Post by aleksei on Dec 30, 2009 23:38:46 GMT -5
White Base. The scene inside the Pegasus-class ship was chaos. In the hangar, spaces were allotted to the Hirsch's Aqua GM and Gajandra's GM Diver as they sailed above the Pacific Ocean to safety.
"The third slot won't be necessary, we lost one." Hirsch said to one of the few mechanics still alive.
"And the Don Escargot?" the mechanic asked.
"Oh, we lost that one too," another mechanic interjected.
"Jean...Pierre...," sighed Hirsch as he lowered himself to the floor from the cockpit.
His gamble to storm the shore and distract the Zeeks so that White Base escaped cost Hirsch his most valuable pilot, Mar Catalan. Grasping his helmet, he thought of the young Argentine and her last moments of life. He wondered if she was killed instantly, and weighed that against the possibility of dying in the ocean.
It seemed like Gajandra pondered that as well, "Her lungs could have filled up with water as her cockpit caved in from the pressure. Knowing Mar, she would've panicked and delayed her death. At least she died with honor on land, Hirsch."
Hirsch took a deep breath, then spoke, "It's my fault, we never should have gone ashore. It's not what we do, Gaj. We don't storm fucking beaches!" He kicked a pile of junk as he stormed out of the hangar.
"Where are you going, Hirsch?" yelled Gajandra from a distance.
"I'm writing a letter to the twins' father, he needs to know their sons fought bravely in battle."
Gajandra smiled, "You write in French now?"
Hirsch looked back as he cursed Gajandra, "I'll manage, you ass."
He could not believe Gajandra's lack of sympathy, maybe it was his way of dealing with day or perhaps he just knew war's realities far better than the captain.
The corridors of White Base were still littered with dead bodies.
Are they just going to leave them there or will they dump them all in the sea and feed the sharks?
In comparison Gajandra was certainly right, Mar died honorably. As he made his way to the war room, Hirsch could smell the blood splattered across the walls. Who knows how long it would take before the crew scrubbed it off. Although the battle was over, the carnage ensued on board the ship - the longer blood and dead bodies remained the more it would psychologically damage everyone on board.
Upon reaching the war room, Hirsch saluted Captain Bright who was surprisingly in a cheerful mood.
Why is everyone fucking smiling? Do they not see the damn bodies sprawled out in the corridors?
"Congratulations, Corporal Munchek," Bright said as he shook his hand.
"Sir?" Hirsch was confused.
"You've been promoted for your valiant defense of this ship. Thanks to your Krakens we achieved tactical victory, now have some drink..." Bright ordered, pouring whiskey in a glass and handing it to the pilot.
"Captain Bright, I am sorry, but I cannot say that I am in such a celebratory mood," said Hirsch disparagingly.
"Oh?" replied Bright.
Hirsch put down the glass, "I lost three good pilots, excellent pilots actually."
"Don't despair, there will be others to fill their spots. Not from White Base though, I need every man I can get. Here," Bright handed a typed up paper with the seal of Jaburo and relayed high command's message. "Though saddened that you have to leave us, I am happy to report that you are off to Rio de Janeiro; you have been selected to man another experimental Gundam unit. Congratulations once more, Corporal."
In that instant, the pilot forgot about Mar and the stench of death aboard the ship, and pondered the possibilities that lay before him with a grin on his face. The war was moving in new directions, certainly Hirsch was moving with it. He swore he never felt so alive.
"The third slot won't be necessary, we lost one." Hirsch said to one of the few mechanics still alive.
"And the Don Escargot?" the mechanic asked.
"Oh, we lost that one too," another mechanic interjected.
"Jean...Pierre...," sighed Hirsch as he lowered himself to the floor from the cockpit.
His gamble to storm the shore and distract the Zeeks so that White Base escaped cost Hirsch his most valuable pilot, Mar Catalan. Grasping his helmet, he thought of the young Argentine and her last moments of life. He wondered if she was killed instantly, and weighed that against the possibility of dying in the ocean.
It seemed like Gajandra pondered that as well, "Her lungs could have filled up with water as her cockpit caved in from the pressure. Knowing Mar, she would've panicked and delayed her death. At least she died with honor on land, Hirsch."
Hirsch took a deep breath, then spoke, "It's my fault, we never should have gone ashore. It's not what we do, Gaj. We don't storm fucking beaches!" He kicked a pile of junk as he stormed out of the hangar.
"Where are you going, Hirsch?" yelled Gajandra from a distance.
"I'm writing a letter to the twins' father, he needs to know their sons fought bravely in battle."
Gajandra smiled, "You write in French now?"
Hirsch looked back as he cursed Gajandra, "I'll manage, you ass."
He could not believe Gajandra's lack of sympathy, maybe it was his way of dealing with day or perhaps he just knew war's realities far better than the captain.
The corridors of White Base were still littered with dead bodies.
Are they just going to leave them there or will they dump them all in the sea and feed the sharks?
In comparison Gajandra was certainly right, Mar died honorably. As he made his way to the war room, Hirsch could smell the blood splattered across the walls. Who knows how long it would take before the crew scrubbed it off. Although the battle was over, the carnage ensued on board the ship - the longer blood and dead bodies remained the more it would psychologically damage everyone on board.
Upon reaching the war room, Hirsch saluted Captain Bright who was surprisingly in a cheerful mood.
Why is everyone fucking smiling? Do they not see the damn bodies sprawled out in the corridors?
"Congratulations, Corporal Munchek," Bright said as he shook his hand.
"Sir?" Hirsch was confused.
"You've been promoted for your valiant defense of this ship. Thanks to your Krakens we achieved tactical victory, now have some drink..." Bright ordered, pouring whiskey in a glass and handing it to the pilot.
"Captain Bright, I am sorry, but I cannot say that I am in such a celebratory mood," said Hirsch disparagingly.
"Oh?" replied Bright.
Hirsch put down the glass, "I lost three good pilots, excellent pilots actually."
"Don't despair, there will be others to fill their spots. Not from White Base though, I need every man I can get. Here," Bright handed a typed up paper with the seal of Jaburo and relayed high command's message. "Though saddened that you have to leave us, I am happy to report that you are off to Rio de Janeiro; you have been selected to man another experimental Gundam unit. Congratulations once more, Corporal."
In that instant, the pilot forgot about Mar and the stench of death aboard the ship, and pondered the possibilities that lay before him with a grin on his face. The war was moving in new directions, certainly Hirsch was moving with it. He swore he never felt so alive.