MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM RAGNAROK 

Chapter 2 – Fighting Retreat 

        The steady beep of the EKG echoed through the Marzanna's small, cramped infirmary, the sound bouncing off the room's dull and dirtied walls before coming to rest at Sasha's ears.  He sat in the center of the room, his chair pulled up next to one of the two small beds at the far end, the only light to be had coming from a small lamp above the bed itself and a larger light emanating from the doctor's desk behind him.  He was crouched over, with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands, staring intently with glassy eyes at the woman lying unconscious before him.  Underneath a thin white sheet she was completely nude, with several IVs inserted into her left arm and numerous bandages—most notably one that wrapped all the way around her chest with a deep red stain on the left shoulder—decorating her body from head to toe.  But more than that, what Sasha's eyes were fixed on most was her face.  It had been cleaned up since last he'd seen it, and for the first time he was able to get a truly good look at her.  At her slim features, her just-slightly-pointed chin, her narrow velvety lips, her vaguely almond-shaped eyes, her near-ruby red hair that now flowed freely down both sides of her head.  No mistaking it.  None at all.  She was definitely Gabriella Valentine.

        But just how was that even possible?  Sasha couldn't piece it together, no matter how much he thought about it.  Was this just a dream?  If he looked away, even blinked, would she disappear again?  Just that idea alone kept his gaze riveted to her face  As much as he couldn't believe what was happening, he didn't want it to stop.  Through some bizarre twist of fate, Gabriella was alive again, and that was good enough for now.  With his mind settling again from another in a long series of rapid fire speculations, the slow repetition of the EKG wafted back into his ears, as well as the footsteps of someone else entering the tight quarters of the infirmary.

        “Doctor Takagi, how...how is she?” Sasha said slowly.  Behind him, a mousy-looking Asian woman in thin-rimmed glasses and a faded lab coat—worn purely out of habit despite the ship's lack of formal dress code—glanced up at him as she put away some folders in a cabinet above her desk.

        “Lucky,” she responded.  Stepping over behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder.  “If you'd brought her to me even a minute later, she'd have bled out completely.  That wound near her shoulder was barely a couple inches from her heart, you realize.”  Sasha winced.  He knew full well how close he'd come to reuniting with Gabriella again, only to have her die for good right in front of him.

        “She'll live, don't worry,” Takagi continued, adding, “or at least she'd better.  And you guys had better not get hurt for a while.  Just about used up all of our medical supplies on saving this girl alone.”

        “When do you think she'll wake up?” Sasha asked.

        “Hard to say,” Takagi said, walking back to her desk and picking up a small cup of coffee.  “Could be today, could be this time next week.  Don't worry, I'll let you know when she does,” she finished with a slight smirk.

        “Thanks,” Sasha said quietly.  Finally tearing his eyes away from Gabriella, he rose to his feet slowly and walked around her bed.  On a chair on the other side sat her torn and bloodied clothes, as well as anything else that was on her while she was piloting the Griffin.  All of it was heaped messily together, as there hadn't been enough time when operating on her to sort through it all and set it aside in any sort of neat manner.  All of the blood Gabriella had bled was now dried on her clothes, and there was such a large amount of it left behind that her pilot suit crackled as Sasha sifted through it, small sepia flakes falling onto the floor.  After only a brief moment of searching, he found what he was looking for, and stepped away from the pile.  It was the photograph she had been holding when she was brought aboard.  The one of the two of them as children.  It was now well wrinkled and torn, but enough of the dried blood had flaked off that both of their faces could now be made out, albeit barely.  He stared at it, wordlessly.  It really was her.  And again, another round of questions racked his brain.  What had she been doing all this time?  Where had she been?

        Sasha was so lost in his own little world that he failed to notice three faces peeking at him from around the doorway that led into the infirmary.  Takagi had already taken a seat at her desk and begun to pore over paperwork relating to Gabriella's condition, and couldn't be bothered to shoo them away, though she certainly knew that they were there.

        “So what do you think?” Adrik whispered.

        “I don't know,” Nina replied in an equally hushed voice, “an old girlfriend from some port?”

        “Wow, if so I'm impressed.  <Sasha you dog!>” Adrik smirked in an odd mixture of perversion and pride.  Nina elbowed him in the ribs sharply in response, causing him to stifle a yelp.

        “Johann, you hang out with Sasha more than we do, who is she?” Nina turned her attention to the third in the spying trio.

        “I don't know, I've never heard him mention a 'Gabriella' before!” Johann replied.

        “<Christ, you're useless>,” Nina cursed at him and turned back to watching, the others joining her in their resumed vigil.

        “<Y'know, after a while this gets to be about as exciting as watching paint dr->-AH!” Adrik yelped again as Nina planted another elbow into the exact same spot in his ribcage.

        “You guys, he'll hear us!” Johann complained.  The three bickering would-be spies failed to notice through their infighting that another figure was striding up behind them.

        “Don't you three have somewhere to be?” Chesna's voice sounded over them, a suspecting and slightly annoyed air to it.  Almost immediately, the trio shied back and made their way carefully around her before slinking away down the hall.  Though they respected her as both a capable and wholly likable commander, everyone aboard feared her wrathful side, and instantly did what they could to appease her once it began to show itself.  Besides, she was right.  They did have work to do elsewhere, and really shouldn't have wasted any more time on Sasha.

        Having made sure the pilots had retreated, Chesna turned and entered the room.  Instantly, Takagi rose from her chair to greet her.

        “Captain,” Takagi said, a bit surprised at Chesna's sudden presence.

        “At ease, Miki,” Chesna waved her off casually and strode past her to the bed where Gabriella was laying.

        “Sasha,” Chesna said sternly.  Though he had passively acknowledged her entrance before, the tone of her voice snapped him to full attention.  Slipping the photograph into his back pocket, he turned to face her.

        “Come with me.  We need to talk about something,” Chesna continued.  Complying, Sasha followed her out of the room and into the hallways of the ship.  The two walked a considerable distance from the infirmary before Chesna turned and faced Sasha, stopping him in his tracks.

        “Sasha, a—”

        “Sis, I'm sorry I—”

        “Let me finish,” Chesna cut him off.  There was an awkward pause between the two before she picked the conversation back up.

        “Are you absolutely certain that it's Gabriella?” she asked.  “Without any doubt at all?”

        “I'm certain.  It's been so long but I'm sure it's her,” he answered.

        “But you realize how impossible that is.  She died, you know that.”

        “We thought she died,” he corrected her.  “I—I know it sounds ridiculous, but it has to be her.  She looks just like—”

        “And how would you know what she looks like now?  You haven't seen her since—”

        “I just do!” Sasha protested adamantly.  “It's...I can't exactly explain it, but I can just tell, alright?”

        “Sasha,” Chesna said, her voice softer.

        “And,” Sasha reached into his pocket, producing the crumbled picture and thrusting it into Chesna's hands, “what other reason would she have for carrying this around if she wasn't Gabriella?”  Unraveling the picture, Chesna took but one look at it and gasped audibly.

        “This is...”

        “From back home,” Sasha finished for her.  Chesna could only slump against the wall as she stared at the picture.  She attempted to speak, but could only mouth the words.  She was in disbelief.  Sasha was right; it had to be Gabriella.  But more than that, she was frozen in place by what was in the background of the photo she was holding.  Their home.

        “But if it is Gabriella, that just raises more questions,” Yuri's voice echoed from down the hall as he approached.  Jarring Chesna back to reality, she quickly stepped away from the wall and handed the picture back to Sasha.

        “You were listening?” Sasha asked warily.

        “Boris wanted to see you two about something.  The new mobile suits, I think.  I just happened to overhear,” he responded frankly.

        “What were you saying about 'raising more questions?'” Chesna inquired.

        “Well, foremost, if it was Gabriella, what was she doing as an Allaster mobile suit pilot?” Yuri said, his eyes glancing between the two siblings.  They both paused.  In all the chaos following Gabriella's appearance, neither one had stopped to really consider that point.

        “Nevermind the fact that she's too young to have already gone through the academy and risen through the ranks to become a regular mobile suit pilot with apparently enough clout to be issued a special unit,” he started, “but knowing her and how close her family was to your father politically, how in the hell would she ever have agreed to work for the Empire in the first place?”  Sasha and Chesna went silent.  Neither one of them were quite capable of answering that question.

        “She...must have a good reason,” Sasha said cautiously.

        “Maybe,” Chesna added, “but the only way we'll know for sure is to ask her when she wakes up.”

        “Which brings up another point,” Yuri interjected, “what exactly are we going to do with her once she's healed?”

        “Well, we—” Sasha stopped mid-sentence.  He hadn't quite thought that far.  The realization of so many unknown variables at once hit him suddenly and he found himself unable to say anything.  What would they do once she'd recovered?  Why was she with the Allasters?  Already he was losing himself in a quick scramble for any way to answer those questions he could think of.  Though the expression on his face had barely changed, Chesna immediately picked up Sasha's sudden distress and immediately moved to change the subject.

        “S-So, Yuri,” she spoke up, “you said Boris had something he wanted to discuss with us?”  With her eyes, she communicated to Yuri that the conversation involving Gabriella would have to wait.

        “Huh?  O-Oh, right, right,” Yuri said.  “He's waiting in the briefing room for us right now.”

        “Let's not keep him waiting much longer then,” Chesna said, already making her way down the hall ahead of them.

        “Sasha, c'mon,” Yuri said, placing his hand on Sasha's shoulder.  Breaking his concentration, Yuri nodded down the hall, indicating for Sasha to follow him as he headed off after Chesna.  Sasha complied, shaking his head to clear his mind for the time being as he towed along behind Yuri.

        The briefing room aboard the Marzanna was much smaller than that of the Ranger.  Maybe half its size.  It had also been modified considerably by the Marzanna's crew, with the desks and podium and large dry-erase board for illustrating strategic maneuvers having been done away with, and a single long table and projection screen being installed in their place.  In a way, it served as a reflection of the Marzanna's more relaxed and democratic chain of command, though none aboard really gave such matters much thought.  And like every other room and corridor on the ship, its walls carried that same drab, dripping, dreary appearance that belied the actual quality of the ship’s upkeep.

        Seated at one of the chairs on the far end of the table with his back to the door, Boris tapped his foot anxiously, one hand holding a rather thick file while the other ran over his balding head, smoothing back hair that simply wasn’t there anymore.  His face was stern, his eyes locked on the notes in front of him.  He barely heard the door to the briefing room unlatch and swing open, but once he did, he immediately stood up out of his chair to greet the trio that stepped inside.  The last one in, Sasha pushed the door to behind him, but made no real attempt to shut it; it’s not like there was much of anything made classified from the rest of the crew, such a motion was simply to block out any errant noises that might interrupt their meeting.  Having risen to greet them, Boris immediately dropped back down into his chair and picked up the file.  Just as Chesna was reaching for a chair of her own, he was already getting straight to the point.

        “These two units you brought aboard,” he began in his typical gravely voice, “they are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

        “How so?” Chesna asked, resting her left elbow on the table and propping her chin up with a closed hand, eyeing Boris with intense curiosity.  Prompted by that question, Boris slid the oversized file down the table towards her.  Chesna only grabbed the top few pages, reading over them briefly as Yuri and Sasha picked apart the rest from their seats across from her.

        “Well, that new Allaster model, the IMS-14 Griffin it’s called, it must be incredibly agile.  It has nearly twice the number of verniers that a standard Gargoyle carries, and its thruster output is beyond even what the Flyboy’s modified unit can manage,” Boris said as the others read over his report.

        “It’s certainly maneuverable,” Yuri concurred, “I noticed the pilot even seemed to be having problems keeping it under control.”

        “Yes, I can see why.  If this is the Allasters’ new infantry unit, then they’ve certainly made some large technological leaps over the Gargoyle or Minotaur.  And not just in how mobile it is.”

        “You mean the weapons?” Yuri inquired, hinting at the beam saber he’d encountered.

        “Yeah,” Boris said, his voice getting lower, “the Empire’s now placing beam weapons on their mobile suits.  The last time either of us saw anything like that was—”

        “Project Midgard,” Chesna interrupted him, staring intently at the summary she was reading.  “This says that other unit is from Project Midgard.  Boris, are you sure about this?”

        “That’s what it said in its operating system.  I can hardly believe it myself, but that suit seems to be the genuine article.”

        “One of Lucien’s 'Gundam' suits,” Chesna trailed off, laying the pages she was holding on the table.

        “Well, I guess now we know why that Saviour woman was so bent on obtaining it,” Yuri said.  Sasha, who had been listening in on the other three while browsing over some of the more technical specs of the two suits, now turned his full attention to them.

        “What's ‘Project Midgard?’” he asked.

        “It was a mobile suit development plan from back before your time,” Yuri answered, “an attempt to revamp the Confederation’s mobile suits and improve on the Sabre.  A friend of ours headed the project; he gave the prototype units the name ‘Gundam’ for some reason or another.”

        “Well, there was more to it than that,” Chesna corrected him, “but that’s basically it in a nutshell.”  With that, she then turned back to Boris, “So this Gundam, I’m assuming it's not missing any important parts?”

        “It wouldn't if you guys had grabbed the whole container,” Boris responded.  “I ran a system diagnostic on the suit, and it mentioned some armaments and engine attachments that seem to be missing.  Sasha, you said there was a broken assault rifle in that container, correct?”

        “Yeah, it was snapped clean in half, why?”

        “That was no assault rifle, my boy,” Boris said, “it was actually a beam rifle if you can believe that.”

        “’Beam’ rifle?” Sasha raised an eyebrow at the old man.

        “You heard me.  It was a mobile suit’s rifle made capable of firing off beam rounds nearly as strong as a battleship’s secondary turrets.  Had it been intact, you could have obliterated each of those Allaster patrol goons with a single shot,” Boris said, as impressed with the concept himself as Sasha now was.

        “And what about the chassis?” Yuri asked.

        “Just as you suspect.  The joints are magnetically coated to prevent wear and everything.  It’s one of his Gundams through and through.”

        “Did the diagnostic also say something about a beam saber?” Sasha inquired, attempting to confirm what he thought he had seen when he first boarded the suit.

        “Indeed it did,” Boris answered, “those two prongs positioned on either side of the head?  Those were the hilts.”  Sasha nodded warily, the thought of beam weapons on a mobile suit still having yet to really sink it.

        “Ah, which reminds me of something,” Boris said, reaching for his report and fumbling through the pages, “I noticed something peculiar when checking over both suits.  It’s about those very sabers.”  After a moment of searching, he produced the page he was looking for, handing it off to Yuri.  Reading it over, Yuri’s eyes glanced up over the top of the paper, placing a suspicious eye on Boris.

        “They’re identical in their internal construction,” Yuri said.

        Boris nodded, “Aside from colour and casing, they’re the same.  You know what that means, I’m sure.”

        “The Empire possibly has their own Gundams,” Chesna filled in Boris’ cryptic inference.  “Either that, or they’ve somehow obtained Project Midgard’s research data.”  The four of them went quiet for a second, each one pondering precisely what that could mean.

        “Either way, though, it doesn’t concern us for the immediate future,” Chesna spoke up, clearing the air.  “Boris, what are the chances of either the Gundam or the Griffin being repaired.”

        “Eh, the Griffin is a relatively simple fix.  Though it’s a next-generation model, it’s still similar enough in construction to the Gargoyle that we can scuttle that junk unit in the back of the hangar for any parts we may need and have it at least functional by the late shift,” Boris waved off the idea with an absolute confidence in his abilities.

        “And the Gundam?” Yuri asked.

        “Not a chance,” Boris rejected him flatly.  “Nevermind the fact that we couldn’t possibly duplicate any of Midgard’s advancements with what we have, but just refitting it to work like a normal mobile suit would require more resources than what’s currently available on board.  Oh sure, it can move, but too much of the fine circuitry and frame construction’s a mess for us to even try sorting that out here.”

        “Damn,” Chesna cursed, “Well, do what you can with the Griffin to get it working.  Yuri, if it’s alright with you, I’d like you to take that suit once it’s ready.”

        “I have no problems with that,” Yuri smirked.

        “Boris, thank you for taking care of the report.  You’ve actually helped us out more than you know,” Chesna said graciously, rising to her feet.  Collecting the pages of his report, Boris did the same and bowed his head to her.

        “Of course, of course.  And I will have the Griffin ready for you as soon as possible.  If I may be excused,” with that, he made his way to the door and showed himself out.

        “Chesna,” Sasha spoke up, also rising out of his chair, “I’m going to be taking my leave, as well.  I’d like to get some rest and then see if I can’t help Boris with the suit repairs.”  With an approving nod from Chesna, Sasha also slipped out of the room, leaving only his sister and Yuri remaining behind.  Sighing, Chesna dropped back down into her chair and set her head atop her hand, glancing over to Yuri.

        “What do you think the odds are he’s going to go visit Gabriella again?” she asked.

        “Was there ever any doubt he would?” Yuri reclined in his seat and yawned.  He hadn’t had a break since the mission to retrieve the Gundam, and he was expectedly beat.

        “How’s the wound?” Chesna asked, her eyes fixed on the fairly large bandage on Yuri’s forehead, covering the gash he’d received during the mission.

        “A few stitches.  I’ll live,” he said calmly.

        “Hm,” she mused to herself, “So, do you think her being here will have any adverse effects on Sasha?” she asked at length.

        “I’d say it already has.  I haven’t seen Sasha this distracted and absent minded in ages.  Though he has been much more active and animate.”

        “But do you think, y’know, once the shock of it all has died down, that there will be any long term effects on him?”

        Yuri shrugged, “Hard to say.  I guess it’ll depend on what her state of mind is like.”

        “Meaning?”

        “There has to be some reason she’s working on the Allasters’ side,” he said, turning to face her straight-on.  “And I can’t think of any logical reason a girl like her would do such a thing willingly.”

        Chesna pondered the idea cautiously, “You think maybe she’s being forced to work against her will?  A conscript, perhaps?”

        “I think that’s the best we could hope for,” Yuri said, his words hinting at his suspicion of something much worse at play.

        “Well, whatever the outcome, just what are we going to do with her once she comes to?” Chesna asked.

        “I don’t know.  We can’t keep her here, and we can’t exactly just kick her out onto the streets of some colony to fend for herself.”  He then added, “And I wouldn’t exactly feel comfortable returning her to the Empire’s control, either.  Especially if they’re doing to her what I think they are.”

        Chesna sighed, “Whatever happens, I don’t think it’s something Sasha will agree to readily.”

        “We might not have much of a choice, though,” Yuri said.  The two of them went silent after that, and sat in the briefing room quietly tending to their own separate thoughts on the matter.  It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant conversation they’d ever had, nor was it one either of them was necessarily eager to entertain further.

        “By the way,” Chesna broke their lengthy silence, “have you heard anything more about that Allaster patrol ship?”

        “That Perseus?” Yuri asked, “last I was told, it’s still following us, but it’s keeping a considerable distance.”

        “Tenacious bastards, aren’t they?  I suppose they think they’re tracking us to our ‘secret pirate lair?’” Chesna remarked cynically.

        “I think it’s more that they believe we’re holding Gabriella hostage,” Yuri responded, “After all, from their perspective, that’s the most likely reason we’d abduct her like we did.”

        “Wouldn’t they have demanded we turn her over by now, if that were the case?”

        “Probably,” Yuri mused, “I’m guessing they’re likely still regrouping, and have yet to really get that far, though.  That unit Sasha shot down was a Commander’s Type, after all; they’re probably down a leader.”

        “That is true,” Chesna said casually.

        “Y’know,” Yuri said tentatively, “maybe we really should hold Gabriella as a hostage.  Demand that they back off or else we...you know...”

        “Ha!” Chesna sat forward suddenly, “and just how do you think we’ll convince Sasha to go along with that plan?”

        “I’m not saying we really would kill her if they didn’t do as we said.  A good bluff goes a long way.”

        “Still, I imagine that would bring more trouble than it’s worth.  We wouldn’t simply be a pirate nuisance, at that point; we’d be full-on terrorists.”

        “Well, you got me there,” Yuri yawned again and stretched in his seat.  “Actually, I think Sasha had the right idea.  I could use a couple hours’ sleep after everything that’s happened.”

        “You’ve earned it,” Chesna said as Yuri rose to his feet, still stretching.

        “Are you sure you can handle things here?  I mean, I could—”

        “No, no, just go, I’ll call you if I need you, but I can’t have you wearing yourself thin unnecessarily,” Chesna interrupted, waving him off with a lazy gesture as he made his way around the table for the door.

        “Alright, alright.”  Opening the door, Yuri stepped out and let it close slightly behind him.  With his exeunt, Chesna was the only person still left in the room.  Left to ponder the rapidly increasing and increasingly shocking repercussions that seemed to gush forth from their excursion into the Graveyard.

-------- 

        Trailing well behind the Marzanna, the Ranger lingered at a distance just within range of the pirate ship’s sensors, but well out of sufficient range for either ship to instigate combat.  It followed, unwaveringly, the goal of running the pirates down and claiming revenge in mind, but the exact plan of action still escaping its crew, leaving them incapable of doing anything but trailing along behind.  So they trailed.  Inside, the corridors of the ship were clouded with hushed whispers and an uneasy air.  The gung-ho consensus that ran through the crew barely hours earlier was now shattered, and replaced with an utter loss as to what to do.  They were minus their commanding officer, they were down a capable pilot, and they were down two top-rate mobile suits.  And all from an accidental confrontation.

        Within the ship's briefing room, the tense and uncertain atmosphere was at its peak.  There, Bale paced furiously up and down the center of the room, between the two semicircular clusters of desks.  He stormed back and forth like a caged animal, fidgeting and frequently running his hand through his hair.  Along the back wall leaned Chris and Ahri, the two of them watching Bale, Ahri the worse for wear of the trio, visibly shaken.  All three were silent.  They had been told to wait in the briefing room for instruction from a new commander, but that was twenty minutes ago.  Used to Iverson's promptness, this delay—what they perceived as a lack of efficient command—only put them at greater unease.

        “This is bullshit.  This's BULLSHIT!” Bale suddenly bellowed, kicking a desk nearby and causing the entire row to jostle and shudder out of place.  Ahri flinched at the display, unconsciously leaning closer to Chris, whose arm was already draped around her shoulder.

        “Bale, calm down already!” Chris shouted.

        “'Calm down?'  The fuck, man, did you not see what just happened!?”

        “Yes I did, we all did, but pitching a fit isn't gonna undo any of it!” Chris pointed accusingly at the uneven desks as he spoke.  Bale simply grumbled and averted his gaze, arms folded gruffly across his chest.

        “Look man, you weren't the only one Gabriella meant something to.  We're all feelin' it.  We're all pretty fucking torn up over it.  But what's ripping this room apart gonna do about it?”

        “Tch, still bullshit,” Bale pouted, glaring at Chris from the corner of his eye.

        “Never said it wasn't.  Just sayin' you need to stop wasting all that machismo on the poor desks.  Wait a few fuckin' minutes and use it on those pirates when we go to get her back.”  Bale sighed and didn't pursue the argument any further.  Chris was right; it was kind if a habit of his.  And there was no sense wasting energy arguing about wasting energy.  Once again the three of them went silent.  Bale was no longer pacing.  Instead, he slumped down in the seat of the desk he kicked, arms still folded, his leg twitching from agitation.

        “It's not just Gabs, either,” Ahri spoke up, her eyes gazing off at some downward angle.  “The commander, too...”

        “Old Man Iverson was like an uncle to us,” Chris added, an air of sadness to his voice.

        “He practically brought us all up from the academy single-handedly,” Bale added, looking away, his voice more subdued.  “Trained us, showed us the basics, gave us our first real-world experience...”

        “Yeah, and then they get him with some fuckin' cheap shot,” Chris said bitterly.

        “What the hell was that thing, anyway?” Bale asked suddenly, looking up at the other two.  “Didn't look like any suit I've ever seen.”

        “I thought it was a Sabre at first, but I've never seen a Sabre move like that,” Ahri said.

        “Yeah, me neither.  And that thing was crippled, too, you could tell.  The fuck was that thing?” Chris echoed Bale's question in his own words.

        “That's precisely what you're going to find out,” a stern and commanding voice announced as it entered the room, prompting the trio to quickly stand at attention.  In strode a rather severe-looking middle aged man in a commander's uniform, squinted eyes watching the trio behind a pair of thin-rimmed glasses set upon a crooked, hooked nose.  In his arm rested a folder, which he set upon the podium at the front of the room, using his now free hand to smooth back the thinning, silvery grey hair on his head.

        “At ease, take a seat,” the man said, his voice unwavering as he sifted through the files in the folder.  Bale, Chris, and Ahri did as instructed, each one approaching the front of the room and taking a desk.

        “Apologies for the long wait, but we were waiting to hear back from the Sentinel unit that was dispatched to back us up.  The regrettable loss of Commander Iverson has placed us at a disadvantage, and we were anticipating receiving their aid or some sort of further instruction regarding the pursuit of these pirates.”  The aged officer finished shuffling his papers and looked up to the trio seated in front of him.

        “Unfortunately, they had nothing to add,” he continued, his voiced raised in agitation, “and essentially told us to improvise until they arrive.”

        “Lieutenant Commander Linder,” Bale said, raising his hand, “what did you mean when you said we 'were going to find out?'”

        “It should be simple enough to figure out.  Those pirates were after that mobile suit.  You are going to find out why and, if at all possible, retrieve the unit.”

        “With just the three of us?” Chris inquired, also raising his hand.

        “I've spoken separately to Master Caulfield's team regarding this mission.  They will be providing backup for you, as well as assisting the Ranger in open combat against ship itself.  They will attack from two sides, a member of Aller's reserve team filling in the fourth position, while we bring up the rear.  At the same time, you three will strike the ship's hangar, and retrieve both the unknown unit and the damaged Griffin.  Even if we cannot sink them, we will put an end to whatever business they're doing in this area.  Is that clear?”

        “Why am I not with my team?” Bale asked, skepticism covering his face, “And what are we going to do about Lieutenant Valentine?”

        “Your leadership qualities will benefit the retrieval portion of this mission moreso than the assault, Master Caulfield—”

        “Please stop calling me 'Master,'” Bale interrupted Linder, grimacing and glaring defiantly at the lieutenant commander.

        “Others around here may think so little of your status as to forego formalities, but as long as you bear the Caulfield name, I will address you as 'Master' as your being part of one of the chief constituent houses demands.  Even if you act like a petulant urchin,” Linder nearly spat, his voice raising further.  Bale slumped back into his seat as Linder cleared his throat and continued.

        “Now, even though I am physically unable to be out in the field myself, I will issue your subordinates orders from the bridge of the Ranger.  They are in good hands.”

        “And Gabriella?” Bale grumbled.

        “The Marzanna has not issued any statements leading us to suspect that Lieutenant Valentine is being held hostage.  They would be stupid to provoke such a situation, and our intelligence on them leads us to believe they don't take prisoners.  This is not a rescue mission; you are to sortie under the assumption she is already dead and carry out your objectives to the letter.”

        Bale lurched forward in his seat, mouth agape.  He started to object, but was frozen where he sat.  He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

        “Think it callous?” Linder eyed him fiercely, “Don't misunderstand me, the loss of the Lieutenant is as grievous to us as the loss of Iverson.  But this enemy is extremely dangerous, and we're taxing our resources enough as it is to simply slow them down and find out what they're up to.  To play hero for a soldier who is likely no longer alive would only jeopardize our efforts further; we cannot afford to risk lives on a lofty uncertainty, now is that understood?”

        “Sir,” the other three echoed, a defeated and sullen air to their voices.

        “Good,” Linder continued, “The mission will commence in forty-five minutes.  We'll have closed the gap on the enemy within twenty.  Ensign Emmerich, for this sortie I'm issuing you the remaining IMS-08.  You'll need the extra power to crack the ship's hull.  Master Caulfield, you will continue to utilize the IMS-14.  That is all.  Go get ready, and good luck.”

        “Sir!” the trio rose to their feet and saluted in unison before making for the exit.  Passing by Linder, Bale gave the man a quick, piercing glance out of the corner of his eye.  He wanted to scream at the man, spit in his face and curse him for being a cold-hearted bastard.  But this was all he could do for now as he headed off silently in the direction of his bunk, Linder's unwavering, unimpressed gaze staring him right back the entire time.

-------- 

        “You said they're on the move?” Yuri strode quickly onto the Marzanna's bridge, blinking away the remnants of a light sleep as he threw on a black long sleeve shirt over a faded grey tee, an elastic band for his hair pinched between his teeth.  In front of him, Chesna and Sasha were already leaning over a console watching the Ranger's movement.  Chesna glanced up at Yuri as he entered and motioned him over.

        “See for yourself.  Just in the past seven minutes they've picked up speed considerably.  They've also opened their hangar bay.”  She paused, brushing away some hair that had fallen in front of her face, “I guess they opted against negotiation after all.”

        “How nice, leave your captive pilot for dead and just run out guns a-blazing,” Yuri quipped as he fiddled with the band, putting his hair back in its usual ponytail before leaning over the monitor to get a look.  It was slow, but noticeable.  The radar blip that represented the Ranger was inching closer to screen's center, where in the hours prior it had stayed almost unmoving at the far right edge of the screen.

        “Looks to be about twenty to twenty-five before it's on top of us,” Yuri estimated.  “Are we planning on staying and fighting it out?”

        “We don't know their numbers just yet,” Sasha spoke up, “Presumably it'll be the same squadron from before as well as that group that jumped in to help them.  That'd be six of their suits to five of ours.”

        “Not bad odds,” Yuri shrugged.

        “Assuming we guess right.  Also,” Sasha looked up at Yuri, “I was helping Boris double check our equipment stores before I was called up here.  Doesn't look good.”

        “We've got less ammunition than we'd counted on,” Chesna laid it out straight.  “That last battle wasn't exactly a smooth operation.”

        “And your Gargoyle's still in pretty bad shape,” Sasha added.  “Flying around with that backpack on fucked up some internal stuff we didn't catch before.”

        “Damn,” Yuri muttered, placing his hand on his chin, “So we can't just slug it out.  Why don't we run?  An Antigone's faster than a Perseus, and it's not like there's a lot of traffic or debris we've got to maneuver around.”

        “None yet,” Chesna answered, “But we're entering EDEN-05 airspace.  There are plenty of Imperial freighters and non-broadcasting pirates floating through there to make a straight sprint a gamble.  Not to mention the debris fields around the border.”

        “There are fuel concerns, too,” Sasha added.  “It's been a few days since we last refueled, and we need to conserve what's left if we're going to make it to this Saviour woman's rendezvous.”

        “Fuck, you're right,” Yuri rolled his head and sighed gruffly.  He still hadn't fully woken up, and the sleep that still clung to him was clearly impeding his judgment.  Placing his hand over his face, he let it slide slowly down to his chin again as he tried to concoct some kind of plan.  Unfortunately, all he could do was draw a blank.

        “Can't run, can't fight, so all we do is just let them overtake us?” he asked rhetorically.

        “We could try setting a trap,” Sasha suggested.

        “But we don't really have a whole lot of materials on hand that'd enable us to slow up a larger ship and superior mobile suit numbers without significant risk to ourselves,” Chesna corrected him.  “We could do something ridiculously dangerous, but I'd rather not chance screwing us over as much as we'd screw them over.  This isn't exactly a situation dire enough to resort to such things yet.”  As she spoke, she walked over to the window at the front of the bridge and looked out into the empty space ahead of them.

        “We'd be better off digging in and fighting it out than we would setting a trap with the equipment we have on-hand,” she added with a thought.

        “It'd be nice if we had a prop or something we could use,” Yuri said with a grunt, stretching his arms.  “I'd venture to say we had an easier time against them in the debris field because of all the crap floating around we could use for cover and deception tactics.”

        “But we don't have anything, we're in the middle of empty space at the moment,” Sasha pointed out, keeping an eye on the sensors trained on the Ranger.

        “Yeah, the nearest debris field is...” Chesna trailed off.  Something outside had caught her eye.  It was a space colony, not too far out ahead of the Marzanna.  It looked to be in pretty good shape, and they were close enough to EDEN-05's airspace, so she had simply assumed it was an occupied colony that had strayed a bit from its original position.  But as she gazed out at it, she noticed a gaping hole on its far side, and the horribly collapsed state of one of its space ports.  One of the solar veins was bent, too, with several mirrors shattered.  There was no way that wreckage was air-tight.  She stared at it for a few more seconds.  It had to be emptied inside, but was impressively well preserved.  Without realizing it, a ponderous smile had crept across her lips.

        “Can anyone identify that colony out in front of us?” she asked suddenly.

        “Appears to be 0519.  Prague Colony,” a crewman answered her.

        “Prague was destroyed in the war, yes?”

        “Yes ma'am.  A victim of the Ninth Fleet Counteroffensive.”

        “<Perfect,>” he whispered to herself.  She stepped away from the window and strode towards the captain's chair on its cramped, elevated platform at the center of the room.

        “Sis?” Sasha said as he looked up from the screens.  Stopping mid-stride, she glanced over her shoulder with a coy expression on her face.

        “<We have our trap,>” she said simply before slipping into the seat.  Propping her left elbow on the arm of the chair, she rested her chin lightly on the back of half-curved fingers and began to issue orders in a loud, commanding voice.

        “Increase this ship's speed by a third and make for that colony up ahead.  I want turrets active and trained on the enemy ship.  Keep it at bay once it comes into range.  Have Nina and Johann ready on the catapults in ten with bazookas, two to a suit and fully loaded.  They are to await further instruction once they get there.”

        “Yes ma'am!” a rousing chorus rose from the bridge crew.  Watching the spectacle, Yuri's mind finally kicked awake and he quickly pieced together precisely what Chesna had in mind.  He smirked as he sauntered over to her chair.

        “<You're planning on flying in there, aren't you?>” he asked confidently.

        “<Johann and Nina will make a door for us, and then slam it back in the enemy's face.  Assuming they can even fit inside, there'll be enough debris inside to give us the advantage,>” she answered, confirming his suspicion.

        “<It could be dangerous in there,>” he said, challenging her.  She simply grinned.

        “<It's not much better out here.  At least inside the colony, we'll have cover and a hiding place once we shake them.>”

        “I assume we have a role in this as well?” Sasha asked, entering himself into the conversation.

        “Go get Adrik and have Boris prepare your units.  And you said that Griffin is ready already, right?”

        “Repairs went smoother than initially anticipated, yes.”

        “Good, tell him to get it ready, too,” she then turned and looked to Yuri, “As we agreed, that's your new suit from now on.  You three will launch after Johann and Nina and provide a distraction for their mobile suits.  Six enemy units between the three of you shouldn't be a problem.”

        “Not at all,” Yuri said.  “Sasha, you go ahead and get our suits ready.”

        “Gotcha,” with a nod, Sasha was out, already heading for the hangar.  Yuri lingered behind momentarily and hovered over the captain's chair.

        “<So, am I to take this sudden burst of confidence as a sign that the Emerald Baroness is back to her old self?>” he asked coyly.  As if a switch were flipped, Chesna's grinning visage turned dark, and she eyed Yuri with visible agitation.

        “<Make no mistake, that title has no relevance to me anymore.  Anyone could've conceived this plan, and if I were half of what I used to be, I'd have assembled it much quicker,>” Chesna hissed in a whisper just low enough that none of the bridge crew could make it out.

        “<Sorry, sorry,>” Yuri backed off.  He had misjudged her and was now on the defensive, his teasing having accidentally struck a genuine nerve.

        “<Just get ready.  Be careful out there,>” Chesna said coldly, fixing her gaze ahead of her.

        “<Alright,>” Yuri said quietly.  “<You be careful, too,>” he added as he made for the door.  With a pained look in her eyes, she turned and glanced over her shoulder, watching him as he left.

-------- 

        The first pair of Gargoyles barely had time to clear the Ranger's launch deck before a shot from the Marzanna's rear beam turret crossed dangerously close to the bow of the ship.  Within an instant, a barrage of smaller munitions fire followed the larger cannon's, forcing the Ranger to lurch to one side as the Marzanna's engines lit up and the ship began to gain speed.  The Ranger momentarily disoriented, a couple of Gargoyles slipped out of the Marzanna's hangar and shot out ahead of the ship's path, both of them hefting large bazookas over each shoulder.

        “You're gonna keep those bastards off of us, right?” Nina said over her suit's radio as she and Johann made for the colony.

        “If we get the chance.  Right now it looks like Chesna might have them pinned down all on her own,” Yuri replied.  His Griffin was positioned on one of the ship's catapults, crouched over in a takeoff position while Sasha's Gargoyle stepped up on the catapult next to him.

        “What about those two that already launched?” Sasha asked.

        “They're hanging back.  Looks like they're waiting on their wingmen,” Yuri replied.  “We launch when they start their approach.”  Just then, the Marzanna hefted to one side, and a bright green beam streaked in front of the open hangar.

        “Looks like they finally decided to return fire,” Adrik said, pulling his Gargoyle up behind Sasha's.

        “Two more Gargoyles confirmed.  Units on approach!” a voice from the bridge came in over the radios of all three waiting suits.

        “That's our cue!  Yuri, out!” the Griffin shot forward and into space, the engines firing and launching the suit at incredible speeds.

        “Sasha, heading out!” Sasha followed, with Adrik following a half moment later.

        “I can see why she had trouble with this thing.  It's been a long time since I handled anything his fast,” Yuri remarked, slowing the suit and reorienting it in space.  Producing a pair of stripped down assault rifles from the skirt armor and ducking to avoid a stray beam shot from the Ranger, he gave the signal for the other two to get into formation behind him.

        “They're coming in twos from the left and right.  Sasha, you take the left, Adrik, you take the right, I'll—”

        “Three more hostiles confirmed.  One's a Griffin,” the voice from the bridge interrupted him.

        “Three units?” Sasha asked.

        “Fucks musta had reserves,” Adrik grumbled.

        “Makes no matter, just changes our plans a bit,” Yuri said calmly, looking at the units on either side of him.  “I'll take the new trio, you guys keep on the pairs.  Just keep them away from the Marzanna.  Now go!”  At his order, the three pirate mobile suits charged ahead, rifles ready.  The first to meet his targets, Adrik darted between the enemy Gargoyles, scattering them with gunfire and spinning around to face them.  He raised his rifle and fired a second time at one unit breaking for the ship, forcing it to evade while the second came at him and drew its knife.  Dodging the charge easily enough, Adrik hit the front verniers on his suit and dove backwards while firing on the knife-wielding enemy as he tried to right himself.

        At the same time, Sasha met his opponents head on with a similar tactic, diving between them and opening fire to split them up.  However, as one turned to face him, he he spun around quickly and flung one of his knives directly at its arm, knocking the rifle from its hand and splitting the arm halfway up to the elbow.  With one unit reeling, Sasha turned his attention to the other, dodging a round of fire and returning one of his own, grazing the suit's shoulder and putting it on the run.  As the unit retreated, Sasha opened up a second salvo and gave chase while the second unit remained momentarily incapacitated.  Further up ahead, the remaining three suits from the Ranger, Bale's team, hung back and monitored the scene.

        “Looks like they got a fight ahead of 'em,” Chris remarked, reaching up and grabbing the handle attached to the Minotaur's cannon, bringing the barrel down into a firing position.

        “Should've expected it, though,” Bale answered.  “Still, they can handle themselves.  Hopefully.  Our job is to reach the ship, not do their job for them.  Now, on my mark—”

        “Enemy unit in-bound,” Ahri interrupted him, “Just one, but...”

        “But what?” Bale responded, calmly reaching for his suit's rifle and bringing up a visual of the incoming unit on his view screen.  What he saw, though, made him freeze.  And nearly got him killed.

        “Bale, fuckin' move!” Chris shouted, ramming his Griffin with the Minotaur's shoulder and barely dodging twin streams of gunfire.  The only one still able, Ahri returned fire as Yuri's suit flew past and came back around.

        “That was her—” Bale stuttered, snapping back to reality.  Spinning around, he caught a second glimpse of Yuri as he raised both rifles and made a sweeping arc of fire over the trio, forcing them into another split-second dodge.  The more he watched the suit, the more Bale grew incensed.  Whoever was in that suit had no right to be there.  It wasn't their Griffin to use.  It was all terribly wrong.  That was her suit!

        “Bale?  Bale!  We could use some fuckin' help here, man!” Chris' calls steadily faded in as the clouds dissipated from Bale's mind.  The other two were already in the process of fighting the enemy in the Griffin, all the while trying their hardest to break for the pirate ship.  Bewilderment now fully replaced by anger, Bale clenched his suit's controls tightly and shouted.

        “You bastard!”  Producing both of the Griffin's beam sabers, he dove headlong for the Griffin ahead of him.  Yuri dodged as Bale swung the weapons wildly, ducking and backing away.

        “Where is she!?  What have you done with her!?” Bale yelled as he continued to charge madly at the now-enemy Griffin.  Inadvertently, though Yuri had no trouble dodging his attacks, Bale had managed to provide enough of a distraction for the other two to head for the Marzanna.  He wasn't nearly on Yuri's level, but all the same, Bale had just enough skill and mindless aggression to hold him back.

        “<Shit,>” Yuri spat, watching the Gargoyle and Minotaur break for the ship.  “Chesna, bad news, two broke through!”

        “We're aware, heads up.”

        “Hah?” Yuri barely had time to contemplate what she meant before a grey blur passed in between himself and the attacking Griffin.  Within an instant, the blur produced a glinting flash of metal from its back and split one of the Griffin's beam saber hilts clean in two, causing the suit to jump back.  It was Sasha's Gargoyle.

        “Sasha!” Yuri blurted.

        “You're suit's faster, go after those two,” Sasha replied.

        “Where are your targets?”

        “Adrik's got two on the run and a third can't hold a gun properly.  One got through, but Sis has got him at bay and he can't get near.”

        “What about you?”

        “<I've got this guy, now go!>”

        Yuri hesitated, “<Be careful, kiddo,>” he turned and sped off in the direction of the other two suits as Sasha turned his attention to Bale.  Having taken a second to gather himself and ensure that the only damage taken was to the saber, Bale was now ready to go again, and made an attempt to dive after Yuri as he broke away.  But as soon as he made his move, Sasha blocked his path with his Gargoyle.

        “He's no longer your concern,” Sasha said coolly, opening his radio channels and raising his knife in an offensive stance.

        “Goddamn you!” Bale turned up and swung his saber at Sasha.  Parrying the attack, Sasha thrust one of his blades at the Griffin's shoulder, causing causing Bale to jump back.  Bale charged a second time, and again Sasha brushed his arm to one side and very nearly missed his own strike.

        “Get the fuck out of my way!” Bale growled.  Again he charged at Sasha and again Sasha sidestepped.  But this time, instead of counterattacking, Sasha grabbed hold of the arm wielding the saber and held it, locking the suits together.

        “I'm afraid I can't do that,” Sasha said flatly.  It was such a monotone delivery that his intent to taunt the Griffin pilot sounded eerily genuine.  As Bale pulled back, trying to free his arm, Sasha raised the knife held in his free hand and thrust it forward.  In a sudden reflexive flash, Bale leaned his suit back, pulling Sasha forward and throwing him off balance.  With Sasha disoriented, Bale pulled his arm free and swung the saber upward, dangerously close to the opposing Gargoyle's chest.  Just barely avoiding a genuinely damaging blow, Sasha rolled his suit forward over Bale and then turned back around to face him.  There was now a long, shallow cut across his Gargoyle's torso and across the right wrist.  He was forced to drop the knife in the exchange, as well.

        “Ha!” with the momentum shifted in his favor, Bale jumped forward, raising the saber over his head and bringing it down on Sasha.  Throwing up the suit's arms, Sasha only just managed to block the attack, but now had both arms busied on just keeping the saber at bay.  Taking advantage, Bale used his free hand to reach for his rifle, putting it to Sasha at point blank.

        “<Fuck!>” Sasha stammered.  Gunning the Gargoyle's engines, he burst forward suddenly, jumping above the gun's barrel and overpowering the saber arm.  Raising the Gargoyle's foot, Sasha produced a long, narrow blade from the toe and kicked at the Griffin's cockpit.  He missed, jamming the blade into one of the chest exhaust vents instead, but it was enough to throw Bale backwards.  In a fluid motion following the kick, Sasha grabbed his knife and made a quick slashing motion at the retreating Bale, cutting the wrist on the arm holding the beam saber.  The two suits jumped back and found themselves at a temporary stalemate.  Unable to operate the hand wielding the saber, Bale discarded it and raised his rifle.

        “Should have counted on something like that from a pirate like you,” Bale remarked.  “Sneaky, scavenging bastards.”

        “Hn,” Sasha simply exhaled sharply in response, sheathing his remaining knife and retracting the blade on his suit's toe.

        “So after you took her suit, what did you do with her?  What'd you do with Gabriella?”

        “And what do you have to do with her?” Sasha hissed with sudden agitation.  The response took Bale by surprise.  This guy sounded like he somehow knew her himself.  Still, he didn't let it lower his guard.  He knew he couldn't make that mistake again.  He had to play it cool.

        “Simple,” Bale said, keeping himself composed, “in a way, you could say she and I are a bit of an item.”  Sasha leaned back in surprise, hardly expecting a response like that.  Taking advantage of his moment of hesitation, Bale let loose with the rifle and emptied his clip in Sasha's direction.

        At the same time, on the other end of the battlefield, the Marzanna was nearing the colony at the fastest speed it could safely manage.  It had begun to turn to one side, in order to line itself up with the wrecked port, and both forward beam turrets could now train themselves on the advancing Ranger.

        “All main forward batteries and starboard cannons take aim and fire at will!” Chesna commanded, standing at the front of the bridge.  “Hold them at bay as long as you can!”  Within seconds, the two massive turrets at the front of the ship roared to life, green flashes of beam energy streaking towards the Imperials’ ship as smaller shell-firing cannons filled the gap in between rounds.  Instantly, the Ranger slowed its approach and turned sharply to its port side.  Though the larger Perseus packed a wider arsenal, the angle at which it had advanced on the smaller Antigone put it at a disadvantage, limiting the number of weapons it could actually train on the enemy ship.  Linder hadn’t counted on these simple pirates, noteworthy though they were, putting up such a tenacious defense, which when combined with his desperate bid to run down the Marzanna all on his own, had led him to make a painful tactical error.  So for now, all the Ranger’s crew could do was evade and attempt to position themselves in a more favorable position to counterattack.  Somehow, on some instinctive level, Chesna had counted on this psychological factor all along, and was now exploiting it masterfully.

        “That’ll only hold them off for so long,” Chesna said quietly to herself,” Nina, what’s your status?”

        “We’re in position, but one of the enemy Gargoyles got through and seems to want to start some shit,” Nina’s voice crackled over the radio.

        “Must be the one we scared off.  Adrik, where are you?”

        “I got two on the run.  One unarmed, the other trying to steer me your way,” Adrik’s voice called out.  Glancing out of the port side windows of the bridge, Chesna could see the engine trails of two Gargoyles being chased around by the larger, brighter signature of Adrik’s unit.

        “Damn, Yuri?” Chesna called.

        “I’m a little busy myself.  Just caught two more making a dash for the hangar.  Sasha’s handling a third elsewhere.”

        Chesna sneered a little, “Alright.  Nina, see if you or Johann can take him out on your own so we can begin our approach.”

        “I’ll see what I can do,” Nina groaned.  The port in question was a tangled mess jutting out from one end of the colony.  At one time it had served as a runway of sorts for civilian shuttles, and sported a pair of long, magnetic arms with several smaller guidance structures all surrounding a large entrance sealed off by a trio of heavy gates, one after another, which kept the inside spaceport sealed off from the vacuum outside.  Now, however, two of the three gates were nearly smashed in, and the guidance arms had become bent and warped.  Fortunately for Nina and Johann, they made for great cover, as their weapons-laden suits now ducked behind them in relative safety while the lone enemy suit buzzed about, looking for its opportunity to swoop down on them.  Normally, one Gargoyle wouldn’t be a problem for them, but with two heavy bazookas each—weapons not ideal for dogfighting to begin with, but that also weighed them down immensely—the situation shifted out of their favor.

        “’Oy, Johann, got any ideas?” Nina asked as she watched the enemy fly over their perch.

        “Well, we could try a decoy, but I don’t really see anything here that could be useful,” Johann replied, his suit’s monoeye scanning their vicinity for some sort of loose debris.  Nina mouthed a curse to herself and looked outside again at the enemy.  As she watched it, however, the idea of a decoy festered in her head.  Glancing back at Johann, a sinister grin creeped across her face.

        “You got anything?” Johann asked simply.

        “Yeah.”

        “Great!  What?”

        “A decoy.”

        “Huh?”  In one smooth motion, Nina set one of her bazookas aside and, with her free hand, grabbed at the shoulder of Johann’s Gargoyle.  With a heaving motion, she shoved his unit out into the open space and retrieved her weapon.

        “He~ey, what the hell are you—!?” Johann shrieked.  Instantly, the keen-eyed enemy took notice of him and dove in to attack.  Johann, floundered, trying to level one of his bulky, ponderous weapons on the enemy.  But right as he managed to get one of the bazookas even remotely near the oncoming Gargoyle, its chest erupted in a fireball and it lurched to one side, passing by his flailing unit with all the limp splendor of a ragdoll.  Glancing over, he saw Nina, floating there from behind her covered perch with one smoking bazooka barrel aimed in his direction.  Though he couldn’t see it, she had a humongous, cheesy grin on her face.

        “Told you I had an idea,” she said gleefully.

        “Fuck you!”

        “Ooh, I got you to say the F-word,” Nina snickered as Johann righted his suit and the two of them emerged from cover.  Heading out a ways in front of the port, they took positions on either side of the massive, damaged gates and readied their weapons.

        “Captain!” Nina called, a sudden seriousness to her voice, “Fucked ‘im good.  We’re in position.”

        While these events transpired, elsewhere Yuri had his hands full with Chris and Ahri.  He had managed to catch up to them before they could reach the Marzanna, and was now doing what he could to keep them from getting any closer.  They weren’t exactly difficult opponents, as the two of them combined gave him about as much trouble as Bale did alone, but it had been a good long while since Yuri had to deal with multiple enemies on a higher level than the usual rival pirate thugs or freighter escorts.  And seeing as he did want to break in his new Griffin, he figured toying with them a bit wouldn’t be completely out of line.  And so he did.

        “Ha!  Too slow!” Yuri shouted, ducking forward and spinning around to avoid Chris as he swung his Minotaur’s heat axe at the Griffin’s torso.  In that same motion, he produced one of his rifles and let fly with a quick burst of ammunition that sent Chris scrambling backwards.  Reflexively, Chris grabbed the handle of his suit’s cannon and fired off a couple rounds in Yuri’s direction, but both shots were easily evaded.  Slipping between the two shells, Yuri jumped upwards in time to avoid a salvo emanating from behind him, as Ahri emptied the last of her rifle’s clip futilely in the direction of his suit.

        “Hold still, you!” Ahri shouted, producing her suit’s knife and darting after Yuri.  From the corner of her eye, she could see Chris doing the same, the Minotaur’s axe drawn back over its left shoulder.  Both suit’s charged Yuri from below, his back to them, his suit nearly inert.  But right as they reached him and struck, he immediately wheeled around and sent an arm and a blade flying in a flash of green light.  With impressive speed, he had produced one of his suit’s beam sabers, easily lopping off one of Ahri’s arms and cutting Chris’ axe clean in half.  Ahri had no time to react before Yuri fluidly produced his rifle and leveled it at her point blank and fired.

        “Ahri!” Chris shouted, forcibly plowing into her suit and sending the disoriented girl reeling.  Several rounds raked across his Minotaur, tearing the right arm to tatters and perforating the torso.  It was only through a miracle that the cockpit wasn’t hit, but his suit was paralyzed.

        “Sh-shit,” he stammered.  The force of the bullets striking the suit had been enough to knock him around the cockpit, leaving him dazed.  Out of the right viewscreen, he could see Ahri trying to orient herself.  She was more rattled than he was, but physically okay.  Fine by him.  Just as long as she was out of harm’s way for the time being.  He then looked out of the front screen, and saw the dark red shadow hanging over him, a flashing green saber in one hand and a gun in the other.

        “Looks like I’m fucked,” he grinned nervously.  But as he sat back and unwillingly waited  for his inevitable demise, an unfamiliar voice crackled over the radio’s open broadcast channel.

        “<Yuri, get the fuck out of the way!>”

        Instantly the Griffin hanging over Chris jumped backwards, and a massive grey-red blur dove between them with enough force to send his limp Minotaur spinning.  He was just barely able to make out the enemy suit taking off after the blurred object as he tumbled helplessly in place, and was finally stopped with a rough jolt.

        “Come on, we have to get you out of here!”  It was Ahri.  She had grabbed hold of his suit with her remaining arm and was now pulling him slowly in the direction of the embattled Ranger.

        “But what was—”

        “He’s buying us some time to get away, now come on!” she insisted, tugging on the Minotaur's shoulder.  Still bewildered, Chris absently gave her a hand by hitting what verniers he could get working while trying to figure out just what the hell had happened.  He?  She did say ‘he,’ right?

        The blur that had dove in between Chris and Yuri rolled along for a distance until finally breaking into two and going in opposite directions.  In one direction went Sasha’s Gargoyle, knife in one hand and assault rifle in the other, a spent clip ejecting itself as he sheathed the knife and grabbed for another.  One of the knives concealed in his suit’s feet was deployed, and had been bent during some seemingly deflected attack.  In the other direction went Bale’s Griffin, another stab wound in its shoulder for its trouble and a dented rifle in its one remaining hand.  Luckily for Bale, it still worked despite the damage.

        “So tell me, pirate,” Bale panted, “just what does she have to do with you to get you all worked up like this?  It’s making you sloppy.”  Though it sounded like a simple taunt, Bale was deadly serious.  That Sasha seemingly knew Gabriella on some personal level irritated him to no end.

“Well?”

Sasha simply stayed silent, slapping another clip in his rifle as Yuri’s Griffin came to rest alongside him. 

“<You alright, kid?>” Yuri asked, placing his suit’s hand on the Gargoyle’s shoulder.

“<I’m fine.  This guys just pisses me off.>”

“<What did I tell you about fighting an opponent with your emotions?>” Yuri reprimanded him sternly.

“<’That it kills your concentration and it kills you,’>” Sasha recited the phrase flatly, like a child reciting their multiplication tables, at which point Yuri removed his hand from Sasha’s suit.

        “You!  Just what do you think you’re doing in that suit!?” Bale shouted at Yuri, the sight of Gabriella’s Griffin inflaming his temper.

        “Piloting it, I guess,” Yuri remarked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.  “By the way, it seems your wingmen are out of the fight.”  He motioned with his suit in the direction of Ahri as she towed Chris’ Griffin back to their ship.  “You might wanna consider retreating.”

        “You ass—” Bale was interrupted by a loud tone signifying a call from the Ranger.

        “Master Caulfield, abort mission and return immediately, completion of the assigned objectives is no longer possible,” Linder’s voice, as usual, was harsh and resolute.

        “But—”

        “That’s an order, Master Caulfield.”  The radio promptly cut out, leaving Bale to grumble bitterly to no one but himself.  Looking up, he glared fiercely at the ill-gotten Griffin and the Gargoyle with the suspicious pilot.

        “I will find out how you know her, and then I will kill you,” he said sorely, stowing his rifle and allowing his suit to drift backward a ways as he activated its main engines.

        “By the way,” came Sasha’s voice over the radio, “you asked what she has to do with me?  She has the entire world more to do with me than she ever would with a man like you.”  Bale started forward only briefly at that comment.  For a split-second, he was about to charge headlong at Sasha and force the meaning behind those words out of him right then and there.  But gathering his senses, he relented, and retreated for now, heading off in the direction of the Ranger.

        “What was that all about?” Yuri asked, confused from having heard the exchange.

        “Nothing at all,” Sasha said evasively, lowering his weapon.  Yuri decided against pursuing the matter further for the time being.

        “Yuri, Sasha,” Chesna’s voice crackled suddenly over the Marzanna’s encrypted signal.

        “What is it?” Yuri asked.

        “Get your asses back here.  We’re entering the colony, and we’re not going to be able to fire on the Perseus while we do so.  You guys need to cover us and make sure it’s held at bay.”

        “Gotcha.  Where’s Adrik?”

        “Already over here.  The units he was pursuing retreated.”

        “We’re on our way,” Yuri said, as the radio cut out.  He then turned to Sasha, “Well, shall we?”

        “Yeah.”  Reorienting their suits, the two made off quickly in the direction of the Marzanna.

        As the Marzanna approached the mangled port, its main beam turrets and secondary shell-firing cannons went silent, with only its tertiary flak turrets still popping off the occasional burst in the Ranger’s direction.  With the brittle state of the port, as well as the colony as a whole, it would be too risky to fire off such large weapons while trying to pass through the structure’s walls, for fear of having it collapse in around them and leaving them trapped.  Just having Nina and Johann accomplish their objectives alone would be risky enough, nevermind having to deal with stray turret fire.  Unfortunately, silencing the ship’s cannon’s even for a couple of moments would allow the Ranger a tremendous opening.  Risks on top of risks.  But it’s not like there were that many other options.

        “Slow the ship to half speed,” Chesna said in a calm, yet commanding voice.  Almost immediately the ship came to a crawl.

        “Nina, Johann, are you in position?”

        “We’re ready,” Nina said over a haze of static.

        “Yuri?  What about you guys?”

        “I don’t know how much good our rifles will be against a ship like that, but we’re all set here,” he answered reluctantly.

        “I’m not asking you to sink it, just hold it off.”

        “Gotcha.”

        A crewman chimed in suddenly, “Enemy ship has gained speed and is advancing!”

        Chesna smirked, “That’s your signal.  Now go!”  At her command, Yuri, Sasha, and Adrik broke off in a tight triangular formation for the Ranger, all three opening up with a simultaneous barrage of gunfire and then splitting into three directions once the ship’s forward cannons turned on them.

        “Nina!  Johann!  Get to it!” Chesna barked.  Training the bazookas on the massive, worn gates, the two Gargoyle pilots let fly with round after round.  The kick of two bazookas at once forced them to pause on occasion and reposition themselves, but beyond that minor inconvenience their onslaught against the gate was unceasing.  After a dozen combined shells, the first gate had given way.

        “Sasha!  Watch your ass!” Adrik shouted between strafing the Ranger’s port side.  Reacting quickly, Sasha just barely avoided being clipped by one of the ship’s main beam turrets.  Ducking low and spinning around he raised his rifle and emptied half a clip into the offending beam weapon at the joint where the turret body and cannon barrels met.  He didn’t destroy it, but a small explosion from one side left one barrel inactive, prompting the entire thing to go silent for fear of further malfunction.

        “Almost there!” Nina shouted, dropping one bazooka and slapping a fresh clip into the other.  Johann followed suit as she raised the one weapon and fired three more rounds at the gate’s outer frame.  With a sudden shudder, the towering door broke loose from its track and drifted inward into the port.

        “Second gate destroyed!” Nina said triumphantly.

        “One more to go,” Johann added.  Scooping up his discarded second bazooka, he dove deeper into the gaping mouth of the port, Nina following behind.

        “Yuri, how’s it coming on your end?” Chesna asked as she watched the progress being made on the gates.

        “Almost tapped for ammo, but we’re managing,” came his reply.  Ducking and weaving in between anti-mobile suit cannons and a few shots from the main starboard turret, Yuri had actually managed to pull up alongside the Ranger’s bridge.  He smirked as he raised his rifle and trained it on the windows wrapping around the front and sides of the bridge’s tower.

        “<Gotcha!>” Yuri shouted and fired several rounds directly into the bridge.  Glass from the windows shattered, and at first it looked like he had actually succeeded.  But once he ceased firing, he cursed at what he saw.

        “Fuck, it’s reinforced!” ducking back to avoid the Ranger’s defensive guns, he caught a glimpse of reinforced metal shutters lining the bridge, dented, but not breached by his attack.  Defensive fire growing too thick, he was forced to reluctantly fall back before he could try for a second round.

        “Yuri, I’m out,” Sasha said, discarding an empty clip and motioning that he had no more on him.

        “Yeah, me too!” Adrik shouted, ducking out of the way of a cannon shell as he spoke.

        “I’ve only got a couple rounds,” Yuri replied, checking his own rifle.  “Chesna, how much longer?”

        “This last gate won’t budge,” Chesna said urgently, “Nina and Johann emptied everything they had and it only dented.”  The Marzanna had already slowly crept past the first two gates, and was now halfway in.  But ahead of it was a third and final gate, roughly as tall as the ship with doors twice as thick as the previous two.

        “We’re going to have to return, we can’t do any more he—<shit!>” a sudden flash erupted by Yuri’s suit, frying the shoulder armor even as he ducked out of the way.  Looking up, he saw that he had gotten in the way of the Ranger’s main starboard turret.  However, he was not the target.  As he watched, the three streams of beam energy that passed by him raked along the colony wall, just above the Marzanna.  The entire port shuddered, and debris battered the Marzanna’s hull.  Again the turret roared and again its beams hit the colony.  The Ranger had chosen to ignore the attacking mobile suits, and was once again advancing on the Marzanna.

        “Christ!” Chesna braced herself on a guardrail in front of the bridge’s forward window as a third shot struck the colony.  “Yuri, get everyone back here!  Forward turrets, take aim at that door and fire at will!”

        “What!?  Chesna—” Yuri began to protest.

        “It’s reckless, I know, but we’re out of options!”

        Yuri started, but caught himself, “Alright, we’re heading back.”

        “How far away is that ship?” Chesna asked.

        “Fewer than 900 meters and closing!” a crewman replied.

        “Goddammit, hurry up and fire!”  Ahead of her, the two large turrets that ran along the top of the Marzanna’s bow aimed forward, barrels twitching as they trained on the doors.  With a flash, both turrets fired at once, obliterating the door and rocking the chip violently.  Chesna was thrown forward, grasping again at the rail to keep from being sprawled on the floor as the ship crashed hard against the left side of the port.  Debris scattered in all directions and even inside the ship, loose items were strewn about.  Nearly everyone was at least momentarily stunned.  In the infirmary, Miki was sprawled almost comically over Gabriella, weighing the girl down with her body to keep her from flying off the bed while precariously balancing the monitors around her with her hands and feet.  Boris and the hangar maintenance crew also had it rough, trying to reinforce the hangar door to keep it from denting inward and—worse—breaching from the impact.

        “Nn,” Chesna groaned, getting to her feet slowly, “I’m assuming we’re clear?”

        “Yes captain.”

        “Damage?”

        “Preliminary reports suggest Turret #1 has gone out of commission and a minor hull breach on the port side near the hangar.”

        Chesna sighed, “But we can move, right?  Get it inside, quickly.  Where are Yuri and the others?”

        “We’re clear,” Yuri’s voice crackled over the radio.  Looking out of the bridge’s starboard windows, Chesna caught sight of his Griffin and a pair of Gargoyles slipping past the Marzanna and into the colony.  “Hurry up, the Perseus is right on top of us.” Yuri added after a pause.

        “Alright, pulls us inside and get us clear,” Chesna commanded, wincing as she placed her hand on her lower back.  Just as she commanded, the Marzanna slowly eased past the shattered gate and into the black expanse of the colony’s interior, a set of floodlights on the ship's body sparking to life to illuminate their path.   All around them, the bridge crew could make out shapes of what used to be docking terminals for passenger shuttles and broken windows looking into what was once a bustling airport.  Up ahead, there was blackness, no terminals, no building, no nothing.  To Chesna, this was a good sign; having black up ahead meant the Marzanna's lights weren't bouncing off a back wall.  As she'd suspected, the entire port had been destroyed from the inside out from a bomber or a missile making its way inside, and this gave them a straight shot to the colony's interior.

        “Captain, the Perseus is still trying to approach,” a crewman spoke up as the ship slipped past the port remains.

        “Don’t worry, a ship that size could never fit through that gate.  Just keep us going slow and steady.”

        “They might try to target us through the opening, though,” Yuri added over the radio.

        Chesna paused for a second, “Once we’re at a good enough distance, fire off two rounds with the rear turrets at the surrounding debris.  That should obstruct the opening enough, then bring the ship to a stop well away from any potential line of fire, just to be safe.”

        “Ma'am,” a crewman nodded in compliance.  After a few moments of its perilous, creeping journey through the shattered and burnt out space port, the Marzanna's rear cannon turret let loose with two rounds in the direction of the opening they'd broken through.  The explosion as the beams made contact with the former gate scattered support beams and guidance mechanisms, creating a hailstorm of  debris that impeded the way and battered the Ranger's bow with a hailstorm of metal, glass, and plastics.  The ship came to an immediate stop.

        “Full reverse!” Linder shouted in alarm, “Full reverse!  Do not get us trapped in that!”  The massive Perseus shuddered and began to pull backwards, barely avoiding a massive, crooked metal alloy beam as it came spiraling downwards along the port's opening and barely slid past the Ranger's closed hangar doors.  The ship was lucky to avoid serious damage.

        “Damn them,” Linder cursed.  Looking out at the sealed off port through cameras mounted on the bridge tower, he could see that there was no way to get through to the Marzanna now.  Its crew had cleverly sealed themselves inside, and now Linder had no choice but to wait for the Sentinel backup to arrive.  He had failed.  Miserably.

-------- 

        All around the Marzanna, there was blackness and silence.  The ship was minuscule against the massive expanse of Prague Colony's interior, a mere blot within the hollowed cylinder's dozens of square miles of internal space.  And it wasn't the only one.  The relatively decent appearance of the colony's exterior did not accurately reflect what had happened inside, as what little light shone through from the gaping hole on its far side revealed a fog of ghastly debris that sat at rest all around the ship.  Parts of shops, houses, schools, the tattered remains of automobiles, post boxes, trees, beams from the colony's frame, the crystallized shards of ice from what used to be artificial lakes and streams, and most distressing of all, the frozen corpses of many of the colony's former residents all littered the massive metal alloy shell.  It was like a graveyard, only with the graves turned inside-out.

        Within the ship, it was a time for rest.  The threat posed by the Ranger had been put down for now, with the frustrated Perseus safely outside and incapable of reaching them.  Taking advantage of the moment, the crew—the entire crew, and not merely the half not on shift—turned in for some much-needed sleep and recovery.  Or nearly the entire crew, at least.  As the others slept, there remained a pair yet stirring in the captain's quarters.  One sat at her desk, a glass half filled with rum in one hand, head reclined over the back of her chair.  The other leaned against the wall opposite her, next to the cabinet where the rum had come from.  In his hand was another glass, also half filled.

        “Long day,” Yuri said, swirling the alcohol around in the glass before taking a sip.

        “They'll get longer,” Chesna answered, staring up at the ceiling.  “If what Boris says is correct, we don't have the equipment to fix that turret, and you guys are down to maybe one clip of ammunition apiece.  If we run into any more trouble between here and Mediterranea we're fucked.”

        “We could always duck into some port in EDEN-05 and pawn off that Gundam, use the money to get ourselves rearmed, and blow off this entire thing.  Hell, we might be able to make enough off of that to afford a decent meal for once,” Yuri said.

        “You think anyone anywhere in the colonies can cough up that kind of price?” Chesna's head rolled over to one side to look at him as she spoke.

        Yuri shrugged, “They might.”

        “And pigs might fly,” she remarked tiredly.  Picking her head up from the back of the chair, she raised her glass to her lips and downed half of its contents in one gulp.

        “Easy there,” Yuri said with a grin.

        “Who cares?  I'm not on duty.”

        “Fair enough.”  He looked down at his own drink, “So what, do we cross our fingers and pray we make this shady little trip safely?  And that this Saviour woman holds up her end?”

        “She'll hold up her end.  I'll kick her fucking ass myself if she doesn't,” Chesna sneered, a bit of a slur to her voice.  They'd been drinking for a while now.  Herself moreso, as usual.  Yuri simply laughed to himself and took a sip.  The two went quiet for a moment.

        “Still, can you believe it?” Chesna finally spoke up.  “Seems Lucien's still with us.”

        “In spirit, anyway,” the corner of Yuri's mouth twitched in a momentary grin, “Never thought I'd see a Project Midgard suit again in my life.  A Gundam, at that.”

        Chesna nodded, “Last time we saw one of those was the war.”  As she spoke, the look in her eyes softened, and she seemed to stare off at something far away.  A Gundam from the war.  That brought back memories.

        “You still feel bad about him, don't you?” Yuri asked, snapping her back to reality.  Quickly, she looked up at him, though her expression was one more of shock that he'd guessed it than actual offense.  She then sighed and nodded briefly.

        “Sorry,” Yuri said softly.

        “No.  No, don't worry about it,” Chesna shook her had and again reclined it back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling again.

        “Y'know, you're not going to like me for saying it, but I think you really showed off some of your old self out there,” Yuri spoke up, changing the subject.

        “Oh please.”

        “Chesna, stop.  You may think you're some pathetic fraud, but I and everyone else recognized that confidence in your voice.”  There was an awkward pause as the two looked each other in the eyes intently.

        “Whether you believe it or not, there's still something of the Baroness in you.”

        “Yuri—”

        “Chesna,” he was quick to cut her off.  “You can protest all you want, but if it weren't for you we'd never have made it this far.  And not just tonight, but ever since the war ended.”  Chesna tried to mount a comeback, but Yuri's gaze held her fast.  It had a habit of doing that.

        “I just wish you'd realize it already and stop this self-loathing bit,” he diverted his gaze at last and tilted his head back, finishing off the contents of his glass.  Turning to the cabinet where the alcohol was stored, he opened it and reached for the bottle of rum stored on the top shelf.  As he did so, something else caught his eye on the shelf below it.  It was a saber, the scabbard and hilt very ornately decorated in blackened ivory entwined in gold bands.  It rested in a small, custom-made case also made of gold-lined black ivory, and lined all around with red silk.  In one corner of the case were etched two insignias, one of which was quite clearly a military coat of arms, while the other was an impressively intricate seal all its own.  A family seal, the Mazenov's specifically.  The entire thing was coated in a fairly prominent layer of dust, and Yuri shook his head at the sight of it.  He knew the saber well.

        “You have no idea how appreciative the others would be if they could see you wearing this again,” he said, still staring at it absently.

        “Please just drop it for now,” Chesna said, waving him off with her free hand.  Yuri simply sighed and shrugged, reaching for the bottle of rum and pouring himself another glass.  He replaced the bottle, sipped at the new contents of the glass, and again the two went silent.

        “So what about you-know-who?” Yuri broke the lengthy silence.

        “Gabriella?” Chesna shook her head and exhaled slowly, “I don't know.”

        “I was hoping you would,” Yuri swirled the glass around in his hand, “because I'm drawing a blank.”

        “We really don't have any solutions open to us,” Chesna said with a yawn, leaning forward in her chair and arching her back, stretching.  She then turned to face Yuri.

        “None that don't involve Sasha never speaking to us again, at any rate,” she added.  Downing what remained of her drink, she slowly rose to her feet, grabbing her glass and striding across the small distance between her desk and the cupboard.  Yuri stepped to one side as she reached in and produced a small rag, wiping the glass of any residual alcohol before placing both the rag and the glass back inside.

        “I suppose,” Yuri mused, “the only real solution open to us is to just play it by ear and see what happens.”

        “Pretty much,” Chesna said blankly.  Stepping away from the cupboard, she tugged at her coat and let it slide slowly off her shoulders, then down her arms, and then caught it in her hands just as it started to crumple to the floor.  Scooping it up in both arms in a bundle, she laid it down in her chair and began to fumble with the topmost buttons on her blouse.

        “I suppose that's my cue to leave?” Yuri said jokingly.  Chesna simply looked at him, directly in his eyes and with all seriousness.

        “You could always stay here,” a small, sad smile played on her face.  No matter how many times Yuri had seen it, that face always caught him off guard.  It was a difficult one to turn down, and it always amazed him how he'd been able to resist it as well as he did.

        “Sorry,” he whispered shaking his head slowly.  He finished off his drink quickly and replaced his glass inside the cupboard, closing it and walking over to where Chesna stood.  Neither one said a word, simply looked at each other for what seemed like a long time.  Yuri's hand came to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, which eventually turned into a mutual embrace.  They held each other like that, and then broke away slowly, reluctantly, the back of Yuri's fingers gliding lightly over Chesna's temple as he pulled back.

        “Good night,” he said quietly, almost mirroring her sad little smile.

        Chesna nodded, “Sleep well.”  And with that, Yuri slipped out of her quarters, and the two parted ways for the night.

        Elsewhere on the ship, one more person was still awake.  It was Sasha, who had been unable to sleep comfortably, and had tossed and turned for an hour or more before deciding to give up on the endeavor for the time being.  He now wandered the halls of the ship in the shorts and raggedy t-shirt he typically wore to bed, aimlessly at first as he usually did, but before long unconsciously meandering closer and closer to the ship's infirmary.  Finally, he came to a stop at the door to that very room.  It had been shut when Miki went to bed, but like just about every other door on the ship, had not been locked.  He stood there, hesitating at first.  Drawing a deep breath, he cautiously tugged at the handle and pushed the door ajar.  It slid open with no more than a light, momentary squeak, and he stepped noiselessly inside.

        In the infirmary, only the auxiliary lights remained on, giving the room a dull, pale yellow glow, almost like candlelight.  Dotting the nearly blackened scenery were several bright flickers of green and red, and the pale blue light of the EKG as it bounced across the screen, beeping with steady rhythm.  Under the collective of green and red monitors, Gabriella remained silent and motionless in her bed.  Despite the violent turbulence of the battle earlier in the evening, she appeared completely undisturbed, only a couple locks of hair appearing out of place.  Her face was serene, as if she were merely sleeping, completely unharmed.  Sasha couldn’t deny it for an instant; she was absolutely beautiful.

        Pulling up a chair alongside her bed, he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, placing his chin on the backs of his hands, which now clasped together through interlocked fingers.  As he had done earlier, he watched over her pensively.  It still felt unreal, having her suddenly reappear like this, alive and—for the most part—seemingly well.  And the way in which she appeared, as an Imperial mobile suit pilot of at least enough ability to be awarded a newer model.  Not that he doubted her abilities, as she was always the loud and boisterous tomboy as a child.  But to see that energy channeled towards serving the Empire?  Why?  It was inconceivable, but yet there she was, in the cockpit of a goddamned Griffin!  Trying to kill him!  And what about what that other Griffin pilot had said?  He was her lover?  Was she actually in love with a hot-tempered bastard like that?

        Sasha shook his head and yawned.  He tried to clear his head before the questions overwhelmed him.  Everything had to have a logical explanation, and he’d simply have to wait until she was awake and alert enough to discuss them.  But still, even as he tried to put the confusing and distressing points of the whole affair aside for the time being, he just couldn’t completely discard them.  On some level, no matter how hard he tried to preoccupy his mind elsewhere, they lingered.  And it was starting to piss him off as much as it fretted and worried him.

        After watching over her for several moments, Sasha collected his thoughts as best he could and rose to his feet.  The doubts were getting to be a bit much, and a change of scenery was in order.  As was another attempt at sleep.  He figured he’d swing by the ship’s mess hall, or perhaps the bar that had been fashioned out of an old auxiliary barrack, and grab something to drink with enough power to help knock him out, then try to crawl back in bed and manage what he could.  He wasn’t much for cutting corners or slacking off, but he figured he could allow himself to sleep in just this once if he had to.  Before leaving though, he stepped over to the tray next to the head of Gabriella’s bed and reached into his pocket, producing something from it.  With a pause to glance at it briefly, he set it on the tray—which in a way acted more like someone’s nightstand—and turned to walk out.  It was the childhood photograph of the two of them that Gabriella had been carrying.  Sasha had forgotten to return it earlier.  But something was different about it now; before bringing it back, Sasha had very carefully taken the time to scrape off whatever caked up dried blood remained.  There was still a yellowing stain where it used to be, but now both children’s smiling faces could be seen clearly.  Stopping at the doorframe, Sasha took one last quick look back at Gabriella, and with a small sigh quietly stepped out and closed the door behind him.