ANATEXIS

PART 2 - Emergence

They called the prison colony PK-23 'Purgatory' and rightly so. It was more than the drudgery the prisoners performed, or the foul living conditions they endured. Many of the prisoners were those who had rebelled against the World Nation's stifling rule, and a fair number had been pilots. Though hundreds of them had been sent here after the war, their numbers were growing every day in proportion to the localised revolts that were occurring on Earth and the colonies.

The colony was loosely tied in orbit with Mars, and as there were no climate or insolation regulators it was dark all year round. The constant heat from the purification furnaces also served to keep the colony in an uncomfortable temperature zone. They ventured day in and day out into the asteroid field to mine for rare elements, and the routine never changed. Weekly the shuttles from Earth brought meagre supplies and left with priceless resources.

In spite of this, one person on the colony had come close to finding peace of mind. The sentence for being on the wrong side in the war was five years, but the last two years had been spent in service as a much-respected prison officer, mediating between the prisoners and their masters, the only person both sides trusted. Uncomplaining, efficient, and much admired.

"Sweetness so, sweetness so

You have ensnared my heart, dear

And your face, I behold

Seeing a work of art, dear

So far away and I yearn for your charms

I wait for you, darling, with open arms

So far away in slumber

Sweetness so, sweetness so

Don't ever go - "

The song ended, and the singer bowed his head, tears streaming into his thick wiry beard.

"You know, Jorn," whispered the pale figure on the mattress, "I always said you had a beautiful voice... Even if you do speak like a bear."

The Danish man choked out a laugh. "So says the officer-in-charge. It is just as well. I do not sing for anyone else on this PK-23." He paused. "But a beautiful woman deserves a song more beautiful than I am singing."

"Ah," came the whispered reply. "I wonder who this lucky woman is."

Her name was Lucrezia Noin, and she was near death.

In the very beginning, there had been bitterness. Quiet dignity ended and a futile rage struggled within her. She hated Mariemaia; she hated Dekim Barton, even after personally witnessing an enemy soldier put a bullet through his brain in the last moments of the battle. But most of all, she hated Chang Wufei. The self-absorbed, self-righteous obsessive who had stolen her preciously nurtured cadets at Victoria, and then had stolen her entire existence by throwing his lot in with a maniacal doll of a girl.

She remembered how she had been handcuffed to a rail while Zechs was being extricated from the ruins of the mobile suit with the help of a gundanium-diamond-toothed saw. She remembered pulling at the rail, unable to follow Zechs as he was taken to intensive care in the military van, hoping beyond hope that she would see him again. But a month later, at the mass trial, Zechs made no appearance, and Noin knew that he was gone.

Une had been there, seated next to her, and though Noin had never been entirely comfortable with the woman she had almost been glad for her presence through the nightmarish ordeal. She had let the listing of their crimes drone around her while she searched out familiar faces. No sign of the four Gundam pilots, and under her stoic exterior she grieved for them. They had fought so desperately...

After days of filing in and out of the courtroom, the sentencing was finally over, and they were being taken away individually. Une had been given a heavy sentence of ten years in a prison on Earth. Surely, if that child Mariemaia had had a sliver of the respect she claimed to have for her father, she would have dealt more leniently with Une. But no. Sitting behind tinted glass at the top of the courthouse she looked down impassively, the traitorous pilot beside her.

The guards were clamping their hands on Une's shoulders. In a different world Une would have drawn a gun, her glasses glinting, and finished them ruthlessly. But in this world she bit her lip and turned urgently to Noin at the last second, saying almost desperately, "Sally. Sally may have - "

The rumble of disapproval in the courtroom drowned out the words. Une disappeared behind a steel door, and the guards returned. It was only then that Noin registered where she was actually going. To a remote Mars orbital colony she had once heard the warders mention as they chatted outside her cell. This thought - of what awaited her - made her reflexively jerk off the guards' hands in panic, and earned her rougher handling than she would have received. She was carried out the courtroom with leather straps passed round her body.

A shockingly thin boy came into the room and joined Jorn by the bedside. The Dane put a finger to his lips. "She is asleep."

"It's all... my fault." The boy sniffed, his lip trembling, eyes huge in his bony face.

"Not now, lad. You have the painkillers?"

"Yes, Jorn." He produced them from his pocket.

"Good lad." Jorn briefly tousled his head, then dissolved the tablets in water.

By now the boy was unable to control himself, and began to weep. "S'all... all my fa-u-u-ult..."

"Quiet, quiet, boy, how would you know this was to happen?"

"My stupid idea.... Thought I could be like my father... a mobile suit pilot." He suddenly slapped himself with crazed ferocity. "Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid!"

The Dane grabbed his arm. On the bed, Noin stirred, her eyelids sliding open tiredly. "You see? Now you have woken her!"

"Alex? Mueller? Have they gone to - " Noin's eyes darted around the room, and settled on an empty corner. "No. Don't do it, Zechs. I won't let you." Then her eyes closed again.

There were few women on PK-23, and Noin had at first been apprehensive, fearing that the men would see her as a natural target to express their anger. Yet within a few weeks she was almost charmed by their respect of her, and the few brutes who thought to humiliate her quickly found out she was respected for a reason.

Sometimes she felt like a Southern belle with numerous admirers playing court to her, and was hard-pressed not to shout out - irritably seasoned with expletives - that she was not some alabaster figure of womanhood. She then graduated to spunky mascot, whom the prisoners referred to in good humour when work was at its hardest. But in the end, with the passing of time, she regained that old feel of being an instructor at the Academy. Not just an attractive young woman, she was strong. She acted as a brace to many of the prisoners going through emotional hardship. In quieting others' despair she could let her own bitterness slip away. Even though, more than ever, she wanted to find some way to correct the terrible ills of the new regime.

Five years passed. A few veterans of the war she had known personally had already been released, a few were approaching the end of their term. Her own sentence was over, and she made her decision.

The chief warder signed the yellow form and carefully stuck on the digitised sticker which bore Lucrezia Noin's particulars. He slid it across the table, and she added her signature.

"About what we discussed... About working here, as an officer of care. Have you thought about it?" The chief warder pulled out a blue form from the drawer and laid it on the table.

"Yes, I have. I would like to accept the offer."

In the first months of Noin's time as a prison officer a shuttle arrived bearing unusual cargo. It was a thirteen-year-old boy, a painfully thin thing with huge eyes, and his name was Kev. His guardian had recently died, and rather than live in an orphanage he had asked to be sent to PK-23, where his father was a war pilot serving out his sentence.

"His father is Mark Raleigh?" exclaimed Noin, shocked. "He - he was the operator we lost two weeks ago - he was trapped in the borehole..." As a former mobile suit pilot he had been retrained to operate the heavy machinery used for scouting shafts on asteroids. On that occasion the borehole had proven unstable and claimed his life.

The other officer pushed the file dismissively to one side. "He'll have to take the next shuttle back, then."

The boy was huddled against the window, his small bag of belongings at his feet. The barren red surface of Mars was just visible below.

"Hey," said Noin, gently, kneeling so that they were on eye-level. "Are you ready to go?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably and nodded his head. Being thirteen, he had not yet reached the disagreeable talkback age yet, Noin privately observed.

"I suppose Earth would be a better place to grow up, anyway," Noin said, half to herself. "Rather than this penal colony looking down on Mars. They tried to terraform it once, but they failed, you know."

"I don't know. They're not sending me to Earth. I'm going to another Mars orbital."

Noin frowned. Besides PK-23, there were only tiny mining stations. Did they mean for him to start working at the mines at such a tender age? And did he care so little for himself that he would go without protest?

Noin gazed at him. He was not a beautiful child by any means. And he seemed completely helpless, a far cry from the fiercely independent Gundam pilots she had known. But even those children - for they had been children in those days - had succumbed to moments of weakness. Looking at Kev Raleigh invoked old memories.

Just then the familiar heavy tread on the flimsy aluminium floor tiles was heard, and Jorn appeared, his Viking beard bristling with energy. He raised his wrists so that Noin could remove the locks.

"Miss Lucrezia," he boomed, "surely you are not forgetting it is your turn to shuttle us to the a-field today?"

"I haven't forgotten. And please could you call me 'Noin'? I feel as if you're going to say, 'Mighty fine day for asteroids, Miss Scarlett' any moment now!"

"Huh?" The Dane was confused, and scratched his beard. Then he looked down at Kev. "Lad! Why don't you take a ride into the asteroid field with us? Maybe Miss Noin will show you around while we are working?" He thought a moment, trying to summon the descriptive words in a language that was not his mother tongue. "Big asteroids, little asteroids, asteroids that look like cheeses...."

Kev grinned at the Dane's good cheer, looking much more spirited now, and Noin rolled her eyes. Trust the kid to identify with another big kid.

So Kev became an adoptive member of PK-23. With permission from the chief warder Noin was allowed to clear out a store closet an convert it to a room for the boy. It was terribly cramped, but Kev was thrilled to have his own little territory. Out of his battered bag appeared his treasures - two precious Jane's Yearbooks, and a sheaf of grayscale printouts.

"Jane's Yearbook 194?" Noin's eyes goggled. The boy was a military machines enthusiast? She hadn't seen one of these in ages!

"Jane's has been around since before the colonies, in the old wars," said Kev, as if explaining to a child. "They publish magazines and yearbooks and stuff about weapons and mobile suits and cool things."

"But not Gundams," smiled Noin, as the boy began sticking up pictures printed out from news archives. "Since they were never official."

"Yeah, but Gundams kicked the biggest BUTT!"

Noin laughed, entirely amused - no, delighted by the boy's animated gestures. "OK. Which is your favourite suit?"

"Like, a Gundam?"

Noin nodded.

"Deathscythe Hell, of course!" Kev flapped his arms to simulate the decloaking, then made vwoom vwoom noises with an imaginary scythe.

"What IS this fascination with DH?" Noin smacked her forehead in mock despair. "Right. How about the other suits?"

Kev pondered this a moment. "Uh, it's gotta be Tallgeese! Tallgeese is just so cool, like a Trojan warrior, right, and it's nearly a Gundam!"

Noin sighed. Too many things were associated with that machine. Then she allowed herself a small smile. "No-one ever says they like Taurus," she half-complained.

The last weeks had been intensely busy. Noin had managed to negotiate with the Chief Warder - a decent man compared to his predecessor - and give the prisoners half-days of work over Christmas. On Christmas Day itself, however, the workers had struck an amazing gundanium vein on one asteroid, and Noin had spent days drawing up new labour divisions. She had not seen Kev in days, except for brief hellos in corridors.

Jorn mentioned offhand that the boy had made friends with the inspecting officer from Earth, and that surprised Noin; Kev was so shy.

"The inspecting officer sent to check the gundanium ore?"

Jorn nodded.

"I guess the inspector must have informed HQ that the ore is very high quality," said Noin thoughtfully. "The military's sent in a contingent to guard the transport carrier on the way back. I saw them heading in this morning." She folded her arms. "Now where IS Kev? He's supposed to help me catalogue those tools...."

"And you are wondering why he is missing?" laughed Jorn. "I think he is in the port area with his officer friend."

"I'm going to get him." She started off in the direction of he port area. On her way, she bumped into Lieutenant Crecy.

"Hey, Noin, your little kid's damn popular with the khakis. Major Girot's turning him into a miniature soldier."

Noin frowned at this and hurried on, turning a corner and entering codes to unlock the doors to the port area.

A fluffy blonde with a milkmaid complexion and strangely coquettish horn-rimmed glasses entered the building in stiletto heels, gaining admiring glances from the male staff and unfriendly stares from the female receptionists. Purposefully sashaying over to a male staff member, she asked where the archives were.

"Why, they're on the fifth floor, miss," he replied. He smiled, flashing polished teeth. "Why don't I.... take you up there?"

"Oh," she said, putting a delicate hand to her throat. "I'd like that."

As they were ascending in the lift he asked, "Er... so which department are you with again?"

"I'm General Fiennes' secretary. He needs a list of all the captured rebels and their... you-know." She waggled her fingers, the manicured nails intensely distracting.

"Er, oh, I see." The lift stopped and they got out in front of giant metal doors with a matte finish. "Now, if you just scan in the ol' authorisation codes in here...."

"Authorisation codes," said the blonde slowly and evenly.

"Yes, of course," said the man. "Surely - " Doubt crept into his face.

"Silly me, they'd be on my little card..." The blonde looked at her watch. 9:48am. They should have frozen the security cams by now. I'll have to make my move. The classic knife palm slammed into the man's neck, and he fell to the carpet with a bemused croak. The woman then carefully extracted his authorisation card from his blazer pocket and ran it through the scanner.

With a pfffft of hydraulics, the doors swung open.

Ten minutes later, the receptionists had a chance to scowl at the fluffy blonde again as she left the building. A jeep rolled up, she hopped in, and they sped away, her hair blowing in the breeze.

"I hate to tell you this, but we couldn't actually get a lock on the signal, so the security cams were on - "

The blonde stared at the driver in disbelief.

"Wow, you look like a complete ditz with your eyes wide like that!"

"Be quiet. Thank heaven for careless security staff." She removed her glasses and began yanking a comb through the mousse-stiffened, wavy tresses.

"Aw, I liked it all fluffy."

"Don't be rude to a person who's just narrowly escaped death," came the rebuff as she deftly twisted her hair into two tails.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, Sally."

This was not the first time Sally Po had escaped capture. For years she had run from one colony to another, desperate to hang onto her freedom, even if it meant she had to be more cravenly cautious than she liked to be. She had gathered new contacts, consolidated her information base, while always on the lookout for former allies. But to her disappointment, she had not encountered any of them in seven years.

So against all caution, she had pulled off this audacious break-in. If there had been a way to hack into the closed government networks, she would have. But that possibility was nil, so she had intercepted communications between archive staff, crossed her fingers, and leapt in. Now she was trawling through the records, feeling more disheartened each minute. Une was locked in the bowels of Stonebridge, where it was said that even the cockroaches had evolved differently in such isolation. Zechs Merquise had died in hospital. Wing Zero had been salvaged from the ocean, the body of Heero Yuy still inside. Trowa Barton had been removed, showing no life signs, from the wreck of Heavyarms. Quatre Winner had slipped into a coma; a year later his sister Iria had signed the form allowing them to pull the plug on the life-support machine.

Sally Po's hands rested on the keyboard, her heart pounding. It was like reliving the ghastly war again. But wait, Lucrezia Noin had been sent to PK-23. And Duo Maxwell was still missing. Perhaps....?

Noin. You should be a free woman now. Looks like we'll be cooperating again.

Noin stared in horror at the men bustling around the port area. They were not dressed in the ordinary short-sleeved shirts and truncated trousers of the standing army, but had long sleeves, full-length dark greens, and had different designs on their armbands. Coupled with the additional silver tie pins and overwhelming arrogance emanating off them, it was not difficult to deduce that they were members of the elite 1st Mobile Suit Division.

The commanding officer stared down at her, his expression contemptuous. "You are Lieutenant Noin?"

"Yes. Sir." Her tone was civil, yet subtly challenging. The difference between her blue-grey prison officer's uniform and his khaki uniform were daunting enough, let alone the gap in their ranks, but she was not going to act submissive.

The major simply walked past her without further talk. Then there was a snap of his fingers. "Raleigh!"

Kev darted out from behind an oxygen cylinder like a little dog. "Yes, sir!" He saluted smartly.

"Kindly tell that woman that her salute is substandard. Even you do better."

Kev hesitated, bemused by this, and torn between his own pride and shame for Noin. The major noted his indecision.

"A man of the 1st Mobile Suit Division obeys his superiors at once."

Nervously, Kev trotted over to Noin. "Major Girot says that... that your salute is substandard, and that I do better, Lieutenant Noin!" There was a ripple of laughter from the men in the port, and Kev grinned unsurely at this.

Noin's expression was unreadable.

"I'm sorry, Noin," said Kev much later. Noin was in the midst of cataloguing the tools.

"Don't bother. Your superior officer must be obeyed 'at once'," she said, more cuttingly than she intended.

"But Major Girot says I'm a junior member of the MSD now... I'll get to pilot a real suit soon! Aren't you happy for me?"

Noin clicked her tongue in exasperation over the boy's naivety. "Major Girot is playing with you, Kev."

"But it's true. I'm getting into a suit on Monday. He said it in front of everybody. I asked and he said yes." Kev's tone was sulky.

God help me, he's become a teenager now. "Why do you believe him? He's lying to you, for heaven's sakes!"

"You're just jealous."

The clipboard fell from Noin's hands, and she lost all patience. "That man is from the 1st Mobile Suit Division! They were at the head of the army that brought about this regime, and put us all on PK-23! They're responsible for your father's death, don't you understand?"

Kev swung round, his eyes red and streaming. "D-d-dad died because he was on the wro-o-ong side! If he'd joined them, he wouldn't have been stuck here like you! He wouldn't have di-i-ied in some mine! You're just jealous and I HATE YOU!"

Appalled, Noin watched him dash away, then cursed under her breath. She would find Major Girot and confront him, whatever the outcome.

The contingent was still in the port area. The major was with them, supervising the movement of a huge container off the shuttle.

"Major Girot!" She stormed up, pushing past a few surprised khakis. "So the motto of the 1st MSD is 'Honour and Justice' is it? If you had a shred of the honour you pretend to have, you wouldn't lie to that boy!"

Girot now stepped up to Noin and looked down from his extra height of six inches. His expression was indescribably smug.

"Do you mean the mobile suit?" he drawled. "What should a woman care about that?"

Woman... Noin was back in the cockpit, hearing one Chang Wufei's insults, and the memory made her tremble with rage. "Oh, I know," she said in a low voice. "I know more than enough."

"Then know this. We are here not merely on the business of the gundanium, but also to conduct weaponry trials on Mars. On Monday we are testing a mobile suit. And Raleigh will come with us. He asked to." A pause. "He begged to."

"You'll let him pilot with no training? No experience?" Noin was ready to launch herself at the man's throat. "He'll crash as soon as he tries to do anything more complicated than walk in a straight line!"

"Oh no," said Girot, with a smile turgid with evil amusement. "I think he'll go down from the strain much sooner than that."

Noin looked behind him at the huge container. They had cut through the alloy casing and were unlocking the first joints. A battered red crest was visible on the head of the white mobile suit, and Noin nearly cried out in dismay. She felt as if she were falling from a great height... He would never survive that. Not when Zechs - far fitter and battle-hardened - had suffered in its cockpit.

"Yes," said Girot. "Prototype Tallgeese. There are a few interesting things we've missed in earlier tests. Particularly, its effect on human pilots. I wonder if its strengths weren't sacrificed for comfort in later modifications."

"NO! You'll murder the boy!"

"Remember, he begged me." Girot moved in close to Noin and repeated himself. "He begged."

The next second was a blur. The major fell back, clutching his jaw, and Noin was breathing hard, her knuckles stinging.

"You bi - "

Noin punched him again. The men were transfixed by the sight, knowing that they should move in to restrain her, and yet...

The major straightened, smoothed his hair back and attempted to recapture some dignity. "I... don't fight women."

Noin barked a short laugh at this. "Is that the drivel you've picked up off your commanding officer? I know your glorious Chang Wufei. I've dealt with that traitor." Her eyes focused once more on Tallgeese. "If you want to see blood, then don't prey on little boys. I'll take Kev's place. But I warn you: once I get into the cockpit, I won't stop fighting."

The surface of Mars was completely lifeless, and it mirrored Noin's state of mind at that moment. She did not regret her choice to take Kev's place. But she regretted that they had lost to Mariemaia's armies. The old bitterness began to return.

Where had they found this prototype? It was old, and had evidently seen action. Before putting on the helmet she had detected the bizarre mixed odour of alcohol and oil in the cockpit, and the controls felt mildly greasy even under her gloved hands. The angular seat she was strapped to was hard; there was no obvious protrusion on the left side but it dug into her hip, for some reason. In that cockpit one felt both enclosed and rejected; Tallgeese had no respect for the fragile human life inside it.

"Lieutenant Noin," said a voice over the communication unit. He was a stranger, and sounded half apologetic, half pitying. "Can we release you from the carrier?"

"Yes," said Noin. "I am ready."

"You know the game plan. We are monitoring you closely."

Noin remembered what was digging into her hip now. The bundle of electrodes. There was a jerk as the mobile suit was released from the carrier, and she saw it depart further into space to an observation point.

"Prepare youself for the attack, Lieutenant Noin... Good luck."

The first of the enemy suits appeared in the upper left quadrant a moment later. Noin had never seen the design before; it was a strange combination of tank and suit, hovering on a bed of heat-distortion as it approached. Tallgeese turned, fired one experimental round, and Noin observed that it did little damage to the machine's tough carapace. She stabbed downward with her beam sabre, penetrating the first layers. A second stab, and the machine was sliced open. It reminded Noin of an apple, weirdly enough.

There was brief respite. The second machine had been waiting in the wings, and fired as soon the first had fallen. The force of the impact flung Tallgeese forward, and Noin quickly hit a blast on the thrusters to correct for it. Turning, she hefted Tallgeese's shield directly into the enemy machine, denting its side. She fired at the weakened spot, and jumped back as it exploded.

"She's doing brilliantly," noted one of the captains from the observation ship.

Major Girot stroked his upper lip. "I had a feeling she was that woman from OZ. This is very good."

Now I know the danger of piloting Tallgeese. Its weight and its speed combine to produce immense centrifugal forces in the cockpit. When I turn, when I move, I put myself under immense stresses... I feel so dizzy, like I've just been spun round and round and round -

Beam sabre. Stab. Shoot. Slice. Jump back. Turn, fire. Fire again.

Even on Mars, with a fraction of Earth's gravity, I feel so heavy.... And so tired... And as if I'm suffocating... I thought it was merciful that they did not all attack at once, but ultimately, it's Tallgeese that is killing me, not their weapons...

There was a gush of warmth above her left hip, but Noin did not have time to wonder why. The last mobile suit approached, and she destroyed it with her last surge of energy. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.

They had picked up Tallgeese and lifted Noin out of the straps. As the technicians removed the suit they had found out why the monitors on her vital signs had gone crazy in the last few minutes of the test. The electrode bundle had cut into her flesh, hitting fairly large veins. The blood had shorted them.

"Alex, Mueller? Have they gone to - ? ...... No. Don't do it, Zechs. I won't let you."

Jorn clenched his fists. "It is unthinkable. They must have the antibiotics, they simply will not save her! How many days it has been.... how few days are left...."

There was a timid knock on the door, and the Chief Warder appeared. He looked around surreptitiously, and then produced a small bag. "These antibiotics have expired, they probably won't be so effective, but they're all I have." Surprised, the Dane revised his opinion of the people in charge, and moved aside so that the Chief Warder could feel Noin's forehead. "God, she's burning up. Lieutenant Lin was right, it's more than just the pain of the injury. It's the infection."

"Thank you. When she wakes we will give them to her."

The warder shook his head gravely. She will not wake easily. Come. You must help me with the injection. Hold her steady."

The injection was administered, and then the warder looked round nervously again. "Major Girot has refused to let her be shuttled to a hospital," he whispered. "He says they need her to correlate the Tallgeese tests."

Jorn growled, sounding more like a bear than ever.

"But," continued the Chief Warder, "I received this communication last night. Look!"

Sally only powered up the thrusters in short bursts, gliding except where she had to avoid asteroids. Though there was no way to hear their burn in the silence of space, their radiated heat might show up all too easily if she was not careful. She navigated her way past several asteroids, carefully scanning their surfaces.

And then she saw it. The huge asteroid with the double impact crater. There was a reflective object, a square sheet of aluminium perhaps, on its surface.

Minutes later she had berthed and was floating towards the silvery sheet. The asteroid was large, but gravity was negligible, and she saw that the silver sheet was about two square metres in area and securely stapled into the rock. Quickly cutting through it, she only hoped she was not too late...

Layers of aluminium and heat-retentive padding were ripped away, and underneath, in a grey spacesuit, with an oxygen canister beside her, was the inert form of Lucrezia Noin. Lifting her out of the small depression was easy, and Sally soon had her within the ship. The first order was to inject the powerful antibiotics she had prepared into Noin's vein, together with painkillers.

Noin's eyes opened as the needle punctured her skin. "Sally... I must be delirious."

"Yes." A pause. "No." Another pause, and Sally put the needles away so she could give her friend a hug. "Lucrezia Noin, it's been too long. Thank heaven you're still salvageable."