Gundam Wing: Blaze Of Glory

1. Part 4: Parsifal

Written by Justin A. Swartz (jswartz82@yahoo.com)

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its names, figures, places, and respective merchandise belong to Sunrise/Bandai and Yoshiyuki Tomino. The Ducat Vanguard, Ducat Libreiel, Alexia Rader, and the original mobile suits described in this story are of my creation and belong to me. Any use of them without my permission is prohibited.

Alexia Rader stared out into the hangar of LQ-318, watching as the Guardian and Defender were being prepped for battle. In the ice-blue lights of the darkened hangar, she appeared like a ghost watching over a precession of the dead. She had to admit that this sudden operation in Sudan would be her first taste of land combat, the “real stuff” that everyone spoke of.

She was beyond terrified as she watched her own Centurion get its final check. The Centurion was the infantry mobile suit, an adaptation of the old Taurus suit to give it more firepower and a more knightly appearance, replete with a long rectangular shield.

She could barely control the subtle shaking in her limbs. She had never really been one to pray, but at that moment she said a small one to whatever being existed upstairs. She really didn’t know why…it just felt like the right thing to do.

What she really wanted was a comforting word, an encouraging thought, instead of this hangar. She started to move down the walkway and toward a door that would lead her back into the base.

That’s when the door opened, and Quatre Winner stepped through it. Gosh, was he cute! She chided herself for thinking like that during such a tense situation, but she couldn’t help herself. His blue eyes scanned around the hangar until they found her hazel ones. Alexia felt her heart stop; Quatre had that kind of power over girls, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

Alexia quickly put on her brave mask and shouted a greeting. Quatre waved and made his way over to her.

“Hi there,” he said. “Not much going on, I take it?”

“Nothing except waiting,” she said. “I thought I’d come down here for a bit.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll be calling a quick meeting in the lounge for all of us in a few minutes, though.”

“What for? Did something change?”

Quatre shook his head. “No. It’s a prayer meeting.”

Alexia stared in his soul. “Prayer meeting.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Christian or not; a prayer never hurt anyone.”

“I’d like that.”

One eye probed her. “Jitters?”

She hid her shaking hands. “Something like that, yes.”

Quatre looked at her completely, putting his hands on her shoulders. There was warmth in his touch, comfort too. It was exactly what she had prayed for.

“Nothing really prepares you for it. All you can do is try your best. Remember what Miss Noin taught you and stick close to her.” He smiled. “Better yet, stick close to Trowa if you can. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Can I stick close to you instead?” Alexia asked. She started turning shades of red; where had that come from?

Quatre took it in stride. “I’ll be too close to the front. It’s better if you stay in the back with Miss Noin or the long-range support.”

Alexia nodded. The mask had cracked for a moment and she wasn’t proud of that. She’d have to do better in the future, but with a guy like Quatre around, that would be hard to do.

“The meeting will be in five minutes,” Quatre said, taking a last look at his mobile suit. “See you there, Alexia.” He smiled again, an action that sent the girl’s heart fluttering, and he was out the door.

“Real smooth,” she said to herself, leaning against the railing of the walkway. “Super smooth.” She smiled. “Still, he sure is cute.”

*<>*

“Sir, I have a message from General Lyons,” Miria said over the intercom. Ducat was sipping at a mug of fresh coffee, letting it warm his stomach and punch thorugh his veins.

“Put him through, dear,” he said. There was a crackle, and then a voice that sounded like it was coming from an eternally empty bucket came into the office.

“Commander Ducat, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lyons said. He was a bear of a man, one that would not give up on a fight until you had cut off his head…yes, this you could tell from just his voice alone.

“Not at all, General. Please, give me your status,” Ducat said.

“Commander, we’ve pushed the Preventers back into the main city streets. The locals tried to start riots against both our parties, but we put them down easily.”

“In other words, they’re right where we want them.”

“Quite, sir.”

That devil’s smile crossed over Ducat’s lips again.

“Target one of the old petrol lines and blow it up. Set the whole field on fire and make sure the fire makes it to the city.”

“Consider it done, sir. Lyons out.”

There was another crackle as the transmission ended. Ducat smiled wider as he imagined the Preventer mobile suits trapped within the streets of Sudan, all cuddled together with the innocent people, just begging from someone to come and kill them all, just crying out for his forces to put an end to their despicable, hopeless lives.

He was reaching for his coffee when the intercom beeped again.

“Sir, it’s General Lyons again,” Miria announced. “I’ll put him through.”

A crackle. Then:

“Commander, our observers near LQ-318 report that the Red Blaze’s main force is preparing for a strike!”

Ducat felt a river of rage flow through him, travel to his brain and overload it with the overpowering emotion to break something.

“They’ve decided to take Sudan back,” he said quietly. “Sorry Quatre, but I can’t let you have it.” He tapped his fingers on his desk for brief moments and then stopped. “Deploy the Napolean corps. Put Parsifal in charge.”

“The Napoleans haven’t held up well in the heat, sir.”

“They’ll manage long enough if Parsifal’s commanding.”

“Yes sir. I’ll see to it.”

The communication ended as Ducat began to calm down. He hadn’t lost his temper that time, but he had come close. He had to keep a grip on things, on himself, or he was never going to overcome the Earth Sphere.

They would pay for what they had done to him, to his family.

He would see to that with Parsifal.

*<>*