By M. Weber for Zoids: Chaotic Century

Lieutenant Karl L. Schubaltz was not safely in his seat in the cockpit of his standard-issue Red Horn, but he would have been thrown from his zoid completely if he hadn't been wearing the safety belts. Now, the buckle that held the belts together was jammed, and the straps strained against Schubaltz's weight as he hung there, unconscious, head hanging limply in space.

Dimly, he heard shouts in the distance. Muddled, panicked voices. Someone was pounding his fist on the outside of the cockpit. "It's stuck shut! Get me a prybar!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Rob?"

"There's someone inside, sir!"

"Do that in a minute. I need you to –"

"With all due respect sir, I'm going to have to ignore your order."

"Dammit, Rob!"

"Yes, sir!"

Schubaltz felt the impertinent soldier, Rob, strike the hatch until it sprang open. The Red Horn was halfway off a cliff hanging over the Red River. Lieutenant Schubaltz's torso was parallel to the ground, and as he lifted his head up, he could see through blurry eyes a rebel by his side, extracting a switchblade from his pocket.

"Don't get any closer," Schubaltz said weakly.

"I'm trying to help you," Rob replied loudly, not looking Schubaltz in the face. Rob started to cut the safety belts and get Schubaltz loose. Schubaltz started to struggle:

"Leave me alone – I don't need your help – Let go of me –"

You don't know what you're saying!" Rob protested. "You've lost a lot of blood, and this zoid is going into the Red River!"

"Then let it – I would rather go down in glory –" he begged.

"Never mind glory at a time like this!" Rob answered, as the first of five straps severed. Schubaltz jerked forward and unconsciously latched onto Rob's shoulder. "Just hang on to me. Don't worry: I'll get you out of here."

Schubaltz closed his eyes and held his breath, trying to keep from vomiting all over everything. The world was spinning, and the shouts in the distance grew louder. He was on the dry, rocky ground on the high bank of the Red River, watching his loyal Red Horn topple in.

He reached out for it, to grab its leg and stop it from falling, but arms wrapped around his shoulders and chest and dragged him back. "It's alright. Your zoid's dead already. It can't get hurt anymore."

Rob was very tall and broad in the shoulders, with blue eyes and a blond buzz-cut. He was a lieutenant, too. But, for some reason, the Republican blues and reds didn't make Schubaltz feel afraid.

And in the evening light, there was ground and sky and the twin moons sat indifferently above.

"Rob, you know I'm going to have to give you detention when we get home, right?"

"Yes sir, Major Krueger. I'm ready to accept the consequences of my actions."

Krueger smiled in spite of himself as he sipped his coffee, sitting leisurely at the heart of his camp. "Your mom's not going to be happy about this, Rob."

"She'll understand," Hermann replied. "I just know I did the right thing."

"'Never mind glory at a time like this!'" Krueger quoted. "Wherever did that come from?

"The Imperial was going on about how he'd rather go into the Red River than be rescued by one of us." Hermann said.

"They're all alike," Krueger remarked, taking another quaff of coffee. "They all think they're better than us just because they established their nation first. Well, there's no righteousness in their cause to annex the Republic. We're just fighting to keep what we've already got, and that's why we're going to win."

"I sure hope so, sir," Hermann said.

He was about to go to the medical tent they had set up when Krueger called back to him: "Rob, be careful. The other men aren't as open-minded as you. That Imperial could be more trouble than he's worth, especially if you want to get him to New Helic City alive, hear?"

"Yes, sir," Hermann replied.

On the way to the medical tent, Sergeant O'Connell approached Hermann. "Sir," he asked, "what's going on? We heard that we've taken a prisoner –"

"We have, O'Connell. You heard right."

"Who is the guy?"

"We haven't checked yet. He took a conk on the head pretty bad, so the medics actually just got him stable. But we know he's a lieutenant, if that means anything special."

"What're you going to do with him?"

"We'll take him to New Helic City and put him in the prison system, probably," Hermann replied. He gave O'Connell the stink eye. "Any other questions, sergeant?"

O'Connell saluted hastily. "No, sir!"

"Then make like a tree and get outta here," Hermann ordered. O'Connell went back to his clique and started to spread the gossip.

Schubaltz was blissfully asleep, sweating evenly in the summer heat. It was odd to see the typical Imperial gray among smatterings of red and blue of uniforms hung up for the night, but Hermann didn't mind. If anything, he thought, it was a mini-lesson in humanism: Under the uniforms, every zoid pilot was the same human flesh, blood, and bones. Science had proved it a thousand years ago. The war didn't change that.

Hermann sat down at the end of Schubaltz's camp-cot and waited.

"I'm sorry I rebuked you." Hermann jerked awake – he had been sleeping with his head on his knees in the medical tent. He blinked shortly and looked over to his quarry. The Imperial was awake.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said: I'm sorry I rebuked you," Schubaltz answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you saved my life," Schubaltz said, straining to speak audibly. "I didn't really know what was going on, and I didn't appreciate how the situation had changed since I had been shot down."

"I didn't rescue you just so we could put you in jail later. I rescued you because you were in some deep trouble," Hermann said.

"It's not like I wanted to die, it's just that I was afraid. And I was thinking of my father," Schubaltz added, absently. "He wouldn't have wanted me to act in cowardice. He says that he'll be proud of me no matter what I do, but sometimes all that keeps me fighting is the thought that I'm carrying on his legacy and keeping the family name honorable."

"Your dad was in the military?" Hermann asked.

"Yeah," Schubaltz replied. "His opinion means everything to me. I'm gonna make him proud. I'll show him that I'm a good soldier!"

"I know that feeling. My mom works for the government, so I get to fight for her and keep the family honor strong, too."

"Right," Schubaltz affirmed, closing his eyes to rest again.

Krueger stepped into the tent shortly thereafter, holding a slip of paper tightly in his hand. "Rob, you're not going to believe this!" he exclaimed.

"Good news? Bad news?" Hermann asked, getting up off the camp-cot.

"I don't know yet, but it's news alright. We just figured out who our mystery POW is. I got his tags and phoned Intelligence in New Helic City. They got info on him in less than a minute."

"Well…?"

"This," Krueger said, indicating Schubaltz, "is Karl Lichen Schubaltz of the Gylos Empire, son of the retired Colonel Emmett Schubaltz, son of the late Major General Henrik Schubaltz, and it goes on like that for generations…all the way back to colonization over five hundred years ago."

"You mean he's one of the Schubaltzes?" Hermann yelped. "The Schubaltzes are the third most important family in Gygalos, second only to the Emperor's and Prime Minister's!"

"He's Emmett Schubaltz's oldest son," Krueger added. "And the Schubaltzes are richer than Mme. President." There was a maniacal twinkle in Krueger's eye. The old man had a maverick idea. "Rob, how much do you think old man Schubaltz will pay to see his son home safely?"

Hermann actually took a step backwards. "Sir!" he exclaimed. "Such plots are for thieves and bandits! You want to get the army mixed up in this?"

"Think, Rob!" Krueger replied. "How much to you think they'll pay to see him home? A million dollars? Two million? Imperial dollars, Rob! The kid's a fortune waiting to happen!"

"I'm still not sure about this…" Hermann answered, and he couldn't help remembering the blank-faced, stern Schubaltz patriarch that the lieutenant had mentioned earlier. "Do you really think the dad will pay? You don't know military parents like I do."

"We just have to send them a 'convincing' video is all," Krueger said, shrugging. "It's all arranged. Old Schubaltz'll just have to cough up when he sees his son in the hands of the enemy."

"You're forgetting that Schubaltz is a military man, sir," Hermann said. "I know from experience that a good soldier treats all his subordinates the same – whether they're despicable scum or his own sons. And his father's a colonel. He didn't get that rank by going easy on his favorite men."

"But he's retired now, Rob. Retirement makes a man soft. And he's a father now, too. Surely that changes things?"

"I don't know," Hermann said.

"His opinion means everything to me. I'm gonna make him proud. I'll show him that I'm a good soldier!"

"Well, I'm having communications patch me through. I want you to meet me in my tent in five minutes, and bring lieutenant Schubaltz with you."

"Sir! This isn't going to work –!"

"That's an order, Hermann. And you'd do best to obey it. You've mouthed off enough for one day, eh?"

"– outrage! These demands are completely heinous! I will be calling Mme. President in person and will tell her about this – this piracy!"

"Please, colonel, be reasonable. All we're asking is a small fee to make sure that nothing happens to Karl here on his way home." Lieutenant Schubaltz vaguely felt a blade at his throat.

"You FIENDS!" Colonel Schubaltz roared. Karl opened his eyes a crack, and saw his father's head and shoulders projected on the tent wall in front of him. Colonel Schubaltz was red in the face and flustered, as he shouted at Krueger. Karl saw Rob standing at attention by his side – he was on his knees on the ground – and covering him with a machine gun. But Hermann was not enjoying himself. And the negotiations were not going well.

"We're the fiends, colonel? We're the barbarians? You were the ones to declare total war on a nation of peaceful people, you were the ones to deny us our freedoms –"

"Father?" Everyone fell silent and looked at lieutenant Schubaltz. "Father, what's going on?"

Colonel Schubaltz looked at his son with pain in his aged face. "You're a hostage, lieutenant. You've been captured by the Rebel scum and they're using you as a hostage…"

"Rob?" Karl asked, turning to Hermann. "Why would you do this?"

Hermann swallowed and then said, with a completely straight face, "This is war, Schubaltz. We need the money, and you just happen to be the richest son o' bitch on this side of the continent."

Krueger, still holding the switchblade to Karl's throat, positioned it more insistently, right over the carotid artery. Karl could feel his own pulse under the metal.

"Colonel," Krueger said, "we haven't got all day. We'd like the five million Imperial dollars for your son. Have we got a deal?"

"Colonel Schubaltz," Karl said loudly, "I urge you to do what's best for our country, sir!"

"Shut up!" Krueger shouted, grabbing a fistful of Lieutenant Schubalt'z hair and yanking his head back. "We're waiting, colonel!"

It was a moment before anyone spoke, and Lieutenant Schubaltz didn't see his father's face as the old man responded, but the colonel said, "You're a good soldier, Karl. Your mom and Thomas and I love you so much," before he hung up on Krueger.

"DAMN IT!"

Krueger disallowed the medics from seeing Lieutenant Schubaltz after the poor negotiations with Emmett Schubaltz. He was placed under the caffeinated eyes of O'Connell and his usual crowd through the night, sleeping in their tent, always with one Republican awake and armed, keeping guard.

Hermann was in a slump. O'Connell had taken the last of the java, and Hermann couldn't stay awake without it. He sat alone in the mess tent, nonetheless, staring at the canvas walls, his chin in his hands, eyes half-open and far from focused.

He felt like a radio out of tune, just broadcasting white noise and static fuzz. And there was this awkward feeling going on in his head: There was something he wanted to do, but there was something stopping him from doing it… And damn it, that thing he had to do was important…

"You might want to get some sleep, Rob," came Krueger's voice from the entrance of the mess tent.

Hermann straightened up but did not acknowledge Krueger. He wasn't speaking to the major.

"Seriously. I know you're a night owl and all, but we're breaking camp and dawn and moving to Dragonhead." Hermann stayed quiet. "Oh, I get it. You're angry at me for the whole ransom demand issue."

Hermann's silence betrayed just how accurate Krueger was.

"Listen, Rob, I know that from our point of view, we're all just guys trying to survive out here. But you gotta look at the big picture. Imagine that we're pieces on a gameboard, and –"

"You've given me this lecture a zillion times, sir," Hermann said, exasperatedly, slumping back on the table. "'The pieces cannot know the ultimate goal of their master, so the only hope for victory is unconditional obedience…' I know. Man, I know. But one of the pieces suddenly got the idea that the game he's playing is fubar."

"Rob," Krueger said, sitting down beside his lieutenant, "I know how you must feel. You're a fiercely loyal soldier, so you're not eager to do any more for the Imperial because you know he's your enemy; but you saved the kid's life. You feel responsible for what's going to happen to him next."

"I don't trust O'Connell," Hermann said. "He's a ruthless Republican. He's almost an extremist, the way he fights…"

"Well, I don't entirely trust O'Connell either. But if you want, you could kip with the rest of them tonight. Just in case."

"I might," Hermann replied, getting up from the table and making his way to the exit.

Lieutenant Schubaltz was in a hazy, irregular state of sleep, leaned up against one of the poles that kept O'Connell's tent up. O'Connell himself was on watch at that hour, sitting on his campcot with a rifle on his lap.

He jumped as Hermann entered quietly, and breathed, "God, Hermann! What the hell are you up to?"

"Just checking on everyone," Hermann said briefly. "I think I'll crash here tonight."

"Officer's tent lost its appeal?" O'Connell inquired.

"Yeah, something like that," Hermann replied. He caught sight of Schubaltz, who had stirred and woken up at all the noise. "How're ya?" He asked.

"My head…" Schubaltz murmured. "…Rob?"

"Yeah, it's me," Hermann answered, kneeling down to Schubaltz's eye level. "So, besides your head, are you okay?"

"What happened? My dad…"

"He's not coming," O'Connell said firmly. "You're stuck here, just like the rest of us. How does it feel, being dependent on the very people you're trying to destroy?"

"Shut up," Hermann snapped. "Get the hell to bed, sergeant."

"Yessir," O'Connell responded, as he grudgingly put the rifle away and hurled himself onto his camp-cot. His snores filled the tent almost immediately.

Schubaltz could only keep his eyes oh-so-slightly open, and his head drooped onto his chest as Hermann spoke:

"You brought this upon yourself, you know."

"I know."

"You didn't have to be all…heroic."

"I know."

"You could have been on your way home by now."

"I know."

"Then, why did you do it?"

"I did what was right for my country," Schubaltz said. "I…couldn't fund…the opposition –"

"Is that all we are? The 'opposition?'"

"I don't care if the Empire wins this war or not. Either the Republic will fall or it won't. It's of no concern to me. No matter what happens, I'll go home at the end of this and see my family…"

"But if you just wanted to go home, then why –?"

"Because I needed to do the right thing. I'm fighting for my family, and for the honor of Emperor Rudolf Gerhardt Zeppelin II.

"What are you fighting for, Rob?"

The Madame President, the executive arm of the New Helic Republic's government, stood on her balcony in the first family's house in New Helic City. The twin crescent moons bathed her in silver light, making her skin and hair look white, and highlighting her prominent wrinkles. She drew her shawl closer about her shoulders.

She took a small picture out of her pocket. Her dear, late husband had his arm around her, and their child son, Robby, was hanging off his father's arm. Rob was so like his father…the same broad shoulders, strong chin, and unapologetic blond hair.

Refugees puttered around the city, looking for spare rooms they might rent or supplies they could barter for. Lights were on late; the native families stayed up to provide for the sick and elderly, the struggling mothers, and the exhausted. Robby was out there, somewhere, beyond the distance, keeping the city safe.

"M-mom?" Another, artificial light came streaming out onto the balcony from the Mme. President's office, along with a familiar voice. She stepped lightly behind her desk and sat to greet her son.

"What is it, Lieutenant Hermann?"

Hermann looked distraught, overtired, and worried. "Mom? Have you heard about what's happening here at camp?

"No, but I did hear you won the battle. Congratulations, Rob."

"Yeah, we won, but Emmett Schubaltz might have wanted a word with you –"

"Why on Zi would Emmett call me at a time like this?" the Mme. exclaimed. "I mean, we chatted a few years back when the fighting wasn't so intense…but isn't his son in the military?"

"He is. We took him prisoner today after I saved his life."

"Sweet Zi…" Mme. President breathed.

"I don't know what to do, mom. Krueger said it would only be natural to feel responsible for him since it's thanks to me that he's even alive. I – I don't know why, but I'm more certain now than I was, now that I've had a coffee, but – I feel like something's wrong. Like he shouldn't be a prisoner, somehow…like there's a sense of injustice about this… Is there anything you can do? Can you call Colonel Schubaltz and tell him that Karl's okay or something?"

"What do you want me to do, Rob?"

"Apologize for Krueger's pig-headedness! Karl's a hero! He doesn't want to fight this war anymore. He's hurt and tired, and I feel like I should do something. I know something bad is gonna happen. Mom, what should I do?"

"Trust our legal system to see him through."

"But he'll go to prison if he ever gets to New Helic City. That's not right, mom. Good men shouldn't die. The legal system's a crock! What about all that stuff in our constitution about 'freeing the oppressed' and asserting our beliefs about the rights of good people? Wouldn't denying anyone that right be heresy?"

"I know you're having a tough time with this. But I urge you to do what's best for our country, lieutenant," she said.

"What if what I'm thinking of doing is illegal?"

"Then, maybe it's not the best."

Hermann was quiet for a moment, but smiled slightly, said, "Love you, mom," and hung up.

O'Connell had drifted off to sleep hours ago. The early, early morning, before the desert dawn, was dead quiet. Even the zoids were too fast asleep to snore. Hermann snuck out of the communications tent, where they had made contact with Emmett Schubaltz only three hours previously, and crept to O'Connell's place. And that in itself wasn't easy, since Rob was so tall and ungainly.

Hermann held his breath as he entered the tent, like that would help silence his steps, and tiptoed as carefully as humanly possible to where Lieutenant Schubaltz was sitting. He put a hand over Schubaltz's mouth and shook his shoulder. His eyes flew open and focused on Hermann. Herman held a finger to his lips: Stay quiet. He beckoned forward as he moved out of the tent: Follow me.

Schubaltz stood up shakily, grabbing the tent poles for support, and followed Hermann outside, and then past the perimeter of camp, and to where the zoids were sleeping, about a hundred yards from everything else. Hermann led him to a jeep, full of foodstuffs, water, and a transistor radio.

"Well, get in," Hermann said quietly. "Hurry up. Sunrise is any minute, and you've gotta put some distance us and you..."

"What the hell are you doing?" Schubaltz asked. His expression was merely curious, and not pretentious or cold.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Hermann replied. "I'm turning you loose."

"Why in the world –?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Krueger's a die-hard patriot, and he'd eat you for breakfast if you were here when he woke up."

"You'll be put in detention! You'll see a court martial, you'll be charged of treason!" Schubaltz protested. "I don't want to be responsible for that!"

"You won't be responsible for anything!" Hermann replied. "All this is my doing. You had me sold when you said you just wanted to get back to your family. Now get in the car and get the fuck out of here."

Sounds of life started to float in from camp. A few guys were up and in the mess, making breakfast, packing stuff up…

"Go!" Hermann shouted, shoving Schubaltz in the driver's seat and starting the car. "Dragonhead is southwest of here, and if you hurry, you can get across the bridge before we get mobilized!"

Schubaltz hesitated a moment, and then held a hand out to Hermann. "Come with me!" he said. "Come on! We can get away from this together! You're not a warmonger and neither am I, and in Gygalos, we'll both be safe –"

"I can't," Hermann answered. "I gotta go home to my own mom."

Shouts rang out from near O'Connell's place.

"Get the fuck outta here!" Hermann yelled, and grabbed the stick and put the jeep in drive. Schubaltz didn't have time to protest as the jeep veered away, leaving Hermann on his butt in the dust.

Hermann trudged back to camp, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, trying to take advantage of the pandemonium to slip back in without anyone noticing. But it was no good. O'Connell found Hermann out right away. And boy, was he mad.

"You! Fucking! Let! Him! Get! Away!" he screamed, socking Hermann in the jaw with a right hook and sending him to the ground again. "What the fuck were you thinking!" he spat, all red in the face and sweating with rage. "Whose side are you on, anyway!" He lunged forward to get Hermann again, but his comrades held him back.

Krueger entered the scene, looking more severe than usual. There was a twinkle of disappointment in his eyes as he said, "You let him go, didn't you, Rob?"

Hermann didn't hesitate. "I damn well did, sir."

To the Lt. Robert Hermann of the Republic:

Well, it took me a few weeks to make it back to Gygalos, but I'm home with my mother, father, and little brother, Thomas. I can't thank you enough for giving them back to me. My hometown looks better than ever.

When I got home, the Emperor himself came to my house to visit. Imagine that! I was so embarrassed that I almost didn't show up for my own party. He awarded me more medals than I can wear at once: Injury in Battle, Valor in Battle, Courage in the Face of the Enemy, and a few other ones for random things that every soldier does every day. But the one that I'm proudest of is the one he gave me for Outstanding Loyalty to the Imperial Crown. After you called my dad, he went right to the palace to talk to Emperor Zeppelin, and he was just about to dispatch the First Armored Division when the Mme. President called and they talked it over. She convinced the Emperor that no harm would come to me, and he relented in his indignation.

And Rob, you didn't tell me that your mom was the Mme. President! That makes us rather alike. "My mom works for the government," you said. Very clever! And it's wonderful how you're modest about it, too. But I bet we feel the same way about the war. Don't we?

However, I can never understand exactly what it was that motivated you to first save my life and then set me free. I'm grateful, to be sure, but I guess I'll never really know why you did it. I'm eternally indebted to you, and I send my sympathies to you for any punishment you may have and probably did receive because of me. Your mother should be proud of such a passionate soldier.

I'll be going to officer's academy in the next month or so, and they're going to train me up and make me a captain. Thomas is a little envious, but that's only natural for him, bless him. Mother's reluctant to let me out of the house alone anymore, but father's talked her into it. And he's so proud of me that I can't describe it in words.

Enclosed are my medal for Outstanding Loyalty to the Imperial Crown and my old set of tags. It's not an insult or an attempt at irony, I promise! They might be heresy to you, but to me, they're the greatest treasure that my nation offers. And I want you to have them, since I owe it to you. My whole country owes it to you that I'm alive today. My name's engraved on the back of the medal, so if you keep it with you and ever run into more Imperials, show them who you're friends with and they ought to treat you like a colonel!

I'm quite certain that we're friends, Rob, even though we hardly know each other. If the war ends in our lifetimes, you can expect an invitation to my place within days of the ceasefire. Things will be different if we ever meet again.

Sincerely,

Lt. Karl L. Schubaltz of the Gylos Empire

1st Imperial Armored Division