The Albion military cargo plane was another creation of the English manufacturer Merseyside. The Liverpool-based company was responsible for a good portion of the equipment used by the British Royal Forces, be it the navy or the air force. The version transporting Gabriel and his new M.M.U. to Kyoto was the newest among them, and its appearance gave that away. The interior, large enough to transport four M.M.U.s lying down, had an impeccable finish in silver metal, perfectly concealing joints and screws that Gabriel knew were still there.
The pilot climbed the ladder towards the cockpit. His 3-hour flight was nearing the end of its first hour, so he still had time. The automatic cockpit door opened; Gabriel knew the Albion's pilot well and perhaps even dared to call Henry Enfield a friend.
When the two men responsible for piloting the aircraft stood up to greet him, Gabriel finally realized the promotion his Ace medal had brought as a consequence.
"First Lieutenant Sirghi."
Gabriel observed Enfield for a moment; the Englishman born in the south of England was two years older, though they had graduated together from the Royal Academy. At this stage of human evolution, glasses were optional, and Henry's choice was evident. For years he had worn the same model, and there was a certain roguishness in the R.A.F. lieutenant's features. And his small smile at that moment was a sign that his friend's new rank was to be mocked.
"At ease, gentlemen."
The co-pilot returned to his position, while Henry extended his hand, greeting Gabriel, who asked curiously.
"What are you doing piloting a plane?"
"I was promoted, apparently. This here is just an appetizer." He patted the seat where he had been until recently. "My real new toy is the Avalon."
Gabriel nodded, noticing the Aegis emblem beneath the R.A.F. symbol on his companion's black and blue uniform, just as it was on his own. The distinction between the terrestrial military forces and Aegis was becoming increasingly blurred. Returning to Henry's revelation, he wondered if it wasn't a waste to give up such a talented M.M.U. pilot.
"I hate to admit this in front of you, but losing you as a M.M.U. pilot doesn't seem like a wise decision."
Henry gestured with his hands as if to say, "What can you do?" and sat down again in his seat.
"Orders are orders, and in the end, I won't stop being a pilot 24/7. The other machine we're carrying is a prototype I'll be testing."
Gabriel had indeed studied the machine next to his before going up to the cockpit.
"Obviously, it doesn't have all the bells and whistles of your new little toy, but it's an updated version of the base Gawains we've used for the past few years."
Henry glanced sideways at Gabriel, then turned his attention back to the aircraft's controls, continuing.
"Why don't you go rest? We still have almost two hours of flight, and you look like a zombie."
This was Henry's way of showing concern for his friend, who merely nodded. He could no longer hide the sleepless nights since the operation, not from people who had known him for so long.
"And don't worry, we have an escort today."
Henry pointed to the plane's window, and three Gawains were flying a little ahead. Even knowing it would be impossible to sleep without his heavy drugs, he accepted the recommendation, leaving the cockpit.
As expected, he couldn't fall asleep, and the dreams that wouldn't come were replaced by memories. Weeks earlier, still in London, he had visited the office of the man responsible for Operation Moonfall. The office, modern and pristine at the same time, was different from the superiors' rooms he had visited before. Major Gianluca Pellegrini's office didn't have his medals or trophies displayed; the man didn't give them the same importance as his colleagues.
Pellegrini observed the papers on his desk, and then Gabriel, who waited impassively in the center of the room. The letter requesting a discharge from military service, handwritten by the young pilot, had reached him hours before.
"I won't congratulate you on the mission; I'm sure you've received more of those than you'd wish since your return, especially for a mission you don't even consider a success."
He placed Gabriel's letter on the table and stood up, walking to the large office window overlooking the base's runway, before continuing.
"I cannot accept your request, Sirghi."
"For what reason, sir?"
Gabriel tried to remain calm, and the experienced major turned to him with a faint smile; he had obviously noticed the young subordinate's irritation. He walked over to Gabriel, standing beside him without making eye contact.
"We can't let go of an Ace so easily. Have you heard that classic story, that with great power comes great responsibility? Your power is your talent, Gabriel Sirghi."
Talent? Talent in destroying? Talent in taking lives? Six years of military service, and he no longer even knew how many lives he had put an end to. He trembled involuntarily while doing mundane tasks. He could no longer sleep, heard unfamiliar voices asking for help and begging for their lives. Without the help of prescription drugs, he couldn't get more than a few hours of sleep daily. What damned talent was this that trapped him in a role his body and mind could no longer endure?
"...The talent to end this conflict."
As if the man had read his mind, the Major's answer made Gabriel look at him in surprise.
"You will be the pilot of one of the machines that will change and finally end this war of over a century. It's not an order, Sirghi, but a request: Fight for a future where children don't have to go through what you went through. So that the next generation can exchange the rifle and sword for books and peace."
Pellegrini sat down again and gestured for Gabriel to take the letter.
"This is my selfish request to you. We will transfer you to a new division, created in partnership between our organization and the other armies on the planet. Give us this chance, and if, in the end, you still want to leave the Royal Air Force, I will not stop you."
Back from his memories, in his cabin on the Albion aircraft, Gabriel held the letter he had written to rid himself of the weight of responsibilities he never knew how to carry. Could a murderer of thousands truly change the future of the world?
His laments and doubts, however, were interrupted by a loud explosion coming from a point near the plane.
"First Lieutenant!"
Henry Enfield sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
"I think you'd better pop up to the cockpit!"
Running, Gabriel took only a few minutes to reach the cockpit, observing through the window. The aircraft was already flying at a low altitude, while the Gawains defended themselves from a barrage of gunfire from an unidentified origin.
"U.S.C.?"
"Probably!" He then pointed to the aircraft's radar, which seemed faulty. "They probably used a signal jammer, but I'll bet a few beers they're U.S.C. forces stationed on Earth. It'll still be a while before our backup arrives, since we lost the signal a short time ago!"
With the signal interruption, the base in Kyoto would understand it as a problem, sending help, but they didn't have the luxury of time. Gabriel looked out the window again; being forced to work only with visual identification would be quite a challenge. It was then that their aggressors finally revealed themselves. Similar to the U.S.C.'s lunar Aquarius M.M.U.s, the Capricorn series possessed the same speed but traded close-quarters combat for a longer range in their armaments.
And this capability for longer-range battle claimed the first victim in the combat, when one of the shots hit one of the escort units.
The U.S.C.'s silver M.M.U.s quickly destroyed the two remaining Gawain units, and the obvious lack of a direct attack on the Albion indicated that perhaps the objective was the transported cargo. Options were limited, but Gabriel would use what he had at his disposal to escape the situation; one of the tools would be Henry Enfield's skills.
"How low can you get this thing?"
Henry looked at Gabriel and quickly understood what his friend was getting at.
"I can practically turn this thing into a car!"
The co-pilot looked startled at Henry, who simply slapped the man's arm. Gabriel nodded, and motioning to leave the cockpit, continued.
"Let's make the biggest mess possible; we need to create a dust cloud dense enough for them to lose visual!"
"Yes, sir!"
The co-pilot again observed Henry in panic, who admitted he was about to perform an almost suicidal maneuver; he would need the man's help, so he decided to encourage him.
"Do what I ask, when I ask, and maybe it'll all work out!"
Maybe.
<>
A few meters from the Albion, the pilots of the four Capricorns observed the wreckage of the terrestrial M.M.U.s they had just destroyed. The mission was simple: capture the ship and take its contents to the U.S.C.'s secret operations base on Earth.
Morale was low after the defeat on the moon, and contact with off-planet forces was limited. However, this mission, received days earlier, was perhaps the way out for the pilot and his squadron from the planet he so detested. If they completed the mission, perhaps they would finally be free of the cursed gravity and the people who disgusted him.
The squadron leader watched the enemy aircraft make a rather risky maneuver, descending to a ridiculously low altitude. He ordered his comrades to approach, and they quickly did so.
The surprise, however, was the dust kicked up by the ship's maneuver. Lightly touching the ground and using its side thrusters, a large curtain of debris and sand from the desert zone they had just entered polluted the sky where they were.
"Zero visibility, sir!"
He ignored the subordinate's message and accelerated through the gigantic dust cloud. It didn't take long for him to find the ship again, still flying very low.
"Captain, the hatch is open!"
The man was right; the ship's hangar hatch was open. They accelerated to approach the ship once more and get a better understanding of what was happening, and then...
The unit beside him exploded suddenly, then another, and then the next. By pure reflex, the U.S.C. captain turned towards where there was still a gigantic curtain of sand and dust. The black silhouette in the shadows of a M.M.U. seemed like that of a terrible creature. Blue lights shone, giving form to its wings and its visor, which looked like the gaze of a predator about to devour more prey, and then, for a second and no more, he saw a laser, also blue, being fired by the silhouette. His lament was lost along with the explosion of his M.M.U. After a mere four shots, his squadron ceased to exist.
Henry and his co-pilot celebrated the victory with shouts and air punches; the risky maneuver of the two had paid off, and the cold sweat of both indicated they weren't sure it would work. Anyway, the pilot called Gabriel on the radio.
"Well, what do you know, it worked! What do you think of your new toy, First Lieutenant?"
The answer took a few seconds. Gabriel observed the familiar interior of his new M.M.U., but the similarities stopped there and with the little of the appearance it inherited from the Gawains and Gareths of the previous generation.
"I'll just say it was a billion pounds well spent."
The pilots laughed at the response as they finally completed the maneuver, facing the machine that had saved their lives. The dust had already settled, and the M.M.U.'s silhouette took shape; its appearance was sleeker than its predecessor's. White still predominated, but the blue of its somewhat larger wings and its more menacing visor gave it an impressive look.
M.M.U. Camelot Series 00EX, Codename: Arthur.