Stargazers: "Naphtali Revealed"

The Naphtali Revealed

            The battle for Athens is all but over.  Around him, Arthur watches both armies struggling for composure as they retreat to their distinct sides.  Both lines, offensive and defensive, are fractured, and even the sky battle above grinds slowly to a halt as the flagships recall their forces.

            Arthur sprints across the battlefield, back toward the research facility.  On the way, he notices Federation dropships hovering just above the ground, picking up their soldiers as Republic soldiers ignore open shots and retreat alongside him.  The battle is over, he thinks at first, but looking up at the sky he realizes the truth.  Nothing has ended.  It is just relocating.

            By the time he reaches the research facility, Siegfried has already left orbit.  Reports confirm that the Federation forces have followed the unknown armor’s dive signature.  Arthur finds Galahad standing among his soldiers, listening to oral reports while reading those reports that are written.  He assigns duties to those waiting commands and hurry to relay them to their own men.

            A researcher approaches Galahad with a radio in hand.  “Sir, we’ve hailed Agamemnon.”

            Galahad takes the radio.  “Agamemnon, status.”

            “Damage is significant. The Yggdrasil Drive has been knocked off-line, and we’re using reserve power to maintain the shields.  We cannot make pursuit at this time.  Repeat, we cannot pursue.”

            Galahad frowns.  “Understood.  Focus on the drive.  We cannot lose this.  Understood?”

            “Aye, sir.”

            The research approaches again and whispers to Galahad..  “Sir, we have a message from Daedalus, channel 2-34.”

            Galahad nods curtly and adjusts the radio.  “Daedalus, this is Galahad.”

            “Admiral, this is Captain LeGuin, commanding officer aboard Daedalus.  We heard that the flagship is nursing some hurt, and we’re seeking permission to pursue the Feds ourselves.”

            “What’s your ship’s make, captain?”

            “Simple cruiser, holds four armors comfortably and six in a crunch.  We’ve got a prototype with us, sir, the Mercury Armor.  You saw it in the sky, I imagine.”

            “Indeed, I did.  And you’re fit for combat?”

            “Fit for pursuit.  Fit enough to slow them down for you, at least.”

            “That may be good enough.  We’ll get you supplied and refueled, captain.  Have your armors dock with us for check-up and repairs while we can, and keep your drive warm until then.  I’ll be in touch.”

            “Aye, sir.”

            Arthur approaches as Galahad hands off the radio.  He finds the old man leaning over a table and reviewing battle records, accounting for losses, damages, and assessing the strength of his remaining numbers against the skill of their eligible pilots.  When Arthur stops at his side, Galahad barely grunts.

            “Sir?”

            “Arthur.  Good job throwing away one of our prototypes.”  Galahad moves some papers but makes no effort to meet Arthur’s gaze.

            “To be fair, I wasn’t the only one playing with new toys out there.”

            “Yes, just the only one out there breaking them.”

            “Fine, say whatever you like.  I did what you asked me to do, and I bought you time.”

            Galahad gives another grunt.

            “Where are Chastity and the Lady?”

            “Don’t know.  Don’t care.  I have a mess to clean up and, for now at least, they’re not part of it.”

            “They’re all of it.,” Arthur says.  “The Lady is a Guide, the only living one we’ve found.  If that’s not important…”

            “It was important, until Athens tore open and revealed itself to be hiding a Guide ruin underneath.  Now, she’s a liability, and one I’ll be glad to be rid of.”

            “Rid of?  What do you mean?”

            Galahad jams the report into Arthur’s hands before turning his back again.  “Don’t go asking if you can join the away team because you can’t.  You’re a civilian now, Jameson, not a soldier.”

            Arthur looks over the report, which says that the Guide and civilian scientist were seen at the back of the ruins, around the Guide ship.  It also says that they are thought to have been on the previously inoperative Guide Gigas Armor when it took off.  “They…”  Arthur begins speaking, but when he looks up, he finds no one there to hear him.  He closes the report and sets it aside.

            Outside, Mercury docks and begins refueling.  Guinevere climbs from the cockpit and comes inside for a checkup and rations before returning to battle.  When Arthur sees her, he watches her movements, checking her for injury at first and then for changes.  She sees him, too, and they stop together, eyes locked.

            Suddenly, Arthur isn’t there.  Instead, he is in another lifetime, standing in an open office building, the furniture scattered by Gigas fire.  The windows are broken in, and a politician kneels at Lancelot’s feet.  Guns are drawn, and Guinevere stands at Arthur’s side, her weapon trained on the enemy.  There are shouts and gunfire.

            No one died, but Project Centurion came crashing down around them.

            “I thought I saw you out there,” is the first thing she says to him in over a decade.  She has a protein block in one hand and a bottle of purified water in the other.  She takes turns consuming them.  Her dark hair is tied back into an economical bun.  It looks good on her, though Arthur also liked when she kept her head shaved.  “You still fight the same way, at the center of the storm, always drawing enemy fire to yourself.”

            “I didn’t recognize you at all.”  Arthur looks at the Mercury armor.  Even from a distance, he can see the thin, brittle form of the armor and the lightness of the frame.  The engines are the heaviest part about it.  “But, then, I could barely see you at all.”

            Guinevere gives a humorless grin.  “What are you doing here? I thought you left the military.”

            “I did, but the military rarely leaves you.”  He sighs and puts his hands into his pockets as he meets her gaze again.  “I had trouble finding work, normal work.  I was a hero on paper, but in person, I was just another unqualified guy.  I ended up in private security, which got me on Canaan, which ended up bringing me here.”

            “Canaan?”  Guinevere’s jaw tightens, and it looks to Arthur like she hasn’t aged a day. “And when Galahad saw you here, he asked you to help out.”

            Arthur nods.  “Yup.  I’m here with the girl—girls—who caused all of this trouble.”

            “Always at the center of the storm.”

            Arthur grins.  “Always fighting my way toward the eye.”

            “But never making it.”

            Arthur laughs.  “It feels like it sometimes.”  He continues smiling, pretending like they are comfortable with each other, but they both know the truth.  To her, he is a memory of something best left forgotten, an old hurt that is tearing itself open with every word.  His face tightens and his demeanor sobers.  “Osceola, I need a favor.”

            “You always do.”

            “I need on your ship.  I need to save them, the girls, from whatever they’re doing or wherever they’re going.  I just need to be there.”

            “And you’re asking me because Galahad already said no.”

            “Wouldn’t be the first time we went against his orders.”  Arthur gives a hollow smile.  “The last time there were medals.”

            “No.”  Her tone is flat and her eyes hard.  “You may not be military, but I am, and I won’t risk it.  He already has a grudge.”

            “Fair enough, but think of it this way, you’re going up against an enemy that out guns you one-hundred to one.  There’s only one type of person who can win against those odds.”

            “It isn’t that bad.”

            “It’s a job I’m qualified for.”

            She frowns at him, precise, perfectly, and as always, perfectly trained.

            “Please,” Arthur says.  “I can’t let them get hurt.”

            She watches him a moment longer, and then she sighs.  “Fine, before I leave, I’ll sneak you into the cockpit and onboard Daedalus, but you better be in top form, otherwise this is a waste.”

            “I promise you, I won’t disappoint you.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus waits in Athens’ atmosphere with its Yggdrasil Drive primed and purring.  Athens sends supplies, including fresh armors and ammo.  The Mercury armor is last to arrive, landing lightly in the ship’s dock, its back canopying once it is situated.  Arthur climbs out, with Guinevere shoving her way out after him.

            LeGuin meets them on the deck, eying Arthur suspiciously before turning his attention to Guinevere.  “Who is he, lieutenant, and what is he doing here?”

            “He,” Guinevere speaks while eying Arthur carefully, “is an old soldier I’ve known for a long time.  He’s good in a fight, and he asked to help us take care of our problem on Canaan.”

            LeGuin looks between them, a frown creasing his face.  “Are you sure about this, Osceola?” Guinevere nods, and LeGuin lifts his cap and rubs his balding head.  “Fine,” he says, returning his hat in a harassed manner.  He leans forward with both hands on the safety railing.  “I guess we can’t pick and choose our allies in situations like this, and if you can vouch for him, that says something.”  He looks back at Arthur.  “You’ll have an armor when we get there, but I expect you to follow orders.”

            “Sir.”  Arthur salutes.

            LeGuin stands straight and returns the salute.  “Get rest while you can.  We’ll dive soon, and when we surface, I expect to be in the thick of it.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinevere leads the way to the mess.  Daedalus, though a small ship, is well-built.  The interior is sleek and narrow, meant to accommodate a small crew, and the two of them meet no one on the way.  Arthur knows that all of the other soldiers, veterans and novices alike, are waiting in their armors.  Only the Centurions are out, and only because battle no longer frightens them.

            He eats with Guinevere.  They sit opposite each other at a long table—one of four in the room—and eat protein bars.  The ship hums gently around them as it falls into dive.  The air shifts subtly and his hair stands on end, like there is a static charge in the air.  The hull shudders as dive is accomplished.

            Staring at his protein bar, he says, “Working together after so many years.  It feels strange.”

            “What’s strange is that you would go into this kind of work considering everything you said back then.”

            “What’s strange is that you stayed to begin with.”

            They make eye contact.  “Do you really find that so strange?”

            Arthur smiles.  “No,” he says, “Not really.  You were always a military woman, through and through.”

            Guinevere chews and swallows her food.  “We were all lifetime military,” she says after some thought, and she stares off at the far wall.  “But after everything that happened to us, it wasn’t the right fit anymore.  Centurion.  We were trained for a single purpose, for an enemy that never came.”

            “They found enemies for us,” he says, and they both fall silent.  He remembers their team, trained under Galahad, and he remembers Lancelot as a whirlwind of violence.  He also remembers Guinevere’s precision and Percival’s keen intuition.  What he remembers most of all was the fallout.  His grin hardens into a thin line across his face.  “I don’t think any of us were ready for what we became.”

            “But just because the system is flawed doesn’t mean we should throw it away.”

            Arthur shrugs.

            “I guess the others agreed with you, though.”

            “How do you mean?”

            Guinevere looks him in the eyes again.  “After our last mission, it all fell apart, didn’t it? We scattered.  You went into the private sector, while Galahad, through luck or rhetoric, moved up the ranks.”  She laughs, empty and breathless.  “Figures.”

            “Figures,” Arthur repeats.

            “And Percival and Lancelot just up and disappeared.”

            Lancelot was on Achilles, Arthur remembers, leading the charge on Canaan, killing innocent people.  Thinking on it now, it should have been no surprise considering Lancelot’s history.  He stares at Guinevere, who is eating quietly in small, measured bites, and considers telling her.  After a long pause, he says, “I saw him.”  Another long silence follows as she meets his gaze.  “Lancealot.  Steven.  I saw him.  He attacked us on Canaan, and he took me and the girl hostage.  He was leading the operation, I think.”

            “So, that was him.”  Guinevere folds the packaging around her protein bar and sets it on the table.  “I was there, too, at Canaan.  Just after the attack.  We tried to intercept the ship, but it made dive before we could.  I fought someone.  I was in an armor, and they were outside of it.”  She holds his gaze.  “It must have been him.  What happened to him?”

            “Robin, the commander of the enemy ship, killed him.”  Arthur’s thin line turns to a frown.

            “Then, we kill him.”

            Arthur thinks back to Jupiter hovering over him, Achilles just behind it.  He remembers the explosion that rocked the bridge.  If Robin hadn’t interfered, then Arthur would have died.  He knows this, but he nods anyway.  Some things are beyond logic.  Guinevere holds up a glass.

            “To Lancelot, and to Percival, wherever he is.”

            Arthur lifts his own glass to meet hers, and they drink.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus drops out of dive just outside of Canaan’s orbit.  The planet glows brightly in the distance, a dark bead of dirt and cloud drifting through the emptiness of space.  Hovering in atmosphere, Seigfried’s hull gleams red as it catches the sunlight, showing minor damage and open docks as it releases armors and shuttles for the planet’s surface.  The Guide armor is nowhere to be seen.

            LeGuin watches from the deck, leaning onto the rail as he issues orders.  His officers work around him, giving figures and echoing directions.  “Keep a steady course,” LeGuin shouts over the maelstrom, and he gives him helmsman a grim stare.  “We’re attacking from the side.  Plan our course and punch it.”

            “Aye, sir!”

            LeGuin goes to his comms officer and asks for a ship-wide channel.  She programs one before giving him the radio.  “Crew. We’re entering into Canaan’s atmosphere now and will engage the enemy.  We’re outgunned and outmanned.  Fight smart, fight hard, and make them earn every inch until back-up arrives.”  Returning the radio, he adds, “Contact Admiral Galahad and inform him of our arrival.”

            “Aye, sir,” she says before he returns to his command.

            In the armor bay, soldiers rush by to get ready.  Guinevere fastens her silver flight suit before storing her helmet under one arm.  Arthur approaches in black, also with his helmet at rest in the crook of his arm.  The other soldiers move around them, looking sick or otherwise out of place.  The two of them walk calmly in the chaos, the eye of the storm, and stop at the end of the dock.  They stand between their two armors, one a simple Republic Archer and the other the prototype Mercury.

            Arthur regards her with a grin.  “Just like old times.”

            She stares back at him sternly.  “Not entirely.”

            “Not entirely.  Good luck out there.”

            She nods.  “You, too.”

            They linger, remembering each other, committing each other to memory should the unfortunate happen.  Ten years ago, they parted never expecting to see each other again as they returned to the real world.  This time, they expect the same thing but secretly hope for something different.  When they part, Guinevere goes to Mercury and Arthur to the Archer.

            Shortly after, the canopy on the docking bay opens and the armor platforms lift, slowly, to the surface.  Their armors face each other, staring into each other as they fasten their helmets.  They can see each other on screen.  Mercury takes off first, departing in a blinding haze of light as it sails off into the distance.  Arthur launches just after, following in his own armor.