Battle Armor - Soul Forge Series Part
4 by Zooie
Standard disclaimers apply
Author’s Notes: This is the fic that wouldn’t end. It just
goes on and on, my friend. Some baka started writing it intending a
one shot. And she’ll continue writing it forever ‘cause
she’s caught...
Read this like you would a newspaper. Look FAR between the lines.
Big gaps between paragraphs are supposed to be the passage of time,
as though Duo were sitting there staring at his journal for extended
periods, but not actually writing anything.
Why Duo writes as if he’s addressing Dr. G.: I chose to do this
because, judging from the series, he doesn’t talk back to the
man. He may gripe, he may complain, but he always does what G says without
hesitation. He mostly trusts him, yet I’m certain he still has
his doubts and questions. What better place to resolve those than in
a journal? Since G seems to know him better than he knows himself, it
makes sense that he’d be the force to makes Duo keep one. Eliminate
the problem before there is a problem.
I pictured Duo as using a datapad-type journal, but if you want to picture
him writing, that works, too.
AC193, 05, 16
Dr. G is making me write this. Says it'd be good for me to have something
that's really my own. He seems to think that if you grow up with nothing,
you'll become materialistic the second circumstances change. Yeah, sure.
Okay. For so brilliant a guy, he can be pretty dim at times.
I hope I can get through the rest of today without flipping out. He
really pissed me off.
Damn. What kind of a moronic idea is that? When you grow up not knowing
if you're gonna wake up the next morning you really don't care how many
pairs of socks ya own! And when you're living in a orphanage you learn
to share what little there is pretty damn quick. I don't think keeping
a stupid journal is going to undo a lifetime worth of experience! I
don’t need some stupid thing to make me feel “normal.”
You probably just want me to write this so you can sneak a peak later.
Pervert.
But that isn't fair. You’re creepy, you’re weird, and you’re
probably insane, but you are pretty damned trustworthy. Not that you’re
above manipulating the hell out of me when it suits your purposes, but
you haven't lied to me so far. I appreciate that in a person.
What're you supposed to write in a journal anyway?
This is so pointless.
AC193, 05, 20
I want my clothes back, you bastard. If we were anywhere civilized,
I'd report you to the child protection agency. This is just... wrong!
I have my pride, dammit!
Okay, okay, I know where you're going with this. I know I'm gonna be
in a space suit a lot of the time I'm piloting. I know I have to be
comfortable in the thing. I know I have to get used to moving in it
and how it pinches your joints and the miserable way it chafes your
neck. I know I have to be able to get it on and off in a second. I get
that. What I don't get is why it was necessary for you to confiscate
my normal clothes. What, are you afraid I'll steal the suit and runaway?
Where the hell would I go? On an evening stroll? You've got this ship
floating around in the middle of nowhere!
I don’t know why I trust you. You're sick. I hope you choke on
your nose.
AC193, 05, 20
You could have told me it was easier to get used to a space suit if
you're not wearing layers. Would that have been so hard? Would it have
been so impossible to say, "Duo, if you wear the suit over your
normal clothes it's going to be rather binding and make movements more
difficult that they already are. We'll get you used to the suit itself
and then let you try it over your clothes." But no! I had to find
out from Pia! And she nearly laughed her ass off! Jeez. I wouldn't have
been complaining if I'd known there was a reason for it! Now I feel
like an idiot.
And, ah, yeah. Thanks for sending my clothes to the laundry. I’m
sorry I thought you’d hidden them. Maybe I kinda deserved to feel
like an idiot.
AC193, 05, 28
You're enjoying this, aren't you? I think you like to make me angry.
I think you get a kick out of it. You probably laugh for hours afterwards
just thinking about it. You probably get off on getting me pissed. And
you do it so insufferably well. Blue ribbon for Duo-baiting is hereby
awarded to the sadistic scientist with the big-ass hair! Come on down
and accept your award!
Laugh all you want. I'll bet you didn't do so well the first time you
shot a gun, either... although I guess you probably did better than
me. You could've warned me about the kick, though. Maybe then I would've
had a chance to brace myself and it wouldn't've slammed me into the
wall. Serves you right if I'm too sore to train tomorrow. Who'll have
the last laugh then?
AC193, 06, 14
What. Was. That. I have never seen you so angry. I thought you wanted
me to do what you said. I thought you were sick of arguing with me about
every little thing. I thought you’d like it if I went along with
your ideas without question. Instead you smacked me in the head with
your clipboard and started muttering incoherently. What did I do?!!!!
As if that wasn’t bad enough, now you’re throwing shit at
me at all times of the day. I can’t even relax when I’m
in my room, anymore, without wondering if a book or a wrench or something’s
gonna come shooting out of nowhere. It’s getting hard to concentrate.
I keep wondering when you’re going to strike next!! Jeez, all
the guys have noticed how jumpy I am. Vern won’t let me use the
welder anymore ‘cause he’s afraid I’m gonna fry someone’s
hair off -especially my own.
By the way, thanks for letting me keep it. I know you wanted to give
me a haircut the second you saw me. I’m glad you understand how
much it means to me. It’s all I have of the past, you know? I
may not know who I am or where I’m from, but at least I have some
proof of where I’ve been. Something more than memories.
But anyway, back to the projectile paraphernalia. That is so not fair!
And you got me good this morning. Damn near knocked my arm off with
that one. Don’t worry; Dr. Pollock says the bruise you left will
be gone in a few days. You’re gonna have to stop smacking me with
things, G. It’s getting harder and harder to say those bruises
are a part of my training. You know how I feel about lying... not that
that’s a lie, precisely, but it’s definitely skirting the
truth. Especially when I’m not really sure how it does fit into
my training.
AC193, 07, 25
Come on, G, do I really have to start writing in this thing again? How
the hell did you even figure out I’d stopped, anyway? I know you
didn’t read it. Made sure of that myself. I wasn’t a thief
for so long for nothing! I can pick every lock or break every code there
is and that goes for making ‘em, too! There’s no way in
hell you hacked this thing. If you had, I’d know it. You’re
good, but I’m better.... I think. I hope.
Umm. I guess I’d better start being more generous in my portrayal
of you, huh? Just in case.
Screw it. If you read this, you deserve what you get.
So... what’s been going on since the last time I wrote... I figured
out why you were chucking stuff at me: combat training. Re-creation
of a battlefield environment. Be prepared for everything, be able to
function under duress, constantly be on edge, learn to ignore pain,
etc. etc. Now that I know what your purpose is, it’s a lot easier
to dodge. I’m not all distracted with the “whys.”
I’m glad I realized what you were up to before you beaned me a
good one. Damn, G, when ya gonna learn? I grew up on the street. You
don’t have to teach me that shit! Not that I don’t appreciate
a little refresher course -it has been years- but that isn’t the
type of stuff you forget. When you gonna realize that? The past is not
over and done with. It’s here with us every second of the day.
I’m getting sick of the food you’ve got them feeding me.
Not that I’m complaining, exactly. I’ll eat whatever you
put in front of me. But could I please have something besides high-protein
foods once in a while? It’s getting kind of boring. The occasional
piece of chicken or bowl of cereal wouldn’t be too much to ask,
huh? Well, I guess the cereal is out of the question, with the ship’s
gravity and all, but, still. As much as I appreciate eating, a little
variety is nice, too.
Speaking of food... it really bothers me the way some of the guys waste
it. They’re constantly taking more than they can eat and then
just throwing the excess away. That’s not easy to watch, you know?
Can’t you ship the leftovers to L2 or something? I can think of
plenty of people there who wouldn’t turn their nose up at an overcooked
pork chop.
AC193, 08, 09
I’m really starting to miss the days when I bounced from lesson
to lesson. Being with you all day gets a bit tiresome. The only time
I leave your side is when I’ve got to eat, sleep, use the john,
help Vern with repairs, or when you’re making me write this. The
only one of my old teachers who I see anymore is Reinhardt and he’s
still as big of a pain as ever. I thought he’d ended my lessons
with him, anyway. When did that change?! Why does nobody tell me anything?
Now I’m eating dinner with him everyday in front of the vid screens.
He’s always making these strange little comments and asking me
if I know who I am yet while he stuffs himself full of steak and spinach.
Freak.
Okay, I take that back. He’s actually pretty cool when he’s
not throwing chess pieces all over the place. And I like talking current
events with him. He makes me see how everything affects everything else.
That’s damned fascinating! It’s like we’re all connected.
It does make it harder to understand the conflict between the earth
and the colonies, though. Can’t they see what’s happening
to them?!
AC193, 08, 16
Boy, G, when you said you were intensifying the lessons, you didn’t
joke around, huh? I’ve never been so tired in my entire life and
that’s saying a lot. dfvfrgfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
[1]
Whoa. Dozed off for a min. Sleep now; write later.
AC193, 08, 30
I liked playing around in the propulsion chair today. That was fun!
I think I did better than you expected, too, because you didn’t
yell at me as much as usual. Although you did get a little upset when
I did a barrel roll. Hey, I have to learn to trust the harnesses, too,
right?! Oh, and thanks for making me wear a helmet.
I’ve been thinking, G, and I realized something. This is the first
time in my life when I’ve been positive there was going to be
food on the table. It’s the first time I knew there was enough
water to go around. It’s the first chance I’ve had to act
like a kid and not worry about getting myself or anyone killed or hurt.
It’s weird. I’ve been responsible for myself and others
for so long. Now all of a sudden you hold my fate in your hands. That’s....
hard to swallow. I don’t like it. No one is responsible for Duo
Maxwell but Duo Maxwell, got it?!!!!!
But it’s a little late to regret things now. I guess I’ll
just have to deal with it.
AC193, 09, 10
This journal thing is starting to grow on me. I think I understand what
you’re up to with this one. If I’m writing down what’s
bothering me and what I’m thinking about, I’m not keeping
it all inside. I’m dealing with it and learning to think about
emotions in a logical manner. It’s getting easier not to fly off
the handle when you pull some lame trick out of your ass. I’m
even learning not to talk so much when I’m nervous or stressed
or upset or whatever. Hey, maybe one day I won’t talk at all!!!
Yeah, and one day Reinhardt will wear ruffles.
So, anyway, now that I have this journal I can write things down and
think about them for a bit before I get all worked up. I like that.
It’s different from what I‘ve been doing. I’ve been
flying by the seat of my pants for so long, it’s nice to be able
to relax and think before acting for once.
And, wow! Lo and behold! When I’m not making snap judgments I’m
actually pretty laid back!
Bad thing about learning to relax is that when you get all tense again,
you notice.
AC193, 09, 29
Okay, G, I think it’s safe to say I’ve mastered the propulsion
chair. Can we move onto something else now? I’m getting a little
bored with hovering around in the docking berth. Have I graduated yet
or what?!
I’ve never been this far from the moon before. It doesn’t
look as ugly as it did from L2. But then, everything looks ugly from
there.
Except Earth.
AC193, 10, 08
I think I’m going to have to make you a list of all the things
I already know how to do. That way you don’t keep wasting your
time trying to teach me things I figured out a long time ago. Sheesh.
Okay, here we go:
1. You do not have to teach me to read body language, facial expressions,
or lips. You do not live very long on the streets unless you can tell
what mood people are in and what they’re talking about.
2. You do not have to teach me evasion or hiding techniques. If you
cannot successfully disappear after robbing someone blind, there’s
not much point in trying.
3. You do not have to teach me stealth techniques. If you cannot fit
into a crowd without notice, you never get close enough to someone to
rob them at all.
4. You do not have to teach me to pick conventional locks or hack digital
locks. I’ve been doing that since I can remember.
5. You do not have to teach me the element of surprise. I’ve always
had bad timing and it’s basically the same thing.
6. You do not have to teach me to manipulate people’s emotions.
I may choose not to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I’ve
sweet-talked my way out of sticky situations many times before.
7. You do not have to teach me the art of disguise. I don’t exactly
know who I am, right now, so pretending to be someone else isn’t
much of a stretch.
I’m too tired to think of anything else. Rest assured that I’ll
inform you the next time you’re being a bonehead.
AC193, 10, 14
Today was... different. I’ve never seen myself in a mirror before.
Sure, I’ve seen my reflection in puddles and windows and stuff,
but I never really paid attention. And while the school used to have
these teeny, warped mirrors hanging over the bathroom sinks, they were
as busted as the rest of the place. I never looked in the things, anyway.
I mean, what was the point? What was I going to see? Bloody Mary? [2]
Who cares what I look like?! How is knowing that going to change anything?
It doesn’t make a difference. None at all. I’ve gotten this
far without knowing. Sure, things haven’t been fun, but that’s
not ‘cause I’ve never looked in a goddamn mirror. Shit happens
and knowing how I look isn’t going to change a thing.
But now that I have seen myself, I’m walking around thinking about
how I look all the time. And that’s annoying! Because I don’t
even care! And I can’t stop wondering what other people see when
they look at me! How do I know if I look good or bad?! Damn you, G!
Now I’m all self-conscious!
It felt like I was looking at someone else’s face. It didn’t
feel like I was looking at me. That’s... not what I see in my
mind when I think of Duo Maxwell.
I wonder what Sister Helen and Father Maxwell saw when they looked at
me?
I wonder what he saw?
I didn’t realize I smiled so much. I even smile when I’m
mad.... I smile more when I’m mad.
I never knew my eyes were so big. I look like that startled deer that
was in my ecology textbooks. Like I’m going to run at any second.
I can understand now why people used to think I was a girl. I’ll
admit that when I was a kid, I must’ve looked like one. Not anymore,
though, even with all the hair. Be thankful for small favors, I guess.
I just... I didn’t know I looked so.... young. Because I sure
don’t feel that way.
I don’t think I like mirrors.
AC193, 10, 31
“A new civilization is emerging in our lives, and blind men everywhere
are trying to suppress it.” Reinhardt said that tonight at dinner.
We were sitting in front of the vid screens, watching the news broadcasts,
eating as usual. He had his steak and spinach, I had my protein-rich
meal bar, he was wound up about politics, I was exhausted and half-dozing,
and all was normal. Then, right in the middle of a report about Alliance
negotiations, he came out with that. When he said it I just kind of
grunted, but now that I’ve had a chance to mull it over....
People are really afraid of change, huh? They seem to think that all
changes are for the worse, that they’re gonna get screwed over
unless things stay the same. They want things to stay exactly the way
they are, but they’re always rushing around trying to change things
anyway. They say they’re trying to make things better. To build
faster shuttles. To design more efficient manufacturing plants. To create
superior medical procedures. They’re always trying to change themselves,
to make life better for everyone, and yet they’re fighting themselves
every step of the way. They put restrictions on their inventions, limiting
who can afford to use them. They make laws and do checks, impose rules
and then fail to enforce them. They make a big deal about everything,
at least until the next big concept comes along. Then all is forgotten
and they move onto their new toy.
Why do people think these things matter so much? Why don’t they
just appreciate that they’re alive? Why don’t they just
enjoy themselves while they can? People on Earth don’t understand
things at all. They live down there in their sheltered little bubble,
with their ancient buildings and outdated perspectives. They’ve
lived in comfort for so long they forget that life on the colonies isn’t
like that. They forget that, even though they have a warm house and
plenty of food and water, not everyone does. That some people, living
thousands of miles above them, go to bed at night praying the air filters
don’t break down and suffocate them in their sleep. They don’t
consider that on the colonies, life isn’t guaranteed. It isn’t
preserved by the natural ecosystem. It’s manmade and things made
by men have a tendency to fall apart. They just go about their happy
little lives, doing their best to wring every available resource out
of the colonies above them. They don’t look at the stars and see
beauty. They see dollar signs. They see the next new toy.
I know not all Earth people are like that. . It just seems like all
the ones who matter are.
I guess I’m tired. I didn’t realize how bitter this sounded
until I was done. It’s funny, really, to get so worked up over
one stupid comment.
But I can’t laugh, not tonight, not even at myself. Tonight I
can’t even pretend to smile.
AC193, 11, 13
You finally introduced me to Deathscythe, today. When you let me into
the cockpit... I don’t know how to say it, G, but it was like
I... belonged. It just felt like what we were doing was so right. Like
as long as I had Deathscythe, everything was going to be okay.
I don’t know if I’ll ever say this out loud, but thank you.
AC193, 12, 13
It’s been exactly a month since I’ve made any entries. I
just haven’t needed to. I’ve been sitting in Deathscythe
every day, learning where the controls are and how to read the console.
I’ve been... calm. When I’m sitting in his cockpit, it’s
like I’m not a part of the world. I feel like I’m almost
asleep. I completely relax. Weird, that a machine designed to kill could
make me feel so tranquil.
You promised me that once I learn the controls I would take Scythe out
into space for more training lessons. I hope I don’t have to wait
too much longer. We both know I’ve got his control panel down
pat.
And now I’m nervous. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t
control him? What if he gets away from me and I accidentally ruin the
ship?
I couldn’t live with that.
AC193, 12, 15
Piloting Scythe is a lot different from sitting in him. That makes me
calm. Piloting makes me... hyper-vigilant. It’s like all of a
sudden there’s so much more to the world. It seems bigger and
freer and more open. And I’m part of it.
Even though I didn’t really get to use the controls, today was
amazing. Just floating around for an hour was more than enough. I don’t
think I could have done anything, anyway. I was too busy just breathing.
AC194, 01, 03
Every day is just more and more mind-boggling. Scythe is so graceful.
He’s just incredible. He moves just how I want him to. It’s
not even a struggle! When you let us out of the hangar and we drift
out into space, I feel so... alive. I’m not Duo, the mooching
street rat. I’m Duo, the Gundam pilot. The talented Gundam pilot.
Even you admit that I’m good at this.
I like being good at something that matters.
AC194, 01, 11
If I wasn’t in shape before, I am now. Scythe sure pilots a lot
differently when he’s got a weapon. His center of balance is different
and he’s harder to keep upright. I’m learning to go with
the momentum, but it’s disorienting and exhausting. Swinging that
scythe around all day is a killer! My arms feel like they’re made
of gundam, instead of Scythe’s. Heh. A scythe for Scythe.
He he.
I’m going to bed.
AC194, 01, 24
If I ever hear the words “target practice” again, I’m
going to shoot someone. Now that I can.
Damn. Is that one of those catch 22 things?
After spending so long training with Scythe, it was damn cruel of you
to yank me back to defense training. I don’t care how gravity
sick I am. I’d rather be puking in Scythe than shooting guns or
learning hand-to-hand combat techniques with Pia. This totally sucks.
Besides, I already know how to street fight. That’s good enough
for me. But, no! Pia says that while that’s great for my offense,
for my defense I have to know standard techniques. Then I can recognize
when they’re being used on me and effectively counteract them.
Damn logical bitch. I don’t need to be able to predict when someone’s
gonna kick me. I’ll know soon enough! I guess it is a good idea
to know pressure points and stuff, though. That might come in handy
if things got a little rough.
I do definitely need more practice with the guns, though. One of the
things I learned on L2 was to avoid guns like the plague. (ouch. bad
pun.) The authorities would go easy on you if you weren’t armed.
The second your prints were found on a gun, you could kiss your ass
good-bye. I never even held a gun before this, let alone shot one. So,
yeah, I do need some more practice. I can usually hit what I’m
aiming at, now, but I’d like a little more accuracy. I’m
pretty good with the pistol, but the rifles are another story. They’re
pretty hard to control, especially in rapid fire mode. They jerk all
over the place.
But yes, thanks to you I can now not only identify about a hundred different
types of weapons, I can also correctly disassemble, clean, and reassemble
the vast majority of them. I know about three different hand-to-hand
fighting techniques --for both gravity and non-gravity environments--
and can build a cornucopia of explosive devices. I can rig traps, I
can memorize floor plans at a glance, I can carry my own weight in equipment.
I can hack into any operating system, I can read satellite images, I
can interpret beta scripting. I know basic first aid, I can stitch up
a wound evenly, I can apply a pressure tourniquet or a splint. I can
navigate through space with nary a landmark, I can distinguish between
different mobile suits and ships with a glance, I can read Morse code.
I know how to thwart torture techniques, I can interpret incomplete
data, I can even dress myself!!! Wow! I can I can do all this and the
shit I already knew. You have taught me well. Now can I please get back
to Scythe?!!
AC194, 02, 06
You told me today that soon I wouldn’t have time for this journal.
You said that I would be far too occupied to write in a stupid book.
You called it a worthless project and regretted you had made me waste
my time.
I dunno, I think you were wrong about that. I don’t think this
was a waste of time, at all.
I’m starting to see myself when I look in the mirror.
I don’t know what we’re going to be doing for the next few
months or so, but I can tell you’re upset about something. Your
eyes have been doing that twitchy thing and you keep rubbing at your
knuckles like you do when they hurt. And they only hurt when you’ve
been staying up all night working. And if you’re staying up all
night working, that means something is majorly wrong. I hope you let
me in on it before you wear yourself down. Let me know what the problem
is.
Then I can help you fix it.
That’s one thing you’ve tried to teach me: identify the
problem, consider your choices, muster your allies (whatever they may
be), and then attack all opposition mercilessly. Quick, concise, to
the point. At least in theory.
I dunno, G. I still wonder. What happens when there is no clear problem?
What happens when your choices are gone and you can’t tell your
allies from your opposition? Isn’t showing mercy better than killing
in cold blood?
I don’t know what you’ve got planned, G. I just hope you
know what you’re doing.
*******
End Part 4
*******
[1] I actually laid my face down on the keyboard. This
is what came out.
[2] A game this tortuous and scarring is sure to have survived the ages.
After all, spandex did.
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