Start 12.2.13
Act II: The Conflagration
Shh-sh shh-sh shh-sh.
Shh-sh shh-sh shh-sh.
Brushes shimmied back and forth across white porcelain. The cold, sterile room was near soundless if not for the slow and painstaking work of the tiny brush heads.
Shh-sh shh-sh shh-sh.
Shh-sh shh-sh shh-sh.
The two crouching men labored in silence, their arms working mechanically. Their faces were uninterested and tired as they toiled away for the umpteenth hour of this brushing.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.
Shshshshshshshshshshsh!
Fuji finally tossed down his toothbrush and hung his head. The little plastic brush clattered against the bathroom floor. He groaned in agony, "Aren't you sick of this, Uncle?"
The Sergeant continued to brush the urinal in front of him, resigned to his fate. "I am," he answered in a low voice, "but nothing we do will make this go by faster. Let's just bear it until it's over."
An unhappy frown pulled down the sides of Fuji's mouth. Unsure of how his uncle could endure this torture with such dignity, he reluctantly took up the toothbrush again.
Shh. Shh. Sshh.
How did he end up like this, Fuji wondered. Like other people his age, he grew up during times of constant war. He believed that the fighting finally ended years ago, but that was naive. It was always hard to believe war was at their doorstep, and they were readying themselves for it now.
Relena Darlian's face was constantly being broadcast on television these days as she managed relations between the Earth and colonies of the Earth Sphere. Fuji and many of the other soldiers had a terrible crush on her. But how did he go from joining the military to defend the honor of Princess Relena and the Sanc Kingdom to scrubbing urinals with a toothbrush?
He deserved this, in a sense, Fuji reasoned to himself. When Fuji first enlisted to be a mobile suit pilot, never in his wildest imaginings did he know he could be such a screw-up.
In his very first time starting up a mobile suit, Fuji had accidentally left his suit's drive mode on "SCRAM!" instead of "walk". One moment he was gingerly feeling the accelerator pedal, and the next he was on the ground, on the other side of a concrete wall, with every engineer and his brother crying bloody murder. Thankfully, the mangled suit and Fuji's pride were the only victims.
But that was not the reason he was sentenced to cleaning the stalls with a toothbrush for the next month. During last week's training exercise, his mobile suit became completely caked with paint rounds in the first 40 seconds. Fuji and the mechanics were cleaning paint out of the suit's joints for days. The color green now caused him to fly into frothing fits of rage.
The one who did that to Fuji was the man laboring next to him, the Sergeant of Fire Team 2. He had been sentenced the same punishment as Fuji after a long lecture on conserving ammunition. On one hand, the other pilots knew their instructor was just being anal like usual, but on the other, they could not conceive of how a reserved man like the Sergeant could be so aggressive as to unload an entire magazine into a single target.
Many pilots feared the Sergeant for his skill, having annihilated a target (his nephew, by chance) within the opening seconds of an operation, but at the same time, they felt he was unknowable. He was often distant and kept to himself, but spoke and acted with competence when directing his team.
Fire Team 2 was one of ten firing squads, each one made up of five pilots. Altogether, the fifty pilots commanded the entire fleet of the Earth Sphere Defense Force's new mobile suit, the Serpent-V. It was a medium-build, transformable variant of the OZ-17MS Serpent. They were to function similarly to a paratrooper division, capable of moving behind enemy lines and fighting while completely surrounded. There were rumors that the flight technology of the Serpent-V came from the fabled Unit 01: the Wing Gundam.
"Do you think it's true?" Fuji pondered.
"What is?" His uncle responded. He was often perturbed when people spoke without context.
"That there is a Gundam pilot collaborating with ESDF? The design of our Serpent-Vs line up so closely with the records of Unit 01."
"I suppose it's possible," the Sergeant surmised. "Our training regiment isn't exactly normal, either. But from where we're standing, it's hard to tell who is pulling the strings. Our mobile suits might be a little better than some, but we're still just grunts with wings."
"Do you think the Gundam pilots have anything to do with the special test at the end of our training regiment?" Fuji continued.
"I don't know." The Sergeant answered honestly. "But the nature of the program has been kept highly secret, even from officers. I'm guessing it could be a selection program for specialized team of some kind-elite...maybe even black-ops..."
Chills ran up Fuji's spine. "Hearing that is really making me nervous. I wish I could spend my off time practicing more, but I'm stuck cleaning every stupid bathroom on the base with a freaking toothbrush...!" Fuji ground the brush into the porcelain with all his might, clenching his teeth.
The Sergeant shared Fuji's frustration but did not say so in words. He could only scrub away further, feeling his own life dull as the urinal became brighter.
The bathroom door slammed open, and a strained voice shouted, "Move it!" Another soldier stampeded in, nearly trampling Fuji and his uncle, and unzipped his trunks in front of one of the urinals. The other two men were aghast at the faucet-like outpour that came out of their teammate.
"All of our hard work!" Fuji lamented. "What the hell, man!"
"Watch where you're splashing..." Fuji's uncle added.
A heavy sigh of relief pervaded the room. "Sorry, boys. Some things just can't be helped." Matthew Ichabod Larson zipped up his pants and went to wash his hands.
"Are you going to help us clean this?" Fuji pressed, clearly upset.
"Pfft. No!" The blond-haired rebel was already leaving. "I wasn't the one that messed up so bad. Have fun with your toilets." The door closed behind him.
Fuji muttered under his breath, "Jerk... Some team player!"
"Enough of this." The Sergeant finally put his foot down. "Let's just pack up and go. This will have to do for now."
The young ensign was elated. They gathered up their brushes, soap, and other paraphernalia, but as the Sergeant picked up the bucket filled with their things, it slipped from his hand and crashed into the bathroom floor, splitting the tiles to pieces.
"This thing weighs a ton... I'll never get used to this gravity." He lifted the bucket again more gingerly, thinking of how he would have the tile repaired. Fuji propped the door open as the two men exited into open space of ESDF's elite training colony, the buildings wrapping all the way around the expansive inner torus, the open air busy with energy, marching, and combat drills.
Episode I: Forging Swords
Searing lungs. Aching legs. Delirious mind. That was the daily experience of the Sergeant of Fire Team 2. It was the lot of anyone who trained on Base Morning Star.
He urged himself onward, his legs threatening to give out with every step. His delirious state often made him wish he could breathe through his skin like an amphibian. His lungs screamed, overtaxed, unable to keep up with his body's unholy craving for oxygen. Physical training on Morning Star was torturous.
The colony's simulated gravity was greater than that of the Earth, created by rotating the colony structure at a higher speed. The Sergeant had once calculated the increase using a bathroom scale. For the duress he experienced, the ratio was much smaller than he expected. But it was enough. It was enough to make every endeavor a struggle. And it was enough to make him want to quit and die every time he was ordered out to physical training.
But that was not the entirety of their regimen. There were the numerous lectures: combat history, physics and materials courses, mobile suit design theory, mobile suit tactics, and more. Combat training was full-contact and brutal. Mobile suit exercises were fast-paced and unforgiving. There was nearly no time for sleep. But above all, Morning Star pilots were expected to be dedicated to physical training.
The Sergeant excelled in the lectures. He was an intellectual by nature. He was young and had never piloted a mobile suit before, but his intuition and his brilliance made him formidable. It was why he was selected to lead his team. The others understood this well. But he was never an athlete.
His ensigns had begun to acclimate to Morning Star's gravity. The Sergeant had acclimated, too, in a sense. Even though it was difficult for him, he was happy that he was in the best shape of his life. But even as he ran now, he was soaked and blinded by perspiration. The other members of Team 2 jogged ahead by 20 or 30 feet, the gap ever increasing.
This was a regular occurrence. He was meant to lead them in all aspects, but over time, they had stopped expecting him to keep up during physical training. Fuji felt bad. Matthew and the other two were somewhat ashamed, bearing ridicule from the other teams about their "wimp of a sergeant". The Sergeant, too, was embarrassed, but all he could do was continue to push himself.
Adam Farberow jogged to a stop having reached the end of their assigned run. He was accustomed to physical training, having been the only one on the team with previous military experience. He was slumped over for a minute to catch his breath but stood up to welcome Matthew to the finish line. Next to arrive was Shouta, the youngest pilot on Team 2. Fuji arrived after, having intentionally controlled his pace so he could keep an eye on both his uncle and the rest of the team.
The four of them breathed heavily as they watched their commanding officer half-jog half-stagger in the distance.
"Jesus..." Matthew muttered. "How's he supposed to lead us if he's always falling behind?"
"We're pilots, though," Shouta responded. "Is any of this going to matter inside a mobile suit?"
"It'll make a difference," Adam interjected with a critical tone. "Believe me."
They were quiet as the Sergeant stumbled in at long last. Fuji started to greet his uncle, but his words were stolen from him when he saw just how deathly pale the Sergeant was. The man staggered about, tremoring, his eyes wide. He seemed to be reaching for something when he finally collapsed face-first on the ground, motionless.
He straightened the necktie on his uniform. Alone in front of the mirror, his gaze saw only the formal ornament around his neck and not the man it adorned. The man in the reflection had not been seen for many years.
The Sergeant left the mirror and went to arrange the papers from his desk. It had been a little more than two weeks since his heart attack. He was still a little weak and short of breath, but the medics had taken good care of him, teaching him many techniques to control his breathing and stress. Heart attacks were an inevitable result of training in high gravity, and it occurred with some frequency in Morning Star's population, but the Sergeant never thought it would happen to him.
He was on his way to meet with the director of the program, a sense of dread looming over him ever since he received the summons. A knock came at the door to his quarters. Fuji and Shouta appeared in the doorway.
"What can I do for you?" The Sergeant asked in a formal manner, still busy at the desk.
"We wanted to see you, Sarge," Shouta said, a little hesitant. Shouta had never spoken with his commanding officer very much. They had all been assigned to Team 2 by a random lot and did not always get along well. Still, they treated each other with a professional courtesy as adults often did.
"How have all of you been?" The Sergeant asked in kind.
"Good," Fuji answered. "We got absorbed into Team 3 for the mean time. Those guys kinda suck, though. Sgt. Mallory is a half-wit. Muscles for brains, you know?" The Sergeant smirked a little, but continued to fiddle with the documents in his hands. What Fuji was trying to say was that he and Shouta missed their sergeant, but only an uneasy silence passed.
Unable to bear the tension, Shouta came forth with his feelings. "We're sorry, Sarge! We're sorry to see you go. And we're really sorry you got hurt..." He looked at the other man unhappily, sad to see him fall as far as he had.
The Sergeant returned a hard gaze. "Don't look at me like that. It pisses me off." He hated being pitied by others. A sense of quiet came over him. The Sergeant started to leave, walking past the other two. "I have to meet with the director now. You two take care of yourselves," he said sincerely. "Thank you for not making my job difficult."
Footsteps echoed as the Sergeant paced down the empty hallway. He had never met with the director before. The Sergeant had seen the man on the base from time to time observing the teams from afar or meeting with an officer, but he seldom spoke, and the Sergeant had yet to ever hear the director's voice with his own ears.
The director was unusually young for a man of his position, possibly the same age as the Sergeant or younger. Even Morning Star's generals seemed to tread lightly around him, though the director had no true military rank. He carried the informal title of Commander.
Though the Sergeant had only seen him from afar, he was afraid of the director. There was an unexplainable intensity in the man's eyes, and his movements exhibited a gravity which seemed capable of extinguishing countless lives in an instant. It was unsettling to know such a person came and went freely about the base.
The Sergeant came to a stop at a heavy wooden door and knocked soundly. "Director of Mobile Airborne Division - Commander Heero Yuy," the plaque read. He was already sweating.
"Come in," a strong voice directed. The Sergeant opened the heavy door gingerly and stepped inside, all efforts going into holding his composure. The Commander sat behind a large wooden desk. "I've been expecting you. Close that door behind you."
A full salute was given by the Sergeant. "Be seated," Commander Yuy instructed.
When the Sergeant became settled, the Commander began to go through the files in his desk in silence. The Sergeant tapped his fingertips over his knee, a nervous tick that he had. At last the Commander produced a set of documents and pushed them across the wide desk for the Sergeant to see.
"These are your medical discharge forms. I was told you refused to sign them."
"Yes, sir," he answered firmly. "That's right."
"Care to explain?" The Commander leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, intent on listening.
The Sergeant answered, "I do not wish to leave the team, sir."
Commander Yuy narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Don't make light of your injury, Sergeant. It would be harmful to your health to stay. If you sign the medical discharge, you won't have to fight, and the military will compensate you. I suggest you take the opportunity to leave."
The young officer was steadfast, meeting the Commander's gaze without any indication he would give in. Heero leaned back in his chair and picked up a folder.
"I've been reading your profile," he said. "Educated men like you don't often join the military-especially the divisions which will be on the front. Why have you volunteered to fight?"
The Sergeant was obviously bothered, but he was honest: "I have nowhere else to go."
Heero Yuy furled his brows. "I have a hard time believing that." He skimmed over the documents in the Sergeant's profile again: graduated at a young age and entered university, participated in research and completed a rather difficult degree. However, his grades were poor, and he published no research papers. Then, some years of unemployment. What could have happened?
"You could have done other things with your education," the Commander started. "Why waste it on the military? You were unable to find work?"
"No, sir. I was unwanted. I have done my best, but there was always someone better or more qualified."
Heero felt a bolt of guilt hit him squarely in the chest. He, too, had several candidates ready to replace the Sergeant as soon as he was discharged: one man was a veteran who lead pilots through several combat tours and the other had a highly advanced degree from a military academy. Of course they would be more qualified than the Sergeant, but Heero felt the urge to hear the other man out.
"There was no place you were willing to settle?"
The Sergeant reviewed his thoughts for the right words. "No, sir. I am in an unusual position. I've always been good at whatever I did, but I have never been the best at anything. The world is not very well defined for a person like me:
"People who are incapable receive help from others. People who are competent find a place to be and are happy. People who excel are praised and are desired by others. But people who could be great and fall short do not belong. Such people strive to do great things, but are outshined by those who are gifted. At the same time, they are unwilling to settle for less, knowing they are capable of more. And so, they do not belong anywhere.
"All a person can do is improve himself, and at some point, others must decide whether or not they want him. That is the nature of society. In my experience, that decision made by others has always been 'No'. I have been very dissatisfied and came to a point where I also had to make a decision. I only have one thing left to lose.
I understood that the world does not revolve around me. In fact, the world we all live in is now in danger of annihilation by war. There is still some part of me that wants to save the world. I decided to give myself to the military so I can know if there is anything I can do."
Heero was quiet for a long time as he heard the other man's words. He understood what kind of person the Sergeant was now: he was a man who knew what it was like to give everything to his efforts and still fail. Life was harsh to him at every turn, but it has yet to kill him. And here he was, sitting across the desk from him, facing a medical discharge, a stern expression on his face.
Commander Yuy breathed in deep and exhaled. He reached across the desk and took back the discharge papers.
The Sergeant was confused. "Sir?"
Heero looked the officer in the eye. "I'm going to give you a chance, Sergeant." The other man listened quietly. Heero continued, "I understand you are hurt, so you will have to take it easy. At the same time, I expect you to work hard, even harder than the others. I hope you understand what I am saying."
"I understand," the Sergeant answered, forcing himself to hold his composure.
"I expect you to complete your combat training. If not, a discharge will be inevitable, but do what you are able. We'll end this meeting now," Heero said. "I will contact the instructors."
The two men stood up and saluted each other in parting.
"Thank you, sir, for hearing me out."
"Look after your men. Take care, Sergeant."
A Serpent-V crept through the dense forest, hugging the trees for cover. The emerald glow of its visor could be seen around the ancient redwood as the suit checked its surroundings, advancing ever carefully. It was painted in earthy browns and tans like its standard Serpent brothers.
The mobile suit cradled a semi-automatic Serpent Rifle in its arms, a battle rifle that fired armor-piercing rounds. A long, pointed shield was mounted on its left arm. This Serpent-V had two bladed ear antennas-a commander's unit.
Four more Serpent-Vs followed in the careful advance. They moved close enough to keep each other in sight, but were spread out in order to avoid being crowded in the event of an attack.
A bead of sweat fell from the Sergeant's jaw. He was focused intensely on the image projected on his monitors. Infrared, ultraviolet, audio, and motion sensors picked up nothing, but as he stared into the depths of the forest, he could not help but feel that death was staring right back at him.
"Uh...Sarge?" A quiet voice came over the radio. "I have to pee."
The Sergeant twitched. "Shut up. I said we were on radio silence."
"I am not kidding. We've been strapped in for over 30 hours now...!" Matthew complained.
"I'll signal when we can dismount. Just be silent for now," the Sergeant ordered.
"And when the hell will that be?" Matthew objected. "It's already been three whole days since the operation started. Everyone else has probably left already."
"Just be quiet, Icky," Fuji chimed in. "We have no way to tell if that's true."
"Don't call me that!" Matthew hissed back.
"What is your middle name?" Fuji asserted flatly.
"...Ichabod."
"There: we're calling you Icky," Fuji concluded. Matthew only muttered.
"I do agree that this is taking too long," Adam Farberow started.
"...Radio silence..." the Sergeant repeated to no one.
Adam continued, "We're in transformable mobile suits with an aerial fighter mode for godsake. What are we still doing in the forest?" Adam's previous military service was in an air force, so he was used to flying above mach 2 during operations. Shouta only listened in on the argument with mixed emotions.
"We don't have any intel on what sort of enemy could be in the area," the Sergeant answered in a sharp tone. "The last thing I'll have us do is fly out in the open as obvious targets. I don't care that it is taking us longer to reach the target point. I'm going to keep us alive."
Fire Team 2 had already completed training, and its members were fully enlisted in service. However, the ten Serpent-V teams were then enrolled in a post-training exercise of the following details:
The operation took place in an undisclosed location in California. Each team was air dropped in a random location 200 kilometers from an abandoned city. The first team to reach the city and occupy it for one hour would be crowned victorious, and the exercise would end. However, no information was given on what enemy could be in the area or if there were any enemy at all.
It sounded simple enough, but what frightened the Sergeant the most was that it was a live-fire exercise. Their weapons were loaded with real ammunition and their beam sabers set to ignite on full heat. They could very well die.
When his team was initially dropped into the zone of operations, the Sergeant made a scan of the entire area. A winding river ran through a redwood forest-trees three or four hundred feet tall. He had his team first submerge their mobile suits and travel under the river's surface, following the current closer to their objective point. The river actually ran straight through the middle of the city, but the Sergeant had the team exit the river partway, finding that approach to be too obvious. They next advanced through the forest towards the city, keeping an eye out for possible enemy units. There were signs of the other teams' movements at first, but they had long since lost touch with any of them.
"This is taking incredibly long," Matthew said. "How do you even know where you're going? Didn't you have us shut off our navigations?"
"I'm using a compass," replied the Sergeant.
Matthew nearly choked on his own words. "A compass?! You're in a mobile suit with a combat supercomputer, and you're leading us with a compass?! Why don't we have GPS on?"
"It would be too easy to use against us. We could be tracked easily if we used GPS. Or our navigations could be hacked and we would be fed false information."
"Seriously?" Matthew blubbered. "What could even do that?"
"It's called the Deathscythe," his commanding officer answered. "Look it up."
Matthew was quiet after that. He was scared.
The team neared the edge of the redwood forest, staying far back from the opening to keep their mobile suits concealed.
"Radio silence," the Sergeant reiterated. "And I mean it as an order. One sound and I will fucking shoot you in the face."
He motioned for Shouta's Serpent-V to come forward next to him. Shouta's mobile suit was equipped with a high caliber sniper rifle designed to destroy heavily armored targets from great distances. The Sergeant's Serpent-V knelt down and touched its fingertips to Shouta's suit, allowing their machines to communicate safely via electric currents.
"Use your scope to look as far as you can. Tell me if you see anything in the distance or in the city."
"There is a 3 kilometer clearing from the edge of the forest to the city," the younger pilot said. "No cover. No signs of hostiles in the open ground. No signs of occupants in the city."
The commanding Serpent-V used hand signals to give orders to the other four: Disengage safety. On my lead: Transform. Fly low. Max speed. Destination: city. Assume cover. Scan area.
The Sergeant's Serpent-V stood out from cover, its four teammates at its back. Leaves and dust kicked up and foliage rustled as the vernier thrusters on the mobile suits' legs, backs, and wing binders warmed up.
Boosting through the tree line, the Serpent-V commander twisted mid-flight into a streamlined form, entering its fighter-like bird mode. The atmosphere shuddered as all five engaged maximum thrust and tore across the landscape.
They flew low to the ground to avoid possible radar detection and anti-air fire, the pilots watching the land rush past them at a thousand feet per second. As they entered the edge of the city, the Sergeant's craft transformed to its mobile suit form, facing backward while still carrying the tremendous momentum of its flight. The suit landed hard on the ground and skidded backwards to a stop, immediately leveling its rifle behind itself into the open city to ward off any potential threats. Nothing.
As the rest of the team touched down the next moment, the five mobile suits hugged the buildings for cover. The pilots became hyper-aware as they scanned the environment, scrutinizing every detail. The desolate city seemed undisturbed for many years, its pale white buildings and gray streets devoid of life signs.
The team advanced towards the center of the district with a hardy mix of haste and caution, always checking corners, blind spots, and sensors. Ordering them to a stop, the team leader contacted the other pilots over short-range radio.
"We're not finding anything... Regardless, we need only hold the city for an hour to end the operation. I still want to find out if anything is here or not." The Serpent-V commander looked around. "Shouta: find the highest point in the city and set up a nest. Stay in regular contact."
"Got it," Shouta confirmed as his mobile suit stomped away.
"Matt. Adam. We'll split into pairs and scout the city. I want you two to go east. Fuji and I will stay center-west. Do not exit your mobile suits under any circumstances. We still don't know if it's safe."
"What!" Matthew protested. "I'm gonna die of a bladder infection!"
"Stop bitching, Icky," Adam said. "At least you're not partnered with an idiot like I am."
Matthew responded to the insult tactfully. "Just cover me, you douchebag."
Their two mobile suits advanced east, disappearing behind the cityscape.
Matthew's Serpent-V kicked over some fallen rubble with disinterest, almost entering an alleyway before meandering away in another direction. The mobile suit lugged along a large ammo box and belt. The Serpent Rifle it carried had been modified to fire on full automatic as a squad-automatic-weapon. It had only been half an hour since he had started his scouting assignment, but it felt like days. He was terribly irritated and impatient.
Adam could hear Matthew grunting through clenched teeth over the radio and said, "Try to relax a bit. There's only half an hour left on the clock before the mission's over." His mobile suit searched behind a building before continuing on. Adam's Serpent-V was armed with a standard Serpent Rifle, but he was a very accurate shot with it.
"I know, but don't you find this stupid? We made so much effort just to complete a ridiculously easy objective...! The Sergeant can really be a dumbass sometimes."
"I guess so," Adam offered. "I'm not entirely sure why I wasn't selected for team leader in his place. I've got more experience than everyone else, after all."
"More experience being a douche, maybe," Matthew retorted against the older pilot. "It's hard to believe how full of yourself you can be all the time."
"Whatever."
Matthew left another empty street. "God dammit. Nothing's here! What's the point of this scouting mission if we're not finding anything?"
"I feel the same," Adam said. "I don't even see any signs of the other teams. Maybe they really did all go home already, and we're just wandering out here like idiots because we're being punished for taking so long..."
"That's what we get for taking orders from such a tightass. Not even the jaws of life could loosen that guy up..." Matthew had been feeling that something was looming close behind him for the past few minutes. "Hey, could you not follow so closely?" Matthew complained. "You're crowding me, here."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? I'm in front of you."
"What?" Matthew's Serpent-V turned around to see a bright red mobile suit standing directly behind it.
Before he could understand what was happening, the mobile suit snatched him by the face, cocked its arm back, and rammed him through the side of a building.
Moments earlier, the Sergeant and his nephew Fuji were also on their own scouting mission.
"It's very quiet, Uncle," Fuji commented over radio.
"Yes, I agree. I was thinking we would find something here by now, but the hour might pass without incident." Their two Serpent-Vs continued to pace through various sectors.
"Shouta," the Sergeant radioed for their hidden eyes. "Anything?"
The radio cracked. "Nothing yet."
"Can you see Adam and Matt?"
"Yeah. They look bored."
"Figures," Fuji said. "Short attention spans." He himself had the attention span of a gnat.
"Can you scan north and south for us?" the Sergeant asked calmly. Maybe he could start to let his guard down.
"Roger that."
Fuji was beginning to feel let down. He was glad that nothing unsafe had befallen the team, but he had also hoped that after all this training, he would be able to put his skills to use.
Just as he was having this thought, a loud crash could be heard to the east. Almost instantly, the Sergeant's Serpent-V transformed and took off in a single motion and rocketed towards the source of the commotion.
Fuji was astounded to see the Sergeant was able to transform his mobile suit so low to the ground, but he was already being hailed over the radio. "Fuji! Let's move!"
He tried to take off quickly, too, but he couldn't keep his craft stable mid-transformation, and he crashed to the ground. Fuji cursed through his teeth as he tried to recover, falling desperately behind the Sergeant's mad pace.
"Shouta. Where are Adam and Matt?"
Shouta grunted. "I can't find them!"
"Cover us," he ordered.
The Sergeant's craft transformed and landed east with its battle rifle ready. He discovered Matthew's downed Serpent-V incapacitated inside of a ruined building. The Sergeant called out to him, but there was no answer. He was either knocked out or dead. If only he could get out to check on him, but it was unsafe.
He searched the area quickly for the enemy, but came across nothing. The Sergeant used the radio to call for Adam, not able to find him.
"Where the hell is he?!" Adam shouted fearfully. Suddenly Adam screamed and his radio cut out with only static on the line. The Sergeant cursed under his breath and accelerated his search.
The next moment, a red mobile suit rounded the corner in a slow walk, revealing itself to the young officer. It dragged the headless, limbless remains of Adam's Serpent-V behind it, holding one of the remaining wing binders in one free hand, a round shield held in the other. Its red armor glowed like fresh blood, its gleaming yellow eye infinitely piercing.
It was the Mercurius-G.
Shots rang as the Sergeant immediately opened fire with his battle rifle. The Mercurius-G snapped right and dove behind a group of buildings, leaving the mutilated torso of Adam's mobile suit in the street. There was no response.
"Fuji, where are you? I've confirmed an enemy unit: it appears to be a variant of the Mercurius. Matt and Adam are down."
"I'm almost there," Fuji responded. "Hang on!"
"Shouta. Where is it?"
"I can't see him-No, watch out!"
The Mercurius-G came up from behind the Sergeant and swung the beam sword on its crash shield down in its target. The Sergeant side-stepped the attack, gained distance, and retaliated with his rifle. The Mercurius-G charged forward through the gunfire, deflecting the bullets with the A.S. defensor function of the crash shield. Suddenly, more rifle fire came from behind, so the red suit abandoned its charge and dashed behind cover again.
Fuji finally arrived on scene, immediately going to the Sergeant and stood back to back with him. They scanned their surroundings for the enemy, rifles at the ready.
They were blind-sided when the Mercurius-G suddenly attacked from their flank. It brought its beam sword down between the two, causing them to instinctively dodge and separate from each other. With its free right hand it drew a curved Gundanium blade from its hip and slashed at Fuji in one motion. The attack left a gash in Fuji's shield, but he was able to escape.
The two pilots stood their ground and unloaded their rifles on their attacker. The red suit sprinted through the street too quickly to keep up with, bullet holes in its wake.
The Sergeant's rifle magazine auto-ejected when it was empty, and the Mercurius-G attacked him in the same instant, seeing the spent magazine as a cue that he was vulnerable. Put on the defense, the Serpent-V took into the air above the buildings. The Mercurius-G pursued with its two swords ready.
This was the moment Shouta was waiting for. With his target out in the open, he lined up his shot from miles away and fired his anti-armor rifle, the massive recoil of the weapon causing the buildings to shudder.
Expecting the enemy to be destroyed, the Sergeant fell back, still mid-air, but the red mobile suit spun around and deflected the massive slug with its Gundanium blade.
"What the hell!" The power and mathematical precision the mobile suit exhibited was baffling.
Chills ran up the Sergeant's spine when the red suit looked in the direction the sniper bullet had come from and dove back down to hide in the buildings. He and Fuji rained suppressing fire on the area until their magazines were spent. There were no signs any of their bullets had hit.
"Dammit," Fuji cursed. "Where did he go?"
The three Serpent-V pilots searched desperately for the rogue mobile suit, but it was all too quiet. Fear overtook them as the seconds passed, knowing their target could come from anywhere. All of the sudden, Shouta's shaking voice came over the radio.
"He's here!"
Standing at the base of the tower, the Mercurius-G looked up the heights of the structure to where Shouta had set up his sniper's nest. Shouta picked up his heavy rifle as his mobile suit got up from its prone position, and the Mercurius-G jumped into the air.
Halfway up the tower, the Mercurius-G ignited all four gigantic beam blades on its crash shield and cleaved the building in two.
The structure fell apart, crumbling to the ground as it collapsed under its own weight. Rubble and debris rained down all around Shouta as he fell with the building, activating his thrusters to escape the collapse. He was nearly free until the Mercurius-G came from above and crashed down on top of Shouta with both of its feet.
Fuji and his uncle arrived on scene as the two mobile suits crashed to the ground, the Mercurius-G standing on top of Shouta. He was shaken from the fall, but tried to get up, finding himself pinned down by the red suit. Shouta saw his two teammates and cried out to them.
"HELP ME, GUYS!"
But the two were paralyzed with dread as the Mercurius-G lifted its Leo Saber up, point down, and plunged the blade into Shouta's Serpent-V.
"Aahhhh! Aaaahhhhhh! AAAHHHHHH!"
The young pilot screamed and screamed, impaled by a sword. The red suit twisted the blade with a snap, and suddenly there was only a sickening silence. There was no screaming. The pinned mobile suit lay motionless.
The Mercurius-G yanked its sword out from its victim and stood up, still looming over the fallen pilot. A dead breeze washed over the area, kicking up dust as the three remaining mobile suits stared each other down.
"You bastard!" Fuji cried as he charged, firing his rifle repeatedly. Unexpectedly, the red suit dashed forward and slashed through Fuji's gun, destroying it completely.
Fuji dropped the remaining handle of the destroyed weapon and drew a beam saber from his shield. "Don't think you've won," he declared. "Close-range combat's my specialty!"
His Serpent-V lunged forward and put all its power behind a saber attack. One of the Mercurius-G's blades lashed out, the movement so quick it was nearly invisible, and knocked Fuji's saber out of hand.
Fuji was relentless, not even stopping to recognize the disadvantage, and threw a punch right for his opponent's face. The Mercurius-G stood its ground and blocked Fuji's fist with the cutting edge of its Leo Saber, causing Fuji to splice his own arm in half.
He was bewildered, having been disarmed twice and then once literally in mere moments. The red mobile suit offhandedly kicked him to the ground and rushed the Sergeant.
Boosting backward to maintain distance, the Sergeant laid pressure on his attacker with rifle shots. He was accurate, but the red mobile suit sprinted and twisted through the gunfire, blocking several shots with its shield.
In the back of his mind, the Sergeant was reevaluating his chance at destroying his opponent. It was obviously made of Gundanium from the way it moved. Their Serpent Rifles stood a chance of destroying it with sustained fire, but now that he was the only pilot armed with one, the odds were extremely low. On top of that, the A.S. defensor shield in its left hand used an electric field to deflect attacks, making it nigh indestructible.
The Sergeant's last rifle magazine was spent, so he discarded the empty weapon. The Mercurius-G closed in and attacked with its beam sword. Deflecting the slash upward with his shield, the Sergeant drew his beam saber and lashed out in one motion. The Mercurius-G blocked the blow with its Gundanium blade as the two suits rushed past each other. The red suit immediately spun around and swiped at the Serpent-V's back, but it boosted forward out of reach.
"Don't count me out just yet!" Fuji shouted as his mobile suit barreled down on the Mercurius-G, shield first, planning to ram into it at max speed. The other mobile suit assumed a low stance as Fuji crashed into it. Using the flat of its shield and a powerful lifting motion, the Mercurius-G redirected Fuji's momentum harmlessly up and over its head. His thrusters still on max output, Fuji flipped wildly out of control through the air until he crashed into and bounced off the top corner of a building.
Pulled down by gravity, the Serpent-V bounced destructively off the pavement twice and rolled to a stop, leaving the suit a crippled mess. It didn't move again, its pilot having lost consciousness in the violent collision.
The Mercurius-G turned away from the wreckage and saw the Sergeant's Serpent-V still brandishing its beam saber. Instinctively, both mobile suits took off in a sprint, running parallel to each other as buildings rushed by between them. They caught small glimpses of each other in the gaps, looking for openings.
As he ran, the Sergeant could not help but wonder how all this could happen. How could the ESDF train them for months and equip them with advanced mobile suits only to throw them to the wolves like this to be murdered?
He retrained his thoughts as he realized he had lost track of the red mobile suit. The Sergeant looked up to see the Mercurius-G drop out of the sky and bring both swords down on top of him. He intercepted the powerful attack by raising his large shield, but the powerful blow cleaved two gashes into the shield and caused his mobile suit to stagger backward.
Having thrown the Sergeant off balance, the Mercurius-G began a relentless assault with its two swords. Various slashes and thrusts came rapidly from the blades, accelerating in speed and power. The Sergeant did his best to let his shield absorb the storm of deadly impacts, having to place his shield back in front of him every time it was knocked aside.
The Mercurius-G paused as the Sergeant lost more ground. The shield had been slashed to pieces, so he tossed it aside. He was expecting another onslaught, but the red mobile suit stood poised with its beam and solid swords, waiting for him to make the first move.
The Sergeant controlled his breath. The Serpent-V readied its beam saber in both hands and inched forward. He opened with a quick thrust aimed for his opponent's face. The Mercurius-G deflected it and instantly riposted with its beam sword. The Serpent-V leaned backward out of range.
Another pause.
He inched to the side. They circled each other in microcosmic movements. The Serpent-V pivoted into range and lashed out with multiple attacks aimed for the chest. The red mobile suit blocked them all and whipped one of its blades outwards at the Sergeant's face. He deflected it up and countered. The Mercurius-G deflected its opponent's blade downward and stepped back out of range.
Another pause.
The Mercurius-G advanced with both swords. The Serpent-V blocked the two blades, one after the other, but the attacks continued. The red suit's movements accelerated into a frenzied sword dance. Put on the defensive, the Sergeant could do nothing but give ground and block an attack to save himself where he could.
A momentous thrust from the beam sword threatened to skewer the Serpent-V's face. Unable to dodge in time, he deflected the beam blade narrowly to the side, but the attack came close enough to burn through his mobile suit's right ear blade antenna.
The Sergeant started a frantic counterattack, but he was interrupted when the Mercurius-G flicked its wrist to cause its Gundanium blade to spin freely in mid-air. The sight of the unusual movement caused the Sergeant to move back out of instinct, but the spinning blade still managed to cut a gash into his chest before the other suit caught the weapon again by its handle.
He stumbled far back out of range, chest thumping, gasping for air. He was afraid his heart could give out again.
He wasn't good enough, he realized. What he faced was not merely a powerful and unique sword style. It was art. The other pilot was not only skilled or only experienced-he had the ability to create. The Sergeant knew he could train all his life and never reach the same level.
The red mobile suit stood poised with its swords ready, its one yellow eye glowing like a demon's, the red armor possessed with death.
All this time I thought I was fighting for my life, the Sergeant reflected, closing his eyes, but the fact is: I've already been killed. I was dead the moment that monster laid its eyes on me.
He hesitated for a moment, but alas he cast aside his regrets as the Serpent-V bolted forward to commit to one last attack. The Mercurius-G shot forward at the same time. In the last moment the Sergeant took his beam saber into both hands and drew it back, ready to commit a full-bodied thrust.
The two mobile suits blew past each other.
The Mercurius-G landed on both feet and grinded to a halt, both swords together in front of it. The Serpent-V, still mid-run, went limp suddenly and fell to the dust.
Silence.
The red mobile suit turned around and gazed down upon the fallen soldier as a howling wind blew over the city. The winds spoke to them and sprinkled dust over their fallen forms.
The mechanics collectively cried bloody murder as Team 2's recovered mobile suits were delivered to them. Banged up or outright mutilated, the remaining scraps could hardly be recognized as the former proud and advanced Serpent-V team. The Serpent-Vs were supposed to be one of highest performance mass production units employed by the ESDF, but all 50 of them were destroyed practically overnight. It was bewildering to know they were all destroyed in a training exercise before they were officially sent to sortie in battle.
Inspecting all the damage, it was miraculous that none of the mobile suit cockpits were destroyed and that all the pilots survived with only bumps, bruises, and concussions. Still, the mechanics had a lot of work ahead of them to completely rebuild the fleet of Serpent-Vs, and hopefully they could do it before the Martian military came knocking at their doorstep.
"Why's this one smell like piss!" One of the mechanics cried in horror, inspecting Team 2's wreckage.
"God dammit..."
The pilots were gathered in a nearby conference hall for their debriefing. The crowd was collectively quiet, having been shamed by their enormous defeat at the hands of a single mobile suit.
"Attention!"
The 50 pilots and officers stood up to greet the arrival of the Director of the Mobile Airborne Division. Commander Heero Yuy entered and took to the podium in front of a large projector screen.
"At ease." They sat down again, but they were anything but relaxed around the Commander. It would never be stated explicitly, but they all had some sense that it was that man standing at the podium who defeated the entire Serpent-V fleet single-handedly. And he did it without even having a single firearm, at that.
"Welcome back," he started. "As you recall, your last operation was a competitive mission to see which team could capture the city and occupy it for one hour first. It is disappointing, but none of the teams were successful in that objective. We will begin a debriefing on what unfolded during the operation:"
He referred to the large projection behind him which displayed a map of terrain and designated icons with numbers for the teams. The projection evolved in real time to show the movements of the teams.
"The operation began as your mobile suit carriers entered the designated airspace at 0500 hours. At that time, the carrier for Team 1 was attacked and destroyed. The carrier pilots parachuted to safety, but the mobile suit pilots were unable to recover from their carrier being destroyed and were subsequently disabled.
"Teams 4 and 7 transformed and made a bee line for the city as soon as they were air dropped at 0530 hours. Team 4 was subject to an anti-air attack and engaged in an aerial dogfight to defend themselves, but they were destroyed in several minutes. Using Team 4 as a distraction, Team 7 advanced towards the city, but the enemy unit caught up to them using its over booster attachment and destroyed them as well.
"The other teams took cover in the forest. Long before sunrise, at 0630 hours, Teams 6 and 10 were ambushed under the cover of darkness. In the confusion, the two teams attacked each other as the enemy disabled them one by one.
"At 1200 hours Team 9 was ambushed in the forest and subsequently disabled.
"3600 hours into the operation, Team 8 approached the city via the river. They were electrocuted by the enemy unit's planet defensors and destroyed in underwater combat." The Sergeant of Team 2 felt his hair stand on end, realizing that the Mercurius-G did not even wear its planet defensors when he eventually engaged it. The planet defensors would have made him completely invulnerable to their rifles, and his team could not even lay a scratch on him without those electric shields being used.
Commander Yuy continued, "At 4800 hours into the operation, Team 3 lead by Sgt. Mallory wandered out of the zone of operations and was disqualified."
"So they made it out without fighting like the rest of us?" one of the officers asked out loud.
"No, they were followed outside the zone of operations and destroyed." The 50 pilots in the conference collectively turned to Sgt. Mallory who had gotten lost and got his team shot down. The man ducked his head low in embarrassment, hoping nobody would notice him.
"At 7200 hours," the Commander explained, "Team 5 was discovered sleeping in the forest, their guard on post having succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep as well. Their mobile suits were disabled by the enemy pilot and were no longer functioning when the team attempted to launch again at daybreak. As a result, Team 5 was also disqualified.
"Team 2, the final remaining team active in the operation, was the most difficult to track. It was reported that they disabled their GPS and varied their approach as they advanced on the city, traveling along the river bottom and then through the forest. They entered the city at 8600 hours and subsequently engaged the enemy in urban combat at 8630 hours. The team was divided to conduct surveillance and subsequently destroyed one by one in close range combat.
"All ten Serpent-V teams were disabled in the operation without completing the mission objective. Due to damages incurred during the operation, it will be a long time before your mobile suits will be ready for combat and you can join the front. Officers, I suggest you take that time to continue training with your pilots. I hope this has been a learning experience for all of you. This concludes the debriefing. Dismissed."
The soldiers in the conference hall dispersed slowly, a bad taste on their palates. The Sergeant was still slumped forward in his seat, still exhausted from the ordeal. His team eventually found him and gathered around.
"How is everyone?" he asked, not looking up.
"Well, we got the shit kicked out of us, but we're still alive," Adam replied.
"Sorry, guys," Shouta apologized. "I couldn't land a single shot on him..."
"The Commander is piece of work, isn't he?" Matthew complained. "I can't believe what a show-off that man is."
"He kicked YOUR ass, too, Icky!" Fuji exclaimed. "I don't think you're in a position to talk. And besides, the mechanics are probably livid that you pissed yourself in your mobile suit."
"Hey! Sometimes a man can't help what happens when he gets rammed through a building at a hundred miles an hour...!"
The Sergeant contemplated in silence. Yes, it could be seen as show-boating in some sense. But he also saw it as a valuable lesson. When the Commander spoke, he never referred to a single mobile suit as his own opponent. He destroyed entire teams in minutes and did it without killing any of the pilots. It may have been the most humiliating defeat, but it taught them that there were monsters out there like the Commander, and if they were to ever meet one, lives would not be spared. If they were to run into another pilot like Heero Yuy, they would never survive without immense skill and coordination.
"Sergeant." Commander Yuy called from directly behind him.
The other man nearly jumped out of his own skin in fright. He shot up from his seat and spun around. "Sir!"
Heero raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst of anxiety, but continued, "Sergeant, have your men report to my temporary office in an hour. There is something we have to discuss."
"Yes, sir!" They all saluted. The Commander turned away and disappeared from the conference hall.
They were all silent for a moment.
"Oh god. What the hell was that about?" Fuji blubbered in fear.
Adam had a pained look on his face. "My guess is that we're gonna get chewed out for failing the objective so badly." An uneasy silence passed.
"Well," the Sergeant started, "regardless of what happens, I will defend you. You all know where to go. See you in an hour."
The five pilots of Team 2 entered the office after knocking on the door. They lined up and stood at attention in front of Commander Yuy who sat at his desk, putting away papers. It was hard to believe that it was this quiet man and not a wild devil frothing at the mouth who beat them all down in battle with such brutality.
"Thank you all for coming. At ease." The five pilots collectively assumed the more relaxed posture.
"You may have guessed the recent exercise had a competitive objective, because it was being used as a selection program. I am disappointed that none of the teams completed the objective. However, I realize I may have made things too challenging.
"I needed to select the best team from the Mobile Airborne Division, because the ESDF has granted me the option of forming an elite autonomous unit. The unit will act under my direct command and will be under orders from no other part of the Defense Force. The Mobile Airborne Division's 2nd Fire Team has shown many of the piloting and leadership qualities I find vital, so I've decided to re-designate the team as Zero Squadron under my command."
The tension in the room broke all at once as the five pilots realized they were there to be praised and not to be decapitated.
"Does anyone have any objections to this?"
The five pilots collectively answered, "No sir!"
"Good," Commander Yuy stated with strength. "The first thing I want you to do is forget everything you have learned. I will retrain you, and you'll find that no other soldier can hope to defeat you. We will begin in one week, so you will be put on leave until then.
"I suggest you take that time to say goodbye to your families. Under my command, you will be dead to them. I also suggest you take that time to drink and screw to your heart's content. From here on you will no longer be men, but swords to be wielded in battle and discarded when broken. But in return for your humanity, you will be given great power, and we will use that power to do all we can to end this war. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Welcome to Zero Squadron. I will be in touch. Dismissed."
The five pilots saluted their Commander. He saluted in return.
As they turned away to leave the office, the young pilots experienced mixed emotions. Some were excited at the prospect of power and prestige. Others were afraid, knowing they would be put through the meat grinder and put in the highest level of danger on the battlefield. And still, some accepted the turn as an opportunity to affect change in the world.
They chatted vigorously and congratulated each other as they left the building, but the Sergeant was quiet. Fuji threw his arm around the other pilot.
"Aren't you excited, Uncle? We're special ops! And we could have never gotten this far without you!"
"Yeah, Sarge," Matthew said. "We really ought to thank you." Shouta nodded in agreement.
"I didn't do anything special," he answered.
Fuji scoffed. "There's a difference between modesty and being a liar, you know." He gave his Uncle a friendly jab in the shoulder, and the man finally returned a small and humble smile.
"So where should we go to 'drink and screw to our heart's content'?" Matthew asked.
Adam laughed and answered confidently, "I know a place."
Heero Yuy sat down at the desk again. It was very quiet in the large, empty office. He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the fan blades slowly churning in silence. It was very lonely: his work, and his place at the top. There was no one to support him or anyone to give him company. They all feared him-even his allies, but perhaps that was the only way things could work.
Staring upward, he reminisced about a time when his life was not so lonely and about the moment when all of that changed.
It was first light. A red mobile suit knelt in the distance, its bloody armor gleaming obscenely in the soft light of morning. They stood several paces apart from each other, out of reach. A year had passed of doing nothing but being in each other's arms, but now they had to stay away, afraid of being close again.
They had fought harshly a dozen times about the same topic, but now they had grown sick of the arguments and only wanted to be peaceful with each other.
She was afraid he would be killed in battle and die alone.
He was afraid to turn his back on the world and on those who depended on him.
Why should that be his responsibility alone?
It was always his responsibility.
Why could he not run away and stay with her?
He had never once run away before, even when there was nothing keeping him from fleeing.
She wanted desperately to keep him safe and to keep him for herself. She would have held him close and protected him even if death and hellfire were to rain down on her. But his life was not hers to keep, she realized. He belonged to the world, and it now needed him more than ever.
As selfish as he wanted to be, he could not bring himself to escape the war and hide away with her. He could not bring himself to choose a single life over billions of others. They both knew it was the right thing to do.
He knew she would be better off without him. She would no longer have to bound to a broken soldier who could never give her what she deserved. So long as he was bound by these invisible chains, the two of them could never be happy.
Perhaps it was possible he could change, but it would be the equivalent of turning night into day, of raising mountains from the oceans. He wanted desperately to be different for her sake, but he knew he could not change overnight, or perhaps, not even in a lifetime. To change, he would have to suffer and bleed away all the things that constantly caused him to hurt her and be a slave to The Sword.
She stood there, numb with hurt and loneliness, waiting for him to leave her behind.
She gasped as he came close and held her hand. She trembled at his sweet touch, but did not want to succumb to her weakness and believe they could go back on their decision.
As she closed her eyes, he gently pressed his lips to her hand, and then kissed her cheek, and lastly kissed her forehead. A single tear fell from her eyelashes. They were three blessings: the kiss on her hand gave her his trust, the kiss on her cheek-his admiration, and the kiss on her crown-his hope for the future.
She stood in silence for a moment, her eyes closed, not knowing how to reciprocate such a gesture. He lifted her chin gently with one hand and looked directly into her eyes.
"When I come back," he said, "the war will be over, and I won't be a soldier anymore. No more fighting. No more weapons. I'll just be a man, and all I'll have left is you. That's the least you deserve."
Her tears fell freely then, unhindered by any pretense of strength or indignation. She never once thought she would be witness to such sad and beautiful words. She wept at the overwhelming relief of being understood and at the sad truth that he may never return to her.
He embraced her one last time. She wished she could stop blubbering like a fool so she could hug him back properly. He let her go, much too soon for her liking, and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Take care," he said. She could only return a sad smile.
He turned away and walked to the red mobile suit. Mounting the grand machine, the giant suit of armor rose up in the light of morning, a quiet breeze stirring the garden.
Her hair was blown on the breeze as she watched the red mobile suit take off into the air and carry him away, disappearing into the sky.
"Take care," she whispered into the wind.
The slowly churning fan blades came back into focus.
That was more than eight months ago, Heero surmised. That time and distance had helped him to focus on the war effort, but he could not help but feel lonely at times.
If Aoki had any wits about her, she would have left that old house and moved on with her life already, but some small part of Heero still hoped that she would wait for him. He did not understand how he could wish such a sad and lonely existence upon such a kind person, however.
At times he struggled to keep himself from writing or contacting her. He had to keep his own existence a secret as he would lead a black-ops team in the near future. And at the same time, he wanted to give her every opportunity to move on with her life and be happy. That was the sacrifice he was making in this war.
Heero got up from his desk and drifted toward the window, staring out at the busy quarters and the soldiers below. He could see the young pilots recently recruited for his squad, rowdy and full of life. He wondered what sacrifices they, too, would have to endure to bring this war to an end.
One could only pray that no harm would come to those young men, but since he did not believe in God, Heero knew that the responsibility of keeping those pilots safe in this war was his own.
Act II, Episode I: Forging Swords - End
-Seraphic
1.20.2014
Mars begins its full-scale invasion in space and the special ops task force Zero Squadron makes its debut in battle. Next time on New Mobile History Gundam Wing: The Sword,
Act II, Episode II: Battlefront
Reference Materials:
Definition of Sergeant-
Sergeant (normally abbreviated to Sgt) is a rank used in some form by most militaries, police forces, and other uniformed organizations around the world. Its origins are the Latin serviens, "one who serves", through the French term sergent.