Merc

Trowa's POV

_______________________________

Everything was set. The layout of the circus was perfect, with the main body of living quarters to the east, the performance tents on the west side, and the base farther west than that. It meant that when the bullets started to fly, the performers would run away from the direction of destruction.

I left the trailer and the recovering pilot on the easternmost border of the circus layout.

A few hours before the performance, I did a final recon trip. Stealth got me past the first fence on the far side of the base, and I made my way to the chain link fence surrounding the runway of the shuttle port. It was dark; I was just a shadow amongst shadows, but my infrared binoculars let me see the activities of the Oz workers like it was high noon. They were loading supplies into the carriers, a lot of supplies.

The carrier they were currently loading was carrying enough supplies for twenty shuttles, meaning Oz was starting to position their space army in preparation for conquest. Not if I could help it, not from this base, anyways.

Everything set up, I prepared for what was coming. As, I waited in the cockpit for Manager to announce me, I felt a thrill of excitement course through me. No fear, just anxious, waiting for my cue, impatiently waiting for a desired event.

Freedom. I felt free.

For the first time in my life, I took complete control. My death would no longer be by the hands of someone faster or smarter than me, someone who got a lucky shot off. I was the one who was going to push the button. I controlled the moment of my death; I had the final say in the exact method, the exact cause, the exact location…it was rapture.

Then the spotlight hit me, and I breathed in the tense air. The crowd was confused and excited, wondering what was going to happen, marveling at my suit; expressions of wonder filled the tent as we stood, waiting. Now, it was time for my self-detonation show.

And all hell broke loose.

The first of the shuttles took off from the port and I started firing, lighting up the airborne transport. Screams echoed in the tent as they fled; the shredded canvas collapsed around me as I exited through the gap created by my bullets.

The carriers were all lined up on the runway, and a few rounds from the gat took them out with a blaze. My next targets were the storage tanks. This was my last battle, no need to save ammunition. Before I could take out the tanks, two Ares charged me. My knife took them out without difficulty. Some Leo’s and a hover suit had been powered up by this point, and they were riddled with bullets quickly enough.

Chaos and explosions surrounded me, but I was centered and certain. Missiles took out the fuel tanks, and everything burned. Debris floated up into the smoke surrounding me, dust particles caught fire and flew through the air like fireflies. I had spent my entire life alone, surrounded by people but completely isolated, by circumstance and by choice.

I stood there, for what seemed like only moments, taking in the scene, observing my exit setting and reveling in shedding the shackles Oz had placed on me. “This is the end.”

Movement caught my eye.

The external cameras showed Catherine running up to Heavyarms yelling, only a few meters from the suit that was about to explode. I switched on the external speakers. “Catherine, stay away from here. I am going to self-detonate along with him.”

“What do you mean, Trowa? Come down here and let’s talk things out. Come on, hurry!” There was fear in her voice, but she was determined; she wouldn’t leave.

More movement registered. One of the downed Leo’s found enough power to raise itself from the debris and took aim.

Time slowed, my movements heavy and seemingly endless. It seemed as if I had all the time in the world and no time at all. “Catherine!” I yelled a warning, but there was nothing she could do to stop her approaching death.

Death. The thought in my mind shook me, and I threw Heavyarms in between her and the shot that would end her existence. The heavy suit flipped, protecting the head and chest from harm, feet landing and skidding to a halt in front of her just as the shot fired crashed into the left leg. My gatling gun took out the suit before it could get another shot off.

“Stay away, Catherine. I’ve got to go through with this.” Heavyarms was kneeling, it was the position in which we landed. The impact of gundanium on tarmac had kicked up slabs of concrete.

She climbed up on the highest slab, drawing close to the hatch. “Trowa? Trowa!” She was always smiling, but wasn’t smiling now. She was angry, tears filling her eyes. I released the hatch, and stepped out of the cockpit. She had to understand; she had to leave.

Catherine made the significant leap from the slab to the hatch, running towards me at full speed. I knew her intentions, and I didn’t flinch as she punched me square in the cheek. She had a good swing; she ended up crouched at my feet, staying eye-level, forcing her opinion on me.

“Don’t you think your life is a little too valuable for that?!” My eyes widened at her words; my life had never had value before…a nameless soldier on the lines, but she continued, mercilessly throwing phrases I didn’t understand at me. “Self-detonate? What are you thinking?! What would your mother and father think of such a hasty and selfish decision?!” I never had a mother or father, what would they care?

“Did you even give a thought to the people you’d leave behind? You’re the most pathetic person I’ve ever met!” She slammed her fists into my legs as she spoke. “You didn’t think about us…the people you’d leave behind. We’d have to keep on living in sorrow.”

Her head was bowed, tears streaming from her face and wetting my jeans. She was crying. Was she crying for me or because of me? She hiccupped. “Coward.” She breathed, crying through the insult.

I hesitated, unsure what to do. What experience did I have of comforting people? I set a hand on one shoulder; I had seen some of the mercs do that now and again. If one of the guys lost a friend in battle another one would offer a hand. It seemed to calm her some.

The red of the self-destruct button caught my eye as she pulled herself together in front of me. I couldn’t do it, not with her here with me, not with her tears staining my clothes. Not with her words ringing in my ears.

She called me pathetic…she called me a coward. I’d been called the former before, and it didn’t bother me. But ‘coward’ unsettled me. How was I a coward?

Most normal people fear death; I not only didn’t fear it, but was willing to bring it down upon my own head. They are the cowards, and I am about as far from the term ‘normal’ as one can be. Maybe too far, am I backward?

Am I so backward that I don’t fear death, but fear living? That would make her term for me just; if I feared living, then finding a way to kill myself would be a show of cowardice. But I don’t live in fear; I don’t feel that emotion often at all. I think that sliver that shot through me when I saw Catherine in danger was the first time I felt fear…

No, that’s not right. I held fear within me when I thought I had let the other pilot die with my carelessness.

How then am I a coward?

She said I didn’t think of them: ‘the people I would leave behind;’ I didn’t realize I had people that would consider themselves ‘left behind.’ She cried. Would I feel the same if the situations were reversed? No, I don’t think so; I’ve been exposed to death for as long as I could remember. There’s nothing to do for the dead but leave them be.

But I tried to save her, to keep death from claiming her…and him. But if it had taken them…I would feel guilt, remorse, and then move on as I always had. And leave the dead behind.

But she spoke of leaving the living behind as if that was the more serious fault. Didn’t I want the ones I left to be living? It didn’t make sense.

The circus was done as my cover, and I had to leave quickly or else I could put everyone in danger. The other pilot came with me, helping me load Heavyarms as best as he was able in his current condition.

He had made progress; he could walk now without difficulty, but his stamina was still decreased. And his left arm was very limited in its capabilities. Even small motions and slight weights like opening the refrigerator, or handing me a glass caused him pain. He never complained, but he would grimace or groan with certain motions, using the arm despite my warnings that it was too soon.

It was daytime as we departed, both of us pilots in the cab of the truck. Catherine had climbed up to the window on the passenger side to say goodbye and issue a warning joke to the other pilot about brainwashing me with his ideals before jumping to the ground.

“That girl’s tears stopped me. If you were in my shoes, you still would have done it, right? Now you should know why I admire your strength.” I couldn’t help the confession. There was angst and guilt whirling within me, warring over who ruled. I had put the circus members in danger with my stunt; I had further endangered the colonies by adding fuel to the smoldering embers of Oz’s wrath. And the brief feeling of freedom had turned into the feel of chains and handcuffs.

“I said this before. The only way to live a good life is to act on your emotions.” He was angry, and I wasn’t sure why. He didn’t act any differently as he was helping me load, so I can only assume it was just now that the feeling surfaced. Was it that I didn’t carry out my intentions? He would have shown that earlier, though.

No, he seemed relieved when I walked back into the trailer that night. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t say anything except, “goodnight, Trowa” as I lay my head down on the couch.

So why was he angry now? Maybe he didn’t like repeating himself…or maybe he was only repeating himself because there was something he was trying to tell me that I wasn’t getting. Maybe it was frustration instead.

I really couldn’t think of this right now. “Lets get going.”

“Yeah” There was no longer anger there; now it was disappointment, resignation.

I had missed something. Now the question was: what?

__________________________


Hope you liked it, reviews and votes appreciated.

A.