Aoki slipped through the crowd, leading him by the hand. It was late morning on a cool spring day. Shoppers and commuters swarmed over the district. It was hard to fathom. Where were they all going? What were they all looking for?
Heero did not know why Aoki made him go to the city with her like this. They had no business or errands there, and she rarely ever spent money on anything frivolous. She sometimes never stopped to look at any shops, either-perhaps she felt uneasy being holed up in the house and liked to blend in with the crowds.
Holding hands while walking in public was something Heero disliked strongly. Any amount of intimacy in private was unprotested, but why did she hold his hand in public? It was awkward and unnecessary at best.
He would never complain out loud about such a minor thing, but it made moving through crowds very difficult. They both had to clumsily adjust their natural walking paces to move in synch, and together they made for a larger obstacle in the crowd than they were as independent persons.
They turned sideways to let a family pass.
The variety of people here was astonishing-so many different shapes, sizes, and faces. He saw a crowd of students in uniform, a girl with a tiny dog in her purse, a gaggle of old ladies, middle-aged men, mismatched couples, loners with places to be...
He subconsciously turned his gaze away from the faces he passed in the crowd. Looking down at his feet, he used his peripherals to march through the throngs of human traffic, purposefully trying not to distinguish any individuals from the crowd of strangers.
Heero hated looking closely at people. Remembering their faces made it difficult to forget. The sounds of gunshots and explosions rang in the back of his mind. It was hard to forget what it looked like when they were dead-twisted and mutilated.
He was trained to be desensitized to it, but something about the emptiness of their eyes just shook him to the core. They were empty mirrors, and he was framed in the reflection.
The emptiness. The lifelessness. So overwhelming and inescapable. It could come from any direction at any instant.
He continued through the crowd silently, towed along by Aoki, his mouth set in a hard line.
Heero tried to dispel his dark thoughts when a man in the crowd met eyes with him for a brief second before vanishing again. The hair on the back of Heero's neck stood on end.
Who was that?! Was he following them? Did he know Heero's identity? No, that glance was just a coincidence. Heero's pace quickened unconsciously. He pushed past several offended pedestrians.
Of course there is nothing to worry about. There were no battles. Heero was only a civilian in a crowd.
Heero's gaze scanned his surroundings quickly. Cars in the street-standard civilian models. A raised hand about to strike? No-just a mannequin in a display. More people going to and fro. No weapons in their pockets...
They came to a stop at a street crossing, waiting for the light to allow them passage.
His breath quickened, his mind laser focused. There were so many things to watch out for: agents tailing him...snipers on rooftops...windows at all heights...traps on the ground...people behind him...but he can't turn around and let them know he was looking... And the sky.
Oh god, the sky.
The sky was vast and endless, and it could bring countless horrors crashing down on top of them. What could be seen as a tiny dot on the horizon could be all-consuming carnage the next moment. Planes, ships, and carriers. Bombs, missiles, shells and bullets. Mobile suits. Airdropped from carriers or re-entering from space. Any one of these things could turn this crowd of people into one big, bloody pancake.
There was nowhere he could run. He was completely vulnerable. The empty mirrors were staring into him again.
Heero's eyes grew unfocused as he became lost in these terrifying and exhausting scenarios that replayed in his mind.
Aoki could feel Heero's tension. His hand was shaking. She was scared for him, but the fear did not show. Her demeanor remained effortless and gentle. She squeezed Heero's hand and met his gaze with a kind smile.
"It'll be okay," she said silently with her eyes.
Heero blinked hesitantly in return, still unsure. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Aoki's confidence slowly brought Heero back to reality, and he was again standing in the crowd with her. He was not alone in a vacuum, but there was again the din of people to all his sides, traffic rolling through the streets, and a hand that held onto his.
He squeezed her hand back. It was just one hand, but he gripped it like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to this earth. Heero nodded that he was okay, and she smiled back. She was so beautiful, he thought to himself. Heero's nightmare had been dispelled, but now it was replaced with a different fear: Could he ever survive apart from her?
The hum-hiss of jets washed through the air. Heero opened his eyes as the space carrier's cabin came into focus.
Dreaming of the past again. Foolish.
Heero leaned back against the headrest and swallowed a little to clear the tightness in his throat. This mobile suit carrier was transporting him and his team to their deployment point. It was the squad's first sortie on the field. It's going to be life and death.
A strange calm enveloped him in the wake of battle. It was bizarre to him how fear and panic could take hold when he wasn't fighting. Maybe it was all the time he had to think or that all his mental defenses went away in peacetime.
How shameful it was to lose control like that. It made him feel like a broken person, and he couldn't fend for himself or for the people in his care. That kind of weakness wasn't allowed. Aoki should never have had to deal with him when he had those episodes, but it never scared her away.
She was born pure and free from the battlefield. How could she understand what it was like to be damaged by bloodshed like he was? No matter how messed up things got, she always stood by his side with her head held high.
Heero looked down at his left hand-the same one Aoki held that day. This bloodstained hand knew the cruelty of extinguishing dozens of lives with a single button press, but she held it dearly in hers. To be able to reach people and calm them down-that was a strength that Aoki was blessed with-and this hand once knew that blessing.
He leaned his head back into the headrest again, frustrated with how things had turned out. It was out of their control. Hopefully Aoki was living something that resembled a normal life now that he had left to join the front. She deserved better than to be forever picking up the broken pieces that made up Heero Yuy.
He blinked a few times, trying to dispel the numbness he felt. Heero began to sense that his thoughts had strayed too far from the mission. He had to refocus.
He forced himself up from his seat and moved through the cabin to check on the pilots in his squad.
Adam and Shouta were going over different formations and maneuvers. Shouta bit down on the tip of his thumb as he focused on Adam's instructions, concentrating on committing the crucial information to memory.
Matthew threw up his hands as he lost another hand of cards to Fuji. The cards were mildly magnetized so they wouldn't float freely through the cabin. Fuji laughed, "Have you ever tried not sucking?"
"I had to say the same thing to your mother last night, pal." Matthew was spitting venom, but Fuji knew the other man was just trying to cover his humiliation.
"Hey, just let the cards do the talking. Deal," Fuji ordered.
Matthew's hair stood on end when he noticed Commander Yuy had been staring directly at them. He stammered, "Sorry, sir. It's been a long flight, and we only wanted to play a few hands."
"It's fine," Heero responded dryly. "It's good to relax some before a mission."
"Sir."
Heero continued past them to find the Sergeant sitting alone in the back. He kept quietly to himself, staring out the window into space, but he looked unusually pale. Heero approached him, "Sergeant."
The other man looked up. "Commander."
"Is anything the matter? You seem on edge."
The Sergeant furled his eyebrows a bit. "No, nothing."
"Be straight," Heero pressed.
The Sergeant looked away and exhaled. "I just...don't like being in space."
This surprised Heero. "Aren't you from the colonies?"
"Yes, but...I'm just not fond of windows...and shuttles like this. There's just a few inches of glass and steel between us and the vacuum outside. One knick and we'd be killed in an instant. It's something that's always bothered me."
Heero was quite perturbed at this revelation. The Sergeant had done plenty of training exercises in open space. How could this not have come to anyone's attention before? "We've already done plenty of spaceflight exercises...," Heero pointed out.
"It is strange," the Sergeant admitted, "but it's different when I'm piloting. When I'm in my suit, I'm focused on the mission, so I guess I don't have time to think about it."
This sounded awfully familiar to Heero. "This won't endanger the mission?"
"No, I do not think so."
"Try not to be nervous before, either. It'll affect your performance. I expect you to get everyone through this mission alive."
Heero remembered how scared he would become when left alone with his thoughts and how Aoki would pacify him. He placed a hand firmly on the Sergeant's shoulder, the same hand Aoki held, and nodded assuredly. "Just remember your training and you'll be okay."
The other pilot nodded as he returned a soulful glance. He took a deep breath, some color returning to his complexion. "Thank you, sir. I will not fail."
Heero continued past his NCO towards where the mobile suits were stored in the carrier.
"It's almost time. Let's suit up."
Act II, Episode II: Battlefront
A Space Leo charged shield-first through a wall of gunfire. It was a commander-type Leo with beam cannons on its shoulders. The heavy rounds hammered the shield violently, but the Leo was able to push through and position itself behind the enemy formation. The suit made a snap-turn before pelting a Gemini mobile doll square in its center using the shoulder cannons. A volley from its 105mm machinegun scattered the enemy dolls.
The commanding Leo boosted backwards on maximum thrust as the enemy dolls returned fire. The veteran pilot lurched forward in his cockpit from his inertia before he was able to brake again. He was much too old to be abusing his body with such harsh maneuvers, but it was all he could do to survive.
He simply couldn't believe their numbers. The Martian mobile dolls were so numerous it often felt like flying into a hurricane of gnats. Strike one down and there would be ten more. The Gemini mobile dolls had almost no armor, and their aim was poor, but a single missed shot or a weak formation meant you could be overrun and torn apart in seconds.
It was with these great numbers that the MSR was able to capture this colony's resource satellite. It didn't matter how many troops they had or what formation they took up-the enemy could simply use their numbers to effectively swarm in from multiple directions and maneuver around the ESDF's defensive lines.
A Gemini doll came down on the Leo with its heat saber. The Leo blocked the smoldering rod using its shield and pushed back the weaker mobile suit. A quick burst from the shoulder cannons ended the doll's assault. The Leo spun away as it was met with another wall of heavy machinegun fire.
The Leo's squad was finally able to break through, using their rifles and machineguns to provide covering fire for their leader. Linking up with the rest of the squad, the commander-type Leo added its cannons and machinegun to the assault.
"Smash them all! We have to win back our lost ground!" he radioed out to his squad. He fired desperately on the enemy. A single mistake meant one of his brothers could be killed. He couldn't afford any more losses.
One of his squadmates destroyed the last of the intercepting MDs with a well-placed beam rifle shot. Then silence. The squad leader looked around anxiously before breathing a sigh of relief.
Those Gemini dolls are such a pain, he thought. Intelligence may have been able to figure out the flight patterns on the Gemini MD's simple combat computer, but it was a miracle that a squad of Leos could put up a decent fight at that level of performance.
"Is everyone okay? Ammo check." He reloaded a new ammo drum onto his 105mm.
The other Space Leo pilots confirmed in the positive. Good, he thought. Maybe they could get reinforcements and push all the way to the resource satellite.
He turned to issue a new order to his squad when a searing light burst open the Leo to his immediate right. The entire Leo squad scattered and turned in the direction of the beam attack.
There were ten Gemini mobile dolls painted in red. Unlike most dolls, they were equipped with precision beam rifles. In the middle of the formation was a mobile suit he couldn't recognize.
It was matte gray from head to toe with an imposing medium build. The head crest told him it was a Commander-type Gemini, but this particular unit looked heavily modified. Its backpack extended into large, powerful thrusters, and it was equipped with a stocky shield and some sort of long-barreled beam rifle.
The Leo squad's leader wasted no time and opened up with a burst from his shoulder cannons. The Commander-type Gemini evaded the beams effortlessly with a mild turn while one of the red dolls returned fire.
The commanding Leo twisted out of the way of the beam bolt and retaliated with another burst from its shoulder cannons. Now the entire formation of red dolls advanced to engage with the Leos as the Commander-type Gemini stayed back.
It was chaos. His Leo squad was outnumbered, and there was that mystery suit looming nearby. He opened fire with his 105mm, but the red dolls nimbly danced around his attacks. He gritted his teeth as he evaded their counterattack. They weren't just flying about wildly, he realized. These dolls were dodging his attacks with skillful, conserved movements. Could they be controlled by...?
The Commander-type Gemini observed the battle with laser focus. Stay close...approach from multiple angles...aim carefully... One of the red dolls let loose a beam bolt that caught a Space Leo's backpack. The entire back section of the suit exploded with another series of explosions spreading into its reactor and cockpit block.
Leveling its long-barreled beam rifle, the gray mobile suit coolly took aim for another one of the Space Leos. The rifle's accelerator ring expanded with a snap and began spinning with glowing plasma. With the accelerator at a high-pitch whine, the rifle let fly a beam bolt that sliced across the battlefield with explosive speed. The single bolt punched through the shoulder of one Leo, severing its rifle arm and sending the suit spinning, blasted open the torso of another Leo behind it, and kept going for several more kilometers before finally dissipating.
The disarmed Leo desperately tried to regain its balance, but it was too late. The red Gemini MDs swarmed over it. Raising the Leo's shield, the pilot tried to defend herself, but the shield did not have the coverage to shelter her from a multi-directional attack. The rifle bolts pierced the Leo's legs and back before one last deadly bolt compromised the suit's reactor.
With their numerical advantage, the red dolls handily defeated the remaining Space Leos. Not a single doll was scratched, and only the Leo squad leader was left.
The Leo pilot gritted his teeth as all ten of the red dolls leveled their beam rifles at him. He pushed his suit to the limit of its mobility to try to lose the bogeys. The dolls did not fire, but matched him move-for-move, their rifles trained on him the whole way. They could control his movements simply by gaining a weapons lock advantage. There was no difference between having a gun aimed at you and being dead.
Why won't they shoot?!
Tears streamed from his eyes; he was hyperventilating-on the verge of losing consciousness. All his teammates were just killed, but he had to keep going. He had to survive. He had to get revenge.
He charged at the Commander-type Gemini in the distance. If he could just get close enough-just get one opening...!
The Space Leo screamed forward at full combat speed. The dolls chased after him. He fired volley after volley of beam cannon blasts at the Commander-type Gemini until he redlined the weapon. The other suit pitched and rolled past the beams skillfully.
He raised his 105mm, but almost instantly one of the dolls shot the weapon out of the Leo's hands with a well-placed beam rifle attack. No matter. He was close enough.
The Leo reached under its shield and drew its beam saber. He swung down with the glowing blade, but the other suit backed out of his range. He continued his charge for the Commander-type, completely negligent of its escort suits.
The Commander-type Gemini responded by boosting backward and matching the Leo's acceleration, albeit just a hair faster. This caused the Leo to gradually fall out of striking range, even though it was maxing out its thrusters.
He was outclassed. His opponent was untouchable. His heart sank at the shame of his defeat.
At last, the Commander-type Gemini leveled its accelerated beam rifle, the accelerator ring whining with a yellow-white glow.
Knowing he would not be able to dodge the bolt in time, the Leo pilot instinctively raised his shield to block the attack. The Gemini fired its weapon, hitting the Leo square on its shield.
The beam did not pierce the shield, but it struck with such tremendous force that the entire mobile suit was instantaneously flattened under its own shield. The warped, smoldering remains of the Space Leo eventually exploded, leaving this area of the battlefield silent.
The red Gemini dolls reassumed their positions flanking the commanding unit as it coolly lowered its beam rifle.
"Stubborn..." Isaac muttered under his breath at the smoldering remnants of the last Leo.
Isaac's radio chirped, "Lieutenant Winters?" It was one of the soldiers occupying the satellite. "How did your sortie go?"
"Fine. There shouldn't be any more stragglers close by," he answered.
"Very good. You can take your squad in for maintenance now. We should be ready to set this satellite loose in about 20 hours."
Isaac's Gemini peered out into the battlefield in the distance. Flashes and streaks of light littered the horizon. The ESDF was fiercely engaged with their defensive line. He was itching to join the front, but there were more important matters to tend to...
The gray-armored suit quietly turned away from the field and fired its verniers, its ten red escorts following it to their base of operations.
The door to the resource satellite's command center slid open with a snap-hiss. The engineers inside were immediately on edge from Isaac's entrance. Nothing was said to greet their commanding officer. Instead, they kept their heads down and kept working. They all knew that Isaac would wordlessly toss them out into the vacuum of space for wasting time with formalities.
They had been working tirelessly for days to prep the satellite for its flight to Mars. The soldiers had captured the satellite from ESUN, but the engineers had to break the systems encryption and learn how to use the foreign computers. Only yesterday they had received the necessary fuel from the supply line.
"How are preparations?" Isaac commanded.
One of the lead engineers answered, "We are ahead of schedule. The flight path has been set. The escort units are on stand-by, and the engineers at home are ready to receive the satellite once it is in orbit around Mars."
"I'll leave it to you, then. Once you depart, I will stay behind with the fleet to make sure ESUN doesn't follow you. Then we can begin the next campaign."
The engineers agreed. Ever since the invasion began, the ESDF had been unable to cope with the MSR's titanic fleet of mobile dolls. The odds were far in their favor, so long as the ESDF could not push past their defensive line.
Everyone turned as one of the operator consoles rang with an emergency transmission. The operator answered anxiously, "This is Control. Please report."
There was a cut of static as the transmission came through. "Control, there is a breach in the line at point E!"
The operator's stomach sank. What could possibly penetrate their mobile doll fleet? Did the ESDF construct a battleship or some new sort of weapon? "Can you identify the enemy units?"
The pilot on the other end responded, frantic, "I'm not sure what they are! We're not fast enough to keep up with them!"
Isaac immediately radioed the maintenance hangar. "Misha. We have an emergency. Is my squad ready to intercept?"
The lieutenant's personal engineer took a moment to respond. "Ah...Sorry, Lieutenant. Your suits are half-naked right now. They won't be fuel-up and ready to go for another hour at least."
Isaac put down the radio slowly as he weighed the options in his mind. He looked up and narrowed his eyes morbidly. The soldiers in the room returned his gaze apprehensively.
"Get ready to defend our position."
A squad of Tauruses was fiercely entangled with a group of Gemini dolls. All around them was a firestorm of beams and explosions as the two titanic fleets clashed. The Tauruses and Gemini MDs matched each other shot for shot, move for move, but the Tauruses were outnumbered, and the human pilots would quickly become fatigued while battling against the tireless dolls.
The Taurus pilots were shocked as half of the dolls suddenly burst into flames. A squad of six fighters screamed past them, directly through the MSR defensive line.
They weaved through the MSR ranks like birds through a forest. The five fighters in the rear were painted in subdued browns and tans. They flew in a V formation, and taking point ahead of them was a white and blue fighter with four white wings.
The formation moved too fast for the MSR dolls to stop them. They bobbed and swooped through the defensive line, making a bee line for the resource satellite. Cannons and beams struck down only what was directly in their way. Anything too slow to keep up was no threat.
Finally, the squad of fighters met with the densest point of the MSR formation. The targeting computers of all six fighters interlinked, acquiring over a hundred weapons locks. Each target was assigned to one weapon in the squad's vast array of armaments. Not a single bullet would be wasted.
Altogether, they unleashed a barrage from every weapon in their arsenal. A wave of missiles, cannon shells, beams, and machinegun fire radiated out and smashed explosively into the MSR forces. Mobile suits and dolls ripped apart. Carriers and ships burned.
Now they were surrounded on all sides by MSR-behind enemy lines-but that was exactly how they were trained to operate. The five Serpent-Vs of Zero Squadron transformed to their mobile suit forms and opened fire on the waves of enemy dolls descending upon them.
The white and blue fighter screamed forward through the defensive line, leaving the capable Serpent-V squad to deal with any attackers. It had its sights set on bigger targets.
It closed in on two of MSR's Principia-class super-carriers at full combat speed. The carriers resisted with anti-air fire, but their target was approaching too fast. The fighter's form twisted and unfolded in a snap as it flipped to descend feet-first toward the rear-sitting carrier.
The powerful frame landed on the carrier on one knee to absorb the tremendous momentum of its flight, the carrier's hull buckling under the force of the impact. Slow motion shards of metal erupted outward as a pair of fierce green eyes flashed.
The rebuilt Wing Gundam stood up and lifted its massive hi-buster rifle over its head with one hand, pointing directly up. The weapon's reactor screamed as a torrent of plasma exploded out from the rifle muzzle. The colossal beam smashed through the enormous carrier overhead, violently splitting it in half. Both ends of the craft succumbed to the destructive heat radiating from the beam, melting and twisting before getting blown apart entirely. The hundreds of dolls inside the carrier perished all the same.
Leaping off the hull, the Wing Gundam turned its terrifying weapon on the other carrier below its feet. Mercilessly, it fired its hi-buster rifle again, eviscerating the ship and its passengers with another full-powered burst.
Martian soldiers looked on in horror as the two super-carriers sank, the entire space still burning and electrified from the indescribable plasma discharge. They were shaking, mouths agape, hair standing on end, tears in the corners of their eyes. It was unreal to witness a single mobile suit wield such destructive firepower. Until now, it was just rumor-no, LEGEND, but now it had come knocking on their doorstep, thirsty for Martian blood.
A collective cry of grief and defiance erupted as the Martian pilots descended on the Gundam from every direction. Heero responded to their impassioned charge by coldly firing on them with short bursts from the hi-buster rifle. Several fell with each blast, but the others pushed forward.
Once the Geminis were in range to counterattack, they relentlessly barraged their opponent with beam rifle and machinegun fire. The Wing Gundam's backpack fanned open, revealing a dazzling array of powerful vernier thrusters. Heero pitched and rolled through the gunfire with precise, controlled movements. With every opening, he responded with more rifle blasts and shots from the double beam guns mounted on the Gundam's shield. As they drew closer, he began repelling them with vicious bursts from the Gundam's shoulder gatlings.
Their numbers grew thinner. Several Gemini dolls drew their heat sabers. Heero sidestepped the first doll to take a swing and blasted it in the back with a rifle burst. He spun around and blocked another doll's heat saber with the hi-buster rifle's beam bayonet. The doll was forced off balance by the Gundam's superior strength and riddled with machinecannon fire. Heero pre-empted the next doll and slashed it through with the bayonet before it could complete its saber swing.
The dolls that fell were able to buy enough time for the others to form a cohesive firing line. They unloaded their heavy machineguns and beam rifles on the Gundam.
Heero raised the large shield on his suit's left arm. The shield projected an electric field that deflected the shells and bolts like child's play. The double beam guns on the shield pivoted forward and returned fire on the dolls, allowing the Gundam to defend and attack simultaneously. The dolls scattered as their firing line was demolished by their opponent's precise counterattack.
More Gemini squads and carriers arrived to counter ESDF's strike team. Two Commander-type Geminis lead the charge, but they were cut down by two precision rifle bolts. It was Shouta in his Serpent-V, having taken the shots from 10 kilometers away. The dolls under control of the Commander-types fell limp as they stopped receiving orders.
"They're all yours, Ichy." Shouta backed off to reposition with his sniper rifle.
Matthew Larson barreled onto the battlespace like a storm. His Serpent-V bolted for a carrier and changed to its mobile suit form. It unloaded two large shells from the snub-nosed cannons on its shoulder pauldrons, blasting apart the carrier's bridge and disabling it outright. The Serpent-V spun around and brandished its serpent rifle which had been modified into a squad-automatic-weapon, the battle rifle now taking its ammo from a belt and box.
Matthew mowed down the disabled dolls first so they could not be recovered for later battles. He then turned his attention on the active dolls, spraying unholy amounts of lead in their direction. They were pushed back, unable to cope with the intense suppressing fire.
The Geminis looked for another angle of attack to bring down Matthew's Serpent-V, but they mysteriously began taking fire from an unknown source. The Martian pilots saw nothing, but beam bolts and rifle shots kept coming from different directions, thinning their numbers. Adam's mobile suit suddenly appeared like a ghost on the battlefield. He had customized his Serpent-V with hyper jammers, making it into a stealth fighter, like his old days in the air force.
The mobile suit vanished again after a fit of static. Terrified, many of the Martian pilots began to retreat to other parts of the defensive line.
As the MSR forces fell back, another Serpent-V appeared and cut off their path of retreat. It fired off several beam shots at first, but then tossed the rifle aside.
"I don't even need this!" Fuji declared. His Serpent-V reached across to its other shoulder and drew a two-handed beam saber hilt from its shield. Fuji ignited the saber, and an emerald blade sprouted to life, as long as the mobile suit was tall. He split open two dolls expertly, and then a third.
Fuji's shield was shorter than the stock shield for the Serpent-V. It was mounted to the left shoulder instead of the forearm to free up the left hand. A rare Grief Gemini attacked Fuji's blind side with its heat sword, but he spun around and parried the blow with the beam blade hidden on his suit's left arm. Having thrown his opponent off balance, Fuji surged forward and slashed through the other suit with both blades in one strike. The critically damaged Grief exploded dramatically behind Fuji's Serpent-V.
The Grief's partner arrived, catching Fuji off guard. It came down on him with a full-bodied swing, but another Serpent-V arrived and surprised the Grief with a kick to the sternum. The Sergeant dispatched the suit with two well-placed carbine shots.
"Stop showing off, Fuji," the Sergeant demanded dryly. He shot down two more dolls with the chain gun mounted under his shield. "Try to take this a bit more seriously."
Another Grief charged at the Sergeant, but his Serpent-V closed distance first and kneed the Grief in its belly with debilitating force. Still active, the Grief moved to attack again, but it was bashed in the face twice with the Serpent-V's shield. Delirious, the Grief made a wild swing at its opponent, but the Sergeant caught the Grief's sword arm with his free hand. With control of his opponent's sword hand, the Serpent-V rolled over the Grief's back and made it decapitate itself with its own sword.
Fuji's jaw was on the ground. "You're telling ME not to show off!?"
"Sorry. It just sort of happened..."
Fuji and the Sergeant turned as another wave of Geminis arrived, but a massive golden beam came down from above and obliterated the formation's entire right side. The beam swept across the field and smashed the entire Gemini formation in one blow.
The Commander's Wing Gundam descended onto the scene. The other pilots stared at the charred remains of the two dozen Gemini suits with wide eyes. It was just unnerving how much firepower this Gundam possessed. They would never get used to it.
"Are we done here?" Commander Yuy addressed his squad sharply. "Let's go."
The pilots collected themselves and responded, "Right!" Altogether, they pushed further through the MSR defensive line, cutting a swath all the way to the captured resource satellite.
Terror gripped the engineers in the satellite control center. All eyes were glued on the monitors tracking the movements of the ESDF strike team.
"L-lieutenant Winters!" One of the engineers stammered, "There's an 88% chance of that beam cannon destroying this resource satellite in a single shot...and it looks like it can be fired repeatedly! We have to tell the soldiers to retreat NOW!"
"Don't be stupid," Isaac spat back. "Those Earth bastards might be hyper-violent thugs, but more than anything, they're greedy. They would sooner sell their own children to slavery than throw away this satellite and everything on it."
The engineer was taken aback, but his fear had not been dissuaded.
What an inelegant weapon, Isaac thought pensively. Wasteful and imprecise-typical of Earthlings. It was this thoughtlessness that made them so ugly...
"They're going to infiltrate the satellite to regain control of it," Isaac declared. "I'm not going to give back a single inch. The soldiers and I are going to defend this command center. You engineers can fall back to the carriers."
The engineers did not budge. Instead, they picked up assault rifles, too, ready to defend the satellite. If Isaac was anything, he was brave, and they were not about to betray that bravery.
The Wing Gundam landed on the rocky satellite, just outside a set of bay doors. Overhead, a frenzied dogfight continued. MSR defenses were even thicker at the satellite itself, but now several ESDF regiments had joined the assault against them. With the MSR defensive line compromised by Zero Squadron, ESDF was able to send its forces through to the satellite.
The entry point they found on the satellite surface was several kilometers from the satellite's control center, but it would have to do. Zero Squadron was to secure the entry point while its leader infiltrated the satellite on foot.
Heero slashed open the bay doors with his Gundam's bayonet and pushed the barriers apart with the point of his shield. Immediately, he was met with assault rifle fire from the infantrymen entrenched in the hangar. Unfazed, the Gundam sprayed its head vulcans left and right across the room, obliterating all the equipment and soldiers inside.
Silence. Then alarms and flashing lights.
With the hangar secure, Heero walked his mobile suit inside and deployed the planet defensers mounted on the Gundam's shield. The feather-shaped defensers formed an electric barrier at the bay doors, preventing any escape or interference. The Gundam knelt down at the facility entrance, a section of its torso unlocking and folding open with a hiss.
The Gundam's pilot emerged from the mobile suit's control chamber, clad head to toe in black-plated armor. The high tech suit's helmet obscured his face completely, save for a ghastly red camera-eye.
He held in his hands a high-caliber semi-automatic rifle with an under-barrel tube attachment. It was supported by a strap slung over the other shoulder. Two short blades were sheathed into housings across the wearer's collar, the handles pointing forward for quick access.
Under the satellite's micro-gravity, Heero leapt up from his mobile suit and used his assault armor's thrusters to boost into a hallway leading deeper into the facility. He touched ground gracefully and advanced with quiet intensity.
Machinegun fire erupted as he met with a pocket of soldiers at a choke point. Bullets whizzed past and peppered his suit. The soldiers expected him to fall quickly to the heavy barrage, but the black armor was nigh impervious to light arms fire. Heero assumed a low stance to brace for his rifle's immense recoil.
The human body, as any experienced combatant would understand it, was a powerful, lethal weapon. Honed by training, it was tough as stone and hard like steel. It could withstand crushing blows and dish out punishment like none could believe-an instrument to be feared and respected.
To a .50 caliber bullet, however, the human body was nothing more than a sac of fluids held loosely together by protein and calcium. A trigger pull was the only difference between a walking, talking person and a thick stain on the ceiling. It was all cold, simple fact.
A shell blasted out of the rifle like a cannon. The hollow-point slug punched through the foremost soldier, obliterating his ribcage and killing him instantly. The other soldiers behind him flinched and stopped shooting as they were splattered with a fine mist of blood and lung. They were shell-shocked, never having witnessed such violence before.
Before the dead soldier's legs even fell out from under him, Heero fired two more rounds, mutilating another two combatants. The last three panicked and dove behind cover, unsure of what to do against an invulnerable opponent with the firepower of an anti-tank rifle.
One frantically dug for a grenade and lobbed it high into the hallway. The assault armor's visor locked onto it instantly, and Heero shot it mid-air. The grenade exploded prematurely, knocking the Martian soldiers over.
Hopelessly stunned, the three soldiers struggled to recover, but in that time, the infiltrator had already closed distance and rounded the corner. Three more rifle blasts rang down the hallway. Then silence.
Advancing deeper into the facility, the black-suited infiltrator moved through the corridors like a vengeful ghost. The visor's red eye glowed obscenely.
He came upon a group of soldiers entrenched in an open room, blocking his path. They fired their assault rifles, not yet knowing the armor was impervious. Decades of a mobile suit arms race had left MSR unprepared, having neglected the technology of their infantrymen.
Heero aimed at the floor at the center of the room and fired his rifle's under-barrel attachment. It was a chemical flare that blinded with high-intensity light. The entire room was instantly incapacitated, robbed of their sight.
The armor's visor shielded the infiltrator's eyes, filtering out that bandwidth of light. Floundering in plain sight, his opponents were helpless. He took aim careful aim and blasted each one amid the intense glare.
The blinding light subsided. A black ghost stood alone in a room littered with mutilated bodies.
Heero ejected the spent cartridge from his rifle. Before he could complete the reload, two more MSR soldiers surprised him.
With no ammunition, the infiltrator reacted by firing the tube launcher at the man who ran in last. The chemical flare hit him dead in the chest. It burned so hot that he found himself enveloped in blinding-hot flames. He screamed in desperate pain as he tried to pat out the fire.
The other soldier, partially blinded from the flare and distracted by the screams of his ally, was unaware of the coming attack. Heero used the assault armor's backpack and leg thrusters to skate across the room at full speed. He launched his knee into the other man's gut and finished him with a chop to the neck.
The light subsided. The soldier hit with the flare was now writhing on the floor, covered in terrible burns. He wretched in agonizing pain. Heero kicked him in the jaw, knocking him out.
Silence. Heero pushed a new magazine into his rifle and chambered the first round. Wordlessly, he continued onward.
He hurried down a long corridor, having dispatched three more groups of MSR soldiers. The ceiling lights rushing past as he advanced. The satellite's control center should be just ahead. This will all be over soon.
Stopping at a locked entrance, Heero began punching numbers into the keypad. The Martian engineers had changed the entry code, but they had obviously done it in a hurry. All five of his hand's digits were a blur as they rattled the keypad. One last press of his thumb and the lock gave. The door unbolted and slid open with a snap-hiss. Heero ducked quickly into the control room, rifle ready, but stopped when he saw what was inside.
He lowered his rifle and stood up straight to confront his opposition. He had expected another dozen MSR soldiers with guns and explosives, but there was a simply a lone officer with a saber in hand.
It was Isaac Winters. The young officer was clad in formal military wear and had dark gray locks of hair. Wordlessly, he drew his saber from its scabbard.
Isaac gazed upon the soldier in front of him. The other man was clad in black body armor, spattered top to bottom with blood. Undoubtedly, it was the blood of the soldiers who vowed to defend the satellite with him, and this man was the pilot who leveled an entire Martian battalion single-handedly. Fearlessly, Isaac lowered the blade's point to the ground, inviting the infiltrator to attack him.
I could end this with one bullet, Heero thought. Heero couldn't be harmed by a blade in his body armor. Engaging him was pointless. But something about the other man made his blood boil.
Isaac watched the other soldier undo his rifle's sling and toss the heavy weapon aside. He unlocked his helmet and removed it entirely. Isaac was surprised to see his opponent was another young soldier not much older than himself. He had a handsome face, but a familiar, unfathomable coldness in his eyes.
In a show of aggression, Heero slammed his helmet into the wall behind him, not breaking eye contact with Isaac. The helmet was driven so far into the plating that it stuck in place. Isaac knew right away how much danger he was facing, but he was unfazed.
War was stupid and senseless, Heero thought. He was already lost to all of it. Why not indulge in its senselessness?
Heero reached to his other shoulder and gripped the blade handle sheathed across his collar. The shadowy blade sang as it was drawn from its housing. It was a straight, single-edged knife with dimensions similar to a tanto.
The two exchanged no words. There was no honor or humanity between them. One would simply leave this room with his life, and the other would bleed out on the floor of some godforsaken rock.
Heero assumed a low stance, his blade pointed forward in a handshake grip for maximum reach. His free hand was set across his chest, ready to respond to an attack at a moment's notice. He exuded a crushing, razor-sharp aura only experienced killers possessed.
Isaac's eyes narrowed. The hair on his neck and arms stood on end. Run, his instincts told him, but he did not back down. This earthling was going to pay for all the Martian blood he's spilled, Isaac promised. It took all the self-control he could muster to not bare his fangs and roar. Isaac stood tall, taking a dignified and direct stance. He set one foot forward and presented a narrow profile to his opponent, his saber point low to the ground, his other hand behind his back.
A tense silence choked the air as the two stared each other down from opposite sides of the room. They sized each other up, fighting a battle in their minds. Heero's opponent had much greater reach. Heero could only attack after entering his opponent's striking range. He could tell his opponent's sword was well-crafted. Its cross guard extended into a curve over the hand. The saber had a straight, narrow blade and was sharpened with two edges. It would be light, nimble, and razor-sharp at its point.
The infiltrator had an enormous advantage, Isaac knew, but not all was fair in war. The body armor was impervious to rifle bullets and likely immune to saber strikes as well. Isaac could see openings in the armor's joints covered only in a Kevlar-like material. Perhaps the joints could be pierced, but it was a risky gamble to try. The flexibility of the body armor made its wearer vulnerable to joint locks and holds, but that was largely unnecessary. Isaac's opponent was kind enough to remove his helmet. That was the only opening he needed.
Suddenly, Isaac leveled a pistol he was holding behind his back. Like a blur, Heero's free hand drew the second blade from his collar and flung the weapon across the room like a missile. The blade knocked the pistol from Isaac's grip, causing it to misfire. Both weapons skittered to the floor.
Isaac's momentary shock was enough time for Heero to speed across the room using his assault armor's thrusters. He lunged forward with his knife.
Isaac pivoted sideways, evading the thrust, astonished at his opponent's quickness. Isaac made a fast cut at Heero's neck as he backed outside of Heero's reach. Heero blocked the saber with his blade as he touched ground and turned to pursue Isaac.
Heero advanced on his opponent aggressively, but Isaac continued to back out of reach. Heero deflected and leaned away from a flurry of thrusts and cuts aimed at his face. His short blade was plenty fast enough to meet Isaac's saber point at any angle.
Isaac was no amateur. He never over-exerted and attacked with quick, conservative movements. The saber was a gentleman's weapon. Any show of power was gauche and disgraceful. A simple flick of the wrist could split his opponent's head wide open. It would be foolish to try to overpower his opponent with a wide swing.
Heero was caught off-guard as Isaac made a long-reaching thrust with his saber. Heero leaned to the side, the blade point narrowly missing his ear as it shot past, but Isaac followed with a side chop. Heero's short blade stopped the fatal blow and pushed his opponent's sword downward. Heero pivoted forward, bringing Isaac into his knife's striking range.
Heero's swordplay was fast and highly technical. He feigned multiple strikes and changed direction constantly. The blows were aimed at Isaac's vitals as often as they were aimed at Isaac's sword arm. Incapacitating your opponent's ability to fight back was synonymous with victory.
With his range advantage compromised, Isaac brought his sword hand closer to his chest as he deflected multiple rapid attacks. He kept pace and counterattacked, hoping to interrupt his opponent's offensive, but Heero deflected every blow and surged onward. Their blades clashed repeatedly, raising sparks.
Heero batted Isaac's sword hand down with his free hand and made a wide slash with his short blade, aiming to decapitate his opponent. Isaac ducked low below the attack, his saber poised upward. Isaac's saber point shot up, aiming to pierce through Heero's skull from underneath. Heero simultaneously flipped backward out of the attack and twisted into a kick. His right shin crashed into the side of Isaac's neck. They were both thrown off balance.
Isaac was pushed a few steps sideways from the momentum of the kick, but he was tough and regained his balance. Heero, having fallen backward, flipped onto his feet again. They had pushed each other out of striking range.
Isaac assumed a fighting stance again, but immediately noticed something terribly wrong. He had an eerie feeling that his opponent had some other trick up his sleeve, and now he knew what that was: the edge of Isaac's saber had been completely destroyed. The amount of sparks flying in their tradeoff was unusually high. Heero had been blocking Isaac's attacks using the edge of his blade instead the flat, causing the edges to bite into each other.
Heero's short blade was pristine. Not a scratch or blemish was seen on it. Isaac understood now: his opponent's weapons were made from Gundanium-the edges polished by lasers. The saber he wielded was made from incredibly fine steel, but it was no match for a Gundanium edge. If it could cut through another sword, it could likely cut through flesh like butter. The technology at his opponent's disposal was fearsome.
Heero surged forward again, flipping his blade to reverse grip mid-rush. Isaac tried to cut him down before Heero got too close, but he was too fast. Heero got in close and attacked with powerful slashes and stabbing motions. The reverse grip limited his range even further, but it allowed him to put up a more technical defense. Isaac blocked the attacks with the base of his saber and brought a heavy blow downward on Heero.
In a blur, Heero caught his opponent's saber between his own blade and the armor on his forearm. Isaac tried to pull the weapon away, but Heero's grip was too firm. Heero's free hand swept sideways, intersecting with the middle of the saber and snapping the blade in two.
The end of Isaac's saber spun freely in the air until Heero caught it in his free hand and brought its point down on Isaac's knee. Isaac backed out from Heero's reach, receiving only a superficial cut on the side of his leg.
Isaac took a few deep breaths at a distance, astonished at his opponent's skill. Heero stood up slowly, a detached, unfeeling look in his eyes. He tossed the destroyed end of Isaac's saber blade aside and readied his knife again.
The Martian soldier readied his weapon as well, but now it, too, was the length of a long knife. It no longer had a sharp point, but it was still more than capable of killing his opponent. Isaac assumed a low stance like Heero and kept his free hand right behind his blade. This was a different kind of fight now.
Taking the initiative, Isaac charged first. His blade flashed out to slash his opponent's face. Heero leaned back out of range and instantly riposted by slashing up at Isaac's wrist. Isaac turned his hand, allowing the sword's guard to absorb the blow.
Isaac feigned a series of attacks, moving his hands but not fully committing, to confuse his opponent for an opening. Heero's knife mirrored the motion to counter a possible attack, but he was too disciplined to be fooled. Isaac aimed a stab for Heero's face with the broken, jagged blade. Heero batted Isaac's sword away using his free hand and stepped in, closing even more distance.
With his knife in reverse grip, Heero made a series of wildly fast, circular slashes. Isaac intercepted the slashes with his blade. Heero aimed a strong stab for the side of Isaac's neck. Isaac blocked the blow by intercepting Heero's arm with his own forearm.
The pace ramped up even further. They slashed wildly at each other, their blades making rapid changes in direction, looking for any possible angle of attack. They attacked and defended simultaneously, deflecting blows with their blades and batting down attacks with their free hands.
Suddenly, Heero caught Isaac's blade with his left hand, his gauntlet protecting him from any damage. Isaac released his weapon and captured Heero's sword hand under his left arm. With his newly freed fist, Isaac landed two savage punches on Heero's jaw, but when the third came down, Heero blocked using his elbow, causing Isaac to break his own hand.
Heero dropped the captured weapon and punched Isaac's shoulder, the shock causing his opponent to release Heero's blade hand. Heero drove the blade deep into Isaac's left bicep. The piercing of flesh caused blood to erupt from the wound. He released the knife and opened up on Isaac with a brutal combination of punches and elbow strikes. Finally, he grabbed Isaac's right arm and, using his own body as a lever, threw his opponent into one of the computer consoles, smashing the screens.
Isaac bounced off the screens and drifted to the floor, wretching from all the hits he took. He stood up painfully, his back turned to his opponent as Heero approached. Isaac's saber couldn't pierce that armor, but...
Isaac pulled the Gundanium blade from his bicep and spun around. He hammered the blade down in a powerful stab. Heero stopped the blow with his left hand, catching Isaac's fist, but allowing the blade to pierce through the middle of his palm. Heero's grip was relentlessly strong, even with a knife skewering his hand.
Having caught his opponent's fist, Heero landed a haymaker punch on Isaac's jaw and followed up with a powerful straight kick to Isaac's side. With his hand still caught, Isaac's body absorbed the entire blow, and he contorted limply with the kick. Heero hit Isaac with another kick, this time releasing his grip. Isaac tumbled backward into a wall, barely conscious.
Heero pulled the Gundanium knife out from his left hand and dropped it to the ground, blood dribbling from his wound. Wordlessly, he activated the plasma torch on his suit's right knuckle. The green flame fizzed to life before concentrating into an intensely focused plasma blade, three inches long.
The incapacitated Isaac watched his opponent approach. He couldn't see Heero's face, but he could see that cruel, green flame and the lack of hesitation in his step.
Heero stood over Isaac, ready to end their fight. He turned when he heard metal pins clinking. Two grenades bounced into the middle of the room. Heero shielded himself with both his arms as they detonated.
Heero's body armor protected him from the explosion. He dropped low as the blast cleared, his ears ringing from the pressure wave, peering through the smoke for any new threats. He noticed right away that Isaac was no longer next to him. Through the smoke, he saw two soldiers carrying the injured officer through the back exit.
He stood up slowly, sensing the battle was over.
Barely conscious, Isaac growled at the two men carrying him away, "What are you doing?"
"We're retreating, Lieutenant," one of the young men answered.
Isaac coughed up a bit of blood. He was angry. "Why don't you let me die, then?!"
The two men could feel tears welling up in their eyes. They marched onward, regardless. "You have to live, Lieutenant. We lost today, but we have to live to keep fighting."
Isaac gave in. He didn't have any strength left to resist and let the soldiers carry him to safety. He felt ashamed and worthless for losing. Now they could not send this resource satellite to Mars, and his people would go hungry for another day.
The Martian soldiers retreated to the back end of the satellite and left in their mobile suits and carriers, Isaac secured with a medical team. They rejoined the MSR formation outside as the Martian forces retreated to regroup, destined for another battlefield.
In the control room, Heero disabled the resource satellite's engines and disabled all the security locks. On the cameras, he monitored the MSR soldiers as they retreated. He radioed the ESDF units outside: "Martian forces have retreated from the satellite."
Mission complete.
He recovered his equipment and returned to his mobile suit unimpeded. Other ESDF units began landing on the satellite to regain control of its facilities.
Heero slumped into his pilot seat, haggard from the ordeal. The cockpit canopy closed over him and locked with a hiss. The Martians were desperate, he realized. They fought so hard over an agricultural plant... It made sense in war to capture food and supplies, but their desperation told him that Mars was struggling to keep its people fed.
Pangs of remorse overtook him. How frustrating. In any other circumstance, ESUN would be offering aid instead of sending soldiers out to fight Martians. But it was the Martian Space Republic who struck first, and ESUN was responsible for protecting its citizens.
Heero removed his left gauntlet and inspected the wound in his hand. It still bled heavily. The blade had passed between the bones, missing anything vital. The wound should heal alright, but it was just an extremely irritating place to have an injury. He pressed a medical cloth over the wound to help stop the bleeding.
Serves me right, he thought. It was the same hand she held, Heero remembered. He had thrown aside that blessing to spill more blood on the battlefield. Today he killed and maimed with no hesitation. He was no longer deserving of kindness or the home he left behind. This wound was simply the final sign that his humanity was gone.
There was no going back.
Act II, Episode II: Battlefront - End
-Seraphic
The Martian rebels make their final campaign against the Earth Alliance at Deimos, and Sage calls on an old friend. Will it be a revolution or a continuation of the cycle of bloodshed? Next time on New Mobile History Gundam Wing: The Sword,
Act Special, Episode II: The Betrayal