[Guilty Gear] Three Degrees to the Right, Part 3
Title: Three Degrees to the Right
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Part: 3/12
Characters: Sol, Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: violence
Notes: In which Ky tries to fix things, and Sol gets to menace.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII
Three Degrees to the Right
Part III
"It's all a royal mess, sir," the young corporal was saying, somewhat more confident in herself now that she was sure she wouldn't be facing a firing squad.
They were following her through a maze of nearly identical corridors, all bathed in the faintly blue lights reserved for the night shift, the monotony only broken by the occasional turn. Ky was beginning to think his earlier remark about the base layout had been correct.
"We barely know what's going on, ourselves-all we know is that Moscow started requesting immediate assistance at around 21:00 yesterday, but… we haven't moved since then, sir." She bit her lip. "I… really don't mean to talk badly about anyone, sir, but… we've gotten three separate calls and the commander's dismissed all of them. He said we should stand by for orders, but…"
"But now it's four in the morning."
"Yes, sir. And Moscow's… we don't know. We've been barred from the radio center. Everything's going crazy."
Ky frowned, trying to make sense of the story.
The discovery of the entire fleet at base still felt like a bad dream, despite the fact that he had come to calculate for all kinds of things. Panic, disorganization, distrust and even plain stupidity were almost a daily routine in the field, and the higher ranks of the Order were not exempt from them by far.
Kliff had taught him that a long time ago, lessons in command interspersed with lessons of the sword. "Never expect anyone to do the good thing. Or the sane thing. Or the right thing. Just expect everyone to fight you every step of the way."
They had both known he was exaggerating, but not by much-the higher one got on the chain of command, the more muddled the priorities became, until one ended up at one of the board meetings and realized just why certain requests were never being met, just what certain people were wasting precious time with.
"Do you have any idea what could have prompted this decision from Colonel Gorsky?"
"No, sir. Lieutenant Andreyev tried to reason with him, but…"
"But what, Corporal?"
"He's been detained for insubordination, sir, because he tried to start the evacuation on his own. Anyone who supported his attempt openly has also been detained. If anything happens-"
"Sounds like someone went cheerfully nuts," Sol said, frowning so deeply his eyes were almost disappearing beneath his headband.
It wouldn't have been the first time, either. There were enough stories of soldiers snapping under the pressure, and Ky had seen it happen, had been there to watch a commanding officer simply run out onto the battlefield screaming about judgment day, never to be seen again.
"W-we haven't noticed anything, sir," the Corporal squeaked. "Colonel Gorsky is a very intense man, but he's been a good leader, and-"
"Well, either he's gone nuts or he's had a lobotomy. There's only so many ways to get this stupid."
"That's enough," Ky said sharply. "These unprofessional assessments aren't helping anyone."
Sol mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Well, they're helping me," but he decided to let it slide. There were other matters requiring his attention right now.
He stopped, frowning. Belatedly, the soldiers noticed he wasn't following anymore, and turned to look at him questioningly. "Alright. We don't have any more time to waste. Corporal, you're coming with me. I'll get to the bottom of this. Privates?" Two salutes answered him. "You will accompany Sir Badguy to the holding cells."
"Sir!"
"Just so we're clear," he said, giving Sol a piercing look. "I don't want any broken bones or fires in the basement."
A smirk. "Can't promise anything if they go out of their way to make my job difficult."
"If I catch wind of anything untoward, I will hold you responsible."
It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Sol could be sufficiently menacing to a simple guard through his sheer presence. Reaching underneath his coat, Ky tugged the chain of dog-tags free, counting them out and removing one with a green rim. "This should be sufficient to release them. Pass code is 3 April 2172."
His eyebrows rising, Sol accepted the key tag. "Never took you for a romantic."
"It's fitting, considering how many times you should've been arrested since we met."
"And I'm sure you've kept track of every single one for me."
"Of course. Corporal, if you would…"
With that, he turned away, following the girl's lead down the corridor, and pretending he couldn't hear the other man's amused snort.
----
"Colonel Gorsky, sir?"
The desk seemed almost too small for the tall, broad-shouldered man hunched over its surface, absorbed in his paperwork. He didn't even look up at his visitors, his pen moving swiftly across the forms as if he hadn't heard at all. The corporal was barely resisting the urge to fidget, clearly wishing to be anywhere but here.
"Sir…?"
The pen stopped moving. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't wish to be disturbed."
The girl straightened. "There's someone here to see you, sir."
Finally, the colonel lifted his head, revealing a wizened face, piercing dark eyes sizing up his guest and the soldier to blame for bringing him here, before turning away again. The pen resumed its movements.
"I'm not sure what makes a new arrival think himself important enough to come see me personally, but I would have thought you'd know better than to encourage such an idea, Corporal."
The girl's eyes grew round. "Sir, that's-"
"Thank you, Corporal," Ky said. "I will take over from here. Please deliver a message to Sir Badguy for me-tell him to make the necessary preparations and then to meet me here. He'll know what I mean."
The pen dropped with an audible thump. "Hold it right there. Just who do you think you are?"
The girl froze like a rabbit, looking back and forth between them.
"Just go, Corporal," Ky murmured gently. "I'll sort out this matter. You're not to blame."
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, so she just nodded and hastily backed out of the room, the door falling shut to the noise of her footsteps fading into a run. Slowly, Ky turned back to face the colonel, whose expression was wavering between anger and incredulity.
"Colonel Gorsky, I've come here expecting to join arms in a fight that concerns all of us, and find myself being treated with utmost negligence. Since you seem to be having trouble discerning my position, I will introduce myself-I'm Commander Kiske, sent here on direct orders from Headquarters to coordinate and supervise any operations concerning the current situation."
Dark eyes widened for a second, before the colonel glared again. "So you're Undersn's wunderkind?"
He rose, coming around from behind the desk to regard Ky again, planting himself in front of him as if dealing with a nosy cadet.
The Order's policy of handing out rank according to ability rather than age was a nice idea on paper, but it had very little effect in practice-many people, even experienced soldiers, had their own notions of what constituted a leader. Even if Kliff hadn't spent so much time preparing him for his position, hadn't made sure to impart to him exactly what people would think of his age or his height or his skill, the pointless alpha male behavior had stopped meaning anything a long time ago. Now it was just another inconvenience.
Eventually, the colonel huffed, taking a step back. "I guess the right hand really doesn't know what the left hand is doing… I'm afraid your presence here is completely unnecessary. I've already taken measures to deal with the problem."
"You will have to forgive me, Colonel, if I find that hard to believe," Ky replied, smothering the anger that wanted to boil up at the casual dismissal. "I see a base of combat-ready soldiers and a hangar full of state-of-the-art ships, and I see a city in peril. The defense forces are asking for help, yet you ignore their pleas. I was willing to assume any number of reasons for this, but clearly you are fully aware of the situation. What is the meaning of this?"
"I assure you I have the Order's best interests in mind." Colonel Gorsky drew back, walking over to an area map pinned to the wall and picking up a marker, pointing out positions as if talking to a schoolboy. "We were expecting an unprecedented assault to our borders, yet ninety percent of combat activity is concentrating on the area directly in and around Moscow. I don't have to spell out what this could mean for us, do I."
It felt like a cold hand had reached into his chest, slowly squeezing the warmth out of his insides. "A sacrifice."
The man's eyes flashed. "Precisely. A sacrifice. Moscow is already lost-we both know it's nothing more than a sentimental reminder of the past. It's an abandoned ruin-a liability without value."
"The lives of thousands of people are without value to you?"
"My dear Commander, surely you are familiar with Moscow's demography. These people have no value-no money, no land, they aren't even fighters. Those that had any value have long since left. Why should we risk our resources and exhaust our limited capabilities for people who have nothing to contribute to our cause? At least this way, they will be able to do everyone else a service."
The icy claws dug deeper. "Have you forgotten the oath you swore, Colonel? The oath that comes with the uniform you wear? To protect life at all costs!"
"Spare me the sentimentalities, Commander. Do you think I'm happy to be writing off those lives? Do you think this decision was easy for me? Well, I'm not, and it wasn't. But compassion isn't what drives this army; it's money, and it's strength. I can't believe Undersn would neglect to teach his star pupil that it's impossible to win a war without sacrifices."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, a trace of pity entering his harsh gaze, "Try to survive as long as I did, and you'll see that pointless idealism won't win you this war."
Ky stared. "…You're afraid."
"What?"
"You are afraid. You're willing to sacrifice innocent people because you fear you won't live to see the end of it. If you think I will condone this, you're sorely mistaken."
The softness vanished from the colonel's face as quickly as it had appeared, his creases deepening like trenches. "Don't tell me Undersn's spending all his time filling the next generation with hot air. At this rate, we'll all be seeing the end of it, at the point of a Gear's jaws! And for once, the brass are well aware of it."
He crossed the room to his desk, swiping a sheet of paper from a stack and thrusting it out to Ky. "This wasn't my decision alone. My proposal is backed by the Order Subcommittee-something neither you nor Undersn can influence."
The Subcommittee was a mishmash board of politicians and influential investors mainly in charge of approving requests for specialized equipment and distributing funds for weapons research, notorious for protecting their own interests first and thinking of others later. Most of the members had no battle experience, and were, for the most part, completely out of touch with the reality of the frontlines, their continuous refusal to think practical giving rise to the bitter joke amongst soldiers, "If you want something done, don't let the Subcommittee know."
As he skimmed the letter, Ky could no longer keep control of his expression, his eyes widening at the decision spelt out in tiny, tight print, clean and utterly merciless.
Gear gas.
The name meant something to every soldier; a highly dangerous chemical that killed in a breath by corroding the respiratory system. It had been developed in the early days of the Order, when creating effective weapons had been the top priority. Unfortunately, what was deadly to a Gear was ten times as deadly to a human-the gas eating through whatever protective masks the soldiers had been wearing, and killing every last one. Uncontrollable and unpredictable, it was a last resort, a kind of scorched earth tactic, and everyone in the military was hoping to never be desperate enough to use it.
"As you can see," Colonel Gorsky was saying, "the decision was a majority vote. They're going to send a sufficient quantity for a large-scale bombardment of Moscow. The Gears will be busy until it arrives… they always are, as long as there's something to keep them occupied. This strike will take out almost ninety percent of the attacking force. We can easily deal with the rest."
"So first you leave these people to be crushed by the Gears… and then you will finish the job when they have served their purpose. My God. You've become more monstrous than the monsters."
"This will save our strength for future battles, when we won't be so lucky. Think about it, Commander. Ninety percent."
"I won't let you do this, Colonel. None of you." Ky turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going? This is an official order!"
Casting a glance back over his shoulder at the colonel's distorted face, Ky couldn't help the feeling that he wasn't looking at a man at all anymore, just an accumulation of wrath and fear, an infectious disease left to run free to spread to others. "My orders concern themselves with the extermination of the enemy forces, not with the murder of innocents. If you have any concerns, I'm sure the Subcommittee will be happy to listen."
"You-"
"Good day, Colonel."
The door fell shut behind him.
-TBC-
----
A/N: I really liked writing the exchange between Ky and the Russian commander. I wanted him to have his reasons for making that brutal decision, so I hope it was, in some twisted and horrible way, understandable. C&C is appreciated.
Notes for the bored:
- Do not ask me about the distribution of ranks. I ran around on Wikipedia, trying to make sense of the different ranking systems for navy, air force and land forces, and the differences between America, Britain, France, Germany-and just decided to make something up. Less confusing. Ky's 'commander' status would actually be an abbreviation for something like 'supreme commander candidate' or whatever, since that whole archangel thingamajig... just sounds incredibly strange and overblown.
- Yes, that passkey date is the day they first met. XD
- I'm pretty sure there is this split (as there always is) between the Order as a military system and the Order as a political/economic body. And there would be a lot of conflicts of interest.
- Likewise, I'm pretty sure weapons development came up with some pretty horrific ideas over the course of 100+ years, but most of these ideas would kill everything in reach.
<< Return to Part II? | Continue to Part IV? >>
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Fandom: Guilty Gear
Part: 3/12
Characters: Sol, Ky
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: violence
Notes: In which Ky tries to fix things, and Sol gets to menace.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII
Three Degrees to the Right
Part III
"It's all a royal mess, sir," the young corporal was saying, somewhat more confident in herself now that she was sure she wouldn't be facing a firing squad.
They were following her through a maze of nearly identical corridors, all bathed in the faintly blue lights reserved for the night shift, the monotony only broken by the occasional turn. Ky was beginning to think his earlier remark about the base layout had been correct.
"We barely know what's going on, ourselves-all we know is that Moscow started requesting immediate assistance at around 21:00 yesterday, but… we haven't moved since then, sir." She bit her lip. "I… really don't mean to talk badly about anyone, sir, but… we've gotten three separate calls and the commander's dismissed all of them. He said we should stand by for orders, but…"
"But now it's four in the morning."
"Yes, sir. And Moscow's… we don't know. We've been barred from the radio center. Everything's going crazy."
Ky frowned, trying to make sense of the story.
The discovery of the entire fleet at base still felt like a bad dream, despite the fact that he had come to calculate for all kinds of things. Panic, disorganization, distrust and even plain stupidity were almost a daily routine in the field, and the higher ranks of the Order were not exempt from them by far.
Kliff had taught him that a long time ago, lessons in command interspersed with lessons of the sword. "Never expect anyone to do the good thing. Or the sane thing. Or the right thing. Just expect everyone to fight you every step of the way."
They had both known he was exaggerating, but not by much-the higher one got on the chain of command, the more muddled the priorities became, until one ended up at one of the board meetings and realized just why certain requests were never being met, just what certain people were wasting precious time with.
"Do you have any idea what could have prompted this decision from Colonel Gorsky?"
"No, sir. Lieutenant Andreyev tried to reason with him, but…"
"But what, Corporal?"
"He's been detained for insubordination, sir, because he tried to start the evacuation on his own. Anyone who supported his attempt openly has also been detained. If anything happens-"
"Sounds like someone went cheerfully nuts," Sol said, frowning so deeply his eyes were almost disappearing beneath his headband.
It wouldn't have been the first time, either. There were enough stories of soldiers snapping under the pressure, and Ky had seen it happen, had been there to watch a commanding officer simply run out onto the battlefield screaming about judgment day, never to be seen again.
"W-we haven't noticed anything, sir," the Corporal squeaked. "Colonel Gorsky is a very intense man, but he's been a good leader, and-"
"Well, either he's gone nuts or he's had a lobotomy. There's only so many ways to get this stupid."
"That's enough," Ky said sharply. "These unprofessional assessments aren't helping anyone."
Sol mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Well, they're helping me," but he decided to let it slide. There were other matters requiring his attention right now.
He stopped, frowning. Belatedly, the soldiers noticed he wasn't following anymore, and turned to look at him questioningly. "Alright. We don't have any more time to waste. Corporal, you're coming with me. I'll get to the bottom of this. Privates?" Two salutes answered him. "You will accompany Sir Badguy to the holding cells."
"Sir!"
"Just so we're clear," he said, giving Sol a piercing look. "I don't want any broken bones or fires in the basement."
A smirk. "Can't promise anything if they go out of their way to make my job difficult."
"If I catch wind of anything untoward, I will hold you responsible."
It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Sol could be sufficiently menacing to a simple guard through his sheer presence. Reaching underneath his coat, Ky tugged the chain of dog-tags free, counting them out and removing one with a green rim. "This should be sufficient to release them. Pass code is 3 April 2172."
His eyebrows rising, Sol accepted the key tag. "Never took you for a romantic."
"It's fitting, considering how many times you should've been arrested since we met."
"And I'm sure you've kept track of every single one for me."
"Of course. Corporal, if you would…"
With that, he turned away, following the girl's lead down the corridor, and pretending he couldn't hear the other man's amused snort.
----
"Colonel Gorsky, sir?"
The desk seemed almost too small for the tall, broad-shouldered man hunched over its surface, absorbed in his paperwork. He didn't even look up at his visitors, his pen moving swiftly across the forms as if he hadn't heard at all. The corporal was barely resisting the urge to fidget, clearly wishing to be anywhere but here.
"Sir…?"
The pen stopped moving. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't wish to be disturbed."
The girl straightened. "There's someone here to see you, sir."
Finally, the colonel lifted his head, revealing a wizened face, piercing dark eyes sizing up his guest and the soldier to blame for bringing him here, before turning away again. The pen resumed its movements.
"I'm not sure what makes a new arrival think himself important enough to come see me personally, but I would have thought you'd know better than to encourage such an idea, Corporal."
The girl's eyes grew round. "Sir, that's-"
"Thank you, Corporal," Ky said. "I will take over from here. Please deliver a message to Sir Badguy for me-tell him to make the necessary preparations and then to meet me here. He'll know what I mean."
The pen dropped with an audible thump. "Hold it right there. Just who do you think you are?"
The girl froze like a rabbit, looking back and forth between them.
"Just go, Corporal," Ky murmured gently. "I'll sort out this matter. You're not to blame."
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, so she just nodded and hastily backed out of the room, the door falling shut to the noise of her footsteps fading into a run. Slowly, Ky turned back to face the colonel, whose expression was wavering between anger and incredulity.
"Colonel Gorsky, I've come here expecting to join arms in a fight that concerns all of us, and find myself being treated with utmost negligence. Since you seem to be having trouble discerning my position, I will introduce myself-I'm Commander Kiske, sent here on direct orders from Headquarters to coordinate and supervise any operations concerning the current situation."
Dark eyes widened for a second, before the colonel glared again. "So you're Undersn's wunderkind?"
He rose, coming around from behind the desk to regard Ky again, planting himself in front of him as if dealing with a nosy cadet.
The Order's policy of handing out rank according to ability rather than age was a nice idea on paper, but it had very little effect in practice-many people, even experienced soldiers, had their own notions of what constituted a leader. Even if Kliff hadn't spent so much time preparing him for his position, hadn't made sure to impart to him exactly what people would think of his age or his height or his skill, the pointless alpha male behavior had stopped meaning anything a long time ago. Now it was just another inconvenience.
Eventually, the colonel huffed, taking a step back. "I guess the right hand really doesn't know what the left hand is doing… I'm afraid your presence here is completely unnecessary. I've already taken measures to deal with the problem."
"You will have to forgive me, Colonel, if I find that hard to believe," Ky replied, smothering the anger that wanted to boil up at the casual dismissal. "I see a base of combat-ready soldiers and a hangar full of state-of-the-art ships, and I see a city in peril. The defense forces are asking for help, yet you ignore their pleas. I was willing to assume any number of reasons for this, but clearly you are fully aware of the situation. What is the meaning of this?"
"I assure you I have the Order's best interests in mind." Colonel Gorsky drew back, walking over to an area map pinned to the wall and picking up a marker, pointing out positions as if talking to a schoolboy. "We were expecting an unprecedented assault to our borders, yet ninety percent of combat activity is concentrating on the area directly in and around Moscow. I don't have to spell out what this could mean for us, do I."
It felt like a cold hand had reached into his chest, slowly squeezing the warmth out of his insides. "A sacrifice."
The man's eyes flashed. "Precisely. A sacrifice. Moscow is already lost-we both know it's nothing more than a sentimental reminder of the past. It's an abandoned ruin-a liability without value."
"The lives of thousands of people are without value to you?"
"My dear Commander, surely you are familiar with Moscow's demography. These people have no value-no money, no land, they aren't even fighters. Those that had any value have long since left. Why should we risk our resources and exhaust our limited capabilities for people who have nothing to contribute to our cause? At least this way, they will be able to do everyone else a service."
The icy claws dug deeper. "Have you forgotten the oath you swore, Colonel? The oath that comes with the uniform you wear? To protect life at all costs!"
"Spare me the sentimentalities, Commander. Do you think I'm happy to be writing off those lives? Do you think this decision was easy for me? Well, I'm not, and it wasn't. But compassion isn't what drives this army; it's money, and it's strength. I can't believe Undersn would neglect to teach his star pupil that it's impossible to win a war without sacrifices."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, a trace of pity entering his harsh gaze, "Try to survive as long as I did, and you'll see that pointless idealism won't win you this war."
Ky stared. "…You're afraid."
"What?"
"You are afraid. You're willing to sacrifice innocent people because you fear you won't live to see the end of it. If you think I will condone this, you're sorely mistaken."
The softness vanished from the colonel's face as quickly as it had appeared, his creases deepening like trenches. "Don't tell me Undersn's spending all his time filling the next generation with hot air. At this rate, we'll all be seeing the end of it, at the point of a Gear's jaws! And for once, the brass are well aware of it."
He crossed the room to his desk, swiping a sheet of paper from a stack and thrusting it out to Ky. "This wasn't my decision alone. My proposal is backed by the Order Subcommittee-something neither you nor Undersn can influence."
The Subcommittee was a mishmash board of politicians and influential investors mainly in charge of approving requests for specialized equipment and distributing funds for weapons research, notorious for protecting their own interests first and thinking of others later. Most of the members had no battle experience, and were, for the most part, completely out of touch with the reality of the frontlines, their continuous refusal to think practical giving rise to the bitter joke amongst soldiers, "If you want something done, don't let the Subcommittee know."
As he skimmed the letter, Ky could no longer keep control of his expression, his eyes widening at the decision spelt out in tiny, tight print, clean and utterly merciless.
Gear gas.
The name meant something to every soldier; a highly dangerous chemical that killed in a breath by corroding the respiratory system. It had been developed in the early days of the Order, when creating effective weapons had been the top priority. Unfortunately, what was deadly to a Gear was ten times as deadly to a human-the gas eating through whatever protective masks the soldiers had been wearing, and killing every last one. Uncontrollable and unpredictable, it was a last resort, a kind of scorched earth tactic, and everyone in the military was hoping to never be desperate enough to use it.
"As you can see," Colonel Gorsky was saying, "the decision was a majority vote. They're going to send a sufficient quantity for a large-scale bombardment of Moscow. The Gears will be busy until it arrives… they always are, as long as there's something to keep them occupied. This strike will take out almost ninety percent of the attacking force. We can easily deal with the rest."
"So first you leave these people to be crushed by the Gears… and then you will finish the job when they have served their purpose. My God. You've become more monstrous than the monsters."
"This will save our strength for future battles, when we won't be so lucky. Think about it, Commander. Ninety percent."
"I won't let you do this, Colonel. None of you." Ky turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going? This is an official order!"
Casting a glance back over his shoulder at the colonel's distorted face, Ky couldn't help the feeling that he wasn't looking at a man at all anymore, just an accumulation of wrath and fear, an infectious disease left to run free to spread to others. "My orders concern themselves with the extermination of the enemy forces, not with the murder of innocents. If you have any concerns, I'm sure the Subcommittee will be happy to listen."
"You-"
"Good day, Colonel."
The door fell shut behind him.
-TBC-
----
A/N: I really liked writing the exchange between Ky and the Russian commander. I wanted him to have his reasons for making that brutal decision, so I hope it was, in some twisted and horrible way, understandable. C&C is appreciated.
Notes for the bored:
- Do not ask me about the distribution of ranks. I ran around on Wikipedia, trying to make sense of the different ranking systems for navy, air force and land forces, and the differences between America, Britain, France, Germany-and just decided to make something up. Less confusing. Ky's 'commander' status would actually be an abbreviation for something like 'supreme commander candidate' or whatever, since that whole archangel thingamajig... just sounds incredibly strange and overblown.
- Yes, that passkey date is the day they first met. XD
- I'm pretty sure there is this split (as there always is) between the Order as a military system and the Order as a political/economic body. And there would be a lot of conflicts of interest.
- Likewise, I'm pretty sure weapons development came up with some pretty horrific ideas over the course of 100+ years, but most of these ideas would kill everything in reach.
<< Return to Part II? | Continue to Part IV? >>
<< Return to Guilty Gear Index | Return to Fanfiction Index >>