"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
- Abraham Lincoln
Chapter XVI: Ashes of Victory
It was a pain he most felt. An indescribable, voluminous pain that ran across his entire body, from the tip of his scalp to his toes. And yet he did not scream. No, he could not scream – at least with his mouth – nor could he physically struggle against it. He could only remain there, his body still and motionless, while crying out endlessly from within. Toward an agony that was as endless as it was vivid, especially to a child such as himself.
Through some effort, he could actually comprehend his present state of form. He was bound to the table, stripped of all articles of clothing. Strange machinery moved over and around him, operating upon his immobile body with characteristic mechanical efficiency. Chemicals were pumped into his veins, while the bed itself seemed to pulsate with some sort of strange energy. A bright white light blindingly shined from above, ironically shadowing the machinery that much more as the operation continued. No, as the affliction continued, for it was very clear that was the cause of his torment. The cause of his suffering.
He wanted to struggle, to force himself against his bindings, but he could not do this either. His body simply would not respond to him. Not even when he tried to force open his mouth, or close his eyes to shield himself from the light. Not even when he tried to twitch one of his fingers, and then one of his toes. Whatever they were injecting into him was too effective. All he could do was lay there, his body stilled and his eyes frozen into the light, with no relief from the anguish. No means to scream, to struggle. Only to remain in excruciation.
It was then that he felt something else. Several additional presences beyond the light, apparently watching and observing as the operation continued. Watching and observing from beyond, which their physical and spiritual forms somehow shrouded. No matter how much he tried, he could not discern how many there were, nor what they looked like nor anything else. He simply knew that they were there, and that they were deeply interested in the operation's progress.
In his desperation he tried to reach to them. Physically attempted to raise his hand, while spiritually he called out to them, begging them to end his pain. As before however, he was unable to move his hand, and whether they actually heard his pleas he did not know. No more than he knew what they themselves felt as they observed the apparent surgery. If they felt anything at all.
Then he did in fact feel something from them. Or at least, one of them. A familiar presence, one that he knew, yet could not quite discern. Only that, as compared to the muted emotions of the others, he could just depict sorrow from within that one. Sorrow toward his present state, and the agony it knew he was enduring.
Yet even it could do nothing for him, which it seemed to understand all too well. Such that it eventually rose away from the others and took its leave, refusing to watch any more. A mild disturbance that the others barely noticed, maintaining their attention. The operation, and the pain, only continued, seemingly unendingly, from then on…
Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Warp
August 11, GC 379
Through blurred vision, Amuro felt his eyes dazedly open. It took a few moments for him to adjust to the overhead light, but once he did, he found to have been his only discomfort. That said, it wasn't hard to figure out where he was: the Ark Royal's sickbay. As though his lying in a bed with nearby medical machinery, as well as well as the other wounded presences around him, weren't indicative enough.
Nor was it hard to remember why he was there to begin with. Anges. They had survived, perhaps even won. It had forced them to the breaking point, at which he was forced to invoke the unholy power within him, but they had survived. And now, as he felt further, they were back in space, limping along on what little power the Ark Royal had left. While the Zeon were nowhere.
We survived, Amuro thought as he continued to lie there, slowly working up the urge to move his body again. Yes, they had survived. He could not keep himself from repeating that over and over, as though it were a mantra. Garma Zabi was dead. Char Aznable was critically wounded. The Zeeks had suffered heavy losses, as did the Ark Royal's forces. Much had been destroyed, and many lives had been claimed on that frozen wasteland. But in the end, they had pulled through. He, and those around him, had survived. Through much power and sacrifice, they lived on. Lived on to fight another day, and perhaps make it back home in the end.
"I was hoping you would wake up at some point," an actual voice spoke as its owner entered, coming up to his bed. "You've been out for three days already."
Amuro blinked as he turned to look up at Fraw. Though she tried to present an air of professional indifference, the Newtype could see the vestiges of tears around her eyes. As well as feel the emotional turmoil within her. "You really gave me a scare," she continued. "When they pulled you out of Unit Alpha and put you in here."
"Was I really that far gone?" Amuro finally managed to speak, as well as make himself rise up somewhat. Though he was not in pain, his body indeed felt heavily strained, like it had been pulled in too many directions at one time. Not unlike what he had felt after Juno – minus the spiritual effects of that particular battle – but much more in depth.
Hearing that, Fraw no longer bothered holding back her tears. "You weren't breathing when they brought you in. Nor was your heart beating," she murmured against the tension. "I almost…"
She trailed off, unable to complete that sentence. All the while her eyes squeezed shut in a visible effort to contain herself. "As I said, you scared me."
Amuro could only blink at those implications. Had his power really brought him that close to the brink? If so, then why had it done so now, rather than at Juno beforehand?
Then he remembered further. Garma Zabi's last attack. It had been but an instant, yet it had drawn him out entirely. He did not know what he had done, or how it had projected through Unit Alpha, but somehow he had managed to hold back the point-blank detonation of an Apollo Reactor. Just enough to keep himself and his mobile suit existent, but relatively intact. As well as active long enough to frighten away the remaining Zeeks.
Now understanding, Amuro could only close his own eyes in solemnity. Through conscious action or not, he really had forced himself to the edge. "I'm sorry Fraw," he found himself saying, though he didn't quite understand why her being shaken by it was more important than his own realization. "I…"
Fraw didn't let him finish. Instead, she knelt down and embraced Amuro, just as she had following the initial attack on Antillia. And just like then, Amuro felt her thoughts and feelings pour into him, with fear and anxiety being the most prominent among them. As well as that one other feeling, which he had always felt within her, yet still could not identify. An emotion, if it was that, that seemed to transcend all others, and was entirely centered on him.
An emotion, he realized, that was similar to what he had felt within Sayla. And himself.
"Please," Fraw whispered into his ear, taking visible comfort in the warmth of his body. "Don't scare me like that again."
At first Amuro didn't know how to respond. Despite the desperation behind that plea, he couldn't quite make that promise. As much as he feared that power, there may come another time when…
And then the images of Fraw's destroyed home and parents' remains flashed in his mind. That was enough for him to understand.
"I won't," Amuro answered, then putting his own arm around her to hold her close. Though still somewhat off putting for him, he knew she needed that now.
Stifling a knowing smile, Fraw took the act, and the promise, for what they were worth. From there, only a comfortable and lasting silence remained.
"We're making progress, but nowhere near enough to get ourselves back into the war, much less continue this Magical Mystery Tour of enemy space," Mirai reported as she and Bright both exited the turbolift and began walking down the deck. "At best we'll keep the ship up and running at patchwork level for ninety-six more hours, a hundred twenty if we're cautious. After that, we have about another day's worth of sublight before we end up adrift."
"If that's the best we do at the moment, then so be it," Bright exclaimed as they moved passed a group of technicians that were at work on one part of the deck. "At least we're moving again."
"I agree sir," Mirai answered back dutifully enough. Not that she had been so attached to Anges that she didn't want to leave it, much less with the Zeeks gone. "But I would feel much more comfortable if we at least had some idea where to go, especially as we're limping along."
"As would I," Bright admitted with a shrug as they moved past yet another group of engineers, who were moving down the deck with some heavy equipment in hand. Both captain and XO gave a wide berth as they came through, briefly watching them before returning to their own trek. "Unfortunately, Earth has yet to return our calls in that area."
"Assuming they got our messages to begin with," Mirai pointed out, finally arriving at their destination. They both entered Bright's office as soon as the door opened, now in relative privacy. "You don't think they're leaving us out here to draw additional fire, are they?"
"I'd like to think not," Bright said as he took his desk chair, while Mirai took her own seat in front of said desk. "If nothing else, I don't think they would sacrifice the last of the Lexington-class for that, no matter how worse for wear she is."
Bright smiled knowingly. "After all, they've had the opportunity to do so in the past."
"As you say sir," Mirai replied with a muted expression. There was some reassurance there, but not much. Arcturus was a long time ago after all, and the war had changed much since then. For all she knew, President Hyran might have come out against them since.
The captain seemed to understand his first officer's thoughts and followed up. "If Odessa really is as vital as claimed, then Admiral Revil is going to need every ship he can bring into his muster," he followed up. "And if not that, then every mobile suit."
That caused Mirai to swallow slightly. Much like with the aftermath of Juno, Unit Alpha's performance therein was something of a taboo subject. "I'm not sure if that's a comfort given our prior circumstances sir."
Bright exhaled through his nostrils to show his agreement. "Neither am I Commander," he admitted, all but shivering at the memories, namely of the White Devil hovering over the battlefield, otherwise unscathed from Garma Zabi's sacrifice.
"This is a weapon that humanity has absolutely no understanding or control over, something that could do irreparable damage to the galaxy itself." Sleggar's words rang clear in his mind, seemingly distant yet quite familiar. And now, further emphasized by the Devil's impossible feats, namely his living through a point blank Apollo Reactor detonation. More and more Bright wondered what exactly the Federation had unleashed upon the universe through Project V, and how much the universe would change because of it.
For the moment however, he bit back his concerns and followed up his initial response. As though he hadn't been thinking about it at all.
"Again if nothing else, it at least means Mother Earth is not yet done with us," Bright spoke with projected reassurance, though he knew Mirai would see through it. "We need only wait a little bit longer."
Mirai did indeed see through the projection, but nodded in acknowledgment all the same. After all she and the rest of the Ark Royal had been through, she just didn't have it in her to press the issue. Or any issues for that matter.
"To absent friends," Sleggar announced, raising his glass with the rest. All reciting, the Ark Royal's surviving mobile suit pilots – save for those who were in sickbay – all took a drink. It was very much a somber scene. "And fair winds and fortune to the rest of us."
"Definitely," Karen muttered as she took another swig. She needed it now, more than ever.
Smiling in understanding, Sleggar asked. "How is Lieutenant Mauris recovering?"
Karen smiled back, though somewhat mellower. "He's awake now," she answered, almost breathing a sigh of relief. "Though it's going to be sometime yet before he's up and moving again, or so Doctor Bow claims."
"At least there's that," Job, who was standing next to his team leader, added on. "He gave quite a scare for a while. As if we hadn't…"
"Yeah," Sleggar agreed, now taking on a sadder smile. Out of their original twenty-seven, nine of their brothers and sisters would never return from Anges. Warhound, Gauntlet and Thunderbolt Squadrons were utterly decimated as a result – between them, only their COs and three others had survived. Only Shrike Squadron had come out "whole", though that didn't mean their members hadn't suffered alongside.
Nigel sighed at this as he swished his drink around. "They fought to the end," he spoke, with confirming nods from Kayra, Daryl, Watts and the two other survivors. "We can ask no more of them than that."
"Indeed sir," Sanders replied with equal solemnity. "Though it's a shame they won't be with us when we return to Earth."
"Don't worry about that Lieutenant," Nigel answered back with reassurance. "They will be with us, in spirit if not physical presence."
"Here here," Kayra exclaimed, raising her glass in acknowledgment. "And in the meantime, I'm sure they'll watch over us when we go back at it. Whenever that will be."
"Hopefully not too soon," Watts sighed, shivering at the idea of having to fight the Zeeks now. Even if they all hadn't been physically and psychologically exhausted, fact was none of their machines were in working order, for obvious reasons. "We're not in any a shape to go back at it, save for a suicide run."
"No disagreements there sir," Job replied. "But at the same time, I don't think the Zeeks are going to give us a break, especially with Prince Garma dead and molecularly scattered."
"I wouldn't worry about that," Sayla at last entered in, causing all attention to shift. "At this time, the whole of Zeon is in a state of shock over Garma's untimely departure."
More than one of their number caught the derision in the Valkyrie's tone, but otherwise ignored it. "They will not make any sudden movements while this remains so," Sayla finished with.
"Exactly," Sleggar patted Job on the shoulder. "So for the foreseeable amount of time, we have a breather. Perhaps even long enough to get ourselves refurbished."
That seemed to be enough for Job and the other doubters to believe. "As you say sir," he answered simply, before downing the rest of his drink.
"Speaking of refurbishment sir," Shiro then spoke. "Has there been any word from High Command yet?"
Sleggar shook his head. "None, unfortunately," he replied, this time with a frown. He wasn't too surprised, to be honest. High Command was notorious for its "communication difficulties", though that didn't exactly make anyone feel better. "But considering all that's happened, I don't think they'll leave us on a limb for too much longer."
"Here's hoping anyway," Michel exclaimed as he took another sip. A somewhat more pleasant thought then crossed his mind. "You think we're famous back home now?"
A collective shrug was the general response. "Would be nice to make the headlines for a change," Kiki replied. "I mean, we only killed a Zeek prince…"
"You mean Lieutenant Ray killed a Zeon prince," Sayla staunchly corrected. Granted, Garma had actually killed himself – or so she had come to understand – but the Gundam pilot felt no need to bring that technicality up. "The rest of you 'merely' fought the horde."
"As if that wasn't an accomplishment in itself," Kayra entered in for Kiki, but otherwise took Sayla's point. "And what about you Lieutenant? I thought you were going to do Aznable in this time around."
Sayla shrugged with projected indifference. "It's a work in process ma'am," she claimed with projected admission. "He took me by surprise in this one. Not something he can easily do again."
"Heh, I bet," Nigel acknowledged bemusedly, before switching back to the original topic. "As far as the headlines go, it's a sure bet that Garma's KIA status is making all the rounds. Whether or not we or Anges et al will be mentioned is anyone's guess."
"Personally I can do without that kind of fame," Daryl spoke up again. "It'll just make us more attractive to the Zeeks…"
Sayla coldly chuckled to this, much to everyone's mild astonishment. "With all due respect Commander, I think you misunderstand," she again spoke knowingly, conspiringly. "While I cannot speak for home, I can assure you that Emperor Gihren himself is well aware of us, and has been since Juno if not before."
She calmly finished her own drink, letting her words linger. "And now that another of the Imperial family has died fighting us," she spoke that much more unnervingly, noting Sleggar's own grim concurrence from the side. "We could not be any more attractive to the enemy."
Zeon Rewloola-class battlecruiser Ralmel
Warp
Through some amount of disorientation, Char at last managed to open his eyes. Between his adjusting sight and his Newtype senses, it wasn't hard for him to decipher his present state and location: he was back aboard the Ralmel, specifically within the Ralmel's sickbay, recovering from all too recent events. A familiar presence was likewise in the bay and, upon seeing his awakening, had come over to his bedside.
"Welcome back sir," Nanai stated as she, at last, saw that her commander was among them once more. Though she didn't express any forward emotion in her face or her voice, Char picked upon her emotional relief, as well as some now abated fears.
Out of reflex he attempted to sit up, but felt no response from his right arm when he commanded it to lift him off the bed. Initially confused, Char looked over to his side to see that the limb was no longer there. Only then did he remember the prior events in their entirety, and why exactly he was now in the Ralmel's medical bay. "How long have I been incapacitated?"
"Three days," Nanai answered, allowing a bit of her relief to break through her voice. No, she hadn't been entirely fearful over her commander's fate, but she had remained concerned over his wounds and their severity. Fortunately the Red Comet remained strong and unyielding, more so than virtually any other Nanai had known. "You were in a critical state for some time."
Char nodded to this. "Yes," he murmured, again gazing at where his right arm used to be. It was disheartening, but not so much; it would be recovered soon enough. Though there had once been a time where a lost limb would remain forever lost, medical regeneration technology had long since been perfected, especially on Zeon. Even so, it had been the arm Char had been born with, and a part of him wondered if any new limb would work as well as the original.
Ultimately however, he knew it was of little concern. What mattered was what he had sacrificed that arm, and much of his body, for. And subsequently why the Ralmel was going where he assumed. "I take it we're on course to Zeon."
"Yes sir," Nanai confirmed, to which Char picked up on her underlying emotions again. This time however, he couldn't quite identify what his subcommander was feeling before she added. "His Majesty has ordered your immediate summons."
Again Char nodded. He knew something like that would occur following Garma's death. The real question was what Gihren's intentions were for that summons. Even Char could not foresee what the "Emperor" had in store for him, at least not now. "And what of Grand Admiral Dozle and Admiral Kishiria?"
Nanai shook her head. "We have heard nothing from either, only your summons before the Emperor."
Char closed his eyes as he digested that information. It was quite the mess; though he had expected such fallout, it was still much to contend with, especially in his physical state. "How long until we reach Zeon?"
"Approximately four more days at present speed," Nanai answered.
The Commander took that in as well. That should be enough time for my recovery, he thought. "Very well, please keep me appraised."
"Sir," Nanai acknowledged, knowing that she had just been dismissed. Giving a salute, she turned and exited without another word. Once more leaving Char to himself and his own thoughts and feelings, at least for the time being.
Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Warp
Amuro sighed as he continued to lie back against the bed, somehow managing not to fall asleep. Though Fraw had cleared him of any ills beyond physical exhaustion, she had insisted that he remain for a little bit longer, just until she verified that there were absolutely no further adversities. Though her official reasoning was that they knew only so much about the system on the Gundam's and their effects on the human body, Amuro suspected that she was just being thorough in her examination. It helped even less that Juno and its aftermath were not too long ago, and Fraw of all people would have remembered.
So, for better or worse, Amuro was confined to his bed, if only for a little longer. Not that he had a problem with it; in his present condition, he doubted he would have been able to reach the sickbay's exit without tottering over, let alone his quarters. In fact, his senses were still almost fogged over, while he barely retained the energy to lift his body off the bed, even if he had wanted to. Whatever truly happened when he invoked his power as the White Devil, it left him very much ragged and depleted. And that wasn't discounting the sheer amount of physical force his body endured as he maneuvered Unit Alpha in that state, or the associated mental stress. How he ever managed to awaken after a mere three days was beyond him, much less remain so even when he felt himself yearn for additional slumber.
He stayed awake all the same however. Whether out of reflex or force of will, he kept himself from drifting back. He had to, he felt, until the one he was waiting on finally…
You really shouldn't push yourself, Sayla exclaimed as she at last entered Amuro's ward. Despite the flatness of her projected tone, Amuro could easily depict her bemusement. We can always talk after we have both fully recovered.
Amuro raised an eyebrow as he looked over to her. Up front, he never would have guessed Sayla had been as strained as he, much less wounded in some way, not even after her fight with the Red Comet. Then he remembered that she had been knocked out during said fight. I've been pushing myself since Antillia, so it makes little difference to me, he answered back. Besides, I really wanted to see you.
Though he couldn't be sure, Amuro just thought he felt a responding tinge of feeling well up within Sayla. However, she was just as quick to force it away, at least before it became a hindrance.
I'm honored, she replied, before taking a seat beside his bed, biting back her own strain in the process. So, what does the Hero of Anges wish to talk about?
Amuro nearly flinched at that title, which had obviously been Sayla's intent. Better than the White Devil I suppose, he retorted back, ever so dryly. Though I can hardly take credit for Garma, since he technically killed himself trying to kill me.
A lot of people, starting with the crew of this ship, feel differently on that, Sayla shot back with further bemusement. It was from your singlehandedly forcing him, and the rest of his forces, back that caused Garma to make his attempt. And even then, what matters more is that you survived against him, regardless if you performed the actual deed or not.
A small smile came upon her lips. You should feel proud. It's not every day one bests such a powerful opponent, as well as a member of the Imperial line.
Says the Valkyrie of Riah, Amuro responded. Who made a name for herself slaying a certain other Zabi in her first battle.
Sayla minutely recalled the event in question. After all that had happened since then, Riah almost felt like ancient history now, though that didn't stop her from projecting her pride. I earned a promotion and a silver star for that accomplishment. I imagine they'll give you something quite similar.
Despite her intentions, Amuro seemed dismayed by the notion. I see… he answered back, his mind focusing elsewhere.
Sayla did well to notice this. But that's not what's truly on your mind, is it?
Amuro closed his eyes. No, he admitted straight out. Though I wish it was that simple.
A very brief silence then intervened before he elaborated. You told me before that I was not a monster. That while this war has done much to me, but it had not stripped away my humanity.
I did, yes, Sayla confirmed. And I still believe it.
Despite her intent, Amuro only sighed. I wish I could as well, he answered. I did before, but now, I don't know. I just don't know.
He opened his hand to look at his naked palm. This power, whatever it is, isn't simply getting enraged or determined to win, he paused to consider his words. It…it's like an actual demon lives inside me, and every time I go into a fight, it tries to take over.
The Gundam pilot then closed his hand. This is the second time it managed to do so, he said. And just like at Juno, it felt like I became something other than when it emerged, something terrible and horrifying to behold.
Amuro closed his eyes as he bit back the coming tears. Something that wasn't the boy you found at Antillia…
Yet one more pause as Amuro fought to keep himself composed. I'm afraid, Sayla. I'm afraid that I really am the White Devil.
It was only then he turned to look at her directly. Sayla didn't need her Newtype powers to depict the naked fear in his eyes. That…that I really have become a monster… he telepathically murmured. No…that I have always been…!
Sayla reached out to grasp his still clenched hand, causing him to stop short. All the while Amuro's own eyes became filled with Sayla's sapphire gaze. You are many things Amuro, Sayla stated firmly, but with projected warmth. Many wondrous and extraordinary things. Perhaps even things that are not necessarily human.
Her smile deepened. But a monster I remain entirely unconvinced.
That seemed to reassure Amuro, much to Sayla's satisfaction. You should give yourself more credit. Yes there is power inside of you; a power that is at this point unfathomable, perhaps even as terrible as you fear it to be. Yet for all that it has done, whether by your will or its own, it has obviously failed to corrupt you.
She then took an almost conspiring expression. Very few can attest to that, she stated all too knowingly. In fact, far too many, even among Newtypes, have lost themselves to such influence.
Still… Amuro answered back with a tinge of weariness.
Sayla softly squeezed his hand. Devils are rather fascinating creatures, she went on. Every form of mythology has some iteration of them, each with its own origination and design. Yet among all of them, there is one common element.
Upon Amuro's questioning gaze, Sayla retained her smile. They are all creatures of wanton chaos and destruction. The very incarnations of evil given form, whose collective purpose is to go against all that is good in the universe and to damn and destroy as many souls along the way.
Sayla's smile deepened as she then added. Do you think such creatures could be so reluctant? So hesitant to perform their ill deeds? Would they even capable of fearing their own power, as well as the death and destruction that they may wrought?
The Gundam pilot shook her head to emphasize. No, for that would go against their very nature, as well as their being the darkness to Divinity's light, she finished with. Devils, no matter their color, think nothing of their deeds.
She squeezed his hand again. This is not the case with you in the least, Sayla continued. For all the death and destruction you have wrought, you do not thrive on it, nor does it define you. Only out of necessity do you kill and destroy at all.
And yet, Amuro let out, swallowing. To be able to kill so many, to destroy so much…
Indeed that piqued Sayla as well, though she did well not to show it. It was something that she could, and would, look into later, when she gained the opportunity. For now however, it was an unnecessary subject matter.
Irrelevant, she answered, perhaps a little more forcibly than she intended. What matters in the end is that you have not succumbed to your power, have not become engrossed in the destruction you cause. As is completely opposite of a devil.
She then added. As is completely opposite of those we fight against.
Though that seemed apparent enough, something within Amuro couldn't help but feel that there was more to that last sentence than Sayla was letting on. However, he ultimately decided not to think too much on it. Especially as he felt his consciousness begin to haze again.
Sayla seemed to notice that as well, as she flashed a grin of bemusement. Amuro had finally eased up enough that his exhaustion was taking hold again. Rest assured that, in spite of your apparent gifts and your moniker, you remain quite human Amuro Ray.
The Valkyrie then took on a more chiding tone. For better or worse.
Amuro did well to note that tone, and those last four words. Needless to say, he still had doubts, but for the time being they were abated enough. I'll take that for what it's worth.
As you should, Sayla retorted with a light laugh as she gently had him lay back again. Sighing once more, Amuro could only give into his exhaustive state. As much as he wanted to talk with Sayla that much more, he just didn't have any strength left.
We'll talk later, Sayla reaffirmed, caressing his cheek. For now, rest and regain your strength.
Nodding slightly in acknowledgment, Amuro closed his eyes once more, allowing himself to drift away. Only when he was completely dormant did Sayla stand up again and depart the sickbay.
Stepping out into the open corridor, Sayla let out a quiet sigh to herself as she started back to her quarters. Things were getting increasingly more complicated, and at a much greater rate than she would have liked. As though defeating Zeon and avenging her father hadn't been difficult enough by themselves.
It was a strange turn of events to say the least. When she first joined the Federal Forces, the former Princess of Zeon had intended to keep focused on her vengeance and nothing else. She had never cared for the Federation or the other inner worlds beyond their serving her own interests. And though she remained sympathetic to their citizenry, they were still far removed from her. One who, by blood and iron, held the right of power and rulership.
She fought for them, yes. Just as she had sacrificed much for them along the way, and would likely sacrifice more as the war continued on and Zeon remained unhindered. At the same time however, she had no wish to be among them, at least beyond what was necessary. This extended once more to those she would fight alongside, and had remained so since she joined the war effort, such that she could count the number of the Ark Royal's company that mattered to her with her fingers. And of that number, only three truly mattered to her.
No, it wasn't hatred she held toward them, much less the desire to see them wiped away. But at the same time, it wasn't love she held for them either. At best they were baseline humanity, the various segments of the race that were neither enhanced nor corrupted by natural evolution nor artificial engineering. The pure and oft feral strains of humanity that remained unblemished in physical and spiritual form, but unremarkable as well.
At worst, they were the very sub-beings that she and the rest of Zeon had long disdained. Lesser creatures that feared and dreaded all that they could neither comprehend nor understand. Self-proclaimed sentients that had vilified Sayla and her civilization, and all that they represented for being better. Lower lifeforms that her ancestors had spent centuries placating – often at great personal cost – in order to maintain peace and order, which these so-called "naturals" claimed to hold dear themselves.
How many times, she wondered, had the galaxy moved unto the brink, only for Emperor Gwadan and his descendants smooth over the tensions? How many times had these "pure", "untainted" creatures nearly brought about their own annihilation, while arrogantly proclaiming themselves "superior"? It was true folly given form, and Sayla felt a part of herself writhe at the knowledge of her family having to bribe and beg such vermin to keep them back from destroying themselves, and the rest of the galaxy with them. If only they really knew the truth, the complete truth. Not that it would have made much difference, she suspected.
In any case however, they had turned useful to her when Gihren at last brought upon them the war that so many of their ancestors had sought. Thus Sayla had been willing to fight in the same trench as them – to borrow from another Earth adage – but had only done so as far as avenging her father was concerned. Otherwise they remained as beneath her as before the war's beginning; beings that she would only have contact and association with as necessary to her revenge. Anything else would be superfluous at best, and hindering at worst.
At least, that's how it had been at the beginning, when she had first taken up the name "Sayla Mass". Now however… she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that there were those who mattered to her, in spite of inhibitions. Once again they weren't many a number, but they mattered to her all the same. Commander Law, the brash ace removed from time, who she trusted with her life and identity. Fraw, the talented young doctor who represented all that Sayla had aspired to be once upon a time. And Amuro…
She could only smile at the simple thought of him. While she did not know what long-forgotten lineage Amuro Ray stemmed from, it had produced something truly extraordinary regardless. A being of great power – power that was beyond even her understanding – yet confined in such an imperfect shell. One who should have represented all the flaws and weaknesses of the Earthen strain of humanity, yet somehow retained unforeseen strength and will, even when his being a Newtype and the White Devil were both discounted.
Indeed, she had never met one such as him, not even back on Zeon. That last thought almost made her laugh. Most of her kind would have discounted Amuro for his apparent imperfections, disregarding him as another Earthnoid commoner and giving him no further thought or recognition. A true shame, as such presumption not only spoke ill of Zeon, but would have easily overlooked an entity of rare quality, one that Sayla feared would not be found anywhere else.
Of course, there was a dark side to that line as well. While Sayla knew what Zeon would have likely seen of Amuro, at least before he became the White Devil, what did the Federation see him as? Surely he was not involved in Project V at random; there were far too many coincidences for that to be true. In fact, the odds were better that Flanagan had long taken notice of Amuro's Newtype potential, and was somehow involved with him as well.
That was when Sayla recalled a preceding image from not too long ago, the one that emerged when Eledore triggered Amuro's haphephobia. It was still vague to her, but she could just remember what appeared to be a younger, perhaps infantile Amuro lying subdued, yet very much aware, as shadowed forms worked upon him. The latter in the clear and concise manner of a medical operation.
Yes, there was something there, something essential. Unfortunately however, she had no way to pursue it for more information, nor did she have any means to do so in reality. As such, Sayla could only dismiss such thoughts for the time being, as it would do her no favors to ponder them further. At the same time however, it would not be the last time she considered them, especially when the Ark Royal returned to Earth. Whenever that would be.
In the meantime, she would remain close to Amuro, as well as Commander Law, Fraw and the rest. There was still a gulf between them and her, but in spite of that, Sayla remained willing to fall in with them, as well as fight beside them. To see the Zabis cast down at long last, to see that those she valued survived the war and, as had become more prominent since Juno, to see the betterment of one in particular…
It wasn't exactly the cheeriest song ever created, nor was its originator band as renowned as the Pacifists, the Flemmings or the ever legendary Lacus Clyne. Yet between its solemn melody and the almost subdued tones of its twin sister singers, Sleggar couldn't help but feel that "Silent Voice" by Moon Moon was an all too perfect background, especially for the present mood throughout the ship. It certainly fit Sleggar's present mood at least.
As it tended to following major fighting, the war seemed far and well away from him and everyone else aboard, a feeling that "Silent Voice's" tone wholly emphasized. It even tempted one to hope that the war would remain away completely, becoming little more than a terrible memory as the Ark Royal continued her aimless journey to the soft, solemn music. In spite of that however, Sleggar wasn't so deluded as to truly believe such a thing were possible, any more than he would believe Rasara and Sasara Moon would stage a very private, very mature rated "performance" for him. Not that he wouldn't have welcomed either if given the option of course.
In any case, he was alone now, lying against his bed as the Moon sisters went about their dual requiem. His eyes firmly closed, he could almost feel himself begin to drift away, though not enough that he could actually fall asleep. He had too much in his head for that, so for the moment he settled for "merely" being relaxed and alone but to his own thoughts. Everything else would come soon enough, especially now that he wasn't being shot at by Zeeks.
Well, that would have been his intention at least. Unfortunately that all went up in as much smoke as Garma when Sleggar's ears picked up the whishing sound of his quarters' doorway opening. A pair of bootfalls soon following, the CAG felt his brow furrow in response. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who had just come in.
"I hope this isn't going to become a habit with you," Sleggar stated, taking on a hinting smirk when he added. "That is, unless you came here for non-work related reasons…"
"Not in the least," Mirai answered back. "And I'm not here for the music either."
His smirk flattening, Sleggar let out a sigh as he reached over and lowered the volume on his audio player. "You always were a killjoy," he chided while sitting up to face her. "So, what's up?"
"Not really much," Mirai shrugged as she moved to sit down at Sleggar's desk. "I just got off my watch, so I thought I would check in to see how you and your pilots are doing."
"About as well as you would expect," Sleggar replied. "We're all tired, and some of us remain in mourning, but we're still here otherwise."
He then nodded in return. "How about the crew?"
"More or less the same," Mirai admitted. "Some of them are still recovering from the Azure, if not the friends they themselves lost at Anges. But as you can see, the ship is still up and running."
"For the time being," Sleggar added on, somewhat grimly. "Any word from Command yet?"
The XO shook her head. "Nothing," she answered. "And we've already sent three follow ups since the first transmission. Unless it got hit while we were away, Earth has undoubtedly heard our plight by now."
"Great," the Gundam pilot sighed again. Somehow he knew the brass back home would take their sweet time, like they always did in situations like this. "In the meantime, we're barely limping along and all but completely open for another attack, from Zeon or anyone else."
"It could be worse Sleggar," Mirai responded somewhat pointedly. "You of all people should understand that."
"I do, trust me," Sleggar countered. "But that doesn't mean I appreciate our present state of form."
He then decided to concede a little. "Outside the fact we're still moving and we're not presently getting shot at anyway," he admitted. "And all things considered, we came out of this one fairly well."
"Much better than Arcturus I imagine," Mirai posited.
It took Sleggar a moment to remember Mirai hadn't been in that particular battle. Which was a good thing as far as he was concerned, given what had occurred upon the Red Comet's run. There was no way he could…
"Much better," the CAG emphasized. "But remember part of the reason the ship was saved was because we got close enough for pick up. That's not the case this time."
"No need to remind me," Mirai retorted, sighing away her exasperation, or at least part of it. "If anything, it feels like we're even further away from home than we were before."
"We're certainly not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure," Sleggar exclaimed as he moved over to a nearby cabinet and withdrew two glasses and a bottle of Earth whiskey. Neither was exactly regulation for one of his rank and position, but that hadn't stopped him before. And he wasn't a heavy drinker anyway. "You think we'll at least reach Oz at the rate we're going?"
"Only if we get out of the twister to start with," Mirai exclaimed, taking the offered glass without objection. Taking a much needed drink, she sighed again. "What the hell are we doing out here Sleggar?"
"Just the usual Mirai," Sleggar dryly answered as he sat down again, taking a swig of his own. "Exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no man has gone before."
He then smiled humorlessly as he added. "Oh yeah, and acting as a proverbial bug lamp for the Zeeks…"
"While Admiral Revil and the Feddies from Earth prepare for the Odessa tour, yes I remember that much," Mirai exclaimed again. "What I meant was what could have possessed us to actually follow that command? Rather than tell Earth to do something anatomically incorrect with it and then warp away to Fortuna or Atlantis?"
Sleggar raised a bemused eyebrow. "Are you advocating desertion in a time of war, Commander Yashima?"
Mirai smiled sweetly in return. "Only in the face of insurmountable odds and questionable leadership, Commander Law," she answered back with an equally sweetened tone.
That earned a laugh on Sleggar's part. Yet again he recalled the many reasons he had fallen in love with her, as well as some lingering remorse toward their not being married in the present. However, he forced it down, not wanting to ruin a pleasant moment. Especially with the woman he still loved.
Yeah, he thought warmly, his earlier inclination toward the Moon sisters now feeling distant to him. Sorry girls, but there will always be one woman for me. And one alone.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. There had been another, Sleggar knew all too well. However, as the memories of that other began to reemerge, he again forced it all away. That, more than anything else, would have ruined the moment entirely.
"Well then," Sleggar raised his glass. "To the officers and crew of the Earth Federation Starship Ark Royal. Wealth and glory to them all."
"In spite of their lacking common sense," Mirai matched the raise. Both then took a long, hard drink.
Feeling his eyes hazily open, the first thing Eledore saw was the light above him. That and the equally hazy headache he was nursing told him he alive, specifically in a bed in the Ark Royal's sickbay. For a moment he wondered how exactly he had gotten there, but fortunately it didn't take him long to remember. Not long in the least.
The image of that thrice-damned Zaku going after the love of his life's wounded Hellfire, followed by his leaping in to take the oncoming axe. The culmination of the Zeek's attack, his own mobile suit shuddering as it was nearly cut in half, followed by Karen's frantic calls to him as his vision blackened. Overall it had been a gallant but ultimately stupid move in hindsight, one that he hadn't expected to come out of in singular piece, much less alive. Given his present surroundings, he guessed there had been enough of him left to survive, though he couldn't quite tell exactly how much was left…
"Took you long enough dumbass," he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again exclaim from the side.
Smiling in turn, Eledore closed his eyes once more and relaxed. "So much for ending up in Heaven," he spoke ironically. "I guess this means my eternal torment continues."
"You're damn right it does, and it just got twenty-five percent more painful," Karen retorted as she remained sitting next to his bed, barely holding back her relief at seeing him awaken once more. "That's what you get for that idiot stunt."
Eledore laughed at the irony. "Can't argue against that last part," he answered as he tried to sit up, only for his body to strain against him. He could already tell he was on some sort of pain reliever. "I take it I got hurt worse than I feel?"
"To put it mildly," Karen answered, feeling the standard tinge of ire with her relief. "Count yourself lucky. You were almost hamburger back there."
"Happens to the best of us ma'am," Eledore responded blandly. He then raised his arms, feeling even more relief to find that his hands were still there.
Smiling lightly, Karen shook her head. "Outside a rather fair number of burns and lacerations, you came out intact enough," she explained. "Doctor Bow emphasized that your hand coordination isn't afflicted."
Her smile took on a more sarcastic tone as she added. "Not that your music doesn't suck enough already."
"Laugh now Lieutenant," Eledore shot back in a matching tone. "What I do with these hands is going to keep us fed when this damn war is over with and we get cut loose. Maybe even gain us some real fame and fortune along the way."
"Two things wrong with that statement," Karen pointed out. "First, you assume I'm going to still be with you at that point…"
"After what just happened to me?" Eledore responded in mock incredulousness. "With all due respect ma'am, not only will you still be with me then, but you're going to have a very fancy ring…"
"And second," Karen interrupted rather abruptly. "You assume this damn war is ever going to end."
A rather long silence intervened on that one, as Eledore took a more melancholy expression. "It will end Karen. And it will be our victory," he whispered, his hand reaching out to hold onto hers. "In fact, I'm a lot more optimistic of it now."
He then ran his thumb along the top of Karen's hand, which he knew from experience she enjoyed. "I've been out for a while. I don't know how we survived Anges, or how badly we got hit or how much we returned the favor. But apparently we are, in fact, still here."
"More or less," Karen answered, wondering if she should add that Garma Zabi was also dead at Amuro's hand. She decided that could wait until later.
Eledore nodded, deciding he would ask the finer details on that later. "To me, God, Lady Luck or whatever hasn't abandoned us just yet. Any more that he or she has thrown in with the Zeeks."
He then, in a rather awkward gesture, brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, causing a red tinge to emerge on Karen's cheeks. "We'll survive this bastard of a war Karen, and much more, we'll win it," he spoke with utmost faith. "We've come too far now for anything else."
That certainly caused Karen to pause, and with a rather stunned expression. Not just because such words were highly uncharacteristic coming from her boyfriend and subordinate, but also, for all the reservations she still retained, she dared believe.
Inwardly smirking at his handiwork, Eledore then decided to do one last thing. "Besides, how could we ever come close to losing?" he continued as he reached out to grab Karen's right breast. "When we have our very own Goddess of Victory?"
Between those words and his touch, Karen could only close her eyes and smile in surrender. The pervert had earned that, and much more when he was fully healed.
"We still have a long way to go dumbass," she responded, eventually taking his hand off, though she still held it in her own. "Don't jinx us in the meantime."
Exhaling another long sigh, Michel continued to stare blankly at the datapad in front of him. Outside of two specific words – well, one word and two initials – and a blinking cursor, it too was largely blank, in spite of his best efforts to try otherwise. Additional words just seemed to not come to mind now, no matter how much he tried. It would have been aggravating had he not been as exhausted as he was.
Dear B.B… he recited for what had to have been the hundredth time. That was as far as he got on his latest message to her, and had been for the last hour or so. It was a strange feeling to him; for all that he had just endured and experienced, he should have been able to write the message in full. He certainly had been able to in the past, but then this was the first time he had tried to write her after a battle as close as Anges. Perhaps it would have been better for him to wait a little longer, though that in itself was frustrating enough, especially given the aimlessness that he and the rest of the Ark Royal felt now. His writing to B.B. was supposed to take his mind off of such matters, as it had done in the past.
Sighing again, he forced himself to look away from the datapad and take a much needed sip of lukewarm coffee. At the very least he pretty much had the mess hall to himself. Most of the crew, as well as his fellow surviving pilots, were off duty at this time, either at rest or spending their time in some sort of leisure. Between that and the fact dinner had just been finished, there were no other souls within the mess outside the kitchen staff. That would have suited Michel just fine, as it would have allowed him to complete his next letter in peace, but again he just couldn't get any words together. And judging by the temperature of his coffee cup, he could tell he had been there for some while already.
"Damn it," he hissed, his hands balling into fists as his mind remained as blank as the datapad. "Damn it."
"Writer's block Ensign?" Shiro observed upon entering the mess himself.
Michel shook his head in frustration. "Yes sir. Military grade," he responded as Shiro went over and gained a coffee cup of his own. "And it's damn irritating."
"Heh," Shiro just stifled a laugh. Between the lack of written dialogue, sarcasm and the curse, it was easy to see how off his game Michel was. "Happens to the best of us, especially after all we just went through."
"I understand sir, it's just…" Michel sighed yet again. "It's usually a lot easier than this."
"I know," Shiro replied as he took a seat across from the young Ensign. "As said though, we went straight through Hell not too long ago and are still recovering from it. Not exactly the best mindset to write back home with."
"So I'm finding out now Commander," Michel groaned as he rubbed his temples. In the end he gave in and turned off the pad. "It would probably be censored to the first two words anyway. And that's assuming it even reaches Earth."
"All ye of little faith Ensign," Shiro retorted bemusedly as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the watch. "I'm sure wherever we end up next, we'll be able to pass messages along."
"I hope so sir," Michel said as he took another sip, discreetly eying the Zeon timepiece. "It would be nice not to be entirely cut off from home."
He then nearly stammered as he realized what he had just said. "Uh, I mean, cut off from Earth sir! I didn't…!"
"Relax Ensign," Shiro replied understandably. "Earth is pretty much my home as it is now."
Michel didn't bother hiding his sigh of relief. He soon found himself eying the watch again, feeling uneasy toward it. "If I may ask sir," he spoke up again after a rather long moment of silence. "Are the rumors true?"
Shiro let out a light laugh on that. "Which rumors Michel?" he inquired. "The ones that claim I collaborated with the enemy? Or the ones that claim I fell in love with her along the way?"
"Uh…" Michel again stammered as he tried to come up with an acceptable answer. Unfortunately he had about as much luck with that as he had with his letter to B.B.
The DCAG decided to cut his subordinate a break. "Yes, I got this watch from a Zeek," he explained. "My chronometer was broken, and she was kind of enough to give me hers after I patched her up."
"With all due respect sir, the rumors also claim that that was no regular Zeek you got that watch from," Michel added on. "Was she…?"
His turn to sigh, Shiro nodded. "Yes," Shiro confirmed. "Aina Sahalin."
"The Azure Witch," Michel finished, recalling the ace in question. Not only one of Zeon's most prominent female aces, but also said to be an experimental mobile suit pilot that had flown suits featuring cutting edge technology. It was also said that she was of noble birth, or the Zeek equivalent of such at least.
Shiro nodded. "For what it's worth, I did try to kill her at the start," he admitted. "She was piloting a Zaku with some kind of enhanced leg configuration, and she took out my team along the way."
"Yet you didn't," Michel pointed out, only to realize what he had just said. "Sir."
Shiro took it in stride. "I managed to take down that Zaku, but my Guncannon got trashed as well," he continued. "We ended up both drifting into the remains of a nearby cruiser, where our shootout continued."
He frowned toward the memory. "Her pistol ran out of power near the end, and somehow it just didn't feel right killing her thereafter."
A rather strange explanation coming from the last survivor of Hera, Michel mused to himself. At the same time however, it did sound like something his superior would do, even against a dreaded enemy like the Witch. "The rumors also claim that you were spotted arm in arm floating in the void, sir," he pointed out. "Right as either side came to pick you up."
"Heh," Shiro laughed again. "Well, that one I can't help. A lot happened in between our conclusion of hostilities and our respective extractions."
I bet, Michel thought but didn't say aloud. Even with rank aside, it just wasn't his place.
The Lieutenant Commander seemed to pick up on it, nodding his approval to his subordinate. "Fortunes of war Ensign," he said as he at last put the watch away. "As the saying goes, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy."
"As you say sir," Michel found himself concurring. "And thank you."
Shiro gave another responding nod. "Think nothing of it Michel," he answered back simply, allowing the silence to return thereafter. Fortunes of war…
"Damn it to hell!" Job shouted as he was almost threw down his cards in frustration. "You're a real cheating bastard Kai!"
"I prefer to think of myself as 'gifted'," Kai answered back with a grin while taking in the latest pile of chips. "As well as increasingly rich."
Sanders couldn't help but laugh at that comment. "Yeah well, enjoy the moment Kai, because you never know when you're going to come up short," he then gave his subordinate the evilest eye. "Or do you?"
At that, Kai feigned astonishment. "Why Lieutenant, are you accusing me of actual cheating?" he retorted, then drawing up his sleeves. "I'm offended, to even insinuate that an officer of the Federal Forces is capable of such heinousness!"
"Please Kai. Your mere presence is heinous enough," Kiki added on as she reshuffled the cards and dealt anew. A frown then crossed her expression upon her handing out the last card. "Not that it really matters. Until we reach civilization in some form, all the money in the universe won't do any of us good."
"At least it gives us something to do," Job offered as five tossed in chips. "I mean, when the alternative is tonight's feature presentation, as selected by Commander Stepney…"
"Please, not while I'm drinking," Kiki exclaimed around her cola can. "Who the hell is Rin Iogi anyway?"
"One of those retroactive 'classic holo' directors," Sanders exclaimed. "The kind that couldn't get a following in his heyday but is appreciated now for whatever reason."
He did his best not to recall what he had seen of that particular director's works. "Commander Stepney and far too many others see him as a visionary and a deity."
"I take it he's one of those types that enjoys killing characters off in highly unlikely ways?" Job inquired.
"To say the least," Sanders said, before admitting. "But then, at least he's better than what Commander McGuinness picked for the previous holo night. I'm still getting over his choice."
Kai grinned at his superior's discomfort. "Not fond of the more modern classics, eh Lieutenant?"
Sanders responded with a wry grin. "Somehow I don't think With Shining Blue Fire is widely considered a classic Kai," he exclaimed. "But then, I'm not one for chick flicks."
"Which Commander McGuinness is a little too much for by contrast," Kai acknowledged, then looking back toward Kiki. "Two."
"Two," Kiki repeated as she switched out the designated cards. "Lieutenant?"
"Two as well," Sanders answered, switching out his own cards.
"Three," Job added on.
"Two," Hayato requested.
"Alright, and two for the dealer," Kiki stated as well, then beginning the betting process.
"Bet fifty," Kai started.
"Call," Sanders added his chips in.
"Call and raise," Job said, throwing in another chip. "Bet a hundred."
"Call and raise as well to one fifty," Hayato announced, looking at his chips before throwing them in. "As stated, none of it is doing us any good now."
"Don't worry about it Hayato," Sanders spoke reassuringly. "I'm sure we'll all be getting plenty of back pay at our next port of call."
"Any guesses where that will be Lieutenant?" Kiki inquired.
Sanders shook his head. "Not the foggiest," he exclaimed, looking over his cards one last time. "Though it will obviously be a place where the ship can get fixed up, which means it won't be entirely backworld."
He smiled hintingly. "I'm sure we'll all have plenty of places to spend our hard earned cash. Assuming we don't all lose it now of course."
"Sure Lieutenant," Job agreed. "But the question remains when exactly we will be directed there. Not to mention if we're still around to receive those orders."
Sanders shrugged, knowing better than to try and answer that. "Well, as you said Job, at least we're occupied in the meantime," he commented, smirking at his hand. "And it's not like we're being unproductive."
"Which is a very good thing," Kai spoke up again, once more in his smarmy tone. "Because even in the Galactic Century, idle hands are the Devil's workshop."
He then laid his cards down for all to see. "Full house, Jacks over Tens."
Yet another round of groans – alongside some murmurings on "should have just gone for the holo, Rin Iogi be damned" – as Kai again swept in over the pot.
It was the same recording he had received just three weeks ago. The same footage of the Noa family's country estate, with the same attendants – both adults and children – celebrating the same birthday party that had occurred months before, all playing out in the same order of sequence as when Bright had first viewed it. From the various adults smoking on the patio while the children played tea party to the eventual call to the Sunday roast, none of it had changed since Bright had first seen it. Especially the shimmering green of his wife's eyes, as well as the bright and sunny smiles of his two daughters.
Yet now, as he watched the birthday party play out, it all felt far more distant to him than originally. Certainly much time had already passed since he first seen it, and that much more had passed since Anges. But now it wasn't just time that divided Bright away from the event in question; as though he could actually feel the physical distance between himself and his family. As a result, the recording did not soothe as much as it originally had, but just the opposite. Instilling into the Federal Forces Commander just how far away he was from home.
Even so, he found himself watching it over and over, as well as picking on specific scenes and time lapses. If nothing else, it allowed him to see Emary and their children, during a happy occasion no less. Far removed from the war that was raging around the galaxy, as well as Zeon's touch. Bright had already fought one battle to ensure that, and if he had to he would fight a hundred more to see it remain so. In the meantime however, the underlying fact remained with him. They were all far away on Earth, while he was all but lost in space, wandering the void without direction.
At one point, he ended up shifting away from his daughters and toward Emary. He knew she was out there, waiting for his return, but that didn't make it much easier. If anything Bright missed her now more than ever; missed her touch, her ability to comfort and put him at ease, such that the war didn't just feel distant, but galaxies apart. She had retained those powers over him for as long as he could remember, and through each trial he had faced she had been there to aid him. If only she were there now, aboard the Ark Royal with him. Assuring him in every possible way that none of it was lost; that he, and his ship, would still persevere.
Sighing at the thought, Bright again found himself drawn to her shimmering emerald eyes, which once more were on the verge of tears. It was obvious then that she had missed him, and he could only imagine how much it had affected her since. In fact, a part of him wondered if she was still on Earth at all. That, upon receiving word that the Ark Royal would not be returning home straight away, she hadn't hijacked the first available warp capable starship to search him out herself. Bright wouldn't have put it past her, and it wasn't as though she didn't have the resources to pull off such a stunt. After all, there was always Uncle Melvin.
Regardless though, as he watched her with their children, Bright almost felt his own eyes water. Margaret and Cordelia were still quite young; they obviously missed him, but between family and their own friends being nearby, they could go on long enough for his return. Or so Bright hoped for them; he certainly wasn't entirely convinced he could do the same for them.
Emary, however, was a more complicated case. He, with the rest of the Ark Royal, had gone through hell since leaving Antillia; a longer spanned hell than he and his ship had faced even at Arcturus. More than anything, save being with his daughters alongside, Bright wanted to see his wife again. He wanted her to know how much he missed her, how much it hurt being apart from her. How much he really loved her…
"Bridge to Captain Noa," the intercom sounded suddenly, all but breaking Bright's concentration.
Sighing as he braced himself for the inevitable damage report to come, Bright tapped his wristcom. "Noa here."
"Sir, we just received a communique from Earth," Kikka reported on the other end, somehow managing to keep her tone professional in spite of the obvious anxiety. "Priority One."
Blinking, Bright also did well to keep his relief down. As much as he and the rest of the ship had been waiting on that message, there was only one way to tell if it was everything they had hoped for. "Send it to my personal terminal."
A moment later, Bright's desk terminal flashed active, displaying a particular designation. Up front, Bright, caught off guard by what he saw, stifled a reflexive chuckle. Someone on Earth had an ironic sense of humor, as strange as it was for the present time.
Ultimately however, he realized, from that header alone, the contents within were exactly the salvation he and his crew had been waiting on. For the title of the communique read exactly as such.
OPERATION ARARAT
CDR BRIGHT NOA'S EYES ONLY