Under the towering bipedal military machine, Lawrence dozed off without regard. The black beret he wore shielded his face from the blistering raw air. His feet were propped up by stacked crates, his hands snugly beneath his pits.

Personnel went about their duties: none dared disturb the young Commodore. Yet the business kept him from slipping into total slumber, and the air, oh, the humidity, was furious as a gaping furnace operating at maximum. The exhaust from rumbling utility hover carts bothered Lawrence to no end. It all bothered Lawrence to no end.

There was a volcanic gust of wind, harsher than usual. Lawrence's only curtain of solace was swept away from him. "Oh, give me a break," he said. Fasnakyle’s sun blinded him briefly, he rubbed his eyes.

He grunted as he got to his feet. His vision was still blurry, doubles everywhere he looked. Someone had picked up his beret, and he only grumbled as he reached for it. "Thanks," he said. Lawrence squinted, since the person was against the sun, it was hard for his vision to readjust and see who it was. Not that it particularly mattered.

But Lawrence froze. The hand of God seized this pivotal moment to squeeze him, paralyze him. He knew this officer; he knew this woman. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He must still be dreaming. He was too awestruck to say anything; that lousy God had his tongue. And this angel, God rays illuminated her. Lawrence was hoodwinked.

I must still be dreaming, Lawrence said inwardly. And then he felt it. The slight pricking of his mind, a prodding of his brain by an invisible force. The discomfort it brought was subtle—such so Lawrence didn't want to believe it at first. It brought back memories of antics with a woman he hoped to bury. And from this particular thought, it all came back to him, all at once, like an old dam finally giving out against a restless torrent.

"Long time no see, darling," she said. The woman offered a meek smile.

Finally, Lawrence was released from the vex. "It couldn't be," Lawrence said. It was spoken so low, so drowned out, Lawrence wasn't sure the woman even heard it. He cleared his throat, dry as it was—and reached out. “Victoria?” Lawrence said. He couldn’t refrain from choking up just uttering her name.

Victoria nodded; she presented his beret to him again. He reached out for it, but stepped closer, drawn to her like a magnet—he brushed aside the beret and held her in a boorish embrace. His arms found warmth—no longer did he care about the dreadful heat plaguing him. For him, feeling her heartbeat in rhythm with his, feeling her alive made him believe these last four years were just one long, terrible nightmare. The prince woke up from his slumber to be with his princess once more. Lawrence stroked her now-long, golden locks of hair.

“What’s gotten into you? You act like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Victoria said. He had no idea how to respond to such a lousy jab at their reunion. Lawrence buried his face into her hair, smelling her rosy scent. Tears, manly tears, streamed from his eyes. Victoria breathed in heavily, cutting loose a long sigh. She was trembling, too. He felt droplets on his neck. Neither relaxed their hold. For at least this moment, the two were both in their own little world. Uncaring of outside their bubble; no less the war to soon consume them both. If there was ever a time Lawrence wished he could simply freeze time forever, it would be here, right now. With Victoria by his side.

“It’s really you,” Lawrence said. Slowly, though he didn’t want to, he pulled away, and Victoria did likewise. “Vick, I can’t.... I can’t believe it.” He wiped the edges of her wet eyes.

The reality of the situation came crashing down on Lawrence. He didn’t pay any attention to her outfit, and once the realization she was wearing a Mobile Trooper jumpsuit sank in, Lawrence arched his brows. He was still holding hands with Victoria, but quickly relaxed his grip once it occurred to him he was hurting her.

“These sick sonsuvbitches brought you back for this?” Lawrence said. He did what he could to simmer his boiling anger. His gaze shifted to the titan bipedal machine above them. It was the Mobile Gear Zugzwang, one of them anyway: Others were in tow, ready to be stuffed into a cargo shuttle headed for space. They tower like mystical giants, even more so than the usual Shrina model Mobile Troopers the Confederacy fields. Whereas a Shinra was at least 17 meters tall, the Zugzwang was at least 30. The Confederacy had reverse-engineered it from an Imperium design called the Walpurgis both he and Victoria took down, twice, five years ago during the Farragaig War.

Even looking back on it now, it’s a miracle they managed to accomplish it. Not just the process of salvaging the one destroyed in Zeta and the one they downed over Ben Nevis, but also have the resources needed to make such an over-engineered extravaganza. It must’ve been the Imperium’s only models because he never again saw them after Zeta.

The fleeting memory of Jonathon von Churchill made Lawrence utterly seethe. He looked back at Victoria, whose gaze locked eyes with his. It’s because of her final mortal combat with Churchill she was rendered a vegetable for so long. It was why she disappeared, barring him from ever seeing her again.

It was because Lawrence failed to finish off Churchill in Zeta at such a crucial moment, Victoria ultimately suffered for his cowardly error.

“But that’s all in the past now,” Victoria said. Lawrence winced: She read his thoughts again. Victoria dropped her gaze and walked to the railing where the Zugzwang was.

Victoria is Neo sapiens—she’s capable of telepathy, and to Lawrence’s chagrin, it was always something he hated. The two of them were always at odds over it for years, even before Zeta. He strongly disliked it when she crept into his privacy, and he was never afraid to voice his complaint when he caught her doing it.

“I’m sorry, Lawrence,” Victoria said. She struggled to clear her throat. The guilt tugged at Lawrence’s heart.

“In a way, it is nostalgic,” Lawrence said, “just like old times.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Victoria said. She was wiping her eyes, but she didn’t look back at Lawrence. “I chose to come back.”

“Why?!” Lawrence said, “Why the hell would you ever drag yourself back into this lousy, godforsaken war?”

Victoria heaved a sigh. She turned to face him, her eyes reddish from tears. Lawrence briskly went to her side. He cupped his hands over hers. “They need me, Lawrence. It’s my duty,” she said.

“Duty? What good is duty when it leaves you half dead?” Lawrence said, teeth clenched.

Victoria dropped her gaze and said softly: “You’re hurting me.”

Lawrence released his grip. He was still trying to calm his breathing, but in this scorching weather it was hard to think straight. And on top of that, the very object of his affection appeared in his world—but not in the way he wanted. Not like this. He didn’t want a reunion this way here before war. It wasn’t right.

“Run away with me,” Lawrence said, “we don’t... we can escape this war together. Just the two of us. Friederika... Frank... they would’ve wanted us to.” There was a long lull in silence between the two of them. But even so, the shuttle preparations continued. No one paid attention to the two trapped in a bubble over a past that no longer is and a future that will never come to be.

Victoria only shook her head. Lawrence knew it was hopeless. Even if he didn’t say it upfront, she’d have known either way.

“When I learned you were in this operation... I... was happy, you were alive,” Victoria said. She twirled her long, flowing hair. “It was my chance to be with you, even if it is like this.”

“I wanted to visit you, Vic,” Lawrence said, interjecting. He shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me, I was so angry I didn’t know what to do—I couldn’t track you down...”

“That whole year you visited me, I remember it all,” Victoria said, “I cherished every moment you were keeping me company, it kept me going because it gave me hope we could see each other again.” Her lips trembled. The revelation shook Lawrence to his core, left him stunned for words. She forced a smile, wiping away a tear as she continued: “They tell me the only reason I was still alive was because of you; you practically kept me tethered.” Victoria took a deep breath, and Lawrence instinctively reached to curl her into his embrace. His chest was splashed with her tears. “And when they... tore you away from me, they feared it would interfere with recovery.”

“They experimented on you?” Lawrence asked, but he already knew the answer. “If I ever meet any of these monsters, I swear to God, I’ll... I’ll...” He couldn’t find the words, his fury blocking all rationality.

“But even so, I’m here now because of them,” Victoria said.

“This time, I’ll be the one to protect you,” Lawrence said.

“Oh darling, you know that’s my line,” Victoria said. She smiled, and it was enough to calm him. All he ever wanted was to see that angelic face again. It melted away all his worries. His vision blurred with a fresh assault of tears he didn’t bother holding the tide against.

“Whatever it takes, no matter what, I’ll come for you,” Lawrence said, “I always keep my word, don’t I?”

“They’ll even let Commodores fly in a Hoshiga now? My, maybe the Starfleet really is in a heap of trouble,” Victoria said, trying not to choke on words.

“If it comes down to it, I will,” Lawrence said, his heart lay heavy. “They couldn’t hold me back even if they tried.”

“Captain Schwarzenberger? Sorry to interrupt, but your shuttle is ready for launch.”

Lawrence didn’t notice an officer—a woman, ground crew by the looks of it—had approached the two and saluted them. Victoria wiped away what tears she had and pulled herself away from Lawrence. She returned the salute, telling her: “Very well, I’ll be there in five.” After seeing the officer off, Victoria turned to Lawrence, who was bitter about the sudden intrusion into their reunion. Reality came knocking, and he wasn’t pleased. “Well, Lawrence...”

“This isn’t a goodbye,” Lawrence said, “I won’t let it be one.”

Victoria smiled. “You’re right about that, love,” she said. Victoria reached inside her flight suit and pulled out a necklace—it had a small golden ring on it. Lawrence was captivated by its etched beauty, but was at a loss for words about what she was doing. Victoria tore it off and presented it to him.

“It was a gift from my mum, I... um, wanted to give you it on the Yilan back then, but I never had the chance to.”

She must’ve meant when she escaped after her recovery in the medical, Lawrence thought.

For a moment, Lawrence didn’t want to take it. His stomach tied in a knot. There was the all too familiar pronounced kneading of his mind, and he shook his head. Even after all this time, after so many years of not experiencing her mind clairvoyance, it was still wildly discomforting.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Victoria said.

Lawrence reluctantly reached out and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He tapped it out of habit. Then said: “I’m returning this to you once this is over—once we seize Ishtar Fortress.”

“Is that a marriage proposal?” Victoria said. The two of them blushed; Lawrence nervously rubbed his head.

“You set me up for this,” Lawrence said, “maybe over a bottle of Imperium rum, once we seize Ishtar... then maybe this war will end.”

“A lot of maybes, love?”

“I fight this war hoping any day I can wake up and be told it’s finally, truly, fundamentally over, so until then, I do what I can to bring it closer to reality,” Lawrence said. He looked back at the last of the Zugzwangs being loaded into cargo ships and continued: “With these, we may have a fighting chance, and with the Imperium distracted by the Golden Sash rebellion... we may truly have a chance this time,” Lawrence said. Inwardly, he added: After one hundred and fifty years and 6 previous attempts... there truly is a possibility we can end the war, here and now!

It didn’t matter if Victoria read his thoughts, because it was an optimism he hoped she would share.

Victoria merely smiled. She said: “It’s a done deal, darling, the next time we meet, it’ll be in Ishtar fortress over dinner.”

Lawrence held her and reached in for a kiss. She offered no resistance as their tongues intertwined; she hugged him tightly, and he likewise. They remained this way for what seemed like an eternity, then Lawrence pulled himself away—the spit drew a line between them before gravity pulled it down.

“I lost myself in the heat of the moment,” Lawrence said. Victoria couldn’t help but laugh at the lousiness of the delivery, but for him, it didn’t matter one bit. Hearing her cheerful, snorting laugh was enough to revitalize his soul. He had a reason to live again. He had a reason to fight this war with ultimate resolve.

“Second time’s the charm, love,” Victoria said. She gave a stern salute, which Lawrence returned.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Vick,” Lawrence said. And with that, Victoria executed a perfect about-face and left for her shuttle.

Lawrence turned to lean on the railing. He glanced at the skies above, at the spectacle of ships far above in Fasnakyle’s orbit—the twenty-five thousand ships anchored in orbit. Twenty million souls will take part in this Seventh Coalition to take a fortress that has cost twice as many lives over the last century. Lawrence’s mind drifted carelessly. He began to wonder thoroughly. The problem with leadership is inevitably: Who will play God?

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Pub: 27 Jul 2025 06:46 UTC

Edit: 27 Jul 2025 06:53 UTC

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