Post by Threid on Aug 5, 2010 6:17:50 GMT -5
Kyle's quarters were warm and cozy, but he shivered as he thought of their most recent engagement with Zeon. The battle with the Zeon Expeditionary Force had certainly taken its toll on the 42nd Brigade. Most units had lost at least 1 member, and some had been obliterated altogether; again, The Beam Team was no exception. Karol had waited in the hangar for hours after Kelly failed to report back from the battle, just sitting in the cockpit of his GM Command. "Maybe she's just late. She'll catch up." The two had started entering and exiting their mobile suits together a few weeks back, and it had quickly become one of their rituals. Kyle hung around in the hangar for a few minutes, but left when it was clear that Kelly wasn't coming back. He doubted he'd be able to do or say much to help the guy.
Losing someone special was one of the things you just had to get used to in war. One couldn't really prepare for it; the suddenness of the separation seemed almost as violent as the act of killing itself. Kyle thought back to when Tybalt and Madelaine had died, and the mobile suit that had killed them. He still wondered who the pilot was, and what his motivations were. Probably just another guy like me, or Karol. The thought didn't comfort him much; if wars were fought by people just like him and Karol, for the same reasons, then every death deserved to be mourned, and Kyle did not have the time, inclination or energy to mourn every death.
Statistically, though, there are probably only a few men of our caliber actually fighting. Kyle's entrance scores had been excellent, placing him in the top 1% of all applicants to the EFGF - and while 1% of thousands was a large number, Kyle was fairly confident that he was in the top half of that 1% - maybe in the top quarter. He was a skilled pilot, the commander of The Beam Team, and war survivor. And he was fighting for a lot of the right reasons, as far as he could tell. He doubted that many fighting men were like him, in those regards. Now, those were comforting thoughts. Kyle slumped into his chair, and began browsing a few of his favorite scientific journals, searching for articles of interest. He'd had a lot more free time since he'd come to the realization that he could trust Orange Base's mechanics to fix his space-modified Ez8. He'd inspect it later, but he didn't expect to find anything wrong; he hadn't so far, after all.
After scanning the science and finding nothing of earth-shattering significance, he moved on to Earth news. One article in particular caught his eye: "Chaos Closed in Vermillion!" Aside from the awful "case closed" pun, the name of the city - Vermillion - sounded familiar somehow. The whole city had erupted in violence a few weeks ago, after a group of militant rebels had declared for the Principality. A couple weeks ago, the Federation had come in with a couple GMs to root out the militants, and the ensuing battle had wiped out most of the city, along with its inhabitants. It was old news, but the details had only recently been cleared for release to the press. It was hauntingly similar to what had happened to him and his family - maybe that's why it seemed so familiar.
No. Horror filled him as he realized. That's where Nora was stationed when she last wrote to me. Nora, who had been his best friend during his time at the University. Nora, who had invited him to dance, even though he hadn't known how. Nora, who had written to him faithfully all these months. He realized that his heart was racing, and he ordered it to slow down. It was too soon to jump to any conclusions; there were too many unanswered questions. When was the last time I wrote to her? What was the date of her last letter? Was her facility in one of the destroyed sections? His head spun. She had not mentioned any conflict in her last letter - of that, he was certain. Surely, she was alright. She couldn't have been... She wasn't...
He couldn't finish the thoughts; he was too busy. For the next 3 hours, he was too busy, trying to glean her exact location in the city from her letters, researching the entire conflict via independent news sites, satellite imagery, and online encyclopedias, scanning his mail for a letter, or a clue from a letter, that he might have missed. He found nothing that gave him definitive proof, one way or the other. He felt drained, and it frightened him. He had studied for hours longer than this and learned much more, with far fewer ill effects. This time, he had learned nothing, and he was exhausted. He needed to take a break.
He wanted to speak to Aurem, or Nigel - they knew about loss and uncertainty. Kyle was certain they would be able to say something to reassure him. Well, maybe not say anything - Aurem didn't talk much - but just having them around would be a comfort. He could not bother Nigel; the man was busy enough on a normal day, and today, of all days, would be an especially bad day to seek his counsel regarding a personal issue. He hadn't run into Aurem lately; he'd been scarce ever since he left Arieta's hospital room. Thorvald certainly didn't seem like the sort of person he could confide in; he'd probably give him a stinky fish or alcohol, thinking to comfort him. There was no one for him to run to.
Comfort. That's what he was seeking - not facts, just reassurances and a little sympathetic company. He thought back to Karol in his GM Command, alone in the hangar, despite the flurry of post-battle activity that was still in full swing. And suddenly, he was not just Kyle Slater, uncertain about his precious Nora; he was Corporal Slater, commander of The Beam Team. He could do nothing about Nora today, one way or another, but he could be The Beam Team's commander, and he would. His quick walk gradually changed from frantic to confident as he made his way to the hangar.
It was his hardest debriefing to date. He remembered Gerard, and ordered Karol out of the cockpit. Bigby's memory recommended the ship's common room/bar. Madelaine's memory helped him be gentle, not soft, and tough, but not distant. Tybalt helped him to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and to be careful with his word choice. Karol was not a weak man, and managed to pull himself together fairly quickly, which surprised Kyle, until he remembered that Karol had already lost someone to the war - his older brother.
The debriefing itself was a bare-bones affair, covering only the essentials, and those only sparingly. They were both tired, and both craved solitude. They departed with tired salutes, feeling better than they had before they'd started, though mostly unconscious of why. Karol had professed his certainty that Kelly would come back, and Kyle had not argued, thinking of Nora. She has to be alive. She is alive. Sometimes when there was no certainty, man had to create his own until he learned the truth.
It has been far too long since I wrote to Nora. Abruptly, he turned to his writing desk to grab a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. He soon lost himself in his thoughts, and in the scritch-scratching of the pencil on paper.
Losing someone special was one of the things you just had to get used to in war. One couldn't really prepare for it; the suddenness of the separation seemed almost as violent as the act of killing itself. Kyle thought back to when Tybalt and Madelaine had died, and the mobile suit that had killed them. He still wondered who the pilot was, and what his motivations were. Probably just another guy like me, or Karol. The thought didn't comfort him much; if wars were fought by people just like him and Karol, for the same reasons, then every death deserved to be mourned, and Kyle did not have the time, inclination or energy to mourn every death.
Statistically, though, there are probably only a few men of our caliber actually fighting. Kyle's entrance scores had been excellent, placing him in the top 1% of all applicants to the EFGF - and while 1% of thousands was a large number, Kyle was fairly confident that he was in the top half of that 1% - maybe in the top quarter. He was a skilled pilot, the commander of The Beam Team, and war survivor. And he was fighting for a lot of the right reasons, as far as he could tell. He doubted that many fighting men were like him, in those regards. Now, those were comforting thoughts. Kyle slumped into his chair, and began browsing a few of his favorite scientific journals, searching for articles of interest. He'd had a lot more free time since he'd come to the realization that he could trust Orange Base's mechanics to fix his space-modified Ez8. He'd inspect it later, but he didn't expect to find anything wrong; he hadn't so far, after all.
After scanning the science and finding nothing of earth-shattering significance, he moved on to Earth news. One article in particular caught his eye: "Chaos Closed in Vermillion!" Aside from the awful "case closed" pun, the name of the city - Vermillion - sounded familiar somehow. The whole city had erupted in violence a few weeks ago, after a group of militant rebels had declared for the Principality. A couple weeks ago, the Federation had come in with a couple GMs to root out the militants, and the ensuing battle had wiped out most of the city, along with its inhabitants. It was old news, but the details had only recently been cleared for release to the press. It was hauntingly similar to what had happened to him and his family - maybe that's why it seemed so familiar.
No. Horror filled him as he realized. That's where Nora was stationed when she last wrote to me. Nora, who had been his best friend during his time at the University. Nora, who had invited him to dance, even though he hadn't known how. Nora, who had written to him faithfully all these months. He realized that his heart was racing, and he ordered it to slow down. It was too soon to jump to any conclusions; there were too many unanswered questions. When was the last time I wrote to her? What was the date of her last letter? Was her facility in one of the destroyed sections? His head spun. She had not mentioned any conflict in her last letter - of that, he was certain. Surely, she was alright. She couldn't have been... She wasn't...
He couldn't finish the thoughts; he was too busy. For the next 3 hours, he was too busy, trying to glean her exact location in the city from her letters, researching the entire conflict via independent news sites, satellite imagery, and online encyclopedias, scanning his mail for a letter, or a clue from a letter, that he might have missed. He found nothing that gave him definitive proof, one way or the other. He felt drained, and it frightened him. He had studied for hours longer than this and learned much more, with far fewer ill effects. This time, he had learned nothing, and he was exhausted. He needed to take a break.
He wanted to speak to Aurem, or Nigel - they knew about loss and uncertainty. Kyle was certain they would be able to say something to reassure him. Well, maybe not say anything - Aurem didn't talk much - but just having them around would be a comfort. He could not bother Nigel; the man was busy enough on a normal day, and today, of all days, would be an especially bad day to seek his counsel regarding a personal issue. He hadn't run into Aurem lately; he'd been scarce ever since he left Arieta's hospital room. Thorvald certainly didn't seem like the sort of person he could confide in; he'd probably give him a stinky fish or alcohol, thinking to comfort him. There was no one for him to run to.
Comfort. That's what he was seeking - not facts, just reassurances and a little sympathetic company. He thought back to Karol in his GM Command, alone in the hangar, despite the flurry of post-battle activity that was still in full swing. And suddenly, he was not just Kyle Slater, uncertain about his precious Nora; he was Corporal Slater, commander of The Beam Team. He could do nothing about Nora today, one way or another, but he could be The Beam Team's commander, and he would. His quick walk gradually changed from frantic to confident as he made his way to the hangar.
It was his hardest debriefing to date. He remembered Gerard, and ordered Karol out of the cockpit. Bigby's memory recommended the ship's common room/bar. Madelaine's memory helped him be gentle, not soft, and tough, but not distant. Tybalt helped him to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and to be careful with his word choice. Karol was not a weak man, and managed to pull himself together fairly quickly, which surprised Kyle, until he remembered that Karol had already lost someone to the war - his older brother.
The debriefing itself was a bare-bones affair, covering only the essentials, and those only sparingly. They were both tired, and both craved solitude. They departed with tired salutes, feeling better than they had before they'd started, though mostly unconscious of why. Karol had professed his certainty that Kelly would come back, and Kyle had not argued, thinking of Nora. She has to be alive. She is alive. Sometimes when there was no certainty, man had to create his own until he learned the truth.
It has been far too long since I wrote to Nora. Abruptly, he turned to his writing desk to grab a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. He soon lost himself in his thoughts, and in the scritch-scratching of the pencil on paper.