The song referenced here is given a name as some variation on "The Revel"; it's usually credited originally to Bartholomew Dowling, an Irish author and poet (probably wrongly credited, as it's supposedly written from first-hand experience of a plague India while he never visited India).
Back in the day I had a saying that until you wrote some giant robot combat you weren't really writing Gundam Wing. Let's get down to it.
Taxiing
Noin mentally reviewed her schedule today. Wake up, simulator time, breakfast, greeting four new pilots coming in today to help fill out the squadron, check the results of Two Flight's combat certification test, lunch, paperwork, couple of hours personal time if she got that done, dinner, sleep.
The certification test, known unofficially as "The Gundam Test" was simple in theory: defeat one of the five original Gundams in simulation. This didn't sound difficult, considering the originals were arguably inferior to the mobile suits the Preventers used. The problem was that the Preventers also had three of the original pilots and they usually turned up to play themselves in the sim. In this case, Duo Maxwell would be piloting the simulated Deathscythe against Two Flight, so they were in for quite a workout.
It also meant they didn't have to fly in Wufei Chang, which was just fine with Noin. She knew there was a third Gundam pilot with the Preventers as well, but somehow nobody seemed to know who it was. It still couldn't be Winner, since he was a public figure.
Forsythe came to attention as Noin entered the simulator area. Noin waved her down. "At ease. Warmups?" It was Noin's policy that you should spend at least sixty minutes in the air or in a simulator every day if you had the ability.
"Six Virgo Twos. Nice and easy." Forsythe replied. It was a reflection of how far things had come that Virgo mobile dolls were seen as anything less than an apocalyptic scenario. Forsythe was exaggerating a bit, but...for them, not too much. Besides, there were only outnumbered three to one. Noin's combat career had mostly been fighting against much longer odds.
The paperwork wasn't so bad. Actually better than what she remembered from her Specials days, far less painful than when she was running the entire military of the Sanq Kingdom under Relena's nose. Something else was bothering her though. She was the only OZ-trained pilot in the squadron. And with some trepidation she called up the roster of the last graduating class of the Victoria Space Combat Academy.
The first thing Noin noticed about her upgraded Taurus was not the changed armor plate or the improved thrusters. It was the beam rifle, the slightly longer but overall slimmed-down Preventer version with improved killing power. Or more specifically...
"Is that a bayonet lug?" Noin demanded, incredulous.
"It is," Forsythe said, also surveying the newly upgraded suit. She knew the way a Preventer Taurus was supposed to look better than her squadron leader, and had been conscripted to help with the walkaround.
Across the way, Duo looked up from where he was messing with something inside his MS cockpit. "It works, Boss. You use one of the suit's beamsabers on it. I bought the farm in yesterday's sim because it let someone parry the first strike while they drew a beamsaber."
Noin's grimace betrayed both her belief that what Duo was saying was true, and her inborn Specials dislike of so...inelegant a weapon. She shook her head; the Specials and OZ were gone, at least in part because they hadn't liked inelegant approaches to battle. The beamsabers, of which the suit had a pair, were stored on the hip armor. She hadn't used a beamsaber since basic MS training, a decade ago. She was going to need to practice. "Who's the squadron beamsaber expert?" Noin asked Forsythe.
"Probably Maxwell. He fights weird, though. Reverse grip." Forsythe shrugged. "Actually, Dyer fights weird too. Kendo influences, I think." The standard beamsaber combat style had been developed based on European fencing styles, because OZ and its Specials front had been fundamentally European organizations. It was probably inevitable that alternate styles would be developed based on alternate traditions of swordsmanship, Noin reflected, but Maxwell's reverse-grip method...
"Maxwell!" she called. Duo raised his head again. "Reverse grip?"
"A mobile suit isn't a human. Most of its joints aren't quite as flexible, but the wrists can rotate much further. Play to your strengths." Duo replied. "Worked it out as a consulting gig for the Preventers after the Mariemaia thing. Most boring three months of my life."
"All right. You're doing two hours in the sim with me before lights out until further notice. I need to brush up." Noin shrugged in response to the look from Forsythe. She wasn't the kind of leader who never admitted weakness.
Noin waved Forsythe off and touched the door to embark, freezing a moment as she did so. Once again, reality threatened to collapse for a moment, but she fought it off this time. The Taurus made it easier, and there was a tiny wince about that fact.
"You were looking kind of zoned when we mounted up, One." Forsythe's voice. This was the start of the checkouts on the new Taurus: cleanup detail on the devastated portions of New Edwards. Noin refrained from wincing. Forsythe was a very good wing, because she was good at reading people from their actions. Unfortunately, she was therefore good at reading people.
"I was looking up what happened to the people I graduated out of Victoria, last night." Noin replied, her Taurus leaning down to grab a slab of concrete that had once been the roof of a hardened hanger. "It...wasn't very encouraging. I've got this end."
"Copy. On three...one, two, three." They lifted the concrete slab onto the extra-large dumptruck and watched it drive off. "The Vicky Kids scared the hell out of us, back in the Alliance Space Forces. You could spot them by how they moved their suits, how they fought. Some of us had nightmares about them. You did an excellent job, you know."
"Then why..." Noin trailed off and shook her head.
"They were in a bad spot. We played dead after Operation Daybreak, just drew back and pretended we didn't exist. When the White Fang happened, we came back too. They were in a vice and they weren't getting the support they needed from Earth." Forsythe's tone was soft. "But you taught them well about duty and honor, you know. Their duty was to fight, and fight they did. We hated those kids. They never rolled over and died. They never did something stupid. They made us work for it, every time." Forsythe's head shake was almost audible; Noin could also read people. "You should be proud of those kids, One."
"I am. But one in fifty survived. That's ten of them, maybe a couple more. And I graduated each of those classes. It's...very bleak, very personal." Noin sighed. "You grab that wall, I'll deal with this one." The rest of the hanger's remains went into a different truck, which also drove off. "It's at times like this I think I get an inkling of what drove Zechs to do some of the things he did. Make it all so horrible that nobody can ever think about it again."
"Doesn't work, though." Forsythe replied.
"You get a generation at best." Noin agreed. If she'd actually ever believed in Zechs' plan...but her family history remembered names like Tonale Pass and Vittorio, where Italy had secured its existence as a nation at immense cost in lives. The family history also remembered Beda Fomm twenty-two years later, though with a great deal less fondness.
She loved Zechs, but to love someone was to observe them keenly. Including their faults. And of course, there was the lurking problem in all plans to traumatize humanity as a whole: it was wrong. Any woman who habitually wore the image of two saints probably had very strong opinions on the concepts of right and wrong, and Noin was not an exception to that.
Noin carefully drew out the suit's beamsaber and proceeded to cut up a damaged building into more manageable chunks for the two Taurus to transfer to another truck. Noin noticed her Taurus' left arm twitched, glanced at her systems panel, and sighed. "The movement control comp for the left arm is spitting some minor errors. Bypassing it." She started hitting buttons on the side console to run the bypass.
"Post-upgrade blues." Forsythe sounded amused. "Nothing works perfect the first time after a major refit. When the Block Two came out for the Space Leo...now that was a mess."
Noin laughed as she finished the bypass. "I was actually there for that, you know."
"Specials are all groundpounders at heart," Forsythe replied, affecting a snooty accent. "God, what fools we all were when we were younger. Since I guess we still count as young." Forsythe herself was actually four years older than Noin, but that only made her 26.
"Does that mean youth is wasted on us still?" Noin asked, once again unclipping the beamsaber to chop up another hardened building.
"Probably." Forsythe started moving bits of the building into the first dump truck, which had come back. "That roof slab's going to tip a truck."
"I'll cut it down." And the day rolled on.
Noin's dreams that night were not pleasant. She tried to exorcise them through her shower and putting on her uniform and her vacsuit, which was required as it also doubled as a flight suit, but it didn't work. Still...her Taurus was ready to fly. And flight had always offered a refuge against her nightmares, save for that one Christmas Eve.
Noin was surprised to discover that the Taurus was fully armed. In fact, they all were now, with both their standard armament and their external ordnance. A six-pack of missiles on each chest hardpoint, with the launch package being aerodynamically shaped so it looked like it was actually part of the Taurus.
"Commander!" Duo's voice, and she turned. He was also suited up for flight, with the Preventer-style grey vacsuit. One thing Noin had noted was that someone had done more to make the suits comfortable since the Eve Wars, in a way that made her suspect some former pilot had founded a company and started making them. "I hear you've got to make a check hop too."
Noin glanced at him. "What's changed with your suit?"
"Replacing an old fuel pump." Duo said. "I hope you don't mind the company, Boss."
Noin was dismissive of any potential complaint. "I'm not being babysat." But Duo didn't immediately reply, and she scrutinized him more thoroughly. "I am being babysat, aren't I?"
"Boss..." Duo paused. "Look, people may not recognize your name like they do mine, but I was there when we hit Libra. You splashed more than your fair share of Virgos. And the Director knows you personally and she likes you in exactly the way she doesn't like me. Intelligence has been rumbling a lot lately about our part of the world. And as messed up as it sounds, you're also the closest thing I've ever had to a mother, so I'm going to be a little protective." He gave her one of his cocky grins. "I really did have a fuel pump replaced."
The closest thing- "You can't mean that."
"Just because I'm the most normal child soldier you know doesn't mean I'm actually normal." Duo's expression was, for once, dead serious. "My life before we met is actually a story that'll make you want to kill everyone involved. And we both know Po had her hands full with Wufei. Let's fly, Commander."
"Lightning, flight of two. Requesting clearance for takeoff, vector for Victoria."
Duo's face appeared on the screen at the corner of her forward view; unlike the ex-Alliance types who regarded the visual transmission as a distraction, he actually seemed to believe in that sort of thing. "We going to visit old haunts?"
"That's not particularly funny." Noin replied.
Duo visibly winced. "Sorry Boss. Not always good at engaging brain before I open mouth."
"Lightning Flight, clearance granted. Vector zero-seven-five at fifteen thousand and hand off to Central Africa ATC."
Mach 3.3, as fast as the Preventer-modified Taurus could go in an Earth atmosphere. Then a hard burn of retros, firing orientation thrusters, the Taurus rotating into the start of a barrel roll, nose rising and flipping back, stall, flip upright and force the nose down with the thrusters, recover and burn the opposite direction.
She throttled down to a more reasonable speed and couldn't hold down the single giddy laugh. She'd never flown anything that could have made that maneuver before. Uninverting in a stall, forcing the nose down without the control surfaces; the Aries could vector, but not like this. This was dancing.
"Having fun, Boss?"
This time she didn't fight the laughter. "Yes, Duo. Yes I am." Her chest hurt, and Noin suspected the beginnings of a Pilot's Kiss; the x-shaped chest bruise that resulted from being pressed against the four-point restraint harness on all mobile suits. She also found she didn't care; she'd not had that particular occupational injury in the last three years.
It felt...right, somehow. A resurrection. The sheer joy of flight threatened to overwhelm her. Noin hated herself for it for a few seconds; this wasn't... But the thought couldn't complete. Not here. Not at the controls of a Taurus again. The hatred of combat that she was supposed to have learned melted in the face of the reality of flight.
Victoria Space Combat Academy had never been rebuilt. Chosen for its remote location, that had counted against it when it came time to rebuild and when the Preventers had easier and friendlier access to actual space colonies as training bases for exoatmospheric operations.
It had also become a shrine for those who thought the treatment of the Gundam pilots had been too lenient, that their heroism was no match for their crimes. Noin...wasn't sure she liked that. Granted she would never speak kindly of the pilot of Gundam 05, which was how she still thought of Wufei. But she had a personal understanding of this tragedy, and that it had been politicized made her unreasonably angry. A rallying cry for those with grievances, certainly, she could understand and even appreciate that. A symbol of a past that shouldn't be forgotten, certainly. A political talking point for people who didn't want Lady Une in a position of power in the ESUN government...
Lucrezia Noin was glad she'd never met any of the people who did that. She was quite sure she'd react violently to them. The area was mostly empty to her eyes, with only a few people about as her Taurus came in low outside the old perimeter fence and switched modes.
"First time I've ever been here, Boss." Duo said. He surveyed the scene with practiced eyes, too practiced for his age of 17, and Noin watched his expression shifting before her eyes, growing darker. "He blew the cadet barracks first, didn't he?" Duo asked, voice gone cold.
"Yes," Noin replied quietly.
"Figures. The work's too good to have been done with MS weaponry. Precise placement of explosives, controlled demolition, blow out the interior, make the walls flop on what's left to ensure nobody gets out. Would have to be done on foot." There was a clinical manner to Duo's tone, but also a deep loathing.
"You sound disgusted." Noin observed, still soft.
"The first thing to understand about us Gundam pilots is that we are all bundles of amazing, fucked-up issues." Duo replied. "Trowa literally didn't have a name before he climbed into Heavyarms. I saw the orphanage that's the first place I can remember get burned and blasted by some out-of-control Alliance maniacs. Heero's been trained to fight since before he could walk. Quatre's teen rebellion involved building a Gundam. I don't know what Wufei's story is 'cuz he won't tell it, but believe me when I say he's the hardest of us to work with and the one with the most serious issues."
Duo's Taurus shifted slightly, surveying the old compound. "And after what he pulled with joining Mariemaia, I'm not sure he's got his head screwed on straight, Boss. I think he does, but I'm not sure he does anymore. Considering his usual talking points, this ain't helping my opinion."
"I'm going to dismount." Noin said after a few moments absorbing that statement. "Pay my respects."
"Copy. I think I'll stay suited up if it's okay Boss, don't want to cause an uproar." Duo replied.
"Agreed."
Dismounting after having come home, with a rather serious set of aerobatics along the way to exorcise the last of the Lake Victoria demons, Noin dismounted from her Taurus. She probably looked a mess; sweaty, hair out of order, but...the Taurus left her unable to quite erase a small grin, too. It was amazing. The best thing she could ever think of flying.
Dyer was waiting at the entrance into the building. "Skipper." The nod was respectful, but Noin actually didn't understand the reference. It wasn't really her fault. The Specials hadn't had a naval component until late in their existence, long after Noin had been insulated at Victoria. She managed to mask her confusion well, and noted that from Duo's reaction that he apparently approved, while Forsythe...
Forsythe looked a little surprised. And also a little pleased. That was probably a better measure than Duo's reaction, so Noin nodded back and resolved to look it up later. "Lieutenant." Truth be told, Dyer...reminded her in an odd way of Lady Une during her less-approachable periods; hard eyes and an expression only when he was speaking. He wasn't as angry or cold, but the resemblance was enough to discomfort her occasionally.
"Dinner's ready in the mess, so you're just in time." Dyer said, and lead the way. He didn't sit yet, though. "And, a moment for our anthem." Dyer said. It was an old song, predating even flight, but it was one every fighter pilot knew. A lot of that had to do with fact every fighter pilot had seen Errol Flynn's turn playing a fighter pilot of the First World War, though Noin noted that Dyer conspicuously omitted the verse about betrayal.
She also noted he actually sang decently. Not performance-quality, but better than she would have expected. One by one the other members of the squadron joined in. Even if they didn't know the words. It was...odd but she felt she was literally watching them come together as a unit for the first time. And in that moment she also understood why she'd run away from a dysfunctional relationship by rejoining the military.
Because it worked here. Because she felt like she belonged, like everyone belonged, like she could trust the person in the next seat, the next room, the next mobile suit. Because she understood it, in exactly the way she couldn't always understand Zechs.
And that realization wasn't a very comfortable one.
It was about four in the morning when the klaxon went off. Noin was about to hit the shower in preparation for starting the day, but instead she grabbed her vacsuit and struggled halfway into it, exiting the room as she zipped it shut. The hall was full of half-dressed pilots scrambling into their flightsuits and sprinting for the hanger, and she joined them.
Noin noted that three Tauri were already disengaging from their maintenance gantries. Two others had already made it out the door and were in a flat run to minimum safe distance from the hanger before they took to the air.
She mounted the ladder and was in her cockpit in five quick pulls, skipping a number of the rungs. She hit the switches for rapid startup in the same motion she pushed herself into her seat. Scrambling was a procedure you never forgot. The screens lighted up and the suit's power output and systems reported they were performing to spec. "Lightning Actual is online."
"Lightning Actual, this is Tower. Scramble and vector three-one-three at maximum cruise. You're going to Epyon's Grave. Further data as the situation develops. Over." While Tower conveyed the information, Noin was disengaging her Taurus from its gantry and moving out of the hanger, working up to a sprint.
Epyon's Grave was where the wreckage of Libra that had actually penetrated the atmosphere had landed in the mid-Atlantic, and the purported resting place of the Gundam Epyon. Noin heard the Taurus' thrusters light off under her and felt the pressure of acceleration as it leaped skyward, going to fighter mode. "Lightning Squadron, form on me."
A series of acknowledgements came back, then another transmission from the tower. "Lightning Actual, this is the CINC New Edwards. MMS Two is loading aboard suborbital transports also en route to Epyon's Grave. Report any contacts that could interfere with deployment and secure the area. Do not allow any surface or airborne contacts to exit the area. Repeat, all surface and air contacts should be detained. Use of force is authorized. Uploading coordinates. Other units are being diverted to assist. Identify with IFF, codeword Thunderclap."
Noin's suit spit out its projected flight time at its cruising speed of Mach two point five. "Copy. Lightning is outbound, ETA one hour thirty minutes" She looked to see most of the squadron had assumed formation around her, Forsythe to her right, behind, and above by three hundred meters, the second section a kilometer behind and half a klick above, the third section a kilometer behind that and half a klick below her; the other two flights were further out in a macro version of the flight deployment. The spacing was meant to prevent any wide-scale beam cannon shot or missile volley from successfully hitting more than one or two suits .
"Lightning, this is Lead." Noin was all business now. "We're outbound to Epyon's Grave, uploading coordinates. We are to secure the area, detain anything and anyone we find, and report any contacts en route. MMS Two and other units will be joining us as they become available. Use your IFF and check their identity via challenge. The correct response is Thunderclap. If you have to use force to do it, you are clear to do so within reason. Warning shots only except by my direct order."
Again the responses in order, and she settled in for the flight, watching her radar closely. Forsythe's own Taurus shadowed hers perfectly, and Noin had a single moment to admire the precision with which even simple formation flying was executed.
"Lightning, Eight, I have intermittent contacts at five hundred klicks, dead ahead, our altitude." Dyer's voice actually seemed more animated in the cockpit.
"Two. Confirm-strobe! Somebody just lit countermeasures." Forsythe's voice was less so.
Noin watched her radar attempt to compensate for the jamming, the ECCM software eventually settling at a reduced range of two hundred fifty klicks after boosting power and trying some frequency-hopping tricks. "New Edwards CINC," it was pronounced 'sink' usually, "this is Lightning Actual. We are receiving jamming over the target area."
They crossed the distance in a minute. "Lead to squadron. Multiple airborne contacts emitting jamming and search radar signals. Designation Aries." Radar types were distinctive. Which meant the Aries likely knew what they were dealing with too. A standard Aries suit had to trade one of its wing mounts for an ECM pod, Noin knew, but these might not be standard. "Climb three klicks."
"Unknown flight, this is Preventer Space Mobile Suit Squadron Twenty-Two. Under the authority of the Earth United Sphere Defense Act, deactivate your ECM and radar and inform your mothership to heave to." Her radar wasn't tracking it yet, but there had to be a mothership. Aries weren't fast enough to get all the way out here without a mothership or a refueling stop. It'd take them eight hours, and they only flew for six. "If you do not comply, we are authorized to use force."
"SMS Twenty-Two we do not recognize your authority to give us orders. Do not approach closer than twenty kilometers or we will fire on you."
"Lightning Actual." A new voice. Lady Une's voice. "This is the Director. We have reason to believe they are defending a salvage operation for the Gundam Epyon and may attempt to activate it. I don't need to tell you what happens if they do." Only a few people had ever used a Zero System without going utterly berserk. "Find that mothership and stop them. If you are engaged, respond in kind."
"Understood, Director. Lightning, we're going in. Fingers on your ECM switches. Do not fire unless I order otherwise." Noin switched to an almost soft tone. "Unknown Aries flight, this is your last warning. We're coming in."
No response. "Lightning, this is Lead. One and Two Flights, accelerate to max speed and follow me in. Three Flight, top cover. Engage if someone needs help." Three Flight was still weak, with only two suits.
"Two." Forsythe responded only with her place in the the formation, following Noin's wingover and dive on the Aries formation.
There were about twenty-five of them, maybe a few more, and they had turned and climbed towards the Taurus of SMS 22, but the Aries weren't as fast and didn't have the raw power that let the Taurus climb so rapidly. Noin's Taurus was on them in thirty seconds, blowing through the middle of their formation with Forsythe tucked in close. What had been a tight, disciplined formation blew apart as the Aries scattered like pigeons before a hawk.
"Four is defensive!" That was Yin, whose Taurus broke formation as a pair of grey missile trails extended towards it. The Taurus didn't use the usual flares-and-chaff missile countermeasures, for the simple reason that in space they usually didn't work well. Instead, it had a small store of "Firecrackers", countermeasures that were designed to temporarily blind a missile seekerhead by producing a broad spectrum flash of infrared, visual, and microwave-frequency radiation. Yin's Taurus dumped a Firecracker as it climbed over the Aries formation, Buthelezi's Taurus pulling up smoothly and falling into a wing slot for her from its lead position, dumping another Firecracker as well. The missiles went wild, but a storm of chaingun fire followed the two Taurus suits.
"Lightning, engage! Damaging shots if you can." An Aries appeared behind Noin's Taurus, firing its chaingun even as it quickly fell behind the Taurus, only for Forsythe to pounce on it and cripple with a beam shot to the engine. The Aries dropped, trailing black smoke and losing altitude.
Two Flight hit the Aries before they could regroup. The first section did some maneuver Noin couldn't figure out just watching from this distance, slashing into and then back through the formation in thirty seconds, a half-dozen Aries dropping and one outright exploding. "Splash." Dyer announced dispassionately, even over the sound of a random chaingun burst glancing off his suit's armor. If anything, he seemed slightly disgusted. The other two sections pounced on a separate element of eight Aries that were trying to go after the first section of Two Flight and tore them up, four damaged and four diving for the deck with Taurus in pursuit.
Noin swept into a high-gee turn for a second pass. "Lead, Six, missiles inbound! Break!"
They had all fired at her. Infrared missiles, considering there had been no lock warning. She counted at least a dozen missiles inbound and held her turn, dumping a pair of Firecrackers and pulling a hard turn to try and keep them abreast of the suit, watching a few lose their locks but more kept coming. Forsythe slid between her and the missiles and dumped a Firecracker, confusing them as the two Taurus broke in separate directions, up and down. A couple of the remaining missiles went after Forsythe instead, but three more came at Noin. She heard a couple of splash calls, but was too busy fighting the threat to her life to pay attention.
"Lance with three!" Three other missiles shot into the space between Noin's Taurus and the inbound, killing the ones approaching her.
"Lance with two." Forsythe's problems also went away. Lance was the Preventer code for a radar-guided missile launch.
"Two!" Noin called.
"Two's okay." Forsythe replied.
"Stay on them but cease fire." The Aries were completely on the back foot by now, with most of the survivors just barely able to stay airborne from their damage or being pursued by a Taurus. Noin also counted four parachutes in the air. She'd missed some splashes. "Aries flight, you can surrender or we can destroy you. The choice is yours."
"SMS Twenty-Two, this is Aries flight." It was a different voice then before. "We surrender. Jettisoning weapons and shutting down electronics."
"Sverdlov you coward!" That was the original voice.
"Christ, he just fired at his own man!" Duo's voice, and a string of chaingun fire extended between two Aries, one of which evaded.
The firing Aries exploded a moment later, hit by Dyer's and Focht's beam fire. "Splash." Focht said.
"Does anyone else want to voice a dissent?" Noin asked, with a politeness that could have cut glass. "Descend to one hundred meters, jettison your weapons, and shut down your electronics." She switched back to the squadron channel. "Three Flight, find that mothership."
"We've got it," Hilde assured her. "Looks like a supertanker."
