Chapter Two

Mars Station, in high orbit around the red planet, was a bulky, unlovely construct that resembled nothing so much as a messy array of gray metal donuts stacked one on top of the other. Below the main "stack" a couple more of the torus shaped levels hung from massive support struts: these were the massive hangar and launch bays, as well as the recovery platforms, for the station's compliment of mecha. Extending out from the rings were long docking struts, where support craft -- everything from the shuttles that ferried personnel and supplies up from the planet, to the skeletal-looking transport vessels known as Maxiframes -- could dock with and access the station.

Situated in the lowest pendant ring of the orbital station, the hangar bay was bustling with activity. Jumpsuited technicians and mechanics scurried about, readying the combat mecha for patrol duty or repairing those which had recently returned from battle. Seto ignored them all as he strode across the echoing bay, his boot heels ringing on the metal grate flooring. Instinctively, his gaze sought out his own robot, the mighty Blue-Eyes White Dragon, resting in its spot-lit gantry against the back wall of the cavernous hangar.

Like all the active duty mecha, his Dragon was in its humanoid mode, metal arms slack at its sides, great blue-white wings folded against its back. Metal-armored skin gleamed like polished silver under the sodium lights. Massive hands strong enough to rip apart an enemy mech or to wield the enormous rail gun 'holstered' inside its hollow right leg lay open on their rests. As always when confronted with this magnificent creation, Seto felt his heart swell with possessive pride. It took something special to pilot one of these extraordinary machines and Seto was one of the few to truly excel at it.

With the Dark Magician out of commission there were only three other Duel Mecha in service, with more in production. Almost against Seto's will, he found his gaze drawn to the darkened gantry at the end of the row. It was set slightly apart from the others, as if what it housed was special even among these exceptional machines. The prototype, the first of its kind -- and the only one without technicians swarming over its outer surface, probing its circuitry and testing its armaments. Purple armor so dark it almost appeared black blended seamlessly into the shadows surrounding the mech. Even quiescent in its gantry, the humanoid machine projected an air of elegant menace. Its silver face modeled in a perpetual, knowing smirk, the Dark Magician waited patiently for its pilot's return.

Seto allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk of his own. The Dark Magician was in for a long wait. Without a partner, an Anchor to prevent him from losing himself permanently in his gestalt with the machine's AI, Yami wasn't leaving his desk job anytime soon. And that meant Seto's position as the top-ranked pilot was unassailable. In the exclusive club that was the Duel Mech squadron, only his cousin had ever bested him in the skies.

Shoving thoughts of his irritating 'superior' from his mind, Seto rode the lift up the side of the gantry and hopped over the rail onto the lowered chest plastron of his Dragon. Technicians went about their tasks with well-honed precision, sealing him inside the robot. In the cockpit located inside the robot's skull, Seto stepped into the pilot's sling and felt it take his weight, giving him a sensation of weightlessness as he strapped on his helmet and pulled on sensor-laden gloves that fit snugly over his hands like a second skin.

He left the comm off as he stretched out his arms and legs and let the mech's sensors, wide silvery ribbons, slither up his hands and arms beneath his sleeves. He shivered at the cool touch of the sensor ribbon, chilly metal and plastic settling snugly against him as if drawn by the warmth of his body. From behind him more sensor ribbons slipped around his torso in a tight embrace, sliding through special slits in his jumpsuit to contact bare skin. One slipped down the back of his neck, nestling into place along his spine, its flat tip centered just over his coccyx. More tendrils wrapped themselves lovingly around his legs at thigh, knee, calf, and ankle. On his feet the straps over his boots, and the soles of the snug-fitting boots themselves, contained sensors of their own.

Now wired into the mech's control system, Seto took a deep breath, centering himself in preparation for the final connection -- mind-to-mind with the machine's artificial intelligence. The contacts inside the helmet pressed against receivers implanted beneath his skin, allowing him access to the computer…and allowing it access to his consciousness. As he had stretched out his limbs, now he stretched out his thoughts, represented on the display before him by a glowing blue ribbon of light, twisting along a virtual reality tunnel until his mind connected with that of the mech's artificial intelligence.

The AI's 'mind' was a similar, shining ribbon, this one as white and cold as arctic ice. As the two ribbons met, they wound around one another, creating a new ribbon that shimmered blue-white in the surrounding shadows. The light of the combined ribbons flared, turning everything in Seto's mind to a blinding, incandescent white as bright as a Blue-Eyes' Neutron Blast... And then he was the Dragon and the Dragon was him and they were one.

The lights on the console flashed green as a flat mechanical voice stated, "TEM engaged. Human/AI interface complete. Gestalt achieved. All systems at full power. Control transfer complete in five…four…three…two…one. Transfer complete."

The Blue-Eyes turned his head, settling into the mechanical body that was as familiar as the flesh he had been born to, and flexed massive durasteel hands. He opened his eyes, seeing the world in spectra far beyond merely human sight. As always, he reveled in the sensation of power coursing through his body, raw firepower and awesome physical might his to command with a thought. If the mech's silvery, durasteel face had been capable of expression, he would have grinned with a grim kind of glee, as he clenched one giant fist and felt the gantry rock as the launch cradle engaged.

From his seat in the space station's control center, his Anchor called over the pilots' channel, "You ready, big brother?"

The Blue-Eyes almost winced at the eagerness in Mokuba Kaiba's voice. If he concentrated, he could feel the bio-pulses of his Anchor: the rapid heartbeat pounding against the sensor on Mokuba's chest, the warmth of living tissue cradled in cold plastic and aluminum, the minute fidgeting of Mokuba's limbs as if he literally itched for battle. For a second, he wanted nothing more than to order Seto Kaiba's little brother to disengage from their link and go back to Domino City, where there was at least the illusion of safety. Instead, he toggled the mike and responded sternly, "That's Captain, Lieutenant Kaiba."

"Oops. Sorry, big bro-- Uh, Captain. Sir."

"What's our system status?" the Blue-Eyes asked, choosing to ignore the slip this time. Though he could see the status perfectly well on his head-up display, he needed to get his Anchor focused on the job at hand. This might be nothing but a 'routine' patrol, but in their line of work, it was never a good idea to let your guard down for even a moment. Of course, that was his motto off-duty as well, but the Blue-Eyes didn't let himself dwell on such trivialities.

"All systems green, sir!" came the crisp response.

Satisfied, the Blue-Eyes White Dragon activated the comm channel that would connect him to flight operations. "Control, Blue-Eyes. Ready when you are."

"Roger, Blue-Eyes," came the response. "Prepare for transfer."

"Roger."

Metal clanged against metal as the gantry lurched into motion. A few moments later, the mech had made the transfer from hangar to launch tube. The head-up display showed him when the transfer was complete, even as he felt the docking clamps release his feet and the grip of the catapult take their place. His body trembled with the force of his booster rockets igniting beneath him. Another screen inside the first showed him the Red-Eyes Black Dragon crouched in its own tube, powering up for launch.

"Blue-Eyes on deck."

"Red-Eyes on deck."

"Roger. Blue-Eyes, you are cleared for launch."

Time to go to work.

"Launching." The word was barely out of his mouth before the powerful combined thrust of the catapult and his rockets sent him blasting out of the launch tube and into the airless void of space. A second behind him, the Red-Eyes followed.

------------------

Yami stared at the report he was composing on his work station screen. The new remote interface for the Duel Mecha was ready for field testing as soon as General Anderson signed off on it. Then all that remained would be convincing the pilots to actually use it. His mouth quirked. Only one of the pilots would be a real problem. And his name was Seto.

Of its own volition, Yami's hand reached out to brush the prototype remote on the desk in front of him. About a third the size of his palm, the device was flat and thin, and painted a dark metallic purple along the outer edges. The center was silver. It looked, in fact, a lot like a miniature version of the face of the Dark Magician mech. Almost reluctantly, he picked up the remote and held it in his hand as he studied it. Even in miniature form, the Magician's eyes seemed to accuse him.

Yami shook himself. Stop being foolish and get back to work, he thought sourly. He yanked open a desk drawer, intending to stow the remote interface device out of sight. But something made him hesitate. He wavered uncertainly for a moment, then tucked the device into his pocket and turned resolutely back to his report.

The text blurred into meaninglessness and, after another minute, he closed the file. A few quick commands brought up a different screen, this one tapping directly into the feed from the Duel Mecha control center. Within the control center, the support techs and Anchors for the pilots were in constant contact with the giant robots as they patrolled the inner reaches of the Solar System.

Another command focused his screen on the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. As always, Seto had integrated seamlessly with his mech. That deep gestalt was what made him such a formidable pilot. It was also the reason his bond with his Anchor was so crucial; without Mokuba, there would be no way for Seto to untangle his human mind from the AI at the end of the mission. As with all the Anchors, Mokuba was there to help pull his pilot's consciousness back from its meld with the machine, to be the anchor to his pilot's humanity.

Thinking of Mokuba brought to mind Yami's own lost Anchor. In truth, Anzu was never far from his thoughts these days. In the beginning, he had been too numb with grief and too preoccupied with the slow healing of his body to give much thought to anything else. From a portable vid receiver Joey had smuggled into the base hospital on Mars, Yami watched without real interest as the mechanics and cybernicians worked around the clock to bring the Dark Magician back to life. When he returned to duty six weeks later, he had visited the hangar bay--once. The partially-rebuilt Dark Magician seemed to stare down at him with blank, accusing eyes, as if it knew he had abandoned it. Yami had not been back to the mecha hangar since, not even to witness first hand the design innovations he had helped create since his reassignment to research and development.

And then the dreams had started.

Bad enough to relive his last battle, to awaken with the stench of burning circuitry and melting rubber in his nostrils, and the taste of ozone and blood on his tongue. But now he must also endure the gaze of the Dark Magician (with the bizarre logic of dreams, the Magician was flesh rather than metal), bitter with anger and disappointment. Then the Magician's eyes would morph into Anzu's--equally disappointed, equally accusing. He would wake with his heart hammering in his chest, his body covered in cold sweat, and the feel of her blood on his hands. Sleep had become the enemy as surely as the aliens

invading the Solar System; each time he closed his eyes, Anzu was there. He blamed himself for her death…and, deep inside, he knew that she did, too. That was when he knew. He would never again be able to face the Dark Magician without shame. He would never accept another as his Anchor.

He would never pilot a Duel Mech, again.

Command had not been pleased, but the staff psychologist agreed with Yami. In his current state, he was incapable of forming the necessary bond with a new Anchor and without an Anchor, he was grounded. Yami pushed to be reassigned to a regular force-suit unit where he could pilot one of the non-enhanced mecha that made up the bulk

of the space force. Command refused. Yami's father pushed for him to take the honorable discharge he had earned and return to Earth to take his proper place as heir-apparent to the family's corporate empire. Yami refused. Eventually, he was reassigned to his current position in mech support where, as Seto liked to remind him, he flew nothing but a desk.

And there he had sat for what felt like an eternity. Brooding, according to Joey. 'Slacking off,' if one listened to Seto. In Yami's opinion, he was slowly losing his mind. The dreams were getting steadily worse, more vivid and bizarre with each repetition. And a new element had been added: in addition to Anzu's demise, he had begun to witness his own death, though the details were still hazy. All he really knew was that there was blood, his blood, and lots of it. And pain. He always awoke with the conviction he should be screaming in agony as his body tore itself apart. He was sure the dreams were tearing his mind apart. Why else would the shadows have begun whispering to him?

With a ragged sigh, he dropped his head into his hands. He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. He was tired all the time from lack of sleep and he was having trouble concentrating on his work. His commanding officer had already sent him for another psych evaluation. The report wasn't back yet, but Yami had a feeling it would recommend something he wasn't going to like. He was starting to wonder if he should just give in to his father's demands and return to Earth. It would make his mother happy, at least.

A signal tone from the work station dragged his attention back to the present. The patrol was in trouble. On the screen, one of the Duel Mecha silhouettes flashed red, indicating catastrophic systems damage. Yami sat up and pulled the monitor closer, fingers dancing nimbly across the controls as he brought up the telemetry on a separate screen. The mech in trouble was the Blue-Eyes White Dragon.

Yami's free hand scrabbled across his desk, seeking the head-set he had tossed onto it at the end of the duty-cycle the day before. Finding the head-set, he put it on one-handed, then keyed up the comm system. A second later, Mokuba's frantic voice was shouting in his ear. Yami winced and turned down the volume.

"…brother! Do you read me? Big brother?"

Mokuba still hadn't gotten the hang of military discipline. Fortunately for him, the Solar System Defense Force tended toward leniency where its Duel Mecha pilots and their Anchors were concerned. There was a reason there were only three active Duel Mecha teams in the service and it wasn't because recruitment was down. Suitable pilot candidates were difficult to come by; those who could pass the exacting training were even rarer. The SSDF did what it could to keep its valuable Duel Mecha teams happy.

There was no response from the Blue-Eyes beyond a burst of static on the channel. Yami could hear Mokuba becoming even more frantic and quickly switched on his mike.

"Mokuba? Listen to me," Yami said, in the most soothing voice he could muster. "Slow down and remember your training. Seto needs you to be calm, now."

"Yami? Is that you?" Mokuba sounded as if he were struggling to hold back tears. "Yami?"

"Yes, it's me, little cousin." Yami and Seto might be bitter rivals, but fortunately that enmity had never extended to Seto's little brother. "Listen, it's going to be all right."

"But…Seto…"

"Look at the telemetry, Mokuba. He's alive. His comm system is damaged. That's why he isn't answering. He can still feel you, though. The biofeedback is still transmitting. You need to slow your heart rate and breathing. Do you remember how?"

"Yeah…Uh, I mean, yes, sir."

Over the comm, he heard Mokuba take a deep breath, then another, and let it out in a long, slow sigh. On the screen, the frantic dancing of his heartbeat began to slow to a steadier pace. Yami forced his voice to remain soothing and even. "That's good, little cousin. Just like that. You're doing great."

"Thanks, Yami…I mean, sir." Mokuba's voice sounded very small…and younger than his years. Not for the first time, Yami cursed the invaders. Mokuba should be thinking about getting a date with a pretty girl, not worrying whether or not his big brother was still alive.

"Hang in there, little cousin," Yami said, putting all the reassurance and encouragement he could into his voice. "You're doing fine. And don't worry, we'll get him home safely."

"Yes, sir!"

On the screen, parts of the mech's silhouette had cooled to blue, indicating that the machine's self-repair system was functioning. Yami felt a small bit of the knot into which his stomach had twisted itself begin to relax. Radio chatter confirmed what he was seeing: the Blue-Eyes was badly damaged, but largely intact and the remaining Duel Mecha had the surviving invaders on the run. A voice reported that an R-mech retrieval unit had been dispatched to pick up the damaged mech and return it to base. Harpy Lady was requesting permission to pursue the stragglers when Yami switched the comm back to Mokuba.

"Your big brother is okay, Mokuba," he said softly into the mike. "The recovery team is bringing him in."

"I'll be waiting for him," Mokuba said brightly. He had regained most of his equilibrium; the biofeedback lines were all well within tolerance, now. "…I couldn't have done it without you, Yami."

"Sure you could, kiddo," Yami said. "I'm proud of you. Seto will be, too."

"You really think so, sir?"

"I know so."

They both heard the recovery crew announcing they had acquired the Blue-Eyes. Mokuba gave a little cheer. "Gotta go, Yami. Big brother needs me!"

Yami's mouth curved in a tiny smile as he removed his head-set, then ran his fingers through his unruly hair. At least one thing had gone right, today. And, today of all days, he would take his victories where he could find them.

Thirty minutes later, he was summoned to General Anderson's office…and the bottom dropped completely out of Yami's world.

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To his dismay, Joey found himself sharing the lift up from the mecha recovery platform with a pissed-off Captain Kaiba. While he was relieved to see that Kaiba was unhurt, Joey would have preferred the company of the ever lovely Harpy Lady to the always ill-tempered Blue-Eyes. Kaiba seemed too absorbed in his own dark thoughts to spare so much as a glance for his wingman as they waited for the lift to carry them up through the hangar bay and on to the executive level where their debriefing would be conducted and after-action reports filed.

Never one to leave well enough alone, Joey didn't even try to resist the urge to tweak Kaiba's ego. "You're welcome," he said, just as the lift reached their destination.

Halfway through the opening doors, Seto shot him a narrow look. "What?"

"I said 'you're welcome'," Joey said. "I'd've thought someone with a fancy upbringing like yours would have better manners, Kaiba. Guess I was mistaken."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Seto snapped impatiently. He stepped clear of the lift, not looking back to see if Joey followed him. Naturally, Joey did.

"Well, I did save your sorry ass out there," Joey reminded him, blithely striding along beside the irritated captain. "Thought that might be worth at least a 'thanks'. Even from you."

Seto glared at him, increased the length of his stride, and vanished around a bend in the corridor. Joey snorted to himself and muttered, "Goes to show what I know, don't it?"

Dismissing the Blue-Eyes, Joey found his thoughts turning to food. As always when returning from a successful mission -- and, if he were honest, most of the rest of the time, too -- Joey was in the mood for a meal. And not just a microwaved burger or a bowl of instant ramen; he wanted a feast. So, as quickly as he could after the debriefing, he planned to find Yami, drag his friend out of his stuffy office and then planetside to one of Domino City's finer fast food joints. Heck, he'd even pop for Burger World. Or that Moroccan place Yami was so fond of. Whatever it took to get Yami away from the station for a little while. Deep in thought, Joey didn't notice the other pilot until she reached out and waved a perfectly manicured hand in front of his eyes.

"You in there, Joey?"

"Oh." He blinked at her. Even in her regulation flight suit and with her long blonde hair coiled in a tight chignon to fit under her helmet, there was no mistaking Mai Valentine. "Hey, Mai."

Mai frowned. "Jeez, Wheeler. I've heard more enthusiastic greetings from the enemy. Or Captain Blue-Eyes, even."

"Don't speak of the devil, Mai. I've had enough of him for one day."

"What's he done this time?"

"Whatcha think? Bein' a jerk, shootin' his mouth off at Yami. The usual."

"Today? What, Captain Blue-Eyes has a death wish, now?" She frowned. On her, Joey thought even that looked good. "Maybe I should've let that alien mech finish him off, after all."

Joey smiled briefly. "And leave me high and dry, too? Don't you love me anymore, Mai?"

She slapped his arm lightly. "I tolerate you, Joseph. There's a difference."

With a hint of a grin in the eyes peeping out from beneath his too-long bangs, Joey shook his head in mock sorrow. "Still in denial…"

"Speaking of idiots--" Mai waited for the insult to register, then rushed on before he could think of a comeback. "You said Blue-Eyes had another run-in with Yami?"

"Shyeah." Joey snorted derisively. "Can you believe it? Mouthin' off like… That jerk didn't even remember what today was 'til I told him." Joey growled, shook his head. "Beats me how that guy and his ego both fit into a cockpit at the same time."

"Nothing wrong with a healthy ego, hon." Mai laughed, jokingly buffing her nails on the front of her flight suit. "Though our Blue-Eyes does take it to extremes. So…What did Yami do?"

"Nothing. Oh, you could tell he wanted to clean Kaiba's clock, but you know Yami. Always in control. He told Kaiba to get his ass out on patrol, then went to work himself." He shook his head, again. "Don't know how he does it."

"Impulse control is a good thing, Joey. You should look into it sometime." Mai's eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth as she took the easy shot at him, then she sobered. "Poor Yami. Our Blue-Eyed boy is always tightly wound, but Yami…" She shook her head, sobering. "I'm worried about our Dark Magician."

Joey looked at her in surprise. "You are?"

"Joseph Albert Wheeler!" She gave a little huff of exasperation. "You said it yourself. Yami is Mr. Control. One of these days that iron control is going to snap."

"What're you talkin' about?"

Ignoring the question, Mai said, "We lost another force-suit unit in that ambush out past Saturn, yesterday. Word on the grapevine is there may be an infiltrator in the SSDF."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

They stood in silence for a moment before Joey spoke, again. "Look…" Joey stared at her from beneath his tangle of bangs. "What'd you mean about Yami snapping?"

"My civilian contacts tell me his father is agitating to get Yami to take his 'rightful place' at his side and, from what I hear, what Mr. Kaiba wants, Mr. Kaiba gets. We all know Yami's got a sense of duty as big as the Blue-Eyes' ego, but he's resisted so far. He's always felt serving in the Defense Force was more important. Now that he's grounded, though…Who knows what he'll do?"

Joey whistled. "No wonder ol' Captain Blue-Eyes has got a bug up his butt. He thinks he oughta be the next one runnin' Kaiba Corp and he never lets Yami forget it, either."

"Well, up until about three months ago, Seto Kaiba's father was Kaiba Corp's CEO." She cocked a cynical eyebrow. "Gozaburo Kaiba's death is all over the news. They still haven't ruled it a suicide. In fact, it looks a lot like foul play. Murder in the executive suite."

"Wouldn't surprise me if Kaiba shoved his old man out that office window himself." Joey snorted derisively, then shook his head. "Damn. Sometimes I'm really glad to be a poor boy from Brooklyn. Rich people are seriously fucked up."

They shared a laugh. Then Joey sobered. "You know, Yami still blames himself for Anzu's death."

"Like that's a newsflash, hon." Mai looked sympathetic. "He didn't just lose his partner, he lost his fiancée. We've all seen how hard he took her death."

"And his family won't even give him time to grieve! His dad's determined Yami should marry a 'traditional Japanese girl' and as soon as possible. He told me his father even arranged for him to meet with a matchmaker last month. They haven't spoken since. I'd've told the old man where to stick it, but Yami just bottles it up."

"'Mr. Control,' remember?" Mai frowned. "I just hope nothing else happens. It could send

him right over the edge." She made a diving motion with one hand.

"Yeah," Joey agreed, gazing thoughtfully at the floor. Abruptly, he straightened. "Sorry, Mai, I gotta bail. I'm thinkin' maybe our favorite Dark Magician shouldn't be alone right now."

"I think you're right," she said. "Today of all days, Yami needs a break."

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What Yami didn't need, as he left General Anderson's office with a preoccupied frown on his face, was a literal run-in with Seto Kaiba. But that was what he got, as the two of them collided with enough force to knock Yami off his feet. Dazed, he looked up to find his cousin's familiar glare burning down at him.

"What's the matter, Yami?" Seto sneered. "Do you miss your desk so much you have to run back to it?"

As Yami picked himself up off the floor, he felt the familiar anger writhing at his control, struggling to get out. This time he let it.

"I don't have a desk." It came out as a growl, his voice rising with every word. "I don't have an office. And I don't have to put up with you."

Without warning, he lunged at Seto. The attack caught his cousin off-guard and the two of them crashed into the wall, Yami's hands fisted in the fabric of Seto's flightsuit. Despite Seto's height advantage, Yami had the upper hand and he used it to slam his cousin back into the wall, hard. Eyes narrowed, he snarled, "You think you're better than me, Seto? When have you ever beaten me at anything?"

"My Anchor is still alive."

All the color drained from Yami's face. A red haze washed over everything and, in the brightly-lit confines of the corridor, shadows suddenly danced at the edges of his vision. He drew back his fist. "You bastard--"

Something slammed into him just as fist connected with flesh, knocking Yami back into the opposite wall. He growled, teeth bared, long fingers curling into claws, barely even aware of the form which blocked him when he would have gone for Seto's throat.

"Yami!" It took him a second to understand the word as his name, to recognize the worried voice as Joey's. "Don't do this!"

"I'll kill him."

Somehow, the fact that he didn't shout it made Yami's pronouncement all the more frightening. Even Seto backed up a step before he caught himself. Joey tightened his grip on his friend. "Listen to yourself, Yami! You don't mean that, you know you don't. I know he's an asshole, but he ain't worth doin' time."

"It doesn't matter…" Yami slumped against Joey's arms, the fight drained out of him with a suddenness that was shocking. "Nothing matters."

"Don't say that--"

Seto interrupted. "Assaulting a fellow officer, Yami?" There was a strangely satisfied note in his voice that made Joey want to finish what Yami had started. "I want you to know that I fully intend to press charges."

Yami's laugh surprised them all. It was just one short, bitter bark of laughter, quickly stifled. He straightened and directed a look at Seto that wiped the smirk off his face. "You can't. I'm not an officer."

"What?" Seto demanded. He sounded as if he thought this was something Yami had arranged just to annoy him.

"Yami? What are you talkin' about?" Joey just sounded confused.

"I've been…" Yami hesitated, then shook his head. He gave another strangled laugh. He pushed away from Joey and backed away, still shaking his head. "I'm just a civilian. And I'm not wanted around here."

"Wait! Yami, I--"

"Just leave me alone, Joey," Yami said. He turned and strode toward the nearby bank of elevators where an armed MP waited to escort him off the station. "I just want everyone to leave me alone."

"Coward."

That was Seto. Yami's shoulders tensed and he hesitated. Then he forced himself to keep walking, to let Seto have the last word. What did it matter if his cousin thought him a coward, a traitor? Soon, Yami knew, Seto wouldn't be the only one. With a sinking heart and a thousand confusing thoughts echoing in his head, Yami got onto the elevator. He never even noticed the skin around Joey's eye starting to purple… or the dark calculation in Seto's eyes.

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The pilot debriefing had taken longer than usual and, for Seto, had been followed by a thorough examination in Medical. Under his piercing stare, the doctor had hastened things along, declaring Seto fit to fly as soon as he passed the integration test with his mech. That, Seto knew, would have to await the completion of the repairs which had begun the instant the recovery crew had towed the mech back to the station. Several of Blue-Eyes' critical systems had been badly damaged in the battle. Even with crews working around the clock, it would be many more hours, if not days, before the Blue-Eyes was back in full fighting trim. In the interim, Seto would be relegated to desk duty.

With that unhappy fact foremost in his thoughts, Seto made his way down several levels from the medical ring to the echoing maintenance hangar where the Duel Mecha rested between patrols. He had no real business there; he simply needed to see with his own eyes that his Dragon was being well-cared for. When the lift doors opened, he stepped out into the floodlit chamber and paused, drinking in the sight of his shining Dragon across the way.

All around him, the hangar bay rang with the clatter of metal on metal and the thrum of heavy machinery. Human voices overlapped with mechanical, providing a steady background accompaniment to the squeal of rubber tires on steel flooring, the buzz of power tools, the hiss of pneumatics and the hum of servos. He stood for a moment longer and let the noise and the heavy smells of machinery, lubricating oils and fuels wash over him. But he had eyes only for his mech. As he watched, technicians swarmed over its outer hull, working their techno-magic to bring Blue-Eyes back to him. Though it was almost painful to see his Dragon in such a state, at the same time he drew comfort from being here, watching it come back to life. Outside of his cockpit, this was the one place Seto felt most at home -- here, near his Blue-Eyes. Not even Mokuba could give him the sense of peace Seto achieved when he was one with his mech.

So distracted was he by his reverie that Seto wasn't aware of the technicians working around him as anything more than part of the background. Until, that is, one of them spoke to him.

"Captain Kaiba, a moment of your time."

Seto turned to see one of the mech technicians trying to get his attention. The woman almost ran the last few steps up to him when he paused impatiently.

"What is it? I'm busy," Seto stated. His flat tone and expressionless face did nothing to encourage idle chatter. If the tech had something of import to say, he would listen. But he would not tolerate time-wasting small talk and everyone who worked in the mech bay knew it. He doubted the tech would have dared to approach him about some minor hold-up in the repairs, but he could not imagine what the problem might be.

"It's the Blue-Eyes," the tech began, hesitantly. She was clutching an oversized datalink to her chest, as if using the portable computer as a shield, and hugged it closer as she spoke.

"The status board shows that repairs are progressing on schedule. Unless incorrect information was entered into the system, that's all I need to know."

She shook her head. "The repairs to the armor are nearly complete, and there's a team working exclusively on the electronics. From a purely mechanical stand-point, Blue-Eyes could be up and running in another twenty-four hours. However, I'm afraid that your mech's AI doesn't trust you as much as it did before."

Seto stared down at the obviously insane tech. Blue-Eyes -- trusting him? He resisted the urge to throw back his head and laugh at the absurdity of her statement. If he hadn't known that Yami had left the station (and under guard, no less), he would have thought it a joke instigated by his cousin simply to annoy him.

Seeing the doubt that flashed immediately into his eyes, the tech changed her tactics.

"Fine. Think I'm crazy all you want, Captain Kaiba," she began. "But if your gestalt slips or, heaven forbid, breaks apart completely because the AI balks when you want to send Blue-Eyes into a difficult battle, or perform one of your brilliant but reckless maneuvers, don't expect my team to reassemble the pieces again. That would be a mech catastrophe that would make what happened to Dark Magician look like a minor malfunction!"

Glaring into Seto's eyes for a moment longer, the tech turned on her heel and strode angrily back across the hangar bay.

Daft woman, Seto thought to himself as he continued on his way. Just before she turned, he thought he'd seen tears. He shook his head. Must be his day for imagining things. But he couldn't stop himself from giving the Blue-Eyes White Dragon a last, lingering look as he turned back to the elevator. The Blue-Eyes…trusting him? Could it be…?