Zeta Gundam Fan Fiction ❯ Harbinger of Darkness ❯ Heart of Darkness ( Prologue )

Disclaimer: I don't own Zeta Gundam or any of the other cross-over animes mentioned in this work (and there are a heap of `em!). Big ups to Bandai for being behind suck a kick-ass series and to Pioneer for being the creative force behind Kiyone Makibi, the hottest chick in anime!

 

 

 

Mobile Suit

Gundam

Stories From the Front: 0085-0087

 

Harbinger of Darkness

A U.C./A.C/A.D. original theatrical event

Brought to you by:

Alex “The Nightmare of Solomon” Brickler

 

----------------------------------------------Begin Transmission-----------------------------------------------

 

13 May 0085 U.C.

 

Naomi Sterling sat staring pensively out the window of her seventeenth story flat, a cup of coffee on the table before her. The lights of the city spread out before her like a sea of jewels.

“Peace at last,” she said softly.

“What's that, Naomi?” her brother Henry asked, looking up from a worn copy of Machiavelli's The Prince.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “I'm sorry.”

“Certainly you were not revelling in this moment of suspended conflict, were you, my dear sister?” Henry walked across the room to sit at the table with her. “For you must know that the war is not over…not by a long shot.”

Naomi sighed, and pushed aside an errant strand of sandy blond hair from her blue eyes. Henry was always like this, spouting off political rhetoric to her and condemning the Federation, under which they now both lived. He had been only fifteen when the One Year War broke out, and thus, too young to join the Zeonic military as she had. He had also been unable to join the Delaz Fleet uprising of '83.

He had never seen war firsthand, yet by the way he spoke of the conflicts, one would have thought that the Purple Heart mounted in the kitchen belonged to him rather than her.

“Henry, please,” she said, far too tired to listen to him prattle off his idealistic opinions this evening. “I was just enjoying the view of the city.”

“The view of this slum the oppressive Federation has forced us to live in? When you asked for quarter after the war, they should have—“

“Spare me, brother, please!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Do you honestly not think of anything but politics?”

“What else is there?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. “If we do not understand the system, how can we ever hope to fight against it?”

“I have no interest in fighting anything any more, thank you,” she snorted as she went to the sink to pour out her cup. “You were not out on the frontlines in the War, so you really have no idea of the hell it can be.”

Henry shrugged. “That may be so, but I intend to remedy that fact very shortly.”

“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously, turning to face him and resting her backside against the counter.

“As soon as the week is out, I am going to Axis to join the rebels there,” he declared proudly as he got up and pulled the bottle of Vodka from the cabinet next to her.

“What?” she had almost been expecting that, but even still, his calm revelation of the fact nearly knocked her flat. “Henry, you can't!”

“Why not, Naomi?” he returned hotly, slamming the cabinet door shut. “You always chide me about never seeing war firsthand; now that I have that opportunity will you stand in my way?”

“Yes! I thank God every day that you did not have to go through the hell I did back then. No one should have to witness such atrocities.”

He set the bottle down and took her hands in his own. He was taller than she was, and more muscular, and so he had to look down to look into her eyes. A fire burned behind those bluish-silver eyes, a fire that signified an intensity that belied his years. “Can you not see that I must, sister? I must face the nightmare of war and face it head on as my baptism of fire! I must engage in the physical aspect of Revolutionary struggle as well as the philosophical! I must, but also I want to!”

Naomi writhed and wriggled away from his grip. “You're talking nonsense, Henry, and you must stop. Think of what Mother would say if she heard you rant in this manner! It tore her apart when I joined up; you were right there with her that day at the bus stop! I don't care what the doctors had to say about it, she died because of a broken heart.”

Her brother laughed in her face. “Sentimentality from the mighty warrior? Sister, had I known you were such a romantic I would have asked you to help me write my Revolutionary Pamphlets.”

“Your what?”

“I should clarify,” he said as he took a seat at the table again. “Over the past few months I have contacted several like-minded dissidents on this colony and we have begun to distribute incendiary propaganda pamphlets throughout the city. The Truth of the Federation's tyranny is already leaking out.” He spoke with the haughty arrogance of having accomplished something grand.

Naomi, though, went white as a ghost. “Henry, please tell me you didn't!” she pleaded, although she knew he could not. “What if the Titans find out? You know they have agents throughout the colonies; if they connect you to those misdeeds, they will kill you!”

“The Titans,” Henry said with another bitter laugh. “Agents of Fascism sent to crush the flower of Revolution before it has a chance to blossom. They are thugs, Naomi, and nothing more.”

“Henry, please!” she pleaded. “You cannot continue like this.”

Henry's façade of the thoughtful, scheming Revolutionary cracked almost audibly. “Dammit, I will continue, Naomi!” he raged at his sister, coming abruptly to his feet and flipping the table onto its side, “and there is not a damned thing you or anyone else can do or say that will stop me! Nothing!”

As he stabbed an accusing finger in her direction, Naomi suddenly felt her whole body go stock-still. Her head snapped back and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Then the inside of her chest got very cold, such as when she went outside during an artificial colonial blizzard without a scarf. It became increasingly difficult to inhale.

`My lungs are freezing!' came the terrifying revelation.

“Henry!” she gasped. “Henry, please! Stop it Henry!”

Her brother blinked, startled by his own display of force. It made him relax his mental hold slightly and the pain in Naomi's chest began to ebb.

Then his face contorted into an expression she had never seen before. A look of pure, unadulterated evil clouded his young face. He raised his left hand. As he did so, her body was lifted from the floor and hung suspended in the air. Then, malicious grin widening still, he pushed outward with the same hand, palm out.

Responding to his mental command, Naomi's body shot backward, towards the wall. She let out a horrified shriek, fearing the inevitable impact.

Yet just as she was about to hit, Henry stopped his hand. Her body stopped mere centimetres from the wall.

He then relaxed, allowing her to drop to the floor like a stone.

“So…” he muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice slowly increasing in volume, “this is what Power is. This is what it is to be a Newtype. I'd always pegged that as superstitious propaganda created by the Zabis to force our soldiers to keep fighting, but no, for once I was wrong.

“This is what Power is!” he was shouting now, oblivious to the pain he had just dealt his sister. “This is what it is to be in control of your own Destiny! This is what it is to be a god!”

 

“Papa,” Annika Maxwell began, tugging on her father's pant leg as he reclined in his easy-chair, “did you ever kill anyone in the War?”

Her dad smiled down at her, and patted her on the head. She had very friendly eyes and an easygoing personality; so much like him, even at the tender age of five.

“'Course he did, stupid,” her twin brother Gene said, looking up from his homework, “it was a war, after all, and dad was a soldier.” At his lofty vantage point of five minutes older, he was constantly teasing and picking on her.

“I wasn't asking you, Gene, so mind your own beeswax!” she shouted.

“Calm down, kids,” their father tried to play the pacifist. “Gene, you need to finish your studies, and don't pick on your sister. You were asking the same thing not too long ago.”

He returned his attention to his little girl. “He does have a point though, Small-fry. You know your dad fought in the war and he did his best to keep peace in the Colonies. But to do that, I did have to take out a few `Bad Guys'.”

“Wow, Papa,” her eyes gleamed with the inimitable shine of a child looking up at an adult in pure, unadulterated hero worship. “When I grow up, do you think I can be a soldier like you and Mommy were?”

Again, her dad smiled. “Sure you can, Small-fry. But it takes a lot of hard work, and you have to be able to follow orders. You think you could handle it?”

“Yep!” Annika nodded vehemently. “I'm gonna be an MS jocky and fly in the Gundam!”

“Supper's almost ready kids!” Annika and Gene's mom shouted from the kitchen, “go wash up!”

“Yay!” the two little kids screamed as they scampered into the hall bathroom.

Duo Maxwell got up from the chair and went directly into the kitchen. “What's on tonight, Babe?” he asked, patting his wife on her rear.

“A little from both worlds,” Hilde replied as he peered over her shoulder. “American style steak, with potatoes au gratin. Caesar salad on the side.”

“Sure enough smells good.” Duo said, inhaling deeply. “Can't wait to taste it!”

“You're going to wash up too, before you taste anything,” Hilde said, flatly. “Now get out of my kitchen with those dirty hands!”

“Jawol, mien commandant!” Duo said with a mock salute. He then did a smart about-face and marched into the bathroom.

“And while you're up, go tell Talia that supper's on!” Hilde shouted after him.

“But of course.” Duo washed his hands and the marched to the end of the hallway and rapped on Natalia D'ark's door.

“What's up?” her voice floated out in response. The two of them communicated mostly in English as it was both of their native tongue. Around the others and everywhere else in their daily lives, they had come to accept German as a standard.

“Supper's on, O Great Mistress of Darkness,” he replied, “Ya feeling hungry?”

“Sure thing, just lemme finish this last history question and I'll be right out.”

“Okay, see ya then.”

Natalia D'ark was not one of Duo and Hilde's children, but rather an adopted war orphan. Her brother, also named Gene, and their son's namesake, had served with them during the war and had remained a friend until his tragic and self-sacrificing demise during the final battle at A Baoa Qu. Gene D'ark had had feelings for Hilde but she had repeatedly snubbed him and rejected his overtures. It was not until the last seconds of his life that she realised how much he really meant to her, and she promised to look out for Talia for him after he was gone.

Talia, who was thirteen at the time, had been in the hospital suffering from a terminal illness. Yet, with the technological breakthroughs of the post war era, the doctors had devised a way to treat her and ultimately she was cured. Hilde, holding true to her word, and with Talia's consent, took her into her and Duo's home, and made every effort to raise her as though she were her own daughter.

Now, after nearly five years, she seemed to have succeeded…in large part anyway.

The four of them were already seated when Talia walked in, clad in a long black lace dress with a matching black t-shirt and lipstick. Her hair, which had once been red like her brother's, now was also dyed black, and was worn in a waist-length braid. Conversely, her face was pale with make-up, and her eyelids were heavily coated in eye-shadow. The ceiling light glinted off the stud on the right side of her nose. “Sorry I'm late,” she said switching almost effortlessly to the guttural language that the majority of her adoptive family used, as she pulled up her chair, “when your getting ready to graduate some teachers feel its best to load you down with as much work as possible.” She shrugged, “but what're ya gonna do?”

They said The Blessing and started to eat.

“Papa was just telling us about his time in the army, Talia,” Annika beamed. “He said I could be a soldier too someday!”

“Really?” she arched her eyebrow at her `little sister', “Why would you want to do something like that?” She was a staunch pacifist and hated all forms of military force. After what had happened to both her parents and her brother, Duo could hardly blame her.

Annika paused, caught of guard. “'Cause, I want to pilot a mobile suit just like papa!” she said finally.

Talia smiled in spite of herself. “Whatever you say Squirt. Do you want to join the regular army or the Titans?”

“I think the Titans are cool!” Gene declared. “They've got those awesome black and blue MS, and they always fight to keep the colonists in line! Stinkin' rebels!”

“After that whole scare with the Delaz Fleet three years ago, I'm glad they're around too,” his mother nodded. “Thankfully we live here in Berlin, rather than New Jersey in the North America Prefecture where your Papa grew up.”

Duo nodded. “It's a shame though, all those people who died when the colony hit. Still, though, I think the Titans play a bit too rough for my tastes. The Federation army could do the task of occupying the colonies by itself; why do they need a paramilitary organisation to do their dirty work for them?”

“I'm with you,” Talia agreed.

“Papa, how come you didn't get called back to fight the Delaz Fleet?” Gene asked in between mouthfuls of steak.

Duo sighed. “Well, Delaz's Operation Stardust really wasn't so crucial a threat that they needed to call in all the reserves—or so they thought. Also, I wouldn't have been able to pass the physical examination; like your Ma, I got injured in the first Zeon war. I can't see colours anymore, as you know.”

“'Cause you had surgery on your eyes, right Papa?” Annika interjected.

“That's right Squirt. Needless to say, there was no time for a draft, and the top Brass in Jabrow couldn't get everybody mobilised quick enough to stop the colony.”

“And Mama couldn't go on account of her leg,” Annika continued. Subconsciously, her eyes flicked under the table at her mother's prosthesis.

“That's right,” Hilde nodded in assent. She didn't mind the looks she got about her leg so much any more. After losing it in a hasty frontline amputation after it had been pierced by shrapnel, she had stubbornly refused any sort of prosthesis for about a week. She finally consented and allowed the doctors to give her one, and even then, it had only been so that she could pilot an MS again in the battle of A Baoa Qu.

The rest of their mealtime conversation was idle chit-chat. Talia had her college pre-test coming up next week, and also a paper on the history of Atomic Age Warfare due as well. Gene proudly proclaimed that his first grade class had begun learning about fractions and how to write basic Katakana characters. Annika, not to be outdone, said that she was learning the same material, but smugly added that she was getting much better marks than her brother.

As they finished and the kids went off to finish their assignments, Duo set to clearing the table and washing the dishes.

“And what's going on at work for you, Babe?” he asked over his shoulder.

Hilde had collapsed on the sofa and was on her way to falling asleep, when he asked, and awoke with a start. “Huh?”

“I said how was work?” Duo repeated, patiently. She worked at the local Anaheim Electronics branch factory as a systems engineer, and was almost always exhausted when she came home.

“Oh,” she replied and leaned her head over the back of the couch so that she was looking at him upside down. “The usual. Make a few sketches before lunch, fine tune some blueprints afterwards, the go down to R&D to help them with the latest Newtype stuff.”

“I see.” He put the remaining dishes in the dishwasher and came and sat down next to her.

She was just as beautiful as she had been when he popped the question to her five years ago, he thought, with a smile of approval. She'd grown her hair out since then, and had begun acting a lot more effeminate, but those only added to her appeal. She still had her striking figure, and her ruddy Germanic good-looks. Also, even though they had moved back to her hometown, all the time spent amongst foreigners had all but dissolved her vestigial accent. That bothered her, but he was glad, and had no problem telling her.

“How about you, Duo?” Hilde asked, now leaning her head on his shoulder. “How was your day?”

After the war, Duo had not had as easy a time as his wife. He hadn't had any plans on what to do after he graduated college, outside of maybe joining the army. There also wasn't a big job market for people with a degree in martial philosophy. Hell, he'd been out of the army for a full six months before he'd landed his position working at the alloy smelter.

Duo shrugged, causing Hilde's head to rise and fall with the movements of his broad shoulders. “Same ol', same ol'. Smelting Gundarium alloy isn't the most exciting of jobs, but hell, it puts food on the table and helps to pay for the kids' education. Plus, I still feel like I'm doing something helpful for the military; they can't build their new MS without this new alloy, and Berlin's got one of the biggest smelting facilities on the planet.”

“I still make more than you do,” she said and poked him in the ribs.

He let out a wordless grunt. That was a touchy subject. It made him wish more than ever that he could find a better job, but what with the unstable Federation economy and all, if he quit the Smelter, he might not be able to find any job.

“I'm just teasing you,” she sat up and gave him a playful shove. “How about if we put the kids to bed early tonight?” she had that look in her eyes.

“What about Talia?”

“Her friends have been wanting to go out with her, so let's let her go. They won't be back for a while.”

“But you just told me how exhausted you were!” It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he hadn't seen her this excited since their honeymoon. It was almost enough to make him nervous.

Hilde shrugged, and stuck her tongue out at him. “I rallied. Let's go, c'mon Duo! Please?”

A big grin slowly spread across his face. “Okay, you talked me into it,”

Another normal evening at the Maxwell residence.

 

The telephone jangled in Captain Kiyone LaVans' Titans branch office on the Side One colony of “30 Bunch”.

“Dammit,” she swore as she fiercely exhaled a cloud of smoke around her still-smouldering cigarette. She reached across her desk and picked up the receiver. As she did so a monitor flickered to life on her opposite wall.

“Yeah, what is it?” she snarled into the receiver. It had been a long day at the office and anyone else who called about prospective rebellious activity was going to get an earful of nasty remarks on suspicions versus substantiated fact. “Titans branch office, Captain Kiyone LaVans speaking.”

“Whoa, scary! I guess I'll call back when you're in a better mood.”

“Oh. Hi, Ray” she sighed. “You do know this line is reserved for important business calls, right? Unless you want to do your patriotic duty by reporting some rebellion in the works, you better get off my line,”

Her husband laughed. “Damn, I love you when you get mad. Long day at work huh?”

“I'm hanging up the phone Ray-kun.”

“No, no, no, wait,” he made halting motions with his hands. “I want to report some…ah…some…suspicious activity going on at Lady Iboshi's Japanese restaurant to-night. Yeah, that's it. I think you should go down there and check it out. I'll be your backup.”

A weary smile spread across Kiyone's lips, and she waggled the cigarette thoughtfully. “And might this `suspicious activity' include a candle-light sting operation?”

“I think we'd better rendezvous at that locale at 2100. Copy?”

“Damn you, Ray!” she laughed, momentarily forgetting about how tiring busting rebels could be. “Fine, I'll be there. I need to go home and freshen up a bit first, though.”

“Aww, but you're so sexy in that blue-and-black uniform,”

“I'll take blue-and-black over khaki any day, Sweetie,” and she hung up before he could give a retort.

Kiyone filed the rest of her papers with the enthusiasm of someone about to be set free from hours of unending drudgery. It wasn't that she disliked being a part of the Titans—quite the opposite really—she just would rather be taking the fight against Revolution to the streets, rather than filling out paperwork about other people's busts. True, she'd been promoted since transferring from the Federation's standard army to its elite paramilitary organisation, but now that she had made Captain, the higher-ups didn't want her careening through the void in the new Anaheim MS toys and have a beat around the asteroid belt. Damn, the system was unfair; you start finally getting ahead, and the bosses start taking away more privileges than they gave.

Alas, but such was the way of Fascism. `All for the State, remember, Kiyone? The individual is unimportant'. She sighed again in the acceptance of her place; if everybody got to do whatever they wanted, then they'd be living in the Anarchy that the Rebels she was supposed to stamp out espoused.

Ah, fuck it. It was quitting time.

Kiyone cleared her desk and clicked off her lights. “See ya tomorrow Johnny,” she called to her co-worker Johnny Wu as she locked her door.

“You too, Kiyo-chan,” he called over his own mountain of paperwork.

“Hey, now,” she said, with a look that was supposed to be sharp, “Only Ray can call me that now.” During the war and the three years immediately following it, nearly everybody who had known her had called her by the Japanese intimate diminutive form of her name. She'd never been quite able to figure out why, but now that she and Ray were an item, she got mad whenever anyone else called her that.

“Right, right.” Johnny laughed at her futile attempt at frustration. “Go home and get some sleep Kiyone. Ya look like hell.”

“That's what the weekend's for,” she said with a shrug. “I've got a hot date to-night.”

He gave a whistle. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Same to you.” She started towards the elevator.

“Hey!” she stopped abruptly. “Where the hell is Mihoshi? She's supposed to have at least as much work as you and I! How'd she get out early?” Mihoshi Kobayashi was another of their co-workers and Kiyone's partner. She had a knack for slacking and was incredibly clumsy.

Johnny coughed, audibly.

“Dammit! Did she sneak out again?” Kiyone slapped a hand over her forehead. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is that girl thinking? Honestly, why did she even join the Force if all she does is cut up and get me in trouble? Now I'm going to have to come in early tomorrow to do the shit that she didn't get done! Ugh, of all the people to get stuck with as a partner!”

Johnny laughed at her again and waved her out of the office, as she fumed still.

Both of her co-workers and her husband too, had all been a part of the peace-keeping taskforce she'd been assigned to, right after the war, after her MS infantry unit, the 107th Space GM, was dissolved. Three years later, when the Titans were formed following the Delaz Fleet incident, the three of them had signed up immediately. Ray, though, had chosen to stay with the regular army. Something about ethical qualms regarding the nature of the Titans…

Ray was sweet but sometimes he was just a little naïve and idealistic.

Fifteen minutes and two hover-trolleys later found Kiyone stripping down for a hot shower she hoped would wash away the day's worries. Oh, she was going to hit that sake hard tonight. Ray might even have to carry her home…again.

She cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. After wrapping herself in a towel, she wiped the fog from the mirror and took a long look. Hah! Those antismoking ads were all a lie; she still looked damn sexy. Ray always laughed at her for being so skinny, but that was a cultural difference between his West and her East. She tried working out every so often to stay in good enough shape to pass her annual physical, but her lungs weren't what they used to be (well, maybe there was some truth to those ads…). She had a very pretty face: pale with dark eyes and a cute nose. It was framed by long dark hair that was very fine and grew down to her waist.

The phone rang again just as she was walking out of the bathroom. She switched it on audio only and lifted the receiver. “Moshi-moshi, watashi wa LaVans Kiyone desu.”

“Hey, where are you?” Ray's voice. “There's no picture. Is the phone broken again?”

“I just got out of the shower, Darling,” she said, flatly.

A whistle came though the ear-piece.

“It's nothing you haven't seen before, you crass little—”

“I'm waiting for you at the restaurant,” he cut her off, “hurry up!”

“Okay. You want me to wear anything special?”

“You always look good in the red Yukata.”

“What do I look like, a geisha? That's only for special occasions, Ray.”

“Whatever then,” he said in a placating manner, “I'll see you here shortly.”

Ultimately Kiyone decided on a simple black ensemble but she did put her hair up special, though, using the styling pins her sister had given her for her birthday a few years back. She grabbed her purse and her gun as she headed out the door.

Ray waved her over to the table he had saved when she entered the restaurant. Lady Iboshi's was a small high-class restaurant located downtown. Huge windows were fitted with massive aquariums where orange and white gobi swam freely.

“You look great,” Ray flashed a smile.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Kiyone returned his grin with one of her own. “This was a great choice of restaurant, dear. I usually hate going out for Oriental food `cause none of it is authentic, but I've heard great things about this place.” She split her chopsticks.

“Yeah…authentic.” Suddenly her husband suddenly didn't look so confident.

“Ray,” Kiyone said, pointedly, “for the love of God, just ask for a fork.”

“No, dammit! It's sad enough that after all these years I still don't know how to use these sticks, but if the waitress sees me here with you asking for a fork, I know she's gonna laugh!”

“You're probably right,” she shrugged, deftly manipulating the sticks to eat some of her seafood nabeyaki, “so?”

“'So' I hate it when people—”

He didn't get a chance to finish, for at that exact instant a hooded figure rushed up to the front of the restaurant from the street and hurled a small package at the massive windows. He shouted something barely intelligible but what sounded like “Die insolent Running Dogs!”

Seconds later the package exploded shattering the fish tank and sending shards of glass and water throughout the inside of the building. Several patrons screamed in agony, while others, those closer to the explosion's epicentre, lay silent, victims of the glass shrapnel.

Kiyone and Ray had been quick enough to dive from their seats and were both now crouched beneath the table. “Fucking rebels!” Kiyone raged, “I'm going after that son of a bitch!” her hand went for the small pistol she wore around her thigh.

“No, Kiyone, don't go out there!” Ray grabbed her arm as she made ready to chase the terrorist. “That's just what they want you to do! You think they'd send one guy out with a bomb against a place where soldiers and politicians are likely to eat? I'm willing to bet that they've got half a dozen irregulars back there with guns waiting to waste some Titans hothead foolish enough to rush out after them!”

“So what do we do then?” she hated being powerless in situations such as this.

“Call it in to your HQ,” he said calmly. “I've got a cell phone right here,”

Within seconds of placing her call, the street outside of what had been Lady Iboshi's not an hour before, was crawling with colonial police, Federation soldiers, and several Titans agents.

“Dammit!” Kiyone said as she surveyed the bedlam of the investigation going on. “What a way to end an evening!”