The air was filled with the peculiar odor of paint and overheated wires, a stench unique to a military battleship where one would have no choice but to accept that he was in a sealed space. The liftgrip lined along the wall became a long and useless installation under gravity, and what was extended in front of Alberto’s eyes was a passage that was without any characteristic except for practical use. Alberto Vist was running down the passage, ignoring the bouncing of his loose flesh whenever his soles hit the floor and his struggling knees as he dashed down the long passage. He pushed aside the battleship crew on the passage, arrived at the T-junction where the wall stood in front of him, and saw the air lock of the mobile suit deck he was looking for.
He, who was so anxious that he was seemingly about to knock into the door panel, did not check the values of the pressure gauge as he pressed the opening switch. The wind that blew outside was proof that the air outside had moved into the mobile suit deck. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was moving in a relatively low height, but the air pressure at 500m height was still a lot lower than the air pressure maintaining the inside of the ship. Alberto arrived at a corner of the mobile suit deck that could be called a large hollow cave, followed the narrow channel along the wall, poked his body out from the handrail and looked at the bow of the ship. The shutter linked to the catapult deck was completely opened merely moments ago, and the blunt heavy sounds caused by the metals stepping on the floor rang throughout as he saw an abnormally shaped uniformly black machine pass through the shutter.
The streamlined cold-looking machine had a mask that completely covered the profile of its face. The mechanics solders saw majestic sight of the golden shining horn at the top of the “Banshee”, and stopped whatever they were doing as they gave it a look of shock. The white machine of the “Unicorn” could be seen beside the “Banshee”, but this machine that had a horn too was slumped weakly and could only stand straight with the support of the “Banshee”. The left arm equipped with the shield was slumped limply while the muzzle of the beam Gatling was almost sticking to the ground.
As seen through the monitor on the bridge, the pitch black shiny armor of the “Banshee” showed no signs of any scars as compared to the “Unicorn” that had lost all life within. Alberto basked his face in the air filled with the stench of oil, stared at the white machine that was thoroughly stained in dust, and charged towards the mobile suit hangar located at the wall. He could see Bentner and his assistants, dressed in white clothes, on the gondola beside the hangar set aside temporarily for the “Banshee”s use as they worked on the observation equipment they brought into the ship.
The “Banshee” ignored the humans looking at it as it bent down like a human and let the “Unicorn” resting on its shoulders slump onto the deck. “How’s the situation?” Alberto panted as he got onto the gondola from the gap and asked Bentner, whose bald head turned around as he arched his back, saying,
“I should say that it’s more ideal than what we expected here. The adaptability the specimen showed with regards to the “Banshee” is rather flawless, and there’re no problems with the link with the NT-D.”
Albeto looked at the Newtype Research Facility Head who was sneering away and felt a sense of unease rather than relief. The backdoor left beforehand meant that the brainwashing was incomplete, and someone sent her in discreetly. “This is a case of being easier than it is. Perhaps Madam Martha’s values managed to provide an influence here.” While Bentner continued on, Alberto reached his hand for the elevator button of the gondola, and descended 10m while Bentner and his assistants hurriedly grabbed the handrail. Once the gondola stopped, he hopped onto the deck.
The “Banshee”s massive frame was headed towards the hangar as it moved its feet that were as large as an automobile. Alberto glanced aside at the abdomen that was approximately level with the 4th storey, and at that instant, recalled the face of the “specimen” inside the cockpit, and ran towards the “Unicorn” lying slumped on the deck. The mobile suit squad that was deployed to Dakar had already returned, and the deck hangar was already half-filled with landing crafts. Alberto told himself secretly to finish his own job before the ship crew and pilots calmed down. He darted around the feet of the “Jestas” that were giving off smoke caught from the fires, and crossed the deck together with his subordinates who were starting to gather around him. “WHAT’S GOING ON!?” However, an angry roar stopped him in his tracks.
“I just got blindsided by that black “Unicorn”! Call out the pilot! Who’s the one in charge here!?”
The pilot was stopped by the subordinates in black suits, but he still turned his furious stare at Alberto, who had an impression on his face. He spotted the machine, the “Delta Plus” that was lying on its back as it was being taken in after the assault of the “Banshee”, and faked a genuine smile as he answered, “My my, isn’t that Ensign Riddhe?”
“I heard that you died in battle on the “Nahel Argama”. It’s really great to see you safe and sound.”
The pilot widened his eyes and gave a startled look back at Alberto. “You’ Anaheim’s…” Riddhe Marcenas said, “I’m Alberto Vist of the Vist Foundation.” only to be interrupted by Alberto, who looked over the shoulder of his subordinate and stared right at the blond hair that looked agitated from the battlefield.
“I have to apologize to you for the inappropriate handling of the situation. The Foundation ordered the pilot of the “Banshee” to secure the “Unicorn” as a top priority mission.”
“The “Banshee”…you’re referring to that black “Unicorn”?”
“Exactly. Currently, it’s the RX-0 with the highest completion rate, and doesn’t have the excessive item of the Laplace Program. One can say it’s a mobile suit that’s purely designed to tackle Newtypes.” Riddhe gasped and pulled his lower jaw up, showing the guilt of a similar secret they shared. He, as the real son of Ronan Marcenas, was a hawk sent from the Settlement Issues Council, and Alberto understood this as well. Don’t let him get close—Alberto commanded with this expression and ignored the stare clinging onto him as he tried to turn away. “Oi, hold it! What authority do you people have…!” An angry voice followed, but Alberto shook him off by saying “Captain Bright understands.” And quickly approached the “Unicorn”.
There were burn marks all over the white machine as it was dyed a layer of black stain. A steamy hot wind blew at Alberto’s face as the latter arrived at its feet. The mechanics equipping with firefighting equipment were on standby around the machine in case a fire broke up. “Nobody’s to get close to it! That’s our Foundation’s property!” Alberto growled and put on the gloves his subordinates handed him as his moved through the crowd. As his subordinates scattered to prevent any of the ship crew from approaching, Alberto did not find as he brought his hand to touch the still-scalding “Unicorn”.
He climbed up the ladder his subordinate prepared and used the front armor at the waist as a footing and climbed to the cockpit hatch at the abdomen. The key of the “Laplace Box” Cardeas created, this pure white machine that bore the fate of the world—was finally in front of his sights. Alberto originally intended to use the “Ra Cailum” as the base for the search, but he never thought that he would be able to get his hands on the “Unicorn” right after he met the ship. He would not allow anyone else to interfere, and intended to immediately cut up the abdomen to extract the secrets of the “Box”. He used his gloved hand to touch his face that immediately felt feverish, stood beside the cockpit cover, and whispered to his subordinate that followed up, “Do it.” The subordinate nodded, opened the access hatch, and pulled the emergency lever. The sound of hot air being exhausted could be hoard, the cover that covered the torso to the abdomen was opened, and the rectangular cockpit hatch appeared in front of Alberto’s eyes.
The cockpit was still bright as it was function. Alberto waited for his subordinates to draw their automatic pistols, checked the situation inside the cockpit, nodded, and stepped into that cramped ball-shaped space. On the linear seat surrounded by the all-view monitor, one could see a pilot in his suit, lying limp on it.
Banagher Links—he muttered the name he could not shake off in his heart ever since he arrived onto Earth, and peered at the groggy face through the helmet. The swollen face looked like it was punched before; is it because he was exposed to the tremendous G-force? Alberto shook off this suspicion that suddenly appeared in his mind and looked around at the all-view monitor which displayed the scenery on the deck. There was nothing abnormal to note of, other than a few windows that were not functional. Alberto did not know the circumstances which led to the “Unicorn” taking part in the battle of Dakar, but since the NT-D was activated, there was a very high probability that new information was revealed. He brought his hand to the linear seat, stared at the monitors that were full of static noise, and then turned to look at the display board on the seat.
Alberto saw that on the 3 display boards, the middle one was showing the “La+” logo, and his heart immediately jumped. This was the thing, the Laplace Program that lit the way to the “Box”. Since the system was on standby, he would be able to retrieve the data just by operating on it. Is it an intermediate point here? Or is it going to reveal the location of the “Box” directly? he looked behind, checked that no one was peeping into the cockpit, and reached his trembling hand for the touch panel. at that moment, the sound of the power being shut off rang, and he was surrounded by darkness.
The all-view monitor images disappeared, showing the ball-shaped monitor panels. The “LA+” signal disappeared like an illusion. Alberto desperately activated the switches of the standby power, but no matter how he tried, there was no electricity, and the touch panel’s signal did not revert to its original state. Was the generator cables burnt off? He wiped his forehead that was sweating like rain, and as he reached his hand for the monitor beside the linear seat, he saw a white object flash by his sights.
“It’s useless there.”
From below the helmet visor, the whites of Banagher’s eyes appeared in the darkness, and his swollen face was distorted with a smile. The monitor did not shut off naturally, it was switched off—Alberto felt a chill in his mind as he understood this, and stared at the boy lying limp on the linear seat. The latter’s firm stare overlapped with Cardeas’ eyes, and Alberto felt the sweat on his body cool down.
It had been more than a day, but the sky of Dakar broadcasted through the television was still a light brown. Perhaps it was new dust raised during the removal of rubble and relief aid, or perhaps it was the deaths of 40,000 who were killed without reason lingering at this place.
The wreckage of the mobile armor was surrounded by several construction machines, showing its body amidst the hastily assembled scaffolding. There were so many wounded that they were lined on the corridors, and the dire situation of the city hospitals was such that one would mistake them for guerilla hospitals. The wasteland of rubble that extended beyond the horizon, the dead and wounded that overlay on them, and the marquee messages for the missing were all roaming under a color of tea brown. Ronan Marcenas stared at the number of casualties that continued to increase in thousands, and felt a familial sense of guilt in his heart— are these the victims of the Box? As he felt this surge of emotions, he looked away from the television in his office. He turned his chair to the window where the sunset was shining in, and brought his ear to the phone receiver tucked between his shoulder and cheek again as he remarked wryly, “Everyone’s being extremely busy now. It will hurt to have suspected without proof here.”
“This incident is really completely unexpected to us. As you know, Dakar has a lot of capital invested in it. I’m just telling you over the phone that I too used the name of my company to buy Dakar company shares. What benefit does it have to me to turn the shares I have into scrap paper?”
(It can stimulate the Federation army realignment plan—I wonder how you feel if you explain it this way?)
A woman’s voice let out this immediate answer through the hotline phone directed via satellite. (This incident most definitely shows that there are threats still present on Earth. Including the space forces, this can prompt the armed forces on Earth to strengthen themselves and sweep all Zeon forces before the Republic dissembles…it will definitely bring about great economic benefit. The loss of the stocks in Dakar can be replaced easily like that, right?)
Martha Vist Carbine—the Empress of the Moon was a woman not to be underestimated. This determined and influential person was just as the economic and political world described, and at this point, she was snickering on the other end on the phone. She had just gotten onto the “Ra Cailum” which rushed off to Dakar, and she was already on the Captain’s hotline phone as she made this call to Ronan’s office, giving this deliberate taunting words. Ronan had already known that Martha came to Earth, but he had to admit that she, who dealt with the situation in Dakar faster than anyone else, who even sent in the 2nd RX-0 to the scene as a souvenir, was abnormally active in this. Ronan pulled in the “Ra Cailum” to search for the “Box” in order to prevent the Vist Foundation from interfering, but looking at the current situation, he was being apprehended.
Since Martha could interfere with the backing of the Senate Council Vice Chairman, it was likely that she had at least acquired the approval of the Senate Council chairman, or even a high ranking official approval—this possibility did exist. To these high ranking officials who would react according to the winds and cared only on their short-term benefits and self-preservation, how much impact will the incident in Dakar bring to them? How much restrain will they abandon? Ronan felt through the phone call that Martha had everything clear in mind, “In that case, you’ll be the ones benefitting from this, right?” and answered back, smearing mud on the other party’s face.
“Anaheim Electronics President’s wife…no, I should be calling you the substitute leader of the Vist Foundation now, right?”
(Just call me Martha.)
“Then, Martha, even if our main plea is to increase the military supplies, we will definitely not use the capital as a sacrifice. Unlike Lhasa three years ago, we have many casualties on the government’s side too. First, the party that triggered this incident wasn’t Neo Zeon, but Islamic radicals who preached about breaking away from the orthodox teachings.”
At this moment, the television just so happened to show the Garvey Enterprise building, and Ronan turned his sights to glance at that image. There were police cars parked right in front of the building, and the investigators carrying cardboard boxes were gathered in hordes like ants at the main entrance. The investigations included the dealings with other companies, and the initial stage of the various procedures with regards to the freezing of the Garvey Enterprises assets were most likely completed. The solar generators Garvey Enterprise had were absorbed under the Government’s control, and the operating profits would be used to rebuild Dakar and compensate the bereaved relatives of the victims. This process was most likely planned to the details by assistance teams created by related independent organizations. Fortunately, or not, the Senate Council and the surrounding official areas managed to avoid this calamity, and the Senators were slowly gathered at this capital that was off its alert phase, summoned for an emergency parliamentary meeting.
The objective of the man named Mahdi Garvey was still unconfirmed, but this one terrorist attack was not enough to cause the gears of money and power to stop. The bribery of the supervising institutes to build that mobile armor, the political contributions, and the expenses required to rebuild the capital; these was the bloodstream of the capitalist society, locked within a sealed loop. Did this man descend upon madness because of the “Box” too?He looked at Mahdi’s VTR that was being replayed again, and uttered these words in his heart before looking back outside the window again. (These radicals you say have a Neo Zeon insignia on their mobile armor. Also, there were eyewitness reports of the “Sleeves” mobile suits, right?) Martha argued back and used her voice to choke Ronan’s neck.
“There are always implications behind lawbreakers, regardless of principles or propositions. Anyway, the shock from this incident is second only to the previous “Char’s Counterattack”. The security on all the government facilities have to be increased, and all ships moving to and from Earth will be checked on without exception. Of course, including the remnants of Neo Zeon, we will carry out the thorough eradication of the terrorists. Considering he economic losses from the delay in shipments and the added adjusted budgets on both the military and public safety sides, I wonder how much more money we will have to spend here—”
(Chairman Ronan, what you said is ostensibly right, but we civilians have it tougher in terms of money. Let’s stop groveling in the dirt on each other and talk about something that will benefit both parties.)
“I hope so too, but I am someone who has to get to somewhere immediately too.”
(Then I’ll cut the chase. I heard that a certain highly esteemed visitor is currently residing in your residence, Chairman. I hope you can hand that person over to our care.)
Ronan’s heart that would not be shaken by practically anything suddenly skipped a beat, and his hand that was holding onto the receiver trembled. He had already prepared himself when he asked the military for a full time surveillance watch that ‘her’ staying in his house would soon be revealed, but he never expected the other party to stab him first. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say…” Ronan immediately answered, but Martha again took the initiative as she cut him off, (You’re the one who said that you don’t want to waste time.) and spoke with a cold tone.
(This is for that person’s safety too. The terrorists chose to attack the capital during the parliament break, and most likely, the media will think that the government’s trying to creating an act. The opposition that think that the money should be allocated to welfare instead of the army realignment plan will stand on the same frontline as the media, and the final responsibility will be pointed at the Settlement Issues Council that has been pushing for the realignment. At this point, if people find out that the princess of Zeon is hidden in the house of the Council chairman…)
The leaders of the military body moved only for body, secretly colluded with Neo Zeon, and planned a terrorist attack using Islamic militants as a cover-up to help increase the budget of the Federation army’s realignment plan—this script that could not be overturned easily immediately flashed through in Ronan’s mind, and his held himself from clicking his tongue and closed his eyes. “This is really an impeccable rhetoric you have there. One might even suspect that you’re the mastermind here!” Ronan retorted sarcastically, and Martha could not hold back her snicker (The majority of the society only believes in what they hope to believe) as she spoke with a cold tone.
(Everything is a conspiracy set by the Settlement Issues Council. I suppose this story should be an exciting fantasy the foolish public will like, right?)
“Will the secretive Foundation hiding the mysterious “Box” appear in that fantasy?”
(Let’s see. If the media is willing to let go of all advertisements related to the Foundation, with Anaheim Electronics first, they’ll definitely be able to write a more interesting fantasy.)
Did she expect everything here? Ronan realized that this opponent was not going to be easy as he gave a sigh of realization, “Speaking of the Foundation, I did hear of a rumor.” and raised a topic to revive the situation.
“The Senate is currently discussing about reevaluating the laws of societies and foundations. If this bill is passed, the audits for public welfare will be stricter, and the non-profit organizations that exist only in name will be taxed like legal entities. In other words, the idea of taking advantage of a non-taxable privilege to hoard funds for the Foundation won’t work. Amongst it, the Foundation may most likely have to disband.”
(What has this got to do with the secret organization hiding the “Box”?)
“Of course it has nothing to do with it, but the premise before that is that you must certainly have the “Box” first.”
The breath from the other end of the phone vanished, and for the first time, Martha answered back in silence. Ronan was not bluffing; he had prepared countless legal ways to force the Vist Foundation into a corner for this moment. He held his breath and waited for the other party’s response, but after several seconds, (I won’t let you lead me here.) Martha merely answered coldly.
(Please hand “her” to the Foundation. This will benefit both sides.)
“Leaving aside my side, what benefit will you get?”
(You can think about that. We’ve acquired the mobile suit that’s basically the key to the “Box”. Don’t forget that the benefits and ills of preventing the “Box” from being revealed works for both of us.)
Ronan lost the battle completely in this one. The RX-0 which contained the signals locating the “Box”, the authority over the “Ra Cailum” and all the bargaining chips on the table were in Martha’s hand. It was difficult to deal with the aftermath of the Dakar situation with the power of the Federation government alone. if he did not rely on the power of the Vist Foundation, he would end up causing the government to dissolve. (Please make a decision as quickly as possible.) Martha then spoke in a rhetoric, not even a question, and Ronan let out a heavy sigh.
(Just send her to the “Ra Cailum”. You do know the location of the ship now? It’s where your prince is working hard at now.)
“Yeah, this world is so small. I should ask you not to do anything to my son, shouldn’t I?”
(Why would I? I don’t want to be enemies against you.)
Martha finished this conversation with a thoroughly sarcastic reply and cut the line. Ronan put down the receiver and looked at the sunset that was redder than before, leaned on the back of the leather chair, and sighed.
The neighing of a horse came from the courtyard, and the window trembled slightly. That’s Pilgrim, right? Riddhe had been riding it around for a while, and once he left, it naturally can’t shake off its excessive vigor; This was what Dwiyon revealed to Ronan. He looked at the photo hanging on the wall, a photo with Ronan and a 5-year-old beaming Riddhe, and turned to look at the television without sound. A VTR of the disaster that was probably taken by a victim showed a collapsing skyscraper, the dust that loomed, and the people who were unable to evacuate in time. That scene was just like Hell on Earth.
Did Riddhe witness this battlefield too? He, bounded by the destiny of the Marcenas family, and treated his affections for the princess of Zeon as the only solace, did he witness this hell too? Ronan was emotionally-struck by a sense of depression and switched off the television.
After this, Riddhe will experience all sorts of despair again. He will think that his father betrayed him, will harbor hatred where he can’t release it, and will wait for things to develop, but this can’t be helped. I can only do this to let him and the world he lives for continue to exist. I can only do this to prevent the 100-year-old curse from toppling the world—Ronan closed his eyes silently, let out a sigh, opened his eyes again, and picked up the receiver of the internal phone.
“Bring Miss Mineva Zabi over.”
Night instantly arrived as the sunset hid itself behind the forest ridge. The road with hardly any vehicles passing by on it, let alone pedestrians, was dyed a darkness of night, and a wind that came from seemingly nowhere caused the entire field of black malt to rustle. Looking over, there were no street lights or anything, and there were no signs of any city lights. The only items that seemed to be holdovers from the old age, the telephone poles were extended across the horizon on both paths, leading far away.
It had been more than 3 hours since she followed her plan and escaped from the Marcenas’ residence. She should have reached the city earlier, according to her predictions, but at this point, it did not look like she was approaching the city anytime soon. She only walked for 7km, but she never expected it to take so much time and energy. The only things that could be used as landmarks were the windmills acting as wind-powered electricity. Mineva Lao Zabi looked far beyond the windmills, and opened up the map she brought from the residence, but found that the surroundings was so dark the words could not be seen, and bit her lips. The map rustled with the wind, and she looked around to inspect her surroundings. There was a worn-out restaurant sign beside the road in front of her that was about to descend into darkness.
It was a cottage-sized diner, a shop that could occasionally be seen in a colony. There was only one car parked at the parking lots in front of the shop, and business did not seem bustling. Mineva peeked through the slightly dirty window to look into the shop, checked that it was seemingly not a gathering of ill-intentioned motorists, and pushed the double hinged doors aside.
She could see only a counter and 6 box seats there, and after looking around, she could not spot a customer or even a shop attendant. “Is it possible to have a meal here?” she asked meekly, and a chair opposite the counter could be heard moving. An old man who was ostensibly the shop owner suddenly poked his head out, and his obviously surprised stare met Mineva’s in the eyes.
The shopkeeper quickly whipped up some greasy fries, a hamburger and a salad with only tomato and lettuce, and again sat on the simple chair opposite the counter. The television set in a corner of the counter was showing the news of the Dakar incident. The incident involved the remnants of Neo Zeon, the Federation army had increased their security, and the thousands of missing—or dead, trapped under the rubble; as she digested on the news broadcaster's words, Mineva silently ate her food. Even after deducting the expenses of the long-distance bus trip from the city, she still had enough money. This money was borrowed from Zinnerman’s bag after she left a message for the latter. She recalled how she hid from the others to search another person’s bag, and thinking about this act she once did pained her as her hairs stood; however, she had already experienced in “Industrial 7” the reality that she could not do anything without money. She considered that since she could only use this little money left, she should not waste even a single coin, and she felt hesitant over the excessiveness of coffee after the meal.
In fact, even if she scrimped on her money, she would not be able to assure her future situation. She had a faint hope that once she reached the city, she would be able to meet with the anti-government forces and contact Neo Zeon, but she understood that the aftermath of the Dakar incident made her expectations harder to fulfill. In the worst situation, she may be captured by the Federation public security, but it was better than to be tamed by the Marcenas family. She wholeheartedly thought about avoiding being used as a diplomatic bargaining chip or a mean to settle the aftermath of the Dakar incident, and planned this escape while seemingly losing her mind, but had practically no plan on what to do after leaving the residence. Basically, even if she were to meet with someone who could provide her aid, she did not feel that the current Neo Zeon had room for her.
Full Frontal actually let a man like Mahdi Garvey cause rampage on Earth, and most probably, had a hand in this incident. He hasn’t obtained the “Box”, so why is it that he decided to add fuel to the fire—? She recalled the face with the icy cold mask in her mind, and could not help but clasp her hands. At this moment, a cup filled with coffee was served before her eyes, and after she lifted her head in doubt, she saw the shopkeeper, “Drink up. It’s my treat.” Who said this.
He did not put up a false smile, and his straightforward attitude wore off Mineva’s urge to refuse this hospitality. “Thank you. I’ll help myself then.” Mineva answered and took a sip of coffee. it was probably expected to her, but it was a nice aromatic cup of coffee.
“I haven’t seen you around here before. Where are you from?”
The shopkeeper asked as he cleared up the plate containing the hamburger. Mineva hesitated for a while before pointing her finger upward, and the owner followed her finger as he looked up, replying, “You’re a Spacenoid? No wonder I never met you before.” He showed a smile, and Mineva showed an honest smile.
“I’ve been living on this rural land for so long that I almost forgot that there are people living in space. Are you someone who’s here to sightsee? There’s nothing much to see around here.”
“No…to someone living in space, it’s a delightful thing to be able to step onto the ground.”
“You’re referring to Earth’s gravity? To people like us, the gravity does inconvenience us in some way. If we can reach space, my feet and waist will more or less feel lighter.”
The owner cleared the utensils clearly and wiped his hands on his aged apron. He still looked healthy and strong, but his hands showed the many years of toil and labor. Mineva spotted a young-looking youth who seemed to be the son of the shop owner, dressed in Federation uniform, on an old photo hanging on the wall, “Have you always been living on Earth, owner?” and tried to ask.
“Yeah, I never left America once ever since I was born. I did go to the orbital path once for a field trip in school when I was young. My wife’s now dead, and I did think of going to space myself…but the money I saved up isn’t enough to pay for the expenses needed to migrate to space.”
“I heard that the Space Migration is still under way, is it not?”
“That thing is like a ship ferrying slaves in the past, set up to ship the illegal residents into space. Unbelievably, it seemed that they knew who didn’t want to go to space too. Someone like me will never be nominated to be moved to space.”
The shop owner laughed with a self-decrying flair as he poured coffee for himself and took a sip. There was no real evidence around, but Mineva could imagine that the son in the photo who set off probably never returned.
“I do feel reluctance about leaving a land I stayed on for many years, but in our era, we heard many tales of the devastation at the end of the old century from our forefathers when we were growing up. There were famines, natural disasters, wars…as bad as it can get. Humanity created the Federation government to escape from that hell, and started to move people to space. Some people said that they were just dumping the poor into space, but many said that they went to space on their own will. They all decided that they would not return to Earth before Earth’s natural environment recovered.”
She had already forgotten about this way of looking at things. The owner did not look at Mineva’s speechless face any further as he turned his sights at the special television program broadcasting the news.
“That Dakar’s just a land people feel will be devoured by the desert within a hundred years. Someone suggested about moving the capital over there after the war, probably to let the officials understand how bad Earth has deteriorated. The natural environment had finally started to recover, but the One Year War caused things to revert to how it was. Some felt that humanity should just move to space entirely and let Earth rest…”
“Are there any people who think this way amongst the Federation government?”
“Yeah, I suppose there was a young and gifted idealist who thought of it this way too…but even after looking at the reality in Dakar, humanity hasn’t changed. The only thing that can be said however is that the desertification is so fast it’s completely beyond expectations, and then they moved the capital to that place called Lhasa in Tibet or something. After it was destroyed by the Neo Zeon terrorist attack, those guys returned back to Dakar to rebuild. In the end, Dakar still ended up as a terrorist target. There doesn’t seem to be a limit to the worrying here.”
“Even if ideals are correct, people’s feelings won’t follow…we’re really hopeless.”
“Those are some deep words you’re saying, Missy. You seem pretty knowledgeable.”
The owner gave a probing expression in his smile. Mineva then realized that she spoke too much and lowered her head.
“But it’s not good for a young person like you to view things this way. I guess it’s best that you remember that all things start from humanity’s good intentions.”
“Humanity’s, good intentions…?”
“The reason why we built the Federation government, why we carried out the space migration plan, all of this was born from the good intention to save humanity and Earth. Those who wanted to stay on Earth and leave the land they were accustomed to their children did it out of their good intentions too. If the notion of wanting the company to earn money, or that of fulfilling the responsibilities we’ve been given are good intentions, then the intention to distinguish ourselves and change our families’ lives are of course good intentions…”
“But that should be called selfishness. It’s that kind of selfishness that ignores everyone else that the Earth—”
“Maybe, but if we deny that good intention, this world is basically darkness.”
The owner wet his lips with the coffee and said calmly. Mineva blinked her eyes, ostensibly caught by the flaw in her thinking.
“Some people suppressed their emotions just to work. That God in the East who abandoned his wife and son and left his house…Buddha, was it? I really can’t like that guy. I hate that Char who sent an asteroid falling down on us. He said that it was for the sake of Earth, for the sake of humanity, but what he did really caused me to wonder if he actually liked humanity before.”
These words rang in Mineva’s ears, seemingly tying down the her now. She could not entrust herself to those warm hands, she could not face the embrace that shrouded her, and she, who could not decide on her foundation, was just running away— “Then, what do you think I should do?” She realized the agitation she let out in her question as she looked at the owner face to face.
“Your question can be answered by those sly answers only adults can do. If I know the answer to that question, I won’t be here as a small diner boss in such a place here.”
The warm smile only an old man could give caused Mineva to relax her pricked nerves. She took a small sigh and gave a light smile.
“I agree with it. Besides, it’s a must to understand our own limitations as humans…”
“That’s true, but it sure is troublesome to hear you as a young person speak like you saw through everything and gave a brief estimation for others, Missy.”
At this moment, the shop owner looked at Mineva right in the eyes and spoke. The latter felt that her cringed self was slapped on the back and gasped.
Right, she was the one who thought that she had seen through everything. She grumbled about the surrounding darkness and cringed, not willing to take the initiative to do anything. She should have known that waiting was not going to work, and light was not going to shine in. “Is that so…you’re right.” She subconsciously muttered and clasped her hands tightly.
“I escaped outside without being restricted, but I thought that I saw through everything, and couldn’t progress on…maybe I’m really just running away…”
The owner frowned with a puzzled look. What I want to do, and what I have to do—these aren’t what I should worry, but rather what I can do now… as Mineva repeated these thoughts in her mind, she silently muttered to herself, telling herself not to run away anymore. At this moment, the coffee cup suddenly rattled, and Mineva looked up at the ceiling.
The deep buzzing sound became more obvious from above, and she could hear that it was the rotors of a helicopter spinning, causing the vibrations to spread within the shop. As the glass windows and other cutlery started to rattle, the owner did not look away from the ceiling as he muttered, “Has the military decided to patrol around here too?”. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The moment she made this decision, the other party came to invite her. She gulped down the cold coffee, “Owner”, called out and got up from her seat. She placed the dining expenses on the counter and stared right at the owner who stared back at her in utter shock.
“The coffee was tasty. I suppose this trip to Earth was worth this cup of coffee alone.”
The spotlights that shone down from the sky dyed the windows inside the shop. The sounds of the vehicles being parked rang continuously, and the sounds of the vehicle doors being opened and closed followed. “You…” the owner spoke as he retreated, and Mineva turned her back to him and faced the diner’s doors. Soon after, the double hinged doors were pushed aside, and several men rushed in with killing intent.
These men were dressed in suits, but Mineva could tell that they had pistols in their suits. It was easy of them to capture her back—no, there had to be something for them to invite her back after letting her escape this far. Once she realized this predicament, she met a man in his forties right in the eyes. The man’s expression did not waver, “Miss Audrey Burne” as he feigned politeness.
“Chairman Ronan is waiting for you. Please follow us back.”
He approached Mineva without revealing any openings, and put his hand on her shoulder. At that moment, the emotions that was vented within Mineva immediately exploded, “How rude.” and a sharp voice came from her mouth,
“I’m Mineva Zabi. I have no intention to run away from hide. Make way.”
The taller man was ostensibly jolted by electricity as he shook his hand off, took a step back, and nearly tumbled. Mineva bowed to the wide-eyed owner behind the counter, walked towards the door, took a breath, and entered the gathered spotlight.
This is good. My time as Audrey Burne has ended. As the heir to the Zabi family, there are many things I have to face. This realization was gradually settled within Mineva’s heart as she let the downwash from the helicopter blow upon her.
“…I have no intention of undermining Londo Bell’s independence. However, though you are an external organization, the fact still remains that you belong to the Federation’s space fleet, right? You have to listen to the order of the Senate chairman.”
Martha spoke as if she was a customer complaining about faulty goods. Her face, which was abnormally bewitching for her age, brought an overly intense flavor to the otherwise bland Captain’s room of the “Ra Cailum”. Bright Noa glanced aside to look at his impatient-looking First Officer Meran, “I have no objections to this order.” and showed a steeled face as he answered.
“The only thing about my personal doubt is regarding why is it that you, a civilian, had to be the one telling me this.”
“Did the Senate Council affirm this with you?”
“Yes. I’ve received notifications to assist the Vist Foundation’s request as much as possible.”
“Then, you have to follow orders. Londo Bell’s a flower without fruit amidst the tired forces in the chaos after the war. Your responsibility should be over once the space army’s reassembled. It should be your responsibility as the commander, Captain Bright, to assign new positions for your subordinates.”
“Oh.”
“If you’re willing to give assistance, I’ll naturally pay you back. Currently, I’ll use this battleship as a test ship for the UC plan, since the backup machines “Jestas” are gathered here as well….as for what kind of future this will bring upon Londo Bell, I suppose you’ll understand.”
Martha continued to sit comfortably on the reception sofa as she raised her foot triumphantly again. “Do you understand?” Bright showed no emotion on his face as he tossed this question to Meran, who answered, “I don’t.” Once he heard his First Officer’s confident reply, Bright felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked at Martha, whose hands on the armrests tensed up as she showed some hastiness in her eyes.
“…You’re really an old fox. I heard from others that you’re a blockhead who doesn’t understand about the affairs of the world. I suppose those useless subordinates of mine were completely fooled.”
Bright had no intention of denying or admitting this. Martha stared at this tight-lipped man for several seconds before sighing, and said, “Anyway, please listen to our side’s instructions.” before turning away immediately.
“Let me tell you this beforehand, it’s useless to hope for Chairman Ronan’s authority. Things were settled without you knowing, Captain.”
I don’t have to answer you regarding what you don’t know. She conveyed this message silently, frowned, gave a chilling glance, and turned her body, dressed in a violet suit around as she left the Captain’s room. Bright immediately relaxed the strength in his shoulders, and Meran realized the sigh he kept within for a long time.
“Good grief…that devil’s just like how she’s described.”
“But she’s anxious. That “Gundam” pilot has been keeping quiet whenever he was asked about information regarding the “Box”.”
Banagher Links, was it? Bright recalled the face of the boy who was ostensibly the “Gundam” pilot, and released his uniform collar. “What do we do?” Meran asked a meaningful question.
“It seems that her words about Chairman Ronan being controlled aren’t just a bluff. If the news about the Dakar incident and the “Box” are revealed, the Senate Council that had been assisting the Vist Foundation all this time won’t be able to stand up. The financial world is better than the political world in terms of manipulating the media.”
“If things may end up causing a scandal that involves the entire army, the aides supporting the Senate Council can only shut up…is this what you mean?”
“Yes. The Dakar Incident gave the Foundation an unexpected excuse. It doesn’t seem like that mobile suit, the “Banshee” was calibrated, but they brought it along too.”
He got up from the sofa and switched the monitor panel behind the office table to the external surveillance. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was docked 20km away offshore from Dakar, and one could still see the trails of dust remaining on the horizon. After two days of confirmation, the number of definite casualties had risen to more than 40,000, and this number continued to increase bit by bit even at this point. The shadows flying about the city were most probably the firefighters and the media. it was said that the relief squads had already deployed helicopters equipped with heat sensors from all over the world, just to find survivors buried under the rubble.
The same situation goes for the inside of the ship, as there was no time to rest. After confirming the casualties, sending in relief aid and doing all sorts of assistance, everyone realized that two days of work had just passed by. However, these seemed to have nothing to do with Martha. It was fine if it was just letting a mobile suit dock with the active squad, but she insisted that the ship was to follow her orders, and Bright gave an absolutely correct answer, saying that “The law never specified that we can move a government’s properly for private purposes”. She came to the Captain’s room to voice her misgivings, leading to the commotion from before. Since Ronan was exercising his authority as the vice-chairman of the Senate, Martha overruled this by using her authority as the Senate chairman, and he ended up being involved in this childish fight over power he inadvertently got involved in. At the rate this situation continued, perhaps one side would probably use the name of the prime minister?
“The Foundation and the Settlement Issues Council is having a tug-of-war with the Senate Council as the stage…what is that “Laplace Box”, for them to go to this extent?”
All the abnormalities started from that point. “I don’t know.” Bright rubbed his eyes and said as he turned to Meran.
“It seemed that the “Nahel Argama” was chasing the “Box” before the job got handed to us, but…”
“We can’t make contact with them? If they can testify against the ploys by the Foundation and the Senate Council, we may be able to turn the wills of those supporting the Council.”
“That’s a little difficult. The “Nahel Argama” is controlled directly by the Senate Council, and they’re banned from contacting their original regiment. If we resist the order, the command of Londo Bell may be moved by the Senate Council. It’s frustrating, but the fact remains that the space army wants Londo bell dissolved.”
It was just like what Martha pointed out. Londo Bell was a flower without fruit in the organization called the military, fatigued by the internal conflicts after the war—this temporary squad that was built to prevent Neo Zeon from rising again suddenly had a very heavy outsider flair. At this point, when the space army realignment plan was ready, many aides felt endangered by the massive discretionary power Londo Bell was granted. If there was a slight misstep, they would definitely use this chance to raise a large purge. “Besides, it’s not interesting to have the Foundation and the Council fight it out themselves.” Bright continued and sat back on the chair. He clasped his hands and continued to let his thumbs touch as he asked himself, What shall I do?
“…Looks like we can only work on our own?”
The answer was already out. Well, I‘ve been living this kind of life all this while. Bright closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, “Meran”, and lifted his determined face.
“Contact the Luio Chamber of Commerce. Don’t use the basic wireless in the ship; send a private mail to them.”
“The Luio Chamber of Commerce, as in the company based in New Hong Kong…?”
“That’s considered a top-notch company on earth, but it does deal with all sorts of business behind the scenes. There’s someone we can contact. Send the message to the media relations branch, and mark the recipient as “Hayato Kobayashi of the Audhumla”.”
Meran frowned for a short moment, but answered, “I’ll prepare the document” and stamped his heels together; however, he showed a relieved look on his face because there was a decision made. First, we will have to obtain the correct information, or we won’t be able to think of a plan to escape this ugly political battle. There’s no option of bowing to authority here. Bright, lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly stepped into a little ditch—and once Meran left the room, he slumped into his chair and put his eyes upon a deceased’s portrait.
“Don’t you dare laugh!”
Commander Amuro Ray’s photo did not say anything as it showed what looked like a wry smile back at him.
There was also an interrogation room in the battleship. The room that was used to interrogate prisoners or crew that broke the military rules was suspiciously similar to a setting in a movie, but there was a presence that indicated that this was not the case. The room that was 3m wide had a table for interrogating and a table for recording. The recording table had a terminal that was used for quick note-taking, and the interrogating table, naturally, had a moveable desk lamp. It was a piece of equipment used to shine upon the face of the suspect. But even after seeing all these things, he could not feel a sense of realism here.
As for this lack of realism, the fact that his hands were cuffed was a weird thing to him to too. He was interrogated by the Federation army and the Neo Zeon army before this, but both sides only prompted him to tell the truth, confirm the situation with him, and never gave him a vibe that they would raise their voices. This was the first time he was being interrogated for real—no, or rather, this was the first time he remained silent for so long. The handcuff chains that were shorter than he imagined rattled. It’s the sound of metal, Banagher Links thought blankly in his mind, and lifted his face that was less swollen. The interrogator’s stoic face could be seen from the other side of the bright desk lamp.
“It’s about time that you obey us now, right?”
The man’s voice showed a dumbfounded flair rather than anger or anxiousness. If this hulking man’s words were to be believed, he was in his forties, and used to be part of an elite squad in the past, the Titans. During the peak of the Zeon purge craze after the war, he used to torture a few suspects to death, and ended up dismissed from the military as a result. After that, this man was employed by the Vist Foundation. Leaving aside whether his words were true or not, his thin lips were showing the cruelty of an officer, and thus, Banagher tried his best to avoid seeing the other man’s face.
“Get into the cockpit of the “Unicorn” and bring out the data from the Laplace Program. It’s that simple. Just follow what you’re told to do, and you can get your freedom. We won’t pursue you about getting involved with the military’s top secret stuff or that you once assisted Neo Zeon. I feel this condition isn’t bad.”
The man sat on the chair with his waist tilted down and used his index finger to tap the finger. Banagher predicted what the other party would do next, and quietly gathered strength in his stomach. As he expected, the man kicked the table aside, “TALK!” and yelled, his voice echoing throughout the cramped room.
“If you think that you won’t be treated too severely just because you’re a kid, you’re in for a grave mistake here. In an adult’s society, we don’t show mercy to anyone we suspect to be an enemy. No matter whether that person is a woman or a child, we will torture thoroughly until the suspect comes clean. You took a military mobile suit on your own, joined the Neo Zeon ranks, and got arrested in flagrante delicto after taking part in the Dakar terrorist incident in the end. There’s no room for mercy here. If we hand you over to the military, you’ll be in jail for the rest of your life.”
Banagher heard the same things the previous day. If one were to link things that way, it was true that they could be explained that way. He, who had no intention of defending himself, turned his face to the man.
“The Neo Zeon cargo ship you rode on has escaped, and now you don’t have any place to return to. We are the only ones who can save you here. It’s too stupid to give up your life just for this kind of thing.”
The man’s voice suddenly became gentle, perhaps because he thought he got what he wanted. This kind of pampering tone really annoys me, and I’m able to be stubborn till this point. Banagher thought carelessly as he ignored the man and looked away from him. At this moment, the man slammed the table hard and yelled,
“WHO ARE YOU KEEPING THIS SECRET FOR!? YOU LITTLE—”
“That’s enough.”
Another voice could be heard, and the man shut up. The man sitting at the recording table got up, and his stout and fat body appeared amidst the light.
“Leave here for a moment. I want to talk with him for a while.”
Alberto Vist’s face was shown from bottom to top, and his body showed an unnerving shadow as he looked down at Alberto. The man clicked his tongue and glared angrily at Banagher for a while before he got up, walked by Alberto, and went pass the door of the room. The “Ra Cailum” had in practice become a personal ship for the Vist Foundation, so there was no crew member around for the questioning. The interrogation itself was not carried out by an officer, so naturally, there wouldn’t be a timekeeper accompanying. Once the man left, Banagher and Alberto were the only two people left inside. Of course, the men of the Foundation should be keeping their eyes wide as they as they look inside the monitor room through the camera through the camera on the ceiling.
Banagher had a vague feeling that the reason why he felt a bit mindful was because there was a hidden gravity linking him and Alberto. This man had the same father as him—and at this point, this was the only thing he knew of. He toyed with this relationship that seemed so surreal to him in his mouth, and looked back at Alberto’s face right in front of him. Just like their meeting on the “Nahel Argama”, Alberto’s collar was flipped slightly out of his obviously tight collar, and turned his blue eyes at Banagher.
“You’re protecting this secret for Cardeas Vist…your father?”
The back of Alberto’s chair let out a creaking sound before he slowly spoke up. Is that the case? Banagher pondered for a while, but before he could answer, he looked away from the other man.
“You’re really amazing. You have a strong will, you have guts, and even the sense of piloting the “Unicorn” is gifted to you. It seems that the Laplace Program’s data can’t be extracted without your neurowaves. Even if we tie you down to the cockpit, nobody else can read the data as long as you don’t agree. When did you learn how to operate it like that?”
Banagher himself was not sure. When Alberto barged into the cockpit, his first immediate thought was to switch off, and did not react because he understood the system. “Seriously, you’re made too perfectly.” Alberto sighed as he put his elbows on the table.
“You give the look like you don’t understand anything, but you’re always in the center of everything. The situation’s changed according to your will; you’re just like a natural king here, so perfect that it feels disgusting. What was unsealed might not be the Laplace Program, but you.”
These words were unexpected and ominous. Banagher inadvertently looked up, and Alberto seized this opportunity as his fat cheeks sneered.
“Don’t you find it weird? You’re too perfect already. As expected of an enhanced human Cardeas created.”
“Enhanced…human?”
Perhaps you’re the same kind as me.—Marida’s voice, which he heard some time before, suddenly awoke deep within his ears, and he felt goosebumps all over him. “Am I wrong?” Alberto said as his sneer intensified.
“When you were in the Vist family, I was in a boarding school, so I don’t know how Cardeas raised you, but…you said before that you don’t have any memories of that time, right?”
That was something Banagher let slip from his mouth the previous day. He again turned his silent stare at Alberto.
“Perhaps you feel that you sealed your own memories. But do you feel that an ordinary person can do this? If your talent wasn’t spotted by Cardeas, and if you were trained before you were matured—”
“THAT’S NOT THE CASE!”
He yelled out to shake off the chill, and the sound overpowered the sounds of the air-conditioning and the machine, rumbling the air within the room. Banagher did not look at Alberto’s face as the latter twitched his eyebrows, and instead stared at his hands that were handcuffed.
“Whenever I think about the past…about dad, mom, I’ll feel sad…that’s why I told myself to keep forgetting about them, forget about everything, until I really could not think of anything…that’s all.”
“If you’re able to forget your past just like that, it’s proof that you’re not ordinary. You’re an Cyber-Newtype created by Cardeas.”
“No! You’re wrong! The relationship between parent and child isn’t like that! If that’s the case, aren’t you a human created by Cardeas too?”
Alberto gasped and muttered, “What…” as his face looked sinister. Banagher stared right back at him in the eyes.
“The one entrusting, the one being entrusted…it’s because we’re father and son that we can love or hate, right? I can’t live like we don’t have any relation to each other, si I…”
Banagher swallowed the latter half of his words and he looked down. That’s why I can seal my memories too, and that’s why I can even recognize him as my father in such a short time, and got bounded down by his last words. This isn’t about theory, this isn’t about my own specifications. This troublesome thing called blood relations isn’t something that can be cleared through knowledge alone— “So, what are you trying to say?” Alberto uttered these words and turned his impatient face to the side.
“What parent and son, what blood relations…those are just biological definitions. There are still other things humans have to protect first.”
Alberto got up after saying these words, ostensibly trying to convince himself. This isn’t something he understood from his heart. Banagher instinctively sensed this as he looked at the back of Alberto’s pudgy body.
“What’s the so called “Laplace Box”? It’s an order. The world’s rules can continue to run with the secret beliefs in this “Box”. It’s like a common delusion, an existence that guards people from their selfishness. Once we lose it, the Vist Foundation will not be the only thing that can’t continue. The gears running the world up till now will lose control too. The Dakar incident was one proof of this. If Cardeas never intended on opening the “Box”, that incident would never have happened. After the chaos of the One Year War, we learned the tactics on how to control war.”
The shadow formed by the lamp caused the slightly arched back to look heinous. That’s the back of someone scared of something. This thought flashed through Banagher’s mind as he recognized this.
“After this, the organizations under the name of Zeon will be annihilated entirely, actual aliens will be the only enemies left for the Federation, and the situation won’t change. There is an instinct to fight within humans; as long as society continues to rely on the differences in hierarchy, wars will never disappear from the world. Even if we don’t deliberately scatter these seeds, humans can still find any excuses for war, whether they’re tensions in governments or occasional battles. Gears to drive the economy, a catharsis that can purge the instinct to fight; without these two factors, humans will continue to start full-scale worlds. This is a symptom of ill-management of humanity, and it’s impossible to cure them. We can only think of ways to live with our bad habits.”
If there’s a society where war is regulated, where we believe that terrorism and grudges can be managed, won’t we end up subduing people’s hearts. Won’t we end up creating more people like Mahdi Garvey? Banagher thought subconsciously, but he did not say it out. Alberto again returned to the chair facing him, and his eyes that were looking right at Banagher had a dull glint in them.
“Do you understand? We don’t view war as our food. It’s because of the Foundation and Anaheim controlling war that humans can avoid the fate of destroying each other after the wars, and managed to hang on. Cardeas however wanted to break this order, and you’re helping him to break it. Your father’s shadow buried within your heart is driving you and the “Unicorn”. Think about it carefully. What’s the point of protecting this secret for Cardeas’ sake? Even if a kid like you leaves the “Box” alone, there won’t be any benefit. You’ll just cause misfortune to everyone around you. You better treat this as a final advice from a blood relative—”
“Where is Miss Marida?”
Banagher let a voice so calm even he was surprised by, and was unable to speak. At this point, Alberto looked like he was taken aback in a critical area as he immediately looked away. Banagher however continued to stare at him and ask, “Miss Marida should be with you on Earth. Where is she now?”, and the latter suddenly gave a fidgety look as he looked back, “This has nothing to do with you.” sounding vague as he answered.
“Instead of talking about this, you should be understanding your own situation here—”
“I am thinking…! But is this something that I can decide with my own mind, right? I guess not, right?”
He subconsciously moved his hand and tapped the bottom of the table, creating a deep sound from below. Alberto cringed his body back slightly and turned his suspicious and fearful look back at Banagher.
“Up till now, the many people who got involved with me…including those who helped me, those who fought against me to the death, they all helped me become who I am. Even Cardeas…even dad, he’s just one of them.”
Banagher gritted his teeth and reached his tightly clenched fists onto the table. The chain of the handcuff let out a hard sound, and caused a slight tremor in the dim space of the interrogation room without a trace.
“Even now, I can sense that Miss Marida is somewhere nearly. She’s not the only one though; Audrey, Ensign Riddhe, Captain, Miss Loni, Mr Daguza, I can feel them too…I’m frustrated about this, but even you are someone I can sense. I have to find an answer everyone can accept before I can make a decision for the “Box”. That’s because I…”
Have to fulfill my responsibility—“I have to do this.” This line alone caused him to be bound together with others. That foreign sense spread within his heart, and he barely managed to swallow the latter half of his words as a result. In the end, is this line something I realized in my heart? Banagher gathered his consciousness in a corner of my temples, but he did not sense that pulsation. Once he affirmed that this was definitely his thought, he tried to think about that question again. What is myself?
An individual unit can’t accomplish anything, and this unstable existence definitely can’t form words. He can only relate with his parents, with others, before he can build his own self existence as he knows the world…or rather, “discover” it. If that were the case, the way I can feel everyone entering my heart isn’t a hallucination here, but that my original self won’t be killed off like this. What’s resonating and changing is the existence called “self”, and this sense that continues to expand may be the real nature behind Newtypes.
That’s why dad never told me to what I should do, but told me to do what I feel I have to do before entrusting me the “Unicorn”. He also entrusted the possibility of human change in me—but what if these souls I can feel can be adjusted by human means…? As he continued to think about things in a roundabout way, Banagher shuddered with fear and clasped his trembling fists together. Alberto turned his silent stare on the other party for a while and muttered, “That’s the curse binding you…just like the brainwashing of a Cyber-Newtype. How pitiful.” He did not look at Banagher in the eyes as he got up from his seat.
“Well, whatever. Even if you aren’t willing, you’ll be forced to comply anyway. Try and find those things you deem as answers before that moment arrives.”
These assured remarks caused Banagher’s hairs to stare. He gave a suspicious look back at Alberto for a moment, and the latter proceeded to reach his hand for the door.
“Really. You’re designed too perfectly. It’s really annoying.”
He gave a piercing glance before stepping through the door. The door panel that closed up immediately let out an abnormally loud sound, causing Banagher’s body and mind to let out a jerk as he remained alone in the dim room. He put his clasped hands on his table and slumped weakly on the table. Alberto’s shoulder figure still remained in his eyes, and Banagher felt tormented that the impression Alberto gave him was not completely dissimilar to Cardeas.
(…We can count ourselves lucky to be able to get back a single “Zee Zulu”. The incident in Dakar caused all the patrol fleets roaming around the colonies to gather on Earth’s orbit. The “Garencieres” has to leave Earth as soon as possible and leave the absolute defense zone until the preliminary stage is set up.)
The intensity of the scattered Minovsky particles was set at a very low level, but the communication feed of the ship as it moved through the atmosphere was still very bad. Due to the static, the expression on Full Frontal’s face, shown on the console’s communication monitor, was less visible than usual. Suberoa Zinnerman felt the plaster at the end of his eyes tighten, “Yes…” and answered. He could tell that Alec and Flaste, seated on the steering seat and navigation seat respectively, were pricking their ears from behind their seats.
(The Federation has increased their surveillance frequency, and this communication signal may be tapped on. Please tell me the new coordinates data you received from the Psyco Monitor, captain.)
“The “Unicorn” has fallen into the Federation’s hands. I suppose the enemy has already known this new information.”
(Despite so, the “Ra Cailum” that reclaimed the “Unicorn” seems to be moving very slowly. It seems that there was a mishap that caused them to lose this new information. Currently, luck still remains on our side.)
The lips below the mask showed a twisted smile as Frontal concluded. He, who gathered the Neo Zeon fleet, was looking down at the commotion on Earth from his flagship, the “Rewloola”. It seemed that the report from the Zeon supporters who got into the political world had already reached his ears at the first moment. Once the Vist Foundation, currently on the “Ra Cailum”, use more of their political power to force the high ranking government officials to submit, the more information would be leaked through the political route. Besides, those Senators who once benefited from the Garvey Enterprise’s business dealings were being investigated privately, and as nobody knew when they would be pursued to take responsibility, there was a tense atmosphere permeating throughout. Without know what kind of changes there would be the next day, people would start to talk due to this restlessness. Whether the entire Federation army finished sorting out their investigations, it probably would not be hard for the “Garencieres” to force an escape route out.
But to Zinnerman, this currently was not an important thing. It had been 2 and a half day since that incident, and the Federation military’s security on all of Earth’s ground was already elevated to combat level. The Zeon forces everywhere were already being shut down, and at this point, it was not just one or two guerilla groups being eliminated. Even the “Garencieres” had to hide from the satellite surveillance in the skies above the Euro-Asia continent before finally managing to establish contact with the “Rewloola”. The amount of fuel they had left was less than 3 days’ worth, and since there was no place left for them to resupply, they had no choice other than to retreat back to space with their tails between their legs. However, from the conversation he had with Frontal, Zinnerman managed to hear out on any other possible related information.
The “Rewloola” in space did not receive the relay signal from the Psyco Monitor. In other words, at this point, only the “Garencieres” had the coordinates data indicated by the “Unicorn”—Zinnerman kept his face from showing the hint of this possibility on his face as he met Frontal in the eyes through the monitor. “Then, it doesn’t matter even if we leave the “Unicorn” alone?” He asked with an emotionless expression on his face.
(Of course, we’ll send other people to grasp its whereabouts. We can’t be sure that the data from the “Unicorn” will be intercepted. I have already prepared other ships with Psyco Monitors to follow in place of the “Garencieres”. You just have to consider bringing the information back.)
Was I seen through? The ostensibly deliberate reminding voice caused Zinnerman to have this fleeting doubt, and he let loose of all other thoughts as he looked back at Frontal again. He gripped onto the Captain’s armrest that would not be shown on the monitor, “May I ask you about something?” and cautiously asked.
(What is it?)
“Why did you choose to support Mahdi Garvey’s battle?”
Flaste and Alec both turned their faces around in surprise from behind the console, but Zinnerman merely continued to look at Frontal on the monitor. (Are you unhappy about it?) the masked face asked, “No”, and Zinnerman responded, giving a looking indicating that he was the one asking the question.
(That truly wasn’t a wise operation.) After two, three seconds of silence, Frontal answered quietly. (If the fact that Neo Zeon took part in this operation was revealed, the losses on our side will surely be significantly. However, Captain, the Federation had never taken this much damage since the asteroid drop 3 years ago. What I want to see is how defiant the public is against the Federation.)
“The public…against the Federation?”
(Leaving aside the Spacenoids, there are also Zeon followers amongst Earthnoids. However, they could only declare their unhappiness by showing their anti-establishment. What will happen of those people see the one-sided brutal massacre on Neo Zeon’s side? What exactly will be the response when those people hear the news that it’s not a colony or an asteroid being dropped, but a massacre where humans can be heard screaming from close range…? I hope to use this chance to be sure by using the “Descendant of Dubai” as a cushion of the impact. This is to help determine the new direction for Neo Zeon once we get the “Laplace Box” in the future.)
The thin smile under the mask resonated with Mineva’s voice as she said, “He’s a dangerous man”. At this moment, Zinnerman felt a certain tense emotion breaking within him, and the balance that was swaying side to side had tilted to one side. “I see. Understood.” he kept a still expression as he answered. Frontal’s eyes under the anti-glare filter let loose a probing expression, (I’ll await your return), and he disappeared from the monitor.
This was already within Zinnerman’s expectations, but the masked face had already thrown aside the guilt from its conscience and its hesitation, showing no signs of remorse at all—and even brazenly in front of his subordinates that he was experimenting with public opinion in such a mocking tone. He felt a very indifferent chill rather than fatigue, and clasped his hands together as he leaned on the back of the captain’s seat. “Is this okay?” Flaste asked with a meaningful smile.
“You don’t look pleased at all, captain.”
“You’re the one who said that you want to know what Frontal’s hiding, not me, right?”
Zinnerman glared back, and Flaste shrugged as he turned forward. Alec moved his large body that even the steering seat could not fit as he looked at Zinnerman and asked, “Then , what do we do now?”. The latter closed his eyes, called back the thoughts he suppressed only a moment again, “Change our course.” and declared with his tone being that of a captain.
“True bearing 182. Avoid the sights from the satellites and move to the south Pacific.”
Alec blinked his eyes in surprise, showing doubt, and Flaste beside him was tapping at his fingers, looking like if he expected this. if they were planning to mouth above the equator in order to fly into space, he would not mention the Pacific when he gave this command. “Aren’t we going back to space?” Alec asked, but Zinnerman did not look at him as he looked over at the clouds outside the window in front of him.
“We haven’t saved the princess and Marida yet; we can’t leave just like this.”
“But, our fighting strength alone—”
“You want to go back?” Flaste glared at Alec, seemingly ready to chastise the latter by saying, You really don’t know anything. “The Captain never mentioned anything about the Princess, let alone Marida.”
Are you serious? On realizing this, Alec gasped, and his originally suspicious stare at Zinnerman became one of reluctance as he turned his head to the front. It did not matter whether they could do it or not. Ever since the end of the First Neo Zeon War, the “Garencieres” had been protecting Mineva during the rocky times, and to them, the option to leave her behind and return to the “Sleeves” base never existed. There were a lot of things in Zinnerman’s mind that he could not part away from; Mineva, Marida and the “Unicorn” that was the equivalent of the key to the “Box”. “There’s always an order of priority to things”, he said as he scratched his hard beard on his chin.
“It’s true that we can’t do anything now. Right now, all the government organizations have upped their security.”
“Then…”
“Let’s get back the “Unicorn”.”
Zinnerman’s determined tone caused Alec to turn his speechless face around. “We can use that as a trade bait to the Federation for the Princess and Marida. Since they don’t have the data on the “Box”, this works for us.” Zinnerman continued, and Flaste whistled at him as he answered,
“Sounds good. This is how the Garencieres team move. However, it’ll be hard to take action on the “Ra Cailum”.”
“This is worth a shot. Tell Tunick to focus on the satellite feed, and don’t miss out on any of the “Ra Cailum”s actions.”
They’re like us here, they can’t possibly be flying forever. If we focus on their movements, we’ll definitely get a change to take action. First, we have to gather our fighting strength. Zinnerman thought as he summoned the map of the South Pacific sea charts on the monitor. “What do we do with the brat?” and then, he heard Alec’s question.
“Of course we’re going to get them all. That package’s worth more here, right captain?”
And just like before, when both of them were sitting and fighting with their stares, Flaste said this with a meaningful look in his heads. Zinnerman recalled Banagher Links eyes that were etched in his, and made an unhappy frown on his still swollen face, “Depends on the situation.” as he briefly replied. Flaste gave a bitter smile on his face and retreated behind the back of the navigation seat. soon after the order to change navigation path was made, the sea of clouds outside the window started to flow sideways quickly.
The “Garencieres” turned its triangular prism ship shape around as it drew a wide arc above the clouds and quickly moved to the southern sea. The ship looked as fast as ever as it escaped the perimeter set by the “sleeves”, and the sun that was dazzling radiantly was the only thing watching over their whereabouts.
The large body of the black “Unicorn”, kept within the hangar, looked like it was able to shake the air around it, and the demonic presence it gave was reminiscent of an ancient Eastern demonic sword. Like the “Unicorn” lined beside it, the hangar was surrounded with rope preventing entry, and the specifically designated guards from the Vist Foundation were the ones surrounding them. The rumors that they were still undergoing adjustments seemed to be true, as there were sensors attached to the gondola at the abdomen, and a large number of cables were snaking out from the cockpit. Instead of saying that it was maintenance, it was probably more apt to call it an ‘experiment’. Sub-Lieutenant Watts Stepney looked up at it, “I heard it’s called the “Banshee”.” and nonchalantly said.
“It’s the second unit of the white guy, tested under gravitational conditions. The ones being beside the machine all day seem to be the members of the Augusta Newtype Research Institute.”
“Newtype research? Wasn’t that sealed up long ago?”
Sub-Lieutenant Nigel McGusiness, who had been listening beside, asked back. At this moment, “It’s because it’s not sealed that those guys are here.” Watts answered, seemingly believing in not thinking too much with regards to unexpected situations. Lieutenant Nigel Garrett stood beside both of them as he leaned on the handrail of the catwalk, and after seeing his handsome face, Riddhe held in his sigh as he looked at the “Banshee”. He could see the two Unicorn-type mobile suits lined on the wall opposite from the catwalk inside the mobile suit deck.
It seemed that the mobile suit deck of the “Ra Cailum” was over its capacity as it was docked with the 12 “Jestas” it could contain , the “Delta Plus” and the two “Unicorns”. It was possible to contain these machines only by using the overhaul space deep within the bow and the rear deck that was used for staring the Base Jabbers. The back of the deck was used to store the transport carrier of the “Banshee”, the “DO-DAI”, which took up a lot of space. In the end, the contingent from the Vist Foundation showed no regards for anyone else, and even set up a forbidden entry zone in a corner of the deck. It was to be expected that Nigel and the other original crew were to feel repulsed by it. The mechanics moving around would show looks of hidden motives, and the atmosphere within the ship was as unfriendly as it could deck.
If there was work, they could at least distract themselves, but the “Delta Plus”, which overexerted itself during the previous battle, was moved to the overhaul space, and the assigned chief mechanic, Sergeant Hanna, was currently carrying out full disassembly. Until the unit became humanoid, there was nothing Riddhe could do, and he could only give a glum look together with the Tri-Stars and stare at the unique machines with lone horns. I should have brought the model along, he carelessly thought about this out of a sudden. He could not contact his father who seemed to be on his way to Dakar, and could not meet Banagher, confined within the ship, as he wanted to. He could not do anything, and did not know his situation. Might as well turn my back on everything—
“Haven’t you heard of anything, lord Ensign?”
The burly Watts did not realize Riddhe’s feelings at all as he gave a gruff voice befitting his body build. “About those white and black mobile suits, are they not related to the orders the Senate Council gave you directly?”
“I don’t know. Those guys really annoy me too.”
“And you have the cheek to say that. Isn’t there an order in the ship to secure that white gy?”
“I heard that it launched from a Neo Zeon ship. Didn’t your “Delta Plus” work with it to defeat that mobile armor? It’s really too unbelievable to hear you say that you don’t know know anything.”
Daryl too followed up on this conversation. Riddhe withstood the urge to click his tongue as he looked back at both of them. “Is that the mobile suit in the UC plan?” but Nigel interrupted, causing Riddhe’s heart to race.
“It’s written on the shoulder.”
Nigel leaned beside the handrail as he pointed his chin, and Riddhe looked over at where he pointed. Over there, the words “Project UC” were clearly indicated on the right shoulder armor of the “Unicorn”. Daryl casually added on, “Ah, that’s true.” And Riddhe slumped onto the wall weakly.
“If it’s designed to fight with this guy, then there’s a reason for the extremely high specs o the “Jestas”. Most likely, they’re meant to move beside this guy and clear up all the small fry while this guy charges right at the enemy’s core…like a Newtype controlling Psycommu weapons, for example.”
After hearing Nigel’s plausible deduction, “What, now we’re its prey?” Watts grumbled as he twisted his lips, while Daryl said, “That’s not right, isn’t it? We were planned to be the test pilots for this thing.” How much has Nigel observed regarding this? The Tri-stars captain merely spoke calmly, “It might be a good thing we aren’t the test pilots.” as he did not pay heed to Riddhe’s probing glance from beside.
“This guy’s mobility isn’t normal when it transforms into a “Gundam”. A normal pilot probably won’t last 5 minutes in it. It’s impossible to design it to such a ridiculous extent if it wasn’t planned to be piloted by Cyber-Newtypes in the first place.”
“Cyber-Newtypes…” Daryl’s face suddenly turned pale as he muttered this. “With those guys from the Newtype research institute around, I guess you’re right.” Nigel however said nonchalantly; Riddhe followed his stare and looked at the cockpit from the cockpit. He could see a human silhouette in full black pilot suit from between the gaps formed by the sensors on the gondola. The pilot’s appearance was covered by the helmet visor that was pulled down, but the slender figure could be distinguished from the pilot suit. The pilot looked weak, but the physical body was giving off a certain hardiness, reminiscent of a puppet with a spring inside.
Is that a woman? Riddhe looked at that machine-like pilot’s body, and as he leaned his body over the handrail, there was a short and stout man with a contrasting figure there, blocking his sights. It seemed that Alberto sensed Riddhe’s stare as he gave an antagonistic glare as he put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder and brought her into the cockpit. Riddhe originally thought that he was merely a high-ranking person in the Anaheim Electronics company, but he was an important member of the Vist Foundation. That man, who boarded the ship with the chairperson called Martha, had taken the ship and the “Unicorn” as his personal property. What in the world is dad doing now? Riddhe grumbled deep within his heart. He let the people of the Vist Foundation interrupt, so why hasn’t he given me any instructions yet? This is a chance to snatch the “Box” from the Foundation and release the world from the 100 year curse. I abandoned everything and came here in order to pay for the Marcenas’ sin—
“You mean that if we end up becoming this thing’s pilot, we might end up being enhanced…?”
Watts whispered as he looked at the back of the pilot who disappeared behind the cockpit hatch. There was already a rumor amongst pilots that a Cyber-Newtype was a synonym of being a vegetable. Then what about Banagher? Riddhe pondered, and then shook off this question without an answer before it exploded his head, and lifted his head at the sound of a machine being activated as it rang throughout the deck. The large shutter leading to the aft landing deck was opening slowly.
The air became wind due to the difference in air pressure, and it flowed into the gap of the shutter that was being opened. As Nigel’s slightly long hair swayed with the wind, Riddhe, who was standing beside him, spotted a small jet on the other side of the shutter. The moveable jet engines below the wings stood vertically, and the machine that was being towed in by a tractor unit entered the mobile suit deck.
“That’s a civilian craft.”
“Seriously. We sure have a lot of guests coming in.”
Watts and Daryl looked dumfounded as they commented, while Nigel continued to give an unceremonious observing look. Riddhe felt shocked as he too looked down at the approximately 10m long mini jet. The mini jet stopped in the middle of the deck with mobile suits overlooking it on both left and right side, and the mechanics immediately ran towards it. the wheels stopped, and once the hatch on one side of the jet opened, Riddhe could see men in black suits walking down the ladder, before a familiar face followed as it appeared in his sights.
“Mineva…?”
Riddhe nudged aside his heart, which was beating loudly as he bent half his body over the handrail. He could see a proud-looking girl flanked by men in suits on both front and back as she walked down the ladder. Why is she here? He felt dizzy as his blank mind suddenly had this thought. She should be at home. I came here to ensure her safety. Why is she showing herself here? Why is she looking so tense? It’s like she was forcefully brought here—
“AUDREY! AUDREY BURNE!”
The fact that Riddhe did not call out Mineva’s name here proved that his sanity was still functioning at least. By the time he realized it, Riddhe had already yelled out, and was starting to wave at the mini-jet parked approximately 50m away from the aft. This alone however wasn’t enough for him, and he immediately rushed out. “What’s going on?” “Is she someone he knows?” he left behind Watts and the rest as he dashed to the end of the catwalk. He could identity Mineva’s chestnut-colored from the back of the “Jesta” fastened on the hangar, her appearance clearly etched in his eyes.
Why must you come here? You can’t stay here? There’s a malicious intent to make use of you swirling here! Riddhe poked his body from the end of the catwalk, “AUDREY!” but his voice was gone with the wind. He could not bring himself to waste any time further by clicking his tongue as he immediately dashed off to the nearest airlock. If he wanted to move from the catwalk to the deck, he would have to first return back inside the ship, move through the passages, ride the elevator or use the ladder. The ship’s construct that was designed for zero gravity use had never made him as spiteful as this moment.
Mineva suddenly sensed someone calling out for her, and lifted her head.
The mobile suit deck for any ship that was built looked all too similar. In this wide space, approximately 30m in height and 50m in width, the mobile suits docked in the hangar were lined up like Buddha statues. A lot of the machines’ paint was worn off, probably because they were involved in quite a few actual combat situations, and the welding sparks could be seen scattered. She could immediately tell that they were Federation mobile suits, machines with chiseled shoulders standing beside each other, and the emotionless eyes covered with goggles were staring at the wall over it.
Am I thinking too much here? Mineva looked around, and let out a soft sigh. At this moment, a foreign looking object appeared in her sight, causing her to stop. At the only area where a perimeter was set up, the spotlight was on the horn of a certain mobile suit’s forehead, dazzling brightly—
“A black “Unicorn”…?”
There was a golden horn atop the pitch black shiny armor, and Mineva could not find any other appropriate vocabulary to describe it. Right beside it was the familiar white “Unicorn”, lined side by side with it, and the facemask giving off a certain regal presence was facing the space opposite it. the reason why it looked more slender as compared to the first impression was most probably because of the overly savage look of the black “Unicorn”. The pitch black machine with golden ornaments on the armor gave it an appearance beyond that of rigor. Unlike the “Unicorn”, which had a certain comforting harmonic feeling to it, it gave a feeling of indifference, not willing to communicate with anyone. it was most likely that they originated from the same place, and these two machines that could be called sister units actually looked so different…
Since the “Unicorn” is here, Banagher should be somewhere inside this ship, right? Mineva again looked around, only to be greeted by a female voice, “Welcome, Your Highness Mineva Zabi.” She turned her face around, and found a middle-aged woman dressed in violet suit standing right in front of her, with several men awaiting behind her.
“I’m the substitute leader of the Vist Foundation, Martha Vist Carbine. The long journey has certainly been tough on you.”
The woman said this as she bowed politely; however, her condescending expression was completely different from her tone. This is the daughter of the Vist family who married into the Anaheim Electronics chairman’s family, and if I remember correctly, she should be Cardeas’ little sister. Mineva recalled the information that was investigated before she left Neo Zeon, and at this moment, the woman who called herself Martha took a step forward slowly, her thick perfume scent teasing Mineva’s nose.
“You’re really young and pretty. This is the inside of a battleship, but please relax, Your Highness, we’ll ensure your personal safety.”
“Does Senator Ronan Marcenas know about this?”
Once she was brought back to the mansion, Mineva did not have the chance to meet Ronan at all as she was jettisoned off to the plane and sent all the way here. She knew that the jet was sent over from the Vist Foundation, but she did not know what sort of dealing Ronan had with the Foundation, and she did not know the reason why she was brought onto this Federation ship at all. She realized that she did not know the name of this ship at all when she spoke up cautiously. “Of course.” However, Martha answered, her deliberate smile not wavering at all.
“We’re moving with the same objective as Senator Ronan. This should be your wish itself too, Your Highness.”
“My wish…?”
“We want to seal the “Laplace Box”.”
Mineva could not help but gulp, and Martha, upon witnessing this, turned her lips that were coated lightly with lipstick into a smile. “I heard that you left Neo Zeon for this reason, Your Highness. I can assure you that the “Box”, which will bring about disaster, will be set aside in a place nobody in the Foundation can touch, whether it was, is, or is to come.”
Martha’s gestures were indicating that this was an act, and when she bowed, her stare looked up at Mineva. This woman is dangerous.—the latter’s instincts were yelling, making her body tense as she clenched her fists tightly.
(…I heard that the “Box” key is left to that “Unicorn”. Have you detained its pilot?)
(Yes. He’s currently resting inside the infirmary.)
Just when Banagher thought that the air trembled suddenly, a familiar voice immediately echoed in his ears. His body that was lying on the bed immediately bounced up, and he turned around to look at the communication panel that was suddenly lit.
This place, which was used as a detention room, seemed that it was originally a personal room for officers, and there was a 10 inch monitor set up beside the bed. On see the figure of the voice’s owner, Banagher felt his gulp become a vomit.
(The infirmary? Is he wounded?)
(The boy’s fine. He’s just a civilian who ended up riding on the “Unicorn” out of coincidence, but he certainly has the talent to pilot and guts. If you wish, I can arrange for you to meet him after this.)
An unfamiliar woman’s voice interrupted, (Sorry to bother you about this.) and Audrey answered back before stepping forward again. The hidden camera that was installed on a certain person’s chest was moving after her, and her chestnut-colored hair was swaying on the monitor. The scenery shown was definitely the mobile suit deck of the “Ra Cailum”, and she, Audrey Burne, was aboard this battleship. “AUDREY!” Banagher yelled as he reached his hand for the intercom button of the communication panel. He continued to press the unresponsibe button, “IT’S ME, BANAGHER!” and yelled at Audrey on the monitor.
“NO, AUDREY! YOU MUSTN’T REMAIN HERE! AUDREY!”
Audrey walked off without turning back, and the Vist Foundation’s subordinates surrounded her, sheltering her back that was covered with a white blouse. Banagher punched the monitor, leaped off the bed and rushed to the bedroom. “SOMEONE! OPEN THE DOOR! LET ME OUT!” He slammed the locked door hard and yelled.
After a few slams , the sound of the lock being opened rang, and the automatic door swung aside. Banagher instinctively backed away, saw the man’s face standing behind the door, and was startled, rooted to the floor.”
“I said it before. Even if you’re unwilling, you’ll have to cooperate one way or another.”
Alberto did not look away as he walked into the room. Banagher turned to look at Audrey on the monitor, before looking back at Alberto again, “Don’t tell me…” and eked out a trembling voice.
“You came all the way here, riding on the “Unicorn”, in order to save her. Then, you should now cooperate with us to save her.”
“You’re despicable!”
“Whatever you say. We can only do this in our positions.”
There were Vist subordinates looking inside the room, standing behind Alberto, ostensibly blocking off all exits. I caused everything here—once he had this realization, Banagher felt his knees tremble, “Let me speak with Mr—Ensign Riddhe!” he said out the thought he suddenly had.
“That man definitely won’t agree with this doing. Audrey should be protected by his family now…!”
“It’s useless. We’ve already struck a deal with the Marcenas’ family. Her Highness Mineva will be taken care of by the Foundation.”
“What did you say!? Is this something adults should be doing!?”
“Yeah. Thanks to brats like you messing around, the adults certainly suffered quite a bit. You have to empathize with us here.”
Alberto’s firm stare that was different from before caused Banagher’s legs to tremble as he was speechless. The former looked back at the latter, “Since we share the same blood, I’ll just give you one advice.” and continued,
“Cardeas’ father, our grandfather, was killed by our great-grandfather, the leader of the Foundation. Do you know what this means?”
Alberto continued to force this smile on his lips as he brought his face over to Banagher. The latter was pushed back, deep inside the room, and sat on the bed.
“This is the Vist bloodline. In this cursed bloodline, you and I are both just pedestrians. Give up on the naïve thinking that we’re relatives. Even father and son have to kill each other, and the Vist family will kill even their own kind to protect the “Box”.”
The stare of someone who once killed his father was looking down at Banagher in a twisted way. At that moment, a certain emotion that was forced to its limits let out a creaking sound, and he felt his chest cool down immediately. “Hand over the data of the Laplace Program. You’ll get your freedom, and she’ll be saved.” Alberto spoke to exert pressure, and Banagher, who looked back at those bloodshot eyes, lowered his face and nodded slightly before he understood what he was doing.
Alberto heaved a sigh of relief, “Oi” and once called out at the door, Banagher could sense the former taking a step back. The three men on the passage walked into the room, and the feet clad in black leather shoes entered his eyes. He could see one of them taking out handcuffs and raised his hands. Once that man closed in, Banagher got up and used the momentum to send a headbutt into the man’s belly before his hands were grabbed.
The man groaned as he was sent flying back. Alberto, who caught him from behind, fell back on his backside, and the black-clad Foundation subordinates were in disarray. He darted below a subordinate who immediately leaped forward, lowered his head, and charged towards the exit before rushing out of the room in a forward lunge. “You…!” as Alberto growled , Banagher shut the door intently.
Banagher did not have time to lock the door. “Oi, hold it!” an angry growl rang through the corridor, and the guards with white gun holsters on their waists were pursuing right after him. However, he continued to run, and he followed his memory when he was first taken to this place as he made a right turn on the first cross junction, hoping that he could head towards where the elevator was.
The images displayed on the communication panel did show the hangar of the mobile suit. Audrey was detained in the mobile suit deck together with the rendezvous machine, and at this point, she was definitely at the bottom of the deck. What can I do once I get there? he could not think at all as he pressed the elevator button. “Don’t let him get away! Get him!” Alberto’s voice immediately rang from behind, and Banagher, who realized that he had no time to wait for the elevator, hurriedly darted down the stairs beside the passageway.
He immediately dashed down the extremely steep steps that were just like a ladder as its name implied. He arrived onto the lower deck, the siren rang, and right at that moment, two crewmen waiting on the corridor turned their faces at Banagher in surprise, “Oi…” a man spoke up, wanting to raise his hand, only to be sent flying away Banagher slid down the next set of stairs before the growls reached him. He rushed down seven levels worth of steeps as the many footsteps loomed behind him, and rushed to the corridor that should lead to the mobile suit deck.
The air flowed slightly, and the faint smell of grease whiffed in, indicating to him where the mobile suit was. Audrey’s heartbeat that was there, and the touch that indicated the beginning of everything, arrived along with the wind, and he continued to run forward despite the alarms and the people’s growls right after him. He turned at a cross junction, reached the end of a T-junction, turned right, and nearly knocked into someone else running over at him.
“You’re…!”
The young man dodged behind to avoid a head-on collision, and widened his eyes. “Mr Riddhe…” Banagher muttered, but the pursuers’ footsteps caused him to look back again. He immediately grabbed Riddhe’s uniform and pulled him over,
“Ensign Riddhe. Audrey’s on this ship now. The Vist Foundation wants to use her as a hostage.”
“Hostage…!?” Riddhe gasped, and lifted his lower jaw. “Wait!” “Oi, get that guy!” the yells came from the corridor behind Banagher, and he gave a pleading stare at Riddhe. It’s all on you. If it’s you, you’ll definitely be able to understand. Banagher had relied on Riddhe when their mobile suits interacted with each other, and looked at the latter, who was gritting his teeth. Riddhe lowered his brown eyes, and gave Banagher a bitter expression.
“…Go.”
He muttered with a barely audible voice, and took the fire extinguisher installed on the wall. “The mobile suit deck’s straight ahead. Hurry.” Riddhe informed Banagher, who did not have the time to thank as he darted forward. The sound of the fire extinguisher being sprayed overpowered the pursuers’ footsteps. The rattled guards’ angry roars and shouts could be heard on the corridor, and entered Banagher’s ears through the white smoke.
The white smoke of the fire extinguisher was pushed by the air flow. Banagher opened the air lock before it caught up, and suddenly stopped upon seeing a wide space in front of him. He could see the mechanics who were stunned by this sudden alarm, the tractor units on their paths, and the cranes that were dangling from the ceiling approximately 30m. As he spotted the mobile suits standing there, he looked around this large cavity. He could see a group of men dressed in black at the bottom of the inner wall opposite where he was, and there was a woman in white blouse surrounded by these hulking men, fresh in his eyes, walking with her back straight.
“AUDREY!”
Banagher yelled as he gathered his entire strength in the form of a voice. Audrey stopped in her tracks and looked over, meeting him in the eyes. Despite the fact that she was smaller than a thumb at this point, he could clearly see her expression. Her emerald eyes were wide open, and he could even see himself as a reflection in her eyes.
“Banagher…!”
Audrey’s mouth moved as she took a step towards him. The men surrounding her immediately blocked her way, and the figure in white blouse was covered by the men in black suits as she disappeared. An unfamiliar middle-aged woman looked over at him unhappily, Such insolence. Let go of me! Audrey’s struggling voice gradually faded away, and as Banagher spotted her being dragged to the air lock at the inner wall, he saw nothing else in his eyes. The distance to that point was 40m at maximum, and as his body estimated this subconsciously, he leaped off the floor, his palms ostensibly scratching the floor apart as he sprinted.
At that moment, his right hand that was reaching behind was grabbed, and he was dragged over forcefully. In an instant, his body that was afloat in the air slammed into the wall behind, and a blunt impact struck the back of his head. He could not understand what exactly was going on, and he reached for his numb head as he spotted a person in black pilot suit amidst his fading consciousness.
The uniformly black fabric had golden stripes on it, showing the slender body of the pilot. On the left chest of this armor-like like vest covering the torso, there was the symbol of a Unicorn indicating the Vist Foundation, marked with golden lines as well. It looked like a personalized pilot suit for the “Unicorn”—a complete opposite indicating a stark contrast between light and darkness, a black color giving a demonic image. Banagher did not think too much about what it meant as he looked over the shoulder of the pilot suit in front of him, trying his best to look for Audrey. He tried to reach his leg forward, but a hand shot out like a bullet, grabbing his throat. In less than a second, his body was pushed back and slammed into the wall again.
The hand pressed down on Banagher’s windpipe like a plier, not moving at all. Stricken by the fear of suffocation, he flailed his limbs and tried to escape. However, the pilot’s head, covered by the helmet visor, did not move, and the slender body provided an unimaginable strength as it forced Banagher onto the wall. The flailing arms hit the helmet, the visor switch was immediately clicked, and a familiar pair of blue eyes appeared in his sights.
“Miss Marida…!?”
It seemed, deep within the azure pupils ostensibly leading to the sea, a certain emotion jolted for an instant. Of course, Banagher felt that he smelled her sweet body fragrance when he was facing off against that black “Unicorn”. He felt the hand on the neck relax, and shout, “Miss Marida, it’s me! Banagher Links!” He used this opportunity to grab her by the shoulder, and the most he was about to bring the face covered by the helmet to himself, Marida shook off all doubt as her eyes showed killing intent.
The hollow eyes were darker than when they first met, and were reminiscent of a cave—Banagher felt a chill as he wanted to draw back, but it was too late as Marida slammed her knee into his gut, and a piercing blow felt like it was about to stab through his spine, shaking his entire body. His legs lost strength, and he fell limply on the floor and squeezed out a voice, “Mari…da…”. He reached his hand and grabbed the pilot suit. Marida remained unmoved as her legs were spread apart, and as both of them looked at each other, Banagher again sensed that there was a hesitation in the bottom of the other person’s eyes, “Ple Twelve!” only to hear this growl.
“Don’t let this guy escape. Restrain him.”
Alberto, who was standing at the door of the airlock, was panting, and his shoulders were rising and falling as he growled a command. Marida’s eyes that were looking down at Banagher became dark hollows again, and the hand grabbing his throat regained strength. As he was being lifted to the wall again, Banagher used his hands to grab Marida’s hands. Miss Marida, please wake up. Audrey—Princess Mineva is over there. He tried to call out to her with all his will, hoping for the resonance in thoughts they once had; however, what appeared in the bottom of her eyes was a hollow where light could not shine into. Banagher’s hand was easily shaken aside, and his arm was restrained as she immediately sent him sprawling on the floor.
“Banagher!” Audrey’s call could be heard faintly. The stone-faced Marida betrayed no expression as she stared down coldly at Banagher on the floor. The eyes overlapped with the black “Unicorn”, and Banagher bit his lips tightly. He gathered his thoughts at Audrey’s presence that was moving away, summoned all his remaining strength, and yelled out,
“AUDREY!”
There was no response. He was dragged up by the arms above his head and brought away from the mobile suit deck. Marida did not respond as she stood around in her black pilot suit like a puppet, her eyes still within a corner of Banagher’s sights.
The tropical forests, which were said to cover 14% of the landscape in the past, once took up 3% of the land. It was said that this figure rose back to 6% during the Universal Century. The primary reason behind this accomplishment was the countermeasures against global warming during the old age, and the reforestation started once the Space Migration officially began. But at the same time, the indigenous people who relied on woodcutting for a living lost their jobs. They did not get proper education to gain decent jobs, and could not find any jobs even if they wanted to make the switch. These people who were the “excessive” were naturally deported into space first, and were living in the colonies where they would not suffer famines or floods. The highly civilized, highly educated did not think about what the actual people involved were thinking as they showered the latter group with good intentions.
The descendants of those ‘excessive population’ stayed in the tropical rainforests that were protected, located within the clustered jungle region of Eastern New Guinea, 17 years ago. These colony residents who were living behind the moon, the people who were abandoned furthest away from Earth, arrived here with the help of the armor called mobile suits, and took part in the invasion of Earth with their comrades scattered along the continent. However, most of the squads could not defend the frontline that was overextended, and could not return back to their motherland—the Republic of Zeon, and could only end up scattered in the forests.
There were the “Zakus”, the main forces of the republic, the “Goufs” that were developed on Earth’s frontline bases, and the amphibious “Goggs” machines. The monoeyed giants used to trample through the forest and fight against the Federation army, but at this point, it was covered by the forest and moss, and the cockpit that was gradually rotting away because a nest of poisonous snakes. To the salvage industy, this was a gold mine. However, there had not been any incidents of anyone ransacking the mobile suits lying asleep in this place ever since the war end. That was because of a widely accepted misinformation that a core reactor exploded in this place before, and the radiation spread around.
In fact, that was a mean to prevent others from approaching this place, and the old battlefield was already covered by green shrubs for a long time. As of this night, It had been 17 years, 1 month and 15 days, when the first “Zaku” landed on this land—counting from the time the 3rd wave of the Republic’s forces pushed into the South Pacific. What may be the last two remaining “Zakus” were strolling through the forests; their soles that were as large as minivans stepped on the reddish-brown dirt loudly, and the multi-layered sea of trees let out hissing sounds. The trees in this area were more than 30m tall, and thus, the giants that were 17m tall would not be protruding their heads out. It was impossible to see two machines moving from above, and only the birds that were woken from their sleep flew out of the branches away from the machines’ paths, their chirping were the only thing rang under the moonlight.
The MS-05L “Zaku” walking in front is a variant of the initial Zaku-type version, and it had a large sub generator behind it, which also powered the long-barreled beam rifle it was wielding. This sniper-type “Zaku” that was produced in limited numbers at the end of the war could be considered the latest amongst the “Zaku I”, commonly known as the “Old Zakus”. However, the fact that it had become an antique on this day would never change. Following behind was the MS-06K “Zaku Cannon”, a first generation machine that did not have a moveable frame as well. The cannon equipped on its right shoulder looked powerful, but also gave the feeling of the distance in age. As both machines were products produced before the linear seats were created, they did not have all-view monitors, but rectangular flatscreen panels in the cockpit for navigation.
A crescent moon covered in clouds was shown on one of the monitors. If one were to look over, it seemed that the glowing colonies could be seen in the middle of the stars that littered the sky, but their homeland, located behind the moon—the Side 3 currently renamed as the Zeon Republic could not be seen. “It’s so far…” Yomen Kirks muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the moon that would appear and disappear between the trees from time to time. (What?) the neighboring unit Kandle asked back through the wireless communicator, but Kirks ignored it as he let the feeling of the control stick seep into his hand slowly after having not held it for 3 years. The rhythm of the main generator reached Kirks fingertips, and before the breath of the still-alive “Zaku I” could reach inside his body, he stepped on the brakes and let the machine stop.
“This area alone should be enough, right? It’ll be troublesome to go back if we move too far from the base.”
He looked up at the crown of trees covering him from above as he called out into the wireless communicator. There were no stares from anyone else in this area deemed as a radioactive quarantine zone, and in this forest hailed to have 40 of all lifeforms in the world, the nocturnal animals that had not changed even since the ancient days were letting their howls echo through. The “Zaku Cannon” stopped in its tracks and stood to the rear left side of Kirks’ machine (Yes…) Kandle’s choked on his words as his voice came in through the wireless communicator.
(It’s such a pity. We actually have to bury the machines we kept up till now with our own hands…)
“It can’t be helped. My Sniper Zaku and your Zaku Cannons are just walking antiques now. Since we can’t find anyone to reclaim it, we can only leave it here.”
(That’s true…but they can move though.)
“It’s only a matter of time before they stop moving anyway if they aren’t recharged. We haven’t activated it for quite a few years. You should be rejoicing that they’re able to make it all the way here.”
Kirks released his hands from the control stick and stroked the console in front of him. “We can probably earn a lot if we can sell these to a weapons fan…but this guy probably doesn’t want to be treated as a plaything.” Kirks muttered to himself, and use this surge of emotions to undo the seatbelt of the seat. He took out some highly potent plastic explosives from his spare parts and connected the cables to the countdown timer. He installed them below the console seat, switched off the light of the main generator, and opened the door.
The humid air covered his entire body, and his skin that was more than 50 years old was aging slower, but sweating at this point. As long as the explosion was triggered, the cockpit would be blown to bits, and the “Zaku I” would be in the equivalent of a death state. Kirks pulled out the lift wire used to get up and down the machine, and landed on the double-layered armor at the abdomen, “Don’t blame me.” He said to his beloved machine.
“Some idiot who started a fireworks display in Dakar, and those Federation dogs came killing after us. We can only slip away here. I want to bring you guys along, but based on whatever the sponsor said, it seems that sacrifices are necessary.”
Kirks put his foot on the metal ring of the lift wire and activated the countdown wire. The countdown timer set on the seat started to tick down, and the red numbers of the 5 minute time limit looked exceptionally eye-catching in the cockpit with its lights switched off.
“Our sponsors want to pacify those Federation dogs, so we have to create proof that the Zeon remnants were rounded up for him. As payment, those dogs will let us off. Well, this is embarrassing; we came all the way here from our homeland, and we even lived till now…”
The anti-Federation organization acting as their sponsor, EGUM, would only accept machines of at least the 3rd generation, and the machines had were moved away from New Guinea through all sorts of means. This was the prelude to the extinction of the Zeon remnants on Earth, and the Shinbu base that had always been the largest rally point in the Southern Pacific was moving towards its end—this closure was too unbearable, no different from an escape in the middle of the night, but Kirks had no intention of blaming those people fromEGUM.
The higher-ups ofEGUM, who were aiming to overthrow the Federation government, hoped that the Earth army continued its current military production, and the National Defense senators used the profits of the war economy to control the politics. The anti-government forces were aiming for the moment the Senate started to audit its budget and launch a limited terrorist attack to increase the budget required; and in this sense, EGUMand Neo Zeon were practically waiting for the Federation government to take action. Their time of feeding their subordinates and disguising themselves as Neo Zeon was finally about to come to a close. They lost a homeland they could return to, and what they could only rely on was the belief that they could revive Zeon—no, the people who had things they could believe in were all dead. The terrorist had fallen to the extent of being a mercenary, and he dragged his body, rendered lethargic by the humidity, to live a haphazard life. Now, this man could finally clear off the pretense he had in the past, and that was all.
In this situation, the “Sleeves” that were living in space were not too different. Perhaps the Dakar incident was the last smoke lit, foretelling that they would soon reach annihilation. In the end, once the coexistence with the Federation, the hired terrorists all over the world would be faced with unemployment. If the Zeon Republic dissolves in Universal Century 100, the name of Zeon would vanish completely, and people like him would probably devolve into real ghosts. “We could have ended things off with a bang.” Kirks squeezed out these heartfelt words from his bitter chest as he turned his bitter smile away from the cockpit.
“There was that Delaz Conflict, and then there were the two Neo Zeon wars. There were so many chances for you to appear, but for some reason, I can’t send myself to my death here. Kandle’s about to have his 3rd brat here. That guy was just a snotty brat during the descent, and now he’s a decent father here. It’s no wonder you and I are old now…”
The middle-aged man’s face, which had useless flesh gathered as he brazenly lived his tough life, was reflected off the switched-off monitor panel. The buzzing of the insects’ wings grazed past his ears, and Kirks gave himself a slap on the face, suddenly felt embarrassed, trembled and lowered his eyes, saying, “Bye then. Go over there and wait for me first.” After this short goodbye, Kirks left the cockpit. Suddenly, there was a communication call, (Leader! We got a code. It’s from the sky!) and Kandle called up as Kirks was about to reach his hand for the lift wire switch.
“From the air? A Federation patrol?”
Kirks immediately brought his upper body into the cockpit and pressed the call button. In this case, it would be earlier than what they expected. The Federations should be starting their search tomorrow. The misinformation of this place being contaminated by radiation had been keeping people at bay, and since Kirks and his company had been hiding in this place all this while, he did not feel that the scout planes would fly by here. He regretted switching off the main generator as he looked sidelong the flank of the abdomen at Kandle’s “Zaku Cannon”. (No, this is…) Kandle muttered as his gasp could be heard clearly through the wireless communicator.
(It’s a secret code used by the Zeon army, a code used during the 3rd drop!)
Kirks’ heart instantly stopped, and then started to beat again. He took the earphones set on the seat and brought his ears over to them. The sound that was similar to the old Morse code entered his old brain through his eardrums, awakening his memories. It was a code he memorized in his head 17 years ago. At that time, he was encased inside a HRSL capsule together with his mobile suit, and he had been listening to that voice until the moment he was launched down to low orbit. When my fear and excitement rang in cadence, that was the code—!
“Please…provide assistance…give the Federation…a good one…?”
Kirks inadvertently uttered these words out as he deciphered this code, and the sound of the words caused his heart to race again. At the same time, the sound of an engine, akin to that of the wind, passed by from above, and Kirks looked up at the sky through the canopy of trees. The crescent moon was giving off a thin and sharp light, and a small dot with a trail of smoke appeared before this light. It was a transport ship with its navigation lights off—no, from its extremely long shape, it seemed to be a VTOL-type ship returning to Earth.
(Leader…) Kandle let out a puzzled voice “Cut off the wireless communication. Remain on standby.) Kirks instinctively ordered and continued to watch the ship as it flew through the night ship. It was calling out with a code used during Earth’s invasion, and most probably, it was a ship sent in from ship. Kirks could not think of what sort of effect it would bring as he decided to cut the countdown of the bomb. BEEP. The numbers were stopped, indicating a time of less than 2 minutes, and his heart continued to beat in the cockpit of the “Zaku I”, unwilling to fade away.
The air was filled with the peculiar odor of paint and overheated wires, a stench unique to a military battleship where one would have no choice but to accept that he was in a sealed space. The liftgrip lined along the wall became a long and useless installation under gravity, and what was extended in front of Alberto’s eyes was a passage that was without any characteristic except for practical use. Alberto Vist was running down the passage, ignoring the bouncing of his loose flesh whenever his soles hit the floor and his struggling knees as he dashed down the long passage. He pushed aside the battleship crew on the passage, arrived at the T-junction where the wall stood in front of him, and saw the air lock of the mobile suit deck he was looking for.
He, who was so anxious that he was seemingly about to knock into the door panel, did not check the values of the pressure gauge as he pressed the opening switch. The wind that blew outside was proof that the air outside had moved into the mobile suit deck. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was moving in a relatively low height, but the air pressure at 500m height was still a lot lower than the air pressure maintaining the inside of the ship. Alberto arrived at a corner of the mobile suit deck that could be called a large hollow cave, followed the narrow channel along the wall, poked his body out from the handrail and looked at the bow of the ship. The shutter linked to the catapult deck was completely opened merely moments ago, and the blunt heavy sounds caused by the metals stepping on the floor rang throughout as he saw an abnormally shaped uniformly black machine pass through the shutter.
The streamlined cold-looking machine had a mask that completely covered the profile of its face. The mechanics solders saw majestic sight of the golden shining horn at the top of the “Banshee”, and stopped whatever they were doing as they gave it a look of shock. The white machine of the “Unicorn” could be seen beside the “Banshee”, but this machine that had a horn too was slumped weakly and could only stand straight with the support of the “Banshee”. The left arm equipped with the shield was slumped limply while the muzzle of the beam Gatling was almost sticking to the ground.
As seen through the monitor on the bridge, the pitch black shiny armor of the “Banshee” showed no signs of any scars as compared to the “Unicorn” that had lost all life within. Alberto basked his face in the air filled with the stench of oil, stared at the white machine that was thoroughly stained in dust, and charged towards the mobile suit hangar located at the wall. He could see Bentner and his assistants, dressed in white clothes, on the gondola beside the hangar set aside temporarily for the “Banshee”s use as they worked on the observation equipment they brought into the ship.
The “Banshee” ignored the humans looking at it as it bent down like a human and let the “Unicorn” resting on its shoulders slump onto the deck. “How’s the situation?” Alberto panted as he got onto the gondola from the gap and asked Bentner, whose bald head turned around as he arched his back, saying,
“I should say that it’s more ideal than what we expected here. The adaptability the specimen showed with regards to the “Banshee” is rather flawless, and there’re no problems with the link with the NT-D.”
Albeto looked at the Newtype Research Facility Head who was sneering away and felt a sense of unease rather than relief. The backdoor left beforehand meant that the brainwashing was incomplete, and someone sent her in discreetly. “This is a case of being easier than it is. Perhaps Madam Martha’s values managed to provide an influence here.” While Bentner continued on, Alberto reached his hand for the elevator button of the gondola, and descended 10m while Bentner and his assistants hurriedly grabbed the handrail. Once the gondola stopped, he hopped onto the deck.
The “Banshee”s massive frame was headed towards the hangar as it moved its feet that were as large as an automobile. Alberto glanced aside at the abdomen that was approximately level with the 4th storey, and at that instant, recalled the face of the “specimen” inside the cockpit, and ran towards the “Unicorn” lying slumped on the deck. The mobile suit squad that was deployed to Dakar had already returned, and the deck hangar was already half-filled with landing crafts. Alberto told himself secretly to finish his own job before the ship crew and pilots calmed down. He darted around the feet of the “Jestas” that were giving off smoke caught from the fires, and crossed the deck together with his subordinates who were starting to gather around him. “WHAT’S GOING ON!?” However, an angry roar stopped him in his tracks.
“I just got blindsided by that black “Unicorn”! Call out the pilot! Who’s the one in charge here!?”
The pilot was stopped by the subordinates in black suits, but he still turned his furious stare at Alberto, who had an impression on his face. He spotted the machine, the “Delta Plus” that was lying on its back as it was being taken in after the assault of the “Banshee”, and faked a genuine smile as he answered, “My my, isn’t that Ensign Riddhe?”
“I heard that you died in battle on the “Nahel Argama”. It’s really great to see you safe and sound.”
The pilot widened his eyes and gave a startled look back at Alberto. “You’ Anaheim’s…” Riddhe Marcenas said, “I’m Alberto Vist of the Vist Foundation.” only to be interrupted by Alberto, who looked over the shoulder of his subordinate and stared right at the blond hair that looked agitated from the battlefield.
“I have to apologize to you for the inappropriate handling of the situation. The Foundation ordered the pilot of the “Banshee” to secure the “Unicorn” as a top priority mission.”
“The “Banshee”…you’re referring to that black “Unicorn”?”
“Exactly. Currently, it’s the RX-0 with the highest completion rate, and doesn’t have the excessive item of the Laplace Program. One can say it’s a mobile suit that’s purely designed to tackle Newtypes.” Riddhe gasped and pulled his lower jaw up, showing the guilt of a similar secret they shared. He, as the real son of Ronan Marcenas, was a hawk sent from the Settlement Issues Council, and Alberto understood this as well. Don’t let him get close—Alberto commanded with this expression and ignored the stare clinging onto him as he tried to turn away. “Oi, hold it! What authority do you people have…!” An angry voice followed, but Alberto shook him off by saying “Captain Bright understands.” And quickly approached the “Unicorn”.
There were burn marks all over the white machine as it was dyed a layer of black stain. A steamy hot wind blew at Alberto’s face as the latter arrived at its feet. The mechanics equipping with firefighting equipment were on standby around the machine in case a fire broke up. “Nobody’s to get close to it! That’s our Foundation’s property!” Alberto growled and put on the gloves his subordinates handed him as his moved through the crowd. As his subordinates scattered to prevent any of the ship crew from approaching, Alberto did not find as he brought his hand to touch the still-scalding “Unicorn”.
He climbed up the ladder his subordinate prepared and used the front armor at the waist as a footing and climbed to the cockpit hatch at the abdomen. The key of the “Laplace Box” Cardeas created, this pure white machine that bore the fate of the world—was finally in front of his sights. Alberto originally intended to use the “Ra Cailum” as the base for the search, but he never thought that he would be able to get his hands on the “Unicorn” right after he met the ship. He would not allow anyone else to interfere, and intended to immediately cut up the abdomen to extract the secrets of the “Box”. He used his gloved hand to touch his face that immediately felt feverish, stood beside the cockpit cover, and whispered to his subordinate that followed up, “Do it.” The subordinate nodded, opened the access hatch, and pulled the emergency lever. The sound of hot air being exhausted could be hoard, the cover that covered the torso to the abdomen was opened, and the rectangular cockpit hatch appeared in front of Alberto’s eyes.
The cockpit was still bright as it was function. Alberto waited for his subordinates to draw their automatic pistols, checked the situation inside the cockpit, nodded, and stepped into that cramped ball-shaped space. On the linear seat surrounded by the all-view monitor, one could see a pilot in his suit, lying limp on it.
Banagher Links—he muttered the name he could not shake off in his heart ever since he arrived onto Earth, and peered at the groggy face through the helmet. The swollen face looked like it was punched before; is it because he was exposed to the tremendous G-force? Alberto shook off this suspicion that suddenly appeared in his mind and looked around at the all-view monitor which displayed the scenery on the deck. There was nothing abnormal to note of, other than a few windows that were not functional. Alberto did not know the circumstances which led to the “Unicorn” taking part in the battle of Dakar, but since the NT-D was activated, there was a very high probability that new information was revealed. He brought his hand to the linear seat, stared at the monitors that were full of static noise, and then turned to look at the display board on the seat.
Alberto saw that on the 3 display boards, the middle one was showing the “La+” logo, and his heart immediately jumped. This was the thing, the Laplace Program that lit the way to the “Box”. Since the system was on standby, he would be able to retrieve the data just by operating on it. Is it an intermediate point here? Or is it going to reveal the location of the “Box” directly? he looked behind, checked that no one was peeping into the cockpit, and reached his trembling hand for the touch panel. at that moment, the sound of the power being shut off rang, and he was surrounded by darkness.
The all-view monitor images disappeared, showing the ball-shaped monitor panels. The “LA+” signal disappeared like an illusion. Alberto desperately activated the switches of the standby power, but no matter how he tried, there was no electricity, and the touch panel’s signal did not revert to its original state. Was the generator cables burnt off? He wiped his forehead that was sweating like rain, and as he reached his hand for the monitor beside the linear seat, he saw a white object flash by his sights.
“It’s useless there.”
From below the helmet visor, the whites of Banagher’s eyes appeared in the darkness, and his swollen face was distorted with a smile. The monitor did not shut off naturally, it was switched off—Alberto felt a chill in his mind as he understood this, and stared at the boy lying limp on the linear seat. The latter’s firm stare overlapped with Cardeas’ eyes, and Alberto felt the sweat on his body cool down.
It had been more than a day, but the sky of Dakar broadcasted through the television was still a light brown. Perhaps it was new dust raised during the removal of rubble and relief aid, or perhaps it was the deaths of 40,000 who were killed without reason lingering at this place.
The wreckage of the mobile armor was surrounded by several construction machines, showing its body amidst the hastily assembled scaffolding. There were so many wounded that they were lined on the corridors, and the dire situation of the city hospitals was such that one would mistake them for guerilla hospitals. The wasteland of rubble that extended beyond the horizon, the dead and wounded that overlay on them, and the marquee messages for the missing were all roaming under a color of tea brown. Ronan Marcenas stared at the number of casualties that continued to increase in thousands, and felt a familial sense of guilt in his heart— are these the victims of the Box? As he felt this surge of emotions, he looked away from the television in his office. He turned his chair to the window where the sunset was shining in, and brought his ear to the phone receiver tucked between his shoulder and cheek again as he remarked wryly, “Everyone’s being extremely busy now. It will hurt to have suspected without proof here.”
“This incident is really completely unexpected to us. As you know, Dakar has a lot of capital invested in it. I’m just telling you over the phone that I too used the name of my company to buy Dakar company shares. What benefit does it have to me to turn the shares I have into scrap paper?”
(It can stimulate the Federation army realignment plan—I wonder how you feel if you explain it this way?)
A woman’s voice let out this immediate answer through the hotline phone directed via satellite. (This incident most definitely shows that there are threats still present on Earth. Including the space forces, this can prompt the armed forces on Earth to strengthen themselves and sweep all Zeon forces before the Republic dissembles…it will definitely bring about great economic benefit. The loss of the stocks in Dakar can be replaced easily like that, right?)
Martha Vist Carbine—the Empress of the Moon was a woman not to be underestimated. This determined and influential person was just as the economic and political world described, and at this point, she was snickering on the other end on the phone. She had just gotten onto the “Ra Cailum” which rushed off to Dakar, and she was already on the Captain’s hotline phone as she made this call to Ronan’s office, giving this deliberate taunting words. Ronan had already known that Martha came to Earth, but he had to admit that she, who dealt with the situation in Dakar faster than anyone else, who even sent in the 2nd RX-0 to the scene as a souvenir, was abnormally active in this. Ronan pulled in the “Ra Cailum” to search for the “Box” in order to prevent the Vist Foundation from interfering, but looking at the current situation, he was being apprehended.
Since Martha could interfere with the backing of the Senate Council Vice Chairman, it was likely that she had at least acquired the approval of the Senate Council chairman, or even a high ranking official approval—this possibility did exist. To these high ranking officials who would react according to the winds and cared only on their short-term benefits and self-preservation, how much impact will the incident in Dakar bring to them? How much restrain will they abandon? Ronan felt through the phone call that Martha had everything clear in mind, “In that case, you’ll be the ones benefitting from this, right?” and answered back, smearing mud on the other party’s face.
“Anaheim Electronics President’s wife…no, I should be calling you the substitute leader of the Vist Foundation now, right?”
(Just call me Martha.)
“Then, Martha, even if our main plea is to increase the military supplies, we will definitely not use the capital as a sacrifice. Unlike Lhasa three years ago, we have many casualties on the government’s side too. First, the party that triggered this incident wasn’t Neo Zeon, but Islamic radicals who preached about breaking away from the orthodox teachings.”
At this moment, the television just so happened to show the Garvey Enterprise building, and Ronan turned his sights to glance at that image. There were police cars parked right in front of the building, and the investigators carrying cardboard boxes were gathered in hordes like ants at the main entrance. The investigations included the dealings with other companies, and the initial stage of the various procedures with regards to the freezing of the Garvey Enterprises assets were most likely completed. The solar generators Garvey Enterprise had were absorbed under the Government’s control, and the operating profits would be used to rebuild Dakar and compensate the bereaved relatives of the victims. This process was most likely planned to the details by assistance teams created by related independent organizations. Fortunately, or not, the Senate Council and the surrounding official areas managed to avoid this calamity, and the Senators were slowly gathered at this capital that was off its alert phase, summoned for an emergency parliamentary meeting.
The objective of the man named Mahdi Garvey was still unconfirmed, but this one terrorist attack was not enough to cause the gears of money and power to stop. The bribery of the supervising institutes to build that mobile armor, the political contributions, and the expenses required to rebuild the capital; these was the bloodstream of the capitalist society, locked within a sealed loop. Did this man descend upon madness because of the “Box” too?He looked at Mahdi’s VTR that was being replayed again, and uttered these words in his heart before looking back outside the window again. (These radicals you say have a Neo Zeon insignia on their mobile armor. Also, there were eyewitness reports of the “Sleeves” mobile suits, right?) Martha argued back and used her voice to choke Ronan’s neck.
“There are always implications behind lawbreakers, regardless of principles or propositions. Anyway, the shock from this incident is second only to the previous “Char’s Counterattack”. The security on all the government facilities have to be increased, and all ships moving to and from Earth will be checked on without exception. Of course, including the remnants of Neo Zeon, we will carry out the thorough eradication of the terrorists. Considering he economic losses from the delay in shipments and the added adjusted budgets on both the military and public safety sides, I wonder how much more money we will have to spend here—”
(Chairman Ronan, what you said is ostensibly right, but we civilians have it tougher in terms of money. Let’s stop groveling in the dirt on each other and talk about something that will benefit both parties.)
“I hope so too, but I am someone who has to get to somewhere immediately too.”
(Then I’ll cut the chase. I heard that a certain highly esteemed visitor is currently residing in your residence, Chairman. I hope you can hand that person over to our care.)
Ronan’s heart that would not be shaken by practically anything suddenly skipped a beat, and his hand that was holding onto the receiver trembled. He had already prepared himself when he asked the military for a full time surveillance watch that ‘her’ staying in his house would soon be revealed, but he never expected the other party to stab him first. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say…” Ronan immediately answered, but Martha again took the initiative as she cut him off, (You’re the one who said that you don’t want to waste time.) and spoke with a cold tone.
(This is for that person’s safety too. The terrorists chose to attack the capital during the parliament break, and most likely, the media will think that the government’s trying to creating an act. The opposition that think that the money should be allocated to welfare instead of the army realignment plan will stand on the same frontline as the media, and the final responsibility will be pointed at the Settlement Issues Council that has been pushing for the realignment. At this point, if people find out that the princess of Zeon is hidden in the house of the Council chairman…)
The leaders of the military body moved only for body, secretly colluded with Neo Zeon, and planned a terrorist attack using Islamic militants as a cover-up to help increase the budget of the Federation army’s realignment plan—this script that could not be overturned easily immediately flashed through in Ronan’s mind, and his held himself from clicking his tongue and closed his eyes. “This is really an impeccable rhetoric you have there. One might even suspect that you’re the mastermind here!” Ronan retorted sarcastically, and Martha could not hold back her snicker (The majority of the society only believes in what they hope to believe) as she spoke with a cold tone.
(Everything is a conspiracy set by the Settlement Issues Council. I suppose this story should be an exciting fantasy the foolish public will like, right?)
“Will the secretive Foundation hiding the mysterious “Box” appear in that fantasy?”
(Let’s see. If the media is willing to let go of all advertisements related to the Foundation, with Anaheim Electronics first, they’ll definitely be able to write a more interesting fantasy.)
Did she expect everything here? Ronan realized that this opponent was not going to be easy as he gave a sigh of realization, “Speaking of the Foundation, I did hear of a rumor.” and raised a topic to revive the situation.
“The Senate is currently discussing about reevaluating the laws of societies and foundations. If this bill is passed, the audits for public welfare will be stricter, and the non-profit organizations that exist only in name will be taxed like legal entities. In other words, the idea of taking advantage of a non-taxable privilege to hoard funds for the Foundation won’t work. Amongst it, the Foundation may most likely have to disband.”
(What has this got to do with the secret organization hiding the “Box”?)
“Of course it has nothing to do with it, but the premise before that is that you must certainly have the “Box” first.”
The breath from the other end of the phone vanished, and for the first time, Martha answered back in silence. Ronan was not bluffing; he had prepared countless legal ways to force the Vist Foundation into a corner for this moment. He held his breath and waited for the other party’s response, but after several seconds, (I won’t let you lead me here.) Martha merely answered coldly.
(Please hand “her” to the Foundation. This will benefit both sides.)
“Leaving aside my side, what benefit will you get?”
(You can think about that. We’ve acquired the mobile suit that’s basically the key to the “Box”. Don’t forget that the benefits and ills of preventing the “Box” from being revealed works for both of us.)
Ronan lost the battle completely in this one. The RX-0 which contained the signals locating the “Box”, the authority over the “Ra Cailum” and all the bargaining chips on the table were in Martha’s hand. It was difficult to deal with the aftermath of the Dakar situation with the power of the Federation government alone. if he did not rely on the power of the Vist Foundation, he would end up causing the government to dissolve. (Please make a decision as quickly as possible.) Martha then spoke in a rhetoric, not even a question, and Ronan let out a heavy sigh.
(Just send her to the “Ra Cailum”. You do know the location of the ship now? It’s where your prince is working hard at now.)
“Yeah, this world is so small. I should ask you not to do anything to my son, shouldn’t I?”
(Why would I? I don’t want to be enemies against you.)
Martha finished this conversation with a thoroughly sarcastic reply and cut the line. Ronan put down the receiver and looked at the sunset that was redder than before, leaned on the back of the leather chair, and sighed.
The neighing of a horse came from the courtyard, and the window trembled slightly. That’s Pilgrim, right? Riddhe had been riding it around for a while, and once he left, it naturally can’t shake off its excessive vigor; This was what Dwiyon revealed to Ronan. He looked at the photo hanging on the wall, a photo with Ronan and a 5-year-old beaming Riddhe, and turned to look at the television without sound. A VTR of the disaster that was probably taken by a victim showed a collapsing skyscraper, the dust that loomed, and the people who were unable to evacuate in time. That scene was just like Hell on Earth.
Did Riddhe witness this battlefield too? He, bounded by the destiny of the Marcenas family, and treated his affections for the princess of Zeon as the only solace, did he witness this hell too? Ronan was emotionally-struck by a sense of depression and switched off the television.
After this, Riddhe will experience all sorts of despair again. He will think that his father betrayed him, will harbor hatred where he can’t release it, and will wait for things to develop, but this can’t be helped. I can only do this to let him and the world he lives for continue to exist. I can only do this to prevent the 100-year-old curse from toppling the world—Ronan closed his eyes silently, let out a sigh, opened his eyes again, and picked up the receiver of the internal phone.
“Bring Miss Mineva Zabi over.”
Night instantly arrived as the sunset hid itself behind the forest ridge. The road with hardly any vehicles passing by on it, let alone pedestrians, was dyed a darkness of night, and a wind that came from seemingly nowhere caused the entire field of black malt to rustle. Looking over, there were no street lights or anything, and there were no signs of any city lights. The only items that seemed to be holdovers from the old age, the telephone poles were extended across the horizon on both paths, leading far away.
It had been more than 3 hours since she followed her plan and escaped from the Marcenas’ residence. She should have reached the city earlier, according to her predictions, but at this point, it did not look like she was approaching the city anytime soon. She only walked for 7km, but she never expected it to take so much time and energy. The only things that could be used as landmarks were the windmills acting as wind-powered electricity. Mineva Lao Zabi looked far beyond the windmills, and opened up the map she brought from the residence, but found that the surroundings was so dark the words could not be seen, and bit her lips. The map rustled with the wind, and she looked around to inspect her surroundings. There was a worn-out restaurant sign beside the road in front of her that was about to descend into darkness.
It was a cottage-sized diner, a shop that could occasionally be seen in a colony. There was only one car parked at the parking lots in front of the shop, and business did not seem bustling. Mineva peeked through the slightly dirty window to look into the shop, checked that it was seemingly not a gathering of ill-intentioned motorists, and pushed the double hinged doors aside.
She could see only a counter and 6 box seats there, and after looking around, she could not spot a customer or even a shop attendant. “Is it possible to have a meal here?” she asked meekly, and a chair opposite the counter could be heard moving. An old man who was ostensibly the shop owner suddenly poked his head out, and his obviously surprised stare met Mineva’s in the eyes.
The shopkeeper quickly whipped up some greasy fries, a hamburger and a salad with only tomato and lettuce, and again sat on the simple chair opposite the counter. The television set in a corner of the counter was showing the news of the Dakar incident. The incident involved the remnants of Neo Zeon, the Federation army had increased their security, and the thousands of missing—or dead, trapped under the rubble; as she digested on the news broadcaster's words, Mineva silently ate her food. Even after deducting the expenses of the long-distance bus trip from the city, she still had enough money. This money was borrowed from Zinnerman’s bag after she left a message for the latter. She recalled how she hid from the others to search another person’s bag, and thinking about this act she once did pained her as her hairs stood; however, she had already experienced in “Industrial 7” the reality that she could not do anything without money. She considered that since she could only use this little money left, she should not waste even a single coin, and she felt hesitant over the excessiveness of coffee after the meal.
In fact, even if she scrimped on her money, she would not be able to assure her future situation. She had a faint hope that once she reached the city, she would be able to meet with the anti-government forces and contact Neo Zeon, but she understood that the aftermath of the Dakar incident made her expectations harder to fulfill. In the worst situation, she may be captured by the Federation public security, but it was better than to be tamed by the Marcenas family. She wholeheartedly thought about avoiding being used as a diplomatic bargaining chip or a mean to settle the aftermath of the Dakar incident, and planned this escape while seemingly losing her mind, but had practically no plan on what to do after leaving the residence. Basically, even if she were to meet with someone who could provide her aid, she did not feel that the current Neo Zeon had room for her.
Full Frontal actually let a man like Mahdi Garvey cause rampage on Earth, and most probably, had a hand in this incident. He hasn’t obtained the “Box”, so why is it that he decided to add fuel to the fire—? She recalled the face with the icy cold mask in her mind, and could not help but clasp her hands. At this moment, a cup filled with coffee was served before her eyes, and after she lifted her head in doubt, she saw the shopkeeper, “Drink up. It’s my treat.” Who said this.
He did not put up a false smile, and his straightforward attitude wore off Mineva’s urge to refuse this hospitality. “Thank you. I’ll help myself then.” Mineva answered and took a sip of coffee. it was probably expected to her, but it was a nice aromatic cup of coffee.
“I haven’t seen you around here before. Where are you from?”
The shopkeeper asked as he cleared up the plate containing the hamburger. Mineva hesitated for a while before pointing her finger upward, and the owner followed her finger as he looked up, replying, “You’re a Spacenoid? No wonder I never met you before.” He showed a smile, and Mineva showed an honest smile.
“I’ve been living on this rural land for so long that I almost forgot that there are people living in space. Are you someone who’s here to sightsee? There’s nothing much to see around here.”
“No…to someone living in space, it’s a delightful thing to be able to step onto the ground.”
“You’re referring to Earth’s gravity? To people like us, the gravity does inconvenience us in some way. If we can reach space, my feet and waist will more or less feel lighter.”
The owner cleared the utensils clearly and wiped his hands on his aged apron. He still looked healthy and strong, but his hands showed the many years of toil and labor. Mineva spotted a young-looking youth who seemed to be the son of the shop owner, dressed in Federation uniform, on an old photo hanging on the wall, “Have you always been living on Earth, owner?” and tried to ask.
“Yeah, I never left America once ever since I was born. I did go to the orbital path once for a field trip in school when I was young. My wife’s now dead, and I did think of going to space myself…but the money I saved up isn’t enough to pay for the expenses needed to migrate to space.”
“I heard that the Space Migration is still under way, is it not?”
“That thing is like a ship ferrying slaves in the past, set up to ship the illegal residents into space. Unbelievably, it seemed that they knew who didn’t want to go to space too. Someone like me will never be nominated to be moved to space.”
The shop owner laughed with a self-decrying flair as he poured coffee for himself and took a sip. There was no real evidence around, but Mineva could imagine that the son in the photo who set off probably never returned.
“I do feel reluctance about leaving a land I stayed on for many years, but in our era, we heard many tales of the devastation at the end of the old century from our forefathers when we were growing up. There were famines, natural disasters, wars…as bad as it can get. Humanity created the Federation government to escape from that hell, and started to move people to space. Some people said that they were just dumping the poor into space, but many said that they went to space on their own will. They all decided that they would not return to Earth before Earth’s natural environment recovered.”
She had already forgotten about this way of looking at things. The owner did not look at Mineva’s speechless face any further as he turned his sights at the special television program broadcasting the news.
“That Dakar’s just a land people feel will be devoured by the desert within a hundred years. Someone suggested about moving the capital over there after the war, probably to let the officials understand how bad Earth has deteriorated. The natural environment had finally started to recover, but the One Year War caused things to revert to how it was. Some felt that humanity should just move to space entirely and let Earth rest…”
“Are there any people who think this way amongst the Federation government?”
“Yeah, I suppose there was a young and gifted idealist who thought of it this way too…but even after looking at the reality in Dakar, humanity hasn’t changed. The only thing that can be said however is that the desertification is so fast it’s completely beyond expectations, and then they moved the capital to that place called Lhasa in Tibet or something. After it was destroyed by the Neo Zeon terrorist attack, those guys returned back to Dakar to rebuild. In the end, Dakar still ended up as a terrorist target. There doesn’t seem to be a limit to the worrying here.”
“Even if ideals are correct, people’s feelings won’t follow…we’re really hopeless.”
“Those are some deep words you’re saying, Missy. You seem pretty knowledgeable.”
The owner gave a probing expression in his smile. Mineva then realized that she spoke too much and lowered her head.
“But it’s not good for a young person like you to view things this way. I guess it’s best that you remember that all things start from humanity’s good intentions.”
“Humanity’s, good intentions…?”
“The reason why we built the Federation government, why we carried out the space migration plan, all of this was born from the good intention to save humanity and Earth. Those who wanted to stay on Earth and leave the land they were accustomed to their children did it out of their good intentions too. If the notion of wanting the company to earn money, or that of fulfilling the responsibilities we’ve been given are good intentions, then the intention to distinguish ourselves and change our families’ lives are of course good intentions…”
“But that should be called selfishness. It’s that kind of selfishness that ignores everyone else that the Earth—”
“Maybe, but if we deny that good intention, this world is basically darkness.”
The owner wet his lips with the coffee and said calmly. Mineva blinked her eyes, ostensibly caught by the flaw in her thinking.
“Some people suppressed their emotions just to work. That God in the East who abandoned his wife and son and left his house…Buddha, was it? I really can’t like that guy. I hate that Char who sent an asteroid falling down on us. He said that it was for the sake of Earth, for the sake of humanity, but what he did really caused me to wonder if he actually liked humanity before.”
These words rang in Mineva’s ears, seemingly tying down the her now. She could not entrust herself to those warm hands, she could not face the embrace that shrouded her, and she, who could not decide on her foundation, was just running away— “Then, what do you think I should do?” She realized the agitation she let out in her question as she looked at the owner face to face.
“Your question can be answered by those sly answers only adults can do. If I know the answer to that question, I won’t be here as a small diner boss in such a place here.”
The warm smile only an old man could give caused Mineva to relax her pricked nerves. She took a small sigh and gave a light smile.
“I agree with it. Besides, it’s a must to understand our own limitations as humans…”
“That’s true, but it sure is troublesome to hear you as a young person speak like you saw through everything and gave a brief estimation for others, Missy.”
At this moment, the shop owner looked at Mineva right in the eyes and spoke. The latter felt that her cringed self was slapped on the back and gasped.
Right, she was the one who thought that she had seen through everything. She grumbled about the surrounding darkness and cringed, not willing to take the initiative to do anything. She should have known that waiting was not going to work, and light was not going to shine in. “Is that so…you’re right.” She subconsciously muttered and clasped her hands tightly.
“I escaped outside without being restricted, but I thought that I saw through everything, and couldn’t progress on…maybe I’m really just running away…”
The owner frowned with a puzzled look. What I want to do, and what I have to do—these aren’t what I should worry, but rather what I can do now… as Mineva repeated these thoughts in her mind, she silently muttered to herself, telling herself not to run away anymore. At this moment, the coffee cup suddenly rattled, and Mineva looked up at the ceiling.
The deep buzzing sound became more obvious from above, and she could hear that it was the rotors of a helicopter spinning, causing the vibrations to spread within the shop. As the glass windows and other cutlery started to rattle, the owner did not look away from the ceiling as he muttered, “Has the military decided to patrol around here too?”. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The moment she made this decision, the other party came to invite her. She gulped down the cold coffee, “Owner”, called out and got up from her seat. She placed the dining expenses on the counter and stared right at the owner who stared back at her in utter shock.
“The coffee was tasty. I suppose this trip to Earth was worth this cup of coffee alone.”
The spotlights that shone down from the sky dyed the windows inside the shop. The sounds of the vehicles being parked rang continuously, and the sounds of the vehicle doors being opened and closed followed. “You…” the owner spoke as he retreated, and Mineva turned her back to him and faced the diner’s doors. Soon after, the double hinged doors were pushed aside, and several men rushed in with killing intent.
These men were dressed in suits, but Mineva could tell that they had pistols in their suits. It was easy of them to capture her back—no, there had to be something for them to invite her back after letting her escape this far. Once she realized this predicament, she met a man in his forties right in the eyes. The man’s expression did not waver, “Miss Audrey Burne” as he feigned politeness.
“Chairman Ronan is waiting for you. Please follow us back.”
He approached Mineva without revealing any openings, and put his hand on her shoulder. At that moment, the emotions that was vented within Mineva immediately exploded, “How rude.” and a sharp voice came from her mouth,
“I’m Mineva Zabi. I have no intention to run away from hide. Make way.”
The taller man was ostensibly jolted by electricity as he shook his hand off, took a step back, and nearly tumbled. Mineva bowed to the wide-eyed owner behind the counter, walked towards the door, took a breath, and entered the gathered spotlight.
This is good. My time as Audrey Burne has ended. As the heir to the Zabi family, there are many things I have to face. This realization was gradually settled within Mineva’s heart as she let the downwash from the helicopter blow upon her.
“…I have no intention of undermining Londo Bell’s independence. However, though you are an external organization, the fact still remains that you belong to the Federation’s space fleet, right? You have to listen to the order of the Senate chairman.”
Martha spoke as if she was a customer complaining about faulty goods. Her face, which was abnormally bewitching for her age, brought an overly intense flavor to the otherwise bland Captain’s room of the “Ra Cailum”. Bright Noa glanced aside to look at his impatient-looking First Officer Meran, “I have no objections to this order.” and showed a steeled face as he answered.
“The only thing about my personal doubt is regarding why is it that you, a civilian, had to be the one telling me this.”
“Did the Senate Council affirm this with you?”
“Yes. I’ve received notifications to assist the Vist Foundation’s request as much as possible.”
“Then, you have to follow orders. Londo Bell’s a flower without fruit amidst the tired forces in the chaos after the war. Your responsibility should be over once the space army’s reassembled. It should be your responsibility as the commander, Captain Bright, to assign new positions for your subordinates.”
“Oh.”
“If you’re willing to give assistance, I’ll naturally pay you back. Currently, I’ll use this battleship as a test ship for the UC plan, since the backup machines “Jestas” are gathered here as well….as for what kind of future this will bring upon Londo Bell, I suppose you’ll understand.”
Martha continued to sit comfortably on the reception sofa as she raised her foot triumphantly again. “Do you understand?” Bright showed no emotion on his face as he tossed this question to Meran, who answered, “I don’t.” Once he heard his First Officer’s confident reply, Bright felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked at Martha, whose hands on the armrests tensed up as she showed some hastiness in her eyes.
“…You’re really an old fox. I heard from others that you’re a blockhead who doesn’t understand about the affairs of the world. I suppose those useless subordinates of mine were completely fooled.”
Bright had no intention of denying or admitting this. Martha stared at this tight-lipped man for several seconds before sighing, and said, “Anyway, please listen to our side’s instructions.” before turning away immediately.
“Let me tell you this beforehand, it’s useless to hope for Chairman Ronan’s authority. Things were settled without you knowing, Captain.”
I don’t have to answer you regarding what you don’t know. She conveyed this message silently, frowned, gave a chilling glance, and turned her body, dressed in a violet suit around as she left the Captain’s room. Bright immediately relaxed the strength in his shoulders, and Meran realized the sigh he kept within for a long time.
“Good grief…that devil’s just like how she’s described.”
“But she’s anxious. That “Gundam” pilot has been keeping quiet whenever he was asked about information regarding the “Box”.”
Banagher Links, was it? Bright recalled the face of the boy who was ostensibly the “Gundam” pilot, and released his uniform collar. “What do we do?” Meran asked a meaningful question.
“It seems that her words about Chairman Ronan being controlled aren’t just a bluff. If the news about the Dakar incident and the “Box” are revealed, the Senate Council that had been assisting the Vist Foundation all this time won’t be able to stand up. The financial world is better than the political world in terms of manipulating the media.”
“If things may end up causing a scandal that involves the entire army, the aides supporting the Senate Council can only shut up…is this what you mean?”
“Yes. The Dakar Incident gave the Foundation an unexpected excuse. It doesn’t seem like that mobile suit, the “Banshee” was calibrated, but they brought it along too.”
He got up from the sofa and switched the monitor panel behind the office table to the external surveillance. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was docked 20km away offshore from Dakar, and one could still see the trails of dust remaining on the horizon. After two days of confirmation, the number of definite casualties had risen to more than 40,000, and this number continued to increase bit by bit even at this point. The shadows flying about the city were most probably the firefighters and the media. it was said that the relief squads had already deployed helicopters equipped with heat sensors from all over the world, just to find survivors buried under the rubble.
The same situation goes for the inside of the ship, as there was no time to rest. After confirming the casualties, sending in relief aid and doing all sorts of assistance, everyone realized that two days of work had just passed by. However, these seemed to have nothing to do with Martha. It was fine if it was just letting a mobile suit dock with the active squad, but she insisted that the ship was to follow her orders, and Bright gave an absolutely correct answer, saying that “The law never specified that we can move a government’s properly for private purposes”. She came to the Captain’s room to voice her misgivings, leading to the commotion from before. Since Ronan was exercising his authority as the vice-chairman of the Senate, Martha overruled this by using her authority as the Senate chairman, and he ended up being involved in this childish fight over power he inadvertently got involved in. At the rate this situation continued, perhaps one side would probably use the name of the prime minister?
“The Foundation and the Settlement Issues Council is having a tug-of-war with the Senate Council as the stage…what is that “Laplace Box”, for them to go to this extent?”
All the abnormalities started from that point. “I don’t know.” Bright rubbed his eyes and said as he turned to Meran.
“It seemed that the “Nahel Argama” was chasing the “Box” before the job got handed to us, but…”
“We can’t make contact with them? If they can testify against the ploys by the Foundation and the Senate Council, we may be able to turn the wills of those supporting the Council.”
“That’s a little difficult. The “Nahel Argama” is controlled directly by the Senate Council, and they’re banned from contacting their original regiment. If we resist the order, the command of Londo Bell may be moved by the Senate Council. It’s frustrating, but the fact remains that the space army wants Londo bell dissolved.”
It was just like what Martha pointed out. Londo Bell was a flower without fruit in the organization called the military, fatigued by the internal conflicts after the war—this temporary squad that was built to prevent Neo Zeon from rising again suddenly had a very heavy outsider flair. At this point, when the space army realignment plan was ready, many aides felt endangered by the massive discretionary power Londo Bell was granted. If there was a slight misstep, they would definitely use this chance to raise a large purge. “Besides, it’s not interesting to have the Foundation and the Council fight it out themselves.” Bright continued and sat back on the chair. He clasped his hands and continued to let his thumbs touch as he asked himself, What shall I do?
“…Looks like we can only work on our own?”
The answer was already out. Well, I‘ve been living this kind of life all this while. Bright closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, “Meran”, and lifted his determined face.
“Contact the Luio Chamber of Commerce. Don’t use the basic wireless in the ship; send a private mail to them.”
“The Luio Chamber of Commerce, as in the company based in New Hong Kong…?”
“That’s considered a top-notch company on earth, but it does deal with all sorts of business behind the scenes. There’s someone we can contact. Send the message to the media relations branch, and mark the recipient as “Hayato Kobayashi of the Audhumla”.”
Meran frowned for a short moment, but answered, “I’ll prepare the document” and stamped his heels together; however, he showed a relieved look on his face because there was a decision made. First, we will have to obtain the correct information, or we won’t be able to think of a plan to escape this ugly political battle. There’s no option of bowing to authority here. Bright, lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly stepped into a little ditch—and once Meran left the room, he slumped into his chair and put his eyes upon a deceased’s portrait.
“Don’t you dare laugh!”
Commander Amuro Ray’s photo did not say anything as it showed what looked like a wry smile back at him.
There was also an interrogation room in the battleship. The room that was used to interrogate prisoners or crew that broke the military rules was suspiciously similar to a setting in a movie, but there was a presence that indicated that this was not the case. The room that was 3m wide had a table for interrogating and a table for recording. The recording table had a terminal that was used for quick note-taking, and the interrogating table, naturally, had a moveable desk lamp. It was a piece of equipment used to shine upon the face of the suspect. But even after seeing all these things, he could not feel a sense of realism here.
As for this lack of realism, the fact that his hands were cuffed was a weird thing to him to too. He was interrogated by the Federation army and the Neo Zeon army before this, but both sides only prompted him to tell the truth, confirm the situation with him, and never gave him a vibe that they would raise their voices. This was the first time he was being interrogated for real—no, or rather, this was the first time he remained silent for so long. The handcuff chains that were shorter than he imagined rattled. It’s the sound of metal, Banagher Links thought blankly in his mind, and lifted his face that was less swollen. The interrogator’s stoic face could be seen from the other side of the bright desk lamp.
“It’s about time that you obey us now, right?”
The man’s voice showed a dumbfounded flair rather than anger or anxiousness. If this hulking man’s words were to be believed, he was in his forties, and used to be part of an elite squad in the past, the Titans. During the peak of the Zeon purge craze after the war, he used to torture a few suspects to death, and ended up dismissed from the military as a result. After that, this man was employed by the Vist Foundation. Leaving aside whether his words were true or not, his thin lips were showing the cruelty of an officer, and thus, Banagher tried his best to avoid seeing the other man’s face.
“Get into the cockpit of the “Unicorn” and bring out the data from the Laplace Program. It’s that simple. Just follow what you’re told to do, and you can get your freedom. We won’t pursue you about getting involved with the military’s top secret stuff or that you once assisted Neo Zeon. I feel this condition isn’t bad.”
The man sat on the chair with his waist tilted down and used his index finger to tap the finger. Banagher predicted what the other party would do next, and quietly gathered strength in his stomach. As he expected, the man kicked the table aside, “TALK!” and yelled, his voice echoing throughout the cramped room.
“If you think that you won’t be treated too severely just because you’re a kid, you’re in for a grave mistake here. In an adult’s society, we don’t show mercy to anyone we suspect to be an enemy. No matter whether that person is a woman or a child, we will torture thoroughly until the suspect comes clean. You took a military mobile suit on your own, joined the Neo Zeon ranks, and got arrested in flagrante delicto after taking part in the Dakar terrorist incident in the end. There’s no room for mercy here. If we hand you over to the military, you’ll be in jail for the rest of your life.”
Banagher heard the same things the previous day. If one were to link things that way, it was true that they could be explained that way. He, who had no intention of defending himself, turned his face to the man.
“The Neo Zeon cargo ship you rode on has escaped, and now you don’t have any place to return to. We are the only ones who can save you here. It’s too stupid to give up your life just for this kind of thing.”
The man’s voice suddenly became gentle, perhaps because he thought he got what he wanted. This kind of pampering tone really annoys me, and I’m able to be stubborn till this point. Banagher thought carelessly as he ignored the man and looked away from him. At this moment, the man slammed the table hard and yelled,
“WHO ARE YOU KEEPING THIS SECRET FOR!? YOU LITTLE—”
“That’s enough.”
Another voice could be heard, and the man shut up. The man sitting at the recording table got up, and his stout and fat body appeared amidst the light.
“Leave here for a moment. I want to talk with him for a while.”
Alberto Vist’s face was shown from bottom to top, and his body showed an unnerving shadow as he looked down at Alberto. The man clicked his tongue and glared angrily at Banagher for a while before he got up, walked by Alberto, and went pass the door of the room. The “Ra Cailum” had in practice become a personal ship for the Vist Foundation, so there was no crew member around for the questioning. The interrogation itself was not carried out by an officer, so naturally, there wouldn’t be a timekeeper accompanying. Once the man left, Banagher and Alberto were the only two people left inside. Of course, the men of the Foundation should be keeping their eyes wide as they as they look inside the monitor room through the camera through the camera on the ceiling.
Banagher had a vague feeling that the reason why he felt a bit mindful was because there was a hidden gravity linking him and Alberto. This man had the same father as him—and at this point, this was the only thing he knew of. He toyed with this relationship that seemed so surreal to him in his mouth, and looked back at Alberto’s face right in front of him. Just like their meeting on the “Nahel Argama”, Alberto’s collar was flipped slightly out of his obviously tight collar, and turned his blue eyes at Banagher.
“You’re protecting this secret for Cardeas Vist…your father?”
The back of Alberto’s chair let out a creaking sound before he slowly spoke up. Is that the case? Banagher pondered for a while, but before he could answer, he looked away from the other man.
“You’re really amazing. You have a strong will, you have guts, and even the sense of piloting the “Unicorn” is gifted to you. It seems that the Laplace Program’s data can’t be extracted without your neurowaves. Even if we tie you down to the cockpit, nobody else can read the data as long as you don’t agree. When did you learn how to operate it like that?”
Banagher himself was not sure. When Alberto barged into the cockpit, his first immediate thought was to switch off, and did not react because he understood the system. “Seriously, you’re made too perfectly.” Alberto sighed as he put his elbows on the table.
“You give the look like you don’t understand anything, but you’re always in the center of everything. The situation’s changed according to your will; you’re just like a natural king here, so perfect that it feels disgusting. What was unsealed might not be the Laplace Program, but you.”
These words were unexpected and ominous. Banagher inadvertently looked up, and Alberto seized this opportunity as his fat cheeks sneered.
“Don’t you find it weird? You’re too perfect already. As expected of an enhanced human Cardeas created.”
“Enhanced…human?”
Perhaps you’re the same kind as me.—Marida’s voice, which he heard some time before, suddenly awoke deep within his ears, and he felt goosebumps all over him. “Am I wrong?” Alberto said as his sneer intensified.
“When you were in the Vist family, I was in a boarding school, so I don’t know how Cardeas raised you, but…you said before that you don’t have any memories of that time, right?”
That was something Banagher let slip from his mouth the previous day. He again turned his silent stare at Alberto.
“Perhaps you feel that you sealed your own memories. But do you feel that an ordinary person can do this? If your talent wasn’t spotted by Cardeas, and if you were trained before you were matured—”
“THAT’S NOT THE CASE!”
He yelled out to shake off the chill, and the sound overpowered the sounds of the air-conditioning and the machine, rumbling the air within the room. Banagher did not look at Alberto’s face as the latter twitched his eyebrows, and instead stared at his hands that were handcuffed.
“Whenever I think about the past…about dad, mom, I’ll feel sad…that’s why I told myself to keep forgetting about them, forget about everything, until I really could not think of anything…that’s all.”
“If you’re able to forget your past just like that, it’s proof that you’re not ordinary. You’re an Cyber-Newtype created by Cardeas.”
“No! You’re wrong! The relationship between parent and child isn’t like that! If that’s the case, aren’t you a human created by Cardeas too?”
Alberto gasped and muttered, “What…” as his face looked sinister. Banagher stared right back at him in the eyes.
“The one entrusting, the one being entrusted…it’s because we’re father and son that we can love or hate, right? I can’t live like we don’t have any relation to each other, si I…”
Banagher swallowed the latter half of his words and he looked down. That’s why I can seal my memories too, and that’s why I can even recognize him as my father in such a short time, and got bounded down by his last words. This isn’t about theory, this isn’t about my own specifications. This troublesome thing called blood relations isn’t something that can be cleared through knowledge alone— “So, what are you trying to say?” Alberto uttered these words and turned his impatient face to the side.
“What parent and son, what blood relations…those are just biological definitions. There are still other things humans have to protect first.”
Alberto got up after saying these words, ostensibly trying to convince himself. This isn’t something he understood from his heart. Banagher instinctively sensed this as he looked at the back of Alberto’s pudgy body.
“What’s the so called “Laplace Box”? It’s an order. The world’s rules can continue to run with the secret beliefs in this “Box”. It’s like a common delusion, an existence that guards people from their selfishness. Once we lose it, the Vist Foundation will not be the only thing that can’t continue. The gears running the world up till now will lose control too. The Dakar incident was one proof of this. If Cardeas never intended on opening the “Box”, that incident would never have happened. After the chaos of the One Year War, we learned the tactics on how to control war.”
The shadow formed by the lamp caused the slightly arched back to look heinous. That’s the back of someone scared of something. This thought flashed through Banagher’s mind as he recognized this.
“After this, the organizations under the name of Zeon will be annihilated entirely, actual aliens will be the only enemies left for the Federation, and the situation won’t change. There is an instinct to fight within humans; as long as society continues to rely on the differences in hierarchy, wars will never disappear from the world. Even if we don’t deliberately scatter these seeds, humans can still find any excuses for war, whether they’re tensions in governments or occasional battles. Gears to drive the economy, a catharsis that can purge the instinct to fight; without these two factors, humans will continue to start full-scale worlds. This is a symptom of ill-management of humanity, and it’s impossible to cure them. We can only think of ways to live with our bad habits.”
If there’s a society where war is regulated, where we believe that terrorism and grudges can be managed, won’t we end up subduing people’s hearts. Won’t we end up creating more people like Mahdi Garvey? Banagher thought subconsciously, but he did not say it out. Alberto again returned to the chair facing him, and his eyes that were looking right at Banagher had a dull glint in them.
“Do you understand? We don’t view war as our food. It’s because of the Foundation and Anaheim controlling war that humans can avoid the fate of destroying each other after the wars, and managed to hang on. Cardeas however wanted to break this order, and you’re helping him to break it. Your father’s shadow buried within your heart is driving you and the “Unicorn”. Think about it carefully. What’s the point of protecting this secret for Cardeas’ sake? Even if a kid like you leaves the “Box” alone, there won’t be any benefit. You’ll just cause misfortune to everyone around you. You better treat this as a final advice from a blood relative—”
“Where is Miss Marida?”
Banagher let a voice so calm even he was surprised by, and was unable to speak. At this point, Alberto looked like he was taken aback in a critical area as he immediately looked away. Banagher however continued to stare at him and ask, “Miss Marida should be with you on Earth. Where is she now?”, and the latter suddenly gave a fidgety look as he looked back, “This has nothing to do with you.” sounding vague as he answered.
“Instead of talking about this, you should be understanding your own situation here—”
“I am thinking…! But is this something that I can decide with my own mind, right? I guess not, right?”
He subconsciously moved his hand and tapped the bottom of the table, creating a deep sound from below. Alberto cringed his body back slightly and turned his suspicious and fearful look back at Banagher.
“Up till now, the many people who got involved with me…including those who helped me, those who fought against me to the death, they all helped me become who I am. Even Cardeas…even dad, he’s just one of them.”
Banagher gritted his teeth and reached his tightly clenched fists onto the table. The chain of the handcuff let out a hard sound, and caused a slight tremor in the dim space of the interrogation room without a trace.
“Even now, I can sense that Miss Marida is somewhere nearly. She’s not the only one though; Audrey, Ensign Riddhe, Captain, Miss Loni, Mr Daguza, I can feel them too…I’m frustrated about this, but even you are someone I can sense. I have to find an answer everyone can accept before I can make a decision for the “Box”. That’s because I…”
Have to fulfill my responsibility—“I have to do this.” This line alone caused him to be bound together with others. That foreign sense spread within his heart, and he barely managed to swallow the latter half of his words as a result. In the end, is this line something I realized in my heart? Banagher gathered his consciousness in a corner of my temples, but he did not sense that pulsation. Once he affirmed that this was definitely his thought, he tried to think about that question again. What is myself?
An individual unit can’t accomplish anything, and this unstable existence definitely can’t form words. He can only relate with his parents, with others, before he can build his own self existence as he knows the world…or rather, “discover” it. If that were the case, the way I can feel everyone entering my heart isn’t a hallucination here, but that my original self won’t be killed off like this. What’s resonating and changing is the existence called “self”, and this sense that continues to expand may be the real nature behind Newtypes.
That’s why dad never told me to what I should do, but told me to do what I feel I have to do before entrusting me the “Unicorn”. He also entrusted the possibility of human change in me—but what if these souls I can feel can be adjusted by human means…? As he continued to think about things in a roundabout way, Banagher shuddered with fear and clasped his trembling fists together. Alberto turned his silent stare on the other party for a while and muttered, “That’s the curse binding you…just like the brainwashing of a Cyber-Newtype. How pitiful.” He did not look at Banagher in the eyes as he got up from his seat.
“Well, whatever. Even if you aren’t willing, you’ll be forced to comply anyway. Try and find those things you deem as answers before that moment arrives.”
These assured remarks caused Banagher’s hairs to stare. He gave a suspicious look back at Alberto for a moment, and the latter proceeded to reach his hand for the door.
“Really. You’re designed too perfectly. It’s really annoying.”
He gave a piercing glance before stepping through the door. The door panel that closed up immediately let out an abnormally loud sound, causing Banagher’s body and mind to let out a jerk as he remained alone in the dim room. He put his clasped hands on his table and slumped weakly on the table. Alberto’s shoulder figure still remained in his eyes, and Banagher felt tormented that the impression Alberto gave him was not completely dissimilar to Cardeas.
(…We can count ourselves lucky to be able to get back a single “Zee Zulu”. The incident in Dakar caused all the patrol fleets roaming around the colonies to gather on Earth’s orbit. The “Garencieres” has to leave Earth as soon as possible and leave the absolute defense zone until the preliminary stage is set up.)
The intensity of the scattered Minovsky particles was set at a very low level, but the communication feed of the ship as it moved through the atmosphere was still very bad. Due to the static, the expression on Full Frontal’s face, shown on the console’s communication monitor, was less visible than usual. Suberoa Zinnerman felt the plaster at the end of his eyes tighten, “Yes…” and answered. He could tell that Alec and Flaste, seated on the steering seat and navigation seat respectively, were pricking their ears from behind their seats.
(The Federation has increased their surveillance frequency, and this communication signal may be tapped on. Please tell me the new coordinates data you received from the Psyco Monitor, captain.)
“The “Unicorn” has fallen into the Federation’s hands. I suppose the enemy has already known this new information.”
(Despite so, the “Ra Cailum” that reclaimed the “Unicorn” seems to be moving very slowly. It seems that there was a mishap that caused them to lose this new information. Currently, luck still remains on our side.)
The lips below the mask showed a twisted smile as Frontal concluded. He, who gathered the Neo Zeon fleet, was looking down at the commotion on Earth from his flagship, the “Rewloola”. It seemed that the report from the Zeon supporters who got into the political world had already reached his ears at the first moment. Once the Vist Foundation, currently on the “Ra Cailum”, use more of their political power to force the high ranking government officials to submit, the more information would be leaked through the political route. Besides, those Senators who once benefited from the Garvey Enterprise’s business dealings were being investigated privately, and as nobody knew when they would be pursued to take responsibility, there was a tense atmosphere permeating throughout. Without know what kind of changes there would be the next day, people would start to talk due to this restlessness. Whether the entire Federation army finished sorting out their investigations, it probably would not be hard for the “Garencieres” to force an escape route out.
But to Zinnerman, this currently was not an important thing. It had been 2 and a half day since that incident, and the Federation military’s security on all of Earth’s ground was already elevated to combat level. The Zeon forces everywhere were already being shut down, and at this point, it was not just one or two guerilla groups being eliminated. Even the “Garencieres” had to hide from the satellite surveillance in the skies above the Euro-Asia continent before finally managing to establish contact with the “Rewloola”. The amount of fuel they had left was less than 3 days’ worth, and since there was no place left for them to resupply, they had no choice other than to retreat back to space with their tails between their legs. However, from the conversation he had with Frontal, Zinnerman managed to hear out on any other possible related information.
The “Rewloola” in space did not receive the relay signal from the Psyco Monitor. In other words, at this point, only the “Garencieres” had the coordinates data indicated by the “Unicorn”—Zinnerman kept his face from showing the hint of this possibility on his face as he met Frontal in the eyes through the monitor. “Then, it doesn’t matter even if we leave the “Unicorn” alone?” He asked with an emotionless expression on his face.
(Of course, we’ll send other people to grasp its whereabouts. We can’t be sure that the data from the “Unicorn” will be intercepted. I have already prepared other ships with Psyco Monitors to follow in place of the “Garencieres”. You just have to consider bringing the information back.)
Was I seen through? The ostensibly deliberate reminding voice caused Zinnerman to have this fleeting doubt, and he let loose of all other thoughts as he looked back at Frontal again. He gripped onto the Captain’s armrest that would not be shown on the monitor, “May I ask you about something?” and cautiously asked.
(What is it?)
“Why did you choose to support Mahdi Garvey’s battle?”
Flaste and Alec both turned their faces around in surprise from behind the console, but Zinnerman merely continued to look at Frontal on the monitor. (Are you unhappy about it?) the masked face asked, “No”, and Zinnerman responded, giving a looking indicating that he was the one asking the question.
(That truly wasn’t a wise operation.) After two, three seconds of silence, Frontal answered quietly. (If the fact that Neo Zeon took part in this operation was revealed, the losses on our side will surely be significantly. However, Captain, the Federation had never taken this much damage since the asteroid drop 3 years ago. What I want to see is how defiant the public is against the Federation.)
“The public…against the Federation?”
(Leaving aside the Spacenoids, there are also Zeon followers amongst Earthnoids. However, they could only declare their unhappiness by showing their anti-establishment. What will happen of those people see the one-sided brutal massacre on Neo Zeon’s side? What exactly will be the response when those people hear the news that it’s not a colony or an asteroid being dropped, but a massacre where humans can be heard screaming from close range…? I hope to use this chance to be sure by using the “Descendant of Dubai” as a cushion of the impact. This is to help determine the new direction for Neo Zeon once we get the “Laplace Box” in the future.)
The thin smile under the mask resonated with Mineva’s voice as she said, “He’s a dangerous man”. At this moment, Zinnerman felt a certain tense emotion breaking within him, and the balance that was swaying side to side had tilted to one side. “I see. Understood.” he kept a still expression as he answered. Frontal’s eyes under the anti-glare filter let loose a probing expression, (I’ll await your return), and he disappeared from the monitor.
This was already within Zinnerman’s expectations, but the masked face had already thrown aside the guilt from its conscience and its hesitation, showing no signs of remorse at all—and even brazenly in front of his subordinates that he was experimenting with public opinion in such a mocking tone. He felt a very indifferent chill rather than fatigue, and clasped his hands together as he leaned on the back of the captain’s seat. “Is this okay?” Flaste asked with a meaningful smile.
“You don’t look pleased at all, captain.”
“You’re the one who said that you want to know what Frontal’s hiding, not me, right?”
Zinnerman glared back, and Flaste shrugged as he turned forward. Alec moved his large body that even the steering seat could not fit as he looked at Zinnerman and asked, “Then , what do we do now?”. The latter closed his eyes, called back the thoughts he suppressed only a moment again, “Change our course.” and declared with his tone being that of a captain.
“True bearing 182. Avoid the sights from the satellites and move to the south Pacific.”
Alec blinked his eyes in surprise, showing doubt, and Flaste beside him was tapping at his fingers, looking like if he expected this. if they were planning to mouth above the equator in order to fly into space, he would not mention the Pacific when he gave this command. “Aren’t we going back to space?” Alec asked, but Zinnerman did not look at him as he looked over at the clouds outside the window in front of him.
“We haven’t saved the princess and Marida yet; we can’t leave just like this.”
“But, our fighting strength alone—”
“You want to go back?” Flaste glared at Alec, seemingly ready to chastise the latter by saying, You really don’t know anything. “The Captain never mentioned anything about the Princess, let alone Marida.”
Are you serious? On realizing this, Alec gasped, and his originally suspicious stare at Zinnerman became one of reluctance as he turned his head to the front. It did not matter whether they could do it or not. Ever since the end of the First Neo Zeon War, the “Garencieres” had been protecting Mineva during the rocky times, and to them, the option to leave her behind and return to the “Sleeves” base never existed. There were a lot of things in Zinnerman’s mind that he could not part away from; Mineva, Marida and the “Unicorn” that was the equivalent of the key to the “Box”. “There’s always an order of priority to things”, he said as he scratched his hard beard on his chin.
“It’s true that we can’t do anything now. Right now, all the government organizations have upped their security.”
“Then…”
“Let’s get back the “Unicorn”.”
Zinnerman’s determined tone caused Alec to turn his speechless face around. “We can use that as a trade bait to the Federation for the Princess and Marida. Since they don’t have the data on the “Box”, this works for us.” Zinnerman continued, and Flaste whistled at him as he answered,
“Sounds good. This is how the Garencieres team move. However, it’ll be hard to take action on the “Ra Cailum”.”
“This is worth a shot. Tell Tunick to focus on the satellite feed, and don’t miss out on any of the “Ra Cailum”s actions.”
They’re like us here, they can’t possibly be flying forever. If we focus on their movements, we’ll definitely get a change to take action. First, we have to gather our fighting strength. Zinnerman thought as he summoned the map of the South Pacific sea charts on the monitor. “What do we do with the brat?” and then, he heard Alec’s question.
“Of course we’re going to get them all. That package’s worth more here, right captain?”
And just like before, when both of them were sitting and fighting with their stares, Flaste said this with a meaningful look in his heads. Zinnerman recalled Banagher Links eyes that were etched in his, and made an unhappy frown on his still swollen face, “Depends on the situation.” as he briefly replied. Flaste gave a bitter smile on his face and retreated behind the back of the navigation seat. soon after the order to change navigation path was made, the sea of clouds outside the window started to flow sideways quickly.
The “Garencieres” turned its triangular prism ship shape around as it drew a wide arc above the clouds and quickly moved to the southern sea. The ship looked as fast as ever as it escaped the perimeter set by the “sleeves”, and the sun that was dazzling radiantly was the only thing watching over their whereabouts.
The large body of the black “Unicorn”, kept within the hangar, looked like it was able to shake the air around it, and the demonic presence it gave was reminiscent of an ancient Eastern demonic sword. Like the “Unicorn” lined beside it, the hangar was surrounded with rope preventing entry, and the specifically designated guards from the Vist Foundation were the ones surrounding them. The rumors that they were still undergoing adjustments seemed to be true, as there were sensors attached to the gondola at the abdomen, and a large number of cables were snaking out from the cockpit. Instead of saying that it was maintenance, it was probably more apt to call it an ‘experiment’. Sub-Lieutenant Watts Stepney looked up at it, “I heard it’s called the “Banshee”.” and nonchalantly said.
“It’s the second unit of the white guy, tested under gravitational conditions. The ones being beside the machine all day seem to be the members of the Augusta Newtype Research Institute.”
“Newtype research? Wasn’t that sealed up long ago?”
Sub-Lieutenant Nigel McGusiness, who had been listening beside, asked back. At this moment, “It’s because it’s not sealed that those guys are here.” Watts answered, seemingly believing in not thinking too much with regards to unexpected situations. Lieutenant Nigel Garrett stood beside both of them as he leaned on the handrail of the catwalk, and after seeing his handsome face, Riddhe held in his sigh as he looked at the “Banshee”. He could see the two Unicorn-type mobile suits lined on the wall opposite from the catwalk inside the mobile suit deck.
It seemed that the mobile suit deck of the “Ra Cailum” was over its capacity as it was docked with the 12 “Jestas” it could contain , the “Delta Plus” and the two “Unicorns”. It was possible to contain these machines only by using the overhaul space deep within the bow and the rear deck that was used for staring the Base Jabbers. The back of the deck was used to store the transport carrier of the “Banshee”, the “DO-DAI”, which took up a lot of space. In the end, the contingent from the Vist Foundation showed no regards for anyone else, and even set up a forbidden entry zone in a corner of the deck. It was to be expected that Nigel and the other original crew were to feel repulsed by it. The mechanics moving around would show looks of hidden motives, and the atmosphere within the ship was as unfriendly as it could deck.
If there was work, they could at least distract themselves, but the “Delta Plus”, which overexerted itself during the previous battle, was moved to the overhaul space, and the assigned chief mechanic, Sergeant Hanna, was currently carrying out full disassembly. Until the unit became humanoid, there was nothing Riddhe could do, and he could only give a glum look together with the Tri-Stars and stare at the unique machines with lone horns. I should have brought the model along, he carelessly thought about this out of a sudden. He could not contact his father who seemed to be on his way to Dakar, and could not meet Banagher, confined within the ship, as he wanted to. He could not do anything, and did not know his situation. Might as well turn my back on everything—
“Haven’t you heard of anything, lord Ensign?”
The burly Watts did not realize Riddhe’s feelings at all as he gave a gruff voice befitting his body build. “About those white and black mobile suits, are they not related to the orders the Senate Council gave you directly?”
“I don’t know. Those guys really annoy me too.”
“And you have the cheek to say that. Isn’t there an order in the ship to secure that white gy?”
“I heard that it launched from a Neo Zeon ship. Didn’t your “Delta Plus” work with it to defeat that mobile armor? It’s really too unbelievable to hear you say that you don’t know know anything.”
Daryl too followed up on this conversation. Riddhe withstood the urge to click his tongue as he looked back at both of them. “Is that the mobile suit in the UC plan?” but Nigel interrupted, causing Riddhe’s heart to race.
“It’s written on the shoulder.”
Nigel leaned beside the handrail as he pointed his chin, and Riddhe looked over at where he pointed. Over there, the words “Project UC” were clearly indicated on the right shoulder armor of the “Unicorn”. Daryl casually added on, “Ah, that’s true.” And Riddhe slumped onto the wall weakly.
“If it’s designed to fight with this guy, then there’s a reason for the extremely high specs o the “Jestas”. Most likely, they’re meant to move beside this guy and clear up all the small fry while this guy charges right at the enemy’s core…like a Newtype controlling Psycommu weapons, for example.”
After hearing Nigel’s plausible deduction, “What, now we’re its prey?” Watts grumbled as he twisted his lips, while Daryl said, “That’s not right, isn’t it? We were planned to be the test pilots for this thing.” How much has Nigel observed regarding this? The Tri-stars captain merely spoke calmly, “It might be a good thing we aren’t the test pilots.” as he did not pay heed to Riddhe’s probing glance from beside.
“This guy’s mobility isn’t normal when it transforms into a “Gundam”. A normal pilot probably won’t last 5 minutes in it. It’s impossible to design it to such a ridiculous extent if it wasn’t planned to be piloted by Cyber-Newtypes in the first place.”
“Cyber-Newtypes…” Daryl’s face suddenly turned pale as he muttered this. “With those guys from the Newtype research institute around, I guess you’re right.” Nigel however said nonchalantly; Riddhe followed his stare and looked at the cockpit from the cockpit. He could see a human silhouette in full black pilot suit from between the gaps formed by the sensors on the gondola. The pilot’s appearance was covered by the helmet visor that was pulled down, but the slender figure could be distinguished from the pilot suit. The pilot looked weak, but the physical body was giving off a certain hardiness, reminiscent of a puppet with a spring inside.
Is that a woman? Riddhe looked at that machine-like pilot’s body, and as he leaned his body over the handrail, there was a short and stout man with a contrasting figure there, blocking his sights. It seemed that Alberto sensed Riddhe’s stare as he gave an antagonistic glare as he put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder and brought her into the cockpit. Riddhe originally thought that he was merely a high-ranking person in the Anaheim Electronics company, but he was an important member of the Vist Foundation. That man, who boarded the ship with the chairperson called Martha, had taken the ship and the “Unicorn” as his personal property. What in the world is dad doing now? Riddhe grumbled deep within his heart. He let the people of the Vist Foundation interrupt, so why hasn’t he given me any instructions yet? This is a chance to snatch the “Box” from the Foundation and release the world from the 100 year curse. I abandoned everything and came here in order to pay for the Marcenas’ sin—
“You mean that if we end up becoming this thing’s pilot, we might end up being enhanced…?”
Watts whispered as he looked at the back of the pilot who disappeared behind the cockpit hatch. There was already a rumor amongst pilots that a Cyber-Newtype was a synonym of being a vegetable. Then what about Banagher? Riddhe pondered, and then shook off this question without an answer before it exploded his head, and lifted his head at the sound of a machine being activated as it rang throughout the deck. The large shutter leading to the aft landing deck was opening slowly.
The air became wind due to the difference in air pressure, and it flowed into the gap of the shutter that was being opened. As Nigel’s slightly long hair swayed with the wind, Riddhe, who was standing beside him, spotted a small jet on the other side of the shutter. The moveable jet engines below the wings stood vertically, and the machine that was being towed in by a tractor unit entered the mobile suit deck.
“That’s a civilian craft.”
“Seriously. We sure have a lot of guests coming in.”
Watts and Daryl looked dumfounded as they commented, while Nigel continued to give an unceremonious observing look. Riddhe felt shocked as he too looked down at the approximately 10m long mini jet. The mini jet stopped in the middle of the deck with mobile suits overlooking it on both left and right side, and the mechanics immediately ran towards it. the wheels stopped, and once the hatch on one side of the jet opened, Riddhe could see men in black suits walking down the ladder, before a familiar face followed as it appeared in his sights.
“Mineva…?”
Riddhe nudged aside his heart, which was beating loudly as he bent half his body over the handrail. He could see a proud-looking girl flanked by men in suits on both front and back as she walked down the ladder. Why is she here? He felt dizzy as his blank mind suddenly had this thought. She should be at home. I came here to ensure her safety. Why is she showing herself here? Why is she looking so tense? It’s like she was forcefully brought here—
“AUDREY! AUDREY BURNE!”
The fact that Riddhe did not call out Mineva’s name here proved that his sanity was still functioning at least. By the time he realized it, Riddhe had already yelled out, and was starting to wave at the mini-jet parked approximately 50m away from the aft. This alone however wasn’t enough for him, and he immediately rushed out. “What’s going on?” “Is she someone he knows?” he left behind Watts and the rest as he dashed to the end of the catwalk. He could identity Mineva’s chestnut-colored from the back of the “Jesta” fastened on the hangar, her appearance clearly etched in his eyes.
Why must you come here? You can’t stay here? There’s a malicious intent to make use of you swirling here! Riddhe poked his body from the end of the catwalk, “AUDREY!” but his voice was gone with the wind. He could not bring himself to waste any time further by clicking his tongue as he immediately dashed off to the nearest airlock. If he wanted to move from the catwalk to the deck, he would have to first return back inside the ship, move through the passages, ride the elevator or use the ladder. The ship’s construct that was designed for zero gravity use had never made him as spiteful as this moment.
Mineva suddenly sensed someone calling out for her, and lifted her head.
The mobile suit deck for any ship that was built looked all too similar. In this wide space, approximately 30m in height and 50m in width, the mobile suits docked in the hangar were lined up like Buddha statues. A lot of the machines’ paint was worn off, probably because they were involved in quite a few actual combat situations, and the welding sparks could be seen scattered. She could immediately tell that they were Federation mobile suits, machines with chiseled shoulders standing beside each other, and the emotionless eyes covered with goggles were staring at the wall over it.
Am I thinking too much here? Mineva looked around, and let out a soft sigh. At this moment, a foreign looking object appeared in her sight, causing her to stop. At the only area where a perimeter was set up, the spotlight was on the horn of a certain mobile suit’s forehead, dazzling brightly—
“A black “Unicorn”…?”
There was a golden horn atop the pitch black shiny armor, and Mineva could not find any other appropriate vocabulary to describe it. Right beside it was the familiar white “Unicorn”, lined side by side with it, and the facemask giving off a certain regal presence was facing the space opposite it. the reason why it looked more slender as compared to the first impression was most probably because of the overly savage look of the black “Unicorn”. The pitch black machine with golden ornaments on the armor gave it an appearance beyond that of rigor. Unlike the “Unicorn”, which had a certain comforting harmonic feeling to it, it gave a feeling of indifference, not willing to communicate with anyone. it was most likely that they originated from the same place, and these two machines that could be called sister units actually looked so different…
Since the “Unicorn” is here, Banagher should be somewhere inside this ship, right? Mineva again looked around, only to be greeted by a female voice, “Welcome, Your Highness Mineva Zabi.” She turned her face around, and found a middle-aged woman dressed in violet suit standing right in front of her, with several men awaiting behind her.
“I’m the substitute leader of the Vist Foundation, Martha Vist Carbine. The long journey has certainly been tough on you.”
The woman said this as she bowed politely; however, her condescending expression was completely different from her tone. This is the daughter of the Vist family who married into the Anaheim Electronics chairman’s family, and if I remember correctly, she should be Cardeas’ little sister. Mineva recalled the information that was investigated before she left Neo Zeon, and at this moment, the woman who called herself Martha took a step forward slowly, her thick perfume scent teasing Mineva’s nose.
“You’re really young and pretty. This is the inside of a battleship, but please relax, Your Highness, we’ll ensure your personal safety.”
“Does Senator Ronan Marcenas know about this?”
Once she was brought back to the mansion, Mineva did not have the chance to meet Ronan at all as she was jettisoned off to the plane and sent all the way here. She knew that the jet was sent over from the Vist Foundation, but she did not know what sort of dealing Ronan had with the Foundation, and she did not know the reason why she was brought onto this Federation ship at all. She realized that she did not know the name of this ship at all when she spoke up cautiously. “Of course.” However, Martha answered, her deliberate smile not wavering at all.
“We’re moving with the same objective as Senator Ronan. This should be your wish itself too, Your Highness.”
“My wish…?”
“We want to seal the “Laplace Box”.”
Mineva could not help but gulp, and Martha, upon witnessing this, turned her lips that were coated lightly with lipstick into a smile. “I heard that you left Neo Zeon for this reason, Your Highness. I can assure you that the “Box”, which will bring about disaster, will be set aside in a place nobody in the Foundation can touch, whether it was, is, or is to come.”
Martha’s gestures were indicating that this was an act, and when she bowed, her stare looked up at Mineva. This woman is dangerous.—the latter’s instincts were yelling, making her body tense as she clenched her fists tightly.
(…I heard that the “Box” key is left to that “Unicorn”. Have you detained its pilot?)
(Yes. He’s currently resting inside the infirmary.)
Just when Banagher thought that the air trembled suddenly, a familiar voice immediately echoed in his ears. His body that was lying on the bed immediately bounced up, and he turned around to look at the communication panel that was suddenly lit.
This place, which was used as a detention room, seemed that it was originally a personal room for officers, and there was a 10 inch monitor set up beside the bed. On see the figure of the voice’s owner, Banagher felt his gulp become a vomit.
(The infirmary? Is he wounded?)
(The boy’s fine. He’s just a civilian who ended up riding on the “Unicorn” out of coincidence, but he certainly has the talent to pilot and guts. If you wish, I can arrange for you to meet him after this.)
An unfamiliar woman’s voice interrupted, (Sorry to bother you about this.) and Audrey answered back before stepping forward again. The hidden camera that was installed on a certain person’s chest was moving after her, and her chestnut-colored hair was swaying on the monitor. The scenery shown was definitely the mobile suit deck of the “Ra Cailum”, and she, Audrey Burne, was aboard this battleship. “AUDREY!” Banagher yelled as he reached his hand for the intercom button of the communication panel. He continued to press the unresponsibe button, “IT’S ME, BANAGHER!” and yelled at Audrey on the monitor.
“NO, AUDREY! YOU MUSTN’T REMAIN HERE! AUDREY!”
Audrey walked off without turning back, and the Vist Foundation’s subordinates surrounded her, sheltering her back that was covered with a white blouse. Banagher punched the monitor, leaped off the bed and rushed to the bedroom. “SOMEONE! OPEN THE DOOR! LET ME OUT!” He slammed the locked door hard and yelled.
After a few slams , the sound of the lock being opened rang, and the automatic door swung aside. Banagher instinctively backed away, saw the man’s face standing behind the door, and was startled, rooted to the floor.”
“I said it before. Even if you’re unwilling, you’ll have to cooperate one way or another.”
Alberto did not look away as he walked into the room. Banagher turned to look at Audrey on the monitor, before looking back at Alberto again, “Don’t tell me…” and eked out a trembling voice.
“You came all the way here, riding on the “Unicorn”, in order to save her. Then, you should now cooperate with us to save her.”
“You’re despicable!”
“Whatever you say. We can only do this in our positions.”
There were Vist subordinates looking inside the room, standing behind Alberto, ostensibly blocking off all exits. I caused everything here—once he had this realization, Banagher felt his knees tremble, “Let me speak with Mr—Ensign Riddhe!” he said out the thought he suddenly had.
“That man definitely won’t agree with this doing. Audrey should be protected by his family now…!”
“It’s useless. We’ve already struck a deal with the Marcenas’ family. Her Highness Mineva will be taken care of by the Foundation.”
“What did you say!? Is this something adults should be doing!?”
“Yeah. Thanks to brats like you messing around, the adults certainly suffered quite a bit. You have to empathize with us here.”
Alberto’s firm stare that was different from before caused Banagher’s legs to tremble as he was speechless. The former looked back at the latter, “Since we share the same blood, I’ll just give you one advice.” and continued,
“Cardeas’ father, our grandfather, was killed by our great-grandfather, the leader of the Foundation. Do you know what this means?”
Alberto continued to force this smile on his lips as he brought his face over to Banagher. The latter was pushed back, deep inside the room, and sat on the bed.
“This is the Vist bloodline. In this cursed bloodline, you and I are both just pedestrians. Give up on the naïve thinking that we’re relatives. Even father and son have to kill each other, and the Vist family will kill even their own kind to protect the “Box”.”
The stare of someone who once killed his father was looking down at Banagher in a twisted way. At that moment, a certain emotion that was forced to its limits let out a creaking sound, and he felt his chest cool down immediately. “Hand over the data of the Laplace Program. You’ll get your freedom, and she’ll be saved.” Alberto spoke to exert pressure, and Banagher, who looked back at those bloodshot eyes, lowered his face and nodded slightly before he understood what he was doing.
Alberto heaved a sigh of relief, “Oi” and once called out at the door, Banagher could sense the former taking a step back. The three men on the passage walked into the room, and the feet clad in black leather shoes entered his eyes. He could see one of them taking out handcuffs and raised his hands. Once that man closed in, Banagher got up and used the momentum to send a headbutt into the man’s belly before his hands were grabbed.
The man groaned as he was sent flying back. Alberto, who caught him from behind, fell back on his backside, and the black-clad Foundation subordinates were in disarray. He darted below a subordinate who immediately leaped forward, lowered his head, and charged towards the exit before rushing out of the room in a forward lunge. “You…!” as Alberto growled , Banagher shut the door intently.
Banagher did not have time to lock the door. “Oi, hold it!” an angry growl rang through the corridor, and the guards with white gun holsters on their waists were pursuing right after him. However, he continued to run, and he followed his memory when he was first taken to this place as he made a right turn on the first cross junction, hoping that he could head towards where the elevator was.
The images displayed on the communication panel did show the hangar of the mobile suit. Audrey was detained in the mobile suit deck together with the rendezvous machine, and at this point, she was definitely at the bottom of the deck. What can I do once I get there? he could not think at all as he pressed the elevator button. “Don’t let him get away! Get him!” Alberto’s voice immediately rang from behind, and Banagher, who realized that he had no time to wait for the elevator, hurriedly darted down the stairs beside the passageway.
He immediately dashed down the extremely steep steps that were just like a ladder as its name implied. He arrived onto the lower deck, the siren rang, and right at that moment, two crewmen waiting on the corridor turned their faces at Banagher in surprise, “Oi…” a man spoke up, wanting to raise his hand, only to be sent flying away Banagher slid down the next set of stairs before the growls reached him. He rushed down seven levels worth of steeps as the many footsteps loomed behind him, and rushed to the corridor that should lead to the mobile suit deck.
The air flowed slightly, and the faint smell of grease whiffed in, indicating to him where the mobile suit was. Audrey’s heartbeat that was there, and the touch that indicated the beginning of everything, arrived along with the wind, and he continued to run forward despite the alarms and the people’s growls right after him. He turned at a cross junction, reached the end of a T-junction, turned right, and nearly knocked into someone else running over at him.
“You’re…!”
The young man dodged behind to avoid a head-on collision, and widened his eyes. “Mr Riddhe…” Banagher muttered, but the pursuers’ footsteps caused him to look back again. He immediately grabbed Riddhe’s uniform and pulled him over,
“Ensign Riddhe. Audrey’s on this ship now. The Vist Foundation wants to use her as a hostage.”
“Hostage…!?” Riddhe gasped, and lifted his lower jaw. “Wait!” “Oi, get that guy!” the yells came from the corridor behind Banagher, and he gave a pleading stare at Riddhe. It’s all on you. If it’s you, you’ll definitely be able to understand. Banagher had relied on Riddhe when their mobile suits interacted with each other, and looked at the latter, who was gritting his teeth. Riddhe lowered his brown eyes, and gave Banagher a bitter expression.
“…Go.”
He muttered with a barely audible voice, and took the fire extinguisher installed on the wall. “The mobile suit deck’s straight ahead. Hurry.” Riddhe informed Banagher, who did not have the time to thank as he darted forward. The sound of the fire extinguisher being sprayed overpowered the pursuers’ footsteps. The rattled guards’ angry roars and shouts could be heard on the corridor, and entered Banagher’s ears through the white smoke.
The white smoke of the fire extinguisher was pushed by the air flow. Banagher opened the air lock before it caught up, and suddenly stopped upon seeing a wide space in front of him. He could see the mechanics who were stunned by this sudden alarm, the tractor units on their paths, and the cranes that were dangling from the ceiling approximately 30m. As he spotted the mobile suits standing there, he looked around this large cavity. He could see a group of men dressed in black at the bottom of the inner wall opposite where he was, and there was a woman in white blouse surrounded by these hulking men, fresh in his eyes, walking with her back straight.
“AUDREY!”
Banagher yelled as he gathered his entire strength in the form of a voice. Audrey stopped in her tracks and looked over, meeting him in the eyes. Despite the fact that she was smaller than a thumb at this point, he could clearly see her expression. Her emerald eyes were wide open, and he could even see himself as a reflection in her eyes.
“Banagher…!”
Audrey’s mouth moved as she took a step towards him. The men surrounding her immediately blocked her way, and the figure in white blouse was covered by the men in black suits as she disappeared. An unfamiliar middle-aged woman looked over at him unhappily, Such insolence. Let go of me! Audrey’s struggling voice gradually faded away, and as Banagher spotted her being dragged to the air lock at the inner wall, he saw nothing else in his eyes. The distance to that point was 40m at maximum, and as his body estimated this subconsciously, he leaped off the floor, his palms ostensibly scratching the floor apart as he sprinted.
At that moment, his right hand that was reaching behind was grabbed, and he was dragged over forcefully. In an instant, his body that was afloat in the air slammed into the wall behind, and a blunt impact struck the back of his head. He could not understand what exactly was going on, and he reached for his numb head as he spotted a person in black pilot suit amidst his fading consciousness.
The uniformly black fabric had golden stripes on it, showing the slender body of the pilot. On the left chest of this armor-like like vest covering the torso, there was the symbol of a Unicorn indicating the Vist Foundation, marked with golden lines as well. It looked like a personalized pilot suit for the “Unicorn”—a complete opposite indicating a stark contrast between light and darkness, a black color giving a demonic image. Banagher did not think too much about what it meant as he looked over the shoulder of the pilot suit in front of him, trying his best to look for Audrey. He tried to reach his leg forward, but a hand shot out like a bullet, grabbing his throat. In less than a second, his body was pushed back and slammed into the wall again.
The hand pressed down on Banagher’s windpipe like a plier, not moving at all. Stricken by the fear of suffocation, he flailed his limbs and tried to escape. However, the pilot’s head, covered by the helmet visor, did not move, and the slender body provided an unimaginable strength as it forced Banagher onto the wall. The flailing arms hit the helmet, the visor switch was immediately clicked, and a familiar pair of blue eyes appeared in his sights.
“Miss Marida…!?”
It seemed, deep within the azure pupils ostensibly leading to the sea, a certain emotion jolted for an instant. Of course, Banagher felt that he smelled her sweet body fragrance when he was facing off against that black “Unicorn”. He felt the hand on the neck relax, and shout, “Miss Marida, it’s me! Banagher Links!” He used this opportunity to grab her by the shoulder, and the most he was about to bring the face covered by the helmet to himself, Marida shook off all doubt as her eyes showed killing intent.
The hollow eyes were darker than when they first met, and were reminiscent of a cave—Banagher felt a chill as he wanted to draw back, but it was too late as Marida slammed her knee into his gut, and a piercing blow felt like it was about to stab through his spine, shaking his entire body. His legs lost strength, and he fell limply on the floor and squeezed out a voice, “Mari…da…”. He reached his hand and grabbed the pilot suit. Marida remained unmoved as her legs were spread apart, and as both of them looked at each other, Banagher again sensed that there was a hesitation in the bottom of the other person’s eyes, “Ple Twelve!” only to hear this growl.
“Don’t let this guy escape. Restrain him.”
Alberto, who was standing at the door of the airlock, was panting, and his shoulders were rising and falling as he growled a command. Marida’s eyes that were looking down at Banagher became dark hollows again, and the hand grabbing his throat regained strength. As he was being lifted to the wall again, Banagher used his hands to grab Marida’s hands. Miss Marida, please wake up. Audrey—Princess Mineva is over there. He tried to call out to her with all his will, hoping for the resonance in thoughts they once had; however, what appeared in the bottom of her eyes was a hollow where light could not shine into. Banagher’s hand was easily shaken aside, and his arm was restrained as she immediately sent him sprawling on the floor.
“Banagher!” Audrey’s call could be heard faintly. The stone-faced Marida betrayed no expression as she stared down coldly at Banagher on the floor. The eyes overlapped with the black “Unicorn”, and Banagher bit his lips tightly. He gathered his thoughts at Audrey’s presence that was moving away, summoned all his remaining strength, and yelled out,
“AUDREY!”
There was no response. He was dragged up by the arms above his head and brought away from the mobile suit deck. Marida did not respond as she stood around in her black pilot suit like a puppet, her eyes still within a corner of Banagher’s sights.
The tropical forests, which were said to cover 14% of the landscape in the past, once took up 3% of the land. It was said that this figure rose back to 6% during the Universal Century. The primary reason behind this accomplishment was the countermeasures against global warming during the old age, and the reforestation started once the Space Migration officially began. But at the same time, the indigenous people who relied on woodcutting for a living lost their jobs. They did not get proper education to gain decent jobs, and could not find any jobs even if they wanted to make the switch. These people who were the “excessive” were naturally deported into space first, and were living in the colonies where they would not suffer famines or floods. The highly civilized, highly educated did not think about what the actual people involved were thinking as they showered the latter group with good intentions.
The descendants of those ‘excessive population’ stayed in the tropical rainforests that were protected, located within the clustered jungle region of Eastern New Guinea, 17 years ago. These colony residents who were living behind the moon, the people who were abandoned furthest away from Earth, arrived here with the help of the armor called mobile suits, and took part in the invasion of Earth with their comrades scattered along the continent. However, most of the squads could not defend the frontline that was overextended, and could not return back to their motherland—the Republic of Zeon, and could only end up scattered in the forests.
There were the “Zakus”, the main forces of the republic, the “Goufs” that were developed on Earth’s frontline bases, and the amphibious “Goggs” machines. The monoeyed giants used to trample through the forest and fight against the Federation army, but at this point, it was covered by the forest and moss, and the cockpit that was gradually rotting away because a nest of poisonous snakes. To the salvage industy, this was a gold mine. However, there had not been any incidents of anyone ransacking the mobile suits lying asleep in this place ever since the war end. That was because of a widely accepted misinformation that a core reactor exploded in this place before, and the radiation spread around.
In fact, that was a mean to prevent others from approaching this place, and the old battlefield was already covered by green shrubs for a long time. As of this night, It had been 17 years, 1 month and 15 days, when the first “Zaku” landed on this land—counting from the time the 3rd wave of the Republic’s forces pushed into the South Pacific. What may be the last two remaining “Zakus” were strolling through the forests; their soles that were as large as minivans stepped on the reddish-brown dirt loudly, and the multi-layered sea of trees let out hissing sounds. The trees in this area were more than 30m tall, and thus, the giants that were 17m tall would not be protruding their heads out. It was impossible to see two machines moving from above, and only the birds that were woken from their sleep flew out of the branches away from the machines’ paths, their chirping were the only thing rang under the moonlight.
The MS-05L “Zaku” walking in front is a variant of the initial Zaku-type version, and it had a large sub generator behind it, which also powered the long-barreled beam rifle it was wielding. This sniper-type “Zaku” that was produced in limited numbers at the end of the war could be considered the latest amongst the “Zaku I”, commonly known as the “Old Zakus”. However, the fact that it had become an antique on this day would never change. Following behind was the MS-06K “Zaku Cannon”, a first generation machine that did not have a moveable frame as well. The cannon equipped on its right shoulder looked powerful, but also gave the feeling of the distance in age. As both machines were products produced before the linear seats were created, they did not have all-view monitors, but rectangular flatscreen panels in the cockpit for navigation.
A crescent moon covered in clouds was shown on one of the monitors. If one were to look over, it seemed that the glowing colonies could be seen in the middle of the stars that littered the sky, but their homeland, located behind the moon—the Side 3 currently renamed as the Zeon Republic could not be seen. “It’s so far…” Yomen Kirks muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the moon that would appear and disappear between the trees from time to time. (What?) the neighboring unit Kandle asked back through the wireless communicator, but Kirks ignored it as he let the feeling of the control stick seep into his hand slowly after having not held it for 3 years. The rhythm of the main generator reached Kirks fingertips, and before the breath of the still-alive “Zaku I” could reach inside his body, he stepped on the brakes and let the machine stop.
“This area alone should be enough, right? It’ll be troublesome to go back if we move too far from the base.”
He looked up at the crown of trees covering him from above as he called out into the wireless communicator. There were no stares from anyone else in this area deemed as a radioactive quarantine zone, and in this forest hailed to have 40 of all lifeforms in the world, the nocturnal animals that had not changed even since the ancient days were letting their howls echo through. The “Zaku Cannon” stopped in its tracks and stood to the rear left side of Kirks’ machine (Yes…) Kandle’s choked on his words as his voice came in through the wireless communicator.
(It’s such a pity. We actually have to bury the machines we kept up till now with our own hands…)
“It can’t be helped. My Sniper Zaku and your Zaku Cannons are just walking antiques now. Since we can’t find anyone to reclaim it, we can only leave it here.”
(That’s true…but they can move though.)
“It’s only a matter of time before they stop moving anyway if they aren’t recharged. We haven’t activated it for quite a few years. You should be rejoicing that they’re able to make it all the way here.”
Kirks released his hands from the control stick and stroked the console in front of him. “We can probably earn a lot if we can sell these to a weapons fan…but this guy probably doesn’t want to be treated as a plaything.” Kirks muttered to himself, and use this surge of emotions to undo the seatbelt of the seat. He took out some highly potent plastic explosives from his spare parts and connected the cables to the countdown timer. He installed them below the console seat, switched off the light of the main generator, and opened the door.
The humid air covered his entire body, and his skin that was more than 50 years old was aging slower, but sweating at this point. As long as the explosion was triggered, the cockpit would be blown to bits, and the “Zaku I” would be in the equivalent of a death state. Kirks pulled out the lift wire used to get up and down the machine, and landed on the double-layered armor at the abdomen, “Don’t blame me.” He said to his beloved machine.
“Some idiot who started a fireworks display in Dakar, and those Federation dogs came killing after us. We can only slip away here. I want to bring you guys along, but based on whatever the sponsor said, it seems that sacrifices are necessary.”
Kirks put his foot on the metal ring of the lift wire and activated the countdown wire. The countdown timer set on the seat started to tick down, and the red numbers of the 5 minute time limit looked exceptionally eye-catching in the cockpit with its lights switched off.
“Our sponsors want to pacify those Federation dogs, so we have to create proof that the Zeon remnants were rounded up for him. As payment, those dogs will let us off. Well, this is embarrassing; we came all the way here from our homeland, and we even lived till now…”
The anti-Federation organization acting as their sponsor, EGUM, would only accept machines of at least the 3rd generation, and the machines had were moved away from New Guinea through all sorts of means. This was the prelude to the extinction of the Zeon remnants on Earth, and the Shinbu base that had always been the largest rally point in the Southern Pacific was moving towards its end—this closure was too unbearable, no different from an escape in the middle of the night, but Kirks had no intention of blaming those people fromEGUM.
The higher-ups ofEGUM, who were aiming to overthrow the Federation government, hoped that the Earth army continued its current military production, and the National Defense senators used the profits of the war economy to control the politics. The anti-government forces were aiming for the moment the Senate started to audit its budget and launch a limited terrorist attack to increase the budget required; and in this sense, EGUMand Neo Zeon were practically waiting for the Federation government to take action. Their time of feeding their subordinates and disguising themselves as Neo Zeon was finally about to come to a close. They lost a homeland they could return to, and what they could only rely on was the belief that they could revive Zeon—no, the people who had things they could believe in were all dead. The terrorist had fallen to the extent of being a mercenary, and he dragged his body, rendered lethargic by the humidity, to live a haphazard life. Now, this man could finally clear off the pretense he had in the past, and that was all.
In this situation, the “Sleeves” that were living in space were not too different. Perhaps the Dakar incident was the last smoke lit, foretelling that they would soon reach annihilation. In the end, once the coexistence with the Federation, the hired terrorists all over the world would be faced with unemployment. If the Zeon Republic dissolves in Universal Century 100, the name of Zeon would vanish completely, and people like him would probably devolve into real ghosts. “We could have ended things off with a bang.” Kirks squeezed out these heartfelt words from his bitter chest as he turned his bitter smile away from the cockpit.
“There was that Delaz Conflict, and then there were the two Neo Zeon wars. There were so many chances for you to appear, but for some reason, I can’t send myself to my death here. Kandle’s about to have his 3rd brat here. That guy was just a snotty brat during the descent, and now he’s a decent father here. It’s no wonder you and I are old now…”
The middle-aged man’s face, which had useless flesh gathered as he brazenly lived his tough life, was reflected off the switched-off monitor panel. The buzzing of the insects’ wings grazed past his ears, and Kirks gave himself a slap on the face, suddenly felt embarrassed, trembled and lowered his eyes, saying, “Bye then. Go over there and wait for me first.” After this short goodbye, Kirks left the cockpit. Suddenly, there was a communication call, (Leader! We got a code. It’s from the sky!) and Kandle called up as Kirks was about to reach his hand for the lift wire switch.
“From the air? A Federation patrol?”
Kirks immediately brought his upper body into the cockpit and pressed the call button. In this case, it would be earlier than what they expected. The Federations should be starting their search tomorrow. The misinformation of this place being contaminated by radiation had been keeping people at bay, and since Kirks and his company had been hiding in this place all this while, he did not feel that the scout planes would fly by here. He regretted switching off the main generator as he looked sidelong the flank of the abdomen at Kandle’s “Zaku Cannon”. (No, this is…) Kandle muttered as his gasp could be heard clearly through the wireless communicator.
(It’s a secret code used by the Zeon army, a code used during the 3rd drop!)
Kirks’ heart instantly stopped, and then started to beat again. He took the earphones set on the seat and brought his ears over to them. The sound that was similar to the old Morse code entered his old brain through his eardrums, awakening his memories. It was a code he memorized in his head 17 years ago. At that time, he was encased inside a HRSL capsule together with his mobile suit, and he had been listening to that voice until the moment he was launched down to low orbit. When my fear and excitement rang in cadence, that was the code—!
“Please…provide assistance…give the Federation…a good one…?”
Kirks inadvertently uttered these words out as he deciphered this code, and the sound of the words caused his heart to race again. At the same time, the sound of an engine, akin to that of the wind, passed by from above, and Kirks looked up at the sky through the canopy of trees. The crescent moon was giving off a thin and sharp light, and a small dot with a trail of smoke appeared before this light. It was a transport ship with its navigation lights off—no, from its extremely long shape, it seemed to be a VTOL-type ship returning to Earth.
(Leader…) Kandle let out a puzzled voice “Cut off the wireless communication. Remain on standby.) Kirks instinctively ordered and continued to watch the ship as it flew through the night ship. It was calling out with a code used during Earth’s invasion, and most probably, it was a ship sent in from ship. Kirks could not think of what sort of effect it would bring as he decided to cut the countdown of the bomb. BEEP. The numbers were stopped, indicating a time of less than 2 minutes, and his heart continued to beat in the cockpit of the “Zaku I”, unwilling to fade away.
