Respect between Enemies – The BetanWerecat
Gundam Seed: "Descending Sword" and after. OCs with appearances by canon characters. The actions of Kira, Athrun, and the others have far reaching effects. Ah, interpersonal relationships! What joys they are. Rated T for language and off screen activity. (Reviews are welcomed but not required. This is written only for my own enjoyment. Flaming me will get you ignored.)
Update! And yes, the story does have an end and it will get there eventually.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, trying to work a kink out of his shoulders. He hadn't really appreciated what eight sub-teams of six mobile suits was going to mean in terms of personnel, space, materials or much of anything else required. The old Thoms Team had two six-suit sub-teams and had occupied a single hanger. They'd shared supply storage and logistic personnel with two other such teams.
The new Thoms Team was bigger than that old arrangement all by itself. They had their own supply officer and he had a clerk. They had a pay clerk. Commander Thoms had his own clerk/secretary for heavens sake! They had two paramedics. They had forty-eight pilots and mobile suits. Those mobile suits required a hundred and five maintenance personnel of various types. They were spread across four hangers. The Team had nine different ground vehicles permanently assigned to them and they had drivers and mechanics of their own. They even had their own support shuttle and two mechanics rated to fly it. All in all, the new Team had over two hundred men and women on the rolls. Every one of them had to be fed, properly uniformed, and housed on top of all the rest of their needs - a thought that reminded him they needed a plumber for the NCO quarters women's shower. He tacked one more to-do note to his screen.
It was daunting and somewhat depressing. While he'd gotten to the point where he recognized every face now, he still didn't associate about half the names yet. He missed the intimacy of the old Team of a dozen pilots and less than twenty mechanics. They hadn't had to worry about all these other support people then. They'd shared them with other Teams but they didn't belong to their group. Now they did. And they were all his responsibility.
He was neck deep in training schedules at the moment. None of their new sub-teams were established groups. They were all made up of a mix of surviving veterans and newly graduated cadets from the training schools. While he appreciated the level of trust it represented, he could have done with a better ratio than half and half in that mix too.
The only cure for inexperience was getting the teams out in their mobile suits on a regular basis and putting them through both combat exercises and the unending delights of patrol duty. They had rotated once through what was euphemistically called 'reclamation duty' but what it really amounted to was battlefield pickup. He was actually glad that had happened so early in the Team's formation. Complaints about patrolling could be met with a suggestion of reassignment back to reclamation and that would shut the complainer up for at least a week!
The sound of the office door creaking open gave him an excuse to stay in pause mode a bit longer. Then Yuri Lubbek came striding in with yet more file discs in his arms. Adrian just shut his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look, they'd all go into Commander Thoms' office for a change.
"Not looking won't make these go away you know." Yuri told him with disgusting cheerfulness.
"I have a place you can put them, Lieutenant." He replied suggestively.
"The Commander already knows these are here. Putting them there won't get you out of reviewing them and you'd only have to clean them before you did." His friend replied with a wicked laugh.
"There are days when I really don't like you very well." Adrian groused.
"Yes, I know." The ex-pilot grabbed a handy chair and flopped into it. "But this time, I'm actually here to help. Hand over those schedules and I'll beat them into submission. You need to go through these files and make some decisions on final sub-team assignments. The only rule Lance said to give you was keep the teams even in vets and rookies."
He nodded and pushed the screen he'd been working on around so Yuri could use it. He still wasn't sure why the other had elected to stay in the ZAFT. The lost eye had meant he was never going to be going out in a mobile suit again and Adrian hadn't expected desk work to appeal to him. Yet here he was, acting basically as Lance Thoms' aide and a backup for Adrian. The eye-patch was largely hidden by the hematite hair but it was something he was always aware of even if Yuri himself didn't seem to be bothered by it anymore.
"Oh, and we have one last new rookie." Yuri said quietly.
He looked up, alerted by the tone. "Yes? Did we get saddled with someone's problem child?"
"That depends on how you look at it. I doubt most would consider an Elite pilot, even a green one, a problem child."
"I'm not most people." Adrian noted dryly. "What's the catch here?"
"He's Voril Joule, Yzak's cousin. Well, some kind of cousin, I don't know how close the actual relationship is."
"Yzak's cousin? What did we do to deserve that? Not that I have anything against this kid himself but, hell, who needs Yzak playing mother hen?"
Yuri winced. "Be fair, Adrian. We don't know he's going to be anything like that about this guy."
"I beg your pardon? Are you listening to what you're saying? Excuse me, this is Yzak we're talking about. The original control freak from hell. No, I'm not interested in taking the chance. Look into getting him transferred to his cousin's command."
There was an indistinct mutter from the other side of the desk.
"I didn't hear you." Adrian sang warningly.
"I said; Voril's pulled every string he could to keep himself out of his cousin's outfit. Some of those strings are very big ropes. I don't think we can transfer him out. You aren't the only one who doesn't want Yzak Joule breathing down his neck. He's been transferred at least a dozen times already. Everyone else has been warned by now. I don't think we can come up with a viable reason to move him on."
He just shut his eyes. "Fine, I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to telling Commander Joule to butt out of the Thoms Team! And I thought suggesting he go soak his head got me in trouble."
Yuri smiled weakly and shrugged. Adrian could only wonder what god he'd offended this week. Which ever one it was, they definitely knew how to get even with him! This Voril kid damned well better be worth all the problems he was bringing with him!
Kayla went nearly two hundred miles before she made her first stop. Even then, it wasn't at any standard wayside. Instead, she pulled off the main road onto a dirt side road and went a mile up that to a blind canyon she knew from hunting trips with cousins years ago.
There was a small spring with good water here and a deep overhang that hid her from observation from above. She pulled her gear off the bike. Packing had been a matter of setting up to leave, not to travel, when she'd done it last night and this morning. Now she needed to do some rearranging.
First things first. She changed out of her uniform into much less noticeable civilian jeans and a heavy plaid flannel shirt. She also pulled on the warm sheepskin jacket, boots and gloves she'd picked up to go with her civilian clothes. It was late October now. There was snow in the high country even if it hadn't fallen here yet and the air was crisp. The discarded uniform packed neatly atop the dress uniform in the bottom of the duffel.
She stowed the duffel on the back seat of the cycle and secured it with the safety belt. This left room in the luggage space to arrange her camping gear for a quick set-up tonight. Kayla pretty much had what she needed really but she could use an extra blanket. More to the point, she could use the gossip she could pick up at old Charlie Yellow Dog's ramshackle combination of general store and pawn shop. But Charlie's place was another hundred plus miles up the road. So she didn't linger when she had everything reset on the bike and the water bottles refilled. Despite the time she knew she'd lose there, she was hoping to get well past Yellow Dog's store before she stopped for the night.
The run was depressing. This part of the country had never been strong economically. The war had damn near ruined it. Without inexpensive nuclear energy, a lot of the small technical business that had been spreading out here had collapsed or been forced to move back closer to their supply base. Unemployment, always the bane of the First Nations, had clearly come roaring in like a summer thunderhead and hung on like a ten-year drought. The once busy small towns she remembered along the highway had a lot of empty storefronts and no few empty houses that had held businesses and families when she'd left for the service. She noted bitterly that the healthiest businesses in a lot of places seemed to be the bars.
It was a relief to crest the ridge and drop into the small basin of Four Cottonwoods Creek. Charlie's was close now, up in the heavy stand of trees on the high side of the waterway. As she rolled up, Kayla noted Charlie was bucking the regional trend. The place had gotten a coat of paint within the last year, all sections painted the same color this time. There was a good, new sign out front as well. And the cars in the lot, while not all that numerous, were mostly late models and sporting out-of-state plates.
She nodded to herself sadly. Yeah, the pawn business was booming wasn't it? And if Charlie could afford to redo the old place like this, he wasn't getting the usual hat bands and watches with the odd belt thrown in anymore. Nor would those be bringing the kind of buyers who would drive the sorts of cars parked here.
No, this kind of buyer was looking for collectibles, maybe even for museum pieces. So that meant people were being forced to sell their heritage to survive. Well, better through Charlie than damn near anyone else for a couple hundred miles around. He'd see to it they got a fair price for their loss. It still hurt to know these things were going to collectors and vultures who saw them only as items of status based on price, who did not know or care about the history or the cultural significance of what they were buying. She parked the cycle near the main door and went in.
She stopped five steps inside the door. The paint and sign outside in no way prepared her for the makeover inside. The old pawnshop used to be rather badly lit everywhere but in the display cases themselves. The walls, with their haphazard shelving, hadn't been painted since the Apollo moon shots. And the uneven floors were a physical danger to the unwary. Not only would they trip you, they'd fill you full of splinters when you hit them.
Things had changed. New paint in a warm cream covered the walls. The shelving was neatly laid out and solidly built. The floors were even and sealed under a heavy layer of what looked like a clear polymer, offering good traction and nothing to stick into a knee that might accidentally touch it. The lighting was excellent and indirect. Comfortable and almost shadowless, it illuminated every nook and cranny of the place. And nothing was out where it could be touched or lifted. All the shelves were behind locked plexi panels and the floor displays were inside secured cases.
The security was open and heavy. What she could see, and she had the training to see a lot more than the tourists did, would be more than enough to prevent petty theft. She also knew there was more she didn't see. Then too, Charlie had his own ideas regarding crime prevention that his insurance company probably hadn't a clue about. She could see his Spirit guardians sitting here and there. Stealing from a shaman of his caliber would be even dumber than stealing from someone with this kind of commercial security.
The contents of the shop more than justified the money spent on the security. For she'd been right about the heritage of the First Nations being on sale here. Some of the items she flinched from. You had to be insane to buy some of the medicine things here! Not all of them were friendly by any means!
But the baskets, the jewelry, the beadwork, the leather-crafts, the stone carvings, the dolls and the old, old weapons, those were safe. And what Charlie had here was more than any museum could boast. She was no expert but even she knew many of these things were centuries old. A look in a case reassured her that they were priced like it too!
"Kayla? Kayla Grayhawk?" A harsh voice called in surprise.
She turned to look. There, waving at her from behind the counter, was old Charlie himself! He was grinning like a fool and displaying his contempt for his dentures by not wearing them. He didn't look any different from the last time she'd seen him. The ice-white hair was still thick, long, and worn in two braids for the tourists. If he'd picked up any more wrinkles, she couldn't spot them in among the collection he already had. The black eyes were sharp as ever. She'd swear he was wearing the same sky blue shirt too.
"Charlie!" She cried. "What happened to my favorite dump?"
He threw his head back and cackled like a dying chicken. "What, ya lose yer sight out there in space? I've gone and got respectable, ya fool girl! Who'd ever a thought it at my age? Got fancy folk from all over the planet coming here to buy from me nowadays!"
The old man called someone she didn't recognize over to run the register and hustled her through the shop and into his living quarters in the back. This space hadn't changed nearly as much. It was still cluttered, smelled of old things kept in dusty boxes, and still had the stuffed roadrunner and Gila monster smack in the middle of what was supposed to be the dining room table.
"Sit! Sit! I haven't seen ya in a dog's years! How ya been keepin' girl? How's yer Pa and everyone up to the Double Hawk?"
He shoved a plate of cookies of questionable vintage at her as she evicted a small mountain of newspapers from a chair in order to have a place to sit. He slapped down a large, clean mug in front of her and filled it with coffee. Kayla, familiar with Charlie's coffee, scavenged the sugar and a spoon off the table.
"I've been off-planet until just these last few weeks." She told him. "I haven't even gotten home yet, have no idea how things are at the ranch. I was kinda hoping you'd know. I just mustered out today."
Keen dark eyes studied her. "Ya don't say. Outta the service are ya? And ya ain't called home once since ya landed eh?"
He took a long drink of his own coffee. "Must be one right damn interestin' story ya got to tell."
Kayla shrugged. "Not so much really."
Charlie snorted. "Yer an ace, Kayla. Got a name people know all over the North Atlantic Federation and some beyond. Ya can't tell me Tomahawk walked out after a thirty month enlistment without a damn overpowerin' reason."
She drank Charlie's coffee and smiled grimly. The coffee was a lot like the answer she had for him; too bitter for any sugar to fix. At least he'd understand.
"Yeah, there're reasons." She stared into the dark liquid in the mug. "Let me tell you what really happened in Alaska a few months ago."
Charlie Yellow Dog listened without comment as Kayla dumped a load of anger and grief she hadn't realized was anywhere near that big. He had his 'talking bones' out long before she was done, tossing and reading them as she spoke. She had no idea what they were telling him.
The old shaman was a good listener. His silence and occasional cocked head drew details out of her she'd never intended to give. Indeed, she didn't even notice how much she was saying as the time flew by. Eventually the flood of words ran dry and she just stopped. He refilled her mug with fresh coffee and handed her a one pound box of sugar for it.
"Quite a story," Charlie said quietly, "that's really quite a story, girl."
"Yeah, well, I'm telling you what happened. Whatever you got from the news guys is a lie." She said savagely.
"Oh, I don't doubt it for a second." He replied calmly. "Had a couple other vets come through here these last few weeks. They told stories a lot like yer's. Known those boys since they was in diapers too. All three of ya're good kids, honest kids. I could doubt one, question two, but three now, nah, that pretty much clinches it. 'Specially since there ain't been one single aerial shot of the place at all since it happened. Not one."
Kayla's smile held all the humor of a hungry shark's. "They won't show one. They can't. A Cyclops leaves a very distinctive pattern behind. The proof of their treachery will be written on the Alaskan soil for hundreds of years."
"Unless," she added cynically, "they landscape it away."
"That'll show too." Charlie noted shrewdly.
She sighed. "Yeah, but they can lie about it and no one looking at the landscaping will know any better."
The old man just grinned crookedly. "Kayla girl, that kinda lie never stays hidden. It always comes back to bite the liar in the ass. These Blue Cosmos fellas, they'll get theirs. That kind always does. The pain is in the waiting for their turn to roll 'round."
"Got that right!" She muttered angrily
"So, ya wanna tell me about him?"
"Eh?" The change in topic caught her off guard.
Charlie sighed. "The ZAFT boy, Kayla. The one ya been dancin' 'round all through this. The boy who's scrambled yer brain for ya. And don't be telling me there is no ZAFT boy either! I'm ninety-four; I've seen this kinda thing a time or two before. And I've known ya all yer life. Ya ain't hidin' anything from me. Lemme tell ya, ya ain't gonna hide him from your grandmothers either. Now, ya just tell me, who is this boy and how did he ever scramble up someone as sensible as ya are? And while yer at that, ya might tell me when the baby's due."
She wondered why she bothered trying. Evading the Elders had never worked. Why had she wasted the time going through the motions one more time? Especially when talking to a shaman like Charlie!
"Well, according to his grandfather, its pheromones." She began irritably. "Now that annoying old goat is a genius and an expert in his field so he may be right but it's a very deflating explanation."
Charlie Yellow Dog stared at her, then just laughed.
It was long past dark when she got back on her bike. Charlie had the full story out of her after all, despite her intention to tell no one the details. She'd even gotten out the pictures she had of Adrian and showed them to him. He approved of the 'book of poses' she had supposedly collected for her artist aunt. She'd introduced him to several other people through those pictures as well. He was interested in them all but Adrian, Kira and Athrun really caught his eye. He did a good deal of bone rolling while looking at their pictures. She wished she knew what those bones were telling him but he wasn't sharing that.
Well, at least not with her. He had promised he would call the ranch. So both Grandmother Grayhawk and Grandmother Spotted Horse were going to get an earful from Charlie. She wasn't going to have any secrets there. She could only hope they wouldn't tell Mom or Dad about Adrian. There were four fewer in the family now because of ZAFT; he wasn't going to be popular with her parents. She wanted to get to see how things stood at home before she mentioned anything about him.
She did know Charlie'd decided he approved of Adrian Ito. She knew that because he'd packed her a box while she'd been over in the general store section getting the blanket she'd wanted. He told her it was his wedding present to them and she absolutely was not to open it before hand. The only clue he gave her was a comment that a warrior should look like one. The box was quite heavy. At least he hadn't pulled anything off the shop shelves for it. She wasn't sure she could have handled knowing he was packing up that much history. It did leave her wondering though just what a Ute shaman thought appropriate for a mostly Oriental Coordinator ZAFT Elite mobile suit pilot. In mulling over that question, she forgot that Charlie Yellow Dog also regarded her as a warrior as well.
"Serin! Ha! Where are you woman?"
"At my desk, Roland." Serin's voice came calmly from the intercom.
"Got a message! Says 'The harbor is clear, returning to dock.'"
There was silence for several seconds before her voice came thoughtfully. "So the Atlantic Federation really has left Aube. I'm surprised. They've gone with much less work than I was expecting it to take."
Roland Ito nodded in agreement, forgetting for a moment that the intercom had no vid-plate. "Makes you wonder what they're up to doesn't it?"
"More to the point, it makes me wonder who they've been making deals with." She replied, still very thoughtful. "Remember, there is evidence that the mobile suit program at Heliopolis was a largely private venture in cooperation with Morgenroete. There's a power vacuum in Aube with the Lion dead. His daughter is the presumed heiress but she's only sixteen. That will look very young and usable to some. I know she expects to go home and pick up her father's mantle, just as he wished, but I'm not sure she's ready to manage professional politicians decades her senior. Her brother will stand with her but Kira Yamato, while a lethal mobile suit pilot, is a gentle-hearted political ignoramus. He won't be much real help with them."
"Athrun Zala will." Roland noted. "That boy grew up drowned in politics. He has a very clear and experienced sight for backroom deals trying to pretend to public respectability. Moreover, he cares for her. He'll watch over her interests with a wary eye."
"I know." She sounded troubled. "But that may be a problem. She knows his regard. She may see his advice as jealousy of others."
The geneticist drummed slow fingers on his desk as he considered his daughter-in-law's comment. She had a very good point there. The Athha girl was something of a wild child and very prone to think she knew best. Her headstrong attitude was not going to be appreciated by the men and women used to her father's subtle cunning. It was an attitude a smart manipulator could direct as well. Unfortunately, there would be no major player left in Aube politics who wasn't smart. Working either with or against the Lion would have already winnowed out the fools and idiots.
Serin was likely right about how much help Cagalli would accept from Athrun as well. He didn't know what arrangements they'd come to between the two of them but he knew it would have put the girl in charge and the boy in the subordinate place. Sixteen was young, damn it! And she was following her father, the famed Lion. There would be insecurities and fears of appearing anything less than in complete charge getting in the way. Her intense dislike of having to accept advice that challenged her perceptions was well known. This would also limit how much help anyone was going to be able to give her. And the most limited of all would probably be the one she loved but could not let lead her, Athrun Zala.
"Roland," Serin interrupted his train of thought. "We need an ally. I know we won't find anyone there who would consider the interest of the Plants as we would like but we need whatever honest help from Aube we can get. Lacus Clyne is no fool despite her looks and often simple manners. She still seems to think well of the Plants even though she hasn't much use for the Council. She'll be able to reach Cagalli and Athrun and she knows how to gather information while seeming to be doing nothing of the kind."
"We can not involve Lacus." He said sharply. "She's someone Dee will be watching very closely. Kira Yamato is also off the list for the same reason; he's too close to her. And if the man should ever realize who and what Yamato is, he will become a target in his own right. No, leave those two out of your plans. Quite aside from the dangers to them, consider what happens if he were to track any such communication back to us!"
"Point taken." She conceded. "However, we still need an ally, or better yet, several."
"Yes, I know." He growled. "We need an inconspicuous pipeline for those allies too. We've been a bit too open here lately. Because we needed to make sure we got Adrian and young Thoms home with rank and honor intact, we let ourselves touch the very top ring of Plant politics. It is possible we managed not to be noticed but only a fool would bet the future on it. It would take nothing more than one pair of sharp eyes or a carelessly casual tongue to place us at that Council office with Miranda. If Dee hears of it, he will have us watched. He knows how little I think of his views on genetic predestination."
"Indeed? Why would he bother? You've kept out of his way for the last eighteen years. Why would he feel the need to check up on an issue that old?"
"Because he's not a fool." Roland replied evenly. "He's no more forgotten our last meeting than I have. I promised him if he ever reached for that kind of power, the power to dictate my family's future, I would cut him down like a dog. He believed me then. I don't think he would doubt it now."
The intercom was quiet for several minutes, then Serin replied irritably, "It would have been nice to know about this months ago. There are things I would have done very differently."
He shrugged at the box again. Serin knew him very well. She didn't need to see him to know how he'd respond to her. She hissed once to vent her frustration, knowing there was nothing else to do now.
"So be it. The past can't be changed. Our allies then will have to be connected elsewhere. Lance Thoms is unusable; Dee knows his mother too well. It will have to be people who would have reason to know and communicate with Adrian and Kayla. We have no other options open to us right now. Kayla's background with the Earth Forces will serve us quite well in this. Not even Dee will expect her to sever all ties with home, family, and old comrades."
He nodded slowly, understanding where she was going with this. "Yes, and the friends she's going to have to keep closest touch with will be those in Aube."
"Who can relay messages to and from family and other friends in places where she is no longer welcomed." Serin agreed.
"Can you speak to Captain Ramius? I have a feeling my talking to her would not go well." He asked, his mind beginning to lay out new possibilities.
"I can and will. There are a few others I will try to reach as well. The more legitimate contacts Dee has to look at, the less intent his focus on any one of them will be."
"Do that. And don't tell me who they are either. This may come down to plausible deniability at some point. I want to be able to deny with the best of 'em. I'll see about chatting with some folks that I may not mention to you for the same reason. Between us, we many be able to keep a real eye on Earth yet."
"Earth yes." Serin said slowly. "But what kind of eye can we keep on our own leadership without running into trouble with Dee?"
"For that we'll depend on Miranda." Roland stared at the wall without seeing it. "She's been a part of Plant politics longer than Dee's been alive. He'll expect her to continue as always. Since she's always known when to step back as well, he won't be surprised when she does as he moves forward. In fact, he'd only become suspicious if she vanished too soon or too completely."
"Understood. Now, excuse me please. If they are going in to dock, I need to reach people rather quickly."
"Eh, you and me both." He muttered as he reached for his comm.
