"Observation: Puncture wound has fully healed, subdermal scarring to the musculature is minimal and will not impede functionality or operation. Systema Skeletale free from fractures or other significant structural damage. Systema nervosum reacting accordingly, however, there is a lack of sensitivity in both of your manibus and legs. Hypothesis: Indication of repeatedly healed micro stress fractures indicates this to be the result of a rigorous martial training regimen. Conclusion: Any lasting damage appears to be intentional for increased combat effectiveness. You are cleared duty without restriction," grated Archmagos Grozdan from his vox speakers. Melachantrites fitted with delicate medical instruments withdrawing into the depths of his crimson robes. Soft whirring heard as they were sterilized. The glowing red gaze from the interior of the crimson hood unreadable on the Archmagos' face, which had long ago lost any semblance of humanity.
"That is most fortunate to hear," said Henrich, dressing himself once more in his uniform.
"Inquiry: Have you been sexually active? Elevated levels of testosterone, oxytocin, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin indicate an intimate partner."
"No, I have not been," said Heinrich taken aback by the question.
"Cautionary: It is advised to refrain from establishing relationships romantic or otherwise with coordinators. Status as; human, abhuman, or mutant has not been determined yet. 60% chance of modified humans being labelled as abhuman or mutant. Conclusion: Potential for unintentional commitment of heresy or to be socially and professionally ostracized for past relationships remain high. If mutant status is confirmed, there is a 92% possibility that you will be tasked with aiding in their cleansing."
"I understand my duty," said Heinrich simply.
"Observation: Respiration rates, blood pressure, and heart rate rising. Skin beginning to perspire and discoloration of extremities all suggests preparation for aggressive action. Interrogative: Is this news distressing to you?"
"I...do not believe that coordinators should be labelled as abhuman, or mutant," said Heinrich choosing his words carefully. "Many people in the Imperium have experienced genetic drift and change which has altered them from the original human gene template. Whether as a result or environmental, evolutionary, or scientific factors, yet they have fallen under the umbrella of human still. Nor do I believe that the modifications to their genetic structure should constitute labelling them as artificial biological constructs. We Kriegers for example possess eyes that have adapted through genetic manipulation and generations of living in bunkers or under ash covered skies to low light environments, allowing us to see better in the dark. We have a layer of tapetum lucidum behind our retinas similar to felines and other nocturnal animals, yet are not considered beasts. If I may, I would also like to attempt to draw a correlation to the coordinators improving their reaction speeds and cognitive ability similar to Imperial citizens and followers of the Omnissiah. Those who improve their own abilities with techno wizardry, instead of a wider spread genetic enhancement applied to the populace as a whole."
"Rebuttal: Such enhancements are approved and ordained after careful evaluation and communion with the Omnissiah. They are used as an addition to an already acceptable human gene template, not an alteration of the template itself. Alterations even to sensory organs such as eyes is not substantial enough to cause concern or worry of genetic superiority, or harmful divergent evolutionary traits."
"Yet the alterations for the coordinators are subtle enough to not fall outside of the tolerances allowed for environmental variation," countered Heinrich.
"Statement: You have a personal interest for the verdict on the status of coordinators to be labelled as human. Conclusion: You wish to pressure me to weigh in on the voting body and change its majority to favour such an outcome."
"I would be grateful, were you to advance such a position before the Cult Mechanicus. As an Archmagos of the Adeptus Biologis sect, your observations would carry considerable weight."
"Inquiry: Why would I do that?"
"I, and by extension, the von Shreider family would be extremely grateful. Projects proposed by the Mechanicus would receive considerable support. Directly proportional to the efforts in this...endeavour."
"Demand: Unconditional support for project Uranus for unconditional support to see the coordinators labelled as human."
"Chances of success?" asked Heinrich.
"Answer: If a favourable outcome for the coordinators cannot be reached, no outcome will be reached. There are many obstacles that can be placed in the way of decision making in the Cult Mechanicus."
"By word and by deed then, you have leave to ask, or take whatever you wish from the family von Shreider, bar one of course."
"Concordance: And so we are ever more tightly bound Grand Lord Baron."
Those words followed Heinrich as he left the medical bay, aide following dutifully on his heels. Truth be told, he wasn't sure exactly what project Uranus was, only that it would aid the Imperium upon its completion. Then again, he supposed that he did have an inkling as to what the Archmagos was working on since he knew a little of his history, but those were just guesses. Perhaps it was folly to invest so heavily in projects he knew so little of, but his relationship with the techpriest was proving fortuitous. Even if his reasons were becoming entirely too personal.
"Hello sir," said a familiar voice and Heinrich berated himself for his elation at hearing it.
"Good morning Lieutenant," said Heinrich returning a quick salute, noting that the magenta haired pilot was dressed in her flight suit.
"I'm on alert standby after Rey, so I thought I'd get ready early," said Lunamaria, noticing Heinrich's look and correctly interpreting it. "Gotta admit, I'm more than a little nervous with everything that's going on and how undermanned we are. Not to mention alone and about to sail through EA territory," added Lunamaria. "Honestly it's kind of scary."
"It is normal to feel trepidation when faced with such unfavourable odds, but the pilots remaining aboard the Minerva are among ZAFT's best and the Minerva herself is the most advanced warship in ZAFT's arsenal.
"Yeah, I just wish that Emily was at 100% and Athrun was still with us. With just the three of us...I don't know if we're going to make it," admitted Lunamaria, trepidation in her voice.
"Lieutenant, may I offer advice?"
"Of course sir."
"Between officers, it is perfectly acceptable to voice your concerns and your doubts, but I've noticed an alarming comfortability among ZAFT officers and pilots to voice them to the enlisted crew. An officer is supposed to lead and inspire those under their command. To give them an ideal to aspire to and standard to achieve. An officer must also strive to forever improve themselves to be worthy of the privileges and authority bestowed upon them. They are responsible for the morale and resolve of those under their command and when the fighting men and women see those that they trust to lead them to victory doubting, or fearful of the road ahead, they too will feel doubt and fear. An officer who believes that there is no hope of victory will sap the fighting resolve of those who look to them. Your fellows are newly blooded, inexperienced, young, and fearful of what is to come. As an officer, you must inspire them, prevent division, and keep them focused on their mission. If you are confident and radiate an aura of calm when things are dire, so too will you calm and steel the resolve of those under your command. In that, I have full faith in you and your abilities as an officer."
"Thank you sir, I'll do my best to do that," said Lunamaria, making a visible effort to banish the trepidation from her face and voice.
"On a side note," added Heinrich. "If an officer is failing in that respect, do not chastise or confront them in front of the crew, unless the situation is so dire that their actions put the safety of the ship and its crew in jeopardy. You must do it in private, lest you risk undermining their authority and the image of their officer cadre as a whole."
"You know sir, you really have a habit of turning a morning greeting into some deep discussions," said Lunamaria smirking.
"I...suppose I do," admitted Heinrich.
"Oh, Emily said that you visited her the other day after we left."
"I took your advice to check on her well-being," admitted Heinrich.
"She said you asked her more questions than the doctors though," added Lunamaria grinning.
"I suppose I did question her thoroughly," said Heinrich.
"Oh, and sir? Can I give you some advice?"
"Of course Lieutenant."
"I get that staying aloof and being an example to live up to is important, but so is being personable. I get that with where you're from it's how you all do it, but acting like you're made out of stone the entire time is also a little unnerving to people. Try being a little more friendly with people, not unprofessional per se, just, a little less rigid."
"I will take your advice in good faith Lieutenant."
"Thank you sir. I mean, you sure do try to be more personable with me. Oh, I didn't mean to embarrass you sir."
"I can assure you that I am not embarrassed Lieutenant."
"Well, I can kinda tell when you are sir. I think you're just too used to your mask covering your face and the little tics it makes."
"I wouldn't call them tics Lieutenant."
"Like that, you purse your lips a little bit when you're embarrassed. You just did it again," teased Lunamaria.
"And you seem to always get a mischievous glint in your eyes when you believe you can make me uncomfortable," retorted Heinrich.
"Well, maybe I'm just a little mischievous? I've gotta get going though, sorry I'm not wearing my skirt today sir," said Lunamaria saluting, visibly trying to not to laugh as a bright blush spread across Heinrich's face as he returned it.
"How about we practice in the flight sim after tomorrow? How's that for confidence huh? I think we're going to live out the week."
Heinrich let out a pent up breath he didn't realize he'd been holding after Lunamaria left. Why did she vex him so? And why did he enjoy it so much?
xxx
Helen floated through the zero gravity of the observation gallery aboard the Mermaid, her long orange hair flowing behind her in a loose ponytail. She could see the earth through the nearly meter thick armoured glass tens of thousands of miles away, but not the moon since it was on the far side of the planet at the moment.
She remembered the first time she had seen the earth from space. How it had filled her with such awe and hope for the future. A hope for a better life and a brighter tomorrow without war. She remembered her fear at the time too. How she had been drafted as a Spearhead pilot in the last war, but before she had been sent into actual combat, she'd been redirected to train on the Dagger MS. Lucky for her too, those from her old unit who hadn't been redirected to MS training were sent to either Josh A, or else Panama. She didn't know anyone who went to either of those battles who made it out alive.
She had finally been sent into the final battle at Jachin Due and she still remembered how she felt at that time. How all she had felt was gut wrenching terror. How all she had wanted to do was turn her suit around and run the other way. She hadn't hated coordinators then, not liked them most definitely, especially with how N-Jammers had reduced her life in the Netherlands into abject poverty with the loss of most of their energy production. Hated them though? No, not hated.
She still remembered screaming as the Freedom came from out of the inky void of space at her, beam saber lit. How all she had seen was death coming for her, as though her life had been reflected in the glow of the blade. How she had dumbly, with shaking hands touched her flight suit to convince herself that she wasn't dead. That the Freedom had only disabled her dagger and carried on, saving her life in the process as she was kept out of the firing arc of GENESIS as a result. How when she had returned home to Holland, she had stayed in bed for a whole day and slept. Then, refused to let Lucas leave it for an entire day and night. Not that he had objected too much to his treatment, and Helen smiled wryly at the memory, hand playing with the wedding ring looped around her neck.
She had stayed in the military after that, needing the steady paycheck in the economic uncertainty that followed the end of the Bloody Valentine War. Lucas had been a doctor, but the Netherlands hadn't exactly been flush with cash at the end of the war. Even though it hadn't always been easy, what had followed had been two blissful years. She had been happy, content, whole. Willing, wanting to forgive and forget the terrible war and what had happened. How she had just wanted to live with Lucas. God, how she wished she would have agreed to give Lucas a child sooner.
She hadn't felt ready, wanted to wait, she could have had a piece of him left. A flesh and blood incarnation of their love, something to keep her whole and now it was too late. All she had left of him were pictures and a piece of gold. It was too late for everything now. Helen struck the view port with her fist in anger.
"Why didn't I make you leave that stupid clinic? I should have dragged you out of there and made you get to a shelter with everyone else! You would have hated me for it, but goddammit you'd still be alive! Why didn't you ever think of yourself?" raged Helen, striking the armoured viewing port like she wanted to shatter it and get sucked into the void of space.
"Why didn't you think of me?" asked Helen, voice dropping to a whimper as she rested her head against the glass. The rage draining from her and leaving her with nothing but emptiness and her grief as she wept. Her tears floating like sparkling diamonds in the observations deck.
She knew why he hadn't left to evacuate though. Why he had stayed, ready to help those who couldn't flee. It was because it had been who he was. It was the reason she loved him so damned much. Between them, he had been the calm one. Quick to forgive, always ready to help, never judging. He had strong shoulders to help carry any burden Helen couldn't on her own, and stronger arms that she had never felt safer than when wrapped in their embrace. He had been the healing water giving them life, while she had been the roaring fire giving them warmth and safety. With him gone now, there was nothing to quench the flames in her that raged out of control.
"I'll kill them. I swear to god, I'll kill them all for taking you from me," seethed Helen, tears still falling, but teeth gritting together in a feral snarl. "I won't leave a single one left, not a damned trace that they ever existed. I'll carve your name onto their damned graves so they can never forget. So they can know why they're dying like the rats they are. So they'll regret taking you from me, as I take everything from them."
A feeling like ice water washing over her cleared Helen's mind, sharpened her senses and when she opened her eyes again, saw her reflection in the glass. Her pupils were tiny, as though she was consumed with rage, but the iris of her eyes had expanded, making her eyes appear almost entirely blue. She felt invincible like this, like she had boundless energy. Helen didn't know exactly what this
was, but what she did know was it would let her kill the coordinators. She was learning how to control it so she could use it on command and once she could, nothing would stop her.
Xxx
"These boys really know how to party," remarked Selena idly to herself, seeing endless cycles of news figures talking about what they were calling the Second Bloody Valentine War on the pict viewers scattered around the airport terminal. A war that the opening salvo to had been a wave of nuclear missiles.
She and the rest of the girls were all getting recalled to the unit and she had gotten booked on a later flight that Rachael or Lisa. Imperial Guard was using local civil aviation for travel since it was both cheaper, and to put it bluntly; Selena doubted they really gave a shit if a couple of Guard boys and girls got blown out of the sky. But, if one had to travel the private sector was the way to go. Waaaay more comfortable than navy boats. Only question was, where was she going?
She read the destination on the ticket, but had no earthly idea where it was on the planet. Thankfully, there was a little interactive kiosk that showed flight paths and airports to any destination planet side.
Tropical island paradise, tropical island paradise, come on show me a tropical island paradise...FUCK!" cursed Selena a little too loudly with a local expletive that she had picked up. Drawing more than a couple of curious stares.
"Emperor's blade, why is it always a desert? Well, better than the arctic I suppose," huffed the Cadian.
"Excuse me? You're Sgt. Selena Williams right? The Imperial tank commander?"
Selena turned around, and was still somewhat shocked to see a woman with green hair standing there, along with an average sized man with more normal coloured brown hair.
"Yes ma'am, I'm Sgt. Selena Williams of his Imperial Majesty's most beneficent Imperial Guard. How can I be of service to you?" asked Selena, instantly turning professional.
"I've-we've been eager to meet you," said the woman indicating her and her husband.
"Dr. Douglas Porter," said the man extending his hand and Selena shook it.
"And I'm Dr. Isabelle Porter," added the woman quickly, shaking Selena's hand as well. "We saw what you did on the news and we really wanted to meet you ever since. Or, really any of your crew, but we're especially glad that it's you."
"I'm flattered ma'am, but I'm only as good as the girls they put with me, and I've got some of the best with me," said Selena, legitimately flattered a the praise, but still feeling incredibly awkward at receiving it.
"Do you have a moment to spare? We'd really like to talk with you. Coffee? Do you like coffee? Or a meal maybe?" asked the Mr. Dr. Porter.
"Well, I do have some time until my flight, and I wouldn't mind a bit to eat or some caff," said Selena, a little put off by how odd the couple were acting, but the guard didn't pay worth a damn and the food here was actually pretty good.
"Caff? I-I don't know if they have it here, but we could find some for you," offered Dr. Isabelle, confusion on her face.
"Oh, shit. Sorry, you guys call it coffee-fuck!" cursed Selena a second time realizing she had cursed in front of civilians in uniform, mentally berating herself for it, then berating herself again for doing it twice.
"You don't have tourettes, do you?" asked Dr. Isabelle, sounding concerned.
"No, I'm...not really supposed to use profanity in front of civilians," said Selena sheepishly, and was almost more disturbed by the look of relief on the Doctors Porter than their look of shock.
"Oh, good," said Dr. Douglas, like he had just narrowly avoided death.
Selena had seriously been wondering if a cup of caff and a sandwich would have been worth sitting with the two odd doctors for any length of time after that, but it turns out it most certainly was. They didn't just take her to a small kiosk that sold cheap caff, they took her to the nicest damned restaurant in the airport and basically made her get a full course meal and the best damned caff she had ever had. To put it mildly, the restaurant was far out of her price range. The only creepy thing being though, was how they just watched her eat, hardly picking at their own food and only chattering about unimportant small talk.
"You have very nice teeth," said Dr. Isabelle.
"Thank...you?" said Selena awkwardly.
"Did you need braces?" asked Dr. Douglas.
"No," said Selena, perturbed as to why they were asking about her teeth.
"Any your eyesight, 20/20? Uncorrected?" Pressed Dr. Isabelle.
"30/20, did great at gunnery school," answered Selena without really thinking. Maybe being doctors this was just what they asked about? Emperor knows she didn't know a whole lot of doctors other then when she really needed to know them.
"And your family, any history of cancer? Schizophrenia? Heart conditions?" quizzed Dr. Douglas.
"No, people prone to those kinds of diseases died out pretty quick on Cadia, and from what I know of my family generally lives to their one fifties, give or take. Not that we ever really die of old age on Cadia," answered Selena honestly. After all, Cadia was a fortress world. Only the strongest survived there and those with genetic deficiencies were removed from the gene pool. Either by medical mandate or by Darwinian selection. Those who became too old to fight, too slow on the draw didn't usually fare all that well on the battlefield either whenever they had their small planetary incursions by the arch-enemy. Not even to speak of a Black Crusade. Selena felt more trepidation though at the pleased look the two doctors shared between each other at the answer than her first fire fight.
"Do you know your IQ?"
"Uh...I mean I was drafted in my teens for training and didn't really finish normal schooling, but the Guard seems to think that I'm smart enough to let me apply for practically any job they have. Well, except for being a pilot since I don't have a university degree. Not that they'd ever let the Navy get a hold of one of their warm bodies. I'm sorry, but this is getting a little...odd," said Selena.
"You're very beautiful you know," said Dr. Isabelle.
"Um...thank you?" said Selena, unsure of what else to say.
"Oh, of course, we're probably coming across as a pair of psychos," said Dr. Isabelle with a nervous laugh that made Selena change the grip on her steak knife without fully realizing it.
"We have some friend in the PLANTs still, and we're...um, well, coordinators you see," began Dr. Douglas.
"Not that we support them in any way, we're completely loyal to the Atlantic Federation," added Dr. Isabelle quickly, her husband nodding his head in agreement.
"But my colleagues on the PLANTs."
"Who we condemn for their aggression against the earth," added Dr. Isabelle quickly.
"They've said that of the Imperials they've treated, they've found some remarkable qualities in them. Genetic qualities that we thought were impossible to improve in a human being."
"Not that a human being needs any improving," said Dr. Isabelle again, her husband quickly agreeing with her.
"But," began Dr. Isabelle, hesitance in her voice. "Of the Imperials that they treated in just routine health checks, and with the case of Dmitri Ivanov of the Imperial Navy and Veronica Harding of the PLANTs-a coordinator, they found...well, you see," trailed off Dr. Isabelle.
"Coordinators have certain...attributes granted because of our genetic treatments. Intelligence, reaction speed, mostly things related to the nervous system or brain, as well as some physical benefits like a strengthened immune system. But, it came at an unpredictable cost."
"You see, co-we, we can't get pregnant easily. Can't have children, since by the third generation of coordinators, which Douglas and I both are, we become sterile. Which is why the PLANTs have such draconian marriage laws and why we left."
"We value the freedom of the Atlantic Federation far more than their fascistic government on the PLANTs," said Dr. Douglas quickly, and it reminded Selena of how guardsmen would talk when they were sure a commissar would put a bolt in their skull if they said the wrong thing.
"But, Veronica Harding, she was a third generation coordinator. It should have been impossible for her to conceive, even with the IVF treatments. Even with all the extra treatments and procedures she did, there was no way to cure the sterility of third generation coordinators. The best scientists and biologists couldn't fix it. But then, with an Imperial, she had twelve children. Twelve. It's...it's unheard of. Every egg from the IVF took, every child came out healthy, and every one of them possessing the physical superiority of the father's genetic code. And I've heard, they've said...they've said that the curse of the coordinators. The sterility that comes in the third generation, it's gone. The genetic marker is absent. Erased. Every one of their children was made a coordinator and they'll all grow without the marker. If it wasn't for this war, it's all the PLANTs would be talking about. They're...cured," said Dr. Isabelle, having to pause and wipe at her eyes, her husband grasping her hand to comfort her.
"It's been getting hard to contact Imperials now. They've been deployed planet side, but they're being increasingly restricted to their aid missions and not allowed interaction outside of it. There's been talk, talk of a black market forming on the PLANTs, but it's all but dried up after the Armoury 1 raid," said Dr. Douglas, lowering his voice. "But even before that it's been unreliable, you never know who the donor is, and it's not from the best of subjects. It's usually not stored properly either. It's extraction is also rather...crude. The samples exclusively from male donors."
"Oh my throne, you're buying serf cum," said Selena, jaw dropping in shock.
"Your...menial caste I suppose? Yes, I...I suppose that's what's happening, but they're usually sickly. They have genetic deficiencies that take a great deal of time and effort to correct. The regular Imperials won't sell their own genetic samples, the punishment for it I've heard can be extremely severe. The samples provided usually aren't in the best of conditions, and the nature of their delivery doesn't allow for the time necessary to ensure proper testing for viability."
"Obviously we've been looking for a good donor, a healthy donor. One with a strong genetic template. And getting eggs as opposed sperm is more reliable, more stable for the kind of work that needs to be done. And Douglas and I, we want it to be our child if at all possible. If I carry it, Douglas can inseminate it and it'll inherit traits from me as well. I'll finally get to feel life grow inside of me," said Dr. Isabelle, with almost a manic hope that was concerning to both see and hear. "When we saw your picture, we knew we had found who we wanted to be our donor. Then when we saw that you'd be passing through here," trailed off the doctor.
"What the fuck," mumbled Selena, words spilling past her lips, before she could stop herself.
"No, no, no, it'll be perfectly discreet. Nobody would ever know what happened, you wouldn't get in trouble," said Dr. Isabelle quickly.
"Completely safe too. I'm a neurosurgeon and Isabelle is cardiologist, the best on the Eastern Seaboard, but we know good gynecologists. The best in the Atlantic Federation, maybe the whole Earth Sphere. It'd only take a few minutes at most," added Dr. Douglas quickly.
"Look, I'm not interested," said Selena, wondering how the hell she had gotten into this situation. Guess there really was no such thing as a free lunch.
"If compensation is an issue, we can pay, quite well," said Dr. Isabelle.
"Isabelle and I both run very successful practices," added Dr. Douglas.
"Look, it's not a money thing," began Selena.
"We can offer a million dollars," cut off Dr. Isabelle.
"I don't-"
"Per egg. Or-or, we could pay out your contract with the Imperial Guard. We've heard you can do that with Imperial Navy personnel. It's the same for the Guard right? A-and give you a monthly stipend for the rest of your life."
Now Selena was legitimately afraid, hair on the back of her neck standing on end. If any of the commissariat ever got wind of what this conversation was about, her brains would quickly decorate a brick wall. Conspiring with non-Imperial citizens to get out of her service early? That was treason. Some would say heresy. Fuck...they might burn her at the stake for that. Maybe this was all a bizarre loyalty test?
"Thank you for your time, have a good day and I wish you luck in your search," said Selena rising from the table and quickly heading for the entrance of the restaurant, face having turned chalky white.
"No, wait. Please," said Dr. Isabelle catching up to her outside of the restaurant and grabbing her arm. "If it's not enough, we can pay more, take out a loan. Please," said the doctor desperately, tears in her eyes.
"Do you understand how fucking dangerous what you just offered me is?" hissed Selena lowly, very much aware of the attention they were drawing to themselves. "You want to know why everyone is so scared to deal with people like you? It's because you don't understand the Imperium at all. A non-Imperial offering to pay out my service in the middle of a crusade? Do you understand what that is? They call that treason, if not fucking heresy. They'd kill me and my entire crew for shit like that. Now. Let. Go."
"Honey, we can find someone else. It's okay," said Dr. Douglas, putting his hand on his wife's arm.
"There is no one else," sobbed Dr. Isabelle, but letting go and Selena turned sharply on her heel and started walking away, fixing her tan tanker beret so it sat properly on top of her groomed blonde hair.
"Hey, patchworkers!" came a call from behind Selena, followed by some indistinct words that she was doing her best to ignore. She didn't want to get involved in whatever was going to happen, and then there was the sound of flesh being struck, and Dr. Isabelle yelping in pain. Then more angry voices.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" hissed Selena quietly to herself, spinning sharply on her heel again, grabbing her tan beret and fitting it under the epaulette of her Sergeant's uniform. She wasn't supposed to get involved in domestic disputes, but there was no way in hell she was going to stand by and let the nice, if very weird doctors get the shit beat out of them or worse.
The red sash across her front standing out starkly against the khaki material as she advanced, a row of ribbons lining her breast. If any had cared or been able to read them, they'd have recognized medals for valour, dedication, faith, and campaigns against: orks, tyranids, and heretics. If any had been able to read the patches sewn onto her sleeve, they'd have seen patches for excellence in physical fitness, exceptional marksmanship, and one denoting her as a certified unarmed combat instructor.
"HEY!" roared Selena in a voice honed on parade grounds and battlefields, voice booming across the terminal, and putting a temporary halt to what was quickly becoming a lynch mob.
"BACK AWAY! MOVE BACK FROM THEM! DO IT CITIZEN!" barked Selena, pushing her way into the center of the mob, shoving back a man who was holding down Dr. Douglas. His wife holding her hand to a rapidly blackening eye.
"They're patchworkers!" yelled one of the crowd.
"Coordinator scum!" yelled another.
"They're a stain on our blue and pure world!"
"You killed coordinators! Why are you helping them?" demanded another of the crowd.
"I fought scum attacking innocent people, something I'm more than prepared to do again. Now back up!" barked Selena.
A fist came out of the press of bodies, hitting Selena in the back of the head, and she bowed her head slightly, before righting herself and looking back at the man that had hit her, murder in her eyes.
"That's your one free shot," growled the Cadian menacingly.
Selena saw a member of the crowd winding up to hit the doctors and got in between the blow, and shattered the nose of the man who threw it. Then everything passed in a blur as it turned into a swirling melee.
Most of the crowd scattered as the fighting started, or stood back a few paces egging on the participants, or else screaming shrilly as the punches were thrown. Selena fought almost silently, fighting as she had been trained to do. A Cadian child who couldn't field strip a rifle at the age of six was born on the wrong planet so the saying went. A warrior people forming the bulwark against the Eye of Terror. Hardened from constant conflict and refined with millennia of military tradition. These people? Soft civvies barking like stray dogs, only dangerous in a pack. Even if she wasn't four times stronger than anyone else present, she still would have won.
Selena kicked a man through the large front window of the restaurant she had just been dining in, shattering the glass, before catching the arm of a man who had just tried to stab her, forcing his arm into a painful lock. Then bouncing his face off a set of waist high stone planters, spraying blood and teeth across the floor, as well as bending the man's arm much farther than it should have been able to, a wet crack and shrill howl of pain accompanying it.
Breathing hard, Selena brought hands back into a fighting stance, surrounded by a small circle of people no longer able to fight, bleeding and groaning, or else limping away. The usual onlookers gawking from what they thought was a safe distance away.
"Anyone else want to step up?!" demanded Selena. "You all want to fight so bad? How about you start with me? What? Only hate coordinators when nobody fights back? Well here's your chance, you only have to get through me! No one?"
Selena spat a gob of bloody phlegm from her split lip onto the floor as she stared down anyone who seemed like they might still want to try their luck.
"Pussies," muttered Selena to herself, before going to help the Doctors Porter, who had still taken a few hits in the melee.
"I'll walk you guys to the exit, or, I guess maybe we'll all go sit with the local police for a while huh?" chuckled Selena.
"Thank you for that," said Dr. Isabelle. "Even though we're, you know," she trailed off.
"What? Coordinators? Lady, the galaxy is a big place and I've seen people with some serious modifications done to them like you wouldn't believe. Look," said Selena dropping her voice as they broke away form the gaggle of onlookers.
"We didn't mean to trouble you like this," said Dr. Douglas.
"Trouble? Sir, they came looking for trouble and I've gotten very good at making trouble go away. Look, about your thing," said Selena, feeling Dr. Isabelle clutch at her arm more tightly, desperate hope in her eyes.
"You've reconsidered?"
"If you give me your number, or some way to reach you, I can let the girls from the regiment know what you're offering. DON'T offer to pay out their service contracts, they'll run for the hills if you do that. It should be fine if you just want to pay them though. I think anyways, I'll double check. A couple should go for it, but if someone named Cathy McGuire responds, start very low with the offer or she'll bleed you dry. She's kind of a cunt, but maybe gene therapy can edit that out?" wondered Selena aloud, getting a giggle from Dr. Isabelle who was practically bouncing with excitement, despite the bruises.
"We won't forget this," said Dr. Douglas excitedly.
"I don't think my superior officers will either," muttered Selena glumly as a quartet of local police started heading towards them.
Being from the Imperium, Selena still wasn't used to the abundance and prevalence of personal electronic devices that everyone here seemed to carry, or the fact that she was being recorded by several during her entire confrontation with the anti-coordinator mob. She would also learn only much later, that said video was quickly uploaded to the internet and soon became the most watched video on the collection of colonies known as the PLANTs and among ZAFT personnel. The image of a tall, beautiful, Imperial soldier fighting off a mob to protect a pair of coordinators making her an instant sensation.
Xxx
Rising was always a labour in itself for Hassan, the Imperial cardinal was centuries old, life prolonged only the by will of the Emperor and the glorious machine spirits of the Omnissiah. A team of adepts would bathe and clothe him, while a tech priest made any necessary adjustments to his life support systems that saw to his continued existence.
He was growing increasingly infirm and feeble as the years wore on, knew that eventually he would die as all things must, yet while his body decayed, his mind had not. He still had his mental faculties at his disposal, and while his arms and limbs had withered and decayed so he could hardly do anything for himself now, he had many faithful servants more than willing to act as his limbs.
In his heart he knew that the reason he was still alive, was because the Emperor had a task for him. One that he believed had finally revealed itself to him, and he refused to die before he had completed the holy mission entrusted to him.
When he was finally dressed and able to move under the power of his life support cradle, a quartet of Sororitas bodyguards escorted him to the audience chamber. The great double doors emblazoned by an aquilla in solid diamond, lines of faith cut so delicately and precisely into the stone that when light reflected on it, prayers were displayed on any surface nearby. Hassan read a verse that was reflected onto his chest.
As I have been called to the holy work, so will I call others to me.
"An omen," murmured Hassan, his resolve now absolute.
The great doors opened for him and Hassan entered, taking his seat at the head of the table, all other attendees standing for his arrival. No, not him. What he represented. He was only ever the Emperor's faithful servant, and they looked to him for guidance to ensure they stayed true to the Emperor's path. He would never fall prey to such arrogance as to believe he was anything more than a servant chosen to commune the Emperor's wishes.
"Be seated," rasped Hassan, taking his seat at the head of the table. "Now, how do our efforts progress?" asked the Cardinal, looking to a richly dressed noble with a glowing blue augmetic eye. A servo skull hovering over his shoulder.
"Goodwill and public opinion from the populace on the planet body is at an all time high due to our relief efforts and continued neutrality in the system's conflict. There was a slight dip with the release of a video showing an Imperial soldier assaulting naturals to protect coordinators, but this was countered in turn by a massive spike in positive public opinion from the PLANT colonies. Imperial presence is seen as a moderating and stabilizing force in system. We are viewed by the majority as a level-headed third party working for the betterment of the people in the system."
"Good, what about militarily?" asked Hassan looking to a navy officer with nerual cables snaking from the base of his skull.
"The intensity of the conflict between the space based coordinators and planet based naturals is intensifying at an exponential rate. With the damage sustained to both their civilian and industrial bases, even with ramping up to mass production of the mobilesuits and other military equipment, we predict that within a year they will be experiencing a severe manpower shortage which will be felt most strongly among their pilot cadre. We expect 90% of all current military assets, both void based and terrestrial will be destroyed or damaged beyond repair within six months. Reserves of munitions and stockpiles of outdated weaponry save for small arms will be entirely used up within the next month, which will make them entirely reliant upon newly produced armament."
"What of the quality of their non pilot or ship based soldiers?" asked Hassan, to an Imperial Guard General, head shaved bald and scars cutting deep grooves into the side of his face.
"Poor. Most experienced land forces were decimated in the last war, along with many of their experienced officers and NCO corps. Focus has shifted away from infantry and other combined arms training, relying almost entirely upon their mobilesuit forces. There are some special forces groups with adequate training, but they are few in number. Again, due to the bulk of their military funding and training going to more mobilesuit and naval production. Their ground forces are armed with low grade auto rifles and we would expect resistance similar to a local militia, rather than the army of a nation state. The Equatorial Union has substantial ground forces, spared from the attrition heavy fighting of the last war, but having taken the brunt of the damage from the planet strike, and their aggressive posture towards the coordinators, we expect that most of their forces will be expended before we take any action. So long as they do not attempt any more planet strikes, or launch a fission attack with the possibility of wiping out too large a percentage of the population, we shouldn't need to intervene. My staff's estimate is that in approximately 14 months they will be too weakened to provide any significant resistance to our occupation forces."
"Good. How large of a threat are their mobilesuit forces?"
"Answer:" Began an Archmagos, spider like metallic legs supporting him. Face hidden in the depths of a voluminous red hood. Blue augmetic sensors peering from within the gloom of his hood.
"Early models, low threat. Medium cannon calibre projectile weapons, large target profile, and poor top speed. Vulnerable within the planet's atmosphere, more dangerous in void combat. Highly manoeuvrable and incredibly effective when given a coordinator pilot. Present and new models, high threat. Phase shift armour impervious to ballistic or physical weaponry that cannot overpower the shielding. Still, weak to energy or heat weapons. Lascannon shots will be highly effective against them still. Beam weapons carried by mobilesuits capable of destroying Imperial fighter craft and ground forces with relative ease. Threat to Imperial Capital and escort ships is negligible. They do not have the power output necessary to drain void shield capability. More powerful weapons possessed by the two sides appear to only be in the low megaton range. Projected Imperial Victory likelihood 99.999921% probability if forced to open conflict, before their forces are expended against one another."
"And still no contact with the rest of the Imperium?" asked Hassan to the leader of the astropaths, his eyes bound with strips of cloth and a pair of Sororitas minders standing over his shoulder.
"There is nowhere to send the message," said the Astropath after a moment's pause, causing deathly silence to follow.
"What?" rasped Hassan.
"When we entered the warp on our way to the crusade destination, there was an anomaly that originated from the Ecclesiarchial ships. It tore us off course and into...I'm not even sure what. Where we are now, the warp currents are calm and although we can see, we do not see the Astronomicon. The galaxy here is familiar, but at the same time entirely different. We could plot a course to any Imperial planet in our database, but it would be uninhabited, save for local flora and fauna. We see no way to return to the Imperium, or send and receive messages to them. So far as we can tell, we are in a place entirely absent of the Imperium. It is why so many of my brothers and sisters went mad. We can no longer see the Emperor. As such, it may be that our crusade's objectives may no longer be possible to achieve."
"Are any commanders outside of this room aware of this?" asked Hassan.
"Only those who need be aware of them, your grace. The Lord Militant and Lord Admiral are aware, and perhaps a few that they deemed needed to be privy to the information. The Adepta Telepathica is aware and in due time I believe that this will become common knowledge as people are unable to send or receive psychic messages to the greater Imperium. We will not be able to blame it on difficult conditions forever."
"I see, that is unfortunate news," said Hassan and gestured to the Sororitas behind the head Astropath.
Without a second of hesitation, the fist sororitas clubbed the astropath to the ground with her bolter and the second fired a burst of explosive shells into the body of the psyker, causing it to explode into bloody fragments.
There was a moment of pandemonium as the great doors leading to the meeting room flung open at every side and Sororitas bodyguards flooded in, bolters up and aiming, but lowering moments later after securing the cardinal and seeing that it was their own sisters who had executed the astropath.
"Gentlemen, it appears that astropaths and navigators are now the greatest threat to our great and glorious crusade. I motion that we move to secure or execute those who could fall to this new heresy and that all telepathic messages be allowed to be sent by only high level Crusade and Ecclesiarchial figures. We can only pray that the Lord Militant and Lord Admiral have been spared from any heresy that has spewed from these psyker mouths."
There was a moment of hesitation among the Imperial figures, but the iron smell of blood in the air hung heavy and with Sororitas armed with bolters surrounding them, the motion was passed unanimously. For the glory of the crusade and the Emperor, the telepaths would be silenced, and the navigators caged.
xxx
"OH! You can see the teeth! Look, look!" laughed Vino, showing the video to Yolan, the two young technicians laughing at the spliced video that showed an Imperial beating the every loving hell out of a lynch mob in the Atlantic Federation, complete with edits that put sound effects and meme pictures in it.
"Shinn! Hey, Shinn! You gotta come see this, it's great," said Vino, flagging down the red jacketed elite.
"You think she's single?" Asked Yolan.
"Dude, it looks like she'd crush you."
"You know what? I'm oddly okay with going out like that," said Yolan and both technicians laughed again.
"Here, here, you gotta watch this," said Vino once Shinn had joined them, and started the video from the beginning again.
"Why the hell are they living in the Atlantic Federation? Why are you watching this?" growled Shinn, watching the mob start to attack the coordinator couple.
"No, no, keep watching," urged Vino and a moment later a tall woman in a khaki uniform entered the frame, edited in music quickly cutting in and from then on, it was a series of quick edits of the Imperial beating the hell out of the mob.
"This is pretty funny, but there's the unedited version online if you want to see it. It's actually kind of wholesome."
"Like the volleyball anime you watch."
"Yolan, why do you have to keep bringing that up?" asked Vino blushing in embarrassment.
"Because it's wholesome Vino."
"I said that one time Yolan."
"And it was wholesome. Like volleyball anime Vino."
"How are you guys joking over stuff like this?" demanded Shinn, anger rising.
"Volleyball?" asked Vino surprised.
"No, the naturals trying to kill us!" raged Shinn, taking Vino's phone and hurling it against the far wall.
"Hey! Dude, that's my phone!" protested the technician.
"Eight colonies wiped out and you're laughing at coordinators getting attacked?"
"Laughing at the ones attacking them getting the shit beat out of them," defended Yolan.
"Maybe you should spend less time laughing at stupid videos and spend more time being concerned with how the Earth Alliance wants us all dead and that it's just us out here after we leave Orb waters," said Shinn, an uneasy silence descending on the rec room at his words. Other crew members stopping what they were doing to listen to him.
"Try taking this seriously Vino, maybe when we lose another two million people you won't think it's funny."
"I didn't think," began Vino.
"Hey Shinn, I need your help with something real quick," said Lunamaria from the doorway.
"Can't it wait?" demanded the ace.
"No, it's really important," said Lunamaria, gesturing for Shinn to follow her. With a huff, Shinn did and followed her out of the common room, and into a presently empty briefing room.
"You can't do that," said Lunamaria, immediately after closing the door.
"Do what?" demanded Shinn.
"Lose your cool in front of the crew and berate them for having a good time when it's not hurting anything and it's their time. How much do you think what you just did hurt morale?"
"Are you actually saying this Luna? They need to take what happened seriously and realize that we're at war," retorted Shinn hotly.
"We all know we're at war Shinn, and everybody's scared. Everybody's concerned that the next attack on the PLANTs will have their family be next. What we don't need is for everyone to keep dwelling on how bad our situation is right now, or constantly worried about home. We need people to stay focused and committed if we're going to have any chance. As officers it's our duty to do just that. People look up to us Shinn, you especially since they handpicked you to fly the Impulse. We need you to keep a cool head. With Rey, me, and Emily we can complain all we want, and get as mad as we want, but not in front of the crew."
"Don't tell me how to feel, don't you dare!" said Shinn hotly.
"I'm not telling you how to feel, I'm just asking you to think of the crew before you act. You're an officer, Shinn, you need to lead and that means keeping your emotions in check when it can hurt morale."
"You know you've been acting and talking really strange since you started hanging out with that Imperial General," said Shinn.
"He knows how to be a soldier and an officer Shinn. He knows how to put the mission above his own emotions."
"And I don't?" demanded Shinn.
"Right now? No, you don't."
"Oh really? Well tell me then, what else have you learned from him Luna? From all this time you've spent alone with him?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Lunamaria.
"Meyrin told me about how your family was abducted off the PLANTs before the Earth Alliance attacked, and how the General just so happened to have a phone that could reach them when nobody else could call home. You say I'm not committed? Maybe you've been making your own deals to make sure your family gets through this all this and to hell with the rest of us? Maybe you're more committed to the Imperials than ZAFT? At least I'm not making deals on my knees."
"Damn you," seethed Lunamaria. "You think I made a deal? That I knew any of this was going to happen? I thought my entire family was dead Shinn! Meyrin was damned near catatonic and I had no idea how the hell I was going to get us through it! I still have no idea how any of us are going to make it through this, but we have to keep morale up, or we won't make it."
"Must be hard just thinking your family is dead," said Shinn dismissively.
"Fuck. You." growled Lunamaria.
"Now who's not acting like an officer Lunamaria? Is that how your General told you to address a superior officer?"
"No. Sir," said Lunamaria, straightening to a position of attention, looking straight ahead.
"Tch, unbelievable," muttered Shinn, turning and leaving Lunamaria alone in the briefing room. When the door shut, Lunamaria threw her helmet in anger against the wall, gritting her teeth and breathing heavily though her nose, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. In. Hold. Out. Once she didn't want to bash Shinn in the head with her helmet, she picked it up and went back to the rec room.
"Looks like your phone is still good."
"Yeah, good thing I got the platinum edition phone cover. Man, what is his problem."
"So, what's this I hear about a video?" asked Lunamaria, adopting an easy smile.
"Oh, Luna, you gotta see this," said Vino and started playing the video again, Lunamaria forcing herself to laugh a little more than she normally would.
"Hey you guys, come see this," said Lunamaria. "Vino, hook it to the TV so we can all see," prodded Lunamaria, and soon everyone was laughing at the video, the tension from earlier disappearing. It reappeared immediately again though, once alarm klaxons began to blare. A deathly silence falling on those assembled.
"Alright, looks like we're going to show somebody who's not all that bright why you don't pick a fight with the Minerva," said Lunamaria with confidence she didn't feel. "Yolan, you keep my Zaku ready to go or am I going to have to sit and pout?"
"Ready to go, with a few improvements I might add," said Yolan, his pride in his work shining past his fear.
"Nice, knew I could count on you. Well, let's not keep our guests waiting huh?" said Lunamaria, grinning, but feeling like she was going to throw up.
AN: Happy with how fast I made this chapter, and I really wanted to explore more on the sterility problem that coordinators face, since it seems like that would be a pretty big culture point for them and add a new dynamic between Imperial, Naturals, and Coordinators. Also, I may be a little biased, but I prefer my version of Lunamaria who doesn't just follow after Shinn when he starts pouting. I've also tried to focus more on the dynamics going on in the background and a little bit on human nature. As always, read and review and I'll try to get back to all of you, but I don't always remember who I've responded to, so I'm sorry if I miss you.