon before I kill your comrade!" he growled. Holland pressed forward, skillfully aligning himself away from his opponent's firing view. He heard the dropping of a firearm. "Now…kick your weapon away. Down the chute. Do it slowly…okay. Put your hands up, where I can see them."
He threw his human shield to the floor. The person standing before him was but a child, maybe fifteen or sixteen years ago. He was dressed in a black U.F. uniform that bore the emblem of an anchor with three stripes—the rank of Ensign. Holland looked closely at the patch on the left sleeve to find the letters "SOF."
He's…part of the SOF.
The pilot chuckled mirthlessly. "Well done, well done. Nothing less could have been expected from the legend. Holland Novak. I applaud you. Your gunmanship and wits are admirable."
"Where's Eureka?"
"She's being held in the ammunitions bay. That's the bottom half of our LFO. Would you like me to go get her and bring her here, Mr. Novak?" He spoke with a casual elegance.
"No," replied the leader of Gekko State heatedly. "I'm gonna knock you unconscious, then take both of you back. I'll find Eureka on my own."
The pilot shrugged. "Nothing will come of nothing."
"Whatever," Holland muttered before delivering a blow to his enemy's neck. He was downed instantly. This kid…there's something strange about him, the way he spoke…and he's SOF too. Seems like the U.F. has found some replacements for us.
Holland collected the two bodies and tied their hands to a nearby pole. He took a moment to examine the other pilot of the white LFO: he was dressed in the same uniform, another SOF soldier. This pilot was much older than his partner—already in adulthood, maybe around his mid-twenties. The nametags on each person bore the same last name: Brightside.
Holland headed off down the chute to the bottom half of the LFO and found the ammunitions bay. The door was locked from the outside. Holland unlocked it and entered to see Eureka sitting on the floor. She looked up with her purple eyes and smiled. "Holland!"
"Come on, I'll need you to help me pilot this thing." Holland offered Eureka his hand; she took it and followed Holland to the nearest cockpit.
"What should I do?" she asked.
"Try operating the controls. This LFO has two parts, a top and a bottom. You're in charge of the bottom, whose main capabilities are firing the sniper cannon and operating a claw. Good luck, Eureka."
"Roger!" She hastened to the controls.
Holland hurried up to the upper cockpit and scanned the controls. It was very similar to the Terminus, with a throttle and board interface. On the LCD screen to his side was written: "SH-102 Spearhead Sniper, Light Finding Operation. Linking with second pilot."
Spearhead? Wasn't that the name of…Eureka appeared on the screen. "Holland! I'm ready."
He nodded and fastened his seat belt. The SH-102 was flying around in no time. The LFO was surprisingly easy to maneuver. The absence of a ref board wasn't a hindrance—rather, movement was much easier. He tested the LFO for a while, zooming back and forth. The speed of the machine was incredible.
A large creaking alerted him. The SH-102 suddenly shifted downward, dragged by the remains of Holland's crashed Terminus. He swore loudly. "Why didn't I get rid of that?"
The creaking grew louder and the white LFO was pulled downward several meters. Dammit, my Terminus makes a terrible anchor. At this rate, we're gonna sink.
"Holland!" cried Eureka. "The 909 is stuck in the back of this LFO—"
"I know. We'll just have to try throwing it off before it hauls us down. Try operating the claw to move it."
Eureka gritted her teeth, leaning over the control panel. The right side was labeled "SH-102 Sniper Rifle" and the left was labeled "SH-102 Claw." Eureka recognized the contents of the panel from a training exercise she had gone through in the United Federation. She began working.
The claw extended itself from a latched opening in the LFO and made its way to the back of the LFO. Shakily, its pincers opened and latched onto the protruding leg of the 909. A slight tug revealed that the 909 was lodged quite deeply into the white LFO. A harder tug yielded no result.
"I can't get it out," she said.
Holland groaned. "No choice now. We're going to have to—"
The LFO rumbled again, this time much more forcefully. Holland was thrashed about his seat, but his seat belt held him from falling. (A/N: Remember folks….buckle up!) A force began pulling on the white LFO; Holland urged the craft upward, desperate to maintain his altitude.
"Eureka!" he called. "What was that?"
A surprised look encompassed her face. Below the claw was the yellow TR-606. It was trying to pry the 909 loose from the white LFO. Eureka pointed it out to Holland.
"Matthieu…?" she murmured softly.
The 606 flew closer to the windshields of the cockpits. Through the glass, Eureka perceived a small figure smiling and waving at her. It was Renton.
"Eureka," said Holland. The strain of maintaining the white LFO was shown in his eyes. "See if you can lower the firewall placed on this LFO's communication systems. If we want this to work, we'll need to contact Renton."
A blurry of keystrokes and Renton's face appeared on both their screens.
"Eureka! Eureka! Are you okay?" the boy asked.
"Um…yes."
"That's such a relief!" He grinned on-screen. "I'm gonna save you!"
Holland asked Renton, "And how are you going to do that?"
He flashed a confident thumbs-up. "I've got it all thought out. First, I need you two to get out of there and board the 606. Judging by the structure of the white LFO, it won't be able to carry the lodged 909 for much longer. We'll have to let it go."
Holland stared downward at the shimmering sea despairingly. "No. I'm not willing to lose my 909 now."
"That's not a problem. With enough force, I'll be able to squeeze it through. However, you crashed it straight into the heating and equilibrium keepers of the white LFO. In other words, removing the 909 would cause incredible damage to the white LFO and make it nearly impossible to pilot. We'll have to leave the white LFO to crash."
Holland cleared his throat. "I see. Will the 606 be able to support the 909 back to the Gekko-Go, Renton?"
"Matthieu got the Nirvash back safely, and the 909 isn't nearly as big," he explained.
"Got it. Eureka, get in the 606 and take over for Renton. Have him sit in the back seat. I'll get in the 909 to make sure nothing happens to it. Start pulling it out in five minutes. Go!"
Before Renton could object, the transmission was cut. He sighed. So Holland still doesn't approve of me…
Holland released his grip on the elevation lever and rushed back to where he had tied down the enemy pilots. He lifted their eyelids and found, to his relief, unmoving eyes. They were still unconscious. He tossed his submachine gun to a corner and holstered one of their pistols. Both hands were now free.
Hoisting the small pilot over his back and dragging the heavier one, Holland slowly made his way back to where the 909 was located. He climbed aboard, tied the two pilots down, and climbed into the cockpit. Five minutes had passed—the 909 began budging outward.
Back in the 606, Renton sat behind Eureka with a discontented frown. Eureka's doing what I was supposed to do…darn Holland, why did he have to be so…uh! Oh well…Eureka's safe. I kept my promise. Everything's okay now. Are you proud of me, sister?
-
"Well?" questioned Hap. "How was it?"
Holland turned to his companion and looked at the gathering mass behind him. The whole crew of the Gekko State was present. He looked at the two SOF pilots standing at the point of his gun. Then he looked over to Eureka, who stood near Renton. "All went well."
Hap eyed the two enemy pilots. He noted their black uniforms and SOF patches. "You've captured some enemies. They'd do well as hostages. We can also question them to find out more about the ambush today."
"Yeah…throw them in the rig for now." He eyed his blood-soaked clothes. "I need a shower."
Hap saluted casually. "Got it."
Disappointed groans resounded from the group gathered in the landing dock. They had come to hear what had happened. Stoner, camera in hand, was quick to suggest a retelling of what had taken place. Holland refused adamantly, giving him a dangerous look that unmistakably implied "don't piss me off with another article about Eureka with Renton."
Stoner approached Eureka instead, braving Holland's stare. "Hey, Eureka. Would you mind telling us what happened?"
"Um…" she began. "I was captured and then Holland rescued me. We took control of the SH-102, but lost it. It crashed. Renton helped us get back. He was riding in the 606."
Matthieu exchanged a worried glance with Jobs.
Renton beamed. "It was nothing."
"About the 606…" said Holland. He faced Renton and glared at him. Beads of sweat dripped down Renton's neck. "You had permission to ride it, correct?"
Matthieu nudged Jobs. Jobs shook his head and whispered, "Don't make it worse."
Renton stood still, paralyzed with fear. "I…I…"
"In the brig, Renton," Holland commanded. "Kidnappers and thieves make good roommates."
Renton struggled to respond, to defend himself, but found Holland's presence too daunting. He hung his head and stood beside the two SOF pilots. The boy scanned around for help but found nothing but empathetic gazes. Eureka's face spelt confusion.
Holland handed the gun over to Matthieu. "Let them out when I'm ready."
Renton sighed. The day was not going well for him. As Matthieu urged the SOF pilots—who remained silent—onward with the pistol, Renton was trying to comprehend Holland's actions. What's with him now, acting all high and mighty?
As soon as they were away from everybody else, the younger pilot spoke to Renton: "So it seems the legendary reffer is not as composed as the magazines portray him. You have my pity, Renton Thurston."
Renton was baffled. "How do you know my name?"
"Your fake mission was the cover story of the latest issue of rayout. How could I not recognize you? That confused, naïve look gave you away instantly."
Renton took the opportunity to closely inspect him. Beneath his military cover was a mesh of curled brown hair that complimented his olive green eyes. He was rather young for a U.F. pilot, just a little older and taller than Renton. He was slim and fit. A genuine smile was on his face as he told Renton his name. "Greetings. My name is Bennington Brightside."
"Ah…"
"And my brother is named Chester." He pointed to the taller pilot, who gave a small nod. Chester looked just like Bennington, except much bigger and mature. Clearly, he wasn't the talkative sibling.
"Why are you being so friendly to me?" Renton asked.
Bennington smiled again. "Mr. Novak said that we shall be roommates for an uncertain duration. I would rather befriend our roommate than begin on bad terms."
Matthieu addressed Renton sternly. "Yo, Renton. Don't forget that these guys kidnapped Eureka and tried to kill Holland. Don't wanna get too friendly with them yet."
"We did what was deemed necessary by our superiors: to free the female pilot of the Nirvash typeZERO from the criminal organization known as Gekko Sate," Bennington explained to his captors. "Our goals are different from yours, and should the truth be revealed in your favor, I fear my views may change. However, know that the kidnapping of Eureka was a mission for us—a mission which failed. Do not look upon the Brightside brothers with distaste or ill favor, for we were just doing our job. What's done is done."
He talks a lot, thought Renton, returning the smile.
"Well, we're here," said Matthieu. Before them was the steel hatch leading to the brig. Renton's stomach lurched with dreadful familiarity. "Talho or Eureka will be bringing food. Until then, you're stuck in the brig."
Renton gave an audible groan. He crawled in with the Brightside brothers and Matthieu shut the hatch door. It was dark and cold.
-
Holland came out of the shower wearing his signature pair of underpants. Bandages were wrapped around his entire body, some already soaked through with blood. These were the open wounds, located on his shoulders. His neck supported a pale, plum bruise which spread down his back. All of these injuries had come from the thrashing he had received while in the 909.
He entered the room that he shared with Talho with towel in hand. The lights were off; the whitish glow of the television set illuminated the room's couch. A figure was lying down on the couch with bare legs hanging over the edge. The figure got up, creating a silhouette that any man would instantly find attractive. She walked slowly over to Holland and looked him head to toe. She smirked.
"What?" grumbled Holland.
The woman was dressed in nearly as little clothing as Holland: a spaghetti strap top and mini skirt, both colored purple and white and revealing beautiful skin. She possessed grey-toned eyes layered with a retired wisdom. This woman was Talho Yuuki, Holland's significant other.
"You look terrible," she said affectionately.
Holland's normally loud voice was now a meek whisper. "I almost lost Eureka today." Talho's eyebrows raised slightly, evidently peeved. "I almost…"
Talho put her hand on Holland's chest, sliding it down gently. "It's okay."
Holland pulled her in close. They embraced for a long time, lost in one another's warmth. Thoughts raced through their minds about the last time they had been alone like this before. It was several years ago, back in their U.F. days.
"Talho…do you remember when we first…"
"Yeah. I'm glad you're safe. Eureka too."
Warmth. Security. Relief. And then more warmth.
End Chapter 3