Episode 9: Sinister Happenings
The year is After Colony 205. Mars has destroyed the Preventer cruiser fleet, drastically altering the balance of power. On Earth, the Preventer Corps scrambles to produce a sufficient number of MS for defense. War seems inevitable, and hopes for peace are all but gone…
Rocketing past the Medusas, Zhacque went into a high-g reversal barrel-roll maneuver, resulting in his beam sabre slicing through three of the Medusa's defensors. Pulling out of the roll, he made a quick stab to destroy the fourth defensor and followed it up with a slash through the Medusa's midsection. Whirling around to take another set of defensors, he called to his squad, "Forget herding toward First, just take them out," as he destroyed another Medusa by making a vertical slash. "Don't be afraid to enter close combat either," he continued, locking beam blades with a third Medusa, "their beam bayonets are too unwieldy to be effective against our sabres." Zhacque then proceeded to illustrate this by lopping off the Medusa's arm at the elbow before stabbing it through the torso section. Looking around, he saw that Phinney and Breton had dispatched their opponents as well. "Good work," he said to them. "We'll go collect First Squad and return to base, then."
"So, Master Quatre, how do you think the negotiations will go?" Rasid asked. As always when Quatre was on any sort of mission, the Maguanacs had invited themselves along.
"I don't know, Rasid. Hopefully, they'll be willing to listen to what I have to say, but other than that," Quatre shrugged, "I really don't know."
"Don't worry so much about it," Ahmad put in. "Everything'll work out just fine."
"I certainly hope so," Quatre said, and the shuttle sped off toward Mars, shrinking to no more than another star in the inky blackness of space.
In his European mansion, William Preston was having a meeting with people who were ruling members of the terrorist cult organization, the Black Death. Unbeknownst to the government, William Preston had long had ties to the secretive cult. Unlike the people with whom he was meeting, however, he paid only lip service to the dogmas of the Black Death; his true goal was power. Had Preston been elected, the Black Death would have become his secret weapon, with which he could silence his political foes. As it was, he was sitting here, shrouded in a dark cloak, and listening to his triumph creep ever closer.
"So, my brothers, the time to reveal ourselves draws near. The conflict between Mars and Earth will distract both from discovering us until it is too late, and we will be able to bring true peace to all humanity at last," one of the councilors was saying.
"But what of Darlian's scheme to resolve the matter before open war is declared? Not only will it rob us of the necessary freedom to act, it will focus Preventer attention on rooting out terrorists even more intently. We must sabotage the negotiations," Preston said.
"Indeed, we must. But how is the best way?" council member #2 asked.
"We should send the Earth delegate to true peace, thus making Earth perceive Mars as war-hungry and helping the war get started," the first councilor said.
"But how do we give him true peace?" Preston wondered aloud. "Do we send assassins? Use Viginti and his pirates? What tool is needed for this task?"
"We will wipe the mind of the Martian negotiator and turn him into our weapon. Whether he fails or succeeds, he will have peace," the third councilor said. There were murmurs of agreement from the other three.
"It is decided, then," Preston stood up. "The task shall be done thusly. This meeting serves no further purpose; let us depart."
One by one, the others rose and left the room, each uttering as they exited the sacred philosophy of the Black Death cult:
"The only True Peace is Death."
Roche looked up as a young corporal entered the pilots' lounge, where he and the pilots of the training squadron were spending some free time.
"Yes?" he said.
"You're Captain Nattono, right?" the corporal asked.
Roche nodded.
"In that case, here." The corporal handed Roche a large manila envelope. "That contains Lady Une's confirmation of your squadron's going active, and her approval of the promotions you requested for your unit," the corporal explained.
"Thank you, Corporal Stover. Be on your way," Roche dismissed the youth, who left promptly. Roche opened the envelope and withdrew the papers and the rank insignias. By this time, all activity among his pilots had ceased. Roche cleared his throat.
"As of ten minutes ago, our squadron, the 'Knights of the Realm,' was declared operational," he said. "Also, there are some promotions. Lieutenant (JG) Kushrenada, come forward."
Mariemaia walked toward him. Handing her an insignia, he said, "You are hereby promoted to full Lieutenant. Chief Warrant Officer Lejeun, your warrant rank is now a junior-grade lieutenant's commission. Ensign Sullivan, you also are now a Lieutenant (JG). Corporal Breton, Sergeant; Private 1st class Phinney, Lance Corporal; and Treadwell, you've been promoted to PFC. Congratulations to all of you."
"Sir," Sullivan said, "what about the losses we took? Are they getting replaced?"
Roche skimmed over the papers again. "Yes," he said. "We're being sent four survivors from one of the squadrons at the battle. Any other questions?" He looked around at them. "Then go get some sleep. It's late."
And indeed it was, so the pilots of Knights of the Realm Squadron shuffled off to bed.
Foreign Minister of Mars Trivel watched the shuttle from Earth land, his thoughts moving down a track they had traveled often since he had learned who the peace ambassador was. Quatre Raberba Winner, Trivel thought, the Gundam pilot. What is Darlian saying, if anything? Does she want the negotiations to fail? No, he answered himself, she is a Peacecraft. And Winner supports the ideals of pacifism, even if he considers them impossible to attain. Perhaps he was merely the best man for the job. He was shaken from pursuing these thoughts further by the ambassador in question disembarking from the shuttle.
"Ambassador Winner!" Trivel said. "Welcome to Mars. I am Foreign Minister Trivel and the person you will be negotiating with. I hope we can find a way to resolve this conflict peacefully. Um… who are they?" Trivel had noticed the Maguanacs.
"My friends and… bodyguards," Quatre explained. "Not that I thought you harbored any ill intentions, but they insisted. Now that I think about it, it's not such a bad thing they came. You must surely have pro-war factions here as on Earth."
"Unfortunately, you are correct. But you must be tired from the trip. This car will take you to your lodgings," Trivel indicated a nearby limo. "We can begin the negotiations tomorrow morning."
"Thank you for your consideration," Quatre said, stifling a yawn. "I am a bit tired."
Mariemaia lay awake. "Why did they have to die? Peters, Nadeau, Grey... It was my fault. I should have told them the plan. But that would have taken too long and they would have died anyway. What did I do wrong to make them die?" she wondered aloud to the empty room, tears welling in her eyes. "It wasn't enough for me to be guilty about how I must have made Zhacque feel, now I have to feel guilty about this, too... At least I have the chance to make it up to him somehow, but the others are dead...," she trailed off, the tears coming freely now. "Zhacque... It must've hurt so much, the way I treated him that afternoon, even if he has hidden it so far... And it was his plan that got them killed..." Suddenly, her eyes and tone grew angry, "No, don't even go there, girl! Yeah, it was his plan, all right, and if he hadn't gotten it, we'd probably all be dead." Some irrational part of her wanted to shift the blame to someone else, and no matter how she tried to deny it, the blame always zeroed in on Zhacque. "Still," Mariemaia told herself sternly, sitting up and wiping away her tears, "I shouldn't let this interfere with how I act. My father never did, and neither will I."
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Roche asked Lady Une. He had come asking permission to lead a hit-&-run strike on Mars, to try and rescue Aretha, permission which Lady Une refused to give.
"I mean, no," Lady Une said flatly. "That would completely derail the negotiations that President Darlian has set up. If you would like me to, I can ask Ambassador Winner to see if he can get her returned to us."
"Alright," Roche said, and stalked off grumbling. Lady Une watched him go, then returned to her paperwork.
"Uh, excuse me? Are you guys Knights of the Realm Squadron?" a female corporal asked Mariemaia and the rest of KotR Squadron.
"Yep," Mariemaia said. "You must be our reinforcements."
"I'm Corporal Melissa Rivqin," the corporal introduced herself before introducing the two others who were behind her. "This is Pvt. Katrina Tubarov," she gestured toward a female, "and PFC Pete Weiss," she indicated the male on her left.
Katrina interjected, "In case any of you were wondering whether or not I'm related to the mobile doll engineer, the answer is yes, but very distantly."
"My name is Mariemaia Kushrenada," Mariemaia said. "Yes, that Mariemaia Kushrenada," she said, seeing their expressions. "I'm the Lieutenant in charge of Second Squad. Our unit leader isn't here at the moment, so I'm in charge. This," she indicated Zhacque, "is Lieutenant (JG) Zhacque Lejeun, also of Second Squad." Zhacque nodded to each of the new arrivals.
Breton stepped forward. "Andre Breton, Sergeant, Second Squad. Pleased to meet you."
"Lieutenant (JG) Mike Sullivan. First Squad."
"Lance Corporal Brian Phinney, Second."
"PFC John Treadwell. I'm in First, with Mike.
Just then Roche arrived. "These the new arrivals, Lieutenant Kushrenada?"
"Yes."
"Good. You," he pointed at Weiss, "are in Second. The rest of you are in First Squad with me. Now come with me, we're going to do a sim mission."
Trivel was examining files in his office when his aide entered. "What is it?" he said without looking up. His aide did not reply.
"I asked you why you're here," Trivel said, looking up at last and coming face-to-face with the muzzle of the pistol the aide was holding. "Wh-what's the meaning of this?" Trivel spluttered.
"Do you desire peace, Foreign Minister? True peace?" the aide asked, his calm voice in sharp contrast to the zealous light in his eyes.
"Of- Of course I do," Trivel answered, still shaken. "Don't we all?"
"Indeed," the aide answered, and a manic smile spread across his face to match the gleam in his eye. "In that case, you will kill Ambassador Winner, and then yourself."
"Kill him? But-"
"I see that I will have to alter you. Too bad. I was hoping that I could persuade you. Before you are forever changed, know this: the only True Peace is Death," the aide said, coming around the desk, still covering Trivel with the pistol. Then, with his other hand he withdrew a hypodermic needle from his pocket and injected whatever it contained into Trivel's arm. His vision clouded, and he heard as though from far away the aide's voice saying, "Goodbye, Foreign Minister. You will never be the same man again." Then the darkness came, and all was silent.
Trowa and Catherine sat eating dinner and watching the news.
"Ambassador Quatre Raberba Winner arrived safely on Mars today as part of President Darlian's peace negotiations. He met briefly with the Martian Foreign Minister Trivel," the screen showed footage of Quatre getting off the shuttle and talking to a man Trowa could only assume was Trivel, "but soon departed for his lodgings owing to the long trip and the local time difference. President Darlian's appointment of Winner to this delicate diplomatic position has sparked some controversy over the irregularity of the appointment, since Winner is both the well-known head of the Winner Corporation and a former Gundam pilot; however, President Darlian issued this statement in support of her decision."
Relena's image appeared onscreen. "In response to the controversy regarding to my appointment of Quatre Raberba Winner to be the Ambassador to Mars, I say this: that I know him to be a trustworthy person and a passionate lover of peace. He will do everything he can to reconcile Earth and Mars without further bloodshed." The image switched back to that of the newscaster. "Needless to say, we are all hoping that this situation can be ended without further violence. In other news-"
Catherine grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "Well, I'm glad there's not going to be another war that you'll feel obligated to go fight in," she said to Trowa.
"I still might have to fight, Cathy. If the peace process breaks down, there will most likely be a war," Trowa replied calmly.
"Don't remind me," Catherine returned.
"You shouldn't worry too much about it," Trowa reassured her. "I'm sure Quatre will do everything he can to prevent another war from happening. I just like to plan for every eventuality."
"Well, go ahead and plan but don't get the rest of us worked up about it."
"Sorry, Cathy."
Quatre sat down opposite Trivel at the round meeting table. It was the third day of negotiations, and things were going well. Quatre was confident that they could clear the last major issue today: the fate of the Aresian Military Service.
"To me, the main problem is how the Preventers and our forces will cooperate to eliminate terrorism," Trivel was saying.
"I agree that that will need to be worked out," Quatre allowed, "but it seems to me that the main problem is in the way that the two forces, having independent command structures, will sometimes end up obstructing each other purely accidentally, which will breed enmity and resentment. Over time, those sentiments could swell into a new secessionist movement and damage the dream of true peace that we are all pursuing."
An expression of anger filled Trivel's face; his eyes bugged out and he shouted, "True peace is not a dream! True peace is death, and if you want it so badly I'll give it to you!"
Startled by Trivel's departure from his normal behavior pattern, Quatre sat dumbfounded as Trivel charged around the table, hands outstretched and waiting to crush his throat.
Rasid, who insisted on accompanying Quatre, interposed himself between Trivel and Quatre and the two of them began grappling. Quatre, coming out of his stunned paralysis, saw a squad of Martian soldiers enter the room and level their submachine guns at himself and the still-grappling Rasid and Trivel.
"Wait!" he yelled. "You don't understand!" But they paid him no heed.
Rasid delivered a stunning blow to Trivel, and the Martian Foreign Minister slumped, unconscious. "Drop your weapons if you don't want your minister hurt!" Rasid bellowed.
The troopers reluctantly began to lower their guns.
"Drop your weapons!" Rasid repeated.
There was a clatter as their guns hit the floor.
"Good," Rasid said. "Now, stand aside and let us through. Master Quatre, take two of those; we may have to fight our way out of here." The soldiers cleared the doorway
"Very well," Quatre said sadly, scooping up two of the discarded guns and handing one to Rasid. With Trivel unconscious over Rasid's shoulder, he and Quatre backed out of the room, covering the soldiers as they did so.
"Auda, Ahmad, Abdul," Rasid's voice issued from the shuttle's speaker. "The Martian Minister tried to kill Master Quatre. We need the shuttle ready to go in ten minutes."
"Sure thing," Auda said. "I'm guessing they'll pursue us, so should we get the surprise ready as well?"
"Go ahead," came Rasid's reply.
Rasid and Quatre ran toward the shuttle as fast as they could, Martian troopers firing at their backs. Taking a flying leap, they landed in the shuttle door and collapsed into chairs.
"Ready for takeoff, Master Quatre," Auda said.
"Go- ahead- and- take off," Quatre panted. The shuttle's thrusters roared, and it shot up and away through the sky.
Mariemaia and Zhacque crept into the simulator chamber and activated two Taurus II sim units. Climbing into the cockpits, they each inserted their respective copies of the Zero system software.
"Zhacque," Mariemaia said, "I wanna see if I can handle this system."
"Ditto," Zhacque agreed. "Should we fight computer opponents or each other?"
"Well," she said, "I think I forgot to specify computer opponents, so we'll have to fight each other. At least it will be more of a challenge," she continued, entering ZERO on her pad even as Zhacque did the same.
"Let's dance," Zhacque said.
Continued in Episode 10: The Death of Peace