| Space Ketchup and Jupiter Fries | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Summary: Even in the future, teenagers are hard to deal with. | |||
|
You enter the Mess Hall.
Argama - Mess Hall(#3106RntJ) [Katharon]
A spartan facility for spartan spacerevolutionaries, the mess features long tables and steel benches bolted to the floor. Several vending machines line the galley, with crude English scrawled on them, no doubt made in Hong Kong somewhere. "HAMBURGER" and "BEER?" are popular brands. Some more private booths line wall, allowing officers who just want to come in and get a quick cup of coffee before sortying can avoid rubbing shoulders with the grunts. One booth has a small sign, reading: "Reserved for Capt. Q. Bageena & Co."
Camille Bidan has arrived.
Roux Louka has arrived.
Rachel Miu Athha arrives from the Crew Quarters.
Rachel Miu Athha has arrived.
Judau Ashta arrives from the Crew Quarters.
Judau Ashta has arrived.
SOME TIME LATER
Roux, standing in the little part of the galley which is set out so people can cook their own goddamn dinner or whatever without disturbing Cooky the never-seen NPC cook, is watching broccoli boil. Her expression clearly says: Why am I doing this
Amuro Ray has arrived.
SOME TIME AGO
Jiron Amos wrestles a gigantic sand lizard in the Martian desert. He doesn't do so well, and ends up saying a few wrong things at the wrong time to make Captain Bright Noa kind of angry at him. He is not sure why he's angry, except that captains don't like not having the last word when it comes to... anything.
And then he falls off the lizard and tumbles thirty feet.
LESS TIME AGO
Jiron begins travelling back to the Argama on his Hovergy, mood foul. He didn't get the lizard, he's hungry, he's in "time out," /and/ Timp got away.
TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII--
EVEN LESS TIME AGO
Jiron lands his Hovergy on the Argama aound the same time some of the pilots actually get back up there. They're doing repairs, and he sneaks past most people unseen because it's funnier that way.
NOW
Jiron, having left a trail of red sand footprints, ends up in the mess. They end at the doorway, which is where he felt it was polite to kick off his shoes, or where he tripped and fell. He has ended up sitting at one of the long tables, bits of red sand everywhere on him, apparently cleaning his sidearm and waiting for whatever terrible thing Roux is concocting.
As far as the battle went, it hadn't been a bad one for the Zeta Gundam. Damage was minimal, so Camille was spared the lectures of Astonaige and any grumbling by the engineering crew. It did not change the fact that he found the martian environment distinctly disagreeable, not the least of which was the ever-present, however irrational fear that at any moment a Codarl could leap out from behind a sufficiently large boulder. More realistic concerns weighed on the Newtype's mind as he went through his personal post-battle ritual of R&R: The natures of the draconic mecha he fought, the consequences their failure here would have for the DC assault on Earth, the ultimate goals of Haman Karn. None of them were things he wanted to worry about as an ordinary pilot, but he couldn't help himself.
Feeling more relieved than ever that he at least had the luxury of /being/ a simple pilot and not actually having to decide on any of that, the pilot of the Zeta Gundam strolled into the mess hall with an appetite to be whetted, barely casting an eye over in Roux's direction and wondering how she managed to get here before him.
"Why are you doing that?" The inquiry is an off-handed one, as he keeps going straight past her without waiting for a response. Moments later he bits into a freshly dispensed hamburger, much better than broccoli.
Staren Wiremu arrives from the Crew Quarters.
Staren Wiremu has arrived.
She /wanted/ to help.
She always wants to help, but it's become something of an unspoken rule that Rachel Miu Athha is pushed right out of the hangar after a battle. The reasons are multiple and depend on the day of the week, but usually boil back down to things like the usual 'you work too hard as it is' and 'you just got out of a battle, go relax,' and 'just do it later.'
When Rachel arrives, the first thing she does is get one of the straw-topped bottles of space-prepped water, slumping down into a nearby chair and blowing out a breath before she seems to remember her manners-- and sits back upright, letting her mind wander and fret. She has reports to do, and data to send off to Anaheim, and Bright might just slap her for agreeing with Judau, and, and, and--
-- a-and, and, and--
Judau Ashta has a lot on his mind. He is confused, and worried.
"WOOOOHAH, did you see me out there?! I thought I was gonna die when that laser beam was all like, 'P-CHOWWWW!' But then I was all like, 'WUUUOOAAAGGHHH!' Seriously!"
Seriously.
Judau Ashta is also grinning like an idiot as he walks through the door of the mess hall. Hands locked behind the back of his head, the youth wears some simple black jeans and a wifebeater undershirt, his eyes are squint shut with the berth of his smile.
A smile that abruptly fades when he sees Roux -- cooking. He stares, uncomprehendingly. Then squints
"Are you..." his words trail lightly, seriously.
"... makin' me victory dinner??"
Animation error, Camille.
"Well," Roux answers Camille, without relly looking, "that's a pretty good question." She reaches over to pick up a little shaker of something and adds a very judicious amount. "But the real answer is because I'm the only one who knows how to get this right."
The broccoli smells like cabbage compounds being cooked. Jiron may well and rightly fear his demise. She also tells Camille, waving the little plastiwood spoon at him, "And if you keep eating those vending machine burgers you're going to die. They're like fish guts with salt and beef juice!"
Then she glares at Judau. "/No/, this is punishment detail. If you want some go into the galley and dig in the frozen section for another package."
The sound of clipped footfalls on the deck floor herald the arrival of..
"Captain on the deck!" Apolly shouts pre-emptively, leaping from his slouched position to salute.
This is of course a courtesy for all the younger pilots. If they know Bright is coming, they'll have plenty of time to get the hell out of the way.
The moment the aging Captain appears in the doorway, he just looks livid.
Jiron isn't sure what he smells. He thinks it's poison, or maybe some kind of cleaning agent for Walker Machines. They have a lot of robots in the hangar, so that makes sense, and you'd have to make it /somewhere/. He watches Roux prepare it from across the room, staring at the bubbling cauldron and wrinkling his nose a little.
It kind of reminds him of Elche's cooking.
Jiron greets all the assembling pilots with a raised hand and something of a wave as they come in, apparently glued to the spot. It isn't until the hamburger dispenser is revealed that Jiron actually starts to move, leaning, leaning--
When Bright comes in, he freezes, his foot and a couple of fingers on the bench, with the Civilian leaning across the empty gap and reaching out for the button with wide-eyed wonder on his face that quickly turns to something like nervous fear.
Captains, man.
"Sorry, did you change your name to Fa Yuiry in the last five minutes?" Camille eats his burger with /impunity/ after that, all the confident belief poor eating habits will never come backe at him in his mid-40s so common to young men of his age. "Whatever's in this, i'll take my chance rather than go anywhere near what you have brewing in there." He certainly wasn't using 'brew' in some clever reference to that thing witches do. That was not Camille's style at all.
"Who the hell tracked all this sand in here, by the way?" The question died on his mouth as he saw Jiron was also here, "Oh." And then Judau comes in with the world's biggest shit-eating grin, "Thanks for that out there, I think Bright's forgotten all about m-"
"CAPTAIN ON THE DECK!"
Camille instantly puts forth his best attempt at camouflaging into the wall with a sharp salute, staying as far from Captain Bright's path as possible and thankful for once that he had nothing to do with anything.
Judau storms on in, and he's right back to being his usual self. Rachel allows a small smile to form on her face, settling back in her seat just enough to become comfortable. And then, just before she can open her mouth, the white-haired girl is interrupted by--
Years and years of conditioning and training kick in all at once. Rachel is on her feet, the bottle of water left on the table while her back straightens and she stares straight forward, arm swinging up into a salute. It's only after a few moments that she stops, staring down at her feet, and then quietly shuffles herself back down to sit at the table.
Rachel shifts a bit in her seat. With the design of the Red Zeta's flight suit, wearing it with the sleeves around the waist is a little bit of an uncomfortable fold and jab of the sensors and servos packed through the flight suit-- and she won't want to explain that one to Anaheim. Instead, she has on her mechanic's coveralls tied off in the same way, t-shirt bearing the Morgenroete logo.
"M-Miss Roux, I... I know I can't cook but something doesn't smell right from the kitchen..."
Finding Jiron in the middle of a crowded Mess Hall is, fortunately, an easy thing to do.
Just look for him in the proximity of the hamburger vending machine.
"You."
Bright Noa points directly at Jiron, eyes narrowed.
"Broccoli."
"Eat."
"/Now/."
Roux gives Camille a withering look but is too busy straightening up to the incoming captain. She salutes (the spoon is still in that hand) briskly, then turns off the stove, picking up the pot and pouring it into a colander to release more of that terrible vegetative scent. She glances at Rachel again, though with somewhat more pity.
"I know," she says, "usually they can't handle vegetables that well out here." The broccoli gets shaken and then carried over in the colander, still steaming, and set down with an emphatic 'thunk' right in front of Jiron. Broccoli juice lands on his gun, ruining its spirit.
At least the Star Hawk isn't _that_ damaged, so Staren won't be spending forever repairing it... as it is, he walks by eating a vending machine cheeseburger, stopping when someone yells captain on the deck and looking over... He salutes with his free hand after seeing Camille do it, and then watches Bright...
Order Jiron to eat broccoli? What?
"Punishment detail? What're you gettin' punished for?" But, when he is roundly rebuffed, Judau just snorts and stares very indignantly at the ceiling as he takes a seat at one of the tables with a mumble of,
"... gonna take some /anyway/..."
He apparently cannot discern the horrible scent coming from the kitchen.
Settling in, Judau scans the room; he squints a little at Jiron, someone he has never seen before but looks sort of like he has a melon for a head, which amuses Judau long enough to offer a friendly grin before moving on. Camille -- Judau just snorts, again.
"... Thanks, by the way," he manages to mutter, but not much more than that before--
"R-Rach! Hey, are you gettin' some of Roux's cooking too?? I--"
And then everyone stands at attention. Judau just stares, dumbfounded, as Rachel springs to her feet in a stiff salute with such speed that it takes him a few seconds to comprehend the action. He looks around him, at everyone else at attention.
"What the hell? Why d'you all look like you're starin' at the super devil--"
And then he looks to the side to get an EYEFULL OF LIVID BRIGHT
"oh"
Pause.
"Uh. H-ha ha! Hey, Bright! I didn't mean nothin' about that super devil thing!"
Second pause.
"... You mad?"
Jiron retracts back to his seat like he was a humanoid spring, wobbling for a second before sitting bolt-upright. He recoils from the terrible healthy smell, staring at the abyss of space greenery with obvious dread. He very slowly and very carefully reaches forward... and moves his gun so he can finish cleaning it up without getting it further juicy.
It probably /smells funny/ now.
Roux gets an uncomprehending look, one perhaps mixed with betrayal and sorrow. Or maybe preemptive indigestion. He turns his eyes back to Bright and wilts almost immediately, staring at his outstretched finger. Thats looking awfully serious.
Jiron looks down. The uncivilized young man reaches for the broccoli, forsaking utensils probably because he doesn't know they exist. His hand nears a stalk--
The broccoli steams with menace, lightly dusted with Zyklon B crystals (lemon pepper).
Normally Jiron being forced to ingest broccoli would be a wonderful opportunity for Camille to give the room the slip and go off to do whatever it is he..er..does, but several things keep him, not the least of which Judau's faint, barely registered praise. "Any time." He mutters back, absentmindedly scratching his nose and looking to the side, pointedly away from Roux's evil eye.
At least one other is that Rachel is here, and he wants to talk with her.
"Hey." The Newtype will offer a quiet greeting, sitting down at the same table the cyber come genuine newtype has taken with another bite of his burger to relax the tension. "You did good out there, against that...er machine." Camille didn't want to there - he got more than a passing good look at that thing. He watches Jiron out of the corner of his eye, keeping wary lest he have to duck any kind projectile, vomit or otherwise.
"In."
"Your."
"Mouth."
Bright Noa scowls at Jiron, arms folded over his chest. You could just about see the steam billow out of his ears.
"Chew it and swallow it. You're going to eat -all- of it, Jiron. And then I'm going to figure out how the hell I can have -you- and -Judau- in the -same- battlegroup without the two of you feeding off each other."
"Roux," Bright jabs in the air at her. "You're going to make sure he eats every bite of broccoli and if he doesn't, you can shoot him."
He's joking, right?
"And you!"
Bright Noa turns on Judau, trying to grab him by the lapels of his sweet space-jacket. "HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO FIND YOUR SISTER WHEN YOU'RE ALWAYS RECKLESSLY DOING SOMETHING STUPID AND PUTTING YOUR LIFE IN DANGER AND THEN PUTTING THE LIVES OF EVERYONE ELSE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU IN DANGER FOR HAVING TO WATCH YOUR BACK!?"
He might even start shaking Judau hard as he articulates his frustration, too.
Staren sort of stares. It's like watching a train wreck but he can't pull his eyes away... He's also genuinely curious if Bright can actually 'reform' those two...
Roux points out the obvious to her. That clarifies one thing for the white-haired girl.
Camille sits down at the same table, and Rachel-- still doesn't seem to be all that at ease. Of course, it doesn't enter her mind for a moment that Bright Noa would go ahead and do something as awful and abusive as grab one of her friends by the collar and shake him around like a rag doll. After all, Bright Noa is above things like manhandling kids! That's why he's Bright Noa.
"Oh, I-- T-Thank you," she says after a moment, looking down. "I've seen a machine just like it before, but the frame was just a little different," she says, tilting her head just a little bit.
Oh wait. Bright Noa is shaking Judau like a rag doll. "C-Captain Bright," she starts, though her voice is perhaps a little soft against the anger, rage, and testosterone in the room, "Sir, you--"
"We're cool then, right? Right??" Judau asks of Bright as he turns his horrible wrath upon Jiron. No response. Judau shuts his eyes and nods to himself.
"We cool--"
Which is about when Judau is gripped and yanked up. "WH-WHOA, WHAT THE HELL?!"
Wide, green eyes turn on Bright. When he finally registers it is Bright who is grabbing him, those green eyes narrow with an indignant flare of rebellious rage.
"What the hell's your problem?!" he snaps, trying to grab Bright's arms to-- "S-s-stop sh-shakin' me, dammit! An' stop yellin' at me too, you old geezer! I didn't do anything wrong! Someone needed help an' I tried to help 'em, what the hell would you know about that?! You're not even tryin' to help my sister! How the hell am I supposed to save her when you're just sittin' around yellin' at people an' not doin' anything to help?! You're just a-- a--"
Leina taught him a word for this that he should use to get his point across--
"--a cardassian!"
... Judau's brows furrow.
"--I mean a curmudgeon!"
Maybe that was it.
Staren _coughs_ and some chewed food drops onto the floor when Judau calls Bright a _geezer_.
Roux's eyes widen at the news that she can shoot Jiron. Her eyes slide towards the reptile-eater.
She looks at the broccoli.
Back to him.
She nods, slightly.
Then she gapes as Judau calls out Bright Noa. Part of her feels like she should pray for the intercession of all the space-saints for his soul, but why? They'll be seeing him soon enough.
"Don't worry about that." Camille insists, "Captain Bright is speaking to Judau in his language." And then Judau starts struggling back a hurling terrible age-based epithets, "..Or not." Bite, chew, "You may want to look away for the next couple of seconds."
He supresses blanche when Staren spits horrible chewed food on the floor, simultaneously wishing Jiron would finish his broccoli and Judau would get strangled or something so everyone could leave and he could enjoy this small, private, no doubt very meaningful moment with everyone's favorite emotionally vulnerable pilot.
Camille Bidan is not a monster, he is just a teenager. Who had a close brush with death, yes.
"I've never seen a type like that before, myself." Thought gears grind slowly, "Interesting that the DC would have something so similar to a Federation design, though..."
Usually Jiron is the primary source of rage in a room, but he has some serious competition going on here. It might get... crazier than usual if this continues.
Jiron stares at Bright Noa in growing horror. He stiffens in his seat and slowly, slowly meets Roux's gaze. The small nod is all the cue he needs; he plunges his hand into his belt belt pouch, pulling out--A GRENADE no, no wait thats a different episode and this is more like... a fork, metal, apparently from the Tuatha de Danaan. He clutches it like a talisman against evil, and spears a piece of broccoli with it with a wet noise.
Jiron Amos raises the green thing and stares at it like it was a challenger to his throne of manliness or something. He brings it closer, lifting it up, opening his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut even as the horrible stench fills his nostrils. Jiron puts it between his teeth and grimaces when the juices fall onto his tongue... and he /slams/ his mouth shit down on it as fast as he can.
- chomp*
Jiron chews rapidly, forces himself to swallow, and doesn't die immediately, though he appears to be tearing up. He goes for another piece--and stops to stare at Bright and Judau, because shit is kind of getting real. The fork's tines, incidentally, are now half the length they were a moment ago.
A Cardassian!
"...?"
Bright Noa stares back at Judau, confused.
I mean a curmudgeon!
"!!!!"
Bright's eyes turn from narrowed and furious to enraged and wide. "A curmudgeon!?" he recites the word with such incredulous-sounding verve. "Why you indignant, selfish jerk!"
To those watching, that's when they'll notice Bright suddenly doesn't have Judau in a two-fisted grip any longer. His right hand is already moving, like some kind of flesh-toned and grey-sleeved adder, swinging open-handed for Judau's face.
"We're not all here for your pleasure, Judau! In case it wasn't obvious to you, this is a war! And you can't just treat it as your personal playpen for whatever stupid-ass whim you have that day! Everyone's lives are on the line! Including everyone here! I have a duty to everyone on this ship that I will do everything I can to ensure they make it out of this mess in one piece so they can go back to the lives they were denied by all this!"
"And that includes you and your sister, you stubborn brat!"
Bright lets go of Judau, "I've been working hard at trying to find out where Neo Zeon is keeping your sister. We can't just waltz up to Axis and demand they turn her over, they'd blast us -- and /you/ and /everyone that cares about you/ into atoms!"
Staren winces at the slap. He is one of the few to have never recieved the Bright Slap himself, possibly because he learned the lesson of not putting his allies in danger just from being talked to.
Now he's _intensely curious_ to see if Judau will listen to reason. Reason is good.
He makes a mental note to possibly bring Judau alone if he ever makes that Mobile Doll army and starts kicking down DC installations.
Even as Camille speaks to her, the eyes of Cagalli's sister are glued on Judau and Bright. She's good at a great many things, and multi-tasking is one of those things. She opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates for a moment-- then answers the Zeta Gundam's pilot. "Unless one of them stole it from the other..." she says, briefly pausing. "Or it's like the nuclear-capable Gundam that Zeon stole."
And then, the motherfucking thunder.
She's been at the wrong end of a Bright Slap before, but the circumstances were vaguely different. He was lecturing her about a lack of information-- and she could feel the sting long after he left the Captain's ready room.
Rachel stands up at that moment, her hands balling up into fists. How powerful of a Newtype Rachel Miu Athha is has come into question a few times-- but what cannot be denied is the total lack of fine control that she has, resulting in her emotions rampaging freely, openly, broadcasting like a satellite tower.
Roux doesn't notice this, though when Jiron brings out his totem fork she does not seem to complain. Her arms fold over her blue shooting-star motif pullover, even as she glances at Camille for no clear reason. Possibly, on some level, she can sense that he wants them all to GTFO so he can bend Rachel over a table and dock his core fighter.
Then she actually winces slightly at the force of that slap. This is a lot of why she's brown nosed so much: she doesn't want to be on the sharp end of that shit.
Judau opens his mouth to begin a retort--
But the resounding sound of a hand's open palm striking across said mouth drowns him out resolutely.
The young Newtype's head yanks to the side to allow him to stare, wide-eyed at the floor as his cheek rapidly reddens and swells; he tastes blood from where he bit the inside of that very cheek. He hears Bright but doesn't as the Argama's captain continues to berate him. His right hand curls into a fist.
"... Bright..." Judau mutters, perhaps on the dawn of some realization.
"... /you're/ the jerk, you jerk!"
It /is/ some kind of realization, at least.
A realization that Judau seems abruptly prepared to follow up with a swinging fist--
--and yet the second he is about to spring, something stops him. An abrupt sting at the back of his mind freezes his muscles like ice; he looks like a statue carved out mid-punch until he turns his head to look squarely at Rachel.
"R-Rach?" he asks, as if the question could have some sort of answer. "..."
Judau's fist lowers. "... Ghh." And though he still looks angry when he glares at Bright again, the twitch of his eyes, lips, even his fingers shows the restraint he is trying to maintain.
"Don't go punishin' other people for me bein' dumb," he finally breathes out. "It's my decision, got it?! So if you wanna punish someone, punish me!" And here Judau jabs a thumb helpfully at his chest.
"They've got nothin' to do with it, I was gonna do what I was gonna do no matter what happened!"
He very astutely manages to resist saying, 'and I'd do it again, too.'
Because he definitely would.
Camille himself was on the wrong (right?!) end of that stern, just hand not several days before! He doesn't envy Judau the position, wincing away at the lead-up and rebuke. "Oh man.." Partially covering his face with one hand for Judau's sake, the Newtype considered the dozens of places he'd suddenly rather be, "This just got really awkward.."
But there was that pin-prickle of dread he felt on the back of his neck, realizing Rachel was standing up with hands clenched and bleeding off such torrid feelings that that battle may as well have not ended. This could get ugly.
"Uh, Rach.." He whispers, tugging her on the sleeve, "You don't want to get into that, believe me. Or maybe I should say believe in Judau?" Yes, that sounds much better. Hopefully Jiro's battle against the broccoli is going better. The situation unfolds as it does and Camille stares on in mute shock, perhaps exchanging a quick look with Roux to confirm that yes, that relaly just happened.
He didn't know what shocked him more: that Judau had been about to throw a punch at Captain Bright, or that the Zeta pilot couldn't shake the feeling that he somehow would've.../won/. Did Rachel just save the Captain's ass?
[OOC] Rachel Miu Athha <-- [BOX] <-- =^'.'^= kittens [OOC] Rachel Miu Athha <-- [=^'.'^=] [OOC] Jiron Amos says, "c-catbox?" [OOC] Rachel Miu Athha is a box of kittens [OOC] Jiron Amos :o [OOC] Judau Ashta says, "da-da-dannnnnnnnnn"
Staren shakes his head, and goes back to eating. Well, at least Judau learned... _some_ form of responsibility, apparently.
Jiron is pretty sure that the ship itself is full of just as many crazy people as the Iron Gear. When they almost come to blows--plural, one did land--he doesn't look too surprised. A little, yeah; his eyes get a touch wider, but mostly because he has a nagging feeling that something is up with Captain Bright. Judau... well, maybe he should talk to him later.
Jiron eats a second piece of broccoli with his shortened fork. He chews it thoughtfully and notably less dramatically, though he keeps glancing at Roux to make sure she's not about to try to plug him. Eventually he stops, swallows, and looks back up at Bright and Judau, and then, sounding a little bewildered, asks the simplest question.
"Why not?"
What happens in the theatre of the mind is lost on Captain Bright. Though rumored to be a Newtype himself, it is all too obvious now that he is not. The interplay between the psychic-charged teens is lost upon him.
"I don't know what to do with you, Judau!" Bright admits, his cheeks slightly flush with frustration. "I'd throw you in the brig, but the others would just break you out! I'd ground you, but you'd sneak out to take the Double Zeta anyway! I'd take the Double Zeta away from you, but you'd just steal Camille's Zeta again! I'd just as soon throw you out of Katharon entirely, but god help us all, you're one of the best there is at what you do."
Bright Noa just shakes his head. It's a slow, head slightly tilted forward expression of sheer disappointment. In both Judau and himself. He is a father who doesn't know how to reach his son and is doing everything he can to try. Except everything Bright does, it just pushes Judau further and further away.
The Captain sighs. His eyes are on Judau, but his mind's eye is on Hathaway. About eight years old now, seperated by 54.6 million kilometers -- give or take.
Maybe he's nine, Bright wonders.
I'm losing track.
And I'm getting old.
"..I just don't know what to do with you, Judau." Bright admits again. He's no longer angry now, just maudlin. He reaches out to Judau again -- this time slowly, deliberately, to rest his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You have a lot of potential, Judau, and I don't want to see you ruin it by getting yourself killed. I care too much about you to let you do that to yourself."
"...and this was the only way to get Jiron to eat vegetables that weren't space-ketchup or Jupiter fries."
Roux feels silently exploited.
Staren sort of stares as he chews. Did Judau just break Bright? Oh man, that could end badly.
Camille is beginning to feel bad for Captain Bright.
Of course, unlike his very...complicated relationship with the Argama's /other/ Captain san mentor, the AEUG ace has always held tremendous respect and admiration for Bright Noa even before he first jumped into the Gundam Mk. II. Living alongside and serving under the man himself had, of course, done much to de-mytholegize him, which had both lessened and heightened that respect, in it's own way. Moments like the one before them now truly gave Camille a greater insight into Bright not as a Captain, not even a soldier, but just a man: A father who was millions upon millions of miles away from his real family, and trying to do what he could with the surrogate one fate had dealt him.
Dealt them all, really. Including Camille, whose own parents still drifted lifeless somewhere in the endless void of space.
He looked away for what seemed like the billionth time, and the half-eaten burger was squished under his unconsciously vice-like grip. He could hate Judau right now, if he didn't know the other pilot couldn't help but be so unnervingly /honest/ in everything he said and did.
"I really, really hate Mars." He muttered softly, if only to distract himself from the matter at hand.
It's harder to stay angry when the person Judau is angry at is himself fading from anger to exhasperation. Instead, Judau feels his indignation slowly dissipate into a confused and wary squint leveled at Bright. He's waiting for the next reprisal, the next slap, the next anything involving loud volume and possible violence.
It doesn't come.
Instead, Judau is left standing a little awkwardly, fidgeting as Bright expresses his concerns. All he can do is mutter a "Yeah... well..." in response as he feels his anger being rapidly bled out. He scuffs the ground a little with his foot and looks to the side.
Now /this/ he doesn't like at all.
It's only when that hand rests on his shoulder that he looks up, vaguely confused. 'Care too much about him'? Judau's brows furrow.
"... I'm not gonna do anything dumb that'll put other people in danger or somethin'," Judau finally manages, choosing his words very carefully because he definitely does not feel like lying, especially not right now. "An' I'm not gonna get myself killed. I promise. An' I always keep my promises!"
Something registers then, and Judau furrows his brows together in confusion.
"There are other vegetables besides space-ketchup an' Jupiter fries?!"
Jiron feels like he should perhaps not have followed the Judau School of Nutrition on this trip. He would not be eating pounds of broccoli, and this may or may not have happened.
"Uh, I'm glad you're all saying this sort of thing now," Jiron says slowly, holding up the fork-plus-broccoli, "but... why can't we just attack this Axis thing? It can't be any harder than breaking into an Innocent Point, and we blew one of those up." Jiron chews thoughtfully for a second more. "If someone has family stuck somewhere, you gotta do what you gotta do to get them back. Family is too important to just... not break out of a giant fortress."
Jiron apparenty willingly eats more of the green stuff. Roux can at least take to heart that it isn't poisonous. He looks a little less animated, though, and it isn't because of budget cuts.
"I think the problem is that Zeon has hundreds of mobile suits and overlapping defense grids," Roux says, a little awkwardly. "I mean on Axis. Like... if we had the entire Federal army we could probably do it? But even if we had a super-class hidden weapon, Zeon's allies have a bunch of stuff too. And if they realized we were after..."
She then looks at Judau. "Uh /yes/, there are dozens and they're both delicious and good for you, Judau."
"Me, too."
Camille's soft mutter must have been in earshot of Captain Bright.
Or maybe he really is perceptive.
Mars. Fourth planet from the Sun. Named after the Roman god of war, who in turn was adapted from the Greek god of war. This is the second time Bright has taken his intrepid crew to this lawless planet in order to rescue the people who dwell upon it. People who might otherwise not care or appreciate intervention from those in the Earth Sphere, a group of people that, who on the whole, are getting far too big in their britches.
No wonder the Inner Sphere isn't too hip to them, either.
I just want to go home, Bright thinks to himself.
"Good," Bright nods slightly at Judau's affirmation. It might be the best Judau can do and in turn, it might be the best Bright ever gets. His hands slip off Judau's shoulder as he begins to realize just how awkward this had become. "We need to know just where in Axis Leina is before we go barging in to get her. Assuming she's even in Axis to begin with and not hidden somewhere else. Glemy Toto might be the only person who knows... but he's escaped with the rest of the Crusaders. We'll have to figure out another way to find out.." Bright explains to Jiron. He suppresses to mention the immediate thought of, 'or we could just sneak in and find out the old fashioned way.'
Then again, there might be something to slapping her picture on space-cartons of milk.
"Jiron, once you're done eating your broccoli, I want you to take a very thorough bath and put on a change of clothes," Bright exhaustedly mentions. "Mars isn't completely terraformed and you run the risk of being exposed to a space-disease while we're out here."
The Captain's eyes slide to Roux, "..You don't have to stick with him through that. Just make sure he eats his broccoli."
"Shame Akira's not here, he could read their minds on the battlefield..." Staren comments, as it's the first thing to pop into his head. How _is_ Akira doing, he wonders, he'll have to visit when he gets back to Earth. Staren suddenly feels glad he is not Bright. It's hard enough just _talking_ to people and trying to convince them, but actually being in charge and responsible for their well-being and having to convince people for their own good or watch your allies die... Staren is suddenly very glad he's not a ship captain.
Camille, too, would like to go home, wherever that was - somewhere in the vicnity of the Earth Sphere, far away from BAHRAM and Metatron and frightening women in Codarls. But the only thing that awaited them at the Earth Sphere were the Divine Crusa-no, if he was being honest, then he had to say Axis Zeon.
And he didn't want to hear about Axis Zeon right now, because that brought a whole host of other pressures he'd been trying to get his mind off of. "We'll find a way." He offers, thought not without any actual ideas, "They have no reason to do anything with her." But, he thinks, word is the lady in charge of Zeon wasn't all the right in the head these days. And that was where his discomfort comes in.
Camille rises from his table, tossing away the mutilated hamburger and washing his hands. "I'm going to get some rest before our next mission." He declares in general, and moves to leave.
He stops by Bright, not speaking for a long space, weighing whether or not it's better for him to add anything else to this sordid mix of politics, war and manifest destiny. If he heard him mutter about Mars, doing it now would be good enough.
"I think Captain Quattro wants me to kill Haman Karn." He wasn't looking anywhere but straight ahead, and even then, he wasn't exactly 'seeing' anything, "Because he can't or won't do it himself."
Rushed, but not hurried steps take Camille out the mess hall, eventually towards his bunk and the shallow refuge sleep offered from the reality of war.
Roux holsters her space-gun, nodding once to Bright.
Staren will gladly help kill Haman Karn. Crazy bitch wanted to dissect him. You don't forget that.
Jiron can't go home. His home was destroyed by a man in black who sows chaos wherever he goes. His life was changed that day, and the series of events that led him to where he is now were set into motion, one after another, moving ever forward like pieces a child's dominos set. He can't stop, no matter what, and while he moves, he will make sure other people do too.
Maybe he'll find a home. The Iron Gear is close, but the people there are too caught up in the Innocent's stupid laws. The Argama seems to be one for quite a few misfits, but it doesn't seem right.
But he can't rest while /he/ is out there. While /he/ still breathes.
"I'll think of something," he mutters. "Family's important. I'll help get her out, even if I have to take on all of Zeon by myself." Jiron nods to himself and at Bright, and lapses into silence after that.
Silence and broccoli.