Testimony II by Katharine
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Story Notes:

This one takes place about midway through the team's active careers, before the events of "Monsters" and "Invader".  Also, an error that was in the original posting of the fic has been corrected. 


 

I don't want to talk right now. Just leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.

You don't want to know. It's bad. Worse than anything so far. Give me a little time to figure it all out, okay? And then…maybe. Maybe later.

I know I can trust you, it's just that…I don't want to dump this on you. Yeah, you know we do it to each other to get ourselves through the rough stuff…but this is different. What happened…I can't even tell the others. It's that bad.

I did something stupid, really wrong, and I don't know how to fix it, or where to go besides a court martial hearing. I don't know what to do, except pray I didn't start something that'll make things go bad for us in the future.

That Zagreb thing last night? You saw it on the news, didn't you? Yeah, that was us. We were there. We were in there.

Two weeks ago Interpol and Mossad confirmed it as Gallactor's, site for the development of a new chemical weapon. Jay and Jun spent days after prepping for the run, digging through every shred of intel they could get their hands on: armaments, personnel rotations, schematics, schematics of schematics…we wanted to know that base better than Gallactor themselves before green-lighting a shake-down. They usually keep their containment units on site in underground bunkers, so we had Beta teams on stand-by, the Chimera and Panope waiting for Marc's call to burn them out.

We got in easy, Jay and Jun did their thing to hack the base's grids and locate the containment units; within minutes we had data in our hands and targets for the gunships to sweep and burn. We were done and on our way out when some goon on a solo patrol just happened to look up in the wrong direction at the wrong time and none of us were in range to pop him. The goon sounded an alarm and just like that it went all bad.

Marc had us scatter. It confuses the hell out of them because they always expect us to band together and do some flashy team maneuver to get out of a jam, and it forces them to split up into thinner ranks that's easier for us to pick off individually. Staying in unit is great for unknown situations but all it really does is give them a combined target to aim at. We had the base so dialed in, we already knew where all the escape points were. Marc ordered the gunships in to firebomb the place, using strafe-runs he'd planned out with their crews. It worked out great as cover for us while we bugged the hell out of there.

I was running for an egress when a shot from the Panope came too close and took out my side of the structure; I almost got buried. I knew Jay wasn't too far off so I turned to follow him out instead, and that's when I tripped over a downed Devil Star.

Yeah, one of their assassins. They're elite, far more skilled than their Blackbirds could ever dream to be. Whenever we see one, we don't hesitate to kill it. To Jay, they're not even human. He's got more compassion for roaches, and you know why.

But this one was different. She was unmasked, not even a cover of makeup on her skin, and she was scared shitless. One look at me and she went into hysterics, trying to get away from me, practically trying to crawl into a crack in the wall, and that was abnormal. Injure one and she'll still try to kill you, or kill herself if there's no way. Capture to them is unacceptable, shameful. They drill that first into their recruits, usually their own sisters…daughters…and I think that's what this one was. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, maybe sixteen, and she was bleeding to death.

It was a bad impact injury to her left arm that was doing it. The radial bone was gonzo out of a four-inch laceration, vessels ripped and pouring all over the place. She was already in shock, going diaphoretic, her skin turning gray. I should have left her there. But she was just a kid. Somebody's baby girl, bleeding out all over the floor.

I knew what to do: a pressure-bandage to stop the blood and an inflatable splint to keep her arm from falling off. I didn't even have to think about it, it's all automatic. I just dropped down and got to work.

That stupid, stupid little girl—what did she think she was getting into, some adventurous glamour-life, spy-movie shit? Did she have any idea what Gallactor really thought of kids like her? All their talk about honor and self-sacrifice for their mothers and sisters…they're just pending cannon-fodder, all of them, Devil Stars on down. Any of them would abandon her in a heartbeat if it meant better chances for their own survival. It's true—we see them scatter and run all the time, regardless of rank. I've never in my life seen any one Gallactor goon stop to help an injured mate. Not once. Katse's the worst—the freak'll jump ship at the first opportunity and leave his men to go down in flames. I told her that while I was wrapping her up. Told her she was too damned young for a casket, and even then her chances of ending up in one are slim to none because they'd just leave her wherever she dropped and let her rot.

I don't know why I said any of that to her. I don't even know why I helped her. It was all just automatic- injured kid in a war zone. I was even thinking about packing her out when Marc hollered at me from the warship's bridge, wondering where the hell I was. And that's when it hit me—I'm wrapping up a Devil Star. Not only am I committing treason by giving aid and comfort to the enemy, but I'm kicking every purpose and ideal we have in our lives, every objective we're trying to carry to protect this world, and worst of all I'm knifing Jay right in the middle of his goddamn back.

I couldn't face him coming home. I just holed up in my Tracker all the way here, and now everyone thinks I saw something horrible and don't want to talk about it and all that other PTS psychiatric bullshit. Jun won't stop trying to pry it out, and how can I tell her? How can I stand in the same room with any of them now? Oh God, I'm so sorry to dump this on your head, but I don't know what to do. I don't know how to take this back. I'm an idiot. I can't face any of them anymore.

 

     Key Akihiro sat hunched over on his bed as he spoke, the bed he'd shared with Kelley Takahashi for the better part of the year, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him to look at her. His anguished gaze remained fixed at the wall.
     Worst of all, she couldn't think of what to say. She had no wartime experience of her own to fall back on for edification or answers; no one in her circle to tap into save for G-Force and the rare few of their stories she'd been privileged enough to overhear within the sanctity of the loft Jun had built over her nightclub, just for that purpose. The most blood she'd ever seen, she knew with insecurity, was from the bicycle messenger who'd ran a red light and whacked the side of her aging Saab. All her life had been spent in the shelter of the City, cozy within her parents' home and then the university, wise only to the ways of the typical street bum or punk but never to the personal threat of Gallactor. When she'd met Key through mutual contact of Jun's carefully chosen business partners, she'd been aghast to later learn he was a G-Forcer. The merrily smart-assed guy prone to goofball stunts and impromptu small-animal rescue just didn't fit her imaginings of a rigidly straight-laced soldier.
     Now she was terrified for him, only two heartbeats away from full uniform and all the potentially self-destructive power of his armaments. She was terrified of herself, that she'd do or say something completely stupid or useless for him.
     "I'll go back to Coral," he lowly decided. "Let Security know. Take what I deserve."
     Go back, or jump off the pier? Kelley questioned with a fresh bloom of panic. She didn't want him to go anywhere, didn't want to let him out of her sight. She reached for his hands, and clamped her grip around them when he tried to pull away. "You don't deserve what you think you'll get. Not for saving some lost kid—"
     Key let out a short, caustic laugh. "'Lost kid'? Her picture's not on the back of any milk cartons. You don't know them, Kelley. She was—"
     "—stuck in there by her crazy mom," Kelley interrupted. "You said so yourself. If she wasn't trying to kill you, then I guess her heart just wasn't in it, or Gallactor in general, was it?"
     "That's not the point," Key snapped. "I just gave a leg-up to the next generation of Gallactor assassins. I should have killed her right there. It would've been a blessing for the world and probably for herself too, because if Jay ever got to her, it wouldn't be pretty. Scared now, sure; chalk it up to inexperience. But believe me, it'll wear off as they train her and the next time she shows up, she'll be blowing someone else's family straight to hell."
     He looked at Kelley then, and the shame in his eyes tore her apart. "How do I apologize for that?"
     He pulled off his wristband and handed it to her. "Jun's downstairs. Give this to her after I've left."
     She stared at it for a long moment, the only thing besides G-Force's fraternity that remained constant in their lives, within and out of war. Which shielded them with armor, and connected them as one. Key was holding it so loosely, it was about to slip through his fingers.
     "I can't do that," she whispered.
     Key sighed in exasperation. "You said you wanted to help me. This is the only way how."
     "I can't do that, because you don't need to apologize for anything. You helped a dying girl, and you did it because you didn't see her for what she might turn into."
     Kelley tried again to turn him towards her, touching his face, trying to pull him close. "You did it because you have something Jay doesn't have, and may never have."
     Key glanced at her then, askance with doubt.
     "Mercy," she answered. "You have mercy."
     She held him then.
     It was the best she could do.

 

     After Key spiraled down into an exhausted sleep, she left his side long enough to go down to the loft.
     "It was a kid," she spoke from the doorway into its darkened interior, then turned and went back to his apartment.
     At that, Jun felt all her worry turn into bleak sorrow. There was nothing more that could be said; cruel experience told her that nothing more could be done.
     For a moment she debated following Kelley up, just to check on him.
     "No," Marc said to her from behind.
     She turned, intending to object. He moved out of the shadowed corner of the room to center her, his staid gaze holding her firm.
     "Leave it alone," he told her. "Leave it at that."

 

     Inside Crescent Coral Island, the Pacific Operations command center was powered down for the night to only a few crucial systems, their broad displays illuminating geographic and logistical data. Mixed civilian and uniformed military personnel populated the dark and cavernous arena, all silently and intently at work in the hallowed quiet of 0200 hours, surveying, studying and plotting strategy against the enemy that like themselves, never ceased.
     An incoming message from Europe surprised the ensign at the communications post; he quickly read the hail and then pushed back from the console to search for one officer in particular. He spotted him sitting a few yards away, in the civilian casual of a simple Henley shirt and jeans, coffee in one hand and the other at a small laptop computer, scrolling through a report sent from a far-flung Earth Defense Command outpost. Not really absorbing it, but instead reminiscing the events of the past mission: what went wrong, what couldn't have been helped…what could have been. Exhaustion creased his features, evidence of that mission and the continuing on-duty tour which was approaching forty hours straight with no end in sight.
     "Sir?" the ensign discreetly asked. "Something's just come in."
     "Origin?" Jay Randall, G-Force's second in command asked.
     "It's from Interpol, in Athens. They say they have a person of interest in custody. They're asking for G-Force directly."
     Why us? Jay wondered. There were at least three EDC posts in Greece, one that partnered directly with the International Criminal Police Organization and hunted for Gallactor all over Macedonia.
     "I can contact one of the others if you want," the ensign offered.
     "No. I'm the only one right now. Patch it into three."
     Inside Conference Room Three, Jay greeted the Interpol agent.
     "I apologize for the late contact, Lieutenant Commander," the agent began. "But this has implications that may affect you and your people. It simply cannot wait."
     "That's alright, Nikolas," Jay said. "It's good to see you again."
     "And you as well." Nikolas paused, turning grim. "Just two hours ago, a Gallactor agent surrendered at a police station in Kozani. She began to talk, unprompted, and they immediately flew her to us."
     "'She'…" Jay bristled, his cerebonics immediately flaring.
     "A fourteen year old girl," Nikolas clarified. "She says she has come to us because the life she's been pressed into is death. Before she dies, she says, she wants to bring perdition to her killers."
     "To them?"
     "To her cadre."
     Instantly, the heat rushing through Jay's hardwiring was smashed by shock.
     "It's amazing, what she has revealed so far…" Nikolas went on. "She has requested transfer to your people specifically. Agreeably, this is something that demands higher security, more authority than what we are capable of. This requires… special treatment."
     "I'll need time to arrange transport," Jay said. "We'll need to do this without attracting attention."
     "I'll wait for your call."
     Nikolas' gaze held him. "I wonder, if I may ask, if you are familiar with the letter that Paul wrote to the Galatians?"
     "Yes."
     Nikolas solemnly nodded. "I thought that you might. It certainly applies now, doesn't it?"
      It was a long moment before Jay could find it in himself to answer. "Yes, it does."
     "I will coordinate with you personally," Nikolas finished. "No one else will have contact with her until you and your people arrive."
     "Until then…" Jay said.
     "Until then," Nickolas affirmed. "Blessings to you and your friends, sir."
     The video feed terminated, and Jay remained in the empty conference room feeling stunned and nauseated. It was a perfect trigger for a migraine, and he could sense one slowly creeping on.
     "Actual, two," he called into his communicator. "We have a situation."
     "Go ahead," Marc returned.
     As he spoke, Jay tried to imagine a fourteen year old girl, frightened and trembling inside a small Athenian room, and couldn't.
     "How are you going to handle this?" his commander asked.
     "She needs protective custody, but not the notoriety we bring. I'll go in on a domestic flight, and see if I can dead-head us back on a Marine transport." He paused, appraising the best way to twist the circumstance to their advantage. "I'm going to take Key along," he added. "She'll need to see a friendly face."
     He turned his mind toward logistics, the peace of an eighteen-hour flight in the business-class sleeper berths of a Virgin Atlantic jet. "So will Key."

 

 

 

TESTIMONY II

 

A work of fanfiction by Katharine. Characters © Tatsunoko Pro, Sandy Frank Entertainment, and KFM.

With special thanks to Diinzumo, who never ceases to mercilessly edit this stuff.

 

© KFM, June 2009. Disturbed World Productions/Canon Fodder, Inc.

 

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