Post by Threid on Sept 8, 2010 4:31:56 GMT -5
I just need to get through this. Kyle was fighting to keep Nora out of his head enough to focus on battle tactics, but it had been difficult, lately. He'd been running almost on autopilot the past few days, after Karol's death, following orders to move here, attack there, repair this, and target that. War had claimed everyone who had even fought as a member of The Beam Team; he would have to fight hard to ensure that The Beam Team and its memories did not die with him at the impressive Zeon fortress.
The war was all but won, at this point. Kyle wondered why both sides hadn't already negotiated a treaty. A Baoa Qu was impressive. The Grand Fleet was impressive. The gigantic battle that was set to ensue would claim the lives of many, but it wouldn't change how the war would end. The Federation's war machine, slow to start, had been gradually picking up steam, and it would steamroll the Zeon resistance eventually, at this point. If A Baoa Qu did not fall to this wave of attacks, then it would surely fall to the next.
He would fight hard, to ensure the survival of those he fought with - Aurem mostly, since he had someone to return to - and himself, for Nora. He'd written her, telling her to wait for him, that he was almost done fighting in space, and that he'd return soon. The letter was full of hope and conjecture, and almost entirely unlike his previous letters. He normally shied away from making promises of any kind, especially when he knew that he might not be able to follow through on them, but it had seemed like the best way that he could communicate to Nora how hard he would fight to return to her.
The Beam Team was a team no longer - not in the traditional sense, anyway. Kyle carried memories of those he had served with; their contributions to the man that Kyle had become were definite, and their pictures covered a dedicated portion of his Ez8. The Mini Nova Sky had certainly come a long way, from the GMPGT, to the upgraded Ez8, to the space-enabled model, to the refit that allowed it to operate the GM Sniper II rifle. He had grown as a pilot, too. He wasn't the best - not by a long shot - but he was in the top 10th percentile, he estimated, and that was pretty damn good for a Federation pilot.
He was set to fight with the rest of the 42nd, along with the Reed and Noah divisions of the EFSF Grand Fleet. It was comforting fighting alongside familiar faces like Nigel, Aurem and Thorvald. These were men he looked up to, had served with for months, and had learned from. They had not died yet, and he didn't think they meant to. Aurem would continue to live, for Arieta's sake. She was still in a coma, last he heard, but the possibility of a recovery was still there. Aurem wouldn't give up until there was no hope - that was the kind of man he was. Thorvald would continue to fight, too - there was little doubt about that.
He had to do his best. This was the homestretch. It was the end. All would be decided here, at A Baoa Qu. If they won, Zeon would almost certainly be forced to surrender. And if he could play a part, however small, in bringing the war to a quicker end, he would do so wholeheartedly. He would fight bravely, but not recklessly. Nora and Arieta, Madelaine, Tybalt, Gerard, Tack and Flack, Karol, Kelly - they all deserved at least that much.
The war was all but won, at this point. Kyle wondered why both sides hadn't already negotiated a treaty. A Baoa Qu was impressive. The Grand Fleet was impressive. The gigantic battle that was set to ensue would claim the lives of many, but it wouldn't change how the war would end. The Federation's war machine, slow to start, had been gradually picking up steam, and it would steamroll the Zeon resistance eventually, at this point. If A Baoa Qu did not fall to this wave of attacks, then it would surely fall to the next.
He would fight hard, to ensure the survival of those he fought with - Aurem mostly, since he had someone to return to - and himself, for Nora. He'd written her, telling her to wait for him, that he was almost done fighting in space, and that he'd return soon. The letter was full of hope and conjecture, and almost entirely unlike his previous letters. He normally shied away from making promises of any kind, especially when he knew that he might not be able to follow through on them, but it had seemed like the best way that he could communicate to Nora how hard he would fight to return to her.
The Beam Team was a team no longer - not in the traditional sense, anyway. Kyle carried memories of those he had served with; their contributions to the man that Kyle had become were definite, and their pictures covered a dedicated portion of his Ez8. The Mini Nova Sky had certainly come a long way, from the GMPGT, to the upgraded Ez8, to the space-enabled model, to the refit that allowed it to operate the GM Sniper II rifle. He had grown as a pilot, too. He wasn't the best - not by a long shot - but he was in the top 10th percentile, he estimated, and that was pretty damn good for a Federation pilot.
He was set to fight with the rest of the 42nd, along with the Reed and Noah divisions of the EFSF Grand Fleet. It was comforting fighting alongside familiar faces like Nigel, Aurem and Thorvald. These were men he looked up to, had served with for months, and had learned from. They had not died yet, and he didn't think they meant to. Aurem would continue to live, for Arieta's sake. She was still in a coma, last he heard, but the possibility of a recovery was still there. Aurem wouldn't give up until there was no hope - that was the kind of man he was. Thorvald would continue to fight, too - there was little doubt about that.
He had to do his best. This was the homestretch. It was the end. All would be decided here, at A Baoa Qu. If they won, Zeon would almost certainly be forced to surrender. And if he could play a part, however small, in bringing the war to a quicker end, he would do so wholeheartedly. He would fight bravely, but not recklessly. Nora and Arieta, Madelaine, Tybalt, Gerard, Tack and Flack, Karol, Kelly - they all deserved at least that much.