"It is the affectionate mother that has the prodigal son."
- Han Fei

Chapter XXI: Mother

Anaheim dockship La Vie en Rose
Warp
August 20, GC 379

It was to great fanfare that the seven returned to aboard the Rose. When they exited the access tube that connected the Ark Royal to the dockship, they were greeted with abundant cheers and calls of victory as several Rose crew members – and a fair number of familiar faces from the Ark – rushed forward to thank and congratulate them. It was all rather enthusing for the seven pilots; as exhausted as they were, they could not help but be swept away by the enthusiasm of it all to be recognized as heroes, even if only for a little while. If nothing else, it was a great switch from the usual aftermath, in which the only celebration was their barest survival, itself usually gained through great struggle and loss. All seven naturally thrived in this newfound environment for at least a while.

Through the celebrations, however, Amuro soon noted a presence that was not present among the crowd. It took him a bit of effort to extend his senses through the uproar and deeper into the ship, to which he eventually came upon her again, only to find himself even more confused. Rather than elated toward their victory – or even their survival – his mother appeared to be quite distressed, having all but completely isolated herself away from the rest of the ship as turmoil ran through her presence like an electrical current. Amuro could not understand why his mother felt like that at such a time, but he knew he could not leave her as she was. There should have been no reason for her to be so upset, not after such triumph and perseverance.

Thus, as the clamor began to die down and the back pats and vocal congratulations – and even one or two offerings of a nightly rendezvous – began to die away, Amuro Ray slipped through the crowd and began to move deeper into the Rose, homing in on his mother's presence much as he had done upon first arriving there. Again, he did not know what to make of it, especially as his mother's grief became more and more pronounced as he drew closer. He only knew she was upset and did not want her to be as such. Whatever it was, surely he could help her. Surely, by coming to her side, he could make things better.

Little did he know how their next encounter – their final encounter – would change everything…


"The hero's triumphant return," Bright announced as he, Mirai, and Emary watched a thoroughly exhausted Sleggar enter the private area. Appearing very much as though he had wrung himself away from a crowd to do so.

"We could hear your fan club through the bulkheads," Mirai added.

"You're all just jealous," Sleggar snidely responded as he sat with the other three. Emary immediately passed him a drinking glass of some kind. He didn't know what it was, not even after he took a swig of it, but it was cool, contained alcohol, and was overall refreshing enough. That was sufficient for the time being. "I take it we're now at warp?"

"No more than five minutes ago," Emary nodded. As expected, she was seated beside her husband, allowing Sleggar to sit beside Mirai. The Anaheim executive eyed the CAG with discreet amazement. "That was quite a feat you and your pilots pulled off, Commander. For seven mobile suits to fight and win against all that…"

"Think nothing of it," Sleggar waved her off. "That was one of the easiest fights I've been in. I could have gone out in a Guncannon, and it would have ended more or less the same."

Emary blinked at this. "What do you mean?" she questioned carefully.

"We weren't exactly dealing with the best Cosmo Armada out there," Sleggar answered. "Don't get me wrong, their pilots were certainly good, but nothing compared to the Zeeks we've been killing into the present."

"So we assessed from here," Bright nodded in confirmation, as did Mirai. Even with all that had been going on at the time, it had been plain to see that the Babbys sent after them weren't the best that could have been sent after them. Even if the Shrikes were all ace-level pilots, with three using superior mobile suits, the fact remained that that "mere" seven should not have made such headway against two enemy task forces. "Knowing Iron Mask, he likely sent Zerik and Burgess out with every belief that they would not succeed…"

"Probably," Sleggar agreed. "He does have a nasty habit of culling the 'lesser' members of his family whenever the mood hits him."

The CAG shook his head as he recalled his prior thoughts during the fighting. "If he had taken us out seriously, he would have sent one of his better commanders, like Dorel or Sheffield, after us. Instead, we got the bottom rung of the Ronah family gene pool with a few ships and mobile suits to go along. Hardly a reenactment of Anges in the making."

"Better for us then," Mirai added on. "If that were the worst we have to fight while still fitting out, then I would consider us lucky and move on."

"Somehow, I don't think that sentiment is shared throughout the Rose, Commander," Emary dryly retorted, bringing to mind the Anaheim mobile suit pilots and crewmen who hadn't been so fortunate during the fighting.

Mirai opened her mouth to reply, but Sleggar spoke up first. "Did they hit the Ark?"

"Not that we could see," Bright responded assuredly, then turning to his wife. "We should still be on schedule."

She nodded in confirmation to her husband and the other two Federals.

"Assuming that nothing else untold occurs, as Commander Yashima partially alluded to," she pointed out, passing off a corner grin to Bright. "And as my dearest husband continuously reminds me, we're still far from Earth…"


Somehow, having managed to break out of the cheering crowd and escape into a deserted corridor, it took much of Sayla's concentration and remaining energy to walk back to her quarters, where much-needed sleep awaited her. Throughout her trek, she sees the telltale remnants of the Bugs' attack, from the torn bulkheads to some lingering bloodstains that had yet to be cleaned away, all but verbally reminding her that the war – the same war she and her fellow crewmates had spent the last few days trying to forget – was still on.

However, she did not feel that the blood was on her hands for once. After all, Iron Mask's Cosmo Babylonia had initiated the attack rather than Zeon. As vicious as Gihren and his miscreants were, they had not even chosen to use automated flying buzzsaws in their repertoire. Not that any of it mattered, as she was too wretchedly exhausted to care, and so she continued toward her waiting bed. Surely there would be a few more days before the Ark Royal was sent out again, in which she…

All at once, her senses picked upon an all too familiar presence – both physical and Newtype level – directly behind her. One that, if memory served her, she had previously warned away from any further encounters.

"I believe I told you not to seek me out again," Sayla glowered as she turned to face the Observer, who smiled back at her.

"You did indeed," the Observer answered, if once more amusedly. "And as you can tell, I have chosen to ignore your warning."

His smile then turned into a knowing grin. "Not that you would be able to enforce it otherwise."

Though she was quite tempted to follow through on her prior warning, Sayla, as difficult as it was to fathom for one such as her, did not have the energy for it. Alongside, she felt that the "priest's" words were indeed true; for all of her physical and spiritual power, she could do nothing to harm him. Especially when the mysterious bald man had survived a colony laser attack and the following destruction of the planet he had been on.

Thus, resigning herself to the apparent outcome, Sayla chose to lean against an unblemished bulkhead. After a few minutes of silently reorienting herself, she asked, "What do you want with me?"

The Observer lightly chuckled at the question as he stood before the opposite bulkhead, so he was now directly facing her.

"Nothing in particular," the Observer went on. "Rather, you, and some of those with you, have simply captured my fascination."

The former clergyman's grin extended that much more. "Even among the various existences I have, and will continue to, watch over, yours is most intriguing, Princess Artesia Som Daikun."

Sayla said nothing to this, though again, she was tempted to kill the man before her and be done with it. Again, she found herself too depleted to attempt such a thing, while the knowledge that it was unlikely she could accomplish the act was also brought back to mind.

Seemingly aware of her thoughts, the Observer nodded. "Rest assured, your identity and other secrets are safe. Your outing would be quite counterproductive for my purposes."

"And what is your purpose?" Sayla questioned further. "If you are what you claim to be, then surely you're not here out of simple amusement."

Another chuckle. "I believe I've long explained to you my purpose," the Observer stated in return. "I am an observer. One who watches over the progression of Time itself and all that lay therein."

Sayla's expression remained one of utmost doubt, but the Observer did not seem to care.

"You are correct that I am not here for basic amusement," the bald man continued. "For the task given unto me is an essential one, in ways that you, for all of your power and understanding, cannot possibly begin to comprehend."

Sayla quickly picked up on those choice words and what they alluded to. "So you answer to a higher power," she observed herself. "Does that make you an angel, or…?"

"I could be one or the other," the Observer answered with a more casual nod. "If you so wish to believe."

Sayla frowned at yet another vague reply. She decided to move to a more immediate question. "And what are you observing now?" she pressed. "Why are you aboard this ship?"

The Observer only smiled even more enigmatically. "To watch as time marches on, of course."

Though Sayla wasn't sure, she thought she saw something more within the Observer's gaze. As though, despite their present exchange, he was indeed observing something else distantly.

"To observe as history itself unravels…" the Observer proclaimed, his gaze upon an entirely different scene now, one well beyond the wayward Zeon princess before him.


After several long minutes alternating between walking and running, Amuro finally found what he sought. At the side of another corridor, Kamaria Ray sat huddled against the bulkhead, her head firmly placed in her arms. Amuro could pick up her muffled cries even without his Newtype senses.

"Mother!" Amuro called out, moving toward her. All the while, something inside him felt as though there was something amiss more than what he was seeing.

"Stay back," Kamaria exclaimed, her head lifting from her hands somewhat to reveal grief and tear-filled eyes. "Please…stay back…"

Amuro stopped where he was as she wanted, at least for the moment. "What's wrong?" he pressed. "Mother…?"

"I'm sorry, Amuro," Kamaria continued to speak. She attempted to look toward her son but was unable to so much as glance in his direction.

"Sorry?" Amuro repeated, now entirely confused at what he was seeing and hearing. "Sorry for…?"

"I hoped. I hoped…!" Kamaria murmured further, much to her son's further confusion. "I wanted to believe what I saw over the last few days. That…"

"That…?" Amuro again repeated, feeling his insides grow colder with each passing moment. What was…?

"That you were still human," Kamaria spoke, looking back up toward her son. Her eyes, once projecting her affection, now held only remorse. And that only precluded the hostility that Amuro was now picking up on her through his Newtype power.

Reflexively stepping back, Amuro was just able to let out once more. "Mother…?"

Kamaria sniffed at that response as she finally stood up. "It's not your fault," she spoke as though in admission. "You were too young to do anything to stop us, and we, in our arrogance, thought it was all for mankind's benefit."

She looked Amuro over, much as she had when he had found her upon arriving aboard the Rose. However, rather than seeing her long-lost son, she only now beheld an abomination. Something Amuro, again through his Newtype abilities, was more than able to pick upon.

"The Ultimate Newtype," Kamaria exclaimed, watching Amuro's eyes widen at that last word. "That's what we called you because there had been, and I suspect, none like you. That's why we…"

"What are you talking about?" Amuro responded, somehow forcing himself to step forward again. "Mother…?"

"Don't!" Kamaria snapped, causing Amuro to freeze once more. "Don't call me that! I'm not your mother! And you're no longer my son!"

Amuro's eyes widened even more as Kamaria glared at him, tears once more flowing down her eyes, eyes filled with hate and apprehension.

"You…" Kamaria spat as she glowered over Amuro's form. "You're not my son at all! You…You're just another monster that we arrogant humans concocted! One more horror in a long line…!"

"Mother…!" Amuro spoke again, now unable to feel his own body as tears of his own began to flow.

"I said don't call me that!" Kamaria bellowed even more while her arm launched into her jumpsuit. She returned a gun that she instantly aimed with, the pistol shaking in her hand as she pointed it at the man before her. The man – no, the thing – that had once been her child.

Amuro stepped back again, eyes fully agape as he could only take in what he was seeing before him. Was his mother aiming a gun at…?

"Don't call me that," Kamaria repeated, only this time as though she were pleading, the first semblances of shame appearing over her. "I…I have no right to be called that… And you…!"

Amuro attempted to move again, only for Kamaria to raise her gun more to stop him. "Forget about me," she ordered, her hate and scorn returning. "If you're still capable of such a thing."

Kamaria could not help but smile ironically as she went on. "Forget about this disgusting, arrogant wretch that used to be your mother. Forget about all of us. Just be what we made you to be, and fulfill the role that we gave you…"

Contempt flowed like acid as she spoke her next two hateful words. "White Devil."

More than the others, those two words struck Amuro as though he had been shot in the chest. It was not the first time he had been called that, and he knew he had not always been referred to as such in admiration. But, hearing those two words now, and with such loathing and resentment behind them…

He wanted to question her, to demand why she had called him that, why she was looking at him with such hatred as she was now. But he didn't have the strength. More than the battle he had just fought, the words of the one before him had sapped him of all of his power. All he could do was stand there – somehow managing to remain on his feet throughout – and look upon the woman he had loved for so long and gaze upon him with the utmost contempt. Gaze upon him with only hatred, seemingly for all that he was.

Kamaria spoke no more, instead backing away slowly, her gun still trained on the homunculus that used to be her blood. She turned and ran down the corridor only after ascertaining that he would not follow her. Seemingly, as far as she could run from Amuro Ray – what had once been Amuro Ray – while still being on the Rose.


All at once, the familiar lightning bolt erupted within Sayla's mind, causing her to turn reflexively toward the direction of its source. Rather than in the heat of battle, however, the bolt this time was of a different make and much more intense. The pain it represented was raw, alongside the suffering of its originator. Amuro!

"Yes," the Observer confirmed, his expression now one of pity. "It has finally come to pass."

Turning back to the entity before her, Sayla again felt her murderous impulses worsening. "What did you do to him?" she growled, restraining herself just enough to hear his answer. "What did you…!?"

"I did nothing, I promise you," the Observer replied calmly. "As I've spoken to you repeatedly, I am a mere spectator in all of this. No more, no less."

Snarling out a breath, Sayla knew that could only be true. Of what she had seen of this man – this being – he was not one to take such direct action so much as stand by, regardless of whatever he claimed of himself and his supposed mission. Whatever had stricken Amuro, it had to be something else that would have had a far more direct effect. Could…?

"I suggest you go to him now," the Observer stated, this time with some assurance to his calm. "Before the worst should occur."

Casting one final disparaging glare toward the Observer, Sayla wasted no time turning away and moving down the corridor toward where she picked upon Amuro Ray's bearing. Indeed, she didn't have much time; already, she could feel Amuro break down on virtually every level of his being. Not simply mind and body, his very soul had been fractured in such a way that, if nothing was done, it could leave him forever lost.

Sayla would be damned before she let that happen. And so would the one which she called upon through her wristcom. "Fraw!"


He could barely think. He could barely move, though he kept walking one step at a time. It was all Amuro could do to remain upright, let alone process any conscious thought, for the universe may well and truly shatter from under him as though the stars' light had blinked out, seemingly never to brighten reality again. As though all that remained for him was pure, unending despair.

As he stepped one foot at a time down the corridor toward a destination he had long forgotten, Amuro could still hear the harshness of his mother's voice, could still see the painful disdain she held for him in her eyes. She hated him. She well and truly hated him. She had called him a horror, a monster. She had even threatened to shoot him had he moved close to her. And for all of his knowledge and understanding, Amuro could not fathom why she had looked upon him as such and called him such things. Not when he had only picked up her love for him a few days ago.

Had that all been a lie? Had his power failed him so Amuro could not detect the malice behind his mother's prior affections? He did not know this either, though he would have liked to believe that her earlier words and feelings toward him had been true. If so, then what had caused such a horrific change? How could she come to hate him? As much as what remained active through all of this, his mind scrambled to find an answer. Yet none came forward, not through the unrelenting darkness upon him now. The knowledge that, in the end, he had been forsaken by the one who should have accepted him above all else.

Eventually, Amuro felt himself stumble, whether through a misstep or his foot catching onto something on the ground. He did not know either. Only that it was enough for him to fall, to which he barely caught himself from landing face-first upon the metal floor. He could see his tears drop onto the deck through his tired eyes, and there were many of them. There was no feeling in his hands, at least none he could comprehend. It felt like the world had ended for him, and he did not know why.

He managed to pull himself off the ground with whatever strength he had left and huddle up against the side of the bulkhead, as his mother had before. He would have stood back up but didn't think he could, as though his legs had gone numb. Amuro could only remain where he was, hopefully just long enough for him to recover his strength and continue onward—assuming that was even still possible, of course.

He opened his hands and looked down upon their open palms as he remained there. Upon doing so, a single question entered his mind: what was he? His mother had called him a monster and had claimed that he had been "made" as such. Was that really what he was? A grotesque abomination that could never pass as a human being? Surely, that could not be true; he was as human as anyone aboard the Rose. Surely, he could not be anything else, especially…

And yet he held doubt. How could he not? He was the White Devil, the harbinger of death to Zeon and now Cosmo Babylonia. In only a few months, he had killed so many, oh so many. And no matter how deserving the enemy had been otherwise, he had torn them all down as if they were straw to his scythe. No human being could perform so much destruction and could take so many lives. And yet, that was precisely what he, Amuro Ray, had done, and he had done it with so very little regard.

Any further line of thought seemed impossible by that point, so Amuro could only bring his hands to his face and let the tears flow out further. Was…was he a monster? The answer refused to come, no matter how much he wished it; he wondered if there was an answer. All that he knew were his deeds, of which there were plenty. That seemed to be enough damning evidence that he was indeed not human but something far, far more vile. Something twisted and evil. Something that should not have even been.


"Oh my god!" Fraw exclaimed as she and Sayla, at last, came upon the disheveled form of Amuro Ray, huddled up against the side deck in a fetal position. Without pause, the two women rushed forward and knelt, reaching out to the Gundam pilot from either side. "Amuro! Amuro, can you hear me!?"

"Fr…" a light murmur seemed to escape from Amuro's lips, as though he were trying to respond but could not gather the strength to do so. Neither woman needed to see past his enfolded hands to know they were physically holding back tears. "Fr…aw…Say…la…"

Biting back her tears as she faced Amuro's distress, Sayla reached down and took him by the arm. "Help me!" she commanded Fraw, who immediately complied with the opposite arm. Whatever had happened, they could not leave him out in the open like this, and as luck would have it, Amuro's quarters aboard the Rose were not too far away. Thus guiding their ward back to his feet, they steadily guided him to the nearest turbolift, with Fraw tapping the keypad for the appropriate deck.

Only a few minutes later did they reach their destination. As soon as the doors opened, Sayla and Fraw, again with as much steadiness as they could, brought Amuro to his bed and sat him on the edge. There, both women saw Amuro's now uncovered face, which was beholden to tears and grief.

"I…" Amuro tried to speak, seemingly attempting to explain himself. Yet again, he did not have the strength to formulate words, for the shock of whatever he had experienced cut deep. "I…"

No longer holding back her tears, Sayla could not help but lean forward to embrace her fellow Gundam pilot, holding him tightly yet comfortingly. Amuro, she called out through their link. We're here, Amuro. We're here for you.

Slowly, Amuro's arm reached up to embrace Sayla in turn. Sayla… he managed to respond, still sounding like he were in a horrific daze.

What did this to you? Sayla almost demanded, the full force of her protectiveness toward him coming about. What could have…?

Rather than a direct answer, another line of imagery entered Sayla's mind. The very scene of Amuro's last encounter played out before her completion. To its horrific yet inevitable conclusion, leading to where they were now.

Upon witnessing all of it, Sayla's eyes finally snapped back open. Instead of the empathy she felt toward Amuro, she now held great and terrible rage.

Releasing herself from her ward, Sayla took two steps away from him and Fraw before she spoke again. "Fraw," she said in a near monotone. "I need you to stay with Amuro."

Blinking once, Fraw could not help but question. "I was going to do that, but…" she hesitated, already sensing something amiss with her friend. "Where are you going?"

Though she remained outwardly calm, a dark fire now burned out from the depths of Sayla Mass' soul. She dared not look upon either of the two before her lest its fury had reached her face. "I'm going to get answers. Much needed answers."

Again, Fraw couldn't help but feel apprehensive. "Wouldn't it be better if you stayed here as well? Amuro…"

"He will be alright as long as you're here!" Sayla stated far more forcefully than she wanted, so she had to reign herself in somewhat. "You…"

She took another moment to reorient herself, only then finally declaring. "You are the only other he will allow by his side."

Sayla didn't need to return to pick up on Fraw gaping toward those words. Then and there, the pilot of Gundam Unit Gamma took her abrupt leave, exiting the quarters and moving at the best speed toward her new target whose presence was now a blazing fixture in Sayla's consciousness, shining through the whole of the Rose as a great beacon.

It did not matter where Kamaria Bailey, Kamaria Ray, or whatever else she went by chose to hide herself. She would be sought out all the same as the fox to the hound. And when she was indeed cornered, it could only be hoped that a God was out there to show her mercy. Because Sayla Mass was not about to.


No sooner than when the door to her quarters opened did Kamaria all but throw herself inside, the door locking into place behind her. For the first time in a very, very long time, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the universe. She had run and run far for many years, and for a time, she had come to believe that she had distanced herself from her sins permanently. Only now, as she collapsed onto the floor in a weeping fit, did she know the truth. She could never escape from what she had done; there was no place in the universe where she could hide or lose herself. The evidence of that remained square with her son's presence aboard the Rose after so many years of separation.

"Amuro…" Kamaria breathed, grinding her teeth together as the tears flowed ever longer. She had hoped. She had dared to hope. In the end, however, her hopes were entirely misplaced. She knew now that her son was indeed no more, wholly transformed into the White Devil. "Damn you, Tem…! Damn you…!"

"Perhaps you should reflect upon yourself before condemning others," a low yet hostile voice spoke from behind her, causing Kamaria to snap back to the present. Standing up and turning around, she saw a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman in an Earth Federation Space Force uniform standing before her, the aforementioned eyes shimmering with cold hatred. It took another moment for Kamaria to see this woman as one of Amuro's comrades and as the Valkyrie of Riah herself.

"You!" Kamaria called out, suddenly realizing that she was wholly cornered. With Sayla Mass standing directly in front of the only entry and exit to her quarters, she could go nowhere. "What are you doing here!? What do you want with me!?"

"Both are simple enough to answer," Sayla espoused in faux casualness while keeping her eyes level upon the older woman. As calm as she appeared, one could not mistake the fury emanating from her. "I'm here for answers to certain questions about the man you just hurt. And I want you to give me those answers."

Kamaria stepped back, very much afraid now. She could not tell right away, but she knew there was something inherently dangerous about this woman. And not simply because of her uniform or because she was one of the top aces within Earth's muster.

"You will give me what I seek," Sayla pressed on, stepping forward herself. "Or…"

"Or what?" yet another new voice entered, causing Sayla to frown. Now past the doorway were three others, two large-built men and one woman dressed in telltale Anaheim jumpsuits. All three glared at Sayla's back with foreboding ire.

Without turning around to look at them from the corner of her eye, Sayla warned them. "If you wish to remain upright for the foreseeable future, you will leave now," she said, finally turning to glare back at the three Rose crewmen. "This is between myself and this woman alone."

"Well, tough shit bitch," the second one spoke up as well. "Kam happens to be a good friend of ours, and we don't appreciate any threats to her."

"Especially from some tramp poser in a Space Force uniform," the third woman stated as she marched up to Sayla to glare down at her in turn. "I suggest you leave while you still can."

Again, Kamaria couldn't put her finger on it, but as strong and able as her three fellow crewmates were, something inside told her they were no match for this other woman and that they were the ones that should leave while still possible before Sayla Mass turned the full force of her wrath upon them.

"Or what?" Sayla coldly repeated, not intimidated in the least.

The crewwoman only laughed as though Sayla had told a funny joke. Then, at the end of her laugh, she brought up her right arm into a hook, smashing her fist hard against Sayla's face. It should have been an easy win; the crewwoman had to be twice Sayla's size in build. This was why everyone in the room was taken aback when Sayla remained standing, and the impact had barely caused her to turn her head slightly.

With newfound confusion and emerging fear now over the Anaheim group, Sayla turned once more back to Kamaria, the glare of her blue eyes remaining in place as she briefly gazed at the hapless woman. Then she turned back to face her would-be attacker and, without warning, executed a snap kick to the chest. The woman went flying, barely missing her two comrades before landing against the bulkhead, firmly unconscious.

The other two fell just as fast, with Sayla moving upon one and smashing her fist into the larger man's gut, causing him actually to cough and wheeze from the impact. She then followed through with several more punches before finally knocking him out as well. The other, who had spoken first before, had just enough time to attack his own, throwing punch after punch at the mobile suit pilot, only for Sayla to evade each attack with little effort. It was almost comical to watch; not only could he smash such a smaller target, but Sayla was not going out of her way to defend herself.

And then, right in the middle of another punch, Sayla reached up and intercepted the fist with her hand. The man held his punch there for a time, attempting to overcome the Gundam pilot's surprising grip and complete his attack. That time was quite brief. However, as Kamaria soon picked up on the sounds of bones snapping and breaking under superior force, the crewman eventually cried out in pain as he came into a kneel. From that point on, he fought to release himself from Sayla's hold; all the while, the Valkyrie looked down upon her victim with utmost disdain.

Eventually, however, she did release her hold, only to smash her knee into the man's face. Nose crumpling from the impact, the crewman had just enough time to let out another cry before Sayla grasped him by the neck and not only lifted him back up but threw him. He, too, impacted against the bulkhead before landing in a heap with the other two.

"Zeon," Kamaria breathed, realizing that there was no escape.

Again, Sayla turned toward her. "And much more…" she growled as she unleashed the full force of her will.

Only then did Kamaria remember her gun, but Sayla was much faster. Crossing the relative distance in a split-second, the ace reached in. It withdrew the beam pistol herself while grasping Kamaria's arm and reversing it in an Earth aikido style hold. When Kamaria realized what had happened, she was pressed into the ground, her right arm within Sayla's iron grip and her only means of defense crushed by Valkyrie's opposite hand.

However, that wasn't what terrified Kamaria the most. Rather, it was the strong mental pressure she felt like a great thunderstorm had emerged within her consciousness. Only one kind of being in the universe generated such power and at such intensity.

Newtype, she managed to think through the strain. N-IV class!

"That is indeed correct," Sayla answered as she threw away the pistol remnants and released her hold, allowing the opposite woman to stand up again. As tempted as she was to keep her in that position, Sayla knew she would gain better answers without such great duress. "Kamaria Ray."

Holding her strained arm, Kamaria somehow managed to glare back at the intruder. "That's not my name."

"Then what is it?" Sayla mockingly exclaimed. "Is it Kamaria Bailey, anonymous Anaheim tech and crewwoman of the dockship La Vie en Rose? Or…"

The pilot then grinned venomously as she added. "Is it Doctor Kamaria Flanagan?" she posited, taking pleasure in Kamaria's sudden horrified expression. "Daughter of Anton Flanagan and former head researcher of the Flanagan Institute?"

"Damn you!" Kamaria managed to cry out, barely able to keep herself poised. Her worst nightmare was emerging before her, and she had no more means to run. No more means to hide.

Again, Sayla took visible delight in the older woman's response. "What you choose to identify yourself by is ultimately irrelevant," she continued, moving upon her target again. "As I said, I have questions that need answers. And you are going to give me those answers."

"I have nothing to give to you!" Kamaria snapped, putting as much of a defiant front as she could, even as Sayla backed her toward a wall. "I demand that you…!"

Again moving faster than Kamaria's unaugmented eyes could track, Sayla grasped the woman by the throat. All bemusement now vanished from the Federal officer's expression.

"You are in a position to demand nothing!" Sayla bellowed as she slammed Kamaria against the bulkhead, raising her just off the ground. The older woman could only struggle within the Zeon Princess' iron grip as the latter continued. "One way or the other, I will have the answers I seek. Even if it requires me to break you, mind, body, and soul, and then gleam everything from your fragments."

She then leaned her head in so Kamaria could behold the full fury of her blue eyes to her captive's plain brown. "Do not mistake my restraint for hesitance," Sayla continued while her grip ensured Kamaria could not turn away. "After all that you have caused Amuro, and what I suspect you have caused him long before, I could easily crush you now and be done with it."

Kamaria still writhed under the grip, but Sayla could see from her eyes alone that she was now willing to comply. Thus, without a second thought, she released the older woman and allowed her to fall to the ground, landing in a coughing mess.

"Let's start from the beginning," Sayla said as she knelt to her victim, who could only glare impotently back in turn. "What is Project V? And how does it pertain to Amuro?"


It had taken a bit of time and some effort, but Fraw finally managed to get Amuro settled in enough to sleep. It was like taking care of a child, she admitted, guiding her charge to the bathroom so that he could shower up as well as change into sleepwear – a tanktop and some boxers, of course – and then staying by his bedside when he, at last, drifted off, but considering all that Amuro had gone through for the day, Fraw knew it was quite warranted. Even before whatever had taken place before – as well as Sayla's departure – there was still the fight with the Babbys and the run to the Ark Royal through the Bugs just prior. It was only a miracle that Amuro hadn't broken from the strain alone.

Now at rest, Fraw remained by his side, watching the so-called White Devil's face as it had gained some semblance of peace. Even now, she found that moniker ironic, as much as she would have had Amuro been called that back at Antillia. As much of a menace as he was in battle, Amuro Ray was far from the devil. Even his lesser qualities, such as his often immaturity and rebelliousness, were more a product of human growth than the sheer evil one would expect of a demon. No, whatever the universe thought of him, Fraw only saw a human being here. Is a human capable of much destruction, but weren't all humans like that? She need only look at him now to know that she was right, the whole of that same universe be damned.

Gently and very slowly, she reached out and stroked her fingers across his left cheek, feeling the sweat and tear-soaked flesh underneath. Whatever had happened before had been terrible indeed. As peaceful as he was now, she had never seen Amuro so broken as before. Not even the conclusion of Juno's destruction had done so much harm to him, and certainly not the physical alterations he had received from his commanding officer at Antillia. No, whatever had happened had been the clincher, that much she could easily tell. Had it not been for Sayla…

Fraw closed her eyes and shook her head as very specific feelings emerged from within. She had never wanted to think about it, not even when seeing it before her own eyes, and she certainly didn't want to now. If anything, she should have been grateful that there was another out there who was as invested in Amuro's health and being as she was, and the fact that the other was a fellow mobile suit pilot and Newtype only meant even more. As much as Fraw could monitor Amuro's physical and, to some extent, psychological bearing, there was no way she could understand what it was like to fight in the war directly, much less what it was like to be so spiritually empowered. Sayla understood both more than enough that she had been guiding Amuro on the latter and, to some degree, on the former.

And in return, Amuro was completely enamored with her. After all, he would not have let anyone else…

You are the only other he will allow by his side. The Valkyrie of Riah's earlier words echoed from within as she thought along that line. They weren't much, but they reassured Fraw in that moment of doubt. Indeed, she had been the only one who could attend to Amuro so as not to trigger his haphephobia long before Sayla had ever entered the picture. That is exactly what she was doing now, as she had done repeatedly back on Antillia. Surely, she still meant something from that, didn't she?

A sudden stirring caused Fraw some alarm, fearing that she had awoken her charge somehow. However, it turned out to be Amuro simply settling in more within his sleep, to which the young doctor breathed a sigh of relief. Daring more somewhat, she opened her hand and placed her palm along the mobile suit pilot's cheek, somehow knowing that Amuro would have appreciated it. He seemed to settle in much more from the contact, as though he had drifted off even deeper.

A small but warm smile crossed her lips. Fraw could see that there was still a place for her in Amuro's world; she still meant much to him. The same man that had sought her out after the Zeon had destroyed her home and killed her parents provided her a means to leave that backwater colony for potential life on Earth and had been beside her into the present. She had repaid the favor for that same period and would continue to do so to the end. Whether as "merely" doctor and patient or something much, much more, she would always be at Amuro's side. That she resolved to herself then and there as she watched over him.

Once more, the whole of the universe is damned.


"How…?" Sayla could only breathe, her eyes projecting horror toward everything she had just heard. "How could you have done any of this…?"

Kamaria couldn't help but bitterly laugh at that reaction. "At the time, it seemed like our only course of action. You must understand that not everyone was as enamored with the prospect of Ascension as the Daikuns were; in fact, many of us feared what it was claimed to entail, namely the extinction of we Oldtypes. And that was before the Zabis entered in with their agendas…"

"So you did this!?" Sayla responded in accusation. "You sacrificed what you claim to be the Ultimate Newtype to sate those fears!?"

"I suppose I have," Kamaria shrugged nonchalantly, no longer caring how her audience took it in. "Not that it should matter to you. As a Zeon, you…"

"Do NOT speak for me, lowborn scum!" Sayla bellowed much more with such venom that Kamaria instantly silenced her accusation. Such was her rage that Sayla trembled as she continued. "What you have done…what you have made is beyond acceptance, no matter what basis you justify yourself by."

"Yes, I see that now," Kamaria exclaimed remorsefully. "More than you will ever know."

Kamaria sighed as she thought back on all of it. Again, she knew that no matter how much time and distance she had made, she would never outrun her sins.

"I was a fool," she continued. "I thought so little of it, as did my husband, father, and everyone else. We were so blinded by our fears and the prospect of creating such a powerful instrument that it didn't matter who we selected. Amuro was simply the most viable candidate, as you can easily tell."

Sayla gritted her teeth, now barely able to constrain herself. "And what about Amuro?" she demanded, fearing the answer. "Did his wants and needs never occur to you?"

Again, Kamaria laughed bitterly. "Amuro was a child just entering the world at the time," she admitted. "His wants and needs were nothing to the greater whole. It wouldn't have been the first time the individual was sacrificed for humanity's betterment."

"Damn you!" Sayla hissed as her trembling increased that much more.

"I already am, dear," Kamaria replied sagely. "I am merely giving you the answers you wanted."

She pressed on again, no matter how much she cared about her fate. "No matter where he came from or who he was related to, Amuro was simply the best. Even among the numerous candidates Flanagan had taken in since its inception, he was the ultimate, the perfect Newtype. How could we not choose him for the project? He…"

"He was your SON!" Sayla, at last, let out with all the fervor within. More than her wrathful outbursts, this one best emphasized all she felt. Not just fury but her empathy toward the one who truly mattered to her in all of this. "Does that mean NOTHING to you!?"

Such was the force of Sayla's outcry that Kamaria had no verbal reply whatsoever. Instead, several moments passed in utter silence as those words hung between the two women. All the while, Sayla stood by, somehow still able to restrain herself despite all she had heard.

And then, Kamaria let out another sigh, this one in resignation. "You do care about him, don't you?"

Sayla said nothing about this, only glaring with utmost ire toward the older woman. Kamaria could not blame her for that in the least. "Very well," she finally exclaimed, preparing herself. "Do what you must."

For the life of her, Sayla wanted to do just that, such that her fingers reflexively twitched over and over as she still tremored with seething rage. She didn't simply want to kill this woman; she wanted her to suffer to the end, as extended as Sayla could make it. And she knew she could do it. Between her Newtype powers and her knowledge of the human anatomy, she could carry out her prior threat and break Kamaria Ray on all levels: mind, body, and soul. She knew she could do it without alerting the Rose's other crew or her own to the act.

Yet one thing, and one thing only, kept her from doing any of it. Consequently, the same reason she was there to begin with: Amuro. One facet about Newtypes that Sayla knew all too well was that they held a special connection to their parents, no matter the status of their "conventional" relationships. Thus, for whatever pain and anguish she inflicted upon Kamaria, there was a very good chance Amuro would feel it in turn – perhaps even more so given his present vulnerable state – and that was something Sayla could and would never risk. Amuro Ray had suffered enough already that day, and Sayla would be damned herself before she allowed him to agonize any further, especially when it would not be longer before they all returned to the war.

Thus reigning herself in completely, Sayla measurably calmed before she spoke again. "Listen well, degenerate, because I will not repeat myself!"

She then declared at last. "I will spare your life and allow you to go about your way, but only on a very specific condition: you will disappear once more."

Yet again, Kamaria felt pressure emerge within her mind and spirit as each word was spoken.

"I do not care where you go or what you do with yourself, but you will vanish," Sayla continued. "Such that neither Amuro nor I will ever detect your presence again."

Such was the intensity of the pressure that Kamaria found herself gritting her teeth in pain, a hand reaching up to her head to try and hold it all in. Eventually, it became so much that Kamaria again found herself kneeling over it.

"And should even the barest trace of your vile existence be recognized, especially around him," Sayla said as she stepped forward, glaring down at the writhing Kamaria. "Your life, for whatever longer it shall last, will be mine."

Kamaria again looked up at her, only this time there was no defiance in her gaze. Only agony from the inferno that swept across her soul.

To this, Sayla, casting one final contemptuous sneer, smashed her boot heel into the older woman's head. It wasn't enough to kill her, but it did knock her unconscious with the other three. The latter would awaken, forgetting everything that had transpired and likely owe it all to some drunken escapade. But not Kamaria. She would remember all of it, and if she held even a single whit toward her survival, she would do exactly as Sayla commanded. And she would never be seen or heard from again after that.

Again forcing herself back from inflicting further harm, Sayla turned and exited. Not so much as looking back once, she went back to meet with Fraw and Amuro.


Anaheim dockship La Vie en Rose
System K-718
September 3, GC 379

"And so it's back to it," Bright exclaimed melancholy as he walked with Emary toward the docking tube, where the fully refurbished Ark Royal awaited him to retake command. "Through one means or another, we made it to this point."

"You sound so surprised," Emary chided lightly, feeling her melancholy at the prospect. "You didn't think the whole war would end while you were here, did you?"

Bright only smiled sadly toward her. "I wish it had," he confessed, earning a mirrored smile from his wife. Indeed, it would have been nice if the Zeeks and their entourage had just given up and sewed for an armistice while he and his ship were still out of it, but obviously, that was not to be. "On the plus side, at least it had been a smooth enough transition, the Babbys notwithstanding."

Emary chuckled at this. "Anaheim prides itself on fast and friendly service," she proclaimed, echoing Captain Haskell's words from long ago. "You shouldn't have any trouble out there, at least as far as the condition of your ship is concerned."

Which obviously won't last very long, given our track record. Bright thought about it but didn't say it aloud. Not that he didn't know Emary didn't realize it herself.

Eventually, the pair made it to the docking tube, where Bright would transfer to his ship and depart the system immediately. Visibly sighing, he turned toward his wife, who he would yet again not see for the immediate future. Somehow managing not to get lost in her brilliant green eyes, Bright somehow found the effort to speak again. "I suppose this is where we go our separate ways."

Emary chuckled a little at that. "I wish you wouldn't make it sound like a divorce," she said, stroking her husband's cheek. "But yes, this is where I return to Earth, and you…"

"Go back to surviving," Bright said, reaching up to place his hand over hers. "And maybe even winning along the way."

Mrs. Noa smiled regardless. "I'll give Margaret and Cordelia your love," she said, the first semblances of tears appearing in her eyes. "Just…" she hesitated somewhat. "No more milk runs."

Now, it was Bright's turn to laugh. "You know I can't promise that," he said before drawing her in and giving her one long, final kiss, which Emary very much returned.

Even after the kiss ended, the two stood there for several moments, staring into each other's eyes. It was simultaneously warm and disheartening for either of them, such that neither Bright nor Emary bothered to hide their renewed longing for one another.

Eventually, however, Bright reached down and placed his commissar cap upon his head, taking another moment to straighten it. Like it or not, he still had a war and much more to win. Lest, he loses everything he cherished, from the woman before him to Gihren Zabi's madness.

"For what it's worth, I don't think I'll be gone for as long this time," Bright said. Though he couldn't risk letting Odessa slip, he had a feeling his wife, being a higher-up at Anaheim and having a direct line to its CEO, had some inclination of it. "Who knows? We may win this one by Christmas."

Emary chuckled again. "I'm sure you will," she said, sounding like she could believe it. "Just make sure to come home for it, my love."

Bright nodded, smiling back. "So long as you keep the home fire burning," he said. "And a plum pudding in the oven…"

Emary laughed one more time at that. "Sorry, you're not getting that one," she admonished mockingly. "You know how much I hate that stuff."

"Sure," Bright laughed a little, pretending he had forgotten that detail. He pretended to sigh in resignation. "I suppose I can settle for crème brûlée and the like."

"You better," Emary chided, laughing now and holding onto the moment for a little longer.

Eventually, however, the laughter stopped, and Bright nodded. It was time now. "Well then," he finally said. "Until we meet again, Emary."

"Until then, Bright," Emary said as she stroked his cheek again. And then make one final adjustment to his cap, as though to emphasize her husband hadn't gotten it quite right the first time. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you," Bright said, then saluting his wife, which she mirrored. With that, he turned and entered the tube, the doors closing behind him as Emary watched him go.

Not long after, the Ark Royal was undocked from the Rose, restored whole, and free to return to the stars. After maneuvering about, she engaged her warp drive and launched off into the void.


Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Warp

Once again, standing upon the Ark Royal's observation deck, Amuro watched as the stars sped by in their usual familiarity. Though the time with the Rose hadn't been very long, he still couldn't help but feel a great eternity had passed since he had seen the stars like this. The war had certainly seemed far away throughout that span, the skirmish with the Babbys notwithstanding. A part of Amuro couldn't help but wonder if the universe itself was still out there or if it had somehow changed while he and the rest of the Ark's crew were recovering.

Amuro wondered if he had changed since the initial arrival at J-292. Though he couldn't identify which part of himself had altered, it felt so. He only knew that he was not the man he had been before coming aboard the Rose. The man he had been when he found his long-lost mother after so long. And for his life, Amuro couldn't tell if that was good or bad.

Well, that didn't take long, Sayla proclaimed as she entered the deck to join him. Somehow, I knew this would be the first place you would come when we headed out again.

Amuro solemnly nodded. I suppose so.

Sayla turned slightly to glance at her fellow Gundam pilot. You're still thinking about her, aren't you?

Exhaling through his nostrils, Amuro knew better than to say otherwise. I lost my mother a long time ago, Sayla, he confessed. I never understood why, and to be honest, I still don't understand why.

He looked back toward the stars. For a time, though, it did seem like I found her again; the Gundam pilot shook his head. I suppose she was still lost despite it all.

Sayla nodded to this. You could say that, she agreed, herself dwelling upon the wayward Kamaria Ray momentarily. That encounter had more or less been the last either of them or anyone else aboard the Rose had seen of her. She disappeared after that, to such an extent that even Amuro could not pick up on her presence from then on.

Amuro only took that to heart. Like it or not, my mother is gone, he surmised, both to himself and Sayla. She has been for a long, long time.

Indeed, Sayla agreed to this as well.

A bit of curiosity welling up within Amuro, he decided to ask. Did you ever know yours?

Somehow, knowing he was going to ask that question, Sayla smiled somewhat. A long time ago, she answered, and very briefly.

Though she did well not to show it, Amuro could still pick up the barest traces of sadness from her answer. I see, he replied, deciding to leave it at that.

It was then Sayla turned toward the doorway again. Come on, she said, gesturing. Fraw's waiting for us in the mess.

Though he wasn't entirely hungry, nor did he know how his stomach would take meals aboard the Ark Royal again after the Rose's comparatively five-star level cuisine, Amuro ultimately decided it was for the better. If nothing else, it gave him something more to do.

After you, Sayla said, to which Amuro nodded and made his way out, with his wingmate following.

Before she departed, however, Sayla couldn't help but take one final glance toward the streaking stars. Wondering, if only for a moment longer, if Kamaria Ray was somewhere out there just beyond. Or she was no longer there at all.

Ultimately, however, Sayla decided it did not matter to her. Amuro Ray was her charge now. No matter what he was or what the lowborn vermin of Earth had attempted to make of him, he was hers now. And she would do everything in her power to see to his betterment, the whole of the universe be damned.

With that resolution in mind, Sayla finally made her own exit and followed along to the mess.