CHAPTER SIX: THIS COLD CRUEL WORLD OF OURS
Two young children ran through the wheat fields outside the Eurasian village of DuBlanca, a town just seven miles away from the city of Lusitania. The two kids were having a simple little game of tag under the starry night sky.
The lead child ran up a small hill that separated the fields from the rolling plains of the countryside. He looked up into the sky and saw two huge shooting starts falling to Earth. His friend ran up the hill to meet him, and he too watched the stars fall from the sky. However, these were not stars. They were bringers of doom. For soon, the lives of these two children and those of their families would be torn apart by the ones who descended to the Earth that night.
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The two Girty-Lue class ships Croatian and Mohawk landed gently in a large valley, somewhere in the middle of Eurasia. The two ships were black and scarred from their journey through the atmosphere, but otherwise intact.
Inside the Croatian, Sige Lunaris slept peacefully inside the cockpit of his Dagger E, having fallen into a deep sleep while working on its OS. Sige was dreaming peacefully, until he was awoken by the sound of two familiar voices. Opening his eyes, Sige peeked out of his machine's cockpit.
Sven and Selene were having a rather animated discussion, and their voices were just barely audible to Sige if he strained himself. Sven made a gesture and said, "Listen Selene, you know that I have feelings for you, but I don't know where you got the idea that I was in love with you. We agreed from the start that it was a relationship of convenience. You'd just lost Sol; I'd just lost Mudi. There weren't any real feelings there. We both know that."
Selene looked hurt. She tried to stroke Sven's face, but he pushed her hand aside. "Sven, we've been together for six years. For six years, we've shared our lives with each other, and now you want to throw it all away? I thought…Well I thought you might have gotten over Mudi and begun to love me. I guess I can never replace her. Not in your eyes anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't fill the gap in your heart, Sven." Selene turned and sprinted away, and Sige saw tears streaming down her face.
Sven looked after her for a moment, before turning and leaving through another door. Sige sat back in the Dagger's cockpit and thought things over. His view of Sven and Selene's relationship had just been radically altered. Apparently, both had been in relationships that didn't work out too well, and had drifted towards each other as a way to lick they're wounds.
Sige pulled the blanket he'd taken from the pilot's lounge around him tightly. Eurasia was bitterly cold, after-all. He closed his eyes and tried to forget about what he'd just heard. Soon enough, he was in dreamland, where his parents were still alive.
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Sven hadn't gone back to his quarters after his spat with Selene. He couldn't. They shared the same room, and the last thing he needed now was to see her. Sven laid down on the couch in the pilot's lounge and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. Unable to fall asleep, he thought back to why he and Selene had wound up together anyway.
After she'd pulled him from the wreckage of the Strike Noir, she'd used that silver wonder machine of hers to fly them to somewhere around Venus. Once they were out of the combat zone, Selene had treated his wounds as best she could.
On the return trip to Earth, there hadn't been much to do except talk, and they'd gradually found that they shared a lot in common. After Sven had been picked up by an Alliance ship and Selene had gone back to the PLANTS, the two had kept in touch. Once ZAFT had taken over, Sven and Selene had been key members of the movement that had eventually given birth to the Adepts, or as they were better known, the Resistance.
Still, even though Sven deeply cared for Selene, he could not love her. He couldn't love anyone after he'd let the last person he'd truly loved die. Finally, sleep claimed Sven. As he drifted off, he mumbled three simple words, "I…love you…"
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Neo finished off his mug of coffee and sat down on his bunk. He reached over to his desk and picked up a picture of Murrue that had been taken before the second war. Neo fought back the tears as he remembered how, in that final battle, he hadn't been able to stop the rampaging Destiny from blowing a hole in the Archangel's bridge. He had tried his hardest to keep her safe, and he still failed. That was all he was, a failure.
Lying on his bed, Neo moved past the memories of Murrue and to how he'd ended up on a Girty-Lue class in the middle of Eurasia as a member of a rebellion. It had all started about a year after the war ended. He'd managed to hook up with some survivors after Messiah, and they'd gone to Mars. He had drifted in the Martian colonies until he had met Selene and Sven. They and a few others managed to get the Resistance up and running, and they'd eventually gotten to the point they were at now.
Still, that doesn't explain why I even decided to join these people. I have nothing left to live for. What is driving me to keep fighting ZAFT?, He thought. Even as he said the words in his head, he saw in image of that dark gray mobile suit, the Legend, as it tore through Orb forces. Its pilot was another one of his father's clones. Neo grimaced as he thought of Al Da Flaga, and how much he hated him. Neo realized that he fought to eradicate any trace of that madman, even himself.
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In the city of Lusitania, just fifty miles from where the Mohawk and Croatian crashed, the command headquarters of Commander Fang Graymount was a buzz with activity. The head-honcho himself was in the midst of it, preparing for an attack on the Eurasian Liberation Front.
Fang angrily punched the computer screen before him, cracking it. "God Dammit! The BABIs and GOUFs won't be here for another Goddamned week. Marcus!" he shouted, calling for his assistant. The balding Lt. that served as Fang's punching bag slash assistant hurried over to his superior's side.
"Yessir," Marcus said tentatively, "The new units won't be here for awhile. Apparently there was a large battle in orbit between some Martian rebels and several ZAFT ships which delayed the delivery."
Fang's anger continued to rise. "Why wasn't I informed of this? We need those suits to finally deal a killing blow to those rebels in the mountains," Fang barked, referring to the Eurasian revolutionaries that had a base in the mountains ten miles from the city, "Our BuCUE Ys can't traverse mountainous terrain. You know this, Marcus."
Marcus brace himself for the tongue lashing that was sure to come. "Sir, I told you this yesterday, just before you ran the training drills in the BuCUEs. I tried to get them to arrive sooner, but they were adamant about re-supplying the fleet that engaged the rebels." Marcus monitored Fang's face in case his superior was about to explode.
However, instead of going on a rampage, Fang was thinking things over. It wasn't his anger that had gotten a hold of him, it was his ambition. "Marcus, do you know if those rebels descended to Earth after the battle?"
Marcus consulted the data pad that he constantly carried with him. "It appears they did land in Eurasia. The computer says that they've landed about twelve miles from Kasselheim, a small village south of here."
Fang grinned devilishly. "Marcus, have the troops keep an eye out for any signs of those rebels. We'll eliminate them and those Eurasians within the month, and I'll be promoted to commander-in-chief of ZAFT's Eurasian forces."
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Sige gulped down the remainder of his orange juice and looked down at his bacon and eggs. Or, as he preferred to call them, microwaved horseshit. The Croatian's food was little better than vitamin rich gunk, but he had to eat it to live. Sige was pondering whether to eat his remaining food or throw it away when he saw Sven enter the cafeteria.
Sige stood up and walked over to his friend. Whispering, he asked, "Sven, how's it going? You okay man?" Sige waited for his buddy's reply, worried that Sven might be really depressed…
…instead Sven was angry, very angry. Sven's arm flew out and grabbed Sige by the collar of his shirt. Lifting the young Martian off the ground, Sven glared into Sige's eyes menacingly. "Why don't you mind your own God damned business, you little punk?"
Sven dropped Sige onto the floor and stalked out of the cafeteria, leaving a stunned Sige sitting on the floor.
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Meanwhile onboard the Mohawk, Wolf was going about his business as normal. He had just finished eating in the cafeteria and was now in the gym lifting weights. As he pushed the 150lbs of weight upwards in another rep, he thought back to why he was here fighting with people who'd tried to kill him six years ago.
He flashed back to the battle of Messiah and shuddered as he remembered the way his mobile suit had exploded. He'd barely survived and was on life support for a year before he was able to get out of bed. That was a far cry from the shape he was in now.
Wolf remembered that he'd been chosen as the Mohawk's captain because of his family, but that was nothing to brag about. He still had scars to remind him of what his family had done to him. More specifically, what his father had done to him.
Wolf finished working out and sat up on the weight bench. He was wiping the sweat from his eyes when a young ensign came up to him. "Sir," he began," Your presence is requested on the bridge. It's the Croatian, sir."
Wolf nodded and put back on his shirt, covering his scars. He stood up, grabbed his bottle of water and walked with the ensign to the elevator that led to the bridge. Inside the elevator on the way up, Wolf noticed the young ensign was staring at his chest, no doubt because of his multitude of scars.
"Ensign, what are you staring at?" Wolf asked, hoping to bait the young man into a conversation. The elevator to the Mohawk's bridge was notoriously slow.
The ensign paled and said, "Sir, I was just wondering how you got all those scars. It was rude of me to stare."
Wolf smiled and said, "It's alright. You're not the first and you won't be the last. I got these scars back in the war, when my mobile suit took an anti-ship sword to the face during the battle at Messiah. I barely escaped, and spent almost two years in a hospital bed. It was my own fault for letting myself to get chopped up like that. I guess these scars are what I deserve for getting distracted."
The elevator reached its destination and Wolf stepped out onto the bridge. The main view-screen showed Neo and Sven's faces. Wolf plopped down in his captain's chair and non-chalantly took a swig of his water before saying, "So, what do you need from me?"
Neo visibly shuddered at Wolf's attitude. "Wolf, you know I hate it when you act like a damned schoolboy. As you know, we've landed somewhere in Eurasia, about fifty miles away from a city known as Lusitania. Coincidently, it appears that the Eurasian Liberation Front has strong support here. Would you be willing to go into the city, along with Sven and Sige, to try and make contact with them?"
Wolf nodded and said, "Sure. I've seen footage of them, and they'd be much better friends than enemies. When should we leave?"
Sven spoke up this time. "We can leave anytime. The sooner the better." Wolf nodded and noticed that Sven's voice seemed different. What had happened to him top make him sound like he was about to fall apart?
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Author's Note: Finally, I've finished the latest chapter. You might notice that this one was a lot slower paced than the others, and contained no action. This was intentional, and Sorrow will keep this pace for the rest of the story. I felt like I was getting too much action and not enough character development, which is what Sorrow is really all about. Peace out all, R&R!