Chapter 35 - [Wojtek Sikorski]

Fishing through the pockets of my stolen Federation uniform, I found the identity of the original owner: Warrant Officer Wojtek Sikorski. I groaned internally. I just had to steal the uniform of a Polish guy. Still, I could probably pronounce "Sikorski" without difficulty as long as nobody made me pronounce the first name (I learned later that it was pronounced "Voyteck," but I did not know that at the time).

We passed by several frantic Federation soldiers as we floated toward the medical bay, and they only gave us cursory glances as I rested my hand against the grip of the revolver hidden in my jacket. They didn't recognize me at a distance, but their eyes stayed on Aiko's Zeon flight suit for a long time.

"Make way," I said, forcefully dropping the timbre of my voice from a baritone to a bass. "We're taking the prisoner to the med-bay."

"Do you need any help?" one of the soldiers, a young man who probably wasn't old enough to drink yet, asked.

"Two men is enough to keep watch on one maimed woman, don't you think?" I asked in response.

"Yes, sir!" one of the men said as the group continued floating ahead. I didn't actually know if Wojtek Sikorski outranked those men, but I spoke with enough authority that they assumed I was a superior officer.

Once the hallway was empty of other Federation soldiers, Sven looked over at me and said, "What's the plan here, uh…?

"Officer Sikorski," I said, finishing his sentence.

"Right, uh, Sikorski. What's your plan? What did you mean when you said you were going to save everyone aboard the Cyprus?"

"I think you have an inkling of what I'm going to do, Sven," I said. "There's a reason why you haven't tried to run yet. You know that my plan is to convince the Cyprus to surrender to Zeon, and you know that surrender is the only way that any of us live to see tomorrow. Am I wrong?"

"You're right, I guess? I wouldn't have put it in exactly that way, but yeah. It's more like I thought you were the only person on the ship who knew what he was doing, so I decided to follow you," Sven said.

"Follow an officer of Zeon? That kind of talk will get you court martialed," I said.

"Who cares about that stuff now?" Sven muttered. "We're all going to die. Not just us on the Cyprus, but every human in existence."

"That's a bit dramatic," I said.

"Is it?" Sven asked rhetorically, and I could hear the start of a mental breakdown in his voice. "Haven't you heard the current casualty figures?"

"I've been busy," I said. It was true. You couldn't exactly read or watch the news when you were aboard a Zeon battleship.

"It's been predicted that more than three billion people have died already, and that's on the low end!" Sven shouted.

Three billion already? Jesus! I knew that about half of all people died in the One Year War, but I didn't know that the death count reached such a high number so quickly.

"Okay, okay, calm down," I said, watching over my shoulders for any Federation soldiers in earshot. "Listen, I have it on good authority that things will calm down once both sides hash out some rules of engagement. Once colony drops, intentional colony breaches, nukes, and G3 Gas are banned, we'll take a step back from the ledge."

"Maybe you're right. Hold on, why do YOU even care?"

"Focus, Sven," I said with as much authority as I could muster. "Save your own life today. You can worry about the fate of humanity tomorrow." I cocked the hammer of my revolver as I spoke, giving my short speech the unmistakable cadence of a threat.

"Right… you're right," Sven muttered.

We reached the medical bay, and it was immediately clear that it was at capacity. Every gurney was filled with injured or dying men, and the medical personnel present were busy treating the patients.

As we entered the med-bay, I took stock of the tactical reality of my situation. Every Zeon pilot was given a service revolver with six loaded 11mm bullets and six backup rounds in an attached case. The service revolver was not for pitched gunfights. A downed pilot was supposed to use it to get out of a bad situation and fall back to a better position. Basically, I would need to use the revolver to acquire a better weapon.

"This woman has lost an arm," I said loud enough for a few nearby medics to hear. "We need someone to treat her."

Before a doctor or nurse could respond, one of the nearby patients reacted. He was covered in burns, and one of his legs had been amputated. The burned man noticed Aiko's flight suit and said, "This woman is a Zeon pilot! She'll kill us if we don't kill her first!"

The injured man reached for something concealed in his boot, and I punched him in the face with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary. Two of the man's molars ejected into the air as a small pistol flew out of his boot.

One man floating off to the side of the medical bay pointed a shotgun in my direction and shouted, "Freeze!"

I put my hands up and spoke with a calm neutrality that I certainly didn't feel. "He had a gun. I assume it isn't our policy to shoot patients?"

The guard lowered his shotgun to high-ready as he saw the burned man's pistol fly lazily through the air. He began approaching me, saying, "Fine, but I still need to take you to the brig for fighting in the med-bay. The rules are the rules."

"Whatever you say," I said, smiling and putting my hands out in a gesture of nonviolence.

As the guard continued to approach me, I scanned the med-bay once more. There were only two entrances - one for patients and one for staff - and the guard approaching me was the only visibly armed person in the med-bay.

The guard reached me, and he grabbed my shoulder roughly in preparation to drag me to the brig. With a smile still on my face, I used one hand to hold his shotgun in place while I used the other hand to grab my revolver and unload a round into the guard's brain.