A/N: Took me a while to get this one out. Full-time work really chews away at one's ability to brainstorm away and write. You may have noticed that I changed the rating of this story to M. You see, I'd been hearing that the site was going to start cracking down on stories as it starts taking its ratings policy more seriously. I don't know just how true that is, but seeing as I tend to get risque in my writing, and Cross Ange is a risque series to start with, I felt it better to play it safe.

Addressing the reviews...

KnightOfZaku: Believe me; Arthur is not out of the woods by a long shot. Things hitting the fan is a question of "when", not "if".

Just a reader now a writer: Actually, I did brainstorm a few things down with regards to all of that. In regards to a Vilkiss vs White Glint showdown, the bug did bite me, but I don't have any points down on paper or even a rough outline of when or how it would happen. It ought to be noted that while Arthur is the protagonist of this tale, in the grand scheme of things, he's ultimately a supporting character in the plot.

Laxard: That was more or less a cover Arthur had to explain his (and Kasumi's) presence. At some point, due to circumstances forcing his hand, he will need to keep clean. And, well, let's say not a lot of people will be happy to have been lied to.

On to the story...

He'd been so preoccupied with learning where he was that Arthur had failed to appreciate what it felt like to have a proper shower – with clean water – again. He'd gotten used to rationing water for a little bit of everything – cooling, sanitation, consumption, the whole nine yards – and that meant having to do more with less with regards to cleanliness. In a world wrought by Kojima contamination, this meant resorting to sponge-bathing.

Not here. This world certainly had its woes and dark secrets, but Arthur appreciated being able to feel water running over his skin in a constant stream. The water circling the drain carried all the dust and grime off of him, but it did little to carry his concerns about what to do from here on.

Tempting as it was to simply bide his time on this island and work for Jill, Arthur felt completely certain that alone was not going to get him much headway in finding out what exactly this world's leaders were hiding. He would need to take the initiative in the near future, and that meant hunting for clients among the world's dissidents – with or without Jill's approval.

Rinsing out his hair, Arthur shut the tap off and grabbed the towel off of his duffle bag, drying himself off. The nice thing about keeping his hair cropped short the way he did was that it was easy to dry and maintain. By the time he was done, he was in the plaid shirt and jeans again.

Jasmine had given him the key to a dorm room in the lower levels, close to where his NEXT was docked. The area didn't typically see a lot of traffic, but Arthur suspected that things would change once word of his presence spread more. The room itself wasn't much to look at – it was basically a three by two-meter bedroom with a window, desk, and a single bed. It's not exactly a luxury suite, but Arthur had slept in worse conditions.

Jasmine apparently left a set of books on the desk – it was mostly orientation material that most Norma read through. After cleaning out his flight suit, Arthur sat at the desk and started flipping through the contents, starting with information on the DRAGONs. Apparently, the acronym stood for "Dimensional Rift-Attuned Gargantuan Organic Neotype", and they were ranked in size categories, and the reporting names for the creatures were based on classic sailing ship classifications. The small pink ones, for example, were designated Schooner-Class, and topped out at around twenty meters in length – they were apparently fragile enough to be killed even with infantry weaponry. Brig-Class (short for Brigantine-Class) DRAGONs were also among his attackers and ranged from fifty to a hundred meters. Galleon-Class DRAGONs surpassed a hundred meters in overall length and were capable of directed energy attacks that appeared similar to lightning in appearance, as well as being able to project defensive barriers.

After fighting Arms Forts like Spirit of Motherwill and Answerer, the thought of fighting a Galleon-Class DRAGON didn't faze Arthur as much as it probably would have when he was still a rookie LYNX. As for the history books, they were considerably less useful. Basically, they were textbook propaganda about the Light of Mana – even the League's propaganda was better hidden.

Soaking in a cup of water while Arthur read was one of the squares of hardtack he made earlier in the day – his makeshift dinner before turned in for the day. The exposure to water softened the biscuit, making it actually chewable (there was a reason hardtack was nicknamed "molar breaker" and "sheet iron" back in the old days). It tasted plain in his mouth, but he made no complaint about the taste.

Finally, he read through a few dossiers on several factions compiled by Kasumi. Regarding the anti-establishment movements, some were reinforcing what Sayla said about them, while adding on to it. The movements ranged from merely small groups of philosophers to armed militia.

The two largest groups at present are the Seekers and the Trailblazers, each subscribing to different methods of finding the truth of the origins of Mana. The former tries to reason with the world leaders, while the latter uses military action to apply pressure; neither has made much headway in recent years. Either of these groups could make for good clients.

An hour later, he was asleep, but tossing and turning. He didn't really get much rest that night.

A knock on his door woke him from his slumber.

He muttered incoherently as his eyes adjusted to the light coming from the window. It was sunrise, if only barely. Arthur was surprised that somebody was up at this time; then he remembered that this island was equal parts prison and military base. The Norma that made their home here were probably used to waking up just before daybreak.

"Ugh. Yeah?"

"Excuse me," a young girl's voice came from the other side. "Mister?"

That shocked him awake. He'd sort of hoped the location of his room was not widely known, and that only Arzenal's command staff were really in the know regarding his quarters. But it seemed word leaked faster than he expected. Arthur looked down at himself and noticed he was wearing just boxers.

Very quicky, he got on his shirt and jeans and creaked the door open, noting that there was a lot of chatter in the hall outside. And with at least eight girls lined up in the hall outside his door, it was easy to see why.

"Jesus Christ. What's this? A hotel? What's the occasion?"

"A few of my girls saw you late last night at the Jasmine Mall," the Norma in front of him said. "They never got a chance to meet you. I'm Eleanor, captain of the Second Troop."

"Second Troop…" Arthur trailed. "Right. Jasmine told me that there were three squadrons that rotate. I'm Arthur."

Eleanor regarded him for several seconds, and Arthur extended a handshake. At first Eleanor seemed confused, but then returned the handshake.

"Oh," Eleanor exclaimed.

"Problem?"

"No, it's just…your hand fills very different from a Norma's," Eleanor said with a blush.

"A man's hand," Arthur clarified. "I get it. You've never met a man."

"Most of us haven't," Eleanor confessed. "The only ones who have met a man came to Arzenal later in their lives. Hilda was six when she was brought here."

"Cherry…I mean, Hilda was?"

Eleanor seemed taken aback by the slip of the nickname Arthur pegged Hilda with, but otherwise nodded.

"Thanks for the tip," Arthur said. "I must say, after meeting Zola, this introduction of ours is a welcome change."

"Yeah," Eleanor trailed with a grimace.

It turned out that the entirety of the Second Troop and the Third Troop were outside his door. It was nice to introduce himself once or twice, but after the fourth girl he introduced himself to, it got rather tiring. He counted his lucky stars when the line stopped, and he could just fall back into bed.

Maybe it was a sign that it was time to wake up for the day rather than sleep in. Arthur gave it about an hour, where he figured activity in the showers would be rather mute because, in theory, the dawn patrol should be underway.

He failed to account for the fact that only one of the squadrons was on patrol at the time, so he was in for a surprise when he was cleaned up.

Salia had hit the simulators earlier that day, so that she'd have time later to wind down. She set aside a stall earlier with Jasmine for…well, stress relief. She was clad in her plug suit, having worked up a sweat to improve her performance. She was eager for the day Jill would entrust Vilkiss to her.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to register that the door to the showers was open, and failed to notice the oncoming collision until it was too late. Bashing into something hard, she lost balance and fell backwards, kept from hitting the floor by someone's hand catching hers.

Shaking out the dizziness, she complained, "Watch where you're…you're…you're…"

Her complaint died in her throat as she saw the hand gripping hers. Nothing like a woman's – large, strong, callused through physical labor. Following the arm up, she looked at the face, not of one of her fellow Norma, but of a human man. Specifically, that of Arthur's.

"…where I'm going?" he finished for her.

"Y-yeah," Salia stammered as he gently pulled her back up to her feet. They both blushed when they realized he was bare-chested, clad in only jeans and socks. His shoes and shirt had fallen to the floor.

"Yeah," Arthur said.

"This is all my fault," the two said in unison.

"Sorry. I figured your units were on dawn patrol, so I was just cleaning up," Arthur explained.

"Actually, it's the Second Troop that is on patrol. I was in the simulators," Salia said quickly, hoping that stating the facts and looking away would slow her pounding heart. To her surprise, it actually sped up. Standing this close to him, Salia realized just how much taller he was compared to her and how much stronger his build was.

"I…see. Nothing wrong with brushing up on your skills," Arthur said. "I was finishing up. If you were going to clean up, I'll let you have the showers."

"I…well, actually, I could use the company," Salia said.

"Are you…hitting on me?"

"N-no, that's not it!" Salia exclaimed. "It's just, we didn't get a chance to talk last night, and…well, I'd like some help out of this suit."

Smooth move, Salia…

Arthur didn't seem to buy it, but he simply shrugged and said, "We should get out of the hall before people get the wrong idea."

Arthur ushered Salia in as he gathered his stuff and (reluctantly) helped her in getting off her plug suit. He insisted on facing away from Salia as she showered, and he insisted it had nothing to do with her. His exact words were "It would be unprofessional – not to mention perverted – of me to watch a young lady shower".

That didn't stop Salia from sneaking a few glances at him, however, and she bit her lip as she noticed the cybernetics along his back, right between his shoulder blades. He was covered with several scars – several of them looked combat-related, while others looked like surgical scars.

"I can practically feel your eyes on me," Arthur said as he hastily moved the fabric of his shirt over his body and began buttoning it up.

"I'm sorry," Salia trailed. "Still, doesn't it hurt?"

"Occasionally, if it chafes too much," Arthur admitted. "Mostly, it just itches."

"Why do you even have that?" she asked.

"It comes with the territory when you pilot a machine like mine," he said. "It responds to my thoughts, but when it gets hit, I feel pain. And if it were to be disabled, well…"

He'd die…wouldn't he?

"How long have you piloted that thing?"

"I've only been piloting a NEXT for about a year, now. Before that, it was jets," he said.

Such a short time piloting, and yet Arthur seemed easily able to rival any of the best mail riders – maybe even as good as Alektra back in her halcyon days as a rider. And if the technology that he used to pilot was as advanced as it looked, it was little wonder that any DRAGON would be hard-pressed to defeat him.

"Um, could you hand me the towel I brought with?"

He reached clear on the other side of the bench from where he sat.

"This one, right?"

"Yeah."

Arthur, acting like a gentleman, kept his eyes to the wall as he walked over with the towel outstretched to Salia, which she took.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Arthur said. "So, what's on the docket for the day?"

"Well, we haven't had two Singularities open on two consecutive days in the past. We were expecting the next one today, but…"

"But you met me caught up in the one last night," Arthur finished.

"Right. The next squadron to sortie will be the Second Troop – today, if things resume as normal," Salia explained.

"Damn. You girls don't really catch a break in all this…"

"That's…just how things go," Salia trailed, shutting the tap off and toweling off her hair. She then asked, "What about you? What are your plans?"

"I've got to get to work repairing White Glint," Arthur replied. "Mei seems like a child prodigy with engineering, don't get me wrong, but I still think she'll need some help figuring out what's what on my machine. Plus, I think Jasmine has a few things I could mount on it."

"Do you mind if I come with?" Salia asked. "I was going to get a few things, anyway."

"I suppose. I could use a guide, anyway," Arthur said.

For as infamous as Jasmine seemed to be at charging extortionate prices for her goods, Arthur surprisingly managed to haggle down the prices on the INBLUE and the 04-MARVE, on the basis that his NEXT was the only thing that could mount them. Jasmine was only willing to drop the price by a couple thousand in funds, but Arthur was willing to tolerate that. Every individual note he saved was one he could use for resupply later.

Getting the rest now would put him in the red, so he decided to hold off on buying more. Salia had mostly gotten clothing and essentials. Arthur ran his hand along his chin, noting that a stubble had started to grow in. Times he was able to shave back in his world were few and far between, what with the constant migration he did as a mercenary. Staying with Sayla allowed him to do some catch-up, but that was all over.

He'd have to pay for that stuff, just like everything else.

Eyes were on him in the Mall, and he didn't like it. He breathed a sigh of relief as Salia finished up, and he saw the goods he bought were already being hauled to the lower levels. Every so often after he left, he looked behind him to see if he was being tailed all the way until he got to the dock where his NEXT was. It was held up by what was effectively a harness hoisted from the ceiling. It was quite a clever idea for maintenance; NEXTS may have been sturdy, but they weren't really designed to hold their own weight up when being worked on.

Arthur got to work with Mei, teaching her the basics of NEXT maintenance, and even doing a few things himself. Arthur knew that his NEXT was acting more sluggish than normal for one of its model. With the proper maintenance tools that the dock provided, he found out why, having cleared out nearly three cubic feet of sand, dirt, dust, and other contaminants that got within the joints and actuators. On top of being maintenance nightmares to begin with, 03-AALIYAH production model NEXTS were quite temperamental when external particulates got into the moving parts – GA models (for all their issues) had a large tolerance for wear and tear caused by fouling, and Interior Union NEXTS tended to just be better sealed from the elements.

Between the dust contamination and all of the plating he needed to replace, the repairs wouldn't be complete unless he worked on through the night. Local forecasts of the weather suggested there was going to be a storm tonight, in which case working overnight would be a bad idea. At the very least, Arthur got the FCS swapped out and the SALINE05 dismounted. Finally, he swapped out the 063ANAR for the 04-MARVE. The resulting NEXT looked like Supplice, except without the flares.

Throughout the day, Salia would come and go, and then he had the occasional audience of other Norma pass through. None of them went to the point of bothering him, at least. Still, being fawned over once or twice was surprising, and the third time was amusing. The novelty was already beginning to wear off, however. By the time the sun set, Arthur went to get cleaned up.

As he was moving, he passed by what looked to be the base's infirmary. He could see Ersha and Vivian look through the glass at yet another pinkette that was out cold, bandaged and stitched up from combat injuries. The two flinched as Arthur stopped by them.

"A friend of yours?" he inquired.

"Yes," Ersha said. "Naomi. She was mauled badly by DRAGONs during the sortie before yesterday. She's been in a coma for days, now."

"What are the chances she'll wake up?"

"We don't know," Ersha said.

"The fact we were even able to stop all the bleeding was amazing enough," a voice said, interrupting everyone.

Turning to face the new voice, Arthur was greeted by the sight of a young woman – mid Twenties, if he had to guess – with a mess of red hair kept in check by a yellow Alice band. The long white coat she wore screamed "scientist" to Arthur, but that was undermined by the fact that she wore a short skirt, long stockings, high heels and what looked like a red tube top. She also had a piercing under her lower lip, and she smelled strongly of alcohol.

"So, you're our new resident," the newcomer said, sniffing deeply. "I'm Maggie; lead of the medical staff here. And you smell like sweat and engine grease."

"Yeaaaah…thanks," Arthur drawled out. "I'm Arthur. I was just getting on my way to clean up."

"I'd love to talk, after that," Maggie said. "It gets pretty lonely here without a strong man around."

"Yeah. That's hardly the first come on I've heard since I landed," Arthur said, before glancing back through the glass at the bed Naomi lay in. "Well? What are the chances that she'll wake up?"

Maggie sighed, and got a bit more professional, saying, "Hard to say. We had plenty of blood donors that chipped in, but there still hasn't been much improvement on the monitors. It's been almost a week, already."

"You must have used a lot of resources keeping her alive," Arthur said. "How long until the next supply run?"

"Seventeen days," Maggie said.

"Kid's not going to last that long – not without hoarding all medical resources toward her and away from everyone else…" Arthur determined, clinically. He wasn't the type to sugarcoat anything, so he simply called it like he saw it. "So, we're left with a situation where the needs of the base outweigh the needs of the pilot."

"A-Arthur, how can you be so bleak about it?" Ersha asked, her face filled with shock. The impression Arthur gave her last night was one of a nice, if sarcastic, individual. That image was shaken up with the detached manner with which he gave his assessment.

"Will you cool it? It's just a reality check," Arthur said, defensively. "As far as the mainland is concerned, they are under no obligation to speed up their supply runs, even if one of your pilots is in such a state. Only way she'll pull through is by some miracle."

"I'm afraid the man's right," Maggie said. "I can only devote so much. We could end up having to pull the plug if she doesn't wake up in the next few days."

Arthur sighed, saying, "Just keep an eye on her; that's all we can ask. If she wakes up, she wakes up. It's up to Naomi to fight for her life."

He walked off, with the trio of ladies still eying him.

"I don't get it," Ersha said. "He seemed so nice and full of hope last night. What changed?"

"You get a good look at his eyes?" Maggie asked.

"Gray eyes," Vivian observed.

"Not the color; the look in his eyes," Maggie said. "The eyes just scream shell-shocked. Man's seen a lot of shit."

Arthur put in an order to get a few articles of clothing custom-made so that he wouldn't have to do repair work in denim and flannel all the time. The tank tops he got were oversized by female standards, but they fit him well enough to be used – they were as close to unisex as he was going to get until the sewing jobs were done.

He hand-washed his clothes and tossed them in a dryer while he washed up, and he used one of the tank tops and his jeans when he was finished. He had just gotten fully dressed when the alert came up. The facilities alarms blared, indicating that a Singularity was detected. Arthur was closer to the command center, so he made a dash in that direction.

When he arrived, the command crew was already at their posts, and the glowing lights from para-mail leaving the base told him that a squadron was already away.

Inspector General Bronson looked his way, snapping, "You're not supposed to be…here..."

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him in little more than the tank top and jeans, with a build to die for.

"I don't answer to you," Arthur retorted before taking a few steps up.

Jill was in her command chair, being kept up to date on the sortie. Arthur could make out a few live feeds, as well as IFF tags on the tactical map. The only name he recognized was Eleanor's. Most of the other names he hadn't committed to memory.

"Second Troop…right?" Arthur asked.

"That's right," Kasumi's voice came from the lower deck of the command center.

"Teach," Arthur greeted.

"What's the enemy composition looking like out there?" he asked.

Pamela was the one to answer, "It's a mix of Schooner and Corvette Class DRAGONs. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, but…"

"Two members of the Second Troop haven't seen live combat before – just simulator training," Jill finished.

Arthur swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. There was only so much that simulator training could do to prepare a trainee for live combat, regardless of craft. Despite his own AMS compatibility and Kasumi's training, Arthur went through considerable "growing pains" when he first took a NEXT into live combat. Then his very first NEXT on NEXT battle occurred when he and Wynne took on Don Colonel – it had been a wake-up call on the very real possibility of dying in combat.

It was one thing to disable a NEXT in combat and hear someone's dying words. It was another thing to see what he was seeing right now. He was watching the Second Troop in combat, with live feeds from a few para-mail, and the command center had just lost signal of one of them.

"We've lost Samantha!" Olivier exclaimed. But "lost" was hardly the correct word; she was being crushed in her para-mail and dismembered as the Schooners surrounded her like a school of hungry sharks. Arthur fought down the urge to vomit and turned on his heel.

"They need help," he concluded. "I'm going out in White Glint."

"You'll never make it in time," Kasumi said. "There's no way you'll get to White Glint and complete the power-up procedures before this fight ends."

Arthur bit his lip, angry, because he knew that she was right. He routinely cut corners when powering up his NEXT, but only because he knew for certain that the bypasses were safe. Unless he wanted to risk permanent nerve damage, he wouldn't make it.

All the blood he saw on the cameras stuck to his mind, and he felt so useless just standing there, unable to step in. It was yet another blow to the sick reality of this world he was brought to. All he could do was uselessly watch as para-mail zigged this way and that, transforming and engaging in combat.

The remainder of the sortie passed without incident, and when he caught up with the Second Troop later, it was at the Jasmine Mall. Eleanor had requested a headstone for their lost rookie, with her full name – a Norma was stripped of their family name when brought to Arzenal, known only by given name or identification number, and was only given it back posthumously. Arthur attended the planting of the headstone at the island's quiet cemetery – the headstone that belonged to one Samantha Coleman. She hadn't even reached her thirteenth birthday.

A kid that age…shouldn't have to do this.

Unknown to Arthur was that in the storm that would sweep through later that night, a familiar face would arrive. A result of happenstance? Or would it be part of a greater plan in motion?

A/N: Rate and Review.