P.O.W.

P.O.W.

Chapter 1

On the Battlefield


~*~


Milliardo Merquise silently made his way into the room. Even with his hands fastened together in front of him by the cumbersome handcuffs, he still exerted a soldier's grace of mobility. His noble heritage surrounded him like a cloak even despite his young age. His long mane of platinum blond hair fell down his back in a neat affair that even in captivity showed his vainness for his appearance. His face was calm even through the audience of predator's eyes that stared at him from the large semi circle table. He could only stare back at them with his intense blue eyes not making a sound as the door behind him closed with a loud bang that held a ring of finality to it.

Chained… treated like a common criminal. But the worst blow was the fact that it was done by the very people he was working to protect. Politics at it's finest. This was all a mere show for one man. And that man was in the honorary council spot as it was. It rather completed the 'Military Council of Fools' rather nicely. Maybe when it had first started as a group of nations that had banded together to stop the Empire there was some good in it. Now though politics and power, it made a folly of the cause as those least effective received the positions that more experienced people should have taken.

All around him he saw the old nobility. The people with families they could trace back to the time of kings. People who believed, that just because some great heroic granddaddy of there could wield a sword, that they had the ability to lead an army. This of course was the farthest thing from the truth. Even the old army generals that had been placed here because they found themselves unfit for actual combat were no help. A scared lot, those that were unwilling to go out in the field incase they might get hurt. They enjoyed their comfy posts so much they refused to go against the others in case they might get voted out of the council. There was also the undeniable fact that their ideas of battle have not been used in over fifty years.

All in all this created one thing. The most useless organization known to man and these were the people that had held him accountable for his 'crimes'. Crimes… that was biggest joke of them all. As captain of his squad it was his duty to make things run smoothly, keep as many people alive if he could, and beyond all things keep the Empire at bay. The war against the Empire had lasted for many years. It had been going on since his birth. His family had been one of the unfortunate victims in one of the Empire's raids. Even now the knowledge that his homeland had been taken over by the grasping reach of the Empire burned him. The council of course believed that risking a venture on such a small country was not worth the trouble or loss of troops on the regular front.

The regular front was a joke. The front consistently changed as the Empire was slowly eating away at its boundaries. The Empire had more people and weapons and eventually they would take over if all we did were to fight a defensive battle. Milliardo knew from experience that it was possible to fight the Empire on its own terms and win. That was what he had been doing for two years now. Ever since joining the battleground at eighteen and given a leadership position, more do to his noble heritage then his actually fighting and command abilities; he had worked to bring an end to the Empire's power in Euro.

He had used the men under him to the greatest advantage. He had been proud of the fact that his team usually boasted the least amount of casualties. His team was also the best trained as he insured that each of them was able to stand on there own in battle. It had been a hard and gruesome path from the awkward little soldier boy into the Lightning Count. That is what his team called him, the Lightning Count. They respected both Milliardo's skills in and out of battle. They knew he would never ask them to do anything he was not willing to do himself. Most of all they knew that he actually cared whether they lived or died.

His group had become known as one of the best. They were given the missions most people would have done anything to get out of. But Milliardo took them with the grim determination he did everything. It was for the betterment of the cause. Everything was for the cause. So when he was given the duty to overtake an Empiric base, he did what he always did. He followed his commands and took the base. The fight to get the base had been harder then first anticipated but he had been successful in defeating it with only two casualties. The problem was… one of those casualties was Iria Winner, daughter to Mr. Winner the head of the Winner Corporation and the largest supplier of weapons to the Euro troops.

Had Milliardo even known that fact when she had offered her services to lead five people on foot in a suicide attempt to blow up the missile site that was the only thing keeping their mobile suits at bay; he would had still allowed her to go. He had known Iria for a year just as his team was starting to make a name for itself as the most efficient group on the field. She had been a close friend to him as they often talked together about there ideals, what they were fighting for. She had easily made her way up in his team due to her command abilities even though her mobile suit fighting skills were only average.

That had been the reason she had asked to be in charge of the suicide group when Milliardo had asked for volunteers for it. The only way to stop the missiles was to destroy the source. The problem was that the mobile suits were too noticeable but a small team of people without there suits had the chance of getting close enough to set the bombs and run before the Empire even caught on to what was happening. That had been the plan and it had worked like magic except for one key thing. Just as the team was leaving the site they had been spotted. In response to the new obstacle, Iria had ordered that everyone was to split up in pairs except for her and to get back to the Lighting Count as soon as possible.

After that Milliardo did not know what happened to Iria. He had seen the missile site go up in the distance and at once charged the base taking it by surprise as the soldiers had been running to and from the missile site in order to stop the fires from reaching the base. The slaughter that had amassed was grim and short. With most of the soldiers out of their mobile suits they had been easy targets. The soldiers that were in mobile suits were just as easily over taken by odds of three to one. Only one other soldier had died in the conflict from fatal injuries. In the end Milliardo had been happy with the outcome. They had secured a base with only two deaths even though he did regret the loss of one his best team leaders.

The four men she had taken with her told him all they could about the mission they had returned from. They had later found her crumpled up body at the foot of the woods in the opposite direction of the team. He had suspected that she had urged the Empiric solders to follow her in order to let the others escape. Her body had been so riddled with bullets that Milliardo was sure that she had a quick end.

One of the men stood up from his place at the head of the table as he stared at Milliardo. Chief Commander Tuberaff, he was the one person who Milliardo hated beyond all the incompetents and frightened military men in the council. He never let anyone forget that he was the one in charge of everything. The power had corrupted him long ago. Once he had been told that Tuberaff had been a perfect solder deft in battle and in strategy, but years of praise had gotten into his head and now before him stood what remained of a warrior. A sadden husk of a former self, Tuberaff had become a bitter, pessimistic, conservative old man. No one had been able to budge him from his place on the council, as the general knew politics from his mother's tit.

"Having done extensive research on your battle record and finding you to be a fine solder, Count Marquise, on behave of the Council of Arms I am willing to give you a chance for redemption. You are to be placed back on your team but you will no longer allowed to be placed in a position of leader. After a year's time your case will be reviewed again and if you work is deemed satisfactory then you might be allowed a small command position."

Milliardo stayed quiet. He had nothing to say to the council. It was enough that they were not taking him off the field. He knew that they would never kick him out of the military all together. After all they needed all the military personnel they could get but this was definitely the compromise in order to keep Mr. Winner satisfied. After all as long as the company continued to sell massive amounts of armaments what did they care about a single soldier.

But a year was too long. He was not one to wait on the side when things needed to be done. If he were placed back on his team he knew who ever was to be placed in charge would be unable to cope with him. The team would never fully accept a replacement with the old captain so near at hand. Not to mention that he felt he himself would have trouble with a new leader.

"I would like to respectfully ask that I can be resigned from the army completely."

"You request is refused. You are under contract to serve a total of five years and desertion is punishable by death."

Milliardo looked at the person who had answered his request. General Septem, the one most paranoid member of the council. He believed in never wasting resources and that all sides must be manned. He was a coward but he was known to stress covering weaknesses that tended to be very helpful. He was never one to allow a single solder to leave before the contract was up. It was unfortunate that he considered solders no more then resources and not people but he did treat them as property and thus allowed for no ill treatment of the troops. He was also the biggest advocate in enacting the death penalty to deserters. He claimed that by killing them it would make all the others think before trying to do it themselves.

"As you say."

~*~

"Captain Merquise?"

Milliardo looked up at the screen that appeared in front of him as it called to him again. Lieutenant Otto looked at him though the screen obviously worried about him. That was the problem with the mobile suits... no privacy. Not that he had time to daydream. After all he was back in the front line in the middle of a war. This was not a time to think beyond the next battle. To do that was to ask for death.

Ever since he had come back to his team they all had a hard time adjusting. They expected him to be full of his old flame and take the system by the tail and continue on as the leader. As much as Milliardo would have loved to do what his friends wanted of him, he knew that the moment he made a move against the council's decisions that he would never officially be able to lead anyone ever again. It was times like this when desertion seemed like the best option.

"It's just Soldier Merquise now. Never forget that. Your the one in charge now, Lieutenant."

He almost felt sorry for Otto. Due to his fall from power, his friend had been forced to take temporary command of the team. It was not that Otto was not competent for the job but he did not think himself able to take over after the 'Lightning Count' or for that matter able to think of Milliardo as someone below him on the chain of power. It was also painfully obvious that he did not like being the one giving orders instead of taking them.

Otto had been with him since the very beginning. He had been in the army longer that Milliardo but was never suited to take the role of team leader. The fact that he was so high up the rung now was that Milliardo had been able to trust him to follow orders to exactness few were able to accomplish. Without someone giving him orders he was like a fish out of water and unfortunately the whole team knew it.

"Enemy sighted."

The words seemed to make the whole team perk up. This was their first mission after the return of their demoted captain. They were all hungry for action even if they did not like the recent changes. Milliardo hated to admit it but the simple words had been enough to make the blood pound inside him. It always troubled him about how much fighting excited him. As long as he could still fight he could care less what titles they took away from him after all no matter what he was a warrior first. They could never take the title of the Lightning Count from him. It was who he was.

"Fall out, men."

The small group of mobile suits left the shelter of the sand dunes that had been their camp since last night with quiet efficiency. No matter who was running the group now they could not forget the movements drilled into them. One of the reasons they had been so good was the fact that they were able to move together as a team should. It was a relief to see the techniques had not been forgotten or Milliardo would have had something else to worry about. They still did not trust Otto as they had done with him nor did they have the will to fight after seeing their commander put in just a state. This obviously was hurting their ability to fight against the enemy. Even if there were problems with the current state of things it was better then what would happen when the Empire took over them all. He would just have to find a way to get away from them. Once he was actually away the group might actually have a chance to pull together.

Suddenly the enemy was in his sights. It was a small group of seven mobile suits that were all out in the open. Not that that was a hard thing to do in the middle of the desert. Almost in added revenge to the team they had been sent to the front in the Middle East. It was the only area that they still held in the area. It was also one of the most disputed places due to the oil that lies beneath the surface. They were here to protect the oil drillers who were at work in the area.

Milliardo was thankful for the small number of suits before him. It would be an easy win. They outnumbered the enemy exactly three to one. With those kinds of numbers it was hard to think anything but a swift win especially with all his men trained so well. It would also help his teammates out; victory always did make everyone happier.

With a movement of Otto's suit's arm in the motion for charge the whole unit moved out swiftly surrounding the enemy. Not one was going to escape if they could help it. This was a common battle plan that the whole team knew and was comfortable with. Ease of practice merged with the excitement of confrontation as they waited for the enemies’ first move.

At once a single enemy mobile suit ran straight at the circle it's large broadsword shaped beam saber flew in it's right mechanical hand like liquid as the mobile suit did one thing Miliardo never thought possible. With one mechanical arm the enemy suit grabbed hold of the nearest 'head' of his team's suits and as it's boosters turned on for a heart beat allowing it to throw the enemy over the suit just as it's sword crunched through the armament of the one adjacently on it's left efficiently splicing the mobile suit in half. And as if that was enough, the force of it's short flight ended abruptly and it landed drawing the head of the suit it had first grabbed onto keeping it off balance to suddenly plunge it's sword right into the cock pit.

The whole affair had taken about 30 seconds… The aftermath took a few seconds to adjust to what they had just witnessed. The moments wasted were precious things that they had no time to spare as the actions of the first enemy seemed to give heart to the rest of it's own team as they charged into the ranks. Suddenly, Milliardo was facing a defensive battle. The enemy was pressing them with fervor. While the Lightning Count hated to admit it, it was obvious that they were better then most of his own team.

Gathering himself back together he threw himself at the enemy taking down as many as he could as fast as he was able to. One thing was clear in order to keep the casualties low he had to keep the fight as short as possible. Luckily he still found his skills were hardly at question against the enemy… at last there was only one suit left… it was the one that had first started the battle. It was also doing a damn good job of keeping the others at bay. It obviously knew that it could not take on a full score of men by itself.

"Lightning Count, your going to have to get this one. The little bugger's not going down as easy as the rest."

Otto's plea grated against Milliardo's nerves. What would they have done if he were not there? It only confirmed his fears about the strength of those around him. They would all be better off without him.

Pushing his thoughts out he entered the fray. The others held back forming a circle around him and the last enemy suit. They would keep the other from running to far from the battle. For a moment Milliardo thought about the suit before him. This pilot was good. Considering the speed from the rest of the enemies' attacks, there was nothing special about the suits. The pilots were definitely some of the best that he ever encountered and this one was the best of them. An ace to top the other aces. Where had this one been hiding? He knew that if anyone was that good rumors would be flung around about the enemy soldier. Milliardo moved forward knowing he was probably the only one able to stop the other.

Positioning himself in a defensive pose he waited for the other to make the first move. He did not have to wait long and their beam sabers locked as they strained to see who had the stronger suit. Switching position he pulled away from the other now knowing that the other's suit was the stronger. Not that it mattered; there are always other ways to defeat the enemy. He would show this soldier why they called him the Lightning Count.

Pushing his controls to their max he made quick work to charge and dodge the enemy. Only this time something was different. Somehow the other was able to take everything that Milliardo was giving him. Not only that but was also able to get in a few shots of his own. He had never met a pilot like this before. It could be the more powerful suit but somehow he knew it was the pilot that was really special.

It surprised him when at last one of his attacks connected with the other suit making it fall to the ground where it stayed unmoving. It was almost like it had been too easy. It was a simple feint that he was sure the other was going to block. Something was definitely not right it was as if the other had not even resisted the last attack. Opening his suit he was quick to jump to the ground and rush over to the enemy. He could not help the curiosity burning inside him as he wondered about the pilot.

As he opened the cockpit pit and blinked as his eyes stung from the foul smell that emerged from the opening. As soon as his eyes started to work again he looked down eagerly. He stared in horror as his eyes met the sad figure of the half starved young boy inside of the suit. The foul stench was coming from the figure. Massive amounts of sweat and lack of bathing facilities as well as the heavy urine smell that came from inside as well. It was obvious that they had been constantly moving if they did not even have time to stop to take care of that natural process. Looking at the gas dial Milliardo noticed that it was at its last stage as well. Three days then, less if it was not at full when they left. Looking down at the boy again he sighed as he pulled the restraints of the boy and lifted him from the large cockpit seat. Thankfully the boy was in a state of unconsciousness and was easily lifted from the seat. It troubled Milliardo to no end at how much the youth weighed in his arms. Whoever had done this too the child was beyond human. It was troubling to think that anyone could do this to a child.

"Quick, open the rest of the suits!"

Faced with this new bit of information Milliardo could not help but wonder how in the world the others were even able to fight in this condition. It was relief enough to find that the boy was still alive though. Looking at the others he found the other soldiers had piled around the other suits. It seemed that while he had been working on his, the others had already gone to the others. All six of them held a young boy in about the same condition as the one he now held. Who would do this to a bunch of children?

He watched as a hole was dug for the three pilots that had not made it through the fight. Two had been the enemy children. The one that was from his own team was the one who had been in the cockpit of the mobile suit that the enemy had first attacked. It had been pure luck that the one that had his mobile suit sliced open received only grazing injuries on one side though his mobile suit was in ruins. He stared at the hole for a moment before he helped the others fill it with sand hiding the corpses below. This could not be stood for. They had fought mere children. They had no right to be on a battlefield. This might have been a time of war but it had always been an accepted rule that children where to be left out of the war as much as possible.

While he was thinking Otto had taken his time to stand next to him observing the battle site still unable to believe the discovery. It was obvious the whole thing was also troubling him. Though Milliardo had to be fair. No one likes the idea of killing infants. In the back of his mind he remembered a few of the soldiers quietly leaving the group most likely to sick up what little they had for breakfast.

"We have to report this."

"I'll go."

He knew the look Otto was giving him as he had used it many times before when faced with the same situation. Not wanting to lose his best soldier and at the same time wanting to release the responsibility to someone he trusted. Finally he nodded there was nothing else he could do about it. Milliardo knew that he would hate leaving the battlefield but he was not helping the others be being there. The one soldier on their side would not have died and the spirits of the other men would be higher. Besides, there were now more important things to worry about. Milliardo could not help the feeling that this was not the end to his troubles.