For the first few minutes, laying on her back in her cockpit chair was almost relaxing. Peaceful.
... No it wasn't. Kallen tried to tell herself it was, but trapped on the sea floor in a little metal cage that she wasn't entirely sure of the pressure rating of, every sound an unsettling echo... The only upside was the Lancelot landing on its back, more or less, meaning she was at least in a somewhat comfortable position. Then again, that comfortable position, on her back in a small box, just made it feel more like a coffin.
She couldn't pretend she didn't whimper when she realised the comparison. Not when it echoed right back to her in the silence. But before she could let that shake her even more, she felt as something moved. Felt herself moved. Heard the sounds of scraping against the outside. It was no longer a time to worry about her potential demise from asphyxiation at the bottom of the sea. It was time to worry about what exactly was moving her. It was subtle, like the slight jerking feeling of an elevator starting or stopping, but she was being moved. What was moving her... It hadn't been long enough for Lloyd and Cecile to get a retrieval team in, which left two options. One was bad for her cover. The other was the worst case scenario.
Whichever it was, there was a chance they would be getting her out before the Britannians could get to her. Shorting the cockpit door or cutting the thing open, either way, she had to decide what she would do. Should she fight, try to escape? Or should she submit to whoever it was. The JSDF it would be... Fine. Probably. The Chinese, that would be a problem. And without the Lancelot her chances of escape were slim to none. They'd.. They'd just kill her. She would be a loose end. Much as she wanted to, resisting would go badly for her.
But she had a feeling...Any outcome would go badly for her. A creeping chill ran down her spine as she realised she would be a prisoner of war.
"Please be Ohgi..." she whispered to herself. "Please be Lelouch..." The anxiety was free to creep into her mind, deeper and deeper as minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly.
The sound. Rushing water.
And a crackling radio. "—feld! —tadt-eld-ou-ead?!"
She snatched her radio. "Cecile?!"
"—ir Stadt-ou-right?!"
"I'm okay! But I don't know where I am! Someone pulled me out of the water!"
"—ignal-n't-!"
Shit, with just the radio and the Lancelot fried she couldn't get a good signal! The redhead put the radio aside for the moment. "Come on, come on, the core should still fire! Just gimme a factsphere! Something!" She slapped at the controls, trying to get a response from some system, any system!
The cockpit hatch opened.
"You've gotta be shitting me!"
It turned out even if there was no true ejection system installed in the Lancelot, a feature that was literally the core component of the first generation of knightmare yet absent from this one, Lloyd hadn't left his devicer completely helpless. An ejection system was too much, but at the very least there was a redundant method to open the hatch even without power. An incredibly simple and cheap escape option. Near worthless.
Except, apparently, to screw Kallen over at the worst possible time. The possibility of waiting for rescue while her 'rescuers' cut open the hatch just vanished entirely. "Shiiiit...!"
And they had noticed. She felt the thud against the hatch. Something heavy impacting it, multiple times. And then pulling her out. Pulling it open. She unbuckled herself to not be completely helpless, rose into a low stance from her seat...
"Shit, she's even cuter up close!" someone said in Kansai-inflected Japanese.
Portman frames. And a couple of Sutherlands. "Oh thank god." All of the building anxiety flowed out of her so quickly it made her knees buckle a little.
"Sir Stadtfeld! Do you read?!"
"Don't answer that," one of the JSDF soldiers warned her, aiming a rifle in her direction.
"Point that gun somewhere else!" came a familiar voice from one of the Sutherlands. Inoue. A friendly voice. Just what she needed. "But yes... Sir Stadtfeld. Don't respond to that. We're going to take you in."
Right. Undercover. She raised her hands making clear she was surrendering. "You got it."
-(-)-
A conversation. It was genuinely all they would have time for. Lelouch knew the Britannians would be searching for Kallen, or more truthfully, the Lancelot and then Kallen by order of priority. They would be found before long, so if he wanted to play this in a beneficial way, this meeting would have to be wrapped up fast.
"Kallen," Ohgi said as he pulled her into a hug. A very brief one. They were still Japanese despite him being a surrogate brother to her and them both being in potentially deadly circumstances. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good. What happened to the fleet?"
"Kept moving," Lelouch answered. "They did what they came to do, and more with the disabling of the Lancelot. Staying in the area would invite more substantial retaliation by Britannia."
"Sounds to me like they're the ones running then!" Kallen bragged, her smile dropping at the solemn expressions of her allies. "What?"
Lelouch turned away.
"Kallen," Ohgi said. "We lost half our Portman pilots in that attack. Sugiyama was one of them."
"What?" She would feel ashamed for it later, but in the moment she laughed. "No, that doesn't— Come on, I'm the only one working without an ejection system!" Silence. "Ohgi?"
"That knightmare, it compromised his frame, then melted his cockpit before he could eject. His, two others, and then another trying to get yours out of the area. We lost most of our best aquatic pilots and..." He turned, glared at Lelouch's back. "And we got nothing to show for it."
"What...? So... Sugiyama is..."
"It was bait," Lelouch said, forcing himself to turn around and face them. "It was a trap. One I didn't see until it was too late. Their intent was to cripple our ability to attack from vectors that are difficult to defend, and they succeeded. And as a bonus, they managed to disable Britannia's strongest weapon."
Kallen looked at him, and... His eyes slipped from meeting hers as he saw the sadness in them.
So he didn't see them harden. "I should've killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance." Her head shook, her fists clenched. "It's not nothing. It's not worthless. We know he's there now. He's got the JSDF figured out, he said as much. But now we know he's there, and we know he's got a machine on par with the Lancelot! Next time I see him, I'm gonna rip that thing open and make him pay!"
It might've been an inspiring declaration of defiance. It might've been galvanising after a significant defeat and loss. Kallen armoured herself with those emotions. Vicious and spiteful, she would destroy the things that hurt her. The thing that took away those who mattered to her.
She left them behind, to be prepared for her rescue by the Britannians. For her being offered back to them, alongside the Lancelot, without contest or concession. A gesture of not only good will, but proving intent that the JSDF were on the side of Britannia.
But as she left the two men behind, they were left alone to confront what had yet to be discussed.
"I didn't realise it in time," Lelouch said. They both knew what he was talking about. They both knew this conversation had to happen.
Ohgi said nothing.
"You have my condolences for your friend," Lelouch offered. Sincerely, if with tension as the silence got under his skin. "But this is war. Losses are inevitable—"
A turn. Two heavy steps. Hands grabbing Lelouch by his collar. "DON'T—!" Fury in his eyes, Ohgi stared at the young man he had pinned his hopes on. The one he had entrusted with Japan's future. In Lelouch's expression he saw no fear, only expectation, only resolve. With a choked sound, the former resistance leader shoved him away again. "Don't tell me what war is! This isn't the first time I have to mourn a friend without even having a body to bury! I made my choice and so did Sugiyama. But what about you, huh?!"
"What are you asking?" Lelouch asked, trying to remember why Ohgi was like this, that meeting his anger with more anger wouldn't help. "I'm here, at risk just like the rest of you. If all of this fails, my head rolls."
"You say you're here, but I catch you zoning out like you'd rather be a thousand miles away! Do you have something more important than our lives on your mind?!"
The prince grit his teeth. Japanese culture didn't give a damn about excuses. "We all have distractions," he said. It was nothing special to him, nothing that excused what had happened, that was the proper Japanese response. An acceptance of responsibility, a refusal to make excuses.
"And yours get people killed!" Ohgi snapped. "So deal with it or—!"
"I can't!"
"WHY THE HELL NOT?!"
"BECAUSE—!" A strained expulsion of air thrust out of Lelouch's lungs, a desperate attempt to push out the anger, the defensiveness. "... Someone tried to kill my sister."
"... What?" Ohgi's anger stilled at the admission. The one word question asking several at once. "Your sister... You don't mean Cornelia. So..." He had done his research. Knowing it was Lelouch vi Britannia they were following, it was reasonable, even vital, to understand who he was. Why he was. And so if Lelouch had survived despite assumptions to the contrary...
"My sister. Nunnally," Lelouch confirmed. "A Chinese man of unknown origins broke into our home, assaulted her caretaker and tried to kill her. Now she's... I don't know. She's hurting, she's afraid, babbling apologies and I don't know why and I'm..." The frustration with it all had come through in clenched fists, tensed shoulders. "I'm here. I have to be here. I have to follow through with what I started, I have to live up to the faith people have put in me to bring them a brighter future. There's no other option."
There was another option. They both knew it. But the way he said it, it declared it was unacceptable. It... Was intentional. A choice he made to say it that way. He continued to struggle with the possibility that he could just leave, be there for his sister and abandon them all.
But he didn't say that, and so Ohgi didn't hear that. Instead, the JSDF leader heard a declaration that Lelouch was with them, despite having a desperate desire, a need, to be elsewhere. "I..." The fury he wanted to direct at Lelouch was strangled, restrained by sympathising with his situation. Even if it couldn't be so easily snuffed out. "No one else needs to know," he said. "The others, they have to trust you. They can believe it was just that new knightmare. That you couldn't have known. And we'll leave it there."
He was letting the matter die. Despite what he lost. "Thank you, Ohgi."
"I'm not doing it for you."
He was doing it for the cause. Their shared cause.
It wasn't quite an ideal outcome. Mostly for personal reasons. The excuse might have been a convincing one, but Lelouch would rather not have offered vulnerability like that. However, in a choice between a distrust in his leadership and that, he would accept it. It was the better outcome that avoided the necessity of putting on a show of implausible victory to keep his people in line. Better for Ohgi to be the only one doubting than for it to creep outward from him.
"You showed us you would die to make all of this happen for us," Ohgi continued, holding back his grief now that anger was no longer keeping it in check. "It's not just the people who die in war that make sacrifices, Lelouch. If we want to win, our lives aren't the only things we'll lose." He was building a head of steam. Talking, because he had to. Because he had to say what he wanted to say. "So you? You're here with us. We're fighting, and we're dying, so we can put you on that damn throne and make life better for those of us left at the end. You're here, understand?! Not daydreaming about your crippled sister!"
And he said too much.
...
It was said in anger. The words repeated as a recitation in Lelouch's mind. It was said in anger. It was said in anger. Justified anger. It was said in anger. "Let's arrange the pickup for the Britannians." Lelouch's voice had a chill to it that was unintentional. A tinge of vitriol seeping in against his will.
Ohgi knew he had crossed a line. He knew before Lelouch said anything at all. It was written on his face that he regretted it, that he wished he hadn't said it. But. In his vehemence, in his determination to make a stand for those lost, he didn't apologise. He didn't express his regret. "Right." Instead, an assent. They had work to do.
Doubt and mistrust hadn't formed in the JSDF as a whole. But a crack had formed, a small fissure now separated the two men.
-(-)-
Cornelia li Britannia was a woman of military precision and poise. An imperial princess, a soldier, a knight, an officer. Her behaviour had to be above reproach. Her well earned reputation demanded as much if it were to be maintained. For that reason, she couldn't reveal exactly how badly she wanted to strangle the people in the interrogation room with her.
"The Chief of ASEEC, Earl Lloyd Asplund. His assistant Cecile Croomy. Their star pilot and proven loose cannon Sir Kallen Stadtfeld. All of you undertook an unsanctioned, unannounced mission to assault the Chinese Federation fleet while it was en route to this very base. And the result? The destruction of one aircraft, its pilot killed in action, your prototype knightmare frame waterlogged and non-functioning, and both it and its pilot needing to be rescued by the JSDF of all people." With carefully controlled fury, she played the message Kallen had come back with.
"To the commander of the Britannian forces stationed in Kyushu, Cornelia li Britannia. The JSDF returns your pilot and knightmare, asking for nothing more than gratitude and while expressing our own. Tonight we have forced the enemy to reveal more of their hand. And with that, we take one more step towards victory."
"Ignoring my orders to get captured by enemy forces," Cornelia said. She didn't lean toward their sitting, handcuffed forms. She did not actively loom over them. There was no need. Poise and presence achieved more than posturing. "Explain to me why I shouldn't have you all imprisoned right across from our Chinese prisoners of war."
"We received orders," Kallen answered, not quailing under the princess' stare in the least. "While we were en route. Right, Lloyd?"
"Well, ah, I, ah, yes!" Lloyd exclaimed. His nervousness had nothing at all to do with fear of Cornelia and more to do with being prompted in a stressful social situation. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, though it being an interrogation that was rather the point. "Received a call, stand ready to intercept the Chinese fleet south of Katsu Island. That was what they said! Then they told us we were a-go so, eh, Sir Stadtfeld a-went! Hahaha...! Ha...!"
Only he found the joke funny.
"On... Whose... Orders?" Cornelia bit out, furious she even had to ask at this point.
"W-Well, I didn't especially ask, I don't care all that much about the distinct chain of command of all you military types with your Sergeants and Majors and such. But they offered the appropriate security codes to authorise a deployment."
"You're telling me someone stole authorisation codes for my forces and you don't even remember their name?!"
"Well... No. They weren't for your forces. They were those of the Area Eleven chain of command."
"You're saying... Clovis authorised it?" Cornelia asked, confusion slipping into disbelief. It seemed like a foolish thing to do, not just because the assault failed, but because he was deliberately crossing her. He should have known better than to try undermining her authority in the middle of a war. "That's your story."
The scientist shrugged. "It's the truth. It was a chance to get more data on the Lancelot's performance so I took it. And it was so very worth it! You can't imagine the kind of inspiration I've drawn from seeing my dear Lancelot facing off against another genuine seventh generation frame! I'm almost willing to forgive Rakshata for trying to beat me to such a significant advancement! A directed particle cannon, to see such a thing realised, and then see it tested against the Blaze Luminous system! I would love to get a look at the blueprints, or even just the specifications—!"
"Earl Asplund!" Cornelia barked. Her voice didn't rise in volume, only in force. "This is not a science experiment, this is war! You will follow my orders and my orders alone, is that understood?! Wasting valuable resources to protect our enemies is—"
"Did you just call it a waste?"
Hawkish violet eyes met challenging blue. "Yes, Sir Stadtfeld. I did. And I do not care if you have a problem with that due to undue sympathy for the numbers."
Kallen rose from her seat. Only her hands cuffed to the table prevented her from reaching her full height. So in comparison to Cornelia, she did slouch and loom. Appearing every bit the punk flouting the authority of the princess. "A seventh generation frame," she said with deadly seriousness. "We didn't know they had one yesterday. Now we do. We didn't know who their commander was. Now we do. That thing was on its way here, ready to take part in the assault on this base. Now it'll have to be repaired if they wanna use that chest cannon any time soon, assuming that's the only damage it took from it. On top of that, another ship destroyed when he tried to kill me, destroy the Lancelot, and failed. And do you know what, your highness?" The honorific hissed almost like a curse. "All of that happened because of those 'numbers'. They fought, and they died, for us! They sacrificed their lives, and because of that sacrifice we're in a better position to defend this land and its people! Don't you dare tell me any of that was a waste!"
... Brash.
... Ill-tempered.
... Too enamoured with the plight of the numbers.
And dangerously insubordinate.
This time, Cornelia did lean forward. Her face only the merest handful of inches away from the young pilot's. "I do not care how skilled of a pilot you might be. If the thought even enters your mind to speak to me like that again, I will put you in front of a firing squad. Am I understood?" Silence. Stillness. An utter lack of response. "I said. Am I. Understood?"
The near sneer on her face remained, but the knight gave the slightest, tightest nod.
And just like that, Cornelia returned to her former posture. "Earl Asplund, Ms Croomy, you will be joining the rest of ASEEC in performing repairs on the Lancelot. Sir Stadtfeld." The girl had not budged an inch, save to follow the princess with her eyes. "You will be confined to quarters until I say otherwise."
The earl's assistant was petrified. The pilot chose silent glaring. And so it was down to the socially incompetent scientist to say, "Understood, your highness!" as she left them in the room.
"Your highness." Guilford was right there by her side. As always. An ever-present comfort. "Shall we?"
"Yes."
They walked together to an adjoining room where two of her officers observed the three members of ASEEC. "Leave," she ordered. And with a bow and acknowledging, 'yes, your highness', they both did so.
As the door closed, Guilford moved with practiced ease to stand behind her. His hands skilfully kneading the muscles of her neck and shoulders as she opened and pulled down her military coat. "Thank you, Guilford."
"Of course, your highness. May I speak freely?"
"Of course. We are alone." It was how she always felt. He was her Knight of Honour. He had her complete trust and respect, just as she had his unquestionable loyalty. Propriety must be observed in front of others… But he could always speak his mind with only her.
"She frustrates you."
"Hm. Is it that obvious?" It was a joke. He knew instinctively she needed a shoulder massage the moment the interrogation was done. Of course it was obvious.
"You have had men imprisoned for lesser acts of insubordination than she just displayed. And she is only confined to quarters."
"We aren't in such an advantageous position that we can discard her so easily." The powerful woman let out a pleased hum as her devoted knight found just the right spot, a knot of tension undone with the deftness of experience.
"And if you were patiently waiting for the moment to serve her just desserts, your highness, you wouldn't have this level of tension."
"Hm." Her knight knew her too well. "Did I ever tell you why I so admired Marianne?"
"Often. But each instance seems to be a brand new reason."
"Ha! Of course. There was a great deal to admire. But relevant to now…" She cast her mind back, seeking out the memories of youth, indulging in them. "I was only young. Perhaps fifteen years old, I'm not certain. It was a visit to the Aries Villa. I was the big sister escorting Euphemia on a playdate with Lelouch and Nunnally. She was so small then! How she liked to scamper about as much as she could!"
Ah, she was getting sentimental, but Guilford, ever dutiful, let her indulge herself. "Of course, being as I was a teenager, I didn't want to spend my time babysitting toddlers and snuck off. Little did I know there was to be a visit from the Emperor that day. This incredibly imposing man, powerful in every way, the most powerful man in the world, my father. And there was Marianne, the commoner empress, absolutely tearing strips off of him with her sharp tongue! The cutting words she said to this man who seemed so impossibly implacable. Vicious, but with such righteousness and conviction behind them. She was right, in her mind, and she would make him see that. In the end, he did. The onslaught was for him to visit his children. That was not how it worked. We attended him, not the other way around. But on this one occasion, the Emperor of Britannia spent an hour watching over toddlers playing in the garden. My mother, she would never even consider making the attempt. Yet here this woman supposedly lesser than all his other wives got him to bend."
"You did say the comparison had merit," her knight recalled.
"To Marianne's early days at court, yes," Cornelia answered. "The brashness, the willingness to talk back over the smallest things even to her betters. Marianne learned to stop doing that. But that day with the Emperor, I saw she didn't stop entirely. If she truly believed in something, was willing to die on that particular hill, she would stand before the Emperor or even God himself and she would refuse to relent."
"You see that conviction in Sir Stadtfeld then."
"She has her cause." It was obvious now. The altercation with the Purebloods was one thing. Even Cornelia saw the foolishness in their methods and she was no advocate for the numbers. But this. Kallen Stadtfeld saw these dissidents, this recalcitrant faction of rogue numbers, and treated them with the same respect as her fellow Britannian soldiers. Perhaps more respect. She said nothing at all for the pilot who died carrying her to the fleet. "There may be a kernel of merit to her position. Rogue operatives or not, they did give their lives with the aim of protecting Area Eleven, assuming we can trust their stated motives." Which obviously they could not. "If her opinions had no merit, I would not be so merciful. They gave their lives, and as a result we gleaned valuable intelligence. That is worthy of respect."
"Even so, ASEEC engaged in an unsanctioned mission."
"Hm." Cornelia's lips curved downward into a severe frown. "That is beyond them. It seems my brother Clovis is playing games. I would very much like to understand exactly what he thinks he's doing."
Unfortunately, she still had a war to win.