Part 22
Call to Arms

Patience comes naturally to him.

Three-in-one, yet still alone, he hoards his pain close. It is his substance, his most potent weapon and steadfast shield against the lures of the Coward. It stands proof against the soft, sentimental snares of illusionary affection; webs that try to smother him with their decaying promises.

He does not believe in promises. Promises are part and parcel of the future, and he does not believe in that either. There is only Now, and Now has always been Pain, and Hate, and Betrayal.

And Death.

He knows that there is nothing alive that is not destined to die--that is not destined for him to destroy. HE proved that with Deus. Not THEM. Let the others weep their tears of relief from inside their illusory cocoons. He is proof against the fabrications of love that the Coward hides behind. Three-in-one, yet still not whole...he can taste the others' fear. They know what is coming. Little coward, upstart offspring of his broken leavings and the Coward's pathetic hopes--the face that all of Them show to the world--for all his stolen power, he still cannot stop death from walking the world again.

He can be patient. Let the little coward fret about a future that does not exist. He knows better.

Death is waiting for them all--and it will wear his face.

Citan glanced over at Fei, who listened impassively from his corner, arms folded across his chest, as Sigurd clashed once again with Quatre and Wufei. The cramped Operations room had seen more than its fair share of arguments over the last two days as both the Earth-born and native tacticians had argued hotly over feasible rescue plans. Tempers growing ever shorter in the process, the meetings had become a standoff of opposites: in the face of Sigurd's heat and Citan's analytical calm, Quatre had become the cold logic backing up Wufei's fiery calls for action. And in the midst of it all, Fei had been silent; listening with an odd kind of intensity that made Citan very wary indeed.

"Are you insane? The last thing we want is a head-to-head confrontation. They outnumber us almost three to one, and if we head straight for Nortune, they'll slaughter us!"

"As things stand, they'll slaughter you anyway," Quatre pointed out. "And kill Bart to boot. It's only a matter of time, really."

"Maybe so, but I refuse to believe that suicide is our only option," Sigurd said stubbornly. "There has to be a better way than a frontal attack. If we commit all our resources into an assault on Nortune, we'll be leaving every other front open to attack. Not to mention we'll have to fight Nicklay's forces every step of the way--they'll be bleeding us white before we even come *close* to Nortune."

"You're right. But that doesn't matter." Quatre was unfazed, hands folded behind his back as he stared into the projected terrain map inside the holotank. "What we really need is the illusion of a frontal attack. One that Nicklay has no choice but to take seriously."

"And how do you propose we do that, exactly?" Citan asked.

"By splitting your forces into two groups. Your main group--or at least the one that Nicklay *thinks* is your main group--will consist of all your large airships. The largest, slowest, and most powerful ones you have--including the Yggdrasil." Sigurd looked like he was about to protest, but stifled it and listened unhappily as Quatre continued. "This will be your 'main invasion force'. It can assemble here-" he pointed at a spot where the Aveh desert began to turn into scrubby grassland, several hundred miles from the Neo-Kislev border, "-and then move straight in towards Nortune, picking up whatever reinforcements it can along the way."

Quatre rotated the view in the holotank, bringing up a closeup of a different section of the border. "Your secondary group will be here, out of range of their sensor net." He pointed out a broad pass through the low mountains that protected Kislev's western flank. "That group will consist of every single high-mobility cruiser you have that carries any decent amount of armament, along with your top Gear squadrons and our Gundams. They will wait until the main group has crossed the border and engaged the Neo-Kislev forces, then strike through the pass. It's defended, but not with the heavy airships...Nicklay keeps those closer to Nortune. With Gundam support, the second group should be able to punch through the pass and swoop down on Nortune from the west, behind the bulk of their forces. After that, it's a matter of getting through the city's fortifications." Quatre grimaced a little before reluctantly admitting, "I don't have enough data to work up a strategy for that yet, unfortunately."

"So your great plan--is to sneak up behind them? That's it?" Sigurd asked incredulously. Holding onto politeness by the barest of threads, he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid you don't understand, Quatre. It doesn't matter how fast this second group moves--Kislev's still going to see them coming, and then we're right back where we started."

"I'm afraid you're the one who doesn't understand," Wufei interjected, stepping forward. "The only purpose of this strategy is to maneuver the bulk of Neo-Kislev's forces out of our way. Once that is achieved, it doesn't matter if Kislev sees us--they still won't be able to stop us. Not when we have Gundams at our disposal." His voice was flat and certain.

Quatre nodded in agreement. "Wufei's right. Unfortunately, I have no doubt that Nicklay will be just as suspicious as you think about our full frontal assault. We will have to face the fact that the main group will take heavy losses acting as a decoy, no matter what we do. Even so, if we add the Yggdrasil and Xenogears' firepower to our 'main invasionary force', there's no way he can afford *not* to take them seriously. He'll have to--"
"Xenogears isn't going."

"--to...what?" Quatre stuttered to a halt, and all four heads turned towards the previously-silent observer. If Fei was uneasy under that sudden scrutiny, he didn't show it.

"Xenogears won't be part of the diversion," he said flatly. "Bart is my friend. I'm not going to pussyfoot around at the border while he rots in prison."
Quatre blinked. "Well...we have a problem, then."

Citan took a step forward, drawing the younger man's eye. "Fei...I'm not saying I agree with Quatre's idea. But it may be our best chance, and it'll work only if Nicklay believes we're committing all our firepower to one attack. Which means that Xenogears has to be there--otherwise he'll never believe it." His voice was low and soothing, as he did his best to prevent frayed tempers from exploding.

"I don't care. If Xenogears goes, it will be with the second group."

"Is your pride worth more than your friend's life?" Wufei spat disdainfully. "There will be more than enough fighting to go around, no matter where any of us are!"

Fei's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly sideways, but his resolve didn't waver. "I don't care about that."

"Then *why*, Fei?" Sigurd asked, heedless of the fact that he was now siding in favor of the same plan he'd opposed only moments ago.

"...because if I follow his plan, that's all I'll be doing. Fighting--and killing." Fei pushed away from the wall. "They'll send everything they can at Xenogears--and I'll have to kill them all, just to act as a decoy." He turned away from them. Heading for the door, he paused, one hand on the frame. "If I'm going to destroy that many lives, it's going to be for a better reason than that."

Citan watched Fei stalk from the room. Long experience had taught him better than to try and call Fei to order when he was in that kind of mood; it would be unproductive to the extreme. Sighing again, he turned back to the holotank. Dealing with the temperamental Xenogears pilot could wait until later. Coming up with a workable plan was a higher priority than quibbling over details.

"Other concerns aside, Quatre, your idea does have some merit. I would suggest a few tweaks, however." Picking up on Citan's cue, Quatre, Wufei and Sigurd all turned their attention back to the task at hand as he continued. "The matter of this second attack, for instance..."

The little alcove below the great Angelus window--or what remained of it--was exactly forty-three point five paces long. Heero knew that. To walk across it took exactly twenty-six point one-six seconds at his current rate of speed. Heero knew that too, as he hit the end of the alcove and pivoted on his heel once more.

The one thing he truly needed to know, though, was the one question that made his internal clock both meaningless and intensely frustrating.

How long would he have to wait?

He continued to pace, gazing blindly out of the window to the battered countryside beyond. Years ago he would have found it easy to be patient, to sit and prepare and wait for orders. He was at best a tactician, not a strategist, and he knew it. It would have been nothing to wait for the right moment, his training still fresh and no external concerns to interfere. But now...everything had changed, including him. The knowledge that Duo was in danger eroded his patience and his objectivity. Strategy be damned...he couldn't sit idle, not when every instinct screamed at him to take Wing and give Duo the help he needed.

His hands curled into fists tight enough to make them ache, and he made another circuit of the balcony, trying to work off his tension. He knew charging in would only make things worse, he knew that Quatre would find away to rescue both pilots and bring them home...but it had been two days. Heero knew too well all that could happen in the space of two days. Hell, the Eve Wars had taken less time.

A glint of red caught his eye as he passed the window once more, and he paused. A figure had stalked from the Yggdrasil's outer hatch in a flurry of angry movement visible even from this distance--after a moment, the long brown ponytail swung into view, identifying it as Fei. Soldiers scrambled out of the young man's path as he stalked toward the cathedral, and Heero felt an unexpected bit of sympathy--it was obvious that the Xenogears' pilot was just as frustrated as he was. And from what he had learned during their time in Nisan, Fei was every bit as much a loose cannon as the Gundam pilots were. Only his personal loyalty to Bart had kept him so close to the Aveh military, and Fei still was no soldier. There was no ordering him to do anything...not with that much raw firepower at his disposal. If Fei's reaction was any indication, the tactical meeting was not going well.

Heero came to an abrupt decision. Swinging away from the window, he headed for the narrow stairs that led down from the balcony, his stride lengthening. He was through with waiting on the sidelines--if Quatre and the others hadn't come up with a plan by now, then he would take matters into his own hands. And while the end result would most likely not be pretty, it would be effective.

He'd make sure of that.

Trowa drank thirstily out of the battered metal canteen, then smeared the back of his hand across his mouth. His skin prickled as the demihuman inhabitants of the underground warren watched him and Rico warily, their murmurs blending into an growling undercurrent of sound. He did his best not to give away his unease as he handed the canteen back.

"Thanks," he murmured, meeting Rico's eyes, impressed all over again by the sheer solid size of the man. The green-skinned mutant towered head and shoulders over most of the others; with his bulk and muscle, he seemed an entirely different breed from the rest of these underfed and desperate folk. "I appreciate the help...for a minute there, I was sure they'd caught me. "

"Well, it's not like you were hard to find. You stirred up a proper ants' nest up there, kid." Taking the canteen, Rico plopped it carelessly on a small pile of supplies. "I figured getting you out of sight was the best thing to do, before you got all the rest of us killed."

"Us?"

"Yeah, us--me plus all of the rest of Nortune who wants to get out from underneath Nicklay's boot." Rico swept a hand around, indicating the man-made tunnels around them, currently occupied by the ragtag assortment of humans and mutants. "Last thing we need is them stomping around down here too."

"True enough," Trowa acknowledged. "But won't you rescuing me do the same thing?"

"Nah. The area of tunnels I nabbed you from is actually kind of close to the surface, and we really don't use it too much. Too well patrolled." Rico grinned, showing slightly-pointed teeth. "We're a lot deeper down here, and Nicklay's goons don't ever come down this far. Not unless they feel like getting eaten by Wels."

Trowa shivered a bit, the memory of the frenzied mutants attacking their Gears still fresh on his mind. "Makes sense. But then, why are you..." he trailed off, not wanting to offend the other rebels by implying Rico wasn't one of them.

"Why am I here, and not in Aveh?" Rico shrugged. "It's a long story."

"I'll bet." Trowa leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and remarked dryly, "Luckily I don't seem to be going anywhere at the moment."

Rico chuckled, a low bass rumble that Trowa could almost feel as well as hear. "That you aren't, that's for sure." He leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. "As for me--well, as crummy as it may look, Nortune's my home. I never was too thrilled 'bout the idea of Nicklay stomping all over it. Mutants and demihumans are just garbage, as far as that bastard is concerned--useless genetic waste, courtesy of Solaris. An' most of the full humans aren't much better off. Nicklay's pressed all of them into the factories--he's working them until they drop, just for the chance for some food." Rico's face darkened until he was scowling ferociously, and there was a growling mutter of agreement from the crowd. "So Sigurd asked me to try and make contact, try and crack Nicklay's little fortress from the inside."

Trowa glanced around, a bit taken aback by the easy way Rico had admitted he was a spy. Especially in front of so many others. Catching the look, Rico lifted his lip in something too feral to be called a smile. "Don't worry. Everyone here is part of the underground. Even assuming Nicklay's men would listen to a demihuman--which they wouldn't--anyone here knows all we can expect is ta get shot on sight if we even poke our noses in their direction."

Trowa nodded. "All right. I believe you." He suppressed a sigh, running a hand roughly through his hair. The adrenaline that had lasted him through the escape and the long chase afterwards was beginning to wear off, and his leg felt like someone had stabbed it repeatedly with a red-hot poker.

"So...it was Trowa, right?" At the pilot's nod, Rico continued. "My turn ta ask the same thing. What're you doing here instead of Aveh?"

Eyes narrowed in memory, Trowa admitted, "It's a long story. Short version--we were betrayed. Bart, Billy, Duo and I were all ambushed while on patrol. We tried to escape while they were bringing us here, but..." his face tightened. "I was the only one who made it out."

There were a few exclamations of dismay, and the crowd around them shifted again, moving in closer. Under that green complexion, Rico blanched. "Bart was captured? And Billy too? Oh, Deus, that ain't good..."

"Thanks so much for your concern," Trowa said dryly, and Rico waved a hand at him, scowling.

"Not trying to ignore ya, kid--or your friend, either. But you have to understand that if Nicklay's got Bart, then everything's about to go to hell in a major way. You said you guys were betrayed? Who did it?"

"You're more right than you know," Trowa remarked, thinking of a certain Wing pilot who was *not* going to be happy about the current state of affairs. "As to who betrayed us--he was part of the Nisan forces, and piloted a strange Gear. I didn't recognize him, but Bart called him--Broyer, I think?"

"Broyer..." Rico growled angrily. "I should've known. Those Deus-damned Solarians...can't trust a single one of 'em." He shook his head, hands clenched into fists. "He must have been feeding Nicklay information all along."

"Solarian?" Trowa asked, confused. "If they knew he was Solarian, why did they let him into Aveh?"

"Elly brought 'em in--her entire squad, actually." He gave Trowa a funny look. "You didn't know she was Solarian, I take it?"
Trowa shook his head. "No one ever mentioned it."

"Hunh. Probably forgot to--everyone else knows, so they probably assumed you did too." Rico grimaced, glaring around at their audience--which got the hint, and began drifting away or ostensibly busying themselves with other tasks. "Yeah, Elly's Solarian. She was Gebler, I think--that's part of their military, though don't ask me which part. She got involved with Fei early on, before Deus started stomping things flat--before I ever met the kid, actually. Her squad followed her back down to the surface after Solaris fell. They're good pilots, I'll grant ya. But they've got attitude in spades, like they're too good for the rest of us. You ask me, something like this was just bound to happen."

"Do you think Elly was involved?" Trowa's eyes were cold as he tried to analyze all the possible things that Broyer could have reported to Nicklay...especially about their Gundams. As far as he knew, the Nisan forces had never been involved in any close-in fighting alongside the Gundams, and he didn't remember ever seeing Broyer among the crew of the Yggdrasil, which limited the amount of information he might have. Though what he had managed to do was damaging enough.

Rico shook his head, but his answer wasn't as certain. "I hope not. It'd kill Fei if she was. Karsted Nicklay! He had ta pull this now, didn't he?" He stood up and began to pace, his face pulled into a forbidding scowl. "Aveh can't take this lying down. We're going to have all the firepower in the world coming down on our heads, and we're not fershigging ready!" He slammed a meaty fist into the wall, the cement crumbling under the attack. Trowa raised an eyebrow, but kept his silence. The day was taking its toll, and any comment he could make right now would probably border on the obvious.

Rico paced across the confined space restlessly, muttering to himself. His people, Trowa noticed, continued about their tasks, but kept shooting expectant sidelong glances at their leader. It wasn't long before their patience was rewarded. Rico's head came up, his shoulders squared, and he stopped in front of Trowa.

"You said that you were the only one that got out, right? That Bart and the others were recaptured?"

"Recaptured or dead," Trowa said evenly, ignoring the pang of pain that accompanied the thought.

"If Bart's dead, then he's worm food. Nothin' I can do about that," Rico said with callous practicality. "But if he's alive, then that means they're held in the city--and Sigurd's gonna be coming for him. That's our opportunity, right there."

Trowa looked skeptical. "You're that sure they're coming? He's only one man, you know."

Rico snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure. We're talkin' about Sigurd, here. Last time Bart looked to get himself killed in a fight--the guy who dropped a million-sen airship on the person." He glanced sideways and muttered, "...'course, it didn't really work, but..." He coughed and continued, loud enough for the other ragtag deminhumans in the tunnel to hear. "Yeah, Sigurd's coming in, through hell or high water. We're not ready, but that doesn't matter. This is gonna be our only chance."

He turned a grim look on Trowa. "We got no Gears for you here. You willing to fight with us anyway?"

Trowa's answer was simple--and deadly. "They have my friends. What do you think?"