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“Welcome aboard the Sodon! Ensign Xavier Olivette, right?”
The woman’s voice is just barely too loud for the cavernous interior of the docking bay. But Xavier notices the pin on her jacket that indicates her rank as Second Lieutenant and manages to smile thinly.
“Thank you,” he says, “this is an impressive ship.”
It is an impressive ship—the only true Pegasus class in the entire Zeon fleet. Stolen technology, if rumor is to be believed (and Xavier doesn’t not believe, he’s just equally skeptical in both directions).
“You came all the way from Granada? That’s a pretty long trip!” The woman motions to one of the other crewmen in the docking bay, who gives her a thumbs-up.
“I don’t have any other luggage,” Xavier says, a little too quickly, “just this.” He hefts the bag on his shoulder.
“Oh,” the woman says, and she opens her mouth to say something else, but Xavier cuts her off.
“I can take it to my quarters myself,” he insists, “you don’t need to send someone else to do it.”
“Okay,” the woman says, “I was planning to show you around the ship first, is all. You’re going to carry that the whole time?”
“It’s fine,” Xavier says, “I don’t mind. Really.”
The woman looks at him. For a moment Xavier is scared she’s going to disapprove somehow, send him right back onto his shuttle. And then she shrugs and says “Suit yourself!”
The woman kicks off the floor of the dock and the zero-gravity tumbles her up to the balcony with a door leading into the rest of the ship. It’s the kind of spaceborn grace that Zeon expects. Xavier follows her a moment later.
They’ve got something like artificial gravity inside the ship proper. Xavier lands with a thunk on the metal flooring and has to catch himself from toppling over. The woman is a few steps ahead of him already, and he half-jogs to catch up with her.
“Sorry, Second Lieutenant,” Xavier says, “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”
Xavier sees the woman mouth the words: “Second Lieutenant?” and then she looks over at him and says: “It’s Comoli. Comoli Harcourt. But most people just stick to Comoli.”
Xavier hesitates. She outranks him by a fairly significant margin. “Second Lieutenant Harcourt.”
“Just Comoli!” Harcourt says, with the barest hint of frustration, “this ship is too small for us to keep everything strictly formal, okay? Not to mention that the Lieutenant Colonel asked for you specifically, so…”
Xavier stiffens. He’d known this wasn’t a routine assignment, but… “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the Lieutenant Colonel like?”
He’s heard bits and pieces about Lieutenant Colonel Challia Bull. There was a picture of him in one of the offices at the Flanagan Institute. Challia Bull, one of the first ever identified Newtypes. Challia Bull, alleged progenitor of the MAV style of Mobile Suit combat. Challia Bull, longtime friend of—
“He’s sort of a mysterious person,” Harcourt says. “Sometimes you’ll be talking to him and he’ll just… go somewhere else. Lady Kycillia trusts him, though, and other than that he’s pretty easy to work with.”
“That’s good,” Xavier says, because he can’t think of something else to say.
Harcourt shows him the ship. She takes him on a circuitous route through the crew quarters so he can finally drop his ridiculous bag, then through the gunning stations, the secondary hangar, the comms block, and up to the bridge. She pretty much never stops talking, even if all Xavier can manage to respond with is a single word or a noise. He reminds himself to look her up in the crew registry later for information that might help him talk to her.
Finally they make it to the bridge. It’s a weird layout—the captain is positioned under two navigators, while the comms are off to the side, but the helmsman is standing right up at the end of the bridge, facing a number of windows. Everyone is dressed in crisp Zeon uniforms, dark green with black collars and white tights or trousers, little gold accents here and there. Xavier stands out in his civilian clothes, but he didn’t exactly have a uniform he could wear.
There’s a man standing near the helm. His back is to Xavier and Harcourt when they come through the door. He turns, and even though he doesn’t look much like the picture on that office wall anymore, Xavier recognizes him immediately.
“Ah,” says Challia Bull, “Ensign Olivette. I hope you had an easy flight in?”
Xavier stiffens, even though the question is totally ordinary. Harcourt goes over to talk to the woman Xavier assumes is the captain, if only due to her severely short hair and equally severe attitude.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Xavier says, “I appreciate the warm welcome.”
“That’s our Comoli!” Says one of the signal officers from a raised seat. Harcourt waves at her from below.
“I know you must be tired,” Challia says to Xavier, “but I’d like to discuss your assignment. Let’s take a walk.”
Xavier nods. It’s not like he can say no to the ship’s commanding officer.
He follows Challia back into the corridor. Seeing him up close, Xavier can recognize the shape of the man from the photograph. His hair and eyes are both a luminous minty green, and when he turns to smile at Xavier the expression reaches those eyes, wrinkled at the corners though they may be.
“You seem a bit nervous,” Challia says, “I don’t want to scare you, but this won’t necessarily be a typical first assignment.”
Xavier frowns. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s easier to show you. Did Lieutenant Harcourt take you to the secondary hangar?”
“No, she didn’t.”
Challia nods. “Good. Follow me, please.”
Xavier puts himself about a step-and-a-half behind Challia and follows him down the hall.
“What did you want to discuss about my assignment?” He asks, after a while.
“I’d like to start by giving you a promotion,” Challia says, very calmly, “to Second Lieutenant.”
Xavier goggles at him. “I’m honored, but…” I’ve hardly done anything to merit a promotion, he almost says. And then he thinks about how he won’t have an excuse not to call Second Lieutenant Harcourt by her first name, and doesn’t manage to finish the sentence.
“I know you’ve never been actively deployed,” Challia says, looking at Xavier over his shoulder. “Consider it an advance promotion, if you want. I just don’t think it’s fair to ask an ensign to pilot a Mobile Suit.”
Xavier freezes in place. “What?”
Challia takes one more step before he turns around. There’s genuine, good-natured concern on his features. “You’ve done it before, haven’t you? As part of Dr. Flanagan’s curriculum.”
“Well, yes,” Xavier says, “but that was just simulated combat. You want me to pilot the real thing?”
Challia nods. “I do.” And then he says: “I looked into your background, you know.”
Xavier glances down. He tries to keep himself from adopting a defensive posture, but a frown still pulls at the corners of his mouth. He waits for Challia to say it. “You’re from Loum. Nobody from that wreck of a colony ever gets very far.”
Instead, Challia says: “My crew does more traveling to the Sides than most, and not everyone knows how things are colony-side. When I read your dossier, I thought you’d be the best fit here.”
Xavier looks up. Challia is smiling at him, and it’s not the half-smile he’s seen so often. His mouth works uselessly—what is he supposed to say? Thank you?
“I’ll do my best,” he manages, stiffly.
“Good,” Challia says. “Risk and strategy are sometimes unhappy bedfellows, but someone I admire once taught me the value of taking chances, and I’ve done my best to live by that wisdom.”
And then his gaze turns distant, and Xavier remembers what Harcourt says: “Sometimes you’ll be talking to him and he’ll just go somewhere else.” But Challia turns and keeps walking and Xavier follows him.
The second hangar isn’t far from the first. It’s smaller, though, Xavier notices that right away. It’s got a Mobile Suit catapult at the far end, newly repaired by the look of the metal. There’s only one other notable thing in the hangar, and it’s impossible to miss.
“ This is what you want me to pilot?” Xavier says, somewhat incredulously.
“Yes,” Challia puts an appreciative hand on the Mobile Suit’s foot, which is all rounded edges and interconnected crescents and jutting angles. “It’s an experimental model. We’re very lucky to have been trusted with testing it.”
Then Challia turns to Xavier, and puts the whole weight of that luminous gaze on him. “Think you’re up to the task?”
You seem to think I am, Xavier keeps himself from saying. Instead he nods. “Yes, sir.”