Mu and I stepped off our machines and into the port catapult deck of the Dominion. We left the Strike and the Glowsaver in the MS hangar, but they weren't unguarded. I'd left a handful of Megillots behind with a simple directive: anyone approaching the units without authorization was to be neutralized immediately. If the Dominion's deck crew valued their lives, they'd stay clear. If they didn't, well—that was natural selection at work.
"It's... quieter than I expected," Mu whispered as we moved through the corridors.
I nodded. As we navigated the passageways leading away from the hangar, we didn't encounter any security details or elite guards. Instead, we saw terrified maintenance crews, panicked operators, and even a bewildered cook from the galley.
"The bridge knows we're here," I said. "We didn't exactly sneak in through the vents; we flew through the front door. The hangar crew has definitely reported in by now. Which means..."
"Which means they're waiting for us at the only place that matters," Mu finished, his grip tightening on his service pistol. "The bridge."
"Likely with every security officer they have left."
"Hmph. Sounds like a typical Blue Cosmos play."
Mu was ready. I, however, didn't reach for a standard-issue sidearm. Instead, I accessed my Spatial Storage, scrolling through the mental manifest until I found a custom-modified pistol designed by Lemon's technical team. While I was confident I could take down any normal human on this ship with my bare hands, there was no reason to be reckless.
"I'm tellin' ya, Axel... that ability of yours is something else," Mu muttered, watching me pull a high-tech weapon out of thin air.
"Is it? Lemon used to say the same thing."
To me, the storage was as natural as breathing, but I suppose to someone from this timeline, it looked like sorcery.
We reached the final bulkhead leading to the bridge. The hallway was empty, but through the T-LINK system, I could feel the jagged, clumsy pulses of killing intent radiating from behind the door.
"What's the play? I'm not really in the mood for a suicide charge," Mu said.
"Neither am I. We could storm it easily enough, but we have to ensure Natarle doesn't get caught in the crossfire. And preferably the non-Blue Cosmos bridge crew, too."
It felt a bit hypocritical to worry about casualties after the number of Alliance pilots I'd just sent to the void, but these were Natarle's people—Mu's people. If I could save them, I would.
"So, we're taking a five-minute break," I said, sliding down to sit against the corridor wall.
"What? Axel, this isn't the time for—"
"Sit down, Mu. Do you want to save her or not?"
Gritting his teeth, Mu reluctantly lowered himself beside me. "Fine. What are we waiting for?"
"Just watch."
I opened the Spatial Storage again and summoned the Slime. Mu let out a startled "Whoa!" as the silver, gelatinous mass materialized on the floor.
"You've never seen it before?" I asked.
"I've heard the rumors, but seeing it in person is... unsettling."
"It's an extension of my will," I explained, closing my eyes to focus. "It senses sound, temperature, and vibration. It's the ultimate scout."
I projected my intent into the Slime. It began to stretch, thinning itself out until it was a mere millimeter thick. It slipped into a maintenance hatch, navigated the conduits, and bypassed the security seals. I guided it through the ceiling panels of the bridge until it was directly above the command center.
Through the Slime's sensors, I "heard" the room. Nineteen heartbeats. Nine were the regular bridge crew; ten were combatants.
Drip. Drip.
I heard a soft groan—Natarle's voice. She was holding back a cry of pain. That dripping sound... was it sweat? Or blood?
"Damn you! Damn you all!" Azrael's voice shrieked, high-pitched and bordering on a nervous breakdown. "Why can't you just do as you're told? Why does everyone have to resist me? When this is over, I'll have you all court-martialed! Every last one of you!"
He was spiraling. Just like the original timeline, the pressure had snapped his fragile ego. If Natarle was bleeding, he'd likely shot her himself before we even arrived. Nine shooters were currently aimed at the door, waiting for us to breach.
"There are ten combatants, including Azrael," I whispered to Mu. "Nine are aimed at the door. One is Azrael, and he's currently lording over the crew."
"And Natarle?" Mu's voice was a low growl.
"The bad news is that Azrael has already opened fire. He hit Natarle."
Mu's face went pale, then hardened into a mask of pure, cold fury.
"She's alive," I added quickly. "It doesn't look fatal yet. Now, listen. I have to focus on the Slime, so the breach is all on you."
"Got it."
"Don't worry about the crossfire. I'm going to use the Slime to create a physical barrier between the shooters and the bridge crew. Once that silver wall goes up, you go in loud. Empty your clip."
Mu gave a sharp nod. I centered my mind, drawing a massive amount of mass from the Slime's core in the ceiling.
"Go!"
Mu exploded through the doors like a hunting hound. Simultaneously, I dropped the Slime from the ceiling, instantly hardening it into a shimmering silver curtain that cut the bridge in half—protecting Natarle and the crew while leaving the shooters exposed.
"What the—?! What is this?!" one of the gunmen screamed.
Mu didn't give them time to figure it out. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!
His shots were rhythmic and precise. I counted the bodies hitting the floor. Five... six... seven...
"Mu, back out! Now!" I barked.
Mu dived back into the hallway just as I shifted the Slime's shape. The silver wall sprouted a dozen jagged, razor-sharp spears that lunged forward with the speed of a piston.
"Gah!"
"What is—?!"
"AAAAAGH!"
Three more cries of agony, followed by the heavy thud of falling bodies. I retracted the spears, the Slime returning to its inert, fluid state.
"Mu, check the room. I'll keep the Slime ready, but it shouldn't attack you unless I tell it to."
Mu stepped cautiously back onto the bridge. After a moment, he called out, "OK. It's clear."
I walked in behind him, recalling the Slime into my storage. The bridge was a grizzly sight. Ten men lay on the floor; most were dead, a few were gasping their last breaths.
Surprisingly, Azrael was among the living. He lay slumped against a console, unconscious but breathing.
"Mu? And... Axel Almar?"
Mu ignored the bodies and rushed to the command chair where Natarle sat, clutching her leg.
"Natarle! Are you okay?"
"I... I was shot in the leg, but I'll live," she gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "But Mu... why are you here? Weren't you transferred as an instructor?"
"I had a bad feeling back at Alaska," Mu said, his voice softening as he checked her wound. "I ended up back on the Archangel and got caught in the Cyclops blast. Long story."
"I see. I tried to find where you were stationed, but the records were... erased."
"Well, I'm here now. And I'm working with Orb." Mu looked up at me. "So, Axel. What's the next move?"
"We take Natarle back as a 'prisoner,'" I said. "As for the Dominion... they're going back to the Moon. Without their Captain."
Mu looked confused. "You're letting the ship go?"
"We need someone to tell the story," I explained, glancing at the survivors of the bridge crew. "If we just vanish, the Alliance and ZAFT will keep poking at us. I need them to go back and give a detailed report on exactly how badly they were beaten. We need them to fear us."
I turned my gaze to the unconscious Azrael.
"And him?" Mu asked. "I thought we were here to end him."
"That was the plan. But if he's alive, he's more useful as a scapegoat. Once this war ends, the Alliance is going to need someone to blame for every atrocity, every failure, and every war crime. Muruta Azrael is the perfect candidate to take the fall for everything."
"A sacrificial lamb," Mu mused. "Considering what Blue Cosmos has done, it's poetic justice. Right, then."
Mu swept Natarle up into his arms in a bridal carry. "Whoa! Mu, what are you doing?!" she protested, her face flushing crimson.
"I'm rescuing you. Pipe down."
I looked at the two of them, then looked at the heap of trash that was Azrael. Mu got to carry his lover; I had to haul a war criminal over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I sighed, hoisted Azrael up, and headed for the exit.
"Natarle, give the order," I said.
Natarle, even while being carried by Mu, regained her composure and saluted her crew. "Attention! This is Captain Badgiruel. You have your orders. Collect the remaining fleet and return to the Moon base. Submit a full combat report to HQ. You've followed my lead through hell and back... thank you for your service."
The bridge crew returned the salute, their faces a mix of grief and relief.
We made our way back to the hangar. As I'd expected, the Dominion's engineers were standing well back from the Glowsaver and the Strike. There wasn't a single scratch on either machine, and the Megillots were still circling like silent sentinels.
We boarded our suits and launched, leaving the broken flagship behind as we burned toward the Archangel.
Pilot Status: Axel Almar
Level: 37
Kill Count: 361
Spirit Commands: Accel, Effort, Focus, Direct Hit, Awaken, Love.
Tactical Update: Muruta Azrael captured. Natarle Badgiruel rescued. Dominion and remaining Alliance fleet in retreat.
Current Location: En route to Archangel for debriefing.
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