MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM RAGNAROK 

Chapter 1 – Fateful Reunion 

        Sasha yawned absently as he stood on the Gargoyle's open cockpit hatch.  All around him, the Marzanna's hangar was abuzz with the usual routines and cleanup procedures that followed any sort of major sortie.  As his dull, glazed grey eyes took in the scenery, other Gargoyles were being taxied into their usual docking positions, cargo containers were being hauled where they needed to go, and maintenance workers flitted to and fro to tend to the usual this or that.  Eventually, he would be required to help sort the stolen goods and officially log what supplies the Marzanna was now replenished with and what it still had deficiencies in, as well as aid Yuri and Boris in repairing and re-equipping the mobile suits.  But that would all come later.  For now, he simply stood back and watched as everyone else did their part in the exact same way they'd been doing it for the last decade.  He yawned again, smaller this time.  As impressive as they were for their efficiency, watching the exact same routine play out now for about the thousandth time was decidedly tiresome.

        Grabbing at a winch connected to the hatch and slipping his foot through the rung attached to the end, Sasha slowly descended from the towering machine's chest down to the floor.  By now, the other pilots were doing the same thing, their suits having since docked.  As his feet touched the ground, Sasha noticed Adrik, a tall, cheesy-looking thirty-something in a sleeveless shirt and slicked-back blonde hair, step off from his Gargoyle and approach a short, overweight old man with balding grey hair.

        “'Ay Boris, pay up,” Adrik smirked, producing a large pair of aviator sunglasses and setting them on his brow.

        “Pay up for what?  You haven't earned anything,” Boris sneered in a thick accent and gravel voice as he busied himself with a container, his back to Adrik.

        “Fuck you, you saw me out there.  I bet you that booze you've been hoarding that I'd down at least half their escort.  Two kills earns some quality drink, now pay up.”

        Boris turned to face Adrik, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at the much taller pilot with a raised and agitated eyebrow, “I saw one kill in the junk field and an assist under the ship.  Luring them to Yuri doesn't count as your kill.  One earns no drink, Flyboy.”  With that, he turned back to face the crew handling the container as Adrik faked an expression of disbelief, looking around at anyone else who may have heard the exchange in an exaggerated attempt to hide his bruised ego.

        “Boris,” Sasha walked up behind the elder as Adrik put on his show.  Turning around again, Boris greeted Sasha with a sudden warm grin, much different from the scowl that met Adrik.

        “Ah, Sasha!  What can I do for you, my boy?”

        “Seeing as Adrik did take out at least a quarter of the escort, perhaps he could get half earnings.  We wouldn't want one of our best pilots being too sober to properly perform, after all,” Sasha quipped, the tone of his thinly-accented voice dry to the point of almost sounding serious.  Behind him, Adrik nodded in agreement.

        “Wel~l, I suppose,” Boris rubbed his chin and mused for a second, a reluctant expression on his face, “Tell you what, he gets a share if everyone does.  He's not the only one who deserves a reward for a job well done.”

        “So drinks all around, I take it?” Yuri said, entering himself into the conversation as he walked up next to Sasha.  Behind him was a slim, yet muscular woman with short, sandy brown hair, clad in a black tanktop and baggy pants.  As Yuri spoke, she folded her arms and eyed Boris with a facetiously keen glare.  One of the only women on-board, Nina was instantly recognizable, and her masculine mannerisms made her stand out particularly well from her more feminine counterparts.

        “Ahh, sure, sure,” Boris relented to the surrounding pilots with a wave of his hand, turning back to his work.  “I'll go and fetch a bottle when I finish up he--<DON'T PUT THAT THERE, ASSHOLE!>” he suddenly snapped at a crewman.  The sheer volume of his voice made everyone within earshot jump.  They all knew it well, but Boris' ability to turn temper on a dime was still no less jarring.  The first to recover, Yuri grinned amusedly and brushed some stray grey hairs from his face as he turned to the others.

        “Well, I guess that means we've got a celebration ahead of us.  You guys help clean up here and I'll go see if the captain would like to join in,”  Yuri said to the others.  In a rare show of military order, the trio saluted him as he looked across the hangar, eyeing a rather plain-looking figure tending his mobile suit.

        “Johann!” he called, “grab your guitar, we've got a party ahead of us!”

        “Will do, sir!” Johann replied.  The twenty-something pilot wasn't exactly distinct in appearance, with an unremarkably youthful face and plain, brown hair.  But he was well-liked all the same, and often provided some manner of musical entertainment during the Marzanna's downtime.  As he left his mobile suit and made for his bunk, Yuri turned to head towards the bridge.  Just as he did so, he patted Sasha on the shoulder.

        “Good job out there, by the way,” he said with a smile as he walked off.

        “Thank you, sir,” Sasha replied.

        “Good job in here, too!” Adrik chimed in from behind, grinning big as he slapped Sasha's other shoulder.  Turning, Sasha took note of Adrik and Nina wandering off to aid the crew in preparation for their celebration.  He saw Nina raise her hand and wave as she walked off.

        “Thanks for saving my ass out there, kiddo!” she shouted behind her.  Sasha nodded and let his eyes follow them briefly.  With their departure, he was by himself.  Looking around, he watched as maintenance crews busied themselves on the Gargoyles and cargo, Boris shouted, and Adrik and Nina pitched in to help move equipment around.  All in all, he saw little for himself to do, and less that caught his interest.  Just more of the usual routine.  Yawning again, he lingered out of the hangar and off into the ship's numerous connected corridors.  Though he had instigated all this talk of casual celebration, he had little interest in the idea himself.  Being around so many people he knew little about at one time wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

        After walking a few paces from the hangar, Sasha stopped and leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets.  The corridors of the Marzanna were about like the outside of the ship.  Deceptively dirty, with the odd rust stain and dripping stream of water making the otherwise well-kept hallways look multitudes more dank and filthy than they really were.  The dim, uneven lighting didn't help matters.  Still, to many of the crew, the halls provided their own sense of quiet coziness, and often provided an easy place to slip out to when one needed to sort out their thoughts.  Sasha was no exception, and in fact was the one who most often took advantage of this strange sanctuary.  Propped against the wall, Sasha tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander.  As much as it agitated some of the crew, especially Yuri, setting his thoughts adrift was like a calming meditation for Sasha.  His attempt to find somewhere he could be less impersonal.  Somewhere he could shake the numbing haze that seemed to linger over him constantly.  Yet no matter how much he tried, he always ended up back at one place, every single time.

        There was a sudden sharp pain across Sasha's forehead, causing him to jump suddenly.  So much for a moment's rest.  Snapping his eyes open, he looked up and noticed the back of a feminine-looking hand hovering over his face, a pair of knuckles jutting out from a loosely-formed fist.  Following the hand along the arm, Sasha looked over to its owner.  Like he didn't already know who it was.

        “And just what are you doing, moping around the halls again?” Chesna remarked, withdrawing her hand and folding both arms across her chest.

        “Wasn't moping,” Sasha said flatly, propping himself back against the wall.  Chesna did the same.

        “Oh, I know,” she started, smirking, “but you're still fun to tease.”  Sasha raised an annoyed eyebrow at that comment.

        She continued, “Now really, everyone's already gathered in the hangar and Johann's been asking where you were, why don't you shake off your gloomy persona for a couple hours and have a drink with us?  I promise it won't kill you.”

        “Hn, I think I'll pass,” Sasha quickly dismissed the idea.

        “You're always passing on these things.  It's not good to spend all of your free time alone like this,” Chesna's teasing demeanor transitioned into a stern, lecturing tone.  “There are still people on this ship who barely know you at all.  And besides, just wandering off and escaping into some daydream isn't going to make things any better for yourself.  I've tried it; it just doesn't work.”

        “Well, it's not like there's really much else to do around here during our off-time,” Sasha replied.  His eyes glanced absently across the hall as he spoke.

        “So socialize more!  It's not going to hurt anyone any if you slack off a bit with someone other than me or Yuri for a change.  Like right now, what's honestly stopping you from having a couple drinks with the crew?” Chesna's voice carried a pleading frustration to it.

        “It's...it's just not my thing,” Sasha shrugged, “I really can't say any more than that.”  Chesna sighed as he spoke, lowering her gaze.  There was an uneasy silence.

        “It used to be,” she said eventually, her voice suddenly sad and defeated.  Sasha glanced up at her, caught off guard by this new shift in tone.

        “Sis,” he let the word slip.  For a brief instant, the haze in his eyes cleared as his concerned gaze fixed on his sister.

        The two were interrupted by another voice coming down the corridor.

        “Yo, Sasha!”  It was Johann.  The two siblings turned their attention to him as he trotted up to greet them, a half-filled glass in hand.  “I've been looking everywhere for you, we're just about to begin.  Oh, brought ya a drink.  Figured we might wanna get a head start before Boris and Adrik soaked it all up on their own,” Johann handed the glass out to Sasha.  Before it could reach him, however, Chesna quickly intercepted it, snatching the glass out of his hand and taking a quick sip.

        “Good work, Johann,” she said, suddenly switching gears back to her usual, confident self.  “You go on ahead, Sasha's not feeling too good right now.  Something he ate.  I'll catch up in a minute.”

        “Ah, sucks to hear,” Johann winced.  Sasha nodded slightly in response, going along with Chesna's bluff.

        “Oh well.  Next time I guess.  Later!” Johann turned and waved behind him, heading briskly towards the hangar, where there could already be heard the growing din of the crewmen having a good time.  Setting her drink atop a nearby fusebox, Chesna draped an arm around Sasha's shoulders, bringing her other arm around front of him and hugging him lightly.  The gesture caught him off-guard.

        “I worry about you, Sasha,” she was suddenly sullen and serious again.  “I know you've been through a lot, but I don't want to see you carry on like this because of it.  You have to at least try to open up some more.  Things won't get any easier by keeping everyone at arm's length like this.”

        “...” Sasha was silent, his only response being to reach up and touch Chesna's forearm.

        “Promise me you'll try.  Okay?”

        “I'll try,” he said at length, adding with a thought, “but today I'd really like to just rest.  I actually am kind of tired.”

        “Alright, alright,” Chesna replied, removing herself from Sasha and retrieving her drink.  From down the hall, they could both hear the sound of Johann striking up the first few chords on his guitar.

        “Well, I'm going to go put in an appearance.  I'll stop by later once I'm off duty.”  With that, Chesna turned slowly and made her way to the hangar.  Sasha watched her leave, waiting until she'd vanished from sight before turning and walking the opposite direction, towards his private quarters.

        Sasha's quarters contrasted sharply in appearance from those of his sister.  Where Chesna's room was draped head to toe in a stately, antique luxury of sorts, Sasha's room was virtually threadbare.  A handful of photographs were the extent of the room's decoration, and furniture consisted of a simple wooden wardrobe in the far corner, a fairly sizable bed across from the door with an accompanying night table, and a desk with a built-in computer console and lamp, and various forms and papers strewn about.  For someone’s personal living space, it was almost too empty and simplistic.  However, for someone like Sasha, it was an ideal fit.

        Shutting the door behind him, Sasha walked to his bed and stripped off his grey, button-up long sleeve, leaving his faded dark-coloured T-shirt on underneath.  Tossing the shirt on the floor, he flopped onto his bed, and brushing his loosely-kept hair out of his face and placing his hands behind his head, stared silently up at the ceiling.  Slowly, he allowed his mind to wander again.  He felt perturbed by something.  His sister’s reaction, specifically, and what it was that made her react that way.  Normally, despite his numb frame of mind, talking with Chesna, or to a lesser extent Yuri, would always be able to bring him out of it.  Or at the very least, provide a sufficient distraction so that he could forget his unsocial tendencies for a moment.  Just now though, not even her presence could shake him.  He actually gave her the same cold reception he gives to everyone else.  He didn’t know why, and it bothered him.  Maybe he really was just tired?  He hoped that was the case, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d felt much more anxious and distracted in general lately than he had in a while.  Something truly was worrying him.  But what?

        Before he’d realized it, sleep had overtaken him.  Despite the lack of consciousness, though, his mind continued its own, meandering journey, as the daydreams turned into dreams of a more conventional sort.  It wasn't long until his dreams, as they did even when he was wide awake, took him to the exact same place.  The exact same final destination.  It was a field, hilly, with fresh green grass overlooking a large building of sorts in the distance.  The air was cool and crisp, despite a sky that appeared to be overcast.  In the field were a pair of figures, their precise forms difficult to make out, but definitely human at the very least.  They ran, they chased one another, obviously at play.  At best, Sasha could usually only deduce that they were children based on their size and how they acted.  And that was on a particularly lucid day.

        This time, things were different, however.  Things were vivid.  Very vivid.  He could make out details that weren't there before.  Individual blades of grass, the details on the building, the clouds overhead, and even the children.  He could make out the clothes they were wearing.  Expensive, fashionable, and well kept.  He could see that they were indeed playing.  It was a game of tag, and as they ran, they laughed, called out each other's names, and taunted each other playfully.  He couldn't hear their voices—all he heard was the wind around them as it rushed past—nor could he read their lips.  But he knew what they were saying, down to each and every word.  This was real.  He had been here before, not just in dreams but in life.  At least that's how it felt.  He could hear nothing but the wind, but knew the children's voices.  He could smell nothing, touch nothing, but knew the scent of this wind and knew how this grass felt.  He knew this place, but couldn't quite say its name.  And most importantly, he knew these children.  As he watched, one of them ran by him—a girl—oblivious to his presence.  Suddenly a reflex hit him, and turning to face her, Sasha called her name in his dream.

        “Ga...”

        “—Sasha Mazenov please report to the bridge,” Sasha awoke to the echoing voice of the ship's intercom, his eyes snapping open as he sat up quickly.

        “Once again, would Yuri Ninorich and Sasha Mazenov please report to the bridge.”

        After yawning and stretching his arms into the air, Sasha flopped back onto the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling.  Taking a second to regather just where he was and what his surroundings were, he then tried to recall the dream he had just had.  Somehow he knew it was important.  Somehow he knew it stood out from his usual dreams and daydreams.  But being awakened suddenly had jarred his concentration, and scattered whatever fragments of memory he had of it.  And that crushing numbness was back.  The abnormal, anxious kind that was the root of his earlier unusual behavior.  It was worse than before, too.  Was the dream a part of it?  And just how long had he been asleep, anyway?  Glancing over at the clock sitting atop his nightstand, he realized he had been asleep a good two and a half hours.  Damn.  But as he looked at the clock, he noticed something else out of the corner of his eye.  Focusing his gaze on the object, he recognized it instantly as a photograph, taken of two children on a hillside.  He felt a strong sense of deja vu from the image, but still couldn't completely gather what it was.  Sighing, he sat up at the edge of the bed and snatched up his shirt from the floor.  He'd have to try and sort it out later.  Right now he was being summoned.  And it sounded important.

        Stepping onto the bridge, Sasha immediately noticed Yuri and his sister looking very intently at something on the forward monitor, above the front external window.  They were so affixed on it that they hardly acknowledged Sasha as he entered.

        “Took you long enough,” Yuri commented, barely looking back.

        “Well, at least I'm not late then,” Sasha rebutted, a shade of his usual demeanor around Yuri and Chesna showing through his numb exterior.  Yuri motioned his head in acknowledgment and directed Sasha's eyes to the screen.

        “So what do you make of this?” Yuri asked, nodding to it.  A momentary glance told Sasha it was an electronic mail, a communique sent specifically to the Marzanna.  Squinting, he tried to read its small type.  As if sensing what he was trying to do, Chesna read the letter aloud.

        “'To those of the ship-for-hire, Marzanna: we currently seek aid in the retrieval of precious cargo.  Given your reputation for efficiency within the 'freelance employment' community, and knowing you to be in the area, we extend this job offer exclusively to you.  Pay will be very handsome.  Meet us at Colony 0512, The Haven, if interested.,'” she paused, then finished, “Signed, 'The Saviour.'”

        “The Saviour?  Quite a name.  How do they even know this ship's address?” Sasha inquired.

        “That's what we're trying to figure out,” Yuri responsed, rubbing his stubble-rich chin with his right hand.  “And this location they're referring to...” he trailed off.

        “Colony 0512 is Vienna, we know that much,” Chesna picked up on his thought process, “but this 'Haven.'  Sounds like it could be a restaurant or something along those lines.”

        “A bar,” Sasha mused aloud.  “Isn't Vienna both a big port colony, and a backwater Allaster base?  A place like that might be crawling with bars for the workmen and soldiers to stop in at.”

        “Good point,” Chesna answered.

        “That brings up another possibility, though.” Yuri said, turning to the sibling duo, “It's an Allaster base.  And today isn't the first time we've crossed the Empire.  This could easily be a trap.”

        “But if the Empire knew our mailing address, then they'd likely know our positioning signal.  We'd have been attacked long ago, not to mention we'd have never been able to surprise that freighter,” Sasha responsed.

        “You're right.  Hm,” Yuri pondered to himself, and all three trailed off into silence, thinking.

        “The Saviour,” Chesna said, breaking the silence.  “Do we know of any pirate groups or political radicals by that name?”

        “None, ma'am.  Our information network shows no results,” a crewman replied, glancing up from a computer console.  Sasha and Yuri nodded in agreement, Yuri muttering a “No, I can't recall anything, either,” under his breath.

        “I'm still more concerned with the mailing address,” Sasha said, “It's not like we've ever had any allies to pass that information along to.”

        “Yeah, as far as I know, we've never let that information slip.  All of our outgoing messages have been through encrypted channels,” Chesna added.

        “They may have decoded our signal,” Sasha proposed, only to be quickly shot down by Yuri.

        “No, or at least not likely.  We're pirates, not a political group or Confederation remnant.  We're big enough to be a target on their radar, but not so much that they'd be burning resources to capture and monitor our messages.  If that were the case, they'd have so many ships hunting us that we could barely move.  And we've only seen two rather inactive patrols in as many weeks as it is.”  He paused, “And it's unlikely that any rival pirates or mercenaries would even have the proper technology to do any decrypting.”  Again, all three went silent, musing to themselves.

        “I think,” Yuri said, the others looking up at him suddenly, “that the best course of action here would be to actually meet this 'Saviour.'  Hear what he or she has to say.”

        “Yuri,” Chesna focused her gaze on him with a look of concern.

        “As it is, we lack enough information on this person to say whether they're truly genuine yet or not.  And if not the Empire, then there's nobody else I can think of who'd set the kind of trap we'd have to worry about.”

        “Besides,” Sasha chimed in, “if this 'Saviour's' offer is genuine, it'll help us out immensely in terms of supplies.  I haven't had a chance to look at the actual reports yet, but the amount of stuff we swiped off of that freighter isn't going to last long.”

        Chesna closed her eyes and contemplated the decision, “Alright.  But take the lander into the colony.  I don't want to risk that Allaster base catching scent of us and trying to pick a fight.”

        “Will do,” Yuri answered.  “I guess needless to say, Sasha will be coming along.  Whether they're genuine or not, we'll need his lousy attitude at the negotiating table.”  He grinned.  Sasha eyed him with a sort of look, as if to jokingly remark, “well fuck you, too, old man.”

        “Fine,” Chesna spoke with a masked sense of increased reluctance, turning to face the outside window.  Sensing her growing unease, Yuri stepped closer.

        “<Don't worry,>” he whispered, “<the first sign of trouble and we'll be out of there in a flash.  You can trust me on this.>”

        “<I know,>” she replied in a similar hushed tone.  “<All the same, something about this situation doesn't set right with me.  Be extra careful.>”

        “<Of course.>”  He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently before turning back to face Sasha, “C'mon, kid.  I wanna locate this 'Haven' of theirs before the colony's sundown period.”

        “Yes sir,” Sasha responded before the two of them made for the bridge's exit, and stepped out.  Chesna looked back over her shoulder, watching them leave.

        “<Be careful.>”

-------- 

        As the Marzanna set a course for the nearby colony of Vienna, the Perseus Class ship Ranger was preparing to do just the opposite.  The small, decidedly backwater Imperial base established at Vienna—one of only three in the twenty-two colony EDEN-05 cluster—was typically used as the launch point for patrols assigned to monitor the desolate wasteland not far from the region.  The vast, haunting Graveyard, which had at one time been a second space colony cluster placed in the same orbit as EDEN-05.  Most often, it was this heavy assault cruiser Ranger that was assigned to the mundane task.  And in more than a hundred excursions to the decimated former colony region, the ship had seen next to nothing in the way of activity.  As a result, to be assigned to the Ranger had come to be viewed by both the vessel's crew and the other Imperial installations in the area as one of the most unenviable and dead-end assignments in the whole of the Empire.

        This time, however, things were different.  As the Ranger prepared to embark on yet another trip into the wasteland, the normally uninspired crew was much abuzz with activity.  There was a renewed energy among those on-board, and an urgent, hushed murmur could be heard throughout the ship’s hallways.  Just a few hours ago, not far from their determined patrol route, an Autolycus Class freighter had been brutally attacked by a pirate ship, its mobile suit escort destroyed with little effort, and its cargo completely stolen.  What’s more, the pirate ship responsible was one that had earned quite a reputation among the Empire’s colonial outposts.  For once, the Ranger not only had the chance to see some action, but it would be action against the Marzanna, of all ships.

        All along the Ranger's halls, pilots and officers could be seen talking, most of them clustered around the entrance to a spatious briefing room in anticipation of a special announcement.  It was an odd atmosphere, with much of the chatter wavering between outrage at the attack, and excitement at the prospect of combat.  Some even carried ambitions of glory, boasting that they would be the ones to bring the infamous Marzanna down.  Somewhat removed from the commotion, two individuals clad in pilots' coveralls talked amongst themselves, floating casually in the hallway.  One of them was a tall young man with broad shoulders, and greyish-white hair cut short in a combed-back style.  The other was a woman appearing roughly around the same age, with a slim feminine figure and long, deep red hair, which she kept tied in a tight ponytail to prevent it from scattering outwards in the zero gravity environment.  On the man’s face was an expression of anger as he muttered aloud.  On the woman’s face was a cool calmness, her eyes closed as she sipped at a bottle of water and listened to the man complain.

        “It’s ridiculous!  What kind of coward attacks a noncombatant ship like that and then leaves the crew stranded!?  It’s inhumane!” the man growled.  Clearly he had been at this for a while.

        “It’s simple self-preservation, Bale.  They attack the ship because they need what it has,” the woman replied with an even, matter-of-fact tone to her voice as she brushed off his rhetorical question.

        “That doesn’t make it right!”

        “Not saying it did.  I’m just pointing out that it’s only to be expected that they’ll attempt to minimize their own losses by attacking weak targets incapable of putting up a proper defense.  Not everyone works on your devout sense of honor.”

        “Well, all the same they fucked up this time,” Bale retorted, glancing over at the main crowd briefly, “you don’t hit an Imperial ship this close to port and get away without repercussions.”

        The woman shrugged, “They have so far.  The rescue team that retrieved the freighter’s crew saw no sign of them.  The idea that they’re still in this area is pure speculation; they could be long gone by now.”

        Bale grimaced.  She had a tendency to be right about analytical things like this.

        “What I’m more agitated by,” she continued, opening her eyes and glancing up at him, “is just where in the hell were Sentinel during all of this?  They were formed with the express purpose of keeping pirates and insurgents in line, and here we’re the ones having to go on these patrols and pick up their messes.”

        “From what I hear, Commodore Gashkin’s at Gateway right now, and has most of the Sentinel fleet there for some naval review.  Some big deal about the Emperor making some announcement,” Bale shrugged.  Political matters weren’t exactly his thing.

        “So that excuses maybe the last week.  But what about the past couple years?” the woman spun her water bottle in the air absently as she spoke, “They’ve been lazy.  Not much else to it.  And instead of giving us more funding to fill in their gaps, Allaster just keeps sinking money into them.”

        “Yeah, that’s how it goes,” Bale trailed off, the two of them going silent and allowing the ambient voices down the hall to fill in for them.  The woman floated back and reclined against the wall, as Bale blankly stared off in the general direction of the briefing room.

        “So…” he said suddenly after a few moments, “have you thought about it?”

        “Ugh, Bale!” the woman snapped, snatching the water bottle out of the air roughly and turning her head away from him with a sharp and hostile gesture.

        “What?  It’s just a simple question!”

        “And you’ve asked it every day for the past week!  Look, we tried it, it’s over.”

        “You said you’d think about it!”

        “I did.  And we’re still over,” the woman glared at him out of the corner of her eye, very much annoyed.

        “Aw, c’mon,” Bale whined, floating towards her and resting his hand on the wall by her head, “I thought we had some great chemistry going.  It could work if you’d just be a little more patient.”       

        She shook her had and brushed his hand away, “I’m just not interested.  Sorry.  You begged for me to give you a chance, I did, and I’m just.  Not.  Interested.”  She was now staring him down fiercely.

        “So what is it about me that doesn’t interest you?  Maybe it’s something I can fix,” Bale practically begged.

        “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d have told you?”

        “I...” Bale tried to respond to that comment, but the instant she said it, he knew she was right.  She was the brutally honest sort of woman.  Ironically, that’s what drew Bale to her in the first place.

        “Now come on,” she said with a frustrated sigh, kicking off from the wall and drifting towards the briefing room, “the commander’s going to be starting soon.”  Without a word, Bale followed.  Injured pride and all.

        Despite the large size of the briefing room, it was still overcrowded with people by the time the actual meeting began.  The numerous desks that filled the room were already claimed by those who had arrived early, and those who stood or floated wrapped all the way around the walls and out into a massive cluster of people in the doorway.  The prospect of pursuing the Marzanna had drawn quite a crowd, and even those who were guaranteed not to be involved were curious enough to listen in.  Managing to squeeze through the mob at the door, Bale and the redheaded woman made their way across the room and took a cramped wall space next to two other pilots, a thin man with well-trimmed black hair and a dark-skinned woman whose shoulder-length dyed orange hair was done up in a tight bun.  The redhead took her place on one side of the pair, while Bale took his on the other.

        “Have we missed anything?” Bale asked, a dejected ring to his voice.

        “The commander hasn’t even taken the stand yet.  So what’s eatin’ you?” the thin man asked.

        “Nothing, Chris, nothing,” Bale tried to wave him off.  Chris glanced to his left, eyeing the redheaded woman briefly before turning back to Bale.

        “She shut you down again, didn’t she?” he whispered, making sure the two next to him didn’t hear.  Bale simply nodded halfheartedly and tried to look another direction.

        “Alright!  Quiet down everyone, let’s get started,” a loud, commanding voice swept over the room.  Almost instantly, all chatter went silent, and all eyes turned to look up at the podium at the head of the room.  There, a tall and stately middle-aged man in a dark grey uniform stood, a handful of papers in his hands.  His small, blue eyes scanned the room, making sure everyone had their full attention on him before continuing.

        “Now as I’m sure you’ve all heard, approximately four hours ago at around 0930, the Autolycus Class freighter Camelback, heading for EDEN-03 from Vienna base, was attacked by a rogue ship and stripped of its cargo.  The freighter suffered irreparable damage to its defensive weapons and engines, and four pilots were killed in its defense.”  He paused, allowing the fact that there were casualties to sink in before continuing.

        “We have been able to confirm, through eyewitness reports and audio recordings that this rogue ship was indeed the fugitive Antigone Class, Marzanna.  And we—” he was cut off suddenly as a low tone of hushed voices rose up from all in attendance.

        “And we have reason to believe,” the commander raised his voice over the noise, “that this ship may still be within the vicinity of EDEN-05 and the Graveyard zone.  Now unfortunately, due to the Sentinel review at Gateway, we're too shorthanded from temporarily filling in their regular patrol routes to dispatch a full-scale search for the rogue Antigone.  And although Sentinel has offered to dispatch a ship as reinforcement, the earliest it will be able to arrive is approximately forty-eight hours from now.  Until then, we have been advised to continue tracing our standard routes, and to make any modifications to standard procedure that we see fit.”  The commander paused briefly to adjust his papers, an uneasy commotion arising once more from his captivated audience.

        “Now, as a result, the Ranger's scheduled patrol will depart in five hours as planned.  However, as a means of covering a greater range, I am ordering that a second mobile suit team accompany those already assigned to this tour,” with that, the commotion grew louder, specifically among the pilots, many of whom either groaned in objection, or expressed an overeager desire to volunteer.

        “Commander Iverson,” a hand went up and a voice called out above the crowd's noise.  It was the redheaded woman.  “May I ask which team will be joining this tour?”

        “Well, as a means of adhering somewhat to the regular rotation, it will be the team whose tour was originally scheduled to be after today's.  That means your team, Lieutenant Valentine.”

        “But sir,” Valentine started to object.

        “I know, I know.  One of your wingmen is currently sidelined with an injury.  That is why I will be taking Ensign Denim's place for the time being.  I will also be assuming temporary command of your team.  Given the nature of our enemy, it is my belief that my experience may be needed should we encounter them.  I hope there are no objections.”

        “None, sir.” Valentine said reluctantly, falling back against the wall.

        “However,” Iverson continued, his eyes on Valentine, “do not think that I've failed to consider your recent performance of late.  In fact, quite the opposite.”  He then turned and addressed the crowd as a whole.

        “As a side note to this briefing, I'm sure many of you have been wondering about the new mobile suits we acquired during our recent resupply.  As many of you have suspected, we were indeed lucky enough to acquire not only a pair of Minotaurs, but also a pair of new model IMS-14 Griffins,” Iverson grinned with pride as he spoke, “fresh off the assembly line.”  Once again, a low murmur arose from the audience, as Valentine eyed her commanding officer curiously.

        “One of the Minotaurs has been assigned to myself as a personal unit.  The other will be issued as I see fit.  As for the Griffins, I have given a lot of thought to who I would award them to.  And after poring over the service records of each and every one of you, I've come to the decision that you, Lieutenant Valentine, shall be assigned one of the new units.  Congratulations.  You've earned it.”  The low crowd noise rose in a collective commending tone, a few officers and pilots even applauding.  Valentine simply nodded, and turned to face Iverson.

        “Thank you, sir,” she said simply.

        “Not at all.  And as for the second unit, I have decided to award it to someone with an almost equally impressive record,” his eyes followed along the wall, and met Bale's with a smile, “Lieutenant Caulfield.”

        “Me, sir?” Bale asked, the crowd already giving him a similar reception.

        “Of course, congratulations.”  Iverson allowed the two pilots time enough for their peers to  flatter them over their new unit assignments before continuing the briefing.

        “So, with that out of the way,” he continued, “as stated, Valentine, you and your spaceworthy teammates, Emmerich and Mujad,” Chris and the dark-skinned girl next to Valentine quickly refocused their attention to the front of the room, “will be accompanying me on a secondary route once we reach the Graveyard.”  Iverson then turned to Bale, “Caulfield, your team will take the standard route around the zone's far side.  Odds are good that the ship is taking shelter within the Graveyard trying to wait out any military repercussions, so with two teams scouring the area, we should be sure to spot it.  In the event either team encounters the ship, approach with extreme caution, and immediately call both the other team, and the Ranger itself, for immediate support.”

        Iverson eyed Bale and Valentine especially sharply, “Though the Camelback's escort was nothing but fresh academy grads, the Marzanna's mobile suit team has proven formidable enough to even down an ace or two in their time.  No heroics.  Not from you, nor anyone else in your team.  Is that understood?”

        “Sir!” Bale and Valentine both barked aloud in unison.

        “Good.  The rest of you are dismissed.  Caulfield, prep your team for usual procedure.  Valentine, have your team meet me in ninety minutes to review our alternate route.  That is all.”  With that, the massive gathering of people in the briefing room immediately jarred itself loose from wherever it was seated, the individuals comprising the mob now making for the door as a herd.  Along the back wall, Bale, Chris, Mujad, and Valentine remained.

        “Congrats on the new suit, girl!” Ensign Mujad piped up in her thinly-accented voice, patting Valentine on the shoulder.

        “Yeah, old Iverson wasn't kidding when he said you deserved it,” Chris chimed in.

        “Thanks,” Valentine said, still a little surprised herself at the reassignment.  As the four lingered, she glanced over briefly, and accidentally locked eyes with Bale.  It was brief, but pointed.  As soon as their gazes met, her eyes narrowed and she turned away quickly, clearly agitated.  Despite their otherwise strong friendship, Valentine remained frustrated by Bale's pleading behavior not just prior to the briefing, but for many days—weeks—beforehand.  Though she found it flattering to an extent, she really did wish he would take a hint.  She just wasn't interested.  Out of the corner of her eye, Valentine watched as Bale kicked off from his wall spot, and headed out the door on his own.  Chris and Ensign Mujad remained behind, continuing to place praise on their trusted superior.

-------- 

        The interior of Vienna colony was just like the interior of nearly every other space colony orbiting Earth.  In simple terms, it was one expansive, destitute slum, with shoddily-constructed housing clusters and marketplaces serving the population to the best of their abilities.  Which, unfortunately, wasn't very much.  The streets barely saw any actual traffic, and all along them people in tattered clothes lined the curbs.  Some were simply beggars, others more dangerous and desperate, but most were simply just there.  Nowhere else to go but a filthy apartment, and nothing to do but wander aimlessly.  These wasting, living ghosts were all that remained of a once proud and bustling collective of colonial nations, though they now merely sat idly by as Sasha and Yuri walked past them.

        “According to that old guy at the port,” Yuri mused, mostly to himself, “The Haven should be somewhere along this street.”  Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Sasha to see if he had anything to add.  But Sasha remained silent, warily glaring around him at his surroundings.  He watched Sasha for a few seconds before shrugging and facing forward again.

        “They're not going to bite, Sasha,” Yuri said, touching a pistol tucked into the back of his pants, “they know we're armed.  They wouldn't be so stupid.”

        “It's not the people,” Sasha said in a low voice, “it's the place.  It's hideous.  Looks like everywhere else we go.”

        “You mean like a war zone?”  Yuri's reply didn't receive an answer.  Glancing back again, Yuri noticed Sasha's eyes focused on him sharply, burning a hole through him before resuming their suspicious sweep of the streets around him.  Yuri simply sighed and looked forward again.  It was meant in jest, and would usually be taken as such.  But Yuri knew now was not one of those times, and knew it wouldn't be best to press it any further.  The two walked in silence for the next several moments.

        “Here,” Sasha said, breaking the silence and stopping suddenly.  As Yuri turned around, Sasha motioned to a small, unassuming brick-and-mortar building with carefully shut windows, wedged tightly in between two larger condemned structures which looked to have been shops in a previous lifetime.  Above the windowless green door was a sign, half covered in black spraypaint.  All that could be read of it were the letters 'ave,' with half of an 'H' visible in front of them.

        “Good eye,” Yuri complimented Sasha and approached the door, knocking three times with the back of his hand.  After a couple moments, he received no reply.  Knocking again, he was again met with an unmoving door.

        “Hah.  Maybe they're out to lunch,” Yuri pondered jokingly.

        “Maybe we should break it down,” Sasha answered dryly.

        “Good to know your sense of humor's coming back,” Yuri jabbed.  The two were interrupted suddenly by the sound of a door latch and a ringing bell.  Slowly, the door cracked open, and the form of a man dressed in bartender's garb peered out at them.  He looked to be a twenty-something with dusty brown hair, cropped short in a decidedly civilian style.  Above him, a chain connecting the door to the frame could be seen pulled taut.

        “What do you want?” the bartender said curtly.

        “Scotch, if you have any,” Yuri answered sarcastically, an eyebrow raised at the bartender's curious behavior.  “Also we're here to see someone, if you don't mind.”

        “Who told you to come he—” the bartender was cut short by something inside.  Turning away, he seemed to converse with someone else on the other side of the door.  He then shut it just enough to undo the chain, and then opened it wide enough to allow Sasha and Yuri to step inside.

        “Sorry about the inconvenience,” he said as they walked past him.  The second Sasha got his feet over the threshold, the bartender shut the door promptly, replacing the chain and fiddling with a couple more locks.  Sasha and Yuri exchanged glances quickly, both of them immediately sensing something amiss with their situation.  Looking around, they noticed that the bar appeared to be empty.  No sign of the apparent second person they thought the bartender to be conversing with.  The entire place was very dimly lit, with the corners of the room pitch black.  The only real light to be seen came from cracks in the window blinds, as well as a couple dim lamps, and a dull glow coming from a particularly bright light in another closed off room along the back wall.  The only sound, aside from footsteps, came from a rusty ceiling fan as it creaked lazily above them.

        “You're with the Marzanna?” the bartender spoke up, taking his place back behind the bar.

        “Yeah, someone called us here,” Yuri replied.

        “That'd be me,” a woman's voice emanated from a particularly dark corner in one of the far ends of the room, located well away from any windows.  As Yuri and Sasha looked over, they noticed a tiny orange light, and a steady trail of cigarette smoke wafting out of the shadows.  Upon closer examination, they also noticed a pair of feminine legs that similarly seemed to just appear from the pitch black.  They were shapely, and the hem of a dark blue skirt could be seen right above the knees.  Sasha and Yuri were taken by surprise by this sudden presence.  How did they miss this woman sitting there?  Something was definitely not right here.  All the same, Yuri began to make his way over to the table where the woman was sitting.

        “Sir,” the bartender interrupted, eyeing Yuri's back pocket, “I'm going to need to take your weapon.  The kid's, too—.”

        “Leave them be, James,” the woman again interrupted him.  “I think we can trust them.”  Her voice was calm and smooth, and suggested a keen intelligence was attached to it.  However, the lips and face speaking that voice could not be seen.  Not even in silhouette.

        “Am I correct to assume that you're the so-called 'Saviour' who sent us that message?” Yuri inquired sternly as he approached the table and took a seat across from the woman.  Sasha did the same, pulling a chair from another table and seating himself at the corner nearest to Yuri.

        “Quite right,” the woman, Saviour, replied.

        “It would be nice if you showed us your face,” Sasha said curtly, “It makes business deals like these much easier when you believe you can trust that your partners are honest enough to face you.”

        “My my, you cut right to the chase, don't you?” Saviour spoke with a condescending air, “And how old are you, young man?  Eighteen?”

        “Twenty, now stop evading the subject,” Sasha said with growing agitation.

        Saviour laughed quietly to herself, “Not one for small talk either.  All right.  The reason I can't show you my face is not because I myself am untrustworthy.  Rather, it's more for...my own security.”

        “Basically the same thing; you're a wanted criminal and a con artist, looking to set us up on any manner of ridiculous assignment that you can easily bail out of later when things get messy,” Sasha said quickly, nearly cutting her off.

        “Sasha, now,” Yuri interrupted him, “remember, we said we'd at least hear this offer out.”  he then turned his attention to Saviour, “Go ahead, but get right to the point.”  There was silence at first, and the two watching Saviour could see the light of her cigarette float up to her mouth, brighten, and grow dim again, a thin stream of smoke slowly escaping the shadows.

        “It's a simple search and recovery mission,” she said, sliding a blank manila envelope across the table.  “There's a piece of equipment I and my people would like to retrieve.  Unfortunately, it's in an area we can't quite reach.”

        “Why can't you reach it?” Yuri asked.

        “The usual suspects.  The Empire, Sentinel,” she paused, “It's in an out-of-the-way area, but it'll take time to find it, and with our resources, we'd be discovered before we could locate and extract it.”

        “What 'area?'  Where is it?” Sasha spoke up.

        “A derelict space colony,” the woman replied after a second of thought.

        “What 'derelict colony?'” Sasha's eyes narrowed.  “There's something you're not telling us.”  There was silence, all three individuals sitting there, watching one another.  Saviour ultimately broke the tense standoff.

        “The Graveyar—”

        “This discussion is over.  No deal,” Sasha said quickly, cutting her off.  Before the words even completely left the woman's mouth, he was already on his feet and walking towards the door.

        “Sasha, stop,” Yuri responded, trying to collect himself as well as he stared at the woman sharply.

        “But it's—”

        “Sasha!”  Sasha's hand froze on the doorknob.  The bartender, who had started after Sasha, also froze.

        “Just what kind of sick joke is this?” Yuri turned his attention to Saviour, now showing fresh agitation of his own.

        “No joke.  The offer is genuine.  I know that place holds history for some people, but there really is something buried there that we need.  The pay is real, in the hundreds of thousands if you accept,” the woman spoke fast, but retained her cool composure flawlessly.

        “Money's not the issue,” Yuri said sternly, “and you obviously know that.”

        “Oh?” the woman made an inquisitive tone that struck Yuri as terribly insincere.

        “You know that 'some people' have a history with the Graveyard,” Sasha said sharply, walking back over to the table, but remaining standing, “But you somehow knew specifically that we had our own history there.  That's why you hesitated.  You also somehow managed to get ahold of our mailing address, though we keep all traceable information about the Marzanna a guarded secret.  You know more about us than we normally allow people to know, about both our past and present.”

        Saviour responded with silence, and another drag off of her cigarette.

        “Now who are you?”

        “The container the object is kept in carries the identification signature CC2345,” she said simply.

        “That's not what I'm asking!”

        “The warehouse the container is located in lies right along an Allaster patrol route.  You'll need to be quick.”

        “And what makes you think we're going to agree to this!?” Sasha slammed his hand on the table, still shaken by mention of the Graveyard.  Saviour went silent.

        “Sasha's right,” Yuri spoke up, “it's going to be hard to convince the rest of the crew—the captain, especially—to accept this job offer.”

        “It's simple pragmatism,” Saviour replied.  “I know that ship you attacked only contained a modest assortment of supplies.  Not enough to last you at all.  You will need money.  Soon.  And opportunities like this don't come up every day.”  With that, she did something that caught Yuri off guard.  She leaned forward, closer to him.  She was still well hidden, but he could see a rough, black silhouette of her face, and a few stray blonde hairs creeping out from behind the shadows.

        “Pirates like you operate chiefly on survival.  Not pride or sentimentality.  I know you'll agree to this, and even that captain of yours will have no choice but to put her emotions aside.  And whether I know everything or nothing about you won't matter once I hand you your paycheck and send you on your way.”  Yuri glared at the woman.  He wanted to tell her off, to flatly reject the offer and walk out right then and there.  But as much as he hated it, he knew that she was right.  Sasha knew it, too, his hands now balled into tight fists on the surface of the table.

        “Once you've retrieved the object, you will rendezvous with us outside of Mediterranea colony in EDEN-02.  We won't be hard to locate,” Saviour said after a lengthy pause.  “James, get the door.  Our business has concluded.”  Slowly, reluctantly, Yuri rose to his feet, collecting the folder and stepping away from the table.  Sasha followed, silent but no less furious about the situation.  As James unlocked the door and cracked it open, Yuri glanced back briefly at Saviour, and what he saw made him freeze momentarily.  It was only a brief glimpse, but he could swear he locked eyes with the woman.  From behind the shadows, he caught a glint of a steel blue eye peering at him.  It was beautiful and arresting.  But more than that...

        “You, hurry up,” James broke his concentration and ushered him out the door.  Sasha was already standing outside, and no sooner did Yuri join him than the door was shut tightly and locked.  For several moments, the two of them stood there in silence.  They were stunned, and angry at how quickly and efficiently the woman had recruited them, against their will at that, to enter a place they had hoped never to go near again.

        “Chesna is not going to be happy about this,” Sasha finally spoke up, his voice again low.

        “No, she won't,” Yuri replied, “but unless we magically stumble upon a suitcase full of money from here to port, we don't exactly have much of a choice.”  Sasha nodded slightly, knowing all of that perfectly well.

        “Come on,” Yuri said at length, starting to walk towards the port, “let's try and hurry back.”  Sasha complied, towing behind as they walked.  Along the way, Yuri pondered intently to himself.  He'd caught a glimpse of that 'Saviour' woman's eyes, and something about them struck him as incredibly familiar.  But from where exactly?  Where had he seen a gaze like that before?

-------- 

        Overlooking the vast and desolate expanse of the former colonial nation now known as the Graveyard, the Ranger rested just outside of the denser fields of debris.  Though still surrounded by the fragments of sunken ships, mobile suits, and the artifacts of former civilian life, the vessel stayed well away from where the larger husks of whole colonies and large buildings still drifted.  The crew had to make sure the space outside was clear enough for the mobile suit squadrons to launch safely.  And in fact, as the ship sat anchored, a pattern of bright lights could be seen exiting the hangar located on its bow.  There were four in total, belonging to the mobile suits in Bale's team.  Exiting in single file, the lights then grouped into a roughly V-shaped formation and crossed out over the debris field, taking a direct route over the denser ruins and heading for the opposite end of the Graveyard area.

        Inside the Ranger's hangar, four more mobile suits lined up in single file before a readied catapult.  The suit in front was a robust model, primarily copper in colour with a rich red ornamentation identifying it as a commander's unit.  Its huskier frame, the cannon attached to its right shoulder, and its more menacing face gave it away as Commander Iverson's personal Minotaur.  Directly behind it stood a pair of standard Gargoyles, and behind them was a new unit entirely.  Red with a gunmetal trim, it stood slightly taller than the Gargoyles, and sported wider legs packed with thrusters, as well as a larger backpack unit and broader shoulders.  It was one of the two new Griffin units the Ranger had received just before departure.  As maintenance crews ran final checks on the mobile suits, four individuals in black Allaster pilot suits drifted into the hangar, splitting up with each one heading for one of the units.

        Taking to the Griffin was Lieutenant Valentine, her sleek and feminine figure complimented nicely by the near form-fitting pilot suit.  After exchanging a few words with some remaining maintenance workers, she slipped inside the suit's cockpit hatch and closed it behind her, taking a seat in the slightly cramped quarters.  The suit's operating systems had already been booted up by the maintenance team, so all that was left for her to do was calibrate the settings to her liking.  As it was a new unit, it lacked the familiarity of her old Gargoyle.  Raising the visor on her helmet, she brushed away a few stray hairs in her face with one hand, while the other flicked lightly over the control panel in front of her.  Aiming calibration, control responsiveness, display layout, and even a few creature comforts like air conditioning, she knew her preferences exactly, and quickly entered them into the new machine.  Just as she finished, there was a crackle over the radio, and Commander Iverson's voice filled the cockpit.

        “All right, it's just as I told you during briefing,” his voice came in loud and clear.  A little too loud, as Valentine found herself quickly reaching for the volume control before lowering her visor.

        “While Lieutenant Caulfield's team takes the usual route, we take the opposite way around.  The checkpoints were already specified during briefing, just follow me and keep your eyes peeled.  Do you all copy?”  He was met with a trio of “yes sirs” from the other three pilots.

        “Lieutanant Valentine.”

        “Sir?” she looked up suddenly.

        “Show me I wasn't mistaken in giving you that Griffin,” he said, a friendly and non-serious tone to his voice.

        “Will do, sir,” Valentine replied.

        “And everyone, remember: if we encounter the Marzanna, I don't want to see any heroics.  We act as a team, and do what we can to minimize our casualties.  Is that understood?”  Once again, he was met with a trio of “yes sirs.”

        “Good.  Now, Iverson, heading out!”  Stepping onto the catapult, the Minotaur shot forward and out into space, launching from the ship with a flash of its main thrusters.  Once the catapult slid back into place, the next suit in line stepped forward.  As the units ahead of her took their turns, Valentine undid the collar of her flight suit, and unzipped the front just slightly.  Reaching into an inside pocket, she pulled out a small photograph.

        “Emmerich, heading out!” Chris announced his departure as his Gargoyle shot forward and out into space.  Zipping up her flight suit, Valentine paused for a brief second and looked at the photograph.  Her face was blank, yet somehow soft.  The photo held a sentimental air to it, but at the same time felt somehow distant to her.

        “Ahri Mujad, heading out!” Ahri called out, her Gargoyle launching.  It was now Valentine's turn.  Positioning her Griffin on the catapult, she slipped the edge of the photo into the border of her main viewscreen, and placed her hands on the suit's control grips.

        “Valentine, out!”  Bracing herself for the sudden increase in G-forces, she barely flinched as the suit launched out into space.  Once free of the ship, she activated its main thrusters and re-oriented herself with the suit's verniers.  She could already tell it was much quicker and more responsive than her old Gargoyle.  Moreso than she anticipated.  Once this tour was over, she'd have to take it out on some test runs to get a better feel for it.  For now, however, all she could do was adapt as best she could, and followed after the other three, taking the far end of a V-shaped formation.  As they passed down around the debris field, Valentine couldn't help but feel that despite the Commander's insistence on caution and safety during this mission, this was just going to be another routine patrol with nothing to worry about.

-------- 

        Chesna let out an agitated huff of a sigh as she tapped her finger erratically on her arm, both limbs folded tightly in front of her chest.  The Marzanna was anchored deep within the Graveyard's southern debris field.  She was surrounded on all sides by the place, and she absolutely abhorred it.  It felt suffocating, nerve racking, and was genuinely almost too much to bear.  How Yuri managed to talk her into it, she had no idea.  And she certainly wasn’t the only one feeling that way.  Throughout the entire ship, there was an overwhelming sense of apprehension in the crew.  The Graveyard was a forbidden place; they shouldn’t have been there, but yet they were.  It was like defiling some sacred shrine to be there, and they all despised that sick feeling, especially the mobile suit team, who were currently out in the thick of it.

        As Chesna watched, the Marzanna’s Gargoyle squadron made their way slowly through the thick remains towards a particularly large ruin that had once been part of a military installation.  It was a curious piece of debris, an entire section of concave ground with a few warehouses still attached to it.  And though a couple of those warehouses were definitely in tatters, at least one or two still remained more or less intact, outside of a few notable cuts and bruises on their surface.  They had likely been reinforced in order to withstand attack; there was really no way to explain how they’d survived something as violent as a space colony implosion otherwise.  It was in one of these warehouses that the Marzanna’s target rested.

        Ambling their way towards the warehouses were three of the Marzanna’s Gargoyles:  Yuri’s, with a large, antennae-laden backpack slung onto it, Johann’s, with Sasha sharing the cramped cockpit space as a passenger, and Adrik’s, wielding nothing more than a rifle.  A fourth unit, Nina’s, stayed behind to guard the Marzanna itself, making slow and steady circles around the hull.  Halfway to the destination, Yuri’s unit broke off from the other two, finding a nice hiding spot inside of the empty shell of a former battleship.  As Adrik and Johann continued on, he reached around to the backpack and pulled out a small, handheld receiver-like device, raising it above the suit’s head and passing it from side to side in slow, methodical arcs.

        “Yuri, anything coming up?” Chesna asked, her voice curt and uneasy.

        “Even with this equipment, it’s still hard to pick out anything, but I haven’t seen any obvious movement so far,” he replied, “Johann, how are you two coming along?”

        “We’ll be at the target in about forty-five seconds,” Johann answered.  Inside his suit’s cockpit, Johann sat at an unusually forward angle, with Sasha leaning over him from behind the seat.  The two of them were dressed in a pair of beat-up, grey pilot suits, with a pair of helmets resting off to the side.  Around Sasha’s head wrapped a small headset, with a microphone piece at his mouth.  Nearing the warehouses, Johann touched down gently on the ground around them, and carefully kicked off towards one of the more intact buildings in the group.  Adrik took to the ground in a different way, taking cover behind it and readying his gun in case anything went awry.

        Pulling up beside the warehouse, Johann braced the Gargoyle against the wall, stopping it just over a small doorway near the back.  With the suit in place, the two pilots inside reached for their helmets, slipping them on and putting the visors down.

        “Okay, you know what to do, right?” Yuri’s voice came over the radio.

        “Make my way in, locate the container, identify the cargo type, and if possible, find a way to extract it myself.  Right?” Sasha recited.

        “All inside of a ten minute window, yes,” Yuri answered.

        “Gotcha.  Johann, let me off.”

        “Good luck,” Johann said, flipping the control that opened the Gargoyle’s cockpit hatch.  With a loud hiss of escaping air, the hatch swung open, and crawling around the pilot’s seat, Sasha drifted outside and down towards the door.  As yet another indicator of the warehouse’s apparent reinforcement, the door was much thicker and sturdier than anticipated, with a numerical lock that at one time kept it sealed tight.  There was no power to the lock, obviously, so simply overriding it wasn’t much of an option.  Thinking fast, Sasha reached up and grabbed a large, metal bar that had been floating around near the warehouse and wedged it into a groove at one end of the door.  Placing his feet on the doorframe at the opposite end to gain leverage, Sasha began to pull on the other end of the bar, trying to pry the door open.  Straining to force it open, Sasha found himself surprised by how resistant the door was to budging.  Either there was still air on the other end, or the lock was somehow still holding, despite having no power running to it.  A sudden pop and a rush of wind as the door finally swung open confirmed the former, and nearly blew him away from the warehouse.  Grabbing onto the doorframe, Sasha pulled himself inside, shutting the door behind him.

        Pulling a flashlight from a pouch on the flight suit’s pant legs and flipping it on, Sasha took note that the room he had stepped into appeared to be some kind of control room, with broken computer equipment lining the wall opposite the door, and a set of large lockers to his immediate right.  Computer parts, chairs, and even maintenance equipment and ammunition from an open gun locker floated freely in the zero gravity.  Scanning the room, Sasha also noticed something else floating around in the far corner.  A body, dressed in a maintenance techs jumpsuit.  Quickly lowering his eyes and looking away from the unfortunate corpse, Sasha turned his attention to the left side of the room.  There he saw a door, less elaborate than the one leading outside, which he presumed opened out into the main warehouse area of the building.  Reaching for the doorknob, Sasha turned it and attempted to push the door open.  Again, he was met with resistance, despite the door not being locked.  Placing his feet on the side of a nearby computer console, Sasha kicked off and rammed the door with his shoulder.  The impact jarred it open, and again a rush of air nearly knocked him backwards.  Pulling himself through the door, he quickly shut it behind him, sealing off the air leak.  Tentatively, Sasha decided to try something, and slowly removed his helmet, a few stray beads of sweat that had already formed jarring loose from his face and hair as he did so.  He didn’t die.

“Huh.  Odd.  There’s still breathable air in here,” Sasha mused.  Though it stank of death and stagnation, the warehouse still carried enough air inside of it for him to breathe.  And it was cooler than the flight suit, at that.  Raising the flashlight again, Sasha made a quick survey of the huge room he was now in.  Apparently, the surface appearance of a nearly intact warehouse was just that—superficial.  The inside was a mess, with support beams from the ceiling strewn about diagonally from ground to roof, and the twisted remains of walkways, staircases, freight elevators, and even small trucks scattered all around.  Sasha also took note of a couple more bodies, battered and bloodied from flying debris.  And tangled up in the center of it all were five massive transport containers, the two of which nearest him being quite obviously destroyed by the collapsed building structure.  He grimaced.  These things were huge, and the cargo inside couldn’t have been much smaller.

“Yuri,” Sasha called through the headset, “I’m definitely going to need help with this thing.  It looks to be too big for me to move on my own.”

        “You’re probably going to have to find a way, kiddo,” Yuri answered before turning his attention to the other Gargoyles and Chesna, “I’m reading four mobile suits inbound.  They appear to be a pair of Gargoyles, a Minotaur, and one unidentified.”

        “<Shit,>” Chesna cursed under her breath, “How long until they arrive?”

        “At the speed they’re traveling, about four to five minutes.”

        Chesna let out a growling sigh, “Just our luck.  Sasha, you and Johann have three minutes maximum to get that thing out of there.  Understood?”

        “No promises,” Sasha said reluctantly.  Floating forward, he quickly began to scan the sides of the containers, looking for the serial number Saviour had specified.

        “CC2340, CC2256, CC…there, 2345,” floating to the farthest container, Sasha immediately took note of the fact that one of its doors was sitting slightly ajar.  Pulling it open, he was met with a sight he wasn’t expecting, though in retrospect felt he probably should have from the size of the containers.  It was a foot.  A massive foot, with a red sole giving way to a white upper half, and further up into a white leg.  Pulling the second door open, Sasha saw the second foot, and above it, the barrel of a rifle of sorts, which had unfortunately gotten damaged somehow and now sat in two pieces above the leg.  Slipping inside the container, Sasha followed the legs with his flashlight, and caught sight of its torso, black with blue trim, with a pair of white and blue arms resting at its sides.  Above the shoulders, a pair of odd stalks jutted out, and between them was the head, with two blank eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, and a curiously elaborate V-shaped crest sitting atop its brow.

        “You’re not going to believe this,” Sasha radioed to the others.

        “What is it?” Yuri replied.

        “The cargo we were supposed to pick up.  It’s a mobile suit.”

        Yuri paused, “You’re kidding, right?  We came all this way out here for a damn mobile suit?”

        “Well, it’s not quite like anything I’ve seen before.  It looks kind of like a Sabre, but much bulkier, and the head is fancier.”

        “Hm,” Yuri seemed to muse to himself.

        “Does it look operable?” Chesna butted in.

        “It...doesn’t look too damaged.  There’s a rifle floating above it that’s been snapped in two, and what looks like part of a shield, but the suit itself looks alright.”

        “Leave the accessories and see if you can activate the suit.  Yuri, how much time to we have?”

        “We have about two to three minutes before they arrive.  They’ll know we’re here any second now.”

        “Goddammit.  Sasha, hurry up!” Chesna barked, her signal cutting out.  Fumbling in the dark for the opening mechanism, Sasha pulled on a switch near the chest exhaust vents, the cockpit hatch coming open with a dull hydraulic hiss.  A good sign; at least that much worked.  Slipping inside, Sasha crawled into the seat at the center of the cockpit and closed the hatch behind him, a small automatic light coming on as he reached around for the controls.  Flipping a few switches, Sasha felt a shuddering resonate through the entire body of the suit, followed by the low, electronic moan of its computer systems humming to life.  Outside, the blank eyes flashed to life, two bright yellow lights illuminating the back of the container.  Things were looking up.  If Sasha could get the suit to power on, it might just be working fine enough to pilot out of there.  In front of him, a small monitor on the console sparked to life, displaying numerous status screens.  A long stream of green and red text began to fill the monitor, as the suit’s computer ran a long list of diagnostics on itself.  Sasha read them off quietly, wincing with each vital system that came up damaged.

        “AMBAC, damaged.  Arm controls, damaged, leg controls, mostly operable, verniers, half operable, rear and left sensors, damaged, front sensors, operable, right sensors, partially operable, head vulcansm operable, forearm weapons, operable, beam—beam sabers?” Sasha blurted out suddenly.  They were damaged, with the power supply to them not connecting, but all the same, he could hardly believe what he was reading.  There was more to this suit than he initially suspected.  As he continued to read the monitor in front of him, its long and detailed diagnostic cut out, and a handful of new boot-up screens flashed across it.  Among them, something else caught Sasha’s eye.

        “Project Midgard Unit.  Gundam Type Number 12.  Baldur?”

        “Sasha, how are things going in there?” Yuri’s voice came in suddenly over the headset.

        “It seems I can move it, but it won’t be easy.  Johann,”

        “Yeah?” Johann answered.

        “Come around to the front doors.  See if you can blow them open so that I can get this thing out of here,” Sasha instructed, placing his hands on the control grips in front of him.

        “Will do.  But we—<fuck!>” Johann shouted, surprised by something.

        “Johann!  What’s going on out there?”

        “They’re on us!  Get that suit ready so I can blow the door.  Quickly!”  Over the headset, Sasha could hear the low thrumming of gunfire as Johann shouted.

        Outside, Johann and Adrik were hurriedly returning rounds of gunfire with a pair of Allaster Gargoyles.  Hanging back, a Minotaur with elaborate red trim was readying its small cannon, pulling it into position with its right arm, while a nearby Griffin was prepping its own rifle.

        “I repeat, we have located the Marzanna,” Iverson’s voice echoed over his radio, “Will be needing reinforcements.  Caulfield, where are you?”

        “About fifteen minutes away, sir,” a heavily static-laden voice responded.

        “Be here in ten!” Iverson cut him off and turned his attention to the Griffin, “Valentine, pin down that suit guarding the ship; I’m going to see if I can get a few good shots into its hull.”

        “What about Chris and Ahri?” Valentine asked hurriedly.

        “They’ll manage long enough.  But we can’t let that ship get away.  Now follow me!”  Iverson barked as his Minotaur took off suddenly in the direction of the Marzanna.  Valentine followed behind just as quickly, rifle raised and ready.  As they passed over the emptied hull of a former battleship, the two found themselves nearly blindsided by a volley of assault rifle fire from within it.  Turning quickly, Iverson caught sight of Yuri’s Gargoyle emerging from the wreckage, rifle in hand, and in that same moment was nearly winged from behind by a massive flash of cannon fire from one of the Marzanna’s beam turrets.

        “D'oh Jesus!” Iverson shouted, his suit spinning full circle as he faced enemies from both sides.  Valentine was quick to respond, firing a quick round at Yuri.

        “Sir, I’ve got this one, get to the ship!” Valentine called to her superior.  Acknowledging her sudden command, Iverson broke away from the ensuing dogfight and again made for the ship.  At the same time, Adrik found himself playing a bizarre game of hide and seek with Ahri, exchanging quick bursts of gunfire from behind whatever cover he could find, and she doing the same.  While trying to keep his enemy pinned down, he attempted to duck back towards the warehouses, where Johann was similarly exchanging shots with Chris.

        “I can’t say I’m impressed, pirate!” Chris shouted as he sunk two rounds into Johann’s suit’s leg.  Stumbling a bit, Johann quickly jumped behind one of the destroyed warehouses, leaping out from the other side and strafing Chris before discarding the empty rifle clip.

        “Sasha, I’m pinned down, I can’t get near the door!” Johann shouted to Sasha.

        “Well where’s Adrik?  Can’t he cover you?” Sasha inquired, all the while carefully backing the Gundam out of its container.

        “That’s what I’m trying to do, ass!” Adrik spat, “But the problem is we’re kind of evenly matched.  These guys are just a bit more professional than our usual enemies.”

        “From an ace like you, that’s a pretty pathetic thing to say,” Sasha retorted before being jarred in his seat by a sudden collision with the side of the container.

        “Shut the fu—<Christ!>” Adrik was suddenly cut off by gunfire, leaving Sasha abruptly to his own tasks.  While Sasha struggled with the gimp Gundam, his sister barked orders to the bridge crew, ordering them to fire on the Minotaur and offer support for Nina, who was presently engaging the larger and more durable suit.

        “Hold the cannon fire, keep on him with the machineguns.  Nina, where are you?”

        “I’m managing well enough, but this fucker’s shoulder cannon is pissing me off!” Nina growled, with some added, decidedly cruder slurs intended for the Minotaur coming over the radio as she dodged a pair of highly explosive rounds.

        Chesna similarly growled impatiently and shouted into the radio, “Yuri!  Sasha!  What the hell is taking so long?”

        “I haven’t heard from Sasha yet,” Yuri answered, “but this new unit has me pinned.”  As Yuri spoke, he let off a few more shots at Valentine’s Griffin before ducking down behind a large piece of what used to be a street.  Though he was known as the most capable of the Marzanna’s mobile suit pilots, the massive backpack attached to his suit weighed him down and disabled some of his main thrusters, rendering him much less mobile, and putting him solidly on the defensive against the much more nimble unit belonging to Valentine.

        “Hrn,” Valentine huffed.  She had her opponent on the run, to be sure.  But he was tough to pin down, and she had to hurry; she knew Iverson was overmatched against both the ship itself and the unit guarding it.  He was going well beyond his abilities to try and keep the Marzanna here.  No heroics, indeed.  And on top of that, the Gargoyle she was pursuing was ducking deeper into a very dense area of debris.  Ranged combat was no good anymore.  That was when a thought occurred to her.  Did this suit even have any melee weaponry on it when she launched?

        “Dammit,” quickly she began to flick through the suit’s on-board maintenance screens, looking for its arsenal loadout.  Taking cover behind a large husk of metal to buy her time, she browsed the list of weapons the suit was equipped with at the time of launch.  No heat knife, no axe, no—waitaminute.  Did...did that...

        “Did that just say ‘beam saber?’” she voiced her thoughts allowed, caught off-guard by the words she was reading.  Certainly she had heard of the weapon; the Empire had recently begun issuing it to new test suits being supplied to Sentinel.  So what was a backwater recruit like her doing with such a thing?  Maybe it was an error in shipping?  No time to ponder it now, though, and flicking a few more buttons, she managed to find where the sabers were located, popping open a small port on the left hip of her suit.  Drawing out the hilt, she fumbled a switch located on it with the Griffin’s thumb, and in a flash produced a long, narrow stream of yellow-green energy.  She narrowed her eyes as she looked at the blade, and rid herself of any doubts.  Accidental or not, this was a perfect opportunity.

        Turning, she scanned the debris behind her for the Gargoyle with the backpack.  For being weighed down like he was, he was surprisingly capable of taking quick cover.  Suddenly, something caught her eye, as a small object flew out from behind a battered building.  Reflexively, she dove for it, and noticed almost too late the Gargoyle emerging from the opposite side and pouncing her.  He had thrown the small handheld receiver he'd been using, and now dove at Valentine with his heat knife.  She lucked out, however, as in turning, she swung the beam saber and managed to slice clean through Yuri’s knife, forcing him to scramble backwards as quickly as possible.

        “<Fuck!>” Yuri swore as he reached for his rifle.  A beam saber.  A goddamn beam saber, he hadn’t counted on that!  And the fucking suit was too slow; by the time he’d grabbed his rifle, she was already lining up for a stabbing run at his torso.  Of all the ways to go out, this was just pathetic!

        “Nyagh!” Valentine was interrupted by a plaintive howl from her radio.  Turning away from Yuri, she caught sight of Iverson’s Minotaur falling backwards, smoke streaming from the suit’s left side.  Iverson had been too caught up in dogging Nina, and again hadn’t noticed the Marzanna’s cannons until one of them nearly killed him.

        “Commander!” Valentine shouted, frantically orienting her suit to head towards him.  The newness of the suit slowed her down though, as she overcompensated and spun around a little too much.  Taking the opportunity, Yuri rushed her Griffin, ramming it into a nearby slab of street and kicking off, raising his rifle and firing a wide strafe at her, then turning and emptying his clip in Iverson’s direction.  It was by sheer luck that Iverson righted himself and dodged the salvo in time, and took to an evasive course as Yuri gave chase.  Inside her cockpit, Valentine winced.  She wasn’t hurt, merely stunned.  The Griffin took a handful of rounds, but they were all in superficial armor placements.  Shaking herself off, she pulled the suit from the floating slab and sped off after Yuri.  It became a chaotic game of tag through the debris; Yuri chased Iverson, Valentine chased Yuri, and now Nina gave chase after Valentine, all under a light barrage of machinegun fire from the Marzanna.

        While those four gave chase, Johann and Adrik had reached a stalemate with Ahri and Chris.  All four were low on ammunition, and had taken careful cover in and around the warehouses.

        “Johann, where are you?” Sasha asked over the radio.

        “I’m one building down, what’s your status?”

        “The suit’s ready.  But it’s too crippled to take the door.  Can you move?”

        “Not exactly,” Johann said, looking around cautiously.  “Adrik, what about you?”

        “I can see the two fuckers from where I’m hidden,” Adrik smirked, “And I have a plan, to boot.”

        “What is it?” Johann and Sasha simultaneously inquired.

        “I’ll draw them both out and get them to chase me.  At the same time, Johann, you blow the door and get Sasha’s crippled ass to the Marzanna.”

        “How will you do that?” Sasha asked.

        “Simple.  Grenade,” Adrik said, the Gargoyle producing a large, stick-handled explosive from its right thigh armor.  “I’ve been waiting to try one of these babies out.  Now get ready.”  Immediately all three of them became resolutely focused.  Johann readied his suit to kick off towards the door, while Adrik pulled back with the grenade.

        “Now!”  Leaping out from behind his cover, Adrik hurled the explosive towards where the two enemy units were hiding.  They scattered as it detonated, reconvening and giving chase as Adrik shot off in the opposite direction into the thick of the debris field.

        “Johann!  Sasha!  Do it!”  As if voice activated, Johann sprang into action, pulling out a grenade of his own and lobbing it at the door.

        “Sasha!  Get back!” Johann shouted.  Sasha complied, ducking behind the container as the explosive went off, blasting a reasonable hole through the doors.  Wind rushed out suddenly and Sasha kicked off from within the building, spinning somewhat aimlessly without proper vernier output before being caught by Johann.

        “You okay?” Johann asked, righting Sasha.

        “I'm fine, I think I can manage.  Adrik, where are you?”

        “Trying to give them the slip,” Adrik remarked, “I think I've managed to bog them down enough in the field.  Turns out they were pups after all.”  Pausing to right his suit, he turned and watched as Chris and Ahri struggled through the extra-dense debris.  A field that Adrik had managed to maneuver through with little trouble.

        “I'm coming back around.  If you can get Sasha on board in time, the two of us and Nina should have enough fire power to take them on when they manage to get out of that.” Adrik said after a moment's pause.  “Hell, at their pace, Sasha might even have enough time to hop into his Gargoyle and have a go,” he added with a laugh.

        “Gotcha,” Johann replied.  “C'mon Sasha.”  Wrapping one of the Gundam's half-limp arms around the Gargoyle's shoulders, Johann hefted the suit slowly yet steadily towards the Marzanna, Sasha helping out as best he could with the Gundam's own engines.

        “Shit.  Sasha, what's your status?” Chesna cursed suddenly over the radio.

        “We're almost to the ship; have Boris ready the net.  Why, what's the problem?”

        “We've got company.  These four have reinforcements coming in from the north and east; they'll be arriving in just under five minutes.”  Inside the bridge, Chesna was leaned over a bridge crewman's chair, intently watching as four fast-moving blips on the ship's radar drew near at an alarming speed.

        “Hurry and begin pulling the ship out of here then.  We can board the hangar on the run if need be,” Sasha replied before turning his radio to the others.  “Yuri, Nina, where are you?  The cargo's been collected and we need to—”

        As if answering his message, four suits leapt out of the surrounding wreckage.  First came Yuri's Gargoyle, with Iverson's Minotaur hot on his heels.  The two suits nearly plowed into Sasha as they shot past.  Next came Nina and Valentine, locked in a tense grapple with Nina trying to hold off Valentine's beam saber and stab the torso with her heat knife, and Valentine attempting to grab hold of Nina's knife-wielding hand with her free arm while bringing the beam saber down on top of her Gargoyle with the other.  Barely looking where they were going, the two slammed into a hollowed out ship's hull, jarring them free of each other's grasp.  Jerking her suit back, Valentine freed herself from the wreckage, and raised her beam saber for another charge.

        “Fucking bastard!” Nina spat at the Griffin, trying to free herself from the tangle of metal, or at the very least mount some sort of defense against the saber.

        “Nina, heads up!” a voice called from up above.  Just as Valentine charged, a heat knife whizzed in between the embattled suits, very nearly taking off the Griffin's saber-wielding hand.  Pulling back and looking up, she barely had time to react before catching the foot of Adrik's Gargoyle directly in the Griffin's face, sending the suit careening backwards.

        “Nina, take my hand, we're getting out of here!” Adrik shouted, turning to her and extending his suit's hand to her.  Reluctantly, Nina stowed her wounded pride for the time being and accepted his offer.

        “I coulda taken the little shit,” Nina pouted upon being extracted from the old husk.

        “Su~ure you could,” Adrik teased.  The scary thing is, she probably somehow could have, but all the same Adrik enjoyed toying with her odd masculine sense of pride like this.  “Now come on, we've gotta bail before their reinforcements show up.”

        “They've already got reinforcements on the way?” Nina asked.

        “That's what I'm hearing.  And Sasha's got that thing we came after, so we have no reason to stick around and greet them.  Now get your big man-ass in gear,” Adrik remarked with a smirk as he took off for the Marzanna.

        “I'm fucking killing you for that one,” Nina shot back as she gave chase after him.  Back at the Marzanna, Johann was helping to haul the Gundam into the hangar.  The legs were sturdy enough for it to stand, it turned out, but it still needed its arms to balance.  Sasha only barely managed to get them to move just enough to brace the Gundam against the upper edge of the hangar's entrance as it eased inside.

        “Almost there, Sasha,” Johann said, his Gargoyle helping to brace the Gundam and keep it from falling backward while the Marzanna slowly turned to one side and backed itself out of the debris field.

        “Johann, I can manage alright, go help out Yuri!” Sasha insisted.  From the way the two had passed by a moment ago, Sasha could tell something wasn't right.  That backpack was weighing him down too much.

        “Sasha, I can't let go, you'll—”

        “I don't care about that, go and help—!  <Shit,>” Sasha swore to himself and groped for the radio, “Yuri!  Where are you?  Respond!”  Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Sasha saw Yuri's Gargoyle plow into several pieces of debris, the shattered backpack now tangling up the right arm and hindering its movement.  Rearing up over it, Iverson grabbed for his suit's shoulder cannon and pulled into position, aiming down into the field Yuri just crashed into.

        “I have you now, pirate,” Iverson gloated as he drew a bead on the suit.

        “Yuri!!” Sasha shrieked.  In that instant, a massive reflex took over his body, and twisting the Gundam around to face the two mobile suits, he kicked off from the Marzanna's hangar and broke free of Johann's grasp.

        “Sasha, wait!” Johann called.  It was too late though, as the Gundam's engines ignited as fully as they could, and the suit made a half-turning dive towards the Minotaur.  Noticing Sasha coming towards him, Iverson turned to face the young man, raising his cannon to fire.

        “Sasha, damn you!” Chesna shouted from her vantage point on the bridge, “cover him with the turrets, the damn fool's gonna get himself killed!”

        “Weapons, weapons,” Sasha muttered frantically, “<something work, damn it!>”  Seeing the word 'gun' flash on the console only briefly, Sasha reached for a switch and flipped it.  As the Gundam spiraled downward, its limp right arm flung out suddenly, a panel over the forearm slapping open and a three barreled gatling gun sliding out harshly from its hidden compartment.  Almost instantly, the gun flared to life, causing the arm to spasm as it emptied a nearly uncontrollable volley of rounds directly into Iverson's Minotaur.

        “Commander!!” another voice shouted, as Valentine desperately dove towards her doomed superior.  She watched in horror as the Minotaur's torso became raked with gunfire, contorting to one side and involuntarily firing its cannon out into nothingness before exploding.  Looking over, she saw the Gundam slow its descent, the rotating barrels on the forearm continuing to rotate while clicking empty.  Watching the suit, Valentine's face contorted.  Shock and horror gave way to a seething hatred of this new suit.  Her eyes flared with rage.  She didn't notice Adrik fly around behind her and retrieve Yuri, she didn't notice Chris and Ahri pull up beside her.  Didn't even notice them speaking.  This was supposed to be a routine patrol.  Everyone was supposed to return safely from another mundane mission.  But then this bastard came along.  It wasn't supposed to happen like this, least of all to a kind old man like Iverson.  She was gonna fucking kill this guy!

        “Lieutenant!” her teammates shouted, as her suit angled itself and shot forward after the Gundam.  Sasha floated helplessly as Valentine drew her suit's beam saber again, intending to run the Gundam straight through.  This bastard scored a cheap shot against a fine and honorable commanding officer, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it.  She didn't give a moment's thought, however, to the fact that in making the charge she left herself wide open to attack.  Hadn't realized it until her viewscreen was consumed by a bright, green light.

        Before she realized it, Valentine's suit was hit almost directly by a shot from the Marzanna's secondary beam turrets.  Striking the suit in the torso just below the left shoulder, the shot hit with such force that the Griffin's forward momentum was canceled out completely, and the suit was sent flying backwards.  Valentine could barely comprehend what had happened.  All she could see was the cockpit spinning and coming apart.  Shrapnel flew everywhere, sparks flickered all around, and then she saw the sight of blood as everything continued spinning.  Shrapnel and blood.  And more blood.  And then she blacked out.

        The Griffin came to a stop in the arms of Nina's Gargoyle.  As Valentine's teammates attempted to retrieve her, they were chased off by a second round of cannon fire from the Marzanna.  Adrik had already gotten Yuri safely aboard the Marzanna, and Johann was in the process of re-retrieving Sasha and the Gundam.

        “What the hell should I do with this?” Nina asked, having been ordered to grab it by Chesna.

        “Bring it aboard.  We can repair it and use it ourselves,” Chesna commanded.  “And hurry; their reinforcements are right on top of you!”  Just as she spoke, a quartet of mobile suits—Bale's Griffin followed by a trio of Gargoyles—burst through the debris field and descended on the Marzanna.  Doing a quick scan of the area, Bale caught sight of Nina's Gargoyle hefting a damaged mobile suit back towards the ship.  Looking closer, he realized it wasn't just anyone's suit, either.  It was Lieutenant Valentine's.

        “You bastard,” he growled, “let go of her this instant!” Bale howled and dove recklessly for Nina.  He closed the distance quickly and leveled his rifle on her suit.

        “Lieutenant, look out!” instantly Bale pulled up at the urgent call of his wingman, only barely avoiding being obliterated by the Marzanna's turrets.

        “Open fire with everything on that side!  Don't let them get close!” Chesna shouted, throwing her hand out in the direction of Bale's squadron.  “Once Nina's aboard we're hauling ass out of here!”  With just about every turret and machinegun placement on the ship wide open and firing in the direction of the six remaining enemy mobile suits, the Marzanna was doing more than its part to pin them down and allow itself time to escape.

        “Lieutenant Caulfield,” one of Bale's wingmen spoke up, “we can't take it on now, we have to go back to the Ranger and pursue them from there.”

        “But they have—!”

        “Bale, we can't take that on and you know it!” Ahri shouted, frustration welling up in her voice.  “I don't like it any more than you do, but getting yourself killed isn't going to save her!”  Bale went silent, watching as the Marzanna pulled farther and farther away, and the cannon fire flying over their heads decreased in frequency.

        “Damn it!” he finally shouted, striking the forward monitor with his fist.  “Return to the Ranger, we're resupplying and chasing that bastard down!”  Turning promptly, Bale shot off in the opposite direction of the Marzanna, his wingmen and the survivors from Iverson's team trailing behind.

-------- 

        Boris was practically in fits with the commotion that overtook the hangar.  Between seeing to the regular Gargoyle maintenance, tending to the damage sustained by Yuri and Johann's units, and having to find some place to store two new mobile suits, the maintenance team was virtually overwhelmed.  The mobile suit team had already disembarked, and some of them were helping where they could.  In the middle of it all stood Yuri and Sasha, Yuri tending to a gash on his own forehead.

        “That was—ah!” he winced, wrapping a cloth around his head to stop the bleeding, “that was extremely reckless of you.  Had Chesna not intervened, you'd have gotten yourself killed,” Yuri said sternly.

        “I know, sir,” Sasha looked off to one side slightly.  There were only two people in the world who could scold Sasha and make him feel bad about it.  Yuri was one of them.  The other was now striding up behind them.

        “Now, now, Yuri,” Chesna said, a calmer air in her voice than there was only moments ago, “from where I stood there seemed to be a lot of that going on.  You weren't immune.  Besides,” she grinned slightly, “Sasha's recklessness did save your ass out there.”

        “Hey, you didn't let me finish,” Yuri said, tying his makeshift bandage tight around his head.  Smiling, he placed his hand on Sasha's shoulder, “You did good out here though, all things considered.”  Sasha smiled a bit, shaking his head.  Before he could properly respond though, the three of them were interrupted by a crewman.

        “Captain!” the man hurried up to them, a slightly ghastly look on his face.

        “What is it?” Chesna asked, vaguely concerned with his apparent urgency.

        “Well,” the crewman turned and indicated to two other men.  In between then was a bloody mess clad in a black uniform, limp, with blood-matted auburn hair covering its face.  “The...pilot of that other mobile suit.  She's still alive, it seems.”

        “Oh?” Chesna strode over and took a look at the body being suspended by the two men. She grimaced. The girl was a mess, deathly pale with cuts all across her face, and a particularly large wound in her chest, just near her heart that was still bleeding. As Chesna watched, the girl shuddered involuntarily from chills.

        “She won't last,” Chesna said grimly. “And it's not like we take prisoners anyway.” With Chesna's judgment passed, the crewmen holding the girl up dumped her on the floor and went off to commit to more pressing matters.

        “So, what do we do with her?” Sasha asked warily. As if answering him, his sister pulled out a large, almost ceremonial looking pistol and pulled back the slide.

        “Simple. Put her out of her misery.”

        “But—” Sasha began to protest, but soon relented. He knew the Marzanna's policy about prisoners, and knew why it had to be done. The supplies and living quarters aboard the ship were capable of supporting the crew and the crew alone. There was simply no room for anyone extra. Still, it wasn't something he enjoyed seeing. Especially with his sister holding the gun.

        “Sasha, I'm sorry, but it's just something that has to be done,” Chesna said gravely. Not once did she turn back to face him. He could tell she didn't like him being around to see this.

        “Yuri, go see Miki about that wound,” Chesna said sternly, “and take Sasha with you in case you start to feel dizzy.” Both Sasha and Yuri could tell she was just making excuses to get Sasha out of the room. For one thing, Yuri's forehead wasn't bleeding that badly. Not even close. Still, Yuri decided it would be best that they simply play along for now, and placed his hand on Sasha's shoulder as a sign to follow him to the medic's office. Reluctantly, Sasha complied, and turned away to head out of the hangar. He barely took two steps before glancing back over his shoulder. When he did, what Sasha saw made him freeze solid.

        Standing over the girl was Chesna, pistol raised to her forehead. This was to be expected. But what shocked Sasha was the girl herself. He had thought she would still be unconscious. Hopefully even bled out by then. But right in front of him, she sat, crumpled on the ground, barely holding herself up by her arms, her eyes staring vacantly up at her surroundings. Without thinking, Sasha broke away from Yuri and quickly made his way back over to her, placing his hand on Chesna's gun and lowering it.

        “Sasha, what are you—?” Chesna was cut off by a ghastly look from Sasha. A look of shock that didn't quite know yet what it had to be shocked about. With a frustrated huff, Chesna stepped back, and let Sasha entertain his curiosity for now.

        All around her, the world was spinning. Valentine could barely comprehend where she was, nor could she hear a word anyone was saying. As her head rolled back limply and cast her eyes upward, all she could do was focus on the figures standing directly in front of her. Valentine could barely make out any details, none but one person's face. What she saw was a youthful face. A young boy's, with wispy forest green hair hanging in front of it. Where had she seen that face before? She shuddered again from how cold her body had gotten, her head dropping downward weakly. She could feel her breathing becoming more erratic. Slowly, she raised her head again, and looked at the young boy's face. Yes. That's it. She remembered now. Remembered who he was. Meekly, with all the strength she could muster, she smiled, and called to him.

        “Sa...Sasha...”

        With that, she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Sasha's eyes went wide, their usual glazed appearance receding and giving way to deep, crystal clear grey pools. She knew his name. She knew him. But how? Who was she? As he stared at her, he noticed something crumpled in her hand. Stooping down, he carefully extracted it from her frail grip and unraveled it. It was soaked in her blood, but he could tell it was a photograph of some sort. Looking at it, a gasp caught sharply in his throat and he staggered backwards. What he could see shook him to the core. In the photograph was a green field. A hazy, overcast sky overhead, and a large house in the background. And in the center were two children. The boy was masked by her blood, but the girl, the tiny redheaded girl with the bright, adorable smile, could be seen clear as day. This tattered and stained picture was the exact same one he kept on his nightstand. As he looked down at her body again, he realized that could only mean one thing. He now knew what had compelled him to her.

        “Gabriella...” the name shuddered out of Sasha's mouth with a ragged breath, just audible enough for some around him to hear. Including Chesna, whose eyes shot wide the second she heard it.

        “What did you just—!?” she blurted out, taken aback by what he'd just said. Sasha glanced back, only enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. His face showed shock. Complete and utter paralyzing shock shining through eerily vivid eyes. And as he looked back at the girl, terror at the horrible state she was in.

        “G—Gabriella!!”

        As Gabriella slipped out of consciousness completely, all she could hear was Sasha calling to her, and another woman's voice ordering for a medic.