2023-06-14: Insurrection
- Log: Insurrection
- Cast: Roux Louka, Angelo Sauper, Eight York, Banagher Links, Suberoa Zinnerman, Rena Lancaster, Marida Cruz, Anita Rosetta, Mineva Lao Zabi, Trevor Teach, Alto Saotome, Liam 7-020, Lucine Azul, Full Frontal
- Where: Ra Mari II
- OOC - IC Date: 0097-06-23
- Summary: Though Banagher, Mineva, and the Unicorn have been saved from the Vist Foundation, all is not well aboard the Ra Mari II. Previously quiet anti-Sleeves voices have grown louder with Captain York's maternity leave. As tensions boil over, the alliance between the two spacenoid factions will be tested -- and everyone present will finally have to pick a side.
<Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
The part about space travel that they never really tell you is the long parts where nothing happens. Were she younger, Roux Louka might have gotten into trouble, well meaning or ill; now, however, she just wishes she'd loaded up her book pad with more materials. Reclining in one of the lounges and wishing that this ship had less gravity, Roux was re-reading the fourth book in a series about an elegant space heroine who had absolute buckets of tense, fraught Relations with a range of gorgeous people across Orbital high society.
"Hello, Miss Louka," someone said to her. Someone younger.
Roux glanced upwards over the top of her book's screen. "Not many people call me that," Roux answered; it sounded far more cool and mysterious than it would be, as Roux searched for the young man's name. Asteria? No, Stelina, no, ASTELIAN. Tempo Astelian.
"What should I call you?" Tempo replied.
"Roux is fine," Roux said, tilting her head a little in a way that would have made her hair drift just *so* -- but on a Zentraedi-built ship, it didn't. "How can I help you, Mr. Astelian?"
"Oh, Tempo is fine," he replied. Roux smiled. (Thank god, Roux thought as she dimmed her book's screen without looking at the page she had been reading.)
"You may have noticed that..."
The boredom left Roux, and was replaced with something else.
=-=-=-=-=-=
"So... seven guns," Roux muses. "Eight if you count mine."
The inventory was being taken in Roux's quarters. Most of the weapons weren't there.
"That's going to make it pretty hard to actually pull anything," Roux says, "especially since you said five of them are locked up, you guys just know where they are?"
Roux sucks on her teeth.
"I guess there's no way around it."
"Knives?" Tempo asked.
"Yeah," Roux says. "But I know some techniques."
-=-=-=-=-
They did not, of course, actually practice with the knives.
Even if the knives themselves were not glamorous things, mostly the smaller chef's knifes from the kitchen given a different grip in the hobbyist lathe, there was no way to hide what happens in a knife fight. Those same busy hands made replicas for the practicing. Ways to make it so that a failed maneuver didn't put blood spouting out in a great red blob.
And perhaps it wouldn't be necessary. Tempo had underestimated the armament of the ship. Was it a little miscellaneous? Definitely. (Roux's own gun, a customized colony police special with semi-vectored smart rounds, was a good example.) The Ra Mari II itself was a little miscellaneous. Tempo had not kept a spreadsheet, but the current count was thirty-nine pistols and "pistols equivalent" (Roux was a little doubtful about that) and six fully automatic rifles. It would have grown faster, but the MP armory was, perhaps not surprisingly, somewhere near where the Sleeves liked to hang out.
They weren't fools, after all.
The conspiracy itself was organized in a zero-gravity gymnasium space, one exempted from the Zentraedi gravity plating and with only two monitor cameras, one of which broke two days into the conspiracy and the other of which had a piece of gum inserted into its track sweep. Low priority spaces, out in the parts of the habitation deck which had not been fully enclosed and developed. The perfect place to lay low.
And to train.
The room held the smell of sweat, though the sounds of exercise in micro-gravity were quite different from the squeaks and thumps of traditional exercise. Roux briefly inventoried the weapons they had brought there. Two examples of the automatics and five pistols, of two different models. While everyone had practiced chasing each other around and trying to get in stabs (or, perhaps, explode them) Roux had been reviewing each weapon, making absolutely sure that there was no round in the chamber of any of them, securing the guard plug, and reviewing the sights. They had set up targets on folded-up mats on the far end of the gym, and this was going to be the night everyone zeroed in the weapons. Final distribution would come when things came to the true pinch.
For now, though, the greater risk was shooting someone. A single accidental discharge and they'd all be screwed. Or worse; They'd have to watch someone die and space the body. (Roux suspected there had been several already.)
Roux paused to turn her head and count the magazines attached to the magnetic strip floating freely near where she was making a work place, a subtle archipelago in micro gravity. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five, and two for good luck; one clip for four people, and they had four rifle clips; three, six, nine, twelve and one to grow on, they had twenty-one pistol reloads - "We'll have to get the rest of that out before we move," Roux mused, wishing they had all the ammunition in the world.
The baker's dozen of crew came round, sweating. Roux looked up at them and smiled.
"Alright," she says, "who here's shot a gun?" Roux held up the automatic rifle with both hands, the shoulder strap floating languidly.
"Nobody? Just you, Beth?--"
The sensation hit Roux late, crawling up her back. She turned her head slowly, the unloaded rifle held upside down in her hands.
There were four Sleeves in the entryway, and three of them had guns. Their guns were not unloaded and safety plugged; small black voids, perilously tiny.
The Sleeves, of course, were not deterred by microgravity. They were likely more agile in it than Roux, who had grown up in a colony and spent most of her flight time in the luxurious partial gravity of Jovian fleet acceleration.
More came in; two more, though Roux, watching with a suddenly crystalline eye, saw they didn't seem to be armed.
The one in the lead, who Roux hadn't seen before (but how many of them had she really looked at?) said: "And what is THIS? What am I to make of THIS?" (Roux saw one of the others smirk.)
"Are you holding an exercise class, maybe some rhythmic gymnastics? Maybe these are air shooters you're using, paintball weaponry perhaps? What sort of fools do you think we are?" he said, leveling the gun. "Surrender the weapon."
Roux stared for a second - thoughts flicked in her head. Reach out for the clip...
They open fire.
Reach for her own pistol...
They open fire.
None of them were armed, and her safety measures were suddenly, terribly wrong. It was a cold and clammy sensation, but Roux let the gun go, reaching up to bump the base of the stock more or less towards the Sleeve gunsel.
Roux did as she turned. She let her hand slide down, towards the sash at her waist. The one with the hidden synth-silk holster, where the smartgun was tucked on the outside of her thigh, the fashion-forwards accessory concealing--
"Yours, too."
Concealing nothing. Roux heard Tempo gasp. It was a bitter feeling.
"Alright," Roux said: "I'm going to untie it and let it drift over. Lower your guns."
"We'll lower our weapons when we are good and ready," continued the Sleeve: "None of us have any intention of being stabbed in the back by you Earthnoid--"
"I know you!" came a blurt from behind the Zeke officer -- Sleeves, whatever, but to Roux, now, he'd all but put on a helmet and said Sieg Zeon. The man swerved outwards and stared Roux in the eye and she stared back at him and --
She could see it. She remembered it. That faint sour smell in the air of Shangrila. The sullen breeze over the graveyard. The sound of that distant ringing bell --
"You're that harpy that seduced the Captain!" the man shouted. Roux couldn't remember his name. She stared in mute horror as he shouted something she didn't quite take onboard -- something heartfelt; something about how she'd stomped on his heart, and she had, hadn't she? Whatever might have been in that heart -- and then he was coming at her.
Floating there, without anything to hang onto, frozen and regarding the others, Roux could not move much. The best she could do was fold backwards, pulling her ass back and letting the rest of her body go with it, a faint echo of AMBAC. It meant the fist coming right at her face grazed a hot line of impact on her left cheek bone and jerked her backwards, even if she didn't give him the satisfaction of a cry; her body rolled backwards. Momentum. If she hit a wall --
They were laughing. Laughing!
'Come on,' said the one in front. 'Don't give the AEUG what she's trying to get. Get in formation, all of you --'
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
How can such a large ship feel so stifling?
It's the thought that has always been on Angelo Sauper's mind since he first arrived here -- and it's a feeling that has only redoubled in the times he has been in charge of Sleeves forces stationed here in Full Frontal's absence. Stifling. The ship, the people. Even the chair he sits in, in the dark of his office, feels like an uncomfortable fit, pushing against his rigid spine as he stares with hooded contemplation at the cut rose nestled in the vase before him.
What would you do? If you were the Unicorn's pilot...
One day you'll have to tell me what you think change under him looks like.
I can't go around saying that understanding means anything and fail to pursue it, now can I?
Violet eyes narrow. Lips twist.
Fingers curl toward a clench as the door leading into that sequestered space of the Ra Mari II hiss open.
"Lieutenant -- it's just like you said. We've secured the dissidents. What should we...?"
Just like that, Angelo settles back into a comfortably cold neutrality. Just like that, the confines of this ship don't feel so confining anymore.
"We're going to the bridge. Arm up. I'll be there shortly."
Just like that, this ship just feels like -any other ship-.
"Tt. 'Understanding.' What a sick joke."
---
"Captain York!"
The doors of the Ra Mari II's bridge hiss open as Eight York's rank and name are announced with all of an accusation's sharp sting. Angelo Sauper floats in with the firmest push of his foot against the floor, followed shortly by two others -- Cuaron Masuka and Bato Paserinos, members of the Sleeves' royal guard.
None of them are holding weapons, at the moment. And yet the tension they bring with them is palpable.
"I've discovered what your understanding amounts to."
Angelo Sauper's words come as he brings himself to a carefully controlled stop near the captain's chair. The other two, however, continue onward towards one of the bridge's nav consoles, forcing their way to it if they must to commandeer it --
And bring up footage of Roux Louka and the people she was training, surrounded by several, gun-bearing soldiers of the Sleeves.
"Members of the Ra Mari's crew have been actively arming and training themselves in combat under tutelage of Roux Louka, a -known- instigator. Training against boarded enemies. Against -us-. Like they -always do-. Like you ALWAYS do." Violet eyes narrow. Lips draw into a tense, neutral line.
"I'm -generous- enough to assume they represent some misguided souls acting on their own. But that means they are -traitors-, defying their captain's orders." Angelo's right arm snaps out with a wide gesture, his hand like the sweep of an executioner's knife. His left stays purposefully close to his side, pressed against his hip.
Close to where his gun remains holstered.
"We are well within our rights to deal with this breach of our arrangement - and obvious THREAT to our continued safety here - ourselves, but they are -your- people, and this mess is -your- responsibility to clean up. Deal with them. -Appropriately-."
He can't help but feel some sort of relief intermingle with his anger.
"Deal with them. Or we will. And we will take it as a sign our joint front has broken down."
As if every suspicion he ever harbored was about to be vindicated in a single moment.
"It's time for you to make the right choice with your time, Captain."
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
The bridge of the Ra Mari II stretches outward; it's a square thing in the midst of a much broader chamber, the compromise that allows miclones to run such a huge ship. Consoles run along the sides and in the center, the main screen currently showing nothing but the stars and colony ahead.
Eight York sits on her bridge, speaking with a junior officer. Not all of the faces manning it are the same as usual; Gidon Kall and Licia Chovan are there, as is Itsuki Kazama, but Enba Rezza and Tempo Astelian are missing.
Well, Tempo's not missing. They know where he is.
The gravity at the moment in this section of the ship is light, thanks to some repairs undergone on the modules. ...This makes, if anything, the arrival of the Royal Guard floating in to feel that much more ominous. The call comes--
Captain York turns her head towards the entrance and frowns. Her 'understanding', he says, and the Captain in her chair keeps her eyes locked on him.
"Hey!" Kall coplains, "You can't just--" But the nav console is open, the crewman at it too shocked to put up much of a fight as he's shoved out of the way. York raises a hand to Kall, eyeing the footage.
Her frown turns into a scowl as she sees the footage, but one could be forgiven for being unsure whether it's the actions of her crew--or seeing them at gunpoint. It's hard to say, in the moment.
There is much she could say against Angelo's explanation. But she doesn't. She makes no defense while he's still talking. Only once he finishes does she seem to consider saying anything, and her expression is still in a deep-set, thoughtful frown.
It's come to this, then.
"It's true that matters have been tense for some time," she says, attention fully on Angelo, "Especially after the matters at Metis, where one of your agents, having gone rogue, helped to destroy the colony. I cannot deny that. Nor can I deny that arming specifically against you is a breach of our agreement even so."
She'd said she wanted understanding. That there was a common ground to be had. But she can't stand and make a speech while he's got his gun ready to draw. She judges there's only so long patience can go, and trying to draw things out is a fool's errand. So--
"Bastard," Licia Chovan, formerly of Neo Zeon, says, as she rises from her own console. "You think you can threaten us?"
"The Captain has it," Itsuki says, resting a hand near Chovan's shoulder. "...Tch," Chovan says, but she trusts Eight.
"I've worked hard to make this peace happen," Eight continues. "To show that we can come together with spacenoid factions. So..."
This, she can draw out, just a little. As she stares at Angelo.
"You're right. It is time I make the right choice with my time." That hangs in the air.
"Get off my ship, Mr. Sauper. And take your people with you. There's no 'understanding' to be had with Full Frontal."
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Surrounded by Haro parts, Banagher floats just above a chair in his quarters. If he's going to make a friend for the kids, he's going to do it right. This is going to be the sweetest, most friendly Haro anyone has ever seen. It won't take too much longer. Maybe he can even have it finished tonight--
--or he could have, if gunfire didn't ring out in the hallway. Banagher jolts up, dropping his tools. His own Haro makes an alarmed sound, flapping his winglets in distress.
"Haro, stay here! I'll find out what's going on!" Banagher instructs, then propels himself into the hallway.
It seems communications from the bridge have broken down. Smoke bombs fly, gunfire echoes both nearby and distant. Banagher closes the door to his quarters behind him and locks it. Whatever this is, whatever's happening -- he's got to find Audrey.
Before he can head toward her room, a skirmish breaks out just before him, men in Sleeves uniforms grappling for weapons against some of the Ra Mari II crew. Banagher watches with wide eyes. If the fighting has reached even the crew's quarters, it must've spread through the entire ship.
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
Dissatisfaction with the Sleeves presence on the Ra Mari II has not gone unnoticed by the Garencieres team - 3SA crew falling silent as they pass in the corridors. Watchful eyes when one of their number strays into a critical zone like the hangar's maintenance area. Muttered whispers where they think they can't be overheard. To a specialised guerilla intelligence team, these collated minor incidents are more valuable than gold dust... and yet Zinnerman has done nothing about them.
"If we act too soon we'll draw attention to the rift. We need to bide our time."
"Okay, but, when we do act, Suberoa," Flaste Schole points out, "What do we do? Stick with Full Frontal and chase down this box none of us give a damn about?"
The Captain is silent - and Flaste takes it for the sign of indecision it is. "Better make up your mind before the shit hits the fan, Captain. You know we'll follow you into hell and back: Just make sure we're goin' there for the right reasons."
====== ======
Lieutenant Sauper running an actual investigation caught them all by surprise, not just the small group of Ra Mari II officers caught in the act - even expecting this to boil over, Zinnerman is caught flat-footed by Full Frontal's second-in-command's diligence.
Fortunately, his team is already where they need to be when the fighting starts: Doing their jobs.
Gilboa is aboard the Garencieres Jr. docked to the Ra Mari II; he seals the airlock bulkhead, making sure Kwani, Ivan and Alec are safely aboard.
Tomura is down in the Zentradi Monitor's hangar when the fighting starts; he immediately gets to work securing the Geara Zulu squadron the team utilise in combat missions.
Flaste is with the Captain as they start to make their way down to the hangar.
<Pose Tracker> Rena Lancaster has posed.
Rena Lancaster is a Coordinator. She has seen the numbers; stronger than the average human, faster than the average human, and generally with all the advantages. She has excellent reflexes; excellent vision; excellent hand-eye coordination. She also had military training.
And she has a sidearm.
Gunfire rings out in the hallway. Rena looks up from the desk in her room with Anita. "What in the--" She mutters, softly. "...We better get to the bridge, Annie."
She slides her keycard in front of the door -- it deactivates, then, she manually slides it open a crack. She slips out, then puts her back against the wall. She looks down the hallway -- spotting Sleeves soldiers -- and then she starts moving.
Her sidearm is drawn, as she does. She narrows her eyes, before she starts to hurry. She lifts her communicator up, and speaks in a hushed voice: "I want the flight crews in the hangar in normal suits or in their Mobile Suits."
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
The hospitality of the Three Ships Alliance would have only ever lasted so long. It was no matter to Marida, they had their new ship and would have been ready to leave, but it looked like they weren't getting out without a fight. Perhaps if Lieutenant Sauper had not agitated the situation, it wouldn't have come to this. But that's not what Lieutenant Sauper does.
Marida is walking not too far behind Flaste and Zinnerman on the way to the hangar. She needed to get the Kshatriya out before any foul play occurred from the Ra Mari crew. Her sidearm, usually kept concealed, is openly in her hand. An extension of her hand.
Banagher and the Princess must be in the crew quarters. Her mind momentarily goes to Banagher and Mineva. Banagher was never officially a part of the Sleeves, so he was probably going to be good off, but Mineva...the princess of Zeon...would be too valuable for them to leave alone.
<Pose Tracker> Anita Rosetta has posed.
At the time, Anita was reclining. This sentence applies to most days, as reclining happens to be one of her favorite activities when she's not actively on duty. Today is notable, however, as her reclining is put on hold -
by the sound of gunfire.
Anita sits up quickly, instinctively looking toward Rena to check up on her. After a moment, she nods.
"...Yeah, I'm thinking you're right." She agrees, and stands up. She follows Rena out the door - but as she does, she grabs a screwdriver from her workbench. Anita rolls up the sleeve of her uniform, popping open a panel in her left arm and making a few adjustments. She lets out a slow hiss as her modifications take hold - and then the panel is closed and Anita rolls her shoulder, flexing her fingers experimentally.
Rena, most familiar with Anita and the way she moves as well as a Coordinator, will recognize that the weight with which Anita has moved has increased considerably.
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Managing the Garuda is proving to be a challenge in ways Mineva hadn't expected. Things are going smoothly, relatively speaking, but some of the more complex aspects of the logistics have required her to make arrangements in person, on board the Alliance's flagship.
It's important to keep a cool head, though--so she sits in her quarters, meditating before things next need her attention.
Tension, aggression, and anger pierce through the wall she's attempting to put up. At first, she doesn't pay it any mind; fights are bound to happen aboard a ship like this. But as she attempts to shut it out, it simply grows. Persists. A flash in her mind, a chill down her spine...
Danger.
It doesn't take her long to track down a crew member who can tell her what's happening. She decides, then... she may not be a Sleeve anymore, but surely she can do something. She's still a princess, after all.
<Pose Tracker> Trevor Teach has posed.
Hearing loud BOOMS is not necessarily an uncommon thing on certain starships. Like, when you're living in a jury-rigged scrapbucket that'd be perpetually half a second away from falling catastrophically to pieces if it were not for the grace of space god and the holy trinity that is the greatest of their blessings that had been rendered unto scrapyard engineers everywhere (extra tacky bubblegum, deluxe aluminum foil rolls and duct tape), it's just to be expected. Sometimes Ships Go Bang.
But not this ship. The Ra Mari II has been remarkably stable in all the time that Trevor Teach has slummed it aboard. It would almost certainly have what amounts to a sterling reputation, had it belonged to a slightly less well-off (and more scoundrelish) bunch of spacefarers. When a 'bang' resonates through these halls, it's a reason to be concerned.
Trevor is not actually aboard the Garencieries Jr. when it begins. He's in his quarters, still on the Ra Mari II as his magpie-like hoard of mementos, trikets and knicknacks have proven laborious to move onboard (and so he's been procrastinating heavily). He's tinkering with a certain jovial purple orb (presently in sleep mode for modifications), in a manner not unlike another Newtype aboard, because apparently this too may be a Newtype Trait. "Shi--" Trevor nearly cusses when a shot rings out, stopping just shy of stabbing his leg with a screwdriver. He'd noticed the hostility beginning to rise to a simmer-- it's impossible that he wouldn't notice. Unlike some of his peers, the gregarious pirate has built something of a rapport with the crew onboard. Certain rumors have found their way to his ears, and certain wayward thoughts and intents to his consciousness besides. Being a Newtype has certain advantages. But that it would boil over now...
"...Ugh. Of all the times to not have the laser module ready..." Trevor grouses, strapping a sidearm to one hip-- and a scabbard to his right.
It contains a cutlass.
Because of course it does.
The question, as he emerges to the light of the corridor-- and the sights and sounds of an unfoldng mutiny-- is...
Who will he throw his hat in with?
...
Trevor breathes a long sigh and slinks down the corridor, "Well. It was fun while it lasted, I guess..."
<Pose Tracker> Alto Saotome has posed.
Alto Saotome floats beside a collection of crates in the main hangar of the Ra Mari II. He's currently in his flight suit, sans helmet, after having helped escort a small transport convoy to the vessel. Right now he's just waiting for the transports to be unloaded before he has to escort them back again. It's actually his first time on the ship and while he would have liked to tour it (despite being from one of the Macross fleets he's never actually been on a Zentradi vessel before) things were pretty busy and so he's simply ended up killing time browsing stuff on his phone.
Alto's ears pick up the sound of the doors into the ship's proper interior opening, but he doesn't pay it much attention. No doubt people are coming and going from the hangar all the time, especially when there's work to be done. The sound of some heated discussion in the distance causes him to furrow his brow a little in annoyance, distracting him from the music video he's currently watching. He glances over in the direction of the source for a moment, spotting a couple of groups of differently dressed individuals. He's not too familiar with the dynamics of the alliance going on between the 3SA and the Sleeves. But it seems that there is some tension there. Not that it really matters to him. He goes back to watching the video.
It's a sudden loud bang echoing through the hangar that Alto really reacts to, instinctively ducking behind the crates here was near. At first, Alto's not entirely sure about what he heard. It sounded like a gunshot. But why would that happen? Maybe it was something else. Maybe someone banged something while moving cargo. Or there was some kind of mechanical failure in a pressure valve somewhere. Or-
Alto's hopes that this was something else are dashed as there is some definite shouting now, joined by further gunshots. The situation is quickly beginning to spiral into chaos as the 3SA and Sleeves in the hangar start to get into a shoot-out. Alto quickly reaches for his sidearm, pulling it from its holster. He pushes himself over towards the edge of the crate and peers around it. He can see members on both sides taking cover, exchanging shots with each other. The sight of blood spray floating through the hangar suggests there's already been injuries. Possibly even deaths.
A shot hits the crate Alto is behind, almost striking him too. He quickly ducks back around, swearing, "Shit! What the hell is going on here!?"
<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.
The secondary growbed bay is about four minutes from the bridge, three by the main dorsal tram and one by the main lift shaft. The shift has been wholly normal; most of the techs are civilians for whom this is their full-time job. The work goes quickly. Today, Liam is helping them load bags into storage, a feat made easier in zero gravity.
He has the forty-fifth bag in hand--easily a hundred pounds of synthesized soil--when he hears the first gunshots. He freezes. Several of the crew do, too. "Heads down," says Alvarez, the shift chief, as she ducks behind a reinforced planter. Her eyes are wide with the alertness that comes from preserving self and crew first, and investigating second.
Liam does not move. His first thought is that Vist planned this, somehow--and his fingers dig into the bag. Alvarez is right. He should keep his head down, stay out of this. But Lucine is here, and he doesn't know where, and if there are infiltrators he's among the best-equipped to deal with them, and--
Action. Adrenaline surges through Liam's system.
He kicks off the side of the cargo crate, aiming for the door. He carries the bag with him, all one hundred pounds of it. It takes three seconds for him to reach the airlock, and in those three seconds Alvarez realizes what's likely happened, and what he's doing.
Liam has realized, too.
"KID, STOP--"
Liam hurls the bag into the corridor; a stray bullet catches it, and bursts it open. Soil flies everywhere--curses from the hallway, and violent coughing. The gunfire stops for a moment, and Liam glances out. His nerves are wired so a moment is all he needs. Sleeves uniforms. Hephaestus' voice comes back to him--never trust a spaceman. The Zekes won't ever be satisfied until Earth is enslaved. Liam chokes down the bile, kicks off the doorframe, and bull-rushes the duo of Sleeves crewmembers.
Liam impacts shoulder-first, sending the woman spinning violently away. He has his back to the Alliance crew, but he has his Target, and he follows through. Liam grabs her sidearm, plants his palm on her sternum, and shoves. She slams into the wall, coughing even more violently. The second man has turned to Liam, but he's already too late. Liam has reoriented, flips the gun so he's gripping the barrel. Another kick launches him at the second soldier, and he drives the pistol at the side of his head. A gunshot, almost simultaneously. Liam's worked out the angles without thinking. The bullet races past him, clipping his blue jumpsuit.
Liam reaches for the man's hand. It takes remarkably little force, in comparison, to break a human wrist.
Liam flicks on the second gun's safety, and throws it to the stunned Three Ships ensigns. "Civilians in there," Liam says, his voice dispassionate. "Get these two to Medical. Alvarez--"
"Liam, what--"
He glances back into the bay, and sees more people staring at him. It's not the conditioning, he reminds himself, and he feels marginally safer. Just training. Just other augmentation. Just what you were built to do.
"Have to do my job," he says. His guts twist. But he kicks off the wall anyway, leaving Alvarez to get her crew to safety, and the Three Ships duo to subdue the wounded, disarmed Sleeves.
<Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
"Ah, could you get that for m--!"
There's that helpful 'pulse' of awareness, a second too late to be of any good. Lucine is not in the Dianthus; she is instead in a mode that would be better suited for *growing* Dianthuses.
Specifically, Lucine is in the zero G portion of Ra Mari II's greenhouse, looking through their seed bank for any varieties she could try on the Nadesico, now that some slots had opened up. Some varieties are better suited for the Zero-G conditions and more expansive quarters here, but some may be a perfect fit.
The most unfortunate Sleeves member hovers there, aiming a gun in Lucine's direction. Or, just maybe, the luckiest, as today is not the day either of them will have to kill their first combatant.
The two stare at each other in awkward silence, as if realizing they're playing by two entirely different scripts.
".... Ah..." Lucine looks at the gun aimed her her direction, then at the member, who hesitates. She nervously wets her lips, suddenly perceptive of the chances of that gun going off. ".... Ah... um. Er... I am... not sure why you are doing this, but I am certain... neither of us want this gun to go off."
She holds up the seed packets, feeling how it confuses Sleeves member, who looks to be about the same age as her. "... Could you tell me why you have me at gunpoint?"
She takes a step--
No, that was a mistake.
A nervous finger twitches on the trigger, and a shot is fired.
Blood beads from the mark where the bullet clipped Lucine's neck. Lucine swallows. ".... Please.... put the gun down."
She has to rethread that needle quickly. Violence is erupting throughout the ship; she can feel it now. If she can't subdue this person, someone else may come through those doors who will be just that much more battle-hardened to gun her down where she stands.
Teletha Testarossa teleports in.
POT: Teletha Testarossa is now set observer.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Gunfire rings out from the edges of the bridge as a group of armed soldiers storm through from the broader structure around it, surging to the sides with firearms up. "Captain!"
It's Enba Rezza, in uniform holding a pistol, along with the pilots Lancaster and Rosetta, at the head of the soldiers. The only shots so far were warning shots, far distant from hitting the delicate equipment (and human bodies) on the bridge. "Down!"
The bridge crew do exactly as instructed in the moment, but the chaos will afford the Sleeves a good chance. Eight looks to Angelo, her eyes glinting in a flash.
EARLIER:
"Banagher," Rezza tells the boy as they watch the Sleeves and their captives from a distance. "...I need you to get to the hangar. We're about to have trouble. If fighting breaks out... I want you ready in the Unicorn."
Then, Rezza rushes off, moving at a speed unexpected of the usually laconic XO. They'll have to move quickly...
AFTER THAT:
"Rena, Anita," Enba says, at the head of a small group. "Heading for the bridge? We could use your help." They know full well that these two are going to prioritize Eight's safety, no mind-reading required. "Have enough ammunition?"
NOW:
Eight doesn't move. She doesn't take her eyes off of Angelo.
ELSEWHERE AND NOW:
"Hands up!" Roux's captors are suddenly taken from behind. Tempo looks up, sharply--
It's an opening.
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
You think you can threaten us?
A disdainful stare is shot Licia Chovan's way -- but Angelo never keeps Eight out of the peripheries of his field of vision. Cuaron and Bato's stances have tensed with a certain sort of readiness as their commander drags that contemptuous gaze back towards Eight.
'Well?' the slow, impatient arch of his pale brow seems to suggest.
"Make your decision, -Captain-."
Get off my ship, Mr. Sauper. And take your people with you.
It's not quite surprise that makes those violet eyes of Angelo's widen; this is far from surprising to him. But...
There's no 'understanding' to be had with Full Frontal.
It's fury, that makes his stare widen, and then flatten, lips peeling apart in a trembling sneer.
"You people... it's always like this! Why can't any of you see?!" shouts the lieutenant. His hand reaches the scant distance behind his back, taking the grip of his gun.
"-Fine-."
Yanking it free to point at Captain Eight York with a gaze full of baleful anger.
"This was the only 'understanding' that filth like you were ever interested in--!"
Gunfire rings out in the bridge.
But not from Angelo.
It's surprise that widens Angelo Sauper's gaze -this- time as his stare snaps towards the entrance of the bridge to focus in on Enba Rezza, flanked by soldiers. Too many now, too many armed. Fury and surprise intermingle, and as Rezza commands everyone to get DOWN--
"You bastards!"
--Angelo goes UP instead.
A lifetime living as a soul unweighed by gravity serves in the Royal Guard Commander's favor; a lifetime of just learning how to -survive- gives him the ability he needs to spot an opening and exploit it. Feet push off the floor of the bridge, sending Angelo up into the twisting freedom of low-gravity. He fires off two shots as he ascends, ricocheting off the ground -near- Eight and the Captain's chair without actually trying to aim for her. A distraction. He needs it --
Because the second that his feet hit ceiling surface, he is pushing -off- in a sharp downward dive for the entrance. The soldiers are there. That's fine.
It serves him well, as he seeks to take advantage of the chaos to grab the leader of said soldiers, Enba Rezza, by the front, pointing his gun at their head as he uses momentum to twist -both- of them around --
--and then PLANT his booted feet into the small of the soldier's back, to kick them into Rena and Anita with a painful -shove-, while the kickback launches Angelo straight out of the door towards the halls, fixing one final glare upon Eight before he disappears past the exit.
"Damn you," hisses the white-haired young spacenoid as he hurtles down the halls, towards the hangars. Bato makes it out, short behind Angelo.
Cuaron is not so lucky.
---
Ultimately it sometimes takes just the smallest spark to start a wildfire.
<"Attention all Sleeves! This is Lieutenant Angelo Sauper! The crew of the Ra Mari II have broken our agreement and are engaging with hostile intent! You are to fall back to the hangars immediately and secure our mobile suits before they can be compromised! Do NOT let -anyone- get in your way!">
These are the incensed words of Angelo Sauper, hurriedly shouted across available lines of Sleeves communication. From there, Sleeves troops begin to mobilize -- and the halls of the immense Ra Mari II become the staging ground of a concentrated firefight.
Spacenoids in the uniforms of the Sleeves can be found rushing down the gravity-free boundaries of the Ra Mari II as chaos unfolds, exchanging shots with members of the Three Ships Alliance. They aren't interested in civilians -- or even protracted fights; they are, ultimately, on a ship too large for them to take over, with too many people to take over without risking losing too many of their own.
Every member of the Sleeves is armed and ready to fight as they pull back toward the hangar. Some of them have rifles, some have automatic weapons -- most, though, use handguns and other, simple, concealable weapons such as that. The Sleeves has never been a monolithic organization like the Zeonic fronts that preceded them. They make do with what they have.
And the most important of what they have to make do with, all resides in the hangars of the Ra Mari II sectioned off for their use. Mobile suits.
And it becomes rapidly clear that -that- is where the majority of them are trying to converge, even covering others at the cost of themselves to make sure enough of their number make it there. The Sleeves are not monolithic.
But they -are- desperate. And sometimes, desperation can accomplish great and terrible things.
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
"Alright!" Banagher calls in response. "The fighting is -- everywhere, but I'm on my way!"
Hallways fly by. Thankfully, the closer he gets to the hangar, the more fighting dies down. Banagher's heart pounds in his chest. Audrey -- where is she? Have the Sleeves managed to capture her during the chaos? Focus. If he can get to the Unicorn, he can protect the Ra Mari II. He has to trust Captain York to keep Audrey safe for now.
Turning the last corner to the hangar, Banagher emerges onto a balcony overlooking the mobile suits. Without hesitating, he kicks off the wall, propelling himself to the Unicorn. A gunshot echoes from the distant end of the hangar -- and a shot flies by Banagher, narrowly missing him.
Eyes wide, he pulls his arms and legs in, realizing how vulnerable he is in the air. The Unicorn waits for him, only a few yards away. If he can just get into the cockpit, he'll be fine --!
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Full Frontal's eyes narrow behind his mask.
Not this time, you foolish child.
Leaping towards Banagher as he desperately tries to reach the Unicorn, the Ghost of Char grapples the boy, slamming him against the torso of the RX-0.
% "I suggest you stay put and refrain from doing anything foolish. You're merely a simple map... and we don't need all of your body for that."
Even as the Unicorn's pilot struggles valiantly against his grasp, Char's revenant holds him firm and locked. Full Frontal frowns as he twists Banagher's arm further; any more force and the joint would dislocate itself.
"Why do you refuse us, boy? If the Federation obtains the box, all you will do is doom the Spacenoids, trapping them forever in this flawed system that exploits them without end. Your late father wanted reformation... so why do you fight so hard against his wishes? Without him, you would be nothing. No Unicorn. Just another cog in the system..."
As Banagher tries again and again to break free, Full Frontal's patience begins to wane. He slams the boy's head into the Unicorn, leaving a scarlet bloom from where the Key's nose meets the porcelain armor of the mobile suit. "Only we of Neo Zeon can save the Spacenoid peoples with the Box. What will you do?"
"What can you do?"
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Seconds too late, Banagher becomes aware of the presence of one he's bonded to. He twists in the air, raising his arms -- but he has no leverage, and no time.
"Full-- agh!" He cries, helpless to stop the Ghost as he slams Banagher into the Unicorn. Struggling with all his strength, the young pilot can only hiss in pain when Full Frontal strengthens his hold.
Coughing out something that might've been an attempt at a reply, Banagher shakes his head, brown hair brushing against the Unicorn. So close... He almost made it. The young pilot can't still himself entirely, his body twitching against the pain Full Frontal inflicts. Turning his head as much as he can, Banagher glares back at the revenant.
"There's one thing I do know." Teeth grit. "I would -- use it for everyone. Not just the Federation. Not just for Zeon -- space, or Earth. I'd use LaPlace's Box for everyone."
With another fierce struggle, Banagher wrenches his arm, threatening to dislocate it himself in his desperation to get free. "Let me go--! If the fighting spreads to the mobile suits, they'll destroy the Ra Mari II from the inside!"
All Banagher's efforts earn him a smash of his head against the Unicorn's armor. He cries out in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as he recoils. Dazed, Banagher almost misses Full Frontal's questions.
"I..." Blood floats around his face in the low gravity. "I can change things-- I can save her!"
Feelings and memories echo from the young pilot through his bond with Full Frontal, entwining their hearts in a way neither desires--
The Banshee falls, falls toward the ocean, away from the Red Comet. Banagher screams in fear and despair, manages to warn Audrey, and sends the Unicorn headlong after her sister unit. The sea strikes the Gundam like a wall of iron. Banagher barely flinches, knowing he must press forward...
--and a way neither can prevent.
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Full Frontal frowns, baring his teeth as unwanted visions assail him. Even so, he refuses to relinquish his grip on the boy.
"Those are the words of an idealistic fool and you know it. You cannot save everyone. No one is capable of doing so. I seek to save those who've long suffered under the yoke of the Federation. Those souls trapped in space who have been exiled and tossed away from our cradle on Earth. They deserve liberation, freedom, vindication... and yet you would still save their oppressors as well?"
The Ghost of Char voices his disgust as he slams Banagher into the Unicorn again, hearing a light crack as he does so. "You are incapable of such things. One man cannot become the voice for the entire human race... not unless he empties himself out and becomes a vessel for such souls crying out into space. But to become a vessel, he must go beyond the very depths of madness and emerge onto the other side."
For a moment, Full Frontal lightens his grip slightly, pondering. "Still... you do possess some measure of talent. If you wish to become a vessel... then come with me. You've been entrusted with your father's dreams and forced to undergo training not unlike a Cyber Newtype. Now that you've experienced such power, you will never again belong to that part of everyone. One day..."
"You will run headlong into the same despair I did."
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
"Nhh..." Banagher groans.
Full Frontal's words echo, the zeal of his conviction echoing through their shared bond. Banagher strains against the Ghost's hold again. This defiance only lasts a few moments -- Full Frontal's grip is too painful to fight.
"Yes! I--!" Banagher is cut off by his face being slammed forward again. There's a crunch. He shouts as something in his nose shatters. Again, the young man is dazed into silence.
Stars burst in Banagher's vision. Full Frontal speaks again, a siren song. A vessel... Is that what everyone needs? Is that how he can become someone who brings hope to others? With effort, the young man turns his head to stare at the Ghost of Char, transfixed by the siren song of his words.
"My -- father --" Banagher manages, before shuddering at the feeling of Full Frontal's despair. It climbs up his spine, coiling around his limbs with a heavy, icy bite.
Banagher remembers Alberto revealing the results of his blood test. Being prepared for physical and mental modifications, even as a toddler...
Gunfire breaks out in the hangar, closer -- the fighting has reached the base of the Unicorn. Shouts of Banagher's name reach the two, promising imminent rescue for the Key to LaPlace's Box.
Reacting sluggishly, Banagher watches Full Frontal. "I --" He struggles to speak, blood from his broken nose making it difficult. "If it saves --"
The rest of Banagher's answer is lost, drowned out by a gunshot striking the Unicorn's armor very near the two men.
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Full Frontal grimaces and disgust escapes his lips as he throws Banagher away from the Unicorn. Shots ring out in their direction, pinging off the armor of the Unicorn, as voices cry out to the boy.
"Pathetic. If this is all you can muster, then consider just laying there, mired in your delusions of a better future. You speak so much of possibilities and saving others, boy, but even now you still have no grasp of the sacrifices needed to save the souls trapped in space."
Turning away from Banagher, Full Frontal pushes off the Unicorn's arm, propelling himself towards the Sinanju. As crimson lines glow on his mask, the Sinanju stirs to life, its cyclopean eye blazing brilliant emerald as it brings up an arm to shield its master's arrival. The cockpit hatch opens as Full Frontal somersaults in, reassuming control of Neo Zeon's symbol of hope.
Opening a direct line to Angelo, Full Frontal mulls over his words for but a moment.
"Angelo. I entrust this rabble into your capable hands. You needn't defeat them, but make sure they cannot follow us. Not immediately."
Cutting the feed, the Ghost of Char walks the Sinanju out of its bay and rockets toward the hanger door, screaming into space and leaving the Key far behind. Through their bond, Full Frontal deigns to send one final communique.
There can be no future without sacrifice. None of us shall be made whole until the Federation falls and pays for its sins. Your desire to save "everyone" spits on the despair and tragedies the Spacenoids have been made to endure, time and time again. Only a vessel is capable of truly comprehending such sorrows.
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
Alec and Kwani have made it to the Garencieres Jr. bridge. "What the hell happened?" The larger man with the sunglasses demands.
"Coded transmission from the Captain," Gilboa replies. "The pressure cooker on the Ra Mari went off."
Angelo's transmission comes through and makes things perfectly clear - the tense peace between the Three Ships Alliance and the Sleeves has come to an abrupt end.
"Shit," Kwani mutters. "What do we do?"
"The ship's unarmed, and our suit complement isn't aboard, so they probably won't shoot us if we undock." Probably. Gilboa's hedging his bets. "But it's just us here and I'm not about to abandon the captain."
"So what do we do?" Kwani asks again - but he means 'where do we go from here'.
"... We're not abandoning the captain," Gilboa repeats. "No matter what."
"Yeah," Alec says, "but... what if he makes the wrong call?"
"What, you want him out there chasing the box out of obligation - alone? After everything he's done for us?"
The other two Garencieres Team members are silent.
"Besides... He'll do us proud. I know he will." Gilboa returns to watching his comm panel. "Come on, Cap..."
====== ======
"Captain," Tomura's voice comes through on the Garencieres Team's secure frequency, "Our suits are secured with our encryption codes, no chance of them being appropriated - but I couldn't get the Kshatriya to respond. I'm taking cover in the cargo bay."
"Understood, Tomura. Keep your head down until the fighting's done." Zinnerman cuts the commm, looking to Flaste at his side.
"So which side of the coin are we calling, Captain? Or are we still in the air?"
Zinnerman grunts, ignoring the question. "If Tomura couldn't access the Kshatriya remotely... We'd better hurry."
The two move carefully through the Ra Mari II. Their weapons are holstered, their movements are subtle, and they avoid most of the impromptu fighting breaking out aboard the ship.
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Mineva winces. She feels things escalate. She has to hurry...
Not that she has a plan for what she'll do next. But she floats along, keeping her senses open to avoid any firefights or stray Sleeves... and then she feels a presence. An important presence. It's near the hangar now, which is where the worst of the aggression is coming from.
Where Banagher is in danger.
She grabs a mover handle and redirects herself toward the hangar... toward Marida.
"Marida!" she calls out, once she's managed to catch up, as loudly as she dares. Once she's close enough to talk, she looks the woman in the eye. "I need to get to the hangar. I can stop this!" ... She hopes. "I need your help."
<Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
Nobody was dead. That was the good part.
The cluster of conspirators were surrounded, like cattle being herded. Walking along as they went down the hallway. Covered from both front and back and with someone in the middle - two groups, even. Roux was in the front, and she had her hands wrapped behind her head, as they all did. Hard to do anything like that.
The air seemed to crackle.
Roux contemplates her errors as she stared at the back of the head of the man who had smashed a fist into her face.
What he said wasn't wrong, Roux thinks: Even if I had reasons. Even if...
If...
Ugh, Roux thinks to herself. I can't believe this. Do I still have stuff stuck in my brain about that idiot? I should forget about him. Why was he doing any of this? Why were they doing any of this? Roux thought. Why not just -
Just -
Just run away, Roux thought, and her lips thinned.
And then --
Something at the rear of the cattle train. Shouts. Angelo's voice echoes over their comms even if Roux cannot make it out, just the tension in them as they shout. Several of the Sleeves return fire, the one in the front looks back -
go time
And Roux lowers her head and unfolds her hands and lunges straight forwards to smash herself into the solar plexus of the man, digging in her elbow as far as it can go. She was astonished to find how thin he was - wasted, no, but the uniform had made him seem bigger than he truly was. He was smaller than Beecha, Roux thought as he fell backwards and Roux plucked the synthetic silk scarf out of the hand he had been holding it.
And in a moment the gun was in her hand.
"Guh! Jeccub! Kill her!" Roux heard as she raised the gun upwards. Her thumb print slid over the "on" toggle and the aim screen flipped up, gleaming in red electrolettering as it took in the space encompassed by the narrow-field video camera. Roux held it upwards and it encompassed the face of the man who'd hit her and -
Jeccub, Roux thinks. That's his name.
Jeccub stared at her with fury and Roux thought for a moment: Where is his gun?! A sudden intuition made her right foot snap outwards and suddenly kick an extended wrist hard enough for something to snap. The man on the ground howled even as Roux saw clumsy but numerically advantaged lunges by the crewfolk behind her. Gunshots, struggles. She couldn't smell much blood.
'you--' Roux heard, from someone, even if there was silence.
Roux went ahead and gave the man on the ground another kick for good measure. "Drag your freak buddy off and eat shit if I care," Roux shouts, "if I see you go for that gun you're both dead, you UNDERSTAND ME?"
SOMEONE shot a round in their direction and it spanged off a bulkhead. Gibbering silently, impotent tears in his eyes, Jeccub half-crouched and grasped his fallen comrade's leg. 'No! Dammit! You fucking coward! FOR THE LAST TIME I DON'T--'
Roux pressed her back to the opposite corridor wall and side-walked forwards. Sweep the advance hallway: the smartgun made a faint pin-pon at a lack of targets. Sweep the hallway Jeccub and co. had gone down - a brief track but they were pulling out of sight, even as she inched forwards, her field of vision expanding.
Tempo popped up. Alive! Hooray! Roux thought.
"Where are they going?!" Tempo shouts.
"Away?" Roux guessed, her eyes wide. The bruised one was starting to hurt.
"That is the problem, that is the arc down towards the starboard hangar--!"
<Pose Tracker> Rena Lancaster has posed.
"Don't doubt it," Rena says to Enba, with a nod. She looks at Anita -- and she knows well what the weight that Anita moves with means. She will pack more than a mean punch, today. Rena checks the ammunition in her sidearm, then she keeps walking.
She heads towards the bridge.
She looks down the corridor, tensing as the bridge door opens and Enba shouts. Gunfire erupts.
"Octo!" Rena shouts, as Enba is hurled at her and Anita. Enba goes flying -- and they slam into her, knocking her down. In that time, Angelo and one of his men make a break for it. She tries to disentangle herself, and gets up, looking into the bridge. "Enba, are you okay? Captain York, are you? Is--"
She tenses, as she hears the announcement. Her eyes widen.
Then, she looks down the corridor -- and her eyes land on Trevor Teach. She doesn't so much as twitch an eyelid at the sight of him with a cutlass. She remembers him from Asciel's concert. She remembers who he was with. She remembers what he did for her.
They both looked happy.
Rena makes eye contact with Trevor Teach for a moment, and then she speaks to him. She doesn't doubt he'll recognize her. They're both Newtypes. They already know, on some level.
"Do you want to make Ruri sad?" she asks him, as she holsters her sidearm -- and looks back to the corridor leading back to the hangar. She looks to Annie, then calls out to the other crew members: "Let's go! To the hangar!"
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
"Your Highness!" Just as she was thinking about her, Mineva fell right into her lap!
Once Mineva is close enough, Marida gently grabs her shoulders to keep her still. "Mineva, we need to get you to the Garencieres Jr. right now! The longer you're on this ship, the more danger you're in!"
"Our suits are secured with our encryption codes, no chance of them being appropriated - but I couldn't get the Kshatriya to respond. I'm taking cover in the cargo bay."
Tomura's voice comes in, and Marida's stomach sinks. "Tomura, lay low! I'm heading towards the Kshatriya immediately! Mineva, are you sure you need to go to the hanger? ...It's probably the easiest way to get you off the ship..."
Marida's hand tightens on her pistol. At this point, the Kshatriya might be the safest place for her. "Very well. But follow close to me and be prepared to run at the first sign of trouble."
<Pose Tracker> Anita Rosetta has posed.
Anita and Rena make their way toward the bridge - but they aren't the only ones headed that way.
"Enba, good to see you're alright. How're things lookin'?" Anita asks, offering them a wave. She nods, then, her expression becoming serious. "Right behind you."
Together, their group makes it through the bridge, where a fierce standoff is occuring. No violence has occurred yet, but their arrival shifts the balance. Warning shots go off, and Angelo takes his leave. Anita's used to low gravity movement, but him - he moves through it without restriction, swift and smooth. In an instant, he's upon them, taking hold of Enba and then shoving them toward herself and Rena.
"Whoa there!" Anita calls out. There's a hydraulic hiss as she plants her feet, stabilizing herself to the bridge floor as she holds her arms out to catch them - to arrest their flight, so they don't slame into a wall.
Seeing to her friends comes before chasing after an enemy, in her book.
"You okay?" Anita asks, setting them down before looking around. "And how's everyone here? Anyone hurt?"
An announcement is made - a certain pirate arrives. Anita doesn't know Trevor, but Rena does, so she'll follow her lead. And right now, that lead is...
"Right behind you." Anita confirms with a nod.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight's eyes remain on Angelo's. If she's about to be shot, she has no intention of looking away. That baleful anger of his. Her entire body tenses--she prepares to move, to try to anticipate his shot, to give herself the only chance she sees--
But gunfire erupts, and her tension breaks part of the armrest of her chair, her Cyber-Newtype enhanced musculature cracking plastic. It's surprise, too, that sees her expression shift--and then relief. She dives to the side, away from Angelo's gunfire.
Enba in the meantime is from Earth; they can anticipate most things, but can't operate so freely as Angelo in this lack of gravity, and they're grabbed all of a sudden. "Gh--Don't let up!"
But the threat they anticipate is not the threat that comes. The gun goes unfired, as instead they're kicked towards Rena and Anita. Anita catches them, preventing them impacting hard with delicate consoles against ordinary human body.
"My apologies," the Acting Captain says, rattled but not broken. Though a rib might be, it would be worse if Anita hadn't caught them regardless. "Thank you," they say to Anita. Then, "I'm fine!" Enba assures Rena. Then, Eight pushes herself off the floor. "Little bruised, nothing more," she assures Rena and Anita both. To the soldiers, "Get to the hangar."
"Soldiers," Enba says, "Go. I'll protect the Captain." With their life--that goes unsaid. Eight hesitates only a moment before she nods. "Thank you. Let's get over the intercoms--"
She reaches out just for a moment, to take Rena's hand. "Good luck out there. Both of you had better come back to me." She looks to Anita, too, gratefully. "We're okay," she says. Then she starts immediately back for her chair.
"Kazama, get our weapons online. Kall, check in with engineering for me." Her heart is in her throat. She knows what she has to do, but--
ELSEWHERE:
The soldiers of the 3SA have no time or attention for people who aren't firing their way down the path; Zinnerman's men avoid trouble.
IN ENGINEERING:
"Commander!" say two Macronized Zentradi, bowling through a pair of Sleeves operatives who go sprawling in the wake of the giants' charge on their way to rescue Lavnadim Orlodhari, pinned down in the fighting with a bullet in his shoulder. "Go!" he says. "They are--headed for the hangar!"
"No, sir," the larger of the two says. "Our orders are to protect you. You will not be pursuing. The Captains have people for that. She says that you must have the ship ready to move immediately!"
BACK ON THE BRIDGE:
But Eight turns, to look towards the corridor, with Trevor. She can hope--
But it's up to him.
<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.
Another gunshot echoes off the walls as Liam races down the corridor. His head jerks in the sound's direction. His hand snaps out, grabs hold of a maneuvering handhold put in place for just this purpose. Tension spreads through his shoulder as he arrests his momentum, but his bones and muscles were rebuilt to handle far worse stress. He twists, kicks, and rushes into the--
The seed storage, he thinks, horror twisting his guts, draining the mercy from him. Lucine said she'd--
Lucine.
Liam's eyes flick back and forth, taking in the blood dribbling from Lucine's neck, the uniform of the woman that shot her. There's too little blood for an artery wound, but that's cold comfort; the woman's finger is on the trigger, and he sees it still twitching--
Liam hits her like a freight train. He might not weigh anything in zero-g, but he's still a massive person, and mass is still relevant. The two of them fly back into a set of shelves. Polymer casing splinters. Liam feels the target's ribs strain and crack. The Sleeves enlisted sucks in a panicked, pained breath, and fires blindly. The bullet tears past Liam, into another set of shelves. The cyborg's face contorts in cold rage. He rips the gun from her fingers, and looks into her wide, wide eyes.
'And that's one less Zeon terrorist. Congratulations, Puppy, you're a man now.'
He's looking into the face of a woman who is injured, and convinced she's going to die. Hephaestus' words echo in his head like some sick Greek chorus. "No," Liam says. He taps the side of his jumpsuit collar. "Medical, one injured, seed storage. Thoracic injuries." He grips the woman's shoulder, and gently steers her to the side. Then--Lucine.
"Lucine," Liam says, and he is a seething knot of rage and hate and fear and disgust and desperate drive, papered over with durable layers of combat readiness training. "Go with them."
<Pose Tracker> Alto Saotome has posed.
Keeping himself behind cover, Alto hasn't fired his own weapon yet. Mainly because he has no clue what's going on. At least, not the specifics. Clearly the 3SA and Sleeves are going at it, for some reason. Which ordinarily would be unfortunate, but not specifically involve Alto. Unfortunately Alto is here, in the midst of it, with a high chance of getting shot. So he is definitely involved now. And as the gunfight is growing in intensity and closer to him, Alto's going to have to make a choice. Very quickly.
Turns out it's actually not that hard, given two simple facts. One, this is a 3SA ship which likely means the Sleeves are the ones up to no good. And two, Alto knows the Nadesico is part of the 3SA and he has friends on board. The choice is simple.
And a good thing too, as Alto catches the sight of a familiar looking individual stupidly floating through open air without any cover. Alto recognizes Banagher from the previous meeting. Someone on the Sleeves team takes a potshot at him and misses. Alto swears again, not loud enough for Banagher to hear, "That idiot." Alto pulls himself up to peek out over the top of the crate that is his cover. He lines up a shot on the Sleeves member that fired at Banagher and shoots back, forcing the man back behind cover and stopping him from getting any further shots off at Banagher.
Not that it does a lot of good as Alto returns to his own cover and looks back in Banagher's waying, seeing him under assault from that man in red who also looks familiar. Damnit, Alto needs to start paying more attention to the intel reports. Raising his gun, Alto aims towards the two... But the fight is too chaotic. He can't get a clear shot.
More gunfire shoots out towards the two and Banagher unfortunately loses the fight and is left floating there, looking dazed. Alto frowns as he quickly considers... Thisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupidscrewit!
Alto kicks off from the hangar floor and speeds up towards Banagher. Spinning around for a moment, he starts firing in the direction of the Sleeves that have been taking more shots at Banagher. Alto is dangerously out in the open and needs to keep them pinned. Unfortunately this also draws attention to him and a bullet grazes Alto's arm, cutting through flight suit and drawing blood. Alto winces, but has no time to ponder the pain as he reaches Banagher. Crashing into the other man-this is no time for delicate low-g maneuvers-Alto wraps one arm around Banagher while the other moves to tap some controls on his flight suit. Maneuvering thrusters fire for a moment, altering the two's momentum and pushing them down towards the hangar floor again.
Moving himself and Banagher behind one of the Unicorn's legs for cover, Alto now says clearly loud enough for Banagher to hear, "You're an idiot!" More gunshots strike the Gundam's armor and Alto returns fire once more. He then looks at Banagher, "Don't listen to that asshole's words. Screw all this talk about vessels or sacrifice. The future is not written by one person and none of us can predict it, so worrying about it is pointless. Just focus on the here and now. On saving the people right in front of you. And trust that your actions will lead to a better tomorrow. That's all anyone in this world can do."
<Pose Tracker> Trevor Teach has posed.
Space. Space is very, very empty. Space, empty air, is also suddenly of tremendous interest to one space pirate in particular. Why? Because there are words in his ear. Words that make absolutely no sense when they enter into his consciousness. The crew of the Ra Mari II, engaging with hostile intent? The whole crew? As much tension might exist between the Sleeves and the captain, there's no way she'd order hostilities. It's more her style to... Just break things off and let them all leave peacefully. In the short time he's known Captain York, Trevor understands at least that she wouldn't violate hospitality like that.
Which either means there's a double mutiny afoot... Or that the Lieutenant is intentionally fanning the flames. Trevor's expression darkens. There's only one way to find out, either way. He breaks into a run, trusting that his ~absolutely sterling reputation onboard~ and status as a card-carrying mercenary for the Sleeves will see him safely where he needs to go. There are close calls, of course.
He turns down one corridor and gets a gun pointed at his head, for example. "Hands up!" An unfamiliar voice shouts, only for an adjacent crewman to nudge the barrel aside. "It's fine. He's fine," Enjou, he recognizes, medical aide, and frequent taste-tester for the cooks, and as a result a recent addition to the regular workout sessions at the gym. "He's with the zekes, there's no way we can let him past!" The one with a gun, someone he recognizes less-- but they'd passed each other enough times at the hangars. She's one of the mechanics. Her name--
"Angela, come on love," Trevor laughs sheepishly, "I'm on a mission of peace, scout's honor! I just want to go ask the Cap'n what the space hell is going on and--"
"What's going on is that you snakes started a shooting war!" Angela spits, "You-- your bastard friends shot Max--" Trevor's blood chills. He recognizes that name too. Maxine, hadn't he seen these two together before? "I--"
"Come on Ange, you know he didn't do it," Enjou says, gently. There's-- blood on his hands, Trevor recognizes. And around the corner, on the floor, legs peeking out from behind a door. "...It's alright, go do what you need to do, just... Promise you won't make me regret this," the medic adds, gently guiding his friend back into that side-chamber. Soft sobs echo out after them. Trevor lets his hands fall...
...As Rena comes up to him. He recognizes her, too. The psychic emanations, more than the face, but stil. Would he want to make Ruri sad...?
He looks up at Captain York, eyes meeting. The chaos. The bloodshed. Damnation, this is really a mess. "...No," he sighs, resigned, "I don't."
"...I don't know what all this is about, nor do I care that this alliance has broken down," Trevor decides, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "But it seems to me that the Lieutenant breached basic rules of hospitality and may've pulled rank to try and get the rest of us to do the same. And that's something an honest Vestan can't abide. So. I'll do what I can to get you all to the hangars safely. Just, if we run into any of the other Sleeves, give me a chance to talk them down if it looks like we can, alright?"
...
The downside to the 'gregarious' part of 'gregarious space pirate.'
When you become everyone's friend, it makes the pain so much worse when you have to throw in your lot.
<Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
Angelo's announcement sounds over the Sleeves' member's communicator. As close as they are, Lucine hears fragments of it. She can feel the droplets of blood drip languidly into the air; she's not about to startle the young woman with any sudden movements.
She can work this to her favor, she just needs a nudge--
Or Liam can 'nudge' the Sleeves member aside with enough force that Lucine winces. Shots fire from the panicked Sleeves member, but these are even worsely aimed than the one that nearly hit Lucine, instead hitting some precious trays of plants.
"... Liam." Lucine's voice lays over the fear and panic curdling in her stomach like a white sheet, barely disguising what's underneath. ".... It's okay now." She floats towards the first aid kit as her hand clamps down on the side of her neck, using her free hand to open the kit and fumble for the neccessary bandages.
Thankfully, Lucine was well grilled in first aid from an early age.
Wrapping the bandage around as Liam handles contacting help, Lucine only replies when he asks her to go with that team, offering a soft, but solid, "No."
Her yellow eyes stare at his back. "...." Fear, disgust, anger, the tang of someone certain she's facing death.
".... You saw me bleeding," Lucine says, offering a guess, or better yet, an excuse for Liam to acknowledge the emotions boiling in him. "... I may be average in combat, but I'm another pair of eyes. We'll be stronger as a team. Especially if we come across allies." She looks up. "Towards the hangar. Something's happened. Familiar people. ... Banagher...?" She fiddles with the last clip of her pressure bandage. "Someone else... maybe.... not a Newtype, but still an acquaintance... We should go that direction."
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
Angelo Sauper has explored every inch of the Ra Mari II he was allowed to. He did it multiple times, until he learned them all by heart, despite how uneasy and agitated the grand size of the ship made him. It wasn't out of curiosity.
It was so he knew every inch of a place he inherently viewed as hostile for the day the pretense was dropped.
Regardless of whether all this could have been, perhaps, avoided if there had been a true attempt at understanding - regardless of whether Angelo's paranoid survivor's instincts poisoned the well of this entire arrangement - it serves him well now, as he navigates through the bowels of the Three Ships vessel with a canny understanding of its layout. He knows the shortest way to get to the hangar. He knows the most likely spots for chokeholds and bottlenecks.
The sounds of gunfire and violence provide all the rest of the information he needs as he and Bato push on to the Sleeves' hangar bay.
Of course... all that information can only provide cover for -so- long. Violence is inevitable -- and as Angelo rounds the corner towards the hangar doors, shots ring out, -just- barely escaping the tip of his nose by a hair's breadth. The Sleeves lieutenant chokes back a strangled sound of surprise; handgun snapped forward, he fires off three shots around the corner -- before Bato grabs his shoulder and -shoves- him back.
"What the hell are you--?!" Angelo begins, confusion and irritation in his voice.
"I'm covering you, you idiot!" is Bato's slightly-insubordinate response. The redhead flashes him a smile, tipping his head to the right.
"Get moving, or the Colonel's gonna have my ass!"
"Tch--"
The scowl on Angelo's lips lasts only a few precious seconds before neutrality sets in once more. The pale spacenoid just nods, waits --
And -lunges- just as Bato starts to fire upon the Ra Mari II's soldiers, using the opening to cross the border between this place he could never grow comfortable with, and freedom.
He pauses, only for a single second at the threshold.
The vase--
"..."
No. It's worthless, now.
Angelo presses on.
---
The confrontation between Full Frontal and Banagher has subsided, for better or worse, by the time Angelo Sauper makes it to the hangar. He floats in front of the cockpit of the Krake Zulu, staring at the body floating listlessly past. Myrna Burnaj. She was a pilot just like all the rest of them, but her passion was for mechanics. Her gun floats uselessly beside her.
"..."
Angelo stares for two, fist-clenched seconds before he grabs the gun, pushes the body out of the way and opens up the Krake with its emergency manual release.
Slipping inside, Angelo swiftly brings his mobile suit online just in time to hear Full Frontal's orders. "Colonel--!" Angelo begins, unable to hide the aftertaste of palpable relief chasing his tone.
I entrust this rabble into your capable hands. You needn't defeat them, but make sure they cannot follow us. Not immediately.
Violet eyes narrow just as the pink mono-eye of the Krake Zulu ignites.
<"Yes, Colonel!">
*bwomm*
And, emboldened, Angelo's Krake Zulu thrums to life, thrusters sending it in the gravity-free air that plays to its legless build -perfectly- as it turns...
Affixing baleful, mono-eyed gaze upon the Unicorn. Upon Alto as he ducks behind the Unicorn's leg.
Upon Banagher.
"You... god damn you... Banagher!!"
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Mineva nods, "I'm sure. I'll stay close!"
She follows behind Marida as fast as she can, bounding off the floor in long steps, practiced from her life aboard both colony and ship. Once inside the Kshatriya's cockpit, she quickly puts on a normal suit, and only then stops to survey and fully take in the tense conflict playing out below them. She points to Banagher, pressed up against the Unicorn in Full Frontal's grip. "There he is!" As the mobile suit steps out of its bay, intercepting the Kraka Zulu, Mineva turns on the Kshatriya's speakers.
"Withdraw your forces, Full Frontal. We do NOT choose to walk the same path as you."
"The second coming of the Red Comet... the Sleeves did need you, once. We were being hounded by the Federation, crushed under its boot, and you gave us hope. But that time has passed, and I saw you long ago for what you are. You are NOT Char. The Char Aznable that I knew was a man who believed in human possibility!"
"Garencieres team, officers and soldiers of Neo Zeon, listen to me. Whatever Laplace's Box turns out to be, it will mark a profound turning point for Zeon... no, for all humanity. It may even be capable of bringing about the future that Full Frontal spoke of. He may be correct--it may be the only realistic option for humanity's survival. But... do you truly want that to be the future? Isn't the future supposed to be a different time from the present? A better world than the one we have now? The harmony and human evolution that Zeon Deikun dreamt of don't exist in the future Full Frontal envisions. You heard it yourself, from his own mouth. His future is an endless cycle of war. The status quo remains the same--oppressors and oppressed, merely changing places, spilling the blood of billions in the process."
"This is why I can no longer be a part of the Neo Zeon he would create... but I refuse to give up. Soldiers of Neo Zeon, you are the successors to those who brought about the tragedies of the One Year War, just as much as I am. You have not only inherited the name of Zeon, but responsibility, as well! If we simply accept that the status quo is fixed and unchangeable, we can't fulfill that responsibility! The light the Unicorn showed us--"
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
The Kshatriya looms, holding Angelo at a disadvantage while Mineva makes her speech. For a moment, it seems like she might be allowed to say her piece entire...
Until a stern voice cuts her off - but not by addressing her.
"Marida. Open your cockpit."
Up there, on the balcony, watching the tableau: Suberoa Zinnerman, a comm headset in his ear. His face is expressionless. Flaste is behind him, staring daggers at his captain's back.
On the Garencieres Jr., Gilboa sucks in a breath through his teeth.
Zinnerman looks up at the Kshatriya as the cockpit opens. "That's enough. Come out of the cockpit, and bring the princess with you."
His delivery is flat.
He swore he'd never do this to her again.
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
Marida almost instinctually opens the cockpit, glaring at her captain.
God dammit...She can't raise a single hand against him. What was more important...Mineva's safety...or that orders are followed?
You have to do as Master says
You're nothing but a trigger for him to pull
It's always been this way, there's just nothing to be done
But did it have to be? Why did it have to be that way? Her hands clench so hard, her knuckles go white. She turns to Mineva. "Princess, stay behind me."
And then she turns to Zinnerman.
"No."
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Suberoa Zinnerman's words send a shock down Mineva's spine.
She stares down at the Garencieres Jr., looking like the breath's just been knocked out of her... and with surprise at Marida as she defies the order. A smile comes and goes, small and faint. But a smile.
She's proud of Marida.
"Zinnerman... just a few nights ago, we talked about regrets. And about Leina. You sat across from me, just as disgusted as I was at what was being done to her. But I see you're still a prisoner of your past... You know you couldn't have done anything at Globe City. If you were there, you'd have been nothing but another casualty. But you have Marida. You have your crew... you have a family now, too. People who care about you. Who depend on you."
She looks at Marida, still speaking to Zinnerman. "Are you willing to treat your daughter as the same sort of weapon they've turned Leina into?"
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
Marida hears her order. She responds to her order.
She refuses.
Everyone on the Garencieres Team holds their breath - except their Captain. The shock of her denial snaps him out of his muted emotional state into a sudden surge of anger.
"No!? Marida Cruz, I am - "
This time, Mineva cuts him off - and he falters, the anger abating as quickly as it came. Without thinking about it, he pulls a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, staring down at it.
"I know," he answers Mineva, "but the knowing - the reason - can't make these feelings go away. The hatred... the regret."
His hand, holding the photograph - a woman and a girl, both with bright auburn hair - shakes.
"I couldn't do anything... I couldn't help them. They must have been so afraid... in so much pain... and I couldn't do anything."
'Are you willing to treat your daughter as the same sort of weapon they've turned Leina into?'
Zinnerman reels as though he's been struck. "I..."
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
"What am I to you, Suberoa Zinnerman?"
Not Captain. Not Master. Not even F*****.
Suberoa Zinnerman.
"I need to know what I am to you...so I can know what you are to me." Her voice is audibly quaking as she pulls herself together best as she can.
"Leina didn't have a choice in what she became. I thought I didn't, either. But being with the crew...being with Banagher and Mineva...and being with you...all of you gave me a choice, and I threw it away."
She wipes her eyes with a gloved hand, bringing it back down to grip at the Kshatriya's controls. "I'm making my choice. I'm going to protect the Princess at all costs, and if you stand in my way, you're an enemy."
Eight York has connected.
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
Marida uses his name. She does not call him Master or Captain.
'I need to know what I am to you... So I know what you are to me.'
A lump in his throat, Zinnerman stares down at the photograph - then, suddenly, feeling something, he looks up.
The spectral image of a girl no older than ten, auburn hair braided into pigtails, hovers in front of him. She places a tiny hand on the hand holding the photograph. She smiles at him.
Papa has such a big heart, but it's all closed up. Let them in, okay?
I always wanted brothers and sisters.
Marie Zinnerman fades away.
Tears fall from Suberoa's eyes, drifting away in the zero-g, orbs of salt and water and mucus. He finally accepts a truth he's known for a long time. He swallows, forcing himself to speak.
"Marida Cruz... This will be my final order." A promise to himself as much as to the woman piloting the Kshatriya. "Listen to your heart, and I will be there for you, my daughter."
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Banagher, finally released from Full Frontal's crushing hold, is completely blindsided by another man crashing into him. At first, he struggles wildly, not recognizing Alto. But once the other man speaks--
"I know you." Banagher's golden eyes clear slightly. "From the meeting."
The young pilot looks... pretty rough. Blood covers his face, his eyes are slightly unfocused -- probably a concussion, and he keeps his left arm held close to his chest. As they maneuver down to the hanger floor and behind the Unicorn, Banagher stays quiet, letting Alto speak.
"Saving..." He manages, voice thick with blood and unshed tears. Banagher looks down at his hands, then glances in the direction Full Frontal disappeared to. He can still feel the Ghost of Char, distantly, glimmering at the edge of Banagher's awareness like a faraway star.
With clear effort, Banagher returns his gaze to Alto. Every gunshot makes the young pilot flinch, but he's steady. "You're right. LaPlace's Box doesn't mean anything right now, we have to stop this fighting! People are getting hurt!"
"Guh." Banagher finishes, choking slightly. He sniffles loudly, turning away from Alto to spit out a mouthful of blood. "I hate that guy so much."
Peeking out from around the Unicorn's leg (surely putting himself at risk, Banagher has absolutely no combat training), the young pilot quickly darts back behind cover. The fighting has grown even more heated, with seemingly endless Sleeves soldiers pouring into the hangar.
Trying to leave cover now would be suicide. Banagher looks at Alto, fear in his eyes, until--
A voice.
So wonderfully familiar.
So horrifically twisted.
It echoes into the hearts of those open to it, loud and certain.
An end to this, once and for all.
You won't get away this time, Banagher.
I'll tear the Unicorn apart, and prove to you the lie that is Possibility.
"Leina." Banagher whispers, anguished. His breathing speeds up until he chokes again. "Leina -- LEINA!"
Gunfire strikes the leg of the Unicorn, and Banagher shrinks back. He's got to get into the Unicorn, he's got to find her! Frantically, he looks to Alto, then --
Heedless of the gunfire. Heedless of the hatred of Angelo in his Krake Zulu, Banagher propels himself up and out. Toward the Unicorn's cockpit. He's slow, far too slow. Banagher braces himself for the inevitable shot tearing through his body... but it never happens. Instead, Audrey's voice rings out through the hangar.
Pride swells in his heart as she speaks. "Audrey..." He murmurs, reaching out to touch the white armor of his Gundam. Green light shimmers to life deep within the Beast of Possibility.
The Unicorn's cockpit opens, and Banagher ducks inside, shielded by the grace of Audrey's words.
Leina. I'm waiting for you. This time, we're all going home together.
<Pose Tracker> Rena Lancaster has posed.
Rena looks at Eight, her eyes full of worry for a moment. She nods, though, then she squeezes her hand. "All right," she says. She looks at Enba, then she smiles. It's thin; it's forced. "I'm counting on you, Acting Captain."
She starts moving. But she turns her head, eyes meeting Anita's. She says she is right behind her. "I know. Let's do this, Annie. We're not giving them our home."
Then, she looks at Trevor. She hesitates for only a second -- before she nods. "I'm glad you're with us," she says. "And if you can talk them down... then all the better. But if not... we've got to secure the ship. I won't ask you to fire on them, but..."
The same doesn't go for her.
They keep running until they reach the hangar. Rena looks up -- seeing Angelo, as he rushes for his Krake Zulu. Her eyes narrow -- then widen, as Mineva starts her speech. She doesn't get to finish it. Zinnerman and Marida speak -- and it's heartening to hear Marida side with Mineva.
Rena looks up, sees Banagher go for the Unicorn -- with help from Alto Saotome, of all people -- and then she looks at Anita. "Let's go for our suits!" she says. She grabs hold of Anita, then kicks off the ground -- into the air -- and she turns her pistol.
She aims at the Krake Zulu. She fires, a bullet from the sidearm flying at it -- but the recoil sends her and Anita flying for, in the distance, the Gaia Gear Alpha and the Svipul.
"Sauper!" she shouts. "You have to stop this! Listen to them! They're--they're your allies! You've got to let go of this!"
<Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
Time. Travel. Hallways. Roux continues forwards.
At one intersection Roux leans forwards and sweeps the smartgun ahead of her, briefly getting in the line of fire of a Sleeves trooper. She watches the reticle, which imaged where they were, and the red dot streaks and she adjusts the gun and the red dot appears again and Roux fires three times.
The rounds streak outwards, hissing in the air as the fire pin stamps the sliver of solid rocket fuel that serves as propellant. The bullets scream, and curve as they do, and someone else screams too. Roux keeps moving.
Towards...
THE HANGAR
Roux is not the first one to reach the hangar. The first one on the scene is Jeccub Zeihn, the former radio operator and now... now he's a soldier of the Sleeves, he does what he needs to do. He's the first to get there and he's taken his comrade's gun after being bid to leave him behind. Cursed, yes, but he's here when a voice echoes out from the Kshatriya. He turns his head. "Damn you! Get out of -"
He falters as he begins to recognize the voice.
"... Lady Mineva...?"
TO ROUX LOUKA ALL IS ACTION. Roux ends up half-stumbling into a top gantryway, sweeping the smartgun around on both sides. Miraculously, nobody is pointing a gun at her. She can see a Ra Mari II crewman laying on her side, curled up. She does not have time to worry about her.
Even so, running by, she slows. A glance down - and her face hardens for a moment.
Back upwards. She can see the Strike Zeta. Sky blue and those black replacement parts. It stands out. Why did she park there? Why did she have to come in last? Sweet God, Roux thinks, why --
Roux hears what is being said. She stops, again.
Roux gazes at the Kshatriya at what is being said. With something not unlike wonder. There is a vestigal feeling, coming from the place where all the wry quips and saucy comebacks Roux has produced and will produce are born, but it does not remain long. For a few moments, Roux Louka can see the dream of Zeon.
The rest... the hatch opens. Roux has a sense of what that is. She cannot hear it, only feel it. She watches even so. For some reason, the smartgun in her hand is drifting forwards a little. If...
... but the moment passes; and she can hear Rena. Her eyes widen as she looks down cross-wise towards Rena, who takes a shot at the Krake Zulu. "Tsk," Roux says, before bringing her own gun up: "So that's why you--"
Something cold speaks.
No. Not something. Someone.
Roux's heart quails for the third time in the last hour, but she grits her teeth; and she runs the last twenty yards, towards the entrance into the Strike Zeta's cockpit. As she runs she mutters to herself: "I did not see off a god damned space dragon to watch you do this to yourself LEINA!!"
POT: Kamille Bidan is now set observer.
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
Marida finally allows a tear to fall from her eyes. The weight of twelve lifetimes is lifted from her shoulders. "I will do my best to make you proud...Father." A sniffle. "I had always thought that 'Marida Zinnerman' had a ring to it."
The moment is pierced through by the cold voice of what she had just pushed past. She grits her teeth.
You won't be doing this to me anymore.
"I reject you, Puru-1." Her hands tighten around the controls of the Kshatriya. She needs to get Mineva out of here. "Princess! It's too dangerous to linger here!"
<Pose Tracker> Suberoa Zinnerman has posed.
Heart opened at last, Zinnerman feels the full force of that baleful missive, staggering backwards like he's been shot and collapsing.
Fortunately, his long-suffering second-in-command is there to catch him. "Captain! Are you hurt?"
Zinnerman shakes his head to Flaste, putting his fingers to his headset to change his comm target. "Gilboa, do you read!?"
"Affirmative, Captain! What the hell just - "
"Get the psycometer online! Tell me what you see!"
There's a pause, then - "... We've got the Unicorn's signal... the other suits on the Ra Mari II... and... something else, coming in real hot - is that - it's an RX-0 signature."
"The Banshee," Zinnerman confirms, darkly. "Garencieres Team, the enemy is approaching our position and we are unprepared for combat! Gilboa, undock the Junior and stay away from the incoming threat."
All his team are in the wrong place. His best pilots are on his ship, and all his mobile suits are here on the 3SA Monitor. All except...
He looks up at the Kshatriya again. "Marida..." Despite his best efforts to maintain a captain's stoicism, a tiny tremolo enters his voice.
After all, by accepting his duty as her father, he has to accept a father's fear.
He keeps his promise: He gives no order. Marida's heart will be her guide - and he will support her.
<Pose Tracker> Anita Rosetta has posed.
"'Salright." Anita replies with a shake of her head as Enba apologizes, and then nods. "Good to hear. And... I'm countin' on you."
She waits just a little longer to make sure they can move on their own before turning her attention back to Eight. She offers her a smile as she confirms that they're alright, and when she says they better come back, it grows into a full grin.
"Don't worry. We'll look after each other." She confirms with a nod, and turns to move. Hers and Rena's eyes meet.
"Not a chance." She agrees. "Not after all the trouble we went through movin' in."
And in response to Rena... Trevor makes a decision. Anita offers him a nod.
"Hey, no problem. Honestly, that'd be kind of the ideal outcome..." She says with a nod.
They make it to the hangar - but they're far from the only ones. Angelo, Alto, Banagher... Zinnerman, Marida, and Mineva, too.
It'd be great if she could stop and appreciate it, but they have a job to do. And then there's that voice, signifying obvious danger... Well, at least Rena's with her.
"Right!" Anita replies with a nod. Rena grabs on, and Anita hold on tight in return. She doesn't know what she has planned next, but she trusts her implicitly. A bullet sends them recoiling through space toward their machines. Once Rena's safely at the Gaia Gear Alpha, Anita extends her left arm outward toward the Svipul right next to it. Her hand launches from her wrist attached to a wire, grabbing hold of a handle on the Valkyrie's exterior. The wire then retracts, pulling Anita with it right to the Svipul. And as she flies...
"You should listen to Rena! She's got a good head on her shoulders!" Anita calls out.
<Pose Tracker> Alto Saotome has posed.
There's a lot going on. More people are making it to their mobile weapons, while even more are reaching the hangar to increase the intensity of the fighting. Of course it's going to be one of the main focuses of any in-ship fighting, given its importance. But that means Alto is just a tad bit busy to really babysit the dazed Banagher, focused as he is on shooting back at those trying to kill them.
That is, until Banagher says that name.
Alto turns to look at Banagher, confused for a moment... Then he realizes what Banagher is on about, "... Great... Just great. As if we don't have enough to deal with right now." Alto brings his phone up again and taps in a few commands.
Some distance away, sitting idly in fighter mode, the canopy of Alto's Messiah suddenly opens. The cockpit 'chair' then rockets up and outwards, transforming as it does so into the shape of a powered exoskeleton. It's Alto's EX-Gear. It quickly lands near Alto and opens up, allowing him to jump into it during a brief respite in gunfire.
Now a little more armored and safe from lethal bullet wounds, not to mention more maneuverable in zero-g, Alto reaches for the large assault rifle attached to the exoskeleton and looks back at Banagher, "Go, I'll cover you." The suit's helmet folds down over Alto's head.
The EX-Gear's thrusters fire, sending Alto rocketing up into the air. It gives him a good firing line on a number of the Sleeves positions and he starts unloading towards them with the assault rifle. Alto's still wary about a lucky shot taking him out so he focuses on keeping as many pinned as possible rather than trying for the kill. Hopefully to buy enough time for Banagher and others to get to their machines.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight's smile doesn't look forced, though Rena will know that it is. "Yes," she says, and Enba in turn nods firmly, with certainty. "I won't let you down." They do mange a smile for Anita. Just because Anita is like that. "...I won't let you down, either. I owe you, after all." As if it were that simple; as if they didn't have their own debts to Eight, too, their own rasons to protect her. And Eight?
"Right. I'll be here, waiting for you," Eight says to Rena and Anita, and it's a promise. She looks to Trevor, too. "Thank you," she says.
Elsewhere, Tempo rushes with Roux, and to perhaps some surprise--he does not stop for wounded crew members this time. "Roux!" he says. "Here's where we part ways. I've got to get to the bridge."
She is all action, and she keeps going. So does he. He makes his way up, up, up...
Eight on the bridge starts getting on the intercom; places all over start to hear her voice as she begins coordinating the defense of the ship; given that the Sleeves are primarily withdrawing towards the hangar, some organization goes a long way. And back in engineering...
"Miss York," Lavhi's voice comes over the intercom to the bridge, "The ship's engines are secured and our power supplies are ready. Gravity is being restored in stages. Sectors..."
He doesn't mention that he's been shot. Yet. But the macronied Zentradi with him ensure that he's unintrrupted.
The voice comes. Eight and Licia look at each other at the same time, when they hear Leina. An end, once and for all...
"Captain," Licia starts, and Eight shakes her head. "We have to get everyone ready to deploy." Licia stares for a moment--and then nods. "Yes. I'll work on getting our bearings."
Itsuki is already seated at her station, on the ringer towards various weapons depots on the ship. Kall moves to sit at his own. "We've been sitting blind with all this," he grumbles.
Eight settles back into her chair, her heart still pounding.
"Pilots," Eight says over the intercom to the hangar. "...I know it's easier said than done. I know you've been through a lot in the past few minutes. But everyone who's able, I need you to get to your suits. We cannot leave Leina to return to them--or Banagher to fight alone. We'll secure the ship. You get out there and show them what Possibility is made of!"
Tempo Astelian strides onto the bridge. "Captain!" he says, and rushes to his station, "Discipline me later--I'm getting you a visual on the hangar!"
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Mineva watches as her speech, at least, serves a purpose as a distraction, giving Banagher time to get to safety... but the voiceless, angry words of Puru-1 sweep over her. She shudders. "No, Leina..."
"Maybe you're right. But even so... I'll die before I give up. On you, or on this world."
She forces herself to smile... but she looks at Marida with pride, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let me out. Do what you need to do... but I'm not leaving Leina behind."
<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.
Liam turns on the wall-mounted emergency beacon, just like he was trained. "Medical's coming," he says, to the injured Sleeves soldier. He notices her nameplate: Rernardo. She has a name now, in his mind. He plucks the gun out of the air, turns on the safety, and clips it through a belt carabiner opposite the other. "We'll get you back to your people."
'... Liam. It's okay now.'
Is it? Liam thinks, but doesn't say.
"I thought she'd killed you," he says, lowering his voice as he floats towards her. Globules of Lucine's blood still drift through the air. It was only for a moment, but a moment was all it took. He should get Renardo a compress. Liam reaches into the kit himself, pulls out an instant compress, and squeezes it to break the packets inside. He gently tosses it towards the wounded soldier--
'No.'
"Lucine," Liam says, his voice strained. He can see, all too vividly, what would've happened if Lucine had been a mere inch or so out of place. But she's right. Liam swallows, takes Lucine's hand, and kicks off into the hallway again. "Watch our six," he says, "and stay behind me."
Liam leads the way, kick after grip after kick, through the Ra Mari II. He comes across a Sleeves officer grappling a Ra Mari crewman, bashing his head against a bulkhead wall. Liam drops on him like a stooping falcon, and with a single, violent wrench, dislocates his shoulder. He calmly pulls the emergency call box lever as the man screams. He's pulled so many of those.
The hangar. Liam kicks forwards, and tucks into part of the repair scaffolding around a damaged MP Nu. Again, he takes the scene in with a trained observer's precision--Banagher, wounded, Alto, deeply upset, two Sleeves Mobile Suits facing each other. The captain of the Garancieres ordering--
Marida, Liam realizes, remembering her from Rena's potluck. The woman who looks like Puru-2's identical twin because they are identical, they're clone-sisters. He has walked into something dangerous, and has no idea how it will play out. All he can do is keep his body in front of Lucine and get the two of them to their machines before the Sleeves fire on them.
He listens. Tears bead up in his eyes, and he blinks them away. Only once Maria Cruz has finished speaking does he turn to Lucine. "Stay close. Liath Macha's berthed beside the Dianthus."
Liam kicks off. He rockets across the hangar bay, towards the CGUE II in a corner, all grey and black and white and silver. "BANAGHER!" Liam shouts, "MARIDA! WE'RE WITH YOU!" He flies. His machine draws closer, closer, his hands close around a maneuvering lever built into the right arm's armor.
And a cold voice trails ice down his spine. Liam seizes up, his head pounding with familiar pressure. "Leina," he chokes out, though she can't hear him. "Leina, stop--!" He doesn't want to fight her. He remembers the sweet, endlessly-determined young woman who talked Domon down for him, who told him about how she'd suffered as a captive of Glemy Toto. A young woman pitted against another young woman, who was like him.
And Liam remembers another young person whose life was cut short by an electrical surge he helped cause. He can't--
Liam's eyes fall on the form of the Dianthus, in the berth next to Liath Macha. He hadn't asked for that, but the hangar techs... had their own ideas.
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
Marida looks back at Mineva, hesitating a bit before moving over to the side.
"Alright, then. Go. I'll be supporting you every step of the way."
<Pose Tracker> Mineva Lao Zabi has posed.
Mineva smiles again, and nods. "Thank you." She steps out of the cockpit, pushing off toward the gantry catwalk, looking out toward the Unicorn.
Banagher... Marida.... I'm with you.
She knows she can't put herself out there again. Not now. But as she pushes herself back toward the Alliance fighters, hearing Captain York's voice over the intercom, she remembers they won't be fighting alone--and she doesn't have to be beside Banagher to lend him her strength.
We'll all go home together, Leina.
<Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
Lucine stays close to Liam, following his body language for cues to keep back, or stay stapled to his shadow. She winces as Liam impacts with a Sleeves officer, but remains close, her yellow gaze remaining determined as she takes his hand again.
Closer.
"The signals are clearer. Banagher... and...." As they head closer, the other signal becomes clearer, though not as defined as Banagher's own, a testament to the other Newtype's resonance. The other signal seems to balance out Banagher's own unsteadiness, but to read into that any further would invite spectulation. "... It's... Alto." She's surprised, but another part of her isn't. This was the same person that supported her on her first mission, and one who Ranka had vouched for. All the pilots that had centered their operations adjacent or in the Nadesico had these points to them: varied and colorful, like the flowers in a garden.
Small bonds, supporting each other, rising up, becoming something more.
Keeping close to Liam's back to steady herself, Lucine gazes at Marida in quiet awe.
--!
That voice. No, that's not the other signal that was with Banagher, but something stronger. Another Newtype, powerful, familiar. Inspirational, once. An example of someone who could be that powerful, but also amiable, in a world that would look overwhelming to Lucine.
Those words shouldn't be coming from that person...
The part that startles her is Liam hears it too. No, several people do; not even those she had been able to detect as being Newtypes.
And it's as disturbing for them as it is for her.
Looking up towards the Dianthus as they jump up to get to their suits, Lucine still holds Liam's hand, feeling his hesitation. The weight of her hand leaves his, centering instead on one shoulder as she curls around into Liam's field of vision. Her face presses close to his--
With her shoulder length hair half undone in the earlier violence, it falls around her like they were underwater. Like she was a a mermaid, kissing a drowning sailor, passing that breath of life back into their lungs. But, it's as much for her as it is for Liam's own sake, something Liam would definitely feel as her lips press against his.
Then, it's over, Lucine pushing from Liam to get access to the Dianthus's opening cockpit.
Soon after, as Lucine gains access to her intercom, Alto will hear her voice in his headset. < ".... I didn't hear what you said to him, but... Thank you for being there for Banagher, Alto." > The need to thank him overcame her need to remain quiet; there had been moments before that she had warned Alto, and Ryoko, and Hikaru, of things she shouldn't have known about. This will just have to be another one of those moments.
And for once, it's not a warning.
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
The Krake rounds upon the Unicorn, upon Alto and Banagher. Its mono-eye focuses in. He needs to evacuate. But he has one shot. Just one good shot...!
The Zulu swings its assault rifle up, barrel glowing a crackling green of accumulating particles.
"You've ruined EVERYTHING--"
It's seconds before the Krake can squeeze that trigger that the Kshatriya CRASHES into the large, violet Mobile Suit. The impact is enough to knock Angelo backwards in his seat with a confused, aggravated cry of, "Wha--gnah--!" as his mobile weapon is -pinned- to the ground. Before it can raise its gun-arm, the Kshatriya's holding it fast, at an angle where Angelo simply cannot get a clear shot.
"You--?! How dare you--!" begins Angelo, incensed -- before that familiar voice begins to speak. Violet eyes widen in surprise... and then narrow.
"You." His voice is a flat, seething thing, like a tempest raging beneath a surface of false calm. "You Zabis are all the sa--GAH--!"
Angelo's struggling against the Kshatriya comes to a brief end with the application of greater pressure. And all he can do is seethe, until...
Marida. Open your cockpit.
The cockpit hisses open, as if by reflex. Angelo blinks --
But doesn't hesitate to swing the Krake Zulu's gun up with its newfound freedom, pointing the barrel at that opened cockpit.
"You Zabis, Always talking about our great futures while we suffer NOW! You're as responsible as the Federation for the hell we're in!"
He holds them at gunpoint now -- now, at least, he can afford to let Zinnerman handle his own people. His own mess. Just like Eight and hers. And just like Eight...
I'm making my choice. I'm going to protect the Princess at all costs, and if you stand in my way, you're an enemy.
Marida Cruz... This will be my final order.
Listen to your heart, and I will be there for you, my daughter.
-Just like Eight-...
"... Cruz... Zinnerman...!!"
The thrusters of the Krake ignite with a sudden spike of thrust in the apex of all this, as if its pilot reached some unseen breaking point. The force is enough to -KNOCK- into the Kshatriya and reassert the Krake upright, mono-eye flaring with life as it turns on Suberoa in the distance, its pilot's voice cracking with a mix of rage and betrayal.
"You, of all people! After what you've seen! You... you, the Zabis, Aznable, all of you are always like this! Weak! Irresponsible! Selfish!!"
The particle gun on the Krake's larboard side ratchets itself horizontal, before LAUNCHING like a battering ram, CRUSHING into the wall next to Zinnerman with shaking force that tilts its barrel down on him.
"That's why we need him -- that's why we need power that transcends human nature--!"
Transcends all of their rotten, filthy corruption--
"That's why we"I"need the Colonel! Why do all of you refuse to understand that--!"
But the barrel, despite its crackling, never fires upon Zinnerman. Another feint, just like in the bridge. To distract from the way that -second- particle barrel swings out in front of the Krake, primed with a payload of particle barrels --
And FIRES.
In the vacuum of space, the sight of hangar doors on the Ra Mari II beginning to glow molten orange before BURSTING apart in a stream of pulsating green energy is completely and utterly silent.
Within, though, past the howl of an absolute vacuum trying to suck everything away in the few seconds before blast shields can assert themselves...
You have to stop this! Listen to them! They're--they're your allies! You've got to let go of this!
"... Allies...? Hah. Hah!"
Angelo Sauper's voice carries through it all. Contemptuous. But tired. Like someone indulging in a private joke that only makes them weary, anymore.
"They're no allies of mine. Not anymore."
There's a voice. A familiar sensation. But Angelo ignores it -- no. He actively -blocks it out- from his heart, even as the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end from too close a brush. The Krake's thrusters engage as it launches for those forcibly opened door, Particle cannons snapping back towards it as a host of Geara Zulus launch just behind. So many of them... but not all. A handful are pinned down by Alto's EX-Gear before they can make it to a Zulu. Several simply never made it to the hangar, alive or dead. And the rest...
... the rest...
"They're filth, just like the rest of you."
They've lost too much to this damn ship.
No. More.
Trevor Teach (Trevor) has paged Angelo Sauper and Eight York with, 'Hey so do you mind if I have my giant robot block up that hole in the hull '
Eight York (Eight) has paged Trevor Teach and Angelo Sauper with, 'It's a hangar door so people may want to fly through it first, but if Angelo's fine with that I am!w'
<Pose Tracker> Rena Lancaster has posed.
Rena pays a last glance to Anita, as she sees her rocket away -- literally, on her wired hand -- and then she pulls herself into the cockpit of the Gaia Gear Alpha. She slams the hatch shut, with a click.
And a voice echoes in her mind.
Her brown eyes close. She exhales through clenched teeth. "Leina..." she says. "I'm not losing you again. Just hang on!"
The eyes of the Gaia Gear Alpha flash to life, glowing a brilliant gold. Then, motes of green light burst out from the white Mobile Suit, as it starts forward -- even as the hole torn into the side begins pulling debris out with it. Rena looks at the Krake Zulu.
"If that's how you feel..." Rena says, before her eyes narrow. "...then we're going to stop you, before you can hurt anyone else!"
The wing binders flare to lift; the thruster nozzles shimmer, before light begins to glow behind them. "I read you, Ra Mari II. Rena Lancaster... Gaia Gear Alpha!"
"LAUNCHING!"
<Pose Tracker> Trevor Teach has posed.
War is hell. It's a phrase that gets thrown around a lot. Out on the rim, it's not like they don't get conflict on the regular, but there, you throw in with your posse and stick with them through thick and thin. Generally speaking, as long as you've got their back, they've got yours. And though it is what many would consider to be lawless, the renegades and vagabonds of the Belt still had their own rules- systems in place that made sure some semblance of order was maintained in the slums and hollowed out old mining colonies within which so many people eked out meager existences. Fights were rarely about ideology, resources, sure-- who gets to eat, who gets salvage rights over disputed wrecks, the like. Occasionally you'd have bounties, or someone would catch the space madness and need to be dealt with.
But-- to have to take a stand on something as ephemeral as philosophy is something else entirely.
The animosity, the animus of decades of armed conflict, it has bred something that, even with all his time spent in the inner system, he still does not fully understand. All Trevor knows, by the time he reaches the Hangar, is that this entire thing, this 'mutiny', feels so very, very pointless. He's made his choice. The people he's chosen to protect are at his side when he arrives. But the look of betrayal so many of those other Sleeves when they saw him with Rena and the others--
Of course, they'd think, he never really belonged. Of course, he was just a mercenary from the belt. How could he ever understand their fight? He was so oppressed that he didn't even know what 'freedom' or 'spacenoid pride' meant or why it was so important to fight for.
That was true. He didn't. Not in the way they knew it. There were casualties, gunfights that were ultimately unavoidable. But some of them--
Some of them just looked sad, betrayed, tired.
He arrives silently as the dueling voices of Leina Ashta and Marida Cruz resonate in his mind and ears. But it isn't until Angelo speaks-- and lets that vitriol and hatred flow freely from his lips that he properly reacts. Trevor takes in a breath and slowly releases it. "...I don't get it," he says, finally. "I really don't. 'Harmony,' 'human evolution.' What is that even supposed to mean? But... A future of more of this just sounds pointless. So."
Amidst the hellscape playing out in the hangar, the forming, screaming vacuum following the flash of particle cannon fire. Trevor turns and looks into the distance. No, towards one machine in particular. He focuses, reaching out, reaching deep, until-- Isadore's visor flares. Autonomous commands surge through the computer systems controlling the restraints and gantries holding it in place. "I came all this way to keep this crap from dragging everyone at home into all of it. I stayed because of the people and things I found. And--"
Fundamental circuitry is subverted and manipulated. The cranes shift to allow Isadore to rise-- then others further away-- closer to Angelo's new exit-- release nearby containers, ruined machines and transports, all being dragged towards the gap in the ship's hull. Its wings spread as it takes flight, rushing after the Krake and its Geara Zulu accompaniment, "--Now because of some 'ideological dispute,' I have to kill some of them. Damn," he shakes his head slowly, "That's messed up. But at least--"
"I know I don't want to work for anyone who writes his comrades off just for standing on the other side." Isadore hurls itself into the opening-- and stretches its limbs out. Junk and flotsam slam into its back, gathering into a veritable wall of scrap that forms a loose seal around the hole in the hull, giving automated repair systems the time they need to do what they have to do... And for the other pilots to get to their machines.
For now, Isadore...
...Is a door
<Pose Tracker> Anita Rosetta has posed.
A smile from Enba... Anita nods. She has every bit of trust in them, too - they're not one to give their word (or smiles) lightly. That's all she needs to know everyone will be okay back here. Eight gets a nod too - and then, she's off.
-
In the present, Anita settles into the cockpit of the Svipul, getting herself equipped. And as she does, she hears Eight's voice speaking to all of them. A grin crosses her face.
"You know it. We'll see this through." Anita replies with a nod. Rena launches, and so... "Anita Rosetta, XVF-25I Svipul... on the way!"
As always, she's right there with her.
<Pose Tracker> Alto Saotome has posed.
More and more mobile weapons are beginning to come to life, moving through the hangar for the exit, some even wrestling with each other within. Though thankfully no one's taken a shot yet, keenly aware of just how much devestation it could cause to both sides. Still, the traffic puts Alto in a bit of a dangerous situation, as for all the armor his EX-Gear provides against personal weapons, a collision with even a relatively slowly moving machine of war is likely to injure him and send him tumbling. A higher speed collision...
So as his cover fire appears to have accomplished its goal as much as it's going to, Alto lets up. He turns his focus to his own survival now, the EX-Gear's thrusters kicking in once more to send him flying towards his Variable Fighter.
With a little fine maneuvering, the EX-Gear lowers down into the Messiah's cockpit, transforming around Alto as it does so. It settles into position, once more taking the form of the fighter's seat and control system. The canopy begins to lower once more as Alto starts rapidly flicking switches and pressing buttons to bring his machine to life.
As Alto prepares for take off, Lucine's voice filters in through the radio in his helmet. He had of course recognized the Dianthus in the hangar so is not surprised that Lucine was here. Still it's good to know she's survived the firefights.
As he's busy flipping switches, Alto replies back to her, <"I called him an idiot."> Technically he said more than that. But that was the important part! He continues, <"Sometimes a slap back to reality is what someone needs to anchor themselves.">
The Messiah's engines come to life, thrusters lifting it up off the hangar floor as its landing gear fold upwards into its frame. The fighter begins to rotate towards the hangar exit, Alto radioing as he prepares to launch, <"Ra Mari II, this is Skull-4 with SMS. It's a little short notice but I think a defense contract is in order, no?"> The Messiah finally settles with its nose pointing towards the hangar exit. Alto finishes, <"We can work out an appropriate payment later. Launching!"> He pushes the throttle far forward.
The engine nozzles of the VF-25F narrow, quickly burning brightly as the fighter accelerates sharply, rocketing forward and out into space.
<Pose Tracker> Liam 7-020 has posed.
Lucine's hand grips Liam's shoulder. She curls around him, presses her lips to his. For a moment, they simply float there, together, and Liam feels hope again.
They push away. Liam hoists himself into Liath Macha's open cockpit, and starts up the preflights as he pulls out his helmet and flightsuit. Angelo Sauper is on the verge of cooking off out there. Liam has seen how incandescently angry the young man can get when there's a truce in place, and he's not allowed to hurt anyone. Now, that truce is broken. He'd tried to find common ground--but now, Angelo's retreated to the safety of his idol's shadow.
Bright green light washes through the hangar. "<That bootlicking bastard!>" Liam growls to the other Alliance pilots, emotion piercing through the veneer of his training again. "<He's blown the doors open!>" As he seals his helmet to his normal suit's collar, another wave of pressure rolls over him, reminding him Angelo isn't the only threat on the field. The engines power up. A more physical wave of pressure starts rocking the CGUE-IIL against its restraints, until--
"<Trevor...?>" Liam breathes, as his rearview cam catches Isadore doing its damnedest to plug the hole.
He stares at what he's seeing. Is Trevor making a miracle, like Banagher did...?
And just in time, too. Cables and hoses snap free from Liath Macha's frame. The gantries pull away. The Mobile Suit stands, and follows the Gaia Gear Alpha and Svipul. It leaps into the darkness, jets igniting in a blaze of light. "<Ra Mari II, this is Liam, Pilot 7-020, ZGMF-575-F CGUE IIL Liath Macha.>" Subject number, whole unit designation, just like he was taught, in solidarity with Marida and Leina. "<Moving to engage. We're going to clean up this mess and bring Leina home.>"
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Rena and Anita. Eight can count on them, she knows. ...As she apparently can on Alto. Enba Rezza is the one to answer this one, "Acknowledged, Skull-4. Appropriate payment will be negotiated later." Then there are others. Liam, for once.
"Acknowledged," Eight says over the radio. "Good luck out there."
Then... "Shit," Tempo says then, and Eight is surprised engh to hear him swear that she looks to him with a blink. Has Roux been that bad an influence??
"Mr. Astelian?" Eight presses, and Tempo, having put the hangar display on widescreen--in time for them to catch Angelo's departure, and Trevor's actions--says, "We've got company, Captain. A lot of it. Three battleships coming in hot."
The bridge crew all look at one another, suddenly, and Eight feels the hair at the back of her neck stand up.
"...One is the General Revvil, ma'am. It's a Federation team."
"Gh," Licia Chovan says at the helm, "Now!?"
Eight settles back into her chair. "Battle stations," she says, fingers settling over the place where she cracked her own armrest console just a little while ago.
"All pilots be warned. This fight is getting a lot bigger. Three Federation warships inbound!"
Eight is tense, on the bridge. But what else can they do, but go forward?
<Pose Tracker> Marida Cruz has posed.
The knock from Angelo pushes Marida back into her seat, quickly closing the cockpit back up as the hangar is breached. The Kshatriya hums back to life, its quad wings stretching out as she begins the launch sequence.
<"'Garencieres Jr.,' this is Marida. I'm deploying the Kshatriya.">
She turns to Zinnerman and Mineva, imprinting them into her vision. "I'm going to do my best out there, so you do your best here."
The Kshatriya lights up, and shoots out of the hangar and into the fire.
<Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
Chaos. Fury. A ruptured door, and nobody out there in a damn Normal suit! (Including her, but at least she's in a cockpit.) It's not the end. The Federation. Three warships.
Roux can hear what's happening. She breathes in; she breathes out. The panoramic linear cockpit comes to life as the hatch closes; the familiar cello-pizzicato notes of the start-up sequence.
"Hey Eight," Roux says. "This is Roux. Sorry about this. ...I'll try to make it up to you, alright??"
One hand goes on the throttle: "Strike Zeta, launching!"