Yes, I could not resist. I could not resist.
I had a bit of fun with this chapter. There's a reason why Waltfeld is a tad more into conspiracy theories this time. It all ties back into the one, solitary change that caused this to be a Gundam SEED AU. Let's put it this way, the change is all "for want of a nail" or "the butterfly effect", whichever one you want to pick, and that has caused mild background changes that will become more and more obvious as we progress. For example, Natarle Badgiruel having a special-forces background, or why Waltfeld goes into more detail on the fossil and Earth's past. It all ties into this solo change. I hope you guys enjoy it when it finally gets to that point.
EDIT: I fixed what a "Guest" had said about Mars being colonized or not. I willfully admit that I have not read any of the "Astray" manga lines, and I look at the official timeline and glossary when info not present in SEED is needed. I have gotten some details wrong because of this but I did fix it.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Eye of the Tiger
It was the most peculiar thing to see Murrue Ramius in street clothes. I was shocked we even had street clothes on board, though I guess we had some left over from the Orb civilians that by now were close to indistinguishable from the rest of the actual military personnel. No, they wereindistinguishable. They all had military ranks at this point, just like everyone else. We were all soldiers.
Murrue seemed almost embarrassed when she saw me. "I haven't seen you wear those clothes since Heliopolis."
I was wearing the exact same outfit I had worn that fateful day. I hadn't even thought of that. "You want me to go get changed real fast?"
Murrue sighed. "No. We need to get outside and into one of Ashman's jeeps. His representative will be Ahmed."
"Ahmed?" I was shocked. The teenage boy, of all people? Why would Ashman put a kid at risk?
"Yes, I was surprised too," Murrue replied. "But it makes sense. No one could have survived Tassil if what I was told about it was true unless they were a serious fighter. I bet Ashman is thinking that Ahmed will look nonthreatening and unassuming to Waltfeld, so if Waltfeld pulls something, Ahmed will make him pay."
I hadn't thought of that. "I think that makes sense, that is, if Ahmed truly is a serious fighter."
"Let's hope so. We're both sticking our necks out here, seriously," Murrue says.
"I agree, and I think this is really risky," Kira's voice said from behind me.
I turned around. "Oh. Hi."
Kira sighed. "Both of you are not expendable in my opinion. I don't see why you need to travel all the way out to Banadiya and risk yourselves for a prisoner swap. Hilda has gathered valuable information about this ship. She knows I'm on it. I am sure that ZAFT has to know I'm onboard by this point anyway but in the off chance they don't we could have a major diplomatic incident."
"I actually have no plans on giving Hilda up," Murrue says.
Kira's eyes widened. "Really?"
"I am hoping to gather intelligence on Waltfeld. I am sure he wants to do the same with me and Ensign Yamato. Unless Waltfeld gives me a really favorable prisoner deal, which is a possibility, I intend on returning to the Archangel with Hilda and her knowledge well away from ZAFT."
I was shocked by Murrue's admission. "I've never seen you so devious before," I said.
Murrue chuckled. "I don't know how successful any intelligence gathering could be, but it's worth a shot. It depends how good my negotiation skills are . . . and yours."
"Mine?" I asked.
"You area political science major, correct?"
Oh boy. "Yes, but I haven't used those skills this entire time."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. For example, you knocking out two of Garcia's teeth on Artemis."
I am sure Murrue intended to be funny, but being reminded of that just made me think about me letting Nicol go by to destroy the base. And considering that I did not laugh, or even smile, at that comment, Murrue quickly realized she had trod on dark ground.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be joking about those things, even in a graveyard way."
"You're right," I replied. "I'm not who I once was. I remember provoking Yzak Joule and the other pilots I faced by taunting them. If I had never crashed in Tassil, who knows? Maybe I'd find it funny. But I don't. I can't."
It was the closest I had come to talking about Tassil to anybody. "I killed people in Tassil, Murrue. Killed with a gun. I spent the whole time running and hiding in fear. I can't get it out of my mind, Murrue."
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Kira. "It's all right, Cagalli. You can talk about it with us."
I wanted to. So badly. But I knew I couldn't. "No. It has to wait until I come back. If I talk about it now I'll just fall apart. I can tell."
Murrue smiles at me gently. "I understand. C'mon, Ahmed is waiting at the jeep for us, he'll be driving us into town. Hilda is being transported by other Desert Dawn members who will keep an eye on her until we are done negotiating."
I was almost looking forward to meeting Waltfeld at this point. "All right. Goodbye, Kira."
Kira nods. "Goodbye. See you soon, all right?"
"I will, Kira," I said, and then I followed Murrue outside to where the jeep was. Ahmed gave me a casual wave, and I managed to wave back, but from the uncomfortable look Ahmed gave me, the smile I tried to show must have looked really fake and weird.
Not good. Not good at all.
It took me right until I was at the jeep before I realized something important.
I had never said goodbye to Tolle.
"Is something wrong, Cagalli? Did you forget something?" Murrue asked me as she got into the jeep.
"Yes," I said. "I forgot to say goodbye to someone. Tolle."
"Do you want to?" Murrue asked. "I know he should be up at the bridge right now, but I don't know for sure."
I thought about it. I really did. My heart pounded against my chest, and I realized that even if it risked the entire cease-fire and negotiations that I would regret it if I left without saying goodbye.
"I'll be right back," I managed, and I sprinted back inside the Archangel before Murrue could reply.
The extra fifteen minutes to say goodbye to not just Tolle, but to the rest of my friends and Elle as well, took a big weight off my chest and shoulders as we drove right for the city. It wasn't like anything fancy was said between any of us. But it was something that I needed to do. I could not lose my friends. Not a single one of them. This war was not going to cost me that.
The worrisome part was Sai Argyle's absence from that, he was nowhere to be found. Neither was Flay. That made me dread whether bad things were happening between them, or whether Flay's obsession with the simulator was making Sai depressed and pout everywhere. No matter what the case, it was clear something was wrong.
I couldn't worry about it though. I really couldn't. There was no time to. I had my own problems to worry about. At least I had the back of the jeep to myself so it was easy to get lost in thought.
Ahmed was driving. He seemed remarkably cheerful despite everything. "I wasn't sure what to think about the ceasefire, but Ashman and your Lieutenant-Commander Badgiruel are planning a serious resupply operation. We're talking about getting supplies from the middle of ZAFT territory. We needed those things desperately."
"So you're saying it's a good idea," Murrue replied.
"Hopefully, as long as ZAFT doesn't sneak anybody into the mountains," Ahmed replied.
"What's Banadiya like?" I asked.
"It's mostly escaped the war," Ahmed said. "But if you go down certain streets you'll see that Banadiya did have a taste of it. We're probably not going to go down those streets, though. We're going to worry about just making it to Waltfeld and hope this isn't some sort of elaborate trick."
"So far, it doesn't look like a trick," Murrue replied. "I know Lieutenant-Commander Badgiruel is making things absolutely certain before she leaves, though."
Ahmed sighed. "The Tiger seems to be somewhat honorable unlike the rest of his brethren. Sahib has been tempted to take advantage of that in the past, but he never goes through with it. He is nervous that the Tiger will discard his honorable ways of doing battle if Desert Dawn does something."
"'Something' being what?" I asked.
Ahmed sighed. "Sahib doesn't want our land and our citizens to be completely annihiliated. We've already had Tassil destroyed last week. No more beyond that."
The implications made sense. "Okay," I said. "But what is Desert Dawn's plans once the Tiger is taken out of the war? How will you manage to take control and hold onto it? It's not just ZAFT you'll be fighting. I know the majority of Africa has taken ZAFT's side."
"That is something we'll worry about when the Tiger is eliminated," Ahmed said, his voice firm. "It's that simple."
"I don't know about that," I said. "The war is not going to end because the Tiger is dead. They'll find a replacement for him. The Archangel will be gone."
"We'll do what we've been doing the whole war," Ahmed said. "Fight harder."
Murrue turned to me. "What can I say? The kid's got his objectives."
I could tell she was joking, but it didn't seem very amusing. "I'm just worried about the future once the immediate conflict is over."
"We have to take it one step at a time," Ahmed said. "Can't get ahead of ourselves. If we do we're going to die. The only way to win is to beat the Tiger, then beat any replacement commander that arrives, and keep repeating it all over and over."
It sounded like to me like a recipe for endless war. I couldn't bring myself to say that to Ahmed, though. He had sounded so confident in that moment. Not cocky, either. Just confident in what he was saying. It must have been something Sahib Ashman must have said.
But I couldn't say that to Ahmed. "Well, let's beat the Tiger first and see what happens."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Ahmed said, grinning as he hit the accelerator.
I spent the rest of the trip hoping that Ahmed wouldn't flip the jeep over as we blasted through the desert.
"Mansion" was not the right word to describe the building where we were to meet Waltfeld. "Palace" was a far more accurate description. It looked like something from a long-ago, lost empire from Anno Domini that had nevertheless created something beautiful, lasting, and permanent.
"This is a building left over from the Ottoman Empire era," Ahmed explained. "Suleiman the Magnificent, actually. This was where he housed his African administration."
"That was a long time ago," Murrue said, caught up in awe at the tall, gorgeous temple-like structure that seemed to stand taller than any office building, no matter how tall the office building could possibly be.
"It was," I said. "But when you get down to it, Cosmic Era is young. It's only seventy-one years old. The oldest people on this Earth were still born during Anno Domini."
"There's not many left, and most of them were too young to fight in the Reconstruction War," Ahmed said. "We have one man, an imam, who did fight. He's sickly and borderline senile. Something unleashed in that war caused a massive sickness among those who fought, apparently, and infected them all. The symptoms are weaker in others, though."
"I wonder what infected them," Murrue said softly.
"I don't know. Everything from biological warfare to aliens to killer robots, you name it," Ahmed said.
The mystery of what caused the end of Anno Domini remains a great mystery to this day, and a lot of information regarding it is either lost or sealed away. I have the feeling that the truth is out there but somebody doesn't want us to know. As paranoid as that sounds, it's a fairly mainstream thought. Anyone who does a moderate amount of research into Anno Domini finds fairly consistent records up to the year 2307. Then things get sketchy, scattered, nonsensical, incomplete.
But it's clear something happened.
"Come on," Ahmed said. "Might as well head inside. We know we have Hilda secure. They may not allow me to keep a gun inside, but they didn't say anything about a radio so my friends can't listen in and tell me what's up."
"Smart thinking," Murrue said. "Follow me. I'll lead."
Trying not to feel small and insignificant in front of this small palace/large mansion, I followed Murrue up the stairs and to the front door.
That's when something went wrong.
A shriek from behind. A very familiar shriek. "It's you!"
I spun around to see the same girl who attacked me outside the ruins of Tassil.
There stood Asta Joule, and she was raising her pistol.
No time to react. No time to run. No time to do anything. I was helpless.
But just as she put her pistol in firing position, a woman with orange highlights in her dark hair and a stylish blue dress stepped in front of her, almost out of nowhere, and twisted Asta's right hand until the pistol fell to the ground.
"What's this?" Murrue asked, looking both shocked and confused as she had her own pistol out.
Asta was moaning in pain. "Aisha! Stop it! Stop it now! She has to die!"
"We are notbreaking the cease-fire deal, Asta!" the woman replied.
"She killed my brother! She has to die! She has to-" All of a sudden, Asta began to cough into her left hand.
It sounded sick. Gooey. Like something seriously gross and substantial was behind it. The woman Asta had called "Aisha" backed away, as Asta covered her mouth as the violent coughs continued. Aisha stepped back, picked up the pistol, and nonchalantly ejected the clip and the bullet in the chamber as if it was a toy.
Finally, Asta's coughing fit ended, and she stared at her left hand for just a split second, before looking at Aisha. "Damn you, Aisha."
"This is why the general has not redeployed you on another mission," Aisha said. "Now, return to base. Immediately. Don't make me tell the general."
Asta glared at her, and glared at me. If looks would kill, I'd be hit with the force of a nuclear explosion. She was that enraged.
At the risk of speaking the obvious, negotiations with her weren't going to go anywhere.
Asta gave me a long, hard look. "You're dead, Cagalli Yamato. You just don't know it yet. You hear me? You're never getting out of this desert!"
"I can't wait to prove you wrong," I snapped back.
Asta looked ready to move right to starting a fistfight, but the moment she stepped forward, Aisha stepped inbetween her and the three of us. "Don't make me flip you like you made me do yesterday," Aisha said.
Asta scoffed. "You've made the general soft and that'll get you both killed."
Aisha chuckled briefly. "Hon, this is how the general has always been. Live with it."
Asta spun around and stomped away, her long silver hair swishing in the hot breeze. She did flip me off as she walked away. "This isn't over, Yamato! Believe it!"
After Asta crossed the street, and showed no intention of trying to get through Aisha, it was like a collective pressure had evaporated from around us. Even Aisha relaxed, and she sighed as she turned around to face us. "Go ahead, put your gun away, it's over. I'm sorry. She has been a handful, very difficult to keep in line."
Aisha looked mournfully down at her dress. "Unfortunately, I had to stop her, which means the dress I had carefully chosen for today's been ruined. Oh well."
It took me a moment to see that Aisha had torn a gash in her dress. I wondered how far she had to run to stop Asta before she violated the ceasefire . . . and killed me. This woman may have just saved my life.
"I owe you," I managed to say as Aisha walked past us.
"No. Andy owes me," Aisha laughs. "He's the one who wants to see you, after all!"
She paused. "Anyway, I'm Aisha. I'm essentially General Waltfeld's assistant, among other things. I'll guide you to his room where the negotiations take place. I know who you are, Cagalli Yamato. An oddly feminine name for someone who looks so boyish."
This again? I could not keep my teeth from clenching when I replied "My name is feminine because I'm a girl."
"Oh." Aisha blinked. "Awkward. Besides the whole screaming girl nearly killing you thing."
"You think?" I asked in turn.
Aisha sighed and turned to Murrue. "And you are . . .?"
"Captain Murrue Ramius of the Archangel, and I'd appreciate it if your soldiers showed more discipline. I was a couple seconds away from shooting your pilot," Murrue replied as she finally holstered her pistol.
"They all show discipline, besides Asta. I do not understand why we are stuck with her, unless the PLANT Supreme Council has a dark sense of humor," Aisha replied. She looked at Ahmed. "And I assume you are Desert Dawn's representative."
"That's right. I'm Ahmed."
"No last name?"
"I have family who live in occupied territory. You think I'd risk reprisals for my actions?" Ahmed asked.
Aisha sighed. "You think Andy and I far too cruel, though I understand your thought process."
"It's not about you and the Tiger. It's beyond that," Ahmed said.
"Confident little man, huh?" Aisha said, a knowing smile on her face. "I like that."
"I'm sure you would," Ahmed said, and I realized he was being dead serious. He didn't view this as an ordinary conversation. He views her as an enemy one-hundred-percent and doesn't want to waste time with pleasantries. Which is something I personally like. Cut through the bull and get to the point.
Perhaps sensing this, Aisha sighed and walked past us to the entrance and opened the door. "All right, come inside and follow me. Feel free to look around, but don't start wandering. You get lost, you're gonna be a P.O.W., no offense."
"None taken," Murrue replied. "We have no intention of straying from the path."
"That's good," Aisha said, and she began walking through the halls, and I followed her.
"What Asta's story?" I asked.
Aisha sighed. "She's a very sickly girl, though she's good at hiding it. Apparently she wasn't supposed to live past ten, but she's nineteen right now. Just has a weak body and immune system and a hideous cough from what I know."
"And you people let her fly," I replied.
Aisha shrugged. "Not my call. Apparently she passed all of the aptitude and fitness tests and there's nothing wrong with her eyes. I've seen her wash blood from her helmet visor, though. I think that whatever she was supposed to die from is catching up to her."
Now Asta's desperation to kill me was starting to make sense. This was beyond just avenging her brother. Asta was on a time limit. If she didn't kill me soon, she never would, and she would die and I could conceivably live for decades longer. I could imagine just how she felt, seeing a golden opportunity to kill me and having it be taken away by her own side.
"That explains why she wants to kill me so bad," I said.
"You don't know the half of it," Aisha replied. "The girl apparently promised her brother she would live to see him turn eighteen or something. Well, her brother's KIA all of a sudden. I don't like what she's doing, but I can understand it."
Great. Just great. Like I needed to be reminded that Yzak Joule is dead. He would've been dead regardless of destroying the Archangel or not, but I wound up killing him. And here was his sister, aiming to get revenge on me by destroying my machine in war.
So many, many ways she could try to kill me over the next few days. I was going to need to survive her somehow, survive this desert, and set off for home long before Asta Joule got her hands on me.
Aisha just shook her head. "Well, what can you do?"
Apparently, nothing other than killing her too. With thatlovely thought echoing in my mind, we followed her, almost in silence.
We came upon a set of archaic wooden double doors, and Aisha knocked on them. "Andy? Your visitors are here!"
"Send them in! I've prepared kebabs and coffee," the strangely even, perhaps even affable, voice of what had to be Andrew Waltfeld, said from that room.
Aisha opened the doors and waved us inside. "Go on."
"I'll lead," Murrue said. I could see her arm getting somewhat close to that pistol she had. She was ready to shoot at the first sign of a trick. She meant it when she said she was ready to make sure I would get out of here one way or another.
Once I could finally move past Murrue and into the room, I saw a table with three plates and cups situated in front of us. And there, in surprisingly casual clothing, blue jeans and a red shirt with yellow short sleeves, was Andrew Waltfeld. Blue-eyed, brown-haired, undoubtedly handsome in a casual, almost slacker-ish type of way.
I admit it, I found him somewhat attractive.
"Ah, hello there," Waltfeld said, his voice still even and casual. "I assume you are my requested guests? You are Captain Murrue Ramius, correct?"
"Yes," Murrue said. "And you are the famous 'Desert Tiger'."
Waltfeld chuckled. "In the flesh."
He eyed me. "And you are Strike's pilot."
I felt serious deja vu going on. "Yes, I am."
"Your voice has a strange pitch. Sounds just a bit feminine. Not what I'd expect from a young man at all."
This time it was beyond clenched teeth, my fists were completely clenched shut as well. "That's because I am a girl, you dumbass!"
Murrue looked at me like the world was going to end. "Cagalli, please!"
But Waltfeld and Aisha's reactions were not anything normal. Instead, they just stared for a second, and they both started laughing. Uncontrollably. Like all of a sudden I was the most brilliant comedy act in the world.
"What? What's so funny?" I asked.
Waltfeld sighed and managed to get himself under control while Aisha was clutching her sides. "I can't believe it. It's true, just like the rumors say. There isa way to push your buttons."
"Huh?" I asked.
Waltfeld looked surprisingly devious the next second, and I realized that this was the real Desert Tiger. "Showing your weakness to an enemy is a grave mistake, Ensign Yamato. Like you just did right now. Unfortunately, I doubt this specific weakness has any real application on the battlefield, but keep the concept in mind for future reference."
"How?" I asked. "How did you know?"
"Eh, just overheard something Lieutenant Zala said to someone else," Waltfeld said. "You know who he is, isn't you?"
I knew there wasn't any beating around the bush with that one. "Of course. He's okay, then?"
"Had some mild injuries but nothing dehabiliating," Waltfeld said. "I had to help him smooth things over with PLANT, though. I helped him make it seem that his goal was to recover the Strike more than rescue you. It worked, to put it succinctly."
"Wait a minute," Ahmed said, looked shocked. "You know a Coordinator?"
I realized that Ahmed and none of Desert Dawn had to know I was a Coordinator. And before I could reply, Waltfeld said "Kid, this girl, who is likely the only reason why Desert Dawn still exists at this point, is a Coordinator."
Ahmed looked at me, wide-eyed, and just sat down, looking like he was staring into space.
I realized immediately that Waltfeld had trapped us. Desert Dawn's trust in me could easily evaporate once word spread among them that I was a Coordinator. There was no way Ahmed would keep that a secret. If he went to Sahib Ashman first, there was a chance word wouldn't spread, Ashman seemed too practical to distrust me just because of my genetics. But if he went to someone else first? Possible total chaos.
"I will continue to fight for the Archangel," I said. Thoughts were spinning through my head as to how to minimize any damage. "Don't even waste your time trying to get me to defect. It's not happening."
"I'm aware of it. I didn't call you in here because I wanted to encourage a defection," Waltfeld said coolly.
"Oh yeah?" I asked, skeptical.
Waltfeld's eyes lit up, and it was a look I was quickly relating to his image as the Desert Tiger. "I wanted to see you because I wanted to get a good look at you. It's been a long time since a soldier as talented as you are faced my forces. You are my first worthy opponent since I knocked Eurasia out of the African front. That means something."
"I'm a 'worthy opponent', huh?" I asked.
"That's right. And now I have a confirmed way to get under your skin, boy," Waltfeld said, putting just a little bit of mocking venom underneath the last word.
Even when knowing that he was purposefully taunting me, I still had to fight an urge to deck him. But I forced myself to keep the violent emotions down. Not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he and Aisha combined had infuriated me for the third time in about ten minutes.
Murrue, perhaps sensing I was struggling not to blow, intervened. "We are here for business, General. It is time we began talking."
"Yes," Waltfeld said, and he sat down behind the table. "Here. The kebabs are finished, complete with delicious yogurt sauce, along with my special blend of coffee. We can-"
"Can you guarantee they're not drugged?" I asked.
Waltfeld stared.
"Prepare the food again, in front of us. There's no way to tell that the food's been drugged or poisoned or what," I said.
Waltfeld now almost looked like he was pouting. "You don't trust me?"
"You're the enemy, General," I said. "It would be the easiest way to remove Captain Ramius here and I from the war and violate the cease-fire and knock both Dawn and the Archangel out in no time flat. I'm sorry, but my trust level is rather low, all things considering."
Aisha whistled from behind me. "She's got ya there, Andy."
"These are cold times, aren't they?" Waltfeld asked wistfully. He sighed. "Fine. I'll start over again. Happy?"
"Yes," I said. "And I want chili sauce."
"You can't be serious, chili sauce?" Waltfeld asked, his face stricken.
So, I had found a button to push with him too. "Yes. Chili sauce. We're talking the spiciest you got here. Not of that crappy yogurt sauce with me."
"Damn it, you are missing some important taste buds," Waltfeld said, and for a moment, we didn't seem like enemy soldiers. Almost like we were at some party or something.
But it was just for a moment.
But I was shocked that I found myself wishing that the moment could last forever.
Waltfeld dutifully gave his food away to some of his guards, and restarted. It wasn't long, though, before I saw something on one of his shelves. "Isn't that the fossil that George Glenn, the first Coordinator, found all those years ago?"
Waltfeld chuckled. "It is. Proof of alien life. Incredible, isn't it?"
"It is," I said.
Murrue folded her arms. "I have always wondered why the fossil didn't trigger more interplanetary exploration."
Waltfeld shook his head. "It could be for anything. It's said, though, that there's a reason why we haven't gone back to Jupiter. I've been hearing a few things."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Did you know that the GUNDAM you're flying is not the first one ever made?" Waltfeld asked.
"What?" I replied.
"Well, that's one of the rumors. GUNDAMs, or something similar to them, have existed for a long time, or did, anyway. But they vanished. Or were destroyed. During that lost period from before the Reconstruction War or during it, they vanished. But like the cyclical creatures we are, we inevitably rebuilt from our old ideas."
"Those are rumors, theories," Murrue said. "There's a lot of them. They're conspiracy theories at best."
"Are they?" Waltfeld asked, presumably rhetorically. "There's a lot of what happened that we just plain don't know about ourselves anymore, Murrue. But let me ask you this. You know of the Type S2 influenza that broke out years ago, in the wake of George Glenn's assassination, correct?"
"Yes," Murrue said. "A lot of Naturals died. It could only infect Naturals, not Coordinators."
"But the Type S2 was not the first one of its kind. It's a mutant strain that infected Naturals and Naturals alone. There was an earlier influenza, the Type S. Who did the Type S infect?"
"I don't get your point," Murrue replied.
Waltfeld sighed. "Perhaps I am too bored sitting here in this mansion, but I have always wondered from the rumors about the Type S influenza that broke out during and after the Reconstruction War. If the Type S2 could only infect Naturals, who did the Type S infect? Why was the first Coordinator born so soon after the Type S influenza pandemic? And why have we never gone back to Jupiter?"
"You can't be going with the 'aliens' theory again," I said.
"There's rumors that we did come in extraterrestial contact of some kind," Waltfeld said. "And that something happened. That we became an 'innovative society'. But the 'innovative society' all of a sudden ceased to exist, and we slaughtered ourselves in a senseless war that concluded in nuclear warefare. I think that humanity was changing. That there was a precursor to Coordinators, based on this 'innovative society'. But something happened to them . . . perhaps the same thing that happened to this alien race that left this fossil behind on one of Jupiter's moons."
Waltfeld just chuckled. "But it's all theories when you get down to it, I agree."
I couldn't take any more of the gibberish. "Why do you buy into this stuff?"
"Just because I find it interesting doesn't mean I buy into it," Waltfeld said. "But it's fun to think about once in a while. And scary. When you think about it, I'm implying we're all being played like puppeteers right now."
"Well, how about this?" Murrue asked. "How about we get started on the negotiations, and we'll see who's playing whom here. I'm not worried about this theories you're spouting."
"I did not think you would," Waltfeld said. "Fine. Let's get it over with. As long as we have dinner."
Murrue proceeded to do exactly that.
It was over fairly quickly. Thirty people, ten Earth Alliance, twenty Desert Dawn, for Hilda. With the handshake deal, we prepared to depart, but Waltfeld had some parting words . . . and an action.
"You may think that what I said when I was remaking dinner to be wild conspiracy theories," he said. "And that's all they may be. My point was the never-ending cycle of war and destruction. We have already done something calamitous to ourselves, and that much is confirmed. Do we want to do it all over again?"
"You think this war may be as bad as the Reconstruction War?" Murrue asked.
"It potentially could, yes."
Waltfeld then pulled out a gun and aimed it right at Murrue. I nearly did the same but Murrue shouted "Wait!" and I stopped automatically, without thinking.
Waltfeld continued talking. "For example, I could make this war much worse by pulling the trigger right now. It would be following the military creed. Kill the enemy whenever you see him . . . or in this case, her."
There was a brief pause. Waltfeld's grip was strong, there was no sign of any wavering. He had shot and killed people before. There was experience in his eyes and in his stance.
Murrue sounded just a little nervous as she edged slowly in front of me. "But you're not."
"No. Sometimes I wonder if there's a better way," Waltfeld said. "That is my point."
He pulled the gun down. "Get out of here. I will honor my end of the agreement until the cease-fire expires. I have gotten what I aimed to do, and thirty prisoners are now free, and they will be transported to the edge of the location DeCosta spoke to you at. I will see the three of you on the battlefield, and it will be different there. That much I can promise you."
Murrue nodded, in this quick, edgy fashion. "I understand. Come on Cagalli, Ahmed."
"Okay, I said, and I followed her out the door. Ahmed, who had been silent the whole time, just listening, stayed so as he walked out behind us.
He could have taken us prisoner. He could have killed us. He could have done a multitude of things. But he had held up an honorable agreement and it gave us thirty people back on our combined side. He was a strange soldier.
There weren't many like him anymore.
And I had the feeling that there weren't going to be much more like him. Not if his implied prediction of this turning into another Reconstruction War panned out.
But he and his implied predictions were about to die, or I and my friends would die instead.
Given the choice of the known versus the unknown, I will choose the known. That's my friends, that's my GUNDAM, that's the Archangeland every living soul on that ship.
And that meant one thing: that the Desert Tiger was going to have to die.
