Archangel's Amazing Adventures

by CSS Stravag

Mass Crossover fic. Chapter 51 UP! Powerful magic draws the Archangel and the ZAFT Creuset Team into a world of magic and intrigue like nothing imagined by the straight-laced CE residents. Their battles on Cephiro are only the beginning of their nightmarish journey as they give Odysseus a run for his money in the 'bizarre trip home' category...

22. Dawn Of Victory

(Chapter 3, Section 6: Dawn Of Victory)

"Operationally, we have one objective: give their invasion forces a system shock from which they will likely not recover," Natarle begins the main part of the objective briefing. "Tactically, we have two objectives, followed by a third to be executed immediately after the first two. "First, we shall liberate South Figaro by commando infiltration strike. Second, we will engage directly the Imperial fire base that has been erected to service the siege of Doma. Once those two objectives are met, we will proceed north at a high speed to Narshe and mount a defense against the Empire attempting to claim the Esper. Captain?" Natarle offers Murrue the podium.

Murrue quickly reminded herself that this was just another briefing, despite the insanely varied group of personnel in the room. The Briefing room itself was crowded to the point of not even having standing room, due to the fact that there were so many in there already. The compliment of the Archangel was ever-increasing, which made her wonder if it would ever be possible to keep things straight. Murrue silently dreaded the thought that she may not know who was on her ship entirely by dint of having so many people in the ship to begin with.

"The operational concept replies on hitting them hard and fast, and namely taking down their Magitek forces as a priority. Without their Magitek Knights, the enemy has nothing on the Archangel Team, not even a hope of decent defiance. To that end, we will operate in two teams to strike South Figaro and the Imperial Camp to the east of Doma. In South Figaro, we will deploy the Commando Team, Newman, Natarle, and Locke. The assault will be by diver insertion onto the docks prior to nautical sunrise (1), to maintain operational stealth you will conduct your assault at night. Once inside South Figaro you are to proceed to eliminate command assets and armor assets as a priority, then continue with the elimination of enemy forces until the remainder surrenders or flees. Since we have little to no intelligence on the enemy except an estimate force count, you will need to rely on operational judgment when in the field."

"Understood, Captain," the Crazy Cook replies.

"Against the imperial encampment near Doma, again we do not have solid intel on what is there and how to deal with them. We will know closer to op time as to how to deal with them, but for now we shall assume that we will need all of the mobile forces to do this one. Therefore, all pilots will need to be at the ready in three hours. When we begin the battle, ground forces will focus on driving the enemy into a confined area distant from the castle at Doma, and attempt to force a surrender. I don't expect they will, but it is worth an attempt."

"And if they don't surrender?" Commander La Flaga asks.

"Take them down until they are no threat to Doma," she replies steadily.

"Right," Mu replies.

"Once those objectives are completed, the Archangel will return to South Figaro to commence cleanup, recover personnel, then it is northbound to Narshe and a defensive action to keep the Esper safe. This being done, we should be able to keep the Empire from gaining a serious foothold here in the North," Murrue says. "If we keep them pinned south, our options are more open to set the timetable for invading the south at our leisure. And, if we can capture or eliminate most of their invasion forces, the Emperor may just hold his remaining forces close instead of trying to come north any more."

Natarle picks up where the Captain left off: "Again, since we do not have knowledge of what is going on in Narshe, we will have to plan as we go when we get there. Due to our required messy retreat, we may not be viewed as allies when we arrive; Banon thinks he may be able to persuade them otherwise on the ground, though the chance for another bloodbath is arguably very high in any such case. We should be on our guard at that time. Ultimately, we need to make sure that the Esper does not fall into Imperial hands and preferably does not awaken completely. In the case of Narshe, taking down Imperial forces is less of a priority than denying the Esper to them."

"Any Questions?" Captain Ramius asks. There were none. "Very well, all personnel commence an equipment and ship system's check. We begin deployments in three hours. Dismissed."

In due time the only two people remaining in the briefing room were Mu and Murrue.

"Think you're up to it?" Murrue asks.

"I'd ask you the same thing," Mu replies after a moment.

"And that is why?" Murrue asks in a half-accusatory fashion.

"You don't seem like you're completely convinced this is the right thing to do," Mu replies.

Murrue sighs before she pulls a chair loose from the table and sits down in it backwards. It was a full-back chair, so as to provide no view for anyone watching her unorthodox way of sitting down. "I am not convinced, Mu. I don't know what to believe any more. We keep playing these long-ball odds, more or less a game in hopes we're going to get home any more than we survive the next battle. I'm beginning to wonder which of the Fates we pissed off, and what we do to get off their shit-list."

"Well, we don't correct this by doing nothing," Mu replies. "I don't like the odds on Yzak's plan any better than you do. I just don't see any other possible option besides trying it. Unless you have one?" Mu asks.

"No, I don't..." Murrue begins, then stops.

"Trust yourself a little more, Murrue. And trust the crew. It may not look pretty, it may not sound pretty, it may not be pretty, but it may work," Mu says as he stands up. With the obligatory salute, he was on his way out of the room...

...before Murrue stopped him. "Mu?"

"Huh?" Mu replies as he stops just inside the door.

"After the fighting is over, I'd like to talk to you over a cup of coffee."

"Sure," Commander La Flaga replies, already with something of an idea what this was going to be about.

-x-x-x-

"Morning, Commander," the Armory Chief says as Natarle approaches. "I heard what was going down today. I have kits for the whole spec ops teams ready, except you and Locke."

"Locke won't be using one, but I will need one," Natarle says. "Locke doesn't trust guns," Natarle qualifies her explanation after the Chief gives her a questioning look.

"Clear," he replies. "Door's unlocked," he notes after he enters the necessary code into the control panel.

Natarle stepped into the ship's now-extended armory and was immediately assailed with the smell of gun oil, nitro solvent and propellant. For most it was a thoroughly unfamiliar and somewhat sinister smell, but for Natarle it was both a job hazard and something of a welcome change of pace from the scent of the rest of the ship, which alternated between the smell of a machine shop, the inside of an oil drum, and a locker room. Natarle took a moment to calm herself just inside and to the left of the door, before she began planning what she would be likely to need.

Primary weapon...something guaranteed to hammer through imperial infantry armor, she thinks as she moves down the row of the pre-assembled kits awaiting the team. The weapons were divided roughly between the assault rifle in 30-caliber and the Gunther KA-23 Sub-machinegun, the latter of which had solid slug ammo in a larger caliber than the Rorynex. Two of the team would be carrying Light Machine Guns, which used the same ammo as the assault rifle but had a higher firing rate and fed from a box magazine, and one of them would be carrying a recoilless rifle along with a Rorynex SMG. The last two kits in line were the sniper kit that Newman used, including his massive Barret 50-caliber sniper rifle, and a kit for a support laser with the gyroscopic harness. The latter would likely be the clincher if they had to engage any Imperial armor, since it did not take a large amount of abuse to take down Magitek forces.

Natarle settled on the assault rifle, and added a grenade launcher to the forearm. Magazines were already at the ready for deployment, so she picked up a tactical vest and adjusted it down to appropriate size for her smaller frame, then loaded the magazine pouches up. She also grabbed an extra bandoleer for the 40mm grenade launcher and loaded up ten grenades to carry along. Of hand grenades she strapped on some White Phosphorous, some smoke grenades, and two of the standard fragmentation type grenades. To this she added a standard 9mm pistol and a tactical leg holster for it, as well as the left-side tactical leg holster for extra magazines and a pair of grenades (standard fragmentation types, two). Before she moved on she loaded and chambered the pistol, then safed it and holstered.

Her next step was to fit the tactical vest and do the fine adjustments to make sure it was ready for her use. With that done, she slung her assault rifle and fitted the sling to her normal carry position, which would make it a lot easier to use and if necessary transition (2). She knew that after she added the rest of her kit she would feel like a waddling, well-armed duck, but such was the nature of what she had to carry to get the job done reliably. Others would be carrying heavier, Natarle knew, especially the obligatory demolitions team and the heavy weapons personnel.

Given that her 'arsenal' was assembled, then came the non-weapons supplies. Medical kit, entry tool, multi-tool, gas mask, safety glasses, pair of MRE (3), pair of water canteens, emergency energy candy. She did not have the standard combat knife in her kit, since she had the multi-tool for a knife's work and her Saber for larger tasks. The multi-tool and entry tool could be considered to have overlapping tasks, but Natarle preferred carrying the entry tool (a hardened breaker bar basically) for the off-chance that she would have to enter a structure for some reason or another. The rest was basic stuff, and more often than not necessary to their task just as much as the weapons she carried.

With all her gear assembled and readied, she took the vest and holsters off and staged them at the far end of the line, and was out of the weapons locker moments thereafter. "Ready to go, Commander?"

"Everything is set," Natarle replies to the Chief's question. "We'll probably be along to collect our gear in about an hour. Can you have two hard-cases loaded with extra ammo and a third with LAWS rockets? We may need the extra munitions if the enemy wants to get rough with us," Natarle replies.

"Can do, Commander," the Chief replies.

The Commander headed down to the cafeteria for her last meal before the operation, which would be important since the operational planning only accounted for twelve hours between when the team was dropped in the ocean and when the Archangel came back for seconds. Natarle had two MRE packs in her kit, but those may not last long enough if the Archangel was held up overlong at the objective.

Unsurprising to Natarle, the cook and about half of his staff was eating right now, in addition to a good amount of the pilots and the bondsmen. Most came to attention as she passed by their tables, though some were a bit distracted by other events, the holosim projector that was running a holo reprojection of an older movie (Casablanca) or conversations they were mired in. Natarle had long since given up on fretting about such lack of normal military discipline, since the ship as a whole was less military than it was barely organized chaos any more. The crew knew how to get the job done, and they readily got the job done whenever needed, but not always by the book.

Her meal consisted of hamburgers (two, small, with provolone cheese), corn, broccoli, French fries, a cup of diced peaches and a glass of water. Not the best for someone about to go on a commando infiltration assault, but not the worst by a long shot. She found an unoccupied half of a table and grabbed a seat.

A meal consisting of typical ship's food and a consideration of what she would do if she ever got home. If I survive this mad-house and the next several we get into, Natarle tells herself.

-x-x-x-

Kira had watched the Commander come and go, though he had wanted to talk to her, preferably about whatever was bugging her. She may have thought that she was showing a neutral expression, but anyone paying attention knew something was eating her.

"Kira?" Hikaru prompts, but gets no response out of him. Kira was still caught in his analysis loop, trying to figure out what happened to make Natarle look so frustrated and confused.

"What is...going on?" Kira mumbles, very apparently distracted.

"Kira?" Hikaru prompts more forcefully, before she pokes him in the back of his left shoulder.

"Wah!" Kira jumps aside, away from the direction of the poke, and looks at the poking individual in an accusatory fashion—except that it did not last long. "Oh, what's up, Hikaru?"

"Lost in thought?" She asks, completely ignoring the look she received from him.

"Yeah," Kira begins, then goes nowhere with the thought.

"Well, what about?" Hikaru asks as she takes a seat next to him.

"Oh, it's nothing," Kira replies hastily. Even Hikaru could sense the cover-up.

"No way," Hikaru says as she takes a seat on the bench next to him. " 'Nothing' doesn't cause you to sit and stare at a wall, Kira," she notes before poking him in the left shoulder again. "What's going on?"

She's insistent, Kira thinks but does not say. "Well, I was thinking about talking to the Commander, she doesn't seem herself right now. She looked kinda worried," Kira notes.

"Oh, I didn't notice..." Hikaru had just walked by the Commander, but was not paying attention to her in favor of trying to spot Kira. "But...aren't we all kinda feeling like we're lost?"

"Well, sort of," Kira replies. "I mean, sometimes it doesn't matter where you are, you still feel lost," Kira comments.

"How do you mean?" Hikaru asks plaintively.

"I was lost before we even arrived on Cephiro. My home had been destroyed in heavy fighting over the fifth of the Gundams—my former Gundam, the Strike. I can't help but believe that this is the way home, but for some of us there is no point. I have just my parents to return to, no home, nothing like that. Flay has even less to go back to, Sai, Kuzzey, Tolle, Miriallia, they lost their homes and most of their lives when Heliopolis broke apart, no telling how many of the crew are in the same boat."

"And then what?" Hikaru asks. "Give up?"

"Well, no, but what is there to go back to?"

"Your parents, for one. The people around you. The average person you meet anywhere you go. You don't need to go home to anywhere, where you stand is your home, Kira." Kira understood what she was getting at, and Hikaru could tell he did. "Tell you what—"

"Kira Yamato, please report to the hangar immediately," the voice over the intercom sounded a lot like Murdoch, though Kira could guess he was in a less-than-pleasant mood.

"See, Kira? Home is where you're most welcome at, not where you think you should be."

"C'mon, then," Kira says as he stands up and fairly drags Hikaru toward the hangar.

"What? Why?"

"Everyone needs a home, and might as well start looking for one," Kira replies. Hikaru made no protest after that, just followed along and entered the hangar area with Kira.

"Kira, thank God, we got a big problem here," Murdoch says. "The OS for the Warhawk keeps crashing on startup, we can't even get it to dump a log file so we can see what is going on," Murdoch says. "Oh, hey Hikaru," he adds after noticing the shorter Magic Knight behind Kira.

"Okay, got a console?" Kira asks as he begins following Murdoch toward the elevators to the crew catwalks around the bay. In moments they were up at the cockpit level of the Warhawk, which was literally the largest machine in the hangar at present. The cockpit was wide open, but Kira did not enter it; instead, he stopped at the terminals outside the cockpit that were connected to the data ports inside the machine. "Ah, okay, I see what is going on here," Kira says after running several shell commands on the low-level OS in the Warhawk. "Looks like data inputs from the legs are crashing it on startup, are you sure you connected everything down there right?"

"I had Gomer on that, maybe he crossed wires."

"No, this looks like it is dropped bits, leg controllers keep giving spurious returns which are jamming the OS on startup. Check for a bad cable," Kira says as he keeps typing away at the console. Despite standing right next to him and watching his fingers fly, Hikaru could not tell a whit about what he was doing, except he was typing fast enough that Hikaru thought she saw a wisp of smoke coming up from the keyboard.

"Gomer, Schraz, get in the waist access and check the cable harnesses to the cockpit for a bad cable!" Murdoch shouts over the end of the gantry to one of the lower ones.

"Yeah, yeah!" Schraz replies as he puts the TIG welder he was about to use on an armor plate back down. "C'mon, Gomer, quit whackin' off and let's get this done," Schraz was heard to say over the sound of a nearby gantry straining to lift up the barrel and housing of an Ultra AC/5.

"Uh, Kira, what did he mean by that?" Hikaru asks.

"Huh?" Kira replies, having not paid any attention to anything in the past fifteen seconds except the console. "Who?"

"The guy down there," Hikaru points over the edge of the catwalk.

"What'd he say?" Kira replies as he types another fast series of lines on the PC.

"He said something about 'quit whacking off' or something. You know what that means?"

eeeppp, Kira thinks as his hands stop on mid-keystroke. "Uh, Hikaru, you probably don't want me to answer that question, right now at least."

"Hey, kid, how's it coming up there?" Murdoch asks from the next catwalk down.

"Almost through modding an error trap into the OS, give me a minute here," Kira replies. "Hikaru, can we talk after the mission?"

"Sure," she replies. "Need me to help with anything right now?"

"Uh, yeah, climb into the cockpit..." Kira begins the process of walking her through reading and interpreting the error messages. For all her apparent inexperience with technology, she learned very fast.

-x-x-x-

"Commander, you are ready to deploy?"

"Aye, Captain," Natarle replies. "Put us down in the water and we'll handle the rest," Commander Badgiruel replies as she finishes steeling herself for the coming operation. There would be no doubt about this one, they were going in heavily outnumbered, but they would be operating on limiting terrain, in the dark, and with surprise to their advantage. If the enemy had no night-fighting capability, they could in theory clear the whole town out before daybreak and count the bodies in the sunrise light. If the enemy did have night-fighting capability, however, the whole affair could become a lot more violent and likely a no-win scenario unless the team could maximize their use of stealth.

"Roger that. Thirty seconds to water arrival," Captain Ramius replies. "Good luck, Natarle."

"Aye aye, Captain, we'll need it and probably more," Natarle says just before she thumbs off the the vidscreen/intercom combo device.

"Thirty seconds!" The Crazy Cook shouts.

"Thirty seconds!" The remainder of the team shouts back.

The vehicle hatch opens up, the ramp drops into the ocean waters as the ship continued to slow. It did not take long before the ramp was extended to where the team needed it.

"One, go!" Natarle shouts. Immediately, six persons moved forward until they could slide their Zodiac into the water, and themselves climb in. Their electric motor spun up and began propelling them forward and away from the loading dock. "Two, go!" Natarle shouts, and the second team began their exfiltration of the ship in the same fashion. The water curling up the ramp and around the edges looked black, almost sinister in the partial moonlight, which worked to the team's advantage in this case. Since their gear, weapons, boat, and extra munitions boxes were all black, they would be very difficult to see for the enemy, unless they had night vision or thermal vision capabilities. "Three, go!" Natarle shouts as the last team (her included) hauls the boat down the ramp and into the water. A pair of mechanics gave it a final shove into the water, and the third boat sped off to join the other two.

"Team, radio check," Natarle orders.

"Two, check," The Crazy Cook replies.

"Three, check."

"Four, check."

"Five, ready," the baker adds.

"Six, hell yeah," the dishwasher notes.

"Seven, barfing now," stated just before Natarle heard the retching from the second boat

"Eight, clear," the cook's assistant says in a weak tone.

"Nine, not home right now. Please leave a message."

"Ten, good to go."

"Eleven, joining Seven," and the sound of the dueling pukers was beginning to get to Natarle's stomach, especially since the electric motors did not give off enough sound to drown out the retching.

"Twelve, declaring Seven and Eleven to be pussies, over."

"Thirteen reporting, Twelve can kiss Seven's arse, even I'm beginning to get queasy over here," and the said baker sounded a bit lousy himself.

"Fourteen, not amused."

"Sniper is go," Newman notes.

"Locke is ready," Locke replies. He was not wearing the full tactical gear like the rest of the team, but he was wearing a radio to make communications easier for the whole group.

"Team reporting to Control, we are good to go at this time, Archangel is clear," Natarle declares on the ship frequency.

"Team, Control, roger that. Good luck and good hunting, Archangel is over and out," Miriallia declares in response.

"Team, we are thirty minutes out at present velocity, ten minutes until shoreline visual," Natarle estimates as the boats continue onward.

Thirty minutes, inasfar, did not take Natarle long to wait out, even with her system so loaded with adrenaline that had Newman shouted anything she would have jumped. Nevertheless, as the docks they were approaching were not going anywhere physically, arriving at South Figaro was inevitable. All that remained was surviving the operation, really.

At 300 meters, they could see the forms of two persons out on the docks, leaning against some crates, apparently puking off their drunkenness. Natarle figured it rather disgusting, as at least one of them was puking so loud the sound of it was carrying over the waves to where she was.

"Hey, Commander, those look like Imperials to you?" Newman asks.

"They do," Natarle replies. "We get down to 200 meters, Four do them," Natarle orders. The night vision goggles they had also had built-in range finders, which made estimating ranges grossly easy.

"Four, shooting now," the Commando replies after about another minute. They were coming in slow, so their motors and the movement of the boats was slow and quiet. WhopWhopWhop, the sound of the silenced 30-caliber rounds was something akin to hearing fabric flapping in the wind, not the sinister whip-crack of a normal firearm shot, or the louder boom of an arquebus. The one on the left went down in a heap as two of the rounds caught him in the upper back, the third in the neck. As his drinking buddy looked over and down to his downed friend, WhopWhopWhop, he took three in the side of his head and he fell to the ground no better than a sack of potatoes. That much was a relief to Natarle, the standard subsonic 30-caliber rounds were capable of bypassing standard Imperial armor, which was good news. They wouldn't have to resort to high-velocity ammo except at range or if they were blown for stealth purpose.

"Two down," Natarle notes. "Close up and tie off the boats, we have a lot of work to do before the day breaks," Natarle orders. The boats put on a small burst of speed and finished closing up to the docks after a little more than a minute's nervous wait. Nothing else showed up in line of sight to the docks before the soldiers disembarked, which made the task all the much easier...

...except the one that was already there. A soldier was on the ground, face-down in a puddle of his own vomit, and bitching about how he thought the bartender had pissed in his drink. A knife to the back of his neck below the brainstem and above the first vertebrae ended his gastric misery by disconnecting his brain from the rest of his body. The trooper was clinically dead before the heavy weapons team were even properly set up to provide a base of fire for a possible retreat. The rest of the team moved to and took cover in and around the various crates, barrels, and supply mounds around the pier to give them some cover in case an imperial assault came their way.

"Think we can do this?" Locke asks on the unit frequency.

"No doubt, Locke, I've read reports of a pair of mercenaries keeping whole battalions of enemy troops down. There's a lot more of us than two, I don't see why we can't win here," she adds. "Team, Heavy Weps hold here, Sniper hold here, Locke hold here. Silenced weps break down into fire teams and go hunting. And keep your god-damned safeties on, I don't want to explain to the Captain what went wrong," Natarle orders.

"Yes, ma'am," the baker replies. Natarle ended up pairing off with him.

The dock spanned out from the shoreline the city was built on, the waterfront had been reinforced with brick decades past to help keep the buildings that were close to the edge from sliding into the ocean with shoreline erosion. To either side of the docks were inns, taverns, stores, and some family dwellings. Uphill from the shore area were some larger houses that Natarle figured would be the more likely quarters of the Imperial troopers, and one at which she could see four of the Imperial Magitek units hunkered at.

"Sniper reporting, eyes on sentry, north wall, looking away at this time."

"Sniper, you are not clear," Natarle orders, making sure to maintain stealth for now. The longer they could play the game silent, the better. "Five, what is your location?"

"Five reporting from next to the pub, Commander," WhopWhopWhop, "Just did an Imperial commander." WhopWhopWhop, "and his drinking buddy."

"Eyes up, check the north wall of the town. If you can, sniper has reported possible sentries, move to and eliminate hostiles on the wall."

"Five rogers your command," the frequency clears up after a moment.

"Ten reporting, two tangos down at my location. I have a clear LOS to one of these Imperials on the armor, and the loser is asleep."

"Take him down," Natarle orders.

Three seconds elapse. "Tango down. Should I, erm, 'appropriate' his armor?"

"Sure, bring it back to the dock," Natarle orders. After about thirty seconds she could hear the strain of the armor as it clamored its way towards the dock

"God, this thing has movement issues, but if all I had was a sword or pike I would absolutely hate to fight it," Five notes.

"Roger that," Natarle replies. "Ready?" Natarle says to her teammate as she sights up the one awake Magitek pilot in the group of four.

"Do it," the baker says.

WhopWhopWhop, WhopWhopWhop, WhopWhopWhop, WhopWhopWhop, all four of the pilots slumped down over their controls, dead forevermore.

WhopWhopWhop, WhopWhopWhop, the shots came from down the road a block, and Natarle could just barely see the sentries on the north wall had gone down.

"Heavy weapons reporting, I have an enemy column coming down the east entry road, looks like one Magitek and seven Imperial troops."

"Heavy scouts," Natarle replies. "Anyone quiet in the area?"

"Three reporting, I have eyes on, taking the shot." The sound of the shots coming from a full-auto burst and the few yelps of their ranks was rather muffled, hardly enough to disturb the pre-dawn peace of the town. When the townspeople came out to feed their livestock, however, they would find a lot of dead Imperials among them, however, and that would be less than peaceful for a way to start the day.

-x-x-x-

Daylight had broke hours ago over the lands of Doma, the seventh day of siege against the fortress of Doma by the Imperial Army. General Leo was less than pleased with having to besiege an otherwise honorable nation such as Doma, but his orders were clear and he followed his orders unlike the self-gratifying homicidal screwoff Kefka.

Leo took a moment to reflect on his former tenure as a chocobo-riding Knight for the Empire, and how that skill had gone by the wayside with the advent of machine warfare ten years prior. Every day he was alive, he lamented the fact that there was little true honor in his duties any more, it seemed that he was simply destined to be a conqueror for whatever possible motivation the Emperor may have to take over the world. On this there was little information, even for his closest advisors. General Celes had made no mention of why the Emperor was doing this, which meant she did not know, and any answer Kefka may give would be one that Leo would not trust, so...

Finished tying his boots off, Leo shrugged into his heavy mail-sewn overcoat and buttoned it up. The mail inside the layers of heavy fabric was of a Mithiril composite and would stop just about any melee weapon used on him, with the possible exception of the claws on the Magitek units. He had seen the wounds those claws would inflict on anything, including full-barding plate for Chocobo. Such horrendous weapons were hardly necessary in a just Existence in his opinion, yet they were needed for the Empire's goal.

The thought of horrid weapons struck a nerve as Leo was strapping on his sword belt. His force, what was left of it after the very bloody assault on Maranda, was the force still the strongest of the Imperial armies and thus was assigned the toughest of three tasks to be had, namely the siege of Doma. The foes that had decimated his army three times over (4) were the most demonic, horrid forces of war Leo had ever seen, and that included the tales of the Espers from long ago. Prior to that day, he figured the Empire the most technological force of war in the world, after that day he knew he was outgunned by the ship that floated over the ground and he had little doubt that a rematch would completely break the morale of his unit. What was worse, however, was the smaller, flying and ground-walking armors they had that each was five, six times taller than the Magitek systems, and each was capable of annihilating a Magitek armor in a single stroke. The ship had amazing reach, but with the addition of the smaller units it had flexibility and power that Leo could only dream of ever seeing in Magitek form.

Leo finished strapping his sword on, verified the draw angle, and picked up his personal Genji Shield. Unlike normal shields, the Genji Shield was easily capable of blocking magic attacks as readily as it blocked the sword. Kefka had a similar shield, though Celes used a Crystal Shield and preferred to trap magic attacks with her Runic Blade instead of blocking them. Trapped attacks only made her more effective in battle, as the power used for the attack she could redirect into her own spellcraft. Varying ways, varying techniques. Were he not on opposite sides, he would love to ask the crew of that ship whether they were proponents of technology, of magic, or both.

In the morning sunlight, he looked southward toward where the river to Doma was, and sighed. He had little doubt the river downstream was run red with the blood of Imperial Troopers and Doma Knights, but such was the requirements of the battle.

"Sir, Captain Edal's team is returning!" One of the sentries shouts, pointing westward towards Doma. Leo immediately looked to the west, to see what their disposition was. Immediately his heart sank; Captain Edal was not among their ranks, and over half the team did not return from their latest assault on the stronghold.

"Infantryman, come here," Leo orders to one of the troops as they enter the bounds of the camp. "What happened to the Captain? Where are the rest of your unit-mates?"

"General Leo, their Retainer-Knight attacked us. His swordcraft...he killed us one by one, in pairs, on the defensive, even four at a lunge. We couldn't stop him; not even Captain Edal stood to him for more than a minute," the wearied, disheartened trooper replies. "If...he was dead, sir, we could maintain a presence at the walls, but every time we come forward he greets us, and kills almost anyone he faces down. Almost as bad as those metal giants we fought down south, sir," he concludes.

"Understood," Leo says. "You men form up with Captain Vellicht and get some rest. When next we assault the castle today, I will challenge this Retainer-Knight myself," Leo orders to them. "Major Smythe, what forces do we have at the ready?"

"Sir, we have ten units available at this time, plus your guard. The rest are recovering from losses incurred," the Major replies. "Shall I move up MacRuder and Zelse to be ready for a clean opening to the castle?" By which he was implying that Leo would win against Doma's Retainer-Knight without issue. Leo was less than sure of it himself.

"No, MacRuder and Gilline will move up to ready positions. I will approach the castle alone and challenge their Knight."

"Very good, sir," the Major looks to a courier nearby. "Send word to Captains MacRuder and Gilline to be ready for combat within the hour."

"Aye, sir!" the Courier replies before he begins off at a good trot toward the Captain's tents.

"Follow me, Major Smythe, we shall take a look at the situation and see if there is a way we can finesse the battle instead of bringing down the walls of Doma." The General was moving toward the command tents, where copious maps and force reports were available for him to read and review, hoping almost in vain that there was a way to end the siege.

"Aye, sir," the Major replies.

Some feeling, a buried part of his soldier's intuition, made General Leo look to the courier that Major Smythe had dispatched. For a moment he could see the courier, then an object far too fast to see properly slammed into the ground nearby him and let go a hellish explosion far more violent than the explosion of energy released by a destroyed Magitek unit. The body of the courier flew a good hundred yards as Leo watched it, then landed and tumbled as a child's doll would had it been thrown by the child. There was little doubt in the General's mind the soldier was dead.

"Enemies to the East!" Major Smythe shouts, thinking grossly incorrectly someone had acquired Magitek armor with the support missile launchers intact.

"No, Major, not enemies," Leo replies calmly as more explosions rend whole clusters of tens and the personnel inside to shreds.

"The ship! The flying ship! It's crossing the Red Bridge now!" One of the Empire's Templar shouts.

"No! Not them again!" Major Smythe shouts as the ship's tallest point becomes readily visible above the line of tents.

Leo felt this was how it would end for him. His army destroyed, crushed underfoot and under the guns of this wholly demonic technological marvel that had once already killed three of ten of his army while constantly retreating. This time, he did not have enough of the necessary heavy weapons or the air support needed to cause significant damage to the ship. He was defeated, and he knew it.

"May the Gods forgive us our Sins of this life against all who we have sinned," Leo says, expecting he would not live much longer. Despite the ship still being several minutes away and miles of distance apart, he knew they had weapons with reach rivaled by no Magitek weapon, and they needed only stay at distance while firing until nothing remained.

From the rear of the ship, flaming streaks of very large missiles, each missile visibly larger than a Magitek armor itself, ejected from silos and streaked forward of the ship, just as part of the front of the ship on either side of the bow opened up. The missiles he could understand, but why they had such large ports on the front of the ship baffled him for a moment. It did not last long, as the large blue ground machine had jumped clear of the opening and landed a mile outside the eastern edge of the camp. The maroon machine that could fly was next, launched clear from the right side and landed relatively the same distance away. The two were not overlong in beginning their fire, the weapons that had so terrified his units weeks prior now turned on them once again.

More units came from the machine, the green giant that could kill whole swaths of Magitek in a single stroke, followed by the other maroon machine, the one that appeared to be land-bound but carried plenty of firepower of its own right was next. From the ship, four emerald beams chopped through seven Magitek units that were shelling the enemy ship from afar and not even damaging it.

"General, what are you doing! Get out of here, sir!" one of the Templar shouts.

"Get the forces away from here," Leo orders in a half-daze. "Get everyone south, toward Barren Falls. Get them away from here, they aren't trying to kill us all, they are trying to break the siege," Leo says. "Go, get everyone to the south, quickly! I will try to stall them at the negotiating table," Leo orders.

"Aye, sir!" the Templar retorts before he begins issuing orders to some of the troopers to spread the word. Already the personnel were leaning in that direction, the enemy machines were flanking the base to the north and the main missile fire was coming in from the north as well.

Leo watched as the four machines on the ground were augmented by a massive, box-like machine that moved slow but carried incredible weapons, and another one that looked precariously like a bird when viewed dead on. He had not thus far seen the three massive flying machines, the ones that were red, blue, green, and fought primarily with massive swords, though he imagined such a massive ship was capable of carrying that and far more. After another launch of a strangely smaller machine with beam cannons for arms, he was not surprised to see the green sword-machine launched and hit the ground after a massive backstroke of its avian wings.

The General sighed. They would take their time, clearing out the north of the tent city as the troops fled south. That is what he wanted, though he like most in Existence abhorred waiting.

-x-x-x-

The coming of dawn had been a surreal shock to most of Figaro, to find dozens of dead bodies all over the place, all of them Imperial, callously, effortlessly, silently killed while they roamed the streets at night, slept in their Magitek units, guarded the wall to the north, screened the entrances to town.

As the sleeping Imperials came to life and began finding their comrades dead, they tried running. Tried, and failed. Those that tried to flee were mercilessly cut down by the commando team with their ranged weapons. Daylight was upon them, and two of the Commandos had taken their Magitek units to the wall walkway, to defend against the inevitable Imperial counterattack. The Heavy Weapons teams had set up on the east and west entrances to the town proper, awaiting the flood of personnel they would have to mow down with their machine guns and support laser. Newman had set up on the wall to pick off important targets before they could even get into range of the town wall.

Natarle and the baker entered the house of the mayor, and found the two Imperial Commanders tied up by the mayor and Locke. "I was wondering where you had disappeared to, Locke," Natarle says.

"Just asking these gents a few questions, Commander," the treasure hunter replies. "They speak of an set of smuggler's tunnels that lead outside the wall and some old rooms under this place," Locke says. "Care to investigate?"

"Might as well, we can place traps in the smuggler tunnels," Natarle replies, meaning explosives to seal them if crossed.

"Follow me," Locke says as he heads for the secret door nearby the main staircase in the house. He had received detailed information on how to open it from the mayor, and within moments had the door opened and was heading down the stairs.

Downstairs in the room, he followed the tunnel roughly southeast until it came to a ladder. They took it up and into the basement of one of the merchants of the town, nearby an old franklin stove. Once out, the kid of the house came to greet them. "Wow, you guys know about the smuggler's tunnels? That's so cool? Who are you?"

"We're with the King," Locke needed not say whose King, since any discussion of the King in this land invariably meant King Edgar. "Mayor says to let us into the underground storage. Password is Rosebud," Locke says.

"Right-o!" the kid replies in a squeal, then moves to the west wall of the house and throws a hidden switch. In moments a secret passage was open, this one of more dusty, cobweb-filled stairs headed down. "Good luck, misters, lady," the kid says as before they enter the sitarcase.

"Thanks, kid," Natarle says as she ducks down the stairs. A landing and a second staircase awaited them, then they hit the floor they were headed amid dozens of bookcases with books that Natarle could only guess what filled their pages.

"Reminds me of spelunking in the caves of old America," the baker says as they approach a long access corridor ahead.

"Indeed," Natarle replies. She had seen the inside of more than one cave in her life, the most recent being when they had to purchase illicit supplies for the Archangel in Banadiya. She did not count the areas where they had found Selesce and Windam, those were more along the lines of temples than caves.

"Door," the baker replies as he puts his rifle sights on it. Natarle followed suit just as the door opened.

"What the—who are you?" the Imperial that came from the door asks in a hostile tone. "Surrender immediately!" he shouts as he draws his sword.

WhopWhopWhop, Natarle's assault rifle spoke for her, the three silenced rounds hammering into his chest plate and punching through with minimal effort. The trooper hit the ground clinically dead, as his cohort jumped clear of the room and attempted to rush Natarle. The baker put paid to that plan, WhopWhopWhop, two in the upper chest and one just below the nose brought his dead body to a skidding stop at the Commander's feet.

The Commander stacked on the now-open door, ready to enter and clear the room of any remaining Imperials. The Baker stacks up and gives her shoulder a squeeze, a clear signal to begin. Natarle drove into the room and went left, as the baker immediately entered and went right. One Imperial was in the room, his sword drawn and shaking in his boots, but since he was standing Natarle held no reserve for him. WhopWhopWhop, his body collapsed straight down and moved naught more.

The main interest of the room was the next thing she saw, and found herself rather disgusted by such conduct from anyone. It was the baker that had the comment to her feelings: "S&M as torture is a bad thing," he says before he takes a rather unprofessional tact with the body of the last Imperial by giving it another three round burst. The sound WhopWhopWhop brought her to rousing as Locke entered.

"No...way, that's General Celes!" Locke says as he approaches the bludgeoned lady in the white jacket and cloak that was chained to the wall of the cell.

"Who...who're you?" she mutters, her jaw likely broken from being face-punched by mail gloves (5).

"We're with King Edgar," Locke replies. "The Returners," he amplifies.

"The Returners! But...I'm an Imperial General," she bemoans, thinking she would be executed for what she was.

"After what your supposed subordinates did to you, were I in your position I'd cut their hearts out and kick them downrange," the baker says with a hint of disgust.

Natarle had approached, her rifle slung so she could use both hands. "Were I in your position, the word 'defection' would come to mind," the Commander says as she takes a quick gander of what injuries she had taken. "After this shit, you want to join the Returners, I don't see them objecting," Natarle says as she uses her multi-tool to release her chains from the wall. With a little struggle she unlatched the wrist locks, which caused her to basically fall free onto the ground.

"She's in a bad way," Locke mutters. "Can you stand?"

"Barely," General Celes replies. "Why did you...?"

"Because I have been the ruthless soldier before, and it just is not necessary," Natarle replies. "C'mon, I have a medic topside that can see to your injuries," Natarle says as she leads the group out of the room.

As they enter the tunnel again, they head left and farther down the tunnels, toward the end of the tunnel that supposedly headed outside the city walls. The tunnel was dusty, strewn with cobwebs and showing that nobody had entered the tunnels in quite a long time. As they advanced they had to switch on barrel-mounted flashlights to see where they were going, which surprised Locke and Celes that they had such powerful lights available attached to their weapons. At the end of the first tunnel they came to a storeroom of old furniture and contrivances, of which Natarle could tell with a cursory inspection it was expensive material.

The Baker was just as impressed as Natarle, apparently: "Jeez, this stuff would go for thousands back home, more maybe?"

"Likely," Natarle replies. "Only problem is, this looks like a dead end, where's the rest of the tunnel?" she asks, looking around with her barrel-mounted flashlight. After a moment she noticed a crease in the wall... "There, that cabinet is mobile," she says, her sight on an old curio hutch and the wall behind it with obvious side-to-side motion scratches on the brick.

"How do we move it?" The Baker asks.

"South Figaro is famous for its secret doors and hidden passages. Something mechanical in the area is the trigger," Locke says as he begins looking around with a torch that Natarle was not sure how he acquired.

"Wait a second..." the baker mumbles. "Something is not right here," he adds after a moment.

"What?" Natarle asks.

"The clocks, they are different somehow," he says. His barrel-mounted flashlight passes over five clocks in the room, one mounted to a wall, four free-standing grandfather clocks.

It was Celes that saw what was different before the others: "The clock in the corner is not working," she notes, having braced on a desk to take some of the strain off her fractured right ankle.

"Ah," Locke says as he approaches the clock. "I don't have a key to turn this one," he says as he pulls open the glass front plate.

"Here," Natarle hands him the multi-tool she brought with. Locke examined it for a moment, unfolded the pliers, and gave the winding mechanism a good twist. Much to their appraisal, the curio cabinet shunted aside noisily to reveal a small personnel door in the side of the wall.

Locke ended up helping Celes down the stairs, due to her multiple injuries she was having problems negotiating inclines. Natarle led off, the barrel-mount flashlight on her assault rifle showing the winding path through the storage tunnels and unused passages. For a minute they traversed the catacomb-like area, heading more eastward than else in an attempt to find the fabled eastern passage under the wall.

"Lights off," Locke orders over the radio. The group stops dead, shuts their lights off, and listens. In the distance, they could hear the sound of moving Imperial body armor, and it appeared they were coming toward or moving parallel to the team.

"Hold here," Natarle orders as she hands off her assault rifle to the baker. As she moved forward toward the flickering light of a torch, she drew the long-unused magic saber that she received in link to Magic Knight Umi, and readied for an ambush two bends away from the rest of the team.

The first of the enemy crossed the corner that Natarle was hiding behind, and she sprang into action. Caught unawares, the torch-carrying enemy did not even have a chance to reach for his sword before Natarle's swing removed his head cleanly at the neck. As the torch fell to the ground Natarle ducked into the hall behind the forward-descending body, her sword low and left from her initial swing, and began her next swing, a backstroke upwards and right. The second swing contacted the still-unawares enemy by way of his right hip, traveling upwards with minimal resistance due to the enchantments accompanying the blade, and finally exited his left shoulder after completely cleaving his torso in half at a strange angle.

The third enemy had enough time to reach for and draw his broadsword, but he made one grave miscalculation in so doing: he was too close to the wall to pull it completely clear, and a matter of three inches of blade remained in the end of the sheath, preventing him from completely drawing. Not that it would have mattered in the end, per se, since Natarle's third stroke came down on the hilt of his sword and once again the enchantments of her blade overpowered the local swordsmithing techniques that held no magic. His sword destroyed, Natarle back-slashed outward from the enemy's left leg and removed his shin at the knee cleanly; the enemy gave a tortured screech as he collapsed to the ground, clenching his now-halved leg and screaming like a banshee. Natarle finished his existence by way of a downstroke that removed his head cleanly at the neck, just as his first comrade had died.

The baker closed up on Natarle after she was heard to have begun vomiting from the ghastly sight of the dead bodies in the torchlight. Something about the nature of seeing such grotesque deaths in waving firelight such as a torch just overpowered her ability control her stomach. On the other hand, finding the exit was no more difficult than waking up the stairs at the end of the hallway that Natarle had done the killing in; the baker was carrying a load of claymores with him, so he set one up on a tripwire to keep anyone else from entering the tunnels and surviving it.

-x-x-x-

Leo just stood and watched. Waited. Watched as the last of his once-glorious army ran southward and away from the massive menace of the machines taller than most sensible fortifications. As he waited, he observed their movements to be not dissimilar to those of the Magitek formations he had built, trained, as they advanced in line abreast while shooting at basically anything they might consider hostile.

As the sword swinging machines approached, he belatedly remembered to strap on and secure his shield; he figured he would get some use out of it, if for no other reason to delay the inevitable as they mercilessly slaughtered him. Leo was good, good enough to routinely defeat Magitek-armored troopers without resorting to use of Magic, but he maintained no illusions about these machines. They were something so foreign, so much more powerful than Magitek, that there simply was no conventional way to slow them down. Kefka may have the spellcraft to damage one, in Leo's estimate, but Leo knew he did not.

The blue sword machine had taken the lead, violently slashing tents at random, apparently attempting to whip any remaining Imperials into a retreat. "Major, take this," Leo gives the Major his teleport summon beacon. "Use it to go back to the Capital and begin extracting my army from Barren Falls. I will not survive the battle today, but you must defend the Emperor. I do not completely trust Kefka, nor his intentions."

"And General Celes?" the Major asks.

"She is trustworthy, if a bit on the hesitant side. She does not completely understand her own potential, and that is why."

"Ah. Sir, I cannot leave you," he replies.

"Go, now, Major, or I will dispatch you myself," General Leo orders in a frustrated tone.

"Yes, sir," the Major says before he activates the beacon. In a moment he teleported away, just as the blue machine was approaching the common clearing that Leo was standing in.

Leo did something he had not done in a long time, he drew his sword and presented it in classic form to request a duel of one of the enemies. He figured it a gesture wasted on them, their whole rank was as pitiless, ruthless as his had become of late, though with the technological advantages necessary to slaughter Magitek wholesale. Fear was such a foreign emotion to him any more, years of commanding the best had removed the emotion from him more or less, but looking upon the merciless visage of the the green machine that used hand-carried cannons to slaughter infantry and armor by the dozen, he was indeed afraid. Even as a cannon burst of grapeshot-style particulate tore into a dozen of his Templar and left not one intact.

Much to Leo's pleasant surprise, his presence and gesture brought the blue one to a standstill, staring at him. The machine that looked similar to a bird stopped alongside, pointing its vast array of beams and missiles directly at Leo's personage. "What is this freeborn doing?" the voice came from the machine that walked like a bird with the multi-missile packs asks.

"He is requesting a duel," the blue sword machine replies. "I will give him a duel," it says before it kneels down and releases the pilot in a blue light to the ground.

Shock, trepidation; after the light halo disappeared, Leo could clearly tell that the pilot of that machine was a lady in blue armor and carrying a sword, much as the voice of the machine belied moments prior. Part of him considered that an insult; the rest of him considered it fitting that he would challenge a female knight that easily matched General Celes for beauty (despite being far younger) and probably could master magic as well, at a guess. Something about her presence made him feel as if he was in the presence of another magic-user.

The pilot stopped at ten yards, her sword held not in guard yet. "I am Umi Ryuuzaki, Magic Knight to the Rune God Selesce. I accept the challenge as offered," she declares.

"I am General Leo of the First Imperial Army. A pleasure, Lady Knight," he replies as he sets his guard. The Magic Knight set her guard as well, though the sword fighting style she used was unlike any other he had encountered before. Leo had little doubt that the lady would be very capable and extremely dangerous in close, something he was hoping his diamond-shaped Genji Shield would be capable to defend him from.

Leo had scant moments to notice that the other machines had stopped to observe the battle, some of the other pilots dismounting their machines to observe. It was insane, actually, wholly unexpected that he alone stymied their attack by requesting a duel from one of them, he figured. He cracked a slight smile for the realization that he had indeed completed his final objective to the Empire. He had stopped them from completely destroying his army.

The Magic Knight made the first move, a series of light thrusts to test the responsiveness of Leo's guard. The General was not caught unawares, of course, he was expecting her to start by testing instead of trying a full-on assault. Leo made fair to counter this by his own tests, using a series of wide-arc slashes to test how maneuverable the Magic Knight was, and how willing she was to take a hit in the course of the battle. Much to his surprise, she dodged the first, the second, and parried the third with the flat of her blade, driving her right shoulder in against the shield to drive the General away.

Leo staggered a step, caught unaware by her physical attack, and quickly found himself continuing on the defensive as she followed on with a series of lightning thrusts and slashes that kept him moving and guessing where her next effort would be. The Genji Shield took several hits that disconcerted Leo to a significant amount, since the Genji was supposed to be one of the heaviest of the shields and it still was taking damage from her sword. He even had the luxury of seeing her sword punch a discreet hole in the surface of his shield as she tried to thrust into his chest, which did not make him feel any better about his chances of surviving the duel.

It took Leo almost thirty seconds to regain his footing, but when he did he did so at the perfect opportunity. She was operating in close, trying to keep Leo from gaining the advantage of his longer and heavier sword, and she was succeeding in that sense. She made one mistake, however, in that she was using Leo's own shield against the General by using it to partially obscure his view of her. Such a tactic left her open to a stunt she had already pulled on him once, and he capitalized as soon as he could get a decent charge toward her. In an instant the tables were reversed as Leo drove his shield in against her slender body, and the sound was rather untoward as she let fly a surprised yelp on her way backwards and to the ground. She was not able to get to her feet before Leo was to her, and after she sat up she came face to face with the general's sword.

"Wow, that was fast," one of the other pilots says. The guy in question carried what looked like two broadswords linked at the pommel to create one large bladed staff. He also carried what looked like a pistol on his right leg, but General Leo was not entirely sure if it was one or not. The only pistols he had been familiar with were massive, wheel-locked muzzle-loading monsters, this one looked far too small to be one of them.

"I believe this duel is mine," Leo says to the Magic Knight. The reaction she gave to it was less than expected:

Umi flops down into her back, staring up to the partially cloudy midmorning sky. "I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning," she mutters.

General Leo sheaths his sword, confirmed of the fact that she knew she had lost, despite her unorthodox way of declaring so. Not that winning for the General meant a damn here, since he was still surrounded by both war machines and their pilots, all of which were armed. "A hand, Lady Knight?"

Umi did not hesitate one moment in taking the offered hand to pull herself to standing. General Leo interpreted this to mean that she knew he was on the level, a practicing knight and duelist among an army of more-or-less barbarians with technology. "I earned that," she declared. "It was a good fight," she says with a formal bow to the General.

"A pleasure, Lady Knight," the General says as several of the pilots approach.

"Sorry about this, but orders are orders," an elder among the men among the pilots says. "Captain says you are to be detained, so if you will come quietly we can make this as civil as possible," he says.

"Indeed. I am General Leo of the Imperial Armed Forces. There will be a ransom should you return me to the Empire unharmed," Leo says.

"Sorry, ransoming you off does not fit our mission profile, General," the same pilot notes. "By the time we are through, the Empire as you know it shall not exist."

It was Leo's turn for the comment of the day: I should have stayed in bed a week ago, he laments in the confines of his mind.

-x-x-x-

In a hellish twist of fate as far as Natarle was concerned, the counterattack that was so expected that she could feel its fury long before it began...never came. Newman reported seeing the Imperial Base Camp fold tent, pack up, and haul shit away from town as quickly as their armor forces could muster. This made Natarle wary of a possible feint, so she had a team of the assaulters assigned to each of the entrances, just in case the Imperials were trying to sneak in another route. After four hours, even that turned up naught. Everyone was under the assumption that the Imperials would come back to exact vengeance for their fallen. They were both right and wrong at the same time.

It was high noon before anything happened. Thoroughly convinced that the Imperials were gone, the town of South Figaro came alive again, hailing King Edgar and the Commando as heroes and saviors. The attention was not necessarily to their liking, but Natarle went with it on the premise that people had to be grateful to something sometime in their life, and she knew she would have been cheering with them had she been in their position.

A slight security problem had come of their rescue of General Celes. Two of the Commandos had to keep a mob off the General, which was fairly easy enough give the presence of the Imperial HeavyArmors that had been captured during the night. Natarle had quickly discerned the fact that the armors captured were a new model, not something that they had faced before, and breaking them down would give Murdoch's madmen a good chance to understand their machines and tactics while possibly providing for upgrades to the Gundams and Omnimechs. As to the security threat, it became a moot point after the Commandos passed the word around that General Celes had decided to defect, and was now going to assist the Returners in bringing a stop to the Empire and their insane practices.

Natarle had wandered back into the Mayor's house to find somewhere to get out of the sun, as her black uniform was causing her to heat up rapidly. General Celes had been laid up in the parlor of said house, awaiting extraction to the Archangel which was due into port within the hour, so Natarle took a seat nearby the former Imperial General to rest (on the hope that she did not fall asleep).

"Might I ask a question, Commander?" Celes asks.

"Sure," Natarle replies, figuring any stimulus would help keep her awake.

"I know you answered this one prior, but why are you doing this? Really?" She asks plaintively.

Natarle hesitated not one bit with her answer. "We are soldiers from a different world, General Celes. We came here by some form of cosmic accident, and are now neck deep in the war here. Why we are doing this is twofold: one, get rid of an Empire that is trying to consume the world in destruction and by extension us as well, two, to find a way home."

"Oh. What does that have to do with the Empire?" she asks, now curious.

"I can't say, sorry. That is classified, for now," Natarle replies. She did not completely trust General Celes yet, so she did not want to take a chance on a fail scenario like that.

"Oh. I know that routine, sorry Commander."

"Don't apologize, you have a right to ask. Some things I cannot tell, though."

Natarle's communicator beeps. "Go," she replies.

"Commander, surface contact. Frigate, flying the Imperial flag, due south of the harbor at six kilometers and closing. It may mean to make a forced landing, Commander," the Crazy Cook declares. "Oh, shit, it's shelling the shoreline, we have incoming!"

"Oh, shit," Natarle says. They could hear the whistle of the shells incoming as they dropped in, then the ground heaved underfoot to the explosions. "Newman, get your ass down to the harbor and see if you can't do something about that thing!" Natarle orders.

"No need, Commander. I have eyes on the Archangel ten kilometers off its starboard quarter. With guns deployed."

Natarle and Celes looked out the south windows to where the ship was, and were rewarded with a view to a kill. As the enemy frigate fired a second pair of shells, both of which fell short into the bay, a pair of Linear Gun trails terminated in the starboard side of the ship. The two slugs ended up kicking up a rooster trail of water on the far side of the ship for 300 meters, which over-awed General Celes as she knew something of naval weapons and tactics she understood that those were very powerful guns. The Imperial Frigate itself broke apart at the middle, the two halves of the ship sinking rapidly to the cheers of the townspeople who had watched the short and brutal surface action from their houses and the streets.

"Team, sweep the impact areas for needed medical attention. Entry guards, stay on alert, that may have been a precursor to an overland assault."

"Negative, Commander, no activity outside the town at this time," the two scout-sentries reply. "They long gone and not bothering to come back," the dishwasher amplifies.

"East reports clear as well, Commander," the baker adds.

"All clear on the northern front, Commander," Newman says as he looks around to the north with his scope and binoculars.

"God, I am getting paranoid the longer this goes on," Natarle mutters to herself.

"You are not," General Celes replies immediately. "I would do the same were I in that position," she says as she finishes watching the Imperial Frigate sink below the waves. The Archangel had passed over its grave site to attempt to find any survivors, but there had been none. The ship sank too fast for anyone to get off it. "Wait—that is the ship that mauled the First Imperial Army, is it not?"

"It is," Natarle replies. "LCAM-01XA, code-name Archangel. That is our ride, and as it happens our home away from home," Commander Badgiruel notes.

"Oh, I see now how you intend on challenging the whole of the Empire," General Celes interprets. "And I doubt the army would be able to stand up to it any more than they did the first time," she adds for good measure. "I now know who will win this campaign."

"And why do you say that? Plenty can still go wrong between now and when the Imperial Flag comes down over Vector," Natarle retorts.

"And you are capable of planning around any mishaps," General Celes says lightheartedly.

"I don't think I'm as good as you think I am," Commander Badgiruel replies warily.

"No, you just doubt yourself more than I doubted myself," Celes replies.

In due time the Archangel moored to a welcoming crowd of South Figaro, all the more so that their king was on the ship. Word was passed around that units were to be formed up to take the fight to Imperial lands in the south, with the help of the Archangel and the other nations of the north. The Archangel did not remain long, given that the Imperials were operating on a tight schedule and so had the Archangel to do so to stay even with them.

Natarle was the last of the Commandos to board the Archangel, and as she looked back to South Figaro, she could not help but wonder if she was trying the impossible or if they really could win in the end. As soon as she was aboard, the ship slipped its mooring lines and headed out into the sea, where it would gain altitude and begin its trek across the Figaro Mountains, headed for Narshe and the next (hopefully the last) battle in the North.

-x-x-x-

General Leo had been rather reluctant to surrender himself when he knew there would be no negotiation between the party that had captured him and the Empire. However, he could tell that his life would not be used in jeopardy as a negotiating tool, since the first thing he got an hour after being incarcerated across from this strange girl was a varied meal of a large ration and such good cooking that Leo would have sworn it had been prepared by the Emperor's own galley staff. This was not the conduct of a crew that would kill him, thus he eased his mind to a more calmed state secure in the knowledge that he would live to see the end of this war, whatever it may be.

"Trays?" the young lady who had initially relayed the lunches asks as she approaches the two cells.

"Hey, Mir, do you know how long I still have in here?" the lady in the cell across from Leo asks.

"Somewhere over four months, Flay. I'd have to check the logs for an exact amount," 'Mir' replies as she claims the tray from that cell. The view General Leo got from her movements to claim that tray was definitely enough to catch his attention, though as was fitting his life of chivalry he immediately dismissed such thoughts.

As she stands completely up, Leo moved from the bed and took his tray to the small port in the bars to hand it off to her. "Please pass my compliments on the meal to the chef, milady," the General comments.

"I shall," she replies stiffly before stacking the trays and heading out of the cells. Leo was not overlong in retuning to his cot.

The ship was rather unusual, he could tell. It was not designed for water transport, though as had been demonstrated when they announced they were mooring at South Figaro, it could be used in the water. Primarily it flew, making it some form of mobile fortress that had no rival anywhere in the world—even the vaunted Airship in the possession of the wandering gambler, Setzer, was no match for this marvel. Their customs and methods were unusual at best, and they even allowed Leo the dignity of keeping his great overcoat, though after checking it thoroughly for weapons. His sword and shield would be stored and returned to him, he was told by the ship's Captain, a lady of immense beauty and voluptuousness that Leo had no problem imagining had been the soldier de rigeur of the prior battle—ruthless enough to get the job done at Doma, not ruthless enough to kill off his entire unit. Of that, Leo was thankful to no end, even if decorum prevented him from expressing it at this time.

The intercom in the area clicks. "Attention all hands, we are thirty minutes out from Narshe. Final battle checks are to be performed at this time on all weapon systems and machines. Thank you," the reproduction of the Captain's voice was very accurate to how she sounded in close proximity, which still baffled him how they could have such amazing technology.

"I would love to see these places we keep going..." the prisoner across the hall says to the walls around her.

"And why is it that you are incarcerated?" Leo asks offhand.

The prisoner across the way glances at him, then looks back to the ceiling. It was several long moments before she said anything. "I tried killing my boyfriend when he got arrogant with me," she replies.

It did not take Leo long to understand the gist of her comment. A fratricidal lady? I guess not even they have the best personnel. "To what end would killing him serve?"

"Save me the trouble of killing him later, or having someone from Blue Cosmos kill him," she replies. "He's dead anyways, my bad, someone else, doesn't matter."

I see why she was locked up, her callous disregard of that man's life is abhorrent, Leo thinks. She is her own worst enemy as well as a hazard to anyone who challenges her belief, he concludes the thought.

"And why are you in the brig?" she asks after a moment.

Leo almost bristled against the accusatory fashion of the question, but instead decided that replying in kind would only be suitable. "I challenged the ground forces, specifically one of the Magic Knights, and won the duel but lost the overall battle."

All she did was grunt at his response, as if winning and losing made no difference to her. Leo figured that highly uncivil of her as well, though if she had been incarcerated for some time civility would be the least of her skills, if a skill of hers at all.

After that, both lapsed back into silence. Leo still had his heavily-mailed overcoat, he had not been divorced of something that may afford him a few seconds extra to live but wouldn't outright save his arse, which he stared up and down in an examining fashion. The hairlines of cuts and scrapes expertly repaired over the years with tribal citizenry and more recently town garrisons had given him a workout and a small test of his skills, but really not enough of a challenge to speak of. Leo had been off and on caught praying for a challenge of some kind, and he thought he had found one in the Knight-Retainer to Doma, but before that happened his army had been power-crushed as his army had done so to Tzen and Albrook before.

The irony of the matter was not lost on the Imperial General. Leo lived on the expedient that he had been brave enough to challenge their machines to a duel, him on the ground and armed only with sword, and by expedient of one of their pilots accepting and acceding to a fair fight. Were that not the case, Leo would have been long dead long prior to his incarceration. Any one of those machines had more than enough firepower to turn him, his armor, shield and sword into a char mark on the ground. His army fared no better; what had survived the second assault would likely either desert or be rotated into the other armies under General Celes and Lord Kefka. Though Leo had no real special love for either of them, he figured better those forces still trying to defend the Empire, and with their backs to the wall perchance they could find some way to stop the impossible Juggernaut he was incarcerated in.

It was good for a sigh before he laid back onto the cot and tried to get some sleep. If they were now to counter Lord Kefka's assigned assault to capture the Esper, then their use of the ship would be limited by the approaches and terrain of Narshe. You could not use heavy impact weapons or missiles callously in such environs, less one started a rock slide that was more dangerous, damaging than the Imperial forces you tried to combat, he figured.

-x-x-x-

A large guard had been posted at the entrance to Narshe, as Natarle had figured one would be. Despite their conduct in South Figaro and Doma, there would be no solicitude here, and Natarle could sense it. After all, the sight of her team breaking out of Narshe and gunning down a good portion of the guard (as well as their 'pet' mastodon) would be fresh in their minds.

Regardless, her duties were her duties. She approached only armed with her pistol and magic sword; King Edgar with his royal sword; Banon, unarmed; two of the Commandos armed with assault rifles still with silencers attached.

"HALT!" One of them shouts before Natarle could come even with the school outside the walls of Narshe. Three moved forward to meet the approaching team, and by orders the two Commandos dis not try to stop them. Besides, if they wanted to use those pikes they would have to fall back before they could set them and thrust, which theoretically gave the Commandos plenty of time to take them down. "You are not welcome here. Leave immediately."

"Nice," Natarle mutters. "King Edgar?" she asks, indicating him.

King Edgar steps forward; "I am King Edgar Roni Figaro. I am here to speak to your elder and Arvis."

"Like hell," the guard says. "King Edgar doesn't visit this frozen wasteland," he says before taking a swing at the King. The Commando to that side stopped it, but only just barely.

"Chill out, man, we're not here to fight you!" The dishwasher says quickly as he shoves the guard's fist back and away from the King.

"As you did before?" he asks in response. "I remember well your definition of not fighting us! I still have the scar where one of your arquebus hit me in the shoulder!"

"Can we chalk that one up to 'professional obligation'?" the Commando asks in response.

"Then allow me to extend you the same courtesy, Imperial scum!" He says as his hand goes for a knife. Both assault rifles centered on him before he could even attempt a draw, which caused him to hesitate immediately.

"You have that one all wrong. We are not Imperials, we are Returners," Banon replies to the rapidly degenerating conversation at hand.

"Yeah, right, and Figaro is commanded by a great big talking pumpkin. Do not try to fool me, old man, a Returner would not save an Imperial Soldier willingly," the guard says.

"Not unless the Imperial Soldier was being controlled by a slave crown," A man behind the guards says.

"Arvis! What is this bullshit you speak of?" The main guard replies immediately, looking to the older man.

"This is an Imperial Slave Crown. I rescued the soldier from the cave after the Esper destroyed their armors, she was wearing this," he holds up the offending 'crown'. "Vector is the only place these are machined and used, not even the best smiths in Figaro can match them, am I not right King Edgar?"

"Indeed," the King replies.

"Lord Banon, long time," Arvis says as he gives a deferral bow to his immediate superior.

"Indeed, Arvis, a long time but well spent," Banon replies.

"Have you taken leave of your senses, Arvis?" the guard asks as the Elder approaches.

"No, I ordered them to remove the Imperial Knight from Narshe before you captured her," Arvis replies coldly. "Something about her...tells me she is something special, maybe not even of this world," Arvis replies as the Elder approaches. "I tried to stop you from pursuing, but you would not listen to me."

"Indeed, and for it we have them to thank for a dozen dead, as well as most of our guard wolves," the guard replies.

"Inconsequential losses, compared to what approaches," the Elder replies. "No doubt you are here with reason to defend Narshe from an impending Imperial assault, my Lord Edgar," the Elder notes as he approaches, kneels, and kisses the King's ring.

"That is our purpose here," King Edgar replies. "And they, the Archangel Team, are here for the same purpose."

"What obligation do you have to fight here?" the main guard asks Natarle directly, more or less staring her down in an accusatory fashion.

Natarle was getting used to such conduct, and ignored his biased attitude.."Professional, as well as mercenary to the Returners and to King Edgar," Natarle replies in a tone that clearly stated the main guard was full of shit for even thinking about questioning it.

"There is no time to delay, we must ready for the Imperials, they are less than three hours march away from here," King Edgar declares.

Moments later, King Edgar's statement was confirmed by a watch-rider that was riding a large yellow bird in from the south. "My lord Elder, the Imperials approach from the deserts of Figaro! They will be here before midday meal!"

-x-x-x-

Negotiations had been terse and very fast. Operational planning had been just as rapid.

Deploying had been the fastest the team had ever done so. Murrue had been one of the first to realize that the terrain almost completely invalidated the use of the Archangel, even as a fire-support platform. The winds at the altitude the Esper had been taken to, the hills above Narshe, would prevent it from holding stable above the battlefield, which rendered it more or less useless except as an over-large fighter. And, excepting under the lake east of Narshe, there was no place to hide it in all reality. Thus, a full ground team was deployed with heavy weapons to counter the Imperials in the confining terrain of the north mountain slope, with their backs to a chasm and the Esper itself.

The plan was simple: token resistance in Narshe would suck them into the mines, where a controlled detonation would seal their more useless shafts with Imperials in it, thereby taking out part of their forces. Eventually the Imperials would come up to the hills looking for the Esper, and they would walk into a wall of gunfire like no other they had encountered before, and that included their actions against the Archangel and her mobile forces prior. Should problems arise, the Archangel itself would take high-altitude passes at the battlefield, Chandratta using his superior aiming skills to strafe the enemy in a demonic, oversized rendition of a close air support mission. He could not use the heavy guns, like the Gottfrieds or Valiants, since there was far too much chance of those guns causing severe damage to the mountain and killing the ground team inadvertently.

The force that had been deployed was impressive, equal to what Narshe maintained as guards but greater in combat effectiveness. First, the Commando team was on the ground, including the four HeavyArmor frames they had captured. Second, the Ship's Marine Platoons (3 squads to a platoon, seven to a squad) had been deployed in their new gear and heavy weapons, one team with lasers, the other team with machine guns. Third, the pilots were all on the ground, armed with weapons appropriate to their size and skill as well as their own array of arms. Fourth, a goodly ration of the Mechanics, without much to do since the units were all in the hangar, had also deployed with rifles and crowbars, though the Commandos had turned the captured HeavyArmor frames over to them to use. The final touch...

"This terrain is good for our purposes, Captain," Natalya notes audibly as she pulls up the view visor on her Elemental suit. They had captured two full points of them, ten suits total, and had them repaired to Clan specification. Both teams were equipped with the traditional Laser and SRMs combination that made the Elemental such a dreaded weapon even to Omnimechs.

"Your team's field of fire?" Murrue asks

"500 meters, excellent so long as it does not start snowing," Natalya replies, as it had been dropping flurries off and on since the team hiked up to the place where they set up.

A series of hills and valleys across a veritable canyon floor gave the Archangel Team plenty of room to absorb an Imperial attack. The range, 1000 meters from their forward guard positions to the first bend in the path to where they were, gave them excellent range advantage unless they brought portable missile launchers. The downside was the hills here and there blocked visibility off and on, except for those posted as highground shooters, and Murrue had few set up high lest they draw an inordinate amount of fire in such a fashion. The Elementals were distant and in a depression, that way when the enemy crested that hill the Elementals could jump the Magitek and tear them to shreds by hand. It was less than fair but effective, and effective is what Murrue needed. If that Esper awoke, the devastation it could cause before the Archangel could stop it would be massive. If the Archangel could stop it.

"They're coming," Kira notes on the open frequency for the ground action. "I can feel the fight at the gates, the Empire is going to blow it in," Kira says, his eyes closed tight as he focused his mind on the distant battle. "The gate is down, Narshe's troops are falling back to the mines now," Kira adds after thirty seconds.

"Miriallia, can you sense if they are expecting us?" Natarle asks.

"No, they are not—oh, no, Kefka is among them," Miriallia replies immediately.

"They entered the original Esper site," Kira says, still focusing on the distance. After a minute, the whole ground shakes heavily. "First tunnel closed off," he notes. Less than a third of the Imperials that entered that tunnel had been killed, but all of them that had entered were out of the battle effectively. Even if they got out in several hours, they would not be able to help the rest of the team in the real battle.

"Good work, Warrant Officer," Murrue congratulates the Crazy Cook.

"And that was with my left hand," he replies with an obvious smile to voice.

"Great," Athrun comments with sarcasm.

"Enemy team entering general mine shaft six," Kira notes. Mine Shaft nine would be the one that eventually led to where the Archangel Team was holding. Shaft Six was also trapped...after a minute again, when a column of enemy Magitek and troops had entered the shaft, the lead soldier carrying an arquebus tripped over a monowire trap line, one that led 50 meters back the shaft to several pounds of C8 concealed behind a stalagmite with crush-type detonators in each brick. When the explosives went, it caused a massive cave-in that buried half the enemy column and trapped the remainder.

"Kefka is swearing up a storm right now, cursing all of our names to the heavens," Miriallia says. "Especially you, King Edgar, he thinks your demolition teams are responsible for this," Mir notes with an almost-giggle about it. "He also just ran through the guard they captured for sending them down trapped tunnels. Another guard just told them the only tunnel that we didn't trap was tunnels eight and nine," which was partially correct; eight had been trapped, but using claymores instead of C8. They likely would still cause a cave-in, but the purpose of the Claymores was to kill personnel, not damage material or cause cave-ins.

"He just sent a small detachment of troops to enter shaft eight. God, they look like they're ready to crap bricks," Kira says.

"What a good waste of Demolitions," Athrun mutters. "A dozen Claymores kills four enemies."

"Hey, I wasn't expecting them to wise up that quickly," the demolitions expert of the Commando team notes in exasperation. Moments thereafter the claymores were felt to go off, though not as badly as the C8 traps had shook the ground they were hunkered down on. "And still, that is not all the Claymores I deployed," he notes pensively. A couple of the other Commandos had a grim chuckle for that thought.

"Hold on guys, looks like they're coming through Shaft Nine right now," Kira notes. "They should be here in a matter of moments. About a hundred of them, foot, Magitek, and even armored attack dogs."

Indeed, they could hear the rattle of Magitek units approaching up the hillside. It was a haunting sound, listening to the clanging of their actuators echo around the canyons, but the Archangel Team was fast growing into a professional mercenary unit they often worked as, less affected by fear as it was prior to the beginning of their operations in Cephiro. And then there was the reality that they had already hammered flat more than once in battle, using both infantry and mobile weapons.

At a thousand meters, Newman watched as the first of the enemy HeavyArmor entered the canyon area, then immediately stopped as it got a good look at what was arrayed against them. "Cap'n, he's shouting something back the column," Newman notes.

"Let him, we'll see what they do when they get in here," Murrue says. "If they can stack their whole formation in and march on us, we hose them as they come on," Murrue orders. "Otherwise, some of them will escape..." she mutters.

"Right-o, boss lady," the Crazy Cook replies to the implicit order to kill them all and make sure to count the bodies properly.

"Captain, they know we're here," Newman says. "They've begun stringing out in line abreast formation, two ranks deep with a solid wall of HeavyArmor and Magitek forward."

"All right, Newman, call out their range," Natarle orders.

"Uh, Kira, you can't count for shit, kid. There's a whole helluva lot more than a hundred there," Newman notes as more infantry began filing into the second and third ranks.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Newman," the dishwasher replies crassly. "Just tell me when they are in the fire sack and I'll thin their numbers with my 'leeeeetle friends'."

"I take it you mean the glow stick you put behind a rock from them?" Which was also throwing an eerie green glow on the said rock that could not be seen by the Imperials but could be seen clearly by Newman.

"You got it."

"Ten seconds," Newman says. "Sniper requesting permission to engage commanders?" who like their South Figaro counterparts were wearing green armor, making them easy to track in on amongst brown-red armor suits and the various Magitek units.

"Green light after Claymores," Murrue allows.

"Firing now, now, now!" the Commando flipped close the detonation switch on these Claymores, which were set to command detonate instead of trap triggered. Once commanded, the whole line of Claymores down the east side of the pass detonated in chain, filling the air with over 8400 lethal steel fragments headed from northeast to southwest and concentrated mostly on the middle area of the gorge—the lethal 50 meter mark where the mines did their bloodiest work with the best chances of kill probability.

No warning, nothing. The enemy formation was marching uphill toward where the Esper was known to be for a moment, next moment they were skidding downhill on the blood and entrails of their own teammates. Three out of ten of the HeavyArmor units were disabled by the pilots being killed or wounded beyond the capacity to continue the battle; the remainder all took some form of injury and even some mechanical damage as the shrapnel embedded itself in less-protected armor plates and punctured unarmored parts of the various armors. Those that remained uninjured were left to choke on the propellant fumes and scent of the blood of their dead or dying comrades.

"Sniper reporting, they stalled badly."

"Start doing their commanders, Newman," Natarle orders.

WRAM, WRAM, the sound of the unsilenced Barret was not so much the high-pitch crack of a normal rifle as it was a small explosion when heard in the confines of the gorge. A meter-long tongue of flame erupted from his rifle with each shot, which rudely drew attention to him but also belied his range and accuracy to a tee. With each shot, both a single commander and a single solder on the other side fell flat, killed grotesquely by the fifty-caliber slugs blowing through vital parts of their body.

CrackCrackCrackCrack, one of the Commandos had his rifle on four-round burst and loosed a volley at the enemy formation. Simple math put at least two of the slugs in their vicinity, one of them even contacted with a trooper and blew through his upper arm.

And still the enemy trudged uphill toward the Esper. "FOR THE EMPEROR!" They could be heard to shout as they continued to march forward and began a charge up the hill at full running pace, swords and arquebus set and ready to do battle.

WRAM, WRAM, another pair of HeavyArmor units skidded forward to a stop as the pilots died very quickly from the more-than-an-ounce of lead slamming through their bodies. The units were stable when not moving but collapsed forward when in motion, making another decent obstacle for the enemy to cross.

The Mechanics made their presence known next, using the four captured HeavyArmor as laser platforms to punch major holes in the enemy armor. One of the armors even had the heavy beam generator, and two others carried six-silo missile packs that had not been fired prior. The screech of missiles headed downrange was something that gave Natarle chills, though the first volley overshot the target area by a good 300 meters and detonated in the snow. The lasers fared better, being in stationary positions and having enough time to line up the shot they did not miss.

WRAM, WRAM, a HeavyArmor and a Magitek Armor with the heavy beam generator went down, stripped out of service by Newman and his rifle. Immediately he began tracking in on the next two he wanted to do, as they were passing 300 meters to the front line. More of the rifles could get a shot and they began firing on the enemy soldiers.

And still the Imperials continued their march.

The sound of enemy arquebus echoed back up the hill in response to the Archangel Team's guns, those few of the enemy that had such ranged weapons. Most of the rounds missed, as an arquebus ball would be lucky to strike the same time zone at the range they were being fired at, but such things are still subject to the whim of fate. A Mechanic went down, screaming, as a ball struck him in the face. When he hit he stopped moving, and the mechanic next to him checked for signs of life. He then picked up the assault rifle he was carrying as well as that of the downed mechanic and began firing both in a grossly unprofessional dual-wield way (6).

WRAM, WRAM, another pair of HeavyArmor went down, just after they had begun firing their own lasers at the group. They had missed this time, but the next salvo may not miss anyone, so Newman prioritized them. The pilots could not do anything about it, either, since they were exposed and easily shot at.

The ground started rumbling underfoot, which confused Natarle. There were still explosives available to detonate down in the mines, traps had been put on most of the primary shafts, but the rumble was worse than the explosives fired prior. She quickly put such worries aside and braced to begin firing just after one of the support machine guns opened fire on the enemy ranks, which were beginning to look ragged from the rents tore in their line by other fire.

"Enemy at 200 meters, Captain," Newman declares.

"All forces, open fire, fire at will," Captain Ramius orders.

Prior to this, most were holding their fire as per orders, that a few would fire here and there to suck them into the kill zone. Once released, the whole group began firing at any enemy moving at range, between hills, over hills, around boulders.

Natarle herself did not fire. She simply watched as the rest of the team did the job, including the Elementals. Intellectually and by military code she knew she should not give the Elementals the key to basically killing off the ship (their powered armor suits), but in the end she trusted in their ethos and sense of honor. As to how well they fought, she needed only watch as the whole point targeted the remaining Magitek units and Heavy Armor units, and missed very little of their shots. Each SRM was easily capable to fragging the pilot with spall, and the lasers were hard to defeat for the Magitek units, but not for the HeavyArmor. Some form of barrier was interfering with the lasers, preventing hits, though the barrier did not stop the missiles and certainly did not stop the incoming bullets. She kept a mental note of that fact—such a powerful defensive mechanism could prove exceptionally useful for the force, she figured.

The remaining Magitek did their best to fire back, of course. Natarle watched as lasers and missiles, even a heavy beam (Fire) type came back her way from the enemy. A shout to one side, a tortured screech to another, yet as the enemy ranks thinned there was no more. A Marine had taken a laser in the body armor, something that the armor was not completely effective against, and went down hard. Two Mechanics had bought it from the heavy beam, in the case of both the beam literally incinerated their torso, and the beam also slagged down the support machine gun they were using into a sputtering wreck of cooking off ammo and a pile of twisted, malformed metal that almost looked like a Ma Deuce (7). Natarle looked away quickly before her stomach was upset a second time this day.

Natarle could tell that the spell Hikaru used, her Ruby Lightning spell, had a significant morale effect on the enemy. They knew of magic, everyone knew this, and they used a form of it to drive their armors, but even in their own ranks the units that could use the spells of yore were the most revered and the most feared. Thus, the spellcraft and the appearance of magical weapons among the team demoralized what remained of the enemy troops as they sprinted from crag to crag, trying to get closer to the Archangel Team to begin an attack. She could sense more than else they knew it was useless..

The full-force press only lasted thirty seconds. Without a spoken order on either side, the fighting petered out and died off completely, as the Archangel Team ceased firing the remaining enemies began dropping their arms and surrendering. Not one of them approached closer than 150 meters, yet they knew that if they closed any farther they would be dead before they could close to melee ranges.

It was a minute of silent staring at the Imperials over gunsights before anything happened. "Imperial troops, leave this town and mountains immediately, and you will not be fired on any further. There will be no negotiations," Natarle shouts more than loud enough to be heard by them.

There was no immediate movement in their ranks for over a minute. Apparently without prompting, the two remaining Magitek units turned around sharply and began moving back toward the pass they had entered the gorge from. The going on the way out was just as rough for the Magitek as it was coming in, as the terrain was craggy and broken, a good place to build ambushes as the Archangel Team had done to them. The team stood down and watched as the whole enemy rank picked up their weapons and walked away, headed south and ultimately home.

"They have balls," Mu notes as he approaches Captain Ramius while still watching them walk away. "But...they just can't beat us at our own game," he concludes.

"What terrible price victory is," Captain Ramius replies, looking over the dead and the dying of both sides, hers and the enemy.

-x-x-x-

"So, this is the Esper?" Captain Ramius asks hours after the last shot had been fired.

"It is...beautiful...and a bit frightening," Fuu remarks as she observed it from range.

The frozen form had been relocated to its present resting place, remote from the village and easily defensible for just such an attack that had come to Narshe. To get to it, one had to traverse mountain paths, caves, the gorge of death (as it was now being called) and had to cross a canyon on a bridge that Magitek would not have survived the crossing. The resulting location, a mesa high in the hills north of Narshe, was the best-defended location that Murrue could think of, excepting for the legendary Sealed Home of the Espers.

"This is the Esper indeed," Arvis replies. "We cannot tell what kind it is, we know so little about them."

"There are different kinds?" Athrun asks.

"We know little of them, but we do know that there were different kinds of them, each with different skills in the ways of magic. The Gods created each kind of Esper for a specific purpose, though we don't know what those purposes were...or are, nowadays."

"It looks like a massive bird, with a long tail," Umi notes.

"With the body of some form of lizard or dragon," Mu adds. "That is not normal for an Avian," he adds.

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Kira comments, seeing in the ice-distorted frame of the Esper what Mu was saying.

"Could it be released? It looks almost pitiful in there, nothing should be entombed in ice like that," Hikaru says.

"No, to release it would unleash destruction unseen in ages," Arvis replies immediately.

On this, they would have no choice. Their proximity to the Esper had awakened it, and combined with the battle mere meters south of it it had regained all of its consciousness. The beast strained against its prison with both mind and physical form, entombed in the magic ice for over a thousand years it had plenty of time to build rage as it slept, its dreams consumed by hatred for humanity.

An explosion rent the edge of the cliff on which it had been perched, though this was not the intent. The magical fire it used to create the explosion sundered the aged magic ice with ease, the enchantments that bound the Esper weakened from the days of the caster that has so entrapped it. As it unfurled its wings the Esper let out a beautiful and terrible screech like none other heard by mortal man.

"By the founder, it is impressive if nothing else," Natalya says, still enshrouded in her Elemental armor. Looking at the massive form of the Esper, however, she doubted the support laser on her right arm would be of any major use against it.

"Oh, good Gods, it has awakened!" Arvis shouts before turning to run. The warble it loosed was enough to stun him motionless, it was that frightening.

Damnable humans! That you yet live is an insult to all real life in Existence! The voice echoed inside their minds, clearly heard and clearly directed to them. I shall rectify this failing of my brothers a thousand years past. Face me or kneel; death shall see you either way, the Esper declared to them as it landed and perched on the cliff-edge that had been shortened by its abrupt unsealing.

"Like hell I'm gonna give you a freebie, arrogant flying lizard," Athrun says as he takes aim with the assault rifle he had used in the battle earlier in the day.

Then you shall be first, they hear before it braces to warble again. In this warble, one which had a different tone from the prior two, a large lightning bolt struck Athrun directly on the left shoulder and knocked him to the ground skidding. The discharge also affected Natarle, Umi, and even one of the Elementals, as lightning has incredible propensity to jump from one target to another when the intended target is in proximity to other things. As the four thus affected scattered away from where the lightning struck Athrun, all eyes were on the Aegis pilot as he hit the ground and rolled prone, face down. His body convulsed twice, notably, then spasmed several times in a random pattern. Notably, he did not move apparently of his own afterwards.

"Athrun!" Kira was the first to shout.

"Oh, my God, Sir Athrun!" Fuu shouts, as the Aegis pilot had landed mostly at her feet. Fuu was going to bend down to check his pulse, but never got a chance.

And you shall be next, young Mage, the Esper begins, clearly staring into Fuu's eyes at a range of less than five meters. Tell me before I exterminate you, how many of my brethren did you slaughter to infuse yourself with such power? How many did you take pity on before they were killed, or do you consider Espers nothing more than tools to grant yourself power over other humans and Espers?

Oh my God, he thinks I've committed some form of grave massacre because of Windam's power being in me! Fuu squeals inside her own mind. Fuu could think of no way to convince the Esper otherwise; all she could see in the ruby red and unblinking eyes was an imminent death, of not just her but of everyone else witness to its release.

"Leave her alone!" Hikaru shouts as she steps forward, clear of the others. "Ruby Lightning!" Hikaru shouts, taking aim at the center-point of the beast.

The attack struck it clearly, hard, but showed no sign whatsoever of having injured it. Foolish human, your attacks are meaningless. Your weapons are disgraceful, far less than I destroyed a thousand years ago. I will give you credit for heart, but your Existence ends today. Hikaru found herself staring into the ruby eyes next, though rather than choking on the thought of death as her friend had she drew her sword and readied for it.

No, Hikaru will be killed trying to save me...why, we came this far, we saved Cephiro, why is this the end? Fuu rails against the fate she could see, not knowing that what she believed would be was detested by everyone on the mesa with the bloodthirsty Esper.

Only Fuu heard what transpired next. Windam, best you act before a comrade is truly injured. I give you release hence and forevermore, a voice says only inside Fuu's mind, though it sounded distant even to the Magic Knight. Perchance the wizened man that had said so was speaking only to Windam, and she heard an echo of it?

Immediately thereafter, even before Fuu had finished realizing what had been said, her armor flickered bright green, then faded again. This drew the Esper's attention back to Fuu, sparing Hikaru what would have been a pair of claw swipes from none-too-pleasant-appearing claws that the monster had. As she looked down at her armor, wondering what happened, her magic glove surged bright green, the gem giving off a powerful green glow that had everyone's attention and even cast a shadow of the Magic Knight opposite her hand.

A green glowing shell of pure power formed on the cliff edge to which the mesa was bridged, as tall as the Gundams and just as wide. The piercing avian call that emanated from the shell and shattered its physical bound was thrice louder and infinitely more beautiful, stunning to everyone who heard it. As the shards of the shell fell to the ground, Yzzak gasped sharply, recognizing the physical form of the Rune God Windam before it took on the shape of the Rune God that Fuu had used in defense of her friends. The others were not far behind in realizing this was the true form of the Rune God that Fuu was partnered to.

The Rune God furled back its massive wings as it settled its grip down onto the cliff, literally staring across the bridge to the group and specifically the genocidal magical beast. As the group watched, Windam lowered its head to a level closer to where the pilots were, the massive avian neck putting its beak just barely over the edge of the mesa, the emerald gem in its forehead glittering in the afternoon sun.

The angry, stern gaze of the Rune God was naught but fixated on the Esper, and even it knew that it had challenged something far more powerful than it would ever hope to be. Immediately the Esper furled its own wings, released its coiling that it was about to use to strike down Hikaru, and bowed itself to the point that its beak touched the ground. Avian God of another land, why have you become manifest upon this world? It asks in a far more respectful mental tone than which it had declared it wanted to kill every human in the world.

I am become manifest, that you do not repeat the grave errors of the past with senseless slaughter in the present and annihilation in the future you so desperately seek. The wizened, authoritative voice of Windam resounded not simply in the minds of the persons on the mesa but in the minds of everyone for hundreds of kilometers. Those present and those who could hear saw through Windam's massive eyes the Esper, as his thoughts, sight, hearing, scenting were broadcast far and wide to even the most reclusive, the most hateful towards magic. The soldiers before you are not of this world, have had no part in the slaughter of your brethren and comrades. They deserve your enmity no more than I deserve your hostility. In the cold, hard reality that we are now beset, it is these soldiers whose goals are far more just than your way of going about saving your comrades, for they seek to stop those who would continue the slaughter of the Espers, they do not seek annihilation of anyone. If anything, it is you who is the greatest enemy of Existence in these hills, magic beast.

This is insulting! Though you may be a God, you have no right to pass judgment on my actions, when it is you who help the damnable Humans who have—

Hold your tongue, knave! Windam fairly shouts across the telepathic plane, a shout heard almost completely around the world. They have slaughtered nothing! They have defended lives, human, nonhuman, magical, nonmagical, time and time again. They have bled the ground red of many planets in their battles, and even in the hideous void between the stars have they done battle to save those who you do not even acknowledge as being worthy to live! They have calved comrades, on Twycross, in space, here today, in battles that would make even you quake in abject terror. Even have they defended your person from being captured and slaughtered for the essence of your being, to power new and more powerful Magitek units for the Empire. These warriors have lived far better and far, far more honorable than you ever shall, dishonorable knave. You know only how to slaughter, and for that I have only the greatest of pity and loathing.

Loathe, pity me if you will, God from another world. This does not change the fact that I act in response to millennia of slaughter. And I will have the vengeance of the Espers for the actions of the Humans, then and now.

Windam's piercing call was more defiance than his initial, and insanely frightening to any who heard it. More than one of the Archangel Team would come to find themselves in need of a change of shorts afterwards. If it is the slaughter you shall continue, then you start by killing me first, dishonorable monster. Or you disabuse yourself of such notion right here and right now. I do not care which you choose, but you will not leave these hills without doing one of the two.

The Esper recoiled from shock, the thought of challenging a God overwhelming to his sense of Existence. Though an Esper was good, the beast knew he was grossly outclassed by the God across the canyon and would not survive more than a bare handful of moments in such a battle.

Why do you protect them so? The Esper asks simply.

The mass-murderers of your era are long dead and good riddance to such scum, Windam declares coldly. I protect all life, here, upon my home planet, elsewhere, for it is well known that life exists, and to deny this is to deny Existence itself. When you destroy a life as you so wish to do, you are destroying a part of everything and that includes destroying a part of the Espers as well.

There was a silence in between the two, the Magical Beast and the Rune God, for over a minute. I fail to understand this, Rune God, the Esper declares simply. In what fashion does killing the tormentors of the Espers harm us?

All life is interconnected in ways that even we Gods cannot fully understand. Though death is a necessity of life, and is often a necessity in protecting more lives than are killed, it must be used sparingly lest all life be impacted in ways that cannot be restored. And it is entirely possible that one of these so-called tormentors may be the answer to thine torture, the one that sets the Espers free of their imprisonment and cruel fate that you challenge.

I refuse to believe that, the Esper replies immediately.

It is often said that what Human hands build cannot be undone but by human hands. This paradox I have seen time and time again, as those who would challenge and even succeed in annihilating humankind are themselves annihilated shortly thereafter by their own failings, their own lust for blood. Pursuing this course could very well cost your brethren their existence just as readily as you would deny theirs. Windam had backed off his rage fit, and was now speaking more as a wizened deity than as an angered God about ready tio shred the arrogant upstart to pieces.

I disdain this course, yet it is not my place to challenge the wisdom of a God. I disdain this with a heart of venom, rest assured, but I shall relay this warning to the Espers that live on today. What that I could beg the forgiveness of your lordship for my transgressions, yet I have earned no such credence on this day, the Esper replies as it bows again.

Your penance shall be that of siding with Existence, Magical Beast. You shall be called upon to pay unto the world in due time, but for today you shall go free and unharmed. Relay the word to the other Espers upon the planet, and if possible to the Espers who hold their own negative world. The time for a reconciling of past dues is at hand, and whence we Rune Gods call upon you it shall be for the ultimate of reasons.

Understood, Deity of another world, the Esper replies meekly.

You are dismissed. The Esper bows in deference once again, then takes wing and directs itself south by west. In less than a minute it was out of Windam's view. After it was gone, Windam looked back to the group of warriors from the Archangel, though this time its head was held lower, to the point that those who saw with Windam's mind saw only glimpses of those not immediately in front of it. Magic Knights, Warriors of other worlds, citizens of this world, know that it is not only your own voices that cry out for the right to Exist, but all the voices of Existence seek to live for yet another day. It is your duty to live as such, and to defend life, yours, others, when it must be done. Magic Knights, upon your oath to Cephiro and the Archangel that bears you, I challenge thee: dismantle the Empire of hatred, of lust for power that grows in the south of this world. Upon this task shall you make your road towards home, and by this task you shall continue the necessary tasks of life itself. Go now with the grace and honor that has carried you across worlds and sustained you through horrid battles unimaginable by the denizens of this world. Duty, life, home, and honor await you, wherever you shall go.

In a flash of emerald light, Windam was gone.

-x-x-x-

Natarle finished up her report and saved it. It was not hard to do, in the end. Between herself, Umi, Fuu, Captain Ramius, Commander La Flaga, and Kira, they had all remembered what had been said by the Esper and the Rune God to a tee.

'There is no arguing with a Rune God, if a millennia-aged Magic Beast would defer to it then it stands to reason that said Rune God knows its position and knows the way of Existence. Thus we are indeed fated to continue' her final line had read. Prior to this long day, she had believed that they were groping at straws and simply surviving, drifting from one battle to the next. By evening's sunset she knew far better.

Her mind kept coming back to the Esper, and how it had been ready to kill the whole team in one stroke, but instantly afraid of the Rune Gods. This made Natarle wonder what the true differences between Humans, Espers, and Gods really were, and to what purpose each should live their lives. She needed not answer that question for herself, Windam had made it infinitely clear that her place was to save lives, here and elsewhere, but what did that mean for others in Existence? Was there more purpose to life than even religion taught, or was there no purpose to life but to live and be alive? The thought of even trying to answer such questions gave her a headache.

For now, Natarle closed down her system. Someday, she might know the answer, but she was not taking bets on it. She moved to the communication monitor in the stateroom and dialed the code for the medical ward. Immediately the monitor popped on, with the doctor standing there. "Yes, Commander?"

"Athrun?" she asks immediately.

"No change. He's still alive, but he's right on the edge. If you are religious, I suggest prayer, and no shortage of it," he declares.

"I shall, thank you," Natarle replies before she thumbs off the monitor.

On a whim, she decides that she did not yet want to leave the stateroom yet, since she was not at risk of being bothered here. She resumed her seat and folded her hands on the table in front of her. After a moment of consideration, she pulled off the magic glove that linked her to Umi and by extension to Selesce, closed it between the palms of her hands, and began.

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Author's Chapter Afterword:

Three stunning, vicious Imperial defeats. Shall the next campaign be a bust? This I leave up to your imagination, since Kefka is not the type that will accept the possible of defeat with any modicum of grace. He would much rather see the world fried over and depopulated before he took a willing defeat. Such is the way of madmen, ne?

The battle between Leo and Umi, though short, was interesting to write nonetheless. Initially I was going to have Leo lose, but just barely to Umi, but the dice roll wicked and I do adhere to the change of plans they bring. After three decent clashes, Leo rolled a set of boxcars (12 on 2d6) and took the gold. Of course, he technically still lost, per se, but those are mere details in the face of the evolving battle. Most of his army survived the engagement, so they will be seen again.

The commando assault on South Figaro was helluva fun to write. Rarely do I do any battles like that, where a small unit gets in and causes that level of widespread havoc among the enemy, which makes it all the more entertaining for me to write (a rare treat it is). Sometimes doing things on a small scale is preferable to doing the large battles and all that.

Narshe was a beauty. I hated the 'defend the weakling' missions in FF6 because they were unrealistic (I never had problems winning). Long-range support personnel on the highground could have had the Imperials for lunch, but nooo... no such realism in the game. I also enjoyed doing the inter-service rivalry between the Commandos and the Sniper-trained Newman, as in IRL military units there are such little rivalries between branches and units. Always fun to throw in the random needling between teams and all that. I also relish the thought of playing with the Rune Gods, for it is often overlooked that each of the Rune Gods are each their own entity and are subject to having their own whims, goals and desires.

On an IRL note, I am almost through with moving at this time, though for some reason my Sat Internet is fritzing and not entirely cooperative. This does not mean that I will be more frequent in the posting, however, as coming up on 22 August I have a certification test for computer networking. Wish me luck; it may be vendor-neutral, but it is no measure of easy. Expect the next chapter to be delayed, in all honesty. The test takes priority, unfortunately, and I have a lot of study to prepare and do between then and now.

Next to come: with the Empire rudely kicked off the northern continent and the morale of the armies of Figaro and Doma surged, the Returners go about assembling the necessary army to take the war all the way to Gestahl's throne room. Of course, the Archangel Team is going to be arse-deep in sorting out the negotiations, so...

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Review Replies:

Six reviews as well as one honorable mention. Thank you all!

Knives91: Terra will indeed get her humored events, rest assured.

DeathZealot: There will be issues with Kira piloting for some time to come, comrade. Rest assured he does not like the Warhawk but he is piloting it at this time...

chm01: I have not seen all of the Rayearth movie, yet, but that is an interesting fact. I'll keep an eye for it, see where it goes and if it may have an interesting impact.

Maddery: Most of the FF6 cast will show, but not all. Who, however, shall be classified for now; I try to spoil as little as possible.

Etienneofthewestwind: Rest assured the kitchen crew shall only get stranger after this, trust me.

Evil Manic (Anon): Such crossovers are very real possibilities, comrade, but as to where they go I list that as classified. They will be somewhere, someday, and with very cataclysmic results along the whole path :P

Also, I should note some honorable mention to Strata-Assassin, who has begun a full read and review on the story. She is also an author in her own right, and her story Weapon's Waltz is a good read for those of you with a strong stomach. It mixes classic Gundam SEED with Tom Clancy-esque covert operations and all the fury of the escalating war. I highly recommend it.

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The Gripe Sheet:

One outstanding correction from the last chapter. Maddery reports that I declared Fuu's hair to be green, which it is blond in all the MKR artwork I have. Thank you for noticing this.

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Footnotes:

(1): Nautical Sunrise is that time period between when you can see the beginnings of light and when the sun first crests the horizon. Nautical Sunrise is just as bad for ships and stealth operations as full sunrise is.

(2): Transition in this case is a tactical term meaning switch from your presently readied weapon to another weapon, be it a secondary, an attachment, a breaching weapon, or a single-use (grenade) weapon.

(3): Meals Ready to Eat, a food product that is not all that bad in practice. I have had MREs before, they are good but a bit expensive. Still and all, if you want a food product for emergency situations, this is a good one to have.

(4): Decimate does NOT mean to cripple a force by severely damaging it with over half casualties or similar. Decimate means to kill ten percent of a unit, or one out of every ten soldiers. To decmate a unit three times over means to kill three out of every ten soldiers.

(5): This refers to gloves of chain mail, not quite the armored gauntlets of knight's (plate) armor, but not something easily cut through by any right.

(6): Dual wield may be popular in video games, but it is impossible to use properly IRL. I have video of me demonstrating why Dual Wield does not work IRL, dual wield with paired .357 Magnums, I need to chop it up and post it on YouTube. Stay tuned for more intel on this. (I also have some kickass video of me using a pump-action shotgun fast-fire and some standard .357 work, as well as .45 Auto)

(7): Ma Deuce is the nickname for the M2 Heavy Machine Gun. Fires the same rifle round as the Barret .50 Caliber that Newman uses, but is automatic and very accurate. Carlos Hathcock used a Ma Deuce with a scope to get the world's longest-range sniper kill in Vietnam at over a mile.