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The massive Minvosky drives propelled White Base across the mighty Atlantic, its departure from Belfast less than cheery. The attack still left the crew perplexed, but everyone was back to their normal routine. The gunners oiled the guns, the mechanics tuned the mobile suits, and the bridge crew maintained a constant yellow alert. The tension wasn't extreme enough to interfere with basic operations or cause any real distress amongst the officers, but vast expanse of water in front of them only reminded them of the miles left untraveled. Water seemed to envelope them on all sides, and even though they'd seen land less than a day prior, they were all missing it. Mirai, especially. Being the only true helmsperson on board, she rarely got breaks. Her eyes were starting to defocus and blur. They watered and teared. She didn't know how much longer she could take it. Spying Kai lounging lazily behind the command chair, she turned to him. “Can you take over for a minute while I rest my eyes, Kai?” Kai stirred and looked surprised, even irritated. “No, sorry, Mirai. I have my own duties.” He uncrossed his arms and left the bridge, completely brushing her off. What a bastard, Mirai raged inwardly. She hoped Bright would hurry up with his rack time so he could get someone else to relieve her. After Kai left the bridge, he went directly to his quarters. Screw Guncannon. Screw Amuro and Hayato. Screw White Base. Belfast had left a sour taste in his mouth and he didn't want anything more to do with war. Though he knew enough about himself to recognize the lows from the highs--that sometimes he felt like crap, and sometimes he didn't--he knew that he wasn't just acting out. Something had changed in him. Before he could even pass Amuro's quarters, he looked up and saw a young female officer lurking by his door. She turned, surprised, and ran. “Hey! Wait!” Kai pushed on past his door and after her. He recognized that face and needed to know if she was some kind of saboteur. Not that he cared what really happened, but because the simple not knowing what bother him. She was fast, but Kai was slender and caught up to her in no time. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her around in an awkward, almost romantic motion. They came face to face. “It's you!” She clamored backwards, trying to get free. “What're you doing here?!” She was bewildered, but somehow calm. She clearly wasn't a soldier—she hadn't planned for any of this. She looked small and innocent and beautiful. Her eyes were watering.
“Never mind, hurry inside.” He ushered her inside his cabin, making she there were no observers.
“I see it,” said Underwood. His hands were clammy, but the wind helped aerate his sweaty civvies. Behind him in the copilot's chair of the biplane sat Werner. His face was placid. The mask of the perfect Aryan. He nodded a confirmation. They flew a stock 1930's-era biplane with pontoons. How Commander Char had commandeered such a craft was beyond the two subofficers, but currently that wasn't what was plaguing their subconscious. Thoughts of drowning, whether apparent or hidden deep under layers of military training, bit like frost into their hearts. The waters looked cold, and even though they knew they weren't completely empty, they, like the White Base's crew, held a great respect for it. “Send our distress call.” Underwood nodded gravely, starting to itch where the salty sweat had dried to him. He picked up his radio and began to speak harriedly into it. He didn't have to act. “Mayday, mayday. This is the fishing plane Spokane. We're running on the red. Fuel needed. Mayday, mayday. Please, someone respond.” Seconds stood on their ends, and the two men waited. Finally, the cool voice of a teenager responded. Both men were mildly confused, but played along. “This is the Federation battleship White Base, replying to your mayday. We see you on radar and direct you to stay course. We are due west of you.” “Copy. We will maintain course.” The men knew right where they were, and could already see White Base's sphinx-like shape appear over the waveline. It slowed so they could safely land within its giant arm-like hangars from the rear entrance. The plane skidded to a stop and the pilots felt a little at ease now that the water was out of view. They had been flying circles at that position for hours and needed a break. Before they could even dismount the antiquated plane, a small girl dressed in a pink Federation uniform, flanked by an even smaller man dressed the same, approached them. “Thank the mighty gods you were out here! We nearly crashed into the ocean! Oh, and I think our perpeller needs a little adjusting--probably something to do with the fuel intake. Might be why we're at zero!” Underwood barked all this out and ended with a nervous laugh. Werner prodded him with his meaty elbow to shut up. The girl simply nodded. “Our captain has instructed us to help you in any way. Sadly, we cannot adjust course, but we'd be happy to supply you with whatever you need. Are you hungry?” Werner stepped forward, his thick brow lightening a bit. “We're both very thirsty, miss.” She motioned them towards the aft door of the hangar. “The mess is in that direction. Help yourself.”
Both men smiled. “Thank you.”
Kai sat across from her on his bed, not knowing what words to use and how to use them. They both looked around, wondering where to begin. He knew she wasn't a Federation officer. He'd seen her selling flowers. Officers don't sell flowers. Plus, she looked scared and tired. And as far as he knew, they hadn't gotten any new crew. Had Revil sent someone to spy on them? She rustled his covers and shifted position, her pink skirt moving up her thigh. Kai was all ears (and eyes). “Your name is Kai, right? I looked you up in the manifest while I was hiding. I remember you from St. George's Market. You stood out somehow. And when I saw you again coming aboard...” The moment replayed in Kai's mind, and he suddenly saw her face as she pushed him aside that day. “...and I knew it was fate.” “What—what are you doing here? This ship only has one stop, and that's Jaburo. Were you hoping to go to America or something?” Kai had heard stories of immigrants pouring by the mother load into New York Harbor. Whenever that was, he didn't know. She buried her head in her hands and cried softly. Between sobs. “No, Kai.” She then began to unfold her pathetic story to him. She hadn't been so honest with anyone since her first boyfriend, Peter, had wanted to run away together and she had refused outright. Kai sat, not a single quip escaping his lips. He was seriously enthralled and, dare say, touched. He'd heard a lot of bullshit, crybaby stories since engaging in combat, but he'd never heard the human tale—the civilian tale. It had been all the same to him, and somehow he kept himself from thinking about by telling himself that people die in war, duh. But now that wasn't enough. “You're a Zeon spy? “ It felt silly saying it, since it had been so clearly alluded to. But he knew the consequences of harbor such a person and his smart-allicky nature was even enough to make him gloss over it. “I'm sorry, I don't have a choice. They'll die.” She was referring to her brother. Surely, they wouldn't die in the war, that had moved with White Base when they departed. No, she meant they'd starve. Ireland, as it was everywhere else, was suffering an economic depression. There were no jobs. “No. Don't apologize. It isn't your fault.” He touched too her hand in his, although he was nervous. “I was dragged into this thing, too. I never wanted to fight. I was living happily on Side 7 when they just came in and started shooting.” “You're from space?” She seemed to swoon. If there was one thing she had prayed for ever since her parents, it was to leave this dirtball and run off to the stars. Kai ran his hands through his hair, a redness forming on his cheeks. “Yeah. I didn't think for a million years I'd end up here. In fact, it's weird, but it's almost like fate---” A beeping interrupted their reverie. She took her hand back quickly and looked at her watch, it was almost time. “I have to go!”
Before he could ask what or why, she was out the door.
The two officers walked sidestep down the polished corridors, creating an eerie echo that disturbed Underwood, but didn't impede him. The mighty Federation weapon was crewed by little more than a skeleton crew of kids. Somehow that boosted his confidence. They'd win this war no problem if the Federation was already sending kids into battle. They passed the mess and spied another pink-clad woman coming toward them. She looked like she had been crying, but she gave them the signal. Without meeting gaze, she slipped them a note as she passed.
It was done. They had accomplished their mission. Now to jump ship and get it to the Commander without causing a scene. Werner glanced at Underwood who was smiling. He gave him a prod for good measure.
Char watched on the view screen as the biplane landed alongside the enormous ship tender. To his right, a stern subordinate alerted the crew to prepare for submersion as soon as the two were on board. They'd leave the plane on the surface where it would most likely get torn apart by waves and sunk. It saddened Char slightly that such a relic could be so easily discarded purely because it was wartime. Though, people still did such things during peacetime. It reminded Char of how humanity was ruining Terra with their complacency. “Have Werner and Underwood report to me in the debriefing room immediately. I'm sure they have some interesting news for us.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “And scuttle that plane.” His subordinate looked at him, questioningly. “We cannot leave a trace of our scheming.” In the small command room aft of the main rec area, Char sat with his two closest officers on this assignment. They looked good, but something about Werner troubled him. Without words, Underwood passed the note across the table, locking eyes with his Commander. Char read it. It had hasty notes scribbled all over it in poor English, but in big letters he could read “Jaburo” quite clearly. And there were coordinates. She had done her part, and he would do his. “So the Federation's new weapons are finally going to their intended nest.” Char thanked them both, and moved to act on this information, but Werner stopped him. “Sir. If I may?” His face was serious. Char knew this look. It was the look of a man who wanted nothing more than to go head-long into battle. He had seen this look many times. “Go ahead, Karl.” “Sir, the White Base is understaffed and the crew untrained. I believe if we strike now, before they reach their intended target, we can deal them a serious blow. If we wait, Commander Char, Jaburo will be just that much more defended.” It was sound logic, and he couldn't refute that, but they had had their orders. “We have our orders, and you know perfectly well that overrides logic.” Werner's face hardened, and Char knew instantly. They had both lost many under their command, Werner especially. He had been a member of the Kingler Squad, the old man of the team. There had been only three mobile suits, and there had been four pilots. He had drawn the short straw, and Char could tell he felt responsible. Luck always turned bad when you were the only one left standing.
“Launch when ready, lieutenant.”
Miharu had returned to his cabin after a tense thirty minutes of waiting for some sort of explosion or announcement to break the silence. But nothing had happened. She had come back in, releasing a tense sigh as she did, as if she'd just lifted a great weight off her shoulders. They met eyes and everything seemed okay for once. “What was that about?” “It's nothing, Kai—it's all over now. I can go home.” Kai felt a pit form in his stomach. What had she done? “And you should come with me. It's very sudden, and sort of strange, but you're the kindest man I've ever met. We can run away and be done with this war. It has destroyed anything we've ever cared about, so it only makes sense that we found each other.” Kai wasn't sure if he was digesting it all, but it was exciting and she was right. He didn't belong here and fighting was far from his thing. Maybe Amuro excelled at killing people, but he wasn't any good at it. He was happy he wasn't. He looked at this girl in front of him, this girl who had just fell out of no where, and he was happy. A chirping interrupted their reverie once more, and Kai was certain it'd be for the last time. ALL HANDS, RED ALERT. RED ALERT. WE'RE UNDER ATTACK. AMURO, STAND BY IN GUNDAM. KAI, REPORT TO THE GUNPERRY. The ship rocked as a missile hit, and it didn't occur to him that Miharu had been involved. War was always at their heels and Kai felt disgusted. They'd never leave him alone—ever. But they couldn't escape together, now, while they floated over billions of gallons of water. They'd have to wait until they hit land and then they'd leave this all forever. Who cared what happened to White Base after that. That meant playing their game until it was time. “I have to go, Miharu, but I'll be back.” “I don't want to be here alone. Can't I just come with you?” Kai thought it over, torn between real life and his new-found fantasy future. He didn't want to put her in harm's way, but he knew Bright wouldn't send the Gunperry alone into combat, not when they had Gundam. That was just foolish.
“All right, but pretend to be a crewer. You can help me, anyway since I doubt anyone else is available to lend me a hand.”
It wasn't until orders arrived via radio that Kai regretted pulling Miharu into combat with him. Bright wanted them, a little plane, to engage an enemy marine mobile armor. Reports classified it as a GRABRO, apparently it was Zeon for “shit luck.” Apparently Gundam would be useless underwater, and White Base wasn't equipped for anti-marine operations. This was just Kai's luck. He didn't blame Bright, personally, it was the Zeon's stupid fault for launching an attack. How, in the middle of no where, they'd found them was beyond him. A million questions streamed through his head, and the only paramount one was how he was going to keep Miharu safe. He couldn't just turn tail and land, he'd be thrown in the brig and she'd be sent off to places unknown, drilled and tortured until Federation brass knew her purpose on White Base. That wasn't an option. He chose to fight. “The enemy is submerged, but our sonar pinger has a rough estimate of where it's at. We have to go in closer in order to engage, but that means bringing us into its firing arch.” He braced himself at the controls, not knowing exactly how to approach the situation. He was no strategist. He wouldn't lie, whenever he launched in Guncannon, he merely tried to imitate Amuro. Sometimes that worked, sometimes—most of the time—it did not. Right now Amuro was back on White Base, and he was in charge of protecting himself and his newly discovered love. Love? Was it already coming to that? He doubted it. But he didn't. He had to keep focused, or he'd get them both killed.
A spritz of shrapnel from an incoming missile nearly shattered the cockpit, and the rest of the crew on board hollered out in various degrees of alarm.
Elsewhere, Werner bit his lip and stifled a laugh. He wasn't a jolly fellow in the slightest, but the bitterness of revenge brought out mixed feelings in him. He was a trained soldier and he knew the art of killing. How and where were the only components left to figure out. He was tired of waiting. Commander Char, he knew, was as edgy as any of them, and he didn't hold anything against him, but the lateness of their attack was nearly maddening. It had taken them this long to finally strike a serious blow to the enemy. No more feints or decoys, no more toying with them. They'd die, and he'd kill them. That simple.
“This is how war is, Fedscum.” He finally did laugh as he imagined them all cowering in their not-so-impervious-now little ship, crying and holding one another. It bothered him only a little that he remembered some of their faces, and that those faces were beardless and soft. The Grabro hummed in anticipation around him as the missile tubes prepped for launch. He launch an entire salvo, and this time they'd feel it.
“Missiles coming to port,” announced a faceless ensign to Kai's right. He jerked the stick as hard as he could, barely missing them. They weren't intended for him, and impacted on White Base's hull. That meant the enemy didn't know they had launched. Didn't know, or didn't really care. He couldn't decide. “Okay! Okay! I want you to zero in on their source. You can do that, right? Okay. Next barrage, I want use directly over that area.” “He might spot us, then,” informed the ensign. “I don't care, do it!” He looked back at Miharu who was manning another station. He felt his heart quicken despite its already rapid tempo. He had to get them through this. “The gunners report that they're down two men, sir. They need replacements, otherwise we're down to 80% efficiency.” Miharu stood up. “I'll go.” Kai wanted to stop her, but he didn't. Instead he stood up as well. “Ensign, take over. We'll go and man missile launchers. Get us to that spot. Understand?” The ensign nodded, looking discouraged as his duties multiplied.
As they reached their posts, the intercom announced the third barrage. Kai showed Miharu the firing switch and gave her a reassuring smile. “ALL STATIONS, FIRE AT THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES.” He keyed them in, and in less than a second the Gunperry unleashed its payload. The only evidence were six small splashes.
He saw the missiles coming and knew it was over. He could only hope he'd accomplished his mission and avenged his buddies. Regardless, he'd be joining them soon. “KINGLER SQUAD, LAUNCH.” He fired the rest of the Grabro's armament directly upward.
He'd meet them soon in the mirky depths and they'd be brothers again.
“Missiles incoming!” The words were barely out of the ensigns mouth when they hit, two piercing the Gunperry's aft gunner section. The metal tore as if it were plastic, and flame ignited the circuitry. The smell of burning hair made Kai gag, and before he could steady his own self, he saw the wind grab Miharu and drag her outward. The fire burned his arms and ankles, but he ran to the opening just in time to see her slam into the ocean. They were a thousand feet above the surface. The water would be like concrete. Nothing would survive. She was dead. The wind and klaxons were so deafening that he hadn't notice he was screaming. He was beginning to feel the burns as they ate through his dermis. He almost threw himself out the hole. She was dead.
With her went everything. Their plans, their dreams, their future—everything. Kai would never be the same. He wanted to make them pay for what they did to her—to them. But somehow that feeling was just too alien for him. He collapsed where was, still on fire. A medic would finally come and douse the flames right as they touched down on White Base.
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