Disclaimer: Escaflowne doesn't belong me, I make no money and I have no job.  Sue me, and you can have my fortune of 3 bucks and 34 cents.  Devout Chesta fans may want to only scan, but don't worry, it gets good.  For Chesta, I mean.

Streaks of metal struck and flashed against each other in hangar of the Crusade, where an incredible sword fight was in progress, and had been for some time.  Both opponents were near exhaustion, movements slowed.  But neither showed any sign of giving up.  

The albino swung his sword sharply aimed at the midsection after parrying his opponent's thrust.  Van managed to dodge swing, a bit of his shirt caught and torn in the process.  Dilandau momentum, unfortunately, carried him past the target, leaving his side and back exposed and vulnerable. 

Dilandau closed his eyes briefly in anticipation of the blow, which came from the side; solid, warm, and dull?  The impact threw him a couple feet across the floor, where lay in a heap.

Rolling around, his eyes widened unbelievably, while his pupils dilated sharply in contrast.  There was Fanel, face red and sweaty from the exertion, looking slightly surprised.  His sword gleamed perpendicularly in front of him, largely embedded just below the ribcage of…  Dilandau scrambled quickly to his feet, eyes glued to the person who had actually sacrificed his life…for his own.  'Chesta.  Chesta?!'  Dilandau gaped into the marine orbs.  'Why?' 

Chesta only mouthed, "Run". 

Dilandau backpedaled a few steps, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene.  Then he turned and raced as fast as his body and armor would allow him.  Whether he was running from the fear of dying, Van Fanel, or the images in his head, he could not say.

Throughout the ordeal, he failed to notice a small object dropped under his collar, which was now bouncing around inside his shirt, just above his belt.

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The attack plan had been simple.  Zaibach intelligence had discovered the location of the Crusade in the forests that separated Austuria from Freid.  The Dragonslayers would attack with invisibility cloaks half an hour before dawn, stun the enemy, and retrieve the dragon and the Mystic Moon Girl if possible.  Most of the crew had been asleep and the first part had gone well. 

But before the second part could be enacted, some of the guymelefs began malfunctioning to different degrees.  At first it was only the stealth cloaks, then the entire mechanism refused to respond to varying degrees.  For most it was only the stealth cloaks, like Chesta's and Guimel's.  For others, like Migel, Dalet, and Biore's would all freeze in place for a few minutes, then start up again.  Dilandau's had been affected the worst, it had shut down completely.

Which was how he had come to be hunting the dragon without his Alesaides and flamethrower, prowling through the corridors of the Crusade on foot.  Why exactly Chesta had chosen to get out of his guymelef was unknown, since his vehicle was still functioning perfectly, minus invisibility cloak.  Dilandau knew this first-hand; he was using the same guymelef to retreat with the rest of his troops.  Dalet and Biore were hitchhiking rides with others; Migel's was operating again. They had taken the news of Chesta's departure rather calmly. 

"Heads are going to damn well roll for this!  This is treason dammit!  Whoever, no, whatever, is supposed to be taking care of these damned buckets of crap is going to regret their pathetic existence.  They just jeopardized the mission and Zaibach's finest.  Me!  Who the hell do they think they are?  I could have died out there for some flunky punks' incompetence.  And so could have some of my Dra…" Dilandau cut off his tirade sharply, much to relief of the remaining Dragonslayers.  While they shared his anger, he tended to spread his around the ranks. 

In the borrowed guymelef, Dilandau's expression shifted quickly from moody and dark, to a smile.  'We're even though.  Left you a lovely present.'

TBC

Constructive criticisms worshipped and adored, comments welcomed, and flames sacrificed to my muse.